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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-25 03:57:56 -0800 |
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diff --git a/old/69413-h/69413-h.htm b/old/69413-h/69413-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index a5b5610..0000000 --- a/old/69413-h/69413-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,14093 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html lang="en"> -<head> - <meta charset="UTF-8"> - <title> - Pamela Pounce, by Agnes and Egerton Castle—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> - <style> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} -hr.tiny {width: 10%; margin-left: 45%; margin-right: 45%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.full { width: 100%; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 0%; } -@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } - - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - -.tdl {text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;} -.tdr {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} -.tdc {text-align: center;} - -.pagenum { - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; - text-indent: 0; -} - -.indentright {margin-right: 7em;} - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 17.5%; - margin-right: 17.5%; -} - -.x-ebookmaker .blockquot { - margin-left: 7.5%; - margin-right: 7.5%; -} - -.bbox {border: 2px solid; padding: 1em;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} - -.ph1 {text-align: center; font-size: large; font-weight: bold;} - -div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; page-break-after: always;} -div.titlepage p {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 2em;} - -.xxlarge {font-size: 175%;} -.large {font-size: 125%;} - -.x-ebookmaker .hide {display: none; visibility: hidden;} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} - -.gap {padding-left: 3em;} - -.poetry-container {text-align: center;} -.poetry {display: inline-block; text-align: left;} -.poetry .verse {text-indent: -2.5em; padding-left: 3em;} -.poetry .first {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} -@media print { .poetry {display: block;} } -.x-ebookmaker .poetry {display: block;} - -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - margin-left: 17.5%; - margin-right: 17.5%; - padding: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - -</style> -</head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Pamela Pounce, by Agnes Castle</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. 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. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Pamela Pounce</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>A tale of tempestuous petticoats</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Authors: Agnes Castle</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em;'>Egerton Castle</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 23, 2022 [eBook #69413]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: David Garcia, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAMELA POUNCE ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter hide"><img src="images/coversmall.jpg" width="450" alt=""></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h1>PAMELA POUNCE</h1> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="bbox"> -<p class="center"><i>WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR</i></p> - -<hr class="full"> -<p>THE INCOMPARABLE BELLAIRS<br> -JOHN SENESCHAL’S MARGARET<br> -THE PRIDE OF JENNICO, <span class="smcap">Etc.</span></p> -<hr class="full"> -<p class="center"><i>HODDER AND STOUGHTON LIMITED</i></p> -</div></div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<p><span class="xxlarge">PAMELA POUNCE</span></p> - -<p class="center">A TALE OF<br> -TEMPESTUOUS PETTICOATS</p> - -<hr class="tiny"> -<p>BY<br> -<span class="large">AGNES & EGERTON CASTLE</span></p> -<hr class="tiny"> -<p><span class="large">HODDER AND STOUGHTON LTD.</span><br> -<span class="allsmcap">TORONTO</span> <span class="gap"> LONDON </span><span class="gap"> <span class="allsmcap">NEW YORK</span></span><br> -ST. PAUL’S HOUSE WARWICK SQUARE E.C.4</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">[v]</span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<table> - -<tr><td class="tdr" colspan="2"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Preface</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_ix"> ix</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Prologue</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_xiii"> xiii</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER I</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">How my Lady Kilcroney entered into Royal<br> -Service under the Shadow of the Italian<br> -Hat trimmed by Miss Pamela Pounce</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_17"> 17</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER II</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In which Miss Pamela Pounce is Ordered to<br> -Pack</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_47"> 47</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER III</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In which Miss Pamela Pounce, the Milliner’s<br> -Assistant, becomes Arbiter of Life and<br> -Death in High Society</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_58"> 58</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER IV</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Showing Storm Within and Without</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_79"> 79</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER V</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In which Miss Pamela Pounce demonstrates<br> -the Value of Virtue to her Family and<br> -her Friends</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_106"> 106</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER VI<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vi">[vi]</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In which my Lady Kilcroney Strikes a Match<br> -and Miss Pounce throws Cold Water on<br> -it</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_131"> 131</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER VII</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In which is Manifest the Hand of the Sainted<br> -Julia</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_152"> 152</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER VIII</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In which a Wonderful Bit of Luck comes<br> -out of Miss Pounce’s Bandbox for Somebody<br> -Else</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_162"> 162</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER IX</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In which Miss Pamela Pounce has done with<br> -Love</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_187"> 187</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER X</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In which Miss Pamela Pounce sets Three<br> -Black Feathers for Tragedy</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_202"> 202</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XI</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In which there is a Prodigious Scandal about<br> -Pink Flounces</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_227"> 227</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XII</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In which my Lady Kilcroney insists on the<br> -Duty of Morality</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_238"> 238</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XIII<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[vii]</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In which my Lady Kilcroney makes an Indelicate        <br> -Fuss</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_254"> 254</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XIV</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In which Kitty is more Incomparable than<br> -Ever</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_274"> 274</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XV</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In which the Mad Brat takes the Bit between<br> -her Teeth, but Miss Pamela Pounce<br> -Keeps Hold of the Reins</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_285"> 285</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XVI</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In which my Lady Kilcroney has the Last<br> -Word</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_313"> 313</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">[viii]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[ix]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">PREFACE</h2> -</div> - -<p>There can be no doubt that shedding her petticoats a -woman has shed much, if not all, of her femininity, till -she is now merely a person of an opposite sex. She is a -female; for nothing will ever make her a man, but -Woman (with a capital W), Woman with her charm, -her elusiveness, her mystery, her reserves, her virginal -withdrawals, her exquisite yieldings; she is that no -longer.</p> - -<p>How much of her queenship has she not given up with -her petticoats?</p> - -<p>At no time was Woman more thoroughly feminine, -more absolutely mistress of her own fascinations and -of the hearts of men, than in the eighteenth century; -preferably the latter half.</p> - -<p>That was a time when it may be said that no woman -could look ugly; that beauty became irresistible. Take -the period consecrated by the art of Sir Joshua Reynolds, -and of Romney; take the picture of the Parson’s -Daughter, by the latter artist; that little face, so piquante, -innocent, fresh, sly, mischievous, is nothing at all without -its cloud of powdered curls but a very ordinary -visage; almost common indeed! With its distinctive -coiffure, framing, softening, etherealising, giving depth -to the eyes and allurement to the smile; how irresistibly -delicious! How irresistibly delicious, too, is the mode -which exposes the young throat so modestly between -the soft folds of the muslin kerchief.</p> - -<p>Youth then, even without much beauty, is served to -perfection by the taste of the period. What of beauty -itself? Look at the portrait of the Duchess of Devonshire, -by Sir Joshua Reynolds, the famous one with the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">[x]</span> -big hat, where she is holding the dancing baby. There -is an answer more eloquent than any words can give.</p> - -<p>And, rarest thing in a fashion! it became age as -completely. Even elderliness emerged triumphant. I -vow that Mrs. Hardcastle, Mrs. Malaprop, Mrs. Primrose -are delightful figures of buxomness on any stage. Their -double chins assume a pleasant sort of dignity, overshadowed -by the curls and loops of their tremendous -coiffures. The dress with its panniers, its apron, its -general amplitude is peculiarly advantageous to the too, -too solid flesh of the matron.</p> - -<p>The mode of the moment has a singular effect on the -morals of the moment. Our emotions are more moulded -and coloured by our clothes than we are aware.</p> - -<p>It is quite certain that when a young lady went panniered -and patched, fichued and ruffled, powdered and -rouged, tripping on high heels, ready for the minuet, her -feelings went delicately with her, metaphorically garbed -in daintiness to match.</p> - -<p>And, when a gentleman of fashion was a Beau; when -his fine leg showed to its utmost in a silk stocking; when -his pampered hand was as elegant of gesture with a pinch -of snuff between falling ruffles as it was in whipping out a -small sword, he retained his masculine virility none the -less; but like the blade of that same small sword, was -cutting, polished, deadly, vicious even, all within the -measure of courtesy and refinement.</p> - -<p>The world has mightily changed since the days when -hearts beat under the folds of the fichu or against the -exquisite embroideries of the waistcoat. Sad divagations -then, as now, were taken out of the path of rectitude, -but they were taken with a rustle of protesting petticoats, -to the gallant accompaniment of buckled shoes or, more -romantic still, dashing top-boots.</p> - -<p>A tale of 1788 is necessarily a tale of petticoats.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="first">“A winning wave, deserving note</div> -<div class="verse">Of a tempestuous petticoat,”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>cries the poet of an earlier age. Femininity must needs<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">[xi]</span> -rustle and whisper, and curtsy and flounce through -every chapter.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>The collaborator whose name appears for the last time -on this title page, turned to the century of The Bath -Comedy and the subsequent and connected chronicles -as a kind of relaxation of the mind from what he most -hated: the ugliness of modern life. The realism which -sets itself to describe the material, the grosser aspect of -any emotion, the brutality that miscalls itself strength, -that forcing of the note of horror—which is no more -power than the beating of a tin can or the shrieking of a -syren is music—were abhorrent to him. He liked the -pretty period in spite of its artificialities; he liked the -whole glamour of the time; he liked its reticence and -its gaiety, its politeness, its wit, and its naughtiness and -its quaintness, because, as in an artistic bout of fencing, -it was all bounded by a certain measure of grace and -rule.</p> - -<p>The laughter he gave to these conceptions came, as -true laughter must, from a most innocent and wholesome -heart. It is this laughter which is his last legacy -to a sad, tangled, and rather ugly world.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Agnes Egerton Castle.</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xii">[xii]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">PROLOGUE</h2> -</div> - -<p>“<i>No man is hero to his valet</i>”; so runs the cynical -adage. But you can reverse the saying with reference -to the other sex. <i>Every woman is a heroine to her lady’s -maid</i>; it may not be true in all cases, but ’tis true enough -for any proverb.</p> - -<p>The romance of a lady’s own woman is centred in her -mistress. She will clothe her in finery with a greater joy -than if she were draping herself; rather than see her go -shabby she would wear sackcloth; she will hang over -the banisters, on a dinner-party night, to observe the -sit of her train as she sweeps downstairs on the arm of -some notable personage; she will lean out of the window -to watch her step into her sedan, and if there are Beaux -hovering and my Lady tosses her plumes and whisks her -panniers to proper advantage it is Abigail’s heart that -beats high with pride.</p> - -<p>Even Miss Lydia Pounce, own woman to my Lady -Kilcroney, a damsel remarkable from her earliest youth -for her tart and contradictious ways, who was verging on -elderliness now with the acidity and leanness peculiar to -the “born old maid,” would have laid down her life to -ensure that my Lady’s court gown should fit her trim -waist without a wrinkle, or that the pink silk stocking -that clothed her pretty leg was drawn to its proper skin-tight -limit.</p> - -<p>(Both the Incomparable Kitty and her Lydia were -exceedingly particular that these same stockings should -never be worn with the gross slovenliness that permitted -a sag. Not indeed that anything but the merest glimpse -of slender, arched feet, like the “little mice” of an -earlier poet’s fancy, peeping in and out from under the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</span> -flutter and foam of lace and silken flounce, was ever -displayed to the vulgar eye; but to know these niceties -complete in the smallest and most delicate detail was -necessary to the comfort of any self-respecting Woman. -And on this point Lydia was in thorough sympathy with -her mistress, as upon all others connected with the elegance -and <i>bon ton</i> of the most modish of Mayfair belles; -of that leader of Fashion, Feeling and Style which the -Lady Kilcroney undoubtedly was.)</p> - -<p>If Woman be a heroine to her lady’s maid, in what -light does she appear to her Milliner?</p> - -<p>Here we come upon debatable ground. At first sight -it would seem that the milliner, being dependent upon -her customers for her very existence, it must follow that -whatever her private opinion may be with regard to their -appearance and taste, she can have but one burning -desire: to please her patronesses. There is nevertheless -another side to the question.</p> - -<p>What Woman of intelligence but does not realise that -a Mode may make or mar her? How much may hang -on the droop of a feather; the tilt of a hat-brim; the -glow of a rose in cunning juxtaposition with the soft -carmine of a blushing cheek? Blue eyes may flash into -sudden significance under a knot of azure ribbon, that -had before languished their tenderest in vain. Saucy -innocence may triumph beneath a shepherdess wreath; -or tired charms kindle into new brilliancy stimulated by -the consciousness of the perfect inspiration. In fine, all -that life holds best is at the mercy of the mantua maker -where the Lady of Fashion is concerned. Let but a -clever business woman grasp this great and awful truth; -and she who combines the brain that can devise, the -taste that never fails, the acumen that knows no hesitation, -the finger that is at once light and firm, unerring -and ethereal, becomes to her employers a treasure beyond -the mines of Golconda!</p> - -<p>Such a treasure did Miss Pamela Pounce, with whom -these pages are concerned, prove herself to the noted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xv">[xv]</span> -Madame Mirabel of Bond Street. And such an influence, -far-reaching and subtle, did she exercise on the lives of -the <i>Elégantes</i> who consulted her, with the eager submission -and reverence of the believing Greek for his Oracles, -though with far other and comfortably practical results!</p> - -<p>Miss Pamela Pounce, Goddess of Modes, was <i>ipso facto</i> -Goddess of the Machine of Life, deciding, with a lucky -toss of ribbons or hitherto undreamt of combination of -fallals, the fate of her fair customers, and incidentally -that of their Beaux, their lovers and their husbands; -my Lady Kilcroney and her lazy, jolly life-loving Lord; -dark-browed Susan Verney, who would fain have bent -the whole world to her sway as she did her weary Baron; -Lady Anne, her sister, still fondly, foolishly in love with -her stalwart, countrified Squire, Philip Day; their -young sister, the last of the fair Vereker Ladies and the -naughtiest, with her tangled love-stories; Mr. Stafford, -the once famous Beau, proud of the startling beauty of -his excellent, dull, childish wife, and anxious that she -should flaunt it <i>à la mode</i> with the best of them; Sir -Jasper Standish, the sporting Baronet, who, bereaved of -his exquisite, clinging Julia, found himself entangled -beyond belief with Miss Pamela Pounce’s ribbons; the -noted young actress, Miss Falcon, known as “Fair -Fatality,” whose brief life drama was more tragic than -any she had enacted for the benefit of the public; the -plain Miss Vibart, who found beauty and love and happiness -all in a Pounce bandbox; Mistress Molly Lafone, -own sister—who would believe it?—to the pearl of -ingenuous womanhood, Prue Stafford, Molly Lafone -that minx, whom the members of my Lady Kilcroney’s -coterie were so unanimously leagued to suppress and -exclude, and who, in spite of their efforts contrived to -insinuate herself disastrously into all their combinations -(was it not under a wreath twisted by Pamela’s long -clever fingers that this elegant little adventuress came to -her most deserved catastrophe?)—there was not one of -them but came under her wand!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvi">[xvi]</span>But at the same time the arbiter of the fate of others, -in the shape of a very human young woman, guided the -shuttle of her own destiny, and wove a remarkably -pretty design for herself.</p> - -<p>Milliners, unlike Oracles and Sybils, have each their -personal human span with its joys and fears, pleasures, -pains and triumphs. Pamela’s romance ran like a cherry-coloured -thread through the warp and woof of those -other existences, so far above her, in which her profession -had involved her. To show the whole pattern, -light and dark, sparkling and deep-hued, flowered, dotted, -arabesqued, of this brocade of earthly life, the poor -<i>Modiste</i> must assume as important a place as that of her -clientele.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I</h2> - -<p class="ph1"><span class="smcap">How my Lady Kilcroney entered into Royal<br> -Service under the Shadow of the Italian Hat<br> -trimmed by Miss Pamela Pounce</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">While</span> Miss Pamela Pounce was serving her third year -as apprentice to the great art of Hat Confectionery, under -the ægis of no less a personage than the world-famous -Madame Eglantine of Paris—once “the little French -Milliner” of Bath—her aunt and benefactress, who had -placed her in these favourable circumstances, had begun -to taste the proudest triumph of her life.</p> - -<p>Miss Lydia Pounce was about to become own woman -to a Court lady! My Lady Kilcroney—to whom she had -so faithfully and ruthlessly devoted herself—from the -days when, as the Widow Bellairs, she first scintillated -in the world of fashion, to her present position of Viscountess—was -chosen by Her Majesty, Queen Charlotte, -to fill the post of Lady-in-Waiting to her own Sacred -Person.</p> - -<p>To enter Court circles had been the dream of Lydia’s -angular and ambitious breast. Her mistress’s gratified -vanity was a trifling emotion compared to the bursting -satisfaction which this upward step on the social ladder -afforded the maid. It is not too much to say that she -regarded herself in the light of a Prime Minister who has -successfully brought about some great political event, -and who is a far more important person than the Sovereign -whom he serves.</p> - -<p>It came to pass in this wise.</p> - -<p>His Most Gracious Majesty, King George III, had -been ordered to Cheltenham Spa for the waters by his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span> -physicians; his state of health was causing anxiety, -the extent of which was as yet quite unknown to -the bulk of his loyal subjects. Queen Charlotte, the -most devoted of spouses, of course determined to -accompany him; and the Royal party duly proceeded -to the Spa.</p> - -<p>It happened to be Lady Flora Dare-Stamer’s term of -attendance on Her Majesty, and that stout estimable -Lady-in-Waiting happened to be Lady Kilcroney’s very -close and dear friend. There was nothing remarkable, -perhaps, in the conjunction of these two happenings; -but it was indeed singular that Kitty Kilcroney should -happen to discover a delicacy in her son and heir which -necessitated an instant visit to the celebrated health -resort now so vastly honoured.</p> - -<p>These events having succeeded each other, nothing -more natural than that my Lady Kilcroney should invite -her “poor dear Flo” to a dish of tea and a chat at her -lodgings, to rest her of the fatigue consequent upon her -eminent but exhausting office.</p> - -<p>Though Lady Flora had made no secret to her intimates -of her intention to rid herself of her honours as -soon as might be, who so surprised as her dearest Kitty -to learn that she now believed her emancipation at -hand?</p> - -<p>“To tell you the truth, my dear,” said Lady Flo, -chewing a macaroon, “it’s not a job that suits me in the -least. ’Twould fit you vastly better.”</p> - -<p>“O, Lady Flo!” cried Kitty in accents of amazement. -“What a strange thought! I vow and declare -such an idea never crossed my mind. And, in truth, -’tis rank impossible. There are a hundred reasons, a -thousand reasons, why I am the last person likely to be -selected by Her Majesty. I am too young.”</p> - -<p>“Upon my word,” said her companion bluntly. “I -doubt if there’s so much between us, my dear, were it not -that I have run to fat. These macaroons are excellent. -’Tis like your genius to be so well served in lodgings.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span> -You’ve brought the best of your staff with you, I make -no doubt.”</p> - -<p>“And, O, my love! the difficulty of housing them! -There’s scarce a tradesman in the town that hath not a -servant of mine.”</p> - -<p>Kitty spoke with the careless self-importance of the -wealthy woman. And Lady Florence approved.</p> - -<p>“How right of you, my love, to insist on Comfort!” -Comfort was the first and last of her aspirations. “Aye, -I will have a little more cream. This whipped stuff—I -dare swear ’tis your idea to have it so lavishly flavoured -with the vanilla; vastly delicate. Your chocolate is as -incomparable as your agreeable self! But yours are not -the years of giddiness. I speak in all friendship, I beg -you to believe.”</p> - -<p>Kitty murmured in an absent voice, that she had married -her first—worthy Bellairs—a mere child, practically -out of the nursery.</p> - -<p>“Anyhow, my sweet Kilcroney, no woman who has -had two husbands can deny a certain amount of experience, -and upon rep,” with a rolling laugh, “I don’t -care who knows that I’m on the wrong side of thirty! -You must be pretty well advanced on the right side of -it?”</p> - -<p>“If you can call twenty-eight——”</p> - -<p>“Admit to twenty-eight, by all means!—nevertheless, -’tis an age of discretion. And Her Majesty——”</p> - -<p>“I understand——” said Kitty, balancing her teaspoon -on the rim of her handleless cup with a musing air—she -wondered in her soul if the excellent Lady Flo could -really be taken in by this pretence; if it were possible -she did not guess that she, Kitty Kilcroney, was longing, -grilling to step into her Court shoes—as if she cared -who knew that she was over thirty her last birthday, -and warming but to riper beauty as the months slipped -by!</p> - -<p>“’Tis not,” she said aloud, with a pout, “that I would -decline a post about our gracious Queen, if ’twere offered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span> -me, God forbid! I am too loyal a subject. But I understand -the German woman, that frumpish creature, the -Keeper of the Robes—what’s her barbarous name?—hath -the royal ear, and will not suffer anything young or -comely, if she can help it, about Her Majesty—(And -there’s one for you, my Lady Flo, with your right and -your wrong side of thirty!) ’Tis a vast of pity you will -not continue to occupy a position so honourable and so -becoming to you.”</p> - -<p>“To tell you the truth,” said Lady Flora unmoved, -helping herself to another macaroon, “’tis the standing -that undoes your poor friend! Conceive it, my love, -full fourteen stone, and on my feet hours every day. -Hours did I say? Centuries. Look hither!” She -thrust out a large sandalled foot, which certainly had a -plethoric appearance. “’Tis swollen beyond belief. I -acknowledge my stoutness. I made but little count of it, -for I’ve been a prodigious comfortable woman along of it. -’Tis a cushioned life. It pads the mind as it were. I -assure you, I believe myself to have been, only some -three months ago, the most good-tempered woman in -England. And now! ’Pon rep, I am growing peevish! -Fie upon it—stout and peevish! Was there ever such a -combination?”</p> - -<p>As if to contradict her own statement she again gave -way to her jolly laugh. Kitty, watching her through -long eyelashes, sighed.</p> - -<p>“But what can induce you to think of me, my Lady -Flo? Poor little retiring me?”</p> - -<p>“Pray my dear, do not play the Molly Lafone with -me!”</p> - -<p>Molly Lafone! Such a comparison was too comic! -Kitty laughed, and dropped her not very successful -mask.</p> - -<p>“Upon my word, then, I believe it would suit me! -But how can it be accomplished? I am not one to push -myself forward. My Lord Kilcroney is an Irishman and -no courtier, and their Majesties have their own favourites;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span> -and indeed to begin with, I doubt whether you will find -it so easy to resign.”</p> - -<p>“Resign, Kitty! Resign? No, dear Kilcroney, I -am on the point of being graciously dismissed. It took -some management, but I was desperate. Another month -of this, I said, and Mr. Stamer will be able to look out for -a new wife—which he would do, my dear love, across my -very coffin—’twas yesterday sennight then, I made up -my mind. I took my best rose-point flounce—by the -mercy of heaven it was just returned from the lace-menders, -neatly packed in tissue tied with ribbon and a -scent bag within, as elegant a parcel as you could wish -to see!—and I sought Mrs. Schwellenberg—aye, that -same!—and says I, ‘For mercy’s sake, give me a chair. -My poor feet will scarce support me?’ At which she -looks as sour as a crab, and quoth she: ‘We all have -veet, Lady Florence’ (you know her vile accent), ‘but -we forget dem in our great honour and brivilege,’ ‘Would -God I could forget mine,’ thinks I. But she glances at -the parcel in my hand: ‘Take a zeat,’ she says with a -roll of her old eye. ‘Ah, my good Frau,’ says I to -myself, ‘you may look, but you shan’t clutch yet a -bit!’”</p> - -<p>Lady Florence laughed reminiscently, and Kitty -screamed:</p> - -<p>“Never tell me you gave the old Dutch villain your -rose-point flounce!”</p> - -<p>“And what would be the good of a rose-point flounce -to me, when I should be dropped dead in the Queen’s -apartment, like any hackney jade? My love, I showed -that ancient toad my two feet—and I vow toad is a good -name for her, for she hath the countenance and the -croak of her own pet frogs—I showed her my feet, and I -lamented my stones of weight. ’Pon rep! I gave myself -sixteen, I did indeed, and what with the swelling, I -looked ’em! ‘Let me confide in you,’ I cries, ‘if ever I -saw a truly noble soul writ on a human brow, ’tis on -yours! My frame,’ I cries, ‘is not equal to my devotion.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span> -My ankles will not support the loyalty of my heart! ’tis -not that I should grudge passing away in such service,’ -I cries, turning up my eyes—You could not have done it -better, Kitty!—‘but were I to faint in those sacred -precincts, were I to pass away in that august Presence, -Her Majesty would be justly annoyed. Dr. Jebb has -warned me. Alas! look at me. Am I not fat?’ ‘Vat -you are,’ says she, ‘but so am I.’ Well, then, my love, I -gave her a peep of the lace, and she began to dribble at -the corners of her mouth, and I knew the trick was done! -‘If I speak to Her Majesty,’ says she, and she fingering -my rose-point, ‘I vonder vot substitute I could suggest. -Her Majesty she does not like the changes, and——’ -And then, I thought of you, Kitty.”</p> - -<p>“I wonder why, in the name of Heaven!” cried this -lady tartly.</p> - -<p>“Your feet won’t swell, my love.”</p> - -<p>“I need not accept,” quoth Kitty, pinching her -lips.</p> - -<p>“Kitty, if you play your cards well, the post will be -offered to you while their Majesties are here at Cheltenham. -’Tis all settled with the Schwellenberg. Do you -not know,” said Lady Florence, pushing the dish with a -single remaining macaroon upon it, virtuously from her, -“that Susan Verney is making all the interest in the -world for the honour? But she was rude to the Schwellenberg -one day—you know poor Susan’s way!—when -they met in my drawing-room at Queen’s Lodge, and the -Schwellenberg will have none of her!”</p> - -<p>“Say no more!” cried Kitty, and fires shot from her -eyes.</p> - -<p>“My love, I believe I have served you,” said Lady -Florence, replying to the eloquence of that glance. “‘My -royals are not bartial to the Irish,’ said Schwellenberg. -‘Ah, but Madam,’ I says. ‘My Lady Kilcroney is not -Irish. She is true-born English, and has vast wealth—widow -of an Indian Nabob—vast wealth and a generous -heart!—And you admire the lace, Madam?’ says I,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span> -‘in the very truth I was hoping I might venture to offer -it to you, for ’tis lace that should be worn at court, -Madam, and in no other place—and as I mentioned to -you, my Lady Kilcroney and her Lord have practically -severed all ties with Ireland. If you would accept the -flounce, Madam, on my retirement (I think there is a -narrow edging of rose-point to match).’ ‘I will tink of -what you say about my Lady Kilcroney,’ croaks she. -Am I not a good friend, Kitty?”</p> - -<p>She looked at Kitty with such beaming kindness that -all this latter’s caprices vanished; she cast herself affectionately -on Lady Florence’s huge bosom and voted that -she was indeed the best and dearest!</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>It was agreed between them before the large and -jovial lady left the pleasant apartments overlooking the -meadows, that she would call early next morning, and -report the result of Mrs. Schwellenberg’s “tinking,” since -she had been given to understand that Her Majesty would -deliver her gracious dismissal that evening, during the -process of the Royal disrobing.</p> - -<p>“You must hold yourself ready, my sweet child, to be -at any point considered suitable along Her Majesty’s -path during the next few days. By the looks Her -Majesty casts on me I am convinced Schwellenberg has -kept her word, and prepared the ground ’ere we left -Queen’s Lodge. Well, she knew she would not get the -rose-point otherwise.”</p> - -<p>Kitty stood reflecting in the bow-window long after -Lady Florence’s chairmen had reeled away with their -burden towards Lord Fauconberg’s small house on the -hill, which had been placed at their Majesties’ disposal. -It could not be said that she had quite so altogether consuming -a desire for the post of Lady-in-Waiting since -hearing Lady Florence’s talk and gazing on those swollen -feet, but, rather than that Susan Verney—dark, overbearing -Susan!—should have the advantage, Kitty would -have stood on burning ploughshares. She had, thank<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span> -Heaven, as good health as any lady in the kingdom, a -back that was never tired, and a fund of humour and -good humour that made her equal to most trials. Moreover -she had a fighting spirit, and, she flattered herself, -a charm of her own. If she did not get the better of -Schwellenberg on the one hand, and ingratiate herself -with Royalty on the other, then she was no longer Incomparable -Bellairs!</p> - -<p>Her agreeable reflections were broken in upon by the -entrance of my Lord Kilcroney.</p> - -<p>Now, hot-blooded, red-headed Irishman as he was, it -was the rarest thing in the world for this nobleman to be -seriously out of temper with anyone, let alone with the -wife of his bosom; but, as he flung himself into Kitty’s -hired parlour, he was in as irate a mood as he had ever -indulged in, and that with his Lady.</p> - -<p>“Here’s a pretty business!” quoth he, and cast his -hat on the table in the middle of the room, very nearly -dislodging the glass dome which protected a gold filigree -basket containing the most purple plums, the reddest -strawberries, the bluest grapes that ever artist in wax -produced. “Here’s a pretty to-do!” cried Denis -Kilcroney.</p> - -<p>“There seems indeed to be a to-do!” retorted -Kitty. She wheeled round from the window. “But -you will condescend to explain the cause perhaps, my -Lord?”</p> - -<p>“So I hear you’ve got a place about the court, me -darling,” said Denis, plunging into sarcasm, with a -flushed countenance. “’Pon me soul, ’tis the grand -lady you’re going to be entirely! ’Tis the back seat -your husband will have to be taking. Glory be to -God, what’s a husband? And an Irish one into the -bargain!”</p> - -<p>“Pray, my Lord,” cried Kitty, all eagerness. “Where -have you heard the news? For, as I’m a living woman, -’tis news to me.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! go on out of that.” My Lord was certainly very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span> -angry, and more than usually Hibernian. “Didn’t that -fat baggage come straight out of these doors? Didn’t -she put that full moon face of hers out of the sedan -window and bawl to her men to stop, and them with -the sweat dripping off them, God help them! And ‘oh,’ -she calls, ‘My Lord Kilcroney,’ she cries, ‘’tis quite -settled,’ she says. ‘And your Kitty to take my post -about Her Majesty.’ Why, all Cheltenham could have -heard her.”</p> - -<p>“Tush!” Kitty’s peach-tinted countenance, agog -with delight, fell. “Is that all? Why——” she was -about to expound to Denis with some firmness the folly -of giving way to passion over an event that was still in -the uncertain future, at the same time conveying to him -her clear intention to leave no stone unturned towards -its accomplishment, when her little black page appeared -at the open door, grinning at the sounds of dispute, and -announced: “Mistress Lafone.” And if the sight of -dusky innocence amused was exasperating to my Lady, -what can be said of the feelings aroused by the smile of -minxish artfulness?</p> - -<p>“Good heavens,” cried Kitty. “And what brings -you to Cheltenham, if one may ask?”</p> - -<p>“Good-morrow, my sweet Kilcroney.”</p> - -<p>This familiarity!</p> - -<p>“Good-morrow, Madam.” Kitty swept a curtsy to -mark her distance, the while my Lord kissed the creature’s -hand, positively as if he liked doing so, and him but out -of such a tantrum as never was.</p> - -<p>“And what should bring me to Cheltenham—(no, -my Lord, pray. I prefer the little stool. I do indeed)—why -should not poor little me be here with the -rest?”</p> - -<p>“Why, indeed?” growled Kilcroney.</p> - -<p>“And what has brought you, my Lady, if one may -inquire?”</p> - -<p>“She thought little Denis looked pale!” cried my -Lord, and gave a great guffaw.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span>“You may laugh, Madam,” said Kitty, as Mrs. Lafone -tinkled delicately. “There are feelings which only a -mother can understand.”</p> - -<p>Mistress Lafone was childless.</p> - -<p>“One excuse will serve as well as another.” My -Lord let himself fall into a chair that creaked threateningly -beneath his weight.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I seek for no excuse,” quoth Molly Lafone. -Crouching on the low stool, she had a singular air of -astuteness, in spite of her fostered childishness. “I -never can understand why people should not tell the -truth.” She raised arch eyes towards my Lord, while -Kitty sat with the majesty of an Eastern idol, and had -not as much as the quiver of an eyelash.</p> - -<p>“I’m here to curry favour with royalty,” she laughed -again sweetly, “like the rest of us!”</p> - -<p>The brazenness of it! My Lord guffawed again. He -certainly was in a most unpleasant mood.</p> - -<p>“Huthen. I hope you’ll be as successful as my Lady -there!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! My Lady Kilcroney!...”</p> - -<p>“Sure, isn’t it the surprise of her life.” Kilcroney -once again waded heavily in sarcasm. “She hadn’t as -much as the faintest notion such a thing could happen -to her—had you, me Lady? She hadn’t as much as -opened her mouth for the plum”—it was perhaps the -purple artifice on the table that suggested the simile—“but -didn’t it drop into it? It’s going to be Lady-in-Waiting -she is, in place of my Lady Flo——”</p> - -<p>“Oh! my Lord, say you so? Says he right, my -dearest Lady Kilcroney? ’Tis the most splendid, the -most monstrous delightful news I’ve heard this long -time. Oh!” cried Mrs. Lafone, clasping and wringing -her hands in an ecstasy. “May not your little Molly -rejoice with you?”</p> - -<p>“You are vastly disinterested,” said Kitty.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Lafone gave her tinkling laugh.</p> - -<p>“Ah, my Lady—indeed, my Lord, I have said that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span> -I am frank. Dearest Lady Kilcroney, I will be frank—If -I could obtain some little post—the teeniest, weeniest -little post at court——”</p> - -<p>But Kitty interrupted, bouncing out of her stateliness.</p> - -<p>“Pray, Mrs. Lafone, for what post should you consider -yourself qualified about the august person of our gracious -Queen?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! My Lady Kilcroney, the least little post in all -the world! Hath not the Queen appointed a plain Miss -Burney reader? I believe I could very well be reader. -Mr. Lafone says I have a silver tone in my voice, and -our curate at home once told me——”</p> - -<p>“Tush, the celebrated Miss Burney hath qualifications, -child, which you in your foolishness fail to -appreciate.”</p> - -<p>“Yet she is but a music teacher’s daughter, Madam,” -said Molly with a mighty sigh. She dropped her white -eyelids and turned a green glint on my Lord, and sighed -again. “Or if not actually about her Majesty—who -am I, indeed, to aspire to that Presence?—some office -about yourself, dear Lady Kilcroney. I would be -your secretary, your Lady-in-waiting, your devoted -attendant!”</p> - -<p>“This is folly,” cried Kitty. “I am by no means -appointed to my Lady Flo’s post, and if I were—well, -to be frank with you, Lafone, since you like frankness so -much—you are the last person in the world I should -ever be instrumental in bringing to court. Heavens!” -cried Kitty, gazing upwards at the low ceiling, as if she -saw through it into the celestial regions. “What discretion, -what faultless propriety of conduct, what a -delicate sense of responsibility, what a blameless record -should be demanded of one who would enter that sacred -circle!...”</p> - -<p>(It was the glint of her visitor’s green eye at -my Lord which gave this stern decision to Kitty’s -tones.)</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span>Here, quite unexpectedly, and with admirable effectiveness, -large tears rose in Mrs. Lafone’s eyes and rolled -down her cheeks, without in the least disturbing the -prettiness of her pointed visage. My Lord cast a -glance from one to the other; it was lit with a tender -sympathy as it fell on this touching impersonation -of grief, and kindled with reproach as it shot to -Kitty.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Lafone gave a small sob.</p> - -<p>“Your sweet lady,” she said, now audaciously addressing -her male champion, “has ever been a friend in -need. ’Tis for that, that I have ventured, my Lord, -that I have ventured to come to her to-day, hearing—yes! -I will own it, I already knew that she was like to -be next in the Queen’s choice. I made the journey -hither in the hopes—’tis for no reason of petty vanity, -no mere envious ambition——” (Thus the minx) ... “oh! -my Lord, I scarce know why, I have ever been -sadly persecuted. I am the victim of evil tongues!... My -reputation has been assailed....”</p> - -<p>“Ha!” said Kitty. The ejaculation leaped from -her.</p> - -<p>Molly Lafone produced another silver sob. “Quite -unfoundedly, I do assure you! My conscience is spotless, -my Lady Kilcroney, spotless!”—she caught Kitty’s -eye, and went on in a humble voice—“in this instance! -Indeed, my Lady—but Mr. Lafone—I am sadly maligned, -he is suspicious, he——” Here the unfortunate young -woman became quite incoherent in her demonstrations -of distress. She wrung her white hands with extra -pathos. Another large tear flowed, and a volley of little -sobbing, disjointed phrases accompanied it, “domestic -happiness—ignorance of the world—poor little me, -country-bred and guileless—salvation or despair!”</p> - -<p>In the midst, Kitty rose, returning to majesty.</p> - -<p>“I must put a stop to a scene so useless and so painful. -How is it possible, Madam, you do not see that every -word you utter but marks the impossibility of your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span> -request? Pray, my Lord, see Mistress Lafone to her -chair.”</p> - -<p>“Kitty!” cried Kilcroney, springing to his feet. He -had not thought it of her, to requite these open-hearted -confidences with insult; to turn so trusting and touching -a creature into the street; a lady—an old friend! “Pray -Mistress Lafone, let us be offering you a dish of tea,” -cried he.</p> - -<p>There are days when everything goes askew. Kitty’s -great footman marched into the room and presented his -mistress with a letter which, he said, had just been brought -by a riding messenger. Kitty took it from the salver -with all the air of one glad of the diversion, but no sooner -had she perused it than she exclaimed, in tones of such -consternation, that my Lord leant forward and took it -out of her hand. He exclaimed in his turn, but in accents -of pleasure.</p> - -<p>“Why, what is this? Sure, Alanna, there is naught -here to upset you, ’tis the best of good fortune on the -contrary! Here’s your sweet friend, my Lady Mandeville, -actually at Malvern and proposing to drive over -and spend the day with you to-morrow, bringing her -little rogue to play with ours.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, this is intolerable,” cried Kitty, “this is past -bearing! Bid the messenger wait. Good heavens, do -I not hear him riding away?—Call him back, my Lord, -call him back! On no account must my Lady Mandeville -be permitted to visit me to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>My Lord stood rooted to the spot, and the veins -on his forehead swelled. Kitty rushed to the window -and hailed vigorously; the rhythmic footfalls of a -horse receding at slow pace along the cobble stones -was, on a sudden, altered to the clatter of a returning -trot.</p> - -<p>“Damnation!” cried my Lord. “This passes all!”</p> - -<p>Mistress Lafone had stopped the wringing of hands -and the production of tears, and was all malicious -interest.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span>Kilcroney had entered into a towering passion. He -protested that it was the most monstrous low thing, -that he forbade my Lady to behave so base to her friend.</p> - -<p>“Tare an’ ’ounds!” cried he, “if it wasn’t ashamed -you were, and that, not a minute ago, to be enjoying the -finest hospitality in the world, the kindest, the most -open-hearted, ’tis not ashamed you should be to return a -thrifle of it! Shame!” ejaculated Denis. “Shame! -’tis on the other leg. Gad, ’tis the shameful bit of meanness -you’d be practising and ’tis ashamed I am of you -meself (that I should live to say it). Your best friend! -And all for what? For what if ye please? For the -favour of them that never as much as acknowledged -your existence. ’Pon me soul, rather than wound the -feelings of that angel upon earth, that fair, fond, gentle, -noble creature——” My Lord’s voice cracked. “I’d -see the whole of Windsor, and Kew to boot, tumble into -the Liffey.”</p> - -<p>Kitty, white under her delicate smears of rouge, sat -down at her writing-table with the most sublime air of -offended virtue, but the hand that dipped the pen into -the ink shook, and there were tears in the voice which -presently declared that if ever there was woman here -maligned by her own husband, it was my Lady Kilcroney: -she who had not liked to disturb her Lord, but who had -nevertheless noticed a red spot behind their darling little -Denis’s ear that very morning; which spot, as every one -who was a mother knew, might very well betoken no less -a malady than the measles, which malady, being highly -infectious to young children, she, as a mother, now felt -it her duty to put off her cherished Lady Mandeville -and the adored little Impington to a more auspicious -day.</p> - -<p>“Spot!” interrupted my Lord, with a roar between -derision and wrath, and</p> - -<p>“Spot?” cooed Mistress Lafone, now letting herself -go openly to insolence. “My dearest Lady Kilcroney, -you are too droll!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span>There was contempt written on the countenances of -the pair so odiously conjoined against Kitty; neither -of them being subtle enough to see that my Lady was -content with any excuse, so long as it flung a veil of -elegance over her set purpose.</p> - -<p>This incomparable woman recovered herself, rose, -summoned Pompey, and sent him forth with her letter -to my Lord Mandeville’s groom. She watched its delivery, -through the window, and having beheld the man start -off again, returned to the centre of the room, made in -silence a profound curtsy, which included her Lord and -her visitor, and sailed forth, closing the door carefully -behind her.</p> - -<p>My Lord let himself fall again into the arm-chair, and -once more this article of furniture protested with ominous -creaks and cracks.</p> - -<p>“There’s not a stick in the place, bejabers, that isn’t -as rotten as pears. ’Pon my word,” grumbled Denis -Kilcroney, “I wish the plaguey waters had never been -discovered, I do indeed; ’tis a poor thing when a man’s -own son and heir is made a weapon against him, and him -but turned of three. ‘Little Denis is pale, and we must -to Cheltenham. And we’ll lie at Lady Mandeville’s, -which is on our way, my love’ (and it thirty miles out, -taking the back and the forth of it). ‘And our little Denis -will have a playfellow, ’twill be so vastly good for him. -Little Impington and he will be comrades.’ And scarce -are we settled at Impington Court with as good entertainment—aye—and -as generous (’tis the cellar of the world -my Lord Mandeville has, and ’tis as free with it he is—troth, -as I’d be meself if my Lady’d let me, and I can give -him no finer character!) No sooner are we settled, and -scarce a cork drawn ye may say, but ’tis ‘Little Impington -is too rough for our darling Denis. He will teach him ill -ways, he will do him a hurt. And Impington Court is a -thought too low for the child’s health. And we must -move on to Cheltenham, my love, or there will not be a -lodging to be had.’ And you should have seen the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span> -farewells, the clingings, the embracings, and the tears, -and heard the promises. ‘We shall meet again soon, my -dearest, dearest Rachel. I vow I’ll not be parted from -the most cherished of my friends!’ And now ’tis: ‘Keep -away—little Denis hath a spot!’ To be sure, our dearest -Rachel must not cast a blight over my Lady’s Court -prospects.”</p> - -<p>“But why, pray you, why, my Lord Kilcroney, should -my Lady Mandeville cast a blight? Is she not in the -Court favour?”</p> - -<p>Mistress Molly’s tones were as insinuating as the fillet -of sweetness that issues from a flute; nevertheless, Denis, -starting from his black mood, gave her a sudden odd -look.</p> - -<p>“Prithee, why, my Lord?”</p> - -<p>Kitty was in the right of it. The little jade was as -false as loaded dice! As if every one did not know poor -Rachel’s story; how she had been a Quaker and an -actress, and my Lord Mandeville’s mistress before she -had been his wife; and how, save for that one stain, -which, indeed, had been the fall of a pure woman -piteously and devotedly in love, she had ever shone -in a wicked world, the noblest example to her -sex.</p> - -<p>Mistress Lafone caught my Lord’s look upon her and -deemed it time to depart. Without waiting, therefore, -for his reply to her question, she feigned horror at the -lateness of the hour, and bustled away from the Kilcroney -lodgings, malcontent with her visit, the more so that my -Lord Kilcroney brought a wooden countenance and a -dry manner to the very hall door.</p> - -<p>She went forth down the single street and across the -meadows; for her rooms were in an out-of-the-way -cottage, far from the fashionable quarter patronised by -the well-to-do. Mrs. Lafone’s fortunes were indeed at a -low ebb. Her elderly, niggardly husband had vowed -some time ago that he would pay no more debts for her, -and he was keeping his vow. In her efforts at self-extrication,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span> -Mistress Molly, not having a scrupulous -delicacy of conduct, had become further considerably -entangled. A scandal threatened which might be the -undoing of her. And there was my Lady Kilcroney not -only declining to help her, but as good as turning her out -of the house!</p> - -<p>Molly Lafone was sharp of scent as a weasel. It was -unpleasantly clear to her that the irate great lady was -determined to seize the first opportunity of cutting her -altogether; and when my Lady Kilcroney, leader of -society as she was, cast her off, she would be lost indeed! -She had no thought in her breast, as she walked along -the road between the flat fields, but the longing to pay -Kitty out.</p> - -<p>The way was deserted. Evening shadows were -lengthening across the mellowness of the sun-steeped -plain. Molly Lafone slackened her pace. Why, indeed, -should she hurry back to the stuffy little room where she -could afford herself no better supper than bread and -milk?</p> - -<p>Truly, if there are angels who reward the virtuous, -there must be little demons who provide dainties for -those who serve the ways of evil! There, just at her -feet, shining quite golden in the rays of the setting sun, -lay a letter.</p> - -<p>It lay so that its superscription was visible, and Molly -could hardly believe her eyes when she read in Kitty’s -writing the words: “For the hand of my Lady, the -Countess Mandeville.”</p> - -<p>“The careless fellow,” said she, “he’s dropped it from -his belt as he jogged along. Pshaw, how I hate a clumsy -fool!”</p> - -<p>Then she laughed shrilly. “My Lady Mandeville will -never get her Kitty’s affectionate answer, nor hear how -little Denis hath a spot, and she will come driving in -to-morrow to hang herself and her tarnished name round -Kitty’s neck for all Cheltenham to see, under the nose of -the virtuous Queen Charlotte. That is very well done!”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span> -cried Molly. “That is a very fit punishment for such -base intentions. I am very glad.”</p> - -<p>And lest anyone should be busybody enough to pick -up the dropped letter and forward it to its destination, -which would be a sad interference with the just action of -Providence, Mistress Lafone picked it up herself and -minced it into small pieces as she walked along towards her -cottage lodging. She had quite a good appetite for her -bread and milk that night.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>It had been my Lady Kilcroney’s intention to keep -her cherished little Denis in his cot, for the space of at -least a day, for indeed there was more than one red mark -on the satin of his small, plump body, and Kitty vowed -it was of a piece with the rest of my Lord’s brutality to -declare that those who leave their own homes for the -discomforts of lodgings must expect the occasional flea. -But on receipt of a letter sent round by my Lady Flora’s -woman, she promptly altered her plans, and ordered the -protesting cherub to be arrayed in his best robe-coat -covered with fine muslin, and his white satin hat with -feathers.</p> - -<p>My Lord, as soon as his infant’s roars had been soothed -by candies, picked up the letter which Kitty had dropped -on the floor in her hurried exit to her bed-chamber; and, -while his Lady was alternately pealing at her bell and -shouting for Lydia, without compunction read it.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“<i>My Dearest Lady Kilcroney: ’Tis all arranged. -I consider my freedom well purchased at the price of the -rose-point flounce, and the service to a friend, no less, by -the trimmings to match. Her Majesty received me in her -closet last evening, and the matter was settled quick. I -must confess, dearest Kitty, with all the</i> veneration <i>and</i> -love (these words were heavily underlined) <i>that I cherish -for her August Person, I did feel it hard to find that my -poor feet were represented as the dropsy. Dropsy, my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span> -love. And I but turned of thirty! ‘You should have -warned me,’ said Her Majesty, ‘that you were suffering -from a disease.’ ‘Ma’am,’ said I, ‘if disease there is’—(I -was afraid to deny it, dear Kitty, lest the fetters should -not be struck off my aching ankles)—‘’twas contracted in -Your Majesty’s service.’ And now if my Kilcroney has -a taste for gilded slavery (though there’s less gilding than -you would believe), let her be at the entrance of the pump -room, to receive Her Majesty at the head of the other lady -visitors, on her first visit thither this very morning at -eleven o’clock. The Gentlemen-in-Waiting are informing -the other notabilities of the town, and Her Majesty is prepared -for the little ceremony which she desires shall have -the appearance of an Impromptu, it being her wish to -avoid state during the Royal Visit and not to be incommoded -by the crowd. If your little Denis were to offer a bunch of -roses, it would, I think, please the Queen, who likes to see -ladies occupied of their children and is interested in any -who are about the age of the Princess Amelia. From -what Mrs. Schwellenberg—oh! Kitty, to think of that -toad festooned about with my lace—hath wrote to me -(thank God we have left the</i> frog-fancier <i>behind at Windsor) -I understand you can consider the appointment as good -as made——</i>”</p> -</div> - -<p>The letter dropped from Kilcroney’s hand. His good-natured -face (for in spite of tantrums he was to the core -a man of good nature), clouded with genuine dismay. -It looked as if the plaguey business, which he had -regarded in the light of a mere game, was like to turn -to earnest.</p> - -<p>Why, in the name of Heaven, a woman with all the -world could give her, and a devoted husband besides, -should break up her family life for the pleasures of an -annual three months’ slavery—Lady Florence had well -named it—passed his comprehension.</p> - -<p>“Nay, Lydia,” Kitty’s voice was uplifted in the other -room, “take back the tabby; aye, and the satin cloak<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span> -from Madame Mirabel’s. I have thought better of it, -child. Put away the Eglantine new hat with the -feathers. I will wear muslin and a plain straw. I wish -to Heaven,” cried Kitty pettishly, “that there was a -milliner in the Kingdom who could run up a hat -to suit a lady’s eyelashes or the tilt of her nose outside -Paris.”</p> - -<p>“There’s the Italian straw we bought last time we was -staying over there at Madame the Duchess’s,” said Lydia -tentatively; “the same your ladyship ordered for yourself -to wear at the <i>Feet</i> at Trianon to which the French -Queen asked us—and a sweet elegant creature Her Majesty -is, with all her fancies for dairies and such—and the -thunderstorm coming on it was the disappointment of -the world, and one that I am not like to forget in a hurry! -Sure your ladyship ain’t forgotten it? A plain rice -straw, with a ribbon round, but with a set to it! Aye, -and trimmed by my blood-niece, as is apprenticed to -Madame Eglantine out of my own poor savings; me -being always one to stand by my family, cost what it -do.”</p> - -<p>“The Italian straw,” my Lady reflected; “’twas -monstrous thoughtful of you, child, to pack it—la, -Lydia, ’tis the very thing—trimmed by your niece did -you say? Nay, only the genius of Eglantine could -twist a bow like that. Put it on my head. Why, ’tis -perfect—aye, I will wear it. Her Majesty desires -simplicity.”</p> - -<p>“Simplicity, is it?” Kilcroney groaned. “God help -us all!”</p> - -<p>As Kitty sallied forth, all in vapoury white, fresh and -sweet as a privet blossom, her face delicately pink under -the artful shepherdess hat, Pompey following with the -great rose-bunch in a bandbox, and little Denis trotting -alongside scarlet-cheeked from a triumphant battle royal -over the wearing of gloves, my Lord looked after them -with some melancholy.</p> - -<p>“I’ll stroll along presently and keep in the background.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span> -I’d not like to be blighting Kitty’s prospects after the -fashion of yonder poor Rachel. By all accounts Her -gracious Majesty Queen Charlotte is no more like to -fancy an Irishman than the unhappy girl that has a -mistake to her name.”</p> - -<p>Kitty had determined to walk to the pump room. -’Twas scarce a hundred yards away, and “squeeze those -crisp flounces into a chair before they had served their -purpose—never!” She had taken but a few steps along -the street when who should cross her but Mrs. Lafone. -Molly, all in the modesty of lilac dimity, with pensiveness, -something even approaching penitence, on her pert face. -Kitty was in a fair humour, and as her little enemy flung -her a deprecating glance of green eyes, actually paused -and smiled.</p> - -<p>“Whither away, Lafone?”</p> - -<p>“Alas, my Lady Kilcroney, stepping into the pump -room anon to drink my glass of the waters, I heard as -how Her Majesty was expected, and how you and the -other ladies of note are to receive her on this, her first -appearance.... My Lady Kilcroney, knowing myself -so unfit, feeling myself so out of spirits, I deemed it more -becoming to retire till all was over.”</p> - -<p>Now Kitty, riding on the top of the wave, was a trifle -intoxicated. It was in a tone of almost Royal patronage -that she exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Why should you miss the sight, child? You could -very well find a little place where you could see and not -be seen. Retrace your steps with me.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! My Lady Kilcroney,” cries Molly, with her -dramatic clasp of the hands, “was there ever anyone so -truly benevolent as you are!”</p> - -<p>Hanging her head, the little minx started off, a humble -step behind her patroness, and, looking over his shoulder -at her, Denis the younger was fascinated by the wicked -mockery on her face, and nearly fell into a puddle for -staring.</p> - -<p>There was no excitement in the town, for Her Majesty’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span> -intention was known but to the favoured few. The -Royal Family, it was bruited, were still reposing from the -fatigues of their journey. There was, however, a small -group of gentlemen about the pump room doors, in elegant -morning attire, and two or three barouches and as many -chairs were in the very act of depositing their fair burdens -as Lady Kilcroney sailed up. She was just in time, -indeed, to see Lady Verney—black-browed Susan, -panting, flushed, incredibly plumed—hurl herself out of -her hired sedan. At sight of Kitty this personage halted -in her rush forward into the pump room.</p> - -<p>“You here, dear Kilcroney?” her voice shook. -There was fury in her eye.</p> - -<p>“Even so, dear Verney. Pray, my Lord Courtown, -shall I take my stand on this spot? Hither with the -flowers, Pompey. My little son is to offer these to Her -Majesty, Colonel Digby; certainly ’twould be a mercy -if you would have the kindness to hold them till the -right moment comes. Such tender years are scarcely -to be trusted!—Nay, Denis, lambkin, no more sugar -plums till we get home again, or little pandies would be -so sticky, Denis couldn’t give the nosegay to the beautiful -Queen—What a pity, my dearest Susan, you should have -made yourself so fine. By Her Majesty’s most express -wish, all is to have the appearance of the simplest impromptu! -Still, my skirts are fairly wide. If you -place yourself behind me——”</p> - -<p>Place herself behind Kitty! Had her beloved friend -run mad, she that was always so flighty? My Lady -Verney to place herself in the rear, be hidden by another’s -flounces, she who had posted day and night, all the way -from Hertfordshire, upon the news of a probable vacancy -about the Queen’s person! Was it possible that Kitty, -with her Irish husband, labelled with such a name, could -fancy that she was like to meet with the Queen’s favour? -Susan was sorry for her poor friend. She tossed her -head with a snort. My Lady Verney had something of -the appearance of a handsome horse.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span>But stupefaction succeeded indignation when Lord -Courtown, very civilly addressing her, begged her to take -her place with the other ladies in the rear of my Lady -Kilcroney, for the royal party might be expected any -moment.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Tracy, ma’am, as one conversant in these -matters, will you stand at my Lady’s elbow?—My Lady -Kilcroney, Mrs. Tracy—Her Majesty’s Senior Bedchamber -Woman, who is at the waters on her own -account.”</p> - -<p>My Lady Verney, biting her lip, stamped heavily on -her neighbour’s foot as she shifted her position. Turning -at the low cry, her fierce black eyes met the plaintive -green ones of Mrs. Lafone, who in spite of her discreet -protestations, had taken as forward a place in the group -as well she could. As a rule Molly was in no better -favour with Susan Verney than with the rest of the -coterie, but at that moment they shared a sentiment -which made them suddenly and momentarily sympathetic.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my Lady Verney,” whispered Molly, “did you -ever see anyone so sadly cocked up as our poor Kitty? -It frightens me for her, it does indeed. I fear such pride -must have a fall.”</p> - -<p>Although Susan could see no sign of this prognostication -being fulfilled, it comforted her nevertheless; -and she was able to bear, with a better equanimity -than any who knew her would have thought possible, -the painful spectacle of my Lady Kilcroney’s success -with the Queen. Success it indubitably was, though -Her Majesty was a dry woman and not given to displays -of affability. It was evident that she had come -prepared to be pleased with Kitty Kilcroney and that -pleased she found herself. And truly, Kitty in her -snowy flounces, so charmingly blushing under her -wide-brimmed hat—which was indeed trimmed by -Lydia’s niece, Miss Pamela Pounce—Kitty so daintily -maternal with the sturdy little boy clutching his roses,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span> -was as pretty a picture as any would wish to gaze -upon.</p> - -<p>The two blooming Princesses exclaimed upon the -darling child, and good-natured Lady Flo was one broad -beam behind “her Royals’” back. And if Kitty blushed -she had nevertheless the most elegant ease. Her curtsy -was a model; the dignified modesty with which she -advanced and then retreated within the due measure -of etiquette was perfect of its kind. And when the -incident took place, which might indeed have proved -awkward, of Master Denis declining to part with his posy, -his mother saved the situation. “Denis,” quoth she, -bending but not whispering; all with a modest assurance -that could not have been bettered by one who had -been years at Court. “Lambkin, do you not remember -what I bid you? To whom were you to offer these -flowers?”</p> - -<p>“To the beautiful Queen,” said the child, his great -brown eyes roaming about as if he were seeking—as well -he might, poor innocent!—whom the description might -fit. The Queen, with a flattered smile, herself took the -offering from his chubby fingers.</p> - -<p>“Pretty rogue!” said Princess Augusta.</p> - -<p>When the other introductions had been gone through -it seemed to be nobody’s business to present Mistress -Lafone; and though the equerries looked tentatively at -her and then at my Lady Kilcroney, nothing could be -less responsive than that usually alert being. So Molly -made an artless curtsy as became her simplicity, and -thought, in her disloyal heart, how frumpish and dowdy -Her Majesty looked; and wondered if ’twas Miss Burney -who appeared so shortsighted and awkward and timid, -with no more air than nothing at all. And save for the -gentlemen, who were very personable and had bright -looks about them as if they might be enjoyable company -to a woman of spirit, there was really naught in this -vision of the Court which would make her, little Molly, -yearn for it—a vast stiffness and dullness indeed! If<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span> -it had not been that needs must when the devil drives -she would have snapped her slender fingers and ‘thank -you,’ but as matters stood—the drowning do not -pause to contemplate the quality of the spar flung to -them.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Lafone looked vindictively at Kitty and then -turned a watchful glance at the door. She wondered -how soon and in what circumstances Kitty’s dearest -friend, who was not received at Court, might make her -appearance? However Kitty might strive to hide the -visit, Mrs. Lafone would take care that it should be -known of; she had but to whisper the fact to my Lady -Verney and she did not doubt that the Royal occupants -of Fauconberg Hall would promptly be in possession of -the damning fact. Other people could put spokes in -wheels besides my Lady Kilcroney; and the more -swiftly they were rolling to favour, the greater might be -the upset!</p> - -<p>Her Majesty, talking very affably to Kitty, had advanced -towards the counter where the waters were -distributed. Here divers magnates of the town were -awaiting her, whom the Comptroller of the Household, -my Lord Courtown, named to her, one after the other. -Kitty and her group of ladies were left thus for the -moment outside the Royal circle of attention. The hall -by this time contained a certain amount of curious -spectators, very respectfully aligned against the walls, -for the public of Cheltenham, genteel quiet folk, would -have died rather than presume on Her Majesty’s condescending -informality.</p> - -<p>“Pray,” said the Queen, to Mr. Clark, the town doctor, -“let me have a taste of the water, sir, to drink which the -King has been sent hither. I ought at least to know,” -she added archly, “to what penance he hath been -condemned.”</p> - -<p>She sipped and declared she had expected worse; -Princess Royal and Princess Augustus also sipped, but -they cried out and protested that they were sorry for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span> -dear papa. And while the Royal pleasantries were producing -the most exquisite if refined mirth throughout -the whole assembly, Mrs. Lafone, who had been conscious -that she was the object of considerable interest to one of -the equerries (indeed, he was lifting his quizzing glass -to mark his notice), perceived his glance wander from -herself and become fixed. He dropped his quizzing glass, -the better to see; a warmth of wondering admiration, -prodigiously different from the familiar ogle she had herself -evoked, wrote itself on his countenance. But for the -presence of Royalty, she thought he might have exclaimed -out loud. Molly’s glance promptly followed his. She -could hardly believe her eyes. Here was fate playing -her game with a vengeance. Her enemy was delivered -into her hands. Everyone knew the face of Rachel -Peace!</p> - -<p>My Lady Mandeville advanced, clad, like Kitty herself, -in white, but with a flutter of grey ribbons here and there -to mark her Quaker preference. Her delicate pale face -was faintly flushed, under the wide brim of her simple -hat. She was not less fair than the pearls at her throat, -not less shining in delicate beauty. She held by the -hand a noble boy, slightly older than little Denis, who -marched as if the place belonged to him and gazed about -under frowning brows as though he wondered who dared -occupy it without his permission.</p> - -<p>If Kitty made a charming picture with her little son, -Rachel, with the heir of Mandeville, graceful and gracious, -with a lovely tenderness emanating from her, was the -very embodiment of sweet motherhood.</p> - -<p>She came across the wide hall with swift step, looking -from right to left, a smile hovering on her lips, her seeking -eyes already lit with fond pleasure. Where was her -dear Kitty? Suddenly she stopped—the smile faded, -the light of the expectant gaze went out, shadow fell -upon her radiance, a flutter as of fear shook her; yet she -had but encountered the gaze of my Lady Verney. -Susan Verney, who was very well acquainted with Rachel<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span> -Mandeville, who had indeed also tasted of her hospitality, -both in town and in the country, now withered her with -a blasting stare of denegration, a stare which said: “My -Lady Mandeville, I am pure virtue to-day, <i>I do not know -you</i>.”</p> - -<p>The room was all eyes to look at Rachel, and though -so decorous it was all whispers.</p> - -<p>The next moment the poor thing saw the Queen and -the Princesses, and Kitty Kilcroney white as death and -good Lady Flora scarlet in the face; she saw and understood. -Motionless she strove to rally her courage. She -wanted strength of heart and clearness of mind to do -just what would be right; Quaker Rachel who had never -done wrong but once! And for that breathless moment, -unknown to herself, her eyes hung on Kitty’s face; and -Kitty’s eyelids were cast down.</p> - -<p>The little Viscount Impington tugged at her hand. -His was an impatient spirit.</p> - -<p>“Come on, Mamma,” cried he, in loud authority; -and at the same moment little Denis O’Hara raised a -piping cry: “Imp, Imp, Imp!” and tearing himself -from the maternal clasp, galloped across the room to -hurl himself upon his baby comrade.</p> - -<p>The Queen looked at Kitty with an air of profound -surprise and disapproval, and Kitty looked back at the -Queen. And her heart rose within her; for, with all -her foibles and fancies, she had a heart.</p> - -<p>It led her then to do the noblest act of her whole -existence.</p> - -<p>Holding herself very erect and moving with a beautiful -dignity, she slowly backed the length of the -room that divided her from Rachel Mandeville; and, -keeping her eyes on the Royal face the while, she took -her friend by the hand. Then she stood very upright -and waited. Rachel could do naught else but wait -too.</p> - -<p>In the dead silence the Queen prepared to take her -departure.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span>Little Mr. O’Hara and my Lord Impington were -beginning to show signs of following up their affectionate -greeting with a rough-and-tumble fight and each -mother had to take possession of her child and keep -him firmly held; but they kept tighter hold of each -other still.</p> - -<p>The Royal group advanced; the kindly young -Princesses with awed looks, as if they felt how ill things -were going without understanding. When she reached -my Lady Kilcroney and her friend, Queen Charlotte -paused and seemed to hesitate. She cast a strange -troubled glance at the two young women, and Kitty and -Rachel fell, still clasping hands, into a great curtsy. -And the question was, which of the two made it with -a nobler grace.</p> - -<p>The last of the equerries to follow looked back at the -door, and saw my Ladies Mandeville and Kilcroney -embracing and kissing and he thought they were both -in tears.</p> - -<p>My Lord Kilcroney had been among those who unobtrusively -joined the lookers-on in the pump room -during the Royal visitation, and, beholding the scene, -his own eyes filled. In the effort to regain his self-control -he turned his dimmed gaze away from the two -who enfolded each other in such affecting and unaffected -friendship and it fell upon Mistress Lafone. As awhile -ago his son and heir, he was fascinated by the expression -on the small pale visage. Molly caught his riveted -glance, wilted beneath it, and somehow vanished. Not -my Lord Kilcroney nor anyone could ever as much as -guess at her share in the morning’s business; yet so -does conscience make cowards of us all, as Mr. Shakespeare -has it.</p> - -<p>My Lord kissed his wife’s hand before most respectfully -saluting that of my Lady Mandeville. At sight of him, -Kitty mingled laughter with her tears.</p> - -<p>“Is it not delightful, Denis,” cried she, “that our -sweet Rachel should have had this happy thought?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span> -But, oh, my dear love, our little rascals are at fisticuffs -again!”</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“<i>My dear Kitty</i>,” wrote Lady Florence that evening, -in a letter brought round from Fauconberg Hall by -one of the pages in waiting, “<i>I thought you were dished, -I did indeed. And of all the odd tiresome</i> contretemps, -<i>my love!... Well, I have not time to say even a word -of what I felt: Her Majesty is not fond of audacities -and you did, dearest Kitty, the most audacious deed.... -Well, never mind again!</i></p> - -<p>“<i>’Twas your hat did the trick to begin with, my love; -you was always so clever about clothes, Kitty. Sure, -it was the finest inspiration to wear that modest country -straw with its plain ribbon. It caught Her Majesty’s -eye from the first moment, and that you know means so -much. So modest, sensible and quiet you showed beside -poor Susan! Susan, with that tow-row of feathers on -her head! ’Tis she who is dished after all: ‘A loud -young woman,’ says the Queen to me. ‘I do not approve -of Lady Verney’s style.’ And what must she do on the -top of it but present herself in my parlour at Fauconberg -Hall this very afternoon?—a vast piece of presumption, -since the Queen hath forbidden visitors to all and sundry!—And -wants an interview of Her Majesty, to apologise—prithee, -Kitty, think of it!—for Her Majesty’s having -been exposed to such a meeting. She, to apologise for -the town! She, to cast her stone at poor Rachel! I -have never known my Royal so angry! ‘Are you then -not acquainted with my Lady Mandeville?’ She asks -our Verney. You should have seen Susan’s face under -her red plumes. (I had taken good care Her Majesty -should know we</i> all <i>were.) To be brief, Kitty, Verney -went forth with her comb considerably cut, and Her -Majesty took a twist in the other direction and spoke -very kind to me; though regretting the incident, she said -she could not find too grave a fault with a display of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span> -loyalty. ‘Tell my Lady Kilcroney,’ she says, ‘that -about My Person I appreciate loyalty!</i>’”</p> -</div> - -<p>Denis Kilcroney heard the contents of this missive -with a grave countenance. Then, looking at his wife’s -charming face, all irradiated between the joys of her -good conscience and its unexpected reward, he exclaimed -generously that it was a proud day for the House of -O’Hara. “Though,” he added, “the proudest moment -of it all was when I saw you stand by your friend, me -darling girl!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER II</h2> - -<p class="ph1"><span class="smcap">In Which Miss Pamela Pounce is ordered<br> -to Pack</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Pamela Pounce</span> sat with a bunch of cowslips in one -hand and the lid of the ribbon box in the other; she -had fallen into a profound muse.</p> - -<p>It was the cowslips, though they were but artifice, -which had set her active brain thus suddenly and idly -day-dreaming. They had brought her back with a rush -to the old farm where she had been born and brought up. -The whole surroundings of her exile had vanished. She -was no longer in the big, bare, stuffy, untidy workroom at -the back of Madame Eglantine’s celebrated Paris hat shop: -in the centre of snippets and straws, feathers, fringes, -flowers and other fashionable fripperies; under the -glare of the skylight; with the patter and gabble of -French voices, the click of scissors, the long-drawn sighs -or quick pants of energetic stitching, the rustle of -crumpled silks, in her ears, and in her nostrils the indescribable -atmosphere of the <i>atélier</i>, as it was called. -An apartment hermetically sealed to the outer airs, save -what might penetrate of them through the opening of -its doors; redolent of the gums of artificial flowers, of -last year’s and this morning’s succulent cookery—Monsieur -Ildefonse, the husband of Madame Eglantine, -liked a point of garlic in most dishes—and of the faint -sickly scents of hair powder and fine lady’s perfumes -which hung about the whole establishment. There were -other odours in the workroom besides, of which the less -said the better. It was little wonder that Pamela Pounce<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span> -should now and again feel her splendid vitality slacken; -that she should have considerably fined down from a -country buxomness since she had joined Madame -Eglantine’s staff.</p> - -<p>But the bunch of cowslips had brought her away—far -away from it all for a blissful moment.</p> - -<p>She was back again at home. The exquisite freshness -of an early summer morning on the Kentish downs encompassed -her. Her young bosom lifted with ecstasy. -Oh! the breath of England: pungent of the sea, sweet -of the moorland herbs, free from the hills and whispering -of the woods, was there ever anything like it? There -was a fragrance of breadmaking too from mother’s oven, -and a lovely reek of burning weeds where father was busy -over the potato fields!</p> - -<p>Pamela started. A voice, sharp as a pen-knife, had -recalled her to reality.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Meess”—she went by no other name in this -French servitude, either from her employer or her sister -workers. It was an unconscious tribute to a certain fine -apartness of character, as well as to her British independence. -“Ah, Meess,” cried Madame Eglantine, “is this -how I find you? Asleep with your eyes open! My -faith, is this how you conduct yourself in the thick of -the business hours? And the Marquise who expects -that hat by noon!”</p> - -<p>Pamela opened her day-dreaming eyes full upon the -speaker, gave an inaudible sigh and a small ironic smile. -She did not start or blush or show any sign either of flurry -or vexation at the acrid accent of the rebuke, she was too -completely mistress of herself for that. Her hand -hovered over the ribbon box; then with a decisive movement -she nipped a shimmering purple roll and began to -draw out its darkly radiant lengths.</p> - -<p>“Purple!” ejaculated Madame Eglantine, surprised -into a quite amiable tone; “purple for that blonde -Marquise who is not yet twenty! And she means to -wear all white muslins with lace in floods. Did I not tell<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span> -you so? That ribbon I bought for <i>Madame la Gouvernante</i>—it -is for dowagers——”</p> - -<p>She broke off and stared.</p> - -<p>Pamela had twisted and snipped and pinched and the -hat was trimmed in what her famous <i>patronne</i> herself -would have described as “<i>un tour de main</i>.” She now -held it up on her balled hand, and turned it slowly from -side to side.</p> - -<p>“But it is a stroke of genius!” exclaimed the little -Frenchwoman. She hated Pamela, but she was above all -an artist. “No, no, do not touch it again, no one must -touch it! You have a thousand times reason. Blue or -green or pink—anyone with the ordinary mind would -have blended me the banal pretty-pretty with those -cowslips. The Marquise would have been but one of a -score of shepherdesses, no more distinguished than a -dragée box for a baptism! But now——”</p> - -<p>She paused and waved her hands before the delight of -the mental picture. A small, dusky woman with very -bright eyes and extraordinarily swift movements, she -was like some quick furry animal of the mouse tribe; -a greater contrast to the fair, large, composed English -girl could hardly be imagined; yet on one point these two -were singularly akin. Both were geniuses in the same -restricted yet fascinating realm of art.</p> - -<p>If there were a creature on earth capable of stepping -straight off into the shoes of Madame Eglantine, first -milliner in the world of Fashion, it was Pamela Pounce, -the British yeoman’s daughter!</p> - -<p>Perhaps it was this consciousness of her rival’s merits -which made the Frenchwoman, while too acute of intellect -not to recognise them, regard her clever apprentice -with feelings which approached detestation. Yet she -was soon to find another cause.</p> - -<p>“I’d better put in the stitches myself, I suppose, -M’dame?” said Pamela tranquilly. She spoke French -fluently by this time, with a pronounced if not unpleasing -British accentuation. “The young ladies are so fond<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span> -of sewing things to death. It’s like a hand on pastry,” -she went on meditatively, as she bit her thread, and flung -a cool, tantalising glance at the irate ring of countenances -about her. “You have, or you haven’t got it, and no -one to blame.”</p> - -<p>“That will do, Meess. There is too much conversation -here, Mademoiselle Panache!” Madame hopped spitefully -from Pamela upon the directress, who, sitting large, -square and sallow at the centre table, dispensing materials, -had permitted herself a gratified smile over the snubbing -of the English girl. For a moment or two there was -silence in the over-lighted, under-ventilated apartment. -The season was early July; a blazing white sunshine was -pouring down through the casements which their muffed -glass but feebly mitigated.</p> - -<p>Then the little angry, sharp-toothed mouse that was -the bland, coaxing, fluent Eglantine of the showroom -found a fresh grievance.</p> - -<p>“My God, Mademoiselle Anatoline, are you making -a bouquet or tying bristles on a broomstick? And -Heaven pardon me, Mademoiselle Eulalie, but if those -hands of yours have been washed since—since—— What -have you been doing with those hands, <i>ma fille</i>? Blacking -the boots or scratching your head?”</p> - -<p>Anatoline, who was large and fat and fair, became an -apoplectic purple; and Eulalie, who was the colour of a -lemon with hair like a raven’s wing, turned a shade more -livid than nature had made her.</p> - -<p>There was a titter, beginning sycophantically upon the -lips of Mademoiselle Panache. But Pamela’s smooth -face, white where it was not delicately carnation, -might have been that of a handsomely tinted statue. -She cut her thread, tweaked one of the shimmering -purple loops, and once again putting the hat on her -clenched hand, gave it a little shake. The creation was -complete!</p> - -<p>Madame’s swift beady eye rolled in her direction.</p> - -<p>“Give yourself the trouble to bring that upstairs to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span> -showroom, Meess,” she ordered. “Madame D’Aimargues -said she would call, herself, before midday, to try -it on before it was sent. I will join you presently and -you had better remain, in case there were required an -alteration.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Bien, M’dame</i>,” Pamela responded with some alacrity. -She might get a whiff of good open air as she went up the -stairs. There might even be a window ajar in the showroom. -Such a miracle had been known to occur on a -very hot day.</p> - -<p>Monsieur Ildefonse, Eglantine’s husband, was sitting -in the little glass cage off the back showroom, pompously -referred to as the <i>Bureau</i>. This individual had once -been a very noted personality; no other, actually, than -the French Queen’s appointed coiffeur; in consequence -sought after to frenzy by every woman with the smallest -pretension to Fashion. Fine ladies had had their heads -dressed at six o’clock in the morning, nay, even three -days before some special assembly at Court.</p> - -<p>To be able to say, with a toss of flying vaporous curls, -exquisitely redolent of <i>Poudre à la Maréchale</i>: “In -effect, my dear one, Ildefonse’s last idea, what do you -think of it? It is succeeded. <i>Hein?</i>” To be responded -to, perchance, with a cry of envy and despair: “Ildefonse! -You managed to get Ildefonse!” And to know your -interlocutor, younger than you perhaps, and prettier, -yet altogether at a disadvantage, “a positive frump, -my dear,” under less skilful hands, that had been to reach, -in verity, the very needle-peak of feminine triumph, a -few years ago.</p> - -<p>But star succeeds to star; one Monsieur Charles was -Court twiddler, curler, crimper, frizzer, and general head -artist. For Monsieur Ildefonse had come into a heritage -and retired. Not a fallen star, therefore; merely astronomically -removed to another hemisphere! He shone -now, though, it may be added, with a doubtful radiance, -in a restricted connubial circle; in other words, he sat at -home and totted up accounts for his clever, money-making<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span> -spouse; made bargains for her with flower -manufacturers and mercers, and bullied the stewards -of great houses when Madame la Duchesse or Madame -la Connétable forgot to remember such insignificances -as the settlement of bills.</p> - -<p>Unanimously the workgirls adored him, with the -single exception of Pamela; and the relations between -Madame Eglantine and her consort, characterised in -public by the most touching demonstrativeness, were -regarded as the very romance of matrimony. But -Pamela, who had come under the glance, more often than -she cared, of Monsieur Ildefonse’s slyly roving eye, had -her private opinion.</p> - -<p>She shuddered from him as she had shuddered from the -fat, sleek, brown slugs that came out after rain on the -garden walls at home.</p> - -<p>As a little girl she would explain: “’Tain’t that I’m -afraid, you see, but it makes me creep.”</p> - -<p>She could have found no better words in which to describe -the effect upon her of the fascinating Monsieur Ildefonse.</p> - -<p>There was a midday lull, this scorching day, even in -Madame Eglantine’s thriving establishment. It was -late season, too, and save for orders like that of the little -Marquise D’Aimargues, for such as were privileged to -join in the pastimes of Royal haymaking and churning, -or a stray wedding order, business was slack, and the -great little milliner herself was preparing for that round -of the most noted watering places, with “just a few -models” in her baggage, which was her thrifty fashion -of spending the holidays.</p> - -<p>Pamela cast, in passing, a hasty glance between the -green curtains of the <i>Bureau</i>, to assure herself that her -pet aversion was safely employed.</p> - -<p>He had removed his wig on account of the heat, and -she turned her eyes quickly away from the revolting -spectacle of his close-cropped bristling black head and -the roll of olive fat at the back of his neck above the -embroidered collar of his blue cloth coat.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span>The pink, be-padded, be-wreathed, be-gilded, be-mirrored, -be-draped salons of Madame Eglantine were -empty. Pamela walked slowly into the middle of the -front room and hesitated. Her own charming shape -was reflected from every possible angle. Down below, -the whole <i>Place</i> seemed asleep; a buzz of flies within -and without, a lazy footfall on the shady side and a -distant rumble emphasised the universal drowsiness.</p> - -<p>When Madame la Marquise’s coach came along there -would be a prodigious clatter to wake them all up. -Pamela knew that she was quite safe. It’s all very well -to trim a hat. You never know what it’s like till you’ve -tried it on.</p> - -<p>Very deliberately she divested her glossy chestnut hair -of its discreet cap, loosened the swelling waves a trifle -more on either side of the firm rose-tinted ivory of her -face.</p> - -<p>“If a dash of powder was for poor girls like me, I -wouldn’t be too bad-looking. I’d say that for myself,” -she thought, and firmly set the hat of the Marquise at -the right angle over her radiant brow.</p> - -<p>Well, it was a complete success. Like every true -artist she was doubly critical of herself, but Pamela had -to admit that she could find no flaw in her own taste -and that the wide-brimmed curving Italian straw with its -bold sweep of purple ribbon, and its hanging bunches of -cowslips was a remarkably fine set-off for the glory of her -amber hair and the audacious brilliance of her complexion. -Without a tinge of envy or discontent she surveyed herself -thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>“Upon my word, Pamela Pounce, my girl!”—she -was fond of addressing herself mentally; as it were her -strong reasonable mind to her agreeable body. “You -would have held your own with the best of them if it had -been the fancy of Providence to set you in the aristocracy. -Ugh!”</p> - -<p>With a piercing scream she started out of her complacent -reflection.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span>A horrible olive-hued, leering face appeared over her -shoulder in the mirror; a blue-clothed arm stole round -her waist.</p> - -<p>Pamela swung herself free, whisked the hat off her -head ready to use it as a weapon should Monsieur Ildefonse -pursue his advances.</p> - -<p>In the dead pause the quick rustle of Madame Eglantine’s -light summer flounces were heard on the stairs.</p> - -<p>Instantly the ex-hairdresser’s countenance lost its -satyr smiles, and became composed into its usual mask of -smooth propriety.</p> - -<p>“Is that you, <i>mon Agneau rose</i>?” he cooed.</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, it is I, <i>petit rat de mon cœur</i>,” she replied.</p> - -<p>These endearments having perfunctorily passed between -them, Madame halted on the threshold and sent the -glitter of her swift glance from her spouse to her apprentice.</p> - -<p>“I took the liberty of trying on the hat what I’ve just -trimmed, M’dame,” said Pamela then in her brazen way.</p> - -<p>She wasn’t going to put it into Monsieur Ildefonse’s -power to tell on her behind her back, or worse still, to -pretend to be shielding her. She knew his slimy ways.</p> - -<p>“You do well to call it a liberty,” said Madame Ildefonse, -showing all her small pointed teeth as if she wanted -to bite Pamela. She was panting a little, and there was -a sort of whiteness about her nostrils that pointed to -considerable if repressed emotion. “But let it pass. -You were giving your opinion, I presume, my cabbage-stalk?”</p> - -<p>“Meess very naturally wished me to admire your -exquisite taste, <i>ma tendre biche</i>,” he responded. “‘No -one,’ says she to me, ‘but Madame Eglantine could have -made this inimitable, this absolutely original and distinguished -combination, all the while retaining the stamp -of the most high tone.’”</p> - -<p>Monsieur Ildefonse was very glib of tongue.</p> - -<p>“A-ah!” said Madame, smiling horribly. “You and -Meess flatter me in your private conversations.”</p> - -<p>“My charmer, how can I console myself in your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span> -absence, except by——” he broke off, for at that moment, -with sounds of pomp, a thunder of hoofs, a crash and a -clatter, the street woke up indeed, as Miss Pounce had -prognosticated. And Madame D’Aimargues drove up -in her four-horsed coach.</p> - -<p>Madame Eglantine cast off her rage, as one may divest -oneself of a garment, to be re-assumed at the chosen -moment; Monsieur Ildefonse, with a relieved shrug of -his huge shoulders, began to retire, cat-footed, to his den.</p> - -<p>“Remain as you are, Meess,” commanded the milliner, -now entirely concentrated on the exigencies of her -business.</p> - -<p>She shook out her flounces and summoning the bland -business smile to her features cast a swift glance at the -nearest mirror before taking two steps to greet her -valuable patroness.</p> - -<p>It was that glance at the mirror which precipitated -the catastrophe. By some counter-reflection, Madame -Eglantine’s jealous eyes caught a vision of Ildefonse, -her husband, her cabbage, the little rat of her heart, -pausing in his turn to cast a final ogle upon the abandoned, -the sly, the seductive, the shameless Meess!</p> - -<p>Eglantine beheld that ogle. She swallowed her -emotion. She was above all <i>femme d’affaires</i>. Everything -must give way before the profit of the moment. -She could wait.</p> - -<p>The little Marquise, blonde and slim and rouged, -ethereal yet vivid, fluttered in, fanning herself, tried on -her hat, chattered, laughed, approved, exclaimed upon -the heat, and, still fanning herself, departed, leaving on -Pamela’s mind the impression of a glittering butterfly, -as lovely, as useless, and as impalpable. You could -crush her, thought the girl, between finger and thumb.</p> - -<p>Her serious lambent gaze had hardly followed the -radiant apparition to the door, when the explosion burst -forth.</p> - -<p>It was all the more devastating for having been withheld.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span>Wanton! Hussy! Baggage! Designing intriguing -slut! <i>Meess de Malheur!</i> What was Pamela, after all, -but a stray apprentice, and an English one at that, flung -upon her, Madame Eglantine’s, benevolence for the sake -of old friendship, living on charity, a <i>beggar</i>! <i>Cette -Lydie</i>, how she had haggled! But if such wickedness -had been paid for in all the gold of false Albion, Madame -Eglantine would not have kept her, to the destruction of -her domestic happiness!</p> - -<p>“Meess, you pack this day.”</p> - -<p>She further added a flood of vituperation, to which -Pamela, all her pretty carnations dead on her white -cheeks, listened in a fixed silence.</p> - -<p>When the Frenchwoman had run herself out of breath -on a high scream, Pamela answered her in English, which -the whilom Bath milliner spoke brokenly, but understood -perfectly. “That’ll do, M’dame. I’m as pleased -to get out of this place as ever you can be to see the -back of me. As for that fat husband of yours, I wouldn’t -touch him with a pair of tongs. And as for yourself, -I’d not remain a moment longer than I can help with one -as doesn’t know the meaning of truth, and would take -an honest girl’s character away out of pure spite and -malice. And don’t you dare,” pursued Pamela, with a -swelling voice, “say anything against my character, or -as sure as there is justice in Heaven, I’ll bring your -business about your ears. I’ll tell that old cat, my -Aunt Lydia, what’s happened, that you caught your -horrid old Ildefonse ogling me in the glass, and that you -haven’t that trust in him—and sure, I’m with you there, -for he ain’t fit to be trusted the length of your apron, and -so I tell you fair—you haven’t that trust in him that -you could have another moment of peace with me under -your roof. God help you; I don’t blame you! Give -me the price of my ticket home, and I’ll see Aunt don’t -get at you over the indenture.”</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>For all her courage, for all the longing which the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span> -thought of England brought her, the heart of Pamela -Pounce was heavy as lead. She knew that, at the -Kentish farm, things were going badly with the yeoman; -she knew that she dared not add the burden of her penniless -self to that which rested on his shoulders. She -knew that odious as it would be, that abominably as her -relative would abuse of the situation, there would be -nothing for it, but to throw herself again on her Aunt -Lydia’s family feeling, as soon as the Dover coach landed -her in London town.</p> - -<p>Her aunt was now with her mistress in Hertford Street, -back from the Wells, according to the latest reports, and -that was one bit of luck; another was, that judging by -the tone of the letter just received by Madame Eglantine -with an order for hats, my Lady Kilcroney’s maid was in -the highest exultation over her mistress’s royal promotion.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER III</h2> - -<p class="ph1"><span class="smcap">In which Miss Pamela Pounce, the Milliner’s Assistant,<br> -becomes Arbiter of Life and Death in High<br> -Society</span></p> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“<i>Pray Mrs. Tabbishaw</i>,” wrote my Lady Kilcroney’s -woman to the Mantua maker in Cheapside, “<i>send -Pamela along with those white feathers of her ladyship’s, -which you has, this ever so long, to be died blew, yours -obleeged</i>,</p> - -<p class="right">“<i>Lydia Pounce</i>.”</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Now</span> the fact of Pamela being Lydia’s niece did not -endear her to that maturing damsel, “which,” she was -fond of remarking to any beholding them together, “do -seem prodigious absurd, seeing as how there’s scarce a -year or two betwixt us.”</p> - -<p>But if Miss Lydia was not fond of displaying herself -in public with a fine strapping young woman of twenty-three -who had an inconsiderate way of dropping out -“Aunt” at every second word (“which, reely, my dear, -I vow she does a’ purpose”—and perhaps indeed she -did), my Lady Kilcroney’s indispensable Abigail, as she -never omitted informing all and sundry, had a remarkable -sense of family feeling. She had placed the inconvenient -niece with the matchless Eglantine. With such -a start in life she considered the girl’s fortune made; and -if Paris were to become the stable abode of so much -bloom and bumptiousness, she, for one, would continue -to bear the separation with fortitude.</p> - -<p>When, after two or three years’ absence, however,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span> -Pamela reappeared on the scene, extraordinarily Frenchified, -unconscionably beautified, and quite unpardonably -wideawake, having quarrelled to the death with Madame -Eglantine, and possessing, to boot, only the clothes on her -back and the price of her ticket, Miss Lydia Pounce was -very justly annoyed. It was quite impossible to send -the girl home, since bankruptcy threatened the Kentish -farm. Once again Lydia’s fine conception of family -obligation came to the fore. There was Mrs. Tabbishaw, -at whose second-rate establishment in Cheapside the -elder Miss Pounce had been in the habit of having such -odd jobs done for her ladyship as the dyeing and re-curling -of feathers, the cleaning and mending of unimportant -laces, the quilting of winter petticoats. Mrs. Tabbishaw -owed her a good turn, and if she would now make room -for Pamela, give her board and just enough wage for her -clothes, Lydia would see to it that her mistress should -go as far as to purchase an occasional hat.</p> - -<p>Pamela had no choice but to fall in with her aunt’s -arrangements, for had not Madame Eglantine sworn that -she would give her no character? (As if, indeed, it had -been her fault that that odious Monsieur Ildefonse should -take to ogling her behind Madame’s back, and her -staring into the mirror!) She knew very well, however, -that she was sadly wasted at the poor, unmodish place; -and, indeed, since Mrs. Tabbishaw was too stupid to -realise the treasure that had come her way, the younger -Miss Pounce was forthwith turned into a maid-of-all-work. -Her long, clever fingers were set to scrub and -to cook, to pink or to quilt, or to whatever odd job -pressed the most. She was kept running to and fro with -parcels, and up and downstairs on messages. She was -sent galloping to shops and warehouses to match ribbons -and velvets, and all the while the wives and daughters of -the city went on purchasing the modes of the year before -last, as interpreted by vulgar minds, while spirit, delicacy, -art, dash, millinery genius in fine, was actually within -their reach! Not that Pamela Pounce had any desire<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span> -to adorn them. Her aspirations flew very high. Some -day she meant to be as great in her line as Eglantine -herself, to exercise her talents upon heads as worth while -as my Lady Kilcroney’s own.</p> - -<p>“You’re jealous of me, you cat!” It was thus she -apostrophised the worthy Aunt Lydia in the solitude of -her bare attic chamber. “You’re jealous of me. You -know you’re an old maid and peevish, and I’m only -twenty-three and better-looking than you ever were in -your life, with twice your wits, though yours are as sharp -as your elbows. You think I’d take the shine out of you, -you lemon-faced thing! You know I’d toss up a bit of -lace and feather for your ladyship’s boudoir cap, and that -her ladyship would nigh faint with the ecstasy of it when -she saw herself in the glass. And a sweet pretty creature -she is—the one glimpse I ever had of her, and that through -the door, you mean thing! Ah, give me a chance, and I -swear the sedans and the carriages would be blocking the -streets to get at me. But not if you can help it, old Miss -Pounce! You’re to be the only important Miss Pounce -in this world; that’s your little game! But ’tis not for -nothing I’ve got it all in me!”</p> - -<p>And hugging her knees as she sat on her bed—the chair -being too rickety to bear her fine proportions—Miss -Pounce the younger would map out her future in glorious -processions of feathers and head-dresses, hats and bonnets, -wreaths and <i>négligés</i>.</p> - -<p>Through all the hardships, the dreary daily grind, the -unkindness and the unremitting exertions, her star shone -upon her with a light that never wavered. The first -winter was a trying one, and Pamela found London, -after Paris, a cruel, ugly place; a cruel cold one, and a -cruel hard one. When the summer came, existence -might be easier, but the hours were longer with the daylight, -and there were nights when even Pamela’s high -heart gave way, and she would drop on her pallet bed -almost too exhausted to sleep. She had grown thin, and -there was a certain fierceness in the fire of her bright grey<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span> -eyes, as if they looked on all humanity as an enemy, by -that July 16th, 1789, when my Lady Kilcroney’s woman -wrote for the “blew feathers.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, drat!” said Mrs. Tabbishaw.</p> - -<p>She was just sitting down to her dinner at three o’clock -in the afternoon of a torrid day. The reek of roast duck -and sage and onions was succulently in the air, and there -was a tankard of porter facing and winking amber bubbles -beside her plate already.</p> - -<p>“Drat!” Mrs. Tabbishaw took a gulp of the porter, -and waddled to the door to scream: “Those blue -feathers, where the deuce were they put? Pamela! -Pamela! I say, where is that girl? My chest is wore -out screeching for her. Where’s Pamela, Miss Trotter, -dear?”</p> - -<p>“Just a-setting down to bread-and-cheese in the -scullery,” screamed a thin voice from the counting-house.</p> - -<p>“Setting down! It’s like her impidence! Send for -her this moment, Miss Trotter. Tell her she’s got to take -my Lady Kilcroney’s blue feathers to Hertford Street -this very minute. Tell her it’s pressing, Miss Trotter. -And stay, look out my lady’s bill, which Miss Pounce -promised me to have settled this while back, and it -twelve pound odd. Tell the chit to ask her aunt for it. -I’m none too fond of letting fine ladies’ bills run up, and -it all for odds and ends that are scarce worth my doing. -And, hark ye, tell her she’ll have to hurry back too, with -that pinking to finish to-night for Mrs. Alderman Gruntle’s -cradle, and her eleventh due any time.”</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>“For mercy’s sake, Aunt Lydia,” said Pamela Pounce, -as much to that damsel’s surprise and annoyance she was -ushered in upon her by Pompey, the black page. “Give -me a bit of bread-and-butter, and a drink of Bohea, for -I declare to Heaven I’m starving. And I’ve brought<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span> -you the feathers. And they’re dyed a dreadful blue, I -think; but once you give anything over to Mrs. Tabbishaw -you get the mark of her paw upon it, and so I tell -you.”</p> - -<p>“’Twould be well if she put the mark of her paw -upon you, miss, for your impidence. Bread-and-butter, -quotha! And I’m sure ’tis a good thing if you are a -trifle fined down from the gross size you was when you -came back from Paris. ‘Dear me,’ says my lord’s new -man to me, when he caught sight of you, ‘that’s a prize -one! She’d make ten of you,’ he says; and him so -genteel, I blushed to hear him.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that fellow!” Pounce the younger tossed her -head; “waylaying me on the stairs to say I couldn’t be -a Pounce, being so—well, so vastly different from you, -Aunt Lydia. And begging to see me home; as if I’d -let him—a valet, indeed!”</p> - -<p>“Upon my word!” Lydia’s faded, sallow, pretty -countenance went a trifle more sallow, and looked considerably -less pretty. “Who’s to talk of impidence, I’d -like to know, and what do you expect, miss?”</p> - -<p>“Somebody considerably less like stripes and buttons. -If I don’t get a gentleman one day, Aunt——”</p> - -<p>“A gentleman? La, hear her!”</p> - -<p>“I’ll go single, like yourself.”</p> - -<p>Pamela’s full light grey eyes became abstracted. Anon, -as she had turned in at the area railings, a young gentleman -had dashed by her up the steps, and had set the -knocker thundering against the panels of the hall door. -As she had looked up he had looked down at her; and -then he had smiled, and made a little gesture towards his -hat, which if not the courtesy he would have paid to -one of his own class, was nevertheless a genial, pleasant -salute. She thought she had never seen so handsome -a countenance; come under the gaze of such -flashing dark eyes. There would be a lad for one -who was lucky enough to be able to go in at the front -door!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span>“And, indeed, miss——”</p> - -<p>Lydia wheeled round, and perceiving Pompey lingering, -all one grin, tweaked his wool.</p> - -<p>“How dare you, you little blackamore! What are -you doing here?”</p> - -<p>“He’s waiting for orders to get me a cup of chocolate -and a bit of cake, aren’t you, Pompey?” cried the quite -audacious Pamela. “I’m sure my Lady’ll never miss it. -And as soon as I’ve got it to give, I’ll give you a crown-piece, -Pompey.”</p> - -<p>She laughed on the little boy, and when Pamela Pounce -laughed, she was something to look on; for her wide, -fresh mouth curled so deliciously, and the corners of it -went up so gaily, and she had such fine, white, even -teeth, and as the dimples came and went, she gained -such adorable little lines of fun about half-shut eyes, -and the most engaging little crinkle in her cocked -nose!</p> - -<p>“La!” Mrs. Tabbishaw’s slavey cast herself into her -aunt’s arm-chair, untied the ribbons of her wide straw -hat, and flung it on the table. She ran her long fingers, -surprisingly white in spite of their toil, through the -roughened curls of her chestnut hair, stretched her long -legs luxuriously, and contemplating the dust on her -shabby shoes: “Thought I should have dropped, I did,” -she cried, “when I come into Shepherd’s Market—three -big feathers and two little ones, Aunt Lydia! -And, la! the blue! ’Tis the peacockest vile colour, I -ever—— And oh, here’s my Lady’s bill! And old Tabby -must have it paid. She’s all swears and spits and fur-flying -about it, as it is. ‘Get your aunt to pay,’ she says, -‘for her beggarly odds and ends that don’t bring an -honest body a bit of worth while,’ and oh!” she -yawned outrageously, “I’m to hurry back, no less, -for Mrs. Alderman Gruntle’s eleventh is waiting on my -pinking.”</p> - -<p>“My lady’s account!” Lydia snatched the written -sheet from her niece’s hand: “Of all the—there, that’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span> -what comes o’ dealing with them second-class shops. -Mrs. Tabbishaw thinks my Lady can be treated like one -of her City bodies, I declare.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not to go back without the money,” said -Pamela.</p> - -<p>“Dear, to be sure! And my Lady so put about as -never! What with her new hat being such a failure, and -her out of sorts too, over her gown for the Birthday, -she about to take up her first turn as Lady-in-Waiting -into the bargain—Court friends being that spiteful, and -my Lord having the ill luck at Whites, and Bellairs’ young -nephew, Mr. Jocelyn, an audacious, gaming, young -rascal, if ever I see one, as set on the dice as my Lord, -and him but a beggar, so to speak. And my Lady paying -his passage back to India twice over, to my certain -knowledge, and him losing it on the green cloth within -the hour! Well, my Lady’s done with him, that’s one -good thing. ’Tain’t the moment for Tabbishaw, and -so I tell you!”</p> - -<p>“Why, la!” Pamela had a graceful, lazy mockery -in her eye and voice which, however ill-placed in one of -her humble station, somehow became her. “My Lord -must have been, indeed, uncommon out of luck, if my -Lady Kilcroney, her as every one knows is a-rolling in -old Bellairs’ money, can’t pay twelve sovereigns to a poor -shop in the City. But give me back the bill, Aunt, and -I’ll tell Mrs. Tabbishaw she’s got to wait till my Lord -casts a better tot.”</p> - -<p>Lady Kilcroney’s maid gazed at her audacious relative -as if deprived of speech. Nevertheless, in all her wrath -there was a certain grudging admiration.</p> - -<p>“The girl’s as insolent as if she’d been born a -lady!”</p> - -<p>The thought flashed across her mind as she whisked -through the door brandishing the account. On the -threshold the power of language returned to her.</p> - -<p>“As if twelve sovereigns wasn’t as many farthings to -one of my Lady’s wealth!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span>Here she nearly cannoned against Pompey with a tray, -and bidding him wait to be dealt with till his hands were -empty of chocolate, disappeared, objurgating, down the -passage.</p> - -<p>Pamela was half-way through her second cup of chocolate, -vastly refreshed and comforted by it, and the agreeable -little cakes which had accompanied it, when her -relative returned, with a red spot on either cheek bone, -her nostrils dilated over panting breaths. She had all -the air of one who emerges from a wrestle. The light of -battle, was still in her eye, but of battle victorious.</p> - -<p>“Here, miss,” she cried, “thirteen sovereigns to settle -your Tabbishaw, and milady says you can keep the -change. Gave me all sorts, she did, being, as who should -know better than I, from early morning, my dear, in as -peevish a temper as ever was. And—and what she can -do in that way,” said Lydia, turning up her eyes, -“you’d never believe if you hadn’t seen, the world -being made up of Diddumses. There wasn’t an item along -here she didn’t have her scratch at, and in the end, she -says: ‘For Heaven’s sake stop talking!’ (That’s how -poor servants is treated).</p> - -<p>“‘You’ll have me reeling in the head,’ she says. -‘Take thirteen sovereigns from my purse, and get out of -my room and don’t let me hear another word of that there -maddening bill!’ And so you can keep the change, my -love. And, if you’d believe it, just out of cussedness, the -young gentleman what’s annoyed her so prodigious has -the boldness to come knocking at our hall door and -demanding urgent, through Mr. Blandfoot, the butler, -a few moments’ conversation with her ladyship. My Lady -having given orders that he was not to be admitted, -the scamp sends for the butler—well, that’s about dished -him, I can tell you!</p> - -<p>“‘Tell him, Blandfoot,’ says my lady, ‘that I don’t -give alms at the door. Tell him,’ she says, ‘to go and -earn his living. I don’t hold,’ she says, ‘with able-bodied -beggars!’”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span>“Oh,” said Pamela, her thoughts flying back with -compassion to the dashing young gentleman on the -doorstep, “what a cruel thing to say. ’Tis insulting -misfortune.”</p> - -<p>“Insulting fiddlesticks! Here, hasten, you baggage, -or you’ll lose your good place, and I’ve had enough of you -for one day, I can tell you that.”</p> - -<p>“And what a darling, sweet auntie you are!” said the -second Miss Pounce, as she tied on her shepherdess hat -with knowing little peeps at the mirror. “’Tain’t any -wonder I love you. Ta-ta.”</p> - -<p>She dropped the sovereigns into her worn reticule, -kissed her hand from the door in sarcastic farewell, and -departed.</p> - -<p>With fourteen shillings and twopence to the good in her -pocket, Pamela felt a singular sense of independence. -Instead of hurrying back into the heat, crowd, and toil of -Cheapside, she turned her steps towards Hyde Park, the -green boughs of which seemed to beckon to her from the -top of the street.</p> - -<p>“I’ll go and sit under the trees,” thought the girl. -“An idea for a hat has come into my mind, and I’ll work -it out and let Mrs. Alderman Gruntle and her cradle and -the pinking go to the deuce.”</p> - -<p>She found a retired spot in the shade, and, the turf -being dry and inviting, stretched herself luxuriously at -full length to stare upwards at the odd little triangles and -stars of blue sky visible through the interlacing leaves -above her.</p> - -<p>Composing her hat with the zest of a poet his verses, -she lay at ease, in great content, when she was startled -by the sound of rapid footsteps on the sward.</p> - -<p>She sat up and beheld a young man, a very fine and -modish-looking young gentleman indeed, who advanced -with great strides, brought himself to a sudden halt -within the shady little dell, and casting swift looks from -side to side, as if to make sure he was not observed, flung -his hat on the ground and stood staring.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span>Pamela, shielded from observation by a clump of bushes, -watched with a sudden and inexplicable feeling of apprehension, -which grew as she caught sight of a drawn -countenance, deathly pale.</p> - -<p>“For sure,” thought she, “the poor gentleman’s -desperate!”</p> - -<p>The next instant she sprang to her feet with a scream; -he had drawn a pistol from his breast pocket and, with -an odd jerk, almost as if forced by some malevolent -power which he could not withstand, raised it to his -temple.</p> - -<p>Pamela was one of those rare beings in whom swift wits -unite with swift action. She hurled herself upon the -would-be suicide and wrenched the weapon from his -hand. For a strange moment they stood facing each -other, eye into eye. It seemed to her as if the whole -world held nothing but those mad eyes of his, dilated, -starting, haunted; the pupils were contracting and expanding -in the violet irises as with some dreadful -pulse of his heart. Suddenly his whole being relaxed; -he smiled.</p> - -<p>“Good heavens,” she cried, “’tis the young gentleman -on the doorstep!”</p> - -<p>“And you,” said he, “are the young lady in the area. -If the next world’s as odd as this, ’twill be a vastly comic -place.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” cried Pamela, who did not at all like this -reference to Eternity. Still less did she like the manner -in which he put out his hand towards the pistol.</p> - -<p>“By your leave, my dear. My property, I believe?”</p> - -<p>She strove to avoid his grasp; she fought to keep the -weapon in her hand. “Why, what farce is this?” he -exclaimed, laughing. “What do you imagine, my good -girl? May not an actor practise his greatest scene -without——? Why, what prodigious nonsense have -you got into your pretty head? The things’s not even -loaded!”</p> - -<p>“Ah, but what did you say yourself just now?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span>She was a vigorous creature, and terror lent her -strength. She remained in possession of the dangerous -implement.</p> - -<p>“What did I say? I merely tried the effect of my -most telling speech upon you—with fine result. If my -public are as impressionable——”</p> - -<p>Once more he stretched out his hand, but, leaping from -him, the girl raised the pistol, aimed at the nearest bush, -pulled the trigger, and fired.</p> - -<p>As the reverberations died away she turned a face, -drained of colour but triumphant, upon him.</p> - -<p>“So much for your story, Mr. Actor!” cried -she.</p> - -<p>“Why, you’re too quick for me!” he answered, with -a moody change, thrust his hands into his pockets, began -to pace the dell backwards and forwards before her, -kicking his hat each time he passed it.</p> - -<p>She thought that he was no more than a boy, for all his -manly growth, and her heart went out to him.</p> - -<p>“Here, give me the pistol,” he said. “Tush, child, -’tis safe enough for the moment. We’ll be having the -park-keeper upon us to see who’s been murdered. Let -us look innocent.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, oh,” she shuddered, “if I had not been -there!”</p> - -<p>“Nay, my dear, I’m in no mood to thank you, I protest. -Yet ’tis something to have had a vision of a pretty -face and a kind, womanly spirit at the last.”</p> - -<p>“There you go again! Sir, sir!”</p> - -<p>She surrendered the smoking pistol, and, as he slipped -it into his pocket:</p> - -<p>“Farewell, my dear,” said he.</p> - -<p>“Ah, no!” She clutched his arm by both hands. -“You shall not go till you have promised me—promised -me on your honour as a gentleman to spare -yourself.”</p> - -<p>“I could do that, on my honour,” he answered her; -“but that I will not quibble before such true eyes.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span> -Nevertheless it is to spare myself that I seek death. You -bid me on my honour. ’Tis because I cannot live dishonoured -that I hold this pistol to my temples. ’Tis not -that I don’t love life as well as another man, or better. -’Fore Heaven, it is because I have loved life too well. Had -I as much as a guinea in my pocket I would have defied -Fate. When I stood on those steps and rapped that -knocker a while ago, I swear I had as little thought of -blowing my brains out as you had. When you and I -smiled at each other I thought this world a very good -place, I do assure you. That woman in her fine house -yonder, rolling in luxury, with her lap dog and her -chocolate and her black page, her jewels and her laces, -her silks and her satins; all in her cushions; that woman, -I say, who finds the Bellairs’ money of so vast a use to -spend, might have given me a ten-pound note out of her -store. When all’s said and done, I’m the only Bellairs -left. And, if but a nephew by marriage, nevertheless -the last kin of her old Nabob. Ten pounds I asked of her—that -contemptible sum! And what did I receive? -The vilest insult, through the most insulting medium. -Odds my life, when I think of it——”</p> - -<p>He clenched his hands.</p> - -<p>Pamela stood, reflecting profoundly, one needle-marked -finger to her lip, her white brow drawn together under -the shade of her hat.</p> - -<p>Ten pounds to save a man’s honour. It seemed indeed -a strangely small sum! As if he read her thought, he -broke forth:</p> - -<p>“I dreamt last night, three times over, that I tossed a -double six at tric-trac, and ’tis the sixteenth of July and -I am twenty-six. My Lord Sanquhar promised to give -me my revenge at the Six Bells at six of the clock. ’Twas -such a conjunction of luck as could not fail. I would have -won back my I.O.U.’s. I would have returned my Lady -Kilcroney the passage money to India. She wants to -ship me to India, my dear, the inconvenient poor relation. -Ah, she need not fear. I shall beg from her no more.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span> -What a farce it has all been! ’Tis time to put an end -to it. Bless you for your sweet looks, my pretty child. -Think of me only as one who, after life’s fitful fever, -sleeps well. Aha! I shall sleep better I dare say, than -my Lady Kilcroney when she has read the letter I sent -to her anon!”</p> - -<p>“One moment, Mr. Bellairs, since that’s your name,” -said Pamela Pounce, with her wide, lovely smile. She -dived into her reticule, and began to gather the coins -together with counting digits. “If you’ll condescend to -borrow of a person who goes in by the area gates, here are -thirteen sovereigns at your service. I’ve just had a long -bill paid me. And, oh,” cried Pamela, suddenly and -unexpectedly bursting into tears, “I wish they were -three hundred!”</p> - -<p>“Gracious heavens!” said the young gentleman.</p> - -<p>“If you don’t take them I’ll never know another -happy moment,” sobbed Pamela. “Oh, how could -I? Oh, sir, don’t say ‘No,’ because I am just a poor -girl.”</p> - -<p>“Nay then. I won’t say ‘No.’ Upon my soul, I don’t -care if you go in at the coal hole, you’ve the finest spirit -and the prettiest face, ay, and the warmest heart I’ve -ever met in woman.”</p> - -<p>He held out his hand, and she put the money into it. -He hesitated then, and looked at her; and perhaps -because of some warning that flashed through her wet -eyes, or perhaps because of some innate spring of good -breeding in him, he only kissed the hand that had been -strong to save him.</p> - -<p>“Pray, what o’clock is it?” He struck his waistcoat, -where a black ribbon made pretence for a missing watch. -“My time piece has gone the way of most of my possessions.”</p> - -<p>“’Tis past five,” she said, “by the shadows.”</p> - -<p>The country girl had not forgotten her lore.</p> - -<p>“Past five,” cried he, “and I due at the Six Bells! -If you will move a step, my dear, I will pick up my hat.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span>“Allow me, sir,” said she. “Hats are my business.”</p> - -<p>She lifted the felt from the grass, dusted it with her -arm, pushed out the dent where he had kicked it, and -gave each corner a perfectly unnecessary twist.</p> - -<p>“I’m in the millinery,” said she, as she handed it -to him.</p> - -<p>“I thought there was something remarkably elegant -about your headgear,” he observed. “And pray oblige -me with your address, that I may know where to return -my loan, for the conviction grows in me that I am destined -to win and to live.”</p> - -<p>She knew that sense of victory; it was akin to the conviction -of her own confident soul; but while she smiled -she pondered. Then she said demurely:</p> - -<p>“My name is Pamela Pounce, sir. If you will -inquire for me, care of my aunt, Miss Lydia Pounce, -own woman to my Lady Kilcroney, ’twill be the safest -address.”</p> - -<p>He gave her a quaint look, bowed profoundly, and -hurried away.</p> - -<p>“The safest address,” he murmured, as he went. “Ah, -Pamela, you’re one of the wise virgins!”</p> - -<p>Then he laughed.</p> - -<p>“Farce did I call it? And I set for the blackest -tragedy! Nay, ’tis a mighty delicate comedy, and we’re -but at the first act of it.”</p> - -<p>Pamela stood gazing after the retreating figure.</p> - -<p>“Now,” said she to herself, “I have the choice of three -roads. I must go—to Bridewell, to the river, or to Aunt -Lydia. It had better be to Aunt Lydia.”</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>“Stripes and buttons,” who had not forgotten how the -younger Miss Pounce had snubbed him on their first -meeting, informed her that she might “hunt up the old -girl for herself”; her ladyship having gone out her ladyship’s -woman, if not in her own apartment, might be -found in her ladyship’s chamber.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span>And here indeed, with a not altogether comfortably -beating heart, Pamela confronted her aunt.</p> - -<p>Lydia stared, as if beholding a ghost.</p> - -<p>“La, whatever’s to do?”</p> - -<p>“The money’s gone,” said Pamela with great firmness.</p> - -<p>She had made up her mind from the first that nothing -should induce her to betray either the unfortunate -young gentleman or her own rash interference with his -concerns.</p> - -<p>“Gone? Gone, miss?”</p> - -<p>Pamela opened her reticule and mutely took out from -it a vinaigrette, three pennies, a sixpence, and a pocket -handkerchief, and showed the remaining vacuum to -Lydia’s horrified eyes.</p> - -<p>“But how in the name of goodness could such a thing -happen?”</p> - -<p>“You lend me the money, aunt, and I’ll pay you back -faithful, and I’ll trim you all your hats for three years -for nothing into the bargain.”</p> - -<p>But with an action of little bony hands which typified -her patronymic, Miss Pounce seized the reticule from her -niece. She shook it, and tested it; she held it up to the -light, she pulled its lining out. Then she tried the clasp, -which fastened with a snap as uncompromising as that -which now closed her own tight jaws.</p> - -<p>Still, without speaking, she looked volumes at the -milliner’s assistant.</p> - -<p>“I declare as I’m a living woman, aunt,” asseverated -the sinner, “that I have no more notion what’s become -of the gold than you have yourself. And all I can tell -you is”—her courage rose with the sense of this perfect -adherence to the truth—“that as I left this house it -was jingling in that bag, and when last I looked there -wasn’t one left. And if you don’t come to my aid—why, -you know what Madame Tabbishaw is? She’ll -always say I stole them. Come, you’ll lend me the -money, I know you will, for father’s sake, and the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span> -name’s sake. We Pounces ain’t never been called -thieves, aunt.”</p> - -<p>Her voice shook, for suddenly the word stung her, -unrepentant though she remained.</p> - -<p>“Lend you!” Miss Lydia let herself fall into my -lady’s own rosy-cushioned chair and broke into piercing -remonstrance.</p> - -<p>How in the name of goodness was she to find such a -sum? Did Pamela think she was made of gold? Here -was a return for all her kindness! A girl who was so -wickedly careless—likely to keep her promises, indeed! -She that ought to be racking her brains to pay back her -dear auntie for all her sacrifices.</p> - -<p>“Thirty pounds, miss, it cost me to send you to Paris, -and you to be so unprincipled as to let Madame Eglantine’s -husband take to ogling you. And it’s paying me -back you ought to be, instead of having the brazenness -to ask me for thirteen pounds. And indeed, miss, it’s not -thirteen pounds I’ll give you; no, not a farthing more -than the sum of the bill. You that might have had -fourteen and tuppence!”</p> - -<p>She suddenly broke off, sat up straight, and pointed a -finger at her niece with a sharp throw.</p> - -<p>“Where did you go to, miss, when you left this -house? Straight, now! What? You went and sat -under the trees in the park? Upon my word, I never! -And how long might you have been a-sitting there? -You don’t know. Better and better. You went to -sleep, miss, with that there bag full of gold. Oh, -you——”</p> - -<p>Pamela drooped her head, receiving the indictment -as with the humility of a guilty conscience, though she -was considerably relieved by the solution which the older -Miss Pounce had found for herself.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Lydia bounced out of her seat.</p> - -<p>“Mercy on us, here’s my Lady!” cried she. And then, -with a scream: “Mercy on us!” she cried again. “What -in the world has happened?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span>Pamela stared. My Lady Kilcroney it was indeed, -to judge by a fine feathered hat and a delicate flutter of -muslins, but a vastly different Lady Kilcroney from the -charming, happy little lady of Pamela’s remembrance. -A small figure with a stricken face crawled into the room, -and, as Lydia rushed forward, nearly swooned against -her.</p> - -<p>“My Lady, my Lady, what is it?” cried the maid in -genuine concern, guiding her mistress’s form to the chair -she had herself but just vacated.</p> - -<p>“Oh, oh, oh!” moaned my Lady. “Oh, in the name -of Heaven, send for my Lord? Oh, Lydia, the letter, -the letter!”</p> - -<p>Both women then saw that in a little gloved -hand my Lady Kilcroney was clutching an open -sheet. Lydia took it into her own grasp and glanced -at it.</p> - -<p>“Mercy on us!” then cried she for the third time. -“That dratted young man you’ve been so good to! -Well, if ever was anything so ungrateful! To go and -put an end to himself, just to spite you! Never you take -on, my Lady, he’s no great loss, I protest. A good -riddance, say I.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, oh, oh!” Kitty Kilcroney sat up and wrung her -hands. “Was ever any woman so punished for a fit of -temper? Oh, Lydia! Oh! I shall never smile again! -’Twas my Lord being so late in yestereven from White’s, -mad-stupid with his losses. And, oh, the night I had, -trying to show him the error of his ways and the vast -folly of not letting bad be when the luck’s against him. -And him going off in a huff, God knows where, before I’d -as much as swallowed my chocolate! And Mrs. Mirabel’s -hat coming on the top of it, and it is a sight to frighten -the crows after all my trouble. And my gown for Her -Majesty’s birthday the wrong yellow, and no time to get -another! And for the wretched boy to come to me then, -with his horrid tale of the dice and the cards, as bad as -my Lord’s own, him without a farthing but my bounty!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span> -Oh, oh, ’twas true I insulted him! What’s that you say? -<i>Who are you, pray?</i>”</p> - -<p>She had dropped her cries of anguish to speak with -the irritability of the afflicted.</p> - -<p>“I am your woman Lydia’s niece.”</p> - -<p>Pamela went down on her knees before the little distracted -lady, and spoke very gently and deliberately as -to a child; and the while she spoke Kitty’s eyes -widened on her smiling countenance as if they beheld an -angel’s.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs has not committed suicide, my -Lady Kilcroney, nor will he do so, because I took the -pistol out of his grasp. Yes, my Lady, I, with these -hands. And I gave him the thirteen pounds you sent -me to pay Mrs. Tabbishaw’s bill. Thirteen pounds! -And he went away to gamble with them at the ‘Six Bells,’ -and he was quite sure that he was going to win all his -money back from Lord Sanquhar with the help of them, -and I am quite sure, too, for him. Says he ‘My luck is -turned.’ And——”</p> - -<p>She was interrupted.</p> - -<p>“And that’s what happened to my Lady’s money. Oh, -you deceitful wretch! Oh, you vile young thief!”</p> - -<p>Lydia forgot everything but her indignation. Her -gimlet tones might have disturbed the dead, but neither -my Lady nor Pamela paid the smallest heed to her, for -Kitty Kilcroney had flung herself upon the young milliner’s -neck, and, shedding tears of joy, called her the most -incomparable girl, the noblest creature, the nearest thing -to a seraph that had ever walked a world of woe.</p> - -<p>They were both as keen of wit one as the other, and it -was wonderful how, with scarce a question and answer, -the whole story came out.</p> - -<p>“You turned into the park, you did not know why? -Ah, but I know why! ’Twas Providence, child. A -most merciful act of Providence! And you saw his -desperate face? Oh, I can scarce bear it! You wrenched -the pistol from his very hand? Oh, if I live to be a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span> -hundred, how can I be grateful enough to Heaven and to -you? Rash and unfortunate young man! You gave -him thirteen pounds? He only asked me for ten. Oh, -where did you say he had gone to? I must send after -him. Lydia, bid the carriage round again. I must go -myself. And you shall go with me, child. Oh, you -shall indeed!”</p> - -<p>“Since her Ladyship’s in such a fine mood of generosity,” -cried Lydia, who occasionally presumed on -fourteen years’ service, “perhaps she’ll pay Mrs. Tabbishaw’s -bill over again? Or else my niece will be getting -into trouble, and she needn’t look to me to get her out of -it, lying to my very face!”</p> - -<p>Kitty was standing before her mirror, happily setting -her flounces into trim, like a ruffled bird its feathers.</p> - -<p>“And why did you never tell me you had such a niece, -Lydia, I should like to know? And what do you mean -by burying a fine young woman like that with a creature -like Tabbishaw? <i>Ugh!</i>”</p> - -<p>My Lady’s nerves were pardonably on edge. The -shriek that escaped her as my Lord Kilcroney marched -into the room was as piercing as Lydia’s own.</p> - -<p>“Good heavens, my Lord, you’ll be the death of me! -You should have married Susan Verney, you should -indeed, or someone with a cast-iron constitution. -Stay——”</p> - -<p>Kitty’s frowns were never of long duration, and she -was in no mood for frowning! “You’ve come in the -very nick of time, my dearest love. Do I not hear your -coach without? Hasten, hasten to the tavern of the -‘Six Bells.’ Pray, where is it, my dear? Oh, doubtless -you know, dearest Denis. And you will ask for Jocelyn -Bellairs. You know, Denis, poor young Bellairs?”</p> - -<p>“Faith, then, I’ve been beforehand with you, me -darling!” said my Lord.</p> - -<p>He was running Pamela’s straight young figure up and -down with the eye of the connoisseur as he stood there, -a handsome, devil-may-care gentleman; one who patronised<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span> -so superlative a tailor, wore such fine lawns and laces, -and had withal so monstrous elegant a frame whereon -to hang them that a trifle of a loop hanging here or a -button loose there merely pointed to a genteel carelessness.</p> - -<p>“Faith, I’ve been beforehand with you! Meeting my -Lord Sanquhar anon, he took me to the ‘Six Bells,’ where -he had a rendezvous with your <i>poor</i> young relative, -Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs. And bejabers,” cried my Lord, -with his favourite Irish oath, “if that young rascal -hasn’t cleaned both me and my Lord Sanquhar as bare as -Mother Hubbard’s cupboard.”</p> - -<p>He paused; the investigating eye fixed itself with a -guilty twinkle upon his Kitty’s countenance, where a -mixture of strange emotions were struggling for expression. -And suddenly Lydia clapped her hands and broke into -eldritch laughter. Whereat my Lady also made her -choice of emotions, and laughed too.</p> - -<p>“And troth, mavourneen,” said my Lord, delighted -to find the situation so unexpectedly agreeable, “I’m -here to say ’twas you were in the right of it the live-long -night. There’s not a ha’porth of good in trying to force -fortune when the jade has made up her mind to flout ye. -And I’ll take your advice, me darling, and go with you -into the country the moment we get those devils of -I O U’s settled, till it’s time for you to abandon me for -that dashed damnation Court of yours!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I can’t scold you!” cried his wife. “But, oh, -why <i>did</i> you abandon me all day? ’Twas cruel unkind -of you, and I dare swear if you’d been here ’twould never -have happened; for you’d not see a fellow dicer go -wanting for a ten-pound note, my Lord, if I know you! -Oh, read that letter, Denis, and you’ll understand. And -if it had not been for Lydia’s niece here, admirable girl! -who took the pistol out of his very hand in the park, and -gave him her employer’s money—oh, if it were not for -this noble, clever young woman, where should I be now?”</p> - -<p>“You needn’t worry about the bill, aunt,” said Pamela,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span> -with the perfect composure that compelled that person’s -disapproving admiration. “I gave your address to Mr. -Bellairs, and, as he will certainly be punctual with repayment, -her Ladyship will perhaps kindly allow me to remain -until he calls with the money?”</p> - -<p>There was nothing my Lady Kilcroney would have -refused Miss Pounce the younger at that moment, and -the milliner’s assistant proceeded to add to her obligations.</p> - -<p>“If your Ladyship would trust me with the retrimming -of Miss Mirabel’s hat meanwhile, I make bold to say I -could alter it to your satisfaction——”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IV</h2> - -<p class="ph1"><span class="smcap">Showing Storm Within and Without</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">There</span> are some who seem to be destined always to keep -on top as the wheel of life revolves; no matter how others -may suffer from the law of its relentless motion.</p> - -<p>My Lady Kilcroney (still in the minds of those who -had first known her in her brilliant widowhood “Incomparable -Bellairs!”) might be counted among the rare -ones who are thus miraculously favoured.</p> - -<p>Beauty, wit, charm, wealth, rank and the irresistible -dash of the born leader she had already possessed; now -she had attained to Court favour: she was Lady-in-Waiting -to Queen Charlotte! It is scarcely necessary -to add that she had become a power in the world; should -she choose to exercise her influence on behalf of anyone -clever and virtuous enough to profit of it, that person’s -fortune might be regarded as safe.</p> - -<p>So do great planets, following their allotted orbits, -carry in their wake lesser stars that bask and shine in a -reflected light!</p> - -<p>In the instance of Miss Pamela Pounce the luminary -thus lifted into prominence, possessed a very considerable -power of shining on her own account; and, -once her position in the hemisphere assured, she required -no borrowed brilliancy.</p> - -<p>In other words, my Lady Kilcroney’s recommendation -obtained for Pamela Pounce a new start in life. Madame -Mirabel, exceedingly dissatisfied with her head milliner, -aware that Madame Eglantine of Paris was growing sleek -on the very cream of her rightful British custom, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span> -being moreover much struck with Pamela’s genteel -appearance, her manner and her aptitude, was all readiness -to oblige so distinguished a client as my Lady -Kilcroney, and give the young woman a trial.</p> - -<p>Before the autumn of her disastrous summer had -waned, the younger Miss Pounce found herself firmly -established in the very position which had been the -object of her wildest dream. She was head of the millinery -department of the great Bond Street mantua maker.</p> - -<p>Like her unexpected patroness, it might seem that her -cup of happiness was full. But there is no factor in -the calculations of existence so easily forgotten as that -most important item of all; the human heart.</p> - -<p>Pamela, in making her courageous plan of life, had -forgotten to reckon with her heart!</p> - -<p>And this tiresome, irresponsible, uncontrollable organ -began to trouble her exceedingly. In those hours of -leisure when she was not concocting delightful schemes -for the breaking of other people’s hearts—for every one -knows what a killing hat will do—she found herself considerably -inconvenienced by the peculiar conduct of her -own.</p> - -<p>Said Miss Polly Popple, of the millinery department, -to Miss Clara Smithson, the book-keeper:</p> - -<p>“You mark my words, my dear, there’s something up -with that young woman Pounce! She’ll be getting -herself into a regular scandal with that dashing young -spark of hers! And if she ain’t got something on her -conscience already ... I don’t know the signs!”</p> - -<p>Miss Smithson leant forward, wheezing heavily.</p> - -<p>“Providence ain’t always unjust, Polly,” she said, -“and people do come by their rights, no matter how -many viscountesses is against them!”</p> - -<p>“Ah,” said Polly, swelling her fine bust, and looking -at herself in the fly-blown glass which hung over the -chimney in the little room at the back of the Bond Street -shop where she was sitting, after hours, with her friend. -“That was a bit of jobbery, that was! There isn’t one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span> -in the establishment, I do believe, that wasn’t struck all -of a heap when they heard that a strange young female -was put into old Mrs. Dodder’s place instead of me, -which the next in rank is always, by law, you might say, -entitled to. Lady Kilcroney being that prodigious in -the fashion—not that I was ever one to admire her; -give me breeding!—and Madame Mirabel being so set on -cutting out Madame Eglantine—not that she ever will, -and you mark my words, for London ain’t Paris, I say, -and that I’ll maintain, and you may talk yourself blue -in the face, Clara, and you won’t alter that! If it hadn’t -been for that put-up job, ’tis I’d have been head of the -millinery here this moment.”</p> - -<p>Miss Polly Popple’s case was clear, but Miss Smithson’s -reasons for disliking Pamela were perhaps more -abstruse. She talked big of the claims of friendship, of -her sympathy for Miss Popple, and also of a “rising -within her,” which with her was an infallible sign of -“something fishy” in somebody else. But the truth -was that the new-comer’s radiant youth, her success, her -spirit of enterprise, had started the base passion of envy -in Miss Smithson’s withered breast; a passion the more -prejudicial that it flourishes entirely outside the pale of -reason! She listened very greedily, therefore, to Miss -Popple’s rapid exposition of her suspicions. Between -gossip, malice, and inventiveness, the new head milliner’s -character seemed indeed in a parlous condition when -Miss Popple concluded.</p> - -<p>That wheezing breath of Miss Smithson’s was drawn -with ever-increased intensity.</p> - -<p>“Walking with the young gentleman late of an evening -in the Green Park! Upon my word! If it had been -you that had seen her last night, now, Miss Popple dear, -instead of that poor foundling of a Mary Jane, which -Madame Mirabel was saying only yesterday could scarce -be trusted to match a skein of blue silk, I’d go to Madame -Mirabel this minute with it, I would, being so to speak, -a cousin——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span>“Beware what you does, Miss Smithson, you’ll ruin -all. Give her rope.”</p> - -<p>“Rope, Miss Popple?”</p> - -<p>“Rope to hang herself with,” said Miss Popple vindictively. -“That’s in a manner of speaking. Plain, -she’ll give herself away or he’ll give her away,” she had -an ill-natured giggle, “so as we give them time. It’s his -game to give her away, a devil-may-care hand, some -young buck who only wants to have her at his mercy, -just for his fun. Wasn’t he after her here—open—three -afternoons out of last week?”</p> - -<p>“After her here?” Miss Smithson again repeated -her friend’s last words. She was exceedingly shocked.</p> - -<p>“Why, mercy to goodness,” she went on in horrified -tones: “Ain’t it the rule of the house? No male -belongings is allowed after the young ladies here if -they were grandfathers itself. And they churchwardens.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, tush, Smithson,” interrupted Polly contemptuously. -“Of course my sly young beau comes dangling -in with some lady friend, to help her to choose a hat—<i>by -way of</i>—” Polly winked. “Toosday, it was Mrs. Lafone -as brought him, or, to be correct, he brought her, which, -knowing the minx as I do—I refers here to Mrs. Lafone—’tis -my intimate conviction ’tis he will pay for that -there hat! But, as you knows, Miss Smithson, and none -better, ladies’ morals ain’t our concern, thanks be, so -long as we keeps our own respectable.”</p> - -<p>Miss Smithson admitted this regrettable truth with a -doleful sigh. Polly took another pull at the brew of hot -spiced beer which they had concocted for their comfort -this cold December night, and proceeded:</p> - -<p>“Thursday, if Mr. Stafford doesn’t bring him along -all innocent! He, with his handsome lady on his arm, -up from Windsor for the day, to buy her a stylish head -for a Christmas present. And, ‘What are you doing, -looking in at a hat-shop window, Bellairs,’ says he, laughing -and joking (’tis his way, my dear, a very agreeable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span> -gentleman!) ‘Gad,’ says he, ‘you’ve not got a wife to -run you up bills! Your chinkers goes hopping out on -hosses and dice and cards, and what not! Selfish fellows -you bachelors are!’ And Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs, bowing -to Mr. Stafford and declaring he only wished he had other -people’s luck—and indeed, Miss Smithson, Mrs. Stafford -is a real beauty!—but all the while, my dear, who is he -looking at and ogling and taking occasion to whisper to—but -Miss Pounce, if you please! And if I didn’t see the -way her kerchief lace was quivering with the palpitation -of her heart, and her hands shaking as she took down -heads for Mrs. Stafford and held them up for her—well, -my name’s not Popple.”</p> - -<p>Miss Smithson leant over the sulky coal fire and lifted -the saucepan from the hob to refill her glass. Her own -hands shook. That Pamela was a disgrace and would -bring discredit on the whole house of Mirabel! She felt -it in her bones.</p> - -<p>“You may say so, dear.” As her friend drank, Polly -Popple tendered her own tumbler for replenishment, murmuring -parenthetically, however: (“Not a drop more, -love. I never did hold with stimulants, only you were so -pressing and it is a foggy night, I won’t deny, and a drop -of cordial, a mere medical precaution, so to speak)—you -may say so,” the slighted young lady of the bonnet -department took up her theme with fresh gusto. “And -you’d say so a million times more if you had seen them -to-day. For Mr. Jocelyn comes in with my Lady Kilcroney—and -oh! the bold brazenness of it!—there he -stands behind my Lady’s chair and Pounce—La! I -declare I’d have been sorry for her if she wasn’t what she -is, the baggage—red and white and not knowing where -to put her eyes with him signalling to her. Yes, and if -he did not thrust a letter into her hand as I went out, -you may set me down a liar. And her stuffing it into -her kerchief under my very nose!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t, dear, don’t,” moaned Miss Smithson, beating -the air with her bony hand. Then, after a long pause,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span> -during which she seemed to be painfully bringing her -virginal mind to confront the awful pictures just presented -to it, she went on acridly: “There’ll be a bust -up. When a girl comes to that <i>pint</i> of disreputableness -things is bound to happen. It can’t go on like this—you -mark my words.”</p> - -<p>Now, strangely enough, barring the inexactitude of the -premise, such a conclusion had just formed itself in -Pamela’s own mind.</p> - -<p>It could not go on. Something was bound to happen. -She had saved the life of Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs; and he had -demonstrated his gratitude by promptly falling head -over heels in love with her. So far, so good; or rather, -so far, so bad, where a dashing young gentleman of -expensive habits, small principle and remarkable fascination -and a young person of the working classes are -concerned. For the mischief of it was she had fallen in -love with him. Poor Pamela, with her high spirit, her -clear brain and her strong courage, to be betrayed by a -heart as vulnerable as any silly girl’s of the lot! She was -clear-sighted enough to know that, stripped of the golden -glamour, the path of her romance led to a very ugly gulf. -She despised herself for her weakness. She had no -illusions on the quality of the attachment offered to her -by Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs, but, as the short December days -dropped away to Christmas, she found, growing within -her, a dangerous new self; a reckless creature who cried: -<i>The Devil might take the consequences; a girl was young but -once; you found your fate, and had to clasp him or lose him; -the one man you could love, and him only, or go wanting to -your grave!</i></p> - -<p>“I know it’s death and destruction some time,” said -Pamela to herself, sitting hugging her knees in the neat -little chamber in Shepherd Street, where she lodged with -a most respectable widow woman who had once seen -better times, “but isn’t it death and destruction anyhow -and at once if I have to give him up?”</p> - -<p>She re-read the letter he had slipped into her hand—the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span> -audacious fellow—a few hours ago at Madame -Mirabel’s.</p> - -<p class="center">“<i>It must be yes or no, my darling lovely girl.</i>”</p> - -<p>My darling, lovely girl. That was what his eyes were -always saying, and oh! it was sweet!</p> - -<p>It must be yes or no! She told herself that if she -couldn’t say yes, it was still more impossible to say no. -Backwards and forwards she struggled with the insolvable -problem, till her tallow candle expired with a -great stench, and she was left in darkness and misery. -Worn out with her long day she fell at last asleep, to be -wakened by the call of a cock in Shepherd’s Market. -Perhaps it was this farmyard cry which, weaving into her -consciousness, had made her dream so strongly of the old -place at home. When she woke she could hardly believe -she was not in the billowing four-poster in the great attic, -with pretty Sister Susie asleep beside her.</p> - -<p>Again the cold, foggy, bleak London morning was rent -by the crow of the cock. Then Pamela knew where she -was, and she knew something else, too.</p> - -<p>That other self which had got into her must not be -listened to on any account. It must indeed be stamped -out of existence with the utmost promptitude.</p> - -<p>Now Pamela was considerably wiser than most young -women in her position. She took a sensible resolution.</p> - -<p>“I’ll go to Mrs. Mirabel this very morning,” she -decided, “and ask for a Christmas holiday. She won’t -refuse me, being the good-natured soul she is, and me so -useful to her. And once I get home and feel mother’s -arms about me—there! I know I’ll be all right. I -needn’t be afraid of myself any more.”</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Pamela Pounce took seat in the Dover coach. She was -in a sedate flutter, an admirably dignified bustle. She -knew to the fraction of an inch the amount of space to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span> -which she was entitled, and she possessed herself of it -determinedly. She had, besides her own agreeable -person, divers bandboxes and loose parcels to place, and -this she did with an amiable assurance that put protest -to the blush, and set other passengers’ pretensions in a -gross light. When her arrangements were concluded -she heaved a sigh, presented a vague smile, and lay back, -her hands folded, to survey the other travellers at leisure. -She was herself better worth looking at than any of the -coach-load, which contained a foreign couple, one or two -of the usual bagmen on the road to France, a Dover shopkeeper, -a farmer’s wife, and an elderly gentleman of -delicate and serious mien, who drew an old calf-bound -volume from a shabby bag, and fixed large gold-mounted -spectacles upon his high, transparent nose -with all the air of one prepared with solace for the -journey.</p> - -<p>But as he sat exactly opposite Miss Pamela Pounce, his -shrewd, cold eyes wandered ever and anon from the print -to fix itself upon her, as though—which was indeed the -fact—he were puzzled in what category to place her. -It was obvious to Sir Edward Cheveral, who, though -impoverished, was himself a gentleman of the first water, -that the ambulent nymph in front of him was not of his -class, perfect as was the fit of her grey riding coat, refined -and reposeful as were the hands in their long grey gloves, -tasteful in its coquettishness as was the grey riding toque, -set on chestnut curls, and suitably as these curling -tresses, unpowdered, were smoothed away to be tied -with a wide black ribbon at the back of the long proud -throat.</p> - -<p>In the first instance, no young person of family with -such claims to distinction as her elaborate travelling gear -pointed to, would be voyaging in the public coach -unattended; in the second, in her quiet ease, and -the full yet not immodest assurance of her glance, -the manners of one accustomed to fight the world for -herself were very obvious; in the third, there was an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span> -indefinable lack of the never-to-be-mistaken stamp of -breeding.</p> - -<p>“For all your clever counterfeit, my good girl,” -reflected Sir Everard, “you haven’t the ring of the guinea -gold.”</p> - -<p>Yet he reproached himself for the accusation. Here -was, after all, no counterfeit; very good metal of its kind. -“Fine yellow brass,” thought he with a chuckle. “All -in a good sense, my dear.”</p> - -<p>What was she? From whence and whither speeding? -Not an actress. That fresh, close-textured skin had never -known paint on its flower-like surface. The cheeks were -not even rouged; indeed, after the flush of bustle, the -colour of them was now settling back in a curious ivory -pallor, which went well with the ardent hair. No fine -lady’s young woman; every movement had betrayed -conscious independence. A shop-girl? The wife of -some small merchant? Nay, ’twas the impersonation -of maiden liberty, and what shop-girl could encompass -such a wealth and detail of modishness?</p> - -<p>She caught his gaze upon her, leaned forward and -smiled. He had already noticed that her smile was -rather dazzling. He quite blinked to find it addressed -to himself.</p> - -<p>“I trust, sir,” said she, “my bandboxes do not incommode -you?”</p> - -<p>“By no means, madam,” answered he civilly; and -moved his long, thin legs back a further fraction beneath -the seat.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t been home,” said she, “for four years, and -luggage do grow when one has five young sisters at home, -sir, and presents run to hats.”</p> - -<p>“To hats?” he repeated, with that interested air -that obviates the audacity of a question.</p> - -<p>“Along, sir,” said Miss Pounce, and her smile broadened, -“with me being in the millinery business.”</p> - -<p>She drew herself up with a very pretty and, to his mind, -becoming pride.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span>“A business,” he said, “which I take it, madam, is in -a flourishing condition.”</p> - -<p>“You may say so, sir.” Her pride increased. “Since -Miss Pamela Pounce—that’s me!—has been made head of -the department, Madame Mirabel can scarce execute the -vast number of orders.”</p> - -<p>“Upon my word!” He had removed his spectacles, -and was smiling on her in his turn in a kindly, detached, -faintly satiric way. “I trust Madame What’s-Her-Name -recognises her debt to you?”</p> - -<p>The head milliner gave her curls ever so slight a -toss.</p> - -<p>“Well, sir, she wouldn’t like to lose me. She knows -I’m worth my weight in gold to her.”</p> - -<p>His glance flickered over her comely proportions. -Tall, generously made, he had called her a nymph. -“Goddess would have been the better appellation,” -murmured he.</p> - -<p>“Well, ’tis a comfort to an old man like myself to meet -one so youthful to whom work is proving both fruitful -and blessed.”</p> - -<p>Miss Pamela Pounce didn’t need any old gentleman to -commend her. She knew the value of work, and who -better? And if it was blessed to her, why she took good -care that it should be. And, as to content with her lot—sure, -if she hadn’t been, she wasn’t a fool, she’d have -picked out another for herself.</p> - -<p>“’Tis some old clergyman,” she thought, and laughed. -“He’ll scarce know what a hat means. Clergyman’s -wives and daughters in the country would give any -woman of taste bad dreams for a fortnight. There was -Mrs. Prue Stafford. Had she not still to learn that to -wear pink and blue with such cheeks as she had was -positive vulgar? And she married to the finest of fine -gentlemen.”</p> - -<p>Sir Everard folded his spectacles, put them carefully -into his breast pocket, and closed his Virgil. Here was -an opportunity of studying a—to him—hitherto quite<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span> -unknown branch of humanity, after an unexpectedly -pleasant fashion. The girl pleased him. He had called -her brass and humoured the simile. A shining, solid -composition of metal that took a handsome polish and -showed itself boldly for what it was. He liked her for -her spring of youth, her frank pride of her trade, for -having no petty nonsense nor poor pretentiousness to -pass for what she was not. He liked her brave independence. -There was, he thought, a better modesty in her -quiet certainty than any prudish airs and graces could -have lent her.</p> - -<p>“’Twould be a presuming fellow,” he mused, “that -would dare to try his gallant ways with such an one, and -if he did, I would back my young milliner to teach him -a lesson.”</p> - -<p>She told him how she had, so to speak, graduated in -Paris, which accounted, thought he, for a taste that was -scarcely indigenous. And her home was between Canterbury -and Dover, and she, brought up till seventeen on -the farm, the eldest of eleven. Then he knew whence -she had drawn that sap of splendid vigour; a hardy -flower of English soil. And the chief of his many prides -being that he was an Englishman, he was still better -content.</p> - -<p>She would alight, she told him, at “The Rose” at -Canterbury, where she would lie the night. And father -would fetch her in the morning; for ’twas mortal cold -across the downs on a winter’s evening, and ’twas a long -drive for the mare even in good weather.</p> - -<p>“Bravo,” said he. “I, too, halt at ‘The Rose,’ I am -glad to know that I shall have such good company. May -I sit beside you at supper in the eating-room, my dear -young lady?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you’re vastly obliging, sir!” said Pamela Pounce, -and a faint pink crept, like the colour of a shell, into her -smooth, pale cheek, for she had a good eye for a gentleman, -and she knew that she was honoured.</p> - -<p>Her tongue ran on gaily, and he listened with a gentle<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span> -air of courtesy and an interest which in truth was not -assumed.</p> - -<p>In spite of her sophisticated manner her chatter was very -artless. It was a revelation of a character which had -remained curiously untouched by the world. The busy -mart in which she lived had cast none of its dust upon -her soul.</p> - -<p>Dear, to be sure, how prodigious joyful they would be -at home to see her back!</p> - -<p>“Four years, sir, think on it! I was but a child when -I left them, and now I’m a woman!” ’Twas like, -indeed, that none would recognise her again, should they -just happen to meet, accidental like. She half wished -she could have walked in upon them and taken them by -surprise. But then: “Father, sir, would ha’ lost the -pleasure of coming to fetch me,” and her mother might -have been vexed. “Mother’s very house-proud, sir. -She’d want to have things pretty for me, and bake cakes -and that.”</p> - -<p>And they’d all be looking out for her on the house step. -Just to think of their dear faces fair turned her silly. -She blinked away a tear and gave her bright smile. But -as he smiled back it was with a certain melancholy. The -farmer with his eleven children—poor, struggling fellow!—the -hardworked mother, the good, industrious child, -returning home with her hands full of gifts, blessed in -her honest toil for them, were they not all about to taste -joys from which he had deliberately cut himself off in his -fastidious isolation? He had scarcely ever regretted his -chosen solitariness. His beautiful old shabby home, set -in the loneliness of the snowy park, the wood fire in the -library in the company of a favourite book, the ministrations -of a couple of well-drilled servants, an austere -silence, a harmonious communion with the high spirits -of the dead; that was the Christmas to which he himself -had looked forward with complacency. Now he wondered; -his heart contracted with a most unusual sense of -pain; had he lost the best in life? If he had had a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span> -daughter by his shoulder with a white, pure forehead -such as this girl had, and had seen her eyes fire with -love, heard her voice tremble at the thought of meeting -him, her old father, would not that have brought -him a sweetness finer than the most exquisite page in -Virgil?</p> - -<p>The day, which had opened blue and gold, with a high -wind and clear sunshine, began to gather threatening -clouds by the time the posting station was reached; and -the “Dover High-Flyer” plunged away again into a -snow squall with all the speed of its fresh horses.</p> - -<p>“We are like to have a seasonable Christmas,” quoth -Sir Everard, and was pleased to note that, while the rest -of the company grumbled and complained, the fine -specimen of young womanhood opposite to him produced -a warm shawl from a bundle, tucked it round her knees, -and offered him the other end, declaring, with a smile, -that she was as warm as a toast, and that she did love a -white Christmas.</p> - -<p>They all dined at Rochester, and had hot punch, of -which Miss Pounce partook with enthusiasm, but in -very discreet measure.</p> - -<p>Conversation flagged on this, their last, stage. The -snoring of the foreign pair who, having tied their heads up -in terrible coloured handkerchiefs, leant against each -other and gave themselves up to repose with much the -same animal abandonment as that with which they had -gobbled the beef-steak pie and gulped the hot rum of -the “Bull Inn” at Rochester; the sighing fidgets of the -farmer’s wife, and the grunts of her neighbour, the Dover -tradesman, each time they jarred him from a fitful -somnolence, alone broke the inner silence. Without, -the multiple rhythm of the horses hoofs and the varying -answer of the road to the wheels—now the scrunch of -cobble stones, now the slushy whisper of the snow-filled -rut, now the whirring ring of a well-metalled stretch—formed -a monotonous whole which lulled to silence those -who could not sleep.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span>Sir Everard saw, by the shifting flicker of the lamps, -how pensiveness gathered on the bright face opposite -him. Once or twice the girl raised a finger to the corner -of her eyelid as if to press back a rising tear; sighs lifted -her bosom.</p> - -<p>“Ah!” thought the old philosopher, “the goddess -of modes is not so fancy free as I had thought. Here, -truly, are all the signs of a gentle love tale. Perhaps the -young man in the counting-house, or some sprightly -haberdasher, who sees Miss pass to her work, and would -fain capture for his own counter a face so fair and charming.”</p> - -<p>Sir Everard felt very old and stiff by the time Canterbury -was reached, and half regretted his suggestion to his -travelling companion, to continue their comradeship at -supper. He thought it might have better become his -years and aching bones to retire into a feather bed with -a basin of gruel. Far indeed was he from guessing the -singular emotions into which his old age was destined -to be plunged that evening.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>A fine room with a four-poster, no less indeed than -the chamber which went by the name of “Great -Queen Anne,” this was what the landlord proposed to -allot to Sir Everard. A chimney you couldn’t beat -in the kingdom for drawing, mine host averred, and -a fire there this minute; agreeable to Sir Everard’s -obliging communication. And what could he do for -Miss?</p> - -<p>Sir Everard was a little shocked to hear Miss Pounce -enter upon a brisk bargain for an attic, and hesitatingly -began a courteous offer of his own apartment, when -she interrupted him with the valiant good sense which -he had already had cause to admire in her.</p> - -<p>“Not at all, sir! ’Tis what suits my station—so long -as the sheets are clean and there’s a good bolt to the -door; you’ll promise me that, Mr. Landlord? And if -you can’t spare a warming pan, sure a hot brick will do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span> -vastly well. And now, sir, give me time to see my bandboxes -in safety, and I’m for supper.”</p> - -<p>Even as she spoke she started. Her eye became fixed, -her lips fell open upon a gasp of amazement. The -healthy white bloom of her countenance turned to deathly -pallor, and then a tide of blood rushed crimsoning to her -forehead. Beholding this evidence of strong emotion, -it scarcely needed the sight that met Sir Everard’s -glance as he followed the direction of her eyes to -confirm his instant conclusion. The young man, of -course! Stay, the young man is a gentleman—poor -nymph! Here then were joy, and fear, confusion, the -warning of conscience, and artless passion, all mixed -together.</p> - -<p>The young gentleman advanced; a fine buck, of the -very kind, thought Sir Everard, who took an instantaneous -dislike to him, to turn the head of any girl beneath -him in station, whom he might honour with his conquering -regard. There was a black and white handsomeness -about his chiselled countenance; all the powder in the -world could not disguise that those jet eyebrows were -matched with a raven spring of hair. With a smile, a -dilation of nostrils, a swagger of broad shoulders, a -leisurely step of high-booted legs, he came forward out -of the tap-room. No surprise on his side: my gentleman -had planned the meeting.</p> - -<p>“La, Mr. Bellairs!” Pamela Pounce exclaimed, and -her voice trembled. Then she rallied, and strove to -pursue with lightness, “who ever would have thought -of seeing you here?”</p> - -<p>He took her hand and lifted it to his lips with an -exaggerated courtesy, as if he mocked himself for it the -while.</p> - -<p>“Why, did I not guess rightly, my dear, you would -be spending a lonely evening here on your way home?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mr. Bellairs!”</p> - -<p>He kept her hand in his, to draw her apart. Sir -Everard, gazing at them, his chin sunk in his muffler,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span> -with severe, sad eyes, saw how she swayed towards him, -as she went into the window recess, as if her very soul -floated on the music of his voice. He watched them -whisper ardently together, and then she went by him -like a tornado, picking up her bandboxes as she passed, -quite oblivious of his presence, or of anything, apparently, -save the young rascal, so Sir Everard apostrophised him, -who stood gazing after her with the same insufferable -smile; the smile of the easy conqueror.</p> - -<p>Sir Everard never had had a high opinion of women. -Life had given him no reason to indulge in illusions. But -now all his condemnation was for the man. The strong, -self-reliant creature who had faced him all those weary -hours with such unalterable good humour, such a candid -outlook, such a pleasant acceptance of her own position -that it was the next thing to high breeding, what was -this Captain Lothario planning to make of her? And -how, since he had found her already so hard to win that -he must travel to Canterbury for the purpose, did she -now thus readily yield herself to his plucking hand? -Ay, the villain had struck at some peril point in the life -of her soul. The child was tired after her long journey; -tired too, perhaps, by the mental conflict from which -her integrity had hitherto emerged triumphant. A -sudden assault had found the fortress unprepared. -’Twas the old story!</p> - -<p>Sir Everard went wearily to his room. The thought -of the feather bed and the gruel, of a selfish withdrawal -from further association with what was like to end in -sordid tragedy tempted him perhaps, but he did not -yield to it. The girl’s smile haunted him. It had been -so brightly innocent; and he was haunted, too, by the -last memory of her face, stricken with astonishment, -quivering with joy. However she might fall, it would -not be through light-mindedness. The folly, the misery, -was deep rooted in her poor heart.</p> - -<p>He made a careful toilet, and went down the slippery -oak stairs, leaning on his gold-headed cane, looking a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span> -very great personage indeed, delicately austere and -nobly haughty.</p> - -<p>Alas! Pamela never so much as lifted her radiant head -when he came into the eating-room. She was seated -beside her gallant at the end of the table in close -conversation—that whispered, blushing, laughing, -sighing conversation of lovers—and if the roof had -fallen over them, Sir Everard thought, the two would -scarce have noticed it, so absorbed were they in each -other.</p> - -<p>The young man had ordered champagne, and the girl’s -glass was filled, but the bubbling wine had barely been -touched. Another intoxication, more deadly and more -sure, was working through her veins. The old philosopher, -seeing her condition, resigned for the moment all thought -of interference, and sat down to his bottle of claret and -bowl of broth.</p> - -<p>Hardly, however, had he broken his hot roll, than the -room was invaded by fresh arrivals; a young woman, -wrapped in furs, conducted by a gentleman who had -not removed his travelling coat, and kept his hat pressed -on his brows; a personage who entered with an intolerable -arrogance as if the place belonged to him, who -ordered champagne and supper for the lady, and fresh -horses for his coach, in a voice which rang like the crack -of a whip. He could not wait; the servers must bustle. -A guinea each to the ostlers if they harnessed within ten -minutes. “And, hark ye, sirrah, a bottle of your best -Sillery, and——”</p> - -<p>“Surely I know this autocratic fellow,” thought Sir -Everard, and as the traveller drew his companion with -an imperative sweep of his arm about her, to the end of -the table opposite to that at which Mr. Bellairs and his -Dulcinea were seated. “My Lord Sanquhar!” cried -Sir Everard, “by all that’s outrageous! And who in -the name of pity is his victim now?”</p> - -<p>That the two were lovers, of a stage considerably more -advanced than the poor milliner and her Beau, was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span> -obvious to the onlooker, and as my Lord Sanquhar now -tore his hat from his head, to dash the snow that covered -it into the fire, where it hissed and spluttered like a curse, -the young woman who accompanied him let herself fall -on to the settle and turned a look of darkling challenge, -of brooding suspicion, into the room.</p> - -<p>She was clad in the most sumptuous garments. There -was a bloom of royal purple against the tawny clouds of -her sables. There was a fire of ruby at her throat, -caught up and repeated at each ear, as if deep gouts of -a lover’s blood had taken to themselves flame for her -adorning. But the countenance she turned upon the -room was, Sir Everard thought, so striking, that all this -splendour seemed its natural attribute; striking with a -Spanish beauty, a richness and depth of colour, with -flashing orbs, high nostrils, and scarlet lips.</p> - -<p>“Good Heavens!” Sir Everard mused, “where has -he picked the jade? Victim? Nay, ’tis the kind that -keeps a knife in her stocking and will whip it out and -under your rib, and make an end of you with less ado -than another will shed a tear. My Lord Sanquhar -will have to look out for himself. Illicit love is a -dangerously charged atmosphere in which to handle live -gunpowder.”</p> - -<p>The “Dover High-Flyer” had only dropped two of -its passengers at “The Rose,” and the landlord was free -to attend to his imperious guest. He himself served my -Lord Sanquhar’s champagne, and with bent back received -his “pishs” and “pshaws” on the dearth of -proper entertainment for the lady. She wanted fresh -fruit, and there was none. She asked for chocolate, and -pettishly refused to touch it. One sniff was enough. -All her desires and denials she communicated in a guttural -undertone to her companion, who translated them into -oaths.</p> - -<p>Sir Everard, who had had but a poor appetite, was -now, his broth bowl pushed on one side, dipping bits of -roll into his wine after a foreign fashion, and watching<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span> -the while the two sets of lovers at the further end of the -room. He noticed, not without some satisfaction, that -constraint had fallen upon the ardent Bellairs and his -fair milliner. The colour on the young man’s face -fluctuated. He bit his lip and shot doubtful looks of -question from the blatant couple to the downcast -countenance of his companion, who had grown very pale, -scarcely spoke, and seemed now and again as if she was -struggling with tears.</p> - -<p>A clatter of hoofs, the clang of a bell, and a shout from -the door announced another guest, a solitary horseman, -it seemed. The landlord, who was just entering the -room with a plate of dried plums in the hope of tempting -the appetite of the capricious lady—he had scented my -Lord’s quality with unerring nose—here thrust the dish -into the hands of a waiter and turned back to receive the -newcomer. He had left the door open behind him and -all could hear the passionate explosion of a hoarse voice -in the hall.</p> - -<p>The dark little lady on the settle by the fire sprang to -her feet, and stood, tense. Her companion gave a swift -frowning look of surprise. Sir Everard, gazing upon -her also, drew a quick breath. “By the immortal gods,” -said he to himself, “the drama is coming swifter than -one could have imagined.” And, indeed, what the -ancient quiet inn was destined to hold for the next ten -minutes in the way of human passion, conflict, and -tragedy, might happily be never as much as guessed at -in the lifetime of most men.</p> - -<p>The landlord, his wig awry, his features discomposed, -puffing and blustering, was vainly endeavouring to -prevent the ingress of a small thick-set man, who though -wrapped in a cloak and carrying some considerable -burden, which he kept hidden under its folds, contrived -by a single violent thrust of his shoulder, to send him -spinning out of the way. The intruder advanced then -at a headlong run, brought himself up short, flung back -his cloak, and with the same gesture his hat, and stood<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span> -revealed, swarthy, grizzled, livid, panting through dilated -nostrils, glaring upon the woman by the settle. There -was a great flare of colour on his broad chest, where, -wound in a scarlet shawl, a little child of about two, -with a head of curls of that dark copper hue destined to -turn black with years, lay placidly asleep; the curve of -a plump apricot cheek was all that was visible of its -face.</p> - -<p>“Good heavens,” said Sir Everard, and at the sight of -the sleeping innocence, something in his old heart began -to lament.</p> - -<p>There was a moment’s extraordinary silence, broken -only by the breathing of the man with the child, which -hissed through his set teeth like the strokes of a saw. -Then my Lord Sanquhar laughed.</p> - -<p>The man leaped as if he had been struck. A torrent -of words broke from him—guttural, fierce, intolerably -anguished. Sir Everard knew a little Spanish.</p> - -<p>The unfortunate was pleading: “Come back, come -back! I will forgive all. Come back, Dolores, you -cannot leave us. You cannot leave the little one. Come -back in the name of God, in the name of His Holy Mother. -<i>Madre di Dios</i>, look at her! You cannot leave that! -Ah! unhappy one, you want gold and jewels. Was not -our love your treasure? Is not our child a pearl? Look -at her!”</p> - -<p>In singular contrast to the unrestrained violence of -his outburst, the manner in which he held out the child -was pure tender. The little one woke, stared about her -with devouring black eyes of amazement, caught sight -of the standing woman’s face and cried, joyfully beating -the air with minute dusky hands, “Mamma, mamma!”</p> - -<p>At this a sob burst from the unhappy father, so deep -and tortured it was as if it rent him.</p> - -<p>“Dolores, our little girl, she calls you ‘Mamma, -mamma!’ Call again my angel! ‘Mamma, mamma!’”</p> - -<p>He went down on his knees and held out the babe, and -as he did so she wailed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span>The mother, meanwhile, stood, insolent lids half -closed, red lips thrust forward, tapping the floor with -impatient foot, the embodiment of cruel disdain.</p> - -<p>At her child’s cry she stuffed her fingers into her ears -with savage gesture, stamped, and flung a raging glance -at her lover as one who said, “How long am I to endure -this?”</p> - -<p>He answered it by the movement of a beckoning -finger, which brought her to his side. Then he cast a -gold piece on the table, clapped his hat on his head, and -together they moved towards the door.</p> - -<p>“Ah! By the blessed saints!”</p> - -<p>The Spaniard in a bound was before them. He shook -the screaming infant in their faces as if it had been a -weapon.</p> - -<p>“I swear this shall not be. I swear that I shall kill -you and your paramour and the child and myself rather -than that this shall be.”</p> - -<p>It was here that Pamela caught the little one from him. -He was perhaps too far gone in passion to notice the -action; perhaps he was glad to have his hands free for -his fierce purpose—anyhow, he relaxed his hold. And -the girl, clasping the baby in her arms, hushing it and -soothing it, ran with it to the further end of the room. -Sir Everard had also risen and Bellairs had started -forward. But it would have been as easy to baulk a -wild cat of its leap as to arrest the betrayed husband -in his spring upon his betrayer.</p> - -<p>No one ever quite knew how it happened. There was -the flash of a knife, an oath, and my Lord Sanquhar’s -“Damn you, you would have it!” and the explosion of -a pistol.</p> - -<p>The Spaniard fell without a groan, right across the -doorway. Sir Everard and Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs both -knew that he was a dead man before he touched the -ground.</p> - -<p>“You are witness all,” said my Lord Sanquhar, “that -this was in self-defence.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span>The woman cast a backward glance into the room. -Her rich bloom had faded. She was white, but with a -palpitating whiteness as of fire at its intensest, and the -gaze of her great eyes was as fire too. Almost red they -shone, repeating the blood fires of the rubies. Then -she gave herself to Lord Sanquhar’s embrace, and together -they rushed out into the night.</p> - -<p>“Odds my life!” said Mr. Bellairs, looking up at Sir -Everard. He had flung himself on one knee beside the -stricken man, and was going through the vain parade -of seeking for a pulse which he knew no longer beat. -“Did you see that, sir?”</p> - -<p>“He lifted her across her husband’s very body! He -lifted her right across the body?” said Sir Everard, in -a hushed voice of disgust.</p> - -<p>“Lifted her? Sir, she jumped!”</p> - -<p>Pamela kept the child’s face turned against her breast -with a loving hand, and as she rocked and soothed, she -herself wept as if her heart would break.</p> - -<p>Through the doors, cast open to the night, the roar of -a new snow wind hurtled in upon them. There followed -a sudden clamour of voices, as the host endeavoured to -arrest my lord’s departure and was borne down, well-nigh -annihilated, from his path; the crackling shout of -my lord’s orders; the plunge and clatter of hoofs on the -cobbles. It seemed as if the blood-guilty pair had gone -on the wings of the storm, and that the very elements -cried after them as they went.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Sir Everard, as the most responsible witness, assisted -the landlord in the preliminary investigation of magistrate -and constable. He took a certain grim pleasure in -furnishing Lord Sanquhar’s name, and trusted the nobleman -might be summoned to answer for his action. Even -if acquittal were a foregone conclusion, to a reputation -already tarnished this incident was not likely to add a -lustre. By the quality of the murdered man’s clothes, -the massive gold of his watch-chain, the signet ring on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span> -his dead hand, it was judged that he was a merchant of -the better class, and that the unfortunate incident would -probably make some stir among his compatriots.</p> - -<p>The cold and stiffening body which had been so short -a while before pulsing with agony and passion, was laid -in the harness-room of the inn, covered with a white sheet. -Scarce ten yards away the grey horse that had borne its -rider on the wild race to death was placidly munching its -corn, the sweat not yet dry on its flanks.</p> - -<p>When Sir Everard returned to the eating-room he -found Pamela still on the settle, the child asleep on her -lap. On the board beside her a half-finished bowl of -bread and milk showed that she had been occupied with -the worse than motherless babe, while he had attended -to the last concerns of its doomed father. On the -other side of the hearth, one elbow propped on the high -mantelshelf, stood Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs. The old man’s -entrance had evidently interrupted a conversation between -the two lovers, of an interest so vital that both the -faces now turned upon him were stamped with fierce -emotion.</p> - -<p>Sir Everard removed a chair from before the table and -sat down on it facing the fire, and for a space no one -spoke.</p> - -<p>Pamela had cast the scarlet shawl across one shoulder -so as to shade the child’s head from the light. Her -hand patted and her knees swayed, rocking the infant -sleeper.</p> - -<p>“Poor little creature!” said Sir Everard at last.</p> - -<p>The girl gave him a quick glance.</p> - -<p>“I’ll keep her to-night. I’ve told the landlord I would, -and I’d keep her always if I could.”</p> - -<p>“’Tis a generous thought,” said the old gentleman, -with a faint smile for the magnanimous impractibilities -of youth, and as he smiled he was aware that Mr. Bellairs -snapped his fingers and jerked his foot on the edge of -irritable outburst.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Pamela began to sob quickly under her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span> -breath; turned her head aside so that her tears should not -fall on the little placid face.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been a wicked girl! A wicked girl!”</p> - -<p>“Hush!” cried Mr. Bellairs, and flung out his hand.</p> - -<p>“No, sir; I won’t be silent!”</p> - -<p>“But, good God, my dear, need you drag this stranger -into our intimate concerns?”</p> - -<p>“He’s no stranger to me, Mr. Bellairs. We travelled -down in the coach together, and he couldn’t have been -more civil to me if I’d been a lady born; no, nor kinder -if he’d been my father. Oh, sir, I don’t know your name, -but I know by the pitying way you looked at me that you -understood what dreadful danger I was in and how—” -again she sobbed—“how ready I was to yield to it! He -wanted me to go to Paris with him. He did, indeed! -He wanted his love to be my all-in-all, and nothing else -was to matter. I’ve been a wicked girl! I listened to -him. I never would listen to him before—not when he -spoke like that—but to-night I did. Heaven forgive me! -What took me?”</p> - -<p>“Confound!” said Mr. Bellairs.</p> - -<p>He wheeled away from the sight of her weeping, -clutched the mantelpiece with both hands, and dropped -his head on them.</p> - -<p>“Well, ’tis all over now.”</p> - -<p>Sir Everard spoke uneasily. This openness upon a -subject so delicate was painful to him, but Pamela had -the yearning to relieve herself by confession.</p> - -<p>“Oh, sir, how could I do it? I don’t know myself. -I swear when I look back ’tis as if I had not been myself -at all. Something came into me—so rash, so desperate! -’Twas as if nothing mattered but just his love, our love. -And then—then—when those two came in I saw our sin -as it was. Oh, heavens! Oh, Heaven forgive me! Murder -and every evil was there. Would I not have been just -as cruel, done just as horrid murder? When the truth -came out, would my father and mother and my own dear -loves at home, waiting for me so fond and so trusting,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span> -and so proud of their poor, silly Pam, ever have held up -their heads again? Oh, base, base! I would have -murdered them for my pleasure. And that love, what -was it? The thing that those two looked at each other, -something vile, something that brought contamination -even just to see go between them. Did he and I look at -each other like that? It turned me sick even to think -on, even before—before that poor, poor man came in! -Heaven forgive me! Heaven strike those two in their -bad hearts! Oh, sir, did you look at her when she stared -back upon us, that woman? I suppose there was beauty -in her face; I suppose he who went with her thought her -handsome airs worth the cruelty and the blood and the -crime on his soul. But to me she was ugly, all ugly, with -the ugliness of her sin——”</p> - -<p>She broke off, bit her quivering lip, and stared fixedly -before her; an expression of horror on her countenance -as if she still beheld the ugliness of which she spoke.</p> - -<p>Mr. Bellairs straightened himself and snapped his -fingers again.</p> - -<p>“Tall talk, my dear,” he began; and then broke off, -dropped his eyes under Sir Everard’s stern gaze, and -stood abashed. Then: “Perhaps you’re right,” he said -in an altered, strangled voice; and dashed from the -room as if driven.</p> - -<p>Pamela started, glanced after him, and then wiped her -wet cheeks with the end of the baby’s shawl.</p> - -<p>“Let him go,” she said.</p> - -<p>“You’re a brave girl.”</p> - -<p>“Oh no, sir! Only so grateful, so wonderfully saved, -so ashamed. Oh, this little creature against my breast—must -I not feel it—think of it—if I had had my foolish -way I should never have been worthy to hold such a -lovely, lovely little dear in my arms again.”</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Sir Everard insisted on lighting Pamela to her attic -chamber. She went up before him with a step so elastic,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span> -in spite of the burden of the child in her arms, that she -had to wait for him on every landing; which she did -with a return of her bright amiability and even a flicker -of its former radiance in her smile. Each time she -halted she rocked the baby, swaying from foot to foot, -murmuring under her breath a crooning song which the -old man thought very sweet; so sweet indeed, that, with -a swing of memory’s pendulum it brought him back to -his own childhood’s days and the tender face of his mother, -long dead—a mother who had never been old like him.</p> - -<p>On the threshold of her poor room they parted. She -spared him her right hand for a second from its motherly -caressing and patting of the child which she bore with -such ease on her left arm. He bowed over it as if it had -been his queen’s.</p> - -<p>When he went down to the flaming hearth which justified -the landlord’s boast, he sat long by it.</p> - -<p>He, who had hitherto lived apart in a world of books, -found his mind obsessed by the thought of the frightful -passions of humanity as they had this night played themselves -out before him.</p> - -<p>The whole scene reproduced itself in his tired brain -with the colours of life; Lord Sanquhar’s sardonic, pale, -haughty face, the rich vividness, the unblessed allurement, -the cruel beauty of the unfaithful wife; the -Spaniard’s agony; the irredeemable tragedy of that -picture of the father with the child; then the dead face.</p> - -<p>“Heaven strike their bad hearts!” had cried Pamela -in her honest revulsion. Could God ever forgive those -who had sent forth the soul of their victim so charged -with fury and despair that even death could bring no -peace to his brow?</p> - -<p>And then he thought of Pamela’s face as he had last -seen it—pale, tear-stained, but with the old luminous -innocence. And, after all, he thought, there had come -good out of the evil.</p> - -<p>“The providence of God is over us all,” he thought -with gratitude, as he rose stiffly to seek that feather bed,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span> -where there was small likelihood of sleep that night for -him.</p> - -<p>He heard the call of a coach horn beyond, in the night, -and immediately afterwards the mighty clatter of the -four sets of hoofs and the rush of the wheels in the streets. -He went to his window, opened it, and looked out.</p> - -<p>The up coach from Dover, pausing only to drop a single -passenger. Stay, to take up a passenger, too. Sir -Everard recognised the swing of the shoulders, the tall, -alert frame, the indefinable swagger, even though muffled -in the many-caped travelling coat.</p> - -<p>Young Bellairs was not going to Paris with a fair -companion!</p> - -<p>“Thank Heaven!” said Sir Everard.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER V</h2> - -<p class="ph1"><span class="smcap">In which Miss Pamela Pounce Demonstrates the<br> -Value of Virtue to her Family and her Friends</span></p> -</div> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">And</span> I’m sure, my dear,” said Mrs. Pounce, the tears -welling in her eyes as she gazed lovingly at her eldest -daughter, “’tis the golden girl you’ve been to us!”</p> - -<p>“Ah, you wait, mother!” cried Pamela. “Just you -wait! If I don’t finish paying off that there mortgage -with the new spring fashions, call me Tabbishaw, that’s -all I say.”</p> - -<p>The force of condemnation for vulgar stupidity could -go no further on Miss Pounce’s lips.</p> - -<p>Farmer Pounce, seated before the kitchen fire, turned -his big, grizzled head to cast a glance no less affectionate -than his wife’s upon the good daughter.</p> - -<p>“This time last year,” he said; then, in a ruminating -voice, “ah, ’twas a black look-out! As much as I could -do to squeeze the interest on the borrowed money and -the expenses of the new loan. And Sir Jasper, with his -eye on the farm this long while, turning the screw on me, -he and lawyer Grinder between them. Cruel hard terms -they made me, cruel hard, but there, ’twasn’t as if I -didn’t know their little game. Aye, aye, they were but -waiting, the both of them, to sell me up and get me out -of it all; the land my father’s father’s father called his -own.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Pounce wept at the mere recollection. Where -would they have been, they and the little ones, but for -the golden girl?</p> - -<p>Pamela winked away a bright tear of sympathy.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span> -Everything about this girl was bright; the spring of her -chestnut hair from her white forehead, which itself shone -as with a kind of luminosity, the glance of her full, shrewd -eyes, the smile that curved her lips. Oh, above all, it -was Pamela’s smile that was bright with the gaiety and -joy of life!</p> - -<p>“Pish, you dears,” she said now, and covered up her -emotion with just one of those flashing smiles. “Don’t -be making too much of it. All those months I wasted at -old Tabbishaw’s didn’t I know in my spirit it would all -come right? Wasn’t I sure the whole time”—she -played with her capable fingers in the air—“that there -was a fortune in these hands once I could get them proper -to work? And I tell you now, without vanity—oh, I -ain’t got a mite of vanity about it, ’tis my gift, the way -pigs is father’s gift—give me a yard of ribbon, a feather, -and a bit of straw, and I’ll turn you out two guineas -before you can say ‘knife.’”</p> - -<p>“Dear, to be sure,” mused Mrs. Pounce, forgetting to -knead her scones. “And think of the Christmas dinner -we’ve had. A turkey fit for the Queen’s table, though -I says it as shouldn’t. And me having to sell every one -of my lovely birds last year and keep father on the salt -beef, Christmas and all! And there’s Susie, such a -picture in the bonnet you trimmed for her, at morning -service, that I’d never be surprised if Farmer Fleet’s son -were to come to the scratch to-night at Sir Jasper’s barn -dance, I shouldn’t indeed.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve got a white cambric, mother, and blue ribbons -ready for her,” said Pamela, smacking her lips with gusto, -“and a Shepherdess Dunstable. If that don’t settle -him! ’Tis the very thing, so simple and fresh, a sort of -daisy-gown, father and mother, that’ll start Master Tom -thinking o’ dairies and the clean linen and the white flour -in the bin; and, ‘What a modest, nice girl,’ he’ll say, -‘The very wife for a farmer. No nonsense of cheap finery. -Only what a maid could buy for herself and stitch at -home,’ he’ll think, poor innocent, and it’s the model for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span> -the French Queen at Trianon, where she plays at milkmaid, -you’d never believe!”</p> - -<p>“Mercy on us!” said Mrs. Pounce, with an uncomprehending -stare. “Frenchies be queer people, to be -sure.”</p> - -<p>“And Jenny and Betty shall wear the sprigged muslin,” -pursued Pamela. “And my little pet, Peg, the robe-coat -I made her out of the odds and ends Madame Mirabel -gave me from her ladies’ counter.”</p> - -<p>“And what will you wear yourself, my dear?” asked -the mother, cutting her rolled-out paste into neat -rounds.</p> - -<p>“Is it me, mother?” Pamela hesitated. Then: “I -don’t mean to go,” says she.</p> - -<p>“Not mean to go?” screamed the farmer’s wife, -blank disappointment writing itself on her good-humoured -countenance.</p> - -<p>“Tut! tut!” cried the farmer, and wheeled himself -round in his chair.</p> - -<p>The London girl coloured, and a shadow came over her -face.</p> - -<p>“Some one’s got to stay at home and look after little -Tom,” said she stoutly, “and him but ten months old, -the poor fond lamb!”</p> - -<p>She glanced at the wooden cradle to the left of the -hearth, where, under a patchwork quilt, a chubby miniature -reproduction of the farmer was lying, with fists -clenched in a determined fashion, as if he defied anyone -to rob him of his repose.</p> - -<p>“Why, I never heard such nonsense!” Mrs. Pounce -gathered the cuttings of paste together and dabbed them -into a single lump with an irritable hand. “And who’s -minded little Tom, do ye think, all the hours, miss, that -I’ve got to be butter-making, plucking of geese, and -cutting up pig for the salting? Who but old Nance, my -love, who looked after yourself when you was no bigger -than the little ’un there?”</p> - -<p>“She’s getting very old,” said Pamela. “I caught<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span> -her nodding yesterday with the Blessing on her lap, and -he as near as anything into the cinders. Besides, my -mind’s made up, and there’s no use your trying to unmake -it. I’ve my reasons, and that’s all there is to -it.”</p> - -<p>“Why, Pam, why, lovey”—Mrs. Pounce had a grimace -like an infant about to cry—“you fair break my heart. -Why, ’twas all my thought, these days and days, how I’d -let neighbours see what a beauty my dear, good London -da’ter be, and as elegant as any lady!”</p> - -<p>“If you’ve got a reason for disappointing your mother, -out with it, girl, so it’s a good ’un,” said Farmer Pounce, -with some sternness.</p> - -<p>Pamela tossed her head. She was never one for -making mysteries.</p> - -<p>“Well, father and mother, if you must know so particular, -wasn’t that Sir Jasper Standish as was driving -the high curricle away from Pitfold Church this morning? -The stout gentleman, with the kind of red eye, and it -rolling?”</p> - -<p>“Aye, aye,” grumbled the farmer, “the very man, my -dear, and a hard gentleman he be. And queer tales -there are about him. ’Tis a good thing he comes to -Standish Hall but seldom. Aye, aye, ’twas him driving -them bloods in the curricle. And a mort of fine ladies -and gentlemen in the barouche. They’ll be staying -Christmas, I reckon.”</p> - -<p>“Aye,” corroborated Mrs. Pounce. “A twenty-pound -jar of my best salt, and six turkeys, no less, not to speak -of the geese—aye, and a ham, cured in that very chamber -in the chimbley, child. But, dear, to be sure, was you -set against meeting Sir Jasper just for the seeing of him -step into his curricle?”</p> - -<p>“You didn’t happen to note, mother, the gentleman -who stepped in after him?”</p> - -<p>Farmer Pounce and his wife exchanged a scared look, -and then by common consent transferred it to their -daughter. There was silence, broken only by the cheerful<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span> -song of the kettle on its chain over the embers, and -the stertorous breathing of the infant farmer in the -cot.</p> - -<p>Then, with a catch in her breath:</p> - -<p>“Well, child?” ventured Mother Pounce.</p> - -<p>Once more Pamela tossed her head. She was seated -at a corner of the kitchen table, needle, scissors, and -workbox at her elbow, and she turned and twisted the -lilac satin rosette in her hand.</p> - -<p>“Well,” she said at last, without looking up. “I -don’t happen to want to meet him, that’s all.”</p> - -<p>“How, my dear?” Mrs. Pounce shot a frightened -glance at her husband’s grim face, and another at her -daughter’s bright, bent head.</p> - -<p>“Ain’t the young gentleman a friend of yours?” she -asked faintly.</p> - -<p>Pamela snapped her thread.</p> - -<p>“You do want to know a lot, don’t you, mother dear? -But there! There’s no reason why I shouldn’t tell you. -I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of. That young gentleman -has the good taste to admire me a mortal lot, but he -ain’t got the good taste, in my opinion, to admire me the -right way. He came after me to Canterbury, knowing -I was due here for my Christmas holiday, and I sent him -packing, and, thinks I, ’tis done now, once for all, and -we’ll be the best of friends at a distance. And you could -have knocked me down with a feather when I see his -black eye roaming round the church this morning. Encourage -him by going with you to-night? That would -never do, Pamela, my girl! says I to myself, and——”</p> - -<p>“What dost mean by the right way, daughter?” -interrupted the farmer, who had been ruminating her -words, and not found them to his liking. The veins of -his forehead were swelled; the hand that gripped the -wooden arm of his chair shook.</p> - -<p>“I mean the wrong way. Now, father, don’t you be -a-working yourself up. I can look after myself, and -ain’t that just what I’m doing? Mother, I vow your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span> -cap will beat the one I made for the Duchess of Queensberry -all to nothing. Now, won’t the children be pleased -when they find those cakes all piping hot, mother? -They ought to be in soon now—back from Rector’s. -I’d like to try the little gown on my poppet ere you put -her to rest to-night.”</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>It was the first party Sir Jasper had invited to Standish -Hall since the death of his wife, and lavish as was his -hospitality, the loss of that incomparable woman had -never been more painfully felt. A widower-forlornness -was over everything. Dusty, flowerless, unkempt the -parlours; discomfort, an open negligence of refined -detail, the lack of the controlling hand, in fine, was -sensible to all his guests.</p> - -<p>The Christmas dinner was over, and the ladies had -retired. If you had cared to have examined the bottles -in rows on the floor, or the cut-glass decanters on the -table, you would have found that the company had drawn -considerably on Sir Jasper’s generous cellar, and had not -scrupled to mix very freely.</p> - -<p>Sir Jasper and his youngest male guest, Mr. Jocelyn -Bellairs, were at the height of an argument, egged on -and applauded by good-natured Squire Upshott, and -that saturnine rake, Sir James Devlin, while Lawyer -Grinder, from Canterbury, leaned back, smiling grimly, -his grey fingers round his glass, his grey eyes acute, his -large ears pricked outside his scratch wig for any business -advantage the holiday dissipation should lay open.</p> - -<p>“Pshaw! My dear fellow, the girl’s been three years -in Paris, I tell you! You’ll not have me believe she’s -better than her neighbours. Why, don’t I know all -about her? Isn’t her father squatting on a bit of land -that juts into my ring fence—’pon honour, like a fly in -a man’s honey—eh, Grinder? As handsome a slut as -I ever laid eyes on, if that’s the bouncer I saw at church -this morning. If you’re after her, lad, go in and win! -If not, step aside, and make room for your elders!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span>Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs took a draught from the beaker -in front of him, then cast rather a wild glance at his -host.</p> - -<p>“You!” cried he. “You step in with Pamela Pounce! -My dear Sir Jasper, I do not intend to be uncivil, but the -idea is too droll!”</p> - -<p>“How now? Is Miss so difficult? You know ’tis -but a milliner?”</p> - -<p>“Ay, I know more of her, I dare swear, than you do. -Difficult? Well, Sir Jasper, you or anyone may try -their chances so far as I am concerned—I would not give -that for them”—snapping his fingers. “Pure waste! -When I tell you that I have failed——”</p> - -<p>The unconscious cockscombry was greeted with a -shout of laughter.</p> - -<p>“Hark to him!” cried old Upshott.</p> - -<p>“Odds life!” jeered Sir Jasper. “You stimulate -me! So fastidious?”</p> - -<p>“Nay!” Young Bellairs flung a fine black eye about -him. “So virtuous,” said he, his voice sinking quite -an octave deeper than its usual gay note.</p> - -<p>There was another laugh; and then a silence; and -then Sir Jasper repeated drawling:</p> - -<p>“So virtuous? It all depends what the virtue is—eh, -gentlemen? There’s prudence, now—they tell me -’tis much practised of the French.”</p> - -<p>“What am I to take out of that, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Why lad, you may take it that Miss knows her value. -With all due deference to your good looks, you might fail -where one like myself might succeed.”</p> - -<p>“Meaning, Sir Jasper——?”</p> - -<p>“Meaning, Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs, that little milliners, -especially if they’ve been in Paris, may have learnt to -have an eye to the main chance.”</p> - -<p>There was again much and loud merriment. The -four other gentlemen looked at the one handsome youth -of the party as if it were agreeable to see his comb -cut.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span>“Gad, if there’s any betting going on it, I’ll back -Jasper,” said Sir James Devlin, with that cold smile of -his which seemed to blight where it rested. “But the -mischief’s in it, who’d take up the wager at such odds? -What? Sweet, penniless Romeo in the one scale, and -rich Sir Paris in the other, and Juliet a French milliner, -Pshaw!”</p> - -<p>“Why then, Sir James,” cried Mr. Bellairs. “Romeo -is none so penniless but that he can back his own word. -I’m ready to wager Sir Jasper this moment as much as he -cares to risk that Miss Pamela Pounce—who is not -French, sir, but good Kentish stock—will send him to the -right-about, as she has sent—aye, though ’tis I say it—a -better man! That all his money-bags will not weigh -this nutshell”—he crushed one under his clenched -hand on the mahogany as he spoke—“against her -virtue.”</p> - -<p>Sir Jasper grew red in the face; his eyes protruded, -his veins swelled.</p> - -<p>“Why, done with you, you poor innocent——”</p> - -<p>“Stay, stay,” intervened Sir James. “If there’s to -be betting, let’s do it proper, a’ Heaven’s name! <i>In -primo</i>, what is the wager to be?”</p> - -<p>Sir Jasper and Bellairs spoke together:</p> - -<p>“That pretty Pounce will pounce fast enough if it is -made worth her while,” cried Sir Jasper, with a guffaw. -And:</p> - -<p>“That Sir Jasper has about as much chance of Miss -Pamela Pounce’s favour as of the Princess Royal’s,” -asserted Bellairs.</p> - -<p>“Now, tut, tut!” Sir James Devlin shook his head -and clacked his tongue. “If I’m to draw up your wager, -gentlemen, you must, if you please, be a trifle less slipshod. -You can’t bet on a pun, Sir Jasper, nor you on a high-falutin’ -comparison to royal ladies, young man. You’ve -got to bet on facts, my lads. Say, that a week from to-day -we find the young person agreeably installed under -the protection of our host here, in—better say London—eh,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span> -Jasper? Might be a bit awkward, too close to Miss’s -family, what? Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs here to be given -ocular proof that circumstances alter cases. Let your -charmer ask him to tea in her new abode this day -week.”</p> - -<p>“Carry her off, carry her off, good old style. Tally-ho!” -cried the tipsy squire.</p> - -<p>“Capital idea!” Mr. Grinder shook with amusement. -“Run away with her! Carry her off, and keep -her from the hats and feathers, Sir Jasper, and I’ll see -that you get Little Pitfold at long last. We’ll foreclose -for the rest of the mortgage. Zounds, we will! Drat -that girl! She’s been paying off at an uncommon quick -rate. Took my breath away, she did. We had to give -old Pounce a couple of years for the look of the thing, -you remember—never dreaming—But there! Time will -be up next Lady Day, and”—he broke into dry chuckling—“if -you carry off the girl you’ll win your wager, -and get your land into the bargain. Kill two birds with -one stone.”</p> - -<p>Jocelyn Bellairs lay back in his seat with arms folded, -and a scornful smile on his countenance. He did not -care what conditions were imposed, and the higher the -stake the better for him. He was so sure of the result.</p> - -<p>Sir James Devlin had drawn out his tablets.</p> - -<p>“The wager’s plain enough now,” quoth he. “Sir -Jasper Standish wagers Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs that the -girl, Pamela Pounce, will give him a dish of tea this day -week, at an address hereafter to be determined, the said -Pamela Pounce being then established under the protection -of the said Jasper Standish. What are the -stakes?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, make it worth while!” eagerly cried Bellairs.</p> - -<p>Devlin gave him a keen side-glance.</p> - -<p>“’Tis scarce usual to make the stakes higher than you -can meet, Mr. Bellairs.”</p> - -<p>The young man flushed darkly. But before he could -reply:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span>“Odds my life,” exclaimed Sir Jasper. “Let’s -make it worth while! What say you to a thousand -guineas?”</p> - -<p>“Done!” cried Jocelyn eagerly. Then he added: -“I’d like to make a stipulation. If Sir James loses, let -him remit the rest of that mortgage first, whatever it is. -I’ll be content with the residue.”</p> - -<p>“’Pon my word, sir, that’s a strange proposal,” said -Sir Jasper, staring with an air which gave him an odd -resemblance to an incensed bull.</p> - -<p>“You can cry off the whole bet, if you’re afraid of it,” -taunted his guest.</p> - -<p>“Foh!” said Mr. Grinder. “’Tis but a matter of a -hundred and eighty-nine pounds, when all is said and -done. Never niggle at that, Sir Jasper. Go in, and -win! ’Pon me soul!” cried the old sinner, rubbing his -hands, “I’d sleep better in my grave if I thought the -Standish estate had got Pitfold at last.”</p> - -<p>“The stakes to be a thousand guineas,” murmured -Devlin as he wrote, “out of which Sir Jasper remits the -rest of Farmer Pounce’s mortgage, one hundred and -eighty-nine pounds and hands the residue eight hundred -and eleven, plus the shillings for the guineas, to Mr. -Jocelyn Bellairs. Any backers? Fifty guineas on -Jasper. Who’ll take me?”</p> - -<p>Squire Upshott was too far gone, and Lawyer Grinder -shook his head, so Sir James had to content himself with -jotting down: “No backers.”</p> - -<p>“Why, zounds!” exclaimed Sir Jasper, after he had -ruminated a while. “It seems that more hangs on this -betting to-night than the virtue of Miss, after all. What? -The farm that we Standishes from grandfather down -have vainly been trying to get hold of. That’s a fine -idea of yours, Grinder, odds my life, it is! A thousand -guineas besides, and as fine an armful—hark ye, Devlin, -did ye notice her this morning in church, as neat as a -chestnut filly? Foh! There’s blood in her, sir, there’s -blood in her, or I’m no judge——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span>He broke off. ’Twas a dashed superior smile on young -puppy’s face. What made the fellow so cocksure, in the -name of all that was sly? A sudden thought struck him.</p> - -<p>“Look you here, Master Bellairs,” cried he, with a -muffled roar. “No collusion! No putting your head -and Miss Pounce’s together to do me out of a thousand -guineas! Eh, Devlin? Eh, Grinder? No blanked -tricks!”</p> - -<p>Jocelyn’s nostrils quivered scornfully.</p> - -<p>“I give you my word of honour, Sir Jasper,” said he, -“to have no communication in private with the young -lady till your week is out.”</p> - -<p>“Come, come!” said Sir James. “Split me, Jasper, -we’re all gentlemen here!”</p> - -<p>The smile on the face of Mr. Bellairs became accentuated.</p> - -<p>“I’m ready to give Sir Jasper any guarantee,” said -he.</p> - -<p>“Deuce take him! He’s like a fellow with a card up -his sleeve!” thought Sir Jasper. “Word of honour, or -no word of honour, I’ll make Devlin keep watch for -me.”</p> - -<p>When they went upstairs to the splendid, neglected -drawing-room where Lady Barbara Flyte, her niece, Miss -Lesbia Ogle, and Mrs. Colonel Dashwood were waiting -to pour out tea for them, Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs showed -himself in high spirits.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Pamela, my girl!” cried he to himself, “that -was an angry look you cast at me across your prayer-book -this morning, a monstrous, unpeaceful kind of look -to a man of good will; but if this day’s work has not -wiped out old scores—A ‘filly,’ he called you. Aye, -you’ll come over the fence as clean as a bird. I’ve no -fear of you, my splendid girl, and you’ll be kinder to me, -I dare swear, when next we meet; but that won’t be this -day week, at any lodging paid for by Sir Jasper.”</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span>“Why, la, Sir Jasper, what a merry tune!” And -“Oh, Sir Jasper, what a strange, pretty place!” And, -“Why, Sir Jasper, ’tis the most Christmas sight I’ve -ever beheld!” And, “Pray, pray, Sir Jasper, don’t ask -me to trip it with your country bumpkins, for I vow and -protest I could never pick up those vulgar steps!” -And, “Oh, Aunt Bab, do but look at the pink roses in -Goody’s cap!” And, “Oh, Miss Ogle, you’re nowhere, -I declare, beside Miss in feathers yonder, plucked from -the old turkey before mother put it in the pot.” “You’re -too droll, Mrs. Dashwood!” “Do you think, Sir -Jasper, the buck in the top-boots would have me for his -partner if I simpered ever so sweet upon him?”</p> - -<p>Sir Jasper, moving in this fire of chatter, a lady on -each arm and Miss Lesbia Ogle hanging on his coat-tails, -appeared at the barn-door when he believed his guests -to be assembled. The merry tune to which Lady Bab -had alluded fell silent at his approach; there were curtseys -and dips and bows on every side, while the three -fiddlers mopped their streaming faces and, rising as one -man from the wooden bench on which they had been -seated in a row, duly ducked their shock heads to their -patron.</p> - -<p>Sir Jasper gave condescending smiles and short, indifferent -nods right and left, the while his eyes roamed, -seeking, this way and that. Here was old Mother Pounce, -right enough, as large as one of her own feather beds, in -a lace cap, if you please, mighty genteel, with lavender -knots. And Farmer Pounce in his red waistcoat; confound -the fellow, with his air of independence! Aye, was -there not a sort of triumph about him? Don’t cry till -you’re out of the wood, Mr. Yeoman! And split him, -what a row of young Pounces—a fine healthy litter! -And, ’pon honour, a monstrous pretty little chit in -white muslin with a straw hat! Pshaw! He had no -time to waste on silly seventeen. Where was their -agreeable bone of contention; where was the handsome -Pamela?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span>“How, now, yeoman, where is your elder daughter?”</p> - -<p>“At home, Sir Jasper,” answered the father, with the -brevity that declines discussion.</p> - -<p>“Sure, Sir Jasper,” put in Mrs. Pounce, conciliatingly. -“My daughter was vastly obleeged, but she was a trifle -fatigued this evening.”</p> - -<p>“She would stay and look after our Tom,” piped -Susie.</p> - -<p>“She preferred not to come, sir,” said Yeoman Pounce, -frowning.</p> - -<p>Sir Jasper’s brow had likewise gathered thunder-clouds. -His eyes rolled inward. One excuse contradicted another; -the farmer’s insolence voiced the truth. And -Master Jocelyn Bellairs, who had not accompanied his -host to the dance, because forsooth, it might be difficult -for him to keep his honourable pledge—Master Jocelyn -Bellairs, who had announced his intention of taking a -pleasure stroll this freezing Christmas night—Master -Jocelyn Bellairs, whose very presence at Standish Hall -demanded explanation; who was practically a self-invited -visitor, where was he? Pshaw, did they take -him for a fool? Was he to be mocked in his own house -and jockeyed by his own guest? Zounds! The whole -plot was clear in a minute. A plot it was; no wonder -Mr. Bellairs had that insufferable air of certainty. He and -his lady-love would soon be laughing over the thought of -how they had swindled him of a thousand guineas. And -what a spending time they would have together!</p> - -<p>If the revelation came swift as lightning to Sir Jasper, -no less swiftly did he make up his mind for action.</p> - -<p>It was a three-mile walk to Pitfold Farm. He would -have out his curricle, and his bloods, and be beforehand -with Bellairs.</p> - -<p>Some ten minutes later he was bowling along the frozen -road at the highest speed of his roughed horses, an -astounded groom beside him. Purpose was setting in -his mind as hard as the ice in the ditches. There was no -time like the present. He had a slippery pair of young<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span> -rascals to deal with. If he was to win his wager he must -carry off the girl this very night.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>He laid his plans with a wiliness which is not infrequently -a characteristic of gross natures. Conscious -in himself of a fine capacity for evil, such as he will be -suspicious of every one and everything; look for treachery -from his most trusted friend, and infidelity in the wife -of his bosom.</p> - -<p>He dismounted at the farmyard gate, and bade Job -Stallion, the groom, drive in alone and announce that -Sir Jasper Standish had sent the curricle for Miss Pounce, -as it was her father and mother’s pleasure she should -come to the dance.</p> - -<p>The ruse succeeded with a facility beyond his expectations. -Pamela had been finding the lonely evening -disconsolate enough. Baby Tom slept, while old Nance -displayed uncommon wakefulness. The time was heavy -on Pamela’s hands, and to while it away she had had the -happy thought of trying on the pretty garments which -she had prepared before Mr. Bellairs’ appearance in -church had made a call upon her prudence.</p> - -<p>Now the reaction which so often follows self-sacrifice -had set in. She was beginning to call herself a fool, and -to regret her excessive discretion. Thus when old Nance -laboured, panting, to the attic chamber, and supplemented -Job’s message with: “You’d never think of -saying nay now, Pam, my dear. Ain’t it Providence -you should just have been fitting on? And, oh, to be -sure, was there ever so pure lovely a gown? You’ll be -the belle o’ the ball, my dearie, that you will, and easy!”</p> - -<p>Pamela never hesitated at all. She caught her travelling-cloak -off the peg, and lifted her best feathered hat -from its bandbox—how could a milliner resist such an -opportunity?—pinned it on her auburn curls, cast herself -headlong down the stairs, out through the farm kitchen -like a whirlwind, and laughing, swung herself up on the -curricle beside the grinning Joe.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span>She was rather taken aback when this latter halted -outside the farmyard gate, and a portly figure appeared -from the shadow of the oak tree. Hat in hand, Sir -Jasper pleasantly saluted her.</p> - -<p>“Why, Miss Pounce, this is capital. Your father and -mother vowed you’d never come, but I said I was sure -so good a daughter would be obedient to her parents. -Nevertheless”—he was climbing up beside her in the -high seat, while Job shut the gates behind them—“I was -ready, you see, to exercise a neighbour’s persuasion, -should you persist in your cruel resolve. The ball would -be nothing without you, ’pon honour. There are half a -dozen fine young bucks with faces as long as my whip-handle -already.”</p> - -<p>By this time Job was up on the back seat, and his -master started the chestnuts at a pace that only his own -pride and temper would have urged upon them.</p> - -<p>“Oh, la!” cried Miss Pounce, and made a clutch for -her hat. She drew the pure keen air into her lungs, felt -the wind of their passage blow with the most delicious -invigoration against her face. “Oh, la! Was there -ever anything so beautiful? ’Tis the first time I have -driven by moonlight. ’Tis the first time I have ever -driven in a curricle! Oh, ’tis like flying, Sir Jasper! -Oh, what a night! I vow I feel like a bird!”</p> - -<p>The moonlight flooded the road, hedges and trees -sparkled and shimmered white as diamonds. The sky -was one mighty sapphire, darkly, wonderfully blue. -The stars, fainting in the moonlight, looked like the -thousand facets of a jewel.</p> - -<p>“Oh,” cried Pamela again, “I’ll make a head out of it -for the opera, I will indeed! Sapphire blue ribbands -and frosted silver feathers. ’Tis an inspiration.”</p> - -<p>This gave Sir Jasper his opening.</p> - -<p>“Why,” said he, “’tis a monstrous pity such a monstrous -fine girl as you should have to work for her living. -The moment I set eyes on you this morning, said I to -myself——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span>Pamela interrupted:</p> - -<p>“Keep your pity and your compliments, sir. They’re -wasted on me.”</p> - -<p>“Why, how now, I like your spirit. I vow, my dear, -’tis you are wasted on such a life.”</p> - -<p>“What if I like my work, sir?”</p> - -<p>“You were born to wear ’em—the fine hats—not to -make ’em. You were born to be a lady, that’s what I -said to myself the moment I clapped eyes on you this -morning.”</p> - -<p>“Foh! I know ’tis gentlemen’s way to start this kind -of silly talk whenever they get with a poor girl, but I -assure you, sir, I’ve no relish for it. And as for my being -a lady, I’ve seen too much of gentlefolk. I wouldn’t -thank the Lord to ha’ made me one.”</p> - -<p>She spoke with her head up and a straight back.</p> - -<p>“’Tis but gentlemen’s way,” she repeated to herself; -“but I’ll let him see he’ll have to respect me, lady or no -lady.”</p> - -<p>She gripped the rail of the curricle, not to give herself -courage—for she had no thought there was anything to -fear—but to brace herself the better against any further -presumption. She was quite unprepared, therefore, -when he turned his bloods away from the road leading -to Standish Hall, and, with a flourish of the whip, -sent them helter-skelter up the hill on the London -causeway.</p> - -<p>The cry she gave was one more of anger than of fear. -A solitary pedestrian, coming at a swinging pace along -the road which led from Sir Jasper’s residence, heard it, -and beheld the curricle as it topped the hill, fantastically -silhouetted in black against the moonlit sky. He gave -an answering shout, and started running. But he had -as much chance of overtaking the gig as if it had been -a bird on the flight. He gave up, panting, after a yard -or two, stamped his foot, shook his fist at the radiant -sky, and started running again in the opposite direction.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span>“Where are you taking me to?”</p> - -<p>Sir Jasper’s teeth and his eyeballs flashed horribly in -the silver light as he smiled upon Pamela.</p> - -<p>“You’ll be uncommon grateful to me one day, my -pretty little milliner.”</p> - -<p>“Good Heaven, what do you mean, sir?”</p> - -<p>“I dare swear you ain’t so far from being grateful now. -Oh, aye! ’Tis the regular thing to set up a hullaballoo, -but I’m not to be taken in by any tushery, and so I tell -you! You may scream till you’re blue, there ain’t a soul -on the roads to hear you, and as for kicking, ’tain’t easy -on a curricle, so, like a girl of sense let’s pretend you’ve -had your vapours, and you and I will have a glorious time -together. Why, who was talking of silver feathers? -’Tis golden chains I’ll give you, my splendid child; aye, -and a pearl each for your pretty ears—I can’t see ’em -under your hat, but I dare swear they’re pretty like the -rest—and maybe a diamond brooch for your kerchief. -And you shall have a house of your own and a pair of fine -London maids to wait on you, and I’ll take you about, -my dear, and you will have naught to do in the world -but enjoy yourself.”</p> - -<p>She listened in dead silence till he had finished, and then -without condescending to reply to him, turned her head -over her shoulder, and hailed the groom.</p> - -<p>“Job Stallion, Job Stallion,” she said, “your father was -reared on my father’s land. Will you see a Kentish girl -carried away to perdition against her will, and not lift -a finger to save her?”</p> - -<p>“Job Stallion,” said Sir Jasper, snatching a pistol from -the seat beside him, “if you unfold your arms you’re a -dead man.”</p> - -<p>Then Sir Jasper and the yeoman’s daughter stared into -each other’s eyes, each drawing long, fierce breaths -through dilated nostrils. Suddenly he laughed and -dropped the pistol back into its holster. Again he sent -his whip circling. The horses broke into a canter on the -downward slope, the light-hung vehicle swaying and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span> -leaping behind them. The very intensity of their speed -saved them from stumbling.</p> - -<p>At length Pamela said in a low voice:</p> - -<p>“At least I have a right to know where you are taking -me.”</p> - -<p>“Did I not tell you? To London.”</p> - -<p>“You do not think I am so simple as to believe you can -drive to London with these horses to-night?”</p> - -<p>“Why, of course not. We’ll stop at Ashford, and get a -chaise and four of the best posters money can hire. We’ll -be in London to-night, never fear. Hark, there’s nine -of the clock striking from Catterford Hill.”</p> - -<p>He pointed with his whip. Pamela saw the square -tower of the little church silver and black against the sky. -A lump rose in her throat. For the first and only time -that night a burst of hysterical weeping threatened to -overwhelm her.</p> - -<p>“I’m lost,” she said to herself, “if I don’t keep brave. -If I don’t keep my head, I’m lost.”</p> - -<p>No strong soul ever cries vainly on courage. The -anguish passed, her spirit rose.</p> - -<p>“Sir Jasper Standish,” said she, “why are you running -away with me? Tell me that.”</p> - -<p>“Won’t you believe I want to make a lady of -you?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then, the mere sight of that handsome face of -yours this morning has made me mad in love with you. -Will you believe that?”</p> - -<p>“Neither the one nor the other, sir. You see,” she -went on, “I am not kicking nor screaming, I am in your -power, and I can’t help myself. I think you’d find it -better for yourself, sir, and better for me, if you’d tell me -the truth.”</p> - -<p>Her quiet tone, the perfect composure of her face, very -pale and lovely in the moonlight as she turned it upon -him, struck some faint spark of generosity.</p> - -<p>“By Heaven!” said he admiringly. “You’re a well-plucked<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span> -one. The truth you want. Split me, ’tis all -true! But you’re right, there’s yet another reason. -I want to win a wager, my little darling!”</p> - -<p>“What wager, sir?”</p> - -<p>“You.” He grinned at her. “That spark of yours—he -is a spark of yours, ain’t he?—that fine young fellow, -Jocelyn Bellairs, he wagered you were too virtuous for a -man to have a chance with. But I wagered him you -wasn’t. Come now, you’re a good-hearted piece. Help -me to win my wager, and I’ll make it worth your -while.”</p> - -<p>Pamela reflected profoundly. Then she gave a little -laugh.</p> - -<p>“Why, Sir Jasper!” she exclaimed. “What sad, -wild creatures you gentlemen are! It comes to this, -then. I’ve got to make the best of a bad job.” Then she -swallowed hard, and said, with a still more sprightly air, -“You’ll give me a bit of supper at Ashford, I suppose, -for I’m mortal hungry.”</p> - -<p>He broke into hoarse laughter, and cried again that, by -Heaven, she was a well-plucked one, and they’d get on -first class; that she should have the finest supper the -Bear Inn could afford. If she’d stand by him, by Jingo, -he’d stand by her. There wasn’t a gentleman in England -who’d be such a friend to the woman who trusted him -as he would be to her.</p> - -<p>When they arrived at Ashford, she demanded, with a -sudden air of command, which became her, he thought, -mightily, and tickled his already high good humour to -positive hilarity, that she should be brought to a sitting-room -and partake of the meal in privacy while the post-chaise -was being got ready.</p> - -<p>“And,” quoth she, “let it be champagne, Sir Jasper, -since”—she gave him a wide, taunting smile—“’tis to -be made worth my while.”</p> - -<p>He flung an arm about her the moment the waiter had -withdrawn; she freed herself with a vigorous thrust, but -as she did so, she laughed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span>“Nay, drink your sillery, sir. Aye, pour me a glass. -Oh, aye, I’ll drink any toast you like. Have you not said -it yourself? I’m the best-natured girl in the world—so -long as you keep your place, sir. Why, ’tis the finest -pigeon-pie I’ve tasted since Paris. You know I was in -Paris, Sir Jasper?”</p> - -<p>Sir Jasper chuckled, winking at her.</p> - -<p>Her fingers clenched round her knife, the while her -smile would not have misbefitted the lips of a Bacchante.</p> - -<p>“And will you bring me to the opera, Sir Jasper? Oh, -and to Ranelagh? Oh, to think of me going to Ranelagh -on a gentleman’s arm, like a lady!”</p> - -<p>He was enraptured. He tossed the remainder of his -tumbler down, and filled himself a third, emptying the -bottle. He had almost forgotten the wager in the -intoxication of his personal triumph. Dash it! It had -not taken him long to cut out young Bellairs. What a -demnition handsome piece she was. There wasn’t one of -those raffish ladies he had left behind him at Standish -Hall could hold a candle to her. And odds his life! -What a pair of eyes she had, and what teeth, and what -a skin!</p> - -<p>Suddenly she dropped her knife and fork.</p> - -<p>“Sir Jasper,” said she, with an air of great gravity, -“I’ll not go a step farther with you unless you do something -for me.”</p> - -<p>“Name it, my dear.”</p> - -<p>“Why, sir, send Job back with a letter to my parents. -And ’twill be the best for yourself, I can tell you, as -matters stand. My father wouldn’t let the king rob him -of his daughter without a fight.”</p> - -<p>He stood staring at her doubtfully, his wide nostrils -scenting mischief like an irritated bull; she went on very -quickly, “I’ll not go a step farther with you unless you -do. Give me your tablets—gentlemen always carry -them, I know. You shall see for yourself what I -write.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span>“<i>Dear Father—don’t be alarmed, I’m going with Sir -Jasper for a wager. ’Tis a mere joke. He’s too grand -a gentleman to let harm come to me out of it.—Your -loving daughter, Pam.</i>”</p> -</div> - -<p>She read it to him. He went over it himself, then once -more tried to catch her to him, vowing she was as clever -as she was handsome.</p> - -<p>“Nay, nay, nay!” She was the most imperative, -tantalising creature possible to imagine. “Now, Sir -Jasper, run and give this to Job yourself. Stay, put a -guinea with it, to make the lad eager. Tell him to ride, -ride, ride, hell for leather! Isn’t that what you gentlemen -say? Hell for leather,” she repeated, laughing, as she -hustled him from the room. “Don’t come back to me -till you’ve seen him start.”</p> - -<p>He went. That third bumper of champagne on the -head of so many potations earlier in the day, after the -long, cold drive, had fairly stupefied him. He went, -because her strong will drove him, without attempting -to analyse her motive. For the moment his suspicious -brain was lulled to a kind of imbecile complacence. He -went pounding forth. As soon as the sound of his heavy -steps died away on the wooden boards, Pamela was out -of the room like a dart.</p> - -<p>She had seen the dark pit of the back stairs gape on the -passage as they had passed along to the sitting-room. -She was down it now, as sure-footed as if it had been lit -up. In another moment, past a pair of staring kitchen -sluts and a tapman, she was out in the back yard and -running along the village street.</p> - -<p>She always declared afterwards that she had been as -one guided. She did not pause to reconnoitre or hesitate -at a turning. Fleet and light as a shadow, she raced -through the alleys of the little town, deserted this Christmas -night, till she came to a point on the main road -which she knew Job Stallion must pass on his homeward -way, and then she hid herself.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span>She had not very long to wait before the beat of horses’ -hoofs resounded on the frozen ground. Hell for leather, -indeed! ’Twas the most egregious jog-trot that ever -took lazy groom and unwilling horse from warm quarters -on a Christmas night!</p> - -<p>Job Stallion let fly a terrified oath as Pamela rose out of -the ditch and laid a hand upon his bridle. He was -scarcely less alarmed when he discovered that he had to -do with neither wraith nor highwaywoman, but with his -master’s prize. She cut short his “darsents” and his -whimpering expostulations very sternly.</p> - -<p>“I am going to ride pillion behind you, Job Stallion, -and you must whip up that fat brute of a post-horse to -something of a canter, for you’ve got to carry me back -home before Sir Jasper can overtake us. Thank your -stars, my lad,” she went on, “that the Lord has given -you a chance of redeeming the night’s work, for I tell you -it would have gone hard with any who had a hand in it. -Men have been hanged for less!”</p> - -<p>She kept him busy with whip and spur till the old grey -mare wheezed and bucketed along the road at a pace -astonishing for her years and size.</p> - -<p>It was somewhere midway between Ashford and -Pitfold that they crossed Mr. Bellairs riding towards them -on his own rakish chestnut as if for a race. If Pamela’s -heart beat high at sight of him she did not avow her -pride and pleasure even to herself; if her bright, clear -heat of anger and triumphant determination gave place -to tender, womanly emotions, she betrayed no sign of -them. She postponed explanations, and issued instructions -to Mr. Bellairs as to Job Stallion in the accents -of one who means they shall be carried out.</p> - -<p>“You will kindly ride a hundred paces behind me, -Mr. Bellairs. I have no notion of having my name -mixed up with yours or Sir Jasper’s this night. As for -you, Job, hand me over that tablet. You can keep the -guinea for yourself. And you will drop me, if you please, -in the courtyard at Standish Hall, for ’tis not too late to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span> -join the dancers in the barn. And I mean there shall -be no talk on this night’s work, if I can help it.</p> - -<p>“If you breathe a word, Job Stallion, you’ll wish you -never were born, or my father’s name not Jeremy Pounce! -And as for you, Mr. Bellairs, sir, you’ve won your wager—yes, -I know all about it—so you owe me a good turn, I -think, and all I ask for is silence, silence! My father’s -a violent man, and it does no woman’s name any good—no, -not even a poor milliner’s—to be made such sport -of as mine betwixt you two gentlemen to-night. As for -Sir Jasper, I warrant he’ll hold his tongue. He don’t -cut so fine a figure!”</p> - -<p>And so it ended. Pamela went to the barn dance, -after all, and danced in vast condescension with several -agreeable young farmers. Jocelyn Bellairs got the -rector to introduce him to Mrs. Pounce, and sitting beside -that lady, made himself so agreeable that she was, as -she expressed it, quite in a twitter. Mindful of his word -passed to Sir Jasper, he did not again approach Pamela, -but the gaze with which he followed her about the long -room was eloquent enough.</p> - -<p>When the little Pounces had nearly yawned themselves -off the benches, and Pamela’s poppet, Peg, had gone to -sleep outright, her curly head on her mother’s ample lap, -it was the elegant young gentleman who conducted Mrs. -Pounce to the waiting farm cart, with as much courtesy -as if he were leading a duchess to her barouche. The -moon was set. The courtyard was fitfully illumined by -torches thrust into clamps in the wall, and by the shifting -rays of the lanterns carried by the revellers.</p> - -<p>As Pamela, standing by the cart, lifted Peg up to her -mother’s extended arms, while Mr. Bellairs obligingly -held the lantern, Sir Jasper’s curricle wheeled slowly -into the yard drawn by a pair of fairly exhausted -thoroughbreds. Without stirring from his high seat, -the reins slipping from his hands, Sir Jasper stared at -the picture painted on the night as at some spectral -vision.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span>“Why, here’s Sir Jasper!” cried an obsequious voice. -“Three cheers for Sir Jasper, lads!”</p> - -<p>Perhaps because his appearance had been as unexpected -as his disappearance, perhaps because the sight of his -dreadful face of wrath, flamingly illumined by the red -glare of a torch was enough to choke off any demonstration, -perhaps because he was too unpopular a landlord even -for so many glasses of negus and so many mince-pies to -counterbalance—however it may have been, there was -but a poor response; a faint cry, that rose and quavered -away. It was almost more deadly in its effect than an -execration. Sir Jasper rolled a bloodshot eye upon his -tenants and neighbours.</p> - -<p>“Blast you all!” he cried huskily, let himself drop -from his seat, and reeled towards the house.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>On New Year’s day Pamela returned to London, and, -on the day after, a summons to Yeoman Pounce to attend -at Mr. Grinder’s office in Canterbury caused some perturbation -to the inmates of Little Pitfold. But when he -returned he brought astounding intelligence.</p> - -<p>“You’ll never believe it, wife!” he cried from the -threshold, “but the mortgage is paid off! Buss me, -mother, we’re free of our own again!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, ’tis our Pam! ’Tis that best of children! Oh, -the surprise, father! Oh, the slyness of it, never telling -us a word! Oh, was there ever so good a girl?”</p> - -<p>“Lawyer Grinder,” said the farmer, letting himself -drop heavily in a chair, “kept a close mouth. He wasn’t -at liberty, those were his words, to say who it was as had -paid it off. ‘But paid off it is, and that’s enough for you, -farmer,’ says he. ‘I reckon I know whom I’m beholden -to,’ I says, ‘and I’ll tell you plain, lawyer,’ says I, -‘I’m not a man as ’ud be beholden without it was to one -who, so to speak, be but paying back what’s due to a -parent.’ At that he smiles on the wrong side of his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span> -mouth, after his fashion, wife, none best pleased, I can -tell you. As for Sir Jasper—well, he won’t get hold o’ -Little Pitfold nohow now!”</p> - -<p>When Mrs. Pounce wrote to Pamela in London the -letter was very full of blessings on a good daughter.</p> - -<p>“And your father is so out of himself with joy, my dear, -’tis a new lease of life.”</p> - -<p>And Pamela smiled as she read. Her lover, now very -respectful, though by no means less ardent, had told her -the story of the wager. Who was to say, after all, that -she had not paid off the mortgage? As for the rest, she -knew when to speak and when to be silent.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VI</h2> - -<p class="ph1"><span class="smcap">In which my Lady Kilcroney Strikes a Match and<br> -Miss Pounce Throws Cold Water on it</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> late Lady Standish was one of my Lady Kilcroney’s -earliest friends.</p> - -<p>When Kitty first burst upon society in the select -precincts of Bath—then the fabulously rich, unpardonably -pretty, delightful, audacious, amazing little Widow -Bellairs—Julia Standish was scarce a three weeks’ bride.</p> - -<p>From the very beginning Kitty’s endeavour had been -to insert some backbone into the lovely but invertebrate -Julia, and once, in despair, she had summed up the -situation by exclaiming: “That ’twas like trying to -mould too soft a jelly: the moment you thought you had -her into shape, she was deliquescent again.”</p> - -<p>Therefore, though the connection was long and close; -though Kitty, whether as Mistress Bellairs or my Lady -Kilcroney, counted no party complete without her Julia; -though, when in town together, scarce a day could pass -upon which Julia, driven by the stress of some overwhelming -emotional crisis, did not fling herself, weeping, -upon Kitty’s breast, it could not be said that my Lady -Kilcroney was very ardently attached to Lady Standish, -or that her death, sad and premature as it was, plunged -her in any depth of sorrow.</p> - -<p>The truth was that Julia Standish, elegant and virtuous, -fair to look on and fond of feeling, belonged to the class -that wear out the affections by over-usage. The stuff -of Kitty’s sturdy good comradeship had been worn so -uncommonly thin, that at the time of Julia’s lamented<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span> -death scarcely enough had been left between them to -make a darn worth while.</p> - -<p>Kitty liked life in a strong brew, and Lady Standish -wept into her cup so persistently that there was nothing -left but salt water.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, when the news of the irreparable event -reached her, my Lady, being the best-hearted little woman -in the world, wept herself for quite three minutes, and -then, dispatching her Lord to see what service he could -be to poor Sir Jasper, ordered her sedan and had herself -deposited at Madame Mirabel’s in Bond Street, to order -a black bonnet and mourning mantle for the funeral.</p> - -<p>My Lord had set out on his melancholy errand with a -dutiful concealment of its intense distastefulness.</p> - -<p>He thought Jasper’s case the most confounded dreadful -a man could be placed in, and shrank, with all his Irish -softness, from the spectacle of a woe beyond his consolation.</p> - -<p>He found matters even more tragic than he anticipated. -The last word Sir Jasper’s incomparable Julia murmured -to him, as, her hand in his, she left him for a better world, -was to remind him of his promise never to replace her. -This pledge had been exacted many times during the -seven years of their existence together, but never more -solemnly than in the hours that had preceded her demise.</p> - -<p>From the moment of her seizure—spasms on the lungs—to -that last breath, Sir Jasper had been in unremitting -attendance. Every physician of note had been summoned -to her bedside; but, in spite of all the resources of science, -bloodings, blisters and cuppings, pills and potions, poor -Julia Standish persisted in succumbing. He was the -most afflicted of widowers! She had been the pearl of -wives. No woman could ever compare with her in the -whole world again. He was a blasted man. Console -himself! he roared. That angel, that departed saint -need have put him to no promise. She might sleep in -peace; her Jasper was henceforth naught but a solitary -mourner. What was left him, indeed, but to live for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span> -his little ones, those five pledges of their mutual affection; -to rear them worthy of such a mother, and, his task -accomplished, take his broken heart to lie beside her in -the grave? “For I will be buried with my Julia,” he -cried upon each fresh gush of tears.</p> - -<p>“Faith,” said Lord Kilcroney to his Kitty, describing -the scene to her when they met again, “she’s dropt her -mantle upon him with a vengeance. Wasn’t it the -watering-pot you used to call her, me darling? The -poor lady. He caught me by the neck a while ago, and -troth he soaked me to the skin. ‘She was the most -elegant woman!’ cries he. ‘She was that, me lad,’ -says I. ‘And the most virtuous!’ cries he, with another -gulp. ‘Aye, that she was,’ cries I. And sure, Kitty, -if ever a poor soul made virtue tedious and dismal——”</p> - -<p>“Hush, hush!” my Lady Kilcroney interrupted. -“Speak no ill of the dead, sir. Poor Julia, she was a -fond, foolish creature, but she was an old friend, and, -’pon honour. Denis, I’m crying for her myself. ’Tis -but fitting indeed, that Sir Jasper, who was a sad, bad -husband, my love, and would have given any woman -red eyes, should mourn her now.”</p> - -<p>“’Tis the frantickest widower I ever met. Mourn, -quotha! ‘How shall I survive?’ is all his cry, and to -see him going on that way, you’d scarce give him a -sennight.”</p> - -<p>“Psha!” said Kitty. “Such frantick fits never last. -I give him a sennight, my Lord, to—to dry his eyes and -look about for number two.”</p> - -<p>“’Pon me honour, Kitty, you’re out of it! Didn’t -she extract a promise from him, the dying angel, that -he’d never look at woman again, and as for marriage——”</p> - -<p>“And if that isn’t Julia all over!” cried Kitty indignantly. -“And he with five children! A man of Sir -Jasper’s temperament! Tush! Pooh! And were I -on my death-bed, Denis, ’twould be the last of my wishes -to lay such a monstrous bit of nonsense on your spirits. -Why, ’twould be but tempting you to perjury. Yes,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span> -you—or any other man. ‘Look out for a well-bred -creature, pray,’ I would say, ‘and a healthy, that she -be kind to our little Denis, and pick her sensible, for the -Lord’s sake.’ Now, Sir Jasper, mark my words ... I -give him a week to bellow, and, after that—observe me—he -will be found at such common, low places as a cockfight, -or a bruising match, with a kerchief high about -his neck, and a hat down on his eyes. And he will, like -as not, make expeditions to Bristol and Plymouth, where -he is less known, and where a man may attend a bit of -sport without his friends’ eyes upon him. Do I not know -your masculine ways, my Lord? And by and by he -will be found at the clubs, at the cards, and the betting; -and however lugubrious he may show his countenance, -and however sadly he may heave his sigh when he first -appears, ’twill wear off marvellous! And oh, and oh,” -cried Kitty, breaking into wrathful laughter, “then -there will be never such a buck on the town, nor one -with such an eye for petticoats, as your disconsolate -widower!”</p> - -<p>“’Tis a biting tongue ye have in your head, me darling,” -said Kilcroney, half admiring, half displeased.</p> - -<p>“Before the year is out,” concluded my Lady -triumphantly, “’twill be the duty of all his friends, aye, -and of poor dear Julia’s, who care for the welfare of her -children, to see that he is safe wed. I shall look to it -myself, I owe it to the memory of poor dear Julia!”</p> - -<p>Kitty broke off. Her glance roamed. A frown -corrugated her white forehead. Kilcroney saw that she -was mentally seeking, among all her acquaintance, for -a substitute with the desired qualifications.</p> - -<p>About the time of Sir Jasper’s bereavement, that -distinguished peer, my Lord Ongar, put off this mortal -coil. The title and fortune passed to a nephew, and it -was found that his widow, and the daughter who was yet -too young to have left the parent nest, were singularly -ill-provided for. My Lady Ongar, who was a Frenchwoman, -was in poor health; and much sympathy was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span> -felt for her situation, as well as for that of the little Lady -Selina, who, on the threshold of presentation to the -world, found herself suddenly at so great a disadvantage. -It was true that both her sisters had made good marriages; -one to Lord Verney, who had a house in town as well as -country property; the other to Squire Day, of Queen’s -Compton. But then, as Kitty Kilcroney said, who, that -had a heart in her breast, could suggest placing a high-spirited -girl under the charge of Susan Verney? “For -sure, my dear, somewhere back there must have been -a slave-driver among her ancestors. And as for Nan -Day, was she not lost in domestic bliss? and no one -ought to expect pretty Selina to bury herself in haycocks -and babies—other people’s babies!”</p> - -<p>It was owing to the Viscountess Kilcroney’s influence -that the young lady was offered a post about the Princess -Augusta, the second of the bevy of beautiful Royal Princesses; -for, since assuming her duties as Lady-in-Waiting -to Queen Charlotte, Kitty had vastly pleased Her Majesty -in that capacity.</p> - -<p>Not indeed that my Lady Kilcroney, who now had her -own personal experience to go by, approved of Court life -as a career for any young unmarried female. ’Twas -monstrous cramping, she declared to those who had her -complete confidence; and the Royals, perfect beings as -they were, and gratifying as it was to be chosen to serve -them, had a fashion of very naturally considering themselves -paramount, and their favour the chief benefit of -existence.</p> - -<p>“I’ll not have the child’s youth sucked out of her,” -quoth my Lady, in the strict privacy of her chamber, to -the grunting Denis, who himself disliked the Court and -all its ways with a large intolerance, born of its demands -on his Kitty. “But a year, my love, ’twill give her a -certain stamp of elegance. We can scarce look for a -very great marriage for our Selina, with never two farthings -in her pocket, but there are a vast of pleasant -gentlemen of the second rank who water at the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span> -mouth at the thought of anything favoured by -Royalty.”</p> - -<p>It was not till Lady Selina had been some nine months -in her new post, and Sir Jasper Standish well-nigh a year -a widower, that the great idea flashed into Kitty’s mind.</p> - -<p>Sir Jasper was a personable man, and had not yet -topped thirty-five; a very prime age for a bridegroom -with the greenness of youth cast off, the tedium of maturity -not yet as much as dawned. With your man of -thirty-five it is a point of honour to be as ready with the -generosity of youth as the lad of twenty, especially should -his fancy turn to sweet seventeen. He will have gained, -however, a vast experience, and, unless he be a fool, a -seasoned judgment. Sir Jasper was no fool; and though -he had so far justified my Lady Kilcroney’s prognostications -as to be more conspicuous at any dashing sport-meeting -than ever before, he kept chiefly in the company -of his own sex, and never so much as noticed the passage -of the most flouncing petticoat; and who was more likely -to know than Kitty, since she was the only lady in the -world whose society the widower now frequented?</p> - -<p>At first the talk would be all of his Julia; but in a -little while lamentations gave way to more cheerful discourse -anent the young family.</p> - -<p>It was in her capacity of godmother to little Kate -Standish that, a due interval having elapsed since the -loss of their ever-to-be-regretted Julia, Kitty Kilcroney -first addressed Sir Jasper on the subject of a second -marriage. She was, of course, quite prepared for the -shocked refusal which met her.</p> - -<p>Was it possible my Lady Kilcroney should not be -aware of the solemn vow, by which he had pledged himself -to his Dying Treasure, to remain ever faithful to her -memory?</p> - -<p>My Lady Kilcroney was very well aware of it. Heaven -knew, she exclaimed, rolling her pansy eyes towards the -ceiling of her drawing-room—she was for the while free -of her Court duties, and was established in the Hertford<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span> -Street mansion—Heaven knew, if ever there was anyone -in the world who could appreciate what a second marriage -meant to a true mourner it was she! When Bellairs -went—“Ah, you never knew my first, Sir Jasper! The -most excellent, the most estimable, the most generous -and noble-minded of men. There was not a condition -in his will, I do assure you! Everything, everything -left to me! ‘<i>My dearest wife, Kitty, in token of the -perfect happiness she gave me.</i>’ Those were his words, -Sir Jasper. But a year’s happiness, alas! and he, poor -seraph, scarce able to endure anyone in the room with -him with the gout so cruel settled in his joints that, if -you’ll believe me, his feet were like nothing so much as -warming-pans, and his hands—my poor Bellairs’ hands, -why, there were days when he could not have borne that -a butterfly should settle on them! When my cherished -martyr was released from his sufferings, did I not, like -you, vow in my heart that I never, never would replace -him?”</p> - -<p>Here Kitty fixed her eyes upon Sir Jasper’s lugubrious -countenance, and, positively, though her tone was filled -with such pious melancholy, they twinkled.</p> - -<p>“I fail to see the analogy, my Lady Kilcroney,” said -he huffily. “My Julia was as young as she was fair, as -elegant in form as she was virtuous in character.”</p> - -<p>“True, true, Sir Jasper! Bellairs became, very shortly -after our espousals, a wreck, an absolute wreck. But he -retained the most admirable amiability of temper. ’Twas -indeed that which first drew my heart to him. ‘My -dear,’ he said to me, ‘when I heard that my poor old friend -Ned had gone smash, and shot himself, and left a little -daughter without a farthing to buy a ribbon with, I cast -about in my mind what I should do to help her. And, -faith, I can think of no better way, my dear, than to make -a rich widow of you.’ And then he set to laughing in -his droll, wheezing way. ‘I’m game for a year,’ says -he, ‘if you can stand the old man for a year,’ says he. -‘I’ll put you in the way of getting the best the world<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span> -can give you; honour and good repute, and wealth and -a young husband in due time—better than if your poor -father had kept out of indigo. If you’ll trust me, I’ll -trust you,’ says he. And my dear Bellairs kept his word -royally. He’d never so much as a suspicion of me; or -aught but a smile for my pleasures.” Here a tear suddenly -flashed. “I’m proud to say,” cried Kitty. “I -deserved his confidence. Is there ever anything so -beautiful in life as wedded trust?”</p> - -<p>Sir Jasper went home thoughtful. His Julia had had -every merit, but if she had had also just the tiniest part -of Bellairs’ the Nabob’s generosity of mind, would he, -could he have so often—as alas! he had! But there -were times when he had been goaded, indubitably driven, -to seek distraction. Angel as she had been, to what -screaming vapours, what swoons had she not treated -him? How often also—here he held his head higher, -and made a knowing thrust at a door post with his gold-headed -walking-stick as he went by—had she not suspected -the vilest deeds when he had been as innocent as -the lambs in the field?</p> - -<p>“You cannot,” said Sir Jasper, sapiently to himself, -as his marital crimes appeared before him suddenly -transmogrified into peccadilloes. “You cannot be said -to betray a trust that has never been reposed in you.”</p> - -<p>Next time my Lady spoke of matrimony to the -bereaved, it was in the tone of one who regrets a rash -determination, but recognises its binding quality.</p> - -<p>“What a pity, Sir Jasper, you should have been led -into such fond folly! To take such a vow! Irrevocable -of course. Who would have the dreadful courage to -suggest the breaking of a pledge to one who is now among -the saints. What if a father’s duty points one way? that -death-bed obligation sternly points the other.”</p> - -<p>She pitied Sir Jasper—she did indeed. How was a -man, and he so young, to deal with five children, and they -with all the difficulties of life before them; character, -education and—heavens!—illnesses? Measles and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span> -mumps, hectics and whooping coughs, and all the rest of -it! “Poor Julia, could she but see now to what her intemperate -passion for you has led! If our Julia had a -fault—dare I say it, Sir Jasper?—she was a little, leetle -inclined to jealousy.”</p> - -<p>When Kitty returned to Queen’s Lodge, to take up -service with Her Majesty, Sir Jasper and she had come -to discussing very freely the kind of person who might be -regarded as worthy to fill their dearest Julia’s shoes.</p> - -<p>Kitty was full of suggestions, but, one way or another, -the paragons enumerated by the lady were never to the -gentleman’s taste.</p> - -<p>When Lady Selina joined the Court circle, she was, if -truth be told, the very last young female whom Kitty -could in conscience have selected as a fitting companion -for a widower of Sir Jasper’s kidney, or the proper kind -of stepmother to his peevish brats. Nevertheless when -the idea came, it was with the brilliant conviction of a -flash of lightning.</p> - -<p>Selina Vereker was not dark and masterful like Susan -Verney, nor was she soft and warm-hearted, all feminine -impulse and charm, like Nan Day. She was a bold piece, -Kitty had decided from the first, with a short nose and -a short temper, and hair under her powder as blazing as -Sir Jasper’s own, and a grey eye that possessed a certain -cold, reflective audacity which made Kitty thoughtful. -She was a judge of minxes. Withal the creature if not -pretty, was mighty attractive; with a little head on a -white throat, and a way of tossing it; slim, long limbs -like a boy, and a freedom of movement inside her voluminous -skirts that was almost unbecoming to her sex. -And the tiresome child was in a hundred scrapes, and in -Royalty’s black books before she had been a fortnight -at her duties. This was unpleasant for Kitty, who had -recommended her. And, as she had a kind heart, it -filled her with apprehension for the future. For if anything -so awful were to happen as that Selina should fall -into serious disgrace and be dismissed from Court, what<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span> -in the world would become of her? So poor, so naughty, -and so innocent; with a pair of selfish sisters, and her -mother retired to a convent! Why, with Royal displeasure -upon her, never could she hope to ally herself -to a genteel family!</p> - -<p>Sir Jasper! Was not the man to her hand? He -deserved a wife with some fire in her, after having so long -endured the deliquescent Julia, and he deserved too, sad -rake that he was, something with a temper of her own -to keep him to attention and in his place.</p> - -<p>“To heel, sir, or beware, there are other fine fellows -in the world who are ready to appreciate what you have -the bad taste to neglect.”</p> - -<p>Her mind made up, Kitty set to work with a transparent -artifice, to which only the blundering male would -fall a prey.</p> - -<p>“Pray come to tea, to-morrow, sir—or stay, perhaps -better not, for I have Princess Augusta’s Maid-of-Honour, -the little Selina Vereker, and, oh no, I would not for the -world that you should meet!”</p> - -<p>“And why, pray?”</p> - -<p>“La, Sir Jasper, and you on the look-out for a new -Lady Standish! You might fall in love with her, to be -sure.”</p> - -<p>“And what then, my Lady Kilcroney?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Sir Jasper, Sir Jasper, that would never do!”</p> - -<p>“And why not, ma’am?”</p> - -<p>“But eighteen, sir.”</p> - -<p>“I see no objection there.”</p> - -<p>“Fie, Sir Jasper, and you turned thirty-six!”</p> - -<p>“But thirty-five my last birthday, ma’am, as I’m a -sinner.”</p> - -<p>“A sinner, indeed, Sir Jasper, and now you have it. -What? Would you, sir, mate with innocence, guilelessness; -lamb-like light-heartedness, and sprightliness; -you with——?”</p> - -<p>“Come, come, my Lady Kilcroney. I’ve not been a -model husband, I dare say.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span>“I dare say not, sir. Heavens, my poor Julia!”</p> - -<p>“Your poor Julia, ma’am, would have driven a saint—Pshaw! -She was too good for me!”</p> - -<p>“Believe me, sir, you should wed a young lady of some -experience, if not a widow; a staid female, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, my Lady, I’m vastly obliged, I’m sure.”</p> - -<p>“And you so jealous, Sir Jasper, who could scarce even -trust virtue’s self, in the shape of Julia! La, to think -of you with Selina—such beauty, Sir Jasper; such -grace, such charm, so ready to take the pleasure of her -years, so pure ignorant of the world’s ways.”</p> - -<p>“Good heavens, my Lady Kilcroney, if I do not come -to your tea-party to-morrow, ’twill be that I am a dead -man.”</p> - -<p>“Do not say you were not warned,” said my Lady, -and had the laugh of scorn to herself to see with what -conquering airs Sir Jasper glanced at himself in each -mirror when, departing, he crossed the long length of her -drawing-room at Queen’s Lodge.</p> - -<p>The pretty Maid-of-Honour and the already foresworn -widower duly met over Kitty’s bohea, next afternoon. -Sir Jasper duly fell head over heels in love; and before -the week was out, they were engaged to be married. -Royalty approved, my Lady Ongar gave her consent -with tears of joy; and both Susan Verney and Ann Day -sent cool sisterly sanction.</p> - -<p>Having secured her victim Kitty prepared herself to -enjoy every moment of the delightful process of decking -her for the sacrifice. What woman but does not feel that -in the trousseau lies the true inward satisfaction of the -bridal state? To a benevolent heart like my Lady -Kilcroney’s the choice of Lady Selina’s garments, the -proper expenditure of the funds entrusted to her for the -purpose by the widowed mother offered a task in which -duty went hand in hand with delight. Generous soul -that she was, she promptly decided to supplement the -Dowager’s exiguous allotment by a contribution of her -own: secretly, so as not to hurt the poor child’s feelings,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span> -but to an extent which should in her estimation befit the -wedding of a maid-of-honour under the protection of the -Lady Kilcroney.</p> - -<p>Needless to add that to bring Selina to Pamela Pounce -was almost the first of her desires as self-elected Fairy -Godmother. Who but Pamela indeed, could set out a -Bride so that her appearance on the great morning should -be an event in the world of Fashion? Pamela under -Kitty’s instructions—there never was such a combination -of intellect!</p> - -<p>My Lady Kilcroney as she drove up through the bright -sunshine from Windsor was filled with anticipations so -agreeable and exciting that she had little thought to -spare for the silence and irresponsiveness of the girl -beside her.</p> - -<p>Selina had a delicious little countenance, even though -she was sulking heavily; so when her glance strayed -reflectively upon her my Lady found nothing in the contemplation -to disturb her equanimity.</p> - -<p>It was the first time in its annals that the House of -Mirabel beheld a carriage with the Royal liveries halt -before its portals, and the flutter in its discreet walls -was indescribable.</p> - -<p>Madame Mirabel herself catching sight of the scarlet -splendour, through the first floor window, was seized with -the trembles, and had to send Miss Clara Smithson for a -glass of ratafia out of the back parlour cupboard before -she could control her limbs sufficiently to walk downstairs. -It was true that her immense agitation was -promptly allayed by Miss Polly Popple, who put her -head in at the door to say:</p> - -<p>“It’s only my Lady Kilcroney after all, what’s brought -a pale Miss for a wedding hat. So don’t you put yourself -about, Madame Mirabel, and Miss Pounce that cool -it don’t look as if her opinions were what they ought to -be, and gracious goodness where is the roll of silver -ribbon came from Lyons? I laid it out of my hand, -Clara, when I ran up a while ago about Mrs. Lafone’s bill,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span> -and him giving all sorts in the showroom. I wouldn’t -be married to an elderly gentleman what’s miserly not -for—where’s the silver ribbon for mercy’s sake? There’s -the bell going after me like mad. Thank you, dear. -Don’t put yourself about, Madame Mirabel—who ever -told you it was the Queen! It’s only my Lady Kilcroney—drat -it, there it goes again—I’m coming.”</p> - -<p>Pamela Pounce had caught a glimpse of Kitty’s dainty -profile behind the misleading scarlet as the Queen’s -barouche halted; and it was with her usual graceful -self-composure that she swam forward to curtsy to her -patroness. Four steps and a nicely graduated obeisance, -with just an undulation which included my Lady’s companion, -Pamela had a perfect command of the correct -attitude. Then she waved her hand.</p> - -<p>“Chairs, Miss Popple. Pray be seated, ladies.”</p> - -<p>Then, with a pretty spring of alacrity in manner and -voice, a most respectful yet delightfully confidential -approach to familiarity:</p> - -<p>“And what can I show your Ladyship to-day?” cried -she. “There’s the sweetest head, a twist of cherry tulle -with a bunch of green grapes, just come from Paris—made -for your Ladyship.”</p> - -<p>Kitty waved the tempting suggestion on one side. -“Nothing for me to-day, my dear creature. I’ve brought -Lady Selina.”</p> - -<p>Selina, who had entered, stood and sat down like an -automaton with every reason to be dissatisfied with its -surroundings, here gave her patroness a steely look of -enmity, and then cast down her eyes so that their long -eyelashes cast a shadow on her white cheek.</p> - -<p>Pamela appraised the small set face and Kitty proceeded -to expound; “The fact is, Miss Pounce, I am -here with Lady Selina for a wedding order.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed, my Lady.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed,” cried Kitty, warming to her subject, -“the wedding hat, no less, child, and the going away! -Oh! And a head for the dinner party I mean to give<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span> -in honour of the engagement. Princess Augusta has -promised to attend. And the wedding is to take place -from my house in Hertford Street, Pamela, the very -moment May is over. What with my Lady Verney -having a feeling about the mourning, and my Lady -Anne Day so set about with measles in her nursery, -there isn’t anyone as near to this dear girl as myself, if -it’s reckoned by old friendship.”</p> - -<p>Here Kitty paused for breath and after duly waiting -for Lady Selina to express some acknowledgments of -these handsome sentiments, Pamela, in the young person’s -persistent mutism, was fain to remark that there was no -one like her Ladyship for kindness, that she knew. And -though this was but a deferential murmur, there was -conviction in it. Pamela had every reason for this -testimony.</p> - -<p>Kitty glanced askance at the bride’s most unbride-like -countenance; she faintly shrugged her shoulders. None -of the Verekers had good tempers and she was not going -even to notice Selina’s moods.</p> - -<p>“A wedding hat.”</p> - -<p>Pamela pondered upon the bride, while her quick -brains worked.</p> - -<p>(“Dear to be sure, the poor young lady! One would -think ’twas her funeral things they were getting together. -Who are they going to marry her to? And why is my -Lady Kilcroney managing it all, and that mortal tickled?) -I wouldn’t recommend white satin for my Lady Selina,” -she said out loud, “though I know it’s the usual thing, -my Lady. And if I might venture, it wouldn’t do to be -putting dead white next her face. No, my Lady Kilcroney, -no, my Lady Selina, not if you was to rouge ever -so and <i>that</i> would be a thousand pities; my Lady’s skin -is a treat to look at. And it’s her <i>cachet</i> to be pale with -those dark eyes—excuse me, my Lady, for dropping into -French, it’s a way I got into in Paris. Now I’d like -lace.” The milliner spoke slowly as if she were tasting -one by one, the condiments of an exquisite dish. “A<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span> -fine brim of real lace, my lady, with a tulle lining, three -layers of tulle, and the middle one pale pink. Oh, pale, -pale, pale.” Pamela twiddled her fingers in the air, -mitigating the colour till it faded into nothingness. “The -tint they’re calling in Paris, <i>cuisse de nymphe émue</i>. -Excuse me, my Lady, I won’t be so bold as to translate -it. Yes, your Ladyship, the French have droll minds! -But your Ladyship has seized the idea; not pink, but -just a warmth, a lightening of the white, ’twill be exquisite. -A twist of silver ribbon to hold it together—Miss -Popple, where’s that silver ribbon that came from -Lyons? I have a model here,” went on Pamela, stooping -to pull out one of the deep drawers of the cupboard which -ran the length of the room, and in which the most special -treasures in the millinery line were hidden away from -the ordinary public, only to be brought out for the -favoured. “I have a model here which is the very -latest, out of Paris. It’ll never be seen at all, so to -speak, till next month, and that on a Queen’s head.”</p> - -<p>Queen Charlotte’s Lady-in-waiting sprang up and -tripped across the carpet to stand by the milliner’s side.</p> - -<p>“It must be worth while for a female of Fashion,” my -Lady was thinking, “to have a post about Queen Marie -Antoinette, always the first in the land in modes and in -looks as in everything else.”</p> - -<p>Now Lady Selina Vereker, hearing the two women -whisper as they stood together, lifted her eyes and -watched and hearkened very intently.</p> - -<p>“The young lady’s just engaged I take it,” said -Pamela, shaking the tissue paper from a cobweb vision -of blue tulle and lace.</p> - -<p>“’Twas only ratified by Lady Ongar last night, from -her retreat at Wimbledon. (They say it’s a convent of -nuns my dear, but ’tis not generally known.)”</p> - -<p>“Dear, to be sure, the poor lady!”</p> - -<p>Here Kitty lowered her voice, but Selina’s irately -keen ears caught the murmur.</p> - -<p>“Sadly ill-provided for. My Lord Ongar’s affairs in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span> -a desperate state. Hardly a brass farthing between the -three poor girls! A most prodigious relief to have the -third settled.”</p> - -<p>Then Pamela’s clear compassionate undertone.</p> - -<p>“I trust the young lady is happy in her choice, so -young as she looks.”</p> - -<p>The milliner’s eye wandered to the Bride-elect and -met her darkling gaze.</p> - -<p>“Why, that goes without saying,” exclaimed my -Lady tartly, “since I made the match, Miss Pounce. -Sir Jasper Standish is one of my Lord’s oldest friends.”</p> - -<p>“Sir Jasper Standish! Good God!” Pamela -started and wheeled round. She echoed the words in -accents which left no doubt as to the consternation -evoked by the name.</p> - -<p>Her face was reflected in the glass in front of her, and -Selina had a vision of its blasted expression of horror -and disapproval.</p> - -<p>The next moment Miss Pounce had resumed her usual -bland self-control, and was bending over the French hat, -feigning to be absorbed in twitching its knotted ribbons -into place.</p> - -<p>“Upon my word, Miss Pounce,” exclaimed Kitty, in -high surprise and anger. “And what have you got -against Sir Jasper Standish, may I ask, that you should -couple his name with such impiety?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, nothing, my Lady, nothing!”</p> - -<p>Pamela’s hands trembled as she twitched the faint -pink ribbons. “Nothing but a bit of a business trouble -between my father and Sir Jasper, our place being all -but next door to Standish Hall—I crave your Ladyship’s -pardon, I’m sure, for letting my feelings go away with -me,—but Sir Jasper was hard on father over a mortgage.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! a mortgage! Pish, child!” Kitty was immensely -relieved, though she could not conceal that she -considered it a great liberty in a milliner thus to obtrude -her family affairs upon the notice of distinguished clients. -She had not so very high an opinion of Jasper herself,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span> -and Pamela was a prodigious handsome girl! She had -been actually trembling over what might have come out!</p> - -<p>My Lady’s manner for the rest of the <i>séance</i> comically -varied between a dignified displeasure and the overwhelming -fascination exercised by the milliner’s supreme -talent.</p> - -<p>Lady Selina submitted to all the trying-on and listened -to the prolonged discussions with the same demeanour -of angry martyrdom which she had brought into the -shop.</p> - -<p>“You’ve been insufferable, my dear!” cried Kitty, -patience giving way at length, as the sleek royal horses -started on their homeward way.</p> - -<p>Selina turned her long, brilliant eyes upon her companion -without speaking. There was a pert question -and an underlying significance in them, which further -exasperated the chaperone.</p> - -<p>“’Pon honour!” exploded Kitty, “I marvel what’s -to do with you. You, with everything the world can -give you, and three as sweet hats chosen as ever I’ve -seen in my whole life! Such a picture as you’ll look, -a Bride, with your mother’s lace and all! and by the airs -of you, you might have been trying on sackcloth to go -to the stake.”</p> - -<p>“You must remember, my Lady Kilcroney, that I am -in mourning.”</p> - -<p>“Psha!”</p> - -<p>“And Sir Jasper a widower himself.”</p> - -<p>“And what of that, child?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, nothing,” said Selina. “Do you think it’s going -to rain?”</p> - -<p>Kitty looked at her long and earnestly. Was there -ever such a little shut-up countenance, such obstinate -close lips and such naughty secret eyes?</p> - -<p>“I wish to Heaven,” she said, at last, “that you’d -say what you’ve got in your heart, child.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I was just thinking about Miss Pamela Pounce!”</p> - -<p>“And what of her?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span>My Lady still uneasily remained cross.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I only thought she looked honest!” said the -girl. And not one other word to the purpose could my -Lady Kilcroney extract from her.</p> - -<p>They drove into Windsor in a strained silence and -separated to their divers duties in no very cordial -mood.</p> - -<p>Kind-hearted people in positions of authority are apt -to fall into the danger of doing good to their neighbours -in spite of themselves. They see so clearly the value of -the benefits they mean to confer, that fate having given -them the power to enforce their acceptance, they do not -hesitate to wield it. With the best intentions in the -world they become tyrants. Kitty had a real desire to -be of use to the orphan, and she was quite sure that the -plans she had laid for her were entirely for her comfort -and well-being. In any case matters had gone too far -for Selina, even to dream of such a catastrophe as a withdrawal -of her word.</p> - -<p>The Maid-of-Honour had accepted Sir Jasper of her -own free will. If she had secretly repented, if she chose -to sulk and make a martyr of herself, Kitty knew better -than to encourage her by seeming to notice it. And my -Lady told herself that the moods of such a chit were of -no account. She was too fresh out of the schoolroom -to stand so much promotion all together—Maid-of-Honour, -Bride-elect, the pet of royalty, all in a couple of -months—a little spoilt cat, and if she scratched Jasper -’twould but do him a vast of good.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, my lady Kilcroney felt slightly uncomfortable -until she next beheld the engaged couple together. -Then, indeed—it was the next evening after -their shopping drive to London, in my Lady’s own rooms—Selina -appeared to have completely forgotten her -gloomy fit. The child was in outrageous spirits, with -quite scarlet cheeks, taunting and mocking her ardent -lover, till he was beside himself.</p> - -<p>Kitty forbore rebuke. In her relief she was full of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span> -indulgence towards behaviour which, at another time, -she would have severely reprobated.</p> - -<p>“My dear love,” she wrote to her husband that night. -She was still in attendance at Windsor and Denis, very -much injured, was alone at Hertford Street. “Everything -is going as well as possible. Do not forget to call -on Mr. Gunter’s about the wedding cake and on Mr. -Bartolozzi about the tickets of invitation.”</p> - -<p>Could she have known how Lady Selina had employed -the afternoon of that very day, the poor Lady-in-Waiting -would have issued very different instructions.</p> - -<p>For Selina had obtained leave from her “Royal” to -go to town about her trousseau. The Princess Augusta, -all blandness and good nature, offered every facility, even -to her own carriage.</p> - -<p>How grateful was Lady Selina! But “Oh, no, Ma’am,” -she pleaded, “it makes me feel so horrid shy! There -we were yesterday, my Lady Kilcroney and I, in one of -the Queen’s barouches and every one turning round and -staring at us, and oh! so disappointed, Ma’am, not to -see the Royal faces. My mother is sending her own -maid for me, and we’ll take a chaise and Sister Verney -will meet me in the town.”</p> - -<p>Princess Augusta looked very kindly at the child. -She liked her modest disclaimer and the little flattery it -wrapped about, and it all sounded very proper and becoming. -How could she guess that Selina was lying -like a little devil, that the audacious creature would -positively set out from the consecrated precincts of -Queen’s Lodge alone, take the common coach to town -and proceed on foot to Bond Street; in a kind of disguise -indeed, a plain bonnet, borrowed off a Royal housemaid, -which had a brown gauze veil to drop over her face, so -that she might have passed her own mother in the street -and not been known!</p> - -<p>The cunning girl watched her opportunity and slipped -into Miss Pounce’s showroom at a slack moment. As<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span> -she flung back her veil Pamela’s colour changed; she -saw who it was.</p> - -<p>Selina walked quite close up to her and the two stood -a moment staring at each other. The milliner was too -acute not to feel the moment big with importance, and -too shrewd not to guess at the cause.</p> - -<p>“What did you mean,” said Selina then, “by saying -yesterday like that: ‘Sir Jasper! good God!’?”</p> - -<p>Pamela was not often taken-to, but she felt herself in -a most disagreeable fix.</p> - -<p>“La!” she faltered. “I could have bitten my tongue -out. I can only ask your pardon.”</p> - -<p>“I want you to answer my question. What did you -mean?”</p> - -<p>Pamela, who had been growing pale, grew paler.</p> - -<p>“Father had trouble with him over a mortgage.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, tush with your mortgage! That’s only a bit of -trumpery. It wasn’t the mortgage. You know something -of Sir Jasper.”</p> - -<p>The milliner hesitated: then she tossed her head.</p> - -<p>“And if I do, my Lady? There! There ain’t anything -for you to suspect me about, I do assure you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t suspect you!” cried Selina wildly. “I -see you hate him! I hate him myself! I haven’t anyone -to help me. What do you know of him?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing that would count as against a gentleman’s -honour,” said Pamela bitterly, recalling, with an inward -shudder, the vile trick that had been played upon her, -and the narrowness of her escape.</p> - -<p>Selina caught the working-woman’s two capable -hands.</p> - -<p>“I won’t get you into a scandal! I know you’ve -got your bread to earn. I’ll never mention your name -or let anyone guess! I promise! I promise! Look -here, I’ll put it differently: if you were me, would you -marry Sir Jasper Standish?”</p> - -<p>Pamela drew a long breath and the truth leaped.</p> - -<p>“I’d see myself dead rather!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span>The absurdity of the phrase did not detract from its -effectiveness.</p> - -<p>“Ah!” cried Selina. “Thank you! That’s all I -wanted to know.”</p> - -<p>She wrung the hands she had caught, whisked her veil -over her flushed countenance and turned to leave. On -the threshold of the shop she paused and flung back a -quick reassurance.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be afraid. I’ll never betray you!” which -Miss Polly Popple, overhearing, promptly carried to the -awestruck ears of Miss Clara Smithson.</p> - -<p>“There’s a low-class girl just been in the showroom -blackmailing Miss Pounce and gone off Heaving knows -with how much hushmoney! ‘I won’t betray you,’ -says she. And Miss Pounce looking after her, that -distraught; you’d think she’d seen a ghost.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! my dear,” said Miss Smithson. “Retribution -is gathering over that abandoned creature’s head.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VII</h2> - -<p class="ph1"><span class="smcap">In which is Manifest the Hand of the Sainted Julia.</span></p> -</div> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Oh</span>, my Lady Kilcroney, I haven’t a moment! The -most dreadful thing has happened!”</p> - -<p>Selina Vereker stood before the astonished Kitty. She -was robed for Court ceremonial and looked a very splendid -young woman in brocaded whites and silver laces. Her -hair was full dressed and spread mightily in wings and -curls. In her hand she held a posy of pink roses. But -against all this elegance, the small countenance looked -troubled; it was, indeed, contorted like that of a child -about to cry.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t a moment,” she repeated. “The Princess -Augusta expects me to attend her to the Duchess of -Hampshire’s ball, and even now she will be waiting for -me. But oh, my Lady, oh, my Lady, I thought I must -run in to tell you—Sir Jasper has broken with me!”</p> - -<p>“Never say so, child! And the marriage for next -Monday as ever was!”</p> - -<p>My Lady Kilcroney was in the long, narrow parlour -which formed part of her set of rooms in St. James’s -Palace. She, too, was in full fig; a marvel of glistening -white, with the fashionable purple trimmings that proclaimed -attachment to Royalty. The Bellairs diamonds -shone on her throat and bodice, and diamonds shot from -every angle of her piled and flying curls. At the Maid-of-Honour’s -words she shook and sparkled and quivered -in all her finery, looking like some magic tropical bird -spreading out wings for battle.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span>“The Princess Augusta is waiting for me!” cried -Selina, and sobbed.</p> - -<p>“Let her wait,” quoth Kitty fiercely. She had -enough familiarity with the Royals now to appreciate -the fact that, after all, they were but human beings.</p> - -<p>“What has happened? Sit there and tell me this -moment. Sir Jasper break off his engagement! Some -fantastick of jealousy, sure. The man’s mad! Why, -’tis but this morning you showed me that wonderful knot -of brilliants he gave you, child, on your complaining you -had no fancy for a dead woman’s jewels.”</p> - -<p>Selina let herself fall into the chair indicated, and hid -her face in her hands.</p> - -<p>“Oh, the disgrace!” she moaned.</p> - -<p>“It shall not be,” stormed her patroness. “You’ve -dropped your roses, child.”</p> - -<p>“What, the roses? How—did I still hold them? -Oh, my Lady, the roses, ’tis they undid me!”</p> - -<p>“Your roses undid you? Talk plain, in the name of -common sense.”</p> - -<p>“The roses undid me, Madam,” said Lady Selina, -lifting up her head to grind her teeth at Kitty, as that -lady said afterwards, for all the world like her little Denis -at ten months old with the double ones coming. “How -should I know that when the beautiful pink roses arrived -they were not from Sir Jasper? and oh, my Lady, he -came storming into my parlour, demanding to see me, -and I scarce out of the hands of Monsieur Achille and -going in to him in my wrapper, I do assure you, not -knowing what prodigious important thing he had to say -to me, and he, my Lady Kilcroney, scarce able to speak -with the fierce rage. ‘The roses,’ he says, ‘where are the -roses you was to wear to-night?’ And there they were, -unpacked at his elbow before I had had time as much as -to take them in my hand. As I’m a living woman, as I -hope to be saved, my Lady, I, all innocence! ‘The -roses?’ says I, and he falls upon them, and, oh, to think -of it, in the very middle rose, hidden like a snake in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span> -grass, was a billet. A billet, my Lady Kilcroney, I -scarce know how to tell you—from——”</p> - -<p>“Another gentleman?” screamed Kitty, jumping to -the horrid truth.</p> - -<p>“Some stranger.”</p> - -<p>“And indeed I hope so, Miss. And what was wrote -in it, pray?”</p> - -<p>Selina dropped long white eyelids over those brilliant -curious eyes of hers which never seemed to corroborate -her lips, and, drawing an immense quivering sigh, the -corners of the same pretty lips going down over a sob: -“Oh, my Lady, the monstrous audacity of it,” she cried. -“The creature wrote—God knows who he can be—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>‘<i>If you wear these roses to-night, Beauteous Selina, -your adorer will know that; whatever happens, he may -still hope.</i>’”</p> -</div> - -<p>“’Pon my word,” said Kitty.</p> - -<p>“It seems Sir Jasper had had an anonymous letter——”</p> - -<p>“Ha,” interrupted the Queen’s Lady-in-Waiting. -“Now lift up your head, my love. ’Tis all a vile -plot. An anonymous letter, say you? Why, now all -is plain. ’Tis some base, envious creature—Heaven -knows who!” said Kitty. “Some old flame, some -wretch who wants to break the marriage for abominable -designs of her own. Psha! Was there ever a grosser -scheme? ’Twould not take in a mouse!”</p> - -<p>“Sir Jasper will not listen to a word of reason,” complained -the bride-elect, now unveiling the fury of her eyes. -“He declares that there was guilt on my face; that he -had long had suspicions of me. He vows I have been -cold to him, dearest Lady Kilcroney, and that matters -must have gone very far between me and my lover—oh, is -it not monstrous of him?—before anyone would have -dared address me in such familiar words.”</p> - -<p>“You need not repeat his raving to me,” cried my -Lady Kilcroney decidedly. “Dry your eyes now, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span> -hasten to your duty. Sir Jasper in his present mood may -very well not come to the ball, but he shall render an -account of his folly in this very room to-morrow morning, -and if the marriage does not take place from my house -next Monday as arranged, I am a Dutchwoman, as complete -a Dutchwoman as Mrs. Schwellenberg. I can say -no more. And I trust,” said Kitty, soliloquising as the -door slammed on the Maid-of-Honour’s exit, “and I trust -you will pay Sir Jasper back for this evening’s work in -good ringing coin, child, once you’re Lady Selina Standish. -As I have no doubt you will, my love—cold-hearted, -capricious?—aye, he’s not so far out there—and fiery -tempered to boot! It will give me a vast of pleasure to -see such a buck as he proper punished and tamed!”</p> - -<p>She herself began the process with considerable conscientiousness -next morning in that interview which Sir -Jasper was ready enough to grant. My Lady was tired; -for to be in attendance on Royalty was to make of a ball -more of a fatigue than a diversion. She was anxious, too; -for the Queen had heard that it was Lady Selina’s visit -to Lady Kilcroney which had resulted in the Princess -Augusta actually being kept waiting; and had shown -displeasure at so extraordinary a breach of etiquette.</p> - -<p>Kitty had no explanation to offer. She would have -died rather than hint at the threatening scandal. So -considerable peevishness had accumulated to fall upon -the devoted head of Sir Jasper.</p> - -<p>But at first that individual was beyond feeling anything -save his own anguish. He roared like a wounded bull; -hit his brow till the powder flew; thumped his chest till -his vocal chords reverberated; paced the room, declaiming -in one breath that he was infamously betrayed, -and in the next that ’twas a just retribution for perjury -to the best of wives. He swore that his heart was broken; -never had he loved, never could he love woman as he -loved the false, intriguing Selina. Then he declared that -the organ in question had never been mended, but lay -in fragments under the tombstone sacred to Julia.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span>It was only when his passion had expended itself in -exhaustion that my Lady was able to make herself heard. -Then she dissected the value of the evidence upon which -he proposed to take so outrageous a step. She exposed -the folly of his jealousy, she mocked the absurdity of -the figure he cut.</p> - -<p>“You have now,” she said, “lost the finest young -lady in the kingdom. You were about to contract a -marriage altogether beyond what a man of your position -and birth could hope for. You a middle-aged widower, -of no particular title—what’s a baronet?—of no such -remarkable fortune, with certainly no good looks to -commend you—you were about to espouse the loveliest -little creature in all the world, the Queen’s favourite, -scarce eighteen—a beauty, sir, of the first family! And -on some kind of monstrous whimsy, arising from your -own bad past—oh, of that I am quite certain, Sir Jasper—you -have cast away this flower, and you have cast away -with it your good name, your good fame, your own claim -to be a gentleman! Never will that cake be eaten for -your wedding with Lady Selina Vereker, I can promise -you that! Oh, she’s out of conceit with you, poor child! -‘Only one thing I beg of you!’ she says to me. ‘Do -not ask me to look at him again, for I never, never can!’ -‘Then you shall not,’ says I. I uphold her, sir, in her -determination. ‘You’ve come out of this business with -flying colours, my love,’ I says, ‘and the Queen shall -hear the whole story.’ Fie, Sir Jasper, how you bellow! -I have one last word to speak to you, sir, aye, indeed, -the very last you shall ever hear from these lips, and that is -that I scarce think there’s a gentleman of your friends, -when it gets about the clubs, who would deem it worth -his honour to cross swords with such as you.”</p> - -<p>She made a great flounce of silk skirts as if to withdraw, -but he was down on his knees clutching at them; -to do him justice, less affected by her threats and the -picture she had drawn of his awful position than by the -realisation that he had lost his bride. Never had Lady<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span> -Selina appeared to his eyes in a light so entrancing; -never did he so clearly perceive the worthlessness of his -existence without her, as in this moment, when he believed -he had lost her. His distress was so genuine, his -supplications were so heartrending, that Kitty Kilcroney -could not but let herself be mollified. She exacted every -possible pledge of future good conduct, she obtained the -completest retractation, the most abject and repeated -apologies before sending for Selina.</p> - -<p>When this young lady appeared Sir Jasper was put to -another half-hour of torture ere he was re-admitted to -favour; and even then the bride remained cold and -unresponsive, and looked with a hard glitter in her eyes -from one to the other, as if she had by no means forgiven -her betrothed, and was scarce grateful to my Lady -Kilcroney for her share in the reconciliation.</p> - -<p>She had that moment, she informed him, sent the -parcel containing Sir Jasper’s presents, including the -betrothal ring, by a trusted hand to his house; she vowed -she considered matters vastly well as they stood; both -would yet repent a return to the old terms.</p> - -<p>Sir Jasper did not kneel to Selina. He behaved, Kitty -thought, with a better dignity than she could have -expected and also more intelligence. He promised -perfect confidence in the future and a rope of pearls; -the most tender forbearance in all difficulties and emerald -earrings; the unswerving devotion of a manly heart and -six Catalonian horses to the finest coach woman ever -drove in. He furthermore volunteered to double his -wife’s pin-money, and altogether, as Lady Kilcroney -informed her Denis afterwards, made a more graceful -leg out of the business than could have been -imagined from the gross fashion in which he had cantered -in.</p> - -<p>Lady Selina at length allowed an inert hand to lie in his -clasp, and even permitted him to touch an averted cheek -in token of her pardon; and it was an extremely chastened -buck that wended his way out of St. James’s Palace in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span> -the direction of Bond Street, and it was a tremendous -sigh of relief that my Lady Kilcroney heaved.</p> - -<p>“Now child,” quoth she, “as Mr. Shakespeare hath it, -‘All’s well that ends well.’ But do not make the mistake -of keeping up your frigid airs too long. The real way to -treat the wretches is to grant a little from time to time, and -demand a great deal.”</p> - -<p>“I’m much obliged to you, I’m sure, ma’am, for your -kind interest,” said Lady Selina, and dropped her white -eyelids over her audacious cold eyes.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“<i>There has been another elopement</i>,” wrote Miss -Burney, the Queen’s reader, to her sister, “<i>and you -would never believe, my dearest Susan, who and in what -circumstances. Lady Selina Vereker was, you know, to -wed Sir Joseph Standish, that handsome widower (scarce -indeed a year widowed of his poor Julia; men are strange -things! I met her once, she was a very elegant woman). -Lady Selina was, as I say, dear Susan, to wed Sir Jasper -this actual next Monday, and my Lady Kilcroney who, -as you know, hath the kind of good nature that is for ever -interfering in other people’s affairs, was to give the -breakfast at her own mansion in Hertford Street. ’Twas -said she made the match. ’Tis quite certain she recommended -the young lady at Court. She must be vastly -sorry on both these accounts now. Princess Augusta -was to go to the wedding (the bride being her own Maid-of-Honour); -and altogether it is an odd, unpleasant business, -as you will hear. Last night, then, Lady Selina attended -the Royals to the Opera House. ’Twas to be her last duty -of the kind, and she was ablaze, my dear, they tell me, with -Sir Jasper’s jewels. The poor man was infatuated. -I cannot but pity him. She stood behind the Princess -Augusta in the box as usual, and no one knows the exact -moment of her disappearance. ’Tis positive she was -present at the beginning of the third act. Then all -attention was turned to the stage, and at the end of it she -was nowhere to be found! Conceive it, my dearest Susan,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span> -to choose such a manner and such company, for such a -proceeding! To me it is beyond imagination; but, from -the letter she left behind her, there can be, alas! no mistake. -The young gentleman for whom she has shown her preference -in so singular a fashion, is, it seems, a person of no -note at all; a mere officer of the Marines, by name Simpson, -with scarce any fortune beside his pay. The whole -affair leaves one in a state of amaze, and I verily believe -the world is going mad.</i>”</p> -</div> - -<p>On the morning following the fatal evening just described, -my Lady Kilcroney was awakened from very -agreeable slumbers by the urgency of Miss Lydia Pounce, -who, placing a letter on the bed, begged in a tone so -important that her ladyship should wake up and read it -at once, that Kitty, omitting to scold, forthwith proceeded -to obey.</p> - -<p>“Lady Selina’s woman also brought a large case, my -Lady. I’ve left it in the ante-chamber.”</p> - -<p>Kitty was in Hertford Street, making ready in sweet -security for the wedding festivities; yet not so secure -but that her heart misgave her from the first moment -of the matutinal summons; it hardly needed the mention -of Lady Selina’s name to confirm her instant suspicions. -Yet she was ill-prepared, as she herself averred to all and -sundry later, for such a revelation of mixed baseness, -ingratitude and idiocy.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“<i>You have taken so kind an interest in my affairs, -my dear Lady Kilcroney</i>,” wrote the Maid-of-Honour, -“<i>that I wish you to be the first to hear that by the time this -reaches you I shall have become the wife of Lieutenant -Simpson of the Royal Marines. ’Tis no sort of match -for me, I am well aware, but I prefer him so infinitely to -Sir Jasper Standish that, seeing no other way out of it, -I have yielded to his solicitations. You may perhaps -remember that when we were with Their Majesties at -Brighton last month, there was a young man who used to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span> -stand on the Parade and stare as we went by. That was -Mr. Simpson. From the moment I had accepted Sir -Jasper—and indeed, it was scarce fair to put such pressure -on me, and me so young—I knew I had made a great -mistake. And oh, Heaven knows, how I tried to induce -him to break it off! When I had succeeded at last—for -’twas I who wrote the anonymous letter about the roses, -and ’twas I placed the billet-doux inside the rose (I still -think ’twas a very ingenious trick), if it had not been for -you all would have gone well. No one would have blamed -me, as you told Sir Jasper yourself, but you would interfere, -my Lady, and you brought it on again. And now, -if you please, will you explain matters to Sir Jasper? -I am sending the jewels to you that you may give them -back. And oh, I am so glad to be free of him, and of -them, and of Court I can’t tell you! Oh, pray do not try -your hand at match-making again, my Lady, for indeed -you have no talent for it.</i></p> - -<p class="right"><span class="indentright">“<i>Your obedient servant,</i></span><br> - -“<i>Selina Soon-to-be-Simpson</i>.</p> - -<p>“<i>I am sorry to treat my fat, good-natured Royal so. -She was a kind piece. But ’tis a vile life.</i>”</p> -</div> - -<p>“And oh, oh, ’tis she is a vile piece! Simpson! Let -her be Simpson to the end and die an old woman!”</p> - -<p>Kitty was more outraged, more incensed, more profoundly -disturbed than she had ever known herself. -Why, indeed, had she meddled with match-making, and -who would be looked on coldly over such scandal at -Court, but she? all innocence, kind heart and good -nature! She had half a mind to send in her resignation -and have done with it.</p> - -<p>As for Sir Jasper, he was well served, for an odious, -bullying, stupid fellow, who couldn’t make himself agreeable -when he had the chance of his life! <i>She</i> put herself -out any more for him? <i>She</i> expose herself to the unpleasantness -of breaking the news to him? Not Kitty, -not my Lady Kilcroney.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span>The little woman made up her mind in a minute. She -would go out of town. It was fine April weather. Bath -would be at its best. She preferred it out of the season.</p> - -<p>She would pass on the jilt’s letter to Sir Jasper. Lydia -should call a hackney coach and go round with it and -the jewels at once.</p> - -<p>“And I shall add a line,” thought Kitty, “that will -prevent him from coming to seek sympathy from me!”</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“<i>When you have perused the letter of Lady Selina, -by this time Simpson, dear Sir Jasper</i>,” she wrote, -“<i>perhaps you will feel as I do, that what has -plucked you apart has not been either your indelicate -behaviour or the young lady’s capriciousness, but the -hand of your sainted Julia</i>.”</p> -</div> - -<p>It was fortunate that there was no one in the room to -hear the awful words that escaped Sir Jasper’s lips when -he came to this. What fell from them was the blasphemy: -“Damn Julia!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VIII</h2> - -<p class="ph1"><span class="smcap">In which a Wonderful Bit of Luck Comes out of<br> -Miss Pounce’s Bandbox for Somebody Else</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Miss Pamela Pounce</span>, having inadvertently marred a -most desirable alliance and incidentally assisted a mad -elopement, told herself that it was a sad, tiresome world -in which love brought trouble to high and low, and that -the best thing a woman of intelligence could do, was to -put such stuff out of her head and be grateful that she -could work.</p> - -<p>“Dear, to be sure,” Pamela wondered, “how did people -get along at all who hadn’t some honest occupation to -keep their silly minds off themselves?”</p> - -<p>’Twas only to be expected that she should have such -fretful faces to suit with heads and hats; disappointed -mothers coming to complain that Miss’s toque was the -wrong shade of blue, passionate damsels vowing that -the very sight of a pink rosette made them sick.</p> - -<p>Pamela could read “as if it was wrote in print,” as -she said herself, the fluctuations of many an <i>amourette</i>, -many a well-laid matrimonial scheme. Where her art -might help she was ready with the most obliging disinterestedness; -when failure had followed on her best -efforts she took the despite of her disappointed clients -with the utmost philosophy.</p> - -<p>It was well that she was philosophic, for her own poor -misplaced romance was going singularly ill; so ill, indeed, -that it might be said to have dwindled down to nothing -at all.</p> - -<p>After his tender and respectful farewell to her on the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span> -night of Sir Jasper Standish’s Christmas ball, Pamela -had hardly seen anything more of her once too ardent -admirer. She told herself that ’twas all as it should be; -he now understood the kind of girl she was; and his -present attitude showed more true affection for her than -his former light-minded persecution.</p> - -<p>If she had been born his equal, or if she had not been, -humble as she was, a creature of principle, what could -have parted them? for if ever there had been love——</p> - -<p>Pamela was very valiant, and kept her courage up -with such reflections. And she found considerable distraction -in her work, and quite a fund of consolation in -the increased success which it was bringing to her. But -when events enabled her to coax a bit of happiness to -someone else, through the witchery of her talents, it was -more real satisfaction to her than the tot of the weekly -accounts.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>“Hats for these young ladies, Madam? Yes, Madam.”</p> - -<p>“A hat for this young lady,” said Lady Amelia Vibart, -severely.</p> - -<p>She looked disapprovingly at Miss Pamela Pounce. -She disapproved on principle of anyone whom she considered -her inferior, and when a person belonging to the -working classes was presuming enough, not only to have -good looks, but to make the most of them, Lady Amelia -considered it a direct attack on the prerogatives of those -destined by Providence to hold a higher station. Only -that she had been recommended to Madame Mirabel’s -shop as the one place positively, in the whole town, where -any self-respecting woman of fashion could get herself -a hat to be called a mode, she would have walked out of -the showroom at the mere sight of this creature, so tall -and self-possessed, so white and ruddy, clothed in garments -that fitted an indecently fine figure to positively -scandalous nicety, a creature who moved as if <i>she</i> were -the condescending party, and carried taper hands each<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span> -side of her waist-ribbon, not exactly akimbo, but with -an air—yes, in very truth, an air of independence.</p> - -<p>Miss Pounce looked at her visitors reflectively; a high-nosed, -haughty, short, stout lady, flanked on either side -by two tall daughters, the one beautiful, astoundingly so, -a perfect miracle of loveliness; and the other—plain. No -doubt about that; pleasant, bright-eyed, witty-looking, -but plain.</p> - -<p>“A hat for Miss?” said the milliner, her glance resting -upon the less favoured but unmistakably the elder damsel.</p> - -<p>The high-nosed lady tossed her head.</p> - -<p>“Certainly not,” she said with a glare. Here she -pushed the beauty forward, “For this young lady.”</p> - -<p>She looked round for a chair, let herself subside on a -velvet stool, obsequiously advanced by Polly Popple, -and began to talk very volubly and pompously.</p> - -<p>“I have been told that you have very good taste. -What can you suggest for my daughter? Perhaps I -had better tell you I am Lady Amelia Vibart. The -Duchess of Queensberry has recommended you. I am -sure that I shall find that you deserve her kind recommendation. -I trust that you will. It is not my custom -to come to shops myself, I generally expect to be served -in my own house, but the Duchess advised me—this is -Miss Jane Vibart. I think you must have heard of Miss -Jane Vibart.”</p> - -<p>She paused, inflating her nostrils and fixing an ox-like -stare upon the young woman, who really seemed quite -independent.</p> - -<p>Pamela turned her attentive gaze upon Miss Jane -Vibart. It was perfectly true that she had heard of her, -for there was a great deal of talk in the particular distinguished -circle that patronised Madame Mirabel on the -subject of the beautiful Miss Vibart. Something superlative, -overwhelming, an absolute miracle, she was -proclaimed to be; but the head milliner preferred something -with a little more life and mind in it, herself. She -betrayed by no sign that she recognised the overwhelming<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span> -favour and opportunity that was here bestowed upon -her, but inclined her head sideways, after the most elegant -millinery convention, and said: “Indeed, Madam? -Certainly, my Lady,” as if these were any ordinary new -customers.</p> - -<p>Lady Amelia snorted, took an immense breath, and -burst into fresh volubility with, if possible, an increased -pompousness.</p> - -<p>“It is of high importance, you understand, that Miss -Jane Vibart should be suited in the finest taste, I must -request you to give your earnest attention to the matter. -Stand forward, Jane, have I not already told you to -stand forward? And you, sit down, Sarah. You’re -in everybody’s way. Now, young woman, what do you -suggest? I want something of distinction; girlish, -you understand, but absolutely elegant. Everyone will -be looking to see what Miss Jane Vibart is wearing. ’Tis -Miss Jane Vibart’s first appearance upon the Windsor -Walk. I think it will be very good business for you if -you suit her. It will bring you a great many orders. I -trust you will consider that, young woman, and represent -it to your employer.”</p> - -<p>“Excuse me, your Ladyship,” said Miss Pounce, when -Lady Amelia stopped for want of breath, “I am sure, -speaking for Madame Mirabel, that she will be duly conscious -of your Ladyship’s land patronage, which we -shall do our best to deserve—Miss Popple, bring me the -primrose set, if you please,” and as the assistant sped -away, Pamela looked out of the window and remarked -that it was a fine day. Now it was exactly according to -the best tradition of shop etiquette that the customer’s -attention should be respectfully distracted during an -enforced wait, by some polite conversation; and, indeed, -most of Miss Pounce’s ladies had a good deal to say and a -good deal to listen to, when fortune favoured them with -a quiet moment in Miss Pounce’s company, but Lady -Amelia gazed upon the milliner with an arrogance that -marked her repressive intention, and then turned her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span> -head away and told Sarah to give her seat to Jane or the -child would look a fright for the rout to-night.</p> - -<p>“Dear, to be sure,” thought Miss Pounce, “to see that -poor piece jump up, and her younger sister take her seat, -all as if it were the most natural thing in the world, if -<i>that</i> don’t tell a tale! I wish ’twas the plain one I had -the hatting of, I’d get some credit out of it. Why, if you -put a sun bonnet on the beauty there, she’d look out of it, -no more nor less than the same handsome doll—you’ve -dropped your <i>mouchoir</i>, Miss.”</p> - -<p>Pamela handed the elder Miss Vibart back her useful -linen handkerchief with a movement as deferential as -if it had been the finest gossamer and valenciennes; and -that young person took it with a pleasant smile, blew her -nose in it lustily, and thrust it into her reticule, no whit -ashamed of its sensible quality.</p> - -<p>“That’s the girl for my money,” thought the observant -shopwoman.</p> - -<p>What a world in miniature was this showroom of hers! -Pamela had already seen many a comedy, many a drama -played out in it. Here was a case of Cinderella on the -wrong sister. A shame it was to treat a nice young -lady so, because she happened to have a little pug nose -and a wide mouth.</p> - -<p>“La! Miss Popple, give me that. (One would think -you’d had to go to Paris for it.) And straight from Paris -it is, my Lady, and all the trouble in the world to get it -through, things being as they are over there—as straight,” -said Miss Pounce, turning up her fine eyes, “as any confection -in this establishment. The newest idea, Madam. -Hat, robe and trimmings, down to the parasol all -complete, all in harmony, as you perceive. The ve—ry -lat—est id—e—a,” said the milliner, dropping her -syllables one by one, spreading the flounces and frills -over a chair and poising the hat on her clenched hand. -“Ex—qui—site, that’s the word, isn’t it, Miss? O, it -will become either of your young ladies to perfection. -The embroidered lawn, very delicate, very girlish, Madam.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span> -Absolutely correct for a young lady that’s a <i>débutante</i>. -Not white, Oh, no, your Ladyship, cream. Pull up the -blinds over there, Miss Popple.—Cream, a shade deeper -than ivory, and the pale green ribbons, the blonde, your -Ladyship sees, just flung over the hat and fastened with -this bunch of primroses. Did your Ladyship ever behold -anything more fanciful and pretty? I would not put a -bit of ribbon or set another pin into that hat,” said Miss -Pounce, “not if you was to offer me a thousand pounds -to do it! Oh, Paris ma’m. Yes, ma’am. Hot from Paris -if one can use such a word for a thing so cool and April-like. -Any young girl,” said Miss Pounce, not without -a spice of malice, “would be noted in such attire.”</p> - -<p>“O Mamma,” said Jane. It was the first time she -had spoken. She was gazing at her reflection in the -mirror, crowned by the wonderful hat. Her voice was -awestruck, as if she were overwhelmed by the sight of -her own loveliness.</p> - -<p>Lady Amelia pursed her lips, and then with some tartness -bade her daughter turn round. As she obeyed, -Miss Pounce seized the vapoury gown and cunningly -held it up against the young lady’s figure. A kind of -maternal greed obviously struggled with prudence in -Lady Amelia’s heart. She gaped meltingly, then frowned, -put her finger to her lip.</p> - -<p>“Miss could try them all on,” insidiously suggested -Pamela Pounce.</p> - -<p>“O Mamma,” said Miss Jane Vibart, and:</p> - -<p>“O Mamma,” cried her sister. “Jenny looks a -perfect picture in that hat, and I’m sure the dress is the -most lovely thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. It would be a -sin and a shame not to get them for her.”</p> - -<p>But Lady Amelia was not so swiftly moved to decision. -The garment was tried on and the beautiful Jane was -turned and twisted in every direction; while her mother -hummed and ha-ed and criticised.</p> - -<p>“I’m not so sure I like the green waist-ribbon, no, -nor the primroses, neither, mere hedgerow flowers. A<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span> -nice artificial garden rose, now, and a good blue taffety -sash.”</p> - -<p>“O Mamma,” protested the plain Miss Vibart in tones -of anguish.</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t do it, your Ladyship,” said Pamela, with -a slightly heightened colour, deftly whisking the hat -from the fair head and motioning her underling to conduct -the patient back behind the screen.</p> - -<p>“It’s the primrose and the green—your Ladyship will -excuse me—that makes the real Parisian elegance of this -gown. If your Ladyship requires ordinary English taste, -there’s Madame Flouncer’s in Clarges Street, a very -respectable firm, very respectable indeed, as I’ve heard -tell, where your Ladyship would find herself better -suited.”</p> - -<p>“Upon my word, young woman!” spluttered Lady -Amelia.</p> - -<p>“Yes, you may toss your old head, and sniff and snort, -my Lady Amelia,” thought the shopwoman, remaining -herself quite imperturbable, save for that deepening -colour, “but you’ll not come it over me with your high -nose and your country taste, and you needn’t think it.”</p> - -<p>They gazed upon each other steadily for nearly a -minute, then the dowager’s glare wavered.</p> - -<p>“It’s an original effect of colour, I’ll say that,” she -said weakly, “and—does that parasol go with it?”</p> - -<p>Miss Pounce took up the minute article in question, -shook out the fringe, opened it, and held it gracefully at -divers angles.</p> - -<p>“An ivory handle, your Ladyship perceives, cream -<i>poult de soie</i> of the first quality, the sarcenet lining beautifully -gathered, isn’t it, Miss? a deeper shade of primrose, -so becoming to the complexion, and such a background -for the powder—really as never was.”</p> - -<p>“An ivory handle,” said Lady Amelia, pulling a long -upper lip, “and fringe and what not! Absurd extravagance -for a girl.”</p> - -<p>“It goes with the whole inspiration, my Lady. A cheap<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span> -parasol or a wrong colour would—Foh! would destroy -it all.”</p> - -<p>After which Lady Amelia fell to haggling. She demanded -a personal interview with Madame Mirabel. She -declared that the advantage to the firm of clothing the -beautiful Miss Jane Vibart, if not sufficient compensation -in itself, ought to make a considerable difference in the -charges made.</p> - -<p>Miss Pounce regretted that Madame Mirabel was not -visible. Madame Mirabel could not be troubled on these -matters. She who spoke was solely responsible for the -department. She regretted that she could not regard -the favour of clothing Miss Jane Vibart otherwise than -as a business transaction. What was the price? -Nothing! Twenty-five guineas—given away! Oh, no, -my Lady, she did not think she could use up a square -of her ladyship’s old Honiton instead of the blonde. No, -nor make it twenty guineas and throw in the parasol. -It was a tremendous contest. Lady Amelia haggled -with a zest and energy that spoke of long practice and -an actual enjoyment of the process. Miss Pounce’s -cheeks were flaming when the transaction was at last -concluded, and she had after all gracefully conceded a -reduction of five pounds.</p> - -<p>(“And let it be a lesson to you, my dear,” she said to -Miss Popple afterwards. “And when you see a customer -come in with that kind of an air about her, put it up to -her at once. What was the set marked at, Miss Popple, -dear? Eighteen? You don’t say? Well, let that be -a lesson to you.”)</p> - -<p>“And do you want nothing for Miss?” enquired the -astute milliner, turning with a kind smile to the plain -girl. “I’ve a positive sweet of a Tuscan straw with -cornflowers, and a blue muslin. It would suit Miss to a -charm. Very reasonable.”</p> - -<p>Lady Amelia, one stout foot poised for departure—she -had a high aristocratic action suited to her nose—paused.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span>“Cheap? did you say?” she questioned.</p> - -<p>“Miss Popple, the blue muslin and the assorted -<i>chapeau</i>.”</p> - -<p>Lady Amelia gazed through her eyeglass and Pamela -rejoiced to see that she hesitated. Colour and sparkle -had risen to the plain Miss Vibart’s cheeks, and the -flash of joy brought out all kinds of beauties; dimples, -and tiny smile waves, and an archness in the curve of -that too wide mouth over milk white teeth.</p> - -<p>“<i>Chapeau</i> and <i>robe</i>,” she said emphatically, “for you, -my Lady, since your Ladyship has already so generously -patronised us, and not to disappoint the young lady, -eight guineas. Pray Miss, let my Lady see you in the -hat.”</p> - -<p>Her hands lifted to her country straw, Sarah Vibart -paused, looked at her mother, and the light died out of -her eyes.</p> - -<p>“Jane, you will want another gown,” muttered Lady -Amelia. “And blue was always your colour.”</p> - -<p>“O Mamma,” said Jane, with a smile of joy that made -her for the moment quite exasperatingly lovely.</p> - -<p>It was that smile that settled her in Miss Pounce’s -opinion.</p> - -<p>“Of all the mean, unnatural girls! ’Tis a shame, I -call it, a shame!” thought she.</p> - -<p>If her business conscience would have allowed her, -she would have placed the Tuscan on the beauty’s head, -and contrived to give the curls a good tweak as she did -so. But as it was, she masked her feelings by handing -the garments to her underling, loftily commanding: “You -carry on with the order, Miss Popple. Regretting -Madam, I have an appointment,” and sweeping majestically -away.</p> - -<p>As she did so, she in her turn dropped a pocket handkerchief, -quite a dainty little article with an embroidered -P. and a delicate edge of lace, smelling too of the lavender -with which the Kentish mother kept her elegant town -daughter liberally supplied.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span>The plain Miss Vibart made a plunge and picked it -up.</p> - -<p>“Good God, Sarah!” cried Lady Amelia, the exclamation -jerked out of her by a proceeding so very -unbecoming.</p> - -<p>“Thank you, Miss,” said Pamela, looking into the -candid green eyes, that refused to acknowledge the -rising tears. “I hope some day I’ll have the dressing -of you, and ’twill be a pleasure and privilege.”</p> - -<p>“Jane,” cried her mother angrily, “don’t stand -staring, and if you poke like that I might as well throw -all the money into the sea. Try on the hat this minute, and -you may tell Madame Mirabel—you—you young woman—that -I consider it very impertinent of the person who -presides over the department to go away like this; a -vast bit of disrespect, and I’ve half a mind to cancel my -orders. Hold your tongue, Jane. I would, if it were -not that it might hurt the Duchess’s feelings.”</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>In spite of Lady Amelia’s censure, it was scarce a -fortnight afterwards when a very small page boy brought -a very large folded sheet to Madame Mirabel’s shop, -marked immediate, which he was enjoined to deliver -straight into the hands of Miss Pounce. This document -ordered with equal imperativeness and urgency, that -Madame Mirabel’s principal woman should instantly -proceed to 6a, Queen Street, bringing a selection of heads -suitable for Miss Jane Vibart’s wear that night at the -masked ball at Hampshire House. “<i>It is very important -that the principal woman should come HERSELF.</i>” This -was heavily underlined. “<i>Lady Amelia Vibart must insist -on her personal attendance.</i>”</p> - -<p>“Hoighty, Toighty,” said Miss Pounce, and stood -looking down at the page with one hand on her hip, -eyelids drooping, a quizzical smile, and a tilted chin.</p> - -<p>“And how’d it be if I can’t give up my Duchesses -and Marchionesses to whom I’ve been engaged for goodness -gracious knows how long? There, trot along, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span> -tell my Lady I’ll do my best, seeing she’s so pressing! -Yes, yes. I’ll come. And shut your mouth, little boy, -in the name of Heaven, or you’ll be picked up for a frog -and brought to the Royal Aquarium.”</p> - -<p>Number 6a, Queen Street was a small narrow house -wedged in between two larger residences; one of those -domiciles that seem made for the impecunious fashionable. -Miss Pounce serenely preceded Madame Mirabel’s -liveried porter who negotiated an alarming array of -bandboxes, not without some bumpings, up the narrow -stairs, in the wake of the country footman. On the -second floor landing she ordered the important chattels -to be deposited, and bidding the porter have a hackney -in half an hour, stood a monument of composure while -the country footman knocked at the panels of the door.</p> - -<p>There was a clamour within, voices, among which -Lady Amelia’s didactic tones could easily be distinguished, -objurgations, lamentations, sobs. The footman invited -Miss Pounce by a leer to share the joke, knocked louder, -and at an exasperated “Come in,” flung open the door. -As Pamela entered the long, dingy bedroom a silence fell.</p> - -<p>The beauty was sitting in an arm-chair by the empty -fire-place, her face buried in her hands, evidently in tears; -the elder sister was bending over her with a countenance -of concern, while in the background stood a frightened-looking -elderly maid, her finger to her lip.</p> - -<p>“Come in, come in!” repeated Lady Amelia, bursting -into speech. “Shut the door. I’m sorry to have -troubled you, I’m sure. No. I don’t want the bandboxes. -Miss Jane Vibart cannot possibly go out to-night. -She has most successfully contrived to make -such a spectacle of herself that I doubt if she will be able -to show again for the rest of the season.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mamma!” exclaimed the elder daughter in -reproachful accents. “’Tisn’t Jenny’s fault!”</p> - -<p>“You’ll not say it’s mine, I trust?” retorted a deeply -annoyed parent, and, as the beauty lifted her face, Pamela -saw that it was indeed disfigured almost out of recognition<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span> -by that distressing if not alarming complaint, the toothache. -The poor girl’s left cheek was swollen to comicality.</p> - -<p>Jane Vibart, with a loud boo-hoo, buried her head in -her handkerchief again, and Sally, with a championship -which Pamela thought the younger ill deserved, protested: -“But Mamma, Mr. Tugwell hurt her so dreadfully -last time, that poor Jenny was terrified——”</p> - -<p>“Foh! I’ve no patience with her,” stormed the lady. -“She’ll have to have it out now, and ’twill hurt her a -vast deal more. Provoking creature, and it is so important, -so particularly important that she should go -to-night. Well, Miss, if you lose your chance of the -match of the year, you’ve none but yourself to blame, -and let that be a comfort to you. Pray, young woman, -did you not hear me say I should not require your goods? -O! I could shed tears of vexation, and it all so neatly -planned! The Duchess herself would have seen that -you took the floor with Mr. W., and says she to me: -‘The child has but to unmask at supper, and I think we -may say ’tis as good as done.’ Mr. W., his uncle’s heir, -and such a personable, worthy young man, by all -accounts, and looking to be settled. Well, well! Meeking, -take Miss Jane to her apartment, and tell Mrs. -Martha to apply the leeches. ’Tis time for me to be -dressing.”</p> - -<p>Whether rendered irritable by pain, or overwhelmed -by disappointment at the probable loss of Mr. W., or -goaded by the thought of the leeches, certain it is that -the afflicted daughter broke out with a passion which -amazed Miss Pounce so much that she turned on the -threshold to stare, and perhaps even admire.</p> - -<p>The beauty declared that Mamma was a nasty unkind -thing, and that she herself wished she was dead.</p> - -<p>“Jane!” cried Lady Amelia, in a voice of thunder. -“Sarah, take your sister away.”</p> - -<p>Ere the sobbing girl, advancing in three totters and -a stop to gasp, could reach the door, Lady Amelia<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span> -bethought herself of a fitting punishment which spoke -volumes for the matron’s methods of education.</p> - -<p>“Your sister shall go in your place to-night. Yes, -Jane, not another word. I have quite made up my mind. -Sarah, get ready to accompany me.”</p> - -<p>Pamela slipped out of the room after the girls, and -was witness on the landing of a small fraternal scene -which confirmed her previous opinion of the lovely -Jane. This aggrieved maiden first nearly fell over the -bandboxes, and then was seized by such a convulsion -of rage and jealousy at sight of them, that, shaking -herself free of Sarah’s encircling arm, she slapped -and pinched her sister, and then, at Pamela’s horrified -interference, dashed up the staircase to her own -chamber.</p> - -<p>“’Pon my word,” thought the milliner, “Mr. W. may -have had the escape of his life! A doll lined with a vixen! -’Tis the most dismal combination. Don’t cry, Miss,” -she went on aloud, as Sarah sniffed into her useful pocket -handkerchief, “don’t cry, there’s a dear young lady! -Let me come in your room with you, and see what I’ve -got in these boxes. You shall look nice to-night, or my -name’s not Pamela Pounce.”</p> - -<p>Now Sarah’s chamber happened to be a narrow slit -at the back of her mother’s apartment, for of course -Beauty had to be well lodged, no matter how pokily plain -Miss Sarah might fare.</p> - -<p>Nipping a bunch of bandboxes dexterously in each -hand, Pamela bundled after the astonished Cinderella -into her dingy little cell.</p> - -<p>“As for the price, Miss, bless you,” she whispered -breathlessly, with her back against the door. “You’ll -pay me when you’re married.” Then she smacked her -lips as if the dish of her choice were spread before her. “I -don’t know when I’ve took to anyone as I’ve took to -you. La! We must have candles though, your window -giving on a shaft as I see, and being, so to speak, worse -than none. But I’d rather dress a lady by candlelight,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span> -any day in the year. And what was you thinking of -wearing, Miss?”</p> - -<p>“O dear, I’m sure I don’t know!” cried Sarah. “My -muslins are dreadful washed out, and Mamma said I -must do with her mauve Tabby made over, for she -couldn’t afford to dress two——”</p> - -<p>Here there came a knock at the door, and Meeking, -the drab elderly maid, entered, carrying a white -silk brocade gown, powdered over with little rosebuds.</p> - -<p>“My Lady says you’re to wear this, Miss Sally, and I’m -mortal glad,” added the woman, dropping her voice and -looking, as if for support, at the milliner, “that you -should come to your rights once in a while! Too bad -the way this pore young lady’s put upon, Miss. There! -I’ve said it now, and I’m glad of it. Her Ladyship’s -just given me notice. I wish I could dress you, Miss -Sally, I do indeed, but I’ve got to go back to your Mamma -this instant minute.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you put yourself out, Ma’am,” cried Miss -Pounce, sweetly. “I’ll help your young lady with all -the pleasure in life! I was just about to show her the -heads I brought on approval.”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said the Abigail darkly, as she withdrew, -“there’s heads enough in this house to-night, and that’s -the truth!”</p> - -<p>“I hardly like, though,” exclaimed Sarah, “to wear -poor Jenny’s clothes.”</p> - -<p>“Why, you’re a sweet creature!” The milliner shook -out the glistening folds. “’Twill suit you, Miss——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, my ugly face!”</p> - -<p>“Ugly! As far as that comes to, Miss Vibart, there’s -ugly beauties, and there’s charming—well, charming -uglinesses, since that’s your own word. I’d never call a -lady ugly who’d so fine a figure, and so bright an eye—and -if your mouth is a bit wide, Miss, sure your teeth are -a picture; and if your nose is a trifle snub, there’s something -so merry and arch in the way it cocks when you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span> -smile, that I for one would not have you different. I -vow I would not!”</p> - -<p>Pamela was in the act of passing the Beauty’s fine -gown over Cinderella’s shoulders, and as she twitched it -into place she proceeded with fresh energy.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter with you, Miss, is that you’ve -been so set aside that you’re afraid to smile and be merry. -Let yourself go to-night, and you’ll see——”</p> - -<p>“Why, ’twill be right enough,” said Sarah ruefully, -“so long as I’m masked—all the dancing ladies are to -be masked, you know. I’m not afraid but I can hold -my own then. ’Tis the thought that all the while people -are looking at me they’re saying ‘poor girl,’ and comparing -me with sister. However I may get on with my -partner at the rout to-night, the moment I take off my -mask——”</p> - -<p>“Now, don’t go for to say that, Miss! You haven’t -seen the head I’ve got in this bandbox. One would -think,” cried the milliner enthusiastically, “that your good -angel had inspired me, for I’ve got here the very mode -to match Miss Jane’s brocade and to suit you. Well, -there! there won’t be no gentleman at the ball to-night, -wishing you was your sister. I’ll take my oath o’ -that.”</p> - -<p>And indeed, when some twenty minutes later the -plain Miss Vibart contemplated her image in the glass, -she conceded that she might very well hold her own. By -a couple of twists of clever fingers, Pamela Pounce had -contrived to loosen and display her curls to an advantage -hitherto undreamt of. When a hairdresser was called -in, his services were not wasted on Sarah. And the -“head”; what an exquisite indescribable trifle, and -how becoming! The twist of silver tissue as light as the -most delicate cloud, the single hint of blue, and the one -full pink rose! It lent an ethereal aspect to the flying -curls of powdered hair; Sarah’s small round face took a -something elfin, and, as she smiled at herself, roguish, -that made the milliner clap her hands and vow that she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span> -was delicious, and that her own anticipations were far -exceeded.</p> - -<p>Sarah turned and hugged her unexpected friend before -obeying her mother’s call.</p> - -<p>“I’ll come round to Madame Mirabel’s in the morning -and tell you all about it. See if I don’t.”</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Miss Sarah Vibart looked so modest and inconspicuous -as she slipped into Madame Mirabel’s hat shop on the -thundery June morning after the Masked Rout at Hampshire -House, that Miss Popple deemed it not worth her -while to enquire what her pleasure might be.</p> - -<p>“Foh!” thought Polly. “Some poor country cousin -on the spy for fashion,” for no one can be so haughty as -the young person who caters for the high and mighty.</p> - -<p>What was her surprise to see the head milliner conclude -the affairs of a most important dowager in perfunctory -haste, with a peremptory, “Door, Miss Quigly,” -and advance with the most urgent courtesy to the customer -in the plain print gown, with the unmistakable -home-trimmed hat, and the not at all pretty face underneath -it!</p> - -<p>“Step with me into the dressing-room, Miss Vibart. -I’ve got your <i>matinée</i> ready to fit on,” said Pamela, with -a knowing wink.</p> - -<p>And when the two found themselves together in the -little screened off apartment with the big mirror, Miss -Pounce scanned her companion’s face with the most -searching anxiety. There was something in that face that -had not been there before, an emotion between trembling -joy and crucial doubt; a colour that fluctuated, a vague -and veiled glance. And a smile that wavered.</p> - -<p>“Well, Miss?” panted Pamela, as the girl, letting -herself fall into a chair, seemed to float away on a dream: -“well, Miss, how did you enjoy of yourself? Wasn’t -my head the prettiest there by a long way? I don’t -think the Duchess herself had such a bit of real art, and -I ought to know! I’m sure, if you only looked as you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span> -did upstairs in that little room when you took off your -mask——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you dear kind thing, I never took off my mask -at all.”</p> - -<p>“What, Miss?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I couldn’t!”</p> - -<p>“Of all the pities! There, I might as well have spared -my trouble, I see. There ain’t a mite of use in trying to -help those that won’t help themselves, that’s flat!”</p> - -<p>“Nay, pray, pray don’t be vexed with me! You’ve -been such a friend to me! You’re the only friend I have! -Oh, I must tell you! There’s no one in the world I can -tell.”</p> - -<p>There was such real distress in the girl’s whole air, and -at the same time, some pathetic hope that seemed to -cast a pale beam across her trouble like sunshine on a -gloomy day, that Pamela swallowed down her natural -irritation and began to feel moreover that her efforts -might prove to have been not so altogether wasted after -all. More than this, how could she fail to be touched -by the appeal: “You are my only friend”? Flattered, -too, considering—and Pamela was far too sensible not to -consider—the difference in their station.</p> - -<p>“Oh,” cried the plain Miss Vibart, as if the gentle look -the milliner cast on her had been a Moses wand and the -spring gushed forth under its touch. “Oh pity! Oh, -why am I not beautiful, like Jane? I never envied her -before—never, never—but oh, why did I go to the party -at all? If I hadn’t known him first, if he had not been -so wonderful kind and clever and charming and loving -to talk to me, and understanding me so—oh, oh, and so -handsome! Oh, I’d never have known what he was if -Jane had had him first!”</p> - -<p>“There, don’t cry, you poor thing! Why, now, you -said you’d tell me about it, Miss, and I’m sure, I think it -uncommon pleasant of you, Miss, and I’d never take -advantage—no! ’Twill be as sacred—as sacred—no -not if I was to be drawn and quartered! But there,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span> -Miss, why, how do you know ’tisn’t all going to end -lovely? How do you know the gentleman isn’t like me -and wouldn’t rather have you than the beauty, fifty -thousand times?”</p> - -<p>Here came such a lifting of swimming eyes, such a -timid smile that Pamela thought she, for one, never -wanted to see anything sweeter than the face of the plain -Miss Vibart.</p> - -<p>And after that the confidences came, broken, halting, -but explicit enough for such quick wits as those of -Madame Mirabel’s head woman. How Sarah had -followed her mother, with a higher heart than she had -ever carried in her bosom to any entertainment, into the -great, splendid ball-room of Hampshire House, safe under -her mask: and they had scarce been there a five minutes -when up comes the Duchess of Queensbury in a great fuss, -followed by a tall young gentleman, and she says to -Mamma, for the Duchess is Mamma’s cousin by marriage, -and has remembered the relationship since Jane came out, -for Jane, she says, is the most beautiful creature in the -world and “so she is,” cried the loyal sister, breaking off -her narrative with a trembling lip.</p> - -<p>“’Tis the young gentleman’s looks I want to hear -about,” Miss Pounce interpolated skilfully. “Mr. W—— -I suppose? Him your lady Mamma was alluding to.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. W. it was, Mr. Walsingham. And oh, he’s a -person of great consequence, for he’s the nephew and heir -of the old Marquis of Harborough, him that succeeded -his brother, you know, and none of them ever married. -And oh, dear, my dear friend—your name’s Pounce, -isn’t it? I’d rather call you by your Christian name -if you don’t mind. Pamela? Oh, I like that. Dear -Pamela, I thought when the Duchess introduced him -and he bowed and smiled I’d never seen anything so -agreeable, nor so well looking. With such straight and -honest eyes and so kind a smile. And the Duchess was -in such a fuss, as I told you, she wouldn’t listen to Mamma -who wanted to explain about Jane, and I think she’s a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span> -little deaf, too. ‘Here, Edward,’ she cries, ‘here’s Miss -Vibart, what I’ve told you of and you’d better engage -her at once, for once it gets about what face is behind -that mask, there’ll be twenty clamouring for her. Oh, -you’re a lucky dog,’ says she—that’s the way she speaks, -and I think it’s rather gross, but Mamma won’t have it, -because she’s a duchess—‘Oh, you’re a lucky dog,’ she -cries, ‘and there won’t be a buck in the room that won’t -want your blood when midnight comes and that face is -revealed.’”</p> - -<p>“Dear, to be sure,” said Pamela, with a sucking -breath. “And do you think Mr. W.—I can’t help it, -Miss, I shall always call him that: ’tis so mysterious like—didn’t -hear what your Mamma tried to tell the Duchess? -Did he take you for your sister straight off?”</p> - -<p>An overwhelming blush spread over the plain Miss -Vibart’s face.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Pamela Pounce,” she cried, “’twas very silly -and cowardly of me, but I didn’t want him to find out. -I thought for once I’d know, even on false pretences, -what it means to be admired and courted. And oh, my -dear creature, yes, I’ll be truthful. I liked him so much -from the very first that I couldn’t, I couldn’t make up my -mind to his going away and leaving me.”</p> - -<p>In the pause which ensued, the milliner discreetly -waited while last night’s heroine once again fell into a -retrospective muse. Suddenly the girl broke out:</p> - -<p>“’Twas the strangest thing! Our tastes met at every -point. ‘Never think, sir,’ cries I to him, ‘to find me -entertaining company, for I’m the veriest country mouse——’ -‘Country!’ cries he. ‘Madam, there’s no life -for anyone but in the country to my mind. This town -existence, what is it? How can anyone but an idiot -substitute the fresh air and the green fields and the fine -views and the wholesome activities, the pleasant neighbourly -intercourse, for this inane round of dissipations -in the atmosphere of smoke, the hideous confinement of -brick and mortar and the feverish intercourse with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span> -strangers between people who can have naught in common, -and as like as not can never meet again?’”</p> - -<p>“La,” cried Pamela, “how you remember it all, Miss! -And sure, to my mind, ’twas scarce an auspicious opening.”</p> - -<p>“Nay, but it was, for it set me off laughing. And, -cries I, an idiot and inane! ‘You’re vastly obliging, sir, -but pray remember that I, at least, am subject to authority.’ -‘And so am I, madam,’ cried he, ‘’tis by my -uncle’s orders that I am in the town, so you and I may -perhaps call ourselves the only sane people in a room full -of vapidity. And such being the case,’ he went on, -‘you will allow me to add most respectfully that we -scarce meet altogether as strangers, and that I trust our -first meeting may not be the last.’”</p> - -<p>The milliner gave a whistle.</p> - -<p>“Quick work,” quoth she, “a’most like putting on the -feathers before the straw is stitched together.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, nay indeed!” cried the other again, “we were -somehow so comfortably at home with each other from -the first! And after we had danced a minuet—it is not -vanity on my part to say that I can dance and that better -than dear Jane, though, to be sure, it scarce matters how -she steps for none will look but at her face—we got on -amazing in the figures, and afterwards better still in the -talk we had together. Never was there such harmony -of taste, I do assure you; I told him how vastly I preferred -the country gentlemen to the town fop, and he told -me the town young lady could never hold a candle to the -fresh country creature that would be up betimes in the -dairy, and still-room. And oh, a dairy is all my joy, -and as to a still-room why, I scarce know how the time -flies, once I’m in ours! Our housekeeper is very old, and -Mamma is very kind and lets me help her. And there’s -no butter half so good as mine in the county, and the dear -cows, I love the very sight of them. Aye and I can milk, -too. And there’s not a herb in the garden I don’t know -the use of. And——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span>“Why, Miss,” said the milliner, amused, “what a -mistress you’ll be of a country house of your own, one of -these days!”</p> - -<p>“Why, that’s what he said!”</p> - -<p>“Did he indeed?” Pamela laughed out loud.</p> - -<p>“Nay, but,” the girl’s face, which had wonderfully -brightened, fell; “You must remember he thought I was -the Beauty all the time! He has heard about Jane. -’Tis quite clear. He is in love with her without ever -having seen her, and that was why the more charming, -the more ardent, respectfully ardent, he was, the more -my heart sank. Though indeed I do think our minds -were in sympathy, and to be sure, sister scarce knows -rhubarb from angelica, or cream cheese from curds.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, if I’d been you,” said Pamela Pounce with fire, -“I’d have pulled my mask off, Miss, and faced him and -said, ‘By your tongue you’re a man of sense, show yourself -one by your eyes.’”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you may talk,” Sarah cast a desperate upward -glance at the kindling face: “you that’s so handsome! -Little you know what it is to feel plain. ’Tis as I have -told you, I couldn’t, aye—that’s the word!—face it. -And so I slipped from him, even as all the assembly was -summoned to the supper-room, and hid myself. And oh,” -cried Sarah, between laughing and crying, “when Mamma -found me at last, sitting with the maids among the cloaks, -she was very angry first. ‘And where have you been?’ -cries she. ‘The Duchess and Mr. W. have been looking -for you everywhere. Mr. Walsingham’s mad after you, -child,’ and oh,” here Sarah sobbed, “she was most angry -because she thought he had liked me too much. And -when I told her he took me for sister, ‘why,’ said she, -‘put on your mask this minute, Miss. And I forbid you -ever to let on that you took Jane’s place. He has told -the Duchess that you’re the most intelligent young -woman, that your mind and your principles are all he -could desire—believing you to be Jane of course. Things -could not be better! His intentions are most serious!’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span> -And now,” cried Sarah, drying her eyes desperately, -“Sister’s had her tooth out this morning, and the apothecary -says in a week there’ll be nothing to show for it. -And though there’s been a message from the Duchess to -say Mr. W. wished to call to-day, Mamma has wrote back -that Jane has taken a cold at the masked ball and must -keep her room for a few days. But oh, Pamela, when he -comes and looks upon her—why, you can guess how it -will be!”</p> - -<p>“’Tis a monstrous shame,” the partisan exclaimed. -“I wouldn’t put up with it, Miss. And all the time ’tis -yourself he’ll think he’s getting. You ought to up and -tell him straight and let him make his choice.”</p> - -<p>But Sarah, pulling on her shabby gloves and drawing -her hat over her red eyes, shook her head. “I couldn’t -do that,” said she. “Mamma says if I breathe a word -’twill be the basest treachery to sister. And she’ll keep -me out of the way,” she added under her breath.</p> - -<p>The girl then flung her arms round the milliner’s neck. -Sarah was indeed lacking in propriety.</p> - -<p>“I’ll send back your head. ’Tis as fresh as ever. And -thank you a million times. At least I’ve had a peep into -happiness.”</p> - -<p>It was quite ten days later when Pamela Pounce -received an urgent message from Miss Vibart to come -and see her after closing hours.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“<i>Mamma and Jane are going out and I shall be -quite alone. Do come, I have something so strange to -tell you.</i>”</p> -</div> - -<p>Miss Pounce did not need to be bidden twice to such an -appointment. Her warm heart had been considerably -preoccupied on the subject of the plain Miss Vibart’s -affairs.</p> - -<p>She was shown in, not to the fireless dark slit of a room -overlooking the shaft, but to quite a comfortable small -bedroom on the street. Sarah, in an elegant white<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span> -muslin wrapper, sprang up from her writing-table to -embrace her friend.</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, look at me!” she cried. “I ain’t ashamed -of my face to-day. Indeed I quite love it. Oh, I’ve -just been writing to all the dear old people at home, my -blessed old nurse and Mrs. Comfit—that’s our good housekeeper—to -tell them—to tell them my great news! Oh, -Pamela, I wanted to tell it by degrees and surprise you, -but I can’t. ’Twill out! It is me he wants.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. W.?”</p> - -<p>“My own dear, darling Edward Walsingham, who -else? Oh, was there ever such a lucky girl? Oh, -Pamela! Here, sit beside me. Let me hold your hand. -Let me hold your hand, your warm, dear hand that lifted -me up, when I was oh, in such a pit of despond.”</p> - -<p>The two sat together on the maiden’s bed, and Pamela -began to cry, as women will, over the tender emotions -of the moment.</p> - -<p>“I’m as glad, my dear,” she said, “as glad as if you’d -given me a hundred thousand pounds. Gladder! And, -how did it come to pass?” she drew her sucking breath -of delighted anticipation.</p> - -<p>“This morning, then—oh, when I think it was only this -morning!—sister being quite unswollen and looking -lovelier than ever, Mamma put her into the blue muslin—your -blue muslin, you remember it?—and made Meeking -do her hair in a new way with a black ribbon bow at the -back and little curls, like the Duchess of Devonshire, and -oh, sister did look lovely! And just as she was ready, up -comes Joe Footman to say the Duchess of Queensberry -and Mr. Walsingham was in the withdrawing-room. -And Mamma takes sister by the hand and ‘Come, child,’ -says she. ‘And if you poke when you come into the room -I’ll slap you,’ (Sister does poke sometimes you know.) -And off they go, without so much as a look at me. I’d -been helping to dress sister, you see, holding the hairpins -and that. And there was I in my old frumpy gown, and I -just looked at myself in the glass and I thought: ‘You<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span> -plain thing, how dare you be jealous of beauty, and your -own sister, too! And if you cry, you silly creature, -you’ll only make yourself plainer, so what’s the good of -that!’ And I wouldn’t cry, dear. I picked up sister’s -clothes and was putting them away, trying not to think. -Oh, trying so hard not to think—of him downstairs, -looking worship at Jane, when all at once up comes Joe -Footman again. ‘And you’re to come down, Miss, -you’re to come down this minute to the withdrawing-room. -Her Ladyship has sent for you,’ And oh, you’ll never -believe the dreadful thought that came into my head and -how near I was saying I would not obey Mamma, for to tell -you the truth, I thought she wanted to show off Jane with -my plainness. But then I thought, ‘Nay, daughters -must do as they’re bid,’ and I set my teeth and down I -went, just as I was. Oh, Pamela, such an untidy, ill-dressed -poor girl, with a sad pale face! And oh—I can -hardly believe it myself—the moment I came into the -room up he jumped—yes, he, Mr. W.—and I heard him cry -out quite joyful: ‘Ah, I knew I could not be mistaken. -Ah, ’tis she, ’tis she indeed!’ And then he took both my -hands in his and kissed them one after the other very -respectful. And says he, ‘Forgive me, Madam, forgive -me! Your mother will explain. It has been an absurd -misunderstanding. I found a treasure, and I thought I had -lost it. Oh, forgive me if I seem too precipitate!’ And -Jane got up and went to the window and began to tap on -the pane, and Mamma and the Duchess looked at each -other. And the Duchess said: ‘I congratulate you, -Amelia, this is the most crazy bit of good fortune that ever -befell a mother,’ And everything did seem rather crazy, -for there was Mamma at one minute looking as if she could -kill me and at the next clasping me and calling me her -favourite child. And oh,” went on the plain Miss Vibart, -“it is precipitate, but what does that matter, when we’re -both so happy? And oh, it seems I must tell you, and -’tis not vanity! that the moment he saw Jane he stared -and looked so mortal disappointed and seemed so confused,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span> -falling back two steps indeed, instead of coming forward, -that the Duchess cried: ‘What’s the matter with the -fellow? Ain’t she pretty enough?’ And he said: -‘This is never the young lady to whom you introduced -me at Hampshire House, ma’am. There is some cruel -mistake here,’ he says. And oh, he said to me, when we -were alone together a little while ago that when he saw -that empty face—that’s what he said—that doll’s face, -that bit of waxwork, his blood ran cold, and then says he: -‘When you came in!’—oh dear, I’m not dreaming!—‘When -I saw your charming expressive countenance, -full of life and spirit and wit and goodness’—he did say -that—‘I could not hold myself back, I had to speak at -once, lest I lose you again.’ And now,” concluded the -future Marchioness, turning her radiant visage upon the -milliner, “he’s gone to Harborough House to tell his -uncle, and Mamma and Jane have gone out to a dinner -party, and if you’ll help me into my frock, dear—yes, it is -one of poor Jane’s—I’ll be ready for him when he calls -back, to wish me good night.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IX</h2> - -<p class="ph1"><span class="smcap">In which Miss Pamela Pounce has done with<br> -Love</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Pamela Pounce</span> was nothing if not a business woman, -as her history will have shown. She had not only those -valuable intuitions which divine the public taste, she had -the still more priceless quality of inspiring it.</p> - -<p>Before she had completed her first year with Madame -Mirabel, the millinery department had become the mainstay -of the house; and Pamela felt herself in a position -to hint to her employer how very much more it would be -to their mutual advantage that she should be given a -proprietary share in the business, than that she should -set up for herself.</p> - -<p>Set up for herself! The mere thought of such a catastrophe -put Madame Mirabel in such a flutter that she had -to be revived with ratafia on the spot. There was no -concession that she would not have been willing to make -to prevent it.</p> - -<p>Pamela had prepared a scheme, which was just, fair-minded -and practical, like herself. She was willing to -invest a thousand pounds for the development of the -department, and continue to direct the thriving showroom, -if Madame Mirabel would admit her as partner with -a right to half profits.</p> - -<p>A sketch of an agreement was drafted between them, -drawn up by Pamela herself. Fortified by this document -she sought her redoubtable aunt.</p> - -<p>“Now, Aunt Lydia,” said she, “here’s the opportunity -of your life. You lend me a thousand pounds, and I’ll<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span> -give you ten per cent. for three years and pay you -back at the end of it with a bit over. And if I -drop down dead between, you can come on Madame -Mirabel.”</p> - -<p>Lydia was no fool. She was as fond of money as only -such a nature can be, and had indeed gathered together -quite a substantial hoard in her long years of lucrative -employment. She made all the difficulties, of course, -which the circumstances demanded, but Pamela, who -saw the gleam of greed in her eye, knew that her cause -was won from the outset.</p> - -<p>She good-humouredly consented to sign the stringent -document which Lydia thought necessary for her safety; -and to obtain Madame Mirabel’s signature to it also. -The transaction was concluded without much more delay, -and Miss Pamela Pounce passed from the position of -underling to that of partner.</p> - -<p>The matter was, needless to say, kept private between -Madame Mirabel and herself. It is never wholesome for -the reputation of a business concern to have these conveniences -of management discussed; and, for the mere -sake of discipline where large numbers are employed -and easy jealousies excited, no change affecting authority -can be acknowledged.</p> - -<p>Miss Smithson and Miss Popple, therefore, while unable -to blind themselves to the fact that their aged employer’s -infatuation for that scheming Miss Pounce was more -lamentably evident than ever, still buoyed themselves -up with the hope that her true character would be revealed -before the eyes of the too-trusting dame.</p> - -<p>Miss Sarah Vibart’s wedding order; bride and bridesmaids -hats—Jane was chief bridesmaid, an advertisement -which, as Pamela herself said, would have been worth -paying for ten times over—brought a rush of new <i>clientèle</i> -to the Bond Street house. Mr. Walsingham’s wedding -was the event of June—luckily timed before the unexpected -death of the Marquis of Harborough—and it is -scarcely too much to say that the first thought of every<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span> -lady of fashion who received a ticket of invitation was: -“Pounce shall make me a new hat!”</p> - -<p>Lydia, who kept a close tongue where her nest-egg was -concerned, began to unbend considerably towards her -niece. Nothing succeeds like success. You could scarce -have dragged five shillings out of her, had the girl been -lingering on at Tabbishaw’s, but, as matters stood, my -Lady’s Abigail felt “warm in her inwards,” every time -she thought of that thousand pounds which was so likely -to bring a blessing upon her high sense of family feeling.</p> - -<p>She took to inviting Pamela to a dish of chocolate in -the sewing parlour at Hertford Street of a Saturday -afternoon, promising her also a plate of those queen cakes -“which my Lady’s still-room maid do turn out rather -well, and which you’re so fond of, my dear.”</p> - -<p>These invitations Pamela accepted with increasing -frequency; and if Lydia happened to be washing her -Ladyship’s best lace caps or ironing out her ribbons, it -was only becoming, from a niece to an aunt, that she -should lend a hand, particularly considering the money -obligations between them.</p> - -<p>But Pamela’s real reason for presenting herself at -Hertford Street lay so deep down that it could scarcely -be said that she acknowledged it even to herself.</p> - -<p>She was hankering for news of Jocelyn Bellairs; and at -last, by an artful twist of the conversation, Miss Lydia -was induced to drop a stray word in connection with -him: “that rubbish! Her Ladyship had got a place -for him at Bristol, with an India merchant,” and she -hoped to goodness he’d keep steady, and they’d hear no -more of him.</p> - -<p>That was the first item of information which Pamela -gathered for her starving heart. She tried to tell herself -what a relief it was not to have him hanging about, and -how splendid that he should have work, and how sure -she was that he, so clever, would now make a way -for himself, even as she had done. But it was poor -comfort!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span>After two Saturdays wasted, she once more heard the -beloved name mentioned: this time again in no uncertain -tones of condemnation.</p> - -<p>My Lady was so put about. Lydia hadn’t known her -so upset since the day my Lord was took up as a highwayman; -and she the widow Bellairs and he Denis -O’Hara.</p> - -<p>“That audacious young villain! He’s been making -a regular popinjay of himself at Bath. There’s my Lady -Nan Day, recovering from the measles, writes: ‘Your -nephew, my dear, your nephew is the rage here; driving -the most elegant curricle you ever saw with a pair of -bloods, which, my Philip says, make his mouth water. -Has he come into a fortune or not?’ writes my Lady -Nan—and she was always a spiteful one—‘for he will -need it,’ says she. ‘We was all mortal sorry that his -horse, what he set such store by, failed at the Spring -races.’ My Lady has wrote to him,” pursued Lydia, her -green eyes maliciously fixed upon her niece, “to explain, -for goodness gracious sake, ‘for unless he’s robbed the -mail, Lydia,’ says she, ‘or been more successful on the -highway than my poor Denis’—and that was what put -it into my head, Pamela, my love—‘I’m very much -afraid,’ she says, ‘’tis his master’s strong box he’s been at, -and that will spell prison,’ she says, ‘and the name so -well known.’ Oh, the shame of it!”</p> - -<p>“Shame indeed!” cried Pamela, her glance flashing -back at Lydia’s taunt; she knew very well what gave -such extra zest to these tales; but she, Pamela, was not -one to wear her heart on her sleeve for an old -magpie to peck at.</p> - -<p>On the following Saturday she saw from the first -moment she crossed the threshold that Lydia was big -with news, unpleasant enough to make her bursting to -tell it.</p> - -<p>Pamela was past mistress of exasperating tactics -herself, and there was some very pretty fencing between -the two, by which Lydia was forced to restrain her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span> -old-maidish desire to plant a dagger in the bosom of the -younger maid. Pamela had so much to discourse about -on the new Turban mode, and the last letter from Madame -Eglantine to Madame Mirabel.</p> - -<p>“Poor thing, she’s in all the states, what with these -new dreadful doings and the insolence of the people, and -Ildefonse letting his hair grow and going out to clubs -o’ night to talk blasphemy. Ugh!” said Pamela, “I -never could abide that man.” And my Lady Amelia -Vibart, haggling over the wedding bills, ’twas a scandal! -And had Aunt Lydia heard the last horrid tit-bit about -my Lord Harborough and Miss Falcon? And wouldn’t -it be a pity if Mr. Walsingham were to miss coming in -for the title after all? ’Twas said my Lord Harborough -was mad set on marrying her, when there wouldn’t be -a mite of reason why she shouldn’t have a brat to put -Mr. W.’s nose out of joint!</p> - -<p>Lydia was still seeking for an interval in which to -thrust, when My Lady’s bell rang with the double pull -which indicated that Miss Pounce had better hurry herself, -or my Lady would know the reason why.</p> - -<p>Pamela smiled to herself as the door was banged behind -her Aunt; then she sighed.</p> - -<p>Aunt Lydia was a tabby if ever there was one, but -oh, dear, what dreadful bit of tattle was she bound to -hear before the evening was out? And oh, dear, what -a pity it was that things went so contrary in this world, -and that poor girls had hearts at all!</p> - -<p>She had hardly had time pensively to nibble through a -queen cake—for Pamela was much too sensible to let any -sentimentality interfere with her appetite—when Lydia -reappeared, and, with much flouncing and head tossing, -informed her that, it being a dratted nuisance that people -wouldn’t mind their own business, it had come to her -Ladyship’s ears, through Pompey, that Pamela was -present in the house. Nothing would serve her Ladyship -but that she must come up at once about a “head” -for to-night’s concert.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span>Pamela shook the crumbs from her apron and rose with -the imperturbable alacrity which it was her pride to -bring to all affairs of business.</p> - -<p>The day was hot, and my Lady’s big bed-chamber a -delicious cave of coolness after the highly-elevated -atmosphere of Lydia’s own parlour. The amber curtains -were drawn before the big windows; there was a shining -sea of parquet floor on which delicate French furniture -made here and there an attractive island. An immense -bunch of roses on the spindle-legged dressing-table just -caught the breeze from the wide-open window, and wafted -fragrance. My Lady herself, extended in a vapour of -white muslin on an amber satin couch, lazily fanning herself, -was as agreeable a spectacle as any heated young -woman with refined tastes could hope to gaze upon.</p> - -<p>“Sit down, Miss Pounce,” said Kitty affably. -“(Lydia, get out the bandbox with the saffron head.) -Now, my dear, good, kind creature, look at it. Yes! -I know. ’Tis the sweetest thing I’ve laid eyes on this -season, but conceive my horror, Miss Pounce, when I -heard anon that Her Majesty was to be present at the -Duchess of Portland’s to-night. Conceive my horror! -I saw myself with the Queen’s eyes! I tell you, Miss -Pounce, my days at Court would have been counted.”</p> - -<p>Here Lydia was heard to murmur, with the familiarity -of long service, and a backward scratch at her niece that -she was tired telling her Ladyship that the last year’s -head from Madame Eglantine, which her Ladyship had -never worn but the once, would be the very thing for her -to wear to-night, “and a genteel, tasty, Frenchy confection -it was,” which her Ladyship wouldn’t better -not if she ransacked Bond Street.</p> - -<p>“I tell you, you perverse piece,” cried her mistress, -fanning herself with an energy calculated to make -even the spectator feel hot, “that turn myself into a -frump with a last year’s mode, I’ll not do, even to -please the Queen. Pamela, child, I’ve set my heart on -the saffron head. I vow and protest those gold ospreys<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span> -with the cluster of saffron roses and the little wreath of -green leaves between, I vow and protest ’tis the very -dream to go with my India gold-embroidered gown. -’Tis there on the bed, my dear, as fine as a cobweb! -There’ll not be another like it in the room. And there’s -never anything so elegant as white and gold of a hot night. -With my dark eyes, Pamela, and the gold ospreys—oh, -but the gold ospreys, so airy, so fly-away! And Her -Majesty who will not even tolerate feathers! I’d have -worn my high band of diamonds—pshaw! it grieves me -to the very soul! What can you suggest?”</p> - -<p>Pamela put her finger to her lip and corrugated her -white brow in the profoundest thought. Kitty held her -breath as she watched her. The fate of nations might -have been hanging between them. Then said the -milliner decisively, “I see nothing for it. We can’t do -it, my Lady. The ospreys will have to go.” Then, as -Kitty’s face fell, she added briskly, “But there! I often -say to myself, what seems a trial is a blessing. Why -should not your Ladyship set a fashion? It came to me -just as I looked at your Ladyship’s gown and the fairy -elegance of that India embroidery, and your Ladyship -wears a wreath so becoming; wouldn’t gold grapes and -green leaves look tasty, bunches each side with the -di’mond bandeau to draw them together?”</p> - -<p>“Pounce, you’re a genius!” Kitty dropped her fan -to clap her hands.</p> - -<p>At the same moment my Lord came into the room and -smiled to see her look so pleased.</p> - -<p>“Faith, and I’ve come at the right tick of the clock, -I think—morning to you, Miss Pounce. You and my -Lady and your fripperies, ’tis the business of the -world, ain’t it?” He rubbed his hands and hemmed. -“By your bright face, I’ve come at the right tick, -Kitty, me darling, to ask you for a proof of your good -nature.”</p> - -<p>“A proof of my good nature, my Lord? So long as -’tis nothing to go against my good sense.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span>Kitty was always ready to oblige, in reason, but she -had her wits about her.</p> - -<p>“Stay, child,” she cried, as Pamela prepared discreetly -to withdraw. “It can but take a moment. We must -send Pompey for the grapes, to Bond Street, and I vow -that no hand but yours shall fasten them in my curls. -Your niece will write a note, Lydia, at my escritoire, and -see that the black brat runs. They might send a choice -of sizes, what think you, Pamela? <i>Oh, what is it</i>, my -Lord? You men are so impatient.”</p> - -<p>“Why, Kitty,” said her husband, coming close to the -sofa, on which his lively little spouse now sat very straight, -gesticulating among the mother-of-pearl shimmer of her -cushions. “The matter concerns you, really, more than -meself. At least, it concerns your family. Poor young -Bellairs has been arrested for debt. Nipped from me -very side, my dear, as we came out of the Cocoa Tree -together, a while ago, by a rascally pimp!”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs? Do you refer to Mr. Jocelyn -Bellairs?” asked my Lady Kilcroney, becoming rigid.</p> - -<p>Pamela’s quill, scratching wildly across a great sheet -of paper, was arrested in mid flourish.</p> - -<p>There was a small unpleasant pause, broken by a -loud sniff from Lydia.</p> - -<p>Then my Lady said: “Indeed. I understood the -young gentleman was at Bristol.”</p> - -<p>My Lord was not misled by the quietness of her tone. -“Ah, God help you, Kitty,” he exclaimed, flustered. -“Sure you never believed you could keep a lad of that -kidney with his nose in a desk? Didn’t he off with himself -with his first three months’ salary, and hasn’t his -luck been the talk of Bath, barring the let-down of a -sorrel filly at the point-to-point? And sure, if it hadn’t -been that the dice has been going against him the last -three or four days——” he broke off.</p> - -<p>Kitty sat like an image of scorn; and my Lord, seeing -that his mission did not seem likely to be blessed with -success, proceeded in nettled tones:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span>“The long and the short of it is, I’ve promised Jocelyn -we’d see to it. ’Tis only a matter of ninety-seven pound -ten, when all is said and done. And that to a livery -stableman.”</p> - -<p>He drew a crumpled sheet of blue paper from -his pocket as he spoke. Kitty unexpectedly stretched -out her hand; with a sigh of relief he put it into -it.</p> - -<p>“I knew you’d be the first to say it ought to be paid, -my dearest life.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, it ought to be paid, Denis.”</p> - -<p>“You wouldn’t wish the poor dear lad—and him as -pleasant over the green cloth as ever I met—to be penned -up in the sponging house. Besides which,” added Kilcroney, -in imprudent reminiscence, “don’t I know, isn’t -it the mischief once you get into one of those holes! ’Tis -like a sheep in a ditch: the sky is black with crows after -you in a twinkling.”</p> - -<p>“Very sad,” said my Lady.</p> - -<p>She tendered the blue paper back with an indifferent -gesture.</p> - -<p>“Have you despatched Pompey, Lydia?”</p> - -<p>Lord Kilcroney put his hands behind him.</p> - -<p>“Nay! nay!” cried he, with the uneasy boisterousness -of one who would force the issue as a joke. “’Tis -your business, me darling.”</p> - -<p>“I thought you wanted it paid, my Lord?”</p> - -<p>“And maybe,” cried he, laughing yet more violently, -“you think I can pay it?”</p> - -<p>He began pulling his pockets out.</p> - -<p>“Sure that would be the joke entirely! I’m cleaned -through. There ain’t a single chinker left in my purse, -Kitty, and it’s the lovely red silk one you made me yourself -last Christmas. Troth! I am this moment what -they say Nature abhors——”</p> - -<p>“And what’s that, Sir?”</p> - -<p>“A vacuum, my love,” quoth my Lord, with a great -guffaw.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span>Kitty contemplated him a moment, icily. Then she -said: “All my sympathies are with Nature.”</p> - -<p>Kilcroney reddened, shrugged his shoulders, and -replacing the linings of his pockets in their normal position, -thrust his hands into them, and sauntered out of -the room.</p> - -<p>There was nothing further to be done; the moment -was unpropitious.</p> - -<p>Kitty balled the blue sheet with an angry hand, and -flung it after him, and Pamela, who had never finished -that phrase of directions, rose from the <i>escritoire</i> and -picked it up.</p> - -<p>The action was performed with so much composure that -it seemed but the natural outcome of her good manners.</p> - -<p>“Don’t give it back to me, child!” exclaimed Kitty -with tartness. “Throw it into the waste paper basket. -Have you wrote your message?”</p> - -<p>Pamela walked back to the writing-table.</p> - -<p>“I was un-bethinking myself, your Ladyship, that it -would be better for me to run back myself, and choose -the sprays. Miss Smithson, the person in charge of the -office of a Saturday, is that disagreeable, she’d send the -wrong sets on purpose. It won’t take me half an hour, -my Lady.”</p> - -<p>She tore the sheet she had begun writing upon in two, -and dropped it into the elegant little gilt be-ribboned -basket, which was the repository of my Lady Kilcroney’s -scraps. She made a brisk curtsy and stepped out of -the room.</p> - -<p>Even Lydia’s sharp eyes failed to perceive that she -had not thrown away the livery-man’s crumpled account; -that she had thrust into her kerchief.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs was not destined to spend the -Sabbath in a sponging house, for he was released on -Saturday night, someone having settled Mr. Thomas -Jobbin’s livery-stable account, before any other of his -creditors had had wind of his arrest.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span>Now the young gentleman had stepped into liberty -in a very bad humour. He had no doubt but that he -was once again indebted to my Lady Kilcroney in the -matter, but, like many another spendthrift, not having -the smallest claim upon her generosity he considered -that it ought to be unlimited in his regard, and felt himself -injured that it should go no further. He had come to -view himself as having a right to a share of old Bellairs’s -money. Wasn’t he, split him, the last of the name? -Now, was this a way to treat the only living representative -of a Nabob who had left his widow the command -of millions? Just the debt writ off, and not a farthing -over to jingle in your pocket, or a question what was to -become of a fellow! “Never you turn a hair,” had said -my Lord. “I’ll be back again in a jiffy to set you free, -and we’ll have a jolly night of it while my Lady’s at her -caterwaul.”</p> - -<p>He had expected no less of one who, like Denis Kilcroney, -was profiting not only of his own uncle’s hoard, but of -that old gentleman’s tactful demise.</p> - -<p>But instead of the promised re-appearance a message -had been flung in at him, left by a lackey towards seven -of the clock; my Lord was mortal sorry, and he sent a -bottle of gin and some lemons.</p> - -<p>And at ten the prisoner had been told he was free.</p> - -<p>Mr. Bellairs had hot blood, and it was all afire. And -the mischief was in it that he might not even have the -satisfaction of calling out the dashed Irishman for his -insolence, since he couldn’t help being under an obligation.</p> - -<p>He avoided the Cocoa Tree that evening and plunged -into lower haunts, where, not in the very best company, -play ran very nearly as high as at the Mayfair clubs.</p> - -<p>He was an audacious, reckless player, but in the main -a successful one. To-night there was something almost -fantastic in his luck. He went home in the blue of the -morning with his pockets full of gold; his resentful mood -was rather augmented by his good fortune than otherwise.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span>Nor was he in a whit better temper when some five -hours later he swaggered out into the Green Park, shaven -to velvet, his sparrow-tail coat, his high close-fitting -boots, his tight buckskin breeches and their bunches of -ribbon, his short waistcoat, and his big buckled hat, the -very last thing in manly modes. It was his intention to -call upon my Lady Kilcroney in Hertford Street and -repay her the paltry ninety-seven pounds ten which stood -between him and a meeting with my Lord.</p> - -<p>Miss Pamela Pounce, coming from church and stepping -in the same direction—she had grown singularly attentive -to Aunt Lydia—came plump upon the Beau as their -paths converged at the Piccadilly gate. His dark face -kindled while her blooming cheek grew pale.</p> - -<p>“La, to be sure, sir, who’d ha’ thought of meeting -you?”</p> - -<p>“Why, and is it you, Pamela?”</p> - -<p>His eye ran her up and down. She was clad in shimmering -blue-lilac taffety, and her wide-brimmed hat, of -the kind which Sir Joshua had set the rage, was trimmed -with broad silk ribbons of the same shade. She wore a -plain muslin kerchief; a black ribbon tied back her unpowdered -chestnut curls. She made a very pleasant -picture; all, with perfect taste, within a certain modest -compass becoming her station.</p> - -<p>There was no mistaking the emotion evoked in her by -the sight of him. Her breath came quickly; her clear -gaze fluttered and fell, and her pallor was succeeded by -a flame of carnation.</p> - -<p>Now out of the black mood in Mr. Bellairs’s soul there -flashed an evil fire.</p> - -<p>“Of all the meetings in the whole world,” cried he, -ardently, “there’s none could give me half so much joy, -my dearest creature. Turn with me. I must speak with -you. Nay, Pamela, I vow, I vow, you’ve not been out -of my thoughts this month. Turn and come with me, I -say. Let us away under the trees, where we can talk by -ourselves. Pamela, dearest Pamela, take my arm. You<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span> -are more lovely than ever, and I am—I am more headlong -in love than ever I was before!”</p> - -<p>There was too great a flutter in the girl’s soul for her -to have her usual cool grip of the situation. An overwhelming -tide of happiness lifted her from her mental -balance. She could not doubt that, after all these -months, it must be a genuine love that lit up his glance, -that trembled in his voice and in his touch She had -proved to him, surely, what kind of girl she was. He -must mean the right thing at last, or he would not so -whole-heartedly declare himself.</p> - -<p>And she had just rendered him a signal service, which -(though he could not yet know it), gave her a delightful -sense of meeting him on his own level. She was, moreover, -in a vastly different position now from that of the -mere working milliner. She had resources at her command; -a future before her.</p> - -<p>And there he was, the dear fellow, and he loved her -still! Could a Sunday morning in June hold a more -golden bliss?</p> - -<p>So she hung on his arm, and listened with parted lips -to his raptures, to the fantastic string of plans, the sweet, -repeated endearments which poured from his lips. Now -that they had met there were to be no more partings. -Things were changed. He had plenty of money. Here -she looked at him in astonishment, and he drew a handful -of gold from his pocket. He was in the Devil’s own vein -of luck, he told her. He wouldn’t listen to her objurgation; -he laughed at the admonishing finger. Her assurance -that she possessed a safer and more worthy source of -wealth he tossed aside as a jest. There was a horse of -his booked for Ascot. If she did not romp in with a -sweet little cottage at Fulham for them both at her -heels!...</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mr. Bellairs!” Pamela clasped her other hand -over his arm. “I could come up and down to business -as easy as easy. A cottage with a bit of garden! ’Tis -the very thing I’ve always dreamed of!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span>“And I hope you put me in the dream, my lovely -girl.” He kissed her behind the trunk of a big beech-tree. -“Why,” cried he, “who’d have thought to find -you so sensible all at once?”</p> - -<p>It was not, perhaps, so much the words, as the way -in which he looked at her after he had kissed her, that -opened the sudden gulf before her! She drew back, and -stood staring; her face haggard; all the lovely bloom -and youthful ecstasy blasted out of it.</p> - -<p>Then she said, in a low, strained voice—Pamela went -straight to her point, she was not one to cover ugly -situations with a mince of words—“You don’t mean -marriage, then, Mr. Bellairs?”</p> - -<p>The ugliness of his mood sprang into naked prominence. -He broke into a loud laugh.</p> - -<p>“Come, don’t play the prude, now! Don’t pretend -you didn’t understand.” Then he added, a sort of shame -creeping into his accents in spite of himself, “Be -sensible, my dear girl. Don’t play the fool with our lives -again.”</p> - -<p>He put out his arm again to embrace her, but she -struck him a vigorous buffet that sent him staggering -from her.</p> - -<p>“You’ve laid a vile trap for me, Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs, -but thank God I didn’t fall into it! I see you now as you -are, a low, selfish scamp that doesn’t think it shame to -take his pleasure on other people. You’d drag my good -name into the dust with as little concern as you live on -my Lady’s money. So long as you get your fling you -don’t care who you rob or what you destroy! Oh, -I’m glad to have seen you as you are! And good -morning to you, Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs, for a very paltry -dog!”</p> - -<p>She swept him a curtsy which was magnificent in -its repudiation. He had a swift vision of her scorching -eyes, her scarlet cheeks; she turned and left him, dumbfounded.</p> - -<p>“I’m done with love,” said Pamela Pounce, to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span> -herself. “May I never hear of it, or see it, or touch it -again!”</p> - -<p>Little did she guess with what overwhelming passion -she was very shortly destined to behold the cruel god at -work upon another life!</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER X</h2> - -<p class="ph1"><span class="smcap">In Which Miss Pamela Pounce Sets Three Black<br> -Feathers for Tragedy</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Miss Pamela Pounce</span> was in the act of tying on her own -hat, in the upper room, preparatory to departure after -the day’s work, when a breathless junior summoned -her.</p> - -<p>“There’s a young lady below as wants to see you, -Miss Pounce, and, la! I think ’tis Miss Falcon!”</p> - -<p>Now, Felicity Falcon had recently flashed out upon -the London stage with a startling and unexpected splendour -that was more like that of a comet than of a star; -Miss Farren, Mrs. Siddons, Mrs. Jordan, were for the -moment as idols overthrown. The cry was all for Falcon. -Her name was on every man’s lips. She was the first -excitement of the season; and not the opera, not an -oratorio, not a concert, not a rout at Almack’s, nor a -display at Ranelagh, could be said to offer attraction in -comparison to the playhouse which announced the fair -Falcon in the night’s performance.</p> - -<p>On hearing this remarkable name, Pamela paused, her -hand on the black velvet string which fastened her simple -Dunstable straw under her round, white chin. A play-actress! -Many a young person of that profession had -Miss Pounce with dignity shown forth already from the -doors of this select establishment: “Much regretting, -Madame, that there is nothing likely to suit you here.”</p> - -<p>Heavens, if a Mirabel hat were to be recognised on the -boards! But Felicity Falcon? It was only last week -that Pamela had wept and trembled, and sucked in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span> -breaths of excitement over her “Mrs. Haller.” Never -had she beheld anything more affecting, more impassioned, -soul-stirring, and elegant than that impersonation.</p> - -<p>To provide Miss Falcon with a hat in which she would -enthral and ravish all London! It was too splendid -an opportunity for such an artistic soul as that of Pamela -to resist. After hours, too, and the shutters putting up, -and no fear of awkward rencounters. And if some of -her ladies did find it out, why, foh! for one that -would be offended, forty would order a hat to the same -model.</p> - -<p>Pamela flung the Dunstable straw off her chestnut -head, and turning with great dignity, “Inform Miss -Falcon,” said she, “that I will attend her presently.”</p> - -<p>After a due delay, which she spent in drumming with -white fingers on the dressing-table, her eyes lost beyond -her own reflection, in a far vision of millinery genius, -Madame Mirabel’s partner appeared in the empty shop; -sedate, her eyebrows well elevated into her white forehead, -her hands folded on her trim waistband.</p> - -<p>The slender figure in the brown silk cloak turned -quickly with a rustle and flutter.</p> - -<p>“You was wishful to speak with me, Madam?” -questioned Miss Pounce, in her finest business manner.</p> - -<p>“I want a hat for to-night, for Lady Teazle—for the -third act, for the screen scene. Oh, I want something——”</p> - -<p>Miss Pounce raised her hand.</p> - -<p>“One moment, Madam.”</p> - -<p>She gazed at the narrow, pale face, unrouged; the -dark, ardent eyes.</p> - -<p>“’Tis the most mortal-genteel creature I have ever -seen,” thought Pamela.</p> - -<p>“Not a word, Miss Falcon!” cried she. Then in the -tone of a sibyl: “Black and white; or yet all white. -But if you listen to me, black <i>and</i> white.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve no time to get any new gowns for the part,” said -Miss Falcon.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span>She had a slow, musical voice, with a ring in it as of -tears never far off, yet never to be shed.</p> - -<p>“And if you’ll excuse me, Miss,” repeated the milliner, -“Lady Teazle’s not your part, so to speak. -Tragedy, that’s what you’re born to. Oh, your Mrs. -Haller!” Pamela drew a sucking breath in reminiscence -of last week’s thrills. “There! I’d never ask to enjoy -anything more. Cry, I did. I couldn’t see out of my -two eyes, I vow and protest, when I came forth out of -the theatre. But if it’s got to be Lady Teazle, Madame, -’tis your one bit of tragedy I’m to dress your head for, -as I understand it. And put colour on it—I declare I’d -as soon stick a pink rosette on that there goddess with -the lamp from Greece his Grace of Hampshire sets so -much store by in his hall. Put yourself into white for -it, Miss Falcon, and I’ll do you a hat that’ll show it off -and you. When all’s said and done, ’twill be a symbol -of what an innocent, poor young lady you are, so took in -by that lying young gentleman, what I’d hiss off the -boards every time he shows his vile, deceitful face, if I’d -my will! La! men are base creatures,” cried Pamela -out of her own bitterness. “White for your innocence, -and the shadow of my broad brim over your eyes with -a toss of white feathers atop, and just three black plumes -standing up in the midst of them; the bit of tragedy -that has come into your young life; one,” said Miss -Pounce, “for the horrid danger you’ve escaped, and one -for your poor deceived heart, and one for the remorse, -like, over the goodness of that kind Sir Peter, making his -will so generous and trusting, for all his ways ’ud be -enough to drive any wife out of her wits. Those black -feathers,” said the girl impressively, “will show you -off, Miss Falcon, better than trumpet blasts.”</p> - -<p>Miss Falcon listened with an odd, abstracted look.</p> - -<p>“So you think I’m best in tragedy, do you?” she -said, and sighed. “But I don’t want to be tragic, I -want to be happy.” And then: “I’m late!” she -cried impetuously. “You’ll have to bring me the hat<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span> -to the theatre. I’ve scarce the time to get into my -clothes.”</p> - -<p>A handsome private coach, with liveried footmen, was -waiting for her at the door, and as Pamela accompanied -her to the threshold, the actress looked back over her -shoulder with a fugitive smile:</p> - -<p>“I’ll wear a white satin gown for the screen scene,” -she said, stepped into the coach, and was whirled -away.</p> - -<p>Pamela stood looking after her.</p> - -<p>“Now who’s paying for all that?” the milliner asked -herself. “Some very great personage, ’tis well known; -for anything more splendid and discreet I never see. -Best in tragedy, you poor thing!” The tears rose to -Pamela’s candid eyes. “Why, ’tis tragedy itself you -are already! You so young, with that smile that ought -to have warmed a good man’s heart! La, if my ladies -knew who ’tis I’m going to trim a hat for this minute, -and where ’tis I’m to bring it when ’tis done!”</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Pamela Pounce looked about her with shrewd eyes, -as she sat, very politely, on the edge of a cane chair in -Miss Falcon’s dressing-room at Drury Lane. A bandbox -at her feet, her hands folded one across the other in her -dove-grey lap, she presented the very image of elegant -propriety in a doubtful atmosphere. She had not -expected to find company in the dressing-room, the play -being well started; nevertheless, there was a knot of -two or three modish-looking individuals who laughed a -good deal together, and tapped the lids of their own -snuff-boxes and took pinches out of each other’s with -positively the last thing in flourishes.</p> - -<p>The gaunt woman who moved about at the back of the -dressing-table, unnecessarily shaking garments, was, -of course, the actress’s dresser, and a sour piece she was, -thought Pamela, who had already refused, with a high -air of contempt, this functionary’s proposal to leave the -bandbox with her. “As if I was come all this way to do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span> -porter’s work!” thought Miss Pounce, with a toss of -her admirably tired head.</p> - -<p>Miss Falcon was standing at the door, looking in upon -them, before anyone was aware of her presence; then she -came forward, followed by a portly, handsome gentleman -past middle age, at sight of whom the gossips bowed to -a most obsequious depth.</p> - -<p>Miss Falcon bore still upon her countenance the -humorous peevishness of the character she had just -represented.</p> - -<p>“Why, how now?” she exclaimed. “Fie, for shame, -gentlemen! What are you doing here? If you desire -to show me a compliment your place is before the curtain, -sirs! Foh! ’Tis a poor compliment to salute an actress -in her dressing-room!”</p> - -<p>“Why, my dearest creature!” exclaimed the chief of -the fops, coming forward, and bowing repeatedly with -such an affected parade of courtesy that Pamela’s hand -itched to box his ears. “I vow and declare we are but -mustering all our energies to acclaim you after your -great scene! We would not spoil that effect, ’pon our -life! Not for a hundred thousand guineas! What’s -Lady Teazle before the screen scene? No part for your -genius, incomparable Falcon!”</p> - -<p>“Out with you now, then!” said Miss Falcon. “Good -evening, Miss Pounce. Oh, gentlemen, gentlemen, indeed -you cannot remain here! Miss Pounce and I have the -most important business on hand. La, that bandbox! -It is vastly good of you, Miss Pounce. Pray, my Lord, -give the gentlemen the lead and take them to their seats!”</p> - -<p>“Rat me!” said the spokesman of the fashionable -group, looking round with what Pamela thought was a -very offensive leer. “If my Lord Harborough sets the -example, who are we that we should refuse to follow it? -After you, my Lord Marquis.”</p> - -<p>Pamela had often heard the name of the great Marquis, -especially of late, but she had never yet seen him. She -now gazed at him with shrewd eyes of disapproval.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span>“Ah, my Lord, you may have a fine taste in coaches -and in the horses to draw them, and a superlative -delicate taste in play-actresses, but to my mind ’tis -mortal poor taste to be bringing those grey hairs that are -under your wig, and an honoured name, and all your -privilege to the undoing of one poor girl! You should -keep that smile for your grand-nephews—Mr. W.’s -brats—you should indeed, my Lord!”</p> - -<p>My Lord Harborough raised himself from a profound -bow over the hand which Felicity Falcon extended to him -in a careless sort of way, more as if she were dropping -something out of it than yielding it to his caress. The -smile he gave her as he straightened himself was full of -ardent admiration. Although he failed to meet with her -favour, Pamela could not but admit that he had a very -splendid presence, and that any woman’s head, much less -that of a young player on her promotion, might well be -turned by receiving attention from such a quarter.</p> - -<p>My Lord Marquis now waved the company from the -room with a politely compelling gesture, as of a host who -bids his guests pass before him; kissed his hand to Miss -Falcon, and himself departed.</p> - -<p>“Now, my dear girl, my dear girl, the hat!” cried she, -turning upon Pamela.</p> - -<p>And Pamela had the strange thought that Miss Falcon—even -though she had stepped off the boards—had not -ceased acting for one single moment, and that no emotion -had been more cleverly counterfeited than the playfulness -with which she was now herself addressed.</p> - -<p>Indeed, when Felicity Falcon first contemplated her -countenance in the mirror under that confection in which -Miss Pounce considered her own genius had reached its -most perfect expression, so deep an air of tragedy spread -itself over her features that the sprightly milliner thought -in dismay, “Heaven be good to me; to see her one would -think my lovely feathers were crowning a hearse!”</p> - -<p>But as if she guessed her companion’s thoughts, the -play-actress instantly resumed a jocund air, and, twisting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span> -her head from side to side, treated her own reflection to -smiles of different meanings, as though testing their -effect; mischief, archness, innocent mirth, mockery, -melancholy, chased each other across her fair countenance -like shadows over a pool, and in each Miss Pounce could -have cried out to her to stay it, vowing that she was more -perfect in it than the last.</p> - -<p>Indeed, the delicate loveliness set in the flying powdered -curls, crowned with the soft splendour of the feathers, -marked, so to speak, by the three notes of black, was a -vision worth gazing upon. The sheen of the white satin -she had chosen for her robe flung up the ivory of her -shoulders and throat. Miss Pounce almost regretted to -see the obligatory smear of rouge put on each pale cheek; -by which, however, the lily fairness gained something -exotic, feverish, that seemed to match very well with the -swift passion of her art.</p> - -<p>“It’ll be such a Lady Teazle as never was,” thought -the milliner; and was wondering whether she could yet -find a seat for herself in the theatre, when, turning -suddenly dark, haunted eyes upon her, Miss Falcon said -like a child:</p> - -<p>“Oh, do let me find you here when I come back, you -kind thing!” and, without giving Madame Mirabel’s -head woman time to reply, she added: “I know you will,” -and whisked back to the dressing-table.</p> - -<p>Her hand hovered over a closed jewel-case, then, -shrugging her shoulders, she drew out a string of pearls -and clasped it round her throat.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>It was strange for Pamela presently to sit alone in the -little dressing-room and think of the mimic play of -emotion, clash of passion and interest that was enthralling -so many scores of spectators within a few yards of her; -to think, too, of that drama of real life, so sad and shameful, -of which she had unexpectedly become a witness.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span>It was contrary to her vivacious nature to sit, unoccupied -and in patience, while the world swept on its -way, but to-night she had much to engross her thoughts. -All she had seen pointed to courses which, to her straight -judgment, could not but appear as evil. Yet if ever, -thought Pamela Pounce, there was delicacy and purity -stamped on a human countenance, if ever noble pride, -it was on the face of the young play-actress.</p> - -<p>“Why did she ask me to remain?” puzzled the girl. -“If my Lord Harborough is her protector, as he seems to -be, what does she want with a poor, honest milliner? -Oh, la! to see her, so beautiful, with them pearls, and to -know what it means, I could fair cry!”</p> - -<p>Miss Falcon’s dresser came rushing in, declaring that -there never had been such a success as the new Lady -Teazle; that the house had had her out again and again. -“And, oh, my goodness, the shouts and claps and nose-gays -flying! What a pity Miss had not been in the -gallery!”</p> - -<p>Before Pamela had time to reply Miss Falcon herself, -accompanied by a very conspicuous group of admirers, -returned to her dressing-room. Her flush outdid the -rouge, her eyes flashed. The tips of her taper fingers -rested on Lord Harborough’s wrist, and he came in -leading her with an air as though her triumph belonged -to him. Behind her the sycophants gabbled, “for all -the world like father’s geese,” thought Miss Pounce.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my Lord, she is incomparable!” “I do assure -you, Miss Falcon, when the screen was knocked down -and you stood forth I could have fallen on my knees -before you!” “’Pon honour! ’Pon honour, never was -acting half so fine!”</p> - -<p>The flush was fading, and the fire dying in her gaze as -she turned round upon them.</p> - -<p>“Pray, gentlemen, you are very kind, but I have to -change my gown for the next act. My Lord, bid your -friends leave me. And you too, my Lord.”</p> - -<p>As bowing, kissing hands, grimacing, jostling against<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span> -each other, the little knot of gossips withdrew, obedient -once more to their patron’s wave, he himself lingered.</p> - -<p>“Felicity,” he said, “there never was anyone like you. -My dear, you brought the tears to my eyes.”</p> - -<p>When he released her hand there was a new ring upon -it. The donor hurried forth, as if, with the finest tact, -to forego gratitude in connection with a trifle, or so Miss -Pounce understood his magnificent mien.</p> - -<p>Felicity gazed at the object on her hand, gave a -laugh which rang scornful, dropped the jewel from -her on the dressing-table, and sat down before the -mirror.</p> - -<p>“Now,” said she to Pamela, “take off the hat yourself, -if you will. My dresser hath so gross a touch. The hat, -you know, it has made me to-night. I owe you a vast -debt of gratitude. Oh, those black feathers! Your -excellent taste, child, gave the note, I do assure you, to -my whole rendering. The tragedy, you know, and the -innocence, and the remorse.”</p> - -<p>It seemed to Pamela as if she were mocking herself -as she gazed upon her own countenance. She broke off. -There was a knock at the door.</p> - -<p>“Come in,” she cried. And, as a young gentleman in -mourning, with a pale face, appeared in the aperture, -she went on in an unchanged voice: “How would it be, -Miss Pounce, if I were to run a blue ribbon among these -curls? ’Twould not come amiss, I think, in the last act, -to mark the girlishness of Lady Teazle beside so old a -husband. Now, my Lord, pray be quick about your -business. I have scarce five minutes to give you! Yes, -a blue ribbon, I think. You have such charming fingers, -my dear, pray pass it in yourself. Go on, my Lord, I can -see you very well in the glass, and sure, besides, I did not -promise to look at you, so long as I listen.”</p> - -<p>“You mean to torture me,” said the young man in -a low voice.</p> - -<p>Had he been on the rack, Pamela thought, glancing -compassionately at his reflection, as her hands moved<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span> -delicately in the actress’s tresses, he could scarce have -had a greater air of suffering.</p> - -<p>“Pho!” cried Miss Falcon. (“Is not that a trifle too -forward, Miss Pounce?”) “Pray, my Lord, remember, -this interview is none of my seeking.”</p> - -<p>“I asked to speak with you alone.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, but I did not promise you that! Say out, or -keep silence, it matters nothing to me.”</p> - -<p>“I begin to believe what I have heard,” he exclaimed -hoarsely.</p> - -<p>Her eye flashed lightning at his image in the glass.</p> - -<p>“Indeed, my Lord? And that again leaves me indifferent.”</p> - -<p>But as she spoke she turned round on her chair. What -a marvel of loveliness she was, thought the milliner. -’Twas but natural any poor young gentleman that loved -her should be distraught upon her. He gazed on her -wildly, then broke out, clasping his hands:</p> - -<p>“Nay,” he cried. “I will not believe it. I will not -believe it, unless you tell me yourself. Felicity, my -father is dead. I am my own master. Look at me. -Behold this black. I came straight—yes, I am not -ashamed of it—straight from the closing of my father’s -grave to offer you my hand and name.”</p> - -<p>He paused.</p> - -<p>“I ought, no doubt, to be overwhelmed at your -generosity. A month ago you were no less ardent, if I -remember right, in pressing a different proposition,” she -said very quietly.</p> - -<p>Pamela’s heart quickened in passionate sympathy. -What a world was this for poor girls!</p> - -<p>“It’s not possible,” the young gentleman cried, “that -you will carry rancour so far! A month ago I was not -a free agent; a month ago I—oh, confusion! You -cannot have understood. I—Miss Falcon, I am now -Earl Ashmore, and I ask you to become my countess. -This is a question of marriage. You cannot thus lightly -dismiss so honourable, so respectful an offer!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span>“Marriage!” she laughed. “I, too, am a free agent, -sir, and I have tasted liberty longer than you. I have -no desire to relinquish it.”</p> - -<p>A moment he stood gazing at her with clenched hands -and open mouth, as if unable to grasp the extent of her -folly and his own misery. Then he snapped his jaws -together and crimsoned to the roots of his lightly powdered -hair.</p> - -<p>“It’s true, then?”</p> - -<p>“What is true?”</p> - -<p>“What all the world says; that you’re my Lord -Harborough’s—my Lord Harborough’s——”</p> - -<p>He choked upon the word.</p> - -<p>Pamela Pounce held her breath in the dreadful silence -that ensued. Then:</p> - -<p>“Don’t be a foolish lad,” said Miss Falcon in a changed -kind voice. “One day you’ll say, ‘Whatever the player -woman may have done, she did one good deed to me. -She wouldn’t marry me when I was fool enough to ask -her.’”</p> - -<p>Then Felicity turned back to the mirror with a laugh -that rang like tinkling icicles, so musical it was, so cold.</p> - -<p>The wretched young man cast himself on his knees, -lifted his clasped hands and wrung them. He had forgotten -that there was any witness, save the one who was, -at that moment, all the world to him.</p> - -<p>“Felicity, I don’t care what you have done—what you -are to that bad old man. I will forgive everything. -Come to me and be my wife!”</p> - -<p>“Now, Bonnets, open the door. Miss Pounce, pray -put a hand upon my Lord’s elbow and help him to rise. -That is the way out, my Lord Ambrose. (I cannot help -it. I remember best the name under which you once -insulted me.) <i>You</i> forgive me? Had I the time I could -laugh. Heavens! But three minutes to get into the -paduasoy!”</p> - -<p>She did laugh as the young nobleman, a look on his -face which struck a kind of terror into Pamela’s womanly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span> -heart, flung his hands out with a menace and dashed -from the room.</p> - -<p>“Thank Heaven, the creature’s gone! Bolt the door, -Mrs. Bonnets. I’ll have no more visitors till the play’s -over!”</p> - -<p>Pamela Pounce was not bidden remain this time; but -she could not bring herself to leave the dressing-room -until Miss Falcon’s last appearance there. Talk of plays! -What a tremendous play she had seen that night. ’Twould -be like walking out before the last curtain dropped to go -home now.</p> - -<p>When the actress returned she was accompanied only by -Lord Harborough. As he led her in he looked at her hand.</p> - -<p>“I see,” he said, “you have not honoured my poor -gift.”</p> - -<p>“My Lord,” she said, “I have honoured you sixty-five -times with these pearls. Is it not enough? As for -rings, there is a slave weight about them. I hate them. -But is this really mine? Mine to do as I will with?”</p> - -<p>He smiled at each question, and Pamela thought that, -for all his fond admiration, there was a sort of contemptuous -indulgence lurking in his glance—that he had -the air of one who says to himself, “These pretty tricks -are known; these charming moods are part of the little -game. I have not the enthusiasm of youth, but I have -experience, I have toleration, and I have patience!”</p> - -<p>“It is an elegant and artistic ring,” said Miss Falcon, -lifting it to the light of the wax candles which branched -from her mirror. “A sapphire, I see, and all chased.”</p> - -<p>“It was found,” said Lord Harborough, “in a Roman -tomb. There is not another like it in the world!”</p> - -<p>“And what does it represent? Oh, I see snakes about -that strange little face!”</p> - -<p>“’Tis a Medusa head.”</p> - -<p>“What?” she cried. “What an ill omen for an -actress! How terrible if I were to turn my audience to -stone. Fie, I would not keep such a thing about me for -the world! Pray, Miss Pounce, will you accept this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span> -trifle in memory of our first acquaintance and of, oh, -your beautiful hat! How kind of you, dear girl, to stay -and see the last of me. Why, it just fits your finger! -Nay, I will take no refusal. My cloak, Bonnets! La, -I am mortal tired. Pray, my Lord, good night. Well, -as far as the coach then, but no further. Remember -our compact!”</p> - -<p>“As far as the coach,” said the peer, with his disillusioned -smile. “As far as the coach at least, lovely -mystery, beautiful secret! Oh, the Medusa head would -have been vastly appropriate, I assure you!”</p> - -<p>They went forth, and Pamela Pounce stared at her -ring. She had never felt, in all her varied energetic -existence, thus puzzled and troubled.</p> - -<p>“Heaven ha’ mercy,” she thought, “what a prodigious -bit of insolence, to give it to me under his very nose! -And, oh, lud, what’s a body to think? Will he marry -her after all and my poor Miss Sarah and Mr. W. be cut -out? She wears his pearls and drives in his coach, and -yet withal he’s to lead her no further than its door!”</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>“’Tis the most dreadful tale, child, that’s current,” -said my Lady Kilcroney to her friend, Nan Day, as they -met in Madame Mirabel’s hat shop. “They say my -young Lord Ashmore has put an end to himself. I met -the Duke of Hampshire anon, and His Grace could scarce -speak, so overwhelmed was he. Lord Ashmore’s father -was his friend and neighbour.”</p> - -<p>Pamela Pounce put down the dove-coloured capote -she had been about to place upon Lady Anne Day’s pretty -head. She was more affected than her customer, who -looked up, knitting her brows vaguely, with small -interest in her blue eyes.</p> - -<p>“Ashmore?”</p> - -<p>“Why, Nan, he that was young Ambrose! A pretty -youth, and full of promise. It seems he was mad in love -with Falcon, the actress. Did you see her Lady Teazle<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span> -last night? ’Twas a wonder, my love, but a thought too -solemn. But, oh, Pounce, child, she had a hat! You -should have seen it! With all your art, you’ve never -dreamt one like it. Eglantine, Eglantine at her best. -Paris was stamped all over it. When all is said and done -there is naught like the French taste.”</p> - -<p>“I have always said so, my Lady,” responded Miss -Pounce, “and there’s a case upstairs full of the real Paris -modes, of which I’d like your Ladyship to have her pick -this moment! Perhaps the last consignment we’ll get for -goodness knows how long, seeing the trouble over there. -Fetched at the Dover coach office by our special messenger -not half an hour ago, I do assure your Ladyship.”</p> - -<p>Pamela could control her voice better than her -hands, and the professional patter escaped her almost -mechanically.</p> - -<p>“But I haven’t seen how the capote suits me,” protested -Nan Day, a little pettishly. “Kitty, what say you? -I’ve been so long in the fields. I was scarce fit to go out -in a chair at Bath, so worn was I with the sick-nursing,” -complained the squire’s wife, “I have positively forgot -what a fashion looks like. Sister Susan promised to -meet me here and advise—not indeed that I care for my -Lady Verney’s taste. You are ten thousand times better, -my dearest Kitty. Pray give me your opinion.”</p> - -<p>“My love,” said Kitty, “in all sober earnest I am too -overset to be able to give my mind to it as I ought. That -unfortunate young man! It seems Lord Harborough -cast him out of her dressing-room last night, and there -was a monstrous great scandal at the theatre door. The -wretched girl, my Lord Harborough——”</p> - -<p>“And what, my Lady, have you heard of it already?” -said a masculine voice behind her. And all started to -behold Lord Verney in their midst. “I thought I -was the first to have wind of it, coming straight from -Brooks’s. ’Tis scarce an hour since he was picked up -unconscious.”</p> - -<p>“Never say,” cried my Lady Kilcroney in horror,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span> -“that he had so little discretion as to choose a club for -such an act.”</p> - -<p>Lord Verney stared.</p> - -<p>“Why, Madame, you speak as if the poor Marquis had -had any choice in the matter?”</p> - -<p>“The poor Marquis? In Heaven’s name, collect your -wits. ’Tis not Lord Harborough who has committed -suicide?”</p> - -<p>“Indeed, my Lady Kilcroney, the idea is sprung -entirely from your own imagination. Lord Harborough’s -illness is a fit. He had scarce interchanged a few words -with a friend in the club-room when he groaned and fell -forward. Sir Richard Jebb and Dr. Jenner were at once -summoned. They could not get the blood to flow. He -was still breathing, that was all.”</p> - -<p>“Well, ’tis another old sinner gone to his account,” -said Nan Day philosophically. “And Sarah W. is a -Marchioness—who’d have thought it? Where is Susan? -I’m not sure, Miss Pounce, that I really care for a capote. -Could you not let me see some of those French hats you -spoke of anon?”</p> - -<p>“Ah, Nan, you have indeed sadly lost touch with the -world, child! ’Twas a magnificent fine gentleman, a -noble patron of literature and art——”</p> - -<p>“Ay, and of the stage, by your own showing, Kitty.” -Nan Day spoke smartly. “Pray, Miss Pounce, did you -not hear me?”</p> - -<p>Pamela felt sick and faint. She was glad enough of -the excuse to crawl away and take a dose of the hartshorn -which was kept handy in the workroom in hot weather. -When she returned to the showroom to announce that -the case was at that moment being opened—her head -girl was wrapping all last week’s inspirations carefully -in tissue for the occasion—she found the company increased -by My Lady Verney and Mrs. Lafone, and that -well-known personage, Beau Stafford. He was speaking -as she entered, and the first words that caught her ear -were these:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span>“I call her Fair Fatality.”</p> - -<p>Mistress Molly Lafone’s shrill accents were then uplifted.</p> - -<p>“Why, Mr. Stafford,” though she was sister-in-law to -the Beau there was small love lost between them, “granting -the suicide—to be sure, the poor young man must -have been mad—you cannot hold Miss Falcon responsible -for Lord Harborough’s seizure.”</p> - -<p>“You know a good deal, Mistress Molly, but you don’t -know everything. Young Lord Ashmore attacked the -Marquis in the street last night. There was a terrible -scene between them. Ay, ladies, all on account of that -wild bird, the Falcon. Lord Harborough had to call to -his footmen—fact, I assure you! Only for the scandal he -would have handed his assailant to the watch. ’Twas -the shock of hearing of the rash youth’s dreadful end, -this morning, that has been the death of him. Ay, My -Lord Harborough is dead. They were pulling down the -blinds of Harborough House as I passed along the Mall.”</p> - -<p>“Fair Fatality, indeed!” cried Kitty. “And her -so young and handsome, and not a six months famous -yet.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, she’s a cunning piece!” interposed Molly. “I -have heard tales of her ways. They say none knows -where she lives, nor where she comes from, nor her real -name. She wraps herself in the utmost mystery. Probably,” -went on the little lady, with her acid titter, “’tis -some grocer’s daughter! But poor simplicity has no -chance, especially with the gentlemen. You must play -the romantick.”</p> - -<p>My Lady Kilcroney, her fingers to her lips, seemed lost -in reflection.</p> - -<p>“Was there not a story of a duel, Mr. Stafford?”</p> - -<p>“A duel, Madam? Five, to my certain knowledge,” -asseverated the Beau. “And all with more or less -serious results.”</p> - -<p>“Pshaw, ’tis like an Italian tale of the evil eye!” -Nan shuddered. “I’ll not go to Drury Lane and come<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span> -under it, ’tis pos! <i>Pray, Miss Pounce? Oh, no, not -green! Green! Am I never to get away from it?</i>”</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Miss Falcon’s fame did not suffer from the double -tragedy of which she had been so singularly the cause. -She withdrew from the programmes for a week after the -funerals of the two unfortunate noblemen, and then -reappeared, to play to houses more crowded, more enthusiastic -than ever. The wild rumours which began -to circulate about her only served to increase the public -frenzy.</p> - -<p>Pamela Pounce, much occupied with the Walsingham -mourning, was for some time unable to gratify her desire -to see Fair Fatality act once more; a desire which—so -far was she from sharing Lady Anne Day’s fears—had -now indeed become a kind of obsession. When circumstances -permitted her at last to indulge herself, she -purchased a ticket in the forefront of the gallery, and -prepared to enjoy a couple of hours complicated emotion. -To her amazement, at the end of the second act a note -was handed to her:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“<i>I have just seen your kind face. Will you be a -Friend to me to-night, and come back with me to my -house? If you can do me this favour—my heart tells -me you will—meet me at the stage door after the last act.</i></p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Felicity Falcon.</span>”</p> -</div> - -<p>At any time the adventure was one likely to tempt a -girl of Pamela’s spirit. In present circumstances, wrought -to the highest pitch of excitement and interest by the -emotions of the drama and the personality of the young -play-actress, the invitation came to her as the magic -fulfilment of a dream. Although never had Miss Falcon’s -acting been more poignant, more intense in passion and -tragedy, the milliner could hardly wait for the drop of -the curtain, so eager was she to enter upon what she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span> -could not avoid considering the more thrilling drama -still.</p> - -<p>The crowds that packed the theatre were so immense, -and the determination to recall the favourite so obstinate -and prolonged, that it was after considerable delay that -Pamela found herself at last at the stage door.</p> - -<p>An elegant, sober-looking carriage, with servants in -dark liveries, stood in waiting, and just behind it a -hackney coach.</p> - -<p>Miss Falcon, hooded and cloaked, escorted by a group -of gentlemen, stepped forward and took her hand.</p> - -<p>“I knew you would come,” she whispered. Her -manner was preoccupied. “This is no place for introductions,” -she went on, turning to her escort. “Since -it must be, let us even start.”</p> - -<p>“Sheridan,” said one who walked in advance of the -others, one, indeed, whom the milliner, with a thumping -heart, scarce dared recognise as the heir to the throne, -“you accompany the ladies.”</p> - -<p>The two women drew back while he passed somewhat -unsteadily out of the theatre, and was, with discreet bows, -ushered to his carriage by all the gentlemen of the party, -a single member of which then followed him in. The -carriage, evidently to order, moved a few paces up the -street and again halted, while the hackney was drawn -to the door.</p> - -<p>Mr. Sheridan, followed by the other gentlemen, now -came back. He offered his right arm to Miss Falcon, -and, with some exaggeration of ceremony, which his -companions seemed to find humorous, his left to Miss -Pounce. After he had handed the ladies into the hackney -coach, he paused, laughing at the door.</p> - -<p>“What address shall I say, sweet Falcon?” He -raised his voice, as for the benefit of those behind him. -“Now for the great disclosure!” he cried.</p> - -<p>Fair Fatality had a cold smile. Pamela could see her -face by the light of the links each side of the theatre -portals. It was very pale.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span>“Pray get in, sir,” she said; “the man knows his -way.”</p> - -<p>As they drove off Mr. Sheridan rubbed his hands and -laughed again.</p> - -<p>“To think that I should be sitting <i>vis-à-vis</i> to the -fairest intrigue in all London, and actually be going to -solve the mystery! Though, to be sure, ’tis no mystery -to you, ma’am, I dare swear?”</p> - -<p>He looked tentatively at Pamela through the gloom.</p> - -<p>They were turning out of a by-street into the main -thoroughfare, and Pamela, casting her glance out of the -window, was startled, but scarcely surprised, to see that -the Prince’s carriage was very closely following theirs.</p> - -<p>“Why, Pamela, my girl,” said the milliner to herself, -“little you thought when you set out that you’d perhaps -be supping with Royalty! But there’s one thing clear. -You’ve got to stand by this poor soul to-night.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Sheridan did not seem to relish the idea of conversation -with Miss Falcon’s companion. Pamela, who -from the first had fancied that, though carrying his liquor -with decorum, he was far from sober, was not sorry to see -him fall into a doze. Whether on her side the actress -were asleep or not she could not guess, but she never -moved nor spoke. The drive was long, and Pamela had -lost all her sense of district when the coach was pulled -up at last. But Mr. Sheridan, waking with a start and -looking eagerly about him, cried:</p> - -<p>“Why, this is the King’s Road! I’ll be hanged if -that’s not the lodge of Elm Park House.”</p> - -<p>“This, sir,” said Miss Falcon, “is Mulberry House, -my poor abode, to which you are——” she paused, and -altered her phrase—“where I am this night privileged -to receive you.”</p> - -<p>Pamela understood she would not bid them welcome. -At the same moment the royal carriage halted in its turn; -but Miss Falcon, alighting, did not pause to pay the -respect etiquette demanded. She pushed open the gate, -and went quickly across the flagged courtyard towards<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span> -the little house which stood square and solid, with pedimented -portico, before them.</p> - -<p>As Pamela hurried after she saw that a light shone -through the cracks of the shuttered ground floor windows. -Miss Falcon inserted a key in the lock and opened the -house door. She drew Pamela into an oak-panelled -hall, dimly lit with a couple of candles in a silver candelabra, -and herself stood in the aperture.</p> - -<p>She dropped a profound curtsy as the Prince appeared, -followed by Mr. Sheridan and that other gentleman -whom Pamela supposed to be the equerry-in-waiting.</p> - -<p>“Forgive me, sir,” her voice was low and tired, and -it struck Pamela that something had gone out of it—the -fire and thrill and youthful pathos that had made it every -moment an appeal—“that you should have such a poor -reception. Since I was not prepared for the honour, -since it was your pleasure to surprise me by this favour, -I must beg you to take me as I am. There are no servants -here to-night.”</p> - -<p>She moved backwards as she spoke. Theatrical -training stood her in good stead. The movement was -perfect.</p> - -<p>“Will you condescend to enter? Mr. Sheridan, pray -close the door behind His Highness.”</p> - -<p>She preceded the Prince, still backing easily, to a parlour -on the right of the entrance. It was a small, gay -apartment, panelled in white, with double doors leading -apparently into an inner room. Four candles on the -centre table, burning rather low in their sockets, gave a -fairly sufficient light.</p> - -<p>Pamela, who slipped in, with some timidity, in the -wake of the party, perceived their hostess’s face to be -deathly pale, and hurried to her side.</p> - -<p>Miss Falcon caught her hand with an ice-cold grip.</p> - -<p>It must be confessed that the portly, elderly gentleman, -who once for his charm and youthful grace had been -known as Prince Florizel, looked discomfited to confoundment -by the unexpected strangeness of the situation.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span> -His two companions stared at each other. The sobriety -they all three needed seemed to be returning to them.</p> - -<p>“Will your Highness condescend to take a chair?”</p> - -<p>Still holding the milliner’s warm hand the play-actress -stood erect.</p> - -<p>“Sir, it has been your pleasure to command the -revelation of a secret which concerned only my humble -person. I understand even that you have honoured me -so far as to make my insignificance the object of a wager. -I trust I am too obedient a subject to disobey my future -Sovereign, too loyal not to assist him in the gratification -of his sporting instincts. With the more readiness, -indeed, that at four o’clock this afternoon my reason for -wishing to keep my unimportant identity, my unobtrusive -abode from the knowledge of the world has ceased to -exist——”</p> - -<p>She broke off.</p> - -<p>Not more intently had the mighty audience hung upon -her lips to-night than did now these four, her oddly -entertained guests. Pamela’s heart beat high. She felt -herself as on the very edge of some fathomless chasm of -tragedy.</p> - -<p>“Your Royal Highness,” went on Felicity Falcon, her -sweet voice hoarse, “since it is your pleasure to know it, -my name is Gwenlian Morgan. I am the wife——” A -spasm crossed her face. She caught her breath, and -went on: “I married one Evan Morgan, a Welsh preacher. -Ours has been a great love; but with him God was always -first. He believed he had a call to London. We left the -fair hills and our cottage for these dreadful streets. -He failed. He fell into a decline. We had hardly any -money left. He could work no more, and he would not -take charity. I had to earn for him. How? I had -to earn much and quickly or he would die. There was -only one way, and that way anathema to him. To his -pure and lofty mind the stage was always ruin and -damnation!”</p> - -<p>Again there was a brief silence. The equerry tried<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span> -to whisper to Mr. Sheridan, but that good-hearted -gentleman gave him an angry scowl. The Prince sat -breathing hard, his eyes fixed, his mouth slightly open.</p> - -<p>“There was but one way in which I could earn much -and quickly. I took it. I took it in secret. I began -low. Fortune favoured me. I was noticed behind the -scenes by one whose notice meant advancement. Yes, -sir”—she flashed a dark look at the equerry, who murmured -a name—“my Lord Harborough was a generous -patron; and then all came easy. At home I had but to -lie. Good heavens, how I lied and plotted and contrived -and deceived! But what did anything matter? -There was no crime save unfaithfulness to my Beloved -that I would not have committed for his sake. I told -him I had inherited a fortune. I kept him almost from -the first in comfort. When I was able to hire this house -I told him I had sold out funds to do so. He believed -me. He trusted me. He would as soon have thought of -doubting an angel, as of doubting me. And so I—hoodwinked -him. It was the easier that he had to keep -to his bed. My one servant, his nurse, deaf and silent, -never pried into my comings and goings. She believed, -like him, that they were accounted for by the chapel -meetings and mission-work; by necessary relaxation -and repose. I went in and out of this house at night by -the mews at the back. No one ever saw me enter. I -took care of that. To-day—to-day the doctor came. -He filled me with more hope than ever before. ‘Take -him to Italy,’ he said. ‘And ’twill be a cure!’ With -four thousand pounds in the bank——”</p> - -<p>She stopped so suddenly that Pamela cast an arm -about her, fearing she might fall; but she clasped a -rigid strength. Mr. Sheridan raised his quizzing glass -to stare at the actress’s countenance; into her pale -cheeks a fierce colour had risen. She was amazingly -beautiful.</p> - -<p>“And so, my dear Miss Falcon—my dear Mrs. Morgan,” -he cried curiously, “you took the favourable moment of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span> -confessing your subterfuge, your heroic subterfuge, to -your pious husband! How did he bear it? A Welshman -and a chapel man! I trust it was not a shock.”</p> - -<p>Her eyes turned upon him as if she were bereft of the -power of understanding.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Sheridan means, ma’am,” cried the equerry -impatiently, “how did the good preacher bear the awful -revelation? Did you not yourself say that at four -o’clock—four, wasn’t it, Sherry?—the great Falcon -mystery ceased to exist.”</p> - -<p>“You are right, sir,” said Fair Fatality. “When I -returned from rehearsal this afternoon I found—I saw—I -knew—there was no secret between us any more! -You want to know so much about me, all of you.” Her -voice rose suddenly and piercingly. “Your curiosity -shall be gratified to the end.”</p> - -<p>She moved away from Pamela with a steady step, -flung open the folding doors, and pointed into the room -revealed with a single magnificent gesture.</p> - -<p>Grasping the elbows of his chair, fuddled, inquisitive, -the Prince of Wales lifted himself to stare. Mr. Sheridan -took two strides and brought himself up with an -ejaculation. And “Damn me!” cried the equerry, in -accents of anger and fear. “This is a dashed low -trick!”</p> - -<p>There was no need for anyone to cast a second glance -into that room. The lights and the flowers, the rigid -figure on the bed, covered with a white sheet, told their -own story. The genial party were looking upon death.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you poor creature! You poor, unhappy dear!” -cried Pamela Pounce, bursting into hot tears, and catching -the Falcon to her heart.</p> - -<p>The preacher’s wife abandoned herself to the embrace; -but only for the span of a moment, not for the relief of -tears, not for the comfort of another woman’s tenderness, -but because, just for that little while, every power -fell into suspense. When she disengaged herself they -were alone with the dead. Royalty and its boon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span> -companions had seized the opportunity to retire from a -scene so discomforting.</p> - -<p>Felicity turned an abstracted gaze into the dining-room; -it was clear to Pamela that her visitors, Royalty -and all, were of less consequence in her mind than the -stray moth that fluttered round the candles.</p> - -<p>“Will you look at him?” said the widow.</p> - -<p>Pamela wished that she would cry or swoon. This -composure was terrible. Sobbing herself, she was drawn -to the bedside, and, as Felicity lifted the sheet, gazed -down upon the quiet, beautiful face. The play-actress -bent and kissed the young forehead set in such majestic -peace, and replaced the coverlet, re-arranging the white -roses after she had done so. Then once more she took -her companion by the arm, led her back into the dining-room, -and closed the folding doors.</p> - -<p>“Now you must drink a glass of wine with me,” she -said, “before you go.”</p> - -<p>“But I will stay with you.”</p> - -<p>“No. No. The coach is waiting for you. The driver -will take you safe back. I prefer to be alone.”</p> - -<p>She went to a cupboard and drew out a decanter and -a couple of glasses, and while Pamela sat and mopped -her eyes with a drenched handkerchief, and bit her lip to -keep down the rising sob, and chid herself for a poor, -vaporous wretch no use to anyone, the woman who had -lost her all poured out the wine with a steady hand; and -with a steady hand did something else besides.</p> - -<p>She brought the glasses to the table, gave one to -Pamela, and stood watching her while she drank.</p> - -<p>Then she sat down beside her, and, still holding her -own full glass between taper fingers, leant across and said:</p> - -<p>“Kiss me, my dear, and thank you. When I went -back to him after the rehearsal to-day, so full of joy, the -woman said he was asleep, and I bent to kiss him, and, -oh, his lips were cold! His lips were cold! Yours are -warm. I wish I’d known you before. We should have -been friends. Nay, ’tis as well! I might have brought<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span> -misfortune to you as to the others. ’Tis better as it is,” -she repeated rather wildly.</p> - -<p>And when sobbing that her own story was told and -that she knew too what a broken heart meant, Pamela -would have kissed her again, Felicity pushed her from -her, and drank quickly.</p> - -<p>In the silence that followed, Pamela drew herself -physically and mentally together, twisted her handkerchief, -patted her curls, wiped her eyes a last time, -then, in the tone of one firmly determined on the right -course of action:</p> - -<p>“The coach may go, I’ll not leave you!” she cried.</p> - -<p>She broke off. Was it the scent of the flowers from -the death-chamber, or some curious flavour in the wine? -She was all at once aware of a singular, intense smell of -almonds in the air.</p> - -<p>“Miss Falcon, Mrs. Morgan, my dear! Oh, you’re -faint, you’re ill, and no wonder!”</p> - -<p>She clutched the sinking figure, but Fair Fatality had -acted her last tragedy.</p> - -<p>Pamela Pounce never wore the Medusa ring. She -dared not; but she kept it all her life.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XI</h2> - -<p class="ph1"><span class="smcap">In Which There is a Prodigious Scandal About<br> -Pink Flounces</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">None</span> ever knew the share which Pamela had taken in -Felicity Falcon’s last night on earth.</p> - -<p>She had laid the slender figure as decently and respectfully -as she could, on a couch, kissed the cold cheek once -more, and walked out of the house.</p> - -<p>Those who would find her in the morning must make -what they could of the story. Pamela had her own life -and those dependent on her to consider. She could not -afford to be mixed up with a scandal.</p> - -<p>Whether the chapel people to whose ranks the young -preacher had belonged, were desirous of hushing up the -evidence which might bring discredit upon them, or -whether it were really believed that Mrs. Morgan had -died of a heart-stroke brought on by grief did not transpire. -They were buried together and given a very -pious funeral with much preaching and psalm-singing.</p> - -<p>The event made a profound impression upon Pamela; -it revived the cruel emotions of her recent personal -experience.</p> - -<p>She had seen what love meant as never before; she -understood its fearful supremacy, and how little anything -else mattered beside it in life. There were times -when she even envied Felicity Falcon; true, she had -loved to desperation and death, but she had loved and -been loved with a noble purity and faithfulness!</p> - -<p>The memory of the young Welsh preacher’s dead face, -radiantly innocent, and of the triumph, set in agony, of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span> -the actress’s countenance as she had last seen it, haunted -her continually. Death had stamped on their mortal -love the seal of eternity.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs had lain in wait, the whole warm -June sunset hour, till Miss Pounce should emerge from -the side-door of the shut-up shop; he followed the erect, -briskly walking figure with due discretion, and only -permitted himself to catch her up at the corner of Berkeley -Square. Then he accosted her.</p> - -<p>“Don’t, I do beseech you,” he cried, quickly forestalling -the fierce repudiation in her eye, “don’t refuse -to listen! I have not come after you to insult you, I -haven’t, upon my honour! Pamela, I want to apologise. -I want to ask your pardon.”</p> - -<p>His tone was so imploring and respectful, he looked -so eager, so gallant and handsome too, in the rosy amber -light, as he bent towards her, bare-headed, that her -weapon of pride seemed broken in her hand.</p> - -<p>She tried to say with dignity: “There’s nothing more -that I ever wish to hear from you, Mr. Bellairs,” but -her voice faltered, and a sudden tear in each eye betrayed -her.</p> - -<p>“See,” he went on eagerly. “The gate of the garden -there is open. Let us go in, and sit on that bench. Just -for a little while! Five minutes! One minute!”</p> - -<p>Pamela, shaking her head, and exclaiming: “No, sir. -Nay, Mr. Bellairs, I cannot listen, ’tis impossible! ’Tis -wrong! ’Tis folly!” nevertheless allowed herself to be -drawn into the cool green tree-shadowed spot, and -actually sat down on the suggested seat.</p> - -<p>He did not as much as offer her his hand; yet his -urgency drove her almost with a physical force.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Pamela,” he cried, letting himself fall beside -her, and clasping his hands and wringing them, “can -you conceive what I felt when I heard that ’twas you—you!—oh, -my generous girl—who paid my debt? And<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span> -to think how the first use I made of my liberty was to -offend you so grossly.”</p> - -<p>Pamela swallowed a sob.</p> - -<p>“’Tis over and done with now, Mr. Bellairs. Let me -forget.”</p> - -<p>She tried to rise, but he caught a fold of her dress.</p> - -<p>“One moment more, if you have a woman’s heart. -Nay, you see how anxious I am not to presume. I will -go on my knees if you like. Oh, Pamela, when I went -to pay back my Lord his ninety-seven pound ten, out of -that pocketful of money you know of, and he stared at -me, and: ‘Why, man,’ says he, ‘I never thought to see -you this morning! Her Ladyship was in one of her bad -ways, and sure, if it was I had been in the sponging -house, she’d not have out with a farthing! I’ve been -but waiting for a better moment,’ says he. ‘Then who, -in the name o’ God?’ cries I, cutting him short. Pamela, -I lost no time in making my <i>congé</i> to my Lord, and I -ran all the way to that fellow Jobbins—I promise you! -‘For I’ll get to the bottom of this,’ I cried. ‘And ’twas -a lady veiled,’ quoth he, and stuck to it, and the fool -that I am, must needs think my cousin Kitty was playing -a sort of game with me; ashamed not to pay for me, but, -the stingy thing! mortal afraid lest I should ask her -again! And I went back again to Hertford Street to -make a further exhibition of myself.”</p> - -<p>Here Pamela could not keep from laughter.</p> - -<p>“You laugh! ’Tis all I deserve. Indeed, ’twas -a monstrous absurd scene. But my Lady pretty soon -convinced me that the magnanimity I ascribed to her -was unknown to that bit of strass she calls her heart. -By the Lord, I think I was mad that morning altogether! -I hardly know how I got out of Hertford Street once -more, and all the way down to Jobbins, for the thought -had dawned! I’ve not so many friends, you see, Pamela! -‘A tall, fine figure of a lady,’ says he, ‘stepping as clean -as your own sorrel filly, Mr. Jocelyn. And I caught,’ -says he, ‘a gleam of hair under the veil—now, if you’ll<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span> -run your eye down the row in there,’ says he, jerking his -thumb towards his stables, ‘you’ll see, third from the -door, a bit of a gloss on a hack’s back that’s just the same -colour.’ And so I knew,” added Jocelyn, with a sudden -drop from his tone of mimicry, into accents of real -emotion.</p> - -<p>Pamela set her teeth upon her trembling lip. She -made a desperate effort after her usual fine air of independence.</p> - -<p>“’Twas when we were friends, I’ll have you remember, -Mr. Bellairs,” she said, with a toss of her -head.</p> - -<p>“Ah, but Pamela, let us be friends now,” he spoke with -a boyish earnestness which made him infinitely more -attractive than in his most dashing mood of sparkishness. -“’Tis just for that I have sought you. I want your -forgiveness. I want your friendship. Let me see you -sometimes, as a friend, a most respectful friend, honoured -by your acquaintance. I am a wretched, worthless -fellow,” he went on, with a kind of bitter humility. -“I can’t even pay you back your loan, now, Pamela. -But grant me a chance. Let me show myself better than -you have known me. ’Pon honour, it would give me -something to hope for, just to think you’d let me see you -now and again, in a kindly way; that you had not cast -me altogether out of your life.”</p> - -<p>It was the acknowledgment that he couldn’t pay her -back that softened Miss Pounce’s obduracy towards -him. She consented to forgive him, to consider him as -a friend, even to admit the possibility that if they met—oh, -quite accidentally!—on an off-day, she mightn’t -refuse to take a stroll with him in the Green Park.</p> - -<p>It would seem as if nothing had changed; as if she -was the same too-trusting, foolish girl, and he the same -sly, audacious villain; yet, as she determinedly parted -from him and hurried out of the garden to her lodging, -she knew that there had come a profound alteration into -their relations.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span>Meanwhile the enmity excited in the bosoms of Miss -Smithson and Miss Popple against the successful -milliner was far from abating. Indeed, the mature -young lady who had hoped for Pamela Pounce’s present -position had an ever-gathering sense of grievance. What -if she had a heavy hand? Were there not solid dowagers -and others who preferred substance and money’s worth -to your fly-away gossamer nothings?</p> - -<p>Between these two important members of Madame -Mirabel’s establishment, there had come to be a tacit -understanding—though they were far too genteel and -high-minded to indulge in anything like a conspiracy—that -it was their bounden duty, in dear Madame Mirabel’s -interests, to keep a sharp look-out on Miss Pounce, and -report any proceeding of hers calculated to injure them.</p> - -<p>“As, of course, my dear, poor Anna-Maria,” Clara -Smithson would declare of her rich business relative, -“is that good-natured that times and times I’ve had to -step in, as it were, and save her from herself.”</p> - -<p>Miss Popple was too tactful to request specification.</p> - -<p>“La, you never say, dear!” she would exclaim, with -unflagging emphasis. “And what a good thing it is -that she’s got you, the poor kind creature! ’Tis what -we all feel.”</p> - -<p>The while her private thoughts would run contemptuously:</p> - -<p>“As if every one didn’t know, you long-toothed old -frump, that ’tis you Madame keeps on out of charity, and -has the books regular checked by a spry young gentleman -from the bank every Saturday night, private, or they’d -be in the muddle of the world before the month was -out!”</p> - -<p>Miss Clara Smithson’s secret opinion of Miss Popple -was probably no more complimentary, but it is in the -nature of things that worthy individuals, working for a -common cause, should sink personal feelings; and, -therefore, when Miss Smithson made the appalling discovery -in connection with the pink-flounced muslin of a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span> -Sunday afternoon, it was Miss Popple to whom she confided -it the first thing on Monday morning.</p> - -<p>That Sunday afternoon being a remarkably fine day, -Miss Smithson had accepted the offer of the married -nephew in the Tobacco Trade, who was particularly -civil to her in view of her reported savings, to drive with -him in a hackney as far as Richmond Park, and partake -of a choice refection of ale and winkles by the river-side. -Now, as the hackney was rolling along the highway -towards Richmond, they passed a cottage on the outskirts -of the town, a quite superior cottage residence -with an embowered garden, honeysuckle and roses. In -this garden, upon a rustic chair, a young woman was -seated with a child upon her lap. She wore a conspicuous -dress of pink muslin. Her head, which was bent -over the child, was bare, unpowdered, and clothed with -a profusion of bright chestnut tresses. The child’s face, -Miss Smithson was able to observe, was very dark, almost -foreign-looking, and its little curly pate, coppery-red.</p> - -<p>There was something familiar in the attitude of the -young person in the flaring frock, and Miss Smithson, -who was not a rapid thinker, puzzled over it most of the -afternoon. Towards the end of her last glass of ale, -neglecting the tempting offer of a final winkle which -the devoted nephew was extending to her on his tie-pin, -she clapped her hands and cried:</p> - -<p>“I have it!”</p> - -<p>Being asked to explain this strange diversion from the -business of the hour, she declined, and it was only into the -sympathetic bosom of Miss Popple that she now unfolded -her theories.</p> - -<p>“Pamela Pounce it was, my dear, as I’m a living -sinner! There’s not another head like that on the town, -I’ll swear! And a little black child on her lap, as bold -as brass! Miss is so fashionable, too, as we all know. -Foh, the hussy! It really,” said the virtuous Miss -Smithson, “makes me shudder!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span>And shudder she did, till Miss Popple thought she -heard her bones rattle.</p> - -<p>“I always said,” said Polly Popple, “that there was -something mysterious about that young woman’s private -life. Dark, did you say, dear? We all know the complexion -of the young gentleman that used to come here -after Miss Pounce. And she’s been seen with him in the -Green Park again, most audacious of late. And what’s -to be done now,” she cried in a virtuous passion, “to get -her out of the house, and not have her contaminating -us respectable females? Let’s to Madame Mirabel this -moment!”</p> - -<p>“Beware how you do such a thing!” exclaimed Miss -Smithson, horror-struck. “Tut, Polly! We’ve got to -get things a vast more circumspect before we take such -precipitous action. The first thing to find out is whether -Miss Pounce has a gown of that impudent colour.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll ask her this minute!” exclaimed Popple, springing -up from the little horsehair chair and making for the door.</p> - -<p>“And if we do bring it home to her, Polly,” pursued -Miss Smithson, clutching her friend’s fat wrist, “far be -it from me to be hard on a fellow-creature, however -perverted and brazen. I’d rather put the matter before -Miss Pounce herself—ay, and before that good creature, -her aunt, my Lady Kilcroney’s woman, who’s had a -mort of trouble with her already—and get the abandoned -gal to send in her resignation, rather than upset my -cousin! Anna-Maria has a weak heart.”</p> - -<p>Polly Popple pondered. Both prudent virgins exchanged -a look. It dawned upon these sensitive -consciences that Madame Mirabel might not be of their way -of thinking; might, in fine, be disposed to put modes -before morals, especially as custom was increasing every -day and the fame of Pounce millinery spreading far and -wide.</p> - -<p>“Maybe you’re right,” said Polly thoughtfully. -“Well, I’ll be back as soon as I can, dear, and let you -know what I’ve drawn out of her.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span>The showroom was empty of custom, the hour being -still early, and Pamela, singing a little song under her -breath, was engaged, with the bright energy which -characterised her, in superintending the disposal of the -wares. She had fanciful schemes of colour differing -with each day, and subtly suited to the mood most -likely to be engendered by the weather. Thus, on a -cold, bleak autumn afternoon you might find a flamingo -flame of feather calling you through the glass; and on a -torrid July morning such as the present, the coolest and -most ethereal creams and greys; or a rustic straw with -a wreath of moon daisies that would set you dreaming of -the country. Even such a creation was Miss Pounce now -holding in her hand when, rather out of breath—for she -was of a stout habit and a congested type of comeliness—Polly -Popple came heavily up to her.</p> - -<p>“And pray, Miss Pounce,” said the assistant, while, -at the abruptness of the address, unpreceded by the -usual “Good morning,” all the young ladies turned to -stare—“pray, Miss Pounce, was you by any chance -Richmond way yesterday?”</p> - -<p>Polly was no diplomatist.</p> - -<p>“And what’s that to you, Miss Popple?” responded -Pamela. “As a matter of fact, I was; but ’tain’t none -of your business, as I’m aware! Girls, what are you -doing?”</p> - -<p>Pamela scented mischief, and resented the tone of the -question, which rang in unmistakable challenge. Nevertheless, -she remained good-humoured.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps,” said the other darkly, “’tis more my -business than you think of. Might I further inquire if -you was wearing a pink gown, miss?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Popple, I was. A pink gown, flounced to the -waist, muslin. A sweet thing it is, and suits me uncommon. -Perhaps you’d like to know if I wear a white -<i>bouffand</i> to it, and the style of hat?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, never mind the hat, Miss Pounce! Since you -are so obleeging as to permit me another question, might<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span> -I ask if you was a-setting in a garden a-holding of a child -upon your lap?”</p> - -<p>The colour flew like a flag to the head milliner’s cheek -and fire to her eye. Then she abruptly turned her back -upon the questioner, and the youngest assistant, who -happened to be taking a hat out of a drawer, was surprised -to see that she was struggling with a violent inclination -to laugh.</p> - -<p>“Ho!”</p> - -<p>The ejaculation leaped with a world of horror from -Polly’s lips.</p> - -<p>Her superior wheeled back upon her.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Miss Popple, I was sitting in a garden, and very -pleasant it was among the roses; and I had a child upon -my lap, the dearest, sweetest little creature that ever -breathed, a perfect cherub! A girl, if you want to know, -Miss Popple, and though dark, like to be a beauty.”</p> - -<p>The young ladies tittered, though there were looks -interchanged, too. And Pamela’s tone, tripped up with -subterranean mirth, sounded to some of them rather -hysterical.</p> - -<p>Polly, after a dumb show of wounded female delicacy, -expressively rendered, tottered from the room as if her -legs could scarce carry so much horrified rectitude; and -the incident apparently dropped. Indeed, Pamela regarded -it merely as another of Popple’s nasty bits of -spleen. A low-minded, common creature! As if her -girls would be taken in by such vile suggestions! As -if the life of Pamela Pounce, head milliner, was not as -fresh and fair as her own face!</p> - -<p>An episode which Pamela could not but consider as -curious in the circumstances presently occurred and drove -the very existence of Popple from her mind.</p> - -<p>A carriage drew up to the door, early as it was—ten -o’clock had not yet struck—and a customer entered, a -short, dark young woman of a marked type of Spanish -beauty, who walked with a bold cadence of the hips that -set her maize silk panniers swinging, and a carriage of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span> -the head that you might call like that of a fawn, or of a -serpent, as your feelings towards her prompted.</p> - -<p>Pamela advanced in her most engaging manner.</p> - -<p>“What can I do for you, madam?” She broke off. -“Merciful heavens!” something within her cried. “I -should know that face.”</p> - -<p>The newcomer fixed her with beautiful, insolent eyes. -There was a gleam of rubies in each delicate ear, and at -the dusky round throat a red fire that came and went -from a monstrous clasp of the same stones, half-hidden -by laces.</p> - -<p>“If you will show me a hat, all black, with black -feathers,” began the lady. She had a slow voice, rich -like cream, and an odd guttural aspiration of the consonants. -“Something with the Spanish air.”</p> - -<p>In her turn, she stopped short. The milliner had -fallen back a pace, and was looking at her with horror.</p> - -<p>“I think,” said Pamela, very low but very distinctly, -“that you have entered this establishment by mistake.”</p> - -<p>The foreign lady wheeled upon her. There was no -doubt about it, with all her beauty she was viperish.</p> - -<p>“Fool, my name is the Countess Sanquhar!”</p> - -<p>“And a very fit name for you, too!” responded -Pamela.</p> - -<p>Upon which extraordinary observation she herself -opened the door and stood until the visitor passed -out.</p> - -<p>You may be a beauty, and you may be the lawful wife -of an English peer, but it is difficult to keep your dignity -when you are turned out of a shop by a miserable working-woman -as if you were the last of the last. Only by -doing murder on her offender could the notorious Lady -Sanquhar, who had been once the respected wife of an -honest Spanish merchant, have redeemed the situation -from utter ignominy. But as she could not do murder -in actual fact, she only did it with her eyes, as, swaying -more than ever, she went forth.</p> - -<p>Pamela shut the door; the four assistants stared at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span> -her with one accord. They had not known such an -exciting morning for a long time.</p> - -<p>“Upon my word, Miss Pounce,” said Polly Popple, -“you take a deal upon yourself, you do.”</p> - -<p>Pamela sat down, rather white about the lips, breathing -quickly through dilated nostrils.</p> - -<p>“If it had got known that I’d sold as much as a feather -to that creature,” she said, “Madame Mirabel might as -well put up her shutters, for there’s not a lady of quality -would have crossed the threshold of her showroom again.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XII</h2> - -<p class="ph1"><span class="smcap">In which my Lady Kilcroney Insists on the Duty<br> -of Morality.</span></p> -</div> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">If</span> you please, my Lady, might I speak to your Ladyship?”</p> - -<p>My Lady Kilcroney looked up from the sorrows of -Miss Clarissa Harlowe, which she was particularly enjoying, -and gazed at her handmaiden.</p> - -<p>Lydia Pounce and her mistress had gone through, -together, so many emotions, intrigues, quarrels, reconciliations, -triumphs, and despairs that it was scarcely -too much to say they had become indispensable to each -other. Therefore, too, both had grown to read each -other’s countenances with the utmost facility. Now, -Lydia was pale and pinched; her knobby little hands -were clasping each other fiercely across her neat waistband; -she was visibly trembling. Lady Kilcroney -knew these symptoms.</p> - -<p>“What is to do, Lydia?”</p> - -<p>“Ho, my Lady!”</p> - -<p>The Abigail here clutched at her heart and turned up -her eyes.</p> - -<p>“Dear me, Lydia,” said her Ladyship, tartly, “have -they ventured to laugh again in the pantry as you happened -to be passing, or has anyone broken into the safe -and stolen my diamonds?”</p> - -<p>“Ho, your Ladyship, you may well ask. Heaven -knows I’m prepared from this out to be the laughing-stock -of this house. Everyone may point the finger of scorn -at me. The name of Pounce is for ever blasted! As<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span> -for thieves, my Lady, there are worse thieves than will -ever be hanged walking about this moment, and treasures -stolen of value far above diamonds!”</p> - -<p>“Dear me!”</p> - -<p>“Her Ladyship wouldn’t be so easy with her ‘dear -me’s’ if she knew what’s happened. ’Tis gospel truth, -my Lady, and I’m telling no falsehood, that the thought -of having to inform your Ladyship is the bitterest part -of the sorrow that has come upon me this day!”</p> - -<p>Kitty Kilcroney put down her book. Seeing that her -maid’s eyes were genuinely tear-stained, and that the -convulsive shiverings were not all assumed, she began -to feel concern.</p> - -<p>“Dear me!” she said again, in quite another tone. -“I trust nothing has happened to your family—your -good brother, or any of the children?”</p> - -<p>She broke off. Lydia, who was making the most -dreadful grimaces, here flung her little muslin apron over -her head and sobbed behind it.</p> - -<p>“It’ll break my brother’s heart, him so respected on -his own property, as old in the name as gentry, yeomen -these hundreds of years, and only for bad times none of -them ever looking to service. And ho! my Lady, him -setting such store by that girl, and me so proud of her!”</p> - -<p>“That girl! You don’t mean Pamela?”</p> - -<p>Lydia dropped the apron.</p> - -<p>“I do. The horrid, wicked creature. And ho, my -Lady, it all comes of encouraging idle young gentlemen -and paying their debts for them, and letting them off -going to India, and if the name of Pounce is blasted, the -name of Bellairs ain’t much better, and so I tell you, -fair and square, my Lady!”</p> - -<p>“Good heavens!” said my Lady Kilcroney, whisking -round so sharply on the sofa that Clarissa fell in one -direction, and my Lady’s cushions, fan, and pocket -handkerchief in the other. “Never tell me that that -silly young man is—has been—can be——”</p> - -<p>“He was, he is, and as to can be, your Ladyship knows<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span> -yourself what young gentlemen are! Oh, to think of -its going on so long, though indeed, I might ha’ known! -Haven’t I seen them walking together on a Sunday afternoon, -times and again, and it’s all head toss and ‘How -dare you, aunt?’ if so much as a word of warning is -given!”</p> - -<p>“Jocelyn Bellairs! But what has been discovered? -What proof have you?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, la!” The fire of excitement was drying up the -elder Miss Pounce’s tears. “’Tis all over Mirabel’s already. -Proof, my Lady? Wasn’t the unfortunate girl seen -sitting in a garden last Sunday in a secret cottage, with a -dark baby on her lap? <i>A dark baby, my Lady!</i> And -think of Mr. Bellairs, as black as my shoe! And her, as -Miss Smithson—that’s the book-keeper, my Lady—who -has just left me, said to me, as bold as brass, all in the -sunshine. And she ain’t denied nothing, neither.”</p> - -<p>“Who? Pamela?”</p> - -<p>Kitty was falling from amazement to amazement. She -had seen a vast deal, one way and another, of Madame -Mirabel’s milliner, and if ever there was, in her opinion, -an honest, sensible, good-living young woman, it was -Pamela Pounce.</p> - -<p>“She don’t deny it. Miss Popple up and taxed her -straight out, and she as good as admitted it. Not a bit -ashamed, either.”</p> - -<p>“Foh!” my Lady fumed. “Surely you’re not -going to condemn your own flesh and blood on hearsay, -woman?”</p> - -<p>“My Lady,” Lydia began to pant, as if she suddenly -remembered how hard she had been running. “I’m -back from Madame Mirabel’s this moment, and seen -Pamela, and oh, the audacity of her! Laughing in my -face, and tossing her head! ‘And ’tis true,’ cries she, -‘the little rogue is dark. And if I prefer ’em dark,’ says -she, ‘what then?’”</p> - -<p>“‘Ho, Miss,’ says I, ‘your taste lies in the dark line,’ -says I. ‘That’s no surprise to me you bold hussy!’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span> -And then, my Lady, you’ll never believe it, she regular -insulted me.</p> - -<p>“‘Well,’ she says, ‘and if I do prefer a dark gentleman, -ain’t a body free to have their fancy? There’s you,’ she -says, ‘as likes them fat and cat-footed, with a wheeze and -a paunch,’ referring, my Lady, to the attentions Mr. -Blandfoot is paying me. And then I answers her back:</p> - -<p>“‘I’m sure, you wicked girl, if Mr. Blandfoot and I ever -agree to settle, it’ll be as man and wife, respectable <i>and</i> -respected.’”</p> - -<p>“‘Why, lud, aunt,’ she says, ‘you have a nasty mind.’ -And more than that, my Lady, I couldn’t get out of her, -it being her busy time. And—oh, dear, to be sure!—was -there ever such a desperate bit of work? Her getting -on so well, fought over by the ladies, I may say!”</p> - -<p>Lady Kilcroney allowed the lamentations to continue -without interruption for some time, her own thoughts -being concentrated on the painful problem. The more -she reflected upon it, the more, alas! she began to believe -in the story.</p> - -<p>Old Bellairs’s nephew was a sad dog—a handsome, -plausible, dashing, insidious rascal—she knew that. And -that he had pursued Pamela with his attentions, she was -also aware. The girl’s attitude of defiance could hardly -go with innocence, and there was that strange story about -the debt. Now, Kitty liked Pamela, and she had a -certain sympathy, too, with a spirit that refused to -humiliate itself on a question of private conduct.</p> - -<p>“I trust no one has ever been able to say of me that I -am otherwise than strictly virtuous,” she thought, “but -I can’t abide these prying prudes that think ’tis their -business to show up any poor child that’s made a slip -in her time.”</p> - -<p>“And, ho, my Lady,” concluded Lydia, “they’ve kept -it from Madame Mirabel, on condition that my niece -resigns her situation.”</p> - -<p>“Now, look here, Lydia, stop sniffing. If ’tis my poor -dear Bellairs’s nephew that wronged the girl, I’ll see that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span> -he makes reparation. He shall marry her. Leave it to -me. Leave it to me, I say! I’ll have the truth out of -them both, and then I’ll join their hands, I swear it, -before I’m two days older!”</p> - -<p>Kitty was one of those whose plans are swiftly conceived -and whose impatient spirit will not brook an instant’s -delay in their execution. She sat down that very moment -to write to her graceless relative.</p> - -<p>“He must not guess,” she thought, as her quill ran -with little squeaks and pauses—“he must not guess that -he is to be brought to book, or my young gentleman will -have a thousand good reasons for declining to present -himself.”</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“<i>Dear Nephew Jocelyn</i>,” wrote she, very silkily—“<i>Pray -come and visit me this next Thursday afternoon -at three of the clock. It is a long time since we have met, -and there is a little matter——</i>”</p> -</div> - -<p>Here Kitty stopped and nibbled at her pen. How -could she bait the trap so that the fox should fall into it?</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“<i>a little matter which I wish to discuss with you. I -think when you hear what it is, you will agree ’twas worth -wasting half an hour on your attached aunt-in-law</i>,</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Kitty Kilcroney</span>.”</p> -</div> - -<p>Kitty shook the pounce-box over the sheet, folded, -superscribed, and affixed with a pat a knowing little wafer -which bore the semblance of a rose with the touching -motto: “Sweet unto death.”</p> - -<p>Then, popping her round chin on her clasped hands, -she gave herself to reflection, quite a minute’s reflection.</p> - -<p>“If you want a thing well done, do it yourself. There -never was a sounder saw. I’ll not trust Lydia.”</p> - -<p>My Lady took up her pen again.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“<i>My good Pounce</i>”—thus ran the quill—“<i>Pray -present yourself here on Thursday at three o’clock, bringing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span> -the dark baby about which there’s such a to-do. I think I -have proved myself a friend to you; do you prove that you -recognise it by falling in with my desire.</i></p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">K. Kilcroney</span>.</p> - -<p>“<i>P.S.—I was never more anxious to act well by you -than in this instance.</i>”</p> -</div> - -<p>Having despatched these missives, my Lady kept her -counsel; and when the answers came—Mr. Bellairs’s -reply accepting rather effusively, with indeed, as his -benefactress felt, not without some malice, a lively sense -of favours to come; and Pamela’s in four respectful lines -couched in the best millinery phraseology—the plotter -locked them into her bureau, and forbade Lydia to mention -the subject to her again, if she valued her situation.</p> - -<p>On the Thursday afternoon fixed for the meeting my -Lady Kilcroney thoroughly prepared to enjoy herself. -There was nothing she more relished than the ruling of a -difficult situation. She had no qualms as to the extent -of her genius; she had no inconvenient scruples as to her -wisdom.</p> - -<p>The nephew of her late poor Bellairs had, it seemed, -wronged the young person in whom she took an interest. -He should be made to right that wrong, or her name was -not Kitty Kilcroney.</p> - -<p>When the hour approached she clothed herself in -garments subtly adapted to her role, rich in texture, yet -grave in hue; a mulberry satin, to be precise, brocaded -with amber roses. Her toilet accomplished, she flung a -satisfied look into her mirror. ’Twas a bit heavy for a -summer’s day, but really, with the old deep-hued lace -at throat and elbows, mightily becoming.</p> - -<p>Then she wheeled upon her maid.</p> - -<p>“Now, Lydia,” ordered she, “you are not to show -your nose till I bid you. I’ll not have you poking it into -my arrangements. It’s a deal too sharp and fond of -prying, as it is. Ay, I do expect your niece and Mr. -Jocelyn Bellairs. And, no, I haven’t told you anything<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span> -about it. I’m to manage this business or I wash my -hands of it. If you goggle your eyes any more, Lydia, -they will drop out! Nay, I will not permit you a word -with Pamela. Nay, not so much as a look at her. You -will keep to your premises till I ring my bell.”</p> - -<p>Lydia tossed her head a good deal, and was sure she was -very grateful to her Ladyship. And no one could accuse -her of wanting to interfere, Heaven knew! And, as for -looking at that creature’s bold face again till she was an -honest woman, it was enough for her the last time. -Heaven was her witness that she’d had a queasiness at -the pit of the stomach ever since!</p> - -<p>Having issued her instructions, Kitty sailed downstairs, -turned the astonished Kilcroney out of his library, which -had, she considered, a more judicial appearance than the -gold-and-white drawing-room, ordered my Lord, in the -determined tone which he never resisted, to his club till -dinner-time; rang for a couple of footmen to remove my -Lord’s tankard, pipe and other witnesses of loose living -from the premises, and sat herself down in a large leather -arm-chair to await the sinners.</p> - -<p>Three had not yet struck from the grandfather clock in -the corner when Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs was announced. -He entered with rather less of the conquering air than was -his wont. No doubt a very handsome youth, and vastly -improved in manners, thought Kitty, noting the exact -depth of his bow and the decorous air of homage with -which he kissed her extended hand. Attired, too, with -a quiet elegance, which, considering that the hand he -saluted was the one which had frequently paid his tailor, -was, my Lady considered, well chosen.</p> - -<p>“Pray sit down, Nephew Jocelyn. I am glad to see you.”</p> - -<p>When she had resumed her position in the seat of -justice, and he had deferentially placed himself in a high-backed -chair—a little too near her, she thought, for -proper respect, but some slight familiarity might be -pardoned to a relative—he looked at her interrogatively, -and there ensued a silence.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span>It was not Kitty’s policy to put him at his ease by -small talk; rather, indeed, through a certain measured -severity, to awaken stirs of conscience. And as now his -fine brown orbs took the inward roll which she knew -betokened self-searching, she kept an immovable countenance, -looking down at her brocade lap and smoothing -a fold here and there with delicate, be-ringed fingers. -She had considerable knowledge of the world, this spoilt, -pretty child of fortune!</p> - -<p>“I’ll wager,” thought she, “he’s counting up his debts, -and wondering which I’ve heard of, and never giving a -thought to his horrid immorality.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Bellairs cleared his throat, glanced uneasily at his -hostess, began a sentence on the subject of the weather, -broke off in the middle and said, with a plunge:</p> - -<p>“Here I am, then, Aunt Kilcroney, agreeable to your -command!”</p> - -<p>“And, indeed, ’tis no less than your duty, I should -think. ’Tis a vast of time, sir, since you have done me -the honour to call upon me. Yet I think each quarter -day brings you the wherewithal to remember me by, -to say the least of it.”</p> - -<p>He looked at her with an expression in which relief and -disappointment struggled. Was it only to keep him to -heel, like a well-trained dog, that she had sent for him? -Was there nothing but huffiness at his lack of assiduity to -account for her air of disapproval, or had she heard of that -little bill to which my Lord Kilcroney had so good-naturedly -set his name? Or of that ruffling night at the -Cocoa Tree when he had lost four hundred pounds to my -Lord Sanquhar, and thereafter raised the money to settle -it with Mr. Aaron, on my lady’s own banker’s order to -himself? A transaction which might have been ruin -indeed if the most generous girl in all the world had not -got him out of the sponging house in time. Here his -cogitations came to an abrupt end, and the very person -in his thoughts stood in the doorway.</p> - -<p>He got up, all amazement, as my lady too, majestically<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span> -rose. What in the name of Heaven brought Pamela -Pounce hither, and why, by all that was crazy, was she -carrying a little dark child in her arms?</p> - -<p>The young man flushed, bit his lip, and trembled with a -sudden fury. By Heaven, if Pamela had gone behind his -back to tattle to my Lady, he would—yes, dash it, he would -pay her back and never speak to the chit again!</p> - -<p>“Is this the child?” said Kitty, with a bell-like tone -of melancholy.</p> - -<p>Pamela curtsied with great deliberation for all reply, -and, at a wave of Kitty’s hand, gracefully sat down, -settling her pretty burthen in her lap.</p> - -<p>It was a little girl, beautiful in a dark way, with devouring -brown eyes. She was exquisitely dressed in a lawn -frock, with insertion and mignonette trimming. The -Princess Amelia could not have been finer clad, thought -Kitty, and as Pamela took off the straw hat with the -ostrich feathers and revealed an ordered tangle of copper -curls, which would one day be night-black, threaded -through with a faint blue ribbon, my lady could hardly -restrain a cry of admiration.</p> - -<p>Kitty stood and looked at Mr. Bellairs. He was in the -throes of undeniable agitation. She looked at Pamela, -serene and, as she gazed down at the child, Kitty thought, -lovely, with a maternal softening of her bright, handsome -face.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Jocelyn Bellairs!” cried Lady Kilcroney, -dramatically, “you may well turn away. You may well -feel that sight were more than you can endure. But raise -your eyes, sir. Behold, behold, and let your heart speak. -Can you call yourself a man and refuse that trusting -creature her rights, refuse that exquisite cherub a father’s -name?”</p> - -<p>“Good Lord!” cried Jocelyn. He cast the hat he had -been clasping under his arm into the middle of the room, -the better to clutch his temples. “Am I stark, staring -mad? What monstrous stroke is this, what plot, what -inconceivable mistake?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span>There was such a ring of truth in his accents that my -Lady shot a doubting glance at Pamela, but conviction -returned upon her as she saw this young woman bending -over the child so as to hide her face, and shaken with -hysterical emotion.</p> - -<p>Kitty drew a long breath, and started again.</p> - -<p>“Do not think, nephew, that by adding deceit to your -vileness, you can make a better situation for yourself. -Far from it. I have not sent for you here to-day to -rebuke or even to reproach. My sole desire is to help you -both. Heaven forbid that I should be hard on any -woman who has been betrayed by her own heart!</p> - -<p>“Pamela, if you had confided in me ere this—nay, -never mind now! Suffice it that I know all. As for you, -sir, I am well aware that gentlemen think all too lightly -of a woman’s virtue; that if their fancy leads them to -court in a lower class than their own, the most hitherto -virtuous and confiding female becomes, to use their own -horrid words, fair game.</p> - -<p>“But I’ll not have Pamela Pounce treated so! She’s -far too good for you, sir, and so I tell you straight. And -the proposal which I am about to make to you is for her -sake, and not for yours. You shall marry this good -young woman—good but for you, you scamp!—and I -shall make it my business to place you in an advantageous -position out of England. I’ll pay your debts again, sir, -and set you up. I have not thought where yet, but it -shall not be India, for the little angel’s sake——”</p> - -<p>Here she stopped suddenly. Her eye strayed to the -child, and she saw, to her utter amazement, that the -young milliner was laughing, not weeping.</p> - -<p>“Pamela Pounce!” she cried, in a scandalized voice.</p> - -<p>Pamela got up and set the child on the floor.</p> - -<p>“Will your Ladyship observe the little one? She is -small for her age, I know, nevertheless it is plain to see -she is over two years. How old are you, Carmelita? -Tell the lady.”</p> - -<p>The child, who had maintained a solemn observant<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span> -silence during the whole proceeding, her great eyes roaming -from one person to another, while she contentedly sat on -Pamela’s lap, now looked up into her friend’s face with a -roguish smile.</p> - -<p>“Tell the pretty lady.”</p> - -<p>“Tell you,” said the child.</p> - -<p>“Well, then, tell Pamela.”</p> - -<p>But with the perversity of its sex and years, the child -was here seized with overwhelming giggles and buried its -head in Pamela’s skirt.</p> - -<p>Kitty was staring with her mouth and eyes open, -while a dawning sense of something utterly ludicrous and -amazing showed itself on her face.</p> - -<p>“If her Ladyship will kindly tax her memory,” Pamela -spoke in ineradicable bonnet-shop phraseology—“to -the extent of recollecting that I met Mr. Bellairs for the -first time on the doorstep of this house but eighteen -months ago, she will realise that——”</p> - -<p>“Enough! Enough!” cried Kitty.</p> - -<p>She waved her hand, fell back into her arm-chair, -pressing her filmy handkerchief to her lips, trying to -check her peals of laughter. Perhaps she was not quite -so overwhelmed with merriment as she pretended. Perhaps -she felt that the only way of mitigating the supreme -ridicule of her situation was by being the first to laugh -at it.</p> - -<p>As her patroness laughed, Pamela waxed serious, -while Jocelyn Bellairs stood scarlet and indignant, the -picture of offence and injured rectitude.</p> - -<p>“I little thought, my Lady, when those cats at Mirabel’s -got hold of my cat of an aunt—begging your Ladyship’s -pardon—and started this scandal against me, and all -along of seeing my pink flounces at tea with old Madame -Guturez, this darling’s grandmother, I little thought -your Ladyship would be ready to believe such an outrageous -bit of spiteful nonsense.</p> - -<p>“When they upped and attacked me, says I to them, -‘Mind your own business!’ Heaven be good to me,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span> -said Pamela. “I wasn’t going to stoop to defend myself -to them, and if I hadn’t been the best-natured girl -in the world, I’d have gone straight to Madam Mirabel, -and told her then and there of their plot!</p> - -<p>“And as for Aunt Lydia—well, her ladyship knows -herself. Those old maids have the minds of I don’t -know what. It’s enough to be young and good-looking -for them to think the worst of you. And her a-drawing -in Mr. Bellairs so shameful. I don’t mind confessing to -you, my Lady, that the more that poor old thing shook -and shivered, and went on at me, the more I thought it -would be a fine joke to let her give herself away. But -when it comes to your Ladyship——”</p> - -<p>“Well, well,” said Kitty, not quite liking the tirade, -with pansy eyes rather angry over tightly smiling lips. -“You had but to write me three words of explanation, -Pamela——”</p> - -<p>“Begging your Ladyship’s pardon, if I’d explained -ever so, your Ladyship wouldn’t have believed. No lady -would ever believe a poor girl accused like me, if she -didn’t bring up proof. And allow me to point out, your -Ladyship,” went on the milliner, with a flourish, as if she -were indicating some remarkable feather or trimming, -“that your Ladyship having merely wrote me to come -round with the child, it wouldn’t have been becoming in -me to be attributing meanings to your Ladyship’s commands.”</p> - -<p>The fire went out of Kitty’s eyes, for she was a just -woman; she laughed again, and this time with a genuine -ring.</p> - -<p>“Why, was there ever such a girl! And I so moved -over your story, and so yearning over the child, and so -stirred up, ready to threaten and appeal. And so pleased -with myself to be standing such a friend to you, and -bringing Master Jocelyn to book so clever!”</p> - -<p>“Nay,” said Pamela, “she’s not mine at all.” Here -she swung the little creature up into her arms, and hugged -her. “And I’m sure I wish she was. There, I don’t<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[250]</span> -know what I wouldn’t have gone through to have such a -little darling as this all my own! No, she’s not mine, -your Ladyship. Poor innocent. Ah, ’tis cruel! It’s -worse than no mother at all she has, her that’s the child -of the wretch that calls herself Lady Sanquhar.”</p> - -<p>Both Kitty and her nephew-by-law cried out at this; -Master Jocelyn was shaken from his injured mood by -sudden memories.</p> - -<p>“What, that odious, bold-faced, dressed-up strumpet!” -exclaimed Kitty, “driving about in the park in his -Lordship’s curricle, and brazening it at the Opera, till a -woman of virtue scarce knows which way to look!” -and:</p> - -<p>“The Spanish woman that ran away with Lord Sanquhar!” -shouted Mr. Bellairs, “whose husband was -shot before my very eyes as he was trying to stop her? -Aye, aye, I remember there was a little child.”</p> - -<p>“And only three days ago,” said Pamela, “I turned -the woman out of the shop. ’Tis transported she’d be, -if justice were done.”</p> - -<p>At this my Lady Kilcroney stepped across the room -and embraced Miss Pamela Pounce. Then she kissed -the child, too, with lingering, repeated caress, that -round velvet cheek stirring irresistible motherly passions.</p> - -<p>“And it shall have a cake, it shall, and nice chockey -to drink, it shall, the pretty rogue! Ring the bell, -Jocelyn.”</p> - -<p>Having obeyed, Mr. Bellairs advanced, nostrils dilated, -swaggering a little as he came, with a defiant smartness -which did not sit ill on him.</p> - -<p>“I presume, Aunt Kilcroney, that as there is nothing -else upon which you can desire to confer with me, you -would wish me to withdraw. Nevertheless, there is one -word I should like to say in your hearing to Miss Pamela -Pounce. Will you spare me a hand, Pamela. Thank -you. I kiss this honest hand, this honest, kindly, helpful -hand, and I say that if you will condescend to bestow it -on me, I will——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[251]</span>But Pamela drew away her fingers, and curtsying, -child and all, said with great dignity:</p> - -<p>“Thank you, Mr. Bellairs, I have no intention of -changing my state.”</p> - -<p>Kitty looked doubtfully from one to the other. Had -he been in earnest? She saw that Pamela did not think -so, for the girl had coloured to the roots of her hair, and -tossed her head. She would have no gentleman’s pity -or condescension.</p> - -<p>The countenance of the young man was inscrutable, -as he bowed very low, turned on his heel, and left the -room.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>It was past nine that evening before Madame Mirabel’s -head milliner had sufficiently made up her afternoon’s -holiday to be able to leave the workroom. There was a -purple twilight over the whole busy town, and the lamplighter -was going round with his ladder, leaving a jonquil -flame behind him at long intervals. Here and there a -torch flared in a link. The streets were full of the sound -of feet, the quick feet of those hurrying home, the slow -feet of the strollers. Pamela was tired; the day had -been a long and agitating one. She paused a moment on -the pavement, outside the shop, to inhale the warm air, -and to enjoy the sense of leisure, at last. Her mind -worked mechanically.</p> - -<p>“A twist of purple net on dark blue satin, with a tuft -of orange feathers. ’Twould be a new combination and -vastly genteel. (’Twould suit my Lady Kilcroney too, -with her pansy eyes.)”</p> - -<p>Some one came up behind her with a quick tread that -suddenly faltered. Then a voice called her:</p> - -<p>“Pamela!”</p> - -<p>“La, Mr. Bellairs, what a start you give me!”</p> - -<p>“May I go a little way with you, Pamela dear?”</p> - -<p>“There now! If that isn’t a gentleman all over, -and me having only just re-established my character!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[252]</span> -A-waiting for me again outside Madame Mirabel’s, with -goodness gracious knows how many cats’ eyes a-spying on -me from behind the shutters!”</p> - -<p>Something about the girl’s gay courage, her sane, -bright outlook on life, touched him at a spot already -exceedingly vulnerable. Anyone else, he thought, would -be having the vapours over this afternoon’s work; reproaching, -weeping, lost in self-pity and recrimination. -He reflected, too, how it might have been, had she -listened to him one winter’s evening, and one summer’s -day. A girl in a thousand! His mind had been -already made up, but he ratified the inner decision with -an ardent leap of the heart.</p> - -<p>They went on side by side, till they reached the Park, -and then she remembered again, how, a few yards away, -nearly two years ago, she had snatched a pistol from -him. He stopped her, and spoke.</p> - -<p>“Pamela, I asked you to give me your hand to-day. -I ask you again to be my wife. Oh, when I saw you -stand with the little dark child in your arms, which they -thought was ours, I vowed you were the one woman in -the world for me! Oh, I have been a base wretch! I -owe you money, I owe you my honour. I owe you my -life. I owe you something more worth than all these; -the only real, the only pure love I have ever known. -Pamela! You’ll make a man of me yet, if you’ll have -me.”</p> - -<p>She had once been shaken, flattered by his attentions; -had looked up at him as a being, splendid, dashing, -gallant, altogether out of her sphere. When he had -courted her, it was as if a god had stooped. But this -evening he was something quite different to her: a weak, -wild youth whom her love might steady; a spendthrift, -a gambler, an amiable prodigal for whom she might -prepare the fatted calf, whom her ring might bind to -home; one, in fine, who had need of her. It was the -mother in her who smiled on him now with wet eyes.</p> - -<p>Under a high moon, and a sky full of stars they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[253]</span> -presently discussed plans that seemed to Pamela to -combine the bliss of Eden with the practicality of a -work-a-day world.</p> - -<p>“I’ll not give up my business, sir! I’ll never pretend -to be other than I am. No false lady airs for me!”</p> - -<p>“You wouldn’t be Pamela if there were. You shall -do exactly what you like! But I’m going to work too. -Indeed, my dearest girl, I will! And we’ll have that -cottage somewhere in the green, not too far but what -you can get the coach of a morning.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” cried Pamela, clasping her hands and laughing. -“I’ll have roses in the garden, and sit out of a Sunday -in a pink muslin dress with flounces!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[254]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIII</h2> - -<p class="ph1"><span class="smcap">In which my Lady Kilcroney makes an Indelicate<br> -Fuss</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">My Lord Kilcroney</span> had none of your nasty prudish -minds that think harm of a kiss. To salute a rosy cheek, -or clasp a trim waist came as natural to him as to toss -off a tankard of brown ale, or light his long clay, or sit -in the sunshine. And indeed, my Lady, knowing him, -had as a rule an indulgence for such peccadilloes; the -merest shrug of the shoulders or a “Fie for shame, my -Lord!” in a voice scarce more indignant than that in -which she chid the littler Denis for putting his fingers -in the sugar bowl. But the mischief was in it, this -summer at Weymouth, Kitty being in attendance on -her Royals, that such a change should come over the -whole spirit of the whilom sensible spouse.</p> - -<p>Such a hullaballoo over a kiss! If ever there was -anything likely to drive a really faithful husband to -desperate courses, it was this unexpected, undeserved, -severity.</p> - -<p>Unfortunately he had been unlucky in his choice of -partner for the peccadillo. Molly Lafone’s smooth -cheek, fine grained as a geranium leaf, and as delicately -rouged as a miniature, Molly Lafone’s cheek, ethereally -tinted, had the quality of pitch in the eyes of the other -ladies, and the touch of it defiled.</p> - -<p>My Lord, puffing at his clay in the County Club at -Weymouth, with an air half humorous, half defiant, and -thinking back on that same cheek with a certain complacence, -might perhaps have altered his opinion on the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[255]</span> -whole matter had he been aware how neatly Mrs. Lafone -had timed the episode for the passage of the Queen’s -equipage.</p> - -<p>They had met, quite accidentally, on the parade.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my Lord Kilcroney,” quoth she. “Is it indeed -you?”</p> - -<p>Her victim as good-humoured and devil-may-care as you -please, brought himself up with a wheel and a flourish.</p> - -<p>Molly was clasping her hands. It was her trick to go -like a snowdrop in the dawn, when the rest of womanhood -flared carnation on the cheek. Her small faintly tinted -face was absolutely irradiated.</p> - -<p>“Is it indeed you, Denis Kilcroney? I declare ’tis -like meeting the sun in a fog to see you! Oh, your kind -look, my Lord, and your good smile! This place——” -She broke off.</p> - -<p>“How now!” said he, gallantly saluting a pearl-like -inch of wrist between rumpled glove and race ruffle. -“What’s wrong with the place, Mrs. Lafone? Troth, -and I thought it was the St. James’s over again, for every -ten steps don’t I come across a friend! And this is the -best meeting of all,” he added, with another bow, another -kiss, and a still broader smile, for—deuce take him!—the -little thing had been monstrous glad to see him, there -was no mistake about that, and he was nothing if not -responsive. “And as for the sun,” he went on, straightening -himself, and gazing down at her rather fatuously. -“Isn’t the great orb of Royalty shining on Weymouth -this minute?”</p> - -<p>Now Molly Lafone knew how to play such an one as -Denis Kilcroney, as a skilful angler plays a fish. She -had hooked him with that glance of innocent joy: now -she drove the crochets in more firmly by an air of flutter -which would have melted any masculine temperament.</p> - -<p>(“Oh, I have betrayed myself,” her tremor, her shy -butterfly glance, her sigh, her shaken laughter proclaimed.)</p> - -<p>“Oh, the Royal orb,” she murmured. “Oh, my -Lord!” Then, “Aye, true, indeed. Oh, as you say!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[256]</span> -The orb and sceptre. George——” here a gleam of mischief -came like April sunshine to drive the shadows from -her pretty, abashed countenance. Her faltering voice -took a saucy note. “George and his Dragon,” she -whispered, tittered, put her finger to her lip. “Oh, the -mortal dullness of it! I’m a Parson’s daughter, as your -Lordship knows, and brought up prodigious proper, but -I vow and declare that if anything could make me wish—want -to shake off my sense of piety and virtue—what -am I saying? Good heavens, my Lord Kilcroney! -You are but just arrived; but if Windsor is pompous and -dull, Weymouth is—Oh!” she yawned.</p> - -<p>Kilcroney was eyeing her, his sides shaking with mirth, -but at the words pompous the laughter left his lips, he -scratched his chin.</p> - -<p>“Well, now that you mention it, my dear,” he murmured, -“it struck me there was a certain tedium in the -air.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, tedium!” cried Molly, and went off on another -yawn.</p> - -<p>As she yawned, he reflected. Pompous, she had said. -There had distinctly been a shade of pomposity about his -Kitty, as, just landed from the coach, he had hurried to -embrace her, scarce eighteen hours ago.</p> - -<p>“Heavens, Denis, not in full view of the window. -The Princesses are fond of an evening walk. And good -gracious, my Lord, what a coat to travel in, and the -King’s gentlemen always point-device! And pray, dear -Denis, let me send for the hairdresser, for if Her Majesty -was to see you, such a show, down the parade, and she -so set against the Irish, I scarcely know how I could bear -myself in her Presence.”</p> - -<p>This was the welcome Denis had had the day before; -and it had somewhat clouded his morning thought. It -had taken all the comfort of his recent passage through -the hands of a first-class barber, and of as good a tankard -of burnt Sherry as ever he had tasted at the County Club, -to restore him to the good humour in which Mistress<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[257]</span> -Lafone had found him. He now thought back upon his -grievance, and as is often the case, with an increased -sense of injury.</p> - -<p>“’Pon me soul, you’re in the right of it! And what -in the world my Lady and the rest of them want to be -hanging on the Court for, this way, passes me. Glory -be to God, doesn’t weariness ooze out of them all? It’s -sodden they are with it.”</p> - -<p>“Weariness,” echoed she again. She glanced up at -the black-faced clock with the white figures on the church -tower across the way. The sea was on the other side of -them; the foam-capped waves tossing and furling and -pursuing each other in playful frolic like myriads of lambs -on a deep blue field. There was a gay sky to match, and a -gay wind, full of an intoxicating tang, and it blew Mistress -Lafone’s shot green taffety into balloons, and silvery -liquifactions, and fluttered her light curls, and set the -long amber streamers of her rustic hat flying like pennons. -She glanced back from the clock to my Lord’s -face, and her eyes danced and flickered as if the sea were -in them, and suddenly filled with huge tears.</p> - -<p>“’Tis not the weariness, I mind,” she exclaimed with -a sob. “’Tis the cruelty!”</p> - -<p>“Why, you poor little bird,” quoth he, tenderly -compassionate. “Could anyone be cruel to you?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, indeed, they are, my Lord, and I can’t think -how I have offended them! Oh, the slights, the unkindnesses! -And my Lady Kilcroney, your own dear lovely -lady, my Lord, what hath she against me.... Oh, I do -assure you,” cried Mrs. Lafone, raising her voice piteously, -as the measured trot of royal horses beat upon her ear. -“I’ve cried myself to sleep, night after night. And -when I saw your face, ‘here’s one,’ I said to myself, -‘who will be a little kind to me!’”</p> - -<p>The wind—it certainly was a naughty wind, as if it, too, -were a rebel against the decorum imposed by the presence -of Royalty—came rushing up from the wide ocean and -caught Mistress Lafone in a positive whirl, seizing her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[258]</span> -with a great beat of invisible pennons as if about to fly -away with her.</p> - -<p>“Oh! oh!” she cried. Her light figure swayed and -seemed to lift. She flung out her arms. What could my -Lord do but catch her? And holding her, what could he -do, but kiss her? For there were tears on her delicate -face which melted him, and sparkles behind them which -dared him; and what’s a kiss when all is said and done?</p> - -<p>The Royal carriage wheeled by them, and Kitty, sitting -bolt upright opposite the Queen, had a good view of her -erring spouse and his infamous companion for the whole -length of the parade. It can scarcely be credited: the -culprits, as they gazed back at her, were laughing.</p> - -<p>The matrimonial course of the Kilcroneys had been -fond, but as anyone who knew my Lady might guess, it -had been variegated. She had a quick temper, an impatient -spirit, and a detestation of monotony; withal the -soundest heart in the world. So that never did couple -so often fall out, or so fervently make it up, as they. -My Lord, who was of an easy-going temperament, who -loved and admired his Kitty in all her moods, rather -enjoyed these connubial storms.</p> - -<p>“Begad,” he would say, “there never was anything to -equal a dash of red pepper for making a man enjoy the -taste of the wine afterwards.”</p> - -<p>But now my Lady’s wrath took an unpleasant form; -one which, in its turn, aroused his resentment. It drove -him even to a certain bitterness, as he sat in the bow-window -of the County Club, pulling at his long clay. It -drove the complacent memory of Molly Lafone’s smooth, -pert cheek from his mind as with a sting.</p> - -<p>“’Pon me word,” he said, swinging his leg. “A man -would think it was the leper I’d made of myself! Split -me, Verney, if me Lady doesn’t whisk away her skirts as -she crosses me path! And never a word out of her since -she first had at me—Bejabers! I’m not like to forget -that in a hurry! But it’s pinched lips and dropped eyes -and turn away with her till I’m crazy.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[259]</span>Squire Day and my Lord Verney gazed with compassion -on the sinner, the compassion that is the worst -kind of condemnation. Then Squire Day said, a little -drily:</p> - -<p>“’Tis a pity that the occasion should have been quite -so public.”</p> - -<p>And my Lord Verney, drawing in his turn the clay -from his lips, burst out:</p> - -<p>“Susan says—My Lady Verney hath it that ’twas -Mistress Lafone’s very plan, to show you up before their -gracious Majesties and shame Kitty.”</p> - -<p>Kilcroney stared a moment with widening eyes and -dropping jaw at the speaker. Then the crimson rose in -his handsome dissipated face.</p> - -<p>“Ah! God help you!” he exclaimed, “if that isn’t -the ladies all over. ’Tis the down of the world they have -on that poor little creature. And what in the name o’ -God should she want to be playing such a thrick for? -And sure, oughtn’t I to know, ’twas the innocentest——” -he broke off, for Squire Day’s laugh was loud.</p> - -<p>“Innocent?” he repeated. “My dear Kil, ’tis you -who are as innocent as Adam! But I’m with you on one -point. The ladies have treated that little Lafone monstrous -cruel. I doubt if they have as much as let her -nibble a macaroon with them since they came down here. -And your Kitty has given the lead.”</p> - -<p>“My Kitty!” exclaimed her spouse in a generous heat. -“Why, man, she’s picked that same Molly out of a hundred -scrapes. Sure, Lafone’s no more sense than a child. -Why, she owes my Lady——”</p> - -<p>“Ah,” said Squire Day, quietly, “she’s one who pays -back with interest.”</p> - -<p>Kilcroney stared again.</p> - -<p>“I’ll be hanged if I know what you’re driving at, men,” -he began, but suddenly fell silent with fixed eyes.</p> - -<p>His arm-chair was opposite the door, which had now -been quietly opened; a fine portly gentleman walked in -as if the place belonged to him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[260]</span>“Tare and ’ounds, lads,” cried the Irishman, under his -breath. “Here’s His Royal Highness!” and sprang to -his feet.</p> - -<p>The next instant the club-room rang with shouts of -mirth.</p> - -<p>“By the Holy Father! Stafford! Ned, me boy, I -took you for the Prince of Wales. ’Pon me living soul, -I did. Oh, Ned, Ned! ’tis the fill of your waistcoat you -are, and no mistake.”</p> - -<p>“His Highness ought to be flattered,” said Mr. Stafford, -who was not.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Miss Pamela Pounce was deposited at The White Hart, -Weymouth, by the midday coach, having slept at Dorchester.</p> - -<p>She looked as crisp and modish as one of her own hats, -as she tripped along the parade towards my Lady Kilcroney’s -lodgings, followed by a porter who moved in a -perfect grove of bandboxes.</p> - -<p>Miss Pounce had travelled to Weymouth with a selection -of hats and heads for the tempting of her fashionable -clientele. Born business woman as she was, she carried -her unerring instinct into every detail, such as that very -halt at Dorchester, which enabled her to impress at once -by her appetising freshness and her air of not having lost -a minute in providing an esteemed customer with the -very latest; “piping hot,” as she herself expressed it.</p> - -<p>She had no hesitation in the choice of her first patroness. -My Lady Kilcroney gave the lead and Madame Mirabel’s -partner only spoke the truth when she averred that she -had rather have my Lady’s custom than that of Queen -Charlotte and all the Princesses.</p> - -<p>Softly signalling to the burthened porter to wait in the -hall, Miss Pounce nipped two special bandboxes from his -grasp and herself mounted the stairs behind Kitty’s -black boy. Her Ladyship was in her bedroom. That -suited Pamela very well; in fact she had timed herself -to find Kitty in her <i>négligé</i>, perfumed from her toilet,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[261]</span> -restored by her morning chocolate, just planning the -pleasures of the day. Miss Pounce smiled, as bending -her ear she caught the sound of feminine voices and -laughter within. A discreet play of nails upon the -panels remaining unanswered, she gave one authoritative -tap and entered.</p> - -<p>Kitty, in a cloud of lace, with lavender ribbons, occupied -the centre of the apartment, throned in a high winged -arm-chair. Her elbows were on the table before her, -on which were strewn divers coloured prints and an -immense heap of light-hued patterns of silk and satin. -On either side of her sat her two special cronies: Lady -Anne Day and Lady Flora Dare-Stamer. All three heads -were bent together; no conspirators planning the downfall -of the Crown, could have seemed more wrapped in -mysterious colloquy. Pamela had to “hem” before -her presence was noticed. Then the faces were lifted -with a start, and Miss Pounce had no reason to complain -of the effect of her unexpected appearance.</p> - -<p>Kitty clapped her hands.</p> - -<p>“What good wind has driven you hither, child, to-day -of all days?”</p> - -<p>“And I who was thinking,” cried Nan Day, “that -I hadn’t a head to my curls, fit to appear at Kitty’s -party, for my country slut has packed your rose tulle -turban, and the Paris toque, Miss Pounce, I do assure -you, as if she was stuffing a goose!”</p> - -<p>“As for me,” said Lady Flora, “I haven’t paid Madame -Mirabel’s account this goodness knows how long. But -there—I think she knows I’m no bad customer after -all”—with her fat laugh. “And I’m sure she’ll let me -have a mode to set off my poor countenance, or I shall -be lost indeed, amid so much youth and beauty!”</p> - -<p>Miss Pounce put down her bandboxes, to give them -admirably differentiated curtsies, and drew in her breath -with that sucking sound which meant the excess of -enjoyment.</p> - -<p>My Lady Kilcroney was about to give an entertainment;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[262]</span> -an entertainment before which every other effort -of hers should pale. It was to be honoured with the -presence of the King and Queen and the Princesses; -that went without saying. But it was to be more distinguished -even than this. His Royal Highness, the -Prince of Wales, was expected for three days at Weymouth, -on a kind of reconciliation visit to Their Majesties—there -had been one of those too frequent ruptures between -them—and my Lady’s party was the only one which he -had signified his pleasure to attend. Never in all her -triumphant days had Kitty reached such a triumph. -It was no wonder that her eyes sparkled, and her hands -trembled, as she turned over patterns, and discussed -minuets.</p> - -<p>Five violins from the Opera were coming, and the -famous lady harpist. Only the select of the select were -to be admitted to the sacred circle. The supper was to -beat every feast that Kitty’s chef, with the assistance of -several club friends, had ever before accomplished, and -Kitty’s costume (carmine brocade powdered with silver -rosebuds), was to outshine anything that that leader of -fashion had previously donned.</p> - -<p>“I declare I was about to post an express to Madame -Mirabel to get you down, my dear,” said Kitty when the -first clatter of conversation had something died away.</p> - -<p>Pamela pinched her lips.</p> - -<p>“Well, if it isn’t Providence! I’ve got in that bandbox -a head!—a head, I say, my Lady, roses dew-dropped -with Strass, and just a twist of silver net illusion—if it -ain’t Providence!”</p> - -<p>Perhaps Miss Lydia Pounce had assisted Providence -in this matter. That admirable abigail had her wits all -about her.</p> - -<p>The three charming ladies held their breath while the -nimble young milliner went down on one knee and began -to unfasten the cordings of the larger bandbox. Scarcely -had her fingers reached the palpitating stage of tissue -paper, when the door was flung violently open, and Lord<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[263]</span> -Kilcroney marched into the room. He came in with -a great swing of coat-tails and stamp of high boots, and -it was plain to see, by other tokens—his flaming eye, his -dilated nostril, his clenched jaw—that he was in a towering -rage.</p> - -<p>The ladies fell apart, with the movement of scared -birds under the dash of the hawk. Even Kitty cowered -in her chair, though only for a second. Before the -gathering wrath exploded, she had reared her pretty -head in defiance, and was ready to meet him with a -temper-flash as stormy as his own.</p> - -<p>He flung on the table an open letter—a fragrant, pink -sheet it was, with coquettish wafer still attached—and -pinning it with his finger, asked in a voice, hoarse and -trembling from his efforts to control it: “Is this a forgery, -my Lady, or is it a bad joke?”</p> - -<p>Kitty glanced down at the scrap of paper, marked with -her own delicate caligraphy, in the latest thing in violet -inks; then, her hotly-resentful gaze contradicting the -ice-cold mockery of her accents: “I marvel, my Lord, -that you can find a joke in what is to me so monstrous -sad.”</p> - -<p>“I say it’s a bad joke, a blanked, ill-bred, devilish bit -of cattiness!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, pray, pray!” tittered my Lady on the edge of -hysterical fury. “Remember you are not in the bosom -of your family, Denis. Here are witnesses——”</p> - -<p>“Witnesses, is it? I’ve nothing to hide, I’d have it -called by the town crier. The letter which a wife was -not ashamed to send to her husband may be sung -up and down the parade, for all I care! Listen to this, -Nan Day: you led your husband a pretty dance once -upon a time, but split me, you stopped short of public -insult! Listen, Lady Flora. All the world knows what -a treasure Dare-Stamer has in you and how ’tis the -good humour of the world you have with him, and the -patience! Here’s a message for a wife to write to her -husband:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[264]</span>“<i>My dear Denis, Her Majesty has most graciously -condoned the dreadful Act of Disrespect by which you made -an exhibition of yourself and of another person who shall -be nameless, at a moment, when the Horrid Spectacle could -not fail to meet her August Glance, in so far as not to -withdraw her condescending promise to be present at my -Ball to-morrow night. She has, nevertheless, given me to -understand with Her own incomparable Tact and Kindness -that should you find it convenient to be absent on business -on that occasion it would considerably add to the harmony -of the evening. I am sure I need only convey this expression -of her Royal pleasure to you, that you are not so -altogether lost to decency and good feeling as not instantly -to take steps to meet it. Pray believe me, my Lord, to -remain your attached and dutiful Wife——</i>”</p> -</div> - -<p>Denis’s voice shook and broke with a sound that -approached a snarl, on the last words.</p> - -<p>“What do you think of that? What do you think of -it?” he shouted, shaking the letter, first under Lady -Flora’s, then under Nan Day’s nose.</p> - -<p>Both ladies looked scared.</p> - -<p>“Dear! dear!” said Lady Flora, “I’m sure ’tis vastly -disagreeable all round, but—well, there, my good soul, -wouldn’t it help matters if you was just to do as the -Queen asks? La! she’s so prodigious stiff-backed. -And who should know it but me! Didn’t I nearly die of -being Lady of the Bedchamber for three mortal months. -Oh, I’m too fat and soft for Her Majesty, but sure, it’ll all -blow over, and you so good-natured yourself, and so -obliging!”</p> - -<p>“I’m sure,” said Nan, stepping up to Kitty, and turning -a fierce blue eye on my Lord, “I don’t know what you -mean about leading my Philip a dance, my Lord Kilcroney. -Whatever points of difference there may have -been between us, they’ve been private ones, and my -husband, sir, is a gentleman of high principles and good -conduct, and if I were not all a wife should be to him,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[265]</span> -I should be, indeed, the basest of women; but were I——” -she suddenly began to shake and tremble upon tears—“were -I wedded to one who outraged my tenderest -feelings, offended my dignity in public, made a mock of -the most solemn vows, and—and——” she flung her arms -round Kitty and clasped her, sobbing.</p> - -<p>Her emotion was contagious. Kitty burst into tears -on the spot.</p> - -<p>“May you never know what it means, my sweet Nan. -May your heart never be broken!”</p> - -<p>The two clung together, sobbing as for a wager, and -Lady Flora, whisking out a capable handkerchief, sniffed -and begged them, with reddening eyelids, to stop for -mercy’s sake.</p> - -<p>“Don’t, Kilcroney! Don’t, Nan! I’m so soft! -You’ll have me off too. I never could bear to see anyone -cry.”</p> - -<p>Even Pamela, kneeling beside her bandbox, flung a -gaze of deep reproach upon the sinner. She knew something -of the story: her aunt was one who liked to retail -a bit of spicy gossip when it came her way.</p> - -<p>The weight of this feminine condemnation was too much -for the unhappy Denis, but his wrath was unabated.</p> - -<p>“Vastly well, my Lady. Vastly well,” he cried, -thrusting the crumpled note into his pocket. “I’ll off -with myself, aye, and I’ll take this love token with me. -I’ll not pollute your party, never fear; but whatever you -hear of me, now, remember, you drove me to it.”</p> - -<p>Denis Kilcroney fulfilled his dark threat by going -straight to the confectioner’s shop, over which Mrs. -Lafone had taken modest lodgings. He found her in -company with her brother-in-law, Ned Stafford. That -gentleman was lying, as much at his ease as he could in -the only arm-chair, which was, however, hard and slippery, -being covered with horsehair. His hands were joined by -the finger-tips, his eyes were closed. With a resigned lift -of eyebrow he was listening to the little lady’s shrill and -voluble harangue.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[266]</span>Mistress Molly, in a white muslin morning wrapper tied -round her slim waist by an azure blue ribbon, with silver -fair hair, scarcely powdered, all unbound, save for where -a knot of the same blue caught the curls at the nape of -her neck, looked perhaps only the more attractive because -her eyes and cheeks blazed with anger. And it was, my -Lord Kilcroney saw with relief, a dry anger; for his -Kitty, playing the victim while exercising such—yes! -dash it, the only word was spite!—had added exasperation -to his sense of injury.</p> - -<p>“Come in, come in, my Lord,” Mistress Molly wheeled -upon him with a laugh, if Denis could only have recognised -the fact, more full of spite than his Lady’s utmost petulance. -“Pray have you heard what I’ve been saying? -Oh, you needn’t blink at me like that, Brother Stafford, -I’ll say it all over again. I’ll say that my Lady Kilcroney -is the most jealous cat in the whole of England. She has -left me out of her royal ball, has she? I’m not virtuous -enough! What, my Lord, you kissed my wrist on the -parade—and if I say it was my wrist, Tom Stafford? -I ought to know! and Kitty—oh, the virtuous Kitty!—and -her old cross Royal thought to see the kind of shocking -spectacle your virtuous people are fond of thinking they -see. My Lady was always jealous of poor little me! -I don’t care who hears me. I say—hold your tongue, -Tom!—’tis a conspiracy, ’tis a scandal. I’ll make Mr. -Lafone tell His Royal Highness all about it. I’ll go to -law on it. There can’t be more scandal about me than -there will be for being the only one of the ladies at Weymouth -left out to-morrow night!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Stafford, who had been glinting at Denis -between his bored eyelids, now opened them a fraction -wider.</p> - -<p>“For Heaven’s sake, good lad,” said he, “get her a -ticket.”</p> - -<p>“Get her one yourself.”</p> - -<p>“My good Kil, your Lady does not even know that -I’m in Weymouth.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[267]</span>“Why then, you’ve but got to show yourself. You’re -not her husband,” added Kilcroney bitterly.</p> - -<p>“Not at all!” cried Mr. Stafford, with some energy. -“It shall never be said that I have set myself to curry -favour with Kitty Kilcroney, more especially since ’tis -my own sister-in-law that she’s treating so uncivil. Nay, -Kil, I’ll keep out of it. I’m only giving you a bit of advice -for your own sake. Get her a ticket. ’Twill save a lot -of bother in the end. And I do assure you,” as Denis -laughed hollowly, “’Twill have an excellent effect on -society generally. There has been far too much fuss -about an incident which should have been—ahem!—passed -over!”</p> - -<p>Lord Kilcroney dropped upon the horsehair sofa, -which creaked dismally.</p> - -<p>“And pray,” said he, in a tone of sarcasm, “when you -had dealings with my Lady yourself—and you had a -few, one way and another—did you find her so easy to -manage?”</p> - -<p>Now Mr. Stafford had somewhere hidden away an old -grudge against Lady Kilcroney, who had not only jilted him, -but had scored off him notably on more than one occasion. -Mr. Stafford was far from approving of Molly, whom, -indeed, it may be said, he heartily disliked, but to find a -close relative pilloried on your arrival at a fashionable -watering-place was a set down to a beau’s pride. He -was inclined to champion her. Under his languid airs he -was very wroth with my Lady Kilcroney; she was making -an indelicate fuss; she had lost her usual tactful grasp -of the situation through ridiculous jealousy. After all, -as Kilcroney himself represented, there couldn’t have -been much harm in a kiss bestowed on the open parade -in a high wind; between wrist or cheek like enough -there was a confusion by one or other of the parties. -But Kilcroney’s next remark made him jump to his feet.</p> - -<p>“As for a ticket for the show, me lad, I’m not to -have one, either.”</p> - -<p>“Kil!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[268]</span>“My Lord!”</p> - -<p>Molly broke into shriller laughter, and beat her palms -together.</p> - -<p>“And His Royal Highness coming and all!”</p> - -<p>“Aye, and by the same token I saw that august -personage driving his curricle along the sea road on my -way here,” said Mr. Stafford, relapsing into his usual -rather insolent serenity. Your fine gentleman will not -let himself be betrayed into emotion if he can help it.</p> - -<p>“And I was less flattered than ever at your taking me -for him yesterday, Kil.”</p> - -<p>His sister-in-law looked at him curiously. “But my -Lord Kilcroney is right!” she cried maliciously. “Since -you’ve grown so prodigious fat, brother-in-law.”</p> - -<p>Then, having planted the pin-prick which she never -allowed to escape her, she returned to the real subject of -interest.</p> - -<p>“Not to be present at your own wife’s entertainment? -Oh come, my Lord, this is an Irish way of evading the -question. You must think us monstrous simple to -credit——”</p> - -<p>It was a morning of interruptions, for here Miss Pounce -and the bandboxes marched unexpectedly in upon them. -She was breathing quickly and speaking with volubility.</p> - -<p>My Lady Verney’s own woman had informed her of -Mrs. Lafone’s address in the town, and she had ventured -to present herself with the very latest, positively the very -latest, to show to her most esteemed customers. Miss -Pounce was quite sure that Mistress Lafone and Mistress -Stafford—“Is your lady here, sir?” she curtsied to the -Beau, who was ogling her jocosely. “Not till next week? -Oh, dear, what a pity! I’d have been honoured, sir, to -supply a hat or a head for the beautiful Mrs. Stafford. -But as I was saying, I am quite sure that you, Madam, -and your sister, being such kind patrons of the establishment, -Madame Mirabel would have taken it very bad of -me, very bad of me indeed, had I failed to seek you out.”</p> - -<p>Denis Kilcroney was sitting erect upon the sofa, with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[269]</span> -his arms folded, and a stern glance upon the glib Pamela. -This young person avoided meeting the glance in question. -She felt that her swift appearance at Mrs. Lafone’s lodgings -on the heels of my Lord’s stormy exit was, for all her -clever patter, a little too obvious a coincidence.</p> - -<p>“I’ve a head here,” went on Miss Pounce, beginning -to set down her bandboxes, and making the most -theatrical effects with the undoing of strings and rustling -of tissue paper. “Well, <i>really</i>, the Duchess of Hampshire -wanted, right or wrong, to have it for her ball last week -when she entertained the Prince, as you may have seen -by the news-sheet, Madam. But I says to her, ‘No, -your Grace,’ I says, ‘’tis too elfin for your Grace. Your -Grace wants, so to speak, the Goddess effect.’ And as I -says it, if you’ll believe me, I thought of you, ma’am.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Lafone did not believe her, but she stood, hesitating -a little, over the bandboxes, torn between a pettish -desire to dismiss with obloquy the wretch who had come -to turn the dagger in the wound, and the budding hope -that Mr. Stafford, who had plenty of money, might be -moved to do the generous for once, and present his injured -sister-in-law with a token of his esteem.</p> - -<p>Miss Pounce drew out what was indeed a fairy-like -wreath of pale blue convolvulus, and Molly exclaimed in -rapture. In a wink Miss Pounce had placed it on the -fair, dishevelled head.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Madam, if ever there was a perfect vision! Look, -Mr. Stafford, Sir! Look, my Lord, if I may make so -bold; isn’t Mrs. Lafone fitted, so to speak, like a—like -a——” She faltered on the simile, for neither gentlemen -showed any disposition to rise to the occasion.</p> - -<p>My Lord cast another glance upon the milliner, which -said as plain as words: “Don’t think you can take me in, -my good girl,” and then, with a formal bow to the syren -and a wave of the hand to Stafford, he sauntered out of -the room.</p> - -<p>Mr. Stafford flung a glance of mocking pity after him, -whistling a ballad tune under his breath; then he put his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[270]</span> -hand into his pocket, but it was only to produce a snuffbox, -from which he proceeded to inhale.</p> - -<p>Molly pettishly tore the wreath from her curls, declaring -in her most acrid accents:</p> - -<p>“Really, Miss Pounce, this is a great liberty. I can -order my hats for myself when I require them, and then -I usually write to Madame Eglantine, in Paris. And -anyhow, I am not going into society by doctor’s orders. -I am here for my health. Pray, Mr. Stafford, will you -pull the bell rope, that Madame Mirabel’s assistant may -be shown to the door.”</p> - -<p>Miss Pounce started to re-pack the wreath, with further -extraordinary manipulations of tissue paper. She was -all bland apology. She craved a hundred pardons. She -had made so sure that Mrs. Lafone would be going to my -Lady Kilcroney’s ball at the Assembly Rooms to-morrow -night. She hoped and trusted it would be as great a -success as the Duchess of Hampshire’s last week, and -that His Royal Highness would be equally delighted -with his entertainment. “Though of course——” here -the milliner genteelly tittered, “it was not likely he would -be equally demonstrative to his hostess. Was it possible -Madame had not heard how His Royal Highness, saying -‘It is a Sovereign’s privilege to salute another Sovereign, -and you are Queen of Beauty,’ had kissed her Grace of -Hampshire on the cheek after the minuet—Oh, indeed, -she had danced like an angel, and looked exceedingly -well—before the whole assembly?”</p> - -<p>“Dear me!” said Mr. Stafford, with humorous -meaning.</p> - -<p>“And I’m sure, I hope,” cried acrid Molly, “that His -Royal Highness may be as prodigal of caress to my Lady -Kilcroney. Oh!” she cried, clasping her hands, “if that -is the kind of fit that’s on him, and he was to kiss my -sweetest Kitty before his Royal Mamma and the lovely -Princesses, what a monstrous joke it would be.”</p> - -<p>Here Mr. Stafford stepped forward and opened the door.</p> - -<p>“Allow me, my dear,” said he, and with what Pamela<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[271]</span> -thought an insufferable free-and-easiness, lifted her bandboxes -one after the other into the passage, and literally -bowed her out.</p> - -<p>She stood, snapping her fingers and biting her nails, -to linger and listen as long as she dared. Up to this she -had after all but poor gleanings to bring back to her -Aunt Lydia for the retailing into her patroness’s ear, save, -indeed, the sad verification of my Lord’s presence in the -Minx’s lodgings. But she saw that she was suspected -by one, if not both, of the gentlemen, and however necessary -it is for a young milliner to make quite certain that -the cords of her boxes are properly tied, it is not an -operation that can be prolonged indefinitely. Some -phrases she did catch.</p> - -<p>“The joke of it is that the Prince,” Mr. Stafford was -observing.</p> - -<p>The rest of the remark was lost; it was followed by a -crow from Molly Lafone.</p> - -<p>“Not to be there, after all? Serve her right!” -Then in another tone. “Oh, I have the drollest inspiration!”</p> - -<p>“Hush!”</p> - -<p>Pounce pricked her ear to its utmost alertness.</p> - -<p>“I have the drollest inspiration,” said Mrs. Lafone. -“Since you say, Tom, you’re poz that His Royal Highness -don’t mean to attend my Lady’s ball—and I say it serves -her right—why should you not go in his stead?”</p> - -<p>“Go in his stead?” Mr. Stafford blankly repeated -then. “You’re crazy, Molly!”</p> - -<p>“And not at all! Oh, it can be managed, I do assure -you! Oh, it would be too droll, too delightful! And it -would be better than droll, for ’twould be a certain way -to heal the breach, the sad, sad breach between our poor -Kil and that same jealous Kitty. Pray, Brother-in-law, -before you interrupt, let me speak one word! Kitty’s -Royals, King, Queen and Princesses, will but pass through -the Assembly Rooms. ’Tis the way of Royalty. ’Tis -all anyone would expect of them, more especially as His<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[272]</span> -Majesty is so out of health. What is to prevent the -Prince changing his mind, and popping in for late supper? -By the Prince, I mean you, Tom. Come now, you know -’tis a thing he might do very well. People would only -say he could not bear the tedium of dancing at his Royal -parents’ heels. Come now, Mr. Stafford, sir. I see it in -your eye. You know ’tis a trick could be played on my -Lady with perfect success? Oh, you need not present -yourself on the scene till every one should have departed, -save the select little circle, those sweet, dear, charming -ladies and their stupid husbands, who won’t have anything -to say to poor little me! And then, oh, Mr. Stafford, -you must be monstrous charmed, and monstrous gallant, -and—well, monstrous tipsy if you like, and you will but -the closer ape our dear future Sovereign! And then -(oh, how you gape!) don’t you see? You must kiss my -Lady, and if she don’t have to forgive my Lord afterwards——”</p> - -<p>“Foh!” said Mr. Stafford. “’Tis the rankest nonsense. -And I’m not so prodigious like the Prince as all that.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but you are, Mr. Stafford! Didn’t my Lord -Kilcroney take you for him but yesterday? With one -of those new white chokers, and a frill to the shirt, and a -bit of blue ribbon across it and a new wig with a top-knot -to it, and a fine brocade waistcoat on your fine figure—you -were always so clever at the acting, Brother-in-law!—I’d -defy even your Prue to find you out!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Stafford was apparently unconvinced, for Molly -Lafone’s accents changed from wheedling to taunting.</p> - -<p>“And indeed, Tom, I thought you’d more spirit. Here -I give you such a chance as never was of paying my Lady -out for the trick she played on you. Why, she made you -the laughing-stock of Bath. Oh, I have heard such droll -tales—how, rather than marry you, she made my Lord—Denis -O’Hara, as he was then—dress up as a woman and -pretend to be your previous wife at the altar steps. Are -you so mean-spirited as to forget? And ’tisn’t as if it -wouldn’t be the best turn in the world for my Lord, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[273]</span> -him so good-natured, and treated so shameful! I thought -gentlemen stood by each other. For a wife to insult her -husband so!”</p> - -<p>“It mightn’t put me in such very good odour with -His Royal Highness,” said Mr. Stafford, and Pamela knew -by his tone that he was faltering.</p> - -<p>“As if anyone was likely to tell him. However, if -you’re afraid, Brother-in-law——”</p> - -<p>“You’re a little devil,” said Mr. Stafford.</p> - -<p>And Pamela picked up her boxes and flew. She had -heard enough, and she knew that Mistress Lafone had -carried her point.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[274]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIV</h2> - -<p class="ph1"><span class="smcap">In which Kitty is more Incomparable Than Ever</span></p> -</div> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Good</span> God!” said Nan Day, under her breath. “If -that is not the Lafone piece! My dearest Kitty, what -insolence!”</p> - -<p>“I invited her,” said my Lady Kilcroney, quietly.</p> - -<p>“Kitty!”</p> - -<p>“By special messenger to-day.”</p> - -<p>“Kitty!!!”</p> - -<p>“I particularly wished for the presence of Mrs. Lafone -here to-night.”</p> - -<p>The syren was now approaching, crowned with the -very wreath she had cast back at Pamela Pounce, writhing -like a lissome snake, in the billows and laces of her changing -sea-green ball gown. Nan watched Kitty’s urbanity, -and the minx’s unconcealed impertinence with ever-growing -amazement.</p> - -<p>“Am I too late to see the dear, dear Royals?”</p> - -<p>“Unfortunately their Majesties stayed but a short -time. The King was feeling unwell.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dearest Lady Kilcroney, what a disappointment -for you!”</p> - -<p>Kitty had a tilting smile.</p> - -<p>“Less to me than to other people, perhaps, my dear -Lafone, since I have the privilege of being so constantly -in Their Majesties’ company.”</p> - -<p>“True, true. It must be a sad fatigue for you. Her -Majesty has no mercy on her ladies’ legs, I always heard.” -The minx’s eyes were wandering. “But His Royal<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[275]</span> -Highness has remained, I trust? ’Twas the talk of the -place how he was expected.”</p> - -<p>“His Royal Highness has left Weymouth, I understand.”</p> - -<p>Kitty was really too unconcerned. It could take in -nobody, Lady Anne Day thought. She bit into a rose -of her bouquet, and wished she could beat Lafone about -the head with it.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dearest Lady Kilcroney, who could have told -you such a tale? His Royal Highness is even now -sitting at the window of the County Club, eating lobster -by the light of a silver candelabra. I saw him as my -chair was carried by. Surely he will present himself at -supper time? The Prince is always so courteous, so -considerate.”</p> - -<p>“Pray, Mrs. Lafone, the quadrille is beginning. Have -you a partner? Or shall I provide you with a gentleman?”</p> - -<p>Molly rolled her glistening green eyes with well-feigned -anxiety from side to side.</p> - -<p>“Well, there’s an old promise to my Lord Kilcroney. -He made me swear to give him the first dance at the -next assembly, wherever we might happen to meet. Ah—is -he not yonder? Nay, ’tis quite another countenance. -But he will be at your Ladyship’s side in a moment, I -make no doubt.”</p> - -<p>“My Lord has left Weymouth.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dearest Lady Kilcroney, what a sad, strange -contretemps!”</p> - -<p>Even as she spoke that green eye became fixed. One -of Kitty’s magnificent footmen was approaching, bearing -a letter on a salver. My Lady read it, glanced at Mrs. -Lafone, and then turned to Lady Ann: “The Prince is -coming, after all, Nan. How strange—” she turned -back to Molly—“that you should this moment have -suggested the possibility.”</p> - -<p>Mistress Lafone had recognised in a single flash the -great folded sheet that she had herself prepared and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[276]</span> -sealed with so much amusement, to the accompaniment -of the protests of the rather doubtful, yet not altogether -unwilling Beau. The seal had been Molly’s triumph. -What will not a determined woman accomplish? She -had actually got possession of the kind of wafer habitually -used by the Prince. Like mistress, like maid, it is said: -Mistress Molly’s own maid was as much of a minx as her -mistress. She had started flirtations with every likely -scoundrel about Weymouth before she had been a fortnight -in the place. One of the drawers at the Crown Inn -had thought it a small price to pay for the smiles of Jenny -Jinks to give her, as a keepsake, a few wafers out of the -Prince’s own ivory box, off the writing-table in the room -occupied by His Royal Highness.</p> - -<p>“The Prince coming after all!” cried Nan Day joyfully. -She was genuinely fond of Kitty, but even if she -had not been so, to see Lafone discomfited would have -been delightful to her.</p> - -<p>This latter was seized with a fit of tittering, and was -fain to retire, fanning herself violently and simulating a -threat of the vapours.</p> - -<p>Lady Ann looked after her contemptuously.</p> - -<p>“She can hardly conceal her spite,” quoth she. “Ah, -Kitty, I believe you knew the Prince was coming all the -while, and that was why you invited that little rascal!”</p> - -<p>Kitty had upon this, as even the obtuse Nan could -not but notice, a singular smile.</p> - -<p>Certainly it would have been a thousand pities had -my Lady Kilcroney’s entertainment fallen flat, for never -had even her bright wits and long purse made more -charming and sumptuous preparations.</p> - -<p>The Assembly Rooms had been transmogrified into a -fairy bower, with hangings of white silk, and garlands of -roses. The band was surpassing itself: the supper, no -doubt, would be unsurpassable. There was a special -supper-room prepared off the great ball-room, where, it -was hinted, such delicacies would be served as would -tickle the jaded palate of the Prince. If he had not come<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[277]</span> -’twould have been a catastrophe. Yes, positively a -catastrophe for my Lady Kilcroney.</p> - -<p>The moment approached for the appearance of the -Royal guest. The most pompous of the company had -taken its departure closely upon the heels of Royalty, -and now there was left none but that select circle to -which Mistress Lafone had referred with so much acrimony, -and a sprinkling of young naval officers, quite -negligible beings.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, one of these was now to suit Mistress -Molly’s purpose very well. Most unaccountably, she, -who was generally surrounded by the male sex, found -herself neglected to-night by the gentlemen of Kitty’s -coterie. Perhaps her mermaid charms seemed more -dangerous than alluring after the trap into which my -Lord Kilcroney had fallen. Anyway, she was glad to -hang upon the arm of a blushing youth in blue, and the -celebrated band striking up “God save the Prince of -Wales” with a great stroke of bows, planted herself -with her cavalier near the entrance to watch, her heart -beating high with ecstasy and fear—for the appearance -of brother-in-law Tom as the Prince of Wales.</p> - -<p>A stout gentleman, in the very pink of the fashion, with -all his double chins majestically sunk in swathes of fine -cambric, with ruffles, blue ribbon and a star, with calves -that must have made Kitty’s footmen green with envy, -and shoulders that would have been remarkable in a -guardsman, advanced, stepping with the inimitable -carriage of the great.</p> - -<p>Again an hysterical burst of laughter rose in Molly’s -throat. The next moment she pinched the arm of the -young naval gentleman so fiercely that he turned in -alarm.</p> - -<p>“What is the matter?”</p> - -<p>“I am swooning!” said Molly with a gasp, and swoon -she did, and no mistake about it!</p> - -<p>However cunningly Mr. Stafford might make himself -up, however paint and pad and be-wig himself, strut and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[278]</span> -look majestic, he could not have given to his handsome -brown eyes the dull protruding stare, nor to his features -that thickness which a plethoric habit was inducing in the -heir to the throne; and Mr. Stafford would not have -been escorted by the gentlemen of the Prince’s own suite; -and, most certain of all, he would not have had my Lord -Kilcroney by his side.</p> - -<p>The dreadful discovery flashed upon the unfortunate -Molly with the still more appalling realisation that the -next few minutes must inevitably see the bogus Prince -present himself on the heels of the genuine one; and that -all would be discovered, to the everlasting undoing of -those concerned.</p> - -<p>“Oh, if I have but the time to warn him!” she thought; -when Nemesis overtook her in the shape of that real -swoon.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>“You go on slapping her hands, auntie, while I burn -another feather. Dear, to be sure, don’t she look bad! -Downright silly, I call it, for ladies to be lacing themselves -so tight, and she as thin as a fish to begin with! I -declare, when I cut those green laces, they regular popped.”</p> - -<p>As through layers of swirling mist which both blinded -and deafened her, Mrs. Lafone vaguely caught these -words. Another voice penetrated more sharply to her -growing consciousness.</p> - -<p>“And if you was to pull yourself in a bit, Pamela, -you’d look a deal more genteel. A well-looking girl like -you, with all your advantages and gowned, I will say that -for you, with uncommon taste, to go about with such a -milkmaid figure! I’d drink a tablespoonful of white -vinegar night and morning, if I was you. Drat! How -green she do keep! Slap a bit harder, child. I’m all -of a dither to get into that little balcony that overlooks -the supper-room, and see my Lady and His Highness -and all.”</p> - -<p>“A balcony, is there?” Pamela’s pleasant accents -questioned.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[279]</span>“Yes, my dear, and you can come along with me, once -we get the life back into Madam. A minstrels’ gallery -they call it, overlooking the hall. Oh, I had a peep just -now when I ran for the hartshorn. ’Tis the elegantest -spectacle you ever saw; to look down on the supper -table was like fairyland. Ain’t she sighed? She was -always an aggravating piece,” said the elder Miss Pounce -with some asperity.</p> - -<p>Molly lay with closed eyes and fully recovered wits. -She was debating whether to prolong the fit and let herself -be carried back seemingly unconscious to her lodgings, -would not be the best way out of an unpleasant dilemma. -It would annoy these two impertinent females: that was -an added advantage.</p> - -<p>“Was they already at table when you looked in on -them, auntie?” asked Madame Mirabel’s partner, between -two brisk smacks of Mrs. Lafone’s palm.</p> - -<p>“They was, my dear. Well, since there don’t seem -to be a mite of use trying to get her to swallow anything, -I’ll have that drop of ratafia myself. It sort of turns -me to see people that colour—they was all a-sitting round -the supper table, His Highness beside my Lady, and my -Lord with Lady Flo, and just the rest of my Lady’s -intimates. The supper table looking beautiful with the -best gold plate. And them red, red roses my Lady paid -such a sum for. And the Prince’s top-knot shining lovely, -and your wreath—’twas the naturallest thing; you could -have sworn the dew had just fallen on it! But my Lady -Anne’s blue turban’s a trifle heavy for my taste, Pam. -She was a-sitting rather glum, I thought, but perhaps -that was because she didn’t have her gentleman.”</p> - -<p>“Her gentleman?”</p> - -<p>“My Lady was counting on Mr. Stafford——”</p> - -<p>There was a double cry.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Stafford!” screamed Pamela and Mrs. Lafone -together. Pamela dropped the hand she was slapping -with such good will, and Mrs. Lafone sat bolt upright.</p> - -<p>“Did you say my Lady was expecting Mr. Stafford?”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[280]</span> -asked Pamela. She was in such amazement she could -not give a thought to the patient’s miraculous recovery.</p> - -<p>“Well, and upon my word, and why should not my -Lady invite Mr. Stafford? What’s took you? And as -for you, ma’am, if ever I see a lady come out of a swound -as you have sudden-like this minute——”</p> - -<p>But the invalid interrupted, rising to her feet, clasping -her dishevelled head with both hands, and staring from -one to the other, as if she or they were mad.</p> - -<p>“When was Mr. Stafford invited? What do you -know about his having been expected? Heavens, -woman, answer me! ’Tis a matter of life and death -for me.”</p> - -<p>“Mercy on us! Shall you be giving us the screaming -vapours next, ma’am? I happen to know—if you must -have it—that my Lady only heard of his presence in -Weymouth at seven of the clock this evening, and nothing -would serve her but he must be sent to that instant -minute.”</p> - -<p>“Take me to the balcony you spoke of,” said Mrs. -Lafone, in an extinct voice.</p> - -<p>Her clothes were hanging off her back, as Lydia shockedly -pointed out; and her hair was a sight for the crows; -and my Lady had only given leave for her own woman -(though she wouldn’t mind Pam); Lydia felt sure she -wouldn’t, so to speak, care about people as isn’t asked to -the supper party, spying on His Highness in that common -kind of way!</p> - -<p>But Mrs. Lafone produced a gold piece with so much -promptitude that her bodice was pinned together, her -mantle brought, and her still tottering steps guided to -the upper passage and to the gallery in a remarkably -short space of time. The balcony was filled with palms -and flowering plants. If anyone had thought of looking -up, and chanced to see the narrow, white face and fiery -eyes peering down at them, they might have thought -some witch had flown in on her broomstick to cast a baleful -spell upon the cheerful company.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[281]</span>The two Miss Pounces quite forgot their uncomfortable -companion in the thrilling interest of the scene. Lively -were the whispers they exchanged across the stem of a -stout tree fern.</p> - -<p>“La, aunt, if that isn’t Mr. Stafford down there, as -cool as a cucumber! Well, to be sure; ain’t the world -a strange place?”</p> - -<p>“Cool he always was, as nobody knows better than -me. The way he on and off with that poor piece, Madame -Eglantine, when she kept a milliner’s shop at Bath, and -proposing to my Lady all the while, and she the rich -widow Bellairs. Well—cucumbers was not in it.”</p> - -<p>Pamela Pounce was craning eagerly forward. Certainly -to see Mr. Stafford <i>in propria persona</i> sitting -genially in the company of the Prince, the guest of my -Lady Kilcroney, after conspiring to humiliate and confound -her, was the last development she had expected of -the night’s drama.</p> - -<p>That my Lord Kilcroney should be playing host to the -wife who had with contumely dismissed him was another -matter, Miss Pamela Pounce was by no means so amazed -to see him sitting at the supper table as Mrs. Lafone had -been to see him walk in.</p> - -<p>“The little cat,” thought Pam, “’twas a real fit, sure -enough, and serve her right. She ain’t succeeded this -time—though she came near enough to it—in separating -the elegantest couple in all society. What a good thing -it is, Pam my girl,” (she was fond of apostrophising herself -thus) “that you ain’t too squeamish to do a bit of -spying in season and listen outside doors.”</p> - -<p>“His Royal Highness is taking a glass of wine with Mr. -Stafford,” whispered Lydia sibilantly, in a prodigious -state of excitement.</p> - -<p>Pamela felt an abrupt movement beside her, and -glancing round, beheld Mrs. Lafone darting from the -gallery like a snake disturbed. The girl drew a long -breath. The air was easier to her lungs now that this -miasma of malice was removed from it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[282]</span>His Royal Highness was most agreeably and flatteringly -inebriated at the end of Kitty’s supper party. He declared -thickly that it had been a most delightful evening. -If he did not salute her cheek with his royal lips as he had -saluted the Duchess of Hampshire, he mumbled her hand -with repeated kisses. But Kitty’s triumph was not yet -complete. Its culminating point was only reached when -she found herself with my Lord back in the withdrawing-room -of her lodgings, accompanied on her express invitation, -by Mr. Stafford.</p> - -<p>She flung off her wraps and, standing in the middle of -the room, with rather a tearful smile, held out a hand to -each.</p> - -<p>“Denis, my love—Stafford, my old friend—we have, -each of us, I dare say, things against each other to forgive -and forget, but for my part ’tis all done with already.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, my Lady Kilcroney. Ah, Kitty!” cried the -Beau, moved out of his wont, and pressing the little hand -against his breast, before lifting it to his lips, “When I -received your note warning me of the ass I would be -making of myself in trying to get the better of you, I -thought—dash me, I thought—there’s not a woman in -the world to compare to her for generosity and wit! And -how, in the name of God, did you know, Kitty?” he -cried, with a change of tone. “’Pon my soul, never tell -me that piece, Molly, betrayed me for an invitation?”</p> - -<p>“By no means, sir, the invitation was sent to her—well! -as a little punishment. She came all agog to see -my discomfiture, and Lydia, my woman, tells me she was -so overset at the sight of His Highness that she swooned.”</p> - -<p>My Lord by this time had an arm about his wife’s -waist.</p> - -<p>“’Twas I told me wife,” said he in his richest brogue, -“of your dastardly plot, me fine fellow.”</p> - -<p>“You?”</p> - -<p>“Ay, meself and no other.”</p> - -<p>“But this is mystery upon mystery,” said Mr. Stafford, -and he was really mystified.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[283]</span>“A little bird told me,” said Kilcroney, wagging his -head.</p> - -<p>Kitty interrupted, laughing.</p> - -<p>“Aye, and by the way, my Lord, ring the bell and send -Pompey for that very little bird. She must not go unrewarded.”</p> - -<p>“She?” repeated Mr. Stafford. His eyebrows went -up. He was perhaps not altogether amazed to see Pamela -Pounce walk into the room.</p> - -<p>“Come here, child,” said my Lady, and picked from -her bodice a pretty, sparkling brooch. “Wear this for -my sake in remembrance of to-night. As for me,” her -light voice deepened, “I shall never forget your good -sense and courage. She guessed you were planning some -mischief with your charming sister-in-law, Mr. Stafford, -sir, and having to tie her bandboxes outside the door, she -caught some whispers of your little game.”</p> - -<p>“Oho!” said Mr. Stafford.</p> - -<p>“I listened,” cried Pamela with flaming cheeks, “and -I went straight to my Lord here and my Lord——”</p> - -<p>Here my Lord himself took up the tale, his lazy, pleasant -voice creaming forth in contrast to the excited tones of -the young milliner.</p> - -<p>“And faith, bad husband as I am—troth, sure it’s the -worst in the world—there was but one thing for me to do, -and that was to protect me wife. So I went to His Royal -Highness and did a little bit of coaxing—not that he needed -much. God bless him, isn’t he always ready to condescend -to be entertained? And I got him to promise easy -enough to come in to supper after his royal parents had -gone to bed. And then I wrote a line to my Lady and -asked her permission to bring the Prince, and by the same -token I told her about your fine scheme of counterfeit. -Sure, I knew my Lady could be trusted to deal with that.”</p> - -<p>“Denis,” said Kitty. “There was an infamous note -I sent you on pink paper. Have you got it about you?”</p> - -<p>He gave her a grim look, inserted two fingers into his -waistcoat pocket, and drew it forth.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[284]</span>“Give it back to me, my dear love.”</p> - -<p>“Why, I was thinking ’twouldn’t be a bad token for -me to keep about me, lest I should be meeting some -sorrowful young creature that wanted comforting on a -parade——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, my Lord, don’t mock me.”</p> - -<p>She twitched it from his hand and began to tear it into -a hundred shreds. Then, between laughing and crying, -she gathered in her turn a little note from her bosom.</p> - -<p>“’Tis you that are generous, ’tis you that are forgiving, -my Lord. How could I keep up petty malice, Mr. Stafford -when my Denis had treated me so gallant? This letter,” -cried Kitty, kissing it, “shall be my treasure till I die.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[285]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XV</h2> - -<p class="ph1"><span class="smcap">In which the Mad Brat takes the Bit between<br> -Her Teeth, but Miss Pamela Pounce Keeps Hold<br> -of the Reins</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> first stage between Weymouth and London brought -Miss Pamela Pounce to Blandford where she intended to -pass the night. She had spent an agreeable and lucrative -week at Weymouth, whither the presence of Royalty -had brought a host of fashionables, and where it had -been easy for her to dispose of all the modish hats and -heads, caps and toques which she had selected to tempt -holiday appetites.</p> - -<p>With a light conscience and heavy pockets, therefore, -Pamela was setting off for London in finest spirits. She -had brought more than her usual zest to this journey -who always enjoyed travelling to the full; the movement, -the change of scene, the bustle at arrival and -departure, the choice of the night’s lodging, the chance -adventure, the shifting company, all stimulated, interested, -delighted her. She could take care of herself, -and had no fear, either of the rare highwayman, or of the -intrusive gallant.</p> - -<p>The “Rover” deposited its burden with a fine flourish -of horn and whip and clatter of hoofs, tick on time, in -the cobbled courtyard of the Crown Inn at Blandford.</p> - -<p>Six of the clock had just been huskily beaten out -behind the great white dial that surmounted the celebrated -stables. The jolly coachman turned half round -in his seat, and winked at the gentleman in the many-caped -roquelaure who had entertained him with such<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[286]</span> -racy gossip for five hours that day, and who had not -failed moreover, to season their conversation with a -brimmer at every halting place.</p> - -<p>“What do you think o’ that for punctuality, my -Lord?”</p> - -<p>Now “my Lord” was a mere fluke—shot at quality, -but for once it had hit the bull’s eye.</p> - -<p>The traveller, descending with care from the coach -(for the last tankard had been tightly laced and required -some carrying) was nearly run into by a brisk young -lady in a grey riding coat, and black satin hat, who -exclaimed genteelly: “To be sure, sir, I crave your -pardon!” And then cried: “My Lord Kilcroney, is it -indeed you!”</p> - -<p>“Why, ’tis never Miss Pounce!” exclaimed my Lord, -surveying her, as if the last thing wanting to his joviality -had now been granted him by Fate. And, indeed, not -only was Pamela Pounce vastly pleasing to look upon—she -had something of the firmness, the clear red-and-white -and the general appetising appearance of a white-heart -cherry—but she was vastly agreeable company too, as -he had found out on more than one occasion. Added to -which, she had recently done him a very good turn with -his lady, as sometimes comes in the way of milliners and -such like who collect back-door gossip, and exercise back-door -influence. Withal, which certainly spoilt nothing, -she was a young person of merit; virtuous, responsible, -and discreet. My Lord knew that she would take at -their proper value any little compliment or other expression -of esteem, such as the squeeze of a trim waist, -an absent-minded clasp of taper fingers, even a snatched -kiss. He might get a box on the ear; he would never be -treated either to outraged sensibility, or—still more -inconvenient contingency—an undesired responsiveness.</p> - -<p>He held Miss Pounce’s hand, and smiled down into her -bright face with something approaching enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>“Split me, my dear, but this is a piece of good luck. -And I who thought I’d be all at my lonesome over——”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[287]</span> -he stopped, and sniffed. “What is it?—the beef-steak -pudding, and the roast capons to-night. I invite you -to supper with me, Pamela. I sent my rascal ahead to -bespeak the little oak parlour on the garden, and——”</p> - -<p>“Thanking you kindly, my Lord,” said Miss Pounce, -disengaging her hand, and speaking with great firmness, -“I dine with no gentleman in the back parlour.”</p> - -<p>His merry face fell.</p> - -<p>“How now, so prudish?”</p> - -<p>“Nay, my Lord, merely prudent. ’Tis as much as -my reputation is worth. The ladies wouldn’t like it. -No, nor the landladies. The common room is best for -a common working girl like me.”</p> - -<p>“My dear,” said Lord Kilcroney, “’tis an uncommon -girl you are. You’re in the right of it a thousand -times. Faith, my Lady would be ready to tear the wig -from my head if she heard of it!”</p> - -<p>“And she’d tear my hats from hers, and that would -be vastly the greater calamity of the two, forgive me for -saying so, my Lord.”</p> - -<p>“See here,” said he, “I’ll face the bagmen for the -pleasure of your conversation, for, odd’s my life, you’ve -a sparkle about you that’s as good as champagne after -the dreary road! I’ll tell them to lay your place beside -mine in the coffee-room, and you’ll season my supper to -me with that spicy tongue of yours.”</p> - -<p>Pamela said she was a poor girl, and she hoped she -knew her place, that my Lord was vastly condescending, -and that she’d have to take what seat was given her; -which remarks, my Lord, rightly understanding to be an -oblique acceptance, greeted with laughter and applause, -and went gaily towards the inn after her, admiring her -generous, well-knit shape, and taking off his hat with a -mock flourish as she modestly stood back to let him enter -first.</p> - -<p>The summer evening was warm, and the odours of -viands potent in the coffee-room. The tables were -crowded; there was an immense buzz of voices, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[288]</span> -clatter of knives and forks, and a running to and fro of -aproned drawers, and sturdy bare-armed wenches.</p> - -<p>Pamela stood at the door, and looked in discontentedly. -She was as little squeamish as any healthy young -woman of her class; she left “vapours” and “qualms” -to her betters. But the long day had tired her, and -there was my Lord, with his wig askew, and a couple of -bottles before him, and an air of having already done -some justice to them. It was all very well to have -chosen the propriety of the public room, but it might -have its drawbacks. A poor girl never knew what -spiteful eyes might be watching. It would do her no -good if some loose tongue were to start a bit of scandal -about her: “Miss Pamela Pounce behaving shameful -with my Lord Kilcroney, as brazen as you like, before -everybody.” It would always be, of course, the poor -girl who behaved shameful, never the half-tipsy nobleman. -Such is the way of the world.</p> - -<p>“And as like as not,” went on Pamela to herself—she -had a vivid and swift imagination—“the next thing will -be: ‘They left Weymouth together. ’Twas a regular -elopement.’ No, thank you, Pamela, my girl. It ain’t -good enough for us to sit next to my Lord in his cups, and -eat beef-steak pudding—a dish I never was partial to—on -a hot night—and lose my character to boot.”</p> - -<p>She whisked round and out through the luggage-piled -hall into the yard, where, by the gate which gave upon -the river meadow, she had marked a bench erected round -an old tree stump.</p> - -<p>“I’ll sit here,” resolved Miss Pounce, suiting the -action to the thought. “And, by and by, when those -creatures have done gorging within, I’ll have a little -supper by my own. Lord, how vastly more pleasant it -is out here!”</p> - -<p>She drew a long breath, inhaling the air, sweet with -the near fragrance of honeysuckle, and distant scents of -ripe corn. She clasped her hands on her knees—those -busy, clever hands which so seldom rested—and gazed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[289]</span> -dreamily out upon the scene. It made a pleasant picture; -the red-tiled roof of the stables was beginning -to glow in the warm evening light; the irregular outline -of the old inn, already in shadow, was cut darkly -against the limpid blue of the sky; white and grey -pigeons flitted lazily hither and thither. From within -the open stable doors came peaceful sounds of munching -jaws, rattling chains, and now and again a stamping -hoof. A fat tortoiseshell cat sat licking herself on a -window sill. There was not a human creature in sight -for the moment, and Miss Pounce felt quite poetic.</p> - -<p>But she was not destined to be indulged long in her -rare mood for solitude. There came a clatter of hoofs, -a hum of wheels along the dusty road. A high curricle -swung into the yard, at the raking trot of a tall chestnut -driven by a reckless hand. It was drawn up with a -splash of protesting hoofs; and Pamela, suddenly pricked -to interest, beheld, springing unaided from the high -perch, the young lady whose erratic conduct had earned -for her the sobriquet of “the Mad Brat,” Lady Selina, -who had scandalised society, outraged her Royal patrons, -alienated her friends, and positively stupefied her family -a bare three months ago by eloping, from the very back -of the Princess’s chair at the Opera, with a penniless -insignificant officer of Marines of the name of Simpson. -Lady Selina Simpson’s further career, though necessarily -passed in comparative obscurity, had done little to lessen -the aptness of the sobriquet. Much the contrary, indeed, -and—Lieutenant Simpson being stationed at Weymouth—Lady -Selina had had an unexpected opportunity for a -display of eccentricity, which made both her elder sisters -agree for once that something must be done to put a -stop to Selina’s goings on—“under the very nose of the -Royals, my dear; she does it on purpose to discredit -us,”—even if something entailed the purchase for -Lieutenant Simpson of some post pleasantly remote in -the Indies.</p> - -<p>Here, then, was the Mad Brat, as naughty and modish<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[290]</span> -as you please (Miss Pamela’s professional eye was quick -to notice); wrapped to the ears in a military looking -cloak of elegant blue, and hatted with as smart a little -beaver, also of military cock, as she, Pamela, had ever -seen—and that was saying a great deal.</p> - -<p>My young Lady Selina’s curls were scarcely powdered, -and shone very golden under the evening light, set in -flying bunches each side of her narrow, pretty, pale, impertinent -face. There was something in the expression -of her countenance, attractive for all its wilfulness, that -made Pamela’s quick wits jump to the horrid conclusion—before -even she had clapped eyes on the driver of the -curricle.</p> - -<p>“Lord! if ever I see the look of one bent on a desperate -course, I see it this minute!” thought the milliner, -turning the glance on Lady Selina’s companion.</p> - -<p>And there it was for you. That black-avised gentleman, -with the bushy black eyebrows, and the small, -restless black eyes beneath, with the blue chin and full, -insolent mouth—that was never young Simpson! “Some -elderly rip, out of the poor lad’s regiment!” diagnosed -Pamela rapidly, seeing the gold-lace glint. “And that -is why my young Madam is so monstrous military herself. -If ever I see an elopement——!”</p> - -<p>And indeed, the two had a flushed and conscious air; -defiant, suspicious.</p> - -<p>“However you may try to brazen it out, your heart’s -as heavy as lead, you poor silly thing,” was the next -conclusion of the watcher. “As for you, you wicked -wretch, you are all ardours and whispers, all swollen -with triumph, yet you aren’t a bit sure of her. There, -now, I knew it—she won’t let you lead her in, with your -arm about her waist; not even let you take her hand. -She’s no notion to have you blazon her your conquest, -for all the Inn company to see. Mercy on us, there’s a -toss of the head! Aye, and here’s a look for you, my -fine gentleman! No—I wouldn’t make too sure of her -yet, if I were you!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[291]</span>The sound of hoofs and wheels, and of the clanging -bell had brought landlord and landlady to the doorway. -Pamela emerged slowly from her leafy retreat. She -had a mind to keep the Mad Brat under observation as -long as she could.</p> - -<p>’Twas a mere child! Pamela knew that she could -scarce have reached her twentieth year; and Pamela -had once herself been mighty near flinging away everything -a woman should hold dear, for a man’s smile. She -had been saved, on the very edge of the precipice, by a -sort of miracle. And she often had shuddered, contemplating -the horrible depth of the chasm into which -she had all but fallen. Did she not now read on the -young wife’s face something of the frantic recklessness -that had once moved her?</p> - -<p>Besides which she had a pride in her sex which made it -personally grievous to her when a woman went wrong. -And lastly, she flattered herself she was a judge of character, -and yonder military buck was a bad, dissipated, -selfish wretch, with no use for a woman but to break -her heart.</p> - -<p>As she entered the hall, discreetly, in the wake of the -new-comers, she found Lady Selina in high wrangle -with her swain.</p> - -<p>“And I say, I will have a post-chaise, Colonel Endacott! -And I protest you’re making a vast mistake! -Pray, Mr. Landlord, a bowl of broth and a glass of wine -in a private parlour—and a post-chaise, with a decent -pair of horses, in an hour. The gentleman will go to the -coffee-room. Yes, sir—you will go to the coffee-room. -Do I hear you curse, sir? La! here is a charming thing, -indeed!”</p> - -<p>Suddenly her eye became fixed, she uttered an exclamation -in a high tone of surprise and excitement.</p> - -<p>“Sir Jasper Standish—as I am a living woman!”</p> - -<p>Pamela then perceived, standing in the doorway of the -coffee-room chewing a gold toothpick, no less a personage -than that dashing widower. He was surveying his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[292]</span> -whilom betrothed and her illicit cavalier with a bantering, -swaggering, insolent air in which there was more than -a glint of jealous anger.</p> - -<p>As Lady Selina hailed him, he tripped forward. “Good -heavens,” reflected the milliner, “I’d slap any man’s -face, gentleman or no, who dared to look at me like that!”</p> - -<p>Colonel Endacott, biting his full under lip, and blackly -scowling, seemed very much of this opinion; but the -Mad Brat extended both hands:</p> - -<p>“Sir Jasper!—well met! ’Tis a vast of pleasure for -me to greet an old friend. Why, here am I, on my road -to London—pray, Colonel Endacott, do you know Sir -Jasper Standish? Gentlemen, let me introduce you: -Colonel Endacott—Sir Jasper Standish. Hearing that -I was about to post to London, Colonel Endacott kindly -offered me a seat in his curricle. My husband’s Colonel, -Sir Jasper. The wife of a poor Lieutenant, it was no -offer to decline! Colonel Endacott, who is really all -condescension and good nature, Sir Jasper, had further -been so obliging as to offer me his escort for the whole -way. But the mischief is in it, we must part at the -first stage! Colonel Endacott will have it he must lie -at Blandford, and I am equally determined to push on!”</p> - -<p>Colonel Endacott ground his high-booted foot on the -flags of the hall, as though he would pulverise the volatile -lady who was so obviously making a mock of him.</p> - -<p>“Why, my dear Lady Selina,” cried Sir Jasper, in a -rich voice of victory, “let me then be your escort! -Fie, fie, you cannot think of travelling alone with a mere -post-boy for protection, and the roads so unsafe. I -could not think of allowing it! So old a friend as I am -may surely be permitted the privilege, the honour, the -duty——”</p> - -<p>“Pray, sir,” interrupted Colonel Endacott, his tones -were husky with rage, “you misunderstand, I think. -Lady Selina Simpson is under my protection. It was -entirely for her sake——” Here he cast a glance of -mingled ardour and fury upon the Mad Brat who tossed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[293]</span> -her head till her ringlets danced and hunched a shoulder -on him in its military cloak, with a taunting glance. -“’Twas but for her sake,” the harsh accents grew raucous, -“that I suggested the night’s rest here. Lady -Selina knows that she had but to speak the word, and -I am ready——”</p> - -<p>“Ah, not at all!—<i>pas du tout!</i>” cried Lady Selina, -who had a French mother and certain inherited French -ways that added not a little to her provoking charm. -“<i>M. le Colonel</i> has made such big eyes at me I am positively -frightened of him! And my dear mamma—do you -know Sir Jasper, my dear widowed mother is at Wimbledon, -and I have half a mind to go see her there—Mamma -would be desolated if I were to travel under the escort of -a gentleman who is not my husband. Since my Frederick -is so tied up in his military duty—yes, you cruel man, -you saw to that! But with Sir Jasper, Mamma knows -Sir Jasper so well! Pray Mistress Landlady, bring me to -a chamber where I can wash the dust off my face. ’Tis -vile travelling in an open curricle. And you, Mr. Landlord, -what of that parlour and that broth? How would -it be, Sir Jasper, if you were to join me over this slight -refection? We could discuss the journey.”</p> - -<p>Sir Jasper drew a long breath through dilated nostrils, -and bowed, the corners of his lips tilting upwards in a -smile of immense complacency. The landlady, who had -been staring at the young Madam with amazement and -disapproval, majestically led the way up the narrow -stairs, expressing by a tremulous shake of her lace-capped -head, and an occasional loud sniff, that such -manners and customs were not to be encouraged on her -premises.</p> - -<p>Pamela Pounce saw the look which Colonel Endacott -cast at the fatuously smirking Sir Jasper.</p> - -<p>“There will be swords drawn over this, before my -Lady Selina has had time to dry that dusty face of hers!” -she thought. “And dear, to goodness, I have it in my -heart to hope it may be Sir Jasper, for if not, it is out of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[294]</span> -the frying-pan into the fire with her, imp of mischief -as she is!”</p> - -<p>Out of the frying-pan into the fire it was. Colonel -Endacott and Sir Jasper strolled, to all appearance, very -amicably together through the meadow gate, in the -direction of a certain hazel copse by the river-side. In a -very short time, Sir Jasper reappeared, alone; and, -strolling back into the stable-yard of the Crown, directed, -with the most genteel coolness, that a couple of ostlers -should take a wheelbarrow and a chair, or maybe a -hurdle, and carry in his friend, who had had an accident -to his leg, and would be found, incapacitated, just beside -yonder little copse. It was not a matter of the least -consequence, he assured them—a mere sprain, a scratch, -or something of the sort.</p> - -<p>The ostlers grinned. He cast a gold piece among them -and passed on, treading jauntily, in quest of the parlour.</p> - -<p>Miss Pounce, eating bread-and-butter and cold meats, -to a modest bowl of milk in the window seat of the now -nearly deserted coffee-room, saw the gallant gentleman’s -return, and understood.</p> - -<p>“’Tis the devil and all,” she thought, “that my Lord -Kilcroney is so free with his bottle; he might be of use -here. If my Lady Selina thinks she can fling off Sir -Jasper as easy as she has her Colonel, she is mighty -mistaken. Such a chance doesn’t come a woman’s way -twice! Silly child, and him with an old score to pay off—and -their starting off by night and all—why, what ails -the creature, to be up to such cantrips?” thought Pamela.</p> - -<p>She bit into her bread-and-butter, and then flung the -slice away from her. “Well, drunk or sober, my Lord -will be better than nobody.”</p> - -<p>Upon this decision Pamela shook the crumbs from her -skirt, set a hand on each hip, and holding her white chin -very high in the air, made a bee line for the snuggery -whence loud sounds of mirth proclaimed the presence -of convivial company.</p> - -<p>Here she found my Lord, with a long clay pipe in one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[295]</span> -hand, and cool tankard in the other, hilariously setting -the tune to a roaring chorus consisting of a lumpish young -squire, a land surveyor and the local doctor. My Lord -was more than exhilarated, as Pamela saw at the first -glance. He went on melodiously chanting and beating -time, while the others, staring at the handsome girl, fell -dumb, and young Squire Pitt, all one purple blush, began -bashfully to draw himself out of his chair.</p> - -<p>“My Lord—my Lord Kilcroney!” began Pamela -with an unwonted sense of discomfiture, “I crave a word -apart with your Lordship.”</p> - -<p>But before she could make her voice heard, she was -unceremoniously thrust aside by Mr. Landlord himself.</p> - -<p>“And, craving <i>your</i> pardon,” he chided, “this is no -place for young gals. Doctor Dawson, sir, you’re -wanted.”</p> - -<p>A dark man in a scratch wig, with a long bony face, -and a restless protruding jaw, jumped up from his corner, -and came forward.</p> - -<p>“What’s happened?” quoth he, feeling about his -pockets with big knuckly hands that made Pamela -shudder.</p> - -<p>“Why, will you step outside, sir. Gentleman hurt -through the leg.”</p> - -<p>“Odds my bones, I’ve left it at home. You’ll have to -send little Jimmy for my instrument-case. What’s -happened, I say?”</p> - -<p>The landlord wagged his head slyly, pinching his lips -together, and made a thrusting gesture with his right -forefinger; then he tapped the same finger on the side -of his rubicund nose.</p> - -<p>The doctor gave a short laugh; and, with a not altogether -steady step, suffered himself to be led down the -passage.</p> - -<p>Lord Kilcroney imitated the double gesture with his -pipe-stem and sprang to his feet.</p> - -<p>“Now, glory be to God,” said he, “if I had known -there was such a diversion on hand——” Here he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[296]</span> -seemed suddenly to become aware that Miss Pounce’s -presence in the snuggery portended something distinctly -unusual. As he stared at her with a flicker of returning -acuteness in his amiable eye, she seized the opportunity.</p> - -<p>“For God’s sake, my Lord, give me a moment apart.”</p> - -<p>He lurched towards her; and she seized him by the lapel -of his coat; again he looked at her; caught perhaps something -of the urgency of her spirit, and said, in altered -tones:</p> - -<p>“Wait a minute, me girl, I’ll just drain the tankard to -steady my head; and I am with you.”</p> - -<p>She got him as far as the window seat in the coffee-room; -and then, casting a glance without, exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“See for yourself. Turn your eye yonder, and see for -yourself.”</p> - -<p>Lord Kilcroney flung a bewildered gaze in the direction -of her pointed finger; opened his mouth, closed it again -and wiped his forehead.</p> - -<p>“Jasper! Jasper Standish and a lady, as I live! -What the dev——”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you know the lady, my Lord? See now, see -now, with the lamplight on her face. She is getting into -the chaise. Don’t you recognise Lady Selina Simpson?”</p> - -<p>“Se—Selina Simpson!” echoed he with a fine tipsy -sibilance. He let himself fall on the window seat, and -gripped his head in both hands. “S—Selina?”</p> - -<p>“The Mad Brat, my Lord! Good God, we are too -late, the chaise is driving away! This will be fine hearing -for my Lady Verney, and for your lady’s own dear -friend, Lady Nan!”</p> - -<p>Lord Kilcroney dropped his hands and sat, with protruding -eyeballs, staring at Pamela. Then his waistcoat -was shaken with a rumbling laugh; and he made an uncertain -poke with his forefinger.</p> - -<p>“And, is it poor Simpson, then, that’s in the claws of -that old red raven of a doctor this minute? And my -Lady off with Jasper? D’ye know, it’s a monstrous joke! -Oh, Gad—Jasper was her first love!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[297]</span>Pamela flung a single searching look upon him. He -was muttering to himself, and laughing, winking, and -shaking his head, the picture of affable inebriety.</p> - -<p>“My Lord, my Lord, you must pull yourself together! -Lady Selina is not twenty yet. And him such a bold, -bad man, as indeed you know, my Lord. ’Tis ruin, ’tis -disgrace, for her, and that poor innocent lad, her husband!”</p> - -<p>“By the powers!” Kilcroney staggered to his feet. -“Jasper’s a scoundrel! I’ll not have it! What, Nan -Day’s little sister, mere child—monstrous! Get me a -wet napkin, girl.”</p> - -<p>He plucked his wig from his head as he spoke, and -looked, Pamela thought, singularly boyish with his close-cropped -red poll exposed to view. Even as she hurried -out to summon the drawer, a brilliant idea struck her.</p> - -<p>Colonel Endacott’s curricle, and a fresh horse! With -anything of a roadster, so light a vehicle should easily -overtake the post-chaise. ’Twas a plan of retributive -justice which pleased Miss Pounce hugely.</p> - -<p>What woman wills, God wills, is an adage invented by -some sycophantic admirer of the fair sex. Nevertheless, -there is no doubt that the world is apt to give way before -anyone with determined purpose, and, if this anyone -happens to be young, handsome, and a woman, the odds -are overwhelmingly in her favour. Pamela ordered, -cajoled, reasoned, implored, bustled, taunted and threatened. -She made lavish, yet judicious, use of her Weymouth -earnings; and before the half-hour was out, found -herself, high-perched by the side of my Lord (a strange -figure, with the wet napkin still tied round his head), -driving—as the group of ostlers who watched him depart -unanimously declared with much admiration—like hell.</p> - -<p>It was one of those summer nights when scarce a leaf -stirs; there was not a cloud upon the sky which stretched -a wonderful amethyst blue, deepening to sapphire at the -zenith, and paling into translucent primrose to the west, -where the last traces of the afterglow still lingered. -There would be a fine moon presently, had been the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[298]</span> -landlord’s parting words, as he respectfully deposited his -Lordship’s wig, hat and pistol case in the curricle. The -streets of the sleepy little town were clatteringly left -behind; the steep hill surmounted; and then the Salisbury -road lay before them, straight and white across the grey -mystery of the downs.</p> - -<p>Pamela thought it was the strangest night vision she -had ever beheld. The earth seemed as featureless as -the sky; the winds, which had slept in the valley, were -lively enough here, as if the earth were their playground. -There was a wonderful harvest smell, warm and wholesome, -of ripening apples and full corn-fields, in the air—a -great, mellow, sweet aroma from the fertile fields and -farms that lay below the down lands.</p> - -<p>Pamela was not romantic, yet she could not but feel -that it was “as good as play-acting” to be hurled through -the summer night across this vast peaceful loneliness, -by this same mad, kind, fantastic Irish lord whose odd -adventures were always the talk of the town.</p> - -<p>“A stern chase is a long chase,” observed the nobleman, -dexterously tipping the flanks of the big bay.</p> - -<p>The horse bounded, and the curricle rocked; and -Pamela choked a scream. Over the crest of the down -a huge red moon began to show her face, swimming in a -curious misty incandescence. She sucked in her breath, -and her heart stirred sentimentally. If only the man of -her choice had been sitting beside her, how vastly she -would have enjoyed herself!</p> - -<p>They swung through the shadows of a copse and out into -the open again. My Lord cast his napkin into the road; -he begged Pamela to lend him a hand with his wig. The -black horse had fallen to a foot pace up the steep incline, -and my Lord, with returning sobriety, began apparently -to consider the kind of undertaking into which he had -plunged, and how to carry it through.</p> - -<p>“We’ll not,” said he, gliding into speed again with the -care of the practised whip, “overhaul them much before -Salisbury.” Then the moonlight caught his face, showed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[299]</span> -his quizzical smile, and the rueful questioning of his eyes, -as he went on: “And what the dickens am I to say, when -we do? Split me, Miss Pounce, you’ve rushed me into -a pretty kettle of fish! Bejabers, what in the world is it -to me all said and done, that Jasper should be off with -that little lady?”</p> - -<p>“Oh fie, my Lord——” began Pamela warmly. But he -interrupted her:</p> - -<p>“Well, well, never fear, ’tis as good an excuse as -another for a bit of fun. Faith, didn’t my Lady tell me -the other day, it was the regular old gentleman I was -growing into!”</p> - -<p>He caught her absently by the waist, as he spoke, -laughing as the vehicle swerved; and Pamela found -herself again wishing for the company of the dark-browed -slim young gentleman to whom she had given her heart, -and who—Mr. Jocelyn had such sensibility—would have -understood the really grave nature of this seemingly -mad quest.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>It was after two hours’ steady chase, even as the road -dipped from the downs into the valley, back again into -the corn-fields—these had a marvellous silver and amber -glow in the moonlight—that they saw, half a furlong -away, the black bulk of a moving vehicle, and heard the -double clatter of leisurely trotting horses.</p> - -<p>“’Tis but another farm waggon,” quoth my Lord.</p> - -<p>“Nay,” cried Pamela, “for I see the bobbing of the -post-boy, plain as plain.”</p> - -<p>“Do you, indeed, my dear?” cried my Lord in exhilarated -accents, handling the reins with a zest that sent -the horse forward with a great impetus. “You haven’t -dathered your sight with the Crown’s noted treble ale. -Well, if this isn’t the fun of the world! I’ve stopped a -coach before, my dear—that in your ear—but split me, -never from a curricle, with a monstrous fine girl beside -me!”</p> - -<p>“I’m a farmer’s daughter,” she said resolutely, “and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[300]</span> -can manage a horse with anyone. So I can take the -reins, my Lord, when you want your hands free.”</p> - -<p>“’Pon me sowl!” ejaculated Kilcroney admiringly. -But he proceeded no further, for the black horse, gathering -speed, and excited by the clatter of rival hoofs, made a -dash forward, and my Lord, with voice and cracking lash, -encouraged the canter to a gallop.</p> - -<p>The post-boy started from his jogging trance, looked over -his shoulder and hastily pulled to one side. The curricle -went by at a flash; my Lord never slackened speed till they -had reached the bottom of the hill and a bit beyond.</p> - -<p>“Now,” said Kilcroney, as he manœuvred the curricle -right across the road, “now for the fun of the fair! -Just put your lovely hand under the seat and see if you -can lay a hould of me pistols.”</p> - -<p>(My Lord’s brogue became agreeably marked in moments -of emotion.)</p> - -<p>The black horse was dancing from hoof to hoof; the -curricle swayed rhythmically to his capers, and Pamela -felt, when her companion plucked the pistols from the -case she held open, as if every fibre of her being were -dancing in unison; exhilaration, a sense of splendid -adventure, a spice of fear, and a delightful recklessness -had hold of her. She almost understood now how the -“Mad Brat” could fling everything to the winds for the -mere taste of such a moment. Lord Kilcroney thrust -the reins into her hands, leaped lightly from his perch; -and he, too, seemed to dance in the moonlight as he -advanced towards the chaise.</p> - -<p>The post-boy had prudently pulled up at sight of the -obstacle in the road; now, as the pistol barrels glinted in -the moonlight, he raised a dismal shout, and dived sideways -off the fat grey haunches of his mount. The landlord -of the Crown had provided a stalwart plodding pair -for Lady Selina’s post-chaise; and these were content -enough to draw breath, craning their necks, snorting -comfortably down their nostrils, and shuddering in turn -till the harness rattled.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[301]</span>“How now!” cried an angry voice from the chaise, -and Sir Jasper’s head emerged into the moonlight. -“What’s the matter? rascal, scamp! Hallo, stap me!” -This in quite another tone. “Why, the devil—’tis a -highwayman, a footpad!”</p> - -<p>Kilcroney, who had planted himself sideways, with -face concealed by his extended arm, chaunted in the most -musical tones he could muster:</p> - -<p>“Stand and deliver!” Then, breaking into laughter, -he disclosed his countenance, with a fine flourish -of his mantons; “Stand and deliver,” he repeated. -“Jasper, stand and deliver your stolen goods!”</p> - -<p>There was a faint cry within the chaise, altogether lost -in the round volley of oaths from Sir Jasper. He consigned -Kilcroney’s soul to perdition, and his body to -corruption, with explicitness and repetition, and commanded -the post-boy to remount and carry on, if he did -not wish to be flayed alive. But the sagacious youth -was apparently swallowed in the darkness.</p> - -<p>Presently Kilcroney’s shouts of laughter were echoed -in silver titters both from the chaise and the curricle. -These sounds goaded the baronet to madness. “Poor -Jasper!” (Kilcroney afterwards related) “He was -foaming like a tankard of porter, and was almost as black -in the face, by Jingo, when he lepped from the chaise and -at me. Troth, he had his sword out, and sure the next -moment he would have let the moonlight through me, -hadn’t my little lady in the chaise caught him by the -skirts of his coat! It was the grand slap he came on the -flint of the road—aye, and the grand escape I had of it -intirely! ‘Up with you, me boy, and we’ll have it out -like gentlemen,’ cries I, and by the time he got up again -I was ready for him, as pretty as Angelo, with the barkers -back in my pocket and my little bodkin taking the air -in my hand.”</p> - -<p>It was not the first time that my Lord Kilcroney and -Sir Jasper had crossed blades. Indeed, Kilcroney’s -mercurial temperament, and Sir Jasper’s inflammably<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[302]</span> -jealous one, had come into collision more than once. In -the last encounter the Irishman had had the worst of it; -but to-night, whatever disability the day’s potations -might have caused him was more than counter-balanced -by the blind rage which possessed the baronet as he fell -to his guard.</p> - -<p>Perhaps Sir Jasper had been already in none too good a -temper when the novel highwayman had arrested him in -the full course of elopement, certainly the countenance -with which his Helen watched the encounter from the -chaise window displayed more entertainment than -anxiety. In fact, when Sir Jasper, receiving a neat -thrust through his sword arm, fell back with a curse and -a groan, it was Pamela who cried out in alarm, while -Lady Selina shrilly laughed and clapped her hands.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>An odd little procession towards midnight roused the -slumbers of the Mitre Inn at Salisbury, with peremptory -summons. Two ladies in a post-chaise, escorted by two -gentlemen in a curricle. The ladies seemed to be in high -dudgeon with each other. The gentlemen very friendly. -Indeed, the younger and better-looking of the two (though -both were personable men) was distinctly assiduous in -his attention to the other, who had (as the landlord was -duly informed) met with a nasty accident through the -overturning of the curricle at a sharp corner, which robbed -him of the use of his right arm.</p> - -<p>The post-boy had a curious tale to tell over a restoring -mug of ale. But so scared and bewildered did he appear; -so monstrous a jumble did he make of highwaymen and -duels, that the landlord, who was a sensible man, diagnosed -pure coward’s flim-flams, and promptly dismissed -him to his straw.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Pamela slept late. She had been allotted the dressing-room -of the superior bed-chamber which she had herself -claimed for Lady Selina. Her last thought, as she -snuggled down in the feather bed, had been: “I’ve got<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[303]</span> -her safe, the little fool!” and the first that bore into her -consciousness in the morning was the same comforting -reflection: “I’ve got her safe.”</p> - -<p>Angry words had passed between the two women in -the chaise last night. Though Pamela had been unable -to make head or tail of the arguments produced by the -“Mad Brat” to justify her conduct, every word had -revealed a childish inconsequence.</p> - -<p>“One would say,” thought the milliner, as she lay, -reflecting on her impressions, “that the silly chit had -laid some wager, or was pretending to be wicked for the -mere show off of the thing. For, if ever I saw a gentleman -set down, it was Sir Jasper last night! In my opinion -he was mortal glad to be out of it at the price. Never -saw him so loving with my Lord! And, as for her, she -looked at him like a wild cat, as she passed him by, on the -way to her room.”</p> - -<p>Pamela sat on the edge of her bed, yawned, and gazed -at the door which separated her from Lady Selina’s -apartment, congratulating herself that, so old-fashioned -was the hostelry, there was no other issue. But, as she -looked, the smile faded from her face. The door was not -quite closed! She remembered very well how my Lady -Selina had banged and bolted it last night, intimating -thereby, better than by any speech, what she thought -of the intrusive proximity of the milliner.</p> - -<p>“It’s not possible——!” On the spur of suspicion, -Pamela was out of bed and into the next room at a spring. -Sunshine was pouring in between the open shutters; -the great four-post bed was empty. There was no trace -of the fair delinquent, save a long gauntletted glove on -the floor.</p> - -<p>“Well, of all—of all the minxes!” Miss Pounce -pivoted on herself. “Pamela, my girl, you’re fooled! -And you such a light sleeper, to think you should have -slept so deep and let the bird fly!”</p> - -<p>She ran back to her own room and, after ringing the -bell violently, proceeded like a hurricane to her toilet.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[304]</span> -Cold water and yellow soap were good enough for her any -day. The service at the Mitre seemed scarce like to add -to its reputation. Miss Pounce was well advanced, -indeed she had reached the stage of buttoning her trim -figure into the grey riding coat, before the repeated -attacks on the bell-pull produced a panting housemaid.</p> - -<p>“Oh, please, Miss,” began this damsel volubly, “was -you ringing? I was kept by the gentlemen in Blue -Parrot, helping the gentleman to bind the other gentleman’s -arm, what hurt himself. And that there post-boy -was not so far out, for if ever I see a sword cut——”</p> - -<p>Pamela interrupted with an ejaculation of relief.</p> - -<p>“Sir Jasper is still in the inn, then? And my Lord, -too?”</p> - -<p>“Aye, Miss——”</p> - -<p>“And the lady?”</p> - -<p>“The lady’s been gone this hour, Miss. Oh, aye, she -went off with the other gentleman——”</p> - -<p>“What——?” shrieked Pamela.</p> - -<p>“Oh, aye, Miss! The handsome, dark gentleman -what travelled all the way from London to meet her. -Last night, when he came riding in, missis and all of us -agreed, we never saw a handsomer gentleman. ‘I expect,’ -says he, ‘a lady by coach from Weymouth.’” -She stopped to stare: “Be’n’t you well, Miss?”</p> - -<p>Pamela had fallen into a chair. A cold and pricking -fear had laid hold of her. There are premonitions of -the heart which out-leap any perception of the wits.</p> - -<p>“His name, his name!” she gasped.</p> - -<p>“Lud, now!” The girl clacked her tongue. “I did -hear her call him——”</p> - -<p>“Stay!” cried Pamela. “Was it Bellairs?”</p> - -<p>“Lud, Miss,” cried the girl, “however did you know?”</p> - -<p>“Because,” said Miss Pounce sternly, “I am the lady -he came to meet.”</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>With the same deadly composure she ordered a post-chaise, -and started once again in pursuit. This time she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[305]</span> -would have no man’s help. She would go alone. “What -business is it of yours?” had cried Lady Selina insolently, -last night. And she had answered: “It’s every true -woman’s business to keep another straight if she can.” -But now, here was no altruistic interference; here love -and life were at stake for her. Here was her own business -and nobody else’s, with a vengeance!</p> - -<p>Gone this hour! Well, she would overtake them at -Basingstoke, where they must halt of a certainty.</p> - -<p>Pamela had had, in a little purse apart, twenty golden -guineas, her own profit in the successful week’s transactions -in modes at Weymouth. She had meant to add -them to the comfortable nest of savings which were to -facilitate her marriage with her charming spendthrift. -Now the shining company in the green silk meshes had -already notably dwindled; and at every five miles or so, -Pamela would draw forth a coin and, thrusting her -pretty head out of the window, would hail the post-boy -and hold it up to his sight.</p> - -<p>“Another goldfinch for you, my lad, if you mend your -speed!”</p> - -<p>By the time they reached Basingstoke there were four -sovereigns for the youth; and if he was sweating, it was -nothing to which the horses were doing. They dripped -and trembled and steamed, foam-flecked from mane to -tail. Pamela’s green purse was considerably lighter; -but it had been worth it. The fat dappled greys which -had trotted off with my Lady Selina and Mr. Bellairs that -morning were even now being led out of the shafts. A -comfortable trot they had come at, to judge by their -untroubled appearance.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Miss,” said the formidable-looking landlady who -ruled at the Angel, Basingstoke, and who, no doubt, -found a distinct growth of beard and a bass voice as useful -to her if not more than the support of any man. “A -lady and a gentleman are partaking of refreshment in -the parlour. And what might you be wanting with -them?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[306]</span>Her eye, small and fierce as a wild boar’s, appraised -the new guest up and down.</p> - -<p>Pamela saw that travelling alone she was suspect; -she had an inspiration.</p> - -<p>“I am Lady Selina’s own woman,” she said pertly. -“Her Ladyship expects me. Kindly direct me.”</p> - -<p>She had seen too many lady’s maids not to be able to -play the part: she was now the fashionable Abigail to -the life—plausible, supple, sure of herself; her gaze was -challenging; her air deferential, yet on the verge of -insolence.</p> - -<p>The bearded landlady shrugged her shoulders, and told -the drawer to bring Miss into Britannia.</p> - -<p>“You needn’t knock, young man, I will announce -myself,” said Pamela. She tapped discreetly with her -nails on the panel just beneath the figure with the trident; -then, without waiting for a reply, opened the door.</p> - -<p>In one swift glance she took in the scene: the Mad -Brat did not seem to be getting on any better with Mr. -Bellairs than she had with either her Colonel or her -Baronet. She was seated, her elbows on the table, her -chin in her hand. With frowning brows, a fixed and -angry stare, flushed cheeks and pouting lips, she was the -image of “Beauty in a rage.” Mr. Bellairs was pacing -the room with his hands behind his back; and he, too, -the very incarnation of bad temper.</p> - -<p>The milliner did not give herself time to reflect whether -the obvious tension betokened good or evil for her. She -had to act.</p> - -<p>“If you please, my Lady,” she said, advancing as if -she had been indeed what she represented herself, “you -have forgotten your glove.”</p> - -<p>“Good heavens!” cried Mr. Bellairs. “Pamela!”</p> - -<p>He wheeled in his walk to turn upon the newcomer -a countenance marked with the oddest mixture of discomfiture, -amusement and wrath.</p> - -<p>Lady Selina merely cast a glance from the glove which -Pamela laid before her to the girl’s face, and lifted her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[307]</span> -eyebrows. She had passed from anger to insolence. -Pamela itched to box her ears.</p> - -<p>“I assure you, my dear,” protested Mr. Bellairs in an -ill-assured voice, “that <i>I</i> have forgotten nothing.”</p> - -<p>Pamela understood well enough the intention of the -speech; she smiled scornfully. And when Lady Selina, -just rolling her eyes in his direction, dropped the words: -“Except your manners, sir,” she felt certain the rebuke -had been well deserved.</p> - -<p>Indeed, now that she came to look at him more closely, -she saw a red patch on the olive of his cheek, and guessed -the offence which had called for such a buffet. Oh! she -knew the ways of men; and, to her philosophy, the -gentleman who, thrust into such a position as Mr. Bellairs, -should have failed to take advantage of it, would have -been little less than a milksop. Nevertheless, there had -been defection. It was her, Pamela, whom he had come -to meet—Pamela his affianced, to whom, because of the -very difference in their stations, he owed more delicacy -of attention than if she had been his equal. And he had -let himself be whisked away by the first wanton who -lifted a beckoning finger! Serve her right if he had kissed, -and serve him right if she had slapped! Oh, she knew -the ways of men! But—the ways of the Mad Brat was -still enigma to her. What was this piece of mischief -about? As if to answer the perplexed thought, Lady -Selina suddenly spoke:</p> - -<p>“’Tis positive sickening to think that there is not a -gentleman of the lot who would give a lady his protection -as far as Town, without thrusting his odious attentions -on her!”</p> - -<p>“But my dear, good creature——”</p> - -<p>“I’m not your dear, good creature, sir!” Lady -Selina sprang to her feet and burst into a sudden passion -of tears. “Was ever anyone,” she cried, “so plagued, -so persecuted, so distracted, so unhappy, so—so -abandoned?”</p> - -<p>Pamela again felt an overwhelming conviction that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[308]</span> -here was one merely as naughty and as innocent as a -child.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dear!” she exclaimed, and caught her -forcibly into her own strong warm arms. There was -more than a touch of the mother in Pamela; she never -could bear to leave suffering uncomforted. “Why, in -the name of God, did you leave your own husband?”</p> - -<p>The Mad Brat screamed as if the last word had been a -blow.</p> - -<p>“Oh, oh, my Fred!”</p> - -<p>Pamela cast a look over the bride’s heaving shoulder -at Mr. Bellairs.</p> - -<p>“There, sir!” she said severely, “there’s for you and -your vanity! For you, and the others, who are so ready -to think that any lady who so much as smiles on you is -mad in love with you—and all the while you’re but the -catspaw of her jealousy!”</p> - -<p>“Pamela!” cried Jocelyn Bellairs. He had been -standing, very ill at ease, struggling with the variety of -his emotions. He now broke into laughter which had -yet something of wrath in it. “I’ve been a confounded -fool! And I swear you are an angel! Oh, confusion! -I can’t bear to hear a woman cry. But I must say -Joseph himself would have been tempted by that little—devil, -this morning!”</p> - -<p>“Hush!” cried the milliner, rocking the weeping -Selina as if it had been a baby, but shooting another -glance at Mr. Bellairs which, after all, held more indulgence -than resentment. “Hush, sir! Leave me with -her Ladyship. Go, refresh yourself with a tankard of -cool ale, after your dusty drive—and send the landlady -hither with the hartshorn.”</p> - -<p>If Mr. Bellairs had thought highly of Pamela before, -he now told himself she was the pattern of true women. -He paused but to kiss the firm, capable, white hand she -extended to him, and then hastily closed the door between -himself and those distressing vapours.</p> - -<p>“Now, my dear,” coaxed Pamela, “I see how it is.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[309]</span> -You’ve had a quarrel with that elegant young officer of -yours. You’ve had a quarrel, and you went off in a huff -with that dark, bad old Colonel——”</p> - -<p>Lady Selina shuddered, and stamped her foot; and -inarticulately declared that if she’d had a dagger to her -hand, she’d have stabbed him.</p> - -<p>“Well, Sir Jasper’s done it for you, very neat, in the leg.”</p> - -<p>Selina interrupted with another scream.</p> - -<p>“Sir Jasper? Why, he was worse! Oh, how glad I -was to see My Lord Kilcroney run him through!”</p> - -<p>“I’m sure,” said Pamela, a little dryly, “it is a mercy, -my Lady, I came alone after you and Mr. Bellairs! -Mr. Bellairs is engaged to me, my Lady, and I don’t seem -to fancy a hole in him.”</p> - -<p>Lady Selina was much too absorbed in her own grief -to have a thought to spare for any such trifles. She fell -again into her chair, cast her arms upon the table and -buried her face on them, wailing, in an extravagance of -despair, that her Fred would never forgive her, and that -there was nothing left for her but death.</p> - -<p>“Why, there’s no harm done,” Pamela briskly consoled. -“I’m ready to vouch for you that you’ve travelled -with me, and slept with me——” she broke off. -Her quick ear had caught the sound of certain well-known -accents in the courtyard without.</p> - -<p>“Glory be to God,” my Lord was saying, in his richest -brogue. “Will anyone catch me that young gentleman -by the leg? He’s not safe to be loose. Trip him up, I -tell you, or there’ll be murder done! Come back, -Simpson, you <i>omadhaun</i>!”</p> - -<p>Pamela made a spring for the door; she had said that -she would not have a hole made in her Jocelyn: heaven -knew what catastrophe might not ensue were she not -on the spot to prevent mischief with Bellairs, apt as -tinder, and this young Simpson in his fury! She went -like the wind down the passage, and across the bar, -towards that spot in the courtyard whence arose sounds -of struggle and fierce objurgation.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[310]</span>She found a slim young gentleman in uniform locked in -the embrace of Lord Kilcroney. My Lord was laughing -so considerably that it threatened to invalidate his grip. -The young officer’s countenance shocked Pamela, so disfigured -was it by rage and jealousy.</p> - -<p>Even as she approached he wrenched himself free, and, -leaping forward, all but knocked her down in his blind -rush. Pamela’s body, however, was as well-balanced -as her mind; she propped herself against the Inn porch -and caught the outraged young husband vigorously by -the arm. It was her words which really arrested him.</p> - -<p>“You are looking for Lady Selina, Mr. Simpson, sir; -for your wife? She is waiting for you in the parlour.”</p> - -<p>He stared at her, his lips moving, his eyes starting, his -whole begrimed, unshorn, exhausted countenance stamped -with a wildness of despair.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir.” Pamela slipped her firm clasp down to his -shaky, ice-cold hand; her voice was as soothing as her -touch: “Yes, sir, her Ladyship and I we came here -together. Her Ladyship was good enough to accept my -services on the road. I’m travelling back to business -from Weymouth, it fitted in nicely. And Mr. Jocelyn -Bellairs, coming to meet me at Salisbury—he and I being -an engaged couple, if you will forgive my being so personal—that -fitted in very nicely too, for he escorted us. -Your lady’s very young to be travelling alone, sir——”</p> - -<p>Pamela knew that there is no better defence for the -guilty than to reproach the innocent.</p> - -<p>“There now, me boy,” cried Kilcroney, taking up the -cue, “didn’t I tell you it was the wrong scent you were -after, altogether? Hadn’t ye me word for it that -Colonel Endacott and Jasper had fixed up that little -meeting at Blandford ever since the night of my Lady -Kilcroney’s rout at Weymouth? And sure, when my -Lady Selina walked into the Crown Inn, wasn’t Miss -Pounce behind her? Miss Pounce will swear to that. -And I’ll lay you me oath that she’s speaking truth, since -it’s the one coach-load of it we all were.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[311]</span>But whether or no these assurances and plausibilities -might have proved convincing to the inflamed brain of -the injured husband, they were doomed to failure by the -action of the Mad Brat herself.</p> - -<p>This impetuous young woman suddenly hurled herself -into their midst and upon her husband’s breast, -tears, kisses, passionate confession pouring from her.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Fred, Fred, darling! Oh, my own and only love—I -tried to run away from you, and I couldn’t! Fred, -my angel, it was all that cruel thing—that cruel thing -you said. Oh, Fred, you do remember?” She shook -him. “You know you said that you did not think any -other man would be such a f-f-fool—Yes, you did—you -said no other man would be such a f-fool as to run away -with me!”</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>My Lord Kilcroney, with his Lady and the other -friends interested in the erratic young couple, were all -agreed that the Mad Brat was well matched in her -spouse. For of all the hot-headed, light-witted, frantic -fellows—these were my Lord’s own words—he had ever -had to deal with, Lieutenant Fred Simpson, of the -Marines, was the “jewel of the lot!” The united efforts -of himself, Squire Day, and Lord Verney, were ultimately -successful, however, in preventing the series of duels -which Master Fred at first seemed bent on bringing -about. Even Lord Kilcroney did not escape a challenge; -but on his representing his services on the Salisbury -Road, the affair had to end in a laugh. Mr. Jocelyn -Bellairs, on Pamela’s prompting, made a very frank and -full apology, couched in language so admirably chosen, -that even the young Othello had to be satisfied with it.</p> - -<p>“I confess,” he said, “that I was led away, Mr. -Simpson. I confess that I lost my head (and very nearly -my heart). But ask yourself whether, in such company, -an angel from heaven might not have succumbed!”</p> - -<p>Providence itself intervened in the matter of Colonel -Endacott, for this gentleman’s wound, whether owing to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[312]</span> -original distemper in the blood, or to the ministrations -of Doctor Dawson, became so inflamed that it was held -as more than doubtful whether that gallant officer would -ever walk again. He was invalided out of the regiment, -thereby providing at least one step for Mr. Simpson.</p> - -<p>There only remained Sir Jasper—no easy personage -to deal with, as my Lord knew from long experience. -But by the time the baronet’s sword arm had healed an -excellent post abroad had been obtained for Mr. Simpson; -and to the infinite relief of all her relations, the Mad Brat -and her spouse carried their bickerings and reconciliations -to another clime.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[313]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVI</h2> - -<p class="ph1"><span class="smcap">In which my Lady Kilcroney has the Last<br> -Word</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> best-tempered of women are apt to be a trifle peevish -after a wedding, especially if they are responsible for the -event, and have had most of the trouble of the bridal -preparations.</p> - -<p>My Lady Kilcroney had had two reasons for patronising -the marriage between Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs and Miss -Pamela Pounce.</p> - -<p>In the first place she flattered herself that she had -made it. It pleased her sense of rectitude to know that -it was an heroic decision. Jocelyn, the rascal, had gone -too far, and Pamela was a first-class good girl. ’Twas -but justice.</p> - -<p>Then my Lady Kilcroney was a woman of the world, -to her finger-tips. The alliance, which she could not -have prevented if she would, was a strange, foolish, -unequal business. To silence ill-natured gossip and -the malicious tattle of dear, intimate enemies, there was -nothing for it but for her to take a firm stand of championship. -’Twas the only attitude to ensure respect, -from Royalty downwards. To tell the truth, Kitty -was getting a bit sick of Royalty, and would not have -cared had she followed my Lady Flo’s example, but not -upon this crisis. She knew how to take the Queen by -this time, not being a born fool, and, indeed, had emerged -more triumphantly than ever from a situation which -might have lost her her place at Court.</p> - -<p>“I thought of you, ma’am,” she had said, turning up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">[314]</span> -her eyes, “how you would have wished me to act, you -that sets virtue before everything.”</p> - -<p>If the Queen had gathered a lower opinion of Pamela -Pounce’s moral stamina from the interview than was -justified by facts, she had gained a vastly higher one of -my Lady Kilcroney’s. So the incident was closed to -Kitty’s advantage.</p> - -<p>And now Pamela was wed, and my Lady Kilcroney -had made quite a droll, pretty feast of it.</p> - -<p>Farmer Pounce, in blue cloth and brass buttons, Mrs. -Pounce, in a lovely new bonnet trimmed for the occasion -by her daughter, followed by a rosy progeny, had been -really such honest, simple dears that Kitty quite loved -them; and Pamela (sensible, excellent creature that she -was, who had chosen to be married in a snowy muslin -and a white chip), had looked so sweet and wholesome -and happy, and withal remained so respectfully in her -place, was so pleasantly unassuming, that my Lady very -genuinely considered old Bellairs’s nephew to be more -lucky than he deserved.</p> - -<p>She had convened her special circle to witness the -ceremony, which was performed in her own drawing-room -at Hertford Street; not omitting Mistress Lafone, -for Kitty would not put it into the minx’s power to say -that she was afraid of her tongue.</p> - -<p>There was a brisk passage between these two ladies, -out of which Kitty, she flattered herself, emerged victorious.</p> - -<p>“Dear, to be sure,” had said Molly, with her most -tart-sweet air, “how monstrous strange it will be to -be ordering hats from your own niece, my Lady Kilcroney!”</p> - -<p>And my Lady had responded: she trusted to Heaven -that Pamela would be more particular than ever, now, -whom she served.</p> - -<p>Madame Mirabel had had the good sense to excuse herself -on the ground of age and infirmity; a piece of tact -which, coupled with the handsome present she bestowed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">[315]</span> -on her esteemed partner, was as clever a stroke of business -as the astute old lady had ever contrived.</p> - -<p>Miss Clara Smithson and Miss Polly Popple, on the -other hand, who were, as the whole of the Bond Street -establishment knew, that devoted to their dear, darling -Miss Pounce that they were as glad of her happiness in -the depths of their feeling hearts as if it had been their -own, could not, of course, be omitted from the list of -guests; and indeed, it may be said that Lydia’s only -consolation on a day, which was otherwise unmitigatedly -displeasing to her, was the opportunity which the presence -of these females gave her of discharging her bosom -of some of its accumulated gall.</p> - -<p>When all her company had departed, my Lady owned -that she was tired, and Lydia was very plainly given to -understand that she must not presume upon a relationship, -which was, to say the least of it, ridiculous.</p> - -<p>Lydia had made herself far finer than the bride, and -Kitty thought it prodigious bad taste in her to be so -ruffled and flounced and panniered.</p> - -<p>“And the shade of lavender you’ve chosen, Lydia, -positive sets my teeth on edge, and I should have thought -you’d have known better than to rouge yourself up, till -anyone would take my own woman for an actress, and -a low one at that.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then, I’m sure, your Ladyship,” retorted -Lydia with spirit, “not having any acquaintance with -such females, save your Ladyship’s own dear friend, my -Lady Mandeville (who would have looked better for a bit -of colour to-day), it wouldn’t become me to set myself -up against your Ladyship’s opinion in the matter; but -considering the practice I’ve had on your Ladyship it’s -to be hoped I’d know how to put on the rouge, if I don’t -show it off as well as your Ladyship, not being so full in -the face. And I’m sorry your Ladyship ain’t satisfied -with the hue of my gown, it being one of her own presents -to me, Christmas five years that was. And indeed,” -went on Lydia, “I never could abide it myself, but since<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[316]</span> -it was when your Ladyship went sudden out of mourning -for old Mr. Bellairs, and she didn’t know what to do with -the eight yards of taffety, I couldn’t be so disobliging as -not to make the best of them. And indeed, considering -the occasion to-day I thought they fitted in uncommon -apt.”</p> - -<p>“Dear, to be sure!” cried Kitty, sinking into a chair. -“What a tongue you have! ’Tis to be hoped it isn’t a -family failing or else my poor dear Bellairs’s nephew, the -last of his name, will have a sad time of it.”</p> - -<p>“Dear, to be sure!” echoed Lydia, with frightful -acrimony, “I could find it in my heart to pity that pore -young gentleman myself. No one can ever say I wanted -that there owdacious marriage.” (Which was certainly -true. Lydia would infinitely have preferred to see her -niece bloom unplucked on her maiden stem.) “Of all -the unpleasant situations, I says, him to have a wife a -milliner as is born to another class, and spend his days -torn, so to speak, between the high and the low. He’ll -never make a fine lady of Pamela, what’s a work-woman -in the bone, and he can’t,” pursued Lydia, moved -by her own eloquence almost to tears, “strip his own -gentility off of himself like a coat and sit as it were in his -shirt-sleeves, common, for the rest of his life.”</p> - -<p>Seeing angry retort leaping in her mistress’s eye, -Lydia proceeded in a great hurry, to get out the next -most disagreeable remark she could think of: “And as -to him being the last of his name, your Ladyship can’t go -counting on that. Mrs. Jocelyn Bellairs,” Lydia tittered, -“will have a long family like her mother before her, and -before we know where we are we’ll have little Bellairses -a-running about all over the place like spiders——”</p> - -<p>She broke off. Intimately acquainted with her mistress -as she was, there were sides to her character which -Miss Lydia Pounce had as yet failed to grasp. She had -thought to pay out my Lady for her odious unkindness, -but her shaft had singularly missed the mark. All the -ill-humour vanished from Kitty Kilcroney’s charming<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">[317]</span> -countenance. She clasped her hands with a genuine cry -of delight.</p> - -<p>“Why, Lydia, I’ll be godmother to the first girl, I will -indeed! It ought to be a charming creature, they so -handsome and so happy! I’ll be godmother, and ’twill -be a vast of pleasure to me, child, to think there’ll be -another Kitty Bellairs!”</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The End</span></p> - -<hr class="tb"> -<p class="center"><i>Printed in Great Britain by Wyman & Sons Ltd., London, Reading and Fakenham</i></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="transnote"> -<p class="ph1">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> - -<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p> - -<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p> - -<p>Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.</p> -</div></div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAMELA POUNCE ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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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