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diff --git a/old/68398-0.txt b/old/68398-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 97fbc16..0000000 --- a/old/68398-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10270 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The time spirit, by J. C. Snaith - -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: The time spirit - A romantic tale - -Author: J. C. Snaith - -Release Date: June 24, 2022 [eBook #68398] - -Language: English - -Produced by: D A Alexander and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by University of California - libraries) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TIME SPIRIT *** - - - - - -THE TIME SPIRIT - - - - -[Illustration: Three pairs of eyes met in challenge] - [PAGE 84] - - - - - THE - TIME SPIRIT - - _A Romantic Tale_ - - BY - - J. C. SNAITH - AUTHOR OF “THE COMING,” “THE SAILOR,” ETC. - - - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - NEW YORK 1918 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - - - Printed in the United States of America - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. THE ARRIVAL 1 - II. AUNT ANNIE AND AUNTY HARRIET 32 - III. FLOWING WATER 68 - IV. BRIDPORT HOUSE 87 - V. ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS 120 - VI. PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT 149 - VII. A TRAGIC COIL 170 - VIII. A BUSY MORNING 186 - IX. AN INTERLUDE 210 - X. TIME’S REVENGE 232 - XI. A BOMB 253 - XII. ARDORS AND ENDURANCES 273 - XIII. EVERYTHING FOR THE BEST 293 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - FACING - PAGE - - Three pairs of eyes met in challenge _Frontispiece_ - “How did you come by it, Joe?” 24 - “You give up your young man--simply because of that?” 198 - “We mustn’t build castles,” she sighed, and the light - fringed her eyelids 296 - - - - -THE TIME SPIRIT - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE ARRIVAL - - -I - -THE fog of November in its descent upon Laxton, one of London’s -busiest suburbs, had effaced the whole of Beaconsfield Villas, -including the Number Five on the fanlight over the door of the last -house but two in the row. To a tall girl in black on her way from the -station this was a serious matter. She was familiar with the lie of -the land in the light of day and in darkness less than Cimmerian, but -this evening she had to ask a policeman, a grocer’s boy, and a person -of no defined status, before a kid-gloved hand met the knocker of her -destination. - -It was the year 1890. Those days are very distant now. Victoria -the Good was on the throne of Britain. W.G. went in first for -Gloucestershire; Lohmann and Lockwood bowled for Surrey. The hansom was -still the gondola of London. The Tube was not, and eke the motor-bus. -The _Daily Mail_ had not yet invented Lord Northcliffe. Orville Wright -had not made good. William Hohenzollern used to come over to see his -grandmother. - -Indeed, on this almost incredibly distant evening in the world’s -history, his grandmother in three colors and a widow’s cap, with a blue -ribbon across her bosom, surmounted the sitting-room chimney-piece of -Number Five, Beaconsfield Villas. And at the other end of the room, -over the dresser, was an old gentleman with a beard, by common consent -the wisest man in the realm, who talked about “splendid isolation,” and -gave Heligoland to deep, strong, patient Germany in exchange for a tiny -strip of Africa. - -Yes, there were giants in those days. And no doubt there are giants in -these. But it is not until little Miss Clio trips in with her scroll -that we shall know for certain, shall we? - - * * * * * - -At the first crisp tap the door of Number Five was flung open. - -“Harriet, so here you are!” - -There was welcome in the eyes as well as in the voice of the eager, -personable creature who greeted the visitor. There was welcome also in -the gush of mingled gas and firelight from a cosy within. - -“How are you, Eliza?” - -The tall girl asked the question, shut the door, and kissed her -sister, all in one breath, so that only a minute quantity of a London -“partickler” was able to follow her into the room. - -The hostess pressed Harriet into a chair, as near the bright fire as -she could be persuaded to sit. - -“What a night! I was half afraid you wouldn’t face it.” - -“I always try to keep a promise.” The quiet, firm voice had a gravity -and a depth which made it sound years older than that of the elder -sister. - -“I know you do--and that’s a lot to say of anyone. How’s your health, -my dear? It’s very good to see you after all these months.” - -Chattering all the time with the artlessness of a nature wholly -different from that of her visitor, Eliza Kelly took the kettle from -the hob and made the tea. - -Beyond a superficial general likeness there was nothing to suggest the -near relationship of these two. The air and manner which invested the -well-made coat and skirt, the lady-like muff and stole, with a dignity -rather austere, were not to be found in the unpretentious front parlor -opening on to the street, or in its brisk, voluble, easy-going mistress. - -“Harriet, you are really all right again?” Eliza impulsively poured -out the tea before it had time to brew, thereby putting herself to the -trouble of returning it to the pot. - -“Oh, yes.” Harriet removed her gloves elegantly. She was quite a -striking-looking creature of nine-and-twenty. In spite of a recent -illness, she had an air of strength and virility. The face and brow had -been cast in a mold of serious beauty, the eyes, a clear deep gray, -were strongholds of good sense. Even without the aid of a considered, -rather formidable manner, this young woman would have exacted respect -anywhere. - -“Take a muffin while it’s warm.” - -Harriet did so. - -“I had no idea your illness was going to be so bad.” - -The younger woman would not own that her illness had been anything of -the kind; she was even inclined to make light of it. - -“Why, you’ve been away weeks and weeks. And Aunt Annie says you’ve had -to have an operation.” - -“Only a slight one.” The tone was casual. “Nothing to speak of.” - -“Nothing to speak of! Aunt Annie says you have been at Brighton I don’t -know how long.” - -“Well, you know,” said Harriet in a discreet, rather charming voice, -“they thought I was run down and that I ought to have a good rest. You -see, the long illness of her Grace was very trying for those who had to -look after her.” - -“I suppose so. Although her Grace has been dead nearly two years. -Anyhow, I hope the Family paid your expenses.” The elder sister and -prudent housewife looked at Harriet keenly. - -“Everything, even my railway fare.” A fine note came into the voice of -Harriet Sanderson. - -“Lucky you to be in such service,” said Eliza in a tone of envy. - -Slowly the color deepened in Harriet’s cheek. - -“By the way, what are you doing at Buntisford? Does it mean you’ve left -Bridport House for good?” - -“It does, I suppose.” - -“But I thought Buntisford had been closed for years?” - -“His Grace had it opened again, so that he can go down there when he -wants to be quiet. He was always fond of it. There’s a bit of rough -shooting and a river, and it’s within thirty miles of London; he finds -it very convenient. Of course, it’s quite small and easy to manage.” - -“What is your position there?” - -“I’m housekeeper,” said Harriet. “That is to say, I manage everything.” - -The elder sister looked at her with incredulity, in which a little awe -was mingled. “Housekeeper--to the Duke of Bridport--and you not yet -thirty, Hattie. Gracious, goodness, what next!” - -The visitor smiled at this simplicity. “It’s hardly so grand as it -sounds. The house doesn’t need much in the way of servants; the Family -never go there. His Grace comes down now and again for a week-end when -he wants to be alone. Just himself--there’s never anyone else.” - -“But housekeeper!” Eliza was still incredulous. “At twenty-nine! I call -it wonderful.” - -“Is it so remarkable?” Harriet’s calmness seemed a little uncanny. - -“The dad would have thought so, had he lived to see it. He always -thought the world of the Family.” - -The younger sister smiled at this artlessness. - -“Every reason to do so, no doubt,” she said with a brightening eye and -a rush of warmth to her voice. “I am sure there couldn’t be better -people in this world than the Dinnefords.” - -“That was the father’s opinion, anyway. He always said they knew how to -treat those who served them.” - -“Not a doubt of that,” said Harriet. “They have been more than good to -me.” The color flowed over her face. “And his Grace often speaks of -the father. He says he was his right hand at Ardnaleuchan, and that he -saved him many a pound in a twelvemonth.” - -“I expect he did,” said Eliza, her own eyes kindling. “He simply -worshiped the Family. Mother used to declare that he would have sold -his soul for the Dinnefords.” - -“He was a very good man,” said Harriet simply. - -“It would have been a proud day for him, Hattie, had he lived to see -you where you are now. And not yet thirty--with all your life before -you.” - -But the words of the elder sister brought a look of constraint to the -face of Harriet. Mistaking the cause, Eliza was puzzled. “And it won’t -be my opinion only,” she said. “Aunt Annie I’m sure will think as I do. -She’ll say you’ve had a wonderful piece of luck.” - -“But the position _does_ mean great responsibility”--there was a sudden -change in Harriet’s tone. - -Eliza kept her eyes on the face of the younger woman, that fine Scots -face, so full of resolution and character. “Whatever it may be, Hattie, -I’m thinking you’ll just about be able to manage it.” - -“I mean to try.” Harriet spoke very slowly and softly. “I mean to show -myself worthy of his Grace’s confidence.” - -The elder sister smiled an involuntary admiration; there was such a -calm force about the girl. “And, of course, it means that you are made -for life.” - -But in the eyes of Harriet was a fleck of anxiety. “Ah! you don’t know. -It’s a big position--an awfully big position.” - -Eliza agreed. - -“There are times when it almost frightens me.” Harriet spoke half to -herself. - -“Everything has to run like clockwork, of course,” said the -sympathetic Eliza. “And it’s bound to make the upper servants at -Bridport House very jealous.” - -“It may.” The deep tone had almost an edge of disdain. “Anyhow it -doesn’t matter. I don’t go to Bridport House now.” - -“But you can’t tell me, my dear, that they like to hear of her Grace’s -second maid holding the keys in the housekeeper’s room.” - -The calm Harriet smiled. “But it’s only Buntisford, after all. You -speak as if it was Bridport House or Ardnaleuchan.” - -Eliza shook a knowledgeable head. “They won’t like it all the same, -Hattie. The dad wouldn’t have, for one. He was all his life on the -estate, but he was turned fifty before he rose to be factor at -Ardnaleuchan.” - -“Well, Eliza”--there was a force, a decision in the words which made an -end of criticism--“it’s just a matter for the Duke. The place is not of -my seeking. I was asked to take it--what else could I do?” - -“Don’t think I blame you. If it’s the wish of his Grace there is no -more to be said. Still, there’s no denying you’ve a big responsibility.” - -At these words a shadow came into the resolute eyes. - -Said the elder sister reassuringly, “You’ll be equal to the position, -never fear. That head of yours is a good one, Hattie. Even Aunt Annie -admits that. By the way, have you seen her lately?” - -“Seen--Aunt Annie?” said Harriet defensively. The sudden mention of -that name produced an immediate change of tone in her distinguished -niece. - -“She’s been asking about you. She wants very much to see you.” - -The shadow deepened in Harriet’s eyes. But an instant later she had -skillfully covered an air of growing constraint by a conventional -question. - -“How’s Joe, Eliza?” - -“Pretty much as usual. He’ll be off duty soon.” - -Joe Kelly was Eliza’s husband, and a member of the Metropolitan police -force. In the eyes of her family, Eliza Sanderson had married beneath -her. But Joe, if a rough diamond, was a good fellow, and Eliza could -afford not to be over-sensitive on the score of public opinion. Joe had -no superficial graces, it was as much as he could do to write a line -in his notebook, high rank in his calling was not prophesied by his -best friends, but his wife knew she was well off. They had been married -eight years, and if only Providence had blessed a harmonious union in -a becoming manner, Eliza Kelly would not have found it in her heart to -envy the greatest lady in the land. But Providence had not done so, the -more was the pity. - -“By the way,”--Eliza suddenly broke a silence--“there’s a piece of news -for you, Hattie. A friend is coming to see you at five.” - -“A friend--to see me!” - -“To see you, my dear. In fact, I might say an admirer. Can’t you guess -who?” - -“I certainly can’t.” - -“Then I think you ought.” Mischief had yielded to laughter of a rather -quizzical kind. - -“I didn’t know that I had any admirers--in Laxton.” - -The touch of manner delicately suggested ducal circles. - -“You can have a husband for the asking, our Harriet.” The eternal -feminine was now in command of the situation. - -Harriet frowned. - -“I can’t think who it can be.” - -“No?” laughed the tormentress. “You are not going to tell me you have -forgotten the young man you met the last time you were here?” - -It seemed that the distinguished visitor had. - -“I do call that hard lines,” mocked Eliza. “You have really forgotten -him?” - -“I really have!” - -“He has talked of you ever since. When was Miss Sanderson coming again? -Could he be invited to meet her? He wanted to see her aboot something -verra impoortant.” - -A light dawned upon Harriet’s perplexity. - -“Surely you don’t mean--you don’t mean that red-headed young -policeman----?” - -“Dugald Maclean. Of course, I do. He has invited himself to meet you at -five o’clock.” Eliza sat back in her chair and laughed at the face of -Harriet, but the face of Harriet showed it was hardly a laughing matter. - -“Well!” she cried. Her eyes were smiling, yet they could not veil their -look of deep annoyance. - -“Now, Hattie,” admonished the voice of maternal wisdom, “there’s no -need to take offense. Don’t forget you are twenty-nine, Dugald Maclean -is a smart young man, and Joe says he’ll make his way in the world. Of -course, you hold a very high position now, but if you don’t want to -find yourself on the shelf it’s time you began to think very seriously -about a husband.” - -“We will change the subject, if you don’t mind.” The tone revealed a -wide gulf between the outlook of Eliza Kelly and that of a confidential -retainer in the household of the Duke of Bridport. - -“Very well, my dear. But don’t bite. Have the last piece of muffin. And -then I’ll toast another for Constable Maclean.” - - -II - -The clock on the chimney-piece struck five. Before its last echo had -died there came a loud knock on the front door. - -Constable Maclean was a ruddy young Scotsman. He was tall, lean, -large-boned, with prominent teeth and ears. Although freckled like a -turkey’s egg, he was not a bad-looking fellow. His boots, however, -took up a lot of space in a small room, and the manner of his entrance -suggested that the difficult operation known as “falling over oneself” -was in the act of consummation. But there was an intense earnestness in -his manner, and a personal force in his look, which gave a redeeming -grace of character to a shy awkwardness, verging on the grotesque. - -“Good afternune,” said Constable Maclean, removing his helmet with a -polite grimace. - -One of the ladies shook hands, the other welcomed the young man with -a cordial good-evening and bade him sit down. Constable Maclean, -encumbered with a regulation overcoat, sat down rather like a -performing bear. - -At first conversation languished. Yet no welcome could have been more -cordial than Eliza’s. She felt like a mother to this young man. It was -her nature to feel like a mother to every young man. Moreover, Dugald -Maclean, as he sat perspiring with nervousness on the edge of a chair -much too small for him, seemed to need some large-hearted woman to feel -like a mother towards him. - -Miss Harriet Sanderson was to blame, no doubt, for the young -policeman’s aphasia. Her coolness and ease, with a half quizzical, half -ironical look surmounting it, seemed to increase the bashfulness of -Dugald Maclean whenever he ventured to look at her out of the tail of -his eye. - -It was clear that the young man was suffering acutely. Nature had -intended him to be expansive--not in the Sassenach sense perhaps,--but -given the time and the place and a right conjunction of the planets, -Dugald Maclean had social gifts, at least they were so assessed at -Carrickmachree in his native Caledonia. Moreover, he was rather proud -of them. He was an ambitious and gifted young police officer. For many -moons he had been looking forward to this romantic hour. Since a first -chance meeting with the semi-divine Miss Sanderson he had been living -in the hope of a second, yet now by the courtesy of Providence it was -granted to him he might never have seen a woman before. - -The lips of Constable Maclean were dry, his tongue clove to the roof of -an amazingly capacious mouth. As for Miss Sanderson, mere silence began -to achieve wonders in the way of gentle, smiling irony. But the hostess -was more humane. For one thing she was married, and although Fate had -been cruel, she had a sacred instinct which made her regard every young -man as a boy of her own. - -Every moment the situation became more delicate, but Eliza’s handling -of it was superb. She brewed a fresh cup of tea for Constable Maclean, -and then plied the toasting-fork to such purpose that the young man -became so busy devouring muffins that for a time he forgot his shame. -Eliza could toast and butter a muffin with anyone, Constable Maclean -could eat a muffin with anyone--thus things began to go better. And -when, without turning a hair, the young man entered upon his third -muffin, Miss Sanderson dramatically unbent. - -“Allow me to give you another cup of tea.” The voice was melody. - -A succession of guttural noises, which might be interpreted as “Thank -ye kindly, miss,” having come apparently from the boots of Constable -Maclean, Miss Harriet Sanderson handed him a second cup of tea. - -Still, the conversation did not prosper. But the perfect hostess, -kneeling before the fire in order to toast muffin the fifth, had still -her best card to play. It was the ace of trumps, in fact, and when she -rose to spread butter over a sizzling, delicious, corrugated surface, -she decided that the time had come to make use of it. - -Perhaps the factor in the situation which moved her to this step was -that only one muffin now remained for her husband when he came off duty -half-an-hour hence, and that his young colleague of the X Division -seemed ready to go on devouring them until the crack of doom. - -“That reminds me,” Eliza suddenly remarked as she cut the fifth muffin -in half, “I promised Mrs. Norris I would go across after tea to have a -look at her latest.” - -“You are not going out, Eliza, such a night as this?” said Harriet in a -voice of consternation. - -“A promise is a promise, my dear, you know that. Mrs. Norris has just -had her sixth--the sweetest little boy. Some people have all the luck.” - -“But the fog--you can’t see a yard in front of you!” - -“It’s only just across the street, my dear.” - - -III - -As soon as Eliza, hatted and cloaked, had gone to see Mrs. Norris’s -latest, a change came over Constable Maclean. He was a young man of -big ideas. But all that they had done for him so far was to turn life -into a tragedy. By nature fiercely sensitive, the shyness which made -his life a burden had a trick of crystallizing at the most inconvenient -moments into a kind of dumb madness. A crisis of this kind was upon him -now. Yet he had a will of iron. And in order to keep faith with the -highest law of his being that will was always forcing him to do things, -and say things, which people who did not happen to be Dugald Maclean -could only regard as perfectly amazing. - -His acquaintance with Miss Sanderson was very slight. They came from -neighboring villages in their native Scotland; many times he had gazed -from afar on his beautiful compatriot, but only once before could he -really be said to have met her. That was months ago, in that very room, -when he had been but a few days in London. Since then a very ambitious -young man had thought about her a great deal. The force and charm of -her personality had cast a spell upon him; this was a demonic woman if -ever there was one; he had hardly guessed that such creatures existed. -It would be wrong to say that he was in love with her; his passion was -centered upon ideas and not upon people; yet Harriet Sanderson was -already marked in the catalogue as the property of Dugald Maclean. - -“Do you like vairse?” inquired the young man, with an abruptness which -startled her. - -The unexpected question was far from the present plane of her thoughts, -but it was answered to the best of her ability. - -“Yes, I like it very much,” she said, tactfully. - -“I’m gled.” Constable Maclean unbuttoned his great coat. - -Somewhere in the mind of Harriet lurked the romantic hope that this -remarkable young man was about to produce a hare or a rabbit after the -manner of a wonder-worker at the Egyptian Hall. But in this she was -disappointed. He simply took forth from an inner pocket of his tunic -several sheets of neatly-folded white foolscap, and handed them to Miss -Sanderson without a word. He then folded his arms Napoleonically and -watched the force of their impact upon her. - -“You wish me to read _this_?” she asked, after a brief but sharp -mingling of confusion and surprise. - -The young man nodded. - -With fingers that trembled a little, she unrolled the sheets of a fair, -well-written copy of “Urban Love, a trilogy.” - -She read the poem line by line, ninety-six in all, with the face of a -sphinx. - -“What do ye think o’ it, Miss Sanderrson?” There was a slight tremor in -the voice of the author. The silence which had followed the reading of -“Urban Love, a trilogy” had proved a little too much, even for that -will of iron. - -“It is very nice, if I may say so, very nice indeed,” said Miss -Sanderson cautiously. - -“I’ll be doin’ better than that, I’m thinkin’.” A certain rigidity came -into the voice of the author of the poem. The word “nice,” was almost -an affront; it had come upon his ear like a false quantity upon that of -a classical scholar. - -“Did you really do it all by yourself?” The inquiry was due less to -the performance, which Harriet was quite unable to judge, than to the -author’s almost terrible concentration of manner, which clearly implied -that it would not do to take such an achievement for granted. - -“Every worrd, Miss Sanderrson. Except----” - -“Except what, Mr. Maclean?” - -“Mr. Lonie, the Presbyterian Minister, helped me a bit wi’ the -scansion.” - -“If I may say so, I think it is remarkably clever.” - -It appeared, however, that these pages were only the opening stanzas of -a poem which was meant to have many. They were still in the limbo of -time, behind the high forehead of the author, but upon a day they would -burst inevitably upon an astonished world. Would Miss Sanderson accept -the dedication? - -Miss Sanderson, blushing a little from acute surprise, said that -nothing would give her greater pleasure. She was amazed, she wanted to -laugh, but the intense, almost truculent earnestness of the young man -had put an enchantment upon her. - -But all this was simply a prelude to the great drama of the emotions -which Constable Maclean had now to unfold. He had broken the ice -with the charmer. The butterfly was pinned down with “Urban Love, a -trilogy,” through its breast. Miss Sanderson had never had time for -reading, therefore she was in nowise literary. Thus, perhaps, it was -less the merit of the work itself, which must be left to the judgment -of scholars, than the force, the audacity, the driving-power of its -author which seemed almost to deliver her captive into his hands. - -She, it seemed, was its _onlie_ true begetter. The poem was in her -honor. Heroica, calm and fair, was the protagonist of “Urban Love, a -trilogy,” and she was Heroica. The position was none of her seeking, -but it carried with it grave responsibilities. - -In the first place it exposed her to an offer of marriage. “Urban Love, -a trilogy,” had broken so much of the ice that Dugald Maclean plunged -horse, foot and artillery through the hole it had made. At the moment -he could not lead Heroica to the altar; it would hardly be prudent for -a young constable of eight months’ standing to offer to do so, but he -sincerely hoped that she would promise to wait for him. - -Galled by the spur of ambition, Dugald Maclean took the whole plunge -where smaller men would have been content merely to try the depth of -the water. - -Miss Sanderson was frozen with astonishment. It was true that “Urban -Love, a trilogy,” had half prepared her for a declaration in form, -but she had not foreseen the swiftness of the onset. This was her -first experience of the kind, but she was a woman of the world and she -gathered her dignity about her like a garment. - -“Ye’re no offendit, Miss Sanderrson?” There was something titanic in -the slow mustering of his forces to break an arid pause. - -“I am not offended, Mr. Maclean.” The tone of Miss Sanderson said she -was offended a little. “But I do think----” - -“What do ye think, Miss Sanderrson?” The naïveté of the young man -provoked a sharp intake of breath. - -“I think, Mr. Maclean”--the candor of Miss Sanderson was deliberate but -not unkind--“if I were you, before I offered to marry anybody, I should -try seriously to better myself.” - -The words, pregnant and uncompromising, were masked by a tone so deep -and calm that a first-rate intellect was able to treat them on their -merits. In spite of a flirtation with the Muses, this young man was a -remarkable combination of wild audacity and extreme shrewdness. He had -a power of mind which enabled him to distinguish the false from the -true. Thus he saw at once, without resentment or pique, that the advice -of Heroica was that of a friend. - -She had a strong desire to box the ears of this rawboned young -policeman for his impertinence; but at heart this was a real woman, -and the dynamic forces of her sex were strong in her. It was hard to -keep from laughing in the face of this young man in a hurry, who rushed -his fences in a way that was simply grotesque; yet she could not help -admiring the power within him, and she wished him well. - -“It’s gude advice, Miss Sanderrson.” His tone of detachment drew a -ripple from lips that laughed very seldom. “I’m thinkin’ I’ll tak’ it. -But ye’ll bear the matter in mind?” - -“I make no rash promises, Mr. Maclean.” - -“Well, if ye won’t, ye won’t. But I’m thinkin’ I’d work the better at -the Latin if I could count on ye.” - -“Studying Latin, are you, Mr. Maclean?” The surprise of Miss Sanderson -was rather respectful. - -“Mr. Lonie is learnin’ me,” said the young man, with a slight touch of -vainglory. “And I’m thinkin’ he’ll verra soon be learnin’ me the Greek.” - -“Are you going to college?” - -“Maybe ay. Maybe no. You never can tell where a pairson may get to. -Anyhow I’m learnin’ to speak the language. Ae day I’ll be as gude at -the Saxon as you and your sister have become, Miss Sanderrson.” - -It was hard not to smile, yet she knew her countrymen too well to treat -such a matter lightly. - -“And I’ve a’ready set aboot writin’ for the papers.” - -“Begun already to write for the papers, have you, Mr. Maclean?” This -was not a young man to smile at. “Well, wherever you may get to,” Miss -Sanderson’s tone was softer than any she had yet used, “I am sure I -wish you well.” - -“Thank ye,” said the young man dryly. “But why not gie a pairson a -helping hand?” - -“I am not sure that I like you well enough.” Such candor was extorted -by the seriousness with which she was now having to treat him. “You -see, Mr. Maclean, it is all so sudden. We have only met once before.” - -“May I hope, Miss Sanderrson?” - -Suddenly he moved his chair towards her and took her hand. - -“Mr. Maclean, you may not.” The hand was withdrawn firmly. - -“Well, think it owre, Miss Sanderson.” - -The young man moved back his chair to its first position in order to -restore the _status quo_. - -Harriet shook her head. And then all at once, to the deep consternation -of Constable Maclean, she broke into an anguish of laughter, which good -manners, try as they might, were not able to control. - - -IV - -In the midst of this unseemly behavior on the part of Miss Sanderson, -the door next the street was flung open with violence. A figure Homeric -of aspect emerged from the night. - -It was that of Constable Joseph Kelly, of the Metropolitan Police; an -ornament of the X Division, a splendid man to look at, nearly six feet -high. Broad of girth, proportioned finely, his helmet crowned him like -a hero of old. His face, richly tinted by daily and nightly exposure -to the remarkable climate of London, was the color of a ripe apple, -and there presided in it the almost god-like good-humor of the race to -which he belonged. - -This emblem of superb manhood was laden heavily. There was his long -overcoat, a tremendous, swelling affair; there was his furled oilskin -cape; at one side of his girdle was his truncheon-case, his lamp at -the other side of it; in his left hand was a modest basket which had -contained his dinner, and in his right was a larger wicker arrangement -which might have contained anything. - -“Is that our Harriet?” said Constable Kelly, in the act of closing the -door deftly with his heel. “Good evening, gal. Pleased to see you.” - -He set down the large basket on the floor in a rather gingerly manner, -placed the small one on the table, came to Harriet, kissed her audibly, -and then turned to the room’s second occupant with an air of surprise. - -“Hello, Scotchie! What are _you_ doing here?” - -Before Dugald Maclean could answer the question he was in the throes of -a second attack of dumb madness. This malady made his life a burden. -When only one person was by he seldom had difficulty in expressing -himself, but any addition to the company was apt to plunge him into -hopeless defeat. - -“Up to no good, I expect.” Joseph Kelly, disapproval in his eyes, -answered his own question, since other answer there was none. “I never -see such a feller. Been mashing you, Harriet, by the look of him.” - -It was a bow drawn at a venture by a shrewd colleague of the X -Division. An immediate effusion of rose pink to the young man’s -freckled countenance was full of information for a close observer. - -“Durn me if he hasn’t!” Gargantuan laughter rose to the ceiling. - -Harriet blushed. But the look in her face was not discomfiture merely. -There was plain annoyance and a look of rather startled anxiety for -which the circumstances could hardly account. - -“Scotchie, you’re a nonesuch.” But Joe suddenly lowered his voice in -answer to the alarm in the face of his sister-in-law. “You are the -limit, my lad. Do you know what he did last week, Harriet? I’ll tell -you.” - -“Let me make you a cup of tea, Joe.” And his sister-in-law, who seemed -oddly agitated by his arrival, rose in the humane hope of diverting the -attack. - -But the story was too good to remain untold. - -“It’ll take the X Division twenty years to live it down.” Kelly -throbbed and gurgled like a donkey-engine as he fixed his youthful -colleague with a somber eye. “This young feller, what do you think he -did last week?” - -“The kettle will soon boil, Joe.” - -“Harriet!”--the rich rolling voice thrilled dramatically--“about -midnight, last Monday week as ever was, this smart young officer saw -an old party in an eyeglass and a topper and a bit o’ fur round his -overcoat, standin’ on the curb at Piccadilly Circus. He strolls up, -taps him on the shoulder, charges him with loitering with intent and -runs him in.” - -“Here’s your tea, Joe.” The voice was sweetly polite. - -“And who do you think the old party was, my gal? Only a Director of the -Bank of England--that’s all. The rest of the Force is guying us proper. -They want to know when we are going to lock up the Governor.” - -“Joe, your tea!” - -“We’ll never get over it, gal, not in my time. Scotchie, you are too -ambitious. There isn’t scope for your abilities in the Metropolitan -Force. Turn your attention to some other branch of the law. You ought -to take chambers in the Temple, you ought, my lad.” - -But in answer to the look in the eyes of Harriet, her brother-in-law -checked the laugh that rose again to his lips. There was a strange -anxiety upon her face, an anxiety that was now in some way communicated -to him. It was clear from the glances they exchanged and the silence -that ensued, that both were much embarrassed by the presence of Maclean. - -However, after the young man had entered upon a struggle for words -with which to meet this persiflage and they had refused to come forth, -he suddenly noticed that the hands of the clock showed a quarter to six -and he rose determinedly. - -“Yes, it’s time you went on duty,” said the sardonic Kelly with an air -of relief. - -Constable Maclean, feeling much was at stake, made a great effort -to achieve a dignified exit. He was an odd combination of the -thick-skinned and the hypersensitive. At this moment the shattering wit -of his peer of the X Division made him wish he had never been born, but -he was too dour a fighter to take it lying down. - -“Gude-nicht, Miss Sanderrson.” With one more grimace he offered a hand -not indelicately. - -“Good-night, Mr. Maclean.” The tone of studied kindness was a salve for -his wounds. The effrontery of this young man did not call for pity. And -yet it was his to receive it from the sterling heart of a true woman. - -The smile, the arch glance, the ready handshake did so much to restore -Dugald Maclean in his own esteem, that he was able to retire with even -a touch of swagger, which somehow, in spite of an awkwardness almost -comically ursine, sat uncommonly well on such a dashing young policeman. - -Indeed, the exit of Constable Maclean came very near the point of -bravado. For as he passed the large wicker basket which Kelly had -placed on the floor, the young man turned audaciously upon his -tormentor. Said he with a grin of sheer defiance: - -“What hae ye gotten i’ the basket, Joe?” - -“Never you mind. ’Op it.” - -Less out of natural curiosity, which however was very great, than a -desire to show all whom it might concern that he was again his own man, -Dugald Maclean laid his hand on the lid of the basket. - -“What hae ye gotten, Joe? Rabbuts?” - -“If you must know, it’s a young spannil.” The answer came with rather -truculent hesitation. - -“A young spannil, eh? I’m thinkin’ I’ll hae a look.” - -“Be off about your duty, my lad.” Joe began to look threatening. - -“Juist a speir.” - -“’Op it, I tell you.” - -But in open defiance, Dugald Maclean had already begun to untie the -string which held the lid of the basket in place. The majestic Kelly -rose from his tea. Without further words he seized the young man firmly -from behind by the collar of his coat. And then he hustled him as far -as the door in a very efficient professional manner, straight into the -arms of Eliza, who at that moment was in the act of entering it. - - -V - -At the open door there was a brief scurry of laughter and protest which -ended in a riot of confusion. And then happened an odd thing. But of -the three persons struggling upon the threshold of Number Five only -one was aware of it, and he had the wit to raise a great voice to its -highest pitch in order to conceal a fact so remarkable. - -“For heaven’s sake hold your noise, Joe, else you’ll frighten the -neighbors,” said Eliza, getting in it at last and indulging in -suppressed shrieks at the manner of Dugald Maclean’s putting out. - -An instant later, the young policeman was in the street and the door of -Number Five, Beaconsfield Villas, had closed upon him. But his singular -exit was merely the prelude to an incident far more amazing. - -In the uproar of Joe had been fell design. As soon as it ceased the -reason for it grew apparent. An incredible sound was filling the room. - -“Whatever’s that!” Eliza almost shrieked in sheer wonderment. - -Harriet’s behavior was different. For a moment she was spellbound. The -look in her eyes verged upon horror. - -It seemed that a child was crying lustily. - -“Wherever can it be!” cried the frantic Eliza. - -A wild glance round the room told Eliza that there was only one place -in which it could be. Her eyes fell at once on the large wicker basket, -which had been set on the floor near the fire. - -“Well, in all my born days!” - -She rushed to the basket and began furiously to untie the lid. But -the maxim “the more haste the less speed” was as true in 1890 as it -is today. Eliza’s fingers merely served to double and treble knot the -string. - -Uncannily calm, Harriet rose from the table, the bread knife in -her hand. In silence she knelt by the hearth and cut the knot. The -deliberation of her movements was in odd contrast to Eliza’s frenzy. - -[Illustration: “How did you come by it, Joe?”] - -The lid was off the basket in a trice. And the sight within further -emphasized the diverse bearing of the two women. Harriet rose a statue; -Eliza knelt in an ecstasy. One seemed to gloat over the sight that -met her eyes; the other, with the gaze of Jocasta, stood turned to -stone. - -It was the sweetest little baby. In every detail immaculate, bright as -a new pin, its long clothes were of a fine quality, and it was wrapped -in a number of shawls. A hot-water bottle was under its tiny toes, and -a bottle of milk by its side. - -Eliza’s first act was to take the creature out of its receptacle. And -then began the business of soothing it. Near the fire was a large -rocking-chair, made for motherhood, and here sat Eliza, the foundling -upon her knee. Evidently it had a charming disposition. For in two -shakes of a duck’s tail it was taking its milk as if nothing had -happened. Yet the calm, tense Harriet had a little to do with that. -The milk was her happy thought. Moreover, she tested its quality and -temperature with quite an air of experience. And the effect of the milk -was magical. - -As soon as sheer astonishment and the cares of motherhood would permit, -a number of searching questions were put to Constable Kelly. - -“How did you come by it, Joe?” was question the first. - -Before committing himself in any way, Joe scratched a fair Saxon poll -like a very wise policeman, indeed. It was as if he had said, “Joseph -Kelly, my friend, anything you say now will be used in evidence against -you.” - -At last, cocking at Harriet a cautious eye, he replied impressively, -“I’ll tell you.” But it was not until Eliza had imperiously repeated -the question that he came to the point of so doing. - -So accustomed was Joseph Kelly to the giving of evidence that -unconsciously he assumed the air of one upon his oath. - -“I was _perceding_” said he, “about twenty-past four through Grosvenor -Square, on my way to Victoria, when I see through the fog this bloomin’ -contraption on a doorstep.” - -“What was the number?” Eliza asked. - -“I was so flabbergasted, I forgot to look.” - -“Well, really, Joe!” - -“When I saw what was in the basket, I was so took, as you might say, -that it was not until I was at the end of the street that I thought of -looking for the number. And then it was too late to swear to the house.” - -“In Grosvenor Square?” said Harriet. - -“I’m not _per_cisely sure. The fog was so thick in Mayfair you could -hardly see your hand before you. It may have been one of them cross -streets going into Park Lane.” - -“A nice one you are, Joe.” And Eliza began to croon softly to the babe -in her arms. - -Kelly stroked his head perplexedly. - -“I am,” he said, solemnly. “A proper guy I’ll look when I take it to -the Yard tomorrow and they ask me how I come by it.” - -“Take it to the where?” asked Eliza sharply. - -“To Scotland Yard the first thing in the morning, to the Lost Property -Department.” - -“There’s going to be no Scotland Yard for this sweet lamb.” - -“If I had done my duty it’d ha’ gone there tonight.” - -Said Eliza: “You haven’t done it, Joe, so it’s no use talking. And if I -have a say in the matter, you are not going to do it now.” - -Here were the makings of a very pretty quarrel. But Eliza had one -signal advantage. She knew her own mind, whereas Joe evidently did not -know his. By his own admission he had already been guilty of a grave -lapse of duty. And in Eliza’s view that was a strong argument why the -creature should stay where it was. It would be foolish for Joe to give -himself away by taking it to Scotland Yard. - -The argument was sound as far as it went, but when it came to the -business of the Metropolitan Force, Joe was a man with a conscience. As -he said, with a dour look at Harriet, two wrongs didn’t make a right, -and to suppress the truth by keeping the kid would not clear him. - -But Eliza was adamant. Joe had made a fool of himself already. He had -nothing to gain by landing himself deeper in the mire, whereas the -heart of a mother had yearned a long eight years for the highest gift -of Providence. The truth was that from the outset Joseph Kelly had -precious little chance of doing his duty in the matter. - -Perhaps he knew that. At any rate he did not argue his case as strongly -as he might have done. And Eliza, rocking the babe on her knee, in the -seventh heaven of bliss, rent Joe in pieces, laughed him to scorn. -Harriet, standing by, a curious look on her face, well knew how to -second her; yet the younger woman did not say a word. - -In a very few minutes Joe had hauled down his flag. Really he had not -a chance. It was a very serious lapse from the path of duty, but what -could he do, the simpleton! - -“‘Finding is keeping’ with this bairn,” said the triumphant Eliza. - -It was then that the silent, anxious, hovering Harriet claimed a share -of the spoils of victory. - -“Eliza,” she said, “if you are to be the sweet thing’s mother, I must -be its godmother.” - -“You shall be, my dear.” - -Harriet sealed the compact by a swift, stealthy kiss upon the cheek -of the foundling, who now slept like a cherub on the knee of its new -parent. - -“The lamb!” whispered Eliza. - -Tears of happiness came into the eyes of the mother-elect. Harriet -turned suddenly away as if unable to bear the sight of them. - -Said Joe to himself: “This is what I call a rum ’un.” But even in the -moment of his overthrow, he did not forget the philosophical outlook of -that august body of men, whose trust he had betrayed. He turned to his -long neglected cup of tea, now cold alas! and swallowed it at a gulp. -He then went on with the solemn business of toasting bread and eating -it. - -To add to Joe’s sense of defeat, the two women paid him no more -attention now than if he had not been in the room at all. - -“The sweetest thing!” whispered the one ecstatically. - -“What shall we call it?” whispered the other. - -“A boy or a girl?” - -“Oh, a girl.” - -“How do you know?” - -“By its mouth. A boy could never have a mouth like that.” - -“I don’t know that, my dear. I’ve seen boys with mouths----” - -“But look at the dimples, my dear.” - -“I have seen boys with dimples----” - -“----Joe Kelly, you are the durnedest fool alive.” This emotioned -statement was the grace to a very substantial slice of buttered toast. -Joe ate steadily, but his countenance now bore a family likeness to -that of a bear. - -“Suppose we say Mary? It’s the best name there is, I always think.” - -“But it may turn out a George, my dear. I hope it will.” - -“I feel sure it’s a Mary,” affirmed the godmother of the sleeping babe. -“I wonder who are the parents?” - -“Whoever’s child it may be,” said the mother-elect, “one thing is sure. -They are people well up. I don’t think I ever saw a child so cared for. -And, my dear, look at the shape of that chin and the set of that ear. -And that lovely hand--a perfect picture with its filbert nails. Look at -the fall of those eyelids. No wonder it comes out of Grosvenor Square.” - -“Grosvenor Square I’ll not swear to,” came a further interpellation -from the table. - -“Get on with your tea, Joe,” said the mother-elect. “What we are -talking of is no concern of yours.” - -The miserable Joe took off his boots and put on a pair of carpet -slippers. - -“You’ve made a bad slip-up, my boy,” he remarked, as he did so. - -The two women continued to croon over the wonder-child. Joe took -a pipe, filled it with shag and lit it dubiously. This was a bad -business. He was a great philosopher, as all policemen are, but -whenever a grim eye strayed across the hearth, it was followed by a -frown and a grunt of perplexity. - -Joe smoked solemnly. The women prattled on. But quite suddenly, like -a bolt from a clear sky, there came a very unwelcome intrusion. The -street door was flung open and a young constable entered breathlessly. - -Dugald Maclean was received with surprise, anger, and dismay. “Now -then, my lad, what about it?” demanded Joe, with a snarl of suppressed -fury. - -“I’m seekin’ ‘Urban Love, a trilogy,’” proclaimed Dugald Maclean; and -he spoke as if the fate of the empires hung upon his finding it. - -“Seekin’ what, you durned Scotchman?” said the alarmed and disgusted -Joe. - -With deadly composure, Harriet rose from the side of the sleeping babe. - -“Mr. Maclean, it is there,” she said, icily. And she pointed to the -table where the precious manuscript reclined. - -“Thank ye,” said Dugald, coolly. And he proceeded to button into his -tunic “Urban Love, a trilogy.” - -But the mischief was done. The alert eye of an ambitious police -constable had traveled from the open basket at one side of the fire to -the object at the other, sleeping gently now upon Eliza’s knee. A slow -grin crept over a freckled but vulpine countenance. - -“Blame my cats,” he muttered, “so there’s the young spannil.” - -Joe rose majestically. He said not a word, but again taking the -intruder very firmly by the collar of his regulation overcoat, hustled -him with quiet truculence through the open door into the street. -Closing the door and turning the key, he then went back to his -meditations, looking more than ever like a disgruntled bear. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -AUNT ANNIE AND AUNTY HARRIET - - -I - -AUNT ANNIE was the first to be told the great news. In the view of -both nieces it was in the natural order of things that this august -lady should take precedence of the rest of the world. She was so -incontestably the family “personage,” the eminence she occupied was -such a dizzy one, that it would have been just as unthinkable not to -grant her priority in a matter of such vital importance, as it would -have been to deny it to Queen Victoria in an affair of State. - -In point of fact, Aunt Annie, within her own orbit, was the counterpart -and reflection of her Sovereign. In an outlook they were alike, they -were alike in the range of their ideas, and well-informed people had -said that they had tricks of speech and manner in common. This may have -been a little in excess of the truth, one of those genial pleasantries -it is the part of wisdom to accept in the spirit in which they are -offered, but it would be wrong to deny that in the suburb of Laxton -Aunt Annie took rank as a very great lady. - -It is true that she lived in a small and modest house in an -unpretentious street, but all the world knew that the flower of her -years had been passed in abodes very different. And not only that, it -was also known that every year on her birthday, the twenty-sixth of -March, those whom it is hardly right to mention in these humble pages -came to call on her. On the twenty-sixth of every March, sometime -in the afternoon, a remarkable equipage would appear before the -chaste precincts of “Bowley,” Croxton Park Road. At that hour every -self-respecting pair of eyes in the immediate neighborhood would be -ambushed discreetly behind curtains in order to watch the descent of a -real live princess with a neat parcel. - -The contents of the parcel were said to vary from year to year. Now it -would be a piece of choice needlework, fashioned by the accomplished -hands of Royalty itself, which would take the shape of a cushion or -a footstool, now a framed photograph of Prince Adolphus or Princess -Geraldine in significant stages of their adolescence, now a chart of -the august features of even more important members of the family. Many -were the historical objects disposed about Aunt Annie’s sitting-room, -which the elect of the neighborhood had the privilege of seeing and -handling when they came to call upon her. But when all was said, the -undoubted gem of the collection was a superb edition, bound in full -calf, of the Poems of A. L. O. E., with a certain signature upon the -fly-leaf. This was always kept under glass. - -It chanced that Aunt Annie had invited herself to tea at Number Five, -Beaconsfield Villas, the day after the arrival of the babe. This was -strictly in accord with rule and precedent. She was far too much a -personage to be invited by her niece Eliza, but if she intimated by -a letter, which was the last word in precision, that she proposed to -call on a certain day, Eliza humbly and gratefully overhauled the best -tea service and polished the lacquer tray which was only used on State -occasions. - -Not merely the mother-elect, but also godmother Harriet, saw the hand -of a very special Providence in the impending visit of Aunt Annie to -Beaconsfield Villas. It was only right and fit that the news should be -first told to her. The matter must have her sanction. By comparison the -rest of the world was of small account. The entire clan Sanderson lived -in awe of her, and particularly her imprudent and démodé niece Eliza. -The prestige of Aunt Annie was immense, and it did not make things -easier for those who lived within the sphere of her influence that the -old lady was fully alive to the fact. - -Eliza confided to Harriet that she would breathe more freely when the -morrow’s visit had taken place. Harriet boldly said it didn’t really -matter what view Aunt Annie took of the affair. But Eliza knew better. -In spite of the joys of vicarious motherhood, there could be no peace -of mind for Eliza until the fateful day was over. - -Half-past four in the afternoon was the hour mentioned in the official -note. And it was then, punctual to the minute, that a vehicle of -antique design even for that remote period of the world’s history, -in charge of a Jehu to match it, drew up on the cobblestones exactly -opposite Number Five. The fog had cleared considerably since the -previous evening, therefore three urchins, spellbound by the appearance -of such a turnout in their own private thoroughfare, beheld the slow -and stately emergence of a superbly Victorian bonnet of the most -authentic design and a black mantle of impressive simplicity. - -Jehu, like the equipage itself, jobbed for the occasion, was the mirror -of true courtliness. He had an uncle in the Royal stables, therefore -he knew the deference due to the august Miss Sanderson. In promoting -her descent from the chariot he did not actually take off his hat, but -he stood with it off in spirit; a fact sufficiently clear to the three -youthful onlookers, one of whom remarked in a voice of awe, “It’s the -mayoress.” - -Eliza, quaking over her best tea service on its elegant tray, knew -without so much as a glance through the window that Aunt Annie had -come. But she waited for the knock. And then apronless, in her best -dress, with never a hair out of place, she opened the door with a -certain slow stateliness. Before her _mésalliance_ she had had great -prospects as lady’s maid. - -“Good morning, dear Eliza.” - -It was four o’clock in the afternoon, but the distinguished visitor -undoubtedly said, “Good morning, dear Eliza.” Moreover, she offered a -large and rigid cheek and Eliza pecked at it rather nervously. - -The door of Number Five closed upon Jehu, upon his wonderful and -fearful machine, and also upon the general public. - -“And how is Joseph?” - -“Nicely, thank you, Aunt Annie. I hope _you_ are quite well.” - -“As well as my rheumatism will permit.” - -“Won’t you take off your things?” - -“Thank you, no, my dear.” - -Aunt Annie would rather have died than take off her things in that -house. In her heart she had never been able to forgive Eliza her -marriage. Joseph Kelly was a worthy fellow no doubt, a good husband, -and a conscientious police officer, but by no exercise of the -imagination could he ever occupy the plane of a Sanderson. It may have -been mere pride of family but then pride of family is a queer thing. - -Poor Eliza had fallen sadly from grace. She had come down in the world, -whereas a true Sanderson always made a point of going up in it. Even if -Eliza’s relations as a whole were inclined to take a sympathetic view -of her marriage, the one among them who really counted, was never quite -able to overlook the fact in her dealings with her. Eliza had cause to -feel nervous for Aunt Annie was never so impressive as when she entered -the modest front parlor of Number Five. - -It was easy for Aunt Annie to do that, because nature was on her side. -With the honorable exception of her friend, Alderman Bradbury, the -present mayor of the borough, she had more personality than anyone in -Laxton. For forty years she had moved in the highest circles in the -land. Moreover, she had moved in them modestly, discreetly, with the -most punctilious good sense. She had known her place exactly, had kept -it, therefore, with ever increasing honor and renown; but the spirit of -imperious self-discipline which had entered into her in the process, -sternly required that ordinary people in their dealings with her should -know their place, too, and also be careful to keep it. In the domestic -circle Aunt Annie was a pitiless autocrat, and in public life even -the Mayor of Laxton and its leading Aldermen did not withhold their -deference when she condescended to converse with them upon matters -relating to the infant life of the borough. - -No wonder Laxton’s leading inhabitants kow-towed to Aunt Annie. No -wonder niece Eliza cowered in spirit when she superbly entered that -modest dwelling and sat in its most capacious chair. Tea was offered -her, without sugar and with only a very little milk according to her -stoical custom. - -“Thankee, my dear.” - -The great lady removed a black kid glove, and coquetted with a delicate -slice of bread and butter. If you have lived in palaces most of your -days you know that simplicity in all things is the true art of life. -Right at the back, as Eliza well knew, Aunt Annie was by no means so -simple as she made a point of seeming. Her tastes and manners were -modeled upon a sublime Original, but as the memoirs of the time have -shown in the one case that things may not be always what they seem, the -same held true in the other. - -Eliza had never felt so nervous in her life. Even the historic hour -in which she had first announced her engagement to Joe could hardly -compare with this. But it was not until Aunt Annie had passed to her -second piece of bread and butter that the thunderbolt fell. - -“A cradle, my dear!” - -It was quite true that a cradle was in the chimney corner, within three -yards of Laxton’s leading authority on the subject. Moreover, it was a -cradle of the latest design, a cradle of the most elegant contour, it -was a cradle provided with springs and lace curtains. - -Eliza blushed hotly and murmured something about Harriet having had it -sent that morning. And then all at once she became so confused that she -began to pour out her own tea into the slop-basin instead of the cup -provided for the purpose. - -“Harriet who, my dear?” - -There was only one Harriet, and Eliza knew that Aunt Annie knew that. -It was a mere ruse to gain time--if such a word can be used without -impropriety in such connection. Eliza sought to cover her confusion by -a sedulous holding of the tongue, and by an attempt to pour out her tea -as if she really knew what she was about. - -“What is there in it?” - -The demand was point-blank. It was almost passionate. - -Without waiting to be told what there was in it, Aunt Annie rose, tea -cup and all, and with the glower of a sibyl drew aside the curtains. - - -II - -Mary was sleeping. Empirical science had proved her beyond a doubt to -be a Mary. And she was sleeping as the best Marys do at the age of one -month and a bittock, with her thumb in her mouth--if they are allowed -to do so. - -To say that Aunt Annie was taken aback would be like saying that Zeus -was a little offended with certain events when he blew the planet Earth -out of the firmament in the year 19--. However!--it was as much as Aunt -Annie could do to believe the evidence of her eyes. She fronted her -niece augustly. - -“And you never told _me_, my dear.” - -“It didn’t come till last evening,” stammered Eliza. - -But a leading authority, even upon a subject so recondite, is not -deceived in that way. - -“The child is five weeks old if it’s an hour,” scornfully affirmed -the expert. “Besides,”--the eye of the expert transfixed her niece -piercingly--“do you suppose--a woman of my experience--needs to be -told--but why pursue the subject!” - -For the moment Eliza felt so guilty that she was quite unable to pursue -the subject. Yet there was no reason why she should allow herself to -be overwhelmed, except that Aunt Annie had an almost sublime power -of putting people in the wrong. The situation in sheer grandeur and -magnitude was altogether too much for her. And the mind of Aunt Annie, -capable of volcanic energy when dealing with the subject it had made -its own, had already traveled an alarming distance before Eliza could -impose any check upon it. - -“A very fine child--a very fine child indeed--but----!” - -The portentous gravity of the words should have brought a chill to -the soul of Eliza. But for some odd reason it caused her to laugh -hysterically. - -“It is not a laughing matter,” said the face of Aunt Annie; her stern -lips made no comment on the preposterous behavior of her niece. - -“She’s mine,” gasped Eliza, when laughter had brought her to the verge -of tears. - -“Tell that to the Marines,” said the face of Aunt Annie. In fact the -face of Aunt Annie said more than that. It said, “Eliza, I should like -to give you the soundest shaking you have ever had in your life.” - -“Joe and I have adopted it,” gurgled Eliza at last. - -Aunt Annie drew herself up to her full, formidable, dragoon-like height -of five feet ten inches, and gazed sublimely down from that Olympian -elevation. - -“Then why not say so, my dear, in so many words, without making -yourself so profoundly ridiculous?” - - -III - -With tingling ears, Eliza humbly admitted her fault. But as soon as -she had done so, there arose a serious problem, for a simple creature -in whose sight the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth -was very precious. Aunt Annie began to ask questions--questions which -forbade a person of ordinary discretion to answer with candor. - -Whose was the child? What was its origin? What did the parents----? Why -did the parents----? When did the parents----? Did Eliza fully realize -the grave nature of the responsibility she was taking upon herself? - -It was the last question of the series that Eliza answered first. And -this she did for a sufficient reason: to answer the others was wholly -beyond her power. - -“We may be doing a very unwise thing,” said Eliza. “Joe and I know -that.” - -“I am sure I hope you do, my dear. But tell me, where did you get it?” - -The voice of truth enjoined on a doorstep in Grosvenor Square, but the -voice of prudence said otherwise. And the voice of prudence sounded a -very clear and masterful note in Eliza’s ear, for Joe, Harriet, and -she were fully agreed that the true story must not be given to the -world. Diplomacy was called for. Such a forthright creature was quite -unversed in that dubious art, but she must prepare to use it now. - -“I promised I wouldn’t tell.” Alas! that crude formula was all in the -way of guile that poor flustered Eliza could muster at the moment. - -Less by instinctive cleverness than by divine accident there was a -world of meaning, however, in that faltering tone. And a word to the -wise is sufficient. There was not a wiser woman in England than Aunt -Annie, except--of course, that is to say!--speaking merely for the -lieges of the realm--. - -“Very well, I don’t press the question.” It was the tone she had once -accidentally overheard a very great Personage use to Lord Gr-nv-lle. - -Eliza sighed relief. - -“But, let me say this,” Aunt Annie looked steadily at her niece. “I ask -no questions in regard to the parents, but whoever they may be, you -must know that you run a risk. The offspring of a regular union are -often unsatisfactory, the offspring of an irregular union, although I -praise heaven I have had no personal experience of them, always bring -sorrow to those with whom they have to do.” - -Eliza could only reply that the creature was such a dear lamb that she -was quite prepared to take the risk. Aunt Annie shook a solemn head at -her niece, and then surveyed the infant in true professional style. -The babe still slept. Before the great critic and connoisseur made any -comment she removed the thumb from the delightful mouth. And the act -was done with such delicacy as not to bring a cloud to the dreams of -this wonderful Mary. - -This was a rosebud of a creature, and she lay in her grand cradle as -if she simply defied even the highest criticism to dispute the fact. -Certainly one who knew what babies were did not try to do so. Only one -remark was offered at that moment, but to the initiated it was worth -many volumes. - -“Whoever’s child it may be,” said Aunt Annie, “and mind I don’t go into -that, it is not a child of common parents.” - - -IV - -For some odd reason, Eliza was so intensely flattered by Aunt Annie’s -words, that she felt a desire to hug her. None knew so well as Eliza -that it was not a child of common parents, but it was not the way of -this expert to say so. The wonderful creature was “wrapt in mystery,” -but the hallmark of quality must have been stamped very deep for such a -one as Aunt Annie to commit herself to any such statement. Her standard -was princes and princesses. Every babe in Christendom was judged -thereby, and there was perhaps one in a million that could hope to -survive the test. - -A miracle had happened, but it was really too much to expect that the -cradle would have a share in it. Aunt Annie shook her head over the -cradle. It had too many fal-lals. She approved neither its curtains nor -its air of grandeur. She was a believer in plainness and simplicity. If -before incurring an unwarrantable expense, her niece had only mentioned -the matter, the great lady would have gone to Armitt’s personally and -have arranged for a replica of the hygienic but unpretentious design -supplied by that famous firm to the Nursery over which she had presided. - -Eliza, however, could accept no responsibility for the cradle. Harriet -had sent it that morning quite unexpectedly. Aunt Annie was a little -surprised that the taste of Bridport House in cradles was not a little -surer. Yet upon thinking the matter over she found she was less -surprised than she thought she was. The Dinnefords were a good family, -the Duke was esteemed, his late Duchess, for a brief period, had been -Mistress of the Posset, but after all Bridport House was not Bowley. -After all a Gulf was fixed. - -It was vain for Eliza to show how disappointed Harriet would be; the -cradle had so clearly cost a great deal of money. It had cost too much -money, that was the head and front of the cradle’s offending. There was -an air of the parvenu about it. Such a cradle would never have been -tolerated at Bowley, nay, it was open to doubt whether it would have -been tolerated at Bridport House. - -Aunt Annie was still discoursing upon cradles out of a full mind, when -Harriet herself came on the scene. She was spending a few days at -Number Five, Beaconsfield Villas before going down to Buntisford, and -she had now returned from a day’s shopping in London. She knew that -Aunt Annie was coming to tea, yet in spite of being forewarned, the -sight of the dominant old lady seated at the table seemed to dash her -at once. - -For one thing, perhaps they were not the greatest of friends. It may -have been that Bowley set too high a value upon itself in the eyes -of Bridport House, it may have been that Bridport House held itself -too independent in the eyes of Bowley. The clan Sanderson, one and -all, revered Aunt Annie; there was no gainsaying that her career had -been immensely distinguished; but at this moment Harriet’s greeting -certainly seemed just a little perfunctory; it might even be said to -have a covert antagonism. - -Harriet’s health was tenderly inquired after, she was solemnly -congratulated on her recent appointment, which did her much credit and -conferred honor upon her family; but it was soon apparent that there -was only one subject, to which, at that moment, Harriet could give her -mind. Had she been the mother of the babe, instead of the godmother -merely, her impatience to draw aside the curtains of the cradle could -hardly have been greater, or her delight in looking upon a ravishing -spectacle when she had done so. - -Even the stern criticism of those curtains she did not heed, until -she had gazed her fill. It was a babe in a million. And when at last -she was up against the curtains, so to speak, instead of meeting the -curtains fairly and squarely, she began to paint extravagant pictures -of the future. - -Her name was Mary. That was settled. She was to be brought up most -carefully; indeed, it was decided already that she was to have a -first-rate education. - -“A first-rate education!” There was a slight curl of a critical lip. - -“Why not?” inquired godmother Harriet. - -“The expense, my dear!” - -“I think I shall be able to afford it.” - -“_You_, my dear,” said Aunt Annie, rather pointedly. - -“I am the godmother,” said Harriet, with the light of battle in her -eyes. - -“So I hear. But don’t forget she is to be the child of a police -constable.” - -“She is not the child of a police constable,” said Harriet, with a -mounting color. - -“I don’t know whose child she is. That is a question I prefer to avoid. -But in my humble opinion it will be a grave mistake to educate her -above the class to which it has pleased Providence to call her. No good -can come of it.” - -“That’s nonsense!” The fine voice had a slight tremble in it. - -Aunt Annie looked down her large nose. “At any rate, that has always -been my view. And it has always been the view of, I will not say who. -It is very perilous to tamper with the order of Divine Providence. -And I am surprised that one who has been called to a position of high -responsibility should think otherwise.” - -The quick flush upon Harriet’s cheek showed that the old lady had got -home. She was always formidable at close quarters; even Harriet had to -be wary in trying a fall with her. - -“The child must have a good, sensible upbringing. Let her be taught -cooking, sewing, plain needlework, and so on. And _I_ shall be very -glad to give a little advice from time to time. But I repeat it will be -most unwise to set her up, no matter who her parents may be, above the -station in life to which it has pleased Providence to call her.” - -Again the light of battle darkened the eyes of Harriet. - -“It is early days at present to talk about it,” she said. And she -laughed suddenly in a high-pitched key. - - -V - -Water flowed under London Bridge. The flight of time demanded that Mary -should fulfill her promise of being the most wonderful child ever seen. -She did not fail, but grew in grace and beauty like a flower. At the -date of her arrival her age was deemed to be one month. By the time it -had been multiplied by twelve a personality had begun to emerge, twelve -months later it was possible to gauge it. - -There never was such a child. Eliza held that opinion from the first, -and godmother Harriet shared it. Aunt Annie was more discreet, but her -actions expressed an interest of the highest kind. From the moment she -had committed herself to the memorable statement that “Whoever’s child -she may be, she is not a child of common parents,” there was really no -more to be said. But as the months passed and Mary became Mary yet more -definitely, the old lady, to the astonishment of both her nieces, began -to identify herself intimately with the fortunes of the creature. - -The critical age of two was safely passed. And the age of three found -Mary more than ever the cynosure of Number Five, Beaconsfield Villas. -The infant had such health, her eyes were so blue, her laugh was so -gay, her rose-bloom tints were so dazzling, that the childless hearth -of the Kellys’ was somehow touched with the hues of Paradise. In -moments of gloom Joe had his doubts, and now and again expressed them. -He had certainly done very wrong, the whole matter was most irregular, -but the look in Eliza’s face was a living contradiction to official -pessimism. - -In the meantime Aunt Annie sat many an hour, spectacles on nose, making -“undies” for her new niece. The old lady was much courted by the rest -of her family. Even amid the remoter outposts of the clan, her word was -law. Apart from the romance of her career, she enjoyed a substantial -pension, she owned house property, and the stocking in which she kept -her savings was known to be a long one. But beyond all things was the -woman herself. It was sheer weight of character that gave her such a -special place among her peers. - -The clan Sanderson was extensive, and inclined to exclude. There were -Sandersons holding positions of trust in various parts of London and -the country. There was Mr. George Sanderson, who was in a bank at -Surbiton, who, if he did not actually share the apex with his cousin -Annie, was immensely looked up to; there was Francis, who, from very -small beginnings, had blossomed into a chartered accountant; there was -young Lawrence, of the new generation, who had given up being a page -boy in very good service, for the lures of journalism. He was far from -being approved by his Aunt Annie, and he had not the sanction of his -Uncle George, but he was understood to be doing very well, and if he -only kept on long enough and made sufficiently good in this eccentric -way of life, the mandarins of the family might regard him a little more -hopefully. Finally, there was Harriet. Hers was a truly remarkable -case. - -At the age of twenty-nine, without special training or any particular -influence, she had been made housekeeper to the Duke of Bridport at -Buntisford Hall, Essex. The more modern minds among the clan might -affect to despise a success of that kind, but for generations there had -been a sort of feudal connection between the great house of Dinneford -and the honest race of yeomen who had served it. Chartered Accountant -Francis might smile in a superior way, young Lawrence of Fleet Street, -a perfect anarchist of a fellow, might scoff, but every true-blue -Sanderson of the older generation was amazed at Harriet’s achievement, -and felt a personal pride in it. - -Aunt Annie, who had a temperamental dislike of Harriet, was the -first to admit that the rise of her niece had been very remarkable. -The august Miss Sanderson was an unequaled judge of what Mr. George -Sanderson called “general conditions.” Her own historical career -had given her peculiar facilities for gauging the lie of a country, -socially speaking, her sense of values was absolutely correct, and she -was constrained to admit, much as it hurt her to do so, that Harriet’s -success had no parallel in her experience. - -Eliza Kelly occupied a very different place in the hierarchy. She was -perilously near the base of the statue. Her brothers, her sisters, her -uncles, her cousins, and her aunts, had always made a practice of going -up in the world, but she had unmistakably come down in it. It was not -that they had anything against Joe personally. He was sober, honest, a -good husband, and he well knew the place allotted to him by an all-wise -Providence. But when the best had been said for him he was not, and -could never hope to be, a Sanderson. - -It was, therefore, the more surprising that Aunt Annie should take so -great an interest in the waif that the Kellys had adopted. None knew -the name of its parents, none so much as ventured to hint at the source -of its origin, yet the mandarin-in-chief accepted it as soon as she -set eyes upon it, and month by month, year by year, to the increasing -surprise of the clan as a whole, her regard for the creature waxed in -ever growing proportions. - -Mrs. Francis--A Miss Best, of Sheffield--had given an account of her -afternoon call at Bowley, which she had timed as usual for the day -after Royalty had paid its annual visit. Mrs. F.--in the family, she -was always Mrs. F.--had then seen Mary for the first time. And although -she had five of her own, the child had made a great impression. She was -like a fairy, with vivid eyes and wonderful hair, which Aunt Annie used -to brush over a stick every time she came to Croxton Park Road; her -clothes were simple and in perfect taste, but of a style and quality -far beyond the reach of Mrs. F.’s own progeny. She was then a little -more than three, and not only Mrs. F., but _others_, according to Aunt -Annie’s account of the matter, had been greatly struck by her. She -certainly made a picture with her dainty limbs, her laughing eyes, her -flaxen curls. All the same, it was very absurd that the child should be -turned out in that way. Eliza and Joe could not possibly afford it, and -if the old lady was responsible, as was feared was the case, she ought -to have had more sense than to set her up in that way. - -As the result of inquiries, Mrs. F. felt bound to make in the matter, -and there were very few matters in which Mrs. F. did not feel bound -to make inquiries of one kind or another, it appeared that Aunt Annie -was not responsible for her clothes. The clothes lay at the door of -godmother Harriet. She had insisted on choosing them, and had further -insisted on sharing the considerable expense they involved. Mrs. -F. gathered that in the opinion of Aunt Annie and also in that of -Eliza, godmother Harriet was inclined to abuse her position. She was -always insisting. No detail of the creature’s upbringing escaped her -interference. She must have her say in everything; indeed, she came -over from Buntisford regularly once a week for the purpose of having -it. At Beaconsfield Villas, and also at Bowley, she took a very high -tone, which Eliza and Aunt Annie strongly resented. But it seemed there -was no remedy. Harriet was the godmother, she had her rights, her will -was as imperious as Aunt Annie’s own--and her purse seemed fathomless. - -As soon as Mary was four, it was settled that she should go every -morning to Bowley to be taught her letters. And she must be taken -there by a girl “who spoke nicely.” It seemed that a girl, who spoke -nicely, was a rather rare bird in Laxton. At any rate Eliza having -been compelled in the first place to yield to a nursemaid, had many to -review before one was found whose style of delivery could satisfy the -fastidious ear of Aunty Harriet. - -Eliza might be piqued by such “officiousness,” but she could not deny -that Harriet had reason on her side. Perhaps it was overdoing things -a bit for people in their position, but Eliza, if fallen from high -estate, was still at heart a Sanderson. Therefore she knew what was -what. And the secret was hers that the child’s real home was a long way -from Number Five, Beaconsfield Villas, Laxton. Eliza could never quite -forget the source of origin of her adopted daughter. - -Every month that went by seemed to make it increasingly difficult to -forget that. Princess Geraldine herself, that figure of legend who used -to call at Bowley every twenty-sixth of March, could never have been -in more devout or judicious hands than little Mistress Mary in that -of the Council of Three, not to mention those of Miss Sarah Allcock, -specially coöpted. No child so tended and cared for, whose welfare was -so carefully studied by experts, could have failed to grow in beauty -and grace. She was so perfectly charming and superb when in the charge -of the discreet Miss Allcock, she took the air with her wonderful hair, -her patrician features and her white socks, that the nearest neighbors -began to resent it. It was considered rather swank on the part of the -Kellys to set up such a child at all. They were surprised that Joe, a -popular man, should not have a truer sense of the fitness of things. -They were less surprised at Mrs. Joe, who was not quite so popular. But -Joe was a sensible fellow, and he should have seen to it that the child -did not become the talk of the neighborhood. - -Yet, after all, it may not have been so much the fault of Joe or of -Eliza, his wife, that the child became the talk of the neighborhood. -In the purview of local society, whose salon was Mrs. Connor’s, the -greengrocer’s lady, at the end of the street, the blame lay at the door -of Miss Sarah Allcock. The truth was the incursion of Miss Allcock was -keenly resented by the local ladies. She was altogether too fine--yet -the odd thing was that she was not fine at all. But she was in every -way uncommonly superior. No greater tribute could have been paid to -the social supremacy of the presiding genius of Croxton Park Road, -or to the strength of character of Aunty Harriet, than that such a -one as Miss Allcock should condescend to Beaconsfield Villas. Truth -to tell, Miss Allcock was a remote connection of the clan Sanderson, -although never admitted as such by the mandarins. But she knew there -were strings to pull, and a good place had been guaranteed her when she -really started out in service. - -All the same, as far as the neighbors were concerned, Miss Sarah -Allcock was an error of judgment. She was amazingly neat and trim, she -had the true Sanderson refinement of manner and address, she was fond -of airing her voice to her charge with all sorts of subtle Mayfair -inflections, and she looked _away_ from the neighbors as if they were -dirt. As if they were dirt--that was the gravamen of their complaint in -the sympathetic ear of Mrs. Bridgit Connor. - -Mrs. Bridgit Connor, the greengrocer’s wife, was a widespread lady -of Irish descent, of great but fluctuating charm, and unfailing -volubility. Her vocabulary was immense, but scorn often taxed it. Her -scorn of Miss Allcock taxed it to the breaking point. Born on a bog and -descended in the remote past from the kings of the earth, Mrs. Connor -had facilities of speech and gesture denied to the common run of her -kind. She avenged the slights put by Miss Allcock upon herself and -friends by alluding to that lady’s charge in a loud voice whenever -opportunity offered as “a by-blow,” or “a no-man’s child.” - -When Mary was five there arose the grand question of her education -proper. At first a great clash of wills was threatened. Aunt Annie -had her views. Aunty Harriet had hers. Eliza, being merely “the -mother,” was not allowed to have any. Aunty Harriet thought perhaps the -kindergarten. Aunt Annie did not believe in such new-fangled nonsense. -Besides no kindergarten would take her. - -“Why not?” asked Aunty Harriet. But as she spoke there came a slight -flush to the proud face. - -“Because they won’t,” said Aunt Annie with stern finality. “All schools -of the better sort are very particular.” - -Aunty Harriet bit her lip sharply. She retorted, perhaps unwisely, that -if they were not very particular they would cease to be schools of the -better sort. - -“Quite so,” said Aunt Annie. - -For the moment it looked as if daggers were going to be drawn. These -two were always at the verge of conflict. Both were impatient of any -kind of opposition, and in the matter of young Mistress Mary they -seldom saw eye to eye. Aunt Annie did not disguise her opinion that -Aunty Harriet was inclined to take too much upon herself, and Aunty -Harriet had no difficulty in returning the compliment. - -But Harriet had great common sense, and she was a woman of action. She -was not the one tamely to accept the decree about schools of the better -sort, but began to make researches of her own into the subject. She -was very hard to please, both in regard to the style of the school -and the condition of the scholars, and when at last one had been -found which met the case, there arose the difficulties Aunt Annie had -predicted. A child of parentage unknown, adopted by the family of a -police constable, did not commend herself to the Misses Lippincott of -Broadwood House Academy. To Aunty Harriet this seemed a great pity; the -school presided over by those ladies was exactly suitable. Its tone -was high but not pretentious; the small daughters and the smaller sons -of Laxton’s leading tradesmen mingled with those of its professional -classes, and its reputation was so good that Aunty Harriet, after a -discreet interview with the elder Miss Lippincott, a bishop’s daughter -and a university graduate, set her mind upon it. - -Howbeit, the austere Miss Lippincott showed no inclination to receive -the adopted child of a police constable as a pupil at Broadwood -House Academy. This was not conveyed to Miss Harriet Sanderson in so -many words, but in the course of the next day she received a letter, -delicately-worded, to that effect. However, she did not give in, as -smaller and weaker people might have done, but she put her pride in -her pocket and, looking the facts in the face, went to take counsel at -Bowley. - -“What did I tell you, my dear!” said Aunt Annie. To refrain from that -observation would have been superhuman. But the observation duly made, -the old lady also revealed the divine gift of common sense. From all -that she had heard the establishment of the Misses Lippincott was -immensely desirable. Moreover, she clearly remembered the Bishop, their -late father, coming to spend the week-end at the real Bowley, and -hearing him preach a singularly moving sermon in the little parish -church. Small wonder, then, that the tone of Broadwood House Academy -was “exactly right” in every human particular; besides, Aunt Annie had -met and approved Miss Priscilla Lippincott on two occasions. Therefore, -the old lady promised Aunty Harriet that she herself would see what -could be done in the matter. - -The first thing Aunt Annie did was to induce the Mayoress, Mrs. -Alderman Bradbury, to say a word on the child’s behalf. She promptly -followed up this piece of strategy by ordering her state chariot to -drive Mistress Mary and herself to Broadwood House Academy. - -The child was looking her best. Her carefully-brushed tresses shone -like woven sunbeams, her slight, trim form was clothed with taste and -elegance, her laughing eyes were frankly unabashed by the demure Miss -Priscilla, nay, even by the august Miss Lippincott herself. The effect -she made was entirely favorable. Besides, the Mayoress had taken the -trouble to call the previous afternoon in order to speak for her, and -Miss Sanderson, as the Misses Lippincott knew, was looked up to in -Laxton; therefore, out of regard for all the circumstances, a point -was waived and little Miss Kelly was reluctantly admitted to Broadwood -House Academy. - - -VI - -The Misses Lippincott never had cause to rue their temerity. Little -Miss Kelly remained in their care until she was big Miss Kelly, a -brilliant and dashing creature with a quite extraordinary length -of black stocking. Neither Miss Lippincott nor Miss Priscilla ever -regretted her democratic action. In fact, it was a source of jealous -remark, even among the most distinguished scholars of Broadwood House -Academy, that not one of them could wear the black beaver hat with the -purple ribbon and its gold monogram B. H. A., or the blue ulster with -gilt buttons, in quite the way that these modish emblems were worn by -Mary Kelly. - -It greatly annoyed Ethel Cliffe, who lived in The Park, and was a -daughter of Sir Joseph, three times Mayor of Laxton, that in looks -and popularity she had to yield to the offspring of very much humbler -parents, who lived in quite an obscure part of the borough. But it had -to be. Year by year the cuckoo that had entered the nest grew in beauty -and favor, while the legitimate denizens of Broadwood House could only -bite their lips and marvel. In the opinion of Ethel Cliffe and her -peers, old Dame Nature must be a perfect idiot not to know her business -a bit better. - -It was not that Mary Kelly made enemies. Her disposition was open, -free, and fearless; her heart was gold. Then, too, in most things, she -was amazingly quick. She never made any bones about reading, writing, -arithmetic, geography, and so on, she was good at freehand drawing, and -the use of the globes, in Swedish drill and ball games, particularly at -hockey, she was wonderful, and in music and dancing there was none in -the school to compare with her. The only things in which she did not -really excel were plain needlework and religious knowledge. These bored -her to tears--except that she proudly reserved her tears for matters -which seemed of more consequence. - -As Mary Kelly’s stockings got longer and longer the supremacy of Ethel -Cliffe grew even less secure. Even at Broadwood House Academy it was -impossible to subsist entirely on your social eminence. Ethel had -openly sneered at the outsider upon her first intrusion in the fold; -the only daughter of a very recent knight found it hard to breathe -the same air as the offspring of a humble police constable. But Dame -Nature, in her ignorant way, bungled the whole thing so miserably, that -while Ethel was always very near the bottom of the class, Mary was -generally at the top of it; Ethel was heavy and humorless, and inclined -to take refuge in her dignity, Mary was _bon enfant_, with very little -in the way of dignity in which to take refuge. And in proof of that, a -story was told of her, soon after she passed the age of ten, which ran -like wildfire throughout Broadwood House Academy. - -It seemed that in the vicinity of Mary’s undistinguished home were -certain rude boys. Foremost among them was Mrs. Connor’s Michael, the -youngest and not the least vocal of her numerous progeny. And it often -happened that Michael was _en route_ from his own seat of learning, -where manners did not appear to be in the curriculum, when Mistress -Mary was on the way home from Broadwood House Academy, where manners -undoubtedly were. In the opinion of Michael’s mother the Connors were -quite as good as the Kellys--very much better if it came to that!--and -this tradition had been freely imbibed by her youngest hope. The -Connors were quite as good as the Kellys, Michael was always careful to -inform his peers, but the haughty beauty of Beaconsfield Villas, in her -beaver hat and blue ulster with gilt buttons did not share that view. -She had simply not so much as a look for Michael and his friends. This -aloofness galled them bitterly. - -Had she only known such aristocratic indifference was rather cruel. -For Michael’s one distinction among his mates, apart from his skill -as a marble-player, which was very considerable, was that he lived in -the same street as Miss Kelly. She was out and away the most wonderful -creature ever seen in that part of Laxton. It was hard to forgive -her for carrying her head in the way she did, yet it somehow added -still greater piquancy to a personality that simply haunted the manly -bosoms of the neighborhood. But her aloofness was felt to be such a -reflection upon Michael himself, that at last that warrior was moved to -a desperate course. - -He took the extreme measure of offering Miss Kelly his best blood -alley. But it was in vain; Miss Kelly would have none of his best blood -alley, or of its owner. Michael then decided upon war. - -In discussing the Kellys on the domestic hearth, he had heard his -mother cast grave doubts upon the ancestry of their so-called daughter. -Therefore, the spirit of revenge, rankling in Michael’s tormented -breast, urged him to adopt a certain rhyme, current at the time, for -the chastening of this haughty charmer. Together with a few chosen -braves he lay in ambush for her as she wended her proud way home from -Broadwood House Academy. As soon as Mary Kelly hove in sight round the -corner of Grove Street, S.E., these heroes burst into song:-- - - “I am Mary Plantagenet. - What would imagine it? - Eyes full of liquid fire, - Hair bright as jet. - No one knows my history - I am wrapt in mystery - I am the she-ro - Of a penny novelette.” - -On the occasion of the first performance, Miss Kelly did not deign to -take the slightest notice. But after it had been repeated a number of -times with increasing _réclame_, it grew more than she could brook. -One never-to-be-forgotten Friday evening, in the fall of the year, she -suddenly handed her satchel of books to her friend, Rose Pierce, and -with decks cleared for action and the flame of battle in her eyes, bore -down upon the foe. Michael Conner afterwards took his book oath to the -effect that he was not a coward. But the beaver hat, the purple ribbon, -the blue ulster and the gilt buttons put the fear of God into him very -surely. He ran. Alas, he was a stocky youth, not exactly an Ormonde, -even in his best paces, whereas Mary Plantagenet, black stockings and -all, moved like a thoroughbred. She chased him remorselessly the whole -length of Longmore Street, through the Quadrant, finally cornered him -in a blind alley in which he had the bad judgment to seek refuge, and -soundly boxed his ears. - -As far as Mary Kelly was concerned the incident was closed from that -moment. Michael Connor very wisely decided to close it also. He -returned to his marble-playing a chastened boy. But Rose Pierce, the -daughter of Laxton’s leading physician, told the story breathlessly at -Broadwood House Academy on the following morning. All agreed that the -prestige of the school had been seriously impaired, but Miss Kelly was -Mary Plantagenet from that time on. - - -VII - -By the time Mary was fourteen, Broadwood House Academy had taught -her most of what it knew. Then arose the question of her future. The -Kellys were people in humble circumstances, and it was felt that the -child must be put in the way of getting a living. Eliza suggested a -shop, Aunt Annie shorthand and typewriting, as she was so quick at her -books, but Aunty Harriet vetoed them promptly. And as year by year that -autocrat--promoted since the Duke’s breakdown in health to the very -important post of housekeeper at Bridport House, Mayfair--had supported -the operations of a strong will with an active power of the purse, she -carried the day as usual. Mary must be a hospital nurse. - -To this scheme, however, there was one serious drawback. No hospital -would admit her for training until she was twenty-one. The problem now -was, what she should do in the meantime. In order to meet it the Misses -Lippincott allowed her to stay on as a special pupil at Broadwood -House. Paying no fees, she gave a hand with the younger children, and -was able to continue the study of music, for which she showed a special -aptitude. - -For a time this plan answered very well. The Misses Lippincott had a -great regard for Mary. In every way she was a credit to the school. Her -natural gifts were of so high an order that these ladies felt that a -career was open to her. There was nothing she might not achieve if she -set her mind upon it, always excepting plain needlework and religious -knowledge, and perhaps freehand drawing, in which she was a little -disappointing also. Brimming with vitality and the joy of life and yet -with her gay enthusiasm was now coming to be mingled a certain ambition. - -As month by month she grew into a creature of charm and magnetism, she -seemed to learn the power within herself. But that discovery brought -the knowledge that she was a bird in a cage. The daily round began to -pall. A rare spirit had perceived bars. Broadwood House Academy was -dear to her, but she now craved a larger, a diviner air. - -It chanced that she was to be put in the way of her desire. Once a -week there came to the school a Miss Waddington, to give lessons in -dancing. A pupil of the famous Madame Lemaire, of Park Street, Chelsea, -this lady was an accomplished, as well as a very knowledgeable person. -From the first she had been greatly attracted by Mary Kelly. An -instructed eye saw at once that the girl had personality. Not only was -it expressed in form and feature, it was in her outlook, her ideas. -There was a rhythm in all that she did, a poetry in the smallest of her -actions. - -This girl was like no other. And Miss Waddington grew so much impressed -that at last came the proud day, when by permission of the Misses -Lippincott, Mary was taken to Park Street to the academy, in order that -her gifts might be assessed by “Madame.” - -The opinion of that famous lady, promulgated in due course, caused a -nine days’ wonder at Broadwood House. Madame Lemaire, it seemed, had -been so much smitten by the lithe charm of young Miss Kelly, that she -offered to take her in at Park Street and train her free of charge for -three years. - -At once the girl grew wild to take her chance. It meant escape from a -life that had already begun to cast long shadows. But her home people -saw the thing in a very different light. In their opinion there was -a wide gulf between the respectability of Broadwood House and the -licentious freedom of Chelsea. Joe and Eliza were at one with Aunt -Annie and Aunty Harriet in saying “No” to the proposal. - -Mistress Mary, however, was now rising sixteen with a rapidly -developing character of her own. Therefore she did not let the strength -of opposition daunt her. She set her mind firmly upon Park Street and -Madame Lemaire; and very soon, to the intense surprise and chagrin of -“her relations,” she had contrived to get the Misses Lippincott on her -side. - -Very luckily for Mary, those ladies were open-minded and worldly wise. -They saw that the career of a highly-trained dancer had prospects -far beyond those of a half-educated schoolmistress. Mary was rapidly -becoming an asset of Broadwood House, but the ladies, although perhaps -a little dubious, allowed themselves to be overpersuaded by Miss -Waddington and the girl herself. - -There followed a pretty to-do. Aunt Annie was horrified. Such a -career, with all deference to the Misses Lippincott, hardly sounded -respectable. As for Aunty Harriet, with her usual energy, she made -first-hand inquiries in regard to Madame Lemaire. She found that the -name of that lady stood high in her profession. But alas! one thing -leads to another. Aunty Harriet, who had a shrewd knack of taking long -views, had already espied the cloven hoof of the theater. It seemed -inevitable that such a girl as Mary should drift towards it. And of -that sinister institution Aunty Harriet had a pious horror. - -Therefore she opposed Park Street sternly. But the girl fully knew her -own mind and meant from the first to have her way. And she played her -cards so well that she got it somehow. No doubt it was judicious aid -from an influential quarter that finally carried the day. Be that as -it may, in spite of all sorts of gloomy prophecies, Mary was able to -accept an offer which was to change completely the current of her life. - - -VIII - -The move to Chelsea closed an epoch. At once Mary found herself in a -new and fascinating world. Part of the arrangement with Madame Lemaire -was that she should “live in” at Park Street, and have freedom to -take a fourpenny ’bus on Sundays to Beaconsfield Villas. This was -greatly to Mary’s liking. Chelsea, as she soon discovered, had an air -more rarefied than Laxton; somehow it had a magic which opened up -new vistas. She had been by no means unhappy at Broadwood House, her -foster-parents had treated her with every kindness, but she could not -help feeling that by comparison with the new life, the old one was -rather deadly. - -Of course, it would have been black ingratitude to admit anything of -the kind. Still, the fact was there. Park Street had a freedom, a -gayety, a careless bonhomie far removed from the austerity of Broadwood -House. Her life had been enlarged. The hours were long, the work was -hard, but her heart was in it, and the novel charm of her surroundings -was a perpetual delight. - -A month of Park Street brought more knowledge of the world than a -lustrum of Broadwood House. Madame Lemaire’s establishment was a famous -one, in fact the resort of fashion; to the perceptive Mary the people -with whom she had now to rub shoulders had real educational value. - -The girl was one of a number of articled pupils, who were taught -dancing in order to teach it again. With all of these she got on well. -Immensely likeable herself, she had an instinct for liking others. And -she was now among a rather picked lot, a little Bohemian perhaps in the -general range of their ideas, but friendly, amusing, and at heart “good -sorts.” Madame knew her business thoroughly. She seldom erred as to the -character and capacity of those whom she chose to help her in return -for a valuable training. - -Some of the girls who passed through her hands found their way on to -the stage. Distinguished names were among them. Indeed, the atmosphere -of Park Street was semi-theatrical. Dancing, elocution, singing, -physical culture, and fencing were the subjects taught at Madame -Lemaire’s academy. - -Mary remained nearly three years at Park Street. In that time she came -on amazingly. Awake from the first to a knowledge of her gifts, she -was secretly determined to use them in the carving out of a career. -Broadwood House had sown the seed of ambition; under the able tutelage -of Madame Lemaire it was to bear fruit. Stimulated by the outlook of -her new friends, soon she began to feel the lure of a larger life. She -craved for self-expression through the emotions, and all her energies -were bent upon the satisfaction of a vital need. - -In the early stages she owed much to Madame Lemaire, who approved her -ambition to the full. Here was a talent, and that lady did all in her -power to fit a brilliant pupil for the field best suited to it. Unknown -to Aunty Harriet, who still cherished the idea of a hospital at the age -of twenty-one, unknown to Aunt Annie, who would have been horrified, -unknown to Beaconsfield Villas, Mary with the future always before her, -set to work under the ægis of Madame to make her dreams come true. - -After many diligent months, in the course of which a singularly dainty -pair of feet were reënforced by a very serviceable soprano, there came -the day when she was given her chance. A theatrical manager, who made -a point of attending the annual display of Madame’s pupils at the -Terpsichorean Hall, was so struck by her abilities that he offered her -an engagement. It was true that it was merely to understudy in the -provinces a small part in a musical comedy. But it was a beginning, if -an humble one, and its acceptance was strongly advised. It meant the -opening of the magic door at which so many are doomed to knock in vain. -This girl should go far; but if the new life proved too hard, Madame -would be more than willing for her to return to Park Street as a member -of her staff. - -Alarums and excursions followed. Before a decision could be made the -girl felt in honor bound to consult godmother Harriet. So intensely had -that lady the welfare of Mary at heart, that she never failed to visit -Park Street once a week when in London. There was a very real bond of -sympathy between them, which time had deepened. Yet hitherto Mary had -not ventured to disclose the scope and nature of her plans. Alas! she -had now to launch a bolt from the blue. - -The blow fell one Wednesday afternoon when Aunty Harriet came as usual -to drink a weekly cup of tea at Park Street with her adopted niece. -Aunty Harriet, although she prided herself upon being a woman of the -world, was unable to entertain such an idea for a moment. Years ago it -had been decided that Mary was to be a hospital nurse. But Mary, now a -strong-willed creature of eighteen had made her own decision. For many -a month she had been working hard, unknown to her friends, in order to -seize the chance when it came. Moreover, she felt within herself that -she had found her true vocation. - -Aunty Harriet took a high tone. Three years before she had met defeat -at the hands of this headstrong young woman in alliance with the Misses -Lippincott. In secret, and for a reason only known to herself, she had -never ceased to deplore that fact. She made up her mind that she would -not be overcome a second time. But she was quite unable to shake the -girl’s determination. And there was Madame Lemaire to reckon with. -Indeed, that worldly-wise person seconded her clever pupil in the way -the Broadwood House ladies had. Nor was it luck altogether that for -a second time brought the girl such powerful backing when she needed -it most. Behind the engaging air of simple frankness was a will that -nothing could shake. - -The end of the matter was that two powerful natures came perilously -near the point of estrangement. Both had fully made up their minds. -That memorable Wednesday afternoon saw a veritable passage of arms, in -the course of which Mary, her back to the wall, at last threw down the -gage of battle. - -Her blunt refusal to submit to dictation came as a shock to Harriet, -whose distress seemed out of all proportion to its cause. But to her -the project was so demoralizing that she fought against it tooth and -nail. She enlisted Aunt Annie, now very infirm and less active as a -power, and the girl’s home people at Beaconsfield Villas. But all -opposition was vain. The young Amazon had cast the die for better or -for worse. To Harriet’s consternation she took the manager’s offer. -Disaster was predicted. There were heavy hearts in Laxton, but the -heaviest of all was at Bridport House, Mayfair. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -FLOWING WATER - - -I - -ON a spring afternoon, Mary at ease, novel in lap, let her mind flow -over the years in their passing. Four had gone by since she had defied -her family, in order to embrace a career, which in their view was full -of peril. But in spite of that, so far she had escaped disaster. And -fortune had been amazingly kind in the meantime. - -On the table near Mary’s elbow were five cups on a tray, and opposite, -also at ease, with her hands behind her shrewd head, was Milly Wren. -Mary had just begun to share a very comfortable flat with Milly and -Milly’s mother. - -Milly herself, in Mary’s opinion, was more than worthy of her -surroundings. Loyal, sympathetic, full of courage, she had served a far -longer apprenticeship to success than Mary had. She had “made good” in -the face of heavy odds. - -Milly had not a great talent. Force of character and singleness of aim -had brought her to the top, and only these, as she well knew, would -keep her there. But with Mary it was a different story. All sorts of -fairies had attended her birth. She had every gift for the career she -had chosen, moreover, she had them in abundance. Milly, who had gone up -the ladder a step at a time, would have been more than human had she -not envied her friend the qualities she wore with the indifference of a -regular royal queen. - -The clock on the chimney-piece struck four. - -“I’m feeling quite excited,” Milly suddenly remarked. - -From the depths of the opposite chair came the note which for six -months now had cast a spell upon London. - -“He mustn’t know that,” laughed Mary. “Dignity, my child, touched with -hauteur, is the prescription for a marquis. At least that’s according -to the book of the words.” And she gayly waved the novel she had -neglected for nearly an hour. - -“Oh, Sonny,” said Milly Wren, “I wasn’t thinking of _him_. I was -thinking of the friend he is bringing, who is simply dying to know you.” - -Mary knew this was quite true, for that was Milly’s way. - -“Oh, is he!” If the tone was disdain, its sting was masked by gentle -irony and humor. These airs and graces didn’t make enemies, they so -frankly belonged to the wonderful Mary Lawrence--her name in the -theater. That which might have been mere petulance in a nature thinner -of texture, became with her a half-royal impatience for the more -trivial aspects of the human comedy. - -“But I want to see him,” persisted Milly. “Sonny thinks no end of him.” - -“Then I’m sure he’s nice.” - -“Why do you think so?” Milly was a little intrigued by the warmth of -the words. - -“Because Lord Wrexham is charming.” - -Milly laughed. The naïve admiration was unexpected, the slightly too -respectful air was puzzling. Milly herself was so _blasé_ in regard to -the peerage that such an attitude of mind seemed almost provincial. Yet -she would have been the first to own that it was the only thing about -her enigmatic friend which suggested anything of the kind. - -“Sonny says he raves about you.” - -“It’s _his funeral_.” The laugh was honestly gay. “He’ll be very -disappointed, poor lad.” - -“Don’t fish.” - -“I never fish in shallow waters, Miss Wren.” - -“You are the most shameless angler I know. But you do it so beautifully -that people don’t realize what you are at.” - -“Unconsciously--say unconsciously,” came a flash from the opposite -chair. - -“So I used to think. Before I really knew you I thought everything you -said and did just happened so. But now I am not quite sure that you -have not thought everything out beforehand.” - -“Don’t make me out a horror.” - -“Anyway you are much the cleverest creature I have ever met. You are -so deep that there is no fathoming you. Somehow you are not the least -ordinary in anything.” - -Mary abruptly brought the conversation back to Sonny and his friend. -The latter, it seemed, had first gazed on the famous Miss Lawrence in -New York, at the Pumpernickel Theater, the previous year. - -“An American?” - -“No,” said Milly. “But he’s seen a lot of life out West.” - -Before other questions could rise to Mary’s lips, Mrs. Wren came in. -Milly’s mother was an elderly lady who had been on the stage. In the -first flight of her profession, life had given her many a shrewd -knock, but in the process she had picked up a considerable knowledge -of the world and its ways. She lived for Milly, in whom her every -thought was centered, for in the daughter the mother lived again. -Intensely ambitious for her, Mrs. Wren was a little inclined to resent -the intrusion within the nest of a bird of such dazzling plumage as -Mary Lawrence. At the same time that honest woman well knew that her -daughter had more to gain than she had to lose by sharing a roof with -such a supremely attractive stable companion. - -Mrs. Wren found it very difficult to place Mary Lawrence. In ideas and -outlook, in the face she showed to the world, she was far from being a -typical member of her calling as the good lady knew it. As Mrs. Wren -reckoned success, this girl had won it on two continents almost too -abundantly, but she seemed to hold it very cheap. Perhaps it had been -gained too easily. Milly’s mother, rather jealous, rather ambitious as -she was, could hardly find it in her heart to say it was undeserved, -but Mary Lawrence took the high gifts of fortune so much for granted, -almost as if they were a birthright, that the mother of her friend, -remembering the long years of her own thornily-crowned servitude, and -Milly’s hard struggle “to arrive,” could not help a feeling of secret -envy. - -“His lordship coming to tea?” said Mrs. Wren, with a demure glance at -the five cups on the tray. - -None knew so well as she that his lordship was coming to tea. She had -made elaborate preparations in toilette and confectionery in order to -receive him. But the phrase rose so histrionically to her lips that she -simply couldn’t resist it. Somehow it made such a perfect entrance, for -Milly’s mother carried a sense of the theater into private life. - -It would have been heartless of Milly, who belonged to another -generation, to have uttered the words on her tongue. And those words -were, “You know perfectly well that Sonny is coming.” - -“He said he was,” Milly’s reply was given with a patient smile that -concealed an infinity of boredom. Her mother, fussy, trite, rather -exasperating, had never quite learned amid all her jousts with the -world, to acquire the golden mean. There were times when she sorely -tried her clever and ambitious daughter, whose patience was little -short of angelic. - -“What’s the name of the friend he is bringing?” - -“Mr. Dinneford.” - -“Not another lord?” The tone of Mrs. Wren had a tiny note of -disappointment. - -“A rich commoner,” said Milly with a laugh. “At least Sonny says he -will be one of the richest men in England when his uncle dies. His -uncle, I believe, is a great swell.” - -“I don’t doubt it, dear,” said Mrs. Wren. - - -II - -An electric bell was heard to buzz. - -“They are here,” said Mrs. Wren in a tone with a thrill in it. - -A neat parlor maid announced “Lord Wrexham, Mr. Dinneford,” and two -stalwart young men entered cheerily. They were hearty upstanding -fellows, curiously alike in manner, appearance, dress, yet in the -thousand and one subtleties of character immutably different. But -this was not a moment for the fine shades. They came into the room -unaffectedly, without shyness, and warmly took the hands of welcome -that were offered them. - -Wrexham, a subaltern of the Pinks of three years’ standing, was an -attractive but rather irresolute young man. He knew that he was -perilously near forbidden ground. If not exactly in the toils of an -infatuation, the charms of Milly were growing day by day upon an -impressionable mind. Fully content as yet to live in the moment, -a wiser young man might have begun to pay the future some little -attention. - -As for the lively, headstrong, unconventional Jack Dinneford, at -present at a loose end in London, to whom Wrexham himself had been -appointed as a sort of unofficial bear-leader by the express desire -of Bridport House, that warrior was on a voyage of discovery. In -common with half the males of his age in the metropolis he was already -in the thrall of the wonderful Princess Bedalia. In the opinion of -connoisseurs she was the only one of her kind; for the past two hundred -nights she had played “to capacity” at the Frivolity Theater, and even -Jack Dinneford, who in one way or another had seen a goodish bit of the -Old World and the New, could not repress an exquisite little thrill as -her highness rose with rare politeness to receive him. - -“She’s even more stunning than I guessed,” was the thought in Jack’s -mind at the moment of presentation. He could almost feel the magnetism -in her finger tips. She was so alive in every nerve that it would have -called for no great power of imagination to detect vibration all round -her. - -“I feel greatly honored in meeting you,” said the young man with -transparent honesty. He was no subscriber evidently to the maxim, -“Language was given us to conceal our thoughts.” Somehow she couldn’t -help liking him for it. - -“The honor is mine.” The response was so ready, the humor behind it so -genuine, that they both laughed whole-heartedly and became friends on -the spot. There was no nonsense about Princess Bedalia, and the same -applied to the brown-faced clear-eyed owner of the fanciful scarf pin. - -The neat parlor maid brought tea. Wrexham, after a little amiable -chaffing of Mrs. Wren, whom he had met on at least six occasions, -provided Milly with tea and a macaroon, took the like for himself, and -sat beside her without a care in the wide world. She was forbidden -fruit; thus to frail humanity in its present phase she conveyed an idea -of Paradise. Such a view was quite absurd, allowing even for the fact -that Milly was an engaging creature, with a good heart, a ready tongue, -a rather special kind of prettiness, and a particularly shrewd head. - -Jack Dinneford on the opposite sofa had stronger warrant for his -emotions. This girl whom he had first seen in New York before the news -of a great inheritance had come to him, whom he had since viewed ten -times from the stalls of the Frivolity Theater, was a personality. -There was no doubt about that. And as he discovered at once their minds -marched together. They saw men and events at the same angle. A phrase -of either would draw forth an instant counterpart; in five minutes they -had turned the whole universe into mockery, but without letting go of -the fact that they were complete strangers colloguing for the first -time. - -Mrs. Wren withdrew presently on the pretext that she had letters to -write. A very pleasant hour quickly sped. Each of these four people -was in the mood to enjoy. Life in spite of its hazards, was no bad -thing at the moment. Wrexham, a thorough gentleman, was an immensely -likeable young man. And while he basked in present happiness a certain -resolution began to take shape in his mind. - -As for Jack Dinneford at the other side of the room, his thoughts -followed a humbler course. But he was an elemental, a very dangerous -fellow if once he began to play with ideas. At present he suffered from -the drawback of being no more than the nephew of his uncle; therefore -his sensations were not exactly those of Wrexham, who was a natural -caster of the handkerchief. But in this fatal hour Jack was heavily -smitten. - -He had met few girls in his twenty-four years of existence. In his -naïf way he confessed as much to Miss Lawrence. She was amused by -the confession and led him to make others. This was easy because he -liked talking about himself, that is to say, with such a girl as Mary -Lawrence inciting him humorously to reveal the piquant details of a -life not without its adventures, he would have had to be much less -primitive than he was to have resisted the lure of the charmer. - -She was unaffectedly interested. She differed from Mr. Dinneford -inasmuch as she had met many young men. Therefore, her heart was not -worn on her sleeve for daws to peck at. But he was a new type, and she -confessed gayly to Milly as soon as he had gone, she found him very -amusing. - - -III - -So much happened in the crowded month that followed, that at London -Bridge the Thames might be said to be in spate. The two young men were -often at the theater, and now and again Mary and Milly, chaperoned by -Mrs. Wren, would accept an invitation to supper at a restaurant. Then -there were the happy hours these four people were able to snatch from -their various duties, which they spent under the trees in the Park. -These were golden days indeed, but--the shadow of the policeman could -already be seen creeping up. The senior subaltern had been constrained -one fine morning to take Wrexham so far into his confidence as to -inform him with brutal precision, that if a man in the Household -Cavalry marries an actress, he leaves the regiment. - -The young man was intensely annoyed. Wisdom was not his long suit, and -although an excellent fellow according to his lights, right at the -back was the arrogance of old marquisate. His answer to the senior -subaltern was to arrange a most agreeable up-river excursion for the -following Sunday. On returning late in the evening to the flat, Milly -was in rather a flutter. - -Mary, who had been one of the merry party, was troubled. She had -certain instincts which went very deep, and these warned her of -breakers ahead. She had a great regard for Milly, and the more she knew -of Wrexham the better she liked him. But she saw quite clearly that -difficulties must arise if the thing went on, and that very powerful -opposition would have to be faced in several quarters. - -Moreover, she had now her own problem to meet; Jack had begun to force -the pace. And Mary, who had a sort of sixth sense in these matters, had -already felt this to be an inconvenience. From the first she had found -him delightful. Day by day this feeling had grown. An original, with -a strong will and a keen sense of humor, he differed from his friend -Wrexham inasmuch that he knew his own mind. He returned from the river -fully determined to marry Mary Lawrence. - -Perhaps this heroic resolve may have been forced upon him by the -knowledge of other Richmonds in the field. Mary was famous and admired. -It savored of presumption for such a one as himself, in receipt of a -modest two thousand a year from his kinsman, the Duke, to butt in where -men far richer were content to walk delicately. But he was “next in” at -Bridport House, he was heir to a great name, therefore, at the lowest -estimate, he was a quite considerable _parti_. This fact must stand his -excuse, although he was far too astute to make it one in the difficult -game he was about to play. - -Jack was not afflicted with subtlety in any form, he was not even a -close observer, but he understood well enough that it was going to -be a man’s work to persuade Mary Lawrence to marry him. She had an -immense independence, to which, of course, she was fully entitled, a -wide field of choice, and under the delightfully amusing give-and-take -which endeared her to Bohemia was a fastidious reserve which somehow -hinted at other standards. Even allowing for a lover’s partiality this -girl was to cut to a pattern far more imposing than Milly Wren. Her -qualities were positive, whereas Milly had prettiness merely, a warm -heart, a factitious charm. However, as soon as this sportsman had made -up his mind to tackle the stiffest fence that a Nimrod has to face, he -decided at once that the hour had come to harden his heart and go at -the post and rails in style. - -The next evening, as he strolled with Mary under the trees, he may have -been thinking in metaphor, when he let his eyes dwell on the riders in -the Row. - -“How jolly they look!” he said. And then at the instance of a concrete -thought--“By Jove, an idea! Tomorrow morning, if I job a couple of -gees, will you come for a ride?” - -The response was a ready one. “I should love to, if you are not afraid -to be seen with an absolute duffer.” - -“That’s a bargain. But they may be screws, as there doesn’t seem enough -decent ones to go round at this time of the year.” - -“I know nothing about horses,” was the laughing reply, “except just -enough not to look a hired horse in the knees. And the worse my mount -the better for me, at least it reduces my chance of biting the tan.” - -“I expect you are a good deal better than you admit.” - -She was woman enough to ask why he should think so. - -“You have the look of a goer,” he said, as his eye sought involuntarily -the long slender line of a frame all suppleness, delicacy, and power. - -“Wait till tomorrow. In the meantime I warn you that you’re almost -certain to be disgraced in the sight of the town.” - -“Let’s risk it anyway,” said the young man delightedly. - -In a very few minutes, however, Mary seriously regretted a rash -promise. They had only gone a few yards farther, Jack still inclined to -exult at the pact into which he had lured her, when both were brought -up short by a sudden clear “Hello!” from the other side of the rails. - -Jack had been hailed by a couple of long, lean young women with -mouse-colored hair, on a couple of long, lean mouse-colored horses. -They were followed at a respectful distance by a very smart groom on a -good-looking chestnut. The set of the close-fitting black habits and -the absolute ease of the wearers denoted the expert horse-woman. - -“Hello, Madge--hello, Blanche!” The casual greeting was punctuated by a -wave, equally casual, of the young man’s hand. - -As the two riders went slowly by they let their eyes rest upon Mary. -The look she received did not amount to a stare, but it had a cool -impertinence which somehow roused her fighting instinct. Unconsciously -she gave it back. On both sides was a frank curiosity discreetly -veiled, but the honors, if honors there were in the matter, were with -the occupants of the saddle. Somehow that seemed so clearly to have -been the place for generations of these lean young women with their -rigidity of line, their large noses, their cool appraising air of which -they were wholly unconscious. - -Who are _they_? was their reaction upon Mary Lawrence. - -Who is _she_? was her reaction upon these horsewomen. - -“A couple of my cousins.” The young man carelessly answered a question -that Mary was too proud to ask. - - -IV - -Mary’s riding had been confined to a few lessons shared with Milly at -the Brompton School of Equitation, and Milly was urged to make a third -on the morrow. Mrs. Wren felt it to be the due of the proprieties that -she should do so, but Milly herself, apart from the fact that she -was shy of appearing in the Row, was quite convinced that it would -not be the act of “a sport” to overlook the ancient maxim, “Two are -company, three a crowd.” Therefore the invitation was declined. And -this discreet action on the part of Milly gave Fate the opportunity for -which it had seemed to be looking for some little time past. - -It was about twenty minutes to eleven in the forenoon of a perfect -first of June that Jack Dinneford rode up gayly to the flat in Broad -Place, leading a horse very likely-looking, but warranted quiet. -It was a fair presumption that the guarantee covered the fact of -its disposition, since it had made the perilous journey from the -jobmaster’s, three doors out of Park Lane, and across the No Man’s -Land yclept Hyde Park Corner, that terrible and trappy maze, without a -suspicion of mental stress. - -Jack’s best hunting voice ascended to an open window of the second -story. The complete horsewoman, in every detail immaculate, came on to -the little balcony of Number 16, Victoria Mansions. - -“What a gorgeous day!” - -“A ripper!” - -If excitement there was on the side of either, self-mastery concealed -it. Yet an inconvenient pressure of emotion was shared by both just -then. In spite of a liberal share of self-confidence and a will under -strong control Mary could hardly refrain from the hope that she was -not going to make a perfect fool of herself. As soon as she beheld the -upstanding chestnut below with its slender legs and thin tail, she -winged an involuntary prayer to Allah that there were no tricks in its -repertory unbecoming a horse and a gentleman. As for Jack, the presence -of all the horses in the world would not have excited him. It was not -in him to be excited by things of that kind, that is to say, it was -part of his religion not to be excited by them; all the same there was -a genuine, nay, almost terrible thrill in his heart this morning. - -In the course of a rather wakeful night he had made up his mind “to -come to the ’osses” in sober verity. To the best of his present -information the gods, in the absence of the unforeseen, would discuss -the matter privately about twelve o’clock. - -“Blanche and Marjorie will have something to look at,” was the proud -thought in the mind of the young man as the complete Diana, fit to -greet Aurora and her courses, emerged from the Otis elevator and took -the front of Broad Place with beauty. - -“I wish these clothes were a little less smart, and not quite so -new,” was the first thought in the mind of Diana. “I am sure they -are both of them ‘Cats,’” was the thought which followed close upon -its heels. Until that hour it had never been her lot to harbor -such vain companions. This gay spirit to whom the fairies had been -kind had always seemed to breathe a larger, a diviner air. Such -self-consciousness shamed her; but after all _those two_ with their old -habits and their odd perfection were more to blame than she. - -Truth to tell, in the last seventeen hours a subtle, rather horrid -change had taken place in her. Up till six o’clock the previous evening -she had always been nobly sure of herself, regally self-secure. Always -when she had measured herself against others of her age and sex she -had had a feeling of having been born to the purple. Somewhere, deep -down, she had seemed to have illimitable reserves to draw upon when the -creatures of her own orbit had forced her to a reluctant comparison. In -all her dealings with her peers, she had felt that she had a great deal -in hand. But Marjorie and Blanche, whoever Marjorie and Blanche might -be, had seemed to alter all that with a glance of their ironical eyes. - -Jack fixed her in the saddle of the tall horse and lengthened her -stirrup with quite a professional air, while Milly and her mother -watched the proceedings in a rather thrilled silence from the balcony -of Number Sixteen. Their minds were dominated by a single thought, -which, however, bore one aspect in the mind of Mrs. Wren, another in -the mind of the faithful Milly. - -“She is _set_ on marrying him?”--Mrs. Wren. - -“He is so nice, I hope he won’t disappoint her?”--Milly the faithful. - -The cavalcade started. As if no such people as Marjorie and Blanche -existed in the world, Mary waved the yellow-gloved hand of an excited -schoolgirl to the balcony of Victoria Mansions. Jack accompanied it -with an upward glance and a gravely-lifted hat. - -In the maelstrom of promiscuous vehicles which makes Knightsbridge a -thoroughfare inimical to man, Jack took charge of the good-looking -hireling. With solemn care he piloted the upstanding one and his rather -anxious rider into the calm of Albert Gate. - -“I hope you are comfortable,” he found time to say; moreover, he found -time to say it so nicely and sincerely, almost as if his only hope -of happiness, here and hereafter, depended upon the answer, that the -answer came promptly in the form of a gay “Yes,” although had she been -quite honest she would have said she had never felt less comfortable -in her life. Her horse was such a mountain of a fellow, that she might -have been perched on the top of a very old-fashioned velocipede. Then -the saddle was very different from the one at the riding school. It had -much less room and fewer _points d’appui_ to offer. As soon as her knee -tried to grip the pommel she knew that she must not hope to get friends -with it. She had embarked on a very rash adventure. And if she didn’t -make a sorry exhibition of herself in the eyes of All London, including -_those two_, she would have cause to thank her private stars, who, to -give them their due, had certainly looked after her very well so far. - -“It’s very sporting of her,” said Expert Knowledge to Jack Dinneford. - -“I hope the gee won’t play the fool,” said Jack Dinneford to Expert -Knowledge. - - -V - -Hardly had they entered the Row, when Providence, of _malice prepense_, -as it seemed, threw them right across the path of the enemy. Cousin -Marjorie and Cousin Blanche, walking their horses slowly along by -the rails, were within a very few yards. Moreover, they were coming -towards them. Mary, aided by the sixth sense given to woman, was aware -of a subtle intensity of gaze upon her, even before she could trace -the source of its origin. She could feel it upon her--upon her and -everything that was hers, from the crown of her rather too modish hat -to the tip of her tall friend’s fetlock. - -“Good morning, Jack,” said a clear, strong voice. - -“Hello,” the tone of Jack was amazingly casual--“here you are again.” - -There was a moment’s maneuvering, in the course of which three pairs -of feminine eyes met in challenge, and then Cousin Blanche and Cousin -Marjorie, smart groom and all, passed on without offering a chance -of coming to closer quarters. Their tactics had been calculated so -nicely that it was impossible to say whether discourtesy was or -was not intended. But there was a subtle air about these ironically -self-confident young women which prevented Mary from giving them the -benefit of the doubt. - -For a moment she felt inclined to rage within. And then she bit her lip -and laughed. A moment later a sudden peck of the tall horse told her -that it would be wise for the present to give him an undivided mind. -Soon, however, Cousin Marjorie and Cousin Blanche were forgotten in the -delights and the perils of the discreet canter into which she found -herself launched. It was a perfect morning for the Row. The play of the -sun on the bright leaves, the power of its rays softened by a breeze -from the east, the sense of rapid motion, the kaleidoscope of swiftly -changing figures through which they passed, filled her with a zest of -life, a feeling of high romance which left no room for smaller and -meaner affairs. And the stride of the tall horse, as soon as she got -used to it, was such a thing of delight in itself, that she even forgot -the strange saddle and her general fears. - -They rode for an enchanted hour. And somehow, in the course of it, the -life forces became more insurgent. Somehow they deepened, expanded, -grew more imperious. Jack was a real out-of-doors man, who believed -that hunting, shooting, field sports, and fresh air were the highest -good. His look of lordly health, mingled with a charmingly delicate -protectiveness, appealed to her in a very special way. For some weeks -she had known that she was beginning to like him perilously much. But -it was not until she had returned rather tired and rather hot to -Victoria Mansions, had had a delicious bath, and a very good luncheon -indeed that she began at last to realize that she was fairly up against -the acute problem of Jack Dinneford. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -BRIDPORT HOUSE - - -I - -IN the meantime Cousin Marjorie and Cousin Blanche enjoyed their ride -very much. It was the one thing they really did enjoy in London. - -They were two ordinary young women, yet even so late in the Old World’s -history as the year 1913, their own private cosmos could not quite -make up its mind to regard them in that light. Cousin Marjorie and -Cousin Blanche had surprisingly little to say for themselves. They were -modest, unassuming girls, without views or ideas, very proper, very -dull, absurdly conventional; in the eyes of some people as plain as the -proverbial pikestaff, passably good-looking in the sight of others; -in fact, a more commonplace pair of young women would have been hard -to find anywhere, yet deep in the hearts of the Ladies Dinneford was -the sure faith that the world at large did not subscribe to any such -opinion. - -It was not merely that they rode rather well. They passed other -members of their sex in the Row that morning who rode quite as well -as themselves. No, proficiency in the saddle, the one accomplishment -they could boast, of which they were unaffectedly modest, was far from -explaining the particular angle at which the world chose to view -them. Not that in any way they were fêted or acclaimed. As far as the -vast majority of their fellow-creatures were concerned they were not -people to look at twice. But here and there a glance of recognition or -curiosity would greet them, winged by a smile, now of mere interest, -now of an irony faintly perceptible. - -Life had been very kind to Cousin Marjorie and Cousin Blanche, yet they -did not look conspicuously happy. With both hands it had lavished upon -them its material best, but the gifts of fortune were taken as a matter -of mere personal right. Providence owed it to the order of things -they stood for. Far from being grateful, they were a little bored by -its attentions. Moreover, these young women had not learned to regard -people to whom the fairies had been less kind with either insight or -sympathy. Their judgments were objective, therefore they were a little -hard, a little lacking in tolerance. - - -II - -“The stage!” said Marjorie with a straight-lipped smile, a rather -famous part of her importance. - -“You think so?” said Blanche sleepily. But she was not at all sleepy, -else she would not have been able to handle the Tiger, a recent -purchase, in the way she was doing at the moment. - -“No mistaking it, my dear.” - -“Good-looking, though,” lisped the somnolent Blanche, giving the Tiger -a very shrewd kick with a roweled heel. “Reminds me of some one.” - -The Tiger, worried by a bit that he didn’t like, and greatly affronted -by the heel of his new mistress, which he liked still less, then began -to behave in a way which for some little time quite forbade any further -discussion of the subject. - -For the rest of the morning, however, it was never far from the minds -of these ladies. Two or three times they caught sight in the distance -of Jack and his charge. A striking-looking girl, but she didn’t in the -least know how to ride. And somehow from that fact Blanche and Marjorie -seemed to draw spiritual consolation. - -At twelve o’clock they left the Park. The policeman at the gate pulled -himself together and regarded them respectfully. An elderly lady in -a high-hung barouche of prehistoric design, drawn by a superb pair -of horses and surmounted by a romantic-looking coachman and footman, -called out to them in a remarkably strident voice as they passed her, -“I am coming to luncheon.” - -“Bother!” said Marjorie to Blanche. - -“Bother!” said Blanche to Marjorie. - -They went along Park Lane, as far as Mount Street, turned up that -bleak thoroughfare, took the second turning to the right, and finally -entered the courtyard of the imposing residence known as Bridport -House. Before its solemn portals they dismounted with the help of the -smart groom. In the act of doing so they encountered a tall, rather -distinguished-looking man, who was coming down the steps. He was about -forty-two, clean-shaven, with sandy hair; and his clothes had an air of -such extreme correctness as to suggest that they had been donned for a -special occasion. - -The departing visitor bowed elaborately to the two ladies, but each -returned the greeting with an abbreviated nod, backed by an intent -smile peculiarly her own. There might be courtesy carried to the verge -of homage on the one side, but on the other was an aloofness cold and -quizzical. - -As soon as Blanche and Marjorie had gained the ample precincts of -Bridport House each looked demurely at the other, and then yielded a -laugh, which seemed to mean a great deal more than it expressed. - -“Been to see papa, I suppose,” said Blanche, as she waddled duck -fashion towards a white marble staircase of grandiose design, whose -cinquecento air could not save it from a slight suspicion of the rococo. - -“My dear!” came Marjorie’s crescendo. - -Again they looked at each other, again their laughter snarled and -crackled not unpleasantly. - -At one o’clock luncheon was announced. Ten minutes later a well-bathed -and carefully re-clothed Marjorie and a Blanche to match entered an -enormous dining-room, which, in spite of its profusion of servants in -livery, had the air of a crypt. - -“Good morning, father. Very pleasant to see you down.” - -Each word of Blanche was charmingly punctuated by a little pause, which -might have been taken for filial regard by those who heard it. But the -rather acid-looking gentleman, who sat at the head of the table, with a -face like a cameo a little out of drawing, and a bowl of arrowroot in -front of him, paid such slight attention to Blanche that she might not -have spoken at all. - -“Good morning, Aunt Charlotte,” said Marjorie coolly, taking up her -own cue. She surveyed the other occupants of the table with a quietly -ironical eye. And then as she seated herself at her leisure, as far -as she could get from the object of her remarks, she proceeded in the -peculiar but remarkably agreeable voice which she had in common with -her father and sisters: “Odd we should run into you coming out of the -Park.” - -“Why odd?” said Aunt Charlotte, an elderly, large-featured blonde, -whose theory of life was as far as possible not to cherish illusions on -any subject. “I always go in at twelve, you always come out at twelve. -Nothing odd about it. Thank you!” - -“Thank you,” meant, “Yes, I will take claret.” It also meant, “Get -on with your luncheon, Marjorie, and don’t be absurd. Life is too -complicated nowadays for such small talk as yours to interest an -intelligent person.” - -Aunt Charlotte, if not consciously rude, was by nature exceedingly -dominant. For twenty-five years, in one way or another, Bridport House -had known her yoke. She was the Duke’s only surviving sister, and she -lived in Hill Street, among the dowagers. Her status was _nil_, but -her love of power was so great that she had gained an uncomfortable -ascendancy in the family councils. While free to admire Aunt -Charlotte’s wisdom, which was supposed to be boundless, the Dinneford -ladies dislike her in the marrow of their bones. But Fate had played -against them. Their father had been left a widower with a young family, -and from the hour of his loss his sister had taken upon herself to -mother it. She had done so to her own satisfaction, but the objects of -her regard bore her no gratitude. From Sarah, who was thirty-nine, to -Marjorie, who was twenty-eight, they were ever ready to try a fall with -Aunt Charlotte. - -As for their father, he had an active dislike of her. He had cause, no -doubt. More than once he had tried to break the spell of her dominion, -but somehow it had always proved too strong for him. It was not that -he was a weak man altogether, but there is a type born to female -tyranny, an affair of the stars, of human destiny. Charlotte despised -her brother. In her view he was a lath painted to look like iron, but -insight into character was not her strength. She owed her position in -the family to dynamic power, to force of will; but in her own mind it -was always ascribed to the fact that she acted invariably from the -highest motives. - -“Muriel not here,” said the conversational Marjorie, looking across the -table to Sarah. - -“Gone to the East End, I believe, to one of her committees.” - -It would have been nearer the truth for the eldest flower, who was -dealing with a recalcitrant fragment of lobster in a masterful manner, -to have said that Muriel had gone to luncheon at Hayes with the -Penarths. But Sarah, who did not approve of Muriel, and still less -of the Penarths, was content with a general statement whose flagrant -inaccuracy somehow crystallized her attitude towards them both. Muriel -had become frankly impossible. The higher expediency could no longer -take her seriously. - -But there are degrees of wisdom, even among the elect. Sarah’s place -was assured at Minerva’s Court, but Marjorie and Blanche were wiser -perhaps in matters equine than in other things. Where angels feared to -tread Blanche, at any rate, for reasons of her own, had sometimes been -known to butt in. A classical instance was about to be furnished. - -“Do tell me.” Blanche suddenly looked Sarah straight in the eyes. “Has -Sir Dugald been to see father?” - -There was a long moment’s pause in which Sarah maintained a -stranglehold upon the lobster, while Lady Wargrave and the Duke, who -knew they were being “ragged” by a past mistress in the art, glared -daggers down the table. - -“I believe so,” said Sarah in an exceedingly dry voice, followed by a -hardly perceptible glance at the servants. - - -III - -Over the coffee cups, in the solemn privacy of the blue drawing-room, -the Dinneford ladies grew a little less laconic. They were in a perfect -hurricane of great events. Even they, who seldom use two words if one -would suffice, had to make some concession to the pressure of history. - -“His mother, I understand,” said Aunt Charlotte, seating herself -massively in the center of her floridly Victorian picture, “kept the -village shop at Ardnaleuchan.” - -“Then I’ve bought bull’s-eye peppermints of her,” said Sarah, with a -touch of acid humor which somehow became her quite well. - -“But it’s so serious”--Lady Wargrave stirred her coffee. “Still he’s -been given the Home Office--so she thinks she moves with the times, no -doubt.” - -“_Has_ been given the Home Office?” said Blanche, suddenly achieving an -air of intelligence. - -“The papers say so,” said Sarah dryly. “But I don’t think that excuses -him.” - -“Or Muriel,” interpolated Aunt Charlotte with venom. “What did your -father say to the man?” - -“He was deplorably rude, I believe--even for father. He said the man -had the hide of a rhinoceros, so obviously he had tested it.” - -“All very amazing. It is charity to assume that Muriel is out of her -mind.” - -“One can’t be sure,” said Sarah weightily. “She says he has such a good -head that one day he _must_ be Prime Minister. After all, she will be a -Prime Minister’s wife!” - -“But a Radical Prime Minister’s wife!” - -“He may rat,” said Sarah, with judicious optimism. - -“He may,” said Lady Wargrave, looking down her long nose. “But there -never was a matter in which I felt less hopeful. What does your father -think?” - -“The man’s a red rag. Don’t you remember the shameful way he attacked -poor father on the Land Question two years ago? What was it he called -him in the House of Commons?” - -“‘The Great Panjandrum, with little round button on top,’” quoted the -solemn Marjorie, whose chief social asset was an amazing memory. - -“And after that he dares to come here!” Aunt Charlotte quivered -majestically. “Didn’t your father kick him downstairs?” - -“I think he would have done--but for his infirmity,” said Sarah -judicially. - -“I had forgotten his gout, poor man. At least, I hope he ordered the -servants to throw the creature into the street.” - -“One hardly does that, does one?--with his Majesty’s Secretaries of -State,” said Blanche, whose sleepy voice had an odd precision which -made each word bite like an acid. - -Aunt Charlotte hooded her eyes like a cobra to look at Blanche. But she -didn’t say anything. Only experts could handle Blanche, and even these -must abide the whim of the goddess opportunity. - -“After all, why fuss?” continued Blanche with a muted laugh which had -the power of annoying all the other ladies extremely. “If one has to -marry one might as well marry a Prime Minister.” - -This was such a sublime expression of the obvious, that even Lady -Wargrave, who contested everything on principle, was dumb before it. -Blanche was therefore able to retire in perfect order to the comatose, -her natural state. But in the next moment she reëmerged, so that a -little private thunderbolt she had been diligently nursing through -the whole luncheon might shake the rather strained peace of the blue -drawing-room. She was quite sure that it would be a pleasure to launch -it when the moment came. A sudden pause in the great topic of Muriel’s -_affaire_ told her it had now arrived. - -“We saw Jack riding with that girl.” So sleepy was the voice of Blanche -as it made this announcement that it seemed a wonder she could keep -awake. - -“What girl?” Aunt Charlotte walked straight into Blanche’s little trap. - -“Oh, you _didn’t_ know.” Blanche suppressed a yawn. “It’s a rather long -story.” - -Still it had to be told. And Blanche, just able to keep awake, told -it circumstantially. The Tenderfoot--the heir’s own name for himself, -which Blanche made a point of using in conversation with Aunt Charlotte -because that lady considered it vulgar--had been seen at the Savoy with -a girl, he had been seen in the Park with a girl, he had been seen -motoring with a girl; in fact, he had been going about with a girl for -several weeks. - -“And you never told _me_,” said Lady Wargrave with the air of a tragedy -queen. She looked from Blanche to Sarah, from Sarah to Marjorie. A -light of sour sarcasm in the eye of the eldest flower was all the -comfort she took from the survey. - -“Who is the girl? Tell me.” - -Blanche inclined to think an actress. But she was not sure. - -“Inquiries will have to be made at once.” Already Aunt Charlotte was a -caldron of energy. “Steps will have to be taken. It is the first I have -heard of it. But I feel I ought to have been told sooner.” - -Blanche fearlessly asked why. - -“Why!” Aunt Charlotte gave a little snort. At such a moment mere words -were futile. Then she said, “I shall go at once to your father.” - -“But what can _he_ do?” - -“Do?” Aunt Charlotte gave a second little snort. Mere words again -revealed their limitations. - -“Yes?” Blanche placidly pursued the Socratic method, to the increasing -fury of Aunt Charlotte. - -“He can tell him what he thinks of him and threaten to cut off -supplies.” - -“Much he’ll care for that!” The cynicism of Blanche revolted Aunt -Charlotte. - -That lady, whose forte, after all, was plain common sense, knew that -Blanche was right. But in spite of that knowledge, the resolute energy -which made her so much disliked impelled her to go at once to lay the -matter before the head of the house. - -Lady Wargrave found her brother in the smaller library, long dedicated -by custom to his sole use. It was one of the less pretentious and -therefore least uncomfortable rooms in a house altogether too large to -be decently habitable. - -For many years the Duke had been at the mercy of a painful malady which -had taken all the pleasure out of his life. He was nearly seventy now, -a man strikingly handsome in spite of a sufferer’s mouth and eyes -weary with pain and cynicism. When his sister entered the room she -found him deployed on an invalid chair, the _Quarterly Review_ on a -book-rest in front of him, and a wineglass containing medicine at his -elbow. And to Lady Wargrave’s clear annoyance, a tall, gray-haired, -rather austere-looking, but decidedly handsome woman, stood by the Adam -chimney-piece, a bottle in one hand, a teaspoon in the other. - -“Perhaps you will be kind enough to leave us, Mrs. Sanderson,” said -Lady Wargrave, in a tone which sounded needlessly elaborate. - -Harriet Sanderson, without so much as a temporary relaxation of muscle -of her strong face, withdrew at once very silently from the room. The -bottle and the teaspoon went with her. - -As soon as the door had closed Lady Wargrave said, “Johnnie, once more -I feel bound to protest against the presence of the housekeeper in the -library. If the state of your health really calls for such attention I -will engage a trained nurse.” - -The Duke took up the _Quarterly Review_ with an air of stolid -indifference. - -“I’ll get one at once,” she persisted. “There’s a capable person who -nursed Mary Devizes.” - -The Duke seemed unwilling to discuss the question, but at last, -yielding to pressure, he said in a tone of dry exasperation: - -“Mrs. Sanderson is quite capable of looking after me. She understands -my ways, I understand hers.” - -“No one doubts her competence.” The rejoinder was tart and hostile. -“But that is hardly the point. The library is not the place for the -housekeeper.” - -“I choose to have her here. In any case it is entirely my affair.” - -“People talk.” - -“Let ’em.” - -“It’s an old quarrel, my friend.” Growing asperity was in the voice of -Charlotte. “You know my views on the subject of Mrs. Sanderson. We none -of us like the woman. Considering the position she holds she has always -taken far too much upon herself.” - -The Duke shook his head. “I must be the judge of that,” he said. - -“But surely it is a matter for the women of your family.” - -“With all submission, it’s a matter for me. I find the present -arrangement entirely satisfactory, and I don’t recognize the right of -anyone to interfere.” - -The Duke’s tone grated like a file upon his sister’s ear. This was an -ancient quarrel that in one form or another had been going on for very -many years. The housekeeper at Buntisford and more recently at Bridport -House had been a thorn in the flesh of Charlotte almost from the day -her sister-in-law died, but the Duke had always been Mrs. Sanderson’s -champion. Time and again her overthrow had been decided upon by the -ladies of the Family, but up till now the perverse determination of his -Grace had proved too much for them and all their careful schemes. - -They had reached the usual impasse. Therefore, for the time being, -Charlotte had once more to swallow her feelings. Besides, other matters -were in the air, matters of an interest more vital if of a nature less -permanent. - -As a preliminary it was necessary to glance at Muriel and her vagaries, -before coming to grips with the even more momentous affair which had -just been brought to Lady Wargrave’s notice. In answer to his sister’s, -“What have you said to Maclean?” the Duke, who had swallowed most of -the formulas and had digested them pretty thoroughly, expressed himself -characteristically. - -“I told him that before I could even begin to consider the question he -would have to rat.” - -“Was that wise?” said Charlotte, frowning. “Why commit oneself to the -possibility of having to take the man seriously?” - -Her brother laughed. “He’s a very sharp fellow. A long Scotch head, -abominably full of brains. If we could get him on our side perhaps he -might pull us together.” - -“You know, of course, that his mother kept the village shop at -Ardnaleuchan?” - -“So he tells me.” - -“Do you like the prospect of such a son-in-law?” - -“Frankly, Charlotte, I don’t. A tiresome business at the best of it. -But there it is.” - -“Ought one to treat it so coolly?” - -His Grace laid the _Quarterly Review_ on the book-rest and plucked a -little peevishly at the tuft of hair on his chin. - -“The times are changing, you see. We are on the eve of strange things. -Still, I took the liberty of telling him that as long as he remained a -Radical and went up and down the country blackguarding me and mine, I -should refuse to know him.” - -“And what said our fine gentleman?” - -“He was amused. Whether he takes the hint remains to be seen. In any -event it commits us to nothing.” - -Charlotte shook a dubious head. “You’re shaping for a compromise, my -friend. And in my view this is not a case for one.” - -“If she is set on marrying the brute what’s going to stop her?” - -The question was meant for a poser and a poser it proved. Somehow -it left no ground for argument. Therefore, without further preface -or apology, Lady Wargrave turned to a matter of even more vital -consequence. - - -IV - -By an odd chain of events, Jack Dinneford was heir apparent to the -dukedom of Bridport. In the course of a brief twelve months two -intervening lives had petered out. One had been Lyme, the Duke’s only -surviving son, who at the age of thirty-five had been killed in a -shooting accident--a younger son, never a good life, had died some -years earlier--the other had been the Duke’s younger brother, who six -months ago had died without male issue. The succession in consequence -would now have to pass to an obscure and rather neglected branch of the -family, represented by a young man of twenty-four, the son of a Norfolk -parson. - -Jack’s father, at the time of his death, had held a family living. A -retiring, scholarly man, he had never courted the favors of the great, -and the great, little suspecting that their vicarious splendors might -one day be his, had paid him little attention. Blessed with progeny of -the usual clerical abundance and without means apart from his stipend, -the incumbent of Wickley-on-the-Wold had been hard set to educate his -children in a manner becoming their august lineage. Even Jack, the -eldest of five, had to be content with four years at one of the smaller -public schools. It was true that afterwards he had the option of Oxford -or Sandhurst, but by the time the young man had reached the age of -nineteen he had somehow acquired an independence of character which did -not take kindly to either. - -One fine day, with a spare suit of clothes and a hundred pounds or so -in his pocket, he set out in the most casual way to see the world, and -to make his fortune. He went to Liverpool, shipped before the mast as -an ordinary seaman for the sake of the experience, and made the voyage -round the Horn to San Francisco. For the next two years he prospected -up and down the Americas earning a living, picking up ideas, and -enlarging his outlook by association with all sorts and conditions of -men, and finally invested all the capital he could scrape together in a -business in Vancouver. - -After eighteen months of the new life came the news of his father’s -death. The brothers and sisters it seemed were rather better provided -for than there had been reason to expect. At any rate, Mabel and Iris -would have a roof over their heads, Bill had passed into Sandhurst, and -Frank was at Cambridge. Therefore Jack, little guessing what Fate had -in store, decided to stay as he was, in the hope that in a few years -he would have made his pile. He had a taste for hard work, and the new -land offered opportunities denied by the old. - -Some months later he received an urgent summons to return home. He had -suddenly and unexpectedly become next of kin to the Duke of Bridport. -The news was little to the young man’s taste. He was very loth to -give up a growing business for a life of parasitic idleness under the -ægis of the titular great. But the circumstances seemed to make it -imperative. The powers that were had not the slightest doubt that it -was his bounden duty to go into training at once. He must fit himself -for the dizzy eminence to which it had pleased Providence to call him. - -Sadly enough the tiro sold out, returned to England, and in due course -reported himself at Bridport House. It was the first time he had been -there. He was such a distant kinsman that he had never taken the ducal -connection seriously. - -The family’s reception of the Tenderfoot--his own humorous name for -himself--amused him considerably, yet at the same time it filled him -with a subtle annoyance. Five fruitful years out West had made him an -iconoclast. He saw with awakened eyes the arid and sterile pomposities -which were doing their best to put the old land out of the race. -Bridport House was going to spell boredom and worse for Jack Dinneford. - -Still the Duke, as became a man of the world, soon got to the root of -the trouble, and having the welfare of a time-honored institution at -heart, was at pains to deal with the novice tactfully. All the same, he -was far from being pleased by the tricks of Providence. But he made the -young man an allowance of two thousand a year, and exhorted him not to -get into mischief; and the Dinneford ladies, who were prepared to be -kind to the Tenderfoot and to be more amused by his “originality” than -they confessed to each other, chose some rooms for him in Arlington -Street, looked after his general welfare, and began to make plans for -the future of Bridport House. Aunt Charlotte took him at once under -an ungracious wing, and found him a bear-leader in the person of her -nephew Wrexham, a subaltern of the Pinks, a picturesque young man, -reputed a paragon of all the Christian virtues, and a martyr to a sense -of duty. - -From this model of discretion the tiro soon received a hint. Cousin -Sarah owned to thirty-eight in the glare of Debrett, Cousin Muriel had -other views apparently, but there remained Cousin Blanche and Cousin -Marjorie--the heir could take his choice, but the ukase had gone forth -that one of them it must be. - -The Tenderfoot did not feel in a marrying mood just then, but he had -chivalry enough not to say so to his mentor, who as the messenger of -Eros began to disclose quite a pretty turn of humor. It was not seemly -to offer advice in such a delicate matter, but Blanche was a nailer to -hounds, although she never kept awake after dinner, while Marjorie’s -sphere was church decoration in times of festival, in the course of -which she generally had an _affaire_ with a curate. - -Face to face with a problem which in one way or another was kept ever -before his eyes, the poor Tenderfoot seemed to feel that if wive he -must in the charmèd circle, and the relentless Wrexham assured him that -it was a solemn duty, perhaps there was most to be said for Cousin -Marjorie. She was not supremely attractive it was true. The Dinneford -girls, one and all, were famous up and down the island for a resolute -absence of charm. And the Dinneford frontispiece, imposing enough in -the male, when rendered in terms of the female somehow seemed to lack -poetry. Still Cousin Marjorie was not yet thirty and her general health -was excellent. - -The heir had now been settled in Arlington Street six months. And with -nothing in the world to do but learn to live a life which threatened -to bore him exceedingly, time began to hang upon his hands. Moreover, -the prospect of having presently to lead Cousin Marjorie to the altar -merely increased a sense of malaise. Here was an arbitrary deepening of -the tones of a picture which heaven knew was dark enough already. For -a modern and virile young man, life at Bridport House would only be -tolerable under very happy conditions. To be yoked, willy-nilly, to one -of its native denizens for the rest of one’s days, seemed a hardship -almost too great to be borne. - -While the Tenderfoot was in this frame of mind, which inclined him to -temporize, he decided to put off the dark hour as long as he could. And -then suddenly, while still besieged by doubt, the hypnotic Princess -Bedalia swam into his ken. - - -V - -“It was bound to happen,” said Lady Wargrave. “That young man has far -too much time on his hands. A thousand pities he didn’t go into the -army.” - -“Too old, too old.” Her brother frowned portentously. “This promises to -be a very tiresome business. Charlotte, I must really ask you to lose -no time in seeing that the fellow marries.” - -It was now Charlotte’s turn to frown. And this she did as a prelude to -a frankness which verged upon the brutal. - -“All very well, my friend, but perhaps you’ll tell me how it’s to be -done. Neither Marjorie nor Blanche has the least power of attraction. -They’re hopeless. And please remember this young man has been five -years in America.” - -“I would to God he had stayed there!” - -The futile outburst of his Grace set Charlotte glowering like a sibyl. -She was constrained to own that it was all intensely annoying. He was a -common young man. He had none of the Dinneford feeling about things. - -“Quite so, Charlotte.” The ducal irritation was growing steadily. “But -don’t rub it in. That won’t help us. Let us think constructively. You -see the trouble is that this fellow has a rather democratic outlook.” - -“Then I’m afraid there’s no remedy,” said Charlotte, “unless the girls -have the brains to help us, which, of course, they haven’t.” - -His Grace became more thunderous. “Let us hope he’ll have the good -feeling to try to look at things as we do,” he said after a rather arid -pause. - -“I’m not sure that we’ve a right to expect it,” was the frank rejoinder. - -“Why not?” - -“His branch of the family has no particular cause to be grateful to us.” - -“Our father gave his father a living, didn’t he?” said the Duke sharply. - -“Yes, but nothing else--unless it was a day’s shooting now and again, -which he didn’t accept.” - -“I don’t see what else he could have given him.” - -“An eye ought to have been kept on this young man.” - -“You can depend upon it, Charlotte, many things would have been ordered -differently had there been reason to suppose that this confounded -fellow would be next in here. As it is we have to make the best of a -sorry business.” - -“Sorry enough,” Charlotte admitted. “There I am with you. But I’ll have -inquiries made about this chorus girl. And in the meantime, Johnnie, -perhaps you will speak to him firmly and quietly without losing your -temper.” - -“And my last word to you, Charlotte,” countered his Grace, “is to see -that he loses no time in marrying.” - -“Easy, my friend, to issue a ukase.” And the redoubtable Charlotte -smiled grimly. - - -VI - -Soon after four the same afternoon Jack returned to Broad Place in -the garb of civilization. He was in great heart. Milly had some -good-natured chaff to offer as to Mary’s need of sticking plaster. But -the young man turned this persiflage aside with such a serious air that -the quick-witted Milly knew it for an omen. Having learned the set of -the wind she soon found a pretext for leaving them together. - -Milly’s sense of a coming event, which her sudden flight from the room -had seemed to make the more inevitable, was shared by Mary. Somehow she -felt that the moment of moments had come. This thing had to be. But as -a hand brown and virile quietly took hers in a strong grip, she began -almost bitterly to deplore the whole business. And yet, when all was -said, she was absolutely thrilled. He was so truly a man that a girl, -no matter what her talent and quality, could hardly refrain from pride -in his homage. - -There was no beating about the bush. - -“Will you marry me?” he said. - -She grew crimson. How she had dreaded that long foreseen question! -Days ago common sense and worldly prudence had coldly informed her -that there could only be one possible answer. The case of Milly -herself had furnished a sinister parallel. And the sensitive, perhaps -over-sensitive pride of one who had begun at the bottom of the ladder, -revolted from all the ensuing complications. Such a situation seemed -now to involve her in mysteries far down within, at the very core of -being--mysteries she had hardly been aware of until that moment. - -Again the question. She looked away, quite unable just then to meet his -eyes. Her will was strong, her determination clear, but in spite of -herself a deadly feeling crept upon her that she was a bird in a snare. -Certain imponderables were in the room. The life forces were calling to -each other; there was a curious magnetism in the very air they breathed. - -She had meant and intended “No,” but every instant made that little -word more difficult to utter. A dominant nature had stolen the keys of -her heart before she knew it. And as she fought against the inevitable, -a subtle trick of the ape on the chain in the human breast, weighed -the scales unfairly. Cousin Blanche and Cousin Marjorie were flung -oddly, irrelevantly, fantastically, upon the curtain of her mind. The -challenge of their ironical eyes was like a knife in the flesh. And -then that private, particular devil, of whose existence, until that -moment, she had been unaware, suddenly forced her to take up the gage -those eyes had flung. - - -VII - -“Do tell me!” cried Milly the breathless. - -The sight of a lone, troubled Mary in the little sitting-room, the look -on her face as she twisted a handkerchief into knots and coils had been -too much for Milly. She was a downright person and the silence of Mary -was so trying to a forthcoming nature that the query at the tip of -Milly’s tongue seemed likely to burn a hole in it. - -“Has he--have you--did he----?” The demand was indelicate, but it -sprang from the depths as Milly measured them. Suddenly she saw tears. - -“I am so glad, I am so _very_ glad!” - -Mary smiled, but the look in her eyes had the power to startle the -affectionate Milly. - -“He is the luckiest man I know, but he is such a dear that he deserves -to be.” It was a peculiarity of Mary’s that she didn’t like kissing, -but Milly in a burst of loyal affection was guilty of a sudden swoop -upon her friend. - -“Oh, don’t,” said Mary, in a voice from which all the accustomed gayety -was gone. - -Milly gazed in consternation. - -“You--you have not refused him?” - -“No.” And then there came a sudden flame. “I’m a selfish, egotistical -wretch.” - -“As long as you have not refused him,” said Milly, breathing again. -“All the same, I call you a very odd girl.” - -But Mary was troubled, Milly perplexed. - -“You ought to be the happiest creature alive. What’s the matter?” - -“I’m thinking of his friends.” - -“If they choose to be stupid, it’s their own lookout.” - -“It mayn’t be stupidity,” said Mary, giving her handkerchief a bite. “I -know nothing about him, except----” - -“Except?” - -“That he’s above me socially.” - -“I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you,” said Milly robustly. “If -they like to be snobs it’s their own funeral.” - -But Mary, having burned her boats, was afflicted now by Cousin Blanche -and Cousin Marjorie. They were looking down upon her from their tall -horses. It was not that she feared them in the least, but she knew that -lurking somewhere in an oddly constituted mind was a certain awe of the -things for which they stood. - -“I can’t explain my feelings,” said Mary. “I only know they are -horribly real. I feel there’s a gulf between Jack and me--and a word -won’t bridge it.” And her voice trailed off miserably. - -“That’s weak,” said Milly severely. “I know what you mean, but you -exaggerate the difference absurdly. Sonny is miles above me socially, -but I’ll make him as good a wife as any of his own push, see if I -don’t--if he gives me the chance! And in some ways I can make him a -better.” - -“How?” - -“Because I began right down there.” Milly pointed to the carpet. “I -know the value of things, I shall be able to see that no one takes -advantage of him, whereas a girl who has been spoon-fed all her life -couldn’t do that.” - -The honest Mary had to allow that there was something to be said for -the point of view, yet she would not admit that it covered all the -facts of the case. - -“Please don’t suppose my ideas have anything to do with you and Lord -Wrexham.” Her gravity made Milly feel quite annoyed. “I am merely -thinking of myself. And there’s something in me, for which I can’t -account, which says that it may be wrong, it may be wickedly wrong, for -me to marry Jack.” - -“It certainly will be if that’s how you look at it,” said Milly -scornfully. “Why not make the most of your luck? I’m sure it’s right. -After all Providence knows better than anybody. And Jack knows he’s got -to be a duke.” - -“Got to be what?” Mary jumped out of her chair. - -“You didn’t know?” - -“Of course, I didn’t.” She was simply aghast. In a state of excitement -which quite baffled Milly, she paced the room. - -“You _odd_ creature!” The mantle of the arch dissembler had now -descended upon Milly. - -Truth to tell, she and her mother had had a shrewd suspicion of Mary’s -ignorance. They had learned from Wrexham that Jack Dinneford, owing to -a series of deaths in a great family, had quite unexpectedly become -the next-of-kin to the Duke of Bridport. Such a prospect was so little -to the young man’s taste that as far as he could he always made a -point of keeping the skeleton out of sight. Rightly or wrongly he had -not said a word to Mary on the subject, and she with a pride a little -overstrained, no doubt, had allowed herself no curiosity in regard -to his worldly status. For whatever it might be it was obviously far -removed from that of a girl of no family who had to get her own living -as well as she could. - -The news was stunning. As Mary walked about the room the look on her -face was almost tragic. - -“I think you ought to have told me,” she said at last. - -“We thought you knew,” was Milly’s reply. This was a deliberate story. -Mrs. Wren and herself in discussing the romantic news had concluded the -exact opposite. But out of a true regard for Mary’s welfare, as they -conceived it, they had decided to let her find out for herself. She was -such an odd girl in certain ways that mother and daughter felt that the -real truth about Jack Dinneford might easily prove his overthrow. Thus -with a chaste conscience Milly now lied royally. - -Mary, alas! was so resentful of the _coup_ of fortune and her friends, -that for a moment she was tempted to fix a quarrel on Milly. But -Milly’s cunning was too much for her. She stuck to the simple statement -that she thought she knew. There was no gainsaying it. And if blame -there was in the matter it surely lay at the door of her own proud self. - -Mary was still in the throes of an unwelcome discovery when Mrs. -Wren came into the room. The appearance of that lady seemed to add -fuel to the flame. Her felicitations, a little overwhelming in their -exuberance, were in nowise damped by the girl’s dejection. To Mrs. -Wren such an attitude of mind was not merely unreasonable, it was -unchristian. To call in question the highest gifts of Providence -betrayed a kink in a charming character. - -“Fancy, my dear--a duchess. You’ll be next in rank to royalty.” - -It was so hard for the victim to smother the tempest within that for -the moment she dare not trust herself to speak. - -“You’re very naughty,” said Mrs. Wren. “Why, you ought to offer up a -prayer. You’ve had success too easily, the road has been too smooth. -If you’d had a smaller talent and you’d had an awful struggle to get -there, you’d know better than to crab your luck.” - -A strong will now came to Mary’s aid. And the calm force of her -answer, when at last she was able to make it, astonished Milly and her -mother. “That’s one side of the case, Mrs. Wren,” she said in a new -tone. “But there’s another, you know.” - -“There is only one side for you, my dear,” said the older woman -stoutly. “Take your chances while you may--that’s my advice. Your luck -may turn. You’ll not always be what you are now. Suppose you have a bad -illness?” - -“I’m thinking of his side of the case.” The tone verged upon sternness. - -“You have quite enough to do to think of your own. Don’t throw chances -away. I have had forty years’ experience of a very hard profession, -and even you top sawyers are on very thin ice. And remember, the cards -never forgive. Girls who have a lone hand to play, mustn’t hold their -heads too high. If they do they’ll live to regret it. And you mustn’t -think these swells can’t box their own corner. They’ve nothing to learn -in looking after Number One. A girl of your sort is quite equal to any -of these drawing-room noodles and Mr. Dinneford knows that better than -I do.” - -“But that’s impossible. I can never be as they are.” - -“You needn’t let that worry you. A lot of stuck-up dunces that all the -world kow-tows to!” - -“It isn’t that I think they are nicer or cleverer or wiser than other -people. But they are born to certain things, they have been bred to -them for generations, and it surely stands to reason that they are -better at their own game than a mere outsider can hope to be.” - -“Fiddle-de-dee!” said Mrs. Wren. “I hope you are not such a goose as -to take swelldom at its own valuation. It’s all a bluff, my dear. -Your humble servant, Jane Wren, could have been as good a duchess as -the best of ’em if she had been given the chance. I don’t want to be -fulsome, my dear, but I’ll back a girl of your brains against Lady -Agatha Fitzboodle or any other titled snob.” - -“But I don’t want to be pitted against anybody!” - -“That’s nonsense.” Mrs. Wren shook a worldly-wise head. “As for being -an outsider, a girl can’t be more than a lady just as a man can’t be -more than a gentleman. And if you are a lady and have always gone -straight you needn’t fear comparison with the highest in the land.” - -Mary shook a head of sadness and perplexity. - -“Somehow it doesn’t seem right to mix things in that way,” she said. - -“It’s the only way that keeps ’em going,” said Mrs. Wren scornfully. -“And well they know it. At least nature knows it. Look at Wrexham! Do -you mean to say that his inbred strain wouldn’t be improved by Milly? -And it’s the same with you and Mr. Dinneford. It’s Nature at the back -of it all. It’s the call of the blood. If these old families keep on -intermarrying long enough dry rot sets in.” - -Mary stood a picture of woe. - -“You odd creature!” said Mrs. Wren. “I’ve never met a girl with such -ideas as yours. I really believe you are quite as narrow and as -prejudiced as Lady Agatha Fitzboodle. To hear you talk one would think -you believed rank to be a really important matter.” - -Incredulous eyes were opened upon the voluble dame. - -“Of course it is.” But the girl’s solemnity was a little too much. - -“My dear!” A gust of ribald laughter overwhelmed her. “Hasn’t it ever -struck you that the so-called aristocracy racket is all a bluff?” - -“Surely, it can’t be.” The tone was genuine dismay. - -“Every word of it, my dear. There’s only one thing behind it and that’s -money. If Wrexham ever sticks a coronet on the head of my Milly and -robes her in ermine she’ll be the equal of any in the land, just as old -Bill Brown who was in the last birthday honors is as good a peer as the -best of ’em now that his soap business has brought him into Park Lane. -I knew Bill when he hadn’t a bob. It’s just a matter of L.S.D. As for -the frills, they are all my eye and Elizabeth Martin. When my Milly -gets among them, it won’t take her a week to learn all their tricks. -They are just so many performing dogs.” - -“You don’t understand, you don’t understand!” The tone was tragic. - - -VIII - -A night’s reflection convinced the girl that there was only one thing -to be done. The engagement must end. But as she soon found, it was -easier to make the resolve than to carry it out. To begin with, it -was terribly irksome, in present circumstances, to give effect to her -decision and to back it with reasons. - -Her début in the Row had been so successful that a ride had been -arranged for the next morning. But it was spoiled completely by -the specter now haunting her. In what terms could she tell him -that she had changed her mind? How could she defend a proceeding so -unwarrantable? - -It was not until later in the day, when they took a stroll under the -trees in the Park, that she forced herself to grasp the nettle boldly. - -Jack, as she had foreseen, was immeasurably astonished. He called, at -once, for her reasons. And they were terribly difficult to put into -words. At last she was driven back upon the cardinal fact that he had -concealed his true position. - -He repudiated the charge indignantly. In the first place, he had taken -it for granted that she knew his position, in the second, he always -made a point of leaving it as much as possible outside his calculations. - -“But isn’t that just what one oughtn’t to do?” she said, as they took -possession of a couple of vacant chairs. - -“To me the whole thing’s absurd,” was the rejoinder. “It’s only by the -merest fluke that I have to succeed to the title, and I find it quite -impossible to feel about things as Bridport House does. The whole -business is a great bore, and if a way out could be found I’d much -rather stay as I am.” - -“But isn’t that just a wee bit selfish, my dear--if you don’t think me -a prig?” - -“If you are quite out of sympathy with an antediluvian system, if you -disbelieve in it, if you hate it in the marrow of your bones, where’s -the virtue in sacrificing yourself in order to maintain it?” - -“Noblesse oblige!” - -“Yes, but does it? A dukedom, in my view, is just an outworn -convention, a survival of a darker age.” - -“It stands for something.” - -“What does it stand for?--that’s the point. There’s no damned merit -about it, you know. Any fool can be a duke, and they mostly are.” - -Mary, if a little amused, was more than a little shocked. - -“I’m sure it’s not right to think that,” she declared stoutly. “I would -say myself, although one oughtn’t to have a say on the subject, that -it’s the duty of your sort of people to keep things going.” - -“They are not my sort of people. I was pitchforked among them. And if -you don’t believe in them and the things it is their duty to keep going -what becomes of your theory, Miss Scrupulous?” - -“But that’s Socialism,” said Mary with solemn eyes. - -“No, it’s the common sense of the matter. All this centralization of -power in the hands of a few hard-shells like my Uncle Albert--he’s -not my uncle really--is very bad for the State. He owns one-fifth of -Scotland, and the only things he ever really takes seriously are his -meals and his health.” - -“He stands for something all the same.” - -The young man laughed outright. - -“I know I’m a prig.” The blushing candor disarmed him. “But if one has -a great bump of reverence I suppose one can’t help exaggerating one’s -feelings a little.” - -“I suppose not,” laughed the young man. And then there was a pause. “By -jove,” he said at the end of it, “you’d be the last word in duchesses.” - -“You won’t get Bridport House to think so.” - -“So much the worse for Bridport House. Of course, I admit it has -other views for me. But the trouble is, as always in these close -corporations, they haven’t the art of seeing things as they are.” - -Mary shook a troubled head, but the argument seemed to find its way -home. - -“The truth of the matter is,” he suddenly declared, “you are afraid of -Bridport House.” - -Without shame she confessed that Bridport House was bound to be very -hostile, and was there not every reason for such an attitude? Jack, -however, would not yield an inch upon that count, or on any other if it -came to that. He was a primitive creature in whom the call of the blood -was paramount. Moreover, he was a very tenacious fellow. And these -arguments of hers, strongly urged and boldly stated, did not affect his -point of view. The ban of Fortune was purely artificial, it could not -be defended. She was fain, therefore, to carry the war to the enemy’s -country. But if she gently hinted a change of egotism he countered it -astutely with the subtler one of sentimentalism. Each confessed the -other partially right, but so far from clearing the air it seemed to -make the whole matter more complex. The upshot was that he called upon -her to find a valid reason, otherwise he refused point-blank to give -her up. - -“Just think,” he said, tracing her name on the gravel with a -walking-stick, “how hollow the whole business is. How many of Uncle -Albert’s ‘push’ have married American wives without a question? And why -do they, when they wouldn’t think of giving English girls of the same -class an equal chance? In the first place, for the sake of the dollars, -in the second, because it is so easy for them to shed their relations -and forget their origin.” - -But so wide was the gulf between their points of view that mere -argument could not hope to bridge it. If she was in grim earnest, so -was he; moreover she had entered into a compact he was determined she -should fulfill. Before consenting to release her she would have to show -very good cause at any rate. - -Suddenly, in the give-and-take of conflict, Laxton came into her mind. -The memory of Beaconsfield Villas, the whimsical creatures of another -orbit, and the childhood which now seemed ages away, fired her with a -new idea. She would take him to see the humble people among whom she -had been brought up. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS - - -I - -THE flight of time had affected Beaconsfield Villas surprisingly -little. Laxton itself had deferred to Anno Domini in many subtle -ways; it had its electric trams and motor-buses, and the suburb had -doubled in size, but no epoch-making changes were visible in the front -sitting-room of Number Five. In that homely interior the cosmic march -and profluence was simply revealed by a gramophone, the gift of Mary, -on the top of the sewing machine in the corner, and by the accession to -the walls of lithograph portraits of the son and grandson of the august -lady who still held pride of place over the chimney-piece. - -The afternoon was stifling even for South London in the middle of -June. And Joseph Kelly, who had attained the rank of sergeant in the -Metropolitan Police Force, not having to go on duty until six o’clock -that evening, was seated coatless and solemn, spectacles on nose, -smoking a well-colored clay and reading the _Daily Mail_. At the level -of his eyes, in portentous type was, “Laxton Bye-Election. A Sharp -Contest. New Home Secretary’s Chances.” Joe was a shade stouter than -of yore, his face was even redder, a thinning thatch had turned gray, -but in all essentials the man himself was still the genial cockney of -one-and-twenty years ago. - -The outer door of the sitting-room, which was next the street, was wide -open to invite the air. But ever and again there rose such a fierce -medley of noises from a mysterious cause a little distance off, that -at last Joe got up from his chair, and waddling across the room in a -pair of worn list slippers, banged the door against the sounds from the -street which had the power to annoy him considerably. - -Hardly had Joe shuffled back to his chair and his newspaper when the -door was flung open again and an excited urchin thrust a tousled head -into the room. - -“‘Vote for Maclean an’ a free breakfast-table’!” - -The law in the person of Sergeant Kelly rose from its chair -majestically. - -“If you ain’t off--my word!” - -Headlong flight of the urchin. Joe closed the door with violence and -sat down again. But the incident had unsettled him. He seemed unable -to fix his mind on the newspaper. And the noises in the street waxed -ever louder. Now they took the form of cheers and counter cheers, now -of hoots, cat-calls and shouts of derision. At last the tumult rose to -such a pitch that it drew Eliza from an inner room. - -The years had changed her rather more than her husband. But she was -still the active, capable, bustling housewife, with a keen eye for the -world and all that was passing in it. - -“They are making noise enough to wake the dead.” Eliza looked eagerly -through the window. - -“I wish that durned Scotchman hadn’t set his committee-room plumb -oppersite Number Five, Beaconsfield Villas,” was Joe’s sour comment. - -At that moment the all-embracing eye of a relentless housewife swooped -down upon a card lying innocently on the linoleum. It had been flung -there by the recent visitor. Eliza picked it up and read: - ___________________________ - | | - | Vote for Maclean, thus: | - | | - | MACLEAN X | - | WHITLEY. | - |___________________________| - -On the back of the card was a portrait of Sir Dugald Maclean, M.P. - -Eliza gazed at it in astonishment mingled with awe. - -“I am bound to say he is a better-favored jockey than when he came -a-courting our Harriet. Look, Joe!” - -With scornful vehemence, Joe declined the invitation. - -Eliza was sternly advised to tear up the card, but instead she chose to -set it on the chimney-piece. The rash act was too much for her lord. -Once more he rose from his chair, tore the card into little pieces and -flung them into a grate artistically decorated with colored paper. - -“You are jealous!” said Eliza, laughing. - -“Of the likes of him! Holy smoke! But if you think we are going to have -such trash in the same room as the Marquis, you make an error.” - -The words had hardly been uttered when shouts yet more piercing came -from the street. Eliza made a hasty return to the window. - -“Come and look, Joe!” she cried breathlessly. “Here he is with his top -hat and eyeglass. He’s that dossy you wouldn’t know him. He’s dressed -up like a tailor’s dummy.” - -But Joe declined to budge. - -“It fairly makes me sick to think of the feller,” he said. - -A little later, when the tumult in the street had died down a bit, Joe -settled himself in his chair for an afternoon nap. Eliza, duly noting -the symptoms, retired on tiptoe to another room, closing the door after -her gently. But today, alas, the skyey influences were adverse. Joe had -barely entered oblivion when a smart tap at the street door shattered -this precarious peace. With a grudge against society he rose once more, -shambled across the room and flung open the door, half expecting to -find that the urchin had returned to torment him. A dramatic surprise -was in store. On the threshold was a creature so stylishly trim that -even the blasé eye of the Metropolitan Force was sensibly thrilled in -beholding her. “A bit of class” without a doubt, although adorned by -the colors of the People’s Candidate, and surprisingly cool in sheer -defiance of the thermometer. - -“Good afternoon!” The tone of half-confidential intimacy was quite -irresistible. “May I have a little talk with you?” - -“Certainly, miss.” The unconscious gallantry of an impressionable -policeman was more than equal to the occasion. “Step inside and make -yourself at home.” - -When Joe came to review the incident afterwards, it seemed very -surprising that he should have yielded so easily to the impact of -this elegant miss. For instinctively he knew her business. Moreover, -the last thing he desired at that moment was to be troubled by her -or by it. But he had been taken by surprise, and in all circumstances -he would have needed ample notice to deny a lady. He had a great but -impersonal regard for a lady, as some people have for a Rembrandt or -a Corot or a Jan van Steen. And although the fact was not important, -perhaps his sense of humor was a little touched by such a young woman -taking the trouble to come and talk to such a man as himself. - -“I am here,” said the voice of the dove, as soon as its owner had -subsided gracefully upon a chair covered with horsehair, “to ask your -vote and interest for Sir Dugald Maclean, the People’s Candidate.” - -The prophetic soul of Joe had told him that already. But again the -sense of humor, the fatal gift, may have intervened. Had the elegant -miss had any _nous_, she would have known that a sergeant of the X -Division has not a vote to bestow. In justice to the fair democrat, Joe -might have reflected that in the absence of his tunic there was nothing -to show his status. However, he didn’t trouble to do that. It was -enough for him that she was on a fool’s errand. But Joe was a man of -the world as well as a connoisseur of the human female. A picturesque -personality intrigued him. Moreover, it was working for a cause that -Joe despised from the depths of his soul. So much was she “the real -thing” that she had even turned on a melodious lisp for his benefit; -yet he had no particular wish, even under these flattering auspices, to -discuss the people and their champion. He had quite made up his mind -about both. But, the Machiavellian thought occurred to him, here was a -dangerous implement in the hands of the foe, therefore it would be the -part of wisdom to waste a little of her time. - -“‘Government of the people, by the people, for the people,’” lisped the -siren, “that, of course, as you may know, is what Sir Dugald stands -for.” - -“Does he!” reflected Joe. With a roguish smile he looked the speaker -over from her expensive top to her equally expensive toe. - -“You _do_ believe in the people?” said the siren with a rather dubious -air. - -“Since you ask the question, miss,” said Joe, “I am bound to say I -don’t, and never have done.” - -“Not believe in the _people!_” It didn’t seem possible. - -“If you’d seen as much of the people as I have, miss,” said Joe grimly, -“I’m thinking you’d not be quite so set up with ’em.” - -The tone of conviction disconcerted the fair canvasser. Somehow she -had not expected it. In the course of her present ministrations it was -the first time she had met that point of view. Laxton’s working-class, -which for several days had been honored by her delicate flatteries, -had shown such a robust faith in itself and had purred so responsively -to her blandishments that she now took for granted that in all -circumstances it would fully share her own enthusiasm for it. But this -rubicund, coatless Briton, with eyes of half truculent humor, was a -little beyond her. Gloves were needed to handle him; otherwise fingers -of such flowerlike delicacy stood a chance of being bruised. - -“May one ask what you have against them?” lisped the people’s champion, -opening large round eyes. - -“Nothing particular, miss,” said Joe urbanely. “But you ask me whether -I believe in ’em and I say I don’t. Mind you, the people are all right -in their place. I’ve not a word to say against ’em personally. Of a -Monday morning at Vine Street, when the Court has been swep’ an’ dusted -and his Worship has returned from his Sunday in the country, we always -try to make ’em welcome. ‘Let ’em all come,’ that’s the motto of the -Metropolitan Force. But as for _believing_ in ’em, that’s another -story.” - -This was rather baffling for the people’s champion. She was at a loss. -But her faith was sublime. This odd, crass, heavy-witted plebeian who -denied his kind was a sore problem even for the bringer of the light. -Still, she stuck to her guns gallantly. - -“‘Government of the people, by the people, for the people.’” Lisping -the battle cry of Demos she returned stoutly to the charge. Sacred -formulas flowed from her lips in a stream of charming pellucidity. - -“Ah, you don’t know ’em, miss,” ejaculated Joe, at intervals. - -It was a pretty joust; vicarious enthusiasm on the one side, first-hand -experience on the other. But Joe was a rock. The fair canvasser took -forth every weapon of an elegantly-furnished armory, yet without avail. - -“I don’t hold with the people, miss, not in no shape nor form.” - -The tone was so final that at last a sense of defeat came upon this -Amazon. She was still seated, however, without having quite made up her -mind to the inevitable, on her grand chair in the front sitting-room -of Number Five, Beaconsfield Villas, when Fate intervened in quite a -remarkable way. - -All of a sudden, there appeared on the threshold of the open door a -figure tall, fine and unheralded. It was that of Harriet Sanderson. - -“Anybody at home?” she inquired gayly. - -The unexpected visitor was looking very handsome and distinguished in a -well-cut black coat and skirt, and a large hat too plain for fashion, -but very far from _démodé_. She came into the room with that almost -proprietary air she was never without in her intercourse with her own -people. But it was about to suffer an eclipse. - -Harriet just had time to greet her brother-in-law with a happy mingling -of the _bon camarade_ and the woman of the world, her fixed attitude -towards such an Original, whom somehow she could not help liking and -respecting, when her eyes met suddenly those of the fair canvasser. - -For a moment an intense surprise forbade either to speak. But the -people’s champion was the first to overcome the shock. - -“Mrs. Sanderson!” she exclaimed. - -The change in Harriet was immediate and dramatic. - -“Lady Muriel!” A slight flush of a fine face accompanied the tone of -awe. - -The visitor rose. And in the act of so doing an accession of -great ladyhood, almost entirely absent a few minutes ago, seemed -automatically to enter her manner. - -“What a small world it is!” she laughed. “Fancy meeting you here!” - -By now the iron will of the secretly annoyed and oddly discomposed -Harriet was able to reassert itself. - -“It is a small world, my lady.” The tone was a very delicate mingling -of aloofness and respect. - -Brief explanations followed. These quickly culminated in the -presentation of Joe, who then became the most embarrassed of the three. -Unawares and in his shirt sleeves, he had been entertaining an angel. -And to one of Conservative views, with a profound reverence for law, -order and all established things, this seemed to verge upon indecency. -A mere “one of Scotchie’s lady canvassers” had been magically -transformed, in the twinkling of an eye, into Lady Muriel Dinneford, -the third daughter of one whom Number Five, Beaconsfield Villas, always -alluded to as “his Grace.” - - -II - -It was the work of a few tactful minutes for Lady Muriel to effect a -discreet retirement from the scene. Yet so deeply had she been engaged -by Joe’s contumacy, and at the back of a mind which was making the most -heroic efforts to be “broad” was such a sense of amusement, that she -declared her intention of returning anon with the People’s Candidate, -if he could possibly spare a few minutes from his multifarious duties, -in order that the _coup de grâce_ might be given to Mr. Kelly’s -dangerous heresies. - -The withdrawal of the distinguished visitor across the street to the -Candidate’s committee room left a void which for a few tense moments -only wonder could fill. - -It was Joe who broke the silence which, like a pall, had suddenly -descended upon the front parlor of Number Five. - -“If that don’t beat Banagher,” he said. “Fancy one of the Fam’ly taking -the trouble to come a canvassin’ for Scotchie!” - -Keen humor and acute annoyance contended now in the eloquent face of -Harriet. - -“Pray, why shouldn’t she canvass for Sir Dugald Maclean”--the level -voice was pitched in a very quiet key--“if she really believes in his -principles?” - -“How can she believe in ’em, gal?” - -“Why not?” - -“How can a blue blood believe in that sort of a feller?” - -“Sir Dugald is a remarkably clever man. One of the cleverest men in -England, some people think.” - -“That’s nothing to do with the matter. It’s character that counts.” - -“There’s nothing against his character, I believe. At any rate, Lady -Muriel is going to marry him.” - -The state of Joe’s feelings forbade an immediate reply. And when reply -he did, it was in a tone of scorn. Said he: “‘Government of the people, -by the people, for the people!’ Harriet, for a dead beat fool give me a -blue blood aristocrat.” - -“Joe,” came the answer, with a gleam of humor and malice, “I really -think you should learn to speak of our governing class a little more -respectfully.” - -This was rather hard. She ought to have realized that it was because -Joe respected them so much that he now desired to chasten them. - -“Scotchie of all people!” he muttered. - -“There’s no accounting for taste, you know.” There was a sudden flash -of a very handsome pair of eyes. - -“O’ course there ain’t,” said Joe, sorrowfully malicious. “You may have -forgot there was a time when Scotchie came a-courtin’ you.” - -“Do you suppose I am ever likely to forget it!” said Harriet, with a -cool cynicism which took the simple Joseph completely out of his depth. - -“Well, it’s a queer world, I must say.” - -“It is,” his sister-in-law agreed. - -At that moment, Eliza came into the room. The visit of Harriet was -so unexpected as to take her by surprise. But the cause of it was -soon disclosed. Harriet was troubled about Mary. Ever since the girl, -against the wishes and advice of her friends, had taken what they -felt to be a fatal step, there had been a gradual drifting apart. -Harriet had kept in touch with her as well as she could, but she had -not been able to stifle her own private fears. The peril of such a -career, even when crowned by success, was in her opinion, difficult to -exaggerate. She disapproved of the friendship with the Wrens, and had -strongly opposed Mary’s living with them. But as the girl rose in her -profession, Harriet’s hold upon her grew still less. And now at second -and third hand had come news which had greatly upset her. - -With the tact for which she was famous, Harriet did not speak of -this in the presence of Joe. She accompanied Eliza to the privacy of -the best bedroom, ostensibly to “take off her things,” but really to -discuss a matter which for the past week had filled her with misgiving. - -In the meantime, Joe in the parlor set himself doggedly to compass the -nap that so far had been denied him. In spite of the noises in the -street and romantic appearance of a real live member of the Family in -his humble abode, he had just begun to doze when the ban of Fate fell -once more upon him. - -From the strange welter in the amazing world outside there now emerged -a large open motor. And royally it drew up before the magic door of -Number Five. Two persons were seated in the car. One was no less than -Princess Bedalia. The other was the humblest and yet the boldest of her -adorers. - - -III - -The idea itself had been Mary’s that they should use a fine afternoon -in motoring into Laxton, in order to see her parents. Behind this -simple plan was fell design. A week had passed since that conversation -under the trees in the Park in which she had sought in vain for her -release. But so shallow had her reasoning appeared that Jack declined -to take it seriously. He had her promise, and he felt he had every -right to hold her to it. Unless she could show a real cause for -revoking it, he was fully determined not to give her up. - -In desperation, therefore, she had hit on the expedient, a poor and -vain one, no doubt, of taking him to see those humble people whom she -called father and mother. In the course of her twenty odd years up and -down the world she had had intimations from various side winds and -divers little birds that she was an adopted child. Her real parentage -and the circumstances of her birth were an impenetrable mystery and -must always be so, no doubt, but her feeling for the Kellys was one of -true affection and perfect loyalty. Not by word or deed had she hinted -at the possession of knowledge which had come to her from other sources. - -In the circumstances of the case she now allowed herself to imagine -that a visit to her home people in their native habit as they dwelt -might help to cure Jack of his infatuation. An insight into things and -men told her that Beaconsfield Villas must be whole worlds away from -any sphere in which he had moved hitherto. Nor would he be likely to -suspect, as she was shrewdly aware, that a creature so sophisticated -as herself had risen from such humble beginnings. She had a ferocious -pride of her own, but it was not of the kind that meanly denies its -origin. - -“Father,” was her gay greeting to the astonished and still coatless -Joe, “I’ve brought somebody to see you.” - -Jack, wearing a dustcoat and other appurtenances of the chauffeur’s -craft, had followed upon the heels of Princess Bedalia into the front -parlor of Number Five. In response to the young man’s bow, Kelly -offered a rather dubious hand. As became a symbol of law and order -and a member of the straitest sect of the Pharisees, he didn’t feel -inclined to encourage Mary in gallivanting up and down the land. Nor -did he feel inclined to give countenance to any promiscuous young man -she might bring to the house. - -“Mr. Dinneford--my father, Police-Sergeant Kelly.” It was a -delightfully formal introduction, but rather wickedly contrived. - -Jack was so taken aback that he felt as if a feather might have downed -him. But even to the lynx eyes of Mary, which were covertly upon him, -not a trace of his feelings was visible. He merely bowed a second time, -perhaps a little more gravely than the first. - -“Pleased to meet you, sir,” said Sergeant Kelly, in a voice which -showed pretty clearly that he was overstating the truth. - -Mary could not repress the rogue’s laugh that sprang to her lips. - -“Where’s my old mumsie?” she gayly demanded, partly in the hope of -concealing her wicked merriment. - -“Upstairs with your Aunty Harriet.” - -“Aunt Harriet here!” The tone was full of surprise. And then the -charming voice took a turn affectionately non-committal. “What luck! It -seems an age since I saw her.” - -In spite of himself, Joe could not help being a little in awe of the -girl. She was so remarkably striking that every time he saw her it -became harder to keep up the pretense of blood relationship. She had -developed into the finest young woman he had ever met. Her official -father was very proud of her, the affection she inspired in him was -true and real, but at the moment he was more than a little embarrassed -by the impact of an immensely distinguished personality. - -However, in spite of such beauty and charm, he was determined to do his -duty by her; as became a father and a man he felt bound to admonish her. - -“Since you took up with those people, none of us have been seeing much -of you,” he forced himself to say, in his most magisterial manner. - -“Old story!” - -“It’s true and you know it.” Joe declined on principle to be softened -by her blandishments. - -“Wicked old story!” She took him by the shoulders and shook him; and -then she sighed as a mother might have done, and gazed into his solemn -face. “Father,” she said, “you are an old and great dear.” - -“Get along with you!” said Joe sternly, but in spite of himself he -couldn’t help laughing. - -“I’ll leave you and Mr. Dinneford to have a little crack while I take -this to my mumsie.” Brandishing an important-looking milliner’s box, -she left the room in a laughing search of Eliza. - -As soon as Jack found himself alone with Mary’s father a period of -constraint ensued. It would have been wrong to deny that his reception -had been the reverse of cordial. The sensitiveness of a lover, in duty -bound to walk delicately, made no secret of that. Moreover, he was -still so astonished at Mary’s paternity that he felt quite at a loss. -Nature had played an amazing trick. Somehow this serio-comic London -copper in half-mufti, was going to make it very difficult to exercise -the deference due to a prospective father-in-law. - -An acute silence was terminated by Joe’s “Won’t you sit down, sir?” - -Jack sat down; and then Mary’s father, torn between stern disapproval -and the humane feelings of a host, invited the young man solemnly to a -glass of beer. - -“Thank you very much,” said Jack, with admirable gravity. - -Murmuring “excuse me a minute,” Joe went to draw the beer. Left alone -the young man tried to arrange his thoughts; also he took further -stock of his surroundings. He had yet to overcome a powerful feeling -of surprise. It was hard to believe that Princess Bedalia, in the view -of her _fiancé_, the very last word in modern young women, should have -sprung from such a _milieu_ as Number Five, Beaconsfield Villas. It was -a facer. Yet somehow the chasm between Mary and her male parent seemed -almost to enhance her value. She was so superb an original that she -defied the laws of nature. - -The young man was engulfed in an odd train of speculation when Mary’s -father returned with the beer. He poured out two glasses, gave one to -the visitor, took one himself, and after a solemn “Good health, sir!” -solemnly drank it. - -Jack returned the “Good health!” and followed the rest of the ritual. -And then feeling rather more his own man, he made an effort to come to -business. But it was only possible to do that by means of a directness -verging upon the indelicate. - -“Sergeant Kelly,” he said, “have you any objection to my marrying Mary?” - -No doubt the form of the question was a little unwise. At least it -exposed the young man to the prompt rejoinder: - -“I know nothing whatever about you, sir.” - -“My name is Dinneford”--he could not refrain from laughing a little at -the portentous gravity of a prospective father-in-law. “And I think I -can claim that I have always passed as respectable.” - -“Glad to hear it, sir,” said Joe, the light of a respectful humor -breaking upon him. And then measuring the young man with the eye of -professional experience. “May I ask your occupation?” - -“No occupation.” - -“I don’t like the sound o’ that.” Sergeant Kelly sagely shook his head. - -“Perhaps it isn’t quite so bad as it sounds,” said the young man. “At -present, you see, I am a kind of understudy to a sort of uncle I have. -I am in training as you might say, so that one day I may follow in his -footsteps.” - -“An actor,” said the dubious Joe. He didn’t mind actors personally, but -impersonally he didn’t quite hold with the stage. - -“Not exactly,” said the young man coolly, but with a smile. “And yet he -is in his way. In fact, you might call him a prince of comedians.” - -“I’m sorry, sir.” Sergeant Kelly measured each word carefully. “But I’m -afraid that’s only a very little in his favor.” - -“I’m sorry, too,” said Jack. “My uncle is a duke, and the deuce of it -is, I have to succeed him.” - -“A duke!” Sergeant Kelly’s tone of rather pained surprise made it -clear that such a romantic circumstance greatly altered the aspect of -the case. It also implied that he was far from approving an ill-timed -jest on a sacred subject. His brow knitted to a heavy frown. “Well, -sir, I can only say that if such is the case you have no right to come -a-courting our Mary.” - -“For why not, Sergeant Kelly?” - -“You know why not, sir, as well as I do. She’s a fine gal, although -I say it who ought not, but that will not put her right with your -friends. They will expect you to take a wife of your own sort.” - -“But that’s rather my look-out, isn’t it?” - -“Yes, sir, it is,” said Joe, with the air of a warrior, “but as you -have asked me, there’s my opinion. The aristocracy’s the aristocracy, -the middle-class is the middle-class, and the lower orders are the -lower orders--there they are and you can’t alter ’em. At least, that’s -my view of the matter.” - -Jack forced a wry smile. Mary was a chip of the old block. Such an -uncompromising statement seemed at any rate to explain the force of her -conviction upon this vexed subject. - -“Excuse the freedom, sir,” said the solemn Joe, “but you young nobs -who keep on marrying out of your class are undermining the British -Constitution. What’s to become of law and order if you go on mixing -things up in the way you are doing?” - -The young man proceeded to do battle with the Philistine. But the -weapons in his armory were none of the brightest with which to meet the -crushing onset of the foe. - -“It’s no use, sir. As I say, the aristocracy’s the aristocracy, the -middle-class is the middle-class, and the lower orders are the lower -orders--there they are and you can’t alter ’em. You don’t suppose I’ve -reggerlated the traffic at Hyde Park Corner all these years not to know -_that_.” - -In the presence of such a conviction, the best of Jack’s arguments -seemed vain, futile and shallow. Fate had charged Joseph Kelly with the -solemn duty of maintaining the fabric of society, and in his purview, -no argument however cunning, could set that fact aside. - - -IV - -While these two were still at grips, each meeting the arguments of the -other with a sense of growing impatience, the cause of the trouble -intervened. Mary came into the room, leading her mother by the hand. -With the face of a sphinx followed Harriet. - -The blushing Eliza was adorned with a fine coat which had come in the -milliner’s box. Mary had laughingly insisted on her mother appearing in -it, in spite of Eliza’s firm conviction that “it was much too grand.” - -“My word, mother!” roared Joe, at the sight of her splendor. “I’m -thinking I’ll have to keep an eye on _you_.” - -The visitor was promptly introduced, first to the wearer of the coat, -who offered a shy and embarrassed hand, and then to Aunt Harriet, who -stood mute and pale in the background. - -“Why--why, Mrs. Sanderson,” said the young man, “fancy meeting you -here!” - -“You have met before?” said Mary, innocently. - -“We meet very often.” - -“Really?” - -“Why, yes. Mrs. Sanderson is Uncle Albert’s right hand at Bridport -House.” - -A pin might have been heard to fall in the silence that followed. The -blood fled from Mary’s cheeks; they grew as pale as those of her aunt. -Even the knowledge that had recently come to her had not connected Jack -with Bridport House. No attempt had been made to realize exactly who -and what he was. It had been enough that he belonged to a world beyond -her own. And now as this new and astonishing fact presented itself she -saw the strongest possible justification for the attitude she had taken -up. - -As for Harriet, stern and unbending in the background, she was like an -Antigone who abides the decree. Her fears were realized. The worst had -happened. Fate had played such a subtle and unworthy trick that the -instinct uppermost was to resent it bitterly. - -The feelings of the girl were very similar. But her strength of -character and the independence of her position enabled her to -take charge of a situation delicate and embarrassing. In a rather -high-pitched voice, she began to talk generalities in order to -bridge if possible the arid pauses which were always threatening to -submerge the conversation. But at the back of her mind was a growing -sense that secret forces are always at work in this strange world we -inhabit--forces which have a peculiar malice of their own. - -And yet, hopeless as the position had suddenly become for these five -people, the fates had one more barb in their quiver. And it was of so -odd a kind that it was as if the stars in their courses were bent upon -seeing what mischief they could contrive in this particular matter. A -sudden sharp rap from the knocker of the front door fell into the midst -of the growing embarrassment. Joe, welcoming this diversion as relief -to a tension that was almost intolerable, went at once to attend the -cause of it. - -“As I’m a living man,” came a lusty voice from the threshold, “if it -isn’t old Joe Kelly.” - -The People’s Candidate, rosetted, dauntless and triumphant, accompanied -by the lady of his choice, stepped heroically into the small room. -Twenty-three years had wrought a very remarkable change in a very -remarkable man. In that time Dugald Maclean had bent all the powers of -his genius to a task that Miss Harriet Sanderson had discreetly imposed -upon the author of “Urban Love, a Trilogy.” And now he came in, every -inch a victor, he had not looked to find his monitress. But there she -was, pale, grim, yet somehow oddly distinguished in the background of a -room curiously familiar. It was to her that his eyes leapt. - -“Why, Miss Sanderson!” he said, with a conqueror’s laugh, in which -there was no trace of the tongue-tied youth of three and twenty years -ago. Offering a conqueror’s hand, he went forward to greet her. - -Harriet yielded hers with a vivid blush. And as she did so, she was -suddenly aware of two swordlike orbs piercing her right through. - -“I didn’t know Mrs. Sanderson was a friend of yours,” said the honeyed -voice of Lady Muriel. - -“A very old friend,” said Sir Dugald gayly. - -At that moment, however, it was necessary for Lady Muriel to curb her -curiosity. Since her exit from that room half-an-hour ago other people -had gathered in it. She had hardly spoken when her astonished eyes -fell upon Cousin Jack. Their recognition of each other was mutually -incredulous. Yet there was really no reason why it should have been. It -was known to the young man that Muriel had been refused permission to -marry a politician already on the high road to place and power, and it -was known to her that Jack had been going about with an actress. - -“A family party,” said Jack, as their eyes met. “Let me introduce Miss -Lawrence--Lady Muriel Dinneford.” - -An exchange of aloof bows followed. And then, although very careful to -seem to do nothing of the kind, each measured the other with an eye -as hard and bright as a diamond. To neither was the result of this -scrutiny exactly pleasant. It came upon Cousin Muriel with a little -shock of surprise that “the Chorus Girl” should look just as she did, -and that she knew how to bear herself in a way that did not yield an -inch to the enemy, yet at the same time scrupulously refrained from -offering battle. Here was beauty of a very compelling kind, and in -the hostile view of its present beholder something more valuable. The -distinguished air, the look of breeding, went some way to excuse a -deplorable infatuation. But as far as “the Chorus Girl” herself was -concerned, a little over-sensitive as circumstances may have made her -on the score of her own dignity, it was far from pleasant to detect -in this authentic member of the family that power of conveying subtle -insult, without speech or look, which belonged to the two others, -presumably her sisters, whom she had met in the Park. - -Somehow the girl felt a keen rage within. It may have been the world -of unconscious arrogance behind that aloof nod, it may have been the -implicit challenge in the lidded glance down the long straight nose. -But whatever the cause, Mary suddenly felt a surge of resentment in her -very bones. - -In the meantime, the People’s Candidate was playing his part to -perfection. The flight of time had wrought wonders in this champion of -Demos. He was no longer tongue-tied and awkward; even the roll of his -“r’s” was so diminished that Ardnaleuchan would hardly have known its -child. Everything was in perfect harmony. After a few brief passages -with Harriet, audaciously humorous, in which homage was paid to old -times, he turned with a sportsman’s eye to exchange a ready quip with -Joe and Eliza. - -Joe, in his heart, was scandalized. A Tory to the bone, in his view -the social hierarchy was part of the cosmic order. It was unchanging, -immutable. “Scotchie” was a charlatan, tongue in cheek; a mountebank -of a fellow whom it was amazing that honest men, let alone high-born -women, could not see through. Joe was determined to have no truck -with him, but the People’s Candidate with a bonhomie which the former -colleague of the X Division was inclined to regard as mere brazenness, -seemed quite determined not to take rebuffs from an old friend. - -“You haven’t a vote, Joe, I know,” said Maclean, “but you are a man of -influence here and I want you to speak for me with your pals.” - -Joe shook a solemn head. - -“I don’t believe in your principles,” said he. - -The voice, a growl of indignation, struck the ear of Lady Muriel a -veritable blow. In spite of “the breadth” she was trying so hard to -cultivate, the laws of her being demanded that these humble people -should grovel. They were of another caste, another clay; somehow Joe’s -blunt skepticism gave her a sense of personal affront. - -“You have not a vote, Mr. Kelly,” she interposed, in a sharp tone. -“Pray, why didn’t you tell me? A canvasser’s time is valuable.” - -“Your ladyship never asked the question.” - -“But you knew, surely, my object in coming?” - -“I did,” said Joe coolly, with a slightly humorous air. “And I thought -your ladyship so dangerous that the best thing I could do was to get -you barking up the wrong tree.” - -The answer delighted Maclean. He threw up his head and laughed like -a school boy. But in the midst of a mirth that his fiancée was quite -incapable of sharing with him, Jack and Mary rose to go. They had been -waiting to seize the first chance which offered in order to escape from -a decidedly irksome family party. - - -V - -As Mary and Jack took leave, the penetrating eye of the new Home -Secretary regarded them. The two men had not met before, but they -were known to each other by hearsay. Jack had heard little good of -Maclean--Sir Dugald had heard even less good of Jack. A light of -amused malice sprang to their eyes in the moment of recognition. But -from those of the Scotsman it quickly passed. For almost at once his -attention was caught by the affectionate intimacy of the good-bys -bestowed upon Joe, Eliza, and Harriet by a girl of quite remarkable -interest. - -Was it possible? The live thought flashed through Sir Dugald’s mind. -In an instant it had leapt to the November evening of the year 1890. -Immense quantities of water had flowed under the bridge since that far -distant hour. And if this vivid, unforgettable girl was the creature he -now suspected that she must be, here was one example the more of the -romance of time, nature and circumstance. - -As soon as Mary and Jack were away on what they called a joy-ride to -Richmond, all Sir Dugald’s doubts in the matter were laid at rest. -At once there followed a few brief, but pitiless and bitter passages -between Harriet Sanderson and Lady Muriel. - -“Tell me, Mrs. Sanderson,” said the younger woman in a tone of ice, “is -Miss Lawrence a connection of yours?” - -“My niece, my lady,” said Harriet, an odd tremor in her voice. - -“A daughter, I presume, of your sister and her husband?” - -“That is so, my lady.” Harriet’s tone was slowly deepening to that of -her questioner. - -“Of course, the matter will have to be mentioned at once to my father. -And I’m afraid the consequences cannot fail to be serious. You must -feel that it is very wrong to have connived at such a state of things.” - -Harriet’s reply, brief but considered, made with a sudden flush of -color and a lighted eye, was a cold denial. It was a short but painful -scene, and its three witnesses would gladly have been spared it. Lady -Muriel had lost a little of her poise. In spite of her “breadth” she -was simply horrified by her discovery. She could not believe that -Harriet spoke the truth. And the cunning, the duplicity, the chicane of -a retainer who had held a privileged position for so many years filled -her with an inward fury that was almost beyond control. - -“One could not have believed it to be possible,” she said, in a voice -that trembled ominously. And having discharged that Parthian bolt, she -withdrew with the People’s Candidate in order to canvass the next house -in the street. - - -VI - -Such a departure left consternation in its train. After a moment of -complete silence, Eliza burst into a sudden flood of tears, Joe put on -his tunic with the air of a tragedian, but Harriet remained immovable -as a statue. - -“This comes of the stage,” wailed poor Eliza. - -Joe felt the times themselves were to blame, at any rate they were -sadly out of joint. - -“I don’t know what things are coming to,” he said, flinging his -slippers into a corner and putting on his boots. “Things are all upside -down these days and no mistake.” - -Harriet blamed no one. She merely stood white and shaken, a picture of -tragic unhappiness. - -“Gal,” said Joe, turning to her a Job’s comforter, “one thing is sure. -You are going to lose your place.” - -Harriet bit her lip, coldly disdaining a reply. - -“As sure as eggs that’ll be the upshot,” proceeded Joe. “I’m sorry I -let that jockey go without giving him a bit of my mind.” - -“He is not to blame,” said Harriet tensely. - -“Who is, then?” - -“You and me, Joe,” sobbed Eliza, “for letting her go on the stage.” - -“There was no stopping her--you know that well enough. As soon as she -took up her dancing we lost all control of her. But we’ve got to be -pretty sensible now. A nice tangle things are in, and they’ll take a -bit of straightening out.” - -Harriet shook a mournful head. - -“What can people like ourselves possibly do?” she asked. - -“I’ve a great mind,” said Joe, “to step as far as Bridport House and -have a few words with his Grace.” - -“That’s merely preposterous,” said Harriet decisively. - -“The matter must be brought to his notice at once, any way,” said Joe -doggedly. - -“You can count upon that,” said Harriet grimly. - -“But it’ll be one side only. And there’s the other, my gal.” - -“What other?” Harriet asked with a drawn smile. - -“Her side. She is not going to be made a fool of by anyone if I can -help it.” - -Said Harriet very gravely: “Joe, I sincerely hope you will not meddle -in this. I am quite sure that any interference of ours will be most -unwise.” - -But Joe shook the head of a warrior. - -“There you’re wrong. This is our affair and we’ve got to see it -through.” - -“Far better let the matter alone.” - -“When we adopted that girl,” said Joe, “we took a great responsibility -on ourselves, and we’ve got to live up to it. In my opinion that young -man means no good.” - -“You have no right to say that,” said Harriet quickly. - -“I’ve a right to say what I think. And you know as well as I do that -the likes o’ him don’t condescend to the likes o’ her with any good -intention.” - -Harriet flushed darkly. - -“I am quite sure that Mr. Dinneford would always behave like a -gentleman,” she said sternly. - -“That is more than you know.” - -“You seem to forget that he is one of the Family.” - -Joe laughed rather sardonically. “I don’t blame you for being so set up -with your precious Family,” he said. “It is only right that you should -be--but I know what I know. Human nature’s human nature.” - -Harriet shook her head. Not for a moment could she accept this point of -view. Moreover, she strongly urged that there must not be interference -of any kind with Bridport House. - -“That’s as may be,” said Joe stoutly. “But you can take your oath that -I mean to see justice done in the matter.” - -“You talk as if she was your own daughter,” said Harriet, who was -growing deeply annoyed. - -“Ever since I gave her my name and my roof, I have looked on her as a -gal of my own.” - -“Yes, that we have,” chimed Eliza tearfully. “And I am sure that Joe is -right to take the matter up.” - -Again Harriet dissented. In her view, and she did not hesitate to -express it forcibly, it would be sheer folly for people like themselves -to meddle in such a delicate affair. - -“It seems to me,” said Eliza bitterly, “that rather than go against -Bridport House, you would ruin the girl.” - -The words struck home. Eliza had long looked up to her younger sister. -The position she held was one of honor, but Harriet’s exaggerated -concern for an imposing machine of which she was no more than a very -humble cog, somehow aroused Eliza’s deepest feelings. - -“It is a very wicked thing to say.” And in the eyes of Harriet was an -odd look. - -“You set these grandees above everything in the world,” Eliza taunted. -“Like the Dad, you simply worship them.” - -A deadly pallor overspread Harriet’s face. Her eyes grew grim with pain -and anger. But a powerful nature, schooled to self-discipline, fought -for control and was able to gain it. - -“It’s a futile discussion,” she said suddenly, in a changed tone. And -then she added with an earnestness strangely touching. “Joe, I implore -you not to take any step in the matter without first consulting me.” - -The solemn words seemed to gain finality from the fact that Harriet -Sanderson then walked abruptly out of the house. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT - - -I - -THE Duke, in his morning-room, was reading a letter which had just come -to him by post. As he folded it neatly and returned it to an envelope -which bore the stamp of the south-eastern postal district, the light of -humor played over an expressive face. And when, after much reflection, -he took the letter again from its envelope and solemnly re-read it, the -look deepened to the verge of the saturnine. - -Still pondering what he plainly considered to be a priceless document, -a succession of odd grimaces caused him to purse his lips and to frown -perplexedly. At last he dropped his glasses and broke into a guffaw. - -Lying back in his invalid’s chair, still in the throes of an infrequent -laughter, he was presently brought back to the plane of gravity by the -unexpected arrival of Lady Wargrave upon the scene. - -She entered the room with a gladiatorial air. - -The face of his Grace underwent a sudden change at the sight of this -unwelcome visitor. - -Charlotte seated herself ponderously. And then having allowed a -moment’s pause for dramatic effect, she said, marking her brother with -an intent eye, “The plot thickens.” - -“Plot?” he said, warily. - -“Do you wish me to believe that you have not heard the latest -development?” - -“Why speak in riddles, Charlotte?” He was trying to suppress a growing -irritability. - -Charlotte smiled frostily. “One should make allowances, no doubt, for -natural simplicity. But even to the aloofness of philosophers there’s a -limit, my friend. You must know that there is only one subject in all -our minds just now.” - -The Duke, a concentrated gaze upon Charlotte, did not allow himself -to admit anything of the kind. For one thing they were lifelong -adversaries. Charlotte was a meddlesome woman, an intriguer and a -busybody in the sacred name of Family. They had tried many a fall with -each other in the past, and although Providence in making Albert John -the head of the house had given him an unfair advantage, he was often -hard set by Charlotte’s malice and persistency. - -“Have you spoken to that young wretch?” Charlotte lost no time in -coming boldly to the horses. - -“I have not,” was the sour reply. - -“Is it quite wise, do you think, to let the grass grow under your -feet?--particularly having regard to the fact that the person happens -to be a niece of Mrs. Sanderson’s.” This was a very shrewd blow, whose -manner of delivery had been most carefully considered beforehand. -Indeed, so neatly was it planted now that his Grace got the shock of -his life. The surprise was so painfully sharp that he found it hard to -meet the foe without flinching. He had to make a great effort to hold -himself in hand. And Charlotte, a cold eye upon him, followed up in an -extremely businesslike manner. She had a very strong hand to play and a -true warrior, if ever there was one, she was set on wringing out of it -the last ounce of advantage. There had come to her at last, after many -a year of watching and waiting, an opportunity beyond her hopes and her -prayers. - -“Last evening poor Sarah came to me in great distress,” proceeded -Charlotte. “Muriel, it appears, had been electioneering in the -constituency of a certain person, and in the course of her wanderings -up and down the suburbs, she found herself quite by chance at the house -of Mrs. Sanderson’s brother-in-law.” - -By this time his Grace had sufficiently recovered from the blow that -had been dealt him to ask how Muriel had contrived to make that -particular discovery. - -It seemed that she had found Mrs. Sanderson there. - -“The long arm of coincidence,” opined his Grace with a wry smile. He -opined further that the whole thing began to sound uncommonly like a -novel. - -“Sober reality, I assure you, Johnnie. And sober reality can beat -any novel in the power of the human mind to invent, that’s why it’s -so stupid to write them. Muriel entered the house by chance, Mrs. -Sanderson came there, and presently, if you please, Master Jack arrived -by motor with the young person. By the way, Muriel says she is very -good looking.” - -“Quite a family party.” His Grace achieved a light tone with -difficulty. “But I incline to think, Charlotte, you a little overstate -the facts.” - -“It is the story Muriel told Sarah.” - -“Well, I am very unwilling to believe that Mrs. Sanderson knew what was -going on.” - -“Pray, why not?” He was raked by a goshawk’s eye. - -“She would have told me.” - -Somehow those lame, impotent words revealed a man badly hit. Charlotte -saw that at once, and forthwith proceeded to turn the fact to pitiless -advantage. A gust of coarse laughter swept the room. - -“Johnnie, it’s the first time I’ve read you a fool. Simple Simon! Do -you think a woman who has learned to play her cards like that is the -one to give away her hand?” - -This was a second blow planted neatly on the vizor of his Grace. In -spite of his armor of cynicism he could be seen to wince a little. And -the silence which followed enabled the implacable foe to perceive that -he was shaken worse than it seemed reasonable to expect him to be. - -“Perhaps you’ll now permit her to be sent away. A sordid intriguer. She -must go at once.” - -In the trying moment which followed, the Duke, badly hipped, fought -valiantly to pull himself together. But somehow he only just managed to -do so. - -“You make a mistake, Charlotte,” he said, with an effort that clearly -hurt him. “She is not that kind of person. You always have made that -mistake. She is a superior woman in every way. At least, I have always -found her so. I can’t imagine such a woman intriguing for anybody.” - -“Shows how little you know ’em, Johnnie.” Another Gargantuan gust swept -the room. “Every woman intrigues unless she’s a born fool, and this -housekeeper nurse of yours is very far from being that--believe me.” - -For a brief, but uncomfortable moment the Duke thought the matter over -with an air of curious perplexity. Then he said abruptly and with -defiance: - -“I must have further information.” - -“Sarah has the details. It would be well, no doubt, to have her views -on the matter.” - -Whereupon Charlotte rose massively, crossed to the bell and rang it in -order that a much tormented male should enjoy this further privilege. - - -II - -The eldest daughter of the house, when she came on the scene, found the -atmosphere decidedly electric. Her father was glaring with very ominous -eyes; while it was clear from the look on the face of Aunt Charlotte -that she was under the impression that she had downed him at last. No -doubt she had, but if those eyes meant anything there was still a lot -of fight in the stricken warrior. - -Sarah herself was a long, thin, flat-chested person. Totally devoid of -imagination, her horizon was so limited that outside the Family nothing -or nobody mattered. And yet she was not in the least domesticated. In -fact, she was not in the least anything. She was nobly and consistently -null, without opinions or ideas, without humor, charm or amenity. Her -mental outlook had somehow thrown back to the 1840’s, yet with all -her limitations, apart from which very little remained of her, she -was a thoroughly sound, exceedingly honest Christian gentlewoman of -thirty-eight. - -Sarah, it seemed, having heard Muriel’s story, had taken counsel of the -dowager. And at once realizing the extreme gravity of the whole affair, -both ladies determined to make the most of a long-sought opportunity to -give the housekeeper her quietus. Sarah herself, who was inclined to be -embittered and vindictive on this particular point, fell in only too -readily with Aunt Charlotte’s desire to take full advantage of such a -golden chance. Called upon now to divulge all that she knew, the eldest -daughter re-told Muriel’s remarkable story of her meeting with Mrs. -Sanderson, Jack and the girl, in the course of political endeavors at -Laxton. The story, amazing as it was, was undoubtedly authentic. - -“Of course, father,” was Sarah’s conclusion, very pointedly expressed, -“she will simply _have_ to go. And the sooner the better, as no doubt -you agree.” - -To Sarah’s deep annoyance, however, her sire seemed very far from -agreeing. - -“There is no direct evidence of collusion,” he said. “And knowing -Mrs. Sanderson to be an old and tried servant, who has always had our -welfare at heart, I am very unwilling to place such a construction upon -what may be no more than a rather odd coincidence.” - -Sarah was too deeply angry to reply. But she looked on grimly while the -ruthless Charlotte showly marshaled her forces. The quarrel was a very -pretty one. Yet the Duke, now his back was to the wall, was able to -take excellent care of himself. Moreover, he flatly declined to hear a -worthy woman traduced until she had had a chance of meeting charges so -recklessly, and as it seemed, malevolently brought against her. - -“From the way in which you speak of her,” said the incensed Charlotte, -“you appear to regard her as a person of importance.” - -“Charlotte, I regard her as thoroughly honest, trustworthy, -competent--in fact a good woman in every way.” - -“You willfully blind yourself, Johnnie. This creature has thrown dust -in your eyes. But it will be no more than you deserve if one day her -niece is installed as mistress here. You will not live to see it, yet -it would be no more than bare justice if you did.” - -“Pernicious nonsense,” rejoined his Grace. “Perhaps in the -circumstances it would be well to hear what Mrs. Sanderson has to say -for herself.” - -“She is bound to lie.” - -Somehow the precision of the language stung his Grace. - -“You are not entitled to say that,” he flashed. - -“It is the common sense of the situation and one has a perfect right to -express it.” - -“Not here, Charlotte--not in this room before me. If I trust people -implicitly--there are not many that I do--I trust them implicitly, and -I can’t allow even _privileged_ people to speak of them in that way--at -any rate, in my presence.” - -This explosion was so unlooked for that it took the ladies aback. In -all the years they had fought him they had never seen him moved so -deeply. A new Albert John had suddenly emerged. Never before had the -head of the house allowed these enemies to catch a glimpse of such -quixotic, such fantastic chivalry. Charlotte was sourly amused, Sarah, -amazed; but both ladies were deeply angry. - -However, they had fully made up their minds that the housekeeper -must go. Indeed, that had been already arranged at the after-dinner -conference at Hill Street the previous evening. They were convinced -that a woman whom they intensely disliked, whose peculiar position -they greatly resented, was at last driven into a corner. The Duke’s -indecently bold defense of her had taken them by surprise, but it -only made them the more determined to push their present advantage -ruthlessly home. - - -III - -Suddenly Sarah rose and pressed the bell. She demanded of the servant -who answered it that Mrs. Sanderson should appear. - -Harriet, already apprised of Lady Wargrave’s arrival, came at once. She -was quite prepared for a painful scene. Only too well had she reason to -know the state of feeling in regard to herself. She had always been so -able and discreet that she had enforced the outward respect of those -whom she served so loyally. But she well knew that she was not liked -by the ladies of the house, and that the special position she had -come to hold owing to the decline of the Duke’s health, was a _casus -belli_ between him and the members of his family. She had long been -aware that in the opinion of the Dinneford ladies it was no part of -a housekeeper’s functions to act as a trained nurse to their invalid -father. - -Harriet had a natural awe of Lady Wargrave, which she shared with all -under that roof; for Lady Sarah she had the deep respect which she -extended to every member of the august clan it had been her privilege -to serve for so many years. In the devout eyes of Harriet Sanderson -each unit of that clan was not as other men and women. In the matter of -Bridport House and all that it stood for, she was more royalist than -the king. - -From the dark hour, a week ago now, in which the news had come by -a side wind, that the fates by a stroke of perverse cruelty, as it -seemed, had thrown Mary across the path of Mr. Dinneford, she had -hardly known how to lay her head on her pillow. To her mind the whole -thing was simply calamitous. It had thrown her into a state of profound -unhappiness. She now came into the room looking worn and ill, yet fully -prepared for short shift to be meted out to her by those whom she found -assembled there. - -The ladies looked for defiance, no doubt. And they may have looked for -an undercurrent of malicious triumph. Yet if they expected either of -these things their mistake was at once very clear. It was hard to find -a trace of the successful intriguer in the haggard cheeks and somber -eyes of the woman before them. But to minds such as theirs portents of -this kind could not be expected to weigh in the scale against their -preconceived ideas. - -It was left to Lady Wargrave to fix the charge. And this she did with a -blunt precision which was itself a form of insult. The icy tones were -scrupulously polite, nothing was said which one in her position was not -entitled to say in such circumstances, yet the whole effect was so -deadly in its venom as to be absolutely pitiless. - -At first Harriet was overwhelmed. The force of the attack was beyond -anything she had looked for. Moreover, it seemed to fill the Duke, an -unwilling auditor, with anger and pain. He moved uneasily in his chair, -yet he was not able to check the cold torrent of quasi-insult by word -of mouth, for none knew better than Lady Wargrave how to administer -castigation without going outside the rules of the game. - -Even when the shock of the first blows was past, Harriet could find -no means of defending herself. She was a very proud woman. Her -blamelessness in what she could only regard as a very odious matter was -so clear to her own mind that it did not seem to call for re-statement. -She, too, said nothing. But a hot flush came upon the thin cheek. - -Lady Wargrave grew more and more incensed by a silence, the cause of -which she completely mistook. - -“You have been nearly thirty years here, Mrs. Sanderson, and you have -been guilty of a wicked abuse of trust.” - -The painful pause which followed this final blow was broken at last by -the Duke. - -“You must forgive me, Charlotte, if I say that the facts of the case as -they have been presented, hardly justify such a statement.” - -The tone was honey. And it was in such ironical contrast to Charlotte’s -own that nothing could have shown more clearly the wide gulf between -their points of view or the envenomed strife of many years now coming -to a head. - -“They prove the charge to the hilt.” The hawk’s eyes of Charlotte -contracted ominously. - -“What charge?--if you don’t mind stating it explicitly.” - -“Mrs. Sanderson has used her position here to make her niece known to -the future head of this house, she has connived at their intimacy, she -appears to have fostered it in every way.” - -“I don’t think you are entitled to say that, Charlotte.” The Duke spoke -slowly and pointedly, and then he turned to Harriet with an air of such -delicate politeness that it added fuel to the flame which was withering -her traducers. “If it is not asking too much, Mrs. Sanderson,” he said, -with a smile of grave kindness, “I should personally be very grateful -if you would be wicked enough to defend yourself. Let me say at once -that I am far from accepting the construction Lady Wargrave has placed -on the matter. But her zeal for a time-honored institution is so great -that if her judgment is outrun, it seems only kind to forgive her.” - -Such oblique but resounding blows in the sconce of Charlotte filled her -with a fury hard to hold in check. - -“What defense is possible?” Her voice was like a crane. “The facts are -there to look at. Mrs. Sanderson’s niece has extracted a promise of -marriage.” - -The Duke turned to Harriet rather anxiously. - -“I sincerely hope Lady Wargrave has been misinformed,” he said. - -Harriet flushed. - -“I only know”--speech for her had become almost intolerably -difficult--“that Mr. Dinneford has asked my brother-in-law’s consent to -his marrying her.” - -The Duke may have been deeply annoyed, but not a line of his face -betrayed him. - -“Who is your brother-in-law, Mrs. Sanderson?” - -Harriet told him. - -“A very honest man”--the Duke checked a laugh--“I have been honored by -a letter from him this morning.” - -Even the lacerated Harriet could not forbear to smile. - -“I am sure,” said she, “he will not let Mary marry Mr. Dinneford if he -can help it.” - -“Why not?” sharply interposed Lady Wargrave. - -“Why not, Charlotte?” Her brother took upon himself to answer the -question. “Because Sergeant Kelly is a very sensible and enlightened -man who evidently tries to see things in their right relation.” - -“Fiddle-de-dee!” said Charlotte, with the bluntness for which she was -famous. “Depend upon it, he knows as well as anybody on which side his -bread is buttered.” - -Her brother shook his head. “I think,” he said, “if you had had the -privilege of reading Sergeant Kelly’s letter you would be agreeably -surprised. At any rate, he seems quite to share your view of the -sacredness of the social fabric.” - -“Let us look at the facts,” said Charlotte. “This marriage has to be -prevented at all costs. And I hope it is not too much to ask Mrs. -Sanderson that she will give us any assistance which may lie in her -power.” - -The look upon Lady Wargrave’s face, as she made the request, clearly -implied that help from such a quarter must, in the nature of things, be -negligible. But in spite of the covert insult in the tone and manner -of the dowager, Harriet replied very simply that there was nothing she -would leave undone to prevent such a catastrophe. - -“I am quite sure, Mrs. Sanderson, we can count upon that,” said the -Duke, in a tone which softened considerably the humiliating silence -with which the promise had been received. - -“To begin with,” said the Duke, turning to Harriet, “I shall ask -your brother-in-law to come and see me. Evidently he is one of these -sensible, straightforward men who can be trusted to take a large view -of things.” - -The face of Lady Wargrave expressed less optimism. - -“There is one question I would like to put to Mrs. Sanderson,” she -suddenly interposed. It seemed that she had reserved for a final attack -the weapon on which she counted most. “Be good enough to tell me this.” -The ruthless eye was fixed on Harriet. “How long, Mrs. Sanderson, have -you known of Mr. Dinneford’s intimacy with your niece?” - -There was a slight but painful pause, and it was broken by a rather -faltering reply. - -“It is just a week since I first heard of it, my lady.” - -“Just a week! And in the whole of that time you have not thought well -to mention the matter?” - -The tone cut like a knife. And the stab it dealt was so deep that -Harriet was unable to answer the question which propelled it. - -“_Why didn’t_ you mention it, Mrs. Sanderson?” - -The blood fled suddenly from Harriet’s cheek. She grew nervous and -confused. - -“Please answer the question.” There was now a ring of triumph in the -pitiless tone. - -“I wished to spare his Grace unpleasantness,” stammered Harriet. - -“Very thoughtful of you, Mrs. Sanderson,” said Lady Wargrave, -bitingly. “No doubt his Grace appreciates your regard for his feelings. -But even if that was the motive, surely it was your duty to report the -matter to Lady Sarah as soon as it came to your knowledge.” - -The hesitation of Harriet grew exceedingly painful to witness. - -“Yes,” she said at last. Tears suddenly sprang to her eyes. “I begin to -see now that it _was_ my duty. I wish very much that I _had_ mentioned -the matter to Lady Sarah.” - -Both ladies were so fully set on the overthrow of this serpent that the -air of touching, exquisite simpleness went for nothing. But in any case -they would have been too obtuse to notice it. - -“We all wish that.” Lady Wargrave pursued her advantage pitilessly. -“And I am sure I speak for his Grace as well as for the rest of us.” -She trained a look of malicious triumph upon the perplexed and frowning -face of her brother. - -As became a consummate tactician who now had the affair well in hand, -Charlotte gave the Duke a moment to intervene if he felt inclined to -do so. But she well knew, a kind of instinct told her, that the attack -had succeeded completely. The housekeeper made such a feeble attempt -to parry it, that for the time being her champion was dumb. Nor was -this surprising. In the opinion of both ladies the sinister charge of -collusion had now been proved to the hilt. - -Lady Wargrave having given her brother due opportunity for a further -defense of Mrs. Sanderson, which he had quite failed to grasp, -proceeded coldly and at leisure to administer the _coup de grâce_. - -“I am afraid, Mrs. Sanderson,” she said, “that in these circumstances -only one course is open to you now.” - -She was too adroit, however, to state exactly what that course was. She -was content merely to suggest it. But Harriet did not need to be told -what the particular alternative was that her ladyship had in mind. - -“You wish me to resign my position,” she said, in a low calm voice. She -turned with tears in her eyes to the eldest daughter of the house. “I -beg leave to give a month’s notice from today, my lady. If you would -like me to go sooner, I will do so at any time you wish.” - -The words and manner showed a consideration wholly lacking in the -measure meted out to herself. There was so little of pride or of -wounded dignity that the tears were running in a stream down the pale -cheeks. Uppermost in Harriet Sanderson was still a feeling of profound -veneration for those to whom she had dedicated the best years of her -life. - - -IV - -The ladies of the Family had won the day. Mrs. Sanderson was going. -It was an occasion for rejoicing. She had intrigued disgracefully; -moreover, it had long felt that this clever, unscrupulous, plausible -woman had gained a dangerous ascendancy over the head of the house. But -Aunt Charlotte, it seemed, with the tactical skill for which she was -famous, had driven her into a corner and had forced her to surrender. - -In the opinion of Sarah, Mrs. Sanderson had behaved very well. It was, -of course, impossible to trust that sort of person; but to give the -woman her due, she had appeared to feel her position acutely; she had -promised, moreover, to undo as far as in her lay the mischief she had -caused. The ladies saw no inconsistency in that. They had formed a low -opinion of Mrs. Sanderson--for what reason they didn’t quite know--but -now that she had received her _congée_ and they were to have their own -way at last there would be no harm in taking up a magnanimous attitude -towards her. - -As far as it went this was well enough, but a serious and solemn task -had been imposed upon various people by the circumstances of the case. -It now seemed of vital importance to those concerned that Jack should -become engaged to Marjorie without further delay. With that end in -view the ladies of the Family were now working like beavers. But all -they had done so far had not been enough. In vain had the lure been -laid in sight of the bird. In vain had they used the arts and the -subtleties of their sex. For several weeks now Jack and Marjorie had -been thrown together on every conceivable pretext, yet the only result -had been that the future head of Bridport House had re-affirmed a fixed -intention of taking a wife from the stage. - -Three days after Lady Wargrave had gained her signal triumph over Mrs. -Sanderson, the Duke was at home to an odd visitor. In obedience to -the written request of his Grace’s private secretary, Sergeant Kelly -presented himself about noon at Bridport House. - -Fortunately, Joe had been able to arrange for a day off for the -purpose. Thus the dignity of man, also the dignity of the Metropolitan -Force, were upheld by impressive mufti. He had discarded uniform for -his best Sunday cutaway, old and rather shining it was true, but black -and braided, with every crease removed by Eliza’s iron; a pair of light -gray trousers, superbly checked; a white choker tie and a horse-shoe -pin; while to crown all, a massive gold albert, a recent gift from -Mary, was slung across a noble expanse of broadcloth waistcoat. - -“Good morning, Sergeant Kelly,” said a musical voice, as soon as the -visitor was announced. The Duke in the depths of his invalid chair -looked at him from under the brows of a satyr. “Excuse my rising. I’m a -bit below the weather, as you see.” - -Joe, secretly prepared for anything in the matter of his reception, -was impressed most favorably by such a greeting. Somehow the note of -cordiality was so exactly that of one man of the world to another, -that Joe was conscious of a subtle feeling of flattery. He was invited -to sit, and he sat on the extreme verge of a Sheraton masterpiece, -pensively twisting between his hands a brand-new bowler hat purchased -that morning en route to Bridport House. - -“Sergeant Kelly,” said the Duke, speaking with a directness that Joe -admired, “I liked your letter. It was that of a sensible man.” - -“Good of your Grace to say so,” said Joe, a nice mingling of dignity -and deference. - -“I agree with you that the matter is extremely vexatious.” - -Joe took a long breath. “It’s haggeravating, sir,” said he. - -“Quite so,” said his Grace, with a whimsical smile. “But as a matter of -curiosity, may I ask what had led you to that conclusion?” - -“Just this, sir.” Joe laid the new bowler hat on the carpet, squared -his shoulders and fixed the Duke with his eye. “The aristocracy’s -the aristocracy, the middle-class is the middle-class, and the lower -h’orders are the lower h’orders--there they are and you can’t alter -’em. Leastways that was the opinion of the Marquis.” - -“I’m not sure that I know your friend,” said the Duke with charming -urbanity, “but I’m convinced his views are sound. If I read your letter -aright, you are as much opposed to the suggested alliance between your -daughter and my kinsman as I am myself.” - -“That is so, your Grace. It simply won’t do.” - -“I quite agree,” said the Duke, “but from your point of view--why won’t -it? I ask merely for information.” - -“Why won’t it, sir?” said Joe, surprisedly. “Don’t I say the -aristocracy’s the aristocracy?” - -“In other words you disapprove of them on principle?” - -“No, sir, it’s because I respect ’em so highly,” said Joe, with a -simple largeness that bore no trace of the sycophant. “I’ve not -reggerlated the traffic at Hyde Park Corner all these years without -learning that it won’t do to keep on mixing things up in the way we’re -doing at present. Things are in a state of flux, as you might say.” - -“Profoundly true,” said the Duke, with a fine appearance of gravity. -“And I have asked you to come here, Sergeant Kelly, to advise me in -a very delicate matter. In the first place, I assume that you have -withheld your consent to this ridiculous marriage.” - -“That is so, your Grace. But the young parties are that headstrong -they may not respect their elders. I told the young gentleman what my -feeling was, and I told the girl, but I’m sorry to say they laughed at -me. Yes, sir, society is in a state of flux and no mistake.” - -“Well, Sergeant Kelly, what’s to be done?” - -“I should like your Grace to speak a word to the parties. Seemingly -they take no notice of me. But perhaps they might of you, sir.” - -The Duke smiled and shook his head. - -“Well, sir, they only laugh at me,” said Joe. “But with you it would be -different.” And then with admirable directness: “Why not see the girl -and give her your views in the matter? She’s very sensible and she’s -been well brought up.” - -The Duke looked at his visitor steadily. If his Grace was in search of -_arrière pensée_, he failed to find a sign of it in that transparently -honest countenance. - -“A bold suggestion,” he said, with a smile. “But I don’t know that I -have any particular aptitude for handling headstrong young women.” - -Joe promptly rebutted the ducal modesty. “Your words would carry -weight, sir. She’s a girl who knows what’s what, I give you my word.” - -The Duke could hardly keep from laughing outright at the sublime -seriousness of this old bobby. But at the same time curiosity stirred -him. What sort of a girl was this who owned such a genial grotesque -of a father? It would impinge on the domain of comic opera to instal -such a being as the future châtelaine of Bridport House. Still, as his -visitor shrewdly said, society was in a state of flux. - -“My own belief is,” said Joe, “that she’s the best girl in England, and -if your Grace would set your point of view before her as you have set -it before me, I’m thinking she’d do her best to help us.” - -The Duke was impressed by such candor, such openness, such simplicity. -After all, there was just a chance that things might take a more -hopeful turn. - -“She’s not one to go where she’s not wanted, sir,” said Joe. “And my -belief is that if you have a little talk with her and let her know how -you feel about it, you may be spared a deal o’ trouble.” - -“You really think that?” said the Duke with a sigh of relief. - -“I do, sir. Leastways, if you ain’t, Joseph Kelly will be disappointed.” - -Such disinterestedness was not exactly flattering, yet the Duke was -touched by it. Indeed, Sergeant Kelly’s sturdy common sense was so -reassuring that he was invited to have a cigar. At the request of his -host, he pressed the bell, one long and one short, and in the process -of time a servant appeared with a box of Coronas. Joe chose one, smelt -it, placed it to his ear and then put it sedately in his pocket. - -“I’ll not smoke it now, sir,” he said urbanely. “I’ll keep it until I -can really enjoy it.” - -He was graciously invited to take several. With an air of polite -deprecation he helped himself to three more. Then he realized that the -time had come to withdraw. - -The parting was one of mutual esteem. If the girl would consent to pay -a visit to Bridport House, the Duke would see her gladly. But again his -Grace affirmed that he was not an optimist. Society _was_ in a state -of flux, he quite agreed, democracy was knocking at the gate and none -knew the next turn in the game. Still the Duke was not unmindful of -Sergeant Kelly’s remarkable disinterestedness, and took a cordial leave -of him, fully prepared to follow his advice in this affair of thorns. - -As soon as the door had closed upon the dignified form of Sergeant -Kelly, the Duke lay back in his chair fighting a storm of laughter. -Cursed with a sense of humor, at all times a great handicap for such a -one as himself, its expression had seldom been less opportune or more -uncomfortable. For there was really nothing to laugh at in a matter of -this kind. The thing was too grimly serious. - -Still, for the moment, this amateur of the human comedy was the victim -of a divided mind. He wanted to laugh until he ached over this solemn -policeman upholding the fabric of society. - -“By gad, he’s right,” Albert John ruminated, as he dipped gout-ridden -fingers in his ravished cigar box. “Things _are_ in a state of flux.” -He cut off the end of a cigar. “My own view is that this monstrous -bluff which these poor fools have allowed some of us to put up since -the Conquest, more or less, will mighty soon be about our ears. -However,”--Albert John placed the cigar between his lips--“it hardly -does to say so.” - -For a time this was the sum of his reflections. Then he pressed the -bell at his elbow and the servant reappeared. - -“Ask Mr. Twalmley to be good enough to telephone to Mr. Dinneford. I -wish to see him at once.” - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -A TRAGIC COIL - - -I - -MARY, breakfasting late and at leisure, before her ride at eleven, had -propped the _Morning Post_ against the coffee-pot. Milly was arranging -roses in a blue bowl. - -“I’m miserable!” Mary suddenly proclaimed. She had let her eyes stray -to the column devoted to marriage and the giving in marriage, and at -last she had flung the paper away from her. - -“Get on with your breakfast,” said the practical Milly. “I’ve really no -patience with you.” - -Mary rose from the table with big trouble in her face. - -“You’re a gaby,” said Milly, scornfully. “If everybody was like you -there’d be no carrying on the world at all. You’re absurd. Mother is -quite annoyed with you, and so am I.” - -“I’m simply wretched.” The tone was very far from that of the fine -resolute creature whom Milly adored. - -The truth was Mary had been following a policy of drift and it was -beginning to tell upon her. Nearly a week had gone since the visit to -Laxton had disclosed a state of things which had trebly confounded -confusion. Besides, that ill-timed pilgrimage had given duty a sharper -point, a keener edge, but as yet she had not gathered the force of will -to meet the hard logic of the matter squarely. - -In spite of a growing resolve to make an end of a situation that all -at once had become intolerable, she had weakly consented to ride -that morning with Jack as usual. So far he had proved the stronger, -no doubt because two factors of supreme importance were on his side. -One was the promise into which very incautiously she had let herself -be lured, to which he had ruthlessly held her, the other the simple -fact that she was deeply in love with him. It had been very perilous -to temporize, yet having been weak enough to do so, each passing day -tightened her bonds. The little scheme had failed. Laxton had caused -not the slightest change in his attitude; he was not the kind of man -to be influenced by things of that kind; only a simpleton like herself -would expect him to be! No, the plain truth was he was set more than -ever on not giving her up, and it was going to be a desperate business -to compel him. To make matters worse his attraction for her was great. -There was a force, a quality about him which she didn’t know how to -resist. When they were apart she made resolves which when they were -together she found herself unable to keep. The truth was, the cry of -nature was too strong. - -Milly looked up from her roses to study a picture of distraction. - -“You odd creature.” A toss of a sagacious head. - -The charge was admitted frankly, freely, and fully. - -“I don’t understand you in the least.” A wrinkling of a pert nose. - -“I don’t understand myself.” - -Milly looked at her wonderingly. “I really don’t. You are quite beyond -me. If you were actually afraid of these people, which I don’t for a -moment think you are, one might begin to see what’s at the back of your -absurd mind.” - -“Why don’t you think I’m afraid of them?” Mary in spite of herself was -a little amused by the downrightness. - -The question brought her right up against an eye of very honest -admiration. - -“Because, Miss Lawrence, it simply isn’t in you to be afraid of -anybody.” - -Princess Bedalia shook a rueful head. “You say that because you don’t -know all. I’m in a mortal funk of Bridport House.” - -“That I won’t believe,” said the robust Milly. “And if a fit of -high-falutin’ sentiment, for which you’ll get not an ounce of credit, -causes you to throw away your happiness, and turn your life into a -sob-story, neither my mother nor I will ever forgive you, so there!” - -“You seem to forget that I am the housekeeper’s niece.” - -“As though it mattered.” The pert nose twitched furiously. “As though -it matters a row of little apples. You are yourself--your big and -splendid self. Any man is lucky to get you.” - -But the large, long-lashed eyes were full of pain. “We look at things -so differently. I can’t explain what I mean or what I feel, but I want -to see the whole thing, if I can, as others see it.” - -“We are the others--mother and I,” said Milly, stoutly. “But as we -are not titled snobs with Bridport House stamped on our notepaper, I -suppose we don’t count.” - -“That’s not fair.” A curious look came into Mary’s face, which Milly -had noticed before and, for a reason she couldn’t explain, somehow -resented. “They have their point of view and it’s right that they -should have. Without it they wouldn’t be what they are, would they?” - -“You speak as if they were better than other people.” - -“Why, of course.” - -“I shall begin to think you are as bad as they are,” Milly burst out -impatiently. “You are the oddest creature. I can understand your not -going where you are not wanted, but that’s no reason why you should -fight for the other side.” - -“I want them to have fair play.” - -“It’s more than they mean you to have, any way.” - -“One oughtn’t to say that.” The tone had a quaint sternness, charming -to the ear, yet with a great power of affront for the soul of Milly. - -“Miss Lawrence,” said that democrat, “you annoy me. If you go on like -this before mother she’ll shake you. The trouble with you”--a rather -fierce recourse to a cigarette--“is that you are a bit of a prig. You -must admit that you are a bit of a prig, aren’t you now?” - -“More than a bit of one,” sighed Mary. And then the light of humor -broke over her perplexity. In the eyes of Milly this was her great -saving clause; and in spite of an ever-deepening annoyance with -her friend for the hay she was making of such amazingly brilliant -prospects, she could not help laughing at the comic look of her now. - -“You are much too clever to take things so seriously,” said Milly. “You -are not the least bit of a prig in anything else, and that’s why you -made me so angry. Be sensible and follow your luck. Jack should know -far better than you. Besides, if you didn’t mean to keep your word, why -did you give it?” - -This was a facer, as the candid Milly intended it to be. - -“Because I was a fool.” At the moment that seemed the only possible -answer. - - -II - -The argument had not gone farther when a rather strident “coo-ee” -ascending from the pavement below found its way through the open window. - -“Diana, you are wanted.” The impulsive Milly ran on to the little -balcony to wave a hand of welcome to a young man in the street. - -It was the intention, however, of the young man in the street, as soon -as he could find someone to look after his horses, to come up and have -a talk with Mary. To the quick-witted person to whom he made known -that resolve, he seemed much graver than usual. It hardly required any -special clairvoyance on the part of Milly to realize that something was -in the wind. - -Three minutes later, Jack had found his way up and Milly had effaced -herself discreetly. This morning that warrior was not quite the -serenely humorous self whom his friends found so engaging. Recent -events had annoyed him, disquieted him, upset him generally, and the -previous afternoon they had culminated in a long and unsatisfactory -interview at Bridport House. - -Those skilled in the signs might have told, from the young man’s -manner, that he had cast himself for a big thinking part. This morning -he was “all out” for diplomacy. He would like Mary to know that -his back was to the wall, and that he must be able to count on her -implicitly in the stern fight ahead; but the crux of the problem was, -and for that reason he felt such a great need of cunning, if he let -her know the full force and depth of the opposition the effect upon -her might be the reverse of what he intended. Even apart from the stab -to her pride, she was quite likely to make it a pretext for further -quixotism. Therefore, Mr. John Dinneford had decided to walk very -delicately indeed this morning. - -His Grace, it appeared, had asked to see the lady in the case. Jack, -however, scenting peril in the request, had by no means consented -lightly to that. Diplomacy, assuming a very large D, had promptly -assured him that his kinsman and fiancée were far too much birds of a -feather; their method of looking at large issues was ominously alike. -Mary had developed what Jack called “the Aunt Sanderson viewpoint” to -an alarming degree. Aunt Sanderson, no doubt, had acquired it in the -first place from the fountain head; its authenticity therefore made it -the more perilous. - -“Uncle Albert sends his compliments and hopes you’ll be kind enough -to go and see him.” The statement was made so casually that it was -felt to be a masterpiece of the non-committal. He would defy anyone to -tell from his tone how he had fought the old wretch, how he had tried -to outwit him, how he had done his damnedest to short-circuit a most -mischievous resolve. - -“Now.” The diplomatist took her boldly by a very fine pair of -shoulders, and so made a violent end of the pause which had followed -the important announcement. “Whatever you do, be careful not to give -away the whole position. There’s a cunning old fox to deal with, and if -he finds the weak spot, we’re done.” - -“You mean he thinks as I do?” - -“I don’t say he does exactly, but, of course, he may. When you come to -Bridport House, you are up against all sorts of crassness.” - -“Or common sense, whichever you choose to call it,” said the troubled -Mary. - -“Don’t you go playing for them.” He shook the fine shoulders in a -masterful colonial manner. “If you do, I’ll never forgive you. Bridport -House can be trusted to take very good care of itself. We’ve got to -keep our own end going. If we have really made up our minds to get -married, no one has a right to prevent us, and it’s up to you to let -his Grace know that.” - -Again came the look of trouble. “But suppose I don’t happen to think -so?” - -“I think so for you. In fact, I think it so strongly that I intend to -answer for both.” - -She could not help secretly admiring this cool audacity. At any rate, -it was the speech of a man who knew his own mind, and in spite of -herself it pleased her. - -“Now, remember.” Once more the over-bold wooer resorted to physical -violence: “You simply can’t afford to enjoy the luxury of your fine -feelings in this scene of the comedy. As I say, he’s a cunning old fox -and he’ll play on them for all he’s worth.” - -“But why should he?” - -“Because he knows you are Mrs. Sanderson’s niece.” - -“In his opinion that would make one the less likely to have them, -wouldn’t it?” She tried very hard to keep so much as a suspicion of -bitterness out of her tone, yet somehow it seemed almost impossible to -do that. - -“He’s not exactly a fool. Nobody knows better than he that your Aunt -Sanderson is more royalist than the king. And my view is that he and -she have laid their heads together in order to work upon your scruples.” - -“Pray, why shouldn’t they? Isn’t it right that they should?” - -“There you go!” he said sternly. “Now, look here.” In the intensity of -the moment his face was almost touching hers. “I’m next in at Bridport -House, so this is my own private funeral. But I just want to say this. -A man can’t go knocking about the world in the way I have done without -getting through to certain things. And as soon as that happens one no -longer sees Bridport House at the angle at which it sees itself. White -marble and precedence were all very well in the days of Queen Victoria, -but they won’t build airships, you know.” - -“I never heard of a duchess building airships.” - -“It’s the duke who is going to do the building. The particular hobo -I’m figuring on has got to take a hand in all sorts of stunts at this -moment of the world’s progress which will make his distinguished -forbears turn in their graves, no doubt. It seems to me he’s got to do -a single on the big time, as they say in vaudeville, and the finest -girl in the western hemisphere must keep him up to his job.” - -“‘Some’ talk,” said Mary, with a smile rather drawn and constrained. - -“You see”--the force of his candor amused her considerably--“I’ve -drawn a big prize in the lottery, and if I let myself be robbed of it -by other people’s tomfool tricks, I’m a guy, a dead-beat, an out and -out dud.” - -“But don’t you see,” she urged, laughing a little, although suffering -bitterly, “how cruel it would be for them, poor souls? We _must_ think -of them a little.” - -“Why should they come in at all?” - -“I really think they ought, poor dears. After all, they stand for -something.” She recalled their former talk on this vexed subject. - -“What do they stand for?--that’s the point. They are an inbred lot, a -mass of conceit and silly prejudice. I’m sorry to give them away like -this, but, after all, they are only very distant relations to whom I -owe nothing, and they have a trick of annoying me unspeakably.” - -“I won’t have you say such things.” The stern line of a truly adorable -mouth was a delight, a challenge. “You are one of them, whether you -want to be or whether you don’t, and it’s your duty to stand by them. -_Noblesse oblige_, you know.” - -“And that means a scrupulous respect for the feelings of other people, -if it means anything. No, let us see things as they are and come down -to bedrock.” And as the Tenderfoot spoke after this manner, he took a -hand of hers in each of his in a fashion at once whimsical, delicate, -and loverlike. Somehow he had the power to put an enchantment upon her. -“You’ve got to marry me whatever happens.” - -“Oh, don’t ask me to do that.” Black trouble was now in her eyes. -“Don’t ask me to go where I’m not wanted.” - -“Certainly you shan’t. We can do without Bridport House, and if they -can do without us, by all means let ’em.” - -“But they are in a cleft stick, aren’t they? If you insist, they will -simply have to climb down, and that’s why it would be cruel to make -them. Don’t be too hard upon them--_please_!” A sudden change of voice, -rich and surprising, held him like magic. “Somehow they don’t quite -seem to deserve it. They have their points. And they are really rather -big and fine if you see them as I do.” - -“They are crass, conceited, narrow, ossified. They think the world was -made for ’em, instead of thinking they were made for the world. It’s -time they had a lesson. And you and I have got to teach ’em.” He took -her wrists and drew her to him. “We’ve got to larn ’em to be toads--you -and me.” - -“On these grounds you command me!” The flash of glorious eyes was a -direct challenge. - -“No, on these--you darling.” And he took her in his arms and held her -in a grip of iron. - - -III - -“Please, please!” - -Reluctantly he let her go--provisionally and on sufferance. - -But there was something in her face that looked like fear. The -observant lover saw it at once, and the invincible lover tried to -dispel it. - -“Why take it tragically?” he said. “It’s a thing to laugh at, really.” - -She shook a solemn head. “We _must_ think of them--you must at any -rate. You are all they have, and you are bound to play for them as -well as you know how--aren’t you, my dear?” The soft fall of her voice -laid a siren’s spell upon him. His eyes glowed as he looked at her. - -“No, I don’t see it in that way,” he said. “Somehow I can’t. It’s my -colonial outlook, I daresay--anyhow there it is--simply us two. The -bedrock of the matter is you and me? And when you get down to that, -other people don’t come in, do they?” - -Again she shook a head rather woeful in its defiance. “Poor Aunt -Harriet came to me yesterday. I wish you could have seen her. This -means the end of the world for her. She almost went down on her knees -to implore me not to marry you.” - -The Tenderfoot snorted with impatience. “That’s where this old -one-horse island gets me all the time. Things are all wrong here. -They’re positively medieval.” - -“You forget”--the tone of the voice was stern dissent--“she’s been -thirty years a servant in the Family.” - -“That should make her all the prouder to see her niece married to the -head of it.” He was determined to stand his ground. - -“Yes, but she understands what it means to them. She has thought -herself into their skins; she lives and moves and has her being in -Bridport House. Dear soul, it makes me weep to think of her! She almost -forced me to give you up.” - -“You can’t do that, not on grounds of that kind.” - -“Why can’t I?” - -“Because I won’t let you.” She was bound to admire this masculine -decision. “Your Aunt Sanderson is a woman of fine character and Uncle -Albert has a great regard for her, but why let ourselves be sidetracked -by prejudice? You see this is the call of the blood, and--under -Providence!--it means the grafting of a very valuable new strain upon -a pretty effete one. I mean no disrespect to Bridport House, but look -what the system of intermarriage has done for it. From all one hears -poor Lyme was better out of the world than in it. And that parcel of -stupid women! And, of course, I should never have been here at all if -another couple of consumptive cousins hadn’t suddenly decided to hand -in their checks. So much for the feudal system, so much for inbreeding -and marrying to order. No, it won’t do!” - -In spite of her own deep conviction, she could not hope to shake such -force and such sincerity. She was bound to admit the strength of his -case. But the power of his argument left her in a miserable dilemma, -from which there seemed but one means of escape. There must be no -half-measures. - -“Let us be wise and make an end now,” she said very softly. - -“It’s not playing fair if you do,” was the ruthless answer. “Besides, -as I say, Uncle Albert wants to see you.” - -“I am quite sure it would be far better to end it all now.” - -“You must go and see Uncle Albert before we decide upon anything,” he -said determinedly. - -“I don’t mind doing that, if really he wishes it.” There was a queer -little note of reverence in her tone, which the Tenderfoot, having -intelligently anticipated, was inclined to resent as soon as he heard -it. “I don’t know why he should trouble himself with me, but I’ll go -as he asks me to. But whatever happens we can’t possibly get married, -unless----” - -“Unless what?” he demanded sternly. - -“Unless the head of the house gives a full and free consent, and of -course he’ll never do that.” - -“It remains to be seen, doesn’t it?” - -“Oh, no, it’s all so clear. Poor Aunt Harriet has made me realize that. -I never saw anyone so upset as she was yesterday; she nearly broke -down, poor dear. She has made me see that there is so much at stake for -them all, that it simply becomes one’s duty not to go on.” - -“Rubbish! Rubbish! Rubbish!” The Tenderfoot suddenly became -tempestuous. “Mere parochialism, I assure you. I’ve been back six -months, and every day it strikes me more and more what a lot we’ve -got to learn. Our so-called social fabric is mainly bunkum. Half the -prejudice in these islands is a mere cloak for damnable incompetence. -Forgive my saying just what is in my mind, but this flunkeyism of -ours--try to keep the daggers out of your eyes, my charmer!--fairly -gets one all the time. In one form or another one’s always up against -it.” - -“It isn’t flunkeyism at all.” The air of outrage was nothing less than -adorable. - -“Let me finish----” - -“Under protest!” Her face was aglow with the light of battle. - -“It’s perfectly absurd to take a mere pompous stunt like Bridport House -at its own valuation.” - -“I won’t have you vulgar--I won’t allow you to be vulgar!” - -“Be it so, Miss Prim--but I don’t apologize. One’s uncles, cousins, -aunts, they are all alike, whether they are yours or mine. They -simply grovel before material greatness--the greatness that comes of -money--that begins and ends with money.” - -“Don’t be rude, sir!” The stamp of a particularly smart riding boot, -and a flash of angry eyes were as barbs to this fiat. - -“They are all so set on things that don’t matter a bit, that they lose -sight altogether of the one thing that is really important.” - -“Pray, what is that?” The eyes held now a lurking, troubled smile; for -him at that moment, their fascination verged upon the tragic. - -Suddenly both the slender wrists were seized by this forcible thinker. -“Why the time spirit, you charmer. And that just asks one simple -question. Do you love me--or do you not?” - - -IV - -She tried to keep her eyes from his. - -“You can’t hide the truth,” he cried triumphantly. “And if you think -I’m going to lose you for the sake of some stupid piece of prejudice -you don’t know what it means to live five years in God’s own country.” - -She seemed to shrink into herself. “Don’t you see the impossibility of -the whole thing?” she gasped. - -“Frankly, I don’t, or I wouldn’t be such a cad as to badger you. If -you marry me an effete strain is going to be your debtor. Just look -at them--poor devils! Look at the two who died untimely. That’s the -feudal system of marriage working to a logical conclusion. And if -I put it squarely to my kinsman, Albert John, who is by no means a -fool, he’d be the first to admit it. No, it doesn’t matter what your -arguments are, if you override the call of the blood sooner or later -there’s bound to be big trouble.” - -The conviction of the tone, the urgency of the manner were indeed -hard to meet. From the only point of view that really mattered it was -impossible to gainsay him, and she was far too intelligent to try. -Suddenly she broke away from him and in a wretched state of indecision -and unhappiness flung herself into a chair. - -“The whole thing’s as clear as daylight.” Pitilessly he followed up the -advantage he had won. “There’s really no need to state it. And once -more, to come down to bedrock, far better to make an end of Bridport -House and all that it stands for--just what it does stand for I have -not been able to make out--than that it should perpetuate a race of -inbred incompetents who are merely a fixed charge on the community.” - -“Oh, you don’t see--you don’t see!” The words were rather feeble, and -rather wild, but just then they were all she could offer. Yet in spite -of herself, and in spite of the half-promise the intensely unhappy Aunt -Harriet had wrung from her on the previous afternoon, the clear-cut -determination of this young man, his force and his breadth, his -absolute conviction were beginning to tell heavily. - -“You are going to Bridport House to have a word with my kinsman. And if -you’re true blue--and I know you are that--you will make him see honest -daylight. And it ought to be easy, because he has only to look at -you--the finest thing up to now that has found its way on to this old -planet, in order to realize that he’s right up against it.” - -He knew his own mind and she didn’t know hers. Such a man was terribly -hard to resist. - -“He says any morning at twelve. I suggest tomorrow.” - -“You insist?” She was struggling helplessly in meshes of her own -weaving. - -“I insist. And my last word is that if you let the old beast down us, -as of course he’ll try to do, I go back to B. C. and remain a single -man to the end of my days. And I’m not out for that, as long as there -is half a chance of something better. So that’s that.” In the style -of the great lover he laid a hand on each shoulder, looked into the -troubled eyes and kissed her. “And now, if you please, we will witch -the world with noble horsemanship.” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -A BUSY MORNING - - -I - -THE next morning was a busy one for his Grace, and it also marked a -tide in the affairs of Bridport House. Soon after ten the ball opened -with the inauspicious arrival of Lady Wargrave. The head of the Family -had just unfolded his newspaper and put on his spectacles when her -ladyship was announced. - -As the redoubtable Charlotte entered the room, the hard glitter of her -eyes and the forward thrust of a dominant chin were ominous indeed. -Bitter experience made her brother only too keenly alive to these -portents. - -Without any beating about the bush she came at once to the point. - -“What’s this I hear, Johnnie? Sarah tells me you have revoked that -woman’s notice.” - -“Woman!” temporized his Grace. “What woman?” The tone was velvet. - -She glowered at him. - -“There’s only one woman in this household, my friend.” - -The Duke laid down his _Times_ with an air of extremely well assumed -indifference. Were the parish pump and the minor domesticities all she -could find to interest her, while all sorts of Radical infamies played -Old Harry with the British Constitution? - -Lady Wargrave, however, was well inured to this familiar gambit. - -“Come, Johnnie,” she said tartly, “don’t waste time. The matter’s too -serious. Sarah says you have asked Mrs. Sanderson to stay on.” - -“Yes, I have asked her to be good enough to reconsider her decision,” -said his Grace in the slightly forensic manner of the gilded chamber. - -“On what grounds, may one ask?” - -“I merely put it to her”--he now began to choose each word with a -precision that made his sister writhe--“that she was indispensable to -the general comfort and well-being of a man as old and gout-ridden as -myself.” - -“Did you, indeed!” - -It was a facer. And yet it might have been foreseen. Perhaps the -ladies had been a little too elated by their _coup de main_; or, had -they assumed too confidently that at last they had made an end of a -shameless intriguer? - -Yes, a facer. Charlotte could have slain her brother. He had given away -the whole position. It was the act of a traitor. In a voice shaken with -anger she proceeded in no measured terms to tell him what she thought -of him. - -His Grace bore the tirade calmly and with fortitude. He had an instinct -for justice--long a source of inconvenience to its possessor!--which -now insisted that there was something to be said for the enemy point of -view. Still he might not have borne its presentment so patiently had -Charlotte not shown her usual cunning. “She did not speak for herself,” -she was careful to assure him, “but for the sake of the Family as a -whole.” The presence of this woman at Bridport House could no longer be -tolerated. - -To this the Duke said little, but he committed himself to the statement -that Mrs. Sanderson was much maligned and that they all owed a great -deal to her devotion. - -This was too much for Charlotte. She bubbled over. “You must be mad!” -Her voice was like the croak of a raven. - -“Personally,” rejoined his mellifluous Grace, “I am particularly -grateful that she has consented to stay on.” - -“You’re mad, my friend.” - -“So are we all.” His Grace folded the _Times_ imperturbably. - -Lady Wargrave was defeated. She abruptly decided to drop the subject. -However, she did not quit the room until one last bolt had been winged -at her adversary, yet in order to propel it she had to impose an iron -restraint on her feelings. - -“Before I go”--she turned as she got to the door--“there’s something -else I should like to say. Jack’s mother is in town and is staying with -me. Like all the Parington’s she has plenty of sense. She will welcome -the Marjorie arrangement--thinks it quite providential--has told her -son so--and she looks to you as the head of the Family to see that it -doesn’t miscarry.” - -Her brother’s ugly mouth and explosive eyes were not lost upon -Charlotte, but before he could reply she had made a strategic -retirement. Did these futile women expect him to play the matrimonial -agent? The mere suggestion was infuriating, yet well he knew the -extreme urgency of the matter. The whole situation called for great -delicacy. A combination of subtle finesse and iron will was needed if -the institution to which he pinned his faith was not to be shaken to -its foundations. - - -II - -Lady Wargrave had gone but a few minutes when Jack arrived at Bridport -House. He had to inform his kinsman that Mary Lawrence would appear at -twelve o’clock. - -The Duke was in a vile temper. Charlotte had fretted it already; -moreover, the disease from which he suffered had undermined it long -ago; and at the best of times the mere sight of this young Colonial, -with his wild ideas, was about as much as he could bear. However, he -was too astute a man and far too well found in the ways of his world -not to be able to mask his feelings on an occasion of this magnitude. -The fellow was a perpetual source of worry and annoyance, yet so much -was at stake that the Duke, in order to deal with him, summoned all the -bonhomie of a prospective father-in-law. If anything could have bridged -the gulf such tones of honey must surely have done so. - -Jack, however, was in no mood to accept soft speeches, no matter how -flattering to the self-esteem of a raw Colonial! He was determined to -put all to the touch. These people must learn the limit of their power. -And as it was the Tenderfoot’s habit to leave nothing to chance he -began with the bold but simple declaration that nothing would induce -him to give up the finest girl in the country. And he hoped when Mary -appeared at twelve o’clock his kinsman would bear in mind that very -important fact. - -Months ago his Grace had begun to despair of the rôle of the modern -Chesterfield. Even since the young ass had first reported himself at -Bridport House, very sound advice, based on intimate knowledge and -first-hand experience, had been lavished upon him. The best had been -done to correct the republican ideas he had gathered in the western -hemisphere. He lacked nothing in the way of counsel and precept. But -the seed had fallen on unreceptive soil, nay, on ground singularly -barren. From the first the novice had shown precious little inclination -to heed the fount of wisdom. - -The Duke asked the young man to look at the matter in a common sense -way. He would have an extraordinarily difficult place to fill; -therefore, it was his clear duty to trust those who knew the ropes. The -lady of his choice was a case for experts. Special qualities, inherited -aptitudes were needed in the wife he married! Surely he must realize -that? - -The Tenderfoot said bluntly that he did and that Mary Lawrence had them. - -His Grace managed to hold a growing impatience in check. But the answer -of the novice had revealed such a confusion of ideas that it was hard -to treat it seriously. - -“Unless a woman has been born to the thing and bred up in it, how can -she hope to be equal to the task?” - -“Plenty of ’em are,” said the Tenderfoot. “Anyhow they seem to make a -pretty good bluff at it.” - -His Grace shook a somber head. - -“You can’t deny that the Upper Crust is always being recruited from the -people underneath.” - -“Immensely to the detriment of the Constitution,” said his Grace -forensically. - -“It won’t be so in this case,” said the Tenderfoot. “Any family is -devilish lucky that persuades Mary Lawrence to enter it. She’s a very -exceptional girl. And when you see her, sir, I’m sure you’ll say so.” - -“A young woman of ability, no doubt.” The Duke was growing irritated -beyond measure, yet he was determined to give no hint of his frame of -mind. “These--these bohemians always are. But if you’ll allow me to say -so, the mere fact that she is ready to undertake responsibilities of -which she can know nothing proves the nature of her limitations.” - -The hit was so palpable that Jack felt bound to counter it as well as -he could. But his eagerness to do so led him into a tragic blunder. -“That’s where you do her an injustice,” he said, not giving himself -time to weigh his words. “She didn’t know that she might have to be a -duchess when she promised to marry me.” - -The folly of such a speech was apparent to the young man almost before -it was uttered. A sudden heightening of a concentrated gaze made him -curse his own damnable impetuosity. He saw at once that the admission -would be used against him; moreover, an intense desire that Mary should -have fair play led him into further pitfalls. “The odd thing is,” he -said in his blunderer’s way, “that she happens to see things here at -the angle at which you see them, sir. At least, I always tell her so.” - -His kinsman smiled. “That gives us hope at any rate.” And he even -showed a glint of cheerfulness. - -The Tenderfoot had a desire to bite off his tongue. He felt himself -floundering deeper and deeper into a morass. A sickening sensation -crept upon him that he had put himself at the mercy of this crafty old -Jesuit. - -“Now, sir, don’t go taking an unfair advantage of anything I may -have told you.” The sheer impotence of such a speech served only to -emphasize his tragic folly. - -By now there was a sinister light in the eyes of his Grace. The unlucky -Tenderfoot could hardly stifle a groan of vexation. Only a born idiot -would have taken pains to put such a weapon in the hands of the enemy! - -Overcome by a sudden hopeless anger the young man rose from his chair -and fled the room. His course was not stayed until he had passed -headlong down the white marble staircase and out of doors into a golden -morning of July. For the next two hours he ranged the Park grass. It -was the only means he had of working off an irritation and self-disgust -that were almost unbearable. - - -III - -Youth and inexperience might have put a weapon into the hand of his -Grace, yet when the clock on the chimneypiece struck twelve he was in -a very evil mood. The task before him was not at all to his taste; and -the more he considered it the less he liked the part he had now to play. - -From various sources he had heard enough of the girl to stimulate his -curiosity. Apart from a lover’s hyperbole, of which he took no account -whatever, impartial observers, viewing her from afar, had commented -upon her; moreover, there was the extremely piquant nature of her -antecedents. She was a niece of the faithful Sanderson, she was also -the daughter of a police constable. - -The Duke was apt to plume himself that his instinct for diplomacy -amounted to second nature. But, he ruefully reflected, his powers in -this direction were likely to be tested to the full. His task seemed -to bristle with difficulties. Bridport House was no place for a young -woman of this kind, but it was not going to be an easy matter to tell -her that in just so many words. The best he had to hope for was that -she would prove a person of common sense. - -When at five minutes past the hour Miss Lawrence was announced, for one -reason or another, the Duke was in a state of inconvenient curiosity. -And as if the mere circumstances of the case did not themselves -suffice, a chain of odd and queer reflections chose to assail his mind -at the very moment of her appearance. - -It was terribly inconvenient for his Grace to rise from his chair, -mainly for the reason that one swollen, snowbooted foot reclined -at ease on another. But with an effort that wrung him with pain he -contrived to stand up. - -“Please don’t move,” said a voice deep, clear, and musical, while he -was still in the act of rising. “Oh, don’t--please!” - -But without making any immediate reply the Duke poised himself as well -as he could on one foot, more or less in the manner of an emu, and -bowed rather grimly. The dignity of the whole proceeding was perhaps -slightly over-emphasized, it was almost as if he intended to overawe -his visitor with the note of the grand seigneur. - -Whether this was the case or not the bow was returned; and slight as it -was, it had a dignity that matched his own. Also it was touched ever -so gently with humor. A pair of gravely-searching eyes met the hooded, -serious, half-ironical orbs of his Grace. - -“Nice of you to come and see an invalid,” he said slowly, very slowly, -with a good deal of manner. - -“A great pleasure,” she smiled from the topmost inch of her remarkable -height. - -While these brief, and on his part decidedly painful maneuvers had -been going on, the man of the world had been busily seeking something -of which so far he had not been able to find a trace. In manner and -bearing there was not a flaw. - -Already the expert’s eye had been struck by a look of distinction -that was extraordinary. She was undoubtedly handsome, nay, more than -handsome; she had the subtle look of race which gives to beauty a -_cachet_, a quality of permanence. Her height was beyond the common, -but every line of the long, slim frame was a thing of elegance, of -molded delicacy. She was perhaps a shade too thin, but it gave her an -indefinable style which charmed, in spite of himself, this shrewd, -instructed observer. Then her dress and her hat, her neat gloves and -boots, although they were models of reticence, were all touched by a -subtle air of fashion which seemed somehow to reflect their wearer. - -The “Chorus Girl” was in the nature of a surprise. The Duke indicated -a chair, on the edge of which she perched, straight as a willow, her -chin held steadily, her amused eyes veiled with a becoming gravity. -As the Duke painfully reseated himself he felt a cool scrutiny upon -him. And that very quality of coolness was a little provocative. In -the circumstances of the case it had hardly a right to be there. -To himself it was most proper, but in this young woman, a police -constable’s daughter, who earned her living in the theater, a little -embarrassment of some kind would have been an added grace. If anything -however she had more composure than he; and in spite of the charm and -the power of a personality that was vivid yet clear-cut, he could not -help resenting the fact just a little. - -When at last he had slowly resettled himself on his two chairs he -turned eyes of ironical power full upon her. Yes, she was amazingly -handsome, and she reminded him strangely of a face he had seen. “I -wonder if you know why I have asked you to be so kind as to come here,” -were the first words he spoke. And he seemed to weigh each one very -carefully before he uttered it. - -“I think I do, at least I think I may guess.” The note of absolute -frankness was so much more than he had a right to look for that it -pleased him more than it need have done. - -“Well?” he said, with a gentleness in his voice of which he was not -aware. - -“I’m afraid I’ve been causing a lot of trouble.” The tone of regret -was so perfectly sincere that it threw him off his guard. He had not -expected this, nay, he had looked for something totally different. The -girl was a lady, no matter what her private circumstances might be, and -with a sudden deep annoyance he felt that it was going to be supremely -difficult to say in just so many words what he had to say. - -To his relief, however, she seemed with the _flair_ of her sex at once -to divine his difficulty. This splendid-looking old man, every inch -of whom was grand seigneur, poor old snowboot included! was already -asking mutely for her help in a situation that she knew he must -dislike intensely. In his odd silence, in the defensive arrogance of -his manner there was appeal to her own fineness. She could not help -feeling an instinctive sympathy with this old grandee, who at the very -outset was finding himself unequal to the task imposed upon him by the -circumstances of the case. - -They entered on a long pause, and it was left to her to break it. - -“I didn’t know when I promised to marry Jack that he would be the next -Duke of Bridport,” she said very slowly at last. - -The simple speech was intended to help him, a fact of which he was well -aware. And with a sense of acute annoyance he felt a latent chivalry -begin to stir him; it was a chord that she, of all people, had no right -to touch. - -“Didn’t you?” he said; and in the grip of this new emotion it would -have been not unpleasant to add “My dear.” - -“Of course I’m much to blame,” she went on, encouraged by his tone. “I -realize that one ought to have made inquiries.” - -He was clearly puzzled. From under heavily knitted brows his keen eyes -peered at her. “But why?” An instinct for fair play framed the question -on her behalf. - -A note of pain entered the charming voice. “Oh, one ought,” she said. -“It was one’s duty to know who and what he was and all about him.” - -“Forgive me if I don’t altogether agree.” In spite of himself he was -being conquered by this largeness and magnanimity. So fully was he -prepared for something else that he was now rather at a loss. “In any -case,” he said, “the fault hardly seems to be yours.” - -“It is kind of you to say that.” A pair of wide eyes, long-lashed and -luminous, which seemed oddly familiar, raked him with a wonderful -candor. “But I seem to be giving enormous trouble to others--trouble it -would have been easy to spare them.” - -Again his Grace dissented. Surprise was growing, along with that other, -that even more inconvenient emotion which was now driving him hard. - -“Don’t overlook your own side of the case,” he was constrained to say. - -“Oh, yes, there’s that--but one doesn’t like to insist on it.” - -“Why not?” - -“The other is so much more important.” - -She felt his deep eyes searching hers, but except a little veiled -amusement, they had nothing to conceal. - -“I am by no means sure that it is.” To his own clear annoyance, the -fatal instinct for justice began to take a hand in his overthrow. “As -the matter has been represented to me there is no doubt, if you took it -to a court of law, that you would get substantial damages.” - -“As if one could!” She suddenly crimsoned. - -“If I have hurt you in any way, I beg your pardon,” he said at once -with a simple humility for which she honored him. “After all, if you -decide not to marry my relation you give up a position which most -people allow to be exceptional.” - -“Yes--but if one has never aspired to it!” - -He grew more puzzled. - -“Can you afford to be so fastidious?--if you don’t think the question -impertinent?” - -“I have my living to earn,” she said very simply, “but of course I -don’t want that to enter into the case.” - -“Naturally. Of course. Let me put another question--if it is not -impertinent?” The eyes of the Duke had now a grave amusement, but they -had also something else. “I suppose you care a good deal for this young -man?” - -She simply stared at him in a kind of bewilderment. - -Such an answer, unexpectedly swift, nobly complete, seemed to -disconcert him a little. - -“And--and without a word you give him up for the sake of other people?” - -“Yes--if they insist upon it.” - -“If they insist upon it!” He shook his head at her in rather uneasy -surprise. - -“I have told Jack that I cannot marry him unless he has your full -consent.” - -Again the wide gray eyes looked out fearlessly upon the rather -bewildered gentleman. They could hardly refrain from a smile at his -growing perplexity. But there was something other than perplexity -in his tone when at last he said, “You know of course that I cannot -possibly give it.” - -“Of course not.” - -[Illustration: “You give up your young man--simply because of that?”] - -The unhesitating reply seemed to increase his surprise. This girl was -taking him into deeper places than he had ever been in before. He -shook his head at her in a whimsical fashion which she thought quite -charming. “It hardly does, you know, to be too bright and good for -human nature’s daily food,” he said with a softness in his deep voice, -which was enchanting. - -“Oh, I’m very far from being that.” She smiled and shook her head. “I -won’t own that I’m as bad as all that--at least I hope I’m not.” - -“But if you insist on being so uncommonly self-sacrificing, you’re in -danger, aren’t you?” - -“One can’t call it self-sacrifice altogether.” - -“Afraid of being bored, eh?” - -“I could never be bored with Jack,” she said gravely. “But I don’t see -why one should pat oneself on the back for trying to live up to one’s -principles.” - -“Principles! May I ask what principles are involved in a case of this -kind?” - -“‘Do unto others as you would be done by.’ It’s rather priggish, I -admit, but it’s a splendid motto, if only one is equal to it. As a rule -it is much too much for me, but in this case I want to do my best to -live up to it.” - -“There you go again.” The old man shook an amused finger at her. “Why -it’s altruism, there’s no other word for it.” - -“It’s common sense--if one is able to think through to it.” - -“And that is why,” he said, with almost the air of a father, “you give -up your young man--simply because of that?” - -She nodded. But her smile was rather drawn. - -“Tell me, Miss Lawrence”--the curiosity of his Grace was mounting to a -pitch that enabled him to match her frankness with his own--“why are -you so sure that you will be unacceptable here?” - -“It stands to reason, I’m afraid. If I lived at Bridport House and the -future head of the Family married the housekeeper’s niece, I should be -bound to look on it as a perfectly hopeless arrangement.” - -He honored this candor. Choosing his words with great delicacy, he -could but pay homage to such clear-sighted honesty. “I only hope you -will not blame us too much,” he said finally, with an odd change of -voice. - -“I don’t blame you at all. You are as you are. If I lived here I am -sure those would be my feelings.” - -The old man was touched by this generosity. Lest he should overrate it, -however, she added quickly with a flash of pride, “Besides, I should -simply hate to go where I was not wanted.” - -Patrician to the bone, he admired that, too. Every inch of her rang -true. Somehow it had become terribly difficult to treat her in the -only way the circumstances permitted. But no matter what his private -feelings, he must hold them in check. - -“Well, I think, Miss Lawrence,” he said, with a return to the dryness -of the man of the world, “you ought to congratulate yourself that you -don’t live here.” But suddenly his voice trailed off. “You would not -be half so fine as you are”--after all, he couldn’t conceal that a -deeply-stirred old man was speaking--“had you been born and bred in a -hot-house.” - -She flushed at the unexpected words. Quite suddenly her eyes brimmed -with tears. - -“If I have said anything that wounds I humbly apologize,” he said, with -a gentleness that to her was adorable. - -“Oh, no! It is only that I had not expected to have such a compliment -paid me.” - -“Well, it’s a sincere one.” As he looked at her strange thoughts came -into his mind; his voice began to shake in a queer way. “And it is -paid you by an old man who is not very wise and not very happy.” As -he continued to look at her his voice underwent further surprising -changes. “I wish we could have had you with us. There is not one of us -here fit to tie your shoe-lace, my dear.” - -Such a speech gave pain rather than pleasure. She saw him a feudal -chieftain, the head of a sacred order. Was it quite fit and proper that -he should speak in that way to the humblest of his vassals? She would -never be able to forget his words, but in that room, with the spirit of -place enfolding her like some exquisite garment, she could almost have -wished that they had not been uttered. - -Suddenly she rose to go. As he regarded her in all the salient -perfection of mind and mansion, it seemed too bitterly ironical that -he should bar the door against her. Why were they not on their knees -thanking heaven for such a creature! - -“You must forgive us, even if Fate is not likely to,” he said, thinking -aloud. - -“Please don’t let us look at it in that way,” was the quick rejoinder. -“We all have our places in the world. And, after all, one ought to -remember that it is very much easier to be Mary Lawrence than to be -Duchess of Bridport.” - -The old man shook his head dolefully, and then, in spite of her earnest -prayer that he should stay as he was, he rose with a great effort to -say good-by. The deeply-lined face was a complex of many emotions as -he did so. - -In the very act of taking leave, her eyes, magnetized by the room -itself, strayed round it almost wistfully. Somehow it meant so much -that they hardly knew how to tear themselves away. Involuntarily the -Duke’s eyes followed hers to a masterpiece among masterpieces on -the farther wall. He could trace all that was in her mind, and the -knowledge seemed to increase his pain and his perplexity. - -“There’s something wonderful in this room,” she said, half to herself. -“Something one can’t put into words. It’s like nothing else. I suppose -it’s a kind of harmony.” - -The Duke didn’t speak, but slowly brought back his eyes to look at her. -His favorite room held treasures of many kinds, yet as he well knew -he was wantonly casting away a gem rarer than any in his collection. -His eyes were upon a noble profile instinct with the dignity of an old -race. Here was artistry surer, even more exquisite than Corot’s. He -could not repress a sigh of vexation. - -Unwilling to part with her, he still detained her even when she had -turned to go. “One moment, Miss Lawrence,” he said. “Do these things -speak to you?” Near his elbow was a wonderful cabinet of Chinese -lacquer which housed a collection of old French snuffboxes. He opened -it for her inspection, and with a little air of connoisseurship she -gazed at the rarities within. - -“They _are_ lovely,” she said eagerly. - -“Honor me by choosing one as a token of my gratitude.” - -She hesitated to take him at his word, but he was so much in earnest -that it would have seemed unkind to refuse. - -“May I choose any one of them?” - -“Please. And I hope you will do me the honor of choosing the best.” - -Put on her mettle she brought instinct rather than knowledge to bear on -a fine collection, and chose a charming Louis Quinze. - -“You have a _flair_,” said the Duke, laughing. “That is the one. I am -so glad you found it. I should not like you to have less than the best. -Good-by!” Again he took her hand and his voice had a father’s affection -in it. Then he pressed the bell, opened the door, and ushered her into -the care of a servant with an air of solicitude which she felt to be -quite extraordinary. As he did so he apologized with a humility that -seemed almost excessive for his inability to accompany her downstairs. - - -IV - -As soon as the girl had gone, the Duke returned painfully to his -chair. He was now the prey of very odd sensations, and they began to -crystallize at once into emotion as deep as any he had ever felt. -Something had happened at this interview which left him now with a -feeling of numb surprise. The entrance of this girl into that room had -brought something into his life, her going away had taken something -out of it. Almost in the act of meeting a subtle bond had seemed to -arise between them. It was as if each had a sixth sense in regard to -the other. Their minds had marched so perfectly together that it was -hard to realize that this was the first time they had met. This rare -creature had touched cords which had long been forgotten, even had -they been known to exist, in the slightly dehumanized thing he called -himself. - -Shaken as he had never been in his life, his mind was held by the -thought of her long after she had gone. Mystified, disconcerted, -rather forlorn, a harrowing idea was beginning to torment him. At -last he could bear it no longer. Rising from his chair with a stifled -impatience, he made his way out of the room leaning heavily upon his -stick. He went along the corridor as far as the head of the central -staircase. Here he stood a long while in contemplation of a large, -rather florid picture by Lawrence. The subject was a young woman of -distinguished beauty, a portrait of his famous grandmother, the wife -of Bridport’s second duke. Apart from her appearance, which had been -greatly celebrated, she had had a reputation for wit and charm; her -memoirs of the ’Thirties had long taken rank as a classic; and no -annals of the time were complete without the mention of her name. - -The prey of some very unhappy thoughts, the Duke stood long immersed in -the picture before him. The resemblance he sought to trace had grown so -plain that it provoked a shiver. The line of the cheek, the shape of -the eyes, the curve of the chin, the poise of the head on the long and -slender throat were identical with the living replica he had just seen. - -At last he returned to his room and rang the bell. To the servant who -answered it, he said: “Ask Mrs. Sanderson to come to me.” - -The summons was promptly obeyed. But as Harriet came into the room she -bore a small tray containing a wine-glass, a teaspoon, and a bottle of -medicine. At the sight of these the Duke made a grimace like a petulant -child. - -“I am sure the new medicine does you a great deal of good.” The tone -was quite maternal in its tenderness. - -“You think so?” The words were dubious; all the same her voice and look -seemed to have an odd power of reassurance. - -“Oh, yes, I think there can be no doubt of it.” She measured the dose -gravely. - -“Well, I take your word, I take your word.” And he drank the bitter -draught. - -She put back the glass on the tray, but as she was about to leave the -room she was abruptly detained. “Don’t go,” he said. “Sit and let us -talk a little.” - -She sat down. - -“Did you know,” he said, and the unexpectedness of the words threw her -off her guard, “that I have just had a visit from--from your niece?” - -“Mary!” She clutched her dress. “Mary--here!” A sudden tide of crimson -flowed in the startled face. But the next instant it had grown white. -“No, I didn’t know,” she said. And then, her soul in her eyes, she -waited for his next words. - -There was one stifling moment of silence, then he said: “Of course you -know what is in my mind?” - -She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. - -While he searched his memory silence came again, and now it had the -power to hurt them both. “Haven’t you always led me to believe,” he -said in a voice of curious intensity, “that she was a nurse in a -hospital?” - -Harriet did not reply at once. But at last she said, “Yes, I have -always wanted you to think so.” - -He looked at her white face, and suddenly checked the words that rose -to his tongue. Whatever those may have been, there was an immense -solicitude in his manner when he spoke again. “It is not for me,” he -said, “to question anything you may have said, or anything you may have -done.” - -“I did everything I could to carry out your wishes.” Her voice trembled -painfully. “And I--I----” - -“And you didn’t like to tell me,” he said gently. - -“Yes. I couldn’t bear to tell you that she had insisted on choosing the -life of all others you would have the least desired for her.” - -“Don’t think that I complain,” he said. “I know you must have had a -good reason. You have always been very considerate. But it looks as if -the stars in their courses have managed to play a scurvy trick.” - -“That they have!” Once more the swift color flowed over a fine face. - -Suddenly she pressed her fingers to her eyelids to repress the quick -tears. - -“Never mind,” he said. “The gods have been a little too much for us, -but things might have been worse.” - -Tearfully she agreed. - -“The other day when I talked with that excellent fellow, your -brother-in-law, it didn’t occur to me who this girl really was. I don’t -think I was ever told that she had been adopted by your family.” - -“No,” said Harriet, very simply. - -“Do your friends know the truth of the matter?” - -“I don’t think they have a suspicion--not of the real truth,” she said -slowly. - -“Has anyone?” - -“Not a soul that I know of.” - -“The girl herself, is she also in ignorance?” - -“She knows, I believe, that she is only the adopted child of my sister -and her husband, but I don’t think she has gone at all deeply into the -matter.” - -“Tell me this”--the mere effort of speech seemed to cost him infinite -pain--“do you think there is a means open to anyone of learning the -truth at this time of day?” - -“My brother-in-law knew from the first that the child was mine, but I -feel sure the real truth can never come out now.” - -Impassive as he was, a shade of evident relief came into his face. -But the look of strain in his eyes deepened to actual pain as he -said, “No doubt we ought to be glad that it is so. At the same time, -I think you’ll agree, that we have a duty to face which may prove -extraordinarily difficult.” - -Harriet did not speak, but suddenly she bent her head in a quivering -assent. - -“You see,” he said slowly, “we can no longer burke the fact that -something is due to the girl herself.” - -Harriet’s eyes suddenly filled with an intensity of suffering he could -not bear to look at. - -“You know the position, of course?” he said gently, after a pause. - -“I know she has promised to marry Mr. Dinneford.” - -“But only if I give my consent.” - -“I am sure that is right.” A note of relief came into her tone. “She -has done exactly as one could have wished.” - -“If one could only see the thing as clearly as you do!” he said with a -reluctant shake of the head. “At any rate let us try to be as just as -the circumstances will allow us to be.” - -“Can we hope to do justice and not hurt other people?” - -“I’m afraid that’s impossible, as things are. But for a moment let us -try to consider the whole matter from her point of view. Perhaps you’ll -allow me to say at once that the course you insisted on taking seems -to have justified itself completely. She is a girl to be proud of; and -she appears to be living a happy and useful life. One sees now how wise -it was not to take half-measures. She has been allowed to fight her -own battle with the gifts of the good God, and the result does your -foresight the highest credit.” - -The judicial words, very simply uttered, brought a flood of color to -the pale cheeks. But listening with bent head, she did not look up, nor -did she say a word in reply. - -“The heroic method has proved to be the right one, but I think now -we have to be careful not to take any unfair advantage of that fact. -It’s a terribly difficult case, but as far as we can we ought not to -overlook what is due to the girl herself.” - -“But the others!” said Harriet with fear in her eyes. - -“Yes, a terribly difficult situation.” The Duke sighed. “But for the -moment let us try to see the matter simply as it affects her. She has -been made to suffer a grievous injustice so that others might benefit. -The question is, must she still be made to sacrifice herself?” - -Harriet had no answer to give. The long silence which followed was -almost unendurable in its intensity. - -“Well?” he said at last, as he looked at her white face. - -She shook her head mutely, unable to speak, unable to meet his eyes. -Tears crept again along her eyelids. - -“You wish me to decide?” - -“Yes,” she said at last. - -He looked at her now with the light of pity in his face. Not at -once did he speak, and when he did it was with a clear, a too-clear -perception of the impotence of his words. - -“The truth is,” he said, “the problem is beyond me.” - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -AN INTERLUDE - - -I - -As Mary made her way from Bridport House across the Park, in the -direction of Broad Place and luncheon, it came suddenly upon her -that she was in a state of the most abject misery she had ever been -in. It was a gorgeous midday of July, but the world had ceased to be -habitable. She had come up against a blank wall. At that moment there -was nothing in life to make it worth while. - -In the ordeal she had just passed through a fierce pride had forbade -her to show one glimpse of her real feelings. She had carried off the -whole scene with almost an air of comedy, for she was determined that -“those people” should not realize what wounds it was in their power to -deal. But Dame Nature, now that she had the high-mettled creature to -herself, was having something to say to her on the matter. A price was -being exacted for these heroics and for this stoicism. - -The Duke had left an impression of fine chivalry on a perceptive mind, -but in spite of that, now they were no longer face to face, her deepest -feeling was an angry resentment. Life was not playing fair. In the -course of a strenuous three and twenty years she had rubbed shoulders -with all sorts of men and women, but in spite of an honest catholicity -of outlook, she had come to the conclusion already that there was only -one kind for which she had any real use. It was not a question of -loaves and fishes, or a puerile snobbishness; it was simply that one -of the deepest instincts she had, the sense of the artist, demanded a -setting. - -Walking along, blind to everything but the misery of this reaction, -she was suddenly brought up short, thrown as it were against the -world in its concrete reality, by the knowledge that a pair of eyes -was devouring her. Cutting across her path at an acute angle as he -converged upon her from the direction of Kensington Gardens was a man -wholly absorbed in the occupation of looking at her. With a start she -awoke to the force of his gaze; her subconscious perception of it was -so strong that it even aroused a tacit hostility. - -Who was this large, lean, top-hatted creature striding towards her in a -pair of aggressively checked trousers? Where had she seen that freckled -face, those bold eyes, those prognathous jaws? As he came on he caught -her gaze and fixed it; but she dropped her eyes at once, adroitly -giving him only the line of her cheek to look at. Whoever he was, he -was not a gentleman! - -In the next moment, however, she had begun to realize that he was -outside and beyond any trite symbol of that kind. He was less a man -than a natural force; moreover, as soon as he had passed her, he -stopped abruptly and turned round to follow her with his eyes. She did -not need to turn round herself to verify her sense of the act, even had -personal dignity not intervened to prevent her. - -She felt annoyed. Again she asked herself who he could be. When and -where had she seen him? And then a light broke. It may have been the -checked trousers, it may have been the prognathous jaws, but her mind -was suddenly flung back upon that recent visit to Beaconsfield Villas, -and a certain unforgettable scene. This slightly fantastic figure was -no less a person than Lady Muriel’s fiancé, the new Home Secretary. - - -II - -Crossing to Broad Place she could not check a laugh. Wounded, angry, -humiliated by the pressure of a recent event, there still lurked in her -a true appreciation of the human comedy. What a pill for Bridport House -to have to swallow! It was poetic justice that the pride which strained -at a gnat so harmless as herself should have to gulp a real live camel -in the person of the Right Honorable Gentleman. - -But the laugh, after all, was hollow. Tears of vexation leaped to her -eyes. And they owed more to the perception of her own inadequacy in -this smarting hour than to the act of Fate. “Wretch that I am!” She was -ready to chasten herself with scorpions as she crossed the familiar -path into Albert Gate. - -Within a very few yards were the loyal, warm-hearted friends of her -own orbit. And there, alas! was the rub. Her own orbit could not -satisfy her now. She craved something that all their kindness, their -cheerfulness, their frank affection could not give. “Just common or -garden snobbishness, my dear, that’s the nature of your complaint,” -whispered a monitor within. “You are no better than anyone else when -you are invited to call on a duke in Mount Street.” - -That might be true, or it might not, but sore and rebellious as she -was, she was strongly inclined to dispute the verdict. After all, her -feeling went infinitely deeper. It was futile, however, to analyze it -now. This was not the place nor was there present opportunity. She -glanced at the watch on her wrist. It was one o’clock. - -The watch on her wrist was as hostile as everything else in her -little world just now. Even one o’clock had a sharp sting of its own. -“Don’t be late for lunch,” had been Milly’s parting words. “Charley -Cheesewright is coming. And he’s dying to meet you.” - -She managed to navigate the vortex of Knightsbridge without knowing -that she did so; and then, all at once, she realized that she was -within twenty yards of Victoria Mansions, and that a rather overdressed -young man was a few yards ahead. - -With a feeling akin to nausea she pulled up in time to watch this -short, squat figure disappear within the precincts of Number Five. For -a reason she couldn’t explain she was quite sure that this was none -other than Mr. Charles Cheesewright. She didn’t know him; if a back -view meant anything she had no wish to know him; certainly she had no -desire to make his acquaintance going up in the lift. - -She hung back a discreet three minutes on the pavement of Broad Place -before daring to enter the vestibule of Number Five, Victoria Mansions. -By then the coast was clear; Mr. Charles Cheesewright, apparently, had -gone up in the Otis elevator. And she stood on the mat, drawn and -tense, a figure of tragedy, waiting for the Otis elevator to come down -again. - - -III - -At last the Otis elevator came down and she went up in it. And then -confronted by the door of the flat, she peered through the glass panel -to make sure that Mr. Charles Cheesewright was not standing the other -side of it; then she opened it with a furtive key, slipped in, and -stole past the half-open door of the tiny drawing-room through which -came the penetrating accents of Mrs. Wren attuned to the reception of -“company.” - -Once in her own room her first act was to look in the glass with a -lurking sense of horror; the second was to decide, which she instantly -did, that it would be quite impossible to meet Mr. Cheesewright, and -that she didn’t need any luncheon. - -By the time she had taken off her hat and made herself a little more -presentable, both these decisions had grown immutable. She could not -meet Mr. Cheesewright, she did _not_ want any luncheon. All she needed -was complete solitude, and perhaps a cigarette. But all too soon was -she ravished of even these modest requirements. Milly burst suddenly -into the room. - -“Twenty past one!” she cried reproachfully. “I didn’t hear you come in. -We are waiting for you.” - -Mary saw that her plan must be given up. If she really meant to forgo a -meal and the honor of Mr. Cheesewright’s acquaintance there would have -to be a satisfactory explanation. But what explanation could she make? -Certainly none that would conceal the truth. And at that moment she -wished almost savagely for it to be concealed. Confronted by a choice -of evils she made a dash at the less. - -“I’m so sorry. I’ll be with you in one minute.” - -Sheer pride forced her tone to a superhuman lightness, verging on -gayety. But there was a formidable member of her sex to deal with. In -spite of that heroic note, Milly was not to be taken in; she looked -at the dissembler with eyes that saw a great deal too much. “I expect -you’ve taken a pretty bad toss, my fine lady,” they seemed to say. - -“I’ll be with you in one minute,” repeated Mary, with burning cheeks -and a beating heart. But Milly continued to stare. Suddenly she laid -impulsive hands on her shoulders and gave her a kiss. - -Mary didn’t like kissing. Her friend’s proneness to the habit always -irritated her secretly; this present indulgence in it brought Mary as -near to active dislike as it would have been possible for her to get. - -Milly went back to the drawing-room seething with an excited curiosity. -Before she could make up her mind to follow Mary stood a long moment in -black despair; and then “biting on the bullet,” as the soldiers say, -she went to join the others. - -“Naughty girl!” was the arch reception of Mrs. Wren. “I’m very cross. -Didn’t you promise not to be late? But if you must call before lunch -on dukes in Park Lane I suppose people like us will have to take the -consequences.” - -Mary would gladly have given a year’s salary for the head of Mrs. Wren -on a charger, but Milly intervened neatly with the presentation of Mr. -Cheesewright, in itself a little masterpiece of quiet humor. - -Princess Bedalia’s reception of Mr. Charles Cheesewright was perhaps -the severest test to which her sterling goodness had been exposed. -Every nerve was on edge. She wanted to slay Mr. Cheesewright, braided -coat, turquoise tie-pin, diamond sleeve links, immaculate coiffure and -all. But for the sake of Milly she dragooned her feelings to the pitch -of bowing quite charmingly. - -Luncheon, after all, was not so bad. Mrs. Wren was frankly at her worst -and most tactless; her one idea was to impress the guest, to let him -see that money was not everything, and that judged by her standards -he was a most ordinary young man. For such a democrat her table talk -was surprisingly full of Debrett. It was all very lacerating, but Mary -continued to play up as well as she knew how. And by the time the meal -was half over the reward of pure unselfishness came to her in the shape -of a quite unexpected liking for Mr. Charles Cheesewright. - -By all the rules of the game, that is, if mere outward appearance went -for anything, Mr. Cheesewright should have been insufferable. But at -close quarters, with curried prawns and chablis before him, and a very -fine girl opposite, he was nothing of the kind. Mrs. Wren had confided -to Mary a week ago, “that she was afraid from what she had heard, that -he was not out of the top drawer.” The statement had been provoked by -an odious comparison with Wrexham, “who,” declared Milly in her most -aboriginal manner, “had, as far as mother was concerned, simply queered -the pitch for everybody.” - -Perhaps in the eyes of Mary it was Mr. Cheesewright’s supreme merit -that, in spite of his clothes, he was modestly content to be his -humble self. In every way he was a very middling young man. But he -knew that he was and, in Mary’s opinion, that somehow saved him from -being something worse. Mrs. Wren was far from agreeing. His face and -form were plebeian, but there was no reason why he should take them -lying down. He was Eton and Cambridge certainly--or was it Harrow and -Oxford?--anyhow an adequate expression of a sound convention; and it -was for that reason no doubt that all through a particularly trying -meal he kept up his end bravely. In fact, he did so well that he earned -the gratitude of the young woman opposite, although he was far from -suspecting that he had done anything of the kind. - -She had begun by counting the minutes and in looking ahead to the -time when she could retire with her wounds. But there was a peculiar -virtue in the meal; at any rate it agreed so well with the natural -constitution of Mr. Charles Cheesewright that he was able to relieve -the tension of the little dining-room without knowing it. He wasn’t -brilliant, certainly, but he talked plainly, sanely, modestly about the -things that mattered; the Brodotsky Venus at the Portman Gallery, the -miserable performance of Harrow, the new play at the Imperial, the sure -defeat of America’s Big Four, Mr. Jarvey’s new novel, the prospect of -the Kaiser lifting the pot at Cowes, and other matters of international -importance, so that by the time coffee and crême-de-menthe had rounded -up the meal, Mary was inclined to feel sorry that it was at an end. - -When a few minutes before three Mr. Cheesewright went his way--to have -a net at Lord’s Cricket Ground--the famous Princess Bedalia felt a pang -of regret. He had played a pretty good innings already, even if he -didn’t seem to know it. And the honest shake of her hand did its best -to tell him so. - - -IV - -As soon as Mr. Cheesewright had gone, Mary prepared to go too. But -before she could retire Milly and her mother were at her. Both had -a pretty shrewd suspicion that she had been making a sorry mess of -things at Bridport House. These ladies, however, were so cunning, that -they did not show their hands at once. To begin with, they exchanged -a glance full of meaning, and then as Mary got up and made for the -door, Mrs. Wren commanded her to sit down again and tell them what she -thought of Charley. That was guile. She didn’t in the least want to -know what anyone thought of Charley; besides, it would have been quite -possible for Mary to deliver her verdict even as she stood with the -knob of the door in her hand. - -“I like him--_immensely_!” she said, returning to the sofa in deference -to Mrs. Wren. - -Mother and daughter looked at her searchingly, with eyes that -questioned. - -“I like him--immensely!” she repeated. - -“He’s not the kind of man,” said Mrs. Wren with an air of vexation, “I -should have written home about when I was a girl.” - -“What’s wrong with him?” said Milly, bridling. “Why do you always crab -him, mother?” - -“I--crab him!” Mrs. Wren’s air was the perfection of injured innocence. -“Nothing of the kind. It isn’t his fault he’s not a blue blood--and -if my lord of Wrexham’s form is anything to go by, he may be none the -worse for that.” - -“Yes, of course, as far as you are concerned Wrexham’s the fly in the -ointment,” said Milly with a sudden flutter of anger. - -Mary would have given much to escape, but to have fled with thunder and -forked lightning in the air would have been an act of cowardice, not to -say treachery. - -The truth was Mrs. Wren still had other views for Milly, but up till -now Wrexham had disappointed her. Moreover, both these clear-headed and -extremely practical ladies were inclined to think he would continue to -do so. For one thing he was under the thumb of his family, who were as -hostile as they could be; again Wrexham was a bit of a weakling who -didn’t quite know his own mind. Certainly he had a regard for Milly, -but whether it would enable him to wear a martyr’s crown was very -doubtful. Milly, at any rate, had allowed a second Richmond to enter -the field of her affections, in the shape of Mr. Charles Cheesewright, -the sole inheritor of Cheesewright’s Mixture, a young man of obscure -antecedents but of considerable wealth. So far Mr. Cheesewright had -received small encouragement from Mrs. Wren, and Milly herself had been -very guarded in her attitude; yet it was as plain as could be that -one of the more expensive of the public schools and one of the older -universities had made a little gentleman of Mr. Cheesewright. “But,” -as Milly said, “the truth was Wrexham had simply queered the pitch for -everybody.” - -Mary, as the friend of all parties, including Mr. Cheesewright, who had -unexpectedly found favor in her sight, felt it to be her duty to stay -in the room, so that, if possible, oil might be poured on the troubled -waters. She had sense of acute discomfort, it was true; and it was -not made less by the sure knowledge that the heavy weapons mother and -daughter were using for the benefit of each other would soon be turned -against herself. - -There was not long to wait for this prophecy to be fulfilled. As soon -as the ladies had cut off her retreat, they dropped the academic -subject of Mr. Cheesewright and bluntly demanded to know what was the -matter. It was vain for Mary to try to parry this expected attack. -Her friends, when their feelings were deeply stirred, indulged in a -sledge-hammer style of warfare, against which any ordinary kind of -defense was powerless. - -“Don’t tell me,” said Mrs. Wren, “that you have let them bully you into -giving him up!” - -This was what Milly was wont to call her mother’s “old Sadler’s Wells -touch” with a vengeance. The victim bit her lip sharply, but she -could not prevent the color from rushing to her cheeks and giving her -completely away. - -“Why, of course she has!” cried Milly, looking at her pitilessly. “I -knew she would. I told you, my dear, she was set on doing something -fantastic. And here have I been telling Charley that one day she would -be a duchess.” - -“I call it soppy,” said Mrs. Wren. - -“Downright mental flabbiness,” cried Milly. “It’s the sort of thing a -girl would do in the _Family Herald_.” - -Mary quailed before these taunts. Even if her friends had an -unconventional way of expressing themselves, it did not blind her -to the poignant nature of their emotions. In the tone of mother and -daughter was a note which showed how deeply they were wounded by her -moral weakness--they could consider it nothing else. And the bitterness -of the attack was the measure of their devotion. Mrs. Wren could hardly -restrain her tongue, Milly was at the verge of tears. Such a girl as -Mary Lawrence had no right to wreck two lives for a mere whim. - -“You are nothing but a fool,” said Mrs. Wren. “You’ll never get such a -chance again. I’d like to shake you.” - -Mary had no fight left in her. She sat on the sofa a picture of dismay. -For the first time she saw mother and daughter as they really were, in -all their native crudeness; yet when the worst was said of them they -had a generosity of soul which made them suffer on her account; and -that fact alone seemed to leave her at their mercy. - -“You’ve no right to let them ruin your life and his,” said Milly -pitilessly. - -“One simply can’t go where one isn’t wanted,” said Mary at last with a -face of ashes. - -Mrs. Wren took up the phrase, the first the girl had been able to -utter in her own defense, and flung it back. “Not wanted forsooth! -Who are they that they should pick and choose! A dead charge on the -community--neither more nor less.” - -“No one can’t,” said Mary, tormentedly. “How could one!” - -“Rubbish!” said Mrs. Wren. “You can’t afford to be so proud. From the -way you talk you might be the Queen of England.” - -The girl shook her head. “And it isn’t quite fair that they should have -to put up with me.” - -Those unfortunate words were made to recoil upon her heavily. Both her -assailants were frankly amazed that she should want to look at the -matter from the enemy point of view. To such a mind as Mrs. Wren’s -it could only mean that Bridport House had hypnotized her with the -semblance of place and power. - -“I could shake you,” re-affirmed the good lady. “A girl as first-rate -as you are has no right to be a snob.” - -Somehow that barb was horrible. Nothing wounds like the truth. - -Strong in the conviction that “she had got her” Mrs. Wren proceeded. -“You set as high a value on these people as they set on themselves. -It’s noodles like you who keep them up. What use are they anyway, -except to play the fool with honest folk?” - -“Yes, that’s right,” said Milly with flashing eyes, as she took up the -parable. “Wrexham’s one of the same push. His lot simply won’t look at -me, yet I consider myself the equal of anyone. And I should make a very -good countess.” - -Mary could only gasp. She was rather overcome by this naïveté. - -“So you would, my dear,” said Mrs. Wren. “And one of these days you -will be a countess--if you don’t throw yourself away on Tom, Dick, and -Harry in the meantime.” - -Mary was hard set not to break out in a hysterical laugh. She was in -the depths if ever soul was, yet the sense of humor is immortal and -survives every torment. - -Fate, however, had not yet given the last turn to the screw. - - -V - -At this moment the neat parlormaid came into the room. - -“Mr. Dinneford!” she announced. - -Jack stood a moment on the threshold to gaze at the three occupants. He -was rather like a sailor who fears foul weather and has not the courage -to read the sky. - -“I’m glad you’ve come, young man,” said Mrs. Wren, getting up to -receive him. And she added almost at once, for it was never her way to -beat about the bush, “We are giving her the finest talking to she has -ever had in her life.” - -Jack nearly groaned. The look of the three of them had told him already -that she must have made a fearful hash of things. - -By now the Tenderfoot had risen very high in Mrs. Wren’s favor. -To begin with he would one day be the indubitable sixth Duke of -Bridport--a handicap, no doubt, in the sight of some types of democrat, -but apparently not, in the eyes of Mrs. Wren, an insuperable barrier. -Again, she was a pretty shrewd judge of a man, and this one had passed -all his examinations so far with flying colors. He was absolutely -straightforward, absolutely honorable; moreover, he knew his own -mind--whereby he had a signal advantage over his stable companion, who, -in spite of great merits, was lacking in character. - -“Yes, we are setting her to rights,” said Milly, wrinkling a nose -of charming pugnacity. The face of the culprit was tense and rather -piteous, but Jack’s glance at it was perfectly remorseless. - -“I knew she would,” he groaned. - -“Knew she would what?” demanded Mrs. Wren. - -“Let Uncle Albert down her,” was the prompt rejoinder. - -“That didn’t want much guessing,” said Milly bitterly. - -“Bridport-House-itis! That’s her trouble,” said Mrs. Wren. “And she -seems to have quite a bad form of the disease. I can’t understand -such a girl, I can’t really. To me she’s unnatural. If I found people -‘coming the heavy’ over me, I should just set my back to the wall and -say, ‘Very well, my fine friends, I’m now going to let you see that -Jane Wren is every bit as good as you are.’” - -“So would any other reasonable being.” And that unpremeditated speech -of the Tenderfoot’s would have made Mrs. Wren his friend for life, had -she not become so already. - -“That’s what I call sensible,” said she. “And there’s only one thing -for you to do now, young man, and that is to take her straight away and -marry her.” - -At this point Mary got up from her sofa. But Mrs. Wren held one great -advantage; she had her back to the door. “You don’t leave this room, my -fine lady”--again “the old Sadler’s Wells touch,” and Jack and Milly -could not deny that it was rather superb--“until you realize that we -all think alike in this matter.” - -“Quite so,” said the Tenderfoot, immensely stimulated by this powerful -backing. “Let us try to see the thing as it is. This isn’t a case for -high falutin’ sentiment. Bridport House is steeped in crass idiocy; -all the more reason, I say, that we give it no encouragement.” - -“Quite so,” chimed Mrs. Wren. - -“Quite so,” chimed Milly, who was irresistibly reminded of a recent -command performance of “Money.” - -Mrs. Wren shook a histrionic finger at the luckless Mary, whose eyes -were seeking rather wildly a means of escape. “Don’t speak! Don’t -venture to say a word!” The victim had not shown the least disposition -to do so. “You simply haven’t a leg to stand on, you know.” - -It was a shameful piece of bullying but the victim bore it stoically. -And it did not go on for long. Neither Mrs. Wren nor Milly was exactly -a fool. As soon as they saw that main force was not likely to help -them, and that more harm than good might be done by it, they decided to -leave the whole matter to Jack. They had expressed their own point of -view very fully, they knew that he could be trusted to make the most of -his case; besides, when all was said, he was the person best able to -deal with an entirely vexatious affair. - -Of a sudden, the astute Milly flung a swift glance at her mother and -got up from her chair. And without another word on the subject, this -pair of conspirators dramatically withdrew. - - -VI - -Such an exit from the scene was far more eloquent than words. And its -immediate effect was to plunge Jack and Mary with a haste that was -hardly decent, into what both felt was perilously like a final crisis. -Its very nature was of a sort that a finer diplomacy would have been -careful to avoid. But Jack, baffled and angry, was not in a mood to -temporize; besides, that was never his way. - -The fine shades of emotion were not for him, but he had the perception -to feel that if he remained five minutes longer in that little room -the game might be lost irretrievably. In fact, it seemed to be lost -already. The specter of defeat was hovering round him; nay, it was -embodied in the very atmosphere he breathed. - -Knowing the moment to be full of peril, he determined to force himself -to the greatest delicacy of which he was capable, for this might prove -the final throw. The look in her eyes seemed to tell him that all was -lost, but he would set the thought aside and act as if he were not -aware of it. - -A long and very trying pause lent weight to this decision, and then -at last he said in a tone altogether different from the one he had -recently used, “Tell me, why are you so determined to keep a hardshell -like Uncle Albert on his pedestal?” - -The form of the question provoked a wry little smile. “We poor females -are by nature conservative.” - -“You are that,” he said. “Take you and me. We’ve both seen the world. -And the world has changed me altogether, but I should say it hasn’t -changed you at all.” - -“No; I don’t think it has,” she admitted ruefully, “in the things that -are really important.” - -“Six years ago, before I went West, I saw Bridport House at pretty -much the same angle you see it now. But I suppose if you get lumbering -timber, or living by your wits, or looking for gold in the Yukon, it -mighty soon comes home to you that it is only realities that count. -And the cold truth is that Bridport House simply isn’t a reality at -all.” - -“There I can’t agree with you,” she said with a simple valor he was -bound to admire. “I haven’t seen the Yukon, but I’ve seen Bridport -House and it’s intensely real to me. Somehow the place is quite -wonderful. It works upon one like a charm.” - -“I was a fool to let you go there.” - -“But it only confirms my guesses.” - -“Why, you are as bad as your Aunt Sanderson,” he burst out. “And you -haven’t her excuse. One can understand her point of view, although it’s -very extreme, and absurdly overdone, but yours, if you’ll let me say -so, is merely fanciful. Why you should be absolutely the last person in -the world to be hypnotized by mere rank and pride of place.” - -“It isn’t that at all.” - -“What is it, then?” - -“It’s something I can’t explain, a kind of instinct, I suppose. Please -don’t think I’m overawed by vain shows. But there is such a thing as -tradition, at least there is to me, and every stick and stone of that -house simply glows with it.” - -“Mere sentiment!” - -“Oh, yes--I know--but sentiment’s the thing that rules the world.” - -“Plain, practical common sense rules the world.” - -“I mean the only world worth living in.” - -He could do nothing with her, and the fact was now hurting him -horribly. A man used to his own way, of clear vision, and strong -will, he could not bear the thought of being sidetracked or thwarted. -Besides, her reasoning was demonstrably false. He was growing bitterly -annoyed but, after all, such a solicitude for others only added to her -value. Moreover, here was a nature almost fantastically fine, and for -decency’s sake he must constrain his egotism to respect her scruples. - -But the sense of defeat was hard to bear. Since that morning’s fatal -visit to the Mecca of tradition her will had crystallized. There seemed -little hope of shaking it now. - -“Let me ask one question,” he said tensely. “Do you still care for me?” - -Before she could answer the question her breath came quickly, her color -mounted. And then she said in a low voice, “I do--I always shall.” - -It was no use telling her she was a fool. She was grotesquely in the -wrong, even if she was sublimely in the right. He would like to have -shaken her--and yet how dare he sully her with a point of view which -was purely personal? - -“I expect that old barbarian is laughing finely in his sleeve,” he said -with a sudden descent to another plane. - -“You don’t read him right.” A warm throb of feeling was in her voice. -“He’s quite deep and true--and kind, so kind you would hardly believe. -When I went there this morning I felt I was going to hate him, and yet -I find I can’t.” - -“You are an idealist,” he said. “And you’ve tuned up that old cracked -file to the pitch of your own sackbut and psaltery. He’s not fine in -any way if you see him as I do--but I’m an earthworm, of course. He’s -just a hardshell and an unbeliever, who runs tradition for all it’s -worth, because that means loaves and fishes for him and his.” - -She countered this speech staunchly; it was not worthy of him. And -yet the tone of reproof was so gentle that it gave him new courage. -Besides, he was a born fighter and the mere thought of losing such a -prize was more than he could bear. - -“You can’t go back on your word,” he burst out with sudden defiance. -“You made a promise that you’re bound to keep.” - -The look in her eyes asked for pity. “Oh! I could never go there,” she -shivered, “among all those hostile women.” - -“We will keep a thousand miles away from them.” - -“They have told me I’m not good enough.” - -“Like their damned impertinence!” He flushed with anger. - -“But I promised this morning that I wouldn’t.” - -“You first promised me that you would.” - -Again he had her cornered. It was almost the act of a cad to drive her -so hard, but he was an elemental who had simply to obey the laws of his -being. It seemed madness and damnation to let her go. And yet there -were tears in her eyes which he dare not look at. If he saw them he was -done. - -With a kind of savage joy he felt her weaken a little at the impact of -his will. It was a piece of cruelty for which there was no help, a form -of bullying he could not avoid. - -“The best thing we can do,” he said suddenly, “is to get married -at once and then clear off to Canada. Then we shall be beyond the -jurisdiction of Bridport House.” - -“That old man would never forgive me,” was the simple reply. “It would -make the whole thing quite hopeless for everybody.” - -He checked the words at the tip of his tongue. She had no right to play -for the other side, but there was something in her bearing which shamed -him to silence. For the first time he was torn; this immolation of self -might be a deeper wisdom; at least he felt thin and shallow in its -presence. - -“Won’t you help me?” She laid a hand on his. Tears were now running -down her cheeks. - -He caught his breath sharply at the unexpected appeal; it was like the -fixing of a knife. There was no alternative; he saw at once with fatal -clearness that these four little words cut the ground from under his -feet. - -“Of course I will,” he said miserably, “if that is how you really feel -about it.” - -She bowed her head in the moment’s intensity. “Thank you,” she said -softly. - -He could only gasp. Here was the end. - -“We must forget each other,” she said stoically. - -“Or ask the sun and moon to stand still,” he said. “I shall never marry -anyone else.” - -She gave him the honest hand of the good comrade and he took it to his -lips. - -“I shall go back to Canada.” - -“Won’t you stay and help them?” - -“No,” he said, “these stupid people have got on my nerves. Besides, -this city is not big enough to hold us both just now.” - -“I intend to go to Paris and study for the opera.” - -“No,” he said decisively. “This time next week I shall be on my way -back to Vancouver, unless----” - -“Unless----?” - -“Unless Bridport House can be made to forget the Parish Pump in the -meantime. And there’s hardly a chance of that.” - - - - -CHAPTER X - -TIME’S REVENGE - - -I - -HIS Grace had had such a very bad night that he was only just able -to reach his morning-room by the discreet hour of eleven. He was so -exceedingly irritable that even the presence of the _Times_ on the -little table at his elbow was almost too much for him. And barely had -he settled himself in his chair and put on his spectacles when an -acute annoyance with the nature of things was further increased by the -ill-timed appearance of his private secretary, Mr. Gilbert Twalmley. - -Mr. Twalmley so well understood the art of being agreeable, that, of -itself, his appearance was seldom if ever unwelcome; had the fact been -otherwise it is reasonably certain that long ago he would have had to -seek some other sphere of usefulness. And even on this sinister morning -Mr. Twalmley was not the head and front of his own offending; the germ -of unpopularity was in the message that he bore. - -“Sir Dugald Maclean has rung up, sir. He would like to know if you can -see him on a matter of urgent importance.” - -“When?” said the Duke sourly. - -“He will come round at once.” - -The fact was clear that his Grace was not in a mood to receive anyone -just then, least of all Sir Dugald Maclean, who at any time was far -from being _persona gratissima_ at Bridport House. But after a mental -struggle, which if quite short was rather grim, he allowed public -policy to override his private feelings. - -“I suppose I’d better,” he said with something ominously like a groan -of disgust. - - -II - -Even when the decision was taken and Mr. Twalmley had gone to make it -known, the Duke was not quite clear in his mind as to why he should -submit to such an ordeal. Was it really necessary to see this man? -Would any purpose be served by his so doing? - -This morning the Duke was in a mood of vacillation, itself the sequel -to a night of physical and mental torment. Men and events and Nature’s -own self were conspiring against him; the future and the past were -alike in their menace; he could see nothing ahead but a vista of -anxiety. - -Waiting for this man whom he disliked so intensely, he tried at first -to fix his mind on the morning’s news, and failed lamentably. For one -thing the paper itself was a sinister portent of the times. But there -were others, and in the interval of waiting for an unwelcome visitor -his Grace reviewed them gloomily. - -Albert John had lived to see dark days. At heart a time-server and a -cynic, his strongest wish had been to go to the grave in the faith of -his fathers. In the beginning none had realized more clearly than he -that dukes were not as other men. Born to that convenient dogma, or -at least having imbibed it with the milk of infancy, it was in the -very marrow of his bones. But now, it would seem, the Time Spirit had -overtaken the order to which he belonged. - -Twin portents of that fact had hovered all night round his pillow. -First came the business of Jack and the lady of his choice, who -at close quarters had proved to be so much more than his Grace -had bargained for; then there was the minor yet entirely vexing -complication of Muriel and her Berserker of a Radical. - -Compared with the first gigantic issue, the second was a mere sideshow, -which in a happier hour his Grace would have treated with sardonic -contempt. After all, did it greatly matter if Muriel had the ill taste -to prefer an obvious political thruster and _arriviste_ to a state of -single blessedness? The heavens were not likely to fall in either case. -The man was a cad and there was no more to be said, yet even Albert -John was not quite able to maintain the standpoint of High Olympus. -Such a mountebank of a fellow ought not to count, yet when the best had -been said there was something about the brute which rankled horribly. - -Some years before, in a historic speech in the Gilded Chamber, the Duke -had drawn a lurid picture of democracy knocking at the gate. His words -were so nakedly obvious that in a single morning they awoke to fame -throughout a flattered and delighted island. Everybody had known for a -generation that democracy was knocking at the gate, but the true art of -prophecy as a going concern is to predict the event the day after it -happens. - -His Grace of Bridport, in the course of an admired speech, left no -doubt as to his own feeling in the matter. He conceived it to be his -duty to hold the gate as long as possible against the mob. But his -memorable remarks, a little touched, no doubt, with the crudity of one -who spoke seldom, gave opportunity for a thruster in the person of a -rising Scots publicist to convulse the Lower House with his fanciful -portrait of the Great Panjandrum of Bridport House with little round -button on top. - -That had happened some years ago. But the alchemies of time had now -prepared a charming comedy for the initiated. The temerarious Scotsman, -moving from triumph to triumph, had determined to consolidate his -fortunes by marrying the third daughter of the house of Dinneford. - -When Sir Dugald’s decision became known to the Duke, his amazement took -a very caustic turn. He had never forgiven the fellow for so savagely -flaunting him as a trophy at the end of a pole. “_Rien qui blesse comme -la vérité._” It was therefore hard for his Grace to knuckle down to -this adventurer. Besides, had Sir Dugald’s opinions been other than -they were, one of his kidney must not look for a welcome at Bridport -House. - -Democracy was knocking at the gate with a vengeance. Muriel’s affair -had shaken the Family to its base. For some little time past it was -known that she was cultivating breadth. Her coquettings with that -dangerous tendency had affected her diet, her clothes, her reading, as -well as her social and mental outlook. She had formed quite a habit -of emerging from the Times Book Club with all kinds of highbrows in a -strap. She had made odd friendships, she had joined queer movements, -and from time to time she regaled very remarkable people with tea and -cake at Bridport House. - -To all this there could only be one end. First she consulted her -oculist and changed her glasses, and then she fell in love. She was -the first of the Bridport ladies to enter that state; thus she was -less a portent than a phenomenon. Sarah, Blanche, and Marjorie gave -her the cold shoulder, and Aunt Charlotte frowned, but there was no -getting over the sinister fact that Breadth had at last undone her. Sir -Dugald had recently been seen for the first time in one of the smaller -and less uncomfortable drawing-rooms of Bridport House. The Dinneford -ladies seldom read the newspapers, at least the political part of -them, being beyond all things “healthy-minded” women; therefore they -knew little of the facts of his career. Moreover, they were in happy -ignorance of the attack he had launched three years ago upon their -sire. But it cannot be said of Muriel that she was equally innocent. -Evil communications corrupt good manners; Breadth had made a recourse -to politics inevitable. And the slight importance she attached to a -certain incident was, to say the least, unfilial. - -In the cool, appraising eyes of Sarah, Blanche, and Marjorie, the bold -Sir Dugald was set down already as a freak of nature. They were not -used to that sort of person at Bridport House. Unfortunately such an -attitude forbade any just perception of the man himself. His career -was still in the making, and in the view of keen but unsympathetic -observers who had followed it from the start, the hapless Muriel had -been marked down in order that she might advance him in it. Moreover, -up till now, his ambition had never known defeat, particularly when -inflamed by a worthy object. - -According to biographies of the People’s Champion, portrait on cover, -price one shilling net, which flooded the bookstalls of his adopted -country, his life had been a fine expression of the deep spiritual -truth, “God helps those who help themselves.” His career had been truly -remarkable, yet in the opinion of qualified judges it was only just -beginning. In the person of Sir Dugald Maclean, Democracy was knocking -at the gate with a vengeance. Its keepers must be up and doing lest -Demos ravish the citadel within and get clear away with the pictures, -the heirlooms and the gold plate. - -“She must be out of her mind,” declared the Duke at the first -announcement of the grisly tidings. Lady Wargrave went further. “She is -out of her mind,” trumpeted the sage of Hill Street. - -There were alarums and excursions, there was a pretty todo. But Muriel -had grown so Broad that she treated the matter very lightly. The -ruthless Sir Dugald had tied her to the wheel of his car; he was now -determined to lead her to the altar with or without the sanction of his -Grace. - - -III - -All too soon for the Duke’s liking in this hour of fate, Sir Dugald -arrived for his interview. At any time he was a bitter pill for his -Grace to swallow; just now, in the light of present circumstances, it -called for the virtue of a stoic to receive him at all. - -Now these adversaries met again certain ugly memories were in their -minds. But the advantage was with the younger man who could afford to -be secretly amused by the business in hand. A semblance of respect, to -be sure, was in his bearing, but that was no more than homage paid by -worldly wisdom to the spirit of place. Right at the back lay the mind -of the cool calculator, which in certain aspects had an insight almost -devilish into the heart of material man. Well he knew the hostility of -this peevish, brooding invalid. He was in a position to flout it; yet, -after all, the man who now received him would have been rather more -than human had he not hated him like poison. - -Sir Dugald could afford to smile at this figure of impotence; yet the -Duke, in his way, was no mean adversary. Up to a point his mind was -extremely vigorous. The will to prevail against encroachment on the -privileges of his class was still strong. Besides physical suffering -had not yet bereft him of a maliciously nice appreciation of the human -comedy. It may even have been that which now enabled him to receive -“the thruster.” - -As Sir Dugald entered the room he was keenly aware that the eyes of -a satyr were fixed upon him. And the picture of a rather fantastic -helplessness, propped in its chair, was not without its pathos. The old -lion, stricken sore, would have given much to rend the intruder, but he -was in the grip of Fate. - -The success of Sir Dugald had been magical, but luck had played no part -in it, beyond the period of the world’s history and the particular -corner of the globe in which he happened to be born. He had got as far -as he had in a time comparatively short for the simple reason that he -was a man of quite unusual powers. - -No man could have had a truer perception of the conditions among which -he had been cast than Dugald Maclean, no man could have had a stronger -grasp of certain forces, or of the alchemy transmuting them into things -undreamt of; no man could have had a bolder outlook upon the whole -amazing phantasmagoria evolved by the cosmic dust out of the wonders -within itself. The Duke had the cynicism of the materialist; the man -who faced him now had the vision of him who sees too much. - -The Duke, with a great air and a courtesy which was second nature, -begged his visitor to forgive his being as he was. - -Sir Dugald, with a mechanical formula and a mechanical smile, responded -with a ready sympathy. But while their conventional phrases flowed, -each marked the other narrowly, like a pair of strange brigands -colloguing for the first time on the side of a mountain. It was as if -each knew the other for a devil of a fellow, yet not quite such a devil -of a fellow as he judges himself to be. - -Efficiency was the watchword of Maclean. There was no beating about the -bush. He knew what he wanted and had come to see that he got it. In a -cool, aloof, rather detached way he lost no time in putting forward the -demand he had made at a former meeting. - -“But one has been led to infer from your speeches,” said the Duke, -bluntly, “and the facts of your career, that you stand for an order of -things very different from those obtaining here.” - -“Up to a point, yes,” was the ready answer. “But only up to a point. -In order to govern efficiently it is wise to aim at a centralization -of power. The happiest communities are those in which power is in the -hands of the few. Now there is much in the social hierarchy, even as -at present constituted, which deserves to survive the shock of battle -that will soon be upon us. It ought to survive, for it has proved its -worth. And in identifying myself with it I shall be glad when the time -comes to help your people here if only you will help me now.” - -“In a word, you are ready to throw over your friends,” said the Duke -with a narrowing eye. - -“By no means! I have not the least intention of doing that.” - -His Grace was hard to convince; besides the man’s nonchalance incensed -him. “Well, as I have told you already, the only terms on which we -can begin to think of having you here are that you quit your present -stable.” - -“Don’t you think you take a parochial view?” The considered coolness -had the power to infuriate. “Whichever stable one happens to occupy at -the moment is not very material. It is simply a means to an end.” - -“To what end?” - -“The better government of the country--of the Empire, if you prefer it.” - -“You aim at the top?” - -“Undoubtedly. And I think I shall get there.” - -The note of self-confidence was a little too much for his Grace. He -shot out an ugly lower lip and plucked savagely at the small tuft of -hair upon it. “That remains to be seen, my friend.” And he added in a -tone of ice, “When you have got there you can come and ask me again.” - -“But it is going to take time,” Sir Dugald spoke lightly and readily, -not deigning to accept the challenge. “Meanwhile Lady Muriel and I -would like to get married.” - -It seemed, however, that the Duke had made up his mind in the matter -quite definitely. There must be a coat of political whitewash for a -dirty dog before he could hope to receive any kind of official sanction -as a son-in-law. Such in effect was the last word of his Grace; and it -was delivered with a point that was meant to lacerate. - -It did not fail of its effect. Somehow the ducal brand of cynicism was -edged like a razor, and the underlying contempt poisoned the wounds it -dealt. The man who had sprung from the people, who in accordance with -the brutal innuendo of the man of privilege would be only too ready -to throw them over as soon as they had served his turn, was powerless -before it. At this moment, as he was ruefully discovering, place and -power did not hesitate to use loaded dice. - -Sir Dugald was savagely angry. In spite of an iron self-control, the -cold insolence of one who made no secret of the fact that he regarded -the man before him as other clay was hard to bear. A career of success, -consistent and amazing, had given Sir Dugald a pretty arrogance of his -own. And he was a very determined man playing for victory. - - -IV - -It was clear from the Duke’s manner that as far as he was concerned -the interview was at an end. But Sir Dugald had made up his mind to -carry the matter a step farther. He was a bold man, his position was -stronger than his Grace had reason to guess, moreover, a powerful will -had been reënforced by a growing animosity. - -“Before I go,” said Sir Dugald, “there is one last word, and to me it -seems of great importance.” - -The Duke sat silent, a stony eye fixed upon his visitor. - -“First, let me say as one man of the world to another, that your -objection to my marrying Lady Muriel is injudicious.” - -“No doubt--from your point of view. But we won’t go into that.” - -“On the contrary, I think we had better. As I say, it is injudicious. -We have fully made up our minds to marry. You can’t hinder us, you -know--so why make things uncomfortable?” - -“Because I dislike it, sir--I dislike it intensely!” His Grace was -suddenly overwhelmed by his feelings. - -“Do you mind stating the grounds of your objection?” - -“It would be tedious to enumerate them.” - -“Well, I’d like you to realize the advantages of letting things go on -as they are.” - -“There are none so far as one can see at the moment.” - -“We are coming to them now,” said Sir Dugald blandly. “In the first -place, has it occurred to you that I may know the history of Mr. -Dinneford’s fiancée?” - -The Duke stared fixedly at the man before him. “What do you mean?” he -said. - -“Suppose one happens to know her secret?” - -“Her secret!” - -“Her origin and early history.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“Is there really any need to ask the question?” - -The Duke shook his head perplexedly. “I’m afraid I don’t follow you.” - -“Well,” said Sir Dugald coolly, “it happens that you are the one man in -the world who is in a position to answer the question I have ventured -to ask.” - -They looked at each other. A rather deadly silence followed. - -“The question you have ventured to ask.” The Duke repeated the words -slowly, but with a reluctance and a venom he could not conceal. - -“You know perfectly well what I mean.” The tone, direct and cool, was -exasperating. - -“Are you trying to blackmail me?” There was an ugly light in the Duke’s -eyes. - -Sir Dugald laughed. “Why put the matter so crudely?” he said. “I am -merely anxious that justice should be done. You ought to be grateful to -Providence for giving you this opportunity.” - -“Opportunity?” - -“To right the wrong that has been committed.” - -“I don’t understand.” - -“I refer to Miss Lawrence’s parentage.” - -“One fails to see that her parentage is any business of yours or mine.” - -“It is certainly business of yours,” was the sardonic answer; “and -it is going to be mine because I am determined that matters shall -take their present course. Lady Muriel and I intend to marry, and Mr. -Dinneford and Miss Lawrence ought to marry.” - -The Duke gazed at him with an air of blank stupefaction. - -“I invite you to give the matter very careful consideration.” Sir -Dugald had constrained a harsh accent to the point of mellowness. “Let -me say at once that if you don’t withdraw your opposition it is in my -power to make myself rather unpleasant.” - -“Nature has relieved you of any obligation in that matter. You are the -most unpleasant man I have ever had to do with.” - -“Let me outline the position.” The mellifluous note spurred his Grace -to fury. “Mr. Dinneford and Miss Lawrence, Lady Muriel and I are -determined to marry and we must have your consent.” - -“And if I don’t give it?” The tone matched the truculent eyes. - -“I may be tempted to use my knowledge in a way which will be much more -disagreeable than the things you wish to prevent.” - -“Do I understand this to be a threat?” - -Sir Dugald smiled darkly. - -“Very well!” Defiance and resentment rode the Duke very hard. “Use your -knowledge as you like. You are a scoundrel.” - -“A hard name.” Again the Duke was met by a saturnine Scottish smile. -“But my motives are sound.” - -“So are mine.” The Duke’s voice shook with fury. “If you are not -careful I will have you put out of the house.” - -“We are not living in the Middle Ages, you know.” - -“More’s the pity. I’d have found a short way with you then, my friend. -Your wanting to marry Muriel is bad enough, your interference with -Dinneford is an outrage.” - -“In the circumstances I feel it to be my duty to do what I can in an -exceedingly delicate matter.” - -“Self-interest, sir, that’s all your duty amounts to.” But the Duke was -now thoroughly alarmed, and he saw that recrimination was not going to -help him. “Tell me,” he said in a tone more conciliatory than he had -yet used, “exactly on what ground you are standing?” - -“In the first place, there is a very remarkable family likeness.” - -“And you base your allegation upon a mere conjecture of that kind!” -said the Duke scornfully. - -“Upon far more than that, believe me. I have very strong and direct -evidence which at the present moment I prefer not to disclose.” - -The Duke paused at this bold statement. He turned a basilisk’s eye -upon his adversary, but Sir Dugald offered a mask, behind which, as -his Grace well knew, lurked unlimited depth and cunning. One thing was -clear: a man of this kidney was not likely to venture such a _coup_ -without having carefully weighed his resources. In any case there -cannot be smoke unless there is fire. A certain amount of knowledge -must be in the possession of Maclean; the question was how much, and -what use was he prepared to make of it? - -“Do I understand,” said the Duke after a moment of deep thought, “that -you have spoken of this matter to Mr. Dinneford?” - -“I have not yet done so.” - -“Or to Miss Lawrence?” - -“No--nor to Mrs. Sanderson.” - -The Duke’s look of concentration at the mention of that name was not -lost upon Sir Dugald. It had the effect of hardening the ironical -smile which for some little time now had hung round his lips. - -“May I ask you,” said the Duke with the air of a man pretty badly -hipped, “not to speak of this matter to anyone until there has been an -opportunity for further discussion?” - -The abrupt change in the tone confessed a moral weakness which Sir -Dugald was quick to notice. But he fell in with the suggestion, with -a show of ready magnanimity for which the Duke could have slain him. -There was no wish to cause avoidable unpleasantness. Sir Dugald was -good enough to say that it was in the interests of all parties that -the skeleton should be kept in the cupboard. The matter was bound to -give pain to a number of innocent people, and if the Duke, even at the -eleventh hour, would be reasonable he might depend upon it that Sir -Dugald Maclean would be only too happy to follow his example. - - -V - -Upon the retirement of the unwelcome visitor, the Duke gave himself up -to a state of irritation verging on fury. Unprepared for this new turn -of the game, taken at a complete disadvantage by a man of few scruples -and diabolical cleverness, he was now horribly smitten by a sense of -having said things he ought not to have said. On one point he was -clear. In the shock of the unforeseen he had yielded far too much to -the impact of a scoundrel. - -The position seen as a whole was one of very grave difficulty, and the -instinct now dominating his mind was to seek a port against a storm -which threatened at any moment to burst upon him. It was of vital -importance that certain facts should be kept from certain people; -otherwise there could be little doubt that the private cosmos of Albert -John, fifth Duke of Bridport, would fall about his ears. - -Alone with his fluttered thoughts, the Duke spent a bad half-hour -trying to marshal them in battle array. Face to face with a situation -dangerous, disagreeable, unforeseen, it would call for much tactical -skill to fend off disaster. Never in his life had he found it so hard -to choose a line of action. At last, the prey of doubt, he rang for -Harriet Sanderson. - -She came to him at once and he told her promptly of Sir Dugald’s visit. -And then, his eyes on her face, he went on to tell her there was reason -to fear that a secret had been penetrated which he had always been led -to believe was known only to her and to himself. - -Watching her narrowly while he spoke he saw his words go home. She -stood a picture of dismay. - -“I wonder if the man really can know all?” he said finally. - -At first she made no attempt to answer the question; but after a while, -in a low, rather frightened voice, she said, “I don’t think he can know -possibly.” - -He searched her troubled eyes, almost as if he doubted. “Perhaps you -will tell me this.” He spoke in a tone of growing anxiety. “Would you -say there is anything like a marked family resemblance?” - -“A very strong one, I’m afraid.” - -“It is confined, I hope, to the picture at the top of the stairs?” - -“Oh, no--at least to my mind----” - -“Yes?” - -“She has her father’s eyes.” - -“Very interesting to know that.” The Duke laughed, but it was a curious -note in which there was not a grain of mirth. “Yet, even assuming that -to be the case, it would take a bold man to jump to such a conclusion. -Surely he would need better ground to go upon.” - -“I am sorry to say he has much more than a mere likeness to help him.” -As Harriet spoke the bright color ran from neck to brow. “He happened -to be at my brother-in-law’s on the evening the child was first brought -to the house.” - -That simple fact was far more than the Duke had bargained for. A look -of dismay came upon him, he shook an ominous head. “It throws a new -light on the matter,” he said, after a pause, painful in its intensity. -“Now tell me this--did he see the child?” - -“Oh, yes!” - -“That helps him to put two and two together at any rate.” A look of -tragic concern came into his face. “What an amazing world!” - -She agreed that the world was amazing. And in spite of the strange -unhappiness in her eyes she could not help smiling a little as a surge -of memories came upon her. She sighed softly, even tenderly as she made -the confession. “To my mind, Sir Dugald Maclean is one of the most -amazing men in it.” - -“Have you any particular reason for saying that?”--The gaze was -disconcerting in its keenness--“apart, I mean, from the mere obvious -facts of his career?” - -“It is simply that I have watched him rise,” said Harriet, between a -smile and a sigh. “When I knew him first he was a London policeman.” - -“How in the world did he persuade Scotland Yard to part with him?” -scoffed his Grace. “One would have thought such a fellow would have -been worth his weight in gold.” - -She could not repress a laugh which to herself seemed to verge on -irreverence. “My brother-in-law says he soon convinced them he was far -too ambitious for the Metropolitan Police Force.” - -“I should say so!” - -“And then he studied the law and got into parliament.” - -“And made his fortune by backing a downtrodden people against a vile -aristocracy.” The Duke’s smile was so sour that it became a grimace. -“In other words a self-made man.” - -“Oh, yes--entirely!” The sudden generous warmth of admiration in -Harriet’s tone surprised the Duke. “When one considers the enormous -odds against him and what he has been able to do at the age of -forty-two, it seems only right to think of him as wonderful.” - -“Personally,” said his Grace, “I prefer to regard him as an -unscrupulous scoundrel.” - -Harriet dissented with a smile. “A great man,” she said softly. - -“Let us leave it at a very dangerous man. He is a real menace, not only -to us, but to the country. Anyhow, we have now to see that he doesn’t -bring down the house about our ears.” - -There was something in the tone that swept the color from Harriet’s -face. “That I realize.” Her voice trembled painfully. “Oh, I do hope he -has not mentioned the matter to Mary.” And she plucked at her dress in -sudden alarm. - -“Not yet, I think,” said the Duke venomously. “He is too sure a hand to -spring his mine before the time is ripe. Meanwhile we are forearmed; -let us take every precaution against him.” - -“Oh, yes, we must!” Her eyes were tragic. - -“A devilish mischance,” said the Duke slowly, “a devilish mischance -that he, of all men, has been able to hit the trail.” - - -VI - -When Harriet had gone from the room, the Duke surrendered again to -his thoughts. By now they were almost intolerable. Pulled this way -and that by a conflict of emotion that was cruel, he was brought more -than once to the verge of a decision he had not the courage to make. -The situation was forcing it upon him, yet so much was involved, so -much was at stake that a weak man at bottom, he was ready to grasp at -anything which held a slender hope of putting off the evil day. Two -interests were vitally opposed; he sought to do justice to both, yet as -far as he could see at the moment, any reconciliation between them was -impossible. - -He was in a state of bitter, ever-growing embarrassment, when Jack was -unexpectedly announced. - -His Grace was not able to detach himself sufficiently from the -maelstrom within to observe the hue of resolution in the bearing of a -rather unwelcome visitor. - -“Good morning, sir,” said the young man coolly, with an aloofness that -came near to sarcasm. And then in a tone of very simple matter of -fact, he said, “I have merely called to ask if you will give a formal -consent to my marrying Mary Lawrence.” - -From the particular way in which the question was put it was easy to -deduce an ultimatum. But it came at an unlucky moment. So delicately -was the Duke poised between two contending forces, that a point-blank -demand was quite enough to turn the scale. His Grace replied at once -that he was not in a position to give consent. - -Jack was prepared for a refusal. The nature of the case had made it -seem inevitable. But there and then he issued a ukase. His kinsman -should have a week in which to think over the matter. And if in that -time the Duke did not change his mind he would return to Canada. - -The threat was taken very coolly, but his Grace was far more concerned -by it than he allowed Jack to see. In fact, he was very much annoyed. -Here was an end to the plan which had been formed for the general -welfare of Bridport House. Such conduct was inconsiderate, tiresome, -irrational. But it was not merely the inconvenience it was bound to -cause which was so troublesome. There was still the other aspect of the -case. He could not rid himself of the feeling that a cruel injustice -was being done to an innocent and defenseless person, and that the -whole blame of it must lie at his own door. - -He had been given a week in which to think the matter over, in which -to examine it in all its bearings. Just now he was not in a mood to -urge the least objection to Jack’s departure; all the same one frankly -an autocrat resented it deeply. Let the fellow go and be damned to -him! But in spite of the philosophic air with which he sent the young -fool about his business, his Grace realized as soon as he was alone -that it was quite impossible to shut his eyes to certain facts. Vital -issues were involved and it was no use shirking them. Even if he had -now made up his mind to steel his heart against gross and rather brutal -injustice, so that the common weal might prosper, nothing could alter -the human aspect of a matter that galled him bitterly. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -A BOMB - - -I - -IT is a bad business, no doubt, when a statesman stoops to sentiment. -Unluckily for the Duke, now that a brain cool and clear was needed in -a critical hour, it had become miserably overclouded by a sense of -chivalry. It was very inconvenient. Never in his life had he found a -decision so hard to reach, and even when it had been arrived at he -could not dismiss the girl from his mind. She had impressed him in such -a remarkable way that it was impossible to forget her. - -Beyond all things a man of the world, one fact stood out with exemplary -clearness. If this girl could have been taken upon her merits she would -have been an almost ideal mate for the heir to Bridport House. She had -shown such a delicate regard for his welfare, so right had been her -feeling in the whole affair, that, even apart from mere justice, it -seemed wrong to exclude her from a circle she could not fail to grace. -In the matter of Bridport House her instinct was so divinely right that -no girl in the land was more naturally fitted to help a tiro through -his novitiate. - -A sad coil truly! And Jack had gone but a very few minutes, when -the matter took another and wholly unexpected turn. The prelude to a -historic incident was the appearance of Sarah on the scene. - -The eldest flower, the light of battle in her gray eyes, was plainly -bent on mischief. So much was clear as soon as she came into the -room. She had not been able to forgive her father for revoking Mrs. -Sanderson’s notice. It had been a wanton dashing of the cup from lips -but little used to victory; and the act had served to embitter a -situation which by now was almost unbearable. - -Sarah had come of fell purpose, but before playing her great _coup_, -she opened lightly in the manner of a skirmisher. Muriel, it seemed, -was the topic that had brought her there; at any rate, it was the topic -on which she began, masking with some astuteness the one so much more -sinister that lay behind. - -“Father, I suppose you know that Muriel has quite made up her mind to -get married?” - -“So I gather.” Detachment could hardly have been carried farther. - -“Such a pity,” Sarah lightly pursued, “but I’m afraid there’s nothing -to be done. She was always obstinate.” - -“Always a fool,” muttered his Grace. - -“I’ve been discussing the matter with Aunt Charlotte.” - -The Duke nodded, but his portentous eyes asked Sarah not to claim one -moment more of his time than the circumstances rendered absolutely -necessary. - -“Aunt Charlotte feels very strongly that it will be wise for you to -give your consent.” - -“Why?” The Duke yawned, but the look in his face was not of the kind -that goes with mere boredom. “Any specific ground for the suggestion?” -He scanned Sarah narrowly, with heavily-lidded eyes. - -“On general grounds only, I believe.” - -The Duke was more than a little relieved, but he was content to express -the fact by transferring his gaze to the book-rest in front of him. - -“She thinks it will be in the interests of everyone to make the best of -a most tiresome and humiliating business. And, after all, he is certain -to be Prime Minister within the next ten years.” - -“Who tells you that?” - -“Last night at dinner I met Harry Truscott, and that’s his prediction. -He says Sir Dugald Maclean is the big serpent that swallows all the -little serpents.” - -“Uncommonly true!” His Grace made a wry mouth. “Still, that’s hardly a -reason why we should receive the reptile here.” - -“No, of course. I quite agree. But Aunt Charlotte thinks there is -nothing to gain by standing out. Muriel has quite made up her foolish -mind. So the dignified thing seems to be to make the best of a -miserable business.” - -“It may be,” said his Grace. “But personally I should be grateful if -Charlotte would mind her own affairs.” - -The tone implied quite definitely that he had no wish to pursue the -topic; nay, it even invited Sarah to make an end of their talk and to -go away as soon as possible. Clearly he was far from understanding that -it was little more than a red herring across the trail of a sinister -intention. But the fact was revealed to him by her next remarks. - -“Oh, by the way, father,” she said casually, or at least with a -lightness of tone that was misleading, “there’s one other matter. I’ve -been thinking the situation out.” - -“Situation!” groped his Grace. - -“That has been created.” Sarah’s tone was almost infantile--“by your -insisting that Mrs. Sanderson should stay on.” - -“Well, what of it, what of it?” - -“It simply makes the whole thing impossible.” Sarah had achieved the -voice of the dove. “So long as this woman remains in the house one -feels that one cannot stay here.” - -“Why not?” - -“Because”--Sarah fixed a deliberate eye on the face of her -sire--“neither Aunt Charlotte nor I think that the present arrangement -is quite seemly.” - - -II - -The attack had been neatly launched, and she saw by the look on her -father’s face that it had gone right home. She was a slow-witted, -rather crass person, with a kind of heavy conceit of her own, but like -all the other Dinneford ladies, at close quarters she was formidable. -The button was off her foil. It was her intention to wound. And at the -instant she struck, his Grace was unpleasantly aware of that fact. - -“What d’ye mean?” It was his recoil from the stroke. - -“I have talked over the matter with Aunt Charlotte. She agrees with me -that the present arrangement is quite hopeless. And she thinks that as -you are unwilling for Mrs. Sanderson to be sent away, the only course -for Blanche, Marjorie, and myself is to leave the house.” - -The face of her father grew a shade paler, but for the moment that -was the only expression of the inward fury. He saw at once that the -dull fool who dared to beard him was no more than a cat’s-paw of -the arch-schemer. The mine was Charlotte’s, even if fired by a hand -infinitely less cunning. - -“Is this a threat?” The surge of his rage was hard to control. - -“You leave us no alternative,” said Sarah doughtily. “Aunt Charlotte -thinks in the circumstances we shall be fully justified in going to -live with her. I think so, too; and I don’t doubt that Blanche and -Marjorie will see the matter in the same light.” - -“What do you think you will gain?” His voice shook with far more than -vexation. “The proposal simply amounts to the washing of dirty linen in -public.” - -“There is such a thing as personal dignity, father,” said Sarah in her -driest tone. - -“No doubt; but how you are going to serve it by dancing to the piping -of Charlotte I can’t for the life of me see.” - -Sarah, however, could see something else. The blow had met already -with some success. And she was fully determined to follow up a first -advantage. - -“Well, father”--her words were of warriorlike conciseness--“if you -still insist on Mrs. Sanderson’s presence here, that is the course we -intend to take.” - -“Oh!” A futile monosyllable, yet at that moment full of meaning. - - -III - -The ultimatum delivered, Sarah promptly retired. She took away from the -interview a pleasing consciousness that the honors were with her. And -this sense of nascent victory had not grown less by half-past one when -she reached Hill Street in time to lunch with Aunt Charlotte. - -It was a rather cheerless and ascetic meal, but both ladies were in -such excellent fighting trim that the meagerness of the fare didn’t -matter. Sarah was sure that she had scored heavily. A well-planted bomb -had wrought visible confusion in the ranks of the foe. “He sees that it -places him in a most awkward position,” was her summary for the grim -ears of the arch-plotter. - -“One knew it would.” There were times when Aunt Charlotte had a -striking personal resemblance to Moltke; and just now, beyond a doubt, -she bore an uncanny likeness to that successful Prussian. - -“He hates the idea of what he calls washing dirty linen in public.” - -“Lacks moral courage as usual.” The remark was made in an undertone to -the coal-scuttle. - -“I hope----.” But Sarah suddenly bit off the end of her sentence. After -all, there are things one cannot discuss. - -“You hope what?” The eye of Aunt Charlotte fixed her like a kite. - -“No need to say what one hopes,” said Sarah dourly. - -“I agree.” Aunt Charlotte took a sip of hot water and munched a -peptonized biscuit with a kind of savage glee. “But we have to remember -that the ice is very thin. One has always felt that--well, you know -what one means. One has felt sometimes that your father....” - -Sarah agreed. For more years than she cared to remember she.... - -“Quite so,” Aunt Charlotte took another biscuit. “And everybody must -know.... However, the time has now come to make an end.” - -“I am sure it has,” said Sarah. - -“Still we are playing it up very high,” said the great tactician. “And -we shall do well to remember....” - -“I agree,” said Sarah cryptically. - -Misgiving they might have, but just now the uppermost feeling was -pride in their work and a secret satisfaction. There could be no doubt -that the blow had gone home. At last they had taken the measure of his -Grace, they had found his limit, the point had been reached beyond -which he would not go. - -“_Au fond_ a coward,” Aunt Charlotte affirmed once more, for the -benefit of the coal-scuttle. And then for the benefit of Sarah, with a -ring of triumph, “Always sets too high a value on public opinion, my -dear.” - -Such being the case the conspirators had every right to congratulate -themselves. And as if to confirm their victory, there came presently by -telephone a most urgent message from Mount Street. Charlotte was to go -round at once. - -“There, what did I tell you!” said that lady. And she sublimely ordered -her chariot. - - -IV - -Enroute to Bridport House, the redoubtable Charlotte did not allow -herself to question that the foe was at the point of hauling down the -flag. His hurry to do so was a little absurd, but it was so like him -to throw up the sponge at the mere threat of publicity. This indecent -haste to come to terms deepened a contempt which had lent a grim -enjoyment to a long hostility. - -However, the reception in store for her ladyship in the smaller library -did much to modify her views. She was received by her brother with an -air of menace which almost verged upon truculence. - -“Charlotte”--there was a boldness of attack for which she was by no -means prepared--“the time has now come to make an end of this comedy.” - -She fully agreed, yet the sixth sense given to woman found occasion to -warn her that she didn’t know in the least to what she was agreeing. - -“You would have it so, you know.” - -He was asked succinctly to explain. - -“Well, it’s a long story.” Already there was a note in the mordant -voice which his sister heard for the first time. “A long, a strange, -and if you will, a romantic story. And let me say that it is by no wish -of my own that I tell it. However, Fate is stronger than we are in -these little matters, and no doubt wiser.” - -“No doubt,” said Charlotte drily. But somehow that note in his voice -made her uneasy, and the look in his face seemed to hold her every -nerve in a vise. “You are speaking in riddles, my friend,” she added -with a little flutter of impatience. - -“It may be so, but before I go on I want you clearly to understand that -it is you, not I, who insist on bringing the roof down upon us.” - -Charlotte’s only reply was to sit very upright, with her sarcastic -mouth drawn in a rigid line. She could not understand in the least what -her brother was driving at, but in his manner was a new, a strange -intensity which somehow gave her a feeling of profound discomfort. - -“You don’t realize what you are doing,” he said. “Still you are not to -blame for that. But the time has come to pull aside the curtain, and to -let you know what we all owe a woman who has been cruelly maligned.” - -Charlotte stiffened perceptibly at these words. After all, the case -was no more and no less than for more than twenty years she had known -it to be. Still open confession was good for the soul! It was a sordid -intrigue, an intrigue of a nature which simply made her loathe the man -opposite. How dare he--and with a servant in his own house! If looks -could have slain, his Grace would have been spared the necessity to -continue a very irksome narrative. - -“Make provision for her and send her away.” The sharp voice was like -the crack of a gun. - -The Duke raised himself slowly and painfully on his elbows. “Hold your -tongue,” he said. And his eyes struck at her. “Be good enough to forgo -all comment until you have heard the whole story.” - -It was trying Charlotte highly, but she set herself determinedly to -listen. - -“Do you remember when she first came here, as second maid to poor -Rachel, a fine, upstanding, gray-eyed Scots girl, one of the most -beautiful creatures you ever saw? Do you remember her devotion? No, I -see you have forgotten.” He closed his eyes for an instant, while the -woman opposite kept hers fixed steadily upon him. “Well, I don’t excuse -myself. But Rachel and I were never happy; the plain truth is we ought -not to have married. It was a family arrangement and it recoiled upon -us. The Paringtons are an effete lot and the same can be said of us -Dinnefords. Nature asked for something else.” - -Now that he had unlocked the doors of memory a growing emotion became -too much for the Duke, and for a moment he could not go on. His sister, -in the meantime, continued to hold him with pitiless eyes. - -“One might say,” he went on, “that it was the call of the blood. I -remember her first as the factor’s daughter, a long-legged creature -in a red tam-o’-shanter, running about the woods of Ardnaleuchan. You -haven’t forgotten Donald Sanderson, the father?” - -“No, I haven’t forgotten him,” said Charlotte. - -“That was a fine fellow. ‘Man Donald’ as our father used to call him, -helped me to stalk my first stag. We ranged the woods together days on -end. I sometimes think I owe more to that man than to any other human -being.” - -Again he was silent, but the eyes of his sister never left his face. - -“Yes, it was the call of the blood.” He sighed as he passed his -handkerchief over his face which was now gray and glistening. “As I -say, Rachel and I ought not to have married; we didn’t suit each other. -Our marriage was a family arrangement. It had almost ceased to be -tolerable long before the end, but we kept our compact as well as we -could, for we were determined that other people should not suffer. And -then came Rachel’s long illness, and the girl’s wonderful devotion--do -you remember how Rachel would rather have her with her than any of the -nurses? And then she died, and of course that altered everything.” - -Lady Wargrave sat as if carved out of stone, her eyes still upon the -bleak face of the invalid. “Is that all?” she said. - -“No, it is not. There’s more to tell.” - -“Tell it then so that we may have done with it.” Charlotte’s voice -quivered. - -“Very well, since you insist.” The softness of the tone was surprising, -yet to Charlotte it said nothing. “Rachel died and everything, as I -say, was altered. ‘Man Donald’s’ daughter became the only woman who -ever really meant anything to me. Somehow I felt I couldn’t do without -her. And to make an end of a long and tedious story, finally I married -her.” - -“You _married_ her!” Lady Wargrave sat as if she had swallowed a poker. - -“Yes, but before doing so I made a condition. Things were to go on as -they were, provided....” - -“... provided!” Excitement fought curiosity in Charlotte’s angry voice. - -“... she didn’t bring a boy into the world.” - -“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Charlotte’s voice cracked in the -middle. - -“It was quite a simple arrangement, and in the circumstances it seemed -the best. So long as there was no man child to complicate the thing -unduly, the world was to be kept out of our secret. At the time it -seemed wise and right to do that. Otherwise it would have meant a -fearful upset for everybody.” - -“Is one to understand,” gasped Charlotte, “that when Rachel died you -actually married this--this woman?” - -The Duke nodded. “But I made the condition that our secret should be -rigidly guarded--always assuming that Fate did not prove too much for -us. She went to the little house on the river at Buntisford, where I -used to go for the fishing and shooting. And she gave me ten years of -happiness--the only happiness I have known. And then came my breakdown, -since when she has nursed me with more than a wife’s devotion.” His -voice failed suddenly and he lay back in his chair with closed eyes. - -It was left to Charlotte to break the irksome silence that followed. - -“How could you be so mad!” She spoke under her breath not intending her -words to be heard, but a quick ear caught them. - -“Nay,” he said in the tone that was so new to her, “it was the only -thing to do. It was the call of the blood. And this was a devoted -woman, a woman one could trust implicitly.” - -“Madness, my friend, madness!” - -He shook his head somberly. “All life is a madness, if you will a -divine madness. It is a madness that damns the consequences. By taking -too much thought for the morrow we entomb ourselves. When Rachel died -life meant for me the woman of my choice. And, Charlotte, let me -say this”--he raised himself in his chair and looked at his sister -fixedly--“she is the best woman I have ever known.” - -For a moment she sat a picture of bewilderment, and then in a voice -torn with emotion she said, “Out of regard for the others things had -better go on as they are. But perhaps you will tell me, are there any -children of this marriage?” - -“There is one child.” - -Charlotte caught her breath sharply. - -“A girl. And in accordance with our compact she has been brought -up in complete ignorance of her paternity. It seemed wise that she -should know nothing. Her mother had her reared among her own people, -because it was her mother’s express wish that the children of the first -marriage should suffer no prejudice; and at the present time neither -the girl herself nor the world at large is any the wiser.” - -Charlotte began to breathe a little more freely. “At all events,” she -said, “that fact seems to confirm one’s opinion that things had better -go on as they are.” - -But her brother continued to gaze at her with somber eyes. “Charlotte,” -he said very slowly, “you have forced me to tell a story I had -hoped would never be told in my lifetime. I have had to suffer your -suspicions, but now that you are in the secret, you must share its -responsibilities.” - -“I don’t understand you,” said Lady Wargrave bluntly. - -“I will explain. A horrible injustice has been done this girl, the -child of the second marriage. So much is clear to you, no doubt?” - -Lady Wargrave’s only reply was to tighten her lips. - -“You wish me to be still more explicit?” - -She invited him to be so. - -“Well, as far as I can I will be.” His air was simple matter of fact. -“But I warn you that we are now at the point where we have to realize -that Fate is so much stronger than ourselves.” - -A momentary hesitation drew a harsh, “Go on, let me hear the worst.” - -“Can’t you guess who this girl is?” he said abruptly. - -“Pray, why should one?” - -“She is the girl Jack wants to marry.” - -A long silence followed this announcement. It would have been kind -perhaps had he helped his sister to break it, but a clear perception -of the first thought in her mind had raised a barrier. With a patience -that was half-malicious he waited for a speech that he knew was bound -to come. - -“It was to have been expected,” she said at last with something -perilously like a snarl of subdued anger. - -“Why expected?” They were the words for which he had waited, and he -seized them promptly. - -“She has been too much for you, my friend.” - -“Whom do you mean?” - -“The mother, of course. She has planned this marriage so that she might -be revenged upon us here.” - -He was quite ready to do Charlotte the justice of allowing that it was -the only view she was likely to hold. The pressure of mere facts was -too heavy. Words of his would be powerless against them; and yet he was -determined to use every means at his command to clear that suspicion -from her mind. - -“I hope you will believe me when I tell you she is entirely innocent,” -he said in a voice of sudden emotion. - -Charlotte slowly shook her head, but it was a gesture of defeat. She -was beyond malice now. - -“Charlotte, I give you my word that she had no part in it.” - -His sister looked at him pityingly. “It is impossible to believe that,” -she said without bitterness. - -“So I see. But it is my duty to convince you.” - -For a moment he fought a growing emotion, and then his mind suddenly -made up, he pressed the button of the electric bell that was near his -elbow. - - -V - -The familiar summons was answered by Harriet herself. As she came into -the room her rather scared eyes were caught at once by the profile of -the dowager. But the reception in store for her was far from being of -the kind she had reason to expect, for which she had had too little -time to prepare. - -To begin with Lady Wargrave rose to receive her. And that stately and -considered act was supplemented by the simple words of the Duke. - -“She knows everything,” he said from the depths of his invalid chair, -without a suspicion of theatricality. - -Harriet, all the color struck from her face, shrank back, a picture of -horror and timidity. - -“Sit down, my dear, and let us hold a little family council.” That note -of intimacy and affection was so strange in Charlotte’s ear, that it -hit her almost as hard as the previous words had hit the wife of his -bosom. However, the two ladies sat, and the Duke with a nonchalance -that hardly seemed credible, went on in a quietly domestic voice, as -he turned to Harriet again. “We shall value your help and advice, if -you feel inclined to give it, in this matter of Mary and the young man -Dinneford.” - -At this amazing speech Lady Wargrave stirred uneasily on her cushion -of thorns. She breathed hard, her mordant mouth grew set, in her grim -eyes were unutterable things. - -“One moment, Johnnie,” she interposed. “Does Mrs.--er Sanderson quite -understand what it means to us?” - -“Perfectly,” he said, “no one better.” The depth of the tone expressed -far more than those dry words. “It may help matters,” he added, turning -to Harriet again, “if I say at once that we are going to ask you to -make two decisions in the name of the people you have served so long -and so faithfully. And the first is this: Since, as you will see I -have been forced, much against my will, to let a third person into our -secret, you have now the opportunity of taking your true position in -the sight of the world.” - -Lady Wargrave shivered. Somehow this was a turn of the game she had not -been able to foresee. - -“That is to say,” the Duke went on, “you have now, as far as I am -concerned, full liberty to assume your true style and dignity as -mistress here. For more than twenty years you have sacrificed yourself -for others, but the time has now come when you need do so no longer. -What do you say?” - -Harriet did not speak. Lady Wargrave was silent also, but a kind of -stony horror was freezing her. The whole situation had become so -fantastic that she felt the inadequacy of her emotions. - -“You shall have a perfectly free hand,” the Duke went on. “Assume -your position now, and good care shall be taken that you are amply -maintained in it. What do you say, my dear?” he added gently. - -Tears were melting her now, and she was unable to speak. - -“Well, think it over,” said his Grace. “And be assured that whichever -course you take, it will be the right one. We owe you more than we can -repay. However, that is only one issue, and there is another, which is -hardly less important.” - -Lady Wargrave stirred again on her cushion. For a moment there was not -a sound to be heard in the room. - -“You see,” the Duke went on, “I’ve been giving anxious thought to--to -this girl of ours. And I really don’t see, having regard to all the -circumstances, why justice should any longer be denied her. No matter -who the man is, he is lucky to get her. And, as I understand, they are -a very devoted couple.” - -“Oh, yes, they are!” The words were Harriet’s and they were uttered in -a tone broken by emotion. - -“Well, you shall make the decision,” he said. “You know, of course, how -the matter stands.” Harriet bowed her head in assent, and his Grace -turned an eye bright with malice upon the Dowager. “You see, Charlotte, -this girl of ours, brought up in a very humble way, and left to fight -her own battle, under the providence of the good God, absolutely -declines to come among us unless she has the full and free consent of -the head of the clan. So far that consent has not been given, and if -in the course of the next week it is not forthcoming, the young man -Dinneford threatens to return to Canada.” - -“I see.” The walls of Charlotte’s world had fallen in, her deepest -feelings had been outraged, but she was still perfect mistress of -herself. She turned her hard eyes upon Harriet, but in them now was -a look very different from the one that had been wont to regard the -housekeeper. - -Much had happened in a very little time, but to the last a fine -tactician, Charlotte had contrived to keep her head. She was in the -presence of calamity, she had met a blow that would have broken a -weaker person in pieces, but already a line of action was formed in her -mind. One thing alone could save them, and that the continued goodwill -of the woman they had so long misjudged and traduced. - -“Mrs. Sanderson”--she used the old name unconsciously--“we owe you a -great deal.” It was not easy to make the admission, even if common -justice rather than policy called for it. “I hope now you will let us -add to the debt.” - -The Duke was forced to admire the dignity and the directness of the -appeal. He knew how hard she had been hit. But that was not all. -Marking his sister’s tone, intently watching her grim face, he saw how -completely her attitude had changed. The other woman had conquered, -but in spite of all he had suffered at the hands of Charlotte, it was -difficult not to feel a certain respect as well as a certain pity for -her in the hour of her defeat. - -By this, Harriet, too, had become mistress of herself. She, also, had -suffered much, but she had never played for victory, and she was very -far from the thought of it now. “I have but one wish,” she said. - -“And that is?” His tone was strangely gentle for her voice had failed -suddenly. - -“To do what is right.” - -The simplicity of the words held them silent. Brother and sister looked -at her with a kind of awe in their eyes. It was as if another world had -opened to their rather bewildered gaze. - -“I want to do right to those who have been so good to me, and to my -father and my grandfather before me.” - -Somehow that speech, gentleness itself, yet sharp as a sword, brought -the blood to Lady Wargrave’s face. In a flash she saw and felt the -justification of her brother’s amazing deed. This devoted woman in -her selflessness held the master key to life and Fate; in a flash of -insight she saw that groundlings and grovelers like themselves were -powerless before it. Somehow those words, that bearing, solved the -mystery. She could no longer blame her brother; he had been caught in -the toils of an irresistible force. - -“Mrs. Sanderson”--there was reverence now in the harsh voice--“you are -the best judge of what is right. We are content to leave the matter to -your discretion.” Even if the accomplished tactician was uppermost in -Charlotte’s words, in the act of uttering them was a large rather noble -simplicity. - -The Duke nodded acquiescence. - -“I should like the present arrangement to go on,” said Harriet. -“Perhaps the truth will have to be known some time, but let it come out -after we are dead, when it can hurt nobody.” - -Lady Wargrave drew a long breath of relief and gratitude. - -“You are very wise,” she said. - -But the Duke took her up at once with a saturnine smile. “You seem to -forget, Charlotte, that the existing arrangement can no longer go on.” - -“Pray, why not?” - -“You have just been kind enough to tell us,” he said bitingly, “that -Sarah and the girls are going to live with you at Hill Street--except, -of course, on one condition!” - -Their eyes met. Suddenly they smiled frostily at each other. - -“If you care to leave the matter to me,” said Charlotte, “I will see to -that.” - -“But that woman, Sarah,” he persisted. “She’s so obstinate that we may -have to tell her.” - -Charlotte shook her head doughtily. “I think I shall be able to manage -her.” - -“So be it.” He smiled grimly. “Anyhow we shall be very glad to leave -that matter in your hands.” - -“With perfect safety, I think you may do that.” And Charlotte, sore and -embittered as she was, rounded off this comfortable assurance with a -long sigh of relief. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -ARDORS AND ENDURANCES - - -I - -“THERE,” cried Mary upon a note of triumph. - -An excited wave of that delightful journal, the _Morning Post_, -accompanied the pæan. And then it was hurled across the breakfast-table -with deft precision into the lap of Milly. - -“A marriage has been arranged,” said the courier of Hymen, “and will -shortly take place between Charles, only son of the late Simeon -Cheesewright and Mrs. Cheesewright, of Streatham Hill, and Mildred -Ulrica, younger daughter of the late H. Blandish Wren and Mrs. Wren, 5, -Victoria Mansions, Broad Place, Knightsbridge, W.” - -Again arose the triumphant cry. - -But Mrs. Wren, excavating the interior of a boiled egg, felt it to be -her duty to check this unbridled enthusiasm. For some days past, with -rather mournful iteration, she had let it be known that the impending -announcement could not hope to receive her unqualified approval. - -In the first place, as she frankly admitted, the Marquis had spoiled -her. She had to confess that he had proved sadly lacking in backbone -when brought to the test, but his sternest critics could not deny that -“before everything he was a gentleman.” - -Mrs. Wren ascribed her own pure taste in manhood to the fact that she -had begun her career in the legitimate drama under the ægis of Mr. -Painswick at the Theater Royal, Edinburgh. He, too, had been before -everything a gentleman. Mr. Painswick had shaped Lydia Mifflin, as she -was then, in his own inimitable mold. Upon a day she was to play Grace -to his Digby Grant in “The Two Roses.” Then it was, as she had always -felt, that she had touched her high-water mark; and the signal occasion -was ever afterwards a beacon in her life. From that bright hour the Mr. -Painswick standard had regulated the fair Lydia’s survey of the human -male. Even the late lamented Mr. H. Blandish Wren, who was without a -peer in “straight” comedy, whose Steggles in “London Assurance” had -never been surpassed, even that paladin----. Still it isn’t quite fair -to give away State secrets! - -Mrs. Wren had once said of Charles Cheesewright “that he was not out -of the top drawer.” However, if he was not of the caste of Vere de -Vere she had to own that “he had points.” He was one of those young -men who mean more than they say, who do better than they promise, who -clothe their thoughts with actions rather than words. Also, he had two -motors--a Daimler and a Rolls-Royce, he had rooms in the Albany, and -though perhaps just a little inclined to overdress, he had such a sure -taste in jewelry that he took his fiancée once a week to Cartier’s. And -beyond everything else, he had the supreme advantage over my lord that -he knew his own mind pretty clearly. - -In the opinion of Princess Bedalia, Milly was an extremely lucky girl. -Her young man was a simple, good fellow, honest as the day, he was -incapable of any kind of meanness, he was very rich, and, what was -hardly less important, he was very much in love. Milly, however, who -had her mother’s knack of seeing men and events objectively, did not -yield a final graceful assent until she extorted a promise from Mr. -Charles that he would suffer the rape of his mustache, at the best a -mere scrub of an affair, and that he would solemnly eschew yellow plush -hats which made him look like a piano-tuner. - -Still, on this heroic morning, in the middle of July, Mrs. Wren seemed -less pleased with the world than she had reason to be. She did some -sort of justice to her egg, but she wouldn’t look at the marmalade. -If the truth must be told, a rather histrionic mind was still haunted -by the shade of the noble Marquis. As Milly, in one of her moments -of engaging candor, had told Mary already, as far as her mother was -concerned Wrexham had simply queered the pitch for everybody. - -Certainly that lady felt it to be her duty to rebuke Mary’s enthusiasm. -There was nothing to make a song about. Milly was simply throwing -herself away. If everyone had had their rights, she would have been -Lady W., with a coronet on her notepaper. As it was, there was -really nothing so very wonderful in being the wife of an overdressed -tobacconist. - -Mary cried “Shame,” and for her pains was sternly admonished. One who -has made such hay of her own dazzling matrimonial chances must not -venture to say a word. She who might have queened it among the highest -in the land merely by substituting the big word “Yes” for the small -word “No” must forever hold her peace on this vexed subject. But Mary -was in such wild spirits at the announcement in the _Morning Post_ that -she refused to be browbeaten. She continued to sing the praises of -“Charley” in spite of the clear annoyance of Mrs. Wren. The good lady -was unable to realize that the girl was trying with might and main to -stifle an ache that was almost intolerable. - -“What ho!” Milly suddenly exclaimed, withdrawing a slightly _retroussé_ -but decidedly charming nose from Page 5 of the _Morning Post_, “so -they’ve actually made Uncle Jacob a Bart.” - -“My dear, you mean a baronet. Who?--made who a baronet?” Mrs. Wren laid -down an imperious egg-spoon. - -“Jacob Cheesewright, Esquire, M.P. for Bradbury, a rich manufacturer -and prominent philanthropist. He’s in the honor list just issued by the -King’s government.” - -“Hooray!” Mary indulged in an enthusiastic wave of the tea-pot which -happily was rather less than half full. “Which means, my dear Miss -Wren, that one of these days there’s just a chance of your being my -lady.” - -“As though that could possibly matter!” cried Milly upon a note of the -finest scorn imaginable. - -“As though that could possibly matter!” Mary’s reproduction of the note -in question was so humorously exact that it sent her victim into a fit -of laughter. - -But Mrs. Wren had her word to say on the subject. In her opinion, -which was that of all sensible people, it mattered immensely. - -“As though it could!” persisted Milly. - -“My dear,” said Mrs. Wren, “that is shallow and ignorant. A baronetcy -is a baronetcy. All people of breeding think so, anyway.” - -The prospect of Uncle Jacob’s elevation had already been canvassed -in Broad Place by Charles, his nephew. There was evidently something -in the wind Whitehall way. Uncle Jacob had professed such a heroic -indifference to Aunt Priscilla’s intelligent anticipations, that even -Charles, his nephew, the simplest of simple souls, and a singularly -unworldly young man, had been constrained to take an interest in the -matter. As for Aunt Priscilla, she had been in such a state of flutter -for the past two months, that the upper servants at Thole Park, -Maidstone, even had visions of an earldom. Still, as Mr. Bryant, the -butler, who in his distinguished youth had graduated at Bridport House, -Mayfair, remarked to Mrs. Jennings the housekeeper in his statesmanlike -way, “The Limit for baby’s underclothing is a baronetcy.” - - -II - -Breakfast was just at an end when the trim parlormaid came into the -room with a portentous-looking milliner’s box. It had that moment -arrived, and on examination was found to contain a long coat of -sable. This enchanting garment was with Mary’s best wishes for future -happiness. - -The donor was scolded roundly for her lavishness, but Milly was -delighted by the gift, and Mrs. Wren, who had professed a stern -determination to be no longer friends with Mary was rather touched. She -well knew that she was a person “to bank on.” Besides, Mrs. Wren had an -honest admiration for a fine talent and the unassumingness with which -it was worn. She was incapable of making an enemy, for her one idea -was to bring pleasure to other people. If ever human creature had been -designed for happiness it must have been this girl, yet none could have -been more fully bent on casting it willfully away. - -As a fact, both Milly and her mother had been much troubled by the -course of recent events. The previous afternoon Jack had taken a sad -farewell of his friends in Broad Place. His passage was already booked -in the _Arcadia_, which that very Saturday was to sail from Liverpool -to New York. All his hopes had proved futile, all his arguments vain. -Mary could not be induced to change her mind, which even at the -eleventh hour he had ventured to think was just possible. In those -last desperate moments, strength of will had enabled her to stick to -her resolve. And in the absence of any intimation from Bridport House -the Tenderfoot had been driven to carry out his threat. Yet up till -the very last he had tried his utmost to persuade the girl he loved to -merge her own life in his and accompany him to that new world where a -career awaited him. - -Perhaps these efforts had not been wholly reasonable. She had a real -vocation for the theater if ever girl had, even if he had a real -vocation for jobbing land. But allowance has to be made for a strong -man in love. He was in sorry case, poor fellow, but her sense of duty -to others was so strong, that even if it meant tragic unhappiness for -both, as it surely must, she still sought the courage not to yield. - -Such a decision was going to cost a very great deal. The previous -afternoon, at the moment of parting, she had been fully aware of that, -and hour by hour since she had realized it with a growing intensity. -A stern effort of the will had been needed for Princess Bedalia to -achieve her five hundred-and-sixty-second appearance that evening; she -had spent a miserable night and now, in spite of the whole-heartedness -with which she threw herself into Milly’s affairs, her laugh was -pitched a little too high. - -Since the visit to Bridport House she had come to know her own mind -quite definitely. She was deeply in love with Jack, but unless the -powers that were gave consent, she was now resolved never to marry him. -In vain her friends continued to assure her that such an attitude was -wrong. In vain the Tenderfoot declared it to be simply preposterous. -Cost what it might, it had become a point of honor not to yield. To one -of such clear vision, with, as it seemed, a rather uncanny insight into -the workings of worlds beyond her own, it was of vital importance to -study the interests of Bridport House. - -Milly, even if very angry with her friend, could not help admiring this -devotion to a quixotic sense of right, and the force of character which -faced the issue so unflinchingly. She could not begin to understand -the point of view, but she well knew what it was going to cost. And -this morning, in spite of the pleasant and piquant drama of her own -affairs, she could not rid herself of a feeling of distress on Mary’s -account. Now it had come “to footing the bill,” a heavy price would -have to be paid. And to Milly’s shrewd, engagingly material mind, the -whole situation was exasperating. - -So much for the thoughts uppermost in a loyal heart, while the -misguided cause of them danced a _pas seul_ in honor of the morning’s -news. Milly, indeed, as she gazed in the glass over the chimney-piece -to see what sort of a figure she made in the coat of sable, was much -nearer tears than was either seemly or desirable. Still, in spite of -that, she was able to muster a healthy curiosity upon the subject of -her appearance. Fur has a trick of making common people look more -common, and uncommon people look more uncommon, a trite fact of which -Milly, the astute, was well aware. It was pleasant to find at any -rate that a moment’s fleeting survey set all her doubts at rest upon -that important point. The coat, a dream of beauty, became her quite -miraculously. What a virtue there was in that deep, rich gloss! It gave -new values to the eyes, the hair, the rounded chin, even the piquant -nose of the wearer. - -“You’re a dear!” Milly burst out, as she turned aside from the glass. -But the person to whom the tribute was offered was quite absorbed -in looking through the open window. Indeed, at that very moment a -succession of royal toots from a motor horn ascended from the precincts -of Broad Place, and Mary ran out on to the veranda with a view halloa. -Then, her face full of humor and eloquence, she turned to look back -into the room with the thrilling announcement: “Charley’s here!” - - -III - -In two minutes, or rather less as time is measured in Elysium, Mr. -Charles Cheesewright had entered that pleasant room with all the gay -assurance of an accepted suitor. - -“How awfully well it reads, doesn’t it?” he said, taking up the -_Morning Post_ with the fingers of a lover. - -“Uncle Jacob’s baronetcy?” said Mary, with an eye of bold mischief. - -“Oh, no! That’s a bit of a bore,” said Mr. Charles with a polite -grimace. - -“Why a bore?” - -“Uncle Jacob has no heir and he’s trying to arrange for me to be the -second bart.” - -Princess Bedalia looked with a royal air at her favorite. “The truth -is, dear Charles, you are shamelessly pleased about the whole matter.” - -“Well, ye-es, I am.” Charles was hopelessly cornered, but like any -other self-respecting Briton he was quite determined to put as good -a face as possible upon a most damaging admission. “I am so awfully -pleased for Milly. And, of course, for Uncle Jacob.” - -“Not to mention Aunt Priscilla,” interposed Milly. It was her proud -boast that she had already tried a fall with Aunt Priscilla, had tried -it, moreover, pretty successfully. That lady, within her own orbit, was -a great light, but Miss Wren had proved very well able for her so far. -The Aunt Priscillas of the world were not going to harry Miss Wren, and -it was by no means clear that this simple fact did not count as much -to her honor in the sight of Uncle Jacob as it undoubtedly did in the -sight of Charles, his nephew. - -At any rate, Mr. Charles had come that morning to Broad Place on a -diplomatic mission. It seemed that Uncle Jacob had made the sporting -suggestion that the happy pair should motor down to Thole Park, -Maidstone, for luncheon, that Charles, whose only merit in the sight of -heaven was that he was “plus one” at North Berwick, should afterwards -give careful consideration to the new nine-hole course which had been -laid out in front of the house by the renowned Alec Thomson of Cupar, -while Milly had a little heart-to-heart talk with Aunt Priscilla. - -In a word, it began to look like being quite a good world for Charles -and Milly. And even Mrs. Wren was constrained to admit it. Sheer human -merit was becoming a little too much for the higher criticism. And -daily these twain were discovering new beauties in each other. For one -thing, Charles’s upper lip was now as smooth as a baby’s, and a mouth -so firm and manly was thereby disclosed that it really seemed a pity -to hide it. Moreover, for a fortnight past, in subtle, unsuspected -ways he had been bursting forth into fine qualities. This morning, for -instance, he seemed to have added a cubit to his stature. He was in the -habit of saying in regard to himself that “he was not a flyer,” but -really if you saw him at the angle Milly did, and you came to think -about him in her rational manner, it began to seem after all he might -turn out a bit of one. If only he could be persuaded to give up his -piano-tuner’s hat there would be hope for him anyway. - - -IV - -Milly had scarcely left the room to put on her things before she was -back in it. And she returned in such a state of excitement that she -could hardly speak. The cause of it, moreover, following hard upon her -heels, was a wholly unexpected visitor. - -“He was just coming in at the front door,” Milly explained, as soon as -the state of her emotions would allow her to do so. “I was never so -taken aback in my life. Why, a feather would have downed me.” - -In that moment of drama it was not too much to say that a feather -would have had an equal effect upon Mary. If human resolve stood for -anything, and it stood for a good deal in the case of Jack Dinneford, -he should have been on his way to Liverpool. At six o’clock the -previous evening they had parted heroically, not expecting to see each -other again. For seventeen hours or so, they had been steeling their -wills miserably. About 2 a.m., the hour when ghosts walk and pixies -dance the foxtrot, both had felt that, after all, they would not be -strong enough to bear the self-inflicted blow. But daylight had found -them true to the faith that was in them. She had just enough fortitude -not to telephone a change of mind, he was just man enough to decide not -to miss the 10.5 from Euston. - -Still, when the best has been said for it, the human will is but a -trivial affair. Man is not much when the Fates begin to weave their -magic web. A taxi was actually at the door of Jack’s chambers, nay, -his luggage had even been strapped into the front of the vehicle, when -there came an urgent message by telephone from Bridport House to say -that his Grace most particularly desired that Mr. Dinneford and Miss -Lawrence would come to luncheon at half-past one. - -What was a man to do? To obey the command was, of course, to forgo all -hope of sailing by the _Arcadia_. To ignore it was to forgo all hope of -entering Elysium. In justice to Mr. Dinneford it took him rather less -than one minute to decide. His servant was promptly ordered to unship -his gear and dismiss the taxi. - -It was the nearest possible shave. His Grace had run matters so -fine, that had he delayed his communication another two minutes, the -Tenderfoot would have been on his way to New York. Some miraculous -change of plan had occurred at the fifty-ninth minute of the eleventh -hour. Exactly what it was must now be the business of a distracted -lover to find out. - -Jack’s totally unexpected return to Broad Place was in itself an epic. -And his unheralded appearance had such an effect upon Mary, upon Milly, -upon Mrs. Wren, that he regretted not having had the forethought -to telephone his change of plans. He came as a bolt from the blue, -bringing with him an immensely difficult moment; and the presence -of Mr. Charles Cheesewright, of whom Jack only knew by hearsay, -undoubtedly added to its embarrassments. - -Before anything could be done, even before the excited Milly could -interpose a “Tell me, is it all right?” it was necessary for these -paladins to be made known to each other. There was wariness on the part -of both in the process. Neither was quite able to accept the other on -trust. But a brief taking of the moral temperature by two members of -the sex which inclines to reserve convinced the one that Wrexham’s -successor had the air and the look of a good chap, and what was quite -as important, convinced the other that the heir to the dukedom was not -the least of a swankpot. All of which was so far excellent. - -A desire to ask a thousand questions was simply burning holes in Milly. -But she had to endure the torments of martyrdom. Questions could not -be asked in the presence of Charles. It called for a great effort to -behave as if the bottom had not fallen out of the universe. In the most -heroic way she kept the conversation at a diplomatic level, remarking -among other things that it was an ideal day for motoring, which finally -reminded her that she must really go and put on her hat. - -“And don’t forget a thick veil,” Mary called after her, in a voice of -superhuman detachment. - -The business of not letting the innocent Charles into the secret was a -superb piece of comedy. There is really no need to write novels or to -go to the play. They are the stuff our daily lives are made of. The way -in which these four people set themselves to hoodwink a Simple Simon -of a fifth was quite a rich bit of humor. Little recked Mr. Charles -Cheesewright that the heavens had just opened in Broad Place. - -At last Milly returned _cap-à-pie_, and then by the mercy of Divine -Providence Mr. Charles suddenly remembered that it was a long way to -Maidstone and that it was now a quarter past eleven. - -“I’m quite ready when you are,” said Milly to her cavalier, with all -the guile of a young female serpent. Mr. Charles shook hands gravely -and Britishly all round, and Mary wished them a pleasant journey, and -Mrs. Wren “hoped they would wrap up well,” and then Milly stepped -deftly back three paces from the door, saying, “You know the way down, -Charley,” as clear an intimation as any young man could desire that it -was up to him to lead it. - -Charles led the way accordingly, and then came Milly’s chance. - -“What _has_ happened?” - -“Uncle Albert has sent for us.” - -“For both?” - -“For both!” - -Just for a moment Mary’s feelings nearly proved too much for her. -Having come to despair of Bridport House, there had been no reason to -hope for this sudden change of front. She simply couldn’t fathom it. -That was also true of Milly. And as the significance of the whole thing -rushed upon that imperious creature, she turned to Mary in the manner -of Helen, the Spartan Queen. “A last word to you, Miss Lawrence!” Her -voice trembled with excitement. “If you do anything idiotic, I’ll never -speak to you again. And that’s official!” - - -V - -As the crow flies, it is just nine minutes from Broad Place to Bridport -House. Therefore they had time to burn. And as it was such a perfect -day for motoring, it was a day equally well adapted for sitting under -the trees in the Park. - -_Force majeure_ was applied so vigorously by Mrs. Wren, with timely aid -from the Tenderfoot, that Mary was not given half a chance to jib at -this new and amazing turn of fortune’s shuttle. She must wear her new -hat with the roses--Mrs. Wren. She must wear Raquin’s biscuit-colored -masterpiece--Mr. Dinneford. Her diamond earrings thought Mrs. Wren. Mr. -Dinneford thought her old-fashioned seed pearl. There was never really -any question of her going to luncheon at Bridport House at 1.30. Her -friends and counselors did not even allow it to arise. The only thing -that need trouble her was how she looked when she got there. - -En route she made a picture of immense distinction beyond a doubt. -Whether it was the hat with the roses, or the sunshine of July, or the -dress of simple muslin, which on second thoughts seemed more in keeping -with the occasion than the Raquin masterpiece, and in the opinion of -Mrs. Wren had the further merit “that it gave her eyes a chance,” or -her favorite earrings which Aunt Harriet had given her as a little -girl; or the fact that Jack walked beside her, and that Happiness -is still the greatest of Court painters, who shall say?--but in the -course of a pilgrimage from Albert Gate to the Marble Arch and half way -back again, she certainly attracted more than her share of the public -notice. In fact, with her fine height and her lithe grace she actually -provoked a hook-nosed, hard-featured dame in a sort of high-hung -barouche to turn in the most deliberate manner and look at her. Or it -may have been because the Tenderfoot in passing had raised a reluctant, -semi-ironical hat. - -“Aunt Charlotte,” said he. - -“I hope Aunt Charlotte is not as disagreeable as she looks,” was Mary’s -thought, but doubtless remembering in the nick of time Talleyrand’s -famous maxim, she merely said, “What a _clever_ face!” - -“Is it?” said Jack, unconcernedly. But his mind was on other things, -perhaps. - -As a matter of fact, it _was_ on other things. - -“Let’s sit here five minutes,” he said, as they came to a couple of -vacant chairs. “Then I’ll tell you a bit of news.” - -They sat accordingly. And the bit of news was the following: - -“Muriel’s hooked it.” - -Respect for her mother tongue caused Mary to demand a repetition of -this cryptic statement. - -“Hooked it with her Radical,” Jack amplified. “They were married -yesterday morning, quite quietly, ‘owing to the indisposition of -his Grace,’ the papers say. And they are now in Scotland on their -honeymoon.” - -“Let us hope they’ll be happy,” said Mary. “She has a very brilliant -husband, at any rate.” - -“Not a doubt of that. If brains breed happiness, they’ll be all right.” - -But do brains breed happiness? that was the question in their minds at -the moment. Aunt Charlotte had brains undoubtedly, but as she passed -them three minutes since no one could have said that she looked happy. -The Duke had brains, but few would have said that he was happy. Mary -herself had brains, and they had brought her within an ace of wrecking -her one chance of real happiness. - -They were in the midst of this philosophical inquiry, when Chance, that -prince of magicians, gave the kaleidoscope a little loving shake, and -hey! presto! the other side of the picture was laughingly presented to -them. - -A rather lop-sided young man in a brown bowler hat was marching head -in air along the gravel in front of them. One shoulder was a little -higher than its neighbor, his clothes looked shabby in the sun of July, -his gait was slightly grotesque, yet upon his face was a smile of rare -complacency. In one hand he held a small girl of five, and in the other -a small boy to match her; and that may have been why at this precise -moment he looked as if he had just acquired a controlling interest in -the planet. And yet there must have been some deeper, subtler reason -for this young man’s air of power mingled with beatitude. - -Rather mean of mansion as he was, it was impossible for two shrewd -spectators of the human comedy on the Park chairs to ignore him as he -swung gayly by. In spite of his impossible hat and his weird trousers, -the mere look on his face was almost cosmic in its significance, he -was so clearly on terms with heaven. But in any case he would have -forcibly entered their scheme of existence. Just as he came level with -them he chanced to lower his gaze abruptly and by doing so caught the -fascinated eyes of Mary fixed upon his face. - -“Good morning, Miss Lawrence. What a nice day!” - -He was not in a position to take off his hat, but he enforced a hearty -greeting with a superb bow, and passed jauntily on. - -The Tenderfoot could not help being amused. “Who’s your friend?” He -turned a quizzical eye upon a countenance glowing with mischief. - -“That’s Alf.” - -“In the name of all that’s wonderful, who is Alf?” The tone was -expostulation all compact, but as mirth was frankly uppermost, even -the most sensitive democrat could hardly have resented it. - -“He’s a man on a newspaper.” - -“I see,” said the Tenderfoot. But somehow it didn’t explain him. - -“An old friend, my dear, and he’s now the Press, with a capital letter. -The other day he interviewed me for his paper.” - -“How could you let him?” gasped the Tenderfoot. - -“For the sake of old times.” Suddenly she loosed her famous note. “That -little man is in my stars. He dates back to my earliest flapperdom, -when my great ambition was to kill him. He was the greengrocer’s boy in -the next street, and he used to call after me: - - “‘I am Mary Plantagenet; - Who would imagine it? - Eyes full of liquid fire, - Hair bright as jet; - No one knows my hist’ry, - I am wrapt in myst’ry, - I am the She-ro - Of a penny novelette.’” - -“Well, I hope,” said the Tenderfoot, “you jolly well lammed into him -for such a piece of infernal cheek.” - -“Yes, I did,” she confessed. “One day I turned on him and boxed his -ears, and I’m bound to say he’s been very respectful ever since. It -was very amusing to be reminded of his existence when he turned up the -other day. He paid me all sorts of extravagant compliments; he seems to -hold himself responsible for any success I may have had.” - -“Nice of him.” - -“He says he has written me up for the past two years; and that when -he edits a paper of his own, and he’s quite made up his mind that it -won’t be long before he does, I can have my portrait in it as often as -I want.” - -“_My_ Lord!” - -“All very honestly meant,” laughed Mary Plantagenet. “It is very -charming of Alf--a _nom de guerre_, by the way. His real name is -Michael Conner, but now he’s Alf of the _Millennium_. And the other day -at our interview, when he came to talk of old times, somehow I couldn’t -help loving him.” - -“What, love--_that_!” - -“There’s something to love in everybody, my dear. It’s really very -easy to like people if you hunt for the positive--if that’s not a high -brow way of putting it! The other day when Alf began to talk of his -ambitions, and of the wife he had married, and of the little Alfs and -the little Alfesses, I thought the more there are of you the merrier, -because after all you are rather fine, you are good for the community, -and you make this old world go round. Anyhow we began as enemies, and -now we are friends ‘for keeps,’ and both Alf and I are so much the -better for knowing it.” - -“I wonder!” - -“Of course we are. And when Alf is a great editor, as he means to be, -and he is able to carry out his great scheme of founding a Universal -Love and Admiration Society, for the purpose of bringing out the best -in everybody, including foreign nations--his very own idea, and to my -mind a noble one--he has promised to make me an original member.” - -“A very original member!” The Tenderfoot scoffed. - -But sitting there in the eye of the morning, with the gentle leaves -whispering over his head, and the finest girl in the land by his side -drawing a fanciful picture of “Alf” on the gravel with the point of her -sunshade, he was not in the mood for mockery. The world was so full of -a number of things, that it seemed but right and decent to have these -large and generous notions. Let every atom and molecule that made up -the pageant of human experience overflow in love and admiration of its -neighbor. He was a dud himself, his dwelling-place was _en parterre_, -yet as heaven was above him and She was at his elbow, there was no -denying that the little man who had just passed out of sight had laid -hold somehow of a divine idea. - -Yes, the ticket for the future was Universal Love and Admiration, at -any rate for the heirs of the good God. Not a doubt that! He didn’t -pretend to be a philosopher, or a poet, but even he could see that -yonder little scug in the brown pot hat was a big proposition. - -“I wonder,” he mused aloud, “how the little bounder came to think of -_that_?” - -“He says it came to him in his sleep.” And the artist at his elbow -gave one final masterful curl to the amazing trousers of the latest -benefactor of the human species. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -EVERYTHING FOR THE BEST - - -I - -JACK glanced at the watch on his wrist. By the mercy of Allah there -were fifty minutes yet. A whole fifty minutes yet to stay in heaven. -And then.... - -Suddenly hard set by thoughts which had no right to be there he looked -up and away in the direction of Bridport House. - -“There they go!” He gave the pavement artist a little prod. - -“Who--goes--where?” - -“Cousin Blanche and Cousin Marjorie.” - -True enough! Sublimely unconscious of two pairs of amused eyes upon -them, Cousin Blanche and Cousin Marjorie were passing slowly by. As -usual at that hour they were riding their tall horses. And they became -their tall horses so remarkably well that they might have belonged to -the train of Artemis. In the saddle, at any rate, Cousin Blanche and -Cousin Marjorie looked hard to beat. - -“Now for your precious theory,” said the Tenderfoot with malice. -“Here’s your chance to hunt for the positive.” - -She fixed her eyes on the slowly-receding enemy. “Well, in the first -place, my dear, those old-fashioned habits become them marvelously.” - -“No use for that sort of kit myself,” growled the hostile critic. - -“Then they are so much a part of their horses they might be female -centaurs.” - -“And about as amusing as female centaurs.” - -“But we are hunting for the positive, aren’t we? We are trying ‘to -affirm something,’ as Alf would say. Now those two and their horses are -far grander works of art than anything that ever came out of Greece or -Italy. It has taken millions of years to produce them and they are so -perfect in their way that one wonders how they ever came to be produced -at all.” - -“You might say that of anything or anybody--if you come to think of it.” - -“Of course. I agree. And so would Alf. And that’s why universal love -and admiration are so proper and natural.” - -“Wait till you are really up against ’em and then you’ll see.” - -“The more I’m up against them--if I am to be up against them--the more -I shall love and admire them, not for what they are perhaps, but for -what they might be if only they’d take a little trouble over their -parts in this wonderful Play, which I’m quite sure the Author meant to -be so very much finer than we silly amateurs ever give it a chance of -becoming.” - -The sunshade began to scratch the gravel again, while Jack Dinneford -sighed over its owner’s crude philosophy. - -Presently he began to realize again that they were in a fool’s -paradise. Surely they were taking a climb down too much for granted. -Why should these hardshells give in so inexplicably? It was in the -nature of things for a flaw to lurk under all this fair-seeming. Only -fools would ever build on such a sublime pretense as Bridport House. -Was it rational to expect its denizens to behave like ordinary sensible -human people? - -In order to sidetrack his fears he turned again to watch the labors of -the pavement artist. The tip of a gifted sunshade was doing wonderful -things with the gravel. It had just evolved a _chef d’œuvre_, which -however was only apparent to the eye of faith. - -“Who do you imagine that is?” - -Imagination was certainly needed. It would not have been possible -otherwise to see a resemblance to anything human. - -“That is his lamp,” hovered the sunshade above this masterpiece. “That -is his truncheon. Those are his boots. That is his overcoat. And there -we have his helmet. And there,” the tip of the sunshade traced slowly, -“the noble profile of the greatest dear in existence.” - -At that he was bound to own that had the Park gravel been more -sensitive, here would have been a living portrait of Sergeant Kelly of -the X Division. And even if it was only visible to the eye of faith it -was pretext enough for honest laughter. - - “No one knows her hist’ry, - She is wrapt in myst’ry,” - -he quoted softly. - -It was quite true. Various zephyrs and divers little birds had -whispered the romantic fact in their ears long ago. But what did it -matter? It was but one plume more in the cap of the Magician, a mere -detail in that pageant of which Mystery itself is the last expression. - -There may have been wisdom in their laughter. At any rate it seemed to -give them a kind of Dutch courage for the ordeal that was now so near. -But a rather forced gayety did not long continue; it was soon merged in -a further piece of news which Jack suddenly remembered. - -“By the way,” he announced, “there’s more trouble at Bridport House. My -cousins, I hear, are going to live with Aunt Charlotte.” - -She was obliged to ask why, but he had to own that it was beyond his -power to answer her question. All that he knew was that his cousins -were “at serious outs” with their father, and that according to recent -information they were on the point of leaving the paternal roof. - -The Tenderfoot, however, in professing a diplomatic ignorance of a -matter to which he had indiscreetly referred, had only pulled up in -the nick of time. He knew rather more than he said. “There’s a violent -quarrel about Mrs. Sanderson,” was at the tip of his tongue, but -happily he saw in time that such words in such circumstances would -be pure folly. Nay, it was folly to have drifted into these perilous -waters at all; and in the face of a suddenly awakened curiosity, he -proceeded at once to steer the talk into a safer channel. - -[Illustration: “We mustn’t build castles,” she sighed, and the light -fringed her eyelids] - -After all, that was not very difficult. As they sat under the -whispering leaves, gazing a little wistfully at the pomp of a summer’s -day, heaven was so near that it hardly seemed rational to be giving -a thought to those who dwelt in spheres less halcyon. The previous -evening at six o’clock they had parted for ever in this very spot. But -a swift turn of Fate’s shuttle had changed everything. - -As now they tried to understand what had occurred, it was hard to keep -from building castles. An absurd old planet might prove, after all, -such a wonderful place. When you are four-and-twenty and in love, and -the crooked path suddenly turns to the straight, and the future is seen -through magic vistas just ahead, surprising things are apt to arise, -take shape, acquire a hue, a meaning. The light that never was on sea -or land is quite likely to be found south of the Marble Arch and north -of Hyde Park Corner. They were on the threshold of a very wonderful -world. What gifts were theirs! Health, youth, a high-hearted joy in -existence, here were the keys of heaven. Life was what they chose to -make it. - -Poetry herself clothed them as with a garment. But not for a moment -must they forget, even amid the dangerous joys of a rather wild -reaction, that all might be illusion. Voices whispered from the leaves -that as yet they were not out of the wood. Jack, it is true, was fain -to believe that the latest act of Bridport House implied a very real -change of heart. For all that, as the hour of Fate drew on, he could -not stifle a miserable feeling of nervousness. And Mary, too, in spite -of a proud surface gayety, felt faint within. The dream was far too -good to be true. - -“Of _course_ it’s a climb down,” said Jack, whistling to keep up his -courage. “Do you suppose Uncle Albert would have sent for us like this -unless he meant to chuck up the sponge?” - -“We mustn’t build castles,” she sighed, and the light fringed her -eyelids. - -“We’ll build ’em as high as the moon!” - -She shook a whimsical head. And then the goad of youth drove her to a -smile of perilous happiness. All sorts of subtle fears were lurking in -that good, shrewd brain of hers. They were on the verge of chaos and -Old Night--yet she had not the heart to rebuke him. - -The dread hour of one-thirty was now so very near, that it was idle -to disguise the fact that one at least of the two people on the Park -chairs had grown extremely unhappy. Mary was quite sure that a horrible -ordeal was going to prove too much for her. It was hardly less than -madness to have yielded in the way she had. But qualms were useless, -fears were vain. There was only one thing to do. She must set her teeth -and go and face the music. - - -II - -Punctual to the minute they were at the solemn portals of Bridport -House. And then as a servant in a grotesque livery piloted them across -an expanse of rather pretentious hall into a somber room, full of -grandiose decoration and Victorian furniture, a grand fighting spirit -suddenly rose in one whose need of it was sore. Mary was quaking in -her shoes, yet the joy of battle came upon her in the queerest, most -unexpected way. It was as if a magician had waved his wand and all -the paltry emotions of the past hour were dispelled. Perhaps it was -that deep down in her slept an Amazon. Or a clear conscience may have -inspired her; at any rate she had no need to reproach herself just -then. She could look the whole world in the face. Her attitude had been -sensitively correct; if other people did not appreciate that simple -fact, so much the worse for other people! - -A long five minutes they waited in that large and dismal room, a -slight flush of anxiety upon their faces, their hearts beating a -little wildly, no doubt. In all that time not a word passed between -them; the tension was almost more than they could bear. If Fate had -kept till the last one final scurvy trick it would be too horrible! -And then suddenly, in the midst of this grim thought, an old man came -hobbling painfully in. Both were struck at once by the look of him. -There was something in the bearing, in the manner, in the play of the -rather exquisite face which spoke to them intimately. For a reason -deeply obscure, which Jack and Mary were very far from comprehending, -the welcome he gave her was quite touching. It was full of a simple -kindness, spontaneous, unstudied, oddly caressing. - -Jack, amazed not a little by the heart-on-the-sleeve attitude of this -old barbarian, could only ascribe it to the desire of a finished man of -the world to put the best possible face on an impossible matter. Yet, -somehow, that cynical view did not seem to cover the facts of the case. - -In a way that hardly belonged to a tyrant and an autocrat, the old man -took one of the girl’s hands into the keeping of his poor enfeebled -ones, and was still holding it when his sister and his eldest daughter -came into the room. Both ladies were firm in the belief that this was -the most disagreeable moment of their lives. Still it was their nature -to meet things heroically, and they now proceeded to do so. - -The picture their minds had already formed of this girl was not -a pleasing one. But as far as Lady Wargrave was concerned it was -shattered almost instantly. The likeness between father and daughter -was amazing. She had, in quite a remarkable degree, the look of -noblesse the world had always admired in him, with which, however, he -had signally failed to endow the daughters of the first marriage. But -there was far more than a superficial likeness to shatter preconceived -ideas. Another, more virile strain was hers. The mettle of the pasture, -the breath of the moorland, had given her a look of purpose and fire, -even if the grace of the salon had yielded much of its own peculiar -amenity. Whatever else she might be, the youngest daughter of the House -of Dinneford was a personality of a rare but vivid kind. - -As soon as the Duke realized that the ladies had entered the room, -he gravely presented the girl, but with a touch of chivalry that she -simply adored in him. The little note of homage melted in the oddest -way the half-fierce constraint with which she turned instinctively to -meet these enemies. Sarah bowed rather coldly, but Aunt Charlotte came -forward at once with a proffered hand. - -“My sister,” murmured his Grace. In his eyes was a certain humor and -perhaps a spice of malice. - -For a moment speech was impossible. The girl looked slowly from one -to the other, and then suddenly it came upon her that these people -were old and hard hit. She felt a curious revulsion of feeling. Their -surrender was unconditional, and woman’s sixth sense told her what -their thoughts must be. They must be suffering horribly. All at once -the fight went out of her. - -In a fashion rather odd, with almost the naïveté of a child, she turned -aside in a deadly fight with tears, that she managed to screw back into -her eyes. - -It was left to Lady Wargrave to break a silence which threatened to -become bitterly embarrassing: “Come over here and talk to me,” she said -with a directness the girl was quick to obey. - -Lady Wargrave led the way to a couple of empty chairs near a window, -Mary following with a kind sick timidity she had never felt before, and -a heart that beat convulsively. What could the old dragon have to say -to her? Even now she half expected a talon. - -The Dowager pointed to a chair, sat down grimly, and then said -abruptly, “I hope you will be happy.” - -There was something in the words that threw the girl into momentary -confusion. The fact was a miracle had occurred and her bewilderment -was seeking a reason for it. Only one explanation came to her, and it -was that these great powers, rather than suffer Jack to depart, were -ready to make the best of his fiancée. There was not much comfort in -the theory, but no other was feasible. Place and power, it seemed, were -caught in meshes of their own weaving. And yet bruised in pride as she -was by a situation for which she was not to blame, the rather splendid -bearing of these old hard-bitten warriors touched a chivalry far down. -Deep called unto deep. At the unexpected words of the griffin, she had -again to screw the tears back into her eyes. And then she said in a -voice that seemed to be stifling her, “It’s not my fault. I didn’t -know.... I didn’t want this.... If you will.... If you will help me I -will do my best ... not ... to....” - -The eyes of the Dowager searched her right through. - -“No, you are not to blame,” she said judicially. “We are all going to -help you,” and then in a voice which cracked in the middle she added, -to her own surprise, “my dear.” - - -III - -At luncheon the girl had the place of honor at the right hand of his -Grace. It was a rather chastened assembly. The arrival of the cuckoo -in the nest was a fitting climax to Muriel. Both episodes were felt -to be buffets of a wholly undeserved severity; they might even be -said to have shaken a sublime edifice to its base. Not for a moment -had the collective wisdom of the Dinneford ladies connived at Muriel’s -Breadth, nor had it in any way countenanced the absurd fellow Jack in -his infatuation for a chorus girl. - -Simple justice, however, compelled these stern critics to own that -Bridport’s future duchess had come as a rather agreeable surprise. She -differed so much from the person they had expected. They couldn’t deny -that she was a personality. Moreover, there was a force, a distinction -that might hope to mold and even harmonize with her place in the table -of precedence. So good were her manners that the subtle air of the -great world might one day be hers. - -It amazed them to see the effect she had already had on their -fastidious and difficult parent. He was talking to her of men and -events and times past in a way he had not talked for years. He -discoursed of the great ones of his youth, the singers and dancers of -the ’Sixties when he was at the Embassy at Paris and ginger was hot in -the mouth. Then by a process of gradation he went on to tell his old -stories of Gladstone and Dizzy, to discuss books and politics and the -pictures in the Uffizi, and to cap with tales of his own travels an -occasional brief anecdote, wittily told, of her own tours in America -and South Africa. - -Sarah, Blanche, and Marjorie could not help feeling hostile, yet it -was clear that this remarkable girl had put an enchantment on their -father. While he talked to her the table, the room, the people in it -seemed to pass beyond his ken. Candor bred the thought that it was -not to be wondered at, her way of listening was so delightful. The -beautiful head--it hurt them to admit the fact yet there it was--bent -towards him in a kind of loving reverence, changing each phrase of his -into something rare and memorable by a receptivity whose only wish -was to give pleasure to a poor old man struggling with a basin of -arrowroot--that sight and the sense of a presence alive in every nerve, -a voice of pure music, and a face incapable of evil: was it surprising -that a spell was cast upon their sire? Take her as one would she was a -real natural force--an original upon whom the fairies had lavished many -gifts. - -The family chieftain was renewing his youth, but only Charlotte -understood why. In common with the rest of the world, Sarah, Blanche, -and Marjorie were to be kept in ignorance of the truth--for the present -at any rate. But already the Dinneford ladies had taken further -counsel of the sage of Hill Street, and upon her advice all thought -of secession from Bridport House had been given up. Reflection had -convinced Lady Wargrave, now in possession of the light, that the true -interests of the Family would be served by silence and submission. -After all, Mrs. Sanderson was an old and valued retainer; her integrity -was beyond question; her devotion and single-minded regard for their -father’s welfare ought not to be forgotten! - -Taking all the circumstances into account, it was in Aunt Charlotte’s -opinion, a case for humble pie. And to do the ladies no injustice they -were ready to consume it gracefully. Jack, after all, was quite a -distant connection; and what was even more important in their sight, -the girl herself was presentable. Their father, at any rate, made no -secret of the fact that he found her sympathetic. Nay, he was even a -little carried away by her. As the meal went on, his manner towards her -almost verged upon affection; and at the end, in open defiance of his -doctors, he went to the length of wishing her happiness in a glass of -famous Madeira. - - -IV - -At five minutes past three Mary and Jack awoke with a start from a -dream fantasy, to find themselves breathing the ampler air of Park -Lane. Even then they could not quite grasp the meaning of all that had -happened. Unconditional surrender indeed, yet so sudden, so causeless, -so mysterious. Why had this strange thing come to be? - -But just now they were not in a mood to question the inscrutable wisdom -of the good God. Behind the curtain of appearances the sun shone more -bravely than ever, the dust of July lay a shade lighter on the trees -across the road. No, there was really no need for Providence to give an -account of itself at that moment; the nature of things called for no -analysis. - -“I’ve fallen in love with that old man.” - -Even if Jack heard the words he was not in a position to offer comment -upon them, for he was in the act of summoning a taxi from the lee of -the Park railings. - -“Where shall we go?” - -“To the moon and back again?” - -And why not! It is not very far to the moon if you get hold of the -right kind of vehicle. But MX 54,906 proved on inspection hardly to -be adapted for the purpose; at any rate Jack came to the conclusion -after a mere glance at the tires that Hampton Court, via Richmond and -Elysium, would meet the case equally well. - - -V - -Meanwhile his Grace in his favorite chair in his favorite room, was -doing his best to envisage “The Outlook for Democracy,” with the aid -of the _Quarterly Review_. Of a sudden the clock on the chimneypiece -chimed a quarter past three, and he laid down an article perfect -alike in form, taste and scholarship, with the air of one who expects -something to happen. - -Something did happen. In almost the same moment, the housekeeper, Mrs. -Sanderson, came into the room. She carried a tray containing a glass, a -spoon, and a bottle. - -His Grace shook his head. “I’ve had a glass of Madeira.” - -“How could you be so unwise!” It was the gentle, half-smiling tone of -a mother who reproves a very dear but willful child. - -She measured the draught inflexibly and he drank it like a man. As -he returned the glass to the tray he sighed a little, and then with -a whimsical glance upwards he said slowly and softly, “She has her -mother’s brains.” - -As she looked down upon him, he saw the color darkening a strong and -beautiful face. “And her father’s eyes.” The warmth of her voice almost -stifled the words. - -For nearly a minute there was so deep a silence that even the clock on -the chimneypiece was lost in it. And then very slowly and gently, as -one who thinks aloud, he said, “I am trying to remember those words of -Milton.” He closed his eyes with a smile of perplexity. “Ah, yes, yes. -I have them now: - -“‘He for God only, she for God in him.’” - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - -On pages 43 and 51, Number Five Beaconsfield has been changed to Number -Five, Beaconsfield. - -On page 53, universed has been changed to unversed. - -On page 58, spirt has been changed to spirit. - -On page 59, réclamce has been changed to réclame. - -On pages 72 and 218, a period has been added to Mrs. - -On page 88, Majorie has been changed to Marjorie. - -On page 90, Majorie’s has been changed to Marjorie’s. - -On pages 97, 107 and 117, commonsense has been changed to common sense. - -On page 102, the single quote has been removed from America’s. - -On page 130, the single quote has been removed from Wren’s. - -On page 143, decidely has been changed to decidedly. - -On page 163, cause has been changed to course. - -On page 188, the single quote has been removed from Parington’s. - -On page 235, Panjandram has been changerd to Panjandrum. - -On page 239, efficiency has been changed to efficiently. - -On page 259, redoutable has been changed to redoubtable. - -On page 266, a closing double quote has been added to “Whom do you mean?. - -On page 267, familar has been changed to familiar. - -On page 274, financée has been changed to fiancée. - -On page 290, green-grocer’s has been changed to greengrocer’s. - -On page 302, undeservedly has been changed to undeserved. - -On page 305, a closing double quote has been added to the last sentence. - -All other hyphenation and variant/archaic spellings have been retained. - -Illustrations in the midst of a paragraph have been moved to avoid -interrupting the paragraph flow. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TIME SPIRIT *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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