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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/787-0.txt b/787-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..50ec0d4 --- /dev/null +++ b/787-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7387 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Man Between, by Amelia E. Barr + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Man Between + +Author: Amelia E. Barr + +Posting Date: July 31, 2008 [EBook #787] +Release Date: January, 1997 +Last Updated: October 31, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN BETWEEN *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Keller + + + + + +THE MAN BETWEEN + +An International Romance + +By Amelia E. Barr + + + + +PART FIRST -- O LOVE WILL VENTURE IN! + + + + +THE MAN BETWEEN + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE thing that I know least about is my beginning. For it is possible +to introduce Ethel Rawdon in so many picturesque ways that the choice +is embarrassing, and forces me to the conclusion that the actual +circumstances, though commonplace, may be the most suitable. Certainly +the events that shape our lives are seldom ushered in with pomp or +ceremony; they steal upon us unannounced, and begin their work without +giving any premonition of their importance. + +Consequently Ethel had no idea when she returned home one night from +a rather stupid entertainment that she was about to open a new and +important chapter of her life. Hitherto that life had been one of the +sweetest and simplest character--the lessons and sports of childhood +and girlhood had claimed her nineteen years; and Ethel was just at that +wonderful age when, the brook and the river having met, she was feeling +the first swell of those irresistible tides which would carry her day by +day to the haven of all days. + +It was Saturday night in the January of 1900, verging toward twelve +o’clock. When she entered her room, she saw that one of the windows was +open, and she stood a moment or two at it, looking across the straight +miles of white lights, in whose illumined shadows thousands of sleepers +were holding their lives in pause. + +“It is not New York at all,” she whispered, “it is some magical city +that I have seen, but have never trod. It will vanish about six o’clock +in the morning, and there will be only common streets, full of common +people. Of course,” and here she closed the window and leisurely removed +her opera cloak, “of course, this is only dreaming, but to dream waking, +or to dream sleeping, is very pleasant. In dreams we can have men as we +like them, and women as we want them, and make all the world happy and +beautiful.” + +She was in no hurry of feeling or movement. She had been in a crowd for +some hours, and was glad to be quite alone and talk to herself a little. +It was also so restful to gradually relinquish all the restraining gauds +of fashionable attire, and as she leisurely performed these duties, she +entered into conversation with her own heart--talked over with it the +events of the past week, and decided that its fretless days, full of +good things, had been, from the beginning to the end, sweet as a cup of +new milk. For a woman’s heart is very talkative, and requires little to +make it eloquent in its own way. + +In the midst of this intimate companionship she turned her head, and +saw two letters lying upon a table. She rose and lifted them. One was an +invitation to a studio reception, and she let it flutter indeterminately +from her hand; the other was both familiar and appealing; none of her +correspondents but Dora Denning used that peculiar shade of blue paper, +and she instantly began to wonder why Dora had written to her. + +“I saw her yesterday afternoon,” she reflected, “and she told me +everything she had to tell--and what does she-mean by such a tantalizing +message as this? ‘Dearest Ethel: I have the most extraordinary news. +Come to me immediately. Dora.’ How exactly like Dora!” she commented. +“Come to me im-mediately--whether you are in bed or asleep--whether +you are sick or well--whether it is midnight or high noon--come to +me immediately. Well, Dora, I am going to sleep now, and to-morrow is +Sunday, and I never know what view father is going to take of Sunday. He +may ask me to go to church with him, and he may not. He may want me to +drive in the afternoon, and again he may not; but Sunday is father’s +home day, and Ruth and I make a point of obliging him in regard to it. +That is one of our family principles; and a girl ought to have a few +principles of conduct involving self-denial. Aunt Ruth says, ‘Life +cannot stand erect without self-denial,’ and aunt is usually right--but +I do wonder what Dora wants! I cannot imagine what extraordinary news +has come. I must try and see her to-morrow--it may be difficult--but I +must make the effort”--and with this satisfying resolution she easily +fell asleep. + +When she awoke the church bells were ringing and she knew that her +father and aunt would have breakfasted. The feet did not trouble her. It +was an accidental sleep-over; she had not planned it, and circumstances +would take care of themselves. In any case, she had no fear of rebuke. +No one was ever cross with Ethel. It was a matter of pretty general +belief that whatever Ethel did was just right. So she dressed herself +becomingly in a cloth suit, and, with her plumed hat on her head, went +down to see what the day had to offer her. + +“The first thing is coffee, and then, all being agreeable, Dora. I shall +not look further ahead,” she thought. + +As she entered the room she called “Good morning!” and her voice was +like the voice of the birds when they call “Spring!”; and her face was +radiant with smiles, and the touch of her lips and the clasp of her hand +warm with love and life; and her father and aunt forgot that she was +late, and that her breakfast was yet to order. + +She took up the reproach herself. “I am so sorry, Aunt Ruth. I only want +a cup of coffee and a roll.” + +“My dear, you cannot go without a proper breakfast. Never mind the hour. +What would you like best?” + +“You are so good, Ruth. I should like a nice breakfast--a breast of +chicken and mushrooms, and some hot muffins and marmalade would do. +How comfortable you look here! Father, you are buried in newspapers. Is +anyone going to church?” + +Ruth ordered the desired breakfast and Mr. Rawdon took out his watch--“I +am afraid you have delayed us too long this morning, Ethel.” + +“Am I to be the scapegoat? Now, I do not believe anyone wanted to go to +church. Ruth had her book, you, the newspapers. It is warm and pleasant +here, it is cold and windy outside. I know what confession would be +made, if honesty were the fashion.” + +“Well, my little girl, honesty is the fashion in this house. I believe +in going to church. Religion is the Mother of Duty, and we should all +make a sad mess of life without duty. Is not that so, Ruth?” + +“Truth itself, Edward; but religion is not going to church and listening +to sermons. Those who built the old cathedrals of Europe had no idea +that sitting in comfortable pews and listening to some man talking was +worshiping God. Those great naves were intended for men and women to +stand or kneel in before God. And there were no high or low standing +or kneeling places; all were on a level before Him. It is our modern +Protestantism which has brought in lazy lolling in cushioned pews; and +the gallery, which makes a church as like a playhouse as possible!” + +“What are you aiming at, Ruth?” + +“I only meant to say, I would like going to church much better if we +went solely to praise God, and entreat His mercy. I do not care to hear +sermons.” + +“My dear Ruth, sermons are a large fact in our social economy. When a +million or two are preached every year, they have a strong claim on +our attention. To use a trade phrase, sermons are firm, and I believe a +moderate tax on them would yield an astonishing income.” + +“See how you talk of them, Edward; as if they were a commercial +commodity. If you respected them----” + +“I do. I grant them a steady pneumatic pressure in the region of morals, +and even faith. Picture to yourself, Ruth, New York without sermons. The +dear old city would be like a ship without ballast, heeling over with +every wind, and letting in the waters of immorality and scepticism. +Remove this pulpit balance just for one week from New York City, and +where should we be?” + +“Well then,” said Ethel, “the clergy ought to give New York a first-rate +article in sermons, either of home or foreign manufacture. New York +expects the very best of everything; and when she gets it, she opens her +heart and her pocketbook enjoys it, and pays for it.” + +“That is the truth, Ethel. I was thinking of your grandmother Rawdon. +You have your hat on--are you going to see her?” + +“I am going to see Dora Denning. I had an urgent note from her last +night. She says she has ‘extraordinary news’ and begs me to ‘come to +her immediately.’ I cannot imagine what her news is. I saw her Friday +afternoon.” + +“She has a new poodle, or a new lover, or a new way of crimping her +hair,” suggested Ruth Bayard scornfully. “She imposes on you, Ethel; why +do you submit to her selfishness?” + +“I suppose because I have become used to it. Four years ago I began +to take her part, when the girls teased and tormented her in the +schoolroom, and I have big-sistered her ever since. I suppose we get to +love those who make us kind and give us trouble. Dora is not perfect, +but I like her better than any friend I have. And she must like me, for +she asks my advice about everything in her life.” + +“Does she take it?” + +“Yes--generally. Sometimes I have to make her take it.” + +“She has a mother. Why does she not go to her?” + +“Mrs. Denning knows nothing about certain subjects. I am Dora’s social +godmother, and she must dress and behave as I tell her to do. Poor Mrs. +Denning! I am so sorry for her--another cup of coffee, Ruth--it is not +very strong.” + +“Why should you be sorry for Mrs. Denning, Her husband is enormously +rich--she lives in a palace, and has a crowd of men and women servants +to wait upon her--carriages, horses, motor cars, what not, at her +command.” + +“Yet really, Ruth, she is a most unhappy woman. In that little Western +town from which they came, she was everybody. She ran the churches, and +was chairwoman in all the clubs, and President of the Temperance Union, +and manager of every religious, social, and political festival; and her +days were full to the brim of just the things she liked to do. Her dress +there was considered magnificent; people begged her for patterns, and +regarded her as the very glass of fashion. Servants thought it a great +privilege to be employed on the Denning place, and she ordered her house +and managed her half-score of men and maids with pleasant autocracy. +NOW! Well, I will tell you how it is, NOW. She sits all day in her +splendid rooms, or rides out in her car or carriage, and no one knows +her, and of course no one speaks to her. Mr. Denning has his Wall Street +friends----” + +“And enemies,” interrupted Judge Rawdon. + +“And enemies! You are right, father. But he enjoys one as much as the +other--that is, he would as willingly fight his enemies as feast his +friends. He says a big day in Wall Street makes him alive from head to +foot. He really looks happy. Bryce Denning has got into two clubs, and +his money passes him, for he plays, and is willing to love prudently. +But no one cares about Mrs. Denning. She is quite old--forty-five, I +dare say; and she is stout, and does not wear the colors and style she +ought to wear--none of her things have the right ‘look,’ and of course +I cannot advise a matron. Then, her fine English servants take her house +out of her hands. She is afraid of them. The butler suavely tries to +inform her; the housekeeper removed the white crotcheted scarfs +and things from the gilded chairs, and I am sure Mrs. Denning had a +heartache about their loss; but she saw that they had also vanished from +Dora’s parlor, so she took the hint, and accepted the lesson. Really, +her humility and isolation are pitiful. I am going to ask grandmother +to go and see her. Grandmother might take her to church, and get Dr. +Simpson and Mrs. Simpson to introduce her. Her money and adaptability +would do the rest. There, I have had a good breakfast, though I was +late. It is not always the early bird that gets chicken and mushrooms. +Now I will go and see what Dora wants”--and lifting her furs with a +smile, and a “Good morning!” equally charming, she disappeared. + +“Did you notice her voice, Ruth?” asked Judge Rawdon. “What a tone there +is in her ‘good morning!’” + +“There is a tone in every one’s good morning, Edward. I think people’s +salutations set to music would reveal their inmost character. Ethel’s +good morning says in D major ‘How good is the day!’ and her good +night drops into the minor third, and says pensively ‘How sweet is the +night!’” + +“Nay, Ruth, I don’t understand all that; but I do understand the voice. +It goes straight to my heart.” + +“And to my heart also, Edward. I think too there is a measured music, +a central time and tune, in every life. Quick, melodious natures like +Ethel’s never wander far from their keynote, and are therefore joyously +set; while slow, irresolute people deviate far, and only come back after +painful dissonances and frequent changes.” + +“You are generally right, Ruth, even where I cannot follow you. I hope +Ethel will be home for dinner. I like my Sunday dinner with both of you, +and I may bring my mother back with me.” + +Then he said “Good morning” with an intentional cheerfulness, and Ruth +was left alone with her book. She gave a moment’s thought to the value +of good example, and then with a sigh of content let her eyes rest on +the words Ethel’s presence had for awhile silenced: + +“I am filled with a sense of sweetness and wonder that such, little +things can make a mortal so exceedingly rich. But I confess that the +chiefest of all my delights is still the religious.” (Theodore Parker.) +She read the words again, then closed her eyes and let the honey of some +sacred memory satisfy her soul. And in those few minutes of reverie, +Ruth Bayard revealed the keynote of her being. Wanderings from it, +caused by the exigencies and duties of life, frequently occurred; but +she quickly returned to its central and controlling harmony; and +her serenity and poise were therefore as natural as was her niece’s +joyousness and hope. Nor was her religious character the result of +temperament, or of a secluded life. Ruth Bayard was a woman of thought +and culture, and wise in the ways of the world, but not worldly. Her +personality was very attractive, she had a good form, an agreeable face, +speaking gray eyes, and brown hair, soft and naturally wavy. She was a +distant cousin of Ethel’s mother, but had been brought up with her in +the same household, and always regarded her as a sister, and Ethel never +remembered that she was only her aunt by adoption. Ten years older than +her niece, she had mothered her with a wise and loving patience, and +her thoughts never wandered long or far from the girl. Consequently, +she soon found herself wondering what reason there could be for Dora +Denning’s urgency. + +In the meantime Ethel had reached her friend’s residence a new building +of unusual size and very ornate architecture. Liveried footmen and +waiting women bowed her with mute attention to Miss Denning’s suite, an +absolutely private arrangement of five rooms, marvelously furnished +for the young lady’s comfort and delight. The windows of her parlor +overlooked the park, and she was standing at one of them as Ethel +entered the room. In a passion of welcoming gladness she turned to her, +exclaiming: “I have been watching for you hours and hours, Ethel. I have +the most wonderful thing to tell you. I am so happy! So happy! No one +was ever as happy as I am.” + +Then Ethel took both her hands, and, as they stood together, she looked +intently at her friend. Some new charm transfigured her face; for her +dark, gazelle eyes were not more lambent than her cheeks, though in +a different way; while her black hair in its picturesquely arranged +disorder seemed instinct with life, and hardly to be restrained. She was +constantly pushing it back, caressing or arranging it; and her white, +slender fingers, sparkling with jewels, moved among the crimped and wavy +locks, as if there was an intelligent sympathy between them. + +“How beautiful you are to-day, Dora! Who has worked wonders on you?” + +“Basil Stanhope. He loves me! He loves me! He told me so last night--in +the sweetest words that were ever uttered. I shall never forget one +of them--never, as long as I live! Let us sit down. I want to tell you +everything.” + +“I am astonished, Dora!” + +“So was mother, and father, and Bryce. No one suspected our affection. +Mother used to grumble about my going ‘at all hours’ to St. Jude’s +church; but that was because St. Jude’s is so very High Church, and +mother is a Methodist Episcopal. It was the morning and evening prayers +she objected to. No one had any suspicion of the clergyman. Oh, Ethel, +he is so handsome! So good! So clever! I think every woman in the church +is in love with him.” + +“Then if he is a good man, he must be very unhappy.” + +“Of course he is quite ignorant of their admiration, and therefore quite +innocent. I am the only woman he loves, and he never even remembers me +when he is in the sacred office. If you could see him come out of the +vestry in his white surplice, with his rapt face and prophetic eyes. So +mystical! So beautiful! You would not wonder that I worship him.” + +“But I do not understand--how did you meet him socially?” + +“I met him at Mrs. Taylor’s first. Then he spoke to me one morning as I +came out of church, and the next morning he walked through the park with +me. And after that--all was easy enough.” + +“I see. What does your father and mother think--or rather, what do they +say?” + +“Father always says what he thinks, and mother thinks and says what I +do. This condition simplified matters very much. Basil wrote to father, +and yesterday after dinner he had an interview with him. I expected +it, and was quite prepared for any climax that might come. I wore my +loveliest white frock, and had lilies of the valley in my hair and on +my breast; and father called me ‘his little angel’ and piously wondered +‘how I could be his daughter.’ All dinner time I tried to be angelic, +and after dinner I sang ‘Little Boy Blue’ and some of the songs he +loves; and I felt, when Basil’s card came in, that I had prepared the +proper atmosphere for the interview.” + +“You are really very clever, Dora.” + +“I tried to continue singing and playing, but I could not; the notes all +ran together, the words were lost. I went to mother’s side and put my +hand in hers, and she said softly: ‘I can hear your father storming a +little, but he will settle down the quicker for it. I dare say he will +bring Mr. Stanhope in here before long.” + +“Did he?” + +“No. That was Bryce’s fault. How Bryce happened to be in the house at +that hour, I cannot imagine; but it seems to be natural for him to drop +into any interview where he can make trouble. However, it turned out all +for the best, for when mother heard Bryce’s voice above all the other +sounds, she said, ‘Come Dora, we shall have to interfere now.’ Then +I was delighted. I was angelically dressed, and I felt equal to the +interview.” + +“Do you really mean that you joined the three quarreling men?” + +“Of course. Mother was quite calm--calm enough to freeze a tempest--but +she gave father a look he comprehended. Then she shook hands with +Basil, and would have made some remark to Bryce, but with his usual +impertinence he took the initiative, and told he: very authoritatively +to ‘retire and take me with her’--calling me that ‘demure little flirt’ +in a tone that was very offensive. You should have seen father blaze +into anger at his words. He told Bryce to remember that ‘Mr. Ben Denning +owned the house, and that Bryce had four or five rooms in it by his +courtesy.’ He said also that the ‘ladies present were Mr. Ben Denning’s +wife and daughter, and that it was impertinent in him to order them out +of his parlor, where they were always welcome.’ Bryce was white with +passion, but he answered in his affected way--‘Sir, that sly girl with +her pretended piety and her sneak of a lover is my sister, and I shall +not permit her to disgrace my family without making a protest.’” + +“And then?” + +“I began to cry, and I put my arms around father’s neck and said he must +defend me; that I was not ‘sly,’ and Basil was not ‘a sneak,’ and father +kissed me, and said he would settle with any man, and every man, who +presumed to call me either sly or a flirt.” + +“I think Mr. Denning acted beautifully. What did Bryce say?” + +“He turned to Basil, and said: ‘Mr. Stanhope, if you are not a cad, you +will leave the house. You have no right to intrude yourself into family +affairs and family quarrels.’ Basil had seated mother, and was +standing with one hand on the back of her chair, and he did not answer +Bryce--there was no need, father answered quick enough. He said Mr. +Stanhope had asked to become one of the family, and for his part he +would welcome him freely; and then he asked mother if she was of his +mind, and mother smiled and reached her hand backward to Basil. Then +father kissed me again, and somehow Basil’s arm was round me, and I know +I looked lovely--almost like a bride! Oh, Ethel, it was just heavenly!” + +“I am sure it was. Did Bryce leave the room then?” + +“Yes; he went out in a passion, declaring he would never notice me +again. This morning at breakfast I said I was sorry Bryce felt so hurt, +but father was sure Bryce would find plenty of consolation in the fact +that his disapproval of my choice would excuse him from giving me a +wedding present. You know Bryce is a mean little miser!” + +“On the contrary, I thought he was very; luxurious and extravagant.” + +“Where Bryce is concerned, yes; toward everyone else his conduct is too +mean to consider. Why, father makes him an allowance of $20,000 a year +and he empties father’s cigar boxes whenever he can do so without----” + +“Let us talk about Mr. Stanhope he is far more interesting. When are you +going to marry him?” + +“In the Spring. Father is going to give me some money and I have the +fortune Grandmother Cahill left me. It has been well invested, and +father told me this morning I was a fairly rich little woman. Basil has +some private fortune, also his stipend--we shall do very well. Basil’s +family is one of the finest among the old Boston aristocrats, and he is +closely connected with the English Stanhopes, who rank with the greatest +of the nobility.” + +“I wish Americans would learn to rely on their own nobility. I am tired +of their everlasting attempts to graft on some English noble family. +No matter how great or clever a man may be, you are sure to read of his +descent from some Scottish chief or English earl.” + +“They can’t help their descent, Ethel.” + +“They need not pin all they have done on to it. Often father frets me in +the same way. If he wins a difficult case, he does it naturally, because +he is a Rawdon. He is handsome, gentlemanly, honorable, even a perfect +horseman, all because, being a Rawdon, he was by nature and inheritance +compelled to such perfection. It is very provoking, Dora, and if I +were you I would not allow Basil to begin a song about ‘the English +Stanhopes.’ Aunt Ruth and I get very tired often of the English Rawdons, +and are really thankful for the separating Atlantic.” + +“I don’t think I shall feel in that way, Ethel. I like the nobility; so +does father, he says the Dennings are a fine old family.” + +“Why talk of genealogies when there is such a man as Basil Stanhope to +consider? Let us grant him perfection and agree that he is to marry +you in the Spring; well then, there is the ceremony, and the wedding +garments! Of course it is to be a church wedding?” + +“We shall be married in Basil’s own church. I can hardly eat or sleep +for thinking of the joy and the triumph of it! There will be women there +ready to eat their hearts with envy--I believe indeed, Ethel, that every +woman in the church is in love with Basil.” + +“You have said that before, and I am sure you are wrong. A great many of +them are married and are in love with their own husbands; and the kind +of girls who go to St. Jude’s are not the kind who marry clergymen. Mr. +Stanhope’s whole income would hardly buy their gloves and parasols.” + +“I don’t think you are pleased that I am going to marry. You must not be +jealous of Basil. I shall love you just the same.” + +“Under no conditions, Dora, would I allow jealousy to trouble my life. +All the same, you will not love me after your marriage as you have loved +me in the past. I shall not expect it.” + +Passionate denials of this assertion, reminiscences of the past, +assurances for the future followed, and Ethel accepted them without +dispute and without faith. But she understood that the mere circumstance +of her engagement was all that Dora could manage at present; and +that the details of the marriage merged themselves constantly in the +wonderful fact that Basil Stanhope loved her, and that some time, not +far off, she was going to be his wife. This joyful certainty filled her +heart and her comprehension, and she had a natural reluctance to subject +it to the details of the social and religious ceremonies necessary, Such +things permitted others to participate in her joy, and she resented the +idea. For a time she wished to keep her lover in a world where no other +thought might trouble the thought of Dora. + +Ethel understood her friend’s mood, and was rather relieved when her +carriage arrived. She felt that her presence was preventing Dora’s +absolute surrender of herself to thoughts of her lover, and all the way +home she marveled at the girl’s infatuation, and wondered if it would +be possible for her to fall into such a dotage of love for any man. She +answered this query positively--“No, if I should lose my heart, I shall +not therefore lose my head”--and then, before she could finish assuring +herself of her determinate wisdom, some mocking lines she had often +quoted to love-sick girls went laughing through her memory-- + + “O Woman! Woman! O our frail, frail sex! + No wonder tragedies are made from us! + Always the same--nothing but loves and cradles.” + + +She found Ruth Bayard dressed for dinner, but her father was not +present. That was satisfactory, for he was always a little impatient +when the talk was of lovers and weddings; and just then this topic was +uppermost in Ethel’s mind. + +“Ruth,” she said, “Dora is engaged,” and then in a few sentences she +told the little romance Dora had lived for the past year, and its happy +culmination. “Setting money aside, I think he will make a very suitable +husband. What do you think, Ruth?” + +“From what I know of Mr. Stanhope, I should doubt it. I am sure he +will put his duties before every earthly thing, and I am sure Dora will +object to that. Then I wonder if Dora is made on a pattern large enough +to be the moneyed partner in matrimony. I should think Mr. Stanhope was +a proud man.” + +“Dora says he is connected with the English noble family of Stanhopes.” + +“We shall certainly have all the connections of the English nobility in +America very soon now--but why does he marry Dora? Is it her money?” + +“I think not. I have heard from various sources some fine things of +Basil Stanhope. There are many richer girls than Dora in St. Jude’s. I +dare say some one of them would have married him.” + +“You are mistaken. Do you think Margery Starey, Jane Lewes, or any of +the girls of their order would marry a man with a few thousands a +year? And to marry for love is beyond the frontiers of such women’s +intelligence. In their creed a husband is a banker, not a man to be +loved and cared for. You know how much of a banker Mr. Stanhope could +be.” + +“Bryce Denning is very angry at what he evidently considers his sister’s +mesalliance.” + +“If Mr. Stanhope is connected with the English Stanhopes, the +mesalliance must be laid to his charge.” + +“Indeed the Dennings have some pretenses to good lineage, and Bryce +spoke of his sister ‘disgracing his family by her contemplated +marriage.’” + +“His family! My dear Ethel, his grandfather was a manufacturer of +tin tacks. And now that we have got as far away as the Denning’s +grandfather, suppose we drop the subject.” + +“Content; I am a little tired of the clan Denning--that is their +original name Dora says. I will go now and dress for dinner.” + +Then Ruth rose and looked inquisitively around the room. It was as she +wished it to be--the very expression of elegant comfort--warm and light, +and holding the scent of roses: a place of deep, large chairs with no +odds and ends to worry about, a room to lounge and chat in, and where +the last touch of perfect home freedom was given by a big mastiff who, +having heard the door-bell ring, strolled in to see who had called. + + + +CHAPTER II + +DURING dinner both Ruth and Ethel were aware of some sub-interest in the +Judge’s manner; his absent-mindedness was unusual, and once Ruth saw a +faint smile that nothing evident could have induced. Unconsciously also +he set a tone of constraint and hurry; the meal was not loitered over, +the conversation flagged, and all rose from the table with a sense of +relief; perhaps, indeed, with a feeling of expectation. + +They entered the parlor together, and the mastiff rose to meet them, +asking permission to remain with the little coaxing push of his nose +which brought the ready answer: + +“Certainly, Sultan. Make yourself comfortable.” + +Then they grouped themselves round the fire, and the Judge lit his cigar +and looked at Ethel in a way that instantly brought curiosity to the +question: + +“You have a secret, father,” she said. “Is it about grandmother?” + +“It is news rather than a secret, Ethel. And grandmother has a good deal +to do with it, for it is about her family--the Mostyns.” + +“Oh!” + +The tone of Ethel’s “Oh!” was not encouraging, and Ruth’s look of +interest held in abeyance was just as chilling. But something like this +attitude had been expected, and Judge Rawdon was not discouraged by it; +he knew that youth is capable of great and sudden changes, and that its +ability to find reasonable motives for them is unlimited, so he calmly +continued: + +“You are aware that your grandmother’s name before marriage was Rachel +Mostyn?” + +“I have seen it a thousand times at the bottom of her sampler, father, +the one that is framed and hanging in her morning room--Rachel Mostyn, +November, Anno Domini, 1827.” + +“Very well. She married George Rawdon, and they came to New York in +1834. They had a pretty house on the Bowling Green and lived very +happily there. I was born in 1850, the youngest of their children. You +know that I sign my name Edward M. Rawdon; it is really Edward Mostyn +Rawdon.” + +He paused, and Ruth said, “I suppose Mrs. Rawdon has had some news from +her old home?” + +“She had a letter last night, and I shall probably receive one +to-morrow. Frederick Mostyn, her grand-nephew, is coming to New York, +and Squire Rawdon, of Rawdon Manor, writes to recommend the young man to +our hospitality.” + +“But you surely do not intend to invite him here, Edward. I think that +would not do.” + +“He is going to the Holland House. But he is our kinsman, and therefore +we must be hospitable.” + +“I have been trying to count the kinship. It is out of my reckoning,” + said Ethel. “I hope at least he is nice and presentable.” + +“The Mostyns are a handsome family. Look at your grandmother. And Squire +Rawdon speaks very well of Mr. Mostyn. He has taken the right side +in politics, and is likely to make his mark. They were always great +sportsmen, and I dare say this representative of the family is a +good-looking fellow, well-mannered, and perfectly dressed.” + +Ethel laughed. “If his clothes fit him he will be an English wonder. I +have seen lots of Englishmen; they are all frights as to trousers and +vests. There was Lord Wycomb, his broadcloths and satins and linen were +marvels in quality, but the make! The girls hated to be seen walking +with him, and he would walk--‘good for the constitution,’ was his +explanation for all his peculiarities. The Caylers were weary to death +of them.” + +“And yet,” said Ruth, “they sang songs of triumph when Lou Cayler +married him.” + +“That was a different thing. Lou would make him get ‘fits’ and stop +wearing sloppy, baggy arrangements. And I do not suppose the English +lord has now a single peculiarity left, unless it be his constitutional +walk--that, of course. I have heard English babies get out of their +cradles to take a constitutional.” + +During this tirade Ruth had been thinking. “Edward,” she asked, “why +does Squire Rawdon introduce Mr. Mostyn? Their relationship cannot be +worth counting.” + +“There you are wrong, Ruth.” He spoke with a little excitement. +“Englishmen never deny matrimonial relationships, if they are worthy +ones. Mostyn and Rawdon are bound together by many a gold wedding ring; +we reckon such ties relationships. Squire Raw-don lost his son and his +two grandsons a year ago. Perhaps this young man may eventually stand +in their place. The Squire is nearly eighty years old; he is the last of +the English Rawdons--at least of our branch of it.” + +“You suppose this Mr. Mostyn may become Squire of Rawdon Manor?” + +“He may, Ruth, but it is not certain. There is a large mortgage on the +Manor.” + +“Oh!” + +Both girls made the ejaculation at the same moment, and in both voices +there was the same curious tone of speculation. It was a cry after +truth apprehended, but not realized. Mr. Rawdon remained silent; he was +debating with himself the advisability of further confidence, but +he came quickly to the conclusion that enough had been told for the +present. Turning to Ethel, he said: “I suppose girls have a code of +honor about their secrets. Is Dora Denning’s ‘extraordinary news’ shut +up in it?” + +“Oh, no, father. She is going to be married. That is all.” + +“That is enough. Who is the man?” + +“Reverend Mr. Stanhope.” + +“Nonsense!” + +“Positively.” + +“I never heard anything more ridiculous. That saintly young priest! Why, +Dora will be tired to death of him in a month. And he? Poor fellow!” + +“Why poor fellow? He is very much in love with her.” + +“It is hard to understand. St. Jerome’s love ‘pale with midnight prayer’ +would be more believable than the butterfly Dora. Goodness, gracious! +The idea of that man being in love! It pulls him down a bit. I thought +he never looked at a woman.” + +“Do you know him, father?” + +“As many people know him--by good report. I know that he is a clergyman +who believes what he preaches. I know a Wall Street broker who left St. +Jude’s church because Mr. Stanhope’s sermons on Sunday put such a fine +edge on his conscience that Mondays were dangerous days for him to do +business on. And whatever Wall Street financiers think of the Bible +personally, they do like a man who sticks to his colors, and who holds +intact the truth committed to him. Stanhope does this emphatically; and +he is so well trusted that if he wanted to build a new church he could +get all the money necessary, from Wall Street men in an hour. And he is +going to marry! Going to marry Dora Denning! It is ‘extraordinary news,’ +indeed!” + +Ethel was a little offended at such unusual surprise. “I think you don’t +quite understand Dora,” she said. “It will be Mr. Stanhope’s fault +if she is not led in the right way; for if he only loves and pets her +enough he may do all he wishes with her. I know, I have both coaxed and +ordered her for four years--sometimes one way is best, and sometimes the +other.” + +“How is a man to tell which way to take? What do her parents think of +the marriage?” + +“They are pleased with it.” + +“Pleased with it! Then I have nothing more to say, except that I hope +they will not appeal to me on any question of divorce that may arise +from such an unlikely marriage.” + +“They are only lovers yet, Edward,” said Ruth. “It is not fair, or kind, +to even think of divorce.” + +“My dear Ruth, the fashionable girl of today accepts marriage with the +provision of divorce.” + +“Dora is hardly one of that set.” + +“I hope she may keep out of it, but marriage will give her many +opportunities. Well, I am sorry for the young priest. He isn’t fit to +manage a woman like Dora Denning. I am afraid he will get the worst of +it.” + +“I think you are very unkind, father. Dora is my friend, and I know her. +She is a girl of intense feelings and very affectionate. And she has +dissolved all her life and mind in Mr. Stanhope’s life and mind, just as +a lump of sugar is dissolved in water.” + +Ruth laughed. “Can you not find a more poetic simile, Ethel?” + +“It will do. This is an age of matter; a material symbol is the proper +thing.” + +“I am glad to hear she has dissolved her mind in Stanhope’s,” said Judge +Rawdon. “Dora’s intellect in itself is childish. What did the man see in +her that he should desire her?” + +“Father, you never can tell how much brains men like with their beauty. +Very little will do generally. And Dora has beauty--great beauty; no one +can deny that. I think Dora is giving up a great deal. To her, at least, +marriage is a state of passing from perfect freedom into the comparative +condition of a slave, giving up her own way constantly for some one +else’s way.” + +“Well, Ethel, the remedy is in the lady’s hands. She is not forced to +marry, and the slavery that is voluntary is no hardship. Now, my dear, I +have a case to look over, and you must excuse me to-night. To-morrow we +shall know more concerning Mr. Mostyn, and it is easier to talk about +certainties than probabilities.” + +But if conversation ceased about Mr. Mostyn, thought did not; for, a +couple of hours afterwards, Ethel tapped at her aunt’s door and said, +“Just a moment, Ruth.” + +“Yes, dear, what is it?” + +“Did you notice what father said about the mortgage on Rawdon Manor”’ + +“Yes.” + +“He seemed to know all about it.” + +“I think he does know all about it.” + +“Do you think he holds it?” + +“He may do so--it is not unlikely.” + +“Oh! Then Mr. Fred Mostyn, if he is to inherit Rawdon, would like the +mortgage removed?” + +“Of course he would.” + +“And the way to remove it would be to marry the daughter of the holder +of the mortgage?” + +“It would be one way.” + +“So he is coming to look me over. I am a matrimonial possibility. How do +you like that idea, Aunt Ruth?” + +“I do not entertain it for a moment. Mr. Mostyn may not even know of the +mortgage. When men mortgage their estates they do not make confidences +about the matter, or talk it over with their friends. They always +conceal and hide the transaction. If your father holds the mortgage, I +feel sure that no one but himself and Squire Rawdon know anything about +it. Don’t look at the wrong side of events, Ethel; be content with the +right side of life’s tapestry. Why are you not asleep? What are you +worrying about?” + +“Nothing, only I have not heard all I wanted to hear.” + +“And perhaps that is good for you.” + +“I shall go and see grandmother first thing in the morning.” + +“I would not if I were you. You cannot make any excuse she will not see +through. Your father will call on Mr. Mostyn to-morrow, and we shall get +unprejudiced information.” + +“Oh, I don’t know that, Ruth. Father is intensely American three hundred +and sixty-four days and twenty-three hours in a year, and then in the +odd hour he will flare up Yorkshire like a conflagration.” + +“English, you mean?” + +“No. Yorkshire IS England to grandmother and father. They don’t think +anything much of the other counties, and people from them are just +respectable foreigners. You may depend upon it, whatever grandmother +says of Mr. Fred Mostyn, father will believe it, too.” + +“Your father always believes whatever your grandmother says. Good night, +dear.” + +“Good night. I think I shall go to grandmother in the morning. I +know how to manage her. I shall meet her squarely with the truth, and +acknowledge that I am dying with curiosity about Mr. Mostyn.” + +“And she will tease and lecture you, say you are ‘not sweetheart high +yet, only a little maid,’ and so on. Far better go and talk with Dora. +To-morrow she will need you, I am sure. Ethel, I am very sleepy. Good +night again, dear.” + +“Good night!” Then with a sudden animation, “I know what to do, I shall +tell grandmother about Dora’s marriage. It is all plain enough now. +Good night, Ruth.” And this good night, though dropping sweetly into the +minor third, had yet on its final inflection something of the +pleasant hopefulness of its major key--it expressed anticipation and +satisfaction. + +What happened in the night session she could not tell, but she awoke +with a positive disinclination to ask a question about Mr. Mostyn. “I +have received orders from some one,” she said to Ruth; “I simply do not +care whether I ever see or hear of the man again. I am going to Dora, +and I may not come home until late. You know they will depend upon me +for every suggestion.” + +In fact, Ethel did not return home until the following day, for a +snowstorm came up in the afternoon, and the girl was weary with planning +and writing, and well inclined to eat with Dora the delicate little +dinner served to them in Dora’s private parlor. Then about nine o’clock +Mr. Stanhope called, and Ethel found it pleasant enough to watch the +lovers and listen to Mrs. Denning’s opinions of what had been already +planned. And the next day she seemed to be so absolutely necessary +to the movement of the marriage preparations, that it was nearly dark +before she was permitted to return home. + +It was but a short walk between the two houses, and Ethel was resolved +to have the refreshment of the exercise. And how good it was to feel the +pinch of the frost and the gust of the north wind, and after it to come +to the happy portal of home, and the familiar atmosphere of the cheerful +hall, and then to peep into the firelit room in which Ruth lay dreaming +in the dusky shadows. + +“Ruth, darling!” + +“Ethel! I have just sent for you to come home.” Then she rose and took +Ethel in her arms. “How delightfully cold you are! And what rosy cheeks! +Do you know that we have a little dinner party?” + +“Mr. Mostyn?” + +“Yes, and your grandmother, and perhaps Dr. Fisher--the Doctor is not +certain.” + +“And I see that you are already dressed. How handsome you look! That +black lace dress, with the dull gold ornaments, is all right.” + +“I felt as if jewels would be overdress for a family dinner.” + +“Yes, but jewels always snub men so completely. It is not altogether +that they represent money; they give an air of royalty, and a woman +without jewels is like an uncrowned queen--she does not get the homage. +I can’t account for it, but there it is. I shall wear my sapphire +necklace. What did father say about our new kinsman?” + +“Very little. It was impossible to judge from his words what he thought. +I fancied that he might have been a little disappointed.” + +“I should not wonder. We shall see.” + +“You will be dressed in an hour?” + +“In less time. Shall I wear white or blue?” + +“Pale blue and white flowers. There are some white violets in the +library. I have a red rose. We shall contrast each other very well.” + +“What is it all about? Do we really care how we look in the eyes of this +Mr. Mostyn?” + +“Of course we care. We should not be women if we did not care. We must +make some sort of an impression, and naturally we prefer that it should +be a pleasant one.” + +“If we consider the mortgage----” + +“Nonsense! The mortgage is not in it.” + +“Good-by. Tell Mattie to bring me a cup of tea upstairs. I will be +dressed in an hour.” + +The tea was brought and drank, and Ethel fell asleep while her maid +prepared every item for her toilet. Then she spoke to her mistress, and +Ethel awakened, as she always did, with a smile; nature’s surest sign of +a radically sweet temper. And everything went in accord with the smile; +her hair fell naturally into its most becoming waves, her dress into its +most graceful folds; the sapphire necklace matched the blue of her happy +eyes, the roses of youth were on her cheeks, and white violets on her +breast. She felt her own beauty and was glad of it, and with a laughing +word of pleasure went down to the parlor. + +Madam Rawdon was standing before the fire, but when she heard the door +open she turned her face toward it. + +“Come here, Ethel Rawdon,” she said, “and let me have a look at you.” + And Ethel went to her side, laid her hand lightly on the old lady’s +shoulder and kissed her cheek. “You do look middling well,” she +continued, “and your dress is about as it should be. I like a girl to +dress like a girl--still, the sapphires. Are they necessary?” + +“You would not say corals, would you, grandmother? I have those you gave +me when I was three years old.” + +“Keep your wit, my dear, for this evening. I should not wonder but you +might need it. Fred Mostyn is rather better than I expected. It was a +great pleasure to see him. It was like a bit of my own youth back again. +When you are a very old woman there are few things sweeter, Ethel.” + +“But you are not an old woman, grandmother.” + +Nor was she. In spite of her seventy-five years she stood erect at the +side of her grand-daughter. Her abundant hair was partly gray, but the +gray mingled with the little oval of costly lace that lay upon it, and +the effect was soft and fair as powdering. She had been very handsome, +and her beauty lingered as the beauty of some flowers linger, in fainter +tints and in less firm outlines; for she had never fallen from that +“grace of God vouchsafed to children,” and therefore she had kept not +only the enthusiasms of her youth, but that sweet promise of the “times +of restitution” when the child shall die one hundred years old, because +the child-heart shall be kept in all its freshness and trust. Yes, in +Rachel Rawdon’s heart the well-springs of love and life lay too deep for +the frosts of age to touch. She would be eternally young before she grew +old. + +She sat down as Ethel spoke, and drew the girl to her side. “I hear your +friend is going to marry,” she said. + +“Dora? Yes.” + +“Are you sorry?” + +“Perhaps not. Dora has been a care to me for four years. I hope her +husband may manage her as well as I have done.” + +“Are you afraid he will not?” + +“I cannot tell, grandmother. I see all Dora’s faults. Mr. Stanhope is +certain that she has no faults. Hitherto she has had her own way in +everything. Excepting myself, no one has ventured to contradict her. +But, then, Dora is over head and ears in love, and love, it is said, +makes all things easy to bear and to do.” + +“One thing, girls, amazes me--it is how readily women go to church and +promise to love, honor, and obey their husbands, when they never intend +to do anything of the kind.” + +“There is a still more amazing thing, Madam,” answered Ruth; “that is +that men should be so foolish as to think, or hope, they perhaps might +do so.” + +“Old-fashioned women used to manage it some way or other, Ruth. But the +old-fashioned woman was a very soft-hearted creature, and, maybe, it was +just as well that she was.” + +“But Woman’s Dark Ages are nearly over, Madam; and is not the New Woman +a great improvement on the Old Woman?” + +“I haven’t made up my mind yet, Ruth, about the New Woman. I notice one +thing that a few of the new kind have got into their pretty heads, and +that is, that they ought to have been men; and they have followed up +that idea so far that there is now very little difference in their +looks, and still less in their walk; they go stamping along with the +step of an athlete and the stride of a peasant on fresh plowed fields. +It is the most hideous of walks imaginable. The Grecian bend, which +you cannot remember, but may have heard of, was a lackadaisical, vulgar +walking fad, but it was grace itself compared with the hideous stride +which the New Woman has acquired on the golf links or somewhere else.” + +“But men stamp and stride in the same way, grandmother.” + +“A long stride suits a man’s anatomy well enough; it does not suit a +woman’s--she feels every stride she takes, I’ll warrant her.” + +“If she plays golf----” + +“My dear Ethel, there is no need for her to play golf. It is a man’s +game and was played for centuries by men only. In Scotland, the home of +golf, it was not thought nice for women to even go to the links, because +of the awful language they were likely to hear.” + +“Then, grandmother, is it not well for ladies to play golf if it keeps +men from using ‘awful language’ to each other?” + +“God love you, child! Men will think what they dare not speak.” + +“If we could only have some new men!” sighed Ethel. “The lover of to-day +is just what a girl can pick up; he has no wit and no wisdom and no +illusions. He talks of his muscles and smells of cigarettes--perhaps +of whisky”--and at these words, Judge Rawdon, accompanied by Mr. Fred +Mostyn, entered the room. + +The introductions slipped over easily, they hardly seemed to be +necessary, and the young man took the chair offered as naturally as +if he had sat by the hearth all his life. There was no pause and no +embarrassment and no useless polite platitudes; and Ethel’s first +feeling about her kinsman was one of admiration for the perfect ease and +almost instinctive at-homeness with which he took his place. He had come +to his own and his own had received him; that was the situation, a very +pleasant one, which he accepted with the smiling trust that was at once +the most perfect and polite of acknowledgments. + +“So you do not enjoy traveling?” said Judge Rawdon as if continuing a +conversation. + +“I think it the most painful way of taking pleasure, sir--that is the +actual transit. And sleeping cars and electric-lighted steamers and +hotels do not mitigate the suffering. If Dante was writing now he might +depict a constant round of personally conducted tours in Purgatory. +I should think the punishment adequate for any offense. But I like +arriving at places. New York has given me a lot of new sensations +to-day, and I have forgotten the transit troubles already.” + +He talked well and temperately, and yet Ethel could not avoid the +conclusion that he was a man of positive character and uncompromising +prejudices. And she also felt a little disappointed in his personality, +which contradicted her ideal of a Yorkshire squire. For he was small and +slender in stature, and his face was keen and thin, from the high +cheek bones to the sharp point of the clean-shaven chin. Yet it was +an interesting face, for the brows were broad and the eyes bright +and glancing. That his nature held the opposite of his qualities was +evident from the mouth, which was composed and discreet and generally +clothed with a frank smile, negatived by the deep, sonorous voice which +belongs to the indiscreet and quarrelsome. His dress was perfect. Ethel +could find no fault in it, except the monocle which he did not use once +during the evening, and which she therefore decided was a quite idle and +unhandsome adjunct. + +One feature of his character was definite--he was a home-loving man. +He liked the society of women with whom he could be familiar, and +he preferred the company of books and music to fashionable social +functions. This pleasant habit of domesticity was illustrated during +the evening by an accidental incident--a noisy, mechanical street +organ stopped before the windows, and in a blatant manner began its +performance. Conversation was paralyzed by the intrusion and when it +was removed Judge Rawdon said: “What a democratic, leveling, aggressive +thing music is! It insists on being heard. It is always in the way, +it thrusts itself upon you, whether you want it or not. Now art is +different. You go to see pictures when you wish to.” + +Mostyn did not notice the criticism on music itself, but added in a +soft, disapproving way: “That man has no music in him. Do you know that +was one of Mendelssohn’s delicious dreams. This is how it should have +been rendered,” and he went impulsively to the piano and then the sweet +monotonous cadences and melodious reveries slipped from his long white +fingers till the whole room was permeated with a delicious sense of +moonlit solitude and conversation was stilled in its languor. The young +man had played his own dismissal, but it was an effective one, and +he complimented himself on his readiness to seize opportunities for +display, and on his genius in satisfying them. + +“I think I astonished them a little,” he mused, “and I wonder what that +pretty, cousin of mine thought of the music and the musician. I fancy we +shall be good friends; she is proud--that is no fault; and she has very +decided opinions--which might be a great fault; but I think I rather +astonished them.” + +To such reflections he stepped rather pompously down the avenue, not at +all influenced by any premonition that his satisfactory feelings +might be imperfectly shared. Yet silence was the first result of his +departure. Judge Rawdon took out his pocketbook and began to study its +entries. Ruth Bayard rose and closed the piano. Ethel lifted a magazine, +while it was Madam who finally asked in an impatient tone: + +“What do you think of Frederick? I suppose, Edward, you have an opinion. +Isn’t he a very clever man?” + +“I should not wonder if he were, mother, clever to a fault.” + +“I never heard a young man talk better.” + +“He talked a great deal, but then, you know, he was not on his oath.” + +“I’ll warrant every word he said.” + +“Your warrant is fine surety, mother, but I am not bound to believe all +I hear. You women can please yourselves.” + +And with these words he left the women to find out, if they could, what +manner of man their newly-found kinsman might be. + + +* * * * * + + + +CHAPTER III + +ONE of the most comfortable things about Frederick Mostyn was his almost +boyish delight in the new life which New York opened to him. Every phase +of it was so fresh, so unusual, that his Yorkshire existence at Mostyn +Hall gave him no precedents and no experiences by which to measure +events. The simplest things were surprising or interesting. He was never +weary of taking those exciting “lifts” to the top of twenty-three story +buildings and admiring the wonderful views such altitudes gave him. He +did not perhaps comprehend how much he was influenced by the friction +of two million wills and interests; did not realize how they evoked +an electric condition that got behind the foreground of existence and +stirred something more at the roots of his being than any previous +experience had ever done. And this feeling was especially entrancing +when he saw the great city and majestic river lying at his feet in the +white, uncanny light of electricity, all its color gone, its breath +cold, its life strangely remote and quiet, men moving like shadows, +and sounds hollow and faint and far off, as if they came from a distant +world. It gave him a sense of dreamland quite as much as that of +reality. The Yorkshire moors and words grew dull and dreary in his +memory; even the thought of the hunting field could not lure his desire. +New York was full of marvelous novelties; its daily routine, even in the +hotel and on the streets, gripped his heart and his imagination; and he +confessed to himself that New York was life at first hand; fresh drawn, +its very foam sparkling and intoxicating. He walked from the Park to the +Battery and examined all that caught his eye. He had a history of +the city and sought out every historical site; he even went over to +Weehawken, and did his best to locate the spot where Burr and Hamilton +fought. He admired Hamilton, but after reading all about the two men, +gave his sympathy to Burr, “a clever, unlucky little chap,” he said. +“Why do clever men hate each other?” and then he smiled queerly as he +remembered political enemies of great men in his own day and his own +country; and concluded that “it was their nature to do so.” + +But in these outside enthusiasms he did not forget his personal +relations. It took him but a few days to domesticate himself in both the +Rawdon houses. When the weather drove him off the streets, he found a +pleasant refuge either with Madam or with Ethel and Miss Bayard. Ethel +he saw less frequently than he liked; she was nearly always with Dora +Denning, but with Ruth Bayard he contracted a very pleasant friendship. +He told her all his adventures and found her more sympathetic than Madam +ever pretended to be. Madam thought him provincial in his tastes, and +was better pleased to hear that he had a visiting entry at two good +clubs, and had hired a motor ear, and was learning how to manage it. +Then she told herself that if he was good to her, she would buy him one +to be proud of before he returned to Yorkshire. + +It was at the Elite Club Bryce Denning first saw him. He came in with +Shaw McLaren, a young man whose acquaintance was considered as most +definitely satisfactory. Vainly Bryce Denning had striven to obtain any +notice whatever from McLaren, whose exclusiveness was proverbial. Who +then was this stranger he appeared so anxious to entertain? His look of +supreme satisfaction, his high-bred air, and peculiar intonation quickly +satisfied Bryce as to his nationality. + +“English, of course,” he reflected, “and probably one of the aristocrats +that Shaw meets at his recently ennobled sister’s place. He is forever +bragging about them. I must find out who Shaw’s last British lion is,” + and just as he arrived at this decision the person appeared who could +satisfy him. + +“That man!” was the reply to the inevitable question--“why, he is some +relative of the old lady Rawdon. He is staying at the Holland House, +but spends his time with the Rawdons, old and young; the young one is a +beauty, you know.” + +“Do you think so? She is a good deal at our house. I suppose the fellow +has some pretentions. Judge Rawdon will be a man hard to satisfy with a +son-in-law.” + +“I fancy his daughter will take that subject in her own hand. She +looks like a girl of spirit; and this man is not as handsome as most +Englishmen.” + +“Not if you judge him by bulk, but women want more than mere bulk; he +has an air of breeding you can’t mistake, and he looks clever.” + +“His name is Mostyn. I have heard him spoken of. Would you like to know +him?” + +“I could live without that honor”--then Bryce turned the conversation +upon a recent horse sale, and a few moments later was sauntering up the +avenue. He was now resolved to make up his quarrel with Dora. Through +Dora he could manage to meet Mostyn socially, and he smiled in +anticipation of that proud moment when he should parade in his own +friendly leash McLaren’s new British lion. Besides, the introduction to +Mr. Mostyn might, if judiciously managed, promote his own acquaintance +with Shaw McLaren, a sequence to be much desired; an end he had +persistently looked for. + +He went straight to his sister’s apartments and touched the bell quite +gently. Her maid opened the door and looked annoyed and uncertain. She +knew all about the cruelly wicked opposition of Miss Denning’s brother +to that nice young man, Basil Stanhope; and also the general attitude of +the Denning household, which was a comprehensive disapproval of all that +Mr. Bryce said and did. + +Dora had, however, talked all her anger away; she wished now to be +friends with her brother. She knew that his absence from her wedding +would cause unpleasant notice, and she had other reasons, purely +selfish, all emphasizing the advantages of a reconciliation. So she went +to meet Bryce with a pretty, pathetic air of injury patiently endured, +and when Bryce put out his hands and said, “Forgive me, Dodo! I cannot +bear your anger any longer!” she was quite ready for the next act, which +was to lay her pretty head on his shoulder and murmur, “I am not angry, +Bryce--I am grieved, dear.” + +“I know, Dodo--forgive me! It was all my fault. I think I was jealous of +you; it was hard to find that you loved a stranger better than you loved +me. Kiss me, and be my own sweet, beautiful sister again. I shall try to +like all the people you like--for your sake, you know.” + +Then Dora was charming. She sat and talked and planned and told him +all that had been done and all that was yet to do. And Bryce never +once named either Ethel or Mr. Mostyn. He knew Dora was a shrewd little +woman, and that he would have to be very careful in introducing the +subject of Mr. Mostyn, or else she would be sure to reach the central +truth of his submission to her. But, somehow, things happen for those +who are content to leave their desires to contingencies and accidentals. +The next morning he breakfasted with the family and felt himself +repaid for his concession to Dora by the evident pleasure their renewed +affection gave his father and mother; and though the elder Denning +made no remark in the renewed family solidarity, Bryce anticipated many +little favors and accommodations from his father’s satisfaction. + +After breakfast he sat down, lit his cigar and waited. Both his mother +and Dora had much to tell him, and he listened, and gave them such +excellent advice that they were compelled to regret the arrangements +already made had lacked the benefit of his counsels. + +“But you had Ethel Rawdon,” he said. “I thought she was everybody rolled +into one.” + +“Oh, Ethel doesn’t know as much as she thinks she does,” said Mrs. +Denning. “I don’t agree with lots of things she advises.” + +“Then take my advice, mother.” + +“Oh, Bryce, it is the best of all.” + +“Bryce does not know about dress and such things, mother. Ethel finds +out what she does not know. Bryce cannot go to modistes and milliners +with me.” + +“Well, Ethel does not pay as much attention as she might--she is +always going somewhere or other with that Englishman, that she says is a +relative--for my part, I doubt it.” + +“Oh, mother!” + +“Girls will say anything, Dora, to hide a love affair. Why does she +never bring him here to call?” + +“Because I asked her not. I do not want to make new friends, especially +English ones, now. I am so busy all day, and of course my evenings +belong to Basil.” + +“Yes, and there is no one to talk to me. Ethel and the Englishman +would pass an hour or two very nicely, and your father is very fond of +foreigners. I think you ought to ask Ethel to introduce him to us; +then we could have a little dinner for him and invite him to our opera +box--don’t you agree with me, Bryce?” + +“If Dora does. Of course, at this time, Dora’s wishes and engagements +are the most important. I have seen the young man at the club with Shaw +McLaren and about town with Judge Rawdon and others. He seems a nice +little fellow. Jack Lacy wanted to introduce me to him yesterday, but I +told him I could live without the honor. Of course, if Dora feels +like having him here that is a very different matter. He is certainly +distinguished looking, and would give an air to the wedding.” + +“Is he handsome, Bryce?” + +“Yes--and no. Women would rave about him; men would think him finical +and dandified. He looks as if he were the happiest fellow in the +world--in fact, he looked to me so provokingly happy that I disliked +him; but now that Dodo is my little sister again, I can be happy enough +to envy no one.” + +Then Dora slipped her hand into her brother’s hand, and Bryce knew that +he might take his way to his little office in William Street, the advent +of Mr. Mostyn into his life being now as certain as anything in this +questionable, fluctuating world could be. As he was sauntering down +the avenue he met Ethel and he turned and walked back with her to the +Denning house. He was so good-natured and so good-humored that Ethel +could not avoid an inquisitive look at the usually glum young man, and +he caught it with a laugh and said, “I suppose you wonder what is the +matter with me, Miss Rawdon?” + +“You look more than usually happy. If I suppose you have found a wife or +a fortune, shall I be wrong?” + +“You come near the truth; I have found a sister. Do you know I am very +fond of Dora and we have made up our quarrel?” + +Then Ethel looked at him again. She did not believe him. She was sure +that Dora was not the only evoker of the unbounded satisfaction in +Bryce Denning’s face and manner. But she let the reason pass; she had +no likely arguments to use against it. And that day Mrs. Denning, with a +slight air of injury, opened the subject of Mr. Mostyn’s introduction to +them. She thought Ethel had hardly treated the Dennings fairly. Everyone +was wondering they had not met him. Of course, she knew they were not +aristocrats and she supposed Ethel was ashamed of them, but, for her +part, she thought they were as good as most people, and if it came to +money, they could put down dollar for dollar with any multi-millionaire +in America, or England either, for that matter. + +When the reproach took this tone there seemed to be only one thing for +Ethel to say or to do; but that one thing was exactly what she did not +say or do. She took up Mrs. Denning’s reproach and complained that “her +relative and friend had been purposely and definitely ignored. Dora had +told her plainly she did not wish to make Mr. Mostyn’s acquaintance; +and, in accord with this feeling, no one in the Denning family had +called on Mr. Mostyn, or shown him the least courtesy. She thought the +whole Rawdon family had the best of reasons for feeling hurt at the +neglect.” + +This view of the case had not entered Mrs. Denning’s mind. She was +quickly sorry and apologetic for Dora’s selfishness and her own +thoughtlessness, and Ethel was not difficult to pacify. There was then +no duty so imperative as the arrangement of a little dinner for Mr. +Mostyn. “We will make it quite a family affair,” said Mrs. Denning, +“then we can go to the opera afterwards. Shall I call on Mr. Mostyn at +the Holland House?” she asked anxiously. + +“I will ask Bryce to call,” said Dora. “Bryce will do anything to please +me now, mother.” + +In this way, Bryce Denning’s desires were all arranged for him, and that +evening Dora made her request. Bryce heard it with a pronounced pout of +his lips, but finally told Dora she was “irresistible,” and as his time +for pleasing her was nearly out, he would even call on the Englishman at +her request. + +“Mind!” he added, “I think he is as proud as Lucifer, and I may get +nothing for my civility but the excuse of a previous engagement.” + +But Bryce Denning expected much more than this, and he got all that he +expected. The young men had a common ground to meet on, and they quickly +became as intimate as ever Frederick Mostyn permitted himself to be with +a stranger. Bryce could hardly help catching enthusiasm from Mostyn on +the subject of New York, and he was able to show his new acquaintance +phases of life in the marvelous city which were of the greatest interest +to the inquisitive Yorkshire squire--Chinese theaters and opium dives; +German, Italian, Spanish, Jewish, French cities sheltering themselves +within the great arms of the great American city; queer restaurants, +where he could eat of the national dishes of every civilized country +under the sun; places of amusement, legal and illegal, and the vast +under side of the evident life--all the uncared for toiling of the +thousands who work through the midnight hours. In these excursions the +young men became in a way familiar, though neither of them ever told the +other the real feelings of their hearts or the real aim of their lives. + +The proposed dinner took place ten days after its suggestion. There was +nothing remarkable in the function itself; all millionaires have +the same delicacies and the same wines, and serve these things with +precisely the same ceremonies. And, as a general thing, the company +follow rigidly ordained laws of conversation. Stories about public +people, remarks about the weather and the opera, are in order; but +original ideas or decided opinions are unpardonable social errors. +Yet even these commonplace events may contain some element that shall +unexpectedly cut a life in two, and so change its aims and desires as +to virtually create a new character. It was Frederick Mostyn who in +this instance underwent this great personal change; a change totally +unexpected and for which he was absolutely unprepared. For the people +gathered in Mrs. Denning’s drawing-room were mostly known to him, and +the exceptions did not appear to possess any remarkable traits, except +Basil Stanhope, who stood thoughtfully at a window, his pale, lofty +beauty wearing an air of expectation. Mostyn decided that he was +naturally impatient for the presence of his fiancee, whose delayed +entrance he perceived was also annoying Ethel. Then there was a slight +movement, a sudden silence, and Mostyn saw Stanhope’s face flush and +turn magically radiant. Mechanically he followed his movement and the +next moment his eyes met Fate, and Love slipped in between. Dora was +there, a fairy-like vision in pale amber draperies, softened with silk +lace. Diamonds were in her wonderfully waved hair and round her fair +white neck. They clasped her belt and adorned the instep of her little +amber silk slippers. She held a yellow rose in her hand, and yellow +rosebuds lay among the lace at her bosom, and Mostyn, stupefied by her +undreamed-of loveliness, saw golden emanations from the clear pallor of +her face. He felt for a moment or two as if he should certainly faint; +only by a miracle of stubborn will did he drag his consciousness from +that golden-tinted, sparkling haze of beauty which had smitten him like +an enchantment. Then the girl was looking at him with her soft, dark, +gazelle eyes; she was even speaking to him, but what she said, or what +reply he made, he could never by any means remember. Miss Bayard was +to be his companion, and with some effort and a few indistinct words he +gave her his arm. She asked if he was ill, and when a shake of the head +answered the query, she covered the few minutes of his disconcertion +with her conversation. He looked at her gratefully and gathered his +personality together. For Love had come to him like a two-edged sword, +dividing the flesh and the spirit, and he longed to cry aloud and +relieve the sweet torture of the possession. + +Reaction, however, came quickly, and with it a wonderful access of +all his powers. The sweet, strong wine of Love went to his brain like +celestial nectar. All the witty, amusing things he had ever heard came +trooping into his memory, and the dinner was long delayed by his fine +humor, his pleasant anecdotes, and the laughing thoughts which others +caught up and illustrated in their own way. + +It was a feast full of good things, but its spirit was not able to bear +transition. The company scattered quickly when it was over to the opera +or theater or to the rest of a quiet evening at home, for at the end +enthusiasm of any kind has a chilling effect on the feelings. None +of the party understood this result, and yet all were, in their way, +affected by the sudden fall of mental temperature. Mr. Denning went +to his library and took out his private ledger, a penitential sort of +reading which he relished after moods of any kind of enjoyment. Mrs. +Denning selected Ethel Rawdon for her text of disillusion. She “thought +Ethel had been a little jealous of Dora’s dress,” and Dora said, “It was +one of her surprises, and Ethel thought she ought to know everything.” + “You are too obedient to Ethel,” continued Mrs. Denning and Dora looked +with a charming demureness at her lover, and said, “She had to be +obedient to some one wiser than herself,” and so slipped her hand +into Basil’s hand. And he understood the promise, and with a look of +passionate affection raised the little jeweled pledge and kissed it. + +Perhaps no one was more affected by this chill, critical after-hour +than Miss Bayard and Ethel. Mostyn accompanied them home, but he was +depressed, and his courtesy had the air of an obligation. He said he +had a sudden headache, and was not sorry when the ladies bid him “good +night” on the threshold. Indeed, he felt that he must have refused any +invitation to lengthen out the hours with them or anybody. He wanted +one thing, and he wanted that with all his soul--solitude, that he might +fill it with images of Dora, and with passionate promises that either by +fair means or by foul, by right or by wrong, he would win the bewitching +woman for his wife. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +“WHAT do you think of the evening, Aunt Ruth?” Ethel was in her +aunt’s room, comfortably wrapped in a pink kimono, when she asked this +question. + +“What do you think of it, Ethel?” + +“I am not sure.” + +“The dinner was well served.” + +“Yes. Who was the little dark man you talked with, aunt?” + +“He was a Mr. Marriot, a banker, and a friend of Bryce Denning’s. He is +a fresh addition to society, I think. He had the word ‘gold’ always on +his lips; and he believes in it as good men believe in God. The general +conversation annoyed him; he could not understand men being entertained +by it.” + +“They were, though, for once Jamie Sayer forgot to talk about his +pictures.” + +“Is that the name of your escort?” + +“Yes.” + +“And is he an artist?” + +“A second-rate one. He is painting Dora’s picture, and is a great +favorite of Mrs. Denning’s.” + +“A strange, wild-looking man. When I saw him first he was lying, +dislocated, over his ottoman rather than sitting on it.” + +“Oh, that is a part of his affectations. He is really a childish, +self-conscious creature, with a very decided dash of vulgarity. He only +tries to look strange and wild, and he would be delighted if he knew you +had thought him so.” + +“I was glad to see Claudine Jeffrys. How slim and graceful she is! And, +pray, who is that Miss Ullman?” + +“A very rich woman. She has Bryce under consideration. Many other men +have been in the same position, for she is sure they all want her money +and not her. Perhaps she is right. I saw you talking to her, aunt.” + +“For a short time. I did not enjoy her company. She is so mercilessly +realistic, she takes all the color out of life. Everything about her, +even her speech, is sharp-lined as the edge of a knife. She could make +Bryce’s life very miserable.” + +“Perhaps it might turn out the other way. Bryce Denning has capacities +in the same line. How far apart, how far above every man there, stood +Basil Stanhope!” + +“He is strikingly handsome and graceful, and I am sure that his luminous +serenity does not arise from apathy. I should say he was a man of very +strong and tender feelings.” + +“And he gives all the strength and tenderness of his feelings to Dora. +Men are strange creatures.” + +“Who directed Dora’s dress this evening?” + +“Herself or her maid. I had nothing to do with it. The effect was +stunning.” + +“Fred thought so. In fact, Fred Hostyn----” + +“Fell in love with her.” + +“Exactly. ‘Fell,’ that is the word--fell prostrate. Usually the lover +of to-day walks very timidly and carefully into the condition, step +by step, and calculating every step before he takes it. Fred +plunged headlong into the whirling vortex. I am very sorry. It is a +catastrophe.” + +“I never witnessed the accident before. I have heard of men getting +wounds and falls, and developing new faculties in consequence, but we +saw the phenomenon take place this evening.” + +“Love, if it be love, is known in a moment. Man who never saw the +sun before would know it was the sun. In Fred’s case it was an +instantaneous, impetuous passion, flaming up at the sight of such +unexpected beauty--a passion that will probably fade as rapidly as it +rose.” + +“Fred is not that kind of a man, aunt. He does not like every one and +everything, but whoever or whatever he does like becomes a lasting part +of his life. Even the old chairs and tables at Mostyn are held as sacred +objects by him, though I have no doubt an American girl would trundle +them off to the garret. It is the same with the people. He actually +regards the Rawdons as belonging in some way to the Mostyns; and I do +not believe he has ever been in love before.” + +“Nonsense!” + +“He was so surprised by the attack. If it had been the tenth or +twentieth time he would have taken it more philosophically; besides, if +he had ever loved any woman, he would have gone on loving her, and we +should have known all about her perfections by this time.” + +“Dora is nearly a married woman, and Mostyn knows it.” + +“Nearly may make all the difference. When Dora is married he will be +compelled to accept the inevitable and make the best of it.” + +“When Dora is married he will idealize her, and assure himself that her +marriage is the tragedy of both their lives.” + +“Dora will give him no reason to suppose such a thing. I am sure she +will not. She is too much in love with Mr. Stanhope to notice any other +lover.” + +“You are mistaken, Ethel. Swiftly as Fred was vanquished she noticed +it, and many times--once even while leaning on Mr. Stanhope’s arm--she +turned the arrow in the heart wound with sweet little glances and +smiles, and pretty appeals to the blind adoration of her new lover. It +was, to me, a humiliating spectacle. How could she do it?” + +“I am sure Dora meant no wrong. It is so natural for a lovely girl to +show off a little. She will marry and forget Fred Mostyn lives.” + +“And Fred will forget?” + +“Fred will not forget.” + +“Then I shall be very sorry for your father and grandmother.” + +“What have they to do with Fred marrying?” + +“A great deal. Fred has been so familiar and homely the last two or +three weeks, that they have come to look upon him as a future member +of the family. It has been ‘Cousin Ethel’ and ‘Aunt Ruth’ and even +‘grandmother’ and ‘Cousin Fred,’ and no objections have been made to the +use of such personal terms. I think your father hopes for a closer tie +between you and Fred Mostyn than cousinship.” + +“Whatever might have been is over. Do you imagine I could consent to be +the secondary deity, to come after Dora--Dora of all the girls I have +ever known? The idea is an insult to my heart and my intelligence. +Nothing on earth could make me submit to such an indignity.” + +“I do not suppose, Ethel, that any wife is the first object of her +husband’s love.” + +“At least they tell her she is so, swear it an inch deep; and no woman +is fool enough to look beyond that oath, but when she is sure that she +is a second best! AH! That is not a position I will ever take in any +man’s heart knowingly.” + +“Of course, Fred Mostyn will have to marry.” + +“Of course, he will make a duty of the event. The line of Mostyns must +be continued. England might go to ruin if the Mostyns perished off the +English earth; but, Aunt Ruth, I count myself worthy of a better fate +than to become a mere branch in the genealogical tree of the Mostyns. +And that is all Fred Mostyn’s wife will ever be to him, unless he +marries Dora.” + +“But that very supposition implies tragedy, and it is most unlikely.” + +“Yes, for Dora is a good little thing. She has never been familiar +with vice. She has even a horror of poor women divorced from impossible +husbands. She believes her marriage will be watched by the angels, and +recorded in heaven. Basil has instructed her to regard marriage as a +holy sacrament, and I am sure he does the same.” + +“Then why should we forecast evil to their names? As for Cousin Fred, I +dare say he is comfortably asleep.” + +“I am sure he is not. I believe he is smoking and calling himself names +for not having come to New York last May, when father first invited him. +Had he done so things might have been different.” + +“Yes, they might. When Good Fortune calls, and the called ‘will not when +they may,’ then, ‘when they will’ Good Fortune has become Misfortune. +Welcome a pleasure or a gain at once, or don’t answer it at all. It was +on this rock, Ethel, the bark that carried my love went to pieces. I +know; yes, I know!” + +“My dear aunt!” + +“It is all right now, dear; but things might have been that are not. As +to Dora, I think she may be trusted with Basil Stanhope. He is one of +the best and handsomest men I ever saw, and he has now rights in Dora’s +love no one can tamper with. Mostyn is an honorable man.” + +“All right, but-- + + “Love will venture in, + Where he daurna well be seen; + O Love will venture in, + Where Wisdom once has been-- + +and then, aunt, what then?” + + + + +PART SECOND -- PLAYING WITH FIRE + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE next day after lunch Ethel said she was going to walk down to +Gramercy Park and spend an hour or two with her grandmother, and “Will +you send the carriage for me at five o’clock?” she asked. + +“Your father has ordered the carriage to be at the Holland House at five +o’clock. It can call for you first, and then go to the Holland House. +But do not keep your father waiting. If he is not at the entrance give +your card to the outside porter; he will have it sent up to Fred’s +apartments.” + +“Then father is calling on Fred? What for? Is he sick?” + +“Oh, no, business of some kind. I hope you will have a pleasant walk.” + +“There is no doubt of it.” + +Indeed, she was radiant with its exhilaration when she reached Gramercy +Park. As she ran up the steps of the big, old-fashioned house she saw +Madam at the window picking up some dropped stitches in her knitting. +Madam saw her at the same moment, and the old face and the young face +both alike kindled with love, as well as with happy anticipation of +coveted intercourse. + +“I am so glad to see you, darling Granny. I could not wait until +to-morrow.” + +“And why should you, child? I have been watching for you all morning. I +want to hear about the Denning dinner. I suppose you went?” + +“Yes, we went; we had to. Dinners in strange houses are a common +calamity; I can’t expect to be spared what everyone has to endure.” + +“Don’t be affected, Ethel. You like going out to dinner. Of course, you +do! It is only natural, considering.” + +“I don’t, Granny. I like dances and theaters and operas, but I don’t +like dinners. However, the Denning dinner was a grand exception. It gave +me and the others a sensation.” + +“I expected that.” + +“It was beautifully ordered. Majordomo Parkinson saw to that. If he had +arranged it for his late employer, the Duke of Richmond, it could not +have been finer. There was not a break anywhere.” + +“How many were present?” + +“Just a dozen.” + +“Mr. Denning and Bryce, of course. Who were the others?” + +“Mr. Stanhope, of course. Granny, he wore his clerical dress. It made +him look so remarkable.” + +“He did right. A clergyman ought to look different from other men. I +do not believe Basil Stanhope, having assumed the dress of a servant of +God, would put it off one hour for any social exigency. Why should he? +It is a grander attire than any military or naval uniform, and no court +dress is comparable, for it is the court dress of the King of kings.” + +“All right, dear Granny; you always make things clear to me, yet I meet +lots of clergymen in evening dress.” + +“Then they ought not to be clergymen. They ought not to wear coats in +which they can hold any kind of opinions. Who was your companion?” + +“Jamie Sayer.” + +“I never heard of the man.” + +“He is an artist, and is painting Dora’s likeness. He is getting on now, +but in the past, like all artists, he has suffered a deal.” + +“God’s will be done. Let them suffer. It is good for genius to suffer. +Is he in love with you?” + +“Gracious, Granny! His head is so full of pictures that no woman could +find room there, and if one did, the next new picture would crowd her +out.” + +“End that story, it is long enough.” + +“Do you know Miss Ullman?” + +“I have heard of her. Who has not?” + +“She has Bryce Denning on trial now. If he marries her I shall pity +him.” + +“Pity him! Not I, indeed! He would have his just reward. Like to like, +and Amen to it.” + +“Then there was Claudine Jeffrys, looking quite ethereal, but very +lovely.” + +“I know. Her lover was killed in Cuba, and she has been the type of +faithful grief ever since. She looks it and dresses it to perfection.” + +“And feels it?” + +“Perhaps she does. I am not skilled in the feelings of pensive, +heart-broken maidens. But her case is a very common one. Lovers are +nowhere against husbands, yet how many thousands of good women lose +their husbands every year? If they are poor, they have to hide their +grief and work for them-selves and their families; if they are rich, +very few people believe that they are really sorry to be widows. Are +any poor creatures more jeered at than widows? No man believes they +are grieving for the loss of their husbands. Then why should they all +sympathize with Claudine about the loss of a lover?” + +“Perhaps lovers are nicer than husbands.” + +“Pretty much all alike. I have known a few good husbands. Your +grandfather was one, your father another. But you have said nothing +about Fred. Did he look handsome? Did he make a sensation? Was he a +cousin to be proud of?” + +“Indeed, Granny, Fred was the whole party. He is not naturally handsome, +but he has distinction, and he was well-dressed. And I never heard +anyone talk as he did. He told the most delightful stories, he was full +of mimicry and wit, and said things that brought everyone into the +merry talk; and I am sure he charmed and astonished the whole party. +Mr. Denning asked me quietly afterwards ‘what university he was educated +at.’ I think he took it all as education, and had some wild ideas of +finishing Bryce in a similar manner.” + +Madam was radiant. “I told you so,” she said proudly. “The Mostyns have +intellect as well as land. There are no stupid Mostyns. I hope you asked +him to play. I think his way of handling a piano would have taught them +a few things Russians and Poles know nothing about. Poor things! How can +they have any feelings left?” + +“There was no piano in the room, Granny, and the company separated very +soon after dinner.” + +“Somehow you ought to have managed it, Ethel.” Then with a touch of +anxiety, “I hope all this cleverness was natural--I mean, I hope it +wasn’t champagne. You know, Ethel, we think as we drink, and Fred isn’t +used to those frisky wines. Mostyn cellars are full of old sherry and +claret, and Fred’s father was always against frothing, sparkling wines.” + +“Granny, it was all Fred. Wine had nothing to do with it, but a certain +woman had; in fact, she was the inspirer, and Fred fell fifty fathoms +deep in love with her the very moment she entered the room. He heard +not, felt not, thought not, so struck with love was he. Ruth got him +to a window for a few moments and so hid his emotion until he could get +himself together.” + +“Oh, what a tale! What a cobweb tale! I don’t believe a word of it,” and +she laughed merrily. + +“‘Tis true as gospel, Granny.” + +“Name her, then. Who was the woman?” + +“Dora.” + +“It is beyond belief, above belief, out of all reason. It cannot be, +and it shall not be, and if you are making up a story to tease me, Ethel +Rawdon----” + +“Grandmother, let me tell you just how it came about. We were all in the +room waiting for Dora, and she suddenly entered. She was dressed in soft +amber silk from head to feet; diamonds were in her black hair, and on +the bands across her shoulders, on her corsage, on her belt, her hands, +and even her slippers. Under the electric lights she looked as if she +was in a golden aura, scintillating with stars. She took Fred’s breath +away. He was talking to Ruth, and he could not finish the word he was +saying. Ruth thought he was going to faint----” + +“Don’t tell me such nonsense.” + +“Well, grandmother, this nonsense is truth. As I said before, Ruth +took him aside until he got control of himself; then, as he was Dora’s +escort, he had to go to her. Ruth introduced them, and as she raised her +soft, black eyes to his, and put her hand on his arm, something happened +again, but this time it was like possession. He was the courtier in a +moment, his eyes flashed back her glances, he gave her smile for smile, +and then when they were seated side by side he became inspired and +talked as I have told you. It is the truth, grandmother.” + +“Well, there are many different kinds of fools, but Fred Mostyn is the +worst I ever heard tell of. Does he not know that the girl is engaged?” + +“Knows it as well as I do.” + +“None of our family were ever fools before, and I hope Fred will come +round quickly. Do you think Dora noticed the impression she made?” + +“Yes, Aunt Ruth noticed Dora; and Ruth says Dora ‘turned the arrow in +the heart wound’ all the evening.” + +“What rubbish you are talking! Say in good English what you mean.” + +“She tried every moment they, were together to make him more and more +in love with her.” + +“What is her intention? A girl doesn’t carry on that way for nothing.” + +“I do not know. Dora has got beyond me lately. And, grandmother, I +am not troubling about the event as it regards Dora or Fred or Basil +Stanhope, but as it regards Ethel.” + +“What have you to do with it?” + +“That is just what I want to have clearly understood. Aunt Ruth told me +that father and you would be disappointed if I did not marry Fred.” + +“Well?” + +“I am sorry to disappoint you, but I never shall marry Fred Mostyn. +Never!” + +“I rather think you will have to settle that question with your father, +Ethel.” + +“No. I have settled it with myself. The man has given to Dora all the +love that he has to give. I will have a man’s whole heart, and not +fragments and finger-ends of it.” + +“To be sure, that is right. But I can’t say much, Ethel, when I only +know one side of the case, can I? I must wait and hear what Fred has +to say. But I like your spirit and your way of bringing what is wrong +straight up to question. You are a bit Yorkshire yet, whatever you think +gets quick to your tongue, and then out it comes. Good girl, your heart +is on your lips.” + +They talked the afternoon away on this subject, but Madam’s last words +were not only advisory, they were in a great measure sympathetic. “Be +straight with yourself, Ethel,” she said, “then Fred Mostyn can do as he +likes; you will be all right.” + +She accepted the counsel with a kiss, and then drove to the Holland +House for her father. He was not waiting, as Ruth had supposed he would +be, but then she was five minutes too soon. She sent up her card, and +then let her eyes fall upon a wretched beggar man who was trying to play +a violin, but was unable by reason of hunger and cold. He looked as if +he was dying, and she was moved with a great pity, and longed for her +father to come and give some help. While she was anxiously watching, a +young man was also struck with the suffering on the violinist’s face. +He spoke a few words to him, and taking the violin, drew from it such +strains of melody, that in a few moments a crowd had gathered within the +hotel and before it. First there was silence, then a shout of delight; +and when it ceased the player’s voice thrilled every heart to passionate +patriotism, as he sang with magnificent power and feeling-- + + There is not a spot on this wide-peopled earth + So dear to our heart as the Land of our Birth, etc. + + +A tumult of hearty applause followed, and then he cried, “Gentlemen, +this old man fought for the land of our birth. He is dying of hunger,” + and into the old man’s hat he dropped a bill and then handed it round to +millionaire and workingman alike. Ethel’s purse was in her hand. As +he passed along the curb at which her carriage stood, he looked at +her eager face, and with a smile held out the battered hat. She, also +smiling, dropped her purse into it. In a few moments the hat was nearly +full; the old man and the money were confided to the care of an hotel +officer, the stream of traffic and pleasure went on its usual way, and +the musician disappeared. + +All that evening the conversation turned constantly to this event. +Mostyn was sure he was a member of some operatic troupe. “Voices of +such rare compass and exceptional training were not to be found among +non-professional people,” he said, and Judge Rawdon was of his opinion. + +“His voice will haunt me for many days,” he said. “Those two lines, for +instance-- + + ‘Tis the home of our childhood, that beautiful spot + Which memory retains when all else is forgot. + +The melody was wonderful. I wish we could find out where he is singing. +His voice, as I said, haunts my ear.” + +Ethel might have made the same remark, but she was silent. She had +noticed the musician more closely than her father or Fred Mostyn, and +when Ruth Bayard asked her if his personality was interesting, she was +able to give a very clear description of the man. + +“I do not believe he is a professional singer; he is too young,” she +answered. “I should think he was about twenty-five years old, tall, +slender, and alert. He was fashionably dressed, as if he had been, or +was going, to an afternoon reception. Above all things, I should say he +was a gentleman.” + +Oh, why are our hearts so accessible to our eyes? Only a smiling glance +had passed between Ethel and the Unknown, yet his image was prisoned +behind the bars of her eyelids. On this day of days she had met Love on +the crowded street, and he had + + “But touched his lute wherein was audible + The certain secret thing he had to tell; + Only their mirrored eyes met silently”; + +and a sweet trouble, a restless, pleasing curiosity, had filled her +consciousness. Who was he? Where had he gone to? When should they meet +again? Ah, she understood now how Emmeline Labiche had felt constrained +to seek her lover from the snows of Canada to the moss-veiled oaks of +Louisiana. + +But her joyous, hopeful soul could not think of love and disappointment +at the same moment. “I have seen him, and I shall see him again. We met +by appointment. Destiny introduced us. Neither of us will forget, and +somewhere, some day, I shall be waiting, and he will come.” + +Thus this daughter of sunshine and hope answered herself; and why not? +All good things come to those who can wait in sweet tranquillity for +them, and seldom does Fortune fail to bring love and heart’s-ease upon +the changeful stream of changeful days to those who trust her for them. + +On the following morning, when the two girls entered the parlor, they +found the Judge smoking there. He had already breakfasted, and looked +over the three or four newspapers whose opinions he thought worthy of +his consideration. They were lying in a state of confusion at his side, +and Ethel glanced at them curiously. + +“Did any of the papers speak of the singing before the Holland House?” + she asked. + +“Yes. I think reporters must be ubiquitous. All my papers had some sort +of a notice of the affair.” + +“What do they say?” + +“One gave the bare circumstances of the case; another indulged in what +was supposed to be humorous description; a third thought it might have +been the result of a bet or dare; a fourth was of the opinion that +conspiracy between the old beggar and the young man was not unlikely, +and credited the exhibition as a cleverly original way of obtaining +money. But all agreed in believing the singer to be a member of some +opera company now in the city.” + +Ethel was indignant. “It was neither ‘bet’ nor ‘dare’ nor ‘conspiracy,’” + she said. “I saw the singer as he came walking rapidly down the avenue, +and he looked as happy and careless as a boy whistling on a country +lane. When his eyes fell on the old man he hesitated, just a moment, +and then spoke to him. I am sure they were absolute strangers to each +other.” + +“But how can you be sure of a thing like that, Ethel?” + +“I don’t know ‘how,’ Ruth, but all the same, I am sure. And as for it +being a new way of begging, that is not correct. Not many years ago, one +of the De Reszke brothers led a crippled soldier into a Paris cafe, and +sang the starving man into comfort in twenty minutes.” + +“And the angelic Parepa Rosa did as much for a Mexican woman, whom she +found in the depths of sorrow and poverty--brought her lifelong comfort +with a couple of her songs. Is it not likely, then, that the gallant +knight of the Holland House is really a member of some opera company, +that he knew of these examples and followed them?” + +“It is not unlikely, Ruth, yet I do not believe that is the +explanation.” + +“Well,” said the Judge, throwing his cigarette into the fire, “if the +singer had never heard of De Reszke and Parepa Rosa, we may suppose him +a gentleman of such culture as to be familiar with the exquisite Greek +legend of Phoebus Apollo--that story would be sufficient to inspire any +man with his voice. Do you know it?” + +Both girls answered with an enthusiastic entreaty for its recital, and +the Judge went to the library and returned with a queer-looking little +book, bound in marbled paper. + +“It was my father’s copy,” he said, “an Oxford edition.” And he turned +the leaves with loving carefulness until he came to the incident. Then +being a fine reader, the words fell from his lips in a stately measure +better than music: + +“After Troy fell there came to Argos a scarred soldier seeking alms. +Not deigning to beg, he played upon a lyre; but the handling of arms had +robbed him of his youthful power, and he stood by the portico hour after +hour, and no one dropped him a lepton. Weary, hungry and thirsty, he +leaned in despair against a pillar. A youth came to him and asked, ‘Why +not play on, Akeratos?’ And Akeratos meekly answered, ‘I am no longer +skilled.’ ‘Then,’ said the stranger, ‘hire me thy lyre; here is a +didrachmon. I will play, and thou shalt hold out thy cap and be dumb.’ +So the stranger took the lyre and swept the strings, and men heard, +as it were, the clashing of swords. And he sang the fall of Troy--how +Hector perished, slain by Achilles, the rush of chariots, the ring of +hoofs, the roar of flames--and as he sang the people stopped to listen, +breathless and eager, with rapt, attentive ear. And when the singer +ceased the soldier’s cap was filled with coins, and the people begged +for yet another song. Then he sang of Venus, till all men’s hearts were +softly stirred, and the air was purple and misty and full of the scent +of roses. And in their joy men cast before Akeratos not coins only, but +silver bracelets and rings, and gems and ornaments of gold, until the +heap had to its utmost grown, making Akeratos rich in all men’s sight. +Then suddenly the singer stood in a blaze of light, and the men of Argos +saw their god of song, Phoebus Apollo, rise in glory to the skies.” + +The girls were delighted; the Judge pleased both with his own rendering +of the legend and the manifest appreciation with which it had been +received. For a moment or two all felt the exquisite touch of the +antique world, and Ethel said, in a tone of longing, + +“I wish that I had been a Greek and lived in Argos.” + +“You would not have liked it as well as being an American and living in +New York,” said her father. + +“And you would have been a pagan,” added Ruth. + +“They were such lovely pagans, Ruth, and they dreamed such beautiful +dreams of life. Leave the book with me, father; I will take good care of +it.” + +Then the Judge gave her the book, and with a sigh looked into the modern +street. “I ought to be down at Bowling Green instead of reading +Greek stories to you girls,” he said rather brusquely. “I have a very +important railway case on my mind, and Phoebus Apollo has nothing to +do with it. Good morning. And, Ethel, do not deify the singer on the +avenue. He will not turn out, like the singer by the portico, to be a +god; be sure of that.” + +The door closed before she could answer, and both women remained silent +a few minutes. Then Ethel went to the window, and Ruth asked if she was +going to Dora’s. + +“Yes,” was the answer, but without interest. + +“You are tired with all this shopping and worry?” + +“It is not only that I am tired, I am troubled about Fred Mostyn.” + +“Why?” + +“I do not know why. It is only a vague unrest as yet. But one thing I +know, I shall oppose anything like Fred making himself intimate with +Dora.” + +“I think you will do wisely in that.” + +But in a week Ethel realized that in opposing a lover like Fred Mostyn +she had a task beyond her ability. Fred had nothing to do as important +in his opinion as the cultivation of his friendship with Dora Denning. +He called it “friendship,” but this misnomer deceived no one, not even +Dora. And when Dora encouraged his attentions, how was Ethel to prevent +them without some explanation which would give a sort of reality to what +was as yet a nameless suspicion? + +Yet every day the familiarity increased. He seemed to divine their +engagements. If they went to their jeweler’s, or to a bazaar, he was +sure to stroll in after them. When they came out of the milliner’s or +modiste’s, Fred was waiting. “He had secured a table at Sherry’s; he had +ordered lunch, and all was ready.” It was too great an effort to resist +his entreaty. Perhaps no one wished to do so. The girls were utterly +tired and hungry, and the thought of one of Fred’s lunches was very +pleasant. Even if Basil Stanhope was with them, it appeared to be all +the better. Fred always included Dora’s lover with a charming courtesy; +and, indeed, at such hours, was in his most delightful mood. Stanhope +appeared to inspire him. His mentality when the clergyman was present +took possession of every incident that came and went, and clothed it +in wit and pleasantry. Dora’s plighted lover honestly thought Dora’s +undeclared lover the cleverest and most delightful of men. And he had no +opportunity of noting, as Ethel did, the difference in Fred’s attitude +when he was not present. Then Mostyn’s merry mood became sentimental, +and his words were charged with soft meanings and looks of adoration, +and every tone and every movement made to express far more than the +tongue would have dared to utter. + +As this flirtation progressed--for on Dora’s part it was only vanity and +flirtation--Ethel grew more and more uneasy. She almost wished for some +trifling overt act which would give her an excuse for warning Dora; and +one day, after three weeks of such philandering, the opportunity came. + +“I think you permit Fred Mostyn to take too much liberty with you, +Dora,” she said as soon as they were in Dora’s parlor, and as she spoke +she threw off her coat in a temper which effectively emphasized the +words. + +“I have been expecting this ill-nature, Ethel. You were cross all the +time we were at lunch. You spoiled all our pleasure Pray, what have I +been doing wrong with Fred Mostyn?” + +“It was Fred who did wrong. His compliments to you were outrageous. +He has no right to say such things, and you have no right to listen to +them.” + +“I am not to blame if he compliments me instead of you. He was simply +polite, but then it was to the wrong person.” + +“Of course it was. Such politeness he had no right to offer you.” + +“It would have been quite proper if offered you, I suppose?” + +“It would not. It would have been a great impertinence. I have given +him neither claim nor privilege to address me as ‘My lovely Ethel!’ He +called you many times ‘My lovely Dora!’ You are not his lovely Dora. +When he put on your coat, he drew you closer than was proper; and I saw +him take your hand and hold it in a clasp--not necessary.” + +“Why do you listen and watch? It is vulgar. You told me so yourself. And +I am lovely. Basil says that as well as Fred. Do you want a man to lie +and say I am ugly?” + +“You are fencing the real question. He had no business to use the word +‘my.’ You are engaged to Basil Stanhope, not to Fred Mostyn.” + +“I am Basil’s lovely fiancee; I am Fred’s lovely friend.” + +“Oh! I hope Fred understands the difference.” + +“Of course he does. Some people are always thinking evil.” + +“I was thinking of Mr. Stanhope’s rights.” + +“Thank you, Ethel; but I can take care of Mr. Stanhope’s rights without +your assistance. If you had said you were thinking of Ethel Rawdon’s +rights you would have been nearer the truth.” + +“Dora, I will not listen----” + +“Oh, you shall listen to me! I know that you expected Fred to fall in +love with you, but if he did not like to do so, am I to blame?” Ethel +was resuming her coat at this point in the conversation, and Dora +understood the proud silence with which the act was being accomplished. +Then a score of good reasons for preventing such a definite quarrel +flashed through her selfish little mind, and she threw her arms around +Ethel and begged a thousand pardons for her rudeness. And Ethel had +also reasons for avoiding dissension at this time. A break in their +friendship now would bring Dora forward to explain, and Dora had a +wonderful cleverness in presenting her own side of any question. Ethel +shrunk from her innuendoes concerning Fred, and she knew that Basil +would be made to consider her a meddling, jealous girl who willingly saw +evil in Dora’s guileless enjoyment of a clever man’s company. + +To be misunderstood, to be blamed and pitied, to be made a pedestal +for Dora’s superiority, was a situation not to be contemplated. It was +better to look over Dora’s rudeness in the flush of Dora’s pretended +sorrow for it. So they forgave each other, or said they did, and +then Dora explained herself. She declared that she had not the least +intention of any wrong. “You see, Ethel, what a fool the man is about +me. Somebody says we ought to treat a fool according to his folly. That +is all I was doing. I am sure Basil is so far above Fred Mostyn that I +could never put them in comparison--and Basil knows it. He trusts me.” + +“Very well, Dora. If Basil knows it, and trusts you, I have no more to +say. I am now sorry I named the subject.” + +“Never mind, we will forget that it was named. The fact is, Ethel, I +want all the fun I can get now. When I am Basil’s wife I shall have to +be very sedate, and of course not even pretend to know if any other man +admires me. Little lunches with Fred, theater and opera parties, and +even dances will be over for me. Oh, dear, how much I am giving up for +Basil! And sometimes I think he never realizes how dreadful it must be +for me.” + +“You will have your lover all the time then. Surely his constant +companionship will atone for all you relinquish.” + +“Take off your coat and hat, Ethel, and sit down comfortably. I don’t +know about Basil’s constant companionship. Tete-a-tetes are tiresome +affairs sometimes.” + +“Yes,” replied Ethel, as she half-reluctantly removed her coat, “they +were a bore undoubtedly even in Paradise. I wonder if Eve was tired of +Adam’s conversation, and if that made her listen to--the other party.” + +“I am so glad you mentioned that circumstance, Ethel. I shall remember +it. Some day, no doubt, I shall have to remind Basil of the failure of +Adam to satisfy Eve’s idea of perfect companionship.” And Dora put her +pretty, jeweled hands up to her ears and laughed a low, musical laugh +with a childish note of malice running through it. + +This pseudo-reconciliation was not conducive to pleasant intercourse. +After a short delay Ethel made an excuse for an early departure, and +Dora accepted it without her usual remonstrance. The day had been one +of continual friction, and Dora’s irritable pettishness hard to bear, +because it had now lost that childish unreason which had always +induced Ethel’s patience, for Dora had lately put away all her ignorant +immaturities. She had become a person of importance, and had realized +the fact. The young ladies of St. Jude’s had made a pet of their revered +rector’s love, and the elder ladies had also shown a marked interest in +her. The Dennings’ fine house was now talked about and visited. Men of +high financial power respected Mr. Dan Denning, and advised the social +recognition of his family; and Mrs. Denning was not now found more +eccentric than many other of the new rich, who had been tolerated in +the ranks of the older plutocrats. Even Bryce had made the standing +he desired. He was seen with the richest and idlest young men, and was +invited to the best houses. Those fashionable women who had marriageable +daughters considered him not ineligible, and men temporarily +hampered for cash knew that they could find smiling assistance for a +consideration at Bryce’s little office on William Street. + +These and other points of reflection troubled Ethel, and she was +glad the long trial was nearing its end, for she knew quite well the +disagreement of that evening had done no good. Dora would certainly +repeat their conversation, in her own way of interpreting it, to both +Basil Stanhope and Fred Mostyn. More than likely both Bryce and Mrs. +Denning would also hear how her innocent kindness had been misconstrued; +and in each case she could imagine the conversation that took place, and +the subsequent bestowal of pitying, scornful or angry feeling that would +insensibly find its way to her consciousness without any bird of the air +to carry it. + +She felt, too, that reprisals of any kind were out of the question. They +were not only impolitic, they were difficult. Her father had an aversion +to Dora, and was likely to seize the first opportunity for requesting +Ethel to drop the girl’s acquaintance. Ruth also had urged her to +withdraw from any active part in the wedding, strengthening her advice +with the assurance that when a friendship began to decline it ought to +be abandoned at once. There was only her grandmother to go to, and at +first she did not find her at all interested in the trouble. She had +just had a dispute with her milkman, was inclined to give him all her +suspicions and all her angry words--“an impertinent, cheating creature,” + she said; and then Ethel had to hear the history of the month’s cream +and of the milkman’s extortion, with the old lady’s characteristic +declaration: + +“I told him plain what I thought of his ways, but I paid him every cent +I owed him. Thank God, I am not unreasonable!” + +Neither was she unreasonable when Ethel finally got her to listen to her +own serious grievance with Dora. + +“If you will have a woman for a friend, Ethel, you must put up with +womanly ways; and it is best to keep your mouth shut concerning such +ways. I hate to see you whimpering and whining about wrongs you have +been cordially inviting for weeks and months and years.” + +“Grandmother!” + +“Yes, you have been sowing thorns for yourself, and then you go unshod +over them. I mean that Dora has this fine clergyman, and Fred Mostyn, +and her brother, and mother, and father all on her side; all of them +sure that Dora can do no wrong, all of them sure that Ethel, poor girl, +must be mistaken, or prudish, or jealous, or envious.” + +“Oh, grandmother, you are too cruel.” + +“Why didn’t you have a few friends on your own side?” + +“Father and Ruth never liked Dora. And Fred--I told you how Fred acted +as soon as he saw her!” + +“There was Royal Wheelock, James Clifton, or that handsome Dick Potter. +Why didn’t you ask them to join you at your lunches and dances? You +ought to have pillared your own side. A girl without her beaux is always +on the wrong side if the girl with beaux is against her.” + +“It was the great time of Dora’s life. I wished her to have all the +glory of it.” + +“All her own share--that was right. All of your share, also--that was as +wrong as it could be.” + +“Clifton is yachting, Royal and I had a little misunderstanding, and +Dick Potter is too effusive.” + +“But Dick’s effusiveness would have been a good thing for Fred’s +effusiveness. Two men can’t go on a complimentary ran-tan at the same +table. They freeze one another out. That goes without saying. But Dora’s +indiscretions are none of your business while she is under her father’s +roof; and I don’t know if she hadn’t a friend in the world, if they +would be your business. I have always been against people trying to do +the work of THEM that are above us. We are told THEY seek and THEY +save, and it’s likely they will look after Dora in spite of her being so +unknowing of herself as to marry a priest in a surplice, when a fool in +motley would have been more like the thing.” + +“I don’t want to quarrel with Dora. After all, I like her. We have been +friends a long time.” + +“Well, then, don’t make an enemy of her. One hundred friends are too few +against one enemy. One hundred friends will wish you well, and one enemy +will DO you ill. God love you, child! Take the world as you find it. +Only God can make it any better. When is this blessed wedding to come +off?” + +“In two weeks. You got cards, did you not?” + +“I believe I did. They don’t matter. Let Dora and her flirtations alone, +unless you set your own against them. Like cures like. If the priest +sees nothing wrong----” + +“He thinks all she does is perfect.” + +“I dare say. Priests are a soft lot, they’ll believe anything. He’s +love-blind at present. Some day, like the prophet of Pethor, [1] he will +get his eyes opened. As for Fred Mostyn, I shall have a good deal to say +about him by and by, so I’ll say nothing now.” + +[Footnote 1: One of the Hebrew prophets.] + +“You promised, grandmother, not to talk to me any more about Fred.” + +“It was a very inconsiderate promise, a very irrational promise! I am +sorry I made it--and I don’t intend to keep it.” + +“Well, it takes two to hold a conversation, grandmother.” + +“To be sure it does. But if I talk to you, I hope to goodness you will +have the decency to answer me. I wouldn’t believe anything different.” + And she looked into Ethel’s face with such a smiling confidence in her +good will and obedience, that Ethel could only laugh and give her twenty +kisses as she stood up to put on her hat and coat. + +“You always get your way, Granny,” she said; and the old lady, as she +walked with her to the door, answered, “I have had my way for nearly +eighty years, dearie, and I’ve found it a very good way. I’m not likely +to change it now.” + +“And none of us want you to change it, dear. Granny’s way is always a +wise way.” And she kissed her again ere she ran down the steps to her +carriage. Yet as the old lady stepped slowly back to the parlor, she +muttered, “Fred Mostyn is a fool! If he had any sense when he left +England, he has lost it since he came here.” + +Of course nothing good came of this irritable interference. Meddling +with the conscience of another person is a delicate and difficult +affair, and Ruth had already warned Ethel of its certain futility. But +the days were rapidly wearing away to the great day, for which so +many other days had been wasted in fatiguing worry, and incredible +extravagance of health and temper and money--and after it? There would +certainly be a break in associations. Temptation would be removed, and +Basil Stanhope, relieved for a time from all the duties of his office, +would have continual opportunities for making eternally secure the +affection of the woman he had chosen. + +It was to be a white wedding, and for twenty hours previous to its +celebration it seemed as if all the florists in New York were at work in +the Denning house and in St. Jude’s church. The sacred place was radiant +with white lilies. White lilies everywhere; and the perfume would have +been overpowering, had not the weather been so exquisite that open +windows were possible and even pleasant. To the softest strains of music +Dora entered leaning on her father’s arm and her beauty and splendor +evoked from the crowd present an involuntary, simultaneous stir of +wonder and delight. She had hesitated many days between the simplicity +of white chiffon and lilies of the valley, and the magnificence of +brocaded satin in which a glittering thread of silver was interwoven. +The satin had won the day, and the sunshine fell upon its beauty, as +she knelt at the altar, like sunshine falling upon snow. It shone +and gleamed and glistened as if it were an angel’s robe; and this +scintillating effect was much increased by the sparkling of the diamonds +in her hair, and at her throat and waist and hands and feet. Nor was +her brilliant youth affected by the overshadowing tulle usually so +unbecoming. It veiled her from head to feet, and was held in place by +a diamond coronal. All her eight maids, though lovely girls, looked wan +and of the earth beside her. For her sake they had been content with +the simplicity of chiffon and white lace hats, and she stood among them +lustrous as some angelic being. Stanhope was entranced by her beauty, +and no one on this day wondered at his infatuation or thought remarkable +the ecstasy of reverent rapture with which he received the hand of his +bride. His sense of the gift was ravishing. She was now his love, his +wife forever, and when Ethel slipped forward to part and throw backward +the concealing veil, he very gently restrained her, and with his own +hands uncovered the blushing beauty, and kissed her there at the altar. +Then amid a murmur and stir of delighted sympathy he took his wife upon +his arm, and turned with her to the life they were to face together. + +Two hours later all was a past dream. Bride and bridegroom had slipped +quietly away, and the wedding guests had arrived at that rather noisy +indifference which presages the end of an entertainment. Then flushed +and tired with hurrying congratulations and good wishes that stumbled +over each other, carriage after carriage departed; and Ethel and her +companions went to Dora’s parlor to rest awhile and discuss the event of +the day. But Dora’s parlor was in a state of confusion. It had, too, an +air of loss, and felt like a gilded cage from which the bird had flown. +They looked dismally at its discomfort and went downstairs. Men were +removing the faded flowers or sitting at the abandoned table eating +and drinking. Everywhere there was disorder and waste, and from the +servants’ quarter came a noisy sense of riotous feasting. + +“Where is Mrs. Denning?” Ethel asked a footman who was gathering +together the silver with the easy unconcern of a man whose ideas were +rosy with champagne. He looked up with a provoking familiarity at the +question, and sputtered out, “She’s lying down crying and making a fuss. +Miss Day is with her, soothing of her.” + +“Let us go home,” said Ethel. + +And so, weary with pleasure, and heart-heavy with feelings that had no +longer any reason to exist, pale with fatigue, untidy with crush, their +pretty white gowns sullied and passe, each went her way; in every heart +a wonder whether the few hilarious hours of strange emotions were worth +all they claimed as their right and due. + +Ruth had gone home earlier, and Ethel found her resting in her room. “I +am worn out, Ruth,” was her first remark. “I am going to bed for three +or four days. It was a dreadful ordeal.” + +“One to which you may have to submit.” + +“Certainly not. My marriage will be a religious ceremony, with half a +dozen of my nearest relatives as witnesses.” + +“I noticed Fred slip away before Dora went. He looked ill.” + +“I dare say he is ill--and no wonder. Good night, Ruth. I am going to +sleep. Tell father all about the wedding. I don’t want to hear it named +again--not as long as I live.” + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THREE days passed and Ethel had regained her health and spirits, but +Fred Mostyn had not called since the wedding. Ruth thought some inquiry +ought to be made, and Judge Rawdon called at the Holland House. There +he was told that Mr. Mostyn had not been well, and the young man’s +countenance painfully confessed the same thing. + +“My dear Fred, why did you not send us word you were ill?” asked the +Judge. + +“I had fever, sir, and I feared it might be typhoid. Nothing of the +kind, however. I shall be all right in a day or two.” + +The truth was far from typhoid, and Fred knew it. He had left the +wedding breakfast because he had reached the limit of his endurance. +Words, stinging as whips, burned like hot coals in his mouth, and he +felt that he could not restrain them much longer. Hastening to his +hotel, he locked himself in his rooms, and passed the night in a frenzy +of passion. The very remembrance of the bridegroom’s confident transport +put mur-der in his heart--murder which he could only practice by his +wishes, impotent to compass their desires. + +“I wish the fellow shot! I wish him hanged! I would kill him twenty +times in twenty different ways! And Dora! Dora! Dora! What did she see +in him? What could she see? Love her? He knows nothing of love--such +love as tortures me.” Backwards and forwards he paced the floor to such +imprecations and ejaculations as welled up from the whirlpool of rage in +his heart, hour following hour, till in the blackness of his misery he +could no longer speak. His brain had become stupefied by the iteration +of inevitable loss, and so refused any longer to voice a woe beyond +remedy. Then he stood still and called will and reason to council him. +“This way madness lies,” he thought. “I must be quiet--I must sleep--I +must forget.” + +But it was not until the third day that a dismal, sullen stillness +succeeded the storm of rage and grief, and he awoke from a sleep of +exhaustion feeling as if he were withered at his heart. He knew that +life had to be taken up again, and that in all its farces he must play +his part. At first the thought of Mostyn Hall presented itself as an +asylum. It stood amid thick woods, and there were miles of wind-blown +wolds and hills around it. He was lord and master there, no one could +intrude upon his sorrow; he could nurse it in those lonely rooms to +his heart’s content. Every day, however, this gloomy resolution grew +fainter, and one morning he awoke and laughed it to scorn. + +“Frederick’s himself again,” he quoted, “and he must have been very far +off himself when he thought of giving up or of running away. No, Fred +Mostyn, you will stay here. ‘Tis a country where the impossible does not +exist, and the unlikely is sure to happen--a country where marriage is +not for life or death, and where the roads to divorce are manifold and +easy. There are a score of ways and means. I will stay and think them +over; ‘twill be odd if I cannot force Fate to change her mind.” + +A week after Dora’s marriage he found himself able to walk up the +avenue to the Rawdon house; but he arrived there weary and wan enough +to instantly win the sympathy of Ruth and Ethel, and he was immensely +strengthened by the sense of home and kindred, and of genuine kindness +to which he felt a sort of right. He asked Ruth if he might eat dinner +with them. He said he was hungry, and the hotel fare did not tempt him. +And when Judge Rawdon returned he welcomed him in the same generous +spirit, and the evening passed delightfully away. At its close, however, +as Mostyn stood gloved and hatted, and the carriage waited for him, he +said a few words to Judge Rawdon which changed the mental and social +atmosphere. “I wish to have a little talk with you, sir, on a business +matter of some importance. At what hour can I see you to-morrow?” + +“I am engaged all day until three in the afternoon, Fred. Suppose I call +on you about four or half-past?” + +“Very well, sir.” + +But both Ethel and Ruth wondered if it was “very well.” A shadow, +fleeting as thought, had passed over Judge Rawdon’s face when he +heard the request for a business interview, and after the young man’s +departure he lost himself in a reverie which was evidently not a happy +one. But he said nothing to the girls, and they were not accustomed to +question him. + +The next morning, instead of going direct to his office, he stopped at +Madam, his moth-er’s house in Gramercy Park. A visit at such an early +hour was unusual, and the old lady looked at him in alarm. + +“We are well, mother,” he said as she rose. “I called to talk to you +about a little business.” Whereupon Madam sat down, and became suddenly +about twenty years younger, for “business” was a word like a watch-cry; +she called all her senses together when it was uttered in her presence. + +“Business!” she ejaculated sharply. “Whose business?” + +“I think I may say the business of the whole family.” + +“Nay, I am not in it. My business is just as I want it, and I am not +going to talk about it--one way or the other.” + +“Is not Rawdon Court of some interest to you? It has been the home and +seat of the family for many centuries. A good many. Mostyn women have +been its mistress.” + +“I never heard of any Mostyn woman who would not have been far happier +away from Rawdon Court. It was a Calvary to them all. There was little +Nannie Mostyn, who died with her first baby because Squire Anthony +struck her in a drunken passion; and the proud Alethia Mostyn, who +suffered twenty years’ martyrdom from Squire John; and Sara, who took +thirty thousand pounds to Squire Hubert, to fling away at the green +table; and Harriet, who was made by her husband, Squire Humphrey, to +jump a fence when out hunting with him, and was brought home crippled +and scarred for life--a lovely girl of twenty who went through agonies +for eleven years without aught of love and help, and died alone while he +was following a fox; and there was pretty Barbara Mostyn----” + +“Come, come, mother. I did not call here this morning to hear the +Rawdons abused, and you forget your own marriage. It was a happy one, I +am sure. One Rawdon, at least, must be excepted; and I think I treated +my wife as a good husband ought to treat a wife.” + +“Not you! You treated Mary very badly.” + +“Mother, not even from you----” + +“I’ll say it again. The little girl was dying for a year or more, and +you were so busy making money you never saw it. If she said or looked +a little complaint, you moved restless-like and told her ‘she moped too +much.’ As the end came I spoke to you, and you pooh-poohed all I said. +She went suddenly, I know, to most people, but she knew it was her last +day, and she longed so to see you, that I sent a servant to hurry you +home, but she died before you could make up your mind to leave your +‘cases.’ She and I were alone when she whispered her last message for +you--a loving one, too.” + +“Mother! Mother! Why recall that bitter day? I did not think--I swear I +did not think----” + +“Never mind swearing. I was just reminding you that the Rawdons have +not been the finest specimens of good husbands. They make landlords, and +judges, and soldiers, and even loom-lords of a very respectable sort; +but husbands! Lord help their poor wives! So you see, as a Mostyn woman, +I have no special interest in Rawdon Court.” + +“You would not like it to go out of the family?” + +“I should not worry myself if it did.” + +“I suppose you know Fred Mostyn has a mortgage on it that the present +Squire is unable to lift.” + +“Aye, Fred told me he had eighty thousand pounds on the old place. I +told him he was a fool to put his money on it.” + +“One of the finest manors and manor-houses in England, mother.” + +“I have seen it. I was born and brought up near enough to it, I think.” + +“Eighty thousand pounds is a bagatelle for the place; yet if Fred forces +a sale, it may go for that, or even less. I can’t bear to think of it.” + +“Why not buy it yourself?” + +“I would lift the mortgage to-morrow if I had the means. I have not at +present.” + +“Well, I am in the same box. You have just spoken as if the Mostyns +and Rawdons had an equal interest in Rawdon Court. Very well, then, it +cannot be far wrong for Fred Mostyn to have it. Many a Mostyn has gone +there as wife and slave. I would dearly like to see one Mostyn go as +master.” + +“I shall get no help from you, then, I understand that.” + +“I’m Mostyn by birth, I’m only Rawdon by, marriage. The birth-band ties +me fast to my family.” + +“Good morning, mother. You have failed me for the first time in your +life.” + +“If the money had been for you, Edward, or yours----” + +“It is--good-by.” + +She called him back peremptorily, and he returned and stood at the open +door. + +“Why don’t you ask Ethel?” + +“I did not think I had the right, mother.” + +“More right to ask her than I. See what she says. She’s Rawdon, every +inch of her.” + +“Perhaps I may. Of course, I can sell securities, but it would be at a +sacrifice a great sacrifice at present.” + +“Ethel has the cash; and, as I said, she is Rawdon--I’m not.” + +“I wish my father were alive.” + +“He wouldn’t move me--you needn’t think that. What I have said to you I +would have said to him. Speak to Ethel. I’ll be bound she’ll listen if +Rawdon calls her.” + +“I don’t like to speak to Ethel.” + +“It isn’t what you like to do, it’s what you find you’ll have to do, +that carries the day; and a good thing, too, considering.” + +“Good morning, again. You are not quite yourself, I think.” + +“Well, I didn’t sleep last night, so there’s no wonder if I’m a bit +cross this morning. But if I lose my temper, I keep my understanding.” + +She was really cross by this time. Her son had put her in a position she +did not like to assume. No love for Rawdon Court was in her heart. She +would rather have advanced the money to buy an American estate. She +had been little pleased at Fred’s mortgage on the old place, but to +the American Rawdons she felt it would prove a white elephant; and +the appeal to Ethel was advised because she thought it would amount to +nothing. In the first place, the Judge had the strictest idea of the +sacredness of the charge committed to him as guardian of his daughter’s +fortune. In the second, Ethel inherited from her Yorkshire ancestry an +intense sense of the value and obligations of money. She was an ardent +American, and not likely to spend it on an old English manor; and, +furthermore, Madam’s penetration had discovered a growing dislike in her +granddaughter for Fred Mostyn. + +“She’d never abide him for a lifelong neighbor,” the old lady decided. +“It is the Rawdon pride in her. The Rawdon men have condescended to go +to Mostyn for wives many and many a time, but never once have the Mostyn +men married a Rawdon girl--proud, set-up women, as far as I remember; +and Ethel has a way with her just like them. Fred is good enough and +nice enough for any girl, and I wonder what is the matter with him! +It is a week and more since he was here, and then he wasn’t a bit like +himself.” + +At this moment the bell rang and she heard Fred’s voice inquiring “if +Madam was at home.” Instantly she divined the motive of his call. The +young man had come to the conclusion the Judge would try to influence +his mother, and before meeting him in the afternoon he wished to have +some idea of the trend matters were likely to take. His policy--cunning, +Madam called it--did not please her. She immediately assured herself +that “she wouldn’t go against her own flesh and blood for anyone,” and +his wan face and general air of wretchedness further antagonized her. +She asked him fretfully “what he had been doing to himself, for,” she +added, “it’s mainly what we do to ourselves that makes us sick. Was it +that everlasting wedding of the Denning girl?” + +He flushed angrily, but answered with much of the same desire to annoy, +“I suppose it was. I felt it very much. Dora was the loveliest girl in +the city. There are none left like her.” + +“It will be a good thing for New York if that is the case. I’m not one +that wants the city to myself, but I can spare Dora STANHOPE, and feel +the better for it.” + +“The most beautiful of God’s creatures!” + +“You’ve surely lost your sight or your judgment, Fred. She is just a +dusky-skinned girl, with big, brown eyes. You can pick her sort up by +the thousand in any large city. And a wandering-hearted, giddy creature, +too, that will spread as she goes, no doubt. I’m sorry for Basil +Stanhope, he didn’t deserve such a fate.” + +“Indeed, he did not! It is beyond measure too good for him.” + +“I’ve always heard that affliction is the surest way to heaven. Dora +will lead him that road, and it will be more sure than pleasant. Poor +fellow! He’ll soon be as ready to curse his wedding-day as Job was to +curse his birthday. A costly wife she will be to keep, and misery in the +keeping of her. But if you came to talk to me about Dora STANHOPE, I’ll +cease talking, for I don’t find it any great entertainment.” + +“I came to talk to you about Squire Rawdon.” + +“What about the Squire? Keep it in your mind that he and I were +sweethearts when we were children. I haven’t forgotten that fact.” + +“You know Rawdon Court is mortgaged to me?” + +“I’ve heard you say so--more than once.” + +“I intend to foreclose the mortgage in September. I find that I can +get twice yes, three times--the interest for my money in American +securities.” + +“How do you know they are securities?” + +“Bryce Denning has put me up to several good things.” + +“Well, if you think good things can come that road, you are a bigger +fool than I ever thought you.” + +“Fool! Madam, I allow no one to call me a fool, especially without +reason.” + +“Reason, indeed! What reason was there in your dillydallying after Dora +Denning when she was engaged, and then making yourself like a ghost for +her after she is married? As for the good things Bryce Denning offers +you in exchange for a grand English manor, take them, and then if I +called you not fool before, I will call you fool in your teeth twice +over, and much too good for you! Aye, I could call you a worse name when +I think of the old Squire--he’s two years older than I am--being turned +out of his lifelong home. Where is he to go to?” + +“If I buy the place, for of course it will have to be sold, he is +welcome to remain at Rawdon Court.” + +“And he would deserve to do it if he were that low-minded; but if I know +Squire Percival, he will go to the poor-house first. Fred, you would +surely scorn such a dirty thing as selling the old man out of house and +home?” + +“I want my money, or else I want Rawdon Manor.” + +“And I have no objections either to your wanting it or having it, but, +for goodness’ sake, wait until death gives you a decent warrant for +buying it.” + +“I am afraid to delay. The Squire has been very cool with me lately, and +my agent tells me the Tyrrel-Rawdons have been visiting him, also that +he has asked a great many questions about the Judge and Ethel. He is +evidently trying to prevent me getting possession, and I know that old +Nicholas Rawdon would give his eyelids to own Rawdon Court. As to the +Judge----” + +“My son wants none of it. You can make your mind easy on that score.” + +“I think I behaved very decently, though, of course, no one gives me +credit for it; for as soon as I saw I must foreclose in order to get my +own I thought at once of Ethel. It seemed to me that if we could love +each other the money claims of Mostyn and the inherited claims of Rawdon +would both be satisfied. Unfortunately, I found that I could not love +Ethel as a wife should be loved.” + +“And I can tell you, Fred, that Ethel never could have loved you as a +husband should be loved. She was a good deal disappointed in you from +the very first.” + +“I thought I made a favorable impression on her.” + +“In a way. She said you played the piano nicely; but Ethel is all for +handsome men, tall, erect six-footers, with a little swing and swagger +to them. She thought you small and finicky. But Ethel’s rich enough to +have her fancy, I hope.” + +“It is little matter now what she thought. I can’t please every one.” + +“No, it’s rather harder to do that than most people think it is. I +would please my conscience first of all, Fred. That’s the point worth +mentioning. And I shall just remind you of one thing more: your money +all in a lump on Rawdon Manor is safe. It is in one place, and in such +shape as it can’t run away nor be smuggled away by any man’s trickery. +Now, then, turn your eighty thousand pounds into dollars, and divide +them among a score of securities, and you’ll soon find out that a +fortune may be easily squandered when it is in a great many hands, and +that what looks satisfactory enough when reckoned up on paper doesn’t +often realize in hard money to the same tune. I’ve said all now I am +going to say.” + +“Thank you for the advice given me. I will take it as far as I can. This +afternoon the Judge has promised to talk over the business with me.” + +“The Judge never saw Rawdon Court, and he cares nothing about it, but he +can give you counsel about the ‘good things’ Bryce Denning offers you. +And you may safely listen to it, for, right or wrong, I see plainly it +is your own advice you will take in the long run.” + +Mostyn laughed pleasantly and went back to his hotel to think over the +facts gleaned from his conversation with Madam. In the first place, +he understood that any overt act against Squire Rawdon would be deeply +resented by his American relatives. But then he reminded himself that +his own relationship with them was merely sentiment. He had now nothing +to hope for in the way of money. Madam’s apparently spontaneous and +truthful assertion, that the Judge cared nothing for Rawdon Court, was, +however, very satisfactory to him. He had been foolish enough to think +that the thing he desired so passionately was of equal value in +the estimation of others. He saw now that he was wrong, and he then +remembered that he had never found Judge Rawdon to evince either +interest or curiosity about the family home. + +If he had been a keen observer, the Judge’s face when he called might +have given his comfortable feelings some pause. It was contracted, +subtle, intricate, but he came forward with a congratulation on Mostyn’s +improved appearance. “A few weeks at the seaside would do you good,” he +added, and Mostyn answered, “I think of going to Newport for a month.” + +“And then?” + +“I want your opinion about that. McLean advises me to see the +country--to go to Chicago, St. Louis, Denver, cross the Rockies, and on +to California. It seems as if that would be a grand summer programme. +But my lawyer writes me that the man in charge at Mostyn is cutting too +much timber and is generally too extravagant. Then there is the question +of Rawdon Court. My finances will not let me carry the mortgage on it +longer, unless I buy the place.” + +“Are you thinking of that as probable?” + +“Yes. It will have to be sold. And Mostyn seems to be the natural owner +after Rawdon. The Mostyns have married Rawdons so frequently that we are +almost like one family, and Rawdon Court lies, as it were, at Mostyn’s +gate. The Squire is now old, and too easily persuaded for his own +welfare, and I hear the Tyrrel-Rawdons have been visiting him. Such a +thing would have been incredible a few years ago.” + +“Who are the Tyrrel-Rawdons? I have no acquaintance with them.” + +“They are the descendants of that Tyrrel-Rawdon who a century ago +married a handsome girl who was only an innkeeper’s daughter. He was of +course disowned and disinherited, and his children sank to the lowest +social grade. Then when power-loom weaving was introduced they went to +the mills, and one of them was clever and saved money and built a little +mill of his own, and his son built a much larger one, and made a great +deal of money, and became Mayor of Leeds. The next generation saw the +Tyrrel-Rawdons the largest loom-lords in Yorkshire. One of the youngest +generation was my opponent in the last election and beat me--a Radical +fellow beats the Conservative candidate always where weavers and +spinners hold the vote but I thought it my duty to uphold the Mostyn +banner. You know the Mostyns have always been Tories and Conservatives.” + +“Excuse me, but I am afraid I am ignorant concerning Mostyn politics. I +take little interest in the English parties.” + +“Naturally. Well, I hope you will take an interest in my affairs and +give me your advice about the sale of Rawdon Court.” + +“I think my advice would be useless. In the first place, I never saw the +Court. My father had an old picture of it, which has somehow disappeared +since his death, but I cannot say that even this picture interested me +at all. You know I am an American, born on the soil, and very proud +of it. Then, as you are acquainted with all the ins and outs of the +difficulties and embarrassments, and I know nothing at all about them, +you would hardly be foolish enough to take my opinion against your own. +I suppose the Squire is in favor of your buying the Court?” + +“I never named the subject to him. I thought perhaps he might have +written to you on the matter. You are the last male of the house in that +line.” + +“He has never written to me about the Court. Then, I am not the last +male. From what you say, I think the Tyrrel-Rawdons could easily supply +an heir to Rawdon.” + +“That is the thing to be avoided. It would be a great offense to the +county families.” + +“Why should they be considered? A Rawdon is always a Rawdon.” + +“But a cotton spinner, sir! A mere mill-owner!” + +“Well, I do not feel with you and the other county people in that +respect. I think a cotton spinner, giving bread to a thousand families, +is a vastly more respectable and important man than a fox-hunting, idle +landlord. A mill-owning Rawdon might do a deal of good in the sleepy old +village of Monk-Rawdon.” + +“Your sentiments are American, not English, sir.” + +“As I told you, we look at things from very different standpoints.” + +“Do you feel inclined to lift the mortgage yourself, Judge?” + +“I have not the power, even if I had the inclination to do so. My +money is well invested, and I could not, at this time, turn bonds and +securities into cash without making a sacrifice not to be contemplated. +I confess, however, that if the Court has to be sold, I should like the +Tyrrel-Rawdons to buy it. I dare say the picture of the offending youth +is still in the gallery, and I have heard my mother say that what is +another’s always yearns for its lord. Driven from his heritage for +Love’s sake, it would be at least interesting if Gold gave back to his +children what Love lost them.” + +“That is pure sentiment. Surely it would be more natural that the +Mostyns should succeed the Rawdons. We have, as it were, bought the +right with at least a dozen intermarriages.” + +“That also is pure sentiment. Gold at last will carry the succession.” + +“But not your gold, I infer?” + +“Not my gold; certainly not.” + +“Thank you for your decisive words They make my course clear.” + +“That is well. As to your summer movements, I am equally unable to +give you advice. I think you need the sea for a month, and after that +McLean’s scheme is good. And a return to Mostyn to look after your +affairs is equally good. If I were you, I should follow my inclinations. +If you put your heart into anything, it is well done and enjoyed; if +you do a thing because you think you ought to do it, failure and +disappointment are often the results. So do as you want to do; it is the +only advice I can offer you.” + +“Thank you, sir. It is very acceptable. I may leave for Newport +to-morrow. I shall call on the ladies in the morning.” + +“I will tell them, but it is just possible that they, too, go to the +country to-morrow, to look after a little cottage on the Hudson we +occupy in the summer. Good-by, and I hope you will soon recover your +usual health.” + +Then the Judge lifted his hat, and with a courteous movement left the +room. His face had the same suave urbanity of expression, but he could +hardly restrain the passion in his heart. Placid as he looked when he +entered his house, he threw off all pretenses as soon as he reached his +room. The Yorkshire spirit which Ethel had declared found him out once +in three hundred and sixty-four days and twenty-three hours was then in +full pos-session. The American Judge had disappeared. He looked as like +his ancestors as anything outside of a painted picture could do. His +flushed face, his flashing eyes, his passionate exclamations, the stamp +of his foot, the blow of his hand, the threatening attitude of his +whole figure was but a replica of his great-grandfather, Anthony Rawdon, +giving Radicals at the hustings or careless keepers at the kennels “a +bit of his mind.” + +“‘Mostyn, seems to be the natural owner of Rawdon! Rawdon Court lies +at Mostyn’s gate! Natural that the Mostyns should succeed the Rawdons! +Bought the right by a dozen intermarriages!’ Confound the impudent +rascal! Does he think I will see Squire Rawdon rogued out of his home? +Not if I can help it! Not if Ethel can help it! Not if heaven and +earth can help it! He’s a downright rascal! A cool, unruffled, impudent +rascal!” And these ejaculations were followed by a bitter, biting, +blasting hailstorm of such epithets as could only be written with one +letter and a dash. + +But the passion of imprecation cooled and satisfied his anger in this +its first impetuous outbreak, and he sat down, clasped the arms of his +chair, and gave himself a peremptory order of control. In a short time +he rose, bathed his head and face in cold water, and began to dress for +dinner. And as he stood before the glass he smiled at the restored color +and calm of his countenance. + +“You are a prudent lawyer,” he said sarcastically. “How many actionable +words have you just uttered! If the devil and Fred Mostyn have been +listening, they can, as mother says, ‘get the law on you’; but I think +Ethel and I and the law will be a match even for the devil and Fred +Mostyn.” Then, as he slowly went downstairs, he repeated to himself, +“Mostyn seems to be the natural owner of Rawdon. No, sir, neither +natural nor legal owner. Rawdon Court lies at Mostyn gate. Not yet. +Mostyn lies at Rawdon gate. Natural that the Mostyns should succeed the +Rawdons. Power of God! Neither in this generation nor the next.” + +And at the same moment Mostyn, having thought over his interview with +Judge Rawdon, walked thoughtfully to a window and muttered to himself: +“Whatever was the matter with the old man? Polite as a courtier, but +something was wrong. The room felt as if there was an iceberg in it, and +he kept his right hand in his pocket. I be-lieve he was afraid I +would shake hands with him--it is Ethel, I suppose. Naturally he is +disappointed. Wanted her at Rawdon. Well, it is a pity, but I really +cannot! Oh, Dora! Dora! My heart, my hungry and thirsty heart calls you! +Burning with love, dying with longing, I am waiting for you!” + +The dinner passed pleasantly enough, but both Ethel and Ruth noticed the +Judge was under strong but well-controlled feeling. While servants were +present it passed for high spirits, but as soon as the three were alone +in the library, the excitement took at once a serious aspect. + +“My dears,” he said, standing up and facing them, “I have had a very +painful interview with Fred Mostyn. He holds a mortgage over Rawdon +Court, and is going to press it in September--that is, he proposes to +sell the place in order to obtain his money--and the poor Squire!” He +ceased speaking, walked across the room and back again, and appeared +greatly disturbed. + +“What of the Squire?” asked Ruth. + +“God knows, Ruth. He has no other home.” + +“Why is this thing to be done? Is there no way to prevent it?” + +“Mostyn wants the money, he says, to invest in American securities. He +does not. He wants to force a sale, so that he may buy the place for the +mortgage, and then either keep it for his pride, or more likely resell +it to the Tyrrel-Rawdons for double the money.” Then with gradually +increasing passion he repeated in a low, intense voice the remarks which +Mostyn had made, and which had so infuriated the Judge. Before he +had finished speaking the two women had caught his temper and spirit. +Ethel’s face was white with anger, her eyes flashing, her whole attitude +full of fight. Ruth was troubled and sorrowful, and she looked anxiously +at the Judge for some solution of the condition. It was Ethel who voiced +the anxiety. “Father,” she asked, “what is to be done? What can you do?” + +“Nothing, I am sorry to say, Ethel. My money is absolutely tied up--for +this year, at any rate. I cannot touch it without wronging others as +well as myself, nor yet without the most ruinous sacrifice.” + +“If I could do anything, I would not care at what sacrifice.” + +“You can do all that is necessary, Ethel, and you are the only person +who can. You have at least eight hundred thousand dollars in cash and +negotiable securities. Your mother’s fortune is all yours, with its +legitimate accruements, and it was left at your own disposal after your +twenty-first birthday. It has been at your own disposal WITH MY CONSENT +since your nineteenth birthday.” + +“Then, father, we need not trouble about the Squire. I wish with all +my heart to make his home sure to him as long as he lives. You are a +lawyer, you know what ought to be done.” + +“Good girl! I knew what you would say and do, or I should not have told +you the trouble there was at Rawdon. Now, I propose we all make a +visit to Rawdon Court, see the Squire and the property, and while there +perfect such arrangements as seem kindest and wisest. Ruth, how soon can +we be ready to sail?” + +“Father, do you really mean that we are to go to England?” + +“It is the only thing to do. I must see that all is as Mostyn says. I +must not let you throw your money away.” + +“That is only prudent,” said Ruth, “and we can be ready for the first +steamer if you wish it.” + +“I am delighted, father. I long to see England; more than all, I long to +see Rawdon. I did not know until this moment how much I loved it.” + +“Well, then, I will have all ready for us to sail next Saturday. Say +nothing about it to Mostyn. He will call to-morrow morning to bid you +good-by before leaving for Newport with McLean. Try and be out.” + +“I shall certainly be out,” said Ethel. “I do not wish ever to see his +face again, and I must see grandmother and tell her what we are going to +do.” + +“I dare say she guesses already. She advised me to ask you about the +mortgage. She knew what you would say.” + +“Father, who are the Tyrrel-Rawdons?” + +Then the Judge told the story of the young Tyrrel-Rawdon, who a century +ago had lost his world for Love, and Ethel said “she liked him better +than any Rawdon she had ever heard of.” + +“Except your father, Ethel.” + +“Except my father; my dear, good father. And I am glad that Love did not +always make them poor. They must now be rich, if they want to buy the +Court.” + +“They are rich manufacturers. Mostyn is much annoyed that the Squire +has begun to notice them. He says one of the grandsons of the +Tyrrel-Rawdons, disinherited for love’s sake, came to America some time +in the forties. I asked your grandmother if this story was true. She +said it is quite true; that my father was his friend in the matter, +and that it was his reports about America which made them decide to try +their fortune in New York.” + +“Does she know what became of him?” + +“No. In his last letter to them he said he had just joined a party +going to the gold fields of California. That was in 1850. He never +wrote again. It is likely he perished on the terrible journey across the +plains. Many thousands did.” + +“When I am in England I intend to call upon these Tyrrel-Rawdons. I +think I shall like them. My heart goes out to them. I am proud of this +bit of romance in the family.” + +“Oh, there is plenty of romance behind you, Ethel. When you see the old +Squire standing at the entrance to the Manor House, you may see the hags +of Cressy and Agincourt, of Marston and Worcester behind him. And the +Rawdon women have frequently been daughters of Destiny. Many of them +have lived romances that would be incredible if written down. Oh, Ethel, +dear, we cannot, we cannot for our lives, let the old home fall into the +hands of strangers. At any rate, if on inspection we think it wrong to +interfere, I can at least try and get the children of the disinherited +Tyrrel back to their home. Shall we leave it at this point for the +present?” + +This decision was agreeable to all, and then the few preparations +necessary for the journey were talked over, and in this happy discussion +the evening passed rapidly. The dream of Ethel’s life had been +this visit to the home of her family, and to go as its savior was a +consummation of the pleasure that filled her with loving pride. She +could not sleep for her waking dreams. She made all sorts of resolutions +about the despised Tyrrel-Rawdons. She intended to show the proud, +indolent world of the English land-aristocracy that Americans, just as +well born as themselves, respected business energy and enterprise; and +she had other plans and propositions just as interesting and as full of +youth’s impossible enthusiasm. + +In the morning she went to talk the subject over with her grandmother. +The old lady received the news with affected indifference. She said, +“It mattered nothing to her who sat in Rawdon’s seat; but she would not +hear Mostyn blamed for seeking his right. Money and sentiment are no +kin,” she added, “and Fred has no sentiment about Rawdon. Why should he? +Only last summer Rawdon kept him out of Parliament, and made him spend a +lot of money beside. He’s right to get even with the family if he can.” + +“But the old Squire! He is now----” + +“I know; he’s older than I am. But Squire Percival has had his day, +and Fred would not do anything out of the way to him--he could not; the +county would make both Mostyn and Rawdon very uncomfortable places to +live in, if he did.” + +“If you turn a man out of his home when he is eighty years old, I +think that is ‘out of the way.’ And Mr. Mostyn is not to be trusted. I +wouldn’t trust him as far as I could see him.” + +“Highty-tighty! He has not asked you to trust him. You lost your chance +there, miss.” + +“Grandmother, I am astonished at you!” + +“Well, it was a mean thing to say, Ethel; but I like Fred, and I see the +rest of my family are against him. It’s natural for Yorkshire to help +the weakest side. But there, Fred can do his own fighting, I’ll warrant. +He’s not an ordinary man.” + +“I’m sorry to say he isn’t, grandmother. If he were he would speak +without a drawl, and get rid of his monocle, and not pay such minute +attention to his coats and vests and walking sticks.” + +Then Ethel proceeded to explain her resolves with regard to the +Tyrrel-Rawdons. “I shall pay them the greatest attention,” she said. +“It was a noble thing in young Tyrrel-Rawdon to give up everything for +honorable love, and I think everyone ought to have stood by him.” + +“That wouldn’t have done at all. If Tyrrel had been petted as you think +he ought to have been, every respectable young man and woman in the +county would have married where their fancy led them; and the fancies of +young people mostly lead them to the road it is ruin to take.” + +“From what Fred Mostyn says, Tyrrel’s descendants seem to have taken a +very respectable road.” + +“I’ve nothing to say for or against them. It’s years and years since I +laid eyes on any of the family. Your grandfather helped one of the young +men to come to America, and I remember his mother getting into a passion +about it. She was a fat woman in a Paisley shawl and a love-bird on her +bonnet. I saw his sister often. She weighed about twelve stone, and had +red hair and red cheeks and bare red elbows. She was called a ‘strapping +lass.’ That is quite a complimentary term in the West Riding.” + +“Please, grandmother, I don’t want to hear any more. In two weeks +I shall be able to judge for myself. Since then there have been +two generations, and if a member of the present one is fit for +Parliament----” + +“That’s nothing. We needn’t look for anything specially refined in +Parliament in these days. There’s another thing. These Tyrrel-Rawdons +are chapel people. The rector of Rawdon church would not marry Tyrrel to +his low-born love, and so they went to the Methodist preacher, and after +that to the Methodist chapel. That put them down, more than you can +imagine here in America.” + +“It was a shame! Methodists are most respectable people.” + +“I’m saying nothing contrary.” + +“The President is a Methodist.” + +“I never asked what he was. I am a Church of England woman, you know +that. Born and bred in the Church, baptized, confirmed, and married in +the Church, and I was always taught it was the only proper Church for +gentlemen and gentlewomen to be saved in. However, English Methodists +often go back to the Church when they get rich.” + +“Church or chapel makes no difference to me, grandmother. If people are +only good.” + +“To be sure; but you won’t be long in England until you’ll find out that +some things make a great deal of difference. Do you know your father was +here this morning? He wanted me to go with you--a likely, thing.” + +“But, grandmother, do come. We will take such good care of you, and----” + +“I know, but I’d rather keep my old memories of Yorkshire than get +new-fashioned ones. All is changed. I can tell that by what Fred +says. My three great friends are dead. They have left children and +grandchildren, of course, but I don’t want to make new acquaintances at +my age, unless I have the picking of them. No, I shall get Miss Hillis +to go with me to my little cabin on the Jersey coast. We’ll take our +knitting and the fresh novels, and I’ll warrant we’ll see as much of +the new men and women in them as will more than satisfy us. But you must +write me long letters, and tell me everything about the Squire and the +way he keeps house, and I don’t care if you fill up the paper with the +Tyrrel-Rawdons.” + +“I will write you often, Granny, and tell you everything.” + +“I shouldn’t wonder if you come across Dora Stanhope, but I wouldn’t ask +her to Rawdon. She’ll mix some cup of bother if you do.” + +“I know.” + +In such loving and intimate conversation the hours sped quickly, and +Ethel could not bear to cut short her visit. It was nearly five when +she left Gramercy Park, but the day being lovely, and the avenue full of +carriages and pedestrians, she took the drive at its enforced tardiness +without disapproval. Almost on entering the avenue from Madison Square +there was a crush, and her carriage came to a standstill. She was then +opposite the store of a famous English saddler, and near her was an open +carriage occupied by a middle-aged gentleman in military uniform. He +appeared to be waiting for someone, and in a moment or two a young man +came out of the saddlery store, and with a pleasant laugh entered the +carriage. It was the Apollo of her dreams, the singer of the Holland +House pavement. She could not doubt it. His face, his figure, his walk, +and the pleasant smile with which he spoke to his companion were all +positive characteristics. She had forgotten none of them. His dress was +altered to suit the season, but that was an improvement; for divested of +his heavy coat, and clothed only in a stylish afternoon suit, his tall, +fine figure showed to great advantage; and Ethel told herself that he +was even handsomer than she had supposed him to be. + +Almost as soon as he entered his carriage there was a movement, and +she hoped her driver might advance sufficiently to make recognition +possible, but some feeling, she knew not what, prevented her giving +any order leading to this result. Perhaps she had an instinctive +presentiment that it was best to leave all to Destiny. Toward the upper +part of the avenue the carriage of her eager observation came to a stand +before a warehouse of antique furniture and bric-a-brac, and, as it did +so, a beautiful woman ran down the steps, and Apollo, for so Ethel had +men-tally called him, went hurriedly to meet her. Finally her coachman +passed the party, and there was a momentary recognition. He was bending +forward, listening to something the lady was saying, when the vehicles +almost touched each other. He flashed a glance at them, and met the +flash of Ethel’s eyes full of interest and curiosity. + +It was over in a moment, but in that moment Ethel saw his astonishment +and delight, and felt her own eager questioning answered. Then she was +joyous and full of hope, for “these two silent meetings are promises,” + she said to Ruth. “I feel sure I shall see him again, and then we shall +speak to each other.” + +“I hope you are not allowing yourself to feel too much interest in this +man, Ethel; he is very likely married.” + +“Oh, no! I am sure he is not, Ruth.” + +“How can you be sure? You know nothing about him.” + +“I cannot tell HOW I know, nor WHY I know, but I believe what I feel; +and he is as much interested in me as I am in him. I confess that is a +great deal.” + +“You may never see him again.” + +“I shall expect to see him next winter, he evidently lives in New York.” + +“The lady you saw may be his wife. Don’t be interested in any man on +unknown ground, Ethel. It is not prudent--it is not right.” + +“Time will show. He will very likely be looking for me this summer at +Newport and elsewhere. He will be glad to see me when I come home. Don’t +worry, Ruth. It is all right.” + +“Fred called soon after you went out this morning. He left for Newport +this afternoon. He will be at sea now.” + +“And we shall be there in a few days. When I am at the seaside I always +feel a delicious torpor; yet Nelly Baldwin told me she loved an Atlantic +passage because she had such fun on board. You have crossed several +times, Ruth; is it fun or torpor?” + +“All mirth at sea soon fades away, Ethel. Passengers are a very dull +class of people, and they know it; they rebel against it, but every hour +it becomes more natural to be dull. Very soon all mentally accommodate +themselves to being bored, dreamy and dreary. Then, as soon as it is +dark, comes that old mysterious, hungering sound of the sea; and I for +one listen till I can bear it no longer, and so steal away to bed with a +pain in my heart.” + +“I think I shall like the ocean. There are games, and books, and +company, and dinners, and other things.” + +“Certainly, and you can think yourself happy, until gradually a +contented cretinism steals over you, body and mind.” + +“No, no!” said Ethel enthusiastically. “I shall do according to +Swinburne-- + + “‘Have therefore in my heart, and in my mouth, + The sound of song that mingles North and South; + And in my Soul the sense of all the Sea!’” + + +And Ruth laughed at her dramatic attitude, and answered: “The soul of +all the sea is a contented cretinism, Ethel. But in ten days we may be +in Yorkshire. And then, my dear, you may meet your Prince--some fine +Yorkshire gentleman.” + +“I have strictly and positively promised myself that my Prince shall be +a fine American gentleman.” + +“My dear Ethel, it is very seldom + + “‘the time, and the place, + And the Loved One, come together.’” + + +“I live in the land of good hope, Ruth, and my hopes will be realized.” + +“We shall see.” + + + + +PART THIRD -- “I WENT DOWN INTO THE GARDEN TO SEE IF THE POMEGRANATES +BUDDED.” + + --Song of Solomon, VI. 11. + + + +CHAPTER VII + +IT was a lovely afternoon on the last day of May. The sea and all the +toil and travail belonging to it was overpass, and Judge Rawdon, Ruth +and Ethel were driving in lazy, blissful contentment through one of +the lovely roads of the West Riding. On either hand the beautifully +cut hedges were white and sweet, and a caress of scent--the soul of +the hawthorne flower enfolded them. Robins were singing on the topmost +sprays, and the linnet’s sweet babbling was heard from the happy nests +in its secret places; while from some unseen steeple the joyful sound +of chiming bells made music between heaven and earth fit for bands of +traveling angels. + +They had dined at a wayside inn on jugged hare, roast beef, and +Yorkshire pudding, clotted cream and haver (oaten) bread, and the +careless stillness of physical well-being and of minds at ease needed no +speech, but the mutual smiling nod of intimate sympathy. For the sense +of joy and beauty which makes us eloquent is far inferior to that sense +which makes us silent. + +This exquisite pause in life was suddenly ended by an exclamation from +the Judge. They were at the great iron gates of Rawdon Park, and +soon were slowly traversing its woody solitudes. The soft light, the +unspeakable green of the turf, the voice of ancient days murmuring in +the great oak trees, the deer asleep among the ferns, the stillness +of the summer afternoon filling the air with drowsy peace this was the +atmosphere into which they entered. Their road through this grand park +of three hundred acres was a wide, straight avenue shaded with beech +trees. The green turf on either hand was starred with primroses. In the +deep undergrowth, ferns waved and fanned each other, and the scent of +hidden violets saluted as they passed. Drowsily, as if half asleep, +the blackbirds whistled their couplets, and in the thickest hedges the +little brown thrushes sang softly to their brooding mates. For half an +hour they kept this heavenly path, and then a sudden turn brought them +their first sight of the old home. + +It was a stately, irregular building of red brick, sandaled and veiled +in ivy. The numerous windows were all latticed, the chimneys in +picturesque stacks, the sloping roof made of flags of sandstone. It +stood in the center of a large garden, at the bottom of which ran a +babbling little river--a cheerful tongue of life in the sweet, silent +place. They crossed it by a pretty bridge, and in a few minutes stood +at the great door of the mansion. It was wide open, and the Squire, with +outstretched hands, rose to meet them. While yet upon the threshold he +kissed both Ethel and Ruth, and, clasping the Judge’s hand, gazed at him +with such a piercing, kindly look that the eyes of both men filled with +tears. + +He led them into the hall, and standing there he seemed almost a part of +it. In his youth he had been a son of Anak, and his great size had been +matched by his great strength. His stature was still large, his face +broad and massive, and an abundance of snow-white hair emphasized the +dignity of a countenance which age had made nobler. The generations of +eight hundred years were crystallized in this benignant old man, looking +with such eager interest into the faces of his strange kindred from a +far-off land. + +In the evening they sat together in the old hall talking of the Rawdons. +“There is great family of us, living and dead,” said the Squire, “and I +count them all my friends. Bare is the back that has no kin behind it. +That is not our case. Eight hundred years ago there was a Rawdon in +Rawdon, and one has never been wanting since. Saxon, Danish, Norman, and +Stuart kings have been and gone their way, and we remain; and I can tell +you every Rawdon born since the House of Hanover came to England. We +have had our share in all England’s strife and glory, for if there was +ever a fight going on anywhere Rawdon was never far off. Yes, we can +string the centuries together in the battle flags we have won. See +there!” he cried, pointing to two standards interwoven above the central +chimney-piece; “one was taken from the Paynim in the first Crusade, and +the other my grandson took in Africa. It seems but yesterday, and Queen +Victoria gave him the Cross for it. Poor lad, he had it on when he died. +It went to the grave with him. I wouldn’t have it touched. I fancy the +Rawdons would know it. No one dare say they don’t. I think they meddle a +good deal more with this life than we count on.” + +The days that followed were days in The House Wonderful. It held the +treasure-trove of centuries; all its rooms were full of secrets. +Even the common sitting-room had an antique homeliness that provoked +questions as to the dates of its furniture and the whereabouts of its +wall cupboards and hidden recesses. Its china had the marks of forgotten +makers, its silver was puzzling with half-obliterated names and dates, +its sideboard of oak was black with age and full of table accessories, +the very names of which were forgotten. For this house had not been +built in the ordinary sense, it had grown through centuries; grown out +of desire and necessity, just as a tree grows, and was therefore fit +and beautiful. And it was no wonder that about every room floated +the perfume of ancient things and the peculiar family aura that had +saturated all the inanimate objects around them. + +In a few days, life settled itself to orderly occupations. The Squire +was a late riser; the Judge and his family breakfasted very early. Then +the two women had a ride in the park, or wandered in the garden, or sat +reading, or sewing, or writing in some of the sweet, fair rooms. Many +visitors soon appeared, and there were calls to return and courtesies to +accept. Among these visitors the Tyrrel-Rawdons were the earliest. The +representatives of that family were Nicholas Rawdon and his wife Lydia. +Nicholas Rawdon was a large, stout man, very arrogant, very complete, +very alert for this world, and not caring much about the other. He was +not pleased at Judge Rawdon’s visit, but thought it best to be +cousinly until his cousin interfered with his plans--“rights” he called +them--“and then!” and his “THEN” implied a great deal, for Nicholas +Rawdon was a man incapable of conceiving the idea of loving an enemy. + +His wife was a pleasant, garrulous woman, who interested Ethel very +much. Her family was her chief topic of conversation. She had two +daughters, one of whom had married a baronet, “a man with money and easy +to manage”; and the other, “a rich cotton lord in Manchester.” + +“They haven’t done badly,” she said confidentially, “and it’s a great +thing to get girls off your hands early. Adelaide and Martha were well +educated and suitable, but,” she added with a glow of pride, “you should +see my John Thomas. He’s manager of the mill, and he loves the mill, and +he knows every pound of warp or weft that comes in or goes out of the +mill; and what his father would do without him, I’m sure I don’t know. +And he is a member of Parliament, too--Radical ticket. Won over Mostyn. +Wiped Mostyn out pretty well. That was a thing to do, wasn’t it?” + +“I suppose Mr. Mostyn was the Conservative candidate?” + +“You may be sure of that. But my John Thomas doesn’t blame him for +it--the gentry have to be Conservatives. John Thomas said little against +his politics; he just set the crowd laughing at his ways--his dandified +ways. And he tried to wear one eyeglass, and let it fall, and fall, and +then told the men ‘he couldn’t manage half a pair of spectacles; but he +could manage their interests and fight for their rights,’ and such like +talk. And he walked like Mostyn, and he talked like Mostyn, and spread +out his legs, and twirled his walking stick like Mostyn, and asked them +‘if they would wish him to go to Parliament in that kind of a shape, as +he’d try and do it if they wanted a tailor-made man’; and they laughed +him down, and then he spoke reasonable to them. John Thomas knows what +Yorkshire weavers want, and he just prom-ised them everything they had +set their hearts on; and so they sent him to Parliament, and Mostyn went +to America, where, perhaps, they’ll teach him that a man’s life is worth +a bit more than a bird or a rabbit. Mostyn is all for preserving game, +and his father was a mean creature. When one thinks of his father, one +has to excuse the young man a little bit.” + +“I saw a good deal of Mr. Mostyn in New York,” said Ethel. “He used to +speak highly of his father.” + +“I’ll warrant he did; and he ought to keep at it, for he’s the only one +in this world that will use his tongue for that end. Old Samuel Mostyn +never learned to live godly or even manly, but after his death he ceased +to do evil, and that, I’ve no doubt, often feels like a blessing to them +that had to live anyway near to him. But my John Thomas!” + +“Oh,” cried Ethel, laughing, “you must not tell me so much about John +Thomas; he might not like it.” + +“John Thomas can look all he does and all he says straight in the face. +You may talk of him all day, and find nothing to say that a good girl +like you might not listen to. I should have brought him with us, but +he’s away now taking a bit of a holiday. I’m sure he needs it.” + +“Where is he taking his holiday?” + +“Why, he went with a cousin to show him the sights of London; but +somehow they got through London sights very quick, and thought they +might as well put Paris in. I wish they hadn’t. I don’t trust foreigners +and foreign ways, and they don’t have the same kind of money as ours; +but Nicholas says I needn’t worry; he is sure that our John Thomas, if +change is to make, will make it to suit himself.” + +“How soon will he be home?” + +“I might say to-day or any other early day. He’s been idling for a month +now, and his father says ‘the very looms are calling out for him.’ I’ll +bring him to see you just as soon as he comes home, looms or no looms, +and he’ll be fain to come. No one appreciates a pretty girl more than +John Thomas does.” + +So the days passed sweetly and swiftly onward, and there was no trouble +in them. Such business as was to be done went on behind the closed +doors of the Squire’s office, and with no one present but himself, Judge +Rawdon, and the attorneys attached to the Rawdon and Mostyn estates. And +as there were no entanglements and no possible reason for disputing, +a settlement was quickly arrived at. Then, as Mostyn’s return was +uncertain, an attorney’s messenger, properly accredited, was sent to +America to procure his signatures. Allowing for unforeseen delays, the +perfected papers of release might certainly be on hand by the fifteenth +of July, and it was proposed on the first of August to give a dinner +and dance in return for the numerous courtesies the American Rawdons had +received. + +As this date approached Ruth and Ethel began to think of a visit to +London. They wanted new gowns and many other pretty things, and why not +go to London for them? The journey was but a few hours, and two or three +days’ shopping in Regent Street and Piccadilly would be delightful. “We +will make out a list of all we need this afternoon,” said Ruth, “and +we might as well go to-morrow morning as later,” and at this moment +a servant entered with the mail. Ethel lifted her letter with an +exclamation. “It is from Dora,” she said, and her voice had a tone of +annoyance in it. “Dora is in London, at the Savoy. She wants to see me +very much.” + +“I am so sorry. We have been so happy.” + +“I don’t think she will interfere much, Ruth.” + +“My dears,” said Judge Rawdon, “I have a letter from Fred Mostyn. He is +coming home. He will be in London in a day or two.” + +“Why is he coming, father?” + +“He says he has a proposal to make about the Manor. I wish he were not +coming. No one wants his proposal.” Then the breakfast-table, which had +been so gay, became silent and depressed, and presently the Judge went +away without exhibiting further interest in the London journey. + +“I do wish Dora would let us alone,” said Ruth. “She always brings +disappointment or worry of some kind. And I wonder what is the meaning +of this unexpected London visit. I thought she was in Holland.” + +“She said in her last letter that London would be impossible before +August.” + +“Is it an appointment--or a coincidence?” + +And Ethel, lifting her shoulders sarcastically, as if in hostile +surrender to the inevitable, answered: + +“It is a fatality!” + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THREE days afterward Ethel called on Dora Stanhope at the Savoy. She +found her alone, and she had evidently been crying. Indeed, she +frankly admitted the fact, declaring that she had been “so bored and so +homesick, that she relieved she had cried her beauty away.” She glanced +at Ethel’s radiant face and neat fresh toilet with envy, and added, “I +am so glad to see you, Ethel. But I was sure that you would come as soon +as you knew I wanted you.” + +“Oh, indeed, Dora, you must not make yourself too sure of such a thing +as that! I really came to London to get some new gowns. I have been +shopping all morning.” + +“I thought you had come in answer to my letter. I was expecting you. +That is the reason I did not go out with Basil.” + +“Don’t you expect a little too much, Dora? I have a great many interests +and duties----” + +“I used to be first.” + +“When a girl marries she is supposed to----” + +“Please don’t talk nonsense. Basil does not take the place of everyone +and everything else. I think we are often very tired of each other. This +morning, when I was telling him what trouble I had with my maid, Julia, +he actually yawned. He tried to smother the yawn, but he could not, and +of course the honeymoon is over when your bridegroom yawns in your face +while you are telling him your troubles.” + +“I should think you would be glad it was over. Of all the words in the +English language ‘honeymoon’ is the most ridiculous and imbecile.” + +“I suppose when you get married you will take a honeymoon.” + +“I shall have more sense and more selfishness. A girl could hardly +enter a new life through a medium more trying. I am sure it would +need long-tested affections and the sweetest of tempers to make it +endurable.” + +“I cannot imagine what you mean.” + +“I mean that all traveling just after marriage is a great blunder. +Traveling makes the sunniest disposition hasty and peevish, for women +don’t love changes as men do. Not one in a thousand is seen at her best +while traveling, and the majority are seen at their very worst. Then +there is the discomfort and desolation of European hotels--their +mysterious methods and hours, and the ways of foreigners, which are not +as our ways.” + +“Don’t talk of them, Ethel. They are dreadful places, and such queer +people.” + +“Add to these troubles ignorance of language and coinage, the utter +weariness of railway travel, the plague of customs, the trunk that +won’t pack, the trains that won’t wait, the tiresome sight-seeing, +the climatic irritability, broiling suns, headache, loneliness, +fretfulness--consequently the pitiful boredom of the new husband.” + +“Ethel, what you say is certainly too true. I am weary to death of it +all. I want to be at Newport with mother, who is having a lovely time +there. Of course Basil is very nice to me, and yet there have been +little tiffs and struggles--very gentle ones--for the mastery, which +he is not going to get. To-day he wanted me to go with him and Canon +Shackleton to see something or other about the poor of London. I would +not do it. I am so lonely, Ethel, I want to see some one. I feel fit to +cry all the time. I like Basil best of anyone in the world, but----” + +“But in the solitude of a honeymoon among strangers you find out that +the person you like best in the world can bore you as badly as the +person you don’t like at all. Is that so?” + +“Exactly. Just fancy if we were among our friends in Newport. I should +have some pleasure in dressing and looking lovely. Why should I dress +here? There is no one to see me.” + +“Basil.” + +“Of course, but Basil spends all the time in visiting cathedrals and +clergymen. If we go out, it is to see something about the poor, or about +schools and such like. We were not in London two hours until he was off +to Westminster Abbey, and I didn’t care a cent about the old place. He +says I must not ask him to go to theaters, but historical old houses +don’t interest me at all. What does it matter if Cromwell slept in a +certain ancient shabby room? And as for all the palaces I have seen, my +father’s house is a great deal handsomer, and more convenient, and more +comfortable, and I wish I were there. I hate Europe, and England I hate +worst of all.” + +“You have not seen England. We are all enraptured with its beauty and +its old houses and pleasant life.” + +“You are among friends--at home, as it were. I have heard all about +Rawdon Court. Fred Mostyn told me. He is going to buy it.” + +“When?” + +“Some time this fall. Then next year he will entertain us, and that will +be a little different to this desolate hotel, I think.” + +“How long will you be in London?” + +“I cannot say. We are invited to Stanhope Castle, but I don’t want to go +there. We stayed with the Stanhopes a week when we first came over. They +were then in their London house, and I got enough of them.” + +“Did you dislike the family?” + +“No, I cared nothing about them. They just bored me. They are extremely +religious. We had prayers night and morning, and a prayer before and +after every meal. They read only very good books, and the Honorable +Misses Stanhope sew for the poor old women and teach the poor young +ones. They work harder than anyone I ever knew, and they call it +‘improving the time.’ They thought me a very silly, reckless young +woman, and I think they all prayed for me. One night after they had sung +some very nice songs they asked me to play, and I began with ‘My Little +Brown Rose’--you know they all adore the negro--and little by little I +dropped into the funniest coon songs I knew, and oh how they laughed! +Even the old lord stroked his knees and laughed out loud, while the +young ladies laughed into their handkerchiefs. Lady Stanhope was the +only one who comprehended I was guying them; and she looked at me with +half-shut eyes in a way that would have spoiled some girls’ fun. It only +made me the merrier. So I tried to show them a cake walk, but the old +lord rose then and said ‘I must be tired, and they would excuse me.’ +Somehow I could not manage him. Basil was at a workman’s concert, and +when he came home I think there were some advices and remonstrances, but +Basil never told me. I felt as if they were all glad when I went away, +and I don’t wish to go to the Castle--and I won’t go either.” + +“But if Basil wishes to go----” + +“He can go alone. I rather think Fred Mostyn will be here in a few +days, and he will take me to places that Basil will not--innocent places +enough, Ethel, so you need not look so shocked. Why do you not ask me to +Rawdon Court?” + +“Because I am only a guest there. I have no right to ask you.” + +“I am sure if you told Squire Rawdon how fond you are of me, and how +lonely I am, he would tell you to send for me.” + +“I do not believe he would. He has old-fashioned ideas about newly +married people. He would hardly think it possible that you would be +willing to go anywhere without Basil--yet.” + +“He could ask Basil too.” + +“If Mr. Mostyn is coming home, he can ask you to Mostyn Hall. It is very +near Rawdon Court.” + +“Yes. Fred said as soon as he had possession of the Court he could put +both places into a ring fence. Then he would live at the Court. If he +asks us there next summer I shall be sure to beg an invitation for you +also; so I think you might deserve it by getting me one now. I don’t +want to go to Mostyn yet. Fred says it needs entire refurnishing, and if +we come to the Court next summer, I have promised to give him my advice +and help in making the place pretty and up to date. Have you seen Mostyn +Hall?” + +“I have passed it several times. It is a large, gloomy-looking place I +was going to say haunted-looking. It stands in a grove of yew trees.” + +“So you are not going to ask me to Rawdon Court?” + +“I really cannot, Dora. It is not my house. I am only a guest there.” + +“Never mind. Make no more excuses. I see how it is. You always were +jealous of Fred’s liking for me. And of course when he goes down to +Mostyn you would prefer me to be absent.” + +“Good-by, Dora! I have a deal of shopping to do, and there is not much +time before the ball, for many things will be to make.” + +“The ball! What ball?” + +“Only one at Rawdon Court. The neighbors have been exceedingly kind to +us, and the Squire is going to give a dinner and ball on the first of +August.” + +“Sit down and tell me about the neighbors--and the ball.” + +“I cannot. I promised Ruth to be back at five. Our modiste is to see us +at that hour.” + +“So Ruth is with you! Why did she not call on me?” + +“Did you think I should come to London alone? And Ruth did not call +because she was too busy.” + +“Everyone and everything comes before me now. I used to be first of +all. I wish I were in Newport with dad and mamma; even Bryce would be a +comfort.” + +“As I said before, you have Mr. Stanhope.” + +“Are you going to send for me to the ball?” + +“I cannot promise that, Dora. Good-by.” + +Dora did not answer. She buried her face in the soft pillow, and Ethel +closed the door to the sound of her sobs. But they did not cause her to +return or to make any foolish promises. She divined their insincerity +and their motive, and had no mind to take any part in forwarding the +latter. + +And Ruth assured her she had acted wisely. “If trouble should ever come +of this friendship,” she said, “Dora would very likely complain that +you had always thrown Mostyn in her way, brought him to her house in New +York, and brought her to him at Rawdon, in England. Marriage is such a +risk, Ethel, but to marry without the courage to adapt oneself. AH!” + +“You think that condition unspeakably hard?” + +“There are no words for it.” + +“Dora was not reticent, I assure you.” + +“I am sorry. A wife’s complaints are self-inflicted wounds; scattered +seeds, from which only misery can spring. I hope you will not see her +again at this time.” + +“I made no promise to do so.” + +“And where all is so uncertain, we had better suppose all is right than +that all is wrong. Even if there was the beginning of wrong, it needs +but an accident to prevent it, and there are so many.” + +“Accidents!” + +“Yes, for accident is God’s part in affairs. We call it accident; it +would be better to say an interposition.” + +“Dora told me Mostyn intended to buy Rawdon Court in September, and he +has even invited the Stanhopes to stay there next summer.” + +“What did you say?” + +“Nothing against it.” + +“Very good. Do you think Mostyn is in London now?” + +“I should not wonder. I am sure Dora is expecting him.” + +In fact, the next morning they met Dora and Basil Stanhope, driving in +Hyde Park with Mostyn, but the smiling greeting which passed between the +parties did not, except in the case of Basil Stanhope, fairly represent +the dominant feeling of anyone. As for Stanhope, his nature was so clear +and truthful that he would hardly have comprehended a smile which was +intended to veil feelings not to be called either quite friendly or +quite pleasant. After this meeting all the joy went out of Ruth and +Ethel’s shopping. They wanted to get back to the Court, and they +attended strictly to business in order to do so. + +Mostyn followed them very quickly. He was exceedingly anxious to see +and hear for himself how his affairs regarding Rawdon stood. They were +easily made plain to him, and he saw with a pang of disappointment that +all his hopes of being Squire of Rawdon Manor were over. Every penny he +could righteously claim was paid to him, and on the title deeds of the +ancient place he had no longer the shadow of a claim. The Squire looked +ten years younger as he affectionately laid both hands on the redeemed +parchments, and Mostyn with enforced politeness congratulated him on +their integrity and then made a hurried retreat. Of its own kind this +disappointment was as great as the loss of Dora. He could think of +neither without a sense of immeasurable and disastrous failure. One +petty satisfaction regarding the payment of the mortgage was his only +com-fort. He might now show McLean that it was not want of money that +had made him hitherto shy of “the good investments” offered him. He +had been sure McLean in their last interview had thought so, and had, +indeed, felt the half-veiled contempt with which the rich young man had +expressed his pity for Mostyn’s inability to take advantage at the +right moment of an exceptional chance to play the game of beggaring his +neighbor. Now, he told himself, he would show McLean and his braggart +set that good birth and old family was for once allied with plenty +of money, and he also promised his wounded sensibilities some very +desirable reprisals, every one of which he felt fully competent to take. + +It was, after all, a poor compensation, but there was also the gold. He +thanked his father that day for the great thoughtfulness and care with +which he had amassed this sum for him, and he tried to console himself +with the belief that gold answered all purposes, and that the yellow +metal was a better possession than the house and lands which he had +longed for with an inherited and insensate craving. + +Two days after this event Ethel, at her father’s direction, signed a +number of papers, and when that duty was completed, the Squire rose +from his chair, kissed her hands and her cheeks, and in a voice full +of tenderness and pride said, “I pay my respects to the future lady of +Rawdon Manor, and I thank God for permitting me to see this hour. Most +welcome, Lady Ethel, to the rights you inherit, and the rights you have +bought.” It was a moment hardly likely to be duplicated in any life, and +Ethel escaped from its tense emotions as soon as possible. She could not +speak, her heart was too full of joy and wonder. There are souls that +say little and love much. How blessed are they! + +On the following morning the invitations were sent for the dinner +and dance, but the time was put forward to the eighth of August. In +everyone’s heart there was a hope that before that day Mostyn would have +left Rawdon, but the hope was barely mentioned. In the meantime he came +and went between Mostyn and Rawdon as he desired, and was received with +that modern politeness which considers it best to ignore offenses that +our grandfathers and grandmothers would have held for strict account and +punishment. + +It was evident that he had frequent letters from Dora. He knew all her +movements, and spoke several times of opening Mostyn Hall and inviting +the Stanhopes to stay with him until their return to America. But as +this suggestion did not bring from any member of the Rawdon family the +invitation hoped for, it was not acted upon. He told himself the +expense would be great, and the Hall, in spite of all he could do in the +interim, would look poor and shabby compared with Rawdon Court; so he +put aside the proposal on the ground that he could not persuade his +aunt to do the entertaining necessary. And for all the irritation and +humiliations centering round his loss of Rawdon and his inabilities with +regard to Dora he blamed Ethel. He was sure if he had been more lovable +and encouraging he could have married her, and thus finally reached +Rawdon Court; and then, with all the unreason imaginable, nursed a +hearty dislike to her because she would not understand his desires, and +provide means for their satisfaction. The bright, joyous girl with her +loving heart, her abounding vitality, and constant cheerfulness, made +him angry. In none of her excellencies he had any share, consequently he +hated her. + +He would have quickly returned to London, but Dora and her husband were +staying with the Stanhopes, and her letters from Stanhope Castle were +lachrymose complaints of the utter weariness and dreariness of +life there the preaching and reading aloud, the regular walking and +driving--all the innocent method of lives which recognized they were +here for some higher purpose than mere physical enjoyment. And it +angered Mostyn that neither Ruth nor Ethel felt any sympathy for Dora’s +ennui, and proposed no means of releasing her from it. He considered +them both disgustingly selfish and ill-natured, and was certain that +all their reluctance at Dora’s presence arose from their jealousy of her +beauty and her enchanting grace. + +On the afternoon of the day preceding the intended entertainment Ruth, +Ethel, and the Squire were in the great dining-room superintending its +decoration. They were merrily laughing and chatting, and were not +aware of the arrival of any visitors until Mrs. Nicholas Rawdon’s rosy, +good-natured face appeared at the open door. Everyone welcomed her +gladly, and the Squire offered her a seat. + +“Nay, Squire,” she said, “I’m come to ask a favor, and I won’t sit +till I know whether I get it or not; for if I don’t get it, I shall say +good-by as quickly as I can. Our John Thomas came home this morning and +his friend with him, and I want invitations for the young men, both of +them. My great pleasure lies that way--if you’ll give it to me.” + +“Most gladly,” answered the Squire, and Ethel immediately went for the +necessary passports. When she returned she found Mrs. Nicholas helping +Ruth and the Squire to arrange the large silver and cut crystal on the +sideboard, and talking at the same time with unabated vivacity. + +“Yes,” she was saying, “the lads would have been here two days ago, but +they stayed in London to see some American lady married. John Thomas’s +friend knew her. She was married at the Ambassador’s house. A fine +affair enough, but it bewilders me this taking up marriage without +priest or book. It’s a new commission. The Church’s warrant, it seems, +is out of date. It may be right’ it may be legal, but I told John Thomas +if he ever got himself married in that kind of a way, he wouldn’t have +father or me for witnesses.” + +“I am glad,” said the Squire, “that the young men are home in time for +our dance. The young like such things.” + +“To be sure they do. John Thomas wouldn’t give me a moment’s rest till +I came here. I didn’t want to come. I thought John Thomas should come +himself, and I told him plainly that I was ready to do anyone a favor +if I could, but if he wanted me to come because he was afraid to come +himself, I was just as ready to shirk the journey. And he laughed and +said he was not feared for any woman living, but he did want to make his +first appearance in his best clothes--and that was natural, wasn’t it? +So I came for the two lads.” Then she looked at the girls with a smile, +and said in a comfortable kind of way: “You’ll find them very nice +lads, indeed. I can speak for John Thomas, I have taken his measure long +since; and as far as I can judge his friend, Nature went about some full +work when she made a man of him. He’s got a sweet temper, and a strong +mind, and a straight judgment, if I know anything about men--which +Nicholas sometimes makes me think I don’t. But Nicholas isn’t an +ordinary man, he’s what you call ‘an exception.’” Then shaking her head +at Ethel, she continued reprovingly: “You were neither of you in +church Sunday. I know some young women who went to the parish +church--Methodists they are--specially to see your new hats. There’s +some talk about them, I can tell you, and the village milliner is +pestered to copy them. She keeps her eyes open for you. You disappointed +a lot of people. You ought to go to church in the country. It’s the most +respectable thing you can do.” + +“We were both very tired,” said Ruth, “and the sun was hot, and we had a +good Sabbath at home. Ethel read the Psalms, Epistle and Gospel for +the day, and the Squire gave us some of the grandest organ music I ever +heard.” + +“Well, well! Everyone knows the Squire is a grand player. I don’t +suppose there is another to match him in the whole world, and the old +feeling about church-going is getting slack among the young people. They +serve God now very much at their ease.” + +“Is not that better than serving Him on compulsion?” asked Ruth. + +“I dare say. I’m no bigot. I was brought up an Independent, and went +to their chapel until I married Nicholas Rawdon. My father was a +broad-thinking man. He never taught me to locate God in any building; +and I’m sure I don’t believe our parish church is His dwelling-place. +If it is, they ought to mend the roof and put a new carpet down and +make things cleaner and more respectable. Well, Squire, you have silver +enough to tempt all the rogues in Yorkshire, and there’s a lot of them. +But now I’ve seen it, I’ll go home with these bits of paper. I shall be +a very important woman to-night. Them two lads won’t know how to fleech +and flatter me enough. I’ll be waited on hand and foot. And Nicholas +will get a bit of a set-down. He was bragging about Miss Ethel bringing +his invitation to his hand and promising to dance with him. I wouldn’t +do it if I were Miss Ethel. She’ll find out, if she does, what it means +to dance with a man that weighs twenty stone, and who has never turned +hand nor foot to anything but money-making for thirty years.” + +She went away with a sweep and a rustle of her shimmering silk skirt, +and left behind her such an atmosphere of hearty good-nature as made +the last rush and crowd of preparations easily ordered and quickly +accomplished. Before her arrival there had been some doubt as to the +weather. She brought the shining sun with her, and when he set, he left +them with the promise of a splendid to-morrow--a promise amply redeemed +when the next day dawned. Indeed, the sunshine was so brilliant, the +garden so gay and sweet, the lawn so green and firm, the avenues so +shady and full of wandering songs, that it was resolved to hold the +preliminary reception out of doors. Ethel and Ruth were to receive on +the lawn, and at the open hall door the Squire would wait to welcome his +guests. + +Soon after five o’clock there was a brilliant crowd wandering and +resting in the pleasant spaces; and Ethel, wearing a diaphanously white +robe and carrying a rush basket full of white carnations, was moving +among them distributing the flowers. She was thus the center of a +little laughing, bantering group when the Nicholas Rawdon party arrived. +Nicholas remained with the Squire, Mrs. Rawdon and the young men +went toward Ethel. Mrs. Rawdon made a very handsome appearance--“an +aristocratic Britannia in white liberty silk and old lace,” whispered +Ruth, and Ethel looked up quickly, to meet her merry eyes full of some +unexplained triumph. In truth, the proud mother was anticipating a great +pleasure, not only in the presentation of her adored son, but also in +the curiosity and astonishment she felt sure would be evoked by his +friend. So, with the boldness of one who brings happy tidings, she +pressed forward. Ethel saw her approach, and went to meet her. Suddenly +her steps were arrested. An extraordinary thing was going to happen. The +Apollo of her dreams, the singer of the Holland House pavement, was at +Mrs. Rawdon’s side, was talking to her, was evidently a familiar friend. +She was going to meet him, to speak to him at last. She would hear his +name in a few moments; all that she had hoped and believed was coming +true. And the clear, resonant voice of Lydia Rawdon was like music in +her ears as she said, with an air of triumph she could not hide: + +“Miss Rawdon, I want you to know my son, Mr. John Thomas Rawdon, and +also John Thomas’s cousin, Mr. Tyrrel Rawdon, of the United States.” + Then Mr. Tyrrel Rawdon looked into Ethel’s face, and in that marvelous +meeting of their eyes, swift as the firing of a gun, their pupils +dilated and flashed with recognition, and the blood rushed crimson +over both faces. She gave the gentlemen flowers, and listened to Mrs. +Rawdon’s chatter, and said in reply she knew not what. A swift and +exquisite excitement had followed her surprise. Feelings she could +not voice were beating at her lips, and yet she knew that without her +conscious will she had expressed her astonishment and pleasure. It +was, indeed, doubtful whether any after speech or explanation would as +clearly satisfy both hearts as did that momentary flash from soul to +soul of mutual remembrance and interest. + +“I thought I’d give you a surprise,” said Mrs. Rawdon delightedly. “You +didn’t know the Tyrrel-Rawdons had a branch in America, did you? We are +a bit proud of them, I can tell you that.” + +And, indeed, the motherly lady had some reason. John Thomas was a +handsome youth of symmetrical bone and flesh and well-developed muscle. +He had clear, steady, humorous eyes; a manner frank and independent, +not to be put upon; and yet Ethel divined, though she could not have +declared, the “want” in his appearance--that all-overish grace and +elasticity which comes only from the development of the brain and +nervous system. His face was also marred by the seal of commonness which +trade impresses on so many men, the result of the subjection of the +intellect to the will, and of the impossibility of grasping things +except as they relate to self. In this respect the American cousin was +his antipodes. His whole body had a psychical expression--slim, +elastic, alert. Over his bright gray eyes the eyelids drew themselves +horizontally, showing his dexterity and acuteness of mind; indeed, his +whole expression and mien + + “Were, as are the eagle’s keen, + All the man was aquiline.” + + +These personal characteristics taking some minutes to describe were +almost an instantaneous revelation to Ethel, for what the soul sees it +sees in a flash of understanding. But at that time she only answered her +impressions without any inquiry concerning them. She was absorbed by the +personal presence of the men, and all that was lovely and lovable in her +nature responded to their admiration. + +As they strolled together through a flowery alley, she made them pass +their hands through the thyme and lavender, and listen to a bird singing +its verses, loud and then soft, in the scented air above them. They +came out where the purple plums and golden apricots were beginning to +brighten a southern wall, and there, moodily walking by himself, they +met Mostyn face to face. An angry flash and movement interpreted his +annoyance, but he immediately recovered himself, and met Ethel and his +late political opponent with polite equanimity. But a decided constraint +fell on the happy party, and Ethel was relieved to hear the first +tones of the great bell swing out from its lofty tower the call to the +dining-room. + +As far as Mostyn was concerned, this first malapropos meeting indicated +the whole evening. His heart was beating quickly to some sense of defeat +which he did not take the trouble to analyze. He only saw the man who +had shattered his political hopes and wasted his money in possession +also of what he thought he might rightly consider his place at Ethel’s +side. He had once contemplated making Ethel his bride, and though the +matrimonial idea had collapsed as completely as the political one, the +envious, selfish misery of the “dog in the manger” was eating at his +heartstrings. He did not want Ethel; but oh, how he hated the thought of +either John Thomas or that American Raw-don winning her! His seat at the +dinner-table also annoyed him. It was far enough from the objects of +his resentment to prevent him hearing or interfering in their merry +conversation; and he told himself with passionate indignation that Ethel +had never once in all their intercourse been so beautiful and bright as +she revealed herself that evening to those two Rawdon youths--one a mere +loom-master, the other an American whom no one knew anything about. + +The long, bewitching hours of the glorious evening added fuel to the +flame of his anger. He could only procure from Ethel the promise of one +unimportant dance at the close of her programme; and the American had +three dances, and the mere loom-man two. And though he attempted to +restore his self-complacency by devoting his whole attentions to the +only titled young ladies in the room, he had throughout the evening +a sense of being snubbed, and of being a person no longer of much +importance at Rawdon Court. And the reasoning of wounded self-love is a +singular process. Mostyn was quite oblivious of any personal cause for +the change; he attributed it entirely to the Squire’s ingratitude. + +“I did the Squire a good turn when he needed it, and of course he hates +me for the obligation; and as for the Judge and his fine daughter, they +interfered with my business--did me a great wrong--and they are only +illustrating the old saying, ‘Since I wronged you I never liked you.’” + After indulging such thoughts awhile, he resolved to escort the ladies +Aurelia and Isolde Danvers to Danvers Castle, and leave Miss Ethel to +find a partner for her last dance, a decision that favored John Thomas, +greatly relieved Ethel, and bestowed upon himself that most irritating +of all punishments, a self-inflicted disappointment. + +This evening was the inauguration of a period of undimmed delight. In it +the Tyrrel-Rawdons concluded a firm and affectionate alliance with the +elder branch at the Court, and one day after a happy family dinner +John Thomas made the startling proposal that “the portrait of the +disinherited, disowned Tyrrel should be restored to its place in the +family gallery.” He said he had “just walked through it, and noticed +that the spot was still vacant, and I think surely,” he added, “the +young man’s father must have meant to recall him home some day, but +perhaps death took him unawares.” + +“Died in the hunting-field,” murmured the Squire. + +John Thomas bowed his head to the remark, and proceeded, “So perhaps, +Squire, it may be in your heart to forgive the dead, and bring back the +poor lad’s picture to its place. They who sin for love aren’t so bad, +sir, as they who sin for money. I never heard worse of Tyrrel Rawdon +than that he loved a poor woman instead of a rich woman--and married +her. Those that have gone before us into the next life, I should think +are good friends together; and I wouldn’t wonder if we might even make +them happier there if we conclude to forget all old wrongs and live +together here--as Rawdons ought to live--like one family.” + +“I am of your opinion, John Thomas,” said the Squire, rising, and as he +did so he looked at the Judge, who immediately indorsed the proposal. +One after the other rose with sweet and strong assent, until there was +only Tyrrel Rawdon’s voice lacking. But when all had spoken he rose +also, and said: + +“I am Tyrrel Rawdon’s direct descendant, and I speak for him when I say +to-day, ‘Make room for me among my kindred!’ He that loves much may be +forgiven much.” + +Then the housekeeper was called, and they went slowly, with soft words, +up to the third story of the house. And the room unused for a century +was flung wide open; the shutters were unbarred, and the sunshine +flooded it; and there amid his fishing tackle, guns, and whips, and +faded ballads upon the wall, and books of wood lore and botany, and +dress suits of velvet and satin, and hunting suits of scarlet--all faded +and falling to pieces--stood the picture of Tyrrel Rawdon, with its face +turned to the wall. The Squire made a motion to his descendant, and the +young American tenderly turned it to the light. There was no decay on +those painted lineaments. The almost boyish face, with its loving eyes +and laughing mouth, was still twenty-four years old; and with a look of +pride and affection the Squire lifted the picture and placed it in the +hands of the Tyrrel Rawdon of the day. + +The hanging of the picture in its old place was a silent and tender +little ceremony, and after it the party separated. Mrs. Rawdon went +with Ruth to rest a little. She said “she had a headache,” and she also +wanted a good womanly talk over the affair. The Squire, Judge Rawdon, +Mr. Nicholas Rawdon, and John Thomas returned to the dining-room to +drink a bottle of such mild Madeira as can only now be found in the +cellars of old county magnates, and Ethel and Tyrrel Rawdon strolled +into the garden. There had not been in either mind any intention of +leaving the party, but as they passed through the hall Tyrrel saw +Ethel’s garden hat and white parasol lying on a table, and, impelled by +some sudden and unreasoned instinct, he offered them to her. Not a word +of request was spoken; it was the eager, passionate command of his +eyes she obeyed. And for a few minutes they were speechless, then so +intensely conscious that words stumbled and were lame, and they managed +only syllables at a time. But he took her hand, and they came by sunny +alleys of boxwood to a great plane tree, bearing at wondrous height +a mighty wealth of branches. A bank of soft, green turf encircled its +roots, and they sat down in the trembling shadows. It was in the midst +of the herb garden; beds of mint and thyme, rosemary and marjoram, +basil, lavender, and other fragrant plants were around, and close at +hand a little city of straw skeps peopled by golden brown bees; From +these skeps came a delicious aroma of riced flowers and virgin wax. It +was a new Garden of Eden, in which life was sweet as perfume and pure as +prayer. Nothing stirred the green, sunny afternoon but the murmur of the +bees, and the sleepy twittering of the birds in the plane branches. An +inexpressible peace swept like the breath of heaven through the odorous +places. They sat down sighing for very happiness. The silence became too +eloquent. At length it was almost unendurable, and Ethel said softly: + +“How still it is!” + +Tyrrel looked at her steadily with beaming eyes. Then he took from his +pocket a little purse of woven gold and opal-tinted beads, and held it +in his open hand for her to see, watching the bright blush that spread +over her face, and the faint, glad smile that parted her lips. + +“You understand?” + +“Yes. It is mine.” + +“It was yours. It is now mine.” + +“How did you get it?” + +“I bought it from the old man you gave it to.” + +“Oh! Then you know him? How is that?” + +“The hotel people sent a porter home with him lest he should be robbed. +Next day I made inquiries, and this porter told me where he lived. I +went there and bought this purse from him. I knew some day it would +bring me to you. I have carried it over my heart ever since.” + +“So you noticed me?” + +“I saw you all the time I was singing. I have never forgotten you since +that hour.” + +“What made you sing?” + +“Compassion, fate, an urgent impulse; perhaps, indeed, your piteous +face--I saw it first.” + +“Really?” + +“I saw it first. I saw it all the time I was singing. When you dropped +this purse my soul met yours in a moment’s greeting. It was a promise. +I knew I should meet you again. I have loved you ever since. I wanted +to tell you so the hour we met. It has been hard to keep my secret so +long.” + +“It was my secret also.” + +“I love you beyond all words. My life is in your hands. You can make me +the gladdest of mortals. You can send me away forever.” + +“Oh, no, I could not! I could not do that!” The rest escapes words; but +thus it was that on this day of days these two came by God’s grace to +each other. + + For all things come by fate to flower, + At their unconquerable hour. + +And the very atmosphere of such bliss is diffusive; it seemed as if all +the living creatures around understood. In the thick, green branches +the birds began to twitter the secret, and certainly the wise, wise bees +knew also, in some occult way, of the love and joy that had just been +revealed. A wonderful humming and buzzing filled the hives, and the +air vibrated with the movement of wings. Some influence more swift and +secret than the birds of the air carried the matter further, for it +finally reached Royal, the Squire’s favorite collie, who came sauntering +down the alley, pushed his nose twice under Ethel’s elbow, and then with +a significant look backward, advised the lovers to follow him to the +house. + +When they finally accepted his invitation, they found Mrs. Rawdon +drinking a cup of tea with Ruth in the hall. Ethel joined them with +affected high spirits and random explanations and excuses, but both +women no-ticed her radiant face and exulting air. “The garden is such a +heavenly place,” she said ecstatically, and Mrs Rawdon remarked, as she +rose and put her cup on the table, “Girls need chaperons in gardens if +they need them anywhere. I made Nicholas Rawdon a promise in Mossgill +Garden I’ve had to spend all my life since trying to keep.” + +“Tyrrel and I have been sitting under the plane tree watching the bees. +They are such busy, sensible creatures.” + +“They are that,” answered Mrs. Rawdon. “If you knew all about them you +would wonder a bit. My father had a great many; he studied their ways +and used to laugh at the ladies of the hive being so like the ladies of +the world. You see the young lady bees are just as inexperienced as a +schoolgirl. They get lost in the flowers, and are often so overtaken and +reckless, that the night finds them far from the hive, heavy with +pollen and chilled with cold. Sometimes father would lift one of these +imprudent young things, carry it home, and try to get it admitted. He +never could manage it. The lady bees acted just as women are apt to do +when other women GO where they don’t go, or DO as they don’t do.” + +“But this is interesting,” said Ruth. “Pray, how did the ladies of the +hive behave to the culprit?” + +“They came out and felt her all over, turned her round and round, and +then pushed her out of their community. There was always a deal of +buzzing about the poor, silly thing, and I shouldn’t wonder if their +stings were busy too. Bees are ill-natured as they can be. Well, well, +I don’t blame anyone for sitting in the garden such a day as this; only, +as I was saying, gardens have been very dangerous places for women as +far as I know.” + +Ruth laughed softly. “I shall take a chaperon with me, then, when I go +into the garden.” + +“I would, dearie. There’s the Judge; he’s a very suitable, +sedate-looking one but you never can tell. The first woman found in a +garden and a tree had plenty of sorrow for herself and every woman that +has lived after her. I wish Nicholas and John Thomas would come. I’ll +warrant they’re talking what they call politics.” + +Politics was precisely the subject which had been occupying them, for +when Tyrrel entered the dining-room, the Squire, Judge Rawdon, and +Mr. Nicholas Rawdon were all standing, evidently just finishing a +Conservative argument against the Radical opinions of John Thomas. The +young man was still sitting, but he rose with smiling good-humor as +Tyrrel entered. + +“Here is Cousin Tyrrel,” he cried; “he will tell you that you may call +a government anything you like radical, conservative, republican, +democratic, socialistic, but if it isn’t a CHEAP government, it isn’t a +good government; and there won’t be a cheap government in England till +poor men have a deal to say about making laws and voting taxes.” + +“Is that the kind of stuff you talk to our hands, John Thomas? No wonder +they are neither to hold nor to bind.” + +They were in the hall as John Thomas finished his political creed, and +in a few minutes the adieux were said, and the wonderful day was over. +It had been a wonderful day for all, but perhaps no one was sorry for a +pause in life--a pause in which they might rest and try to realize what +it had brought and what it had taken away. The Squire went at once to +his room, and Ethel looked at Ruth inquiringly. She seemed exhausted, +and was out of sympathy with all her surroundings. + +“What enormous vitality these Yorkshire women must have!” she said +almost crossly. “Mrs. Rawdon has been talking incessantly for six hours. +She has felt all she said. She has frequently risen and walked about. +She has used all sorts of actions to emphasize her words, and she is as +fresh as if she had just taken her morning bath. How do the men stand +them?” + +“Because they are just as vital. John Thomas will overlook and scold +and order his thousand hands all day, talk even his mother down while he +eats his dinner, and then lecture or lead his Musical Union, or conduct +a poor man’s concert, or go to ‘the Weaver’s Union,’ and what he calls +‘threep them’ for two or three hours that labor is ruining capital, +and killing the goose that lays golden eggs for them. Oh, they are a +wonderful race, Ruth!” + +“I really can’t discuss them now, Ethel.” + +“Don’t you want to know what Tyrrel said to me this afternoon?” + +“My dear, I know. Lovers have said such things before, and lovers will +say them evermore. You shall tell me in the morning. I thought he looked +distrait and bored with our company.” + +Indeed, Tyrrel was so remarkably quiet that John Thomas also noticed his +mood, and as they sat smoking in Tyrrel’s room, he resolved to find out +the reason, and with his usual directness asked: + +“What do you think of Ethel Rawdon, Tyrrel.” + +“I think she is the most beautiful woman I ever saw. She has also the +most sincere nature, and her high spirit is sweetly tempered by her +affectionate heart.” + +“I am glad you know so much about her. Look here, Cousin Tyrrel, I +fancied to-night you were a bit jealous of me. It is easy to see you are +in love, and I’ve no doubt you were thinking of the days when you would +be thousands of miles away, and I should have the ground clear and so +on, eh?” + +“Suppose I was, cousin, what then?” + +“You would be worrying for nothing. I don’t want to marry Ethel Rawdon. +If I did, you would have to be on the ground all the time, and then I +should best you; but I picked out my wife two years ago, and if we are +both alive and well, we are going to be married next Christmas.” + +“I am delighted. I----” + +“I thought you would be.” + +“Who is the young lady?” + +“Miss Lucy Watson. Her father is the Independent minister. He is a +gentleman, though his salary is less than we give our overseer. And he +is a great scholar. So is Lucy. She finished her course at college this +summer, and with high honors. Bless you, Tyrrel, she knows far more +than I do about everything but warps and looms and such like. I admire a +clever woman, and I’m proud of Lucy.” + +“Where is she now?” + +“Well, she was a bit done up with so much study, and so she went to +Scarborough for a few weeks. She has an aunt there. The sea breezes and +salt water soon made her fit for anything. She may be home very soon +now. Then, Tyrrel, you’ll see a beauty--face like a rose, hair brown as +a nut, eyes that make your heart go galloping, the most enticing mouth, +the prettiest figure, and she loves me with all her heart. When she says +‘John Thomas, dear one,’ I tremble with pleasure, and when she lets me +kiss her sweet mouth, I really don’t know where I am. What would you say +if a girl whispered, ‘I love you, and nobody but you,’ and gave you a +kiss that was like--like wine and roses? Now what would you say?” + +“I know as little as you do what I would say. It’s a situation to make a +man coin new words. I suppose your family are pleased.” + +“Well, I never thought about my family till I had Lucy’s word. Then I +told mother. She knew Lucy all through. Mother has a great respect for +Independents, and though father sulked a bit at first, mother had it +out with him one night, and when mother has father quiet in their room +father comes to see things just as she wants him. I suppose that’s the +way with wives. Lucy will be just like that. She’s got a sharp little +temper, too. She’ll let me have a bit of it, no doubt, now and then.” + +“Will you like that?” + +“I wouldn’t care a farthing for a wife without a bit of temper. There +would be no fun in living with a woman of that kind. My father would +droop and pine if mother didn’t spur him on now and then. And he likes +it. Don’t I know? I’ve seen mother snappy and awkward with him all +breakfast time, tossing her head, and rattling the china, and declaring +she was worn out with men that let all the good bargains pass them; +perhaps making fun of us because we couldn’t manage to get along without +strikes. She had no strikes with her hands, she’d like to see her women +stand up and talk to her about shorter hours, and so on; and father +would look at me sly-like, and as we walked to the mill together he’d +laugh contentedly and say, ‘Your mother was quite refreshing this +morning, John Thomas. She has keyed me up to a right pitch. When +Jonathan Arkroyd comes about that wool he sold us I’ll be all ready +for him.’ So you see I’m not against a sharp temper. I like women as +Tennyson says English girls are, ‘roses set round with little wilful +thorns,’ eh?” + +Unusual as this conversation was, its general tone was assumed by Ethel +in her confidential talk with Ruth the following day. Of course, Ruth +was not at all surprised at the news Ethel brought her, for though the +lovers had been individually sure they had betrayed their secret to +no one, it had really been an open one to Ruth since the hour of their +meeting. She was sincerely ardent in her praises of Tyrrel Rawdon, +but--and there is always a but--she wondered if Ethel had “noticed what +a quick temper he had.” + +“Oh, yes,” answered Ethel, “I should not like him not to have a quick +temper. I expect my husband to stand up at a moment’s notice for either +mine or his own rights or opinions.” + +And in the afternoon when all preliminaries had been settled and +approved, Judge Rawdon expressed himself in the same manner to Ruth. +“Yes,” he said, in reply to her timid suggestion of temper, “you +can strike fire anywhere with him if you try it, but he has it under +control. Besides, Ethel is just as quick to flame up. It will be Rawdon +against Rawdon, and Ethel’s weapons are of finer, keener steel than +Tyrrel’s. Ethel will hold her own. It is best so.” + +“How did the Squire feel about such a marriage?” + +“He was quite overcome with delight. Nothing was said to Tyrrel about +Ethel having bought the reversion of Rawdon Manor, for things have been +harder to get into proper shape than I thought they would be, and it may +be another month before all is finally settled; but the Squire has the +secret satisfaction, and he was much affected by the certainty of a +Rawdon at Rawdon Court after him. He declined to think of it in any +other way but ‘providential,’ and of course I let him take all the +satisfaction he could out of the idea. Ever since he heard of the +engagement he has been at the organ singing the One Hundred and Third +Psalm.” + +“He is the dearest and noblest of men. How soon shall we go home now?” + +“In about a month. Are you tired of England?” + +“I shall be glad to see America again. There was a letter from Dora this +morning. They sail on the twenty-third.” + +“Do you know anything of Mostyn?” + +“Since he wrote us a polite farewell we have heard nothing.” + +“Do you think he went to America?” + +“I cannot tell. When he bid us good-by he made no statement as to his +destination; he merely said ‘he was leaving England on business.’” + +“Well, Ruth, we shall sail as soon as I am satisfied all is right. There +is a little delay about some leases and other matters. In the meantime +the lovers are in Paradise wherever we locate them.” + +And in Paradise they dwelt for another four weeks. The ancient garden +had doubtless many a dream of love to keep, but none sweeter or truer +than the idyl of Tyrrel and Ethel Rawdon. They were never weary of +rehearsing it; every incident of its growth had been charming and +romantic, and, as they believed, appointed from afar. As the sum-mer +waxed hotter the beautiful place took on an appearance of royal color +and splendor, and the air was languid with the perfume of the clove +carnations and tall white August lilies. Fluted dahlias, scarlet +poppies, and all the flowers that exhale their spice in the last hot +days of August burned incense for them. Their very hair was laden with +odor, their fingers flower-sweet, their minds took on the many colors of +their exquisite surroundings. + +And it was part of this drama of love and scent and color that they +should see it slowly assume the more ethereal loveliness of September, +and watch the subtle amber rays shine through the thinning boughs, and +feel that all nature was becoming idealized. The birds were then mostly +silent. They had left their best notes on the hawthorns and among the +roses; but the crickets made a cheerful chirrup, and the great brown +butterflies displayed their richest velvets, and the gossamer-like +insects in the dreamy atmosphere performed dances and undulations full +of grace and mystery. And all these marvelous changes imparted to love +that sweet sadness which is beyond all words poetic and enchaining. + +Yet however sweet the hours, they pass away, and it is not much memory +can save from the mutable, happy days of love. Still, when the hour of +departure came they had garnered enough to sweeten all the after-straits +and stress of time. September had then perceptibly begun to add to +the nights and shorten the days, and her tender touch had been laid on +everything. With a smile and a sigh the Rawdons turned their faces to +their pleasant home in the Land of the West. It was to be but a short +farewell. They had promised the Squire to return the following summer, +but he felt the desolation of the parting very keenly. With his hat +slightly lifted above his white head, he stood watching them out of +sight. Then he went to his organ, and very soon grand waves of melody +rolled outward and upward, and blended themselves with the clear, +soaring voice of Joel, the lad who blew the bellows of the instrument, +and shared all his master’s joy in it. They played and sang until the +Squire rose weary, but full of gladness. The look of immortality was in +his eyes, its sure and certain hope in his heart. He let Joel lead him +to his chair by the window, and then he said to himself with visible +triumph: + +“What Mr. Spencer or anyone else writes about ‘the Unknowable’ I care +not. I KNOW IN WHOM I have believed. Joel, sing that last sequence +again. Stand where I can see thee.” And the lad’s joyful voice rang +exulting out: + +“Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations. Before the +mountains were brought forth, or ever Thou hadst formed the world, from +everlasting to everlasting Thou art God! Thou art God! Thou art God!” + +“That will do, Joel. Go thy ways now. Lord, Thou hast been our +dwelling-place in all generations. ‘Unknowable,’ Thou hast been our +dwelling-place in all generations. No, no, no, what an ungrateful sinner +I would be to change the Lord everlasting for the Unknowable.’” + + + +CHAPTER IX + +NEW YORK is at its very brightest and best in October. This month of the +year may be safely trusted not to disappoint. The skies are blue, the +air balmy, and there is generally a delightful absence of wind. The +summer exiles are home again from Jersey boarding houses, and mountain +camps, and seaside hotels, and thankful to the point of hilarity that +this episode of the year is over, that they can once more dwell under +their own roofs without breaking any of the manifest laws of the great +goddess Custom or Fashion. + +Judge Rawdon’s house had an especially charming “at home” appearance. +During the absence of the family it had been made beautiful inside and +outside, and the white stone, the plate glass, and falling lace evident +to the street, had an almost conscious look of luxurious propriety. + +The Judge frankly admitted his pleasure in his home surroundings. He +said, as they ate their first meal in the familiar room, that “a visit +to foreign countries was a grand, patriotic tonic.” He vowed that the +“first sight of the Stars and Stripes at Sandy Hook had given him the +finest emotion he had ever felt in his life,” and was altogether in +his proudest American mood. Ruth sympathized with him. Ethel listened +smiling. She knew well that the English strain had only temporarily +exhausted itself; it would have its period of revival at the proper +time. + +“I am going to see grandmother,” she said gayly. “I shall stay with her +all day.” + +“But I have a letter from her,” interrupted the Judge, “and she will not +return home until next week.” + +“I am sorry. I was anticipating so eagerly the joy of seeing her. Well, +as I cannot do so, I will go and call on Dora Stanhope.” + +“I would not if I were you, Ethel,” said Ruth. “Let her come and call on +you.” + +“I had a little note from her this morning, welcoming me home, and +entreating me to call.” + +The Judge rose as Ethel was speaking, and no more was said about the +visit at that time but a few hours later Ethel came down from her room +ready for the street and frankly told Ruth she had made up her mind to +call on Dora. + +“Then I will only remind you, Ethel, that Dora is not a fortunate woman +to know. As far as I can see, she is one of those who sow pain of heart +and vexation of spirit about every house they enter, even their own. +But I cannot gather experience for you, it will have to grow in your own +garden.” + +“All right, dear Ruth, and if I do not like its growth, I will pull it +up by the roots, I assure you.” + +Ruth went with her to the door and watched her walk leisurely down the +broad steps to the street. The light kindled in her eyes and on her face +as she did so. She already felt the magnetism of the great city, and +with a laughing farewell walked rapidly toward Dora’s house. + +Her card brought an instant response, and she heard Dora’s welcome +before the door was opened. And her first greeting was an enthusiastic +compliment, “How beautiful you have grown, Ethel!” she cried. “Ah, that +is the European finish. You have gained it, my dear; you really are very +much improved.” + +“And you also, Dora?” + +The words were really a question, but Dora accepted them as an +assertion, and was satisfied. + +“I suppose I am,” she answered, “though I’m sure I can’t tell how it +should be so, unless worry of all kinds is good for good looks. I’ve had +enough of that for a lifetime.” + +“Now, Dora.” + +“Oh, it’s the solid truth--partly your fault too.” + +“I never interfered----” + +“Of course you didn’t, but you ought to have interfered. When you called +on me in London you might have seen that I was not happy; and I wanted +to come to Rawdon Court, and you would not invite me. I called your +behavior then ‘very mean,’ and I have not altered my opinion of it.” + +“There were good reasons, Dora, why I could not ask you.” + +“Good reasons are usually selfish ones, Ethel, and Fred Mostyn told me +what they were. + +“He likely told you untruths, Dora, for he knew nothing about my +reasons. I saw very little of him.” + +“I know. You treated him as badly as you treated me, and all for some +wild West creature--a regular cowboy, Fred said, but then a Rawdon!” + +“Mr. Mostyn has misrepresented Mr. Tyrrel Rawdon--that is all about it. +I shall not explain ‘how’ or ‘why.’ Did you enjoy yourself at Stanhope +Castle?” + +“Enjoy myself! Are you making fun of me? Ethel, dear, it was the most +awful experience. You never can imagine such a life, and such women. +They were dressed for a walk at six o’clock; they had breakfast at +half-past seven. They went to the village and inspected cottages, and +gave lessons in housekeeping or dressmaking or some other drudgery till +noon. They walked back to the Castle for lunch. They attended to their +own improvement from half-past one until four, had lessons in drawing +and chemistry, and, I believe, electricity. They had another walk, and +then indulged themselves with a cup of tea. They dressed and received +visitors, and read science or theology between whiles. There was always +some noted preacher or scholar at the dinner table. The conversation was +about acids and explosives, or the planets or bishops, or else on the +never, never-ending subject of elevating the workingman and building +schools for his children. Basil, of course, enjoyed it. He thought he +was giving me a magnificent object lesson. He was never done praising +the ladies Mary Elinor and Adelaide Stanhope. I’m sure I wish he had +married one or all of them--and I told him so.” + +“You could not be so cruel, Dora.” + +“I managed it with the greatest ease imaginable. He was always trotting +at their side. They spoke of him as ‘the most pious young man.’ I have +no doubt they were all in love with him. I hope they were. I used to +pretend to be very much in love when they were present. I dare say it +made them wretched. Besides, they blushed and thought me improper. Basil +didn’t approve, either, so I hit all round.” + +She rose at this memory and shook out her silk skirts, and walked up and +down the room with an air that was the visible expression of the mockery +and jealousy in her heart. This was an entirely different Dora to the +lachrymose, untidy wife at the Savoy Hotel in London, and Ethel had a +momentary pang at the thought of the suffering which was responsible for +the change. + +“If I had thought, Dora, you were so uncomfortable, I would have asked +Basil and you to the Court.” + +“You saw I was not happy when I was at the Savoy.” + +“I thought you and Basil had had a kind of lovers’ quarrel, and that it +would blow over in an hour or two; no one likes to meddle with an affair +of that kind. Are you going to Newport, or is Mrs. Denning in New York?” + +“That is another trouble, Ethel. When I wrote mother I wanted to come to +her, she sent me word she was going to Lenox with a friend. Then, like +you, she said ‘she had no liberty to invite me,’ and so on. I never knew +mother act in such a way before. I nearly broke my heart about it for a +few days, then I made up my mind I wouldn’t care.” + +“Mrs. Denning, I am sure, thought she did the wisest and kindest thing +possible.” + +“I didn’t want mother to be wise. I wanted her to understand that I was +fairly worn out with my present life and needed a change. I’m sure +she did understand. Then why was she so cruel?” and she shrugged +her shoulders impatiently and sat down. “I’m so tired of life,” she +continued. “When did you hear of Fred Mostyn?” + +“I know nothing of his movements. Is he in America?” + +“Somewhere. I asked mother if he was in Newport, and she never answered +the ques-tion. I suppose he will be in New York for the winter season. I +hope so.” + +This topic threatened to be more dangerous than the other, and +Ethel, after many and futile attempts to bring conversation into safe +commonplace channels, pleaded other engagements and went away. She was +painfully depressed by the interview. All the elements of tragedy were +gathered together under the roof she had just left, and, as far as she +could see, there was no deliverer wise and strong enough to prevent a +calamity. She did not repeat to Ruth the conversation which had been so +painful to her. She described Dora’s dress and appearance, and commented +on Fred Mostyn’s description of Tyrrel Rawdon, and on Mrs. Denning’s +refusal of her daughter’s proposed visit. + +Ruth thought the latter circumstance significant. “I dare say Mostyn +was in Newport at that time,” she answered. “Mrs. Denning has some very +quick perceptions.” And Ruth’s opinion was probably correct, for during +dinner the Judge remarked in a casual manner that he had met Mr. Mostyn +on the avenue as he was coming home. “He was well,” he said, “and made +all the usual inquiries as to your health.” And both Ruth and Ethel +understood that he wished them to know of Mostyn’s presence in the city, +and to be prepared for meeting him; but did not care to discuss +the subject further, at least at that time. The information brought +precisely the same thought at the same moment to both women, and as soon +as they were alone they uttered it. + +“She knew Mostyn was in the city,” said Ethel in a low voice. + +“Certainly.” + +“She was expecting him.” + +“I am sure of it.” + +“Her elaborate and beautiful dressing was for him.” + +“Poor Basil!” + +“She asked me to stay and lunch with her, but very coolly, and when +I refused, did not press the matter as she used to do. Yes, she was +expecting him. I understand now her nervous manner, her restlessness, +her indifference to my short visit. I wish I could do anything.” + +“You cannot, and you must not try.” + +“Some one must try.” + +“There is her husband. Have you heard from Tyrrel yet.” + +“I have had a couple of telegrams. He will write from Chicago.” + +“Is he going at once to the Hot Springs?” + +“As rapidly as possible. Colonel Rawdon is now there, and very ill. +Tyrrel will put his father first of all. The trouble at the mine can be +investigated afterwards.” + +“You will miss him very much. You have been so happy together.” + +“Of course I shall miss him. But it will be a good thing for us to be +apart awhile. Love must have some time in which to grow. I am a little +tired of being very happy, and I think Tyrrel also will find absence a +relief. In ‘Lalla Rookh’ there is a line about love ‘falling asleep in a +sameness of splendor.’ It might. How melancholy is a long spell of hot, +sunshiny weather, and how gratefully we welcome the first shower of +rain.” + +“Love has made you a philosopher, Ethel.” + +“Well, it is rather an advantage than otherwise. I am going to take a +walk, Ruth, into the very heart of Broadway. I have had enough of the +peace of the country. I want the crack, and crash, and rattle, and grind +of wheels, the confused cries, the snatches of talk and laughter, the +tread of crowds, the sound of bells, and clocks, and chimes. I long for +all the chaotic, unintelligible noise of the streets. How suggestive +it is! Yet it never explains itself. It only gives one a full sense of +life. Love may need just the same stimulus. I wish grandmother would +come home. I should not require Broadway as a stimulus. I am afraid she +will be very angry with me, and there will be a battle royal in Gramercy +Park.” + +It was nearly a week before Ethel had this crisis to meet. She went down +to it with a radiant face and charming manner, and her reception was +very cordial. Madam would not throw down the glove until the proper +moment; besides, there were many very interesting subjects to talk over, +and she wanted “to find things out” that would never be told unless +tempers were propitious. Added to these reasons was the solid one that +she really adored her granddaughter, and was immensely cheered by the +very sight of the rosy, smiling countenance lifted to her sitting-room +window in passing. She, indeed, pretended to be there in order to get +a good light for her new shell pattern, but she was watching for Ethel, +and Ethel understood the shell-pattern fiction very well. She had heard +something similar often. + +“My darling grandmother,” she cried, “I thought you would never come +home.” + +“It wasn’t my fault, dear. Miss Hillis and an imbecile young doctor made +me believe I had a cold. I had no cold. I had nothing at all but what +I ought to have. I’ve been made to take all sorts of things, and do all +sorts of things that I hate to take and hate to do. For ten days I’ve +been kicking my old heels against bedclothes. Yesterday I took things in +my own hands.” + +“Never mind, Granny dear, it was all a good discipline.” + +“Discipline! You impertinent young lady! Discipline for your +grandmother! Discipline, indeed! That one word may cost you a thousand +dollars, miss.” + +“I don’t care if it does, only you must give the thousand dollars to +poor Miss Hillis.” + +“Poor Miss Hillis has had a most comfortable time with me all summer.” + +“I know she has, consequently she will feel her comfortless room and +poverty all the more after it. Give her the thousand, Granny. I’m +willing.” + +“What kind of company have you been keeping, Ethel Rawdon? Who has +taught you to squander dollars by the thousand? Discipline! I think you +are giving me a little now--a thousand dollars a lesson, it seems--no +wonder, after the carryings-on at Rawdon Court.” + +“Dear grandmother, we had the loveliest time you can imagine. And there +is not, in all the world, such a noble old gentleman as Squire Percival +Rawdon.” + +“I know all about Percival Rawdon--a proud, careless, extravagant, +loose-at-ends man, dancing and singing and loving as it suited time and +season, taking no thought for the future, and spending with both hands; +hard on women, too, as could be.” + +“Grandmother, I never saw a more courteous gentleman. He worships women. +He was never tired of talking about you.” + +“What had he to say about me?” + +“That you were the loveliest girl in the county, and that he never could +forget the first time he saw you. He said you were like the vision of an +angel.” + +“Nonsense! I was just a pretty girl in a book muslin frock and a white +sash, with a rose at my breast. I believe they use book muslin for +linings now, but it did make the sheerest, lightest frocks any girl +could want. Yes, I remember that time. I was going to a little party and +crossing a meadow to shorten the walk, and Squire Percival had been out +with his gun, and he laid it down and ran to help me over the stile. A +handsome young fellow he was then as ever stepped in shoe leather.” + +“And he must have loved you dearly. He would sit hour after hour telling +Ruth and me how bright you were, and how all the young beaux around +Monk-Rawdon adored you.” + +“Nonsense! Nonsense! I had beaux to be sure. What pretty girl hasn’t?” + +“And he said his brother Edward won you because he was most worthy of +your love.” + +“Well, now, I chose Edward Rawdon because he was willing to come to +America. I longed to get away from Monk-Rawdon. I was faint and weary +with the whole stupid place. And the idea of living a free and equal +life, and not caring what lords and squires and their proud ladies said +or did, pleased me wonderfully. We read about Niagara and the great +prairies and the new bright cities, and Edward and I resolved to +make our home there. Your grandfather wasn’t a man to like being ‘the +Squire’s brother.’ He could stand alone.” + +“Are you glad you came to America?” + +“Never sorry a minute for it. Ten years in New York is worth fifty years +in Monk-Rawdon, or Rawdon Court either.” + +“Squire Percival was very fond of me. He thought I resembled you, +grandmother, but he never admitted I was as handsome as you were.” + +“Well, Ethel dear, you are handsome enough for the kind of men you’ll +pick up in this generation--most of them bald at thirty, wearing +spectacles at twenty or earlier, and in spite of the fuss they make +about athletics breaking all to nervous bits about fifty.” + +“Grandmother, that is pure slander. I know some very fine young men, +handsome and athletic both.” + +“Beauty is a matter of taste, and as to their athletics, they can run +a mile with a blacksmith, but when the thermometer rises to eighty-five +degrees it knocks them all to pieces. They sit fanning themselves like +schoolgirls, and call for juleps and ice-water. I’ve got eyes yet, my +dear. Squire Percival was a different kind of man; he could follow the +hounds all day and dance all night. The hunt had not a rider like +him; he balked at neither hedge, gate, nor water; a right gallant, +courageous, honorable, affectionate gentleman as ever Yorkshire bred, +and she’s bred lots of superfine ones. What ever made him get into such +a mess with his estate? Your grandfather thought him as straight as a +string in money matters.” + +“You said just now he was careless and extravagant.” + +“Well, I did him wrong, and I’m sorry for it. How did he manage to need +eighty thousand pounds?” + +“It is rather a pitiful story, grandmother, but he never once blamed +those who were in the wrong. His son for many years had been the real +manager of the estate. He was a speculator; his grandsons were wild and +extravagant. They began to borrow money ten years ago and had to go on.” + +“Whom did they borrow from?” + +“Fred Mostyn’s father.” + +“The devil! Excuse me, Ethel--but the name suits and may stand.” + +“The dear old Squire would have taken the fault on himself if he could +have done so. They that wronged him were his own, and they were dead. He +never spoke of them but with affection.” + +“Poor Percival! Your father told me he was now out of Mostyn’s power; +he said you had saved the estate, but he gave me no particulars. How did +you save it?” + +“Bought it!” + +“Nonsense!” + +“House and lands and outlying farms and timber--everything.” + +Then a rosy color overspread Madam’s face, her eyes sparkled, she rose +to her feet, made Ethel a sweeping courtesy, and said: + +“My respect and congratulations to Ethel, Lady of Rawdon Manor.” + +“Dear grandmother, what else could I do?” + +“You did right.” + +“The Squire is Lord of the Manor as long as he lives. My father says I +have done well to buy it. In the future, if I do not wish to keep it, +Nicholas Rawdon will relieve me at a great financial advantage.” + +“Why didn’t you let Nicholas Rawdon buy it now?” + +“He would have wanted prompt possession. The Squire would have had to +leave his home. It would have broken his heart.” + +“I dare say. He has a soft, loving heart. That isn’t always a blessing. +It can give one a deal of suffering. And I hear you have all been making +idols of these Tyrrel-Rawdons. Fred tells me they are as vulgar a lot as +can be.” + +“Fred lies! Excuse me, grandmother--but the word suits and may stand. +Mr. Nicholas is pompous, and walks as slowly as if he had to carry the +weight of his great fortune; but his manners are all right, and his +wife and son are delightful. She is handsome, well dressed, and so +good-hearted that her pretty county idioms are really charming. John +Thomas is a man by himself--not handsome, but running over with good +temper, and exceedingly clever and wide-awake. Many times I was forced +to tell myself, John Thomas would make an ideal Squire of Rawdon.” + +“Why don’t you marry him.” + +“He never asked me.” + +“What was the matter with the men?” + +“He was already engaged to a very lovely young lady.” + +“I am glad she is a lady.” + +“She is also very clever. She has been to college and taken high honors, +a thing I have not done.” + +“You might have done and overdone that caper; you were too sensible to +try it. Well, I’m glad that part of the family is looking up. They had +the right stuff in them, and it is a good thing for families to dwell +together in unity. We have King David’s word for that. My observation +leads me to think it is far better for families to dwell apart, in +unity. They seldom get along comfortably together.” + +Then Ethel related many pleasant, piquant scenes between the two +families at Monk-Rawdon, and especially that one in which the room of +the first Tyrrel had been opened and his likeness restored to its +place in the family gallery. It touched the old lady to tears, and she +murmured, “Poor lad! Poor lad! I wonder if he knows! I wonder if he +knows!” + +The crucial point of Ethel’s revelations had not yet been revealed, +but Madam was now in a gentle mood, and Ethel took the opportunity to +introduce her to Tyrrel Rawdon. She was expecting and waiting for this +topic, but stubbornly refused to give Ethel any help toward bringing +it forward. At last, the girl felt a little anger at her pretended +indifference, and said, “I suppose Fred Mostyn told you about Mr. Tyrrel +Rawdon, of California?” + +“Tyrrel Rawdon, of California! Pray, who may he be?” + +“The son of Colonel Rawdon, of the United States Army.” + +“Oh, to be sure! Well, what of him?” + +“I am going to marry him.” + +“I shall see about that.” + +“We were coming here together to see you, but before we left the steamer +he got a telegram urging him to go at once to his father, who is very +ill.” + +“I have not asked him to come and see me. Perhaps he will wait till I do +so.” + +“If you are not going to love Tyrrel, you need not love me. I won’t have +you for a grandmother any longer.” + +“I did without you sixty years. I shall not live another twelve months, +and I think I can manage to do without you for a granddaughter any +longer.” + +“You cannot do without me. You would break your heart, and I should +break mine.” Whereupon Ethel began to cry with a passion that quite +gratified the old lady. She watched her a few moments, and then said +gently: + +“There now, that will do. When he comes to New York bring him to see me. +And don’t name the man in the meantime. I won’t talk about him till I’ve +seen him. It isn’t fair either way. Fred didn’t like him.” + +“Fred likes no one but Dora Stanhope.” + +“Eh! What! Is that nonsense going on yet?” + +Then Ethel described her last two interviews with Dora. She did this +with scrupulous fidelity, making no suggestions that might prejudice the +case. For she really wanted her grandmother’s decision in order to frame +her own conduct by it. Madam was not, however, in a hurry to give it. + +“What do you think?” she asked Ethel. + +“I have known Dora for many years; she has always told me everything.” + +“But nothing about Fred?” + +“Nothing.” + +“Nothing to tell, perhaps?” + +“Perhaps.” + +“Where does her excellent husband come in?” + +“She says he is very kind to her in his way.” + +“And his way is to drag her over the world to see the cathedrals +thereof, and to vary that pleasure with inspecting schools and +reformatories and listening to great preachers. Upon my word, I feel +sorry for the child! And I know all about such excellent people as the +Stanhopes. I used to go to what they call ‘a pleasant evening’ with +them. We sat around a big room lit with wax candles, and held improving +conversation, or some one sang one or two of Mrs. Hemans’ songs, like +‘Passing Away’ or ‘He Never Smiled Again.’ Perhaps there was a comic +recitation, at which no one laughed, and finally we had wine and hot +water--they called it ‘port negus’--and tongue sandwiches and caraway +cakes. My dear Ethel, I yawn now when I think of those dreary evenings. +What must Dora have felt, right out of the maelstrom of New York’s +operas and theaters and dancing parties?” + +“Still, Dora ought to try to feel some interest in the church affairs. +She says she does not care a hairpin for them, and Basil feels so hurt.” + +“I dare say he does, poor fellow! He thinks St. Jude’s Kindergarten and +sewing circles and missionary societies are the only joys in the world. +Right enough for Basil, but how about Dora?” + +“They are his profession; she ought to feel an interest in them.” + +“Come now, look at the question sensibly. Did Dora’s father bring his +‘deals’ and stock-jobbery home, and expect Dora and her mother to feel +an interest in them? Do doctors tell their wives about their patients, +and expect them to pay sympathizing visits? Does your father expect Ruth +and yourself to listen to his cases and arguments, and visit his poor +clients or make underclothing for them? Do men, in general, consider it +a wife’s place to interfere in their profession or business?” + +“Clergymen are different.” + +“Not at all. Preaching and philanthropy is their business. They get so +much a year for doing it. I don’t believe St. Jude’s pays Mrs. Stanhope +a red cent. There now, and if she isn’t paid, she’s right not to work. +Amen to that!” + +“Before she was married Dora said she felt a great interest in church +work.” + +“I dare say she did. Marriage makes a deal of difference in a woman’s +likes and dislikes. Church work was courting-time before marriage; after +marriage she had other opportunities.” + +“I think you might speak to Fred Mostyn----” + +“I might, but it wouldn’t be worth while. Be true to your friend as long +as you can. In Yorkshire we stand by our friends, right or wrong, and +we aren’t too particular as to their being right. My father enjoyed +justifying a man that everyone else was down on; and I’ve stood by many +a woman nobody had a good word for. I was never sorry for doing it, +either. I’ll be going into a strange country soon, and I should not +wonder if some of them that have gone there first will be ready to stand +by me. We don’t know what friends we’ll be glad of there.” + +The dinner bell broke up this conversation, and Ethel during it told +Madam about the cook and cooking at the Court and at Nicholas +Rawdon’s, where John Thomas had installed a French chef. Other domestic +arrangements were discussed, and when the Judge called for his daughter +at four o’clock, Madam vowed “she had spent one of the happiest days of +her life.” + +“Ruth tells me,” said the Judge, “that Dora Stanhope called for Ethel +soon after she left home this morning. Ruth seems troubled at the +continuance of this friendship. Have you spoken to your grandmother, +Ethel, about Dora?” + +“She has told me all there is to tell, I dare say,” answered Madam. + +“Well, mother, what do you think?” + +“I see no harm in it yet awhile. It is not fair, Edward, to condemn upon +likelihoods. We are no saints, sinful men and women, all of us, and as +much inclined to forbidden fruit as any good Christians can be. Ethel +can do as she feels about it; she’s got a mind of her own, and I hope to +goodness she’ll not let Ruth Bayard bit and bridle it.” + +Going home the Judge evidently pondered this question, for he said after +a lengthy silence, “Grandmother’s ethics do not always fit the social +ethics of this day, Ethel. She criticises people with her heart, not +her intellect. You must be prudent. There is a remarkable thing called +Respectability to be reckoned with remember that.” + +And Ethel answered, “No one need worry about Dora. Some women may show +the edges of their character soiled and ragged, but Dora will be sure +to have hers reputably finished with a hem of the widest propriety.” + And after a short silence the Judge added, almost in soliloquy, “And, +moreover, Ethel, + + “‘There’s a divinity that shapes our ends, + Rough-hew them how we will.’” + + + + + +PART FOURTH -- THE REAPING OF THE SOWING + + + +CHAPTER X + +WHEN Ethel and Tyrrel parted at the steamer they did not expect a long +separation, but Colonel Rawdon never recovered his health, and for many +excellent reasons Tyrrel could not leave the dying man. Nor did Ethel +wish him to do so. Under these circumstances began the second beautiful +phase of Ethel’s wooing, a sweet, daily correspondence, the best of +all preparations for matrimonial oneness and understanding. Looking for +Tyrrel’s letters, reading them, and answering them passed many happy +hours, for to both it was an absolute necessity to assure each other +constantly, + + “Since I wrote thee yester eve + I do love thee, Love, believe, + Twelve times dearer, twelve hours longer, + One dream deeper one night stronger, + One sun surer--this much more + Than I loved thee, dear, before.” + +And for the rest, she took up her old life with a fresh enthusiasm. + +Among these interests none were more urgent in their claims than Dora +Stanhope; and fortified by her grandmother’s opinion, Ethel went at once +to call on her. She found Basil with his wife, and his efforts to make +Ethel see how much he expected from her influence, and yet at the same +time not even hint a disapproval of Dora, were almost pathetic, for he +was so void of sophistry that his innuendoes were flagrantly open to +detection. Dora felt a contempt for them, and he had hardly left the +room ere she said: + +“Basil has gone to his vestry in high spirits. When I told him you were +coming to see me to-day he smiled like an angel. He believes you will +keep me out of mischief, and he feels a grand confidence in something +which he calls ‘your influence.’” + +“What do you mean by mischief?” + +“Oh, I suppose going about with Fred Mostyn. I can’t help that. I must +have some one to look after me. All the young men I used to know pass me +now with a lifted hat or a word or two. The girls have forgotten me. I +don’t suppose I shall be asked to a single dance this winter.” + +“The ladies in St. Jude’s church would make a pet of you if----” + +“The old cats and kittens! No, thank you, I am not going to church +except on Sunday mornings--that is respectable and right; but as to +being the pet of St. Jude’s ladies! No, no! How they would mew over my +delinquencies, and what scratches I should get from their velvet-shod +claws! If I have to be talked about, I prefer the ladies of the world to +discuss my frailties.” + +“But if I were you, I would give no one a reason for saying a word +against me. Why should you?” + +“Fred will supply them with reasons. I can’t keep the man away from me. +I don’t believe I want to--he is very nice and useful.” + +“You are talking nonsense, things you don’t mean, Dora. You are not +such a foolish woman as to like to be seen with Fred Mostyn, that little +monocular snob, after the aristocratic, handsome Basil Stanhope. The +comparison is a mockery. Basil is the finest gentleman I ever saw. +Socially, he is perfection, and----” + +“He is only a clergyman.” + +“Even as a clergyman he is of religiously royal descent. There are +generations of clergymen behind him, and he is a prince in the pulpit. +Every man that knows him gives him the highest respect, every woman +thinks you the most fortunate of wives. No one cares for Fred Mostyn. +Even in his native place he is held in contempt. He had nine hundred +votes to young Rawdon’s twelve thousand.” + +“I don’t mind that. I am going to the matinee to-morrow with Fred. He +wanted to take me out in his auto this afternoon, but when I said I +would go if you would he drew back. What is the reason? Did he make you +offer of his hand? Did you refuse it?” + +“He never made me an offer. I count that to myself as a great +compliment. If he had done such a thing, he would certainly have been +refused.” + +“I can tell that he really hates you. What dirty trick did you serve him +about Rawdon Court?” + +“So he called the release of Squire Rawdon a ‘dirty trick’? It would +have been a very dirty trick to have let Fred Mostyn get his way with +Squire Rawdon.” + +“Of course, Ethel, when a man lends his money as an obligation he +expects to get it back again.” + +“Mostyn got every farthing due him, and he wanted one of the finest +manors in Eng-land in return for the obligation. He did not get it, +thank God and my father!” + +“He will not forget your father’s interference.” + +“I hope he will remember it.” + +“Do you know who furnished the money to pay Fred? He says he is sure +your father did not have it.” + +“Tell him to ask my father. He might even ask your father. Whether my +father had the money or not was immaterial. Father could borrow any sum +he wanted, I think.” + +“Whom did he borrow from?” + +“I am sure that Fred told you to ask that question. Is he writing to +you, Dora?” + +“Suppose he is?” + +“I cannot suppose such a thing. It is too impossible.” + +This was the beginning of a series of events all more or less qualified +to bring about unspeakable misery in Basil’s home. But there is nothing +in life like the marriage tie. The tugs it will bear and not break, the +wrongs it will look over, the chronic misunderstandings it will forgive, +make it one of the mysteries of humanity. It was not in a day or a week +that Basil Stanhope’s dream of love and home was shattered. Dora had +frequent and then less frequent times of return to her better self; and +every such time renewed her husband’s hope that she was merely passing +through a period of transition and assimilation, and that in the end she +would be all his desire hoped for. + +But Ethel saw what he did not see, that Mostyn was gradually inspiring +her with his own opinions, perhaps even with his own passion. In +this emergency, however, she was gratified to find that Dora’s mother +appeared to have grasped the situation. For if Dora went to the theater +with Mostyn, Mrs. Denning or Bryce was also there; and the reckless +auto driving, shopping, and lunching had at least a show of +respectable association. Yet when the opera season opened, the constant +companionship of Mostyn and Dora became entirely too remarkable, not +only in the public estimation, but in Basil’s miserable conception of +his own wrong. The young husband used every art and persuasion--and +failed. And his failure was too apparent to be slighted. He became +feverish and nervous, and his friends read his misery in eyes heavy +with unshed tears, and in the wasting pallor caused by his sleepless, +sorrowful nights. + +Dora also showed signs of the change so rapidly working on her. She was +sullen and passionate by turns; she complained bitterly to Ethel that +her youth and beauty had been wasted; that she was only nineteen, and +her life was over. She wanted to go to Paris, to get away from New York +anywhere and anyhow. She began to dislike even the presence of Basil. +His stately beauty offended her, his low, calm voice was the very +keynote of irritation. + +One morning near Christmas he came to her with a smiling, radiant face. +“Dora,” he said, “Dora, my love, I have something so interesting to +tell you. Mrs. Colby and Mrs. Schaffler and some other ladies have a +beautiful idea. They wish to give all the children of the church under +eight years old the grandest Christmas tree imaginable--really rich +presents and they thought you might like to have it here.” + +“What do you say, Basil!” + +“You were always so fond of children. You----” + +“I never could endure them.” + +“We all thought you might enjoy it. Indeed, I was so sure that I +promised for you. It will be such a pleasure to me also, dear.” + +“I will have no such childish nonsense in my house.” + +“I promised it, Dora.” + +“You had no right to do so. This is my house. My father bought it and +gave me it, and it is my own. I----” + +“It seems, then, that I intrude in your house. Is it so? Speak, Dora.” + +“If you will ask questions you must take the answer. You do intrude when +you come with such ridiculous proposals--in fact, you intrude very often +lately.” + +“Does Mr. Mostyn intrude?” + +“Mr. Mostyn takes me out, gives me a little sensible pleasure. You think +I can be interested in a Christmas tree. The idea!” + +“Alas, alas, Dora, you are tired of me! You do not love me! You do not +love me!” + +“I love nobody. I am sorry I got married. It was all a mistake. I will +go home and then you can get a divorce.” + +At this last word the whole man changed. He was suffused, transfigured +with an anger that was at once righteous and impetuous. + +“How dare you use that word to me?” he demanded. “To the priest of +God no such word exists. I do not know it. You are my wife, willing or +unwilling. You are my wife forever, whether you dwell with me or +not. You cannot sever bonds the Almighty has tied. You are mine, Dora +Stanhope! Mine for time and eternity! Mine forever and ever!” + +She looked at him in amazement, and saw a man after an image she had +never imagined. She was terrified. She flung herself on the sofa in +a whirlwind of passion. She cried aloud against his claim. She gave +herself up to a vehement rage that was strongly infused with a childish +dismay and panic. + +“I will not be your wife forever!” she shrieked. “I will never be your +wife again--never, not for one hour! Let me go! Take your hands off me!” + For Basil had knelt down by the distraught woman, and clasping her in +his arms said, even on her lips, “You ARE my dear wife! You are my very +own dear wife! Tell me what to do. Anything that is right, reasonable I +will do. We can never part.” + +“I will go to my father. I will never come back to you.” And with these +words she rose, threw off his embrace, and with a sobbing cry ran, like +a terrified child, out of the room. + +He sat down exhausted by his emotion, and sick with the thought she had +evoked in that one evil word. The publicity, the disgrace, the wrong +to Holy Church--ah, that was the cruelest wound! His own wrong was hard +enough, but that he, who would gladly die for the Church, should put +her to open shame! How could he bear it? Though it killed him, he must +prevent that wrong; yes, if the right eye offended it must be plucked +out. He must throw off his cassock, and turn away from the sacred +aisles; he must--he could not say the word; he would wait a little. Dora +would not leave him; it was impossible. He waited in a trance of aching +suspense. Nothing for an hour or more broke it--no footfall, no sound of +command or complaint. He was finally in hopes that Dora slept. Then he +was called to lunch, and he made a pretense of eating it alone. Dora +sent no excuse for her absence, and he could not trust himself to make +inquiry about her. In the middle of the afternoon he heard a carriage +drive to the door, and Dora, with her jewel-case in her hand, entered +it and was driven away. The sight astounded him. He ran to her room, and +found her maid packing her clothing. The woman answered his questions +sullenly. She said “Mrs. Stanhope had gone to Mrs. Denning’s, and had +left orders for her trunks to be sent there.” Beyond this she was silent +and ignorant. No sympathy for either husband or wife was in her heart. +Their quarrel was interfering with her own plans; she hated both of them +in consequence. + +In the meantime Dora had reached her home. Her mother was dismayed and +hesitating, and her attitude raised again in Dora’s heart the passion +which had provoked the step she had taken. She wept like a lost child. +She exclaimed against the horror of being Basil’s wife forever and ever. +She reproached her mother for suffering her to marry while she was only +a child. She said she had been cruelly used in order to get the family +into social recognition. She was in a frenzy of grief at her supposed +sacrifice when her father came home. Her case was then won. With her +arms round his neck, sobbing against his heart, her tears and entreaties +on his lips, Ben Denning had no feeling and no care for anyone but his +daughter. He took her view of things at once. “She HAD been badly used. +It WAS a shame to tie a girl like Dora to sermons and such like. It was +like shutting her up in a convent.” Dora’s tears and complaints fired +him beyond reason. He promised her freedom whatever it cost him. + +And while he sat in his private room considering the case, all the +racial passions of his rough ancestry burning within him, Basil Stanhope +called to see him. He permitted him to come into his presence, but he +rose as he entered, and walked hastily a few steps to meet him. + +“What do you want here, sir?” he asked. + +“My wife.” + +“My daughter. You shall not see her. I have taken her back to my own +care.” + +“She is my wife. No one can take her from me.” + +“I will teach you a different lesson.” + +“The law of God.” + +“The law of the land goes here. You’ll find it more than you can defy.” + +“Sir, I entreat you to let me speak to Dora.” + +“I will not.” + +“I will stay here until I see her.” + +“I will give you five minutes. I do not wish to offer your profession an +insult; if you have any respect for it you will obey me.” + +“Answer me one question--what have I done wrong?” + +“A man can be so intolerably right, that he becomes unbearably wrong. +You have no business with a wife and a home. You are a d---- sight too +good for a good little girl that wants a bit of innocent amusement. +Sermons and Christmas trees! Great Scott, what sensible woman would not +be sick of it all? Sir, I don’t want another minute of your company. +Little wonder that my Dora is ill with it. Oblige me by leaving my house +as quietly as possible.” And he walked to the door, flung it open, and +stood glaring at the distracted husband. “Go,” he said. “Go at once. +My lawyer will see you in the future. I have nothing further to say to +you.” + +Basil went, but not to his desolate home. He had a private key to the +vestry in his church, and in its darkness and solitude he faced the +first shock of his ruined life, for he knew well all was over. All had +been. He sank to the floor at the foot of the large cross which hung on +its bare white walls. Grief’s illimitable wave went over him, and like a +drowning man he uttered an inarticulate cry of agony--the cry of a soul +that had wronged its destiny. Love had betrayed him to ruin. All he had +done must be abandoned. All he had won must be given up. Sin and shame +indeed it would be if in his person a sacrament of the Church should be +dragged through a divorce court. All other considerations paled before +this disgrace. He must resign his curacy, strip himself of the honorable +livery of heaven, obliterate his person and his name. It was a kind of +death. + +After awhile he rose, drank some water, lifted the shade and let the +moonlight in. Then about that little room he walked with God through the +long night, telling Him his sorrow and perplexity. And there is a depth +in our own nature where the divine and human are one. That night Basil +Stanhope found it, and henceforward knew that the bitterness of death +was behind him, not before. “I made my nest too dear on earth,” he +sighed, “and it has been swept bare--that is, that I may build in +heaven.” + +Now, the revelation of sorrow is the clearest of all revelations. +Stanhope understood that hour what he must do. No doubts weakened his +course. He went back to the house Dora called “hers,” took away what he +valued, and while the servants were eating their breakfast and talking +over his marital troubles, he passed across its threshold for the last +time. He told no one where he was going; he dropped as silently and +dumbly out of the life that had known him as a stone dropped into +mid-ocean. + +Ethel considered herself fortunate in being from home at the time this +disastrous culmination of Basil Stanhope’s married life was reached. On +that same morning the Judge, accompanied by Ruth and herself, had gone +to Lenox to spend the holidays with some old friends, and she was quite +ignorant of the matter when she returned after the New Year. Bryce was +her first informant. He called specially to give her the news. He said +his sister had been too ill and too busy to write. He had no word of +sympathy for the unhappy pair. He spoke only of the anxiety it had +caused him. “He was now engaged,” he said, “to Miss Caldwell, and she +was such an extremely proper, innocent lady, and a member of St. Jude’s, +it had really been a trying time for her.” Bryce also reminded Ethel +that he had been against Basil Stanhope from the first. “He had always +known how that marriage would end,” and so on. + +Ethel declined to give any opinion. “She must hear both sides,” she +said. “Dora had been so reasonable lately, she had appeared happy.” + +“Oh, Dora is a little fox,” he replied; “she doubles on herself always.” + +Ruth was properly regretful. She wondered “if any married woman was +really happy.” She did not apparently concern herself about Basil. The +Judge rather leaned to Basil’s consideration. He understood that Dora’s +overt act had shattered his professional career as well as his personal +happiness. He could feel for the man there. “My dears,” he said, with +his dilettante air, “the goddess Calamity is delicate, and her feet +are tender. She treads not upon the ground, but makes her path upon the +hearts of men.” In this non-committal way he gave his comment, for he +usually found a bit of classical wisdom to fit modern emergencies, and +the habit had imparted an antique bon-ton to his conversation. Ethel +could only wonder at the lack of real sympathy. + +In the morning she went to see her grandmother. The old lady had “heard” + all she wanted to hear about Dora and Basil Stanhope. If men would +marry a fool because she was young and pretty, they must take the +consequences. “And why should Stanhope have married at all?” she asked +indignantly. “No man can serve God and a woman at the same time. He +had to be a bad priest and a good husband, or a bad husband and a good +priest. Basil Stanhope was honored, was doing good, and he must needs be +happy also. He wanted too much, and lost everything. Serve him right.” + +“All can now find some fault in poor Basil Stanhope,” said Ethel. +“Bryce was bitter against him because Miss Caldwell shivers at the word +‘divorce.’” + +“What has Bryce to do with Jane Caldwell?” + +“He is going to marry her, he says.” + +“Like enough; she’s a merry miss of two-score, and rich. Bryce’s +marriage with anyone will be a well-considered affair--a marriage with +all the advantages of a good bargain. I’m tired of the whole subject. +If women will marry they should be as patient as Griselda, in case there +ever was such a woman; if not, there’s an end of the matter.” + +“There are no Griseldas in this century, grandmother.” + +“Then there ought to be no marriages. Basil Stanhope was a grand man in +public. What kind of a man was he in his home? Measure a man by his +home conduct, and you’ll not go wrong. It’s the right place to draw your +picture of him, I can tell you that.” + +“He has no home now, poor fellow.” + +“Whose fault was it? God only knows. Where is his wife?” + +“She has gone to Paris.” + +“She has gone to the right place if she wants to play the fool. But +there, now, God forbid I should judge her in the dark. Women should +stand by women--considering.” + +“Considering?” + +“What they may have to put up with. It is easy to see faults in others. +I have sometimes met with people who should see faults in themselves. +They are rather uncommon, though.” + +“I am sure Basil Stanhope will be miserable all his life. He will break +his heart, I do believe.” + +“Not so. A good heart is hard to break, it grows strong in trouble. +Basil Stanhope’s body will fail long before his heart does; and even so +an end must come to life, and after that peace or what God wills.” + +This scant sympathy Ethel found to be the usual tone among her +acquaintances. St. Jude’s got a new rector and a new idol, and the +Stanhope affair was relegated to the limbo of things “it was proper to +forget.” + +So the weeks of the long winter went by, and Ethel in the joy and hope +of her own love-life naturally put out of her mind the sorrow of lives +she could no longer help or influence. Indeed, as to Dora, there were +frequent reports of her marvelous social success in Paris; and Ethel +did not doubt Stanhope had found some everlasting gospel of holy work to +comfort his desolation. And then also + + “Each day brings its petty dust, + Our soon-choked souls to fill; + And we forget because we must, + And not because we will.” + + +One evening when May with heavy clouds and slant rains was making the +city as miserable as possible, Ethel had a caller. His card bore a name +quite unknown, and his appearance gave no clew to his identity. + +“Mr. Edmonds?” she said interrogatively. + +“Are you Miss Ethel Rawdon?” he asked. + +“Yes.” + +“Mr. Basil Stanhope told me to put this parcel in your hands.” + +“Oh, Mr. Stanhope! I am glad to hear from him. Where is he now?” + +“We buried him yesterday. He died last Sunday as the bells were ringing +for church--pneumonia, miss. While reading the ser-vice over a poor +young man he had nursed many weeks he took cold. The poor will miss him +sorely.” + +“DEAD!” She looked aghast at the speaker, and again ejaculated the +pitiful, astounding word. + +“Good evening, miss. I promised him to return at once to the work he +left me to do.” And he quietly departed, leaving Ethel standing with the +parcel in her hands. She ran upstairs and locked it away. Just then she +could not bear to open it. + +“And it is hardly twelve months since he was married,” she sobbed. “Oh, +Ruth, Ruth, it is too cruel!” + +“Dear,” answered Ruth, “there is no death to such a man as Basil +Stanhope.” + +“He was so young, Ruth.” + +“I know. ‘His high-born brothers called him hence’ at the age of +twenty-nine, but + + “‘It is not growing like a tree, + In bulk, doth make men better be; + Or standing like an oak three hundred year, + To fall at last, dry, bald and sear: + A lily of a day + Is fairer far in May; + Although it fall and die that night, + It was the plant and flower of light.’” + + +At these words the Judge put down his Review to listen to Ethel’s story, +and when she ceased speaking he had gone far further back than any +antique classic for compensation and satisfaction: + +“He being made perfect in a short time fulfilled a long time. For his +soul pleased the Lord, therefore hasted He to take him away from among +the wicked.” [2] And that evening there was little conversation. Every +heart was busy with its own thoughts. + +[Footnote 2: Wisdom of Solomon, IV., 13, 14.] + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +TRADE and commerce have their heroes as well as arms, and the struggle +in which Tyrrel Rawdon at last plucked victory from apparent failure was +as arduous a campaign as any military operations could have afforded. It +had entailed on him a ceaseless, undaunted watch over antagonists rich +and powerful; and a fight for rights which contained not only his own +fortune, but the honor of his father, so that to give up a fraction of +them was to turn traitor to the memory of a parent whom he believed +to be beyond all doubt or reproach. Money, political power, civic +influence, treachery, bribery, the law’s delay and many other +hindrances met him on every side, but his heart was encouraged daily to +perseverance by love’s tenderest sympathy. For he told Ethel everything, +and received both from her fine intuitions and her father’s legal skill +priceless comfort and advice. But at last the long trial was over, the +marriage day was set, and Tyrrel, with all his rights conceded, was +honorably free to seek the happiness he had safeguarded on every side. + +It was a lovely day in the beginning of May, nearly two years after +their first meeting, when Tyrrel reached New York. Ethel knew at what +hour his train would arrive, she was watching and listening for his +step. They met in each other’s arms, and the blessed hours of that happy +evening were an over-payment of delight for the long months of their +separation. + +In the morning Ethel was to introduce her lover to Madam Rawdon, and +side by side, almost hand in hand, they walked down the avenue together. +Walked? They were so happy they hardly knew whether their feet touched +earth or not. They had a constant inclination to clasp hands, to run as +little children run; They wished to smile at everyone, to bid all the +world good morning. Madam had resolved to be cool and careful in her +advances, but she quickly found herself unable to resist the sight of +so much love and hope and happiness. The young people together took her +heart by storm, and she felt herself compelled to express an interest in +their future, and to question Tyrrel about it. + +“What are you going to do with yourself or make of yourself?” she asked +Tyrrel one evening when they were sitting together. “I do hope you’ll +find some kind of work. Anything is better than loafing about clubs and +such like places.” + +“I am going to study law with Judge Rawdon. My late experience has +taught me its value. I do not think I shall loaf in his office.” + +“Not if he is anywhere around. He works and makes others work. Lawyering +is a queer business, but men can be honest in it if they want to.” + +“And, grandmother,” said Ethel, “my father says Tyrrel has a wonderful +gift for public speaking. He made a fine speech at father’s club last +night. Tyrrel will go into politics.” + +“Will he, indeed? Tyrrel is a wonder. If he manages to walk his shoes +straight in the zigzaggery ways of the law, he will be one of that grand +breed called ‘exceptions.’ As for politics, I don’t like them, far from +it. Your grandfather used to say they either found a man a rascal or +made him one. However, I’m ready to compromise on law and politics. I +was afraid with his grand voice he would set up for a tenor.” + +Tyrrel laughed. “I did once think of that role,” he said. + +“I fancied that. Whoever taught you to use your voice knew a thing or +two about singing. I’ll say that much.” + +“My mother taught me.” + +“Never! I wonder now!” + +“She was a famous singer. She was a great and a good woman. I owe her +for every excellent quality there is in me.” + +“No, you don’t. You have got your black eyes and hair her way, +I’ll warrant that, but your solid make-up, your pluck and grit and +perseverance is the Rawdon in you. Without Rawdon you would very +likely now be strutting about some opera stage, playing at kings and +lovemaking.” + +“As it is----” + +“As it is, you will be lord consort of Rawdon Manor, with a silver mine +to back you.” + +“I am sorry about the Manor,” said Tyrrel. “I wish the dear old Squire +were alive to meet Ethel and myself.” + +“To be sure you do. But I dare say that he is glad now to have passed +out of it. Death is a mystery to those left, but I have no doubt it +is satisfying to those who have gone away. He died as he lived, very +properly; walked in the garden that morning as far as the strawberry +beds, and the gardener gave him the first ripe half-dozen in a young +cabbage leaf, and he ate them like a boy, and said they tasted as +if grown in Paradise, then strolled home and asked Joel to shake the +pillows on the sofa in the hall, laid himself down, shuffled his head +easy among them, and fell on sleep. So Death the Deliverer found him. A +good going home! Nothing to fear in it.” + +“Ethel tells me that Mr. Mostyn is now living at Mostyn Hall.” + +“Yes, he married that girl he would have sold his soul for and took her +there, four months only after her husband’s death. When I was young he +durst not have done it, the Yorkshire gentry would have cut them both.” + +“I think,” said Tyrrel, “American gentlemen of to-day felt much the +same. Will Madison told me that the club cut him as soon as Mrs. +Stanhope left her husband. He went there one day after it was known, and +no one saw him; finally he walked up to McLean, and would have sat down, +but McLean said, ‘Your company is not desired, Mr. Mostyn.’ Mostyn said +something in re-ply, and McLean answered sternly, ‘True, we are none +of us saints, but there are lines the worst of us will not pass; and +if there is any member of this club willing to interfere between a +bridegroom and his bride, I would like to kick him out of it.’ +Mostyn struck the table with some exclamation, and McLean continued, +‘Especially when the wronged husband is a gentleman of such stainless +character and unsuspecting nature as Basil Stanhope--a clergyman also! +Oh, the thing is beyond palliation entirely!’ And he walked away and +left Mostyn.” + +“Well,” said Madam, “if it came to kicking, two could play that game. +Fred is no coward. I don’t want to hear another word about them. They +will punish each other without our help. Let them alone. I hope you are +not going to have a crowd at your wedding. The quietest weddings are the +luckiest ones.” + +“About twenty of our most intimate friends are invited to the church,” + said Ethel. “There will be no reception until we return to New York in +the fall.” + +“No need of fuss here, there will be enough when you reach Monk-Rawdon. +The village will be garlanded and flagged, the bells ring-ing, and all +your tenants and retainers out to meet you.” + +“We intend to get into our own home without anyone being aware of it. +Come, Tyrrel, my dressmaker is waiting, I know. It is my wedding gown, +dear Granny, and oh, so lovely!” + +“You will not be any smarter than I intend to be, miss. You are shut off +from color. I can outdo you.” + +“I am sure you can--and will. Here comes father. What can he want?” They +met him at the door, and with a few laughing words left him with Madam. +She looked curiously into his face and asked, “What is it, Edward?” + +“I suppose they have told you all the arrangements. They are very +simple. Did they say anything about Ruth?” + +“They never named her. They said they were going to Washington for a +week, and then to Rawdon Court. Ruth seems out of it all. Are you going +to turn her adrift, or present her with a few thousand dollars? She has +been a mother to Ethel. Something ought to be done for Ruth Bayard.” + +“I intend to marry her.” + +“I thought so.” + +“She will go to her sister’s in Philadelphia for a month ‘s preparation. +I shall marry her there, and bring her home as my wife. She is a sweet, +gentle, docile woman. She will make me happy.” + +“Sweet, gentle, docile! Yes, that is the style of wife Rawdon men +prefer. What does Ethel say?” + +“She is delighted. It was her idea. I was much pleased with her +thoughtfulness. Any serious break in my life would now be a great +discomfort. You need not look so satirical, mother; I thought of Ruth’s +life also.” + +“Also an afterthought; but Ruth is gentle and docile, and she is +satisfied, and I am satisfied, so then everything is proper and everyone +content. Come for me at ten on Wednesday morning. I shall be ready. No +refreshments, I suppose. I must look after my own breakfast. Won’t you +feel a bit shabby, Edward?” And then the look and handclasp between them +turned every word into sweetness and good-will. + +And as Ethel regarded her marriage rather as a religious rite than +a social function, she objected to its details becoming in any sense +public, and her desires were to be regarded. Yet everyone may imagine +the white loveliness of the bride, the joy of the bridegroom, the +calm happiness of the family breakfast, and the leisurely, quiet +leave-taking. The whole ceremony was the right note struck at the +beginning of a new life, and they might justly expect it would move +onward in melodious sequence. + + +Within three weeks after their marriage they arrived at Rawdon Court. It +was on a day and at an hour when no one was looking for them, and +they stepped into the lovely home waiting for them without outside +observation. Hiring a carriage at the railway station, they dismissed it +at the little bridge near the Manor House, and sauntered happily through +the intervening space. The door of the great hall stood open, and the +fire, which had been burning on its big hearth unquenched for more +than three hundred years, was blazing merrily, as if some hand had just +replenished it. On the long table the broad, white beaver hat of the +dead Squire was lying, and his oak walking stick was beside it. No one +had liked to remove them. They remained just as he had put them down, +that last, peaceful morning of his life. + +In a few minutes the whole household was aware of their home-coming, and +before the day was over the whole neighborhood. Then there was no way +of avoiding the calls, the congratulations, and the entertainments +that followed, and the old Court was once more the center of a splendid +hospitality. Of course the Tyrrel-Rawdons were first on the scene, and +Ethel was genuinely glad to meet again the good-natured Mrs. Nicholas. +No one could give her better local advice, and Ethel quickly discovered +that the best general social laws require a local interpretation. Her +hands were full, her heart full, she had so many interests to share, so +many people to receive and to visit, and yet when two weeks passed and +Dora neither came nor wrote she was worried and dissatisfied. + +“Are the Mostyns at the Hall?” she asked Mrs. Nicholas at last. “I have +been expecting Mrs. Mostyn every day, but she neither comes nor writes +to me.” + +“I dare say not. Poor little woman! I’ll warrant she has been forbid to +do either. If Mostyn thought she wanted to see you, he would watch day +and night to prevent her coming. He’s turning out as cruel a man as his +father was, and you need not say a word worse than that.” + +“Cruel! Oh, dear, how dreadful! Men will drink and cheat and swear, but +a cruel man seems so unnatural, so wicked.” + +“To be sure, cruelty is the joy of devils. As I said to John Thomas when +we heard about Mostyn’s goings-on, we have got rid of the Wicked One, +but the wicked still remain with us.” + +This conversation having been opened, was naturally prolonged by the +relation of incidents which had come through various sources to Mrs. +Rawdon’s ears, all of them indicating an almost incredible system of +petty tyranny and cruel contradiction. Ethel was amazed, and finally +angry at what she heard. Dora was her countrywoman and her friend; +she instantly began to express her sympathy and her intention of +interfering. + +“You had better neither meddle nor make in the matter,” answered Mrs. +Rawdon. “Our Lucy went to see her, and gave her some advice about +managing Yorkshiremen. And as she was talking Mostyn came in, and was as +rude as he dared to be. Then Lucy asked him ‘if he was sick.’ She said, +‘All the men in the neighborhood, gentle and simple, were talking about +him, and that it wasn’t a pleasant thing to be talked about in the +way they were doing it. You must begin to look more like yourself, Mr. +Mostyn; it is good advice I am giving you,’ she added; and Mostyn told +her he would look as he felt, whether it was liked or not liked. +And Lucy laughed, and said, ‘In that case he would have to go to his +looking-glass for company.’ Well, Ethel, there was a time to joy a +devil after Lucy left, and some one of the servants went on their own +responsibility for a doctor; and Mostyn ordered him out of the house, +and he would not go until he saw Mrs. Mostyn; and the little woman was +forced to come and say ‘she was quite well,’ though she was sobbing all +the time she spoke. Then the doctor told Mostyn what he thought, and +there is a quarrel between them every time they meet.” + +But Ethel was not deterred by these statements; on the contrary, they +stimulated her interest in her friend. Dora needed her, and the old +feeling of protection stirred her to interference. At any rate, she +could call and see the unhappy woman; and though Tyrrel was opposed to +the visit, and thought it every way unwise, Ethel was resolved to +make it. “You can drive me there,” she said, “then go and see Justice +Manningham and call for me in half an hour.” And this resolution was +strengthened by a pitiful little note received from Dora just after her +decision. “Mostyn has gone to Thirsk,” it said; “for pity’s sake come +and see me about two o’clock this afternoon.” + +The request was promptly answered. As the clock struck two Ethel crossed +the threshold of the home that might have been hers. She shuddered at +the thought. The atmosphere of the house was full of fear and gloom, the +furniture dark and shabby, and she fancied the wraiths of old forgotten +crimes and sorrows were gliding about the sad, dim rooms and stairways. +Dora rose in a passion of tears to welcome her, and because time was +short instantly began her pitiful story. + +“You know how he adored me once,” she said; “would you believe it, +Ethel, we were not two weeks married when he began to hate me. He +dragged me through Europe in blazing heat and blinding snows when I was +sick and unfit to move. He brought me here in the depth of winter, and +when no one called on us he blamed me; and from morning till night, and +sometimes all night long, he taunts and torments me. After he heard that +you had bought the Manor he lost all control of himself. He will not let +me sleep. He walks the floor hour after hour, declaring he could have +had you and the finest manor in England but for a cat-faced woman +like me. And he blames me for poor Basil’s death--says we murdered +him together, and that he sees blood on my hands.” And she looked with +terror at her small, thin hands, and held them up as if to protest +against the charge. When she next spoke it was to sob out, “Poor Basil! +He would pity me! He would help me! He would forgive me! He knows now +that Mostyn was, and is, my evil genius.” + +“Do not cry so bitterly, Dora, it hurts me. Let us think. Is there +nothing you can do?” + +“I want to go to mother.” Then she drew Ethel’s head close to her and +whispered a few words, and Ethel answered, “You poor little one, you +shall go to your mother. Where is she?” + +“She will be in London next week, and I must see her. He will not let me +go, but go I must if I die for it. Mrs. John Thomas Rawdon told me what +to do, and I have been following her advice.” + +Ethel did not ask what it was, but added, + +“If Tyrrel and I can help you, send for us. We will come. And, Dora, +do stop weeping, and be brave. Remember you are an American woman. Your +father has often told me how you could ride with Indians or cowboys +and shoot with any miner in Colorado. A bully like Mostyn is always a +coward. Lift up your heart and stand for every one of your rights. You +will find plenty of friends to stand with you.” And with the words she +took her by the hands and raised her to her feet, and looked at her +with such a beaming, courageous smile that Dora caught its spirit, and +promised to insist on her claims for rest and sleep. + +“When shall I come again, Dora?” + +“Not till I send for you. Mother will be in London next Wednesday at +the Savoy. I intend to leave here Wednesday some time, and may need you; +will you come?” + +“Surely, both Tyrrel and I.” + +Then the time being on a dangerous line they parted. But Ethel could +think of nothing and talk of nothing but the frightful change in her +friend, and the unceasing misery which had produced it. Tyrrel shared +all her indignation. The slow torture of any creature was an intolerable +crime in his eyes, but when the brutality was exercised on a woman, and +on a countrywoman, he was roused to the highest pitch of indignation. +When Wednesday arrived he did not leave the house, but waited with +Ethel for the message they confidently expected. It came about five +o’clock--urgent, imperative, entreating, “Come, for God’s sake! He will +kill me.” + +The carriage was ready, and in half an hour they were at Mostyn Hall. No +one answered their summons, but as they stood listening and waiting, +a shrill cry of pain and anger pierced the silence. It was followed by +loud voices and a confused noise--noise of many talking and exclaiming. +Then Tyrrel no longer hesitated. He opened the door easily, and taking +Ethel on his arm, suddenly entered the parlor from which the clamor +came. Dora stood in the center of the room like an enraged pythoness, +her eyes blazing with passion. + +“See!” she cried as Tyrrel entered the room--“see!” And she held out +her arm, and pointed to her shoulder from which the lace hung in shreds, +showing the white flesh, red and bruised, where Mostyn had gripped her. +Then Tyrrel turned to Mostyn, who was held tightly in the grasp of +his gardener and coachman, and foaming with a rage that rendered his +explanation almost inarticulate, especially as the three women servants +gathered around their mistress added their railing and invectives to the +general confusion. + +“The witch! The cat-faced woman!” he screamed. “She wants to go to her +mother! Wants to play the trick she killed Basil Stanhope with! She +shall not! She shall not! I will kill her first! She is mad! I will +send her to an asylum! She is a little devil! I will send her to hell! +Nothing is bad enough--nothing----” + +“Mr. Mostyn,” said Tyrrel. + +“Out of my house! What are you doing here? Away! This is my house! Out +of it immediately!” + +“This man is insane,” said Tyrrel to Dora. “Put on your hat and cloak, +and come home with us.” + +“I am waiting for Justice Manningham,” she answered with a calm +subsidence of passion that angered Mostyn more than her reproaches. +“I have sent for him. He will be here in five minutes now. That +brute”--pointing to Mostyn--“must be kept under guard till I reach my +mother. The magistrate will bring a couple of constables with him.” + +“This is a plot, then! You hear it! You! You, Tyrrel Rawdon, and you, +Saint Ethel, are in it, all here on time. A plot, I say! Let me loose +that I may strangle the cat-faced creature. Look at her hands, they are +already bloody!” + +At these words Dora began to sob passionately, the servants, one and +all, to comfort her, or to abuse Mostyn, and in the height of the hubbub +Justice Manningham entered with two constables behind him. + +“Take charge of Mr. Mostyn,” he said to them, and as they laid their big +hands on his shoulders the Justice added, “You will consider yourself +under arrest, Mr. Mostyn.” + +And when nothing else could cow Mostyn, he was cowed by the law. He +sank almost fainting into his chair, and the Justice listened to Dora’s +story, and looked indignantly at the brutal man, when she showed him her +torn dress and bruised shoulder. “I entreat your Honor,” she said, “to +permit me to go to my mother who is now in London.” And he answered +kindly, “You shall go. You are in a condition only a mother can help and +comfort. As soon as I have taken your deposition you shall go.” + +No one paid any attention to Mostyn’s disclaimers and denials. The +Justice saw the state of affairs. Squire Rawdon and Mrs. Rawdon +testified to Dora’s ill-usage; the butler, the coachman, the stablemen, +the cook, the housemaids were all eager to bear witness to the same; and +Mrs. Mostyn’s appearance was too eloquent a plea for any humane man to +deny her the mother-help she asked for. + +Though neighbors and members of the same hunt and clubs, the Justice +took no more friendly notice of Mostyn than he would have taken of any +wife-beating cotton-weaver; and when all lawful preliminaries had been +arranged, he told Mrs. Mostyn that he should not take up Mr. Mostyn’s +case till Friday; and in the interval she would have time to put herself +under her mother’s care. She thanked him, weeping, and in her old, +pretty way kissed his hands, and “vowed he had saved her life, and +she would forever remember his goodness.” Mostyn mocked at her +“play-acting,” and was sternly reproved by the Justice; and then Tyrrel +and Ethel took charge of Mrs. Mostyn until she was ready to leave for +London. + +She was more nearly ready than they expected. All her trunks were +packed, and the butler promised to take them immediately to the railway +station. In a quarter of an hour she appeared in traveling costume, with +her jewels in a bag, which she carried in her hand. There was a train +for London passing Monk-Rawdon at eight o’clock; and after Justice +Manningham had left, the cook brought in some dinner, which Dora asked +the Rawdons to share with her. It was, perhaps, a necessary but a +painful meal. No one noticed Mostyn. He was enforced to sit still and +watch its progress, which he accompanied with curses it would be a kind +of sacrilege to write down. But no one answered him, and no one noticed +the orders he gave for his own dinner, until Dora rose to leave forever +the house of bondage. Then she said to the cook: + +“See that those gentlemanly constables have something good to eat and to +drink, and when they have been served you may give that man”--pointing +to Mostyn--“the dinner of bread and water he has so often prescribed +for me. After my train leaves you are all free to go to your own homes. +Farewell, friends!” + +Then Mostyn raved again, and finally tried his old loving terms. “Come +back to me, Dora,” he called frantically. “Come back, dearest, sweetest +Dora, I will be your lover forever. I will never say another cross word +to you.” + +But Dora heard not and saw not. She left the room without a glance at +the man sitting cowering between the officers, and blubbering with shame +and passion and the sense of total loss. In a few minutes he heard the +Rawdon carriage drive to the door. Tyrrel and Ethel assisted Dora into +it, and the party drove at once to the railway station. They were just +able to catch the London train. The butler came up to report all the +trunks safely forwarded, and Dora dropped gold into his hand, and +bade him clear the house of servants as soon as the morning broke. +Fortunately there was no time for last words and promises; the train +began to move, and Tyrrel and Ethel, after watching Dora’s white face +glide into the darkness, turned silently away. That depression which +so often follows the lifting of burdens not intended for our shoulders +weighed on their hearts and made speech difficult. Tyrrel was especially +affected by it. A quick feeling of something like sympathy for Mostyn +would not be reasoned away, and he drew Ethel close within his arm, and +gave the coachman an order to drive home as quickly as possible, for +twilight was already becoming night, and under the trees the darkness +felt oppressive. + +The little fire on the hearth and their belated dinner somewhat relieved +the tension; but it was not until they had retired to a small parlor, +and Tyrrel had smoked a cigar, that the tragedy of the evening became a +possible topic of conversation. Tyrrel opened the subject by a question +as to whether “he ought to have gone with Dora to London.” + +“Dora opposed the idea strongly when I named it to her,” answered Ethel. +“She said it would give opportunities for Mostyn to slander both herself +and you, and I think she was correct. Every way she was best alone.” + +“Perhaps, but I feel as if I ought to have gone, as if I had been +something less than a gentleman; in fact, as if I had been very +un-gentle.” + +“There is no need,” answered Ethel a little coldly. + +“It is a terrible position for Mostyn.” + +“He deserves it.” + +“He is so sensitive about public opinion.” + +“In that case he should behave decently in private.” + +Then Tyrrel lit another cigar, and there was another silence, which +Ethel occupied in irritating thoughts of Dora’s unfortunate fatality in +trouble-making. She sat at a little table standing between herself and +Tyrrel. It held his smoking utensils, and after awhile she pushed them +aside, and let the splendid rings which adorned her hand fall into the +cleared space. Tyrrel watched her a few moments, and then asked, “What +are you doing, Ethel, my dear?” + +She looked up with a smile, and then down at the hand she had laid open +upon the table. “I am looking at the Ring of all Rings. See, Tyrrel, it +is but a little band of gold, and yet it gave me more than all the gems +of earth could buy. Rubies and opals and sapphires are only its guard. +The simple wedding ring is the ring of great price. It is the loveliest +ornament a happy woman can wear.” + +Tyrrel took her hand and kissed it, and kissed the golden band, and then +answered, “Truly an ornament if a happy wife wears it; but oh, Ethel, +what is it when it binds a woman to such misery as Dora has just fled +from?” + +“Then it is a fetter, and a woman who has a particle of self-respect +will break it. The Ring of all Rings!” she ejaculated again, as she +lifted the rubies and opals, and slowly but smilingly encircled the +little gold band. + +“Let us try now to forget that sorrowful woman,” said Tyrrel. “She will +be with her mother in a few hours. Mother-love can cure all griefs. It +never fails. It never blames. It never grows weary. It is always young +and warm and true. Dora will be comforted. Let us forget; we can do no +more.” + +For a couple of days this was possible, but then came Mrs. Nicholas +Rawdon, and the subject was perforce opened. “It was a bad case,” she +said, “but it is being settled as quickly and as quietly as possible. I +believe the man has entered into some sort of recognizance to keep the +peace, and has disappeared. No one will look for him. The gentry are +against pulling one another down in any way, and this affair they +don’t want talked about. Being all of them married men, it isn’t to be +expected, is it? Justice Manningham was very sorry for the little +lady, but he said also ‘it was a bad precedent, and ought not to be +discussed.’ And Squire Bentley said, ‘If English gentlemen would marry +American women, they must put up with American women’s ways,’ and so on. +None of them think it prudent to approve Mrs. Mostyn’s course. But they +won’t get off as easy as they think. The women are standing up for her. +Did you ever hear anything like that? And I’ll warrant some husbands are +none so easy in their minds, as my Nicholas said, ‘Mrs. Mostyn had sown +seed that would be seen and heard tell of for many a long day.’ Our +Lucy, I suspect, had more to do with the move than she will confess. She +got a lot of new, queer notions at college, and I do believe in my heart +she set the poor woman up to the business. John Thomas, of course, says +not a word, but he looks at Lucy in a very proud kind of way; and I’ll +be bound he has got an object lesson he’ll remember as long as he lives. +So has Nicholas, though he bluffs more than a little as to what he’d +do with a wife that got a running-away notion into her head. Bless you, +dear, they are all formulating their laws on the subject, and their +wives are smiling queerly at them, and holding their heads a bit higher +than usual. I’ve been doing it myself, so I know how they feel.” + +Thus, though very little was said in the newspapers about the affair, +the notoriety Mostyn dreaded was complete and thorough. It was the +private topic of conversation in every household. Men talked it over in +all the places where men met, and women hired the old Mostyn servants in +order to get the very surest and latest story of the poor wife’s wrongs, +and then compared reports and even discussed the circumstances in their +own particular clubs. + +At the Court, Tyrrel and Ethel tried to forget, and their own interests +were so many and so important that they usually succeeded; especially +after a few lines from Mrs. Denning assured them of Dora’s safety and +comfort. And for many weeks the busy life of the Manor sufficed; there +was the hay to cut in the meadow lands, and after it the wheat fields +to harvest. The stables, the kennels, the farms and timber, the park and +the garden kept Tyrrel constantly busy. And to these duties were added +the social ones, the dining and dancing and entertaining, the horse +racing, the regattas, and the enthusiasm which automobiling in its first +fever engenders. + +And yet there were times when Tyrrel looked bored, and when nothing but +Squire Percival’s organ or Ethel’s piano seemed to exorcise the unrest +and ennui that could not be hid. Ethel watched these moods with a +wise and kind curiosity, and in the beginning of September, when they +perceptibly increased, she asked one day, “Are you happy, Tyrrel? Quite +happy?” + +“I am having a splendid holiday,” he answered, “but----” + +“But what, dear?” + +“One could not turn life into a long holiday--that would be harder than +the hardest work.” + +She answered “Yes,” and as soon as she was alone fell to thinking, and +in the midst of her meditation Mrs. Nicholas Rawdon entered in a whirl +of tempestuous delight. + +“What do you think?” she asked between laughing and crying. “Whatever do +you think? Our Lucy had twins yesterday, two fine boys as ever was. And +I wish you could see their grandfather and their father. They are out of +themselves with joy. They stand hour after hour beside the two cradles, +looking at the little fellows, and they nearly came to words this +morning about their names.” + +“I am so delighted!” cried Ethel. “And what are you going to call them?” + +“One is an hour older than the other, and John Thomas wanted them called +Percival and Nicholas. But my Nicholas wanted the eldest called after +himself, and he said so plain enough. And John Thomas said ‘he could +surely name his own sons; and then Nicholas told him to remember he +wouldn’t have been here to have any sons at all but for his father.’ And +just then I came into the room to have a look at the little lads, and +when I heard what they were fratching about, I told them it was none of +their business, that Lucy had the right to name the children, and they +would just have to put up with the names she gave them.” + +“And has Lucy named them?” + +“To be sure. I went right away to her and explained the dilemma, and +I said, ‘Now, Lucy, it is your place to settle this question.’ And she +answered in her positive little way, ‘You tell father the eldest is to +be called Nicholas, and tell John Thomas the youngest is to be called +John Thomas. I can manage two of that name very well. And say that +I won’t have any more disputing about names, the boys are as good as +christened already.’ And of course when Lucy said that we all knew it +was settled. And I’m glad the eldest is Nicholas. He is a fine, sturdy +little Yorkshireman, bawling out already for what he wants, and flying +into a temper if he doesn’t get it as soon as he wants it. Dearie me, +Ethel, I am a proud woman this morning. And Nicholas is going to give +all the hands a holiday, and a trip up to Ambleside on Saturday, though +John Thomas is very much against it.” + +“Why is he against it?” + +“He says they will be holding a meeting on Monday night to try and find +out what Old Nicholas is up to, and that if he doesn’t give them the +same treat on the same date next year, they’ll hold an indignation +meeting about being swindled out of their rights. And I’ll pledge you my +word John Thomas knows the men he’s talking about. However, Nicholas +is close with his money, and it will do him good happen to lose a bit. +Blood-letting is healthy for the body, and perhaps gold-letting may help +the soul more than we think for.” + +This news stimulated Ethel’s thinking, and when she also stood beside +the two cradles, and the little Nicholas opened his big blue eyes and +began to “bawl for what he wanted,” a certain idea took fast hold of +her, and she nursed it silently for the next month, watch-ing Tyrrel at +the same time. It was near October, however, before she found the proper +opportunity for speaking. There had been a long letter from the Judge. +It said Ruth and he were home again after a wonderful trip over the +Northern Pacific road. He wrote with enthusiasm of the country and its +opportunities, and of the big cities they had visited on their return +from the Pacific coast. Every word was alive, the magnitude and stir of +traffic and wrestling humanity seemed to rustle the paper. He described +New York as overflowing with business. His own plans, the plans of +others, the jar of politics, the thrill of music and the drama--all the +multitudinous vitality that crowded the streets and filled the air, even +to the roofs of the twenty-story buildings, contributed to the potent +exhilaration of the letter. + +“Great George!” exclaimed Tyrrel. “That is life! That is living! I wish +we were back in America!” + +“So do I, Tyrrel.” + +“I am so glad. When shall we go? It is now the twenty-eighth of +September.” + +“Are you very weary of Rawdon Court”’ + +“Yes. If a man could live for the sake of eating and sleeping and having +a pleasant time, why Rawdon Court would be a heaven to him; but if he +wants to DO something with his life, he would be most unhappy here.” + +“And you want to do something?” + +“You would not have loved a man who did not want TO DO. We have been +here four months. Think of it! If I take four months out of every year +for twenty years, I shall lose, with travel, about seven years of +my life, and the other things to be dropped with them may be of +incalculable value.” + +“I see, Tyrrel. I am not bound in any way to keep Rawdon Court. I can +sell it to-morrow.” + +“But you would be grieved to do so?” + +“Not at all. Being a lady of the Manor does not flatter me. The other +squires would rather have a good man in my place.” + +“Why did you buy it?” + +“As I have told you, to keep Mostyn out, and to keep a Rawdon here. But +Nicholas Rawdon craves the place, and will pay well for his desire. It +cost me eighty thousand pounds. He told father he would gladly give me +one hundred thousand pounds whenever I was tired of my bargain. I will +take the hundred thousand pounds to-morrow. There would then be four +good heirs to Rawdon on the place.” + +Here the conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Nicholas, who came to +invite them to the christening feast of the twins. Tyrrel soon left the +ladies together, and Ethel at once opened the desired conversation. + +“I am afraid we may have left the Court before the christening,” she +said. “Mr. Rawdon is very unhappy here. He is really homesick.” + +“But this is his home, isn’t it? And a very fine one.” + +“He cannot feel it so. He has large interests in America. I doubt if +I ever induce him to come here again. You see, this visit has been our +marriage trip.” + +“And you won’t live here! I never heard the line. What will you do with +the Court? It will be badly used if it is left to servants seven or +eight months every year.” + +“I suppose I must sell it. I see no----” + +“If you only would let Nicholas buy it. You might be sure then it would +be well cared for, and the little lads growing up in it, who would +finally heir it. Oh, Ethel, if you would think of Nicholas first. He +would honor the place and be an honor to it.” + +Out of this conversation the outcome was as satisfactory as it was +certain, and within two weeks Nicholas Rawdon was Squire of Rawdon +Manor, and possessor of the famous old Manor House. Then there followed +a busy two weeks for Tyrrel, who had the superintendence of the packing, +which was no light business. For though Ethel would not denude the Court +of its ancient furniture and ornaments, there were many things belonging +to the personal estate of the late Squire which had been given to her by +his will, and could not be left behind. But by the end of October cases +and trunks were all sent off to the steamship in which their passage was +taken; and the Rawdon estate, which had played such a momentous part in +Ethel’s life having finished its mission, had no further influence, and +without regret passed out of her physical life forever. + +Indeed, their willingness to resign all claims to the old home was a +marvel to both Tyrrel and Ethel. On their last afternoon there they +walked through the garden, and stood under the plane tree where +their vows of love had been pledged, and smiled and wondered at their +indifference. The beauteous glamor of first love was gone as completely +as the flowers and scents and songs that had then filled the charming +place. But amid the sweet decay of these things they once more clasped +hands, looking with supreme confidence into each other’s eyes. All that +had then been promised was now certain; and with an affection infinitely +sweeter and surer, Tyrrel drew Ethel to his heart, and on her lips +kissed the tenderest, proudest words a woman hears, “My dear wife!” + +This visit was their last adieu, all the rest had been said, and early +the next morning they left Monk-Rawdon station as quietly as they had +arrived. During their short reign at Rawdon Court they had been very +popular, and perhaps their resignation was equally so. After all, they +were foreigners, and Nicholas Rawdon was Yorkshire, root and branch. + +“Nice young people,” said Justice Manningham at a hunt dinner, “but +our ways are not their ways, nor like to be. The young man was born a +fighter, and there are neither bears nor Indians here for him to +fight; and our politics are Greek to him; and the lady, very sweet and +beautiful, but full of new ideas--ideas not suitable for women, and we +do not wish our women changed.” + +“Good enough as they are,” mumbled Squire Oakes. + +“Nicest Americans I ever met,” added Earl Danvers, “but Nicholas Rawdon +will be better at Rawdon Court.” To which statement there was a general +assent, and then the subject was considered settled. + +In the meantime Tyrrel and Ethel had reached London and gone to the +Metropole Hotel; because, as Ethel said, no one knew where Dora was; but +if in England, she was likely to be at the Savoy. They were to be two +days in London. Tyrrel had banking and other business to fully occupy +the time, and Ethel remembered she had some shopping to do, a thing any +woman would discover if she found herself in the neighborhood of Regent +Street and Piccadilly. On the afternoon of the second day this duty was +finished, and she returned to her hotel satisfied but a little weary. As +she was going up the steps she noticed a woman coming slowly down them. +It was Dora Mostyn. They met with great enthusiasm on Dora’s part, and +she turned back and went with Ethel to her room. + +Ethel looked at her with astonishment. She was not like any Dora she had +previously seen. Her beauty had developed wondrously, she had grown much +taller, and her childish manner had been superseded by a carriage and +air of superb grace and dignity. She had now a fine color, and her eyes +were darker, softer, and more dreamy than ever. “Take off your hat, +Dora,” said Ethel, “and tell me what has happened. You are positively +splendid. Where is Mr. Mostyn?” + +“I neither know nor care. He is tramping round the world after me, and +I intend to keep him at it. But I forget. I must tell you how THAT has +come about.” + +“We heard from Mrs. Denning. She said she had received you safely.” + +“My dear mother! She met me like an angel; comforted and cared for +me, never said one word of blame, only kissed and pitied me. We talked +things over, and she advised me to go to New York. So we took three +passages under the names of Mrs. John Gifford, Miss Gifford, and Miss +Diana Gifford. Miss Diana was my maid, but mother thought a party of +three would throw Mostyn off our track.” + +“A very good idea.” + +“We sailed at once. On the second day out I had a son. The poor little +fellow died in a few hours, and was buried at sea. But his birth has +given me the power to repay to Fred Mostyn some of the misery he caused +me.” + +“How so? I do not see.” + +“Oh, you must see, if you will only remember how crazy Englishmen are +about their sons. Daughters don’t count, you know, but a son carries +the property in the family name. He is its representative for the next +generation. As I lay suffering and weeping, a fine scheme of revenge +came clearly to me. Listen! Soon after we got home mother cabled +Mostyn’s lawyer that ‘Mrs. Mostyn had had a son.’ Nothing was said of +the boy’s death. Almost immediately I was notified that Mr. Mostyn would +insist on the surrender of the child to his care. I took no notice of +the letters. Then he sent his lawyer to claim the child and a woman to +take care of it. I laughed them to scorn, and defied them to find +the child. After them came Mostyn himself. He interviewed doctors, +overlooked baptismal registers, advertised far and wide, bribed our +servants, bearded father in his office, abused Bryce on the avenue, +waylaid me in all my usual resorts, and bombarded me with letters, but +he knows no more yet than the cable told him. And the man is becoming a +monomaniac about HIS SON.” + +“Are you doing right, Dora?” + +“If you only knew how he had tortured me! Father and mother think he +deserves all I can do to him. Anyway, he will have it to bear. If he +goes to the asylum he threatened me with, I shall be barely satisfied. +The ‘cat-faced woman’ is getting her innings now.” + +“Have you never spoken to him or written to him? Surely” + +“He caught me one day as I came out of our house, and said, ‘Madam, +where is my son?’ And I answered, ‘You have no son. The child WAS MINE. +You shall never see his face in this world. I have taken good care of +that.’ + +“‘I will find him some day,’ he said, and I laughed at him, and +answered, ‘He is too cunningly hid. Do you think I would let the boy +know he had such a father as you? No, indeed. Not unless there was +property for the disgrace.’ I touched him on the raw in that remark, +and then I got into my carriage and told the coachman to drive quickly. +Mostyn attempted to follow me, but the whip lashing the horses was in +the way.” And Dora laughed, and the laugh was cruel and mocking and full +of meaning. + +“Dora, how can you? How can you find pleasure in such revenges?” + +“I am having the greatest satisfaction of my life. And I am only +beginning the just retribution, for my beauty is enthralling the man +again, and he is on the road to a mad jealousy of me.” + +“Why don’t you get a divorce? This is a case for that remedy. He might +then marry again, and you also.” + +“Even so, I should still torment him. If he had sons he would be +miserable in the thought that his unknown son might, on his death, take +from them the precious Mostyn estate, and that wretched, old, haunted +house of his. I am binding him to misery on every hand.” + +“Is Mrs. Denning here with you?” + +“Both my father and mother are with me. Father is going to take a year’s +rest, and we shall visit Berlin, Vienna, Rome, Paris or wherever our +fancy leads us.” + +“And Mr. Mostyn?” + +“He can follow me round, and see nobles and princes and kings pay court +to the beauty of the ‘cat-faced woman.’ I shall never notice him, never +speak to him; but you need not look so suspicious, Ethel. Neither +by word nor deed will I break a single convention of the strictest +respectability.” + +“Mr. Mostyn ought to give you your freedom.” + +“I have given freedom to myself. I have already divorced him. When they +brought my dead baby for me to kiss, I slipped into its little hand +the ring that made me his mother. They went to the bottom of the sea +together. As for ever marrying again, not in this life. I have had +enough of it. My first husband was the sweetest saint out of heaven, +and my second was some mean little demon that had sneaked his way out of +hell; and I found both insupportable.” She lifted her hat as she spoke, +and began to pin it on her beautifully dressed hair. “Have no fear for +me,” she continued. “I am sure Basil watches over me. Some day I shall +be good, and he will be happy.” Then, hand in hand, they walked to the +door together, and there were tears in both voices as they softly said +“Good-by.” + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +A WEEK after this interview Tyrrel and Ethel were in New York. They +landed early in the morning, but the Judge and Ruth were on the pier to +meet them; and they breakfasted together at the fashionable hotel, +where an elegant suite had been reserved for the residence of the +Tyrrel-Rawdons until they had perfected their plans for the future. +Tyrrel was boyishly excited, but Ethel’s interest could not leave +her father and his new wife. These two had lived in the same home for +fifteen years, and then they had married each other, and both of them +looked fifteen years younger. The Judge was actually merry, and Ruth, in +spite of her supposed “docility,” had quite reversed the situation. It +was the Judge who was now docile, and even admiringly obedient to all +Ruth’s wifely advices and admonitions. + +The breakfast was a talkative, tardy one, but at length the Judge went +to his office and Tyrrel had to go to the Custom House. Ethel was eager +to see her grandmother, and she was sure the dear old lady was anxiously +waiting her arrival. And Ruth was just as anxious for Ethel to visit her +renovated home. She had the young wife’s delight in its beauty, and she +wanted Ethel to admire it with her. + +“We will dine with you to-morrow, Ruth,” said Ethel, “and I will come +very early and see all the improvements. I feel sure the house is +lovely, and I am glad father made you such a pretty nest. Nothing is too +pretty for you, Ruth.” And there was no insincerity in this compliment. +These two women knew and loved and trusted each other without a shadow +of doubt or variableness. + +So Ruth went to her home, and Ethel hastened to Gramercy Park. Madam was +eagerly watching for her arrival. + +“I have been impatient for a whole hour, all in a quiver, dearie,” she +cried. “It is nearly noon.” + +“I have been impatient also, Granny, but father and Ruth met us at the +pier and stayed to breakfast with us, and you know how men talk and +talk.” + +“Ruth and father down at the pier! How you dream!” + +“They were really there. And they do seem so happy, grandmother. They +are so much in love with each other.” + +“I dare say. There are no fools like old fools. So you have sold the +Court to Nicholas Rawdon, and a cotton-spinner is Lord of the Manor. +Well, well, how are the mighty fallen!” + +“I made twenty thousand pounds by the sale. Nicholas Rawdon is +a gentleman, and John Thomas is the most popular man in all the +neighborhood. And, Granny, he has two sons--twins--the handsomest little +chaps you ever saw. No fear of a Rawdon to heir the Manor now.” + +“Fortune is a baggage. When she is ill to a man she knows no reason. She +sent John Thomas to Parliament, and kept Fred out at a loss, too. She +took the Court from Fred and gave it to John Thomas, and she gives +him two sons about the same time she gives Fred one, and that one she +kidnaps out of his sight and knowledge. Poor Fred!” + +“Well, grandmother, it is ‘poor Fred’s’ own doing, and, I assure you, +Fred would have been most unwelcome at the Court. And the squires and +gentry round did not like a woman in the place; they were at a loss what +to do with me. I was no good for dinners and politics and hunting. +I embarrassed them.” “Of course you would. They would have to talk +decently and behave politely, and they would not be able to tell their +choicest stories. Your presence would be a bore; but could not Tyrrel +take your place?” + +“Granny, Tyrrel was really unhappy in that kind of life. And he was a +foreigner, so was I. You know what Yorkshire people think of foreigners. +They were very courteous, but they were glad to have the Yorkshire +Rawdons in our place. And Tyrrel did not like working with the earth; he +loves machinery and electricity.” + +“To be sure. When a man has got used to delving for gold or silver, +cutting grass and wheat does seem a slow kind of business.” + +“And he disliked the shut-up feeling the park gave him. He said we were +in the midst of solitude three miles thick. It made him depressed and +lonely.” + +“That is nonsense. I am sure on the Western plains he had solitude sixty +miles thick--often.” + +“Very likely, but then he had an horizon, even if it were sixty miles +away. And no matter how far he rode, there was always that line where +earth seemed to rise to heaven. But the park was surrounded by a brick +wall fourteen feet high. It had no horizon. You felt as if you were in +a large, green box--at least Tyrrel did. The wall was covered with roses +and ivy, but still it was a boundary you could not pass, and could not +see over. Don’t you understand, Granny, how Tyrrel would feel this?” + +“I can’t say I do. Why didn’t he come with you?” + +“He had to go to the Customs about our trunks, and there were other +things. He will see you to-morrow. Then we are going to dine with +father, and if you will join us, we will call at six for you. Do, +Granny.” + +“Very well, I shall be ready.” But after a moment’s thought she +continued, “No, I will not go. I am only a mortal woman, and the company +of angels bores me yet.” + +“Now, Granny, dear.” + +“I mean what I say. Your father has married such a piece of perfection +that I feel my shortcomings in her presence more than I can bear. But +I’ll tell you what, dearie, Tyrrel may come for me Saturday night at +six, and I will have my dinner with you. I want to see the dining-room +of a swell hotel in full dress; and I will wear my violet satin and +white Spanish lace, and look as smart as can be, dear. And Tyrrel may +buy me a bunch of white violets. I am none too old to wear them. Who +knows but I may go to the theater also?” + +“Oh, Granny, you are just the dearest young lady I know! Tyrrel will be +as proud as a peacock.” + +“Well, I am not as young as I might be, but I am a deal younger than I +look. Listen, dearie, I have never FELT old yet! Isn’t that a thing to +be grateful for? I don’t read much poetry, except it be in the Church +Hymnal, but I cut a verse out of a magazine a year ago which just suits +my idea of life, and, what is still more wonderful, I took the trouble +to learn it. Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote it, and I’ll warrant him for +a good, cheerful, trust-in-God man, or he’d never have thought of such +sensible words.” + +“I am listening, Granny, for the verse.” + +“Yes, and learn it yourself. It will come in handy some day, when Tyrrel +and you are getting white-haired and handsome, as everyone ought to get +when they have passed their half-century and are facing the light of the +heavenly world: + + “At sixty-two life has begun; + At seventy-three begins once more; + Fly swifter as thou near’st the sun, + And brighter shine at eighty-four. + At ninety-five, + Should thou arrive, + Still wait on God, and work and thrive.” + +Such words as those, Ethel, keep a woman young, and make her right glad +that she was born and thankful that she lives.” + +“Thank you for them, dear Granny. Now I must run away as fast as I can. +Tyrrel will be wondering what has happened to me.” + +In this conjecture she was right. Tyrrel was in evening dress, and +walking restlessly about their private parlor. “Ethel,” he said, +plaintively, “I have been so uneasy about you.” + +“I am all right, dearest. I was with grandmother. I shall be ready in +half an hour.” + +Even if she had been longer, she would have earned the delay, for she +returned to him in pink silk and old Venice point de rose, with a pretty +ermine tippet across her shoulders. It was a joy to see her, a delight +to hear her speak, and she walked as if she heard music. The dining-room +was crowded when they entered, but they made a sensation. Many rose +and came to welcome them home. Others smiled across the busy space and +lifted their wineglass in recognition. The room was electric, sensitive +and excited. It was flooded with a soft light; it was full of the +perfume of flowers. The brilliant coloring of silks and satins, and the +soft miracle of white lace blended with the artistically painted walls +and roof. The aroma of delicate food, the tinkle of crystal, the low +murmur of happy voices, the thrill of sudden laughter, and the delicious +accompaniment of soft, sensuous music completed the charm of the room. +To eat in such surroundings was as far beyond the famous flower-crowned +feasts of Rome and Greece as the east is from the west. It was +impossible to resist its influence. From the point of the senses, the +soul was drinking life out of a cup of overflowing delight. And it was +only natural that in their hearts both Tyrrel and Ethel should make a +swift, though silent, comparison between this feast of sensation and +flow of human attraction and the still, sweet order of the Rawdon +dining-room, with its noiseless service, and its latticed win-dows open +to all the wandering scents and songs of the garden. + +Perhaps the latter would have the sweetest and dearest and most abiding +place in their hearts; but just in the present they were enthralled and +excited by the beauty and good comradeship of the social New York dinner +function. Their eyes were shining, their hearts thrilling, they went to +their own apartments hand in hand, buoyant, vivacious, feeling that life +was good and love unchangeable. And the windows being open, they walked +to one and stood looking out upon the avenue. All signs of commerce +had gone from the beautiful street, but it was busy and noisy with the +traffic of pleasure, and the hum of multitudes, the rattle of carriages, +the rush of autos, the light, hurrying footsteps of pleasure-seekers +insistently demanded their sympathy. + +“We cannot go out to-night,” said Ethel. “We are both more weary than we +know.” + +“No, we cannot go to-night; but, oh, Ethel, we are in New York again! +Is not that joy enough? I am so happy! I am so happy. We are in New York +again! There is no city like it in all the world. Men live here, they +work here, they enjoy here. How happy, how busy we are going to be, +Ethel!” + +During these joyful, hopeful expectations he was walking up and down the +room, his eyes dilating with rapture, and Ethel closed the window and +joined him. They magnified their joy, they wondered at it, they were +sure no one before them had ever loved as they loved. “And we are going +to live here, Ethel; going to have our home here! Upon my honor, I +cannot speak the joy I feel, but”--and he went impetuously to the piano +and opened it--“but I can perhaps sing it-- + + “‘There is not a spot in this wide-peopled earth + So dear to the heart as the Land of our Birth; + ‘Tis the home of our childhood, the beautiful spot + Which Memory retains when all else is forgot. + May the blessing of God ever hallow the sod, + And its valleys and hills by our children be trod! + + “‘May Columbia long lift her white crest o’er the wave, + The birthplace of science and the home of the brave. + In her cities may peace and prosperity dwell, + And her daughters in virtue and beauty excel. + May the blessing of God ever hallow the sod, + And its valleys and hills by our children be trod.’” + + +With the patriotic music warbling in his throat he turned to Ethel, +and looked at her as a lover can, and she answered the look; and thus +leaning toward each other in visible beauty and affection their new life +began. Between smiles and kisses they sat speaking, not of the past with +all its love and loveliness, but of the high things calling to them +from the future, the work and duties of life set to great ends both +for public and private good. And as they thus communed Tyrrel took his +wife’s hand and slowly turned on her finger the plain gold wedding ring +behind its barrier of guarding gems. + +“Ethel,” he said tenderly, “what enchantments are in this ring of gold! +What romances I used to weave around it, and, dearest, it has turned +every Romance into Reality.” + +“And, Tyrrel, it will also turn all our Realities into Romances. Nothing +in our life will ever become common. Love will glorify everything.” + +“And we shall always love as we love now?” + +“We shall love far better, far stronger, far more tenderly.” + +“Even to the end of our lives, Ethel?” + +“Yes, to the very end.” + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +A PAUSE of blissful silence followed this assurance. It was broken by +a little exclamation from Ethel. “Oh, dear,” she said, “how selfishly +thoughtless my happiness makes me! I have forgotten to tell you, +until this moment, that I have a letter from Dora. It was sent to +grandmother’s care, and I got it this afternoon; also one from Lucy +Rawdon. The two together bring Dora’s affairs, I should say, to a +pleasanter termination than we could have hoped for.” + +“Where is the Enchantress?” + +“In Paris at present.” + +“I expected that answer.” + +“But listen, she is living the quietest of lives; the most devoted +daughter cannot excel her.” + +“Is she her own authority for that astonishing statement? Do you believe +it?” + +“Yes, under the circumstances. Mr. Denning went to Paris for a critical +and painful operation, and Dora is giving all her love and time +toward making his convalescence as pleasant as it can be. In fact, her +description of their life in the pretty chateau they have rented outside +of Paris is quite idyllic. When her father is able to travel they are +going to Algiers for the winter, and will return to New York about next +May. Dora says she never intends to leave America again.” + +“Where is her husband? Keeping watch on the French chateau?” + +“That is over. Mr. Denning persuaded Dora to write a statement of all +the facts concerning the birth of the child. She told her husband the +name under which they traveled, the names of the ship, the captain, and +the ship’s doctor, and Mrs. Denning authenticated the statement; but, +oh, what a mean, suspicious creature Mostyn is!” + +“What makes you reiterate that description of him?” + +“He was quite unable to see any good or kind intent in this paper. He +proved its correctness, and then wrote Mr. Denning a very contemptible +letter.” + +“Which was characteristic enough. What did he say?” + +“That the amende honorable was too late; that he supposed Dora wished to +have the divorce proceedings stopped and be reinstated as his wife, +but he desired the whole Denning family to understand that was now +impossible; he was ‘fervently, feverishly awaiting his freedom, which +he expected at any hour.’ He said it was ‘sickening to remember the +weariness of body and soul Dora had given him about a non-existing +child, and though this could never be atoned for, he did think he ought +to be refunded the money Dora’s contemptible revenge had cost him.”’ + +“How could he? How could he?” + +“Of course Mr. Denning sent him a check, a pretty large one, I dare say. +And I suppose he has his freedom by this time, unless he has married +again.” + +“He will never marry again.” + +“Indeed, that is the strange part of the story. It was because he +wanted to marry again that he was ‘fervently, feverishly awaiting his +freedom.’” + +“I can hardly believe it, Ethel. What does Dora say?” + +“I have the news from Lucy. She says when Mostyn was ignored by everyone +in the neighborhood, one woman stood up for him almost passionately. Do +you remember Miss Sadler?” + +“That remarkable governess of the Surreys? Why, Ethel, she is the very +ugliest woman I ever saw.” + +“She is so ugly that she is fascinating. If you see her one minute you +can never forget her, and she is brains to her finger tips. She ruled +everyone at Surrey House. She was Lord Surrey’s secretary and Lady +Surrey’s adviser. She educated the children, and they adored her; she +ruled the servants, and they obeyed her with fear and trembling. Nothing +was done in Surrey House without her approval. And if her face was not +handsome, she had a noble presence and a manner that was irresistible.” + +“And she took Mostyn’s part?” + +“With enthusiasm. She abused Dora individually, and American women +generally. She pitied Mr. Mostyn, and made others do so; and when she +perceived there would be but a shabby and tardy restoration for him +socially, she advised him to shake off the dust of his feet from +Monk-Rawdon, and begin life in some more civilized place. And in order +that he might do so, she induced Lord Surrey to get him a very excellent +civil appointment in Calcutta.” + +“Then he is going to India?” + +“He is probably now on the way there. He sold the Mostyn estate----” + +“I can hardly believe it.” + +“He sold it to John Thomas Rawdon. John Thomas told me it belonged to +Rawdon until the middle of the seventeenth century, and he meant to have +it back. He has got it.” + +“Miss Sadler must be a witch.” + +“She is a sensible, practical woman, who knows how to manage men. +She has soothed Mostyn’s wounded pride with appreciative flattery and +stimulated his ambition. She has promised him great things in India, and +she will see that he gets them.” + +“He must be completely under her control.” + +“She will never let him call his soul his own, but she will manage +his affairs to perfection. And Dora is forever rid of that wretched +influence. The man can never again come between her and her love; never +again come between her and happiness. There will be the circumference of +the world as a barrier.” + +“There will be Jane Sadler as a barrier. She will be sufficient. The +Woman Between will annihilate The Man Between. Dora is now safe. What +will she do with herself?” + +“She will come back to New York and be a social power. She is young, +beautiful, rich, and her father has tremendous financial influence. +Social affairs are ruled by finance. I should not wonder to see her in +St. Jude’s, a devotee and eminent for good works.” + +“And if Basil Stanhope should return?” + +“Poor Basil--he is dead.” + +“How do you know that?” + +“What DO you mean, Tyrrel?” + +“Are you sure Basil is dead? What proof have you?” + +“You must be dreaming! Of course he is dead! His friend came and told me +so--told me everything.” + +“Is that all?” + +“There were notices in the papers.” + +“Is that all?” + +“Mr. Denning must have known it when he stopped divorce proceedings.” + +“Doubtless he believed it; he wished to do so.” + +“Tyrrel, tell me what you mean.” + +“I always wondered about his death rather than believed in it. Basil had +a consuming sense of honor and affection for the Church and its sacred +offices. He would have died willingly rather than drag them into +the mire of a divorce court. When the fear became certainty he +disappeared--really died to all his previous life.” + +“But I cannot conceive of Basil lying for any purpose.” + +“He disappeared. His family and friends took on themselves the means +they thought most likely to make that disappearance a finality.” + +“Have you heard anything, seen anything?” + +“One night just before I left the West a traveler asked me for a night’s +lodging. He had been prospecting in British America in the region of +the Klondike, and was full of incidental conversation. Among many other +things he told me of a wonderful sermon he had heard from a young man in +a large mining camp. I did not give the story any attention at the time, +but after he had gone away it came to me like a flash of light that the +preacher was Basil Stanhope.” + +“Oh, Tyrrel, if it was--if it was! What a beautiful dream! But it is +only a dream. If it could be true, would he forgive Dora? Would he come +back to her?” + +“No!” Tyrrel’s voice was positive and even stern. “No, he could never +come back to her. She might go to him. She left him without any reason. +I do not think he would care to see her again.” + +“I would say no more, Tyrrel. I do not think as you do. It is a dream, +a fancy, just an imagination. But if it were true, Basil would wish no +pilgrimage of abasement. He would say to her, ‘Dear one, HUSH! Love is +here, travel-stained, sore and weary, but so happy to welcome you!’ And +he would open all his great, sweet heart to her. May I tell Dora some +day what you have thought and said? It will be something good for her to +dream about.” + +“Do you think she cares? Did she ever love him?” + +“He was her first love. She loved him once with all her heart. If it +would be right--safe, I mean, to tell Dora----” + +“On this subject there is so much NOT to say. I would never speak of +it.” + +“It may be a truth” + +“Then it is among those truths that should be held back, and it is +likely only a trick of my imagination, a supposition, a fancy.” + +“A miracle! And of two miracles I prefer the least, and that is that +Basil is dead. Your young preacher is a dream; and, oh, Tyrrel, I am +so tired! It has been such a long, long, happy day! I want to sleep. My +eyes are shutting as I talk to you. Such a long, long, happy day!” + +“And so many long, happy days to come, dearest.” + +“So many,” she answered, as she took Tyrrel’s hand, and lifted her fur +and fan and gloves. “What were those lines we read together the night +before we were married? I forget, I am so tired. I know that life should +have many a hope and aim, duties enough, and little cares, and now be +quiet, and now astir, till God’s hand beckoned us unawares----” + +The rest was inaudible. But between that long, happy day and the present +time there has been an arc of life large enough to place the union of +Tyrrel and Ethel Rawdon among those blessed bridals that are + +“The best of life’s romances.” + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Man Between, by Amelia E. Barr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN BETWEEN *** + +***** This file should be named 787-0.txt or 787-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/8/787/ + +Produced by Charles Keller + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/787-0.zip b/787-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5200046 --- /dev/null +++ b/787-0.zip diff --git a/787-h.zip b/787-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..eea3f6d --- /dev/null +++ b/787-h.zip diff --git a/787-h/787-h.htm b/787-h/787-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d1bb451 --- /dev/null +++ b/787-h/787-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8918 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Man Between, by Amelia E. Barr + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Man Between, by Amelia E. Barr + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Man Between + +Author: Amelia E. Barr + +Release Date: July 31, 2008 [EBook #787] +Last Updated: October 31, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN BETWEEN *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Keller, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE MAN BETWEEN + </h1> + <h2> + An International Romance + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Amelia E. Barr + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART"> <b>PART FIRST — O LOVE WILL VENTURE IN!</b> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE MAN BETWEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART2"> <b>PART SECOND — PLAYING WITH FIRE</b> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART3"> <b>PART THIRD — “I WENT DOWN INTO THE + GARDEN TO SEE IF THE POMEGRANATES BUDDED."</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART4"> <b>PART FOURTH — THE REAPING OF THE SOWING</b> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PART" id="link2H_PART"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + PART FIRST — O LOVE WILL VENTURE IN! + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE MAN BETWEEN + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + THE thing that I know least about is my beginning. For it is possible to + introduce Ethel Rawdon in so many picturesque ways that the choice is + embarrassing, and forces me to the conclusion that the actual + circumstances, though commonplace, may be the most suitable. Certainly the + events that shape our lives are seldom ushered in with pomp or ceremony; + they steal upon us unannounced, and begin their work without giving any + premonition of their importance. + </p> + <p> + Consequently Ethel had no idea when she returned home one night from a + rather stupid entertainment that she was about to open a new and important + chapter of her life. Hitherto that life had been one of the sweetest and + simplest character—the lessons and sports of childhood and girlhood + had claimed her nineteen years; and Ethel was just at that wonderful age + when, the brook and the river having met, she was feeling the first swell + of those irresistible tides which would carry her day by day to the haven + of all days. + </p> + <p> + It was Saturday night in the January of 1900, verging toward twelve + o’clock. When she entered her room, she saw that one of the windows was + open, and she stood a moment or two at it, looking across the straight + miles of white lights, in whose illumined shadows thousands of sleepers + were holding their lives in pause. + </p> + <p> + “It is not New York at all,” she whispered, “it is some magical city that + I have seen, but have never trod. It will vanish about six o’clock in the + morning, and there will be only common streets, full of common people. Of + course,” and here she closed the window and leisurely removed her opera + cloak, “of course, this is only dreaming, but to dream waking, or to dream + sleeping, is very pleasant. In dreams we can have men as we like them, and + women as we want them, and make all the world happy and beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + She was in no hurry of feeling or movement. She had been in a crowd for + some hours, and was glad to be quite alone and talk to herself a little. + It was also so restful to gradually relinquish all the restraining gauds + of fashionable attire, and as she leisurely performed these duties, she + entered into conversation with her own heart—talked over with it the + events of the past week, and decided that its fretless days, full of good + things, had been, from the beginning to the end, sweet as a cup of new + milk. For a woman’s heart is very talkative, and requires little to make + it eloquent in its own way. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of this intimate companionship she turned her head, and saw + two letters lying upon a table. She rose and lifted them. One was an + invitation to a studio reception, and she let it flutter indeterminately + from her hand; the other was both familiar and appealing; none of her + correspondents but Dora Denning used that peculiar shade of blue paper, + and she instantly began to wonder why Dora had written to her. + </p> + <p> + “I saw her yesterday afternoon,” she reflected, “and she told me + everything she had to tell—and what does she-mean by such a + tantalizing message as this? ‘Dearest Ethel: I have the most extraordinary + news. Come to me immediately. Dora.’ How exactly like Dora!” she + commented. “Come to me im-mediately—whether you are in bed or asleep—whether + you are sick or well—whether it is midnight or high noon—come + to me immediately. Well, Dora, I am going to sleep now, and to-morrow is + Sunday, and I never know what view father is going to take of Sunday. He + may ask me to go to church with him, and he may not. He may want me to + drive in the afternoon, and again he may not; but Sunday is father’s home + day, and Ruth and I make a point of obliging him in regard to it. That is + one of our family principles; and a girl ought to have a few principles of + conduct involving self-denial. Aunt Ruth says, ‘Life cannot stand erect + without self-denial,’ and aunt is usually right—but I do wonder what + Dora wants! I cannot imagine what extraordinary news has come. I must try + and see her to-morrow—it may be difficult—but I must make the + effort”—and with this satisfying resolution she easily fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + When she awoke the church bells were ringing and she knew that her father + and aunt would have breakfasted. The feet did not trouble her. It was an + accidental sleep-over; she had not planned it, and circumstances would + take care of themselves. In any case, she had no fear of rebuke. No one + was ever cross with Ethel. It was a matter of pretty general belief that + whatever Ethel did was just right. So she dressed herself becomingly in a + cloth suit, and, with her plumed hat on her head, went down to see what + the day had to offer her. + </p> + <p> + “The first thing is coffee, and then, all being agreeable, Dora. I shall + not look further ahead,” she thought. + </p> + <p> + As she entered the room she called “Good morning!” and her voice was like + the voice of the birds when they call “Spring!”; and her face was radiant + with smiles, and the touch of her lips and the clasp of her hand warm with + love and life; and her father and aunt forgot that she was late, and that + her breakfast was yet to order. + </p> + <p> + She took up the reproach herself. “I am so sorry, Aunt Ruth. I only want a + cup of coffee and a roll.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, you cannot go without a proper breakfast. Never mind the hour. + What would you like best?” + </p> + <p> + “You are so good, Ruth. I should like a nice breakfast—a breast of + chicken and mushrooms, and some hot muffins and marmalade would do. How + comfortable you look here! Father, you are buried in newspapers. Is anyone + going to church?” + </p> + <p> + Ruth ordered the desired breakfast and Mr. Rawdon took out his watch—“I + am afraid you have delayed us too long this morning, Ethel.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I to be the scapegoat? Now, I do not believe anyone wanted to go to + church. Ruth had her book, you, the newspapers. It is warm and pleasant + here, it is cold and windy outside. I know what confession would be made, + if honesty were the fashion.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my little girl, honesty is the fashion in this house. I believe in + going to church. Religion is the Mother of Duty, and we should all make a + sad mess of life without duty. Is not that so, Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + “Truth itself, Edward; but religion is not going to church and listening + to sermons. Those who built the old cathedrals of Europe had no idea that + sitting in comfortable pews and listening to some man talking was + worshiping God. Those great naves were intended for men and women to stand + or kneel in before God. And there were no high or low standing or kneeling + places; all were on a level before Him. It is our modern Protestantism + which has brought in lazy lolling in cushioned pews; and the gallery, + which makes a church as like a playhouse as possible!” + </p> + <p> + “What are you aiming at, Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + “I only meant to say, I would like going to church much better if we went + solely to praise God, and entreat His mercy. I do not care to hear + sermons.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Ruth, sermons are a large fact in our social economy. When a + million or two are preached every year, they have a strong claim on our + attention. To use a trade phrase, sermons are firm, and I believe a + moderate tax on them would yield an astonishing income.” + </p> + <p> + “See how you talk of them, Edward; as if they were a commercial commodity. + If you respected them——” + </p> + <p> + “I do. I grant them a steady pneumatic pressure in the region of morals, + and even faith. Picture to yourself, Ruth, New York without sermons. The + dear old city would be like a ship without ballast, heeling over with + every wind, and letting in the waters of immorality and scepticism. Remove + this pulpit balance just for one week from New York City, and where should + we be?” + </p> + <p> + “Well then,” said Ethel, “the clergy ought to give New York a first-rate + article in sermons, either of home or foreign manufacture. New York + expects the very best of everything; and when she gets it, she opens her + heart and her pocketbook enjoys it, and pays for it.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the truth, Ethel. I was thinking of your grandmother Rawdon. You + have your hat on—are you going to see her?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to see Dora Denning. I had an urgent note from her last night. + She says she has ‘extraordinary news’ and begs me to ‘come to her + immediately.’ I cannot imagine what her news is. I saw her Friday + afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “She has a new poodle, or a new lover, or a new way of crimping her hair,” + suggested Ruth Bayard scornfully. “She imposes on you, Ethel; why do you + submit to her selfishness?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose because I have become used to it. Four years ago I began to + take her part, when the girls teased and tormented her in the schoolroom, + and I have big-sistered her ever since. I suppose we get to love those who + make us kind and give us trouble. Dora is not perfect, but I like her + better than any friend I have. And she must like me, for she asks my + advice about everything in her life.” + </p> + <p> + “Does she take it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—generally. Sometimes I have to make her take it.” + </p> + <p> + “She has a mother. Why does she not go to her?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Denning knows nothing about certain subjects. I am Dora’s social + godmother, and she must dress and behave as I tell her to do. Poor Mrs. + Denning! I am so sorry for her—another cup of coffee, Ruth—it + is not very strong.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should you be sorry for Mrs. Denning, Her husband is enormously rich—she + lives in a palace, and has a crowd of men and women servants to wait upon + her—carriages, horses, motor cars, what not, at her command.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet really, Ruth, she is a most unhappy woman. In that little Western + town from which they came, she was everybody. She ran the churches, and + was chairwoman in all the clubs, and President of the Temperance Union, + and manager of every religious, social, and political festival; and her + days were full to the brim of just the things she liked to do. Her dress + there was considered magnificent; people begged her for patterns, and + regarded her as the very glass of fashion. Servants thought it a great + privilege to be employed on the Denning place, and she ordered her house + and managed her half-score of men and maids with pleasant autocracy. NOW! + Well, I will tell you how it is, NOW. She sits all day in her splendid + rooms, or rides out in her car or carriage, and no one knows her, and of + course no one speaks to her. Mr. Denning has his Wall Street friends——” + </p> + <p> + “And enemies,” interrupted Judge Rawdon. + </p> + <p> + “And enemies! You are right, father. But he enjoys one as much as the + other—that is, he would as willingly fight his enemies as feast his + friends. He says a big day in Wall Street makes him alive from head to + foot. He really looks happy. Bryce Denning has got into two clubs, and his + money passes him, for he plays, and is willing to love prudently. But no + one cares about Mrs. Denning. She is quite old—forty-five, I dare + say; and she is stout, and does not wear the colors and style she ought to + wear—none of her things have the right ‘look,’ and of course I + cannot advise a matron. Then, her fine English servants take her house out + of her hands. She is afraid of them. The butler suavely tries to inform + her; the housekeeper removed the white crotcheted scarfs and things from + the gilded chairs, and I am sure Mrs. Denning had a heartache about their + loss; but she saw that they had also vanished from Dora’s parlor, so she + took the hint, and accepted the lesson. Really, her humility and isolation + are pitiful. I am going to ask grandmother to go and see her. Grandmother + might take her to church, and get Dr. Simpson and Mrs. Simpson to + introduce her. Her money and adaptability would do the rest. There, I have + had a good breakfast, though I was late. It is not always the early bird + that gets chicken and mushrooms. Now I will go and see what Dora wants”—and + lifting her furs with a smile, and a “Good morning!” equally charming, she + disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Did you notice her voice, Ruth?” asked Judge Rawdon. “What a tone there + is in her ‘good morning!’” + </p> + <p> + “There is a tone in every one’s good morning, Edward. I think people’s + salutations set to music would reveal their inmost character. Ethel’s good + morning says in D major ‘How good is the day!’ and her good night drops + into the minor third, and says pensively ‘How sweet is the night!’” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, Ruth, I don’t understand all that; but I do understand the voice. It + goes straight to my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “And to my heart also, Edward. I think too there is a measured music, a + central time and tune, in every life. Quick, melodious natures like + Ethel’s never wander far from their keynote, and are therefore joyously + set; while slow, irresolute people deviate far, and only come back after + painful dissonances and frequent changes.” + </p> + <p> + “You are generally right, Ruth, even where I cannot follow you. I hope + Ethel will be home for dinner. I like my Sunday dinner with both of you, + and I may bring my mother back with me.” + </p> + <p> + Then he said “Good morning” with an intentional cheerfulness, and Ruth was + left alone with her book. She gave a moment’s thought to the value of good + example, and then with a sigh of content let her eyes rest on the words + Ethel’s presence had for awhile silenced: + </p> + <p> + “I am filled with a sense of sweetness and wonder that such, little things + can make a mortal so exceedingly rich. But I confess that the chiefest of + all my delights is still the religious.” (Theodore Parker.) She read the + words again, then closed her eyes and let the honey of some sacred memory + satisfy her soul. And in those few minutes of reverie, Ruth Bayard + revealed the keynote of her being. Wanderings from it, caused by the + exigencies and duties of life, frequently occurred; but she quickly + returned to its central and controlling harmony; and her serenity and + poise were therefore as natural as was her niece’s joyousness and hope. + Nor was her religious character the result of temperament, or of a + secluded life. Ruth Bayard was a woman of thought and culture, and wise in + the ways of the world, but not worldly. Her personality was very + attractive, she had a good form, an agreeable face, speaking gray eyes, + and brown hair, soft and naturally wavy. She was a distant cousin of + Ethel’s mother, but had been brought up with her in the same household, + and always regarded her as a sister, and Ethel never remembered that she + was only her aunt by adoption. Ten years older than her niece, she had + mothered her with a wise and loving patience, and her thoughts never + wandered long or far from the girl. Consequently, she soon found herself + wondering what reason there could be for Dora Denning’s urgency. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime Ethel had reached her friend’s residence a new building of + unusual size and very ornate architecture. Liveried footmen and waiting + women bowed her with mute attention to Miss Denning’s suite, an absolutely + private arrangement of five rooms, marvelously furnished for the young + lady’s comfort and delight. The windows of her parlor overlooked the park, + and she was standing at one of them as Ethel entered the room. In a + passion of welcoming gladness she turned to her, exclaiming: “I have been + watching for you hours and hours, Ethel. I have the most wonderful thing + to tell you. I am so happy! So happy! No one was ever as happy as I am.” + </p> + <p> + Then Ethel took both her hands, and, as they stood together, she looked + intently at her friend. Some new charm transfigured her face; for her + dark, gazelle eyes were not more lambent than her cheeks, though in a + different way; while her black hair in its picturesquely arranged disorder + seemed instinct with life, and hardly to be restrained. She was constantly + pushing it back, caressing or arranging it; and her white, slender + fingers, sparkling with jewels, moved among the crimped and wavy locks, as + if there was an intelligent sympathy between them. + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful you are to-day, Dora! Who has worked wonders on you?” + </p> + <p> + “Basil Stanhope. He loves me! He loves me! He told me so last night—in + the sweetest words that were ever uttered. I shall never forget one of + them—never, as long as I live! Let us sit down. I want to tell you + everything.” + </p> + <p> + “I am astonished, Dora!” + </p> + <p> + “So was mother, and father, and Bryce. No one suspected our affection. + Mother used to grumble about my going ‘at all hours’ to St. Jude’s church; + but that was because St. Jude’s is so very High Church, and mother is a + Methodist Episcopal. It was the morning and evening prayers she objected + to. No one had any suspicion of the clergyman. Oh, Ethel, he is so + handsome! So good! So clever! I think every woman in the church is in love + with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Then if he is a good man, he must be very unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he is quite ignorant of their admiration, and therefore quite + innocent. I am the only woman he loves, and he never even remembers me + when he is in the sacred office. If you could see him come out of the + vestry in his white surplice, with his rapt face and prophetic eyes. So + mystical! So beautiful! You would not wonder that I worship him.” + </p> + <p> + “But I do not understand—how did you meet him socially?” + </p> + <p> + “I met him at Mrs. Taylor’s first. Then he spoke to me one morning as I + came out of church, and the next morning he walked through the park with + me. And after that—all was easy enough.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. What does your father and mother think—or rather, what do + they say?” + </p> + <p> + “Father always says what he thinks, and mother thinks and says what I do. + This condition simplified matters very much. Basil wrote to father, and + yesterday after dinner he had an interview with him. I expected it, and + was quite prepared for any climax that might come. I wore my loveliest + white frock, and had lilies of the valley in my hair and on my breast; and + father called me ‘his little angel’ and piously wondered ‘how I could be + his daughter.’ All dinner time I tried to be angelic, and after dinner I + sang ‘Little Boy Blue’ and some of the songs he loves; and I felt, when + Basil’s card came in, that I had prepared the proper atmosphere for the + interview.” + </p> + <p> + “You are really very clever, Dora.” + </p> + <p> + “I tried to continue singing and playing, but I could not; the notes all + ran together, the words were lost. I went to mother’s side and put my hand + in hers, and she said softly: ‘I can hear your father storming a little, + but he will settle down the quicker for it. I dare say he will bring Mr. + Stanhope in here before long.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he?” + </p> + <p> + “No. That was Bryce’s fault. How Bryce happened to be in the house at that + hour, I cannot imagine; but it seems to be natural for him to drop into + any interview where he can make trouble. However, it turned out all for + the best, for when mother heard Bryce’s voice above all the other sounds, + she said, ‘Come Dora, we shall have to interfere now.’ Then I was + delighted. I was angelically dressed, and I felt equal to the interview.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really mean that you joined the three quarreling men?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. Mother was quite calm—calm enough to freeze a tempest—but + she gave father a look he comprehended. Then she shook hands with Basil, + and would have made some remark to Bryce, but with his usual impertinence + he took the initiative, and told he: very authoritatively to ‘retire and + take me with her’—calling me that ‘demure little flirt’ in a tone + that was very offensive. You should have seen father blaze into anger at + his words. He told Bryce to remember that ‘Mr. Ben Denning owned the + house, and that Bryce had four or five rooms in it by his courtesy.’ He + said also that the ‘ladies present were Mr. Ben Denning’s wife and + daughter, and that it was impertinent in him to order them out of his + parlor, where they were always welcome.’ Bryce was white with passion, but + he answered in his affected way—‘Sir, that sly girl with her + pretended piety and her sneak of a lover is my sister, and I shall not + permit her to disgrace my family without making a protest.’” + </p> + <p> + “And then?” + </p> + <p> + “I began to cry, and I put my arms around father’s neck and said he must + defend me; that I was not ‘sly,’ and Basil was not ‘a sneak,’ and father + kissed me, and said he would settle with any man, and every man, who + presumed to call me either sly or a flirt.” + </p> + <p> + “I think Mr. Denning acted beautifully. What did Bryce say?” + </p> + <p> + “He turned to Basil, and said: ‘Mr. Stanhope, if you are not a cad, you + will leave the house. You have no right to intrude yourself into family + affairs and family quarrels.’ Basil had seated mother, and was standing + with one hand on the back of her chair, and he did not answer Bryce—there + was no need, father answered quick enough. He said Mr. Stanhope had asked + to become one of the family, and for his part he would welcome him freely; + and then he asked mother if she was of his mind, and mother smiled and + reached her hand backward to Basil. Then father kissed me again, and + somehow Basil’s arm was round me, and I know I looked lovely—almost + like a bride! Oh, Ethel, it was just heavenly!” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure it was. Did Bryce leave the room then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he went out in a passion, declaring he would never notice me again. + This morning at breakfast I said I was sorry Bryce felt so hurt, but + father was sure Bryce would find plenty of consolation in the fact that + his disapproval of my choice would excuse him from giving me a wedding + present. You know Bryce is a mean little miser!” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, I thought he was very; luxurious and extravagant.” + </p> + <p> + “Where Bryce is concerned, yes; toward everyone else his conduct is too + mean to consider. Why, father makes him an allowance of $20,000 a year and + he empties father’s cigar boxes whenever he can do so without——” + </p> + <p> + “Let us talk about Mr. Stanhope he is far more interesting. When are you + going to marry him?” + </p> + <p> + “In the Spring. Father is going to give me some money and I have the + fortune Grandmother Cahill left me. It has been well invested, and father + told me this morning I was a fairly rich little woman. Basil has some + private fortune, also his stipend—we shall do very well. Basil’s + family is one of the finest among the old Boston aristocrats, and he is + closely connected with the English Stanhopes, who rank with the greatest + of the nobility.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish Americans would learn to rely on their own nobility. I am tired of + their everlasting attempts to graft on some English noble family. No + matter how great or clever a man may be, you are sure to read of his + descent from some Scottish chief or English earl.” + </p> + <p> + “They can’t help their descent, Ethel.” + </p> + <p> + “They need not pin all they have done on to it. Often father frets me in + the same way. If he wins a difficult case, he does it naturally, because + he is a Rawdon. He is handsome, gentlemanly, honorable, even a perfect + horseman, all because, being a Rawdon, he was by nature and inheritance + compelled to such perfection. It is very provoking, Dora, and if I were + you I would not allow Basil to begin a song about ‘the English Stanhopes.’ + Aunt Ruth and I get very tired often of the English Rawdons, and are + really thankful for the separating Atlantic.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think I shall feel in that way, Ethel. I like the nobility; so + does father, he says the Dennings are a fine old family.” + </p> + <p> + “Why talk of genealogies when there is such a man as Basil Stanhope to + consider? Let us grant him perfection and agree that he is to marry you in + the Spring; well then, there is the ceremony, and the wedding garments! Of + course it is to be a church wedding?” + </p> + <p> + “We shall be married in Basil’s own church. I can hardly eat or sleep for + thinking of the joy and the triumph of it! There will be women there ready + to eat their hearts with envy—I believe indeed, Ethel, that every + woman in the church is in love with Basil.” + </p> + <p> + “You have said that before, and I am sure you are wrong. A great many of + them are married and are in love with their own husbands; and the kind of + girls who go to St. Jude’s are not the kind who marry clergymen. Mr. + Stanhope’s whole income would hardly buy their gloves and parasols.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think you are pleased that I am going to marry. You must not be + jealous of Basil. I shall love you just the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Under no conditions, Dora, would I allow jealousy to trouble my life. All + the same, you will not love me after your marriage as you have loved me in + the past. I shall not expect it.” + </p> + <p> + Passionate denials of this assertion, reminiscences of the past, + assurances for the future followed, and Ethel accepted them without + dispute and without faith. But she understood that the mere circumstance + of her engagement was all that Dora could manage at present; and that the + details of the marriage merged themselves constantly in the wonderful fact + that Basil Stanhope loved her, and that some time, not far off, she was + going to be his wife. This joyful certainty filled her heart and her + comprehension, and she had a natural reluctance to subject it to the + details of the social and religious ceremonies necessary, Such things + permitted others to participate in her joy, and she resented the idea. For + a time she wished to keep her lover in a world where no other thought + might trouble the thought of Dora. + </p> + <p> + Ethel understood her friend’s mood, and was rather relieved when her + carriage arrived. She felt that her presence was preventing Dora’s + absolute surrender of herself to thoughts of her lover, and all the way + home she marveled at the girl’s infatuation, and wondered if it would be + possible for her to fall into such a dotage of love for any man. She + answered this query positively—“No, if I should lose my heart, I + shall not therefore lose my head”—and then, before she could finish + assuring herself of her determinate wisdom, some mocking lines she had + often quoted to love-sick girls went laughing through her memory— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “O Woman! Woman! O our frail, frail sex! + No wonder tragedies are made from us! + Always the same—nothing but loves and cradles.” + </pre> + <p> + She found Ruth Bayard dressed for dinner, but her father was not present. + That was satisfactory, for he was always a little impatient when the talk + was of lovers and weddings; and just then this topic was uppermost in + Ethel’s mind. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth,” she said, “Dora is engaged,” and then in a few sentences she told + the little romance Dora had lived for the past year, and its happy + culmination. “Setting money aside, I think he will make a very suitable + husband. What do you think, Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + “From what I know of Mr. Stanhope, I should doubt it. I am sure he will + put his duties before every earthly thing, and I am sure Dora will object + to that. Then I wonder if Dora is made on a pattern large enough to be the + moneyed partner in matrimony. I should think Mr. Stanhope was a proud + man.” + </p> + <p> + “Dora says he is connected with the English noble family of Stanhopes.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall certainly have all the connections of the English nobility in + America very soon now—but why does he marry Dora? Is it her money?” + </p> + <p> + “I think not. I have heard from various sources some fine things of Basil + Stanhope. There are many richer girls than Dora in St. Jude’s. I dare say + some one of them would have married him.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken. Do you think Margery Starey, Jane Lewes, or any of the + girls of their order would marry a man with a few thousands a year? And to + marry for love is beyond the frontiers of such women’s intelligence. In + their creed a husband is a banker, not a man to be loved and cared for. + You know how much of a banker Mr. Stanhope could be.” + </p> + <p> + “Bryce Denning is very angry at what he evidently considers his sister’s + mesalliance.” + </p> + <p> + “If Mr. Stanhope is connected with the English Stanhopes, the mesalliance + must be laid to his charge.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed the Dennings have some pretenses to good lineage, and Bryce spoke + of his sister ‘disgracing his family by her contemplated marriage.’” + </p> + <p> + “His family! My dear Ethel, his grandfather was a manufacturer of tin + tacks. And now that we have got as far away as the Denning’s grandfather, + suppose we drop the subject.” + </p> + <p> + “Content; I am a little tired of the clan Denning—that is their + original name Dora says. I will go now and dress for dinner.” + </p> + <p> + Then Ruth rose and looked inquisitively around the room. It was as she + wished it to be—the very expression of elegant comfort—warm + and light, and holding the scent of roses: a place of deep, large chairs + with no odds and ends to worry about, a room to lounge and chat in, and + where the last touch of perfect home freedom was given by a big mastiff + who, having heard the door-bell ring, strolled in to see who had called. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + DURING dinner both Ruth and Ethel were aware of some sub-interest in the + Judge’s manner; his absent-mindedness was unusual, and once Ruth saw a + faint smile that nothing evident could have induced. Unconsciously also he + set a tone of constraint and hurry; the meal was not loitered over, the + conversation flagged, and all rose from the table with a sense of relief; + perhaps, indeed, with a feeling of expectation. + </p> + <p> + They entered the parlor together, and the mastiff rose to meet them, + asking permission to remain with the little coaxing push of his nose which + brought the ready answer: + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Sultan. Make yourself comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + Then they grouped themselves round the fire, and the Judge lit his cigar + and looked at Ethel in a way that instantly brought curiosity to the + question: + </p> + <p> + “You have a secret, father,” she said. “Is it about grandmother?” + </p> + <p> + “It is news rather than a secret, Ethel. And grandmother has a good deal + to do with it, for it is about her family—the Mostyns.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + The tone of Ethel’s “Oh!” was not encouraging, and Ruth’s look of interest + held in abeyance was just as chilling. But something like this attitude + had been expected, and Judge Rawdon was not discouraged by it; he knew + that youth is capable of great and sudden changes, and that its ability to + find reasonable motives for them is unlimited, so he calmly continued: + </p> + <p> + “You are aware that your grandmother’s name before marriage was Rachel + Mostyn?” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen it a thousand times at the bottom of her sampler, father, the + one that is framed and hanging in her morning room—Rachel Mostyn, + November, Anno Domini, 1827.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. She married George Rawdon, and they came to New York in 1834. + They had a pretty house on the Bowling Green and lived very happily there. + I was born in 1850, the youngest of their children. You know that I sign + my name Edward M. Rawdon; it is really Edward Mostyn Rawdon.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and Ruth said, “I suppose Mrs. Rawdon has had some news from + her old home?” + </p> + <p> + “She had a letter last night, and I shall probably receive one to-morrow. + Frederick Mostyn, her grand-nephew, is coming to New York, and Squire + Rawdon, of Rawdon Manor, writes to recommend the young man to our + hospitality.” + </p> + <p> + “But you surely do not intend to invite him here, Edward. I think that + would not do.” + </p> + <p> + “He is going to the Holland House. But he is our kinsman, and therefore we + must be hospitable.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been trying to count the kinship. It is out of my reckoning,” said + Ethel. “I hope at least he is nice and presentable.” + </p> + <p> + “The Mostyns are a handsome family. Look at your grandmother. And Squire + Rawdon speaks very well of Mr. Mostyn. He has taken the right side in + politics, and is likely to make his mark. They were always great + sportsmen, and I dare say this representative of the family is a + good-looking fellow, well-mannered, and perfectly dressed.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel laughed. “If his clothes fit him he will be an English wonder. I + have seen lots of Englishmen; they are all frights as to trousers and + vests. There was Lord Wycomb, his broadcloths and satins and linen were + marvels in quality, but the make! The girls hated to be seen walking with + him, and he would walk—‘good for the constitution,’ was his + explanation for all his peculiarities. The Caylers were weary to death of + them.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” said Ruth, “they sang songs of triumph when Lou Cayler married + him.” + </p> + <p> + “That was a different thing. Lou would make him get ‘fits’ and stop + wearing sloppy, baggy arrangements. And I do not suppose the English lord + has now a single peculiarity left, unless it be his constitutional walk—that, + of course. I have heard English babies get out of their cradles to take a + constitutional.” + </p> + <p> + During this tirade Ruth had been thinking. “Edward,” she asked, “why does + Squire Rawdon introduce Mr. Mostyn? Their relationship cannot be worth + counting.” + </p> + <p> + “There you are wrong, Ruth.” He spoke with a little excitement. + “Englishmen never deny matrimonial relationships, if they are worthy ones. + Mostyn and Rawdon are bound together by many a gold wedding ring; we + reckon such ties relationships. Squire Raw-don lost his son and his two + grandsons a year ago. Perhaps this young man may eventually stand in their + place. The Squire is nearly eighty years old; he is the last of the + English Rawdons—at least of our branch of it.” + </p> + <p> + “You suppose this Mr. Mostyn may become Squire of Rawdon Manor?” + </p> + <p> + “He may, Ruth, but it is not certain. There is a large mortgage on the + Manor.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + Both girls made the ejaculation at the same moment, and in both voices + there was the same curious tone of speculation. It was a cry after truth + apprehended, but not realized. Mr. Rawdon remained silent; he was debating + with himself the advisability of further confidence, but he came quickly + to the conclusion that enough had been told for the present. Turning to + Ethel, he said: “I suppose girls have a code of honor about their secrets. + Is Dora Denning’s ‘extraordinary news’ shut up in it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, father. She is going to be married. That is all.” + </p> + <p> + “That is enough. Who is the man?” + </p> + <p> + “Reverend Mr. Stanhope.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “Positively.” + </p> + <p> + “I never heard anything more ridiculous. That saintly young priest! Why, + Dora will be tired to death of him in a month. And he? Poor fellow!” + </p> + <p> + “Why poor fellow? He is very much in love with her.” + </p> + <p> + “It is hard to understand. St. Jerome’s love ‘pale with midnight prayer’ + would be more believable than the butterfly Dora. Goodness, gracious! The + idea of that man being in love! It pulls him down a bit. I thought he + never looked at a woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know him, father?” + </p> + <p> + “As many people know him—by good report. I know that he is a + clergyman who believes what he preaches. I know a Wall Street broker who + left St. Jude’s church because Mr. Stanhope’s sermons on Sunday put such a + fine edge on his conscience that Mondays were dangerous days for him to do + business on. And whatever Wall Street financiers think of the Bible + personally, they do like a man who sticks to his colors, and who holds + intact the truth committed to him. Stanhope does this emphatically; and he + is so well trusted that if he wanted to build a new church he could get + all the money necessary, from Wall Street men in an hour. And he is going + to marry! Going to marry Dora Denning! It is ‘extraordinary news,’ + indeed!” + </p> + <p> + Ethel was a little offended at such unusual surprise. “I think you don’t + quite understand Dora,” she said. “It will be Mr. Stanhope’s fault if she + is not led in the right way; for if he only loves and pets her enough he + may do all he wishes with her. I know, I have both coaxed and ordered her + for four years—sometimes one way is best, and sometimes the other.” + </p> + <p> + “How is a man to tell which way to take? What do her parents think of the + marriage?” + </p> + <p> + “They are pleased with it.” + </p> + <p> + “Pleased with it! Then I have nothing more to say, except that I hope they + will not appeal to me on any question of divorce that may arise from such + an unlikely marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “They are only lovers yet, Edward,” said Ruth. “It is not fair, or kind, + to even think of divorce.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Ruth, the fashionable girl of today accepts marriage with the + provision of divorce.” + </p> + <p> + “Dora is hardly one of that set.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope she may keep out of it, but marriage will give her many + opportunities. Well, I am sorry for the young priest. He isn’t fit to + manage a woman like Dora Denning. I am afraid he will get the worst of + it.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you are very unkind, father. Dora is my friend, and I know her. + She is a girl of intense feelings and very affectionate. And she has + dissolved all her life and mind in Mr. Stanhope’s life and mind, just as a + lump of sugar is dissolved in water.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth laughed. “Can you not find a more poetic simile, Ethel?” + </p> + <p> + “It will do. This is an age of matter; a material symbol is the proper + thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear she has dissolved her mind in Stanhope’s,” said Judge + Rawdon. “Dora’s intellect in itself is childish. What did the man see in + her that he should desire her?” + </p> + <p> + “Father, you never can tell how much brains men like with their beauty. + Very little will do generally. And Dora has beauty—great beauty; no + one can deny that. I think Dora is giving up a great deal. To her, at + least, marriage is a state of passing from perfect freedom into the + comparative condition of a slave, giving up her own way constantly for + some one else’s way.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Ethel, the remedy is in the lady’s hands. She is not forced to + marry, and the slavery that is voluntary is no hardship. Now, my dear, I + have a case to look over, and you must excuse me to-night. To-morrow we + shall know more concerning Mr. Mostyn, and it is easier to talk about + certainties than probabilities.” + </p> + <p> + But if conversation ceased about Mr. Mostyn, thought did not; for, a + couple of hours afterwards, Ethel tapped at her aunt’s door and said, + “Just a moment, Ruth.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Did you notice what father said about the mortgage on Rawdon Manor”’ + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “He seemed to know all about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I think he does know all about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think he holds it?” + </p> + <p> + “He may do so—it is not unlikely.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Then Mr. Fred Mostyn, if he is to inherit Rawdon, would like the + mortgage removed?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he would.” + </p> + <p> + “And the way to remove it would be to marry the daughter of the holder of + the mortgage?” + </p> + <p> + “It would be one way.” + </p> + <p> + “So he is coming to look me over. I am a matrimonial possibility. How do + you like that idea, Aunt Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not entertain it for a moment. Mr. Mostyn may not even know of the + mortgage. When men mortgage their estates they do not make confidences + about the matter, or talk it over with their friends. They always conceal + and hide the transaction. If your father holds the mortgage, I feel sure + that no one but himself and Squire Rawdon know anything about it. Don’t + look at the wrong side of events, Ethel; be content with the right side of + life’s tapestry. Why are you not asleep? What are you worrying about?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, only I have not heard all I wanted to hear.” + </p> + <p> + “And perhaps that is good for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall go and see grandmother first thing in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I would not if I were you. You cannot make any excuse she will not see + through. Your father will call on Mr. Mostyn to-morrow, and we shall get + unprejudiced information.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t know that, Ruth. Father is intensely American three hundred + and sixty-four days and twenty-three hours in a year, and then in the odd + hour he will flare up Yorkshire like a conflagration.” + </p> + <p> + “English, you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Yorkshire IS England to grandmother and father. They don’t think + anything much of the other counties, and people from them are just + respectable foreigners. You may depend upon it, whatever grandmother says + of Mr. Fred Mostyn, father will believe it, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father always believes whatever your grandmother says. Good night, + dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night. I think I shall go to grandmother in the morning. I know how + to manage her. I shall meet her squarely with the truth, and acknowledge + that I am dying with curiosity about Mr. Mostyn.” + </p> + <p> + “And she will tease and lecture you, say you are ‘not sweetheart high yet, + only a little maid,’ and so on. Far better go and talk with Dora. + To-morrow she will need you, I am sure. Ethel, I am very sleepy. Good + night again, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night!” Then with a sudden animation, “I know what to do, I shall + tell grandmother about Dora’s marriage. It is all plain enough now. Good + night, Ruth.” And this good night, though dropping sweetly into the minor + third, had yet on its final inflection something of the pleasant + hopefulness of its major key—it expressed anticipation and + satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + What happened in the night session she could not tell, but she awoke with + a positive disinclination to ask a question about Mr. Mostyn. “I have + received orders from some one,” she said to Ruth; “I simply do not care + whether I ever see or hear of the man again. I am going to Dora, and I may + not come home until late. You know they will depend upon me for every + suggestion.” + </p> + <p> + In fact, Ethel did not return home until the following day, for a + snowstorm came up in the afternoon, and the girl was weary with planning + and writing, and well inclined to eat with Dora the delicate little dinner + served to them in Dora’s private parlor. Then about nine o’clock Mr. + Stanhope called, and Ethel found it pleasant enough to watch the lovers + and listen to Mrs. Denning’s opinions of what had been already planned. + And the next day she seemed to be so absolutely necessary to the movement + of the marriage preparations, that it was nearly dark before she was + permitted to return home. + </p> + <p> + It was but a short walk between the two houses, and Ethel was resolved to + have the refreshment of the exercise. And how good it was to feel the + pinch of the frost and the gust of the north wind, and after it to come to + the happy portal of home, and the familiar atmosphere of the cheerful + hall, and then to peep into the firelit room in which Ruth lay dreaming in + the dusky shadows. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth, darling!” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel! I have just sent for you to come home.” Then she rose and took + Ethel in her arms. “How delightfully cold you are! And what rosy cheeks! + Do you know that we have a little dinner party?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Mostyn?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and your grandmother, and perhaps Dr. Fisher—the Doctor is not + certain.” + </p> + <p> + “And I see that you are already dressed. How handsome you look! That black + lace dress, with the dull gold ornaments, is all right.” + </p> + <p> + “I felt as if jewels would be overdress for a family dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but jewels always snub men so completely. It is not altogether that + they represent money; they give an air of royalty, and a woman without + jewels is like an uncrowned queen—she does not get the homage. I + can’t account for it, but there it is. I shall wear my sapphire necklace. + What did father say about our new kinsman?” + </p> + <p> + “Very little. It was impossible to judge from his words what he thought. I + fancied that he might have been a little disappointed.” + </p> + <p> + “I should not wonder. We shall see.” + </p> + <p> + “You will be dressed in an hour?” + </p> + <p> + “In less time. Shall I wear white or blue?” + </p> + <p> + “Pale blue and white flowers. There are some white violets in the library. + I have a red rose. We shall contrast each other very well.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it all about? Do we really care how we look in the eyes of this + Mr. Mostyn?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course we care. We should not be women if we did not care. We must + make some sort of an impression, and naturally we prefer that it should be + a pleasant one.” + </p> + <p> + “If we consider the mortgage——” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! The mortgage is not in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by. Tell Mattie to bring me a cup of tea upstairs. I will be dressed + in an hour.” + </p> + <p> + The tea was brought and drank, and Ethel fell asleep while her maid + prepared every item for her toilet. Then she spoke to her mistress, and + Ethel awakened, as she always did, with a smile; nature’s surest sign of a + radically sweet temper. And everything went in accord with the smile; her + hair fell naturally into its most becoming waves, her dress into its most + graceful folds; the sapphire necklace matched the blue of her happy eyes, + the roses of youth were on her cheeks, and white violets on her breast. + She felt her own beauty and was glad of it, and with a laughing word of + pleasure went down to the parlor. + </p> + <p> + Madam Rawdon was standing before the fire, but when she heard the door + open she turned her face toward it. + </p> + <p> + “Come here, Ethel Rawdon,” she said, “and let me have a look at you.” And + Ethel went to her side, laid her hand lightly on the old lady’s shoulder + and kissed her cheek. “You do look middling well,” she continued, “and + your dress is about as it should be. I like a girl to dress like a girl—still, + the sapphires. Are they necessary?” + </p> + <p> + “You would not say corals, would you, grandmother? I have those you gave + me when I was three years old.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep your wit, my dear, for this evening. I should not wonder but you + might need it. Fred Mostyn is rather better than I expected. It was a + great pleasure to see him. It was like a bit of my own youth back again. + When you are a very old woman there are few things sweeter, Ethel.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are not an old woman, grandmother.” + </p> + <p> + Nor was she. In spite of her seventy-five years she stood erect at the + side of her grand-daughter. Her abundant hair was partly gray, but the + gray mingled with the little oval of costly lace that lay upon it, and the + effect was soft and fair as powdering. She had been very handsome, and her + beauty lingered as the beauty of some flowers linger, in fainter tints and + in less firm outlines; for she had never fallen from that “grace of God + vouchsafed to children,” and therefore she had kept not only the + enthusiasms of her youth, but that sweet promise of the “times of + restitution” when the child shall die one hundred years old, because the + child-heart shall be kept in all its freshness and trust. Yes, in Rachel + Rawdon’s heart the well-springs of love and life lay too deep for the + frosts of age to touch. She would be eternally young before she grew old. + </p> + <p> + She sat down as Ethel spoke, and drew the girl to her side. “I hear your + friend is going to marry,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Dora? Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sorry?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not. Dora has been a care to me for four years. I hope her + husband may manage her as well as I have done.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you afraid he will not?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell, grandmother. I see all Dora’s faults. Mr. Stanhope is + certain that she has no faults. Hitherto she has had her own way in + everything. Excepting myself, no one has ventured to contradict her. But, + then, Dora is over head and ears in love, and love, it is said, makes all + things easy to bear and to do.” + </p> + <p> + “One thing, girls, amazes me—it is how readily women go to church + and promise to love, honor, and obey their husbands, when they never + intend to do anything of the kind.” + </p> + <p> + “There is a still more amazing thing, Madam,” answered Ruth; “that is that + men should be so foolish as to think, or hope, they perhaps might do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Old-fashioned women used to manage it some way or other, Ruth. But the + old-fashioned woman was a very soft-hearted creature, and, maybe, it was + just as well that she was.” + </p> + <p> + “But Woman’s Dark Ages are nearly over, Madam; and is not the New Woman a + great improvement on the Old Woman?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t made up my mind yet, Ruth, about the New Woman. I notice one + thing that a few of the new kind have got into their pretty heads, and + that is, that they ought to have been men; and they have followed up that + idea so far that there is now very little difference in their looks, and + still less in their walk; they go stamping along with the step of an + athlete and the stride of a peasant on fresh plowed fields. It is the most + hideous of walks imaginable. The Grecian bend, which you cannot remember, + but may have heard of, was a lackadaisical, vulgar walking fad, but it was + grace itself compared with the hideous stride which the New Woman has + acquired on the golf links or somewhere else.” + </p> + <p> + “But men stamp and stride in the same way, grandmother.” + </p> + <p> + “A long stride suits a man’s anatomy well enough; it does not suit a + woman’s—she feels every stride she takes, I’ll warrant her.” + </p> + <p> + “If she plays golf——” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Ethel, there is no need for her to play golf. It is a man’s game + and was played for centuries by men only. In Scotland, the home of golf, + it was not thought nice for women to even go to the links, because of the + awful language they were likely to hear.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, grandmother, is it not well for ladies to play golf if it keeps men + from using ‘awful language’ to each other?” + </p> + <p> + “God love you, child! Men will think what they dare not speak.” + </p> + <p> + “If we could only have some new men!” sighed Ethel. “The lover of to-day + is just what a girl can pick up; he has no wit and no wisdom and no + illusions. He talks of his muscles and smells of cigarettes—perhaps + of whisky”—and at these words, Judge Rawdon, accompanied by Mr. Fred + Mostyn, entered the room. + </p> + <p> + The introductions slipped over easily, they hardly seemed to be necessary, + and the young man took the chair offered as naturally as if he had sat by + the hearth all his life. There was no pause and no embarrassment and no + useless polite platitudes; and Ethel’s first feeling about her kinsman was + one of admiration for the perfect ease and almost instinctive at-homeness + with which he took his place. He had come to his own and his own had + received him; that was the situation, a very pleasant one, which he + accepted with the smiling trust that was at once the most perfect and + polite of acknowledgments. + </p> + <p> + “So you do not enjoy traveling?” said Judge Rawdon as if continuing a + conversation. + </p> + <p> + “I think it the most painful way of taking pleasure, sir—that is the + actual transit. And sleeping cars and electric-lighted steamers and hotels + do not mitigate the suffering. If Dante was writing now he might depict a + constant round of personally conducted tours in Purgatory. I should think + the punishment adequate for any offense. But I like arriving at places. + New York has given me a lot of new sensations to-day, and I have forgotten + the transit troubles already.” + </p> + <p> + He talked well and temperately, and yet Ethel could not avoid the + conclusion that he was a man of positive character and uncompromising + prejudices. And she also felt a little disappointed in his personality, + which contradicted her ideal of a Yorkshire squire. For he was small and + slender in stature, and his face was keen and thin, from the high cheek + bones to the sharp point of the clean-shaven chin. Yet it was an + interesting face, for the brows were broad and the eyes bright and + glancing. That his nature held the opposite of his qualities was evident + from the mouth, which was composed and discreet and generally clothed with + a frank smile, negatived by the deep, sonorous voice which belongs to the + indiscreet and quarrelsome. His dress was perfect. Ethel could find no + fault in it, except the monocle which he did not use once during the + evening, and which she therefore decided was a quite idle and unhandsome + adjunct. + </p> + <p> + One feature of his character was definite—he was a home-loving man. + He liked the society of women with whom he could be familiar, and he + preferred the company of books and music to fashionable social functions. + This pleasant habit of domesticity was illustrated during the evening by + an accidental incident—a noisy, mechanical street organ stopped + before the windows, and in a blatant manner began its performance. + Conversation was paralyzed by the intrusion and when it was removed Judge + Rawdon said: “What a democratic, leveling, aggressive thing music is! It + insists on being heard. It is always in the way, it thrusts itself upon + you, whether you want it or not. Now art is different. You go to see + pictures when you wish to.” + </p> + <p> + Mostyn did not notice the criticism on music itself, but added in a soft, + disapproving way: “That man has no music in him. Do you know that was one + of Mendelssohn’s delicious dreams. This is how it should have been + rendered,” and he went impulsively to the piano and then the sweet + monotonous cadences and melodious reveries slipped from his long white + fingers till the whole room was permeated with a delicious sense of + moonlit solitude and conversation was stilled in its languor. The young + man had played his own dismissal, but it was an effective one, and he + complimented himself on his readiness to seize opportunities for display, + and on his genius in satisfying them. + </p> + <p> + “I think I astonished them a little,” he mused, “and I wonder what that + pretty, cousin of mine thought of the music and the musician. I fancy we + shall be good friends; she is proud—that is no fault; and she has + very decided opinions—which might be a great fault; but I think I + rather astonished them.” + </p> + <p> + To such reflections he stepped rather pompously down the avenue, not at + all influenced by any premonition that his satisfactory feelings might be + imperfectly shared. Yet silence was the first result of his departure. + Judge Rawdon took out his pocketbook and began to study its entries. Ruth + Bayard rose and closed the piano. Ethel lifted a magazine, while it was + Madam who finally asked in an impatient tone: + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of Frederick? I suppose, Edward, you have an opinion. + Isn’t he a very clever man?” + </p> + <p> + “I should not wonder if he were, mother, clever to a fault.” + </p> + <p> + “I never heard a young man talk better.” + </p> + <p> + “He talked a great deal, but then, you know, he was not on his oath.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll warrant every word he said.” + </p> + <p> + “Your warrant is fine surety, mother, but I am not bound to believe all I + hear. You women can please yourselves.” + </p> + <p> + And with these words he left the women to find out, if they could, what + manner of man their newly-found kinsman might be. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + ONE of the most comfortable things about Frederick Mostyn was his almost + boyish delight in the new life which New York opened to him. Every phase + of it was so fresh, so unusual, that his Yorkshire existence at Mostyn + Hall gave him no precedents and no experiences by which to measure events. + The simplest things were surprising or interesting. He was never weary of + taking those exciting “lifts” to the top of twenty-three story buildings + and admiring the wonderful views such altitudes gave him. He did not + perhaps comprehend how much he was influenced by the friction of two + million wills and interests; did not realize how they evoked an electric + condition that got behind the foreground of existence and stirred + something more at the roots of his being than any previous experience had + ever done. And this feeling was especially entrancing when he saw the + great city and majestic river lying at his feet in the white, uncanny + light of electricity, all its color gone, its breath cold, its life + strangely remote and quiet, men moving like shadows, and sounds hollow and + faint and far off, as if they came from a distant world. It gave him a + sense of dreamland quite as much as that of reality. The Yorkshire moors + and words grew dull and dreary in his memory; even the thought of the + hunting field could not lure his desire. New York was full of marvelous + novelties; its daily routine, even in the hotel and on the streets, + gripped his heart and his imagination; and he confessed to himself that + New York was life at first hand; fresh drawn, its very foam sparkling and + intoxicating. He walked from the Park to the Battery and examined all that + caught his eye. He had a history of the city and sought out every + historical site; he even went over to Weehawken, and did his best to + locate the spot where Burr and Hamilton fought. He admired Hamilton, but + after reading all about the two men, gave his sympathy to Burr, “a clever, + unlucky little chap,” he said. “Why do clever men hate each other?” and + then he smiled queerly as he remembered political enemies of great men in + his own day and his own country; and concluded that “it was their nature + to do so.” + </p> + <p> + But in these outside enthusiasms he did not forget his personal relations. + It took him but a few days to domesticate himself in both the Rawdon + houses. When the weather drove him off the streets, he found a pleasant + refuge either with Madam or with Ethel and Miss Bayard. Ethel he saw less + frequently than he liked; she was nearly always with Dora Denning, but + with Ruth Bayard he contracted a very pleasant friendship. He told her all + his adventures and found her more sympathetic than Madam ever pretended to + be. Madam thought him provincial in his tastes, and was better pleased to + hear that he had a visiting entry at two good clubs, and had hired a motor + ear, and was learning how to manage it. Then she told herself that if he + was good to her, she would buy him one to be proud of before he returned + to Yorkshire. + </p> + <p> + It was at the Elite Club Bryce Denning first saw him. He came in with Shaw + McLaren, a young man whose acquaintance was considered as most definitely + satisfactory. Vainly Bryce Denning had striven to obtain any notice + whatever from McLaren, whose exclusiveness was proverbial. Who then was + this stranger he appeared so anxious to entertain? His look of supreme + satisfaction, his high-bred air, and peculiar intonation quickly satisfied + Bryce as to his nationality. + </p> + <p> + “English, of course,” he reflected, “and probably one of the aristocrats + that Shaw meets at his recently ennobled sister’s place. He is forever + bragging about them. I must find out who Shaw’s last British lion is,” and + just as he arrived at this decision the person appeared who could satisfy + him. + </p> + <p> + “That man!” was the reply to the inevitable question—“why, he is + some relative of the old lady Rawdon. He is staying at the Holland House, + but spends his time with the Rawdons, old and young; the young one is a + beauty, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so? She is a good deal at our house. I suppose the fellow + has some pretentions. Judge Rawdon will be a man hard to satisfy with a + son-in-law.” + </p> + <p> + “I fancy his daughter will take that subject in her own hand. She looks + like a girl of spirit; and this man is not as handsome as most + Englishmen.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if you judge him by bulk, but women want more than mere bulk; he has + an air of breeding you can’t mistake, and he looks clever.” + </p> + <p> + “His name is Mostyn. I have heard him spoken of. Would you like to know + him?” + </p> + <p> + “I could live without that honor”—then Bryce turned the conversation + upon a recent horse sale, and a few moments later was sauntering up the + avenue. He was now resolved to make up his quarrel with Dora. Through Dora + he could manage to meet Mostyn socially, and he smiled in anticipation of + that proud moment when he should parade in his own friendly leash + McLaren’s new British lion. Besides, the introduction to Mr. Mostyn might, + if judiciously managed, promote his own acquaintance with Shaw McLaren, a + sequence to be much desired; an end he had persistently looked for. + </p> + <p> + He went straight to his sister’s apartments and touched the bell quite + gently. Her maid opened the door and looked annoyed and uncertain. She + knew all about the cruelly wicked opposition of Miss Denning’s brother to + that nice young man, Basil Stanhope; and also the general attitude of the + Denning household, which was a comprehensive disapproval of all that Mr. + Bryce said and did. + </p> + <p> + Dora had, however, talked all her anger away; she wished now to be friends + with her brother. She knew that his absence from her wedding would cause + unpleasant notice, and she had other reasons, purely selfish, all + emphasizing the advantages of a reconciliation. So she went to meet Bryce + with a pretty, pathetic air of injury patiently endured, and when Bryce + put out his hands and said, “Forgive me, Dodo! I cannot bear your anger + any longer!” she was quite ready for the next act, which was to lay her + pretty head on his shoulder and murmur, “I am not angry, Bryce—I am + grieved, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, Dodo—forgive me! It was all my fault. I think I was jealous + of you; it was hard to find that you loved a stranger better than you + loved me. Kiss me, and be my own sweet, beautiful sister again. I shall + try to like all the people you like—for your sake, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Then Dora was charming. She sat and talked and planned and told him all + that had been done and all that was yet to do. And Bryce never once named + either Ethel or Mr. Mostyn. He knew Dora was a shrewd little woman, and + that he would have to be very careful in introducing the subject of Mr. + Mostyn, or else she would be sure to reach the central truth of his + submission to her. But, somehow, things happen for those who are content + to leave their desires to contingencies and accidentals. The next morning + he breakfasted with the family and felt himself repaid for his concession + to Dora by the evident pleasure their renewed affection gave his father + and mother; and though the elder Denning made no remark in the renewed + family solidarity, Bryce anticipated many little favors and accommodations + from his father’s satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast he sat down, lit his cigar and waited. Both his mother and + Dora had much to tell him, and he listened, and gave them such excellent + advice that they were compelled to regret the arrangements already made + had lacked the benefit of his counsels. + </p> + <p> + “But you had Ethel Rawdon,” he said. “I thought she was everybody rolled + into one.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Ethel doesn’t know as much as she thinks she does,” said Mrs. + Denning. “I don’t agree with lots of things she advises.” + </p> + <p> + “Then take my advice, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Bryce, it is the best of all.” + </p> + <p> + “Bryce does not know about dress and such things, mother. Ethel finds out + what she does not know. Bryce cannot go to modistes and milliners with + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Ethel does not pay as much attention as she might—she is + always going somewhere or other with that Englishman, that she says is a + relative—for my part, I doubt it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother!” + </p> + <p> + “Girls will say anything, Dora, to hide a love affair. Why does she never + bring him here to call?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I asked her not. I do not want to make new friends, especially + English ones, now. I am so busy all day, and of course my evenings belong + to Basil.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and there is no one to talk to me. Ethel and the Englishman would + pass an hour or two very nicely, and your father is very fond of + foreigners. I think you ought to ask Ethel to introduce him to us; then we + could have a little dinner for him and invite him to our opera box—don’t + you agree with me, Bryce?” + </p> + <p> + “If Dora does. Of course, at this time, Dora’s wishes and engagements are + the most important. I have seen the young man at the club with Shaw + McLaren and about town with Judge Rawdon and others. He seems a nice + little fellow. Jack Lacy wanted to introduce me to him yesterday, but I + told him I could live without the honor. Of course, if Dora feels like + having him here that is a very different matter. He is certainly + distinguished looking, and would give an air to the wedding.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he handsome, Bryce?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—and no. Women would rave about him; men would think him finical + and dandified. He looks as if he were the happiest fellow in the world—in + fact, he looked to me so provokingly happy that I disliked him; but now + that Dodo is my little sister again, I can be happy enough to envy no + one.” + </p> + <p> + Then Dora slipped her hand into her brother’s hand, and Bryce knew that he + might take his way to his little office in William Street, the advent of + Mr. Mostyn into his life being now as certain as anything in this + questionable, fluctuating world could be. As he was sauntering down the + avenue he met Ethel and he turned and walked back with her to the Denning + house. He was so good-natured and so good-humored that Ethel could not + avoid an inquisitive look at the usually glum young man, and he caught it + with a laugh and said, “I suppose you wonder what is the matter with me, + Miss Rawdon?” + </p> + <p> + “You look more than usually happy. If I suppose you have found a wife or a + fortune, shall I be wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “You come near the truth; I have found a sister. Do you know I am very + fond of Dora and we have made up our quarrel?” + </p> + <p> + Then Ethel looked at him again. She did not believe him. She was sure that + Dora was not the only evoker of the unbounded satisfaction in Bryce + Denning’s face and manner. But she let the reason pass; she had no likely + arguments to use against it. And that day Mrs. Denning, with a slight air + of injury, opened the subject of Mr. Mostyn’s introduction to them. She + thought Ethel had hardly treated the Dennings fairly. Everyone was + wondering they had not met him. Of course, she knew they were not + aristocrats and she supposed Ethel was ashamed of them, but, for her part, + she thought they were as good as most people, and if it came to money, + they could put down dollar for dollar with any multi-millionaire in + America, or England either, for that matter. + </p> + <p> + When the reproach took this tone there seemed to be only one thing for + Ethel to say or to do; but that one thing was exactly what she did not say + or do. She took up Mrs. Denning’s reproach and complained that “her + relative and friend had been purposely and definitely ignored. Dora had + told her plainly she did not wish to make Mr. Mostyn’s acquaintance; and, + in accord with this feeling, no one in the Denning family had called on + Mr. Mostyn, or shown him the least courtesy. She thought the whole Rawdon + family had the best of reasons for feeling hurt at the neglect.” + </p> + <p> + This view of the case had not entered Mrs. Denning’s mind. She was quickly + sorry and apologetic for Dora’s selfishness and her own thoughtlessness, + and Ethel was not difficult to pacify. There was then no duty so + imperative as the arrangement of a little dinner for Mr. Mostyn. “We will + make it quite a family affair,” said Mrs. Denning, “then we can go to the + opera afterwards. Shall I call on Mr. Mostyn at the Holland House?” she + asked anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “I will ask Bryce to call,” said Dora. “Bryce will do anything to please + me now, mother.” + </p> + <p> + In this way, Bryce Denning’s desires were all arranged for him, and that + evening Dora made her request. Bryce heard it with a pronounced pout of + his lips, but finally told Dora she was “irresistible,” and as his time + for pleasing her was nearly out, he would even call on the Englishman at + her request. + </p> + <p> + “Mind!” he added, “I think he is as proud as Lucifer, and I may get + nothing for my civility but the excuse of a previous engagement.” + </p> + <p> + But Bryce Denning expected much more than this, and he got all that he + expected. The young men had a common ground to meet on, and they quickly + became as intimate as ever Frederick Mostyn permitted himself to be with a + stranger. Bryce could hardly help catching enthusiasm from Mostyn on the + subject of New York, and he was able to show his new acquaintance phases + of life in the marvelous city which were of the greatest interest to the + inquisitive Yorkshire squire—Chinese theaters and opium dives; + German, Italian, Spanish, Jewish, French cities sheltering themselves + within the great arms of the great American city; queer restaurants, where + he could eat of the national dishes of every civilized country under the + sun; places of amusement, legal and illegal, and the vast under side of + the evident life—all the uncared for toiling of the thousands who + work through the midnight hours. In these excursions the young men became + in a way familiar, though neither of them ever told the other the real + feelings of their hearts or the real aim of their lives. + </p> + <p> + The proposed dinner took place ten days after its suggestion. There was + nothing remarkable in the function itself; all millionaires have the same + delicacies and the same wines, and serve these things with precisely the + same ceremonies. And, as a general thing, the company follow rigidly + ordained laws of conversation. Stories about public people, remarks about + the weather and the opera, are in order; but original ideas or decided + opinions are unpardonable social errors. Yet even these commonplace events + may contain some element that shall unexpectedly cut a life in two, and so + change its aims and desires as to virtually create a new character. It was + Frederick Mostyn who in this instance underwent this great personal + change; a change totally unexpected and for which he was absolutely + unprepared. For the people gathered in Mrs. Denning’s drawing-room were + mostly known to him, and the exceptions did not appear to possess any + remarkable traits, except Basil Stanhope, who stood thoughtfully at a + window, his pale, lofty beauty wearing an air of expectation. Mostyn + decided that he was naturally impatient for the presence of his fiancee, + whose delayed entrance he perceived was also annoying Ethel. Then there + was a slight movement, a sudden silence, and Mostyn saw Stanhope’s face + flush and turn magically radiant. Mechanically he followed his movement + and the next moment his eyes met Fate, and Love slipped in between. Dora + was there, a fairy-like vision in pale amber draperies, softened with silk + lace. Diamonds were in her wonderfully waved hair and round her fair white + neck. They clasped her belt and adorned the instep of her little amber + silk slippers. She held a yellow rose in her hand, and yellow rosebuds lay + among the lace at her bosom, and Mostyn, stupefied by her undreamed-of + loveliness, saw golden emanations from the clear pallor of her face. He + felt for a moment or two as if he should certainly faint; only by a + miracle of stubborn will did he drag his consciousness from that + golden-tinted, sparkling haze of beauty which had smitten him like an + enchantment. Then the girl was looking at him with her soft, dark, gazelle + eyes; she was even speaking to him, but what she said, or what reply he + made, he could never by any means remember. Miss Bayard was to be his + companion, and with some effort and a few indistinct words he gave her his + arm. She asked if he was ill, and when a shake of the head answered the + query, she covered the few minutes of his disconcertion with her + conversation. He looked at her gratefully and gathered his personality + together. For Love had come to him like a two-edged sword, dividing the + flesh and the spirit, and he longed to cry aloud and relieve the sweet + torture of the possession. + </p> + <p> + Reaction, however, came quickly, and with it a wonderful access of all his + powers. The sweet, strong wine of Love went to his brain like celestial + nectar. All the witty, amusing things he had ever heard came trooping into + his memory, and the dinner was long delayed by his fine humor, his + pleasant anecdotes, and the laughing thoughts which others caught up and + illustrated in their own way. + </p> + <p> + It was a feast full of good things, but its spirit was not able to bear + transition. The company scattered quickly when it was over to the opera or + theater or to the rest of a quiet evening at home, for at the end + enthusiasm of any kind has a chilling effect on the feelings. None of the + party understood this result, and yet all were, in their way, affected by + the sudden fall of mental temperature. Mr. Denning went to his library and + took out his private ledger, a penitential sort of reading which he + relished after moods of any kind of enjoyment. Mrs. Denning selected Ethel + Rawdon for her text of disillusion. She “thought Ethel had been a little + jealous of Dora’s dress,” and Dora said, “It was one of her surprises, and + Ethel thought she ought to know everything.” “You are too obedient to + Ethel,” continued Mrs. Denning and Dora looked with a charming demureness + at her lover, and said, “She had to be obedient to some one wiser than + herself,” and so slipped her hand into Basil’s hand. And he understood the + promise, and with a look of passionate affection raised the little jeweled + pledge and kissed it. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps no one was more affected by this chill, critical after-hour than + Miss Bayard and Ethel. Mostyn accompanied them home, but he was depressed, + and his courtesy had the air of an obligation. He said he had a sudden + headache, and was not sorry when the ladies bid him “good night” on the + threshold. Indeed, he felt that he must have refused any invitation to + lengthen out the hours with them or anybody. He wanted one thing, and he + wanted that with all his soul—solitude, that he might fill it with + images of Dora, and with passionate promises that either by fair means or + by foul, by right or by wrong, he would win the bewitching woman for his + wife. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + “WHAT do you think of the evening, Aunt Ruth?” Ethel was in her aunt’s + room, comfortably wrapped in a pink kimono, when she asked this question. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of it, Ethel?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure.” + </p> + <p> + “The dinner was well served.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Who was the little dark man you talked with, aunt?” + </p> + <p> + “He was a Mr. Marriot, a banker, and a friend of Bryce Denning’s. He is a + fresh addition to society, I think. He had the word ‘gold’ always on his + lips; and he believes in it as good men believe in God. The general + conversation annoyed him; he could not understand men being entertained by + it.” + </p> + <p> + “They were, though, for once Jamie Sayer forgot to talk about his + pictures.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that the name of your escort?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And is he an artist?” + </p> + <p> + “A second-rate one. He is painting Dora’s picture, and is a great favorite + of Mrs. Denning’s.” + </p> + <p> + “A strange, wild-looking man. When I saw him first he was lying, + dislocated, over his ottoman rather than sitting on it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is a part of his affectations. He is really a childish, + self-conscious creature, with a very decided dash of vulgarity. He only + tries to look strange and wild, and he would be delighted if he knew you + had thought him so.” + </p> + <p> + “I was glad to see Claudine Jeffrys. How slim and graceful she is! And, + pray, who is that Miss Ullman?” + </p> + <p> + “A very rich woman. She has Bryce under consideration. Many other men have + been in the same position, for she is sure they all want her money and not + her. Perhaps she is right. I saw you talking to her, aunt.” + </p> + <p> + “For a short time. I did not enjoy her company. She is so mercilessly + realistic, she takes all the color out of life. Everything about her, even + her speech, is sharp-lined as the edge of a knife. She could make Bryce’s + life very miserable.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it might turn out the other way. Bryce Denning has capacities in + the same line. How far apart, how far above every man there, stood Basil + Stanhope!” + </p> + <p> + “He is strikingly handsome and graceful, and I am sure that his luminous + serenity does not arise from apathy. I should say he was a man of very + strong and tender feelings.” + </p> + <p> + “And he gives all the strength and tenderness of his feelings to Dora. Men + are strange creatures.” + </p> + <p> + “Who directed Dora’s dress this evening?” + </p> + <p> + “Herself or her maid. I had nothing to do with it. The effect was + stunning.” + </p> + <p> + “Fred thought so. In fact, Fred Hostyn——” + </p> + <p> + “Fell in love with her.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. ‘Fell,’ that is the word—fell prostrate. Usually the lover + of to-day walks very timidly and carefully into the condition, step by + step, and calculating every step before he takes it. Fred plunged headlong + into the whirling vortex. I am very sorry. It is a catastrophe.” + </p> + <p> + “I never witnessed the accident before. I have heard of men getting wounds + and falls, and developing new faculties in consequence, but we saw the + phenomenon take place this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Love, if it be love, is known in a moment. Man who never saw the sun + before would know it was the sun. In Fred’s case it was an instantaneous, + impetuous passion, flaming up at the sight of such unexpected beauty—a + passion that will probably fade as rapidly as it rose.” + </p> + <p> + “Fred is not that kind of a man, aunt. He does not like every one and + everything, but whoever or whatever he does like becomes a lasting part of + his life. Even the old chairs and tables at Mostyn are held as sacred + objects by him, though I have no doubt an American girl would trundle them + off to the garret. It is the same with the people. He actually regards the + Rawdons as belonging in some way to the Mostyns; and I do not believe he + has ever been in love before.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “He was so surprised by the attack. If it had been the tenth or twentieth + time he would have taken it more philosophically; besides, if he had ever + loved any woman, he would have gone on loving her, and we should have + known all about her perfections by this time.” + </p> + <p> + “Dora is nearly a married woman, and Mostyn knows it.” + </p> + <p> + “Nearly may make all the difference. When Dora is married he will be + compelled to accept the inevitable and make the best of it.” + </p> + <p> + “When Dora is married he will idealize her, and assure himself that her + marriage is the tragedy of both their lives.” + </p> + <p> + “Dora will give him no reason to suppose such a thing. I am sure she will + not. She is too much in love with Mr. Stanhope to notice any other lover.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, Ethel. Swiftly as Fred was vanquished she noticed it, + and many times—once even while leaning on Mr. Stanhope’s arm—she + turned the arrow in the heart wound with sweet little glances and smiles, + and pretty appeals to the blind adoration of her new lover. It was, to me, + a humiliating spectacle. How could she do it?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure Dora meant no wrong. It is so natural for a lovely girl to show + off a little. She will marry and forget Fred Mostyn lives.” + </p> + <p> + “And Fred will forget?” + </p> + <p> + “Fred will not forget.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall be very sorry for your father and grandmother.” + </p> + <p> + “What have they to do with Fred marrying?” + </p> + <p> + “A great deal. Fred has been so familiar and homely the last two or three + weeks, that they have come to look upon him as a future member of the + family. It has been ‘Cousin Ethel’ and ‘Aunt Ruth’ and even ‘grandmother’ + and ‘Cousin Fred,’ and no objections have been made to the use of such + personal terms. I think your father hopes for a closer tie between you and + Fred Mostyn than cousinship.” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever might have been is over. Do you imagine I could consent to be + the secondary deity, to come after Dora—Dora of all the girls I have + ever known? The idea is an insult to my heart and my intelligence. Nothing + on earth could make me submit to such an indignity.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not suppose, Ethel, that any wife is the first object of her + husband’s love.” + </p> + <p> + “At least they tell her she is so, swear it an inch deep; and no woman is + fool enough to look beyond that oath, but when she is sure that she is a + second best! AH! That is not a position I will ever take in any man’s + heart knowingly.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, Fred Mostyn will have to marry.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, he will make a duty of the event. The line of Mostyns must be + continued. England might go to ruin if the Mostyns perished off the + English earth; but, Aunt Ruth, I count myself worthy of a better fate than + to become a mere branch in the genealogical tree of the Mostyns. And that + is all Fred Mostyn’s wife will ever be to him, unless he marries Dora.” + </p> + <p> + “But that very supposition implies tragedy, and it is most unlikely.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for Dora is a good little thing. She has never been familiar with + vice. She has even a horror of poor women divorced from impossible + husbands. She believes her marriage will be watched by the angels, and + recorded in heaven. Basil has instructed her to regard marriage as a holy + sacrament, and I am sure he does the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why should we forecast evil to their names? As for Cousin Fred, I + dare say he is comfortably asleep.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure he is not. I believe he is smoking and calling himself names + for not having come to New York last May, when father first invited him. + Had he done so things might have been different.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they might. When Good Fortune calls, and the called ‘will not when + they may,’ then, ‘when they will’ Good Fortune has become Misfortune. + Welcome a pleasure or a gain at once, or don’t answer it at all. It was on + this rock, Ethel, the bark that carried my love went to pieces. I know; + yes, I know!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear aunt!” + </p> + <p> + “It is all right now, dear; but things might have been that are not. As to + Dora, I think she may be trusted with Basil Stanhope. He is one of the + best and handsomest men I ever saw, and he has now rights in Dora’s love + no one can tamper with. Mostyn is an honorable man.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, but— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Love will venture in, + Where he daurna well be seen; + O Love will venture in, + Where Wisdom once has been— +</pre> + <p> + and then, aunt, what then?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART2" id="link2H_PART2"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART SECOND — PLAYING WITH FIRE + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + THE next day after lunch Ethel said she was going to walk down to Gramercy + Park and spend an hour or two with her grandmother, and “Will you send the + carriage for me at five o’clock?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Your father has ordered the carriage to be at the Holland House at five + o’clock. It can call for you first, and then go to the Holland House. But + do not keep your father waiting. If he is not at the entrance give your + card to the outside porter; he will have it sent up to Fred’s apartments.” + </p> + <p> + “Then father is calling on Fred? What for? Is he sick?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, business of some kind. I hope you will have a pleasant walk.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no doubt of it.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, she was radiant with its exhilaration when she reached Gramercy + Park. As she ran up the steps of the big, old-fashioned house she saw + Madam at the window picking up some dropped stitches in her knitting. + Madam saw her at the same moment, and the old face and the young face both + alike kindled with love, as well as with happy anticipation of coveted + intercourse. + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad to see you, darling Granny. I could not wait until + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “And why should you, child? I have been watching for you all morning. I + want to hear about the Denning dinner. I suppose you went?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we went; we had to. Dinners in strange houses are a common calamity; + I can’t expect to be spared what everyone has to endure.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be affected, Ethel. You like going out to dinner. Of course, you + do! It is only natural, considering.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t, Granny. I like dances and theaters and operas, but I don’t like + dinners. However, the Denning dinner was a grand exception. It gave me and + the others a sensation.” + </p> + <p> + “I expected that.” + </p> + <p> + “It was beautifully ordered. Majordomo Parkinson saw to that. If he had + arranged it for his late employer, the Duke of Richmond, it could not have + been finer. There was not a break anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “How many were present?” + </p> + <p> + “Just a dozen.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Denning and Bryce, of course. Who were the others?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Stanhope, of course. Granny, he wore his clerical dress. It made him + look so remarkable.” + </p> + <p> + “He did right. A clergyman ought to look different from other men. I do + not believe Basil Stanhope, having assumed the dress of a servant of God, + would put it off one hour for any social exigency. Why should he? It is a + grander attire than any military or naval uniform, and no court dress is + comparable, for it is the court dress of the King of kings.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, dear Granny; you always make things clear to me, yet I meet + lots of clergymen in evening dress.” + </p> + <p> + “Then they ought not to be clergymen. They ought not to wear coats in + which they can hold any kind of opinions. Who was your companion?” + </p> + <p> + “Jamie Sayer.” + </p> + <p> + “I never heard of the man.” + </p> + <p> + “He is an artist, and is painting Dora’s likeness. He is getting on now, + but in the past, like all artists, he has suffered a deal.” + </p> + <p> + “God’s will be done. Let them suffer. It is good for genius to suffer. Is + he in love with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Gracious, Granny! His head is so full of pictures that no woman could + find room there, and if one did, the next new picture would crowd her + out.” + </p> + <p> + “End that story, it is long enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know Miss Ullman?” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard of her. Who has not?” + </p> + <p> + “She has Bryce Denning on trial now. If he marries her I shall pity him.” + </p> + <p> + “Pity him! Not I, indeed! He would have his just reward. Like to like, and + Amen to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there was Claudine Jeffrys, looking quite ethereal, but very + lovely.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. Her lover was killed in Cuba, and she has been the type of + faithful grief ever since. She looks it and dresses it to perfection.” + </p> + <p> + “And feels it?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps she does. I am not skilled in the feelings of pensive, + heart-broken maidens. But her case is a very common one. Lovers are + nowhere against husbands, yet how many thousands of good women lose their + husbands every year? If they are poor, they have to hide their grief and + work for them-selves and their families; if they are rich, very few people + believe that they are really sorry to be widows. Are any poor creatures + more jeered at than widows? No man believes they are grieving for the loss + of their husbands. Then why should they all sympathize with Claudine about + the loss of a lover?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps lovers are nicer than husbands.” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty much all alike. I have known a few good husbands. Your grandfather + was one, your father another. But you have said nothing about Fred. Did he + look handsome? Did he make a sensation? Was he a cousin to be proud of?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, Granny, Fred was the whole party. He is not naturally handsome, + but he has distinction, and he was well-dressed. And I never heard anyone + talk as he did. He told the most delightful stories, he was full of + mimicry and wit, and said things that brought everyone into the merry + talk; and I am sure he charmed and astonished the whole party. Mr. Denning + asked me quietly afterwards ‘what university he was educated at.’ I think + he took it all as education, and had some wild ideas of finishing Bryce in + a similar manner.” + </p> + <p> + Madam was radiant. “I told you so,” she said proudly. “The Mostyns have + intellect as well as land. There are no stupid Mostyns. I hope you asked + him to play. I think his way of handling a piano would have taught them a + few things Russians and Poles know nothing about. Poor things! How can + they have any feelings left?” + </p> + <p> + “There was no piano in the room, Granny, and the company separated very + soon after dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Somehow you ought to have managed it, Ethel.” Then with a touch of + anxiety, “I hope all this cleverness was natural—I mean, I hope it + wasn’t champagne. You know, Ethel, we think as we drink, and Fred isn’t + used to those frisky wines. Mostyn cellars are full of old sherry and + claret, and Fred’s father was always against frothing, sparkling wines.” + </p> + <p> + “Granny, it was all Fred. Wine had nothing to do with it, but a certain + woman had; in fact, she was the inspirer, and Fred fell fifty fathoms deep + in love with her the very moment she entered the room. He heard not, felt + not, thought not, so struck with love was he. Ruth got him to a window for + a few moments and so hid his emotion until he could get himself together.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what a tale! What a cobweb tale! I don’t believe a word of it,” and + she laughed merrily. + </p> + <p> + “‘Tis true as gospel, Granny.” + </p> + <p> + “Name her, then. Who was the woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Dora.” + </p> + <p> + “It is beyond belief, above belief, out of all reason. It cannot be, and + it shall not be, and if you are making up a story to tease me, Ethel + Rawdon——” + </p> + <p> + “Grandmother, let me tell you just how it came about. We were all in the + room waiting for Dora, and she suddenly entered. She was dressed in soft + amber silk from head to feet; diamonds were in her black hair, and on the + bands across her shoulders, on her corsage, on her belt, her hands, and + even her slippers. Under the electric lights she looked as if she was in a + golden aura, scintillating with stars. She took Fred’s breath away. He was + talking to Ruth, and he could not finish the word he was saying. Ruth + thought he was going to faint——” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t tell me such nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, grandmother, this nonsense is truth. As I said before, Ruth took + him aside until he got control of himself; then, as he was Dora’s escort, + he had to go to her. Ruth introduced them, and as she raised her soft, + black eyes to his, and put her hand on his arm, something happened again, + but this time it was like possession. He was the courtier in a moment, his + eyes flashed back her glances, he gave her smile for smile, and then when + they were seated side by side he became inspired and talked as I have told + you. It is the truth, grandmother.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there are many different kinds of fools, but Fred Mostyn is the + worst I ever heard tell of. Does he not know that the girl is engaged?” + </p> + <p> + “Knows it as well as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “None of our family were ever fools before, and I hope Fred will come + round quickly. Do you think Dora noticed the impression she made?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Aunt Ruth noticed Dora; and Ruth says Dora ‘turned the arrow in the + heart wound’ all the evening.” + </p> + <p> + “What rubbish you are talking! Say in good English what you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “She tried every moment they, were together to make him more and more in + love with her.” + </p> + <p> + “What is her intention? A girl doesn’t carry on that way for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know. Dora has got beyond me lately. And, grandmother, I am not + troubling about the event as it regards Dora or Fred or Basil Stanhope, + but as it regards Ethel.” + </p> + <p> + “What have you to do with it?” + </p> + <p> + “That is just what I want to have clearly understood. Aunt Ruth told me + that father and you would be disappointed if I did not marry Fred.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to disappoint you, but I never shall marry Fred Mostyn. + Never!” + </p> + <p> + “I rather think you will have to settle that question with your father, + Ethel.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I have settled it with myself. The man has given to Dora all the love + that he has to give. I will have a man’s whole heart, and not fragments + and finger-ends of it.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, that is right. But I can’t say much, Ethel, when I only know + one side of the case, can I? I must wait and hear what Fred has to say. + But I like your spirit and your way of bringing what is wrong straight up + to question. You are a bit Yorkshire yet, whatever you think gets quick to + your tongue, and then out it comes. Good girl, your heart is on your + lips.” + </p> + <p> + They talked the afternoon away on this subject, but Madam’s last words + were not only advisory, they were in a great measure sympathetic. “Be + straight with yourself, Ethel,” she said, “then Fred Mostyn can do as he + likes; you will be all right.” + </p> + <p> + She accepted the counsel with a kiss, and then drove to the Holland House + for her father. He was not waiting, as Ruth had supposed he would be, but + then she was five minutes too soon. She sent up her card, and then let her + eyes fall upon a wretched beggar man who was trying to play a violin, but + was unable by reason of hunger and cold. He looked as if he was dying, and + she was moved with a great pity, and longed for her father to come and + give some help. While she was anxiously watching, a young man was also + struck with the suffering on the violinist’s face. He spoke a few words to + him, and taking the violin, drew from it such strains of melody, that in a + few moments a crowd had gathered within the hotel and before it. First + there was silence, then a shout of delight; and when it ceased the + player’s voice thrilled every heart to passionate patriotism, as he sang + with magnificent power and feeling— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There is not a spot on this wide-peopled earth + So dear to our heart as the Land of our Birth, etc. +</pre> + <p> + A tumult of hearty applause followed, and then he cried, “Gentlemen, this + old man fought for the land of our birth. He is dying of hunger,” and into + the old man’s hat he dropped a bill and then handed it round to + millionaire and workingman alike. Ethel’s purse was in her hand. As he + passed along the curb at which her carriage stood, he looked at her eager + face, and with a smile held out the battered hat. She, also smiling, + dropped her purse into it. In a few moments the hat was nearly full; the + old man and the money were confided to the care of an hotel officer, the + stream of traffic and pleasure went on its usual way, and the musician + disappeared. + </p> + <p> + All that evening the conversation turned constantly to this event. Mostyn + was sure he was a member of some operatic troupe. “Voices of such rare + compass and exceptional training were not to be found among + non-professional people,” he said, and Judge Rawdon was of his opinion. + </p> + <p> + “His voice will haunt me for many days,” he said. “Those two lines, for + instance— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Tis the home of our childhood, that beautiful spot + Which memory retains when all else is forgot. +</pre> + <p> + The melody was wonderful. I wish we could find out where he is singing. + His voice, as I said, haunts my ear.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel might have made the same remark, but she was silent. She had noticed + the musician more closely than her father or Fred Mostyn, and when Ruth + Bayard asked her if his personality was interesting, she was able to give + a very clear description of the man. + </p> + <p> + “I do not believe he is a professional singer; he is too young,” she + answered. “I should think he was about twenty-five years old, tall, + slender, and alert. He was fashionably dressed, as if he had been, or was + going, to an afternoon reception. Above all things, I should say he was a + gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + Oh, why are our hearts so accessible to our eyes? Only a smiling glance + had passed between Ethel and the Unknown, yet his image was prisoned + behind the bars of her eyelids. On this day of days she had met Love on + the crowded street, and he had + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “But touched his lute wherein was audible + The certain secret thing he had to tell; + Only their mirrored eyes met silently”; +</pre> + <p> + and a sweet trouble, a restless, pleasing curiosity, had filled her + consciousness. Who was he? Where had he gone to? When should they meet + again? Ah, she understood now how Emmeline Labiche had felt constrained to + seek her lover from the snows of Canada to the moss-veiled oaks of + Louisiana. + </p> + <p> + But her joyous, hopeful soul could not think of love and disappointment at + the same moment. “I have seen him, and I shall see him again. We met by + appointment. Destiny introduced us. Neither of us will forget, and + somewhere, some day, I shall be waiting, and he will come.” + </p> + <p> + Thus this daughter of sunshine and hope answered herself; and why not? All + good things come to those who can wait in sweet tranquillity for them, and + seldom does Fortune fail to bring love and heart’s-ease upon the changeful + stream of changeful days to those who trust her for them. + </p> + <p> + On the following morning, when the two girls entered the parlor, they + found the Judge smoking there. He had already breakfasted, and looked over + the three or four newspapers whose opinions he thought worthy of his + consideration. They were lying in a state of confusion at his side, and + Ethel glanced at them curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Did any of the papers speak of the singing before the Holland House?” she + asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I think reporters must be ubiquitous. All my papers had some sort of + a notice of the affair.” + </p> + <p> + “What do they say?” + </p> + <p> + “One gave the bare circumstances of the case; another indulged in what was + supposed to be humorous description; a third thought it might have been + the result of a bet or dare; a fourth was of the opinion that conspiracy + between the old beggar and the young man was not unlikely, and credited + the exhibition as a cleverly original way of obtaining money. But all + agreed in believing the singer to be a member of some opera company now in + the city.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel was indignant. “It was neither ‘bet’ nor ‘dare’ nor ‘conspiracy,’” + she said. “I saw the singer as he came walking rapidly down the avenue, + and he looked as happy and careless as a boy whistling on a country lane. + When his eyes fell on the old man he hesitated, just a moment, and then + spoke to him. I am sure they were absolute strangers to each other.” + </p> + <p> + “But how can you be sure of a thing like that, Ethel?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know ‘how,’ Ruth, but all the same, I am sure. And as for it + being a new way of begging, that is not correct. Not many years ago, one + of the De Reszke brothers led a crippled soldier into a Paris cafe, and + sang the starving man into comfort in twenty minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “And the angelic Parepa Rosa did as much for a Mexican woman, whom she + found in the depths of sorrow and poverty—brought her lifelong + comfort with a couple of her songs. Is it not likely, then, that the + gallant knight of the Holland House is really a member of some opera + company, that he knew of these examples and followed them?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not unlikely, Ruth, yet I do not believe that is the explanation.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the Judge, throwing his cigarette into the fire, “if the + singer had never heard of De Reszke and Parepa Rosa, we may suppose him a + gentleman of such culture as to be familiar with the exquisite Greek + legend of Phoebus Apollo—that story would be sufficient to inspire + any man with his voice. Do you know it?” + </p> + <p> + Both girls answered with an enthusiastic entreaty for its recital, and the + Judge went to the library and returned with a queer-looking little book, + bound in marbled paper. + </p> + <p> + “It was my father’s copy,” he said, “an Oxford edition.” And he turned the + leaves with loving carefulness until he came to the incident. Then being a + fine reader, the words fell from his lips in a stately measure better than + music: + </p> + <p> + “After Troy fell there came to Argos a scarred soldier seeking alms. Not + deigning to beg, he played upon a lyre; but the handling of arms had + robbed him of his youthful power, and he stood by the portico hour after + hour, and no one dropped him a lepton. Weary, hungry and thirsty, he + leaned in despair against a pillar. A youth came to him and asked, ‘Why + not play on, Akeratos?’ And Akeratos meekly answered, ‘I am no longer + skilled.’ ‘Then,’ said the stranger, ‘hire me thy lyre; here is a + didrachmon. I will play, and thou shalt hold out thy cap and be dumb.’ So + the stranger took the lyre and swept the strings, and men heard, as it + were, the clashing of swords. And he sang the fall of Troy—how + Hector perished, slain by Achilles, the rush of chariots, the ring of + hoofs, the roar of flames—and as he sang the people stopped to + listen, breathless and eager, with rapt, attentive ear. And when the + singer ceased the soldier’s cap was filled with coins, and the people + begged for yet another song. Then he sang of Venus, till all men’s hearts + were softly stirred, and the air was purple and misty and full of the + scent of roses. And in their joy men cast before Akeratos not coins only, + but silver bracelets and rings, and gems and ornaments of gold, until the + heap had to its utmost grown, making Akeratos rich in all men’s sight. + Then suddenly the singer stood in a blaze of light, and the men of Argos + saw their god of song, Phoebus Apollo, rise in glory to the skies.” + </p> + <p> + The girls were delighted; the Judge pleased both with his own rendering of + the legend and the manifest appreciation with which it had been received. + For a moment or two all felt the exquisite touch of the antique world, and + Ethel said, in a tone of longing, + </p> + <p> + “I wish that I had been a Greek and lived in Argos.” + </p> + <p> + “You would not have liked it as well as being an American and living in + New York,” said her father. + </p> + <p> + “And you would have been a pagan,” added Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “They were such lovely pagans, Ruth, and they dreamed such beautiful + dreams of life. Leave the book with me, father; I will take good care of + it.” + </p> + <p> + Then the Judge gave her the book, and with a sigh looked into the modern + street. “I ought to be down at Bowling Green instead of reading Greek + stories to you girls,” he said rather brusquely. “I have a very important + railway case on my mind, and Phoebus Apollo has nothing to do with it. + Good morning. And, Ethel, do not deify the singer on the avenue. He will + not turn out, like the singer by the portico, to be a god; be sure of + that.” + </p> + <p> + The door closed before she could answer, and both women remained silent a + few minutes. Then Ethel went to the window, and Ruth asked if she was + going to Dora’s. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” was the answer, but without interest. + </p> + <p> + “You are tired with all this shopping and worry?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not only that I am tired, I am troubled about Fred Mostyn.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know why. It is only a vague unrest as yet. But one thing I + know, I shall oppose anything like Fred making himself intimate with + Dora.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you will do wisely in that.” + </p> + <p> + But in a week Ethel realized that in opposing a lover like Fred Mostyn she + had a task beyond her ability. Fred had nothing to do as important in his + opinion as the cultivation of his friendship with Dora Denning. He called + it “friendship,” but this misnomer deceived no one, not even Dora. And + when Dora encouraged his attentions, how was Ethel to prevent them without + some explanation which would give a sort of reality to what was as yet a + nameless suspicion? + </p> + <p> + Yet every day the familiarity increased. He seemed to divine their + engagements. If they went to their jeweler’s, or to a bazaar, he was sure + to stroll in after them. When they came out of the milliner’s or + modiste’s, Fred was waiting. “He had secured a table at Sherry’s; he had + ordered lunch, and all was ready.” It was too great an effort to resist + his entreaty. Perhaps no one wished to do so. The girls were utterly tired + and hungry, and the thought of one of Fred’s lunches was very pleasant. + Even if Basil Stanhope was with them, it appeared to be all the better. + Fred always included Dora’s lover with a charming courtesy; and, indeed, + at such hours, was in his most delightful mood. Stanhope appeared to + inspire him. His mentality when the clergyman was present took possession + of every incident that came and went, and clothed it in wit and + pleasantry. Dora’s plighted lover honestly thought Dora’s undeclared lover + the cleverest and most delightful of men. And he had no opportunity of + noting, as Ethel did, the difference in Fred’s attitude when he was not + present. Then Mostyn’s merry mood became sentimental, and his words were + charged with soft meanings and looks of adoration, and every tone and + every movement made to express far more than the tongue would have dared + to utter. + </p> + <p> + As this flirtation progressed—for on Dora’s part it was only vanity + and flirtation—Ethel grew more and more uneasy. She almost wished + for some trifling overt act which would give her an excuse for warning + Dora; and one day, after three weeks of such philandering, the opportunity + came. + </p> + <p> + “I think you permit Fred Mostyn to take too much liberty with you, Dora,” + she said as soon as they were in Dora’s parlor, and as she spoke she threw + off her coat in a temper which effectively emphasized the words. + </p> + <p> + “I have been expecting this ill-nature, Ethel. You were cross all the time + we were at lunch. You spoiled all our pleasure Pray, what have I been + doing wrong with Fred Mostyn?” + </p> + <p> + “It was Fred who did wrong. His compliments to you were outrageous. He has + no right to say such things, and you have no right to listen to them.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not to blame if he compliments me instead of you. He was simply + polite, but then it was to the wrong person.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it was. Such politeness he had no right to offer you.” + </p> + <p> + “It would have been quite proper if offered you, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “It would not. It would have been a great impertinence. I have given him + neither claim nor privilege to address me as ‘My lovely Ethel!’ He called + you many times ‘My lovely Dora!’ You are not his lovely Dora. When he put + on your coat, he drew you closer than was proper; and I saw him take your + hand and hold it in a clasp—not necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you listen and watch? It is vulgar. You told me so yourself. And I + am lovely. Basil says that as well as Fred. Do you want a man to lie and + say I am ugly?” + </p> + <p> + “You are fencing the real question. He had no business to use the word + ‘my.’ You are engaged to Basil Stanhope, not to Fred Mostyn.” + </p> + <p> + “I am Basil’s lovely fiancee; I am Fred’s lovely friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I hope Fred understands the difference.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he does. Some people are always thinking evil.” + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking of Mr. Stanhope’s rights.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Ethel; but I can take care of Mr. Stanhope’s rights without + your assistance. If you had said you were thinking of Ethel Rawdon’s + rights you would have been nearer the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Dora, I will not listen——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you shall listen to me! I know that you expected Fred to fall in love + with you, but if he did not like to do so, am I to blame?” Ethel was + resuming her coat at this point in the conversation, and Dora understood + the proud silence with which the act was being accomplished. Then a score + of good reasons for preventing such a definite quarrel flashed through her + selfish little mind, and she threw her arms around Ethel and begged a + thousand pardons for her rudeness. And Ethel had also reasons for avoiding + dissension at this time. A break in their friendship now would bring Dora + forward to explain, and Dora had a wonderful cleverness in presenting her + own side of any question. Ethel shrunk from her innuendoes concerning + Fred, and she knew that Basil would be made to consider her a meddling, + jealous girl who willingly saw evil in Dora’s guileless enjoyment of a + clever man’s company. + </p> + <p> + To be misunderstood, to be blamed and pitied, to be made a pedestal for + Dora’s superiority, was a situation not to be contemplated. It was better + to look over Dora’s rudeness in the flush of Dora’s pretended sorrow for + it. So they forgave each other, or said they did, and then Dora explained + herself. She declared that she had not the least intention of any wrong. + “You see, Ethel, what a fool the man is about me. Somebody says we ought + to treat a fool according to his folly. That is all I was doing. I am sure + Basil is so far above Fred Mostyn that I could never put them in + comparison—and Basil knows it. He trusts me.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Dora. If Basil knows it, and trusts you, I have no more to + say. I am now sorry I named the subject.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, we will forget that it was named. The fact is, Ethel, I want + all the fun I can get now. When I am Basil’s wife I shall have to be very + sedate, and of course not even pretend to know if any other man admires + me. Little lunches with Fred, theater and opera parties, and even dances + will be over for me. Oh, dear, how much I am giving up for Basil! And + sometimes I think he never realizes how dreadful it must be for me.” + </p> + <p> + “You will have your lover all the time then. Surely his constant + companionship will atone for all you relinquish.” + </p> + <p> + “Take off your coat and hat, Ethel, and sit down comfortably. I don’t know + about Basil’s constant companionship. Tete-a-tetes are tiresome affairs + sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Ethel, as she half-reluctantly removed her coat, “they were + a bore undoubtedly even in Paradise. I wonder if Eve was tired of Adam’s + conversation, and if that made her listen to—the other party.” + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad you mentioned that circumstance, Ethel. I shall remember it. + Some day, no doubt, I shall have to remind Basil of the failure of Adam to + satisfy Eve’s idea of perfect companionship.” And Dora put her pretty, + jeweled hands up to her ears and laughed a low, musical laugh with a + childish note of malice running through it. + </p> + <p> + This pseudo-reconciliation was not conducive to pleasant intercourse. + After a short delay Ethel made an excuse for an early departure, and Dora + accepted it without her usual remonstrance. The day had been one of + continual friction, and Dora’s irritable pettishness hard to bear, because + it had now lost that childish unreason which had always induced Ethel’s + patience, for Dora had lately put away all her ignorant immaturities. She + had become a person of importance, and had realized the fact. The young + ladies of St. Jude’s had made a pet of their revered rector’s love, and + the elder ladies had also shown a marked interest in her. The Dennings’ + fine house was now talked about and visited. Men of high financial power + respected Mr. Dan Denning, and advised the social recognition of his + family; and Mrs. Denning was not now found more eccentric than many other + of the new rich, who had been tolerated in the ranks of the older + plutocrats. Even Bryce had made the standing he desired. He was seen with + the richest and idlest young men, and was invited to the best houses. + Those fashionable women who had marriageable daughters considered him not + ineligible, and men temporarily hampered for cash knew that they could + find smiling assistance for a consideration at Bryce’s little office on + William Street. + </p> + <p> + These and other points of reflection troubled Ethel, and she was glad the + long trial was nearing its end, for she knew quite well the disagreement + of that evening had done no good. Dora would certainly repeat their + conversation, in her own way of interpreting it, to both Basil Stanhope + and Fred Mostyn. More than likely both Bryce and Mrs. Denning would also + hear how her innocent kindness had been misconstrued; and in each case she + could imagine the conversation that took place, and the subsequent + bestowal of pitying, scornful or angry feeling that would insensibly find + its way to her consciousness without any bird of the air to carry it. + </p> + <p> + She felt, too, that reprisals of any kind were out of the question. They + were not only impolitic, they were difficult. Her father had an aversion + to Dora, and was likely to seize the first opportunity for requesting + Ethel to drop the girl’s acquaintance. Ruth also had urged her to withdraw + from any active part in the wedding, strengthening her advice with the + assurance that when a friendship began to decline it ought to be abandoned + at once. There was only her grandmother to go to, and at first she did not + find her at all interested in the trouble. She had just had a dispute with + her milkman, was inclined to give him all her suspicions and all her angry + words—“an impertinent, cheating creature,” she said; and then Ethel + had to hear the history of the month’s cream and of the milkman’s + extortion, with the old lady’s characteristic declaration: + </p> + <p> + “I told him plain what I thought of his ways, but I paid him every cent I + owed him. Thank God, I am not unreasonable!” + </p> + <p> + Neither was she unreasonable when Ethel finally got her to listen to her + own serious grievance with Dora. + </p> + <p> + “If you will have a woman for a friend, Ethel, you must put up with + womanly ways; and it is best to keep your mouth shut concerning such ways. + I hate to see you whimpering and whining about wrongs you have been + cordially inviting for weeks and months and years.” + </p> + <p> + “Grandmother!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you have been sowing thorns for yourself, and then you go unshod + over them. I mean that Dora has this fine clergyman, and Fred Mostyn, and + her brother, and mother, and father all on her side; all of them sure that + Dora can do no wrong, all of them sure that Ethel, poor girl, must be + mistaken, or prudish, or jealous, or envious.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, grandmother, you are too cruel.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you have a few friends on your own side?” + </p> + <p> + “Father and Ruth never liked Dora. And Fred—I told you how Fred + acted as soon as he saw her!” + </p> + <p> + “There was Royal Wheelock, James Clifton, or that handsome Dick Potter. + Why didn’t you ask them to join you at your lunches and dances? You ought + to have pillared your own side. A girl without her beaux is always on the + wrong side if the girl with beaux is against her.” + </p> + <p> + “It was the great time of Dora’s life. I wished her to have all the glory + of it.” + </p> + <p> + “All her own share—that was right. All of your share, also—that + was as wrong as it could be.” + </p> + <p> + “Clifton is yachting, Royal and I had a little misunderstanding, and Dick + Potter is too effusive.” + </p> + <p> + “But Dick’s effusiveness would have been a good thing for Fred’s + effusiveness. Two men can’t go on a complimentary ran-tan at the same + table. They freeze one another out. That goes without saying. But Dora’s + indiscretions are none of your business while she is under her father’s + roof; and I don’t know if she hadn’t a friend in the world, if they would + be your business. I have always been against people trying to do the work + of THEM that are above us. We are told THEY seek and THEY save, and it’s + likely they will look after Dora in spite of her being so unknowing of + herself as to marry a priest in a surplice, when a fool in motley would + have been more like the thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to quarrel with Dora. After all, I like her. We have been + friends a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, don’t make an enemy of her. One hundred friends are too few + against one enemy. One hundred friends will wish you well, and one enemy + will DO you ill. God love you, child! Take the world as you find it. Only + God can make it any better. When is this blessed wedding to come off?” + </p> + <p> + “In two weeks. You got cards, did you not?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe I did. They don’t matter. Let Dora and her flirtations alone, + unless you set your own against them. Like cures like. If the priest sees + nothing wrong——” + </p> + <p> + “He thinks all she does is perfect.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say. Priests are a soft lot, they’ll believe anything. He’s + love-blind at present. Some day, like the prophet of Pethor, <a + href="#linknote-1" name="linknoteref-1" id="linknoteref-1"><small>1</small></a> + he will get his eyes opened. As for Fred Mostyn, I shall have a good deal + to say about him by and by, so I’ll say nothing now.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-1" id="linknote-1"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 1 (<a href="#linknoteref-1">return</a>)<br /> [ One of the Hebrew + prophets.] + </p> + <p> + “You promised, grandmother, not to talk to me any more about Fred.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a very inconsiderate promise, a very irrational promise! I am + sorry I made it—and I don’t intend to keep it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it takes two to hold a conversation, grandmother.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure it does. But if I talk to you, I hope to goodness you will + have the decency to answer me. I wouldn’t believe anything different.” And + she looked into Ethel’s face with such a smiling confidence in her good + will and obedience, that Ethel could only laugh and give her twenty kisses + as she stood up to put on her hat and coat. + </p> + <p> + “You always get your way, Granny,” she said; and the old lady, as she + walked with her to the door, answered, “I have had my way for nearly + eighty years, dearie, and I’ve found it a very good way. I’m not likely to + change it now.” + </p> + <p> + “And none of us want you to change it, dear. Granny’s way is always a wise + way.” And she kissed her again ere she ran down the steps to her carriage. + Yet as the old lady stepped slowly back to the parlor, she muttered, “Fred + Mostyn is a fool! If he had any sense when he left England, he has lost it + since he came here.” + </p> + <p> + Of course nothing good came of this irritable interference. Meddling with + the conscience of another person is a delicate and difficult affair, and + Ruth had already warned Ethel of its certain futility. But the days were + rapidly wearing away to the great day, for which so many other days had + been wasted in fatiguing worry, and incredible extravagance of health and + temper and money—and after it? There would certainly be a break in + associations. Temptation would be removed, and Basil Stanhope, relieved + for a time from all the duties of his office, would have continual + opportunities for making eternally secure the affection of the woman he + had chosen. + </p> + <p> + It was to be a white wedding, and for twenty hours previous to its + celebration it seemed as if all the florists in New York were at work in + the Denning house and in St. Jude’s church. The sacred place was radiant + with white lilies. White lilies everywhere; and the perfume would have + been overpowering, had not the weather been so exquisite that open windows + were possible and even pleasant. To the softest strains of music Dora + entered leaning on her father’s arm and her beauty and splendor evoked + from the crowd present an involuntary, simultaneous stir of wonder and + delight. She had hesitated many days between the simplicity of white + chiffon and lilies of the valley, and the magnificence of brocaded satin + in which a glittering thread of silver was interwoven. The satin had won + the day, and the sunshine fell upon its beauty, as she knelt at the altar, + like sunshine falling upon snow. It shone and gleamed and glistened as if + it were an angel’s robe; and this scintillating effect was much increased + by the sparkling of the diamonds in her hair, and at her throat and waist + and hands and feet. Nor was her brilliant youth affected by the + overshadowing tulle usually so unbecoming. It veiled her from head to + feet, and was held in place by a diamond coronal. All her eight maids, + though lovely girls, looked wan and of the earth beside her. For her sake + they had been content with the simplicity of chiffon and white lace hats, + and she stood among them lustrous as some angelic being. Stanhope was + entranced by her beauty, and no one on this day wondered at his + infatuation or thought remarkable the ecstasy of reverent rapture with + which he received the hand of his bride. His sense of the gift was + ravishing. She was now his love, his wife forever, and when Ethel slipped + forward to part and throw backward the concealing veil, he very gently + restrained her, and with his own hands uncovered the blushing beauty, and + kissed her there at the altar. Then amid a murmur and stir of delighted + sympathy he took his wife upon his arm, and turned with her to the life + they were to face together. + </p> + <p> + Two hours later all was a past dream. Bride and bridegroom had slipped + quietly away, and the wedding guests had arrived at that rather noisy + indifference which presages the end of an entertainment. Then flushed and + tired with hurrying congratulations and good wishes that stumbled over + each other, carriage after carriage departed; and Ethel and her companions + went to Dora’s parlor to rest awhile and discuss the event of the day. But + Dora’s parlor was in a state of confusion. It had, too, an air of loss, + and felt like a gilded cage from which the bird had flown. They looked + dismally at its discomfort and went downstairs. Men were removing the + faded flowers or sitting at the abandoned table eating and drinking. + Everywhere there was disorder and waste, and from the servants’ quarter + came a noisy sense of riotous feasting. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Mrs. Denning?” Ethel asked a footman who was gathering together + the silver with the easy unconcern of a man whose ideas were rosy with + champagne. He looked up with a provoking familiarity at the question, and + sputtered out, “She’s lying down crying and making a fuss. Miss Day is + with her, soothing of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us go home,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + And so, weary with pleasure, and heart-heavy with feelings that had no + longer any reason to exist, pale with fatigue, untidy with crush, their + pretty white gowns sullied and passe, each went her way; in every heart a + wonder whether the few hilarious hours of strange emotions were worth all + they claimed as their right and due. + </p> + <p> + Ruth had gone home earlier, and Ethel found her resting in her room. “I am + worn out, Ruth,” was her first remark. “I am going to bed for three or + four days. It was a dreadful ordeal.” + </p> + <p> + “One to which you may have to submit.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. My marriage will be a religious ceremony, with half a + dozen of my nearest relatives as witnesses.” + </p> + <p> + “I noticed Fred slip away before Dora went. He looked ill.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say he is ill—and no wonder. Good night, Ruth. I am going to + sleep. Tell father all about the wedding. I don’t want to hear it named + again—not as long as I live.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + THREE days passed and Ethel had regained her health and spirits, but Fred + Mostyn had not called since the wedding. Ruth thought some inquiry ought + to be made, and Judge Rawdon called at the Holland House. There he was + told that Mr. Mostyn had not been well, and the young man’s countenance + painfully confessed the same thing. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Fred, why did you not send us word you were ill?” asked the + Judge. + </p> + <p> + “I had fever, sir, and I feared it might be typhoid. Nothing of the kind, + however. I shall be all right in a day or two.” + </p> + <p> + The truth was far from typhoid, and Fred knew it. He had left the wedding + breakfast because he had reached the limit of his endurance. Words, + stinging as whips, burned like hot coals in his mouth, and he felt that he + could not restrain them much longer. Hastening to his hotel, he locked + himself in his rooms, and passed the night in a frenzy of passion. The + very remembrance of the bridegroom’s confident transport put mur-der in + his heart—murder which he could only practice by his wishes, + impotent to compass their desires. + </p> + <p> + “I wish the fellow shot! I wish him hanged! I would kill him twenty times + in twenty different ways! And Dora! Dora! Dora! What did she see in him? + What could she see? Love her? He knows nothing of love—such love as + tortures me.” Backwards and forwards he paced the floor to such + imprecations and ejaculations as welled up from the whirlpool of rage in + his heart, hour following hour, till in the blackness of his misery he + could no longer speak. His brain had become stupefied by the iteration of + inevitable loss, and so refused any longer to voice a woe beyond remedy. + Then he stood still and called will and reason to council him. “This way + madness lies,” he thought. “I must be quiet—I must sleep—I + must forget.” + </p> + <p> + But it was not until the third day that a dismal, sullen stillness + succeeded the storm of rage and grief, and he awoke from a sleep of + exhaustion feeling as if he were withered at his heart. He knew that life + had to be taken up again, and that in all its farces he must play his + part. At first the thought of Mostyn Hall presented itself as an asylum. + It stood amid thick woods, and there were miles of wind-blown wolds and + hills around it. He was lord and master there, no one could intrude upon + his sorrow; he could nurse it in those lonely rooms to his heart’s + content. Every day, however, this gloomy resolution grew fainter, and one + morning he awoke and laughed it to scorn. + </p> + <p> + “Frederick’s himself again,” he quoted, “and he must have been very far + off himself when he thought of giving up or of running away. No, Fred + Mostyn, you will stay here. ‘Tis a country where the impossible does not + exist, and the unlikely is sure to happen—a country where marriage + is not for life or death, and where the roads to divorce are manifold and + easy. There are a score of ways and means. I will stay and think them + over; ‘twill be odd if I cannot force Fate to change her mind.” + </p> + <p> + A week after Dora’s marriage he found himself able to walk up the avenue + to the Rawdon house; but he arrived there weary and wan enough to + instantly win the sympathy of Ruth and Ethel, and he was immensely + strengthened by the sense of home and kindred, and of genuine kindness to + which he felt a sort of right. He asked Ruth if he might eat dinner with + them. He said he was hungry, and the hotel fare did not tempt him. And + when Judge Rawdon returned he welcomed him in the same generous spirit, + and the evening passed delightfully away. At its close, however, as Mostyn + stood gloved and hatted, and the carriage waited for him, he said a few + words to Judge Rawdon which changed the mental and social atmosphere. “I + wish to have a little talk with you, sir, on a business matter of some + importance. At what hour can I see you to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “I am engaged all day until three in the afternoon, Fred. Suppose I call + on you about four or half-past?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir.” + </p> + <p> + But both Ethel and Ruth wondered if it was “very well.” A shadow, fleeting + as thought, had passed over Judge Rawdon’s face when he heard the request + for a business interview, and after the young man’s departure he lost + himself in a reverie which was evidently not a happy one. But he said + nothing to the girls, and they were not accustomed to question him. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, instead of going direct to his office, he stopped at + Madam, his moth-er’s house in Gramercy Park. A visit at such an early hour + was unusual, and the old lady looked at him in alarm. + </p> + <p> + “We are well, mother,” he said as she rose. “I called to talk to you about + a little business.” Whereupon Madam sat down, and became suddenly about + twenty years younger, for “business” was a word like a watch-cry; she + called all her senses together when it was uttered in her presence. + </p> + <p> + “Business!” she ejaculated sharply. “Whose business?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I may say the business of the whole family.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, I am not in it. My business is just as I want it, and I am not going + to talk about it—one way or the other.” + </p> + <p> + “Is not Rawdon Court of some interest to you? It has been the home and + seat of the family for many centuries. A good many. Mostyn women have been + its mistress.” + </p> + <p> + “I never heard of any Mostyn woman who would not have been far happier + away from Rawdon Court. It was a Calvary to them all. There was little + Nannie Mostyn, who died with her first baby because Squire Anthony struck + her in a drunken passion; and the proud Alethia Mostyn, who suffered + twenty years’ martyrdom from Squire John; and Sara, who took thirty + thousand pounds to Squire Hubert, to fling away at the green table; and + Harriet, who was made by her husband, Squire Humphrey, to jump a fence + when out hunting with him, and was brought home crippled and scarred for + life—a lovely girl of twenty who went through agonies for eleven + years without aught of love and help, and died alone while he was + following a fox; and there was pretty Barbara Mostyn——” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, mother. I did not call here this morning to hear the Rawdons + abused, and you forget your own marriage. It was a happy one, I am sure. + One Rawdon, at least, must be excepted; and I think I treated my wife as a + good husband ought to treat a wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Not you! You treated Mary very badly.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, not even from you——” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll say it again. The little girl was dying for a year or more, and you + were so busy making money you never saw it. If she said or looked a little + complaint, you moved restless-like and told her ‘she moped too much.’ As + the end came I spoke to you, and you pooh-poohed all I said. She went + suddenly, I know, to most people, but she knew it was her last day, and + she longed so to see you, that I sent a servant to hurry you home, but she + died before you could make up your mind to leave your ‘cases.’ She and I + were alone when she whispered her last message for you—a loving one, + too.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother! Mother! Why recall that bitter day? I did not think—I swear + I did not think——” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind swearing. I was just reminding you that the Rawdons have not + been the finest specimens of good husbands. They make landlords, and + judges, and soldiers, and even loom-lords of a very respectable sort; but + husbands! Lord help their poor wives! So you see, as a Mostyn woman, I + have no special interest in Rawdon Court.” + </p> + <p> + “You would not like it to go out of the family?” + </p> + <p> + “I should not worry myself if it did.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you know Fred Mostyn has a mortgage on it that the present + Squire is unable to lift.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, Fred told me he had eighty thousand pounds on the old place. I told + him he was a fool to put his money on it.” + </p> + <p> + “One of the finest manors and manor-houses in England, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen it. I was born and brought up near enough to it, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Eighty thousand pounds is a bagatelle for the place; yet if Fred forces a + sale, it may go for that, or even less. I can’t bear to think of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not buy it yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “I would lift the mortgage to-morrow if I had the means. I have not at + present.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am in the same box. You have just spoken as if the Mostyns and + Rawdons had an equal interest in Rawdon Court. Very well, then, it cannot + be far wrong for Fred Mostyn to have it. Many a Mostyn has gone there as + wife and slave. I would dearly like to see one Mostyn go as master.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall get no help from you, then, I understand that.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m Mostyn by birth, I’m only Rawdon by, marriage. The birth-band ties me + fast to my family.” + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, mother. You have failed me for the first time in your + life.” + </p> + <p> + “If the money had been for you, Edward, or yours——” + </p> + <p> + “It is—good-by.” + </p> + <p> + She called him back peremptorily, and he returned and stood at the open + door. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you ask Ethel?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not think I had the right, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “More right to ask her than I. See what she says. She’s Rawdon, every inch + of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I may. Of course, I can sell securities, but it would be at a + sacrifice a great sacrifice at present.” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel has the cash; and, as I said, she is Rawdon—I’m not.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish my father were alive.” + </p> + <p> + “He wouldn’t move me—you needn’t think that. What I have said to you + I would have said to him. Speak to Ethel. I’ll be bound she’ll listen if + Rawdon calls her.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like to speak to Ethel.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t what you like to do, it’s what you find you’ll have to do, that + carries the day; and a good thing, too, considering.” + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, again. You are not quite yourself, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I didn’t sleep last night, so there’s no wonder if I’m a bit cross + this morning. But if I lose my temper, I keep my understanding.” + </p> + <p> + She was really cross by this time. Her son had put her in a position she + did not like to assume. No love for Rawdon Court was in her heart. She + would rather have advanced the money to buy an American estate. She had + been little pleased at Fred’s mortgage on the old place, but to the + American Rawdons she felt it would prove a white elephant; and the appeal + to Ethel was advised because she thought it would amount to nothing. In + the first place, the Judge had the strictest idea of the sacredness of the + charge committed to him as guardian of his daughter’s fortune. In the + second, Ethel inherited from her Yorkshire ancestry an intense sense of + the value and obligations of money. She was an ardent American, and not + likely to spend it on an old English manor; and, furthermore, Madam’s + penetration had discovered a growing dislike in her granddaughter for Fred + Mostyn. + </p> + <p> + “She’d never abide him for a lifelong neighbor,” the old lady decided. “It + is the Rawdon pride in her. The Rawdon men have condescended to go to + Mostyn for wives many and many a time, but never once have the Mostyn men + married a Rawdon girl—proud, set-up women, as far as I remember; and + Ethel has a way with her just like them. Fred is good enough and nice + enough for any girl, and I wonder what is the matter with him! It is a + week and more since he was here, and then he wasn’t a bit like himself.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the bell rang and she heard Fred’s voice inquiring “if + Madam was at home.” Instantly she divined the motive of his call. The + young man had come to the conclusion the Judge would try to influence his + mother, and before meeting him in the afternoon he wished to have some + idea of the trend matters were likely to take. His policy—cunning, + Madam called it—did not please her. She immediately assured herself + that “she wouldn’t go against her own flesh and blood for anyone,” and his + wan face and general air of wretchedness further antagonized her. She + asked him fretfully “what he had been doing to himself, for,” she added, + “it’s mainly what we do to ourselves that makes us sick. Was it that + everlasting wedding of the Denning girl?” + </p> + <p> + He flushed angrily, but answered with much of the same desire to annoy, “I + suppose it was. I felt it very much. Dora was the loveliest girl in the + city. There are none left like her.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be a good thing for New York if that is the case. I’m not one + that wants the city to myself, but I can spare Dora STANHOPE, and feel the + better for it.” + </p> + <p> + “The most beautiful of God’s creatures!” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve surely lost your sight or your judgment, Fred. She is just a + dusky-skinned girl, with big, brown eyes. You can pick her sort up by the + thousand in any large city. And a wandering-hearted, giddy creature, too, + that will spread as she goes, no doubt. I’m sorry for Basil Stanhope, he + didn’t deserve such a fate.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, he did not! It is beyond measure too good for him.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve always heard that affliction is the surest way to heaven. Dora will + lead him that road, and it will be more sure than pleasant. Poor fellow! + He’ll soon be as ready to curse his wedding-day as Job was to curse his + birthday. A costly wife she will be to keep, and misery in the keeping of + her. But if you came to talk to me about Dora STANHOPE, I’ll cease + talking, for I don’t find it any great entertainment.” + </p> + <p> + “I came to talk to you about Squire Rawdon.” + </p> + <p> + “What about the Squire? Keep it in your mind that he and I were + sweethearts when we were children. I haven’t forgotten that fact.” + </p> + <p> + “You know Rawdon Court is mortgaged to me?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve heard you say so—more than once.” + </p> + <p> + “I intend to foreclose the mortgage in September. I find that I can get + twice yes, three times—the interest for my money in American + securities.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know they are securities?” + </p> + <p> + “Bryce Denning has put me up to several good things.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you think good things can come that road, you are a bigger fool + than I ever thought you.” + </p> + <p> + “Fool! Madam, I allow no one to call me a fool, especially without + reason.” + </p> + <p> + “Reason, indeed! What reason was there in your dillydallying after Dora + Denning when she was engaged, and then making yourself like a ghost for + her after she is married? As for the good things Bryce Denning offers you + in exchange for a grand English manor, take them, and then if I called you + not fool before, I will call you fool in your teeth twice over, and much + too good for you! Aye, I could call you a worse name when I think of the + old Squire—he’s two years older than I am—being turned out of + his lifelong home. Where is he to go to?” + </p> + <p> + “If I buy the place, for of course it will have to be sold, he is welcome + to remain at Rawdon Court.” + </p> + <p> + “And he would deserve to do it if he were that low-minded; but if I know + Squire Percival, he will go to the poor-house first. Fred, you would + surely scorn such a dirty thing as selling the old man out of house and + home?” + </p> + <p> + “I want my money, or else I want Rawdon Manor.” + </p> + <p> + “And I have no objections either to your wanting it or having it, but, for + goodness’ sake, wait until death gives you a decent warrant for buying + it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid to delay. The Squire has been very cool with me lately, and + my agent tells me the Tyrrel-Rawdons have been visiting him, also that he + has asked a great many questions about the Judge and Ethel. He is + evidently trying to prevent me getting possession, and I know that old + Nicholas Rawdon would give his eyelids to own Rawdon Court. As to the + Judge——” + </p> + <p> + “My son wants none of it. You can make your mind easy on that score.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I behaved very decently, though, of course, no one gives me + credit for it; for as soon as I saw I must foreclose in order to get my + own I thought at once of Ethel. It seemed to me that if we could love each + other the money claims of Mostyn and the inherited claims of Rawdon would + both be satisfied. Unfortunately, I found that I could not love Ethel as a + wife should be loved.” + </p> + <p> + “And I can tell you, Fred, that Ethel never could have loved you as a + husband should be loved. She was a good deal disappointed in you from the + very first.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought I made a favorable impression on her.” + </p> + <p> + “In a way. She said you played the piano nicely; but Ethel is all for + handsome men, tall, erect six-footers, with a little swing and swagger to + them. She thought you small and finicky. But Ethel’s rich enough to have + her fancy, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “It is little matter now what she thought. I can’t please every one.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it’s rather harder to do that than most people think it is. I would + please my conscience first of all, Fred. That’s the point worth + mentioning. And I shall just remind you of one thing more: your money all + in a lump on Rawdon Manor is safe. It is in one place, and in such shape + as it can’t run away nor be smuggled away by any man’s trickery. Now, + then, turn your eighty thousand pounds into dollars, and divide them among + a score of securities, and you’ll soon find out that a fortune may be + easily squandered when it is in a great many hands, and that what looks + satisfactory enough when reckoned up on paper doesn’t often realize in + hard money to the same tune. I’ve said all now I am going to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for the advice given me. I will take it as far as I can. This + afternoon the Judge has promised to talk over the business with me.” + </p> + <p> + “The Judge never saw Rawdon Court, and he cares nothing about it, but he + can give you counsel about the ‘good things’ Bryce Denning offers you. And + you may safely listen to it, for, right or wrong, I see plainly it is your + own advice you will take in the long run.” + </p> + <p> + Mostyn laughed pleasantly and went back to his hotel to think over the + facts gleaned from his conversation with Madam. In the first place, he + understood that any overt act against Squire Rawdon would be deeply + resented by his American relatives. But then he reminded himself that his + own relationship with them was merely sentiment. He had now nothing to + hope for in the way of money. Madam’s apparently spontaneous and truthful + assertion, that the Judge cared nothing for Rawdon Court, was, however, + very satisfactory to him. He had been foolish enough to think that the + thing he desired so passionately was of equal value in the estimation of + others. He saw now that he was wrong, and he then remembered that he had + never found Judge Rawdon to evince either interest or curiosity about the + family home. + </p> + <p> + If he had been a keen observer, the Judge’s face when he called might have + given his comfortable feelings some pause. It was contracted, subtle, + intricate, but he came forward with a congratulation on Mostyn’s improved + appearance. “A few weeks at the seaside would do you good,” he added, and + Mostyn answered, “I think of going to Newport for a month.” + </p> + <p> + “And then?” + </p> + <p> + “I want your opinion about that. McLean advises me to see the country—to + go to Chicago, St. Louis, Denver, cross the Rockies, and on to California. + It seems as if that would be a grand summer programme. But my lawyer + writes me that the man in charge at Mostyn is cutting too much timber and + is generally too extravagant. Then there is the question of Rawdon Court. + My finances will not let me carry the mortgage on it longer, unless I buy + the place.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you thinking of that as probable?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It will have to be sold. And Mostyn seems to be the natural owner + after Rawdon. The Mostyns have married Rawdons so frequently that we are + almost like one family, and Rawdon Court lies, as it were, at Mostyn’s + gate. The Squire is now old, and too easily persuaded for his own welfare, + and I hear the Tyrrel-Rawdons have been visiting him. Such a thing would + have been incredible a few years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are the Tyrrel-Rawdons? I have no acquaintance with them.” + </p> + <p> + “They are the descendants of that Tyrrel-Rawdon who a century ago married + a handsome girl who was only an innkeeper’s daughter. He was of course + disowned and disinherited, and his children sank to the lowest social + grade. Then when power-loom weaving was introduced they went to the mills, + and one of them was clever and saved money and built a little mill of his + own, and his son built a much larger one, and made a great deal of money, + and became Mayor of Leeds. The next generation saw the Tyrrel-Rawdons the + largest loom-lords in Yorkshire. One of the youngest generation was my + opponent in the last election and beat me—a Radical fellow beats the + Conservative candidate always where weavers and spinners hold the vote but + I thought it my duty to uphold the Mostyn banner. You know the Mostyns + have always been Tories and Conservatives.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, but I am afraid I am ignorant concerning Mostyn politics. I + take little interest in the English parties.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally. Well, I hope you will take an interest in my affairs and give + me your advice about the sale of Rawdon Court.” + </p> + <p> + “I think my advice would be useless. In the first place, I never saw the + Court. My father had an old picture of it, which has somehow disappeared + since his death, but I cannot say that even this picture interested me at + all. You know I am an American, born on the soil, and very proud of it. + Then, as you are acquainted with all the ins and outs of the difficulties + and embarrassments, and I know nothing at all about them, you would hardly + be foolish enough to take my opinion against your own. I suppose the + Squire is in favor of your buying the Court?” + </p> + <p> + “I never named the subject to him. I thought perhaps he might have written + to you on the matter. You are the last male of the house in that line.” + </p> + <p> + “He has never written to me about the Court. Then, I am not the last male. + From what you say, I think the Tyrrel-Rawdons could easily supply an heir + to Rawdon.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the thing to be avoided. It would be a great offense to the + county families.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should they be considered? A Rawdon is always a Rawdon.” + </p> + <p> + “But a cotton spinner, sir! A mere mill-owner!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I do not feel with you and the other county people in that respect. + I think a cotton spinner, giving bread to a thousand families, is a vastly + more respectable and important man than a fox-hunting, idle landlord. A + mill-owning Rawdon might do a deal of good in the sleepy old village of + Monk-Rawdon.” + </p> + <p> + “Your sentiments are American, not English, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “As I told you, we look at things from very different standpoints.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you feel inclined to lift the mortgage yourself, Judge?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not the power, even if I had the inclination to do so. My money is + well invested, and I could not, at this time, turn bonds and securities + into cash without making a sacrifice not to be contemplated. I confess, + however, that if the Court has to be sold, I should like the + Tyrrel-Rawdons to buy it. I dare say the picture of the offending youth is + still in the gallery, and I have heard my mother say that what is + another’s always yearns for its lord. Driven from his heritage for Love’s + sake, it would be at least interesting if Gold gave back to his children + what Love lost them.” + </p> + <p> + “That is pure sentiment. Surely it would be more natural that the Mostyns + should succeed the Rawdons. We have, as it were, bought the right with at + least a dozen intermarriages.” + </p> + <p> + “That also is pure sentiment. Gold at last will carry the succession.” + </p> + <p> + “But not your gold, I infer?” + </p> + <p> + “Not my gold; certainly not.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for your decisive words They make my course clear.” + </p> + <p> + “That is well. As to your summer movements, I am equally unable to give + you advice. I think you need the sea for a month, and after that McLean’s + scheme is good. And a return to Mostyn to look after your affairs is + equally good. If I were you, I should follow my inclinations. If you put + your heart into anything, it is well done and enjoyed; if you do a thing + because you think you ought to do it, failure and disappointment are often + the results. So do as you want to do; it is the only advice I can offer + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir. It is very acceptable. I may leave for Newport to-morrow. + I shall call on the ladies in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell them, but it is just possible that they, too, go to the + country to-morrow, to look after a little cottage on the Hudson we occupy + in the summer. Good-by, and I hope you will soon recover your usual + health.” + </p> + <p> + Then the Judge lifted his hat, and with a courteous movement left the + room. His face had the same suave urbanity of expression, but he could + hardly restrain the passion in his heart. Placid as he looked when he + entered his house, he threw off all pretenses as soon as he reached his + room. The Yorkshire spirit which Ethel had declared found him out once in + three hundred and sixty-four days and twenty-three hours was then in full + pos-session. The American Judge had disappeared. He looked as like his + ancestors as anything outside of a painted picture could do. His flushed + face, his flashing eyes, his passionate exclamations, the stamp of his + foot, the blow of his hand, the threatening attitude of his whole figure + was but a replica of his great-grandfather, Anthony Rawdon, giving + Radicals at the hustings or careless keepers at the kennels “a bit of his + mind.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Mostyn, seems to be the natural owner of Rawdon! Rawdon Court lies at + Mostyn’s gate! Natural that the Mostyns should succeed the Rawdons! Bought + the right by a dozen intermarriages!’ Confound the impudent rascal! Does + he think I will see Squire Rawdon rogued out of his home? Not if I can + help it! Not if Ethel can help it! Not if heaven and earth can help it! + He’s a downright rascal! A cool, unruffled, impudent rascal!” And these + ejaculations were followed by a bitter, biting, blasting hailstorm of such + epithets as could only be written with one letter and a dash. + </p> + <p> + But the passion of imprecation cooled and satisfied his anger in this its + first impetuous outbreak, and he sat down, clasped the arms of his chair, + and gave himself a peremptory order of control. In a short time he rose, + bathed his head and face in cold water, and began to dress for dinner. And + as he stood before the glass he smiled at the restored color and calm of + his countenance. + </p> + <p> + “You are a prudent lawyer,” he said sarcastically. “How many actionable + words have you just uttered! If the devil and Fred Mostyn have been + listening, they can, as mother says, ‘get the law on you’; but I think + Ethel and I and the law will be a match even for the devil and Fred + Mostyn.” Then, as he slowly went downstairs, he repeated to himself, + “Mostyn seems to be the natural owner of Rawdon. No, sir, neither natural + nor legal owner. Rawdon Court lies at Mostyn gate. Not yet. Mostyn lies at + Rawdon gate. Natural that the Mostyns should succeed the Rawdons. Power of + God! Neither in this generation nor the next.” + </p> + <p> + And at the same moment Mostyn, having thought over his interview with + Judge Rawdon, walked thoughtfully to a window and muttered to himself: + “Whatever was the matter with the old man? Polite as a courtier, but + something was wrong. The room felt as if there was an iceberg in it, and + he kept his right hand in his pocket. I be-lieve he was afraid I would + shake hands with him—it is Ethel, I suppose. Naturally he is + disappointed. Wanted her at Rawdon. Well, it is a pity, but I really + cannot! Oh, Dora! Dora! My heart, my hungry and thirsty heart calls you! + Burning with love, dying with longing, I am waiting for you!” + </p> + <p> + The dinner passed pleasantly enough, but both Ethel and Ruth noticed the + Judge was under strong but well-controlled feeling. While servants were + present it passed for high spirits, but as soon as the three were alone in + the library, the excitement took at once a serious aspect. + </p> + <p> + “My dears,” he said, standing up and facing them, “I have had a very + painful interview with Fred Mostyn. He holds a mortgage over Rawdon Court, + and is going to press it in September—that is, he proposes to sell + the place in order to obtain his money—and the poor Squire!” He + ceased speaking, walked across the room and back again, and appeared + greatly disturbed. + </p> + <p> + “What of the Squire?” asked Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “God knows, Ruth. He has no other home.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is this thing to be done? Is there no way to prevent it?” + </p> + <p> + “Mostyn wants the money, he says, to invest in American securities. He + does not. He wants to force a sale, so that he may buy the place for the + mortgage, and then either keep it for his pride, or more likely resell it + to the Tyrrel-Rawdons for double the money.” Then with gradually + increasing passion he repeated in a low, intense voice the remarks which + Mostyn had made, and which had so infuriated the Judge. Before he had + finished speaking the two women had caught his temper and spirit. Ethel’s + face was white with anger, her eyes flashing, her whole attitude full of + fight. Ruth was troubled and sorrowful, and she looked anxiously at the + Judge for some solution of the condition. It was Ethel who voiced the + anxiety. “Father,” she asked, “what is to be done? What can you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, I am sorry to say, Ethel. My money is absolutely tied up—for + this year, at any rate. I cannot touch it without wronging others as well + as myself, nor yet without the most ruinous sacrifice.” + </p> + <p> + “If I could do anything, I would not care at what sacrifice.” + </p> + <p> + “You can do all that is necessary, Ethel, and you are the only person who + can. You have at least eight hundred thousand dollars in cash and + negotiable securities. Your mother’s fortune is all yours, with its + legitimate accruements, and it was left at your own disposal after your + twenty-first birthday. It has been at your own disposal WITH MY CONSENT + since your nineteenth birthday.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, father, we need not trouble about the Squire. I wish with all my + heart to make his home sure to him as long as he lives. You are a lawyer, + you know what ought to be done.” + </p> + <p> + “Good girl! I knew what you would say and do, or I should not have told + you the trouble there was at Rawdon. Now, I propose we all make a visit to + Rawdon Court, see the Squire and the property, and while there perfect + such arrangements as seem kindest and wisest. Ruth, how soon can we be + ready to sail?” + </p> + <p> + “Father, do you really mean that we are to go to England?” + </p> + <p> + “It is the only thing to do. I must see that all is as Mostyn says. I must + not let you throw your money away.” + </p> + <p> + “That is only prudent,” said Ruth, “and we can be ready for the first + steamer if you wish it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am delighted, father. I long to see England; more than all, I long to + see Rawdon. I did not know until this moment how much I loved it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I will have all ready for us to sail next Saturday. Say + nothing about it to Mostyn. He will call to-morrow morning to bid you + good-by before leaving for Newport with McLean. Try and be out.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall certainly be out,” said Ethel. “I do not wish ever to see his + face again, and I must see grandmother and tell her what we are going to + do.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say she guesses already. She advised me to ask you about the + mortgage. She knew what you would say.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, who are the Tyrrel-Rawdons?” + </p> + <p> + Then the Judge told the story of the young Tyrrel-Rawdon, who a century + ago had lost his world for Love, and Ethel said “she liked him better than + any Rawdon she had ever heard of.” + </p> + <p> + “Except your father, Ethel.” + </p> + <p> + “Except my father; my dear, good father. And I am glad that Love did not + always make them poor. They must now be rich, if they want to buy the + Court.” + </p> + <p> + “They are rich manufacturers. Mostyn is much annoyed that the Squire has + begun to notice them. He says one of the grandsons of the Tyrrel-Rawdons, + disinherited for love’s sake, came to America some time in the forties. I + asked your grandmother if this story was true. She said it is quite true; + that my father was his friend in the matter, and that it was his reports + about America which made them decide to try their fortune in New York.” + </p> + <p> + “Does she know what became of him?” + </p> + <p> + “No. In his last letter to them he said he had just joined a party going + to the gold fields of California. That was in 1850. He never wrote again. + It is likely he perished on the terrible journey across the plains. Many + thousands did.” + </p> + <p> + “When I am in England I intend to call upon these Tyrrel-Rawdons. I think + I shall like them. My heart goes out to them. I am proud of this bit of + romance in the family.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there is plenty of romance behind you, Ethel. When you see the old + Squire standing at the entrance to the Manor House, you may see the hags + of Cressy and Agincourt, of Marston and Worcester behind him. And the + Rawdon women have frequently been daughters of Destiny. Many of them have + lived romances that would be incredible if written down. Oh, Ethel, dear, + we cannot, we cannot for our lives, let the old home fall into the hands + of strangers. At any rate, if on inspection we think it wrong to + interfere, I can at least try and get the children of the disinherited + Tyrrel back to their home. Shall we leave it at this point for the + present?” + </p> + <p> + This decision was agreeable to all, and then the few preparations + necessary for the journey were talked over, and in this happy discussion + the evening passed rapidly. The dream of Ethel’s life had been this visit + to the home of her family, and to go as its savior was a consummation of + the pleasure that filled her with loving pride. She could not sleep for + her waking dreams. She made all sorts of resolutions about the despised + Tyrrel-Rawdons. She intended to show the proud, indolent world of the + English land-aristocracy that Americans, just as well born as themselves, + respected business energy and enterprise; and she had other plans and + propositions just as interesting and as full of youth’s impossible + enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + In the morning she went to talk the subject over with her grandmother. The + old lady received the news with affected indifference. She said, “It + mattered nothing to her who sat in Rawdon’s seat; but she would not hear + Mostyn blamed for seeking his right. Money and sentiment are no kin,” she + added, “and Fred has no sentiment about Rawdon. Why should he? Only last + summer Rawdon kept him out of Parliament, and made him spend a lot of + money beside. He’s right to get even with the family if he can.” + </p> + <p> + “But the old Squire! He is now——” + </p> + <p> + “I know; he’s older than I am. But Squire Percival has had his day, and + Fred would not do anything out of the way to him—he could not; the + county would make both Mostyn and Rawdon very uncomfortable places to live + in, if he did.” + </p> + <p> + “If you turn a man out of his home when he is eighty years old, I think + that is ‘out of the way.’ And Mr. Mostyn is not to be trusted. I wouldn’t + trust him as far as I could see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Highty-tighty! He has not asked you to trust him. You lost your chance + there, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “Grandmother, I am astonished at you!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it was a mean thing to say, Ethel; but I like Fred, and I see the + rest of my family are against him. It’s natural for Yorkshire to help the + weakest side. But there, Fred can do his own fighting, I’ll warrant. He’s + not an ordinary man.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sorry to say he isn’t, grandmother. If he were he would speak without + a drawl, and get rid of his monocle, and not pay such minute attention to + his coats and vests and walking sticks.” + </p> + <p> + Then Ethel proceeded to explain her resolves with regard to the + Tyrrel-Rawdons. “I shall pay them the greatest attention,” she said. “It + was a noble thing in young Tyrrel-Rawdon to give up everything for + honorable love, and I think everyone ought to have stood by him.” + </p> + <p> + “That wouldn’t have done at all. If Tyrrel had been petted as you think he + ought to have been, every respectable young man and woman in the county + would have married where their fancy led them; and the fancies of young + people mostly lead them to the road it is ruin to take.” + </p> + <p> + “From what Fred Mostyn says, Tyrrel’s descendants seem to have taken a + very respectable road.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve nothing to say for or against them. It’s years and years since I + laid eyes on any of the family. Your grandfather helped one of the young + men to come to America, and I remember his mother getting into a passion + about it. She was a fat woman in a Paisley shawl and a love-bird on her + bonnet. I saw his sister often. She weighed about twelve stone, and had + red hair and red cheeks and bare red elbows. She was called a ‘strapping + lass.’ That is quite a complimentary term in the West Riding.” + </p> + <p> + “Please, grandmother, I don’t want to hear any more. In two weeks I shall + be able to judge for myself. Since then there have been two generations, + and if a member of the present one is fit for Parliament——” + </p> + <p> + “That’s nothing. We needn’t look for anything specially refined in + Parliament in these days. There’s another thing. These Tyrrel-Rawdons are + chapel people. The rector of Rawdon church would not marry Tyrrel to his + low-born love, and so they went to the Methodist preacher, and after that + to the Methodist chapel. That put them down, more than you can imagine + here in America.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a shame! Methodists are most respectable people.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m saying nothing contrary.” + </p> + <p> + “The President is a Methodist.” + </p> + <p> + “I never asked what he was. I am a Church of England woman, you know that. + Born and bred in the Church, baptized, confirmed, and married in the + Church, and I was always taught it was the only proper Church for + gentlemen and gentlewomen to be saved in. However, English Methodists + often go back to the Church when they get rich.” + </p> + <p> + “Church or chapel makes no difference to me, grandmother. If people are + only good.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure; but you won’t be long in England until you’ll find out that + some things make a great deal of difference. Do you know your father was + here this morning? He wanted me to go with you—a likely, thing.” + </p> + <p> + “But, grandmother, do come. We will take such good care of you, and——” + </p> + <p> + “I know, but I’d rather keep my old memories of Yorkshire than get + new-fashioned ones. All is changed. I can tell that by what Fred says. My + three great friends are dead. They have left children and grandchildren, + of course, but I don’t want to make new acquaintances at my age, unless I + have the picking of them. No, I shall get Miss Hillis to go with me to my + little cabin on the Jersey coast. We’ll take our knitting and the fresh + novels, and I’ll warrant we’ll see as much of the new men and women in + them as will more than satisfy us. But you must write me long letters, and + tell me everything about the Squire and the way he keeps house, and I + don’t care if you fill up the paper with the Tyrrel-Rawdons.” + </p> + <p> + “I will write you often, Granny, and tell you everything.” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn’t wonder if you come across Dora Stanhope, but I wouldn’t ask + her to Rawdon. She’ll mix some cup of bother if you do.” + </p> + <p> + “I know.” + </p> + <p> + In such loving and intimate conversation the hours sped quickly, and Ethel + could not bear to cut short her visit. It was nearly five when she left + Gramercy Park, but the day being lovely, and the avenue full of carriages + and pedestrians, she took the drive at its enforced tardiness without + disapproval. Almost on entering the avenue from Madison Square there was a + crush, and her carriage came to a standstill. She was then opposite the + store of a famous English saddler, and near her was an open carriage + occupied by a middle-aged gentleman in military uniform. He appeared to be + waiting for someone, and in a moment or two a young man came out of the + saddlery store, and with a pleasant laugh entered the carriage. It was the + Apollo of her dreams, the singer of the Holland House pavement. She could + not doubt it. His face, his figure, his walk, and the pleasant smile with + which he spoke to his companion were all positive characteristics. She had + forgotten none of them. His dress was altered to suit the season, but that + was an improvement; for divested of his heavy coat, and clothed only in a + stylish afternoon suit, his tall, fine figure showed to great advantage; + and Ethel told herself that he was even handsomer than she had supposed + him to be. + </p> + <p> + Almost as soon as he entered his carriage there was a movement, and she + hoped her driver might advance sufficiently to make recognition possible, + but some feeling, she knew not what, prevented her giving any order + leading to this result. Perhaps she had an instinctive presentiment that + it was best to leave all to Destiny. Toward the upper part of the avenue + the carriage of her eager observation came to a stand before a warehouse + of antique furniture and bric-a-brac, and, as it did so, a beautiful woman + ran down the steps, and Apollo, for so Ethel had men-tally called him, + went hurriedly to meet her. Finally her coachman passed the party, and + there was a momentary recognition. He was bending forward, listening to + something the lady was saying, when the vehicles almost touched each + other. He flashed a glance at them, and met the flash of Ethel’s eyes full + of interest and curiosity. + </p> + <p> + It was over in a moment, but in that moment Ethel saw his astonishment and + delight, and felt her own eager questioning answered. Then she was joyous + and full of hope, for “these two silent meetings are promises,” she said + to Ruth. “I feel sure I shall see him again, and then we shall speak to + each other.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you are not allowing yourself to feel too much interest in this + man, Ethel; he is very likely married.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! I am sure he is not, Ruth.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you be sure? You know nothing about him.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell HOW I know, nor WHY I know, but I believe what I feel; and + he is as much interested in me as I am in him. I confess that is a great + deal.” + </p> + <p> + “You may never see him again.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall expect to see him next winter, he evidently lives in New York.” + </p> + <p> + “The lady you saw may be his wife. Don’t be interested in any man on + unknown ground, Ethel. It is not prudent—it is not right.” + </p> + <p> + “Time will show. He will very likely be looking for me this summer at + Newport and elsewhere. He will be glad to see me when I come home. Don’t + worry, Ruth. It is all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Fred called soon after you went out this morning. He left for Newport + this afternoon. He will be at sea now.” + </p> + <p> + “And we shall be there in a few days. When I am at the seaside I always + feel a delicious torpor; yet Nelly Baldwin told me she loved an Atlantic + passage because she had such fun on board. You have crossed several times, + Ruth; is it fun or torpor?” + </p> + <p> + “All mirth at sea soon fades away, Ethel. Passengers are a very dull class + of people, and they know it; they rebel against it, but every hour it + becomes more natural to be dull. Very soon all mentally accommodate + themselves to being bored, dreamy and dreary. Then, as soon as it is dark, + comes that old mysterious, hungering sound of the sea; and I for one + listen till I can bear it no longer, and so steal away to bed with a pain + in my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I shall like the ocean. There are games, and books, and company, + and dinners, and other things.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, and you can think yourself happy, until gradually a contented + cretinism steals over you, body and mind.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” said Ethel enthusiastically. “I shall do according to Swinburne— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Have therefore in my heart, and in my mouth, + The sound of song that mingles North and South; + And in my Soul the sense of all the Sea!’” + </pre> + <p> + And Ruth laughed at her dramatic attitude, and answered: “The soul of all + the sea is a contented cretinism, Ethel. But in ten days we may be in + Yorkshire. And then, my dear, you may meet your Prince—some fine + Yorkshire gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “I have strictly and positively promised myself that my Prince shall be a + fine American gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Ethel, it is very seldom + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘the time, and the place, + And the Loved One, come together.’” + </pre> + <p> + “I live in the land of good hope, Ruth, and my hopes will be realized.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall see.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART3" id="link2H_PART3"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART THIRD — “I WENT DOWN INTO THE GARDEN TO SEE IF THE POMEGRANATES + BUDDED.” + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + —Song of Solomon, VI. 11. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + IT was a lovely afternoon on the last day of May. The sea and all the toil + and travail belonging to it was overpass, and Judge Rawdon, Ruth and Ethel + were driving in lazy, blissful contentment through one of the lovely roads + of the West Riding. On either hand the beautifully cut hedges were white + and sweet, and a caress of scent—the soul of the hawthorne flower + enfolded them. Robins were singing on the topmost sprays, and the linnet’s + sweet babbling was heard from the happy nests in its secret places; while + from some unseen steeple the joyful sound of chiming bells made music + between heaven and earth fit for bands of traveling angels. + </p> + <p> + They had dined at a wayside inn on jugged hare, roast beef, and Yorkshire + pudding, clotted cream and haver (oaten) bread, and the careless stillness + of physical well-being and of minds at ease needed no speech, but the + mutual smiling nod of intimate sympathy. For the sense of joy and beauty + which makes us eloquent is far inferior to that sense which makes us + silent. + </p> + <p> + This exquisite pause in life was suddenly ended by an exclamation from the + Judge. They were at the great iron gates of Rawdon Park, and soon were + slowly traversing its woody solitudes. The soft light, the unspeakable + green of the turf, the voice of ancient days murmuring in the great oak + trees, the deer asleep among the ferns, the stillness of the summer + afternoon filling the air with drowsy peace this was the atmosphere into + which they entered. Their road through this grand park of three hundred + acres was a wide, straight avenue shaded with beech trees. The green turf + on either hand was starred with primroses. In the deep undergrowth, ferns + waved and fanned each other, and the scent of hidden violets saluted as + they passed. Drowsily, as if half asleep, the blackbirds whistled their + couplets, and in the thickest hedges the little brown thrushes sang softly + to their brooding mates. For half an hour they kept this heavenly path, + and then a sudden turn brought them their first sight of the old home. + </p> + <p> + It was a stately, irregular building of red brick, sandaled and veiled in + ivy. The numerous windows were all latticed, the chimneys in picturesque + stacks, the sloping roof made of flags of sandstone. It stood in the + center of a large garden, at the bottom of which ran a babbling little + river—a cheerful tongue of life in the sweet, silent place. They + crossed it by a pretty bridge, and in a few minutes stood at the great + door of the mansion. It was wide open, and the Squire, with outstretched + hands, rose to meet them. While yet upon the threshold he kissed both + Ethel and Ruth, and, clasping the Judge’s hand, gazed at him with such a + piercing, kindly look that the eyes of both men filled with tears. + </p> + <p> + He led them into the hall, and standing there he seemed almost a part of + it. In his youth he had been a son of Anak, and his great size had been + matched by his great strength. His stature was still large, his face broad + and massive, and an abundance of snow-white hair emphasized the dignity of + a countenance which age had made nobler. The generations of eight hundred + years were crystallized in this benignant old man, looking with such eager + interest into the faces of his strange kindred from a far-off land. + </p> + <p> + In the evening they sat together in the old hall talking of the Rawdons. + “There is great family of us, living and dead,” said the Squire, “and I + count them all my friends. Bare is the back that has no kin behind it. + That is not our case. Eight hundred years ago there was a Rawdon in + Rawdon, and one has never been wanting since. Saxon, Danish, Norman, and + Stuart kings have been and gone their way, and we remain; and I can tell + you every Rawdon born since the House of Hanover came to England. We have + had our share in all England’s strife and glory, for if there was ever a + fight going on anywhere Rawdon was never far off. Yes, we can string the + centuries together in the battle flags we have won. See there!” he cried, + pointing to two standards interwoven above the central chimney-piece; “one + was taken from the Paynim in the first Crusade, and the other my grandson + took in Africa. It seems but yesterday, and Queen Victoria gave him the + Cross for it. Poor lad, he had it on when he died. It went to the grave + with him. I wouldn’t have it touched. I fancy the Rawdons would know it. + No one dare say they don’t. I think they meddle a good deal more with this + life than we count on.” + </p> + <p> + The days that followed were days in The House Wonderful. It held the + treasure-trove of centuries; all its rooms were full of secrets. Even the + common sitting-room had an antique homeliness that provoked questions as + to the dates of its furniture and the whereabouts of its wall cupboards + and hidden recesses. Its china had the marks of forgotten makers, its + silver was puzzling with half-obliterated names and dates, its sideboard + of oak was black with age and full of table accessories, the very names of + which were forgotten. For this house had not been built in the ordinary + sense, it had grown through centuries; grown out of desire and necessity, + just as a tree grows, and was therefore fit and beautiful. And it was no + wonder that about every room floated the perfume of ancient things and the + peculiar family aura that had saturated all the inanimate objects around + them. + </p> + <p> + In a few days, life settled itself to orderly occupations. The Squire was + a late riser; the Judge and his family breakfasted very early. Then the + two women had a ride in the park, or wandered in the garden, or sat + reading, or sewing, or writing in some of the sweet, fair rooms. Many + visitors soon appeared, and there were calls to return and courtesies to + accept. Among these visitors the Tyrrel-Rawdons were the earliest. The + representatives of that family were Nicholas Rawdon and his wife Lydia. + Nicholas Rawdon was a large, stout man, very arrogant, very complete, very + alert for this world, and not caring much about the other. He was not + pleased at Judge Rawdon’s visit, but thought it best to be cousinly until + his cousin interfered with his plans—“rights” he called them—“and + then!” and his “THEN” implied a great deal, for Nicholas Rawdon was a man + incapable of conceiving the idea of loving an enemy. + </p> + <p> + His wife was a pleasant, garrulous woman, who interested Ethel very much. + Her family was her chief topic of conversation. She had two daughters, one + of whom had married a baronet, “a man with money and easy to manage”; and + the other, “a rich cotton lord in Manchester.” + </p> + <p> + “They haven’t done badly,” she said confidentially, “and it’s a great + thing to get girls off your hands early. Adelaide and Martha were well + educated and suitable, but,” she added with a glow of pride, “you should + see my John Thomas. He’s manager of the mill, and he loves the mill, and + he knows every pound of warp or weft that comes in or goes out of the + mill; and what his father would do without him, I’m sure I don’t know. And + he is a member of Parliament, too—Radical ticket. Won over Mostyn. + Wiped Mostyn out pretty well. That was a thing to do, wasn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose Mr. Mostyn was the Conservative candidate?” + </p> + <p> + “You may be sure of that. But my John Thomas doesn’t blame him for it—the + gentry have to be Conservatives. John Thomas said little against his + politics; he just set the crowd laughing at his ways—his dandified + ways. And he tried to wear one eyeglass, and let it fall, and fall, and + then told the men ‘he couldn’t manage half a pair of spectacles; but he + could manage their interests and fight for their rights,’ and such like + talk. And he walked like Mostyn, and he talked like Mostyn, and spread out + his legs, and twirled his walking stick like Mostyn, and asked them ‘if + they would wish him to go to Parliament in that kind of a shape, as he’d + try and do it if they wanted a tailor-made man’; and they laughed him + down, and then he spoke reasonable to them. John Thomas knows what + Yorkshire weavers want, and he just prom-ised them everything they had set + their hearts on; and so they sent him to Parliament, and Mostyn went to + America, where, perhaps, they’ll teach him that a man’s life is worth a + bit more than a bird or a rabbit. Mostyn is all for preserving game, and + his father was a mean creature. When one thinks of his father, one has to + excuse the young man a little bit.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw a good deal of Mr. Mostyn in New York,” said Ethel. “He used to + speak highly of his father.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll warrant he did; and he ought to keep at it, for he’s the only one in + this world that will use his tongue for that end. Old Samuel Mostyn never + learned to live godly or even manly, but after his death he ceased to do + evil, and that, I’ve no doubt, often feels like a blessing to them that + had to live anyway near to him. But my John Thomas!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” cried Ethel, laughing, “you must not tell me so much about John + Thomas; he might not like it.” + </p> + <p> + “John Thomas can look all he does and all he says straight in the face. + You may talk of him all day, and find nothing to say that a good girl like + you might not listen to. I should have brought him with us, but he’s away + now taking a bit of a holiday. I’m sure he needs it.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he taking his holiday?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he went with a cousin to show him the sights of London; but somehow + they got through London sights very quick, and thought they might as well + put Paris in. I wish they hadn’t. I don’t trust foreigners and foreign + ways, and they don’t have the same kind of money as ours; but Nicholas + says I needn’t worry; he is sure that our John Thomas, if change is to + make, will make it to suit himself.” + </p> + <p> + “How soon will he be home?” + </p> + <p> + “I might say to-day or any other early day. He’s been idling for a month + now, and his father says ‘the very looms are calling out for him.’ I’ll + bring him to see you just as soon as he comes home, looms or no looms, and + he’ll be fain to come. No one appreciates a pretty girl more than John + Thomas does.” + </p> + <p> + So the days passed sweetly and swiftly onward, and there was no trouble in + them. Such business as was to be done went on behind the closed doors of + the Squire’s office, and with no one present but himself, Judge Rawdon, + and the attorneys attached to the Rawdon and Mostyn estates. And as there + were no entanglements and no possible reason for disputing, a settlement + was quickly arrived at. Then, as Mostyn’s return was uncertain, an + attorney’s messenger, properly accredited, was sent to America to procure + his signatures. Allowing for unforeseen delays, the perfected papers of + release might certainly be on hand by the fifteenth of July, and it was + proposed on the first of August to give a dinner and dance in return for + the numerous courtesies the American Rawdons had received. + </p> + <p> + As this date approached Ruth and Ethel began to think of a visit to + London. They wanted new gowns and many other pretty things, and why not go + to London for them? The journey was but a few hours, and two or three + days’ shopping in Regent Street and Piccadilly would be delightful. “We + will make out a list of all we need this afternoon,” said Ruth, “and we + might as well go to-morrow morning as later,” and at this moment a servant + entered with the mail. Ethel lifted her letter with an exclamation. “It is + from Dora,” she said, and her voice had a tone of annoyance in it. “Dora + is in London, at the Savoy. She wants to see me very much.” + </p> + <p> + “I am so sorry. We have been so happy.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think she will interfere much, Ruth.” + </p> + <p> + “My dears,” said Judge Rawdon, “I have a letter from Fred Mostyn. He is + coming home. He will be in London in a day or two.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is he coming, father?” + </p> + <p> + “He says he has a proposal to make about the Manor. I wish he were not + coming. No one wants his proposal.” Then the breakfast-table, which had + been so gay, became silent and depressed, and presently the Judge went + away without exhibiting further interest in the London journey. + </p> + <p> + “I do wish Dora would let us alone,” said Ruth. “She always brings + disappointment or worry of some kind. And I wonder what is the meaning of + this unexpected London visit. I thought she was in Holland.” + </p> + <p> + “She said in her last letter that London would be impossible before + August.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it an appointment—or a coincidence?” + </p> + <p> + And Ethel, lifting her shoulders sarcastically, as if in hostile surrender + to the inevitable, answered: + </p> + <p> + “It is a fatality!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + THREE days afterward Ethel called on Dora Stanhope at the Savoy. She found + her alone, and she had evidently been crying. Indeed, she frankly admitted + the fact, declaring that she had been “so bored and so homesick, that she + relieved she had cried her beauty away.” She glanced at Ethel’s radiant + face and neat fresh toilet with envy, and added, “I am so glad to see you, + Ethel. But I was sure that you would come as soon as you knew I wanted + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed, Dora, you must not make yourself too sure of such a thing as + that! I really came to London to get some new gowns. I have been shopping + all morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you had come in answer to my letter. I was expecting you. That + is the reason I did not go out with Basil.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you expect a little too much, Dora? I have a great many interests + and duties——” + </p> + <p> + “I used to be first.” + </p> + <p> + “When a girl marries she is supposed to——” + </p> + <p> + “Please don’t talk nonsense. Basil does not take the place of everyone and + everything else. I think we are often very tired of each other. This + morning, when I was telling him what trouble I had with my maid, Julia, he + actually yawned. He tried to smother the yawn, but he could not, and of + course the honeymoon is over when your bridegroom yawns in your face while + you are telling him your troubles.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think you would be glad it was over. Of all the words in the + English language ‘honeymoon’ is the most ridiculous and imbecile.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose when you get married you will take a honeymoon.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall have more sense and more selfishness. A girl could hardly enter a + new life through a medium more trying. I am sure it would need long-tested + affections and the sweetest of tempers to make it endurable.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot imagine what you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that all traveling just after marriage is a great blunder. + Traveling makes the sunniest disposition hasty and peevish, for women + don’t love changes as men do. Not one in a thousand is seen at her best + while traveling, and the majority are seen at their very worst. Then there + is the discomfort and desolation of European hotels—their mysterious + methods and hours, and the ways of foreigners, which are not as our ways.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk of them, Ethel. They are dreadful places, and such queer + people.” + </p> + <p> + “Add to these troubles ignorance of language and coinage, the utter + weariness of railway travel, the plague of customs, the trunk that won’t + pack, the trains that won’t wait, the tiresome sight-seeing, the climatic + irritability, broiling suns, headache, loneliness, fretfulness—consequently + the pitiful boredom of the new husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel, what you say is certainly too true. I am weary to death of it all. + I want to be at Newport with mother, who is having a lovely time there. Of + course Basil is very nice to me, and yet there have been little tiffs and + struggles—very gentle ones—for the mastery, which he is not + going to get. To-day he wanted me to go with him and Canon Shackleton to + see something or other about the poor of London. I would not do it. I am + so lonely, Ethel, I want to see some one. I feel fit to cry all the time. + I like Basil best of anyone in the world, but——” + </p> + <p> + “But in the solitude of a honeymoon among strangers you find out that the + person you like best in the world can bore you as badly as the person you + don’t like at all. Is that so?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. Just fancy if we were among our friends in Newport. I should + have some pleasure in dressing and looking lovely. Why should I dress + here? There is no one to see me.” + </p> + <p> + “Basil.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, but Basil spends all the time in visiting cathedrals and + clergymen. If we go out, it is to see something about the poor, or about + schools and such like. We were not in London two hours until he was off to + Westminster Abbey, and I didn’t care a cent about the old place. He says I + must not ask him to go to theaters, but historical old houses don’t + interest me at all. What does it matter if Cromwell slept in a certain + ancient shabby room? And as for all the palaces I have seen, my father’s + house is a great deal handsomer, and more convenient, and more + comfortable, and I wish I were there. I hate Europe, and England I hate + worst of all.” + </p> + <p> + “You have not seen England. We are all enraptured with its beauty and its + old houses and pleasant life.” + </p> + <p> + “You are among friends—at home, as it were. I have heard all about + Rawdon Court. Fred Mostyn told me. He is going to buy it.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “Some time this fall. Then next year he will entertain us, and that will + be a little different to this desolate hotel, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “How long will you be in London?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot say. We are invited to Stanhope Castle, but I don’t want to go + there. We stayed with the Stanhopes a week when we first came over. They + were then in their London house, and I got enough of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you dislike the family?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I cared nothing about them. They just bored me. They are extremely + religious. We had prayers night and morning, and a prayer before and after + every meal. They read only very good books, and the Honorable Misses + Stanhope sew for the poor old women and teach the poor young ones. They + work harder than anyone I ever knew, and they call it ‘improving the + time.’ They thought me a very silly, reckless young woman, and I think + they all prayed for me. One night after they had sung some very nice songs + they asked me to play, and I began with ‘My Little Brown Rose’—you + know they all adore the negro—and little by little I dropped into + the funniest coon songs I knew, and oh how they laughed! Even the old lord + stroked his knees and laughed out loud, while the young ladies laughed + into their handkerchiefs. Lady Stanhope was the only one who comprehended + I was guying them; and she looked at me with half-shut eyes in a way that + would have spoiled some girls’ fun. It only made me the merrier. So I + tried to show them a cake walk, but the old lord rose then and said ‘I + must be tired, and they would excuse me.’ Somehow I could not manage him. + Basil was at a workman’s concert, and when he came home I think there were + some advices and remonstrances, but Basil never told me. I felt as if they + were all glad when I went away, and I don’t wish to go to the Castle—and + I won’t go either.” + </p> + <p> + “But if Basil wishes to go——” + </p> + <p> + “He can go alone. I rather think Fred Mostyn will be here in a few days, + and he will take me to places that Basil will not—innocent places + enough, Ethel, so you need not look so shocked. Why do you not ask me to + Rawdon Court?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I am only a guest there. I have no right to ask you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure if you told Squire Rawdon how fond you are of me, and how + lonely I am, he would tell you to send for me.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not believe he would. He has old-fashioned ideas about newly married + people. He would hardly think it possible that you would be willing to go + anywhere without Basil—yet.” + </p> + <p> + “He could ask Basil too.” + </p> + <p> + “If Mr. Mostyn is coming home, he can ask you to Mostyn Hall. It is very + near Rawdon Court.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Fred said as soon as he had possession of the Court he could put + both places into a ring fence. Then he would live at the Court. If he asks + us there next summer I shall be sure to beg an invitation for you also; so + I think you might deserve it by getting me one now. I don’t want to go to + Mostyn yet. Fred says it needs entire refurnishing, and if we come to the + Court next summer, I have promised to give him my advice and help in + making the place pretty and up to date. Have you seen Mostyn Hall?” + </p> + <p> + “I have passed it several times. It is a large, gloomy-looking place I was + going to say haunted-looking. It stands in a grove of yew trees.” + </p> + <p> + “So you are not going to ask me to Rawdon Court?” + </p> + <p> + “I really cannot, Dora. It is not my house. I am only a guest there.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. Make no more excuses. I see how it is. You always were + jealous of Fred’s liking for me. And of course when he goes down to Mostyn + you would prefer me to be absent.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, Dora! I have a deal of shopping to do, and there is not much + time before the ball, for many things will be to make.” + </p> + <p> + “The ball! What ball?” + </p> + <p> + “Only one at Rawdon Court. The neighbors have been exceedingly kind to us, + and the Squire is going to give a dinner and ball on the first of August.” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down and tell me about the neighbors—and the ball.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot. I promised Ruth to be back at five. Our modiste is to see us at + that hour.” + </p> + <p> + “So Ruth is with you! Why did she not call on me?” + </p> + <p> + “Did you think I should come to London alone? And Ruth did not call + because she was too busy.” + </p> + <p> + “Everyone and everything comes before me now. I used to be first of all. I + wish I were in Newport with dad and mamma; even Bryce would be a comfort.” + </p> + <p> + “As I said before, you have Mr. Stanhope.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to send for me to the ball?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot promise that, Dora. Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + Dora did not answer. She buried her face in the soft pillow, and Ethel + closed the door to the sound of her sobs. But they did not cause her to + return or to make any foolish promises. She divined their insincerity and + their motive, and had no mind to take any part in forwarding the latter. + </p> + <p> + And Ruth assured her she had acted wisely. “If trouble should ever come of + this friendship,” she said, “Dora would very likely complain that you had + always thrown Mostyn in her way, brought him to her house in New York, and + brought her to him at Rawdon, in England. Marriage is such a risk, Ethel, + but to marry without the courage to adapt oneself. AH!” + </p> + <p> + “You think that condition unspeakably hard?” + </p> + <p> + “There are no words for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Dora was not reticent, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry. A wife’s complaints are self-inflicted wounds; scattered + seeds, from which only misery can spring. I hope you will not see her + again at this time.” + </p> + <p> + “I made no promise to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “And where all is so uncertain, we had better suppose all is right than + that all is wrong. Even if there was the beginning of wrong, it needs but + an accident to prevent it, and there are so many.” + </p> + <p> + “Accidents!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for accident is God’s part in affairs. We call it accident; it would + be better to say an interposition.” + </p> + <p> + “Dora told me Mostyn intended to buy Rawdon Court in September, and he has + even invited the Stanhopes to stay there next summer.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing against it.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good. Do you think Mostyn is in London now?” + </p> + <p> + “I should not wonder. I am sure Dora is expecting him.” + </p> + <p> + In fact, the next morning they met Dora and Basil Stanhope, driving in + Hyde Park with Mostyn, but the smiling greeting which passed between the + parties did not, except in the case of Basil Stanhope, fairly represent + the dominant feeling of anyone. As for Stanhope, his nature was so clear + and truthful that he would hardly have comprehended a smile which was + intended to veil feelings not to be called either quite friendly or quite + pleasant. After this meeting all the joy went out of Ruth and Ethel’s + shopping. They wanted to get back to the Court, and they attended strictly + to business in order to do so. + </p> + <p> + Mostyn followed them very quickly. He was exceedingly anxious to see and + hear for himself how his affairs regarding Rawdon stood. They were easily + made plain to him, and he saw with a pang of disappointment that all his + hopes of being Squire of Rawdon Manor were over. Every penny he could + righteously claim was paid to him, and on the title deeds of the ancient + place he had no longer the shadow of a claim. The Squire looked ten years + younger as he affectionately laid both hands on the redeemed parchments, + and Mostyn with enforced politeness congratulated him on their integrity + and then made a hurried retreat. Of its own kind this disappointment was + as great as the loss of Dora. He could think of neither without a sense of + immeasurable and disastrous failure. One petty satisfaction regarding the + payment of the mortgage was his only com-fort. He might now show McLean + that it was not want of money that had made him hitherto shy of “the good + investments” offered him. He had been sure McLean in their last interview + had thought so, and had, indeed, felt the half-veiled contempt with which + the rich young man had expressed his pity for Mostyn’s inability to take + advantage at the right moment of an exceptional chance to play the game of + beggaring his neighbor. Now, he told himself, he would show McLean and his + braggart set that good birth and old family was for once allied with + plenty of money, and he also promised his wounded sensibilities some very + desirable reprisals, every one of which he felt fully competent to take. + </p> + <p> + It was, after all, a poor compensation, but there was also the gold. He + thanked his father that day for the great thoughtfulness and care with + which he had amassed this sum for him, and he tried to console himself + with the belief that gold answered all purposes, and that the yellow metal + was a better possession than the house and lands which he had longed for + with an inherited and insensate craving. + </p> + <p> + Two days after this event Ethel, at her father’s direction, signed a + number of papers, and when that duty was completed, the Squire rose from + his chair, kissed her hands and her cheeks, and in a voice full of + tenderness and pride said, “I pay my respects to the future lady of Rawdon + Manor, and I thank God for permitting me to see this hour. Most welcome, + Lady Ethel, to the rights you inherit, and the rights you have bought.” It + was a moment hardly likely to be duplicated in any life, and Ethel escaped + from its tense emotions as soon as possible. She could not speak, her + heart was too full of joy and wonder. There are souls that say little and + love much. How blessed are they! + </p> + <p> + On the following morning the invitations were sent for the dinner and + dance, but the time was put forward to the eighth of August. In everyone’s + heart there was a hope that before that day Mostyn would have left Rawdon, + but the hope was barely mentioned. In the meantime he came and went + between Mostyn and Rawdon as he desired, and was received with that modern + politeness which considers it best to ignore offenses that our + grandfathers and grandmothers would have held for strict account and + punishment. + </p> + <p> + It was evident that he had frequent letters from Dora. He knew all her + movements, and spoke several times of opening Mostyn Hall and inviting the + Stanhopes to stay with him until their return to America. But as this + suggestion did not bring from any member of the Rawdon family the + invitation hoped for, it was not acted upon. He told himself the expense + would be great, and the Hall, in spite of all he could do in the interim, + would look poor and shabby compared with Rawdon Court; so he put aside the + proposal on the ground that he could not persuade his aunt to do the + entertaining necessary. And for all the irritation and humiliations + centering round his loss of Rawdon and his inabilities with regard to Dora + he blamed Ethel. He was sure if he had been more lovable and encouraging + he could have married her, and thus finally reached Rawdon Court; and + then, with all the unreason imaginable, nursed a hearty dislike to her + because she would not understand his desires, and provide means for their + satisfaction. The bright, joyous girl with her loving heart, her abounding + vitality, and constant cheerfulness, made him angry. In none of her + excellencies he had any share, consequently he hated her. + </p> + <p> + He would have quickly returned to London, but Dora and her husband were + staying with the Stanhopes, and her letters from Stanhope Castle were + lachrymose complaints of the utter weariness and dreariness of life there + the preaching and reading aloud, the regular walking and driving—all + the innocent method of lives which recognized they were here for some + higher purpose than mere physical enjoyment. And it angered Mostyn that + neither Ruth nor Ethel felt any sympathy for Dora’s ennui, and proposed no + means of releasing her from it. He considered them both disgustingly + selfish and ill-natured, and was certain that all their reluctance at + Dora’s presence arose from their jealousy of her beauty and her enchanting + grace. + </p> + <p> + On the afternoon of the day preceding the intended entertainment Ruth, + Ethel, and the Squire were in the great dining-room superintending its + decoration. They were merrily laughing and chatting, and were not aware of + the arrival of any visitors until Mrs. Nicholas Rawdon’s rosy, + good-natured face appeared at the open door. Everyone welcomed her gladly, + and the Squire offered her a seat. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, Squire,” she said, “I’m come to ask a favor, and I won’t sit till I + know whether I get it or not; for if I don’t get it, I shall say good-by + as quickly as I can. Our John Thomas came home this morning and his friend + with him, and I want invitations for the young men, both of them. My great + pleasure lies that way—if you’ll give it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Most gladly,” answered the Squire, and Ethel immediately went for the + necessary passports. When she returned she found Mrs. Nicholas helping + Ruth and the Squire to arrange the large silver and cut crystal on the + sideboard, and talking at the same time with unabated vivacity. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she was saying, “the lads would have been here two days ago, but + they stayed in London to see some American lady married. John Thomas’s + friend knew her. She was married at the Ambassador’s house. A fine affair + enough, but it bewilders me this taking up marriage without priest or + book. It’s a new commission. The Church’s warrant, it seems, is out of + date. It may be right’ it may be legal, but I told John Thomas if he ever + got himself married in that kind of a way, he wouldn’t have father or me + for witnesses.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad,” said the Squire, “that the young men are home in time for our + dance. The young like such things.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure they do. John Thomas wouldn’t give me a moment’s rest till I + came here. I didn’t want to come. I thought John Thomas should come + himself, and I told him plainly that I was ready to do anyone a favor if I + could, but if he wanted me to come because he was afraid to come himself, + I was just as ready to shirk the journey. And he laughed and said he was + not feared for any woman living, but he did want to make his first + appearance in his best clothes—and that was natural, wasn’t it? So I + came for the two lads.” Then she looked at the girls with a smile, and + said in a comfortable kind of way: “You’ll find them very nice lads, + indeed. I can speak for John Thomas, I have taken his measure long since; + and as far as I can judge his friend, Nature went about some full work + when she made a man of him. He’s got a sweet temper, and a strong mind, + and a straight judgment, if I know anything about men—which Nicholas + sometimes makes me think I don’t. But Nicholas isn’t an ordinary man, he’s + what you call ‘an exception.’” Then shaking her head at Ethel, she + continued reprovingly: “You were neither of you in church Sunday. I know + some young women who went to the parish church—Methodists they are—specially + to see your new hats. There’s some talk about them, I can tell you, and + the village milliner is pestered to copy them. She keeps her eyes open for + you. You disappointed a lot of people. You ought to go to church in the + country. It’s the most respectable thing you can do.” + </p> + <p> + “We were both very tired,” said Ruth, “and the sun was hot, and we had a + good Sabbath at home. Ethel read the Psalms, Epistle and Gospel for the + day, and the Squire gave us some of the grandest organ music I ever + heard.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well! Everyone knows the Squire is a grand player. I don’t suppose + there is another to match him in the whole world, and the old feeling + about church-going is getting slack among the young people. They serve God + now very much at their ease.” + </p> + <p> + “Is not that better than serving Him on compulsion?” asked Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say. I’m no bigot. I was brought up an Independent, and went to + their chapel until I married Nicholas Rawdon. My father was a + broad-thinking man. He never taught me to locate God in any building; and + I’m sure I don’t believe our parish church is His dwelling-place. If it + is, they ought to mend the roof and put a new carpet down and make things + cleaner and more respectable. Well, Squire, you have silver enough to + tempt all the rogues in Yorkshire, and there’s a lot of them. But now I’ve + seen it, I’ll go home with these bits of paper. I shall be a very + important woman to-night. Them two lads won’t know how to fleech and + flatter me enough. I’ll be waited on hand and foot. And Nicholas will get + a bit of a set-down. He was bragging about Miss Ethel bringing his + invitation to his hand and promising to dance with him. I wouldn’t do it + if I were Miss Ethel. She’ll find out, if she does, what it means to dance + with a man that weighs twenty stone, and who has never turned hand nor + foot to anything but money-making for thirty years.” + </p> + <p> + She went away with a sweep and a rustle of her shimmering silk skirt, and + left behind her such an atmosphere of hearty good-nature as made the last + rush and crowd of preparations easily ordered and quickly accomplished. + Before her arrival there had been some doubt as to the weather. She + brought the shining sun with her, and when he set, he left them with the + promise of a splendid to-morrow—a promise amply redeemed when the + next day dawned. Indeed, the sunshine was so brilliant, the garden so gay + and sweet, the lawn so green and firm, the avenues so shady and full of + wandering songs, that it was resolved to hold the preliminary reception + out of doors. Ethel and Ruth were to receive on the lawn, and at the open + hall door the Squire would wait to welcome his guests. + </p> + <p> + Soon after five o’clock there was a brilliant crowd wandering and resting + in the pleasant spaces; and Ethel, wearing a diaphanously white robe and + carrying a rush basket full of white carnations, was moving among them + distributing the flowers. She was thus the center of a little laughing, + bantering group when the Nicholas Rawdon party arrived. Nicholas remained + with the Squire, Mrs. Rawdon and the young men went toward Ethel. Mrs. + Rawdon made a very handsome appearance—“an aristocratic Britannia in + white liberty silk and old lace,” whispered Ruth, and Ethel looked up + quickly, to meet her merry eyes full of some unexplained triumph. In + truth, the proud mother was anticipating a great pleasure, not only in the + presentation of her adored son, but also in the curiosity and astonishment + she felt sure would be evoked by his friend. So, with the boldness of one + who brings happy tidings, she pressed forward. Ethel saw her approach, and + went to meet her. Suddenly her steps were arrested. An extraordinary thing + was going to happen. The Apollo of her dreams, the singer of the Holland + House pavement, was at Mrs. Rawdon’s side, was talking to her, was + evidently a familiar friend. She was going to meet him, to speak to him at + last. She would hear his name in a few moments; all that she had hoped and + believed was coming true. And the clear, resonant voice of Lydia Rawdon + was like music in her ears as she said, with an air of triumph she could + not hide: + </p> + <p> + “Miss Rawdon, I want you to know my son, Mr. John Thomas Rawdon, and also + John Thomas’s cousin, Mr. Tyrrel Rawdon, of the United States.” Then Mr. + Tyrrel Rawdon looked into Ethel’s face, and in that marvelous meeting of + their eyes, swift as the firing of a gun, their pupils dilated and flashed + with recognition, and the blood rushed crimson over both faces. She gave + the gentlemen flowers, and listened to Mrs. Rawdon’s chatter, and said in + reply she knew not what. A swift and exquisite excitement had followed her + surprise. Feelings she could not voice were beating at her lips, and yet + she knew that without her conscious will she had expressed her + astonishment and pleasure. It was, indeed, doubtful whether any after + speech or explanation would as clearly satisfy both hearts as did that + momentary flash from soul to soul of mutual remembrance and interest. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I’d give you a surprise,” said Mrs. Rawdon delightedly. “You + didn’t know the Tyrrel-Rawdons had a branch in America, did you? We are a + bit proud of them, I can tell you that.” + </p> + <p> + And, indeed, the motherly lady had some reason. John Thomas was a handsome + youth of symmetrical bone and flesh and well-developed muscle. He had + clear, steady, humorous eyes; a manner frank and independent, not to be + put upon; and yet Ethel divined, though she could not have declared, the + “want” in his appearance—that all-overish grace and elasticity which + comes only from the development of the brain and nervous system. His face + was also marred by the seal of commonness which trade impresses on so many + men, the result of the subjection of the intellect to the will, and of the + impossibility of grasping things except as they relate to self. In this + respect the American cousin was his antipodes. His whole body had a + psychical expression—slim, elastic, alert. Over his bright gray eyes + the eyelids drew themselves horizontally, showing his dexterity and + acuteness of mind; indeed, his whole expression and mien + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Were, as are the eagle’s keen, + All the man was aquiline.” + </pre> + <p> + These personal characteristics taking some minutes to describe were almost + an instantaneous revelation to Ethel, for what the soul sees it sees in a + flash of understanding. But at that time she only answered her impressions + without any inquiry concerning them. She was absorbed by the personal + presence of the men, and all that was lovely and lovable in her nature + responded to their admiration. + </p> + <p> + As they strolled together through a flowery alley, she made them pass + their hands through the thyme and lavender, and listen to a bird singing + its verses, loud and then soft, in the scented air above them. They came + out where the purple plums and golden apricots were beginning to brighten + a southern wall, and there, moodily walking by himself, they met Mostyn + face to face. An angry flash and movement interpreted his annoyance, but + he immediately recovered himself, and met Ethel and his late political + opponent with polite equanimity. But a decided constraint fell on the + happy party, and Ethel was relieved to hear the first tones of the great + bell swing out from its lofty tower the call to the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + As far as Mostyn was concerned, this first malapropos meeting indicated + the whole evening. His heart was beating quickly to some sense of defeat + which he did not take the trouble to analyze. He only saw the man who had + shattered his political hopes and wasted his money in possession also of + what he thought he might rightly consider his place at Ethel’s side. He + had once contemplated making Ethel his bride, and though the matrimonial + idea had collapsed as completely as the political one, the envious, + selfish misery of the “dog in the manger” was eating at his heartstrings. + He did not want Ethel; but oh, how he hated the thought of either John + Thomas or that American Raw-don winning her! His seat at the dinner-table + also annoyed him. It was far enough from the objects of his resentment to + prevent him hearing or interfering in their merry conversation; and he + told himself with passionate indignation that Ethel had never once in all + their intercourse been so beautiful and bright as she revealed herself + that evening to those two Rawdon youths—one a mere loom-master, the + other an American whom no one knew anything about. + </p> + <p> + The long, bewitching hours of the glorious evening added fuel to the flame + of his anger. He could only procure from Ethel the promise of one + unimportant dance at the close of her programme; and the American had + three dances, and the mere loom-man two. And though he attempted to + restore his self-complacency by devoting his whole attentions to the only + titled young ladies in the room, he had throughout the evening a sense of + being snubbed, and of being a person no longer of much importance at + Rawdon Court. And the reasoning of wounded self-love is a singular + process. Mostyn was quite oblivious of any personal cause for the change; + he attributed it entirely to the Squire’s ingratitude. + </p> + <p> + “I did the Squire a good turn when he needed it, and of course he hates me + for the obligation; and as for the Judge and his fine daughter, they + interfered with my business—did me a great wrong—and they are + only illustrating the old saying, ‘Since I wronged you I never liked + you.’” After indulging such thoughts awhile, he resolved to escort the + ladies Aurelia and Isolde Danvers to Danvers Castle, and leave Miss Ethel + to find a partner for her last dance, a decision that favored John Thomas, + greatly relieved Ethel, and bestowed upon himself that most irritating of + all punishments, a self-inflicted disappointment. + </p> + <p> + This evening was the inauguration of a period of undimmed delight. In it + the Tyrrel-Rawdons concluded a firm and affectionate alliance with the + elder branch at the Court, and one day after a happy family dinner John + Thomas made the startling proposal that “the portrait of the disinherited, + disowned Tyrrel should be restored to its place in the family gallery.” He + said he had “just walked through it, and noticed that the spot was still + vacant, and I think surely,” he added, “the young man’s father must have + meant to recall him home some day, but perhaps death took him unawares.” + </p> + <p> + “Died in the hunting-field,” murmured the Squire. + </p> + <p> + John Thomas bowed his head to the remark, and proceeded, “So perhaps, + Squire, it may be in your heart to forgive the dead, and bring back the + poor lad’s picture to its place. They who sin for love aren’t so bad, sir, + as they who sin for money. I never heard worse of Tyrrel Rawdon than that + he loved a poor woman instead of a rich woman—and married her. Those + that have gone before us into the next life, I should think are good + friends together; and I wouldn’t wonder if we might even make them happier + there if we conclude to forget all old wrongs and live together here—as + Rawdons ought to live—like one family.” + </p> + <p> + “I am of your opinion, John Thomas,” said the Squire, rising, and as he + did so he looked at the Judge, who immediately indorsed the proposal. One + after the other rose with sweet and strong assent, until there was only + Tyrrel Rawdon’s voice lacking. But when all had spoken he rose also, and + said: + </p> + <p> + “I am Tyrrel Rawdon’s direct descendant, and I speak for him when I say + to-day, ‘Make room for me among my kindred!’ He that loves much may be + forgiven much.” + </p> + <p> + Then the housekeeper was called, and they went slowly, with soft words, up + to the third story of the house. And the room unused for a century was + flung wide open; the shutters were unbarred, and the sunshine flooded it; + and there amid his fishing tackle, guns, and whips, and faded ballads upon + the wall, and books of wood lore and botany, and dress suits of velvet and + satin, and hunting suits of scarlet—all faded and falling to pieces—stood + the picture of Tyrrel Rawdon, with its face turned to the wall. The Squire + made a motion to his descendant, and the young American tenderly turned it + to the light. There was no decay on those painted lineaments. The almost + boyish face, with its loving eyes and laughing mouth, was still + twenty-four years old; and with a look of pride and affection the Squire + lifted the picture and placed it in the hands of the Tyrrel Rawdon of the + day. + </p> + <p> + The hanging of the picture in its old place was a silent and tender little + ceremony, and after it the party separated. Mrs. Rawdon went with Ruth to + rest a little. She said “she had a headache,” and she also wanted a good + womanly talk over the affair. The Squire, Judge Rawdon, Mr. Nicholas + Rawdon, and John Thomas returned to the dining-room to drink a bottle of + such mild Madeira as can only now be found in the cellars of old county + magnates, and Ethel and Tyrrel Rawdon strolled into the garden. There had + not been in either mind any intention of leaving the party, but as they + passed through the hall Tyrrel saw Ethel’s garden hat and white parasol + lying on a table, and, impelled by some sudden and unreasoned instinct, he + offered them to her. Not a word of request was spoken; it was the eager, + passionate command of his eyes she obeyed. And for a few minutes they were + speechless, then so intensely conscious that words stumbled and were lame, + and they managed only syllables at a time. But he took her hand, and they + came by sunny alleys of boxwood to a great plane tree, bearing at wondrous + height a mighty wealth of branches. A bank of soft, green turf encircled + its roots, and they sat down in the trembling shadows. It was in the midst + of the herb garden; beds of mint and thyme, rosemary and marjoram, basil, + lavender, and other fragrant plants were around, and close at hand a + little city of straw skeps peopled by golden brown bees; From these skeps + came a delicious aroma of riced flowers and virgin wax. It was a new + Garden of Eden, in which life was sweet as perfume and pure as prayer. + Nothing stirred the green, sunny afternoon but the murmur of the bees, and + the sleepy twittering of the birds in the plane branches. An inexpressible + peace swept like the breath of heaven through the odorous places. They sat + down sighing for very happiness. The silence became too eloquent. At + length it was almost unendurable, and Ethel said softly: + </p> + <p> + “How still it is!” + </p> + <p> + Tyrrel looked at her steadily with beaming eyes. Then he took from his + pocket a little purse of woven gold and opal-tinted beads, and held it in + his open hand for her to see, watching the bright blush that spread over + her face, and the faint, glad smile that parted her lips. + </p> + <p> + “You understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It is mine.” + </p> + <p> + “It was yours. It is now mine.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you get it?” + </p> + <p> + “I bought it from the old man you gave it to.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Then you know him? How is that?” + </p> + <p> + “The hotel people sent a porter home with him lest he should be robbed. + Next day I made inquiries, and this porter told me where he lived. I went + there and bought this purse from him. I knew some day it would bring me to + you. I have carried it over my heart ever since.” + </p> + <p> + “So you noticed me?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw you all the time I was singing. I have never forgotten you since + that hour.” + </p> + <p> + “What made you sing?” + </p> + <p> + “Compassion, fate, an urgent impulse; perhaps, indeed, your piteous face—I + saw it first.” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw it first. I saw it all the time I was singing. When you dropped + this purse my soul met yours in a moment’s greeting. It was a promise. I + knew I should meet you again. I have loved you ever since. I wanted to + tell you so the hour we met. It has been hard to keep my secret so long.” + </p> + <p> + “It was my secret also.” + </p> + <p> + “I love you beyond all words. My life is in your hands. You can make me + the gladdest of mortals. You can send me away forever.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, I could not! I could not do that!” The rest escapes words; but + thus it was that on this day of days these two came by God’s grace to each + other. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + For all things come by fate to flower, + At their unconquerable hour. +</pre> + <p> + And the very atmosphere of such bliss is diffusive; it seemed as if all + the living creatures around understood. In the thick, green branches the + birds began to twitter the secret, and certainly the wise, wise bees knew + also, in some occult way, of the love and joy that had just been revealed. + A wonderful humming and buzzing filled the hives, and the air vibrated + with the movement of wings. Some influence more swift and secret than the + birds of the air carried the matter further, for it finally reached Royal, + the Squire’s favorite collie, who came sauntering down the alley, pushed + his nose twice under Ethel’s elbow, and then with a significant look + backward, advised the lovers to follow him to the house. + </p> + <p> + When they finally accepted his invitation, they found Mrs. Rawdon drinking + a cup of tea with Ruth in the hall. Ethel joined them with affected high + spirits and random explanations and excuses, but both women no-ticed her + radiant face and exulting air. “The garden is such a heavenly place,” she + said ecstatically, and Mrs Rawdon remarked, as she rose and put her cup on + the table, “Girls need chaperons in gardens if they need them anywhere. I + made Nicholas Rawdon a promise in Mossgill Garden I’ve had to spend all my + life since trying to keep.” + </p> + <p> + “Tyrrel and I have been sitting under the plane tree watching the bees. + They are such busy, sensible creatures.” + </p> + <p> + “They are that,” answered Mrs. Rawdon. “If you knew all about them you + would wonder a bit. My father had a great many; he studied their ways and + used to laugh at the ladies of the hive being so like the ladies of the + world. You see the young lady bees are just as inexperienced as a + schoolgirl. They get lost in the flowers, and are often so overtaken and + reckless, that the night finds them far from the hive, heavy with pollen + and chilled with cold. Sometimes father would lift one of these imprudent + young things, carry it home, and try to get it admitted. He never could + manage it. The lady bees acted just as women are apt to do when other + women GO where they don’t go, or DO as they don’t do.” + </p> + <p> + “But this is interesting,” said Ruth. “Pray, how did the ladies of the + hive behave to the culprit?” + </p> + <p> + “They came out and felt her all over, turned her round and round, and then + pushed her out of their community. There was always a deal of buzzing + about the poor, silly thing, and I shouldn’t wonder if their stings were + busy too. Bees are ill-natured as they can be. Well, well, I don’t blame + anyone for sitting in the garden such a day as this; only, as I was + saying, gardens have been very dangerous places for women as far as I + know.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth laughed softly. “I shall take a chaperon with me, then, when I go + into the garden.” + </p> + <p> + “I would, dearie. There’s the Judge; he’s a very suitable, sedate-looking + one but you never can tell. The first woman found in a garden and a tree + had plenty of sorrow for herself and every woman that has lived after her. + I wish Nicholas and John Thomas would come. I’ll warrant they’re talking + what they call politics.” + </p> + <p> + Politics was precisely the subject which had been occupying them, for when + Tyrrel entered the dining-room, the Squire, Judge Rawdon, and Mr. Nicholas + Rawdon were all standing, evidently just finishing a Conservative argument + against the Radical opinions of John Thomas. The young man was still + sitting, but he rose with smiling good-humor as Tyrrel entered. + </p> + <p> + “Here is Cousin Tyrrel,” he cried; “he will tell you that you may call a + government anything you like radical, conservative, republican, + democratic, socialistic, but if it isn’t a CHEAP government, it isn’t a + good government; and there won’t be a cheap government in England till + poor men have a deal to say about making laws and voting taxes.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that the kind of stuff you talk to our hands, John Thomas? No wonder + they are neither to hold nor to bind.” + </p> + <p> + They were in the hall as John Thomas finished his political creed, and in + a few minutes the adieux were said, and the wonderful day was over. It had + been a wonderful day for all, but perhaps no one was sorry for a pause in + life—a pause in which they might rest and try to realize what it had + brought and what it had taken away. The Squire went at once to his room, + and Ethel looked at Ruth inquiringly. She seemed exhausted, and was out of + sympathy with all her surroundings. + </p> + <p> + “What enormous vitality these Yorkshire women must have!” she said almost + crossly. “Mrs. Rawdon has been talking incessantly for six hours. She has + felt all she said. She has frequently risen and walked about. She has used + all sorts of actions to emphasize her words, and she is as fresh as if she + had just taken her morning bath. How do the men stand them?” + </p> + <p> + “Because they are just as vital. John Thomas will overlook and scold and + order his thousand hands all day, talk even his mother down while he eats + his dinner, and then lecture or lead his Musical Union, or conduct a poor + man’s concert, or go to ‘the Weaver’s Union,’ and what he calls ‘threep + them’ for two or three hours that labor is ruining capital, and killing + the goose that lays golden eggs for them. Oh, they are a wonderful race, + Ruth!” + </p> + <p> + “I really can’t discuss them now, Ethel.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you want to know what Tyrrel said to me this afternoon?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, I know. Lovers have said such things before, and lovers will say + them evermore. You shall tell me in the morning. I thought he looked + distrait and bored with our company.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, Tyrrel was so remarkably quiet that John Thomas also noticed his + mood, and as they sat smoking in Tyrrel’s room, he resolved to find out + the reason, and with his usual directness asked: + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of Ethel Rawdon, Tyrrel.” + </p> + <p> + “I think she is the most beautiful woman I ever saw. She has also the most + sincere nature, and her high spirit is sweetly tempered by her + affectionate heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you know so much about her. Look here, Cousin Tyrrel, I fancied + to-night you were a bit jealous of me. It is easy to see you are in love, + and I’ve no doubt you were thinking of the days when you would be + thousands of miles away, and I should have the ground clear and so on, + eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose I was, cousin, what then?” + </p> + <p> + “You would be worrying for nothing. I don’t want to marry Ethel Rawdon. If + I did, you would have to be on the ground all the time, and then I should + best you; but I picked out my wife two years ago, and if we are both alive + and well, we are going to be married next Christmas.” + </p> + <p> + “I am delighted. I——” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you would be.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is the young lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Lucy Watson. Her father is the Independent minister. He is a + gentleman, though his salary is less than we give our overseer. And he is + a great scholar. So is Lucy. She finished her course at college this + summer, and with high honors. Bless you, Tyrrel, she knows far more than I + do about everything but warps and looms and such like. I admire a clever + woman, and I’m proud of Lucy.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is she now?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she was a bit done up with so much study, and so she went to + Scarborough for a few weeks. She has an aunt there. The sea breezes and + salt water soon made her fit for anything. She may be home very soon now. + Then, Tyrrel, you’ll see a beauty—face like a rose, hair brown as a + nut, eyes that make your heart go galloping, the most enticing mouth, the + prettiest figure, and she loves me with all her heart. When she says ‘John + Thomas, dear one,’ I tremble with pleasure, and when she lets me kiss her + sweet mouth, I really don’t know where I am. What would you say if a girl + whispered, ‘I love you, and nobody but you,’ and gave you a kiss that was + like—like wine and roses? Now what would you say?” + </p> + <p> + “I know as little as you do what I would say. It’s a situation to make a + man coin new words. I suppose your family are pleased.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I never thought about my family till I had Lucy’s word. Then I told + mother. She knew Lucy all through. Mother has a great respect for + Independents, and though father sulked a bit at first, mother had it out + with him one night, and when mother has father quiet in their room father + comes to see things just as she wants him. I suppose that’s the way with + wives. Lucy will be just like that. She’s got a sharp little temper, too. + She’ll let me have a bit of it, no doubt, now and then.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you like that?” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t care a farthing for a wife without a bit of temper. There + would be no fun in living with a woman of that kind. My father would droop + and pine if mother didn’t spur him on now and then. And he likes it. Don’t + I know? I’ve seen mother snappy and awkward with him all breakfast time, + tossing her head, and rattling the china, and declaring she was worn out + with men that let all the good bargains pass them; perhaps making fun of + us because we couldn’t manage to get along without strikes. She had no + strikes with her hands, she’d like to see her women stand up and talk to + her about shorter hours, and so on; and father would look at me sly-like, + and as we walked to the mill together he’d laugh contentedly and say, + ‘Your mother was quite refreshing this morning, John Thomas. She has keyed + me up to a right pitch. When Jonathan Arkroyd comes about that wool he + sold us I’ll be all ready for him.’ So you see I’m not against a sharp + temper. I like women as Tennyson says English girls are, ‘roses set round + with little wilful thorns,’ eh?” + </p> + <p> + Unusual as this conversation was, its general tone was assumed by Ethel in + her confidential talk with Ruth the following day. Of course, Ruth was not + at all surprised at the news Ethel brought her, for though the lovers had + been individually sure they had betrayed their secret to no one, it had + really been an open one to Ruth since the hour of their meeting. She was + sincerely ardent in her praises of Tyrrel Rawdon, but—and there is + always a but—she wondered if Ethel had “noticed what a quick temper + he had.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” answered Ethel, “I should not like him not to have a quick + temper. I expect my husband to stand up at a moment’s notice for either + mine or his own rights or opinions.” + </p> + <p> + And in the afternoon when all preliminaries had been settled and approved, + Judge Rawdon expressed himself in the same manner to Ruth. “Yes,” he said, + in reply to her timid suggestion of temper, “you can strike fire anywhere + with him if you try it, but he has it under control. Besides, Ethel is + just as quick to flame up. It will be Rawdon against Rawdon, and Ethel’s + weapons are of finer, keener steel than Tyrrel’s. Ethel will hold her own. + It is best so.” + </p> + <p> + “How did the Squire feel about such a marriage?” + </p> + <p> + “He was quite overcome with delight. Nothing was said to Tyrrel about + Ethel having bought the reversion of Rawdon Manor, for things have been + harder to get into proper shape than I thought they would be, and it may + be another month before all is finally settled; but the Squire has the + secret satisfaction, and he was much affected by the certainty of a Rawdon + at Rawdon Court after him. He declined to think of it in any other way but + ‘providential,’ and of course I let him take all the satisfaction he could + out of the idea. Ever since he heard of the engagement he has been at the + organ singing the One Hundred and Third Psalm.” + </p> + <p> + “He is the dearest and noblest of men. How soon shall we go home now?” + </p> + <p> + “In about a month. Are you tired of England?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be glad to see America again. There was a letter from Dora this + morning. They sail on the twenty-third.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know anything of Mostyn?” + </p> + <p> + “Since he wrote us a polite farewell we have heard nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think he went to America?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell. When he bid us good-by he made no statement as to his + destination; he merely said ‘he was leaving England on business.’” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Ruth, we shall sail as soon as I am satisfied all is right. There + is a little delay about some leases and other matters. In the meantime the + lovers are in Paradise wherever we locate them.” + </p> + <p> + And in Paradise they dwelt for another four weeks. The ancient garden had + doubtless many a dream of love to keep, but none sweeter or truer than the + idyl of Tyrrel and Ethel Rawdon. They were never weary of rehearsing it; + every incident of its growth had been charming and romantic, and, as they + believed, appointed from afar. As the sum-mer waxed hotter the beautiful + place took on an appearance of royal color and splendor, and the air was + languid with the perfume of the clove carnations and tall white August + lilies. Fluted dahlias, scarlet poppies, and all the flowers that exhale + their spice in the last hot days of August burned incense for them. Their + very hair was laden with odor, their fingers flower-sweet, their minds + took on the many colors of their exquisite surroundings. + </p> + <p> + And it was part of this drama of love and scent and color that they should + see it slowly assume the more ethereal loveliness of September, and watch + the subtle amber rays shine through the thinning boughs, and feel that all + nature was becoming idealized. The birds were then mostly silent. They had + left their best notes on the hawthorns and among the roses; but the + crickets made a cheerful chirrup, and the great brown butterflies + displayed their richest velvets, and the gossamer-like insects in the + dreamy atmosphere performed dances and undulations full of grace and + mystery. And all these marvelous changes imparted to love that sweet + sadness which is beyond all words poetic and enchaining. + </p> + <p> + Yet however sweet the hours, they pass away, and it is not much memory can + save from the mutable, happy days of love. Still, when the hour of + departure came they had garnered enough to sweeten all the after-straits + and stress of time. September had then perceptibly begun to add to the + nights and shorten the days, and her tender touch had been laid on + everything. With a smile and a sigh the Rawdons turned their faces to + their pleasant home in the Land of the West. It was to be but a short + farewell. They had promised the Squire to return the following summer, but + he felt the desolation of the parting very keenly. With his hat slightly + lifted above his white head, he stood watching them out of sight. Then he + went to his organ, and very soon grand waves of melody rolled outward and + upward, and blended themselves with the clear, soaring voice of Joel, the + lad who blew the bellows of the instrument, and shared all his master’s + joy in it. They played and sang until the Squire rose weary, but full of + gladness. The look of immortality was in his eyes, its sure and certain + hope in his heart. He let Joel lead him to his chair by the window, and + then he said to himself with visible triumph: + </p> + <p> + “What Mr. Spencer or anyone else writes about ‘the Unknowable’ I care not. + I KNOW IN WHOM I have believed. Joel, sing that last sequence again. Stand + where I can see thee.” And the lad’s joyful voice rang exulting out: + </p> + <p> + “Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations. Before the + mountains were brought forth, or ever Thou hadst formed the world, from + everlasting to everlasting Thou art God! Thou art God! Thou art God!” + </p> + <p> + “That will do, Joel. Go thy ways now. Lord, Thou hast been our + dwelling-place in all generations. ‘Unknowable,’ Thou hast been our + dwelling-place in all generations. No, no, no, what an ungrateful sinner I + would be to change the Lord everlasting for the Unknowable.’” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + NEW YORK is at its very brightest and best in October. This month of the + year may be safely trusted not to disappoint. The skies are blue, the air + balmy, and there is generally a delightful absence of wind. The summer + exiles are home again from Jersey boarding houses, and mountain camps, and + seaside hotels, and thankful to the point of hilarity that this episode of + the year is over, that they can once more dwell under their own roofs + without breaking any of the manifest laws of the great goddess Custom or + Fashion. + </p> + <p> + Judge Rawdon’s house had an especially charming “at home” appearance. + During the absence of the family it had been made beautiful inside and + outside, and the white stone, the plate glass, and falling lace evident to + the street, had an almost conscious look of luxurious propriety. + </p> + <p> + The Judge frankly admitted his pleasure in his home surroundings. He said, + as they ate their first meal in the familiar room, that “a visit to + foreign countries was a grand, patriotic tonic.” He vowed that the “first + sight of the Stars and Stripes at Sandy Hook had given him the finest + emotion he had ever felt in his life,” and was altogether in his proudest + American mood. Ruth sympathized with him. Ethel listened smiling. She knew + well that the English strain had only temporarily exhausted itself; it + would have its period of revival at the proper time. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to see grandmother,” she said gayly. “I shall stay with her + all day.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have a letter from her,” interrupted the Judge, “and she will not + return home until next week.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry. I was anticipating so eagerly the joy of seeing her. Well, as + I cannot do so, I will go and call on Dora Stanhope.” + </p> + <p> + “I would not if I were you, Ethel,” said Ruth. “Let her come and call on + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I had a little note from her this morning, welcoming me home, and + entreating me to call.” + </p> + <p> + The Judge rose as Ethel was speaking, and no more was said about the visit + at that time but a few hours later Ethel came down from her room ready for + the street and frankly told Ruth she had made up her mind to call on Dora. + </p> + <p> + “Then I will only remind you, Ethel, that Dora is not a fortunate woman to + know. As far as I can see, she is one of those who sow pain of heart and + vexation of spirit about every house they enter, even their own. But I + cannot gather experience for you, it will have to grow in your own + garden.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, dear Ruth, and if I do not like its growth, I will pull it up + by the roots, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth went with her to the door and watched her walk leisurely down the + broad steps to the street. The light kindled in her eyes and on her face + as she did so. She already felt the magnetism of the great city, and with + a laughing farewell walked rapidly toward Dora’s house. + </p> + <p> + Her card brought an instant response, and she heard Dora’s welcome before + the door was opened. And her first greeting was an enthusiastic + compliment, “How beautiful you have grown, Ethel!” she cried. “Ah, that is + the European finish. You have gained it, my dear; you really are very much + improved.” + </p> + <p> + “And you also, Dora?” + </p> + <p> + The words were really a question, but Dora accepted them as an assertion, + and was satisfied. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I am,” she answered, “though I’m sure I can’t tell how it + should be so, unless worry of all kinds is good for good looks. I’ve had + enough of that for a lifetime.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Dora.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s the solid truth—partly your fault too.” + </p> + <p> + “I never interfered——” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you didn’t, but you ought to have interfered. When you called + on me in London you might have seen that I was not happy; and I wanted to + come to Rawdon Court, and you would not invite me. I called your behavior + then ‘very mean,’ and I have not altered my opinion of it.” + </p> + <p> + “There were good reasons, Dora, why I could not ask you.” + </p> + <p> + “Good reasons are usually selfish ones, Ethel, and Fred Mostyn told me + what they were. + </p> + <p> + “He likely told you untruths, Dora, for he knew nothing about my reasons. + I saw very little of him.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. You treated him as badly as you treated me, and all for some wild + West creature—a regular cowboy, Fred said, but then a Rawdon!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Mostyn has misrepresented Mr. Tyrrel Rawdon—that is all about + it. I shall not explain ‘how’ or ‘why.’ Did you enjoy yourself at Stanhope + Castle?” + </p> + <p> + “Enjoy myself! Are you making fun of me? Ethel, dear, it was the most + awful experience. You never can imagine such a life, and such women. They + were dressed for a walk at six o’clock; they had breakfast at half-past + seven. They went to the village and inspected cottages, and gave lessons + in housekeeping or dressmaking or some other drudgery till noon. They + walked back to the Castle for lunch. They attended to their own + improvement from half-past one until four, had lessons in drawing and + chemistry, and, I believe, electricity. They had another walk, and then + indulged themselves with a cup of tea. They dressed and received visitors, + and read science or theology between whiles. There was always some noted + preacher or scholar at the dinner table. The conversation was about acids + and explosives, or the planets or bishops, or else on the never, + never-ending subject of elevating the workingman and building schools for + his children. Basil, of course, enjoyed it. He thought he was giving me a + magnificent object lesson. He was never done praising the ladies Mary + Elinor and Adelaide Stanhope. I’m sure I wish he had married one or all of + them—and I told him so.” + </p> + <p> + “You could not be so cruel, Dora.” + </p> + <p> + “I managed it with the greatest ease imaginable. He was always trotting at + their side. They spoke of him as ‘the most pious young man.’ I have no + doubt they were all in love with him. I hope they were. I used to pretend + to be very much in love when they were present. I dare say it made them + wretched. Besides, they blushed and thought me improper. Basil didn’t + approve, either, so I hit all round.” + </p> + <p> + She rose at this memory and shook out her silk skirts, and walked up and + down the room with an air that was the visible expression of the mockery + and jealousy in her heart. This was an entirely different Dora to the + lachrymose, untidy wife at the Savoy Hotel in London, and Ethel had a + momentary pang at the thought of the suffering which was responsible for + the change. + </p> + <p> + “If I had thought, Dora, you were so uncomfortable, I would have asked + Basil and you to the Court.” + </p> + <p> + “You saw I was not happy when I was at the Savoy.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you and Basil had had a kind of lovers’ quarrel, and that it + would blow over in an hour or two; no one likes to meddle with an affair + of that kind. Are you going to Newport, or is Mrs. Denning in New York?” + </p> + <p> + “That is another trouble, Ethel. When I wrote mother I wanted to come to + her, she sent me word she was going to Lenox with a friend. Then, like + you, she said ‘she had no liberty to invite me,’ and so on. I never knew + mother act in such a way before. I nearly broke my heart about it for a + few days, then I made up my mind I wouldn’t care.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Denning, I am sure, thought she did the wisest and kindest thing + possible.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t want mother to be wise. I wanted her to understand that I was + fairly worn out with my present life and needed a change. I’m sure she did + understand. Then why was she so cruel?” and she shrugged her shoulders + impatiently and sat down. “I’m so tired of life,” she continued. “When did + you hear of Fred Mostyn?” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing of his movements. Is he in America?” + </p> + <p> + “Somewhere. I asked mother if he was in Newport, and she never answered + the ques-tion. I suppose he will be in New York for the winter season. I + hope so.” + </p> + <p> + This topic threatened to be more dangerous than the other, and Ethel, + after many and futile attempts to bring conversation into safe commonplace + channels, pleaded other engagements and went away. She was painfully + depressed by the interview. All the elements of tragedy were gathered + together under the roof she had just left, and, as far as she could see, + there was no deliverer wise and strong enough to prevent a calamity. She + did not repeat to Ruth the conversation which had been so painful to her. + She described Dora’s dress and appearance, and commented on Fred Mostyn’s + description of Tyrrel Rawdon, and on Mrs. Denning’s refusal of her + daughter’s proposed visit. + </p> + <p> + Ruth thought the latter circumstance significant. “I dare say Mostyn was + in Newport at that time,” she answered. “Mrs. Denning has some very quick + perceptions.” And Ruth’s opinion was probably correct, for during dinner + the Judge remarked in a casual manner that he had met Mr. Mostyn on the + avenue as he was coming home. “He was well,” he said, “and made all the + usual inquiries as to your health.” And both Ruth and Ethel understood + that he wished them to know of Mostyn’s presence in the city, and to be + prepared for meeting him; but did not care to discuss the subject further, + at least at that time. The information brought precisely the same thought + at the same moment to both women, and as soon as they were alone they + uttered it. + </p> + <p> + “She knew Mostyn was in the city,” said Ethel in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “She was expecting him.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Her elaborate and beautiful dressing was for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Basil!” + </p> + <p> + “She asked me to stay and lunch with her, but very coolly, and when I + refused, did not press the matter as she used to do. Yes, she was + expecting him. I understand now her nervous manner, her restlessness, her + indifference to my short visit. I wish I could do anything.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot, and you must not try.” + </p> + <p> + “Some one must try.” + </p> + <p> + “There is her husband. Have you heard from Tyrrel yet.” + </p> + <p> + “I have had a couple of telegrams. He will write from Chicago.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he going at once to the Hot Springs?” + </p> + <p> + “As rapidly as possible. Colonel Rawdon is now there, and very ill. Tyrrel + will put his father first of all. The trouble at the mine can be + investigated afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “You will miss him very much. You have been so happy together.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I shall miss him. But it will be a good thing for us to be + apart awhile. Love must have some time in which to grow. I am a little + tired of being very happy, and I think Tyrrel also will find absence a + relief. In ‘Lalla Rookh’ there is a line about love ‘falling asleep in a + sameness of splendor.’ It might. How melancholy is a long spell of hot, + sunshiny weather, and how gratefully we welcome the first shower of rain.” + </p> + <p> + “Love has made you a philosopher, Ethel.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is rather an advantage than otherwise. I am going to take a + walk, Ruth, into the very heart of Broadway. I have had enough of the + peace of the country. I want the crack, and crash, and rattle, and grind + of wheels, the confused cries, the snatches of talk and laughter, the + tread of crowds, the sound of bells, and clocks, and chimes. I long for + all the chaotic, unintelligible noise of the streets. How suggestive it + is! Yet it never explains itself. It only gives one a full sense of life. + Love may need just the same stimulus. I wish grandmother would come home. + I should not require Broadway as a stimulus. I am afraid she will be very + angry with me, and there will be a battle royal in Gramercy Park.” + </p> + <p> + It was nearly a week before Ethel had this crisis to meet. She went down + to it with a radiant face and charming manner, and her reception was very + cordial. Madam would not throw down the glove until the proper moment; + besides, there were many very interesting subjects to talk over, and she + wanted “to find things out” that would never be told unless tempers were + propitious. Added to these reasons was the solid one that she really + adored her granddaughter, and was immensely cheered by the very sight of + the rosy, smiling countenance lifted to her sitting-room window in + passing. She, indeed, pretended to be there in order to get a good light + for her new shell pattern, but she was watching for Ethel, and Ethel + understood the shell-pattern fiction very well. She had heard something + similar often. + </p> + <p> + “My darling grandmother,” she cried, “I thought you would never come + home.” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn’t my fault, dear. Miss Hillis and an imbecile young doctor made + me believe I had a cold. I had no cold. I had nothing at all but what I + ought to have. I’ve been made to take all sorts of things, and do all + sorts of things that I hate to take and hate to do. For ten days I’ve been + kicking my old heels against bedclothes. Yesterday I took things in my own + hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Granny dear, it was all a good discipline.” + </p> + <p> + “Discipline! You impertinent young lady! Discipline for your grandmother! + Discipline, indeed! That one word may cost you a thousand dollars, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care if it does, only you must give the thousand dollars to poor + Miss Hillis.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Miss Hillis has had a most comfortable time with me all summer.” + </p> + <p> + “I know she has, consequently she will feel her comfortless room and + poverty all the more after it. Give her the thousand, Granny. I’m + willing.” + </p> + <p> + “What kind of company have you been keeping, Ethel Rawdon? Who has taught + you to squander dollars by the thousand? Discipline! I think you are + giving me a little now—a thousand dollars a lesson, it seems—no + wonder, after the carryings-on at Rawdon Court.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear grandmother, we had the loveliest time you can imagine. And there is + not, in all the world, such a noble old gentleman as Squire Percival + Rawdon.” + </p> + <p> + “I know all about Percival Rawdon—a proud, careless, extravagant, + loose-at-ends man, dancing and singing and loving as it suited time and + season, taking no thought for the future, and spending with both hands; + hard on women, too, as could be.” + </p> + <p> + “Grandmother, I never saw a more courteous gentleman. He worships women. + He was never tired of talking about you.” + </p> + <p> + “What had he to say about me?” + </p> + <p> + “That you were the loveliest girl in the county, and that he never could + forget the first time he saw you. He said you were like the vision of an + angel.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! I was just a pretty girl in a book muslin frock and a white + sash, with a rose at my breast. I believe they use book muslin for linings + now, but it did make the sheerest, lightest frocks any girl could want. + Yes, I remember that time. I was going to a little party and crossing a + meadow to shorten the walk, and Squire Percival had been out with his gun, + and he laid it down and ran to help me over the stile. A handsome young + fellow he was then as ever stepped in shoe leather.” + </p> + <p> + “And he must have loved you dearly. He would sit hour after hour telling + Ruth and me how bright you were, and how all the young beaux around + Monk-Rawdon adored you.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! Nonsense! I had beaux to be sure. What pretty girl hasn’t?” + </p> + <p> + “And he said his brother Edward won you because he was most worthy of your + love.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, I chose Edward Rawdon because he was willing to come to + America. I longed to get away from Monk-Rawdon. I was faint and weary with + the whole stupid place. And the idea of living a free and equal life, and + not caring what lords and squires and their proud ladies said or did, + pleased me wonderfully. We read about Niagara and the great prairies and + the new bright cities, and Edward and I resolved to make our home there. + Your grandfather wasn’t a man to like being ‘the Squire’s brother.’ He + could stand alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you glad you came to America?” + </p> + <p> + “Never sorry a minute for it. Ten years in New York is worth fifty years + in Monk-Rawdon, or Rawdon Court either.” + </p> + <p> + “Squire Percival was very fond of me. He thought I resembled you, + grandmother, but he never admitted I was as handsome as you were.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Ethel dear, you are handsome enough for the kind of men you’ll pick + up in this generation—most of them bald at thirty, wearing + spectacles at twenty or earlier, and in spite of the fuss they make about + athletics breaking all to nervous bits about fifty.” + </p> + <p> + “Grandmother, that is pure slander. I know some very fine young men, + handsome and athletic both.” + </p> + <p> + “Beauty is a matter of taste, and as to their athletics, they can run a + mile with a blacksmith, but when the thermometer rises to eighty-five + degrees it knocks them all to pieces. They sit fanning themselves like + schoolgirls, and call for juleps and ice-water. I’ve got eyes yet, my + dear. Squire Percival was a different kind of man; he could follow the + hounds all day and dance all night. The hunt had not a rider like him; he + balked at neither hedge, gate, nor water; a right gallant, courageous, + honorable, affectionate gentleman as ever Yorkshire bred, and she’s bred + lots of superfine ones. What ever made him get into such a mess with his + estate? Your grandfather thought him as straight as a string in money + matters.” + </p> + <p> + “You said just now he was careless and extravagant.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I did him wrong, and I’m sorry for it. How did he manage to need + eighty thousand pounds?” + </p> + <p> + “It is rather a pitiful story, grandmother, but he never once blamed those + who were in the wrong. His son for many years had been the real manager of + the estate. He was a speculator; his grandsons were wild and extravagant. + They began to borrow money ten years ago and had to go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Whom did they borrow from?” + </p> + <p> + “Fred Mostyn’s father.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil! Excuse me, Ethel—but the name suits and may stand.” + </p> + <p> + “The dear old Squire would have taken the fault on himself if he could + have done so. They that wronged him were his own, and they were dead. He + never spoke of them but with affection.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Percival! Your father told me he was now out of Mostyn’s power; he + said you had saved the estate, but he gave me no particulars. How did you + save it?” + </p> + <p> + “Bought it!” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “House and lands and outlying farms and timber—everything.” + </p> + <p> + Then a rosy color overspread Madam’s face, her eyes sparkled, she rose to + her feet, made Ethel a sweeping courtesy, and said: + </p> + <p> + “My respect and congratulations to Ethel, Lady of Rawdon Manor.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear grandmother, what else could I do?” + </p> + <p> + “You did right.” + </p> + <p> + “The Squire is Lord of the Manor as long as he lives. My father says I + have done well to buy it. In the future, if I do not wish to keep it, + Nicholas Rawdon will relieve me at a great financial advantage.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you let Nicholas Rawdon buy it now?” + </p> + <p> + “He would have wanted prompt possession. The Squire would have had to + leave his home. It would have broken his heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say. He has a soft, loving heart. That isn’t always a blessing. It + can give one a deal of suffering. And I hear you have all been making + idols of these Tyrrel-Rawdons. Fred tells me they are as vulgar a lot as + can be.” + </p> + <p> + “Fred lies! Excuse me, grandmother—but the word suits and may stand. + Mr. Nicholas is pompous, and walks as slowly as if he had to carry the + weight of his great fortune; but his manners are all right, and his wife + and son are delightful. She is handsome, well dressed, and so good-hearted + that her pretty county idioms are really charming. John Thomas is a man by + himself—not handsome, but running over with good temper, and + exceedingly clever and wide-awake. Many times I was forced to tell myself, + John Thomas would make an ideal Squire of Rawdon.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you marry him.” + </p> + <p> + “He never asked me.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the matter with the men?” + </p> + <p> + “He was already engaged to a very lovely young lady.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad she is a lady.” + </p> + <p> + “She is also very clever. She has been to college and taken high honors, a + thing I have not done.” + </p> + <p> + “You might have done and overdone that caper; you were too sensible to try + it. Well, I’m glad that part of the family is looking up. They had the + right stuff in them, and it is a good thing for families to dwell together + in unity. We have King David’s word for that. My observation leads me to + think it is far better for families to dwell apart, in unity. They seldom + get along comfortably together.” + </p> + <p> + Then Ethel related many pleasant, piquant scenes between the two families + at Monk-Rawdon, and especially that one in which the room of the first + Tyrrel had been opened and his likeness restored to its place in the + family gallery. It touched the old lady to tears, and she murmured, “Poor + lad! Poor lad! I wonder if he knows! I wonder if he knows!” + </p> + <p> + The crucial point of Ethel’s revelations had not yet been revealed, but + Madam was now in a gentle mood, and Ethel took the opportunity to + introduce her to Tyrrel Rawdon. She was expecting and waiting for this + topic, but stubbornly refused to give Ethel any help toward bringing it + forward. At last, the girl felt a little anger at her pretended + indifference, and said, “I suppose Fred Mostyn told you about Mr. Tyrrel + Rawdon, of California?” + </p> + <p> + “Tyrrel Rawdon, of California! Pray, who may he be?” + </p> + <p> + “The son of Colonel Rawdon, of the United States Army.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, to be sure! Well, what of him?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to marry him.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall see about that.” + </p> + <p> + “We were coming here together to see you, but before we left the steamer + he got a telegram urging him to go at once to his father, who is very + ill.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not asked him to come and see me. Perhaps he will wait till I do + so.” + </p> + <p> + “If you are not going to love Tyrrel, you need not love me. I won’t have + you for a grandmother any longer.” + </p> + <p> + “I did without you sixty years. I shall not live another twelve months, + and I think I can manage to do without you for a granddaughter any + longer.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot do without me. You would break your heart, and I should break + mine.” Whereupon Ethel began to cry with a passion that quite gratified + the old lady. She watched her a few moments, and then said gently: + </p> + <p> + “There now, that will do. When he comes to New York bring him to see me. + And don’t name the man in the meantime. I won’t talk about him till I’ve + seen him. It isn’t fair either way. Fred didn’t like him.” + </p> + <p> + “Fred likes no one but Dora Stanhope.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh! What! Is that nonsense going on yet?” + </p> + <p> + Then Ethel described her last two interviews with Dora. She did this with + scrupulous fidelity, making no suggestions that might prejudice the case. + For she really wanted her grandmother’s decision in order to frame her own + conduct by it. Madam was not, however, in a hurry to give it. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think?” she asked Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I have known Dora for many years; she has always told me everything.” + </p> + <p> + “But nothing about Fred?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing to tell, perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “Where does her excellent husband come in?” + </p> + <p> + “She says he is very kind to her in his way.” + </p> + <p> + “And his way is to drag her over the world to see the cathedrals thereof, + and to vary that pleasure with inspecting schools and reformatories and + listening to great preachers. Upon my word, I feel sorry for the child! + And I know all about such excellent people as the Stanhopes. I used to go + to what they call ‘a pleasant evening’ with them. We sat around a big room + lit with wax candles, and held improving conversation, or some one sang + one or two of Mrs. Hemans’ songs, like ‘Passing Away’ or ‘He Never Smiled + Again.’ Perhaps there was a comic recitation, at which no one laughed, and + finally we had wine and hot water—they called it ‘port negus’—and + tongue sandwiches and caraway cakes. My dear Ethel, I yawn now when I + think of those dreary evenings. What must Dora have felt, right out of the + maelstrom of New York’s operas and theaters and dancing parties?” + </p> + <p> + “Still, Dora ought to try to feel some interest in the church affairs. She + says she does not care a hairpin for them, and Basil feels so hurt.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say he does, poor fellow! He thinks St. Jude’s Kindergarten and + sewing circles and missionary societies are the only joys in the world. + Right enough for Basil, but how about Dora?” + </p> + <p> + “They are his profession; she ought to feel an interest in them.” + </p> + <p> + “Come now, look at the question sensibly. Did Dora’s father bring his + ‘deals’ and stock-jobbery home, and expect Dora and her mother to feel an + interest in them? Do doctors tell their wives about their patients, and + expect them to pay sympathizing visits? Does your father expect Ruth and + yourself to listen to his cases and arguments, and visit his poor clients + or make underclothing for them? Do men, in general, consider it a wife’s + place to interfere in their profession or business?” + </p> + <p> + “Clergymen are different.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. Preaching and philanthropy is their business. They get so + much a year for doing it. I don’t believe St. Jude’s pays Mrs. Stanhope a + red cent. There now, and if she isn’t paid, she’s right not to work. Amen + to that!” + </p> + <p> + “Before she was married Dora said she felt a great interest in church + work.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say she did. Marriage makes a deal of difference in a woman’s + likes and dislikes. Church work was courting-time before marriage; after + marriage she had other opportunities.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you might speak to Fred Mostyn——” + </p> + <p> + “I might, but it wouldn’t be worth while. Be true to your friend as long + as you can. In Yorkshire we stand by our friends, right or wrong, and we + aren’t too particular as to their being right. My father enjoyed + justifying a man that everyone else was down on; and I’ve stood by many a + woman nobody had a good word for. I was never sorry for doing it, either. + I’ll be going into a strange country soon, and I should not wonder if some + of them that have gone there first will be ready to stand by me. We don’t + know what friends we’ll be glad of there.” + </p> + <p> + The dinner bell broke up this conversation, and Ethel during it told Madam + about the cook and cooking at the Court and at Nicholas Rawdon’s, where + John Thomas had installed a French chef. Other domestic arrangements were + discussed, and when the Judge called for his daughter at four o’clock, + Madam vowed “she had spent one of the happiest days of her life.” + </p> + <p> + “Ruth tells me,” said the Judge, “that Dora Stanhope called for Ethel soon + after she left home this morning. Ruth seems troubled at the continuance + of this friendship. Have you spoken to your grandmother, Ethel, about + Dora?” + </p> + <p> + “She has told me all there is to tell, I dare say,” answered Madam. + </p> + <p> + “Well, mother, what do you think?” + </p> + <p> + “I see no harm in it yet awhile. It is not fair, Edward, to condemn upon + likelihoods. We are no saints, sinful men and women, all of us, and as + much inclined to forbidden fruit as any good Christians can be. Ethel can + do as she feels about it; she’s got a mind of her own, and I hope to + goodness she’ll not let Ruth Bayard bit and bridle it.” + </p> + <p> + Going home the Judge evidently pondered this question, for he said after a + lengthy silence, “Grandmother’s ethics do not always fit the social ethics + of this day, Ethel. She criticises people with her heart, not her + intellect. You must be prudent. There is a remarkable thing called + Respectability to be reckoned with remember that.” + </p> + <p> + And Ethel answered, “No one need worry about Dora. Some women may show the + edges of their character soiled and ragged, but Dora will be sure to have + hers reputably finished with a hem of the widest propriety.” And after a + short silence the Judge added, almost in soliloquy, “And, moreover, Ethel, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘There’s a divinity that shapes our ends, + Rough-hew them how we will.’” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART4" id="link2H_PART4"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART FOURTH — THE REAPING OF THE SOWING + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + WHEN Ethel and Tyrrel parted at the steamer they did not expect a long + separation, but Colonel Rawdon never recovered his health, and for many + excellent reasons Tyrrel could not leave the dying man. Nor did Ethel wish + him to do so. Under these circumstances began the second beautiful phase + of Ethel’s wooing, a sweet, daily correspondence, the best of all + preparations for matrimonial oneness and understanding. Looking for + Tyrrel’s letters, reading them, and answering them passed many happy + hours, for to both it was an absolute necessity to assure each other + constantly, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Since I wrote thee yester eve + I do love thee, Love, believe, + Twelve times dearer, twelve hours longer, + One dream deeper one night stronger, + One sun surer—this much more + Than I loved thee, dear, before.” + </pre> + <p> + And for the rest, she took up her old life with a fresh enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + Among these interests none were more urgent in their claims than Dora + Stanhope; and fortified by her grandmother’s opinion, Ethel went at once + to call on her. She found Basil with his wife, and his efforts to make + Ethel see how much he expected from her influence, and yet at the same + time not even hint a disapproval of Dora, were almost pathetic, for he was + so void of sophistry that his innuendoes were flagrantly open to + detection. Dora felt a contempt for them, and he had hardly left the room + ere she said: + </p> + <p> + “Basil has gone to his vestry in high spirits. When I told him you were + coming to see me to-day he smiled like an angel. He believes you will keep + me out of mischief, and he feels a grand confidence in something which he + calls ‘your influence.’” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by mischief?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I suppose going about with Fred Mostyn. I can’t help that. I must + have some one to look after me. All the young men I used to know pass me + now with a lifted hat or a word or two. The girls have forgotten me. I + don’t suppose I shall be asked to a single dance this winter.” + </p> + <p> + “The ladies in St. Jude’s church would make a pet of you if——” + </p> + <p> + “The old cats and kittens! No, thank you, I am not going to church except + on Sunday mornings—that is respectable and right; but as to being + the pet of St. Jude’s ladies! No, no! How they would mew over my + delinquencies, and what scratches I should get from their velvet-shod + claws! If I have to be talked about, I prefer the ladies of the world to + discuss my frailties.” + </p> + <p> + “But if I were you, I would give no one a reason for saying a word against + me. Why should you?” + </p> + <p> + “Fred will supply them with reasons. I can’t keep the man away from me. I + don’t believe I want to—he is very nice and useful.” + </p> + <p> + “You are talking nonsense, things you don’t mean, Dora. You are not such a + foolish woman as to like to be seen with Fred Mostyn, that little + monocular snob, after the aristocratic, handsome Basil Stanhope. The + comparison is a mockery. Basil is the finest gentleman I ever saw. + Socially, he is perfection, and——” + </p> + <p> + “He is only a clergyman.” + </p> + <p> + “Even as a clergyman he is of religiously royal descent. There are + generations of clergymen behind him, and he is a prince in the pulpit. + Every man that knows him gives him the highest respect, every woman thinks + you the most fortunate of wives. No one cares for Fred Mostyn. Even in his + native place he is held in contempt. He had nine hundred votes to young + Rawdon’s twelve thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t mind that. I am going to the matinee to-morrow with Fred. He + wanted to take me out in his auto this afternoon, but when I said I would + go if you would he drew back. What is the reason? Did he make you offer of + his hand? Did you refuse it?” + </p> + <p> + “He never made me an offer. I count that to myself as a great compliment. + If he had done such a thing, he would certainly have been refused.” + </p> + <p> + “I can tell that he really hates you. What dirty trick did you serve him + about Rawdon Court?” + </p> + <p> + “So he called the release of Squire Rawdon a ‘dirty trick’? It would have + been a very dirty trick to have let Fred Mostyn get his way with Squire + Rawdon.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, Ethel, when a man lends his money as an obligation he expects + to get it back again.” + </p> + <p> + “Mostyn got every farthing due him, and he wanted one of the finest manors + in Eng-land in return for the obligation. He did not get it, thank God and + my father!” + </p> + <p> + “He will not forget your father’s interference.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope he will remember it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know who furnished the money to pay Fred? He says he is sure your + father did not have it.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him to ask my father. He might even ask your father. Whether my + father had the money or not was immaterial. Father could borrow any sum he + wanted, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Whom did he borrow from?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure that Fred told you to ask that question. Is he writing to you, + Dora?” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose he is?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot suppose such a thing. It is too impossible.” + </p> + <p> + This was the beginning of a series of events all more or less qualified to + bring about unspeakable misery in Basil’s home. But there is nothing in + life like the marriage tie. The tugs it will bear and not break, the + wrongs it will look over, the chronic misunderstandings it will forgive, + make it one of the mysteries of humanity. It was not in a day or a week + that Basil Stanhope’s dream of love and home was shattered. Dora had + frequent and then less frequent times of return to her better self; and + every such time renewed her husband’s hope that she was merely passing + through a period of transition and assimilation, and that in the end she + would be all his desire hoped for. + </p> + <p> + But Ethel saw what he did not see, that Mostyn was gradually inspiring her + with his own opinions, perhaps even with his own passion. In this + emergency, however, she was gratified to find that Dora’s mother appeared + to have grasped the situation. For if Dora went to the theater with + Mostyn, Mrs. Denning or Bryce was also there; and the reckless auto + driving, shopping, and lunching had at least a show of respectable + association. Yet when the opera season opened, the constant companionship + of Mostyn and Dora became entirely too remarkable, not only in the public + estimation, but in Basil’s miserable conception of his own wrong. The + young husband used every art and persuasion—and failed. And his + failure was too apparent to be slighted. He became feverish and nervous, + and his friends read his misery in eyes heavy with unshed tears, and in + the wasting pallor caused by his sleepless, sorrowful nights. + </p> + <p> + Dora also showed signs of the change so rapidly working on her. She was + sullen and passionate by turns; she complained bitterly to Ethel that her + youth and beauty had been wasted; that she was only nineteen, and her life + was over. She wanted to go to Paris, to get away from New York anywhere + and anyhow. She began to dislike even the presence of Basil. His stately + beauty offended her, his low, calm voice was the very keynote of + irritation. + </p> + <p> + One morning near Christmas he came to her with a smiling, radiant face. + “Dora,” he said, “Dora, my love, I have something so interesting to tell + you. Mrs. Colby and Mrs. Schaffler and some other ladies have a beautiful + idea. They wish to give all the children of the church under eight years + old the grandest Christmas tree imaginable—really rich presents and + they thought you might like to have it here.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say, Basil!” + </p> + <p> + “You were always so fond of children. You——” + </p> + <p> + “I never could endure them.” + </p> + <p> + “We all thought you might enjoy it. Indeed, I was so sure that I promised + for you. It will be such a pleasure to me also, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “I will have no such childish nonsense in my house.” + </p> + <p> + “I promised it, Dora.” + </p> + <p> + “You had no right to do so. This is my house. My father bought it and gave + me it, and it is my own. I——” + </p> + <p> + “It seems, then, that I intrude in your house. Is it so? Speak, Dora.” + </p> + <p> + “If you will ask questions you must take the answer. You do intrude when + you come with such ridiculous proposals—in fact, you intrude very + often lately.” + </p> + <p> + “Does Mr. Mostyn intrude?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Mostyn takes me out, gives me a little sensible pleasure. You think I + can be interested in a Christmas tree. The idea!” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, alas, Dora, you are tired of me! You do not love me! You do not + love me!” + </p> + <p> + “I love nobody. I am sorry I got married. It was all a mistake. I will go + home and then you can get a divorce.” + </p> + <p> + At this last word the whole man changed. He was suffused, transfigured + with an anger that was at once righteous and impetuous. + </p> + <p> + “How dare you use that word to me?” he demanded. “To the priest of God no + such word exists. I do not know it. You are my wife, willing or unwilling. + You are my wife forever, whether you dwell with me or not. You cannot + sever bonds the Almighty has tied. You are mine, Dora Stanhope! Mine for + time and eternity! Mine forever and ever!” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him in amazement, and saw a man after an image she had never + imagined. She was terrified. She flung herself on the sofa in a whirlwind + of passion. She cried aloud against his claim. She gave herself up to a + vehement rage that was strongly infused with a childish dismay and panic. + </p> + <p> + “I will not be your wife forever!” she shrieked. “I will never be your + wife again—never, not for one hour! Let me go! Take your hands off + me!” For Basil had knelt down by the distraught woman, and clasping her in + his arms said, even on her lips, “You ARE my dear wife! You are my very + own dear wife! Tell me what to do. Anything that is right, reasonable I + will do. We can never part.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go to my father. I will never come back to you.” And with these + words she rose, threw off his embrace, and with a sobbing cry ran, like a + terrified child, out of the room. + </p> + <p> + He sat down exhausted by his emotion, and sick with the thought she had + evoked in that one evil word. The publicity, the disgrace, the wrong to + Holy Church—ah, that was the cruelest wound! His own wrong was hard + enough, but that he, who would gladly die for the Church, should put her + to open shame! How could he bear it? Though it killed him, he must prevent + that wrong; yes, if the right eye offended it must be plucked out. He must + throw off his cassock, and turn away from the sacred aisles; he must—he + could not say the word; he would wait a little. Dora would not leave him; + it was impossible. He waited in a trance of aching suspense. Nothing for + an hour or more broke it—no footfall, no sound of command or + complaint. He was finally in hopes that Dora slept. Then he was called to + lunch, and he made a pretense of eating it alone. Dora sent no excuse for + her absence, and he could not trust himself to make inquiry about her. In + the middle of the afternoon he heard a carriage drive to the door, and + Dora, with her jewel-case in her hand, entered it and was driven away. The + sight astounded him. He ran to her room, and found her maid packing her + clothing. The woman answered his questions sullenly. She said “Mrs. + Stanhope had gone to Mrs. Denning’s, and had left orders for her trunks to + be sent there.” Beyond this she was silent and ignorant. No sympathy for + either husband or wife was in her heart. Their quarrel was interfering + with her own plans; she hated both of them in consequence. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime Dora had reached her home. Her mother was dismayed and + hesitating, and her attitude raised again in Dora’s heart the passion + which had provoked the step she had taken. She wept like a lost child. She + exclaimed against the horror of being Basil’s wife forever and ever. She + reproached her mother for suffering her to marry while she was only a + child. She said she had been cruelly used in order to get the family into + social recognition. She was in a frenzy of grief at her supposed sacrifice + when her father came home. Her case was then won. With her arms round his + neck, sobbing against his heart, her tears and entreaties on his lips, Ben + Denning had no feeling and no care for anyone but his daughter. He took + her view of things at once. “She HAD been badly used. It WAS a shame to + tie a girl like Dora to sermons and such like. It was like shutting her up + in a convent.” Dora’s tears and complaints fired him beyond reason. He + promised her freedom whatever it cost him. + </p> + <p> + And while he sat in his private room considering the case, all the racial + passions of his rough ancestry burning within him, Basil Stanhope called + to see him. He permitted him to come into his presence, but he rose as he + entered, and walked hastily a few steps to meet him. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want here, sir?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “My wife.” + </p> + <p> + “My daughter. You shall not see her. I have taken her back to my own + care.” + </p> + <p> + “She is my wife. No one can take her from me.” + </p> + <p> + “I will teach you a different lesson.” + </p> + <p> + “The law of God.” + </p> + <p> + “The law of the land goes here. You’ll find it more than you can defy.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, I entreat you to let me speak to Dora.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not.” + </p> + <p> + “I will stay here until I see her.” + </p> + <p> + “I will give you five minutes. I do not wish to offer your profession an + insult; if you have any respect for it you will obey me.” + </p> + <p> + “Answer me one question—what have I done wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “A man can be so intolerably right, that he becomes unbearably wrong. You + have no business with a wife and a home. You are a d—— sight + too good for a good little girl that wants a bit of innocent amusement. + Sermons and Christmas trees! Great Scott, what sensible woman would not be + sick of it all? Sir, I don’t want another minute of your company. Little + wonder that my Dora is ill with it. Oblige me by leaving my house as + quietly as possible.” And he walked to the door, flung it open, and stood + glaring at the distracted husband. “Go,” he said. “Go at once. My lawyer + will see you in the future. I have nothing further to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + Basil went, but not to his desolate home. He had a private key to the + vestry in his church, and in its darkness and solitude he faced the first + shock of his ruined life, for he knew well all was over. All had been. He + sank to the floor at the foot of the large cross which hung on its bare + white walls. Grief’s illimitable wave went over him, and like a drowning + man he uttered an inarticulate cry of agony—the cry of a soul that + had wronged its destiny. Love had betrayed him to ruin. All he had done + must be abandoned. All he had won must be given up. Sin and shame indeed + it would be if in his person a sacrament of the Church should be dragged + through a divorce court. All other considerations paled before this + disgrace. He must resign his curacy, strip himself of the honorable livery + of heaven, obliterate his person and his name. It was a kind of death. + </p> + <p> + After awhile he rose, drank some water, lifted the shade and let the + moonlight in. Then about that little room he walked with God through the + long night, telling Him his sorrow and perplexity. And there is a depth in + our own nature where the divine and human are one. That night Basil + Stanhope found it, and henceforward knew that the bitterness of death was + behind him, not before. “I made my nest too dear on earth,” he sighed, + “and it has been swept bare—that is, that I may build in heaven.” + </p> + <p> + Now, the revelation of sorrow is the clearest of all revelations. Stanhope + understood that hour what he must do. No doubts weakened his course. He + went back to the house Dora called “hers,” took away what he valued, and + while the servants were eating their breakfast and talking over his + marital troubles, he passed across its threshold for the last time. He + told no one where he was going; he dropped as silently and dumbly out of + the life that had known him as a stone dropped into mid-ocean. + </p> + <p> + Ethel considered herself fortunate in being from home at the time this + disastrous culmination of Basil Stanhope’s married life was reached. On + that same morning the Judge, accompanied by Ruth and herself, had gone to + Lenox to spend the holidays with some old friends, and she was quite + ignorant of the matter when she returned after the New Year. Bryce was her + first informant. He called specially to give her the news. He said his + sister had been too ill and too busy to write. He had no word of sympathy + for the unhappy pair. He spoke only of the anxiety it had caused him. “He + was now engaged,” he said, “to Miss Caldwell, and she was such an + extremely proper, innocent lady, and a member of St. Jude’s, it had really + been a trying time for her.” Bryce also reminded Ethel that he had been + against Basil Stanhope from the first. “He had always known how that + marriage would end,” and so on. + </p> + <p> + Ethel declined to give any opinion. “She must hear both sides,” she said. + “Dora had been so reasonable lately, she had appeared happy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dora is a little fox,” he replied; “she doubles on herself always.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth was properly regretful. She wondered “if any married woman was really + happy.” She did not apparently concern herself about Basil. The Judge + rather leaned to Basil’s consideration. He understood that Dora’s overt + act had shattered his professional career as well as his personal + happiness. He could feel for the man there. “My dears,” he said, with his + dilettante air, “the goddess Calamity is delicate, and her feet are + tender. She treads not upon the ground, but makes her path upon the hearts + of men.” In this non-committal way he gave his comment, for he usually + found a bit of classical wisdom to fit modern emergencies, and the habit + had imparted an antique bon-ton to his conversation. Ethel could only + wonder at the lack of real sympathy. + </p> + <p> + In the morning she went to see her grandmother. The old lady had “heard” + all she wanted to hear about Dora and Basil Stanhope. If men would marry a + fool because she was young and pretty, they must take the consequences. + “And why should Stanhope have married at all?” she asked indignantly. “No + man can serve God and a woman at the same time. He had to be a bad priest + and a good husband, or a bad husband and a good priest. Basil Stanhope was + honored, was doing good, and he must needs be happy also. He wanted too + much, and lost everything. Serve him right.” + </p> + <p> + “All can now find some fault in poor Basil Stanhope,” said Ethel. “Bryce + was bitter against him because Miss Caldwell shivers at the word + ‘divorce.’” + </p> + <p> + “What has Bryce to do with Jane Caldwell?” + </p> + <p> + “He is going to marry her, he says.” + </p> + <p> + “Like enough; she’s a merry miss of two-score, and rich. Bryce’s marriage + with anyone will be a well-considered affair—a marriage with all the + advantages of a good bargain. I’m tired of the whole subject. If women + will marry they should be as patient as Griselda, in case there ever was + such a woman; if not, there’s an end of the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “There are no Griseldas in this century, grandmother.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there ought to be no marriages. Basil Stanhope was a grand man in + public. What kind of a man was he in his home? Measure a man by his home + conduct, and you’ll not go wrong. It’s the right place to draw your + picture of him, I can tell you that.” + </p> + <p> + “He has no home now, poor fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Whose fault was it? God only knows. Where is his wife?” + </p> + <p> + “She has gone to Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “She has gone to the right place if she wants to play the fool. But there, + now, God forbid I should judge her in the dark. Women should stand by + women—considering.” + </p> + <p> + “Considering?” + </p> + <p> + “What they may have to put up with. It is easy to see faults in others. I + have sometimes met with people who should see faults in themselves. They + are rather uncommon, though.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure Basil Stanhope will be miserable all his life. He will break + his heart, I do believe.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so. A good heart is hard to break, it grows strong in trouble. Basil + Stanhope’s body will fail long before his heart does; and even so an end + must come to life, and after that peace or what God wills.” + </p> + <p> + This scant sympathy Ethel found to be the usual tone among her + acquaintances. St. Jude’s got a new rector and a new idol, and the + Stanhope affair was relegated to the limbo of things “it was proper to + forget.” + </p> + <p> + So the weeks of the long winter went by, and Ethel in the joy and hope of + her own love-life naturally put out of her mind the sorrow of lives she + could no longer help or influence. Indeed, as to Dora, there were frequent + reports of her marvelous social success in Paris; and Ethel did not doubt + Stanhope had found some everlasting gospel of holy work to comfort his + desolation. And then also + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Each day brings its petty dust, + Our soon-choked souls to fill; + And we forget because we must, + And not because we will.” + </pre> + <p> + One evening when May with heavy clouds and slant rains was making the city + as miserable as possible, Ethel had a caller. His card bore a name quite + unknown, and his appearance gave no clew to his identity. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Edmonds?” she said interrogatively. + </p> + <p> + “Are you Miss Ethel Rawdon?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Basil Stanhope told me to put this parcel in your hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Stanhope! I am glad to hear from him. Where is he now?” + </p> + <p> + “We buried him yesterday. He died last Sunday as the bells were ringing + for church—pneumonia, miss. While reading the ser-vice over a poor + young man he had nursed many weeks he took cold. The poor will miss him + sorely.” + </p> + <p> + “DEAD!” She looked aghast at the speaker, and again ejaculated the + pitiful, astounding word. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, miss. I promised him to return at once to the work he left + me to do.” And he quietly departed, leaving Ethel standing with the parcel + in her hands. She ran upstairs and locked it away. Just then she could not + bear to open it. + </p> + <p> + “And it is hardly twelve months since he was married,” she sobbed. “Oh, + Ruth, Ruth, it is too cruel!” + </p> + <p> + “Dear,” answered Ruth, “there is no death to such a man as Basil + Stanhope.” + </p> + <p> + “He was so young, Ruth.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. ‘His high-born brothers called him hence’ at the age of + twenty-nine, but + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘It is not growing like a tree, + In bulk, doth make men better be; + Or standing like an oak three hundred year, + To fall at last, dry, bald and sear: + A lily of a day + Is fairer far in May; + Although it fall and die that night, + It was the plant and flower of light.’” + </pre> + <p> + At these words the Judge put down his Review to listen to Ethel’s story, + and when she ceased speaking he had gone far further back than any antique + classic for compensation and satisfaction: + </p> + <p> + “He being made perfect in a short time fulfilled a long time. For his soul + pleased the Lord, therefore hasted He to take him away from among the + wicked.” <a href="#linknote-2" name="linknoteref-2" id="linknoteref-2"><small>2</small></a> + And that evening there was little conversation. Every heart was busy with + its own thoughts. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-2" id="linknote-2"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 2 (<a href="#linknoteref-2">return</a>)<br /> [ Wisdom of Solomon, IV., 13, + 14.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + TRADE and commerce have their heroes as well as arms, and the struggle in + which Tyrrel Rawdon at last plucked victory from apparent failure was as + arduous a campaign as any military operations could have afforded. It had + entailed on him a ceaseless, undaunted watch over antagonists rich and + powerful; and a fight for rights which contained not only his own fortune, + but the honor of his father, so that to give up a fraction of them was to + turn traitor to the memory of a parent whom he believed to be beyond all + doubt or reproach. Money, political power, civic influence, treachery, + bribery, the law’s delay and many other hindrances met him on every side, + but his heart was encouraged daily to perseverance by love’s tenderest + sympathy. For he told Ethel everything, and received both from her fine + intuitions and her father’s legal skill priceless comfort and advice. But + at last the long trial was over, the marriage day was set, and Tyrrel, + with all his rights conceded, was honorably free to seek the happiness he + had safeguarded on every side. + </p> + <p> + It was a lovely day in the beginning of May, nearly two years after their + first meeting, when Tyrrel reached New York. Ethel knew at what hour his + train would arrive, she was watching and listening for his step. They met + in each other’s arms, and the blessed hours of that happy evening were an + over-payment of delight for the long months of their separation. + </p> + <p> + In the morning Ethel was to introduce her lover to Madam Rawdon, and side + by side, almost hand in hand, they walked down the avenue together. + Walked? They were so happy they hardly knew whether their feet touched + earth or not. They had a constant inclination to clasp hands, to run as + little children run; They wished to smile at everyone, to bid all the + world good morning. Madam had resolved to be cool and careful in her + advances, but she quickly found herself unable to resist the sight of so + much love and hope and happiness. The young people together took her heart + by storm, and she felt herself compelled to express an interest in their + future, and to question Tyrrel about it. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do with yourself or make of yourself?” she asked + Tyrrel one evening when they were sitting together. “I do hope you’ll find + some kind of work. Anything is better than loafing about clubs and such + like places.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to study law with Judge Rawdon. My late experience has taught + me its value. I do not think I shall loaf in his office.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if he is anywhere around. He works and makes others work. Lawyering + is a queer business, but men can be honest in it if they want to.” + </p> + <p> + “And, grandmother,” said Ethel, “my father says Tyrrel has a wonderful + gift for public speaking. He made a fine speech at father’s club last + night. Tyrrel will go into politics.” + </p> + <p> + “Will he, indeed? Tyrrel is a wonder. If he manages to walk his shoes + straight in the zigzaggery ways of the law, he will be one of that grand + breed called ‘exceptions.’ As for politics, I don’t like them, far from + it. Your grandfather used to say they either found a man a rascal or made + him one. However, I’m ready to compromise on law and politics. I was + afraid with his grand voice he would set up for a tenor.” + </p> + <p> + Tyrrel laughed. “I did once think of that role,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I fancied that. Whoever taught you to use your voice knew a thing or two + about singing. I’ll say that much.” + </p> + <p> + “My mother taught me.” + </p> + <p> + “Never! I wonder now!” + </p> + <p> + “She was a famous singer. She was a great and a good woman. I owe her for + every excellent quality there is in me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you don’t. You have got your black eyes and hair her way, I’ll + warrant that, but your solid make-up, your pluck and grit and perseverance + is the Rawdon in you. Without Rawdon you would very likely now be + strutting about some opera stage, playing at kings and lovemaking.” + </p> + <p> + “As it is——” + </p> + <p> + “As it is, you will be lord consort of Rawdon Manor, with a silver mine to + back you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry about the Manor,” said Tyrrel. “I wish the dear old Squire + were alive to meet Ethel and myself.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure you do. But I dare say that he is glad now to have passed out + of it. Death is a mystery to those left, but I have no doubt it is + satisfying to those who have gone away. He died as he lived, very + properly; walked in the garden that morning as far as the strawberry beds, + and the gardener gave him the first ripe half-dozen in a young cabbage + leaf, and he ate them like a boy, and said they tasted as if grown in + Paradise, then strolled home and asked Joel to shake the pillows on the + sofa in the hall, laid himself down, shuffled his head easy among them, + and fell on sleep. So Death the Deliverer found him. A good going home! + Nothing to fear in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel tells me that Mr. Mostyn is now living at Mostyn Hall.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he married that girl he would have sold his soul for and took her + there, four months only after her husband’s death. When I was young he + durst not have done it, the Yorkshire gentry would have cut them both.” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Tyrrel, “American gentlemen of to-day felt much the same. + Will Madison told me that the club cut him as soon as Mrs. Stanhope left + her husband. He went there one day after it was known, and no one saw him; + finally he walked up to McLean, and would have sat down, but McLean said, + ‘Your company is not desired, Mr. Mostyn.’ Mostyn said something in + re-ply, and McLean answered sternly, ‘True, we are none of us saints, but + there are lines the worst of us will not pass; and if there is any member + of this club willing to interfere between a bridegroom and his bride, I + would like to kick him out of it.’ Mostyn struck the table with some + exclamation, and McLean continued, ‘Especially when the wronged husband is + a gentleman of such stainless character and unsuspecting nature as Basil + Stanhope—a clergyman also! Oh, the thing is beyond palliation + entirely!’ And he walked away and left Mostyn.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Madam, “if it came to kicking, two could play that game. Fred + is no coward. I don’t want to hear another word about them. They will + punish each other without our help. Let them alone. I hope you are not + going to have a crowd at your wedding. The quietest weddings are the + luckiest ones.” + </p> + <p> + “About twenty of our most intimate friends are invited to the church,” + said Ethel. “There will be no reception until we return to New York in the + fall.” + </p> + <p> + “No need of fuss here, there will be enough when you reach Monk-Rawdon. + The village will be garlanded and flagged, the bells ring-ing, and all + your tenants and retainers out to meet you.” + </p> + <p> + “We intend to get into our own home without anyone being aware of it. + Come, Tyrrel, my dressmaker is waiting, I know. It is my wedding gown, + dear Granny, and oh, so lovely!” + </p> + <p> + “You will not be any smarter than I intend to be, miss. You are shut off + from color. I can outdo you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure you can—and will. Here comes father. What can he want?” + They met him at the door, and with a few laughing words left him with + Madam. She looked curiously into his face and asked, “What is it, Edward?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose they have told you all the arrangements. They are very simple. + Did they say anything about Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + “They never named her. They said they were going to Washington for a week, + and then to Rawdon Court. Ruth seems out of it all. Are you going to turn + her adrift, or present her with a few thousand dollars? She has been a + mother to Ethel. Something ought to be done for Ruth Bayard.” + </p> + <p> + “I intend to marry her.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so.” + </p> + <p> + “She will go to her sister’s in Philadelphia for a month ‘s preparation. I + shall marry her there, and bring her home as my wife. She is a sweet, + gentle, docile woman. She will make me happy.” + </p> + <p> + “Sweet, gentle, docile! Yes, that is the style of wife Rawdon men prefer. + What does Ethel say?” + </p> + <p> + “She is delighted. It was her idea. I was much pleased with her + thoughtfulness. Any serious break in my life would now be a great + discomfort. You need not look so satirical, mother; I thought of Ruth’s + life also.” + </p> + <p> + “Also an afterthought; but Ruth is gentle and docile, and she is + satisfied, and I am satisfied, so then everything is proper and everyone + content. Come for me at ten on Wednesday morning. I shall be ready. No + refreshments, I suppose. I must look after my own breakfast. Won’t you + feel a bit shabby, Edward?” And then the look and handclasp between them + turned every word into sweetness and good-will. + </p> + <p> + And as Ethel regarded her marriage rather as a religious rite than a + social function, she objected to its details becoming in any sense public, + and her desires were to be regarded. Yet everyone may imagine the white + loveliness of the bride, the joy of the bridegroom, the calm happiness of + the family breakfast, and the leisurely, quiet leave-taking. The whole + ceremony was the right note struck at the beginning of a new life, and + they might justly expect it would move onward in melodious sequence. + </p> + <p> + Within three weeks after their marriage they arrived at Rawdon Court. It + was on a day and at an hour when no one was looking for them, and they + stepped into the lovely home waiting for them without outside observation. + Hiring a carriage at the railway station, they dismissed it at the little + bridge near the Manor House, and sauntered happily through the intervening + space. The door of the great hall stood open, and the fire, which had been + burning on its big hearth unquenched for more than three hundred years, + was blazing merrily, as if some hand had just replenished it. On the long + table the broad, white beaver hat of the dead Squire was lying, and his + oak walking stick was beside it. No one had liked to remove them. They + remained just as he had put them down, that last, peaceful morning of his + life. + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes the whole household was aware of their home-coming, and + before the day was over the whole neighborhood. Then there was no way of + avoiding the calls, the congratulations, and the entertainments that + followed, and the old Court was once more the center of a splendid + hospitality. Of course the Tyrrel-Rawdons were first on the scene, and + Ethel was genuinely glad to meet again the good-natured Mrs. Nicholas. No + one could give her better local advice, and Ethel quickly discovered that + the best general social laws require a local interpretation. Her hands + were full, her heart full, she had so many interests to share, so many + people to receive and to visit, and yet when two weeks passed and Dora + neither came nor wrote she was worried and dissatisfied. + </p> + <p> + “Are the Mostyns at the Hall?” she asked Mrs. Nicholas at last. “I have + been expecting Mrs. Mostyn every day, but she neither comes nor writes to + me.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say not. Poor little woman! I’ll warrant she has been forbid to do + either. If Mostyn thought she wanted to see you, he would watch day and + night to prevent her coming. He’s turning out as cruel a man as his father + was, and you need not say a word worse than that.” + </p> + <p> + “Cruel! Oh, dear, how dreadful! Men will drink and cheat and swear, but a + cruel man seems so unnatural, so wicked.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, cruelty is the joy of devils. As I said to John Thomas when + we heard about Mostyn’s goings-on, we have got rid of the Wicked One, but + the wicked still remain with us.” + </p> + <p> + This conversation having been opened, was naturally prolonged by the + relation of incidents which had come through various sources to Mrs. + Rawdon’s ears, all of them indicating an almost incredible system of petty + tyranny and cruel contradiction. Ethel was amazed, and finally angry at + what she heard. Dora was her countrywoman and her friend; she instantly + began to express her sympathy and her intention of interfering. + </p> + <p> + “You had better neither meddle nor make in the matter,” answered Mrs. + Rawdon. “Our Lucy went to see her, and gave her some advice about managing + Yorkshiremen. And as she was talking Mostyn came in, and was as rude as he + dared to be. Then Lucy asked him ‘if he was sick.’ She said, ‘All the men + in the neighborhood, gentle and simple, were talking about him, and that + it wasn’t a pleasant thing to be talked about in the way they were doing + it. You must begin to look more like yourself, Mr. Mostyn; it is good + advice I am giving you,’ she added; and Mostyn told her he would look as + he felt, whether it was liked or not liked. And Lucy laughed, and said, + ‘In that case he would have to go to his looking-glass for company.’ Well, + Ethel, there was a time to joy a devil after Lucy left, and some one of + the servants went on their own responsibility for a doctor; and Mostyn + ordered him out of the house, and he would not go until he saw Mrs. + Mostyn; and the little woman was forced to come and say ‘she was quite + well,’ though she was sobbing all the time she spoke. Then the doctor told + Mostyn what he thought, and there is a quarrel between them every time + they meet.” + </p> + <p> + But Ethel was not deterred by these statements; on the contrary, they + stimulated her interest in her friend. Dora needed her, and the old + feeling of protection stirred her to interference. At any rate, she could + call and see the unhappy woman; and though Tyrrel was opposed to the + visit, and thought it every way unwise, Ethel was resolved to make it. + “You can drive me there,” she said, “then go and see Justice Manningham + and call for me in half an hour.” And this resolution was strengthened by + a pitiful little note received from Dora just after her decision. “Mostyn + has gone to Thirsk,” it said; “for pity’s sake come and see me about two + o’clock this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + The request was promptly answered. As the clock struck two Ethel crossed + the threshold of the home that might have been hers. She shuddered at the + thought. The atmosphere of the house was full of fear and gloom, the + furniture dark and shabby, and she fancied the wraiths of old forgotten + crimes and sorrows were gliding about the sad, dim rooms and stairways. + Dora rose in a passion of tears to welcome her, and because time was short + instantly began her pitiful story. + </p> + <p> + “You know how he adored me once,” she said; “would you believe it, Ethel, + we were not two weeks married when he began to hate me. He dragged me + through Europe in blazing heat and blinding snows when I was sick and + unfit to move. He brought me here in the depth of winter, and when no one + called on us he blamed me; and from morning till night, and sometimes all + night long, he taunts and torments me. After he heard that you had bought + the Manor he lost all control of himself. He will not let me sleep. He + walks the floor hour after hour, declaring he could have had you and the + finest manor in England but for a cat-faced woman like me. And he blames + me for poor Basil’s death—says we murdered him together, and that he + sees blood on my hands.” And she looked with terror at her small, thin + hands, and held them up as if to protest against the charge. When she next + spoke it was to sob out, “Poor Basil! He would pity me! He would help me! + He would forgive me! He knows now that Mostyn was, and is, my evil + genius.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not cry so bitterly, Dora, it hurts me. Let us think. Is there nothing + you can do?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to go to mother.” Then she drew Ethel’s head close to her and + whispered a few words, and Ethel answered, “You poor little one, you shall + go to your mother. Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + “She will be in London next week, and I must see her. He will not let me + go, but go I must if I die for it. Mrs. John Thomas Rawdon told me what to + do, and I have been following her advice.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel did not ask what it was, but added, + </p> + <p> + “If Tyrrel and I can help you, send for us. We will come. And, Dora, do + stop weeping, and be brave. Remember you are an American woman. Your + father has often told me how you could ride with Indians or cowboys and + shoot with any miner in Colorado. A bully like Mostyn is always a coward. + Lift up your heart and stand for every one of your rights. You will find + plenty of friends to stand with you.” And with the words she took her by + the hands and raised her to her feet, and looked at her with such a + beaming, courageous smile that Dora caught its spirit, and promised to + insist on her claims for rest and sleep. + </p> + <p> + “When shall I come again, Dora?” + </p> + <p> + “Not till I send for you. Mother will be in London next Wednesday at the + Savoy. I intend to leave here Wednesday some time, and may need you; will + you come?” + </p> + <p> + “Surely, both Tyrrel and I.” + </p> + <p> + Then the time being on a dangerous line they parted. But Ethel could think + of nothing and talk of nothing but the frightful change in her friend, and + the unceasing misery which had produced it. Tyrrel shared all her + indignation. The slow torture of any creature was an intolerable crime in + his eyes, but when the brutality was exercised on a woman, and on a + countrywoman, he was roused to the highest pitch of indignation. When + Wednesday arrived he did not leave the house, but waited with Ethel for + the message they confidently expected. It came about five o’clock—urgent, + imperative, entreating, “Come, for God’s sake! He will kill me.” + </p> + <p> + The carriage was ready, and in half an hour they were at Mostyn Hall. No + one answered their summons, but as they stood listening and waiting, a + shrill cry of pain and anger pierced the silence. It was followed by loud + voices and a confused noise—noise of many talking and exclaiming. + Then Tyrrel no longer hesitated. He opened the door easily, and taking + Ethel on his arm, suddenly entered the parlor from which the clamor came. + Dora stood in the center of the room like an enraged pythoness, her eyes + blazing with passion. + </p> + <p> + “See!” she cried as Tyrrel entered the room—“see!” And she held out + her arm, and pointed to her shoulder from which the lace hung in shreds, + showing the white flesh, red and bruised, where Mostyn had gripped her. + Then Tyrrel turned to Mostyn, who was held tightly in the grasp of his + gardener and coachman, and foaming with a rage that rendered his + explanation almost inarticulate, especially as the three women servants + gathered around their mistress added their railing and invectives to the + general confusion. + </p> + <p> + “The witch! The cat-faced woman!” he screamed. “She wants to go to her + mother! Wants to play the trick she killed Basil Stanhope with! She shall + not! She shall not! I will kill her first! She is mad! I will send her to + an asylum! She is a little devil! I will send her to hell! Nothing is bad + enough—nothing——” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Mostyn,” said Tyrrel. + </p> + <p> + “Out of my house! What are you doing here? Away! This is my house! Out of + it immediately!” + </p> + <p> + “This man is insane,” said Tyrrel to Dora. “Put on your hat and cloak, and + come home with us.” + </p> + <p> + “I am waiting for Justice Manningham,” she answered with a calm subsidence + of passion that angered Mostyn more than her reproaches. “I have sent for + him. He will be here in five minutes now. That brute”—pointing to + Mostyn—“must be kept under guard till I reach my mother. The + magistrate will bring a couple of constables with him.” + </p> + <p> + “This is a plot, then! You hear it! You! You, Tyrrel Rawdon, and you, + Saint Ethel, are in it, all here on time. A plot, I say! Let me loose that + I may strangle the cat-faced creature. Look at her hands, they are already + bloody!” + </p> + <p> + At these words Dora began to sob passionately, the servants, one and all, + to comfort her, or to abuse Mostyn, and in the height of the hubbub + Justice Manningham entered with two constables behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Take charge of Mr. Mostyn,” he said to them, and as they laid their big + hands on his shoulders the Justice added, “You will consider yourself + under arrest, Mr. Mostyn.” + </p> + <p> + And when nothing else could cow Mostyn, he was cowed by the law. He sank + almost fainting into his chair, and the Justice listened to Dora’s story, + and looked indignantly at the brutal man, when she showed him her torn + dress and bruised shoulder. “I entreat your Honor,” she said, “to permit + me to go to my mother who is now in London.” And he answered kindly, “You + shall go. You are in a condition only a mother can help and comfort. As + soon as I have taken your deposition you shall go.” + </p> + <p> + No one paid any attention to Mostyn’s disclaimers and denials. The Justice + saw the state of affairs. Squire Rawdon and Mrs. Rawdon testified to + Dora’s ill-usage; the butler, the coachman, the stablemen, the cook, the + housemaids were all eager to bear witness to the same; and Mrs. Mostyn’s + appearance was too eloquent a plea for any humane man to deny her the + mother-help she asked for. + </p> + <p> + Though neighbors and members of the same hunt and clubs, the Justice took + no more friendly notice of Mostyn than he would have taken of any + wife-beating cotton-weaver; and when all lawful preliminaries had been + arranged, he told Mrs. Mostyn that he should not take up Mr. Mostyn’s case + till Friday; and in the interval she would have time to put herself under + her mother’s care. She thanked him, weeping, and in her old, pretty way + kissed his hands, and “vowed he had saved her life, and she would forever + remember his goodness.” Mostyn mocked at her “play-acting,” and was + sternly reproved by the Justice; and then Tyrrel and Ethel took charge of + Mrs. Mostyn until she was ready to leave for London. + </p> + <p> + She was more nearly ready than they expected. All her trunks were packed, + and the butler promised to take them immediately to the railway station. + In a quarter of an hour she appeared in traveling costume, with her jewels + in a bag, which she carried in her hand. There was a train for London + passing Monk-Rawdon at eight o’clock; and after Justice Manningham had + left, the cook brought in some dinner, which Dora asked the Rawdons to + share with her. It was, perhaps, a necessary but a painful meal. No one + noticed Mostyn. He was enforced to sit still and watch its progress, which + he accompanied with curses it would be a kind of sacrilege to write down. + But no one answered him, and no one noticed the orders he gave for his own + dinner, until Dora rose to leave forever the house of bondage. Then she + said to the cook: + </p> + <p> + “See that those gentlemanly constables have something good to eat and to + drink, and when they have been served you may give that man”—pointing + to Mostyn—“the dinner of bread and water he has so often prescribed + for me. After my train leaves you are all free to go to your own homes. + Farewell, friends!” + </p> + <p> + Then Mostyn raved again, and finally tried his old loving terms. “Come + back to me, Dora,” he called frantically. “Come back, dearest, sweetest + Dora, I will be your lover forever. I will never say another cross word to + you.” + </p> + <p> + But Dora heard not and saw not. She left the room without a glance at the + man sitting cowering between the officers, and blubbering with shame and + passion and the sense of total loss. In a few minutes he heard the Rawdon + carriage drive to the door. Tyrrel and Ethel assisted Dora into it, and + the party drove at once to the railway station. They were just able to + catch the London train. The butler came up to report all the trunks safely + forwarded, and Dora dropped gold into his hand, and bade him clear the + house of servants as soon as the morning broke. Fortunately there was no + time for last words and promises; the train began to move, and Tyrrel and + Ethel, after watching Dora’s white face glide into the darkness, turned + silently away. That depression which so often follows the lifting of + burdens not intended for our shoulders weighed on their hearts and made + speech difficult. Tyrrel was especially affected by it. A quick feeling of + something like sympathy for Mostyn would not be reasoned away, and he drew + Ethel close within his arm, and gave the coachman an order to drive home + as quickly as possible, for twilight was already becoming night, and under + the trees the darkness felt oppressive. + </p> + <p> + The little fire on the hearth and their belated dinner somewhat relieved + the tension; but it was not until they had retired to a small parlor, and + Tyrrel had smoked a cigar, that the tragedy of the evening became a + possible topic of conversation. Tyrrel opened the subject by a question as + to whether “he ought to have gone with Dora to London.” + </p> + <p> + “Dora opposed the idea strongly when I named it to her,” answered Ethel. + “She said it would give opportunities for Mostyn to slander both herself + and you, and I think she was correct. Every way she was best alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, but I feel as if I ought to have gone, as if I had been + something less than a gentleman; in fact, as if I had been very + un-gentle.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no need,” answered Ethel a little coldly. + </p> + <p> + “It is a terrible position for Mostyn.” + </p> + <p> + “He deserves it.” + </p> + <p> + “He is so sensitive about public opinion.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case he should behave decently in private.” + </p> + <p> + Then Tyrrel lit another cigar, and there was another silence, which Ethel + occupied in irritating thoughts of Dora’s unfortunate fatality in + trouble-making. She sat at a little table standing between herself and + Tyrrel. It held his smoking utensils, and after awhile she pushed them + aside, and let the splendid rings which adorned her hand fall into the + cleared space. Tyrrel watched her a few moments, and then asked, “What are + you doing, Ethel, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + She looked up with a smile, and then down at the hand she had laid open + upon the table. “I am looking at the Ring of all Rings. See, Tyrrel, it is + but a little band of gold, and yet it gave me more than all the gems of + earth could buy. Rubies and opals and sapphires are only its guard. The + simple wedding ring is the ring of great price. It is the loveliest + ornament a happy woman can wear.” + </p> + <p> + Tyrrel took her hand and kissed it, and kissed the golden band, and then + answered, “Truly an ornament if a happy wife wears it; but oh, Ethel, what + is it when it binds a woman to such misery as Dora has just fled from?” + </p> + <p> + “Then it is a fetter, and a woman who has a particle of self-respect will + break it. The Ring of all Rings!” she ejaculated again, as she lifted the + rubies and opals, and slowly but smilingly encircled the little gold band. + </p> + <p> + “Let us try now to forget that sorrowful woman,” said Tyrrel. “She will be + with her mother in a few hours. Mother-love can cure all griefs. It never + fails. It never blames. It never grows weary. It is always young and warm + and true. Dora will be comforted. Let us forget; we can do no more.” + </p> + <p> + For a couple of days this was possible, but then came Mrs. Nicholas + Rawdon, and the subject was perforce opened. “It was a bad case,” she + said, “but it is being settled as quickly and as quietly as possible. I + believe the man has entered into some sort of recognizance to keep the + peace, and has disappeared. No one will look for him. The gentry are + against pulling one another down in any way, and this affair they don’t + want talked about. Being all of them married men, it isn’t to be expected, + is it? Justice Manningham was very sorry for the little lady, but he said + also ‘it was a bad precedent, and ought not to be discussed.’ And Squire + Bentley said, ‘If English gentlemen would marry American women, they must + put up with American women’s ways,’ and so on. None of them think it + prudent to approve Mrs. Mostyn’s course. But they won’t get off as easy as + they think. The women are standing up for her. Did you ever hear anything + like that? And I’ll warrant some husbands are none so easy in their minds, + as my Nicholas said, ‘Mrs. Mostyn had sown seed that would be seen and + heard tell of for many a long day.’ Our Lucy, I suspect, had more to do + with the move than she will confess. She got a lot of new, queer notions + at college, and I do believe in my heart she set the poor woman up to the + business. John Thomas, of course, says not a word, but he looks at Lucy in + a very proud kind of way; and I’ll be bound he has got an object lesson + he’ll remember as long as he lives. So has Nicholas, though he bluffs more + than a little as to what he’d do with a wife that got a running-away + notion into her head. Bless you, dear, they are all formulating their laws + on the subject, and their wives are smiling queerly at them, and holding + their heads a bit higher than usual. I’ve been doing it myself, so I know + how they feel.” + </p> + <p> + Thus, though very little was said in the newspapers about the affair, the + notoriety Mostyn dreaded was complete and thorough. It was the private + topic of conversation in every household. Men talked it over in all the + places where men met, and women hired the old Mostyn servants in order to + get the very surest and latest story of the poor wife’s wrongs, and then + compared reports and even discussed the circumstances in their own + particular clubs. + </p> + <p> + At the Court, Tyrrel and Ethel tried to forget, and their own interests + were so many and so important that they usually succeeded; especially + after a few lines from Mrs. Denning assured them of Dora’s safety and + comfort. And for many weeks the busy life of the Manor sufficed; there was + the hay to cut in the meadow lands, and after it the wheat fields to + harvest. The stables, the kennels, the farms and timber, the park and the + garden kept Tyrrel constantly busy. And to these duties were added the + social ones, the dining and dancing and entertaining, the horse racing, + the regattas, and the enthusiasm which automobiling in its first fever + engenders. + </p> + <p> + And yet there were times when Tyrrel looked bored, and when nothing but + Squire Percival’s organ or Ethel’s piano seemed to exorcise the unrest and + ennui that could not be hid. Ethel watched these moods with a wise and + kind curiosity, and in the beginning of September, when they perceptibly + increased, she asked one day, “Are you happy, Tyrrel? Quite happy?” + </p> + <p> + “I am having a splendid holiday,” he answered, “but——” + </p> + <p> + “But what, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “One could not turn life into a long holiday—that would be harder + than the hardest work.” + </p> + <p> + She answered “Yes,” and as soon as she was alone fell to thinking, and in + the midst of her meditation Mrs. Nicholas Rawdon entered in a whirl of + tempestuous delight. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think?” she asked between laughing and crying. “Whatever do + you think? Our Lucy had twins yesterday, two fine boys as ever was. And I + wish you could see their grandfather and their father. They are out of + themselves with joy. They stand hour after hour beside the two cradles, + looking at the little fellows, and they nearly came to words this morning + about their names.” + </p> + <p> + “I am so delighted!” cried Ethel. “And what are you going to call them?” + </p> + <p> + “One is an hour older than the other, and John Thomas wanted them called + Percival and Nicholas. But my Nicholas wanted the eldest called after + himself, and he said so plain enough. And John Thomas said ‘he could + surely name his own sons; and then Nicholas told him to remember he + wouldn’t have been here to have any sons at all but for his father.’ And + just then I came into the room to have a look at the little lads, and when + I heard what they were fratching about, I told them it was none of their + business, that Lucy had the right to name the children, and they would + just have to put up with the names she gave them.” + </p> + <p> + “And has Lucy named them?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure. I went right away to her and explained the dilemma, and I + said, ‘Now, Lucy, it is your place to settle this question.’ And she + answered in her positive little way, ‘You tell father the eldest is to be + called Nicholas, and tell John Thomas the youngest is to be called John + Thomas. I can manage two of that name very well. And say that I won’t have + any more disputing about names, the boys are as good as christened + already.’ And of course when Lucy said that we all knew it was settled. + And I’m glad the eldest is Nicholas. He is a fine, sturdy little + Yorkshireman, bawling out already for what he wants, and flying into a + temper if he doesn’t get it as soon as he wants it. Dearie me, Ethel, I am + a proud woman this morning. And Nicholas is going to give all the hands a + holiday, and a trip up to Ambleside on Saturday, though John Thomas is + very much against it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is he against it?” + </p> + <p> + “He says they will be holding a meeting on Monday night to try and find + out what Old Nicholas is up to, and that if he doesn’t give them the same + treat on the same date next year, they’ll hold an indignation meeting + about being swindled out of their rights. And I’ll pledge you my word John + Thomas knows the men he’s talking about. However, Nicholas is close with + his money, and it will do him good happen to lose a bit. Blood-letting is + healthy for the body, and perhaps gold-letting may help the soul more than + we think for.” + </p> + <p> + This news stimulated Ethel’s thinking, and when she also stood beside the + two cradles, and the little Nicholas opened his big blue eyes and began to + “bawl for what he wanted,” a certain idea took fast hold of her, and she + nursed it silently for the next month, watch-ing Tyrrel at the same time. + It was near October, however, before she found the proper opportunity for + speaking. There had been a long letter from the Judge. It said Ruth and he + were home again after a wonderful trip over the Northern Pacific road. He + wrote with enthusiasm of the country and its opportunities, and of the big + cities they had visited on their return from the Pacific coast. Every word + was alive, the magnitude and stir of traffic and wrestling humanity seemed + to rustle the paper. He described New York as overflowing with business. + His own plans, the plans of others, the jar of politics, the thrill of + music and the drama—all the multitudinous vitality that crowded the + streets and filled the air, even to the roofs of the twenty-story + buildings, contributed to the potent exhilaration of the letter. + </p> + <p> + “Great George!” exclaimed Tyrrel. “That is life! That is living! I wish we + were back in America!” + </p> + <p> + “So do I, Tyrrel.” + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad. When shall we go? It is now the twenty-eighth of + September.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you very weary of Rawdon Court”’ + </p> + <p> + “Yes. If a man could live for the sake of eating and sleeping and having a + pleasant time, why Rawdon Court would be a heaven to him; but if he wants + to DO something with his life, he would be most unhappy here.” + </p> + <p> + “And you want to do something?” + </p> + <p> + “You would not have loved a man who did not want TO DO. We have been here + four months. Think of it! If I take four months out of every year for + twenty years, I shall lose, with travel, about seven years of my life, and + the other things to be dropped with them may be of incalculable value.” + </p> + <p> + “I see, Tyrrel. I am not bound in any way to keep Rawdon Court. I can sell + it to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “But you would be grieved to do so?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. Being a lady of the Manor does not flatter me. The other + squires would rather have a good man in my place.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you buy it?” + </p> + <p> + “As I have told you, to keep Mostyn out, and to keep a Rawdon here. But + Nicholas Rawdon craves the place, and will pay well for his desire. It + cost me eighty thousand pounds. He told father he would gladly give me one + hundred thousand pounds whenever I was tired of my bargain. I will take + the hundred thousand pounds to-morrow. There would then be four good heirs + to Rawdon on the place.” + </p> + <p> + Here the conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Nicholas, who came to invite + them to the christening feast of the twins. Tyrrel soon left the ladies + together, and Ethel at once opened the desired conversation. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid we may have left the Court before the christening,” she said. + “Mr. Rawdon is very unhappy here. He is really homesick.” + </p> + <p> + “But this is his home, isn’t it? And a very fine one.” + </p> + <p> + “He cannot feel it so. He has large interests in America. I doubt if I + ever induce him to come here again. You see, this visit has been our + marriage trip.” + </p> + <p> + “And you won’t live here! I never heard the line. What will you do with + the Court? It will be badly used if it is left to servants seven or eight + months every year.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I must sell it. I see no——” + </p> + <p> + “If you only would let Nicholas buy it. You might be sure then it would be + well cared for, and the little lads growing up in it, who would finally + heir it. Oh, Ethel, if you would think of Nicholas first. He would honor + the place and be an honor to it.” + </p> + <p> + Out of this conversation the outcome was as satisfactory as it was + certain, and within two weeks Nicholas Rawdon was Squire of Rawdon Manor, + and possessor of the famous old Manor House. Then there followed a busy + two weeks for Tyrrel, who had the superintendence of the packing, which + was no light business. For though Ethel would not denude the Court of its + ancient furniture and ornaments, there were many things belonging to the + personal estate of the late Squire which had been given to her by his + will, and could not be left behind. But by the end of October cases and + trunks were all sent off to the steamship in which their passage was + taken; and the Rawdon estate, which had played such a momentous part in + Ethel’s life having finished its mission, had no further influence, and + without regret passed out of her physical life forever. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, their willingness to resign all claims to the old home was a + marvel to both Tyrrel and Ethel. On their last afternoon there they walked + through the garden, and stood under the plane tree where their vows of + love had been pledged, and smiled and wondered at their indifference. The + beauteous glamor of first love was gone as completely as the flowers and + scents and songs that had then filled the charming place. But amid the + sweet decay of these things they once more clasped hands, looking with + supreme confidence into each other’s eyes. All that had then been promised + was now certain; and with an affection infinitely sweeter and surer, + Tyrrel drew Ethel to his heart, and on her lips kissed the tenderest, + proudest words a woman hears, “My dear wife!” + </p> + <p> + This visit was their last adieu, all the rest had been said, and early the + next morning they left Monk-Rawdon station as quietly as they had arrived. + During their short reign at Rawdon Court they had been very popular, and + perhaps their resignation was equally so. After all, they were foreigners, + and Nicholas Rawdon was Yorkshire, root and branch. + </p> + <p> + “Nice young people,” said Justice Manningham at a hunt dinner, “but our + ways are not their ways, nor like to be. The young man was born a fighter, + and there are neither bears nor Indians here for him to fight; and our + politics are Greek to him; and the lady, very sweet and beautiful, but + full of new ideas—ideas not suitable for women, and we do not wish + our women changed.” + </p> + <p> + “Good enough as they are,” mumbled Squire Oakes. + </p> + <p> + “Nicest Americans I ever met,” added Earl Danvers, “but Nicholas Rawdon + will be better at Rawdon Court.” To which statement there was a general + assent, and then the subject was considered settled. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime Tyrrel and Ethel had reached London and gone to the + Metropole Hotel; because, as Ethel said, no one knew where Dora was; but + if in England, she was likely to be at the Savoy. They were to be two days + in London. Tyrrel had banking and other business to fully occupy the time, + and Ethel remembered she had some shopping to do, a thing any woman would + discover if she found herself in the neighborhood of Regent Street and + Piccadilly. On the afternoon of the second day this duty was finished, and + she returned to her hotel satisfied but a little weary. As she was going + up the steps she noticed a woman coming slowly down them. It was Dora + Mostyn. They met with great enthusiasm on Dora’s part, and she turned back + and went with Ethel to her room. + </p> + <p> + Ethel looked at her with astonishment. She was not like any Dora she had + previously seen. Her beauty had developed wondrously, she had grown much + taller, and her childish manner had been superseded by a carriage and air + of superb grace and dignity. She had now a fine color, and her eyes were + darker, softer, and more dreamy than ever. “Take off your hat, Dora,” said + Ethel, “and tell me what has happened. You are positively splendid. Where + is Mr. Mostyn?” + </p> + <p> + “I neither know nor care. He is tramping round the world after me, and I + intend to keep him at it. But I forget. I must tell you how THAT has come + about.” + </p> + <p> + “We heard from Mrs. Denning. She said she had received you safely.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear mother! She met me like an angel; comforted and cared for me, + never said one word of blame, only kissed and pitied me. We talked things + over, and she advised me to go to New York. So we took three passages + under the names of Mrs. John Gifford, Miss Gifford, and Miss Diana + Gifford. Miss Diana was my maid, but mother thought a party of three would + throw Mostyn off our track.” + </p> + <p> + “A very good idea.” + </p> + <p> + “We sailed at once. On the second day out I had a son. The poor little + fellow died in a few hours, and was buried at sea. But his birth has given + me the power to repay to Fred Mostyn some of the misery he caused me.” + </p> + <p> + “How so? I do not see.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you must see, if you will only remember how crazy Englishmen are + about their sons. Daughters don’t count, you know, but a son carries the + property in the family name. He is its representative for the next + generation. As I lay suffering and weeping, a fine scheme of revenge came + clearly to me. Listen! Soon after we got home mother cabled Mostyn’s + lawyer that ‘Mrs. Mostyn had had a son.’ Nothing was said of the boy’s + death. Almost immediately I was notified that Mr. Mostyn would insist on + the surrender of the child to his care. I took no notice of the letters. + Then he sent his lawyer to claim the child and a woman to take care of it. + I laughed them to scorn, and defied them to find the child. After them + came Mostyn himself. He interviewed doctors, overlooked baptismal + registers, advertised far and wide, bribed our servants, bearded father in + his office, abused Bryce on the avenue, waylaid me in all my usual + resorts, and bombarded me with letters, but he knows no more yet than the + cable told him. And the man is becoming a monomaniac about HIS SON.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you doing right, Dora?” + </p> + <p> + “If you only knew how he had tortured me! Father and mother think he + deserves all I can do to him. Anyway, he will have it to bear. If he goes + to the asylum he threatened me with, I shall be barely satisfied. The + ‘cat-faced woman’ is getting her innings now.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you never spoken to him or written to him? Surely” + </p> + <p> + “He caught me one day as I came out of our house, and said, ‘Madam, where + is my son?’ And I answered, ‘You have no son. The child WAS MINE. You + shall never see his face in this world. I have taken good care of that.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I will find him some day,’ he said, and I laughed at him, and answered, + ‘He is too cunningly hid. Do you think I would let the boy know he had + such a father as you? No, indeed. Not unless there was property for the + disgrace.’ I touched him on the raw in that remark, and then I got into my + carriage and told the coachman to drive quickly. Mostyn attempted to + follow me, but the whip lashing the horses was in the way.” And Dora + laughed, and the laugh was cruel and mocking and full of meaning. + </p> + <p> + “Dora, how can you? How can you find pleasure in such revenges?” + </p> + <p> + “I am having the greatest satisfaction of my life. And I am only beginning + the just retribution, for my beauty is enthralling the man again, and he + is on the road to a mad jealousy of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you get a divorce? This is a case for that remedy. He might + then marry again, and you also.” + </p> + <p> + “Even so, I should still torment him. If he had sons he would be miserable + in the thought that his unknown son might, on his death, take from them + the precious Mostyn estate, and that wretched, old, haunted house of his. + I am binding him to misery on every hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Is Mrs. Denning here with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Both my father and mother are with me. Father is going to take a year’s + rest, and we shall visit Berlin, Vienna, Rome, Paris or wherever our fancy + leads us.” + </p> + <p> + “And Mr. Mostyn?” + </p> + <p> + “He can follow me round, and see nobles and princes and kings pay court to + the beauty of the ‘cat-faced woman.’ I shall never notice him, never speak + to him; but you need not look so suspicious, Ethel. Neither by word nor + deed will I break a single convention of the strictest respectability.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Mostyn ought to give you your freedom.” + </p> + <p> + “I have given freedom to myself. I have already divorced him. When they + brought my dead baby for me to kiss, I slipped into its little hand the + ring that made me his mother. They went to the bottom of the sea together. + As for ever marrying again, not in this life. I have had enough of it. My + first husband was the sweetest saint out of heaven, and my second was some + mean little demon that had sneaked his way out of hell; and I found both + insupportable.” She lifted her hat as she spoke, and began to pin it on + her beautifully dressed hair. “Have no fear for me,” she continued. “I am + sure Basil watches over me. Some day I shall be good, and he will be + happy.” Then, hand in hand, they walked to the door together, and there + were tears in both voices as they softly said “Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + A WEEK after this interview Tyrrel and Ethel were in New York. They landed + early in the morning, but the Judge and Ruth were on the pier to meet + them; and they breakfasted together at the fashionable hotel, where an + elegant suite had been reserved for the residence of the Tyrrel-Rawdons + until they had perfected their plans for the future. Tyrrel was boyishly + excited, but Ethel’s interest could not leave her father and his new wife. + These two had lived in the same home for fifteen years, and then they had + married each other, and both of them looked fifteen years younger. The + Judge was actually merry, and Ruth, in spite of her supposed “docility,” + had quite reversed the situation. It was the Judge who was now docile, and + even admiringly obedient to all Ruth’s wifely advices and admonitions. + </p> + <p> + The breakfast was a talkative, tardy one, but at length the Judge went to + his office and Tyrrel had to go to the Custom House. Ethel was eager to + see her grandmother, and she was sure the dear old lady was anxiously + waiting her arrival. And Ruth was just as anxious for Ethel to visit her + renovated home. She had the young wife’s delight in its beauty, and she + wanted Ethel to admire it with her. + </p> + <p> + “We will dine with you to-morrow, Ruth,” said Ethel, “and I will come very + early and see all the improvements. I feel sure the house is lovely, and I + am glad father made you such a pretty nest. Nothing is too pretty for you, + Ruth.” And there was no insincerity in this compliment. These two women + knew and loved and trusted each other without a shadow of doubt or + variableness. + </p> + <p> + So Ruth went to her home, and Ethel hastened to Gramercy Park. Madam was + eagerly watching for her arrival. + </p> + <p> + “I have been impatient for a whole hour, all in a quiver, dearie,” she + cried. “It is nearly noon.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been impatient also, Granny, but father and Ruth met us at the + pier and stayed to breakfast with us, and you know how men talk and talk.” + </p> + <p> + “Ruth and father down at the pier! How you dream!” + </p> + <p> + “They were really there. And they do seem so happy, grandmother. They are + so much in love with each other.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say. There are no fools like old fools. So you have sold the Court + to Nicholas Rawdon, and a cotton-spinner is Lord of the Manor. Well, well, + how are the mighty fallen!” + </p> + <p> + “I made twenty thousand pounds by the sale. Nicholas Rawdon is a + gentleman, and John Thomas is the most popular man in all the + neighborhood. And, Granny, he has two sons—twins—the + handsomest little chaps you ever saw. No fear of a Rawdon to heir the + Manor now.” + </p> + <p> + “Fortune is a baggage. When she is ill to a man she knows no reason. She + sent John Thomas to Parliament, and kept Fred out at a loss, too. She took + the Court from Fred and gave it to John Thomas, and she gives him two sons + about the same time she gives Fred one, and that one she kidnaps out of + his sight and knowledge. Poor Fred!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, grandmother, it is ‘poor Fred’s’ own doing, and, I assure you, Fred + would have been most unwelcome at the Court. And the squires and gentry + round did not like a woman in the place; they were at a loss what to do + with me. I was no good for dinners and politics and hunting. I embarrassed + them.” “Of course you would. They would have to talk decently and behave + politely, and they would not be able to tell their choicest stories. Your + presence would be a bore; but could not Tyrrel take your place?” + </p> + <p> + “Granny, Tyrrel was really unhappy in that kind of life. And he was a + foreigner, so was I. You know what Yorkshire people think of foreigners. + They were very courteous, but they were glad to have the Yorkshire Rawdons + in our place. And Tyrrel did not like working with the earth; he loves + machinery and electricity.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure. When a man has got used to delving for gold or silver, + cutting grass and wheat does seem a slow kind of business.” + </p> + <p> + “And he disliked the shut-up feeling the park gave him. He said we were in + the midst of solitude three miles thick. It made him depressed and + lonely.” + </p> + <p> + “That is nonsense. I am sure on the Western plains he had solitude sixty + miles thick—often.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely, but then he had an horizon, even if it were sixty miles + away. And no matter how far he rode, there was always that line where + earth seemed to rise to heaven. But the park was surrounded by a brick + wall fourteen feet high. It had no horizon. You felt as if you were in a + large, green box—at least Tyrrel did. The wall was covered with + roses and ivy, but still it was a boundary you could not pass, and could + not see over. Don’t you understand, Granny, how Tyrrel would feel this?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t say I do. Why didn’t he come with you?” + </p> + <p> + “He had to go to the Customs about our trunks, and there were other + things. He will see you to-morrow. Then we are going to dine with father, + and if you will join us, we will call at six for you. Do, Granny.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, I shall be ready.” But after a moment’s thought she continued, + “No, I will not go. I am only a mortal woman, and the company of angels + bores me yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Granny, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean what I say. Your father has married such a piece of perfection + that I feel my shortcomings in her presence more than I can bear. But I’ll + tell you what, dearie, Tyrrel may come for me Saturday night at six, and I + will have my dinner with you. I want to see the dining-room of a swell + hotel in full dress; and I will wear my violet satin and white Spanish + lace, and look as smart as can be, dear. And Tyrrel may buy me a bunch of + white violets. I am none too old to wear them. Who knows but I may go to + the theater also?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Granny, you are just the dearest young lady I know! Tyrrel will be as + proud as a peacock.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am not as young as I might be, but I am a deal younger than I + look. Listen, dearie, I have never FELT old yet! Isn’t that a thing to be + grateful for? I don’t read much poetry, except it be in the Church Hymnal, + but I cut a verse out of a magazine a year ago which just suits my idea of + life, and, what is still more wonderful, I took the trouble to learn it. + Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote it, and I’ll warrant him for a good, cheerful, + trust-in-God man, or he’d never have thought of such sensible words.” + </p> + <p> + “I am listening, Granny, for the verse.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and learn it yourself. It will come in handy some day, when Tyrrel + and you are getting white-haired and handsome, as everyone ought to get + when they have passed their half-century and are facing the light of the + heavenly world: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “At sixty-two life has begun; + At seventy-three begins once more; + Fly swifter as thou near’st the sun, + And brighter shine at eighty-four. + At ninety-five, + Should thou arrive, + Still wait on God, and work and thrive.” + </pre> + <p> + Such words as those, Ethel, keep a woman young, and make her right glad + that she was born and thankful that she lives.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for them, dear Granny. Now I must run away as fast as I can. + Tyrrel will be wondering what has happened to me.” + </p> + <p> + In this conjecture she was right. Tyrrel was in evening dress, and walking + restlessly about their private parlor. “Ethel,” he said, plaintively, “I + have been so uneasy about you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am all right, dearest. I was with grandmother. I shall be ready in half + an hour.” + </p> + <p> + Even if she had been longer, she would have earned the delay, for she + returned to him in pink silk and old Venice point de rose, with a pretty + ermine tippet across her shoulders. It was a joy to see her, a delight to + hear her speak, and she walked as if she heard music. The dining-room was + crowded when they entered, but they made a sensation. Many rose and came + to welcome them home. Others smiled across the busy space and lifted their + wineglass in recognition. The room was electric, sensitive and excited. It + was flooded with a soft light; it was full of the perfume of flowers. The + brilliant coloring of silks and satins, and the soft miracle of white lace + blended with the artistically painted walls and roof. The aroma of + delicate food, the tinkle of crystal, the low murmur of happy voices, the + thrill of sudden laughter, and the delicious accompaniment of soft, + sensuous music completed the charm of the room. To eat in such + surroundings was as far beyond the famous flower-crowned feasts of Rome + and Greece as the east is from the west. It was impossible to resist its + influence. From the point of the senses, the soul was drinking life out of + a cup of overflowing delight. And it was only natural that in their hearts + both Tyrrel and Ethel should make a swift, though silent, comparison + between this feast of sensation and flow of human attraction and the + still, sweet order of the Rawdon dining-room, with its noiseless service, + and its latticed win-dows open to all the wandering scents and songs of + the garden. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the latter would have the sweetest and dearest and most abiding + place in their hearts; but just in the present they were enthralled and + excited by the beauty and good comradeship of the social New York dinner + function. Their eyes were shining, their hearts thrilling, they went to + their own apartments hand in hand, buoyant, vivacious, feeling that life + was good and love unchangeable. And the windows being open, they walked to + one and stood looking out upon the avenue. All signs of commerce had gone + from the beautiful street, but it was busy and noisy with the traffic of + pleasure, and the hum of multitudes, the rattle of carriages, the rush of + autos, the light, hurrying footsteps of pleasure-seekers insistently + demanded their sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “We cannot go out to-night,” said Ethel. “We are both more weary than we + know.” + </p> + <p> + “No, we cannot go to-night; but, oh, Ethel, we are in New York again! Is + not that joy enough? I am so happy! I am so happy. We are in New York + again! There is no city like it in all the world. Men live here, they work + here, they enjoy here. How happy, how busy we are going to be, Ethel!” + </p> + <p> + During these joyful, hopeful expectations he was walking up and down the + room, his eyes dilating with rapture, and Ethel closed the window and + joined him. They magnified their joy, they wondered at it, they were sure + no one before them had ever loved as they loved. “And we are going to live + here, Ethel; going to have our home here! Upon my honor, I cannot speak + the joy I feel, but”—and he went impetuously to the piano and opened + it—“but I can perhaps sing it— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘There is not a spot in this wide-peopled earth + So dear to the heart as the Land of our Birth; + ‘Tis the home of our childhood, the beautiful spot + Which Memory retains when all else is forgot. + May the blessing of God ever hallow the sod, + And its valleys and hills by our children be trod! + + “‘May Columbia long lift her white crest o’er the wave, + The birthplace of science and the home of the brave. + In her cities may peace and prosperity dwell, + And her daughters in virtue and beauty excel. + May the blessing of God ever hallow the sod, + And its valleys and hills by our children be trod.’” + </pre> + <p> + With the patriotic music warbling in his throat he turned to Ethel, and + looked at her as a lover can, and she answered the look; and thus leaning + toward each other in visible beauty and affection their new life began. + Between smiles and kisses they sat speaking, not of the past with all its + love and loveliness, but of the high things calling to them from the + future, the work and duties of life set to great ends both for public and + private good. And as they thus communed Tyrrel took his wife’s hand and + slowly turned on her finger the plain gold wedding ring behind its barrier + of guarding gems. + </p> + <p> + “Ethel,” he said tenderly, “what enchantments are in this ring of gold! + What romances I used to weave around it, and, dearest, it has turned every + Romance into Reality.” + </p> + <p> + “And, Tyrrel, it will also turn all our Realities into Romances. Nothing + in our life will ever become common. Love will glorify everything.” + </p> + <p> + “And we shall always love as we love now?” + </p> + <p> + “We shall love far better, far stronger, far more tenderly.” + </p> + <p> + “Even to the end of our lives, Ethel?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to the very end.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + A PAUSE of blissful silence followed this assurance. It was broken by a + little exclamation from Ethel. “Oh, dear,” she said, “how selfishly + thoughtless my happiness makes me! I have forgotten to tell you, until + this moment, that I have a letter from Dora. It was sent to grandmother’s + care, and I got it this afternoon; also one from Lucy Rawdon. The two + together bring Dora’s affairs, I should say, to a pleasanter termination + than we could have hoped for.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is the Enchantress?” + </p> + <p> + “In Paris at present.” + </p> + <p> + “I expected that answer.” + </p> + <p> + “But listen, she is living the quietest of lives; the most devoted + daughter cannot excel her.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she her own authority for that astonishing statement? Do you believe + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, under the circumstances. Mr. Denning went to Paris for a critical + and painful operation, and Dora is giving all her love and time toward + making his convalescence as pleasant as it can be. In fact, her + description of their life in the pretty chateau they have rented outside + of Paris is quite idyllic. When her father is able to travel they are + going to Algiers for the winter, and will return to New York about next + May. Dora says she never intends to leave America again.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is her husband? Keeping watch on the French chateau?” + </p> + <p> + “That is over. Mr. Denning persuaded Dora to write a statement of all the + facts concerning the birth of the child. She told her husband the name + under which they traveled, the names of the ship, the captain, and the + ship’s doctor, and Mrs. Denning authenticated the statement; but, oh, what + a mean, suspicious creature Mostyn is!” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you reiterate that description of him?” + </p> + <p> + “He was quite unable to see any good or kind intent in this paper. He + proved its correctness, and then wrote Mr. Denning a very contemptible + letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Which was characteristic enough. What did he say?” + </p> + <p> + “That the amende honorable was too late; that he supposed Dora wished to + have the divorce proceedings stopped and be reinstated as his wife, but he + desired the whole Denning family to understand that was now impossible; he + was ‘fervently, feverishly awaiting his freedom, which he expected at any + hour.’ He said it was ‘sickening to remember the weariness of body and + soul Dora had given him about a non-existing child, and though this could + never be atoned for, he did think he ought to be refunded the money Dora’s + contemptible revenge had cost him.”’ + </p> + <p> + “How could he? How could he?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course Mr. Denning sent him a check, a pretty large one, I dare say. + And I suppose he has his freedom by this time, unless he has married + again.” + </p> + <p> + “He will never marry again.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, that is the strange part of the story. It was because he wanted + to marry again that he was ‘fervently, feverishly awaiting his freedom.’” + </p> + <p> + “I can hardly believe it, Ethel. What does Dora say?” + </p> + <p> + “I have the news from Lucy. She says when Mostyn was ignored by everyone + in the neighborhood, one woman stood up for him almost passionately. Do + you remember Miss Sadler?” + </p> + <p> + “That remarkable governess of the Surreys? Why, Ethel, she is the very + ugliest woman I ever saw.” + </p> + <p> + “She is so ugly that she is fascinating. If you see her one minute you can + never forget her, and she is brains to her finger tips. She ruled everyone + at Surrey House. She was Lord Surrey’s secretary and Lady Surrey’s + adviser. She educated the children, and they adored her; she ruled the + servants, and they obeyed her with fear and trembling. Nothing was done in + Surrey House without her approval. And if her face was not handsome, she + had a noble presence and a manner that was irresistible.” + </p> + <p> + “And she took Mostyn’s part?” + </p> + <p> + “With enthusiasm. She abused Dora individually, and American women + generally. She pitied Mr. Mostyn, and made others do so; and when she + perceived there would be but a shabby and tardy restoration for him + socially, she advised him to shake off the dust of his feet from + Monk-Rawdon, and begin life in some more civilized place. And in order + that he might do so, she induced Lord Surrey to get him a very excellent + civil appointment in Calcutta.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he is going to India?” + </p> + <p> + “He is probably now on the way there. He sold the Mostyn estate——” + </p> + <p> + “I can hardly believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “He sold it to John Thomas Rawdon. John Thomas told me it belonged to + Rawdon until the middle of the seventeenth century, and he meant to have + it back. He has got it.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Sadler must be a witch.” + </p> + <p> + “She is a sensible, practical woman, who knows how to manage men. She has + soothed Mostyn’s wounded pride with appreciative flattery and stimulated + his ambition. She has promised him great things in India, and she will see + that he gets them.” + </p> + <p> + “He must be completely under her control.” + </p> + <p> + “She will never let him call his soul his own, but she will manage his + affairs to perfection. And Dora is forever rid of that wretched influence. + The man can never again come between her and her love; never again come + between her and happiness. There will be the circumference of the world as + a barrier.” + </p> + <p> + “There will be Jane Sadler as a barrier. She will be sufficient. The Woman + Between will annihilate The Man Between. Dora is now safe. What will she + do with herself?” + </p> + <p> + “She will come back to New York and be a social power. She is young, + beautiful, rich, and her father has tremendous financial influence. Social + affairs are ruled by finance. I should not wonder to see her in St. + Jude’s, a devotee and eminent for good works.” + </p> + <p> + “And if Basil Stanhope should return?” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Basil—he is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that?” + </p> + <p> + “What DO you mean, Tyrrel?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure Basil is dead? What proof have you?” + </p> + <p> + “You must be dreaming! Of course he is dead! His friend came and told me + so—told me everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” + </p> + <p> + “There were notices in the papers.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Denning must have known it when he stopped divorce proceedings.” + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless he believed it; he wished to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Tyrrel, tell me what you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “I always wondered about his death rather than believed in it. Basil had a + consuming sense of honor and affection for the Church and its sacred + offices. He would have died willingly rather than drag them into the mire + of a divorce court. When the fear became certainty he disappeared—really + died to all his previous life.” + </p> + <p> + “But I cannot conceive of Basil lying for any purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “He disappeared. His family and friends took on themselves the means they + thought most likely to make that disappearance a finality.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you heard anything, seen anything?” + </p> + <p> + “One night just before I left the West a traveler asked me for a night’s + lodging. He had been prospecting in British America in the region of the + Klondike, and was full of incidental conversation. Among many other things + he told me of a wonderful sermon he had heard from a young man in a large + mining camp. I did not give the story any attention at the time, but after + he had gone away it came to me like a flash of light that the preacher was + Basil Stanhope.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Tyrrel, if it was—if it was! What a beautiful dream! But it is + only a dream. If it could be true, would he forgive Dora? Would he come + back to her?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” Tyrrel’s voice was positive and even stern. “No, he could never come + back to her. She might go to him. She left him without any reason. I do + not think he would care to see her again.” + </p> + <p> + “I would say no more, Tyrrel. I do not think as you do. It is a dream, a + fancy, just an imagination. But if it were true, Basil would wish no + pilgrimage of abasement. He would say to her, ‘Dear one, HUSH! Love is + here, travel-stained, sore and weary, but so happy to welcome you!’ And he + would open all his great, sweet heart to her. May I tell Dora some day + what you have thought and said? It will be something good for her to dream + about.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think she cares? Did she ever love him?” + </p> + <p> + “He was her first love. She loved him once with all her heart. If it would + be right—safe, I mean, to tell Dora——” + </p> + <p> + “On this subject there is so much NOT to say. I would never speak of it.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be a truth” + </p> + <p> + “Then it is among those truths that should be held back, and it is likely + only a trick of my imagination, a supposition, a fancy.” + </p> + <p> + “A miracle! And of two miracles I prefer the least, and that is that Basil + is dead. Your young preacher is a dream; and, oh, Tyrrel, I am so tired! + It has been such a long, long, happy day! I want to sleep. My eyes are + shutting as I talk to you. Such a long, long, happy day!” + </p> + <p> + “And so many long, happy days to come, dearest.” + </p> + <p> + “So many,” she answered, as she took Tyrrel’s hand, and lifted her fur and + fan and gloves. “What were those lines we read together the night before + we were married? I forget, I am so tired. I know that life should have + many a hope and aim, duties enough, and little cares, and now be quiet, + and now astir, till God’s hand beckoned us unawares——” + </p> + <p> + The rest was inaudible. But between that long, happy day and the present + time there has been an arc of life large enough to place the union of + Tyrrel and Ethel Rawdon among those blessed bridals that are + </p> + <p> + “The best of life’s romances.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Man Between, by Amelia E. 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Barr + +Posting Date: July 31, 2008 [EBook #787] +Release Date: January, 1997 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN BETWEEN *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Keller + + + + + +THE MAN BETWEEN + +An International Romance + +By Amelia E. Barr + + + + +PART FIRST -- O LOVE WILL VENTURE IN! + + + + +THE MAN BETWEEN + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE thing that I know least about is my beginning. For it is possible +to introduce Ethel Rawdon in so many picturesque ways that the choice +is embarrassing, and forces me to the conclusion that the actual +circumstances, though commonplace, may be the most suitable. Certainly +the events that shape our lives are seldom ushered in with pomp or +ceremony; they steal upon us unannounced, and begin their work without +giving any premonition of their importance. + +Consequently Ethel had no idea when she returned home one night from +a rather stupid entertainment that she was about to open a new and +important chapter of her life. Hitherto that life had been one of the +sweetest and simplest character--the lessons and sports of childhood +and girlhood had claimed her nineteen years; and Ethel was just at that +wonderful age when, the brook and the river having met, she was feeling +the first swell of those irresistible tides which would carry her day by +day to the haven of all days. + +It was Saturday night in the January of 1900, verging toward twelve +o'clock. When she entered her room, she saw that one of the windows was +open, and she stood a moment or two at it, looking across the straight +miles of white lights, in whose illumined shadows thousands of sleepers +were holding their lives in pause. + +"It is not New York at all," she whispered, "it is some magical city +that I have seen, but have never trod. It will vanish about six o'clock +in the morning, and there will be only common streets, full of common +people. Of course," and here she closed the window and leisurely removed +her opera cloak, "of course, this is only dreaming, but to dream waking, +or to dream sleeping, is very pleasant. In dreams we can have men as we +like them, and women as we want them, and make all the world happy and +beautiful." + +She was in no hurry of feeling or movement. She had been in a crowd for +some hours, and was glad to be quite alone and talk to herself a little. +It was also so restful to gradually relinquish all the restraining gauds +of fashionable attire, and as she leisurely performed these duties, she +entered into conversation with her own heart--talked over with it the +events of the past week, and decided that its fretless days, full of +good things, had been, from the beginning to the end, sweet as a cup of +new milk. For a woman's heart is very talkative, and requires little to +make it eloquent in its own way. + +In the midst of this intimate companionship she turned her head, and +saw two letters lying upon a table. She rose and lifted them. One was an +invitation to a studio reception, and she let it flutter indeterminately +from her hand; the other was both familiar and appealing; none of her +correspondents but Dora Denning used that peculiar shade of blue paper, +and she instantly began to wonder why Dora had written to her. + +"I saw her yesterday afternoon," she reflected, "and she told me +everything she had to tell--and what does she-mean by such a tantalizing +message as this? 'Dearest Ethel: I have the most extraordinary news. +Come to me immediately. Dora.' How exactly like Dora!" she commented. +"Come to me im-mediately--whether you are in bed or asleep--whether +you are sick or well--whether it is midnight or high noon--come to +me immediately. Well, Dora, I am going to sleep now, and to-morrow is +Sunday, and I never know what view father is going to take of Sunday. He +may ask me to go to church with him, and he may not. He may want me to +drive in the afternoon, and again he may not; but Sunday is father's +home day, and Ruth and I make a point of obliging him in regard to it. +That is one of our family principles; and a girl ought to have a few +principles of conduct involving self-denial. Aunt Ruth says, 'Life +cannot stand erect without self-denial,' and aunt is usually right--but +I do wonder what Dora wants! I cannot imagine what extraordinary news +has come. I must try and see her to-morrow--it may be difficult--but I +must make the effort"--and with this satisfying resolution she easily +fell asleep. + +When she awoke the church bells were ringing and she knew that her +father and aunt would have breakfasted. The feet did not trouble her. It +was an accidental sleep-over; she had not planned it, and circumstances +would take care of themselves. In any case, she had no fear of rebuke. +No one was ever cross with Ethel. It was a matter of pretty general +belief that whatever Ethel did was just right. So she dressed herself +becomingly in a cloth suit, and, with her plumed hat on her head, went +down to see what the day had to offer her. + +"The first thing is coffee, and then, all being agreeable, Dora. I shall +not look further ahead," she thought. + +As she entered the room she called "Good morning!" and her voice was +like the voice of the birds when they call "Spring!"; and her face was +radiant with smiles, and the touch of her lips and the clasp of her hand +warm with love and life; and her father and aunt forgot that she was +late, and that her breakfast was yet to order. + +She took up the reproach herself. "I am so sorry, Aunt Ruth. I only want +a cup of coffee and a roll." + +"My dear, you cannot go without a proper breakfast. Never mind the hour. +What would you like best?" + +"You are so good, Ruth. I should like a nice breakfast--a breast of +chicken and mushrooms, and some hot muffins and marmalade would do. +How comfortable you look here! Father, you are buried in newspapers. Is +anyone going to church?" + +Ruth ordered the desired breakfast and Mr. Rawdon took out his watch--"I +am afraid you have delayed us too long this morning, Ethel." + +"Am I to be the scapegoat? Now, I do not believe anyone wanted to go to +church. Ruth had her book, you, the newspapers. It is warm and pleasant +here, it is cold and windy outside. I know what confession would be +made, if honesty were the fashion." + +"Well, my little girl, honesty is the fashion in this house. I believe +in going to church. Religion is the Mother of Duty, and we should all +make a sad mess of life without duty. Is not that so, Ruth?" + +"Truth itself, Edward; but religion is not going to church and listening +to sermons. Those who built the old cathedrals of Europe had no idea +that sitting in comfortable pews and listening to some man talking was +worshiping God. Those great naves were intended for men and women to +stand or kneel in before God. And there were no high or low standing +or kneeling places; all were on a level before Him. It is our modern +Protestantism which has brought in lazy lolling in cushioned pews; and +the gallery, which makes a church as like a playhouse as possible!" + +"What are you aiming at, Ruth?" + +"I only meant to say, I would like going to church much better if we +went solely to praise God, and entreat His mercy. I do not care to hear +sermons." + +"My dear Ruth, sermons are a large fact in our social economy. When a +million or two are preached every year, they have a strong claim on +our attention. To use a trade phrase, sermons are firm, and I believe a +moderate tax on them would yield an astonishing income." + +"See how you talk of them, Edward; as if they were a commercial +commodity. If you respected them----" + +"I do. I grant them a steady pneumatic pressure in the region of morals, +and even faith. Picture to yourself, Ruth, New York without sermons. The +dear old city would be like a ship without ballast, heeling over with +every wind, and letting in the waters of immorality and scepticism. +Remove this pulpit balance just for one week from New York City, and +where should we be?" + +"Well then," said Ethel, "the clergy ought to give New York a first-rate +article in sermons, either of home or foreign manufacture. New York +expects the very best of everything; and when she gets it, she opens her +heart and her pocketbook enjoys it, and pays for it." + +"That is the truth, Ethel. I was thinking of your grandmother Rawdon. +You have your hat on--are you going to see her?" + +"I am going to see Dora Denning. I had an urgent note from her last +night. She says she has 'extraordinary news' and begs me to 'come to +her immediately.' I cannot imagine what her news is. I saw her Friday +afternoon." + +"She has a new poodle, or a new lover, or a new way of crimping her +hair," suggested Ruth Bayard scornfully. "She imposes on you, Ethel; why +do you submit to her selfishness?" + +"I suppose because I have become used to it. Four years ago I began +to take her part, when the girls teased and tormented her in the +schoolroom, and I have big-sistered her ever since. I suppose we get to +love those who make us kind and give us trouble. Dora is not perfect, +but I like her better than any friend I have. And she must like me, for +she asks my advice about everything in her life." + +"Does she take it?" + +"Yes--generally. Sometimes I have to make her take it." + +"She has a mother. Why does she not go to her?" + +"Mrs. Denning knows nothing about certain subjects. I am Dora's social +godmother, and she must dress and behave as I tell her to do. Poor Mrs. +Denning! I am so sorry for her--another cup of coffee, Ruth--it is not +very strong." + +"Why should you be sorry for Mrs. Denning, Her husband is enormously +rich--she lives in a palace, and has a crowd of men and women servants +to wait upon her--carriages, horses, motor cars, what not, at her +command." + +"Yet really, Ruth, she is a most unhappy woman. In that little Western +town from which they came, she was everybody. She ran the churches, and +was chairwoman in all the clubs, and President of the Temperance Union, +and manager of every religious, social, and political festival; and her +days were full to the brim of just the things she liked to do. Her dress +there was considered magnificent; people begged her for patterns, and +regarded her as the very glass of fashion. Servants thought it a great +privilege to be employed on the Denning place, and she ordered her house +and managed her half-score of men and maids with pleasant autocracy. +NOW! Well, I will tell you how it is, NOW. She sits all day in her +splendid rooms, or rides out in her car or carriage, and no one knows +her, and of course no one speaks to her. Mr. Denning has his Wall Street +friends----" + +"And enemies," interrupted Judge Rawdon. + +"And enemies! You are right, father. But he enjoys one as much as the +other--that is, he would as willingly fight his enemies as feast his +friends. He says a big day in Wall Street makes him alive from head to +foot. He really looks happy. Bryce Denning has got into two clubs, and +his money passes him, for he plays, and is willing to love prudently. +But no one cares about Mrs. Denning. She is quite old--forty-five, I +dare say; and she is stout, and does not wear the colors and style she +ought to wear--none of her things have the right 'look,' and of course +I cannot advise a matron. Then, her fine English servants take her house +out of her hands. She is afraid of them. The butler suavely tries to +inform her; the housekeeper removed the white crotcheted scarfs +and things from the gilded chairs, and I am sure Mrs. Denning had a +heartache about their loss; but she saw that they had also vanished from +Dora's parlor, so she took the hint, and accepted the lesson. Really, +her humility and isolation are pitiful. I am going to ask grandmother +to go and see her. Grandmother might take her to church, and get Dr. +Simpson and Mrs. Simpson to introduce her. Her money and adaptability +would do the rest. There, I have had a good breakfast, though I was +late. It is not always the early bird that gets chicken and mushrooms. +Now I will go and see what Dora wants"--and lifting her furs with a +smile, and a "Good morning!" equally charming, she disappeared. + +"Did you notice her voice, Ruth?" asked Judge Rawdon. "What a tone there +is in her 'good morning!'" + +"There is a tone in every one's good morning, Edward. I think people's +salutations set to music would reveal their inmost character. Ethel's +good morning says in D major 'How good is the day!' and her good +night drops into the minor third, and says pensively 'How sweet is the +night!'" + +"Nay, Ruth, I don't understand all that; but I do understand the voice. +It goes straight to my heart." + +"And to my heart also, Edward. I think too there is a measured music, +a central time and tune, in every life. Quick, melodious natures like +Ethel's never wander far from their keynote, and are therefore joyously +set; while slow, irresolute people deviate far, and only come back after +painful dissonances and frequent changes." + +"You are generally right, Ruth, even where I cannot follow you. I hope +Ethel will be home for dinner. I like my Sunday dinner with both of you, +and I may bring my mother back with me." + +Then he said "Good morning" with an intentional cheerfulness, and Ruth +was left alone with her book. She gave a moment's thought to the value +of good example, and then with a sigh of content let her eyes rest on +the words Ethel's presence had for awhile silenced: + +"I am filled with a sense of sweetness and wonder that such, little +things can make a mortal so exceedingly rich. But I confess that the +chiefest of all my delights is still the religious." (Theodore Parker.) +She read the words again, then closed her eyes and let the honey of some +sacred memory satisfy her soul. And in those few minutes of reverie, +Ruth Bayard revealed the keynote of her being. Wanderings from it, +caused by the exigencies and duties of life, frequently occurred; but +she quickly returned to its central and controlling harmony; and +her serenity and poise were therefore as natural as was her niece's +joyousness and hope. Nor was her religious character the result of +temperament, or of a secluded life. Ruth Bayard was a woman of thought +and culture, and wise in the ways of the world, but not worldly. Her +personality was very attractive, she had a good form, an agreeable face, +speaking gray eyes, and brown hair, soft and naturally wavy. She was a +distant cousin of Ethel's mother, but had been brought up with her in +the same household, and always regarded her as a sister, and Ethel never +remembered that she was only her aunt by adoption. Ten years older than +her niece, she had mothered her with a wise and loving patience, and +her thoughts never wandered long or far from the girl. Consequently, +she soon found herself wondering what reason there could be for Dora +Denning's urgency. + +In the meantime Ethel had reached her friend's residence a new building +of unusual size and very ornate architecture. Liveried footmen and +waiting women bowed her with mute attention to Miss Denning's suite, an +absolutely private arrangement of five rooms, marvelously furnished +for the young lady's comfort and delight. The windows of her parlor +overlooked the park, and she was standing at one of them as Ethel +entered the room. In a passion of welcoming gladness she turned to her, +exclaiming: "I have been watching for you hours and hours, Ethel. I have +the most wonderful thing to tell you. I am so happy! So happy! No one +was ever as happy as I am." + +Then Ethel took both her hands, and, as they stood together, she looked +intently at her friend. Some new charm transfigured her face; for her +dark, gazelle eyes were not more lambent than her cheeks, though in +a different way; while her black hair in its picturesquely arranged +disorder seemed instinct with life, and hardly to be restrained. She was +constantly pushing it back, caressing or arranging it; and her white, +slender fingers, sparkling with jewels, moved among the crimped and wavy +locks, as if there was an intelligent sympathy between them. + +"How beautiful you are to-day, Dora! Who has worked wonders on you?" + +"Basil Stanhope. He loves me! He loves me! He told me so last night--in +the sweetest words that were ever uttered. I shall never forget one +of them--never, as long as I live! Let us sit down. I want to tell you +everything." + +"I am astonished, Dora!" + +"So was mother, and father, and Bryce. No one suspected our affection. +Mother used to grumble about my going 'at all hours' to St. Jude's +church; but that was because St. Jude's is so very High Church, and +mother is a Methodist Episcopal. It was the morning and evening prayers +she objected to. No one had any suspicion of the clergyman. Oh, Ethel, +he is so handsome! So good! So clever! I think every woman in the church +is in love with him." + +"Then if he is a good man, he must be very unhappy." + +"Of course he is quite ignorant of their admiration, and therefore quite +innocent. I am the only woman he loves, and he never even remembers me +when he is in the sacred office. If you could see him come out of the +vestry in his white surplice, with his rapt face and prophetic eyes. So +mystical! So beautiful! You would not wonder that I worship him." + +"But I do not understand--how did you meet him socially?" + +"I met him at Mrs. Taylor's first. Then he spoke to me one morning as I +came out of church, and the next morning he walked through the park with +me. And after that--all was easy enough." + +"I see. What does your father and mother think--or rather, what do they +say?" + +"Father always says what he thinks, and mother thinks and says what I +do. This condition simplified matters very much. Basil wrote to father, +and yesterday after dinner he had an interview with him. I expected +it, and was quite prepared for any climax that might come. I wore my +loveliest white frock, and had lilies of the valley in my hair and on +my breast; and father called me 'his little angel' and piously wondered +'how I could be his daughter.' All dinner time I tried to be angelic, +and after dinner I sang 'Little Boy Blue' and some of the songs he +loves; and I felt, when Basil's card came in, that I had prepared the +proper atmosphere for the interview." + +"You are really very clever, Dora." + +"I tried to continue singing and playing, but I could not; the notes all +ran together, the words were lost. I went to mother's side and put my +hand in hers, and she said softly: 'I can hear your father storming a +little, but he will settle down the quicker for it. I dare say he will +bring Mr. Stanhope in here before long." + +"Did he?" + +"No. That was Bryce's fault. How Bryce happened to be in the house at +that hour, I cannot imagine; but it seems to be natural for him to drop +into any interview where he can make trouble. However, it turned out all +for the best, for when mother heard Bryce's voice above all the other +sounds, she said, 'Come Dora, we shall have to interfere now.' Then +I was delighted. I was angelically dressed, and I felt equal to the +interview." + +"Do you really mean that you joined the three quarreling men?" + +"Of course. Mother was quite calm--calm enough to freeze a tempest--but +she gave father a look he comprehended. Then she shook hands with +Basil, and would have made some remark to Bryce, but with his usual +impertinence he took the initiative, and told he: very authoritatively +to 'retire and take me with her'--calling me that 'demure little flirt' +in a tone that was very offensive. You should have seen father blaze +into anger at his words. He told Bryce to remember that 'Mr. Ben Denning +owned the house, and that Bryce had four or five rooms in it by his +courtesy.' He said also that the 'ladies present were Mr. Ben Denning's +wife and daughter, and that it was impertinent in him to order them out +of his parlor, where they were always welcome.' Bryce was white with +passion, but he answered in his affected way--'Sir, that sly girl with +her pretended piety and her sneak of a lover is my sister, and I shall +not permit her to disgrace my family without making a protest.'" + +"And then?" + +"I began to cry, and I put my arms around father's neck and said he must +defend me; that I was not 'sly,' and Basil was not 'a sneak,' and father +kissed me, and said he would settle with any man, and every man, who +presumed to call me either sly or a flirt." + +"I think Mr. Denning acted beautifully. What did Bryce say?" + +"He turned to Basil, and said: 'Mr. Stanhope, if you are not a cad, you +will leave the house. You have no right to intrude yourself into family +affairs and family quarrels.' Basil had seated mother, and was +standing with one hand on the back of her chair, and he did not answer +Bryce--there was no need, father answered quick enough. He said Mr. +Stanhope had asked to become one of the family, and for his part he +would welcome him freely; and then he asked mother if she was of his +mind, and mother smiled and reached her hand backward to Basil. Then +father kissed me again, and somehow Basil's arm was round me, and I know +I looked lovely--almost like a bride! Oh, Ethel, it was just heavenly!" + +"I am sure it was. Did Bryce leave the room then?" + +"Yes; he went out in a passion, declaring he would never notice me +again. This morning at breakfast I said I was sorry Bryce felt so hurt, +but father was sure Bryce would find plenty of consolation in the fact +that his disapproval of my choice would excuse him from giving me a +wedding present. You know Bryce is a mean little miser!" + +"On the contrary, I thought he was very; luxurious and extravagant." + +"Where Bryce is concerned, yes; toward everyone else his conduct is too +mean to consider. Why, father makes him an allowance of $20,000 a year +and he empties father's cigar boxes whenever he can do so without----" + +"Let us talk about Mr. Stanhope he is far more interesting. When are you +going to marry him?" + +"In the Spring. Father is going to give me some money and I have the +fortune Grandmother Cahill left me. It has been well invested, and +father told me this morning I was a fairly rich little woman. Basil has +some private fortune, also his stipend--we shall do very well. Basil's +family is one of the finest among the old Boston aristocrats, and he is +closely connected with the English Stanhopes, who rank with the greatest +of the nobility." + +"I wish Americans would learn to rely on their own nobility. I am tired +of their everlasting attempts to graft on some English noble family. +No matter how great or clever a man may be, you are sure to read of his +descent from some Scottish chief or English earl." + +"They can't help their descent, Ethel." + +"They need not pin all they have done on to it. Often father frets me in +the same way. If he wins a difficult case, he does it naturally, because +he is a Rawdon. He is handsome, gentlemanly, honorable, even a perfect +horseman, all because, being a Rawdon, he was by nature and inheritance +compelled to such perfection. It is very provoking, Dora, and if I +were you I would not allow Basil to begin a song about 'the English +Stanhopes.' Aunt Ruth and I get very tired often of the English Rawdons, +and are really thankful for the separating Atlantic." + +"I don't think I shall feel in that way, Ethel. I like the nobility; so +does father, he says the Dennings are a fine old family." + +"Why talk of genealogies when there is such a man as Basil Stanhope to +consider? Let us grant him perfection and agree that he is to marry +you in the Spring; well then, there is the ceremony, and the wedding +garments! Of course it is to be a church wedding?" + +"We shall be married in Basil's own church. I can hardly eat or sleep +for thinking of the joy and the triumph of it! There will be women there +ready to eat their hearts with envy--I believe indeed, Ethel, that every +woman in the church is in love with Basil." + +"You have said that before, and I am sure you are wrong. A great many of +them are married and are in love with their own husbands; and the kind +of girls who go to St. Jude's are not the kind who marry clergymen. Mr. +Stanhope's whole income would hardly buy their gloves and parasols." + +"I don't think you are pleased that I am going to marry. You must not be +jealous of Basil. I shall love you just the same." + +"Under no conditions, Dora, would I allow jealousy to trouble my life. +All the same, you will not love me after your marriage as you have loved +me in the past. I shall not expect it." + +Passionate denials of this assertion, reminiscences of the past, +assurances for the future followed, and Ethel accepted them without +dispute and without faith. But she understood that the mere circumstance +of her engagement was all that Dora could manage at present; and +that the details of the marriage merged themselves constantly in the +wonderful fact that Basil Stanhope loved her, and that some time, not +far off, she was going to be his wife. This joyful certainty filled her +heart and her comprehension, and she had a natural reluctance to subject +it to the details of the social and religious ceremonies necessary, Such +things permitted others to participate in her joy, and she resented the +idea. For a time she wished to keep her lover in a world where no other +thought might trouble the thought of Dora. + +Ethel understood her friend's mood, and was rather relieved when her +carriage arrived. She felt that her presence was preventing Dora's +absolute surrender of herself to thoughts of her lover, and all the way +home she marveled at the girl's infatuation, and wondered if it would +be possible for her to fall into such a dotage of love for any man. She +answered this query positively--"No, if I should lose my heart, I shall +not therefore lose my head"--and then, before she could finish assuring +herself of her determinate wisdom, some mocking lines she had often +quoted to love-sick girls went laughing through her memory-- + + "O Woman! Woman! O our frail, frail sex! + No wonder tragedies are made from us! + Always the same--nothing but loves and cradles." + + +She found Ruth Bayard dressed for dinner, but her father was not +present. That was satisfactory, for he was always a little impatient +when the talk was of lovers and weddings; and just then this topic was +uppermost in Ethel's mind. + +"Ruth," she said, "Dora is engaged," and then in a few sentences she +told the little romance Dora had lived for the past year, and its happy +culmination. "Setting money aside, I think he will make a very suitable +husband. What do you think, Ruth?" + +"From what I know of Mr. Stanhope, I should doubt it. I am sure he +will put his duties before every earthly thing, and I am sure Dora will +object to that. Then I wonder if Dora is made on a pattern large enough +to be the moneyed partner in matrimony. I should think Mr. Stanhope was +a proud man." + +"Dora says he is connected with the English noble family of Stanhopes." + +"We shall certainly have all the connections of the English nobility in +America very soon now--but why does he marry Dora? Is it her money?" + +"I think not. I have heard from various sources some fine things of +Basil Stanhope. There are many richer girls than Dora in St. Jude's. I +dare say some one of them would have married him." + +"You are mistaken. Do you think Margery Starey, Jane Lewes, or any of +the girls of their order would marry a man with a few thousands a +year? And to marry for love is beyond the frontiers of such women's +intelligence. In their creed a husband is a banker, not a man to be +loved and cared for. You know how much of a banker Mr. Stanhope could +be." + +"Bryce Denning is very angry at what he evidently considers his sister's +mesalliance." + +"If Mr. Stanhope is connected with the English Stanhopes, the +mesalliance must be laid to his charge." + +"Indeed the Dennings have some pretenses to good lineage, and Bryce +spoke of his sister 'disgracing his family by her contemplated +marriage.'" + +"His family! My dear Ethel, his grandfather was a manufacturer of +tin tacks. And now that we have got as far away as the Denning's +grandfather, suppose we drop the subject." + +"Content; I am a little tired of the clan Denning--that is their +original name Dora says. I will go now and dress for dinner." + +Then Ruth rose and looked inquisitively around the room. It was as she +wished it to be--the very expression of elegant comfort--warm and light, +and holding the scent of roses: a place of deep, large chairs with no +odds and ends to worry about, a room to lounge and chat in, and where +the last touch of perfect home freedom was given by a big mastiff who, +having heard the door-bell ring, strolled in to see who had called. + + + +CHAPTER II + +DURING dinner both Ruth and Ethel were aware of some sub-interest in the +Judge's manner; his absent-mindedness was unusual, and once Ruth saw a +faint smile that nothing evident could have induced. Unconsciously also +he set a tone of constraint and hurry; the meal was not loitered over, +the conversation flagged, and all rose from the table with a sense of +relief; perhaps, indeed, with a feeling of expectation. + +They entered the parlor together, and the mastiff rose to meet them, +asking permission to remain with the little coaxing push of his nose +which brought the ready answer: + +"Certainly, Sultan. Make yourself comfortable." + +Then they grouped themselves round the fire, and the Judge lit his cigar +and looked at Ethel in a way that instantly brought curiosity to the +question: + +"You have a secret, father," she said. "Is it about grandmother?" + +"It is news rather than a secret, Ethel. And grandmother has a good deal +to do with it, for it is about her family--the Mostyns." + +"Oh!" + +The tone of Ethel's "Oh!" was not encouraging, and Ruth's look of +interest held in abeyance was just as chilling. But something like this +attitude had been expected, and Judge Rawdon was not discouraged by it; +he knew that youth is capable of great and sudden changes, and that its +ability to find reasonable motives for them is unlimited, so he calmly +continued: + +"You are aware that your grandmother's name before marriage was Rachel +Mostyn?" + +"I have seen it a thousand times at the bottom of her sampler, father, +the one that is framed and hanging in her morning room--Rachel Mostyn, +November, Anno Domini, 1827." + +"Very well. She married George Rawdon, and they came to New York in +1834. They had a pretty house on the Bowling Green and lived very +happily there. I was born in 1850, the youngest of their children. You +know that I sign my name Edward M. Rawdon; it is really Edward Mostyn +Rawdon." + +He paused, and Ruth said, "I suppose Mrs. Rawdon has had some news from +her old home?" + +"She had a letter last night, and I shall probably receive one +to-morrow. Frederick Mostyn, her grand-nephew, is coming to New York, +and Squire Rawdon, of Rawdon Manor, writes to recommend the young man to +our hospitality." + +"But you surely do not intend to invite him here, Edward. I think that +would not do." + +"He is going to the Holland House. But he is our kinsman, and therefore +we must be hospitable." + +"I have been trying to count the kinship. It is out of my reckoning," +said Ethel. "I hope at least he is nice and presentable." + +"The Mostyns are a handsome family. Look at your grandmother. And Squire +Rawdon speaks very well of Mr. Mostyn. He has taken the right side +in politics, and is likely to make his mark. They were always great +sportsmen, and I dare say this representative of the family is a +good-looking fellow, well-mannered, and perfectly dressed." + +Ethel laughed. "If his clothes fit him he will be an English wonder. I +have seen lots of Englishmen; they are all frights as to trousers and +vests. There was Lord Wycomb, his broadcloths and satins and linen were +marvels in quality, but the make! The girls hated to be seen walking +with him, and he would walk--'good for the constitution,' was his +explanation for all his peculiarities. The Caylers were weary to death +of them." + +"And yet," said Ruth, "they sang songs of triumph when Lou Cayler +married him." + +"That was a different thing. Lou would make him get 'fits' and stop +wearing sloppy, baggy arrangements. And I do not suppose the English +lord has now a single peculiarity left, unless it be his constitutional +walk--that, of course. I have heard English babies get out of their +cradles to take a constitutional." + +During this tirade Ruth had been thinking. "Edward," she asked, "why +does Squire Rawdon introduce Mr. Mostyn? Their relationship cannot be +worth counting." + +"There you are wrong, Ruth." He spoke with a little excitement. +"Englishmen never deny matrimonial relationships, if they are worthy +ones. Mostyn and Rawdon are bound together by many a gold wedding ring; +we reckon such ties relationships. Squire Raw-don lost his son and his +two grandsons a year ago. Perhaps this young man may eventually stand +in their place. The Squire is nearly eighty years old; he is the last of +the English Rawdons--at least of our branch of it." + +"You suppose this Mr. Mostyn may become Squire of Rawdon Manor?" + +"He may, Ruth, but it is not certain. There is a large mortgage on the +Manor." + +"Oh!" + +Both girls made the ejaculation at the same moment, and in both voices +there was the same curious tone of speculation. It was a cry after +truth apprehended, but not realized. Mr. Rawdon remained silent; he was +debating with himself the advisability of further confidence, but +he came quickly to the conclusion that enough had been told for the +present. Turning to Ethel, he said: "I suppose girls have a code of +honor about their secrets. Is Dora Denning's 'extraordinary news' shut +up in it?" + +"Oh, no, father. She is going to be married. That is all." + +"That is enough. Who is the man?" + +"Reverend Mr. Stanhope." + +"Nonsense!" + +"Positively." + +"I never heard anything more ridiculous. That saintly young priest! Why, +Dora will be tired to death of him in a month. And he? Poor fellow!" + +"Why poor fellow? He is very much in love with her." + +"It is hard to understand. St. Jerome's love 'pale with midnight prayer' +would be more believable than the butterfly Dora. Goodness, gracious! +The idea of that man being in love! It pulls him down a bit. I thought +he never looked at a woman." + +"Do you know him, father?" + +"As many people know him--by good report. I know that he is a clergyman +who believes what he preaches. I know a Wall Street broker who left St. +Jude's church because Mr. Stanhope's sermons on Sunday put such a fine +edge on his conscience that Mondays were dangerous days for him to do +business on. And whatever Wall Street financiers think of the Bible +personally, they do like a man who sticks to his colors, and who holds +intact the truth committed to him. Stanhope does this emphatically; and +he is so well trusted that if he wanted to build a new church he could +get all the money necessary, from Wall Street men in an hour. And he is +going to marry! Going to marry Dora Denning! It is 'extraordinary news,' +indeed!" + +Ethel was a little offended at such unusual surprise. "I think you don't +quite understand Dora," she said. "It will be Mr. Stanhope's fault +if she is not led in the right way; for if he only loves and pets her +enough he may do all he wishes with her. I know, I have both coaxed and +ordered her for four years--sometimes one way is best, and sometimes the +other." + +"How is a man to tell which way to take? What do her parents think of +the marriage?" + +"They are pleased with it." + +"Pleased with it! Then I have nothing more to say, except that I hope +they will not appeal to me on any question of divorce that may arise +from such an unlikely marriage." + +"They are only lovers yet, Edward," said Ruth. "It is not fair, or kind, +to even think of divorce." + +"My dear Ruth, the fashionable girl of today accepts marriage with the +provision of divorce." + +"Dora is hardly one of that set." + +"I hope she may keep out of it, but marriage will give her many +opportunities. Well, I am sorry for the young priest. He isn't fit to +manage a woman like Dora Denning. I am afraid he will get the worst of +it." + +"I think you are very unkind, father. Dora is my friend, and I know her. +She is a girl of intense feelings and very affectionate. And she has +dissolved all her life and mind in Mr. Stanhope's life and mind, just as +a lump of sugar is dissolved in water." + +Ruth laughed. "Can you not find a more poetic simile, Ethel?" + +"It will do. This is an age of matter; a material symbol is the proper +thing." + +"I am glad to hear she has dissolved her mind in Stanhope's," said Judge +Rawdon. "Dora's intellect in itself is childish. What did the man see in +her that he should desire her?" + +"Father, you never can tell how much brains men like with their beauty. +Very little will do generally. And Dora has beauty--great beauty; no one +can deny that. I think Dora is giving up a great deal. To her, at least, +marriage is a state of passing from perfect freedom into the comparative +condition of a slave, giving up her own way constantly for some one +else's way." + +"Well, Ethel, the remedy is in the lady's hands. She is not forced to +marry, and the slavery that is voluntary is no hardship. Now, my dear, I +have a case to look over, and you must excuse me to-night. To-morrow we +shall know more concerning Mr. Mostyn, and it is easier to talk about +certainties than probabilities." + +But if conversation ceased about Mr. Mostyn, thought did not; for, a +couple of hours afterwards, Ethel tapped at her aunt's door and said, +"Just a moment, Ruth." + +"Yes, dear, what is it?" + +"Did you notice what father said about the mortgage on Rawdon Manor"' + +"Yes." + +"He seemed to know all about it." + +"I think he does know all about it." + +"Do you think he holds it?" + +"He may do so--it is not unlikely." + +"Oh! Then Mr. Fred Mostyn, if he is to inherit Rawdon, would like the +mortgage removed?" + +"Of course he would." + +"And the way to remove it would be to marry the daughter of the holder +of the mortgage?" + +"It would be one way." + +"So he is coming to look me over. I am a matrimonial possibility. How do +you like that idea, Aunt Ruth?" + +"I do not entertain it for a moment. Mr. Mostyn may not even know of the +mortgage. When men mortgage their estates they do not make confidences +about the matter, or talk it over with their friends. They always +conceal and hide the transaction. If your father holds the mortgage, I +feel sure that no one but himself and Squire Rawdon know anything about +it. Don't look at the wrong side of events, Ethel; be content with the +right side of life's tapestry. Why are you not asleep? What are you +worrying about?" + +"Nothing, only I have not heard all I wanted to hear." + +"And perhaps that is good for you." + +"I shall go and see grandmother first thing in the morning." + +"I would not if I were you. You cannot make any excuse she will not see +through. Your father will call on Mr. Mostyn to-morrow, and we shall get +unprejudiced information." + +"Oh, I don't know that, Ruth. Father is intensely American three hundred +and sixty-four days and twenty-three hours in a year, and then in the +odd hour he will flare up Yorkshire like a conflagration." + +"English, you mean?" + +"No. Yorkshire IS England to grandmother and father. They don't think +anything much of the other counties, and people from them are just +respectable foreigners. You may depend upon it, whatever grandmother +says of Mr. Fred Mostyn, father will believe it, too." + +"Your father always believes whatever your grandmother says. Good night, +dear." + +"Good night. I think I shall go to grandmother in the morning. I +know how to manage her. I shall meet her squarely with the truth, and +acknowledge that I am dying with curiosity about Mr. Mostyn." + +"And she will tease and lecture you, say you are 'not sweetheart high +yet, only a little maid,' and so on. Far better go and talk with Dora. +To-morrow she will need you, I am sure. Ethel, I am very sleepy. Good +night again, dear." + +"Good night!" Then with a sudden animation, "I know what to do, I shall +tell grandmother about Dora's marriage. It is all plain enough now. +Good night, Ruth." And this good night, though dropping sweetly into the +minor third, had yet on its final inflection something of the +pleasant hopefulness of its major key--it expressed anticipation and +satisfaction. + +What happened in the night session she could not tell, but she awoke +with a positive disinclination to ask a question about Mr. Mostyn. "I +have received orders from some one," she said to Ruth; "I simply do not +care whether I ever see or hear of the man again. I am going to Dora, +and I may not come home until late. You know they will depend upon me +for every suggestion." + +In fact, Ethel did not return home until the following day, for a +snowstorm came up in the afternoon, and the girl was weary with planning +and writing, and well inclined to eat with Dora the delicate little +dinner served to them in Dora's private parlor. Then about nine o'clock +Mr. Stanhope called, and Ethel found it pleasant enough to watch the +lovers and listen to Mrs. Denning's opinions of what had been already +planned. And the next day she seemed to be so absolutely necessary +to the movement of the marriage preparations, that it was nearly dark +before she was permitted to return home. + +It was but a short walk between the two houses, and Ethel was resolved +to have the refreshment of the exercise. And how good it was to feel the +pinch of the frost and the gust of the north wind, and after it to come +to the happy portal of home, and the familiar atmosphere of the cheerful +hall, and then to peep into the firelit room in which Ruth lay dreaming +in the dusky shadows. + +"Ruth, darling!" + +"Ethel! I have just sent for you to come home." Then she rose and took +Ethel in her arms. "How delightfully cold you are! And what rosy cheeks! +Do you know that we have a little dinner party?" + +"Mr. Mostyn?" + +"Yes, and your grandmother, and perhaps Dr. Fisher--the Doctor is not +certain." + +"And I see that you are already dressed. How handsome you look! That +black lace dress, with the dull gold ornaments, is all right." + +"I felt as if jewels would be overdress for a family dinner." + +"Yes, but jewels always snub men so completely. It is not altogether +that they represent money; they give an air of royalty, and a woman +without jewels is like an uncrowned queen--she does not get the homage. +I can't account for it, but there it is. I shall wear my sapphire +necklace. What did father say about our new kinsman?" + +"Very little. It was impossible to judge from his words what he thought. +I fancied that he might have been a little disappointed." + +"I should not wonder. We shall see." + +"You will be dressed in an hour?" + +"In less time. Shall I wear white or blue?" + +"Pale blue and white flowers. There are some white violets in the +library. I have a red rose. We shall contrast each other very well." + +"What is it all about? Do we really care how we look in the eyes of this +Mr. Mostyn?" + +"Of course we care. We should not be women if we did not care. We must +make some sort of an impression, and naturally we prefer that it should +be a pleasant one." + +"If we consider the mortgage----" + +"Nonsense! The mortgage is not in it." + +"Good-by. Tell Mattie to bring me a cup of tea upstairs. I will be +dressed in an hour." + +The tea was brought and drank, and Ethel fell asleep while her maid +prepared every item for her toilet. Then she spoke to her mistress, and +Ethel awakened, as she always did, with a smile; nature's surest sign of +a radically sweet temper. And everything went in accord with the smile; +her hair fell naturally into its most becoming waves, her dress into its +most graceful folds; the sapphire necklace matched the blue of her happy +eyes, the roses of youth were on her cheeks, and white violets on her +breast. She felt her own beauty and was glad of it, and with a laughing +word of pleasure went down to the parlor. + +Madam Rawdon was standing before the fire, but when she heard the door +open she turned her face toward it. + +"Come here, Ethel Rawdon," she said, "and let me have a look at you." +And Ethel went to her side, laid her hand lightly on the old lady's +shoulder and kissed her cheek. "You do look middling well," she +continued, "and your dress is about as it should be. I like a girl to +dress like a girl--still, the sapphires. Are they necessary?" + +"You would not say corals, would you, grandmother? I have those you gave +me when I was three years old." + +"Keep your wit, my dear, for this evening. I should not wonder but you +might need it. Fred Mostyn is rather better than I expected. It was a +great pleasure to see him. It was like a bit of my own youth back again. +When you are a very old woman there are few things sweeter, Ethel." + +"But you are not an old woman, grandmother." + +Nor was she. In spite of her seventy-five years she stood erect at the +side of her grand-daughter. Her abundant hair was partly gray, but the +gray mingled with the little oval of costly lace that lay upon it, and +the effect was soft and fair as powdering. She had been very handsome, +and her beauty lingered as the beauty of some flowers linger, in fainter +tints and in less firm outlines; for she had never fallen from that +"grace of God vouchsafed to children," and therefore she had kept not +only the enthusiasms of her youth, but that sweet promise of the "times +of restitution" when the child shall die one hundred years old, because +the child-heart shall be kept in all its freshness and trust. Yes, in +Rachel Rawdon's heart the well-springs of love and life lay too deep for +the frosts of age to touch. She would be eternally young before she grew +old. + +She sat down as Ethel spoke, and drew the girl to her side. "I hear your +friend is going to marry," she said. + +"Dora? Yes." + +"Are you sorry?" + +"Perhaps not. Dora has been a care to me for four years. I hope her +husband may manage her as well as I have done." + +"Are you afraid he will not?" + +"I cannot tell, grandmother. I see all Dora's faults. Mr. Stanhope is +certain that she has no faults. Hitherto she has had her own way in +everything. Excepting myself, no one has ventured to contradict her. +But, then, Dora is over head and ears in love, and love, it is said, +makes all things easy to bear and to do." + +"One thing, girls, amazes me--it is how readily women go to church and +promise to love, honor, and obey their husbands, when they never intend +to do anything of the kind." + +"There is a still more amazing thing, Madam," answered Ruth; "that is +that men should be so foolish as to think, or hope, they perhaps might +do so." + +"Old-fashioned women used to manage it some way or other, Ruth. But the +old-fashioned woman was a very soft-hearted creature, and, maybe, it was +just as well that she was." + +"But Woman's Dark Ages are nearly over, Madam; and is not the New Woman +a great improvement on the Old Woman?" + +"I haven't made up my mind yet, Ruth, about the New Woman. I notice one +thing that a few of the new kind have got into their pretty heads, and +that is, that they ought to have been men; and they have followed up +that idea so far that there is now very little difference in their +looks, and still less in their walk; they go stamping along with the +step of an athlete and the stride of a peasant on fresh plowed fields. +It is the most hideous of walks imaginable. The Grecian bend, which +you cannot remember, but may have heard of, was a lackadaisical, vulgar +walking fad, but it was grace itself compared with the hideous stride +which the New Woman has acquired on the golf links or somewhere else." + +"But men stamp and stride in the same way, grandmother." + +"A long stride suits a man's anatomy well enough; it does not suit a +woman's--she feels every stride she takes, I'll warrant her." + +"If she plays golf----" + +"My dear Ethel, there is no need for her to play golf. It is a man's +game and was played for centuries by men only. In Scotland, the home of +golf, it was not thought nice for women to even go to the links, because +of the awful language they were likely to hear." + +"Then, grandmother, is it not well for ladies to play golf if it keeps +men from using 'awful language' to each other?" + +"God love you, child! Men will think what they dare not speak." + +"If we could only have some new men!" sighed Ethel. "The lover of to-day +is just what a girl can pick up; he has no wit and no wisdom and no +illusions. He talks of his muscles and smells of cigarettes--perhaps +of whisky"--and at these words, Judge Rawdon, accompanied by Mr. Fred +Mostyn, entered the room. + +The introductions slipped over easily, they hardly seemed to be +necessary, and the young man took the chair offered as naturally as +if he had sat by the hearth all his life. There was no pause and no +embarrassment and no useless polite platitudes; and Ethel's first +feeling about her kinsman was one of admiration for the perfect ease and +almost instinctive at-homeness with which he took his place. He had come +to his own and his own had received him; that was the situation, a very +pleasant one, which he accepted with the smiling trust that was at once +the most perfect and polite of acknowledgments. + +"So you do not enjoy traveling?" said Judge Rawdon as if continuing a +conversation. + +"I think it the most painful way of taking pleasure, sir--that is the +actual transit. And sleeping cars and electric-lighted steamers and +hotels do not mitigate the suffering. If Dante was writing now he might +depict a constant round of personally conducted tours in Purgatory. +I should think the punishment adequate for any offense. But I like +arriving at places. New York has given me a lot of new sensations +to-day, and I have forgotten the transit troubles already." + +He talked well and temperately, and yet Ethel could not avoid the +conclusion that he was a man of positive character and uncompromising +prejudices. And she also felt a little disappointed in his personality, +which contradicted her ideal of a Yorkshire squire. For he was small and +slender in stature, and his face was keen and thin, from the high +cheek bones to the sharp point of the clean-shaven chin. Yet it was +an interesting face, for the brows were broad and the eyes bright +and glancing. That his nature held the opposite of his qualities was +evident from the mouth, which was composed and discreet and generally +clothed with a frank smile, negatived by the deep, sonorous voice which +belongs to the indiscreet and quarrelsome. His dress was perfect. Ethel +could find no fault in it, except the monocle which he did not use once +during the evening, and which she therefore decided was a quite idle and +unhandsome adjunct. + +One feature of his character was definite--he was a home-loving man. +He liked the society of women with whom he could be familiar, and +he preferred the company of books and music to fashionable social +functions. This pleasant habit of domesticity was illustrated during +the evening by an accidental incident--a noisy, mechanical street +organ stopped before the windows, and in a blatant manner began its +performance. Conversation was paralyzed by the intrusion and when it +was removed Judge Rawdon said: "What a democratic, leveling, aggressive +thing music is! It insists on being heard. It is always in the way, +it thrusts itself upon you, whether you want it or not. Now art is +different. You go to see pictures when you wish to." + +Mostyn did not notice the criticism on music itself, but added in a +soft, disapproving way: "That man has no music in him. Do you know that +was one of Mendelssohn's delicious dreams. This is how it should have +been rendered," and he went impulsively to the piano and then the sweet +monotonous cadences and melodious reveries slipped from his long white +fingers till the whole room was permeated with a delicious sense of +moonlit solitude and conversation was stilled in its languor. The young +man had played his own dismissal, but it was an effective one, and +he complimented himself on his readiness to seize opportunities for +display, and on his genius in satisfying them. + +"I think I astonished them a little," he mused, "and I wonder what that +pretty, cousin of mine thought of the music and the musician. I fancy we +shall be good friends; she is proud--that is no fault; and she has very +decided opinions--which might be a great fault; but I think I rather +astonished them." + +To such reflections he stepped rather pompously down the avenue, not at +all influenced by any premonition that his satisfactory feelings +might be imperfectly shared. Yet silence was the first result of his +departure. Judge Rawdon took out his pocketbook and began to study its +entries. Ruth Bayard rose and closed the piano. Ethel lifted a magazine, +while it was Madam who finally asked in an impatient tone: + +"What do you think of Frederick? I suppose, Edward, you have an opinion. +Isn't he a very clever man?" + +"I should not wonder if he were, mother, clever to a fault." + +"I never heard a young man talk better." + +"He talked a great deal, but then, you know, he was not on his oath." + +"I'll warrant every word he said." + +"Your warrant is fine surety, mother, but I am not bound to believe all +I hear. You women can please yourselves." + +And with these words he left the women to find out, if they could, what +manner of man their newly-found kinsman might be. + + +* * * * * + + + +CHAPTER III + +ONE of the most comfortable things about Frederick Mostyn was his almost +boyish delight in the new life which New York opened to him. Every phase +of it was so fresh, so unusual, that his Yorkshire existence at Mostyn +Hall gave him no precedents and no experiences by which to measure +events. The simplest things were surprising or interesting. He was never +weary of taking those exciting "lifts" to the top of twenty-three story +buildings and admiring the wonderful views such altitudes gave him. He +did not perhaps comprehend how much he was influenced by the friction +of two million wills and interests; did not realize how they evoked +an electric condition that got behind the foreground of existence and +stirred something more at the roots of his being than any previous +experience had ever done. And this feeling was especially entrancing +when he saw the great city and majestic river lying at his feet in the +white, uncanny light of electricity, all its color gone, its breath +cold, its life strangely remote and quiet, men moving like shadows, +and sounds hollow and faint and far off, as if they came from a distant +world. It gave him a sense of dreamland quite as much as that of +reality. The Yorkshire moors and words grew dull and dreary in his +memory; even the thought of the hunting field could not lure his desire. +New York was full of marvelous novelties; its daily routine, even in the +hotel and on the streets, gripped his heart and his imagination; and he +confessed to himself that New York was life at first hand; fresh drawn, +its very foam sparkling and intoxicating. He walked from the Park to the +Battery and examined all that caught his eye. He had a history of +the city and sought out every historical site; he even went over to +Weehawken, and did his best to locate the spot where Burr and Hamilton +fought. He admired Hamilton, but after reading all about the two men, +gave his sympathy to Burr, "a clever, unlucky little chap," he said. +"Why do clever men hate each other?" and then he smiled queerly as he +remembered political enemies of great men in his own day and his own +country; and concluded that "it was their nature to do so." + +But in these outside enthusiasms he did not forget his personal +relations. It took him but a few days to domesticate himself in both the +Rawdon houses. When the weather drove him off the streets, he found a +pleasant refuge either with Madam or with Ethel and Miss Bayard. Ethel +he saw less frequently than he liked; she was nearly always with Dora +Denning, but with Ruth Bayard he contracted a very pleasant friendship. +He told her all his adventures and found her more sympathetic than Madam +ever pretended to be. Madam thought him provincial in his tastes, and +was better pleased to hear that he had a visiting entry at two good +clubs, and had hired a motor ear, and was learning how to manage it. +Then she told herself that if he was good to her, she would buy him one +to be proud of before he returned to Yorkshire. + +It was at the Elite Club Bryce Denning first saw him. He came in with +Shaw McLaren, a young man whose acquaintance was considered as most +definitely satisfactory. Vainly Bryce Denning had striven to obtain any +notice whatever from McLaren, whose exclusiveness was proverbial. Who +then was this stranger he appeared so anxious to entertain? His look of +supreme satisfaction, his high-bred air, and peculiar intonation quickly +satisfied Bryce as to his nationality. + +"English, of course," he reflected, "and probably one of the aristocrats +that Shaw meets at his recently ennobled sister's place. He is forever +bragging about them. I must find out who Shaw's last British lion is," +and just as he arrived at this decision the person appeared who could +satisfy him. + +"That man!" was the reply to the inevitable question--"why, he is some +relative of the old lady Rawdon. He is staying at the Holland House, +but spends his time with the Rawdons, old and young; the young one is a +beauty, you know." + +"Do you think so? She is a good deal at our house. I suppose the fellow +has some pretentions. Judge Rawdon will be a man hard to satisfy with a +son-in-law." + +"I fancy his daughter will take that subject in her own hand. She +looks like a girl of spirit; and this man is not as handsome as most +Englishmen." + +"Not if you judge him by bulk, but women want more than mere bulk; he +has an air of breeding you can't mistake, and he looks clever." + +"His name is Mostyn. I have heard him spoken of. Would you like to know +him?" + +"I could live without that honor"--then Bryce turned the conversation +upon a recent horse sale, and a few moments later was sauntering up the +avenue. He was now resolved to make up his quarrel with Dora. Through +Dora he could manage to meet Mostyn socially, and he smiled in +anticipation of that proud moment when he should parade in his own +friendly leash McLaren's new British lion. Besides, the introduction to +Mr. Mostyn might, if judiciously managed, promote his own acquaintance +with Shaw McLaren, a sequence to be much desired; an end he had +persistently looked for. + +He went straight to his sister's apartments and touched the bell quite +gently. Her maid opened the door and looked annoyed and uncertain. She +knew all about the cruelly wicked opposition of Miss Denning's brother +to that nice young man, Basil Stanhope; and also the general attitude of +the Denning household, which was a comprehensive disapproval of all that +Mr. Bryce said and did. + +Dora had, however, talked all her anger away; she wished now to be +friends with her brother. She knew that his absence from her wedding +would cause unpleasant notice, and she had other reasons, purely +selfish, all emphasizing the advantages of a reconciliation. So she went +to meet Bryce with a pretty, pathetic air of injury patiently endured, +and when Bryce put out his hands and said, "Forgive me, Dodo! I cannot +bear your anger any longer!" she was quite ready for the next act, which +was to lay her pretty head on his shoulder and murmur, "I am not angry, +Bryce--I am grieved, dear." + +"I know, Dodo--forgive me! It was all my fault. I think I was jealous of +you; it was hard to find that you loved a stranger better than you loved +me. Kiss me, and be my own sweet, beautiful sister again. I shall try to +like all the people you like--for your sake, you know." + +Then Dora was charming. She sat and talked and planned and told him +all that had been done and all that was yet to do. And Bryce never +once named either Ethel or Mr. Mostyn. He knew Dora was a shrewd little +woman, and that he would have to be very careful in introducing the +subject of Mr. Mostyn, or else she would be sure to reach the central +truth of his submission to her. But, somehow, things happen for those +who are content to leave their desires to contingencies and accidentals. +The next morning he breakfasted with the family and felt himself +repaid for his concession to Dora by the evident pleasure their renewed +affection gave his father and mother; and though the elder Denning +made no remark in the renewed family solidarity, Bryce anticipated many +little favors and accommodations from his father's satisfaction. + +After breakfast he sat down, lit his cigar and waited. Both his mother +and Dora had much to tell him, and he listened, and gave them such +excellent advice that they were compelled to regret the arrangements +already made had lacked the benefit of his counsels. + +"But you had Ethel Rawdon," he said. "I thought she was everybody rolled +into one." + +"Oh, Ethel doesn't know as much as she thinks she does," said Mrs. +Denning. "I don't agree with lots of things she advises." + +"Then take my advice, mother." + +"Oh, Bryce, it is the best of all." + +"Bryce does not know about dress and such things, mother. Ethel finds +out what she does not know. Bryce cannot go to modistes and milliners +with me." + +"Well, Ethel does not pay as much attention as she might--she is +always going somewhere or other with that Englishman, that she says is a +relative--for my part, I doubt it." + +"Oh, mother!" + +"Girls will say anything, Dora, to hide a love affair. Why does she +never bring him here to call?" + +"Because I asked her not. I do not want to make new friends, especially +English ones, now. I am so busy all day, and of course my evenings +belong to Basil." + +"Yes, and there is no one to talk to me. Ethel and the Englishman +would pass an hour or two very nicely, and your father is very fond of +foreigners. I think you ought to ask Ethel to introduce him to us; +then we could have a little dinner for him and invite him to our opera +box--don't you agree with me, Bryce?" + +"If Dora does. Of course, at this time, Dora's wishes and engagements +are the most important. I have seen the young man at the club with Shaw +McLaren and about town with Judge Rawdon and others. He seems a nice +little fellow. Jack Lacy wanted to introduce me to him yesterday, but I +told him I could live without the honor. Of course, if Dora feels +like having him here that is a very different matter. He is certainly +distinguished looking, and would give an air to the wedding." + +"Is he handsome, Bryce?" + +"Yes--and no. Women would rave about him; men would think him finical +and dandified. He looks as if he were the happiest fellow in the +world--in fact, he looked to me so provokingly happy that I disliked +him; but now that Dodo is my little sister again, I can be happy enough +to envy no one." + +Then Dora slipped her hand into her brother's hand, and Bryce knew that +he might take his way to his little office in William Street, the advent +of Mr. Mostyn into his life being now as certain as anything in this +questionable, fluctuating world could be. As he was sauntering down +the avenue he met Ethel and he turned and walked back with her to the +Denning house. He was so good-natured and so good-humored that Ethel +could not avoid an inquisitive look at the usually glum young man, and +he caught it with a laugh and said, "I suppose you wonder what is the +matter with me, Miss Rawdon?" + +"You look more than usually happy. If I suppose you have found a wife or +a fortune, shall I be wrong?" + +"You come near the truth; I have found a sister. Do you know I am very +fond of Dora and we have made up our quarrel?" + +Then Ethel looked at him again. She did not believe him. She was sure +that Dora was not the only evoker of the unbounded satisfaction in +Bryce Denning's face and manner. But she let the reason pass; she had +no likely arguments to use against it. And that day Mrs. Denning, with a +slight air of injury, opened the subject of Mr. Mostyn's introduction to +them. She thought Ethel had hardly treated the Dennings fairly. Everyone +was wondering they had not met him. Of course, she knew they were not +aristocrats and she supposed Ethel was ashamed of them, but, for her +part, she thought they were as good as most people, and if it came to +money, they could put down dollar for dollar with any multi-millionaire +in America, or England either, for that matter. + +When the reproach took this tone there seemed to be only one thing for +Ethel to say or to do; but that one thing was exactly what she did not +say or do. She took up Mrs. Denning's reproach and complained that "her +relative and friend had been purposely and definitely ignored. Dora had +told her plainly she did not wish to make Mr. Mostyn's acquaintance; +and, in accord with this feeling, no one in the Denning family had +called on Mr. Mostyn, or shown him the least courtesy. She thought the +whole Rawdon family had the best of reasons for feeling hurt at the +neglect." + +This view of the case had not entered Mrs. Denning's mind. She was +quickly sorry and apologetic for Dora's selfishness and her own +thoughtlessness, and Ethel was not difficult to pacify. There was then +no duty so imperative as the arrangement of a little dinner for Mr. +Mostyn. "We will make it quite a family affair," said Mrs. Denning, +"then we can go to the opera afterwards. Shall I call on Mr. Mostyn at +the Holland House?" she asked anxiously. + +"I will ask Bryce to call," said Dora. "Bryce will do anything to please +me now, mother." + +In this way, Bryce Denning's desires were all arranged for him, and that +evening Dora made her request. Bryce heard it with a pronounced pout of +his lips, but finally told Dora she was "irresistible," and as his time +for pleasing her was nearly out, he would even call on the Englishman at +her request. + +"Mind!" he added, "I think he is as proud as Lucifer, and I may get +nothing for my civility but the excuse of a previous engagement." + +But Bryce Denning expected much more than this, and he got all that he +expected. The young men had a common ground to meet on, and they quickly +became as intimate as ever Frederick Mostyn permitted himself to be with +a stranger. Bryce could hardly help catching enthusiasm from Mostyn on +the subject of New York, and he was able to show his new acquaintance +phases of life in the marvelous city which were of the greatest interest +to the inquisitive Yorkshire squire--Chinese theaters and opium dives; +German, Italian, Spanish, Jewish, French cities sheltering themselves +within the great arms of the great American city; queer restaurants, +where he could eat of the national dishes of every civilized country +under the sun; places of amusement, legal and illegal, and the vast +under side of the evident life--all the uncared for toiling of the +thousands who work through the midnight hours. In these excursions the +young men became in a way familiar, though neither of them ever told the +other the real feelings of their hearts or the real aim of their lives. + +The proposed dinner took place ten days after its suggestion. There was +nothing remarkable in the function itself; all millionaires have +the same delicacies and the same wines, and serve these things with +precisely the same ceremonies. And, as a general thing, the company +follow rigidly ordained laws of conversation. Stories about public +people, remarks about the weather and the opera, are in order; but +original ideas or decided opinions are unpardonable social errors. +Yet even these commonplace events may contain some element that shall +unexpectedly cut a life in two, and so change its aims and desires as +to virtually create a new character. It was Frederick Mostyn who in +this instance underwent this great personal change; a change totally +unexpected and for which he was absolutely unprepared. For the people +gathered in Mrs. Denning's drawing-room were mostly known to him, and +the exceptions did not appear to possess any remarkable traits, except +Basil Stanhope, who stood thoughtfully at a window, his pale, lofty +beauty wearing an air of expectation. Mostyn decided that he was +naturally impatient for the presence of his fiancee, whose delayed +entrance he perceived was also annoying Ethel. Then there was a slight +movement, a sudden silence, and Mostyn saw Stanhope's face flush and +turn magically radiant. Mechanically he followed his movement and the +next moment his eyes met Fate, and Love slipped in between. Dora was +there, a fairy-like vision in pale amber draperies, softened with silk +lace. Diamonds were in her wonderfully waved hair and round her fair +white neck. They clasped her belt and adorned the instep of her little +amber silk slippers. She held a yellow rose in her hand, and yellow +rosebuds lay among the lace at her bosom, and Mostyn, stupefied by her +undreamed-of loveliness, saw golden emanations from the clear pallor of +her face. He felt for a moment or two as if he should certainly faint; +only by a miracle of stubborn will did he drag his consciousness from +that golden-tinted, sparkling haze of beauty which had smitten him like +an enchantment. Then the girl was looking at him with her soft, dark, +gazelle eyes; she was even speaking to him, but what she said, or what +reply he made, he could never by any means remember. Miss Bayard was +to be his companion, and with some effort and a few indistinct words he +gave her his arm. She asked if he was ill, and when a shake of the head +answered the query, she covered the few minutes of his disconcertion +with her conversation. He looked at her gratefully and gathered his +personality together. For Love had come to him like a two-edged sword, +dividing the flesh and the spirit, and he longed to cry aloud and +relieve the sweet torture of the possession. + +Reaction, however, came quickly, and with it a wonderful access of +all his powers. The sweet, strong wine of Love went to his brain like +celestial nectar. All the witty, amusing things he had ever heard came +trooping into his memory, and the dinner was long delayed by his fine +humor, his pleasant anecdotes, and the laughing thoughts which others +caught up and illustrated in their own way. + +It was a feast full of good things, but its spirit was not able to bear +transition. The company scattered quickly when it was over to the opera +or theater or to the rest of a quiet evening at home, for at the end +enthusiasm of any kind has a chilling effect on the feelings. None +of the party understood this result, and yet all were, in their way, +affected by the sudden fall of mental temperature. Mr. Denning went +to his library and took out his private ledger, a penitential sort of +reading which he relished after moods of any kind of enjoyment. Mrs. +Denning selected Ethel Rawdon for her text of disillusion. She "thought +Ethel had been a little jealous of Dora's dress," and Dora said, "It was +one of her surprises, and Ethel thought she ought to know everything." +"You are too obedient to Ethel," continued Mrs. Denning and Dora looked +with a charming demureness at her lover, and said, "She had to be +obedient to some one wiser than herself," and so slipped her hand +into Basil's hand. And he understood the promise, and with a look of +passionate affection raised the little jeweled pledge and kissed it. + +Perhaps no one was more affected by this chill, critical after-hour +than Miss Bayard and Ethel. Mostyn accompanied them home, but he was +depressed, and his courtesy had the air of an obligation. He said he +had a sudden headache, and was not sorry when the ladies bid him "good +night" on the threshold. Indeed, he felt that he must have refused any +invitation to lengthen out the hours with them or anybody. He wanted +one thing, and he wanted that with all his soul--solitude, that he might +fill it with images of Dora, and with passionate promises that either by +fair means or by foul, by right or by wrong, he would win the bewitching +woman for his wife. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +"WHAT do you think of the evening, Aunt Ruth?" Ethel was in her +aunt's room, comfortably wrapped in a pink kimono, when she asked this +question. + +"What do you think of it, Ethel?" + +"I am not sure." + +"The dinner was well served." + +"Yes. Who was the little dark man you talked with, aunt?" + +"He was a Mr. Marriot, a banker, and a friend of Bryce Denning's. He is +a fresh addition to society, I think. He had the word 'gold' always on +his lips; and he believes in it as good men believe in God. The general +conversation annoyed him; he could not understand men being entertained +by it." + +"They were, though, for once Jamie Sayer forgot to talk about his +pictures." + +"Is that the name of your escort?" + +"Yes." + +"And is he an artist?" + +"A second-rate one. He is painting Dora's picture, and is a great +favorite of Mrs. Denning's." + +"A strange, wild-looking man. When I saw him first he was lying, +dislocated, over his ottoman rather than sitting on it." + +"Oh, that is a part of his affectations. He is really a childish, +self-conscious creature, with a very decided dash of vulgarity. He only +tries to look strange and wild, and he would be delighted if he knew you +had thought him so." + +"I was glad to see Claudine Jeffrys. How slim and graceful she is! And, +pray, who is that Miss Ullman?" + +"A very rich woman. She has Bryce under consideration. Many other men +have been in the same position, for she is sure they all want her money +and not her. Perhaps she is right. I saw you talking to her, aunt." + +"For a short time. I did not enjoy her company. She is so mercilessly +realistic, she takes all the color out of life. Everything about her, +even her speech, is sharp-lined as the edge of a knife. She could make +Bryce's life very miserable." + +"Perhaps it might turn out the other way. Bryce Denning has capacities +in the same line. How far apart, how far above every man there, stood +Basil Stanhope!" + +"He is strikingly handsome and graceful, and I am sure that his luminous +serenity does not arise from apathy. I should say he was a man of very +strong and tender feelings." + +"And he gives all the strength and tenderness of his feelings to Dora. +Men are strange creatures." + +"Who directed Dora's dress this evening?" + +"Herself or her maid. I had nothing to do with it. The effect was +stunning." + +"Fred thought so. In fact, Fred Hostyn----" + +"Fell in love with her." + +"Exactly. 'Fell,' that is the word--fell prostrate. Usually the lover +of to-day walks very timidly and carefully into the condition, step +by step, and calculating every step before he takes it. Fred +plunged headlong into the whirling vortex. I am very sorry. It is a +catastrophe." + +"I never witnessed the accident before. I have heard of men getting +wounds and falls, and developing new faculties in consequence, but we +saw the phenomenon take place this evening." + +"Love, if it be love, is known in a moment. Man who never saw the +sun before would know it was the sun. In Fred's case it was an +instantaneous, impetuous passion, flaming up at the sight of such +unexpected beauty--a passion that will probably fade as rapidly as it +rose." + +"Fred is not that kind of a man, aunt. He does not like every one and +everything, but whoever or whatever he does like becomes a lasting part +of his life. Even the old chairs and tables at Mostyn are held as sacred +objects by him, though I have no doubt an American girl would trundle +them off to the garret. It is the same with the people. He actually +regards the Rawdons as belonging in some way to the Mostyns; and I do +not believe he has ever been in love before." + +"Nonsense!" + +"He was so surprised by the attack. If it had been the tenth or +twentieth time he would have taken it more philosophically; besides, if +he had ever loved any woman, he would have gone on loving her, and we +should have known all about her perfections by this time." + +"Dora is nearly a married woman, and Mostyn knows it." + +"Nearly may make all the difference. When Dora is married he will be +compelled to accept the inevitable and make the best of it." + +"When Dora is married he will idealize her, and assure himself that her +marriage is the tragedy of both their lives." + +"Dora will give him no reason to suppose such a thing. I am sure she +will not. She is too much in love with Mr. Stanhope to notice any other +lover." + +"You are mistaken, Ethel. Swiftly as Fred was vanquished she noticed +it, and many times--once even while leaning on Mr. Stanhope's arm--she +turned the arrow in the heart wound with sweet little glances and +smiles, and pretty appeals to the blind adoration of her new lover. It +was, to me, a humiliating spectacle. How could she do it?" + +"I am sure Dora meant no wrong. It is so natural for a lovely girl to +show off a little. She will marry and forget Fred Mostyn lives." + +"And Fred will forget?" + +"Fred will not forget." + +"Then I shall be very sorry for your father and grandmother." + +"What have they to do with Fred marrying?" + +"A great deal. Fred has been so familiar and homely the last two or +three weeks, that they have come to look upon him as a future member +of the family. It has been 'Cousin Ethel' and 'Aunt Ruth' and even +'grandmother' and 'Cousin Fred,' and no objections have been made to the +use of such personal terms. I think your father hopes for a closer tie +between you and Fred Mostyn than cousinship." + +"Whatever might have been is over. Do you imagine I could consent to be +the secondary deity, to come after Dora--Dora of all the girls I have +ever known? The idea is an insult to my heart and my intelligence. +Nothing on earth could make me submit to such an indignity." + +"I do not suppose, Ethel, that any wife is the first object of her +husband's love." + +"At least they tell her she is so, swear it an inch deep; and no woman +is fool enough to look beyond that oath, but when she is sure that she +is a second best! AH! That is not a position I will ever take in any +man's heart knowingly." + +"Of course, Fred Mostyn will have to marry." + +"Of course, he will make a duty of the event. The line of Mostyns must +be continued. England might go to ruin if the Mostyns perished off the +English earth; but, Aunt Ruth, I count myself worthy of a better fate +than to become a mere branch in the genealogical tree of the Mostyns. +And that is all Fred Mostyn's wife will ever be to him, unless he +marries Dora." + +"But that very supposition implies tragedy, and it is most unlikely." + +"Yes, for Dora is a good little thing. She has never been familiar +with vice. She has even a horror of poor women divorced from impossible +husbands. She believes her marriage will be watched by the angels, and +recorded in heaven. Basil has instructed her to regard marriage as a +holy sacrament, and I am sure he does the same." + +"Then why should we forecast evil to their names? As for Cousin Fred, I +dare say he is comfortably asleep." + +"I am sure he is not. I believe he is smoking and calling himself names +for not having come to New York last May, when father first invited him. +Had he done so things might have been different." + +"Yes, they might. When Good Fortune calls, and the called 'will not when +they may,' then, 'when they will' Good Fortune has become Misfortune. +Welcome a pleasure or a gain at once, or don't answer it at all. It was +on this rock, Ethel, the bark that carried my love went to pieces. I +know; yes, I know!" + +"My dear aunt!" + +"It is all right now, dear; but things might have been that are not. As +to Dora, I think she may be trusted with Basil Stanhope. He is one of +the best and handsomest men I ever saw, and he has now rights in Dora's +love no one can tamper with. Mostyn is an honorable man." + +"All right, but-- + + "Love will venture in, + Where he daurna well be seen; + O Love will venture in, + Where Wisdom once has been-- + +and then, aunt, what then?" + + + + +PART SECOND -- PLAYING WITH FIRE + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE next day after lunch Ethel said she was going to walk down to +Gramercy Park and spend an hour or two with her grandmother, and "Will +you send the carriage for me at five o'clock?" she asked. + +"Your father has ordered the carriage to be at the Holland House at five +o'clock. It can call for you first, and then go to the Holland House. +But do not keep your father waiting. If he is not at the entrance give +your card to the outside porter; he will have it sent up to Fred's +apartments." + +"Then father is calling on Fred? What for? Is he sick?" + +"Oh, no, business of some kind. I hope you will have a pleasant walk." + +"There is no doubt of it." + +Indeed, she was radiant with its exhilaration when she reached Gramercy +Park. As she ran up the steps of the big, old-fashioned house she saw +Madam at the window picking up some dropped stitches in her knitting. +Madam saw her at the same moment, and the old face and the young face +both alike kindled with love, as well as with happy anticipation of +coveted intercourse. + +"I am so glad to see you, darling Granny. I could not wait until +to-morrow." + +"And why should you, child? I have been watching for you all morning. I +want to hear about the Denning dinner. I suppose you went?" + +"Yes, we went; we had to. Dinners in strange houses are a common +calamity; I can't expect to be spared what everyone has to endure." + +"Don't be affected, Ethel. You like going out to dinner. Of course, you +do! It is only natural, considering." + +"I don't, Granny. I like dances and theaters and operas, but I don't +like dinners. However, the Denning dinner was a grand exception. It gave +me and the others a sensation." + +"I expected that." + +"It was beautifully ordered. Majordomo Parkinson saw to that. If he had +arranged it for his late employer, the Duke of Richmond, it could not +have been finer. There was not a break anywhere." + +"How many were present?" + +"Just a dozen." + +"Mr. Denning and Bryce, of course. Who were the others?" + +"Mr. Stanhope, of course. Granny, he wore his clerical dress. It made +him look so remarkable." + +"He did right. A clergyman ought to look different from other men. I +do not believe Basil Stanhope, having assumed the dress of a servant of +God, would put it off one hour for any social exigency. Why should he? +It is a grander attire than any military or naval uniform, and no court +dress is comparable, for it is the court dress of the King of kings." + +"All right, dear Granny; you always make things clear to me, yet I meet +lots of clergymen in evening dress." + +"Then they ought not to be clergymen. They ought not to wear coats in +which they can hold any kind of opinions. Who was your companion?" + +"Jamie Sayer." + +"I never heard of the man." + +"He is an artist, and is painting Dora's likeness. He is getting on now, +but in the past, like all artists, he has suffered a deal." + +"God's will be done. Let them suffer. It is good for genius to suffer. +Is he in love with you?" + +"Gracious, Granny! His head is so full of pictures that no woman could +find room there, and if one did, the next new picture would crowd her +out." + +"End that story, it is long enough." + +"Do you know Miss Ullman?" + +"I have heard of her. Who has not?" + +"She has Bryce Denning on trial now. If he marries her I shall pity +him." + +"Pity him! Not I, indeed! He would have his just reward. Like to like, +and Amen to it." + +"Then there was Claudine Jeffrys, looking quite ethereal, but very +lovely." + +"I know. Her lover was killed in Cuba, and she has been the type of +faithful grief ever since. She looks it and dresses it to perfection." + +"And feels it?" + +"Perhaps she does. I am not skilled in the feelings of pensive, +heart-broken maidens. But her case is a very common one. Lovers are +nowhere against husbands, yet how many thousands of good women lose +their husbands every year? If they are poor, they have to hide their +grief and work for them-selves and their families; if they are rich, +very few people believe that they are really sorry to be widows. Are +any poor creatures more jeered at than widows? No man believes they +are grieving for the loss of their husbands. Then why should they all +sympathize with Claudine about the loss of a lover?" + +"Perhaps lovers are nicer than husbands." + +"Pretty much all alike. I have known a few good husbands. Your +grandfather was one, your father another. But you have said nothing +about Fred. Did he look handsome? Did he make a sensation? Was he a +cousin to be proud of?" + +"Indeed, Granny, Fred was the whole party. He is not naturally handsome, +but he has distinction, and he was well-dressed. And I never heard +anyone talk as he did. He told the most delightful stories, he was full +of mimicry and wit, and said things that brought everyone into the +merry talk; and I am sure he charmed and astonished the whole party. +Mr. Denning asked me quietly afterwards 'what university he was educated +at.' I think he took it all as education, and had some wild ideas of +finishing Bryce in a similar manner." + +Madam was radiant. "I told you so," she said proudly. "The Mostyns have +intellect as well as land. There are no stupid Mostyns. I hope you asked +him to play. I think his way of handling a piano would have taught them +a few things Russians and Poles know nothing about. Poor things! How can +they have any feelings left?" + +"There was no piano in the room, Granny, and the company separated very +soon after dinner." + +"Somehow you ought to have managed it, Ethel." Then with a touch of +anxiety, "I hope all this cleverness was natural--I mean, I hope it +wasn't champagne. You know, Ethel, we think as we drink, and Fred isn't +used to those frisky wines. Mostyn cellars are full of old sherry and +claret, and Fred's father was always against frothing, sparkling wines." + +"Granny, it was all Fred. Wine had nothing to do with it, but a certain +woman had; in fact, she was the inspirer, and Fred fell fifty fathoms +deep in love with her the very moment she entered the room. He heard +not, felt not, thought not, so struck with love was he. Ruth got him +to a window for a few moments and so hid his emotion until he could get +himself together." + +"Oh, what a tale! What a cobweb tale! I don't believe a word of it," and +she laughed merrily. + +"'Tis true as gospel, Granny." + +"Name her, then. Who was the woman?" + +"Dora." + +"It is beyond belief, above belief, out of all reason. It cannot be, +and it shall not be, and if you are making up a story to tease me, Ethel +Rawdon----" + +"Grandmother, let me tell you just how it came about. We were all in the +room waiting for Dora, and she suddenly entered. She was dressed in soft +amber silk from head to feet; diamonds were in her black hair, and on +the bands across her shoulders, on her corsage, on her belt, her hands, +and even her slippers. Under the electric lights she looked as if she +was in a golden aura, scintillating with stars. She took Fred's breath +away. He was talking to Ruth, and he could not finish the word he was +saying. Ruth thought he was going to faint----" + +"Don't tell me such nonsense." + +"Well, grandmother, this nonsense is truth. As I said before, Ruth +took him aside until he got control of himself; then, as he was Dora's +escort, he had to go to her. Ruth introduced them, and as she raised her +soft, black eyes to his, and put her hand on his arm, something happened +again, but this time it was like possession. He was the courtier in a +moment, his eyes flashed back her glances, he gave her smile for smile, +and then when they were seated side by side he became inspired and +talked as I have told you. It is the truth, grandmother." + +"Well, there are many different kinds of fools, but Fred Mostyn is the +worst I ever heard tell of. Does he not know that the girl is engaged?" + +"Knows it as well as I do." + +"None of our family were ever fools before, and I hope Fred will come +round quickly. Do you think Dora noticed the impression she made?" + +"Yes, Aunt Ruth noticed Dora; and Ruth says Dora 'turned the arrow in +the heart wound' all the evening." + +"What rubbish you are talking! Say in good English what you mean." + +"She tried every moment they, were together to make him more and more +in love with her." + +"What is her intention? A girl doesn't carry on that way for nothing." + +"I do not know. Dora has got beyond me lately. And, grandmother, I +am not troubling about the event as it regards Dora or Fred or Basil +Stanhope, but as it regards Ethel." + +"What have you to do with it?" + +"That is just what I want to have clearly understood. Aunt Ruth told me +that father and you would be disappointed if I did not marry Fred." + +"Well?" + +"I am sorry to disappoint you, but I never shall marry Fred Mostyn. +Never!" + +"I rather think you will have to settle that question with your father, +Ethel." + +"No. I have settled it with myself. The man has given to Dora all the +love that he has to give. I will have a man's whole heart, and not +fragments and finger-ends of it." + +"To be sure, that is right. But I can't say much, Ethel, when I only +know one side of the case, can I? I must wait and hear what Fred has +to say. But I like your spirit and your way of bringing what is wrong +straight up to question. You are a bit Yorkshire yet, whatever you think +gets quick to your tongue, and then out it comes. Good girl, your heart +is on your lips." + +They talked the afternoon away on this subject, but Madam's last words +were not only advisory, they were in a great measure sympathetic. "Be +straight with yourself, Ethel," she said, "then Fred Mostyn can do as he +likes; you will be all right." + +She accepted the counsel with a kiss, and then drove to the Holland +House for her father. He was not waiting, as Ruth had supposed he would +be, but then she was five minutes too soon. She sent up her card, and +then let her eyes fall upon a wretched beggar man who was trying to play +a violin, but was unable by reason of hunger and cold. He looked as if +he was dying, and she was moved with a great pity, and longed for her +father to come and give some help. While she was anxiously watching, a +young man was also struck with the suffering on the violinist's face. +He spoke a few words to him, and taking the violin, drew from it such +strains of melody, that in a few moments a crowd had gathered within the +hotel and before it. First there was silence, then a shout of delight; +and when it ceased the player's voice thrilled every heart to passionate +patriotism, as he sang with magnificent power and feeling-- + + There is not a spot on this wide-peopled earth + So dear to our heart as the Land of our Birth, etc. + + +A tumult of hearty applause followed, and then he cried, "Gentlemen, +this old man fought for the land of our birth. He is dying of hunger," +and into the old man's hat he dropped a bill and then handed it round to +millionaire and workingman alike. Ethel's purse was in her hand. As +he passed along the curb at which her carriage stood, he looked at +her eager face, and with a smile held out the battered hat. She, also +smiling, dropped her purse into it. In a few moments the hat was nearly +full; the old man and the money were confided to the care of an hotel +officer, the stream of traffic and pleasure went on its usual way, and +the musician disappeared. + +All that evening the conversation turned constantly to this event. +Mostyn was sure he was a member of some operatic troupe. "Voices of +such rare compass and exceptional training were not to be found among +non-professional people," he said, and Judge Rawdon was of his opinion. + +"His voice will haunt me for many days," he said. "Those two lines, for +instance-- + + 'Tis the home of our childhood, that beautiful spot + Which memory retains when all else is forgot. + +The melody was wonderful. I wish we could find out where he is singing. +His voice, as I said, haunts my ear." + +Ethel might have made the same remark, but she was silent. She had +noticed the musician more closely than her father or Fred Mostyn, and +when Ruth Bayard asked her if his personality was interesting, she was +able to give a very clear description of the man. + +"I do not believe he is a professional singer; he is too young," she +answered. "I should think he was about twenty-five years old, tall, +slender, and alert. He was fashionably dressed, as if he had been, or +was going, to an afternoon reception. Above all things, I should say he +was a gentleman." + +Oh, why are our hearts so accessible to our eyes? Only a smiling glance +had passed between Ethel and the Unknown, yet his image was prisoned +behind the bars of her eyelids. On this day of days she had met Love on +the crowded street, and he had + + "But touched his lute wherein was audible + The certain secret thing he had to tell; + Only their mirrored eyes met silently"; + +and a sweet trouble, a restless, pleasing curiosity, had filled her +consciousness. Who was he? Where had he gone to? When should they meet +again? Ah, she understood now how Emmeline Labiche had felt constrained +to seek her lover from the snows of Canada to the moss-veiled oaks of +Louisiana. + +But her joyous, hopeful soul could not think of love and disappointment +at the same moment. "I have seen him, and I shall see him again. We met +by appointment. Destiny introduced us. Neither of us will forget, and +somewhere, some day, I shall be waiting, and he will come." + +Thus this daughter of sunshine and hope answered herself; and why not? +All good things come to those who can wait in sweet tranquillity for +them, and seldom does Fortune fail to bring love and heart's-ease upon +the changeful stream of changeful days to those who trust her for them. + +On the following morning, when the two girls entered the parlor, they +found the Judge smoking there. He had already breakfasted, and looked +over the three or four newspapers whose opinions he thought worthy of +his consideration. They were lying in a state of confusion at his side, +and Ethel glanced at them curiously. + +"Did any of the papers speak of the singing before the Holland House?" +she asked. + +"Yes. I think reporters must be ubiquitous. All my papers had some sort +of a notice of the affair." + +"What do they say?" + +"One gave the bare circumstances of the case; another indulged in what +was supposed to be humorous description; a third thought it might have +been the result of a bet or dare; a fourth was of the opinion that +conspiracy between the old beggar and the young man was not unlikely, +and credited the exhibition as a cleverly original way of obtaining +money. But all agreed in believing the singer to be a member of some +opera company now in the city." + +Ethel was indignant. "It was neither 'bet' nor 'dare' nor 'conspiracy,'" +she said. "I saw the singer as he came walking rapidly down the avenue, +and he looked as happy and careless as a boy whistling on a country +lane. When his eyes fell on the old man he hesitated, just a moment, +and then spoke to him. I am sure they were absolute strangers to each +other." + +"But how can you be sure of a thing like that, Ethel?" + +"I don't know 'how,' Ruth, but all the same, I am sure. And as for it +being a new way of begging, that is not correct. Not many years ago, one +of the De Reszke brothers led a crippled soldier into a Paris cafe, and +sang the starving man into comfort in twenty minutes." + +"And the angelic Parepa Rosa did as much for a Mexican woman, whom she +found in the depths of sorrow and poverty--brought her lifelong comfort +with a couple of her songs. Is it not likely, then, that the gallant +knight of the Holland House is really a member of some opera company, +that he knew of these examples and followed them?" + +"It is not unlikely, Ruth, yet I do not believe that is the +explanation." + +"Well," said the Judge, throwing his cigarette into the fire, "if the +singer had never heard of De Reszke and Parepa Rosa, we may suppose him +a gentleman of such culture as to be familiar with the exquisite Greek +legend of Phoebus Apollo--that story would be sufficient to inspire any +man with his voice. Do you know it?" + +Both girls answered with an enthusiastic entreaty for its recital, and +the Judge went to the library and returned with a queer-looking little +book, bound in marbled paper. + +"It was my father's copy," he said, "an Oxford edition." And he turned +the leaves with loving carefulness until he came to the incident. Then +being a fine reader, the words fell from his lips in a stately measure +better than music: + +"After Troy fell there came to Argos a scarred soldier seeking alms. +Not deigning to beg, he played upon a lyre; but the handling of arms had +robbed him of his youthful power, and he stood by the portico hour after +hour, and no one dropped him a lepton. Weary, hungry and thirsty, he +leaned in despair against a pillar. A youth came to him and asked, 'Why +not play on, Akeratos?' And Akeratos meekly answered, 'I am no longer +skilled.' 'Then,' said the stranger, 'hire me thy lyre; here is a +didrachmon. I will play, and thou shalt hold out thy cap and be dumb.' +So the stranger took the lyre and swept the strings, and men heard, +as it were, the clashing of swords. And he sang the fall of Troy--how +Hector perished, slain by Achilles, the rush of chariots, the ring of +hoofs, the roar of flames--and as he sang the people stopped to listen, +breathless and eager, with rapt, attentive ear. And when the singer +ceased the soldier's cap was filled with coins, and the people begged +for yet another song. Then he sang of Venus, till all men's hearts were +softly stirred, and the air was purple and misty and full of the scent +of roses. And in their joy men cast before Akeratos not coins only, but +silver bracelets and rings, and gems and ornaments of gold, until the +heap had to its utmost grown, making Akeratos rich in all men's sight. +Then suddenly the singer stood in a blaze of light, and the men of Argos +saw their god of song, Phoebus Apollo, rise in glory to the skies." + +The girls were delighted; the Judge pleased both with his own rendering +of the legend and the manifest appreciation with which it had been +received. For a moment or two all felt the exquisite touch of the +antique world, and Ethel said, in a tone of longing, + +"I wish that I had been a Greek and lived in Argos." + +"You would not have liked it as well as being an American and living in +New York," said her father. + +"And you would have been a pagan," added Ruth. + +"They were such lovely pagans, Ruth, and they dreamed such beautiful +dreams of life. Leave the book with me, father; I will take good care of +it." + +Then the Judge gave her the book, and with a sigh looked into the modern +street. "I ought to be down at Bowling Green instead of reading +Greek stories to you girls," he said rather brusquely. "I have a very +important railway case on my mind, and Phoebus Apollo has nothing to +do with it. Good morning. And, Ethel, do not deify the singer on the +avenue. He will not turn out, like the singer by the portico, to be a +god; be sure of that." + +The door closed before she could answer, and both women remained silent +a few minutes. Then Ethel went to the window, and Ruth asked if she was +going to Dora's. + +"Yes," was the answer, but without interest. + +"You are tired with all this shopping and worry?" + +"It is not only that I am tired, I am troubled about Fred Mostyn." + +"Why?" + +"I do not know why. It is only a vague unrest as yet. But one thing I +know, I shall oppose anything like Fred making himself intimate with +Dora." + +"I think you will do wisely in that." + +But in a week Ethel realized that in opposing a lover like Fred Mostyn +she had a task beyond her ability. Fred had nothing to do as important +in his opinion as the cultivation of his friendship with Dora Denning. +He called it "friendship," but this misnomer deceived no one, not even +Dora. And when Dora encouraged his attentions, how was Ethel to prevent +them without some explanation which would give a sort of reality to what +was as yet a nameless suspicion? + +Yet every day the familiarity increased. He seemed to divine their +engagements. If they went to their jeweler's, or to a bazaar, he was +sure to stroll in after them. When they came out of the milliner's or +modiste's, Fred was waiting. "He had secured a table at Sherry's; he had +ordered lunch, and all was ready." It was too great an effort to resist +his entreaty. Perhaps no one wished to do so. The girls were utterly +tired and hungry, and the thought of one of Fred's lunches was very +pleasant. Even if Basil Stanhope was with them, it appeared to be all +the better. Fred always included Dora's lover with a charming courtesy; +and, indeed, at such hours, was in his most delightful mood. Stanhope +appeared to inspire him. His mentality when the clergyman was present +took possession of every incident that came and went, and clothed it +in wit and pleasantry. Dora's plighted lover honestly thought Dora's +undeclared lover the cleverest and most delightful of men. And he had no +opportunity of noting, as Ethel did, the difference in Fred's attitude +when he was not present. Then Mostyn's merry mood became sentimental, +and his words were charged with soft meanings and looks of adoration, +and every tone and every movement made to express far more than the +tongue would have dared to utter. + +As this flirtation progressed--for on Dora's part it was only vanity and +flirtation--Ethel grew more and more uneasy. She almost wished for some +trifling overt act which would give her an excuse for warning Dora; and +one day, after three weeks of such philandering, the opportunity came. + +"I think you permit Fred Mostyn to take too much liberty with you, +Dora," she said as soon as they were in Dora's parlor, and as she spoke +she threw off her coat in a temper which effectively emphasized the +words. + +"I have been expecting this ill-nature, Ethel. You were cross all the +time we were at lunch. You spoiled all our pleasure Pray, what have I +been doing wrong with Fred Mostyn?" + +"It was Fred who did wrong. His compliments to you were outrageous. +He has no right to say such things, and you have no right to listen to +them." + +"I am not to blame if he compliments me instead of you. He was simply +polite, but then it was to the wrong person." + +"Of course it was. Such politeness he had no right to offer you." + +"It would have been quite proper if offered you, I suppose?" + +"It would not. It would have been a great impertinence. I have given +him neither claim nor privilege to address me as 'My lovely Ethel!' He +called you many times 'My lovely Dora!' You are not his lovely Dora. +When he put on your coat, he drew you closer than was proper; and I saw +him take your hand and hold it in a clasp--not necessary." + +"Why do you listen and watch? It is vulgar. You told me so yourself. And +I am lovely. Basil says that as well as Fred. Do you want a man to lie +and say I am ugly?" + +"You are fencing the real question. He had no business to use the word +'my.' You are engaged to Basil Stanhope, not to Fred Mostyn." + +"I am Basil's lovely fiancee; I am Fred's lovely friend." + +"Oh! I hope Fred understands the difference." + +"Of course he does. Some people are always thinking evil." + +"I was thinking of Mr. Stanhope's rights." + +"Thank you, Ethel; but I can take care of Mr. Stanhope's rights without +your assistance. If you had said you were thinking of Ethel Rawdon's +rights you would have been nearer the truth." + +"Dora, I will not listen----" + +"Oh, you shall listen to me! I know that you expected Fred to fall in +love with you, but if he did not like to do so, am I to blame?" Ethel +was resuming her coat at this point in the conversation, and Dora +understood the proud silence with which the act was being accomplished. +Then a score of good reasons for preventing such a definite quarrel +flashed through her selfish little mind, and she threw her arms around +Ethel and begged a thousand pardons for her rudeness. And Ethel had +also reasons for avoiding dissension at this time. A break in their +friendship now would bring Dora forward to explain, and Dora had a +wonderful cleverness in presenting her own side of any question. Ethel +shrunk from her innuendoes concerning Fred, and she knew that Basil +would be made to consider her a meddling, jealous girl who willingly saw +evil in Dora's guileless enjoyment of a clever man's company. + +To be misunderstood, to be blamed and pitied, to be made a pedestal +for Dora's superiority, was a situation not to be contemplated. It was +better to look over Dora's rudeness in the flush of Dora's pretended +sorrow for it. So they forgave each other, or said they did, and +then Dora explained herself. She declared that she had not the least +intention of any wrong. "You see, Ethel, what a fool the man is about +me. Somebody says we ought to treat a fool according to his folly. That +is all I was doing. I am sure Basil is so far above Fred Mostyn that I +could never put them in comparison--and Basil knows it. He trusts me." + +"Very well, Dora. If Basil knows it, and trusts you, I have no more to +say. I am now sorry I named the subject." + +"Never mind, we will forget that it was named. The fact is, Ethel, I +want all the fun I can get now. When I am Basil's wife I shall have to +be very sedate, and of course not even pretend to know if any other man +admires me. Little lunches with Fred, theater and opera parties, and +even dances will be over for me. Oh, dear, how much I am giving up for +Basil! And sometimes I think he never realizes how dreadful it must be +for me." + +"You will have your lover all the time then. Surely his constant +companionship will atone for all you relinquish." + +"Take off your coat and hat, Ethel, and sit down comfortably. I don't +know about Basil's constant companionship. Tete-a-tetes are tiresome +affairs sometimes." + +"Yes," replied Ethel, as she half-reluctantly removed her coat, "they +were a bore undoubtedly even in Paradise. I wonder if Eve was tired of +Adam's conversation, and if that made her listen to--the other party." + +"I am so glad you mentioned that circumstance, Ethel. I shall remember +it. Some day, no doubt, I shall have to remind Basil of the failure of +Adam to satisfy Eve's idea of perfect companionship." And Dora put her +pretty, jeweled hands up to her ears and laughed a low, musical laugh +with a childish note of malice running through it. + +This pseudo-reconciliation was not conducive to pleasant intercourse. +After a short delay Ethel made an excuse for an early departure, and +Dora accepted it without her usual remonstrance. The day had been one +of continual friction, and Dora's irritable pettishness hard to bear, +because it had now lost that childish unreason which had always +induced Ethel's patience, for Dora had lately put away all her ignorant +immaturities. She had become a person of importance, and had realized +the fact. The young ladies of St. Jude's had made a pet of their revered +rector's love, and the elder ladies had also shown a marked interest in +her. The Dennings' fine house was now talked about and visited. Men of +high financial power respected Mr. Dan Denning, and advised the social +recognition of his family; and Mrs. Denning was not now found more +eccentric than many other of the new rich, who had been tolerated in +the ranks of the older plutocrats. Even Bryce had made the standing +he desired. He was seen with the richest and idlest young men, and was +invited to the best houses. Those fashionable women who had marriageable +daughters considered him not ineligible, and men temporarily +hampered for cash knew that they could find smiling assistance for a +consideration at Bryce's little office on William Street. + +These and other points of reflection troubled Ethel, and she was +glad the long trial was nearing its end, for she knew quite well the +disagreement of that evening had done no good. Dora would certainly +repeat their conversation, in her own way of interpreting it, to both +Basil Stanhope and Fred Mostyn. More than likely both Bryce and Mrs. +Denning would also hear how her innocent kindness had been misconstrued; +and in each case she could imagine the conversation that took place, and +the subsequent bestowal of pitying, scornful or angry feeling that would +insensibly find its way to her consciousness without any bird of the air +to carry it. + +She felt, too, that reprisals of any kind were out of the question. They +were not only impolitic, they were difficult. Her father had an aversion +to Dora, and was likely to seize the first opportunity for requesting +Ethel to drop the girl's acquaintance. Ruth also had urged her to +withdraw from any active part in the wedding, strengthening her advice +with the assurance that when a friendship began to decline it ought to +be abandoned at once. There was only her grandmother to go to, and at +first she did not find her at all interested in the trouble. She had +just had a dispute with her milkman, was inclined to give him all her +suspicions and all her angry words--"an impertinent, cheating creature," +she said; and then Ethel had to hear the history of the month's cream +and of the milkman's extortion, with the old lady's characteristic +declaration: + +"I told him plain what I thought of his ways, but I paid him every cent +I owed him. Thank God, I am not unreasonable!" + +Neither was she unreasonable when Ethel finally got her to listen to her +own serious grievance with Dora. + +"If you will have a woman for a friend, Ethel, you must put up with +womanly ways; and it is best to keep your mouth shut concerning such +ways. I hate to see you whimpering and whining about wrongs you have +been cordially inviting for weeks and months and years." + +"Grandmother!" + +"Yes, you have been sowing thorns for yourself, and then you go unshod +over them. I mean that Dora has this fine clergyman, and Fred Mostyn, +and her brother, and mother, and father all on her side; all of them +sure that Dora can do no wrong, all of them sure that Ethel, poor girl, +must be mistaken, or prudish, or jealous, or envious." + +"Oh, grandmother, you are too cruel." + +"Why didn't you have a few friends on your own side?" + +"Father and Ruth never liked Dora. And Fred--I told you how Fred acted +as soon as he saw her!" + +"There was Royal Wheelock, James Clifton, or that handsome Dick Potter. +Why didn't you ask them to join you at your lunches and dances? You +ought to have pillared your own side. A girl without her beaux is always +on the wrong side if the girl with beaux is against her." + +"It was the great time of Dora's life. I wished her to have all the +glory of it." + +"All her own share--that was right. All of your share, also--that was as +wrong as it could be." + +"Clifton is yachting, Royal and I had a little misunderstanding, and +Dick Potter is too effusive." + +"But Dick's effusiveness would have been a good thing for Fred's +effusiveness. Two men can't go on a complimentary ran-tan at the same +table. They freeze one another out. That goes without saying. But Dora's +indiscretions are none of your business while she is under her father's +roof; and I don't know if she hadn't a friend in the world, if they +would be your business. I have always been against people trying to do +the work of THEM that are above us. We are told THEY seek and THEY +save, and it's likely they will look after Dora in spite of her being so +unknowing of herself as to marry a priest in a surplice, when a fool in +motley would have been more like the thing." + +"I don't want to quarrel with Dora. After all, I like her. We have been +friends a long time." + +"Well, then, don't make an enemy of her. One hundred friends are too few +against one enemy. One hundred friends will wish you well, and one enemy +will DO you ill. God love you, child! Take the world as you find it. +Only God can make it any better. When is this blessed wedding to come +off?" + +"In two weeks. You got cards, did you not?" + +"I believe I did. They don't matter. Let Dora and her flirtations alone, +unless you set your own against them. Like cures like. If the priest +sees nothing wrong----" + +"He thinks all she does is perfect." + +"I dare say. Priests are a soft lot, they'll believe anything. He's +love-blind at present. Some day, like the prophet of Pethor, [1] he will +get his eyes opened. As for Fred Mostyn, I shall have a good deal to say +about him by and by, so I'll say nothing now." + +[Footnote 1: One of the Hebrew prophets.] + +"You promised, grandmother, not to talk to me any more about Fred." + +"It was a very inconsiderate promise, a very irrational promise! I am +sorry I made it--and I don't intend to keep it." + +"Well, it takes two to hold a conversation, grandmother." + +"To be sure it does. But if I talk to you, I hope to goodness you will +have the decency to answer me. I wouldn't believe anything different." +And she looked into Ethel's face with such a smiling confidence in her +good will and obedience, that Ethel could only laugh and give her twenty +kisses as she stood up to put on her hat and coat. + +"You always get your way, Granny," she said; and the old lady, as she +walked with her to the door, answered, "I have had my way for nearly +eighty years, dearie, and I've found it a very good way. I'm not likely +to change it now." + +"And none of us want you to change it, dear. Granny's way is always a +wise way." And she kissed her again ere she ran down the steps to her +carriage. Yet as the old lady stepped slowly back to the parlor, she +muttered, "Fred Mostyn is a fool! If he had any sense when he left +England, he has lost it since he came here." + +Of course nothing good came of this irritable interference. Meddling +with the conscience of another person is a delicate and difficult +affair, and Ruth had already warned Ethel of its certain futility. But +the days were rapidly wearing away to the great day, for which so +many other days had been wasted in fatiguing worry, and incredible +extravagance of health and temper and money--and after it? There would +certainly be a break in associations. Temptation would be removed, and +Basil Stanhope, relieved for a time from all the duties of his office, +would have continual opportunities for making eternally secure the +affection of the woman he had chosen. + +It was to be a white wedding, and for twenty hours previous to its +celebration it seemed as if all the florists in New York were at work in +the Denning house and in St. Jude's church. The sacred place was radiant +with white lilies. White lilies everywhere; and the perfume would have +been overpowering, had not the weather been so exquisite that open +windows were possible and even pleasant. To the softest strains of music +Dora entered leaning on her father's arm and her beauty and splendor +evoked from the crowd present an involuntary, simultaneous stir of +wonder and delight. She had hesitated many days between the simplicity +of white chiffon and lilies of the valley, and the magnificence of +brocaded satin in which a glittering thread of silver was interwoven. +The satin had won the day, and the sunshine fell upon its beauty, as +she knelt at the altar, like sunshine falling upon snow. It shone +and gleamed and glistened as if it were an angel's robe; and this +scintillating effect was much increased by the sparkling of the diamonds +in her hair, and at her throat and waist and hands and feet. Nor was +her brilliant youth affected by the overshadowing tulle usually so +unbecoming. It veiled her from head to feet, and was held in place by +a diamond coronal. All her eight maids, though lovely girls, looked wan +and of the earth beside her. For her sake they had been content with +the simplicity of chiffon and white lace hats, and she stood among them +lustrous as some angelic being. Stanhope was entranced by her beauty, +and no one on this day wondered at his infatuation or thought remarkable +the ecstasy of reverent rapture with which he received the hand of his +bride. His sense of the gift was ravishing. She was now his love, his +wife forever, and when Ethel slipped forward to part and throw backward +the concealing veil, he very gently restrained her, and with his own +hands uncovered the blushing beauty, and kissed her there at the altar. +Then amid a murmur and stir of delighted sympathy he took his wife upon +his arm, and turned with her to the life they were to face together. + +Two hours later all was a past dream. Bride and bridegroom had slipped +quietly away, and the wedding guests had arrived at that rather noisy +indifference which presages the end of an entertainment. Then flushed +and tired with hurrying congratulations and good wishes that stumbled +over each other, carriage after carriage departed; and Ethel and her +companions went to Dora's parlor to rest awhile and discuss the event of +the day. But Dora's parlor was in a state of confusion. It had, too, an +air of loss, and felt like a gilded cage from which the bird had flown. +They looked dismally at its discomfort and went downstairs. Men were +removing the faded flowers or sitting at the abandoned table eating +and drinking. Everywhere there was disorder and waste, and from the +servants' quarter came a noisy sense of riotous feasting. + +"Where is Mrs. Denning?" Ethel asked a footman who was gathering +together the silver with the easy unconcern of a man whose ideas were +rosy with champagne. He looked up with a provoking familiarity at the +question, and sputtered out, "She's lying down crying and making a fuss. +Miss Day is with her, soothing of her." + +"Let us go home," said Ethel. + +And so, weary with pleasure, and heart-heavy with feelings that had no +longer any reason to exist, pale with fatigue, untidy with crush, their +pretty white gowns sullied and passe, each went her way; in every heart +a wonder whether the few hilarious hours of strange emotions were worth +all they claimed as their right and due. + +Ruth had gone home earlier, and Ethel found her resting in her room. "I +am worn out, Ruth," was her first remark. "I am going to bed for three +or four days. It was a dreadful ordeal." + +"One to which you may have to submit." + +"Certainly not. My marriage will be a religious ceremony, with half a +dozen of my nearest relatives as witnesses." + +"I noticed Fred slip away before Dora went. He looked ill." + +"I dare say he is ill--and no wonder. Good night, Ruth. I am going to +sleep. Tell father all about the wedding. I don't want to hear it named +again--not as long as I live." + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THREE days passed and Ethel had regained her health and spirits, but +Fred Mostyn had not called since the wedding. Ruth thought some inquiry +ought to be made, and Judge Rawdon called at the Holland House. There +he was told that Mr. Mostyn had not been well, and the young man's +countenance painfully confessed the same thing. + +"My dear Fred, why did you not send us word you were ill?" asked the +Judge. + +"I had fever, sir, and I feared it might be typhoid. Nothing of the +kind, however. I shall be all right in a day or two." + +The truth was far from typhoid, and Fred knew it. He had left the +wedding breakfast because he had reached the limit of his endurance. +Words, stinging as whips, burned like hot coals in his mouth, and he +felt that he could not restrain them much longer. Hastening to his +hotel, he locked himself in his rooms, and passed the night in a frenzy +of passion. The very remembrance of the bridegroom's confident transport +put mur-der in his heart--murder which he could only practice by his +wishes, impotent to compass their desires. + +"I wish the fellow shot! I wish him hanged! I would kill him twenty +times in twenty different ways! And Dora! Dora! Dora! What did she see +in him? What could she see? Love her? He knows nothing of love--such +love as tortures me." Backwards and forwards he paced the floor to such +imprecations and ejaculations as welled up from the whirlpool of rage in +his heart, hour following hour, till in the blackness of his misery he +could no longer speak. His brain had become stupefied by the iteration +of inevitable loss, and so refused any longer to voice a woe beyond +remedy. Then he stood still and called will and reason to council him. +"This way madness lies," he thought. "I must be quiet--I must sleep--I +must forget." + +But it was not until the third day that a dismal, sullen stillness +succeeded the storm of rage and grief, and he awoke from a sleep of +exhaustion feeling as if he were withered at his heart. He knew that +life had to be taken up again, and that in all its farces he must play +his part. At first the thought of Mostyn Hall presented itself as an +asylum. It stood amid thick woods, and there were miles of wind-blown +wolds and hills around it. He was lord and master there, no one could +intrude upon his sorrow; he could nurse it in those lonely rooms to +his heart's content. Every day, however, this gloomy resolution grew +fainter, and one morning he awoke and laughed it to scorn. + +"Frederick's himself again," he quoted, "and he must have been very far +off himself when he thought of giving up or of running away. No, Fred +Mostyn, you will stay here. 'Tis a country where the impossible does not +exist, and the unlikely is sure to happen--a country where marriage is +not for life or death, and where the roads to divorce are manifold and +easy. There are a score of ways and means. I will stay and think them +over; 'twill be odd if I cannot force Fate to change her mind." + +A week after Dora's marriage he found himself able to walk up the +avenue to the Rawdon house; but he arrived there weary and wan enough +to instantly win the sympathy of Ruth and Ethel, and he was immensely +strengthened by the sense of home and kindred, and of genuine kindness +to which he felt a sort of right. He asked Ruth if he might eat dinner +with them. He said he was hungry, and the hotel fare did not tempt him. +And when Judge Rawdon returned he welcomed him in the same generous +spirit, and the evening passed delightfully away. At its close, however, +as Mostyn stood gloved and hatted, and the carriage waited for him, he +said a few words to Judge Rawdon which changed the mental and social +atmosphere. "I wish to have a little talk with you, sir, on a business +matter of some importance. At what hour can I see you to-morrow?" + +"I am engaged all day until three in the afternoon, Fred. Suppose I call +on you about four or half-past?" + +"Very well, sir." + +But both Ethel and Ruth wondered if it was "very well." A shadow, +fleeting as thought, had passed over Judge Rawdon's face when he +heard the request for a business interview, and after the young man's +departure he lost himself in a reverie which was evidently not a happy +one. But he said nothing to the girls, and they were not accustomed to +question him. + +The next morning, instead of going direct to his office, he stopped at +Madam, his moth-er's house in Gramercy Park. A visit at such an early +hour was unusual, and the old lady looked at him in alarm. + +"We are well, mother," he said as she rose. "I called to talk to you +about a little business." Whereupon Madam sat down, and became suddenly +about twenty years younger, for "business" was a word like a watch-cry; +she called all her senses together when it was uttered in her presence. + +"Business!" she ejaculated sharply. "Whose business?" + +"I think I may say the business of the whole family." + +"Nay, I am not in it. My business is just as I want it, and I am not +going to talk about it--one way or the other." + +"Is not Rawdon Court of some interest to you? It has been the home and +seat of the family for many centuries. A good many. Mostyn women have +been its mistress." + +"I never heard of any Mostyn woman who would not have been far happier +away from Rawdon Court. It was a Calvary to them all. There was little +Nannie Mostyn, who died with her first baby because Squire Anthony +struck her in a drunken passion; and the proud Alethia Mostyn, who +suffered twenty years' martyrdom from Squire John; and Sara, who took +thirty thousand pounds to Squire Hubert, to fling away at the green +table; and Harriet, who was made by her husband, Squire Humphrey, to +jump a fence when out hunting with him, and was brought home crippled +and scarred for life--a lovely girl of twenty who went through agonies +for eleven years without aught of love and help, and died alone while he +was following a fox; and there was pretty Barbara Mostyn----" + +"Come, come, mother. I did not call here this morning to hear the +Rawdons abused, and you forget your own marriage. It was a happy one, I +am sure. One Rawdon, at least, must be excepted; and I think I treated +my wife as a good husband ought to treat a wife." + +"Not you! You treated Mary very badly." + +"Mother, not even from you----" + +"I'll say it again. The little girl was dying for a year or more, and +you were so busy making money you never saw it. If she said or looked +a little complaint, you moved restless-like and told her 'she moped too +much.' As the end came I spoke to you, and you pooh-poohed all I said. +She went suddenly, I know, to most people, but she knew it was her last +day, and she longed so to see you, that I sent a servant to hurry you +home, but she died before you could make up your mind to leave your +'cases.' She and I were alone when she whispered her last message for +you--a loving one, too." + +"Mother! Mother! Why recall that bitter day? I did not think--I swear I +did not think----" + +"Never mind swearing. I was just reminding you that the Rawdons have +not been the finest specimens of good husbands. They make landlords, and +judges, and soldiers, and even loom-lords of a very respectable sort; +but husbands! Lord help their poor wives! So you see, as a Mostyn woman, +I have no special interest in Rawdon Court." + +"You would not like it to go out of the family?" + +"I should not worry myself if it did." + +"I suppose you know Fred Mostyn has a mortgage on it that the present +Squire is unable to lift." + +"Aye, Fred told me he had eighty thousand pounds on the old place. I +told him he was a fool to put his money on it." + +"One of the finest manors and manor-houses in England, mother." + +"I have seen it. I was born and brought up near enough to it, I think." + +"Eighty thousand pounds is a bagatelle for the place; yet if Fred forces +a sale, it may go for that, or even less. I can't bear to think of it." + +"Why not buy it yourself?" + +"I would lift the mortgage to-morrow if I had the means. I have not at +present." + +"Well, I am in the same box. You have just spoken as if the Mostyns +and Rawdons had an equal interest in Rawdon Court. Very well, then, it +cannot be far wrong for Fred Mostyn to have it. Many a Mostyn has gone +there as wife and slave. I would dearly like to see one Mostyn go as +master." + +"I shall get no help from you, then, I understand that." + +"I'm Mostyn by birth, I'm only Rawdon by, marriage. The birth-band ties +me fast to my family." + +"Good morning, mother. You have failed me for the first time in your +life." + +"If the money had been for you, Edward, or yours----" + +"It is--good-by." + +She called him back peremptorily, and he returned and stood at the open +door. + +"Why don't you ask Ethel?" + +"I did not think I had the right, mother." + +"More right to ask her than I. See what she says. She's Rawdon, every +inch of her." + +"Perhaps I may. Of course, I can sell securities, but it would be at a +sacrifice a great sacrifice at present." + +"Ethel has the cash; and, as I said, she is Rawdon--I'm not." + +"I wish my father were alive." + +"He wouldn't move me--you needn't think that. What I have said to you I +would have said to him. Speak to Ethel. I'll be bound she'll listen if +Rawdon calls her." + +"I don't like to speak to Ethel." + +"It isn't what you like to do, it's what you find you'll have to do, +that carries the day; and a good thing, too, considering." + +"Good morning, again. You are not quite yourself, I think." + +"Well, I didn't sleep last night, so there's no wonder if I'm a bit +cross this morning. But if I lose my temper, I keep my understanding." + +She was really cross by this time. Her son had put her in a position she +did not like to assume. No love for Rawdon Court was in her heart. She +would rather have advanced the money to buy an American estate. She +had been little pleased at Fred's mortgage on the old place, but to +the American Rawdons she felt it would prove a white elephant; and +the appeal to Ethel was advised because she thought it would amount to +nothing. In the first place, the Judge had the strictest idea of the +sacredness of the charge committed to him as guardian of his daughter's +fortune. In the second, Ethel inherited from her Yorkshire ancestry an +intense sense of the value and obligations of money. She was an ardent +American, and not likely to spend it on an old English manor; and, +furthermore, Madam's penetration had discovered a growing dislike in her +granddaughter for Fred Mostyn. + +"She'd never abide him for a lifelong neighbor," the old lady decided. +"It is the Rawdon pride in her. The Rawdon men have condescended to go +to Mostyn for wives many and many a time, but never once have the Mostyn +men married a Rawdon girl--proud, set-up women, as far as I remember; +and Ethel has a way with her just like them. Fred is good enough and +nice enough for any girl, and I wonder what is the matter with him! +It is a week and more since he was here, and then he wasn't a bit like +himself." + +At this moment the bell rang and she heard Fred's voice inquiring "if +Madam was at home." Instantly she divined the motive of his call. The +young man had come to the conclusion the Judge would try to influence +his mother, and before meeting him in the afternoon he wished to have +some idea of the trend matters were likely to take. His policy--cunning, +Madam called it--did not please her. She immediately assured herself +that "she wouldn't go against her own flesh and blood for anyone," and +his wan face and general air of wretchedness further antagonized her. +She asked him fretfully "what he had been doing to himself, for," she +added, "it's mainly what we do to ourselves that makes us sick. Was it +that everlasting wedding of the Denning girl?" + +He flushed angrily, but answered with much of the same desire to annoy, +"I suppose it was. I felt it very much. Dora was the loveliest girl in +the city. There are none left like her." + +"It will be a good thing for New York if that is the case. I'm not one +that wants the city to myself, but I can spare Dora STANHOPE, and feel +the better for it." + +"The most beautiful of God's creatures!" + +"You've surely lost your sight or your judgment, Fred. She is just a +dusky-skinned girl, with big, brown eyes. You can pick her sort up by +the thousand in any large city. And a wandering-hearted, giddy creature, +too, that will spread as she goes, no doubt. I'm sorry for Basil +Stanhope, he didn't deserve such a fate." + +"Indeed, he did not! It is beyond measure too good for him." + +"I've always heard that affliction is the surest way to heaven. Dora +will lead him that road, and it will be more sure than pleasant. Poor +fellow! He'll soon be as ready to curse his wedding-day as Job was to +curse his birthday. A costly wife she will be to keep, and misery in the +keeping of her. But if you came to talk to me about Dora STANHOPE, I'll +cease talking, for I don't find it any great entertainment." + +"I came to talk to you about Squire Rawdon." + +"What about the Squire? Keep it in your mind that he and I were +sweethearts when we were children. I haven't forgotten that fact." + +"You know Rawdon Court is mortgaged to me?" + +"I've heard you say so--more than once." + +"I intend to foreclose the mortgage in September. I find that I can +get twice yes, three times--the interest for my money in American +securities." + +"How do you know they are securities?" + +"Bryce Denning has put me up to several good things." + +"Well, if you think good things can come that road, you are a bigger +fool than I ever thought you." + +"Fool! Madam, I allow no one to call me a fool, especially without +reason." + +"Reason, indeed! What reason was there in your dillydallying after Dora +Denning when she was engaged, and then making yourself like a ghost for +her after she is married? As for the good things Bryce Denning offers +you in exchange for a grand English manor, take them, and then if I +called you not fool before, I will call you fool in your teeth twice +over, and much too good for you! Aye, I could call you a worse name when +I think of the old Squire--he's two years older than I am--being turned +out of his lifelong home. Where is he to go to?" + +"If I buy the place, for of course it will have to be sold, he is +welcome to remain at Rawdon Court." + +"And he would deserve to do it if he were that low-minded; but if I know +Squire Percival, he will go to the poor-house first. Fred, you would +surely scorn such a dirty thing as selling the old man out of house and +home?" + +"I want my money, or else I want Rawdon Manor." + +"And I have no objections either to your wanting it or having it, but, +for goodness' sake, wait until death gives you a decent warrant for +buying it." + +"I am afraid to delay. The Squire has been very cool with me lately, and +my agent tells me the Tyrrel-Rawdons have been visiting him, also that +he has asked a great many questions about the Judge and Ethel. He is +evidently trying to prevent me getting possession, and I know that old +Nicholas Rawdon would give his eyelids to own Rawdon Court. As to the +Judge----" + +"My son wants none of it. You can make your mind easy on that score." + +"I think I behaved very decently, though, of course, no one gives me +credit for it; for as soon as I saw I must foreclose in order to get my +own I thought at once of Ethel. It seemed to me that if we could love +each other the money claims of Mostyn and the inherited claims of Rawdon +would both be satisfied. Unfortunately, I found that I could not love +Ethel as a wife should be loved." + +"And I can tell you, Fred, that Ethel never could have loved you as a +husband should be loved. She was a good deal disappointed in you from +the very first." + +"I thought I made a favorable impression on her." + +"In a way. She said you played the piano nicely; but Ethel is all for +handsome men, tall, erect six-footers, with a little swing and swagger +to them. She thought you small and finicky. But Ethel's rich enough to +have her fancy, I hope." + +"It is little matter now what she thought. I can't please every one." + +"No, it's rather harder to do that than most people think it is. I +would please my conscience first of all, Fred. That's the point worth +mentioning. And I shall just remind you of one thing more: your money +all in a lump on Rawdon Manor is safe. It is in one place, and in such +shape as it can't run away nor be smuggled away by any man's trickery. +Now, then, turn your eighty thousand pounds into dollars, and divide +them among a score of securities, and you'll soon find out that a +fortune may be easily squandered when it is in a great many hands, and +that what looks satisfactory enough when reckoned up on paper doesn't +often realize in hard money to the same tune. I've said all now I am +going to say." + +"Thank you for the advice given me. I will take it as far as I can. This +afternoon the Judge has promised to talk over the business with me." + +"The Judge never saw Rawdon Court, and he cares nothing about it, but he +can give you counsel about the 'good things' Bryce Denning offers you. +And you may safely listen to it, for, right or wrong, I see plainly it +is your own advice you will take in the long run." + +Mostyn laughed pleasantly and went back to his hotel to think over the +facts gleaned from his conversation with Madam. In the first place, +he understood that any overt act against Squire Rawdon would be deeply +resented by his American relatives. But then he reminded himself that +his own relationship with them was merely sentiment. He had now nothing +to hope for in the way of money. Madam's apparently spontaneous and +truthful assertion, that the Judge cared nothing for Rawdon Court, was, +however, very satisfactory to him. He had been foolish enough to think +that the thing he desired so passionately was of equal value in +the estimation of others. He saw now that he was wrong, and he then +remembered that he had never found Judge Rawdon to evince either +interest or curiosity about the family home. + +If he had been a keen observer, the Judge's face when he called might +have given his comfortable feelings some pause. It was contracted, +subtle, intricate, but he came forward with a congratulation on Mostyn's +improved appearance. "A few weeks at the seaside would do you good," he +added, and Mostyn answered, "I think of going to Newport for a month." + +"And then?" + +"I want your opinion about that. McLean advises me to see the +country--to go to Chicago, St. Louis, Denver, cross the Rockies, and on +to California. It seems as if that would be a grand summer programme. +But my lawyer writes me that the man in charge at Mostyn is cutting too +much timber and is generally too extravagant. Then there is the question +of Rawdon Court. My finances will not let me carry the mortgage on it +longer, unless I buy the place." + +"Are you thinking of that as probable?" + +"Yes. It will have to be sold. And Mostyn seems to be the natural owner +after Rawdon. The Mostyns have married Rawdons so frequently that we are +almost like one family, and Rawdon Court lies, as it were, at Mostyn's +gate. The Squire is now old, and too easily persuaded for his own +welfare, and I hear the Tyrrel-Rawdons have been visiting him. Such a +thing would have been incredible a few years ago." + +"Who are the Tyrrel-Rawdons? I have no acquaintance with them." + +"They are the descendants of that Tyrrel-Rawdon who a century ago +married a handsome girl who was only an innkeeper's daughter. He was of +course disowned and disinherited, and his children sank to the lowest +social grade. Then when power-loom weaving was introduced they went to +the mills, and one of them was clever and saved money and built a little +mill of his own, and his son built a much larger one, and made a great +deal of money, and became Mayor of Leeds. The next generation saw the +Tyrrel-Rawdons the largest loom-lords in Yorkshire. One of the youngest +generation was my opponent in the last election and beat me--a Radical +fellow beats the Conservative candidate always where weavers and +spinners hold the vote but I thought it my duty to uphold the Mostyn +banner. You know the Mostyns have always been Tories and Conservatives." + +"Excuse me, but I am afraid I am ignorant concerning Mostyn politics. I +take little interest in the English parties." + +"Naturally. Well, I hope you will take an interest in my affairs and +give me your advice about the sale of Rawdon Court." + +"I think my advice would be useless. In the first place, I never saw the +Court. My father had an old picture of it, which has somehow disappeared +since his death, but I cannot say that even this picture interested me +at all. You know I am an American, born on the soil, and very proud +of it. Then, as you are acquainted with all the ins and outs of the +difficulties and embarrassments, and I know nothing at all about them, +you would hardly be foolish enough to take my opinion against your own. +I suppose the Squire is in favor of your buying the Court?" + +"I never named the subject to him. I thought perhaps he might have +written to you on the matter. You are the last male of the house in that +line." + +"He has never written to me about the Court. Then, I am not the last +male. From what you say, I think the Tyrrel-Rawdons could easily supply +an heir to Rawdon." + +"That is the thing to be avoided. It would be a great offense to the +county families." + +"Why should they be considered? A Rawdon is always a Rawdon." + +"But a cotton spinner, sir! A mere mill-owner!" + +"Well, I do not feel with you and the other county people in that +respect. I think a cotton spinner, giving bread to a thousand families, +is a vastly more respectable and important man than a fox-hunting, idle +landlord. A mill-owning Rawdon might do a deal of good in the sleepy old +village of Monk-Rawdon." + +"Your sentiments are American, not English, sir." + +"As I told you, we look at things from very different standpoints." + +"Do you feel inclined to lift the mortgage yourself, Judge?" + +"I have not the power, even if I had the inclination to do so. My +money is well invested, and I could not, at this time, turn bonds and +securities into cash without making a sacrifice not to be contemplated. +I confess, however, that if the Court has to be sold, I should like the +Tyrrel-Rawdons to buy it. I dare say the picture of the offending youth +is still in the gallery, and I have heard my mother say that what is +another's always yearns for its lord. Driven from his heritage for +Love's sake, it would be at least interesting if Gold gave back to his +children what Love lost them." + +"That is pure sentiment. Surely it would be more natural that the +Mostyns should succeed the Rawdons. We have, as it were, bought the +right with at least a dozen intermarriages." + +"That also is pure sentiment. Gold at last will carry the succession." + +"But not your gold, I infer?" + +"Not my gold; certainly not." + +"Thank you for your decisive words They make my course clear." + +"That is well. As to your summer movements, I am equally unable to +give you advice. I think you need the sea for a month, and after that +McLean's scheme is good. And a return to Mostyn to look after your +affairs is equally good. If I were you, I should follow my inclinations. +If you put your heart into anything, it is well done and enjoyed; if +you do a thing because you think you ought to do it, failure and +disappointment are often the results. So do as you want to do; it is the +only advice I can offer you." + +"Thank you, sir. It is very acceptable. I may leave for Newport +to-morrow. I shall call on the ladies in the morning." + +"I will tell them, but it is just possible that they, too, go to the +country to-morrow, to look after a little cottage on the Hudson we +occupy in the summer. Good-by, and I hope you will soon recover your +usual health." + +Then the Judge lifted his hat, and with a courteous movement left the +room. His face had the same suave urbanity of expression, but he could +hardly restrain the passion in his heart. Placid as he looked when he +entered his house, he threw off all pretenses as soon as he reached his +room. The Yorkshire spirit which Ethel had declared found him out once +in three hundred and sixty-four days and twenty-three hours was then in +full pos-session. The American Judge had disappeared. He looked as like +his ancestors as anything outside of a painted picture could do. His +flushed face, his flashing eyes, his passionate exclamations, the stamp +of his foot, the blow of his hand, the threatening attitude of his +whole figure was but a replica of his great-grandfather, Anthony Rawdon, +giving Radicals at the hustings or careless keepers at the kennels "a +bit of his mind." + +"'Mostyn, seems to be the natural owner of Rawdon! Rawdon Court lies +at Mostyn's gate! Natural that the Mostyns should succeed the Rawdons! +Bought the right by a dozen intermarriages!' Confound the impudent +rascal! Does he think I will see Squire Rawdon rogued out of his home? +Not if I can help it! Not if Ethel can help it! Not if heaven and +earth can help it! He's a downright rascal! A cool, unruffled, impudent +rascal!" And these ejaculations were followed by a bitter, biting, +blasting hailstorm of such epithets as could only be written with one +letter and a dash. + +But the passion of imprecation cooled and satisfied his anger in this +its first impetuous outbreak, and he sat down, clasped the arms of his +chair, and gave himself a peremptory order of control. In a short time +he rose, bathed his head and face in cold water, and began to dress for +dinner. And as he stood before the glass he smiled at the restored color +and calm of his countenance. + +"You are a prudent lawyer," he said sarcastically. "How many actionable +words have you just uttered! If the devil and Fred Mostyn have been +listening, they can, as mother says, 'get the law on you'; but I think +Ethel and I and the law will be a match even for the devil and Fred +Mostyn." Then, as he slowly went downstairs, he repeated to himself, +"Mostyn seems to be the natural owner of Rawdon. No, sir, neither +natural nor legal owner. Rawdon Court lies at Mostyn gate. Not yet. +Mostyn lies at Rawdon gate. Natural that the Mostyns should succeed the +Rawdons. Power of God! Neither in this generation nor the next." + +And at the same moment Mostyn, having thought over his interview with +Judge Rawdon, walked thoughtfully to a window and muttered to himself: +"Whatever was the matter with the old man? Polite as a courtier, but +something was wrong. The room felt as if there was an iceberg in it, and +he kept his right hand in his pocket. I be-lieve he was afraid I +would shake hands with him--it is Ethel, I suppose. Naturally he is +disappointed. Wanted her at Rawdon. Well, it is a pity, but I really +cannot! Oh, Dora! Dora! My heart, my hungry and thirsty heart calls you! +Burning with love, dying with longing, I am waiting for you!" + +The dinner passed pleasantly enough, but both Ethel and Ruth noticed the +Judge was under strong but well-controlled feeling. While servants were +present it passed for high spirits, but as soon as the three were alone +in the library, the excitement took at once a serious aspect. + +"My dears," he said, standing up and facing them, "I have had a very +painful interview with Fred Mostyn. He holds a mortgage over Rawdon +Court, and is going to press it in September--that is, he proposes to +sell the place in order to obtain his money--and the poor Squire!" He +ceased speaking, walked across the room and back again, and appeared +greatly disturbed. + +"What of the Squire?" asked Ruth. + +"God knows, Ruth. He has no other home." + +"Why is this thing to be done? Is there no way to prevent it?" + +"Mostyn wants the money, he says, to invest in American securities. He +does not. He wants to force a sale, so that he may buy the place for the +mortgage, and then either keep it for his pride, or more likely resell +it to the Tyrrel-Rawdons for double the money." Then with gradually +increasing passion he repeated in a low, intense voice the remarks which +Mostyn had made, and which had so infuriated the Judge. Before he +had finished speaking the two women had caught his temper and spirit. +Ethel's face was white with anger, her eyes flashing, her whole attitude +full of fight. Ruth was troubled and sorrowful, and she looked anxiously +at the Judge for some solution of the condition. It was Ethel who voiced +the anxiety. "Father," she asked, "what is to be done? What can you do?" + +"Nothing, I am sorry to say, Ethel. My money is absolutely tied up--for +this year, at any rate. I cannot touch it without wronging others as +well as myself, nor yet without the most ruinous sacrifice." + +"If I could do anything, I would not care at what sacrifice." + +"You can do all that is necessary, Ethel, and you are the only person +who can. You have at least eight hundred thousand dollars in cash and +negotiable securities. Your mother's fortune is all yours, with its +legitimate accruements, and it was left at your own disposal after your +twenty-first birthday. It has been at your own disposal WITH MY CONSENT +since your nineteenth birthday." + +"Then, father, we need not trouble about the Squire. I wish with all +my heart to make his home sure to him as long as he lives. You are a +lawyer, you know what ought to be done." + +"Good girl! I knew what you would say and do, or I should not have told +you the trouble there was at Rawdon. Now, I propose we all make a +visit to Rawdon Court, see the Squire and the property, and while there +perfect such arrangements as seem kindest and wisest. Ruth, how soon can +we be ready to sail?" + +"Father, do you really mean that we are to go to England?" + +"It is the only thing to do. I must see that all is as Mostyn says. I +must not let you throw your money away." + +"That is only prudent," said Ruth, "and we can be ready for the first +steamer if you wish it." + +"I am delighted, father. I long to see England; more than all, I long to +see Rawdon. I did not know until this moment how much I loved it." + +"Well, then, I will have all ready for us to sail next Saturday. Say +nothing about it to Mostyn. He will call to-morrow morning to bid you +good-by before leaving for Newport with McLean. Try and be out." + +"I shall certainly be out," said Ethel. "I do not wish ever to see his +face again, and I must see grandmother and tell her what we are going to +do." + +"I dare say she guesses already. She advised me to ask you about the +mortgage. She knew what you would say." + +"Father, who are the Tyrrel-Rawdons?" + +Then the Judge told the story of the young Tyrrel-Rawdon, who a century +ago had lost his world for Love, and Ethel said "she liked him better +than any Rawdon she had ever heard of." + +"Except your father, Ethel." + +"Except my father; my dear, good father. And I am glad that Love did not +always make them poor. They must now be rich, if they want to buy the +Court." + +"They are rich manufacturers. Mostyn is much annoyed that the Squire +has begun to notice them. He says one of the grandsons of the +Tyrrel-Rawdons, disinherited for love's sake, came to America some time +in the forties. I asked your grandmother if this story was true. She +said it is quite true; that my father was his friend in the matter, +and that it was his reports about America which made them decide to try +their fortune in New York." + +"Does she know what became of him?" + +"No. In his last letter to them he said he had just joined a party +going to the gold fields of California. That was in 1850. He never +wrote again. It is likely he perished on the terrible journey across the +plains. Many thousands did." + +"When I am in England I intend to call upon these Tyrrel-Rawdons. I +think I shall like them. My heart goes out to them. I am proud of this +bit of romance in the family." + +"Oh, there is plenty of romance behind you, Ethel. When you see the old +Squire standing at the entrance to the Manor House, you may see the hags +of Cressy and Agincourt, of Marston and Worcester behind him. And the +Rawdon women have frequently been daughters of Destiny. Many of them +have lived romances that would be incredible if written down. Oh, Ethel, +dear, we cannot, we cannot for our lives, let the old home fall into the +hands of strangers. At any rate, if on inspection we think it wrong to +interfere, I can at least try and get the children of the disinherited +Tyrrel back to their home. Shall we leave it at this point for the +present?" + +This decision was agreeable to all, and then the few preparations +necessary for the journey were talked over, and in this happy discussion +the evening passed rapidly. The dream of Ethel's life had been +this visit to the home of her family, and to go as its savior was a +consummation of the pleasure that filled her with loving pride. She +could not sleep for her waking dreams. She made all sorts of resolutions +about the despised Tyrrel-Rawdons. She intended to show the proud, +indolent world of the English land-aristocracy that Americans, just as +well born as themselves, respected business energy and enterprise; and +she had other plans and propositions just as interesting and as full of +youth's impossible enthusiasm. + +In the morning she went to talk the subject over with her grandmother. +The old lady received the news with affected indifference. She said, +"It mattered nothing to her who sat in Rawdon's seat; but she would not +hear Mostyn blamed for seeking his right. Money and sentiment are no +kin," she added, "and Fred has no sentiment about Rawdon. Why should he? +Only last summer Rawdon kept him out of Parliament, and made him spend a +lot of money beside. He's right to get even with the family if he can." + +"But the old Squire! He is now----" + +"I know; he's older than I am. But Squire Percival has had his day, +and Fred would not do anything out of the way to him--he could not; the +county would make both Mostyn and Rawdon very uncomfortable places to +live in, if he did." + +"If you turn a man out of his home when he is eighty years old, I +think that is 'out of the way.' And Mr. Mostyn is not to be trusted. I +wouldn't trust him as far as I could see him." + +"Highty-tighty! He has not asked you to trust him. You lost your chance +there, miss." + +"Grandmother, I am astonished at you!" + +"Well, it was a mean thing to say, Ethel; but I like Fred, and I see the +rest of my family are against him. It's natural for Yorkshire to help +the weakest side. But there, Fred can do his own fighting, I'll warrant. +He's not an ordinary man." + +"I'm sorry to say he isn't, grandmother. If he were he would speak +without a drawl, and get rid of his monocle, and not pay such minute +attention to his coats and vests and walking sticks." + +Then Ethel proceeded to explain her resolves with regard to the +Tyrrel-Rawdons. "I shall pay them the greatest attention," she said. +"It was a noble thing in young Tyrrel-Rawdon to give up everything for +honorable love, and I think everyone ought to have stood by him." + +"That wouldn't have done at all. If Tyrrel had been petted as you think +he ought to have been, every respectable young man and woman in the +county would have married where their fancy led them; and the fancies of +young people mostly lead them to the road it is ruin to take." + +"From what Fred Mostyn says, Tyrrel's descendants seem to have taken a +very respectable road." + +"I've nothing to say for or against them. It's years and years since I +laid eyes on any of the family. Your grandfather helped one of the young +men to come to America, and I remember his mother getting into a passion +about it. She was a fat woman in a Paisley shawl and a love-bird on her +bonnet. I saw his sister often. She weighed about twelve stone, and had +red hair and red cheeks and bare red elbows. She was called a 'strapping +lass.' That is quite a complimentary term in the West Riding." + +"Please, grandmother, I don't want to hear any more. In two weeks +I shall be able to judge for myself. Since then there have been +two generations, and if a member of the present one is fit for +Parliament----" + +"That's nothing. We needn't look for anything specially refined in +Parliament in these days. There's another thing. These Tyrrel-Rawdons +are chapel people. The rector of Rawdon church would not marry Tyrrel to +his low-born love, and so they went to the Methodist preacher, and after +that to the Methodist chapel. That put them down, more than you can +imagine here in America." + +"It was a shame! Methodists are most respectable people." + +"I'm saying nothing contrary." + +"The President is a Methodist." + +"I never asked what he was. I am a Church of England woman, you know +that. Born and bred in the Church, baptized, confirmed, and married in +the Church, and I was always taught it was the only proper Church for +gentlemen and gentlewomen to be saved in. However, English Methodists +often go back to the Church when they get rich." + +"Church or chapel makes no difference to me, grandmother. If people are +only good." + +"To be sure; but you won't be long in England until you'll find out that +some things make a great deal of difference. Do you know your father was +here this morning? He wanted me to go with you--a likely, thing." + +"But, grandmother, do come. We will take such good care of you, and----" + +"I know, but I'd rather keep my old memories of Yorkshire than get +new-fashioned ones. All is changed. I can tell that by what Fred +says. My three great friends are dead. They have left children and +grandchildren, of course, but I don't want to make new acquaintances at +my age, unless I have the picking of them. No, I shall get Miss Hillis +to go with me to my little cabin on the Jersey coast. We'll take our +knitting and the fresh novels, and I'll warrant we'll see as much of +the new men and women in them as will more than satisfy us. But you must +write me long letters, and tell me everything about the Squire and the +way he keeps house, and I don't care if you fill up the paper with the +Tyrrel-Rawdons." + +"I will write you often, Granny, and tell you everything." + +"I shouldn't wonder if you come across Dora Stanhope, but I wouldn't ask +her to Rawdon. She'll mix some cup of bother if you do." + +"I know." + +In such loving and intimate conversation the hours sped quickly, and +Ethel could not bear to cut short her visit. It was nearly five when +she left Gramercy Park, but the day being lovely, and the avenue full of +carriages and pedestrians, she took the drive at its enforced tardiness +without disapproval. Almost on entering the avenue from Madison Square +there was a crush, and her carriage came to a standstill. She was then +opposite the store of a famous English saddler, and near her was an open +carriage occupied by a middle-aged gentleman in military uniform. He +appeared to be waiting for someone, and in a moment or two a young man +came out of the saddlery store, and with a pleasant laugh entered the +carriage. It was the Apollo of her dreams, the singer of the Holland +House pavement. She could not doubt it. His face, his figure, his walk, +and the pleasant smile with which he spoke to his companion were all +positive characteristics. She had forgotten none of them. His dress was +altered to suit the season, but that was an improvement; for divested of +his heavy coat, and clothed only in a stylish afternoon suit, his tall, +fine figure showed to great advantage; and Ethel told herself that he +was even handsomer than she had supposed him to be. + +Almost as soon as he entered his carriage there was a movement, and +she hoped her driver might advance sufficiently to make recognition +possible, but some feeling, she knew not what, prevented her giving +any order leading to this result. Perhaps she had an instinctive +presentiment that it was best to leave all to Destiny. Toward the upper +part of the avenue the carriage of her eager observation came to a stand +before a warehouse of antique furniture and bric-a-brac, and, as it did +so, a beautiful woman ran down the steps, and Apollo, for so Ethel had +men-tally called him, went hurriedly to meet her. Finally her coachman +passed the party, and there was a momentary recognition. He was bending +forward, listening to something the lady was saying, when the vehicles +almost touched each other. He flashed a glance at them, and met the +flash of Ethel's eyes full of interest and curiosity. + +It was over in a moment, but in that moment Ethel saw his astonishment +and delight, and felt her own eager questioning answered. Then she was +joyous and full of hope, for "these two silent meetings are promises," +she said to Ruth. "I feel sure I shall see him again, and then we shall +speak to each other." + +"I hope you are not allowing yourself to feel too much interest in this +man, Ethel; he is very likely married." + +"Oh, no! I am sure he is not, Ruth." + +"How can you be sure? You know nothing about him." + +"I cannot tell HOW I know, nor WHY I know, but I believe what I feel; +and he is as much interested in me as I am in him. I confess that is a +great deal." + +"You may never see him again." + +"I shall expect to see him next winter, he evidently lives in New York." + +"The lady you saw may be his wife. Don't be interested in any man on +unknown ground, Ethel. It is not prudent--it is not right." + +"Time will show. He will very likely be looking for me this summer at +Newport and elsewhere. He will be glad to see me when I come home. Don't +worry, Ruth. It is all right." + +"Fred called soon after you went out this morning. He left for Newport +this afternoon. He will be at sea now." + +"And we shall be there in a few days. When I am at the seaside I always +feel a delicious torpor; yet Nelly Baldwin told me she loved an Atlantic +passage because she had such fun on board. You have crossed several +times, Ruth; is it fun or torpor?" + +"All mirth at sea soon fades away, Ethel. Passengers are a very dull +class of people, and they know it; they rebel against it, but every hour +it becomes more natural to be dull. Very soon all mentally accommodate +themselves to being bored, dreamy and dreary. Then, as soon as it is +dark, comes that old mysterious, hungering sound of the sea; and I for +one listen till I can bear it no longer, and so steal away to bed with a +pain in my heart." + +"I think I shall like the ocean. There are games, and books, and +company, and dinners, and other things." + +"Certainly, and you can think yourself happy, until gradually a +contented cretinism steals over you, body and mind." + +"No, no!" said Ethel enthusiastically. "I shall do according to +Swinburne-- + + "'Have therefore in my heart, and in my mouth, + The sound of song that mingles North and South; + And in my Soul the sense of all the Sea!'" + + +And Ruth laughed at her dramatic attitude, and answered: "The soul of +all the sea is a contented cretinism, Ethel. But in ten days we may be +in Yorkshire. And then, my dear, you may meet your Prince--some fine +Yorkshire gentleman." + +"I have strictly and positively promised myself that my Prince shall be +a fine American gentleman." + +"My dear Ethel, it is very seldom + + "'the time, and the place, + And the Loved One, come together.'" + + +"I live in the land of good hope, Ruth, and my hopes will be realized." + +"We shall see." + + + + +PART THIRD -- "I WENT DOWN INTO THE GARDEN TO SEE IF THE POMEGRANATES +BUDDED." + + --Song of Solomon, VI. 11. + + + +CHAPTER VII + +IT was a lovely afternoon on the last day of May. The sea and all the +toil and travail belonging to it was overpass, and Judge Rawdon, Ruth +and Ethel were driving in lazy, blissful contentment through one of +the lovely roads of the West Riding. On either hand the beautifully +cut hedges were white and sweet, and a caress of scent--the soul of +the hawthorne flower enfolded them. Robins were singing on the topmost +sprays, and the linnet's sweet babbling was heard from the happy nests +in its secret places; while from some unseen steeple the joyful sound +of chiming bells made music between heaven and earth fit for bands of +traveling angels. + +They had dined at a wayside inn on jugged hare, roast beef, and +Yorkshire pudding, clotted cream and haver (oaten) bread, and the +careless stillness of physical well-being and of minds at ease needed no +speech, but the mutual smiling nod of intimate sympathy. For the sense +of joy and beauty which makes us eloquent is far inferior to that sense +which makes us silent. + +This exquisite pause in life was suddenly ended by an exclamation from +the Judge. They were at the great iron gates of Rawdon Park, and +soon were slowly traversing its woody solitudes. The soft light, the +unspeakable green of the turf, the voice of ancient days murmuring in +the great oak trees, the deer asleep among the ferns, the stillness +of the summer afternoon filling the air with drowsy peace this was the +atmosphere into which they entered. Their road through this grand park +of three hundred acres was a wide, straight avenue shaded with beech +trees. The green turf on either hand was starred with primroses. In the +deep undergrowth, ferns waved and fanned each other, and the scent of +hidden violets saluted as they passed. Drowsily, as if half asleep, +the blackbirds whistled their couplets, and in the thickest hedges the +little brown thrushes sang softly to their brooding mates. For half an +hour they kept this heavenly path, and then a sudden turn brought them +their first sight of the old home. + +It was a stately, irregular building of red brick, sandaled and veiled +in ivy. The numerous windows were all latticed, the chimneys in +picturesque stacks, the sloping roof made of flags of sandstone. It +stood in the center of a large garden, at the bottom of which ran a +babbling little river--a cheerful tongue of life in the sweet, silent +place. They crossed it by a pretty bridge, and in a few minutes stood +at the great door of the mansion. It was wide open, and the Squire, with +outstretched hands, rose to meet them. While yet upon the threshold he +kissed both Ethel and Ruth, and, clasping the Judge's hand, gazed at him +with such a piercing, kindly look that the eyes of both men filled with +tears. + +He led them into the hall, and standing there he seemed almost a part of +it. In his youth he had been a son of Anak, and his great size had been +matched by his great strength. His stature was still large, his face +broad and massive, and an abundance of snow-white hair emphasized the +dignity of a countenance which age had made nobler. The generations of +eight hundred years were crystallized in this benignant old man, looking +with such eager interest into the faces of his strange kindred from a +far-off land. + +In the evening they sat together in the old hall talking of the Rawdons. +"There is great family of us, living and dead," said the Squire, "and I +count them all my friends. Bare is the back that has no kin behind it. +That is not our case. Eight hundred years ago there was a Rawdon in +Rawdon, and one has never been wanting since. Saxon, Danish, Norman, and +Stuart kings have been and gone their way, and we remain; and I can tell +you every Rawdon born since the House of Hanover came to England. We +have had our share in all England's strife and glory, for if there was +ever a fight going on anywhere Rawdon was never far off. Yes, we can +string the centuries together in the battle flags we have won. See +there!" he cried, pointing to two standards interwoven above the central +chimney-piece; "one was taken from the Paynim in the first Crusade, and +the other my grandson took in Africa. It seems but yesterday, and Queen +Victoria gave him the Cross for it. Poor lad, he had it on when he died. +It went to the grave with him. I wouldn't have it touched. I fancy the +Rawdons would know it. No one dare say they don't. I think they meddle a +good deal more with this life than we count on." + +The days that followed were days in The House Wonderful. It held the +treasure-trove of centuries; all its rooms were full of secrets. +Even the common sitting-room had an antique homeliness that provoked +questions as to the dates of its furniture and the whereabouts of its +wall cupboards and hidden recesses. Its china had the marks of forgotten +makers, its silver was puzzling with half-obliterated names and dates, +its sideboard of oak was black with age and full of table accessories, +the very names of which were forgotten. For this house had not been +built in the ordinary sense, it had grown through centuries; grown out +of desire and necessity, just as a tree grows, and was therefore fit +and beautiful. And it was no wonder that about every room floated +the perfume of ancient things and the peculiar family aura that had +saturated all the inanimate objects around them. + +In a few days, life settled itself to orderly occupations. The Squire +was a late riser; the Judge and his family breakfasted very early. Then +the two women had a ride in the park, or wandered in the garden, or sat +reading, or sewing, or writing in some of the sweet, fair rooms. Many +visitors soon appeared, and there were calls to return and courtesies to +accept. Among these visitors the Tyrrel-Rawdons were the earliest. The +representatives of that family were Nicholas Rawdon and his wife Lydia. +Nicholas Rawdon was a large, stout man, very arrogant, very complete, +very alert for this world, and not caring much about the other. He was +not pleased at Judge Rawdon's visit, but thought it best to be +cousinly until his cousin interfered with his plans--"rights" he called +them--"and then!" and his "THEN" implied a great deal, for Nicholas +Rawdon was a man incapable of conceiving the idea of loving an enemy. + +His wife was a pleasant, garrulous woman, who interested Ethel very +much. Her family was her chief topic of conversation. She had two +daughters, one of whom had married a baronet, "a man with money and easy +to manage"; and the other, "a rich cotton lord in Manchester." + +"They haven't done badly," she said confidentially, "and it's a great +thing to get girls off your hands early. Adelaide and Martha were well +educated and suitable, but," she added with a glow of pride, "you should +see my John Thomas. He's manager of the mill, and he loves the mill, and +he knows every pound of warp or weft that comes in or goes out of the +mill; and what his father would do without him, I'm sure I don't know. +And he is a member of Parliament, too--Radical ticket. Won over Mostyn. +Wiped Mostyn out pretty well. That was a thing to do, wasn't it?" + +"I suppose Mr. Mostyn was the Conservative candidate?" + +"You may be sure of that. But my John Thomas doesn't blame him for +it--the gentry have to be Conservatives. John Thomas said little against +his politics; he just set the crowd laughing at his ways--his dandified +ways. And he tried to wear one eyeglass, and let it fall, and fall, and +then told the men 'he couldn't manage half a pair of spectacles; but he +could manage their interests and fight for their rights,' and such like +talk. And he walked like Mostyn, and he talked like Mostyn, and spread +out his legs, and twirled his walking stick like Mostyn, and asked them +'if they would wish him to go to Parliament in that kind of a shape, as +he'd try and do it if they wanted a tailor-made man'; and they laughed +him down, and then he spoke reasonable to them. John Thomas knows what +Yorkshire weavers want, and he just prom-ised them everything they had +set their hearts on; and so they sent him to Parliament, and Mostyn went +to America, where, perhaps, they'll teach him that a man's life is worth +a bit more than a bird or a rabbit. Mostyn is all for preserving game, +and his father was a mean creature. When one thinks of his father, one +has to excuse the young man a little bit." + +"I saw a good deal of Mr. Mostyn in New York," said Ethel. "He used to +speak highly of his father." + +"I'll warrant he did; and he ought to keep at it, for he's the only one +in this world that will use his tongue for that end. Old Samuel Mostyn +never learned to live godly or even manly, but after his death he ceased +to do evil, and that, I've no doubt, often feels like a blessing to them +that had to live anyway near to him. But my John Thomas!" + +"Oh," cried Ethel, laughing, "you must not tell me so much about John +Thomas; he might not like it." + +"John Thomas can look all he does and all he says straight in the face. +You may talk of him all day, and find nothing to say that a good girl +like you might not listen to. I should have brought him with us, but +he's away now taking a bit of a holiday. I'm sure he needs it." + +"Where is he taking his holiday?" + +"Why, he went with a cousin to show him the sights of London; but +somehow they got through London sights very quick, and thought they +might as well put Paris in. I wish they hadn't. I don't trust foreigners +and foreign ways, and they don't have the same kind of money as ours; +but Nicholas says I needn't worry; he is sure that our John Thomas, if +change is to make, will make it to suit himself." + +"How soon will he be home?" + +"I might say to-day or any other early day. He's been idling for a month +now, and his father says 'the very looms are calling out for him.' I'll +bring him to see you just as soon as he comes home, looms or no looms, +and he'll be fain to come. No one appreciates a pretty girl more than +John Thomas does." + +So the days passed sweetly and swiftly onward, and there was no trouble +in them. Such business as was to be done went on behind the closed +doors of the Squire's office, and with no one present but himself, Judge +Rawdon, and the attorneys attached to the Rawdon and Mostyn estates. And +as there were no entanglements and no possible reason for disputing, +a settlement was quickly arrived at. Then, as Mostyn's return was +uncertain, an attorney's messenger, properly accredited, was sent to +America to procure his signatures. Allowing for unforeseen delays, the +perfected papers of release might certainly be on hand by the fifteenth +of July, and it was proposed on the first of August to give a dinner +and dance in return for the numerous courtesies the American Rawdons had +received. + +As this date approached Ruth and Ethel began to think of a visit to +London. They wanted new gowns and many other pretty things, and why not +go to London for them? The journey was but a few hours, and two or three +days' shopping in Regent Street and Piccadilly would be delightful. "We +will make out a list of all we need this afternoon," said Ruth, "and +we might as well go to-morrow morning as later," and at this moment +a servant entered with the mail. Ethel lifted her letter with an +exclamation. "It is from Dora," she said, and her voice had a tone of +annoyance in it. "Dora is in London, at the Savoy. She wants to see me +very much." + +"I am so sorry. We have been so happy." + +"I don't think she will interfere much, Ruth." + +"My dears," said Judge Rawdon, "I have a letter from Fred Mostyn. He is +coming home. He will be in London in a day or two." + +"Why is he coming, father?" + +"He says he has a proposal to make about the Manor. I wish he were not +coming. No one wants his proposal." Then the breakfast-table, which had +been so gay, became silent and depressed, and presently the Judge went +away without exhibiting further interest in the London journey. + +"I do wish Dora would let us alone," said Ruth. "She always brings +disappointment or worry of some kind. And I wonder what is the meaning +of this unexpected London visit. I thought she was in Holland." + +"She said in her last letter that London would be impossible before +August." + +"Is it an appointment--or a coincidence?" + +And Ethel, lifting her shoulders sarcastically, as if in hostile +surrender to the inevitable, answered: + +"It is a fatality!" + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THREE days afterward Ethel called on Dora Stanhope at the Savoy. She +found her alone, and she had evidently been crying. Indeed, she +frankly admitted the fact, declaring that she had been "so bored and so +homesick, that she relieved she had cried her beauty away." She glanced +at Ethel's radiant face and neat fresh toilet with envy, and added, "I +am so glad to see you, Ethel. But I was sure that you would come as soon +as you knew I wanted you." + +"Oh, indeed, Dora, you must not make yourself too sure of such a thing +as that! I really came to London to get some new gowns. I have been +shopping all morning." + +"I thought you had come in answer to my letter. I was expecting you. +That is the reason I did not go out with Basil." + +"Don't you expect a little too much, Dora? I have a great many interests +and duties----" + +"I used to be first." + +"When a girl marries she is supposed to----" + +"Please don't talk nonsense. Basil does not take the place of everyone +and everything else. I think we are often very tired of each other. This +morning, when I was telling him what trouble I had with my maid, Julia, +he actually yawned. He tried to smother the yawn, but he could not, and +of course the honeymoon is over when your bridegroom yawns in your face +while you are telling him your troubles." + +"I should think you would be glad it was over. Of all the words in the +English language 'honeymoon' is the most ridiculous and imbecile." + +"I suppose when you get married you will take a honeymoon." + +"I shall have more sense and more selfishness. A girl could hardly +enter a new life through a medium more trying. I am sure it would +need long-tested affections and the sweetest of tempers to make it +endurable." + +"I cannot imagine what you mean." + +"I mean that all traveling just after marriage is a great blunder. +Traveling makes the sunniest disposition hasty and peevish, for women +don't love changes as men do. Not one in a thousand is seen at her best +while traveling, and the majority are seen at their very worst. Then +there is the discomfort and desolation of European hotels--their +mysterious methods and hours, and the ways of foreigners, which are not +as our ways." + +"Don't talk of them, Ethel. They are dreadful places, and such queer +people." + +"Add to these troubles ignorance of language and coinage, the utter +weariness of railway travel, the plague of customs, the trunk that +won't pack, the trains that won't wait, the tiresome sight-seeing, +the climatic irritability, broiling suns, headache, loneliness, +fretfulness--consequently the pitiful boredom of the new husband." + +"Ethel, what you say is certainly too true. I am weary to death of it +all. I want to be at Newport with mother, who is having a lovely time +there. Of course Basil is very nice to me, and yet there have been +little tiffs and struggles--very gentle ones--for the mastery, which +he is not going to get. To-day he wanted me to go with him and Canon +Shackleton to see something or other about the poor of London. I would +not do it. I am so lonely, Ethel, I want to see some one. I feel fit to +cry all the time. I like Basil best of anyone in the world, but----" + +"But in the solitude of a honeymoon among strangers you find out that +the person you like best in the world can bore you as badly as the +person you don't like at all. Is that so?" + +"Exactly. Just fancy if we were among our friends in Newport. I should +have some pleasure in dressing and looking lovely. Why should I dress +here? There is no one to see me." + +"Basil." + +"Of course, but Basil spends all the time in visiting cathedrals and +clergymen. If we go out, it is to see something about the poor, or about +schools and such like. We were not in London two hours until he was off +to Westminster Abbey, and I didn't care a cent about the old place. He +says I must not ask him to go to theaters, but historical old houses +don't interest me at all. What does it matter if Cromwell slept in a +certain ancient shabby room? And as for all the palaces I have seen, my +father's house is a great deal handsomer, and more convenient, and more +comfortable, and I wish I were there. I hate Europe, and England I hate +worst of all." + +"You have not seen England. We are all enraptured with its beauty and +its old houses and pleasant life." + +"You are among friends--at home, as it were. I have heard all about +Rawdon Court. Fred Mostyn told me. He is going to buy it." + +"When?" + +"Some time this fall. Then next year he will entertain us, and that will +be a little different to this desolate hotel, I think." + +"How long will you be in London?" + +"I cannot say. We are invited to Stanhope Castle, but I don't want to go +there. We stayed with the Stanhopes a week when we first came over. They +were then in their London house, and I got enough of them." + +"Did you dislike the family?" + +"No, I cared nothing about them. They just bored me. They are extremely +religious. We had prayers night and morning, and a prayer before and +after every meal. They read only very good books, and the Honorable +Misses Stanhope sew for the poor old women and teach the poor young +ones. They work harder than anyone I ever knew, and they call it +'improving the time.' They thought me a very silly, reckless young +woman, and I think they all prayed for me. One night after they had sung +some very nice songs they asked me to play, and I began with 'My Little +Brown Rose'--you know they all adore the negro--and little by little I +dropped into the funniest coon songs I knew, and oh how they laughed! +Even the old lord stroked his knees and laughed out loud, while the +young ladies laughed into their handkerchiefs. Lady Stanhope was the +only one who comprehended I was guying them; and she looked at me with +half-shut eyes in a way that would have spoiled some girls' fun. It only +made me the merrier. So I tried to show them a cake walk, but the old +lord rose then and said 'I must be tired, and they would excuse me.' +Somehow I could not manage him. Basil was at a workman's concert, and +when he came home I think there were some advices and remonstrances, but +Basil never told me. I felt as if they were all glad when I went away, +and I don't wish to go to the Castle--and I won't go either." + +"But if Basil wishes to go----" + +"He can go alone. I rather think Fred Mostyn will be here in a few +days, and he will take me to places that Basil will not--innocent places +enough, Ethel, so you need not look so shocked. Why do you not ask me to +Rawdon Court?" + +"Because I am only a guest there. I have no right to ask you." + +"I am sure if you told Squire Rawdon how fond you are of me, and how +lonely I am, he would tell you to send for me." + +"I do not believe he would. He has old-fashioned ideas about newly +married people. He would hardly think it possible that you would be +willing to go anywhere without Basil--yet." + +"He could ask Basil too." + +"If Mr. Mostyn is coming home, he can ask you to Mostyn Hall. It is very +near Rawdon Court." + +"Yes. Fred said as soon as he had possession of the Court he could put +both places into a ring fence. Then he would live at the Court. If he +asks us there next summer I shall be sure to beg an invitation for you +also; so I think you might deserve it by getting me one now. I don't +want to go to Mostyn yet. Fred says it needs entire refurnishing, and if +we come to the Court next summer, I have promised to give him my advice +and help in making the place pretty and up to date. Have you seen Mostyn +Hall?" + +"I have passed it several times. It is a large, gloomy-looking place I +was going to say haunted-looking. It stands in a grove of yew trees." + +"So you are not going to ask me to Rawdon Court?" + +"I really cannot, Dora. It is not my house. I am only a guest there." + +"Never mind. Make no more excuses. I see how it is. You always were +jealous of Fred's liking for me. And of course when he goes down to +Mostyn you would prefer me to be absent." + +"Good-by, Dora! I have a deal of shopping to do, and there is not much +time before the ball, for many things will be to make." + +"The ball! What ball?" + +"Only one at Rawdon Court. The neighbors have been exceedingly kind to +us, and the Squire is going to give a dinner and ball on the first of +August." + +"Sit down and tell me about the neighbors--and the ball." + +"I cannot. I promised Ruth to be back at five. Our modiste is to see us +at that hour." + +"So Ruth is with you! Why did she not call on me?" + +"Did you think I should come to London alone? And Ruth did not call +because she was too busy." + +"Everyone and everything comes before me now. I used to be first of +all. I wish I were in Newport with dad and mamma; even Bryce would be a +comfort." + +"As I said before, you have Mr. Stanhope." + +"Are you going to send for me to the ball?" + +"I cannot promise that, Dora. Good-by." + +Dora did not answer. She buried her face in the soft pillow, and Ethel +closed the door to the sound of her sobs. But they did not cause her to +return or to make any foolish promises. She divined their insincerity +and their motive, and had no mind to take any part in forwarding the +latter. + +And Ruth assured her she had acted wisely. "If trouble should ever come +of this friendship," she said, "Dora would very likely complain that +you had always thrown Mostyn in her way, brought him to her house in New +York, and brought her to him at Rawdon, in England. Marriage is such a +risk, Ethel, but to marry without the courage to adapt oneself. AH!" + +"You think that condition unspeakably hard?" + +"There are no words for it." + +"Dora was not reticent, I assure you." + +"I am sorry. A wife's complaints are self-inflicted wounds; scattered +seeds, from which only misery can spring. I hope you will not see her +again at this time." + +"I made no promise to do so." + +"And where all is so uncertain, we had better suppose all is right than +that all is wrong. Even if there was the beginning of wrong, it needs +but an accident to prevent it, and there are so many." + +"Accidents!" + +"Yes, for accident is God's part in affairs. We call it accident; it +would be better to say an interposition." + +"Dora told me Mostyn intended to buy Rawdon Court in September, and he +has even invited the Stanhopes to stay there next summer." + +"What did you say?" + +"Nothing against it." + +"Very good. Do you think Mostyn is in London now?" + +"I should not wonder. I am sure Dora is expecting him." + +In fact, the next morning they met Dora and Basil Stanhope, driving in +Hyde Park with Mostyn, but the smiling greeting which passed between the +parties did not, except in the case of Basil Stanhope, fairly represent +the dominant feeling of anyone. As for Stanhope, his nature was so clear +and truthful that he would hardly have comprehended a smile which was +intended to veil feelings not to be called either quite friendly or +quite pleasant. After this meeting all the joy went out of Ruth and +Ethel's shopping. They wanted to get back to the Court, and they +attended strictly to business in order to do so. + +Mostyn followed them very quickly. He was exceedingly anxious to see +and hear for himself how his affairs regarding Rawdon stood. They were +easily made plain to him, and he saw with a pang of disappointment that +all his hopes of being Squire of Rawdon Manor were over. Every penny he +could righteously claim was paid to him, and on the title deeds of the +ancient place he had no longer the shadow of a claim. The Squire looked +ten years younger as he affectionately laid both hands on the redeemed +parchments, and Mostyn with enforced politeness congratulated him on +their integrity and then made a hurried retreat. Of its own kind this +disappointment was as great as the loss of Dora. He could think of +neither without a sense of immeasurable and disastrous failure. One +petty satisfaction regarding the payment of the mortgage was his only +com-fort. He might now show McLean that it was not want of money that +had made him hitherto shy of "the good investments" offered him. He +had been sure McLean in their last interview had thought so, and had, +indeed, felt the half-veiled contempt with which the rich young man had +expressed his pity for Mostyn's inability to take advantage at the +right moment of an exceptional chance to play the game of beggaring his +neighbor. Now, he told himself, he would show McLean and his braggart +set that good birth and old family was for once allied with plenty +of money, and he also promised his wounded sensibilities some very +desirable reprisals, every one of which he felt fully competent to take. + +It was, after all, a poor compensation, but there was also the gold. He +thanked his father that day for the great thoughtfulness and care with +which he had amassed this sum for him, and he tried to console himself +with the belief that gold answered all purposes, and that the yellow +metal was a better possession than the house and lands which he had +longed for with an inherited and insensate craving. + +Two days after this event Ethel, at her father's direction, signed a +number of papers, and when that duty was completed, the Squire rose +from his chair, kissed her hands and her cheeks, and in a voice full +of tenderness and pride said, "I pay my respects to the future lady of +Rawdon Manor, and I thank God for permitting me to see this hour. Most +welcome, Lady Ethel, to the rights you inherit, and the rights you have +bought." It was a moment hardly likely to be duplicated in any life, and +Ethel escaped from its tense emotions as soon as possible. She could not +speak, her heart was too full of joy and wonder. There are souls that +say little and love much. How blessed are they! + +On the following morning the invitations were sent for the dinner +and dance, but the time was put forward to the eighth of August. In +everyone's heart there was a hope that before that day Mostyn would have +left Rawdon, but the hope was barely mentioned. In the meantime he came +and went between Mostyn and Rawdon as he desired, and was received with +that modern politeness which considers it best to ignore offenses that +our grandfathers and grandmothers would have held for strict account and +punishment. + +It was evident that he had frequent letters from Dora. He knew all her +movements, and spoke several times of opening Mostyn Hall and inviting +the Stanhopes to stay with him until their return to America. But as +this suggestion did not bring from any member of the Rawdon family the +invitation hoped for, it was not acted upon. He told himself the +expense would be great, and the Hall, in spite of all he could do in the +interim, would look poor and shabby compared with Rawdon Court; so he +put aside the proposal on the ground that he could not persuade his +aunt to do the entertaining necessary. And for all the irritation and +humiliations centering round his loss of Rawdon and his inabilities with +regard to Dora he blamed Ethel. He was sure if he had been more lovable +and encouraging he could have married her, and thus finally reached +Rawdon Court; and then, with all the unreason imaginable, nursed a +hearty dislike to her because she would not understand his desires, and +provide means for their satisfaction. The bright, joyous girl with her +loving heart, her abounding vitality, and constant cheerfulness, made +him angry. In none of her excellencies he had any share, consequently he +hated her. + +He would have quickly returned to London, but Dora and her husband were +staying with the Stanhopes, and her letters from Stanhope Castle were +lachrymose complaints of the utter weariness and dreariness of +life there the preaching and reading aloud, the regular walking and +driving--all the innocent method of lives which recognized they were +here for some higher purpose than mere physical enjoyment. And it +angered Mostyn that neither Ruth nor Ethel felt any sympathy for Dora's +ennui, and proposed no means of releasing her from it. He considered +them both disgustingly selfish and ill-natured, and was certain that +all their reluctance at Dora's presence arose from their jealousy of her +beauty and her enchanting grace. + +On the afternoon of the day preceding the intended entertainment Ruth, +Ethel, and the Squire were in the great dining-room superintending its +decoration. They were merrily laughing and chatting, and were not +aware of the arrival of any visitors until Mrs. Nicholas Rawdon's rosy, +good-natured face appeared at the open door. Everyone welcomed her +gladly, and the Squire offered her a seat. + +"Nay, Squire," she said, "I'm come to ask a favor, and I won't sit +till I know whether I get it or not; for if I don't get it, I shall say +good-by as quickly as I can. Our John Thomas came home this morning and +his friend with him, and I want invitations for the young men, both of +them. My great pleasure lies that way--if you'll give it to me." + +"Most gladly," answered the Squire, and Ethel immediately went for the +necessary passports. When she returned she found Mrs. Nicholas helping +Ruth and the Squire to arrange the large silver and cut crystal on the +sideboard, and talking at the same time with unabated vivacity. + +"Yes," she was saying, "the lads would have been here two days ago, but +they stayed in London to see some American lady married. John Thomas's +friend knew her. She was married at the Ambassador's house. A fine +affair enough, but it bewilders me this taking up marriage without +priest or book. It's a new commission. The Church's warrant, it seems, +is out of date. It may be right' it may be legal, but I told John Thomas +if he ever got himself married in that kind of a way, he wouldn't have +father or me for witnesses." + +"I am glad," said the Squire, "that the young men are home in time for +our dance. The young like such things." + +"To be sure they do. John Thomas wouldn't give me a moment's rest till +I came here. I didn't want to come. I thought John Thomas should come +himself, and I told him plainly that I was ready to do anyone a favor +if I could, but if he wanted me to come because he was afraid to come +himself, I was just as ready to shirk the journey. And he laughed and +said he was not feared for any woman living, but he did want to make his +first appearance in his best clothes--and that was natural, wasn't it? +So I came for the two lads." Then she looked at the girls with a smile, +and said in a comfortable kind of way: "You'll find them very nice +lads, indeed. I can speak for John Thomas, I have taken his measure long +since; and as far as I can judge his friend, Nature went about some full +work when she made a man of him. He's got a sweet temper, and a strong +mind, and a straight judgment, if I know anything about men--which +Nicholas sometimes makes me think I don't. But Nicholas isn't an +ordinary man, he's what you call 'an exception.'" Then shaking her head +at Ethel, she continued reprovingly: "You were neither of you in +church Sunday. I know some young women who went to the parish +church--Methodists they are--specially to see your new hats. There's +some talk about them, I can tell you, and the village milliner is +pestered to copy them. She keeps her eyes open for you. You disappointed +a lot of people. You ought to go to church in the country. It's the most +respectable thing you can do." + +"We were both very tired," said Ruth, "and the sun was hot, and we had a +good Sabbath at home. Ethel read the Psalms, Epistle and Gospel for +the day, and the Squire gave us some of the grandest organ music I ever +heard." + +"Well, well! Everyone knows the Squire is a grand player. I don't +suppose there is another to match him in the whole world, and the old +feeling about church-going is getting slack among the young people. They +serve God now very much at their ease." + +"Is not that better than serving Him on compulsion?" asked Ruth. + +"I dare say. I'm no bigot. I was brought up an Independent, and went +to their chapel until I married Nicholas Rawdon. My father was a +broad-thinking man. He never taught me to locate God in any building; +and I'm sure I don't believe our parish church is His dwelling-place. +If it is, they ought to mend the roof and put a new carpet down and +make things cleaner and more respectable. Well, Squire, you have silver +enough to tempt all the rogues in Yorkshire, and there's a lot of them. +But now I've seen it, I'll go home with these bits of paper. I shall be +a very important woman to-night. Them two lads won't know how to fleech +and flatter me enough. I'll be waited on hand and foot. And Nicholas +will get a bit of a set-down. He was bragging about Miss Ethel bringing +his invitation to his hand and promising to dance with him. I wouldn't +do it if I were Miss Ethel. She'll find out, if she does, what it means +to dance with a man that weighs twenty stone, and who has never turned +hand nor foot to anything but money-making for thirty years." + +She went away with a sweep and a rustle of her shimmering silk skirt, +and left behind her such an atmosphere of hearty good-nature as made +the last rush and crowd of preparations easily ordered and quickly +accomplished. Before her arrival there had been some doubt as to the +weather. She brought the shining sun with her, and when he set, he left +them with the promise of a splendid to-morrow--a promise amply redeemed +when the next day dawned. Indeed, the sunshine was so brilliant, the +garden so gay and sweet, the lawn so green and firm, the avenues so +shady and full of wandering songs, that it was resolved to hold the +preliminary reception out of doors. Ethel and Ruth were to receive on +the lawn, and at the open hall door the Squire would wait to welcome his +guests. + +Soon after five o'clock there was a brilliant crowd wandering and +resting in the pleasant spaces; and Ethel, wearing a diaphanously white +robe and carrying a rush basket full of white carnations, was moving +among them distributing the flowers. She was thus the center of a +little laughing, bantering group when the Nicholas Rawdon party arrived. +Nicholas remained with the Squire, Mrs. Rawdon and the young men +went toward Ethel. Mrs. Rawdon made a very handsome appearance--"an +aristocratic Britannia in white liberty silk and old lace," whispered +Ruth, and Ethel looked up quickly, to meet her merry eyes full of some +unexplained triumph. In truth, the proud mother was anticipating a great +pleasure, not only in the presentation of her adored son, but also in +the curiosity and astonishment she felt sure would be evoked by his +friend. So, with the boldness of one who brings happy tidings, she +pressed forward. Ethel saw her approach, and went to meet her. Suddenly +her steps were arrested. An extraordinary thing was going to happen. The +Apollo of her dreams, the singer of the Holland House pavement, was at +Mrs. Rawdon's side, was talking to her, was evidently a familiar friend. +She was going to meet him, to speak to him at last. She would hear his +name in a few moments; all that she had hoped and believed was coming +true. And the clear, resonant voice of Lydia Rawdon was like music in +her ears as she said, with an air of triumph she could not hide: + +"Miss Rawdon, I want you to know my son, Mr. John Thomas Rawdon, and +also John Thomas's cousin, Mr. Tyrrel Rawdon, of the United States." +Then Mr. Tyrrel Rawdon looked into Ethel's face, and in that marvelous +meeting of their eyes, swift as the firing of a gun, their pupils +dilated and flashed with recognition, and the blood rushed crimson +over both faces. She gave the gentlemen flowers, and listened to Mrs. +Rawdon's chatter, and said in reply she knew not what. A swift and +exquisite excitement had followed her surprise. Feelings she could +not voice were beating at her lips, and yet she knew that without her +conscious will she had expressed her astonishment and pleasure. It +was, indeed, doubtful whether any after speech or explanation would as +clearly satisfy both hearts as did that momentary flash from soul to +soul of mutual remembrance and interest. + +"I thought I'd give you a surprise," said Mrs. Rawdon delightedly. "You +didn't know the Tyrrel-Rawdons had a branch in America, did you? We are +a bit proud of them, I can tell you that." + +And, indeed, the motherly lady had some reason. John Thomas was a +handsome youth of symmetrical bone and flesh and well-developed muscle. +He had clear, steady, humorous eyes; a manner frank and independent, +not to be put upon; and yet Ethel divined, though she could not have +declared, the "want" in his appearance--that all-overish grace and +elasticity which comes only from the development of the brain and +nervous system. His face was also marred by the seal of commonness which +trade impresses on so many men, the result of the subjection of the +intellect to the will, and of the impossibility of grasping things +except as they relate to self. In this respect the American cousin was +his antipodes. His whole body had a psychical expression--slim, +elastic, alert. Over his bright gray eyes the eyelids drew themselves +horizontally, showing his dexterity and acuteness of mind; indeed, his +whole expression and mien + + "Were, as are the eagle's keen, + All the man was aquiline." + + +These personal characteristics taking some minutes to describe were +almost an instantaneous revelation to Ethel, for what the soul sees it +sees in a flash of understanding. But at that time she only answered her +impressions without any inquiry concerning them. She was absorbed by the +personal presence of the men, and all that was lovely and lovable in her +nature responded to their admiration. + +As they strolled together through a flowery alley, she made them pass +their hands through the thyme and lavender, and listen to a bird singing +its verses, loud and then soft, in the scented air above them. They +came out where the purple plums and golden apricots were beginning to +brighten a southern wall, and there, moodily walking by himself, they +met Mostyn face to face. An angry flash and movement interpreted his +annoyance, but he immediately recovered himself, and met Ethel and his +late political opponent with polite equanimity. But a decided constraint +fell on the happy party, and Ethel was relieved to hear the first +tones of the great bell swing out from its lofty tower the call to the +dining-room. + +As far as Mostyn was concerned, this first malapropos meeting indicated +the whole evening. His heart was beating quickly to some sense of defeat +which he did not take the trouble to analyze. He only saw the man who +had shattered his political hopes and wasted his money in possession +also of what he thought he might rightly consider his place at Ethel's +side. He had once contemplated making Ethel his bride, and though the +matrimonial idea had collapsed as completely as the political one, the +envious, selfish misery of the "dog in the manger" was eating at his +heartstrings. He did not want Ethel; but oh, how he hated the thought of +either John Thomas or that American Raw-don winning her! His seat at the +dinner-table also annoyed him. It was far enough from the objects of +his resentment to prevent him hearing or interfering in their merry +conversation; and he told himself with passionate indignation that Ethel +had never once in all their intercourse been so beautiful and bright as +she revealed herself that evening to those two Rawdon youths--one a mere +loom-master, the other an American whom no one knew anything about. + +The long, bewitching hours of the glorious evening added fuel to the +flame of his anger. He could only procure from Ethel the promise of one +unimportant dance at the close of her programme; and the American had +three dances, and the mere loom-man two. And though he attempted to +restore his self-complacency by devoting his whole attentions to the +only titled young ladies in the room, he had throughout the evening +a sense of being snubbed, and of being a person no longer of much +importance at Rawdon Court. And the reasoning of wounded self-love is a +singular process. Mostyn was quite oblivious of any personal cause for +the change; he attributed it entirely to the Squire's ingratitude. + +"I did the Squire a good turn when he needed it, and of course he hates +me for the obligation; and as for the Judge and his fine daughter, they +interfered with my business--did me a great wrong--and they are only +illustrating the old saying, 'Since I wronged you I never liked you.'" +After indulging such thoughts awhile, he resolved to escort the ladies +Aurelia and Isolde Danvers to Danvers Castle, and leave Miss Ethel to +find a partner for her last dance, a decision that favored John Thomas, +greatly relieved Ethel, and bestowed upon himself that most irritating +of all punishments, a self-inflicted disappointment. + +This evening was the inauguration of a period of undimmed delight. In it +the Tyrrel-Rawdons concluded a firm and affectionate alliance with the +elder branch at the Court, and one day after a happy family dinner +John Thomas made the startling proposal that "the portrait of the +disinherited, disowned Tyrrel should be restored to its place in the +family gallery." He said he had "just walked through it, and noticed +that the spot was still vacant, and I think surely," he added, "the +young man's father must have meant to recall him home some day, but +perhaps death took him unawares." + +"Died in the hunting-field," murmured the Squire. + +John Thomas bowed his head to the remark, and proceeded, "So perhaps, +Squire, it may be in your heart to forgive the dead, and bring back the +poor lad's picture to its place. They who sin for love aren't so bad, +sir, as they who sin for money. I never heard worse of Tyrrel Rawdon +than that he loved a poor woman instead of a rich woman--and married +her. Those that have gone before us into the next life, I should think +are good friends together; and I wouldn't wonder if we might even make +them happier there if we conclude to forget all old wrongs and live +together here--as Rawdons ought to live--like one family." + +"I am of your opinion, John Thomas," said the Squire, rising, and as he +did so he looked at the Judge, who immediately indorsed the proposal. +One after the other rose with sweet and strong assent, until there was +only Tyrrel Rawdon's voice lacking. But when all had spoken he rose +also, and said: + +"I am Tyrrel Rawdon's direct descendant, and I speak for him when I say +to-day, 'Make room for me among my kindred!' He that loves much may be +forgiven much." + +Then the housekeeper was called, and they went slowly, with soft words, +up to the third story of the house. And the room unused for a century +was flung wide open; the shutters were unbarred, and the sunshine +flooded it; and there amid his fishing tackle, guns, and whips, and +faded ballads upon the wall, and books of wood lore and botany, and +dress suits of velvet and satin, and hunting suits of scarlet--all faded +and falling to pieces--stood the picture of Tyrrel Rawdon, with its face +turned to the wall. The Squire made a motion to his descendant, and the +young American tenderly turned it to the light. There was no decay on +those painted lineaments. The almost boyish face, with its loving eyes +and laughing mouth, was still twenty-four years old; and with a look of +pride and affection the Squire lifted the picture and placed it in the +hands of the Tyrrel Rawdon of the day. + +The hanging of the picture in its old place was a silent and tender +little ceremony, and after it the party separated. Mrs. Rawdon went +with Ruth to rest a little. She said "she had a headache," and she also +wanted a good womanly talk over the affair. The Squire, Judge Rawdon, +Mr. Nicholas Rawdon, and John Thomas returned to the dining-room to +drink a bottle of such mild Madeira as can only now be found in the +cellars of old county magnates, and Ethel and Tyrrel Rawdon strolled +into the garden. There had not been in either mind any intention of +leaving the party, but as they passed through the hall Tyrrel saw +Ethel's garden hat and white parasol lying on a table, and, impelled by +some sudden and unreasoned instinct, he offered them to her. Not a word +of request was spoken; it was the eager, passionate command of his +eyes she obeyed. And for a few minutes they were speechless, then so +intensely conscious that words stumbled and were lame, and they managed +only syllables at a time. But he took her hand, and they came by sunny +alleys of boxwood to a great plane tree, bearing at wondrous height +a mighty wealth of branches. A bank of soft, green turf encircled its +roots, and they sat down in the trembling shadows. It was in the midst +of the herb garden; beds of mint and thyme, rosemary and marjoram, +basil, lavender, and other fragrant plants were around, and close at +hand a little city of straw skeps peopled by golden brown bees; From +these skeps came a delicious aroma of riced flowers and virgin wax. It +was a new Garden of Eden, in which life was sweet as perfume and pure as +prayer. Nothing stirred the green, sunny afternoon but the murmur of the +bees, and the sleepy twittering of the birds in the plane branches. An +inexpressible peace swept like the breath of heaven through the odorous +places. They sat down sighing for very happiness. The silence became too +eloquent. At length it was almost unendurable, and Ethel said softly: + +"How still it is!" + +Tyrrel looked at her steadily with beaming eyes. Then he took from his +pocket a little purse of woven gold and opal-tinted beads, and held it +in his open hand for her to see, watching the bright blush that spread +over her face, and the faint, glad smile that parted her lips. + +"You understand?" + +"Yes. It is mine." + +"It was yours. It is now mine." + +"How did you get it?" + +"I bought it from the old man you gave it to." + +"Oh! Then you know him? How is that?" + +"The hotel people sent a porter home with him lest he should be robbed. +Next day I made inquiries, and this porter told me where he lived. I +went there and bought this purse from him. I knew some day it would +bring me to you. I have carried it over my heart ever since." + +"So you noticed me?" + +"I saw you all the time I was singing. I have never forgotten you since +that hour." + +"What made you sing?" + +"Compassion, fate, an urgent impulse; perhaps, indeed, your piteous +face--I saw it first." + +"Really?" + +"I saw it first. I saw it all the time I was singing. When you dropped +this purse my soul met yours in a moment's greeting. It was a promise. +I knew I should meet you again. I have loved you ever since. I wanted +to tell you so the hour we met. It has been hard to keep my secret so +long." + +"It was my secret also." + +"I love you beyond all words. My life is in your hands. You can make me +the gladdest of mortals. You can send me away forever." + +"Oh, no, I could not! I could not do that!" The rest escapes words; but +thus it was that on this day of days these two came by God's grace to +each other. + + For all things come by fate to flower, + At their unconquerable hour. + +And the very atmosphere of such bliss is diffusive; it seemed as if all +the living creatures around understood. In the thick, green branches +the birds began to twitter the secret, and certainly the wise, wise bees +knew also, in some occult way, of the love and joy that had just been +revealed. A wonderful humming and buzzing filled the hives, and the +air vibrated with the movement of wings. Some influence more swift and +secret than the birds of the air carried the matter further, for it +finally reached Royal, the Squire's favorite collie, who came sauntering +down the alley, pushed his nose twice under Ethel's elbow, and then with +a significant look backward, advised the lovers to follow him to the +house. + +When they finally accepted his invitation, they found Mrs. Rawdon +drinking a cup of tea with Ruth in the hall. Ethel joined them with +affected high spirits and random explanations and excuses, but both +women no-ticed her radiant face and exulting air. "The garden is such a +heavenly place," she said ecstatically, and Mrs Rawdon remarked, as she +rose and put her cup on the table, "Girls need chaperons in gardens if +they need them anywhere. I made Nicholas Rawdon a promise in Mossgill +Garden I've had to spend all my life since trying to keep." + +"Tyrrel and I have been sitting under the plane tree watching the bees. +They are such busy, sensible creatures." + +"They are that," answered Mrs. Rawdon. "If you knew all about them you +would wonder a bit. My father had a great many; he studied their ways +and used to laugh at the ladies of the hive being so like the ladies of +the world. You see the young lady bees are just as inexperienced as a +schoolgirl. They get lost in the flowers, and are often so overtaken and +reckless, that the night finds them far from the hive, heavy with +pollen and chilled with cold. Sometimes father would lift one of these +imprudent young things, carry it home, and try to get it admitted. He +never could manage it. The lady bees acted just as women are apt to do +when other women GO where they don't go, or DO as they don't do." + +"But this is interesting," said Ruth. "Pray, how did the ladies of the +hive behave to the culprit?" + +"They came out and felt her all over, turned her round and round, and +then pushed her out of their community. There was always a deal of +buzzing about the poor, silly thing, and I shouldn't wonder if their +stings were busy too. Bees are ill-natured as they can be. Well, well, +I don't blame anyone for sitting in the garden such a day as this; only, +as I was saying, gardens have been very dangerous places for women as +far as I know." + +Ruth laughed softly. "I shall take a chaperon with me, then, when I go +into the garden." + +"I would, dearie. There's the Judge; he's a very suitable, +sedate-looking one but you never can tell. The first woman found in a +garden and a tree had plenty of sorrow for herself and every woman that +has lived after her. I wish Nicholas and John Thomas would come. I'll +warrant they're talking what they call politics." + +Politics was precisely the subject which had been occupying them, for +when Tyrrel entered the dining-room, the Squire, Judge Rawdon, and +Mr. Nicholas Rawdon were all standing, evidently just finishing a +Conservative argument against the Radical opinions of John Thomas. The +young man was still sitting, but he rose with smiling good-humor as +Tyrrel entered. + +"Here is Cousin Tyrrel," he cried; "he will tell you that you may call +a government anything you like radical, conservative, republican, +democratic, socialistic, but if it isn't a CHEAP government, it isn't a +good government; and there won't be a cheap government in England till +poor men have a deal to say about making laws and voting taxes." + +"Is that the kind of stuff you talk to our hands, John Thomas? No wonder +they are neither to hold nor to bind." + +They were in the hall as John Thomas finished his political creed, and +in a few minutes the adieux were said, and the wonderful day was over. +It had been a wonderful day for all, but perhaps no one was sorry for a +pause in life--a pause in which they might rest and try to realize what +it had brought and what it had taken away. The Squire went at once to +his room, and Ethel looked at Ruth inquiringly. She seemed exhausted, +and was out of sympathy with all her surroundings. + +"What enormous vitality these Yorkshire women must have!" she said +almost crossly. "Mrs. Rawdon has been talking incessantly for six hours. +She has felt all she said. She has frequently risen and walked about. +She has used all sorts of actions to emphasize her words, and she is as +fresh as if she had just taken her morning bath. How do the men stand +them?" + +"Because they are just as vital. John Thomas will overlook and scold +and order his thousand hands all day, talk even his mother down while he +eats his dinner, and then lecture or lead his Musical Union, or conduct +a poor man's concert, or go to 'the Weaver's Union,' and what he calls +'threep them' for two or three hours that labor is ruining capital, +and killing the goose that lays golden eggs for them. Oh, they are a +wonderful race, Ruth!" + +"I really can't discuss them now, Ethel." + +"Don't you want to know what Tyrrel said to me this afternoon?" + +"My dear, I know. Lovers have said such things before, and lovers will +say them evermore. You shall tell me in the morning. I thought he looked +distrait and bored with our company." + +Indeed, Tyrrel was so remarkably quiet that John Thomas also noticed his +mood, and as they sat smoking in Tyrrel's room, he resolved to find out +the reason, and with his usual directness asked: + +"What do you think of Ethel Rawdon, Tyrrel." + +"I think she is the most beautiful woman I ever saw. She has also the +most sincere nature, and her high spirit is sweetly tempered by her +affectionate heart." + +"I am glad you know so much about her. Look here, Cousin Tyrrel, I +fancied to-night you were a bit jealous of me. It is easy to see you are +in love, and I've no doubt you were thinking of the days when you would +be thousands of miles away, and I should have the ground clear and so +on, eh?" + +"Suppose I was, cousin, what then?" + +"You would be worrying for nothing. I don't want to marry Ethel Rawdon. +If I did, you would have to be on the ground all the time, and then I +should best you; but I picked out my wife two years ago, and if we are +both alive and well, we are going to be married next Christmas." + +"I am delighted. I----" + +"I thought you would be." + +"Who is the young lady?" + +"Miss Lucy Watson. Her father is the Independent minister. He is a +gentleman, though his salary is less than we give our overseer. And he +is a great scholar. So is Lucy. She finished her course at college this +summer, and with high honors. Bless you, Tyrrel, she knows far more +than I do about everything but warps and looms and such like. I admire a +clever woman, and I'm proud of Lucy." + +"Where is she now?" + +"Well, she was a bit done up with so much study, and so she went to +Scarborough for a few weeks. She has an aunt there. The sea breezes and +salt water soon made her fit for anything. She may be home very soon +now. Then, Tyrrel, you'll see a beauty--face like a rose, hair brown as +a nut, eyes that make your heart go galloping, the most enticing mouth, +the prettiest figure, and she loves me with all her heart. When she says +'John Thomas, dear one,' I tremble with pleasure, and when she lets me +kiss her sweet mouth, I really don't know where I am. What would you say +if a girl whispered, 'I love you, and nobody but you,' and gave you a +kiss that was like--like wine and roses? Now what would you say?" + +"I know as little as you do what I would say. It's a situation to make a +man coin new words. I suppose your family are pleased." + +"Well, I never thought about my family till I had Lucy's word. Then I +told mother. She knew Lucy all through. Mother has a great respect for +Independents, and though father sulked a bit at first, mother had it +out with him one night, and when mother has father quiet in their room +father comes to see things just as she wants him. I suppose that's the +way with wives. Lucy will be just like that. She's got a sharp little +temper, too. She'll let me have a bit of it, no doubt, now and then." + +"Will you like that?" + +"I wouldn't care a farthing for a wife without a bit of temper. There +would be no fun in living with a woman of that kind. My father would +droop and pine if mother didn't spur him on now and then. And he likes +it. Don't I know? I've seen mother snappy and awkward with him all +breakfast time, tossing her head, and rattling the china, and declaring +she was worn out with men that let all the good bargains pass them; +perhaps making fun of us because we couldn't manage to get along without +strikes. She had no strikes with her hands, she'd like to see her women +stand up and talk to her about shorter hours, and so on; and father +would look at me sly-like, and as we walked to the mill together he'd +laugh contentedly and say, 'Your mother was quite refreshing this +morning, John Thomas. She has keyed me up to a right pitch. When +Jonathan Arkroyd comes about that wool he sold us I'll be all ready +for him.' So you see I'm not against a sharp temper. I like women as +Tennyson says English girls are, 'roses set round with little wilful +thorns,' eh?" + +Unusual as this conversation was, its general tone was assumed by Ethel +in her confidential talk with Ruth the following day. Of course, Ruth +was not at all surprised at the news Ethel brought her, for though the +lovers had been individually sure they had betrayed their secret to +no one, it had really been an open one to Ruth since the hour of their +meeting. She was sincerely ardent in her praises of Tyrrel Rawdon, +but--and there is always a but--she wondered if Ethel had "noticed what +a quick temper he had." + +"Oh, yes," answered Ethel, "I should not like him not to have a quick +temper. I expect my husband to stand up at a moment's notice for either +mine or his own rights or opinions." + +And in the afternoon when all preliminaries had been settled and +approved, Judge Rawdon expressed himself in the same manner to Ruth. +"Yes," he said, in reply to her timid suggestion of temper, "you +can strike fire anywhere with him if you try it, but he has it under +control. Besides, Ethel is just as quick to flame up. It will be Rawdon +against Rawdon, and Ethel's weapons are of finer, keener steel than +Tyrrel's. Ethel will hold her own. It is best so." + +"How did the Squire feel about such a marriage?" + +"He was quite overcome with delight. Nothing was said to Tyrrel about +Ethel having bought the reversion of Rawdon Manor, for things have been +harder to get into proper shape than I thought they would be, and it may +be another month before all is finally settled; but the Squire has the +secret satisfaction, and he was much affected by the certainty of a +Rawdon at Rawdon Court after him. He declined to think of it in any +other way but 'providential,' and of course I let him take all the +satisfaction he could out of the idea. Ever since he heard of the +engagement he has been at the organ singing the One Hundred and Third +Psalm." + +"He is the dearest and noblest of men. How soon shall we go home now?" + +"In about a month. Are you tired of England?" + +"I shall be glad to see America again. There was a letter from Dora this +morning. They sail on the twenty-third." + +"Do you know anything of Mostyn?" + +"Since he wrote us a polite farewell we have heard nothing." + +"Do you think he went to America?" + +"I cannot tell. When he bid us good-by he made no statement as to his +destination; he merely said 'he was leaving England on business.'" + +"Well, Ruth, we shall sail as soon as I am satisfied all is right. There +is a little delay about some leases and other matters. In the meantime +the lovers are in Paradise wherever we locate them." + +And in Paradise they dwelt for another four weeks. The ancient garden +had doubtless many a dream of love to keep, but none sweeter or truer +than the idyl of Tyrrel and Ethel Rawdon. They were never weary of +rehearsing it; every incident of its growth had been charming and +romantic, and, as they believed, appointed from afar. As the sum-mer +waxed hotter the beautiful place took on an appearance of royal color +and splendor, and the air was languid with the perfume of the clove +carnations and tall white August lilies. Fluted dahlias, scarlet +poppies, and all the flowers that exhale their spice in the last hot +days of August burned incense for them. Their very hair was laden with +odor, their fingers flower-sweet, their minds took on the many colors of +their exquisite surroundings. + +And it was part of this drama of love and scent and color that they +should see it slowly assume the more ethereal loveliness of September, +and watch the subtle amber rays shine through the thinning boughs, and +feel that all nature was becoming idealized. The birds were then mostly +silent. They had left their best notes on the hawthorns and among the +roses; but the crickets made a cheerful chirrup, and the great brown +butterflies displayed their richest velvets, and the gossamer-like +insects in the dreamy atmosphere performed dances and undulations full +of grace and mystery. And all these marvelous changes imparted to love +that sweet sadness which is beyond all words poetic and enchaining. + +Yet however sweet the hours, they pass away, and it is not much memory +can save from the mutable, happy days of love. Still, when the hour of +departure came they had garnered enough to sweeten all the after-straits +and stress of time. September had then perceptibly begun to add to +the nights and shorten the days, and her tender touch had been laid on +everything. With a smile and a sigh the Rawdons turned their faces to +their pleasant home in the Land of the West. It was to be but a short +farewell. They had promised the Squire to return the following summer, +but he felt the desolation of the parting very keenly. With his hat +slightly lifted above his white head, he stood watching them out of +sight. Then he went to his organ, and very soon grand waves of melody +rolled outward and upward, and blended themselves with the clear, +soaring voice of Joel, the lad who blew the bellows of the instrument, +and shared all his master's joy in it. They played and sang until the +Squire rose weary, but full of gladness. The look of immortality was in +his eyes, its sure and certain hope in his heart. He let Joel lead him +to his chair by the window, and then he said to himself with visible +triumph: + +"What Mr. Spencer or anyone else writes about 'the Unknowable' I care +not. I KNOW IN WHOM I have believed. Joel, sing that last sequence +again. Stand where I can see thee." And the lad's joyful voice rang +exulting out: + +"Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations. Before the +mountains were brought forth, or ever Thou hadst formed the world, from +everlasting to everlasting Thou art God! Thou art God! Thou art God!" + +"That will do, Joel. Go thy ways now. Lord, Thou hast been our +dwelling-place in all generations. 'Unknowable,' Thou hast been our +dwelling-place in all generations. No, no, no, what an ungrateful sinner +I would be to change the Lord everlasting for the Unknowable.'" + + + +CHAPTER IX + +NEW YORK is at its very brightest and best in October. This month of the +year may be safely trusted not to disappoint. The skies are blue, the +air balmy, and there is generally a delightful absence of wind. The +summer exiles are home again from Jersey boarding houses, and mountain +camps, and seaside hotels, and thankful to the point of hilarity that +this episode of the year is over, that they can once more dwell under +their own roofs without breaking any of the manifest laws of the great +goddess Custom or Fashion. + +Judge Rawdon's house had an especially charming "at home" appearance. +During the absence of the family it had been made beautiful inside and +outside, and the white stone, the plate glass, and falling lace evident +to the street, had an almost conscious look of luxurious propriety. + +The Judge frankly admitted his pleasure in his home surroundings. He +said, as they ate their first meal in the familiar room, that "a visit +to foreign countries was a grand, patriotic tonic." He vowed that the +"first sight of the Stars and Stripes at Sandy Hook had given him the +finest emotion he had ever felt in his life," and was altogether in +his proudest American mood. Ruth sympathized with him. Ethel listened +smiling. She knew well that the English strain had only temporarily +exhausted itself; it would have its period of revival at the proper +time. + +"I am going to see grandmother," she said gayly. "I shall stay with her +all day." + +"But I have a letter from her," interrupted the Judge, "and she will not +return home until next week." + +"I am sorry. I was anticipating so eagerly the joy of seeing her. Well, +as I cannot do so, I will go and call on Dora Stanhope." + +"I would not if I were you, Ethel," said Ruth. "Let her come and call on +you." + +"I had a little note from her this morning, welcoming me home, and +entreating me to call." + +The Judge rose as Ethel was speaking, and no more was said about the +visit at that time but a few hours later Ethel came down from her room +ready for the street and frankly told Ruth she had made up her mind to +call on Dora. + +"Then I will only remind you, Ethel, that Dora is not a fortunate woman +to know. As far as I can see, she is one of those who sow pain of heart +and vexation of spirit about every house they enter, even their own. +But I cannot gather experience for you, it will have to grow in your own +garden." + +"All right, dear Ruth, and if I do not like its growth, I will pull it +up by the roots, I assure you." + +Ruth went with her to the door and watched her walk leisurely down the +broad steps to the street. The light kindled in her eyes and on her face +as she did so. She already felt the magnetism of the great city, and +with a laughing farewell walked rapidly toward Dora's house. + +Her card brought an instant response, and she heard Dora's welcome +before the door was opened. And her first greeting was an enthusiastic +compliment, "How beautiful you have grown, Ethel!" she cried. "Ah, that +is the European finish. You have gained it, my dear; you really are very +much improved." + +"And you also, Dora?" + +The words were really a question, but Dora accepted them as an +assertion, and was satisfied. + +"I suppose I am," she answered, "though I'm sure I can't tell how it +should be so, unless worry of all kinds is good for good looks. I've had +enough of that for a lifetime." + +"Now, Dora." + +"Oh, it's the solid truth--partly your fault too." + +"I never interfered----" + +"Of course you didn't, but you ought to have interfered. When you called +on me in London you might have seen that I was not happy; and I wanted +to come to Rawdon Court, and you would not invite me. I called your +behavior then 'very mean,' and I have not altered my opinion of it." + +"There were good reasons, Dora, why I could not ask you." + +"Good reasons are usually selfish ones, Ethel, and Fred Mostyn told me +what they were. + +"He likely told you untruths, Dora, for he knew nothing about my +reasons. I saw very little of him." + +"I know. You treated him as badly as you treated me, and all for some +wild West creature--a regular cowboy, Fred said, but then a Rawdon!" + +"Mr. Mostyn has misrepresented Mr. Tyrrel Rawdon--that is all about it. +I shall not explain 'how' or 'why.' Did you enjoy yourself at Stanhope +Castle?" + +"Enjoy myself! Are you making fun of me? Ethel, dear, it was the most +awful experience. You never can imagine such a life, and such women. +They were dressed for a walk at six o'clock; they had breakfast at +half-past seven. They went to the village and inspected cottages, and +gave lessons in housekeeping or dressmaking or some other drudgery till +noon. They walked back to the Castle for lunch. They attended to their +own improvement from half-past one until four, had lessons in drawing +and chemistry, and, I believe, electricity. They had another walk, and +then indulged themselves with a cup of tea. They dressed and received +visitors, and read science or theology between whiles. There was always +some noted preacher or scholar at the dinner table. The conversation was +about acids and explosives, or the planets or bishops, or else on the +never, never-ending subject of elevating the workingman and building +schools for his children. Basil, of course, enjoyed it. He thought he +was giving me a magnificent object lesson. He was never done praising +the ladies Mary Elinor and Adelaide Stanhope. I'm sure I wish he had +married one or all of them--and I told him so." + +"You could not be so cruel, Dora." + +"I managed it with the greatest ease imaginable. He was always trotting +at their side. They spoke of him as 'the most pious young man.' I have +no doubt they were all in love with him. I hope they were. I used to +pretend to be very much in love when they were present. I dare say it +made them wretched. Besides, they blushed and thought me improper. Basil +didn't approve, either, so I hit all round." + +She rose at this memory and shook out her silk skirts, and walked up and +down the room with an air that was the visible expression of the mockery +and jealousy in her heart. This was an entirely different Dora to the +lachrymose, untidy wife at the Savoy Hotel in London, and Ethel had a +momentary pang at the thought of the suffering which was responsible for +the change. + +"If I had thought, Dora, you were so uncomfortable, I would have asked +Basil and you to the Court." + +"You saw I was not happy when I was at the Savoy." + +"I thought you and Basil had had a kind of lovers' quarrel, and that it +would blow over in an hour or two; no one likes to meddle with an affair +of that kind. Are you going to Newport, or is Mrs. Denning in New York?" + +"That is another trouble, Ethel. When I wrote mother I wanted to come to +her, she sent me word she was going to Lenox with a friend. Then, like +you, she said 'she had no liberty to invite me,' and so on. I never knew +mother act in such a way before. I nearly broke my heart about it for a +few days, then I made up my mind I wouldn't care." + +"Mrs. Denning, I am sure, thought she did the wisest and kindest thing +possible." + +"I didn't want mother to be wise. I wanted her to understand that I was +fairly worn out with my present life and needed a change. I'm sure +she did understand. Then why was she so cruel?" and she shrugged +her shoulders impatiently and sat down. "I'm so tired of life," she +continued. "When did you hear of Fred Mostyn?" + +"I know nothing of his movements. Is he in America?" + +"Somewhere. I asked mother if he was in Newport, and she never answered +the ques-tion. I suppose he will be in New York for the winter season. I +hope so." + +This topic threatened to be more dangerous than the other, and +Ethel, after many and futile attempts to bring conversation into safe +commonplace channels, pleaded other engagements and went away. She was +painfully depressed by the interview. All the elements of tragedy were +gathered together under the roof she had just left, and, as far as she +could see, there was no deliverer wise and strong enough to prevent a +calamity. She did not repeat to Ruth the conversation which had been so +painful to her. She described Dora's dress and appearance, and commented +on Fred Mostyn's description of Tyrrel Rawdon, and on Mrs. Denning's +refusal of her daughter's proposed visit. + +Ruth thought the latter circumstance significant. "I dare say Mostyn +was in Newport at that time," she answered. "Mrs. Denning has some very +quick perceptions." And Ruth's opinion was probably correct, for during +dinner the Judge remarked in a casual manner that he had met Mr. Mostyn +on the avenue as he was coming home. "He was well," he said, "and made +all the usual inquiries as to your health." And both Ruth and Ethel +understood that he wished them to know of Mostyn's presence in the city, +and to be prepared for meeting him; but did not care to discuss +the subject further, at least at that time. The information brought +precisely the same thought at the same moment to both women, and as soon +as they were alone they uttered it. + +"She knew Mostyn was in the city," said Ethel in a low voice. + +"Certainly." + +"She was expecting him." + +"I am sure of it." + +"Her elaborate and beautiful dressing was for him." + +"Poor Basil!" + +"She asked me to stay and lunch with her, but very coolly, and when +I refused, did not press the matter as she used to do. Yes, she was +expecting him. I understand now her nervous manner, her restlessness, +her indifference to my short visit. I wish I could do anything." + +"You cannot, and you must not try." + +"Some one must try." + +"There is her husband. Have you heard from Tyrrel yet." + +"I have had a couple of telegrams. He will write from Chicago." + +"Is he going at once to the Hot Springs?" + +"As rapidly as possible. Colonel Rawdon is now there, and very ill. +Tyrrel will put his father first of all. The trouble at the mine can be +investigated afterwards." + +"You will miss him very much. You have been so happy together." + +"Of course I shall miss him. But it will be a good thing for us to be +apart awhile. Love must have some time in which to grow. I am a little +tired of being very happy, and I think Tyrrel also will find absence a +relief. In 'Lalla Rookh' there is a line about love 'falling asleep in a +sameness of splendor.' It might. How melancholy is a long spell of hot, +sunshiny weather, and how gratefully we welcome the first shower of +rain." + +"Love has made you a philosopher, Ethel." + +"Well, it is rather an advantage than otherwise. I am going to take a +walk, Ruth, into the very heart of Broadway. I have had enough of the +peace of the country. I want the crack, and crash, and rattle, and grind +of wheels, the confused cries, the snatches of talk and laughter, the +tread of crowds, the sound of bells, and clocks, and chimes. I long for +all the chaotic, unintelligible noise of the streets. How suggestive +it is! Yet it never explains itself. It only gives one a full sense of +life. Love may need just the same stimulus. I wish grandmother would +come home. I should not require Broadway as a stimulus. I am afraid she +will be very angry with me, and there will be a battle royal in Gramercy +Park." + +It was nearly a week before Ethel had this crisis to meet. She went down +to it with a radiant face and charming manner, and her reception was +very cordial. Madam would not throw down the glove until the proper +moment; besides, there were many very interesting subjects to talk over, +and she wanted "to find things out" that would never be told unless +tempers were propitious. Added to these reasons was the solid one that +she really adored her granddaughter, and was immensely cheered by the +very sight of the rosy, smiling countenance lifted to her sitting-room +window in passing. She, indeed, pretended to be there in order to get +a good light for her new shell pattern, but she was watching for Ethel, +and Ethel understood the shell-pattern fiction very well. She had heard +something similar often. + +"My darling grandmother," she cried, "I thought you would never come +home." + +"It wasn't my fault, dear. Miss Hillis and an imbecile young doctor made +me believe I had a cold. I had no cold. I had nothing at all but what +I ought to have. I've been made to take all sorts of things, and do all +sorts of things that I hate to take and hate to do. For ten days I've +been kicking my old heels against bedclothes. Yesterday I took things in +my own hands." + +"Never mind, Granny dear, it was all a good discipline." + +"Discipline! You impertinent young lady! Discipline for your +grandmother! Discipline, indeed! That one word may cost you a thousand +dollars, miss." + +"I don't care if it does, only you must give the thousand dollars to +poor Miss Hillis." + +"Poor Miss Hillis has had a most comfortable time with me all summer." + +"I know she has, consequently she will feel her comfortless room and +poverty all the more after it. Give her the thousand, Granny. I'm +willing." + +"What kind of company have you been keeping, Ethel Rawdon? Who has +taught you to squander dollars by the thousand? Discipline! I think you +are giving me a little now--a thousand dollars a lesson, it seems--no +wonder, after the carryings-on at Rawdon Court." + +"Dear grandmother, we had the loveliest time you can imagine. And there +is not, in all the world, such a noble old gentleman as Squire Percival +Rawdon." + +"I know all about Percival Rawdon--a proud, careless, extravagant, +loose-at-ends man, dancing and singing and loving as it suited time and +season, taking no thought for the future, and spending with both hands; +hard on women, too, as could be." + +"Grandmother, I never saw a more courteous gentleman. He worships women. +He was never tired of talking about you." + +"What had he to say about me?" + +"That you were the loveliest girl in the county, and that he never could +forget the first time he saw you. He said you were like the vision of an +angel." + +"Nonsense! I was just a pretty girl in a book muslin frock and a white +sash, with a rose at my breast. I believe they use book muslin for +linings now, but it did make the sheerest, lightest frocks any girl +could want. Yes, I remember that time. I was going to a little party and +crossing a meadow to shorten the walk, and Squire Percival had been out +with his gun, and he laid it down and ran to help me over the stile. A +handsome young fellow he was then as ever stepped in shoe leather." + +"And he must have loved you dearly. He would sit hour after hour telling +Ruth and me how bright you were, and how all the young beaux around +Monk-Rawdon adored you." + +"Nonsense! Nonsense! I had beaux to be sure. What pretty girl hasn't?" + +"And he said his brother Edward won you because he was most worthy of +your love." + +"Well, now, I chose Edward Rawdon because he was willing to come to +America. I longed to get away from Monk-Rawdon. I was faint and weary +with the whole stupid place. And the idea of living a free and equal +life, and not caring what lords and squires and their proud ladies said +or did, pleased me wonderfully. We read about Niagara and the great +prairies and the new bright cities, and Edward and I resolved to +make our home there. Your grandfather wasn't a man to like being 'the +Squire's brother.' He could stand alone." + +"Are you glad you came to America?" + +"Never sorry a minute for it. Ten years in New York is worth fifty years +in Monk-Rawdon, or Rawdon Court either." + +"Squire Percival was very fond of me. He thought I resembled you, +grandmother, but he never admitted I was as handsome as you were." + +"Well, Ethel dear, you are handsome enough for the kind of men you'll +pick up in this generation--most of them bald at thirty, wearing +spectacles at twenty or earlier, and in spite of the fuss they make +about athletics breaking all to nervous bits about fifty." + +"Grandmother, that is pure slander. I know some very fine young men, +handsome and athletic both." + +"Beauty is a matter of taste, and as to their athletics, they can run +a mile with a blacksmith, but when the thermometer rises to eighty-five +degrees it knocks them all to pieces. They sit fanning themselves like +schoolgirls, and call for juleps and ice-water. I've got eyes yet, my +dear. Squire Percival was a different kind of man; he could follow the +hounds all day and dance all night. The hunt had not a rider like +him; he balked at neither hedge, gate, nor water; a right gallant, +courageous, honorable, affectionate gentleman as ever Yorkshire bred, +and she's bred lots of superfine ones. What ever made him get into such +a mess with his estate? Your grandfather thought him as straight as a +string in money matters." + +"You said just now he was careless and extravagant." + +"Well, I did him wrong, and I'm sorry for it. How did he manage to need +eighty thousand pounds?" + +"It is rather a pitiful story, grandmother, but he never once blamed +those who were in the wrong. His son for many years had been the real +manager of the estate. He was a speculator; his grandsons were wild and +extravagant. They began to borrow money ten years ago and had to go on." + +"Whom did they borrow from?" + +"Fred Mostyn's father." + +"The devil! Excuse me, Ethel--but the name suits and may stand." + +"The dear old Squire would have taken the fault on himself if he could +have done so. They that wronged him were his own, and they were dead. He +never spoke of them but with affection." + +"Poor Percival! Your father told me he was now out of Mostyn's power; +he said you had saved the estate, but he gave me no particulars. How did +you save it?" + +"Bought it!" + +"Nonsense!" + +"House and lands and outlying farms and timber--everything." + +Then a rosy color overspread Madam's face, her eyes sparkled, she rose +to her feet, made Ethel a sweeping courtesy, and said: + +"My respect and congratulations to Ethel, Lady of Rawdon Manor." + +"Dear grandmother, what else could I do?" + +"You did right." + +"The Squire is Lord of the Manor as long as he lives. My father says I +have done well to buy it. In the future, if I do not wish to keep it, +Nicholas Rawdon will relieve me at a great financial advantage." + +"Why didn't you let Nicholas Rawdon buy it now?" + +"He would have wanted prompt possession. The Squire would have had to +leave his home. It would have broken his heart." + +"I dare say. He has a soft, loving heart. That isn't always a blessing. +It can give one a deal of suffering. And I hear you have all been making +idols of these Tyrrel-Rawdons. Fred tells me they are as vulgar a lot as +can be." + +"Fred lies! Excuse me, grandmother--but the word suits and may stand. +Mr. Nicholas is pompous, and walks as slowly as if he had to carry the +weight of his great fortune; but his manners are all right, and his +wife and son are delightful. She is handsome, well dressed, and so +good-hearted that her pretty county idioms are really charming. John +Thomas is a man by himself--not handsome, but running over with good +temper, and exceedingly clever and wide-awake. Many times I was forced +to tell myself, John Thomas would make an ideal Squire of Rawdon." + +"Why don't you marry him." + +"He never asked me." + +"What was the matter with the men?" + +"He was already engaged to a very lovely young lady." + +"I am glad she is a lady." + +"She is also very clever. She has been to college and taken high honors, +a thing I have not done." + +"You might have done and overdone that caper; you were too sensible to +try it. Well, I'm glad that part of the family is looking up. They had +the right stuff in them, and it is a good thing for families to dwell +together in unity. We have King David's word for that. My observation +leads me to think it is far better for families to dwell apart, in +unity. They seldom get along comfortably together." + +Then Ethel related many pleasant, piquant scenes between the two +families at Monk-Rawdon, and especially that one in which the room of +the first Tyrrel had been opened and his likeness restored to its +place in the family gallery. It touched the old lady to tears, and she +murmured, "Poor lad! Poor lad! I wonder if he knows! I wonder if he +knows!" + +The crucial point of Ethel's revelations had not yet been revealed, +but Madam was now in a gentle mood, and Ethel took the opportunity to +introduce her to Tyrrel Rawdon. She was expecting and waiting for this +topic, but stubbornly refused to give Ethel any help toward bringing +it forward. At last, the girl felt a little anger at her pretended +indifference, and said, "I suppose Fred Mostyn told you about Mr. Tyrrel +Rawdon, of California?" + +"Tyrrel Rawdon, of California! Pray, who may he be?" + +"The son of Colonel Rawdon, of the United States Army." + +"Oh, to be sure! Well, what of him?" + +"I am going to marry him." + +"I shall see about that." + +"We were coming here together to see you, but before we left the steamer +he got a telegram urging him to go at once to his father, who is very +ill." + +"I have not asked him to come and see me. Perhaps he will wait till I do +so." + +"If you are not going to love Tyrrel, you need not love me. I won't have +you for a grandmother any longer." + +"I did without you sixty years. I shall not live another twelve months, +and I think I can manage to do without you for a granddaughter any +longer." + +"You cannot do without me. You would break your heart, and I should +break mine." Whereupon Ethel began to cry with a passion that quite +gratified the old lady. She watched her a few moments, and then said +gently: + +"There now, that will do. When he comes to New York bring him to see me. +And don't name the man in the meantime. I won't talk about him till I've +seen him. It isn't fair either way. Fred didn't like him." + +"Fred likes no one but Dora Stanhope." + +"Eh! What! Is that nonsense going on yet?" + +Then Ethel described her last two interviews with Dora. She did this +with scrupulous fidelity, making no suggestions that might prejudice the +case. For she really wanted her grandmother's decision in order to frame +her own conduct by it. Madam was not, however, in a hurry to give it. + +"What do you think?" she asked Ethel. + +"I have known Dora for many years; she has always told me everything." + +"But nothing about Fred?" + +"Nothing." + +"Nothing to tell, perhaps?" + +"Perhaps." + +"Where does her excellent husband come in?" + +"She says he is very kind to her in his way." + +"And his way is to drag her over the world to see the cathedrals +thereof, and to vary that pleasure with inspecting schools and +reformatories and listening to great preachers. Upon my word, I feel +sorry for the child! And I know all about such excellent people as the +Stanhopes. I used to go to what they call 'a pleasant evening' with +them. We sat around a big room lit with wax candles, and held improving +conversation, or some one sang one or two of Mrs. Hemans' songs, like +'Passing Away' or 'He Never Smiled Again.' Perhaps there was a comic +recitation, at which no one laughed, and finally we had wine and hot +water--they called it 'port negus'--and tongue sandwiches and caraway +cakes. My dear Ethel, I yawn now when I think of those dreary evenings. +What must Dora have felt, right out of the maelstrom of New York's +operas and theaters and dancing parties?" + +"Still, Dora ought to try to feel some interest in the church affairs. +She says she does not care a hairpin for them, and Basil feels so hurt." + +"I dare say he does, poor fellow! He thinks St. Jude's Kindergarten and +sewing circles and missionary societies are the only joys in the world. +Right enough for Basil, but how about Dora?" + +"They are his profession; she ought to feel an interest in them." + +"Come now, look at the question sensibly. Did Dora's father bring his +'deals' and stock-jobbery home, and expect Dora and her mother to feel +an interest in them? Do doctors tell their wives about their patients, +and expect them to pay sympathizing visits? Does your father expect Ruth +and yourself to listen to his cases and arguments, and visit his poor +clients or make underclothing for them? Do men, in general, consider it +a wife's place to interfere in their profession or business?" + +"Clergymen are different." + +"Not at all. Preaching and philanthropy is their business. They get so +much a year for doing it. I don't believe St. Jude's pays Mrs. Stanhope +a red cent. There now, and if she isn't paid, she's right not to work. +Amen to that!" + +"Before she was married Dora said she felt a great interest in church +work." + +"I dare say she did. Marriage makes a deal of difference in a woman's +likes and dislikes. Church work was courting-time before marriage; after +marriage she had other opportunities." + +"I think you might speak to Fred Mostyn----" + +"I might, but it wouldn't be worth while. Be true to your friend as long +as you can. In Yorkshire we stand by our friends, right or wrong, and +we aren't too particular as to their being right. My father enjoyed +justifying a man that everyone else was down on; and I've stood by many +a woman nobody had a good word for. I was never sorry for doing it, +either. I'll be going into a strange country soon, and I should not +wonder if some of them that have gone there first will be ready to stand +by me. We don't know what friends we'll be glad of there." + +The dinner bell broke up this conversation, and Ethel during it told +Madam about the cook and cooking at the Court and at Nicholas +Rawdon's, where John Thomas had installed a French chef. Other domestic +arrangements were discussed, and when the Judge called for his daughter +at four o'clock, Madam vowed "she had spent one of the happiest days of +her life." + +"Ruth tells me," said the Judge, "that Dora Stanhope called for Ethel +soon after she left home this morning. Ruth seems troubled at the +continuance of this friendship. Have you spoken to your grandmother, +Ethel, about Dora?" + +"She has told me all there is to tell, I dare say," answered Madam. + +"Well, mother, what do you think?" + +"I see no harm in it yet awhile. It is not fair, Edward, to condemn upon +likelihoods. We are no saints, sinful men and women, all of us, and as +much inclined to forbidden fruit as any good Christians can be. Ethel +can do as she feels about it; she's got a mind of her own, and I hope to +goodness she'll not let Ruth Bayard bit and bridle it." + +Going home the Judge evidently pondered this question, for he said after +a lengthy silence, "Grandmother's ethics do not always fit the social +ethics of this day, Ethel. She criticises people with her heart, not +her intellect. You must be prudent. There is a remarkable thing called +Respectability to be reckoned with remember that." + +And Ethel answered, "No one need worry about Dora. Some women may show +the edges of their character soiled and ragged, but Dora will be sure +to have hers reputably finished with a hem of the widest propriety." +And after a short silence the Judge added, almost in soliloquy, "And, +moreover, Ethel, + + "'There's a divinity that shapes our ends, + Rough-hew them how we will.'" + + + + + +PART FOURTH -- THE REAPING OF THE SOWING + + + +CHAPTER X + +WHEN Ethel and Tyrrel parted at the steamer they did not expect a long +separation, but Colonel Rawdon never recovered his health, and for many +excellent reasons Tyrrel could not leave the dying man. Nor did Ethel +wish him to do so. Under these circumstances began the second beautiful +phase of Ethel's wooing, a sweet, daily correspondence, the best of +all preparations for matrimonial oneness and understanding. Looking for +Tyrrel's letters, reading them, and answering them passed many happy +hours, for to both it was an absolute necessity to assure each other +constantly, + + "Since I wrote thee yester eve + I do love thee, Love, believe, + Twelve times dearer, twelve hours longer, + One dream deeper one night stronger, + One sun surer--this much more + Than I loved thee, dear, before." + +And for the rest, she took up her old life with a fresh enthusiasm. + +Among these interests none were more urgent in their claims than Dora +Stanhope; and fortified by her grandmother's opinion, Ethel went at once +to call on her. She found Basil with his wife, and his efforts to make +Ethel see how much he expected from her influence, and yet at the same +time not even hint a disapproval of Dora, were almost pathetic, for he +was so void of sophistry that his innuendoes were flagrantly open to +detection. Dora felt a contempt for them, and he had hardly left the +room ere she said: + +"Basil has gone to his vestry in high spirits. When I told him you were +coming to see me to-day he smiled like an angel. He believes you will +keep me out of mischief, and he feels a grand confidence in something +which he calls 'your influence.'" + +"What do you mean by mischief?" + +"Oh, I suppose going about with Fred Mostyn. I can't help that. I must +have some one to look after me. All the young men I used to know pass me +now with a lifted hat or a word or two. The girls have forgotten me. I +don't suppose I shall be asked to a single dance this winter." + +"The ladies in St. Jude's church would make a pet of you if----" + +"The old cats and kittens! No, thank you, I am not going to church +except on Sunday mornings--that is respectable and right; but as to +being the pet of St. Jude's ladies! No, no! How they would mew over my +delinquencies, and what scratches I should get from their velvet-shod +claws! If I have to be talked about, I prefer the ladies of the world to +discuss my frailties." + +"But if I were you, I would give no one a reason for saying a word +against me. Why should you?" + +"Fred will supply them with reasons. I can't keep the man away from me. +I don't believe I want to--he is very nice and useful." + +"You are talking nonsense, things you don't mean, Dora. You are not +such a foolish woman as to like to be seen with Fred Mostyn, that little +monocular snob, after the aristocratic, handsome Basil Stanhope. The +comparison is a mockery. Basil is the finest gentleman I ever saw. +Socially, he is perfection, and----" + +"He is only a clergyman." + +"Even as a clergyman he is of religiously royal descent. There are +generations of clergymen behind him, and he is a prince in the pulpit. +Every man that knows him gives him the highest respect, every woman +thinks you the most fortunate of wives. No one cares for Fred Mostyn. +Even in his native place he is held in contempt. He had nine hundred +votes to young Rawdon's twelve thousand." + +"I don't mind that. I am going to the matinee to-morrow with Fred. He +wanted to take me out in his auto this afternoon, but when I said I +would go if you would he drew back. What is the reason? Did he make you +offer of his hand? Did you refuse it?" + +"He never made me an offer. I count that to myself as a great +compliment. If he had done such a thing, he would certainly have been +refused." + +"I can tell that he really hates you. What dirty trick did you serve him +about Rawdon Court?" + +"So he called the release of Squire Rawdon a 'dirty trick'? It would +have been a very dirty trick to have let Fred Mostyn get his way with +Squire Rawdon." + +"Of course, Ethel, when a man lends his money as an obligation he +expects to get it back again." + +"Mostyn got every farthing due him, and he wanted one of the finest +manors in Eng-land in return for the obligation. He did not get it, +thank God and my father!" + +"He will not forget your father's interference." + +"I hope he will remember it." + +"Do you know who furnished the money to pay Fred? He says he is sure +your father did not have it." + +"Tell him to ask my father. He might even ask your father. Whether my +father had the money or not was immaterial. Father could borrow any sum +he wanted, I think." + +"Whom did he borrow from?" + +"I am sure that Fred told you to ask that question. Is he writing to +you, Dora?" + +"Suppose he is?" + +"I cannot suppose such a thing. It is too impossible." + +This was the beginning of a series of events all more or less qualified +to bring about unspeakable misery in Basil's home. But there is nothing +in life like the marriage tie. The tugs it will bear and not break, the +wrongs it will look over, the chronic misunderstandings it will forgive, +make it one of the mysteries of humanity. It was not in a day or a week +that Basil Stanhope's dream of love and home was shattered. Dora had +frequent and then less frequent times of return to her better self; and +every such time renewed her husband's hope that she was merely passing +through a period of transition and assimilation, and that in the end she +would be all his desire hoped for. + +But Ethel saw what he did not see, that Mostyn was gradually inspiring +her with his own opinions, perhaps even with his own passion. In +this emergency, however, she was gratified to find that Dora's mother +appeared to have grasped the situation. For if Dora went to the theater +with Mostyn, Mrs. Denning or Bryce was also there; and the reckless +auto driving, shopping, and lunching had at least a show of +respectable association. Yet when the opera season opened, the constant +companionship of Mostyn and Dora became entirely too remarkable, not +only in the public estimation, but in Basil's miserable conception of +his own wrong. The young husband used every art and persuasion--and +failed. And his failure was too apparent to be slighted. He became +feverish and nervous, and his friends read his misery in eyes heavy +with unshed tears, and in the wasting pallor caused by his sleepless, +sorrowful nights. + +Dora also showed signs of the change so rapidly working on her. She was +sullen and passionate by turns; she complained bitterly to Ethel that +her youth and beauty had been wasted; that she was only nineteen, and +her life was over. She wanted to go to Paris, to get away from New York +anywhere and anyhow. She began to dislike even the presence of Basil. +His stately beauty offended her, his low, calm voice was the very +keynote of irritation. + +One morning near Christmas he came to her with a smiling, radiant face. +"Dora," he said, "Dora, my love, I have something so interesting to +tell you. Mrs. Colby and Mrs. Schaffler and some other ladies have a +beautiful idea. They wish to give all the children of the church under +eight years old the grandest Christmas tree imaginable--really rich +presents and they thought you might like to have it here." + +"What do you say, Basil!" + +"You were always so fond of children. You----" + +"I never could endure them." + +"We all thought you might enjoy it. Indeed, I was so sure that I +promised for you. It will be such a pleasure to me also, dear." + +"I will have no such childish nonsense in my house." + +"I promised it, Dora." + +"You had no right to do so. This is my house. My father bought it and +gave me it, and it is my own. I----" + +"It seems, then, that I intrude in your house. Is it so? Speak, Dora." + +"If you will ask questions you must take the answer. You do intrude when +you come with such ridiculous proposals--in fact, you intrude very often +lately." + +"Does Mr. Mostyn intrude?" + +"Mr. Mostyn takes me out, gives me a little sensible pleasure. You think +I can be interested in a Christmas tree. The idea!" + +"Alas, alas, Dora, you are tired of me! You do not love me! You do not +love me!" + +"I love nobody. I am sorry I got married. It was all a mistake. I will +go home and then you can get a divorce." + +At this last word the whole man changed. He was suffused, transfigured +with an anger that was at once righteous and impetuous. + +"How dare you use that word to me?" he demanded. "To the priest of +God no such word exists. I do not know it. You are my wife, willing or +unwilling. You are my wife forever, whether you dwell with me or +not. You cannot sever bonds the Almighty has tied. You are mine, Dora +Stanhope! Mine for time and eternity! Mine forever and ever!" + +She looked at him in amazement, and saw a man after an image she had +never imagined. She was terrified. She flung herself on the sofa in +a whirlwind of passion. She cried aloud against his claim. She gave +herself up to a vehement rage that was strongly infused with a childish +dismay and panic. + +"I will not be your wife forever!" she shrieked. "I will never be your +wife again--never, not for one hour! Let me go! Take your hands off me!" +For Basil had knelt down by the distraught woman, and clasping her in +his arms said, even on her lips, "You ARE my dear wife! You are my very +own dear wife! Tell me what to do. Anything that is right, reasonable I +will do. We can never part." + +"I will go to my father. I will never come back to you." And with these +words she rose, threw off his embrace, and with a sobbing cry ran, like +a terrified child, out of the room. + +He sat down exhausted by his emotion, and sick with the thought she had +evoked in that one evil word. The publicity, the disgrace, the wrong +to Holy Church--ah, that was the cruelest wound! His own wrong was hard +enough, but that he, who would gladly die for the Church, should put +her to open shame! How could he bear it? Though it killed him, he must +prevent that wrong; yes, if the right eye offended it must be plucked +out. He must throw off his cassock, and turn away from the sacred +aisles; he must--he could not say the word; he would wait a little. Dora +would not leave him; it was impossible. He waited in a trance of aching +suspense. Nothing for an hour or more broke it--no footfall, no sound of +command or complaint. He was finally in hopes that Dora slept. Then he +was called to lunch, and he made a pretense of eating it alone. Dora +sent no excuse for her absence, and he could not trust himself to make +inquiry about her. In the middle of the afternoon he heard a carriage +drive to the door, and Dora, with her jewel-case in her hand, entered +it and was driven away. The sight astounded him. He ran to her room, and +found her maid packing her clothing. The woman answered his questions +sullenly. She said "Mrs. Stanhope had gone to Mrs. Denning's, and had +left orders for her trunks to be sent there." Beyond this she was silent +and ignorant. No sympathy for either husband or wife was in her heart. +Their quarrel was interfering with her own plans; she hated both of them +in consequence. + +In the meantime Dora had reached her home. Her mother was dismayed and +hesitating, and her attitude raised again in Dora's heart the passion +which had provoked the step she had taken. She wept like a lost child. +She exclaimed against the horror of being Basil's wife forever and ever. +She reproached her mother for suffering her to marry while she was only +a child. She said she had been cruelly used in order to get the family +into social recognition. She was in a frenzy of grief at her supposed +sacrifice when her father came home. Her case was then won. With her +arms round his neck, sobbing against his heart, her tears and entreaties +on his lips, Ben Denning had no feeling and no care for anyone but his +daughter. He took her view of things at once. "She HAD been badly used. +It WAS a shame to tie a girl like Dora to sermons and such like. It was +like shutting her up in a convent." Dora's tears and complaints fired +him beyond reason. He promised her freedom whatever it cost him. + +And while he sat in his private room considering the case, all the +racial passions of his rough ancestry burning within him, Basil Stanhope +called to see him. He permitted him to come into his presence, but he +rose as he entered, and walked hastily a few steps to meet him. + +"What do you want here, sir?" he asked. + +"My wife." + +"My daughter. You shall not see her. I have taken her back to my own +care." + +"She is my wife. No one can take her from me." + +"I will teach you a different lesson." + +"The law of God." + +"The law of the land goes here. You'll find it more than you can defy." + +"Sir, I entreat you to let me speak to Dora." + +"I will not." + +"I will stay here until I see her." + +"I will give you five minutes. I do not wish to offer your profession an +insult; if you have any respect for it you will obey me." + +"Answer me one question--what have I done wrong?" + +"A man can be so intolerably right, that he becomes unbearably wrong. +You have no business with a wife and a home. You are a d---- sight too +good for a good little girl that wants a bit of innocent amusement. +Sermons and Christmas trees! Great Scott, what sensible woman would not +be sick of it all? Sir, I don't want another minute of your company. +Little wonder that my Dora is ill with it. Oblige me by leaving my house +as quietly as possible." And he walked to the door, flung it open, and +stood glaring at the distracted husband. "Go," he said. "Go at once. +My lawyer will see you in the future. I have nothing further to say to +you." + +Basil went, but not to his desolate home. He had a private key to the +vestry in his church, and in its darkness and solitude he faced the +first shock of his ruined life, for he knew well all was over. All had +been. He sank to the floor at the foot of the large cross which hung on +its bare white walls. Grief's illimitable wave went over him, and like a +drowning man he uttered an inarticulate cry of agony--the cry of a soul +that had wronged its destiny. Love had betrayed him to ruin. All he had +done must be abandoned. All he had won must be given up. Sin and shame +indeed it would be if in his person a sacrament of the Church should be +dragged through a divorce court. All other considerations paled before +this disgrace. He must resign his curacy, strip himself of the honorable +livery of heaven, obliterate his person and his name. It was a kind of +death. + +After awhile he rose, drank some water, lifted the shade and let the +moonlight in. Then about that little room he walked with God through the +long night, telling Him his sorrow and perplexity. And there is a depth +in our own nature where the divine and human are one. That night Basil +Stanhope found it, and henceforward knew that the bitterness of death +was behind him, not before. "I made my nest too dear on earth," he +sighed, "and it has been swept bare--that is, that I may build in +heaven." + +Now, the revelation of sorrow is the clearest of all revelations. +Stanhope understood that hour what he must do. No doubts weakened his +course. He went back to the house Dora called "hers," took away what he +valued, and while the servants were eating their breakfast and talking +over his marital troubles, he passed across its threshold for the last +time. He told no one where he was going; he dropped as silently and +dumbly out of the life that had known him as a stone dropped into +mid-ocean. + +Ethel considered herself fortunate in being from home at the time this +disastrous culmination of Basil Stanhope's married life was reached. On +that same morning the Judge, accompanied by Ruth and herself, had gone +to Lenox to spend the holidays with some old friends, and she was quite +ignorant of the matter when she returned after the New Year. Bryce was +her first informant. He called specially to give her the news. He said +his sister had been too ill and too busy to write. He had no word of +sympathy for the unhappy pair. He spoke only of the anxiety it had +caused him. "He was now engaged," he said, "to Miss Caldwell, and she +was such an extremely proper, innocent lady, and a member of St. Jude's, +it had really been a trying time for her." Bryce also reminded Ethel +that he had been against Basil Stanhope from the first. "He had always +known how that marriage would end," and so on. + +Ethel declined to give any opinion. "She must hear both sides," she +said. "Dora had been so reasonable lately, she had appeared happy." + +"Oh, Dora is a little fox," he replied; "she doubles on herself always." + +Ruth was properly regretful. She wondered "if any married woman was +really happy." She did not apparently concern herself about Basil. The +Judge rather leaned to Basil's consideration. He understood that Dora's +overt act had shattered his professional career as well as his personal +happiness. He could feel for the man there. "My dears," he said, with +his dilettante air, "the goddess Calamity is delicate, and her feet +are tender. She treads not upon the ground, but makes her path upon the +hearts of men." In this non-committal way he gave his comment, for he +usually found a bit of classical wisdom to fit modern emergencies, and +the habit had imparted an antique bon-ton to his conversation. Ethel +could only wonder at the lack of real sympathy. + +In the morning she went to see her grandmother. The old lady had "heard" +all she wanted to hear about Dora and Basil Stanhope. If men would +marry a fool because she was young and pretty, they must take the +consequences. "And why should Stanhope have married at all?" she asked +indignantly. "No man can serve God and a woman at the same time. He +had to be a bad priest and a good husband, or a bad husband and a good +priest. Basil Stanhope was honored, was doing good, and he must needs be +happy also. He wanted too much, and lost everything. Serve him right." + +"All can now find some fault in poor Basil Stanhope," said Ethel. +"Bryce was bitter against him because Miss Caldwell shivers at the word +'divorce.'" + +"What has Bryce to do with Jane Caldwell?" + +"He is going to marry her, he says." + +"Like enough; she's a merry miss of two-score, and rich. Bryce's +marriage with anyone will be a well-considered affair--a marriage with +all the advantages of a good bargain. I'm tired of the whole subject. +If women will marry they should be as patient as Griselda, in case there +ever was such a woman; if not, there's an end of the matter." + +"There are no Griseldas in this century, grandmother." + +"Then there ought to be no marriages. Basil Stanhope was a grand man in +public. What kind of a man was he in his home? Measure a man by his +home conduct, and you'll not go wrong. It's the right place to draw your +picture of him, I can tell you that." + +"He has no home now, poor fellow." + +"Whose fault was it? God only knows. Where is his wife?" + +"She has gone to Paris." + +"She has gone to the right place if she wants to play the fool. But +there, now, God forbid I should judge her in the dark. Women should +stand by women--considering." + +"Considering?" + +"What they may have to put up with. It is easy to see faults in others. +I have sometimes met with people who should see faults in themselves. +They are rather uncommon, though." + +"I am sure Basil Stanhope will be miserable all his life. He will break +his heart, I do believe." + +"Not so. A good heart is hard to break, it grows strong in trouble. +Basil Stanhope's body will fail long before his heart does; and even so +an end must come to life, and after that peace or what God wills." + +This scant sympathy Ethel found to be the usual tone among her +acquaintances. St. Jude's got a new rector and a new idol, and the +Stanhope affair was relegated to the limbo of things "it was proper to +forget." + +So the weeks of the long winter went by, and Ethel in the joy and hope +of her own love-life naturally put out of her mind the sorrow of lives +she could no longer help or influence. Indeed, as to Dora, there were +frequent reports of her marvelous social success in Paris; and Ethel +did not doubt Stanhope had found some everlasting gospel of holy work to +comfort his desolation. And then also + + "Each day brings its petty dust, + Our soon-choked souls to fill; + And we forget because we must, + And not because we will." + + +One evening when May with heavy clouds and slant rains was making the +city as miserable as possible, Ethel had a caller. His card bore a name +quite unknown, and his appearance gave no clew to his identity. + +"Mr. Edmonds?" she said interrogatively. + +"Are you Miss Ethel Rawdon?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Mr. Basil Stanhope told me to put this parcel in your hands." + +"Oh, Mr. Stanhope! I am glad to hear from him. Where is he now?" + +"We buried him yesterday. He died last Sunday as the bells were ringing +for church--pneumonia, miss. While reading the ser-vice over a poor +young man he had nursed many weeks he took cold. The poor will miss him +sorely." + +"DEAD!" She looked aghast at the speaker, and again ejaculated the +pitiful, astounding word. + +"Good evening, miss. I promised him to return at once to the work he +left me to do." And he quietly departed, leaving Ethel standing with the +parcel in her hands. She ran upstairs and locked it away. Just then she +could not bear to open it. + +"And it is hardly twelve months since he was married," she sobbed. "Oh, +Ruth, Ruth, it is too cruel!" + +"Dear," answered Ruth, "there is no death to such a man as Basil +Stanhope." + +"He was so young, Ruth." + +"I know. 'His high-born brothers called him hence' at the age of +twenty-nine, but + + "'It is not growing like a tree, + In bulk, doth make men better be; + Or standing like an oak three hundred year, + To fall at last, dry, bald and sear: + A lily of a day + Is fairer far in May; + Although it fall and die that night, + It was the plant and flower of light.'" + + +At these words the Judge put down his Review to listen to Ethel's story, +and when she ceased speaking he had gone far further back than any +antique classic for compensation and satisfaction: + +"He being made perfect in a short time fulfilled a long time. For his +soul pleased the Lord, therefore hasted He to take him away from among +the wicked." [2] And that evening there was little conversation. Every +heart was busy with its own thoughts. + +[Footnote 2: Wisdom of Solomon, IV., 13, 14.] + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +TRADE and commerce have their heroes as well as arms, and the struggle +in which Tyrrel Rawdon at last plucked victory from apparent failure was +as arduous a campaign as any military operations could have afforded. It +had entailed on him a ceaseless, undaunted watch over antagonists rich +and powerful; and a fight for rights which contained not only his own +fortune, but the honor of his father, so that to give up a fraction of +them was to turn traitor to the memory of a parent whom he believed +to be beyond all doubt or reproach. Money, political power, civic +influence, treachery, bribery, the law's delay and many other +hindrances met him on every side, but his heart was encouraged daily to +perseverance by love's tenderest sympathy. For he told Ethel everything, +and received both from her fine intuitions and her father's legal skill +priceless comfort and advice. But at last the long trial was over, the +marriage day was set, and Tyrrel, with all his rights conceded, was +honorably free to seek the happiness he had safeguarded on every side. + +It was a lovely day in the beginning of May, nearly two years after +their first meeting, when Tyrrel reached New York. Ethel knew at what +hour his train would arrive, she was watching and listening for his +step. They met in each other's arms, and the blessed hours of that happy +evening were an over-payment of delight for the long months of their +separation. + +In the morning Ethel was to introduce her lover to Madam Rawdon, and +side by side, almost hand in hand, they walked down the avenue together. +Walked? They were so happy they hardly knew whether their feet touched +earth or not. They had a constant inclination to clasp hands, to run as +little children run; They wished to smile at everyone, to bid all the +world good morning. Madam had resolved to be cool and careful in her +advances, but she quickly found herself unable to resist the sight of +so much love and hope and happiness. The young people together took her +heart by storm, and she felt herself compelled to express an interest in +their future, and to question Tyrrel about it. + +"What are you going to do with yourself or make of yourself?" she asked +Tyrrel one evening when they were sitting together. "I do hope you'll +find some kind of work. Anything is better than loafing about clubs and +such like places." + +"I am going to study law with Judge Rawdon. My late experience has +taught me its value. I do not think I shall loaf in his office." + +"Not if he is anywhere around. He works and makes others work. Lawyering +is a queer business, but men can be honest in it if they want to." + +"And, grandmother," said Ethel, "my father says Tyrrel has a wonderful +gift for public speaking. He made a fine speech at father's club last +night. Tyrrel will go into politics." + +"Will he, indeed? Tyrrel is a wonder. If he manages to walk his shoes +straight in the zigzaggery ways of the law, he will be one of that grand +breed called 'exceptions.' As for politics, I don't like them, far from +it. Your grandfather used to say they either found a man a rascal or +made him one. However, I'm ready to compromise on law and politics. I +was afraid with his grand voice he would set up for a tenor." + +Tyrrel laughed. "I did once think of that role," he said. + +"I fancied that. Whoever taught you to use your voice knew a thing or +two about singing. I'll say that much." + +"My mother taught me." + +"Never! I wonder now!" + +"She was a famous singer. She was a great and a good woman. I owe her +for every excellent quality there is in me." + +"No, you don't. You have got your black eyes and hair her way, +I'll warrant that, but your solid make-up, your pluck and grit and +perseverance is the Rawdon in you. Without Rawdon you would very +likely now be strutting about some opera stage, playing at kings and +lovemaking." + +"As it is----" + +"As it is, you will be lord consort of Rawdon Manor, with a silver mine +to back you." + +"I am sorry about the Manor," said Tyrrel. "I wish the dear old Squire +were alive to meet Ethel and myself." + +"To be sure you do. But I dare say that he is glad now to have passed +out of it. Death is a mystery to those left, but I have no doubt it +is satisfying to those who have gone away. He died as he lived, very +properly; walked in the garden that morning as far as the strawberry +beds, and the gardener gave him the first ripe half-dozen in a young +cabbage leaf, and he ate them like a boy, and said they tasted as +if grown in Paradise, then strolled home and asked Joel to shake the +pillows on the sofa in the hall, laid himself down, shuffled his head +easy among them, and fell on sleep. So Death the Deliverer found him. A +good going home! Nothing to fear in it." + +"Ethel tells me that Mr. Mostyn is now living at Mostyn Hall." + +"Yes, he married that girl he would have sold his soul for and took her +there, four months only after her husband's death. When I was young he +durst not have done it, the Yorkshire gentry would have cut them both." + +"I think," said Tyrrel, "American gentlemen of to-day felt much the +same. Will Madison told me that the club cut him as soon as Mrs. +Stanhope left her husband. He went there one day after it was known, and +no one saw him; finally he walked up to McLean, and would have sat down, +but McLean said, 'Your company is not desired, Mr. Mostyn.' Mostyn said +something in re-ply, and McLean answered sternly, 'True, we are none +of us saints, but there are lines the worst of us will not pass; and +if there is any member of this club willing to interfere between a +bridegroom and his bride, I would like to kick him out of it.' +Mostyn struck the table with some exclamation, and McLean continued, +'Especially when the wronged husband is a gentleman of such stainless +character and unsuspecting nature as Basil Stanhope--a clergyman also! +Oh, the thing is beyond palliation entirely!' And he walked away and +left Mostyn." + +"Well," said Madam, "if it came to kicking, two could play that game. +Fred is no coward. I don't want to hear another word about them. They +will punish each other without our help. Let them alone. I hope you are +not going to have a crowd at your wedding. The quietest weddings are the +luckiest ones." + +"About twenty of our most intimate friends are invited to the church," +said Ethel. "There will be no reception until we return to New York in +the fall." + +"No need of fuss here, there will be enough when you reach Monk-Rawdon. +The village will be garlanded and flagged, the bells ring-ing, and all +your tenants and retainers out to meet you." + +"We intend to get into our own home without anyone being aware of it. +Come, Tyrrel, my dressmaker is waiting, I know. It is my wedding gown, +dear Granny, and oh, so lovely!" + +"You will not be any smarter than I intend to be, miss. You are shut off +from color. I can outdo you." + +"I am sure you can--and will. Here comes father. What can he want?" They +met him at the door, and with a few laughing words left him with Madam. +She looked curiously into his face and asked, "What is it, Edward?" + +"I suppose they have told you all the arrangements. They are very +simple. Did they say anything about Ruth?" + +"They never named her. They said they were going to Washington for a +week, and then to Rawdon Court. Ruth seems out of it all. Are you going +to turn her adrift, or present her with a few thousand dollars? She has +been a mother to Ethel. Something ought to be done for Ruth Bayard." + +"I intend to marry her." + +"I thought so." + +"She will go to her sister's in Philadelphia for a month 's preparation. +I shall marry her there, and bring her home as my wife. She is a sweet, +gentle, docile woman. She will make me happy." + +"Sweet, gentle, docile! Yes, that is the style of wife Rawdon men +prefer. What does Ethel say?" + +"She is delighted. It was her idea. I was much pleased with her +thoughtfulness. Any serious break in my life would now be a great +discomfort. You need not look so satirical, mother; I thought of Ruth's +life also." + +"Also an afterthought; but Ruth is gentle and docile, and she is +satisfied, and I am satisfied, so then everything is proper and everyone +content. Come for me at ten on Wednesday morning. I shall be ready. No +refreshments, I suppose. I must look after my own breakfast. Won't you +feel a bit shabby, Edward?" And then the look and handclasp between them +turned every word into sweetness and good-will. + +And as Ethel regarded her marriage rather as a religious rite than +a social function, she objected to its details becoming in any sense +public, and her desires were to be regarded. Yet everyone may imagine +the white loveliness of the bride, the joy of the bridegroom, the +calm happiness of the family breakfast, and the leisurely, quiet +leave-taking. The whole ceremony was the right note struck at the +beginning of a new life, and they might justly expect it would move +onward in melodious sequence. + + +Within three weeks after their marriage they arrived at Rawdon Court. It +was on a day and at an hour when no one was looking for them, and +they stepped into the lovely home waiting for them without outside +observation. Hiring a carriage at the railway station, they dismissed it +at the little bridge near the Manor House, and sauntered happily through +the intervening space. The door of the great hall stood open, and the +fire, which had been burning on its big hearth unquenched for more +than three hundred years, was blazing merrily, as if some hand had just +replenished it. On the long table the broad, white beaver hat of the +dead Squire was lying, and his oak walking stick was beside it. No one +had liked to remove them. They remained just as he had put them down, +that last, peaceful morning of his life. + +In a few minutes the whole household was aware of their home-coming, and +before the day was over the whole neighborhood. Then there was no way +of avoiding the calls, the congratulations, and the entertainments +that followed, and the old Court was once more the center of a splendid +hospitality. Of course the Tyrrel-Rawdons were first on the scene, and +Ethel was genuinely glad to meet again the good-natured Mrs. Nicholas. +No one could give her better local advice, and Ethel quickly discovered +that the best general social laws require a local interpretation. Her +hands were full, her heart full, she had so many interests to share, so +many people to receive and to visit, and yet when two weeks passed and +Dora neither came nor wrote she was worried and dissatisfied. + +"Are the Mostyns at the Hall?" she asked Mrs. Nicholas at last. "I have +been expecting Mrs. Mostyn every day, but she neither comes nor writes +to me." + +"I dare say not. Poor little woman! I'll warrant she has been forbid to +do either. If Mostyn thought she wanted to see you, he would watch day +and night to prevent her coming. He's turning out as cruel a man as his +father was, and you need not say a word worse than that." + +"Cruel! Oh, dear, how dreadful! Men will drink and cheat and swear, but +a cruel man seems so unnatural, so wicked." + +"To be sure, cruelty is the joy of devils. As I said to John Thomas when +we heard about Mostyn's goings-on, we have got rid of the Wicked One, +but the wicked still remain with us." + +This conversation having been opened, was naturally prolonged by the +relation of incidents which had come through various sources to Mrs. +Rawdon's ears, all of them indicating an almost incredible system of +petty tyranny and cruel contradiction. Ethel was amazed, and finally +angry at what she heard. Dora was her countrywoman and her friend; +she instantly began to express her sympathy and her intention of +interfering. + +"You had better neither meddle nor make in the matter," answered Mrs. +Rawdon. "Our Lucy went to see her, and gave her some advice about +managing Yorkshiremen. And as she was talking Mostyn came in, and was as +rude as he dared to be. Then Lucy asked him 'if he was sick.' She said, +'All the men in the neighborhood, gentle and simple, were talking about +him, and that it wasn't a pleasant thing to be talked about in the +way they were doing it. You must begin to look more like yourself, Mr. +Mostyn; it is good advice I am giving you,' she added; and Mostyn told +her he would look as he felt, whether it was liked or not liked. +And Lucy laughed, and said, 'In that case he would have to go to his +looking-glass for company.' Well, Ethel, there was a time to joy a +devil after Lucy left, and some one of the servants went on their own +responsibility for a doctor; and Mostyn ordered him out of the house, +and he would not go until he saw Mrs. Mostyn; and the little woman was +forced to come and say 'she was quite well,' though she was sobbing all +the time she spoke. Then the doctor told Mostyn what he thought, and +there is a quarrel between them every time they meet." + +But Ethel was not deterred by these statements; on the contrary, they +stimulated her interest in her friend. Dora needed her, and the old +feeling of protection stirred her to interference. At any rate, she +could call and see the unhappy woman; and though Tyrrel was opposed to +the visit, and thought it every way unwise, Ethel was resolved to +make it. "You can drive me there," she said, "then go and see Justice +Manningham and call for me in half an hour." And this resolution was +strengthened by a pitiful little note received from Dora just after her +decision. "Mostyn has gone to Thirsk," it said; "for pity's sake come +and see me about two o'clock this afternoon." + +The request was promptly answered. As the clock struck two Ethel crossed +the threshold of the home that might have been hers. She shuddered at +the thought. The atmosphere of the house was full of fear and gloom, the +furniture dark and shabby, and she fancied the wraiths of old forgotten +crimes and sorrows were gliding about the sad, dim rooms and stairways. +Dora rose in a passion of tears to welcome her, and because time was +short instantly began her pitiful story. + +"You know how he adored me once," she said; "would you believe it, +Ethel, we were not two weeks married when he began to hate me. He +dragged me through Europe in blazing heat and blinding snows when I was +sick and unfit to move. He brought me here in the depth of winter, and +when no one called on us he blamed me; and from morning till night, and +sometimes all night long, he taunts and torments me. After he heard that +you had bought the Manor he lost all control of himself. He will not let +me sleep. He walks the floor hour after hour, declaring he could have +had you and the finest manor in England but for a cat-faced woman +like me. And he blames me for poor Basil's death--says we murdered +him together, and that he sees blood on my hands." And she looked with +terror at her small, thin hands, and held them up as if to protest +against the charge. When she next spoke it was to sob out, "Poor Basil! +He would pity me! He would help me! He would forgive me! He knows now +that Mostyn was, and is, my evil genius." + +"Do not cry so bitterly, Dora, it hurts me. Let us think. Is there +nothing you can do?" + +"I want to go to mother." Then she drew Ethel's head close to her and +whispered a few words, and Ethel answered, "You poor little one, you +shall go to your mother. Where is she?" + +"She will be in London next week, and I must see her. He will not let me +go, but go I must if I die for it. Mrs. John Thomas Rawdon told me what +to do, and I have been following her advice." + +Ethel did not ask what it was, but added, + +"If Tyrrel and I can help you, send for us. We will come. And, Dora, +do stop weeping, and be brave. Remember you are an American woman. Your +father has often told me how you could ride with Indians or cowboys +and shoot with any miner in Colorado. A bully like Mostyn is always a +coward. Lift up your heart and stand for every one of your rights. You +will find plenty of friends to stand with you." And with the words she +took her by the hands and raised her to her feet, and looked at her +with such a beaming, courageous smile that Dora caught its spirit, and +promised to insist on her claims for rest and sleep. + +"When shall I come again, Dora?" + +"Not till I send for you. Mother will be in London next Wednesday at +the Savoy. I intend to leave here Wednesday some time, and may need you; +will you come?" + +"Surely, both Tyrrel and I." + +Then the time being on a dangerous line they parted. But Ethel could +think of nothing and talk of nothing but the frightful change in her +friend, and the unceasing misery which had produced it. Tyrrel shared +all her indignation. The slow torture of any creature was an intolerable +crime in his eyes, but when the brutality was exercised on a woman, and +on a countrywoman, he was roused to the highest pitch of indignation. +When Wednesday arrived he did not leave the house, but waited with +Ethel for the message they confidently expected. It came about five +o'clock--urgent, imperative, entreating, "Come, for God's sake! He will +kill me." + +The carriage was ready, and in half an hour they were at Mostyn Hall. No +one answered their summons, but as they stood listening and waiting, +a shrill cry of pain and anger pierced the silence. It was followed by +loud voices and a confused noise--noise of many talking and exclaiming. +Then Tyrrel no longer hesitated. He opened the door easily, and taking +Ethel on his arm, suddenly entered the parlor from which the clamor +came. Dora stood in the center of the room like an enraged pythoness, +her eyes blazing with passion. + +"See!" she cried as Tyrrel entered the room--"see!" And she held out +her arm, and pointed to her shoulder from which the lace hung in shreds, +showing the white flesh, red and bruised, where Mostyn had gripped her. +Then Tyrrel turned to Mostyn, who was held tightly in the grasp of +his gardener and coachman, and foaming with a rage that rendered his +explanation almost inarticulate, especially as the three women servants +gathered around their mistress added their railing and invectives to the +general confusion. + +"The witch! The cat-faced woman!" he screamed. "She wants to go to her +mother! Wants to play the trick she killed Basil Stanhope with! She +shall not! She shall not! I will kill her first! She is mad! I will +send her to an asylum! She is a little devil! I will send her to hell! +Nothing is bad enough--nothing----" + +"Mr. Mostyn," said Tyrrel. + +"Out of my house! What are you doing here? Away! This is my house! Out +of it immediately!" + +"This man is insane," said Tyrrel to Dora. "Put on your hat and cloak, +and come home with us." + +"I am waiting for Justice Manningham," she answered with a calm +subsidence of passion that angered Mostyn more than her reproaches. +"I have sent for him. He will be here in five minutes now. That +brute"--pointing to Mostyn--"must be kept under guard till I reach my +mother. The magistrate will bring a couple of constables with him." + +"This is a plot, then! You hear it! You! You, Tyrrel Rawdon, and you, +Saint Ethel, are in it, all here on time. A plot, I say! Let me loose +that I may strangle the cat-faced creature. Look at her hands, they are +already bloody!" + +At these words Dora began to sob passionately, the servants, one and +all, to comfort her, or to abuse Mostyn, and in the height of the hubbub +Justice Manningham entered with two constables behind him. + +"Take charge of Mr. Mostyn," he said to them, and as they laid their big +hands on his shoulders the Justice added, "You will consider yourself +under arrest, Mr. Mostyn." + +And when nothing else could cow Mostyn, he was cowed by the law. He +sank almost fainting into his chair, and the Justice listened to Dora's +story, and looked indignantly at the brutal man, when she showed him her +torn dress and bruised shoulder. "I entreat your Honor," she said, "to +permit me to go to my mother who is now in London." And he answered +kindly, "You shall go. You are in a condition only a mother can help and +comfort. As soon as I have taken your deposition you shall go." + +No one paid any attention to Mostyn's disclaimers and denials. The +Justice saw the state of affairs. Squire Rawdon and Mrs. Rawdon +testified to Dora's ill-usage; the butler, the coachman, the stablemen, +the cook, the housemaids were all eager to bear witness to the same; and +Mrs. Mostyn's appearance was too eloquent a plea for any humane man to +deny her the mother-help she asked for. + +Though neighbors and members of the same hunt and clubs, the Justice +took no more friendly notice of Mostyn than he would have taken of any +wife-beating cotton-weaver; and when all lawful preliminaries had been +arranged, he told Mrs. Mostyn that he should not take up Mr. Mostyn's +case till Friday; and in the interval she would have time to put herself +under her mother's care. She thanked him, weeping, and in her old, +pretty way kissed his hands, and "vowed he had saved her life, and +she would forever remember his goodness." Mostyn mocked at her +"play-acting," and was sternly reproved by the Justice; and then Tyrrel +and Ethel took charge of Mrs. Mostyn until she was ready to leave for +London. + +She was more nearly ready than they expected. All her trunks were +packed, and the butler promised to take them immediately to the railway +station. In a quarter of an hour she appeared in traveling costume, with +her jewels in a bag, which she carried in her hand. There was a train +for London passing Monk-Rawdon at eight o'clock; and after Justice +Manningham had left, the cook brought in some dinner, which Dora asked +the Rawdons to share with her. It was, perhaps, a necessary but a +painful meal. No one noticed Mostyn. He was enforced to sit still and +watch its progress, which he accompanied with curses it would be a kind +of sacrilege to write down. But no one answered him, and no one noticed +the orders he gave for his own dinner, until Dora rose to leave forever +the house of bondage. Then she said to the cook: + +"See that those gentlemanly constables have something good to eat and to +drink, and when they have been served you may give that man"--pointing +to Mostyn--"the dinner of bread and water he has so often prescribed +for me. After my train leaves you are all free to go to your own homes. +Farewell, friends!" + +Then Mostyn raved again, and finally tried his old loving terms. "Come +back to me, Dora," he called frantically. "Come back, dearest, sweetest +Dora, I will be your lover forever. I will never say another cross word +to you." + +But Dora heard not and saw not. She left the room without a glance at +the man sitting cowering between the officers, and blubbering with shame +and passion and the sense of total loss. In a few minutes he heard the +Rawdon carriage drive to the door. Tyrrel and Ethel assisted Dora into +it, and the party drove at once to the railway station. They were just +able to catch the London train. The butler came up to report all the +trunks safely forwarded, and Dora dropped gold into his hand, and +bade him clear the house of servants as soon as the morning broke. +Fortunately there was no time for last words and promises; the train +began to move, and Tyrrel and Ethel, after watching Dora's white face +glide into the darkness, turned silently away. That depression which +so often follows the lifting of burdens not intended for our shoulders +weighed on their hearts and made speech difficult. Tyrrel was especially +affected by it. A quick feeling of something like sympathy for Mostyn +would not be reasoned away, and he drew Ethel close within his arm, and +gave the coachman an order to drive home as quickly as possible, for +twilight was already becoming night, and under the trees the darkness +felt oppressive. + +The little fire on the hearth and their belated dinner somewhat relieved +the tension; but it was not until they had retired to a small parlor, +and Tyrrel had smoked a cigar, that the tragedy of the evening became a +possible topic of conversation. Tyrrel opened the subject by a question +as to whether "he ought to have gone with Dora to London." + +"Dora opposed the idea strongly when I named it to her," answered Ethel. +"She said it would give opportunities for Mostyn to slander both herself +and you, and I think she was correct. Every way she was best alone." + +"Perhaps, but I feel as if I ought to have gone, as if I had been +something less than a gentleman; in fact, as if I had been very +un-gentle." + +"There is no need," answered Ethel a little coldly. + +"It is a terrible position for Mostyn." + +"He deserves it." + +"He is so sensitive about public opinion." + +"In that case he should behave decently in private." + +Then Tyrrel lit another cigar, and there was another silence, which +Ethel occupied in irritating thoughts of Dora's unfortunate fatality in +trouble-making. She sat at a little table standing between herself and +Tyrrel. It held his smoking utensils, and after awhile she pushed them +aside, and let the splendid rings which adorned her hand fall into the +cleared space. Tyrrel watched her a few moments, and then asked, "What +are you doing, Ethel, my dear?" + +She looked up with a smile, and then down at the hand she had laid open +upon the table. "I am looking at the Ring of all Rings. See, Tyrrel, it +is but a little band of gold, and yet it gave me more than all the gems +of earth could buy. Rubies and opals and sapphires are only its guard. +The simple wedding ring is the ring of great price. It is the loveliest +ornament a happy woman can wear." + +Tyrrel took her hand and kissed it, and kissed the golden band, and then +answered, "Truly an ornament if a happy wife wears it; but oh, Ethel, +what is it when it binds a woman to such misery as Dora has just fled +from?" + +"Then it is a fetter, and a woman who has a particle of self-respect +will break it. The Ring of all Rings!" she ejaculated again, as she +lifted the rubies and opals, and slowly but smilingly encircled the +little gold band. + +"Let us try now to forget that sorrowful woman," said Tyrrel. "She will +be with her mother in a few hours. Mother-love can cure all griefs. It +never fails. It never blames. It never grows weary. It is always young +and warm and true. Dora will be comforted. Let us forget; we can do no +more." + +For a couple of days this was possible, but then came Mrs. Nicholas +Rawdon, and the subject was perforce opened. "It was a bad case," she +said, "but it is being settled as quickly and as quietly as possible. I +believe the man has entered into some sort of recognizance to keep the +peace, and has disappeared. No one will look for him. The gentry are +against pulling one another down in any way, and this affair they +don't want talked about. Being all of them married men, it isn't to be +expected, is it? Justice Manningham was very sorry for the little +lady, but he said also 'it was a bad precedent, and ought not to be +discussed.' And Squire Bentley said, 'If English gentlemen would marry +American women, they must put up with American women's ways,' and so on. +None of them think it prudent to approve Mrs. Mostyn's course. But they +won't get off as easy as they think. The women are standing up for her. +Did you ever hear anything like that? And I'll warrant some husbands are +none so easy in their minds, as my Nicholas said, 'Mrs. Mostyn had sown +seed that would be seen and heard tell of for many a long day.' Our +Lucy, I suspect, had more to do with the move than she will confess. She +got a lot of new, queer notions at college, and I do believe in my heart +she set the poor woman up to the business. John Thomas, of course, says +not a word, but he looks at Lucy in a very proud kind of way; and I'll +be bound he has got an object lesson he'll remember as long as he lives. +So has Nicholas, though he bluffs more than a little as to what he'd +do with a wife that got a running-away notion into her head. Bless you, +dear, they are all formulating their laws on the subject, and their +wives are smiling queerly at them, and holding their heads a bit higher +than usual. I've been doing it myself, so I know how they feel." + +Thus, though very little was said in the newspapers about the affair, +the notoriety Mostyn dreaded was complete and thorough. It was the +private topic of conversation in every household. Men talked it over in +all the places where men met, and women hired the old Mostyn servants in +order to get the very surest and latest story of the poor wife's wrongs, +and then compared reports and even discussed the circumstances in their +own particular clubs. + +At the Court, Tyrrel and Ethel tried to forget, and their own interests +were so many and so important that they usually succeeded; especially +after a few lines from Mrs. Denning assured them of Dora's safety and +comfort. And for many weeks the busy life of the Manor sufficed; there +was the hay to cut in the meadow lands, and after it the wheat fields +to harvest. The stables, the kennels, the farms and timber, the park and +the garden kept Tyrrel constantly busy. And to these duties were added +the social ones, the dining and dancing and entertaining, the horse +racing, the regattas, and the enthusiasm which automobiling in its first +fever engenders. + +And yet there were times when Tyrrel looked bored, and when nothing but +Squire Percival's organ or Ethel's piano seemed to exorcise the unrest +and ennui that could not be hid. Ethel watched these moods with a +wise and kind curiosity, and in the beginning of September, when they +perceptibly increased, she asked one day, "Are you happy, Tyrrel? Quite +happy?" + +"I am having a splendid holiday," he answered, "but----" + +"But what, dear?" + +"One could not turn life into a long holiday--that would be harder than +the hardest work." + +She answered "Yes," and as soon as she was alone fell to thinking, and +in the midst of her meditation Mrs. Nicholas Rawdon entered in a whirl +of tempestuous delight. + +"What do you think?" she asked between laughing and crying. "Whatever do +you think? Our Lucy had twins yesterday, two fine boys as ever was. And +I wish you could see their grandfather and their father. They are out of +themselves with joy. They stand hour after hour beside the two cradles, +looking at the little fellows, and they nearly came to words this +morning about their names." + +"I am so delighted!" cried Ethel. "And what are you going to call them?" + +"One is an hour older than the other, and John Thomas wanted them called +Percival and Nicholas. But my Nicholas wanted the eldest called after +himself, and he said so plain enough. And John Thomas said 'he could +surely name his own sons; and then Nicholas told him to remember he +wouldn't have been here to have any sons at all but for his father.' And +just then I came into the room to have a look at the little lads, and +when I heard what they were fratching about, I told them it was none of +their business, that Lucy had the right to name the children, and they +would just have to put up with the names she gave them." + +"And has Lucy named them?" + +"To be sure. I went right away to her and explained the dilemma, and +I said, 'Now, Lucy, it is your place to settle this question.' And she +answered in her positive little way, 'You tell father the eldest is to +be called Nicholas, and tell John Thomas the youngest is to be called +John Thomas. I can manage two of that name very well. And say that +I won't have any more disputing about names, the boys are as good as +christened already.' And of course when Lucy said that we all knew it +was settled. And I'm glad the eldest is Nicholas. He is a fine, sturdy +little Yorkshireman, bawling out already for what he wants, and flying +into a temper if he doesn't get it as soon as he wants it. Dearie me, +Ethel, I am a proud woman this morning. And Nicholas is going to give +all the hands a holiday, and a trip up to Ambleside on Saturday, though +John Thomas is very much against it." + +"Why is he against it?" + +"He says they will be holding a meeting on Monday night to try and find +out what Old Nicholas is up to, and that if he doesn't give them the +same treat on the same date next year, they'll hold an indignation +meeting about being swindled out of their rights. And I'll pledge you my +word John Thomas knows the men he's talking about. However, Nicholas +is close with his money, and it will do him good happen to lose a bit. +Blood-letting is healthy for the body, and perhaps gold-letting may help +the soul more than we think for." + +This news stimulated Ethel's thinking, and when she also stood beside +the two cradles, and the little Nicholas opened his big blue eyes and +began to "bawl for what he wanted," a certain idea took fast hold of +her, and she nursed it silently for the next month, watch-ing Tyrrel at +the same time. It was near October, however, before she found the proper +opportunity for speaking. There had been a long letter from the Judge. +It said Ruth and he were home again after a wonderful trip over the +Northern Pacific road. He wrote with enthusiasm of the country and its +opportunities, and of the big cities they had visited on their return +from the Pacific coast. Every word was alive, the magnitude and stir of +traffic and wrestling humanity seemed to rustle the paper. He described +New York as overflowing with business. His own plans, the plans of +others, the jar of politics, the thrill of music and the drama--all the +multitudinous vitality that crowded the streets and filled the air, even +to the roofs of the twenty-story buildings, contributed to the potent +exhilaration of the letter. + +"Great George!" exclaimed Tyrrel. "That is life! That is living! I wish +we were back in America!" + +"So do I, Tyrrel." + +"I am so glad. When shall we go? It is now the twenty-eighth of +September." + +"Are you very weary of Rawdon Court"' + +"Yes. If a man could live for the sake of eating and sleeping and having +a pleasant time, why Rawdon Court would be a heaven to him; but if he +wants to DO something with his life, he would be most unhappy here." + +"And you want to do something?" + +"You would not have loved a man who did not want TO DO. We have been +here four months. Think of it! If I take four months out of every year +for twenty years, I shall lose, with travel, about seven years of +my life, and the other things to be dropped with them may be of +incalculable value." + +"I see, Tyrrel. I am not bound in any way to keep Rawdon Court. I can +sell it to-morrow." + +"But you would be grieved to do so?" + +"Not at all. Being a lady of the Manor does not flatter me. The other +squires would rather have a good man in my place." + +"Why did you buy it?" + +"As I have told you, to keep Mostyn out, and to keep a Rawdon here. But +Nicholas Rawdon craves the place, and will pay well for his desire. It +cost me eighty thousand pounds. He told father he would gladly give me +one hundred thousand pounds whenever I was tired of my bargain. I will +take the hundred thousand pounds to-morrow. There would then be four +good heirs to Rawdon on the place." + +Here the conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Nicholas, who came to +invite them to the christening feast of the twins. Tyrrel soon left the +ladies together, and Ethel at once opened the desired conversation. + +"I am afraid we may have left the Court before the christening," she +said. "Mr. Rawdon is very unhappy here. He is really homesick." + +"But this is his home, isn't it? And a very fine one." + +"He cannot feel it so. He has large interests in America. I doubt if +I ever induce him to come here again. You see, this visit has been our +marriage trip." + +"And you won't live here! I never heard the line. What will you do with +the Court? It will be badly used if it is left to servants seven or +eight months every year." + +"I suppose I must sell it. I see no----" + +"If you only would let Nicholas buy it. You might be sure then it would +be well cared for, and the little lads growing up in it, who would +finally heir it. Oh, Ethel, if you would think of Nicholas first. He +would honor the place and be an honor to it." + +Out of this conversation the outcome was as satisfactory as it was +certain, and within two weeks Nicholas Rawdon was Squire of Rawdon +Manor, and possessor of the famous old Manor House. Then there followed +a busy two weeks for Tyrrel, who had the superintendence of the packing, +which was no light business. For though Ethel would not denude the Court +of its ancient furniture and ornaments, there were many things belonging +to the personal estate of the late Squire which had been given to her by +his will, and could not be left behind. But by the end of October cases +and trunks were all sent off to the steamship in which their passage was +taken; and the Rawdon estate, which had played such a momentous part in +Ethel's life having finished its mission, had no further influence, and +without regret passed out of her physical life forever. + +Indeed, their willingness to resign all claims to the old home was a +marvel to both Tyrrel and Ethel. On their last afternoon there they +walked through the garden, and stood under the plane tree where +their vows of love had been pledged, and smiled and wondered at their +indifference. The beauteous glamor of first love was gone as completely +as the flowers and scents and songs that had then filled the charming +place. But amid the sweet decay of these things they once more clasped +hands, looking with supreme confidence into each other's eyes. All that +had then been promised was now certain; and with an affection infinitely +sweeter and surer, Tyrrel drew Ethel to his heart, and on her lips +kissed the tenderest, proudest words a woman hears, "My dear wife!" + +This visit was their last adieu, all the rest had been said, and early +the next morning they left Monk-Rawdon station as quietly as they had +arrived. During their short reign at Rawdon Court they had been very +popular, and perhaps their resignation was equally so. After all, they +were foreigners, and Nicholas Rawdon was Yorkshire, root and branch. + +"Nice young people," said Justice Manningham at a hunt dinner, "but +our ways are not their ways, nor like to be. The young man was born a +fighter, and there are neither bears nor Indians here for him to +fight; and our politics are Greek to him; and the lady, very sweet and +beautiful, but full of new ideas--ideas not suitable for women, and we +do not wish our women changed." + +"Good enough as they are," mumbled Squire Oakes. + +"Nicest Americans I ever met," added Earl Danvers, "but Nicholas Rawdon +will be better at Rawdon Court." To which statement there was a general +assent, and then the subject was considered settled. + +In the meantime Tyrrel and Ethel had reached London and gone to the +Metropole Hotel; because, as Ethel said, no one knew where Dora was; but +if in England, she was likely to be at the Savoy. They were to be two +days in London. Tyrrel had banking and other business to fully occupy +the time, and Ethel remembered she had some shopping to do, a thing any +woman would discover if she found herself in the neighborhood of Regent +Street and Piccadilly. On the afternoon of the second day this duty was +finished, and she returned to her hotel satisfied but a little weary. As +she was going up the steps she noticed a woman coming slowly down them. +It was Dora Mostyn. They met with great enthusiasm on Dora's part, and +she turned back and went with Ethel to her room. + +Ethel looked at her with astonishment. She was not like any Dora she had +previously seen. Her beauty had developed wondrously, she had grown much +taller, and her childish manner had been superseded by a carriage and +air of superb grace and dignity. She had now a fine color, and her eyes +were darker, softer, and more dreamy than ever. "Take off your hat, +Dora," said Ethel, "and tell me what has happened. You are positively +splendid. Where is Mr. Mostyn?" + +"I neither know nor care. He is tramping round the world after me, and +I intend to keep him at it. But I forget. I must tell you how THAT has +come about." + +"We heard from Mrs. Denning. She said she had received you safely." + +"My dear mother! She met me like an angel; comforted and cared for +me, never said one word of blame, only kissed and pitied me. We talked +things over, and she advised me to go to New York. So we took three +passages under the names of Mrs. John Gifford, Miss Gifford, and Miss +Diana Gifford. Miss Diana was my maid, but mother thought a party of +three would throw Mostyn off our track." + +"A very good idea." + +"We sailed at once. On the second day out I had a son. The poor little +fellow died in a few hours, and was buried at sea. But his birth has +given me the power to repay to Fred Mostyn some of the misery he caused +me." + +"How so? I do not see." + +"Oh, you must see, if you will only remember how crazy Englishmen are +about their sons. Daughters don't count, you know, but a son carries +the property in the family name. He is its representative for the next +generation. As I lay suffering and weeping, a fine scheme of revenge +came clearly to me. Listen! Soon after we got home mother cabled +Mostyn's lawyer that 'Mrs. Mostyn had had a son.' Nothing was said of +the boy's death. Almost immediately I was notified that Mr. Mostyn would +insist on the surrender of the child to his care. I took no notice of +the letters. Then he sent his lawyer to claim the child and a woman to +take care of it. I laughed them to scorn, and defied them to find +the child. After them came Mostyn himself. He interviewed doctors, +overlooked baptismal registers, advertised far and wide, bribed our +servants, bearded father in his office, abused Bryce on the avenue, +waylaid me in all my usual resorts, and bombarded me with letters, but +he knows no more yet than the cable told him. And the man is becoming a +monomaniac about HIS SON." + +"Are you doing right, Dora?" + +"If you only knew how he had tortured me! Father and mother think he +deserves all I can do to him. Anyway, he will have it to bear. If he +goes to the asylum he threatened me with, I shall be barely satisfied. +The 'cat-faced woman' is getting her innings now." + +"Have you never spoken to him or written to him? Surely" + +"He caught me one day as I came out of our house, and said, 'Madam, +where is my son?' And I answered, 'You have no son. The child WAS MINE. +You shall never see his face in this world. I have taken good care of +that.' + +"'I will find him some day,' he said, and I laughed at him, and +answered, 'He is too cunningly hid. Do you think I would let the boy +know he had such a father as you? No, indeed. Not unless there was +property for the disgrace.' I touched him on the raw in that remark, +and then I got into my carriage and told the coachman to drive quickly. +Mostyn attempted to follow me, but the whip lashing the horses was in +the way." And Dora laughed, and the laugh was cruel and mocking and full +of meaning. + +"Dora, how can you? How can you find pleasure in such revenges?" + +"I am having the greatest satisfaction of my life. And I am only +beginning the just retribution, for my beauty is enthralling the man +again, and he is on the road to a mad jealousy of me." + +"Why don't you get a divorce? This is a case for that remedy. He might +then marry again, and you also." + +"Even so, I should still torment him. If he had sons he would be +miserable in the thought that his unknown son might, on his death, take +from them the precious Mostyn estate, and that wretched, old, haunted +house of his. I am binding him to misery on every hand." + +"Is Mrs. Denning here with you?" + +"Both my father and mother are with me. Father is going to take a year's +rest, and we shall visit Berlin, Vienna, Rome, Paris or wherever our +fancy leads us." + +"And Mr. Mostyn?" + +"He can follow me round, and see nobles and princes and kings pay court +to the beauty of the 'cat-faced woman.' I shall never notice him, never +speak to him; but you need not look so suspicious, Ethel. Neither +by word nor deed will I break a single convention of the strictest +respectability." + +"Mr. Mostyn ought to give you your freedom." + +"I have given freedom to myself. I have already divorced him. When they +brought my dead baby for me to kiss, I slipped into its little hand +the ring that made me his mother. They went to the bottom of the sea +together. As for ever marrying again, not in this life. I have had +enough of it. My first husband was the sweetest saint out of heaven, +and my second was some mean little demon that had sneaked his way out of +hell; and I found both insupportable." She lifted her hat as she spoke, +and began to pin it on her beautifully dressed hair. "Have no fear for +me," she continued. "I am sure Basil watches over me. Some day I shall +be good, and he will be happy." Then, hand in hand, they walked to the +door together, and there were tears in both voices as they softly said +"Good-by." + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +A WEEK after this interview Tyrrel and Ethel were in New York. They +landed early in the morning, but the Judge and Ruth were on the pier to +meet them; and they breakfasted together at the fashionable hotel, +where an elegant suite had been reserved for the residence of the +Tyrrel-Rawdons until they had perfected their plans for the future. +Tyrrel was boyishly excited, but Ethel's interest could not leave +her father and his new wife. These two had lived in the same home for +fifteen years, and then they had married each other, and both of them +looked fifteen years younger. The Judge was actually merry, and Ruth, in +spite of her supposed "docility," had quite reversed the situation. It +was the Judge who was now docile, and even admiringly obedient to all +Ruth's wifely advices and admonitions. + +The breakfast was a talkative, tardy one, but at length the Judge went +to his office and Tyrrel had to go to the Custom House. Ethel was eager +to see her grandmother, and she was sure the dear old lady was anxiously +waiting her arrival. And Ruth was just as anxious for Ethel to visit her +renovated home. She had the young wife's delight in its beauty, and she +wanted Ethel to admire it with her. + +"We will dine with you to-morrow, Ruth," said Ethel, "and I will come +very early and see all the improvements. I feel sure the house is +lovely, and I am glad father made you such a pretty nest. Nothing is too +pretty for you, Ruth." And there was no insincerity in this compliment. +These two women knew and loved and trusted each other without a shadow +of doubt or variableness. + +So Ruth went to her home, and Ethel hastened to Gramercy Park. Madam was +eagerly watching for her arrival. + +"I have been impatient for a whole hour, all in a quiver, dearie," she +cried. "It is nearly noon." + +"I have been impatient also, Granny, but father and Ruth met us at the +pier and stayed to breakfast with us, and you know how men talk and +talk." + +"Ruth and father down at the pier! How you dream!" + +"They were really there. And they do seem so happy, grandmother. They +are so much in love with each other." + +"I dare say. There are no fools like old fools. So you have sold the +Court to Nicholas Rawdon, and a cotton-spinner is Lord of the Manor. +Well, well, how are the mighty fallen!" + +"I made twenty thousand pounds by the sale. Nicholas Rawdon is +a gentleman, and John Thomas is the most popular man in all the +neighborhood. And, Granny, he has two sons--twins--the handsomest little +chaps you ever saw. No fear of a Rawdon to heir the Manor now." + +"Fortune is a baggage. When she is ill to a man she knows no reason. She +sent John Thomas to Parliament, and kept Fred out at a loss, too. She +took the Court from Fred and gave it to John Thomas, and she gives +him two sons about the same time she gives Fred one, and that one she +kidnaps out of his sight and knowledge. Poor Fred!" + +"Well, grandmother, it is 'poor Fred's' own doing, and, I assure you, +Fred would have been most unwelcome at the Court. And the squires and +gentry round did not like a woman in the place; they were at a loss what +to do with me. I was no good for dinners and politics and hunting. +I embarrassed them." "Of course you would. They would have to talk +decently and behave politely, and they would not be able to tell their +choicest stories. Your presence would be a bore; but could not Tyrrel +take your place?" + +"Granny, Tyrrel was really unhappy in that kind of life. And he was a +foreigner, so was I. You know what Yorkshire people think of foreigners. +They were very courteous, but they were glad to have the Yorkshire +Rawdons in our place. And Tyrrel did not like working with the earth; he +loves machinery and electricity." + +"To be sure. When a man has got used to delving for gold or silver, +cutting grass and wheat does seem a slow kind of business." + +"And he disliked the shut-up feeling the park gave him. He said we were +in the midst of solitude three miles thick. It made him depressed and +lonely." + +"That is nonsense. I am sure on the Western plains he had solitude sixty +miles thick--often." + +"Very likely, but then he had an horizon, even if it were sixty miles +away. And no matter how far he rode, there was always that line where +earth seemed to rise to heaven. But the park was surrounded by a brick +wall fourteen feet high. It had no horizon. You felt as if you were in +a large, green box--at least Tyrrel did. The wall was covered with roses +and ivy, but still it was a boundary you could not pass, and could not +see over. Don't you understand, Granny, how Tyrrel would feel this?" + +"I can't say I do. Why didn't he come with you?" + +"He had to go to the Customs about our trunks, and there were other +things. He will see you to-morrow. Then we are going to dine with +father, and if you will join us, we will call at six for you. Do, +Granny." + +"Very well, I shall be ready." But after a moment's thought she +continued, "No, I will not go. I am only a mortal woman, and the company +of angels bores me yet." + +"Now, Granny, dear." + +"I mean what I say. Your father has married such a piece of perfection +that I feel my shortcomings in her presence more than I can bear. But +I'll tell you what, dearie, Tyrrel may come for me Saturday night at +six, and I will have my dinner with you. I want to see the dining-room +of a swell hotel in full dress; and I will wear my violet satin and +white Spanish lace, and look as smart as can be, dear. And Tyrrel may +buy me a bunch of white violets. I am none too old to wear them. Who +knows but I may go to the theater also?" + +"Oh, Granny, you are just the dearest young lady I know! Tyrrel will be +as proud as a peacock." + +"Well, I am not as young as I might be, but I am a deal younger than I +look. Listen, dearie, I have never FELT old yet! Isn't that a thing to +be grateful for? I don't read much poetry, except it be in the Church +Hymnal, but I cut a verse out of a magazine a year ago which just suits +my idea of life, and, what is still more wonderful, I took the trouble +to learn it. Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote it, and I'll warrant him for +a good, cheerful, trust-in-God man, or he'd never have thought of such +sensible words." + +"I am listening, Granny, for the verse." + +"Yes, and learn it yourself. It will come in handy some day, when Tyrrel +and you are getting white-haired and handsome, as everyone ought to get +when they have passed their half-century and are facing the light of the +heavenly world: + + "At sixty-two life has begun; + At seventy-three begins once more; + Fly swifter as thou near'st the sun, + And brighter shine at eighty-four. + At ninety-five, + Should thou arrive, + Still wait on God, and work and thrive." + +Such words as those, Ethel, keep a woman young, and make her right glad +that she was born and thankful that she lives." + +"Thank you for them, dear Granny. Now I must run away as fast as I can. +Tyrrel will be wondering what has happened to me." + +In this conjecture she was right. Tyrrel was in evening dress, and +walking restlessly about their private parlor. "Ethel," he said, +plaintively, "I have been so uneasy about you." + +"I am all right, dearest. I was with grandmother. I shall be ready in +half an hour." + +Even if she had been longer, she would have earned the delay, for she +returned to him in pink silk and old Venice point de rose, with a pretty +ermine tippet across her shoulders. It was a joy to see her, a delight +to hear her speak, and she walked as if she heard music. The dining-room +was crowded when they entered, but they made a sensation. Many rose +and came to welcome them home. Others smiled across the busy space and +lifted their wineglass in recognition. The room was electric, sensitive +and excited. It was flooded with a soft light; it was full of the +perfume of flowers. The brilliant coloring of silks and satins, and the +soft miracle of white lace blended with the artistically painted walls +and roof. The aroma of delicate food, the tinkle of crystal, the low +murmur of happy voices, the thrill of sudden laughter, and the delicious +accompaniment of soft, sensuous music completed the charm of the room. +To eat in such surroundings was as far beyond the famous flower-crowned +feasts of Rome and Greece as the east is from the west. It was +impossible to resist its influence. From the point of the senses, the +soul was drinking life out of a cup of overflowing delight. And it was +only natural that in their hearts both Tyrrel and Ethel should make a +swift, though silent, comparison between this feast of sensation and +flow of human attraction and the still, sweet order of the Rawdon +dining-room, with its noiseless service, and its latticed win-dows open +to all the wandering scents and songs of the garden. + +Perhaps the latter would have the sweetest and dearest and most abiding +place in their hearts; but just in the present they were enthralled and +excited by the beauty and good comradeship of the social New York dinner +function. Their eyes were shining, their hearts thrilling, they went to +their own apartments hand in hand, buoyant, vivacious, feeling that life +was good and love unchangeable. And the windows being open, they walked +to one and stood looking out upon the avenue. All signs of commerce +had gone from the beautiful street, but it was busy and noisy with the +traffic of pleasure, and the hum of multitudes, the rattle of carriages, +the rush of autos, the light, hurrying footsteps of pleasure-seekers +insistently demanded their sympathy. + +"We cannot go out to-night," said Ethel. "We are both more weary than we +know." + +"No, we cannot go to-night; but, oh, Ethel, we are in New York again! +Is not that joy enough? I am so happy! I am so happy. We are in New York +again! There is no city like it in all the world. Men live here, they +work here, they enjoy here. How happy, how busy we are going to be, +Ethel!" + +During these joyful, hopeful expectations he was walking up and down the +room, his eyes dilating with rapture, and Ethel closed the window and +joined him. They magnified their joy, they wondered at it, they were +sure no one before them had ever loved as they loved. "And we are going +to live here, Ethel; going to have our home here! Upon my honor, I +cannot speak the joy I feel, but"--and he went impetuously to the piano +and opened it--"but I can perhaps sing it-- + + "'There is not a spot in this wide-peopled earth + So dear to the heart as the Land of our Birth; + 'Tis the home of our childhood, the beautiful spot + Which Memory retains when all else is forgot. + May the blessing of God ever hallow the sod, + And its valleys and hills by our children be trod! + + "'May Columbia long lift her white crest o'er the wave, + The birthplace of science and the home of the brave. + In her cities may peace and prosperity dwell, + And her daughters in virtue and beauty excel. + May the blessing of God ever hallow the sod, + And its valleys and hills by our children be trod.'" + + +With the patriotic music warbling in his throat he turned to Ethel, +and looked at her as a lover can, and she answered the look; and thus +leaning toward each other in visible beauty and affection their new life +began. Between smiles and kisses they sat speaking, not of the past with +all its love and loveliness, but of the high things calling to them +from the future, the work and duties of life set to great ends both +for public and private good. And as they thus communed Tyrrel took his +wife's hand and slowly turned on her finger the plain gold wedding ring +behind its barrier of guarding gems. + +"Ethel," he said tenderly, "what enchantments are in this ring of gold! +What romances I used to weave around it, and, dearest, it has turned +every Romance into Reality." + +"And, Tyrrel, it will also turn all our Realities into Romances. Nothing +in our life will ever become common. Love will glorify everything." + +"And we shall always love as we love now?" + +"We shall love far better, far stronger, far more tenderly." + +"Even to the end of our lives, Ethel?" + +"Yes, to the very end." + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +A PAUSE of blissful silence followed this assurance. It was broken by +a little exclamation from Ethel. "Oh, dear," she said, "how selfishly +thoughtless my happiness makes me! I have forgotten to tell you, +until this moment, that I have a letter from Dora. It was sent to +grandmother's care, and I got it this afternoon; also one from Lucy +Rawdon. The two together bring Dora's affairs, I should say, to a +pleasanter termination than we could have hoped for." + +"Where is the Enchantress?" + +"In Paris at present." + +"I expected that answer." + +"But listen, she is living the quietest of lives; the most devoted +daughter cannot excel her." + +"Is she her own authority for that astonishing statement? Do you believe +it?" + +"Yes, under the circumstances. Mr. Denning went to Paris for a critical +and painful operation, and Dora is giving all her love and time +toward making his convalescence as pleasant as it can be. In fact, her +description of their life in the pretty chateau they have rented outside +of Paris is quite idyllic. When her father is able to travel they are +going to Algiers for the winter, and will return to New York about next +May. Dora says she never intends to leave America again." + +"Where is her husband? Keeping watch on the French chateau?" + +"That is over. Mr. Denning persuaded Dora to write a statement of all +the facts concerning the birth of the child. She told her husband the +name under which they traveled, the names of the ship, the captain, and +the ship's doctor, and Mrs. Denning authenticated the statement; but, +oh, what a mean, suspicious creature Mostyn is!" + +"What makes you reiterate that description of him?" + +"He was quite unable to see any good or kind intent in this paper. He +proved its correctness, and then wrote Mr. Denning a very contemptible +letter." + +"Which was characteristic enough. What did he say?" + +"That the amende honorable was too late; that he supposed Dora wished to +have the divorce proceedings stopped and be reinstated as his wife, +but he desired the whole Denning family to understand that was now +impossible; he was 'fervently, feverishly awaiting his freedom, which +he expected at any hour.' He said it was 'sickening to remember the +weariness of body and soul Dora had given him about a non-existing +child, and though this could never be atoned for, he did think he ought +to be refunded the money Dora's contemptible revenge had cost him."' + +"How could he? How could he?" + +"Of course Mr. Denning sent him a check, a pretty large one, I dare say. +And I suppose he has his freedom by this time, unless he has married +again." + +"He will never marry again." + +"Indeed, that is the strange part of the story. It was because he +wanted to marry again that he was 'fervently, feverishly awaiting his +freedom.'" + +"I can hardly believe it, Ethel. What does Dora say?" + +"I have the news from Lucy. She says when Mostyn was ignored by everyone +in the neighborhood, one woman stood up for him almost passionately. Do +you remember Miss Sadler?" + +"That remarkable governess of the Surreys? Why, Ethel, she is the very +ugliest woman I ever saw." + +"She is so ugly that she is fascinating. If you see her one minute you +can never forget her, and she is brains to her finger tips. She ruled +everyone at Surrey House. She was Lord Surrey's secretary and Lady +Surrey's adviser. She educated the children, and they adored her; she +ruled the servants, and they obeyed her with fear and trembling. Nothing +was done in Surrey House without her approval. And if her face was not +handsome, she had a noble presence and a manner that was irresistible." + +"And she took Mostyn's part?" + +"With enthusiasm. She abused Dora individually, and American women +generally. She pitied Mr. Mostyn, and made others do so; and when she +perceived there would be but a shabby and tardy restoration for him +socially, she advised him to shake off the dust of his feet from +Monk-Rawdon, and begin life in some more civilized place. And in order +that he might do so, she induced Lord Surrey to get him a very excellent +civil appointment in Calcutta." + +"Then he is going to India?" + +"He is probably now on the way there. He sold the Mostyn estate----" + +"I can hardly believe it." + +"He sold it to John Thomas Rawdon. John Thomas told me it belonged to +Rawdon until the middle of the seventeenth century, and he meant to have +it back. He has got it." + +"Miss Sadler must be a witch." + +"She is a sensible, practical woman, who knows how to manage men. +She has soothed Mostyn's wounded pride with appreciative flattery and +stimulated his ambition. She has promised him great things in India, and +she will see that he gets them." + +"He must be completely under her control." + +"She will never let him call his soul his own, but she will manage +his affairs to perfection. And Dora is forever rid of that wretched +influence. The man can never again come between her and her love; never +again come between her and happiness. There will be the circumference of +the world as a barrier." + +"There will be Jane Sadler as a barrier. She will be sufficient. The +Woman Between will annihilate The Man Between. Dora is now safe. What +will she do with herself?" + +"She will come back to New York and be a social power. She is young, +beautiful, rich, and her father has tremendous financial influence. +Social affairs are ruled by finance. I should not wonder to see her in +St. Jude's, a devotee and eminent for good works." + +"And if Basil Stanhope should return?" + +"Poor Basil--he is dead." + +"How do you know that?" + +"What DO you mean, Tyrrel?" + +"Are you sure Basil is dead? What proof have you?" + +"You must be dreaming! Of course he is dead! His friend came and told me +so--told me everything." + +"Is that all?" + +"There were notices in the papers." + +"Is that all?" + +"Mr. Denning must have known it when he stopped divorce proceedings." + +"Doubtless he believed it; he wished to do so." + +"Tyrrel, tell me what you mean." + +"I always wondered about his death rather than believed in it. Basil had +a consuming sense of honor and affection for the Church and its sacred +offices. He would have died willingly rather than drag them into +the mire of a divorce court. When the fear became certainty he +disappeared--really died to all his previous life." + +"But I cannot conceive of Basil lying for any purpose." + +"He disappeared. His family and friends took on themselves the means +they thought most likely to make that disappearance a finality." + +"Have you heard anything, seen anything?" + +"One night just before I left the West a traveler asked me for a night's +lodging. He had been prospecting in British America in the region of +the Klondike, and was full of incidental conversation. Among many other +things he told me of a wonderful sermon he had heard from a young man in +a large mining camp. I did not give the story any attention at the time, +but after he had gone away it came to me like a flash of light that the +preacher was Basil Stanhope." + +"Oh, Tyrrel, if it was--if it was! What a beautiful dream! But it is +only a dream. If it could be true, would he forgive Dora? Would he come +back to her?" + +"No!" Tyrrel's voice was positive and even stern. "No, he could never +come back to her. She might go to him. She left him without any reason. +I do not think he would care to see her again." + +"I would say no more, Tyrrel. I do not think as you do. It is a dream, +a fancy, just an imagination. But if it were true, Basil would wish no +pilgrimage of abasement. He would say to her, 'Dear one, HUSH! Love is +here, travel-stained, sore and weary, but so happy to welcome you!' And +he would open all his great, sweet heart to her. May I tell Dora some +day what you have thought and said? It will be something good for her to +dream about." + +"Do you think she cares? Did she ever love him?" + +"He was her first love. She loved him once with all her heart. If it +would be right--safe, I mean, to tell Dora----" + +"On this subject there is so much NOT to say. I would never speak of +it." + +"It may be a truth" + +"Then it is among those truths that should be held back, and it is +likely only a trick of my imagination, a supposition, a fancy." + +"A miracle! And of two miracles I prefer the least, and that is that +Basil is dead. Your young preacher is a dream; and, oh, Tyrrel, I am +so tired! It has been such a long, long, happy day! I want to sleep. My +eyes are shutting as I talk to you. Such a long, long, happy day!" + +"And so many long, happy days to come, dearest." + +"So many," she answered, as she took Tyrrel's hand, and lifted her fur +and fan and gloves. "What were those lines we read together the night +before we were married? I forget, I am so tired. I know that life should +have many a hope and aim, duties enough, and little cares, and now be +quiet, and now astir, till God's hand beckoned us unawares----" + +The rest was inaudible. But between that long, happy day and the present +time there has been an arc of life large enough to place the union of +Tyrrel and Ethel Rawdon among those blessed bridals that are + +"The best of life's romances." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Man Between, by Amelia E. Barr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN BETWEEN *** + +***** This file should be named 787.txt or 787.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/8/787/ + +Produced by Charles Keller + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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For it is possible to introduce +Ethel Rawdon in so many picturesque ways +that the choice is embarrassing, and forces me +to the conclusion that the actual circumstances, +though commonplace, may be the +most suitable. Certainly the events that shape +our lives are seldom ushered in with pomp or +ceremony; they steal upon us unannounced, +and begin their work without giving any premonition +of their importance. + +Consequently Ethel had no idea when she +returned home one night from a rather stupid +entertainment that she was about to open +a new and important chapter of her life. +Hitherto that life had been one of the sweetest +and simplest character--the lessons and +sports of childhood and girlhood had claimed +her nineteen years; and Ethel was just at that +wonderful age when, the brook and the river +having met, she was feeling the first swell of +those irresistible tides which would carry her +day by day to the haven of all days. + +It was Saturday night in the January of +1900, verging toward twelve o'clock. When +she entered her room, she saw that one of +the windows was open, and she stood a moment +or two at it, looking across the straight miles +of white lights, in whose illumined shadows +thousands of sleepers were holding their lives +in pause. + +"It is not New York at all," she whispered, +"it is some magical city that I have seen, but +have never trod. It will vanish about six +o'clock in the morning, and there will be only +common streets, full of common people. Of +course," and here she closed the window and +leisurely removed her opera cloak, "of +course, this is only dreaming, but to dream +waking, or to dream sleeping, is very pleasant. +In dreams we can have men as we like +them, and women as we want them, and make +all the world happy and beautiful." + +She was in no hurry of feeling or movement. +She had been in a crowd for some hours, and +was glad to be quite alone and talk to herself +a little. It was also so restful to gradually +relinquish all the restraining gauds of fashionable +attire, and as she leisurely performed +these duties, she entered into conversation +with her own heart--talked over with it the +events of the past week, and decided that its +fretless days, full of good things, had been, +from the beginning to the end, sweet as a cup +of new milk. For a woman's heart is very +talkative, and requires little to make it +eloquent in its own way. + +In the midst of this intimate companionship +she turned her head, and saw two letters lying +upon a table. She rose and lifted them. One +was an invitation to a studio reception, and +she let it flutter indeterminately from her +hand; the other was both familiar and appealing; +none of her correspondents but Dora +Denning used that peculiar shade of blue +paper, and she instantly began to wonder why +Dora had written to her. + +"I saw her yesterday afternoon," she reflected, +"and she told me everything she had +to tell--and what does she-mean by such a +tantalizing message as this? `Dearest Ethel: I +have the most extraordinary news. Come to +me immediately. Dora.' How exactly like +Dora!" she commented. "Come to me im- +mediately--whether you are in bed or asleep +--whether you are sick or well--whether it is +midnight or high noon--come to me immediately. +Well, Dora, I am going to sleep now, +and to-morrow is Sunday, and I never know +what view father is going to take of Sunday. +He may ask me to go to church with him, and +he may not. He may want me to drive in the +afternoon, and again he may not; but Sunday +is father's home day, and Ruth and I make a +point of obliging him in regard to it. That +is one of our family principles; and a girl +ought to have a few principles of conduct +involving self-denial. Aunt Ruth says, `Life +cannot stand erect without self-denial,' and +aunt is usually right--but I do wonder what +Dora wants! I cannot imagine what extraordinary +news has come. I must try and see +her to-morrow--it may be difficult--but I +must make the effort"--and with this satisfying +resolution she easily fell asleep. + +When she awoke the church bells were ringing +and she knew that her father and aunt +would have breakfasted. The feet did not +trouble her. It was an accidental sleep-over; +she had not planned it, and circumstances +would take care of themselves. In any case, +she had no fear of rebuke. No one was ever +cross with Ethel. It was a matter of pretty +general belief that whatever Ethel did was +just right. So she dressed herself becomingly +in a cloth suit, and, with her plumed hat on +her head, went down to see what the day had +to offer her. + +"The first thing is coffee, and then, all being +agreeable, Dora. I shall not look further +ahead," she thought. + +As she entered the room she called "Good +morning!" and her voice was like the voice +of the birds when they call "Spring!"; and +her face was radiant with smiles, and the touch +of her lips and the clasp of her hand warm +with love and life; and her father and aunt +forgot that she was late, and that her breakfast +was yet to order. + +She took up the reproach herself. "I am +so sorry, Aunt Ruth. I only want a cup of +coffee and a roll." + +"My dear, you cannot go without a proper +breakfast. Never mind the hour. What would +you like best?" + +"You are so good, Ruth. I should like a +nice breakfast--a breast of chicken and mushrooms, +and some hot muffins and marmalade +would do. How comfortable you look here! +Father, you are buried in newspapers. Is +anyone going to church?" + +Ruth ordered the desired breakfast and Mr. +Rawdon took out his watch--"I am afraid +you have delayed us too long this morning, +Ethel." + +"Am I to be the scapegoat? Now, I do not +believe anyone wanted to go to church. Ruth +had her book, you, the newspapers. It is warm +and pleasant here, it is cold and windy outside. +I know what confession would be made, +if honesty were the fashion." + +"Well, my little girl, honesty is the fashion +in this house. I believe in going to church. +Religion is the Mother of Duty, and we should +all make a sad mess of life without duty. Is +not that so, Ruth?" + +"Truth itself, Edward; but religion is not +going to church and listening to sermons. +Those who built the old cathedrals of Europe +had no idea that sitting in comfortable pews +and listening to some man talking was worshiping +God. Those great naves were intended +for men and women to stand or kneel +in before God. And there were no high or +low standing or kneeling places; all were on a +level before Him. It is our modern Protestantism +which has brought in lazy lolling in +cushioned pews; and the gallery, which makes +a church as like a playhouse as possible!" + +"What are you aiming at, Ruth?" + +"I only meant to say, I would like going to +church much better if we went solely to praise +God, and entreat His mercy. I do not care to +hear sermons." + +"My dear Ruth, sermons are a large fact in +our social economy. When a million or two +are preached every year, they have a strong +claim on our attention. To use a trade phrase, +sermons are firm, and I believe a moderate tax +on them would yield an astonishing income." + +"See how you talk of them, Edward; as +if they were a commercial commodity. If you +respected them----" + +"I do. I grant them a steady pneumatic +pressure in the region of morals, and even +faith. Picture to yourself, Ruth, New York +without sermons. The dear old city would be +like a ship without ballast, heeling over with +every wind, and letting in the waters of +immorality and scepticism. Remove this pulpit +balance just for one week from New York +City, and where should we be?" + +"Well then," said Ethel, "the clergy ought +to give New York a first-rate article in sermons, +either of home or foreign manufacture. +New York expects the very best of everything; +and when she gets it, she opens her +heart and her pocketbook enjoys it, and pays +for it." + +"That is the truth, Ethel. I was thinking +of your grandmother Rawdon. You have +your hat on--are you going to see her?" + +"I am going to see Dora Denning. I had +an urgent note from her last night. She says +she has `extraordinary news' and begs me to +`come to her immediately.' I cannot imagine +what her news is. I saw her Friday +afternoon." + +"She has a new poodle, or a new lover, or a +new way of crimping her hair," suggested +Ruth Bayard scornfully." She imposes on +you, Ethel; why do you submit to her selfishness?" + +"I suppose because I have become used +to it. Four years ago I began to take her part, +when the girls teased and tormented her in the +schoolroom, and I have big-sistered her ever +since. I suppose we get to love those who +make us kind and give us trouble. Dora is not +perfect, but I like her better than any friend +I have. And she must like me, for she asks +my advice about everything in her life." + +"Does she take it?" + +"Yes--generally. Sometimes I have to +make her take it." + +"She has a mother. Why does she not go +to her?" + +"Mrs. Denning knows nothing about certain +subjects. I am Dora's social godmother, +and she must dress and behave as I tell her to +do. Poor Mrs. Denning! I am so sorry for +her--another cup of coffee, Ruth--it is not +very strong." + +"Why should you be sorry for Mrs. Denning, +Her husband is enormously rich--she +lives in a palace, and has a crowd of men and +women servants to wait upon her--carriages, +horses, motor cars, what not, at her command." + +"Yet really, Ruth, she is a most unhappy +woman. In that little Western town from +which they came, she was everybody. She ran +the churches, and was chairwoman in all the +clubs, and President of the Temperance +Union, and manager of every religious, social, +and political festival; and her days were full +to the brim of just the things she liked to do. +Her dress there was considered magnificent; +people begged her for patterns, and regarded +her as the very glass of fashion. Servants +thought it a great privilege to be employed on +the Denning place, and she ordered her house +and managed her half-score of men and maids +with pleasant autocracy. NOW! Well, I will +tell you how it is, NOW. She sits all day in her +splendid rooms, or rides out in her car or carriage, +and no one knows her, and of course no +one speaks to her. Mr. Denning has his Wall +Street friends----" + +"And enemies," interrupted Judge Rawdon. + +"And enemies! You are right, father. +But he enjoys one as much as the other--that +is, he would as willingly fight his enemies as +feast his friends. He says a big day in Wall +Street makes him alive from head to foot. +He really looks happy. Bryce Denning has +got into two clubs, and his money passes him, +for he plays, and is willing to love prudently. +But no one cares about Mrs. Denning. She is +quite old--forty-five, I dare say; and she is +stout, and does not wear the colors and style +she ought to wear--none of her things have +the right `look,' and of course I cannot advise +a matron. Then, her fine English servants +take her house out of her hands. She is afraid +of them. The butler suavely tries to inform +her; the housekeeper removed the white +crotcheted scarfs and things from the gilded +chairs, and I am sure Mrs. Denning had a +heartache about their loss; but she saw that +they had also vanished from Dora's parlor, +so she took the hint, and accepted the lesson. +Really, her humility and isolation are pitiful. +I am going to ask grandmother to go and see +her. Grandmother might take her to church, +and get Dr. Simpson and Mrs. Simpson to +introduce her. Her money and adaptability +would do the rest. There, I have had a good +breakfast, though I was late. It is not always +the early bird that gets chicken and mushrooms. +Now I will go and see what Dora +wants"--and lifting her furs with a smile, +and a "Good morning!" equally charming, +she disappeared. + +"Did you notice her voice, Ruth?" asked +Judge Rawdon. What a tone there is in her +`good morning!'" + +"There is a tone in every one's good morning, +Edward. I think people's salutations set +to music would reveal their inmost character. +Ethel's good morning says in D major `How +good is the day!' and her good night drops +into the minor third, and says pensively `How +sweet is the night!'" + +"Nay, Ruth, I don't understand all that; +but I do understand the voice. It goes straight +to my heart." + +"And to my heart also, Edward. I think +too there is a measured music, a central time +and tune, in every life. Quick, melodious natures +like Ethel's never wander far from their +keynote, and are therefore joyously set; while +slow, irresolute people deviate far, and only +come back after painful dissonances and frequent +changes." + +"You are generally right, Ruth, even where +I cannot follow you. I hope Ethel will be +home for dinner. I like my Sunday dinner +with both of you, and I may bring my mother +back with me." + +Then he said "Good morning" with an intentional +cheerfulness, and Ruth was left +alone with her book. She gave a moment's +thought to the value of good example, and +then with a sigh of content let her eyes rest on +the words Ethel's presence had for awhile +silenced: + +"I am filled with a sense of sweetness and +wonder that such, little things can make a +mortal so exceedingly rich. But I confess that +the chiefest of all my delights is still the +religious." (Theodore Parker.) She read the +words again, then closed her eyes and let the +honey of some sacred memory satisfy her soul. +And in those few minutes of reverie, Ruth +Bayard revealed the keynote of her being. +Wanderings from it, caused by the exigencies +and duties of life, frequently occurred; but +she quickly returned to its central and +controlling harmony; and her serenity and poise +were therefore as natural as was her niece's +joyousness and hope. Nor was her religious +character the result of temperament, or of a +secluded life. Ruth Bayard was a woman of +thought and culture, and wise in the ways of +the world, but not worldly. Her personality +was very attractive, she had a good form, an +agreeable face, speaking gray eyes, and brown +hair, soft and naturally wavy. She was a +distant cousin of Ethel's mother, but had +been brought up with her in the same household, +and always regarded her as a sister, +and Ethel never remembered that she was +only her aunt by adoption. Ten years older +than her niece, she had mothered her with a +wise and loving patience, and her thoughts +never wandered long or far from the girl. +Consequently, she soon found herself wondering +what reason there could be for Dora +Denning's urgency. + +In the meantime Ethel had reached her +friend's residence a new building of unusual +size and very ornate architecture. Liveried +footmen and waiting women bowed her with +mute attention to Miss Denning's suite, an +absolutely private arrangement of five rooms, +marvelously furnished for the young lady's +comfort and delight. The windows of her +parlor overlooked the park, and she was +standing at one of them as Ethel entered the +room. In a passion of welcoming gladness +she turned to her, exclaiming: "I have been +watching for you hours and hours, Ethel. I +have the most wonderful thing to tell you. I +am so happy! So happy! No one was ever +as happy as I am." + +Then Ethel took both her hands, and, as they +stood together, she looked intently at her +friend. Some new charm transfigured her +face; for her dark, gazelle eyes were not more +lambent than her cheeks, though in a different +way; while her black hair in its picturesquely +arranged disorder seemed instinct +with life, and hardly to be restrained. She +was constantly pushing it back, caressing or +arranging it; and her white, slender fingers, +sparkling with jewels, moved among the +crimped and wavy locks, as if there was an +intelligent sympathy between them. + +"How beautiful you are to-day, Dora! +Who has worked wonders on you?" + +"Basil Stanhope. He loves me! He loves +me! He told me so last night--in the sweetest +words that were ever uttered. I shall never +forget one of them--never, as long as I live! +Let us sit down. I want to tell you everything." + +"I am astonished, Dora!" + +"So was mother, and father, and Bryce. +No one suspected our affection. Mother used +to grumble about my going `at all hours' to +St. Jude's church; but that was because St. +Jude's is so very High Church, and mother is +a Methodist Episcopal. It was the morning +and evening prayers she objected to. No one +had any suspicion of the clergyman. Oh, +Ethel, he is so handsome! So good! So +clever! I think every woman in the church +is in love with him." + +"Then if he is a good man, he must be very +unhappy." + +"Of course he is quite ignorant of their +admiration, and therefore quite innocent. I +am the only woman he loves, and he never +even remembers me when he is in the sacred +office. If you could see him come out of the +vestry in his white surplice, with his rapt face +and prophetic eyes. So mystical! So beautiful! +You would not wonder that I worship +him." + +"But I do not understand--how did you +meet him socially?" + +"I met him at Mrs. Taylor's first. Then +he spoke to me one morning as I came out of +church, and the next morning he walked +through the park with me. And after that-- +all was easy enough." + +"I see. What does your father and mother +think--or rather, what do they say?" + +"Father always says what he thinks, and +mother thinks and says what I do. This condition +simplified matters very much. Basil +wrote to father, and yesterday after dinner he +had an interview with him. I expected it, and +was quite prepared for any climax that might +come. I wore my loveliest white frock, and +had lilies of the valley in my hair and on my +breast; and father called me `his little angel' +and piously wondered `how I could be his +daughter.' All dinner time I tried to be angelic, +and after dinner I sang `Little Boy +Blue' and some of the songs he loves; and I +felt, when Basil's card came in, that I had +prepared the proper atmosphere for the interview." + +"You are really very clever, Dora." + +"I tried to continue singing and playing, +but I could not; the notes all ran together, the +words were lost. I went to mother's side and +put my hand in hers, and she said softly: `I +can hear your father storming a little, but he +will settle down the quicker for it. I dare +say he will bring Mr. Stanhope in here before +long." + +"Did he?" + +"No. That was Bryce's fault. How Bryce +happened to be in the house at that hour, I +cannot imagine; but it seems to be natural for +him to drop into any interview where he can +make trouble. However, it turned out all for +the best, for when mother heard Bryce's voice +above all the other sounds, she said, `Come +Dora, we shall have to interfere now.' Then +I was delighted. I was angelically dressed, +and I felt equal to the interview." + +"Do you really mean that you joined the +three quarreling men?" + +"Of course. Mother was quite calm--calm +enough to freeze a tempest--but she gave +father a look he comprehended. Then she +shook hands with Basil, and would have made +some remark to Bryce, but with his usual +impertinence he took the initiative, and told he: +very authoritatively to `retire and take me +with her'--calling me that `demure little +flirt' in a tone that was very offensive. You +should have seen father blaze into anger at his +words. He told Bryce to remember that `Mr. +Ben Denning owned the house, and that Bryce +had four or five rooms in it by his courtesy.' +He said also that the `ladies present were +Mr. Ben Denning's wife and daughter, and +that it was impertinent in him to order them +out of his parlor, where they were always +welcome.' Bryce was white with passion, +but he answered in his affected way--`Sir, +that sly girl with her pretended piety and +her sneak of a lover is my sister, and I shall +not permit her to disgrace my family without +making a protest.'" + +"And then?" + +"I began to cry, and I put my arms around +father's neck and said he must defend me; +that I was not `sly,' and Basil was not `a +sneak,' and father kissed me, and said he +would settle with any man, and every man, +who presumed to call me either sly or a flirt." + +"I think Mr. Denning acted beautifully. +What did Bryce say?" + +"He turned to Basil, and said: `Mr. Stanhope, +if you are not a cad, you will leave the +house. You have no right to intrude yourself +into family affairs and family quarrels.' +Basil had seated mother, and was standing +with one hand on the back of her chair, and +he did not answer Bryce--there was no need, +father answered quick enough. He said Mr. +Stanhope had asked to become one of the family, +and for his part he would welcome him +freely; and then he asked mother if she was +of his mind, and mother smiled and reached +her hand backward to Basil. Then father +kissed me again, and somehow Basil's arm +was round me, and I know I looked lovely-- +almost like a bride! Oh, Ethel, it was just +heavenly!" + +"I am sure it was. Did Bryce leave the +room then?" + +"Yes; he went out in a passion, declaring +he would never notice me again. This morning +at breakfast I said I was sorry Bryce felt +so hurt, but father was sure Bryce would +find plenty of consolation in the fact that his +disapproval of my choice would excuse him +from giving me a wedding present. You +know Bryce is a mean little miser!" + +"On the contrary, I thought he was very; +luxurious and extravagant." + +"Where Bryce is concerned, yes; toward +everyone else his conduct is too mean to +consider. Why, father makes him an allowance +of $20,000 a year and he empties father's +cigar boxes whenever he can do so without----" + +"Let us talk about Mr. Stanhope he is far +more interesting. When are you going to +marry him?" + +"In the Spring. Father is going to give +me some money and I have the fortune Grandmother +Cahill left me. It has been well invested, +and father told me this morning I +was a fairly rich little woman. Basil has +some private fortune, also his stipend--we +shall do very well. Basil's family is one of +the finest among the old Boston aristocrats, +and he is closely connected with the English +Stanhopes, who rank with the greatest of the +nobility." + +"I wish Americans would learn to rely on +their own nobility. I am tired of their everlasting +attempts to graft on some English +noble family. No matter how great or clever +a man may be, you are sure to read of his +descent from some Scottish chief or English +earl." + +"They can't help their descent, Ethel." + +"They need not pin all they have done on +to it. Often father frets me in the same way. +If he wins a difficult case, he does it naturally, +because he is a Rawdon. He is handsome, +gentlemanly, honorable, even a perfect horseman, +all because, being a Rawdon, he was by +nature and inheritance compelled to such perfection. +It is very provoking, Dora, and if I +were you I would not allow Basil to begin a +song about `the English Stanhopes.' Aunt +Ruth and I get very tired often of the English +Rawdons, and are really thankful for the separating +Atlantic." + +"I don't think I shall feel in that way, +Ethel. I like the nobility; so does father, he +says the Dennings are a fine old family." + +"Why talk of genealogies when there is +such a man as Basil Stanhope to consider? +Let us grant him perfection and agree that +he is to marry you in the Spring; well then, +there is the ceremony, and the wedding garments! +Of course it is to be a church wedding?" + +"We shall be married in Basil's own +church. I can hardly eat or sleep for thinking +of the joy and the triumph of it! There +will be women there ready to eat their hearts +with envy--I believe indeed, Ethel, that every +woman in the church is in love with Basil." + +"You have said that before, and I am sure +you are wrong. A great many of them are +married and are in love with their own husbands; +and the kind of girls who go to St. +Jude's are not the kind who marry clergymen. +Mr. Stanhope's whole income would hardly +buy their gloves and parasols." + +"I don't think you are pleased that I am +going to marry. You must not be jealous of +Basil. I shall love you just the same." + +"Under no conditions, Dora, would I allow +jealousy to trouble my life. All the same, you +will not love me after your marriage as you +have loved me in the past. I shall not expect +it." + +Passionate denials of this assertion, reminiscences +of the past, assurances for the future +followed, and Ethel accepted them without +dispute and without faith. But she understood +that the mere circumstance of her +engagement was all that Dora could manage +at present; and that the details of the marriage +merged themselves constantly in the +wonderful fact that Basil Stanhope loved +her, and that some time, not far off, she was +going to be his wife. This joyful certainty +filled her heart and her comprehension, and +she had a natural reluctance to subject it to +the details of the social and religious +ceremonies necessary, Such things permitted +others to participate in her joy, and she +resented the idea. For a time she wished to +keep her lover in a world where no other +thought might trouble the thought of Dora. + +Ethel understood her friend's mood, and +was rather relieved when her carriage arrived. +She felt that her presence was preventing +Dora's absolute surrender of herself +to thoughts of her lover, and all the way +home she marveled at the girl's infatuation, +and wondered if it would be possible for her +to fall into such a dotage of love for any +man. She answered this query positively-- +"No, if I should lose my heart, I shall not +therefore lose my head"--and then, before +she could finish assuring herself of her +determinate wisdom, some mocking lines she +had often quoted to love-sick girls went laughing +through her memory-- + + "O Woman! Woman! O our frail, frail sex! + No wonder tragedies are made from us! + Always the same--nothing but loves and cradles." + + +She found Ruth Bayard dressed for dinner, +but her father was not present. That +was satisfactory, for he was always a little +impatient when the talk was of lovers and +weddings; and just then this topic was uppermost +in Ethel's mind. + +"Ruth," she said, "Dora is engaged," +and then in a few sentences she told the little +romance Dora had lived for the past year, +and its happy culmination. "Setting money +aside, I think he will make a very suitable +husband. What do you think, Ruth?" + +"From what I know of Mr. Stanhope, I +should doubt it. I am sure he will put his +duties before every earthly thing, and I am +sure Dora will object to that. Then I wonder +if Dora is made on a pattern large enough +to be the moneyed partner in matrimony. I +should think Mr. Stanhope was a proud +man." + +"Dora says he is connected with the English +noble family of Stanhopes." + +"We shall certainly have all the connections +of the English nobility in America very +soon now--but why does he marry Dora? Is +it her money?" + +"I think not. I have heard from various +sources some fine things of Basil Stanhope. +There are many richer girls than Dora in St. +Jude's. I dare say some one of them would +have married him." + +"You are mistaken. Do you think Margery +Starey, Jane Lewes, or any of the girls +of their order would marry a man with a few +thousands a year? And to marry for love is +beyond the frontiers of such women's intelligence. +In their creed a husband is a banker, +not a man to be loved and cared for. You +know how much of a banker Mr. Stanhope +could be." + +"Bryce Denning is very angry at what he +evidently considers his sister's mesalliance." + +"If Mr. Stanhope is connected with the +English Stanhopes, the mesalliance must be +laid to his charge." + +"Indeed the Dennings have some pretenses +to good lineage, and Bryce spoke of his sister +`disgracing his family by her contemplated +marriage.'" + +"His family! My dear Ethel, his grandfather +was a manufacturer of tin tacks. And +now that we have got as far away as the +Denning's grandfather, suppose we drop the +subject." + +"Content; I am a little tired of the clan +Denning--that is their original name Dora +says. I will go now and dress for dinner." + +Then Ruth rose and looked inquisitively +around the room. It was as she wished it to +be--the very expression of elegant comfort +--warm and light, and holding the scent of +roses: a place of deep, large chairs with no +odds and ends to worry about, a room to +lounge and chat in, and where the last touch +of perfect home freedom was given by a big +mastiff who, having heard the door-bell ring, +strolled in to see who had called. + + + +CHAPTER II + +DURING dinner both Ruth and Ethel were +aware of some sub-interest in the Judge's +manner; his absent-mindedness was unusual, +and once Ruth saw a faint smile that nothing +evident could have induced. Unconsciously +also he set a tone of constraint and hurry; +the meal was not loitered over, the conversation +flagged, and all rose from the table +with a sense of relief; perhaps, indeed, with +a feeling of expectation. + +They entered the parlor together, and the +mastiff rose to meet them, asking permission +to remain with the little coaxing push of his +nose which brought the ready answer: + +"Certainly, Sultan. Make yourself comfortable." + +Then they grouped themselves round the +fire, and the Judge lit his cigar and looked +at Ethel in a way that instantly brought curiosity +to the question: + +"You have a secret, father," she said. +"Is it about grandmother?" + +"It is news rather than a secret, Ethel. +And grandmother has a good deal to do with +it, for it is about her family--the Mostyns." + +"Oh!" + +The tone of Ethel's "Oh!" was not encouraging, +and Ruth's look of interest held +in abeyance was just as chilling. But something +like this attitude had been expected, +and Judge Rawdon was not discouraged by +it; he knew that youth is capable of great and +sudden changes, and that its ability to find +reasonable motives for them is unlimited, so +he calmly continued: + +"You are aware that your grandmother's +name before marriage was Rachel Mostyn?" + +"I have seen it a thousand times at the +bottom of her sampler, father, the one that is +framed and hanging in her morning room-- +Rachel Mostyn, November, Anno Domini, +1827." + +"Very well. She married George Rawdon, +and they came to New York in 1834. +They had a pretty house on the Bowling +Green and lived very happily there. I was +born in 1850, the youngest of their children. +You know that I sign my name Edward M. +Rawdon; it is really Edward Mostyn Rawdon." + +He paused, and Ruth said, "I suppose +Mrs. Rawdon has had some news from her +old home?" + +"She had a letter last night, and I shall +probably receive one to-morrow. Frederick +Mostyn, her grand-nephew, is coming to New +York, and Squire Rawdon, of Rawdon +Manor, writes to recommend the young man +to our hospitality." + +"But you surely do not intend to invite +him here, Edward. I think that would not +do." + +"He is going to the Holland House. But +he is our kinsman, and therefore we must be +hospitable." + +"I have been trying to count the kinship. +It is out of my reckoning," said Ethel. "I +hope at least he is nice and presentable." + +"The Mostyns are a handsome family. +Look at your grandmother. And Squire +Rawdon speaks very well of Mr. Mostyn. +He has taken the right side in politics, and is +likely to make his mark. They were always +great sportsmen, and I dare say this +representative of the family is a good-looking +fellow, well-mannered, and perfectly dressed." + +Ethel laughed. "If his clothes fit him he +will be an English wonder. I have seen lots +of Englishmen; they are all frights as to +trousers and vests. There was Lord Wycomb, +his broadcloths and satins and linen +were marvels in quality, but the make! The +girls hated to be seen walking with him, and +he would walk--`good for the constitution,' +was his explanation for all his peculiarities. +The Caylers were weary to death of them." + +"And yet," said Ruth, "they sang songs +of triumph when Lou Cayler married him." + +"That was a different thing. Lou would +make him get `fits' and stop wearing sloppy, +baggy arrangements. And I do not suppose +the English lord has now a single peculiarity +left, unless it be his constitutional walk-- +that, of course. I have heard English babies +get out of their cradles to take a constitutional." + +During this tirade Ruth had been thinking. +"Edward," she asked, "why does +Squire Rawdon introduce Mr. Mostyn? +Their relationship cannot be worth counting." + +"There you are wrong, Ruth." He spoke +with a little excitement. "Englishmen never +deny matrimonial relationships, if they are +worthy ones. Mostyn and Rawdon are bound +together by many a gold wedding ring; we +reckon such ties relationships. Squire Raw- +don lost his son and his two grandsons a year +ago. Perhaps this young man may eventually +stand in their place. The Squire is nearly +eighty years old; he is the last of the English +Rawdons--at least of our branch of it." + +"You suppose this Mr. Mostyn may become +Squire of Rawdon Manor?" + +"He may, Ruth, but it is not certain. +There is a large mortgage on the Manor." + +"Oh!" + +Both girls made the ejaculation at the same +moment, and in both voices there was the +same curious tone of speculation. It was a +cry after truth apprehended, but not realized. +Mr. Rawdon remained silent; he was debating +with himself the advisability of further +confidence, but he came quickly to the +conclusion that enough had been told for the +present. Turning to Ethel, he said: "I suppose +girls have a code of honor about their +secrets. Is Dora Denning's `extraordinary +news' shut up in it?" + +"Oh, no, father. She is going to be married. +That is all." + +"That is enough. Who is the man?" + +"Reverend Mr. Stanhope." + +"Nonsense!" + +"Positively." + +"I never heard anything more ridiculous. +That saintly young priest! Why, Dora will +be tired to death of him in a month. And he? +Poor fellow!" + +"Why poor fellow? He is very much in +love with her." + +"It is hard to understand. St. Jerome's +love `pale with midnight prayer' would be +more believable than the butterfly Dora. +Goodness, gracious! The idea of that man +being in love! It pulls him down a bit. I +thought he never looked at a woman." + +"Do you know him, father?" + +"As many people know him--by good report. +I know that he is a clergyman who believes +what he preaches. I know a Wall +Street broker who left St. Jude's church +because Mr. Stanhope's sermons on Sunday put +such a fine edge on his conscience that Mondays +were dangerous days for him to do business +on. And whatever Wall Street financiers +think of the Bible personally, they do like a +man who sticks to his colors, and who holds +intact the truth committed to him. Stanhope +does this emphatically; and he is so +well trusted that if he wanted to build a new +church he could get all the money necessary, +from Wall Street men in an hour. And he +is going to marry! Going to marry Dora +Denning! It is `extraordinary news,' indeed!" + +Ethel was a little offended at such unusual +surprise. "I think you don't quite understand +Dora," she said. "It will be Mr. Stanhope's +fault if she is not led in the right way; +for if he only loves and pets her enough he +may do all he wishes with her. I know, I +have both coaxed and ordered her for four +years--sometimes one way is best, and sometimes +the other." + +"How is a man to tell which way to take? +What do her parents think of the marriage?" + +"They are pleased with it." + +"Pleased with it! Then I have nothing +more to say, except that I hope they will not +appeal to me on any question of divorce that +may arise from such an unlikely marriage." + +"They are only lovers yet, Edward," said +Ruth. "It is not fair, or kind, to even think +of divorce." + +"My dear Ruth, the fashionable girl of today +accepts marriage with the provision of +divorce." + +"Dora is hardly one of that set." + +"I hope she may keep out of it, but marriage +will give her many opportunities. Well, +I am sorry for the young priest. He isn't +fit to manage a woman like Dora Denning. +I am afraid he will get the worst of it." + +"I think you are very unkind, father. +Dora is my friend, and I know her. She is +a girl of intense feelings and very affectionate. +And she has dissolved all her life and +mind in Mr. Stanhope's life and mind, just +as a lump of sugar is dissolved in water." + +Ruth laughed. "Can you not find a more +poetic simile, Ethel?" + +"It will do. This is an age of matter; a +material symbol is the proper thing." + +"I am glad to hear she has dissolved her +mind in Stanhope's," said Judge Rawdon. +"Dora's intellect in itself is childish. What +did the man see in her that he should desire +her?" + +"Father, you never can tell how much +brains men like with their beauty. Very +little will do generally. And Dora has beauty +--great beauty; no one can deny that. I +think Dora is giving up a great deal. To +her, at least, marriage is a state of passing +from perfect freedom into the comparative +condition of a slave, giving up her own way +constantly for some one else's way." + +"Well, Ethel, the remedy is in the lady's +hands. She is not forced to marry, and the +slavery that is voluntary is no hardship. +Now, my dear, I have a case to look over, and +you must excuse me to-night. To-morrow +we shall know more concerning Mr. Mostyn, +and it is easier to talk about certainties than +probabilities." + +But if conversation ceased about Mr. Mostyn, +thought did not; for, a couple of hours +afterwards, Ethel tapped at her aunt's door +and said, "Just a moment, Ruth." + +"Yes, dear, what is it?" + +"Did you notice what father said about +the mortgage on Rawdon Manor"' + +"Yes." + +"He seemed to know all about it." + +"I think he does know all about it." + +"Do you think he holds it?" + +"He may do so--it is not unlikely." + +"Oh! Then Mr. Fred Mostyn, if he is to +inherit Rawdon, would like the mortgage removed?" + +"Of course he would." + +"And the way to remove it would be to +marry the daughter of the holder of the +mortgage?" + +"It would be one way." + +"So he is coming to look me over. I am +a matrimonial possibility. How do you like +that idea, Aunt Ruth?" + +"I do not entertain it for a moment. +Mr. Mostyn may not even know of the mortgage. +When men mortgage their estates +they do not make confidences about the matter, +or talk it over with their friends. They +always conceal and hide the transaction. If +your father holds the mortgage, I feel sure +that no one but himself and Squire Rawdon +know anything about it. Don't look at the +wrong side of events, Ethel; be content with +the right side of life's tapestry. Why are +you not asleep? What are you worrying +about?" + +"Nothing, only I have not heard all I +wanted to hear." + +"And perhaps that is good for you." + +"I shall go and see grandmother first thing +in the morning." + +"I would not if I were you. You cannot +make any excuse she will not see through. +Your father will call on Mr. Mostyn to-morrow, +and we shall get unprejudiced information." + +"Oh, I don't know that, Ruth. Father is +intensely American three hundred and sixty- +four days and twenty-three hours in a year, +and then in the odd hour he will flare up +Yorkshire like a conflagration." + +"English, you mean?" + +"No. Yorkshire IS England to grandmother +and father. They don't think anything +much of the other counties, and people +from them are just respectable foreigners. +You may depend upon it, whatever grandmother +says of Mr. Fred Mostyn, father will +believe it, too." + +"Your father always believes whatever +your grandmother says. Good night, dear." + +"Good night. I think I shall go to grandmother +in the morning. I know how to +manage her. I shall meet her squarely with +the truth, and acknowledge that I am dying +with curiosity about Mr. Mostyn." + +"And she will tease and lecture you, say +you are `not sweetheart high yet, only a little +maid,' and so on. Far better go and talk with +Dora. To-morrow she will need you, I am +sure. Ethel, I am very sleepy. Good night +again, dear." + +"Good night!" Then with a sudden animation, +"I know what to do, I shall tell +grandmother about Dora's marriage. It is +all plain enough now. Good night, Ruth." +And this good night, though dropping sweetly +into the minor third, had yet on its final inflection +something of the pleasant hopefulness +of its major key--it expressed anticipation +and satisfaction. + +What happened in the night session she +could not tell, but she awoke with a positive +disinclination to ask a question about Mr. +Mostyn. "I have received orders from some +one," she said to Ruth; "I simply do not +care whether I ever see or hear of the man +again. I am going to Dora, and I may not +come home until late. You know they will +depend upon me for every suggestion." + +In fact, Ethel did not return home until the +following day, for a snowstorm came up in +the afternoon, and the girl was weary with +planning and writing, and well inclined to +eat with Dora the delicate little dinner served +to them in Dora's private parlor. Then +about nine o'clock Mr. Stanhope called, and +Ethel found it pleasant enough to watch the +lovers and listen to Mrs. Denning's opinions +of what had been already planned. And the +next day she seemed to be so absolutely necessary +to the movement of the marriage preparations, +that it was nearly dark before she +was permitted to return home. + +It was but a short walk between the two +houses, and Ethel was resolved to have the +refreshment of the exercise. And how good +it was to feel the pinch of the frost and the +gust of the north wind, and after it to come +to the happy portal of home, and the familiar +atmosphere of the cheerful hall, and then to +peep into the firelit room in which Ruth lay +dreaming in the dusky shadows. + +"Ruth, darling!" + +"Ethel! I have just sent for you to come +home." Then she rose and took Ethel in her +arms. "How delightfully cold you are! +And what rosy cheeks! Do you know that +we have a little dinner party?" + +"Mr. Mostyn?" + +"Yes, and your grandmother, and perhaps +Dr. Fisher--the Doctor is not certain." + +"And I see that you are already dressed. +How handsome you look! That black lace +dress, with the dull gold ornaments, is all +right." + +"I felt as if jewels would be overdress for +a family dinner." + +"Yes, but jewels always snub men so completely. +It is not altogether that they represent +money; they give an air of royalty, +and a woman without jewels is like an uncrowned +queen--she does not get the homage. +I can't account for it, but there it is. I shall +wear my sapphire necklace. What did father +say about our new kinsman?" + +"Very little. It was impossible to judge +from his words what he thought. I fancied +that he might have been a little disappointed." + +"I should not wonder. We shall see." + +"You will be dressed in an hour?" + +"In less time. Shall I wear white or +blue?" + +"Pale blue and white flowers. There are +some white violets in the library. I have a +red rose. We shall contrast each other very +well." + +"What is it all about? Do we really care +how we look in the eyes of this Mr. Mostyn?" + +"Of course we care. We should not be +women if we did not care. We must make +some sort of an impression, and naturally +we prefer that it should be a pleasant one." + +"If we consider the mortgage----" + +"Nonsense! The mortgage is not in it." + +"Good-by. Tell Mattie to bring me a cup +of tea upstairs. I will be dressed in an hour." + +The tea was brought and drank, and Ethel +fell asleep while her maid prepared every +item for her toilet. Then she spoke to her +mistress, and Ethel awakened, as she always +did, with a smile; nature's surest sign of a +radically sweet temper. And everything went +in accord with the smile; her hair fell naturally +into its most becoming waves, her dress +into its most graceful folds; the sapphire +necklace matched the blue of her happy eyes, +the roses of youth were on her cheeks, and +white violets on her breast. She felt her own +beauty and was glad of it, and with a laughing +word of pleasure went down to the parlor. + +Madam Rawdon was standing before the +fire, but when she heard the door open she +turned her face toward it. + +"Come here, Ethel Rawdon," she said, +"and let me have a look at you." And Ethel +went to her side, laid her hand lightly on the +old lady's shoulder and kissed her cheek. +"You do look middling well," she continued, +"and your dress is about as it should be. I +like a girl to dress like a girl--still, the +sapphires. Are they necessary?" + +"You would not say corals, would you, +grandmother? I have those you gave me +when I was three years old." + +"Keep your wit, my dear, for this evening. +I should not wonder but you might need +it. Fred Mostyn is rather better than I expected. +It was a great pleasure to see him. +It was like a bit of my own youth back again. +When you are a very old woman there are +few things sweeter, Ethel." + +"But you are not an old woman, grandmother." + +Nor was she. In spite of her seventy-five +years she stood erect at the side of her grand- +daughter. Her abundant hair was partly +gray, but the gray mingled with the little oval +of costly lace that lay upon it, and the effect +was soft and fair as powdering. She had +been very handsome, and her beauty lingered +as the beauty of some flowers linger, in fainter +tints and in less firm outlines; for she had +never fallen from that "grace of God vouchsafed +to children," and therefore she had +kept not only the enthusiasms of her youth, +but that sweet promise of the "times of +restitution" when the child shall die one +hundred years old, because the child-heart +shall be kept in all its freshness and trust. +Yes, in Rachel Rawdon's heart the well- +springs of love and life lay too deep for the +frosts of age to touch. She would be eternally +young before she grew old. + +She sat down as Ethel spoke, and drew the +girl to her side. "I hear your friend is going +to marry," she said. + +"Dora? Yes." + +"Are you sorry?" + +"Perhaps not. Dora has been a care to +me for four years. I hope her husband may +manage her as well as I have done." + +"Are you afraid he will not?" + +"I cannot tell, grandmother. I see all +Dora's faults. Mr. Stanhope is certain that +she has no faults. Hitherto she has had her +own way in everything. Excepting myself, +no one has ventured to contradict her. But, +then, Dora is over head and ears in love, and +love, it is said, makes all things easy to bear +and to do." + +"One thing, girls, amazes me--it is how +readily women go to church and promise to +love, honor, and obey their husbands, when +they never intend to do anything of the kind." + +"There is a still more amazing thing, +Madam," answered Ruth; "that is that +men should be so foolish as to think, or hope, +they perhaps might do so." + +"Old-fashioned women used to manage it +some way or other, Ruth. But the old-fashioned +woman was a very soft-hearted creature, +and, maybe, it was just as well that she +was." + +"But Woman's Dark Ages are nearly +over, Madam; and is not the New Woman a +great improvement on the Old Woman?" + +"I haven't made up my mind yet, Ruth, +about the New Woman. I notice one thing +that a few of the new kind have got into their +pretty heads, and that is, that they ought to +have been men; and they have followed up +that idea so far that there is now very little +difference in their looks, and still less in their +walk; they go stamping along with the step +of an athlete and the stride of a peasant on +fresh plowed fields. It is the most hideous +of walks imaginable. The Grecian bend, +which you cannot remember, but may have +heard of, was a lackadaisical, vulgar walking +fad, but it was grace itself compared with the +hideous stride which the New Woman has acquired +on the golf links or somewhere else." + +"But men stamp and stride in the same +way, grandmother." + +"A long stride suits a man's anatomy well +enough; it does not suit a woman's--she feels +every stride she takes, I'll warrant her." + +"If she plays golf----" + +"My dear Ethel, there is no need for her to +play golf. It is a man's game and was played +for centuries by men only. In Scotland, the +home of golf, it was not thought nice for +women to even go to the links, because of the +awful language they were likely to hear." + +"Then, grandmother, is it not well for +ladies to play golf if it keeps men from using +`awful language' to each other)" + +"God love you, child! Men will think what +they dare not speak." + +"If we could only have some new men!" +sighed Ethel. "The lover of to-day is just +what a girl can pick up; he has no wit and no +wisdom and no illusions. He talks of his muscles +and smells of cigarettes--perhaps of +whisky"--and at these words, Judge Rawdon, +accompanied by Mr. Fred Mostyn, entered +the room. + +The introductions slipped over easily, they +hardly seemed to be necessary, and the young +man took the chair offered as naturally as if +he had sat by the hearth all his life. There +was no pause and no embarrassment and no +useless polite platitudes; and Ethel's first +feeling about her kinsman was one of admiration +for the perfect ease and almost instinctive +at-homeness with which he took his place. +He had come to his own and his own had received +him; that was the situation, a very +pleasant one, which he accepted with the +smiling trust that was at once the most perfect +and polite of acknowledgments. + +"So you do not enjoy traveling?" said +Judge Rawdon as if continuing a conversation. + +"I think it the most painful way of taking +pleasure, sir--that is the actual transit. And +sleeping cars and electric-lighted steamers +and hotels do not mitigate the suffering. If +Dante was writing now he might depict a constant +round of personally conducted tours in +Purgatory. I should think the punishment +adequate for any offense. But I like arriving +at places. New York has given me a lot of +new sensations to-day, and I have forgotten +the transit troubles already." + +He talked well and temperately, and yet +Ethel could not avoid the conclusion that he +was a man of positive character and +uncompromising prejudices. And she also felt a +little disappointed in his personality, which +contradicted her ideal of a Yorkshire squire. +For he was small and slender in stature, and +his face was keen and thin, from the high +cheek bones to the sharp point of the clean- +shaven chin. Yet it was an interesting face, +for the brows were broad and the eyes bright +and glancing. That his nature held the op- +posite of his qualities was evident from the +mouth, which was composed and discreet and +generally clothed with a frank smile, negatived +by the deep, sonorous voice which belongs +to the indiscreet and quarrelsome. His +dress was perfect. Ethel could find no fault +in it, except the monocle which he did not use +once during the evening, and which she therefore +decided was a quite idle and unhandsome +adjunct. + +One feature of his character was definite-- +he was a home-loving man. He liked the society +of women with whom he could be familiar, +and he preferred the company of books +and music to fashionable social functions. +This pleasant habit of domesticity was illustrated +during the evening by an accidental incident-- +a noisy, mechanical street organ +stopped before the windows, and in a blatant +manner began its performance. Conversation +was paralyzed by the intrusion and when +it was removed Judge Rawdon said: "What +a democratic, leveling, aggressive thing music +is! It insists on being heard. It is always +in the way, it thrusts itself upon you, whether +you want it or not. Now art is different. +You go to see pictures when you wish to." + +Mostyn did not notice the criticism on +music itself, but added in a soft, disapproving +way: "That man has no music in him. Do you +know that was one of Mendelssohn's delicious +dreams. This is how it should have been rendered," +and he went impulsively to the piano +and then the sweet monotonous cadences and +melodious reveries slipped from his long white +fingers till the whole room was permeated +with a delicious sense of moonlit solitude and +conversation was stilled in its languor. The +young man had played his own dismissal, but +it was an effective one, and he complimented +himself on his readiness to seize opportunities +for display, and on his genius in satisfying +them. + +"I think I astonished them a little," he +mused, "and I wonder what that pretty, +cousin of mine thought of the music and the +musician. I fancy we shall be good friends; +she is proud--that is no fault; and she has +very decided opinions--which might be a +great fault; but I think I rather astonished +them." + +To such reflections he stepped rather pompously +down the avenue, not at all influenced by +any premonition that his satisfactory feelings +might be imperfectly shared. Yet silence +was the first result of his departure. Judge +Rawdon took out his pocketbook and began +to study its entries. Ruth Bayard rose and +closed the piano. Ethel lifted a magazine, +while it was Madam who finally asked in an +impatient tone: + +"What do you think of Frederick? I suppose, +Edward, you have an opinion. Isn't he +a very clever man?" + +"I should not wonder if he were, mother, +clever to a fault." + +"I never heard a young man talk better." + +"He talked a great deal, but then, you +know, he was not on his oath." + +"I'll warrant every word he said." + +"Your warrant is fine surety, mother, but +I am not bound to believe all I hear. You +women can please yourselves." + +And with these words he left the women to +find out, if they could, what manner of man +their newly-found kinsman might be. + +* * * * * * * + + + +CHAPTER III + +ONE of the most comfortable things about +Frederick Mostyn was his almost boyish delight +in the new life which New York opened +to him. Every phase of it was so fresh, so +unusual, that his Yorkshire existence at Mostyn +Hall gave him no precedents and no experiences +by which to measure events. The +simplest things were surprising or interesting. +He was never weary of taking those exciting +"lifts" to the top of twenty-three story buildings +and admiring the wonderful views such +altitudes gave him. He did not perhaps comprehend +how much he was influenced by the +friction of two million wills and interests; did +not realize how they evoked an electric condition +that got behind the foreground of existence +and stirred something more at the roots +of his being than any previous experience had +ever done. And this feeling was especially +entrancing when he saw the great city and +majestic river lying at his feet in the white, +uncanny light of electricity, all its color gone, +its breath cold, its life strangely remote and +quiet, men moving like shadows, and sounds +hollow and faint and far off, as if they came +from a distant world. It gave him a sense of +dreamland quite as much as that of reality. +The Yorkshire moors and words grew dull and +dreary in his memory; even the thought of the +hunting field could not lure his desire. New +York was full of marvelous novelties; its +daily routine, even in the hotel and on the +streets, gripped his heart and his imagination; +and he confessed to himself that New York +was life at first hand; fresh drawn, its very +foam sparkling and intoxicating. He walked +from the Park to the Battery and examined +all that caught his eye. He had a history of +the city and sought out every historical site; +he even went over to Weehawken, and did his +best to locate the spot where Burr and Hamilton +fought. He admired Hamilton, but +after reading all about the two men, gave his +sympathy to Burr, "a clever, unlucky little +chap," he said. "Why do clever men hate +each other?" and then he smiled queerly as +he remembered political enemies of great men +in his own day and his own country; and concluded +that "it was their nature to do so." + +But in these outside enthusiasms he did not +forget his personal relations. It took him but +a few days to domesticate himself in both the +Rawdon houses. When the weather drove +him off the streets, he found a pleasant refuge +either with Madam or with Ethel and Miss +Bayard. Ethel he saw less frequently than he +liked; she was nearly always with Dora Denning, +but with Ruth Bayard he contracted a +very pleasant friendship. He told her all his +adventures and found her more sympathetic +than Madam ever pretended to be. Madam +thought him provincial in his tastes, and was +better pleased to hear that he had a visiting +entry at two good clubs, and had hired a +motor ear, and was learning how to manage +it. Then she told herself that if he was good +to her, she would buy him one to be proud of +before he returned to Yorkshire. + +It was at the Elite Club Bryce Denning +first saw him. He came in with Shaw McLaren, +a young man whose acquaintance was +considered as most definitely satisfactory. +Vainly Bryce Denning had striven to obtain +any notice whatever from McLaren, whose +exclusiveness was proverbial. Who then was this +stranger he appeared so anxious to entertain? +His look of supreme satisfaction, his high- +bred air, and peculiar intonation quickly satisfied +Bryce as to his nationality. + +"English, of course," he reflected, "and +probably one of the aristocrats that Shaw +meets at his recently ennobled sister's place. +He is forever bragging about them. I must +find out who Shaw's last British lion is," and +just as he arrived at this decision the person +appeared who could satisfy him. + +"That man!" was the reply to the inevitable +question--"why, he is some relative +of the old lady Rawdon. He is staying at the +Holland House, but spends his time with the +Rawdons, old and young; the young one is a +beauty, you know." + +"Do you think so? She is a good deal at +our house. I suppose the fellow has some +pretentions. Judge Rawdon will be a man hard +to satisfy with a son-in-law." + +"I fancy his daughter will take that subject +in her own hand. She looks like a girl of +spirit; and this man is not as handsome as +most Englishmen." + +"Not if you judge him by bulk, but women +want more than mere bulk; he has an air of +breeding you can't mistake, and he looks +clever." + +"His name is Mostyn. I have heard him +spoken of. Would you like to know him?" + +"I could live without that honor"--then +Bryce turned the conversation upon a recent +horse sale, and a few moments later was sauntering +up the avenue. He was now resolved to +make up his quarrel with Dora. Through +Dora he could manage to meet Mostyn socially, +and he smiled in anticipation of that +proud moment when he should parade in his +own friendly leash McLaren's new British +lion. Besides, the introduction to Mr. Mostyn +might, if judiciously managed, promote his +own acquaintance with Shaw McLaren, a sequence +to be much desired; an end he had +persistently looked for. + +He went straight to his sister's apartments +and touched the bell quite gently. Her maid +opened the door and looked annoyed and uncertain. +She knew all about the cruelly +wicked opposition of Miss Denning's brother +to that nice young man, Basil Stanhope; and +also the general attitude of the Denning +household, which was a comprehensive disapproval +of all that Mr. Bryce said and did. + +Dora had, however, talked all her anger +away; she wished now to be friends with her +brother. She knew that his absence from her +wedding would cause unpleasant notice, and +she had other reasons, purely selfish, all +emphasizing the advantages of a reconciliation. +So she went to meet Bryce with a pretty, +pathetic air of injury patiently endured, and +when Bryce put out his hands and said, "Forgive +me, Dodo! I cannot bear your anger any +longer!" she was quite ready for the next act, +which was to lay her pretty head on his shoulder +and murmur, "I am not angry, Bryce--I +am grieved, dear." + +"I know, Dodo--forgive me! It was all +my fault. I think I was jealous of you; it +was hard to find that you loved a stranger +better than you loved me. Kiss me, and be +my own sweet, beautiful sister again. I shall +try to like all the people you like--for your +sake, you know." + +Then Dora was charming. She sat and +talked and planned and told him all that had +been done and all that was yet to do. And +Bryce never once named either Ethel or Mr. +Mostyn. He knew Dora was a shrewd little +woman, and that he would have to be very +careful in introducing the subject of Mr. +Mostyn, or else she would be sure to reach the +central truth of his submission to her. But, +somehow, things happen for those who are +content to leave their desires to contingencies +and accidentals. The next morning he breakfasted +with the family and felt himself repaid +for his concession to Dora by the evident +pleasure their renewed affection gave his father +and mother; and though the elder Denning +made no remark in the renewed family +solidarity, Bryce anticipated many little +favors and accommodations from his father's +satisfaction. + +After breakfast he sat down, lit his cigar +and waited. Both his mother and Dora had +much to tell him, and he listened, and gave +them such excellent advice that they were +compelled to regret the arrangements already +made had lacked the benefit of his counsels. + +"But you had Ethel Rawdon," he said. +"I thought she was everybody rolled into +one." + +"Oh, Ethel doesn't know as much as she +thinks she does," said Mrs. Denning. "I +don't agree with lots of things she advises." + +"Then take my advice, mother." + +"Oh, Bryce, it is the best of all." + +"Bryce does not know about dress and such +things, mother. Ethel finds out what she does +not know. Bryce cannot go to modistes and +milliners with me." + +"Well, Ethel does not pay as much atten- +tion as she might--she is always going somewhere +or other with that Englishman, that she +says is a relative--for my part, I doubt it." + +"Oh, mother!" + +"Girls will say anything, Dora, to hide a +love affair. Why does she never bring him +here to call?" + +"Because I asked her not. I do not want +to make new friends, especially English ones, +now. I am so busy all day, and of course my +evenings belong to Basil." + +"Yes, and there is no one to talk to me. +Ethel and the Englishman would pass an hour +or two very nicely, and your father is very +fond of foreigners. I think you ought to ask +Ethel to introduce him to us; then we could +have a little dinner for him and invite him to +our opera box--don't you agree with me, +Bryce?" + +"If Dora does. Of course, at this time, +Dora's wishes and engagements are the most +important. I have seen the young man at the +club with Shaw McLaren and about town with +Judge Rawdon and others. He seems a nice +little fellow. Jack Lacy wanted to introduce +me to him yesterday, but I told him I could +live without the honor. Of course, if Dora +feels like having him here that is a very dif- +ferent matter. He is certainly distinguished +looking, and would give an air to the wedding." + +"Is he handsome, Bryce?" + +"Yes--and no. Women would rave about +him; men would think him finical and dandified. +He looks as if he were the happiest fellow +in the world--in fact, he looked to me so +provokingly happy that I disliked him; but +now that Dodo is my little sister again, I can +be happy enough to envy no one." + +Then Dora slipped her hand into her brother's +hand, and Bryce knew that he might +take his way to his little office in William +Street, the advent of Mr. Mostyn into his life +being now as certain as anything in this +questionable, fluctuating world could be. As he +was sauntering down the avenue he met Ethel +and he turned and walked back with her to +the Denning house. He was so good-natured +and so good-humored that Ethel could not +avoid an inquisitive look at the usually glum +young man, and he caught it with a laugh and +said, "I suppose you wonder what is the matter +with me, Miss Rawdon?" + +"You look more than usually happy. If I +suppose you have found a wife or a fortune, +shall I be wrong?" + +"You come near the truth; I have found a +sister. Do you know I am very fond of Dora +and we have made up our quarrel?" + +Then Ethel looked at him again. She did +not believe him. She was sure that Dora was +not the only evoker of the unbounded satisfaction +in Bryce Denning's face and manner. +But she let the reason pass; she had no likely +arguments to use against it. And that day +Mrs. Denning, with a slight air of injury, +opened the subject of Mr. Mostyn's introduction +to them. She thought Ethel had hardly +treated the Dennings fairly. Everyone was +wondering they had not met him. Of course, +she knew they were not aristocrats and she +supposed Ethel was ashamed of them, but, for +her part, she thought they were as good as +most people, and if it came to money, they +could put down dollar for dollar with any +multi-millionaire in America, or England +either, for that matter. + +When the reproach took this tone there +seemed to be only one thing for Ethel to say or +to do; but that one thing was exactly what she +did not say or do. She took up Mrs. Denning's +reproach and complained that "her +relative and friend had been purposely and +definitely ignored. Dora had told her plainly +she did not wish to make Mr. Mostyn's +acquaintance; and, in accord with this feeling, +no one in the Denning family had called on +Mr. Mostyn, or shown him the least courtesy. +She thought the whole Rawdon family had +the best of reasons for feeling hurt at the +neglect." + +This view of the case had not entered Mrs. +Denning's mind. She was quickly sorry and +apologetic for Dora's selfishness and her own +thoughtlessness, and Ethel was not difficult to +pacify. There was then no duty so imperative +as the arrangement of a little dinner for +Mr. Mostyn. "We will make it quite a family +affair," said Mrs. Denning, "then we can +go to the opera afterwards. Shall I call on +Mr. Mostyn at the Holland House?" she +asked anxiously. + +"I will ask Bryce to call," said Dora. +"Bryce will do anything to please me now, +mother." + +In this way, Bryce Denning's desires were +all arranged for him, and that evening Dora +made her request. Bryce heard it with a pronounced +pout of his lips, but finally told Dora +she was "irresistible," and as his time for +pleasing her was nearly out, he would even +call on the Englishman at her request. + +"Mind!" he added, "I think he is as proud +as Lucifer, and I may get nothing for my civility +but the excuse of a previous engagement." + +But Bryce Denning expected much more +than this, and he got all that he expected. +The young men had a common ground to meet +on, and they quickly became as intimate as +ever Frederick Mostyn permitted himself to +be with a stranger. Bryce could hardly help +catching enthusiasm from Mostyn on the subject +of New York, and he was able to show +his new acquaintance phases of life in the +marvelous city which were of the greatest +interest to the inquisitive Yorkshire squire-- +Chinese theaters and opium dives; German, +Italian, Spanish, Jewish, French cities sheltering +themselves within the great arms of the +great American city; queer restaurants, where +he could eat of the national dishes of every +civilized country under the sun; places of +amusement, legal and illegal, and the vast +under side of the evident life--all the uncared +for toiling of the thousands who work through +the midnight hours. In these excursions the +young men became in a way familiar, though +neither of them ever told the other the real +feelings of their hearts or the real aim of +their lives. + +The proposed dinner took place ten days +after its suggestion. There was nothing remarkable +in the function itself; all millionaires +have the same delicacies and the same +wines, and serve these things with precisely +the same ceremonies. And, as a general thing, +the company follow rigidly ordained laws of +conversation. Stories about public people, remarks +about the weather and the opera, are in +order; but original ideas or decided opinions +are unpardonable social errors. Yet even +these commonplace events may contain some +element that shall unexpectedly cut a life in +two, and so change its aims and desires as to +virtually create a new character. It was Frederick +Mostyn who in this instance underwent +this great personal change; a change totally +unexpected and for which he was absolutely +unprepared. For the people gathered in Mrs. +Denning's drawing-room were mostly known +to him, and the exceptions did not appear to +possess any remarkable traits, except Basil +Stanhope, who stood thoughtfully at a window, +his pale, lofty beauty wearing an air of +expectation. Mostyn decided that he was naturally +impatient for the presence of his +fiancee, whose delayed entrance he perceived +was also annoying Ethel. Then there was a +slight movement, a sudden silence, and Mostyn +saw Stanhope's face flush and turn magically +radiant. Mechanically he followed his +movement and the next moment his eyes +met Fate, and Love slipped in between. +Dora was there, a fairy-like vision in pale +amber draperies, softened with silk lace. Diamonds +were in her wonderfully waved hair +and round her fair white neck. They clasped +her belt and adorned the instep of her little +amber silk slippers. She held a yellow rose +in her hand, and yellow rosebuds lay among +the lace at her bosom, and Mostyn, stupefied +by her undreamed-of loveliness, saw golden +emanations from the clear pallor of her face. +He felt for a moment or two as if he should +certainly faint; only by a miracle of stubborn +will did he drag his consciousness from that +golden-tinted, sparkling haze of beauty which +had smitten him like an enchantment. Then +the girl was looking at him with her soft, +dark, gazelle eyes; she was even speaking to +him, but what she said, or what reply he made, +he could never by any means remember. Miss +Bayard was to be his companion, and with +some effort and a few indistinct words he gave +her his arm. She asked if he was ill, and when +a shake of the head answered the query, she +covered the few minutes of his disconcertion +with her conversation. He looked at her +gratefully and gathered his personality together. +For Love had come to him like a two- +edged sword, dividing the flesh and the spirit, +and he longed to cry aloud and relieve the +sweet torture of the possession. + +Reaction, however, came quickly, and with +it a wonderful access of all his powers. The +sweet, strong wine of Love went to his brain +like celestial nectar. All the witty, amusing +things he had ever heard came trooping into +his memory, and the dinner was long delayed +by his fine humor, his pleasant anecdotes, and +the laughing thoughts which others caught up +and illustrated in their own way. + +It was a feast full of good things, but its +spirit was not able to bear transition. The +company scattered quickly when it was over +to the opera or theater or to the rest of a quiet +evening at home, for at the end enthusiasm +of any kind has a chilling effect on the feelings. +None of the party understood this result, +and yet all were, in their way, affected +by the sudden fall of mental temperature. +Mr. Denning went to his library and took out +his private ledger, a penitential sort of reading +which he relished after moods of any kind +of enjoyment. Mrs. Denning selected Ethel +Rawdon for her text of disillusion. She +"thought Ethel had been a little jealous of +Dora's dress," and Dora said, "It was one +of her surprises, and Ethel thought she +ought to know everything." "You are too +obedient to Ethel," continued Mrs. Denning +and Dora looked with a charming demureness +at her lover, and said, "She had to be +obedient to some one wiser than herself," and +so slipped her hand into Basil's hand. And +he understood the promise, and with a look +of passionate affection raised the little +jeweled pledge and kissed it. + +Perhaps no one was more affected by this +chill, critical after-hour than Miss Bayard +and Ethel. Mostyn accompanied them home, +but he was depressed, and his courtesy had +the air of an obligation. He said he had a +sudden headache, and was not sorry when the +ladies bid him "good night" on the threshold. +Indeed, he felt that he must have refused +any invitation to lengthen out the +hours with them or anybody. He wanted +one thing, and he wanted that with all his +soul--solitude, that he might fill it with +images of Dora, and with passionate promises +that either by fair means or by foul, by +right or by wrong, he would win the bewitching +woman for his wife. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +"WHAT do you think of the evening, Aunt +Ruth?" Ethel was in her aunt's room, comfortably +wrapped in a pink kimono, when she +asked this question. + +"What do you think of it, Ethel?" + +"I am not sure." + +"The dinner was well served." + +"Yes. Who was the little dark man you +talked with, aunt?" + +"He was a Mr. Marriot, a banker, and a +friend of Bryce Denning's. He is a fresh +addition to society, I think. He had the +word `gold' always on his lips; and he believes +in it as good men believe in God. The +general conversation annoyed him; he could +not understand men being entertained by it." + +"They were, though, for once Jamie Sayer +forgot to talk about his pictures." + +"Is that the name of your escort?" + +"Yes." + +"And is he an artist?" + +"A second-rate one. He is painting +Dora's picture, and is a great favorite of +Mrs. Denning's." + +"A strange, wild-looking man. When I +saw him first he was lying, dislocated, over +his ottoman rather than sitting on it." + +"Oh, that is a part of his affectations. +He is really a childish, self-conscious creature, +with a very decided dash of vulgarity. +He only tries to look strange and wild, and +he would be delighted if he knew you had +thought him so." + +"I was glad to see Claudine Jeffrys. How +slim and graceful she is! And, pray, who is +that Miss Ullman?" + +"A very rich woman. She has Bryce +under consideration. Many other men have +been in the same position, for she is sure they +all want her money and not her. Perhaps +she is right. I saw you talking to her, aunt." + +"For a short time. I did not enjoy her +company. She is so mercilessly realistic, she +takes all the color out of life. Everything +about her, even her speech, is sharp-lined as +the edge of a knife. She could make Bryce's +life very miserable." + +"Perhaps it might turn out the other way. +Bryce Denning has capacities in the same +line. How far apart, how far above every +man there, stood Basil Stanhope!" + +"He is strikingly handsome and graceful, +and I am sure that his luminous serenity does +not arise from apathy. I should say he was +a man of very strong and tender feelings." + +"And he gives all the strength and tenderness +of his feelings to Dora. Men are strange +creatures." + +"Who directed Dora's dress this evening?" + +"Herself or her maid. I had nothing to +do with it. The effect was stunning." + +"Fred thought so. In fact, Fred Hostyn----" + +"Fell in love with her." + +"Exactly. `Fell,' that is the word--fell +prostrate. Usually the lover of to-day walks +very timidly and carefully into the condition, +step by step, and calculating every step before +he takes it. Fred plunged headlong into +the whirling vortex. I am very sorry. It is +a catastrophe." + +"I never witnessed the accident before. I +have heard of men getting wounds and falls, +and developing new faculties in consequence, +but we saw the phenomenon take place this +evening." + +"Love, if it be love, is known in a moment. +man who never saw the sun before would +know it was the sun. In Fred's case it was +an instantaneous, impetuous passion, flaming +up at the sight of such unexpected beauty-- +a passion that will probably fade as rapidly +as it rose." + +"Fred is not that kind of a man, aunt. He +does not like every one and everything, but +whoever or whatever he does like becomes a +lasting part of his life. Even the old chairs +and tables at Mostyn are held as sacred +objects by him, though I have no doubt an +American girl would trundle them off to the +garret. It is the same with the people. He +actually regards the Rawdons as belonging in +some way to the Mostyns; and I do not believe +he has ever been in love before." + +"Nonsense!" + +"He was so surprised by the attack. If +it had been the tenth or twentieth time he +would have taken it more philosophically; +besides, if he had ever loved any woman, he +would have gone on loving her, and we should +have known all about her perfections by this +time." + +"Dora is nearly a married woman, and +Mostyn knows it." + +"Nearly may make all the difference. +When Dora is married he will be compelled +to accept the inevitable and make the best of +it." + +"When Dora is married he will idealize +her, and assure himself that her marriage is +the tragedy of both their lives." + +"Dora will give him no reason to suppose +such a thing. I am sure she will not. She is +too much in love with Mr. Stanhope to notice +any other lover." + +"You are mistaken, Ethel. Swiftly as +Fred was vanquished she noticed it, and many +times--once even while leaning on Mr. Stanhope's +arm--she turned the arrow in the +heart wound with sweet little glances and +smiles, and pretty appeals to the blind adoration +of her new lover. It was, to me, a humiliating +spectacle. How could she do it?" + +"I am sure Dora meant no wrong. It is +so natural for a lovely girl to show off a +little. She will marry and forget Fred Mostyn +lives." + +"And Fred will forget?" + +"Fred will not forget." + +"Then I shall be very sorry for your father +and grandmother." + +"What have they to do with Fred marrying?" + +"A great deal. Fred has been so familiar +and homely the last two or three weeks, that +they have come to look upon him as a future +member of the family. It has been `Cousin +Ethel' and `Aunt Ruth' and even `grandmother' +and `Cousin Fred,' and no objections +have been made to the use of such personal +terms. I think your father hopes for a +closer tie between you and Fred Mostyn than +cousinship." + +"Whatever might have been is over. Do +you imagine I could consent to be the secondary +deity, to come after Dora--Dora of +all the girls I have ever known? The idea is +an insult to my heart and my intelligence. +Nothing on earth could make me submit to +such an indignity." + +"I do not suppose, Ethel, that any wife is +the first object of her husband's love." + +"At least they tell her she is so, swear it +an inch deep; and no woman is fool enough to +look beyond that oath, but when she is sure +that she is a second best! AH! That is not a +position I will ever take in any man's heart +knowingly." + +"Of course, Fred Mostyn will have to +marry." + +"Of course, he will make a duty of the +event. The line of Mostyns must be continued. +England might go to ruin if the Mostyns +perished off the English earth; but, +Aunt Ruth, I count myself worthy of a better +fate than to become a mere branch in the +genealogical tree of the Mostyns. And that +is all Fred Mostyn's wife will ever be to him, +unless he marries Dora." + +"But that very supposition implies tragedy, +and it is most unlikely." + +"Yes, for Dora is a good little thing. She +has never been familiar with vice. She has +even a horror of poor women divorced from +impossible husbands. She believes her marriage +will be watched by the angels, and +recorded in heaven. Basil has instructed her +to regard marriage as a holy sacrament, and +I am sure he does the same." + +"Then why should we forecast evil to their +names? As for Cousin Fred, I dare say he is +comfortably asleep." + +"I am sure he is not. I believe he is +smoking and calling himself names for not +having come to New York last May, when +father first invited him. Had he done so +things might have been different." + +"Yes, they might. When Good Fortune +calls, and the called `will not when they may,' +then, `when they will' Good Fortune has become +Misfortune. Welcome a pleasure or a +gain at once, or don't answer it at all. It was +on this rock, Ethel, the bark that carried my +love went to pieces. I know; yes, I know!" + +"My dear aunt!" + +"It is all right now, dear; but things might +have been that are not. As to Dora, I think +she may be trusted with Basil Stanhope. He +is one of the best and handsomest men I ever +saw, and he has now rights in Dora's love no +one can tamper with. Mostyn is an honorable +man." + +"All right, but-- + + "Love will venture in, + Where he daurna well be seen; + O Love will venture in, + Where Wisdom once has been-- + +and then, aunt, what then?" + + + + +PART SECOND + +PLAYING WITH FIRE + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE next day after lunch Ethel said she +was going to walk down to Gramercy Park +and spend an hour or two with her grandmother, +and "Will you send the carriage for +me at five o'clock?" she asked. + +"Your father has ordered the carriage to +be at the Holland House at five o'clock. It +can call for you first, and then go to the +Holland House. But do not keep your father +waiting. If he is not at the entrance give +your card to the outside porter; he will have +it sent up to Fred's apartments." + +"Then father is calling on Fred? What +for? Is he sick?" + +"Oh, no, business of some kind. I hope +you will have a pleasant walk." + +"There is no doubt of it." + +Indeed, she was radiant with its exhilaration +when she reached Gramercy Park. As +she ran up the steps of the big, old-fashioned +house she saw Madam at the window +picking up some dropped stitches in her knitting. +Madam saw her at the same moment, +and the old face and the young face both alike +kindled with love, as well as with happy anticipation +of coveted intercourse. + +"I am so glad to see you, darling Granny. +I could not wait until to-morrow." + +"And why should you, child? I have been +watching for you all morning. I want to hear +about the Denning dinner. I suppose you +went?" + +"Yes, we went; we had to. Dinners in +strange houses are a common calamity; I +can't expect to be spared what everyone has +to endure." + +"Don't be affected, Ethel. You like going +out to dinner. Of course, you do! It is only +natural, considering." + +"I don't, Granny. I like dances and theaters +and operas, but I don't like dinners. +However, the Denning dinner was a grand +exception. It gave me and the others a sensation." + +"I expected that." + +"It was beautifully ordered. Major-domo +Parkinson saw to that. If he had arranged +it for his late employer, the Duke of Richmond, +it could not have been finer. There +was not a break anywhere." + +"How many were present?" + +"Just a dozen." + +"Mr. Denning and Bryce, of course. +Who were the others?" + +"Mr. Stanhope, of course. Granny, he +wore his clerical dress. It made him look so +remarkable." + +"He did right. A clergyman ought to look +different from other men. I do not believe +Basil Stanhope, having assumed the dress of +a servant of God, would put it off one hour +for any social exigency. Why should he? It +is a grander attire than any military or naval +uniform, and no court dress is comparable, +for it is the court dress of the King of kings." + +"All right, dear Granny; you always make +things clear to me, yet I meet lots of clergymen +in evening dress." + +"Then they ought not to be clergymen. +They ought not to wear coats in which they +can hold any kind of opinions. Who was your +companion?" + +"Jamie Sayer." + +"I never heard of the man." + +"He is an artist, and is painting Dora's +likeness. He is getting on now, but in the +past, like all artists, he has suffered a deal." + +"God's will be done. Let them suffer. +It is good for genius to suffer. Is he in love +with you?" + +"Gracious, Granny! His head is so full +of pictures that no woman could find room +there, and if one did, the next new picture +would crowd her out." + +"End that story, it is long enough." + +"Do you know Miss Ullman?" + +"I have heard of her. Who has not?" + +"She has Bryce Denning on trial now. +If he marries her I shall pity him." + +"Pity him! Not I, indeed! He would +have his just reward. Like to like, and +Amen to it." + +"Then there was Claudine Jeffrys, looking +quite ethereal, but very lovely." + +"I know. Her lover was killed in Cuba, +and she has been the type of faithful grief +ever since. She looks it and dresses it to +perfection." + +"And feels it?" + +"Perhaps she does. I am not skilled in the +feelings of pensive, heart-broken maidens. +But her case is a very common one. Lovers +are nowhere against husbands, yet how many +thousands of good women lose their husbands +every year? If they are poor, they +have to hide their grief and work for them- +selves and their families; if they are rich, +very few people believe that they are really +sorry to be widows. Are any poor creatures +more jeered at than widows? No man believes +they are grieving for the loss of their +husbands. Then why should they all sympathize +with Claudine about the loss of a +lover?" + +"Perhaps lovers are nicer than husbands." + +"Pretty much all alike. I have known a +few good husbands. Your grandfather was +one, your father another. But you have said +nothing about Fred. Did he look handsome? +Did he make a sensation? Was he a cousin +to be proud of?" + +"Indeed, Granny, Fred was the whole +party. He is not naturally handsome, but he +has distinction, and he was well-dressed. And +I never heard anyone talk as he did. He told +the most delightful stories, he was full of +mimicry and wit, and said things that brought +everyone into the merry talk; and I am sure +he charmed and astonished the whole party. +Mr. Denning asked me quietly afterwards +`what university he was educated at.' I +think he took it all as education, and had +some wild ideas of finishing Bryce in a similar +manner." + +Madam was radiant. "I told you so," +she said proudly. "The Mostyns have intellect +as well as land. There are no stupid +Mostyns. I hope you asked him to play. I +think his way of handling a piano would have +taught them a few things Russians and Poles +know nothing about. Poor things! How can +they have any feelings left?" + +"There was no piano in the room, Granny, +and the company separated very soon after +dinner." + +"Somehow you ought to have managed it, +Ethel." Then with a touch of anxiety, "I +hope all this cleverness was natural--I mean, +I hope it wasn't champagne. You know, +Ethel, we think as we drink, and Fred isn't +used to those frisky wines. Mostyn cellars +are full of old sherry and claret, and Fred's +father was always against frothing, sparkling +wines." + +"Granny, it was all Fred. Wine had +nothing to do with it, but a certain woman +had; in fact, she was the inspirer, and Fred +fell fifty fathoms deep in love with her the +very moment she entered the room. He heard +not, felt not, thought not, so struck with love +was he. Ruth got him to a window for a few +moments and so hid his emotion until he could +get himself together." + +"Oh, what a tale! What a cobweb tale! I +don't believe a word of it," and she laughed +merrily. + +" 'Tis true as gospel, Granny." + +"Name her, then. Who was the woman?" + +"Dora." + +"It is beyond belief, above belief, out of +all reason. It cannot be, and it shall not be, +and if you are making up a story to tease +me, Ethel Rawdon----" + +"Grandmother, let me tell you just how it +came about. We were all in the room waiting +for Dora, and she suddenly entered. She +was dressed in soft amber silk from head to +feet; diamonds were in her black hair, and on +the bands across her shoulders, on her corsage, +on her belt, her hands, and even her +slippers. Under the electric lights she looked +as if she was in a golden aura, scintillating +with stars. She took Fred's breath away. +He was talking to Ruth, and he could not +finish the word he was saying. Ruth thought +he was going to faint----" + +"Don't tell me such nonsense." + +"Well, grandmother, this nonsense is +truth. As I said before, Ruth took him aside +until he got control of himself; then, as he +was Dora's escort, he had to go to her. Ruth +introduced them, and as she raised her soft, +black eyes to his, and put her hand on his +arm, something happened again, but this time +it was like possession. He was the courtier +in a moment, his eyes flashed back her glances, +he gave her smile for smile, and then when +they were seated side by side he became inspired +and talked as I have told you. It is +the truth, grandmother." + +"Well, there are many different kinds of +fools, but Fred Mostyn is the worst I ever +heard tell of. Does he not know that the girl +is engaged?" + +"Knows it as well as I do." + +"None of our family were ever fools before, +and I hope Fred will come round quickly. +Do you think Dora noticed the impression +she made?" + +"Yes, Aunt Ruth noticed Dora; and Ruth +says Dora `turned the arrow in the heart +wound' all the evening." + +"What rubbish you are talking! Say in +good English what you mean." + +"She tried every moment they, were to- +gether to make him more and more in love +with her." + +"What is her intention? A girl doesn't +carry on that way for nothing." + +"I do not know. Dora has got beyond me +lately. And, grandmother, I am not troubling +about the event as it regards Dora or +Fred or Basil Stanhope, but as it regards +Ethel." + +"What have you to do with it?" + +"That is just what I want to have clearly +understood. Aunt Ruth told me that father +and you would be disappointed if I did not +marry Fred." + +"Well?" + +"I am sorry to disappoint you, but I never +shall marry Fred Mostyn. Never!" + +"I rather think you will have to settle that +question with your father, Ethel." + +"No. I have settled it with myself. The +man has given to Dora all the love that he +has to give. I will have a man's whole heart, +and not fragments and finger-ends of it." + +"To be sure, that is right. But I can't say +much, Ethel, when I only know one side of +the case, can I? I must wait and hear what +Fred has to say. But I like your spirit and +your way of bringing what is wrong straight +up to question. You are a bit Yorkshire yet, +whatever you think gets quick to your tongue, +and then out it comes. Good girl, your heart +is on your lips." + +They talked the afternoon away on this +subject, but Madam's last words were not +only advisory, they were in a great measure +sympathetic. "Be straight with yourself, +Ethel," she said, "then Fred Mostyn can do +as he likes; you will be all right." + +She accepted the counsel with a kiss, and +then drove to the Holland House for her +father. He was not waiting, as Ruth had +supposed he would be, but then she was five +minutes too soon. She sent up her card, and +then let her eyes fall upon a wretched beggar +man who was trying to play a violin, but +was unable by reason of hunger and cold. He +looked as if he was dying, and she was moved +with a great pity, and longed for her father +to come and give some help. While she was +anxiously watching, a young man was also +struck with the suffering on the violinist's +face. He spoke a few words to him, and taking +the violin, drew from it such strains of +melody, that in a few moments a crowd had +gathered within the hotel and before it. First +there was silence, then a shout of delight; and +when it ceased the player's voice thrilled +every heart to passionate patriotism, as he +sang with magnificent power and feeling-- + + There is not a spot on this wide-peopled earth + So dear to our heart as the Land of our Birth, etc. + + +A tumult of hearty applause followed, and +then he cried, "Gentlemen, this old man +fought for the land of our birth. He is dying +of hunger," and into the old man's hat he +dropped a bill and then handed it round to +millionaire and workingman alike. Ethel's +purse was in her hand. As he passed along +the curb at which her carriage stood, he +looked at her eager face, and with a smile +held out the battered hat. She, also smiling, +dropped her purse into it. In a few moments +the hat was nearly full; the old man and the +money were confided to the care of an hotel +officer, the stream of traffic and pleasure went +on its usual way, and the musician disappeared. + +All that evening the conversation turned +constantly to this event. Mostyn was sure he +was a member of some operatic troupe. +"Voices of such rare compass and exceptional +training were not to be found among +non-professional people," he said, and Judge +Rawdon was of his opinion. + +"His voice will haunt me for many days," +he said. "Those two lines, for instance-- + + 'Tis the home of our childhood, that beautiful spot + Which memory retains when all else is forgot. + +The melody was wonderful. I wish we could +find out where he is singing. His voice, as I +said, haunts my ear." + +Ethel might have made the same remark, +but she was silent. She had noticed the musician +more closely than her father or Fred +Mostyn, and when Ruth Bayard asked her if +his personality was interesting, she was able +to give a very clear description of the man. + +"I do not believe he is a professional +singer; he is too young," she answered. "I +should think he was about twenty-five years +old, tall, slender, and alert. He was fashionably +dressed, as if he had been, or was +going, to an afternoon reception. Above all +things, I should say he was a gentleman." + +Oh, why are our hearts so accessible to our +eyes? Only a smiling glance had passed between +Ethel and the Unknown, yet his image +was prisoned behind the bars of her eyelids. +On this day of days she had met Love on the +crowded street, and he had + + "But touched his lute wherein was audible + The certain secret thing he had to tell; + Only their mirrored eyes met silently"; + +and a sweet trouble, a restless, pleasing curiosity, +had filled her consciousness. Who was +he? Where had he gone to? When should +they meet again? Ah, she understood now +how Emmeline Labiche had felt constrained +to seek her lover from the snows of Canada +to the moss-veiled oaks of Louisiana. + +But her joyous, hopeful soul could not think +of love and disappointment at the same moment. +"I have seen him, and I shall see him +again. We met by appointment. Destiny +introduced us. Neither of us will forget, and +somewhere, some day, I shall be waiting, and +he will come." + +Thus this daughter of sunshine and hope +answered herself; and why not? All good +things come to those who can wait in sweet +tranquillity for them, and seldom does Fortune +fail to bring love and heart's-ease upon +the changeful stream of changeful days to +those who trust her for them. + +On the following morning, when the two +girls entered the parlor, they found the Judge +smoking there. He had already breakfasted, +and looked over the three or four newspapers +whose opinions he thought worthy of his +consideration. They were lying in a state of +confusion at his side, and Ethel glanced at +them curiously. + +"Did any of the papers speak of the singing +before the Holland House?" she asked. + +"Yes. I think reporters must be ubiquitous. +All my papers had some sort of a notice +of the affair." + +"What do they say?" + +"One gave the bare circumstances of the +case; another indulged in what was supposed +to be humorous description; a third thought +it might have been the result of a bet or dare; +a fourth was of the opinion that conspiracy +between the old beggar and the young man +was not unlikely, and credited the exhibition +as a cleverly original way of obtaining money. +But all agreed in believing the singer to be a +member of some opera company now in the +city." + +Ethel was indignant. "It was neither +`bet' nor `dare' nor `conspiracy,'" she +said. "I saw the singer as he came walking +rapidly down the avenue, and he looked as +happy and careless as a boy whistling on a +country lane. When his eyes fell on the old +man he hesitated, just a moment, and then +spoke to him. I am sure they were absolute +strangers to each other." + +"But how can you be sure of a thing like +that, Ethel?" + +"I don't know `how,' Ruth, but all the +same, I am sure. And as for it being a new +way of begging, that is not correct. Not many +years ago, one of the De Reszke brothers led +a crippled soldier into a Paris cafe, and sang +the starving man into comfort in twenty minutes." + +"And the angelic Parepa Rosa did as much +for a Mexican woman, whom she found in the +depths of sorrow and poverty--brought her +lifelong comfort with a couple of her songs. +Is it not likely, then, that the gallant knight +of the Holland House is really a member of +some opera company, that he knew of these +examples and followed them?" + +"It is not unlikely, Ruth, yet I do not believe +that is the explanation." + +"Well," said the Judge, throwing his +cigarette into the fire, "if the singer had +never heard of De Reszke and Parepa Rosa, +we may suppose him a gentleman of such +culture as to be familiar with the exquisite +Greek legend of Phoebus Apollo--that story +would be sufficient to inspire any man with +his voice. Do you know it?" + +Both girls answered with an enthusiastic +entreaty for its recital, and the Judge went +to the library and returned with a queer-looking +little book, bound in marbled paper. + +"It was my father's copy," he said, "an +Oxford edition." And he turned the leaves +with loving carefulness until he came to the +incident. Then being a fine reader, the words +fell from his lips in a stately measure better +than music: + +"After Troy fell there came to Argos a +scarred soldier seeking alms. Not deigning +to beg, he played upon a lyre; but the handling +of arms had robbed him of his youthful +power, and he stood by the portico hour +after hour, and no one dropped him a lepton. +Weary, hungry and thirsty, he leaned in despair +against a pillar. A youth came to him +and asked, `Why not play on, Akeratos?" +And Akeratos meekly answered, `I am no +longer skilled.' `Then,' said the stranger, +`hire me thy lyre; here is a didrachmon. I +will play, and thou shalt hold out thy cap +and be dumb.' So the stranger took the lyre +and swept the strings, and men heard, as it +were, the clashing of swords. And he sang +the fall of Troy--how Hector perished, slain +by Achilles, the rush of chariots, the ring of +hoofs, the roar of flames--and as he sang the +people stopped to listen, breathless and eager, +with rapt, attentive ear. And when the singer +ceased the soldier's cap was filled with coins, +and the people begged for yet another song. +Then he sang of Venus, till all men's hearts +were softly stirred, and the air was purple +and misty and full of the scent of roses. And +in their joy men cast before Akeratos not +coins only, but silver bracelets and rings, and +gems and ornaments of gold, until the heap +had to its utmost grown, making Akeratos +rich in all men's sight. Then suddenly the +singer stood in a blaze of light, and the men +of Argos saw their god of song, Phoebus +Apollo, rise in glory to the skies." + +The girls were delighted; the Judge pleased +both with his own rendering of the legend +and the manifest appreciation with which +it had been received. For a moment or two +all felt the exquisite touch of the antique +world, and Ethel said, in a tone of longing, + +"I wish that I had been a Greek and lived +in Argos." + +"You would not have liked it as well as +being an American and living in New York," +said her father. + +"And you would have been a pagan," +added Ruth. + +"They were such lovely pagans, Ruth, and +they dreamed such beautiful dreams of life. +Leave the book with me, father; I will take +good care of it." + +Then the Judge gave her the book, and with +a sigh looked into the modern street. "I +ought to be down at Bowling Green instead +of reading Greek stories to you girls," he +said rather brusquely. "I have a very important +railway case on my mind, and Phoebus +Apollo has nothing to do with it. Good morning. +And, Ethel, do not deify the singer on +the avenue. He will not turn out, like the +singer by the portico, to be a god; be sure of +that." + +The door closed before she could answer, +and both women remained silent a few minutes. +Then Ethel went to the window, and +Ruth asked if she was going to Dora's. + +"Yes," was the answer, but without interest. + +"You are tired with all this shopping and worry?" + +"It is not only that I am tired, I am +troubled about Fred Mostyn." + +"Why?" + +"I do not know why. It is only a vague +unrest as yet. But one thing I know, I shall +oppose anything like Fred making himself +intimate with Dora." + +"I think you will do wisely in that." + +But in a week Ethel realized that in opposing +a lover like Fred Mostyn she had a +task beyond her ability. Fred had nothing +to do as important in his opinion as the cultivation +of his friendship with Dora Denning. +He called it "friendship," but this misnomer +deceived no one, not even Dora. And when +Dora encouraged his attentions, how was +Ethel to prevent them without some explanation +which would give a sort of reality to +what was as yet a nameless suspicion? + +Yet every day the familiarity increased. +He seemed to divine their engagements. If +they went to their jeweler's, or to a bazaar, +he was sure to stroll in after them. When +they came out of the milliner's or modiste's, +Fred was waiting. "He had secured a table +at Sherry's; he had ordered lunch, and all +was ready." It was too great an effort to resist +his entreaty. Perhaps no one wished to +do so. The girls were utterly tired and +hungry, and the thought of one of Fred's +lunches was very pleasant. Even if Basil +Stanhope was with them, it appeared to be +all the better. Fred always included Dora's +lover with a charming courtesy; and, indeed, +at such hours, was in his most delightful +mood. Stanhope appeared to inspire him. +His mentality when the clergyman was present +took possession of every incident that +came and went, and clothed it in wit and +pleasantry. Dora's plighted lover honestly +thought Dora's undeclared lover the cleverest +and most delightful of men. And he had no +opportunity of noting, as Ethel did, the +difference in Fred's attitude when he was not +present. Then Mostyn's merry mood became +sentimental, and his words were charged with +soft meanings and looks of adoration, and +every tone and every movement made to express +far more than the tongue would have +dared to utter. + +As this flirtation progressed--for on Dora's +part it was only vanity and flirtation--Ethel +grew more and more uneasy. She almost +wished for some trifling overt act which +would give her an excuse for warning Dora; +and one day, after three weeks of such +philandering, the opportunity came. + +"I think you permit Fred Mostyn to take +too much liberty with you, Dora," she said as +soon as they were in Dora's parlor, and as +she spoke she threw off her coat in a temper +which effectively emphasized the words. + +"I have been expecting this ill-nature, +Ethel. You were cross all the time we were +at lunch. You spoiled all our pleasure +Pray, what have I been doing wrong with +Fred Mostyn?" + +"It was Fred who did wrong. His compliments +to you were outrageous. He has no +right to say such things, and you have no +right to listen to them." + +"I am not to blame if he compliments me +instead of you. He was simply polite, but +then it was to the wrong person." + +"Of course it was. Such politeness he had +no right to offer you." + +"It would have been quite proper if offered +you, I suppose?" + +"It would not. It would have been a great +impertinence. I have given him neither +claim nor privilege to address me as `My +lovely Ethel!' He called you many times +`My lovely Dora!' You are not his lovely +Dora. When he put on your coat, he drew +you closer than was proper; and I saw him +take your hand and hold it in a clasp--not +necessary." + +"Why do you listen and watch? It is vulgar. +You told me so yourself. And I am +lovely. Basil says that as well as Fred. Do +you want a man to lie and say I am ugly?" + +"You are fencing the real question. He +had no business to use the word `my.' You +are engaged to Basil Stanhope, not to Fred +Mostyn." + +"I am Basil's lovely fiancee; I am Fred's +lovely friend." + +"Oh! I hope Fred understands the difference." + +"Of course he does. Some people are always +thinking evil." + +"I was thinking of Mr. Stanhope's rights." + +"Thank you, Ethel; but I can take care +of Mr. Stanhope's rights without your assistance. +If you had said you were thinking of +Ethel Rawdon's rights you would have been +nearer the truth." + +"Dora, I will not listen----" + +"Oh, you shall listen to me! I know that +you expected Fred to fall in love with you, +but if he did not like to do so, am I to blame?" +Ethel was resuming her coat at this point +in the conversation, and Dora understood the +proud silence with which the act was being +accomplished. Then a score of good reasons +for preventing such a definite quarrel flashed +through her selfish little mind, and she threw +her arms around Ethel and begged a thousand +pardons for her rudeness. And Ethel +had also reasons for avoiding dissension at +this time. A break in their friendship now +would bring Dora forward to explain, and +Dora had a wonderful cleverness in presenting +her own side of any question. Ethel +shrunk from her innuendoes concerning Fred, +and she knew that Basil would be made to consider +her a meddling, jealous girl who willingly +saw evil in Dora's guileless enjoyment +of a clever man's company. + +To be misunderstood, to be blamed and +pitied, to be made a pedestal for Dora's superiority, +was a situation not to be contemplated. +It was better to look over Dora's +rudeness in the flush of Dora's pretended sorrow +for it. So they forgave each other, or +said they did, and then Dora explained herself. +She declared that she had not the least +intention of any wrong. "You see, Ethel, +what a fool the man is about me. Somebody +says we ought to treat a fool according to his +folly. That is all I was doing. I am sure +Basil is so far above Fred Mostyn that I +could never put them in comparison--and +Basil knows it. He trusts me." + +"Very well, Dora. If Basil knows it, and +trusts you, I have no more to say. I am now +sorry I named the subject." + +"Never mind, we will forget that it was +named. The fact is, Ethel, I want all the fun +I can get now. When I am Basil's wife I +shall have to be very sedate, and of course not +even pretend to know if any other man admires +me. Little lunches with Fred, theater +and opera parties, and even dances will be +over for me. Oh, dear, how much I am giving +up for Basil! And sometimes I think he +never realizes how dreadful it must be for +me." + +"You will have your lover all the time +then. Surely his constant companionship +will atone for all you relinquish." + +"Take off your coat and hat, Ethel, and +sit down comfortably. I don't know about +Basil's constant companionship. Tete-a-tetes +are tiresome affairs sometimes." + +"Yes," replied Ethel, as she half-reluc- +tantly removed her coat, "they were a bore +undoubtedly even in Paradise. I wonder if +Eve was tired of Adam's conversation, and +if that made her listen to--the other party." + +"I am so glad you mentioned that circumstance, +Ethel. I shall remember it. Some +day, no doubt, I shall have to remind Basil +of the failure of Adam to satisfy Eve's idea +of perfect companionship." And Dora put +her pretty, jeweled hands up to her ears and +laughed a low, musical laugh with a childish +note of malice running through it. + +This pseudo-reconciliation was not conducive +to pleasant intercourse. After a +short delay Ethel made an excuse for an early +departure, and Dora accepted it without her +usual remonstrance. The day had been one +of continual friction, and Dora's irritable +pettishness hard to bear, because it had now +lost that childish unreason which had always +induced Ethel's patience, for Dora had lately +put away all her ignorant immaturities. She +had become a person of importance, and had +realized the fact. The young ladies of St. +Jude's had made a pet of their revered rector's +love, and the elder ladies had also shown +a marked interest in her. The Dennings' fine +house was now talked about and visited. Men +of high financial power respected Mr. Dan +Denning, and advised the social recognition +of his family; and Mrs. Denning was not now +found more eccentric than many other of the +new rich, who had been tolerated in the +ranks of the older plutocrats. Even Bryce +had made the standing he desired. He was +seen with the richest and idlest young men, +and was invited to the best houses. Those +fashionable women who had marriageable +daughters considered him not ineligible, +and men temporarily hampered for cash +knew that they could find smiling assistance +for a consideration at Bryce's little office on +William Street. + +These and other points of reflection troubled +Ethel, and she was glad the long trial was +nearing its end, for she knew quite well the +disagreement of that evening had done no +good. Dora would certainly repeat their +conversation, in her own way of interpreting +it, to both Basil Stanhope and Fred Mostyn. +More than likely both Bryce and Mrs. +Denning would also hear how her innocent +kindness had been misconstrued; and in each +case she could imagine the conversation that +took place, and the subsequent bestowal of +pitying, scornful or angry feeling that would +insensibly find its way to her consciousness +without any bird of the air to carry it. + +She felt, too, that reprisals of any kind +were out of the question. They were not only +impolitic, they were difficult. Her father had +an aversion to Dora, and was likely to seize +the first opportunity for requesting Ethel to +drop the girl's acquaintance. Ruth also had +urged her to withdraw from any active part +in the wedding, strengthening her advice +with the assurance that when a friendship began +to decline it ought to be abandoned at +once. There was only her grandmother to +go to, and at first she did not find her at all +interested in the trouble. She had just had +a dispute with her milkman, was inclined to +give him all her suspicions and all her angry +words--"an impertinent, cheating creature," +she said; and then Ethel had to hear the history +of the month's cream and of the milkman's +extortion, with the old lady's characteristic +declaration: + +"I told him plain what I thought of his +ways, but I paid him every cent I owed him. +Thank God, I am not unreasonable!" + +Neither was she unreasonable when Ethel +finally got her to listen to her own serious +grievance with Dora. + +"If you will have a woman for a friend, +Ethel, you must put up with womanly ways; +and it is best to keep your mouth shut concerning +such ways. I hate to see you whimpering +and whining about wrongs you have +been cordially inviting for weeks and months +and years." + +"Grandmother!" + +"Yes, you have been sowing thorns for +yourself, and then you go unshod over them. +I mean that Dora has this fine clergyman, +and Fred Mostyn, and her brother, and +mother, and father all on her side; all of +them sure that Dora can do no wrong, all of +them sure that Ethel, poor girl, must be mistaken, +or prudish, or jealous, or envious." + +"Oh, grandmother, you are too cruel," + +"Why didn't you have a few friends on +your own side?" + +"Father and Ruth never liked Dora. And +Fred--I told you how Fred acted as soon as +he saw her!" + +"There was Royal Wheelock, James Clifton, +or that handsome Dick Potter. Why +didn't you ask them to join you at your +lunches and dances? You ought to have pillared +your own side. A girl without her beaux +is always on the wrong side if the girl with +beaux is against her." + +"It was the great time of Dora's life. I +wished her to have all the glory of it." + +"All her own share--that was right. All +of your share, also--that was as wrong as it +could be." + +"Clifton is yachting, Royal and I had a +little misunderstanding, and Dick Potter is +too effusive." + +"But Dick's effusiveness would have been +a good thing for Fred's effusiveness. Two +men can't go on a complimentary ran-tan at +the same table. They freeze one another out. +That goes without saying. But Dora's +indiscretions are none of your business while +she is under her father's roof; and I don't +know if she hadn't a friend in the world, if +they would be your business. I have always +been against people trying to do the work +of THEM that are above us. We are told THEY +seek and THEY save, and it's likely they will +look after Dora in spite of her being so unknowing +of herself as to marry a priest in a +surplice, when a fool in motley would have +been more like the thing." + +"I don't want to quarrel with Dora. After +all, I like her. We have been friends a long +time." + +"Well, then, don't make an enemy of her. +One hundred friends are too few against one +enemy. One hundred friends will wish you +well, and one enemy will DO you ill. God love +you, child! Take the world as you find it. +Only God can make it any better. When is +this blessed wedding to come off?" + +"In two weeks. You got cards, did you +not?" + +"I believe I did. They don't matter. Let +Dora and her flirtations alone, unless you set +your own against them. Like cures like. If +the priest sees nothing wrong----" + +"He thinks all she does is perfect." + +"I dare say. Priests are a soft lot, they'll +believe anything. He's love-blind at present. +Some day, like the prophet of Pethor,[1] he will +get his eyes opened. As for Fred Mostyn, I +shall have a good deal to say about him by +and by, so I'll say nothing now." + + +[1] One of the Hebrew prophets. + + +"You promised, grandmother, not to talk +to me any more about Fred." + +"It was a very inconsiderate promise, a +very irrational promise! I am sorry I made +it--and I don't intend to keep it." + +"Well, it takes two to hold a conversation, +grandmother." + +"To be sure it does. But if I talk to you, +I hope to goodness you will have the decency +to answer me. I wouldn't believe anything +different." And she looked into Ethel's face +with such a smiling confidence in her good +will and obedience, that Ethel could only +laugh and give her twenty kisses as she stood +up to put on her hat and coat. + +"You always get your way, Granny," she +said; and the old lady, as she walked with her +to the door, answered, "I have had my way +for nearly eighty years, dearie, and I've +found it a very good way. I'm not likely +to change it now." + +"And none of us want you to change it, +dear. Granny's way is always a wise way." +And she kissed her again ere she ran down +the steps to her carriage. Yet as the old lady +stepped slowly back to the parlor, she muttered, +"Fred Mostyn is a fool! If he had +any sense when he left England, he has lost +it since he came here." + +Of course nothing good came of this irritable +interference. Meddling with the conscience +of another person is a delicate and +difficult affair, and Ruth had already warned +Ethel of its certain futility. But the days +were rapidly wearing away to the great day, +for which so many other days had been wasted +in fatiguing worry, and incredible extravagance +of health and temper and money--and +after it? There would certainly be a break +in associations. Temptation would be removed, +and Basil Stanhope, relieved for a +time from all the duties of his office, would +have continual opportunities for making +eternally secure the affection of the woman +he had chosen. + +It was to be a white wedding, and for +twenty hours previous to its celebration it +seemed as if all the florists in New York were +at work in the Denning house and in St. +Jude's church. The sacred place was radiant +with white lilies. White lilies everywhere; +and the perfume would have been overpowering, +had not the weather been so exquisite +that open windows were possible and even +pleasant. To the softest strains of music +Dora entered leaning on her father's arm +and her beauty and splendor evoked from the +crowd present an involuntary, simultaneous +stir of wonder and delight. She had hesitated +many days between the simplicity of +white chiffon and lilies of the valley, and the +magnificence of brocaded satin in which a +glittering thread of silver was interwoven. +The satin had won the day, and the sunshine +fell upon its beauty, as she knelt at the altar, +like sunshine falling upon snow. It shone +and gleamed and glistened as if it were an +angel's robe; and this scintillating effect was +much increased by the sparkling of the diamonds +in her hair, and at her throat and +waist and hands and feet. Nor was her brilliant +youth affected by the overshadowing +tulle usually so unbecoming. It veiled her +from head to feet, and was held in place by +a diamond coronal. All her eight maids, +though lovely girls, looked wan and of the +earth beside her. For her sake they had been +content with the simplicity of chiffon and +white lace hats, and she stood among them +lustrous as some angelic being. Stanhope +was entranced by her beauty, and no one +on this day wondered at his infatuation or +thought remarkable the ecstasy of reverent +rapture with which he received the hand of +his bride. His sense of the gift was ravishing. +She was now his love, his wife forever, +and when Ethel slipped forward to part and +throw backward the concealing veil, he very +gently restrained her, and with his own hands +uncovered the blushing beauty, and kissed +her there at the altar. Then amid a murmur +and stir of delighted sympathy he took his +wife upon his arm, and turned with her to +the life they were to face together. + +Two hours later all was a past dream. +Bride and bridegroom had slipped quietly +away, and the wedding guests had arrived at +that rather noisy indifference which presages +the end of an entertainment. Then flushed +and tired with hurrying congratulations and +good wishes that stumbled over each other, +carriage after carriage departed; and Ethel +and her companions went to Dora's parlor to +rest awhile and discuss the event of the day. +But Dora's parlor was in a state of confusion. +It had, too, an air of loss, and felt like a gilded +cage from which the bird had flown. They +looked dismally at its discomfort and went +downstairs. Men were removing the faded +flowers or sitting at the abandoned table eating +and drinking. Everywhere there was +disorder and waste, and from the servants' +quarter came a noisy sense of riotous feasting. + +"Where is Mrs. Denning?" Ethel asked a +footman who was gathering together the silver +with the easy unconcern of a man whose +ideas were rosy with champagne. He looked +up with a provoking familiarity at the question, +and sputtered out, "She's lying down +crying and making a fuss. Miss Day is with +her, soothing of her." + +"Let us go home," said Ethel. + +And so, weary with pleasure, and heart- +heavy with feelings that had no longer any +reason to exist, pale with fatigue, untidy with +crush, their pretty white gowns sullied and +passe, each went her way; in every heart a +wonder whether the few hilarious hours of +strange emotions were worth all they claimed +as their right and due. + +Ruth had gone home earlier, and Ethel +found her resting in her room. "I am worn +out, Ruth," was her first remark. "I am +going to bed for three or four days. It was +a dreadful ordeal." + +"One to which you may have to submit." + +"Certainly not. My marriage will be a +religious ceremony, with half a dozen of my +nearest relatives as witnesses." + +"I noticed Fred slip away before Dora +went. He looked ill." + +"I dare say he is ill--and no wonder. +Good night, Ruth. I am going to sleep. Tell +father all about the wedding. I don't want +to hear it named again--not as long as I live." + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THREE days passed and Ethel had regained +her health and spirits, but Fred Mostyn had +not called since the wedding. Ruth thought +some inquiry ought to be made, and Judge +Rawdon called at the Holland House. There +he was told that Mr. Mostyn had not been +well, and the young man's countenance painfully +confessed the same thing. + +"My dear Fred, why did you not send us +word you were ill?" asked the Judge. + +"I had fever, sir, and I feared it might be +typhoid. Nothing of the kind, however. I +shall be all right in a day or two." + +The truth was far from typhoid, and Fred +knew it. He had left the wedding breakfast +because he had reached the limit of his +endurance. Words, stinging as whips, burned +like hot coals in his mouth, and he felt that +he could not restrain them much longer. +Hastening to his hotel, he locked himself in +his rooms, and passed the night in a frenzy +of passion. The very remembrance of the +bridegroom's confident transport put mur- +der in his heart--murder which he could only +practice by his wishes, impotent to compass +their desires. + +"I wish the fellow shot! I wish him +hanged! I would kill him twenty times in +twenty different ways! And Dora! Dora! +Dora! What did she see in him? What +could she see? Love her? He knows nothing +of love--such love as tortures me." +Backwards and forwards he paced the floor +to such imprecations and ejaculations as +welled up from the whirlpool of rage in his +heart, hour following hour, till in the blackness +of his misery he could no longer speak. +His brain had become stupefied by the iteration +of inevitable loss, and so refused any +longer to voice a woe beyond remedy. Then +he stood still and called will and reason to +council him. "This way madness lies," he +thought. "I must be quiet--I must sleep-- +I must forget." + +But it was not until the third day that a +dismal, sullen stillness succeeded the storm +of rage and grief, and he awoke from a sleep +of exhaustion feeling as if he were withered +at his heart. He knew that life had to be +taken up again, and that in all its farces +he must play his part. At first the thought +of Mostyn Hall presented itself as an asylum. +It stood amid thick woods, and there were +miles of wind-blown wolds and hills around +it. He was lord and master there, no one +could intrude upon his sorrow; he could nurse +it in those lonely rooms to his heart's content. +Every day, however, this gloomy resolution +grew fainter, and one morning he awoke and +laughed it to scorn. + +"Frederick's himself again," he quoted, +"and he must have been very far off himself +when he thought of giving up or of running +away. No, Fred Mostyn, you will stay here. +'Tis a country where the impossible does not +exist, and the unlikely is sure to happen--a +country where marriage is not for life or +death, and where the roads to divorce are +manifold and easy. There are a score of +ways and means. I will stay and think them +over; 'twill be odd if I cannot force Fate to +change her mind." + +A week after Dora's marriage he found +himself able to walk up the avenue to the +Rawdon house; but he arrived there weary +and wan enough to instantly win the sympathy +of Ruth and Ethel, and he was immensely +strengthened by the sense of home +and kindred, and of genuine kindness to +which he felt a sort of right. He asked Ruth +if he might eat dinner with them. He said +he was hungry, and the hotel fare did not +tempt him. And when Judge Rawdon returned +he welcomed him in the same generous +spirit, and the evening passed delightfully +away. At its close, however, as Mostyn stood +gloved and hatted, and the carriage waited for +him, he said a few words to Judge Rawdon +which changed the mental and social atmosphere. +"I wish to have a little talk with you, +sir, on a business matter of some importance. +At what hour can I see you to-morrow?" + +"I am engaged all day until three in the +afternoon, Fred. Suppose I call on you about +four or half-past?" + +"Very well, sir." + +But both Ethel and Ruth wondered if it +was "very well." A shadow, fleeting as +thought, had passed over Judge Rawdon's +face when he heard the request for a business +interview, and after the young man's departure +he lost himself in a reverie which +was evidently not a happy one. But he said +nothing to the girls, and they were not +accustomed to question him. + +The next morning, instead of going direct +to his office, he stopped at Madam, his moth- +er's house in Gramercy Park. A visit at such +an early hour was unusual, and the old lady +looked at him in alarm. + +"We are well, mother," he said as she +rose. "I called to talk to you about a little +business." Whereupon Madam sat down, +and became suddenly about twenty years +younger, for "business" was a word like a +watch-cry; she called all her senses together +when it was uttered in her presence. + +"Business!" she ejaculated sharply. +"Whose business?" + +"I think I may say the business of the +whole family." + +"Nay, I am not in it. My business is just +as I want it, and I am not going to talk about +it--one way or the other." + +"Is not Rawdon Court of some interest to +you? It has been the home and seat of the +family for many centuries. A good many. +Mostyn women have been its mistress." + +"I never heard of any Mostyn woman who +would not have been far happier away from +Rawdon Court. It was a Calvary to them all. +There was little Nannie Mostyn, who died +with her first baby because Squire Anthony +struck her in a drunken passion; and the +proud Alethia Mostyn, who suffered twenty +years' martyrdom from Squire John; and +Sara, who took thirty thousand pounds to +Squire Hubert, to fling away at the green +table; and Harriet, who was made by her +husband, Squire Humphrey, to jump a fence +when out hunting with him, and was brought +home crippled and scarred for life--a lovely +girl of twenty who went through agonies for +eleven years without aught of love and help, +and died alone while he was following a fox; +and there was pretty Barbara Mostyn----" + +"Come, come, mother. I did not call here +this morning to hear the Rawdons abused, +and you forget your own marriage. It was +a happy one, I am sure. One Rawdon, at +least, must be excepted; and I think I treated +my wife as a good husband ought to treat a +wife." + +"Not you! You treated Mary very badly." + +"Mother, not even from you----" + +"I'll say it again. The little girl was +dying for a year or more, and you were so +busy making money you never saw it. If +she said or looked a little complaint, you +moved restless-like and told her `she moped +too much.' As the end came I spoke to you, +and you pooh-poohed all I said. She went +suddenly, I know, to most people, but she +knew it was her last day, and she longed so +to see you, that I sent a servant to hurry you +home, but she died before you could make up +your mind to leave your `cases.' She and +I were alone when she whispered her last +message for you--a loving one, too." + +"Mother! Mother! Why recall that bitter +day? I did not think--I swear I did not +think----" + +"Never mind swearing. I was just reminding +you that the Rawdons have not been +the finest specimens of good husbands. They +make landlords, and judges, and soldiers, and +even loom-lords of a very respectable sort; +but husbands! Lord help their poor wives! +So you see, as a Mostyn woman, I have no +special interest in Rawdon Court." + +"You would not like it to go out of the +family?" + +"I should not worry myself if it did." + +"I suppose you know Fred Mostyn has a +mortgage on it that the present Squire is unable +to lift." + +"Aye, Fred told me he had eighty thousand +pounds on the old place. I told him he +was a fool to put his money on it." + +"One of the finest manors and manor- +houses in England, mother." + +"I have seen it. I was born and brought +up near enough to it, I think." + +"Eighty thousand pounds is a bagatelle +for the place; yet if Fred forces a sale, it may +go for that, or even less. I can't bear to think +of it." + +"Why not buy it yourself?" + +"I would lift the mortgage to-morrow if I +had the means. I have not at present." + +"Well, I am in the same box. You have +just spoken as if the Mostyns and Rawdons +had an equal interest in Rawdon Court. +Very well, then, it cannot be far wrong for +Fred Mostyn to have it. Many a Mostyn has +gone there as wife and slave. I would dearly +like to see one Mostyn go as master." + +"I shall get no help from you, then, I +understand that." + +"I'm Mostyn by birth, I'm only Rawdon +by, marriage. The birth-band ties me fast to +my family." + +"Good morning, mother. You have failed +me for the first time in your life." + +"If the money had been for you, Edward, +or yours----" + +"It is--good-by." + +She called him back peremptorily, and he +returned and stood at the open door. + +"Why don't you ask Ethel?" + +"I did not think I had the right, mother." + +"More right to ask her than I. See what +she says. She's Rawdon, every inch of her." + +"Perhaps I may. Of course, I can sell +securities, but it would be at a sacrifice a great +sacrifice at present." + +"Ethel has the cash; and, as I said, she is +Rawdon--I'm not." + +"I wish my father were alive." + +"He wouldn't move me--you needn't think +that. What I have said to you I would have +said to him. Speak to Ethel. I'll be bound +she'll listen if Rawdon calls her." + +"I don't like to speak to Ethel." + +"It isn't what you like to do, it's what you +find you'll have to do, that carries the day; +and a good thing, too, considering." + +"Good morning, again. You are not quite +yourself, I think." + +"Well, I didn't sleep last night, so there's +no wonder if I'm a bit cross this morning. +But if I lose my temper, I keep my understanding." + +She was really cross by this time. Her son +had put her in a position she did not like to +assume. No love for Rawdon Court was in +her heart. She would rather have advanced +the money to buy an American estate. She +had been little pleased at Fred's mortgage on +the old place, but to the American Rawdons +she felt it would prove a white elephant; and +the appeal to Ethel was advised because she +thought it would amount to nothing. In the +first place, the Judge had the strictest idea +of the sacredness of the charge committed +to him as guardian of his daughter's fortune. +In the second, Ethel inherited from +her Yorkshire ancestry an intense sense of +the value and obligations of money. She was +an ardent American, and not likely to spend +it on an old English manor; and, furthermore, +Madam's penetration had discovered +a growing dislike in her granddaughter for +Fred Mostyn. + +"She'd never abide him for a lifelong +neighbor," the old lady decided. "It is the +Rawdon pride in her. The Rawdon men have +condescended to go to Mostyn for wives many +and many a time, but never once have the +Mostyn men married a Rawdon girl--proud, +set-up women, as far as I remember; and +Ethel has a way with her just like them. Fred +is good enough and nice enough for any girl, +and I wonder what is the matter with him! +It is a week and more since he was here, and +then he wasn't a bit like himself." + +At this moment the bell rang and she heard +Fred's voice inquiring "if Madam was at +home." Instantly she divined the motive of +his call. The young man had come to the +conclusion the Judge would try to influence +his mother, and before meeting him in the +afternoon he wished to have some idea of the +trend matters were likely to take. His policy +--cunning, Madam called it--did not please +her. She immediately assured herself that +"she wouldn't go against her own flesh and +blood for anyone," and his wan face and general +air of wretchedness further antagonized +her. She asked him fretfully "what he had +been doing to himself, for," she added, "it's +mainly what we do to ourselves that makes +us sick. Was it that everlasting wedding of +the Denning girl?" + +He flushed angrily, but answered with much +of the same desire to annoy, "I suppose it +was. I felt it very much. Dora was the loveliest +girl in the city. There are none left like +her." + +"It will be a good thing for New York if +that is the case. I'm not one that wants the +city to myself, but I can spare Dora STANHOPE, +and feel the better for it." + +"The most beautiful of God's creatures!" + +"You've surely lost your sight or your +judgment, Fred. She is just a dusky-skinned +girl, with big, brown eyes. You can pick her +sort up by the thousand in any large city. +And a wandering-hearted, giddy creature, too, +that will spread as she goes, no doubt. I'm +sorry for Basil Stanhope, he didn't deserve +such a fate." + +"Indeed, he did not! It is beyond measure +too good for him." + +"I've always heard that affliction is the +surest way to heaven. Dora will lead him +that road, and it will be more sure than pleasant. +Poor fellow! He'll soon be as ready to +curse his wedding-day as Job was to curse his +birthday. A costly wife she will be to keep, +and misery in the keeping of her. But if you +came to talk to me about Dora STANHOPE, I'll +cease talking, for I don't find it any great +entertainment." + +"I came to talk to you about Squire Rawdon." + +"What about the Squire? Keep it in your +mind that he and I were sweethearts when we +were children. I haven't forgotten that fact." + +"You know Rawdon Court is mortgaged +to me?" + +"I've heard you say so--more than once." + +"I intend to foreclose the mortgage in +September. I find that I can get twice yes, +three times--the interest for my money in +American securities." + +"How do you know they are securities?" + +"Bryce Denning has put me up to several +good things." + +"Well, if you think good things can come +that road, you are a bigger fool than I ever +thought you." + +"Fool! Madam, I allow no one to call me +a fool, especially without reason." + +"Reason, indeed! What reason was there +in your dillydallying after Dora Denning +when she was engaged, and then making yourself +like a ghost for her after she is married? +As for the good things Bryce Denning offers +you in exchange for a grand English manor, +take them, and then if I called you not fool +before, I will call you fool in your teeth twice +over, and much too good for you! Aye, I +could call you a worse name when I think of +the old Squire--he's two years older than I +am--being turned out of his lifelong home. +Where is he to go to?" + +"If I buy the place, for of course it will +have to be sold, he is welcome to remain at +Rawdon Court." + +"And he would deserve to do it if he were +that low-minded; but if I know Squire Percival, +he will go to the poor-house first. Fred, +you would surely scorn such a dirty thing as +selling the old man out of house and home?" + +"I want my money, or else I want Rawdon +Manor." + +"And I have no objections either to your +wanting it or having it, but, for goodness' +sake, wait until death gives you a decent warrant +for buying it." + +"I am afraid to delay. The Squire has +been very cool with me lately, and my agent +tells me the Tyrrel-Rawdons have been visiting +him, also that he has asked a great many +questions about the Judge and Ethel. He +is evidently trying to prevent me getting +possession, and I know that old Nicholas +Rawdon would give his eyelids to own Rawdon +Court. As to the Judge----" + +"My son wants none of it. You can make +your mind easy on that score." + +"I think I behaved very decently, though, +of course, no one gives me credit for it; for +as soon as I saw I must foreclose in order to +get my own I thought at once of Ethel. It +seemed to me that if we could love each other +the money claims of Mostyn and the inherited +claims of Rawdon would both be satisfied. +Unfortunately, I found that I could not love +Ethel as a wife should be loved." + +"And I can tell you, Fred, that Ethel +never could have loved you as a husband +should be loved. She was a good deal disappointed +in you from the very first." + +"I thought I made a favorable impression +on her." + +"In a way. She said you played the piano +nicely; but Ethel is all for handsome men, +tall, erect six-footers, with a little swing and +swagger to them. She thought you small +and finicky. But Ethel's rich enough to have +her fancy, I hope." + +"It is little matter now what she thought. +I can't please every one." + +"No, it's rather harder to do that than +most people think it is. I would please my +conscience first of all, Fred. That's the point +worth mentioning. And I shall just remind +you of one thing more: your money all in a +lump on Rawdon Manor is safe. It is in one +place, and in such shape as it can't run away +nor be smuggled away by any man's trickery. +Now, then, turn your eighty thousand pounds +into dollars, and divide them among a score +of securities, and you'll soon find out that a +fortune may be easily squandered when it is +in a great many hands, and that what looks +satisfactory enough when reckoned up on +paper doesn't often realize in hard money to +the same tune. I've said all now I am going +to say." + +"Thank you for the advice given me. I +will take it as far as I can. This afternoon +the Judge has promised to talk over the business +with me." + +"The Judge never saw Rawdon Court, and +he cares nothing about it, but he can give you +counsel about the `good things' Bryce Denning +offers you. And you may safely listen +to it, for, right or wrong, I see plainly it is +your own advice you will take in the long +run." + +Mostyn laughed pleasantly and went back +to his hotel to think over the facts gleaned +from his conversation with Madam. In the +first place, he understood that any overt act +against Squire Rawdon would be deeply resented +by his American relatives. But then +he reminded himself that his own relationship +with them was merely sentiment. He +had now nothing to hope for in the way of +money. Madam's apparently spontaneous +and truthful assertion, that the Judge cared +nothing for Rawdon Court, was, however, +very satisfactory to him. He had been foolish +enough to think that the thing he desired +so passionately was of equal value in the +estimation of others. He saw now that he was +wrong, and he then remembered that he had +never found Judge Rawdon to evince either +interest or curiosity about the family home. + +If he had been a keen observer, the Judge's +face when he called might have given his +comfortable feelings some pause. It was contracted, +subtle, intricate, but he came forward +with a congratulation on Mostyn's improved +appearance. "A few weeks at the seaside +would do you good," he added, and Mostyn +answered, "I think of going to Newport for +a month." + +"And then?" + +"I want your opinion about that. McLean +advises me to see the country--to go to Chicago, +St. Louis, Denver, cross the Rockies, +and on to California. It seems as if that +would be a grand summer programme. But +my lawyer writes me that the man in charge +at Mostyn is cutting too much timber and is +generally too extravagant. Then there is the +question of Rawdon Court. My finances will +not let me carry the mortgage on it longer, +unless I buy the place." + +"Are you thinking of that as probable?" + +"Yes. It will have to be sold. And Mostyn +seems to be the natural owner after Rawdon. +The Mostyns have married Rawdons +so frequently that we are almost like one +family, and Rawdon Court lies, as it were, +at Mostyn's gate. The Squire is now old, +and too easily persuaded for his own welfare, +and I hear the Tyrrel-Rawdons have been +visiting him. Such a thing would have been +incredible a few years ago." + +"Who are the Tyrrel-Rawdons? I have +no acquaintance with them." + +"They are the descendants of that Tyrrel- +Rawdon who a century ago married a handsome +girl who was only an innkeeper's +daughter. He was of course disowned and +disinherited, and his children sank to the +lowest social grade. Then when power-loom +weaving was introduced they went to the +mills, and one of them was clever and saved +money and built a little mill of his own, and +his son built a much larger one, and made a +great deal of money, and became Mayor of +Leeds. The next generation saw the Tyrrel- +Rawdons the largest loom-lords in Yorkshire. +One of the youngest generation was my opponent +in the last election and beat me--a +Radical fellow beats the Conservative candidate +always where weavers and spinners hold +the vote but I thought it my duty to uphold +the Mostyn banner. You know the Mostyns +have always been Tories and Conservatives." + +"Excuse me, but I am afraid I am ignorant +concerning Mostyn politics. I take little interest +in the English parties." + +"Naturally. Well, I hope you will take an +interest in my affairs and give me your advice +about the sale of Rawdon Court." + +"I think my advice would be useless. In +the first place, I never saw the Court. My +father had an old picture of it, which has +somehow disappeared since his death, but I +cannot say that even this picture interested +me at all. You know I am an American, born +on the soil, and very proud of it. Then, as +you are acquainted with all the ins and outs +of the difficulties and embarrassments, and I +know nothing at all about them, you would +hardly be foolish enough to take my opinion +against your own. I suppose the Squire is +in favor of your buying the Court?" + +"I never named the subject to him. I +thought perhaps he might have written to +you on the matter. You are the last male of +the house in that line." + +"He has never written to me about the +Court. Then, I am not the last male. From +what you say, I think the Tyrrel-Rawdons +could easily supply an heir to Rawdon." + +"That is the thing to be avoided. It would +be a great offense to the county families." + +"Why should they be considered? A +Rawdon is always a Rawdon." + +"But a cotton spinner, sir! A mere mill- +owner!" + +"Well, I do not feel with you and the +other county people in that respect. I think +a cotton spinner, giving bread to a thousand +families, is a vastly more respectable and +important man than a fox-hunting, idle landlord. +A mill-owning Rawdon might do a deal of +good in the sleepy old village of Monk-Rawdon." + +"Your sentiments are American, not English, +sir." + +"As I told you, we look at things from +very different standpoints." + +"Do you feel inclined to lift the mortgage +yourself, Judge?" + +"I have not the power, even if I had the +inclination to do so. My money is well invested, +and I could not, at this time, turn bonds and +securities into cash without making a sacrifice +not to be contemplated. I confess, however, +that if the Court has to be sold, I should +like the Tyrrel-Rawdons to buy it. I dare +say the picture of the offending youth is still +in the gallery, and I have heard my mother +say that what is another's always yearns for +its lord. Driven from his heritage for Love's +sake, it would be at least interesting if Gold +gave back to his children what Love lost +them." + +"That is pure sentiment. Surely it would +be more natural that the Mostyns should succeed +the Rawdons. We have, as it were, +bought the right with at least a dozen +intermarriages." + +"That also is pure sentiment. Gold at +last will carry the succession." + +"But not your gold, I infer?" + +"Not my gold; certainly not." + +"Thank you for your decisive words +They make my course clear." + +"That is well. As to your summer movements, +I am equally unable to give you advice. +I think you need the sea for a month, +and after that McLean's scheme is good. +And a return to Mostyn to look after your +affairs is equally good. If I were you, I +should follow my inclinations. If you put +your heart into anything, it is well done and +enjoyed; if you do a thing because you think +you ought to do it, failure and disappointment +are often the results. So do as you want +to do; it is the only advice I can offer you." + +"Thank you, sir. It is very acceptable. I +may leave for Newport to-morrow. I shall +call on the ladies in the morning." + +"I will tell them, but it is just possible +that they, too, go to the country to-morrow, +to look after a little cottage on the Hudson +we occupy in the summer. Good-by, and +I hope you will soon recover your usual +health." + +Then the Judge lifted his hat, and with a +courteous movement left the room. His face +had the same suave urbanity of expression, +but he could hardly restrain the passion in +his heart. Placid as he looked when he entered +his house, he threw off all pretenses as +soon as he reached his room. The Yorkshire +spirit which Ethel had declared found him out +once in three hundred and sixty-four days +and twenty-three hours was then in full pos- +session. The American Judge had disappeared. +He looked as like his ancestors as +anything outside of a painted picture could +do. His flushed face, his flashing eyes, his +passionate exclamations, the stamp of his +foot, the blow of his hand, the threatening +attitude of his whole figure was but a replica +of his great-grandfather, Anthony Rawdon, +giving Radicals at the hustings or careless +keepers at the kennels "a bit of his mind." + +"`Mostyn, seems to be the natural owner +of Rawdon! Rawdon Court lies at Mostyn's +gate! Natural that the Mostyns should succeed +the Rawdons! Bought the right by a +dozen intermarriages!' Confound the impudent +rascal! Does he think I will see +Squire Rawdon rogued out of his home? Not +if I can help it! Not if Ethel can help it! +Not if heaven and earth can help it! He's +a downright rascal! A cool, unruffled, impudent +rascal!" And these ejaculations were +followed by a bitter, biting, blasting hailstorm +of such epithets as could only be written +with one letter and a dash. + +But the passion of imprecation cooled and +satisfied his anger in this its first impetuous +outbreak, and he sat down, clasped the arms +of his chair, and gave himself a peremptory +order of control. In a short time he rose, +bathed his head and face in cold water, and +began to dress for dinner. And as he stood +before the glass he smiled at the restored +color and calm of his countenance. + +"You are a prudent lawyer," he said +sarcastically. "How many actionable words +have you just uttered! If the devil and Fred +Mostyn have been listening, they can, as +mother says, `get the law on you'; but I +think Ethel and I and the law will be a match +even for the devil and Fred Mostyn." Then, +as he slowly went downstairs, he repeated to +himself, "Mostyn seems to be the natural +owner of Rawdon. No, sir, neither natural +nor legal owner. Rawdon Court lies at Mostyn +gate. Not yet. Mostyn lies at Rawdon +gate. Natural that the Mostyns should succeed +the Rawdons. Power of God! Neither +in this generation nor the next." + +And at the same moment Mostyn, having +thought over his interview with Judge Rawdon, +walked thoughtfully to a window and +muttered to himself: "Whatever was the +matter with the old man? Polite as a courtier, +but something was wrong. The room +felt as if there was an iceberg in it, and +he kept his right hand in his pocket. I be- +lieve he was afraid I would shake hands with +him--it is Ethel, I suppose. Naturally he is +disappointed. Wanted her at Rawdon. Well, +it is a pity, but I really cannot! Oh, Dora! +Dora! My heart, my hungry and thirsty +heart calls you! Burning with love, dying +with longing, I am waiting for you!" + +The dinner passed pleasantly enough, but +both Ethel and Ruth noticed the Judge was +under strong but well-controlled feeling. +While servants were present it passed for +high spirits, but as soon as the three were +alone in the library, the excitement took at +once a serious aspect. + +"My dears," he said, standing up and +facing them, "I have had a very painful interview +with Fred Mostyn. He holds a mortgage +over Rawdon Court, and is going to +press it in September--that is, he proposes +to sell the place in order to obtain his money +--and the poor Squire!" He ceased speaking, +walked across the room and back again, +and appeared greatly disturbed. + +"What of the Squire?" asked Ruth. + +"God knows, Ruth. He has no other +home." + +"Why is this thing to be done? Is there +no way to prevent it?" + +"Mostyn wants the money, he says, to invest +in American securities. He does not. +He wants to force a sale, so that he may buy +the place for the mortgage, and then either +keep it for his pride, or more likely resell it +to the Tyrrel-Rawdons for double the money." +Then with gradually increasing passion he +repeated in a low, intense voice the remarks +which Mostyn had made, and which had so +infuriated the Judge. Before he had finished +speaking the two women had caught his temper +and spirit. Ethel's face was white with +anger, her eyes flashing, her whole attitude +full of fight. Ruth was troubled and sorrowful, +and she looked anxiously at the Judge +for some solution of the condition. It was +Ethel who voiced the anxiety. "Father," +she asked, "what is to be done? What can +you do?" + +"Nothing, I am sorry to say, Ethel. My +money is absolutely tied up--for this year, +at any rate. I cannot touch it without wronging +others as well as myself, nor yet without +the most ruinous sacrifice." + +"If I could do anything, I would not care +at what sacrifice." + +"You can do all that is necessary, Ethel, +and you are the only person who can. You +have at least eight hundred thousand dollars +in cash and negotiable securities. Your +mother's fortune is all yours, with its legitimate +accruements, and it was left at your +own disposal after your twenty-first birthday. +It has been at your own disposal WITH +MY CONSENT since your nineteenth birthday." + +"Then, father, we need not trouble about +the Squire. I wish with all my heart to make +his home sure to him as long as he lives. You +are a lawyer, you know what ought to be +done." + +"Good girl! I knew what you would say +and do, or I should not have told you the +trouble there was at Rawdon. Now, I propose +we all make a visit to Rawdon Court, see +the Squire and the property, and while there +perfect such arrangements as seem kindest +and wisest. Ruth, how soon can we be ready +to sail?" + +"Father, do you really mean that we are +to go to England?" + +"It is the only thing to do. I must see that +all is as Mostyn says. I must not let you +throw your money away." + +"That is only prudent," said Ruth, "and +we can be ready for the first steamer if you +wish it." + +"I am delighted, father. I long to see +England; more than all, I long to see Rawdon. +I did not know until this moment how +much I loved it." + +"Well, then, I will have all ready for us +to sail next Saturday. Say nothing about it +to Mostyn. He will call to-morrow morning +to bid you good-by before leaving for Newport +with McLean. Try and be out." + +"I shall certainly be out," said Ethel. +"I do not wish ever to see his face again, and +I must see grandmother and tell her what we +are going to do." + +"I dare say she guesses already. She advised +me to ask you about the mortgage. She +knew what you would say." + +"Father, who are the Tyrrel-Rawdons?" + +Then the Judge told the story of the young +Tyrrel-Rawdon, who a century ago had lost +his world for Love, and Ethel said "she +liked him better than any Rawdon she had +ever heard of." + +"Except your father, Ethel." + +"Except my father; my dear, good father. +And I am glad that Love did not always make +them poor. They must now be rich, if they +want to buy the Court." + +"They are rich manufacturers. Mostyn +is much annoyed that the Squire has begun +to notice them. He says one of the grandsons +of the Tyrrel-Rawdons, disinherited for +love's sake, came to America some time in +the forties. I asked your grandmother if +this story was true. She said it is quite true; +that my father was his friend in the matter, +and that it was his reports about America +which made them decide to try their fortune +in New York." + +"Does she know what became of him?" + +"No. In his last letter to them he said he +had just joined a party going to the gold +fields of California. That was in 1850. He +never wrote again. It is likely he perished +on the terrible journey across the plains. +Many thousands did." + +"When I am in England I intend to call +upon these Tyrrel-Rawdons. I think I shall +like them. My heart goes out to them. I am +proud of this bit of romance in the family." + +"Oh, there is plenty of romance behind +you, Ethel. When you see the old Squire +standing at the entrance to the Manor House, +you may see the hags of Cressy and Agincourt, +of Marston and Worcester behind him. +And the Rawdon women have frequently been +daughters of Destiny. Many of them have +lived romances that would be incredible if +written down. Oh, Ethel, dear, we cannot, +we cannot for our lives, let the old home fall +into the hands of strangers. At any rate, if +on inspection we think it wrong to interfere, +I can at least try and get the children of the +disinherited Tyrrel back to their home. Shall +we leave it at this point for the present?" + +This decision was agreeable to all, and +then the few preparations necessary for the +journey were talked over, and in this happy +discussion the evening passed rapidly. The +dream of Ethel's life had been this visit to +the home of her family, and to go as its savior +was a consummation of the pleasure that +filled her with loving pride. She could not +sleep for her waking dreams. She made all +sorts of resolutions about the despised Tyrrel- +Rawdons. She intended to show the +proud, indolent world of the English land- +aristocracy that Americans, just as well born +as themselves, respected business energy and +enterprise; and she had other plans and +propositions just as interesting and as full of +youth's impossible enthusiasm. + +In the morning she went to talk the subject +over with her grandmother. The old +lady received the news with affected indif- +ference. She said, "It mattered nothing +to her who sat in Rawdon's seat; but she +would not hear Mostyn blamed for seeking +his right. Money and sentiment are no kin," +she added, "and Fred has no sentiment about +Rawdon. Why should he? Only last summer +Rawdon kept him out of Parliament, +and made him spend a lot of money beside. +He's right to get even with the family if he +can." + +"But the old Squire! He is now----" + +"I know; he's older than I am. But +Squire Percival has had his day, and Fred +would not do anything out of the way to +him--he could not; the county would make +both Mostyn and Rawdon very uncomfortable +places to live in, if he did." + +"If you turn a man out of his home when +he is eighty years old, I think that is `out of +the way.' And Mr. Mostyn is not to be +trusted. I wouldn't trust him as far as I +could see him." + +"Highty-tighty! He has not asked you +to trust him. You lost your chance there, +miss." + +"Grandmother, I am astonished at you!" + +"Well, it was a mean thing to say, Ethel; +but I like Fred, and I see the rest of my +family are against him. It's natural for +Yorkshire to help the weakest side. But +there, Fred can do his own fighting, I'll warrant. +He's not an ordinary man." + +"I'm sorry to say he isn't, grandmother. +If he were he would speak without a drawl, +and get rid of his monocle, and not pay such +minute attention to his coats and vests and +walking sticks." + +Then Ethel proceeded to explain her resolves +with regard to the Tyrrel-Rawdons. +"I shall pay them the greatest attention," +she said. "It was a noble thing in young +Tyrrel-Rawdon to give up everything for +honorable love, and I think everyone ought +to have stood by him." + +"That wouldn't have done at all. If Tyrrel +had been petted as you think he ought to +have been, every respectable young man and +woman in the county would have married +where their fancy led them; and the fancies +of young people mostly lead them to the road +it is ruin to take." + +"From what Fred Mostyn says, Tyrrel's +descendants seem to have taken a very respectable +road." + +"I've nothing to say for or against them. +It's years and years since I laid eyes on any +of the family. Your grandfather helped one +of the young men to come to America, and +I remember his mother getting into a passion +about it. She was a fat woman in a +Paisley shawl and a love-bird on her bonnet. +I saw his sister often. She weighed about +twelve stone, and had red hair and red +cheeks and bare red elbows. She was called +a `strapping lass.' That is quite a complimentary +term in the West Riding." + +"Please, grandmother, I don't want to +hear any more. In two weeks I shall be able +to judge for myself. Since then there have +been two generations, and if a member of +the present one is fit for Parliament----" + +"That's nothing. We needn't look for +anything specially refined in Parliament in +these days. There's another thing. These +Tyrrel-Rawdons are chapel people. The rector +of Rawdon church would not marry Tyrrel +to his low-born love, and so they went to +the Methodist preacher, and after that to the +Methodist chapel. That put them down, more +than you can imagine here in America." + +"It was a shame! Methodists are most +respectable people." + +"I'm saying nothing contrary." + +"The President is a Methodist." + +"I never asked what he was. I am a +Church of England woman, you know that. +Born and bred in the Church, baptized, +confirmed, and married in the Church, and I +was always taught it was the only proper +Church for gentlemen and gentlewomen to be +saved in. However, English Methodists often +go back to the Church when they get rich." + +"Church or chapel makes no difference to +me, grandmother. If people are only good." + +"To be sure; but you won't be long in England +until you'll find out that some things +make a great deal of difference. Do you +know your father was here this morning? +He wanted me to go with you--a likely, +thing." + +"But, grandmother, do come. We will +take such good care of you, and----" + +"I know, but I'd rather keep my old +memories of Yorkshire than get new-fashioned +ones. All is changed. I can tell that +by what Fred says. My three great friends +are dead. They have left children and grandchildren, +of course, but I don't want to make +new acquaintances at my age, unless I have +the picking of them. No, I shall get Miss +Hillis to go with me to my little cabin on the +Jersey coast. We'll take our knitting and +the fresh novels, and I'll warrant we'll see +as much of the new men and women in them +as will more than satisfy us. But you must +write me long letters, and tell me everything +about the Squire and the way he keeps house, +and I don't care if you fill up the paper with +the Tyrrel-Rawdons." + +"I will write you often, Granny, and tell +you everything." + +"I shouldn't wonder if you come across +Dora Stanhope, but I wouldn't ask her to +Rawdon. She'll mix some cup of bother if +you do." + +"I know." + +In such loving and intimate conversation +the hours sped quickly, and Ethel could not +bear to cut short her visit. It was nearly five +when she left Gramercy Park, but the day +being lovely, and the avenue full of carriages +and pedestrians, she took the drive at its +enforced tardiness without disapproval. +Almost on entering the avenue from Madison +Square there was a crush, and her carriage +came to a standstill. She was then opposite +the store of a famous English saddler, and +near her was an open carriage occupied by a +middle-aged gentleman in military uniform. +He appeared to be waiting for someone, and +in a moment or two a young man came out of +the saddlery store, and with a pleasant laugh +entered the carriage. It was the Apollo of +her dreams, the singer of the Holland House +pavement. She could not doubt it. His face, +his figure, his walk, and the pleasant smile +with which he spoke to his companion were all +positive characteristics. She had forgotten +none of them. His dress was altered to suit +the season, but that was an improvement; +for divested of his heavy coat, and clothed +only in a stylish afternoon suit, his tall, fine +figure showed to great advantage; and Ethel +told herself that he was even handsomer than +she had supposed him to be. + +Almost as soon as he entered his carriage +there was a movement, and she hoped her +driver might advance sufficiently to make +recognition possible, but some feeling, she +knew not what, prevented her giving any +order leading to this result. Perhaps she had +an instinctive presentiment that it was best +to leave all to Destiny. Toward the upper +part of the avenue the carriage of her eager +observation came to a stand before a warehouse +of antique furniture and bric-a-brac, +and, as it did so, a beautiful woman ran down +the steps, and Apollo, for so Ethel had men- +tally called him, went hurriedly to meet her. +Finally her coachman passed the party, and +there was a momentary recognition. He was +bending forward, listening to something the +lady was saying, when the vehicles almost +touched each other. He flashed a glance at +them, and met the flash of Ethel's eyes full of +interest and curiosity. + +It was over in a moment, but in that moment +Ethel saw his astonishment and delight, +and felt her own eager questioning answered. +Then she was joyous and full of hope, for +"these two silent meetings are promises," she +said to Ruth. "I feel sure I shall see him +again, and then we shall speak to each other." + +"I hope you are not allowing yourself to +feel too much interest in this man, Ethel; he +is very likely married." + +"Oh, no! I am sure he is not, Ruth." + +"How can you be sure? You know nothing +about him." + +"I cannot tell HOW I know, nor WHY I know, +but I believe what I feel; and he is as much +interested in me as I am in him. I confess +that is a great deal." + +"You may never see him again." + +"I shall expect to see him next winter, he +evidently lives in New York." + +"The lady you saw may be his wife. Don't +be interested in any man on unknown ground, +Ethel. It is not prudent--it is not right." + +"Time will show. He will very likely be +looking for me this summer at Newport and +elsewhere. He will be glad to see me when I +come home. Don't worry, Ruth. It is all +right." + +"Fred called soon after you went out this +morning. He left for Newport this afternoon. +He will be at sea now." + +"And we shall be there in a few days. +When I am at the seaside I always feel a +delicious torpor; yet Nelly Baldwin told me +she loved an Atlantic passage because she had +such fun on board. You have crossed several +times, Ruth; is it fun or torpor?" + +"All mirth at sea soon fades away, Ethel. +Passengers are a very dull class of people, +and they know it; they rebel against it, but +every hour it becomes more natural to be dull. +Very soon all mentally accommodate themselves +to being bored, dreamy and dreary. +Then, as soon as it is dark, comes that old +mysterious, hungering sound of the sea; and +I for one listen till I can bear it no longer, +and so steal away to bed with a pain in my +heart." + +"I think I shall like the ocean. There are +games, and books, and company, and dinners, +and other things." + +"Certainly, and you can think yourself +happy, until gradually a contented cretinism +steals over you, body and mind." + +"No, no!" said Ethel enthusiastically. +"I shall do according to Swinburne-- + + "`Have therefore in my heart, and in my mouth, + The sound of song that mingles North and South; + And in my Soul the sense of all the Sea!'" + + +And Ruth laughed at her dramatic attitude, +and answered: "The soul of all the sea is a +contented cretinism, Ethel. But in ten days +we may be in Yorkshire. And then, my dear, +you may meet your Prince--some fine Yorkshire +gentleman." + +"I have strictly and positively promised +myself that my Prince shall be a fine American +gentleman." + +"My dear Ethel, it is very seldom + + "`the time, and the place, + And the Loved One, come together.'" + + +"I live in the land of good hope, Ruth, and +my hopes will be realized." + +"We shall see." + + + +PART THIRD + + +"I WENT DOWN INTO THE GARDEN +TO SEE IF THE POMEGRANATES BUDDED. +Song of Solomon, VI. 11. + + + +CHAPTER VII + +IT was a lovely afternoon on the last day +of May. The sea and all the toil and travail +belonging to it was overpass, and Judge Rawdon, +Ruth and Ethel were driving in lazy, +blissful contentment through one of the +lovely roads of the West Riding. On either +hand the beautifully cut hedges were white +and sweet, and a caress of scent--the soul of +the hawthorne flower enfolded them. Robins +were singing on the topmost sprays, and the +linnet's sweet babbling was heard from the +happy nests in its secret places; while from +some unseen steeple the joyful sound of +chiming bells made music between heaven +and earth fit for bands of traveling angels. + +They had dined at a wayside inn on jugged +hare, roast beef, and Yorkshire pudding, +clotted cream and haver (oaten) bread, and +the careless stillness of physical well-being +and of minds at ease needed no speech, but +the mutual smiling nod of intimate sympathy. +For the sense of joy and beauty which makes +us eloquent is far inferior to that sense which +makes us silent. + +This exquisite pause in life was suddenly +ended by an exclamation from the Judge. +They were at the great iron gates of Rawdon +Park, and soon were slowly traversing its +woody solitudes. The soft light, the unspeakable +green of the turf, the voice of ancient +days murmuring in the great oak trees, the +deer asleep among the ferns, the stillness of +the summer afternoon filling the air with +drowsy peace this was the atmosphere into +which they entered. Their road through this +grand park of three hundred acres was a wide, +straight avenue shaded with beech trees. The +green turf on either hand was starred with +primroses. In the deep undergrowth, ferns +waved and fanned each other, and the scent +of hidden violets saluted as they passed. +Drowsily, as if half asleep, the blackbirds +whistled their couplets, and in the thickest +hedges the little brown thrushes sang softly +to their brooding mates. For half an hour +they kept this heavenly path, and then a sudden +turn brought them their first sight of the +old home. + +It was a stately, irregular building of red +brick, sandaled and veiled in ivy. The nu- +merous windows were all latticed, the chimneys +in picturesque stacks, the sloping roof +made of flags of sandstone. It stood in the +center of a large garden, at the bottom of +which ran a babbling little river--a cheerful +tongue of life in the sweet, silent place. They +crossed it by a pretty bridge, and in a few +minutes stood at the great door of the mansion. +It was wide open, and the Squire, with +outstretched hands, rose to meet them. While +yet upon the threshold he kissed both Ethel +and Ruth, and, clasping the Judge's hand, +gazed at him with such a piercing, kindly +look that the eyes of both men filled with +tears. + +He led them into the hall, and standing +there he seemed almost a part of it. In his +youth he had been a son of Anak, and his +great size had been matched by his great +strength. His stature was still large, his face +broad and massive, and an abundance of +snow-white hair emphasized the dignity of a +countenance which age had made nobler. The +generations of eight hundred years were crystallized +in this benignant old man, looking +with such eager interest into the faces of his +strange kindred from a far-off land. + +In the evening they sat together in the old +hall talking of the Rawdons. "There is +great family of us, living and dead," said the +Squire, "and I count them all my friends. +Bare is the back that has no kin behind it. +That is not our case. Eight hundred years +ago there was a Rawdon in Rawdon, and one +has never been wanting since. Saxon, Danish, +Norman, and Stuart kings have been and +gone their way, and we remain; and I can +tell you every Rawdon born since the House +of Hanover came to England. We have had +our share in all England's strife and glory, +for if there was ever a fight going on anywhere +Rawdon was never far off. Yes, we +can string the centuries together in the battle +flags we have won. See there!" he cried, +pointing to two standards interwoven above +the central chimney-piece; "one was taken +from the Paynim in the first Crusade, and +the other my grandson took in Africa. It +seems but yesterday, and Queen Victoria gave +him the Cross for it. Poor lad, he had it on +when he died. It went to the grave with him. +I wouldn't have it touched. I fancy the Rawdons +would know it. No one dare say they +don't. I think they meddle a good deal more +with this life than we count on." + +The days that followed were days in The +House Wonderful. It held the treasure-trove +of centuries; all its rooms were full of secrets. +Even the common sitting-room had an antique +homeliness that provoked questions as +to the dates of its furniture and the whereabouts +of its wall cupboards and hidden recesses. +Its china had the marks of forgotten +makers, its silver was puzzling with half- +obliterated names and dates, its sideboard of +oak was black with age and full of table +accessories, the very names of which were +forgotten. For this house had not been built in +the ordinary sense, it had grown through +centuries; grown out of desire and necessity, +just as a tree grows, and was therefore fit and +beautiful. And it was no wonder that about +every room floated the perfume of ancient +things and the peculiar family aura that had +saturated all the inanimate objects around +them. + +In a few days, life settled itself to orderly +occupations. The Squire was a late riser; the +Judge and his family breakfasted very early. +Then the two women had a ride in the park, +or wandered in the garden, or sat reading, or +sewing, or writing in some of the sweet, fair +rooms. Many visitors soon appeared, and +there were calls to return and courtesies to +accept. Among these visitors the Tyrrel- +Rawdons were the earliest. The representatives +of that family were Nicholas Rawdon +and his wife Lydia. Nicholas Rawdon was a +large, stout man, very arrogant, very complete, +very alert for this world, and not caring +much about the other. He was not pleased +at Judge Rawdon's visit, but thought it best +to be cousinly until his cousin interfered with +his plans--"rights" he called them--"and +then!" and his "THEN" implied a great +deal, for Nicholas Rawdon was a man incapable +of conceiving the idea of loving an +enemy. + +His wife was a pleasant, garrulous woman, +who interested Ethel very much. Her family +was her chief topic of conversation. She had +two daughters, one of whom had married a +baronet, "a man with money and easy to +manage"; and the other, "a rich cotton lord +in Manchester." + +"They haven't done badly," she said +confidentially, "and it's a great thing to get girls +off your hands early. Adelaide and Martha +were well educated and suitable, but, "she +added with a glow of pride, "you should see +my John Thomas. He's manager of the mill, +and he loves the mill, and he knows every +pound of warp or weft that comes in or goes +out of the mill; and what his father would +do without him, I'm sure I don't know. And +he is a member of Parliament, too--Radical +ticket. Won over Mostyn. Wiped Mostyn +out pretty well. That was a thing to do, +wasn't it?" + +"I suppose Mr. Mostyn was the Conservative +candidate?" + +"You may be sure of that. But my John +Thomas doesn't blame him for it--the gentry +have to be Conservatives. John Thomas said +little against his politics; he just set the crowd +laughing at his ways--his dandified ways. +And he tried to wear one eyeglass, and let it +fall, and fall, and then told the men `he +couldn't manage half a pair of spectacles; +but he could manage their interests and fight +for their rights,' and such like talk. And he +walked like Mostyn, and he talked like Mostyn, +and spread out his legs, and twirled his +walking stick like Mostyn, and asked them +`if they would wish him to go to Parliament +in that kind of a shape, as he'd try and do it +if they wanted a tailor-made man'; and they +laughed him down, and then he spoke reasonable +to them. John Thomas knows what +Yorkshire weavers want, and he just prom- +ised them everything they had set their hearts +on; and so they sent him to Parliament, and +Mostyn went to America, where, perhaps, +they'll teach him that a man's life is worth +a bit more than a bird or a rabbit. Mostyn +is all for preserving game, and his father was +a mean creature. When one thinks of his +father, one has to excuse the young man a +little bit." + +"I saw a good deal of Mr. Mostyn in New +York," said Ethel. "He used to speak highly +of his father." + +"I'll warrant he did; and he ought to keep +at it, for he's the only one in this world that +will use his tongue for that end. Old Samuel +Mostyn never learned to live godly or even +manly, but after his death he ceased to do +evil, and that, I've no doubt, often feels like +a blessing to them that had to live anyway +near to him. But my John Thomas!" + +"Oh," cried Ethel, laughing, "you must +not tell me so much about John Thomas; he +might not like it." + +"John Thomas can look all he does and +all he says straight in the face. You may +talk of him all day, and find nothing to say +that a good girl like you might not listen to. +I should have brought him with us, but he's +away now taking a bit of a holiday. I'm sure +he needs it." + +"Where is he taking his holiday?" + +"Why, he went with a cousin to show +him the sights of London; but somehow they +got through London sights very quick, and +thought they might as well put Paris in. I +wish they hadn't. I don't trust foreigners and +foreign ways, and they don't have the same +kind of money as ours; but Nicholas says I +needn't worry; he is sure that our John +Thomas, if change is to make, will make it to +suit himself." + +"How soon will he be home?" + +"I might say to-day or any other early +day. He's been idling for a month now, and +his father says `the very looms are calling +out for him.' I'll bring him to see you just +as soon as he comes home, looms or no looms, +and he'll be fain to come. No one appreciates +a pretty girl more than John Thomas does." + +So the days passed sweetly and swiftly onward, +and there was no trouble in them. Such +business as was to be done went on behind +the closed doors of the Squire's office, and +with no one present but himself, Judge Rawdon, +and the attorneys attached to the Rawdon +and Mostyn estates. And as there were +no entanglements and no possible reason for +disputing, a settlement was quickly arrived +at. Then, as Mostyn's return was uncertain, +an attorney's messenger, properly accredited, +was sent to America to procure his signatures. +Allowing for unforeseen delays, the perfected +papers of release might certainly be on hand +by the fifteenth of July, and it was proposed +on the first of August to give a dinner and +dance in return for the numerous courtesies +the American Rawdons had received. + +As this date approached Ruth and Ethel +began to think of a visit to London. They +wanted new gowns and many other pretty +things, and why not go to London for them? +The journey was but a few hours, and two or +three days' shopping in Regent Street and +Piccadilly would be delightful. "We will +make out a list of all we need this afternoon," +said Ruth, "and we might as well go to-morrow +morning as later," and at this moment a +servant entered with the mail. Ethel lifted +her letter with an exclamation. "It is from +Dora," she said, and her voice had a tone of +annoyance in it. "Dora is in London, at the +Savoy. She wants to see me very much." + +"I am so sorry. We have been so happy." + +"I don't think she will interfere much, +Ruth." + +"My dears," said Judge Rawdon, "I have +a letter from Fred Mostyn. He is coming +home. He will be in London in a day or two." + +"Why is he coming, father?" + +"He says he has a proposal to make about +the Manor. I wish he were not coming. No +one wants his proposal." Then the breakfast- +table, which had been so gay, became silent +and depressed, and presently the Judge went +away without exhibiting further interest in +the London journey. + +"I do wish Dora would let us alone," said +Ruth. "She always brings disappointment +or worry of some kind. And I wonder what +is the meaning of this unexpected London +visit. I thought she was in Holland." + +"She said in her last letter that London +would be impossible before August." + +"Is it an appointment--or a coincidence?" + +And Ethel, lifting her shoulders sarcastically, +as if in hostile surrender to the inevitable, +answered: + +"It is a fatality!" + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THREE days afterward Ethel called on Dora +Stanhope at the Savoy. She found her alone, +and she had evidently been crying. Indeed, she +frankly admitted the fact, declaring that she +had been "so bored and so homesick, that she +relieved she had cried her beauty away." She +glanced at Ethel's radiant face and neat fresh +toilet with envy, and added, "I am so glad +to see you, Ethel. But I was sure that you +would come as soon as you knew I wanted +you." + +"Oh, indeed, Dora, you must not make +yourself too sure of such a thing as that! I +really came to London to get some new gowns. +I have been shopping all morning." + +"I thought you had come in answer to my +letter. I was expecting you. That is the +reason I did not go out with Basil." + +"Don't you expect a little too much, Dora? +I have a great many interests and duties----" + +"I used to be first." + +"When a girl marries she is supposed +to----" + +"Please don't talk nonsense. Basil does +not take the place of everyone and everything +else. I think we are often very tired of each +other. This morning, when I was telling him +what trouble I had with my maid, Julia, he +actually yawned. He tried to smother the +yawn, but he could not, and of course the +honeymoon is over when your bridegroom +yawns in your face while you are telling him +your troubles." + +"I should think you would be glad it was +over. Of all the words in the English language +`honeymoon' is the most ridiculous +and imbecile." + +"I suppose when you get married you will +take a honeymoon." + +"I shall have more sense and more selfishness. +A girl could hardly enter a new life +through a medium more trying. I am sure it +would need long-tested affections and the +sweetest of tempers to make it endurable." + +"I cannot imagine what you mean." + +"I mean that all traveling just after marriage +is a great blunder. Traveling makes +the sunniest disposition hasty and peevish, +for women don't love changes as men do. +Not one in a thousand is seen at her best +while traveling, and the majority are seen at +their very worst. Then there is the discomfort +and desolation of European hotels-- +their mysterious methods and hours, and the +ways of foreigners, which are not as our +ways." + +"Don't talk of them, Ethel. They are +dreadful places, and such queer people." + +"Add to these troubles ignorance of language +and coinage, the utter weariness of +railway travel, the plague of customs, the +trunk that won't pack, the trains that won't +wait, the tiresome sight-seeing, the climatic +irritability, broiling suns, headache, loneliness, +fretfulness--consequently the pitiful +boredom of the new husband." + +"Ethel, what you say is certainly too true. +I am weary to death of it all. I want to be +at Newport with mother, who is having a +lovely time there. Of course Basil is very +nice to me, and yet there have been little tiffs +and struggles--very gentle ones--for the mastery, +which he is not going to get. To-day he +wanted me to go with him and Canon Shackleton +to see something or other about the poor +of London. I would not do it. I am so lonely, +Ethel, I want to see some one. I feel fit to +cry all the time. I like Basil best of anyone +in the world, but----" + +"But in the solitude of a honeymoon among +strangers you find out that the person you like +best in the world can bore you as badly as +the person you don't like at all. Is that so?" + +"Exactly. Just fancy if we were among +our friends in Newport. I should have some +pleasure in dressing and looking lovely. Why +should I dress here? There is no one to see +me." + +"Basil." + +"Of course, but Basil spends all the time +in visiting cathedrals and clergymen. If we +go out, it is to see something about the poor, +or about schools and such like. We were not +in London two hours until he was off to Westminster +Abbey, and I didn't care a cent about +the old place. He says I must not ask him to +go to theaters, but historical old houses don't +interest me at all. What does it matter if +Cromwell slept in a certain ancient shabby +room? And as for all the palaces I have +seen, my father's house is a great deal handsomer, +and more convenient, and more comfortable, +and I wish I were there. I hate Europe, +and England I hate worst of all." + +"You have not seen England. We are all +enraptured with its beauty and its old houses +and pleasant life." + +"You are among friends--at home, as it +were. I have heard all about Rawdon Court. +Fred Mostyn told me. He is going to buy it." + +"When?" + +"Some time this fall. Then next year he +will entertain us, and that will be a little different +to this desolate hotel, I think." + +"How long will you be in London?" + +"I cannot say. We are invited to Stanhope +Castle, but I don't want to go there. +We stayed with the Stanhopes a week when +we first came over. They were then in their +London house, and I got enough of them." + +"Did you dislike the family?" + +"No, I cared nothing about them. They +just bored me. They are extremely religious. +We had prayers night and morning, and a +prayer before and after every meal. They +read only very good books, and the Honorable +Misses Stanhope sew for the poor old women +and teach the poor young ones. They work +harder than anyone I ever knew, and they call +it `improving the time.' They thought me a +very silly, reckless young woman, and I think +they all prayed for me. One night after they +had sung some very nice songs they asked me +to play, and I began with `My Little Brown +Rose'--you know they all adore the negro-- +and little by little I dropped into the funniest +coon songs I knew, and oh how they laughed! +Even the old lord stroked his knees and +laughed out loud, while the young ladies +laughed into their handkerchiefs. Lady +Stanhope was the only one who comprehended +I was guying them; and she looked at +me with half-shut eyes in a way that would +have spoiled some girls' fun. It only made +me the merrier. So I tried to show them a +cake walk, but the old lord rose then and said +`I must be tired, and they would excuse me.' +Somehow I could not manage him. Basil +was at a workman's concert, and when he +came home I think there were some advices +and remonstrances, but Basil never told me. +I felt as if they were all glad when I went +away, and I don't wish to go to the Castle-- +and I won't go either." + +"But if Basil wishes to go----" + +"He can go alone. I rather think Fred +Mostyn will be here in a few days, and he will +take me to places that Basil will not--innocent +places enough, Ethel, so you need not +look so shocked. Why do you not ask me to +Rawdon Court?" + +"Because I am only a guest there. I have +no right to ask you." + +"I am sure if you told Squire Rawdon how +fond you are of me, and how lonely I am, he +would tell you to send for me." + +"I do not believe he would. He has old- +fashioned ideas about newly married people. +He would hardly think it possible that you +would be willing to go anywhere without +Basil--yet." + +"He could ask Basil too." + +"If Mr. Mostyn is coming home, he can +ask you to Mostyn Hall. It is very near +Rawdon Court." + +"Yes. Fred said as soon as he had possession +of the Court he could put both places +into a ring fence. Then he would live at the +Court. If he asks us there next summer I +shall be sure to beg an invitation for you also; +so I think you might deserve it by getting me +one now. I don't want to go to Mostyn yet. +Fred says it needs entire refurnishing, and if +we come to the Court next summer, I have +promised to give him my advice and help in +making the place pretty and up to date. Have +you seen Mostyn Hall?" + +"I have passed it several times. It is a +large, gloomy-looking place I was going to +say haunted-looking. It stands in a grove of +yew trees." + +"So you are not going to ask me to Rawdon +Court?" + +"I really cannot, Dora. It is not my +house. I am only a guest there." + +"Never mind. Make no more excuses. I +see how it is. You always were jealous of +Fred's liking for me. And of course when +he goes down to Mostyn you would prefer me +to be absent." + +"Good-by, Dora! I have a deal of shopping +to do, and there is not much time before +the ball, for many things will be to make." + +"The ball! What ball?" + +"Only one at Rawdon Court. The neighbors +have been exceedingly kind to us, and +the Squire is going to give a dinner and ball +on the first of August." + +"Sit down and tell me about the neighbors +--and the ball." + +"I cannot. I promised Ruth to be back at +five. Our modiste is to see us at that hour." + +"So Ruth is with you! Why did she not +call on me?" + +"Did you think I should come to London +alone? And Ruth did not call because she +was too busy." + +"Everyone and everything comes before +me now. I used to be first of all. I wish I +were in Newport with dad and mamma; even +Bryce would be a comfort." + +"As I said before, you have Mr. Stanhope." + +"Are you going to send for me to the +ball?" + +"I cannot promise that, Dora. Good-by." + +Dora did not answer. She buried her face +in the soft pillow, and Ethel closed the door +to the sound of her sobs. But they did not +cause her to return or to make any foolish +promises. She divined their insincerity and +their motive, and had no mind to take any +part in forwarding the latter. + +And Ruth assured her she had acted wisely. +"If trouble should ever come of this friendship," +she said, "Dora would very likely +complain that you had always thrown Mostyn +in her way, brought him to her house in +New York, and brought her to him at Rawdon, +in England. Marriage is such a risk, +Ethel, but to marry without the courage to +adapt oneself. AH!" + +"You think that condition unspeakably +hard?" + +"There are no words for it." + +"Dora was not reticent, I assure you." + +"I am sorry. A wife's complaints are self- +inflicted wounds; scattered seeds, from which +only misery can spring. I hope you will not +see her again at this time." + +"I made no promise to do so." + +"And where all is so uncertain, we had +better suppose all is right than that all is +wrong. Even if there was the beginning of +wrong, it needs but an accident to prevent it, +and there are so many." + +"Accidents!" + +"Yes, for accident is God's part in affairs. +We call it accident; it would be better to say +an interposition." + +"Dora told me Mostyn intended to buy +Rawdon Court in September, and he has even +invited the Stanhopes to stay there next summer." + +"What did you say?" + +"Nothing against it." + +"Very good. Do you think Mostyn is in +London now?" + +"I should not wonder. I am sure Dora is +expecting him." + +In fact, the next morning they met Dora +and Basil Stanhope, driving in Hyde Park +with Mostyn, but the smiling greeting which +passed between the parties did not, except in +the case of Basil Stanhope, fairly represent +the dominant feeling of anyone. As for +Stanhope, his nature was so clear and truthful +that he would hardly have comprehended +a smile which was intended to veil feelings +not to be called either quite friendly or quite +pleasant. After this meeting all the joy went +out of Ruth and Ethel's shopping. They +wanted to get back to the Court, and they +attended strictly to business in order to do so. + +Mostyn followed them very quickly. He +was exceedingly anxious to see and hear for +himself how his affairs regarding Rawdon +stood. They were easily made plain to him, +and he saw with a pang of disappointment +that all his hopes of being Squire of Rawdon +Manor were over. Every penny he could +righteously claim was paid to him, and on the +title deeds of the ancient place he had no +longer the shadow of a claim. The Squire +looked ten years younger as he affectionately +laid both hands on the redeemed parchments, +and Mostyn with enforced politeness +congratulated him on their integrity and then +made a hurried retreat. Of its own kind this +disappointment was as great as the loss of +Dora. He could think of neither without a +sense of immeasurable and disastrous failure. +One petty satisfaction regarding the +payment of the mortgage was his only com- +fort. He might now show McLean that it +was not want of money that had made him +hitherto shy of "the good investments" offered +him. He had been sure McLean in +their last interview had thought so, and had, +indeed, felt the half-veiled contempt with +which the rich young man had expressed his +pity for Mostyn's inability to take advantage +at the right moment of an exceptional chance +to play the game of beggaring his neighbor. +Now, he told himself, he would show McLean +and his braggart set that good birth and old +family was for once allied with plenty of +money, and he also promised his wounded +sensibilities some very desirable reprisals, +every one of which he felt fully competent +to take. + +It was, after all, a poor compensation, but +there was also the gold. He thanked his +father that day for the great thoughtfulness +and care with which he had amassed this +sum for him, and he tried to console himself +with the belief that gold answered all purposes, +and that the yellow metal was a better +possession than the house and lands which +he had longed for with an inherited and insensate +craving. + +Two days after this event Ethel, at her +father's direction, signed a number of papers, +and when that duty was completed, the +Squire rose from his chair, kissed her hands +and her cheeks, and in a voice full of tenderness +and pride said, "I pay my respects to +the future lady of Rawdon Manor, and I +thank God for permitting me to see this hour. +Most welcome, Lady Ethel, to the rights you +inherit, and the rights you have bought." It +was a moment hardly likely to be duplicated +in any life, and Ethel escaped from its tense +emotions as soon as possible. She could not +speak, her heart was too full of joy and wonder. +There are souls that say little and love +much. How blessed are they! + +On the following morning the invitations +were sent for the dinner and dance, but the +time was put forward to the eighth of August. +In everyone's heart there was a hope +that before that day Mostyn would have left +Rawdon, but the hope was barely mentioned. +In the meantime he came and went between +Mostyn and Rawdon as he desired, and was +received with that modern politeness which +considers it best to ignore offenses that our +grandfathers and grandmothers would have +held for strict account and punishment. + +It was evident that he had frequent letters +from Dora. He knew all her movements, and +spoke several times of opening Mostyn Hall +and inviting the Stanhopes to stay with him +until their return to America. But as this +suggestion did not bring from any member of +the Rawdon family the invitation hoped for, +it was not acted upon. He told himself the +expense would be great, and the Hall, in +spite of all he could do in the interim, would +look poor and shabby compared with Rawdon +Court; so he put aside the proposal on the +ground that he could not persuade his aunt +to do the entertaining necessary. And for +all the irritation and humiliations centering +round his loss of Rawdon and his inabilities +with regard to Dora he blamed Ethel. He was +sure if he had been more lovable and encouraging +he could have married her, and thus +finally reached Rawdon Court; and then, with +all the unreason imaginable, nursed a hearty +dislike to her because she would not understand +his desires, and provide means for their +satisfaction. The bright, joyous girl with +her loving heart, her abounding vitality, and +constant cheerfulness, made him angry. In +none of her excellencies he had any share, +consequently he hated her. + +He would have quickly returned to London, +but Dora and her husband were staying with +the Stanhopes, and her letters from Stanhope +Castle were lachrymose complaints of +the utter weariness and dreariness of life +there the preaching and reading aloud, the +regular walking and driving--all the innocent +method of lives which recognized they +were here for some higher purpose than mere +physical enjoyment. And it angered Mostyn +that neither Ruth nor Ethel felt any sympathy +for Dora's ennui, and proposed no +means of releasing her from it. He considered +them both disgustingly selfish and ill- +natured, and was certain that all their +reluctance at Dora's presence arose from their +jealousy of her beauty and her enchanting +grace. + +On the afternoon of the day preceding the +intended entertainment Ruth, Ethel, and the +Squire were in the great dining-room superintending +its decoration. They were merrily +laughing and chatting, and were not aware +of the arrival of any visitors until Mrs. +Nicholas Rawdon's rosy, good-natured face +appeared at the open door. Everyone welcomed +her gladly, and the Squire offered her +a seat. + +"Nay, Squire," she said, "I'm come to +ask a favor, and I won't sit till I know +whether I get it or not; for if I don't get it, +I shall say good-by as quickly as I can. Our +John Thomas came home this morning and +his friend with him, and I want invitations +for the young men, both of them. My great +pleasure lies that way--if you'll give it to +me." + +"Most gladly," answered the Squire, and +Ethel immediately went for the necessary +passports. When she returned she found +Mrs. Nicholas helping Ruth and the Squire +to arrange the large silver and cut crystal on +the sideboard, and talking at the same time +with unabated vivacity. + +"Yes," she was saying, "the lads would +have been here two days ago, but they stayed +in London to see some American lady married. +John Thomas's friend knew her. She +was married at the Ambassador's house. A +fine affair enough, but it bewilders me this +taking up marriage without priest or book. +It's a new commission. The Church's warrant, +it seems, is out of date. It may be right' +it may be legal, but I told John Thomas if he +ever got himself married in that kind of a +way, he wouldn't have father or me for witnesses." + +"I am glad," said the Squire, "that the +young men are home in time for our dance. +The young like such things." + +"To be sure they do. John Thomas +wouldn't give me a moment's rest till I came +here. I didn't want to come. I thought +John Thomas should come himself, and I told +him plainly that I was ready to do anyone a +favor if I could, but if he wanted me to come +because he was afraid to come himself, I was +just as ready to shirk the journey. And he +laughed and said he was not feared for any +woman living, but he did want to make his +first appearance in his best clothes--and that +was natural, wasn't it? So I came for the +two lads." Then she looked at the girls with +a smile, and said in a comfortable kind of +way: "You'll find them very nice lads, indeed. +I can speak for John Thomas, I have +taken his measure long since; and as far as +I can judge his friend, Nature went about +some full work when she made a man of him. +He's got a sweet temper, and a strong mind, +and a straight judgment, if I know anything +about men--which Nicholas sometimes makes +me think I don't. But Nicholas isn't an ordinary +man, he's what you call `an exception.'" +Then shaking her head at Ethel, +she continued reprovingly: "You were +neither of you in church Sunday. I know +some young women who went to the parish +church--Methodists they are--specially to +see your new hats. There's some talk about +them, I can tell you, and the village milliner +is pestered to copy them. She keeps her eyes +open for you. You disappointed a lot of people. +You ought to go to church in the country. +It's the most respectable thing you can +do." + +"We were both very tired," said Ruth, +"and the sun was hot, and we had a good +Sabbath at home. Ethel read the Psalms, +Epistle and Gospel for the day, and the +Squire gave us some of the grandest organ +music I ever heard." + +"Well, well! Everyone knows the Squire +is a grand player. I don't suppose there is +another to match him in the whole world, +and the old feeling about church-going is +getting slack among the young people. They +serve God now very much at their ease." + +"Is not that better than serving Him on +compulsion?" asked Ruth. + +"I dare say. I'm no bigot. I was brought +up an Independent, and went to their chapel +until I married Nicholas Rawdon. My fa- +ther was a broad-thinking man. He never +taught me to locate God in any building; and +I'm sure I don't believe our parish church +is His dwelling-place. If it is, they ought to +mend the roof and put a new carpet down +and make things cleaner and more respectable. +Well, Squire, you have silver enough +to tempt all the rogues in Yorkshire, and +there's a lot of them. But now I've seen it, +I'll go home with these bits of paper. I shall +be a very important woman to-night. Them +two lads won't know how to fleech and flatter +me enough. I'll be waited on hand and foot. +And Nicholas will get a bit of a set-down. +He was bragging about Miss Ethel bringing +his invitation to his hand and promising to +dance with him. I wouldn't do it if I were +Miss Ethel. She'll find out, if she does, what +it means to dance with a man that weighs +twenty stone, and who has never turned hand +nor foot to anything but money-making for +thirty years." + +She went away with a sweep and a rustle +of her shimmering silk skirt, and left behind +her such an atmosphere of hearty good-nature +as made the last rush and crowd of +preparations easily ordered and quickly +accomplished. Before her arrival there had +been some doubt as to the weather. She +brought the shining sun with her, and when +he set, he left them with the promise of a +splendid to-morrow--a promise amply redeemed +when the next day dawned. Indeed, +the sunshine was so brilliant, the garden so +gay and sweet, the lawn so green and firm, +the avenues so shady and full of wandering +songs, that it was resolved to hold the +preliminary reception out of doors. Ethel and +Ruth were to receive on the lawn, and at the +open hall door the Squire would wait to welcome +his guests. + +Soon after five o'clock there was a brilliant +crowd wandering and resting in the pleasant +spaces; and Ethel, wearing a diaphanously +white robe and carrying a rush basket full +of white carnations, was moving among them +distributing the flowers. She was thus the +center of a little laughing, bantering group +when the Nicholas Rawdon party arrived. +Nicholas remained with the Squire, Mrs. +Rawdon and the young men went toward +Ethel. Mrs. Rawdon made a very handsome +appearance--"an aristocratic Britannia in +white liberty silk and old lace," whispered +Ruth, and Ethel looked up quickly, to meet +her merry eyes full of some unexplained +triumph. In truth, the proud mother was +anticipating a great pleasure, not only in the +presentation of her adored son, but also in +the curiosity and astonishment she felt sure +would be evoked by his friend. So, with the +boldness of one who brings happy tidings, +she pressed forward. Ethel saw her approach, +and went to meet her. Suddenly her +steps were arrested. An extraordinary thing +was going to happen. The Apollo of her +dreams, the singer of the Holland House +pavement, was at Mrs. Rawdon's side, was +talking to her, was evidently a familiar +friend. She was going to meet him, to speak +to him at last. She would hear his name in +a few moments; all that she had hoped and +believed was coming true. And the clear, +resonant voice of Lydia Rawdon was like +music in her ears as she said, with an air of +triumph she could not hide: + +"Miss Rawdon, I want you to know my +son, Mr. John Thomas Rawdon, and also +John Thomas's cousin, Mr. Tyrrel Rawdon, +of the United States." Then Mr. Tyrrel +Rawdon looked into Ethel's face, and in that +marvelous meeting of their eyes, swift as the +firing of a gun, their pupils dilated and +flashed with recognition, and the blood rushed +crimson over both faces. She gave the gentlemen +flowers, and listened to Mrs. Rawdon's +chatter, and said in reply she knew not +what. A swift and exquisite excitement had +followed her surprise. Feelings she could +not voice were beating at her lips, and yet +she knew that without her conscious will she +had expressed her astonishment and pleasure. +It was, indeed, doubtful whether any +after speech or explanation would as clearly +satisfy both hearts as did that momentary +flash from soul to soul of mutual remembrance +and interest. + +"I thought I'd give you a surprise," said +Mrs. Rawdon delightedly. "You didn't +know the Tyrrel-Rawdons had a branch in +America, did you? We are a bit proud of +them, I can tell you that." + +And, indeed, the motherly lady had some +reason. John Thomas was a handsome youth +of symmetrical bone and flesh and well-developed +muscle. He had clear, steady, humorous +eyes; a manner frank and independent, not +to be put upon; and yet Ethel divined, though +she could not have declared, the "want" in his +appearance--that all-overish grace and elasticity +which comes only from the development +of the brain and nervous system. His face +was also marred by the seal of commonness +which trade impresses on so many men, the result +of the subjection of the intellect to the +will, and of the impossibility of grasping things +except as they relate to self. In this respect +the American cousin was his antipodes. His +whole body had a psychical expression--slim, +elastic, alert. Over his bright gray eyes the +eyelids drew themselves horizontally, showing +his dexterity and acuteness of mind; indeed, +his whole expression and mien + + "Were, as are the eagle's keen, + All the man was aquiline." + + +These personal characteristics taking some +minutes to describe were almost an instantaneous +revelation to Ethel, for what the soul +sees it sees in a flash of understanding. But +at that time she only answered her impressions +without any inquiry concerning them. +She was absorbed by the personal presence of +the men, and all that was lovely and lovable +in her nature responded to their admiration. + +As they strolled together through a flowery +alley, she made them pass their hands through +the thyme and lavender, and listen to a bird +singing its verses, loud and then soft, in the +scented air above them. They came out where +the purple plums and golden apricots were +beginning to brighten a southern wall, and +there, moodily walking by himself, they met +Mostyn face to face. An angry flash and +movement interpreted his annoyance, but he +immediately recovered himself, and met Ethel +and his late political opponent with polite +equanimity. But a decided constraint fell on +the happy party, and Ethel was relieved to +hear the first tones of the great bell swing +out from its lofty tower the call to the dining-room. + +As far as Mostyn was concerned, this first +malapropos meeting indicated the whole +evening. His heart was beating quickly to +some sense of defeat which he did not take +the trouble to analyze. He only saw the man +who had shattered his political hopes and +wasted his money in possession also of what +he thought he might rightly consider his +place at Ethel's side. He had once contemplated +making Ethel his bride, and though +the matrimonial idea had collapsed as completely +as the political one, the envious, selfish +misery of the "dog in the manger" was +eating at his heartstrings. He did not want +Ethel; but oh, how he hated the thought of +either John Thomas or that American Raw- +don winning her! His seat at the dinner- +table also annoyed him. It was far enough +from the objects of his resentment to prevent +him hearing or interfering in their merry +conversation; and he told himself with passionate +indignation that Ethel had never once +in all their intercourse been so beautiful and +bright as she revealed herself that evening +to those two Rawdon youths--one a mere +loom-master, the other an American whom +no one knew anything about. + +The long, bewitching hours of the glorious +evening added fuel to the flame of his anger. +He could only procure from Ethel the promise +of one unimportant dance at the close of +her programme; and the American had three +dances, and the mere loom-man two. And +though he attempted to restore his self- +complacency by devoting his whole attentions +to the only titled young ladies in the room, he +had throughout the evening a sense of being +snubbed, and of being a person no longer of +much importance at Rawdon Court. And the +reasoning of wounded self-love is a singular +process. Mostyn was quite oblivious of any +personal cause for the change; he attributed +it entirely to the Squire's ingratitude. + +"I did the Squire a good turn when he +needed it, and of course he hates me for the +obligation; and as for the Judge and his fine +daughter, they interfered with my business +--did me a great wrong--and they are only +illustrating the old saying, `Since I wronged +you I never liked you.'" After indulging +such thoughts awhile, he resolved to escort +the ladies Aurelia and Isolde Danvers to +Danvers Castle, and leave Miss Ethel to find +a partner for her last dance, a decision that +favored John Thomas, greatly relieved Ethel, +and bestowed upon himself that most irritating +of all punishments, a self-inflicted disappointment. + +This evening was the inauguration of a +period of undimmed delight. In it the Tyrrel- +Rawdons concluded a firm and affectionate +alliance with the elder branch at the +Court, and one day after a happy family dinner +John Thomas made the startling proposal +that "the portrait of the disinherited, +disowned Tyrrel should be restored to its +place in the family gallery." He said he had +"just walked through it, and noticed that +the spot was still vacant, and I think surely," +he added, "the young man's father must +have meant to recall him home some day, but +perhaps death took him unawares." + +"Died in the hunting-field," murmured the +Squire. + +John Thomas bowed his head to the remark, +and proceeded, "So perhaps, Squire, it may +be in your heart to forgive the dead, and +bring back the poor lad's picture to its place. +They who sin for love aren't so bad, sir, as +they who sin for money. I never heard worse +of Tyrrel Rawdon than that he loved a poor +woman instead of a rich woman--and married +her. Those that have gone before us into +the next life, I should think are good friends +together; and I wouldn't wonder if we might +even make them happier there if we conclude +to forget all old wrongs and live together +here--as Rawdons ought to live--like one +family." + +"I am of your opinion, John Thomas," +said the Squire, rising, and as he did so he +looked at the Judge, who immediately indorsed +the proposal. One after the other +rose with sweet and strong assent, until there +was only Tyrrel Rawdon's voice lacking. +But when all had spoken he rose also, and +said: + +"I am Tyrrel Rawdon's direct descendant, +and I speak for him when I say to-day, `Make +room for me among my kindred!' He that +loves much may be forgiven much." + +Then the housekeeper was called, and they +went slowly, with soft words, up to the third +story of the house. And the room unused +for a century was flung wide open; the shutters +were unbarred, and the sunshine flooded +it; and there amid his fishing tackle, guns, +and whips, and faded ballads upon the wall, +and books of wood lore and botany, and dress +suits of velvet and satin, and hunting suits +of scarlet--all faded and falling to pieces-- +stood the picture of Tyrrel Rawdon, with its +face turned to the wall. The Squire made a +motion to his descendant, and the young +American tenderly turned it to the light. +There was no decay on those painted lineaments. +The almost boyish face, with its loving +eyes and laughing mouth, was still twenty- +four years old; and with a look of pride and +affection the Squire lifted the picture and +placed it in the hands of the Tyrrel Rawdon +of the day. + +The hanging of the picture in its old place +was a silent and tender little ceremony, and +after it the party separated. Mrs. Rawdon +went with Ruth to rest a little. She said +"she had a headache," and she also wanted +a good womanly talk over the affair. The +Squire, Judge Rawdon, Mr. Nicholas Rawdon, +and John Thomas returned to the dining- +room to drink a bottle of such mild Madeira +as can only now be found in the cellars of +old county magnates, and Ethel and Tyrrel +Rawdon strolled into the garden. There had +not been in either mind any intention of +leaving the party, but as they passed through +the hall Tyrrel saw Ethel's garden hat and +white parasol lying on a table, and, impelled +by some sudden and unreasoned instinct, he +offered them to her. Not a word of request +was spoken; it was the eager, passionate command +of his eyes she obeyed. And for a few +minutes they were speechless, then so intensely +conscious that words stumbled and were +lame, and they managed only syllables at a +time. But he took her hand, and they came +by sunny alleys of boxwood to a great plane +tree, bearing at wondrous height a mighty +wealth of branches. A bank of soft, green +turf encircled its roots, and they sat down in +the trembling shadows. It was in the midst +of the herb garden; beds of mint and thyme, +rosemary and marjoram, basil, lavender, and +other fragrant plants were around, and close +at hand a little city of straw skeps peopled +by golden brown bees; From these skeps +came a delicious aroma of riced flowers and +virgin wax. It was a new Garden of Eden, +in which life was sweet as perfume and pure +as prayer. Nothing stirred the green, sunny +afternoon but the murmur of the bees, and +the sleepy twittering of the birds in the plane +branches. An inexpressible peace swept like +the breath of heaven through the odorous +places. They sat down sighing for very happiness. +The silence became too eloquent. At +length it was almost unendurable, and Ethel +said softly: + +"How still it is!" + +Tyrrel looked at her steadily with beaming +eyes. Then he took from his pocket a little +purse of woven gold and opal-tinted beads, +and held it in his open hand for her to see, +watching the bright blush that spread over +her face, and the faint, glad smile that parted +her lips. + +"You understand?" + +"Yes. It is mine." + +"It was yours. It is now mine." + +"How did you get it?" + +"I bought it from the old man you gave +it to." + +"Oh! Then you know him? How is +that?" + +"The hotel people sent a porter home with +him lest he should be robbed. Next day I made +inquiries, and this porter told me where he +lived. I went there and bought this purse +from him. I knew some day it would bring +me to you. I have carried it over my heart +ever since." + +"So you noticed me?" + +"I saw you all the time I was singing. I +have never forgotten you since that hour." + +"What made you sing?" + +"Compassion, fate, an urgent impulse; +perhaps, indeed, your piteous face--I saw it +first." + +"Really?" + +"I saw it first. I saw it all the time I was +singing. When you dropped this purse my +soul met yours in a moment's greeting. It was +a promise. I knew I should meet you again. +I have loved you ever since. I wanted to tell +you so the hour we met. It has been hard to +keep my secret so long." + +"It was my secret also." + +"I love you beyond all words. My life is +in your hands. You can make me the gladdest +of mortals. You can send me away forever." + +"Oh, no, I could not! I could not do +that!" The rest escapes words; but thus it +was that on this day of days these two came +by God's grace to each other. + + For all things come by fate to flower, + At their unconquerable hour. + +And the very atmosphere of such bliss is +diffusive; it seemed as if all the living creatures +around understood. In the thick, green +branches the birds began to twitter the secret, +and certainly the wise, wise bees knew also, +in some occult way, of the love and joy that +had just been revealed. A wonderful humming +and buzzing filled the hives, and the air +vibrated with the movement of wings. Some +influence more swift and secret than the birds +of the air carried the matter further, for it +finally reached Royal, the Squire's favorite +collie, who came sauntering down the alley, +pushed his nose twice under Ethel's elbow, +and then with a significant look backward, +advised the lovers to follow him to the house. + +When they finally accepted his invitation, +they found Mrs. Rawdon drinking a cup of +tea with Ruth in the hall. Ethel joined them +with affected high spirits and random +explanations and excuses, but both women no- +ticed her radiant face and exulting air. +"The garden is such a heavenly place," she +said ecstatically, and Mrs Rawdon remarked, +as she rose and put her cup on the table, +"Girls need chaperons in gardens if they +need them anywhere. I made Nicholas Rawdon +a promise in Mossgill Garden I've had to +spend all my life since trying to keep." + +"Tyrrel and I have been sitting under the +plane tree watching the bees. They are such +busy, sensible creatures." + +"They are that," answered Mrs. Rawdon. +"If you knew all about them you would +wonder a bit. My father had a great many; +he studied their ways and used to laugh at +the ladies of the hive being so like the ladies +of the world. You see the young lady bees +are just as inexperienced as a schoolgirl. +They get lost in the flowers, and are often so +overtaken and reckless, that the night finds +them far from the hive, heavy with pollen +and chilled with cold. Sometimes father +would lift one of these imprudent young +things, carry it home, and try to get it admitted. +He never could manage it. The lady +bees acted just as women are apt to do when +other women GO where they don't go, or DO +as they don't do." + +"But this is interesting," said Ruth. +"Pray, how did the ladies of the hive behave +to the culprit?" + +"They came out and felt her all over, +turned her round and round, and then pushed +her out of their community. There was always +a deal of buzzing about the poor, silly +thing, and I shouldn't wonder if their stings +were busy too. Bees are ill-natured as they +can be. Well, well, I don't blame anyone for +sitting in the garden such a day as this; only, +as I was saying, gardens have been very dangerous +places for women as far as I know." + +Ruth laughed softly. "I shall take a +chaperon with me, then, when I go into the +garden." + +"I would, dearie. There's the Judge; he's +a very suitable, sedate-looking one but you +never can tell. The first woman found in a +garden and a tree had plenty of sorrow for +herself and every woman that has lived after +her. I wish Nicholas and John Thomas +would come. I'll warrant they're talking +what they call politics." + +Politics was precisely the subject which +had been occupying them, for when Tyrrel +entered the dining-room, the Squire, Judge +Rawdon, and Mr. Nicholas Rawdon were all +standing, evidently just finishing a Conservative +argument against the Radical opinions +of John Thomas. The young man was still +sitting, but he rose with smiling good-humor +as Tyrrel entered. + +"Here is Cousin Tyrrel," he cried; "he +will tell you that you may call a government +anything you like radical, conservative, republican, +democratic, socialistic, but if it +isn't a CHEAP government, it isn't a good government; +and there won't be a cheap government +in England till poor men have a deal to +say about making laws and voting taxes." + +"Is that the kind of stuff you talk to our +hands, John Thomas? No wonder they are +neither to hold nor to bind." + +They were in the hall as John Thomas finished +his political creed, and in a few minutes +the adieux were said, and the wonderful +day was over. It had been a wonderful day +for all, but perhaps no one was sorry for a +pause in life--a pause in which they might +rest and try to realize what it had brought +and what it had taken away. The Squire went +at once to his room, and Ethel looked at Ruth +inquiringly. She seemed exhausted, and was +out of sympathy with all her surroundings. + +"What enormous vitality these Yorkshire +women must have!" she said almost crossly. +"Mrs. Rawdon has been talking incessantly +for six hours. She has felt all she said. She +has frequently risen and walked about. She +has used all sorts of actions to emphasize her +words, and she is as fresh as if she had just +taken her morning bath. How do the men +stand them?" + +"Because they are just as vital. John +Thomas will overlook and scold and order +his thousand hands all day, talk even his +mother down while he eats his dinner, and +then lecture or lead his Musical Union, or +conduct a poor man's concert, or go to `the +Weaver's Union,' and what he calls `threep +them' for two or three hours that labor is +ruining capital, and killing the goose that +lays golden eggs for them. Oh, they are a +wonderful race, Ruth!" + +"I really can't discuss them now, Ethel." + +"Don't you want to know what Tyrrel said +to me this afternoon?" + +"My dear, I know. Lovers have said such +things before, and lovers will say them evermore. +You shall tell me in the morning. I +thought he looked distrait and bored with our +company." + +Indeed, Tyrrel was so remarkably quiet +that John Thomas also noticed his mood, and +as they sat smoking in Tyrrel's room, he resolved +to find out the reason, and with his +usual directness asked: + +"What do you think of Ethel Rawdon, +Tyrrel," + +"I think she is the most beautiful woman +I ever saw. She has also the most sincere +nature, and her high spirit is sweetly tempered +by her affectionate heart." + +"I am glad you know so much about her. +Look here, Cousin Tyrrel, I fancied to-night +you were a bit jealous of me. It is easy to +see you are in love, and I've no doubt you +were thinking of the days when you would be +thousands of miles away, and I should have +the ground clear and so on, eh?" + +"Suppose I was, cousin, what then?" + +"You would be worrying for nothing. I +don't want to marry Ethel Rawdon. If I +did, you would have to be on the ground all +the time, and then I should best you; but I +picked out my wife two years ago, and if we +are both alive and well, we are going to be +married next Christmas." + +"I am delighted. I----" + +"I thought you would be." + +"Who is the young lady?" + +"Miss Lucy Watson. Her father is the +Independent minister. He is a gentleman, +though his salary is less than we give our +overseer. And he is a great scholar. So is +Lucy. She finished her course at college this +summer, and with high honors. Bless you, +Tyrrel, she knows far more than I do about +everything but warps and looms and such +like. I admire a clever woman, and I'm +proud of Lucy." + +"Where is she now?" + +"Well, she was a bit done up with so much +study, and so she went to Scarborough for a +few weeks. She has an aunt there. The sea +breezes and salt water soon made her fit for +anything. She may be home very soon now. +Then, Tyrrel, you'll see a beauty--face like +a rose, hair brown as a nut, eyes that make +your heart go galloping, the most enticing +mouth, the prettiest figure, and she loves me +with all her heart. When she says `John +Thomas, dear one,' I tremble with pleasure, +and when she lets me kiss her sweet mouth, +I really don't know where I am. What would +you say if a girl whispered, `I love you, and +nobody but you,' and gave you a kiss that was +like--like wine and roses? Now what would +you say?" + +"I know as little as you do what I would +say. It's a situation to make a man coin new +words. I suppose your family are pleased." + +"Well, I never thought about my family +till I had Lucy's word. Then I told mother. +She knew Lucy all through. Mother has a +great respect for Independents, and though +father sulked a bit at first, mother had it out +with him one night, and when mother has father +quiet in their room father comes to see +things just as she wants him. I suppose +that's the way with wives. Lucy will be just +like that. She's got a sharp little temper, too. +She'll let me have a bit of it, no doubt, now +and then." + +"Will you like that?" + +"I wouldn't care a farthing for a wife without +a bit of temper. There would be no fun +in living with a woman of that kind. My father +would droop and pine if mother didn't +spur him on now and then. And he likes it. +Don't I know? I've seen mother snappy and +awkward with him all breakfast time, tossing +her head, and rattling the china, and declaring +she was worn out with men that let all the +good bargains pass them; perhaps making fun +of us because we couldn't manage to get along +without strikes. She had no strikes with her +hands, she'd like to see her women stand up +and talk to her about shorter hours, and so on; +and father would look at me sly-like, and as +we walked to the mill together he'd laugh contentedly +and say, `Your mother was quite refreshing +this morning, John Thomas. She has +keyed me up to a right pitch. When Jonathan +Arkroyd comes about that wool he sold us I'll +be all ready for him.' So you see I'm not +against a sharp temper. I like women as Tennyson +says English girls are, `roses set round +with little wilful thorns,' eh?" + +Unusual as this conversation was, its general +tone was assumed by Ethel in her confidential +talk with Ruth the following day. Of +course, Ruth was not at all surprised at the +news Ethel brought her, for though the lovers +had been individually sure they had betrayed +their secret to no one, it had really been an +open one to Ruth since the hour of their meeting. +She was sincerely ardent in her praises +of Tyrrel Rawdon, but--and there is always a +but--she wondered if Ethel had "noticed what +a quick temper he had." + +"Oh, yes," answered Ethel, "I should not +like him not to have a quick temper. I expect +my husband to stand up at a moment's notice +for either mine or his own rights or opinions." + +And in the afternoon when all preliminaries +had been settled and approved, Judge Rawdon +expressed himself in the same manner to +Ruth. "Yes," he said, in reply to her timid +suggestion of temper, "you can strike fire +anywhere with him if you try it, but he has +it under control. Besides, Ethel is just as +quick to flame up. It will be Rawdon against +Rawdon, and Ethel's weapons are of finer, +keener steel than Tyrrel's. Ethel will hold +her own. It is best so." + +"How did the Squire feel about such a +marriage?" + +"He was quite overcome with delight. +Nothing was said to Tyrrel about Ethel having +bought the reversion of Rawdon Manor, +for things have been harder to get into proper +shape than I thought they would be, and it +may be another month before all is finally +settled; but the Squire has the secret satisfaction, +and he was much affected by the certainty +of a Rawdon at Rawdon Court after +him. He declined to think of it in any other +way but `providential,' and of course I let +him take all the satisfaction he could out of +the idea. Ever since he heard of the engagement +he has been at the organ singing the +One Hundred and Third Psalm." + +"He is the dearest and noblest of men. +How soon shall we go home now?" + +"In about a month. Are you tired of England?" + +"I shall be glad to see America again. +There was a letter from Dora this morning. +They sail on the twenty-third." + +"Do you know anything of Mostyn?" + +"Since he wrote us a polite farewell we +have heard nothing." + +"Do you think he went to America?" + +"I cannot tell. When he bid us good-by +he made no statement as to his destination; +he merely said `he was leaving England on +business.'" + +"Well, Ruth, we shall sail as soon as I am +satisfied all is right. There is a little delay +about some leases and other matters. In the +meantime the lovers are in Paradise wherever +we locate them." + +And in Paradise they dwelt for another +four weeks. The ancient garden had doubtless +many a dream of love to keep, but none +sweeter or truer than the idyl of Tyrrel and +Ethel Rawdon. They were never weary of +rehearsing it; every incident of its growth +had been charming and romantic, and, as they +believed, appointed from afar. As the sum- +mer waxed hotter the beautiful place took on +an appearance of royal color and splendor, +and the air was languid with the perfume of +the clove carnations and tall white August +lilies. Fluted dahlias, scarlet poppies, and all +the flowers that exhale their spice in the last +hot days of August burned incense for them. +Their very hair was laden with odor, their +fingers flower-sweet, their minds took on the +many colors of their exquisite surroundings. + +And it was part of this drama of love and +scent and color that they should see it slowly +assume the more ethereal loveliness of +September, and watch the subtle amber rays +shine through the thinning boughs, and feel +that all nature was becoming idealized. The +birds were then mostly silent. They had left +their best notes on the hawthorns and among +the roses; but the crickets made a cheerful +chirrup, and the great brown butterflies displayed +their richest velvets, and the gossamer-like +insects in the dreamy atmosphere +performed dances and undulations full of +grace and mystery. And all these marvelous +changes imparted to love that sweet sadness +which is beyond all words poetic and enchaining. + +Yet however sweet the hours, they pass +away, and it is not much memory can save +from the mutable, happy days of love. Still, +when the hour of departure came they had +garnered enough to sweeten all the after- +straits and stress of time. September had +then perceptibly begun to add to the nights +and shorten the days, and her tender touch +had been laid on everything. With a smile +and a sigh the Rawdons turned their faces to +their pleasant home in the Land of the West. +It was to be but a short farewell. They had +promised the Squire to return the following +summer, but he felt the desolation of the +parting very keenly. With his hat slightly +lifted above his white head, he stood watching +them out of sight. Then he went to his +organ, and very soon grand waves of melody +rolled outward and upward, and blended +themselves with the clear, soaring voice of +Joel, the lad who blew the bellows of the +instrument, and shared all his master's joy in +it. They played and sang until the Squire +rose weary, but full of gladness. The look of +immortality was in his eyes, its sure and certain +hope in his heart. He let Joel lead him +to his chair by the window, and then he said +to himself with visible triumph: + +"What Mr. Spencer or anyone else writes +about `the Unknowable' I care not. I KNOW +IN WHOM I have believed. Joel, sing that last +sequence again. Stand where I can see thee." +And the lad's joyful voice rang exulting out: + +"Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling-place +in all generations. Before the mountains +were brought forth, or ever Thou hadst formed +the world, from everlasting to everlasting +Thou art God! Thou art God! Thou art +God!" + +"That will do, Joel. Go thy ways now. +Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling-place in +all generations. `Unknowable,' Thou hast +been our dwelling-place in all generations. +No, no, no, what an ungrateful sinner I +would be to change the Lord everlasting for +the Unknowable.'" + + + +CHAPTER IX + +NEW YORK is at its very brightest and best +in October. This month of the year may be +safely trusted not to disappoint. The skies +are blue, the air balmy, and there is generally +a delightful absence of wind. The summer +exiles are home again from Jersey boarding +houses, and mountain camps, and seaside +hotels, and thankful to the point of hilarity +that this episode of the year is over, that they +can once more dwell under their own roofs +without breaking any of the manifest laws +of the great goddess Custom or Fashion. + +Judge Rawdon's house had an especially +charming "at home" appearance. During +the absence of the family it had been made +beautiful inside and outside, and the white +stone, the plate glass, and falling lace evident +to the street, had an almost conscious +look of luxurious propriety. + +The Judge frankly admitted his pleasure +in his home surroundings. He said, as they +ate their first meal in the familiar room, that +"a visit to foreign countries was a grand, +patriotic tonic." He vowed that the "first +sight of the Stars and Stripes at Sandy Hook +had given him the finest emotion he had ever +felt in his life," and was altogether in his +proudest American mood. Ruth sympathized +with him. Ethel listened smiling. She knew +well that the English strain had only temporarily +exhausted itself; it would have its +period of revival at the proper time. + +"I am going to see grandmother," she +said gayly. "I shall stay with her all day." + +"But I have a letter from her," interrupted +the Judge, "and she will not return +home until next week." + +"I am sorry. I was anticipating so eagerly +the joy of seeing her. Well, as I cannot do +so, I will go and call on Dora Stanhope." + +"I would not if I were you, Ethel," said +Ruth. "Let her come and call on you." + +"I had a little note from her this morning, +welcoming me home, and entreating me +to call." + +The Judge rose as Ethel was speaking, and +no more was said about the visit at that time +but a few hours later Ethel came down from +her room ready for the street and frankly +told Ruth she had made up her mind to call +on Dora. + +"Then I will only remind you, Ethel, that +Dora is not a fortunate woman to know. As +far as I can see, she is one of those who sow +pain of heart and vexation of spirit about +every house they enter, even their own. But I +cannot gather experience for you, it will have +to grow in your own garden." + +"All right, dear Ruth, and if I do not like +its growth, I will pull it up by the roots, I +assure you." + +Ruth went with her to the door and watched +her walk leisurely down the broad steps to +the street. The light kindled in her eyes and +on her face as she did so. She already felt +the magnetism of the great city, and with a +laughing farewell walked rapidly toward +Dora's house. + +Her card brought an instant response, and +she heard Dora's welcome before the door +was opened. And her first greeting was an +enthusiastic compliment, "How beautiful +you have grown, Ethel!" she cried. "Ah, +that is the European finish. You have gained +it, my dear; you really are very much improved." + +"And you also, Dora?" + +The words were really a question, but Dora +accepted them as an assertion, and was satisfied. + +"I suppose I am," she answered, "though +I'm sure I can't tell how it should be so, unless +worry of all kinds is good for good looks. +I've had enough of that for a lifetime." + +"Now, Dora." + +"Oh, it's the solid truth--partly your +fault too." + +"I never interfered----" + +"Of course you didn't, but you ought to +have interfered. When you called on me in +London you might have seen that I was not +happy; and I wanted to come to Rawdon +Court, and you would not invite me. I called +your behavior then `very mean,' and I have +not altered my opinion of it." + +"There were good reasons, Dora, why I +could not ask you." + +"Good reasons are usually selfish ones, +Ethel, and Fred Mostyn told me what they +were. + +"He likely told you untruths, Dora, for +he knew nothing about my reasons. I saw +very little of him." + +"I know. You treated him as badly as +you treated me, and all for some wild West +creature--a regular cowboy, Fred said, but +then a Rawdon!" + +"Mr. Mostyn has misrepresented Mr. Tyrrel +Rawdon--that is all about it. I shall not +explain `how' or `why.' Did you enjoy +yourself at Stanhope Castle?" + +"Enjoy myself! Are you making fun of +me? Ethel, dear, it was the most awful experience. +You never can imagine such a life, +and such women. They were dressed for a +walk at six o'clock; they had breakfast at half- +past seven. They went to the village and inspected +cottages, and gave lessons in housekeeping +or dressmaking or some other +drudgery till noon. They walked back to the +Castle for lunch. They attended to their +own improvement from half-past one until +four, had lessons in drawing and chemistry, +and, I believe, electricity. They had another +walk, and then indulged themselves with a +cup of tea. They dressed and received visitors, +and read science or theology between +whiles. There was always some noted +preacher or scholar at the dinner table. The +conversation was about acids and explosives, +or the planets or bishops, or else on the +never, never-ending subject of elevating the +workingman and building schools for his children. +Basil, of course, enjoyed it. He +thought he was giving me a magnificent object +lesson. He was never done praising the +ladies Mary Elinor and Adelaide Stanhope. +I'm sure I wish he had married one or all of +them--and I told him so." + +"You could not be so cruel, Dora." + +"I managed it with the greatest ease +imaginable. He was always trotting at their +side. They spoke of him as `the most pious +young man.' I have no doubt they were all +in love with him. I hope they were. I used +to pretend to be very much in love when they +were present. I dare say it made them +wretched. Besides, they blushed and thought +me improper. Basil didn't approve, either, +so I hit all round." + +She rose at this memory and shook out her +silk skirts, and walked up and down the room +with an air that was the visible expression of +the mockery and jealousy in her heart. This +was an entirely different Dora to the lachrymose, +untidy wife at the Savoy Hotel in London, +and Ethel had a momentary pang at the +thought of the suffering which was responsible +for the change. + +"If I had thought, Dora, you were so +uncomfortable, I would have asked Basil and +you to the Court." + +"You saw I was not happy when I was at +the Savoy." + +"I thought you and Basil had had a kind +of lovers' quarrel, and that it would blow +over in an hour or two; no one likes to meddle +with an affair of that kind. Are you going +to Newport, or is Mrs. Denning in New +York?" + +"That is another trouble, Ethel. When I +wrote mother I wanted to come to her, she +sent me word she was going to Lenox with a +friend. Then, like you, she said `she had no +liberty to invite me,' and so on. I never knew +mother act in such a way before. I nearly +broke my heart about it for a few days, then +I made up my mind I wouldn't care." + +"Mrs. Denning, I am sure, thought she did +the wisest and kindest thing possible." + +"I didn't want mother to be wise. I wanted +her to understand that I was fairly worn out +with my present life and needed a change. +I'm sure she did understand. Then why was +she so cruel?" and she shrugged her shoulders +impatiently and sat down. "I'm so +tired of life," she continued. "When did +you hear of Fred Mostyn?" + +"I know nothing of his movements. Is +he in America?" + +"Somewhere. I asked mother if he was +in Newport, and she never answered the ques- +tion. I suppose he will be in New York for +the winter season. I hope so." + +This topic threatened to be more dangerous +than the other, and Ethel, after many and +futile attempts to bring conversation into +safe commonplace channels, pleaded other +engagements and went away. She was painfully +depressed by the interview. All the +elements of tragedy were gathered together +under the roof she had just left, and, as far +as she could see, there was no deliverer wise +and strong enough to prevent a calamity. +She did not repeat to Ruth the conversation +which had been so painful to her. She +described Dora's dress and appearance, and +commented on Fred Mostyn's description of +Tyrrel Rawdon, and on Mrs. Denning's refusal +of her daughter's proposed visit. + +Ruth thought the latter circumstance +significant. "I dare say Mostyn was in +Newport at that time," she answered. "Mrs. +Denning has some very quick perceptions." +And Ruth's opinion was probably correct, for +during dinner the Judge remarked in a casual +manner that he had met Mr. Mostyn on the +avenue as he was coming home. "He was +well," he said, "and made all the usual +inquiries as to your health." And both Ruth +and Ethel understood that he wished them to +know of Mostyn's presence in the city, and +to be prepared for meeting him; but did not +care to discuss the subject further, at least +at that time. The information brought precisely +the same thought at the same moment +to both women, and as soon as they were +alone they uttered it. + +"She knew Mostyn was in the city," said +Ethel in a low voice. + +"Certainly." + +"She was expecting him." + +"I am sure of it." + +"Her elaborate and beautiful dressing was +for him." + +"Poor Basil!" + +"She asked me to stay and lunch with her, +but very coolly, and when I refused, did not +press the matter as she used to do. Yes, she +was expecting him. I understand now her +nervous manner, her restlessness, her indifference +to my short visit. I wish I could do +anything." + +"You cannot, and you must not try." + +"Some one must try." + +"There is her husband. Have you heard +from Tyrrel yet," + +"I have had a couple of telegrams. He +will write from Chicago." + +"Is he going at once to the Hot Springs?" + +"As rapidly as possible. Colonel Rawdon +is now there, and very ill. Tyrrel will put +his father first of all. The trouble at the +mine can be investigated afterwards." + +"You will miss him very much. You have +been so happy together." + +"Of course I shall miss him. But it will +be a good thing for us to be apart awhile. +Love must have some time in which to grow. +I am a little tired of being very happy, and I +think Tyrrel also will find absence a relief. +In `Lalla Rookh' there is a line about love +`falling asleep in a sameness of splendor.' +It might. How melancholy is a long spell +of hot, sunshiny weather, and how gratefully +we welcome the first shower of rain." + +"Love has made you a philosopher, Ethel." + +"Well, it is rather an advantage than +otherwise. I am going to take a walk, Ruth, +into the very heart of Broadway. I have had +enough of the peace of the country. I want +the crack, and crash, and rattle, and grind +of wheels, the confused cries, the snatches of +talk and laughter, the tread of crowds, the +sound of bells, and clocks, and chimes. I +long for all the chaotic, unintelligible noise +of the streets. How suggestive it is! Yet it +never explains itself. It only gives one a full +sense of life. Love may need just the same +stimulus. I wish grandmother would come +home. I should not require Broadway as a +stimulus. I am afraid she will be very angry +with me, and there will be a battle royal in +Gramercy Park." + +It was nearly a week before Ethel had this +crisis to meet. She went down to it with a +radiant face and charming manner, and her +reception was very cordial. Madam would +not throw down the glove until the proper +moment; besides, there were many very interesting +subjects to talk over, and she wanted +"to find things out" that would never be told +unless tempers were propitious. Added to +these reasons was the solid one that she really +adored her granddaughter, and was immensely +cheered by the very sight of the rosy, smiling +countenance lifted to her sitting-room window +in passing. She, indeed, pretended to be +there in order to get a good light for her new +shell pattern, but she was watching for Ethel, +and Ethel understood the shell-pattern fiction +very well. She had heard something similar +often. + +"My darling grandmother," she cried, "I +thought you would never come home." + +"It wasn't my fault, dear. Miss Hillis +and an imbecile young doctor made me believe +I had a cold. I had no cold. I had +nothing at all but what I ought to have. I've +been made to take all sorts of things, and do +all sorts of things that I hate to take and hate +to do. For ten days I've been kicking my old +heels against bedclothes. Yesterday I took +things in my own hands." + +"Never mind, Granny dear, it was all a +good discipline." + +"Discipline! You impertinent young +lady! Discipline for your grandmother! +Discipline, indeed! That one word may cost +you a thousand dollars, miss." + +"I don't care if it does, only you must give +the thousand dollars to poor Miss Hillis." + +"Poor Miss Hillis has had a most comfortable +time with me all summer." + +"I know she has, consequently she will +feel her comfortless room and poverty all the +more after it. Give her the thousand, Granny. +I'm willing." + +"What kind of company have you been +keeping, Ethel Rawdon? Who has taught +you to squander dollars by the thousand? +Discipline! I think you are giving me a little +now--a thousand dollars a lesson, it seems-- +no wonder, after the carryings-on at Rawdon +Court." + +"Dear grandmother, we had the loveliest +time you can imagine. And there is not, in +all the world, such a noble old gentleman as +Squire Percival Rawdon." + +"I know all about Percival Rawdon--a +proud, careless, extravagant, loose-at-ends +man, dancing and singing and loving as it +suited time and season, taking no thought for +the future, and spending with both hands; +hard on women, too, as could be." + +"Grandmother, I never saw a more courteous +gentleman. He worships women. He +was never tired of talking about you." + +"What had he to say about me?" + +"That you were the loveliest girl in the +county, and that he never could forget the +first time he saw you. He said you were like +the vision of an angel." + +"Nonsense! I was just a pretty girl in a +book muslin frock and a white sash, with a +rose at my breast. I believe they use book +muslin for linings now, but it did make the +sheerest, lightest frocks any girl could want. +Yes, I remember that time. I was going to +a little party and crossing a meadow to shorten +the walk, and Squire Percival had been out +with his gun, and he laid it down and ran to +help me over the stile. A handsome young +fellow he was then as ever stepped in shoe +leather." + +"And he must have loved you dearly. He +would sit hour after hour telling Ruth and +me how bright you were, and how all the +young beaux around Monk-Rawdon adored +you." + +"Nonsense! Nonsense! I had beaux to +be sure. What pretty girl hasn't?" + +"And he said his brother Edward won +you because he was most worthy of your +love." + +"Well, now, I chose Edward Rawdon because +he was willing to come to America. I +longed to get away from Monk-Rawdon. I +was faint and weary with the whole stupid +place. And the idea of living a free and +equal life, and not caring what lords and +squires and their proud ladies said or did, +pleased me wonderfully. We read about +Niagara and the great prairies and the new +bright cities, and Edward and I resolved to +make our home there. Your grandfather +wasn't a man to like being `the Squire's +brother.' He could stand alone." + +"Are you glad you came to America?" + +"Never sorry a minute for it. Ten years +in New York is worth fifty years in Monk- +Rawdon, or Rawdon Court either." + +"Squire Percival was very fond of me. +He thought I resembled you, grandmother, +but he never admitted I was as handsome as +you were." + +"Well, Ethel dear, you are handsome +enough for the kind of men you'll pick up +in this generation--most of them bald at +thirty, wearing spectacles at twenty or earlier, +and in spite of the fuss they make about +athletics breaking all to nervous bits about +fifty." + +"Grandmother, that is pure slander. I +know some very fine young men, handsome +and athletic both." + +"Beauty is a matter of taste, and as to +their athletics, they can run a mile with a +blacksmith, but when the thermometer rises +to eighty-five degrees it knocks them all to +pieces. They sit fanning themselves like +schoolgirls, and call for juleps and ice-water. +I've got eyes yet, my dear. Squire Percival +was a different kind of man; he could follow +the hounds all day and dance all night. The +hunt had not a rider like him; he balked at +neither hedge, gate, nor water; a right gallant, +courageous, honorable, affectionate gentleman +as ever Yorkshire bred, and she's +bred lots of superfine ones. What ever made +him get into such a mess with his estate? +Your grandfather thought him as straight as +a string in money matters." + +"You said just now he was careless and +extravagant." + +"Well, I did him wrong, and I'm sorry for +it. How did he manage to need eighty thousand +pounds?" + +"It is rather a pitiful story, grandmother, +but he never once blamed those who were in +the wrong. His son for many years had been +the real manager of the estate. He was a +speculator; his grandsons were wild and +extravagant. They began to borrow money ten +years ago and had to go on." + +"Whom did they borrow from?" + +"Fred Mostyn's father." + +"The devil! Excuse me, Ethel--but the +name suits and may stand." + +"The dear old Squire would have taken the +fault on himself if he could have done so. +They that wronged him were his own, and +they were dead. He never spoke of them but +with affection." + +"Poor Percival! Your father told me he +was now out of Mostyn's power; he said you +had saved the estate, but he gave me no +particulars. How did you save it?" + +"Bought it!" + +"Nonsense!" + +"House and lands and outlying farms and +timber--everything." + +Then a rosy color overspread Madam's +face, her eyes sparkled, she rose to her feet, +made Ethel a sweeping courtesy, and said: + +"My respect and congratulations to Ethel, +Lady of Rawdon Manor." + +"Dear grandmother, what else could I +do?" + +"You did right." + +"The Squire is Lord of the Manor as long +as he lives. My father says I have done well +to buy it. In the future, if I do not wish to +keep it, Nicholas Rawdon will relieve me at +a great financial advantage." + +"Why didn't you let Nicholas Rawdon buy +it now?" + +"He would have wanted prompt possession. +The Squire would have had to leave his +home. It would have broken his heart." + +"I dare say. He has a soft, loving heart. +That isn't always a blessing. It can give one +a deal of suffering. And I hear you have all +been making idols of these Tyrrel-Rawdons. +Fred tells me they are as vulgar a lot as can +be." + +"Fred lies! Excuse me, grandmother--but +the word suits and may stand. Mr. Nicholas +is pompous, and walks as slowly as if he had +to carry the weight of his great fortune; but +his manners are all right, and his wife and +son are delightful. She is handsome, well +dressed, and so good-hearted that her pretty +county idioms are really charming. John +Thomas is a man by himself--not handsome, +but running over with good temper, and +exceedingly clever and wide-awake. Many +times I was forced to tell myself, John +Thomas would make an ideal Squire of Rawdon." + +"Why don't you marry him." + +"He never asked me." + +"What was the matter with the men?" + +"He was already engaged to a very lovely +young lady." + +"I am glad she is a lady." + +"She is also very clever. She has been to +college and taken high honors, a thing I have +not done." + +"You might have done and overdone that +caper; you were too sensible to try it. Well, +I'm glad that part of the family is looking +up. They had the right stuff in them, and it +is a good thing for families to dwell together +in unity. We have King David's word for +that. My observation leads me to think it is +far better for families to dwell apart, in +unity. They seldom get along comfortably +together." + +Then Ethel related many pleasant, piquant +scenes between the two families at Monk- +Rawdon, and especially that one in which the +room of the first Tyrrel had been opened and +his likeness restored to its place in the family +gallery. It touched the old lady to tears, and +she murmured, "Poor lad! Poor lad! I +wonder if he knows! I wonder if he knows!" + +The crucial point of Ethel's revelations had +not yet been revealed, but Madam was now +in a gentle mood, and Ethel took the opportunity +to introduce her to Tyrrel Rawdon. +She was expecting and waiting for this topic, +but stubbornly refused to give Ethel any help +toward bringing it forward. At last, the girl +felt a little anger at her pretended indifference, +and said, "I suppose Fred Mostyn told +you about Mr. Tyrrel Rawdon, of California?" + +"Tyrrel Rawdon, of California! Pray, +who may he be?" + +"The son of Colonel Rawdon, of the United +States Army." + +"Oh, to be sure! Well, what of him?" + +"I am going to marry him." + +"I shall see about that." + +"We were coming here together to see you, +but before we left the steamer he got a telegram +urging him to go at once to his father, +who is very ill." + +"I have not asked him to come and see +me. Perhaps he will wait till I do so." + +"If you are not going to love Tyrrel, you +need not love me. I won't have you for a +grandmother any longer." + +"I did without you sixty years. I shall +not live another twelve months, and I think +I can manage to do without you for a granddaughter +any longer." + +"You cannot do without me. You would +break your heart, and I should break mine." +Whereupon Ethel began to cry with a passion +that quite gratified the old lady. She watched +her a few moments, and then said gently: + +"There now, that will do. When he comes +to New York bring him to see me. And don't +name the man in the meantime. I won't talk +about him till I've seen him. It isn't fair +either way. Fred didn't like him." + +"Fred likes no one but Dora Stanhope." + +"Eh! What! Is that nonsense going on +yet?" + +Then Ethel described her last two interviews +with Dora. She did this with scrupulous +fidelity, making no suggestions that +might prejudice the case. For she really +wanted her grandmother's decision in order +to frame her own conduct by it. Madam was +not, however, in a hurry to give it. + +"What do you think?" she asked Ethel. + +"I have known Dora for many years; she +has always told me everything." + +"But nothing about Fred?" + +"Nothing." + +"Nothing to tell, perhaps?" + +"Perhaps." + +"Where does her excellent husband come +in?" + +"She says he is very kind to her in his +way." + +"And his way is to drag her over the world +to see the cathedrals thereof, and to vary that +pleasure with inspecting schools and reformatories +and listening to great preachers. Upon +my word, I feel sorry for the child! And I +know all about such excellent people as the +Stanhopes. I used to go to what they call +`a pleasant evening' with them. We sat +around a big room lit with wax candles, and +held improving conversation, or some one +sang one or two of Mrs. Hemans' songs, like +`Passing Away' or `He Never Smiled +Again.' Perhaps there was a comic recitation, +at which no one laughed, and finally we +had wine and hot water--they called it `port +negus'--and tongue sandwiches and caraway +cakes. My dear Ethel, I yawn now when I +think of those dreary evenings. What must +Dora have felt, right out of the maelstrom of +New York's operas and theaters and dancing +parties?" + +"Still, Dora ought to try to feel some interest +in the church affairs. She says she +does not care a hairpin for them, and Basil +feels so hurt." + +"I dare say he does, poor fellow! He +thinks St. Jude's Kindergarten and sewing +circles and missionary societies are the only +joys in the world. Right enough for Basil, +but how about Dora?" + +"They are his profession; she ought to +feel an interest in them." + +"Come now, look at the question sensibly. +Did Dora's father bring his `deals' and +stock-jobbery home, and expect Dora and her +mother to feel an interest in them? Do doctors +tell their wives about their patients, and +expect them to pay sympathizing visits? +Does your father expect Ruth and yourself +to listen to his cases and arguments, and visit +his poor clients or make underclothing for +them? Do men, in general, consider it a +wife's place to interfere in their profession +or business?" + +"Clergymen are different." + +"Not at all. Preaching and philanthropy +is their business. They get so much a year +for doing it. I don't believe St. Jude's pays +Mrs. Stanhope a red cent. There now, and if +she isn't paid, she's right not to work. Amen +to that!" + +"Before she was married Dora said she +felt a great interest in church work." + +"I dare say she did. Marriage makes a +deal of difference in a woman's likes and dislikes. +Church work was courting-time before +marriage; after marriage she had other +opportunities." + +"I think you might speak to Fred Mostyn----" + +"I might, but it wouldn't be worth while. +Be true to your friend as long as you can. +In Yorkshire we stand by our friends, right +or wrong, and we aren't too particular as to +their being right. My father enjoyed justifying +a man that everyone else was down on; +and I've stood by many a woman nobody had +a good word for. I was never sorry for doing +it, either. I'll be going into a strange country +soon, and I should not wonder if some of +them that have gone there first will be ready +to stand by me. We don't know what friends +we'll be glad of there." + +The dinner bell broke up this conversation, +and Ethel during it told Madam about the +cook and cooking at the Court and at +Nicholas Rawdon's, where John Thomas had +installed a French chef. Other domestic +arrangements were discussed, and when the +Judge called for his daughter at four o'clock, +Madam vowed "she had spent one of the +happiest days of her life." + +"Ruth tells me," said the Judge, "that +Dora Stanhope called for Ethel soon after +she left home this morning. Ruth seems +troubled at the continuance of this friendship. +Have you spoken to your grandmother, +Ethel, about Dora?" + +"She has told me all there is to tell, I dare +say," answered Madam. + +"Well, mother, what do you think?" + +"I see no harm in it yet awhile. It is not +fair, Edward, to condemn upon likelihoods. +We are no saints, sinful men and women, all +of us, and as much inclined to forbidden fruit +as any good Christians can be. Ethel can do +as she feels about it; she's got a mind of her +own, and I hope to goodness she'll not let +Ruth Bayard bit and bridle it." + +Going home the Judge evidently pondered +this question, for he said after a lengthy +silence, "Grandmother's ethics do not always +fit the social ethics of this day, Ethel. She +criticises people with her heart, not her intellect. +You must be prudent. There is a remarkable +thing called Respectability to be +reckoned with remember that." + +And Ethel answered, "No one need worry +about Dora. Some women may show the +edges of their character soiled and ragged, +but Dora will be sure to have hers reputably +finished with a hem of the widest propriety." +And after a short silence the Judge added, +almost in soliloquy, "And, moreover, Ethel, + + "`There's a divinity that shapes our ends, + Rough-hew them how we will.'" + + + + + +PART FOURTH + + + +THE REAPING OF THE SOWING + +CHAPTER X + +WHEN Ethel and Tyrrel parted at the +steamer they did not expect a long separation, +but Colonel Rawdon never recovered his +health, and for many excellent reasons Tyrrel +could not leave the dying man. Nor did +Ethel wish him to do so. Under these circumstances +began the second beautiful phase +of Ethel's wooing, a sweet, daily correspondence, +the best of all preparations for matrimonial +oneness and understanding. Looking +for Tyrrel's letters, reading them, and +answering them passed many happy hours, +for to both it was an absolute necessity to assure +each other constantly, + + "Since I wrote thee yester eve + I do love thee, Love, believe, + Twelve times dearer, twelve hours longer, + One dream deeper one night stronger, + One sun surer--this much more + Than I loved thee, dear, before." + +And for the rest, she took up her old life with +a fresh enthusiasm. + +Among these interests none were more +urgent in their claims than Dora Stanhope; +and fortified by her grandmother's opinion, +Ethel went at once to call on her. She found +Basil with his wife, and his efforts to make +Ethel see how much he expected from her +influence, and yet at the same time not even +hint a disapproval of Dora, were almost pathetic, +for he was so void of sophistry that +his innuendoes were flagrantly open to detection. +Dora felt a contempt for them, and +he had hardly left the room ere she said: + +"Basil has gone to his vestry in high +spirits. When I told him you were coming +to see me to-day he smiled like an angel. He +believes you will keep me out of mischief, and +he feels a grand confidence in something +which he calls `your influence.'" + +"What do you mean by mischief?" + +"Oh, I suppose going about with Fred +Mostyn. I can't help that. I must have some +one to look after me. All the young men I +used to know pass me now with a lifted hat +or a word or two. The girls have forgotten +me. I don't suppose I shall be asked to a +single dance this winter." + +"The ladies in St. Jude's church would +make a pet of you if----" + +"The old cats and kittens! No, thank you, +I am not going to church except on Sunday +mornings--that is respectable and right; but +as to being the pet of St. Jude's ladies! No, +no! How they would mew over my delinquencies, +and what scratches I should get +from their velvet-shod claws! If I have to +be talked about, I prefer the ladies of the +world to discuss my frailties." + +"But if I were you, I would give no one a +reason for saying a word against me. Why +should you?" + +"Fred will supply them with reasons. I +can't keep the man away from me. I don't +believe I want to--he is very nice and useful." + +"You are talking nonsense, things you +don't mean, Dora. You are not such a foolish +woman as to like to be seen with Fred +Mostyn, that little monocular snob, after the +aristocratic, handsome Basil Stanhope. The +comparison is a mockery. Basil is the finest +gentleman I ever saw. Socially, he is perfection, +and----" + +"He is only a clergyman." + +"Even as a clergyman he is of religiously +royal descent. There are generations of +clergymen behind him, and he is a prince in +the pulpit. Every man that knows him gives +him the highest respect, every woman thinks +you the most fortunate of wives. No one +cares for Fred Mostyn. Even in his native +place he is held in contempt. He had nine +hundred votes to young Rawdon's twelve +thousand." + +"I don't mind that. I am going to the +matinee to-morrow with Fred. He wanted +to take me out in his auto this afternoon, but +when I said I would go if you would he drew +back. What is the reason? Did he make +you offer of his hand? Did you refuse it?" + +"He never made me an offer. I count that +to myself as a great compliment. If he had +done such a thing, he would certainly have +been refused." + +"I can tell that he really hates you. What +dirty trick did you serve him about Rawdon +Court?" + +"So he called the release of Squire Rawdon +a `dirty trick'? It would have been a +very dirty trick to have let Fred Mostyn get +his way with Squire Rawdon." + +"Of course, Ethel, when a man lends his +money as an obligation he expects to get it +back again." + +"Mostyn got every farthing due him, and +he wanted one of the finest manors in Eng- +land in return for the obligation. He did not +get it, thank God and my father!" + +"He will not forget your father's +interference." + +"I hope he will remember it." + +"Do you know who furnished the money +to pay Fred? He says he is sure your father +did not have it." + +"Tell him to ask my father. He might +even ask your father. Whether my father +had the money or not was immaterial. Father +could borrow any sum he wanted, I +think." + +"Whom did he borrow from?" + +"I am sure that Fred told you to ask that +question. Is he writing to you, Dora?" + +"Suppose he is?" + +"I cannot suppose such a thing. It is too +impossible." + +This was the beginning of a series of events +all more or less qualified to bring about +unspeakable misery in Basil's home. But there +is nothing in life like the marriage tie. The +tugs it will bear and not break, the wrongs it +will look over, the chronic misunderstandings +it will forgive, make it one of the mysteries +of humanity. It was not in a day or a week +that Basil Stanhope's dream of love and +home was shattered. Dora had frequent and +then less frequent times of return to her +better self; and every such time renewed her +husband's hope that she was merely passing +through a period of transition and assimilation, +and that in the end she would be all his +desire hoped for. + +But Ethel saw what he did not see, that +Mostyn was gradually inspiring her with his +own opinions, perhaps even with his own passion. +In this emergency, however, she was +gratified to find that Dora's mother appeared +to have grasped the situation. For if Dora +went to the theater with Mostyn, Mrs. Denning +or Bryce was also there; and the reckless +auto driving, shopping, and lunching had +at least a show of respectable association. +Yet when the opera season opened, the constant +companionship of Mostyn and Dora became +entirely too remarkable, not only in the +public estimation, but in Basil's miserable +conception of his own wrong. The young +husband used every art and persuasion--and +failed. And his failure was too apparent to +be slighted. He became feverish and nervous, +and his friends read his misery in eyes heavy +with unshed tears, and in the wasting pallor +caused by his sleepless, sorrowful nights. + +Dora also showed signs of the change so +rapidly working on her. She was sullen and +passionate by turns; she complained bitterly +to Ethel that her youth and beauty had been +wasted; that she was only nineteen, and her +life was over. She wanted to go to Paris, to +get away from New York anywhere and anyhow. +She began to dislike even the presence +of Basil. His stately beauty offended her, +his low, calm voice was the very keynote of +irritation. + +One morning near Christmas he came to +her with a smiling, radiant face. "Dora," +he said, "Dora, my love, I have something +so interesting to tell you. Mrs. Colby and +Mrs. Schaffler and some other ladies have a +beautiful idea. They wish to give all the +children of the church under eight years old +the grandest Christmas tree imaginable-- +really rich presents and they thought you +might like to have it here." + +"What do you say, Basil!" + +"You were always so fond of children. +You----" + +"I never could endure them." + +"We all thought you might enjoy it. Indeed, +I was so sure that I promised for you. +It will be such a pleasure to me also, dear." + +"I will have no such childish nonsense in +my house." + +"I promised it, Dora." + +"You had no right to do so. This is my +house. My father bought it and gave me it, +and it is my own. I----" + +"It seems, then, that I intrude in your +house. Is it so? Speak, Dora." + +"If you will ask questions you must take +the answer. You do intrude when you come +with such ridiculous proposals--in fact, you +intrude very often lately." + +"Does Mr. Mostyn intrude?" + +"Mr. Mostyn takes me out, gives me a little +sensible pleasure. You think I can be interested +in a Christmas tree. The idea!" + +"Alas, alas, Dora, you are tired of me! +You do not love me! You do not love me!" + +"I love nobody. I am sorry I got married. +It was all a mistake. I will go home +and then you can get a divorce." + +At this last word the whole man changed. +He was suffused, transfigured with an anger +that was at once righteous and impetuous. + +"How dare you use that word to me?" he +demanded. "To the priest of God no such +word exists. I do not know it. You are my +wife, willing or unwilling. You are my wife +forever, whether you dwell with me or not. +You cannot sever bonds the Almighty has +tied. You are mine, Dora Stanhope! Mine +for time and eternity! Mine forever and +ever!" + +She looked at him in amazement, and saw +a man after an image she had never imagined. +She was terrified. She flung herself on the +sofa in a whirlwind of passion. She cried +aloud against his claim. She gave herself up +to a vehement rage that was strongly infused +with a childish dismay and panic. + +"I will not be your wife forever!" she +shrieked. "I will never be your wife again +--never, not for one hour! Let me go! Take +your hands off me!" For Basil had knelt +down by the distraught woman, and clasping +her in his arms said, even on her lips, "You +ARE my dear wife! You are my very own +dear wife! Tell me what to do. Anything +that is right, reasonable I will do. We can +never part." + +"I will go to my father. I will never come +back to you." And with these words she rose, +threw off his embrace, and with a sobbing +cry ran, like a terrified child, out of the room. + +He sat down exhausted by his emotion, and +sick with the thought she had evoked in that +one evil word. The publicity, the disgrace, +the wrong to Holy Church--ah, that was the +cruelest wound! His own wrong was hard +enough, but that he, who would gladly die +for the Church, should put her to open +shame! How could he bear it? Though it +killed him, he must prevent that wrong; yes, +if the right eye offended it must be plucked +out. He must throw off his cassock, and turn +away from the sacred aisles; he must--he +could not say the word; he would wait a little. +Dora would not leave him; it was impossible. +He waited in a trance of aching suspense. +Nothing for an hour or more broke it--no +footfall, no sound of command or complaint. +He was finally in hopes that Dora slept. +Then he was called to lunch, and he made a +pretense of eating it alone. Dora sent no excuse +for her absence, and he could not trust +himself to make inquiry about her. In the +middle of the afternoon he heard a carriage +drive to the door, and Dora, with her jewel- +case in her hand, entered it and was driven +away. The sight astounded him. He ran to +her room, and found her maid packing her +clothing. The woman answered his questions +sullenly. She said "Mrs. Stanhope had gone +to Mrs. Denning's, and had left orders for +her trunks to be sent there." Beyond this +she was silent and ignorant. No sympathy +for either husband or wife was in her heart. +Their quarrel was interfering with her own +plans; she hated both of them in consequence. + +In the meantime Dora had reached her +home. Her mother was dismayed and hesitating, +and her attitude raised again in Dora's +heart the passion which had provoked the +step she had taken. She wept like a lost +child. She exclaimed against the horror of +being Basil's wife forever and ever. She +reproached her mother for suffering her to +marry while she was only a child. She said +she had been cruelly used in order to get the +family into social recognition. She was in a +frenzy of grief at her supposed sacrifice when +her father came home. Her case was then +won. With her arms round his neck, sobbing +against his heart, her tears and entreaties on +his lips, Ben Denning had no feeling and no +care for anyone but his daughter. He took +her view of things at once. "She HAD been +badly used. It WAS a shame to tie a girl like +Dora to sermons and such like. It was like +shutting her up in a convent." Dora's tears +and complaints fired him beyond reason. He +promised her freedom whatever it cost him. + +And while he sat in his private room +considering the case, all the racial passions of +his rough ancestry burning within him, Basil +Stanhope called to see him. He permitted +him to come into his presence, but he rose as +he entered, and walked hastily a few steps to +meet him. + +"What do you want here, sir?" he asked. + +"My wife." + +"My daughter. You shall not see her. I +have taken her back to my own care." + +"She is my wife. No one can take her +from me." + +"I will teach you a different lesson." + +"The law of God." + +"The law of the land goes here. You'll +find it more than you can defy." + +"Sir, I entreat you to let me speak to +Dora." + +"I will not." + +"I will stay here until I see her." + +"I will give you five minutes. I do not +wish to offer your profession an insult; if you +have any respect for it you will obey me." + +Answer me one question--what have I +done wrong?" + +"A man can be so intolerably right, that +he becomes unbearably wrong. You have no +business with a wife and a home. You are a +d---- sight too good for a good little girl that +wants a bit of innocent amusement. Sermons +and Christmas trees! Great Scott, +what sensible woman would not be sick of it +all? Sir, I don't want another minute of +your company. Little wonder that my Dora +is ill with it. Oblige me by leaving my house +as quietly as possible." And he walked to +the door, flung it open, and stood glaring at +the distracted husband. "Go," he said. "Go +at once. My lawyer will see you in the future. +I have nothing further to say to you." + +Basil went, but not to his desolate home. +He had a private key to the vestry in his +church, and in its darkness and solitude he +faced the first shock of his ruined life, for he +knew well all was over. All had been. He sank +to the floor at the foot of the large cross which +hung on its bare white walls. Grief's illimitable +wave went over him, and like a drowning +man he uttered an inarticulate cry of agony +--the cry of a soul that had wronged its destiny. +Love had betrayed him to ruin. All +he had done must be abandoned. All he +had won must be given up. Sin and shame +indeed it would be if in his person a sacrament +of the Church should be dragged through +a divorce court. All other considerations +paled before this disgrace. He must resign +his curacy, strip himself of the honorable +livery of heaven, obliterate his person and +his name. It was a kind of death. + +After awhile he rose, drank some water, +lifted the shade and let the moonlight in. +Then about that little room he walked with +God through the long night, telling Him his +sorrow and perplexity. And there is a depth +in our own nature where the divine and human +are one. That night Basil Stanhope +found it, and henceforward knew that the +bitterness of death was behind him, not before. +"I made my nest too dear on earth," +he sighed, "and it has been swept bare--that +is, that I may build in heaven. + +Now, the revelation of sorrow is the clearest +of all revelations. Stanhope understood that +hour what he must do. No doubts weakened +his course. He went back to the house Dora +called "hers," took away what he valued, +and while the servants were eating their +breakfast and talking over his marital +troubles, he passed across its threshold for +the last time. He told no one where he was +going; he dropped as silently and dumbly out +of the life that had known him as a stone +dropped into mid-ocean. + +Ethel considered herself fortunate in being +from home at the time this disastrous culmination +of Basil Stanhope's married life +was reached. On that same morning the +Judge, accompanied by Ruth and herself, had +gone to Lenox to spend the holidays with +some old friends, and she was quite ignorant +of the matter when she returned after the +New Year. Bryce was her first informant. +He called specially to give her the news. He +said his sister had been too ill and too busy +to write. He had no word of sympathy for +the unhappy pair. He spoke only of the anxiety +it had caused him. "He was now engaged," +he said, "to Miss Caldwell, and she +was such an extremely proper, innocent lady, +and a member of St. Jude's, it had really +been a trying time for her." Bryce also reminded +Ethel that he had been against Basil +Stanhope from the first. "He had always +known how that marriage would end," and +so on. + +Ethel declined to give any opinion. "She +must hear both sides," she said. "Dora had +been so reasonable lately, she had appeared +happy." + +"Oh, Dora is a little fox," he replied; "she +doubles on herself always." + +Ruth was properly regretful. She wondered +"if any married woman was really +happy." She did not apparently concern +herself about Basil. The Judge rather leaned +to Basil's consideration. He understood that +Dora's overt act had shattered his professional +career as well as his personal happiness. +He could feel for the man there. "My +dears," he said, with his dilettante air, "the +goddess Calamity is delicate, and her feet are +tender. She treads not upon the ground, but +makes her path upon the hearts of men." In +this non-committal way he gave his comment, +for he usually found a bit of classical wisdom +to fit modern emergencies, and the habit +had imparted an antique bon-ton to his +conversation. Ethel could only wonder at the +lack of real sympathy. + +In the morning she went to see her grandmother. +The old lady had "heard" all she +wanted to hear about Dora and Basil Stanhope. +If men would marry a fool because +she was young and pretty, they must take the +consequences. "And why should Stanhope +have married at all?" she asked indignantly. +"No man can serve God and a woman at the +same time. He had to be a bad priest and a +good husband, or a bad husband and a good +priest. Basil Stanhope was honored, was +doing good, and he must needs be happy also. +He wanted too much, and lost everything. +Serve him right." + +"All can now find some fault in poor Basil +Stanhope," said Ethel. "Bryce was bitter +against him because Miss Caldwell shivers at +the word `divorce.'" + +"What has Bryce to do with Jane Caldwell?" + +"He is going to marry her, he says." + +"Like enough; she's a merry miss of two- +score, and rich. Bryce's marriage with anyone +will be a well-considered affair--a marriage +with all the advantages of a good +bargain. I'm tired of the whole subject. If +women will marry they should be as patient +as Griselda, in case there ever was such a +woman; if not, there's an end of the matter." + +"There are no Griseldas in this century, +grandmother." + +"Then there ought to be no marriages. +Basil Stanhope was a grand man in public. +What kind of a man was he in his home? +Measure a man by his home conduct, and +you'll not go wrong. It's the right place to +draw your picture of him, I can tell you that." + +"He has no home now, poor fellow." + +"Whose fault was it? God only knows. +Where is his wife?" + +"She has gone to Paris." + +"She has gone to the right place if she +wants to play the fool. But there, now, God +forbid I should judge her in the dark. +Women should stand by women--considering." + +"Considering?" + +"What they may have to put up with. It +is easy to see faults in others. I have sometimes +met with people who should see faults +in themselves. They are rather uncommon, +though." + +"I am sure Basil Stanhope will be miserable +all his life. He will break his heart, I +do believe." + +"Not so. A good heart is hard to break, +it grows strong in trouble. Basil Stanhope's +body will fail long before his heart does; and +even so an end must come to life, and after +that peace or what God wills." + +This scant sympathy Ethel found to be the +usual tone among her acquaintances. St. +Jude's got a new rector and a new idol, and +the Stanhope affair was relegated to the +limbo of things "it was proper to forget." + +So the weeks of the long winter went by, +and Ethel in the joy and hope of her own +love-life naturally put out of her mind the +sorrow of lives she could no longer help or +influence. Indeed, as to Dora, there were +frequent reports of her marvelous social success +in Paris; and Ethel did not doubt Stanhope +had found some everlasting gospel of +holy work to comfort his desolation. And +then also + + "Each day brings its petty dust, + Our soon-choked souls to fill; + And we forget because we must, + And not because we will." + + +One evening when May with heavy clouds +and slant rains was making the city as miserable +as possible, Ethel had a caller. His card +bore a name quite unknown, and his appearance +gave no clew to his identity. + +"Mr. Edmonds?" she said interrogatively. + +"Are you Miss Ethel Rawdon?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Mr. Basil Stanhope told me to put this +parcel in your hands." + +"Oh, Mr. Stanhope! I am glad to hear +from him. Where is he now?" + +"We buried him yesterday. He died last +Sunday as the bells were ringing for church +--pneumonia, miss. While reading the ser- +vice over a poor young man he had nursed +many weeks he took cold. The poor will miss +him sorely." + +"DEAD!" She looked aghast at the +speaker, and again ejaculated the pitiful, +astounding word. + +"Good evening, miss. I promised him to +return at once to the work he left me to do." +And he quietly departed, leaving Ethel standing +with the parcel in her hands. She ran +upstairs and locked it away. Just then she +could not bear to open it. + +"And it is hardly twelve months since he +was married," she sobbed. "Oh, Ruth, +Ruth, it is too cruel!" + +"Dear," answered Ruth, "there is no +death to such a man as Basil Stanhope." + +"He was so young, Ruth." + +"I know. `His high-born brothers called +him hence' at the age of twenty-nine, but + + "`It is not growing like a tree, + In bulk, doth make men better be; + Or standing like an oak three hundred year, + To fall at last, dry, bald and sear: + A lily of a day + Is fairer far in May; + Although it fall and die that night, + It was the plant and flower of light.'" + + +At these words the Judge put down his +Review to listen to Ethel's story, and when +she ceased speaking he had gone far further +back than any antique classic for compensation +and satisfaction: + +"He being made perfect in a short time +fulfilled a long time. For his soul pleased +the Lord, therefore hasted He to take him +away from among the wicked."[2] And that +evening there was little conversation. Every +heart was busy with its own thoughts. + + +[2] Wisdom of Solomon, IV., 13, 14. + + +CHAPTER XI + + +TRADE and commerce have their heroes as +well as arms, and the struggle in which Tyrrel +Rawdon at last plucked victory from apparent +failure was as arduous a campaign +as any military operations could have afforded. +It had entailed on him a ceaseless, +undaunted watch over antagonists rich and +powerful; and a fight for rights which contained +not only his own fortune, but the honor +of his father, so that to give up a fraction of +them was to turn traitor to the memory of a +parent whom he believed to be beyond all +doubt or reproach. Money, political power, +civic influence, treachery, bribery, the law's +delay and many other hindrances met him on +every side, but his heart was encouraged daily +to perseverance by love's tenderest sympathy. +For he told Ethel everything, and received +both from her fine intuitions and her father's +legal skill priceless comfort and advice. But +at last the long trial was over, the marriage +day was set, and Tyrrel, with all his rights +conceded, was honorably free to seek the happiness +he had safeguarded on every side. + +It was a lovely day in the beginning of May, +nearly two years after their first meeting, +when Tyrrel reached New York. Ethel knew +at what hour his train would arrive, she was +watching and listening for his step. They +met in each other's arms, and the blessed +hours of that happy evening were an over- +payment of delight for the long months of +their separation. + +In the morning Ethel was to introduce her +lover to Madam Rawdon, and side by side, +almost hand in hand, they walked down the +avenue together. Walked? They were so +happy they hardly knew whether their feet +touched earth or not. They had a constant +inclination to clasp hands, to run as little +children run; They wished to smile at everyone, +to bid all the world good morning. +Madam had resolved to be cool and careful +in her advances, but she quickly found herself +unable to resist the sight of so much love +and hope and happiness. The young people +together took her heart by storm, and she felt +herself compelled to express an interest in +their future, and to question Tyrrel about it. + +"What are you going to do with yourself +or make of yourself?" she asked Tyrrel one +evening when they were sitting together. "I +do hope you'll find some kind of work. Anything +is better than loafing about clubs and +such like places." + +"I am going to study law with Judge Rawdon. +My late experience has taught me its +value. I do not think I shall loaf in his +office." + +"Not if he is anywhere around. He works +and makes others work. Lawyering is a +queer business, but men can be honest in it +if they want to." + +"And, grandmother," said Ethel, "my father +says Tyrrel has a wonderful gift for +public speaking. He made a fine speech at +father's club last night. Tyrrel will go into +politics." + +"Will he, indeed? Tyrrel is a wonder. If +he manages to walk his shoes straight in the +zigzaggery ways of the law, he will be one of +that grand breed called `exceptions.' As for +politics, I don't like them, far from it. Your +grandfather used to say they either found a +man a rascal or made him one. However, +I'm ready to compromise on law and politics. +I was afraid with his grand voice he would +set up for a tenor." + +Tyrrel laughed. "I did once think of that +role," he said. + +"I fancied that. Whoever taught you to +use your voice knew a thing or two about +singing. I'll say that much." + +"My mother taught me." + +"Never! I wonder now!" + +"She was a famous singer. She was a +great and a good woman. I owe her for every +excellent quality there is in me." + +"No, you don't. You have got your black +eyes and hair her way, I'll warrant that, but +your solid make-up, your pluck and grit and +perseverance is the Rawdon in you. Without +Rawdon you would very likely now be strutting +about some opera stage, playing at kings +and lovemaking." + +"As it is----" + +"As it is, you will be lord consort of Rawdon +Manor, with a silver mine to back you." + +"I am sorry about the Manor," said Tyrrel. +"I wish the dear old Squire were alive +to meet Ethel and myself." + +"To be sure you do. But I dare say that +he is glad now to have passed out of it. +Death is a mystery to those left, but I have +no doubt it is satisfying to those who have +gone away. He died as he lived, very prop- +erly; walked in the garden that morning as +far as the strawberry beds, and the gardener +gave him the first ripe half-dozen in a young +cabbage leaf, and he ate them like a boy, and +said they tasted as if grown in Paradise, +then strolled home and asked Joel to shake +the pillows on the sofa in the hall, laid himself +down, shuffled his head easy among them, +and fell on sleep. So Death the Deliverer +found him. A good going home! Nothing to +fear in it." + +"Ethel tells me that Mr. Mostyn is now +living at Mostyn Hall." + +"Yes, he married that girl he would have +sold his soul for and took her there, four +months only after her husband's death. +When I was young he durst not have done it, +the Yorkshire gentry would have cut them +both." + +"I think," said Tyrrel, "American gentlemen +of to-day felt much the same. Will +Madison told me that the club cut him as +soon as Mrs. Stanhope left her husband. He +went there one day after it was known, and +no one saw him; finally he walked up to +McLean, and would have sat down, but +McLean said, `Your company is not desired, +Mr. Mostyn.' Mostyn said something in re- +ply, and McLean answered sternly, `True, +we are none of us saints, but there are lines +the worst of us will not pass; and if there is +any member of this club willing to interfere +between a bridegroom and his bride, I would +like to kick him out of it.' Mostyn struck +the table with some exclamation, and McLean +continued, `Especially when the wronged +husband is a gentleman of such stainless +character and unsuspecting nature as Basil +Stanhope--a clergyman also! Oh, the thing +is beyond palliation entirely!' And he +walked away and left Mostyn." + +"Well," said Madam, "if it came to kicking, +two could play that game. Fred is no +coward. I don't want to hear another word +about them. They will punish each other +without our help. Let them alone. I hope +you are not going to have a crowd at your +wedding. The quietest weddings are the +luckiest ones." + +"About twenty of our most intimate friends +are invited to the church," said Ethel. +"There will be no reception until we return +to New York in the fall." + +"No need of fuss here, there will be enough +when you reach Monk-Rawdon. The village +will be garlanded and flagged, the bells ring- +ing, and all your tenants and retainers out to +meet you." + +"We intend to get into our own home without +anyone being aware of it. Come, Tyrrel, +my dressmaker is waiting, I know. It is my +wedding gown, dear Granny, and oh, so +lovely!" + +"You will not be any smarter than I intend +to be, miss. You are shut off from color. +I can outdo you." + +"I am sure you can--and will. Here comes +father. What can he want?" They met him +at the door, and with a few laughing words +left him with Madam. She looked curiously +into his face and asked, "What is it, Edward?" + +"I suppose they have told you all the +arrangements. They are very simple. Did they +say anything about Ruth?" + +"They never named her. They said they +were going to Washington for a week, and +then to Rawdon Court. Ruth seems out of it +all. Are you going to turn her adrift, or present +her with a few thousand dollars? She +has been a mother to Ethel. Something ought +to be done for Ruth Bayard." + +"I intend to marry her." + +"I thought so." + +"She will go to her sister's in Philadelphia +for a month 's preparation. I shall marry her +there, and bring her home as my wife. She +is a sweet, gentle, docile woman. She will +make me happy." + +"Sweet, gentle, docile! Yes, that is the +style of wife Rawdon men prefer. What does +Ethel say?" + +"She is delighted. It was her idea. I was +much pleased with her thoughtfulness. Any +serious break in my life would now be a great +discomfort. You need not look so satirical, +mother; I thought of Ruth's life also." + +"Also an afterthought; but Ruth is gentle +and docile, and she is satisfied, and I am satisfied, +so then everything is proper and everyone +content. Come for me at ten on Wednesday +morning. I shall be ready. No refreshments, +I suppose. I must look after my own +breakfast. Won't you feel a bit shabby, Edward? +"And then the look and handclasp +between them turned every word into sweetness +and good-will. + +And as Ethel regarded her marriage rather +as a religious rite than a social function, she +objected to its details becoming in any sense +public, and her desires were to be regarded. +Yet everyone may imagine the white loveli- +ness of the bride, the joy of the bridegroom, +the calm happiness of the family breakfast, +and the leisurely, quiet leave-taking. The +whole ceremony was the right note struck at +the beginning of a new life, and they might +justly expect it would move onward in melodious +sequence. + + +Within three weeks after their marriage +they arrived at Rawdon Court. It was on a +day and at an hour when no one was looking +for them, and they stepped into the lovely +home waiting for them without outside observation. +Hiring a carriage at the railway +station, they dismissed it at the little bridge +near the Manor House, and sauntered happily +through the intervening space. The +door of the great hall stood open, and the +fire, which had been burning on its big hearth +unquenched for more than three hundred +years, was blazing merrily, as if some hand +had just replenished it. On the long table +the broad, white beaver hat of the dead +Squire was lying, and his oak walking stick +was beside it. No one had liked to remove +them. They remained just as he had put +them down, that last, peaceful morning of his +life. + +In a few minutes the whole household was +aware of their home-coming, and before the +day was over the whole neighborhood. Then +there was no way of avoiding the calls, the +congratulations, and the entertainments that +followed, and the old Court was once more +the center of a splendid hospitality. Of +course the Tyrrel-Rawdons were first on the +scene, and Ethel was genuinely glad to meet +again the good-natured Mrs. Nicholas. No +one could give her better local advice, and +Ethel quickly discovered that the best general +social laws require a local interpretation. +Her hands were full, her heart full, she +had so many interests to share, so many people +to receive and to visit, and yet when two +weeks passed and Dora neither came nor +wrote she was worried and dissatisfied. + +"Are the Mostyns at the Hall?" she asked +Mrs. Nicholas at last. "I have been expecting +Mrs. Mostyn every day, but she neither +comes nor writes to me." + +"I dare say not. Poor little woman! I'll +warrant she has been forbid to do either. If +Mostyn thought she wanted to see you, he +would watch day and night to prevent her +coming. He's turning out as cruel a man as +his father was, and you need not say a word +worse than that." + +"Cruel! Oh, dear, how dreadful! Men +will drink and cheat and swear, but a cruel +man seems so unnatural, so wicked." + +"To be sure, cruelty is the joy of devils. +As I said to John Thomas when we heard +about Mostyn's goings-on, we have got rid of +the Wicked One, but the wicked still remain +with us." + +This conversation having been opened, was +naturally prolonged by the relation of incidents +which had come through various sources +to Mrs. Rawdon's ears, all of them indicating +an almost incredible system of petty tyranny +and cruel contradiction. Ethel was amazed, +and finally angry at what she heard. Dora +was her countrywoman and her friend; she +instantly began to express her sympathy and +her intention of interfering. + +"You had better neither meddle nor make +in the matter," answered Mrs. Rawdon. +"Our Lucy went to see her, and gave her +some advice about managing Yorkshiremen. +And as she was talking Mostyn came in, and +was as rude as he dared to be. Then Lucy +asked him `if he was sick.' She said, `All +the men in the neighborhood, gentle and sim- +ple, were talking about him, and that it wasn't +a pleasant thing to be talked about in the way +they were doing it. You must begin to look +more like yourself, Mr. Mostyn; it is good +advice I am giving you,' she added; and Mostyn +told her he would look as he felt, whether +it was liked or not liked. And Lucy laughed, +and said, `In that case he would have to go +to his looking-glass for company.' Well, +Ethel, there was a time to joy a devil after +Lucy left, and some one of the servants went +on their own responsibility for a doctor; and +Mostyn ordered him out of the house, and he +would not go until he saw Mrs. Mostyn; and +the little woman was forced to come and say +`she was quite well,' though she was sobbing +all the time she spoke. Then the doctor told +Mostyn what he thought, and there is a quarrel +between them every time they meet." + +But Ethel was not deterred by these statements; +on the contrary, they stimulated her +interest in her friend. Dora needed her, and +the old feeling of protection stirred her to +interference. At any rate, she could call and +see the unhappy woman; and though Tyrrel +was opposed to the visit, and thought it every +way unwise, Ethel was resolved to make it. +"You can drive me there," she said, "then +go and see Justice Manningham and call for +me in half an hour." And this resolution +was strengthened by a pitiful little note +received from Dora just after her decision. +"Mostyn has gone to Thirsk," it said; "for +pity's sake come and see me about two o'clock +this afternoon." + +The request was promptly answered. As +the clock struck two Ethel crossed the threshold +of the home that might have been hers. +She shuddered at the thought. The atmosphere +of the house was full of fear and +gloom, the furniture dark and shabby, and +she fancied the wraiths of old forgotten +crimes and sorrows were gliding about the +sad, dim rooms and stairways. Dora rose in +a passion of tears to welcome her, and because +time was short instantly began her pitiful +story. + +"You know how he adored me once," she +said; "would you believe it, Ethel, we were +not two weeks married when he began to +hate me. He dragged me through Europe in +blazing heat and blinding snows when I was +sick and unfit to move. He brought me here +in the depth of winter, and when no one +called on us he blamed me; and from morning +till night, and sometimes all night long, +he taunts and torments me. After he heard +that you had bought the Manor he lost all +control of himself. He will not let me sleep. +He walks the floor hour after hour, declaring +he could have had you and the finest manor in +England but for a cat-faced woman like me. +And he blames me for poor Basil's death-- +says we murdered him together, and that he +sees blood on my hands." And she looked +with terror at her small, thin hands, and held +them up as if to protest against the charge. +When she next spoke it was to sob out, "Poor +Basil! He would pity me! He would help +me! He would forgive me! He knows now +that Mostyn was, and is, my evil genius." + +"Do not cry so bitterly, Dora, it hurts me. +Let us think. Is there nothing you can do?" + +"I want to go to mother." Then she drew +Ethel's head close to her and whispered a +few words, and Ethel answered, "You poor +little one, you shall go to your mother. Where +is she?" + +"She will be in London next week, and I +must see her. He will not let me go, but go +I must if I die for it. Mrs. John Thomas +Rawdon told me what to do, and I have been +following her advice." + +Ethel did not ask what it was, but added, + +"If Tyrrel and I can help you, send for us. +We will come. And, Dora, do stop weeping, +and be brave. Remember you are an American +woman. Your father has often told me +how you could ride with Indians or cowboys +and shoot with any miner in Colorado. A +bully like Mostyn is always a coward. Lift +up your heart and stand for every one of your +rights. You will find plenty of friends to +stand with you." And with the words she +took her by the hands and raised her to her +feet, and looked at her with such a beaming, +courageous smile that Dora caught its spirit, +and promised to insist on her claims for rest +and sleep. + +"When shall I come again, Dora?" + +"Not till I send for you. Mother will be +in London next Wednesday at the Savoy. I +intend to leave here Wednesday some time, +and may need you; will you come?" + +"Surely, both Tyrrel and I." + +Then the time being on a dangerous line +they parted. But Ethel could think of nothing +and talk of nothing but the frightful +change in her friend, and the unceasing misery +which had produced it. Tyrrel shared all +her indignation. The slow torture of any +creature was an intolerable crime in his eyes, +but when the brutality was exercised on a +woman, and on a countrywoman, he was +roused to the highest pitch of indignation. +When Wednesday arrived he did not leave +the house, but waited with Ethel for the +message they confidently expected. It came +about five o'clock--urgent, imperative, +entreating, "Come, for God's sake! He will +kill me." + +The carriage was ready, and in half an +hour they were at Mostyn Hall. No one answered +their summons, but as they stood +listening and waiting, a shrill cry of pain +and anger pierced the silence. It was followed +by loud voices and a confused noise-- +noise of many talking and exclaiming. Then +Tyrrel no longer hesitated. He opened the +door easily, and taking Ethel on his arm, +suddenly entered the parlor from which the +clamor came. Dora stood in the center of +the room like an enraged pythoness, her eyes +blazing with passion. + +"See!" she cried as Tyrrel entered the +room--"see!" And she held out her arm, +and pointed to her shoulder from which the +lace hung in shreds, showing the white flesh, +red and bruised, where Mostyn had gripped +her. Then Tyrrel turned to Mostyn, who +was held tightly in the grasp of his gardener +and coachman, and foaming with a rage that +rendered his explanation almost inarticulate, +especially as the three women servants gathered +around their mistress added their railing +and invectives to the general confusion. + +"The witch! The cat-faced woman!" he +screamed. "She wants to go to her mother! +Wants to play the trick she killed Basil Stanhope +with! She shall not! She shall not! I +will kill her first! She is mad! I will send +her to an asylum! She is a little devil! I +will send her to hell! Nothing is bad enough +--nothing----" + +"Mr. Mostyn," said Tyrrel. + +"Out of my house! What are you doing +here? Away! This is my house! Out of it +immediately!" + +"This man is insane," said Tyrrel to Dora. +"Put on your hat and cloak, and come home +with us." + +"I am waiting for Justice Manningham," +she answered with a calm subsidence of passion +that angered Mostyn more than her reproaches. +"I have sent for him. He will be +here in five minutes now. That brute"-- +pointing to Mostyn--"must be kept under +guard till I reach my mother. The magistrate +will bring a couple of constables with him." + +"This is a plot, then! You hear it! You! +You, Tyrrel Rawdon, and you, Saint Ethel, +are in it, all here on time. A plot, I say! Let +me loose that I may strangle the cat-faced +creature. Look at her hands, they are already +bloody!" + +At these words Dora began to sob passionately, +the servants, one and all, to comfort +her, or to abuse Mostyn, and in the +height of the hubbub Justice Manningham +entered with two constables behind him. + +"Take charge of Mr. Mostyn," he said to +them, and as they laid their big hands on his +shoulders the Justice added, "You will consider +yourself under arrest, Mr. Mostyn." + +And when nothing else could cow Mostyn, +he was cowed by the law. He sank almost +fainting into his chair, and the Justice listened +to Dora's story, and looked indignantly +at the brutal man, when she showed him her +torn dress and bruised shoulder. "I entreat +your Honor," she said, "to permit me to go +to my mother who is now in London." And +he answered kindly, "You shall go. You +are in a condition only a mother can help and +comfort. As soon as I have taken your deposition +you shall go." + +No one paid any attention to Mostyn's disclaimers +and denials. The Justice saw the +state of affairs. Squire Rawdon and Mrs. +Rawdon testified to Dora's ill-usage; the butler, +the coachman, the stablemen, the cook, +the housemaids were all eager to bear witness +to the same; and Mrs. Mostyn's appearance +was too eloquent a plea for any humane +man to deny her the mother-help she asked +for. + +Though neighbors and members of the +same hunt and clubs, the Justice took no +more friendly notice of Mostyn than he +would have taken of any wife-beating cotton- +weaver; and when all lawful preliminaries +had been arranged, he told Mrs. Mostyn that +he should not take up Mr. Mostyn's case till +Friday; and in the interval she would have +time to put herself under her mother's care. +She thanked him, weeping, and in her old, +pretty way kissed his hands, and "vowed he +had saved her life, and she would forever +remember his goodness." Mostyn mocked at +her "play-acting," and was sternly reproved +by the Justice; and then Tyrrel and Ethel +took charge of Mrs. Mostyn until she was +ready to leave for London. + +She was more nearly ready than they ex- +pected. All her trunks were packed, and the +butler promised to take them immediately to +the railway station. In a quarter of an hour +she appeared in traveling costume, with her +jewels in a bag, which she carried in her hand. +There was a train for London passing Monk- +Rawdon at eight o'clock; and after Justice +Manningham had left, the cook brought in +some dinner, which Dora asked the Rawdons +to share with her. It was, perhaps, a necessary +but a painful meal. No one noticed +Mostyn. He was enforced to sit still and +watch its progress, which he accompanied +with curses it would be a kind of sacrilege to +write down. But no one answered him, and +no one noticed the orders he gave for his own +dinner, until Dora rose to leave forever the +house of bondage. Then she said to the cook: + +"See that those gentlemanly constables +have something good to eat and to drink, and +when they have been served you may give +that man"--pointing to Mostyn--"the dinner +of bread and water he has so often prescribed +for me. After my train leaves you +are all free to go to your own homes. Farewell, +friends!" + +Then Mostyn raved again, and finally tried +his old loving terms. "Come back to me, +Dora," he called frantically. "Come back, +dearest, sweetest Dora, I will be your lover +forever. I will never say another cross word +to you." + +But Dora heard not and saw not. She left +the room without a glance at the man sitting +cowering between the officers, and blubbering +with shame and passion and the sense of +total loss. In a few minutes he heard the +Rawdon carriage drive to the door. Tyrrel +and Ethel assisted Dora into it, and the party +drove at once to the railway station. They +were just able to catch the London train. +The butler came up to report all the trunks +safely forwarded, and Dora dropped gold +into his hand, and bade him clear the house of +servants as soon as the morning broke. Fortunately +there was no time for last words and +promises; the train began to move, and Tyrrel +and Ethel, after watching Dora's white +face glide into the darkness, turned silently +away. That depression which so often follows +the lifting of burdens not intended for +our shoulders weighed on their hearts and +made speech difficult. Tyrrel was especially +affected by it. A quick feeling of something +like sympathy for Mostyn would not be reasoned +away, and he drew Ethel close within +his arm, and gave the coachman an order to +drive home as quickly as possible, for twilight +was already becoming night, and under +the trees the darkness felt oppressive. + +The little fire on the hearth and their belated +dinner somewhat relieved the tension; +but it was not until they had retired to a +small parlor, and Tyrrel had smoked a cigar, +that the tragedy of the evening became a +possible topic of conversation. Tyrrel opened +the subject by a question as to whether "he +ought to have gone with Dora to London." + +"Dora opposed the idea strongly when I +named it to her," answered Ethel. "She said +it would give opportunities for Mostyn to +slander both herself and you, and I think she +was correct. Every way she was best alone." + +"Perhaps, but I feel as if I ought to have +gone, as if I had been something less than a +gentleman; in fact, as if I had been very un- +gentle." + +"There is no need," answered Ethel a little +coldly. + +"It is a terrible position for Mostyn." + +"He deserves it." + +"He is so sensitive about public opinion." + +"In that case he should behave decently in +private." + +Then Tyrrel lit another cigar, and there +was another silence, which Ethel occupied in +irritating thoughts of Dora's unfortunate +fatality in trouble-making. She sat at a +little table standing between herself and Tyrrel. +It held his smoking utensils, and after +awhile she pushed them aside, and let the +splendid rings which adorned her hand fall +into the cleared space. Tyrrel watched her +a few moments, and then asked, "What are +you doing, Ethel, my dear?" + +She looked up with a smile, and then down +at the hand she had laid open upon the table. +"I am looking at the Ring of all Rings. +See, Tyrrel, it is but a little band of gold, and +yet it gave me more than all the gems of earth +could buy. Rubies and opals and sapphires +are only its guard. The simple wedding ring +is the ring of great price. It is the loveliest +ornament a happy woman can wear." + +Tyrrel took her hand and kissed it, and +kissed the golden band, and then answered, +"Truly an ornament if a happy wife wears +it; but oh, Ethel, what is it when it binds a +woman to such misery as Dora has just fled +from?" + +"Then it is a fetter, and a woman who has +a particle of self-respect will break it. The +Ring of all Rings!" she ejaculated again, as +she lifted the rubies and opals, and slowly +but smilingly encircled the little gold band. + +"Let us try now to forget that sorrowful +woman," said Tyrrel. "She will be with +her mother in a few hours. Mother-love can +cure all griefs. It never fails. It never +blames. It never grows weary. It is always +young and warm and true. Dora will be +comforted. Let us forget; we can do no +more." + +For a couple of days this was possible, but +then came Mrs. Nicholas Rawdon, and the +subject was perforce opened. "It was a bad +case," she said, "but it is being settled as +quickly and as quietly as possible. I believe +the man has entered into some sort of recognizance +to keep the peace, and has disappeared. +No one will look for him. The gentry +are against pulling one another down in +any way, and this affair they don't want +talked about. Being all of them married +men, it isn't to be expected, is it? Justice +Manningham was very sorry for the little +lady, but he said also `it was a bad precedent, +and ought not to be discussed.' And +Squire Bentley said, `If English gentlemen +would marry American women, they must +put up with American women's ways,' and +so on. None of them think it prudent to approve +Mrs. Mostyn's course. But they won't +get off as easy as they think. The women are +standing up for her. Did you ever hear anything +like that? And I'll warrant some husbands +are none so easy in their minds, as +my Nicholas said, `Mrs. Mostyn had sown +seed that would be seen and heard tell of for +many a long day.' Our Lucy, I suspect, had +more to do with the move than she will confess. +She got a lot of new, queer notions at +college, and I do believe in my heart she set +the poor woman up to the business. John +Thomas, of course, says not a word, but he +looks at Lucy in a very proud kind of way; +and I'll be bound he has got an object lesson +he'll remember as long as he lives. So has +Nicholas, though he bluffs more than a little +as to what he'd do with a wife that got a running- +away notion into her head. Bless you, +dear, they are all formulating their laws on +the subject, and their wives are smiling +queerly at them, and holding their heads a +bit higher than usual. I've been doing it +myself, so I know how they feel." + +Thus, though very little was said in the +newspapers about the affair, the notoriety +Mostyn dreaded was complete and thorough. +It was the private topic of conversation in +every household. Men talked it over in all +the places where men met, and women hired +the old Mostyn servants in order to get the +very surest and latest story of the poor wife's +wrongs, and then compared reports and even +discussed the circumstances in their own particular +clubs. + +At the Court, Tyrrel and Ethel tried to forget, +and their own interests were so many +and so important that they usually succeeded; +especially after a few lines from +Mrs. Denning assured them of Dora's safety +and comfort. And for many weeks the busy +life of the Manor sufficed; there was the hay +to cut in the meadow lands, and after it the +wheat fields to harvest. The stables, the kennels, +the farms and timber, the park and the +garden kept Tyrrel constantly busy. And +to these duties were added the social ones, +the dining and dancing and entertaining, the +horse racing, the regattas, and the enthusiasm +which automobiling in its first fever +engenders. + +And yet there were times when Tyrrel +looked bored, and when nothing but Squire +Percival's organ or Ethel's piano seemed to +exorcise the unrest and ennui that could not +be hid. Ethel watched these moods with a +wise and kind curiosity, and in the beginning +of September, when they perceptibly increased, +she asked one day, "Are you happy, +Tyrrel? Quite happy?" + +"I am having a splendid holiday," he answered, +"but----" + +"But what, dear?" + +"One could not turn life into a long holiday-- +that would be harder than the hardest +work." + +She answered "Yes," and as soon as she +was alone fell to thinking, and in the midst +of her meditation Mrs. Nicholas Rawdon entered +in a whirl of tempestuous delight. + +"What do you think?" she asked between +laughing and crying. "Whatever do you +think? Our Lucy had twins yesterday, two +fine boys as ever was. And I wish you could +see their grandfather and their father. They +are out of themselves with joy. They stand +hour after hour beside the two cradles, looking +at the little fellows, and they nearly came +to words this morning about their names." + +"I am so delighted!" cried Ethel. "And +what are you going to call them?" + +"One is an hour older than the other, and +John Thomas wanted them called Percival +and Nicholas. But my Nicholas wanted the +eldest called after himself, and he said so +plain enough. And John Thomas said `he +could surely name his own sons; and then +Nicholas told him to remember he wouldn't +have been here to have any sons at all but +for his father.' And just then I came into +the room to have a look at the little lads, and +when I heard what they were fratching about, +I told them it was none of their business, that +Lucy had the right to name the children, and +they would just have to put up with the +names she gave them." + +"And has Lucy named them?" + +"To be sure. I went right away to her +and explained the dilemma, and I said, `Now, +Lucy, it is your place to settle this question.' +And she answered in her positive little way, +`You tell father the eldest is to be called +Nicholas, and tell John Thomas the youngest +is to be called John Thomas. I can manage +two of that name very well. And say that I +won't have any more disputing about names, +the boys are as good as christened already.' +And of course when Lucy said that we all +knew it was settled. And I'm glad the eldest +is Nicholas. He is a fine, sturdy little York- +shireman, bawling out already for what he +wants, and flying into a temper if he doesn't +get it as soon as he wants it. Dearie me, +Ethel, I am a proud woman this morning. +And Nicholas is going to give all the hands +a holiday, and a trip up to Ambleside on +Saturday, though John Thomas is very much +against it." + +"Why is he against it?" + +"He says they will be holding a meeting +on Monday night to try and find out what +Old Nicholas is up to, and that if he doesn't +give them the same treat on the same date +next year, they'll hold an indignation meeting +about being swindled out of their rights. +And I'll pledge you my word John Thomas +knows the men he's talking about. However, +Nicholas is close with his money, and it will +do him good happen to lose a bit. Blood-letting +is healthy for the body, and perhaps +gold-letting may help the soul more than we +think for." + +This news stimulated Ethel's thinking, and +when she also stood beside the two cradles, +and the little Nicholas opened his big blue +eyes and began to "bawl for what he wanted," +a certain idea took fast hold of her, and she +nursed it silently for the next month, watch- +ing Tyrrel at the same time. It was near +October, however, before she found the +proper opportunity for speaking. There +had been a long letter from the Judge. It +said Ruth and he were home again after a +wonderful trip over the Northern Pacific +road. He wrote with enthusiasm of the +country and its opportunities, and of the big +cities they had visited on their return from +the Pacific coast. Every word was alive, the +magnitude and stir of traffic and wrestling +humanity seemed to rustle the paper. He +described New York as overflowing with business. +His own plans, the plans of others, the +jar of politics, the thrill of music and the +drama--all the multitudinous vitality that +crowded the streets and filled the air, even +to the roofs of the twenty-story buildings, +contributed to the potent exhilaration of the +letter. + +"Great George!" exclaimed Tyrrel. +"That is life! That is living! I wish we +were back in America!" + +"So do I, Tyrrel." + +"I am so glad. When shall we go? It is +now the twenty-eighth of September." + +"Are you very weary of Rawdon Court"' + +"Yes. If a man could live for the sake +of eating and sleeping and having a pleasant +time, why Rawdon Court would be a heaven +to him; but if he wants to DO something with +his life, he would be most unhappy here." + +"And you want to do something?" + +"You would not have loved a man who did +not want TO DO. We have been here four +months. Think of it! If I take four months +out of every year for twenty years, I shall +lose, with travel, about seven years of my life, +and the other things to be dropped with them +may be of incalculable value." + +"I see, Tyrrel. I am not bound in any +way to keep Rawdon Court. I can sell it to- +morrow." + +"But you would be grieved to do so?" + +"Not at all. Being a lady of the Manor +does not flatter me. The other squires would +rather have a good man in my place." + +"Why did you buy it?" + +"As I have told you, to keep Mostyn out, +and to keep a Rawdon here. But Nicholas +Rawdon craves the place, and will pay well +for his desire. It cost me eighty thousand +pounds. He told father he would gladly give +me one hundred thousand pounds whenever +I was tired of my bargain. I will take the +hundred thousand pounds to-morrow. There +would then be four good heirs to Rawdon on +the place." + +Here the conversation was interrupted by +Mrs. Nicholas, who came to invite them to +the christening feast of the twins. Tyrrel +soon left the ladies together, and Ethel at +once opened the desired conversation. + +"I am afraid we may have left the Court +before the christening," she said. "Mr. Rawdon +is very unhappy here. He is really homesick." + +"But this is his home, isn't it? And a very +fine one." + +"He cannot feel it so. He has large interests +in America. I doubt if I ever induce +him to come here again. You see, this visit +has been our marriage trip." + +"And you won't live here! I never heard +the line. What will you do with the Court? +It will be badly used if it is left to servants +seven or eight months every year." + +"I suppose I must sell it. I see no----" + +"If you only would let Nicholas buy it. +You might be sure then it would be well +cared for, and the little lads growing up in it, +who would finally heir it. Oh, Ethel, if you +would think of Nicholas first. He would +honor the place and be an honor to it." + +Out of this conversation the outcome was +as satisfactory as it was certain, and within +two weeks Nicholas Rawdon was Squire of +Rawdon Manor, and possessor of the famous +old Manor House. Then there followed a +busy two weeks for Tyrrel, who had the +superintendence of the packing, which was +no light business. For though Ethel would +not denude the Court of its ancient furniture +and ornaments, there were many things belonging +to the personal estate of the late +Squire which had been given to her by his +will, and could not be left behind. But by +the end of October cases and trunks were all +sent off to the steamship in which their passage +was taken; and the Rawdon estate, +which had played such a momentous part in +Ethel's life having finished its mission, had +no further influence, and without regret +passed out of her physical life forever. + +Indeed, their willingness to resign all +claims to the old home was a marvel to both +Tyrrel and Ethel. On their last afternoon +there they walked through the garden, and +stood under the plane tree where their vows +of love had been pledged, and smiled and +wondered at their indifference. The beauteous +glamor of first love was gone as com- +pletely as the flowers and scents and songs +that had then filled the charming place. But +amid the sweet decay of these things they +once more clasped hands, looking with supreme +confidence into each other's eyes. All +that had then been promised was now certain; +and with an affection infinitely sweeter +and surer, Tyrrel drew Ethel to his heart, and +on her lips kissed the tenderest, proudest +words a woman hears, "My dear wife!" + +This visit was their last adieu, all the rest +had been said, and early the next morning +they left Monk-Rawdon station as quietly +as they had arrived. During their short +reign at Rawdon Court they had been very +popular, and perhaps their resignation was +equally so. After all, they were foreigners, +and Nicholas Rawdon was Yorkshire, root +and branch. + +"Nice young people," said Justice Manningham +at a hunt dinner, "but our ways +are not their ways, nor like to be. The young +man was born a fighter, and there are neither +bears nor Indians here for him to fight; and +our politics are Greek to him; and the lady, +very sweet and beautiful, but full of new +ideas--ideas not suitable for women, and we +do not wish our women changed." + +"Good enough as they are," mumbled +Squire Oakes. + +"Nicest Americans I ever met," added +Earl Danvers, "but Nicholas Rawdon will +be better at Rawdon Court." To which +statement there was a general assent, and +then the subject was considered settled. + +In the meantime Tyrrel and Ethel had +reached London and gone to the Metropole +Hotel; because, as Ethel said, no one knew +where Dora was; but if in England, she was +likely to be at the Savoy. They were to be +two days in London. Tyrrel had banking +and other business to fully occupy the time, +and Ethel remembered she had some shopping +to do, a thing any woman would discover +if she found herself in the neighborhood +of Regent Street and Piccadilly. On +the afternoon of the second day this duty was +finished, and she returned to her hotel satisfied +but a little weary. As she was going up +the steps she noticed a woman coming slowly +down them. It was Dora Mostyn. They met +with great enthusiasm on Dora's part, and +she turned back and went with Ethel to her +room. + +Ethel looked at her with astonishment. She +was not like any Dora she had previously +seen. Her beauty had developed wondrously, +she had grown much taller, and her childish +manner had been superseded by a carriage +and air of superb grace and dignity. She +had now a fine color, and her eyes were +darker, softer, and more dreamy than ever. +"Take off your hat, Dora," said Ethel, "and +tell me what has happened. You are positively +splendid. Where is Mr. Mostyn?" + +"I neither know nor care. He is tramping +round the world after me, and I intend to +keep him at it. But I forget. I must tell +you how THAT has come about." + +"We heard from Mrs. Denning. She said +she had received you safely." + +"My dear mother! She met me like an +angel; comforted and cared for me, never +said one word of blame, only kissed and +pitied me. We talked things over, and she +advised me to go to New York. So we took +three passages under the names of Mrs. John +Gifford, Miss Gifford, and Miss Diana Gifford. +Miss Diana was my maid, but mother +thought a party of three would throw Mostyn +off our track." + +"A very good idea." + +"We sailed at once. On the second day +out I had a son. The poor little fellow died +in a few hours, and was buried at sea. But +his birth has given me the power to repay +to Fred Mostyn some of the misery he caused +me." + +"How so? I do not see." + +"Oh, you must see, if you will only remember +how crazy Englishmen are about +their sons. Daughters don't count, you know, +but a son carries the property in the family +name. He is its representative for the next +generation. As I lay suffering and weeping, +a fine scheme of revenge came clearly to me. +Listen! Soon after we got home mother +cabled Mostyn's lawyer that `Mrs. Mostyn +had had a son.' Nothing was said of the +boy's death. Almost immediately I was notified +that Mr. Mostyn would insist on the +surrender of the child to his care. I took +no notice of the letters. Then he sent his lawyer +to claim the child and a woman to take +care of it. I laughed them to scorn, and defied +them to find the child. After them came +Mostyn himself. He interviewed doctors, +overlooked baptismal registers, advertised +far and wide, bribed our servants, bearded +father in his office, abused Bryce on the avenue, +waylaid me in all my usual resorts, and +bombarded me with letters, but he knows no +more yet than the cable told him. And the +man is becoming a monomaniac about HIS +SON." + +"Are you doing right, Dora?" + +"If you only knew how he had tortured +me! Father and mother think he deserves all +I can do to him. Anyway, he will have it to +bear. If he goes to the asylum he threatened +me with, I shall be barely satisfied. The +`cat-faced woman' is getting her innings +now." + +"Have you never spoken to him or written +to him? Surely" + +"He caught me one day as I came out of +our house, and said, `Madam, where is my +son?' And I answered, `You have no son. +The child WAS MINE. You shall never see his +face in this world. I have taken good care of +that.' + +"`I will find him some day,' he said, and I +laughed at him, and answered, `He is too +cunningly hid. Do you think I would let the +boy know he had such a father as you? No, +indeed. Not unless there was property for +the disgrace.' I touched him on the raw in +that remark, and then I got into my carriage +and told the coachman to drive quickly. +Mostyn attempted to follow me, but the whip +lashing the horses was in the way." And +Dora laughed, and the laugh was cruel and +mocking and full of meaning. + +"Dora, how can you? How can you find +pleasure in such revenges," + +"I am having the greatest satisfaction of +my life. And I am only beginning the just +retribution, for my beauty is enthralling the +man again, and he is on the road to a mad +jealousy of me." + +"Why don't you get a divorce? This is a +case for that remedy. He might then marry +again, and you also." + +"Even so, I should still torment him. If +he had sons he would be miserable in the +thought that his unknown son might, on his +death, take from them the precious Mostyn +estate, and that wretched, old, haunted house +of his. I am binding him to misery on every +hand." + +"Is Mrs. Denning here with you?" + +"Both my father and mother are with me. +Father is going to take a year's rest, and we +shall visit Berlin, Vienna, Rome, Paris or +wherever our fancy leads us." + +"And Mr. Mostyn?" + +"He can follow me round, and see nobles +and princes and kings pay court to the beauty +of the `cat-faced woman.' I shall never notice +him, never speak to him; but you need +not look so suspicious, Ethel. Neither by +word nor deed will I break a single convention +of the strictest respectability." + +"Mr. Mostyn ought to give you your freedom." + +"I have given freedom to myself. I have +already divorced him. When they brought +my dead baby for me to kiss, I slipped into +its little hand the ring that made me his +mother. They went to the bottom of the sea +together. As for ever marrying again, not +in this life. I have had enough of it. My +first husband was the sweetest saint out of +heaven, and my second was some mean little +demon that had sneaked his way out of hell; +and I found both insupportable." She lifted +her hat as she spoke, and began to pin it on +her beautifully dressed hair. "Have no fear +for me," she continued. "I am sure Basil +watches over me. Some day I shall be good, +and he will be happy." Then, hand in hand, +they walked to the door together, and there +were tears in both voices as they softly said +"Good-by." + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +A WEEK after this interview Tyrrel and +Ethel were in New York. They landed early +in the morning, but the Judge and Ruth were +on the pier to meet them; and they breakfasted +together at the fashionable hotel, +where an elegant suite had been reserved for +the residence of the Tyrrel-Rawdons until +they had perfected their plans for the future. +Tyrrel was boyishly excited, but Ethel's interest +could not leave her father and his new +wife. These two had lived in the same home +for fifteen years, and then they had married +each other, and both of them looked fifteen +years younger. The Judge was actually +merry, and Ruth, in spite of her supposed +"docility," had quite reversed the situation. +It was the Judge who was now docile, and +even admiringly obedient to all Ruth's wifely +advices and admonitions. + +The breakfast was a talkative, tardy one, +but at length the Judge went to his office and +Tyrrel had to go to the Custom House. Ethel +was eager to see her grandmother, and she +was sure the dear old lady was anxiously +waiting her arrival. And Ruth was just as +anxious for Ethel to visit her renovated home. +She had the young wife's delight in its beauty, +and she wanted Ethel to admire it with her. + +"We will dine with you to-morrow, Ruth," +said Ethel, "and I will come very early and +see all the improvements. I feel sure the +house is lovely, and I am glad father made +you such a pretty nest. Nothing is too pretty +for you, Ruth." And there was no insincerity +in this compliment. These two women +knew and loved and trusted each other without +a shadow of doubt or variableness. + +So Ruth went to her home, and Ethel +hastened to Gramercy Park. Madam was +eagerly watching for her arrival. + +"I have been impatient for a whole hour, +all in a quiver, dearie," she cried. "It is +nearly noon." + +"I have been impatient also, Granny, but +father and Ruth met us at the pier and stayed +to breakfast with us, and you know how men +talk and talk." + +"Ruth and father down at the pier! How +you dream!" + +"They were really there. And they do +seem so happy, grandmother. They are so +much in love with each other." + +"I dare say. There are no fools like old +fools. So you have sold the Court to Nicholas +Rawdon, and a cotton-spinner is Lord of +the Manor. Well, well, how are the mighty +fallen!" + +"I made twenty thousand pounds by the +sale. Nicholas Rawdon is a gentleman, and +John Thomas is the most popular man in all +the neighborhood. And, Granny, he has two +sons--twins--the handsomest little chaps +you ever saw. No fear of a Rawdon to heir +the Manor now." + +"Fortune is a baggage. When she is ill +to a man she knows no reason. She sent John +Thomas to Parliament, and kept Fred out at +a loss, too. She took the Court from Fred +and gave it to John Thomas, and she gives +him two sons about the same time she gives +Fred one, and that one she kidnaps out of +his sight and knowledge. Poor Fred!" + +"Well, grandmother, it is `poor Fred's' +own doing, and, I assure you, Fred would +have been most unwelcome at the Court. And +the squires and gentry round did not like a +woman in the place; they were at a loss what +to do with me. I was no good for dinners and +politics and hunting. I embarrassed them." +"Of course you would. They would have +to talk decently and behave politely, and they +would not be able to tell their choicest stories. +Your presence would be a bore; but could not +Tyrrel take your place?" + +"Granny, Tyrrel was really unhappy in +that kind of life. And he was a foreigner, +so was I. You know what Yorkshire people +think of foreigners. They were very courteous, +but they were glad to have the Yorkshire +Rawdons in our place. And Tyrrel did +not like working with the earth; he loves +machinery and electricity." + +"To be sure. When a man has got used +to delving for gold or silver, cutting grass +and wheat does seem a slow kind of business." + +"And he disliked the shut-up feeling the +park gave him. He said we were in the midst +of solitude three miles thick. It made him +depressed and lonely." + +"That is nonsense. I am sure on the +Western plains he had solitude sixty miles +thick--often." + +"Very likely, but then he had an horizon, +even if it were sixty miles away. And no +matter how far he rode, there was always +that line where earth seemed to rise to heaven. +But the park was surrounded by a brick +wall fourteen feet high. It had no horizon. +You felt as if you were in a large, green box +--at least Tyrrel did. The wall was covered +with roses and ivy, but still it was a boundary +you could not pass, and could not see over. +Don't you understand, Granny, how Tyrrel +would feel this?" + +"I can't say I do. Why didn't he come +with you?" + +"He had to go to the Customs about our +trunks, and there were other things. He will +see you to-morrow. Then we are going to +dine with father, and if you will join us, we +will call at six for you. Do, Granny." + +"Very well, I shall be ready." But after +a moment's thought she continued, "No, I +will not go. I am only a mortal woman, and +the company of angels bores me yet." + +"Now, Granny, dear." + +"I mean what I say. Your father has +married such a piece of perfection that I feel +my shortcomings in her presence more than +I can bear. But I'll tell you what, dearie, +Tyrrel may come for me Saturday night at +six, and I will have my dinner with you. I +want to see the dining-room of a swell hotel +in full dress; and I will wear my violet satin +and white Spanish lace, and look as smart as +can be, dear. And Tyrrel may buy me a +bunch of white violets. I am none too old +to wear them. Who knows but I may go to +the theater also?" + +"Oh, Granny, you are just the dearest +young lady I know! Tyrrel will be as proud +as a peacock." + +"Well, I am not as young as I might be, +but I am a deal younger than I look. Listen, +dearie, I have never FELT old yet! Isn't that +a thing to be grateful for? I don't read +much poetry, except it be in the Church +Hymnal, but I cut a verse out of a magazine +a year ago which just suits my idea of life, +and, what is still more wonderful, I took the +trouble to learn it. Oliver Wendell Holmes +wrote it, and I'll warrant him for a good, +cheerful, trust-in-God man, or he'd never +have thought of such sensible words." + +"I am listening, Granny, for the verse." + +"Yes, and learn it yourself. It will come +in handy some day, when Tyrrel and you are +getting white-haired and handsome, as everyone +ought to get when they have passed their +half-century and are facing the light of the +heavenly world: + + "At sixty-two life has begun; + At seventy-three begins once more; + Fly swifter as thou near'st the sun, + And brighter shine at eighty-four. + At ninety-five, + Should thou arrive, + Still wait on God, and work and thrive." + +Such words as those, Ethel, keep a woman +young, and make her right glad that she was +born and thankful that she lives." + +"Thank you for them, dear Granny. Now +I must run away as fast as I can. Tyrrel will +be wondering what has happened to me." + +In this conjecture she was right. Tyrrel +was in evening dress, and walking restlessly +about their private parlor. "Ethel," he said, +plaintively, "I have been so uneasy about +you." + +"I am all right, dearest. I was with grandmother. +I shall be ready in half an hour." + +Even if she had been longer, she would +have earned the delay, for she returned to him +in pink silk and old Venice point de rose, +with a pretty ermine tippet across her shoulders. +It was a joy to see her, a delight to +hear her speak, and she walked as if she +heard music. The dining-room was crowded +when they entered, but they made a sensation. +Many rose and came to welcome them home. +Others smiled across the busy space and lifted +their wineglass in recognition. The room was +electric, sensitive and excited. It was flooded +with a soft light; it was full of the perfume +of flowers. The brilliant coloring of silks and +satins, and the soft miracle of white lace +blended with the artistically painted walls +and roof. The aroma of delicate food, the +tinkle of crystal, the low murmur of happy +voices, the thrill of sudden laughter, and the +delicious accompaniment of soft, sensuous +music completed the charm of the room. To +eat in such surroundings was as far beyond +the famous flower-crowned feasts of Rome +and Greece as the east is from the west. It +was impossible to resist its influence. From +the point of the senses, the soul was drinking +life out of a cup of overflowing delight. And +it was only natural that in their hearts both +Tyrrel and Ethel should make a swift, though +silent, comparison between this feast of sensation +and flow of human attraction and the +still, sweet order of the Rawdon dining-room, +with its noiseless service, and its latticed win- +dows open to all the wandering scents and +songs of the garden. + +Perhaps the latter would have the sweetest +and dearest and most abiding place in their +hearts; but just in the present they were +enthralled and excited by the beauty and good +comradeship of the social New York dinner +function. Their eyes were shining, their +hearts thrilling, they went to their own apartments +hand in hand, buoyant, vivacious, feeling +that life was good and love unchangeable. +And the windows being open, they walked to +one and stood looking out upon the avenue. +All signs of commerce had gone from the +beautiful street, but it was busy and noisy +with the traffic of pleasure, and the hum of +multitudes, the rattle of carriages, the rush +of autos, the light, hurrying footsteps of +pleasure-seekers insistently demanded their +sympathy. + +"We cannot go out to-night," said Ethel. +"We are both more weary than we know." + +"No, we cannot go to-night; but, oh, Ethel, +we are in New York again! Is not that joy +enough? I am so happy! I am so happy. +We are in New York again! There is no city +like it in all the world. Men live here, they +work here, they enjoy here. How happy, how +busy we are going to be, Ethel!" + +During these joyful, hopeful expectations +he was walking up and down the room, his +eyes dilating with rapture, and Ethel closed +the window and joined him. They magnified +their joy, they wondered at it, they were sure +no one before them had ever loved as they +loved. "And we are going to live here, +Ethel; going to have our home here! Upon +my honor, I cannot speak the joy I feel, but" +--and he went impetuously to the piano and +opened it--"but I can perhaps sing it-- + + "`There is not a spot in this wide-peopled earth + So dear to the heart as the Land of our Birth; + 'Tis the home of our childhood, the beautiful spot + Which Memory retains when all else is forgot. + May the blessing of God ever hallow the sod, + And its valleys and hills by our children be trod! + + "`May Columbia long lift her white crest o'er the wave, + The birthplace of science and the home of the brave. + In her cities may peace and prosperity dwell, + And her daughters in virtue and beauty excel. + May the blessing of God ever hallow the sod, + And its valleys and hills by our children be trod.'" + + +With the patriotic music warbling in his +throat he turned to Ethel, and looked at her +as a lover can, and she answered the look; and +thus leaning toward each other in visible +beauty and affection their new life began. +Between smiles and kisses they sat speaking, +not of the past with all its love and loveliness, +but of the high things calling to them from +the future, the work and duties of life set to +great ends both for public and private good. +And as they thus communed Tyrrel took his +wife's hand and slowly turned on her finger +the plain gold wedding ring behind its barrier +of guarding gems. + +"Ethel," he said tenderly, "what enchantments +are in this ring of gold! What romances +I used to weave around it, and, dearest, +it has turned every Romance into Reality." + +"And, Tyrrel, it will also turn all our +Realities into Romances. Nothing in our life +will ever become common. Love will glorify +everything." + +"And we shall always love as we love +now?" + +"We shall love far better, far stronger, +far more tenderly." + +"Even to the end of our lives, Ethel?" + +"Yes, to the very end." + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +A PAUSE of blissful silence followed this +assurance. It was broken by a little exclamation +from Ethel. "Oh, dear," she said, "how +selfishly thoughtless my happiness makes me! +I have forgotten to tell you, until this moment, +that I have a letter from Dora. It was +sent to grandmother's care, and I got it this +afternoon; also one from Lucy Rawdon. The +two together bring Dora's affairs, I should +say, to a pleasanter termination than we could +have hoped for." + +"Where is the Enchantress?" + +"In Paris at present." + +"I expected that answer." + +"But listen, she is living the quietest of +lives; the most devoted daughter cannot excel +her." + +"Is she her own authority for that astonishing +statement? Do you believe it?" + +"Yes, under the circumstances. Mr. Denning +went to Paris for a critical and painful +operation, and Dora is giving all her love and +time toward making his convalescence as +pleasant as it can be. In fact, her description +of their life in the pretty chateau they +have rented outside of Paris is quite idyllic. +When her father is able to travel they are +going to Algiers for the winter, and will return +to New York about next May. Dora +says she never intends to leave America +again." + +"Where is her husband? Keeping watch +on the French chateau?" + +"That is over. Mr. Denning persuaded +Dora to write a statement of all the facts concerning +the birth of the child. She told her +husband the name under which they traveled, +the names of the ship, the captain, and the +ship's doctor, and Mrs. Denning authenticated +the statement; but, oh, what a mean, +suspicious creature Mostyn is!" + +"What makes you reiterate that description +of him?" + +"He was quite unable to see any good or +kind intent in this paper. He proved its correctness, +and then wrote Mr. Denning a very +contemptible letter." + +"Which was characteristic enough. What +did he say?" + +"That the amende honorable was too late; +that he supposed Dora wished to have the +divorce proceedings stopped and be reinstated +as his wife, but he desired the whole Denning +family to understand that was now impossible; +he was `fervently, feverishly awaiting +his freedom, which he expected at any hour.' +He said it was `sickening to remember the +weariness of body and soul Dora had given +him about a non-existing child, and though +this could never be atoned for, he did think +he ought to be refunded the money Dora's +contemptible revenge had cost him."' + +"How could he? How could he?" + +"Of course Mr. Denning sent him a check, +a pretty large one, I dare say. And I suppose +he has his freedom by this time, unless +he has married again." + +"He will never marry again." + +"Indeed, that is the strange part of the +story. It was because he wanted to marry +again that he was `fervently, feverishly awaiting +his freedom.'" + +"I can hardly believe it, Ethel. What +does Dora say?" + +"I have the news from Lucy. She says +when Mostyn was ignored by everyone in the +neighborhood, one woman stood up for him +almost passionately. Do you remember Miss +Sadler?" + +"That remarkable governess of the Surreys? +Why, Ethel, she is the very ugliest +woman I ever saw." + +"She is so ugly that she is fascinating. If +you see her one minute you can never forget +her, and she is brains to her finger tips. She +ruled everyone at Surrey House. She was +Lord Surrey's secretary and Lady Surrey's +adviser. She educated the children, and they +adored her; she ruled the servants, and they +obeyed her with fear and trembling. Nothing +was done in Surrey House without her approval. +And if her face was not handsome, +she had a noble presence and a manner that +was irresistible." + +"And she took Mostyn's part?" + +"With enthusiasm. She abused Dora individually, +and American women generally. +She pitied Mr. Mostyn, and made others do +so; and when she perceived there would be +but a shabby and tardy restoration for him +socially, she advised him to shake off the dust +of his feet from Monk-Rawdon, and begin life +in some more civilized place. And in order +that he might do so, she induced Lord Surrey +to get him a very excellent civil appointment +in Calcutta." + +"Then he is going to India?" + +"He is probably now on the way there. +He sold the Mostyn estate----" + +"I can hardly believe it." + +"He sold it to John Thomas Rawdon. +John Thomas told me it belonged to Rawdon +until the middle of the seventeenth century, +and he meant to have it back. He has +got it." + +"Miss Sadler must be a witch." + +"She is a sensible, practical woman, who +knows how to manage men. She has soothed +Mostyn's wounded pride with appreciative +flattery and stimulated his ambition. She +has promised him great things in India, and +she will see that he gets them." + +"He must be completely under her control." + +"She will never let him call his soul his +own, but she will manage his affairs to +perfection. And Dora is forever rid of that +wretched influence. The man can never again +come between her and her love; never again +come between her and happiness. There will +be the circumference of the world as a barrier." + +"There will be Jane Sadler as a barrier. +She will be sufficient. The Woman Between +will annihilate The Man Between. Dora is +now safe. What will she do with herself?" + +"She will come back to New York and be +a social power. She is young, beautiful, rich, +and her father has tremendous financial influence. +Social affairs are ruled by finance. +I should not wonder to see her in St. Jude's, +a devotee and eminent for good works." + +"And if Basil Stanhope should return?" + +"Poor Basil--he is dead." + +"How do you know that?" + +"What DO you mean, Tyrrel?" + +"Are you sure Basil is dead? What proof +have you?" + +"You must be dreaming! Of course he is +dead! His friend came and told me so--told +me everything." + +"Is that all?" + +"There were notices in the papers." + +"Is that all?" + +"Mr. Denning must have known it when he +stopped divorce proceedings." + +"Doubtless he believed it; he wished to do +so." + +"Tyrrel, tell me what you mean." + +"I always wondered about his death rather +than believed in it. Basil had a consuming +sense of honor and affection for the Church +and its sacred offices. He would have died +willingly rather than drag them into the mire +of a divorce court. When the fear became +certainty he disappeared--really died to all +his previous life." + +"But I cannot conceive of Basil lying for +any purpose." + +"He disappeared. His family and friends +took on themselves the means they thought +most likely to make that disappearance a +finality." + +"Have you heard anything, seen anything?" + +"One night just before I left the West a +traveler asked me for a night's lodging. He +had been prospecting in British America in +the region of the Klondike, and was full of +incidental conversation. Among many other +things he told me of a wonderful sermon he +had heard from a young man in a large mining +camp. I did not give the story any attention +at the time, but after he had gone +away it came to me like a flash of light that +the preacher was Basil Stanhope." + +"Oh, Tyrrel, if it was--if it was! What a +beautiful dream! But it is only a dream. +If it could be true, would he forgive Dora? +Would he come back to her?" + +"No!" Tyrrel's voice was positive and +even stern. "No, he could never come back +to her. She might go to him. She left him +without any reason. I do not think he would +care to see her again." + +"I would say no more, Tyrrel. I do not +think as you do. It is a dream, a fancy, just +an imagination. But if it were true, Basil +would wish no pilgrimage of abasement. He +would say to her, `Dear one, HUSH! Love is +here, travel-stained, sore and weary, but so +happy to welcome you!' And he would open +all his great, sweet heart to her. May I tell +Dora some day what you have thought and +said? It will be something good for her to +dream about." + +"Do you think she cares? Did she ever +love him?" + +"He was her first love. She loved him +once with all her heart. If it would be right +--safe, I mean, to tell Dora----" + +"On this subject there is so much NOT to +say. I would never speak of it." + +"It may be a truth" + +"Then it is among those truths that should +be held back, and it is likely only a trick of +my imagination, a supposition, a fancy." + +A miracle! And of two miracles I prefer +the least, and that is that Basil is dead. Your +young preacher is a dream; and, oh, Tyrrel, +I am so tired! It has been such a long, long, +happy day! I want to sleep. My eyes are +shutting as I talk to you. Such a long, long, +happy day!" + +"And so many long, happy days to come, +dearest." + +"So many," she answered, as she took +Tyrrel's hand, and lifted her fur and fan +and gloves. "What were those lines we read +together the night before we were married? +I forget, I am so tired. I know that life +should have many a hope and aim, duties +enough, and little cares, and now be quiet, +and now astir, till God's hand beckoned us +unawares----" + +The rest was inaudible. But between that +long, happy day and the present time there +has been an arc of life large enough to place +the union of Tyrrel and Ethel Rawdon among +those blessed bridals that are + +"The best of life's romances." + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Etext of The Man Between, by Amelia E. Barr + diff --git a/old/mnbtw10.zip b/old/mnbtw10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..875c42e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/mnbtw10.zip |