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diff --git a/78457-h/78457-h.htm b/78457-h/78457-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef31db6 --- /dev/null +++ b/78457-h/78457-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12502 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + +<head> + +<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + +<link rel="icon" href="images/img-cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + +<meta charset="utf-8"> + +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Donovan, Volume II, by Edna Lyall +</title> + +<style> +body { color: black; + background: white; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +p {text-indent: 1.5em } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 200%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 60%; + text-align: center } + +h1 { text-align: center } +h2 { text-align: center } +h3 { text-align: center } +h4 { text-align: center } +h5 { text-align: center } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; + letter-spacing: 2em ; + text-align: center } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +.smcap { font-variant: small-caps } + +p.intro {font-size: 90% ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.quote {text-indent: 1.5em ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.intro {font-size: 90% ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } +</style> + +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78457 ***</div> + +<h1> +<br><br> + DONOVAN<br> +</h1> + +<p class="t3b"> + A Novel<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + BY<br> +</p> + +<p class="t2"> + EDNA LYALL<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> + AUTHOR OF<br> + "WON BY WAITING."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="intro"> + "And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed around<br> + Our incompleteness,—<br> + Round our restlessness, His rest."<br> + E. B. BROWNING.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + IN THREE VOLUMES.<br> + VOL. II.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + LONDON:<br> + HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS,<br> + 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.<br> + 1882.<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> + <i>All rights reserved.</i><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3b"> + Contents<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + I. <a href="#chap01">Cast Adrift</a><br> + II. <a href="#chap02">Rouge et Noir</a><br> + III. <a href="#chap03">"The Raven for a Guide"</a><br> + IV. <a href="#chap04">Struggling On</a><br> + V. <a href="#chap05">Monaco</a><br> + VI. <a href="#chap06">Losing Self to Find</a><br> + VII. <a href="#chap07">"O'er Moor and Fen"</a><br> + VIII. <a href="#chap08">One and All</a><br> + IX. <a href="#chap09">In a Home</a><br> + X. <a href="#chap10">Oakdene Manor</a><br> + XI. <a href="#chap11">The Ideal Woman</a><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> + +<p class="t2"> +DONOVAN. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER I. +<br><br> +CAST ADRIFT. +</h2> + +<p class="intro"> + Ruin's wheel has driven o'er us,<br> + Not a hope that dare attend,<br> + The wide world is all before us,<br> + But a world without a friend.<br> + BURNS.<br> +</p> + +<p class="intro"> + Two dry sticks will set on fire one green.<br> + He that takes the raven for a guide shall light upon carrion.<br> + <i>Eastern Proverbs.</i><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +How long were things to go on in their +present state? That was the question +which, as the spring advanced, Ellis Farrant +continually asked himself. One afternoon, +towards the end of May, the thought pressed +itself upon him more pertinaciously than ever. +He was in the smoking-room, leaning back +meditatively in his chair, from time to time +reading a few lines in the <i>Sporting News</i>, but +more often looking discontentedly and +perplexedly at his step-son, who had drawn up his +chair to the other side of the hearth, and whose +fine profile was clearly marked out against the +light as he bent over his newspaper. Two days +ago Donovan had come of age, yet Ellis had +not carried out his preconceived plan of +revenge; in the past he had always intended to +have the final breach with his step-son on the +very day that his guardianship ended, but when +the time actually came his heart failed him—no +fitting opportunity presented itself. Instead of +quarrelling with him, he drank his health at +dinner, played billiards with him most of the +evening, and was as good-natured and friendly +as possible. But, although the few months +which had elapsed since Dot's death had been +singularly peaceable ones at the Manor, Ellis +had not lost his strong dislike to Donovan. He +had at first felt sorry for him, and had left him +unmolested; but it is one thing to sympathise +with a person in the first poignancy of his +grief, and quite another to understand or feel +for his prolonged sorrow. +</p> + +<p> +As the months passed on, and Donovan's +grave stern face still remained unaltered, Ellis +began to feel aggravated; he saw little enough +of his step-son, but what he did see was quite +sufficient to annoy him. Donovan would perhaps +come down to breakfast, then he would +disappear for the rest of the day, for long +solitary rides or walks seemed to be his only relief; +at dinner he would be in his place again, but +would rarely utter a single word, and in the +evening, though he was decidedly Ellis's +superior at every game, he was too gloomy +and taciturn to be a pleasant companion. The +elder man's dislike and impatience began to +grow uncontrollable; he found himself looking +out eagerly for an opportunity of picking a +quarrel. +</p> + +<p> +As he sat looking thoughtfully across the +room at his companion, his doubts were +suddenly resolved by an unexpected turn of affairs. +Donovan threw down his paper, and, turning +round to his step-father, asked abruptly, +</p> + +<p> +"When do you go up to town?" +</p> + +<p> +"Next week, I believe," said Ellis, knocking +the ashes out of his pipe and re-filling it. +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause. Then Donovan continued, +</p> + +<p> +"I have been thinking over things for the +last few days, and I've made up my mind that +this sort of life won't do for me any longer. I +must begin to work at something." +</p> + +<p> +"A most commendable decision," said Ellis. +"And that's the longest sentence I've heard +from you for many a month." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan knew from the tone of this speech +that his step-father was in a quarrelsome +humour. He frowned, but continued, with +some additional constraint in his manner, +</p> + +<p> +"Since we are agreed, then, perhaps it would +be as well if we arranged matters before leaving +Oakdene. I am thinking of going into chambers +and studying for the Bar; if you and my +mother will settle my allowance, there is nothing +that need keep me here longer." +</p> + +<p> +"Gently, my good fellow," said Ellis, getting +up from his chair with the feeling that he could +carry things through with a high hand if he +were standing above his step-son. "You are +in rather too great a hurry; you rattle off in a +few words what involves a great deal. I too +have been thinking matters over, not only for +the last two or three days, but for some time; +by all means set to work if you like, only do +not expect me to support you any longer. Live +in chambers, if you will, and be a law-student +for as many years as you please, only don't +think that I shall keep you during the interval +or pay your premium." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan started to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't understand you," he said, with +repressed indignation. "What do you mean by +this?" +</p> + +<p> +"Simply what I say," said Ellis, provokingly. +</p> + +<p> +"You mean me to understand that I am not +to have any proper allowance made me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Exactly so, though I don't admit the +adjective." +</p> + +<p> +The two men stood facing each other. For +a few minutes neither spoke; Donovan's eyes +dilated, and his face glowed with indignation. +Ellis met his look with a cool bold effrontery. +</p> + +<p> +At length the silence was broken by Donovan's voice. +</p> + +<p> +"And <i>this</i> is what you have waited and +plotted for! this is the part of the honourable +English gentleman, to steal into a house, and +win your way craftily, and mislead wilfully and +shamefully those who never suspected your +wickedness! Yes, you have fulfilled your duties as +a guardian nobly, and now you would oust the +'insufferable cub,' whom you longed to kick +out months ago, only you couldn't; instead you +hoodwinked him, flattered, lured him on with +false hopes. You <i>scoundrel</i>!" +</p> + +<p> +"The step-son waxes hot," said Ellis, with a +sneer, "as, naturally, we part this day, I will +allow a few last shots." +</p> + +<p> +"Wretch! Do you dare to turn me out of +my own father's house?—you an interloper, a +defrauder!" +</p> + +<p> +"I have tolerated your presence in the house +for ten months," said Ellis; "I knew that the +time remaining was short, I let you stay on in +peace; you have aggravated me at times beyond +bearing, and now, with the greatest +pleasure in life, I show you the door. You +surmised quite truly, I have often longed to 'kick +you out,' as you express it; take care that you +do not force me to interpret the words literally." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think," said Donovan, angrily, +"that my mother is so utterly unnatural that +she will allow me to be treated in this way? I +tell you you are mistaken, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"You forget that your mother is my wife," +said Ellis, watching his victim's writhing lip +with a sort of enjoyment. "But, come now, I'll +overlook what you've said, and we will part +amicably; do not cut your own throat by +refusing the pardon I offer." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Pardon</i>! And from you!" cried Donovan, +passionately. "Am I to accept forgiveness for +words which are a hundred times too mild for +your conduct? I'll let the world know of the +injustice, I'll publish your scandalous behaviour +everywhere in the neighbourhood!" +</p> + +<p> +"The only drawback to that scheme of +revenge is the unfortunate character you yourself +bear in the place," said Ellis, maliciously. +"The neighbourhood will not very readily +sympathise with any stories which the far-famed +Donovan Farrant, the professed atheist, thinks +fit to fabricate." +</p> + +<p> +The statement was so true that Donovan +could not deny it, but the consciousness of his +utter isolation and the sense of injustice drove +him almost to madness. +</p> + +<p> +"That may be true!" he stormed, "anything +may be true in a cruel, self-seeking, unjust +world, but though everyone is against me, +though I've not a creature on earth to hold out +a hand to me, I will at least speak my mind to +you. You are a traitor, sir, and a villain!" +</p> + +<p> +"Take care," said Ellis, his colour mounting, +"I give you fair warning that those words are +actionable; use them again at your peril." +</p> + +<p> +"You dare me to use them!" said Donovan, +furiously. "I will repeat them a thousand +times—you are a treacherous, despicable +villain! Were a hundred witnesses present, a +hundred lawsuits possible, I would repeat it! +What! am I to submit to be ruined without a +word?—am I to sink down meekly into beggary +because a plotting, scheming traitor like +you dares to condemn me?" +</p> + +<p> +Ellis was trembling with mingled fear and rage. +</p> + +<p> +"You had better go while I can keep my +hands off you," he said, fiercely. "Stay longer +and I'll have you sent to Bedlam." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan's brain seemed to reel; it was +almost impossible to believe that he was +actually being turned out of his father's house. +</p> + +<p> +"I will see my mother," he said, with angry +resolution in his voice. "She will not suffer it, +she cannot." +</p> + +<p> +He strode out of the room fiercely, and +hurried across the hall to the dining-room. +Waif, hearing his step, sprang up from the +door-mat and pattered after him, Ellis, following +quickly, blocked the doorway before the door +closed. Donovan turned back wildly. +</p> + +<p> +"I tell you I insist on seeing my mother +alone," he said, with a look so full of anger and +hatred that Ellis shrank beneath it, but still he +was able to answer with cold decision, +</p> + +<p> +"And I tell you that I refuse to leave my +wife with a maniac." +</p> + +<p> +"Be it so," cried Donovan, "but, though you +deny me everything, you cannot alter the +instincts of nature. Mother, you will not—you +cannot agree to this wickedness. You will not +turn me away from this house penniless. You +will not listen to what he says?" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Farrant had been lying on the sofa; she +started up from a doze to find the room in an +uproar—Donovan and her husband storming at +each other in a fashion without parallel. They +had often before disagreed, even quarrelled in +her presence, but in a quiet gentlemanly way, +to which she did not object. This angry +vociferation terrified her beyond measure. +Donovan's rare and almost tropical outbursts of +passion had always alarmed her. She turned +now from his wild looks and impetuous words +to her husband, who stood by in cold silence. +</p> + +<p> +"What is the matter? What has happened, +Ellis?" she asked, helplessly. "Pray stop this +terrible noise. It is quite impossible for me to +understand anything, Donovan, if you agitate me so." +</p> + +<p> +"I will be quiet," he gasped, softening his +voice with an effort. "I will not worry you +for a moment. Only trust me, mother; listen +to me fairly, and promise that you will not side +against me. He—your husband insults me, +drives me out of the house—this house which +never ought to have been his—he turns me +away penniless—say, only say that it is against your wish!" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Farrant's tears began to flow, and she +turned to her husband imploringly. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! Ellis, what has he done? Do not be +hard upon him. He is the only child I have +left. What has he done?" +</p> + +<p> +Even in that moment of tumult, Donovan +felt a thrill of joy at his mother's words. Was +it possible that at last they might understand +each other—that Nature would assert herself +above the thick clouds of selfishness and +uncongeniality which had so long divided them? +</p> + +<p> +"Honora," said Ellis, in his coldest voice, +"you must be content to trust me with this. +I cannot allow Donovan's presence in my house +any longer. For your sake I will let him go +without calling him to account for the disgraceful +language he has used to me, but go he must. +He has been supported in idleness quite long +enough; let him win his way in the world now +as he can." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan stood with his back against the +window frame, and with arms folded, listening +in silence to his step-father's words, listening, +too, with painful intensity, for his mother's +answer. Would she again plead for him, or +would she be over-ruled by Ellis's cold speech? +</p> + +<p> +"There has been nothing but trouble about +him," sobbed Mrs. Farrant. "There seems to +be a fate against me; nothing goes well. I +have trouble after trouble. Oh! Donovan, why +did you bring about this quarrel? For my +sake you might have respected your step-father." +</p> + +<p> +"At least believe that it was not my doing," +cried Donovan, bitterly disappointed by her +tone. "If you would only have believed what +I told you last summer, we could not have been +in this position; but who can stand against the +coils of a serpent!" +</p> + +<p> +"Go, sir," said Ellis, angrily, "go at once, +and do not try my patience by upbraiding me +before my wife." +</p> + +<p> +"Did I not tell you that he would bring +nothing but wretchedness to us?" said Donovan, +desperately. "The time may come when +you will see it more clearly. I can only hope +that one victim may satisfy him, and that you +may never suffer." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Farrant sobbed convulsively, Donovan +stooped down and kissed her, but, as he felt her +tears wet on his cheek, he thought bitterly how +one brave decided word from her would have +been worth all this passionate sorrow. +</p> + +<p> +With a dazzled bewildered feeling he crossed +the hall and went up to his room; in a few +minutes his bell was rung, and a message sent +down to the housekeeper's room for Mrs. Doery +to come upstairs. She came to him at once, +looking so unchanged, with her nut-cracker +features, sharp eyes, and respectable black dress +and apron, that he felt almost as if time had +been standing still with her, while it had +brought such changes to him. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Mr. Donovan, what do you please to +require?" she asked, severely: +</p> + +<p> +He roused himself, and said in his natural +voice—a rich mellow voice, but with a great +ring of sadness in it— +</p> + +<p> +"I am going away, Doery. Mr. Farrant has, +in fact, turned me out of the house. I want +you to put up my things for me." +</p> + +<p> +Then, with that strange contradictoriness +whereby the very last persons in the world +whom we expect to love us, suddenly reveal +depths of unsuspected tenderness under the +stress of some unusual event, Mrs. Doery broke +into indignant sobs. She had never heard the +like in her life! Turn her lad out of the house +when he ought to have been made his father's +heir! It was impossible, intolerable, she never +would believe the law of England would allow it! +Her indignation rather softened Donovan, it +was such a relief to feel that anyone, even this +cross-grained old woman, would take his part! +It seemed a strange reversal of the old order of +things—Doery, stimulated by the cruelty of +others, to allow some merit in him, or at least +to bestow her pity on her ne'er-do-weel. He +left her with a substantial souvenir, both for +herself and for Dot's maid, Phœbe, generosity +which in the precarious state of his finances was +more natural than wise. Then he took a last +look at Dot's room, put her little carriage clock +with his own hands into his portmanteau, and +leaving directions with Doery for his things to +be sent to the Greyshot Station in time for an +evening train, he went downstairs. Ellis was +in the hall, waiting half nervously for the full +accomplishment of his plans, for the crowning +moment of his triumph. Donovan passed by +him without speaking, deliberately took down +his stick and riding-whip from the rack, and +then, facing round upon his step-father, said +with a depth of concentrated hatred and contempt, +</p> + +<p> +"We part here, then. Remember always how +admirably you have goaded me on to ruin!" +</p> + +<p> +Then the door was closed behind him, and +Donovan left the house which should have been +his, and walked away alone. +</p> + +<p> +It was a beautiful spring afternoon, the dark +fir-trees and the early crimson of the copper +beech stood out against the blue of the sky, the +oaks were beginning to show their green leaves, +the pink and white thorns were in full bloom. +The beauty of the place seemed never to have +been so great before, and though very often +Donovan had thought the Manor dull and +prison-like, yet now that he was exiled from it +he found how large a place it had in his heart. +And he was to leave it for ever! his home was +to remain in the hands of his greatest enemy! +At the first bend in the carriage drive he +involuntarily turned back for a last look at the +house. It stood there in the afternoon sunshine, +with just the same air of sleepy luxurious +comfort which it had always worn; there, above +the creeper-laden porch, was the window of his +old room, and close by it Dot's window. He +remembered the day when he had decided to +give up his foreign tour for the sake of being +with her, and heard in fancy the childish voice +which could never again call him; how strange +now seemed the struggle of the past to give +up his longing for a change of scene! how he +grudged every hour that he had spent away +from Dot! It was hard, very hard, to turn +away from the place so full of her memory; no +thought of future difficulties had as yet forced +itself upon him, indignation and bitter sorrow +drove out everything else—everything but a +vague feeling of more complete desolation, more +utter loneliness. He had thought that he had +drained the full bitterness of the cup of life in +the agony of bereavement, but here was a fresh +draught which in its humiliating injustice was +gall and wormwood to him. +</p> + +<p> +All this time he was not however so friendless +as he imagined; Waif followed him closely. His +devotion to his master, which had always been +very great, had become more marked since +Dot's death; in Donovan's lonely rides and long +walks Waif had always accompanied him, he +had learnt to understand his master's moods and +knew perfectly when to keep to heel in silent +unobtrusiveness, and when to frisk and gambol +about him; he had watched the stormy scene +in the drawing-room, had followed Donovan +noiselessly up and downstairs, now he trotted +demurely behind him, well aware that this was +not the right time to draw attention to his +presence. +</p> + +<p> +The gates were passed at length, and Donovan +stood without in the white dusty road; he +did not pause or hesitate or look back now, but +strode along with fierce rapid steps, down the +hill, through the little village, past old +Mr. Hayes' deserted house, to the tiny grey church +in the valley. Everything looked cruelly peaceful, +on the hillside a herd of cows were browsing, +a column of blue smoke curled up from the +chimney of a little farmhouse close by, a country +woman passed him singing to the brown-eyed +baby in her arms. Contrasted with all this +were Ellis's cruel words ringing in his ears, and +the recollection of the hateful look of vindictive +triumph which he had seen in his step-father's +face. The frenzied passionate indignation +surged up in his heart with redoubled force, +he threw open the churchyard gate, and +hurried up the flagged path, pausing however +beside the little porch to look at a notice which +had met his eye, as trifling things do sometimes +force themselves upon us in moments of great +agitation. He read with growing bitterness +the words:— +</p> + +<p> +"NEW ORGAN FUND.—Ellis Farrant, Esq., of +Oakdene Manor, having generously promised +£200 to the above fund, it is earnestly hoped +that the additional £100 still required may be +obtained. A special collection will be made, +&c., &c." Charity, church-organs, generosity to +win a good name with the world! behind the +outward show, injustice, tyranny, and hatred! +</p> + +<p> +Donovan turned aside past the great yew +tree to the place where little Dot had been laid. +The stone had just been put up, a recumbent +cross, the sharp outlines of the white marble +standing out clearly against the green grass; +he threw himself down upon it in one of his +terrible paroxysms of grief, in pain so unalleviated +that it seemed like strong physical torture +added to the mental suffering. How long +he lay there with his face pressed down to the +cold marble, and his hands grasping strainedly +at the turf he never knew; it must have been +for a long long time, for when he staggered to +his feet again the sun was setting, and he found +that only by walking briskly could he reach +Greyshot in time for the evening train to +London. With a still white cold face, which seemed +to have absorbed something of the hard rigidity +of the marble cross, he looked his last at the +little grave, then hastily recrossed the +churchyard. Waif, who had been watching him all +the time with considerable anxiety, trotted on +in front of him, but at the gate turned back to +meet him and began to draw attention to +himself by a series of whines and barks and bounds +in the air; he could not have chosen a better +moment for making his presence known, Donovan +felt at once the relieved re-action from hard +bitter despair to a half-amused gratitude; this +dumb creature loved him, there could be no +doubt of that, and there are times in the lives +of most of us, when the love even of dumb +things wins a tenfold preciousness because of +its unquestioning faithfulness, its fearless +devotion, its contrast to the changeful doubting +unreliable affection of men, who can judge and +speak their judgment. He stooped down and +let the dog spring up to his knee, while he +patted the sagacious white and tan head; then, +remembering that his time was short, he started +up again with a sudden return of energy. +</p> + +<p> +"Come along, old fellow," he said, in his +usual voice, "you and I will go through the +world together." +</p> + +<p> +Waif wagged his tail, pricked up his black +ear, drooped the white one, and bounded along +as if he enjoyed the thought of the companionship. +</p> + +<p> +It was growing dusk when the dog and his +master reached Greyshot; the station lamps +were lighted; somehow Donovan's choking +indignation began to diminish under the influence +of the excitement. He had been unjustly +used, certainly, but the world was before him, +and the world began to seem more attractive +than he had thought; the cool evening wind +blew through the station, the platform was +rather crowded, for the first time a boyish sense +of the pleasure of freedom stole across him; +here he was accountable to no one, free to do +exactly as he pleased, with his portmanteau and +his dog he could roam where he liked. He +took a ticket for himself and Waif to +Paddington without any very distinct idea why he +chose London as his first resort, turning to it +perhaps only as the sort of natural home which +the great city seems to most Englishmen. +Then he sauntered up and down, waiting for +the train, looked at the brightly lighted book-stall, +scanned the faces of the crowd, while all +the time his thoughts were running pretty much +in this way: +</p> + +<p> +"I must make the best of life; hateful and +worthless as it is, I may as well enjoy myself +as much as I can. The world is full of injustice, +I will pay it back in its own coin." +</p> + +<p> +Presently the train was heard in the distance, +in another minute his golden-eyed destiny +flashed into sight, there was haste and confusion +on the platform. Waif, with his ticket tied to +his collar, kept close to his master's heels, till +Donovan, opening the door of a carriage, prepared +to lift him in; the occupants, however, +objected, a nervous middle aged lady started +up from her corner, she could not endure dogs, +she really must beg that he did not get into that +carriage. Donovan retreated, and hurried on +to the next vacant place, taking care this time +to put the question, +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mind the dog?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, dear no," said a pleasant bland voice, +and he sprang in just as the train started. +</p> + +<p> +When he had put up his bag and walking-stick, +he threw himself back in a corner seat, +and began to scrutinize his fellow-passengers. +They were three in number, and they were +beguiling the time with a game of euchre. The +individual with the pleasant voice, who had +consented to Waif's admittance, sat next to +Donovan, so that he could only see his profile; +he seemed to be a short, heavily-made man +between fifty and sixty, with an unnaturally +red face, thick neck, and scanty red hair +sprinkled with grey; he was singularly ugly, but his +expression was more weak than unpleasant, +especially when he turned round with some +trifling remark to Donovan, and showed his +little twinkling watery eyes, good-natured mouth, +and round face. His two companions were +much younger men, the one furthest from +Donovan was faring badly in the game, he was a +sleek-looking, bearded man, dressed rather +extravagantly, and wearing a heavy watch-chain +and bunch of charms; there was an air of +vulgar prosperity about him, and Donovan +instantly surmised that he was some wealthy +manufacturer or tradesman. The remaining +traveller was a much more perplexing study. +After watching him for some time, Donovan +had not in the least arrived at any decision +about him, he might have been a sporting +gentleman, or a superior commercial traveller, or a +newspaper correspondent, or possibly a +card-sharper. Donovan tried to fit every one of +these "callings" upon him; each succeeded for +a time, and then fell to the ground. He was, +however, peculiarly attractive. His companions +were very soon forgotten altogether in the +absorbing interest of watching this man's +exceedingly clever play and curious face. He had a +square massive forehead, black hair receding +from the temples, and just beginning to turn +grey, a dark oily complexion, very small black +eyes, with a dissatisfied look in them, and +heavy dark eyebrows, level towards the bridge +of the nose, but arched at the other end, and +raised still higher when he became interested. +</p> + +<p> +Before very long the manufacturer was beaten, +and the dark-browed man turned to Donovan, +shuffling the cards as he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"Will you make a fourth at whist?" +</p> + +<p> +The question was asked so casually, as if the +speaker cared little whether he complied or +not, that Donovan, who had rather inclined to +the opinion that he was a professional gambler, +was completely deceived by it. He only hesitated +a moment, then the red-haired elder man +turned round with his good-humoured smile, +and said, in his pleasant voice, +</p> + +<p> +"We should be delighted, if you would join +us. One needs something of the sort on a long +journey, to while away the time." +</p> + +<p> +Without further preamble the game began. +The stakes were high; Donovan grew excited, +and forgot for the time his anger and the bitter +treatment to which he had been subjected. He +was partner with the rich manufacturer; the +strange-looking, dark-browed man was playing +with the elder with the red hair. He was a +daring opponent, and Donovan, who was +accustomed to carry everything before him, was +roused and interested to a most unwonted +degree. It was a close and exciting game, +eventually won by the two strangers, but +Donovan's skilful play had evidently surprised his +dark-looking opponent, who scrutinized him +curiously, while the red-haired traveller began +to compliment him. +</p> + +<p> +Presently they stopped at Swindon, and +Donovan, beginning to be conscious that he +had eaten nothing for many hours, hurried +away with the others towards the refreshment-room. +As he waited for an instant among the +crowd of passengers, he heard a sharp voice, +low, and yet singularly distinct, not far from him. +</p> + +<p> +"Now mind, your work's not done yet, so be +careful." +</p> + +<p> +Glancing round, Donovan saw that the speaker +was his late opponent; the good-humoured face +of his red-haired companion clouded a little, +and there was something of the expression of a +spoilt child about his mouth as he replied. +</p> + +<p> +"Plague upon it! You never can let a fellow +enjoy himself, Noir. I'm sure I've been as +temperate as old Oliver himself——" +</p> + +<p> +The rest of the sentence died away in the +distance, but apparently Noir enforced his +advice, for, some minutes before Donovan left the +refreshment-room, his two fellow-travellers +repassed him on their way to the carriage. +</p> + +<p> +Waif sat guarding his master's property. +The two men did not notice him; the younger +one, who had been addressed as Noir, flung +himself back in his place, the elder fidgeted +about restlessly, talking in his hearty voice the +while. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you think of our two friends?" +</p> + +<p> +"The manufacturer is a fool," said Noir, +decidedly. "The young one's as sharp as a +needle." +</p> + +<p> +"Ha! I thought as much. He'd have beaten +us hollow, wouldn't he, if it hadn't been for +certain——" +</p> + +<p> +"Be quiet!" said the younger man, sharply. +"You'll undo us some day by your want of +caution." +</p> + +<p> +"Shall you try any more this evening?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know. I think not. I wish I could +get that young fellow for a second instead of +you. He'd be the making of us." +</p> + +<p> +"A cut above our sort of thing, isn't he?" +</p> + +<p> +"Can't say, but he looks discontented enough. +We'll sound him, get the manufacturer to draw +him out." +</p> + +<p> +Then, as the other traveller returned, Noir +suddenly changed his tone, and very skilfully +drew the conversation round to the desired +subject. They had just been talking of his +partner. He seemed a clever fellow. They +were wondering what he was. For his part, he +would bet ten to one that he was in the Army. +The manufacturer thought he was an +undergraduate. There was some laughter over the +dispute. It was agreed that, by hook or by +crook, they would find out which was in the +right by the end of the journey. Then the bell +sounded. There was hurrying to and fro on +the platform, and at the very last moment +Donovan stalked back to his place, perfectly +unconscious of the small plot which his +companions had been making. +</p> + +<p> +He had brought back a biscuit for Waif, and +the dog made a good opening for conversation. +Then the manufacturer mentioned by chance +that he came <i>from Bristol</i>, and Donovan, to the +satisfaction of the three conspirators, began to +ask questions as to the likelihood of finding any +suitable employment there. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! with capital, you can always get on," +said the rich man, easily. "Nothing can be +done in this world without money, but there are +plenty of openings there for any young men +wanting employment." +</p> + +<p> +"Provided they are capitalists," said Donovan, +with bitterness, which did not escape Noir's +keen observance. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! well, of course you might meet with a +clerkship," said the manufacturer, "but it's a +difficulty to get them very often, there's such a +run on them; and besides, that would hardly +be in your line, would it?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," said Donovan, haughtily; then, with +a touch of humour, he added, "Though, to be +sure, I've not much right to talk of 'my line.'" +</p> + +<p> +The talk drifted on by degrees to the recent +strikes in Lancashire, and the manufacturer and +Donovan had a hot argument on the subject of +wages, in which the latter's keen sense of +injustice and oppression was fully brought to +light; he talked so fiercely of the tyranny of +the rich, the grinding down of the poor, the +dishonest grasping of the capitalists, that Noir +felt sure there was some personal feeling +involved in the dispute, certain that in some way +this young fellow's life had been embittered by +the tyranny and injustice which he inveighed +against. The dark brows were raised higher +and higher as the argument went on; evidently +Donovan's words had touched some kindred +feeling in the man's heart. At last he could +contain himself no longer, but joined in the +dispute, linking his vehement words with +Donovan's, till between them they fairly overwhelmed +the rich Bristol man. Then at once there was +established between them that strange sympathy +which comes like a lightning flash, when +two minds are entirely one upon a subject not +usually agreed upon. They had been united +in argument, and in an argument very nearly +touching their own lives; instinctively Donovan +held out his hand when they parted at +Paddington, and the dark-browed man grasped it +with a warmth and heartiness curiously +contradictory to his disposition. He was in reality a +hardened cheat, but his one vulnerable spot had +been touched, and he at once conceived a strong +liking for his young ally. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps few places are so dependent on the +frame of mind one is in as London. No place +seems so pleasant to a sociable person in a +happy humour, no place so cold and uncongenial +to anyone in trouble. Then with what +heartless indifference the busy crowd passes by, +how the careless talk, the hearty laugh, the +cool stare of one's kind wound and sting; +with what envy does one look at the smiling +faces, and how (foolishly and morbidly, of +course) one compares them with the priest and +the Levite in the parable; though how they can +help "passing by on the other side," when one +is only stripped and wounded and robbed by +the unseen foes of life which prey on the inner +man, a troubled mind, is generally too illogical +to consider. The forlornness of his position did +not come upon Donovan all at once. During +the months which had passed since little Dot's +death, in his sorrow "without hope," worthier +and more manly thoughts had grown up in his +heart; he had made up his mind to work at +something, and, though his chief object had +been merely to divert his thoughts by the +work, the resolve was still in the right +direction. The rude repulse which he had met with +from Ellis when he suggested his new idea, +and the hardness of his expulsion from Oakdene, +crushed down for the time all these better +thoughts; but in a little while, from sheer +necessity, they sprang up again. It was +evidently impossible that he could live for any +length of time on the remains of his last +allowance; he must gain his living in some way, and +now, for the first time, he felt fully how fatal +to his interests Ellis's guardianship had been. +Had he been forced to enter some profession, or +had he even received a better education after +his school career was ended, he would not now +have been so helpless; yet, after all, he would +scarcely have consented to leave Dot, even had +he known beforehand of Ellis's malignant +intention; only now it added bitterness to his +indignation to think how coolly and systematically +his step-father had planned his ruin. +Why was it?—what had he done to earn such +hatred? He asked himself those questions over +and over again, knowing nothing of the first +great wrong which Ellis had done him—the +wrong which was at the root of all the +subsequent evil. +</p> + +<p> +The morning after his arrival he hurried off +at once to Bedford Row to consult his father's +solicitor, the same who had come down to his +grandfather's funeral, and had initiated him +into the mysteries of <i>vingt-et-un</i>. He was by this +time an elderly man; but though he listened to +Donovan kindly, and refused to take any fee +for the consultation, he showed him at once +that he had no legal claim whatever on Ellis +Farrant or his mother now that he was of age. +His case was no doubt a very hard one; he +should think that by continued applications he +might reasonably expect to extort some allowance, +if only a small one, from his step-father. +As to his mother, she had no power at all apart +from her husband; he could take counsel's +opinion if he liked, but it would be simply +throwing away his two guineas—it was a +matter quite out of the province of law, a family +matter which must be arranged, by family +feeling and natural affection. As to employment, +he should advise him to apply to any influential +men he knew in town; it was possible he might +get some post in one of the Government offices. +The lawyer hoped that Mr. Farrant would dine +with him some evening—he had just moved to +a new house at Brompton; if he could ever be +of any service to Mr. Farrant, he should be +most happy. +</p> + +<p> +Donovan went away several degrees more +depressed than before. His prospects did +indeed seem dreary; "continued applications" +to Ellis Farrant, or, in plain English, "begging +letters," could not for a moment be thought of, +and the lawyer's kindness failed to impress him. +It was easy enough to ask a fellow to dinner, +and to hold out vague offers of service; but +Donovan had seen too hollow a corner of the +world to put any faith in this sort of friendship. +He resolved, however, to call on two or three +great men whom in the old times he and his +mother had visited; his name at least would be +known to them. He would at any rate follow +the lawyer's advice, and try for work. But each +effort was doomed to fail. The first of the old +acquaintance was kind indeed, but not +encouraging; he knew of nothing in the least +suitable, regretted extremely his inability to +help his young friend. The second flattered +him, assured him that with such advantages he +could not fail to get on in the world, and +promised that if ever he heard of any appointment +likely to suit him he would let him know at +once. The third, an overwrought man, always +oppressed by twice as much work as he could +properly manage, received him with scant +courtesy, listened to his story coldly, and dismissed +him with a curt refusal; it was no use coming +to him, he had a thousand applications of the +kind—they were, in fact, the bane of his existence. +He could offer no help at all—he wished +Mr. Farrant good day. +</p> + +<p> +It was not till the close of this third interview +that Donovan altogether realised his position. +With hot cheeks, for he was still young enough +to flush easily at any discourtesy, he turned his +back on the chambers of the harassed and +churlish man of the world, made his way along +the crowded pavements of Parliament Street, +and without any distinct purpose bent his +steps towards the river. It was a hot +afternoon in early June, but what little air there +was reached him as he leant on the parapet of +Westminster Bridge, his face propped between +both hands, his eyes bent down on the sparkling +sunlit water. What was the use of his +life? he asked himself dejectedly. How indeed +was he to live? His acquaintances one and all +refused or were not able to help him, his home +ties were all broken, there was not a single +being in the world who would help him or care +for him. Under such circumstances, would it +not be well to seek that "refuge in the cavern +of cold death" which he had taught himself to +consider as the goal, the end of all things? +What harm could it do to anyone? There was +no one to miss him except Waif, and not to be +would be ineffable peace! No more craving for +Dot's presence, no more gnawing disappointment +and weariness of life, no more suffering +from injustice, no more misery of loneliness. +And yet—— What would his father have said? +And then, too, was there not some natural +physical shrinking from such an end? After +all, he was very young, and the boy-life within +him began to assert itself above the morbid +overgrowth. Life as it was, was certainly not +worth having, but surely there must be some +brightness in store for him! The sun shone +down in golden splendour on the river, the +pleasure-steamers and the smaller boats were +borne past him rapidly; the mere animal joy of +existence overcame for the time his darker +thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +Yet what was he to do? He did not know +the Bible well, but he had of course heard it +read in his school days and before he gave up +church-going, now from some odd recess of +memory there floated back the words—"Make +to yourselves friends of the mammon of +unrighteousness that when ye fail they may receive +you into everlasting habitations." He smiled a +little to himself as he thought of the solution of +this perplexing passage which his life was +bringing to light. He had certainly taken no +pains in the old days to make friends; where +he could have wished friendship there had +always been a shrinking back on the other +side; his bad name had kept back good +companions; his natural nobility had guarded him +from making real friends of bad people, +although he had been in the way of evil +companionship very often. But a real friend he had +never known. Certainly his circumstances were +sufficiently dreary to have brought to despair a +far better regulated mind than his; the misery +and hopelessness surged in upon him afresh, +the healthy pleasure in existence died away, +the brightness of the summer day only increased +his sick longing for something to fill the +emptiness of his life. +</p> + +<p> +Just as he had slowly raised himself and was +about to move on from the place where he had +been leaning, he heard himself addressed in a +voice which, though not exactly familiar to him, +he yet seemed to have heard somewhere. +</p> + +<p> +"Good day, I think we've had the pleasure +of meeting before." +</p> + +<p> +Turning round hastily, he at once recognized +the dark-browed man with whom he had travelled +up from Greyshot, his antagonist in the +game, his ally in the argument. +</p> + +<p> +"I've been watching you for some minutes," +said the stranger, "only you seemed so deep in +meditation that I wouldn't disturb you. I've +often thought of you since that day we met on +the Great Western." +</p> + +<p> +"Have you?" said Donovan, brightening a +little, for the man's manner had a certain +attractiveness in it; then, after a moment's +pause, he added, "Why, I wonder?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why?" repeated the stranger, "because I +like you, and it is so seldom I do like anyone +that naturally, from the very oddity of the +thing, I thought of you." +</p> + +<p> +They had moved on while talking, and now, +leaving the bridge, walked along the +embankment. Donovan liked the man, and yet was +too reserved and too prudent to care to make +any advances to him. The stranger began to +see that he must take the initiative. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you found the work you were looking +out for?" he asked, turning his dark restless +eyes on his companion. +</p> + +<p> +Donovan shook his head, all his despondency +returning at this allusion. +</p> + +<p> +"I thought as much from your look," said +the stranger. "You haven't found it such an +easy matter as you expected. If you are hard +up though, it is just possible that I may know +of employment which would suit you." +</p> + +<p> +"You! Do you indeed?" cried Donovan, +eagerly. "But perhaps I shan't be up to it; I +don't mind telling you that, up to a very little +time ago, I never dreamed that I should have +to work for my living; now, through a great +injustice, I am on my own hook, with only a +five-pound note between me and beggary." +</p> + +<p> +"So bad as that," said the stranger, thoughtfully, +"then perhaps you will not be too scrupulous +for the work I was thinking of; you are +certainly well cut out for it. Look! If I treat +you with entire confidence and openness, may I +take it for granted that you will not abuse my +trust?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course," said Donovan, growing interested. +</p> + +<p> +"If you will come with me, then, to my rooms, +I will explain the sort of work which I mean, +you will not of course be bound to accept it if +you don't like it. My name is Frewin; the old +man you met with me the other night is my +father; we are generally called <i>Rouge et Noir</i>." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan smiled at the singular appropriateness +of the nickname. The stranger continued, +</p> + +<p> +"That you may believe me, I will tell you +that it is not all from disinterested motives that +I seek you out and try to help you, no one in +the world goes upon such motives, self-interest +is the great ruling principle; you are admirably +suited to help me in my work, that is my first +reason; I like you and am sorry for you, that is +my second. Now I have made a clean breast +of it all, will you come?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I will," said Donovan, without an +instant's hesitation. He committed himself to +nothing by this, why should he not go? And +besides, these were the first helpful friendly +words which he had heard for so long. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER II. +<br><br> +ROUGE ET NOIR. +</h2> + +<p class="intro"> + The fall thou darest to despise—<br> + May be the angel's slackened hand<br> + Has suffered it that he may rise<br> + And take a firmer, surer stand;<br> + Or, trusting less to earthly things,<br> + May henceforth learn to use his wings.<br> +</p> + +<p class="intro"> + And judge none lost, but wait and see<br> + With hopeful pity, not disdain,<br> + The depth of the abyss may be<br> + The measure of the height of pain,<br> + And love and glory that may raise<br> + This soul to God in after-days.<br> + A. A. PROCTER.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Noir Frewin took his companion up one +of the narrow streets leading from the +river, along the Strand as far as St. Mary's +Church, and through the dingy foot-passage +opening into Drury Lane. +</p> + +<p> +"This is not what you have been accustomed +to, I expect," he said, taking a quick glance at +Donovan's face. "I suppose you've been +putting up at some tip-top hotel by way of +economising." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan coloured a little, for the surmise +was true enough, but there was nothing +impertinent in the man's tone, and he added, +</p> + +<p> +"You'll learn differently as you see more of +life. I've lived in Drury Lane on and off now +for five years, and am in no hurry to leave the +old place, dirty as it is. Here we are!" and he +stopped at the private door of a dingy +picture-dealer's shop, admitted himself and Donovan, +and led the way up a dark staircase to the first +floor. +</p> + +<p> +Expecting a room of corresponding dinginess +and dirtiness, Donovan was not a little +surprised to find himself in a snug neatly-arranged +room, where an odd combination of a variety of +the brightest colours lent an almost Eastern +look to the whole. Curious shells and corals +were ranged on shelves along the walls, maps +and nautical charts hung in conspicuous places, +a case of gorgeous foreign birds occupied the +entire length of the room, and a live parrot, in +a brass cage, hung in one of the windows, +looking at the new-comers with his shrewd, +questioning, round eyes. Leaning back in a +smoking-chair, absorbed in a newspaper, and with a +long clay pipe between his lips, was old Rouge +Frewin, no longer in the irreproachable suit +which Donovan had first seen him in, but wearing +a rough blue serge jacket and red-tasselled +cap. He hurried forward at a word from Noir +with more than his former heartiness and good +humour. +</p> + +<p> +"Delighted to see you, sir. How has the +world gone with you since we parted? I must +introduce myself to you as Captain Frewin, +unless, perhaps, my son has already done so, +Captain Frewin, formerly of the steamer <i>Astick</i>, +Bright Star Line, carrying between Liverpool +and New York, latterly of the <i>Metora</i>—first-rate +little steamer she was, too—carrying +between Southampton and West Africa." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan could hardly keep his countenance, +the whole scene was so irresistibly comic, the +funny old sea-captain, in his red smoking-cap, +gesticulating with his long clay pipe, the odd +room, and the sudden burst of confidence which +had revealed the history of its owner. But his +face clouded again as Rouge asked him the +same question as to his success in finding work +which Noir had put to him on the embankment. +He had only just begun his dispirited answer, +however, when he was interrupted by a loud +nasal voice, which screamed out, "Keep up +your pecker! keep up your pecker!" and +glancing round he met the goggle eyes of the +parrot. It was too much for the gravity +even of depressed, ruined, ill-used Donovan, +he burst out laughing, a natural, hearty, boyish +laugh, such as he had not enjoyed for many months. +</p> + +<p> +"You see Sweepstakes encourages you," said +Noir, tormenting the bird by thrusting a piece +of string through the wires of its cage. +</p> + +<p> +"What's its name?" asked Donovan, still laughing. +</p> + +<p> +"Sweepstakes, we call him," said old Rouge, +coming to the rescue of his pet. "I've had him +for seven years, we're great friends, aren't we, +Sweepstakes?" +</p> + +<p> +"Poor Sweepstakes!" said the bird, with its +head on one side. "Poor Sweepstakes! 'Weep, +'weep, 'weep," and he broke off into an exact +imitation of the street cry. +</p> + +<p> +"We have a little business to talk over," +said Noir, when the parrot subsided at last. +"Suppose," turning to Rouge, "you were to go +to Olliver's and order dinner for three in half an +hour, and we'll meet you there. You won't +refuse to dine with us, I hope," he added, glancing +at Donovan. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! no," said Rouge, heartily. "You +mustn't do that. Besides, I've not half shown +you round our little cabin. I'm very proud of +my curiosities, I can assure you. The bird has +evidently taken to you already. You must +make yourself quite at home." +</p> + +<p> +As soon as the door had closed behind the +old man, Noir Frewin drew up a chair for his +guest, and seating himself opposite, with his +elbows planted on the table, and his chin +between his hands, said, +</p> + +<p> +"And now, if you've the patience to listen, +I will tell you a story. I shall trouble you with +some account of my own life, because only by +that can I show you why it is I take an interest +in you. I hate most of the world. I should +hate you, if you weren't unfortunate, but I see +you are in some way the victim of injustice, +and, as I told you before, I like you. Bear +with me a little. This will all help to explain +the work I propose for you. +</p> + +<p> +"My father, as he told you, was once the +captain of a mail-steamer. He was, of course, +absent most of the year. I lived with my +mother, and as soon as I left school got a +clerkship in a bank at a town—no matter in what +county. Things went very smoothly with us +for a long time, and at last my father, who is a +very warm-hearted man and hated being away +from his home, thought he had saved enough to +retire and settle down in England. He resigned +his ship, and for a few months we lived +on happily enough. I was as contented a +fellow then as you'd often meet with. I liked +my work, and received a good salary; moreover +I was engaged to be married, and the future +looked—well, no matter. I lived in the usual +fool's paradise of a lover." He paused a +moment, as if reviewing from the distance the old +happiness, then, with a bitter sneer, he +continued: "Of course I paid dearly for all this +foolishness. I don't think I was a bad fellow +in those days; goodness knows I'd no excuse +for being so, for my mother was the best +woman in the world. However, though I did well +enough then, I couldn't stand the hard times +that followed. There was a grand row one +day at the bank, for it was found that by some +forgery a cheque for one hundred pounds had +been unlawfully abstracted. Suspicion fell on +all those connected with the bank, and it +narrowed down, as such things do, till it was +clearly proved that either I myself or the son +of the manager had done the deed. Of course +I had not done it—the truth came to light later +on—but at the time everything seemed against +me, and since the manager was not a second +Brutus he was naturally inclined to believe his +son in the right. I don't care to go into all the +misery of that time. There was, of course, a +mockery of a trial. I was found guilty, and +the real perpetrator of the forgery sat in court, +and heard me condemned. I saw him turn +pale when he heard me sentenced to seven +years penal servitude—perhaps, though, he was +only thinking of the danger he had escaped." +</p> + +<p> +"But did he make no effort to save you?" +questioned Donovan. "I shouldn't have thought +a man could have been such an utter brute." +</p> + +<p> +"You have yet to learn the world, then?" +said Noir, with a fierce laugh. "Oh! yes, of +course he was kind enough to do all in his +power to get me recommended to mercy. I +think he hoped for a lighter sentence. +However, what difference did it make to me? I +was sent to Pentonville, and there I ate my +heart for a year. Then I was sent to Dartmoor, +and I think the change just saved me +from madness. That year my mother died. +We had been everything to each other. She +couldn't stand the disgrace which had come to +us, or the separation. I was young, and had to +stand it, but I think from that day I wasn't the +same fellow. The next thing which happened +made me ten degrees worse. In one of my +father's letters—letters are very few and far +between in convict life—I learnt that the girl I +had been engaged to was married to another. +I told you I paid dearly for my fool's paradise. +After that I didn't care what happened. Of +course I had lost my character, and I knew that +it would be next to impossible for me to get +any situation when my term was over. I made +a friend at Dartmoor, a fellow of the name of +Legge, a clever man, too, and good-natured. +We came out at the same time, and he helped +me on a little. But things were worse even +than I had fancied. My father, in his trouble +and loneliness, had fallen into bad ways. I +found that in my seven years' absence he had +become a confirmed drunkard. You can fancy +what a return that was! I could get no +employment, and at last, with Legge's help, I +began to practise my present profession." +</p> + +<p> +"You mean the profession you practised in +the train the other night?" said Donovan. +</p> + +<p> +"Precisely," rejoined Noir, "and I've made +it answer. People may say what they like, but +the world's one great cheat, and I delight in +taking it in unexpectedly. It has ruined me, +why may not I get a little out of it in return! +I told you though that the truth would come to +light, and my innocence came to light in time, +though I didn't care a straw about it then. A year +after I was released from Dartmoor I was traced +out with some difficulty by the manager of +the bank, his son had just died and confessed +to the forgery. The manager tried to express +his great shame and sorrow, hoped he could +make some reparation for the injury, offered me +money—think of that! Money to make up for +the ruin of a whole life! I told him there could +be no reparation—that if he would bring back +my mother from the grave, if he would reclaim +my father, if he would restore me my betrothed, +if he would give me back those wasted seven +years, and give me again the faith in God and +man which had been beaten out of me by the +maddening injustice, then, and only then, +could he repair the injury." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad you've told me all," said Donovan, +when the narrator paused; "yours is a hard +story certainly, bitterly hard. How long is it +since you were released?" +</p> + +<p> +"Five years," said Noir, relapsing into his +ordinary tone, a quiet cold tone, very different from +the one in which he had recounted his wrongs. +"I have lived here with my father chiefly, trying +to keep him in order, but it's a hopeless +task, where the taste is once acquired it's +almost impossible for a weak-minded person to +cure himself. I have lived on, making money +in the way I told you, and the other day when +you got in at the Greyshot Station, there was +something in the look of you that attracted me. +Then you played uncommonly well, and for the +first time in my life I felt sorry that I was +cheating a fellow. Afterwards when you talked +to that capitalist, I took to you still more; +my father had so often been more of a hindrance +than a help, and I couldn't help thinking what +a capital second you would make. That is the +work I propose for you. You should of course +have a certain percentage of the profits, and if +you live with us, all the better; there's a room +at the back which you could have, and though I +suppose it's a very different life from what you've +been used to, still you might do worse, and +I can promise you what I couldn't promise to +another fellow in the world—real honest liking. +Perhaps you will say the friendship of a +professional gambler isn't worth having; however, +such as it is I offer it to you, sometimes +anything is better than nothing. No, don't give +me an answer yet. We'll have dinner now, and +you can think things over for a day or two, and +let me know." +</p> + +<p> +Had Donovan given his answer then, it +would probably have been a refusal, but he +went to the Frewins' club, listened to the +captain's long yarns, grew doubly interested in +Noir, and had a series of brilliant successes at +the card-table. Then he went home—that +is to his hotel, to think over the offer that had +been made to him. All that night he struggled +with his perplexities. On the one hand were +his rich acquaintances coolly, if civilly, refusing +to help him, on the other was the open hospitality +and friendliness of the Frewins; midway +between the two his conscience put in a plea for +a further search after honest work. In his +heart of course he disapproved of the proposed +scheme, but his principles of right and wrong +were somewhat elastic, and just now in his +anger and misery, the good within him was at +a very low ebb. Moreover, it was true enough, +that these Frewins were the only people who +had shown him any kindness, and naturally he +caught at the sympathy and liking of even a bad +man, when it was the only thing to be had; it +was like the old familiar saying of a drowning +man catching at a straw; he may know well +enough that the straw is frail and hollow, but it +is something to lay hold of, if only for a +moment, and in the absence of a better support it +seems worth clinging to. +</p> + +<p> +To say that he made the choice while he was +unconscious of its evil would not be true; some +people are so ready to admit excuses, there are +always so many extenuating circumstances, or +states of mind or body which account for the +fall, that very few sins are put under the head +of "Wilful." But in after years Donovan never +allowed that he had taken the step unconsciously. +Of course sin, taken in its usual sense, +did not now exist for him, but he was perfectly +aware that he was entering upon a wrong and +immoral course; he made the false step desperately +perhaps, but deliberately. The very last +words he had had with Noir Frewin were +sufficient to prove this. +</p> + +<p> +"I may ask your name now?" the man had +said, as they parted. And Donovan, for the +first time in his life, had shrunk from giving it; +how could he let his father's name become the +name of a—but there he checked even his +thoughts, and hastily gave only his Christian +name. +</p> + +<p> +For a little while he thought things over, as +Noir had suggested; it was true there were +ways and means of raising money, but, even if +he had had good security to offer, he would not +have cared to put himself into the hands of a +money-lender. Or there was another alternative; +he had heard Mr. Probyn, Ellis Farrant's +friend, relate proudly the length of time he +had lived "on tick," as he called it—this was +most likely the course which would have been +chosen by nine persons out of ten, had they +been placed in his predicament,—but there was +nothing to commend this expedient to him, +living in debt was simply robbing tradespeople, +there could be no doubt of that; if he must +live by chicanery, he might as well do so in a +more amusing way than by a skilful eluding of +duns, and it was better to cheat fools who +chose to risk their money in a game than +honest shopkeepers. Thus he argued with +himself, what his school-fellows had called "his +crazy ideas of honour" coming out strongly; +but he held fast to his theory, and never had a +single debt. The true and honest course never +once entered into his head; if he had had +sufficient humility to visit his father's solicitor +again and beg his assistance, in all probability +he would have been helped, for in such an +extreme case people are often kind-hearted +enough; but absolutely to throw himself on +anyone's mercy was simply impossible to +Donovan—he was at once too proud and too +distrustful of human nature. +</p> + +<p> +The consideration ended, as might have been +expected, in an acceptance of the Frewins' +offer; in a few days Donovan was established +in Drury Lane, and with all the natural force +of his character, and the retaliatory spirit +produced by Ellis's injustice, and fostered by Noir's +sympathy, had plunged into the lowest and +most painful phase of his life. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Poor old Rouge Frewin was the only gainer +by the new arrangement. He had always disliked +the part his son had made him play, and +to be left at home in peace with his parrot and +his pipe, and as much cognac as he could manage +to get hold of, seemed to him all that heart +could wish. He took the most vehement liking +to Donovan, and, in his odd way, was very kind +to him; the secret of his affection probably lay +in this: the new-comer treated him with respect, +and the poor old captain was now so little used +to such treatment, that it was doubly delightful +to him. +</p> + +<p> +"I am a better fellow since you came," he +would often say, looking up with real affection +in his little watery eyes at the dark handsome +face of his boy-friend—the face which seemed +to grow harder, yet more hopelessly sad every day. +</p> + +<p> +It was a world of nicknames into which Donovan +had fallen; in the club to which he and the +Frewins belonged—a club which was a gaming-house +in everything but the prohibited name—every +member had been dubbed with some sobriquet, +often of singular appropriateness. Noir's +Dartmoor friend for instance was familiarly +known as Darky Legge. The two Frewins had +received their names of Rouge et Noir, and before +very long Donovan, whether he liked it or not, +was invariably addressed as "Milord." The +parrot was the first to draw his attention to it, +but certainly old Rouge must have taught him, +for when ever Donovan came into the room, or +attracted the bird's notice in any way, +Sweepstakes would scream out "Well, milord! Well, +milord!" in his harsh voice, often adding +remarks which were quite the reverse of complimentary. +</p> + +<p> +One morning, while Donovan was sitting in +the little parlour with a cigar and a newspaper, +circumstances combined together in such a way +as to make him for the first time ashamed of +himself. They had been out very late on the +previous night, or rather that morning, and +Noir was lying half asleep on the sofa; as the +clock struck twelve, however, he roused +himself, and with many yawns and stretches +prepared to go out. +</p> + +<p> +"Look here, milord," he said, turning at the +door, "I've an appointment in the City, and +must be off. You'll remember that we've +arranged to go down to Manchester by the evening +express; be in the way about that time, and +I'll join you here on the way to Euston." +</p> + +<p> +"All right," said Donovan, not looking up. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but be sure you remember, for I've +reason to believe we shall make a good thing +of it. Do you hear!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," replied Donovan, shortly. +</p> + +<p> +"What on earth makes you such a sulky +brute to-day? One would have thought the +luck had been against you instead of all on +your side last night," said Noir, glancing at +him rather curiously. His question met with +no reply, however, and with a shrug of the +shoulders he turned away. +</p> + +<p> +When the door had closed behind him, Donovan +threw down his paper, and sat silently +thinking over the words which had stirred long +dormant feelings in his heart. How he disliked +this arranging and scheming!—what paltry +work he was engaged in!—how low and base +and despicable it all was! There was much to +dislike, too, in Noir Frewin; in spite of his +misfortunes, and the consequent sympathy +which had arisen between them, there was +necessarily a great deal in him which was most +repulsive to Donovan. Old Rouge, moreover, +had managed to escape his son's vigilance, and +had made a disgraceful scene on the previous +evening. Altogether, Donovan felt disappointed +with his companions and disgusted with his +work—not yet, unfortunately, with himself. +</p> + +<p> +He could not help feeling sorry, however, for +Rouge when the old man came slowly and +wearily into the room; remembering how his +intemperance had begun, and what a +good-hearted old fellow he was, his contempt and +utter disgust, which had been strongly roused +the previous night, died away into pity. +</p> + +<p> +"Good morning, captain," he said, in his +usual voice, and using the title which he knew +the old man liked better than anything. +</p> + +<p> +"Eh, Donovan, my lad, it's anything but a +good morning," sighed poor Rouge, stretching +himself out on the sofa. "How one does pay +for a little extra enjoyment!" Then, catching +a look of contempt on his companion's face, he +added, piteously, "Don't you turn against me, +lad; I know I'm not what I should be, but don't +you give me up too; everyone despises me +now, everyone looks down on me, and thinks +anything good enough for such a poor old fool. +Don't you take to it too, lad, for you've been +good to the old captain till now." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't wish to change," said Donovan, +"but I hope you won't repeat last night's +amusement. How can you expect anyone to +respect you, when—well, after all, it's no +business of mine." +</p> + +<p> +Rouge sighed heavily. +</p> + +<p> +"Such is life!" screamed the parrot, mimicking the sigh. +</p> + +<p> +Then there was silence in the room for a few +minutes, till the old man broke forth again, this +time with the tears running down his cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm a miserable old sinner, there's no doubt +of that, but I was driven to it. It's easy for +other people to talk who don't know what +temptation is, but I tell you, lad, I was driven +to it. I was lonely and miserable, and there +was more money than I knew what to do +with—how could I help it?" +</p> + +<p> +Donovan did not answer; he crossed the +room, and leant with his back against the +mantelpiece, thinking—thinking more worthy +thoughts than usual, too, for his face had +something of the old bright look upon it, which +nothing had been able to awake since Dot's +death. He liked this poor old man genuinely; +he liked very few people in the world, but +where his love was once given it was very true +and sterling—no mere idle pretence, not a +selfish taking of what can be got, but a real +outgoing from self. Given an object to spend +his love upon, he was capable of immense +self-sacrifice; it was his bitter misanthropy, and his +resolute shutting out of the source of love, +which had so cramped and narrowed his life. +In spite of all his shortcomings, there was much +that was noble in his character; his face was +fall of eager desire as he turned to the old +man—the lofty, almost passionate desire which +must come at times to those who have, if it be +but one spark of the Divine fire, the longing to +turn from evil those who are overwhelmed by +it, to save the weak from temptation. +</p> + +<p> +"Captain," he began, dropping the severe, +yet half contemptuous tone which he had at +first adopted towards the poor old drunkard. +"Captain, I know you had hard times, and +have a great deal of excuse; but things are +different now, and it's your turn to drive back +along the road you were driven. Look, we'll +have a try together; you give up the drink, for +a time at any rate, and so will I." +</p> + +<p> +"Bless my heart!" exclaimed the old captain, +starting up. "Why, my dear fellow, I should +be dead in a month. Do you think, after all +these years, I could give it up in a moment? +Why, it's meat and drink to me; I couldn't live +without it, I tell you." +</p> + +<p> +"More die by drinking than by abstaining," +said Donovan. "I daresay you'd miss it at +first, but you'd soon get over it. You couldn't +be more miserable than you are this morning +after your last night's carouse." +</p> + +<p> +"But to turn teetotaler!" exclaimed Rouge. +"Why, milord, you'd never hear the last of it +at the club; we should be the laughing-stock of +the place." +</p> + +<p> +"And do you think that you were not their +laughing-stock last night?" said Donovan. +"Better be laughed at as a teetotaler than as +a drunkard. Plain-speaking, you will say, +captain; but you and I don't generally mince +matters. Come, agree to my bargain, and my +respect for you will rise ten degrees." +</p> + +<p> +"You don't think it would kill me, then?" +hesitated Rouge. +</p> + +<p> +"Stuff! more likely to add ten years to your +life," said Donovan. "Come, now, we'll each +sign an agreement to give it up for—say three +months." +</p> + +<p> +"So long," groaned poor Rouge. "Think +of the dulness! Why, what will life be worth?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not much, indeed," said Donovan, "but +more than your present life, at any rate." +</p> + +<p> +And then, after a little more discussion and +hesitation, the papers were signed. +</p> + +<p> +By-and-by the old captain fell asleep on the +sofa, and Donovan went out to get his lunch, +and to test the desirability of water-drinking. +In the afternoon he for the first time made his +way to the park, with a sort of desire to see the +side of the world from which he had been ejected, +the gay fashionable world in which only a year +before he had moved. Lighting a cigar, he sat +down on one of the benches, and scanned the +faces of the passing crowd, wondering whether +he should see any of his old acquaintance, longing, +though he would hardly admit it to himself, +for a sight of his mother. Before he had been +seated many minutes, a rather prim-looking +lady and a bright-faced girl passed by, +hesitated a moment, and then took the vacant +places on the bench beside him. +</p> + +<p> +"We have still half an hour before the +appointment; do let us sit here—it is such fun to +watch the people." It was a clear girlish voice +which said this, and Donovan involuntarily +looked round at the speaker, a little curious to +see who it was who could find pleasure in what +to him was so full of bitterness. +</p> + +<p> +A fair, rounded face, sunny hair, and +well-opened blue-grey eyes. Where had he seen +her before? Somewhere, surely, for he remembered +the face distinctly now. It was one he +had watched and admired—and he admired +very few women. He must have heard her +speak too, for he recognised her rather unusual +voice—a voice in every way suited to the face, +mellow and full of tone, with a great gaiety +and happiness ringing in it, softening off +tenderly now and then into earnestness. He had +met dozens of girls last season, but somehow +she did not seem like a London girl; she was +too fresh and simple. Where could he have +seen her? +</p> + +<p> +He listened with a good deal of interest to all +she said, though it was nothing in the least +remarkable, merely comments on the passers-by, +and a laughing defence of fashionable people, +when her companion complained of the frivolity +and uselessness of their lives. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, auntie, I shall think it is because you +and I are on foot and the grand people are +driving that you find fault with them; don't +you remember the French proverb about the +pedestrians commenting on the carriage people?" +</p> + +<p> +"My dear, I should be very sorry to change +places with them," answered the prim-looking lady. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, auntie, you would, I daresay, but really +some people just complain of rich people +because they envy them, I'm quite sure they do." +</p> + +<p> +This was rather a home-thrust to Donovan, +he threw away his cigar, and listened more +attentively, but the conversation drifted away to +other things, home matters evidently, details +and allusions which came very strangely to +him in his semi-vagrant life—the last letters +there had been from Dick—Nesta's quickness +in reading—how father and mother meant to +come up to town before they left. He listened to +it all half sadly, half amusedly, it was a glimpse +of such a different life from his own, such a simple, +innocent, pure life, with such strangely different +interests! An unaffected girl, sweet, and bright, +and pure-minded, how black his life seemed in +contrast with hers! Musing on this he lost the +thread of their conversation, and as they rose +to go he only caught the words, "Yes, I know +he doesn't profess much, but he's such a good +man, the sort of man one can trust." +</p> + +<p> +A man one can trust! how she leant on that +last word! and with what a sharp thrill it +pierced Donovan's ear. What would she have +said of him had she known the sort of work he +was engaged upon? He was quite glad she +had moved away, for he did not feel fit to be +near her. He had disliked Noir Frewin's plan +in the morning, now he shrank from it doubly, +in the brief revelation of purity, something of +his own true character had been brought to the +light, he began to see very faintly indeed, but +still to see in some degree his own falseness and +blackness. +</p> + +<p> +He would not go with Noir that evening; it +would involve some trouble, no doubt, if he did +not keep his appointment, Noir would be +exceedingly vexed, there would inevitably be a +quarrel when he returned from Manchester, and +of course he would lose the opportunity of +enriching himself, but he would not go, with the +light of those clear grey eyes fresh in his +memory he felt that he really could not. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely had he made this resolution when +he caught sight of his mother's victoria; there +was Ellis Farrant looking just as usual, and +beside him was Mrs. Farrant. She was leaning +back in the carriage so that Donovan only +saw her face for an instant, but he fancied that +she looked a little paler than usual, a little sad +and worried. The sight moved him not a +little, he felt a great longing to see her again, +and in the evening, not caring to return to +Drury Lane, or to go to the club he was in the +habit of frequenting, for fear of meeting the +Frewins, he turned instead in the direction of +Connaught Square. There was the house he +knew so well, the house which ought to have +been his, with its balconies gay with flowers, +and a brougham standing before the door. His +mother was probably going out, he would wait +and see her an she came down the steps, but he +would not himself be seen, that would be too +humiliating, he would wait a little way off, and +crossing the road, he leant with his back against +the square railings. It was a strange watch; +bitter feelings mingled with the returning +family love as he stood there in the summer +twilight; it was hard, even his most stern +condemner would have been forced to allow that! +He was standing alone in the street, cast off by +those who should have helped him, watching +their comfort and luxury from his state of +misery and conscious sin. Instinctively he took +up poor Rouge's cry, "He has driven me to +it—how can I help going to the dogs, it is his +fault!" +</p> + +<p> +And then the house door opened, and one of +the footmen came out to the carriage. Donovan +watched eagerly, and his breath came fast and +hard. There was his mother, quite placid and +happy-looking now, with a white Chuddah over +her shoulders, and a diamond star in her hair, +and there was Ellis, with his opera hat, and his +false smiling face, and his shallow politeness. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, judging by the outward +appearance, there could have been no question which +was the more to be pitied, the rich man stepping +into his carriage, or the unjustly used outcast +who looked on in writhing bitterness of soul; +but in reality Donovan's misery was as nothing +compared with his step-father's. Years of plotting +and scheming, years of growing deterioration, +harassing anxiety, and patient waiting, all +this had Ellis gone through, and for what? +For a rich wife, a town house, and a country +house, accompanied by an ever-present +remorse, a nameless terror of discovery, a +wretched sense of shame, and a haunting dread +of his victim Donovan. The good was striving +within him, it would not abandon him, would +not for a moment let him enjoy his unjust gains; +he fought against it with all his strength, and +tried to be careless and comfortable, but he +fought in vain. +</p> + +<p> +They went to the opera that evening and +heard "Faust"; it stung him as no sermon +would have done. How like his part had been +to that of Mephistopheles! how deliberately he +had planned his step-son's harm! And above +the voices of singers and chorus, above the +grand orchestral accompaniment, there rang in +his ears one sharp despairing sentence, +"Remember how you have goaded me on to ruin!" +</p> + +<p> +Faust and Margherita were nothing to him. +He hardly noticed the beautiful little <i>prima +donna</i>. It was the grim basso, with his red +livery, his stealthy yet rapid movements, his +satanic look of triumphant cunning, who preached +to him that night, as no clergyman in surplice +and stole, or gown and Geneva bands, had +ever preached to him. In the "serenata," +where Mephistopheles sings his mocking song +of triumph to the guitar, and augurs further +successes for himself, Ellis sat actually shuddering +at the horrible sense of likeness. The song +was encored. He could bear it no longer, but +shrank back into the very furthest corner of +the box, trying not to see or hear. By-and-by +it was all over, and Ellis, with a grey face, +forced up a smile, and tried to talk in his +ordinary way, as he led his wife to the carriage. +But the effort was intolerable; he was, in truth, +a miserable man that night, but happier had he +known it for that very misery. It was the +sign of that other Presence within him which will +not leave us to an unequal struggle with evil. +</p> + +<p> +Donovan, seeing only the prosperous, +outward show, knowing nothing of all the real +remorse, watched the carriage drive off with +feelings which in their vehemence are quite +indescribable. He was almost terrified himself +at the storm of hatred, and anger, and wild +longing for revenge that took possession of his +heart, as well he might be, owning nothing to +quell it but the power of his own will. He +stood quite still, his face pale and rigid with +that terrible white-hot passion, the overmastering +passion in which great crimes are often +committed. In his madness nothing was too +dark for him to contemplate, no revenge too +sharp to be resolved upon. He had grasped +hold of the iron railing of the garden, +involuntarily turning away his face from the houses. +A voice close to his ear made him start. If the +good still strove with Ellis Farrant, still more +did it lead Donovan, who was more sinned +against than sinning, and to him no fiend like +Mephistopheles came to scare and terrify, but a +little child was sent to lead him. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you want to come in? I thought I saw +you tugging so at the gate, and I came to ask +you." +</p> + +<p> +A little girl of nine or ten was addressing +him, looking shyly through the iron bars of the +gate. No child had spoken to him since Dot +had died. This seemed to him like a voice +from the grave, and instinctively, even at the +remembrance of the love which he deemed all a +thing of the past, lost to him for ever, the evil +thoughts and the revengeful anger died out of +his heart. +</p> + +<p> +"I should like to come in," he said, in reply +to the question, "but I have no key." +</p> + +<p> +"I will ask the Fräulein to open the gate," +said the little girl, and she ran across the +garden, returning in a few minutes with a German +lady, who looked up from her knitting rather +curiously to see this gentleman who was waiting +for admittance. It was easily explained. +He had not a key, but he pointed to his mother's +house in the square. The Fräulein, without any +demur, unlocked the gate and admitted him. +</p> + +<p> +He had not often been into the garden before, +but two or three times he had brought Dot +there in her invalid chair, and the place was +therefore sacred to him. He went at once to +her favourite seat, and there, in the cool of the +summer evening, better thoughts returned to +him. It had been a hot day. The children +were all enjoying the change; they had the +garden almost to themselves, and, as they +played, their laughter and chatter floated to +him. It was what he wanted; something innocent, +and pure, and merry. A faint, very faint +return of little Dot's influence came back to +him, and when he left the garden again he +was a better man. +</p> + +<p> +Drury Lane had never seemed to him so +dingy as when he returned to it that evening. +A street-organ was playing a popular air in one +part, and a crowd of wretched-looking +bare-headed girls were dancing on the pavement. +Every now and then he passed one of those +appalling courts or alleys which open into the +lane, and, pausing once or twice, he caught a +glimpse of the seething human crowd, the filth +and misery which they lived in; then on again +past the shabby gaslit shops, the disreputable-looking +passengers, until he almost fell over a +little child who ought to have been in bed long +before, but who was sitting on the curb-stone, +grubbing with both hands in a heap of mud in +the gutter. Donovan was very tender over +little children. He stooped down at once to +see whether he had hurt the small elf. A pair +of dancing blue eyes looked up at him from a +dirty little face, and something very unsavoury +was held towards him, while, with the confidence +of a great discoverer, the elf shouted, gleefully, +</p> + +<p> +"See what I've got! A real old duck's foot! +A real old duck's foot!" +</p> + +<p> +It was a very pitiful sight, but it touched +Donovan; he dropped a penny into the hand +which was not occupied with the new treasure +and went away moralizing, till, reaching the +print-shop, he drew out his key and went +up the stairs to the deserted rooms, for even +Rouge was gone, and, for the next three days, +Donovan was left to the tender mercies of Waif +and Sweepstakes. +</p> + +<p> +He lit the gas and took up a book, but the +bird awaking caught sight of him, and instantly +began in his most scolding tones, +</p> + +<p> +"Well, milord, aint you a fool! Oh, lor, aint +you a fool!" +</p> + +<p> +Evidently the Frewins had not made any +complimentary remarks upon his absence, and +doubtless poor Rouge had hardly been fit for +the journey. But he could not help it; if he +had not seen that bright-faced girl, and been so +shamed by her unconscious words, it would +have been different. What a strange glimpse +of another kind of life she had given him! +</p> + +<p> +Sweepstakes sat with his shrewd grey head +on one side, and his crimson tail feathers +drooped; before long, with a wicked look in his +round eyes, he began to say plaintively, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Be yit fever so wumble,<br> + There's no place li k'ome."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"Be quiet," said Donovan, sharply, for the +words did not at all suit his present frame of +mind. +</p> + +<p> +But Sweepstakes only reiterated, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Be yit t'ever so wumble,<br> + There's no place like—"<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Donovan made a dash at the cage with a +cloth and interrupted the song, a proceeding +which enraged the parrot. +</p> + +<p> +"You go to Tophet!" he screamed, angrily, +and then, being out of temper, he swore for +five minutes on end, till, for the sake of peace, +Donovan had to make up the quarrel. +</p> + +<p> +But there was a good deal of obstinacy about +Sweepstakes, and, though he allowed his anger +to be appeased by a Brazil nut, he treated +Donovan for the rest of the evening to a mild +muttered refrain of "Be yit ever so wumble, +umble, umble——" <i>ad infinitum</i>. +</p> + +<p> +For the first time since he had been in +London, Donovan that night went to his room +early; he had got into the habit of turning +night into day. But he was dull that evening +and tired, and it was not much after half-past +eleven when he left Sweepstakes for the night +and turned into his own shabby little room at +the back. A dreary lodging-house bed-room it +was, with a strip or two of carpet thrown down +over the dirty unscrubbed floor, a mouldering +green wall-paper, and over the fireplace one +solitary picture in a gilt frame black with age, +a dingy sea-piece in oils, a ship being dashed to +pieces on rocks. A room is said to show in a +certain fashion the character of its occupant; +there were only four things here which could +in any way bear traces of Donovan's individuality. +On the mantelpiece was Dot's cathedral +clock, in one corner a great bath, on the chest +of drawers one or two anti-theological books +by Luke Raeburn, and at the foot of the bed a +woolly rug for Waif. +</p> + +<p> +The window was open; it looked out on to +that fearful net-work of byeways and alleys +which Donovan had seen as he came home. He +had often seen them before, but one can see +many times and yet never observe. He had +generally gone to his room between three and +four in the morning when all was quiet +enough; this evening it was just after closing +time; the public-houses had let loose their +wretched throng, and the cry of the city went +up to heaven. People talk of the noise of +London, and think generally of the street +traffic, the crowded pavements, and the ceaseless +wheels, but let them once hear the appalling +noise of human life in a poor quarter, and +they will not complain of anything else. Wild, +drunken singing, fierce quarrels, blows, cursing, +a Babel of tongues, a wailing of children, angry +disputes between men and women, in which too +often the woman's voice in its awful harshness +seems unlike that of a human creature. These +are the sounds one may hear, the fearful realities +which make up the dark side of the world's +metropolis. +</p> + +<p> +Donovan stood beside the open window and +let all this tide of human wretchedness beat +upon his ear. He was shocked and awed, +struck with a great pity and indignation, for +he was not hard-hearted, only narrow-hearted, +and though this crampedness kept him from +action it did not prevent the great suffering of +humanity from touching him with a sense of +pity. The incomprehensible suffering! what a +mystery it was! it made him wretched and +pitiful, and yet angry, though where the fault +of all lay he could not have said. Christianity, +or rather the horribly false notions of Christianity +which he had received, would have said +that all these drunkards and degraded beings +were forging the chains which should bind +them for ever and ever in hell; according to +Mrs. Doery's ideas the West End must have +seemed the region of the elect, and Drury Lane +the abode of that other numerous band who +were foredoomed to everlasting torture. +Perhaps almost naturally Donovan had a fellow +feeling for sinners, for in his very young days, +when he had for a short time believed in what +he was taught, he had fully made up his mind +that Doery was one of the elect, and that he +had better go to the other place; now from his +atheism, with which he persuaded himself he +was quite contented, he looked back with pity, +and yet with a little amusement, on the picture +of his sturdy defiant childhood, which preferred +even the awfully described fiery furnaces to +companionship with Doery in an unjust and +partial favour. +</p> + +<p> +He turned away from the window at last, +but not till he had closed it and drawn down +the blind; he shut out the misery of his fellows +as he shut out many other things, for at present +he was one of those who as Coleridge puts it— +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + "Sigh for wretchedness, yet shun the wretched."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +It was not to be expected that the passing +words of a stranger would be sufficient to alter +the whole current of Donovan's life, nor did +Gladys Tremain exercise such an unheard of +influence. The Frewins returned, and after +sundry upbraidings from Rouge and a sharp +quarrel with Noir, things fell back again to +their former state. +</p> + +<p> +Once, quite unexpectedly, he met the grey-eyed +stranger again, two or three weeks after +their encounter in the park. It was a July +evening, the Frewins, Legge, Donovan, and +two or three other men were travelling up +together from Goodwood. The train was crowded; +Mrs. Causton and Gladys, who had been +spending the day with some friends, were +waiting on the platform of a station not far from +Chichester, but they found it almost impossible +to get places. +</p> + +<p> +"Such a dreadful crowd, and such disagreeable-looking +people," said poor Mrs. Causton, +nervously, "what is the reason of it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Goodwood races, mum," said the porter, +wondering at her ignorance, "there's room for +one in here, and one next door; come, miss, the +train's just starting." +</p> + +<p> +"My dear! you can't go alone in there," said +Mrs. Causton, distractedly, looking at the not +too reputable travellers, but the next carriage +was every bit as bad, the train began to move, +there was really no help for it, whether she liked +it or not, Gladys was shut in alone among +this strange-looking crew. She knew there +was nothing to fear, but at the same time it was +a very uncomfortable predicament, a fast girl +would have been amused by such a novel +adventure, but Gladys was not fast, she was a +pure womanly woman, and though she could +not have explained why, she had a peculiar +shrinking from these people. The little +conversation at the door too had attracted the +notice of a coarse-looking man who was sitting +next her; he turned round upon her with a +cool inquisitive stare, and then made some +remark to his neighbour on the other side which +caused a general laugh, and Gladys, though she +would not have understood a word even had. +she heard, felt the colour flame up in her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +"Why can't you behave decently?" said a +voice from the other side of the carriage. +</p> + +<p> +"Rouge, it's your deal." +</p> + +<p> +Then Gladys, who had instinctively lowered +her eyes, looked up, for the attention of the +passengers was diverted from her; with an +overcoat spread over their knees, by way of a +table, they were soon absorbed in a game of +"Nap." She looked round at their faces with +a sort of longing to find one from which she +need not shrink; all seemed bad, or coarse, or +in some way repulsive; exactly opposite her +was an elderly man fast asleep, next to him +was the one who had called his companions to +order. Gladys looked at his face half hopefully, +the voice had at least been refined, and the +words—well, the best she had heard in this +company. The face too was not otherwise than +refined, the features were strikingly handsome, +there were no tokens of excess about the clear +dark complexion, but oh! what a hard bitter +saturnine look there was about the whole; he +was evidently much younger than any of his +companions, yet not one of them looked so +reckless and hardened, still she felt that he +was a gentleman, and was at once less +uncomfortable and forlorn; apparently he took not +the slightest notice of her, and that was +pleasant after the uncomfortable rude staring and +comments. +</p> + +<p> +It was a very strange and very sad revelation +to her—a side of life which she had heard +of indeed, but had never in the least realised; +the temptations of the world, the flesh, and the +devil had never shaped themselves in her +thoughts into anything half so terrible as this. +She had felt impatient when Mrs. Causton had +lamented the temptations of London life for +Stephen, yet the danger was no imaginary one, +for here was one who could not be older than +Stephen or Dick surrounded by evil companions, +gambling with a recklessness and <i>sang +froid</i> which bespoke long habit. There was a +sort of horrible fascination in it all, she could +not help watching the eager faces; on all of +them was written the strong desire of gain, on +all, except that one dark saturnine face +opposite her, which, though apparently caring for +little else but the game, never seemed to +unbend, in spite of repeated successes. Gladys +watched him as he pocketed his winnings, +watched pityingly his unmoved face, and once +he looked up and their eyes met. It was not a +look from which she need shrink; the eyes were +not bad eyes—they were very strange, +hungry-looking, sad ones. She understood then why +he was so different from his companions—evidently +in his heart he disliked the life he was +leading. By-and-by a dispute arose, a fierce, +loud altercation between her disagreeable +neighbour and one of the other men; language +such as she had never heard was shouted across +the carriage, the lookers-on laughed. Poor +Gladys glanced across in despair to the one +passenger in whom she had any faith; he was +leaning back with a look of ineffable disgust +and weariness on his handsome face, but, as +the angry Babel grew louder, he turned to +Gladys; she hardly knew whether she were +relieved or only more frightened when he bent +forward to speak to her. +</p> + +<p> +"This must be very unpleasant for you," he +said, and she knew at once from his manner +that she had found a protector. "We shall be +at a station in a minute or two, and then, if +you like, I will offer to change places with the +lady you are with." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! thank you so much," said Gladys, her +frightened eyes brightening with gratitude and +relief. "My aunt is in the next carriage, if you +really wouldn't mind——" +</p> + +<p> +"Not in the least; I wish I had thought of it +before, that you might have been saved this +unpleasantness." +</p> + +<p> +Then, without another word, he returned to +his former position, but with a less hard and +contemptuous expression than before. The +others appealed to him for his opinion in the +matter of the dispute, and he spoke coldly and +quietly, but evidently what he said was to the +point; the disputants quieted down, and agreed +to some sort of compromise. At last, to Gladys' +intense relief, they reached the station. +Donovan got up and let down the window, then, +looking back, said carelessly, +</p> + +<p> +"You can leave me out in the next deal; I'm +going to change carriages." +</p> + +<p> +The announcement caused a chorus of inquiry. +</p> + +<p> +"What's up with milord now?" asked Gladys' neighbour. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! some craze, I suppose," said a dark-browed +man on the other side of the carriage; +"he took a moral fit the other night, and rushed +away no one knew where. There's no reckoning +on him—'a wilful man must have his'—— Why, +what's this?" as Donovan returned to +help Mrs. Causton in. "We didn't reckon on +this, at any rate. Donovan, what <i>are</i> you +thinking of?" +</p> + +<p> +"A cigar in peace next door," he replied +readily; and then he retreated, leaving Gladys +greatly relieved, and the card-players not a +little embarrassed by the large bundle of tracts +which Mrs. Causton began to distribute among +them. At London Bridge they saw him again +for a minute, and Mrs. Causton pressed two +tracts into his hand and thanked him for his +courtesy. Gladys looked up at him shyly and +gratefully, but did not speak again, except, as +he raised his hat and turned away, to utter one +earnest-toned "good-bye." He heard it, and +treasured it up in his heart—a wish, he knew +it was, no mere formal parting, but the wish of +a pure-minded woman that good might be with him. +</p> + +<p> +Gladys watched sadly as Noir Frewin rejoined +her protector; he was thoroughly out of temper, +as she had seen on the journey, and greeted his +companion with a torrent of angry reproaches. +Gladys caught only a word or two here and +there—"Confounded folly!—playing fast and +loose with the agreement!"—and one bitter +taunt—"A pretty knight-errant to help +distressed ladies, such as you, a professional——" +</p> + +<p> +But the word gambler did not reach Gladys. +She did not then learn what a life Donovan was +leading, but she had seen and heard quite +enough to know that he was in great need of +help, and from that night he always had a +place in her prayers. Without that how could +she have borne the revelation of evil and +wretchedness, the contrast between the shielded +life of those she knew, and the life of constant +temptation of these her fellow-creatures. +Painful as the evening's experience had been, she +could not altogether regret it. In after-life she +thanked God for that brief journey, upon which +had hinged so much. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER III. +<br><br> +"THE RAVEN FOR A GUIDE." +</h2> + +<p class="intro"> + What thou wouldst highly<br> + That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,<br> + And yet wouldst wrongly win.<br> + <i>Macbeth.</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="intro"> + Till life is coming back, our death we do not feel,<br> + Light must be entering in, our darkness to reveal.<br> + ARCHBISHOP TRENCH.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +As the autumn wove on, both the dog and his +master began to show traces of the life +they were living. Poor Waif pined for the +country. He had always been his master's +companion in his long rides and walks, and +town life was of course a great and very +undesirable change for him. Donovan, too, lost +his strength considerably. It was an unhealthy +life he was leading, full of the worst kind of +excitement; at times idle and unoccupied, at +times full of fatigue. Naturally, too, his state +of mind told on his physical strength. The +year beginning with the terrible strain of little +Dot's death, had brought him overwhelming +grief; the long spring months had been spent +in a fierce inward struggle, a vain search for +peace; then had followed his quarrel with Ellis +and his expulsion from Oakdene, and ever since +that he had been in the poisoned atmosphere of +the society into which Noir Frewin had led him. +No wonder that as the winter advanced he +began to fail; even the Frewins, who were not +more observant of such trivial matters than +selfish people usually are, noticed at last that +something was wrong. +</p> + +<p> +"There's no getting a rise out of the boy +now," observed Rouge, one December afternoon. +"I don't know what's come to him, unless, as I +expect, it's this absurd fad he's taken into his +head about water-drinking. I told him it was +enough to kill a fellow to give it up all at once +like that. I should have died that very week, +if I'd kept my agreement." +</p> + +<p> +Noir gave a contemptuous sneer. +</p> + +<p> +"No fear of your dying in that way, at any +rate. I wonder Donovan was ever such a fool +as to think you'd give it up. He is an odd fish. +There's no making him out." +</p> + +<p> +Rouge glanced at the subject of all this talk, +who was lying asleep on the sofa, and then for +the first time he noticed how worn and thin he +was. All the boyishness had gone from his +face now. +</p> + +<p> +"I say, Noir, he looks to me uncommonly +queer," said the old captain. "I've seen one or +two fellows look like that before now. There +was one, I remember, on the <i>Metora</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Pooh! I daresay many of them looked +badly enough before they'd found their +sea-legs," said Noir, coolly. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, the fellow I mean died," said the +captain, impressively. "And I must say milord +does look to me awfully out of health." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! nonsense. He's only seedy—a cold, or +something of that sort. We got drenched the +other night coming from Legge's place. It's +time we were starting. Just wake him up." +</p> + +<p> +Rouge complied, and Donovan started up at +once, and looked sleepily at his watch. +</p> + +<p> +"Time to go? Oh! I'd forgotten. It's this +Brighton scheme." +</p> + +<p> +He looked wretchedly ill and tired, not at all +fit to turn out of the warm room into the cold +drizzle of the December twilight, but he was +not one to shirk an engagement for the sake of +mere bodily disinclination, and there was no +one to tell him what madness it was to trifle +with such a severe chill as he had taken. He +drew on his great-coat, and without a word +stood waiting for Noir, who was sorting his +cards on a side-table. +</p> + +<p> +"Take my advice," said Rouge, paternally, +"and have something just to hearten you up +before you go. With such a cold you want +something to warm the cockles of your heart." +</p> + +<p> +For the moment Donovan was strongly tempted. +He did feel very much in need of some such +comfort, but his hesitation was but momentary. +He knew that his only hope of influencing the +old captain lay in the steadiest adherence to his +plan of abstinence. The three months of the +agreement were over, but, though Rouge had +long ago broken his pledge, his companion's +example had often kept him from excess, and +Donovan knew well enough that even for his +own sake the safe-guard was a very good +thing. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! as to the cockles of one's heart," he +said, laughing, "that's all bosh; one only takes +cold the easier, as any doctor would tell you. +Present loss, future gain, is our motto to-day; +ought to bag a good many head of game to +make up for turning out in this wet mist. +Good-bye, captain; look after Waif." +</p> + +<p> +And then Noir and his young accomplice set +out on their expedition. As they passed the +window of the print-shop, Donovan involuntarily +paused. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, there's your very double," he said, +laughing; and, in spite of the rain, Noir stopped +to see what he meant. +</p> + +<p> +It was an old print of Brunei the engineer. +The curious forehead and eyebrows, and the +general cast of countenance, certainly bore a +strong resemblance to Noir, though the +expression was very different. Underneath, in +copper-plate, was written the couplet— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Whose public works will best attest his fame,<br> + Whilst private worth adds value to his name."<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +It was rather a curious contrast to Noir Frewin's +life, and the words stung him. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well!" he said, with his bitter laugh, +"my 'public works' are not of the first water, +perhaps; you needn't give me that epitaph." +</p> + +<p> +The Brighton expedition proved a great +success. Noir and Donovan returned in two +or three days' time well content. They had +chosen an evening train to come back by. +Noir went on as usual to select a favourable +carriage; Donovan followed him more leisurely, +for it answered their purpose best not to appear +to be companions. Donovan's part was usually +that of a decoy, a well-to-do, gentlemanly-looking +fellow who consented to play, and thus +induced others to try their hand. Noir had +this evening chosen a most auspicious-looking +carriage full of young men returning to town, +for it was the week after Christmas, and, the +brief holiday being over, many had chosen this +late train to take them back to the busy +London life again. Scarcely had they left the +station, however, when Noir's countenance +suddenly fell; two or three of the passengers were +commenting on a placard which, printed in +large letters, was put up on the side of the +carriage. He was vexed and disconcerted, for it +effectually put an end to his schemes for the +journey. With a slight warning pressure on +his companion's foot, he drew his attention to +the placard which was above his head. Not in +the least knowing what to expect, Donovan +took off his hat and put it in the netting, thus +getting an opportunity of turning round, and +there, staring at him in large type, were words +which he never forgot, words which seemed to +burn themselves in upon his brain at the very +first reading. "Caution. Passengers are +earnestly recommended to beware of pickpockets +and card-sharpers dressed as gentlemen," £c, &c. +He could read no further; he fell back into his +place like one stunned, then the hot colour +rushed to his cheeks, mounted higher and +higher till his whole face seemed to burn and +tingle. Had he actually come to this? Was +he, Donovan Farrant, a cheat against whom the +public must be warned, classed with pickpockets? +He, his father's only son, had sunk +so low then, that this description would apply +to him—a "card-sharper dressed as a +gentleman!" That moment's sharp realisation was +terrible. Noir, anxious to veil his sudden +confusion, held out a newspaper to him; but he +only shook his head, and the elder man, who +was merely annoyed by the occurrence, began +to feel alarmed at the strange effect the caution +had had on his accomplice. Such misery, such +shame, were written on his face that Noir began +to fear he should lose his able assistance. +</p> + +<p> +They got out at London Bridge, and he linked +his arm within Donovan's with an anxious +attempt at raillery. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, milord, what made you play such a +false card just now, colouring up like a girl at +a mere piece of paper? I gave you credit for +more self-control." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan bit his lip; the last words vexed +him, and changed the current of his thoughts, +for he rather prided himself on his powers of +self-control, which were indeed considerable. +</p> + +<p> +"It startled me," he confessed, after a brief +silence. Then again, with a slight hesitation, +"Noir, do you consider yourself a card-sharper?" +</p> + +<p> +The question was asked with a kind of innocence +which made Noir shudder; he forced up a +mocking laugh, however. +</p> + +<p> +"Ask a thief if he considers himself a thief, +and he will tell you 'no,' but a professional +adept, with a gift for acquiring other people's +property." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan winced. +</p> + +<p> +"If that's the definition of a thief, you and I +belong pretty much to the same class." +</p> + +<p> +Noir wrenched away his arm. +</p> + +<p> +"And what do I care if we do?" he cried, +angrily; "I don't know what makes you so +cantankerous to-night. Have you forgotten your +favourite maxim, that the world is a mass of +injustice, and that a little more or less evil +makes no difference? You stand by that, and +I'll undertake to stand by you, for the world is +unjust, and I delight in cheating it when I've +the opportunity. If you're going to turn +moral, milord, we'll dissolve partnership at once, +and you can go back to those fine friends you +know, who were so ready to help you before +you came to us." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan did not reply to this taunt, he only +shivered and drew his comforter over his mouth. +He felt worn out and giddy, his steps began to +falter, and Noir, who in his strange rough +fashion loved him, forgot his anger, and taking his +arm again, half dragged him home. +</p> + +<p> +"The fact is, you're seedy and down in the +mouth, Donovan," he said, as they reached their +rooms, "you'll see things very differently +to-morrow." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan did not answer, he stumbled up the +dark staircase after Noir, and followed him into +the parlour. There, with the gas flaring, a huge +fire blazing up the chimney, and supper waiting +on the table, was the old captain; his hearty +welcome was generally pleasant enough, but +this evening Donovan felt he could not stand it. +He was half perished with cold and involuntarily +made for the fire, but it was only for a +minute, the warm comfortable room was not in +keeping with his doubt and misery. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Double, double,<br> + Toil and trouble,"<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +sang Sweepstakes, following the tall dark +figure with his shrewd eye, +"Double—double—dou-ble——dou—ble." +</p> + +<p> +"First-rate luck all three days," Noir was +saying. "To-night our little game was stopped, +and milord's down in the depths. Here, Donovan, +come to supper, we didn't get much of a +feed at Brighton." +</p> + +<p> +But Donovan shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"Good night, captain," he said, and, disregarding +Rouge's remonstrances, left the room. +He opened his own door, and Waif, with whines +of delight, sprang to greet him. +</p> + +<p> +"Waif—poor old fellow!" he exclaimed, +stooping for a minute over the dog, but hastily +raising himself again. "No, no, down, get +down, I say, I'm not fit to touch you." +</p> + +<p> +Poor Waif was utterly bewildered, his master +had never spoken to him in that way before, +something must be wrong, very much wrong. +It was dark, but the faintest glimmer of light +from the uncurtained window served to show +him that his master had thrown himself on the +ground, it was a sure sign that he was in trouble, +Waif knew that perfectly well, and did not +just at first dare to interrupt him; he walked +disconsolately round and round him, stopping. +every minute or two to sniff at him, listen, +whine in a subdued way. +</p> + +<p> +Donovan was beyond dog help just then, in +the depth of his self-abasement he could not +sink low enough, in his abject self-loathing to +be touched by a being whom he loved would +have been unbearable. He had known well +enough that he was doing wrong before. +Something of his blackness had been borne in +upon him when Gladys Tremain had spoken +those words in the Park, but now it was all +before him, in hideous array, the very vision of +sin itself. How could he have delighted in +anything so ghastly? it was not even a great +revenge he had taken on the unjust world, but +the pettiest, meanest, most despicable revenge. +What had he not fallen to in these months? why, +these hands of his—the hands that had waited +on Dot—had stooped to pick up paltry +half-crowns won by cheating foolish wretches in a +railway-carriage. And then came the +remembrance of his father. "You are hardly in a +position, Dono, to speak of breaches of honour." Not +even then! oh! what would his father have +said to him now! Yet little as he had known of +him, that little was enough to tell him that his +father would always think more of the future +than of the past. There was a future for him +even now, he must no longer wage war upon the +unjust world, he must—he <i>would</i> alter his way of +living if only for the sake of redeeming his +father's name. But for the first time in his life +he felt a want in himself, that agony of remorse, +despair, utter self-abhorrence had done its +work, he was no longer blindly confident in his +own strength. +</p> + +<p> +Presently from sheer exhaustion he fell asleep. +Waif was happier when he heard the deep +regular breaths; a strange process of thinking +began in the dog mind. He went back to his +woolly rug and lay down, but in a minute +jumped up again, ran to his master, licked his +hand, and then returned to his rug. Still he +could not settle himself to sleep, a second and a +third time he got up, making an uneasy circuit +round the prostrate figure on the ground. At +last, as if unable to lie on his rug while +Donovan was on the floor, he curled himself up at +his feet, and there slept peacefully. +</p> + +<p> +In the adjoining room Noir, having made a +hearty meal, drew up his chair to the fire and +lighted his evening pipe. The old captain was +evidently uneasy. Noir was uneasy, too, in +reality, but he kept it to himself. +</p> + +<p> +"He's a very queer customer that lad," said +Rouge, meditatively. "You think it really is +this piece of paper which frightened him?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, he's young," said Noir, in an excusing +tone. "It gave him a turn, I daresay it will +soon pass off. If not we must get a little +change somehow. It wouldn't be a bad plan +to go abroad for a month or two, plenty to be +done there, and he'd be sure to like it. After +all, of course we do run some risk here; a +month or two of absence wouldn't be a bad +notion." +</p> + +<p> +"'He who prigs what isn't his'n,'" quoted +Rouge. "Well, don't carry it too far, and don't +drive the boy away, whatever you do." +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, I'd sacrifice a good deal to keep +him," said Noir, "but he's thoroughly upset +to-night about it." +</p> + +<p> +Presently the old captain lighted his candle +and went up to bed, but Noir sat on long after +his pipe was finished, long after the fire had +sunk down in the grate to a handful of dying +embers; he was thinking, brooding painfully +over the comparative innocence of his boy +accomplice, and his own villainy. How despairing +and wild the fellow had looked, too, as he +left the room; he quite started when the door +opened, and Rouge, with his nightcap on, +appeared again upon the scene. +</p> + +<p> +"I say, Noir, I don't feel happy about that +boy. It was very strange of him to go off like +that with no supper." +</p> + +<p> +"Pooh!" said Noir, contemptuously, though +his father was speaking his own thoughts. +"He's ashamed of himself and vexed about that +caution." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; but to go off ill as he is, cold and +supperless. If he was a Catholic he might do +it as penance, but he's nothing, you know." +</p> + +<p> +It did not strike them that in very deep inward +trouble it is at times impossible to enjoy +or permit bodily ease; indeed, if the poor old +captain had been guilty of the most heinous +crime, he would probably have eaten his supper +after its committal, and found a solace in the +eating to his pangs of remorse. He could not +understand anything which went deeper than +this, and his good heart had been stirred with +pity as he lay down warmed and satisfied in +his comfortable feather-bed. +</p> + +<p> +Noir's thoughts went at once to darker +suspicious; he had seen something of that same +despairing look on Donovan's face when, on +that bright June afternoon, he had watched +him unknown on Westminster Bridge. He had +read his intentions then, was it possible that +misery and shame had driven him again to the +same longing? +</p> + +<p> +"We'll just give him a look on our way up," +he said, carelessly. And then he turned the +door-handle noiselessly, and with well-disguised +anxiety stole in; the room was very quiet, the +bed empty. Noir's heart stood still, and, with +an exclamation of dismay, he hurried to the +dark form which was stretched out on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +"Bring the candle quick," he said to his +father, and Rouge, trembling with fear, held the +light nearer, while Waif growled a little at the +unusual disturbance. +</p> + +<p> +Noir bent down for a moment close to the +half-hidden face, then he started up again with +an expression of relief, which came rather oddly +from his lips— +</p> + +<p> +"Thank God!" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, it did give me a turn," said the old +captain, stooping to pat the dog. +</p> + +<p> +"Hush!" said Noir, "you'll wake him." +</p> + +<p> +And then for a minute the shabby little room +witnessed a strange scene. Donovan stirred +uneasily, half turned round, but sank again into +profound sleep, and the two Frewins bent over +him, why, they could scarcely have said, but in +their relief it seemed almost a necessity. They +watched the face of the sleeper—flushed as if +even now the shame were making itself felt—the +sad face which seemed all the more despairing +because of its stillness, the fixedness of its +misery. And Noir's heart smote him, his +conscience cried out loudly, "You have brought +him to this, you have dragged this boy down +into shame and dishonesty." +</p> + +<p> +Rouge thought only of the discomforts of a +night on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +"Wake him up," he urged. "It's frightfully +cold, he oughtn't to be there." +</p> + +<p> +But Noir would not wake him, he knew that +it would be cruel to bring him back to his +anguish of remorse. Rouge could never understand +anything higher than bodily comfort, it +was what he lived for; his son, though a far +worse man, had nevertheless a capability of +entering into greater things, he had himself +sinned and suffered, and though it was years +since he had known real remorse, he had once +known it, and to a certain extent he understood +Donovan's feelings. +</p> + +<p> +"Better leave him," he said; but, with the +words upon his lips, he nevertheless turned to +the bed, and, dragging off a railway-rug which +covered it, threw it over the prostrate form on +the floor. Strangely indeed in life do the lights +and shades intermix, faint flickering of the +light divine stealing in, in spite of the vast +black shades of sin. +</p> + +<p> +The next day—the last of the year—was a +dreary one in the Frewins' rooms. Noir kept out +of the way, not caring to face his accomplice; +old Rouge, in great depression, dusted his +curiosities as usual, and put things tidy and +ship-shape; and Donovan sat coughing and +shivering over the fire, with an expression of +such despondency, often of such terrible suffering, +that the old captain scarcely dared to speak +to him. The sharpness of his remorse had for +the time died away, it was swallowed up in the +misery of his recollections, for this was the +anniversary of Dot's last day of life, and +remembrances strange, tender, pitiful, but always +full of pain, thronged up in his mind. Brooding +over it all, his brain excited with the events +of the past night, his body worn out with pain, +it was no wonder that the overtaxed nature at +last gave way. +</p> + +<p> +His mood seemed to change; Rouge, who +had not been able to extract a word from him +all day, was astounded as the evening drew on +to find him suddenly in the wildest spirits. +</p> + +<p> +"Come," he said, "we'll go to Olliver's; it's +time we had dinner. Come along, captain." +</p> + +<p> +And poor old Rouge found himself dragged +off, in spite of his remonstrances. +</p> + +<p> +"You'd better not go out, milord; you're +really not fit." +</p> + +<p> +"Not fit!" said Donovan, with a mad laugh, +cut short by a cough. "I'm fit for anything. +Come along, old fellow; we'll drown care, stifle +it, kill it, what you like!" +</p> + +<p> +Rouge, really frightened, panted along after +his crazy companion, with difficulty keeping +pace with his fevered steps; and then ensued +an evening of mad merriment. A year ago, +only a year ago, and Donovan had been watching +Dot's last agony; with the strong manly +tenderness of great love he had held the little +quivering hands in his, now in a crowded +billiard-room he grasped the cue instead, and +betted wildly, losing, winning, winning again +considerably, then with the Frewins, and Legge, +and two or three other companions returning +to Drury Lane and gambling the old year out +and the new year in. +</p> + +<p> +"I back the winner, I back the winner!" +screamed Sweepstakes from his cage. +</p> + +<p> +And above the sounds of dispute, and merriment, +and eager play, the clock of St. Mary's +Church struck twelve, and in the distance Big +Ben's deep notes echoed over the city, and, just +because an agony of remembrance rushed back +into Donovan's mind, he staked higher and +higher. The room rang with his wild laughter. +</p> + +<p> +Noir broke up the gathering much earlier +than usual, and with flushed cheeks and wild +glittering eyes Donovan staggered to his feet; +but he could hardly stand, his head seemed +weighted, his limbs powerless. +</p> + +<p> +"I've done for myself now," he said, catching +at Noir to keep himself up. Noir did not +answer; with his father's assistance he helped +him into the next room, and with some pangs +of conscience kept guard over him through the +night of mad excitement and misery which +followed. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning the bright new year broke +over the great city, there were <i>fêtes</i>, and +rejoicings, and merry family parties, but in the +lodging-house in Drury Lane all was silent, +even at night no gamblers' wild revelry broke +the stillness, for Donovan was prostrated by an +attack of congestion of the lungs in its acutest +form. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER IV. +<br><br> +STRUGGLING ON. +</h2> + +<p class="intro"> +Men are led by strange ways. One should have tolerance +for a man, hope of him; leave him to try yet what he +will do. + <i>On Heroes and Hero-worship.</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="intro"> +May we not again say, that in the huge mass of evil, +as it rolls and swells, there is ever some good working +imprisoned; working towards deliverance and triumph? + <i>French Revolution.</i> CARLYLE.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +He had known for a long time that he was +out of health, and at times the dread of +being ill had haunted him painfully, as it will +at times haunt those who are practically homeless. +For it is indeed very terrible to face the +thought of illness with no mother at hand to +nurse you, no sister to whom the duties of +tending will be a pleasure rather than a +tiresome duty, no house in which you have a right +to be ill, where you need not feel burdened +with the sense of the trouble you are causing. +To Donovan, with his utter want of belief in +human nature, or in the very existence of +anything above human nature, the sense of helplessness +came with double power; only, fortunately +for him, things were not really as he believed. +Close beside him, though unknown, the love of +the All-Father watched and shielded from evil +the son who, by such wretched wanderings, +was being led on. And the pity which springs +up very readily in most of our hearts, when we +are brought face to face with pain, brought +human help and comfort to his sick-bed. The +landlady, careworn and harassed with many +children and a good-for-nothing husband, yet +found time to do the few absolutely necessary +things in the sick-room; she could not help +being sorry for her apparently friendless lodger. +Once or twice she pained him terribly by +asking, +</p> + +<p> +"Haven't you no mother who could come +and see to you?" +</p> + +<p> +And Donovan would sign a negative, and, +when she had left him to himself, would feel +the loneliness and suffering with double keenness. +</p> + +<p> +Noir Frewin would come in two or three +times a day and ask how he was; the old +captain would hang about the room with anxiety +written on his kind old face, but he missed his +companion's vigilance and example, the drinking +mania seized him strongly, and he was +seldom quite sober. There was one other amateur +nurse, the poor little over-driven servant. +She used to shuffle into the room every now +and then, and with infinite care and clumsiness +would drag the pillow from under his head, +shake it up violently and turn it, or hold a +glass to his burning lips and spill half its +contents down his night-shirt, but he learnt to be +grateful even for such rough attentions, for +there is nothing like weakness and suffering +for teaching patience. The loneliness was so +terrible, too, that he would detain anyone who +came to him as long as possible. Old Rouge, +with his unsteady gait and half incoherent talk, +was better than no one, and even the little +slipshod servant, with her rough head and dirty +hands, was worth the exertion of talking, just +for the sake of having a human creature within +reach. +</p> + +<p> +"I allays liked you, sir," she said to him once. +"You ain't allays a-calling for your boots, like +Mr. Frewin, or in drink, like the captain, and +you never shouted out 'slavey' down the stairs +for me, as though I was one of the poor blacks. +I allays liked you, Mr. Donovan." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan was amused, and in spite of his +burning head and aching misery, threw out +some question or response to detain her. +</p> + +<p> +"And I've done things for you as I've not +done for no other lodger," the girl continued. +"I've blacked your boots a sight better than +any of the others, and though you did want +such a terrible lot of bath water hevery day, I +allays brought it up reg'lar. If the lodgers h'is +civil and kind-spoken, I do my best for 'em, but +most of rem—why, they treat us poor girls like +dogs, that they do. And talkin' of dogs, I've +done that un of yours many a good turn; times +and times I've stolen bits o' meat and things +for 'im." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! but you shouldn't do that," said Donovan, +quickly. "Don't do it again. It's wrong +to steal, you know." +</p> + +<p> +But then he paused. What was he saying? +How trivial were this poor ignorant girl's +dishonesties compared with his own! +</p> + +<p> +Bitter were the regrets which thronged up in +his mind as he lay wearily on his bed of pain. +He could not escape from his secret foes now; +he could not banish thought by violent bodily +exercise, or by wild excitement. All his +anguish of last year returned with terrible force, +all the agony of self-loathing weighed upon him +with cruel ceaselessness. This, combined with +the want of good nursing, aggravated his illness. +The doctor began to look grave, and one +day Anne, the little servant, fairly burst into +tears when she came up to tidy his room. +</p> + +<p> +"What's the matter?" asked Donovan, feebly. +"Have they been scolding you?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, it ain't that," said the girl, holding +her apron to her eyes. "But missus she says +you'll die, sure as a gun; she did say so, I +heared her, sir, not a minute since." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan did not speak for some time. He +lay thinking silently over the girl's words, +"You'll die, sure as a gun." He smiled a little, +thinking that few had been told of their danger +in a more open and undisguised way, but it +ought to have been good news to him, and for +a time he tried to think he was glad. And yet? +He did not go straight to the root of the matter, +and own that the "peace of nothingness" +looked less attractive when viewed nearly; he +said instead what a wretched life he had had, +how little enjoyment, how much suffering, and +now he was to die forlorn and unattended in a +miserable London lodging. Then came a great +longing to see his mother. +</p> + +<p> +He called the girl to him, made her find +writing materials, and, raising himself on his +elbow, wrote with great difficulty a few pencil +words. +</p> + +<p> +"I am very ill; my death will perhaps ease +more consciences than one. Will you not come +to me, mother?—it may be our last meeting." +</p> + +<p> +He was growing faint; the effort had been +very great, but, still exerting all his strength of +will, he controlled his weakness sufficiently to +scrawl the address on the envelope. Then he +sank back again utterly exhausted. +</p> + +<p> +"You'll have to see the clergyman if you get +worse," said Anne, sympathetically. "There's +one as come next door to an old chap as was +dying last summer, and they say he do make +the folks quake and sweat." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan was past smiling. +</p> + +<p> +After that he did not remember much; there +was only an ever-present consciousness of endless +pain, the raging, burning, aching misery of +fever. Till then the hours had dragged on with +the terrible slowness of which only those who +have been alone in illness can form any idea; +but now he lost all thought of time, and was +only dimly aware of the visitors who came to +him. Now and then he had a sort of vision, +of Rouge's round red face anxiously peering +down at him. Once he fancied himself +chained down in one of Doery's red-hot +furnaces, where Dives-like he had cried for water, +and then he had looked up, and Noir was beside +him with the cooling draught he had thirsted +for, and he had fallen back again refreshed, +wondering greatly that his request had been +granted. The Christian's God was, after all +then, merciful! Wild thoughts they were which +haunted him in his delirium; and yet Noir +Frewin, as he watched beside him, was struck +by the tone of his fevered utterances. He was +prepared for ravings against injustice, but, +instead, Donovan's most vehement words were +of self-reproach. At times he would take a +theological turn, and would argue for and +against every conceivable doctrine, and then +again he would fancy himself back among his +late companions, gambling or indulging in wild +revelry; but throughout there was never one +impure word, and Noir marvelled at it. A +strange wild life was revealed, with an +under-current of anxious questioning, one +predominant vice, but behind it much that was noble, +a familiarity with every kind of evil, but, in +spite of it, a strange retaining of purity. +</p> + +<p> +One name, too, was constantly on his lips—a +name which Noir had never heard him mention +before. He wondered much to whom it +referred, what gave rise to the agonised longing +for this one presence. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps in this was Donovan's keenest suffering. +He dreamt continually of Dot; she was +beside him, no longer ill and helpless, but happy, +and strong, and bright. As yet, remembrance +was such terrible pain to him—it was so entirely +his object not to remember the past—that the +vision which kept recurring to him was almost +more than he could bear, and the extraordinary +reality of it deluded him at times. It must be +real, she had come back to him, and he would +stretch out his arms to keep her; then, coming +to himself, would find that it was only a dream. +One night the dream was more vivid than ever. +He fancied himself on a wide-open down; he +was ill and faint, and the sun was beating down +upon him pitilessly. He closed his eyes to shut +out the intolerable brightness, and then +suddenly became aware of a shade between him +and the sun, and, looking up, saw Dot standing +beside him. Such a rapturous meeting it was! +Her face seemed changed, and yet the same, +and her bright eyes shone down upon him with +just the old loving light. He could feel her +fingers ruffling up his hair as she used to do in +the old times, and her voice, merry and child-like +as ever, seemed to give him new strength. +"It is my turn to nurse you now," she said. +And then, just as he was feeling the full bliss +of her presence, a thick white mist rose from +the ground and rolled between them. He +stretched out his hands, tried to struggle up, +helplessly beating against the cold white wall. +Dot was there just beyond. He must reach +her! this sudden meeting, only to part, was too +cruel! But the more he dashed himself against +the impenetrable barrier, the harder it became, +and maddened by hearing her voice in the +distance, he grew more and more reckless, till at +last his own cry of despair woke him. Trembling, +exhausted, panting for breath, he stared +round the little room. The scene was changed. +Fight as he would, there was no chance of his +seeing Dot again; even the white barrier was +gone. The gas was turned low, and close +beside it sat Noir, nodding over his newspaper. +The blank of realisation was so terrible that he +felt he <i>must</i> call on some one or something +outside himself, and his companion was roused by +a call so wild, so despairing, that he started up +at once and hurried to the bedside. +</p> + +<p> +"What is it?" he questioned, anxiously; but +Donovan could not answer; his breath would +only come in gasps, his whole frame was +convulsed. By the strange freemasonry of +suffering, Noir Frewin understood him; he did not +say a word, but just took the two burning +hands in his, and Donovan, with a sense of +relief, tightened his hold till the grip was +absolutely painful. Anything human would have +served to support him; he clung to the hands +of this hardened cheat with helpless gratitude. +</p> + +<p> +And Noir, as he looked down at the struggling +agony, understood it all far better than +many would have done. A well-regulated mind +accustomed to view things quietly, or a Christian +who has never known what it is to be anything +else, would probably not have known so +exactly what to do; they would have offered +words to a state utterly beyond the comprehension +of speech, or would have advised self-control +when the very fact of the convulsed +frame and sealed lips showed that no control +was needed. But Noir had been through just the +same fierce conflicts in his cell at Dartmoor; he +knew that no words would avail, no thought +comfort, that what nature cried out for was a +presence stronger than self—something or some +one who would not preach, but would understand. +He gave, poor fellow, all he could give—himself; +and after a time Donovan's convulsed +limbs relaxed, the hands loosened their hold, +the face settled into its usual stern sad expression. +</p> + +<p> +"Thanks, old fellow," he said, faintly. +</p> + +<p> +Noir, with an odd choking in his throat, +turned away and made ready some gruel which +had been heating. By the time he had brought +it, Donovan had recovered a little more, and +there was a sort of smile on his worn face. +</p> + +<p> +"I can't get over you turning nurse, Noir," +he said, in rather trembling tones; "you've +been—awfully good to me." +</p> + +<p> +"Only make haste and get well," said Noir, +roughly, but kindly. +</p> + +<p> +"Am I not doing my best by swallowing this +abomination?" said Donovan, trying to form +his lips into a smile, but failing piteously. +</p> + +<p> +"You'd better be quiet, or you won't get off +to sleep again," said Noir, peremptorily, the +fact being that he could not stand the effort at +cheerfulness which his patient was making, for +there are few things more painful than to see +a thin veil of assumed cheerfulness drawn over +great suffering. But the effort was a brave +one, he could not help knowing it, and as he +returned to his place beneath the gas, instead +of taking up his newspaper, he mused over the +hidden trouble which had been half revealed to +him, from time to time casting a glance towards +the bed. Nothing, however, was to be seen +there except a mass of rough brown hair; +Donovan had turned his face away from the +light, and Noir only knew that he was not +asleep by the absolute stillness of his form, and +by the long-drawn but half-restrained sighs +which reached him every few minutes. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning the old captain, with his +feather-brush, was as usual dusting his shells +and corals, when he was interrupted by the +little maid-of-all-work. +</p> + +<p> +"If you please, sir," she said, with unusual +animation, "'ere's a lady as will 'ave it that +Mr. Farrant lives 'ere, and I can't get 'er away +no'ow." +</p> + +<p> +Rouge, removing his smoking-cap, hurried +forward, and found himself face to face with an +elderly woman with a rather thin severe face. +</p> + +<p> +"There must be some mistake, madam," he +said, in his pleasant voice. "No one of the +name of Farrant lives here. We are the only +lodgers, except one poor fellow named Donovan, +who is very ill." +</p> + +<p> +"There!" exclaimed Mrs. Doery, with relief. +"Now why didn't you tell me that before, +though I was certain he must be here +somewhere, he'd never make a fault in the address. +Take me to him at once, please, sir—I've come +to nurse him." +</p> + +<p> +"Bless me!" exclaimed the old captain, +"now that's really a wonderful piece of luck, +for he's in need of better nursing than we can +give him. You are a relation of his?" +</p> + +<p> +"Relation, indeed!" said Mrs. Doery, with +virtuous indignation—"relation, sir! A pretty +pass he must have come to if you take me for +a relation. I am the housekeeper." +</p> + +<p> +"Your pardon, madam," said the captain. +"May I not offer you some refreshment after +your journey," and he put his hand on the +inevitable black bottle which was always within +convenient reach. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll thank you, sir, to take me to Mr. Donovan," +said Doery, severely, "and not go offering +a respectable party spirits at this time of day." +</p> + +<p> +Rouge, feeling snubbed, hastily led the way +to the sick-room, muttering under his breath, +"A very dragon!" But nevertheless he rather +enjoyed the new arrival, and there was a ring +of amusement in his hearty voice as he went up +to the disordered uncomfortable-looking bed +where Donovan lay. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, milord, I've brought you a new nurse." +</p> + +<p> +If anyone had told Donovan in his childhood +that he would ever welcome the sight of his +grim tyrant he would not have believed it, but +nevertheless there was an unspeakable comfort +and relief in the advent of poor old Doery. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! Mr. Donovan, what have they been a-doin' +to you?" she exclaimed, horror-struck at +his looks, for he was evidently quite +clear-headed, but utterly weak and helpless, and with +a face so thin and worn that she hardly recognized it. +</p> + +<p> +"Did my mother send you?" he asked, as +soon as the captain had left the room. +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir, master sent me, with orders to say +nothing about it to mistress. It was the only way +he'd let me come, Mr. Donovan, so you mustn't +mind. Mistress is to be told I'm gone to nurse +my sister. I promised I wouldn't say a word +to her, otherwise master wouldn't have told me +where you was." +</p> + +<p> +"He opened the letter, then?" asked Donovan. +</p> + +<p> +"He had your letter, sir. I made no doubt +it was sent to him, for the mistress hadn't seen it." +</p> + +<p> +Evidently, then, it would be quite useless to +attempt writing to his mother; after the lapse +of all these months of silence, Ellis still kept +guard over her correspondence. A sort of dim +idea which had crossed his mind of appealing +to his mother for money to start him in some +honest calling, died away. He must continue +to support himself by his precarious winnings, +only—and here all his strength of will asserted +itself—he would never be a party to Noir's +deceptions again. It was not a very cheering +prospect, he saw that it must involve an entire +break with the Frewins, and they had been so +good to him that he shrank very much from the +thought. After all, as he often said to himself, +his death would solve many difficulties. +</p> + +<p> +But he was not to die—that was evident. +Thanks to Mrs. Doery's good nursing he began +to recover steadily, and, as his strength +returned, a certain enjoyment of life returned to him +too, at times. He began to wish very much to +be out and about again, even though so many +difficulties would have then to be faced. +</p> + +<p> +His intercourse with old Mrs. Doery was a +good deal hampered by various causes. He +never mentioned Dot's name, he never mentioned +his present way of life, so that their range of +conversation was rather limited. He asked a +thousand questions, indeed, about his mother, +and the whole Manor household, but except +with regard to this subject he was very silent +and utterly uncommunicative. From day to +day he would lie with a sort of rigid patience, +abstractedly watching Doery as she sat mending +his linen, or with his eyes fixed on the hateful +little oil-painting of the "Shipwreck," which +stared down at him from the dingy green wall +paper with black spots. It used to remind +him a good deal of his own life, that +forlorn-looking vessel with broken mast and battered +hull. +</p> + +<p> +One night when he was almost recovered he +was roused from his first sleep by noisy +merriment in the adjoining room, and found poor +Mrs. Doery fairly frightened out of her wits. +</p> + +<p> +"Such a calling and a shouting and a quarrelling +as she'd never heard in her life!" +</p> + +<p> +"They are only enjoying themselves," said +Donovan, with weary sarcasm. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Mr. Donovan, it's more like animals +than like men, that I will say," replied Doery, +with her customary shrewd severity. +</p> + +<p> +"May be," said Donovan, turning from side +to side with the restless discomfort of one +disturbed. +</p> + +<p> +"And nobody can't deny that it's a dreadful +place that you're in," continued the housekeeper. +"Such a shocking goings on in them courts out +at the back, and then all this noise in the very +next room when honest folks ought to be a-bed +and asleep. It's a dreadful place, I call it." +</p> + +<p> +"London isn't made up of Connaught +Squares," said Donovan, bitterly; and then he +drew the bed-clothes over his face, and would +not say another word. +</p> + +<p> +The next day was Sunday, and by dint of +many assurances of his perfect recovery, +Mrs. Doery was at length persuaded to leave him for +a little while and go to church, Donovan having +over-ruled her dread of losing her way by +assuring her that the old captain went every now +and then to salve his conscience, and would be +delighted to escort her. When she had left +him he lay for a few minutes listening to the +church bells, but his thoughts were very +troublesome that day, and just to stifle them he +reached out his hand and took Mrs. Doery's +Bible from the table. It was nearly four years +since he had opened one, and then it had only +been under compulsion at school, and though he +had read many books written against it, he had +never had the slightest inclination to study the +book itself. Beyond a few chapters which he +had been made to learn in his childhood as a +punishment, he remembered little but the sort +of general outline of the history, and a few of +the more striking parables. +</p> + +<p> +He took it up now rather curiously, opened +at St. Matthew's Gospel, and, skipping the +Table of Genealogy, began to read in a careless, +cursory way. By-and-by, however, in spite +of himself, he grew interested. From the few +isolated chapters which he had heard occasionally +in church and during his school life, he had +never gained any idea of the character of Christ. +Now reading straight on, with a great craving +after some fresh interest, he was naturally very +much struck. A life of poverty, and suffering, +and self-denial, a career of apparent failure, +surroundings low and incapable of understanding, +a trial of glaring injustice, and an unmerited +death of the deepest pain! It was a +story which could not fail to touch him; a +character which filled him with great admiration. +There were two things which especially appealed +to his sympathy—the injustice suffered, +and the strong endurance manifested. He put +down the book reluctantly when he was too +tired to hold it any longer, not even thinking +of any possible change in his fixed beliefs, but +simply very much struck by a noble life, which, +it seemed probable, had been lived thousands of +years ago—with something of the same sort of +interest which he had felt for one or two of the +old Romans, and for a few of Shakspere's +characters. Modern Christianity—or the +so-called Christianity which had been brought +under his notice—offered no attractions to him. +The whole system seemed to him hollow and +false, a great profession and a niggardly +performance, a mixture of selfishness, hypocrisy, +and superstition. But the life of Christ was +grand! Such an unexampled career of noble +self-devotion filled him with wonder and +reverence. However much the misguided followers +had fallen off, there could be no doubt that the +mind of Christ had been—he naturally used +the past tense—one of dazzling purity and +beauty. +</p> + +<p> +In the enforced stillness of convalescence the +story haunted him strangely, and undoubtedly +he was influenced by it—his admiration of a +noble mind ennobled him. At present that +was all; but it was much. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as he was about again, he took an +early opportunity of telling Noir the decision +which he had made before his illness. Noir, +who had already shrewdly surmised that he +should lose his young accomplice, made no +attempt to turn him from his purpose. +</p> + +<p> +"Turned good, I suppose, as most fellows do +when they have been within an ace of dying," +he remarked, sneeringly. +</p> + +<p> +"Glad to hear you think so," said Donovan, +with coolness. "I own you've a proverb to fall +back on. 'The Devil he fell sick; the Devil a +monk would be.' However, I've no monkish +tendencies, only I don't mean to be your decoy +any longer." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Noir, good-humouredly, "I myself +shan't be sorry to leave the old trade for a +bit. We've been talking of going abroad. +Come with us. It would set you up in no +time. What do you say to Monaco? A try at +the red and black?" +</p> + +<p> +"Anything for a change," said Donovan; but +there was relief in his tone, for the break with +the Frewins, which he had dreaded a good deal, +would be no longer necessary. "Honest" +gambling of course he had not renounced, in +fact by means of it he must live, and this +proposal to go to Monaco exactly fell in with his +present frame of mind. His spirits began to +rise. +</p> + +<p> +The old captain coming into the room was +surprised at the change in his look and voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, captain!" he exclaimed. "Has Noir +told you? It's all settled, we leave this hole +next week, and go to try our luck at Monte +Carlo." +</p> + +<p> +"So I hear," said Rouge. "It'll be first rate +for you, for myself I like Old England best. +None of your froggy Frenchmen for me. I'm +going out, milord, d'you want +anything? papers? books?" +</p> + +<p> +A change came over Donovan's face. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! yes, that reminds me. Here!"—he +threw down eighteen pence on the table, +scrawled something on a piece of paper and +handed it to Rouge,—"Just get me that if +you're passing a book-shop." +</p> + +<p> +The captain looked at the paper, lifted his +eyebrows, but did not venture any comment. +On it was written, "Renan's 'Life of Jesus.'" +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER V. +<br><br> +MONACO. +</h2> + +<p class="intro"> + I heard a thousand blended notes<br> + While in a grove I sat reclined,<br> + In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts<br> + Bring sad ones to the mind.<br> +</p> + +<p class="intro"> + To her fair works did Nature link<br> + The human soul that through me ran;<br> + And much it grieved my heart to think<br> + What man had made of man.<br> + WORDSWORTH.<br> +</p> + +<p class="intro"> + Spots of blackness in creation to make its colours felt.<br> + <i>Modern Painters.</i><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"Now this is first rate," said the old +captain, as he stepped off the pier at +Folkestone on to the steamer. "Ah, Donovan, +my lad, if we were going for a good cruise it +would do you all the good in the world, better +than a dozen Monacos, eh? Not so profitable, +you say? Well, perhaps not, but I wish I was +captain of the <i>Metora</i> again, a prime little +steamer she was, you wouldn't think much of +such a tub as this if you'd been aboard the +<i>Metora</i>." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan, with the delicious sense of returning +strength, rolled himself up in his railway-rug, +and with his elbow resting on the deck railing +looked out seawards. The captain was in +great spirits, the breath of sea air seemed to +awake his better self, and he was besides very +happy in having his favourite companion with +him again. +</p> + +<p> +"Now that you're about again, milord, I +shall be a different man," he said, cheerily; "I've +been dreadfully down in the mouth since you +were ill, I missed you frightfully; and there +was Noir as grim as death, and even +Sweepstakes as cross as could be. You wouldn't +believe what a bother we had with that bird, +milord; just after you were laid up he caught, +somehow or other, one of his old couplets which +always enrages Noir. I suppose I'd said it, and +he'd remembered it, for day and night that +creature said nothing but, +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + "He who prigs what isn't his'n;"<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +you know the old rhyme!" +</p> + +<p> +"There's something uncanny about +Sweepstakes," said Donovan, laughing, "he has a +good deal of the wizard about him. It's to be +hoped he'll be quiet on the journey, or Noir will +threaten to wring his neck." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, he doesn't approve of our menagerie," +said Rouge, adjusting the covering of the +parrot's cage, "though I will say that the dog +is a marvel of obedience." +</p> + +<p> +"I back the winner!" screamed Sweepstakes, +as the bell sounded and the steamer began to +move. "Now be gentle, be gentle." +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo! the creature is beginning to talk," +said Donovan, "you'll have a crowd round +him." +</p> + +<p> +And true enough before long they found +themselves the centre of an amused group, +to whom the parrot held forth in his choicest +language. But presently Noir came up, and +directly the bird caught sight of him he put +his head on one side and began with his most +sanctimonious manner to say, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "He who prigs what isn't his'n<br> + When he's cotched shall go to pris'n."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"You must keep the parrot quiet," said Noir, +crossly, "he's disturbing the whole deck." +</p> + +<p> +The passengers at once disclaimed this, and +expressed their admiration of the bird's +cleverness, but Noir was not to be baffled, he drew +the black covering over the cage, and Donovan +saw by the frown on his brow that he was +vexed by this particular sentence of the +malicious parrot. He sat down on the other +side of the cage, ready to check any further +talking, but he could not prevent the mild +refrain which Sweepstakes invariably resorted +to when he was snubbed, and all through the +crossing he gently murmured to himself, +"When he's cotched—cotch—cotch—cotched!" +</p> + +<p> +It was a grey day at the end of February, +and the English shore was enveloped in mist, +but there was, nevertheless, a strong breeze +blowing. "East-nor'-east," Rouge declared it +to be, "and a heavy swell which would prove +fatal to the land-lubbers." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan, though making no pretensions as +to his sailing powers, enjoyed the change and +novelty most thoroughly, and, indeed, after +seven or eight weeks of the unwholesome atmosphere +of Drury Lane, the fresh sea-breeze was +almost intoxicating. In spite of adverse +circumstances and a naturally melancholy +temperament, the young life within him sprang up +to greet the novelty of all around, his eyes +brightened, his taciturnity disappeared, and he +and the old captain sat talking together as +happily as two school-boys. +</p> + +<p> +Then came the landing at the sunny little +French town, with the chatter of bad English +and broken French, the hurry and bustle of the +passengers, Rouge's anxiety over his precious +parrot, and Donovan's difficulty in steering him +safely past the door of the <i>buffet</i>, with all its +temptations. After a few minutes' delay, they +were off once more, fairly started now on their +route to the south, and Donovan, in the first +exuberance of his new strength, really thought +he had found something to satisfy his restlessness, +and to fill the emptiness of his life. Fair +France, with her sunny plains and genial +atmosphere, looked very tempting, Monaco offered +plenty of excitement—why should he not be +happy now? +</p> + +<p> +They were to travel straight on to Nice, a +rash project for a semi-invalid, but naturally +the Frewins consulted their own wishes, and +Donovan, though tired enough when they +reached Paris, preferred going on with them to +staying for the night alone, for he was still not +at all fit to be left quite to himself; old +Mrs. Doery had only resigned her post a few days +before, and he shrank from entire self-dependence. +So the night journey was undertaken, +and he sat back in his corner watching his +sleeping companions, sometimes dozing himself +for a few minutes, but oftener wide awake, and +fully conscious of his weary misery, bearing it +with a sort of philosophic endurance, and +thinking a good deal of the life he had left behind +him, of his parting conversation with Mrs. Doery, +of the interview which by this time she +had probably had with his step-father, of the +luck which he had had at the club a few nights +ago, which had enabled him to pay his doctor's +bill and start comfortably on his foreign trip, +and of sundry passages which had impressed +him in Renan's book. An odd medley, truly, in +an utterly unregulated but well-disposed +mind—well-disposed, that is, as far as it was capable +of seeing the light. +</p> + +<p> +At last the long night wore away; as they +passed Lyons, with its gleaming lights and its +broad river; the first faint grey of dawn was +quivering on the horizon, and gradually the +pale morning twilight began to steal into the +railway carriage, falling with a most ghastly +effect on the faces of the sleepers—Noir, with +his hard, grim features, Rouge serenely +comfortable and animal-like, a priest with a heavy +face, which nevertheless looked quite spiritual +compared with the old captain's, and four average +Frenchmen in every variety of night <i>déshabillé</i> +and posture. Donovan glanced at them curiously, +then, with that shivering misery which +invariably accompanies the dawn, he once more +looked out over the grey landscape. His cough +began to be troublesome, nor did his discomfort +end till the sun had risen; in the early +morning, when they stopped for a minute at +Orange, he dashed out of the carriage, held +face and hands under the pump on the +platform, and, somewhat refreshed by the cold +water, got in again, to endure as well as he +could the long day of travelling. +</p> + +<p> +A night's rest at Nice set him up again, +however, and he was as eager as either of his +companions to go on to Monaco the next morning. +The day, too, was so gloriously bright, and the +air so exhilarating, that he fancied himself +stronger than he really was. Nor was the +exquisite scenery altogether wasted on him; it is +to be doubted whether it has any effect on the +<i>habitués</i> of Monte Carlo who daily pass through +it, but Donovan was a stranger, not yet seized +with the gaming mania, which seems to destroy +all the nobler faculties. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving Nice behind them, with its green hills +and clustering white villas, they sped on +through a very paradise of beauty. To the +right lay the Mediterranean, with its wonderfully +deep blue, broken here and there by the +tiniest foam-wreathed breakers, gleaming whiter +than snow; to the left rose the Maritime Alps +with their softly mantling olive groves, while +in the distance every now and then a snowy +peak stood out clearly against the blue sky. +</p> + +<p> +The three Englishmen certainly took their +own fashion of enjoying it all, there was no +studying of Murray or Baedeker, not a single +exclamation of wonder or admiration. Rouge +looked sleepily at the sea, and thought of his +voyages in the <i>Metora</i>; Noir, who for the last day +or two had been engrossed with his "system," +and had done nothing but cover sheets of +paper with dots, barely looked up from his +employment; Donovan looked at all the beauty +silently, with no lack of admiration, but with a +certain sadness, his one definite thought being +how much Dot would have enjoyed it. In a +very short time they reached their destination; +old Monaco on its rocky promontory, new Monaco, +with its gay white houses and red-tiled +roofs, Monte Carlo, with its gorgeous +casino—all lay as it were in a nutshell. Strange little +Principality! one of the most ancient in Europe, +originally a sort of garden of Eden, but now +a perfect hot-bed of vice! Noir, who knew +the place well, had his own reasons for +avoiding the fashionable Condamine. He took +his companions to an out-of-the-way hotel in +old Monaco, where at the expense of a stiff +climb they would be free from some of the +objections of the more frequented quarter. +</p> + +<p> +Before long they had set off for an afternoon +at Monte Carlo, all three in good spirits; Noir +with implicit faith in the system of play which +he was about to try; Donovan exulting in the +sense of novelty and excitement; Rouge ready +to be amused by anything, and eager to try his +luck so far as the restricted allowance which +his son made him would permit. Driving up +the long hill they were set down at last at the +entrance to the casino. This, then, was the +goal they had been making for, this the place +where fortunes were won—or lost, this the +refuge for all who craved excitement, for all +who would fain banish thought. It felt half +dream-like to Donovan, a palace of the genii, +transported straight from one of the "Arabian +Nights." Passing into the beautiful vestibule, +with its great marble columns, gorgeously +decorated roof and walls, and handsome mosaic +floor, the impression grew upon him, but was +speedily dashed into the world of cold realities +by a word from Noir. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, we won't waste time. You'll have +to give your name at the <i>bureau</i>, and get your +ticket. Of course, by-the-way, you're +twenty-one? Else they won't admit you." +</p> + +<p> +"All right," replied Donovan. "I was of age +last spring," and therewith came memories +which brought a look of hard resentment to his +face. +</p> + +<p> +Having given the name which he used, he +picked up his pink admission-card, and followed +his companions through the double swing-doors +into the <i>Salle de Jeu</i>. After all, even in +this enchanted palace, thoughts would intrude +themselves. Would this journey to Monte Carlo +prove less satisfactory than he had expected? +</p> + +<p> +It is a strange sight that <i>Salle de Jeu</i>. Its +richly decorated walls, its heavy square pillars, +coloured and begilt in the Alhambra style, form +the setting to a dark picture. How many +wretched faces, pale with despair, are reflected +each day in those mirrors! how many victims +pace restlessly up and down the slippery +parquet floor, never satisfied with gain, half crazed +with loss; and yet with what persistency all +throng round the tables, a curiously mixed +multitude, when one pauses to study them—people +of all ranks and ages: florid-looking Germans, +sharp-faced Frenchmen, dark, vindictive Italians, +handsome Russians, hard-featured Englishmen; +women, too, in almost as large a proportion as +men, and staking with quite as much <i>sang-froid</i>. +Round every table sit the favoured few who +have secured chairs, behind these stand the +eager crowd absorbed in watching the whirling +roulette-wheel, or the dealing of the cards, and +on the outskirts of all linger the mere lookers-on; +Americans "doing Europe," and including +Monte Carlo in their list of things to be seen, +pale-faced invalids from Mentone, English +tourists of every description, who come to see this +sight which happily is not to be met with in +many places. A questionable proceeding though +in some ways is this looking on, and yet to +those who really study the gamblers the sight +can hardly fail to teach a very grave lesson. +Only, to anyone who expects pleasure in the +mere sight, the disappointment would be great. +Monte Carlo merely heard of is one thing, +Monte Carlo seen is a revelation of sin, of +infatuation, of all that is most sad and pitiable; a +black spot in creation which does indeed make +the on-looker thankful for all existing purity +and goodness, but which, at the same time, +cannot fail to sober and sadden. +</p> + +<p> +The three companions quickly separated, +Rouge remaining at one of the roulette-tables +in the outer room, Noir steadily settling himself +at the first trente-et-quarante table, and in +course of time securing a chair, Donovan +wandering restlessly from place to place. He had +no faith in any system, though Noir had tried +hard to convert him to his, but, although he +was usually as successful by luck in games of +chance as he was by cleverness in games of skill, +his customary good fortune seemed now to +have deserted him. Before long he had not +only lost a great deal more than was at all +convenient, but had conceived a strong dislike +to the whole thing. Dispirited by his unbroken +losses, he felt at once that there was nothing +here to satisfy him, nothing to call out his +faculties; for he was more than a mere gambler, +he was a first-rate card-player, and to him half +the pleasure of gaming lay in the sense of +power, the exultation in his own skill. In +spite of all the talk about "systems," he saw +that the ruling goddess at Monte Carlo was +blind chance; she had not dealt kindly with +him, he would waste no more time or money in +her gorgeous shrine. +</p> + +<p> +But now that all excitement was over he +began to feel unbearably weary, he threw +himself down on the crimson velvet ottoman in the +middle of the gaming-room, idly scanning the +passers-by, men old and young; croupiers just +released from their wearisome duties, and +leaving the room with tired faces from which all +other expression had died; the servants of the +casino in their blue and red livery; the +ever-shifting throng of gamblers; the extravagantly-dressed +women. Realising at length that his +peace was in danger of molestation, he rose to +go, and found his way across the vestibule to +the beautiful music-hall, where the finest +orchestra in Europe is made a bait to draw +great crowds to the casino. Wearily he leant +back in one of the luxurious arm-chairs and +listened to the closing strains of a grand +symphony. The concert was nearly over; he was +so weary that he almost fell asleep, but in, the +last piece suddenly came to himself with a +thrill of pain. With exquisite expression, with +unrivalled delicacy of light and shade, the +orchestra was playing a selection from "Don +Giovanni," and now through the great hall there +rang Dot's favourite air "Vedrai Carino." +</p> + +<p> +It did him good in spite of the pain. When +the audience dispersed, and he strolled out into +the gardens, a child's pure gentle face haunted +him; there among the palms, and aloes, and +flowering cactus two visions of the past were +with him, Dot's radiant beauty, and the quiet +maidenly grace of a stranger whom he had +involuntarily taken as his standard of what a +woman should be. From what evil these two +guardian angels shielded him who can say? +</p> + +<p> +Before long he wisely went in search of the +old captain, whom he found in low spirits, +having lost every five-franc piece in his possession. +</p> + +<p> +"We've both had enough of this," said Donovan, +not sorry to have the old man's arm to +lean on. "I'm about cleared out too, and, +what's worse, I feel awfully seedy." +</p> + +<p> +"Humph!" ejaculated the captain. "In for +a second go of inflammation, I'll be bound." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Rouge, if I am," said Donovan, slowly, +"you'll just have to bolt and bar the door and +nurse me yourself. Do you understand?" +</p> + +<p> +The captain nodded assent, and little more +was said as they made their way back to the hotel. +</p> + +<p> +The surmise proved perfectly true, however, +and that night Donovan was again tossing to +and fro in weary misery, haunted by whirling +roulette wheels and stony-faced croupiers, raving +about the endless losses and the tantalizing +gains which always eluded his grasp. The +relapse was the natural consequence of all the +fatigue he had gone through, and had it not +been for the old captain's devoted though +rough nursing, and for the care of an +exceedingly clever French doctor, he would most +likely have sunk under it. +</p> + +<p> +However, he struggled through, and woke +one morning, after a long sleep, to realise for the +first time his position. There he was lying as +weak as any baby, surrounded by mosquito net +curtains, in an odd-looking foreign room; there +was poor Waif lying at the foot of the bed, +keeping anxious guard over him; there was +Rouge sitting by the open window smoking. +Where was he? What was this new place? +Not Drury Lane, for the dingy green paper was +changed to a gorgeous blue one, and the ceiling +was decorated, or defaced, with bluewash studded +with glaring white stars, in the middle of +which grew by some strange anomaly a great +clump of red and yellow roses. Donovan, +though not artistic, was strangely irritated by +looking at the horrid daub. He called the old +captain to him. +</p> + +<p> +"So I've been ill again," he said, interrogatively. +</p> + +<p> +"Very," replied Rouge. "In fact, milord, +we as good as gave you up at one time, you +wouldn't believe what an anxious time I've had +of it, with Noir all day long up at that casino, +and no one here who could speak a word of English." +</p> + +<p> +"You have been nursing me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, of course, what else could I do?" said +Rouge. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, captain," said Donovan, adding +resolutely, after a minute's pause, "I shall get +well now." +</p> + +<p> +He was as good as his word, and from that +day recovered rapidly; not that he cared much +to get well, but he was anxious to free himself +from the state of dependence he was now in, for +dependence was uncongenial to his nature, and +to submit to rough and ready attendance is +never pleasant. Before many days had passed +he was up and dressed, just able to drag +himself across the room, and to relieve the monotony +of the long hours by such amusement as he +could find at either of the windows. One of +these faced the Place du Palais. There just +opposite to him he could see the Prince's Palace, +could count the slow minutes by the clock in +the tower, speculate when the cannon and the +great pile of cannon-balls would be used, study +the two sentries who, in their red and blue +uniforms, kept guard over the entrance gate, +and watch the few passers-by. From the other +window a much wider view was obtained. +Here he could see the whole of the beautiful +bay, and the exquisite loveliness of the place +made him long to quit his room. +</p> + +<p> +And so the days dragged on, and little by +little he regained his strength, would crawl out +to the almost deserted Promenade St. Barbe, +and sit on one of the green benches under the +plane-trees, or, passing through the curious old +archway which leads by a footpath from old to +new Monaco, he would stretch himself out on +the low stone wall, and rest among a sort of +jungle of flowering cactus and pink geranium, +while before him stretched a glorious panorama; +the beautiful blue of the Mediterranean, Monaco +with its gay-looking houses, the mountains +skirting the water here clothed with olive +groves, there craggy, bare, and brown, or +glistening pearly grey in the sunlight. Then just +facing him, half way up the mountain side, the +pretty little town of Roccabruna, till—the +slope of the mountain hiding Mentone and its +bay—the chain gradually lessened, and ended +in the long low promontory of Bordighera. +Only one conspicuous object stood out always +as a blot on the fair landscape—the casino, +with its gilded roof and its two minarets. +</p> + +<p> +Donovan had wisely resolved to keep clear of +modern Monaco, but he began rather to weary +of the narrow bounds of the old town. True +he had, as usual, made friends among the +children; his favourite resting-place on the wall +happened to be on the way to the school, and +troops of little brown-eyed, bare-headed girls +and boys passed him every day, and soon learnt +to crowd round the strange English gentleman +and his wonderful dog, and to bring him +presents of flowers or unripe nespoli. But, as +he grew stronger, he began to hate the feeling +of imprisonment, until, happening one morning +to notice a little boat on the sea with its white +lateen sail, he conceived the happy idea of +taking a daily cruise. The old captain was +always ready to accompany him, and the hours +which they spent in the <i>Ste. Dévote</i>, as their boat +was named, did each of them untold good. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile each evening Noir, returning +about eleven o'clock, when the casino closed, +would bring in one or two acquaintances who, +not satisfied with the day's gambling, were +anxious for play. In this manner Donovan +made an easy living. +</p> + +<p> +Noir tried in vain to induce him to go once +more to Monte Carlo; he himself had been +remarkably lucky, and he rarely let a day pass +without remonstrating with Donovan on what +he alternately called his "cowardice," his +"laziness," and his "puritanical fanaticism." +</p> + +<p> +This last accusation was so novel that it +called forth one of Donovan's rare laughs. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, this is quite a new line," he said, +when Noir's tirade was ended. "You are the +first person in the world who ever gave me +such an honourable name. Zealous folks have +addressed me as 'infidel dog,' and 'blind +atheist,' and 'miserable agnostic,' but 'fanatic +Puritan' is a title to which I never dreamt of +aspiring! In the strength of it you must allow +me to gang my ain gait!" +</p> + +<p> +"Please yourself," said Noir, crossly. "Do +you know Berrogain's last name for you—for +the young man who is too virtuous to be +ensnared? You are the young Bayard, the——" +</p> + +<p> +"He's welcome to call me what he pleases," +interrupted Donovan, sharply. "All I know or +care for is that he loses hundreds of francs to me +every evening we play. It's not the least good +talking. You'll never see me in that <i>Salle de +Jeu</i> again. You with your system, and Berrogain +with his luck, may do very well. Fortune +wasn't so kind to me, and I'd rather depend on +my own brains." +</p> + +<p> +Sweepstakes ended the discussion by reiterated +injunctions to "be gentle," and the words, +coming in after a hot dispute, amused both +speakers, and really did put a stop to the quarrel. +</p> + +<p> +Noir finished his lunch, and set off for his +afternoon at Monte Carlo, leaving his father +and Donovan to such amusement as they +could find in a long sail in the <i>Ste. Dévote</i>. +Strangely enough, however, it so happened +that the infallible "system" failed dismally on +that very afternoon. Noir was singularly +unfortunate, lost almost all that he had previously +won, and returned to the hotel at night crestfallen +and dispirited. He had burnt his fingers, +and for the time had lost all desire to risk a +fresh effort. +</p> + +<p> +Rather sulkily he consented the next morning +to go for a walk with Donovan, and, <i>déjeuner</i> +over, the two set out towards the quaint little +town of Roccabruna. As they passed through +old Monaco and down the sunny road, a furious +rattling attracted their notice. All the small +boys of the place had armed themselves with +impromptu policemen's rattles made of odd bits +of wood and iron, and were swinging them +round with frightful energy. +</p> + +<p> +"What is all this infernal row about?" +grumbled Noir. +</p> + +<p> +Donovan, rather amused by the comical effect +of the energetic <i>gamins</i> and their clumsy rattles, +accosted a brown-eyed boy, and asked him the +meaning of it all. +</p> + +<p> +"It is the Holy Thursday, monsieur," was +the answer. "We crush the bones of the wicked +Judas, the betrayer. This evening, in the +church, it will be very beautiful. The priests +will wash our feet, the lights will be extinguished, +and all the people will crush the bones of +Judas. A great noise it will be, monsieur. It +will resemble the thunder!" +</p> + +<p> +Donovan rejoined Noir with a bitter smile on +his face. This then was Christianity! They +walked on in perfect silence. +</p> + +<p> +The day was gloriously fine and bright, the +April air soft and balmy, the atmosphere in +that state of almost intoxicating clearness only +to be met with in the South. Certainly the +two men were a strange contrast to their +surroundings; the elder grim, clouded, dissatisfied, +the younger worn with suffering, weary with +the weariness of a life-long unrest, and bearing +on his handsome features that peculiar expression +of constant inward struggle which often +gives pathos to the hardest face. +</p> + +<p> +Around them were the thick olive groves, +above the clear deep blue of the cloudless sky. +It was a paradise of peace and loveliness that +these two were treading together. How far it +influenced them it would be hard to say, but +probably both owed more to it than they knew. +Roccabruna, with its cavernous houses and +quaint archways, did not greatly interest them. +They had come for exercise rather than for +lionising and, contented with a very brief +survey of the little antique place, they struck off +to the left, along a somewhat rough and rugged +mule-path, and walked on silently in the +direction of Mentone, each bend bringing them to +fresh loveliness, to glimpses of new rocky +heights, to little silvery impetuous waterfalls, +to different views of the exquisite coast and of +the Mediterranean, which at its very bluest +spread out before them in calm beauty. At last +Donovan spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you had enough of Monaco yet? +Shall we go?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, I'll go to-morrow, if you'll come +back on the old footing to London," said Noir, +with a quick glance at his companion. +</p> + +<p> +"To that you've had your answer already," +he replied, coldly. "I shall never go back to +the old life. I told you so." +</p> + +<p> +"Saint!" said Noir, with his most disagreeable +sneer. +</p> + +<p> +"Saint or devil, I'm not going to do it," said +Donovan, his voice rising. "Call me what +names you like, but understand once for all +that when I say a thing I mean it." +</p> + +<p> +Noir knew that this was true enough, knew, +as he looked at the firm resolute face, that he +might more easily move the rocks at Monaco +than turn this fellow from his purpose. +</p> + +<p> +"A month at Paris might not be amiss," he +suggested, after a pause. "Berrogain is going +back next week; he's made his fortune +now—broke the bank yesterday." +</p> + +<p> +"I am ready to go, then," said Donovan. +"The sooner we're out of this place the better." +</p> + +<p> +"Paris would not be bad," mused Noir, half +to himself; "we shall come in for the meeting +at Chantilly; perhaps induce Darky Legge to +come over. Yes, that'll do; are you agreed?" +</p> + +<p> +"Agreed? Oh, yes," replied Donovan, shortly; +and then, as they passed a little wayside +chapel in the midst of an olive grove, he said, +with an abrupt change of tone, "Let us rest +here; one doesn't often get shade like this." +</p> + +<p> +And throwing himself down under one of +the gnarled old trees, with arms crossed +pillow-wise beneath his head, he lay watching the +glimpses of blue through the graceful network +of branches above him, and the still bluer depth +of sea down below, against which the dark +outlines of an iron cross stood out distinctly. +Noir filled his pipe, and sat with his back +against the trunk of the olive, not caring to +attempt any further conversation. +</p> + +<p> +"Life," thought the elder man, depressed by +his losses, "was particularly worthless and +uninteresting just at that time." "Life," thought +the younger, perplexed by his increasing +difficulties, troubled within and without, "life was +more than a man could well stand; it was +weary, and profitless, and utterly hateful." +</p> + +<p> +Thus they mused, each following his natural +bent, each calling that "life" which was in +reality death, each wondering that they found +it so barren and worthless. Neither could +understand that the very sense of insatiety +which came to them in their selfish lives was +the token of those higher affinities within them, +those faint needings and longings for the +Omnipresent Fire Divine, which He can—nay, +surely <i>does</i>, everywhere kindle. +</p> + +<p> +By-and-by, the one with a shrug, the other +with a sigh, the reveries were ended, the burden +of the so-called "life" was taken up once more; +the two walked on slowly, past the beautiful +villas and the fragrant orange groves, to +Mentone. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER VI. +<br><br> +LOSING SELF TO FIND. +</h2> + +<p class="intro"> + Man-like is it to fall into sin,<br> + Fiend-like is it to dwell therein,<br> + Christ-like is it for sin to grieve,<br> + God-like is it all sin to leave.<br> + <i>From the German</i>. LONGFELLOW.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Eleven o'clock on a May morning, the +bright sunshine peeping in obliquely +through the <i>persiennes</i>, and lighting up the +conventional French bed-room, with its wardrobe, +mirror, writing-table, and gilt clock, also a +well-worn, brown portmanteau, and a white and +tan fox-terrier stretched at full length on the +hearth-rug. Down below in the street there +was the rumbling of wheels, the busy, morning +traffic, occasionally the cheerful voices of busy +Parisians as they passed by, occupied, no doubt, +but not pressed and hurried as Londoners are. +</p> + +<p> +These were the sights and sounds which first +greeted Donovan on a day which he was never +to forget, a day every detail of which was +burnt in upon his brain with the ineffaceable +brand of suffering. He woke late, rang the bell +for his coffee, and then lay musing. He was a +rich man; the sensation was strange. A year +ago he had been cast adrift, friendless, almost +penniless; he had started with hardly any +possession in the world, except the brown +portmanteau and the fox-terrier which met his gaze +from the other side of the room; now he was +rich, a well-to-do man, for not many hours ago, +when the faint dawn was just beginning to +break, he had won a fortune at baccarat. In +spite of Ellis's wickedness, in spite of life-long +injustice, he had done well for himself. +</p> + +<p> +And yet, after all, did it make so very much +difference? Was this great success, this +unparalleled good fortune, so really worth having? +His heart did not feel any lighter, life did not +look more inviting when he got up that day. +At the actual time of his triumph his bliss had +been complete, his one passion rode rampant +over everything. A splendid game, a fortune +at stake, a fortune which he by his marvellous +play had won! Everything else was forgotten, +care for the time cast aside, weariness lost, +insatiety filled, the hollow unsatisfactory world +became a temporary paradise! +</p> + +<p> +But now it had passed, and the dull weight +of existence pressed on him once more. Was +he so much better off than poor M. Berrogain +even, the man by whose losses he had been +enriched? Was the loser many degrees more +depressed than the winner? +</p> + +<p> +He was just about to leave his room, when, +with a hasty knock, Noir Frewin entered. +</p> + +<p> +"Milord," he said, quickly, "you're wanted +in the next room; there's no end of a scene +going on—Berrogain's wife in floods of tears; +her husband has made off no one knows where, +and, from a few written words he left, seems to +intend suicide." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan gave a dismayed start, made a gesture of horror. +</p> + +<p> +"What!" he gasped, in a voice which contrasted +oddly with Noir's off-hand manner. +</p> + +<p> +"Simply what I say," said Noir. "Don't +look as if you'd already seen his ghost; of course +it's a bad business, but come in and see the +wife, and don't put her down as a widow till +we've found all the facts." +</p> + +<p> +With an impatient movement, Donovan +pushed past the speaker, and in a dazed +bewildered way found himself in the room where the +old captain was trying to say something cheering +to a little dark-eyed woman, whose piquant +face was wet with tears and pale with anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +"Here is M. Donovan," said Rouge, paternally; +"he has a good heart, madame—he will +help you." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! monsieur," she cried, turning to him +with streaming eyes, "listen, at least listen, to +my trouble. In the night my husband returns, +he tells me he is ruined—he, the fortunate, has +been ruined—all the fortune he made at Monaco +lost—gone. I ask him how, and he tells me it +is the young Englishman, the M. Donovan, of +whom so much was said at the club—he it is +who has caused the ruin. Oh! monsieur," and +here the poor little woman's voice was broken +with sobs, "you, who are so good, so prudent, +you whom they called the young Bayard, <i>sans +peur et sans reproche</i>—oh! monsieur, is it +possible that you did it? They said you were too +good for Monaco, but oh! monsieur, it is worse +to ruin others than to ruin yourself. Think, +monsieur—think what it means; you have +driven my husband away in despair—he may +even now be no more. Oh! <i>mon Dieu! mon +Dieu!</i> Think if the Seine be flowing over him! +Monsieur, speak to me, help me; it is you who +have brought us this evil—speak, monsieur!" +</p> + +<p> +Throughout the impassioned address Donovan +had stood rigidly still; he felt sick with +horror, the strength went out of his arms, for +the time he really was paralysed by the appalling +consciousness of the responsibility resting +on him. He had, perhaps—nay, probably—driven +a man to suicide, ruined and widowed +the poor woman before him. Was he much +better than a murderer? +</p> + +<p> +"Speak, monsieur!" reiterated Madame +Berrogain through her tears. +</p> + +<p> +He turned at last to Rouge appealingly. +</p> + +<p> +"I can't speak to her; you must——" +</p> + +<p> +"M. Donovan is much moved," said the old +captain; "he tells me to speak for him; be +assured, madame, that he will do all in his +power; he is good and——" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Do!</i>" interrupted Donovan, with a sudden +return of strength and vehemence—"is there +anything to do? Only tell me of any hope +that all this is not true, that your fears are +groundless——" +</p> + +<p> +"Alas! monsieur, but who can say?" sobbed +Madame Berrogain. "He is gone—gone—see +his last words!" and she held out to him a +sheet of paper, on which was written in French: +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"<i>My wife,—I cannot bear this intolerable misery. +I must fly from all most dear, and seek a refuge in +darkness; life is ended for me. Farewell! Thy +unhappy one,</i>—BERROGAIN." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +To Donovan the words conveyed little hope; +still he clung to the idea that there might +possibly be time to hinder this rash act, and with +the hope all the man within him re-asserted +itself. +</p> + +<p> +"Madame," he said, earnestly, "all that can +be done I will do. We will advertise in all the +papers; I will seek your husband in every place +in Paris where we know of any chance of finding +him. I will find him if I die in doing it." +</p> + +<p> +In spite of his bad French and limited means +of expression, in spite too of his grave stern +face, Madame Berrogain understood the depth +of the promise, and knew that the man who had +ruined her husband was yet a man to be trusted. +</p> + +<p> +"And you think there is hope," she cried. +"Oh! monsieur, you think there is really hope?" +</p> + +<p> +He struggled hard to speak, and, with his +habitual control, forced himself at last to say, +</p> + +<p> +"Be comforted, madame, I will do everything +that is possible; hope for the best, and to-night +we will bring you word. You shall know all +that has been done." +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur is good," said the poor wife, +wiping her eyes. "He will work, and I—I will +pray to our Lady." +</p> + +<p> +In a few minutes more she rose to leave, and, +with her <i>bonne</i> beside her, went back to her +desolate rooms. +</p> + +<p> +Donovan, as soon as she had left, drew paper +and ink to him, and sitting down began to +write rapidly. Rouge watched the forcible +characters as they were traced with a sort of +vague wonder and bewilderment. A few moments +before his companion had seemed utterly +unnerved, now his iron face and the swift +precision of his movements made him seem like a +machine. +</p> + +<p> +"What are you doing?" asked the captain, +curiously. +</p> + +<p> +"Advertisements," was the laconic reply, +spoken in the voice which more than anything +tells of a mind strained to the highest tension, +half sharp, half weary. +</p> + +<p> +Five minutes of writing, and then Donovan +rose, snatched up his hat and opened the door. +The captain stopped him. +</p> + +<p> +"Let me come with you, lad," he said, in his +good-humoured voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, come," said Donovan, with a shade of +relief in his tone; and then the two hurried +down the stairs and out into the sunny street. +Just outside the door they found Noir +sauntering up and down with his pipe; he stopped +them to ask their errand, gave his advice as to +putting the matter into the hands of the police, +and then turned away with his usual cool +nonchalance, under which was, nevertheless, hidden +more sympathy than might have been expected. +</p> + +<p> +"Milord is the very worst person for such a +thing to come to," he mused; "a man without +a conscience wouldn't have troubled himself to +think twice of the matter. Now Donovan's as +likely as not to go raving mad if this Berrogain +isn't found." +</p> + +<p> +At present there were no signs of the anticipated +"madness;" Donovan was perfectly quiet +and clear-headed, he walked on swiftly with +Rouge beside him, setting about his disagreeable +work in the most business-like way. In +spite of his English pronunciation too, there +was that about him which obliged the various +officials to receive his orders with civility and +obedience. +</p> + +<p> +Not to think—that was his one great effort, +but the horror of the overhanging dread would +obtrude itself,—or if by his strong will he +banished it for a time, it was only to be conscious, +through the hard matter-of-fact absence of +feeling which he forced himself into, of the dull +nameless weight at his heart. +</p> + +<p> +It was about four in the afternoon when they +reached the Pont d'Arcole, and the old captain +was beginning to feel both hungry and tired. +He looked at his companion then questioningly, +and saw a little additional sternness about his +face. Groups of men were leaning over the +parapet watching the river; Donovan too +paused for a moment and looked down at the +sparkling water; Rouge fancied he saw him +shudder, but he did not speak, and walked on +again more rapidly than before. +</p> + +<p> +"Where next?" asked the captain, anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +"To the Morgue," said Donovan, in a firm +but very low voice. +</p> + +<p> +They went on in silence, and before long +found themselves in the little crowd which was +continually passing up and down the steps and +through the doors of the small insignificant +building which is dedicated to so painful a +purpose. +</p> + +<p> +"I will wait here for you," said Rouge, for he +rather shrank from going inside, and Donovan, +without a word, left him and pushed his way in +with the eager crowd. +</p> + +<p> +The waiting seemed long to the old captain; +he began to wonder whether his companion had +found poor Monsieur Berrogain in that dread +room within, and anxiously scanned the faces of +those who came out. Soldiers in shabby +uniforms, women in their snowy white caps, men +of all ranks and ages, sometimes even little +children in arms. +</p> + +<p> +At length, in this motley but cheerful and +unconcerned crowd, came the face which Rouge +was waiting for, a curious contrast to every +other, stern, and sad, and white to the very lips. +</p> + +<p> +The captain was startled. +</p> + +<p> +"Good heavens! milord," he cried, "you +have not found him, have you?" +</p> + +<p> +Donovan shook his head, and clutched at his +companion's arm to steady himself. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, you're ill," said the captain. "Within +an ace of fainting." +</p> + +<p> +"Nonsense, nothing of the kind," panted +Donovan. "Only let us get away from this +place," and with Rouge's assistance he crossed +the road, but there, finding his strength failing, +was obliged to lean up against the railings, +even to cling to them for support. The +horrible sight, the dread of what he might +possibly find, had completely unnerved him, +for one dreadful moment, too, he had fancied +that he recognized M. Berrogain, and, in spite +of the subsequent relief at his mistake, he could +not recover from the shock. +</p> + +<p> +"Only don't let's have a scene," was his +answer to all Rouge's suggestions, and at last, +with the old captain's help, he managed to get +as far as the entrance to the garden east of +Notre Dame, and to rest on a bench under the +trees. +</p> + +<p> +Everything there was bright and peaceful, +the grey old church, with its pinnacles and +flying buttresses, the fresh green of the spring +leaves, the sunshine streaming down with that +gaiety and brightness which seem specially to +characterise Paris, and here and there a little +child at play with its <i>bonne</i> in attendance. +Once a tiny, fairy-like little thing, whose white +dress showed that she was "dedicated to the +Virgin," stole up to Donovan—she had watched +him with a sort of fascination ever since he had +thrown himself down on the bench. Was it +merely compassion for one who seemed ill, or +was it that peculiar attraction which Donovan +possessed for children? The tiny maid, prompted +by some unknown influence, at any rate +resolved to do her best for him, and, with her +little quick fingers, began gathering marguerites, +then, grasping the bunch with her two fat little +hands, she toddled up to the silent figure, and, +with a premonitory pat to arouse him, laid her +offering on his knees. +</p> + +<p> +"See then, monsieur, the pretty flowers, +they are all for you." +</p> + +<p> +He put his hand for a moment on the dimpled +one of his tiny friend, and, as well as he could, +thanked her, but the daring little mite was soon +pursued by an indignant nurse. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle Gabrielle, come away this +moment. Ah! little wicked one! I dare not +take my eyes off thee for a single instant!" +</p> + +<p> +So Mademoiselle Gabrielle was led away in +disgrace, but looked round nevertheless to kiss +her hand, and to nod her pretty little head in +farewell, and Donovan followed her with his +eyes, with a great pain at his heart. The little +child's gift touched him strangely, it had come +in such a moment of tumult and horror, when +self was feeling so utterly hateful, the weight +of dread responsibility so heavy, and this fairy-like +creature had pitied him, liked him, he was +grateful with the almost passionate gratitude of +humility. +</p> + +<p> +For it was a very terrible thing this that had +come to him, this woe that he had unthinkingly +brought about. He was very young still, only +just two and twenty, and in spite of his +wretched roving life, in spite of the bitter +misanthropy he professed, there was still in him +the chivalry of all strong natures, the nobleness +which must protect what is weak; little +children and women he looked upon with a sort of +devotion; from his very childhood it had been +so, the ideal of motherhood, the passionate love +for Dot, had been the ruling motives of his life. +The ideal of the wife was still unformed, he had +never loved, or even fancied that he loved any +woman. Only when the thought of home-life +came to him, as now and then it would, when +he saw the outer side of the lives of others, the +vision of the grey-eyed stranger whom he had +met in Hyde Park would rise up before him, +the tender, bright, womanly woman, whose +purity and sweetness had had such a powerful +influence over him—had even helped to keep +him straight when he had been exposed to the +countless snares of Monaco. +</p> + +<p> +Because of this strong reverence for women, +the scene of the morning had been specially +painful to him. The poor wife's misery, which +must have haunted anyone with a heart, haunted +him with a pain and shame almost intolerable. +But fortunately he was—notwithstanding all +his failings—brave and manly, he struggled +now with his weakness, and began to make his +plans for further searching—that "doing" +which was such a relief to his burdened mind. +</p> + +<p> +"We will come to one of Duval's places and +have some dinner," was his first voluntary +remark to the old captain, about as sensible and +matter-of-fact a proposal as could have been +made. +</p> + +<p> +So they went to the nearest of the restaurants, +and Rouge's devoted attendance was rewarded +by the privilege of ordering whatever +he liked, while Donovan gulped down enough +food to support him in his work, conquering +his utter disinclination till he had satisfied his +conscience, and then calling Waif to devour the +plentiful leavings. +</p> + +<p> +After that came another deliberate plunge +into the crowded streets, another long continued +but utterly vain search for the lost man. +Ceaseless inquiries, endless hurryings to and +fro, once or twice a supposed clue to M. Berrogain's +whereabouts, to be followed by temporary +hope and bitter disappointment. +</p> + +<p> +Once, as the evening wore on, Donovan +stopped at a <i>café</i> on one of the boulevards and +made the old captain have a cup of <i>café noir</i>, +even permitted the <i>petit verre</i> without a +remonstrance; but this time he was too sick at heart +to force himself to take anything, hope had +almost died out since his last disappointment, +and the numbing paralysing horror was beginning +to overwhelm him again. +</p> + +<p> +Rouge, as he sipped his coffee contentedly, +happened to look across the little marble table +at his silent companion, and then for the first +time realised that the day's anxiety had been +something far severer than he could +comprehend. For Donovan's face was worn and +haggard, grey with that strange ghastliness +which only comes on such young faces in times +of great exhaustion; the firm mouth betrayed +suffering, the eyes, though feverishly alive to +all that was passing, had a painfully despairing +look in them. +</p> + +<p> +"Donovan, lad," said Rouge, anxiously, "you +will come home now, won't you?" +</p> + +<p> +"You go home, captain," he answered, +"you've had a long day, I? no, I can't come +yet. I must see whether the police have found +anything, and I must see <i>her</i>—Madame Berrogain." +</p> + +<p> +"Milord, you'll only be ill again," remonstrated +the old man, "you'll do for yourself one +of these days." +</p> + +<p> +"That means I shall do the best thing that +could be done," said Donovan, with an odd +sudden smile, followed by a quick sigh. "But +you see, captain, this coil of flesh is terribly +tough. Good night, go home and rest." +</p> + +<p> +He pushed back his chair suddenly, threw +down a franc beside the captain's cup, and +before his companion could remonstrate had +walked away rapidly alone. +</p> + +<p> +At length, wearily and quite hopelessly, he +went to see if any of the agencies he had set +to work had been successful in tracing +M. Berrogain. He had some minutes to wait in +the <i>bureau</i> of the chief official, but at last a +small sharp-faced man appeared with a paper +in his hand, and an all-pervading odour of +garlic, which was quite beneath the dignity of +his position. +</p> + +<p> +"You are come to inquire for Théodore +Berrogain, disappeared mysteriously since the +hour of 4 a.m. Good! I think we have +traced him." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan did not speak, only breathed more +quickly and clenched and unclenched his hands, +his usual sign of strong feeling. +</p> + +<p> +"Inquiries have been made, and this is the +result,—at the <i>Gare d'Orléans</i> the <i>chef</i> states +that a man answering to your description, much +above the usual height, pale, with thick light +hair and moustaches, and a cast in one eye, +was seen early this morning at the station; the +official at the ticket office also remembers him, +and will undertake to swear that he issued a +ticket to him for Bordeaux, third class. Acting +upon this, monsieur, we have telegraphed to +the officials at Bordeaux; the train by which +it is supposed M. Berrogain left Paris reaches +Bordeaux this evening at 10.30, it will be met +by our agents there, and they will telegraph to +us the movements of your friend." +</p> + +<p> +Doubtless the man thought the "friendship" +was a remarkable one—one must love a +companion much to be so particularly anxious +about him, and Donovan's intense relief, though +so thoroughly undemonstrative, was nevertheless +apparent even to the sleepy official. He +arranged to call early the next morning for +further tidings, and then hurried away to +relieve poor Madame Berrogain's anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +Anyone who knows the sensation of a sudden +respite, the removal of an intolerable load, +the relief from oppressing fear, will understand +with what feelings Donovan hastened along +the gas-lit streets. He was treading on air; +new life was coursing through his veins; the +very consciousness of free unburdened existence +was in itself exquisite. And then came +the satisfaction of imparting his hopeful news +to the poor wife, amid a torrent of fervent +thanks, tears, incoherent blessings, and +exclamations of relief. +</p> + +<p> +He tried to cut the scene short, and it was +not till he was standing at the open door that +he placed in Madame Berrogain's hands a small +piece of paper. +</p> + +<p> +"I give this to you, madame, because I think +it is better so. To-morrow I shall go to your +husband, and I will tell him what you hold for +him." +</p> + +<p> +He would have moved to the staircase, but +Madame Berrogain laid her hand on his arm. +She had glanced rapidly at the paper, and now +the tears were streaming down her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, monsieur, this is too good! This +must not be! Take it back, monsieur, I +implore." +</p> + +<p> +"Madame asks what is impossible," he replied, +with his rare and beautiful smile. "One +day's possession is sufficient for me; only, if I +might be allowed one suggestion, I would say +that it were better used for madame's own +needs, not risked again at baccarat." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! God bless you! God guard you!" +exclaimed the little wife, clasping her hands +together. "Monsieur, I shall remember you +always. On my knees I shall remember you, +believe it. Ah! heaven, if all were but like +you!" +</p> + +<p> +He submitted to having his hand pressed in +both hers for a moment, then, bowing low, he +hastened away. +</p> + +<p> +After that, naturally enough came the +reaction. He was dreadfully worn out, and apart +from his relief, everything that faced him in the +future was most painful. For this great shock +had shown him what a hateful life he was +leading, and he knew that it must be forsaken. +</p> + +<p> +He found the old captain in his room smoking, +told him of Monsieur Berrogain's probable +whereabouts, and then, with a sigh of great +weariness, stretched himself at full length on +the hearthrug. Before very long Noir came in, +and having heard the news in his cool, +uninterested way, remarked, carelessly, +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I'm glad for your sake that the fellow's +in the land of the living still. I suppose +he's off to America?" +</p> + +<p> +"He will be watched and arrested, if he +attempts it," said Donovan. "To-morrow +morning I shall start for Bordeaux. It is the +only sure way of making all right to see him +myself." +</p> + +<p> +"Folly!" said Noir, crossly. "Why, the best +thing he can do is to leave the country." +</p> + +<p> +"Madame Berrogain might not agree with you." +</p> + +<p> +"But the fellow's ruined. You know he can't +live here." +</p> + +<p> +"You are mistaken," said Donovan, quietly. +"He is not ruined." +</p> + +<p> +"What!" cried Noir, in a startled voice. +"You mean that you have let him off, that +you've been such an utter fool as to let those +thousands slip through your fingers again?" +</p> + +<p> +"Exactly—yes—such an utter fool," said +Donovan, with a touch of satire. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, milord, you're a softer fellow then +than I thought. A woman's tears and an absurd +scare lest a weak-minded wretch should have +drowned himself, and you melt directly, become +the generous hero of the piece, fling <i>largesse</i> to +right and left, and walk off amid cheers and +applause. I'd no idea you were so weak-minded! +Besides, you know well enough you'll +repent your bargain in a few days. As your +favourite Monsieur Renan says, 'Most beautiful +actions are done in a state of fever.' You'll +recover and repent it." +</p> + +<p> +"Do I seem feverishly excited?" asked Donovan, +quietly. "And do I generally fail in +deliberation?" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't bother him now," interposed the old +captain. "We've had an awful day of it." +</p> + +<p> +"What in the world you did it for I can't +conceive," said Noir, unheeding. "You who profess +to rail at the injustice of life! you who call +yourself a misanthrope! What induced you to +spend your time on such a search? What does +it matter to you if all the world is ruined?" +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose, after all, I didn't hate the whole +world," said Donovan, slowly, "or else the +hatred was all needed in another direction." +</p> + +<p> +Noir caught his meaning, and, because he +could just recognise its humility and sad +honesty, it roused all the evil in him; he knew +that his companion was slipping away from +him. +</p> + +<p> +"And how does your moral highness propose +to live if you refund the money you won?" The +question was put with a contemptuous sneer. +</p> + +<p> +"How I shall live, Noir," answered Donovan, +gravely, "I cannot tell, but by gambling I shall +not live." +</p> + +<p> +"We shall see," said Noir, "when you +recover from this state of fever. Why, do you +think that in a moment like this you can end +the strongest incentive of your life? You know +perfectly well that you don't care a rush for +anything except the cards." +</p> + +<p> +"You've about hit it," said Donovan, "but," +with a firmness which seemed to give treble +force to each separate word, "<i>I will not play +again.</i>" +</p> + +<p> +For a minute both the Frewins were silent; +both involuntarily looked at their companion +as he lay, his thin skilful hands clasped over his +dark hair, his face resolute and full of noble +purpose; he was quietly renouncing all he had +as yet cared for in life, all by which he could +win admiration, success, pleasure, and these +two men knew it. Rouge was the first to +speak. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, lad, we will do the best we can for +you; you will stay on with us." +</p> + +<p> +And then the look of struggle came back to +Donovan's face; he rose hurriedly, and began +to pace up and down the room, scarcely hearing +what his companions said to him. +</p> + +<p> +At last he stopped abruptly in his walk, and +said, hoarsely, +</p> + +<p> +"No, I can't stay, captain." +</p> + +<p> +"Can't!—nonsense!" said Noir. "We don't +part after a whole year together in this way." +</p> + +<p> +"I must go," he repeated. "I dare not stay." +</p> + +<p> +"Dare not!—what, we are so bad that we +shall corrupt your moral highness! Oh! go +then, by all means, and may you find friends +more faithful and better suited to your lofty +standard!" +</p> + +<p> +"Frewin," said Donovan, very sadly, "you +know well enough that it is myself I dare not +trust. If you think that I could stay with you +and all our own set, and yet keep to my word, +well and good. But I could not do it; it will +be hard any way, impossible like that." +</p> + +<p> +"A few months ago you would have scorned +to say anything was impossible." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I've been taken down a few pegs +since then, and now I do say it and mean it. +Good night, Noir." +</p> + +<p> +"When do you leave!" +</p> + +<p> +"To-morrow by the 9.20. Good night and +good-bye." +</p> + +<p> +Noir took his hand for a moment, looked him +full in the face, as though to read what was +written there, then, with an impatient gesture, +he turned away. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye. I see we have done with each +other." +</p> + +<p> +Sweepstakes, waking up, screamed out his +habitual greetings. +</p> + +<p> +"Such a talkin', such a talkin', what a parcel +of fools! Ain't you a fool!—ain't you a fool, +milord!" +</p> + +<p> +The old captain, with maudlin tears coursing +down his cheeks, hurried after the retreating +figure, and it was long before Donovan could +quiet the piteous entreaties that he would +change his mind, would stay at least a few +days longer, or would promise to come back +when he had seen M. Berrogain. Parting with +his companions was a greater wrench than he +had feared even; they had been very good to +him, had nursed him through his illness with +rough but very real care, and they were the +only friends he had in the whole world. And +yet he knew that he must leave them; they +were inseparably bound up with the evil he +was trying to free himself from—both must be +renounced. +</p> + +<p> +He took leave of Rouge that night, and early +next day started on his solitary journey—solitary +with the exception of Waif. The address +he needed had been telegraphed to the official +when he went to inquire on his way to the +station, and it was a substantial relief to his +anxiety to be able to repeat to himself the +assurance of M. Berrogain's safety—"Hôtel +Montré, Rue Montesquieu, Bordeaux." There +was, however, just a little flatness and +depression now that all was ended; he took his ticket, +and then went into the <i>salle d'attente</i>, the +"durance vile" which generally gives an +Englishman a chafed caged feeling. As he paced up +and down, too, there was a touch of far-off +dread in his face—the dread of the unknown +future, which of all expressions is one of the +most painful to see. +</p> + +<p> +Noir Frewin, suddenly entering the room in +search of his late companion, caught the look +and understood it; unprincipled as he was he +could not help respecting a resolution which +could so steadily persevere in direct opposition +to personal wishes, and there was none of the +malice of the previous night in his tone when he +spoke. +</p> + +<p> +Donovan turned hastily at the sound of his +own name; he was ill-prepared just then for a +repetition of the scornful upbraidings which he +had borne silently a few hours ago. Noir saw +that his arrival was not very welcome. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm only come to see you off," he explained. +"You're quite right, milord, after all; go and +save yourself while you can." +</p> + +<p> +"Saving is not the question," said Donovan, +"even if I believed in such a thing; but at any +rate one needn't do others harm." +</p> + +<p> +"A change in your views, lad, since we first +went into partnership," said Noir. "Your anger +with whoever it was who had ruined you has +cooled with time." +</p> + +<p> +"His offence looks small now that I am the +bigger brute," replied Donovan. Then, as the +doors were thrown open, he put his arm within +Noir's once more, and they went out together +to the train. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye, old fellow," he said, rather +hoarsely, just before the final start; "let us +hope my lungs won't give out again, or I shall +be crying out for you." +</p> + +<p> +"Till then we are best away from each +other," said Noir, giving his hand a farewell +grip. "Good-bye, Farrant. We part as we +met, you see, in a railway-carriage." +</p> + +<p> +The train moved off; Frewin, with a fierce +sigh, turned away, and Donovan was whirled +through the vast plains of central France, +marvelling not a little how his companion had +learnt his real name, the name which he had +taken such pains to conceal. +</p> + +<p> +Thirteen hours later and he was standing in +the crowded <i>salle</i> at the Bordeaux Station; he +was very tired, a trifle desolate too, alone +among foreigners, alone with such a "howling +wilderness" of a future as he fancied before +him, the future of restraint which he had +chosen. Waiting rather impatiently till the +doors of the luggage-room should be opened, he +scanned the faces of the crowd, the usual busy +cheerful crowd of a French railway-station; a +group of men whiling away the waiting-time +with laughter and occasional snatches of song, +two lovers sitting on a bench in the corner, +whispering contentedly together, regardless of +their surroundings, a fat rough-featured priest, +with his shovel hat and starched bands, a +respectable <i>bourgeois</i> and his wife, followed by +a toddling bare-headed child. +</p> + +<p> +Instinctively Donovan watched the little one. +The mother turned round, saying playfully, +"Adieu! adieu!" pretending to leave it; the +child let them walk on a few steps, and then, +with sudden dread of being left, ran at full +speed after them with an eager "<i>Non, non, non,</i>" +and grasped its mother's skirts; then both +father and mother laughed, each took one of +the tiny hands, and the three walked away together. +</p> + +<p> +Home dramas all around him, love in all its +forms and degrees—the friend's, the lover's, the +mother's, the wife's! He sighed, and stooped +down to pat Waif. Then followed the general +rush into the adjoining room, he went to +claim his portmanteau, and in a few minutes +was out in the starlight, on his way to M. Berrogain. +</p> + +<p> +His desolateness made him think of Dot, of +the times when he too had had some one to love +and protect. They were sad, but on the whole +peaceful thoughts which came to him as he +crossed the bridge, pausing for a moment to +look at the long chain of lights marking out +the crescent-shaped quays. She, the holy +child of his memory, was at peace; it was +perhaps well that she had passed away from him, +he had not been fit to be near such purity and +loveliness, and as she had grown older it was +possible that he might have pained her—pained +her by his unworthiness. That thought was +intolerable. And so, unconsciously, he +repeated to himself Noir Frewin's words—"We +were better parted." Neither of them knew +that the unselfishness and humility prompting +the thought was drawing them to the Source +of all love. +</p> + +<p> +The walk was a long one, through broad +well-built streets, past the theatre, on again +into narrower and darker thoroughfares, till +Donovan began to wonder whether the porter +whom he had hired to carry his portmanteau, +were not perhaps taking him by some roundabout +way in the hope of extorting a larger +pourboire. At last, turning to the left, they +passed through a circular market-place, and +down a narrow street with high dingy-looking +houses. +</p> + +<p> +"There, monsieur," said the porter, with a +wave of the hand, "that is the Hôtel Montré." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan saw at the corner the inevitable +<i>Café Billard</i>, and upon the upper storeys the +name of the hotel inscribed. The porter went +on to the entrance, and Donovan, following, +found himself in a paved courtyard with two +mouldy-looking orange-trees growing in tubs, +and a dim light proceeding from the room of +the <i>concierge</i>. He inquired at once for +M. Berrogain, and was relieved to find that he was +known still by his real name. He was within +too, had taken his key not five minutes before, +would monsieur see him at once or be shown to +his own room? +</p> + +<p> +Donovan desired to see M. Berrogain at +once, and, having dismissed his guide, was +ushered by a pretty, little, white-capped servant +up a dirty stone staircase, along a labyrinth +of passages, then up again and through a +corresponding labyrinth darker and dirtier than +that below. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps monsieur sleeps," suggested the +little servant, glancing round as she paused at +a door to the right. "It is very late," and she +pretended to yawn. +</p> + +<p> +"Knock and see," said Donovan, impatient of +the delay. +</p> + +<p> +A quick <i>entrez!</i> relieved his fears, and, taking +the candle from his conductress, he opened the +door and found himself in a fairly comfortable +room, where, extended on a shabby green +velvet sofa, lay M. Berrogain, the <i>Figaro</i> in his +hand, the <i>Gironde</i> lying at his feet. For a +moment the thought would come, "He is +unconcerned and comfortable enough; you need not +have troubled about him." But while Donovan +paused, the unconscious Frenchman glanced +round; he had been absorbed in his paper, and +had half forgotten that some one had knocked +and been admitted; now catching sight so +unexpectedly of the man who had ruined him, he +sprang to his feet with a cry half of fear, half of +passion. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! evil one, why do you pursue me?" he +said, in trembling tones. "Would you +remember a petty debt of two hundred francs when +you have won a fortune from me? Stony-hearted +wretch! would you pelt a fallen man? +You have tracked me—you the rich the +successful will hunt down the unfortunate for a +miserable trifle such as that!" +</p> + +<p> +"I am not rich," said Donovan, "nor are you +unfortunate." +</p> + +<p> +"Miserable Englishman!" cried out M. Berrogain. +"Why do you mock me? You are +come to drive me to despair, to death! Why +could you not let me leave the country in +peace? Why do you come with your grasping +avarice to——" +</p> + +<p> +"Listen, Berrogain," interrupted Donovan, in +his firm sad voice. "I could not let you leave +the country, because there is no need for you to +go; I am not mocking you; be quiet and listen. +To-morrow morning you can go back to your +wife at Paris; she holds the fortune which you +lost at baccarat." +</p> + +<p> +They were standing by the draped mantel-piece; +Donovan turned away as he spoke, and +putting aside the muslin curtains looked down +into the dimly-lighted street. He was not sorry +to feel the fresh air upon his face. +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment's silence, then M. Berrogain +came forward and took his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"My friend," he said, falteringly, "forgive +what I have said; I was in despair. But this +generosity—no—no, it cannot be, it cannot be." +</p> + +<p> +"It <i>must</i> be," said Donovan, quietly. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no; leave me enough to go on upon, or +allow me six months' respite, I should be more +than content with that." +</p> + +<p> +"But I should not," said Donovan, decidedly. +"No, Berrogain, everything is settled, so do not +let us waste words on the subject." +</p> + +<p> +"But it is unheard of!" said M. Berrogain. +"It is noble, generous, kind; but, my good +friend, before you commit yourself, think how +will you get on in the world if you act in such +a way?" +</p> + +<p> +"That," said Donovan, with a half smile, "is +a question yet to be solved, but I do not mean +to live by other men's losses. Enough has +been said though about it all. Can one get +anything to eat in this place? I'm furiously +hungry!" +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! but you are an Englishman!" said +M. Berrogain, amused by the request. "There is a +restaurant just opposite, let me come with you." +</p> + +<p> +"To watch the voracious islander!" said +Donovan, laughing. "To-night I shall keep +up the national character. I could eat half a +roast beef if there was a chance of getting it!" +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! is it possible?" said the Frenchman. +"And at this time of night, too!" +</p> + +<p> +He did not think that the anxiety which he +had caused could possibly have affected his +companion's appetite on the previous day, and +sat amusedly at the table, watching the +absolute demolition of the largest piece of <i>Ros-bif +rôti</i> which the restaurant could produce. +</p> + +<p> +Then somewhere in the small hours Donovan +found his way to the rather dingy wainscoted +room which had been allotted him, and, in spite +of the noisy orgies being carried on in the room +below, was soon sleeping profoundly. +</p> + +<p> +M. Berrogain left for Paris the next day, and +Donovan went to the station with him, submitted +to his demonstrative gratitude, and then +turned away rather disconsolately to make the +best of his new life. He wandered about the +place for some little time, found his way into +the beautiful Church of St. Michel, looked +wonderingly and half pityingly at the groups of +worshippers drawing their <i>prie-Dieu</i> up to the +side altars, then sauntered out again, along the +quays, among the tramways and trucks, the +coils of rope and the chains, idly scrutinizing +the closely-moored vessels and the busy work +of lading or unlading, or coaling, which was +going on. Everywhere work and business. +And he too must work, he had been leading a +wretched self-indulgent life, he would work +now, indeed he must work to live. The question +was what should he do, and where should +he go? +</p> + +<p> +He had rather a hankering after America, +but that idea had to be given up, for he had +not enough to pay his passage; it seemed to be +a choice of trying for some situation in +Bordeaux itself, or of going back to England, the +chances of finding immediate employment being +about equally small in either case. He decided +at last to let fate choose his destination, and +tossed up a <i>petit sou</i>—heads he was to go to +England, and thus it fell. +</p> + +<p> +With a half sigh he pocketed the coin, looked +at his watch, and then hurried away to find out +when the next steamer left for Liverpool. There +was one that evening to his relief, and he +hastened back to the Hôtel Montré, glad that +his hours in its dingy rooms were numbered. +The passage was being swept by the little +white-capped maid-servant as he passed down +it, and as he put his things together the refrain +of the song she was singing floated in to him: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Oui, malgré ta philosophie<br> + L'amour seul peut charmer la vie."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Over and over it went, a tuneless little +chant, and with strange persistency it rang in +his ears long after, "L'amour seul!—l'amour +seul!" Was it indeed that which could alone +make life supportable? He was not quite +the misanthrope he had considered himself, but +had he any love for his kind? Many times he +asked himself that question, as he stood on the +deck of the steamer while it ploughed its way +through the Bay of Biscay, or lay with Waif +at his feet, like a recumbent crusader, looking +up at the starry skies. Did he only not +hate?—was there anything more active than that in +his feeling towards the rest of the world? +</p> + +<p> +All this time he had hardly realised the +hardness of the task he had set himself. He had +willed never to play again, and was quite at +rest now that the resolution was made, for +never in his whole life had he failed to do a +thing which he had deliberately undertaken. +His confidence in his own strength was +boundless, and though he had reasonably enough +seen the impossibility of still living with the +Frewins, now that he had once broken with +the old set he did not give a thought to other +possible temptations. +</p> + +<p> +And thus, perfectly satisfied with the strength +of his will, and full of his new and good +purposes, he was set down at Liverpool. Then +followed a time of bitter disappointment; though +he had just renounced a fortune, the world gave +him the cold shoulder again, and his money +began to evaporate, to disappear with the horrid +rapidity which becomes so noticeable when we +are counting by units instead of tens. And very +soon came the temptation. He had been out +all day in the weary useless search after work, +the evening set in wet and chilly, as he passed +down the gaslit streets to his cheerless lodging +a familiar sound made him pause, he was passing +a billiard-room—the sharp click of the balls, +the eager voices, how natural it all sounded! +He had taken no resolution against playing +billiards. Why should he not relieve this +intolerable dulness by an hour or two of +amusement? A momentary struggle followed, then +he pushed open the door and went in. How +long he was there he could never clearly +remember, but it was not until a substantial token +of his wonted success lay before him that he +realised the failure of his will. He, the strong +and self-reliant, had yielded to the very first +temptation, had failed most miserably. He +dropped the cue, pushed away the money, and +amid a chorus of surprise and inquiry strode +out of the room. +</p> + +<p> +Too completely dismayed and bewildered to +find any relief in his usual custom of rapid +walking, he went back to his wretched lodging, +and there sat motionless in the summer twilight +in blank silent despair. Everything was +lost—friends, money, pleasure, worst of all, his +confidence in himself. What was there left? +Nothing, he said, but a wretched life that was +far better ended, a despicable "I," that must +struggle to find itself bread, because—only +because of a dim, inexplicable, unreasonable idea +that self-destruction was wrong. What possible +good was there in his life to himself or to +anyone else? He did not think then of his +influence with the Frewins, he could only feel +that he had cheated himself, failed in his +purpose, sunk irrevocably in his own opinion; what +guarantee was there, too, that his will would +not fail again? +</p> + +<p> +Two paws on his knee and a soft warm +tongue licking his hand roused him at length. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! Waif," he exclaimed, with a great sigh, +"if only I'd a tenth of your goodness, old dog!" +</p> + +<p> +By-and-by he lit the gas, dragged out the +tin of dog biscuits, and gave Waif his supper, +glancing in between the mouthfuls at the +advertisement columns of an open, newspaper +which lay on the table. Once the dog was +kept begging for quite a minute, for his master +had become absorbed in what he was reading. +</p> + +<p> +"Wanted, as secretary to the —— Institute, +a young man of good abilities, knowledge of +book-keeping and a clear handwriting +indispensable; salary £100. Apply in person, on +the 15th or 16th, the President, —— Institute, +Exeter." +</p> + +<p> +Secretary!—surely he was well fitted for the +post. Possibly, too, there would be less +competition down in the quiet west-country; here +in Liverpool his chance of success seemed +infinitesimally small. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, my dog," he said, almost cheerfully, +as he threw down the next mouthful, "shall +we set off together and try our luck? £100 a +year would keep you in biscuits, so there's +some reason in it, after all." +</p> + +<p> +The necessary inquiry, however, into his +resources showed him only too plainly that he +had not enough money for the journey; after +his present expenses had been paid, his worldly +possessions would have dwindled down to a +sum below the price of a third-class ticket to +Exeter. His watch and chain had been in pawn +ever since the day after his arrival; he had no +other valuables, nothing by which he could +raise money, nothing except—— His eye fell +on Dot's little travelling-clock, and he started +painfully. The idea of selling that had never +occurred to him before. In all his wanderings +it had been with him—it was almost the only +thing he still had which had belonged to her; +to part with it seemed unbearable, and +especially so in this particular way. To take it +deliberately with his own hands and bargain +about it, to leave it—the very thing which she +had touched, and fondled, and admired—in a +pawnbroker's shop, to let the silvery cathedral +chime which she had loved fall on the ears of +strangers, it seemed like desecration! And +only an hour ago the money he had so much +needed had been his. If he had but taken it, +all this difficulty would have been avoided. But +then his better self made its voice heard. +</p> + +<p> +"No, my little Dot, no," he said aloud; +"better a thousand times that this should go +than that I should have been doubly false to +myself." +</p> + +<p> +He did then what he very seldom ventured +to do—drew his little miniature of Dot from its +place and looked at it steadfastly. +</p> + +<p> +Sweet, child-like little face, clear, satisfied +eyes, can you not speak to him, and tell him +that love cannot die, that he is compassed +about with a cloud of witnesses, that his +struggles to live honestly, his despair at the +revelation of his weakness, even his present sacrifice +to a shadowy instinct rather than to a principle—all +is helping to draw him towards you? +</p> + +<p> +No, comfort cannot be his yet. He cannot +see that the pain and loss are necessary to the +great gain; he can only go on bravely and +painfully in the darkness, holding to the faint +track of right and duty which he begins faintly +to perceive. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the little cathedral clock was +standing on a shelf among other clocks, large +and small, in a Liverpool pawnbroker's shop, +and Donovan was walking back to his room +through the driving rain with head bent low, +and thirty shillings in his pocket. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER VII. +<br><br> +"O'ER MOOR AND FEN." +</h2> + +<p class="intro"> + Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control,<br> + These three alone lead life to sovereign power,<br> + Yet not for power (power of herself<br> + Would come uncall'd for), but to live by law,<br> + Acting the law we live by without fear;<br> + And, because right is right, to follow right<br> + Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence.<br> + TENNYSON.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +And after all the struggle seemed utterly +useless, for the Exeter —— Institute +would not accept him as secretary. He was in +every way suited for their purpose, and by far +the most promising of the candidates; but in a +close cross-examination the insuperable barrier +was brought to light. +</p> + +<p> +"And your religious views, sir?" asked the +president. "As this is a charitable institution, +we always make a point of knowing the views +of our staff. It is well to be united. Do you +belong to the High or Low party?" +</p> + +<p> +"To neither," said Donovan, stiffly. "I am +an atheist." +</p> + +<p> +And in those four words lay his doom; because +the institute was a <i>charitable</i> one it could not +help such a hardened sinner, could not let its +accounts and letters be contaminated by his +touch. +</p> + +<p> +"I have come from a great distance in the +hope of getting this post," said Donovan, +swallowing his pride. "I am very much in need of +work. Surely in the mechanical work of a +secretary such a matter as one's private creed +might be passed over. What difference can it +make to anyone else?" +</p> + +<p> +"My dear sir," said the head of the charitable +institution, "I can only refer you to the Bible, +where you will find the injunction: 'Be not +unequally yoked together with unbelievers,' and +'What part hath he that believeth with an +infidel?'" +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Alas! for the rarity<br> + Of Christian charity<br> + Under the sun."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +With the indifference of his kind, however, +the frigid adherence to the letter, and the +disregard of the spirit, a sort of bitter resolution +awoke in Donovan's heart. He would not be +doomed by a "charitable" institution, he would +not sink down quietly into starvation. Life in +itself was not worth a straw, but just from +opposition, from a manly love of breasting "the +blows of circumstance," he would struggle on, +fight down all obstacles, live to be of use too, +in spite of the president's specimen of Christian +generosity and brotherliness. Fiercely through +his teeth he quoted Shylock's passionate words, +"Hath not a Jew eyes? ... fed with the same +food ... warmed and cooled by the same winter +and summer as a Christian is?" +</p> + +<p> +He had been two days at Exeter; now returning +to his lodgings, he sat down and resolutely +went over all possible plans for his future. +Should he go back to Greyshot? Mr. Alleyne, +the man with whom he used to read, might +possibly put him in the way of employment. It +was not very likely, though, and there were +many objections to a return to the old +neighbourhood. Should he write to old Mr. Hayes? +He might be at home again by this time, though +in the winter Doery had said he was still +abroad. But Mr. Hayes was poor, and would +unquestionably think only of monetary help. +No, that would not do. Should he go home +and throw himself on his mother's mercy? But +that thought was too wildly impracticable as +well as too painful to be allowed for a moment. +What connections had he in this part of the +world? What had his father's business in +Plymouth been, when four years ago they had gone +there together? Searching back in his memory +he at length recalled the name of his father's +acquaintance, and remembered that he had +described him as a pleasant elderly man. He +was a banker—there would be no difficulty in +finding his address. +</p> + +<p> +He began a letter to him at once, a brief, +business-like, stiff letter, not at all like that of a +starving man asking for help. But then he +had no intention of starving. He was young +and strong-willed, undaunted still, notwithstanding +his repulses. +</p> + +<p> +Having despatched the letter, he made up his +mind to follow it; there was no hope of finding +work in this quiet old city; at Plymouth he +would have more chance. He might just as +well spend his time in getting there as in +loafing about the Exeter streets. Getting there +meant walking, for the proceeds of the clock +were nearly exhausted, and would barely +suffice to get him some sort of food and shelter, +but he rather enjoyed the thought of the +exercise, and even the prospect of "roughing +it" a little. +</p> + +<p> +So the next morning, with his few belongings +stowed away in a small bag—the portmanteau +had been discarded in Liverpool,—he +set out on his walk. The natural energy of +his character shone out strangely every now +and then, in spite of the disastrous education +which had so cramped it. No one meeting him +that day, as he walked briskly along the +Devonshire lanes, would have imagined that he was +as poor as the veriest tramp, and had infinitely +fewer resources than most beggars. His stern +face was lighted up with resolute perseverance, +there was a sparkle, not exactly of enjoyment, +but of keen determination, in his eye; he held +his head just as proudly as in the days when he +had been Donovan Farrant, Esq., of Oakdene +Manor. +</p> + +<p> +It was a lovely July day, a little hot for +walking certainly, especially in the deep lanes +where every breath of air seemed to be shut +out; but there was something satisfactory about +the whole excursion, and Donovan walked on +steadily. The high hedges were in their full +beauty—beautiful as only Devonshire hedges +can be, with their broad green fringes of +harts-tongues, their drooping lady ferns and sturdy +bracken, their glorious wild roses and bramble +bushes, with here and there a bit of mossy +grey stone cropping out, or a miniature +waterfall thrusting its silvery white head through +the grasses, and tumbling with splash and +splutter into the tiny wayside brook below. +The smell of the new-mown hay gave a country +fragrance to the air, and in most of the fields +the men and women were hard at work, while +wisps of sun-dried grass caught here and there +on each side of the road proved that loaded +waggons had already passed that way, leaving +their trophies on the hedges. +</p> + +<p> +Donovan had made up his mind to sleep at +Chagford, and it was already late when he +crossed Fingle Bridge. The view there was so +exquisite, however, that he was obliged to stop +for a few minutes; resting on the grey stone +parapet, he looked down at the transparently +clear river, along the green meadows and +wooded valleys to the hills which, encircling +all, stood out clearly defined against the soft +evening sky. All was quiet and peaceful; in +this country stillness and exquisite beauty, it +seemed possible almost to realise that once all +the world had been pronounced "very good." Donovan +thought only, however, of the contrast +of this peace with the world of competition, the +overcrowded market of labourers in which he +was trying to push his way. It was with a +sigh that he turned away and walked on to +the little grey town of Chagford, where the +lights were beginning to shine out from the +cottage windows, and the square tower of the +church stood darkly above the lower roofs, a +grim silent guardian. +</p> + +<p> +Very early the next day he was on his way +again, exulting in the fresh morning air, and +greatly looking forward to the crossing of the +moor. Waif scampered on in front, enjoying +the exercise as much as his master, and Donovan +found himself whistling as he walked. At +length, leaving the cultivated region behind +him, he struck across the wild waste of +Dartmoor, and then the full delights of his walk +came to him. The freshest, purest, strongest +air in England was blowing in his face, his feet +were treading a springy elastic soil, and all +around him was a scene of the wildest beauty. +The heather was not yet out, but the gorse +blossoms still lingered, and made a golden +glow over the great undulating expanse, while +all round the tors raised their rugged, granite +heads, now in full sunshine silvery white, now +with a passing cloud shadow darkest purple—grotesque, +fancifully shaped, irregular, and yet +exactly harmonizing with the barren waste +surrounding them. +</p> + +<p> +On sped the dog and his master, now through +marshy ground, springing from one tuft of +heather to another, now up across the scattered +granite blocks of a tor, and down again into a +fresh featured waste on the other side, now +startling a troop of the wild Dartmoor ponies +which galloped away, their manes flying in the +wind, and Waif barking at their heels, now +stepping across one of the old British encampments +with their imperishable "hut circles." +</p> + +<p> +It was not till about five in the afternoon +that he reached Prince Town, and then for the +time his pleasure was clouded, for the first sight +that greeted him was the great grey block of +buildings where poor Noir Frewin had been +unjustly immured. Passing some wretched +little black cottages which are familiarly known +as New London, he went down the hill to the +town itself, on the way encountering a gang of +convicts dragging a cart, and guarded by two +warders, rifle in hand. The sight was a painful +one, the men half patient, half sullen, looked at +him curiously and envyingly; the warders +urged them on. +</p> + +<p> +Donovan had half thought of sleeping at +Prince Town. He had been walking since +seven o'clock that morning, and was rather +tired, but the gloom of the place so oppressed +him that he could not endure the thought of +staying in it. He selected instead the +cheapest-looking public house from the large number +which the little place offered, had his dinner, +and after a short rest prepared to go on again. +The people of the house in vain tried to induce +him to stay. He was not to be turned from his +purpose, however, and having learnt that he +could put up for the night at the "Dousland +Barn Inn," if he went by the road, or at Sheepstor, +if he went by the moor, he resolved to take +the latter course. +</p> + +<p> +By this time it was between six and seven in +the evening, but he calculated that in even +ordinary walking he should reach his destination +before dusk, and with the bold outline of +Sheepstor before him as a landmark, he steered +his way across the waste. There was something +awe-inspiring in the entire loneliness as +he passed on further from Prince Town. Far +and near not a creature, not a house was to be +seen. Beauty, grandeur, even a faint shadow +of the Infinite, who can fail to trace these in +that glorious moor, unique in its wildness and +expanse? +</p> + +<p> +Involuntarily Donovan fell into a deep reverie. +The purer nobler view of the world forced +itself upon him; he had seen hitherto so little +but the evil. And then naturally his thoughts +went back to Dot, as they invariably did in his +best moments, and he comforted himself in that +terribly insufficient and yet pathetic way which +Byron has expressed in one of his saddest poems. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "The better days of life were ours;<br> + The worst can be but mine:<br> + The sun that cheers, the storm that lowers<br> + Shall never more be thine."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +He had been walking on abstractedly; looking +up at last, he was dismayed to find that a +sudden mist had arisen, completely veiling the +surrounding tors, and, what was worse, evidently +spreading every minute. Here was a hindrance +which he had never for a moment contemplated. +The evening had seemed perfectly +fine when he started; he had no compass, and +had trusted implicitly to his eye in choosing +the most direct route to Sheepstor. Now all +traces of the tors were entirely obliterated. +</p> + +<p> +It was not a very pleasant prospect. All +manner of stories he had heard of travellers +lost in the mist recurred to his memory; dismal +tales of people who had wandered round and +round in a circle for hours, never many yards +distant from their starting-point, or of unfortunate +pedestrians overcome by fatigue and cold. +He stood still for a minute or two, called Waif +to heel, and steadily faced the facts of the case. +The mist was rolling nearer and nearer, +hemming him in on every side; even now he could +hardly see a yard in front of him! Although +it was a July evening, the cold was enough to +make him shiver; the mist pressed down on +him impenetrably, every breath he drew brought +him into closer contact with the heavy, damp, +chill fog. Standing still was out of the +question; he resolved to go on. Sheepstor lay, he +thought, rather to his left, and as he had heard +that the natural instinct in walking was to tend +towards the right, he took a very decided +course in the opposite direction. +</p> + +<p> +On and on he went, ceaselessly but almost +hopelessly on. He was growing very tired, +too; the mist hung heavily upon him, he +could not see an inch before his feet. Fearing +that Waif might possibly stray, he had taken +him up under his arm, and was plodding heavily +along when he suddenly came to marshy +ground. For three or four steps he floundered +on, trying to regain the firm land, but what +might have been done with sight, was simply +impossible in the blinding mist. Another step, +and he felt himself sinking deeper; a fierce +struggle to free himself, and in a moment he +was up to his knees in one of the treacherous +Dartmoor bogs. +</p> + +<p> +He uttered no invectives, but, when perfectly +convinced of the hopelessness of struggling out, +he drew Waif's head up so that he could look +into the clear brown eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Waif, old boy," he said, "mother earth +means to settle the question for us. Do you +feel inclined to have done with your master, +your bones, and biscuits, and wanderings?" +</p> + +<p> +The dog, evidently understanding the danger, +set up a howl so wildly piteous that Donovan's +heart was touched. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor old fellow, you'd rather go on, would you?" +</p> + +<p> +And for a moment they looked full into each +other's eyes with the strange comprehension +that comes between some dogs and some +men. Then Waif licked his master's face, and +Donovan, all the time feeling that he was +gradually sinking deeper, patted the white and tan head. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, Waif, as you say we'll have a +try, take my hat, old boy," and he put his soft +cloth hat into the dog's mouth, "scrunch it up, +never mind! a hundred to one I shall never +want it again! find a man if you can and +bring him back here, do you understand? now +go. There!" and with some effort he threw +the dog as far from him as possible, and Waif, +alighting where his trifling weight might be +borne, tore off like the wind with the hat +between his teeth. +</p> + +<p> +In throwing the dog Donovan felt the soft +ground beneath him sink considerably, an +irresistible force sucked him down lower and +lower, very soon he was up to his waist in the +cold wet mud. Then he spread out both his +arms and waited quietly for the end—whichever +end it was to be. +</p> + +<p> +He felt strangely indifferent. If death did +come to him, why, then it would be well; if he +was rescued, there would be the satisfaction of +not being conquered by the affection of good +mother earth, who, having dealt rather coldly +with him all the days of his life, now seemed +determined to hold him in a clinging embrace. +</p> + +<p> +His jacket was not fastened, he could see +three buttons of his waistcoat. With a sort of +grim sense of the ludicrous he resolved to use +them as a measuring gauge, by which he could +judge how fast he was sinking. It was bitterly +cold down in this wet slush, on the whole he +rather looked forward to the end. What was +that odd recollection that came to him? He +was a little child again, and Doery's prim face +rose before him. +</p> + +<p> +"Asleep in church, Master Donovan! oh! for +shame! I wonder you wasn't afraid you'd +never open your eyes in this world again." +</p> + +<p> +And in spite of his strange position, even +now, he could not help laughing as he recalled +his childish sense of discomfort, and how for +several Sundays after that he had not been +able to let his eyelids drop in peace. +</p> + +<p> +The first button disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +Then he wandered on to recollections of his +life with the Frewins, how they would wonder +what had become of him! He was back in +Drury Lane with Sweepstakes abusing him. +He was in a railway carriage, and Noir was +waving the cards before his eyes in the three +card trick. He was sitting in the park and a +bright-faced girl near him was talking of home, +the sort of home which he had never been able +to realise. +</p> + +<p> +The second button disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +Then he felt a strange impression of having +been through this scene before, of having felt +the cold wall of mist hemming him in, and +after a time he remembered it had been in his +nightmare about Dot. And over and over the +words rang in his ears; +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "The better days of life were ours;<br> + The worst can be but mine."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"You are safe, Dot, my darling. ''Tis nothing +that I loved so well,' I would not have you +back even to the days that were ours. And +the worst may be over for me, Dot, ended here +out on Dartmoor!" +</p> + +<p> +The third button disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish I had not gone to that billiard-room," +he mused, "I wish I could have died +satisfied at least that my will was as strong as +I used to think it. To fail! how hateful it is +to fail! If I thought that I could get on, and +not come to grief again so weakly, I should +almost wish to get out of this bog and have +another try." +</p> + +<p> +The mist had now rolled away, but it was +almost dark and the stars were shining above +him. The night wind blew through his hair, +waved the cotton grass growing around him, +sighed and moaned over the desolate country. +Nature sang him her dreariest death-song. Ah, +well! death could not be more dreary than his +life had been! +</p> + +<p> +By this time he was up to his shoulders, and +was obliged to raise his arms, the grass and +rushes blew against his face. It was exceedingly +unlikely that Waif would find help. In +a very short time he must inevitably die. What +a strange ending to his stormy life! strange +and yet perhaps not inappropriate, to die here +alone in the darkness, as he had lived, the +grandeur and beauty and majesty of the +great moor close to him, all around, but shrouded +in the black night; faint imperfect images of +the beautiful tors presented to him now and +then, but never a true idea of their form. +</p> + +<p> +By-and-by came a light, flickering wavering +far in the distance. Was it a Will o' the wisp? +Could he hold out any longer? Could he keep +rigidly motionless till this possible help should +reach him? A sort of dogged endurance and +hatred of yielding came to renew his failing +powers, his voice clear and strong rang out +into the night. Yet why did he call? why did +he not yield, and sink down quietly into +nothingness? For an instant life and death, the +chances of each, hung in a perfectly even +balance, and his indifference turned to a decided +wish for the end of the struggle. Should he +call again? he thought not. But just as he +was making his final resolution to keep the +silence which would inevitably lead to death, +he heard Waif's sharp anxious bark from afar. +</p> + +<p> +"My dog, I won't be such a selfish brute," he +exclaimed, realising Waif's faithful devotion, +and thinking of his despair if the search should +be of no use. "Ho! here! help!" and then, +with his usual whistle, he tried to attract the dog's notice. +</p> + +<p> +In a few minutes Waif was close to him, +whining with delight, snorting with impatience, +and tearing madly backwards and forwards +between the approaching lantern and his +submerged master. Then the bearer of the lantern +came into view, a sturdy Devonshire farmer, +and his almost equally sturdy son. Donovan +hailed them eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +"Veth!" exclaimed the farmer, "stogg'd in +Foxtor Mire that ye are!" +</p> + +<p> +"Set fast here for hours," said Donovan. +</p> + +<p> +"No tauny bye! (<i>don't tell me!</i>)" exclaimed +the good man, much shocked. "But we'd best +talk when the deed's dune. The missus she +says to me, 'maister, you take the laistest bit +o' rope with ye, likely it's a bog accident.' So +lay ye hold, my man, fast hold o' the end, and +veth! we'll sune have ye safe and dry. Hold +on, my man, and sure as my name's John Peek +we'll have ye safe." +</p> + +<p> +Then, with a tremendous effort, the sturdy +Devonshire men pulled at the rope till Donovan's +shoulders were free once more. After that they +hastily threw a noose round him, and with +infinite difficulty succeeded at length in +dragging him from his slimy grave. +</p> + +<p> +In a few minutes Donovan, encrusted in black +mud, and so stiff and weary that he could +hardly drag himself along, was safely on terra +firma once more, and Waif, proud and happy, +was springing about his feet. +</p> + +<p> +Partly from physical causes, and partly from +his sudden removal from the near contemplation +of death, he fell into a half dreamy state, was +not sure whether the sturdy farmer and his son +were not after all shadows, even doubted +whether Waif was not an illusion, while every +weary step he took seemed to add to his +strange indifference as to what was to become +of him. If left to himself he would have +plodded on and on till he dropped. +</p> + +<p> +But John Peek was at his elbow—he was too +muddy to be touched—piloting him across the +moor in the direction of the farm, talking in his +half unintelligible Devonshire dialect, and at +length leading him through the yard gate, +across the roughly-paved granite road to the +little white farm house where he lived. At the +sound of their footsteps the wife hastened out, +a comely Devonshire woman, her short skirt, +crossed neckerchief, smooth hair, and healthy-looking +face, all as fresh and neat as could be. +The husband explained matters, and Donovan +was hurried into the kitchen, where, what with +the warmth of the peat fire, the contrast +between his horrible state of filth and the +exquisite cleanliness of the place, added to the +extreme difficulty of understanding the dialect +of the farmer and his wife, he gradually came +to himself, realised that he was actually alive, +that his surroundings were no shadowy phantoms +of the imagination, that he was still Donovan +Farrant, possessed of little but a dog and +a will which had failed, and with a blank future +beyond, in which his primary object must +be—not to starve. +</p> + +<p> +In the immediate present, however, his only +wish was to be clean once more, and with some +difficulty he made himself understood. +Evidently the farmer's wife thought cleanliness +next to godliness, and fully sympathised with +the desire. +</p> + +<p> +"Zich a jakes (<i>such a mess</i>) as never was seen, +fit to make my flesh crip, ess fay it is! Come ye +up, zur, come ye up over the stairs," and the +good woman led the way up the spotless +staircase to a room above, where, with much ado, +she brought a huge wooden washing tub, hot +water, an enormous piece of soap, even a +scrubbing-brush, crowning all her favours by +fetching him an entire set of her husband's clothes! +</p> + +<p> +Cincinnatus handled the plough, and doubtless +wore the equivalent for fustian. History does not +relate how he looked in rustic guise, but Donovan, +with his "Roman" face and unmistakeable air +of refinement, presented a very comical appearance +in Farmer Peek's marketing costume. But +the comfort of being dry and clean again was +great, and he joined the farmer and his family +in the kitchen, feeling able to speak the thanks +for his rescue which till now had remained +unsaid. +</p> + +<p> +"And now zet down, zur, zet down, for ye +hike mortal vagg'd," said the farmer, drawing +up one of the Windsor chairs to the hearth. +"Likely ye had a gude walk before ye got +stogg'd i' the mire?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, from Chagford," said Donovan, stretching +his feet out to the smouldering peats. +</p> + +<p> +"No, tanny bye! on the trat the whole blessed +day!" exclaimed the wife, "and ye hike crewel +tender." +</p> + +<p> +He laughed and disclaimed any "tenderness." +</p> + +<p> +"Zich walks isn't for the likes of ye," said +the farmer, with a shrewd look at the wearer of +his market-day suit; "ye should lave it to us +pewer folk—it's not for gintry and passons." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan could not help smiling at finding +himself classed with parsons. +</p> + +<p> +"I am poor," he said—"a tramp." +</p> + +<p> +"Aw!" exclaimed the farmer, shaking his +head with a knowing smile, "ye won't make +us belave that, zur—no, no, us knows the gintry +when we zee 'em." +</p> + +<p> +"In spite of which, I am poor and a tramp," +said Donovan; "and what few things I had +left went down into Foxtor Mire." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, gude heaven!" exclaimed the wife, "it +was a mercy ye didn't go yurself; but what will +ye plase to take for zupper, zur? there's cream +i' the dairy, and——" +</p> + +<p> +"Whatever you would have for yourselves, +nothing else," said Donovan. +</p> + +<p> +The woman hesitated; he spoke as if he +meant to be obeyed, but her hospitable soul +longed to set the best things in the house +before the hero of the evening. +</p> + +<p> +"Veth, zur, it's not fitty for zich as ye," she +began, but Donovan interrupted her. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing else, thank you," and his tone, +more than the actual words, convinced the good +woman that nothing but the usual supper must +be prepared. +</p> + +<p> +So Donovan sat down with the farmer and +his wife to broth and "kettle-bread," and then, +at his own request, was allowed to establish +himself for the night before the fire; for, in +spite of the summer evening, he had been so +thoroughly chilled that he was glad of the +warmth. +</p> + +<p> +Before long all was quiet in the house; +Donovan, with Waif at his feet, lay very still +but very much awake in the little kitchen. +By this time all might have been over for +him—how strange was the thought! He might +have entered on the "peace of nothingness;" +life might have been over, perplexities solved +by the great silence, no trace of him left even, +to carry sorrow to his mother or remorse to +Ellis; and instead of this, he was still in the +world, lying on his back moralising by the light +of a peat fire! +</p> + +<p> +It was a curious accident which had brought +him like this under a hospitable roof; he had +been in many odd places, but never in quite +such a homely place as this. Half dreamily he +let his eyes wander round the white-washed +walls; opposite him was the tall eight-day +clock, and a large copper warming-pan reflecting +the dull red glow of the fire; above the +high mantelshelf two rather ancient-looking +guns, and a great array of tin pots and platters; +below, a spotless white dimity frill hanging +over the wide hearth; overhead, in the +black rafters, hung sundry hams. +</p> + +<p> +His own clothes were hanging up to dry as +near the peats as the farmer's wife would allow, +and glancing from them to the borrowed garments +he wore, and for the first time realising +that Farmer Peek was at least six inches shorter +and immeasurably stouter than himself, that +the fustian clothes hung about him in folds, and +that his whole appearance was most utterly +grotesque, he burst out laughing—laughed till +the wooden rafters rang, till Waif started up +and began to wag his tail sympathetically, till +inevitably he would have roused the farmer and +his wife, had they not slept as soundly as the +Seven Sleepers. Certainly the personal danger +he had been in had not awed him as a moralist +might have desired; he went to sleep with +nothing more sober in his thoughts than a +verse out of Dot's "Nonsense Book"— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "There was an old man of the West<br> + Who wore a pale plum-coloured vest;<br> + When they asked—does it fit?<br> + He replied, not a bit,<br> + That funny old man of the West."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +The next morning came the rather humiliating +necessity of explaining to the farmer his +utter inability to reward him for his rescue and +his hospitality. He was received, however, +with all the delightful warm-heartedness and +real courtesy so general in the west country. +</p> + +<p> +"Aw! zur, ye didn't think a wanted money! +It's treu us a given ye the laistest bit of a help, +but God bless ye, zur, us has been plased to +du it." +</p> + +<p> +"When I get on in the world, I shall not +forget you, Mr. Peek," said Donovan, with firm +confidence in the "when." "All I can do now +is to thank you very much for your hospitality." +</p> + +<p> +"Veth, zur, you're welcome. Us wull be plased +to zee ye again, and I wish ye weel in zaking +zarvice." +</p> + +<p> +"Seeking service!" Donovan smiled, but +the expression was true enough. He wished +his worthy host good-bye, managed to leave +his last coin—half-a-crown—in the market-day +coat, and set off briskly on his fourteen mile +walk to Plymouth. +</p> + +<p> +Skirting round the foot of Sheepstor, he was +soon on the road, with the bold outlines of +Sharpitor and Leathertor on one hand, and far +in the distance a line of silvery brightness +where the sunlight fell on the sea. Life felt +good. On the whole, he felt really glad that +the blue vault was above him, not the black +mud of the bog. Towards the afternoon, +however, when he had been walking some hours, +his spirits sank. The heat tried him a good +deal; he began to feel very stiff and tired, as +well he might after his adventure of the +previous evening. And with the physical exhaustion +came a degree less of confidence in the +future. What if his father's acquaintance, +Mr. X——, refused to help him? What if he could +find no employment now? He walked on +heavily, but still with resolution—come ill or +well, he was ready to face it manfully, but his +cheerfulness disappeared, and it was a +stern-faced and very oddly-dressed candidate who +presented himself at the door of the bank, and +asked to see Mr. X——, the manager. +</p> + +<p> +The bank was closed, but one of the clerks +appeared in answer to his ring, and directed +him to the manager's private house. He went +there, and, with the bearing of a proud man +forced to ask a favour, was shown into +Mr. X——'s library. +</p> + +<p> +A handsome keen-faced gentleman of about +five and thirty was sitting at the table writing. +He glanced up as Donovan was announced, +scanned him from head to foot without rising, +then bowed stiffly. This was Donovan's view. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. X——, on the other hand, saw before +him a tall, gaunt, handsome fellow, apparently +about five and twenty, in clothes which were +stained and shrunk to such a degree that a +tramp would scarcely have said "thank you" +for them, holding a ragged cloth hat in his +band, and in spite of his beggarly array, carrying +his head very high. Such a shabby-looking +fellow as this could hardly be asked to sit +down on one of Mr. X——'s new red-morocco +chairs. The good farmer's wife had carefully +dusted the Windsor chair for him the night +before, the banker was not so courteous or so +well-bred. Throughout the interview Donovan +stood. +</p> + +<p> +The banker briefly asked his business. It +appeared that the elder Mr. X—— had died two +years before; the present one had never heard of +Colonel Farrant. And then, after a few mutual +explanations, Mr. X——'s rather quick peremptory +manner became a little more suave as he +said, +</p> + +<p> +"You must, I think, see, Mr. Farrant, that +your claims upon me are of the very slightest. +Our respective fathers knew each other—at +least, you tell me so. Even should I take you +at your word without seeking to prove this to +be the fact, however, it is hardly sufficient +ground for—in short, you understand me, I am +sure. I need not explain myself further." +</p> + +<p> +"I understand perfectly," said Donovan, +coldly. "You think I am come to beg. I am quite +aware that I look like a beggar, thanks to one +of your Devonshire bogs; but nothing is further +from my thoughts. You were the only person +I knew in the neighbourhood. I want work, +and thought you might be able to advise me +where to try for it." +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid, Mr. Farrant, you are a novice +in these matters," said the banker. "One +cannot at a moment's notice cause situations to +spring up ready to hand; besides, in the letter +I received from you from Exeter, you gave me +no particulars and no references." +</p> + +<p> +"I have none to give," said Donovan, shortly. +</p> + +<p> +"You can at least tell me what your previous +employment has been." +</p> + +<p> +"I have only just returned from the Continent." +</p> + +<p> +The banker looked at him a little curiously. +</p> + +<p> +"And before that?" +</p> + +<p> +Donovan coloured slightly, but answered, firmly, +</p> + +<p> +"Before that I was a card-sharper." +</p> + +<p> +The banker started. +</p> + +<p> +"Bless me! and after this you expect me to +patronise you, Mr. Farrant?" +</p> + +<p> +"On the contrary," said Donovan, quietly, +"I see plainly that that is the last thing you +will do." +</p> + +<p> +There was irony in the tone; the banker +smiled a little, looked again at his strange +visitor, and saw that, in spite of the beggarly +array, he was evidently a clever fellow. He +liked clever fellows, and his next remark +sounded much more cordial; but Donovan's +sensitive pride at once recoiled from the slight +touch of vulgarity. +</p> + +<p> +"I see you're sharp enough, Mr. Farrant, no +lack of brains; but even if I knew of any situation +likely to suit you, what guarantee should I +have that you might not prove a little too sharp +again?" +</p> + +<p> +"No guarantee," said Donovan, wincing. +"But I should hardly have answered your +question with such perfect openness, if I had +been the knave you take me for. I can give +you no guarantee but my honour." +</p> + +<p> +"And in business that would hardly answer," +said Mr. X——, with a sharp-edged smile; +"besides, the honour of an ex——" +</p> + +<p> +"Good afternoon," said Donovan, moving to +the door. +</p> + +<p> +"Stay, stay," said the banker; "that was +rather hard lines. I can't help you to a +situation, Mr. Farrant, but you seem in a very bad +way, and as I see you're a clever fellow I will +break through my ordinary rule. Day and +Martin made their fortunes by giving away a +stray sovereign, and, though I can hardly hope +to do that, I have still great pleasure in giving +you some small assistance." +</p> + +<p> +He fumbled in his pocket, produced a gold +coin, and pressed it into his visitor's hand. +</p> + +<p> +There are some deeds of so-called "charity" +which wound more deeply than actual unkindness, +some favours which are more hard to +endure than blows, some ways of giving so +utterly intolerable to the recipient that even in +need they must be rejected. +</p> + +<p> +Donovan was actually penniless, he felt stiff, +weary, ill, and already very hungry, but no +power on earth could have brought him to +accept the banker's tactless, ill-bred offer. He +put down the sovereign, bowed, and hurried +out of the house. +</p> + +<p> +For a time indignation and those heart-stirrings +which follow after an insult has been +received kept him up; he tramped up and down +the Hoe physically strong again because of the +inward tumult of feeling. Then he wandered +into the town, lounged wearily about the streets, +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + "Homeless near a thousand homes,"<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +and worse than homeless, utterly destitute in +every way, sick at heart, ashamed of his past, +miserable in the present, and hopeless as to the +future. +</p> + +<p> +When St. Andrew's clock struck nine, he was +standing at the corner of the churchyard idly +watching the passers-by, wishing that night +d come that he might hide himself in the +darkness and forget his weariness in sleep. +But as time passed he grew more and more +uneasy, and the dread of illness began to haunt +him painfully; he had certainly eaten nothing +since early morning, but that was not sufficient +to account for the growing faintness which was +stealing over him. He had had a dim idea of +enlisting, but that faded away now, he was too +wretched to wish for anything but shelter for +the night, precisely the thing he had not. +</p> + +<p> +There were only three alternatives, either he +must break his resolution again and trust to his +customary skill and good fortune, or he must +try to sell Waif, or he must adopt the beggar's +shelter—an arch or a doorway. +</p> + +<p> +A sharp struggle was needed to dismiss the +first idea, the merest glance at the dog to prove +the second impossible; then in pain and great +weariness he wandered on once more. Only a +month or two before he had had more money +than he knew what to do with—it was strange +to look back to the old life, with its excitement +and success, and self-indulgence—and now, +through his own doing, he was utterly cut off +from it all. But he knew that it was well, and +in a larger sense than before the words which +had haunted him on Dartmoor came to him now, +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + "The worst can be but mine."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Failure, pain, ruin, starvation, all these were +apparently his destiny; he felt that they were +endurable because they involved no harm to +others; it had been a choice of life and pleasure +at the expense of his honour and his fellow-men, +and death and suffering affecting himself +alone. His contact with the world had changed +his views greatly; a year ago he had been a +misanthrope, now he saw the position of self +and others inverted. +</p> + +<p> +More than four years had gone by since the +grave-looking Indian colonel and his son had +passed up the steps of the Royal Hotel. Donovan, +fresh from his school disgrace, full of hurt +pride and bitter resentment of the injustice, had +spent no very comfortable night there. +Unlikely as it may seem, he slept a great deal +better beneath the porch of one of the +neighbouring houses than he had done before in the +luxurious room. With Waif crouched up as +near him as possible for the sake of warmth, +with the cold night wind blowing on him, he +slept well; in the old times he had been his own +slave, now he was "lord of himself." Disheartened, +humbled, with widened sympathies +and self thrust low, he was now, in spite of the +verdict of the president, a truer follower of +Christ than some professing Christians, the +only difference being that he followed bravely +and painfully in the darkness, not even knowing +his goal, while many of them in their full light +follow sleepily and lazily, attaining to little of +the broad-hearted love and self-abnegation to +which they have pledged themselves. +</p> + +<p> +Donovan did not dream, he was too +completely worn out; his sleep was heavy and +unbroken; but he woke early the next morning +with a name in his mind—Porthkerran. What +brought it there he could not tell. In thinking +over his acquaintance in the West at Exeter, he +had naturally remembered the Tremains; but it +seemed utterly improbable that a doctor in a +remote Cornish village would be able to help +him to work, and he had never thought even of +applying to him. But now, in the freshness of +the July day, as he dragged himself up from +his resting-place, and felt the utter impossibility +of seeking work in his present state, the +thought of Porthkerran, of the kindly doctor, +of Mrs. Tremain, came to him as a light in his +darkness. He was at that stage of illness +when pride—even the pride of independence—is +brought low, and though he had rejected the +banker's sovereign but a few hours before, the +idea of going to the Tremains and asking their +help did not seem hard to him. +</p> + +<p> +The only question was, should he ever get +there? To loiter about in Plymouth in search +of work would be both useless and impossible; +but with an actual goal, a definite thing to be +done, it was different. He made up his mind +to go, and set off on the long walk patiently +and deliberately, though anyone with a degree +less of courage and resolution would have +succumbed at once. +</p> + +<p> +When he had walked about five or six miles +the full difficulties of his undertaking came to +him. On first waking he had felt ill indeed, +but the sleep had to some extent refreshed him, +and it was not till later in the morning that the +unknown pains of hunger beset him. Still he +toiled on, always on, with aching head and +failing limbs, while above the summer sun +blazed down on him in fullest power. What if +the Tremains were no longer at Porthkerran? +What if they turned him away because of his +previous life, or his religious views? These +were his only thoughts as he struggled on. +By-and-by came faintness, and he was obliged +to stagger to the side of the road and lie +down on the grass, and then he lost count of +time, and was very dimly aware that the +intolerable heat and glare changed to cloudy +coolness; it was not till a heavy shower of rain +began that he came fully to himself, staggered +to his feet once more, and resumed his walk. +</p> + +<p> +For more than an hour the rain fell ceaselessly; +when it stopped, he was soaked to the +skin and very cold; even when the sun came +out once more he was shivering from head to +foot. How much farther could he manage? A +sign-post, with "Porthkerran three miles," rather +comforted him; he must and would get there, +and once more be forced himself to go forward. +</p> + +<p> +The road lay now along the cliffs overlooking +the deep blue sea. Donovan scarcely noticed +anything, however, and it was not till the +ringing clang of metal fell upon his ear that he +looked up. By the side of the road was a +blacksmith's forge; the blazing fire looked +tempting; he entered the shed, and asked leave +to warm himself. +</p> + +<p> +The smith, a fine-looking man, with thick +black hair tinged with grey, and eyes of deep +blue like the Cornish seas, turned round quickly +on hearing himself addressed. +</p> + +<p> +"Come in, friend, and welcome." +</p> + +<p> +The voice was a hearty one, but the smith +was busy, and turned to his hammer and anvil +once more, while Donovan drew near to the +fire, and felt a little temporary relief from the +warmth. +</p> + +<p> +Presently wheels were heard, and a carriage +stopped at the door; the smith put down his +hammer and stepped briskly forward. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, doctor—gude day to you—cast his +shue, has he?" +</p> + +<p> +Donovan heard the words distinctly, but they +conveyed no meaning to his mind; he stared +down vacantly into the glowing furnace, not +even turning his head to see either the horse or +the driver. A man's voice was explaining. +</p> + +<p> +"Half a mile back, Trevethan. How long +will you take to put him on a fresh one? I'm +in a hurry to be at Mr. Penruddock's." +</p> + +<p> +"Slow and sure, doctor—not less nor a +quarter hour, and maybe more." +</p> + +<p> +"Why don't you walk to the Penruddocks', +papa? I can hold Star, and Ajax is so quiet +there'll be no fear of his doing any harm." +</p> + +<p> +It was a girl's mellow voice speaking—a +voice in which there lurked laughter, tenderness, +and yet a quaint sort of dignity. Donovan +recognised it in a moment, and with a +sudden return of strength and energy hurried +to the door. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER VIII. +<br><br> +ONE AND ALL. +</h2> + +<p class="intro"> + Deal meekly, gently, with the hopes that guide<br> + The lowliest brother straying from thy side;<br> + If right, they bid thee tremble for thine own,<br> + If wrong, the verdict is for God alone.<br> + * * * * * * * * *<br> + Strive with the wanderer from the better path,<br> + Bearing thy message meekly, not in wrath;<br> + Weep for the frail that err, the weak that fall,<br> + Have thine own faith, but hope and pray for all.<br> + OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +One glance at the little group without told +him everything. There was the smith +scrutinizing Star's shoeless foot; standing +beside the other pony was Dr. Tremain himself, +a little greyer than he had been four years ago, +but not much altered; and in the pony-carriage +sat Donovan's ideal, whom he knew now to be +Miss Tremain—Gladys Tremain—for the unusual +name recurred to his memory with the +thought of the evening when he had first seen +her in her own home, had heard her singing +words which had moved him strangely. +</p> + +<p> +With this sudden revelation, all thought of +his present state of need passed from his mind; +he only felt that he must do something for her, +and with a word to the smith he went to +Star's head. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! that'll du, doctor; now ye can go up +to Squire Penruddock's; here's a chap as'll hold +the pony steady." +</p> + +<p> +Instinctively Donovan kept his face turned +from Dr. Tremain; he could not bear to risk +being recognised just then. The doctor saw +only a tall figure in very shabby clothes—some +friend of Trevethan's, he supposed; he merely +glanced at him, told Gladys to drive on to meet +him when the pony was shod, and walked away +in the direction from which Donovan had just come. +</p> + +<p> +The wind had risen, a west wind, and it blew +strongly, though not coldly. Donovan could +see the ribbons on Gladys' hat fluttering, +though, after the first, he did not directly look +at her, but kept his face half hidden. He could +hear her talking to Trevethan, and once or +twice some antic of Star's made her laugh. +She was evidently a favourite with the +blacksmith; Donovan could see how the man's blue +eyes lit up when she spoke to him. +</p> + +<p> +Gladys, meanwhile, looked curiously at the +motionless figure at Star's head. She had seen +him as he came out of the shed, but for such a +moment that she had only caught a sort of +vision of a very pale, worn face. Who could +he be? Some one whom Trevethan knew, or +merely a tramp? Yet his attire was scarcely +like a tramp's; shrunk, and stained, and dirty +as it was, it had a look of better days about it. +Who was he? She wished he had not been +quite so near, for it was impossible to ask the +blacksmith any questions about him. Ought +she to give him something for holding the +pony? Looking at him again, she was sure +that he was visibly shivering, and that decided +her. She opened her purse, and took out a +sixpence. He looked ill, and cold, and very +poor. He had been very good in holding Star; +assuredly he ought to have something. +</p> + +<p> +All this time she had only seen his back. +When the shoeing was finished, and Trevethan +had been paid, she drew up the reins, and rather +shyly said, "Thank you for your help," holding +out the coin to him as she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +Oddly, though she had been rather curious +to see his face, in putting the sixpence into his +hand she looked at that; then, startled to find +a smooth white palm instead of a hand +roughened by hard work, she looked up quickly and +saw a face which seemed partly familiar to her, +a face with chiselled features, and dark +cavernous eyes with a look of pain in them. But +even as she first glanced at him his lips smiled +slightly; he raised his hat. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! I beg your pardon. I did not see," +she stammered, looking at the slender fingers +which had closed over her sixpence, and +colouring crimson. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," he replied, in a tone which she +could not mistake for sarcasm. "I am very +much obliged to you." +</p> + +<p> +Then he raised his hat again, and turned +away; and Gladys drove off with hot cheeks. +Where had she seen him before? +</p> + +<p> +Donovan went back to the forge, partly for +the sake of warming himself, partly in the hope +of learning something about the Tremains. The +blacksmith was busy, however, and he could +only elicit the information that "that was their +doctor up to Porthkerran, and a rale gude one +he was;" that "Miss Gladys did gude to everyone +she spoke to, and was like a bit of God's +sunshine, and no mistake," with a few other +most patent and obvious facts. Then, all the +time swinging his great hammer, Trevethan +began singing one of Wesley's hymns, and before +he had come to the end, the pony-carriage +passed the door once more. +</p> + +<p> +"Will the doctor be going home now?" asked +Donovan, as soon as he could make himself +heard. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, belike," said the blacksmith, pausing in +his work, and looking at his companion. "You'd +du weel, friend, to go and see him, for you look +mortal vagg'd. If you're passin' this way again, +come and take your tae with me. You shall +have a gude welcome." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," said Donovan, touched by the +off-hand yet real hospitality. +</p> + +<p> +Then Trevethan having directed him to the +doctor's house, which he already knew well +enough, he set off once more. +</p> + +<p> +Before he had gone far, a turn in the road +brought him in sight of the Tremains' +pony-carriage. It was standing still. Drawing nearer, +he saw Gladys standing, bare-headed, on the +verge of the cliff, her sunny hair blowing about +in the wind. She seemed to be searching for +something. Dr. Tremain, holding the reins at +arm's length, was also peering down. +</p> + +<p> +"Better give it up, my dear," Donovan heard +him say. "We couldn't reach it, even if we +could see it." +</p> + +<p> +"Can I be of any use?" asked Donovan, +coming towards the two. "Is anything lost?" +</p> + +<p> +"My hat," said Gladys, turning round, but +colouring as she saw who the speaker was. +</p> + +<p> +Donovan's quick eyes were soon scanning +every nook and cranny of the rugged cliff, and, +after a minute's steady progress up and down, +he detected far below a tiny moving speck, +which he pronounced to be an end of ribbon. +</p> + +<p> +"Will you allow me to fetch it for you?" he +asked, forgetting his weakness and weariness +in his desire to serve her. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! no, it is so far down," she said, quickly. +"It is not the least worth while." +</p> + +<p> +But Donovan was not to be deterred from +the errand by its difficulty, and disregarding +Dr. Tremain's remonstrances, he began to +clamber down the cliff in a way which showed +that he was either well used to the Cornish +coast, or else an expert gymnast. +</p> + +<p> +"He held Star just now at the forge," said +Gladys to her father. "And I am sure I have +seen him before, papa. Who can he be?" +</p> + +<p> +The doctor was too intent on watching the +descent, however, to answer, and when he did +speak it was only to exclaim, +</p> + +<p> +"Well done! he's got it." And then to +criticise his way of setting about the ascent. +"Quite right, he means to keep to the left, and +skirt round that great boulder; bravo! that +was cleverly managed. Come, Gladys, after +this you'll have to make a speech. It's really +very good of this young fellow. Hullo! though, +he's slipped." +</p> + +<p> +For Donovan had trusted to an insecure +foothold, and had slipped down about six feet. +Gladys gave a little cry, but happily a projecting +boulder prevented any danger of a serious +fall, and the two watchers saw that at least +their helper was in no immediate peril. He +was quite still, though; that began to frighten +them. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you hurt?" shouted the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +But no answer came, and the figure still +remained crouched up in the same position. +Dr. Tremain felt very uneasy, but in two or three +minutes Gladys gave a relieved exclamation. +</p> + +<p> +"See, papa, he moves, he is getting up again." +</p> + +<p> +They could see the tall figure struggling up, +indeed, but the doctor saw at once that +something was wrong. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you hurt?" he shouted once more. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," came back the answer, "but I'll +manage it in a minute." +</p> + +<p> +He had fallen with his ankle twisted under +him, and had given it a sprain; it was indeed +a very awkward situation, for the cliff was steep +and hard to climb, and now, with the acute +pain he was suffering, it seemed almost impossible; +he looked at the little white hat hanging +on his arm, and he looked up the grey cliff to +Gladys. After all it only needed patience and +a resolute disregard of the pain—he would try +it. But it was infinitely harder than he +expected, over and over again he turned dizzy, +and was obliged to pause, and at last each step +became a perfect battle. He could not attempt +to answer the questions which reached him +from above, every power was strained to its +utmost in the physical struggle, in the conflict +between the resolutely persevering "I will," +and the overwhelming pain and weakness and +difficulty. +</p> + +<p> +At length, with an almost superhuman effort, +he dragged himself up to the top, grasped the +doctor's outstretched hands, crawled on to the +smooth grassy plateau bordering the cliff, and, +without a word, sank down prone, while Waif, +with low whines, walked round and round him +in great distress. Large drops of perspiration +stood on his forehead, yet his face expressed +little but hard fixed resoluteness, the iron will +leaving its tokens even in semi-consciousness. +The doctor looked at him intently fora moment, +then he raised him so that his head rested on +Gladys' knee, and prepared to examine his +ankle. The merest touch caused a sharp thrill +of pain, and Donovan opened his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! I am so very, very sorry," said poor +Gladys. "I am afraid you have hurt yourself dreadfully." +</p> + +<p> +"Only a sprain, I think," he answered, faintly, +and then his eyes closed again. +</p> + +<p> +"We must get him home as soon as possible," +said the doctor. "I will bring up the pony-carriage +as near as may be, and I think, Gladys, +you had better run back to the forge and ask +Trevethan to come and help. We shall be less +likely to pain him if there are two of us to lift +him in." +</p> + +<p> +The doctor went to see to the pony-chaise, +and Gladys was just going to obey him, when +she was startled by a peremptory, "No, don't +go," from the prostrate figure she was +supporting. Then, to her dismay, he slowly raised +himself and staggered towards the carriage. +</p> + +<p> +"You should not have tried it," remonstrated +the doctor, helping him in, and making him put +up his foot at once on the opposite seat. "Now, +Gladys, jump in quickly and drive us home. I +shall sit here," and he established himself beside +the injured ankle, holding it in a way which +lessened the jar of the wheels. +</p> + +<p> +The last exertion had proved too much even +for Donovan's strength, however; he was only +dimly conscious now, just realising from the +pain that he was being driven somewhere, +where he neither knew nor cared, or whether +this half dream of incessant motion and +incessant pain went on for ever and ever. All +seemed a matter of supreme indifference. When +the carriage at last stopped he felt no curiosity +as to what was to follow, and, after a few +minutes' pause, submitted without a word to +being lifted out and borne somewhere, never +once raising his eyelids to see what they were +doing with him. Presently he became aware +that his boot was being cut, and then came an +instant's sharp pain, and he fainted. +</p> + +<p> +Everyone who has experienced it knows the +extreme discomfort of a return to consciousness. +Donovan came to quickly, however, +partly aided by an odd association. The very +first thing he distinguished was the smell of +brandy, then he felt a glass held to his lips. +From sheer annoyance he gained strength to +push it away, and in weak, but decidedly cross +tones, said quickly, +</p> + +<p> +"Get away with your abomination, Rouge; I +tell you I won't touch it!" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't trouble him, he's coming to," said +the doctor, and then Donovan, fully roused +by the words, half raised himself and looked +round. +</p> + +<p> +"I beg your pardon," he said to the doctor, +"I thought I was with some one else." +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid I hurt you a good deal just +now; I ought to have seen you were getting +faint and given you a restorative first," said +Dr. Tremain. +</p> + +<p> +"Faint!" cried Donovan, with all a man's +dislike of making a scene. "You don't mean +that I fainted." +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, the moment I touched your +foot," said the doctor, smiling; "and, what is +more, you will be fainting again before long if +you don't take something. Try this," and he +poured some milk into a tumbler and held it to +his lips. +</p> + +<p> +Donovan drank it and revived a little. +</p> + +<p> +"It was not the pain," he said, abruptly, "I +was half starved." Then glancing round the +room, he continued in an odd, forced voice, +"You shouldn't have brought me to your house; +is there no workhouse or hospital at Porthkerran?" +</p> + +<p> +"You shall consider this your hospital; I can +promise you at least one resident doctor and +several nurses," said Dr. Tremain, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't laugh," said Donovan, "it is no +laughing matter; I haven't a farthing in the +world, I'm worse off than most beggars; couldn't +you have seen by these that I wasn't fit for you +to take in," and he touched his clothes. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear fellow, do you think that makes +any difference, or that we show our hospitality +in Cornwall by shipping off our helpers to the +workhouse? Come, don't talk nonsense, but +tell me when you had your last meal." +</p> + +<p> +"Yesterday morning between eight and nine." +</p> + +<p> +"Whew!" the doctor gave a slight whistle, +felt his patient's pulse again, and, turning to +the servant, gave orders for some gruel to be +made at once. When that had been +administered, Donovan sank into a sort of doze. +Presently he knew that a fresh voice was +speaking, a low, pleasant voice. He came to +that borderland of sleep when words begin to +convey some meaning, the quiet mist-wreathed +entrance to full consciousness. +</p> + +<p> +"Has he got everything he wants?" +</p> + +<p> +"Everything just now; he is simply worn +out. Gladys has told you how we met him, I +suppose." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, everything. I wish I had been at home +when you came back. Is it a very bad sprain?" +</p> + +<p> +"I daresay it wasn't at first, but imagine +climbing up the cliff near the forge after he'd +done it! There's good in that fellow, depend +upon it; it was a spirited thing to do, especially +in the state he was in. He owned he was +half starved." +</p> + +<p> +"Poor boy! I wonder how he happened to +be in such straits." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan began to show signs of waking; +the voices ceased, but he felt a soft hand putting +back the hair from his forehead; it reminded +him of the feel of little Dot's tiny fingers, +and then, with a rush of shame, he felt how +unfit he was for such tenderness. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly opening his eyes, and half sitting +up, he said, quickly, +</p> + +<p> +"Look, you must get me moved in some way, +I'm not fit to stay here." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Tremain thought him feverish; but the +doctor partly understood him. +</p> + +<p> +"He is afraid of giving trouble; you must +tell him there is nothing you like better than +nursing." +</p> + +<p> +"No," interrupted Donovan, "that is not it; +listen to me, and then, if you will—turn me +out; you won't be the first who has done so. I +was once a card-sharper. I haven't a penny in +the world. I am an atheist. Was I wrong +in saying you would be wiser if you turned me +out of doors?" +</p> + +<p> +"Quite wrong," said the doctor, in an odd, +quiet voice. +</p> + +<p> +Then there was silence for a few minutes, and +Donovan felt the soft woman's hand on his +hair once more. For a moment he breathed +hard, and there was a quiver in his voice when +he said at last, +</p> + +<p> +"I had given up expecting to be tolerated +after that confession. I don't know why you +are so different from other people. I might have +guessed, though, that you would be. +Mrs. Tremain," he looked steadily up at her, "do +you remember me?" +</p> + +<p> +She gazed at him in perplexity, half +remembering the face, and yet utterly unable to +say where she had seen it. He raised his hand +and pushed back the dark waves of hair from +his forehead, revealing a long, white seam, the +ineffaceable mark of his old wound. And with +the sight there flashed back into Mrs. Tremain's +mind a vision of the past. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Farrant!" she exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +"Donovan Farrant—yes." +</p> + +<p> +The doctor stood with an expression of surprise +and great uneasiness on his face. If this +were Donovan Farrant, how came it that he +was a penniless adventurer? How came it +that little more than a year after reaching +majority he had come to Porthkerran in a state +of semi-starvation? There must have been +foul play somewhere. That will he had +witnessed could not have been properly executed, +or such a state of things could not have been. +This evening, though, he must ask no questions, +his patient was not fit for it. So he put +away the uncomfortable thoughts as well as he +could, and, coming forward, took Donovan's +hand in his. +</p> + +<p> +"I remember you very well now. I wonder +I did not at first; but you are a good deal +changed. We have often thought of you, and +wondered whether you would ever come down +to see Porthkerran again. I was glad to have +you before I knew your name, and, knowing +it, I am doubly glad. But now, as your +doctor, I must forbid any more talking. Some +more food first, and then you'd better settle in +for the night." +</p> + +<p> +"One thing more," said Donovan, "do you +realise that there are two of us?" and he pointed +to Waif. "He's all I have in the world. I +can't part with him." +</p> + +<p> +"Not even last night when you were starving?" +</p> + +<p> +Donovan shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps, though, I ought not to ask you +to take him in, beggars can't be choosers." +</p> + +<p> +"My dear fellow," said the doctor, laughing, +and patting the dog's head, "will you never +learn to believe that we are not utter brutes. +Of course, the dog is welcome to spend the rest +of his life here. I must quote the Cornish +motto to you—'One and all.'" +</p> + +<p> +With these words echoing in his ears, Donovan +lay watching the busy preparations for the +night which were being made by Mrs. Tremain +and the servant. The room he had been +carried to was on the ground floor, a schoolroom, +he fancied, but now busy hands were +converting it into a bed-room, and busy feet +without were hurrying up and down the stairs, +and along the passages, fetching and carrying. +"One and all"—they were certainly carrying +out their motto! And Donovan, who would +have been sorely chafed by having to submit to +a grudging service, watched his present nurses +almost with pleasure. The comfort, too, of +being in a home-like room again was very +great. He ran through in his mind all the +wretched places he had slept in, from the room +in Drury Lane to his last night's shelter under +a porch. Philosophically as he had endured +them, it was, nevertheless, an unspeakable +comfort to be again where all was fresh and +clean, a relief, too, to be not in a mere living +place, but a home. He read the titles of the +books in the bookshelf, then glanced round the +walls, half fearing to see once more his old +enemy, the dingy oil-painting of the shipwreck. +Instead, however, he found Wilkie's "Blind +Man's Buff," next to that an elaborate chart of +the kings of England, with illuminated shields +and devices, which, no doubt, had been painted +by Gladys; then a print of a "Holy Family," by +Raphael, and lastly, just opposite him, Ary +Scheffer's "Christ the Consoler." +</p> + +<p> +He looked at this long and earnestly, struck +by the great beauty of the idea it embodied, +and, through the wakeful feverish night which +followed, the vision of the face of Christ and +the thought of the Cornish motto haunted him +incessantly. +</p> + +<p> +The next day, the doctor not being at all +satisfied with his patient's state, and being +besides anxious to learn the reasons of his +poverty, induced him to speak of his past +life. +</p> + +<p> +"You are not nearly so strong-looking as +when I saw you last," he began, drawing a +chair up to the bedside. "Tell me what you +have been doing with yourself, and then +perhaps I shall understand your case better." +</p> + +<p> +"It was four years ago that I saw you," +replied Donovan. "It's likely enough I should +be changed since then. Do you want the whole +story?" +</p> + +<p> +"As much as you feel inclined to tell," said +Dr. Tremain. "Both as your friend and as +your doctor I shall be glad to hear. After you +left Porthkerran, you went to your home in +Mountshire, I believe?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Donovan, twisting a corner of +the sheet as he spoke. "We went back +to Oakdene, and after about two years my +mother married again—she married the man +who was my guardian, Ellis Farrant. He came +to my father's funeral. I daresay you remember +him." +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Tremain tried not to show his dismay at +this piece of news, and Donovan continued. +</p> + +<p> +"He had always hated me, and there were +constant quarrels between us; the final one +would have come sooner if it had not been for +my little sister. Partly for her sake I tried to +behave decently to him. She died the winter +before last. For a little while my step-father +left me in peace, but directly I proposed +entering some profession he told me I must expect +nothing from him. That of course led to a +quarrel, and in the end I was turned out upon +the world to get on as best I could." +</p> + +<p> +"But your father's will?" questioned Dr. Tremain, +trying to speak quietly. +</p> + +<p> +"He left all to my mother, unconditionally, +and of course she could do nothing for me, even +if she wished to." +</p> + +<p> +The doctor sighed deeply, and there was a +very troubled look on his face as he glanced at +his patient. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor fellow! you have been hardly used. +Where did you go?" +</p> + +<p> +"To London; but not one of our old friends +would have a word to say to me, and I could +get nothing to do. At last I fell in with a man +named—well, never mind his name; he has +been a good friend to me, even though he is a +professional gambler. I went into partnership +with him; it was impossible to live honestly, +and I thought the other way would be bearable +enough, for I was crazy at the injustice I had +suffered, and hated everyone. But it didn't do. +I found after a time I couldn't stand it. And +then I went in for congestion of the lungs, that +was last January. As soon as might be, I went +abroad, but at Monaco had a relapse, which +kept me back for another month. A little later, +I found that I must break with my old friends +and give up the sort of life I'd been living. I +came back to England, and tried hard to find +work, and by living cheaply, managed to spin +out my money for a little while. I very nearly +got a place as secretary at Exeter, but the man +asked me point-blank what religious views I +held, and that settled the question. I'd scarcely +anything left then, but I made up my mind to +come to Plymouth, and walked across Dartmoor. +There I almost came to grief in a bog—it's +a thousand pities I didn't quite—but Waif +and a good Devonshire man hauled me out. +The next day I came on to Plymouth, without +a farthing, as I told you, and yesterday morning, +being ill, either from the hours I spent in +the bog, or from the unusual bed of stones, I +felt only fit to crawl on to Porthkerran, hoping +that you might help me." +</p> + +<p> +It was evidently a relief to him when he had +finished his story, and the doctor, who had been +pleased with his brief straightforward confession +on the previous night, was glad that he +still kept to the mere outline of his life. He +never alluded to those personal thoughts and +details which go to make up the interest of any +life-story, never attempted to excuse himself in +any way, but, with some effort, just stated the +main facts. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Tremain sat in silence for a few minutes. +That Donovan had been cruelly wronged, he +knew, and the mere fact of that would have +given him a special claim upon his love and +sympathy. But the thought of his life, his +rebuffs, his temptations, his fall, his efforts to do +right, appealed even more strongly to the +doctor's heart. "I found I must give up the life +I'd been living." What struggles, what absolute +sacrifice lay within that one sentence! +</p> + +<p> +While he was musing over what he had +heard, Donovan watched him silently. Already +the very deepest love for this man had sprung +up in his heart—a strange, dependent love, +which he had never before known—the love +which, latent in all hearts, is usually awakened +by the first true thought of God. A God-like +deed, and the love shining in a man, had now +touched into life this natural instinct, and +Donovan, in his pain and humiliation, was yet all +aglow with the strange new joy of devotion, +enthusiasm, reverent admiration, the echo of +the love first given. +</p> + +<p> +The prolonged silence would have been hard +to bear, if he had not had the most entire yet +inexplicable faith in his new friend; but as it +was he waited in perfect content. Presently +the doctor looked up with great gladness in his +face. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know I'm very glad you told me +you were coming to us." +</p> + +<p> +"Why?" asked Donovan, a little surprised +that this should be the only comment on his story. +</p> + +<p> +"Because it shows that you've pluck enough +to do what I fancy was very disagreeable to +your pride." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know," said Donovan. "I suppose +it was partly being so done up, but I didn't +think about minding the asking a favour. I +only felt need of you, and dread that I should +never be able to get to Porthkerran." +</p> + +<p> +"I can't imagine how you ever did get here," +said the doctor, who knew that the walk would +have been simply impossible to most people +under the same circumstances. "I'm afraid +you've been very rash in your self-management +for some time past, and that is the reason you +are suffering so much from your exposure. +After two such illnesses as you described to +me, a man needs some care for the next few +months, at least. Did you take any care of +yourself, or—mind, I only ask as a doctor—did +you stay on at Monaco, ruining your health by +excitement at the casino?" +</p> + +<p> +"I only went to Monte Carlo once," replied +Donovan, "and that before the relapse. Don't +think it was any self-denial on my part; it was +simply because I lost the first time, and because +I hated the other evils of a gambling place. +For the rest I was quiet enough. Since I came +to England, of course, I have lost ground." +</p> + +<p> +"You have taken no care of yourself," said the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +"Life isn't worth much extra fuss," said +Donovan; "and besides, I was too poor. Short +commons, no work, and intolerable dulness do +pull a fellow down." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, yes; you must have felt dull when you +gave up gaming," said the doctor, rather +wishing to draw him out. +</p> + +<p> +"Very," was the laconic answer. Then, as if +remembering that he had no ordinary listener, +he added—"It's only since then that I've had +the least idea how weak one's will is. It +certainly is humbling to find that after you've +resolved to do a thing it needs a constant struggle +not to give in after all." +</p> + +<p> +"What made you first think of giving it up?" +asked the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +And Donovan then gave him an account of +the miserable day in Paris, when M. Berrogain +disappeared, and gradually Dr. Tremain realised +how matters stood with his guest. +</p> + +<p> +He came out of Donovan's room understanding +him far better, yet feeling much more than +he had yet done the great anxiety of his own +position. This comparative stranger had +peculiar claims upon him; he had been aware of +that directly he had heard his name, but now, +having heard the story of his life, he could not +but feel what care and tenderness and wisdom +were needed in dealing with such a character. +Undoubtedly this great self-renunciation was a +turning-point in Donovan's life, this awakening +thought for others a sure sign of growth; what +if by any ill-judged word or deed of his he +should be thrown back or discouraged? The +doctor was the most humble of men; greatly +as he longed to help his guest, he trembled at +the immense responsibility and difficulty, and +grieved over his own unfitness for the task. +For what was not required of him? Donovan +was friendless—he must be his friend; cheated +of his inheritance—he must, if possible, right +him; burning with the sense of injustice—he +must try to influence and soften him; and—most +terrible thought of all—he believed in no +God; some one must—— The doctor paused—nay, +what? teach him—impossible! Argue +with him?—probably useless; love him, pray, +agonise for him—that he must and would do. +The rest? +</p> + +<p> +He was standing by the open door which led +from the house into the garden; he saw the +grand old cedar at the end of the lawn, standing +up darkly against the clear sky, the acacia +and the beech-trees waving in the wind, the +standard roses laden with flowers, the glorious +sunshine flooding all with warmth and brightness. +He heard the singing of birds, the low +hum of insects, the soft breathing of the summer +wind among the branches. A sense of breadth +and fulness stole over him, it was a healthful +morning, and gradually Dr. Tremain felt its +real influence, it drew him away from the +thought of weakness and soul-disease to the +true health-giver. Could he doubt that through +all the changes and chances of Donovan's life +He had been leading him? Then that strange +and sudden impulse to walk to Porthkerran +must have been part of the leading. The doctor +accepted the responsibility gladly now, as a +care doubtless, but as an honour and a joy. +And as the free air and light and warmth +influenced him from without, feeling that he +lacked wisdom, he turned to Him who "giveth +to all men liberally." +</p> + +<p> +While he still stood in the doorway Gladys +came to him, her usually bright face a little +clouded. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! I thought you had started on your +rounds, papa," she exclaimed, brightening at +once as she slipped her hand within his arm. +"I've come to you in a very bad temper, for +Aunt Margaret is here, and she is so much +surprised at your taking in Mr. Farrant." +</p> + +<p> +"Why is she surprised?" asked the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +"Because you know so little of him. She +thinks it most quixotic of you. I came away +at last, she made me so cross." +</p> + +<p> +"You and I believe in something better than +chance, don't we, Gladys?" said the doctor. +"And if Donovan Farrant was sent to us, as I +do not doubt he was, our duty is to take care +that we are fit to keep him with us." +</p> + +<p> +"Fit?" asked Gladys, looking puzzled. +</p> + +<p> +"Gentle and patient and considerate enough +to draw him quite in amongst us, to make him +part of the home. I will tell you a little about +him, and then you'll understand me better. +He has had a very sad life, he doesn't believe +in God, partly, I can't help thinking, because he +has never come across real Christianity. He +has had great temptations, and no friends to +help him, only companions whom at last he +felt obliged to leave, that he might try to keep +out of evil, and now he is here, ill and poor +and I'm afraid very miserable. I know quite +well that people will say, as Mrs. Causton has +just been saying, that it is rash and quixotic to +take him into one's own home, but, Gladys, I +trust all of you too well not to look upon you +as helps instead of hindrances." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know, papa, I have seen Mr. Farrant +before," said Gladys, when her father paused. +"I was sure I knew his face, and last night I +remembered it was when I was staying with +Aunt Margaret a year ago; don't you recollect +that journey which auntie is always talking +about, when we were in a carriage with some +men playing cards?" +</p> + +<p> +"I remember. There was only room for you, +and one of them got out and gave his place to +Mrs. Causton." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that was Mr. Farrant." +</p> + +<p> +The doctor mused. In his worst times, then, +Donovan had kept a touch of chivalry, he had +left his favourite pastime to save a stranger +from a slight annoyance. +</p> + +<p> +"We knew directly he was a gentleman," +continued Gladys. "You can't think how +different he looked from the men he was with. I +couldn't think why he belonged to them, and +one specially spoke so horridly to him at London +Bridge, when we all got out, I fancy because +he had helped us. Why was he ever with such people, papa?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because no one else would have anything +to do with him, and because he was a great +card-player; he has given it all up now." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! I am so glad!" exclaimed Gladys, +"for it was dreadful to watch him playing that +day, he looked so wonderfully taken up with it, +as if it were the only thing he cared for. It +must have been very hard to him to give it up, +though." +</p> + +<p> +"Harder, most likely, than you or I have +any idea of," said the doctor, musingly. Then, +rousing himself, "And all this time we are +leaving the mother to Mrs. Causton's tender +mercies. I must go, little girl, good-bye. That +story has smoothed your temper, I hope." +</p> + +<p> +Gladys laughed, and ran away to give Jackie +his morning lessons, while Dr. Tremain made +his way to the breakfast-room. +</p> + +<p> +He was not sorry to find Mrs. Causton on the +point of leaving, but unfortunately his appearance +on the scene caused a repetition of all her arguments. +</p> + +<p> +"And do you really think it wise to take him +in and let him mix with your own children—a +perfect stranger, a man of whom you know +nothing but evil?" +</p> + +<p> +"On the contrary," replied the doctor, half +inclined to lose his temper, "I know a great +deal of good about him." +</p> + +<p> +"But it seems so unnecessary," urged +Mrs. Causton; "no one in his circumstances could +object to being taken to a hospital; and when +he comes out, there are plenty of societies which +would gladly take him in hand. There are so +many societies for young men, you know." +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Mrs. Causton"—the doctor spoke +almost fiercely—"what the poor fellow wants +is a <i>home</i>, not a society; he wants to be treated +as a son, not as a case. I don't mean that +societies are not useful enough sometimes, but +I do think we are too ready to shunt on to them +all that is not easy, self-indulgent, conventional +charity. Look at the good Samaritan now—himself, +by the way, an infidel and outcast—<i>he</i> +did things all round; no passing on to committees +and societies there, no holding at arm's +length lest the poor fellow should stain his +garments. He put himself to some +inconvenience—perhaps to some risk, and gave the +wounded man his own beast." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course no one disputes that the parable +is a great example," said Mrs. Causton, "an +example that we should all copy; but still in +this case——" +</p> + +<p> +"You would have me enact the priest and +Levite," interposed the doctor, "or pass on to +some blundering committee for probing and +examining and questioning a man who can +scarcely bear to be touched. I know quite well +that you would have most of the world on your +side, for the good Samaritan style of giving is +out of fashion now; we like to ride on in state +and fling subscriptions here and there. We +don't like the trouble or risk of actually +dismounting and walking on foot; it isn't political +economy." +</p> + +<p> +"You may be right," said Mrs. Causton, half +convinced; "and yet, for the sake of Gladys +specially, is it wise and prudent? I don't want +to seem intrusive, but one cannot help seeing +that there are very grave objections to such an +intimacy for her." +</p> + +<p> +No one spoke for some minutes. This view +of the matter had certainly not occurred to +Dr. Tremain, and he was bound to own that there +was some truth in it. Was he putting his child +into a wrong position? And yet could he, for +the sake of a distant and merely possible +contingency, give up his guest? His perplexity +did not last long; he was not worldly-wise, he +was not prudent, and, in defiance of the possible +ill, he held closely to the present good, trusting +to God, and feeling perfect confidence in Gladys. +He had, moreover, with the strange insight of +humility, learnt enough of Donovan's real self +to trust in him too; the banker had exclaimed +at the honour of an ex-card-sharper, the doctor +felt inexplicable yet entire confidence in the +truth of his patient. +</p> + +<p> +"Some risk and trouble and difficulty I owned +to in the Samaritan's giving," he said at last. +"I do not think it a risk which one ought to +shrink from. Were you ever in the Cluny +Museum, Mrs. Causton?" +</p> + +<p> +"Never." +</p> + +<p> +"I remember two very striking representations +there of Prudence with her hands tied, +and Charity with open arms." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Causton, not caring to discuss the +question any more, soon took leave. The doctor +was glad to be alone with his wife. +</p> + +<p> +"You have not changed your mind?" he +asked. "You are willing to be the open-armed Charity?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," she replied, quietly, "I am willing." But +there was some effort in her voice, for she +thought of the possible sorrow which this charity +might bring to Gladys. +</p> + +<p> +"Then, having made up our minds, let us +live in the present, and put away from us this +idea, which I am half sorry has been suggested +at all," said the doctor. "No one will put any +nonsense into Gladys' head, and the friendship +of a good sensible girl will be a capital thing for Donovan." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Tremain looked up at her husband and smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"How soon you have taken that poor boy +into your heart of hearts! Oh! Tom, how far I +am behind you; a dozen selfish considerations +have come into my head in the last five minutes. +I'm afraid I've little but pity for him." +</p> + +<p> +"Then, dear, go and spend an hour in his +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER IX. +<br><br> +IN A HOME. +</h2> + +<p class="intro"> +It is human character or developed humanity ... that +conducts us to our notion of the Character Divine... In +proportion as the mysteries of man's goodness unfold themselves +to us, in that proportion do we obtain an insight into +God's. +</p> + +<p class="intro"> +<i>Essay on Blanco White</i>. J. D. MOZLEY. +</p> + +<p class="intro"> + But the love slid into my soul like light.<br> + <i>Olrig Grange</i>. WALTER C. SMITH.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Donovan looked up with a smile of welcome +as Mrs. Tremain came into the room. +He had been in too much pain to notice her +much when she had visited him earlier in the +morning, but now he was comparatively at +ease, and was lying in listless quiet with Waif +on the bed beside him licking his hand. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Tremain was not fond of dogs; she was +even a little afraid of them, and she had a very +natural feminine dislike to seeing a fox terrier +lying on a clean counterpane. Donovan divined +this at once. +</p> + +<p> +"He oughtn't to be up here, I know," he +began, deprecatingly, "but I can't keep him +down, poor fellow! he's always miserable when +I'm ill, and the worst of it is he won't obey +orders, but thinks it his turn to be master." +</p> + +<p> +"Poor dog!" said Mrs. Tremain, softening +towards the offender and venturing to pat him. +"He does seem very unhappy about you; it's +really wonderful the amount of expression +which a dog can put into his face." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Waif and I can talk together quite +easily; I don't know what I should have done +without him, specially when I was laid up; he +was often the only nurse I had." +</p> + +<p> +Then a question of Mrs. Tremain's led to an +account of his wretched winter, to a discussion +of illness in general, to an amusing, though to +Mrs. Tremain a somewhat sad description of his +various nurses, including poor old Mrs. Doery, +both in her character of guardian of the sick +and instructor of youth. +</p> + +<p> +"I have not been used to your kind of +nursing," he added, after a pause; "you must +remember that, and not let me take up your +time; I am afraid this dependence will unfit me +for the tussle with the world which I must go +back to as soon as my ankle is all right." +</p> + +<p> +"You can hardly help being dependent when +you can't move," said Mrs. Tremain, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +"No, but it's a training in patience to be +helpless and to submit to being muddled, +whereas to lie still and be spoilt, humoured, +waited on, and amused must surely be demoralising, +too pleasant and unusual to fit one for +another plunge into the prickles of life." +</p> + +<p> +"Only that life, however hard, can't be all +prickles," said Mrs. Tremain. "Don't you think +a little spoiling, as you call it, is everyone's due +at one time or another? From your own +account you have had to 'rough it' a good +deal, and this perhaps is your time for trying +dependence without all the discomforts you +now associate with it. Besides, I daresay you +have had your share of waiting on other people, +and know that it is the pleasantest work in the +world." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan's face changed, and for some minutes +he did not speak. Mrs. Tremain saw that her +words must have called up some painful +remembrance, and Waif too understood perfectly, for +he sprang up with his peculiar low whine and +began to lick his master's face. What could it +be? What painful chord had she unknowingly +touched? +</p> + +<p> +A violent start from Donovan caused Waif to +jump down from the pillow, and Mrs. Tremain +to return from her musing. +</p> + +<p> +"What is it?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +"I fancied I heard a little child's voice," he +said, rather faintly. +</p> + +<p> +"I expect it is Nesta; she is playing in the +garden," said Mrs. Tremain. +</p> + +<p> +He did not answer for some minutes, but lay +with closed eyes and a strangely rigid face, the +only movement being in the hand Waif was +licking, which was clenched and unclenched +convulsively. At last, shifting his position a +little, he looked up again and said, hurriedly, +</p> + +<p> +"Will you let me see her? I am very fond +of children." +</p> + +<p> +His voice more than anything told of the +severe struggle he had passed through, but, +though Mrs. Tremain doubted whether he were +fit for it, she did not like to refuse his request. +She went to the French window and called the +little girl from the lawn. +</p> + +<p> +Four-year-old Nesta came trotting in gleefully, +her little rosy face shaded by a white +sun hat, her pinafore full of daisies. +</p> + +<p> +"This is your youngest nurse," said +Mrs. Tremain, leading her up to the bed. +</p> + +<p> +Nesta looked half timidly at the invalid +visitor whom she had heard of; but the moment +she caught sight of Waif, all her shyness +vanished, and she fairly clapped her hands. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! mother, mother, what a dear little dog! +Is he doin' to stay?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, he has come for a long visit," said +Mrs. Tremain, lifting her up to the pillow beside +Donovan at his special request. Waif allowed +himself to be patted and caressed, and played +at "trust and paid for" obediently, but he was +too low-spirited about his master to show himself +off well, and soon crept away from the little +girl to the other side of the bed, where he lay +with his sad brown eyes fixed on the invalid. +</p> + +<p> +Then Nesta turned her attention to the new +visitor, her shyness speedily passing off. +</p> + +<p> +"How drave you look!" she exclaimed, after +scrutinizing his face for a minute or two. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Tremain and Donovan both laughed, +and then the daisies tumbled out of the pinafore, +and Nesta, being reminded by the sight of +them of daisy-chains which were to have been +made, set to work busily, chattering in her +quaint unrestrained way meanwhile. +</p> + +<p> +Donovan had won her heart—as he invariably +did win the hearts of little children—and the +daisy-chain which was to have been for the +favourite doll was now destined for him. +</p> + +<p> +"It will look very pretty, you know, on your +white night-down," she said, with her irresistible +baby laugh. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, with a puzzled face, came one of +her abrupt questions. +</p> + +<p> +"What's 'ou name?" +</p> + +<p> +But Donovan did not hear, for he was looking +abstractedly at her bright eyes, trying to +see in them some likeness to Dot. And they +were a little like, for, although grey, they were +in a transition state, and there was a peculiar +shade of brown in the iris which somehow made +them like Dot's clear hazel. Moreover, they +had in them the same innocence, and even in a +slight degree the same look of heaven-taught love. +</p> + +<p> +She repeated her question imperatively. +</p> + +<p> +"What's 'ou name?" +</p> + +<p> +He came back to the present with an effort, +and answered, gravely, but gently, +</p> + +<p> +"You must call me Dono." +</p> + +<p> +Nesta softly repeated the unusual name, +lingering over it half doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +"Don—o, Mr. Dono." +</p> + +<p> +It was the first time he had heard his childname +since little Dot's death. He caught Nesta +in his arms and kissed her passionately. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! oh! oh!" shrieked Nesta, thinking it +the beginning of a game. "The drate bear's +dot me; he's doin' to eat me." +</p> + +<p> +"Not too noisy, my little girl," said +Mrs. Tremain, lifting her away. Then, noticing the +deathly paleness of Donovan's face, she hastened +to add, "I think Mr. Dono has had enough +of you to-day. Mother will take you into the garden." +</p> + +<p> +"Dood-bye, Mr. Dono, dood-bye," said Nesta, +as she was carried off: but he did not answer. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Tremain was a few minutes out of the +room; when she came back she found Waif in +great distress, for what had come to his master +he did not know. Donovan had buried his +face in the pillow, and, almost for the first time +in his life, was crying like a child. +</p> + +<p> +Four years ago Mrs. Tremain had had all her +sympathy called out for the reserved +undemonstrative stranger whom she had visited +in his bereavement; love and tact had given +her power then, they gave her power now. She +listened as only a mother could have listened to +the story of little Dot, gently drawing Donovan +on by her perfect sympathy, until there was +little that she did not know of those past times. +How it all began, how it was possible for her to +win him to speak the name that for months had +not passed his lips, cannot be written or +explained here. But those who have known a +real mother will understand at once, and those +who deem it impossible must be "Donovans" +themselves, to whom sooner or later like +sympathy will be given if it is needed. +</p> + +<p> +And yet, in spite of Mrs. Tremain's present +feelings, she had at first not been without a +certain shrinking from Donovan—from close +knowledge of a professed atheist. Away from +him this shrinking had increased. It was not +until she was brought face to face with his +individuality, till he was essentially Donovan to +her, not merely a strange visitor, that it was +possible for love to take its right place. But +her husband's prophecy was true, and before +the day was over she had quite taken the +invalid guest into her mother's heart, and only +loved him better for his poverty of soul and body. +</p> + +<p> +Class judgment, sweeping condemnation, are +for the world,—its ways of dealing with its +outcasts; and though the ways are neither good +for condemners nor condemned, they will +probably last through this age. But there are a +few people who are bold enough to defy the +world's opinion, and to set at naught the world's +ways, because they have the way of Christ +ever before them, because they love the +ignorant and sinning first, and by reason of that +love hate only the ignorance and sin that have +led them astray. +</p> + +<p> +Even gentle and loving Mrs. Tremain had +hitherto gone with the world in thinking of +atheists as a class to be shunned and avoided, +rather than as so many members of the great +human brotherhood who had fallen into a grievous +mistake, and to whom all possible justice, +and love, and brotherliness must be shown. +Mrs. Causton, good as she was, still failed to +see the need of this. +</p> + +<p> +"If a man voluntarily cuts himself off from +religion, how is it possible to treat him as a +brother?" she argued. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Tremain, being but newly persuaded +herself of the possibility, did not answer, but +looked to her husband. +</p> + +<p> +And the doctor answered in his quiet way: +</p> + +<p> +"I never could see the difficulty of that; for +the Fatherhood of God seems to me to answer +it all. Universal fatherhood causes universal +brotherhood, and the one is as really unalterable +as the other. That we do not see it to be +so is surely our own fault. As a rule, though, +it is only those who believe that God ever 'gives +up' souls, who treat men as outcasts. They +are quite logical in doing so. But, once believe +that 'lost' means 'not found yet,' that the +Good Shepherd seeks the sheep 'until He finds +it,' that the Fatherhood is for ever and ever—and +then the fact that your brother is mistaken +will only make you love him, and try to show +your love to him the more." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Causton was silent, for Dr. Tremain had +touched on a subject upon which they had long +ago agreed to differ. She knew she was one of +the "logical" people, and yet, in her heart, she +half inclined to the doctor's loving breadth. She +also began to revolve in her mind schemes for +"converting" the stranger. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, apart from all discussions, and +shielded from Mrs. Causton's well-meaning but +somewhat mistaken schemes by his continued +imprisonment, Donovan spent the most peaceful +week of his life. There was something +indescribably restful in the atmosphere of +Trenant, a refinement about the daily small-talk, +an entire absence of that perpetual sitting in +judgment on neighbours and acquaintances, +which goes far to make the conversation in +many families, a peculiar quickness and readiness +to perceive humour, and a perfect understanding +of that delicious family teazing which +is certainly the salt of home life. Though +prevented by his invalidism from coming into the +very centre of all this, Donovan yet felt much +of it in his sick-room. Of Gladys he saw little, +but Mrs. Tremain was constantly with him. +Jackie and Nesta were always ready to enliven +him when he grew dull, and the doctor gave +him all his spare time, bringing his microscope, +or his fossils for arranging and sorting, or any +of his hundred and one naturalist hobbies, and +turning the sick-room into something between +a museum and an untidy workshop. +</p> + +<p> +Donovan's love deepened day by day, he +could have lain in contented silence for hours, just +watching the doctor at his work, and though +they generally had plenty of animated talk +together, it was no necessity to him. The +delight of knowing any man whom he could +absolutely and unreservedly trust was in itself +absorbing, and there was much besides. +Mrs. Tremain, whom he admired and loved scarcely +less, and to whom he talked more, influenced +him in a way quite as much as her husband. +Having once spoken to her of Dot, he now +continually returned to the subject, for he felt +there was not the danger in thinking of the +past that there had once been, and daring to +let it all come back to him, he was able to +realise that memory is indeed a priceless +possession. Then, too, in this week there came to +him, almost for the first time, a flickering shadow +of doubt in one of his most positive convictions. +He had looked on Christianity as a creed which +could not be connected with any practical +kindliness of life; it had seemed to him merely a +sort of <i>sauve qui peut</i>. Now at Trenant there +was none of the conventional religion to which +he was only too well accustomed, but he found +himself constantly reminded, in the small concerns +of daily life, of that historical Christ for +whose character he had conceived the greatest +admiration. Little or nothing was <i>said</i>, but +Donovan felt that he was in a perfectly new +atmosphere. Whether these Tremains were +living under a delusion, of course he could not +say; he did not wish even to think just now. +</p> + +<p> +Strange, dreamy, delicious days! often +afterwards in the heat and struggle of life he looked +back to them, and always associated with them +in his mind were snatches of "In Memoriam," +which, in spite of his assurances of an utterly +unpoetical temperament, Mrs. Tremain read to +him. He had spoken quite truly, there were +very few poems which could touch him, but +the "living poem" of childhood, and this one +great song of immortality, took possession of +his very being. The thin green volume was +always near his bed—he soon knew most of it +by heart. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, Dr. Tremain, seeing that his +patient grew stronger in body and evidently +happier in mind, began to dread more and +more the broaching of that distasteful subject +which was constantly in his thoughts. He +was of course, however, too wise and too true a +friend to put it off long; and at the end of the +week, when his patient was well enough to be +moved to a sofa and be wheeled into the +breakfast-room, he made an opportunity for the +private talk which must reveal to Donovan all +his step-father's treachery. +</p> + +<p> +The sofa had been placed by the open +window, and Donovan was enjoying, as only an +invalid can enjoy, the delights of a thorough +change; his face was particularly bright and +contented when Dr. Tremain came in from his +afternoon visits in Porthkerran, with his mind +made up to his disagreeable task; it was +therefore all the harder to speak, but the +doctor knew he had no right to delay any longer, +and sitting down near his guest he began with +but little preamble. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you up to a business talk this afternoon? +If so, I want to speak to you about a +matter which has been troubling me very much +for the last week—since the night you came, +in fact." +</p> + +<p> +"A talk about your business, I suppose," said +Donovan, "for I, as I told you, am simply +penniless, so my affairs don't admit of much +discussion." +</p> + +<p> +"You are mistaken," said the doctor. "You +ought not to be penniless, and it is solely with +regard to your affairs that I have been so +troubled. I should have spoken to you before, but +I waited till you were stronger." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan looked perplexed; the doctor continued: +</p> + +<p> +"You told me the other day that your +father's will left everything, unconditionally, +to your mother, did you not?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, or else I could not be in my +present straits." +</p> + +<p> +"And you ought not to be," said the doctor, +unable to speak as quietly as he wished. +"Donovan, before Colonel Farrant's death he +made and I witnessed another will, by which +the property was left to you, your mother of +course being——" +</p> + +<p> +His sentence was never finished, for Donovan +started up, his face white and set, but with a +sort of fierce light about it. +</p> + +<p> +"What?" he gasped, "that villain destroyed +it, then! Tell me more—quickly—who +witnessed it? when was it made?—I recollect +nothing. Are you sure—<i>sure</i>?" +</p> + +<p> +"That it was legally correct, I am certain," +said the doctor; "but do try to quiet yourself +or I shall never be able to explain it to you." +</p> + +<p> +"I am quiet," said Donovan, lying back again +with a marble face. "Go on, please; only let +me hear all—and I'll not interrupt." +</p> + +<p> +"The afternoon your father died," resumed +the doctor, "I came, as you know, about three +o'clock to visit him. He was very much +worried, for Mr. Turner the lawyer, whom he +specially wished to see, was away, and he told +me that knowing his danger, that he might +really die at any minute, he was anxious to +make his will at once, so that all might be left +straight for you. He explained to me that his +former will had been made just after his +marriage, and that he thought it wiser to make a +fresh one. Of course worry was the very worst +thing for him, and, in order that he might be +at rest about it, I suggested that he should +make his own will temporarily, till a lawyer +was at hand, and that seemed to relieve him at +once. Do you remember that I came to the +head of the stairs and called you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Perfectly," replied Donovan, speaking with +difficulty. "You asked for a sheet of +writing-paper. I brought it to you." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, and on that paper, at Colonel Farrant's +direction, I wrote words to the effect that he +desired to bequeath all his property to you. +That an ample allowance—I cannot recall the +exact amount—was to be made to Mrs. Farrant, +and that Mr. Ellis Farrant was to be the sole +executor. I remember he hesitated some time +about that, and tried to think of some one else +who could also be executor; he said that the +second named in his former will had lately died. +Thinking it, however, only a temporary thing, +he left Mr. Ellis Farrant's name alone." +</p> + +<p> +"The witnesses?" asked Donovan. +</p> + +<p> +"Myself and a servant, Mary Pengelly, who +is dead." +</p> + +<p> +"Dead!" he exclaimed, a dark shade passing +over his face. "Then it's all up with me; the +will can't be proved." +</p> + +<p> +"I half fear not," said the doctor, "though it +seems not so impossible as I at first thought. +Directly I learnt your name and saw what must +have happened I wrote to a solicitor I know in +town, and gave him all the circumstances—of +course, without names. He allowed that a case +might be made for you—such a thing has been +done before now. Your recollection of having +fetched the sheet of paper might go for +something, but the cost of a lawsuit would be +enormous, and the result, of course, doubtful. I +blame myself very much now for not having +taken steps to see that the will was proved. A +year or two afterwards, when we were in town, +I did half think of it when I happened to pass +Somerset House; but some chance meeting +prevented me. If I had only had more insight! +But I never dreamt of suspecting treachery in +Mr. Farrant." +</p> + +<p> +"No, he is too bland, too clever, too +consummate a hypocrite!" replied Donovan, bitterly. +"No one suspects him. He took the will from +you, I suppose, and showed all proper feeling, +and none of his blackguardism." +</p> + +<p> +"I gave him the will directly after your +father's funeral. He took it quite unconcernedly; +I noticed nothing the least remarkable in +his manner. If only some one else had been +present! If only I'd had the sense to be more +cautious!" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't blame yourself," said Donovan, his +face softening at once. "That would be just +the one thing I couldn't bear. It was no +manner of fault of yours; if it had been, it +would be easy to put up with—I could endure +anything from you. But that traitor, that +villain, who all the time is looking as smug +and proper as can be, who gives my money to +chanties, who makes merry in my house, who +goes to church and calls himself a "miserable +sinner," and asks for mercy that he may go on +comfortably! How can you expect me to +think religion anything but a miserable sham, +the veriest farce?" +</p> + +<p> +There was a minute's silence when he paused, +and, before the doctor had ventured any answer +to this very natural outburst, the door opened, +and Gladys came in, her hands full of blush-roses +and seringa. +</p> + +<p> +"I have brought you some flowers," she said, +crossing the room to the sofa. "You must not +be cheated of your daily nosegay because you +are getting better." +</p> + +<p> +Nothing could have quieted Donovan so effectually +as this interruption; he watched in silence +while Gladys arranged the flowers. Very pure +and fresh and flower-like she looked herself; +she fascinated him utterly. +</p> + +<p> +When she left the room again he was the +first to speak. +</p> + +<p> +"Forgive me for what I said just now," he +began, looking at the doctor with the light of +indignation in his eyes softened down to +sadness. "I was very wrong to mock at the +religion you believe in. This last week you have +almost made me think there may, after all, be +such a thing as Christianity, I believe for you, +at any rate, there is such a thing. But the +thought of Ellis Farrant made me mad! You +must remember it is only that kind of religion I +have met with till now—that Injustice and +loathing and discourtesy are, with scarcely an +exception, all that I've received from religious people." +</p> + +<p> +"God forgive them!" exclaimed the doctor. +Then, after a pause, "But what I can't +understand is the systematic way in which +Mr. Farrant must have managed everything. A +sudden act of passion I can understand, but +deliberately to plan and calculate another's ruin——" +</p> + +<p> +Donovan's face suddenly crimsoned. +</p> + +<p> +"Stop!" he cried. "Don't say you can't +have pity on such meanness. Remember what +I used to be!" +</p> + +<p> +"Your circumstances go far to excuse you," +were the words which trembled on the doctor's +lips, but he wisely kept them back, and did not +break in upon the perfectly natural and right +shame by any speech. Instead he just put his +strong, firm hand on Donovan's. +</p> + +<p> +After a long silence Donovan looked up once +more. He seemed to have mastered the +situation now, all indignation and agitation of +manner had left him, and Dr. Tremain was +struck by the sense and coolness with which he +spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"The next thing to be thought of is, what +can we do? A lawsuit seems out of the question, +but I don't think that for that reason I +need sit still and do nothing to right myself. +Shall I send a letter to Ellis Farrant, and just +tell him that I have learnt all from you?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think, if you don't object," said the doctor, +"it would be much better for me to go to +Oakdene Manor and see Mr. Farrant. A letter can +be simply ignored, but if I can once see him I +shall at least get some definite answer from +him. Will you consent to that?" +</p> + +<p> +"It would of course be the best chance for +me," said Donovan. "Only I can't endure that +you should have the trouble and annoyance." +</p> + +<p> +"You think it is all like a game of 'neighbour, +I'm come to torment you,'" replied the +doctor, laughing. "You having come to me, +and I being on my way to Mr. Ellis Farrant!" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I've given you nothing but trouble +yet," said Donovan. "And this horrid business +will hinder you and take you away from home." +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Donovan," said the doctor, still +laughing, "you are so exceedingly unlikely +ever to be a busybody that I'll venture to give +you this maxim, 'Thy business is mine, and +mine thine, if there's the ghost of a chance that +we can either of us help the other.' Besides, +have I not told you that we don't allow units +in Cornwall? We're a joint-stock company, +and as long as you are here you must put up +with all the seeming eccentricities of the 'one +and all' system." +</p> + +<p> +The doctor being pretty free that week, it +was arranged that he should go to Greyshot +the following day, in the hope of getting an +interview with Ellis Farrant. As soon as all +was settled he left the room to speak to his +wife, and to make arrangements for his absence, +while Donovan lay in what seemed almost strange calmness. +</p> + +<p> +He had learnt that the Manor was his by +right, that there was but a small chance of his +getting it; he had also learnt that his +step-father's injustice had been far greater than he +had hitherto imagined; but then the repentance +for his own past was growing more real and +strong each day, and his belief in goodness and +purity and love was struggling into life—his +patience was perhaps, after all, not so strange! +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of this home, with its love, and +peace, and breadth of sympathy, his frozen +heart was expanding. That very afternoon he +had taken the first step towards forgiveness, he +had placed himself on a level with his +step-father, had not shrunk from admitting that +he too had offended in much the same way. +And strong in his possession of love—this new +strange family love—he waited for what the +future should bring, while in the present all +went on quietly, the very sounds of life seeming +full of peace. The gardener mowing the lawn, +the birds singing in the shrubbery, the children +laughing at their play, and from the next room +Gladys' voice singing as she worked; he did +not know her song, but the refrain reached him +through the open window. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "And truth thee shall deliver,<br> + It is no drede!"<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER X. +<br><br> +OAKDENE MANOR. +</h2> + +<p class="intro"> + Oh, righteous doom, that they who make<br> + Pleasure their only end,<br> + Ordering the whole life for its sake,<br> + Miss that whereto they tend.<br> +</p> + +<p class="intro"> + While they who bid stern duty lead,<br> + Content to follow, they,<br> + Of duty only taking heed,<br> + Find pleasure by the way.<br> + ARCHBISHOP TRENCH.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +For more than a year Ellis Farrant had +reigned supreme at Oakdene Manor, but, +in spite of every effort to enjoy himself and +stifle his conscience, he had been exceedingly +miserable. In the winter after Mrs. Doery's +return from nursing Donovan, he worked himself +up into such a state of nervous terror that, +had he possessed a trifle more resolution, he +would probably have confessed his crime and +sought Donovan out at Monaco. But he was +weak, deplorably weak, and so he lived on at +the Manor, a misery to himself and to everyone +else. He interrogated the housekeeper closely +as to his step-son's means of living, asked her +endless questions about him, and received +somewhat curt answers, for Doery felt bound +to take the part of her ne'er-do-weel. Moreover +she brought him back all the money which +he had given her to use for the invalid, with an +assurance that Mr. Donovan would not touch it, +had been very angry with her for trying to +persuade him to pay the doctor's bill with it, +and had said that Mr. Farrant must salve his +conscience in some other way. +</p> + +<p> +Poor Ellis! it really had relieved him a little +to send those two ten-pound notes to his +victim, and to have them thrown back in his +face seemed hard; they made him feel uncomfortable +for days. At last he put them in the +church plate and was at ease again. +</p> + +<p> +But his remorse having only reached the +stage of desiring the personal comfort of +restitution, it was scarcely wonderful that when a +chance of honest confession was given him he +rejected it. He cared nothing for Donovan, he +only wanted to enjoy the sense of innocence +again, to escape from the horrible dread of +future punishment which perpetually haunted +his poor, selfish soul. Naturally enough remorse +on such a basis was like the house built upon +the sand, and when, one afternoon in July, a +card was brought into the smoking-room bearing +the words—"Dr. Tremain, Trenant, Porthkerran," +Ellis, half crazy with terror, was driven +to take refuge in cunning. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor meanwhile waited in the drawing-room, +involuntarily taking stock of this place +which by right belonged to his patient, and +struggling to keep his indignation within +bounds, that he might be cool enough for the +coming interview. But he was not at all +prepared for the manner of his reception. +</p> + +<p> +The door opened, the master of the house +came forward with outstretched hand, an +easy-mannered country gentleman, full of genial +hospitality; this was the character which Ellis +desired to assume, and he acted his part splendidly. +</p> + +<p> +"I think I have had the pleasure of meeting +you before, Dr. Tremain," he said, in a hearty +voice. "Delighted to see you, sir; I assure +you we have none of us forgotten your courtesy +at the time of my poor cousin's death. Are you +staying in the neighbourhood?" +</p> + +<p> +"I came solely for the purpose of seeing you," +said the doctor, gravely. "Mr. Farrant, you +seem to have some remembrance of our meeting +at Porthkerran, after Colonel Farrant's +death. Excuse the seeming impertinence, but +have you no remembrance of the Colonel's will +which I then placed in your hands?" +</p> + +<p> +There was not a trace, not the smallest sign +of guilt in Ellis's face. He raised his eyebrows, +and for a moment stared blankly at the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +"My good sir, I am quite ready to excuse all +seeming impertinence, but I am utterly at a +loss to understand your meaning." +</p> + +<p> +"Your memory must be capricious," said the +doctor. "Do you recollect your cousin's +funeral?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly," replied Ellis, with all due dignity. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you recollect that, after the funeral, we +returned to the inn, and that I then gave you a +sheet of paper, on which Colonel Farrant had +made his will, under circumstances which I +described to you?" +</p> + +<p> +A light as of dawning perception began to +steal over Ellis's face. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! now I know to what you refer!" he +exclaimed. "Forgive my apparent forgetfulness. +I assure you it was not forgetfulness of +your services, but merely of the business +transaction. Yes, I remember perfectly now. It +was a codicil, which, I believe, you yourself +witnessed, and in which my cousin left a legacy +to a comrade of his out in India." +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Farrant, seeing that I wrote the will +from the Colonel's dictation, you must at once +see that it is useless to evade the truth in this +way," said Dr. Tremain, controlling his temper +with difficulty: "The will directed that this +property should be bequeathed to Donovan +Farrant, the Colonel's only son; and I am here +to-day to demand of you why he is not in +possession of it." +</p> + +<p> +"My dear sir, you are labouring under a +most extraordinary delusion," said Ellis, with a +smile. "You are most entirely mistaken. But, +putting that aside, I really may have the right +to ask why you intrude into my personal +concerns. You are almost a stranger to me, and, +though I shall be delighted to show you any +hospitality in my power, yet, sir, I think you +must allow that to establish an inquisition with +regard to my private affairs, is, to say the least +of it, unusual. As the proverb has it, you +know, 'An Englishman's house is his castle,' +and though——" +</p> + +<p> +"If it <i>were</i> your house," interrupted the +doctor, "I should not have intruded myself upon +you, but I come now as the representative of +the right owner, who lies ill at my own home." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! the mystery begins to explain itself +then," said Ellis. "I am exceedingly sorry for +you, Dr. Tremain, but I see now that you have +been imposed upon by that miserable step-son +of mine. I suppose Donovan has been fabricating +this tale? He is a very clever fellow, and +no doubt his story was plausible enough." +</p> + +<p> +"You know perfectly well, Mr. Farrant, that +Donovan was utterly ignorant of the true facts +of the case, and that it was he who learnt them +from me, not I from him. Since, however, you +so wilfully refuse to acknowledge what you +must be aware I know perfectly well, may I +ask you to produce this codicil which you speak +of, or to prove to me that this legacy was ever +paid." +</p> + +<p> +"It never was paid," said Ellis, coolly. "I +was, as you remember, named as sole executor, +and of course put myself at once in communication +with this Indian friend. I can't even recall +the fellow's name now. Perhaps you can, having +written the codicil. But, poor man, he died +of cholera a week before the Colonel's death. +The codicil was of course worthless then, and +was, I believe, destroyed. So you see I cannot +offer you more proof. Now, if you will excuse +me, where is the proof of your assertion? +Where is your second witness?" +</p> + +<p> +"The second witness of Colonel Farrant's +will—Mary Pengelly—is dead," said the doctor; +"otherwise, of course, legal proceedings would +have been taken against you." +</p> + +<p> +Ellis, immensely relieved, burst out laughing. +</p> + +<p> +"'Pon my word, Dr. Tremain, this really is a +most ridiculous affair. You, with no manner of +proof, expect me to believe your assertion, and +I am in the unfortunate dilemma of having +nothing to convince you of my assertion. We +might go on arguing till Doomsday, and be no +nearer any agreement." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I see perfectly well that discussion is +useless," said the doctor, very gravely, "but it +was my duty to let you know that your doings +were discovered. It is also my duty to tell you +that Donovan is utterly destitute, and that if +something is not——" +</p> + +<p> +He was interrupted by a fresh voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Who is speaking of Donovan?" exclaimed +Adela Farrant, suddenly appearing at the open +window. She was in her shady hat and +gardening gloves, and in passing along the +terrace she had caught the name which during +the last year had passed into silence like that +of little Dot. +</p> + +<p> +"This gentleman has come to see me on +business, Adela; I must beg that you do not +interrupt us," said Ellis, half forgetting his <i>rôle</i>. +But Adela was not to be sent away like a child, +and her brother's words only made her the +more sure that the strange gentleman had +brought news of Donovan. +</p> + +<p> +"How is my cousin Donovan?" she asked, +boldly, turning to Dr. Tremain. "I am sure I +heard you speaking of him." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, you are quite right," replied Dr. Tremain, +rising from his seat. "I was telling +Mr. Farrant that Donovan is now staying with +me at Porthkerran, that he is utterly without +means of subsistence, and that he has had a +hard struggle to live honestly; he would have +got on well enough if his health had not given +way. I have been urging Mr. Farrant to be +just to him; but I fear with little success." +</p> + +<p> +"Wait a minute," said Adela, with her usual +prompt decision; "wait just one minute." She +hurried across the room to the window, and +called, clearly and unhesitatingly, "Nora! +Nora!" +</p> + +<p> +"I do wish, Adela, you would be more careful!" +exclaimed Ellis. "It will agitate Nora +dreadfully to hear about Donovan." +</p> + +<p> +"Let it," said Adela, scornfully. "She ought +to be agitated." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall not attempt to resume our +discussion," said Dr. Tremain, coldly, when Adela +went out on to the terrace to meet +Mrs. Farrant. "Only I hope you understand the +awful responsibility which you incur." +</p> + +<p> +Ellis would have replied, but at that minute +Adela returned with her sister-in-law. +</p> + +<p> +Time had dealt kindly with Mrs. Farrant, +she was still pretty, languid, gentle, and +lady-like; but there was a shade of sadness in her +face now which had never been seen in past +days. Considering the unusual circumstances, +her manner was marvellously composed, +however, as she gave her hand to the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Farrant tells me you have news of my +son," she said, in her calm voice. "I hope he is +well?" +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Tremain was so annoyed at the apparent +want of feeling that he answered, almost +sharply, +</p> + +<p> +"No, madam, he is anything but well; twice +this year he has been at death's door. He came +to me a week ago penniless and half starving." +</p> + +<p> +The next minute he almost regretted that he +had spoken with such impetuosity, for he saw +that after all she had something of a mother's +heart hidden away in folds upon folds of +self-love. Her eyes dilated. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no!" she cried. "You must be mistaken; +it surely can't be my son! Donovan +ill—Donovan starving! Oh! Ellis, you must have +pity on him—you must help him!" +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Nora, I have offered to help him +before now, and he flung the money back in my +face," said Ellis. +</p> + +<p> +"You must remember that in the last week +his position towards you is changed," said +Dr. Tremain. "That you can leave him in his +present straits without help I simply will not +believe." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Farrant began to question the doctor +about her son's illness, allowing more and more +of her real love to come to the surface, while +Adela went over to her brother and began to +remonstrate with him. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, Ellis, do this boy justice, and make +him a proper yearly allowance," she urged. +"Give him his £300 a year, and perhaps in +time I may come to respect you again. You +can't say now that you sent him off in a sudden +fit of passion, for here is a chance for you to +set all right, and, if you don't take it, you'll be +the most mean-spirited of mortals." +</p> + +<p> +Ellis smiled a grey smile. How little Adela +knew what setting all right would involve! +However, he would do something for his +step-son, only not too much, for he had a selfish +dread lest Donovan might possibly use the +money against him, be tempted to go to law +about this will, or in some way make life +uncomfortable to him. So with pitiable meanness +he scoffed at Adela's £300, and wrote instead +an agreement by which he bound himself to pay +to his step-son £50 half-yearly. +</p> + +<p> +He gave the promise to Dr. Tremain with as +condescending a manner as if he had been +bestowing a princely favour, all the time knowing +perfectly well that the very chair he sat on +belonged to Donovan. Dr. Tremain took the +paper without a word, and turned to Mrs. Farrant. +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot say that this will convince Donovan +that there is such a thing as truth and justice +in the world, but it will do him some good +to know that he still has your love, Mrs. Farrant. +You will send him some message, I hope." +</p> + +<p> +Her tears were flowing fast, but she made an +effort to check them. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell him I know I failed when we were +together, that it was my fault; and oh! do be +good to him, Dr. Tremain—make him +understand that I do love him." +</p> + +<p> +"I think that message will help him on," +said the doctor, warmly. "It is very good of +you to entrust it to me. For the rest, I can +only say that I will treat him like my own son." +</p> + +<p> +With that he rose to go, but he had scarcely +left the house when he was called back. +Mrs. Farrant hastened towards him. +</p> + +<p> +"One moment, Dr. Tremain—will you take +this to Donovan?" She drew a ring from her +finger. "Ask him if he still loves me to wear +it; tell him how I have longed to hear of him, +how thankful I am for your visit to-day." +</p> + +<p> +"And as for me," exclaimed Adela, coming +forward and putting her hand in the arm of her +sister-in-law. "Please tell Donovan that I, +being a free agent, shall write to him now that +I know his whereabouts. I don't see why a +freak of my brother's should come between us, +and I shall expect him to answer me for the +sake of old times." +</p> + +<p> +And so ended Dr. Tremain's visit. He left +the Manor with mingled feelings; in one way +he had received more than he expected, in +another less. But the atmosphere of the place +was unspeakably wretched, and the doctor was +long in losing his keen impression of it. A +loveless home, a treacherous, scheming man for +the head of the house, his languid wife, his +rather flippant sister; among such influences +as these Donovan had grown up. And yet in +every one there was some good, entirely latent +good in Ellis certainly, but in Mrs. Farrant +there was a genuine touch of motherliness, in +Adela a certain desire for justice and +willingness to befriend the ill-used. +</p> + +<p> +There was, too, one influence which Dr. Tremain +had forgotten. He had learnt from his +wife the story of little Dot; the sight of the +church tower in the valley, with its giant +yew-tree and clustering gravestones, reminded him +that there had been another member of the +Manor household—that Donovan had had at +least one ray of heaven's own sunlight in his +life. He made his way to the little churchyard, +and without much difficulty found Dot's grave; +but as he looked down at the marble cross, +with its inscription of "I am the resurrection +and the life," his thoughts were more of the +living Donovan than of the little child who +"after life's fitful fever" rested well. How +that cross and motto must have mocked him in +his hopeless grief!—how he must have dashed +his heart against words to him so hollow and +meaningless! The awful realisation of what +his sorrow must have been came to the doctor +overpoweringly; for the first time he fully +understood the ever-present look of pain in +Donovan's eyes; it was there when he spoke of +other things, when he was at ease, even when +he was laughing—a look of hunger which could +never be satisfied. If anything could have +deepened the doctor's love for his guest, it +would have been the sight of that hopeless +grave. He turned away at last, feeling no +longer the oppression of his visit to the Manor, +for he was communing with that very Resurrection +and Life who alone could lighten Donovan's +heart. +</p> + +<p> +It was not till the afternoon of the following +day that he reached home. The house was +quiet and deserted, but in the garden there +were sounds of distant voices, following which +the doctor was led to the orchard. There all +the home party were gathered together, +Mrs. Tremain working, Gladys reading aloud, +Donovan lying on his wheeled couch under the shade +of an old apple-tree, and in the background the +two little ones at play. They looked so +comfortable that he was loth to disturb them, but +Jackie in climbing one of the trees caught sight +of him, and in a minute, with shrieks of delight, +had rushed forward announcing his advent. +</p> + +<p> +Donovan's colour rose a little, but he waited +patiently till all the greetings were over; then +Gladys put down her book, and by a promised +game of hide and seek drew the children away, +so that her father might be able to talk +uninterruptedly. +</p> + +<p> +"I have not fared well," he began, in answer +to the mute inquiry on Donovan's face. "But +I have at least seen Mr. Farrant, which is +something." +</p> + +<p> +Then he described the interview as well as +he could, and Donovan listened without the +slightest comment until the doctor spoke of +Mrs. Farrant. +</p> + +<p> +"You saw her!" he exclaimed. "I am very +glad of that. Tell me more. Was she looking +well—happy?" +</p> + +<p> +"Scarcely happy; but then she was naturally +upset by hearing of your illness, and +of the troubles you have been through." +</p> + +<p> +"You must be mistaken. She never really +cared for me; she would never show more than +a well-bred interest, and that only because she +was listening to a stranger." +</p> + +<p> +"I think, Donovan, you are very much mistaken," +said the doctor, quietly. "The mistake +may be very natural, but I am sure that if you +had seen your mother you couldn't for one +moment have doubted her love. But stay, I +have a message for you." +</p> + +<p> +He repeated Mrs. Farrant's words just as +they had been spoken to him. Donovan was +touched and surprised. +</p> + +<p> +"Did she really say that!" he exclaimed. +"Don't think me too unnatural and hard-hearted, +but I can scarcely believe it. You are +sure those were her words?" +</p> + +<p> +"Quite sure," said the doctor, smiling. "And +I bring you substantial proof. I had left the +house when she called me back, and begged me +to take you this ring of hers, and to ask you, if +you still loved her, to wear it. The very last +thing she said was, 'Tell Donovan how I have +longed to hear from him, and how thankful I +am for your visit.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Poor mother! she must be very much +changed," said Donovan, taking the ring, and +turning it slowly round in his thin fingers. The +stone was a white cornelian, and on it was +engraved the Farrant motto. It was a ring +which he remembered to have seen on his +mother's hand since his childhood. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor watched him a little curiously, +for there was some hesitation in his manner as +he twisted the ring from side to side. At +length, however, he put it on very deliberately, +then looking at the doctor he said, with a sigh, +</p> + +<p> +"After all, I am half sorry she has done this. +I am afraid it is a sign that she is unhappy in +the present, that Mr. Farrant is making her +miserable, as I always prophesied he would. I +would rather have been without her love, and +believed her to be happy, as she was at first +after her marriage." +</p> + +<p> +"But supposing the old happiness were false, +and that through the disappointment she came +to realise the truth?" suggested the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +"The truth—at least, if her love to me is +true—can't do her much good, can in fact +only make her unhappy," said Donovan. "She +will never see me, and of what earthly use is +love if you can't do something to prove it by +service? That is why I half doubted about +wearing this ring; I shall never be able to do +anything for my mother. I believe I do love +her; but love without service is the ghost of +love, hardly worthy the name." +</p> + +<p> +"You are right, I think, in all but one thing," +said the doctor. "You can prove your love by +this: you wish to help your mother, but +circumstances prevent you. Supposing that she were +left alone in the world; you would be the first +to go to her." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Donovan, with emphasis. +</p> + +<p> +"And, besides," continued the doctor, "I +don't agree that she does nothing for you. +Does she not make the world a better place to +you? Is it not something that you can say to +yourself, 'I am not cheated of this goodly +birthright—I have a mother after all.' Is it not a +great thing to know there is some one thinking +of you, loving you—perhaps praying for you?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can't do that for her," he replied, in a low +voice. +</p> + +<p> +"No, not yet," said the doctor, quietly; and +then there was a long silence. +</p> + +<p> +At last Donovan spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"You said that Mr. Farrant promised to make +me some sort of allowance. I suppose I'm not +bound to accept it?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, but I advise you to do so," said the +doctor, unable to help smiling at the very +evident look of distaste which his words called up. +"You see, to begin with £100 a year is better +than nothing—that's the common-sense view; +and, from a higher point, I don't think it will +do you any harm to endure the discipline of +those half-yearly cheques." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan laughed outright. +</p> + +<p> +"I think I see myself writing the receipts +every six months in the style of a Greyshot +tradesman. 'D. F. with best thanks, and +soliciting Mr. Farrant's esteemed patronage for +the future."' +</p> + +<p> +The doctor was not a little relieved to hear +such a hearty laugh, he laughed himself, but +waited for Donovan to go on with the +discussion. With amusement still flickering about +his face he continued, +</p> + +<p> +"Still the great question is unsolved, what +else am I to do besides eating these half-yearly +slices of humble pie?" +</p> + +<p> +"What have you a taste for?" asked Dr. Tremain. +</p> + +<p> +"For nothing in the world except doctoring," +said Donovan, with decision. "It has always +seemed to me the only sensible and thoroughly +satisfactory profession. I suppose it's no good +thinking of it though. The training is very +long, isn't it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Four years," said Dr. Tremain. "The +longest of any of the professions. But if you've +a real inclination for it, you should certainly +follow your bent. In many ways I think you are +well fitted for it." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you really?" exclaimed Donovan. "I +was afraid Nature had fitted me for nothing but +the work of a mathematician, and I should be +afraid to try that now." +</p> + +<p> +"Why?" asked the doctor, surprised at such +an admission. +</p> + +<p> +"Because I know I'm as hard as nails already, +and don't want to get more so." +</p> + +<p> +"Proverbially, you know, the medical course +hardens men, for a time at least, but every rule +has its exceptions, and I half fancy you would +make an exception to this." +</p> + +<p> +"How about the entrance fees at the hospital?" +</p> + +<p> +"One hundred pounds, but you can pay by +instalments. There are many other expenses, +though, and you must live meanwhile. I don't +quite see how you can do it. However, we will +manage it somehow between us. A real inclination +such as this ought not to be neglected." +</p> + +<p> +"You have given me enough discipline, +though, already," said Donovan. "I can't +become utterly dependent. Don't think me +ungrateful, but unless I can scrape through on my +hundred pounds a year I won't go up. But it +must be possible—I'll do it somehow. I +suppose there are scholarships, too, at most of the +hospitals?" +</p> + +<p> +Upon this ensued a long discussion as to the +respective merits of St. Bartholomew's and +St. Thomas's, and that evening it was arranged that +Donovan should become a student at the latter +hospital. His thoughts were successfully drawn +from Ellis Farrant and the Oakdene property, +by the prospect of going up in two months' time +for his preliminary. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap11"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER XI. +<br><br> +THE IDEAL WOMAN. +</h2> + +<p class="intro"> + "But am I not the nobler through thy love?<br> + O three times less unworthy! likewise thou<br> + Art more thro' Love, and greater than thy years.<br> + The sun will run his orbit, and the moon<br> + Her circle. Wait, and Love himself will bring<br> + The drooping flower of knowledge changed to fruit<br> + Of wisdom. Wait: my faith is large in Time,<br> + And that which shapes it to some perfect end."<br> + TENNYSON.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"You look very hot and very much bored. +Don't you think those great books are +too dull for a summer morning?" exclaimed +Gladys, coming into the breakfast-room, where +Donovan was working, one sunny day in August. +</p> + +<p> +The table was dragged up to his couch, and, +to all appearance, he was very busy with his +examination work. +</p> + +<p> +"It is not the big books that bore me," he +said in reply. +</p> + +<p> +"But something has certainly happened to +you since breakfast time," said Gladys, laughing. +"Can Aunt Margaret have been here?" +</p> + +<p> +There was such <i>naïveté</i> in her tone that +Donovan could not help laughing. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he replied, "Mrs. Causton has been +here for the last hour. She is very—kind-hearted." +</p> + +<p> +Gladys smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, very, but she rubs people the wrong +way. Papa says it is because she thinks there +is only one way. As if, you know, we were all +made alike!" +</p> + +<p> +"I told you it wasn't the big books that bored +me," said Donovan. "What do you think of +this?" He handed her a little brown volume, +and turning to the title-page Gladys read—"An +Inquiry into the Nature, Symptoms, and +Effects of Religious Declension, with the Means +of Recovery." +</p> + +<p> +The colour rose in her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! I am so sorry!" she exclaimed. "I +hope—I hope you haven't minded it very much?" +</p> + +<p> +"I've no business to mind it, for she was +very kind; but there are some subjects which I +had rather have touched reverently. Do you +think that kind of spiritual hay-making does +much good? that raking up of feelings, that +tossing of texts? It's the first time I've come +across it." +</p> + +<p> +"Except when you met us in the train that +day and auntie gave you the tracts." +</p> + +<p> +Donovan laughed a little at the remembrance. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know though meeting you that day +made me feel very much ashamed of myself; I +never can think of those tracts without laughing. +The first of mine was 'Are you a drunkard?' +and the second 'Are you a swearer?' We +had a parrot at our rooms, a capital talker, but +like almost all parrots, it did swear most +dreadfully; some one fastened these tracts to its +cage, and taught it to ask the questions—a +very wicked thing, wasn't it? but irresistibly +comic." +</p> + +<p> +"Poor Aunt Margaret! what would she say!" +exclaimed Gladys. +</p> + +<p> +"It is not tracts that are wanted," continued +Donovan; "beautiful lives are the best arguments, +the only ones which will ever influence me." +</p> + +<p> +"Lives like your little sister's," said Gladys, +gently. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he replied; then, after a pause, "Not +that her life was what some people would have +approved; she never thought much of what +is called the soul, she was a little Undine till +she was nearly thirteen." +</p> + +<p> +"Was she thirteen when she died? I had +fancied her younger somehow." +</p> + +<p> +"So she was really in mind and ways," he +said, quietly. "She was a thorough child; your +little Nesta reminds me of her, though I don't +suppose you would see any likeness." +</p> + +<p> +He took the little miniature out and placed it +in her hands. Gladys looked at it in silence; it +was a most beautiful child's face, with delicate +features, clear, pale complexion, arched and +pencilled eyebrows, and glorious hazel eyes—eyes +which she thought very much like Donovan's, +only they were entirely without the sadness +which lurked in his. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you so much for letting me see it," +she said, giving it back to him. "She must +have been far lovelier than little Nesta; but I +think I do see the likeness you mean. Was +this taken long before she died?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, only a few months before," replied +Donovan. "It was taken when we were staying +at Codrington, and she was just beginning to +puzzle herself over all the unanswerable +questions; we talked one day about death, and of +course I had no comforting things to tell her +about it, I couldn't tell her what I believed to +be untrue. Then for a time the thought of it +haunted us both; there was an artist staying in +the hotel, and I got him to do this miniature for +me, knowing that the separation must come +some day, but not dreaming that it would be so soon." +</p> + +<p> +"And did she ever learn that death is not an +endless separation?" asked Gladys, the tears +welling up into her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he answered, quietly; "she learnt all +that could make her happy, how I don't know. +Isn't it strange how easily belief comes to +some? I would give worlds to be able now to +believe what you believe, to feel certain that +I'd got hold of the real truth, but I cannot, it's +an impossibility." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! don't say that," said Gladys, quickly, +"leave yourself at least a hope, or how will +you ever have the heart to go on searching for +the truth? It may not always seem impossible +to you." +</p> + +<p> +Her sweet, eager face, with its entire absence +of self-consciousness, took Donovan's heart by +storm; hitherto she had influenced him, +fascinated him, but now for the first time he knew +that he loved her. +</p> + +<p> +"Life is full of strange surprises," he +answered; "you may be right, I'll unsay that +'impossible.'" +</p> + +<p> +Then with the strange new sense of love in +his heart, and the craving for her sympathy, he +told her all about Dot's death, and Gladys' +tears fell fast as she heard the details of that +last night, and realised how terribly Donovan +must have suffered. +</p> + +<p> +From that time there was a great difference +in their intercourse; they talked much more +freely, gliding into a sort of brotherly and +sisterly intimacy; at least, so it seemed. Donovan, +though conscious of his love, was not in the +frame of mind to think of the future, it was +quite enough for him to live in the present, +knowing and loving Gladys; and she, beginning +with the wish to give him a little of the +sister's love which he missed so much, drifted +imperceptibly, unconsciously into a love +altogether different. +</p> + +<p> +Very happy to both of them were those +summer weeks; in the long mornings Donovan +worked hard for his examinations, in the +afternoon there were merry gatherings in the shady +old orchard, games with the children, reading +aloud, or attempts at sketching. +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon, when they were all sitting in +the shade of the great mulberry-tree, engrossed +in their own various books, Gladys looked up +laughing. +</p> + +<p> +"Just listen to this. How would you have +liked it? 'He was constantly annoyed by being +asked to write his likes and dislikes in ladies' +albums.'" +</p> + +<p> +"I know the horrid inventions," said Donovan. +"A cousin of mine used to be always +boring people to write in hers—their ideas of +pleasure, pain, beauty, and so on." +</p> + +<p> +"Rather fun too, I think," said Gladys. "Only +that one's ideas would be always changing." +</p> + +<p> +"I should have no difficulty in writing some +of my ideas now," said Donovan. "The idea +of happiness would certainly be 'a sprained +ankle at Trenant,' and the idea of beauty, +'the long grass and daisies in this orchard with +the sunshine on them.'" He added, in his +thoughts, "And Gladys sitting with her book +among the daisies." +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes, in the cool of the evening, they +used to drive out in the pony-chaise, along by +the sea, or through the narrow lanes with their +high, mossy banks, pausing now and then at +some cottage to leave a message, or to visit +some of Mrs. Tremain's innumerable friends +among the poor. There was very little society +round Porthkerran. In the winter Gladys +sometimes went to one or two dances at some +distant country house. In the summer there was +an occasional picnic or garden-party, but the +neighbourhood was thinly populated, and the +distances were too great for very much visiting. +So Porthkerran formed a little clan of its own; +and as by good chance the squire and the rector +were both fond of natural history, Dr. Tremain +was able to gather round him a small scientific +society; this, with the exception of the constant +visits of Mrs. Causton, and of their nearest +neighbour, a jocose old man, Admiral Smith, +constituted the clan proper. But the Tremains +knew almost everyone in the little fishing-town, +and though Gladys never undertook formal +district-visiting, she was welcomed in any house, +and there was scarcely a child in the place +whom she did not know at least by name. +</p> + +<p> +She was therefore never idle and never dull. +There were always plenty of tragedies and +comedies going on among her large circle of +friends, in both of which she was interested. +Or there were orphans to be sent to school, or +blind people to be read to, or twin babies who +must be worked for, or sick children to be +amused. Donovan liked to watch her busy +life; she evidently enjoyed it so thoroughly. +</p> + +<p> +There was one event, too, which was constantly +being talked of, namely, Dick's return +from sea. He was expected in September, and +Donovan used to listen half sadly to the daily +hopes and wonders as to his progress. When +the papers came, there was always a rush to +find the latest "Shipping Intelligence," and +delighted exclamations when H.M.S. <i>Cerberus</i> +was mentioned as having left some port on her +homeward journey. How strange it must be to +be loved, and watched, and waited for so eagerly! +</p> + +<p> +By this time the first cheque from Ellis had +been received and acknowledged, and +immediately Donovan made use of the money to +recover Dot's clock from the Liverpool +pawnbroker's. He also sent a ten-pound note to the +hospitable Devonshire man who had helped +him out of the Foxtor mire. This last piece of +gratitude was perhaps slightly rash, considering +his very narrow means, but he could not +rest till he had sent it. +</p> + +<p> +His ankle was now quite recovered, and in +September he was able to go up for his +examination, but not before he had promised to +spend his last few days at Porthkerran. The +doctor had proposed that he should share +Stephen Causton's rooms in town. Stephen was +still at St. Thomas's, and as his mother made +no objection, and Donovan liked the thought of +being with any connection of the Tremains, the +arrangement was made; but unfortunately +Stephen, who had been spending the vacation +abroad, returned with his eyes in a very delicate +state, and a bad attack of ophthalmia ensuing, +obliged him to give up all thoughts of work +for many months. +</p> + +<p> +After his long stay at Trenant, Donovan felt +rather at sea when he went up to town to begin +his solitary life again. However, he had no +time to be dull, for he was very anxious about +his examination. Besides, before many days +he hoped to be with the Tremains again. He +passed his preliminary successfully. The +scholarship examination was not till after the +beginning of term, so there was nothing to detain +him longer, and another week at Gladys' home +was not to be missed on any consideration. He +went back to Porthkerran in excellent spirits. +It was about half-past five on a bright +September afternoon when he reached St. Renans, the +nearest station. He had only just set out for +the five-mile walk along the dusty road, when +he was overtaken by a fellow pedestrian, who, +on seeing the direction he took, hurried after him. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you going beyond Porthkerran?" he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +"No, to Porthkerran itself," replied Donovan, +looking at the speaker with some curiosity. He +was apparently about his own age, a lithe, +active-looking fellow, with a very sunburnt but +good-looking face, and merry, blue-grey eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Let me send your bag with my traps, then; +the carrier leaves in an hour's time." +</p> + +<p> +There was a very evident "Who are you?" +in Donovan's eyes; but the stranger, nothing +daunted, took the bag from him and ran back to +the little inn; then, returning in a moment, he +said, apologetically, +</p> + +<p> +"You must excuse this 'hail fellow well met' +business, but I am Dick Tremain, and, if I am +not very much mistaken, you are Mr. Farrant." +</p> + +<p> +They shook hands. +</p> + +<p> +"You are a very clever guesser," said +Donovan. "I ought to have known you; but I had +no idea you were expected to-day." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not, that's just the fun of it," returned +Dick, accommodating his seaman's gait to +Donovan's long strides. "They don't the least +expect me; we got into Plymouth Sound this +morning, and I made up my mind to come +straight on and surprise them. They're all +right at home, I suppose?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, when I left they were all very well." +</p> + +<p> +"And your ankle is mended again, to judge +by the pace you're going at. I heard all about +that cliff adventure." +</p> + +<p> +"It brought me the pleasantest two months +of my life," said Donovan. "I'm coming down +now to say good-bye before starting at +St. Thomas's, in October. I'm sorry, though, that I +just chanced to come back on the same day you +did." +</p> + +<p> +Dick laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"I might take that as a bad compliment, and +you know we have still four miles to walk. But +in all seriousness you really must take back +your words, for I have been particularly +hoping to see you, and at Trenant it is always +'the more the merrier.' So you are going +to St. Thomas's? Is Stephen Causton still +there?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; we were to have shared rooms, but +his eyes have given out, so he won't go up this +term." +</p> + +<p> +"Better luck for you, I should say. Perhaps +you've seen him, though?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, he's only just home. What sort of a +fellow is he?" +</p> + +<p> +"A regular sawney—good-humoured enough, +but weak as water. He's never been allowed +to shift for himself; he's a regular mother's son." +</p> + +<p> +This was a genus utterly unknown to Donovan; +he asked several questions about the +Caustons, and, as Dick possessed the genial +manner and the ready speech of his family, the +five mile walk was quite sufficient to make the +two pretty well acquainted. At last they +reached the turn in the road which brought +them into sight of the little fishing-town. +</p> + +<p> +Porthkerran was a very picturesque place; it +stood at the head of a tidal inlet, which in +olden times had been one of the most frequented +harbours of the west. The building of the +breakwater had, however, caused it to be +superseded by Plymouth Sound, and Porthkerran was +now obliged to content itself with seeing from +afar the passing ships. It had been a noted +resort of smugglers, and the irregularly-built +streets, with their narrow twistings and windings, +the innumerable passages and mysterious flights +of steps, the houses with their second doors and +secure hiding-places, all bore witness to the +bygone times when the one interest, excitement, +and object in life of the inhabitants had been to +smuggle, and to escape from the coastguardsmen. +Many curious stories were still handed +down in the village of great-grandmothers who +had concealed fabulous numbers of silk dresses +under their own ample skirts; of perilous +escapes down dark alleys; of kegs of brandy +which some daring sexton had once concealed +for several days in the church itself. The +rising generation listened with interest to these +tales of the evil deeds of their forefathers; +sometimes they even went so far as to wish that +their own lot had been cast in those more +exciting days, and were so depraved as not to +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Thank the goodness and the grace<br> + Which on their birth had smiled."<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +But to wish that they had not been taught so +very often in Sunday-school that the boys who +stole apples invariably came to a bad end, or +that living in those benighted days they might +have enjoyed in peace a little of the excitement +of smuggling. +</p> + +<p> +But Porthkerran was now an eminently respectable +fishing village, and if it did break the +Ten Commandments, broke them in a less +flagrant and open manner than in former times. +Adulteration of food and false weights were +certainly not quite unknown in the place, but +on the whole Porthkerran had decidedly +improved, and the inhabitants were, as a rule, +hospitable, kindly, and staunch. +</p> + +<p> +The little place looked especially pretty in +the sunset glow of the September evening; the +quaint, compact little town, with its curling +columns of blue smoke, telling of the supper in +preparation for the fishermen, the narrow strip +of beach, dotted here and there with brown nets +spread out to dry, the calm bay, with its +orange-sailed boats, and aslant from the west a broad +pathway of tawny gold, ever, as the sun sank +lower, deepening to crimson. +</p> + +<p> +And this was Gladys' home! Donovan's heart +gave a great bound when he realised how near +he was to her. It was a beautiful little place +certainly, but he would have thought the Black +Country beautiful if Gladys had lived there. +How he had pictured it all to himself up in +those dull London lodgings!—how he had +paced in imagination that very road, had +reached that ivy-covered house! Well, here +he was in sober reality, and even as they drew +near the door was thrown open, and Gladys' +own fresh voice was ringing in his ears. +</p> + +<p> +"Dick—oh! Dick, you dear, delightful boy +to come so unexpectedly! How exactly like +you to walk in so quietly! And Donovan, too! +How clever of you to find each other out!" +</p> + +<p> +Donovan felt the real welcome of her voice +and hand; it was, moreover, the first time she +had directly spoken to him by his Christian +name, for, though he had long ceased to be +"Mr. Farrant" to any of them, these two had +as yet kept instinctively to that most indefinite +of all personal pronouns, "you." +</p> + +<p> +In a minute all the household came flocking +out into the hall to welcome the sailor after his +long absence. Donovan watched the greetings +with a strange mixture of pain and pleasure, +his new nature sharing in the general happiness, +his old nature viewing all with silent, +deep-seated envy. His usual helper, however, +came to his aid; a delighted cry of "Dono! +Dono!" made him look up, and there, slowly +coming down the broad oak staircase, her right +foot solemnly stumping in front, her left foot +following with less dignity in its wake, was +little Nesta. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear Dono to tum back!" she cried, gleefully. +"Lift me over the ban'sters, Mr. Dono, +up on to you shoulder." +</p> + +<p> +He lifted her across, received a half-strangling +hug, and was not a little flattered that only +from her perch on his shoulder would she be +induced to kiss the strange brother. +</p> + +<p> +After the seven o'clock dinner was over, +Donovan made his escape from the rest of the +family, strolled down the garden, and gave +himself up to a rather sombre reverie. The +last words he had heard spoken by Dick to +Gladys rang rather painfully in his ears—"Oh, +and don't you remember——" There was no +one in all the world to whom he could now say, +"Don't you remember." He had to an almost +morbid extent, too, the dread of intruding +himself where he was not wanted, and, this evening +he argued to himself logically enough that it +was impossible they should not prefer his +absence. And it certainly was true that for a +time no one missed him, that the father and +mother were entirely engrossed in their boy, +that even Gladys did not at first understand +his non-appearance. But, delighted as she was +at Dick's return, and interested as she was in +his stories, she was nevertheless conscious of +an undefined sense of trouble, which grew and +grew, until at length it flashed upon her +suddenly that Donovan must be purposely keeping +aloof, afraid of spoiling the freedom of the +family talk. She remembered now that she had +been talking to Dick as they left the +dining-room; how inconsiderate she had been! how +absorbed in her own happiness! It was just +like Donovan to take himself off alone. He +must be found and taken to task. She would +not disturb her father or mother, but putting +down her work, she slipped quietly out of the +room, looked into the study, but he was not +there, into the dining-room, but it was empty +and deserted, finally snatching up an old +wide-awake of her father's as protection from the +dew, she instituted a search in the garden. +</p> + +<p> +At last in the twilight she caught sight of a +dark figure pacing to and fro by the strawberry +beds. He did not notice her till she was almost +close to him, then suddenly turning round he +found himself face to face with a white-robed +apparition, and started a little. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not a ghost, though I have a white +frock," she exclaimed; "and I'm not papa, +though I have his hat. Why are you wandering +up and down the very froggiest and toadiest +path in the garden?" +</p> + +<p> +"Birds of a feather flock together," he said, +lightly. "I've a good deal in common with +the frogs, a love of croaking and a coldness of +heart—or absence of heart altogether, is it?" +</p> + +<p> +"I came to scold you," said Gladys, "not to +laugh. Why have you not been listening to +Dick? You've no idea what adventures he has +had this voyage." +</p> + +<p> +"Why are you not with him?" returned +Donovan. "I hoped—I thought you would all +forget that I was here, and enjoy him to +yourselves." +</p> + +<p> +"Why to <i>ourselves</i>?" +</p> + +<p> +"Is not that the only way really to enjoy him?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not when you won't be one of the selves. +I thought you did really take this as a home." +</p> + +<p> +"So I do. Never doubt that, in whatever +way I act." +</p> + +<p> +"Then why not act as a part of the home, +taking it for granted that we like you to be +interested in all our interests. Can't you +understand that of course we do?" +</p> + +<p> +He did not answer for a moment, but even in +the dim, shady garden-walk Gladys could see +how his face lighted up—what a strange new +look of rest dawned in his eyes! +</p> + +<p> +"I have believed in neither God nor man," +he said at last, "but you have forced me to +believe in the latter. Ever since I came here +you have been teaching me. If ever I doubt +human goodness again, I shall only have to +remember that there is such a place as Trenant +in the world." +</p> + +<p> +"Then if that is so," said Gladys, smiling, +"I shall thank my hat for blowing over the +cliffs that day, even though it did give you so +much trouble and pain. However, we've wandered +from the point. You will come in, won't +you? It was so stupid of me not to remember +sooner that you would be sure to take yourself +off." +</p> + +<p> +He laughed a little. +</p> + +<p> +"You own, then, that it was natural?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not at all; most people would never have +dreamt of doing such a thing." +</p> + +<p> +"But you knew that I should," said Donovan, +triumphantly gaining the assurance that she +understood his character. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, yes," she owned, "I thought it would +be very like you to feel in the way and not +wanted." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't be too hard on me for that; you've +no idea how I've been shut out of things all my +life. No one has ever loved me but a few +children and a dog or two." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, you must not say that!" she exclaimed, +in a voice so pained, so unlike itself that it even +startled her. "You know—you know that is +not true!" +</p> + +<p> +As the words passed her lips, she knew for +the first time that her own love for Donovan +was no sisterly love, no friendly liking; that +brief sentence of his and her own impulsive +reply revealed to her the wholly unsuspected +depth of her feelings. Had she been aware of +this sooner, it would have been utterly impossible +for her to run out into the garden to find +him, as she had done only a few minutes before +in perfect simplicity. It was twilight, that was +one comfort; he could not see that her cheeks +were glowing with maidenly shame, that she +was trembling in every limb. Strange as it +may seem, though he loved her, he did not +notice her sudden change—that is, it did not at +all convey to him the faintest idea that her own +love caused that pained tone in her voice. They +walked on for a minute or two in silence. +</p> + +<p> +Donovan was the first to speak; she knew by +his manner that she had not betrayed herself. +</p> + +<p> +"I was wrong to speak bitterly; this +evening's welcome to Porthkerran ought to have +reminded me of the love I have found here. +One of your father's hand-shakes is worth +travelling three hundred miles for." +</p> + +<p> +Gladys turned in the direction of the house. +</p> + +<p> +"And Nesta was so delighted to have you +back again. You can't think how fond she is +of you; we used to hear her telling Waif long +stories about you while you were in London. +Nesta's stories are such fun. I think she has a +good deal of imagination." +</p> + +<p> +They reached the house as she finished +speaking, and finding the drawing-room window +open, she went in that way and soon had the +satisfaction of seeing Donovan really join the +family group. +</p> + +<p> +The mantle of his taciturnity seemed to have +fallen instead upon her; before long she slipped +out of the room and slowly and dreamily +wandered away, she hardly knew whither. +This strange new conviction, this consciousness +of love, seemed to have transported her +into a new world. Presently, finding herself +by the night nursery door, she stole softly in, +and sat down by Nesta's little bed. The curly +brown head nestled down on the pillow, the +rosy face half hidden seemed the very picture +of peace. And Gladys too, though her face +glowed and her eyes shone with the love which +had just dawned in her heart, was not otherwise +than peaceful; there was a great deal of +the child about her still, not a thought of the +future had crossed her mind. +</p> + +<p> +"You love him too, little Nesta," she +whispered, bending over the sleeping child, "but not +as I do. Oh! Nesta darling, can you ever be +so happy as I am to-night! Can there possibly +be such another for you to love!" +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +END OF THE SECOND VOLUME. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> +LONDON: PRINTED BY DUNCAN MACDONALD, BLENHEIM HOUSE. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78457 ***</div> +</body> + +</html> + diff --git a/78457-h/images/img-cover.jpg b/78457-h/images/img-cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ddf0d50 --- /dev/null +++ b/78457-h/images/img-cover.jpg |
