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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Simpleton, by Charles Reade
+
+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: A Simpleton
+
+Author: Charles Reade
+
+Release Date: May 16, 2006 [EBook #2301]
+Last Updated: March 5, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SIMPLETON ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Donald Lainson
+
+
+
+
+
+A SIMPLETON
+
+
+By Charles Reade
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+It has lately been objected to me, in studiously courteous terms of
+course, that I borrow from other books, and am a plagiarist. To this
+I reply that I borrow facts from every accessible source, and am not a
+plagiarist. The plagiarist is one who borrows from a homogeneous work:
+for such a man borrows not ideas only, but their treatment. He who
+borrows only from heterogeneous works is not a plagiarist. All fiction,
+worth a button, is founded on facts; and it does not matter one straw
+whether the facts are taken from personal experience, hearsay, or
+printed books; only those books must not be works of fiction.
+
+Ask your common sense why a man writes better fiction at forty than he
+can at twenty. It is simply because he has gathered more facts from each
+of these three sources,--experience, hearsay, print.
+
+To those who have science enough to appreciate the above distinction,
+I am very willing to admit that in all my tales I use a vast deal of
+heterogeneous material, which in a life of study I have gathered from
+men, journals, blue-books, histories, biographies, law reports, etc. And
+if I could, I would gladly specify all the various printed sources to
+which I am indebted. But my memory is not equal to such a feat. I can
+only say that I rarely write a novel without milking about two hundred
+heterogeneous cows into my pail, and that “A Simpleton” is no exception
+to my general method; that method is the true method, and the best, and
+if on that method I do not write prime novels, it is the fault of the
+man, and not of the method.
+
+I give the following particulars as an illustration of my method:
+
+In “A Simpleton,” the whole business of the girl spitting blood, the
+surgeon ascribing it to the liver, the consultation, the final solution
+of the mystery, is a matter of personal experience accurately recorded.
+But the rest of the medical truths, both fact and argument, are all from
+medical books far too numerous to specify. This includes the strange
+fluctuations of memory in a man recovering his reason by degrees. The
+behavior of the doctor's first two patients I had from a surgeon's
+daughter in Pimlico. The servant-girl and her box; the purple-faced,
+pig-faced Beak and his justice, are personal experience. The business of
+house-renting, and the auction-room, is also personal experience.
+
+In the nautical business I had the assistance of two practical seamen:
+my brother, William Barrington Reade, and Commander Charles Edward
+Reade, R.N.
+
+In the South African business I gleaned from Mr. Day's recent handbooks;
+the old handbooks; Galton's “Vacation Tourist;” “Philip Mavor; or, Life
+among the Caffres;” “Fossor;” “Notes on the Cape of Good Hope,” 1821;
+“Scenes and Occurrences in Albany and Caffre-land,” 1827; Bowler's
+“South African Sketches;” “A Campaign in South Africa,” Lucas; “Five
+Years in Caffre-land,” Mrs. Ward; etc., etc., etc. But my principal
+obligation on this head is to Mr. Boyle, the author of some admirable
+letters to the Daily telegraph, which he afterwards reprinted in a
+delightful volume. Mr. Boyle has a painter's eye, and a writer's pen,
+and if the African scenes in “A Simpleton” please my readers, I hope
+they will go to the fountain-head, where they will find many more.
+
+As to the plot and characters, they are invented.
+
+The title, “A Simpleton,” is not quite new. There is a French
+play called La Niaise. But La Niaise is in reality a woman of rare
+intelligence, who is taken for a simpleton by a lot of conceited fools,
+and the play runs on their blunders, and her unpretending wisdom. That
+is a very fine plot, which I recommend to our female novelists. My aim
+in these pages has been much humbler, and is, I hope, too clear to need
+explanation.
+
+CHARLES READE.
+
+
+
+
+A SIMPLETON.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+A young lady sat pricking a framed canvas in the drawing-room of Kent
+Villa, a mile from Gravesend; she was making, at a cost of time and
+tinted wool, a chair cover, admirably unfit to be sat upon--except by
+some severe artist, bent on obliterating discordant colors. To do her
+justice, her mind was not in her work; for she rustled softly with
+restlessness as she sat, and she rose three times in twenty minutes, and
+went to the window. Thence she looked down, over a trim flowery
+lawn, and long, sloping meadows, on to the silver Thames, alive with
+steamboats ploughing, white sails bellying, and great ships carrying to
+and fro the treasures of the globe. From this fair landscape and epitome
+of commerce she retired each time with listless disdain; she was waiting
+for somebody.
+
+Yet she was one of those whom few men care to keep waiting. Rosa
+Lusignan was a dark but dazzling beauty, with coal-black hair, and
+glorious dark eyes, that seemed to beam with soul all day long; her
+eyebrows, black, straightish, and rather thick, would have been majestic
+and too severe, had the other features followed suit; but her black
+brows were succeeded by long silky lashes, a sweet oval face, two
+pouting lips studded with ivory, and an exquisite chin, as feeble as any
+man could desire in the partner of his bosom. Person--straight, elastic,
+and rather tall. Mind--nineteen. Accomplishments--numerous; a poor
+French scholar, a worse German, a worse English, an admirable dancer,
+an inaccurate musician, a good rider, a bad draughtswoman, a bad
+hairdresser, at the mercy of her maid; a hot theologian, knowing
+nothing, a sorry accountant, no housekeeper, no seamstress, a fair
+embroideress, a capital geographer, and no cook.
+
+Collectively, viz., mind and body, the girl we kneel to.
+
+This ornamental member of society now glanced at the clock once more,
+and then glided to the window for the fourth time. She peeped at the
+side a good while, with superfluous slyness or shyness, and presently
+she drew back, blushing crimson; then she peeped again, still more
+furtively; then retired softly to her frame, and, for the first time,
+set to work in earnest. As she plied her harpoon, smiling now, the large
+and vivid blush, that had suffused her face and throat, turned from
+carnation to rose, and melted away slowly, but perceptibly, and ever so
+sweetly; and somebody knocked at the street door.
+
+The blow seemed to drive her deeper into her work. She leaned over it,
+graceful as a willow, and so absorbed, she could not even see the door
+of the room open and Dr. Staines come in.
+
+All the better: her not perceiving that slight addition to her furniture
+gives me a moment to describe him.
+
+A young man, five feet eleven inches high, very square shouldered and
+deep chested, but so symmetrical, and light in his movements, that his
+size hardly struck one at first. He was smooth shaved, all but a short,
+thick, auburn whisker; his hair was brown. His features no more then
+comely: the brow full, the eyes wide apart and deep-seated, the lips
+rather thin, but expressive, the chin solid and square. It was a face
+of power, and capable of harshness; but relieved by an eye of unusual
+color, between hazel and gray, and wonderfully tender. In complexion
+he could not compare with Rosa; his cheek was clear, but pale; for
+few young men had studied night and day so constantly. Though but
+twenty-eight years of age, he was literally a learned physician; deep in
+hospital practice; deep in books; especially deep in German science,
+too often neglected or skimmed by English physicians. He had delivered a
+course of lectures at a learned university with general applause.
+
+As my reader has divined, Rosa was preparing the comedy of a cool
+reception; but looking up, she saw his pale cheek tinted with a lover's
+beautiful joy at the bare sight of her, and his soft eye so divine with
+love, that she had not the heart to chill him. She gave him her hand
+kindly, and smiled brightly on him instead of remonstrating. She lost
+nothing by it, for the very first thing he did was to excuse himself
+eagerly. “I am behind time: the fact is, just as I was mounting my
+horse, a poor man came to the gate to consult me. He had a terrible
+disorder I have sometimes succeeded in arresting--I attack the cause
+instead of the symptoms, which is the old practice--and so that detained
+me. You forgive me?”
+
+“Of course. Poor man!--only you said you wanted to see papa, and he
+always goes out at two.”
+
+When she had been betrayed into saying this, she drew in suddenly, and
+blushed with a pretty consciousness.
+
+“Then don't let me lose another minute,” said the lover. “Have you
+prepared him for--for--what I am going to have the audacity to say?”
+
+Rosa answered, with some hesitation, “I MUST have--a little. When I
+refused Colonel Bright--you need not devour my hand quite--he is forty.”
+
+Her sentence ended, and away went the original topic, and grammatical
+sequence along with it. Christopher Staines recaptured them both. “Yes,
+dear, when you refused Colonel Bright”--
+
+“Well, papa was astonished; for everybody says the colonel is a most
+eligible match. Don't you hate that expression? I do. Eligible!”
+
+Christopher made due haste, and recaptured her. “Yes, love, your papa
+said”--
+
+“I don't think I will tell you. He asked me was there anybody else; and
+of course I said 'No.'”
+
+“Oh!”
+
+“Oh, that is nothing; I had not time to make up my mind to tell the
+truth. I was taken by surprise; and you know one's first impulse is to
+fib--about THAT.”
+
+“But did you really deceive him?”
+
+“No, I blushed; and he caught me; so he said, 'Come, now, there was.'”
+
+“And you said, 'Yes, there is,' like a brave girl as you are.”
+
+“What, plump like that? No, I was frightened out of my wits, like a
+brave girl as I am not, and said I should never marry any one he could
+disapprove; and then--oh, then I believe I began to cry. Christopher,
+I'll tell you something; I find people leave off teasing you when you
+cry--gentlemen, I mean. Ladies go on all the more. So then dear papa
+kissed me, and told me I must not be imprudent, and throw myself away,
+that was all; and I promised him I never would. I said he would be sure
+to approve my choice; and he said he hoped so. And so he will.”
+
+Dr. Staines looked thoughtful, and said he hoped so too. “But now
+it comes to the point of asking him for such a treasure, I feel my
+deficiencies.”
+
+“Why, what deficiencies? You are young, and handsome, and good, and ever
+so much cleverer than other people. You have only to ask for me, and
+insist on having me. Come, dear, go and get it over.” She added, mighty
+coolly, “There is nothing so DREADFUL as suspense.”
+
+“I'll go this minute,” said he, and took a step towards the door; but he
+turned, and in a moment was at her knees. He took both her hands in his,
+and pressed them to his beating bosom, while his beautiful eyes poured
+love into hers point-blank. “May I tell him you love me? Oh, I know you
+cannot love me as I love you; but I may say you love me a little, may I
+not?--that will go farther with him than anything else. May I, Rosa, may
+I?--a little?”
+
+His passion mastered her. She dropped her head sweetly on his shoulder,
+and murmured, “You know you may, my own. Who would not love you?”
+
+He parted lingeringly from her, then marched away, bold with love and
+hope, to demand her hand in marriage.
+
+Rosa leaned back in her chair, and quivered a little with new emotions.
+Christopher was right; she was not capable of loving like him; but
+still the actual contact of so strong a passion made her woman's nature
+vibrate. A dewy tear hung on the fringes of her long lashes, and she
+leaned back in her chair and fluttered awhile.
+
+That emotion, almost new to her, soon yielded, in her girlish mind, to a
+complacent languor; and that, in its turn, to a soft reverie. So she was
+going to be married! To be mistress of a house; settle in London (THAT
+she had quite determined long ago); be able to go out into the streets
+all alone, to shop, or visit; have a gentleman all her own, whom she
+could put her finger on any moment and make him take her about, even to
+the opera and the theatre; to give dinner-parties her own self, and even
+a little ball once in a way; to buy whatever dresses she thought proper,
+instead of being crippled by an allowance; have the legal right of
+speaking first in society, even to gentlemen rich in ideas but bad
+starters, instead of sitting mumchance and mock-modest; to be Mistress,
+instead of Miss--contemptible title; to be a woman, instead of a girl;
+and all this rational liberty, domestic power, and social dignity were
+to be obtained by merely wedding a dear fellow, who loved her, and was
+so nice; and the bright career to be ushered in with several delights,
+each of them dear to a girl's very soul: presents from all her friends;
+as many beautiful new dresses as if she was changing her body or her
+hemisphere, instead of her name; eclat; going to church, which is a
+good English girl's theatre of display and temple of vanity, and there
+tasting delightful publicity and whispered admiration, in a heavenly
+long veil, which she could not wear even once if she remained single.
+
+This bright variegated picture of holy wedlock, and its essential
+features, as revealed to young ladies by feminine tradition, though not
+enumerated in the Book of Common Prayer writ by grim males, so entranced
+her, that time flew by unheeded, and Christopher Staines came back from
+her father. His step was heavy; he looked pale, and deeply distressed;
+then stood like a statue, and did not come close to her, but cast a
+piteous look, and gasped out one word, that seemed almost to choke
+him,--“REFUSED!”
+
+Miss Lusignan rose from her chair, and looked almost wildly at him with
+her great eyes. “Refused?” said she, faintly.
+
+“Yes,” said he, sadly. “Your father is a man of business; and he took
+a mere business view of our love: he asked me directly what provision
+I could make for his daughter and her children. Well, I told him I had
+three thousand pounds in the Funds, and a good profession; and then I
+said I had youth, health, and love, boundless love, the love that can
+do, or suffer, the love that can conquer the world.”
+
+“Dear Christopher! And what COULD he say to all that?”
+
+“He ignored it entirely. There! I'll give you his very words. He said,
+'In that case, Dr. Staines, the simple question is, what does your
+profession bring you in per annum?'”
+
+“Oh! There! I always hated arithmetic, and now I abominate it.”
+
+“Then I was obliged to confess I had scarcely received a hundred pounds
+in fees this year; but I told him the reason; this is such a small
+district, and all the ground occupied. London, I said, was my sphere.”
+
+“And so it is,” said Rosa, eagerly; for this jumped with her own little
+designs. “Genius is wasted in the country. Besides, whenever anybody
+worth curing is ill down here, they always send to London for a doctor.”
+
+“I told him so, dearest,” said the lover. “But he answered me directly,
+then I must set up in London, and as soon as my books showed an income
+to keep a wife, and servants, and children, and insure my life for five
+thousand pounds”--
+
+“Oh, that is so like papa. He is director of an insurance company, so
+all the world must insure their lives.”
+
+“No, dear, he was quite right there: professional incomes are most
+precarious. Death spares neither young nor old, neither warm hearts
+nor cold. I should be no true physician if I could not see my own
+mortality.” He hung his head and pondered a moment, then went on, sadly,
+“It all comes to this--until I have a professional income of eight
+hundred a year at least, he will not hear of our marrying; and the cruel
+thing is, he will not even consent to an engagement. But,” said the
+rejected, with a look of sad anxiety, “you will wait for me without
+that, dear Rosa?”
+
+She could give him that comfort, and she gave it him with loving
+earnestness. “Of course I will; and it shall not be very long. Whilst
+you are making your fortune, to please papa, I will keep fretting, and
+pouting, and crying, till he sends for you.”
+
+“Bless you, dearest! Stop!--not to make yourself ill! not for all the
+world.” The lover and the physician spoke in turn.
+
+He came, all gratitude, to her side, and they sat, hand in hand,
+comforting each other: indeed, parting was such sweet sorrow that they
+sat, handed, and very close to one another, till Mr. Lusignan, who
+thought five minutes quite enough for rational beings to take leave in,
+walked into the room and surprised them. At sight of his gray head and
+iron-gray eyebrows, Christopher Staines started up and looked confused;
+he thought some apology necessary, so he faltered out, “Forgive me, sir;
+it is a bitter parting to me, you may be sure.”
+
+Rosa's bosom heaved at these simple words. She flew to her father,
+and cried, “Oh, papa! papa! you were never cruel before;” and hid her
+burning face on his shoulder; and then burst out crying, partly for
+Christopher, partly because she was now ashamed of herself for having
+taken a young man's part so openly.
+
+Mr. Lusignan looked sadly discomposed at this outburst: she had taken
+him by his weak point; he told her so. “Now, Rosa,” said he, rather
+peevishly, “you know I hate--noise.”
+
+Rosa had actually forgotten that trait for a single moment; but, being
+reminded of it, she reduced her sobs in the prettiest way, not to offend
+a tender parent who could not bear noise. Under this homely term, you
+must know, he included all scenes, disturbances, rumpuses, passions; and
+expected all men, women, and things in Kent Villa to go smoothly--or go
+elsewhere.
+
+“Come, young people,” said he, “don't make a disturbance. Where's the
+grievance? Have I said he shall never marry you? Have I forbidden him
+to correspond? or even to call, say twice a year. All I say is, no
+marriage, nor contract of marriage, until there is an income.” Then he
+turned to Christopher. “Now if you can't make an income without her, how
+could you make one with her, weighed down by the load of expenses a wife
+entails? I know her better than you do; she is a good girl, but rather
+luxurious and self-indulgent. She is not cut out for a poor man's wife.
+And pray don't go and fancy that nobody loves my child but you. Mine is
+not so hot as yours, of course; but believe me, sir, it is less selfish.
+You would expose her to poverty and misery; but I say no; it is my duty
+to protect her from all chance of them; and, in doing it, I am as much
+your friend as hers, if you could but see it. Come, Dr. Staines, be
+a man, and see the world as it is. I have told you how to earn my
+daughter's hand and my esteem: you must gain both, or neither.”
+
+Dr. Staines was never quite deaf to reason: he now put his hand to his
+brow and said, with a sort of wonder and pitiful dismay, “My love
+for Rosa selfish! Sir, your words are bitter and hard.” Then, after a
+struggle, and with rare and touching candor, “Ay, but so are bark and
+steel; yet they are good medicines.” Then with a great glow in his heart
+and tears in his eyes, “My darling shall not be a poor man's wife,
+she who would adorn a coronet, ay, or a crown. Good-by, Rosa, for the
+present.” He darted to her, and kissed her hand with all his soul. “Oh,
+the sacrifice of leaving you,” he faltered; “the very world is dark
+to me without you. Ah, well, I must earn the right to come again.” He
+summoned all his manhood, and marched to the door. There he seemed to
+turn calmer all of a sudden, and said firmly, yet humbly, “I'll try and
+show you, sir, what love can do.”
+
+“And I'll show you what love can suffer,” said Rosa, folding her
+beautiful arms superbly.
+
+It was not in her to have shot such a bolt, except in imitation; yet how
+promptly the mimic thunder came, and how grand the beauty looked, with
+her dark brows, and flashing eyes, and folded arms! much grander and
+more inspired than poor Staines, who had only furnished the idea.
+
+But between these two figures swelling with emotion, the representative
+of common sense, Lusignan pere, stood cool and impassive; he shrugged
+his shoulders, and looked on both lovers as a couple of ranting novices
+he was saving from each other and almshouses.
+
+For all that, when the lover had torn himself away, papa's composure was
+suddenly disturbed by a misgiving. He stepped hastily to the stairhead,
+and gave it vent. “Dr. Staines,” said he, in a loud whisper (Staines was
+half way down the stairs: he stopped). “I trust to you as a gentleman,
+not to mention this; it will never transpire here. Whatever we do--no
+noise!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Rosa Lusignan set herself pining as she had promised; and she did it
+discreetly for so young a person. She was never peevish, but always sad
+and listless. By this means she did not anger her parent, but only made
+him feel she was unhappy, and the house she had hitherto brightened
+exceeding dismal.
+
+By degrees this noiseless melancholy undermined the old gentleman, and
+he well-nigh tottered.
+
+But one day, calling suddenly on a neighbor with six daughters, he heard
+peals of laughter, and found Rosa taking her full share of the senseless
+mirth. She pulled up short at sight of him, and colored high; but it
+was too late, for he launched a knowing look at her on the spot, and
+muttered something about seven foolish virgins.
+
+He took the first opportunity, when they were alone, and told her he was
+glad to find she was only dismal at home.
+
+But Rosa had prepared for him. “One can be loud without being gay at
+heart,” said she, with a lofty, languid air. “I have not forgotten your
+last words to HIM. We were to hide our broken hearts from the world. I
+try to obey you, dear papa; but, if I had my way, I would never go
+into the world at all. I have but one desire now--to end my days in a
+convent.”
+
+“Please begin them first. A convent! Why, you'd turn it out of window.
+You are no more fit to be a nun than--a pauper.”
+
+Not having foreseen this facer, Rosa had nothing ready; so she received
+it with a sad, submissive, helpless sigh, as who would say, “Hit me,
+papa: I have no friend now.” So then he was sorry he had been so clever;
+and, indeed, there is one provoking thing about “a woman's weakness”--it
+is invincible.
+
+The next minute, what should come but a long letter from Dr. Staines,
+detailing his endeavors to purchase a practice in London, and his
+ill-success. The letter spoke the language of love and hope; but the
+facts were discouraging; and, indeed, a touching sadness pierced through
+the veil of the brave words.
+
+Rosa read it again and again, and cried over it before her father, to
+encourage him in his heartless behavior.
+
+About ten days after this, something occurred that altered her mood.
+
+She became grave and thoughtful, but no longer lugubrious. She seemed
+desirous to atone to her father for having disturbed his cheerfulness.
+She smiled affectionately on him, and often sat on a stool at his knee,
+and glided her hand into his.
+
+He was not a little pleased, and said to himself, “She is coming round
+to common-sense.”
+
+Now, on the contrary, she was farther from it than ever.
+
+At last he got the clew. One afternoon he met Mr. Wyman coming out of
+the villa. Mr. Wyman was the consulting surgeon of that part.
+
+“What! anybody ill?” said Mr. Lusignan. “One of the servants?”
+
+“No; it is Miss Lusignan.”
+
+“Why, what is the matter with her?”
+
+Wyman hesitated. “Oh, nothing very alarming. Would you mind asking her?”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“The fact is, she requested me not to tell you: made me promise.”
+
+“And I insist upon your telling me.”
+
+“And I think you are quite right, sir, as her father. Well, she is
+troubled with a little spitting of blood.”
+
+Mr. Lusignan turned pale. “My child! spitting of blood! God forbid!”
+
+“Oh, do not alarm yourself. It is nothing serious.”
+
+“Don't tell me!” said the father. “It is always serious. And she kept
+this from me!”
+
+Masking his agitation for the time, he inquired how often it had
+occurred, this grave symptom.
+
+“Three or four times this last month. But I may as well tell you at
+once: I have examined her carefully, and I do not think it is from the
+lungs.”
+
+“From the throat, then?”
+
+“No; from the liver. Everything points to that organ as the seat
+of derangement: not that there is any lesion; only a tendency to
+congestion. I am treating her accordingly, and have no doubt of the
+result.”
+
+“Who is the ablest physician hereabouts?” asked Lusignan, abruptly.
+
+“Dr. Snell, I think.”
+
+“Give me his address.”
+
+“I'll write to him, if you like, and appoint a consultation.” He added,
+with vast but rather sudden alacrity, “It will be a great satisfaction
+to my own mind.”
+
+“Then send to him, if you please, and let him be here to-morrow morning;
+if not, I shall take her to London for advice at once.”
+
+On this understanding they parted, and Lusignan went at once to his
+daughter. “O my child!” said he, deeply distressed, “how could you hide
+this from me?”
+
+“Hide what, papa?” said the girl, looking the picture of
+unconsciousness.
+
+“That you have been spitting blood.”
+
+“Who told you that?” said she, sharply.
+
+“Wyman. He is attending you.”
+
+Rosa colored with anger. “Chatterbox! He promised me faithfully not to.”
+
+“But why, in Heaven's name? What! would you trust this terrible thing to
+a stranger, and hide it from your poor father?”
+
+“Yes,” replied Rosa, quietly.
+
+The old man would not scold her now; he only said, sadly, “I see how it
+is: because I will not let you marry poverty, you think I do not love
+you.” And he sighed.
+
+“O papa! the idea!” said Rosa. “Of course, I know you love me. It was
+not that, you dear, darling, foolish papa. There! if you must know, it
+was because I did not want you to be distressed. I thought I might get
+better with a little physic; and, if not, why, then I thought, 'Papa is
+an old man; la! I dare say I shall last his time;' and so, why should I
+poison your latter days with worrying about ME?”
+
+Mr. Lusignan stared at her, and his lip quivered; but he thought the
+trait hardly consistent with her superficial character. He could not
+help saying, half sadly, half bitterly, “Well, but of course you have
+told Dr. Staines.”
+
+Rosa opened her beautiful eyes, like two suns. “Of course I have done
+nothing of the sort. He has enough to trouble him, without that. Poor
+fellow! there he is, worrying and striving to make his fortune, and gain
+your esteem--'they go together,' you know; you told him so.” (Young cats
+will scratch when least expected.) “And for me to go and tell him I am
+in danger! Why, he would go wild. He would think of nothing but me and
+my health. He would never make his fortune: and so then, even when I
+am gone, he will never get a wife, because he has only got genius and
+goodness and three thousand pounds. No, papa, I have not told poor
+Christopher. I may tease those I love. I have been teasing YOU this ever
+so long; but frighten them, and make them miserable? No!”
+
+And here, thinking of the anguish that was perhaps in store for those
+she loved, she wanted to cry; it almost choked her not to. But she
+fought it bravely down: she reserved her tears for lighter occasions and
+less noble sentiments.
+
+Her father held out his arms to her. She ran her footstool to him, and
+sat nestling to his heart.
+
+“Please forgive me my misconduct. I have not been a dutiful daughter
+ever since you--but now I will. Kiss me, my own papa! There! Now we are
+as we always were.”
+
+Then she purred to him on every possible topic but the one that now
+filled his parental heart, and bade him good-night at last with a
+cheerful smile.
+
+Wyman was exact, and ten minutes afterwards Dr. Snell drove up in a
+carriage and pair. He was intercepted in the hall by Wyman, and, after a
+few minutes' conversation, presented to Mr. Lusignan.
+
+The father gave vent to his paternal anxiety in a few simple but
+touching words, and was proceeding to state the symptoms as he had
+gathered them from his daughter; but Dr. Snell interrupted him politely,
+and said he had heard the principal symptoms from Mr. Wyman. Then,
+turning to the latter, he said, “We had better proceed to examine the
+patient.”
+
+“Certainly,” said Mr. Lusignan. “She is in the drawing-room;” and he led
+the way, and was about to enter the room, when Wyman informed him it was
+against etiquette for him to be present at the examination.
+
+“Oh, very well!” said he. “Yes, I see the propriety of that. But oblige
+me by asking her if she has anything on her mind.”
+
+Dr. Snell bowed a lofty assent; for, to receive a hint from a layman was
+to confer a favor on him.
+
+The men of science were closeted full half an hour with the patient. She
+was too beautiful to be slurred over, even by a busy doctor: he felt her
+pulse, looked at her tongue, and listened attentively to her lungs, to
+her heart, and to the organ suspected by Wyman. He left her at last with
+a kindly assurance that the case was perfectly curable.
+
+At the door they were met by the anxious father, who came with throbbing
+heart, and asked the doctors' verdict.
+
+He was coolly informed that could not be given until the consultation
+had taken place; the result of that consultation would be conveyed to
+him.
+
+“And pray, why can't I be present at the consultation? The grounds on
+which two able men agree or disagree must be well worth listening to.”
+
+“No doubt,” said Dr. Snell; “but,” with a superior smile, “my dear sir,
+it is not the etiquette.”
+
+“Oh, very well,” said Lusignan. But he muttered, “So, then, a father is
+nobody!”
+
+And this unreasonable person retired to his study, miserable, and gave
+up the dining-room to the consultation.
+
+They soon rejoined him.
+
+Dr. Snell's opinion was communicated by Wyman. “I am happy to tell you
+that Dr. Snell agrees with me, entirely: the lungs are not affected, and
+the liver is congested, but not diseased.”
+
+“Is that so, Dr. Snell?” asked Lusignan, anxiously.
+
+“It is so, sir.” He added, “The treatment has been submitted to me, and
+I quite approve it.”
+
+He then asked for a pen and paper, and wrote a prescription. He assured
+Mr. Lusignan that the case had no extraordinary feature, whatever; he
+was not to alarm himself. Dr. Snell then drove away, leaving the parent
+rather puzzled, but, on the whole, much comforted.
+
+And here I must reveal an extraordinary circumstance.
+
+Wyman's treatment was by drugs.
+
+Dr. Snell's was by drugs.
+
+Dr. Snell, as you have seen, entirely approved Wyman's treatment.
+
+His own had nothing in common with it. The Arctic and Antarctic poles
+are not farther apart than was his prescription from the prescription he
+thoroughly approved.
+
+Amiable science! In which complete diversity of practice did not
+interfere with perfect uniformity of opinion.
+
+All this was kept from Dr. Staines, and he was entirely occupied in
+trying to get a position that might lead to fortune, and satisfy Mr.
+Lusignan. He called on every friend he had, to inquire where there was
+an opening. He walked miles and miles in the best quarters of London,
+looking for an opening; he let it be known in many quarters that he
+would give a good premium to any physician who was about to retire, and
+would introduce him to his patients.
+
+No: he could hear of nothing.
+
+Then, after a great struggle with himself, he called upon his uncle,
+Philip Staines, a retired M.D., to see if he would do anything for him.
+He left this to the last, for a very good reason: Dr. Philip was an
+irritable old bachelor, who had assisted most of his married relatives;
+but, finding no bottom to the well, had turned rusty and crusty, and now
+was apt to administer kicks instead of checks to all who were near and
+dear to him. However, Christopher was the old gentleman's favorite, and
+was now desperate; so he mustered courage, and went. He was graciously
+received--warmly, indeed. This gave him great hopes, and he told his
+tale.
+
+The old bachelor sided with Mr. Lusignan. “What!” said he, “do you
+want to marry, and propagate pauperism? I thought you had more sense.
+Confound it all I had just one nephew whose knock at my street-door did
+not make me tremble; he was a bachelor and a thinker, and came for a
+friendly chat; the rest are married men, highwaymen, who come to say,
+'Stand and deliver;' and now even you want to join the giddy throng.
+Well, don't ask me to have any hand in it. You are a man of promise; and
+you might as well hang a millstone round your neck as a wife. Marriage
+is a greater mistake than ever now; the women dress more and manage
+worse. I met your cousin Jack the other day, and his wife with seventy
+pounds on her back; and next door to paupers. No; whilst you are a
+bachelor, like me, you are my favorite, and down in my will for a lump.
+Once marry, and you join the noble army of foot-pads, leeches, vultures,
+paupers, gone coons, and babblers about brats--and I disown you.”
+
+There was no hope from old Crusty. Christopher left him, snubbed and
+heart-sick. At last he met a sensible man, who made him see there was
+no short cut in that profession. He must be content to play the up-hill
+game; must settle in some good neighborhood; marry, if possible, since
+husbands and fathers of families prefer married physicians; and so be
+poor at thirty, comfortable at forty, and rich at fifty--perhaps.
+
+Then Christopher came down to his lodgings at Gravesend, and was very
+unhappy; and after some days of misery, he wrote a letter to Rosa in a
+moment of impatience, despondency, and passion.
+
+Rosa Lusignan got worse and worse. The slight but frequent hemorrhage
+was a drain upon her system, and weakened her visibly. She began to lose
+her rich complexion, and sometimes looked almost sallow; and a slight
+circle showed itself under her eyes. These symptoms were unfavorable;
+nevertheless, Dr. Snell and Mr. Wyman accepted them cheerfully, as fresh
+indications that nothing was affected but the liver; they multiplied and
+varied their prescriptions; the malady ignored those prescriptions, and
+went steadily on. Mr. Lusignan was terrified but helpless. Rosa resigned
+and reticent.
+
+But it was not in human nature that a girl of this age could always and
+at all hours be mistress of herself. One evening in particular she stood
+before the glass in the drawing-room, and looked at herself a long
+time with horror. “Is that Rosa Lusignan?” said she, aloud; “it is her
+ghost.”
+
+A deep groan startled her. She turned; it was her father. She thought he
+was fast asleep; and so indeed he had been; but he was just awaking, and
+heard his daughter utter her real mind. It was a thunder-clap. “Oh, my
+child! what shall I do?” he cried.
+
+Then Rosa was taken by surprise in her turn. She spoke out. “Send for
+a great physician, papa. Don't let us deceive ourselves; it is our only
+chance.”
+
+“I will ask Mr. Wyman to get a physician down from London.”
+
+“No, no; that is no use; they will put their heads together, and he will
+say whatever Mr. Wyman tells him. La! papa, a clever man like you, not
+to see what a cheat that consultation was. Why, from what you told me,
+one can see it was managed so that Dr. Snell could not possibly have an
+opinion of his own. No; no more echoes of Mr. Chatterbox. If you really
+want to cure me, send for Christopher Staines.”
+
+“Dr. Staines! he is very young.”
+
+“But he is very clever, and he is not an echo. He won't care how many
+doctors he contradicts when I am in danger. Papa, it is your child's one
+chance.”
+
+“I'll try it,” said the old man, eagerly. “How confident you look! your
+color has come back. It is an inspiration. Where is he?”
+
+“I think by this time he must be at his lodgings in Gravesend. Send to
+him to-morrow morning.”
+
+“Not I! I'll go to him to-night. It is only a mile, and a fine clear
+night.”
+
+“My own, good, kind papa! Ah! well, come what may, I have lived long
+enough to be loved. Yes, dear papa, save me. I am very young to die; and
+he loves me so dearly.”
+
+The old man bustled away to put on something warmer for his night walk,
+and Rosa leaned back, and the tears welled out of her eyes, now he was
+gone.
+
+Before she had recovered her composure, a letter was brought her, and
+this was the letter from Christopher Staines, alluded to already.
+
+She took it from the servant with averted head, not wishing it to be
+seen she had been crying, and she started at the handwriting; it seemed
+such a coincidence that it should come just as she was sending for him.
+
+
+MY OWN BELOVED ROSA,--I now write to tell you, with a heavy heart, that
+all is vain. I cannot make, nor purchase, a connection, except as others
+do, by time and patience. Being a bachelor is quite against a young
+physician. If I had a wife, and such a wife as you, I should be sure
+to get on; you would increase my connection very soon. What, then,
+lies before us? I see but two things--to wait till we are old, and our
+pockets are filled, but our hearts chilled or soured; or else to marry
+at once, and climb the hill together. If you love me as I love you, you
+will be saving till the battle is over; and I feel I could find energy
+and fortitude for both. Your father, who thinks so much of wealth, can
+surely settle something on YOU; and I am not too poor to furnish a house
+and start fair. I am not quite obscure--my lectures have given me a
+name--and to you, my own love, I hope I may say that I know more than
+many of my elders, thanks to good schools, good method, a genuine love
+of my noble profession, and a tendency to study from my childhood. Will
+you not risk something on my ability? If not, God help me, for I shall
+lose you; and what is life, or fame, or wealth, or any mortal thing to
+me, without you? I cannot accept your father's decision; YOU must decide
+my fate.
+
+You see I have kept away from you until I can do so no more. All this
+time the world to me has seemed to want the sun, and my heart pines and
+sickens for one sight of you.
+
+Darling Rosa, pray let me look at your face once more.
+
+When this reaches you I shall be at your gate. Let me see you, though
+but for a moment, and let me hear my fate from no lips but yours.--My
+own love, your heart-broken lover,
+
+CHRISTOPHER STAINES.
+
+
+This letter stunned her at first. Her mind of late had been turned away
+from love to such stern realities. Now she began to be sorry she had not
+told him. “Poor thing!” she said to herself, “he little knows that now
+all is changed. Papa, I sometimes think, would deny me nothing now; it
+is I who would not marry him--to be buried by him in a month or two.
+Poor Christopher!”
+
+The next moment she started up in dismay. Why, her father would miss
+him. No; perhaps catch him waiting for her. What would he think? What
+would Christopher think?--that she had shown her papa his letter.
+
+She rang the bell hard. The footman came.
+
+“Send Harriet to me this instant. Oh, and ask papa to come to me.”
+
+Then she sat down and dashed off a line to Christopher. This was for
+Harriet to take out to him. Anything better than for Christopher to be
+caught doing what was wrong.
+
+The footman came back first. “If you please, miss, master has gone out.”
+
+“Run after him--the road to Gravesend.”
+
+“Yes, miss.”
+
+“No. It is no use. Never mind.”
+
+“Yes, miss.”
+
+Then Harriet came in. “Did you want me, miss?”
+
+“Yes. No--never mind now.”
+
+She was afraid to do anything for fear of making matters worse. She went
+to the window, and stood looking anxiously out, with her hands working.
+Presently she uttered a little scream and shrank away to the sofa. She
+sank down on it, half sitting, half lying, hid her face in her hands,
+and waited.
+
+
+Staines, with a lover's impatience, had been more than an hour at the
+gate, or walking up and down close by it, his heart now burning with
+hope, now freezing with fear, that she would decline a meeting on these
+terms.
+
+At last the postman came, and then he saw he was too soon; but now in
+a few minutes Rosa would have his letter, and then he should soon know
+whether she would come or not. He looked up at the drawing-room windows.
+They were full of light. She was there in all probability. Yet she did
+not come to them. But why should she, if she was coming out?
+
+He walked up and down the road. She did not come. His heart began to
+sicken with doubt. His head drooped; and perhaps it was owing to this
+that he almost ran against a gentleman who was coming the other way. The
+moon shone bright on both faces.
+
+“Dr. Staines!” said Mr. Lusignan surprised. Christopher uttered an
+ejaculation more eloquent than words.
+
+They stared at each other.
+
+“You were coming to call on us?”
+
+“N--no,” stammered Christopher.
+
+Lusignan thought that odd; however, he said politely, “No matter, it is
+fortunate. Would you mind coming in?”
+
+“No,” faltered Christopher, and stared at him ruefully, puzzled more and
+more, but beginning to think, after all, it might be a casual meeting.
+
+They entered the gate, and in one moment he saw Rosa at the window, and
+she saw him.
+
+Then he altered his opinion again. Rosa had sent her father out to him.
+But how was this? The old man did not seem angry. Christopher's heart
+gave a leap inside him, and he began to glow with the wildest hopes.
+For, what could this mean but relenting?
+
+Mr. Lusignan took him first into the study, and lighted two candles
+himself. He did not want the servants prying.
+
+The lights showed Christopher a change in Mr. Lusignan. He looked ten
+years older.
+
+“You are not well, sir,” said Christopher gently.
+
+“My health is well enough, but I am a broken-hearted man. Dr. Staines,
+forget all that passed here at your last visit. All that is over. Thank
+you for loving my poor girl as you do; give me your hand; God bless you.
+Sir, I am sorry to say it is as a physician I invite you now. She is
+ill, sir, very, very ill.”
+
+“Ill! and not tell me!”
+
+“She kept it from you, my poor friend, not to distress you; and she
+tried to keep it from me, but how could she? For two months she has
+had some terrible complaint--it is destroying her. She is the ghost of
+herself. Oh, my poor child! my child!”
+
+The old man sobbed aloud. The young man stood trembling, and ashy pale.
+Still, the habits of his profession, and the experience of dangers
+overcome, together with a certain sense of power, kept him up; but,
+above all, love and duty said, “Be firm.” He asked for an outline of the
+symptoms.
+
+They alarmed him greatly.
+
+“Let us lose no more time,” said he. “I will see her at once.”
+
+“Do you object to my being present?”
+
+“Of course not.”
+
+“Shall I tell you what Dr. Snell says it is, and Mr. Wyman?”
+
+“By all means--after I have seen her.”
+
+This comforted Mr. Lusignan. He was to get an independent judgment, at
+all events.
+
+When they reached the top of the stairs, Dr. Staines paused and leaned
+against the baluster. “Give me a moment,” said he. “The patient must not
+know how my heart is beating, and she must see nothing in my face but
+what I choose her to see. Give me your hand once more, sir; let us both
+control ourselves. Now announce me.”
+
+Mr. Lusignan opened the door, and said, with forced cheerfulness, “Dr.
+Staines, my dear, come to give you the benefit of his skill.”
+
+She lay on the sofa, just as we left her. Only her bosom began to heave.
+
+Then Christopher Staines drew himself up, and the majesty of knowledge
+and love together seemed to dilate his noble frame. He fixed his eye on
+that reclining, panting figure, and stepped lightly but firmly across
+the room to know the worst, like a lion walking up to levelled lances.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+The young physician walked steadily up to his patient without taking his
+eye off her, and drew a chair to her side.
+
+Then she took down one hand--the left--and gave it him, averting her
+face tenderly, and still covering it with her right; “For,” said she to
+herself, “I am such a fright now.” This opportune reflection, and her
+heaving bosom, proved that she at least felt herself something more
+than his patient. Her pretty consciousness made his task more difficult;
+nevertheless, he only allowed himself to press her hand tenderly with
+both his palms one moment, and then he entered on his functions bravely.
+“I am here as your physician.”
+
+“Very well,” said she softly.
+
+He gently detained the hand, and put his finger lightly to her pulse; it
+was palpitating, and a fallacious test. Oh, how that beating pulse, by
+love's electric current, set his own heart throbbing in a moment!
+
+He put her hand gently, reluctantly down, and said, “Oblige me by
+turning this way.” She turned, and he winced internally at the change in
+her; but his face betrayed nothing. He looked at her full; and, after
+a pause, put her some questions: one was as to the color of the
+hemorrhage. She said it was bright red.
+
+“Not a tinge of purple?”
+
+“No,” said she hopefully, mistaking him.
+
+He suppressed a sigh.
+
+Then he listened at her shoulder-blade and at her chest, and made her
+draw her breath while he was listening. The acts were simple, and usual
+in medicine, but there was a deep, patient, silent intensity about his
+way of doing them.
+
+Mr. Lusignan crept nearer, and stood with both hands on a table, and his
+old head bowed, awaiting yet dreading the verdict.
+
+Up to this time, Dr. Staines, instead of tapping and squeezing, and
+pulling the patient about, had never touched her with his hand, and only
+grazed her with his ear; but now he said “Allow me,” and put both hands
+to her waist, more lightly and reverently than I can describe; “Now draw
+a deep breath, if you please.”
+
+“There!”
+
+“If you could draw a deeper still,” said he, insinuatingly.
+
+“There, then!” said she, a little pettishly.
+
+Dr. Staines's eye kindled.
+
+“Hum!” said he. Then, after a considerable pause, “Are you better or
+worse after each hemorrhage?”
+
+“La!” said Rosa; “they never asked me that. Why, better.”
+
+“No faintness?”
+
+“Not a bit.”
+
+“Rather a sense of relief, perhaps?”
+
+“Yes; I feel lighter and better.”
+
+The examination was concluded.
+
+Dr. Staines looked at Rosa, and then at her father. The agony in that
+aged face, and the love that agony implied, won him, and it was to the
+parent he turned to give his verdict.
+
+“The hemorrhage is from the lungs”--
+
+Lusignan interrupted him: “From the lungs!” cried he, in dismay.
+
+“Yes; a slight congestion of the lungs.”
+
+“But not incurable! Oh, not incurable, doctor!”
+
+“Heaven forbid! It is curable--easily--by removing the cause.”
+
+“And what is the cause?”
+
+“The cause?”--he hesitated, and looked rather uneasy.--“Well, the cause,
+sir, is--tight stays.”
+
+The tranquillity of the meeting was instantly disturbed. “Tight stays!
+Me!” cried Rosa. “Why, I am the loosest girl in England. Look, papa!”
+ And, without any apparent effort, she drew herself in, and poked her
+little fist between her sash and her gown. “There!”
+
+Dr. Staines smiled sadly and a little sarcastically: he was evidently
+shy of encountering the lady in this argument; but he was more at his
+ease with her father; so he turned towards him and lectured him freely.
+
+“That is wonderful, sir; and the first four or five female patients
+that favored me with it, made me disbelieve my other senses; but Miss
+Lusignan is now about the thirtieth who has shown me that marvellous
+feat, with a calm countenance that belies the herculean effort. Nature
+has her every-day miracles: a boa-constrictor, diameter seventeen
+inches, can swallow a buffalo; a woman, with her stays bisecting her
+almost, and lacerating her skin, can yet for one moment make herself
+seem slack, to deceive a juvenile physician. The snake is the miracle of
+expansion; the woman is the prodigy of contraction.”
+
+“Highly grateful for the comparison!” cried Rosa. “Women and snakes!”
+
+Dr. Staines blushed and looked uncomfortable. “I did not mean to be
+offensive; it certainly was a very clumsy comparison.”
+
+“What does that matter?” said Mr. Lusignan, impatiently. “Be quiet,
+Rosa, and let Dr. Staines and me talk sense.”
+
+“Oh, then I am nobody in the business!” said this wise young lady.
+
+“You are everybody,” said Staines, soothingly. “But,” suggested he,
+obsequiously, “if you don't mind, I would rather explain my views to
+your father--on this one subject.”
+
+“And a pretty subject it is!”
+
+Dr. Staines then invited Mr. Lusignan to his lodgings, and promised to
+explain the matter anatomically. “Meantime,” said he, “would you be good
+enough to put your hands to my waist, as I did to the patient's.”
+
+Mr. Lusignan complied; and the patient began to titter directly, to put
+them out of countenance.
+
+“Please observe what takes place when I draw a full breath.
+
+“Now apply the same test to the patient. Breathe your best, please, Miss
+Lusignan.”
+
+The patient put on a face full of saucy mutiny.
+
+“To oblige us both.”
+
+“Oh, how tiresome!”
+
+“I am aware it is rather laborious,” said Staines, a little dryly; “but
+to oblige your father!”
+
+“Oh, anything to oblige papa,” said she, spitefully. “There! And I do
+hope it will be the last--la! no; I don't hope that, neither.”
+
+Dr. Staines politely ignored her little attempts to interrupt the
+argument. “You found, sir, that the muscles of my waist, and my
+intercostal ribs themselves, rose and fell with each inhalation and
+exhalation of air by the lungs.”
+
+“I did; but my daughter's waist was like dead wood, and so were her
+lower ribs.”
+
+At this volunteer statement, Rosa colored to her temples. “Thanks, papa!
+Pack me off to London, and sell me for a big doll!”
+
+“In other words,” said the lecturer, mild and pertinacious, “with us the
+lungs have room to blow, and the whole bony frame expands elastic
+with them, like the woodwork of a blacksmith's bellows; but with this
+patient, and many of her sex, that noble and divinely framed bellows is
+crippled and confined by a powerful machine of human construction; so it
+works lamely and feebly: consequently too little air, and of course too
+little oxygen, passes through that spongy organ whose very life is air.
+Now mark the special result in this case: being otherwise healthy and
+vigorous, our patient's system sends into the lungs more blood than that
+one crippled organ can deal with; a small quantity becomes extravasated
+at odd times; it accumulates, and would become dangerous; then Nature,
+strengthened by sleep, and by some hours' relief from the diabolical
+engine, makes an effort and flings it off: that is why the hemorrhage
+comes in the morning, and why she is the better for it, feeling neither
+faint nor sick, but relieved of a weight. This, sir, is the rationale of
+the complaint; and it is to you I must look for the cure. To judge from
+my other female patients, and from the few words Miss Lusignan has let
+fall, I fear we must not count on any very hearty co-operation from her:
+but you are her father, and have great authority; I conjure you to use
+it to the full, as you once used it--to my sorrow--in this very room.
+I am forgetting my character. I was asked here only as her physician.
+Good-evening.”
+
+He gave a little gulp, and hurried away, with an abruptness that touched
+the father and offended the sapient daughter.
+
+However, Mr. Lusignan followed him, and stopped him before he left the
+house, and thanked him warmly; and to his surprise, begged him to call
+again in a day or two.
+
+“Well, Rosa, what do you say?”
+
+“I say that I am very unfortunate in my doctors. Mr. Wyman is a
+chatterbox and knows nothing. Dr. Snell is Mr. Wyman's echo. Christopher
+is a genius, and they are always full of crotchets. A pretty doctor!
+Gone away, and not prescribed for me!”
+
+Mr. Lusignan admitted it was odd. “But, after all,” said he, “if
+medicine does you no good?”
+
+“Ah! but any medicine HE had prescribed would have done me good, and
+that makes it all the unkinder.”
+
+“If you think so highly of his skill, why not take his advice? It can do
+no harm.”
+
+“No harm? Why, if I was to leave them off I should catch a dreadful
+cold; and that would be sure to settle on my chest, and carry me off,
+in my present delicate state. Besides, it is so unfeminine not to wear
+them.”
+
+This staggered Mr. Lusignan, and he was afraid to press the point; but
+what Staines had said fermented in his mind.
+
+Dr. Snell and Mr. Wyman continued their visits and their prescriptions.
+
+The patient got a little worse.
+
+Mr. Lusignan hoped Christopher would call again, but he did not.
+
+When Dr. Staines had satisfied himself that the disorder was easily
+curable, then wounded pride found an entrance even into his loving
+heart. That two strangers should have been consulted before him! He was
+only sent for because they could not cure her.
+
+As he seemed in no hurry to repeat his visit, Mr. Lusignan called on
+him, and said, politely, he had hoped to receive another call ere this.
+“Personally,” said he, “I was much struck with your observations; but my
+daughter is afraid she will catch cold if she leaves off her corset, and
+that, you know, might be very serious.”
+
+Dr. Staines groaned, and, when he had groaned, he lectured. “Female
+patients are wonderfully monotonous in this matter; they have a
+programme of evasions; and whether the patient is a lady or a housemaid,
+she seldom varies from that programme. You find her breathing life's air
+with half a bellows, and you tell her so. 'Oh, no,' says she; and does
+the gigantic feat of contraction we witnessed that evening at your
+house. But, on inquiry, you learn there is a raw red line ploughed
+in her flesh by the cruel stays. 'What is that?' you ask, and flatter
+yourself you have pinned her. Not a bit. 'That was the last pair. I
+changed them, because they hurt me.' Driven out of that by proofs of
+recent laceration, they say, 'If I leave them off I should catch my
+death of cold,' which is equivalent to saying there is no flannel in the
+shops, no common sense nor needles at home.”
+
+He then laid before him some large French plates, showing the organs
+of the human trunk, and bade him observe in how small a space, and with
+what skill, the Creator has packed so many large yet delicate organs,
+so that they should be free and secure from friction, though so close to
+each other. He showed him the liver, an organ weighing four pounds, and
+of large circumference; the lungs, a very large organ, suspended in the
+chest and impatient of pressure; the heart, the stomach, the spleen, all
+of them too closely and artfully packed to bear any further compression.
+
+Having thus taken him by the eye, he took him by the mind.
+
+“Is it a small thing for the creature to say to her Creator, 'I can pack
+all this egg-china better than you can,' and thereupon to jam all
+those vital organs close, by a powerful, a very powerful and ingenious
+machine? Is it a small thing for that sex, which, for good reasons, the
+Omniscient has made larger in the waist than the male, to say to her
+Creator, 'You don't know your business; women ought to be smaller in the
+waist than men, and shall be throughout the civilized world'?”
+
+In short, he delivered so many true and pointed things on this trite
+subject, that the old gentleman was convinced, and begged him to come
+over that very evening and convince Rosa.
+
+Dr. Staines shook his head dolefully, and all his fire died out of him
+at having to face the fair. “Reason will be wasted. Authority is the
+only weapon. My profession and my reading have both taught me that
+the whole character of her sex undergoes a change the moment a man
+interferes with their dress. From Chaucer's day to our own, neither
+public satire nor private remonstrance has ever shaken any of their
+monstrous fashions. Easy, obliging, pliable, and weaker of will than men
+in other things, do but touch their dress, however objectionable, and
+rock is not harder, iron is not more stubborn, than these soft and
+yielding creatures. It is no earthly use my coming--I'll come.”
+
+He came that very evening, and saw directly she was worse. “Of course,”
+ said he, sadly, “you have not taken my advice.”
+
+Rosa replied with a toss and an evasion, “I was not worth a
+prescription!”
+
+“A physician can prescribe without sending his patient to the druggist;
+and when he does, then it is his words are gold.”
+
+Rosa shook her head with an air of lofty incredulity.
+
+He looked ruefully at Mr. Lusignan and was silent. Rosa smiled
+sarcastically; she thought he was at his wit's end.
+
+Not quite: he was cudgelling his brains in search of some horribly
+unscientific argument, that might prevail; for he felt science would
+fall dead upon so fair an antagonist. At last his eye kindled; he had
+hit on an argument unscientific enough for anybody, he thought. Said he,
+ingratiatingly, “You believe the Old Testament?”
+
+“Of course I do, every syllable.”
+
+“And the lessons it teaches?”
+
+“Certainly!”
+
+“Then let me tell you a story from that book. A Syrian general had a
+terrible disease. He consulted Elisha by deputy. Elisha said, 'Bathe
+seven times in a certain river, Jordan, and you will get well.' The
+general did not like this at all; he wanted a prescription; wanted to
+go to the druggist; didn't believe in hydropathy to begin, and, in any
+case, turned up his nose at Jordan. What! bathe in an Israelitish
+brook, when his own country boasted noble rivers, with a reputation for
+sanctity into the bargain? In short, he preferred his leprosy to such
+irregular medicine. But it happened, by some immense fortuity, that
+one of his servants, though an Oriental, was a friend, instead of a
+flatterer; and this sensible fellow said, 'If the prophet told you to do
+some great and difficult thing, to get rid of this fearful malady, would
+not you do it, however distasteful? and can you hesitate when he merely
+says, Wash in the Jordan, and be healed?' The general listened to
+good sense, and cured himself. Your case is parallel. You would take
+quantities of foul medicine; you would submit to some painful operation,
+if life and health depended on it; then why not do a small thing for
+a great result? You have only to take off an unnatural machine which
+cripples your growing frame, and was unknown to every one of the
+women whose forms in Parian marble the world admires. Off with that
+monstrosity, and your cure is as certain as the Syrian general's; though
+science, and not inspiration, dictates the easy remedy.”
+
+Rosa had listened impatiently, and now replied with some warmth, “This
+is shockingly profane. The idea of comparing yourself to Elisha, and me
+to a horrid leper! Much obliged! Not that I know what a leper is.”
+
+“Come, come! that is not fair,” said Mr. Lusignan. “He only compared the
+situation, not the people.”
+
+“But, papa, the Bible is not to be dragged into the common affairs of
+life.”
+
+“Then what on earth is the use of it?”
+
+“Oh, papa! Well, it is not Sunday, but I have had a sermon. This is the
+clergyman, and you are the commentator--he! he! And so now let us go
+back from divinity to medicine. I repeat” (this was the first time she
+had said it) “that my other doctors give me real prescriptions, written
+in hieroglyphics. You can't look at them without feeling there MUST be
+something in them.”
+
+An angry spot rose on Christopher's cheek, but he only said, “And are
+your other doctors satisfied with the progress your disorder is making
+under their superintendence?”
+
+“Perfectly! Papa, tell him what they say, and I'll find him their
+prescriptions.” She went to a drawer, and rummaged, affecting not to
+listen.
+
+Lusignan complied. “First of all, sir, I must tell you they are
+confident it is not the lungs, but the liver.”
+
+“The what!” shouted Christopher.
+
+“Ah!” screamed Rosa. “Oh, don't!--bawling!”
+
+“And don't you screech,” said her father, with a look of misery and
+apprehension impartially distributed on the resounding pair.
+
+“You must have misunderstood them,” murmured Staines, in a voice that
+was now barely audible a yard off. “The hemorrhage of a bright red
+color, and expelled without effort or nausea?”
+
+“From the liver--they have assured me again and again,” said Lusignan.
+
+Christopher's face still wore a look of blank amazement, till Rosa
+herself confirmed it positively.
+
+Then he cast a look of agony upon her, and started up in a passion,
+forgetting once more that his host abhorred the sonorous. “Oh, shame!
+shame!” he cried, “that the noble profession of medicine should be
+disgraced by ignorance such as this.” Then he said, sternly, “Sir, do
+not mistake my motives; but I decline to have anything further to do
+with this case, until those two gentlemen have been relieved of it; and,
+as this is very harsh, and on my part unprecedented, I will give you
+one reason out of many I COULD give you. Sir, there is no road from the
+liver to the throat by which blood can travel in this way, defying
+the laws of gravity; and they knew, from the patient, that no strong
+expellent force has ever been in operation. Their diagnosis, therefore,
+implies agnosis, or ignorance too great to be forgiven. I will not share
+my patient with two gentlemen who know so little of medicine, and know
+nothing of anatomy, which is the A B C of medicine. Can I see their
+prescriptions?”
+
+These were handed to him. “Good heavens!” said he, “have you taken all
+these?”
+
+“Most of them.”
+
+“Why, then you have drunk about two gallons of unwholesome liquids,
+and eaten a pound or two of unwholesome solids. These medicines have
+co-operated with the malady. The disorder lies, not in the hemorrhage,
+but in the precedent extravasation that is a drain on the system; and
+how is the loss to be supplied? Why, by taking a little more nourishment
+than before; there is no other way; and probably Nature, left to
+herself, might have increased your appetite to meet the occasion. But
+those two worthies have struck that weapon out of Nature's hand; they
+have peppered away at the poor ill-used stomach with drugs and draughts,
+not very deleterious I grant you, but all more or less indigestible, and
+all tending, not to whet the appetite, but to clog the stomach, or turn
+the stomach, or pester the stomach, and so impair the appetite, and so
+co-operate, indirectly, with the malady.”
+
+“This is good sense,” said Lusignan. “I declare, I--I wish I knew how to
+get rid of them.”
+
+“Oh, I'll do that, papa.”
+
+“No, no; it is not worth a rumpus.”
+
+“I'll do it too politely for that. Christopher, you are very
+clever--TERRIBLY clever. Whenever I threw their medicines away, I was
+always a little better that day. I will sacrifice them to you. It IS
+a sacrifice. They are both so kind and chatty, and don't grudge me
+hieroglyphics; now you do.”
+
+She sat down and wrote two sweet letters to Dr. Snell and Mr. Wyman,
+thanking them for the great attention they had paid her; but finding
+herself getting steadily worse, in spite of all they had done for her,
+she proposed to discontinue her medicines for a time, and try change of
+air.
+
+“And suppose they call to see whether you are changing the air?”
+
+“In that case, papa--'not at home.'”
+
+The notes were addressed and despatched.
+
+Then Dr. Staines brightened up, and said to Lusignan, “I am now happy to
+tell you that I have overrated the malady. The sad change I see in Miss
+Lusignan is partly due to the great bulk of unwholesome esculents
+she has been eating and drinking under the head of medicines. These
+discontinued, she might linger on for years, existing, though not
+living--the tight-laced cannot be said to live. But if she would be
+healthy and happy, let her throw that diabolical machine into the
+fire. It is no use asking her to loosen it; she can't. Once there, the
+temptation is too strong. Off with it, and, take my word, you will be
+one of the healthiest and most vigorous young ladies in Europe.”
+
+Rosa looked rueful, and almost sullen. She said she had parted with her
+doctors for him, but she really could not go about without stays. “They
+are as loose as they can be. See!”
+
+“That part of the programme is disposed of,” said Christopher. “Please
+go on to No. 2. How about the raw red line where the loose machine has
+sawed you?”
+
+“What red line? No such thing! Somebody or other has been peeping in at
+my window. I'll have the ivy cut down to-morrow.”
+
+“Simpleton!” said Mr. Lusignan, angrily. “You have let the cat out of
+the bag. There is such a mark, then, and this extraordinary young man
+has discerned it with the eye of science.”
+
+“He never discerned it at all,” said Rosa, red as fire; “and, what is
+more, he never will.”
+
+“I don't want to. I should be very sorry to. I hope it will be gone in a
+week.”
+
+“I wish YOU were gone now--exposing me in this cruel way,” said Rosa,
+angry with herself for having said an idiotic thing, and furious with
+him for having made her say it.
+
+“Oh, Rosa!” said Christopher, in a voice of tenderest reproach.
+
+But Mr. Lusignan interfered promptly. “Rosa, no noise. I will not have
+you snapping at your best friend and mine. If you are excited, you had
+better retire to your own room and compose yourself. I hate a clamor.”
+
+Rosa made a wry face at this rebuke, and then began to cry quietly.
+
+Every tear was like a drop of blood from Christopher's heart. “Pray
+don't scold her, sir,” said he, ready to snivel himself. “She meant
+nothing unkind: it is only her pretty sprightly way; and she did not
+really imagine a love so reverent as mine”--
+
+“Don't YOU interfere between my father and me,” said this reasonable
+young lady, now in an ungovernable state of feminine irritability.
+
+“No, Rosa,” said Christopher, humbly. “Mr. Lusignan,” said he, “I hope
+you will tell her that, from the very first, I was unwilling to enter on
+this subject with HER. Neither she nor I can forget my double character.
+I have not said half as much to her as I ought, being her physician; and
+yet you see I have said more than she can bear from me, who, she knows,
+love her and revere her. Then, once for all, do pray let me put this
+delicate matter into your hands: it is a case for parental authority.”
+
+“Unfatherly tyranny, that means,” said Rosa. “What business have
+gentlemen interfering in such things? It is unheard of. I will not
+submit to it, even from papa.”
+
+“Well, you need not scream at me,” said Mr. Lusignan; and he shrugged
+his shoulders to Staines. “She is impracticable, you see. If I do my
+duty, there will be a disturbance.”
+
+Now this roused the bile of Dr. Staines. “What, sir!” said he, “you
+could separate her and me by your authority, here in this very room; and
+yet, when her life is at stake, you abdicate! You could part her from a
+man who loved her with every drop of his heart,--and she said she loved
+him, or, at all events, preferred him to others,--and you cannot part
+her from a miserable corset, although you see in her poor wasted face
+that it is carrying her to the churchyard. In that case, sir, there is
+but one thing for you to do,--withdraw your opposition and let me
+marry her. As her lover I am powerless; but invest me with a husband's
+authority, and you will soon see the roses return to her cheek, and
+her elastic figure expanding, and her eye beaming with health and the
+happiness that comes of perfect health.”
+
+Mr. Lusignan made an answer neither of his hearers expected. He said,
+“I have a great mind to take you at your word. I am too old and fond of
+quiet to drive a Simpleton in single harness.”
+
+This contemptuous speech, and, above all, the word Simpleton, which had
+been applied to her pretty freely by young ladies at school, and always
+galled her terribly, inflicted so intolerable a wound on Rosa's vanity,
+that she was ready to burst: on that, of course, her stays contributed
+their mite of physical uneasiness. Thus irritated mind and body, she
+burned to strike in return; and as she could not slap her father in the
+presence of another, she gave it Christopher back-handed.
+
+“You can turn me out of doors,” said she, “if you are tired of your
+daughter, but I am not such a SIMPLETON as to marry a tyrant. No; he has
+shown the cloven foot in time. A husband's AUTHORITY, indeed!” Then she
+turned her hand, and gave it him direct. “You told me a different
+story when you were paying your court to me; then you were to be my
+servant,--all hypocritical sweetness. You had better go and marry a
+Circassian slave. They don't wear stays, and they do wear trousers; so
+she will be unfeminine enough, even for you. No English lady would
+let her husband dictate to her about such a thing. I can have as many
+husbands as I like, without falling into the clutches of a tyrant. You
+are a rude, indelicate--And so please understand it is all over between
+you and me.”
+
+Both her auditors stood aghast, for she uttered this conclusion with a
+dignity of which the opening gave no promise, and the occasion, weighed
+in masculine balances, was not worthy.
+
+“You do not mean that. You cannot mean it,” said Dr. Staines, aghast.
+
+“I do mean it,” said she, firmly; “and, if you are a gentleman, you will
+not compel me to say it twice--three times, I mean.”
+
+At this dagger-stroke Christopher turned very pale, but he maintained
+his dignity. “I am a gentleman,” said he, quietly, “and a very
+unfortunate one. Good-by, sir; thank you kindly. Good-by, Rosa; God
+bless you! Oh, pray take a thought! Remember, your life and death are in
+your own hand now. I am powerless.”
+
+And he left the house in sorrow, and just, but not pettish, indignation.
+
+When he was gone, father and daughter looked at each other, and there
+was the silence that succeeds a storm.
+
+Rosa, feeling the most uneasy, was the first to express her
+satisfaction. “There, HE is gone, and I am glad of it. Now you and I
+shall never quarrel again. I was quite right. Such impertinence! Such
+indelicacy! A fine prospect for me if I had married such a man! However,
+he is gone, and so there's an end of it. The idea! telling a young lady,
+before her father, she is tight-laced! If you had not been there I could
+have forgiven him. But I am not; it is a story. Now,” suddenly exalting
+her voice, “I know you believe him.”
+
+“I say nothing,” whispered papa, hoping to still her by example. This
+ruse did not succeed.
+
+“But you look volumes,” cried she: “and I can't bear it. I won't bear
+it. If you don't believe ME, ask my MAID.” And with this felicitous
+speech, she rang the bell.
+
+“You'll break the wire if you don't mind,” suggested her father,
+piteously.
+
+“All the better! Why should not wires be broken as well as my heart? Oh,
+here she is! Now, Harriet, come here.”
+
+“Yes, miss.”
+
+“And tell the truth. AM I tight-laced?”
+
+Harriet looked in her face a moment to see what was required of her, and
+then said, “That you are not, miss. I never dressed a young lady as wore
+'em easier than you do.”
+
+“There, papa! That will do, Harriet.”
+
+Harriet retired as far as the keyhole; she saw something was up.
+
+“Now,” said Rosa, “you see I was right; and, after all, it was a match
+you did not approve. Well, it is all over, and now you may write to your
+favorite, Colonel Bright. If he comes here, I'll box his old ears. I
+hate him. I hate them all. Forgive your wayward girl. I'll stay with
+you all my days. I dare say that will not be long, now I have quarrelled
+with my guardian angel; and all for what? Papa! papa! how CAN you sit
+there and not speak me one word of comfort? 'SIMPLETON?' Ah! that I am
+to throw away a love a queen is scarcely worthy of; and all for what?
+Really, if it wasn't for the ingratitude and wickedness of the thing, it
+is too laughable. Ha! ha!--oh! oh! oh!--ha! ha! ha!”
+
+And off she went into hysterics, and began to gulp and choke
+frightfully.
+
+Her father cried for help in dismay. In ran Harriet, saw, and screamed,
+but did not lose her head; this veracious person whipped a pair of
+scissors off the table, and cut the young lady's stay-laces directly.
+Then there was a burst of imprisoned beauty; a deep, deep sigh of relief
+came from a bosom that would have done honor to Diana; and the scene
+soon concluded with fits of harmless weeping, renewed at intervals.
+
+When it had settled down to this, her father, to soothe her, said he
+would write to Dr. Staines, and bring about a reconciliation, if she
+liked.
+
+“No,” said she, “you shall kill me sooner. I should die of shame.”
+
+She added, “Oh, pray, from this hour, never mention his name to me.”
+
+And then she had another cry.
+
+Mr. Lusignan was a sensible man: he dropped the subject for the present;
+but he made up his mind to one thing--that he would never part with Dr.
+Staines as a physician.
+
+Next day Rosa kept her own room until dinner-time, and was as unhappy
+as she deserved to be. She spent her time in sewing on stiff flannel
+linings and crying. She half hoped Christopher would write to her, so
+that she might write back that she forgave him. But not a line.
+
+At half-past six her volatile mind took a turn, real or affected. She
+would cry no more for an ungrateful fellow,--ungrateful for not seeing
+through the stone walls how she had been employed all the morning; and
+making it up. So she bathed her red eyes, made a great alteration in her
+dress, and came dancing into the room humming an Italian ditty.
+
+As they were sitting together in the dining-room after dinner, two
+letters came by the same post to Mr. Lusignan from Mr. Wyman and Dr.
+Snell.
+
+Mr. Wyman's letter:--
+
+
+DEAR SIR,--I am sorry to hear from Miss Lusignan that she intends to
+discontinue medical advice. The disorder was progressing favorably, and
+nothing to be feared, under proper treatment.
+
+Yours, etc.
+
+
+Dr. Snell's letter:--
+
+
+DEAR SIR,--Miss Lusignan has written to me somewhat impatiently and
+seems disposed to dispense with my visits. I do not, however, think it
+right to withdraw without telling you candidly that this is an unwise
+step. Your daughter's health is in a very precarious condition.
+
+Yours, etc.
+
+
+Rosa burst out laughing. “I have nothing to fear, and I'm on the brink
+of the grave. That comes of writing without a consultation. If they
+had written at one table, I should have been neither well nor ill. Poor
+Christopher!” and her sweet face began to work piteously.
+
+“There! there! drink a glass of wine.”
+
+She did, and a tear with it, that ran into the glass like lightning.
+
+Warned by this that grief sat very near the bright, hilarious surface,
+Mr. Lusignan avoided all emotional subjects for the present. Next day,
+however, he told her she might dismiss her lover, but no power should
+make him dismiss his pet physician, unless her health improved.
+
+“I will not give you that excuse for inflicting him on me again,” said
+the young hypocrite.
+
+She kept her word. She got better and better, stronger, brighter, gayer.
+
+She took to walking every day, and increasing the distance, till she
+could walk ten miles without fatigue.
+
+Her favorite walk was to a certain cliff that commanded a noble view of
+the sea. To get to it she must pass through the town of Gravesend; and
+we may be sure she did not pass so often through that city without some
+idea of meeting the lover she had used so ill, and eliciting an APOLOGY
+from him. Sly puss!
+
+When she had walked twenty times, or thereabouts, through the town, and
+never seen him, she began to fear she had offended him past hope. Then
+she used to cry at the end of every walk.
+
+But by and by bodily health, vanity, and temper combined to rouse the
+defiant spirit. Said she, “If he really loved me, he would not take my
+word in such a hurry. And besides, why does he not watch me, and find
+out what I am doing, and where I walk?”
+
+At last she really began to persuade herself that she was an ill-used
+and slighted girl. She was very angry at times, and disconsolate at
+others; a mixed state in which hasty and impulsive young ladies commit
+lifelong follies.
+
+Mr. Lusignan observed the surface only: he saw his invalid daughter
+getting better every day, till at last she became a picture of health
+and bodily vigor. Relieved of his fears, he troubled his head but little
+about Christopher Staines. Yet he esteemed him, and had got to like
+him; but Rosa was a beauty, and could do better than marry a struggling
+physician, however able. He launched out into a little gayety, resumed
+his quiet dinner-parties; and, after some persuasion, took his now
+blooming daughter to a ball given by the officers of Chatham.
+
+She was the belle of the ball beyond dispute, and danced with ethereal
+grace and athletic endurance. She was madly fond of waltzing, and here
+she encountered what she was pleased to call a divine dancer. It was
+a Mr. Reginald Falcon, a gentleman who had retired to the seaside to
+recruit his health and finances sore tried by London and Paris. Falcon
+had run through his fortune, but had acquired, in the process, certain
+talents which, as they cost the acquirer dear, so they sometimes repay
+him, especially if he is not overburdened with principle, and adopts the
+notion that, the world having plucked him, he has a right to pluck the
+world. He could play billiards well, but never so well as when backing
+himself for a heavy stake. He could shoot pigeons well, and his shooting
+improved under that which makes some marksmen miss--a heavy bet against
+the gun. He danced to perfection; and being a well-bred, experienced,
+brazen, adroit fellow, who knew a little of everything that was going,
+he had always plenty to say. Above all, he had made a particular study
+of the fair sex; had met with many successes, many rebuffs; and, at
+last, by keen study of their minds, and a habit he had acquired of
+watching their faces, and shifting his helm accordingly, had learned
+the great art of pleasing them. They admired his face; to me, the
+short space between his eyes and his hair, his aquiline nose, and thin
+straight lips, suggested the bird of prey a little too much: but to
+fair doves, born to be clutched, this similitude perhaps was not very
+alarming, even if they observed it.
+
+Rosa danced several times with him, and told him he danced like an
+angel. He informed her that was because, for once, he was dancing with
+an angel. She laughed and blushed. He flattered deliciously, and it cost
+him little; for he fell in love with her that night, deeper than he had
+ever been in his whole life of intrigue. He asked leave to call on
+her: she looked a little shy at that, and did not respond. He instantly
+withdrew his proposal, with an apology and a sigh that raised her pity.
+However, she was not a forward girl, even when excited by dancing and
+charmed with her partner; so she left him to find his own way out of
+that difficulty.
+
+He was not long about it. At the end of the next waltz he asked her if
+he might venture to solicit an introduction to her father.
+
+“Oh, certainly,” said she. “What a selfish girl I am! this is terribly
+dull for him.”
+
+The introduction being made, and Rosa being engaged for the next three
+dances, Mr. Falcon sat by Mr. Lusignan and entertained him. For this
+little piece of apparent self-denial he was paid in various coin:
+Lusignan found out he was the son of an old acquaintance, and so the
+door of Kent Villa opened to him; meantime, Rosa Lusignan never passed
+him, even in the arms of a cavalry officer, without bestowing a glance
+of approval and gratitude on him. “What a good-hearted young man!”
+ thought she. “How kind of him to amuse papa; and now I can stay so much
+longer.”
+
+Falcon followed up the dance by a call, and was infinitely agreeable:
+followed up the call by another, and admired Rosa with so little
+disguise that Mr. Lusignan said to her, “I think you have made a
+conquest. His father had considerable estates in Essex. I presume he
+inherits them.”
+
+“Oh, never mind his estates,” said Rosa, “he dances like an angel, and
+gossips charmingly, and IS so nice.”
+
+Christopher Staines pined for this girl in silence: his fine frame got
+thinner, his pale cheek paler, as she got rosier and rosier; and how?
+Why, by following the very advice she had snubbed him for giving her. At
+last, he heard she had been the belle of a ball, and that she had been
+seen walking miles from home, and blooming as a Hebe. Then his deep
+anxiety ceased, his pride stung him furiously; he began to think of his
+own value, and to struggle with all his might against his deep love.
+Sometimes he would even inveigh against her, and call her a fickle,
+ungrateful girl, capable of no strong passion but vanity. Many a hard
+term he applied to her in his sorrowful solitude; but not a word when he
+had a hearer. He found it hard to rest: he kept dashing up to London and
+back. He plunged furiously into study. He groaned and sighed, and fought
+the hard and bitter fight that is too often the lot of the deep that
+love the shallow. Strong, but single-hearted, no other lady could
+comfort him. He turned from female company, and shunned all for the
+fault of one.
+
+The inward contest wore him. He began to look very thin and wan; and all
+for a Simpleton!
+
+Mr. Falcon prolonged his stay in the neighborhood, and drove a handsome
+dogcart over twice a week to visit Mr. Lusignan.
+
+He used to call on that gentleman at four o'clock, for at that hour Mr.
+Lusignan was always out, and his daughter always at home.
+
+She was at home at that hour because she took her long walks in the
+morning. While her new admirer was in bed, or dressing, or breakfasting,
+she was springing along the road with all the elasticity of youth, and
+health, and native vigor, braced by daily exercise.
+
+Twenty-one of these walks did she take, with no other result than health
+and appetite; but the twenty-second was more fertile--extremely fertile.
+Starting later than usual, she passed through Gravesend while Reginald
+Falcon was smoking at his front window. He saw her, and instantly doffed
+his dressing-gown and donned his coat to follow her. He was madly in
+love with her, and being a man who had learned to shoot pigeons and
+opportunities flying, he instantly resolved to join her in her walk, get
+her clear of the town, by the sea-beach, where beauty melts, and propose
+to her. Yes, marriage had not been hitherto his habit, but this girl was
+peerless: he was pledged by honor and gratitude to Phoebe Dale; but hang
+all that now. “No man should marry one woman when he loves another; it
+is dishonorable.” He got into the street and followed her as fast as he
+could without running.
+
+It was not so easy to catch her. Ladies are not built for running; but
+a fine, tall, symmetrical girl who has practised walking fast can cover
+the ground wonderfully in walking--if she chooses. It was a sight to see
+how Rosa Lusignan squared her shoulders and stepped out from the
+waist like a Canadian girl skating, while her elastic foot slapped the
+pavement as she spanked along.
+
+She had nearly cleared the town before Falcon came up with her.
+
+He was hardly ten yards from her when an unexpected incident occurred.
+She whisked round the corner of Bird Street, and ran plump against
+Christopher Staines; in fact, she darted into his arms, and her face
+almost touched the breast she had wounded so deeply.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Rosa cried “Oh!” and put up her hands to her face in lovely confusion,
+coloring like a peony.
+
+“I beg your pardon,” said Christopher, stiffly, but in a voice that
+trembled.
+
+“No,” said Rosa, “it was I ran against you. I walk so fast now. Hope I
+did not hurt you.”
+
+“Hurt me?”
+
+“Well, then, frighten you?”
+
+No answer.
+
+“Oh, please don't quarrel with me in the STREET,” said Rosa, cunningly
+implying that he was the quarrelsome one. “I am going on the beach.
+Good-by!” This adieu she uttered softly, and in a hesitating tone that
+belied it. She started off, however, but much more slowly than she was
+going before; and, as she went, she turned her head with infinite grace,
+and kept looking askant down at the pavement two yards behind her:
+moreover she went close to the wall, and left room at her side for
+another to walk.
+
+Christopher hesitated a moment; but the mute invitation, so arch yet
+timid, so pretty, tender, sly, and womanly, was too much for him, as it
+has generally proved for males, and the philosopher's foot was soon
+in the very place to which the Simpleton with the mere tail of her eye
+directed it.
+
+They walked along, side by side, in silence, Staines agitated, gloomy,
+confused, Rosa radiant and glowing, yet not knowing what to say for
+herself, and wanting Christopher to begin. So they walked along without
+a word.
+
+Falcon followed them at some distance to see whether it was an admirer
+or only an acquaintance. A lover he never dreamed of; she had shown such
+evident pleasure in his company, and had received his visits alone so
+constantly.
+
+However, when the pair had got to the beach, and were walking slower and
+slower, he felt a pang of rage and jealousy, turned on his heel with an
+audible curse, and found Phoebe Dale a few yards behind him with a white
+face and a peculiar look. He knew what the look meant; he had brought it
+to that faithful face before to-day.
+
+
+“You are better, Miss Lusignan.”
+
+“Better, Dr. Staines? I am health itself thanks to--hem!”
+
+“Our estrangement has agreed with you?” This very bitterly.
+
+“You know very well it is not that. Oh, please don't make me cry in the
+streets.”
+
+This humble petition, or rather meek threat, led to another long
+silence. It was continued till they had nearly reached the shore.
+But, meantime, Rosa's furtive eyes scanned Christopher's face, and her
+conscience smote her at the signs of suffering. She felt a desire to
+beg his pardon with deep humility; but she suppressed that weakness. She
+hung her head with a pretty, sheepish air, and asked him if he could not
+think of something agreeable to say to one after deserting one so long.
+
+“I am afraid not,” said Christopher, bluntly. “I have an awkward habit
+of speaking the truth; and some people can't bear that, not even when it
+is spoken for their good.”
+
+“That depends on temper, and nerves, and things,” said Rosa,
+deprecatingly; then softly, “I could bear anything from you now.”
+
+“Indeed!” said Christopher, grimly. “Well, then, I hear you had no
+sooner got rid of your old lover, for loving you too well and telling
+you the truth, than you took up another,--some flimsy man of fashion,
+who will tell you any lie you like.”
+
+“It is a story, a wicked story,” cried Rosa, thoroughly alarmed. “Me, a
+lover! He dances like an angel; I can't help that.”
+
+“Are his visits at your house like angels'--few and far between?” And
+the true lover's brow lowered black upon her for the first time.
+
+Rosa changed color, and her eyes fell a moment. “Ask papa,” she said.
+“His father was an old friend of papa's.”
+
+“Rosa, you are prevaricating. Young men do not call on old gentlemen
+when there is an attractive young lady in the house.”
+
+The argument was getting too close; so Rosa operated a diversion. “So,”
+ said she, with a sudden air of lofty disdain, swiftly and adroitly
+assumed, “you have had me watched?”
+
+“Not I; I only hear what people say.”
+
+“Listen to gossip and not have me watched! That shows how little you
+really cared for me. Well, if you had, you would have made a little
+discovery, that is all.”
+
+“Should I?” said Christopher, puzzled. “What?”
+
+“I shall not tell you. Think what you please. Yes, sir, you would have
+found out that I take long walks every day, all alone; and what is
+more, that I walk through Gravesend, hoping--like a goose--that somebody
+really loved me, and would meet me, and beg my pardon; and if he had, I
+should have told him it was only my tongue, and my nerves, and things;
+my heart was his, and my gratitude. And after all, what do words
+signify, when I am a good, obedient girl at bottom? So that is what
+you have lost by not condescending to look after me. Fine
+love!--Christopher, beg my pardon.”
+
+“May I inquire for what?”
+
+“Why, for not understanding me; for not knowing that I should be sorry
+the moment you were gone. I took them off the very next day, to please
+you.”
+
+“Took off whom?--Oh, I understand. You did? Then you ARE a good girl.”
+
+“Didn't I tell you I was? A good, obedient girl, and anything but a
+flirt.”
+
+“I don't say that.”
+
+“But I do. Don't interrupt. It is to your good advice I owe my health;
+and to love anybody but you, when I owe you my love and my life, I must
+be a heartless, ungrateful, worthless--Oh, Christopher, forgive me! No,
+no; I mean, beg my pardon.”
+
+“I'll do both,” said Christopher, taking her in his arms. “I beg your
+pardon, and I forgive you.”
+
+Rosa leaned her head tenderly on his shoulder, and began to sigh. “Oh,
+dear, dear! I am a wicked, foolish girl, not fit to walk alone.”
+
+On this admission, Christopher spoke out, and urged her to put an end to
+all these unhappy misunderstandings, and to his new torment, jealousy,
+by marrying him.
+
+“And so I would this very minute, if papa would consent. But,” said she,
+slyly, “you never can be so foolish to wish it. What! a wise man like
+you marry a simpleton!”
+
+“Did I ever call you that?” asked Christopher, reproachfully.
+
+“No, dear; but you are the only one who has not; and perhaps I should
+lose even the one, if you were to marry me. Oh, husbands are not so
+polite as lovers! I have observed that, simpleton or not.”
+
+Christopher assured her that he took quite a different view of her
+character; he believed her to be too profound for shallow people to read
+all in a moment: he even intimated that he himself had experienced no
+little difficulty in understanding her at odd times. “And so,” said he,
+“they turn round upon you, and instead of saying, 'We are too shallow to
+fathom you,' they pretend you are a simpleton.”
+
+This solution of the mystery had never occurred to Rosa, nor indeed
+was it likely to occur to any creature less ingenious than a lover: it
+pleased her hugely; her fine eyes sparkled, and she nestled closer still
+to the strong arm that was to parry every ill, from mortal disease to
+galling epithets.
+
+She listened with a willing ear to all his reasons, his hopes, his
+fears, and, when they reached her father's door, it was settled that
+he should dine there that day, and urge his suit to her father after
+dinner. She would implore the old gentleman to listen to it favorably.
+
+The lovers parted, and Christopher went home like one who has awakened
+from a hideous dream to daylight and happiness.
+
+He had not gone far before he met a dashing dogcart, driven by an
+exquisite. He turned to look after it, and saw it drive up to Kent
+Villa.
+
+In a moment he divined his rival, and a sickness of heart came over him.
+But he recovered himself directly, and said, “If that is the fellow, she
+will not receive him now.”
+
+She did receive him though: at all events, the dogcart stood at the
+door, and its master remained inside.
+
+Christopher stood, and counted the minutes: five, ten, fifteen, twenty
+minutes, and still the dogcart stood there.
+
+It was more than he could bear. He turned savagely, and strode back to
+Gravesend, resolving that all this torture should end that night, one
+way or other.
+
+
+Phoebe Dale was the daughter of a farmer in Essex, and one of the
+happiest young women in England till she knew Reginald Falcon, Esq.
+
+She was reared on wholesome food, in wholesome air, and used to churn
+butter, make bread, cook a bit now and then, cut out and sew all her
+own dresses, get up her own linen, make hay, ride anything on four legs;
+and, for all that, was a great reader, and taught in the Sunday school
+to oblige the vicar; wrote a neat hand, and was a good arithmetician,
+kept all the house accounts and farm accounts. She was a musician,
+too,--not profound, but very correct. She would take her turn at the
+harmonium in church, and, when she was there, you never heard a wrong
+note in the bass, nor an inappropriate flourish, nor bad time. She could
+sing, too, but never would, except her part in a psalm. Her voice was
+a deep contralto, and she chose to be ashamed of this heavenly organ,
+because a pack of envious girls had giggled, and said it was like a
+man's.
+
+In short, her natural ability and the range and variety of her useful
+accomplishments were considerable; not that she was a prodigy; but she
+belonged to a small class of women in this island who are not too high
+to use their arms, nor too low to cultivate their minds; and, having a
+faculty and a habit deplorably rare amongst her sex, viz., Attention,
+she had profited by her miscellaneous advantages.
+
+Her figure and face both told her breed at once: here was an old English
+pastoral beauty; not the round-backed, narrow-chested cottager, but the
+well-fed, erect rustic, with broad, full bust and massive shoulder, and
+arm as hard as a rock with health and constant use; a hand finely cut,
+though neither small nor very white, and just a little hard inside,
+compared with Luxury's soft palm; a face honest, fair, and rather large
+than small; not beautiful, but exceedingly comely; a complexion not pink
+and white, but that delicately blended brickdusty color, which tints the
+whole cheek in fine gradation, outlasts other complexions twenty years,
+and beautifies the true Northern, even in old age. Gray, limpid, honest,
+point-blank, searching eyes; hair true nut-brown, without a shade of red
+or black; and a high, smooth forehead, full of sense. Across it ran
+one deep wrinkle that did not belong to her youth. That wrinkle was the
+brand of trouble, the line of agony. It had come of loving above her,
+yet below her, and of loving an egotist.
+
+Three years before our tale commenced, a gentleman's horse ran away with
+him, and threw him on a heap of stones by the roadside, not very far
+from Farmer Dale's gate. The farmer had him taken in. The doctor said he
+must not be moved. He was insensible; his cheek like delicate wax; his
+fair hair like silk stained with blood. He became Phoebe's patient, and,
+in due course, her convalescent: his pale, handsome face and fascinating
+manners gained one charm more from weakness; his vices were in abeyance.
+
+The womanly nurse's heart yearned over her child; for he was feeble as
+a child; and, when he got well enough to amuse his weary hours by making
+love to her, and telling her a pack of arrant lies, she was a ready
+dupe. He was to marry her as soon as ever his old uncle died, and left
+him the means, etc., etc. At last he got well enough to leave her, and
+went away, her open admirer and secret lover. He borrowed twenty pounds
+of her the day he left.
+
+He used to write her charming letters, and feed the flame; but one day
+her father sent her up to London, on his own business, all of a sudden,
+and she called on Mr. Falcon at his real address. She found he did not
+live there--only received letters. However, half-a-crown soon bought his
+real address, and thither Phoebe proceeded with a troubled heart, for
+she suspected that her true lover was in debt or trouble, and obliged to
+hide. Well, he must be got out of it, and hide at the farm meantime.
+
+So the loving girl knocked at the door, asked for Mr. Falcon, and was
+shown in to a lady rather showily dressed, who asked her business.
+
+Phoebe Dale stared at her, and then turned pale as ashes. She was
+paralyzed, and could not find her tongue.
+
+“Why, what is the matter now?” said the other, sharply.
+
+“Are you married to Reginald Falcon?”
+
+“Of course I am. Look at my wedding-ring.”
+
+“Then I am not wanted here,” faltered Phoebe, ready to sink on the
+floor.
+
+“Certainly not, if you are one of the bygones,” said the woman,
+coarsely; and Phoebe Dale waited to hear no more, but found her way,
+Heaven knows how, into the street, and there leaned, half-fainting, on
+a rail, till a policeman came, and told her she had been drinking, and
+suggested a cool cell as the best cure.
+
+“Not drink; only a breaking heart,” said she, in her low, mellow voice
+that few could resist.
+
+He got her a glass of water, drove away the boys that congregated
+directly, and she left the street. But she soon came back again, and
+waited about for Reginald Falcon.
+
+It was night when he appeared. She seized him by the breast, and taxed
+him with his villany.
+
+What with her iron grasp, pale face, and flashing eyes, he lost his
+cool impudence, and blurted out excuses. It was an old and unfortunate
+connection; he would give the world to dissolve it, if he could do it
+like a gentleman.
+
+Phoebe told him to please himself: he must part with one or the other.
+
+“Don't talk nonsense,” said this man of brass; “I'll un-Falcon her on
+the spot.”
+
+“Very well,” said Phoebe. “I am going home; and, if you are not there by
+to-morrow at noon”--She said no more, but looked a great deal. Then she
+departed, and refused him her hand at parting. “We will see about that
+by and by,” said she.
+
+At noon my lord came down to the farm, and, unfortunately for Phoebe,
+played the penitent so skilfully for about a month, that she forgave
+him, and loved him all the more for having so nearly parted with him.
+
+Her peace was not to endure long. He was detected in an intrigue in the
+very village.
+
+The insult struck so home that Phoebe herself, to her parents'
+satisfaction, ordered him out of the house at once.
+
+But, when he was gone, she had fits of weeping, and could settle to
+nothing for a long time.
+
+Months had elapsed, and she was getting a sort of dull tranquillity,
+when, one evening, taking a walk she had often with him, and mourning
+her solitude and wasted affection, he waylaid her, and clung to
+her knees, and shed crocodile tears on her hands, and, after a long
+resistance, violent at first, but fainter and fainter, got her in his
+power again, and that so completely that she met him several times by
+night, being ashamed to be seen with him in those parts by day.
+
+This ended in fresh promises of marriage, and in a constant
+correspondence by letter. This pest knew exactly how to talk to a woman,
+and how to write to one. His letters fed the unhappy flame; and, mind
+you, he sometimes deceived himself, and thought he loved her; but it
+was only himself he loved. She was an invaluable lover; a faithful,
+disinterested friend; hers was a vile bargain; his, an excellent one,
+and he clung to it.
+
+And so they went on. She detected him in another infidelity, and
+reproached him bitterly; but she had no longer the strength to break
+with him. Nevertheless, this time she had the sense to make a struggle.
+She implored him, on her very knees, to show her a little mercy in
+return for all her love. “For pity's sake, leave me!” she cried. “You
+are strong, and I am weak. You can end it forever, and pray do. You
+don't want me; you don't value me: then, leave me, once and for all, and
+end this hell you keep me in.”
+
+No; he could not, or he would not, leave her alone. Look at a bird's
+wings!--how like an angel's! Yet so vile a thing as a bit of birdlime
+subdues them utterly; and such was the fascinating power of this mean
+man over this worthy woman. She was a reader, a thinker, a model
+of respectability, industry, and sense; a businesswoman, keen and
+practical; could encounter sharp hands in sharp trades; could buy or
+sell hogs, calves, or beasts with any farmer or butcher in the country,
+yet no match for a cunning fool. She had enshrined an idol in her heart,
+and that heart adored it, and clung to it, though the superior head saw
+through it, dreaded it, despised it.
+
+No wonder three years of this had drawn a tell-tale wrinkle across the
+polished brow.
+
+
+Phoebe Dale had not received a letter for some days; that roused her
+suspicion and stung her jealousy; she came up to London by fast train,
+and down to Gravesend directly.
+
+She had a thick veil that concealed her features; and with a little
+inquiring and bribing, she soon found out that Mr. Falcon was there with
+a showy dogcart. “Ah!” thought Phoebe, “he has won a little money at
+play or pigeon-shooting; so now he has no need of me.”
+
+She took the lodgings opposite him, but observed nothing till this very
+morning, when she saw him throw off his dressing-gown all in a hurry and
+fling on his coat. She tied on her bonnet as rapidly, and followed him,
+until she discovered the object of his pursuit. It was a surprise to
+her, and a puzzle, to see another man step in, as if to take her
+part. But as Reginald still followed the loitering pair, she followed
+Reginald, till he turned and found her at his heels, white and lowering.
+
+She confronted him in threatening silence for some time, during which he
+prepared his defence.
+
+“So it is a LADY this time,” said she, in her low, rich voice, sternly.
+
+“Is it?”
+
+“Yes, and I should say she is bespoke--that tall, fine-built gentleman.
+But I suppose you care no more for his feelings than you do for mine.”
+
+“Phoebe,” said the egotist, “I will not try to deceive you. You have
+often said you are my true friend.”
+
+“And I think I have proved it.”
+
+“That you have. Well, then, be my true friend now. I am in love--really
+in love--this time. You and I only torment each other; let us part
+friends. There are plenty of farmers in Essex that would jump at you. As
+for me, I'll tell you the truth; I have run through every farthing;
+my estate mortgaged beyond its value--two or three writs out against
+me--that is why I slipped down here. My only chance is to marry Money.
+Her father knows I have land, and he knows nothing about the mortgages;
+she is his only daughter. Don't stand in my way, that is a good girl; be
+my friend, as you always were. Hang it all, Phoebe, can't you say a word
+to a fellow that is driven into a corner, instead of glaring at me like
+that? There! I know it is ungrateful; but what can a fellow do? I must
+live like a gentleman or else take a dose of prussic acid; you don't
+want to drive me to that. Why, you proposed to part, last time,
+yourself.”
+
+She gave him one majestic, indescribable look, that made even his
+callous heart quiver, and turned away.
+
+Then the scamp admired her for despising him, and could not bear to lose
+her. He followed her, and put forth all those powers of persuading and
+soothing, which had so often proved irresistible. But this time it was
+in vain. The insult was too savage, and his egotism too brutal, for
+honeyed phrases to blind her.
+
+After enduring it a long time with a silent shudder, she turned and
+shook him fiercely off her like some poisonous reptile.
+
+“Do you want me to kill you? I'd liever kill myself for loving such a
+thing as THOU. Go thy ways, man, and let me go mine.” In her passion she
+dropped her cultivation for once, and went back to the THOU and THEE of
+her grandam.
+
+He colored up and looked spiteful enough; but he soon recovered his
+cynical egotism, and went off whistling an operatic passage.
+
+She crept to her lodgings, and buried her face in her pillow, and rocked
+herself to and fro for hours in the bitterest agony the heart can feel,
+groaning over her great affection wasted, flung into the dirt.
+
+While she was thus, she heard a little commotion. She came to the window
+and saw Falcon, exquisitely dressed, drive off in his dogcart, attended
+by the acclamations of eight boys. She saw at a glance he was gone
+courting; her knees gave way under her, and, such is the power of the
+mind, this stalwart girl lay weak as water on the sofa, and had not the
+power to go home, though just then she had but one wish, one hope--to
+see her idol's face no more, nor hear his wheedling tongue, that had
+ruined her peace.
+
+The exquisite Mr. Falcon was received by Rosa Lusignan with a certain
+tremor that flattered his hopes. He told her, in charming language, how
+he had admired her at first sight, then esteemed her, then loved her.
+
+She blushed and panted, and showed more than once a desire to interrupt
+him, but was too polite. She heard him out with rising dismay, and he
+offered her his hand and heart.
+
+But by this time she had made up her mind what to say. “O Mr. Falcon!”
+ she cried, “how can you speak to me in this way? Why, I am engaged.
+Didn't you know?”
+
+“No; I am sure you are not, or you would never have given me the
+encouragement you have.”
+
+“Oh, all engaged young ladies flirt--a little; and everybody here knows
+I am engaged to Dr. Staines.”
+
+“Why, I never saw him here.”
+
+Rosa's tact was a quality that came and went; so she blushed, and
+faltered out, “We had a little tiff, as lovers will.”
+
+“And you did me the honor to select me as cat's-paw to bring him on
+again. Was not that rather heartless?”
+
+Rosa's fitful tact returned to her.
+
+“Oh, sir, do not think so ill of me. I am not heartless, I am only
+unwise; and you are so superior to the people about you; I could not
+help appreciating you, and I thought you knew I was engaged, and so I
+was less on my guard. I hope I shall not lose your esteem, though I have
+no right to anything more. Ah! I see by your face I have behaved very
+ill: pray forgive me.”
+
+And with this she turned on the waters of the Nile, better known to you,
+perhaps, as “crocodile tears.”
+
+Falcon was a gentleman on the surface, and knew he should only make
+matters worse by quarrelling with her. So he ground his teeth, and said,
+“May your own heart never feel the pangs you have inflicted. I shall
+love you and remember you till my dying day.”
+
+He bowed ceremoniously and left her.
+
+“Ay,” said he to himself, “I WILL remember you, you heartless jilt, and
+the man you have jilted me for. Staines is his d--d name, is it?”
+
+He drove back crestfallen, bitter, and, for once in his life,
+heart-sick, and drew up at his lodgings. Here he found attendants
+waiting to receive him.
+
+A sheriff's officer took his dogcart and horse under a judgment; the
+disturbance this caused collected a tiny crowd, gaping and grinning, and
+brought Phoebe's white face and eyes swollen with weeping to the window.
+
+Falcon saw her and brazened it out. “Take them,” said he, with an oath.
+“I'll have a better turn-out by to-morrow, breakfast-time.”
+
+The crowd cheered him for his spirit.
+
+He got down, lit a cigar, chaffed the officer and the crowd, and was, on
+the whole, admired.
+
+Then another officer, who had been hunting him in couples with the
+other, stepped forward and took HIM, for the balance of a judgment debt.
+
+Then the swell's cigar fell out of his mouth, and he was seriously
+alarmed. “Why, Cartwright,” said he, “this is too bad. You promised not
+to see me this month. You passed me full in the Strand.”
+
+“You are mistaken, sir,” said Cartwright, with sullen irony. “I've got a
+twin-brother; a many takes him for me, till they finds the difference.”
+ Then, lowering his voice, “What call had you to boast in your club you
+had made it right with Bill Cartwright, and he'd never see you? That got
+about, and so I was bound to see you or lose my bread. There's one or
+two I don't see, but then they are real gentlemen, and thinks of me as
+well as theirselves, and doesn't blab.”
+
+“I must have been drunk,” said Falcon apologetically. “More likely
+blowing a cloud. When you young gents gets a-smoking together,
+you'd tell on your own mothers. Come along, colonel, off we go to
+Merrimashee.”
+
+“Why, it is only twenty-six pounds. I have paid the rest.”
+
+“More than that; there's the costs.”
+
+“Come in, and I'll settle it.”
+
+“All right, sir. Jem, watch the back.”
+
+“Oh, I shall not try that game with a sharp hand like you, Cartwright.”
+
+“You had better not, sir,” said Cartwright; but he was softened a little
+by the compliment.
+
+When they were alone, Falcon began by saying it was a bad job for him.
+
+“Why, I thought you was a-going to pay it all in a moment.”
+
+“I can't; but I have got a friend over the way that could, if she chose.
+She has always got money, somehow.”
+
+“Oh, if it is a she, it is all right.”
+
+“I don't know. She has quarrelled with me; but give me a little time.
+Here! have a glass of sherry and a biscuit, while I try it on.”
+
+Having thus muffled Cartwright, this man of the world opened his window
+and looked out. The crowd had followed the captured dogcart, so he had
+the street to himself. He beckoned to Phoebe, and after considerable
+hesitation she opened her window.
+
+“Phoebe,” said he, in tones of tender regret, admirably natural and
+sweet, “I shall never offend you again; so forgive me this once. I have
+given that girl up.”
+
+“Not you,” said Phoebe, sullenly.
+
+“Indeed I have. After our quarrel, I started to propose to her; but I
+had not the heart; I came back and left her.”
+
+“Time will show. If it is not her, it will be some other, you false,
+heartless villain.”
+
+“Come, I say, don't be so hard on me in trouble. I am going to prison.”
+
+“So I suppose.”
+
+“Ah! but it is worse than you think. I am only taken for a paltry thirty
+pounds or so.”
+
+“Thirty-three, fifteen, five,” suggested Cartwright, in a muffled
+whisper, his mouth being full of biscuit.
+
+“But once they get me to a sponging-house, detainers will pour in, and
+my cruel creditors will confine me for life.”
+
+“It is the best place for you. It will put a stop to your wickedness,
+and I shall be at peace. That's what I have never known, night or day,
+this three years.”
+
+“But you will not be happy if you see me go to prison before your eyes.
+Were you ever inside a prison? Just think what it must be to be cooped
+up in those cold grim cells all alone; for they use a debtor like a
+criminal now.”
+
+Phoebe shuddered; but she said, bravely, “Well, tell THEM you have been
+a-courting. There was a time I'd have died sooner than see a hair of
+your head hurt; but it is all over now; you have worn me out.”
+
+Then she began to cry.
+
+Falcon heaved a deep sigh. “It is no more than I deserve,” said he.
+“I'll pack up my things, and go with the officer. Give me one kind word
+at parting, and I'll think of it in my prison, night and day.”
+
+He withdrew from the window with another deep sigh, told Cartwright,
+cheerfully, it was all right, and proceeded to pack up his traps.
+
+Meantime Phoebe sat at her window and cried bitterly. Her words had been
+braver than her heart.
+
+Falcon managed to pay the trifle he owed for the lodgings, and presently
+he came out with Cartwright, and the attendant called a cab. His things
+were thrown in, and Cartwright invited him to follow. Then he looked up,
+and cast a genuine look of terror and misery at Phoebe. He thought she
+would have relented before this.
+
+Her heart gave way; I am afraid it would, even without that piteous and
+mute appeal. She opened the window, and asked Mr. Cartwright if he would
+be good enough to come and speak to her.
+
+Cartwright committed his prisoner to the subordinate, and knocked at the
+door of Phoebe's lodgings. She came down herself and let him in. She led
+the way upstairs, motioned him to a seat, sat down by him, and began to
+cry again. She was thoroughly unstrung.
+
+Cartwright was human, and muttered some words of regret that a poor
+fellow must do his duty.
+
+“Oh, it is not that,” sobbed Phoebe. “I can find the money. I have found
+more for him than that, many's the time.” Then, drying her eyes, “But
+you must know the world, and I dare say you can see how 'tis with me.”
+
+“I can,” said Cartwright, gravely. “I overheard you and him; and, my
+girl, if you take my advice, why, let him go. He is a gentleman skin
+deep, and dresses well, and can palaver a girl, no doubt; but bless
+your heart, I can see at a glance he is not worth your little finger,
+an honest, decent young woman like you. Why, it is like butter fighting
+with stone. Let him go; or I will tell you what it is, you will hang for
+him some day, or else make away with yourself.”
+
+“Ay, sir,” said Phoebe, “that's likelier; and if I was to let him go to
+prison, I should sit me down and think of his parting look, and I should
+fling myself into the water for him before I was a day older.”
+
+“Ye mustn't do that anyway. While there's life there's hope.”
+
+Upon this Phoebe put him a question, and found him ready to do anything
+for her, in reason--provided he was paid for it. And the end of it all
+was, the prisoner was conveyed to London; Phoebe got the requisite sum;
+Falcon was deposited in a third-class carriage bound for Essex. Phoebe
+paid his debt, and gave Cartwright a present, and away rattled the train
+conveying the handsome egotist into temporary retirement, to wit, at
+a village five miles from the Dales' farm. She was too ashamed of her
+young gentleman and herself to be seen with him in her native village.
+On the road down he was full of little practical attentions; she
+received them coldly; his mellifluous mouth was often at her car,
+pouring thanks and praises into it; she never vouchsafed a word of
+reply. All she did was to shudder now and then, and cry at intervals.
+Yet, whenever he left her side, her whole body became restless; and when
+he came back to her, a furtive thrill announced the insane complacency
+his bare contact gave her. Surely, of all the forms in which love
+torments the heart, this was the most terrible and pitiable.
+
+
+Mr. Lusignan found his daughter in tears.
+
+“Why, what is the matter now?” said he, a little peevishly. “We have had
+nothing of this sort of thing lately.”
+
+“Papa, it is because I have misconducted myself. I am a foolish,
+imprudent girl. I have been flirting with Mr. Falcon, and he has taken a
+CRUEL advantage of it--proposed to me--this very afternoon--actually!”
+
+“Has he? Well, he is a fine fellow, and has a landed estate in Norfolk.
+There's nothing like land. They may well call it real property--there is
+something to show; you can walk on it, and ride on it, and look out of
+window at it: that IS property.”
+
+“Oh, papa! what are you saying? Would you have me marry one man when I
+belong to another?”
+
+“But you don't belong to any one except to me.”
+
+“Oh, yes; I do. I belong to my dear Christopher.”
+
+“Why, you dismissed him before my very eyes; and very ill you behaved,
+begging your pardon. The man was your able physician and your best
+friend, and said nothing that was not for your good; and you treated him
+like a dog.”
+
+“Yes, but he has apologized.”
+
+“What for? being treated like a dog?”
+
+“Oh, don't say so, papa! At all events, he has apologized, as a
+gentleman should whenever--whenever”--
+
+“Whenever a lady is in the wrong.”
+
+“Don't, papa; and I have asked him to dinner.”
+
+“With all my heart. I shall be downright glad to see him again. You used
+him abominably.”
+
+“But you need not keep saying so,” whined Rosa. “And that is not all,
+dear papa; the worst of it is, Mr. Falcon proposing to me has opened my
+eyes. I am not fit to be trusted alone. I am too fond of dancing, and
+flirting will follow somehow. Oh, think how ill I was a few months ago,
+and how unhappy you were about me! They were killing me. He came and
+saved me. Yes, papa, I owe all this health and strength to Christopher.
+I did take them off, the very next day, and see the effect of it and my
+long walks. I owe him my life, and what I value far more, my good looks.
+La! I wish I had not told you that. And after all this, don't I belong
+to my Christopher? How could I be happy or respect myself if I married
+any one else? And oh, papa! he looks wan and worn. He has been fretting
+for his Simpleton. Oh, dear! I mustn't think of that--it makes me cry;
+and you don't like scenes, do you?”
+
+“Hate 'em!”
+
+“Well, then,” said Rosa, coaxingly, “I'll tell you how to end them.
+Marry your Simpleton to the only man who is fit to take care of her. Oh,
+papa! think of his deep, deep affection for me, and pray don't snub
+him if--by any chance--after dinner--he should HAPPEN to ask
+you--something.”
+
+“Oh, then it is possible that, by the merest chance, the gentleman you
+have accidentally asked to dinner, may, by some strange fortuity,
+be surprised into asking me a second time for something very much
+resembling my daughter's hand--eh?”
+
+Rosa colored high. “He might, you know. How can I tell what gentlemen
+will say when the ladies have retired and they are left alone
+with--with”--
+
+“With the bottle. Ay, that's true; when the wine is in, the wit is out.”
+
+Said Rosa, “Well, if he should happen to be so foolish, pray think of
+ME; of all we owe him, and how much I love him, and ought to love him.”
+ She then bestowed a propitiatory kiss, and ran off to dress for dinner;
+it was a much longer operation to-day than usual.
+
+Dr. Staines was punctual. Mr. Lusignan commented favorably on that.
+
+“He always is,” said Rosa, eagerly.
+
+They dined together. Mr. Lusignan chatted freely, but Staines and Rosa
+were under a feeling of restraint, Staines in particular; he could not
+help feeling that before long his fate must be settled. He would either
+obtain Rosa's hand, or have to resign her to some man of fortune who
+would step in; for beauty such as hers could not long lack brilliant
+offers. Longing, though dreading, to know his fate, he was glad when
+dinner ended.
+
+Rosa sat with them a little while after dinner, then rose, bestowed
+another propitiatory kiss on her father's head, and retired with a
+modest blush, and a look at Christopher that was almost divine.
+
+It inspired him with the courage of lions, and he commenced the attack
+at once.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+“Mr. Lusignan,” said he, “the last time I was here you gave me some
+hopes that you might be prevailed on to trust that angel's health and
+happiness to my care.”
+
+“Well, Dr. Staines, I will not beat about the bush with you. My judgment
+is still against this marriage; you need not look so alarmed; it does
+not follow I shall forbid it. I feel I have hardly a right to, for my
+Rosa might be in her grave now but for you; and, another thing, when I
+interfered between you two I had no proof you were a man of ability; I
+had only your sweetheart's word for that; and I never knew a case before
+where a young lady's swan did not turn out a goose. Your rare ability
+gives you another chance in the professional battle that is before you;
+indeed, it puts a different face on the whole matter. I still think it
+premature. Come now, would it not be much wiser to wait, and secure
+a good practice before you marry a mere child? There! there! I
+only advise; I don't dictate; you shall settle it together, you two
+wiseacres. Only I must make one positive condition. I have nothing to
+give my child during my lifetime; but one thing I have done for her;
+years ago I insured my life for six thousand pounds; and you must do the
+same. I will not have her thrown on the world a widow, with a child or
+two, perhaps, to support, and not a farthing; you know the insecurity of
+mortal life.”
+
+“I do! I do! Why, of course I will insure my life, and pay the annual
+premium out of my little capital, until income flows in.”
+
+“Will you hand me over a sum sufficient to pay that premium for five
+years?”
+
+“With pleasure.”
+
+“Then I fear,” said the old gentleman, with a sigh, “my opposition to
+the match must cease here. I still recommend you to wait; but--there! I
+might just as well advise fire and tow to live neighbors and keep cool.”
+
+To show the injustice of this simile, Christopher Staines started up
+with his eyes all aglow, and cried out, rapturously, “Oh, sir, may I
+tell her?”
+
+“Yes, you may tell her,” said Lusignan, with a smile. “Stop--what are
+you going to tell her?”
+
+“That you consent, sir. God bless you! God bless you! Oh!”
+
+“Yes, but that I advise you to wait.”
+
+“I'll tell her all,” said Staines, and rushed out even as he spoke, and
+upset a heavy chair with a loud thud.
+
+“Ah! ah!” cried the old gentleman in dismay, and put his fingers in his
+ears--too late. “I see,” said he, “there will be no peace and quiet
+now till they are out of the house.” He lighted a soothing cigar to
+counteract the fracas.
+
+“Poor little Rosa! a child but yesterday, and now to encounter the cares
+of a wife, and perhaps a mother. Ah! she is but young, but young.”
+
+The old gentleman prophesied truly; from that moment he had no peace
+till he withdrew all semblance of dissent, and even of procrastination.
+
+Christopher insured his life for six thousand pounds, and assigned the
+policy to his wife. Four hundred pounds was handed to Mr. Lusignan to
+pay the premiums until the genius of Dr. Staines should have secured him
+that large professional income, which does not come all at once, even to
+the rare physician, who is Capax, Efficax, Sagax.
+
+The wedding-day was named. The bridesmaids were selected, the guests
+invited. None refused but Uncle Philip. He declined, in his fine
+bold hand, to countenance in person an act of folly he disapproved.
+Christopher put his letter away with a momentary sigh, and would not
+show it Rosa. All other letters they read together, charming pastime
+of that happy period. Presents poured in. Silver teapots, coffeepots,
+sugar-basins, cream-jugs, fruit-dishes, silver-gilt inkstands, albums,
+photograph-books, little candlesticks, choice little services of china,
+shell salt-cellars in a case lined with maroon velvet; a Bible, superb
+in binding and clasps, and everything but the text--that was illegible;
+a silk scarf from Benares; a gold chain from Delhi, six feet long or
+nearly; a Maltese necklace, a ditto in exquisite filagree from Genoa;
+English brooches, a trifle too big and brainless; apostle spoons; a
+treble-lined parasol with ivory stick and handle; an ivory card-case,
+richly carved; workbox of sandal-wood and ivory, etc. Mr. Lusignan's
+City friends, as usual with these gentlemen, sent the most valuable
+things. Every day one or two packages were delivered, and, in opening
+them, Rosa invariably uttered a peculiar scream of delight, and her
+father put his fingers in his ears; yet there was music in this very
+scream, if he would only have listened to it candidly, instead of fixing
+his mind on his vague theory of screams--so formed was she to please the
+ear as well as the eye.
+
+At last came a parcel she opened and stared at, smiling and coloring
+like a rose, but did not scream, being too dumfounded and perplexed;
+for lo! a teapot of some base material, but simple and elegant in form,
+being an exact reproduction of a melon; and inside this teapot a canvas
+bag containing ten guineas in silver, and a wash-leather bag containing
+twenty guineas in gold, and a slip of paper, which Rosa, being now half
+recovered from her stupefaction, read out to her father and Dr. Staines:
+
+
+“People that buy presents blindfold give duplicates and triplicates;
+and men seldom choose to a woman's taste; so be pleased to accept the
+enclosed tea-leaves, and buy for yourself. The teapot you can put on the
+hob, for it is nickel.”
+
+
+Rosa looked sore puzzled again. “Papa,” said she, timidly, “have we any
+friend that is--a little--deranged?”
+
+“A lot.”
+
+“Oh, then, that accounts.”
+
+“Why no, love,” said Christopher. “I have heard of much learning making
+a man mad, but never of much good sense.”
+
+“What! Do you call this sensible?”
+
+“Don't you?”
+
+“I'll read it again,” said Rosa. “Well--yes--I declare--it is not so mad
+as I thought; but it is very eccentric.”
+
+Lusignan suggested there was nothing so eccentric as common sense,
+especially in time of wedding. “This,” said he, “comes from the City. It
+is a friend of mine, some old fox; he is throwing dust in your eyes with
+his reasons; his real reason was that his time is money; it would have
+cost the old rogue a hundred pounds' worth of time--you know the City,
+Christopher--to go out and choose the girl a present; so he has sent his
+clerk out with a check to buy a pewter teapot, and fill it with specie.”
+
+“Pewter!” cried Rosa. “No such thing! It's nickel. What is nickel, I
+wonder?”
+
+The handwriting afforded no clew, so there the discussion ended: but it
+was a nice little mystery, and very convenient; made conversation. Rosa
+had many an animated discussion about it with her female friends.
+
+The wedding-day came at last. The sun shone--ACTUALLY, as Rosa observed.
+The carriages drove up. The bridesmaids, principally old schoolfellows
+and impassioned correspondents of Rosa, were pretty, and dressed alike
+and delightfully; but the bride was peerless; her Southern beauty
+literally shone in that white satin dress and veil, and her head was
+regal with the Crown of orange-blossoms. Another crown she had--true
+virgin modesty. A low murmur burst from the men the moment they saw her;
+the old women forgave her beauty on the spot, and the young women almost
+pardoned it; she was so sweet and womanly, and so sisterly to her own
+sex.
+
+When they started for the church she began to tremble, she scarce knew
+why; and when the solemn words were said, and the ring was put on
+her finger, she cried a little, and looked half imploringly at her
+bridesmaids once, as if seared at leaving them for an untried and
+mysterious life with no woman near.
+
+They were married. Then came the breakfast, that hour of uneasiness and
+blushing to such a bride as this; but at last she was released. She sped
+up-stairs, thanking goodness it was over. Down came her last box. The
+bride followed in a plain travelling dress, which her glorious eyes and
+brows and her rich glowing cheeks seemed to illumine: she was handed
+into the carriage, the bridegroom followed. All the young guests
+clustered about the door, armed with white shoes--slippers are gone by.
+
+They started; the ladies flung their white shoes right and left with
+religious impartiality, except that not one of their missiles went at
+the object. The men, more skilful, sent a shower on to the roof of
+the carriage, which is the lucky spot. The bride kissed her hand, and
+managed to put off crying, though it cost her a struggle. The party
+hurrahed; enthusiastic youths gathered fallen shoes, and ran and hurled
+them again with cheerful yells, and away went the happy pair, the
+bride leaning sweetly and confidingly with both her white hands on the
+bridegroom's shoulder, while he dried the tears that would run now at
+leaving home and parent forever, and kissed her often, and encircled her
+with his strong arm, and murmured comfort, and love, and pride, and joy,
+and sweet vows of lifelong tenderness into her ears, that soon stole
+nearer his lips to hear, and the fair cheek grew softly to his shoulder.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Dr. Staines and Mrs. Staines visited France, Switzerland, and the Rhine,
+and passed a month of Elysium before they came to London to face their
+real destiny and fight the battle of life.
+
+And here, methinks, a reader of novels may perhaps cry out and say,
+“What manner of man is this, who marries his hero and heroine, and then,
+instead of leaving them happy for life, and at rest from his uneasy pen
+and all their other troubles, flows coolly on with their adventures?”
+
+To this I can only reply that the old English novel is no rule to me,
+and life is; and I respectfully propose an experiment. Catch eight old
+married people, four of each sex, and say unto them, “Sir,” or “Madam,
+did the more remarkable events of your life come to you before marriage
+or after?” Most of them will say “after,” and let that be my excuse for
+treating the marriage of Christopher Staines and Rosa Lusignan as merely
+one incident in their lives; an incident which, so far from ending their
+story, led by degrees to more striking events than any that occurred to
+them before they were man and wife.
+
+They returned, then, from their honey tour, and Staines, who was
+methodical and kept a diary, made the following entry therein:--
+
+“We have now a life of endurance, and self-denial, and economy, before
+us; we have to rent a house, and furnish it, and live in it, until
+professional income shall flow in and make all things easy: and we have
+two thousand five hundred pounds left to do it with.”
+
+They came to a family hotel, and Dr. Staines went out directly after
+breakfast to look for a house. Acting on a friend's advice, he visited
+the streets and places north of Oxford Street, looking for a good
+commodious house adapted to his business. He found three or four at fair
+rents, neither cheap nor dear, the district being respectable and rather
+wealthy, but no longer fashionable. He came home with his notes, and
+found Rosa beaming in a crisp peignoir, and her lovely head its natural
+size and shape, high-bred and elegant. He sat down, and with her hand
+in his proceeded to describe the houses to her, when a waiter threw open
+the door--“Mrs. John Cole.”
+
+“Florence!” cried Rosa, starting up.
+
+In flowed Florence: they both uttered a little squawk of delight,
+and went at each other like two little tigresses, and kissed in swift
+alternation with a singular ardor, drawing their crests back like
+snakes, and then darting them forward and inflicting what, to the male
+philosopher looking on, seemed hard kisses, violent kisses, rather than
+the tender ones to be expected from two tender creatures embracing each
+other.
+
+“Darling,” said Rosa, “I knew you would be the first. Didn't I tell you
+so, Christopher?--My husband--my darling Florry! Sit down, love, and
+tell me everything; he has just been looking out for a house. Ah!
+you have got all that over long ago: she has been married six months.
+Florry, you are handsomer than ever; and what a beautiful dress! Ah!
+London is the place. Real Brussels, I declare,” and she took hold of her
+friend's lace and gloated on it.
+
+Christopher smiled good-naturedly, and said, “I dare say you ladies have
+a good deal to say to each other.”
+
+“Oceans,” said Rosa.
+
+“I will go and hunt houses again.”
+
+“There's a good husband,” said Mrs. Cole, as soon as the door closed
+on him, “and such a fine man! Why, he must be six feet. Mine is rather
+short. But he is very good; refuses me nothing. My will is law.”
+
+“That is all right--you are so sensible; but I want governing a little,
+and I like it--actually. Did the dressmaker find it, dear?”
+
+“Oh, no! I had it by me. I bought it at Brussels on our wedding tour: it
+is dearer there than in London.”
+
+She said this as if “dearer” and “better” were synonymous.
+
+“But about your house, Rosie dear?”
+
+“Yes, darling, I'll tell you all about it. I never saw a moire
+this shade before. I don't care for them in general; but this is so
+distingue.”
+
+Florence rewarded her with a kiss.
+
+“The house,” said Rosa. “Oh, he has seen one in Portman Street, and one
+in Gloucester Place.”
+
+“Oh, that will never do,” cried Mrs. Cole. “It is no use being a
+physician in those out-of-the-way places. He must be in Mayfair.”
+
+“Must he?”
+
+“Of course. Besides, then my Johnnie can call him in when they are just
+going to die. Johnnie is a general prac., and makes two thousand a year;
+and he shall call your one in; but he must live in Mayfair. Why, Rosie,
+you would not be such a goose as to live in those places--they are quite
+gone by.”
+
+“I shall do whatever you advise me, dear. Oh, what a comfort to have a
+dear friend: and six months married, and knows things. How richly it is
+trimmed! Why, it is nearly all trimmings.”
+
+“That is the fashion.”
+
+“Oh!”
+
+And after that big word there was no more to be said.
+
+These two ladies in their conversation gravitated towards dress, and
+fell flat on it every half-minute. That great and elevating topic held
+them by a silken cord, but it allowed them to flutter upwards into other
+topics; and in those intervals, numerous though brief, the lady who had
+been married six months found time to instruct the matrimonial novice
+with great authority, and even a shade of pomposity. “My dear, the way
+ladies and gentlemen get a house--in the first place, you don't go about
+yourself like that, and you never go to the people themselves, or you
+are sure to be taken in, but to a respectable house-agent.”
+
+“Yes, dear, that must be the best way, one would think.”
+
+“Of course it is; and you ask for a house in Mayfair, and he shows you
+several, and recommends you the best, and sees you are not cheated.”
+
+“Thank you, love,” said Rosa; “now I know what to do; I'll not forget a
+word. And the train so beautifully shaped! Ah! it is only in London or
+Paris they can make a dress flow behind like that,” etc., etc.
+
+Dr. Staines came back to dinner in good spirits; he had found a house in
+Harewood Square; good entrance hall, where his gratuitous patients might
+sit on benches; good dining-room where his superior patients might wait;
+and good library, to be used as a consulting-room. Rent only eighty-five
+pounds per annum.
+
+But Rosa told him that would never do; a physician must be in the
+fashionable part of the town.
+
+“Eventually,” said Christopher; “but surely at first starting--and you
+know they say little boats should not go too far from shore.”
+
+Then Rosa repeated all her friend's arguments, and seemed so unhappy at
+the idea of not living near her, that Staines, who had not yet said
+the hard word “no” to her, gave in; consoling his prudence with the
+reflection that, after all, Mr. Cole could put many a guinea in his
+way, for Mr. Cole was middle-aged,--though his wife was young,--and had
+really a very large practice.
+
+So next day, the newly-wedded pair called on a house-agent in Mayfair,
+and his son and partner went with them to several places. The rents of
+houses equal to that in Harewood Square were three hundred pounds a year
+at least, and a premium to boot.
+
+Christopher told him these were quite beyond the mark. “Very well,” said
+the agent. “Then I'll show you a Bijou.”
+
+Rosa clapped her hands. “That is the thing for us. We don't want a large
+house, only a beautiful one, and in Mayfair.”
+
+“Then the Bijou will be sure to suit you.”
+
+He took them to the Bijou.
+
+The Bijou had a small dining-room with one very large window in two
+sheets of plate glass, and a projecting balcony full of flowers; a still
+smaller library, which opened on a square yard enclosed. Here were a
+great many pots, with flowers dead or dying from neglect. On the first
+floor a fair-sized drawing-room, and a tiny one at the back: on the
+second floor, one good bedroom, and a dressing-room, or little bedroom:
+three garrets above.
+
+Rosa was in ecstasies. “It is a nest,” said she.
+
+“It is a bank-note,” said the agent, stimulating equal enthusiasm, after
+his fashion. “You can always sell the lease again for more money.”
+
+Christopher kept cool. “I don't want a house to sell, but to live in,
+and do my business; I am a physician: now the drawing-room is built over
+the entrance to a mews; the back rooms all look into a mews: we shall
+have the eternal noise and smell of a mews. My wife's rest will be
+broken by the carriages rolling in and out. The hall is fearfully small
+and stuffy. The rent is abominably high; and what is the premium for, I
+wonder?”
+
+“Always a premium in Mayfair, sir. A lease is property here: the
+gentleman is not acquainted with this part, madam.”
+
+“Oh, yes, he is,” said Rosa, as boldly as a six years' wife: “he knows
+everything.”
+
+“Then he knows that a house of this kind at a hundred and thirty pounds
+a year in Mayfair is a bank-note.”
+
+Staines turned to Rosa. “The poor patients, where am I to receive them?”
+
+“In the stable,” suggested the house agent.
+
+“Oh!” said Rosa, shocked.
+
+“Well, then, the coach-house. Why, there's plenty of room for a
+brougham, and one horse, and fifty poor patients at a time: beggars
+musn't be choosers; if you give them physic gratis, that is enough: you
+ain't bound to find 'em a palace to sit down in, and hot coffee and rump
+steaks all round, doctor.”
+
+This tickled Rosa so that she burst out laughing, and thenceforward
+giggled at intervals, wit of this refined nature having all the charm of
+novelty for her.
+
+They inspected the stables, which were indeed the one redeeming feature
+in the horrid little Bijou; and then the agent would show them the
+kitchen, and the new stove. He expatiated on this to Mrs. Staines. “Cook
+a dinner for thirty people, madam.”
+
+“And there's room for them to eat it--in the road,” said Staines.
+
+The agent reminded him there were larger places to be had, by a very
+simple process, viz., paying for them.
+
+Staines thought of the large, comfortable house in Harewood Square. “One
+hundred and thirty pounds a year for this poky little hole?” he groaned.
+
+“Why, it is nothing at all for a Bijou.”
+
+“But it is too much for a bandbox.”
+
+Rosa laid her hand on his arm, with an imploring glance.
+
+“Well,” said he, “I'll submit to the rent, but I really cannot give the
+premium, it is too ridiculous. He ought to bribe me to rent it, not I
+him.”
+
+“Can't be done without, sir.”
+
+“Well, I'll give a hundred pounds and no more.”
+
+“Impossible, sir.”
+
+“Then good morning. Now, dearest, just come and see the house at
+Harewood Square,--eighty-five pounds and no premium.”
+
+“Will you oblige me with your address, doctor?” said the agent.
+
+“Dr. Staines, Morley's Hotel.”
+
+And so they left Mayfair.
+
+Rosa sighed and said, “Oh, the nice little place; and we have lost it
+for two hundred pounds.”
+
+“Two hundred pounds is a great deal for us to throw away.”
+
+“Being near the Coles would soon have made that up to you: and such a
+cosey little nest.”
+
+“Well the house will not run away.”
+
+“But somebody is sure to snap it up. It is a Bijou.” She was
+disappointed, and half inclined to pout. But she vented her feelings
+in a letter to her beloved Florry, and appeared at dinner as sweet as
+usual.
+
+During dinner a note came from the agent, accepting Dr. Staine's offer.
+He glozed the matter thus: he had persuaded the owner it was better
+to take a good tenant at a moderate loss, than to let the Bijou be
+uninhabited during the present rainy season. An assignment of
+the lease--which contained the usual covenants--would be prepared
+immediately, and Dr. Staines could have possession in forty-eight hours,
+by paying the premium.
+
+Rosa was delighted, and as soon as dinner was over, and the waiters
+gone, she came and kissed Christopher.
+
+He smiled, and said, “Well, you are pleased; that is the principal
+thing. I have saved two hundred pounds, and that is something. It will
+go towards furnishing.”
+
+“La! yes,” said Rosa, “I forgot. We shall have to get furniture now.
+How nice!” It was a pleasure the man of forecast could have willingly
+dispensed with; but he smiled at her, and they discussed furniture,
+and Christopher, whose retentive memory had picked up a little of
+everything, said there were wholesale upholsterers in the City who sold
+cheaper than the West-end houses, and he thought the best way was to
+measure the rooms in the Bijou, and go to the city with a clear idea of
+what they wanted; ask the prices of various necessary articles, and
+then make a list, and demand a discount of fifteen per cent on the whole
+order, being so considerable, and paid for in cash.
+
+Rosa acquiesced, and told Christopher he was the cleverest man in
+England.
+
+About nine o'clock Mrs. Cole came in to condole with her friend, and
+heard the good news. When Rosa told her how they thought of furnishing,
+she said, “Oh no, you must not do that; you will pay double for
+everything. That is the mistake Johnnie and I made; and after that
+a friend of mine took me to the auction-rooms, and I saw everything
+sold--oh, such bargains; half, and less than half, their value. She
+has furnished her house almost entirely from sales, and she has the
+loveliest things in the world--such ducks of tables, and jardinieres,
+and things; and beautiful rare china--her house swarms with it--for an
+old song. A sale is the place. And then so amusing.”
+
+“Yes, but,” said Christopher, “I should not like my wife to encounter a
+public room.”
+
+“Not alone, of course; but with me. La! Dr. Staines, they are too full
+of buying and selling to trouble their heads about us.”
+
+“Oh, Christopher, do let me go with her. Am I always to be a child?”
+
+Thus appealed to before a stranger, Staines replied warmly, “No,
+dearest, no; you cannot please me better than by beginning life in
+earnest. If you two ladies together can face an auction-room, go by all
+means; only I must ask you not to buy china or ormulu, or anything that
+will break or spoil, but only solid, good furniture.”
+
+“Won't you come with us?”
+
+“No; or you might feel yourself in leading-strings. Remember the Bijou
+is a small house; choose your furniture to fit it, and then we shall
+save something by its being so small.”
+
+This was Wednesday. There was a weekly sale in Oxford Street on Fridays;
+and the ladies made the appointment accordingly.
+
+Next day, after breakfast, Christopher was silent and thoughtful awhile,
+and at last said to Rosa, “I'll show you I don't look on you as a child;
+I'll consult you in a delicate matter.”
+
+Rosa's eyes sparkled.
+
+“It is about my Uncle Philip. He has been very cruel; he has wounded
+me deeply; he has wounded me through my wife. I never thought he would
+refuse to come to our marriage.”
+
+“And did he? You never showed me his letter.”
+
+“You were not my wife then. I kept an affront from you; but now, you
+see, I keep nothing.”
+
+“Dear Christie!”
+
+“I am so happy, I have got over that sting--almost; and the memory of
+many kind acts comes back to me; and I don't know what to do. It seems
+ungrateful not to visit him--it seems almost mean to call.”
+
+“I'll tell you; take me to see him directly. He won't hate us forever,
+if he sees us often. We may as well begin at once. Nobody hates me
+long.”
+
+Christopher was proud of his wife's courage and wisdom. He kissed
+her, begged her to put on the plainest dress she could, and they went
+together to call on Uncle Philip.
+
+When they got to his house in Gloucester Place, Portman Square, Rosa's
+heart began to quake, and she was right glad when the servant said “Not
+at home.”
+
+They left their cards and address; and she persuaded Christopher to take
+her to the sale-room to see the things.
+
+A lot of brokers were there, like vultures; and one after another
+stepped forward and pestered them to employ him in the morning. Dr.
+Staines declined their services civilly but firmly, and he and Rosa
+looked over a quantity of furniture, and settled what sort of things to
+buy.
+
+Another broker came up, and whenever the couple stopped before an
+article, proceeded to praise it as something most extraordinary. Staines
+listened in cold, satirical silence, and told his wife, in French, to do
+the same. Notwithstanding their marked disgust, the impudent, intrusive
+fellow stuck to them, and forced his venal criticism on them, and made
+them uncomfortable, and shortened their tour of observation.
+
+“I think I shall come with you to-morrow,” said Christopher, “or I shall
+have these blackguards pestering you.”
+
+“Oh, Florry will send them to the right-about. She is as brave as a
+lion.”
+
+Next day Dr. Staines was sent for into the City at twelve to pay the
+money and receive the lease of the Bijou, and this and the taking
+possession occupied him till four o'clock, when he came to his hotel.
+
+Meantime, his wife and Mrs. Cole had gone to the auction-room.
+
+It was a large room, with a good sprinkling of people, but not crowded
+except about the table. At the head of this table--full twenty feet
+long--was the auctioneer's pulpit, and the lots were brought in turn to
+the other end of the table for sight and sale.
+
+“We must try and get a seat,” said the enterprising Mrs. Cole, and
+pushed boldly in; the timid Rosa followed strictly in her wake, and so
+evaded the human waves her leader clove. They were importuned at every
+step by brokers thrusting catalogues on them, with offers of their
+services, yet they soon got to the table. A gentleman resigned one
+chair, a broker another, and they were seated.
+
+Mrs. Staines let down half her veil, but Mrs. Cole surveyed the company
+point-blank.
+
+The broker who had given up his seat, and now stood behind Rosa, offered
+her his catalogue. “No, thank you,” said Rosa; “I have one;” and she
+produced it, and studied it, yet managed to look furtively at the
+company.
+
+There were not above a dozen private persons visible from where
+Rosa sat; perhaps as many more in the whole room. They were easily
+distinguishable by their cleanly appearance: the dealers, male or
+female, were more or less rusty, greasy, dirty, aquiline. Not even the
+amateurs were brightly dressed; that fundamental error was confined to
+Mesdames Cole and Staines. The experienced, however wealthy, do not hunt
+bargains in silk and satin.
+
+The auctioneer called “Lot 7. Four saucepans, two trays, a kettle, a
+bootjack, and a towel-horse.”
+
+These were put up at two shillings, and speedily knocked down for five
+to a fat old woman in a greasy velvet jacket; blind industry had sewed
+bugles on it, not artfully, but agriculturally.
+
+“The lady on the left!” said the auctioneer to his clerk. That meant
+“Get the money.”
+
+The old lady plunged a huge paw into a huge pocket, and pulled out a
+huge handful of coin--copper, silver, and gold--and paid for the lot;
+and Rosa surveyed her dirty hands and nails with innocent dismay. “Oh,
+what a dreadful creature!” she whispered; “and what can she want with
+those old rubbishy things? I saw a hole in one from here.” The broker
+overheard, and said, “She is a dealer, ma'am, and the things were given
+away. She'll sell them for a guinea, easy.”
+
+“Didn't I tell you?” said Mrs. Cole.
+
+Soon after this the superior lots came on, and six very neat bedroom
+chairs were sold to all appearance for fifteen shillings.
+
+The next lot was identical, and Rosa hazarded a bid,--“Sixteen
+shillings.”
+
+Instantly some dealer, one of the hook-nosed that gathered round each
+lot as it came to the foot of the table, cried “Eighteen shillings.”
+
+“Nineteen,” said Rosa.
+
+“A guinea,” said the dealer.
+
+“Don't let it go,” said the broker behind her. “Don't let it go, ma'am.”
+
+She colored at the intrusion, and left off bidding directly, and
+addressed herself to Mrs. Cole. “Why should I give so much, when the
+last were sold for fifteen shillings?”
+
+The real reason was that the first lot was not bid for at all, except by
+the proprietor. However, the broker gave her a very different solution;
+he said, “The trade always run up a lady or a gentleman. Let me bid for
+you; they won't run me up; they know better.”
+
+Rosa did not reply, but looked at Mrs. Cole.
+
+“Yes, dear,” said that lady; “you had much better let him bid for you.”
+
+“Very well,” said Rosa; “you can bid for this chest of drawers--lot 25.”
+
+When lot 25 came on, the broker bid in the silliest possible way, if
+his object had been to get a bargain. He began to bid early and
+ostentatiously; the article was protected by somebody or other there
+present, who now of course saw his way clear; he ran it up audaciously,
+and it was purchased for Rosa at about the price it could have been
+bought for at a shop.
+
+The next thing she wanted was a set of oak chairs.
+
+They went up to twenty-eight pounds; then she said, “I shall give no
+more, sir.”
+
+“Better not lose them,” said the agent; “they are a great bargain;” and
+bid another pound for her on his own responsibility.
+
+They were still run up, and Rosa peremptorily refused to give any more.
+She lost them, accordingly, by good luck. Her faithful broker looked
+blank; so did the proprietor.
+
+But, as the sale proceeded, she being young, the competition, though
+most of it sham, being artful and exciting, and the traitor she employed
+constantly puffing every article, she was drawn in to wishing for
+things, and bidding by her feelings.
+
+Then her traitor played a game that has been played a hundred times, and
+the perpetrators never once lynched, as they ought to be, on the spot.
+He signalled a confederate with a hooked nose; the Jew rascal bid
+against the Christian scoundrel, and so they ran up the more enticing
+things to twice their value under the hammer.
+
+Rosa got flushed, and her eye gleamed like a gambler's, and she bought
+away like wildfire. In which sport she caught sight of an old gentleman,
+with little black eyes that kept twinkling at her.
+
+She complained of these eyes to Mrs. Cole. “Why does he twinkle so? I
+can see it is at me. I am doing something foolish--I know I am.”
+
+Mrs. Cole turned, and fixed a haughty stare on the old gentleman. Would
+you believe it? instead of sinking through the floor, he sat his ground,
+and retorted with a cold, clear grin.
+
+But now, whenever Rosa's agent bid for her, and the other man of straw
+against him, the black eyes twinkled, and Rosa's courage began to ooze
+away. At last she said, “That is enough for one day. I shall go. Who
+could bear those eyes?”
+
+The broker took her address; so did the auctioneer's clerk. The
+auctioneer asked her for no deposit; her beautiful, innocent, and
+high-bred face was enough for a man who was always reading faces, and
+interpreting them.
+
+And so they retired.
+
+But this charming sex is like that same auctioneer's hammer, it cannot
+go abruptly. It is always going--going--going--a long time before it is
+gone. I think it would perhaps loiter at the door of a jail, with the
+order of release in its hand, after six years' confinement. Getting up
+to go quenches in it the desire to go. So these ladies having got up to
+go, turned and lingered, and hung fire so long, that at last another set
+of oak chairs came up. “Oh! I must see what these go for,” said Rosa, at
+the door.
+
+The bidding was mighty languid now Rosa's broker was not stimulating
+it; and the auctioneer was just knocking down twelve chairs--oak and
+leather--and two arm-chairs, for twenty pounds, when, casting his eyes
+around, he caught sight of Rosa looking at him rather excited. He looked
+inquiringly at her. She nodded slightly; he knocked them down to her at
+twenty guineas, and they were really a great bargain.
+
+“Twenty-two,” cried the dealer.
+
+“Too late,” said the auctioneer.
+
+“I spoke with the hammer, sir.”
+
+“After the hammer, Isaacs.”
+
+“Shelp me God, we was together.”
+
+One or two more of his tribe confirmed this pious falsehood, and
+clamored to have them put up again.
+
+“Call the next lot,” said the auctioneer, peremptorily. “Make up your
+mind a little quicker next time, Mr. Isaacs; you have been long enough
+at it to know the value of oak and moroccar.”
+
+Mrs. Staines and her friend now started for Morley's Hotel, but went
+round by Regent Street, whereby they got glued at Peter Robinson's
+window, and nine other windows; and it was nearly five o'clock when they
+reached Morley's. As they came near the door of their sitting-room, Mrs.
+Staines heard somebody laughing and talking to her husband. The
+laugh, to her subtle ears, did not sound musical and genial, but keen,
+satirical, unpleasant; so it was with some timidity she opened the door,
+and there sat the old chap with the twinkling eyes. Both parties stared
+at each other a moment.
+
+“Why, it is them,” cried the old gentleman. “Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!”
+
+Rosa colored all over, and felt guilty somehow, and looked miserable.
+
+“Rosa dear,” said Dr. Staines, “this is our Uncle Philip.”
+
+“Oh!” said Rosa, and turned red and pale by turns; for she had a great
+desire to propitiate Uncle Philip.
+
+“You were in the auction-room, sir?” said Mrs. Cole, severely.
+
+“I was, madam. He! he!”
+
+“Furnishing a house?”
+
+“No, ma'am. I go to a dozen sales a week; but it is not to buy--I enjoy
+the humors. Did you ever hear of Robert Burton, ma'am?”
+
+“No. Yes; a great traveller, isn't he? Discovered the Nile--or the
+Niger--or SOMETHING?”
+
+This majestic vagueness staggered old Crusty at first, but he recovered
+his equilibrium, and said, “Why, yes, now I think of it, you are right;
+he has travelled farther than most of us, for about two centuries ago
+he visited that bourn whence no traveller returns. Well, when he was
+alive--he was a student of Christchurch--he used to go down to a certain
+bridge over the Isis and enjoy the chaff of the bargemen. Now there are
+no bargemen left to speak of; the mantle of Bobby Burton's bargees has
+fallen on the Jews and demi-semi-Christians that buy and sell furniture
+at the weekly auctions; thither I repair to hear what little coarse wit
+is left us. Used to go to the House of Commons; but they are getting too
+civil by half for my money. Besides, characters come out in an auction.
+For instance, only this very day I saw two ladies enter, in gorgeous
+attire, like heifers decked for sacrifice, and reduce their spoliation
+to a certainty by employing a broker to bid. Now, what is a broker?
+A fellow who is to be paid a shilling in the pound for all articles
+purchased. What is his interest, then? To buy cheap? Clearly not. He is
+paid in proportion to the dearness of the article.”
+
+Rosa's face began to work piteously.
+
+“Accordingly, what did the broker in question do? He winked to another
+broker, and these two bid against one another, over their victim's head,
+and ran everything she wanted up at least a hundred per cent above the
+value. So open and transparent a swindle I have seldom seen, even in an
+auction-room. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!”
+
+His mirth was interrupted by Rosa going to her husband, hiding her head
+on his shoulder, and meekly crying.
+
+Christopher comforted her like a man. “Don't you cry, darling,” said he;
+“how should a pure creature like you know the badness of the world all
+in a moment? If it is my wife you are laughing at, Uncle Philip, let me
+tell you this is the wrong place. I'd rather a thousand times have her
+as she is, than armed with the cunning and suspicions of a hardened old
+worldling like you.”
+
+“With all my heart,” said Uncle Philip, who, to do him justice, could
+take blows as well as give them; “but why employ a broker? Why pay a
+scoundrel five per cent to make you pay a hundred per cent? Why pay a
+noisy fool a farthing to open his mouth for you when you have taken the
+trouble to be there yourself, and have got a mouth of your own to bid
+discreetly with? Was ever such an absurdity?” He began to get angry.
+
+“Do you want to quarrel with me, Uncle Philip?” said Christopher, firing
+up; “because sneering at my Rosa is the way, and the only way, and the
+sure way.”
+
+“Oh, no,” said Rosa, interposing. “Uncle Philip was right. I am very
+foolish and inexperienced, but I am not so vain as to turn from good
+advice. I will never employ a broker again, sir.”
+
+Uncle Philip smiled and looked pleased.
+
+Mrs. Cole caused a diversion by taking leave, and Rosa followed her
+down-stairs. On her return she found Christopher telling his uncle all
+about the Bijou, and how he had taken it for a hundred and thirty pounds
+a year and a hundred pounds premium, and Uncle Philip staring fearfully.
+
+At last he found his tongue. “The Bijou!” said he. “Why, that is a name
+they gave to a little den in Dear Street, Mayfair. You haven't ever been
+and taken THAT! Built over a mews.”
+
+Christopher groaned. “That is the place, I fear.”
+
+“Why the owner is a friend of mine; an old patient. Stables stunk him
+out. Let it to a man; I forget his name. Stables stunk HIM out. He said,
+'I shall go.' 'You can't,' said my friend; 'you have taken a lease.'
+'Lease be d--d,' said the other; 'I never took YOUR house; here's quite
+a large stench not specified in your description of the property--IT
+CAN'T BE THE SAME PLACE;' flung the lease at his head, and cut like the
+wind to foreign parts less odoriferous. I'd have got you the hole for
+ninety; but you are like your wife--you must go to an agent. What! don't
+you know that an agent is a man acting for you with an interest opposed
+to yours? Employing an agent! it is like a Trojan seeking the aid of
+a Greek. You needn't cry, Mrs. Staines; your husband has been let in
+deeper than you have. Now, you are young people beginning life; I'll
+give you a piece of advice. Employ others to do what you can't do,
+and it must be done; but never to do anything you can do better for
+yourselves! Agent! The word is derived from a Latin word 'agere,' to
+do; and agents act up to their etymology, for they invariably DO the
+nincompoop that employs them, or deals with them, in any mortal way. I'd
+have got you that beastly little Bijou for ninety pounds a year.”
+
+Uncle Philip went away crusty, leaving the young couple finely mortified
+and discouraged.
+
+That did not last very long. Christopher noted the experience and Uncle
+Phil's wisdom in his diary, and then took his wife on his knee, and
+comforted her, and said, “Never mind; experience is worth money, and
+it always has to be bought. Those who cheat us will die poorer than we
+shall, if we are honest and economical. I have observed that people are
+seldom ruined by the vices of others; these may hurt them, of course;
+but it is only their own faults and follies that can destroy them.”
+
+“Ah! Christie,” said Rosa, “you are a man! Oh, the comfort of being
+married to A MAN. A man sees the best side. I do adore men. Dearest, I
+will waste no more of your money. I will go to no more sales.”
+
+Christopher saw she was deeply mortified, and he said, quietly, “On the
+contrary, you will go to the very next. Only take Uncle Philip's advice,
+employ no broker; and watch the prices things fetch when you are not
+bidding; and keep cool.”
+
+She caressed his ears with both her white hands, and thanked him for
+giving her another trial. So that trouble melted in the sunshine of
+conjugal love.
+
+Notwithstanding the agent's solemn assurance, the Bijou was out of
+repair. Dr. Staines detected internal odors, as well as those that
+flowed in from the mews. He was not the man to let his wife perish by
+miasma; so he had the drains all up, and actually found brick drains,
+and a cesspool. He stopped that up, and laid down new pipe drains, with
+a good fall, and properly trapped. The old drains were hidden, after
+the manner of builders. He had the whole course of his new drains marked
+upon all the floors they passed under, and had several stones and boards
+hinged to facilitate examination at any period.
+
+But all this, with the necessary cleaning, whitewashing, painting, and
+papering, ran away with money. Then came Rosa's purchases, which, to her
+amazement, amounted to one hundred and ninety pounds, and not a carpet,
+curtain, or bed amongst the lot. Then there was the carriage home from
+the auction-room, an expense one avoids by buying at a shop, and
+the broker claimed his shilling in the pound. This, however, Staines
+refused. The man came and blustered. Rosa, who was there, trembled.
+Then, for the first time, she saw her husband's brow lower; he seemed
+transfigured, and looked terrible. “You scoundrel,” said he, “you set
+another villain like yourself to bid against you, and you betrayed the
+innocent lady that employed you. I could indict you and your confederate
+for a conspiracy. I take the goods out of respect for my wife's credit,
+but you shall gain nothing by swindling her. Be off, you heartless
+miscreant, or I'll”--
+
+“I'll take the law, if you do.”
+
+“Take it, then! I'll give you something to howl for;” and he seized him
+with a grasp so tremendous that the fellow cried out in dismay, “Oh!
+don't hit me, sir; pray don't.”
+
+On this abject appeal, Staines tore the door open with his left hand,
+and spun the broker out into the passage with his right. Two movements
+of this angry Hercules, and the man was literally whirled out of sight
+with a rapidity and swiftness almost ludicrous; it was like a trick in
+a pantomime. A clatter on the stairs betrayed that he had gone down the
+first few steps in a wholesale and irregular manner, though he had just
+managed to keep his feet.
+
+As for Staines, he stood there still lowering like thunder, and his
+eyes like hot coals; but his wife threw her tender arms around him, and
+begged him consolingly not to mind.
+
+She was trembling like an aspen.
+
+“Dear me,” said Christopher, with a ludicrous change to marked
+politeness and respect, “I forgot YOU, in my righteous indignation.”
+ Next he became uxorious. “Did they frighten her, a duck? Sit on my
+knee, darling, and pull my hair, for not being more considerate--there!
+there!”
+
+This was followed by the whole absurd soothing process, as practised by
+manly husbands upon quivering and somewhat hysterical wives, and ended
+with a formal apology. “You must not think that I am passionate; on the
+contrary, I am always practising self-government. My maxim is, Animum
+rege qui nisi paret imperat, and that means, Make your temper your
+servant, or else it will be your master. But to ill-use my dear little
+wife--it is unnatural, it is monstrous, it makes my blood boil.”
+
+“Oh, dear! don't go into another. It is all over. I can't bear to see
+you in a passion; you are so terrible, so beautiful. Ah! they are fine
+things, courage and strength. There's nothing I admire so much.”
+
+“Why, they are as common as dirt. What I admire is modesty, timidity,
+sweetness; the sensitive cheek that pales or blushes at a word, the
+bosom that quivers, and clings to a fellow whenever anything goes
+wrong.”
+
+“Oh, that is what you admire, is it?” said Rosa dryly.
+
+“Admire it?” said Christopher, not seeing the trap; “I adore it.”
+
+“Then, Christie, dear, you are a Simpleton, that is all. And we are made
+for one another.”
+
+The house was to be furnished and occupied as soon as possible; so Mrs.
+Staines and Mrs. Cole went to another sale-room. Mrs. Staines remembered
+all Uncle Philip had said, and went plainly dressed; but her friend
+declined to sacrifice her showy dress to her friend's interests. Rosa
+thought that a little unkind, but said nothing.
+
+In this auction-room they easily got a place at the table, but did not
+find it heaven; for a number of secondhand carpets were in the sale,
+and these, brimful of dust, were all shown on the table, and the dirt
+choked, and poisoned our fair friends. Brokers pestered them, until at
+last Rosa, smarting under her late exposure, addressed the auctioneer
+quietly, in her silvery tones: “Sir, these gentlemen are annoying me by
+forcing their services on me. I do not intend to buy at all unless I can
+be allowed to bid for myself.”
+
+When Rosa, blushing and amazed at her own boldness, uttered these words,
+she little foresaw their effect. She had touched a popular sore.
+
+“You are quite right, madam,” said a respectable tradesman opposite her.
+“What business have these dirty fellows, without a shilling in their
+pockets, to go and force themselves on a lady against her will?”
+
+“It has been complained of in the papers again and again,” said another.
+
+“What! mayn't we live as well as you?” retorted a broker.
+
+“Yes, but not to force yourself on a lady. Why, she'd give you in charge
+of the police if you tried it on outside.”
+
+Then there was a downright clamor of discussion and chaff.
+
+Presently up rises very slowly a countryman so colossal, that it seemed
+as if he would never have done getting up, and gives his experiences. He
+informed the company, in a broad Yorkshire dialect, that he did a bit
+in furniture, and at first starting these brokers buzzed about him like
+flies, and pestered him. “Aah damned 'em pretty hard,” said he, “but
+they didn't heed any. So then ah spoke 'em civil, and ah said, 'Well,
+lads, I dinna come fra Yorkshire to sit like a dummy and let you buy
+wi' my brass; the first that pesters me again ah'll just fell him on
+t' plaace, like a caulf, and ah'm not very sure he'll get up again in a
+hurry.' So they dropped me like a hot potato; never pestered me again.
+But if they won't give over pestering you, mistress, ah'll come round
+and just stand behind your chair, and bring nieve with me,” showing a
+fist like a leg of mutton.
+
+“No, no,” said the auctioneer, “that will not do. I will have no
+disturbance here. Call the policeman.”
+
+While the clerk went to the door for the bobby, a gentleman reminded
+the auctioneer that the journals had repeatedly drawn attention to the
+nuisance.
+
+“Fault of the public, not mine, sir. Policeman, stand behind that lady's
+chair, and if anybody annoys her put him quietly into the street.”
+
+“This auction-room will be to let soon,” said a voice at the end of the
+table.
+
+“This auction-room,” said the auctioneer, master of the gay or grave at
+a moment's notice, “is supported by the public and the trade; it is not
+supported by paupers.”
+
+A Jew upholsterer put in his word. “I do my own business; but I like to
+let a poor man live.”
+
+“Jonathan,” said the auctioneer to one of his servants, “after this sale
+you may put up the shutters; we have gone and offended Mr. Jacobs. He
+keeps a shop in Blind Alley, Whitechapel. Now then, lot 69.”
+
+Rosa bid timidly for one or two lots, and bought them cheap.
+
+The auctioneer kept looking her way, and she had only to nod.
+
+The obnoxious broker got opposite her, and ran her up a little out of
+spite; but as he had only got half a crown about him, and no means of
+doubling it, he dared not go far.
+
+On the other side of the table was a figure to which Rosa's eyes often
+turned with interest--a fair young boy about twelve years old; he had
+golden hair, and was in deep mourning. His appearance interested Rosa,
+and she wondered how he came there, and why; he looked like a lamb
+wedged in among wolves, a flower among weeds. As the lots proceeded, the
+boy seemed to get uneasy; and at last, when lot '73 was put up, anybody
+could see in his poor little face that he was there to bid for it.
+
+“Lot '73, an armchair covered in morocco. An excellent and useful
+article. Should not be at all surprised if it was made by Gillow.”
+
+“Gillow would though,” said Jacobs, who owed him a turn.
+
+Chorus of dealers.--“Haw! haw!”
+
+The auctioneer.--“I like to hear some people run a lot down; shows they
+are going to bid for it in earnest. Well, name your own price. Five
+pounds to begin?”
+
+Now if nobody had spoken the auctioneer would have gone on, “Well, four
+pounds then--three, two, whatever you like,” and at last obtained a bona
+fide offer of thirty shillings; but the moment he said “Five pounds to
+begin,” the boy in black lifted up his childish treble and bid thus,
+“Five pound ten”--“six pounds”--“six pound ten”--“seven pounds”--“seven
+pound ten”--“eight pounds”--“eight pound ten”--“nine pounds”--“nine
+pound ten”--“ten pounds!” without interruption, and indeed almost in a
+breath.
+
+There was a momentary pause of amazement, and then an outburst of chaff.
+
+“Nice little boy!”
+
+“Didn't he say his lesson well?”
+
+“Favor us with your card, sir. You are a gent as knows how to buy.”
+
+“What did he stop for? If it's worth ten, it is worth a hundred.”
+
+“Bless the child!” said a female dealer, kindly, “what made you go on
+like that? Why, there was no one bid against you! you'd have got it for
+two pounds--a rickety old thing.”
+
+Young master began to whimper. “Why, the gentleman said, 'Five pounds
+to BEGIN.' It was the chair poor grandpapa always sat in, and all the
+things are sold, and mamma said it would break her heart to lose it. She
+was too ill to come, so she sent me. She told me I was not to let it
+be sold away from us for less than ten pounds, or she sh--should be
+m--m--miserable,” and the poor little fellow began to cry. Rosa followed
+suit promptly but unobtrusively.
+
+“Sentiment always costs money,” said Mr. Jacobs, gravely.
+
+“How do you know?” asked Mr. Cohen. “Have YOU got any on hand? I never
+seen none at your shop.”
+
+Some tempting things now came up, and Mrs. Staines bid freely; but
+all of a sudden she looked down the table, and there was Uncle Philip,
+twinkling as before. “Oh, dear! what am I doing now!” thought she. “I
+have got no broker.”
+
+She bid on, but in fear and trembling, because of those twinkling eyes.
+At last she mustered courage, wrote on a leaf of her pocket-book, and
+passed it down to him: “It would be only kind to warn me. What am I
+doing wrong?”
+
+He sent her back a line directly: “Auctioneer running you up himself.
+Follow his eye when he bids; you will see there is no bona fide bidder
+at your prices.”
+
+Rosa did so, and found that it was true.
+
+She nodded to Uncle Philip; and, with her expressive face, asked him
+what she should do.
+
+The old boy must have his joke. So he wrote back: “Tell him, as you see
+he has a fancy for certain articles, you would not be so discourteous as
+to bid against him.”
+
+The next article but one was a drawing-room suite Rosa wanted; but the
+auctioneer bid against her; so at eighteen pounds she stopped.
+
+“It is against you, madam,” said the auctioneer.
+
+“Yes, sir,” said Rosa; “but as you are the only bidder, and you have
+been so kind to me, I would not think of opposing you.”
+
+The words were scarcely out of her mouth, when they were greeted with
+a roar of Homeric laughter that literally shook the room, and this time
+not at the expense of the innocent speaker.
+
+“That's into your mutton, governor.”
+
+“Sharp's the word this time.”
+
+“I say, governor, don't you want a broker to bid for ye?”
+
+“Wink at me next time, sir; I'll do the office for you.”
+
+“No greenhorns left now.”
+
+“That lady won't give a ten-pund note for her grandfather's armchair.”
+
+“Oh, yes, she will, if it's stuffed with banknotes.”
+
+“Put the next lot up with the owner's name and the reserve price. Open
+business.”
+
+“And sing a psalm at starting.”
+
+“A little less noise in Judaea, if you please,” said the auctioneer, who
+had now recovered from the blow. “Lot 97.”
+
+This was a very pretty marqueterie cabinet; it stood against the wall,
+and Rosa had set her heart upon it. Nobody would bid. She had muzzled
+the auctioneer effectually.
+
+“Your own price.”
+
+“Two pounds,” said Rosa.
+
+A dealer offered guineas; and it advanced slowly to four pounds and half
+a crown, at which it was about to be knocked down to Rosa, when suddenly
+a new bidder arose in the broker Rosa had rejected. They bid slowly and
+sturdily against each other, until a line was given to Rosa from Uncle
+Philip.
+
+“This time it is your own friend, the snipe-nosed woman. She telegraphed
+a broker.”
+
+Rosa read, and crushed the note. “Six guineas,” said she.
+
+“Six-ten.”
+
+“Seven.”
+
+“Seven-ten.”
+
+“Eight.”
+
+“Eight-ten.”
+
+“Ten guineas,” said Rosa; and then, with feminine cunning, stealing a
+sudden glance, caught her friend leaning back and signalling the broker
+not to give in.
+
+“Eleven pounds.”
+
+“Twelve.”
+
+“Thirteen.”
+
+“Fourteen.”
+
+“Sixteen.”
+
+“Eighteen.”
+
+“Twenty.”
+
+“Twenty guineas.”
+
+“It is yours, my faithful friend,” said Rosa, turning suddenly round
+to Mrs. Cole, with a magnificent glance no one would have thought her
+capable of.
+
+Then she rose and stalked away.
+
+Dumfounded for the moment, Mrs. Cole followed her, and stopped her at
+the door.
+
+“Why, Rosie dear, it is the only thing I have bid for. There I've sat by
+your side like a mouse.”
+
+Rosa turned gravely towards her. “You know it is not that. You had only
+to tell me you wanted it. I would never have been so mean as to bid
+against you.”
+
+“Mean, indeed!” said. Florence, tossing her head.
+
+“Yes, mean; to draw back and hide behind the friend you were with,
+and employ the very rogue she had turned off. But it is my own fault.
+Cecilia warned me against you. She always said you were a treacherous
+girl.”
+
+“And I say you are an impudent little minx. Only just married, and going
+about like two vagabonds, and talk to me like that!”
+
+“We are not going about like two vagabonds. We have taken a house in
+Mayfair.”
+
+“Say a stable.”
+
+“It was by your advice, you false-hearted creature.”
+
+“You are a fool.”
+
+“You are worse; you are a traitress.”
+
+“Then don't you have anything to do with me.”
+
+“Heaven forbid I should, you treacherous thing!”
+
+“You insolent--insolent--I hate you.”
+
+“And I despise you.”
+
+“I always hated you at bottom.”
+
+“That's why you pretended to love me, you wretch.”
+
+“Well, I pretend no more. I am your enemy for life.”
+
+“Thank you. You have told the truth for once in your life.”
+
+“I have. And he shall never call in your husband; so you may leave
+Mayfair as soon as you like.”
+
+“Not to please you, madam. We can get on without traitors.”
+
+And so they parted, with eyes that gleamed like tigers.
+
+Rosa drove home in great agitation, and tried to tell Christopher; but
+choked, and became hysterical. The husband-physician coaxed and scolded
+her out of that; and presently in came Uncle Philip, full of the humors
+of the auction-room. He told about the little boy with a delight that
+disgusted Mrs. Staines, and then was particularly merry on female
+friendships. “Fancy a man going to a sale with his friend, and bidding
+against him on the sly.”
+
+“She is no friend of mine. We are enemies for life.”
+
+“And you were to be friends till death,” said Staines, with a sigh.
+
+Philip inquired who she was.
+
+“Mrs. John Cole.”
+
+“Not of Curzon Street?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“And you have quarrelled with her?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Well, but her husband is a general practitioner.”
+
+“She is a traitress.”
+
+“But her husband could put a good deal of money in Christopher's way.”
+
+“I can't help it. She is a traitress.”
+
+“And you have quarrelled with her about an old wardrobe.”
+
+“No, for her disloyalty, and her base good-for-nothingness. Oh! oh! oh!”
+
+Uncle Philip got up, looking sour. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Christopher,”
+ said he, very dryly.
+
+Christopher accompanied him to the foot of the stairs. “Well,
+Christopher,” said he, “matrimony is a blunder at the best; and you have
+not done the thing by halves. You have married a simpleton. She will be
+your ruin.”
+
+“Uncle Philip, since you only come here to insult us, I hope in future
+you will stay at home.”
+
+“Oh! with pleasure, sir. Good-by!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Christopher Staines came back, looking pained and disturbed. “There,”
+ said he, “I feared it would come to this. I have quarrelled with Uncle
+Philip.”
+
+“Oh! how could you?”
+
+“He affronted me.”
+
+“What about?”
+
+“Never you mind. Don't let us say anything more about it, darling. It is
+a pity, a sad pity--he was a good friend of mine once.”
+
+He paused, entered what had passed in his diary, and then sat down, with
+a gentle expression of sadness on his manly features. Rosa hung about
+him, soft and pitying, till it cleared away, at all events for the time.
+
+Next day they went together to clear the goods Rosa had purchased.
+Whilst the list was being made out in the office, in came the
+fair-haired boy, with a ten-pound note in his very hand. Rosa caught
+sight of it, and turned to the auctioneer, with a sweet, pitying face:
+
+“Oh! sir, surely you will not take all that money from him, poor child,
+for a rickety old chair.”
+
+The auctioneer stared with amazement at her simplicity, and said, “What
+would the vendors say to me?”
+
+She looked distressed, and said, “Well, then, really we ought to raise a
+subscription, poor thing!”
+
+“Why, ma'am,” said the auctioneer, “he isn't hurt: the article belonged
+to his mother and her sister; the brother-in-law isn't on good terms;
+so he demanded a public sale. She will get back four pun ten out of it.”
+ Here the clerk put in his word. “And there's five pounds paid, I forgot
+to tell you.”
+
+“Oh! left a deposit, did he?”
+
+“No, sir. But the laughing hyena gave you five pounds at the end of the
+sale.”
+
+“The laughing hyena, Mr. Jones?”
+
+“Oh! beg pardon; that is what we call him in the room. He has got such a
+curious laugh.”
+
+“Oh! I know the gent. He is a retired doctor. I wish he'd laugh less
+and buy more: and HE gave you five pounds towards the young gentleman's
+arm-chair! Well, I should as soon have expected blood from a flint. You
+have got five pounds to pay, sir: so now the chair will cost your mamma
+ten shillings. Give him the order and the change, Mr. Jones.”
+
+Christopher and Rosa talked this over in the room whilst the men were
+looking out their purchases. “Come,” said Rosa; “now I forgive him
+sneering at me; his heart is not really hard, you see.” Staines, on the
+contrary, was very angry. “What!” he cried, “pity a boy who made one
+bad bargain, that, after all, was not a very bad bargain; and he had no
+kindness, nor even common humanity, for my beautiful Rosa, inexperienced
+as a child, and buying for her husband, like a good, affectionate,
+honest creature, amongst a lot of sharpers and hard-hearted cynics--like
+himself.”
+
+“It WAS cruel of him,” said Rosa, altering her mind in a moment, and
+half inclined to cry.
+
+This made Christopher furious. “The ill-natured, crotchety, old--the
+fact is, he is a misogynist.”
+
+“Oh, the wretch!” said Rosa warmly. “And what is that?”
+
+“A woman-hater.”
+
+“Oh! is that all? Why, so do I--after that Florence Cole. Women are
+mean, heartless things. Give me men; they are loyal and true.”
+
+“All of them?” inquired Christopher, a little satirically. “Read the
+papers.”
+
+“Every soul of them,” said Mrs. Staines, passing loftily over the
+proposed test. “That is, all the ones I care about; and that is my own,
+own one.”
+
+Disagreeable creatures to have about one--these simpletons!
+
+Mrs. Staines took Christopher to shops to buy the remaining requisites:
+and in three days more the house was furnished, two female servants
+engaged, and the couple took their luggage over to the Bijou.
+
+Rosa was excited and happy at the novelty of possession and authority,
+and that close sense of house proprietorship which belongs to woman. By
+dinner-time she could have told you how many shelves there were in every
+cupboard, and knew the Bijou by heart in a way that Christopher never
+knew it. All this ended, as running about and excitement generally does,
+with my lady being exhausted, and lax with fatigue. So then he made her
+lie down on a little couch, while he went through his accounts.
+
+When he had examined all the bills carefully he looked very grave, and
+said, “Who would believe this? We began with three thousand pounds. It
+was to last us several years--till I got a good practice. Rosa, there is
+only fourteen hundred and forty pounds left.”
+
+“Oh, impossible!” said Rosa. “Oh, dear! why did I ever enter a
+saleroom?”
+
+“No, no, my darling; you were bitten once or twice, but you made some
+good bargains too. Remember there was four hundred pounds set apart for
+my life policy.”
+
+“What a waste of money!”
+
+“Your father did not think so. Then the lease; the premium; repairs of
+the drains that would have poisoned my Rosa; turning the coach-house
+into a dispensary; painting, papering, and furnishing; china, and linen,
+and everything to buy. We must look at this seriously. Only fourteen
+hundred and forty pounds left. A slow profession. No friends. I have
+quarrelled with Uncle Philip: you with Mrs. Cole; and her husband would
+have launched me.”
+
+“And it was to please her we settled here. Oh, I could kill her: nasty
+cat!”
+
+“Never mind; it is not a case for despondency, but it is for prudence.
+All we have to do is to look the thing in the face, and be very
+economical in everything. I had better give you an allowance for
+housekeeping; and I earnestly beg you to buy things yourself whilst you
+are a poor man's wife, and pay ready money for everything. My mother was
+a great manager, and she always said, 'There is but one way: be your own
+market-woman, and pay on the spot; never let the tradesmen get you on
+their books, or, what with false weight, double charges, and the things
+your servants order that never enter the house, you lose more than a
+hundred a year by cheating.'”
+
+Rosa yielded a languid assent to this part of his discourse, and it
+hardly seemed to enter her mind; but she raised no objection; and in due
+course he made her a special allowance for housekeeping.
+
+It soon transpired that medical advice was to be had, gratis, at the
+Bijou, from eight till ten: and there was generally a good attendance.
+But a week passed, and not one patient came of the class this couple
+must live by. Christopher set this down to what people call “the
+transition period:” his Kent patients had lost him; his London patients
+not found him. He wrote to all his patients in the country, and many of
+his pupils at the university, to let them know where he was settled: and
+then he waited.
+
+Not a creature came.
+
+Rosa bore this very well for a time, so long as the house was a novelty;
+but when that excitement was worn out, she began to be very dull,
+and used to come and entice him out to walk with her: he would look
+wistfully at her, but object that, if he left the house, he should be
+sure to lose a patient.
+
+“Oh, they won't come any more for our staying in--tiresome things!” said
+Rosa.
+
+But Christopher would kiss her, and remain firm. “My love,” said he,
+“you do not realize how hard a fight there is before us. How should you?
+You are very young. No, for your sake, I must not throw a chance away.
+Write to your female friends: that will while away an hour or two.”
+
+“What, after that Florence Cole?”
+
+“Write to those who have not made such violent professions.”
+
+“So I will, dear. Especially to those that are married and come to
+London. Oh, and I'll write to that cold-blooded thing, Lady Cicely
+Treherne. Why do you shake your head?”
+
+“Did I? I was not aware. Well, dear, if ladies of rank were to come
+here, I fear they might make you discontented with your lot.”
+
+“All the women on earth could not do that. However, the chances are she
+will not come near me: she left the school quite a big girl, an immense
+girl, when I was only twelve. She used to smile at my capriccios; and
+once she kissed me--actually. She was an awful Sawny, though, and so
+affected: I think I will write to her.”
+
+These letters brought just one lady, a Mrs. Turner, who talked to Rosa
+very glibly about herself, and amused Rosa twice: at the third visit,
+Rosa tried to change the conversation. Mrs. Turner instantly got up, and
+went away. She could not bear the sound of the human voice, unless it
+was talking about her and her affairs.
+
+And now Staines began to feel downright uneasy. Income was going
+steadily out: not a shilling coming in. The lame, the blind, and the
+sick frequented his dispensary, and got his skill out of him gratis, and
+sometimes a little physic, a little wine, and other things that cost him
+money: but of the patients that pay, not one came to his front door.
+
+He walked round and round his little yard, like a hyena in its cage,
+waiting, waiting, waiting: and oh! how he envied the lot of those who
+can hunt for work, instead of having to stay at home and wait for others
+to come, whose will they cannot influence. His heart began to sicken
+with hope deferred, and dim forebodings of the future; and he saw, with
+grief, that his wife was getting duller and duller, and that her days
+dragged more heavily, far than his own; for he could study.
+
+At last his knocker began to show signs of life: his visitors were
+physicians. His lectures on “Diagnosis” were well known to them; and one
+after another found him out. They were polite, kind, even friendly; but
+here it ended: these gentlemen, of course, did not resign their patients
+to him; and the inferior class of practitioners avoided his door like a
+pestilence.
+
+Mrs. Staines, who had always lived for amusement, could strike out no
+fixed occupation; her time hung like lead; the house was small; and in
+small houses the faults of servants run against the mistress, and she
+can't help seeing them, and all the worse for her. It is easier to keep
+things clean in the country, and Rosa had a high standard, which her two
+servants could never quite attain. This annoyed her, and she began to
+scold a little. They answered civilly, but in other respects remained
+imperfect beings; they laid out every shilling they earned in finery;
+and, this, I am ashamed to say, irritated Mrs. Staines, who was wearing
+out her wedding garments, and had no excuse for buying, and Staines
+had begged her to be economical. The more they dressed, the more she
+scolded; they began to answer. She gave the cook warning; the other,
+though not on good terms with the cook, had a gush of esprit de corps
+directly, and gave Mrs. Staines warning.
+
+Mrs. Staines told her husband all this: he took her part, though without
+openly interfering; and they had two new servants, not so good as the
+last.
+
+This worried Rosa sadly; but it was a flea-bite to the deeper nature,
+and more forecasting mind of her husband, still doomed to pace that
+miserable yard, like a hyena, chafing, seeking, longing for the patient
+that never came.
+
+Rosa used to look out of his dressing-room window, and see him pace the
+yard. At first, tears of pity stood in her eyes. By and by she got angry
+with the world; and at last, strange to say, a little irritated with
+him. It is hard for a weak woman to keep up all her respect for the man
+that fails.
+
+One day, after watching him a long time unseen, she got excited, put on
+her shawl and bonnet, and ran down to him: she took him by the arm:
+“If you love me, come out of this prison, and walk with me; we are too
+miserable. I shall be your first patient if this goes on much longer.”
+ He looked at her, saw she was very excited, and had better be humored;
+so he kissed her and just said, with a melancholy smile, “How poor are
+they that have not patience!” Then he put on his hat, and walked in the
+Park and Kensington Gardens with her. The season was just beginning.
+There were carriages enough, and gay Amazons enough, to make poor Rosa
+sigh more than once.
+
+Christopher heard the sigh; and pressed her arm, and said, “Courage,
+love, I hope to see you among them yet.”
+
+“The sooner the better,” said she, a little hardly.
+
+“And, meantime, which of them all is as beautiful as you?”
+
+“All I know is, they are more attractive. Who looks at me, walking
+tamely by?”
+
+Christopher said nothing: but these words seemed to imply a thirst for
+admiration, and made him a little uneasy.
+
+By and by the walk put the swift-changing Rosa in spirits, and she began
+to chat gayly, and hung prattling and beaming on her husband's arm,
+when they entered Curzon Street. Here, however, occurred an incident,
+trifling in itself, but unpleasant. Dr. Staines saw one of his best
+Kentish patients get feebly out of his carriage, and call on Dr. Barr.
+He started, and stopped. Rosa asked what was the matter. He told her.
+She said, “We ARE unfortunate.”
+
+Staines said nothing; he only quickened his pace; but he was greatly
+disturbed. She expected him to complain that she had dragged him out,
+and lost him that first chance. But he said nothing. When they got home,
+he asked the servant had anybody called.
+
+“No, Sir.”
+
+“Surely you are mistaken, Jane. A gentleman in a carriage!”
+
+“Not a creature have been since you went out, sir.”
+
+“Well, then, dearest,” said he sweetly, “we have nothing to reproach
+ourselves with.” Then he knit his brow gloomily. “It is worse than I
+thought. It seems even one's country patients go to another doctor when
+they visit London. It is hard. It is hard.”
+
+Rosa leaned her head on his shoulder, and curled round him, as one she
+would shield against the world's injustice; but she said nothing; she
+was a little frightened at his eye that lowered, and his noble frame
+that trembled a little, with ire suppressed.
+
+Two days after this, a brougham drove up to the door, and a tallish,
+fattish, pasty-faced man got out, and inquired for Dr. Staines.
+
+He was shown into the dining-room, and told Jane he had come to consult
+the doctor.
+
+Rosa had peeped over the stairs, all curiosity; she glided noiselessly
+down, and with love's swift foot got into the yard before Jane. “He is
+come! he is come! Kiss me.”
+
+Dr. Staines kissed her first, and then asked who was come.
+
+“Oh, nobody of any consequence. ONLY the first patient. Kiss me again.”
+
+Dr. Staines kissed her again, and then was for going to the first
+patient.
+
+“No,” said she; “not yet. I met a doctor's wife at Dr. Mayne's, and she
+told me things. You must always keep them waiting; or else they think
+nothing of you. Such a funny woman! 'Treat 'em like dogs, my dear,' she
+said. But I told her they wouldn't come to be treated like dogs or any
+other animal.”
+
+“You had better have kept that to yourself, I think.”
+
+“Oh! if you are going to be disagreeable, good-by. You can go to your
+patient, sir. Christie, dear, if he is very--very ill--and I'm sure I
+hope he is--oh, how wicked I am; may I have a new bonnet?”
+
+“If you really want one.”
+
+On the patient's card was “Mr. Pettigrew, 47 Manchester Square.”
+
+As soon as Staines entered the room, the first patient told him who and
+what he was, a retired civilian from India; but he had got a son there
+still, a very rising man; wanted to be a parson; but he would not
+stand that; bad profession; don't rise by merit; very hard to rise at
+all;--no, India was the place. “As for me, I made my fortune there in
+ten years. Obliged to leave it now--invalid this many years; no TONE.
+Tried two or three doctors in this neighborhood; heard there was a new
+one, had written a book on something. Thought I would try HIM.”
+
+To stop him, Staines requested to feel his pulse, and examine his tongue
+and eye.
+
+“You are suffering from indigestion,” said he. “I will write you a
+prescription; but if you want to get well, you must simplify your diet
+very much.”
+
+While he was writing the prescription, off went this patient's tongue,
+and ran through the topics of the day and into his family history again.
+
+Staines listened politely. He could afford it, having only this one.
+
+At last, the first patient, having delivered an octavo volume of
+nothing, rose to go; but it seems that speaking an “infinite deal of
+nothing” exhausts the body, though it does not affect the mind; for the
+first patient sank down in his chair again. “I have excited myself too
+much--feel rather faint.”
+
+Staines saw no signs of coming syncope; he rang the bell quietly, and
+ordered a decanter of sherry to be brought; the first patient filled
+himself a glass; then another; and went off, revived, to chatter
+elsewhere. But at the door he said, “I had always a running account with
+Dr. Mivar. I suppose you don't object to that system. Double fee the
+first visit, single afterwards.”
+
+Dr. Staines bowed a little stiffly; he would have preferred the money.
+However, he looked at the Blue Book, and found his visitor lived at 47
+Manchester Square; so that removed his anxiety.
+
+The first patient called every other day, chattered nineteen to the
+dozen, was exhausted, drank two glasses of sherry, and drove away.
+
+Soon after this a second patient called. This one was a deputy
+patient--Collett, a retired butler--kept a lodging-house, and waited at
+parties; he lived close by, but had a married daughter in Chelsea. Would
+the doctor visit her, and HE would be responsible?
+
+Staines paid the woman a visit or two, and treated her so effectually,
+that soon her visits were paid to him. She was cured, and Staines, who
+by this time wanted to see money, sent to Collett.
+
+Collett did not answer.
+
+Staines wrote warmly.
+
+Collett dead silent.
+
+Staines employed a solicitor.
+
+Collett said he had recommended the patient, that was all. He had never
+said he would pay her debts. That was her husband's business.
+
+Now her husband was the mate of a ship; would not be in England for
+eighteen months.
+
+The woman, visited by lawyer's clerk, cried bitterly, and said she and
+her children had scarcely enough to eat.
+
+Lawyer advised Staines to abandon the case, and pay him two pounds
+fifteen shillings expenses. He did so.
+
+“This is damnable,” said he. “I must get it out of Pettigrew; by-the-by,
+he has not been here this two days.”
+
+He waited another day for Pettigrew, and then wrote to him. No answer.
+Called. Pettigrew gone abroad. House in Manchester Square to let.
+
+Staines went to the house-agent with his tale. Agent was impenetrable
+at first; but, at last, won by the doctor's manner and his unhappiness,
+referred him to Pettigrew's solicitor; the solicitor was a respectable
+man, and said he would forward the claim to Pettigrew in Paris.
+
+But by this time Pettigrew was chattering and guzzling in Berlin; and
+thence he got to St. Petersburg. In that stronghold of gluttony,
+he gormandized more than ever, and, being unable to talk it off his
+stomach, as in other cities, had apoplexy, and died.
+
+But long before this Staines saw his money was as irrecoverable as his
+sherry; and he said to Rosa, “I wonder whether I shall ever live to
+curse the human race?”
+
+“Heaven forbid!” said Rosa. “Oh, they use you cruelly, my poor, poor
+Christie!”
+
+Thus for months the young doctor's patients bled him, and that was all.
+
+And Rosa got more and more moped at being in the house so much, and
+pestered Christopher to take her out, and he declined: and, being a man
+hard to beat, took to writing on medical subjects, in hopes of getting
+some money from the various medical and scientific publications; but he
+found it as hard to get the wedge in there as to get patients.
+
+At last Rosa's remonstrances began to rise into something that
+sounded like reproaches. One Sunday she came to him in her bonnet, and
+interrupted his studies, to say he might as well lay down the pen, and
+talk. Nobody would publish anything he wrote.
+
+Christopher frowned, but contained himself, and laid down the pen.
+
+“I might as well not be married at all as be a doctor's wife. You are
+never seen out with me, not even to church. Do behave like a Christian,
+and come to church with me now.”
+
+Dr. Staines shook his head.
+
+“Why, I wouldn't miss church for all the world. Any excitement is better
+than always moping. Come over the water with me. The time Jane and I
+went, the clergyman read a paper that Mr. Brown had fallen down in a
+fit. There was such a rush directly, and I'm sure fifty ladies went
+out--fancy, all Mrs. Browns! Wasn't that fun?”
+
+“Fun? I don't see it. Well, Rosa, your mind is evidently better adapted
+to diversion than mine is. Go you to church, love, and I'll continue my
+studies.”
+
+“Then all I can say is, I wish I was back in my father's house. Husband!
+friend! companion!--I have none.”
+
+Then she burst out crying violently; and, being shocked at what she had
+said, and at the agony it had brought into her husband's face, she went
+off into hysterics; and as his heart would not let him bellow at her,
+or empty a bucket on her as he would on another patient, she had a good
+long bout of them: and got her way, for she broke up his studies for
+that day, at all events.
+
+Even after the hysterics were got under, she continued to moan and sigh
+very prettily, with her lovely, languid head pillowed on her husband's
+arm; in a word, though the hysterics were real, yet this innocent young
+person had the presence of mind to postpone entire convalescence, and
+lay herself out to be petted all day. But fate willed it otherwise:
+while she was sighing and moaning, came to the door a scurrying of feet,
+and then a sharp, persistent ringing that meant something. The moaner
+cocked eye and ear, and said, in her every-day voice, which, coming so
+suddenly, sounded very droll, “What is that, I wonder?”
+
+Jane hurried to the street-door, and Rosa recovered by magic; and,
+preferring gossip to hysterics, in an almost gleeful whisper, ordered
+Christopher to open the door of the study. The Bijou was so small that
+the following dialogue rang in their ears:--
+
+A boy in buttons gasped out, “Oh, if you please, will you ast the doctor
+to come round directly; there's a haccident.”
+
+“La, bless me!” said Jane, and never budged.
+
+“Yes, miss. It's our missus's little girl fallen right off an i-chair,
+and cut her head dreadful, and smothered in blood.”
+
+“La, to be sure!” And she waited steadily for more.
+
+“Ay, and missus she fainted right off; and I've been to the regler
+doctor, which he's out; and Sarah, the housemaid, said I had better come
+here; you was only just set up, she said; you wouldn't have so much to
+do, says she.”
+
+“That is all SHE knows,” said Jane. “Why, our master--they pulls him in
+pieces which is to have him fust.”
+
+“What an awful liar! Oh, you good girl!” whispered Dr. Staines and Rosa
+in one breath.
+
+“Ah, well,” said Buttons, “any way, Sarah says she knows you are clever,
+'cos her little girl as lives with her mother, and calls Sarah aunt, has
+bin to your 'spensary with ringworm, and you cured her right off.”
+
+“Ay, and a good many more,” said Jane, loftily. She was a housemaid of
+imagination; and while Staines was putting some lint and an instrument
+case into his pocket, she proceeded to relate a number of miraculous
+cures. Dr. Staines interrupted them by suddenly emerging, and inviting
+Buttons to take him to the house.
+
+Mrs. Staines was so pleased with Jane for cracking up the doctor, that
+she gave her five shillings; and, after that, used to talk to her a
+great deal more than to the cook, which judicious conduct presently set
+all three by the ears.
+
+Buttons took the doctor to a fine house in the same street, and told
+him his mistress's name on the way--Mrs. Lucas. He was taken up to the
+nursery, and found Mrs. Lucas seated, crying and lamenting, and a woman
+holding a little girl of about seven, whose brow had been cut open by
+the fender, on which she had fallen from a chair; it looked very ugly,
+and was even now bleeding.
+
+Dr. Staines lost no time; he examined the wound keenly, and then said
+kindly to Mrs. Lucas, “I am happy to tell you it is not serious.” He
+then asked for a large basin and some tepid water, and bathed it so
+softly and soothingly that the child soon became composed; and the
+mother discovered the artist at once. He compressed the wound, and
+explained to Mrs. Lucas that the principal thing really was to avoid an
+ugly scar. “There is no danger,” said he. He then bound the wound
+neatly up, and had the girl put to bed. “You will not wake her at any
+particular hour, nurse. Let her sleep. Have a little strong beef-tea
+ready, and give it her at any hour, night or day, she asks for it. But
+do not force it on her, or you will do her more harm than good. She had
+better sleep before she eats.”
+
+Mrs. Lucas begged him to come every morning; and, as he was going,
+she shook hands with him, and the soft palm deposited a hard substance
+wrapped in paper. He took it with professional gravity and seeming
+unconsciousness; but, once outside the house, went home on wings. He
+ran up to the drawing-room, and found his wife seated, and playing at
+reading. He threw himself on his knees, and the fee into her lap; and,
+while she unfolded the paper with an ejaculation of pleasure, he said,
+“Darling, the first real patient--the first real fee. It is yours to buy
+the new bonnet.”
+
+“Oh, I'm so glad!” said she, with her eyes glistening. “But I'm afraid
+one can't get a bonnet fit to wear--for a guinea.”
+
+Dr. Staines visited his little patient every day, and received his
+guinea. Mrs. Lucas also called him in for her own little ailments, and
+they were the best possible kind of ailments: for, being imaginary,
+there was no limit to them.
+
+Then did Mrs. Staines turn jealous of her husband. “They never ask me,”
+ said she; “and I am moped to death.”
+
+“It is hard,” said Christopher, sadly. “But have a little patience.
+Society will come to you long before practice comes to me.”
+
+About two o'clock one afternoon a carriage and pair drove up, and a
+gorgeous footman delivered a card--“Lady Cicely Treherne.”
+
+Of course Mrs. Staines was at home, and only withheld by propriety
+from bounding into the passage to meet her school-fellow. However, she
+composed herself in the drawing-room, and presently the door was opened,
+and a very tall young woman, richly but not gayly dressed, drifted into
+the room, and stood there a statue of composure.
+
+Rosa had risen to fly to her; but the reverence a girl of eighteen
+strikes into a child of twelve hung about her still, and she came
+timidly forward, blushing and sparkling, a curious contrast in color
+and mind to her visitor; for Lady Cicely was Languor in person--her hair
+whitey-brown, her face a fine oval, but almost colorless; her eyes
+a pale gray, her neck and hands incomparably white and beautiful--a
+lymphatic young lady, a live antidote to emotion. However, Rosa's
+beauty, timidity, and undisguised affectionateness were something so
+different from what she was used to in the world of fashion, that she
+actually smiled, and held out both her hands a little way. Rosa seized
+them, and pressed them; they left her; and remained passive and limp.
+
+“O Lady Cicely,” said Rosa, “how kind of you to come.”
+
+“How kind of you to send to me,” was the polite, but perfectly cool
+reply. “But how you are gwown, and--may I say impwoved?--You la petite
+Lusignan! It is incwedible,” lisped her ladyship, very calmly.
+
+“I was only a child,” said Rosa. “You were always so beautiful and tall,
+and kind to a little monkey like me. Oh, pray sit down, Lady Cicely, and
+talk of old times.”
+
+She drew her gently to the sofa, and they sat down hand in hand; but
+Lady Cicely's high-bred reserve made her a very poor gossip about
+anything that touched herself and her family; so Rosa, though no
+egotist, was drawn into talking about herself more than she would have
+done had she deliberately planned the conversation. But here was an old
+school-fellow, and a singularly polite listener, and so out came her
+love, her genuine happiness, her particular griefs, and especially the
+crowning grievance, no society, moped to death, etc.
+
+Lady Cicely could hardly understand the sentiment in a woman who so
+evidently loved her husband. “Society!” said she, after due reflection,
+“why, it is a boa.” (And here I may as well explain that Lady Cicely
+spoke certain words falsely, and others affectedly; and as for the
+letter r, she could say it if she made a hearty effort, but was
+generally too lazy to throw her leg over it.) “Society! I'm dwenched
+to death with it. If I could only catch fiah like other women, and
+love somebody, I would much rather have a tete-a-tete with him than
+go teawing about all day and all night, from one unintwisting cwowd
+to another. To be sure,” said she, puzzling the matter out, “you are a
+beauty, and would be more looked at.”
+
+“The idea! and--oh no! no! it is not that. But even in the country we
+had always some society.”
+
+“Well, dyar, believe me, with your appeawance, you can have as much
+society as you please; but it will boa you to death, as it does me, and
+then you will long to be left quiet with a sensible man who loves you.”
+
+Said Rosa, “When shall I have another tete-a-tete with YOU, I wonder?
+Oh, it has been such a comfort to me. Bless you for coming. There--I
+wrote to Cecilia, and Emily, and Mrs. Bosanquet that is now, and all my
+sworn friends, and to think of you being the one to come--you that never
+kissed me but once, and an earl's daughter into the bargain.”
+
+“Ha! ha! ha!”--Lady Cicely actually laughed for once in a way, and did
+not feel the effort. “As for kissing,” said she, “if I fall shawt,
+fawgive me. I was nevaa vewy demonstwative.”
+
+“No; and I have had a lesson. That Florence Cole--Florence Whiting that
+was, you know--was always kissing me, and she has turned out a traitor.
+I'll tell you all about her.” And she did.
+
+Lady Cicely thought Mrs. Staines a little too unreserved in her
+conversation; but was so charmed with her sweetness and freshness that
+she kept up the acquaintance, and called on her twice a week during the
+season. At first she wondered that her visits were not returned; but
+Rosa let out that she was ashamed to call on foot in Grosvenor Square.
+
+Lady Cicely shrugged her beautiful shoulders a little at that; but she
+continued to do the visiting, and to enjoy the simple, innocent rapture
+with which she was received.
+
+This lady's pronunciation of many words was false or affected. She
+said “good murning” for “good morning,” and turned other vowels to
+diphthongs, and played two or three pranks with her “r's.” But we cannot
+be all imperfection: with her pronunciation her folly came to a full
+stop. I really believe she lisped less nonsense and bad taste in a year
+than some of us articulate in a day. To be sure, folly is generally
+uttered in a hurry, and she was too deplorably lazy to speak fast on any
+occasion whatever.
+
+One day Mrs. Staines took her up-stairs, and showed her from the back
+window her husband pacing the yard, waiting for patients. Lady Cicely
+folded her arms, and contemplated him at first with a sort of zoological
+curiosity. Gentleman pacing back yard, like hyena, she had never seen
+before.
+
+At last she opened her mouth in a whisper, “What is he doing?”
+
+“Waiting for patients.”
+
+“Oh! Waiting--for--patients?”
+
+“For patients that never come, and never will come.”
+
+“Cuwious! How little I know of life.”
+
+“It is that all day, dear, or else writing.”
+
+Lady Cicely, with her eyes fixed on Staines, made a motion with her hand
+that she was attending.
+
+“And they won't publish a word he writes.”
+
+“Poor man!”
+
+“Nice for me; is it not?”
+
+“I begin to understand,” said Lady Cicely quietly; and soon after
+retired with her invariable composure.
+
+Meantime, Dr. Staines, like a good husband, had thrown out occasional
+hints to Mrs. Lucas that he had a wife, beautiful, accomplished, moped.
+More than that, he went so far as to regret to her that Mrs. Staines,
+being in a neighborhood new to him, saw so little society; the more so,
+as she was formed to shine, and had not been used to seclusion.
+
+All these hints fell dead on Mrs. Lucas. A handsome and skilful doctor
+was welcome to her: his wife--that was quite another matter.
+
+But one day Mrs. Lucas saw Lady Cicely Treherne's carriage standing at
+the door. The style of the whole turnout impressed her. She wondered
+whose it was.
+
+On another occasion she saw it drive up, and the lady get out. She
+recognized her; and the very next day this parvenue said adroitly, “Now,
+Dr. Staines, really you can't be allowed to hide your wife in this way.
+(Staines stared.) Why not introduce her to me next Wednesday? It is my
+night. I would give a dinner expressly for her; but I don't like to do
+that while my husband is in Naples.”
+
+When Staines carried the invitation to his wife, she was delighted, and
+kissed him with childish frankness.
+
+But the very next moment she became thoughtful, uneasy, depressed. “Oh,
+dear; I've nothing to wear.”
+
+“Oh, nonsense, Rosa. Your wedding outfit.”
+
+“The idea! I can't go as a bride. It's not a masquerade.”
+
+“But you have other dresses.”
+
+“All gone by, more or less; or not fit for such parties as SHE gives. A
+hundred carriages!”
+
+“Bring them down, and let me see them.”
+
+“Oh yes.” And the lady, who had nothing to wear, paraded a very fair
+show of dresses.
+
+Staines saw something to admire in all of them. Mrs. Staines found more
+to object to in each.
+
+At last he fell upon a silver-gray silk, of superlative quality.
+
+“That! It is as old as the hills,” shrieked Rosa.
+
+“It looks just out of the shop. Come, tell the truth; how often have you
+worn it?”
+
+“I wore it before I was married.”
+
+“Ay, but how often?”
+
+“Twice. Three times, I believe.”
+
+“I thought so. It is good as new.”
+
+“But I have had it so long by me. I had it two years before I made it
+up.”
+
+“What does that matter? Do you think the people can tell how long a
+dress has been lurking in your wardrobe? This is childish, Rosa. There,
+with this dress as good as new, and your beauty, you will be as much
+admired, and perhaps hated, as your heart can desire.”
+
+“I am afraid not,” said Rosa naively. “Oh, how I wish I had known a week
+ago.”
+
+“I am very thankful you did not,” said Staines dryly.
+
+At ten o'clock Mrs. Staines was nearly dressed; at a quarter past ten
+she demanded ten minutes; at half-past ten she sought a reprieve; at a
+quarter to eleven, being assured that the street was full of carriages,
+which had put down at Mrs. Lucas's, she consented to emerge; and in a
+minute they were at the house.
+
+They were shown first into a cloak-room, and then into a tea-room, and
+then mounted the stairs. One servant took their names, and bawled them
+to another four yards off, he to another about as near, and so on; and
+they edged themselves into the room, not yet too crowded to move in.
+
+They had not taken many steps, on the chance of finding their hostess,
+when a slight buzz arose, and seemed to follow them.
+
+Rosa wondered what that was; but only for a moment; she observed a tall,
+stout, aquiline woman fix an eye of bitter, diabolical, malignant hatred
+on her; and as she advanced, ugly noses were cocked disdainfully, and
+scraggy shoulders elevated at the risk of sending the bones through the
+leather, and a titter or two shot after her. A woman's instinct gave her
+the key at once; the sexes had complimented her at sight; each in
+their way; the men with respectful admiration; the women, with their
+inflammable jealousy and ready hatred in another of the quality they
+value most in themselves. But the country girl was too many for them:
+she would neither see nor bear, but moved sedately on, and calmly
+crushed them with her Southern beauty. Their dry, powdered faces could
+not live by the side of her glowing skin, with nature's delicate gloss
+upon it, and the rich blood mantling below it. The got-up beauties,
+i.e., the majority, seemed literally to fade and wither as she passed.
+
+Mrs. Lucas got to her, suppressed a slight maternal pang, having
+daughters to marry, and took her line in a moment; here was a decoy
+duck. Mrs. Lucas was all graciousness, made acquaintance, and took a
+little turn with her, introducing her to one or two persons; among the
+rest, to the malignant woman, Mrs. Barr. Mrs. Barr, on this, ceased to
+look daggers and substituted icicles; but on the hateful beauty moving
+away, dropped the icicles, and resumed the poniards.
+
+The rooms filled; the heat became oppressive, and the mixed odors of
+flowers, scents, and perspiring humanity, sickening. Some, unable to
+bear it, trickled out of the room, and sat all down the stairs.
+
+Rosa began to feel faint. Up came a tall, sprightly girl, whose pertness
+was redeemed by a certain bonhomie, and said, “Mrs. Staines, I
+believe? I am to make myself agreeable to you. That is the order from
+headquarters.”
+
+“Miss Lucas,” said Staines.
+
+She jerked a little off-hand bow to him, and said, “Will you trust her
+to me for five minutes?”
+
+“Certainly.” But he did not much like it.
+
+Miss Lucas carried her off, and told Dr. Staines, over her shoulder, now
+he could flirt to his heart's content.
+
+“Thank you,” said he dryly. “I'll await your return.”
+
+“Oh, there are some much greater flirts here than I am,” said the ready
+Miss Lucas; and whispering something in Mrs. Staines's ear, suddenly
+glided with her behind a curtain, pressed a sort of button fixed to a
+looking-glass door. The door opened, and behold they were in a delicious
+place, for which I can hardly find a word, since it was a boudoir and
+a conservatory in one: a large octagon, the walls lined from floor to
+ceiling with looking-glasses of moderate width, at intervals, and with
+creepers that covered the intervening spaces of the wall, and were
+trained so as to break the outline of the glasses without greatly
+clouding the reflection. Ferns, in great variety, were grouped in a
+deep crescent, and in the bight of this green bay were a small table
+and chairs. As there were no hot-house plants, the temperature was very
+cool, compared with the reeking oven they had escaped; and a little
+fountain bubbled, and fed a little meandering gutter that trickled away
+among the ferns; it ran crystal clear over little bright pebbles and
+shells. It did not always run, you understand; but Miss Lucas turned a
+secret tap, and started it.
+
+“Oh, how heavenly!” said Rosa, with a sigh of relief; “and how good of
+you to bring me here!”
+
+“Yes; by rights I ought to have waited till you fainted. But there is no
+making acquaintance among all those people. Mamma will ask such crowds;
+one is like a fly in a glue-pot.”
+
+Miss Lucas had good nature, smartness, and animal spirits; hence arose
+a vivacity and fluency that were often amusing, and passed for very
+clever. Reserve she had none; would talk about strangers, or friends,
+herself, her mother, her God, and the last buffoon-singer, in a breath.
+At a hint from Rosa, she told her who the lady in the pink dress was,
+and the lady in the violet velvet, and so on; for each lady was defined
+by her dress, and, more or less, quizzed by this show-woman, not exactly
+out of malice, but because it is smarter and more natural to decry than
+to praise, and a little medisance is the spice to gossip, belongs to it,
+as mint sauce to lamb. So they chatted away, and were pleased with
+each other, and made friends, and there, in cool grot, quite forgot
+the sufferings of their fellow-creatures in the adjacent Turkish bath,
+yclept society. It was Rosa who first recollected herself. “Will not
+Mrs. Lucas be angry with me, if I keep you all to myself?”
+
+“Oh no; but I'm afraid we must go into the hot-house again. I like the
+greenhouse best, with such a nice companion.”
+
+They slipped noiselessly into the throng again, and wriggled about, Miss
+Lucas presenting her new friend to several ladies and gentlemen.
+
+Presently Staines found them, and then Miss Lucas wriggled away; and in
+due course the room was thinned by many guests driving off home, or to
+balls, and other receptions, and Dr. Staines and Mrs. Staines went home
+to the Bijou. Here the physician prescribed bed; but the lady would not
+hear of such a thing until she had talked it all over. So they compared
+notes, and Rosa told him how well she had got on with Miss Lucas, and
+made a friendship. “But for that,” said she, “I should be sorry I went
+among those people, such a dowdy.”
+
+“Dowdy!” said Staines. “Why, you stormed the town; you were the great
+success of the night, and, for all I know, of the season.” The wretch
+delivered this with unbecoming indifference.
+
+“It is too bad to mock me, Christie. Where were your eyes?”
+
+“To the best of my recollection, they were one on each side of my nose.”
+
+“Yes, but some people are eyes and no eyes.”
+
+“I scorn the imputation; try me.”
+
+“Very well. Then did you see that lady in sky-blue silk, embroidered
+with flowers, and flounced with white velvet, and the corsage point
+lace; and oh, such emeralds?”
+
+“I did; a tall, skinny woman, with eyes resembling her jewels in color,
+though not in brightness.”
+
+“Never mind her eyes; it is her dress I am speaking of. Exquisite; and
+what a coiffure! Well, did you see HER in the black velvet, trimmed so
+deep with Chantilly lace, wave on wave, and her head-dress of crimson
+flowers, and such a riviere of diamonds; oh, dear! oh, dear!”
+
+“I did, love. The room was an oven, but her rubicund face and
+suffocating costume made it seem a furnace.”
+
+“Stuff! Well, did you see the lady in the corn-colored silk, and poppies
+in her hair?”
+
+“Of course I did. Ceres in person. She made me feel hot, too; but I
+cooled myself a bit at her pale, sickly face.”
+
+“Never mind their faces; that is not the point.”
+
+“Oh, excuse me; it is always a point with us benighted males, all eyes
+and no eyes.”
+
+“Well, then, the lady in white, with cherry-velvet bands, and a white
+tunic looped with crimson, and headdress of white illusion, a la vierge,
+I think they call it.”
+
+“It was very refreshing; and adapted to that awful atmosphere. It was
+the nearest approach to nudity I ever saw, even amongst fashionable
+people.”
+
+“It was lovely; and then that superb figure in white illusion and gold,
+with all those narrow flounces over her slip of white silk glacee, and a
+wreath of white flowers, with gold wheat ears amongst them, in her hair;
+and oh! oh! oh! her pearls, oriental, and as big as almonds!”
+
+“And oh! oh! oh! her nose! reddish, and as long as a woodcock's.”
+
+“Noses! noses! stupid! That is not what strikes you first in a woman
+dressed like an angel.”
+
+“Well, if you were to run up against that one, as I nearly did, her nose
+WOULD be the thing that would strike you first. Nose! it was a rostrum!
+the spear-head of Goliah.”
+
+“Now, don't, Christopher. This is no laughing matter. Do you mean you
+were not ashamed of your wife? I was.”
+
+“No, I was not; you had but one rival; a very young lady, wise
+before her age; a blonde, with violet eyes. She was dressed in light
+mauve-colored silk, without a single flounce, or any other tomfoolery
+to fritter away the sheen and color of an exquisite material; her sunny
+hair was another wave of color, wreathed with a thin line of white
+jessamine flowers closely woven, that scented the air. This girl was the
+moon of that assembly, and you were the sun.”
+
+“I never even saw her.”
+
+“Eyes and no eyes. She saw you, and said, 'Oh, what a beautiful
+creature!' for I heard her. As for the old stagers, whom you admire so,
+their faces were all clogged with powder, the pores stopped up, the true
+texture of the skin abolished. They looked downright nasty, whenever
+you or that young girl passed by them. Then it was you saw to what a
+frightful extent women are got up in our day, even young women, and
+respectable women. No, Rosa, dress can do little for you; you have
+beauty--real beauty.”
+
+“Beauty! That passes unnoticed, unless one is well dressed.”
+
+“Then what an obscure pair the Apollo Belvidere and the Venus de Medicis
+must be.”
+
+“Oh! they are dressed--in marble.”
+
+Christopher Staines stared first, then smiled.
+
+“Well done,” said he, admiringly. “That IS a knockdown blow. So now you
+have silenced your husband, go you to bed directly. I can't afford you
+diamonds; so I will take care of that little insignificant trifle, your
+beauty.”
+
+Mrs. Staines and Mrs. Lucas exchanged calls, and soon Mrs. Staines could
+no longer complain she was out of the world. Mrs. Lucas invited her to
+every party, because her beauty was an instrument of attraction she knew
+how to use; and Miss Lucas took a downright fancy to her; drove her in
+the park, and on Sundays to the Zoological Gardens, just beginning to be
+fashionable.
+
+The Lucases rented a box at the opera, and if it was not let at the
+library by six o'clock, and if other engagements permitted, word was
+sent round to Mrs. Staines, as a matter of course, and she was taken to
+the opera. She began almost to live at the Lucases, and to be oftener
+fatigued than moped.
+
+The usual order of things was inverted; the maiden lady educated the
+matron; for Miss Lucas knew all about everybody in the Park, honorable
+or dishonorable; all the scandals, and all the flirtations; and whatever
+she knew, she related point-blank. Being as inquisitive as voluble, she
+soon learned how Mrs. Staines and her husband were situated. She took
+upon her to advise her in many things, and especially impressed upon
+her that Dr. Staines must keep a carriage, if he wanted to get on in
+medicine. The piece of advice accorded so well with Rosa's wishes, that
+she urged it on her husband again and again.
+
+He objected that no money was coming in, and therefore it would be
+insane to add to their expenses. Rosa persisted, and at last worried
+Staines with her importunity. He began to give rather short answers.
+Then she quoted Miss Lucas against him. He treated the authority with
+marked contempt; and then Rosa fired up a little. Then Staines held his
+peace; but did not buy a carriage to visit his no patients.
+
+So at last Rosa complained to Lady Cicely Treherne, and made her the
+judge between her husband and herself. Lady Cicely drawled out a prompt
+but polite refusal to play that part. All that could be elicited from
+her, and that with difficulty, was, “Why quall with your husband about a
+cawwige; he is your best fwiend.”
+
+“Ah, that he is,” said Rosa; “but Miss Lucas is a good friend, and she
+knows the world. We don't; neither Christopher nor I.”
+
+So she continued to nag at her husband about it, and to say that he was
+throwing his only chance away.
+
+Galled as he was by neglect, this was irritating, and at last he could
+not help telling her she was unreasonable. “You live a gay life, and I
+a sad one. I consent to this, and let you go about with these Lucases,
+because you were so dull; but you should not consult them in our private
+affairs. Their interference is indelicate and improper. I will not set
+up a carriage till I have patients to visit. I am sick of seeing our
+capital dwindle, and no income created. I will never set up a carriage
+till I have taken a hundred-guinea fee.”
+
+“Oh! Then we shall go splashing through the mud all our days.”
+
+“Or ride in a cab,” said Christopher, with a quiet doggedness that left
+no hope of his yielding.
+
+One afternoon Miss Lucas called for Mrs. Staines to drive in the Park,
+but did not come up-stairs; it was an engagement, and she knew Mrs.
+Staines would be ready, or nearly. Mrs. Staines, not to keep her
+waiting, came down rather hastily, and in the very passage whipped out
+of her pocket a little glass, and a little powder puff, and puffed her
+face all over in a trice. She was then going out; but her husband called
+her into the study. “Rosa, my dear,” said he, “you were going out with a
+dirty face.”
+
+“Oh!” cried she, “give me a glass.”
+
+“There is no need of that. All you want is a basin and some nice
+rain-water. I keep a little reservoir of it.”
+
+He then handed her the same with great politeness. She looked in his
+eye, and saw he was not to be trifled with. She complied like a lamb,
+and the heavenly color and velvet gloss that resulted were admirable.
+
+He kissed her and said, “Ah! now you are my Rosa again. Oblige me by
+handing over that powder-puff to me.” She looked vexed, but complied.
+“When you come back I will tell you why.”
+
+“You are a pest,” said Mrs. Staines, and so joined her friend, rosy with
+rain-water and a rub.
+
+“Dear me, how handsome you look to-day!” was Miss Lucas's first remark.
+
+Rosa never dreamed that rain-water and rub could be the cause of her
+looking so well.
+
+“It is my tiresome husband,” said she. “He objects to powder, and he has
+taken away my puff.”
+
+“And you stood that?”
+
+“Obliged to.”
+
+“Why, you poor-spirited little creature, I should like to see a husband
+presume to interfere with me in those things. Here, take mine.”
+
+Rosa hesitated a little. “Well--no--I think not.”
+
+Miss Lucas laughed at her, and quizzed her so on her allowing a man to
+interfere in such sacred things as dress and cosmetics, that she came
+back irritated with her husband, and gave him a short answer or two.
+Then he asked what was the matter.
+
+“You treat me like a child--taking away my very puff.”
+
+“I treat you like a beautiful flower, that no bad gardener shall wither
+whilst I am here.”
+
+“What nonsense! How could that wither me? It is only violet powder--what
+they put on babies.”
+
+“And who are the Herods that put it on babies?”
+
+“Their own mothers, that love them ten times more than the fathers do.”
+
+“And kill a hundred of them for one a man ever kills. Mothers!--the most
+wholesale homicides in the nation. We will examine your violet-powder:
+bring it down here.”
+
+While she was gone he sent for a breakfast-cupful of flour, and when she
+came back he had his scales out, and begged her to put a teaspoonful of
+flour into one scale and of violet powder into another. The flour kicked
+the beam, as Homer expresses himself.
+
+“Put another spoonful of flour.”
+
+The one spoonful of violet powder outweighed the two of flour.
+
+“Now,” said Staines, “does not that show you the presence of a mineral
+in your vegetable powder? I suppose they tell you it is made of white
+violets dried, and triturated in a diamond mill. Let us find out what
+metal it is. We need not go very deep into chemistry for that.” He
+then applied a simple test, and detected the presence of lead in large
+quantities. Then he lectured her: “Invisible perspiration is a process
+of nature necessary to health and to life. The skin is made porous for
+that purpose. You can kill anybody in an hour or two by closing the
+pores. A certain infallible ass, called Pope Leo XII., killed a little
+boy in two hours, by gilding him to adorn the pageant of his first
+procession as Pope. But what is death to the whole body must be
+injurious to a part. What madness, then, to clog the pores of so
+large and important a surface as the face, and check the invisible
+perspiration: how much more to insert lead into your system every day
+of your life; a cumulative poison, and one so deadly and so subtle, that
+the Sheffield file-cutters die in their prime, from merely hammering on
+a leaden anvil. And what do you gain by this suicidal habit? No plum has
+a sweeter bloom or more delicious texture than the skin of your
+young face; but this mineral filth hides that delicate texture, and
+substitutes a dry, uniform appearance, more like a certain kind of
+leprosy than health. Nature made your face the rival of peaches, roses,
+lilies; and you say, 'No; I know better than my Creator and my God; my
+face shall be like a dusty miller's.' Go into any flour-mill, and there
+you shall see men with faces exactly like your friend Miss Lucas's. But
+before a miller goes to his sweetheart, he always washes his face. You
+ladies would never get a miller down to your level in brains. It is a
+miller's DIRTY face our mono-maniacs of woman imitate, not the face a
+miller goes a-courting with.”
+
+“La! what a fuss about nothing!”
+
+“About nothing! Is your health nothing? Is your beauty nothing? Well,
+then, it will cost you nothing to promise me never to put powder on your
+face again.”
+
+“Very well, I promise. Now what will you do for me?”
+
+“Work for you--write for you--suffer for you--be self-denying for
+you--and even give myself the pain of disappointing you now and
+then--looking forward to the time when I shall be able to say 'Yes' to
+everything you ask me. Ah! child, you little know what it costs me to
+say 'No' to YOU.”
+
+Rosa put her arms round him and acquiesced. She was one of those who
+go with the last speaker; but, for that very reason, the eternal
+companionship of so flighty and flirty a girl as Miss Lucas was
+injurious to her.
+
+One day Lady Cicely Treherne was sitting with Mrs. Staines, smiling
+languidly at her talk, and occasionally drawling out a little plain good
+sense, when in came Miss Lucas, with her tongue well hung, as usual, and
+dashed into twenty topics in ten minutes.
+
+This young lady in her discourse was like those little oily beetles you
+see in small ponds, whose whole life is spent in tacking--confound them
+for it!--generally at right angles. What they are in navigation was Miss
+Lucas in conversation: tacked so eternally from topic to topic, that no
+man on earth, and not every woman, could follow her.
+
+At the sight and sound of her, Lady Cicely congealed and stiffened.
+Easy and unpretending with Mrs. Staines, she was all dignity, and even
+majesty, in the presence of this chatterbox; and the smoothness with
+which the transfiguration was accomplished marked that accomplished
+actress the high-bred woman of the world.
+
+Rosa, better able to estimate the change of manner than Miss Lucas was,
+who did not know how little this Sawny was afflicted with misplaced
+dignity, looked wistfully and distressed at her. Lady Cicely
+smiled kindly in reply, rose, without seeming to hurry,--catch her
+condescending to be rude to Charlotte Lucas,--and took her departure,
+with a profound and most gracious courtesy to the lady who had driven
+her away.
+
+Mrs. Staines saw her down-stairs, and said, ruefully, “I am afraid
+you do not like my friend Miss Lucas. She is a great rattle, but so
+good-natured and clever.”
+
+Lady Cicely shook her head. “Clevaa people don't talk so much nonsense
+before strangaas.”
+
+“Oh, dear!” said Rosa. “I was in hopes you would like her.”
+
+“Do YOU like her?”
+
+“Indeed I do; but I shall not, if she drives an older friend away.”
+
+“My dyah, I'm not easily dwiven from those I esteem. But you undastand
+that is not a woman for me to mispwonownce my 'ah's befaw--NOR FOR YOU
+TO MAKE A BOSOM FWIEND OF--WOSA STAINES.”
+
+She said this with a sudden maternal solemnity and kindness that
+contrasted nobly and strangely with her yea-nay style, and Mrs. Staines
+remembered the words years after they were spoken.
+
+It so happened that after this Mrs. Staines received no more visits from
+Lady Cicely for some time, and that vexed her. She knew her sex enough
+to be aware that they are very jealous, and she permitted herself to
+think that this high-minded Sawny was jealous of Miss Lucas.
+
+This idea, founded on a general estimate of her sex, was dispelled by a
+few lines from Lady Cicely, to say her family and herself were in deep
+distress; her brother, Lord Ayscough, lay dying from an accident.
+
+Then Rosa was all remorse, and ran down to Staines to tell him. She
+found him with an open letter in his hand. It was from Dr. Barr, and
+on the same subject. The doctor, who had always been friendly to him,
+invited him to come down at once to Hallowtree Hall, in Huntingdonshire,
+to a consultation. There was a friendly intimation to start at once, as
+the patient might die any moment.
+
+Husband and wife embraced each other in a tumult of surprised
+thankfulness. A few necessaries were thrown into a carpet-bag, and
+Dr. Staines was soon whirled into Huntingdonshire. Having telegraphed
+beforehand, he was met at the station by the earl's carriage and people,
+and driven to the Hall. He was received by an old, silver-haired butler,
+looking very sad, who conducted him to a boudoir; and then went and
+tapped gently at the door of the patient's room. It was opened and shut
+very softly, and Lady Cicely, dressed in black, and looking paler than
+ever, came into the room.
+
+“Dr. Staines, I think?”
+
+He bowed.
+
+“Thank you for coming so promptly. Dr. Barr is gone. I fear he
+thinks--he thinks--O Dr. Staines--no sign of life but in his poor hands,
+that keep moving night and day.”
+
+Staines looked very grave at that. Lady Cicely observed it, and, faint
+at heart, could say no more, but led the way to the sick-room.
+
+There in a spacious chamber, lighted by a grand oriel window and two
+side windows, lay rank, title, wealth, and youth, stricken down in a
+moment by a common accident. The sufferer's face was bloodless, his eyes
+fixed, and no signs of life but in his thumbs, and they kept working
+with strange regularity.
+
+In the room were a nurse and the surgeon; the neighboring physician, who
+had called in Dr. Barr, had just paid his visit and gone away.
+
+Lady Cicely introduced Dr. Staines and Mr. White, and then Dr. Staines
+stood and fixed his eyes on the patient in profound silence. Lady
+Cicely scanned his countenance searchingly, and was struck with the
+extraordinary power and intensity it assumed in examining the patient;
+but the result was not encouraging. Dr. Staines looked grave and gloomy.
+
+At last, without removing his eye from the recumbent figure, he said
+quietly to Mr. White, “Thrown from his horse, sir.”
+
+“Horse fell on him, Dr. Staines.”
+
+“Any visible injuries?”
+
+“Yes. Severe contusions, and a rib broken and pressed upon the lungs. I
+replaced and set it. Will you see?”
+
+“If you please.”
+
+He examined and felt the patient, and said it had been ably done.
+
+Then he was silent and searching.
+
+At last he spoke again. “The motion of the thumbs corresponds exactly
+with his pulse.”
+
+“Is that so, sir?”
+
+“It is. The case is without a parallel. How long has he been so?”
+
+“Nearly a week.”
+
+“Impossible!”
+
+“It is so, sir.”
+
+Lady Cicely confirmed this.
+
+“All the better,” said Dr. Staines upon reflection. “Well, sir,” said
+he, “the visible injuries having been ably relieved, I shall look
+another way for the cause.” Then, after another pause, “I must have his
+head shaved.”
+
+Lady Cicely demurred a little to this; but Dr. Staines stood firm, and
+his lordship's valet undertook the job.
+
+Staines directed him where to begin; and when he had made a circular
+tonsure on the top of the head, had it sponged with tepid water.
+
+“I thought so,” said he. “Here is the mischief;” and he pointed to a
+very slight indentation on the left side of the pia mater. “Observe,”
+ said he, “there is no corresponding indentation on the other side.
+Underneath this trifling depression a minute piece of bone is doubtless
+pressing on the most sensitive part of the brain. He must be trephined.”
+
+Mr. White's eyes sparkled.
+
+“You are an hospital surgeon, sir?”
+
+“Yes, Dr. Staines. I have no fear of the operation.”
+
+“Then I hand the patient over to you. The case at present is entirely
+surgical.”
+
+White was driven home, and soon returned with the requisite instruments.
+The operation was neatly performed, and then Lady Cicely was called in.
+She came trembling; her brother's fingers were still working, but not so
+regularly.
+
+“That is only HABIT,” said Staines; “it will soon leave off, now the
+cause is gone.”
+
+And, truly enough, in about five minutes the fingers became quiet. The
+eyes became human next; and within half an hour after the operation the
+earl gave a little sigh.
+
+Lady Cicely clasped her hands, and uttered a little cry of delight.
+
+“This will not do,” said Staines, “I shall have you screaming when he
+speaks.”
+
+“Oh, Dr. Staines! will he ever speak?”
+
+“I think so, and very soon. So be on your guard.”
+
+This strange scene reached its climax soon after, by the earl saying,
+quietly,--
+
+“Are her knees broke, Tom?”
+
+Lady Cicely uttered a little scream, but instantly suppressed it.
+
+“No, my lord,” said Staines, smartly; “only rubbed a bit. You can go to
+sleep, my lord. I'll take care of the mare.”
+
+“All right,” said his lordship; and composed himself to slumber.
+
+Dr. Staines, at the earnest request of Lady Cicely, stayed all night;
+and in course of the day advised her how to nurse the patient, since
+both physician and surgeon had done with him.
+
+He said the patient's brain might be irritable for some days, and no
+women in silk dresses or crinoline, or creaking shoes, must enter the
+room. He told her the nurse was evidently a clumsy woman, and would
+be letting things fall. She had better get some old soldier used to
+nursing. “And don't whisper in the room,” said he; “nothing irritates
+them worse; and don't let anybody play a piano within hearing; but in a
+day or two you may try him with slow and continuous music on the flute
+or violin if you like. Don't touch his bed suddenly; don't sit on it or
+lean on it. Dole sunlight into his room by degrees; and when he can bear
+it, drench him with it. Never mind what the old school tell you. About
+these things they know a good deal less than nothing.”
+
+Lady Cicely received all this like an oracle.
+
+The cure was telegraphed to Dr. Barr, and he was requested to settle the
+fee. He was not the man to undersell the profession, and was jealous
+of nobody, having a large practice, and a very wealthy wife. So he
+telegraphed back--“Fifty guineas, and a guinea a mile from London.”
+
+So, as Christopher Staines sat at an early breakfast, with the carriage
+waiting to take him to the train, two notes were brought him on a
+salver.
+
+They were both directed by Lady Cicely Treherne. One of them contained a
+few kind and feeling words of gratitude and esteem; the other, a check,
+drawn by the earl's steward, for one hundred and thirty guineas.
+
+He bowled up to London, and told it all to Rosa. She sparkled with
+pride, affection, and joy.
+
+“Now, who says you are not a genius?” she cried. “A hundred and thirty
+guineas for one fee! Now, if you love your wife as she loves you--you
+will set up a brougham.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Doctor Staines begged leave to distinguish; he had not said he would
+set up a carriage at the first one hundred guinea fee, but only that he
+would not set up one before. There are misguided people who would call
+this logic: but Rosa said it was equivocating, and urged him so warmly
+that at last he burst out, “Who can go on forever saying 'No,' to
+the only creature he loves?”--and caved. In forty-eight hours more a
+brougham waited at Mrs. Staines's door. The servant engaged to drive
+it was Andrew Pearman, a bachelor, and, hitherto, an under-groom. He
+readily consented to be coachman, and to do certain domestic work as
+well. So Mrs. Staines had a man-servant as well as a carriage.
+
+Ere long, three or four patients called, or wrote, one after the other.
+These Rosa set down to brougham, and crowed; she even crowed to Lady
+Cicely Treherne, to whose influence, and not to brougham's, every one of
+these patients was owing. Lady Cicely kissed her, and demurely enjoyed
+the poor soul's self-satisfaction.
+
+Staines himself, while he drove to or from these patients, felt more
+sanguine, and buoyed as he was by the consciousness of ability, began to
+hope he had turned the corner.
+
+He sent an account of Lord Ayscough's case to a medical magazine: and so
+full is the world of flunkeyism, that this article, though he withheld
+the name, retaining only the title, got the literary wedge in for him
+at once: and in due course he became a paid contributor to two medical
+organs, and used to study and write more, and indent the little stone
+yard less than heretofore.
+
+It was about this time circumstances made him acquainted with Phoebe
+Dale. Her intermediate history I will dispose of in fewer words than it
+deserves. Her ruin, Mr. Reginald Falcon, was dismissed from his club,
+for marking high cards on the back with his nail. This stopped his
+remaining resource--borrowing: so he got more and more out at elbows,
+till at last he came down to hanging about billiard-rooms, and making a
+little money by concealing his game; from that, however, he rose to be a
+marker.
+
+Having culminated to that, he wrote and proposed marriage to Miss Dale,
+in a charming letter: she showed it to her father with pride.
+
+Now, if his vanity, his disloyalty, his falsehood, his ingratitude,
+and his other virtues had not stood in the way, he would have done this
+three years ago, and been jumped at.
+
+But the offer came too late; not for Phoebe--she would have taken him in
+a moment--but for her friends. A baited hook is one thing, a bare hook
+is another. Farmer Dale had long discovered where Phoebe's money went:
+he said not a word to her; but went up to town like a shot; found Falcon
+out, and told him he mustn't think to eat his daughter's bread. She
+should marry a man that could make a decent livelihood; and if she
+was to run away with HIM, why they'd starve together. The farmer was
+resolute, and spoke very loud, like one that expects opposition, and
+comes prepared to quarrel. Instead of that, this artful rogue addressed
+him with deep respect and an affected veneration, that quite puzzled
+the old man; acquiesced in every word, expressed contrition for his past
+misdeeds, and told the farmer he had quite determined to labor with his
+hands. “You know, farmer,” said he, “I am not the only gentleman who has
+come to that in the present day. Now, all my friends that have seen my
+sketches, assure me I am a born painter; and a painter I'll be--for love
+of Phoebe.”
+
+The farmer made a wry face. “Painter! that is a sorry sort of a trade.”
+
+“You are mistaken. It's the best trade going. There are gentlemen making
+their thousands a year by it.”
+
+“Not in our parts, there bain't. Stop a bit. What be ye going to paint,
+sir? Housen, or folk?”
+
+“Oh, hang it, not houses. Figures, landscapes.”
+
+“Well, ye might just make shift to live at it, I suppose, with here and
+there a signboard. They are the best paid, our way: but, Lord bless ye,
+THEY wants headpiece. Well, sir, let me see your work. Then we'll talk
+further.”
+
+“I'll go to work this afternoon,” said Falcon eagerly; then with
+affected surprise, “Bless me; I forgot. I have no palette, no canvas, no
+colors. You couldn't lend me a couple of sovereigns to buy them, could
+you?”
+
+“Ay, sir; I could. But I woan't. I'll lend ye the things, though, if you
+have a mind to go with me and buy 'em.”
+
+Falcon agreed, with a lofty smile; and the purchases were made.
+
+Mr. Falcon painted a landscape or two out of his imagination. The
+dealers to whom he took them declined them; one advised the gentleman
+painter to color tea-boards. “That's your line,” said he.
+
+“The world has no taste,” said the gentleman painter: “but it has got
+lots of vanity: I'll paint portraits.”
+
+He did; and formidable ones: his portraits were amazingly like the
+people, and yet unlike men and women, especially about the face. One
+thing, he didn't trouble with lights and shades, but went slap at the
+features.
+
+His brush would never have kept him; but he carried an instrument, in
+the use of which he was really an artist, viz., his tongue. By wheedling
+and underselling--for he only charged a pound for the painted canvas--he
+contrived to live; then he aspired to dress as well as live. With this
+second object in view, he hit upon a characteristic expedient.
+
+He used to prowl about, and when he saw a young woman sweeping the
+afternoon streets with a long silk train, and, in short, dressed to ride
+in the park, yet parading the streets, he would take his hat off to
+her, with an air of profound respect, and ask permission to take her
+portrait. Generally he met a prompt rebuff; but if the fair was so
+unlucky as to hesitate a single moment, he told her a melting tale; he
+had once driven his four-in-hand; but by indorsing his friends' bills,
+was reduced to painting likeness, admirable likenesses in oil, only a
+guinea each.
+
+His piteous tale provoked more gibes than pity, but as he had no shame,
+the rebuffs went for nothing: he actually did get a few sitters by his
+audacity: and some of the sitters actually took the pictures, and paid
+for them; others declined them with fury as soon as they were finished.
+These he took back with a piteous sigh, that sometimes extracted half
+a crown. Then he painted over the rejected one and let it dry; so that
+sometimes a paid portrait would present a beauty enthroned on the debris
+of two or three rivals, and that is where few beauties would object to
+sit.
+
+All this time he wrote nice letters to Phoebe, and adopted the tone
+of the struggling artist, and the true lover, who wins his bride by
+patience, perseverance, and indomitable industry; a babbled of “Self
+Help.”
+
+Meantime, Phoebe was not idle: an excellent business woman, she took
+immediate advantage of a new station that was built near the farm, to
+send up milk, butter, and eggs to London. Being genuine, they sold like
+wildfire. Observing that, she extended her operations, by buying of
+other farmers, and forwarding to London: and then, having of course an
+eye to her struggling artist, she told her father she must have a shop
+in London, and somebody in it she could depend upon.
+
+“With all my heart, wench,” said he; “but it must not be thou. I can't
+spare thee.”
+
+“May I have Dick, father?”
+
+“Dick! he is rather young.”
+
+“But he is very quick, father, and minds every word I tell him.”
+
+“Ay, he is as fond of thee as ever a cow was of a calf. Well, you can
+try him.”
+
+So the love-sick woman of business set up a little shop, and put her
+brother Dick in it, and all to see more of her struggling artist. She
+stayed several days, to open the little shop, and start the business.
+She advertised pure milk, and challenged scientific analysis of
+everything she sold. This came of her being a reader; she knew, by the
+journals, that we live in a sinful and adulterating generation, and
+anything pure must be a godsend to the poor poisoned public.
+
+Now, Dr. Staines, though known to the profession as a diagnost, was also
+an analyst, and this challenge brought him down on Phoebe Dale. He
+told her he was a physician, and in search of pure food for his own
+family--would she really submit the milk to analysis?
+
+Phoebe smiled an honest country smile, and said, “Surely, sir.” She gave
+him every facility, and he applied those simple tests which are commonly
+used in France, though hardly known in England.
+
+He found it perfectly pure, and told her so; and gazed at Phoebe for a
+moment, as a phenomenon.
+
+She smiled again at that, her broad country smile. “That is a wonder in
+London, I dare say. It's my belief half the children that die here are
+perished with watered milk. Well, sir, we shan't have that on our souls,
+father and I; he is a farmer in Essex. This comes a many miles, this
+milk.”
+
+Staines looked in her face, with kindly approval marked on his own
+eloquent features. She blushed a little at so fixed a regard. Then he
+asked her if she would supply him with milk, butter, and eggs.
+
+“Why, if you mean sell you them, yes, sir, with pleasure. But for
+sending them home to you in this big town, as some do, I can't; for
+there's only brother Dick and me: it is an experiment like.”
+
+“Very well,” said Staines: “I will send for them.”
+
+“Thank you kindly, sir. I hope you won't be offended, sir; but we only
+sell for ready money.”
+
+“All the better: my order at home is, no bills.”
+
+When he was gone, Phoebe, assuming vast experience, though this was only
+her third day, told Dick that was one of the right sort: “and oh, Dick,”
+ said she, “did you notice his eye?”
+
+“Not particklar, sister.”
+
+“There now; the boy is blind. Why, 'twas like a jewel. Such an eye I
+never saw in a man's head, nor a woman's neither.”
+
+Staines told his wife about Phoebe and her brother, and spoke of her
+with a certain admiration that raised Rosa's curiosity, and even that
+sort of vague jealousy that fires at bare praise. “I should like to see
+this phenomenon,” said she. “You shall,” said he. “I have to call on
+Mrs. Manly. She lives near. I will drop you at the little shop, and come
+back for you.”
+
+He did so, and that gave Rosa a quarter of an hour to make her
+purchases. When he came back he found her conversing with Phoebe, as
+if they were old friends, and Dick glaring at his wife with awe and
+admiration. He could hardly get her away.
+
+She was far more extravagant in her praises than Dr. Staines had been.
+“What a good creature!” said she. “And how clever! To think of her
+setting up a shop like that all by herself; for her Dick is only
+seventeen.”
+
+Dr. Staines recommended the little shop wherever he went, and even
+extended its operations. He asked Phoebe to get her own wheat ground
+at home, and send the flour up in bushel bags. “These assassins, the
+bakers,” said he, “are putting copper into the flour now, as well as
+alum. Pure flour is worth a fancy price to any family. With that we
+can make the bread of life. What you buy in the shops is the bread of
+death.”
+
+Dick was a good, sharp boy, devoted to his sister. He stuck to the shop
+in London, and handed the money to Phoebe, when she came for it. She
+worked for it in Essex, and extended her country connection for supply
+as the retail business increased.
+
+Staines wrote an article on pure food, and incidentally mentioned the
+shop as a place where flour, milk, and butter were to be had pure. This
+article was published in the Lancet, and caused quite a run upon the
+little shop. By and by Phoebe enlarged it, for which there were great
+capabilities, and made herself a pretty little parlor, and there she and
+Dick sat to Falcon for their portraits; here, too, she hung his rejected
+landscapes. They were fair in her eyes; what matter whether they
+were like nature? his hand had painted them. She knew, from him, that
+everybody else had rejected them. With all the more pride and love did
+she have them framed in gold, and hung up with the portraits in her
+little sanctum.
+
+For a few months Phoebe Dale was as happy as she deserved to be. Her
+lover was working, and faithful to her--at least she saw no reason to
+doubt it. He came to see her every evening, and seemed devoted to her:
+would sit quietly with her, or walk with her, or take her to a play, or
+a music-hall--at her expense.
+
+She now lived in a quiet elysium, with a bright and rapturous dream
+of the future; for she saw she had hit on a good vein of business, and
+should soon be independent, and able to indulge herself with a husband,
+and ask no man's leave.
+
+She sent to Essex for a dairymaid, and set her to churn milk into
+butter, coram populo, at a certain hour every morning. This made a new
+sensation. At other times the woman was employed to deliver milk and
+cream to a few favored customers.
+
+Mrs. Staines dropped in now and then, and chatted with her. Her sweet
+face and her naivete won Phoebe's heart; and one day, as happiness is
+apt to be communicative, she let out to her, in reply to a feeler or two
+as to whether she was quite alone, that she was engaged to be married to
+a gentleman. “But he is not rich, ma'am,” said Phoebe plaintively; “he
+has had trouble: obliged to work for his living, like me; he painted
+these pictures, EVERY ONE OF THEM. If it was not making too free, and
+you could spare a guinea--he charges no more for the picture, only you
+must go to the expense of the frame.”
+
+“Of course I will,” said Rosa warmly. “I'll sit for it here, any day you
+like.”
+
+Now, Rosa said this, out of her ever ready kindness, not to wound
+Phoebe: but having made the promise, she kept clear of the place for
+some days, hoping Phoebe would forget all about it. Meantime she sent
+her husband to buy.
+
+In about a fortnight she called again, primed with evasions if she
+should be asked to sit; but nothing of the kind was proposed. Phoebe was
+dealing when she went in. The customers disposed of, she said to Mrs.
+Staines, “Oh, ma'am, I am glad you are come. I have something I should
+like to show you.” She took her into the parlor, and made her sit down:
+then she opened a drawer, and took out a very small substance that
+looked like a tear of ground glass, and put it on the table before
+her. “There, ma'am,” said she, “that is all he has had for painting a
+friend's picture.”
+
+“Oh! what a shame.”
+
+“His friend was going abroad--to Natal; to his uncle that farms out
+there, and does very well; it is a first-rate part, if you take out a
+little stock with you, and some money; so my one gave him credit, and
+when the letter came with that postmark, he counted on a five-pound
+note; but the letter only said he had got no money yet, but sent him
+something as a keepsake: and there was this little stone. Poor fellow!
+he flung it down in a passion; he was so disappointed.”
+
+Phoebe's great gray eyes filled; and Rosa gave a little coo of sympathy
+that was very womanly and lovable.
+
+Phoebe leaned her cheek on her hand, and said thoughtfully, “I picked it
+up, and brought it away; for, after all--don't you think, ma'am, it is
+very strange that a friend should send it all that way, if it was worth
+nothing at all?”
+
+“It is impossible. He could not be so heartless.”
+
+“And do you know, ma'am, when I take it up in my fingers, it doesn't
+feel like a thing that was worth nothing.”
+
+“No more it does: it makes my fingers tremble. May I take it home, and
+show it my husband? he is a great physician and knows everything.”
+
+“I am sure I should be obliged to you, ma'am.”
+
+Rosa drove home, on purpose to show it to Christopher. She ran into
+his study: “Oh, Christopher, please look at that. You know that good
+creature we have our flour and milk and things of. She is engaged, and
+he is a painter. Oh, such daubs! He painted a friend, and the friend
+sent that home all the way from Natal, and he dashed it down, and SHE
+picked it up, and what is it? ground glass, or a pebble, or what?”
+
+“Humph!--by its shape, and the great--brilliancy--and refraction of
+light, on this angle, where the stone has got polished by rubbing
+against other stones, in the course of ages, I'm inclined to think it
+is--a diamond.”
+
+“A diamond!” shrieked Rosa. “No wonder my fingers trembled. Oh, can
+it be? Oh, you good, cold-blooded Christie!--Poor things!--Come along,
+Diamond! Oh you beauty! Oh you duck!”
+
+“Don't be in such a hurry. I only said I thought it was a diamond. Let
+me weigh it against water, and then I shall KNOW.”
+
+He took it to his little laboratory, and returned in a few minutes, and
+said, “Yes. It is just three times and a half heavier than water. It is
+a diamond.”
+
+“Are you positive?”
+
+“I'll stake my existence.”
+
+“What is it worth?”
+
+“My dear, I'm not a jeweller: but it is very large and pear-shaped,
+and I see no flaw: I don't think you could buy it for less than three
+hundred pounds.”
+
+“Three hundred pounds! It is worth three hundred pounds.”
+
+“Or sell it for more than a hundred and fifty pounds.”
+
+“A hundred and fifty! It is worth a hundred and fifty pounds.”
+
+“Why, my dear, one would think you had invented 'the diamond.' Show me
+how to crystallize carbon, and I will share your enthusiasm.”
+
+“Oh, I leave you to carbonize crystal. I prefer to gladden hearts: and I
+will do it this minute, with my diamond.”
+
+“Do, dear; and I will take that opportunity to finish my article on
+Adulteration.”
+
+Rosa drove off to Phoebe Dale.
+
+Now Phoebe was drinking tea with Reginald Falcon, in her little parlor.
+“Who is that, I wonder?” said she, when the carriage drew up.
+
+Reginald drew back a corner of the gauze curtain which had been drawn
+across the little glass door leading from the shop.
+
+“It is a lady, and a beautiful--Oh! let me get out.” And he rushed out
+at the door leading to the kitchen, not to be recognized.
+
+This set Phoebe all in a flutter, and the next moment Mrs. Staines
+tapped at the little door, then opened it, and peeped. “Good news! may I
+come in?”
+
+“Surely,” said Phoebe, still troubled and confused by Reginald's strange
+agitation.
+
+“There! It is a diamond!” screamed Rosa. “My husband knew it directly.
+He knows everything. If ever you are ill, go to him and nobody else--by
+the refraction, and the angle, and its being three times and a half as
+heavy as water. It is worth three hundred pounds to buy, and a hundred
+and fifty pounds to sell.”
+
+“Oh!”
+
+“So don't you go throwing it away, as he did. (In a whisper.) Two
+teacups? Was that him? I have driven him away. I am so sorry. I'll go;
+and then you can tell him. Poor fellow!”
+
+“Oh, ma'am, don't go yet,” said Phoebe, trembling. “I haven't half
+thanked you.”
+
+“Oh, bother thanks. Kiss me; that is the way.”
+
+“May I?”
+
+“You may, and must. There--and there--and there. Oh dear, what nice
+things good luck and happiness are, and how sweet to bring them for
+once.”
+
+Upon this Phoebe and she had a nice little cry together, and Mrs.
+Staines went off refreshed thereby, and as gay as a lark, pointing slyly
+at the door, and making faces to Phoebe that she knew he was there, and
+she only retired, out of her admirable discretion, that they might enjoy
+the diamond together.
+
+When she was gone, Reginald, whose eye and ear had been at the keyhole,
+alternately gloating on the face and drinking the accents of the only
+woman he had ever really loved, came out, looking pale, and strangely
+disturbed; and sat down at table, without a word.
+
+Phoebe came back to him, full of the diamond. “Did you hear what she
+said, my dear? It is a diamond; it is worth a hundred and fifty pounds
+at least. Why, what ails you? Ah! to be sure! you know that lady.”
+
+“I have cause to know her. Cursed jilt!”
+
+“You seem a good deal put out at the sight of her.”
+
+“It took me by surprise, that is all.”
+
+“It takes me by surprise too. I thought you were cured. I thought MY
+turn had come at last.”
+
+Reginald met this in sullen silence. Then Phoebe was sorry she had said
+it; for, after all, it wasn't the man's fault if an old sweetheart had
+run into the room, and given him a start. So she made him some fresh
+tea, and pressed him kindly to try her home-made bread and butter.
+
+My lord relaxed his frown and consented, and of course they talked
+diamond.
+
+He told her, loftily, he must take a studio, and his sitters must come
+to him, and must no longer expect to be immortalized for one pound. It
+must be two pounds for a bust, and three pounds for a kitcat.
+
+“Nay, but, my dear,” said Phoebe, “they will pay no more because you
+have a diamond.”
+
+“Then they will have to go unpainted,” said Mr. Falcon.
+
+This was intended for a threat. Phoebe instinctively felt that it might
+not be so received; she counselled moderation. “It is a great thing to
+have earned a diamond,” said she: “but 'tis only once in a life. Now,
+be ruled by me: go on just as you are. Sell the diamond, and give me the
+money to keep for you. Why, you might add a little to it, and so would
+I, till we made it up two hundred pounds. And if you could only show two
+hundred pounds you had made and laid by, father would let us marry,
+and I might keep this shop--it pays well, I can tell you--and keep my
+gentleman in a sly corner; you need never be seen in it.”
+
+“Ay, ay,” said he, “that is the small game. But I am a man that have
+always preferred the big game. I shall set up my studio, and make enough
+to keep us both. So give me the stone, if you please. I shall take it
+round to them all, and the rogues won't get it out of ME for a hundred
+and fifty; why, it is as big as a nut.”
+
+“No, no, Reginald. Money has always made mischief between you and me.
+You never had fifty pounds yet, you didn't fall into temptation. Do
+pray let me keep it for you; or else sell it--I know how to sell; nobody
+better--and keep the money for a good occasion.”
+
+“Is it yours, or mine?” said he, sulkily.
+
+“Why yours, dear; you earned it.”
+
+“Then give it me, please.” And he almost forced it out of her hand.
+
+So now she sat down and cried over this piece of good luck, for her
+heart filled with forebodings.
+
+He laughed at her, but at last had the grace to console her, and assure
+her she was tormenting herself for nothing.
+
+“Time will show,” said she, sadly.
+
+Time did show.
+
+Three or four days he came, as usual, to laugh her out of her
+forebodings. But presently his visits ceased. She knew what that meant:
+he was living like a gentleman, melting his diamond, and playing her
+false with the first pretty face he met.
+
+This blow, coming after she had been so happy, struck Phoebe Dale stupid
+with grief. The line on her high forehead deepened; and at night she sat
+with her hands before her, sighing, and sighing, and listening for the
+footsteps that never came.
+
+“Oh, Dick!” she said, “never you love any one. I am aweary of my life.
+And to think that, but for that diamond--oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!”
+
+Then Dick used to try and comfort her in his way, and often put his arm
+round her neck, and gave her his rough but honest sympathy. Dick's rare
+affection was her one drop of comfort; it was something to relieve her
+swelling heart.
+
+“Oh, Dick!” she said to him one night, “I wish I had married him.”
+
+“What, to be ill-used?”
+
+“He couldn't use me worse. I have been wife, and mother, and sweetheart,
+and all, to him; and to be left like this. He treats me like the dirt
+beneath his feet.”
+
+“'Tis your own fault, Phoebe, partly. You say the word, and I'll break
+every bone in his carcass.”
+
+“What, do him a mischief! Why, I'd rather die than harm a hair of his
+head. You must never lift a hand to him, or I shall hate you.”
+
+“Hate ME, Phoebe?”
+
+“Ay, boy: I should. God forgive me: 'tis no use deceiving ourselves;
+when a woman loves a man she despises, never you come between them;
+there's no reason in her love, so it is incurable. One comfort, it can't
+go on forever; it must kill me, before my time and so best. If I was
+only a mother, and had a little Reginald to dandle on my knee and gloat
+upon, till he spent his money, and came back to me. That's why I said I
+wished I was his wife. Oh! why does God fill a poor woman's bosom with
+love, and nothing to spend it on but a stone; for sure his heart must be
+one. If I had only something that would let me always love it, a little
+toddling thing at my knee, that would always let me look at it, and love
+it, something too young to be false to me, too weak to run away from my
+long--ing--arms--and--year--ning heart!” Then came a burst of agony,
+and moans of desolation, till poor puzzled Dick blubbered loudly at her
+grief; and then her tears flowed in streams.
+
+Trouble on trouble. Dick himself got strangely out of sorts, and
+complained of shivers. Phoebe sent him to bed early, and made him some
+white wine whey very hot. In the morning he got up, and said he was
+better; but after breakfast he was violently sick, and suffered several
+returns of nausea before noon. “One would think I was poisoned,” said
+he.
+
+At one o'clock he was seized with a kind of spasm in the throat that
+lasted so long it nearly choked him.
+
+Then Phoebe got frightened, and sent to the nearest surgeon. He did not
+hurry, and poor Dick had another frightful spasm just as he came in.
+
+“It is hysterical,” said the surgeon. “No disease of the heart, is
+there? Give him a little sal-volatile every half hour.”
+
+In spite of the sal-volatile these terrible spasms seized him every half
+hour; and now he used to spring off the bed with a cry of terror when
+they came; and each one left him weaker and weaker; he had to be carried
+back by the women.
+
+A sad, sickening fear seized on Phoebe. She left Dick with the maid, and
+tying on her bonnet in a moment, rushed wildly down the street, asking
+the neighbors for a great doctor, the best that could be had for money.
+One sent her east a mile, another west, and she was almost distracted,
+when who should drive up but Dr. and Mrs. Staines, to make purchases.
+She did not know his name, but she knew he was a doctor. She ran to the
+window, and cried, “Oh, doctor, my brother! Oh, pray come to him. Oh!
+oh!”
+
+Dr. Staines got quickly, but calmly, out; told his wife to wait; and
+followed Phoebe up-stairs. She told him in a few agitated words how Dick
+had been taken, and all the symptoms; especially what had alarmed her
+so, his springing off the bed when the spasm came.
+
+Dr. Staines told her to hold the patient up. He lost not a moment, but
+opened his mouth resolutely, and looked down.
+
+“The glottis is swollen,” said he: then he felt his hands, and said,
+with the grave, terrible calm of experience, “He is dying.”
+
+“Oh, no! no! Oh, doctor, save him! save him!”
+
+“Nothing can save him, unless we had a surgeon on the spot. Yes, I might
+save him, if you have the courage: opening his windpipe before the next
+spasm is his one chance.”
+
+“Open his windpipe! Oh, doctor! It will kill him. Let me look at you.”
+
+She looked hard in his face. It gave her confidence.
+
+“Is it the only chance?”
+
+“The only one: and it is flying while we chatter.”
+
+“DO IT.”
+
+He whipped out his lancet.
+
+“But I can't look on it. I trust to you and my Saviour's mercy.”
+
+She fell on her knees, and bowed her head in prayer.
+
+Staines seized a basin, put it by the bedside, made an incision in
+the windpipe, and got Dick down on his stomach, with his face over the
+bedside. Some blood ran, but not much. “Now!” he cried, cheerfully, “a
+small bellows! There's one in your parlor. Run.”
+
+Phoebe ran for it, and at Dr. Staines' direction lifted Dick a little,
+while the bellows, duly cleansed, were gently applied to the aperture
+in the windpipe, and the action of the lungs delicately aided by this
+primitive but effectual means.
+
+He showed Phoebe how to do it, tore a leaf out of his pocket-book, wrote
+a hasty direction to an able surgeon near, and sent his wife off with it
+in the carriage.
+
+Phoebe and he never left the patient till the surgeon came with all the
+instruments required; amongst the rest, with a big, tortuous pair of
+nippers, with which he could reach the glottis, and snip it. But they
+consulted, and thought it wiser to continue the surer method; and so
+a little tube was neatly inserted into Dick's windpipe, and his throat
+bandaged; and by this aperture he did his breathing for some little
+time.
+
+Phoebe nursed him like a mother; and the terror and the joy did her
+good, and made her less desolate.
+
+Dick was only just well when both of them were summoned to the farm,
+and arrived only just in time to receive their father's blessing and his
+last sigh.
+
+Their elder brother, a married man, inherited the farm, and was
+executor. Phoebe and Dick were left fifteen hundred pounds apiece, on
+condition of their leaving England and going to Natal.
+
+They knew directly what that meant. Phoebe was to be parted from a bad
+man, and Dick was to comfort her for the loss.
+
+When this part of the will was read to Phoebe, she turned faint, and
+only her health and bodily vigor kept her from swooning right away.
+
+But she yielded. “It is the will of the dead,” said she, “and I will
+obey it; for, oh, if I had but listened to him more when he was alive to
+advise me, I should not sit here now, sick at heart and dry-eyed, when I
+ought to be thinking only of the good friend that is gone.”
+
+When she had come to this she became feverishly anxious to be gone. She
+busied herself in purchasing agricultural machines, and stores, and even
+stock; and to see her pinching the beasts' ribs to find their condition,
+and parrying all attempts to cheat her, you would never have believed
+she could be a love-sick woman.
+
+Dick kept her up to the mark. He only left her to bargain with the
+master of a good vessel; for it was no trifle to take out horses and
+cows, and machines, and bales of cloth, cotton, and linen.
+
+When that was settled they came in to town together, and Phoebe bought
+shrewdly, at wholesale houses in the city, for cash, and would have
+bargains: and the little shop in ----- Street was turned into a
+warehouse.
+
+They were all ardor, as colonists should be; and what pleased Dick most,
+she never mentioned Falcon; yet he learned from the maid that worthy had
+been there twice, looking very seedy.
+
+The day drew near. Dick was in high spirits.
+
+“We shall soon make our fortune out there,” he said; “and I'll get you a
+good husband.”
+
+She shuddered, but said nothing.
+
+The evening before they were to sail, Phoebe sat alone, in her black
+dress, tired with work, and asking herself, sick at heart, could she
+ever really leave England, when the door opened softly, and Reginald
+Falcon, shabbily dressed, came in, and threw himself into a chair.
+
+She started up with a scream, then sank down again, trembling, and
+turned her face to the wall.
+
+“So you are going to run away from me!” said he savagely.
+
+“Ay, Reginald,” said she meekly.
+
+“This is your fine love, is it?”
+
+“You have worn it out, dear,” she said softly, without turning her head
+from the wall.
+
+“I wish I could say as much; but, curse it, every time I leave you I
+learn to love you more. I am never really happy but when I am with you.”
+
+“Bless you for saying that, dear. I often thought you MUST find that out
+one day; but you took too long.”
+
+“Oh, better late than never. Phoebe! Can you have the heart to go to the
+Cape, and leave me all alone in the world, with nobody that really cares
+for me? Surely you are not obliged to go.”
+
+“Yes; my father left Dick and me fifteen hundred pounds apiece to go:
+that was the condition. Poor Dick loves his unhappy sister. He won't go
+without me--I should be his ruin--poor Dick, that really loves me;
+and he lay a-dying here, and the good doctor and me--God bless him--we
+brought him back from the grave. Ah, you little know what I have
+gone through. You were not here. Catch you being near me when I am in
+trouble. There, I must go. I must go. I will go; if I fling myself into
+the sea half way.”
+
+“And, if you do, I'll take a dose of poison; for I have thrown away the
+truest heart, the sweetest, most unselfish, kindest, generous--oh! oh!
+oh!”
+
+And he began to howl.
+
+This set Phoebe sobbing. “Don't cry, dear,” she murmured through her
+tears; “if you have really any love for me, come with me.”
+
+“What, leave England, and go to a desert?”
+
+“Love can make a desert a garden.”
+
+“Phoebe, I'll do anything else. I'll swear not to leave your side. I'll
+never look at any other face but yours. But I can't live in Africa.”
+
+“I know you can't. It takes a little real love to go there with a poor
+girl like me. Ah, well, I'd have made you so happy. We are not poor
+emigrants. I have a horse for you to ride, and guns to shoot; and me and
+Dick would do all the work for you. But there are others here you can't
+leave for me. Well, then, good-by, dear. In Africa, or here, I shall
+always love you; and many a salt tear I shall shed for you yet, many a
+one I have, as well you know. God bless you. Pray for poor Phoebe, that
+goes against her will to Africa, and leaves her heart with thee.”
+
+This was too much even for the selfish Reginald. He kneeled at her
+knees, and took her hand, and kissed it, and actually shed a tear or two
+over it.
+
+She could not speak. He had no hope of changing her resolution; and
+presently he heard Dick's voice outside, so he got up to avoid him.
+“I'll come again in the morning, before you go.”
+
+“Oh, no! no!” she gasped. “Unless you want me to die at your feet. I am
+almost dead now.”
+
+Reginald slipped out by the kitchen.
+
+Dick came in, and found his sister leaning with her head back against
+the wall. “Why, Phoebe,” said he, “whatever is the matter?” and he took
+her by the shoulder.
+
+She moaned, and he felt her all limp and powerless.
+
+“What is it, lass? Whatever is the matter? Is it about going away?”
+
+She would not speak for a long time.
+
+When she did speak, it was to say something for which my male reader may
+not be prepared. But it will not surprise the women.
+
+“O Dick--forgive me!”
+
+“Why, what for?”
+
+“Forgive me, or else kill me: I don't care which.”
+
+“I do, though. There, I forgive you. Now what's your crime?”
+
+“I can't go. Forgive me!”
+
+“Can't go?”
+
+“I can't. Forgive me!”
+
+“I'm blessed if I don't believe that vagabond has been here tormenting
+of you again.”
+
+“Oh, don't miscall him. He is penitent. Yes, Dick, he has been here
+crying to me--and I can't leave him. I can't--I can't. Dear Dick! you
+are young and stout-hearted; take all the things over, and make your
+fortune out there, and leave your poor foolish sister behind. I should
+only fling myself into the salt sea if I left him now, and that would be
+peace to me, but a grief to thee.”
+
+“Lordsake, Phoebe, don't talk so. I can't go without you. And do but
+think, why, the horses are on board by now, and all the gear. It's my
+belief a good hiding is all you want, to bring you to your senses; but
+I han't the heart to give you one, worse luck. Blessed if I know what to
+say or do.”
+
+“I won't go!” cried Phoebe, turning violent all of a sudden. “No, not if
+I am dragged to the ship by the hair of my head. Forgive me!” And with
+that word she was a mouse again.
+
+“Eh, but women are kittle cattle to drive,” said poor Dick ruefully. And
+down he sat at a nonplus, and very unhappy.
+
+Phoebe sat opposite, sullen, heart-sick, wretched to the core; but
+determined not to leave Reginald.
+
+Then came an event that might have been foreseen, yet it took them both
+by surprise.
+
+A light step was heard, and a graceful, though seedy, figure entered the
+room with a set speech in his mouth: “Phoebe, you are right. I owe it to
+your long and faithful affection to make a sacrifice for you. I will go
+to Africa with you. I will go to the end of the world, sooner than you
+shall say I care for any woman on earth but you.”
+
+Both brother and sister were so unprepared for this, that they could
+hardly realize it at first.
+
+Phoebe turned her great, inquiring eyes on the speaker, and it was
+a sight to see amazement, doubt, hope, and happiness animating her
+features, one after another.
+
+“Is this real?” said she.
+
+“I will sail with you to-morrow, Phoebe; and I will make you a good
+husband, if you will have me.”
+
+“That is spoke like a man,” said Dick. “You take him at his word,
+Phoebe; and if he ill-uses you out there, I'll break every bone in his
+skin.”
+
+“How dare you threaten him?” said Phoebe. “You had best leave the room.”
+
+Out went poor Dick, with the tear in his eye at being snubbed so. While
+he was putting up the shutters, Phoebe was making love to her pseudo
+penitent. “My dear,” said she, “trust yourself to me. You don't know all
+my love yet; for I have never been your wife, and I would not be your
+jade; that is the only thing I ever refused you. Trust yourself to me.
+Why, you never found happiness with others; try it with me. It shall
+be the best day's work you ever did, going out in the ship with me. You
+don't know how happy a loving wife can make her husband. I'll pet you
+out there as man was never petted. And besides, it isn't for life; Dick
+and me will soon make a fortune out there, and then I'll bring you home,
+and see you spend it any way you like but one. Oh, how I love you! do
+you love me a little? I worship the ground you walk on. I adore every
+hair of your head!” Her noble arm went round his neck in a moment, and
+the grandeur of her passion electrified him so far that he kissed her
+affectionately, if not quite so warmly as she did him: and so it was all
+settled. The maid was discharged that night instead of the morning, and
+Reginald was to occupy her bed. Phoebe went up-stairs with her heart
+literally on fire, to prepare his sleeping-room, and so Dick and
+Reginald had a word.
+
+“I say, Dick, how long will this voyage be?”
+
+“Two months, sir, I am told.”
+
+“Please to cast your eyes on this suit of mine. Don't you think it is
+rather seedy--to go to Africa with? Why, I shall disgrace you on board
+the ship. I say, Dick, lend me three sovs., just to buy a new suit at
+the slop-shop.”
+
+“Well, brother-in-law,” said Dick, “I don't see any harm in that. I'll
+go and fetch them for you.”
+
+What does this sensible Dick do but go up-stairs to Phoebe, and say, “He
+wants three pounds to buy a suit; am I to lend it him?”
+
+Phoebe was shaking and patting her penitent's pillow. She dropped it
+on the bed in dismay. “Oh, Dick, not for all the world! Why, if he had
+three sovereigns, he'd desert me at the water's edge. Oh, God help me,
+how I love him! God forgive me, how I mistrust him! Good Dick! kind
+Dick! say we have suits of clothes, and we'll fit him like a prince,
+as he ought to be, on board ship; but not a shilling of money: and, my
+dear, don't put the weight on ME. You understand?”
+
+“Ay, mistress, I understand.”
+
+“Good Dick!”
+
+“Oh, all right! and then don't you snap this here good, kind Dick's nose
+off at a word again.”
+
+“Never. I get wild if anybody threatens him. Then I'm not myself.
+Forgive my hasty tongue. You know I love you, dear!”
+
+“Oh, ay! you love me well enough. But seems to me your love is precious
+like cold veal, and your love for that chap is hot roast beef.”
+
+“Ha, ha, ha, ha!”
+
+“Oh, ye can laugh now, can ye?”
+
+“Ha, ha, ha!”
+
+“Well, the more of that music, the better for me.”
+
+“Yes, dear; but go and tell him.”
+
+Dick went down, and said, “I've got no money to spare, till I get to the
+Cape; but Phoebe has got a box full of suits, and I made her promise to
+keep it out. She will dress you like a prince, you may be sure.”
+
+“Oh, that is it, is it?” said Reginald dryly.
+
+Dick made no reply.
+
+At nine o'clock they were on board the vessel; at ten she weighed
+anchor, and a steam-vessel drew her down the river about thirty miles,
+then cast off, and left her to the south-easterly breeze. Up went sail
+after sail; she nodded her lofty head, and glided away for Africa.
+
+Phoebe shed a few natural tears at leaving the shores of Old England;
+but they soon dried. She was demurely happy, watching her prize, and
+asking herself had she really secured it, and all in a few hours?
+
+They had a prosperous voyage: were married at Cape Town, and went up
+the country, bag and baggage, looking out for a good bargain in land.
+Reginald was mounted on an English horse, and allowed to zigzag about,
+and shoot, and play, while his wife and brother-in-law marched slowly
+with their cavalcade.
+
+What with air, exercise, wholesome food, and smiles of welcome, and
+delicious petting, this egotist enjoyed himself finely. He admitted as
+much. Says he, one evening to his wife, who sat by him for the pleasure
+of seeing him feed, “It sounds absurd; but I never was so happy in all
+my life.”
+
+At that, the celestial expression of her pastoral face, and the maternal
+gesture with which she drew her pet's head to her queenly bosom, was a
+picture for celibacy to gnash the teeth at.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+During this period, the most remarkable things that happened to Dr. and
+Mrs. Staines were really those which I have related as connecting them
+with Phoebe Dale and her brother; to which I will now add that Dr.
+Staines detailed Dick's case in a remarkable paper, entitled “Oedema of
+the Glottis,” and showed how the patient had been brought back from
+the grave by tracheotomy and artificial respiration. He received a high
+price for this article.
+
+To tell the truth, he was careful not to admit that it was he who had
+opened the windpipe; so the credit of the whole operation was given to
+Mr. Jenkyn; and this gentleman was naturally pleased, and threw a good
+many consultation fees in Staines's way.
+
+The Lucases, to his great comfort--for he had an instinctive aversion to
+Miss Lucas--left London for Paris in August, and did not return all the
+year.
+
+In February he reviewed his year's work and twelve months' residence in
+the Bijou. The pecuniary result was, outgoings, nine hundred and fifty
+pounds; income, from fees, two hundred and eighty pounds; writing,
+ninety pounds.
+
+He showed these figures to Mrs. Staines, and asked her if she
+could suggest any diminution of expenditure. Could she do with less
+housekeeping money?
+
+“Oh, impossible! You cannot think how the servants eat; and they won't
+touch our home-made bread.”
+
+“The fools! Why?”
+
+“Oh, because they think it costs us less. Servants seem to me always to
+hate the people whose bread they eat.”
+
+“More likely it is their vanity. Nothing that is not paid for before
+their eyes seems good enough for them. Well, dear, the bakers will
+revenge us. But is there any other item we could reduce? Dress?”
+
+“Dress! Why, I spend nothing.”
+
+“Forty-five pounds this year.”
+
+“Well, I shall want none next year.”
+
+“Well, then, Rosa, as there is nothing we can reduce, I must write more,
+and take more fees, or we shall be in the wrong box. Only eight hundred
+and sixty pounds left of our little capital; and, mind, we have not
+another shilling in the world. One comfort, there is no debt. We pay
+ready money for everything.”
+
+Rosa colored a little, but said nothing.
+
+Staines did his part nobly. He read; he wrote; he paced the yard. He
+wore his old clothes in the house; he took off his new ones when he came
+in. He was all genius, drudgery, patience.
+
+How Phoebe Dale would have valued him, co-operated with him, and petted
+him, if she had had the good luck to be his wife!
+
+The season came back, and with it Miss Lucas, towing a brilliant bride,
+Mrs. Vivian, young, rich, pretty, and gay, with a waist you could span,
+and athirst for pleasure.
+
+This lady was the first that ever made Rosa downright jealous. She
+seemed to have everything the female heart could desire; and she was No.
+1 with Miss Lucas this year. Now, Rosa was No. 1 last season, and had
+weakly imagined that was to last forever. But Miss Lucas had always a
+sort of female flame, and it never lasted two seasons.
+
+Rosa did not care so very much for Miss Lucas before, except as a
+convenient friend; but now she was mortified to tears at finding Miss
+Lucas made more fuss with another than with her.
+
+This foolish feeling spurred her to attempt a rivalry with Mrs. Vivian,
+in the very things where rivalry was hopeless.
+
+Miss Lucas gave both ladies tickets for a flower-show, where all the
+great folk were to be, princes and princesses, etc.
+
+“But I have nothing to wear,” sighed Rosa.
+
+“Then you must get something, and mind it is not pink, please; for we
+must not clash in colors. You know I'm dark, and pink becomes me. (The
+selfish young brute was not half so dark as Rosa.) Mine is coming
+from Worth's, in Paris, on purpose. And this new Madame Cie, of Regent
+Street, has such a duck of a bonnet, just come from Paris. She wanted
+to make me one from it; but I told her I would have none but the pattern
+bonnet--and she knows very well she can't pass a copy off on me. Let
+me drive you up there, and you can see mine, and order one, if you like
+it.”
+
+“Oh, thank you! let me just run and speak to my husband first.”
+
+Staines was writing for the bare life, and a number of German books
+about him, slaving to make a few pounds--when in comes the buoyant
+figure and beaming face his soul delighted in.
+
+He laid down his work, to enjoy the sunbeam of love.
+
+“Oh, darling, I've only come in for a minute. We are going to
+a flower-show on the 13th; everybody will be so beautifully
+dressed--especially that Mrs. Vivian. I have got ten yards of beautiful
+blue silk in my wardrobe, but that is not enough to make a whole
+dress--everything takes so much stuff now. Madame Cie does not care
+to make up dresses unless she finds the silk, but Miss Lucas says she
+thinks, to oblige a friend of hers, she would do it for once in a way.
+You know, dear, it would only take a few yards more, and it would last
+as a dinner-dress for ever so long.”
+
+Then she clasped him round the neck, and leaned her head upon his
+shoulder, and looked lovingly up in his face. “I know you would like
+your Rosa to look as well as Mrs. Vivian.”
+
+“No one ever looks as well, in my eyes, as my Rosa. There, the dress
+will add nothing to your beauty; but go and get it, to please yourself;
+it is very considerate of you to have chosen something of which you have
+ten yards, already. See, dear, I'm to receive twenty pounds for this
+article; if research was paid it ought to be a hundred. I shall add it
+all to your allowance for dresses this year. So no debt, mind; but come
+to me for everything.”
+
+The two ladies drove off to Madame Cie's, a pretty shop lined with dark
+velvet and lace draperies.
+
+In the back room they were packing a lovely bridal dress, going off the
+following Saturday to New York.
+
+“What, send from America to London?”
+
+“Oh, dear, yes!” exclaimed Madame Cie. “The American ladies are
+excellent customers. They buy everything of the best, and the most
+expensive.”
+
+“I have brought a new customer,” said Miss Lucas; “and I want you to do
+a great favor, and that is to match a blue silk, and make her a pretty
+dress for the flower-show on the 13th.”
+
+Madame Cie produced a white muslin polonaise, which she was just going
+to send home to the Princess -----, to be worn over mauve.
+
+“Oh, how pretty and simple!” exclaimed Miss Lucas.
+
+“I have some lace exactly like that,” said Mrs. Staines.
+
+“Then why don't you have a polonaise? The lace is the only expensive
+part, the muslin is a mere nothing; and it is such a useful dress, it
+can be worn over any silk.”
+
+It was agreed Madame Cie was to send for the blue silk and the lace, and
+the dresses were to be tried on on Thursday.
+
+On Thursday, as Rosa went gayly into Madame Cie's back room to have the
+dresses tried on, Madame Cie said, “You have a beautiful lace shawl,
+but it wants arranging; in five minutes I could astonish you with what I
+could do to that shawl.”
+
+“Oh, pray do,” said Mrs. Staines.
+
+The dressmaker kept her word. By the time the blue dress was tried on,
+Madame Cie had, with the aid of a few pins, plaits, and a bow of blue
+ribbon, transformed the half lace shawl into one of the smartest and
+distingue things imaginable; but when the bill came in at Christmas,
+for that five minutes' labor and distingue touch, she charged one pound
+eight.
+
+Madame Cie then told the ladies, in an artfully confidential tone,
+she had a quantity of black silk coming home, which she had purchased
+considerably below cost price; and that she should like to make them
+each a dress--not for her own sake, but theirs--as she knew they would
+never meet such a bargain again. “You know, Miss Lucas,” she continued,
+“we don't want our money, when we know our customers. Christmas is soon
+enough for us.”
+
+“Christmas is a long time off,” thought the young wife, “nearly ten
+months. I think I'll have a black silk, Madame Cie; but I must not
+say anything to the doctor about it just yet, or he might think me
+extravagant.”
+
+“No one can ever think a lady extravagant for buying a black silk; it's
+such a useful dress; lasts forever--almost.”
+
+Days, weeks, and months rolled on, and with them an ever-rolling tide of
+flower-shows, dinners, at-homes, balls, operas, lawn-parties, concerts,
+and theatres.
+
+Strange that in one house there should be two people who loved each
+other, yet their lives ran so far apart, except while they were asleep:
+the man all industry, self-denial, patience; the woman all frivolity,
+self-indulgence, and amusement; both chained to an oar, only--one in a
+working boat, the other in a painted galley.
+
+The woman got tired first, and her charming color waned sadly. She came
+to him for medicine to set her up. “I feel so languid.”
+
+“No, no,” said he; “no medicine can do the work of wholesome food and
+rational repose. You lack the season of all natures, sleep. Dine at home
+three days running, and go to bed at ten.”
+
+On this the doctor's wife went to a chemist for advice. He gave her
+a pink stimulant; and, as stimulants have two effects, viz., first to
+stimulate, and then to weaken, this did her no lasting good. Dr. Staines
+cursed the London season, and threatened to migrate to Liverpool.
+
+But there was worse behind.
+
+Returning one day to his dressing-room, just after Rosa had come
+down-stairs, he caught sight of a red stain in a wash-hand-basin. He
+examined it; it was arterial blood.
+
+He went to her directly, and expressed his anxiety.
+
+“Oh, it is nothing,” said she.
+
+“Nothing! Pray, how often has it occurred?”
+
+“Once or twice. I must take your advice, and be quiet, that is all.”
+
+Staines examined the housemaid; she lied instinctively at first, seeing
+he was alarmed; but, being urged to tell the truth, said she had seen it
+repeatedly, and had told the cook.
+
+He went down-stairs again, and sat down, looking wretched.
+
+“Oh, dear!” said Rosa. “What is the matter now?”
+
+“Rosa,” said he, very gravely, “there are two people a woman is mad to
+deceive--her husband and her physician. You have deceived both.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+I suspect Dr. Staines merely meant to say that she had concealed from
+him an alarming symptom for several weeks; but she answered in a hurry,
+to excuse herself, and let the cat out of the bag--excuse my vulgarity.
+
+“It was all that Mrs. Vivian's fault. She laughed at me so for not
+wearing them; and she has a waist you can span--the wretch!”
+
+“Oh, then, you have been wearing stays clandestinely?”
+
+“Why, you know I have. Oh, what a stupid! I have let it all out.”
+
+“How could you do it, when you knew, by experience, it is your death?”
+
+“But it looks so beautiful, a tiny waist.”
+
+“It looks as hideous as a Chinese foot, and, to the eye of science, far
+more disgusting; it is the cause of so many unlovely diseases.”
+
+“Just tell me one thing; have you looked at Mrs. Vivian?”
+
+“Minutely. I look at all your friends with great anxiety, knowing no
+animal more dangerous than a fool. Vivian--a skinny woman, with a pretty
+face, lovely hair, good teeth, dying eyes”--
+
+“Yes, lovely!”
+
+“A sure proof of a disordered stomach--and a waist pinched in so
+unnaturally, that I said to myself, 'Where on earth does this idiot put
+her liver?' Did you ever read of the frog who burst, trying to swell to
+an ox? Well, here is the rivalry reversed; Mrs. Vivian is a bag of bones
+in a balloon; she can machine herself into a wasp; but a fine young
+woman like you, with flesh and muscle, must kill yourself three or four
+times before you can make your body as meagre, hideous, angular, and
+unnatural as Vivian's. But all you ladies are mono-maniacs; one might as
+well talk sense to a gorilla. It brought you to the edge of the grave.
+I saved you. Yet you could go and--God grant me patience. So I suppose
+these unprincipled women lent you their stays to deceive your husband?”
+
+“No. But they laughed at me so that--Oh, Christie, I'm a wretch; I kept
+a pair at the Lucases, and a pair at Madame Cie's, and I put them on now
+and then.”
+
+“But you never appeared here in them?”
+
+“What, before my tyrant? Oh no, I dared not.”
+
+“So you took them off before you came home?”
+
+Rosa hung her head, and said “Yes” in a reluctant whisper.
+
+“You spent your daylight dressing. You dressed to go out; dressed again
+in stays; dressed again without them; and all to deceive your husband,
+and kill yourself, at the bidding of two shallow, heartless women, who
+would dance over your grave without a pang of remorse, or sentiment of
+any kind, since they live, like midges, ONLY TO DANCE IN THE SUN, AND
+SUCK SOME WORKER'S BLOOD.”
+
+“Oh, Christie! I'm so easily led. I am too great a fool to live. Kill
+me!”
+
+And she kneeled down, and renewed the request, looking up in his face
+with an expression that might have disarmed Cain ipsum.
+
+He smiled superior. “The question is, are you sorry you have been so
+thoughtless?”
+
+“Yes, dear. Oh! oh!”
+
+“Will you be very good to make up?”
+
+“Oh, yes. Only tell me how; for it does not come natural to poor me.”
+
+“Keep out of those women's way for the rest of the season.”
+
+“I will.”
+
+“Bring your stays home, and allow me to do what I like with them.”
+
+“Of course. Cut them in a million pieces.”
+
+“Till you are recovered, you must be my patient, and go nowhere without
+me.”
+
+“That is no punishment, I am sure.”
+
+“Punishment! Am I the man to punish you? I only want to save you.”
+
+“Well, darling, it won't be the first time.”
+
+“No; but I do hope it will be the last.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+“Sublata causa tollitur effectus.” The stays being gone, and dissipation
+moderated, Mrs. Staines bloomed again, and they gave one or two
+unpretending little dinners at the Bijou. Dr. Staines admitted no false
+friends to these. They never went beyond eight; five gentlemen, three
+ladies. By this arrangement the terrible discursiveness of the fair, and
+man's cruel disposition to work a subject threadbare, were controlled
+and modified, and a happy balance of conversation established. Lady
+Cicely Treherne was always invited, and always managed to come; for she
+said, “They were the most agweeable little paaties in London, and the
+host and hostess both so intewesting.” In the autumn, Staines worked
+double tides with the pen, and found a vehicle for medical narratives in
+a weekly magazine that did not profess medicine.
+
+This new vein put him in heart. His fees, towards the end of the year,
+were less than last year, because there was no hundred-guinea fee; but
+there was a marked increase in the small fees, and the unflagging pen
+had actually earned him two hundred pounds, or nearly. So he was in good
+spirits.
+
+Not so Mrs. Staines; for some time she had been uneasy, fretful, and
+like a person with a weight on her mind.
+
+One Sunday she said to him, “Oh, dear, I do feel so dull. Nobody to go
+to church with, nor yet to the Zoo.”
+
+“I'll go with you,” said Staines.
+
+“You will! To which?”
+
+“To both; in for a penny, in for a pound.”
+
+So to church they went; and Staines, whose motto was “Hoc age,” minded
+his book. Rosa had intervals of attention to the words, but found plenty
+of time to study the costumes.
+
+During the Litany in bustled Clara, the housemaid, with a white jacket
+on so like her mistress's, that Rosa clutched her own convulsively,
+to see whether she had not been skinned of it by some devilish
+sleight-of-hand.
+
+No, it was on her back; but Clara's was identical.
+
+In her excitement, Rosa pinched Staines, and with her nose, that went
+like a water-wagtail, pointed out the malefactor. Then she whispered,
+“Look! How dare she? My very jacket! Earrings too, and brooches, and
+dresses her hair like mine.”
+
+“Well, never mind,” whispered Staines. “Sunday is her day. We have
+got all the week to shine. There, don't look at her--'From all evil
+speaking, lying, and slandering'”--
+
+“I can't keep my eyes off her.”
+
+“Attend to the Litany. Do you know, this is really a beautiful
+composition?”
+
+“I'd rather do the work fifty times over myself.”
+
+“Hush! people will hear you.”
+
+When they walked home after church, Staines tried to divert her from the
+consideration of her wrongs; but no--all other topics were too flat by
+comparison.
+
+She mourned the hard fate of mistresses--unfortunate creatures that
+could not do without servants.
+
+“Is not that a confession that servants are good, useful creatures,
+with all their faults? Then as to the mania for dress, why, that is not
+confined to them. It is the mania of the sex. Are you free from it?”
+
+“No, of course not. But I am a lady, if you please.”
+
+“Then she is your intellectual inferior, and more excusable. Anyway, it
+is wise to connive at a thing we can't help.”
+
+“What keep her, after this? no, never.”
+
+“My dear, pray do not send her away, for she is tidy in the house, and
+quick, and better than any one we have had this last six months; and you
+know you have tried a great number.”
+
+“To hear you speak, one would think it was my fault that we have so many
+bad servants.”
+
+“I never said it was your fault; but I THINK, dearest, a little more
+forbearance in trifles”--
+
+“Trifles! trifles--for a mistress and maid to be seen dressed alike in
+the same church? You take the servants' part against me, that you do.”
+
+“You should not say that, even in jest. Come now, do you really think
+a jacket like yours can make the servant look like you, or detract from
+your grace and beauty? There is a very simple way; put your jacket by
+for a future occasion, and wear something else in its stead at church.”
+
+“A nice thing, indeed, to give in to these creatures. I won't do it.”
+
+“Why won't you, this once?”
+
+“Because I won't--there!”
+
+“That is unanswerable,” said he.
+
+Mrs. Staines said that; but when it came to acting, she deferred to
+her husband's wish; she resigned her intention of sending for Clara
+and giving her warning. On the contrary, when Clara let her in, and the
+white jackets rubbed together in the narrow passage, she actually said
+nothing, but stalked to her own room, and tore her jacket off, and flung
+it on the floor.
+
+Unfortunately, she was so long dressing for the Zoo, that Clara came
+in to arrange the room. She picks up the white jacket, takes it in both
+hands, gives it a flap, and proceeds to hang it up in the wardrobe.
+
+Then the great feminine heart burst its bounds.
+
+“You can leave that alone. I shall not wear that again.”
+
+Thereupon ensued an uneven encounter, Clara being one of those of whom
+the Scripture says, “The poison of asps is under their tongues.”
+
+“La, ma'am,” said she, “why, 'tain't so very dirty.”
+
+“No; but it is too common.”
+
+“Oh, because I've got one like it. Ay. Missises can't abide a
+good-looking servant, nor to see 'em dressed becoming.”
+
+“Mistresses do not like servants to forget their place, nor wear what
+does not become their situation.”
+
+“My situation! Why, I can pay my way, go where I will. I don't tremble
+at the tradesmen's knock, as some do.”
+
+“Leave the room! Leave it this moment.”
+
+“Leave the room, yes--and I'll leave the house too, and tell all the
+neighbors what I know about it.”
+
+She flounced out and slammed the door; and Rosa sat down, trembling.
+
+Clara rushed to the kitchen, and there told the cook and Andrew Pearman
+how she had given it to the mistress, and every word she had said to
+her, with a good many more she had not.
+
+The cook laughed and encouraged her.
+
+But Andrew Pearman was wroth, and said, “You to affront our mistress
+like that! Why, if I had heard you, I'd have twisted your neck for ye.”
+
+“It would take a better man than you to do that. You mind your own
+business. Stick to your one-horse chay.”
+
+“Well, I'm not above my place, for that matter. But you gals must always
+be aping your betters.”
+
+“I have got a proper pride, that is all, and you haven't. You ought to
+be ashamed of yourself to do two men's work; drive a brougham and wait
+on a horse, and then come in and wait at table, You are a tea-kettle
+groom, that is what you are. Why, my brother was coachman to Lord
+Fitz-James, and gave his lordship notice the first time he had to drive
+the children. Says he, 'I don't object to the children, my lord, but
+with her ladyship in the carriage.' It's such servants as you as spoil
+places. No servant as knows what's due to a servant ought to know you.
+They'd scorn your 'quaintance, as I do, Mr. Pearman.”
+
+“You are a stuck-up hussy, and a soldier's jade,” roared Andrew.
+
+“And you are a low tea-kettle groom.”
+
+This expression wounded the great equestrian soul to the quick; the rest
+of Sunday he pondered on it; the next morning he drove the doctor, as
+usual, but with a heavy heart.
+
+Meantime, the cook made haste and told the baker Pearman had “got it
+hot” from the housemaid, and she had called him a tea-kettle groom; and
+in less than half an hour after that it was in every stable in the mews.
+Why, as Pearman was taking the horse out of the brougham, didn't two
+little red-headed urchins call out, “Here, come and see the tea-kettle
+groom!” and at night some mischievous boy chalked on the black door of
+the stable a large white tea-kettle, and next morning a drunken, idle
+fellow, with a clay pipe in his mouth, and a dirty pair of corduroy
+trousers, no coat, but a shirt very open at the chest, showing inflamed
+skin, the effect of drink, inspected that work of art with blinking eyes
+and vacillating toes, and said, “This comes of a chap doing too much.
+A few more like you, and work would be scarce. A fine thing for
+gentlefolks to make one man fill two places! but it ain't the
+gentlefolks' fault, it's the man as humors 'em.”
+
+Pearman was a peaceable man, and made no reply, but went on with his
+work; only during the day he told his master that he should be obliged
+to him if he would fill his situation as soon as convenient.
+
+The master inquired the cause, and the man told him, and said the mews
+was too hot for him.
+
+The doctor offered him five pounds a year more, knowing he had a
+treasure; but Pearman said, with sadness and firmness, that he had made
+up his mind to go, and go he would.
+
+The doctor's heart fairly sank at the prospect of losing the one
+creature he could depend upon.
+
+Next Sunday evening Clara was out, and fell in with friends, to whom she
+exaggerated her grievance.
+
+Then they worked her up to fury, after the manner of servants' FRIENDS.
+She came home, packed her box, brought it down, and then flounced into
+the room to Doctor and Mrs. Staines, and said, “I shan't sleep another
+night in this house.”
+
+Rosa was about to speak, but Dr. Staines forbade her: he said, “You had
+better think twice of that. You are a good servant, though for once
+you have been betrayed into speaking disrespectfully. Why forfeit your
+character, and three weeks' wages?”
+
+“I don't care for my wages. I won't stay in such a house as this.”
+
+“Come, you must not be impertinent.”
+
+“I don't mean to, sir,” said she, lowering her voice suddenly; then,
+raising it as suddenly, “There are my keys, ma'am, and you can search my
+box.”
+
+“Mrs. Staines will not search your box; and you will retire at once to
+your own part of the house.”
+
+“I'll go farther than that,” said she, and soon after the street door
+was slammed; the Bijou shook.
+
+At six o'clock next morning, she came for her box. It had been put away
+for safety. Pearman told her she must wait till the doctor came down.
+She did not wait, but went at eleven A.M. to a police-magistrate, and
+took out a summons against Dr. Staines, for detaining a box containing
+certain articles specified--value under fifteen pounds.
+
+When Dr. Staines heard she had been for her box, but left no address,
+he sent Pearman to hunt for her. He could not find her. She avoided the
+house, but sent a woman for her diurnal love letters. Dr. Staines sent
+the woman back to fetch her. She came, received her box, her letters,
+and the balance of her wages, which was small, for Staines deducted the
+three weeks' wages.
+
+Two days afterwards, to his surprise, the summons was served.
+
+Out of respect for a court of justice, however humble, Dr. Staines
+attended next Monday to meet the summons.
+
+The magistrate was an elderly man, with a face shaped like a hog's, but
+much richer in color, being purple and pimply; so foul a visage Staines
+had rarely seen, even in the lowest class of the community.
+
+Clara swore that her box had been opened, and certain things stolen out
+of it; and that she had been refused the box next morning.
+
+Staines swore that he had never opened the box, and that, if any one
+else had, it was with her consent, for she had left the keys for that
+purpose. He bade the magistrate observe that if a servant went away like
+this, and left no address, she put it out of the master's POWER to send
+her box after her; and he proved he had some trouble to force the box on
+her.
+
+The pig-faced beak showed a manifest leaning towards the servant, but
+there wasn't a leg to stand on; and he did not believe, nor was it
+credible, that anything had been stolen out of her box.
+
+At this moment, Pearman, sent by Rosa, entered the court with an
+old gown of Clara's that had been discovered in the scullery, and a
+scribbling-book of the doctor's, which Clara had appropriated, and
+written amorous verses in, very superior--in number--to those that have
+come down to us from Anacreon.
+
+“Hand me those,” said the pig-faced beak.
+
+“What are they, Dr. Staines?”
+
+“I really don't know. I must ask my servant.”
+
+“Why, more things of mine that have been detained,” said Clara.
+
+“Some things that have been found since she left,” said Staines.
+
+“Oh! those that hide know where to find.”
+
+“Young woman,” said Staines, “do not insult those whose bread you have
+eaten, and who have given you many presents besides your wages. Since
+you are so ready to accuse people of stealing, permit me to say that
+this book is mine, and not yours; and yet, you see, it is sent after you
+because you have written your trash in it.”
+
+The purple, pig-faced beak went instantly out of the record, and wasted
+a deal of time reading Clara's poetry, and trying to be witty. He raised
+the question whose book this was. The girl swore that it WAS given her
+by a lady who was now in Rome. Staines swore he bought it of a certain
+stationer, and happening to have his passbook in his pocket, produced an
+entry corresponding with the date of the book.
+
+The pig-faced beak said that the doctor's was an improbable story, and
+that the gown and the book were quite enough to justify the summons.
+Verdict, one guinea costs.
+
+“What, because two things she never demanded have been found and sent
+after her? This is monstrous. I shall appeal to your superiors.”
+
+“If you are impertinent I'll fine you five pounds.”
+
+“Very well, sir. Now hear me: if this is an honest judgment, I pray God
+I may be dead before the year's out; and, if it isn't, I pray God you
+may be.”
+
+Then the pig-faced beak fired up, and threatened to fine him for
+blaspheming.
+
+He deigned no reply, but paid the guinea, and Clara swept out of the
+court, with a train a yard long, and leaning on the arm of a scarlet
+soldier who avenged Dr. Staines with military promptitude.
+
+Christopher went home raging internally, for hitherto he had never seen
+so gross a case of injustice.
+
+One of his humble patients followed him, and said, “I wish I had known,
+sir; you shouldn't have come here to be insulted. Why, no gentleman
+can ever get justice against a servant girl when HE is sitting. It is
+notorious, and that makes these hussies so bold. I've seen that jade
+here with the same story twice afore.”
+
+Staines reached home more discomposed than he could have himself
+believed. The reason was that barefaced injustice in a court of justice
+shook his whole faith in man. He opened the street door with his
+latch-key, and found two men standing in the passage. He inquired what
+they wanted.
+
+“Well, sir,” said one of them, civilly enough, “we only want our due.”
+
+“For what?”
+
+“For goods delivered at this house, sir. Balance of account.” And he
+handed him a butcher's bill, L88, 11s. 5 1/2d.
+
+“You must be mistaken; we run no bills here. We pay ready money for
+everything.”
+
+“Well, sir,” said the butcher, “there have been payments; but the
+balance has always been gaining; and we have been put off so often, we
+determined to see the master. Show you the books, sir, and welcome.”
+
+“This instant, if you please.” He took the butcher's address, who then
+retired, and the other tradesman, a grocer, told him a similar tale;
+balance, sixty pounds odd.
+
+He went to the butcher's, sick at heart, inspected the books, and saw
+that, right or wrong, they were incontrovertible; that debt had been
+gaining slowly, but surely, almost from the time he confided the
+accounts to his wife. She had kept faith with him about five weeks, no
+more.
+
+The grocer's books told a similar tale.
+
+The debtor put his hand to his heart, and stood a moment. The very
+grocer pitied him, and said, “There's no harry, doctor; a trifle on
+account, if settlement in full not convenient just now. I see you have
+been kept in the dark.”
+
+“No, no,” said Christopher; “I'll pay every shilling.” He gave one gulp,
+and hurried away.
+
+At the fishmonger's, the same story, only for a smaller amount.
+
+A bill of nineteen pounds at the very pastrycook's; a place she had
+promised him, as her physician, never to enter.
+
+At the draper's, thirty-seven pounds odd.
+
+In short, wherever she had dealt, the same system: partial payments, and
+ever-growing debt.
+
+Remembering Madame Cie, he drove in a cab to Regent Street, and asked
+for Mrs. Staines's account.
+
+“Shall I send it, sir?”
+
+“No; I will take it with me.”
+
+“Miss Edwards, make out Mrs. Staines's account, if you please.”
+
+Miss Edwards was a good while making it out; but it was ready at last.
+He thrust it into his pocket, without daring to look at it there; but
+he went into Verrey's, and asked for a cup of coffee, and perused the
+document.
+
+The principal items were as follows:--
+
+     May 4.   Re-shaping and repairing elegant lace mantle,  1  8
+              Chip bonnet, feather, and flowers .  .  .  .   4  4
+     May 20.  Making and trimming blue silk dress--material
+               part found .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .   19 19
+              Five yards rich blue silk to match.  .  .  .   4  2
+     June 1.  Polonaise and jacket trimmed with lace--
+                material part found .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  17 17
+     June 8.  One black silk dress, handsomely trimmed
+                with jet guipure and lace .  .  .  .  .  .  49 18
+
+A few shreds and fragments of finery, bought at odd times, swelled the
+bill to L99 11s. 6d.--not to terrify the female mind with three figures.
+
+And let no unsophisticated young lady imagine that the trimmings, which
+constituted three-fourths of this bill, were worth anything. The word
+“lace,” in Madame Cie's bill, invariably meant machine-made trash,
+worth tenpence a yard, but charged eighteen shillings a yard for one
+pennyworth of work in putting it on. Where real lace was used, Madame
+Cie always LET HER CUSTOMERS KNOW IT. Miss Lucas's bill for this year
+contained the two following little items:--
+
+
+     Rich gros de cecile polonaise and jacket to match,
+       trimmed with Chantilly lace and valenciennes .  .  .  68 5
+     Superb robe de chambre, richly trimmed with skunk fur.  40 0
+
+The customer found the stuff; viz., two shawls. Carolina found the nasty
+little pole-cats, and got twenty-four shillings for them; Madame Cie
+found THE REST.
+
+But Christopher Staines had not Miss Lucas's bill to compare his wife's
+with. He could only compare the latter with their income, and with male
+notions of common sense and reason.
+
+He went home, and into his studio, and sat down on his hard beech chair;
+he looked round on his books and his work, and then, for the first time,
+remembered how long and how patiently he had toiled for every hundred
+pounds he had made; and he laid the evidences of his wife's profusion
+and deceit by the side of those signs of painful industry and
+self-denial, and his soul filled with bitterness. “Deceit! deceit!”
+
+Mrs. Staines heard he was in the house, and came to know about the
+trial. She came hurriedly in, and caught him with his head on the table,
+in an attitude of prostration, quite new to him; he raised his head
+directly he heard her, and revealed a face, pale, stern, and wretched.
+
+“Oh! what is the matter now?” said she.
+
+“The matter is what it has always been, if I could only have seen it.
+You have deceived me, and disgraced yourself. Look at those bills.”
+
+“What bills? Oh!”
+
+“You have had an allowance for housekeeping.”
+
+“It wasn't enough.”
+
+“It was plenty, if you had kept faith with me, and paid ready money. It
+was enough for the first five weeks. I am housekeeper now, and I shall
+allow myself two pounds a week less, and not owe a shilling either.”
+
+“Well, all I know is, I couldn't do it: no woman could.”
+
+“Then, you should have come to me, and said so; and I would have shown
+you how. Was I in Egypt, or at the North Pole, that you could not find
+me, to treat me like a friend? You have ruined us: these debts will
+sweep away the last shilling of our little capital; but it isn't that,
+oh, no! it is the miserable deceit.”
+
+Rosa's eye caught the sum total of Madame Cie's bill, and she turned
+pale. “Oh, what a cheat that woman is!”
+
+But she turned paler when Christopher said, “That is the one honest
+bill; for I gave you leave. It is these that part us: these! these! Look
+at them, false heart! There, go and pack up your things. We can live
+here no longer; we are ruined. I must send you back to your father.”
+
+“I thought you would, sooner or later,” said Mrs. Staines, panting,
+trembling, but showing a little fight. “He told you I wasn't fit to be a
+poor man's wife.”
+
+“An honest man's wife, you mean: that is what you are not fit for. You
+will go home to your father, and I shall go into some humble lodging to
+work for you. I'll contrive to keep you, and find you a hundred a year
+to spend in dress--the only thing your heart can really love. But I
+won't have an enemy here in the disguise of a friend; and I won't have a
+wife about me I must treat like a servant, and watch like a traitor.”
+
+The words were harsh, but the agony with which they were spoken
+distinguished them from vulgar vituperation.
+
+They overpowered poor Rosa; she had been ailing a little some time, and
+from remorse and terror, coupled with other causes, nature gave way. Her
+lips turned white, she gasped inarticulately, and, with a little piteous
+moan, tottered, and swooned dead away.
+
+He was walking wildly about, ready to tear his hair, when she tottered;
+he saw her just in time to save her, and laid her gently on the floor,
+and kneeled over her.
+
+Away went anger and every other feeling but love and pity for the poor,
+weak creature that, with all her faults, was so lovable and so loved.
+
+He applied no remedies at first: he knew they were useless and
+unnecessary. He laid her head quite low, and opened door and window, and
+loosened all her dress, sighing deeply all the time at her condition.
+
+While he was thus employed, suddenly a strange cry broke from him: a cry
+of horror, remorse, joy, tenderness, all combined: a cry compared with
+which language is inarticulate. His swift and practical eye had made a
+discovery.
+
+He kneeled over her, with his eyes dilating and his hands clasped, a
+picture of love and tender remorse.
+
+She stirred.
+
+Then he made haste, and applied his remedies, and brought her slowly
+back to life; he lifted her up, and carried her in his arms quite away
+from the bills and things, that, when she came to, she might see nothing
+to revive her distress. He carried her to the drawing-room, and kneeled
+down and rocked her in his arms, and pressed her again and again gently
+to his heart, and cried over her. “O my dove, my dove! the tender
+creature God gave me to love and cherish, and have I used it harshly? If
+I had only known! if I had only known!”
+
+While he was thus bemoaning her, and blaming himself, and crying over
+her like the rain,--he, whom she had never seen shed a tear before in
+all his troubles,--she was coming to entirely, and her quick ears caught
+his words, and she opened her lovely eyes on him.
+
+“I forgive you, dear,” she said feebly. “BUT I HOPE YOU WILL BE A KINDER
+FATHER THAN A HUSBAND.”
+
+These quiet words, spoken with rare gravity and softness, went through
+the great heart like a knife.
+
+He gave a sort of shiver, but said not a word.
+
+But that night he made a solemn vow to God that no harsh word from his
+lips should ever again strike a being so weak, so loving, and so beyond
+his comprehension. Why look for courage and candor in a creature so
+timid and shy, she could not even tell her husband THAT until, with her
+subtle sense, she saw he had discovered it?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+To be a father; to have an image of his darling Rosa, and a fruit of
+their love to live and work for: this gave the sore heart a heavenly
+glow, and elasticity to bear. Should this dear object be born to an
+inheritance of debt, of poverty? Never.
+
+He began to act as if he was even now a father. He entreated Rosa not to
+trouble or vex herself; he would look into their finances, and set all
+straight.
+
+He paid all the bills, and put by a quarter's rent and taxes. Then there
+remained of his little capital just ten pounds.
+
+He went to his printers, and had a thousand order-checks printed. These
+forms ran thus:--
+
+“Dr. Staines, of 13 Dear Street, Mayfair (blank for date), orders of
+(blank here for tradesman and goods ordered), for cash. Received same
+time (blank for tradesman's receipt). Notice: Dr. Staines disowns all
+orders not printed on this form, and paid for at date of order.”
+
+He exhibited these forms, and warned all the tradespeople, before a
+witness whom he took round for that purpose.
+
+He paid off Pearman on the spot. Pearman had met Clara, dressed like a
+pauper, her soldier having emptied her box to the very dregs, and he now
+offered to stay. But it was too late.
+
+Staines told the cook Mrs. Staines was in delicate health, and must not
+be troubled with anything. She must come to him for all orders.
+
+“Yes, sir,” said she. But she no sooner comprehended the check system
+fully than she gave warning. It put a stop to her wholesale pilfering.
+Rosa's cooks had made fully a hundred pounds out of her amongst them
+since she began to keep accounts.
+
+Under the male housekeeper every article was weighed on delivery, and
+this soon revealed that the butcher and the fishmonger had habitually
+delivered short weight from the first, besides putting down the same
+thing twice. The things were sent back that moment, with a printed form,
+stating the nature and extent of the fraud.
+
+The washerwoman, who had been pilfering wholesale so long as Mrs.
+Staines and her sloppy-headed maids counted the linen, and then forgot
+it, was brought up with a run, by triplicate forms, and by Staines
+counting the things before two witnesses, and compelling the washerwoman
+to count them as well, and verify or dispute on the spot. The laundress
+gave warning--a plain confession that stealing had been part of her
+trade.
+
+He kept the house well for three pounds a week, exclusive of coals,
+candles, and wine. His wife had had five pounds, and whatever she asked
+for dinner-parties, yet found it not half enough upon her method.
+
+He kept no coachman. If he visited a patient, a man in the yard drove
+him at a shilling per hour.
+
+By these means, and by working like a galley slave, he dragged his
+expenditure down almost to a level with his income.
+
+Rosa was quite content at first, and thought herself lucky to escape
+reproaches on such easy terms.
+
+But by and by so rigorous a system began to gall her. One day she
+fancied a Bath bun; sent the new maid to the pastry-cook's. Pastry-cook
+asked to see the doctor's order. Maid could not show it, and came back
+bunless.
+
+Rosa came into the study to complain to her husband.
+
+“A Bath bun,” said Staines. “Why, they are colored with annotto, to
+save an egg, and annotto is adulterated with chromates that are poison.
+Adulteration upon adulteration. I'll make you a real Bath bun.” Off
+coat, and into the kitchen, and made her three, pure, but rather heavy.
+He brought them her in due course. She declined them languidly. She was
+off the notion, as they say in Scotland.
+
+“If I can't have a thing when I want it, I don't care for it at all.”
+ Such was the principle she laid down for his future guidance.
+
+He sighed, and went back to his work; she cleared the plate.
+
+One day, when she asked for the carriage, he told her the time was now
+come for her to leave off carriage exercise. She must walk with him
+every day, instead.
+
+“But I don't like walking.”
+
+“I am sorry for that. But it is necessary to you, and by and by your
+life may depend on it.”
+
+Quietly, but inexorably, he dragged her out walking every day.
+
+In one of these walks she stopped at a shop window, and fell in love
+with some baby's things. “Oh! I must have that,” said she. “I must. I
+shall die if I don't; you'll see now.”
+
+“You shall,” said he, “when I can pay for it,” and drew her away.
+
+The tears of disappointment stood in her eyes, and his heart yearned
+over her. But he kept his head.
+
+He changed the dinner hour to six, and used to go out directly
+afterwards.
+
+She began to complain of his leaving her alone like that.
+
+“Well, but wait a bit,” said he; “suppose I am making a little money by
+it, to buy you something you have set your heart on, poor darling!”
+
+In a very few days after this, he brought her a little box with a slit
+in it. He shook it, and money rattled; then he unlocked it, and poured
+out a little pile of silver. “There,” said he, “put on your bonnet, and
+come and buy those things.”
+
+She put on her bonnet, and on the way she asked how it came to be all in
+silver.
+
+“That is a puzzler,” said he, “isn't it?”
+
+“And how did you make it, dear? by writing?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“By fees from the poor people?”
+
+“What, undersell my brethren! Hang it, no! My dear, I made it honestly,
+and some day I will tell you how I made it; at present, all I will tell
+you is this: I saw my darling longing for something she had a right to
+long for; I saw the tears in her sweet eyes, and--oh, come along, do. I
+am wretched till I see you with the things in your hand.”
+
+They went to the shop; and Staines sat and watched Rosa buying
+baby-clothes. Oh, it was a pretty sight to see this modest young
+creature, little more than a child herself, anticipating maternity, but
+blushing every now and then, and looking askant at her lord and master.
+How his very bowels yearned over her!
+
+And when they got home, she spread the things on a table, and they
+sat hand in hand, and looked at them, and she leaned her head on his
+shoulder, and went quietly to sleep there.
+
+And yet, as time rolled on, she became irritable at times, and
+impatient, and wanted all manner of things she could not have, and made
+him unhappy.
+
+Then he was out from six o'clock till one, and she took it into her head
+to be jealous. So many hours to spend away from her! Now that she wanted
+all his comfort.
+
+Presently, Ellen, the new maid, got gossiping in the yard, and a groom
+told her her master had a sweetheart on the sly, he thought; for he
+drove the brougham out every evening himself; “and,” said the man, “he
+wears a mustache at night.”
+
+Ellen ran in, brimful of this, and told the cook; the cook told the
+washerwoman; the washerwoman told a dozen families, till about two
+hundred people knew it.
+
+At last it came to Mrs. Staines in a roundabout way, at the very moment
+when she was complaining to Lady Cicely Treherne of her hard lot. She
+had been telling her she was nothing more than a lay-figure in the
+house.
+
+“My husband is housekeeper now, and cook, and all, and makes me
+delicious dishes, I can tell you; SUCH curries! I couldn't keep the
+house with five pounds a week, so now he does it with three: and I never
+get the carriage, because walking is best for me; and he takes it out
+every night to make money. I don't understand it.”
+
+Lady Cicely suggested that perhaps Dr. Staines thought it best for her
+to be relieved of all worry, and so undertook the housekeeping.
+
+“No, no, no,” said Rosa; “I used to pay them all a part of their bills,
+and then a little more, and so I kept getting deeper; and I was ashamed
+to tell Christie, so that he calls deceit; and oh, he spoke to me so
+cruelly once! But he was very sorry afterwards, poor dear! Why are girls
+brought up so silly? all piano, and no sense; and why are men sillier
+still to go and marry such silly things? A wife! I am not so much as a
+servant. Oh, I am finely humiliated, and,” with a sudden hearty naivete
+all her own, “it serves me just right.”
+
+While Lady Cicely was puzzling this out, in came a letter. Rosa opened
+it, read it, and gave a cry like a wounded deer.
+
+“Oh!” she cried, “I am a miserable woman. What will become of me?”
+
+The letter informed her bluntly that her husband drove his brougham out
+every night to pursue a criminal amour.
+
+While Rosa was wringing her hands in real anguish of heart, Lady Cicely
+read the letter carefully.
+
+“I don't believe this,” said she quietly.
+
+“Not true! Why, who would be so wicked as to stab a poor, inoffensive
+wretch like me, if it wasn't true?”
+
+“The first ugly woman would, in a minute. Don't you see the witer
+can't tell you where he goes? Dwives his bwougham out! That is all your
+infaumant knows.”
+
+“Oh, my dear friend, bless you! What have I been complaining to you
+about? All is light, except to lose his love. What shall I do? I will
+never tell him. I will never affront him by saying I suspected him.”
+
+“Wosa, if you do that, you will always have a serpent gnawing you. No;
+you must put the letter quietly into his hand, and say, 'Is there any
+truth in that?'”
+
+“Oh, I could not. I haven't the courage. If I do that, I shall know by
+his face if there is any truth in it.”
+
+“Well, and you must know the twuth. You shall know it. I want to know
+it too; for if he does not love you twuly, I will nevaa twust myself to
+anything so deceitful as a man.”
+
+Rosa at last consented to follow this advice.
+
+After dinner she put the letter into Christopher's hand, and asked him
+quietly was there any truth in that: then her hands trembled, and her
+eyes drank him.
+
+Christopher read it, and frowned; then he looked up, and said, “No, not
+a word. What scoundrels there are in the world! To go and tell you that,
+NOW! Why, you little goose! have you been silly enough to believe it?”
+
+“No,” said she irresolutely. “But DO you drive the brougham out every
+night?”
+
+“Except Sunday.”
+
+“Where?”
+
+“My dear wife, I never loved you as I love you now; and if it was not
+for you, I should not drive the brougham out of nights. That is all I
+shall tell you at present; but some day I'll tell you all about it.”
+
+He took such a calm high hand with her about it, that she submitted to
+leave it there; but from this moment the serpent doubt nibbled her.
+
+It had one curious effect, though. She left off complaining of trifles.
+
+Now it happened one night that Lady Cicely Treherne and a friend were at
+a concert in Hanover Square. The other lady felt rather faint, and Lady
+Cicely offered to take her home. The carriages had not yet arrived,
+and Miss Macnamara said to walk a few steps would do her good: a smart
+cabman saw them from a distance and drove up, and touching his hat said,
+“Cab, ladies?”
+
+It seemed a very superior cab, and Miss Macnamara said “Yes” directly.
+
+The cabman bustled down and opened the door; Miss Macnamara got in
+first, then Lady Cicely; her eye fell on the cabman's face, which was
+lighted full by a street-lamp, and it was Christopher Staines!
+
+He started and winced; but the woman of the world never moved a muscle.
+
+“Where to?” said Staines, averting his head.
+
+She told him where, and when they got out, said, “I'll send it you by
+the servant.”
+
+A flunkey soon after appeared with half-a-crown, and the amateur
+coachman drove away. He said to himself, “Come, my mustache is a better
+disguise than I thought.”
+
+Next day, and the day after, he asked Rosa, with affected carelessness,
+had she heard anything of Lady Cicely.
+
+“No, dear; but I dare say she will call this afternoon: it is her day.”
+
+She did call at last, and after a few words with Rosa, became a little
+restless, and asked if she might consult Dr. Staines.
+
+“Certainly, dear. Come to his studio.”
+
+“No; might I see him here?”
+
+“Certainly.” She rang the bell, and told the servant to ask Dr. Staines
+if he would be kind enough to step into the drawing-room.
+
+Dr. Staines came in, and bowed to Lady Cicely, and eyed her a little
+uncomfortably.
+
+She began, however, in a way that put him quite at his ease. “You
+remember the advice you gave us about my little cousin Tadcastah.”
+
+“Perfectly: his life is very precarious; he is bilious, consumptive,
+and, if not watched, will be epileptical; and he has a fond, weak
+mother, who will let him kill himself.”
+
+“Exactly: and you wecommended a sea voyage, with a medical attendant to
+watch his diet, and contwol his habits. Well, she took other advice, and
+the youth is worse; so now she is fwightened, and a month ago she asked
+me to pwopose to you to sail about with Tadcastah; and she offered me
+a thousand pounds a year. I put on my stiff look, and said, 'Countess,
+with every desiah to oblige you, I must decline to cawwy that offah to a
+man of genius, learning, and weputation, who has the ball at his feet in
+London.'”
+
+“Lord forgive you, Lady Cicely.”
+
+“Lord bless her for standing up for my Christie.”
+
+Lady Cicely continued: “Now, this good lady, you must know, is not
+exactly one of us: the late earl mawwied into cotton, or wool, or
+something. So she said, 'Name your price for him.' I shwugged my
+shoulders, smiled affably, and as affectedly as you like, and changed
+the subject. But since then things have happened. I am afwaid it is my
+duty to make you the judge whether you choose to sail about with that
+little cub--Rosa, I can beat about the bush no longer. Is it a fit thing
+that a man of genius, at whose feet we ought all to be sitting with
+reverence, should drive a cab in the public streets? Yes, Rosa Staines,
+your husband drives his brougham out at night, not to visit any other
+lady, as that anonymous wretch told you, but to make a few misewable
+shillings for you.”
+
+“Oh, Christie!”
+
+“It is no use, Dr. Staines; I must and will tell her. My dear, he drove
+ME three nights ago. He had a cabman's badge on his poor arm. If you
+knew what I suffered in those five minutes! Indeed it seems cruel to
+speak of it--but I could not keep it from Rosa, and the reason I muster
+courage to say it before you, sir, it is because I know she has other
+friends who keep you out of their consultations; and, after all, it is
+the world that ought to blush, and not you.”
+
+Her ladyship's kindly bosom heaved, and she wanted to cry; so she took
+her handkerchief out of her pocket without the least hurry, and
+pressed it delicately to her eyes, and did cry quietly, but without any
+disguise, like a brave lady, who neither cried nor did anything else she
+was ashamed to be seen at.
+
+As for Rosa, she sat sobbing round Christopher's neck, and kissed him
+with all her soul.
+
+“Dear me!” said Christopher. “You are both very kind. But, begging your
+pardon, it is much ado about nothing.”
+
+Lady Cicely took no notice of that observation. “So, Rosa dear,” said
+she, “I think you are the person to decide whether he had not better
+sail about with that little cub, than--oh!”
+
+“I will settle that,” said Staines. “I have one beloved creature to
+provide for. I may have another. I MUST make money. Turning a brougham
+into a cab, whatever you may think, is an honest way of making it, and
+I am not the first doctor who has coined his brougham at night. But if
+there is a good deal of money to be made by sailing with Lord Tadcaster,
+of course I should prefer that to cab-driving, for I have never made
+above twelve shillings a night.”
+
+“Oh, as to that, she shall give you fifteen hundred a year.”
+
+“Then I jump at it.”
+
+“What! and leave ME?”
+
+“Yes, love: leave you--for your good; and only for a time. Lady Cicely,
+it is a noble offer. My darling Rosa will have every comfort--ay, every
+luxury, till I come home, and then we will start afresh with a good
+balance, and with more experience than we did at first.”
+
+Lady Cicely gazed on him with wonder. She said, “Oh! what stout hearts
+men have! No, no; don't let him go. See; he is acting. His great heart
+is torn with agony. I will have no hand in parting man and wife--no, not
+for a day.” And she hurried away in rare agitation.
+
+Rosa fell on her knees, and asked Christopher's pardon for having been
+jealous; and that day she was a flood of divine tenderness. She repaid
+him richly for driving the cab. But she was unnaturally cool about Lady
+Cicely; and the exquisite reason soon came out. “Oh yes! She is very
+good; very kind; but it is not for me now! No! you shall not sail about
+with her cub of a cousin, and leave me at such a time.”
+
+Christopher groaned.
+
+“Christie, you shall not see that lady again. She came here to part us.
+SHE IS IN LOVE WITH YOU. I was blind not to see it before.”
+
+Next day, as Lady Cicely sat alone in the morning-room thinking over
+this very scene, a footman brought in a card and a note. “Dr. Staines
+begs particularly to see Lady Cicely Treherne.”
+
+The lady's pale cheek colored; she stood irresolute a single moment. “I
+will see Dr. Staines,” said she.
+
+Dr. Staines came in, looking pale and worn; he had not slept a wink
+since she saw him last.
+
+She looked at him full, and divined this at a glance. She motioned
+him to a seat, and sat down herself, with her white hand pressing her
+forehead, and her head turned a little away from him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+He told her he had come to thank her for her great kindness, and to
+accept the offer.
+
+She sighed. “I hoped it was to decline it. Think of the misery of
+separation, both to you and her.”
+
+“It will be misery. But we are not happy as it is, and she cannot bear
+poverty. Nor is it fair she should, when I can give her every comfort by
+just playing the man for a year or two.” He then told Lady Cicely there
+were more reasons than he chose to mention: go he must, and would; and
+he implored her not to let the affair drop. In short, he was sad but
+resolved, and she found she must go on with it, or break faith with him.
+She took her desk, and wrote a letter concluding the bargain for him.
+She stipulated for half the year's fee in advance. She read Dr. Staines
+the letter.
+
+“You ARE a friend!” said he. “I should never have ventured on that; it
+will be a godsend to my poor Rosa. You will be kind to her when I am
+gone?”
+
+“I will.”
+
+“So will Uncle Philip, I think. I will see him before I go, and shake
+hands. He has been a good friend to me; but he was too hard upon HER;
+and I could not stand that.”
+
+Then he thanked and blessed her again, with the tears in his eyes, and
+left her more disturbed and tearful than she had ever been since she
+grew to woman. “O cruel poverty!” she thought, “that such a man should
+be torn from his home, and thank me for doing it--all for a little
+money--and here are we poor commonplace creatures rolling in it.”
+
+Staines hurried home, and told his wife. She clung to him convulsively,
+and wept bitterly; but she made no direct attempt to shake his
+resolution; she saw, by his iron look, that she could only afflict, not
+turn him.
+
+Next day came Lady Cicely to see her. Lady Cicely was very uneasy in her
+mind, and wanted to know whether Rosa was reconciled to the separation.
+
+Rosa received her with a forced politeness and an icy coldness that
+petrified her. She could not stay long in face of such a reception. At
+parting, she said, sadly, “You look on me as an enemy.”
+
+“What else can you expect, when you part my husband and me?” said Rosa,
+with quiet sternness.
+
+“I meant well,” said Lady Cicely sorrowfully; “but I wish I had never
+interfered.”
+
+“So do I,” and she began to cry.
+
+Lady Cicely made no answer. She went quietly away, hanging her head
+sadly.
+
+Rosa was unjust, but she was not rude nor vulgar; and Lady Cicely's
+temper was so well governed that it never blinded her heart. She
+withdrew, but without the least idea of quarrelling with her afflicted
+friend, or abandoning her. She went quietly home, and wrote to Lady
+----, to say that she should be glad to receive Dr. Staines's advance
+as soon as convenient, since Mrs. Staines would have to make fresh
+arrangements, and the money might be useful.
+
+The money was forthcoming directly. Lady Cicely brought it to Dear
+Street, and handed it to Dr. Staines. His eyes sparkled at the sight of
+it.
+
+“Give my love to Rosa,” said she softly, and cut her visit very short.
+
+Staines took the money to Rosa, and said, “See what our best friend has
+brought us. You shall have four hundred, and I hope, after the bitter
+lessons you have had, you will be able to do with that for some months.
+The two hundred I shall keep as a reserve fund for you to draw on.”
+
+“No, no!” said Rosa. “I shall go and live with my father, and never
+spend a penny. O Christie, if you knew how I hate myself for the folly
+that is parting us! Oh, why don't they teach girls sense and money,
+instead of music and the globes?”
+
+But Christopher opened a banking account for her, and gave her a
+check-book, and entreated her to pay everything by check, and run no
+bills whatever; and she promised. He also advertised the Bijou, and put
+a bill in the window: “The lease of this house, and the furniture, to be
+sold.”
+
+Rosa cried bitterly at sight of it, thinking how high in hope they were,
+when they had their first dinner there, and also when she went to her
+first sale to buy the furniture cheap.
+
+And now everything moved with terrible rapidity. The Amphitrite was to
+sail from Plymouth in five days; and, meantime, there was so much to be
+done, that the days seemed to gallop away.
+
+Dr. Staines forgot nothing. He made his will in duplicate, leaving all
+to his wife; he left one copy at Doctors' Commons and another with his
+lawyer; inventoried all his furniture and effects in duplicate, too;
+wrote to Uncle Philip, and then called on him to seek a reconciliation.
+Unfortunately, Dr. Philip was in Scotland. At last this sad pair went
+down to Plymouth together, there to meet Lord Tadcaster and go on board
+H.M.S. Amphitrite, lying out at anchor, under orders for the Australian
+Station.
+
+They met at the inn, as appointed; and sent word of their arrival on
+board the frigate, asking to remain on shore till the last minute.
+
+Dr. Staines presented his patient to Rosa; and after a little while drew
+him apart and questioned him professionally. He then asked for a private
+room. Here he and Rosa really took leave; for what could the poor things
+say to each other on a crowded quay? He begged her forgiveness, on his
+knees, for having once spoken harshly to her, and she told him, with
+passionate sobs, he had never spoken harshly to her; her folly it was
+had parted them.
+
+Poor wretches! they clung together with a thousand vows of love and
+constancy. They were to pray for each other at the same hours: to think
+of some kind word or loving act, at other stated hours; and so they
+tried to fight with their suffering minds against the cruel separation;
+and if either should die, the other was to live wedded to memory, and
+never listen to love from other lips; but no! God was pitiful; He would
+let them meet again ere long, to part no more. They rocked in each
+other's arms; they cried over each other--it was pitiful.
+
+At last the cruel summons came; they shuddered, as if it was their
+death-blow. Christopher, with a face of agony, was yet himself, and
+would have parted then: and so best. But Rosa could not. She would see
+the last of him, and became almost wild and violent when he opposed it.
+
+Then he let her come with him to Milbay Steps; but into the boat he
+would not let her step.
+
+The ship's boat lay at the steps, manned by six sailors, all seated,
+with their oars tossed in two vertical rows. A smart middy in charge
+conducted them, and Dr. Staines and Lord Tadcaster got in, leaving Rosa,
+in charge of her maid, on the quay.
+
+“Shove off”--“Down”--“Give way.”
+
+Each order was executed so swiftly and surely that, in as many seconds,
+the boat was clear, the oars struck the water with a loud splash, and
+the husband was shot away like an arrow, and the wife's despairing cry
+rang on the stony quay, as many a poor woman's cry had rung before.
+
+In half a minute the boat shot under the stern of the frigate.
+
+They were received on the quarter-deck by Captain Hamilton: he
+introduced them to the officers--a torture to poor Staines, to have his
+mind taken for a single instant from his wife--the first lieutenant came
+aft, and reported, “Ready for making sail, sir.”
+
+Staines seized the excuse, rushed to the other side of the vessel,
+leaned over the taffrail, as if he would fly ashore, and stretched out
+his hands to his beloved Rosa; and she stretched out her hands to him.
+They were so near, he could read the expression of her face. It was wild
+and troubled, as one who did not yet realize the terrible situation, but
+would not be long first.
+
+“HANDS MAKE SAIL--AWAY, ALOFT--UP ANCHOR”--rang in Christopher's ear, as
+if in a dream. All his soul and senses were bent on that desolate young
+creature. How young and amazed her lovely face! Yet this bewildered
+child was about to become a mother. Even a stranger's heart might have
+yearned with pity for her: how much more her miserable husband's!
+
+The capstan was manned, and worked to a merry tune that struck chill to
+the bereaved; yards were braced for casting, anchor hove, catted, and
+fished, sail was spread with amazing swiftness, the ship's head dipped,
+and slowly and gracefully paid off towards the breakwater, and she stood
+out to sea under swiftly-swelling canvas and a light north-westerly
+breeze.
+
+Staines only felt the motion: his body was in the ship, his soul with
+his Rosa. He gazed, he strained his eyes to see her eyes, as the ship
+glided from England and her. While he was thus gazing and trembling all
+over, up came to him a smart second lieutenant, with a brilliant voice
+that struck him like a sword. “Captain's orders to show you berths;
+please choose for Lord Tadcaster and yourself.”
+
+The man's wild answer made the young officer stare. “Oh, sir! not
+now--try and do my duty when I have quite lost her--my poor wife--a
+child--a mother--there--sir--on the steps--there!--there!”
+
+Now this officer always went to sea singing “Oh be joyful.” But a strong
+man's agony, who can make light of it? It was a revelation to him; but
+he took it quickly. The first thing he did, being a man of action, was
+to dash into his cabin, and come back with a short, powerful double
+glass. “There!” said he roughly, but kindly, and shoved it into
+Staines's hand. He took it, stared at it stupidly, then used it, without
+a word of thanks, so wrapped was he in his anguish.
+
+This glass prolonged the misery of that bitter hour. When Rosa could no
+longer tell her husband from another, she felt he was really gone, and
+she threw her hands aloft, and clasped them above her head, with the
+wild abandon of a woman who could never again be a child; and Staines
+saw it, and a sharp sigh burst from him, and he saw her maid and others
+gather round her. He saw the poor young thing led away, with her head
+all down, as he had never seen her before, and supported to the inn; and
+then he saw her no more.
+
+His heart seemed to go out of his bosom in search of her, and leave
+nothing but a stone behind: he hung over the taffrail like a dead thing.
+A steady foot-fall slapped his ear. He raised his white face and filmy
+eyes, and saw Lieutenant Fitzroy marching to and fro like a sentinel,
+keeping everybody away from the mourner, with the steady, resolute,
+business-like face of a man in whom sentiment is confined to action; its
+phrases and its flourishes being literally terra incognita to the honest
+fellow.
+
+Staines staggered towards him, holding out both hands, and gasped out,
+“God bless you. Hide me somewhere--must not be seen SO--got duty to
+do--Patient--can't do it yet--one hour to draw my breath--oh, my God, my
+God!--one hour, sir. Then do my duty, if I die--as you would.”
+
+Fitzroy tore him down into his own cabin, shut him in and ran to the
+first lieutenant, with a tear in his eye. “Can I have a sentry, sir?”
+
+“Sentry! What for?”
+
+“The doctor--awfully cut up at leaving his wife: got him in my cabin.
+Wants to have his cry to himself.”
+
+“Fancy a fellow crying at going to sea!”
+
+“It is not that, sir; it is leaving his wife.”
+
+“Well, is he the only man on board that has got a wife?”
+
+“Why, no, sir. It is odd, now I think of it. Perhaps he has only got
+that ONE.”
+
+“Curious creatures, landsmen,” said the first lieutenant. “However, you
+can stick a marine there.”
+
+“And I say, show the YOUNGSTER the berths, and let him choose, as the
+doctor's aground.”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+So Fitzoy planted his marine, and then went after Lord Tadcaster: he had
+drawn up alongside his cousin, Captain Hamilton. The captain, being an
+admirer of Lady Cicely, was mighty civil to his little lordship, and
+talked to him more than was his wont on the quarterdeck; for though
+he had a good flow of conversation, and dispensed with ceremony in his
+cabin, he was apt to be rather short on deck. However, he told little
+Tadcaster he was fortunate; they had a good start, and, if the wind
+held, might hope to be clear of the Channel in twenty-four hours. “You
+will see Eddystone lighthouse about four bells,” said he.
+
+“Shall we go out of sight of land altogether?” inquired his lordship.
+
+“Of course we shall, and the sooner the better.” He then explained to
+the novice that the only danger to a good ship was from the land.
+
+While Tadcaster was digesting this paradox, Captain Hamilton proceeded
+to descant on the beauties of blue water and its fine medicinal
+qualities, which, he said, were particularly suited to young gentlemen
+with bilious stomachs, but presently, catching sight of Lieutenant
+Fitzroy standing apart, but with the manner of a lieutenant not there by
+accident, he stopped, and said, civilly but smartly, “Well, sir?”
+
+Fitzroy came forward directly, saluted, and said he had orders from the
+first lieutenant to show Lord Tadcaster the berths. His lordship must be
+good enough to choose, because the doctor--couldn't.
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“Brought to, sir--for the present--by--well, by grief.”
+
+“Brought to by grief! Who the deuce is grief? No riddles on the
+quarter-deck, if you please, sir.”
+
+“Oh no, sir. I assure you he is awfully cut up; and he is having his cry
+out in my cabin.”
+
+“Having his cry out! why, what for?”
+
+“Leaving his wife, sir.”
+
+“Oh, is that all?”
+
+“Well, I don't wonder,” cried little Tadcaster warmly. “She is, oh,
+so beautiful!” and a sudden blush o'erspread his pasty cheeks. “Why on
+earth didn't we bring her along with us here?” said he, suddenly opening
+his eyes with astonishment at the childish omission.
+
+“Why, indeed?” said the captain comically, and dived below, attended by
+the well-disciplined laughter of Lieutenant Fitzroy, who was too good
+an officer not to be amused at his captain's jokes. Having acquitted
+himself of that duty--and it is a very difficult one sometimes--he
+took Lord Tadcaster to the main-deck, and showed him two comfortable
+sleeping-berths that had been screened off for him and Dr. Staines; one
+of these was fitted with a standing bed-place, the other had a cot
+swung in it. Fitzroy offered him the choice, but hinted that he himself
+preferred a cot.
+
+“No, thank you,” says my lord mighty dryly.
+
+“All right,” said Fitzroy cheerfully. “Take the other, then, my lord.”
+
+His little lordship cocked his eye like a jackdaw, and looked almost as
+cunning. “You see,” said he, “I have been reading up for this voyage.”
+
+“Oh, indeed! Logarithms?”
+
+“Of course not.”
+
+“What then?”
+
+“Why, 'Peter Simple'--to be sure.”
+
+“Ah, ha!” said Fitzroy, with a chuckle that showed plainly he had some
+delicious reminiscences of youthful study in the same quarter.
+
+The little lord chuckled too, and put one finger on Fitzroy's shoulder,
+and pointed at the cot with another. “Tumble out the other side, you
+know--slippery hitches--cords cut--down you come flop in the middle of
+the night.”
+
+Fitzroy's eye flashed merriment: but only for a moment. His countenance
+fell the next. “Lord bless you,” said he sorrowfully, “all that game
+is over now. Her Majesty's ship!--it is a church afloat. The service is
+going to the devil, as the old fogies say.”
+
+“Ain't you sorry?” says the little lord, cocking his eye again like the
+bird hereinbefore mentioned.
+
+“Of course I am.”
+
+“Then I'll take the standing bed.”
+
+“All right. I say, you don't mind the doctor coming down with a run,
+eh?”
+
+“He is not ill: I am. He is paid to take care of me: I am not paid to
+take care of him,” said the young lord sententiously.
+
+“I understand,” replied Fitzroy, dryly. “Well, every one for himself,
+and Providence for us all--as the elephant said when he danced among the
+chickens.”
+
+Here my lord was summoned to dine with the captain. Staines was not
+there; but he had not forgotten his duty; in the midst of his grief he
+had written a note to the captain, hoping that a bereaved husband might
+not seem to desert his post if he hid for a few hours the sorrow he
+felt himself unable to control. Meantime he would be grateful if Captain
+Hamilton would give orders that Lord Tadcaster should eat no pastry, and
+drink only six ounces of claret, otherwise he should feel that he was
+indeed betraying his trust.
+
+The captain was pleased and touched with this letter. It recalled to him
+how his mother sobbed when she launched her little middy, swelling with
+his first cocked hat and dirk.
+
+There was champagne at dinner, and little Tadcaster began to pour out a
+tumbler. “Hold on!” said Captain Hamilton; “you are not to drink that;”
+ and he quietly removed the tumbler. “Bring him six ounces of claret.”
+
+While they were weighing the claret with scientific precision, Tadcaster
+remonstrated; and, being told it was the doctor's order, he squeaked
+out, “Confound him! why did not he stay with his wife? She is
+beautiful.” Nor did he give it up without a struggle. “Here's
+hospitality!” said he. “Six ounces!”
+
+Receiving no reply, he inquired of the third lieutenant, which was
+generally considered the greatest authority in a ship--the captain, or
+the doctor.
+
+The third lieutenant answered not, but turned his head away, and, by
+violent exertion, succeeded in not splitting.
+
+“I'll answer that,” said Hamilton politely. “The captain is the highest
+in his department, and the doctor in his: now Doctor Staines is strictly
+within his department, and will be supported by me and my officers. You
+are bilious, and epileptical, and all the rest of it, and you are to be
+cured by diet and blue water.”
+
+Tadcaster was inclined to snivel: however, he subdued that weakness with
+a visible effort, and, in due course, returned to the charge. “How would
+you look,” quavered he, “if there was to be a mutiny in this ship of
+yours, and I was to head it?'
+
+“Well, I should look SHARP--hang all the ringleaders at the yardarm,
+clap the rest under hatches, and steer for the nearest prison.”
+
+“Oh!” said Tadcaster, and digested this scheme a bit. At last he perked
+up again, and made his final hit. “Well, I shouldn't care, for one, if
+you didn't flog us.”
+
+“In that case,” said Captain Hamilton, “I'd flog you--and stop your six
+ounces.”
+
+“Then curse the sea; that is all I say.”
+
+“Why, you have not seen it; you have only seen the British Channel.” It
+was Mr. Fitzroy who contributed this last observation.
+
+After dinner all but the captain went on deck, and saw the Eddystone
+lighthouse ahead and to leeward. They passed it. Fitzroy told his
+lordship its story, and that of its unfortunate predecessors. Soon after
+this Lord Tadcaster turned in.
+
+Presently the captain observed a change in the thermometer, which
+brought him on deck. He scanned the water and the sky, and as these
+experienced commanders have a subtle insight into the weather,
+especially in familiar latitudes, he remarked to the first lieutenant
+that it looked rather unsettled; and, as a matter of prudence, ordered
+a reef in the topsails, and the royal yards to be sent down: ship to be
+steered W. by S. This done, he turned in, but told them to call him if
+there was any change in the weather.
+
+During the night the wind gradually headed; and at four bells in the
+middle watch a heavy squall came up from the south-west.
+
+This brought the captain on deck again: he found the officer of the
+watch at his post, and at work. Sail was shortened, and the ship made
+snug for heavy weather.
+
+At four A.M. it was blowing hard, and, being too near the French coast,
+they wore the ship.
+
+Now, this operation was bad for little Tadcaster. While the vessel was
+on the starboard tack, the side kept him snug; but, when they wore her,
+of course he had no leeboard to keep him in. The ship gave a lee-lurch,
+and shot him clean out of his bunk into the middle of the cabin.
+
+He shrieked and shrieked, with terror and pain, till the captain and
+Staines, who were his nearest neighbors, came to him, and they gave him
+a little brandy, and got him to bed again. Here he suffered nothing but
+violent seasickness for some hours. As for Staines, he had been swinging
+heavily in his cot; but such was his mental distress that he would have
+welcomed seasickness, or any reasonable bodily suffering. He was in that
+state when the sting of a wasp is a touch of comfort.
+
+Worn out with sickness, Tadcaster would not move. Invited to breakfast,
+he swore faintly, and insisted on dying in peace. At last exhaustion
+gave him a sort of sleep, in spite of the motion, which was violent, for
+it was now blowing great guns, a heavy sea on, and the great waves dirty
+in color and crested with raging foam.
+
+They had to wear ship again, always a ticklish manoeuvre in weather like
+this.
+
+A tremendous sea struck her quarter, stove in the very port abreast of
+which the little lord was lying, and washed him clean out of bed into
+the lee scuppers, and set all swimming around him.
+
+Didn't he yell, and wash about the cabin, and grab at all the chairs
+and tables and things that drifted about, nimble as eels, avoiding his
+grasp!
+
+In rushed the captain, and in staggered Staines. They stopped his
+“voyage autour de sa chambre,” and dragged him into the after saloon.
+
+He clung to them by turns, and begged, with many tears, to be put on the
+nearest land; a rock would do.
+
+“Much obliged,” said the captain; “now is the very time to give rocks a
+wide berth.”
+
+“A dead whale, then--a lighthouse--anything but a beast of a ship.”
+
+They pacified him with a little brandy, and for the next twenty-four
+hours he scarcely opened his mouth, except for a purpose it is
+needless to dwell on. We can trust to our terrestrial readers' personal
+reminiscences of lee-lurches, weather-rolls, and their faithful
+concomitant.
+
+At last they wriggled out of the Channel, and soon after that the wind
+abated, and next day veered round to the northward, and the ship sailed
+almost on an even keel. The motion became as heavenly as it had been
+diabolical, and the passengers came on deck.
+
+Staines had suffered one whole day from sea-sickness, but never
+complained. I believe it did his mind more good than harm.
+
+As for Tadcaster, he continued to suffer, at intervals, for two days
+more, but on the fifth day out he appeared with a little pink tinge
+on his cheek and a wolfish appetite. Dr. Staines controlled his diet
+severely, as to quality, and, when they had been at sea just eleven
+days, the physician's heavy heart was not a little lightened by the
+marvellous change in him. The unthinking, who believe in the drug
+system, should have seen what a physician can do with air and food,
+when circumstances enable him to ENFORCE the diet he enjoins. Money will
+sometimes buy even health, if you AVOID DRUGS ENTIRELY, and go another
+road.
+
+Little Tadcaster went on board, pasty, dim-eyed, and very subject to
+fits, because his stomach was constantly overloaded with indigestible
+trash, and the blood in his brain-vessels was always either galloping or
+creeping, under the first or second effect of stimulants administered,
+at first, by thoughtless physicians. Behold him now--bronzed, pinky,
+bright-eyed, elastic; and only one fit in twelve days.
+
+The quarter-deck was hailed from the “look-out” with a cry that is
+sometimes terrible, but in this latitude and weather welcome and
+exciting. “Land, ho!”
+
+“Where away?” cried the officer of the watch.
+
+“A point on the lee-bow, sir.”
+
+It was the island of Madeira: they dropped anchor in Funchal Roads,
+furled sails, squared yards, and fired a salute of twenty-one guns for
+the Portuguese flag.
+
+They went ashore, and found a good hotel, and were no longer dosed, as
+in former days, with oil, onions, garlic, eggs. But the wine queer, and
+no madeira to be got.
+
+Staines wrote home to his wife: he told her how deeply he had felt the
+bereavement; but did not dwell on that; his object being to cheer her.
+He told her it promised to be a rapid and wonderful cure, and one that
+might very well give him a fresh start in London. They need not be
+parted a whole year, he thought. He sent her a very long letter, and
+also such extracts from his sea journal as he thought might please her.
+After dinner they inspected the town, and what struck them most was to
+find the streets paved with flag-stones, and most of the carts drawn by
+bullocks on sledges. A man every now and then would run forward and drop
+a greasy cloth in front of the sledge, to lubricate the way.
+
+Next day, after breakfast, they ordered horses; these on inspection,
+proved to be of excellent breed, either from Australia or America--very
+rough shod, for the stony roads. Started for the Grand Canal--peeped
+down that mighty chasm, which has the appearance of an immense mass
+having been blown out of the centre of the mountain.
+
+They lunched under the great dragon tree near its brink, then rode back
+admiring the bold mountain scenery. Next morning at dawn, rode on horses
+up the hill to the convent. Admired the beautiful gardens on the way.
+Remained a short time; then came down in hand-sleighs--little baskets
+slung on sledges, guided by two natives; these sledges run down the
+hill with surprising rapidity, and the men guide them round corners by
+sticking out a foot to port or starboard.
+
+Embarked at 11.30 A.M.
+
+At 1.30, the men having dined, the ship was got under way for the Cape
+of Good Hope, and all sail made for a southerly course, to get into the
+north-east trades.
+
+The weather was now balmy and delightful, and so genial that everybody
+lived on deck, and could hardly be got to turn in to their cabins, even
+for sleep.
+
+Dr. Staines became a favorite with the officers. There is a great deal
+of science on board a modern ship of war, and, of course, on some points
+Staines, a Cambridge wrangler, and a man of many sciences and books, was
+an oracle. On others he was quite behind, but a ready and quick pupil.
+He made up to the navigating officer, and learned, with his help, to
+take observations. In return he was always at any youngster's service
+in a trigonometrical problem; and he amused the midshipmen and young
+lieutenants with analytical tests; some of these were applicable to
+certain liquids dispensed by the paymaster. Under one of them the
+port wine assumed some very droll colors and appearances not proper to
+grape-juice.
+
+One lovely night that the ship clove the dark sea into a blaze of
+phosphorescence, and her wake streamed like a comet's tail, a waggish
+middy got a bucketful hoisted on deck, and asked the doctor to analyze
+that. He did not much like it, but yielded to the general request; and
+by dividing it into smaller vessels, and dropping in various chemicals,
+made rainbows and silvery flames and what not. But he declined to repeat
+the experiment: “No, no; once is philosophy; twice is cruelty. I've
+slain more than Samson already.”
+
+As for Tadcaster, science had no charms for him; but fiction had; and
+he got it galore; for he cruised about the forecastle, and there the
+quartermasters and old seamen spun him yarns that held him breathless.
+
+But one day my lord had a fit on the quarter-deck, and a bad one; and
+Staines found him smelling strong of rum. He represented this to Captain
+Hamilton. The captain caused strict inquiries to be made, and it came
+out that my lord had gone among the men, with money in both pockets, and
+bought a little of one man's grog, and a little of another, and had been
+sipping the furtive but transient joys of solitary intoxication.
+
+Captain Hamilton talked to him seriously; told him it was suicide.
+
+“Never mind, old boy,” said the young monkey; “a short life and a merry
+one.”
+
+Then Hamilton represented that it was very ungentleman-like to go and
+tempt poor Jack with his money, to offend discipline, and get flogged.
+“How will you feel, Tadcaster, when you see their backs bleeding under
+the cat?”
+
+“Oh, d--n it all, George, don't do that,” says the young gentleman, all
+in a hurry.
+
+Then the commander saw he had touched the right chord. So he played on
+it, till he got Lord Tadcaster to pledge his honor not to do it again.
+
+The little fellow gave the pledge, but relieved his mind as follows:
+“But it is a cursed tyrannical hole, this tiresome old ship. You can't
+do what you like in it.”
+
+“Well, but no more you can in the grave: and that is the agreeable
+residence you were hurrying to but for this tiresome old ship.”
+
+“Lord! no more you can,” said Tadcaster, with sudden candor. “I FORGOT
+THAT.”
+
+The airs were very light; the ship hardly moved. It was beginning to get
+dull, when one day a sail was sighted on the weather-bow, standing to
+the eastward: on nearing her, she was seen, by the cut of her sails, to
+be a man-of-war, evidently homeward bound: so Captain Hamilton ordered
+the main-royal to be lowered (to render signal more visible) and the
+“demand” hoisted. No notice being taken of this, a gun was fired to draw
+her attention to the signal. This had the desired effect; down went her
+main-royal, up went her “number.” On referring to the signal book, she
+proved to be the Vindictive from the Pacific Station.
+
+This being ascertained, Captain Hamilton, being that captain's senior,
+signalled “Close and prepare to receive letters.” In obedience to this
+she bore up, ran down, and rounded to; the sail in the Amphitrite was
+also shortened, the maintopsail laid to the mast, and a boat lowered.
+The captain having finished his despatches, they, with the letter-bags,
+were handed into the boat, which shoved off, pulled to the lee side
+of the Vindictive, and left the despatches, with Captain Hamilton's
+compliments. On its return, both ships made sail on their respective
+course, exchanging “bon voyage” by signal, and soon the upper sails of
+the homeward-bounder were seen dipping below the horizon: longing eyes
+followed her on board the Amphitrite.
+
+How many hurried missives had been written and despatched in that
+half-hour. But as for Staines, he was a man of forethought, and had a
+volume ready for his dear wife.
+
+Lord Tadcaster wrote to Lady Cicely Treherne. His epistle, though brief,
+contained a plum or two.
+
+He wrote: “What with sailing, and fishing, and eating nothing but roast
+meat, I'm quite another man.”
+
+This amused her ladyship a little, but not so much as the postscript,
+which was indeed the neatest thing in its way she had met with, and she
+had some experience, too.
+
+“P.S.--I say, Cicely, I think I should like to marry you. Would you
+mind?”
+
+Let us defy time and space to give you Lady Cicely's reply: “I should
+enjoy it of all things, Taddy. But, alas! I am too young.”
+
+N.B.--She was twenty-seven, and Tad sixteen. To be sure, Tad was four
+feet eleven, and she was only five feet six and a half.
+
+To return to my narrative (with apologies), this meeting of the vessels
+caused a very agreeable excitement that day; but a greater was in store.
+In the afternoon, Tadcaster, Staines, and the principal officers of the
+ship, being at dinner in the captain's cabin, in came the officer of the
+watch, and reported a large spar on the weather-bow.
+
+“Well, close it, if you can; and let me know if it looks worth picking
+up.”
+
+He then explained to Lord Tadcaster that, on a cruise, he never liked
+to pass a spar, or anything that might possibly reveal the fate of some
+vessel or other.
+
+In the middle of his discourse the officer came in again, but not in
+the same cool business way: he ran in excitedly, and said, “Captain, the
+signalman reports it ALIVE!”
+
+“Alive?--a spar! What do you mean? Something alive ON it, eh?”
+
+“No, sir; alive itself.”
+
+“How can that be? Hail him again. Ask him what it is.”
+
+The officer went out, and hailed the signalman at the mast-head. “What
+is it?”
+
+“Sea-sarpint, I think.”
+
+This hail reached the captain's ears faintly. However, he waited quietly
+till the officer came in and reported it; then he burst out, “Absurd!
+there is no such creature in the universe. What do you say, Dr.
+Staines?--It is in your department.”
+
+“The universe in my department, captain?”
+
+“Haw! haw! haw!” went Fitzroy and two more.
+
+“No, you rogue, the serpent.”
+
+Dr. Staines, thus appealed to, asked the captain if he had ever seen
+small snakes out at sea.
+
+“Why, of course. Sailed through a mile of them once, in the
+archipelago.”
+
+“Sure they were snakes?”
+
+“Quite sure; and the biggest was not eight feet long.”
+
+“Very well, captain; then sea-serpents exist, and it becomes a mere
+question of size. Now which produces the larger animals in every
+kind,--land or sea? The grown elephant weighs, I believe, about five
+tons. The very smallest of the whale tribe weighs ten; and they go as
+high as forty tons. There are smaller fish than the whale, that are four
+times as heavy as the elephant. Why doubt, then, that the sea can breed
+a snake to eclipse the boa-constrictor? Even if the creature had never
+been seen, I should, by mere reasoning from analogy, expect the sea to
+produce a serpent excelling the boa-constrictor, as the lobster excels
+a crayfish of our rivers: see how large things grow at sea! the salmon
+born in our rivers weighs in six months a quarter of a pound, or less;
+it goes out to sea, and comes back in one year weighing seven pounds.
+So far from doubting the large sea-serpents, I believe they exist by the
+million. The only thing that puzzles me is, why they should ever show a
+nose above water; they must be very numerous, I think.”
+
+Captain Hamilton laughed, and said, “Well, this IS new. Doctor, in
+compliment to your opinion, we will go on deck, and inspect the reptile
+you think so common.” He stopped at the door, and said, “Doctor, the
+saltcellar is by you. Would you mind bringing it on deck? We shall want
+a little to secure the animal.”
+
+So they all went on deck right merrily.
+
+The captain went up a few ratlines in the mizzen rigging, and looked to
+windward, laughing all the time: but, all of a sudden, there was a great
+change in his manner. “Good heavens, it is alive--LUFF!”
+
+The helmsman obeyed; the news spread like wildfire. Mess kids, grog
+kids, pipes, were all let fall, and some three hundred sailors clustered
+on the rigging like bees, to view the long-talked-of monster.
+
+It was soon discovered to be moving lazily along, the propelling part
+being under water, and about twenty-five feet visible. It had a small
+head for so large a body, and, as they got nearer, rough scales were
+seen, ending in smaller ones further down the body. It had a mane, but
+not like a lion's, as some have pretended. If you have ever seen a pony
+with a hog-mane, that was more the character of this creature's mane, if
+mane it was.
+
+They got within a hundred yards of it, and all saw it plainly, scarce
+believing their senses.
+
+When they could get no nearer for the wind, the captain yielded to that
+instinct which urges man always to kill a curiosity, “to encourage the
+rest,” as saith the witty Voltaire. “Get ready a gun--best shot in the
+ship lay and fire it.”
+
+This was soon done. Bang went the gun. The shot struck the water close
+to the brute, and may have struck him under water, for aught I know.
+Any way, it sorely disturbed him; for he reared into the air a column
+of serpent's flesh that looked as thick as the maintopmast of a
+seventy-four, opened a mouth that looked capacious enough to swallow
+the largest buoy anchor in the ship, and, with a strange grating noise
+between a bark and a hiss, dived, and was seen no more.
+
+When he was gone, they all looked at one another like men awaking from a
+dream.
+
+Staines alone took it quite coolly. It did not surprise him in the
+least. He had always thought it incredible that the boa-constrictor
+should be larger than any sea-snake. That idea struck him as monstrous
+and absurd. He noted the sea-serpent in his journal, but with this
+doubt, “Semble--more like a very large eel.”
+
+Next day they crossed the line. Just before noon a young gentleman
+burst into Staines's cabin, apologizing for want of ceremony; but if
+Dr. Staines would like to see the line, it was now in sight from the
+mizzentop.
+
+“Glad of it, sir,” said Staines; “collect it for me in the ship's
+buckets, if you please. I want to send A LINE to friends at home.”
+
+Young gentleman buried his hands in his pockets, walked out in solemn
+silence, and resumed his position on the lee-side of the quarter-deck.
+
+Nevertheless, this opening, coupled with what he had heard and read,
+made Staines a little uneasy, and he went to his friend Fitzroy, and
+said, “Now, look here: I am at the service of you experienced and
+humorous mariners. I plead guilty at once to the crime of never having
+passed the line; so, make ready your swabs, and lather me; your ship's
+scraper, and shave me; and let us get it over. But Lord Tadcaster is
+nervous, sensitive, prouder than he seems, and I'm not going to have him
+driven into a fit for all the Neptunes and Amphitrites in creation.”
+
+Fitzroy heard him out, then burst out laughing. “Why, there is none of
+that game in the Royal Navy,” said he. “Hasn't been this twenty years.”
+
+“I'm so sorry,” said Dr. Staines. “If there's a form of wit I revere, it
+is practical joking.”
+
+“Doctor, you are a satirical beggar.”
+
+Staines told Tadcaster, and he went forward and chaffed his friend the
+quartermaster, who was one of the forecastle wits.
+
+“I say, quartermaster, why doesn't Neptune come on board?”
+
+Dead silence.
+
+“I wonder what has become of poor old Nep?”
+
+“Gone ashore!” growled the seaman. “Last seen in Rateliff Highway. Got a
+shop there--lends a shilling in the pound on seamen's advance tickets.”
+
+“Oh! and Amphitrite?”
+
+“Married the sexton at Wapping.”
+
+“And the Nereids?”
+
+“Neruds!” (scratching his head.) “I harn't kept my eye on them small
+craft. But I BELIEVE they are selling oysters in the port of Leith.”
+
+A light breeze carried them across the equator; but soon after they
+got becalmed, and it was dreary work, and the ship rolled gently, but
+continuously, and upset Lord Tadcaster's stomach again, and quenched his
+manly spirit.
+
+At last they were fortunate enough to catch the southeast trade, but it
+was so languid at first that the ship barely moved through the water,
+though they set every stitch, and studding sails alow and aloft, till
+really she was acres of canvas.
+
+While she was so creeping along, a man in the mizzentop noticed an
+enormous shark gliding steadily in her wake. This may seem a small
+incident, yet it ran through the ship like wildfire, and caused more or
+less uneasiness in three hundred stout hearts; so near is every seaman
+to death, and so strong the persuasion in their superstitious minds,
+that a shark does not follow a ship pertinaciously without a prophetic
+instinct of calamity.
+
+Unfortunately, the quartermaster conveyed this idea to Lord Tadcaster,
+and confirmed it by numerous examples to prove that there was always
+death at hand when a shark followed the ship.
+
+Thereupon Tadcaster took it into his head that he was under a relapse,
+and the shark was waiting for his dead body: he got quite low-spirited.
+
+Staines told Fitzroy. Fitzroy said, “Shark be hanged! I'll have him on
+deck in half an hour.” He got leave from the captain: a hook was
+baited with a large piece of pork, and towed astern by a stout line,
+experienced old hands attending to it by turns.
+
+The shark came up leisurely, surveyed the bait, and, I apprehend,
+ascertained the position of the hook. At all events, he turned quietly
+on his back, sucked the bait off, and retired to enjoy it.
+
+Every officer in the ship tried him in turn, but without success; for,
+if they got ready for him, and, the moment he took the bait, jerked the
+rope hard, in that case he opened his enormous mouth so wide that the
+bait and hook came out clear. But, sooner or later, he always got the
+bait, and left his captors the hook.
+
+This went on for days, and his huge dorsal fin always in the ship's
+wake.
+
+Then Tadcaster, who had watched these experiments with hope, lost his
+spirit and appetite.
+
+Staines reasoned with him, but in vain. Somebody was to die; and,
+although there were three hundred and more in the ship, he must be the
+one. At last he actually made his will, and threw himself into Staines's
+arms, and gave him messages to his mother and Lady Cicely; and ended by
+frightening himself into a fit.
+
+This roused Staines's pity, and also put him on his mettle. What,
+science be beaten by a shark!
+
+He pondered the matter with all his might; and at last an idea came to
+him.
+
+He asked the captain's permission to try his hand. This was accorded
+immediately, and the ship's stores placed at his disposal very politely,
+but with a sly, comical grin.
+
+Dr. Staines got from the carpenter some sheets of zinc and spare copper,
+and some flannel: these he cut into three-inch squares, and soaked the
+flannel in acidulated water. He then procured a quantity of bell-wire,
+the greater part of which he insulated by wrapping it round with hot
+gutta percha. So eager was he, that he did not turn in all night.
+
+In the morning he prepared what he called an electric fuse--he filled
+a soda-water bottle with gunpowder, attaching some cork to make it
+buoyant, put in the fuse and bung, made it water-tight, connected and
+insulated his main wires--enveloped the bottle in pork--tied a line to
+it, and let the bottle overboard.
+
+The captain and officers shook their heads mysteriously. The tars peeped
+and grinned from every rope to see a doctor try and catch a shark with
+a soda-water bottle and no hook; but somehow the doctor seemed to
+know what he was about, so they hovered round, and awaited the result,
+mystified, but curious, and showing their teeth from ear to ear.
+
+“The only thing I fear,” said Staines, “is that, the moment he takes the
+bait, he will cut the wire before I can complete the circuit, and fire
+the fuse.”
+
+Nevertheless, there was another objection to the success of the
+experiment. The shark had disappeared.
+
+“Well,” said the captain, “at all events, you have frightened him away.”
+
+“No,” said little Tadcaster, white as a ghost; “he is only under water,
+I know; waiting--waiting.”
+
+“There he is,” cried one in the ratlines.
+
+There was a rush to the taffrail--great excitement.
+
+“Keep clear of me,” said Staines quietly but firmly. “It can only be
+done at the moment before he cuts the wire.”
+
+The old shark swam slowly round the bait.
+
+He saw it was something new.
+
+He swam round and round it.
+
+“He won't take it,” said one.
+
+“He suspects something.”
+
+“Oh, yes, he will take the meat somehow, and leave the pepper. Sly old
+fox!”
+
+“He has eaten many a poor Jack, that one.”
+
+The shark turned slowly on his back, and, instead of grabbing at the
+bait, seemed to draw it by gentle suction into that capacious throat,
+ready to blow it out in a moment if it was not all right.
+
+The moment the bait was drawn out of sight, Staines completed the
+circuit; the bottle exploded with a fury that surprised him and
+everybody who saw it; a ton of water flew into the air, and came down in
+spray, and a gory carcass floated, belly uppermost, visibly staining the
+blue water.
+
+There was a roar of amazement and applause.
+
+The carcass was towed alongside, at Tadcaster's urgent request, and then
+the power of the explosion was seen. Confined, first by the bottle, then
+by the meat, then by the fish, and lastly by the water, it had exploded
+with tenfold power, had blown the brute's head into a million atoms, and
+had even torn a great furrow in its carcass, exposing three feet of the
+backbone.
+
+Taddy gloated on his enemy, and began to pick up again from that hour.
+
+The wind improved, and, as usual in that latitude, scarcely varied
+a point. They had a pleasant time,--private theatricals and other
+amusements till they got to latitude 26 deg. S. and longitude 27 deg. W.
+Then the trade wind deserted them. Light and variable winds succeeded.
+
+The master complained of the chronometers, and the captain thought it
+his duty to verify or correct them; and so shaped his course for the
+island of Tristan d'Acunha, then lying a little way out of his course. I
+ought, perhaps, to explain to the general reader that the exact position
+of this island being long ago established and recorded, it was an
+infallible guide to go by in verifying a ship's chronometers.
+
+Next day the glass fell all day, and the captain said he should
+double-reef topsails at nightfall, for something was brewing.
+
+The weather, however, was fine, and the ship was sailing very fast,
+when, about half an hour before sunset, the mast-head man hailed that
+there was a bulk of timber in sight, broad on the weather-bow.
+
+The signalman was sent up, and said it looked like a raft.
+
+The captain, who was on deck, levelled his glass at it, and made it out
+a raft, with a sort of rail to it, and the stump of a mast.
+
+He ordered the officer of the watch to keep the ship as close to the
+wind as possible. He should like to examine it if he could.
+
+The master represented, respectfully, that it would be unadvisable to
+beat to windward for that. “I have no faith in our chronometers, sir,
+and it is important to make the island before dark; fogs rise here so
+suddenly.”
+
+“Very well, Mr. Bolt; then I suppose we must let the raft go.”
+
+“MAN ON THE RAFT TO WINDWARD!” hailed the signalman.
+
+This electrified the ship. The captain ran up the mizzen rigging, and
+scanned the raft, now nearly abeam.
+
+“It IS a man!” he cried, and was about to alter the ship's course when,
+at that moment, the signalman hailed again,--
+
+“IT IS A CORPSE.”
+
+“How d'ye know?”
+
+“By the gulls.”
+
+Then succeeded an exciting dialogue between the captain and the master,
+who, being in his department, was very firm; and went so far as to say
+he would not answer for the safety of the ship, if they did not sight
+the land before dark.
+
+The captain said, “Very well,” and took a turn or two. But at last he
+said, “No. Her Majesty's ship must not pass a raft with a man on it,
+dead or alive.”
+
+He then began to give the necessary orders; but before they were all out
+of his mouth, a fatal interruption occurred.
+
+Tadcaster ran into Dr. Staines's cabin, crying, “A raft with a corpse
+close by!”
+
+Staines sprang to the quarter port to see, and craning eagerly out, the
+lower port chain, which had not been well secured, slipped, the port
+gave way, and as his whole weight rested on it, canted him headlong into
+the sea.
+
+A smart seaman in the forechains saw the accident, and instantly roared
+out, “MAN OVERBOARD!” a cry that sends a thrill through a ship's very
+ribs.
+
+Another smart fellow cut the life-buoy adrift so quickly that it struck
+the water within ten yards of Staines.
+
+The officer of the watch, without the interval of half a moment, gave
+the right orders, in the voice of a stentor;
+
+“Let go life-buoy.
+
+“Life-boat's crew away.
+
+“Hands shorten sail.
+
+“Mainsel up.
+
+“Main topsel to mast.”
+
+These orders were executed with admirable swiftness. Meantime there was
+a mighty rush of feet throughout the frigate, every hatchway was crammed
+with men eager to force their way on deck.
+
+In five seconds the middy of the watch and half her crew were in the lee
+cutter, fitted with Clifford's apparatus.
+
+“Lower away!” cried the excited officer; “the others will come down by
+the pendants.”
+
+The man stationed, sitting on the bottom boards, eased away roundly,
+when suddenly there was a hitch--the boat would go no farther.
+
+“Lower away there in the cutter! Why don't you lower?” screamed the
+captain, who had come over to leeward expecting to see the boat in the
+water.
+
+“The rope has swollen, sir, and the pendants won't unreeve,” cried the
+middy in agony.
+
+“Volunteers for the weather-boat!” shouted the first lieutenant; but
+the order was unnecessary, for more than the proper number were in her
+already.
+
+“Plug in--lower away.”
+
+But mishaps never come singly. Scarcely had this boat gone a foot from
+the davit, than the volunteer who was acting as coxswain, in reaching
+out for something, inadvertently let go the line, which, in Kynaston's
+apparatus, keeps the tackles hooked; consequently, down went the boat
+and crew twenty feet, with a terrific crash; the men were struggling for
+their lives, and the boat was stove.
+
+But, meantime, more men having been sent into the lee cutter, their
+weight caused the pendants to render, and the boat got afloat, and was
+soon employed picking up the struggling crew.
+
+Seeing this, Lieutenant Fitzroy collected some hands, and lowered the
+life-boat gig, which was fitted with common tackles, got down into her
+himself by the falls, and pulling round to windward, shouted to the
+signalman for directions.
+
+The signalman was at his post, and had fixed his eye on the man
+overboard, as his duty was; but his mess-mate was in the stove boat, and
+he had cast one anxious look down to see if he was saved, and, sad to
+relate, in that one moment he had lost sight of Staines; the sudden
+darkness--there was no twilight--confused him more, and the ship had
+increased her drift.
+
+Fitzroy, however, made a rapid calculation, and pulled to windward with
+all his might. He was followed in about a minute by the other sound boat
+powerfully manned, and both boats melted away into the night.
+
+There was a long and anxious suspense, during which it became pitch
+dark, and the ship burned blue lights to mark her position more plainly
+to the crews that were groping the sea for that beloved passenger.
+
+Captain Hamilton had no doubt that the fate of Staines was decided, one
+way or other, long before this; but he kept quiet until he saw the plain
+signs of a squall at hand. Then, as he was responsible for the safety of
+boats and ship, he sent up rockets to recall them.
+
+The cutter came alongside first. Lights were poured on her, and
+quavering voices asked, “Have you got him?”
+
+The answer was dead silence, and sorrowful, drooping heads.
+
+Sadly and reluctantly was the order given to hoist the boat in.
+
+Then the gig came alongside. Fitzroy seated in her, with his hands
+before his face; the men gloomy and sad.
+
+“GONE! GONE!”
+
+Soon the ship was battling a heavy squall.
+
+At midnight all quiet again, and hove to. Then, at the request of many,
+the bell was tolled, and the ship's company mustered bareheaded,
+and many a stout seaman in tears, as the last service was read for
+Christopher Staines.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+Rosa fell ill with grief at the hotel, and could not move for some days;
+but the moment she was strong enough, she insisted on leaving Plymouth:
+like all wounded things, she must drag herself home.
+
+But what a home! How empty it struck, and she heart-sick and desolate.
+Now all the familiar places wore a new aspect: the little yard, where he
+had so walked and waited, became a temple to her, and she came out
+and sat in it, and now first felt to the full how much he had suffered
+there--with what fortitude. She crept about the house, and kissed
+the chair he had sat in, and every much-used place and thing of the
+departed.
+
+Her shallow nature deepened and deepened under this bereavement, of
+which, she said to herself, with a shudder, she was the cause. And this
+is the course of nature; there is nothing like suffering to enlighten
+the giddy brain, widen the narrow mind, improve the trivial heart.
+
+As her regrets were tender and deep, so her vows of repentance
+were sincere. Oh, what a wife she would make when he came back! how
+thoughtful! how prudent! how loyal! and never have a secret. She who had
+once said, “What is the use of your writing? nobody will publish it,”
+ now collected and perused every written scrap. With simple affection
+she even locked up his very waste-paper basket, full of fragments he had
+torn, or useless papers he had thrown there, before he went to Plymouth.
+
+In the drawer of his writing-table she found his diary. It was a
+thick quarto: it began with their marriage, and ended with his leaving
+home--for then he took another volume. This diary became her Bible; she
+studied it daily, till her tears hid his lines. The entries were very
+miscellaneous, very exact; it was a map of their married life. But
+what she studied most was his observations on her own character, so
+scientific, yet so kindly; and his scholar-like and wise reflections.
+The book was an unconscious picture of a great mind she had hitherto but
+glanced at: now she saw it all plain before her; saw it, understood it,
+adored it, mourned it. Such women are shallow, not for want of a
+head upon their shoulders, but of ATTENTION. They do not really
+study anything: they have been taught at their schools the bad art of
+skimming; but let their hearts compel their brains to think and think,
+the result is considerable. The deepest philosopher never fathomed a
+character more thoroughly than this poor child fathomed her philosopher,
+when she had read his journal ten or eleven times, and bedewed it with a
+thousand tears.
+
+One passage almost cut her more intelligent heart in twain:--
+
+“This dark day I have done a thing incredible. I have spoken with brutal
+harshness to the innocent creature I have sworn to protect. She had run
+in debt, through inexperience, and that unhappy timidity which makes
+women conceal an error till it ramifies, by concealment, into a fault;
+and I must storm and rave at her, till she actually fainted away. Brute!
+Ruffian! Monster! And she, how did she punish me, poor lamb? By soft
+and tender words--like a lady, as she is. Oh, my sweet Rosa, I wish you
+could know how you are avenged. Talk of the scourge--the cat! I would be
+thankful for two dozen lashes. Ah! there is no need, I think, to punish
+a man who has been cruel to a woman. Let him alone. He will punish
+himself more than you can, if he is really a man.”
+
+From the date of that entry, this self-reproach and self-torture kept
+cropping up every now and then in the diary; and it appeared to have
+been not entirely without its influence in sending Staines to sea,
+though the main reason he gave was that his Rosa might have the comforts
+and luxuries she had enjoyed before she married him.
+
+One day, while she was crying over this diary, Uncle Philip called; but
+not to comfort her, I promise you. He burst on her, irate, to take her
+to task. He had returned, learned Christopher's departure, and settled
+the reason in his own mind: that uxorious fool was gone to sea by a
+natural reaction; his eyes were open to his wife at last, and he was
+sick of her folly; so he had fled to distant climes, as who would not,
+that could?
+
+“SO, ma'am,” said he, “my nephew is gone to sea, I find--all in a hurry.
+Pray may I ask what he has done that for?”
+
+It was a very simple question, yet it did not elicit a very plain
+answer. She only stared at this abrupt inquisitor, and then cried,
+piteously, “Oh, Uncle Philip!” and burst out sobbing.
+
+“Why, what is the matter?”
+
+“You WILL hate me now. He is gone to make money for ME; and I would
+rather have lived on a crust. Uncle--don't hate me. I'm a poor,
+bereaved, heart-broken creature, that repents.”
+
+“Repents! heigho! why, what have you been up to now, ma'am? No great
+harm, I'll be bound. Flirting a little with some FOOL--eh?”
+
+“Flirting! Me! a married woman.”
+
+“Oh, to be sure; I forgot. Why, surely he has not deserted you.”
+
+“My Christopher desert me! He loves me too well; far more than I
+deserve; but not more than I will. Uncle Philip, I am too confused and
+wretched to tell you all that has happened; but I know you love him,
+though you had a tiff: uncle, he called on you, to shake hands and ask
+your forgiveness, poor fellow! He was so sorry you were away. Please
+read his dear diary: it will tell you all, better than his poor foolish
+wife can. I know it by heart. I'll show you where you and he quarrelled
+about me. There, see.” And she showed him the passage with her finger.
+“He never told me it was that, or I would have come and begged your
+pardon on my knees. But see how sorry he was. There, see. And now I'll
+show you another place, where my Christopher speaks of your many, many
+acts of kindness. There, see. And now please let me show you how he
+longed for reconciliation. There, see. And it is the same through
+the book. And now I'll show you how grieved he was to go without your
+blessing. I told him I was sure you would give him that, and him going
+away. Ah, me! will he ever return? Uncle dear, don't hate me. What shall
+I do, now he is gone, if you disown me? Why, you are the only Staines
+left me to love.”
+
+“Disown you, ma'am! that I'll never do. You are a good-hearted
+young woman, I find. There, run and dry your eyes; and let me read
+Christopher's diary all through. Then I shall see how the land lies.”
+
+Rosa complied with his proposal; and left him alone while she bathed her
+eyes, and tried to compose herself, for she was all trembling at this
+sudden irruption.
+
+When she returned to the drawing-room, he was walking about, looking
+grave and thoughtful.
+
+“It is the old story,” said he, rather gently: “a MISUNDERSTANDING. How
+wise our ancestors were that first used that word to mean a quarrel!
+for, look into twenty quarrels, and you shall detect a score of
+mis-under-standings. Yet our American cousins must go and substitute the
+un-ideaed word 'difficulty'; that is wonderful. I had no quarrel with
+him: delighted to see either of you. But I had called twice on him; so I
+thought he ought to get over his temper, and call on a tried friend
+like me. A misunderstanding! Now, my dear, let us have no more of these
+misunderstandings. You will always be welcome at my house, and I shall
+often come here and look after you and your interests. What do you mean
+to do, I wonder?”
+
+“Sir, I am to go home to my father, if he will be troubled with me. I
+have written to him.”
+
+“And what is to become of the Bijou?”
+
+“My Christie thought I should like to part with it, and the
+furniture--but his own writing-desk and his chair, no, I never will,
+and his little clock. Oh! oh! oh!--But I remember what you said about
+agents, and I don't know what to do; for I shall be away.”
+
+“Then, leave it to me. I'll come and live here with one servant; and
+I'll soon sell it for you.”
+
+“You, Uncle Philip!”
+
+“Well, why not?” said he roughly.
+
+“That will be a great trouble and discomfort to you, I'm afraid.”
+
+“If I find it so, I'll soon drop it. I'm not the fool to put myself out
+for anybody. When you are ready to go out, send me word, and I'll come
+in.”
+
+Soon after this he bustled off. He gave her a sort of hurried kiss at
+parting, as if he was ashamed of it, and wanted it over as quickly as
+possible.
+
+Next day her father came, condoled with her politely, assured her there
+was nothing to cry about; husbands were a sort of functionaries that
+generally went to sea at some part of their career, and no harm ever
+came of it. On the contrary, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” said
+this judicious parent.
+
+This sentiment happened to be just a little too true, and set the
+daughter crying bitterly. But she fought against it. “Oh no!” said she,
+“I MUSTN'T. I will not be always crying in Kent Villa.”
+
+“Lord forbid!”
+
+“I shall get over it in time--a little.”
+
+“Why, of course you will. But as to your coming to Kent Villa, I
+am afraid you would not be very comfortable there. You know I am
+superannuated. Only got my pension now.”
+
+“I know that, papa: and--why, that is one of the reasons. I have a good
+income now; and I thought if we put our means together”--
+
+“Oh, that is a very different thing. You will want a carriage, I
+suppose. I have put mine down.”
+
+“No carriage; no horse; no footman; no luxury of any kind till my
+Christie comes back. I abhor dress; I abhor expense; I loathe everything
+I once liked too well; I detest every folly that has parted us; and I
+hate myself worst of all. Oh! oh! oh! Forgive me for crying so.”
+
+“Well, I dare say there are associations about this place that upset
+you. I shall go and make ready for you, dear; and then you can come as
+soon as you like.”
+
+He bestowed a paternal kiss on her brow, and glided doucely away before
+she could possibly cry again.
+
+The very next week Rosa was at Kent Villa, with the relics of her
+husband about her; his chair, his writing-table, his clock, his
+waste-paper basket, a very deep and large one. She had them all in her
+bedroom at Kent Villa.
+
+Here the days glided quietly but heavily.
+
+She derived some comfort from Uncle Philip. His rough, friendly way was
+a tonic, and braced her. He called several times about the Bijou. Told
+her he had put up enormous boards all over the house, and puffed it
+finely. “I have had a hundred agents at me,” said he; “and the next
+thing, I hope, will be one customer; that is about the proportion.”
+ At last he wrote her he had hooked a victim, and sold the lease and
+furniture for nine hundred guineas. Staines had assigned the lease to
+Rosa, so she had full powers; and Philip invested the money, and two
+hundred more she gave him, in a little mortgage at six per cent.
+
+Now came the letter from Madeira. It gave her new life. Christopher
+was well, contented, hopeful. His example should animate her. She would
+bravely bear the present, and share his hopes of the future: with
+these brighter views Nature co-operated. The instincts of approaching
+maternity brightened the future. She fell into gentle reveries, and saw
+her husband return, and saw herself place their infant in his arms with
+all a wife's, a mother's pride.
+
+In due course came another long letter from the equator, with a
+full journal, and more words of hope. Home in less than a year, with
+reputation increased by this last cure; home, to part no more.
+
+Ah! what a changed wife he should find! how frugal, how candid, how full
+of appreciation, admiration, and love, of the noblest, dearest husband
+that ever breathed!
+
+Lady Cicely Treherne waited some weeks, to let kinder sentiments return.
+She then called in Dear Street, but found Mrs. Staines was gone to
+Gravesend. She wrote to her.
+
+In a few days she received a reply, studiously polite and cold.
+
+This persistent injustice mortified her at last. She said to herself,
+“Does she think his departure was no loss to ME? It was to her
+interests, as well as his, I sacrificed my own selfish wishes. I will
+write to her no more.”
+
+This resolution she steadily maintained. It was shaken for a moment,
+when she heard, by a side wind, that Mrs. Staines was fast approaching
+the great pain and peril of women. Then she wavered. But no. She prayed
+for her by name in the Liturgy, but she troubled her no more.
+
+This state of things lasted some six weeks, when she received a letter
+from her cousin Tadcaster, close on the heels of his last, to which she
+had replied as I have indicated. She knew his handwriting, and opened it
+with a smile.
+
+That smile soon died off her horror-stricken face. The letter ran
+thus:--
+
+
+TRISTAN D'ACUNHA, Jan. 5.
+
+DEAR CICELY,--A terrible thing has just happened. We signalled a raft,
+with a body on it, and poor Dr. Staines leaned out of the port-hole,
+and fell overboard. Three boats were let down after him; but it all went
+wrong, somehow, or it was too late. They could never find him, he was
+drowned; and the funeral service was read for the poor fellow.
+
+We are all sadly cut up. Everybody loved him. It was dreadful next
+day at dinner, when his chair was empty. The very sailors cried at not
+finding him.
+
+First of all, I thought I ought to write to his wife. I know where she
+lives; it is called Kent Villa, Gravesend. But I was afraid; it might
+kill her: and you are so good and sensible, I thought I had better write
+to you, and perhaps you could break it to her by degrees, before it gets
+in all the papers.
+
+I send this from the island, by a small vessel, and paid him ten pounds
+to take it.
+
+Your affectionate cousin,
+
+TADCASTER.
+
+
+Words are powerless to describe a blow like this: the amazement, the
+stupor, the reluctance to believe--the rising, swelling, surging horror.
+She sat like a woman of stone, crumpling the letter. “Dead!--dead?”
+
+For a long time this was all her mind could realize--that Christopher
+Staines was dead. He who had been so full of life and thought and
+genius, and worthier to live than all the world, was dead; and a million
+nobodies were still alive, and he was dead.
+
+She lay back on the sofa, and all the power left her limbs. She could
+not move a hand.
+
+But suddenly she started up; for a noble instinct told her this blow
+must not fall on the wife as it had on her, and in her time of peril.
+
+She had her bonnet on in a moment, and for the first time in her life,
+darted out of the house without her maid. She flew along the streets,
+scarcely feeling the ground. She got to Dear Street, and obtained Philip
+Staines's address. She flew to it, and there learned he was down at
+Kent Villa. Instantly she telegraphed to her maid to come down to her
+at Gravesend, with things for a short visit, and wait for her at the
+station; and she went down by train to Gravesend.
+
+Hitherto she had walked on air, driven by one overpowering impulse.
+Now, as she sat in the train, she thought a little of herself. What was
+before her? To break to Mrs. Staines that her husband was dead. To tell
+her all her misgivings were more than justified. To encounter her cold
+civility, and let her know, inch by inch, it must be exchanged for
+curses and tearing of hair; her husband was dead. To tell her this, and
+in the telling of it, perhaps reveal that it was HER great bereavement,
+as well as the wife's, for she had a deeper affection for him than she
+ought.
+
+Well, she trembled like an aspen leaf, trembled like one in an ague,
+even as she sat. But she persevered.
+
+A noble woman has her courage; not exactly the same as that which leads
+forlorn hopes against bastions bristling with rifles and tongued with
+flames and thunderbolts; yet not inferior to it.
+
+Tadcaster, small and dull, but noble by birth and instinct, had seen the
+right thing for her to do; and she, of the same breed, and nobler far,
+had seen it too; and the great soul steadily drew the recoiling heart
+and quivering body to this fiery trial, this act of humanity--to do
+which was terrible and hard, to shirk it, cowardly and cruel.
+
+She reached Gravesend, and drove in a fly to Kent Villa.
+
+The door was opened by a maid.
+
+“Is Mrs. Staines at home?”
+
+“Yes, ma'am, she is at HOME: but--”
+
+“Can I see her?”
+
+“Why, no, ma'am, not at present.”
+
+“But I must see her. I am an old friend. Please take her my card. Lady
+Cicely Treherne.”
+
+The maid hesitated, and looked confused. “Perhaps you don't know, ma'am.
+Mrs. Staines, she is--the doctor have been in the house all day.”
+
+“Ah, the doctor! I believe Dr. Philip Staines is here.”
+
+“Why, that IS the doctor, ma'am. Yes, he is here.”
+
+“Then, pray let me see him--or no; I had better see Mr. Lusignan.”
+
+“Master have gone out for the day, ma'am; but if you'll step in the
+drawing-room, I'll tell the doctor.”
+
+Lady Cicely waited in the drawing-room some time, heart-sick and
+trembling.
+
+At last Dr. Philip came in, with her card in his hand, looking evidently
+a little cross at the interruption. “Now, madam, please tell me, as
+briefly as you can, what I can do for you.”
+
+“Are you Dr. Philip Staines?”
+
+“I am, madam, at your service--for five minutes. Can't quit my patient
+long, just now.”
+
+“Oh, sir, thank God I have found you. Be prepared for ill news--sad
+news--a terrible calamity--I can't speak. Read that, sir.” And she
+handed him Tadcaster's note.
+
+He took it, and read it.
+
+He buried his face in his hands. “Christopher! my poor, poor boy!”
+ he groaned. But suddenly a terrible anxiety seized him. “Who knows of
+this?” he asked.
+
+“Only myself, sir. I came here to break it to her.”
+
+“You are a good, kind lady, for being so thoughtful. Madam, if this gets
+to my niece's ears, it will kill her, as sure as we stand here.”
+
+“Then let us keep it from her. Command me, sir. I will do anything. I
+will live here--take the letters in--the journals--anything.”
+
+“No, no; you have done your part, and God bless you for it. You must not
+stay here. Your ladyship's very presence, and your agitation, would set
+the servants talking, and some idiot-fiend among them babbling--there is
+nothing so terrible as a fool.”
+
+“May I remain at the inn, sir; just one night?”
+
+“Oh yes, I wish you would; and I will run over, if all is well with
+her--well with her? poor unfortunate girl!”
+
+Lady Cicely saw he wished her gone, and she went directly.
+
+At nine o'clock that same evening, as she lay on a sofa in the best room
+of the inn, attended by her maid, Dr. Philip Staines came to her. She
+dismissed her maid.
+
+Dr. Philip was too old, in other words, had lost too many friends, to
+be really broken down by bereavement; but he was strangely subdued. The
+loud tones were out of him, and the loud laugh, and even the keen sneer.
+Yet he was the same man; but with a gentler surface; and this was not
+without its pathos.
+
+“Well, madam,” said he gravely and quietly. “It is as it always has
+been. 'As is the race of leaves, so that of man.' When one falls,
+another comes. Here's a little Christopher come, in place of him that is
+gone: a brave, beautiful boy, ma'am; the finest but one I ever brought
+into the world. He is come to take his father's place in our hearts--I
+see you valued his poor father, ma'am--but he comes too late for me. At
+your age, ma'am, friendships come naturally; they spring like loves in
+the soft heart of youth: at seventy, the gate is not so open; the soil
+is more sterile. I shall never care for another Christopher; never see
+another grow to man's estate.”
+
+“The mother, sir,” sobbed Lady Cicely; “the poor mother?”
+
+“Like them all--poor creature: in heaven, madam; in heaven. New life!
+new existence! a new character. All the pride, glory, rapture, and
+amazement of maternity--thanks to her ignorance, which we must prolong,
+or I would not give one straw for her life, or her son's. I shall never
+leave the house till she does know it, and come when it may, I dread the
+hour. She is not framed by nature to bear so deadly a shock.”
+
+“Her father, sir. Would he not be the best person to break it to her? He
+was out to-day.”
+
+“Her father, ma'am? I shall get no help from him. He is one of those
+soft, gentle creatures, that come into the world with what your canting
+fools call a mission; and his mission is to take care of number one.
+Not dishonestly, mind you, nor violently, nor rudely, but doucely and
+calmly. The care a brute like me takes of his vitals, that care Lusignan
+takes of his outer cuticle. His number one is a sensitive plant. No
+scenes, no noise; nothing painful--by-the-by, the little creature that
+writes in the papers, and calls calamities PAINFUL, is of Lusignan's
+breed. Out to-day! of course he was out, ma'am: he knew from me his
+daughter would be in peril all day, so he visited a friend. He knew his
+own tenderness, and evaded paternal sensibilities: a self-defender. I
+count on no help from that charming man.”
+
+“A man! I call such creachaas weptiles!” said Lady Cicely, her ghastly
+cheek coloring for a moment.
+
+“Then you give them a false importance.”
+
+In the course of this interview, Lady Cicely accused herself sadly of
+having interfered between man and wife, and with the best intentions
+brought about this cruel calamity. “Judge, then, sir,” said she,
+“how grateful I am to you for undertaking this cruel task. I was her
+schoolfellow, sir, and I love her dearly; but she has turned against me,
+and now, oh, with what horror she will regard me!”
+
+“Madam,” said the doctor, “there is nothing more mean and unjust than
+to judge others by events that none could foresee. Your conscience
+is clear. You did your best for my poor nephew: but Fate willed it
+otherwise. As for my niece, she has many virtues, but justice is one
+you must not look for in that quarter. Justice requires brains. It's
+a virtue the heart does not deal in. You must be content with your own
+good conscience, and an old man's esteem. You did all for the best; and
+this very day you have done a good, kind action. God bless you for it!”
+
+Then he left her; and next day she went sadly home, and for many a long
+day the hollow world saw nothing of Cicely Treherne.
+
+When Mr. Lusignan came home that night, Dr. Philip told him the
+miserable story, and his fears. He received it, not as Philip had
+expected. The bachelor had counted without his dormant paternity. He
+was terror-stricken--abject--fell into a chair, and wrung his hands,
+and wept piteously. To keep it from his daughter till she should be
+stronger, seemed to him chimerical, impossible. However, Philip insisted
+it must be done; and he must make some excuse for keeping out of her
+way, or his manner would rouse her suspicions. He consented readily to
+that, and indeed left all to Dr. Philip.
+
+Dr. Philip trusted nobody; not even his own confidential servant. He
+allowed no journal to come into the house without passing through his
+hands, and he read them all before he would let any other soul in the
+house see them. He asked Rosa to let him be her secretary and open her
+letters, giving as a pretext that it would be as well she should have no
+small worries or trouble just now.
+
+“Why,” said she, “I was never so well able to bear them. It must be a
+great thing to put me out now. I am so happy, and live in the future.
+Well, dear uncle, you can if you like--what does it matter?--only there
+must be one exception: my own Christie's letters, you know.”
+
+“Of course,” said he, wincing inwardly.
+
+The very next day came a letter of condolence from Miss Lucas. Dr.
+Philip intercepted it, and locked it up, to be shown her at a more
+fitting time.
+
+But how could he hope to keep so public a thing as this from entering
+the house in one of a hundred newspapers?
+
+He went into Gravesend, and searched all the newspapers, to see what he
+had to contend with. To his horror, he found it in several dailies and
+weeklies, and in two illustrated papers. He sat aghast at the difficulty
+and the danger.
+
+The best thing he could think of was to buy them all, and cut out the
+account. He did so, and brought all the papers, thus mutilated, into
+the house, and sent them into the kitchen. He said to his old servant,
+“These may amuse Mr. Lusignan's people, and I have extracted all that
+interests me.”
+
+By these means he hoped that none of the servants would go and buy more
+of these same papers elsewhere.
+
+Notwithstanding these precautions, he took the nurse apart, and said,
+“Now, you are an experienced woman, and to be trusted about an excitable
+patient. Mind, I object to any female servant entering Mrs. Staines's
+room with gossip. Keep them outside the door for the present, please.
+Oh, and nurse, if anything should happen, likely to grieve or to worry
+her, it must be kept from her entirely: can I trust you?”
+
+“You may, sir.”
+
+“I shall add ten guineas to your fee, if she gets through the month
+without a shock or disturbance of any kind.”
+
+She stared at him, inquiringly. Then she said,--
+
+“You may rely on me, doctor.”
+
+“I feel I may. Still, she alarms me. She looks quiet enough, but she is
+very excitable.”
+
+Not all these precautions gave Dr. Philip any real sense of security;
+still less did they to Mr. Lusignan. He was not a tender father, in
+small things, but the idea of actual danger to his only child was
+terrible to him and he now passed his life in a continual tremble.
+
+This is the less to be wondered at, when I tell you that even the stout
+Philip began to lose his nerve, his appetite, his sleep, under this
+hourly terror and this hourly torture.
+
+Well did the great imagination of antiquity feign a torment, too great
+for the mind long to endure, in the sword of Damocles suspended by
+a single hair over his head. Here the sword hung over an innocent
+creature, who smiled beneath it, fearless; but these two old men must
+sit and watch the sword, and ask themselves how long before that subtle
+salvation shall snap.
+
+“Ill news travels fast,” says the proverb. “The birds of the air shall
+carry the matter,” says Holy Writ; and it is so. No bolts nor bars, no
+promises nor precautions, can long shut out a great calamity from the
+ears it is to blast, the heart it is to wither. The very air seems full
+of it, until it falls.
+
+Rosa's child was more than a fortnight old; and she was looking more
+beautiful than ever, as is often the case with a very young mother, and
+Dr. Philip complimented her on her looks. “Now,” said he, “you reap the
+advantage of being good, and obedient, and keeping quiet. In another ten
+days or so, I may take you to the seaside for a week. I have the honor
+to inform you that from about the fourth to the tenth of March there is
+always a week of fine weather, which takes everybody by surprise, except
+me. It does not astonish me, because I observe it is invariable. Now,
+what would you say if I gave you a week at Herne Bay, to set you up
+altogether?”
+
+“As you please, dear uncle,” said Mrs. Staines, with a sweet smile. “I
+shall be very happy to go, or to stay. I shall be happy everywhere, with
+my darling boy, and the thought of my husband. Why, I count the days
+till he shall come back to me. No, to us; to us, my pet. How dare a
+naughty mammy say to 'me,' as if 'me' was half the 'portance of oo, a
+precious pets!”
+
+Dr. Philip was surprised into a sigh.
+
+“What is the matter, dear?” said Rosa, very quickly.
+
+“The matter?”
+
+“Yes, dear, the matter. You sighed; you, the laughing philosopher.”
+
+“Did I?” said he, to gain time. “Perhaps I remembered the uncertainty of
+human life, and of all mortal hopes. The old will have their thoughts,
+my dear. They have seen so much trouble.”
+
+“But, uncle dear, he is a very healthy child.”
+
+“Very.”
+
+“And you told me yourself carelessness was the cause so many children
+die.”
+
+“That is true.”
+
+She gave him a curious and rather searching look; then, leaning over
+her boy, said, “Mammy's not afraid. Beautiful Pet was not born to die
+directly. He will never leave his mam-ma. No, uncle, he never can. For
+my life is bound in his and his dear father's. It is a triple cord: one
+go, go all.”
+
+She said this with a quiet resolution that chilled Uncle Philip.
+
+At this moment the nurse, who had been bending so pertinaciously over
+some work that her eyes were invisible, looked quickly up, cast a
+furtive glance at Mrs. Staines, and finding she was employed for the
+moment, made an agitated signal to Dr. Philip. All she did was to
+clench her two hands and lift them half way to her face, and then cast a
+frightened look towards the door; but Philip's senses were so sharpened
+by constant alarm and watching, that he saw at once something serious
+was the matter. But as he had asked himself what he should do in case
+of some sudden alarm, he merely gave a nod of intelligence to the nurse,
+scarcely perceptible, then rose quietly from his seat, and went to the
+window. “Snow coming, I think,” said he. “For all that we shall have the
+March summer in ten days. You mark my words.” He then went leisurely
+out of the room; at the door he turned, and, with all the cunning he was
+master of, said, “Oh, by the by, come to my room, nurse, when you are at
+leisure.”
+
+“Yes, doctor,” said the nurse, but never moved. She was too bent on
+hiding the agitation she really felt.
+
+“Had you not better go to him, nurse?”
+
+“Perhaps I had, madam.”
+
+She rose with feigned indifference, and left the room. She walked
+leisurely down the passage, then, casting a hasty glance behind her,
+for fear Mrs. Staines should be watching her, hurried into the doctor's
+room. They met at once in the middle of the room, and Mrs. Briscoe burst
+out, “Sir, it is known all over the house!”
+
+“Heaven forbid! What is known?”
+
+“What you would give the world to keep from her. Why, sir, the moment
+you cautioned me, of course I saw there was trouble. But little I
+thought--sir, not a servant in the kitchen or the stable but knows that
+her husband--poor thing! poor thing!--Ah! there goes the housemaid--to
+have a look at her.”
+
+“Stop her!”
+
+Mrs. Briscoe had not waited for this; she rushed after the woman, and
+told her Mrs. Staines was sleeping, and the room must not be entered on
+any account.
+
+“Oh, very well,” said the maid, rather sullenly.
+
+Mrs. Briscoe saw her return to the kitchen, and came back to Dr.
+Staines; he was pacing the room in torments of anxiety.
+
+“Doctor,” said she, “it is the old story: 'Servants' friends, the
+master's enemies.' An old servant came here to gossip with her friend
+the cook (she never could abide her while they were together, by all
+accounts), and told her the whole story of his being drowned at sea.”
+
+Dr. Philip groaned, “Cursed chatterbox!” said he. “What is to be done?
+Must we break it to her now? Oh, if I could only buy a few days more!
+The heart to be crushed while the body is weak! It is too cruel. Advise
+me, Mrs. Briscoe. You are an experienced woman, and I think you are a
+kind-hearted woman.”
+
+“Well, sir,” said Mrs. Briscoe, “I had the name of it, when I was
+younger--before Briscoe failed, and I took to nursing; which it hardens,
+sir, by use, and along of the patients themselves; for sick folk are
+lumps of selfishness; we see more of them than you do, sir. But this I
+WILL say, 'tisn't selfishness that lies now in that room, waiting for
+the blow that will bring her to death's door, I'm sore afraid; but a
+sweet, gentle, thoughtful creature, as ever supped sorrow; for I don't
+know how 'tis, doctor, nor why 'tis, but an angel like that has always
+to sup sorrow.”
+
+“But you do not advise me,” said the doctor, in agitation, “and
+something must be done.”
+
+“Advise you, sir; it is not for me to do that. I am sure I'm at my wits'
+ends, poor thing! Well, sir, I don't see what you can do, but try and
+break it to her. Better so, than let it come to her like a clap of
+thunder. But I think, sir, I'd have a wet-nurse ready, before I said
+much: for she is very quick--and ten to one but the first word of such a
+thing turns her blood to gall. Sir, I once knew a poor woman--she was
+a carpenter's wife--a-nursing her child in the afternoon--and in runs a
+foolish woman, and tells her he was killed dead, off a scaffold. 'Twas
+the man's sister told her. Well, sir, she was knocked stupid like, and
+she sat staring, and nursing of her child, before she could take it in
+rightly. The child was dead before supper-time, and the woman was not
+long after. The whole family was swept away, sir, in a few hours, and
+I mind the table was not cleared he had dined on, when they came to lay
+them out. Well-a-day, nurses see sorrow!”
+
+“We all see sorrow that live long, Mrs. Briscoe. I am heart-broken
+myself; I am desperate. You are a good soul, and I'll tell you. When
+my nephew married this poor girl, I was very angry with him; and I soon
+found she was not fit to be a struggling man's wife; and then I was very
+angry with her. She had spoiled a first-rate physician, I thought. But,
+since I knew her better, it is all changed. She is so lovable. How I
+shall ever tell her this terrible thing, God knows. All I know is, that
+I will not throw a chance away. Her body SHALL be stronger, before I
+break her heart. Cursed idiots, that could not save a single man, with
+their boats, in a calm sea! Lord forgive me for blaming people, when I
+was not there to see. I say I will give her every chance. She shall not
+know it till she is stronger: no, not if I live at her door, and sleep
+there, and all. Good God! inspire me with something. There is always
+something to be done, if one could but see it.”
+
+Mrs. Briscoe sighed and said, “Sir, I think anything is better than for
+her to hear it from a servant--and they are sure to blurt it out. Young
+women are such fools.”
+
+“No, no; I see what it is,” said Dr. Philip. “I have gone all wrong from
+the first. I have been acting like a woman, when I should have acted
+like a man. Why, I only trusted YOU by halves. There was a fool for you.
+Never trust people by halves.”
+
+“That is true, sir.”
+
+“Well, then, now I shall go at it like a man. I have a vile opinion of
+servants; but no matter. I'll try them: they are human, I suppose. I'll
+hit them between the eyes like a man. Go to the kitchen, Mrs. Briscoe,
+and tell them I wish to speak to all the servants, indoors or out.”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+She stopped at the door, and said, “I had better get back to her, as
+soon as I have told them.”
+
+“Certainly.”
+
+“And what shall I tell her, sir? Her first word will be to ask me what
+you wanted me for. I saw that in her eye. She was curious: that is why
+she sent me after you so quick.”
+
+Dr. Philip groaned. He felt he was walking among pitfalls. He rapidly
+flavored some distilled water with orange-flower, then tinted it a
+beautiful pink, and bottled it. “There,” said he; “I was mixing a new
+medicine. Tablespoon, four times a day: had to filter it. Any lie you
+like.”
+
+Mrs. Briscoe went to the kitchen, and gave her message: then went to
+Mrs. Staines with the mixture.
+
+Dr. Philip went down to the kitchen, and spoke to the servants very
+solemnly. He said, “My good friends, I am come to ask your help in a
+matter of life and death. There is a poor young woman up-stairs; she
+is a widow, and does not know it; and must not know it yet. If the blow
+fell now, I think it would kill her: indeed, if she hears it all of a
+sudden, at any time, that might destroy her. We are in so sore a strait
+that a feather may turn the scale. So we must try all we can to gain a
+little time, and then trust to God's mercy after all. Well, now, what
+do you say? Will you help me keep it from her, till the tenth of March,
+say? and then I will break it to her by degrees. Forget she is your
+mistress. Master and servant, that is all very well at a proper time;
+but this is the time to remember nothing but that we are all one flesh
+and blood. We lie down together in the churchyard, and we hope to rise
+together where there will be no master and servant. Think of the poor
+unfortunate creature as your own flesh and blood, and tell me, will you
+help me try and save her, under this terrible blow?”
+
+“Ay, doctor, that we will,” said the footman. “Only you give us our
+orders, and you will see.”
+
+“I have no right to give you orders; but I entreat you not to show her
+by word or look, that calamity is upon her. Alas! it is only a reprieve
+you can give her and to me. The bitter hour MUST come when I must tell
+her she is a widow, and her boy an orphan. When that day comes, I will
+ask you all to pray for me that I may find words. But now I ask you to
+give me that ten days' reprieve. Let the poor creature recover a little
+strength, before the thunderbolt of affliction falls on her head. Will
+you promise me?”
+
+They promised heartily; and more than one of the women began to cry.
+
+“A general assent will not satisfy me,” said Dr. Philip. “I want every
+man, and every woman, to give me a hand upon it; then I shall feel sure
+of you.”
+
+The men gave him their hands at once. The women wiped their hands with
+their aprons, to make sure they were clean, and gave him their hands
+too. The cook said, “If any one of us goes from it, this kitchen will be
+too hot to hold her.”
+
+“Nobody will go from it, cook,” said the doctor. “I'm not afraid of
+that; and now since you have promised me, out of your own good hearts,
+I'll try and be even with you. If she knows nothing of it by the tenth
+of March, five guineas to every man and woman in this kitchen. You shall
+see that, if you can be kind, we can be grateful.”
+
+He then hurried away. He found Mr. Lusignan in the drawing-room, and
+told him all this. Lusignan was fluttered, but grateful. “Ah, my good
+friend,” said he, “this is a hard trial to two old men, like you and
+me.”
+
+“It is,” said Philip. “It has shown me my age. I declare I am trembling;
+I, whose nerves were iron. But I have a particular contempt for
+servants. Mercenary wretches! I think Heaven inspired me to talk to
+them. After all, who knows? perhaps we might find a way to their hearts,
+if we did not eternally shock their vanity, and forget that it is, and
+must be, far greater than our own. The women gave me their tears,
+and the men were earnest. Not one hand lay cold in mine. As for your
+kitchen-maid, I'd trust my life to that girl. What a grip she gave
+me! What strength! What fidelity was in it! My hand was never GRASPED
+before. I think we are safe for a few days more.”
+
+Lusignan sighed. “What does it all come to? We are pulling the trigger
+gently, that is all.”
+
+“No, no; that is not it. Don't let us confound the matter with similes,
+please. Keep them for children.”
+
+Mrs. Staines left her bed; and would have left her room, but Dr. Philip
+forbade it strictly.
+
+One day, seated in her arm-chair, she said to the nurse, before Dr.
+Philip, “Nurse, why do the servants look so curiously at me?”
+
+Mrs. Briscoe cast a hasty glance at Dr. Philip, and then said, “I don't
+know, madam. I never noticed that.”
+
+“Uncle, why did nurse look at you before she answered such a simple
+question?”
+
+“I don't know. What question?”
+
+“About the servants.”
+
+“Oh, about the servants!” said he contemptuously.
+
+“You should not turn up your nose at them, for they are all most kind
+and attentive. Only, I catch them looking at me so strangely; really--as
+if they--”
+
+“Rosa, you are taking me quite out of my depth. The looks of servant
+girls! Why, of course a lady in your condition is an object of especial
+interest to them. I dare say they are saying to one another, 'I wonder
+when my turn will come!' A fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind--that
+is a proverb, is it not?”
+
+“To be sure. I forgot that.”
+
+She said no more; but seemed thoughtful, and not quite satisfied.
+
+On this Dr. Philip begged the maids to go near her as little as
+possible. “You are not aware of it,” said he, “but your looks, and
+your manner of speaking, rouse her attention, and she is quicker than I
+thought she was, and observes very subtly.”
+
+This was done; and then she complained that nobody came near her. She
+insisted on coming down-stairs; it was so dull.
+
+Dr. Philip consented, if she would be content to receive no visits for a
+week.
+
+She assented to that; and now passed some hours every day in the
+drawing-room. In her morning wrappers, so fresh and crisp, she looked
+lovely, and increased in health and strength every day.
+
+Dr. Philip used to look at her, and his very flesh would creep at the
+thought that, ere long, he must hurl this fair creature into the dust
+of affliction; must, with a word, take the ruby from her lips, the rose
+from her cheeks, the sparkle from her glorious eyes--eyes that beamed
+on him with sweet affection, and a mouth that never opened, but to show
+some simplicity of mind, or some pretty burst of the sensitive heart.
+
+He put off, and put off, and at last cowardice began to whisper, “Why
+tell her the whole truth at all? Why not take her through stages of
+doubt, alarm, and, after all, leave a grain of hope till her child gets
+so rooted in her heart that”--But conscience and good sense interrupted
+this temporary thought, and made him see to what a horrible life of
+suspense he should condemn a human creature, and live a perpetual lie,
+and be always at the edge of some pitfall or other.
+
+One day, while he sat looking at her, with all these thoughts, and many
+more, coursing through his mind, she looked up at him, and surprised
+him. “Ah!” said she gravely.
+
+“What is the matter, my dear?”
+
+“Oh, nothing,” said she cunningly.
+
+“Uncle, dear,” said she presently, “when do we go to Herne Bay?”
+
+Now, Dr. Philip had given that up. He had got the servants at Kent Villa
+on his side, and he felt safer here than in any strange place: so he
+said, “I don't know: that all depends. There is plenty of time.”
+
+“No, uncle,” said Rosa gravely. “I wish to leave this house. I can
+hardly breathe in it.”
+
+“What! your native air?”
+
+“Mystery is not my native air; and this house is full of mystery. Voices
+whisper at my door, and the people don't come in. The maids cast strange
+looks at me, and hurry away. I scolded that pert girl Jane, and she
+answered me as meek as Moses. I catch you looking at me, with love, and
+something else. What is that something--? It is Pity: that is what it
+is. Do you think, because I am called a simpleton, that I have no eyes,
+nor ears, nor sense? What is this secret which you are all hiding from
+one person, and that is me? Ah! Christopher has not written these five
+weeks. Tell me the truth, for I will know it,” and she started up in
+wild excitement.
+
+Then Dr. Philip saw the hour was come.
+
+He said, “My poor girl, you have read us right. I am anxious about
+Christopher, and all the servants know it.”
+
+“Anxious, and not tell ME; his wife; the woman whose life is bound up in
+his.”
+
+“Was it for us to retard your convalescence, and set you fretting, and
+perhaps destroy your child? Rosa, my darling, think what a treasure
+Heaven has sent you, to love and care for.”
+
+“Yes,” said she, trembling, “Heaven has been good to me; I hope Heaven
+will always be as good to me. I don't deserve it; but then I tell God
+so. I am very grateful, and very penitent. I never forget that, if I
+had been a good wife, my husband--five weeks is a long time. Why do
+you tremble so? Why are you so pale--a strong man like you? CALAMITY!
+CALAMITY!”
+
+Dr. Philip hung his head.
+
+She looked at him, started wildly up, then sank back into her chair. So
+the stricken deer leaps, then falls. Yet even now she put on a deceitful
+calm, and said, “Tell me the truth. I have a right to know.”
+
+He stammered out, “There is a report of an accident at sea.”
+
+She kept silence.
+
+“Of a passenger drowned--out of that ship. This, coupled with his
+silence, fills our hearts with fear.”
+
+“It is worse--you are breaking it to me--you have gone too far to stop.
+One word: is he alive? Oh, say he is alive!”
+
+Philip rang the bell hard, and said in a troubled voice, “Rosa, think of
+your child.”
+
+“Not when my husband--Is he alive or dead?”
+
+“It is hard to say, with such a terrible report about, and no letters,”
+ faltered the old man, his courage failing him.
+
+“What are you afraid of? Do you think I can't die, and go to him? Alive,
+or dead?” and she stood before him, raging and quivering in every limb.
+
+The nurse came in.
+
+“Fetch her child,” he cried; “God have mercy on her.”
+
+“Ah, then he is dead,” said she, with stony calmness. “I drove him to
+sea, and he is dead.”
+
+The nurse rushed in, and held the child to her.
+
+She would not look at it.
+
+“Dead!”
+
+“Yes, our poor Christie is gone--but his child is here--the image of
+him. Do not forget the mother. Have pity on his child and yours.”
+
+“Take it out of my sight!” she screamed. “Away with it, or I shall
+murder it, as I have murdered its father. My dear Christie, before all
+that live! I have killed him. I shall die for him. I shall go to him.”
+ She raved and tore her hair. Servants rushed in. Rosa was carried to her
+bed, screaming and raving, and her black hair all down on both sides, a
+piteous sight.
+
+Swoon followed swoon, and that very night brain fever set in with all
+its sad accompaniments; a poor bereaved creature, tossing and moaning;
+pale, anxious, but resolute faces of the nurse and the kitchen-maid
+watching: on one table a pail of ice, and on another the long, thick
+raven hair of our poor Simpleton, lying on clean silver paper. Dr.
+Philip had cut it all off with his own hand, and he was now folding it
+up, and crying over it; for he thought to himself, “Perhaps in a few
+days more only this will be left of her on earth.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+Staines fell head-foremost into the sea with a heavy plunge. Being an
+excellent swimmer, he struck out the moment he touched the water, and
+that arrested his dive, and brought him up with a slant, shocked and
+panting, drenched and confused. The next moment he saw, as through a
+fog--his eyes being full of water--something fall from the ship. He
+breasted the big waves, and swam towards it: it rose on the top of a
+wave, and he saw it was a life-buoy. Encumbered with wet clothes, he
+seemed impotent in the big waves; they threw him up so high, and down so
+low.
+
+Almost exhausted, he got to the life-buoy, and clutched it with a fierce
+grasp and a wild cry of delight. He got it over his head, and, placing
+his arms round the buoyant circle, stood with his breast and head out of
+water, gasping.
+
+He now drew a long breath, and got his wet hair out of his eyes, already
+smarting with salt water, and, raising himself on the buoy, looked out
+for help.
+
+He saw, to his great concern, the ship already at a distance. She seemed
+to have flown, and she was still drifting fast away from him.
+
+He saw no signs of help. His heart began to turn as cold as his drenched
+body. A horrible fear crossed him.
+
+But presently he saw the weather-boat filled, and fall into the water;
+and then a wave rolled between him and the ship, and he only saw her
+topmast.
+
+The next time he rose on a mighty wave he saw the boats together astern
+of the vessel, but not coming his way; and the gloom was thickening, the
+ship becoming indistinct, and all was doubt and horror.
+
+A life of agony passed in a few minutes.
+
+He rose and fell like a cork on the buoyant waves--rose and fell, and
+saw nothing but the ship's lights, now terribly distant.
+
+But at last, as he rose and fell, he caught a few fitful glimpses of a
+smaller light rising and falling like himself. “A boat!” he cried, and
+raising himself as high as he could, shouted, cried, implored for help.
+He stretched his hands across the water. “This way! this way!”
+
+The light kept moving, but it came no nearer. They had greatly
+underrated the drift. The other boat had no light.
+
+Minutes passed of suspense, hope, doubt, dismay, terror. Those minutes
+seemed hours.
+
+In the agony of suspense the quaking heart sent beads of sweat to the
+brow, though the body was immersed.
+
+And the gloom deepened, and the cold waves flung him up to heaven with
+their giant arms, and then down again to hell: and still that light, his
+only hope, was several hundred yards from him.
+
+Only for a moment at a time could his eyeballs, straining with agony,
+catch this will-o'-the-wisp, the boat's light. It groped the sea up and
+down, but came no near.
+
+When what seemed days of agony had passed, suddenly a rocket rose in the
+horizon--so it seemed to him.
+
+The lost man gave a shriek of joy; so prone are we to interpret things
+hopefully.
+
+Misery! The next time he saw that little light, that solitary spark of
+hope, it was not quite so near as before. A mortal sickness fell on his
+heart. The ship had recalled the boats by rocket.
+
+He shrieked, he cried, he screamed, he raved. “Oh, Rosa! Rosa! for her
+sake, men, men, do not leave me. I am here! here!”
+
+In vain. The miserable man saw the boat's little light retire, recede,
+and melt into the ship's larger light, and that light glided away.
+
+Then, a cold, deadly stupor fell on him. Then, death's icy claw seized
+his heart, and seemed to run from it to every part of him. He was a dead
+man. Only a question of time. Nothing to gain by floating.
+
+But the despairing mind could not quit the world in peace, and even here
+in the cold, cruel sea, the quivering body clung to this fragment of
+life, and winced at death's touch, though more merciful.
+
+He despised this weakness; he raged at it; he could not overcome it.
+
+Unable to live or to die, condemned to float slowly, hour by hour, down
+into death's jaws.
+
+To a long, death-like stupor succeeded frenzy. Fury seized this great
+and long-suffering mind. It rose against the cruelty and injustice of
+his fate. He cursed the world, whose stupidity had driven him to sea,
+he cursed remorseless nature; and at last he railed on the God who made
+him, and made the cruel water, that was waiting for his body. “God's
+justice! God's mercy! God's power! they are all lies,” he shouted,
+“dreams, chimeras, like Him the all-powerful and good, men babble of by
+the fire. If there was a God more powerful than the sea, and only
+half as good as men are, he would pity my poor Rosa and me, and send
+a hurricane to drive those caitiffs back to the wretch they have
+abandoned. Nature alone is mighty. Oh, if I could have her on my side,
+and only God against me! But she is as deaf to prayer as He is: as
+mechanical and remorseless. I am a bubble melting into the sea. Soul
+I have none; my body will soon be nothing, nothing. So ends an honest,
+loving life. I always tried to love my fellow-creatures. Curse them!
+curse them! Curse the earth! Curse the sea! Curse all nature: there is
+no other God for me to curse.”
+
+The moon came out.
+
+He raised his head and staring eyeballs, and cursed her.
+
+The wind began to whistle, and flung spray in his face.
+
+He raised his fallen head and staring eyeballs, and cursed the wind.
+
+While he was thus raving, he became sensible of a black object to
+windward.
+
+It looked like a rail, and a man leaning on it.
+
+He stared, he cleared the wet hair from his eyes, and stared again.
+
+The thing, being larger than himself and partly out of water, was
+drifting to leeward faster than himself.
+
+He stared and trembled, and at last it came nearly abreast, black,
+black.
+
+He gave a loud cry, and tried to swim towards it; but encumbered with
+his life-buoy, he made little progress. The thing drifted abreast of
+him, but ten yards distant.
+
+As they each rose high upon the waves, he saw it plainly.
+
+It was the very raft that had been the innocent cause of his sad fate.
+
+He shouted with hope, he swam, he struggled; he got near it, but not
+to it; it drifted past, and he lost his chance of intercepting it. He
+struggled after it. The life-buoy would not let him catch it.
+
+Then he gave a cry of agony, rage, despair, and flung off the life-buoy,
+and risked all on this one chance.
+
+He gains a little on the raft.
+
+He loses.
+
+He gains: he cries, “Rosa! Rosa!” and struggles with all his soul, as
+well as his body: he gains.
+
+But when almost within reach, a wave half drowns him, and he loses.
+
+He cries, “Rosa! Rosa!” and swims high and strong. “Rosa! Rosa! Rosa!”
+
+He is near it. He cries, “Rosa! Rosa!” and with all the energy of love
+and life flings himself almost out of the water, and catches hold of the
+nearest thing on the raft.
+
+It was the dead man's leg.
+
+It seemed as if it would come away in his grasp. He dared not try to
+pull himself up by that. But he held on by it, panting, exhausting,
+faint.
+
+This faintness terrified him. “Oh,” thought he, “if I faint now, all is
+over.”
+
+Holding by that terrible and strange support, he made a grasp, and
+caught hold of the woodwork at the bottom of the rail. He tried to draw
+himself up. Impossible.
+
+He was no better off than with his life-buoy.
+
+But in situations so dreadful, men think fast; he worked gradually
+round the bottom of the raft by his hands, till he got to leeward, still
+holding on. There he found a solid block of wood at the edge of the
+raft. He prised himself carefully up; the raft in that part then sank a
+little: he got his knee upon the timber of the raft, and with a wild
+cry seized the nearest upright, and threw both arms round it and clung
+tight. Then first he found breath to speak. “THANK GOD!” he cried,
+kneeling on the timber, and grasping the upright post--“OH, THANK GOD!
+THANK GOD!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+“Thank God!” why, according to his theory, it should have been “Thank
+Nature.” But I observe that, in such cases, even philosophers are
+ungrateful to the mistress they worship.
+
+Our philosopher not only thanked God, but being on his knees, prayed
+forgiveness for his late ravings, prayed hard, with one arm curled round
+the upright, lest the sea, which ever and anon rushed over the bottom of
+the raft, should swallow him up in a moment.
+
+Then he rose carefully, and wedged himself into the corner of the raft
+opposite to that other figure, ominous relic of the wild voyage the
+new-comer had entered upon; he put both arms over the rail, and stood
+erect.
+
+The moon was now up; but so was the breeze: fleecy clouds flew with
+vast rapidity across her bright face, and it was by fitful though vivid
+glances Staines examined the raft and his companion.
+
+The raft was large, and well made of timbers tied and nailed together,
+and a strong rail ran round it resting on several uprights. There were
+also some blocks of a very light wood screwed to the horizontal timbers,
+and these made it float high.
+
+But what arrested and fascinated the man's gaze was his dead companion,
+sole survivor, doubtless, of a horrible voyage, since the raft was not
+made for one, nor by one.
+
+It was a skeleton, or nearly, whose clothes the seabirds had torn, and
+pecked every limb in all the fleshy parts; the rest of the body had
+dried to dark leather on the bones. The head was little more than an
+eyeless skull; but in the fitful moonlight, those huge hollow
+caverns seemed gigantic lamp-like eyes, and glared at him fiendishly,
+appallingly.
+
+He sickened at the sight. He tried not to look at it; but it would be
+looked at, and threaten him in the moonlight, with great lack-lustre
+eyes.
+
+The wind whistled, and lashed his face with spray torn off the big
+waves, and the water was nearly up to his knees, and the raft tossed
+so wildly, it was all he could do to hold on in his corner: in which
+struggle, still those monstrous lack-lustre eyes, like lamps of death,
+glared at him in the moon; all else was dark, except the fiery crests of
+the black mountain-billows, tumbling and raging all around.
+
+What a night!
+
+But, before morning, the breeze sank, the moon set, and a sombre quiet
+succeeded, with only that grim figure in outline dimly visible. Owing to
+the motion still retained by the waves, it seemed to nod and rear, and
+be ever preparing to rush upon him.
+
+The sun rose glorious, on a lovely scene; the sky was a very mosaic of
+colors sweet and vivid, and the tranquil, rippling sea, peach-colored to
+the horizon, with lines of diamonds where the myriad ripples broke into
+smiles.
+
+Staines was asleep, exhausted. Soon the light awoke him, and he looked
+up. What an incongruous picture met his eye: that heaven of color
+all above and around, and right before him, like a devil stuck in
+mid-heaven, that grinning corpse, whose fate foreshadowed his own.
+
+But daylight is a great strengthener of the nerves; the figure no longer
+appalled him--a man who had long learned to look with Science's calm
+eye upon the dead. When the sea became like glass, and from peach-color
+deepened to rose, he walked along the raft, and inspected the dead man.
+He found it was a man of color, but not a black. The body was not kept
+in its place, as he had supposed, merely by being jammed into the angle
+caused by the rail; it was also lashed to the corner upright by a long,
+stout belt. Staines concluded this had kept the body there, and its
+companions had been swept away.
+
+This was not lost on him: he removed the belt for his own use: he then
+found it was not only a belt, but a receptacle; it was nearly full of
+small, hard substances that felt like stones.
+
+When he had taken it off the body, he felt a compunction. “Ought he to
+rob the dead, and expose it to be swept into the sea at the first wave,
+like a dead dog?”
+
+He was about to replace the belt, when a middle course occurred to him.
+He was a man who always carried certain useful little things about him,
+viz., needles, thread, scissors, and string. He took a piece of string,
+and easily secured this poor light skeleton to the raft. The belt he
+strapped to the rail, and kept for his own need.
+
+And now hunger gnawed him. No food was near. There was nothing but the
+lovely sea and sky, mosaic with color, and that grim, ominous skeleton.
+
+Hunger comes and goes many times before it becomes insupportable. All
+that day and night, and the next day, he suffered its pangs; and then it
+became torture, but the thirst maddening.
+
+Towards night fell a gentle rain. He spread a handkerchief and caught
+it. He sucked the handkerchief.
+
+This revived him, and even allayed in some degree the pangs of hunger.
+
+Next day was cloudless. A hot sun glared on his unprotected head, and
+battered down his enfeebled frame.
+
+He resisted as well as he could. He often dipped his head, and as often
+the persistent sun, with cruel glare, made it smoke again.
+
+Next day the same: but the strength to meet it was waning. He lay down
+and thought of Rosa, and wept bitterly. He took the dead man's belt, and
+lashed himself to the upright. That act, and his tears for his beloved,
+were almost his last acts of perfect reason: for next day came the
+delusions and the dreams that succeed when hunger ceases to torture,
+and the vital powers begin to ebb. He lay and saw pleasant meadows with
+meandering streams, and clusters of rich fruit that courted the hand and
+melted in the mouth.
+
+Ever and anon they vanished, and he saw grim death looking down on him
+with those big cavernous eyes.
+
+By and by, whether his body's eye saw the grim skeleton, or his mind's
+eye the juicy fruits, green meadows, and pearly brooks, all was shadowy.
+
+So, in a placid calm, beneath a blue sky, the raft drifted dead, with
+its dead freight, upon the glassy purple, and he drifted, too, towards
+the world unknown.
+
+There came across the waters to that dismal raft a thing none too
+common, by sea or land--a good man.
+
+He was tall, stalwart, bronzed, and had hair like snow, before his time,
+for he had known trouble. He commanded a merchant steamer, bound for
+Calcutta, on the old route.
+
+The man at the mast-head descried a floating wreck, and hailed the
+deck accordingly. The captain altered his course without one moment's
+hesitation, and brought up alongside, lowered a boat, and brought the
+dead, and the breathing man, on board.
+
+A young middy lifted Staines in his arms from the wreck to the boat; he
+whose person I described in chapter one weighed now no more than that.
+
+Men are not always rougher than women. Their strength and nerve enable
+them now and then to be gentler than buttery-fingered angels, who drop
+frail things through sensitive agitation, and break them. These rough
+men saw Staines was hovering between life and death, and they handled
+him like a thing the ebbing life might be shaken out of in a moment. It
+was pretty to see how gingerly the sailors carried the sinking man up
+the ladder, and one fetched swabs, and the others laid him down softly
+on them at their captain's feet.
+
+“Well done, men,” said he. “Poor fellow! Pray Heaven, we may not have
+come too late. Now stand aloof a bit. Send the surgeon aft.”
+
+The surgeon came, and looked, and felt the heart. He shook his head, and
+called for brandy. He had Staines's head raised, and got half a spoonful
+of diluted brandy down his throat. But there was an ominous gurgling.
+
+After several such attempts at intervals, he said plainly the man's life
+could not be saved by ordinary means.
+
+“Then try extraordinary,” said the captain. “My orders are that he is to
+be saved. There is life in him. You have only got to keep it there. He
+MUST be saved; he SHALL be saved.”
+
+“I should like to try Dr. Staines's remedy,” said the surgeon.
+
+“Try it, then what is it?”
+
+“A bath of beef-tea. Dr. Staines says he applied it to a starved
+child--in the Lancet.”
+
+“Take a hundred-weight of beef, and boil it in the coppers.”
+
+Thus encouraged, the surgeon went to the cook, and very soon beef was
+steaming on a scale and at a rate unparalleled.
+
+Meantime, Captain Dodd had the patient taken to his own cabin, and he
+and his servant administered weak brandy and water with great caution
+and skill.
+
+There was no perceptible result. But at all events there was life and
+vital instinct left, or he could not have swallowed.
+
+Thus they hovered about him for some hours, and then the bath was ready.
+
+The captain took charge of the patient's clothes: the surgeon and a
+sailor bathed him in lukewarm beef-tea, and then covered him very warm
+with blankets next the skin. Guess how near a thing it seemed to them,
+when I tell you they dared not rub him.
+
+Just before sunset his pulse became perceptible. The surgeon
+administered half a spoonful of egg-flip. The patient swallowed it.
+
+By and by he sighed.
+
+“He must not be left, day or night,” said the captain. “I don't know who
+or what he is, but he is a man; and I could not bear him to die now.”
+
+That night Captain Dodd overhauled the patient's clothes, and looked for
+marks on his linen. There were none.
+
+“Poor devil” said Captain Dodd. “He is a bachelor.”
+
+Captain Dodd found his pocket-book, with bank-notes, two hundred pounds.
+He took the numbers, made a memorandum of them, and locked the notes up.
+
+He lighted his lamp, examined the belt, unripped it, and poured out the
+contents on his table.
+
+They were dazzling. A great many large pieces of amethyst, and some
+of white topaz and rock crystal; a large number of smaller stones,
+carbuncles, chrysolites, and not a few emeralds. Dodd looked at them
+with pleasure, sparkling in the lamplight.
+
+“What a lot!” said he. “I wonder what they are worth!” He sent for the
+first mate, who, he knew, did a little private business in precious
+stones. “Masterton,” said he, “oblige me by counting these stones with
+me, and valuing them.”
+
+Mr. Masterton stared, and his mouth watered. However, he named the
+various stones and valued them. He said there was one stone, a large
+emerald, without a flaw, that was worth a heavy sum by itself; and the
+pearls, very fine: and looking at the great number, they must be worth a
+thousand pounds.
+
+Captain Dodd then entered the whole business carefully in the ship's
+log: the living man he described thus: “About five feet six in height,
+and about fifty years of age.” Then he described the notes and the
+stones very exactly, and made Masterton, the valuer, sign the log.
+
+Staines took a good deal of egg-flip that night, and next day ate
+solid food; but they questioned him in vain; his reason was entirely in
+abeyance: he had become an eater, and nothing else. Whenever they gave
+him food, he showed a sort of fawning animal gratitude. Other sentiment
+he had none, nor did words enter his mind any more than a bird's. And
+since it is not pleasant to dwell on the wreck of a fine understanding,
+I will only say that they landed him at Cape Town, out of bodily danger,
+but weak, and his mind, to all appearance, a hopeless blank.
+
+They buried the skeleton,--read the service of the English Church over a
+Malabar heathen.
+
+Dodd took Staines to the hospital, and left twenty pounds with the
+governor of it to cure him. But he deposited Staines's money and jewels
+with a friendly banker, and begged that the principal cashier might see
+the man, and be able to recognize him, should he apply for his own.
+
+The cashier came and examined him, and also the ruby ring on his
+finger--a parting gift from Rosa--and remarked this was a new way of
+doing business.
+
+“Why, it is the only one, sir,” said Dodd. “How can we give you his
+signature? He is not in his right mind.”
+
+“Nor never will be.”
+
+“Don't say that, sir. Let us hope for the best, poor fellow.”
+
+Having made these provisions, the worthy captain weighed anchor, with a
+warm heart and a good conscience. Yet the image of the man he had saved
+pursued him, and he resolved to look after him next time he should coal
+at Cape Town, homeward bound.
+
+Staines recovered his strength in about two months; but his mind
+returned in fragments, and very slowly. For a long, long time he
+remembered nothing that had preceded his great calamity. His mind
+started afresh, aided only by certain fixed habits; for instance, he
+could read and write: but, strange as it may appear, he had no idea who
+he was; and when his memory cleared a little on that head, he thought
+his surname was Christie, but he was not sure.
+
+Nevertheless, the presiding physician discovered in him a certain
+progress of intelligence, which gave him great hopes. In the fifth
+month, having shown a marked interest in the other sick patients,
+coupled with a disposition to be careful and attentive, they made him a
+nurse, or rather a sub-nurse under the special orders of a responsible
+nurse. I really believe it was done at first to avoid the alternative
+of sending him adrift, or transferring him to the insane ward of the
+hospital. In this congenial pursuit he showed such watchfulness and
+skill, that by and by they found they had got a treasure. Two months
+after that he began to talk about medicine, and astonished them still
+more. He became the puzzle of the establishment. The doctor and surgeon
+would converse with him, and try and lead him to his past life; but when
+it came to that, he used to put his hands to his head with a face of
+great distress, and it was clear some impassable barrier lay between
+his growing intelligence and the past events of his life. Indeed, on
+one occasion, he said to his kind friend the doctor, “The past!--a black
+wall! a black wall!”
+
+Ten months after his admission he was promoted to be an attendant, with
+a salary.
+
+He put by every shilling of it; for he said, “A voice from the dark past
+tells me money is everything in this world.”
+
+A discussion was held by the authorities as to whether he should be
+informed he had money and jewels at the bank or not.
+
+Upon the whole, it was thought advisable to postpone this information,
+lest he should throw it away; but they told him he had been picked up
+at sea, and both money and jewels found on him; they were in safe hands,
+only the person was away for the time. Still, he was not to look upon
+himself as either friendless or moneyless.
+
+At this communication he showed an almost childish delight, that
+confirmed the doctor in his opinion he was acting prudently, and for the
+real benefit of an amiable and afflicted person, not yet to be trusted
+with money and jewels.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+In his quality of attendant on the sick, Staines sometimes conducted
+a weak but convalescent patient into the open air; and he was always
+pleased to do this, for the air of the Cape carries health and vigor on
+its wings. He had seen its fine recreative properties, and he divined,
+somehow, that the minds of convalescents ought to be amused, and so he
+often begged the doctor to let him take a convalescent abroad. Sooner
+than not, he would draw the patient several miles in a Bath chair. He
+rather liked this; for he was a Hercules, and had no egotism or false
+pride where the sick were concerned.
+
+Now, these open-air walks exerted a beneficial influence on his own
+darkened mind. It is one thing to struggle from idea to idea; it is
+another when material objects mingle with the retrospect; they seem
+to supply stepping-stones in the gradual resuscitation of memory and
+reason.
+
+The ships going out of port were such a steppingstone to him, and a
+vague consciousness came back to him of having been in a ship.
+
+Unfortunately, along with this reminiscence came a desire to go in one
+again; and this sowed discontent in his mind, and the more that mind
+enlarged, the more he began to dislike the hospital and its confinement.
+The feeling grew, and bade fair to disqualify him for his humble office.
+The authorities could not fail to hear of this, and they had a little
+discussion about parting with him; but they hesitated to turn him
+adrift, and they still doubted the propriety of trusting him with money
+and jewels.
+
+While matters were in this state a remarkable event occurred. He drew a
+sick patient down to the quay one morning, and watched the business of
+the port with the keenest interest. A ship at anchor was unloading,
+and a great heavy boat was sticking to her side like a black leech.
+Presently this boat came away, and moved sluggishly towards the shore,
+rather by help of the tide than of the two men who went through the form
+of propelling her with two monstrous sweeps, while a third steered her.
+She contained English goods: agricultural implements, some cases, four
+horses, and a buxom young woman with a thorough English face. The woman
+seemed a little excited, and as she neared the landing-place, she called
+out in jocund tones to a young man on the shore, “It is all right, Dick;
+they are beauties,” and she patted the beasts as people do who are fond
+of them.
+
+She stepped lightly ashore, and then came the slower work of landing her
+imports. She bustled about, like a hen over her brood, and wasn't always
+talking, but put in her word every now and then, never crossly, and
+always to the point.
+
+Staines listened to her, and examined her with a sort of puzzled look;
+but she took no notice of him; her whole soul was in the cattle.
+
+They got the things on board well enough; but the horses were frightened
+at the gangway, and jibbed. Then a man was for driving them, and poked
+one of them in the quarter; he snorted and reared directly.
+
+“Man alive!” cried the young woman, “that is not the way. They are
+docile enough, but frightened. Encourage 'em, and let 'em look at it.
+Give 'em time. More haste less speed, with timorous cattle.”
+
+“That is a very pleasant voice,” said poor Staines, rather more
+dictatorially than became the present state of his intellect. He added
+softly, “a true woman's voice;” then gloomily, “a voice of the past--the
+dark, dark past.”
+
+At this speech intruding itself upon the short sentences of business,
+there was a roar of laughter, and Phoebe Falcon turned sharply round to
+look at the speaker. She stared at him; she cried “Oh!” and clasped her
+hands, and colored all over. “Why, sure,” said she, “I can't be mistook.
+Those eyes--'tis you, doctor, isn't it?”
+
+“Doctor?” said Staines, with a puzzled look. “Yes; I think they called
+me doctor once. I'm an attendant in the hospital now.”
+
+“Dick!” cried Phoebe, in no little agitation. “Come here this minute.”
+
+“What, afore I get the horses ashore?”
+
+“Ay, before you do another thing, or say another word. Come here, now.”
+ So he came, and she told him to take a good look at the man. “Now,” said
+she, “who is that?”
+
+“Blest if I know,” said he.
+
+“What, not know the man who saved your own life! Oh, Dick, what are your
+eyes worth?”
+
+This discourse brought the few persons within hearing into one band of
+excited starers.
+
+Dick took a good look, and said, “I'm blest if I don't, though; it is
+the doctor that cut my throat.”
+
+This strange statement drew forth quite a shout of ejaculations.
+
+“Oh, better breathe through a slit than not at all,” said Dick. “Saved
+my life with that cut, he did, didn't he, Pheeb?”
+
+“That he did, Dick. Dear heart, I hardly know whether I am in my senses
+or not, seeing him a-looking so blank. You try him.”
+
+Dick came forward. “Sure you remember me, sir. Dick Dale. You cut my
+throat, and saved my life.”
+
+“Cut your throat! why, that would kill you.”
+
+“Not the way you done it. Well, sir, you ain't the man you was, that is
+clear; but you was a good friend to me, and there's my hand.”
+
+“Thank you, Dick,” said Staines, and took his hand. “I don't remember
+YOU. Perhaps you are one of the past. The past is dead wall to me--a
+dark dead wall,” and he put his hands to his head with a look of
+distress.
+
+Everybody there now suspected the truth, and some pointed mysteriously
+to their own heads.
+
+Phoebe whispered an inquiry to the sick person.
+
+He said a little pettishly, “All I know is, he is the kindest attendant
+in the ward, and very attentive.”
+
+“Oh, then, he is in the public hospital.”
+
+“Of course he is.”
+
+The invalid, with the selfishness of his class, then begged Staines to
+take him out of all this bustle down to the beach. Staines complied at
+once, with the utmost meekness, and said, “Good-by, old friends; forgive
+me for not remembering you. It is my great affliction that the past
+is gone from me--gone, gone.” And he went sadly away, drawing his sick
+charge like a patient mule.
+
+Phoebe Falcon looked after him, and began to cry.
+
+“Nay, nay, Phoebe,” said Dick; “don't ye take on about it.”
+
+“I wonder at you,” sobbed Phoebe. “Good people, I'm fonder of my brother
+than he is of himself, it seems; for I can't take it so easy. Well, the
+world is full of trouble. Let us do what we are here for. But I shall
+pray for the poor soul every night, that his mind may be given back to
+him.”
+
+So then she bustled, and gave herself to getting the cattle on shore,
+and the things put on board her wagon.
+
+But when this was done, she said to her brother, “Dick, I did not think
+anything on earth could take my heart off the cattle and the things we
+have got from home; but I can't leave this without going to the hospital
+about our poor dear doctor: and it is late for making a start, any
+way--and you mustn't forget the newspapers for Reginald--he is so fond
+of them--and you must contrive to have one sent out regular after this,
+and I'll go to the hospital.”
+
+She went, and saw the head doctor, and told him he had got an attendant
+there she had known in England in a very different condition, and she
+had come to see if there was anything she could do for him--for she felt
+very grateful to him, and grieved to see him so.
+
+The doctor was pleased and surprised, and put several questions.
+
+Then she gave him a clear statement of what he had done for Dick in
+England.
+
+“Well,” said the doctor, “I believe it is the same man; for, now you
+tell me this--yes, one of the nurses told me he knew more about medicine
+than she did. His name, if you please.”
+
+“His name, sir?”
+
+“Yes, his name. Of course you know his name. Is it Christie?”
+
+“Doctor,” said Phoebe, blushing, “I don't know what you will think of
+me, but I don't know his name. Laws forgive me, I never had the sense to
+ask it.”
+
+A shade of suspicion crossed the doctor's face.
+
+Phoebe saw it, and colored to the temples. “Oh, sir,” she cried
+piteously, “don't go for to think I have told you a lie! why should I?
+and indeed I am not of that sort, nor Dick neither. Sir, I'll bring
+him to you, and he will say the same. Well, we were all in terror and
+confusion, and I met him accidentally in the street. He was only a
+customer till then, and paid ready money, so that is how I never knew
+his name, but if I hadn't been the greatest fool in England, I should
+have asked his wife.”
+
+“What! he has a wife?”
+
+“Ay, sir, the loveliest lady you ever clapped eyes on, and he is almost
+as handsome; has eyes in his head like jewels; 'twas by them I knew him
+on the quay, and I think he knew my voice again, said as good as he had
+heard it in past times.”
+
+“Did he? Then we have got him,” cried the doctor energetically.
+
+“La, Sir.”
+
+“Yes; if he knows your voice, you will be able in time to lead his
+memory back; at least, I think so. Do you live in Cape Town?”
+
+“Dear heart, no. I live at my own farm, a hundred and eighty miles from
+this.”
+
+“What a pity!”
+
+“Why, sir?”
+
+“Well--hum!”
+
+“Oh, if you think I could do the poor doctor good by having him with
+me, you have only to say the word, and out he goes with Dick and me
+to-morrow morning. We should have started for home to-night, but for
+this.”
+
+“Are you in earnest, madam?” said the doctor, opening his eyes. “Would
+you really encumber yourself with a person whose reason is in suspense,
+and may never return?”
+
+“But that is not his fault, sir. Why, if a dog had saved my brother's
+life, I'd take it home, and keep it all its days; and this is a man, and
+a worthy man. Oh, sir, when I saw him brought down so, and his beautiful
+eyes clouded like, my very bosom yearned over the poor soul; a kind act
+done in dear old England, who can see the man in trouble here, and
+not repay it--ay, if it cost one's blood. But indeed he is strong and
+healthy, and hands are always scarce our way, and the odds are he will
+earn his meat one way or t'other; and if he doesn't, why, all the better
+for me; I shall have the pleasure of serving him for nought that once
+served me for neither money nor reward.”
+
+“You are a good woman,” said the doctor warmly.
+
+“There's better, and there's worse,” said Phoebe quietly, and even a
+little coldly.
+
+“More of the latter,” said the doctor dryly. “Well, Mrs.--?”
+
+“Falcon, sir.”
+
+“We shall hand him over to your care: but first--just for form--if
+you are a married woman, we should like to see Dick here: he is your
+husband, I presume.”
+
+Ploebe laughed merrily. “Dick is my brother; and he can't be spared to
+come here. Dick! he'd say black was white if I told him to.”
+
+“Then let us see your husband about it--just for form.”
+
+“My husband is at the farm. I could not venture so far away, and not
+leave him in charge.” If she had said, “I will not bring him into
+temptation,” that would have been nearer the truth. “Let that fly stick
+on the wall, sir. What I do, my husband will approve.”
+
+“I see how it is. You rule the roost.”
+
+Phoebe did not reply point-blank to that; she merely said, “All my
+chickens are happy, great and small,” and an expression of lofty,
+womanly, innocent pride illuminated her face and made it superb for a
+moment.
+
+In short, it was settled that Staines should accompany her next morning
+to Dale's Kloof Farm, if he chose. On inquiry, it appeared that he had
+just returned to the hospital with his patient. He was sent for, and
+Phoebe asked him sweetly if he would go with her to her house, one
+hundred and eighty miles away, and she would be kind to him.
+
+“On the water?”
+
+“Nay, by land; but 'tis a fine country, and you will see beautiful deer
+and things running across the plains, and”--
+
+“Shall I find the past again, the past again?”
+
+“Ay, poor soul, that we shall, God willing. You and I, we will hunt it
+together.”
+
+He looked at her, and gave her his hand. “I will go with you. Your face
+belongs to the past, so does your voice.”
+
+He then inquired, rather abruptly, had she any children. She smiled.
+
+“Ay, that I have, the loveliest little boy you ever saw. When you are as
+you used to be, you will be his doctor, won't you?”
+
+“Yes, I will nurse him, and you will help me find the past.”
+
+Phoebe then begged Staines to be ready to start at six in the morning.
+She and Dick would take him up on their way.
+
+While she was talking to him the doctor slipped out, and to tell the
+truth he went to consult with another authority, whether he should take
+this opportunity of telling Staines that he had money and jewels at the
+bank: he himself was half inclined to do so; but the other, who had not
+seen Phoebe's face, advised him to do nothing of the kind. “They are
+always short of money, these colonial farmers,” said he; “she would get
+every shilling out of him.”
+
+“Most would; but this is such an honest face.”
+
+“Well, but she is a mother, you say.”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Well, what mother could be just to a lunatic, with her own sweet angel
+babes to provide for?”
+
+“That is true,” said Dr. ----. “Maternal love is apt to modify the
+conscience.”
+
+“What I would do,--I would take her address, and make her promise to
+write if he gets well, and if he does get well then write to HIM, and
+tell him all about it.”
+
+Dr. ---- acted on this shrewd advice, and ordered a bundle to be made up
+for the traveller out of the hospital stores: it contained a nice light
+summer suit and two changes of linen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+Next morning, Staines and Dick Dale walked through the streets of Cape
+Town side by side. Dick felt the uneasiness of a sane man, not familiar
+with the mentally afflicted, who suddenly finds himself alone with one.
+Insanity turns men oftenest into sheep and hares; but it does now and
+then make them wolves and tigers; and that has saddled the insane in
+general with a character for ferocity. Young Dale, then, cast many a
+suspicious glance at his comrade, as he took him along. These glances
+were reassuring: Christopher's face had no longer the mobility, the
+expressive changes, that mark the superior mind; his countenance was
+monotonous: but the one expression was engaging; there was a sweet,
+patient, lamb-like look: the glorious eye a little troubled and
+perplexed, but wonderfully mild. Dick Dale looked and looked, and his
+uneasiness vanished. And the more he looked, the more did a certain
+wonder creep over him, and make him scarce believe the thing he knew;
+viz., that a learned doctor had saved him from the jaws of death by rare
+knowledge, sagacity, courage, and skill combined: and that mighty man of
+wisdom was brought down to this lamb, and would go north, south, east,
+or west, with sweet and perfect submission, even as he, Dick Dale,
+should appoint. With these reflections honest Dick felt his eyes get a
+little misty, and, to use those words of Scripture, which nothing can
+surpass or equal, his bowels yearned over the man.
+
+As for Christopher, he looked straight forward, and said not a word till
+they cleared the town; but when he saw the vast flowery vale, and the
+far-off violet hills, like Scotland glorified, he turned to Dick with
+an ineffable expression of sweetness and good fellowship, and said, “Oh,
+beautiful! We'll hunt the past together.”
+
+“We--will--SO,” said Dick, with a sturdy and indeed almost a stern
+resolution.
+
+Now, this he said, not that he cared for the past, nor intended to waste
+the present by going upon its predecessor's trail; but he had come to a
+resolution--full three minutes ago--to humor his companion to the top
+of his bent, and say “Yes” with hypocritical vigor to everything not
+directly and immediately destructive to him and his.
+
+The next moment they turned a corner and came upon the rest of their
+party, hitherto hidden by the apricot hedge and a turning in the road.
+A blue-black Kafir, with two yellow Hottentot drivers, man and boy, was
+harnessing, in the most primitive mode, four horses on to the six oxen
+attached to the wagon; and the horses were flattening their ears,
+and otherwise resenting the incongruity. Meantime a fourth figure, a
+colossal young Kafir woman, looked on superior with folded arms, like a
+sable Juno looking down with that absolute composure upon the struggles
+of man and other animals, which Lucretius and his master Epicurus
+assigned to the Divine nature. Without jesting, the grandeur, majesty,
+and repose of this figure were unsurpassable in nature, and such as have
+vanished from sculpture two thousand years and more.
+
+Dick Dale joined the group immediately, and soon arranged the matter.
+Meantime, Phoebe descended from the wagon, and welcomed Christopher very
+kindly, and asked him if he would like to sit beside her, or to walk.
+
+He glanced into the wagon; it was covered and curtained, and dark as a
+cupboard. “I think,” said he, timidly, “I shall see more of the past out
+here.”
+
+“So you will, poor soul,” said Phoebe kindly, “and better for your
+health: but you must not go far from the wagon, for I'm a fidget; and
+I have got the care of you now, you know, for want of a better. Come,
+Ucatella; you must ride with me, and help me sort the things; they are
+all higgledy-piggledy.” So those two got into the wagon through the back
+curtains. Then the Kafir driver flourished his kambok, or long whip, in
+the air, and made it crack like a pistol, and the horses reared, and the
+oxen started and slowly bored in between them, for they whinnied, and
+kicked, and spread out like a fan all over the road; but a flick or
+two from the terrible kambok soon sent them bleeding and trembling and
+rubbing shoulders, and the oxen, mildly but persistently goring their
+recalcitrating haunches, the intelligent animals went ahead, and
+revenged themselves by breaking the harness. But that goes for little in
+Cape travel.
+
+The body of the wagon was long and low and very stout. The tilt strong
+and tight-made. The roof inside, and most of the sides, lined with green
+baize. Curtains of the same to the little window and the back. There
+was a sort of hold literally built full of purchases; a small fireproof
+safe; huge blocks of salt; saws, axes, pickaxes, adzes, flails, tools
+innumerable, bales of wool and linen stuff, hams, and two hundred empty
+sacks strewn over all. In large pigeon-holes fixed to the sides were
+light goods, groceries, collars, glaring cotton handkerchiefs for
+Phoebe's aboriginal domestics, since not every year did she go to Cape
+Town, a twenty days' journey by wagon: things dangled from the very
+roof; but no hard goods there, if you please, to batter one's head in a
+spill. Outside were latticed grooves with tent, tent-poles, and rifles.
+Great pieces of cork, and bags of hay and corn, hung dangling from
+mighty hooks--the latter to feed the cattle, should they be compelled
+to camp out on some sterile spot on the Veldt, and methinks to act
+as buffers, should the whole concern roll down a nullah or little
+precipice, no very uncommon incident in the blessed region they must
+pass to reach Dale's Kloof.
+
+Harness mended; fresh start. The Hottentots and Kafir vociferated and
+yelled, and made the unearthly row of a dozen wild beasts wrangling: the
+horses drew the bullocks, they the wagon; it crawled and creaked, and
+its appendages wobbled finely.
+
+Slowly they creaked and wobbled past apricot hedges and detached houses
+and huts, and got into an open country without a tree, but here and
+there a stunted camel-thorn. The soil was arid, and grew little food
+for man or beast; yet, by a singular freak of nature, it put forth
+abundantly things that here at home we find it harder to raise than
+homely grass and oats; the ground was thickly clad with flowers of
+delightful hues; pyramids of snow or rose-color bordered the track;
+yellow and crimson stars bejewelled the ground, and a thousand bulbous
+plants burst into all imaginable colors, and spread a rainbow carpet
+to the foot of the violet hills; and all this glowed, and gleamed, and
+glittered in a sun shining with incredible brightness and purity of
+light, but, somehow, without giving a headache or making the air sultry.
+
+Christopher fell to gathering flowers, and interrogating the past by
+means of them; for he had studied botany: the past gave him back some
+pitiably vague ideas. He sighed. “Never mind,” said he to Dick, and
+tapped his forehead: “it is here: it is only locked up.”
+
+“All right,” said Dick; “nothing is lost when you know where 'tis.”
+
+“This is a beautiful country,” suggested Christopher. “It is all
+flowers. It is like the garden of--the garden of--locked up.”
+
+“It is de--light--ful,” replied the self-compelled optimist sturdily.
+But here nature gave way; he was obliged to relieve his agricultural
+bile by getting into the cart and complaining to his sister. “'Twill
+take us all our time to cure him. He have been bepraising this here
+soil, which it is only fit to clean the women's kettles. 'Twouldn't feed
+three larks to an acre, I know; no, NOR HALF SO MANY.”
+
+“Poor soul! mayhap the flowers have took his eye. Sit here a bit, Dick.
+I want to talk to you about a many things.”
+
+While these two were conversing, Ucatella, who was very fond of Phoebe,
+but abhorred wagons, stepped out and stalked by the side, like an
+ostrich, a camelopard, or a Taglioni; nor did the effort with which
+she subdued her stride to the pace of the procession appear: it was
+the poetry of walking. Christopher admired it a moment; but the noble
+expanse tempted him, and he strode forth like a giant, his lungs
+inflating in the glorious air, and soon left the wagon far behind.
+
+The consequence was that when they came to a halt, and Dick and Phoebe
+got out to release and water the cattle, there was Christopher's figure
+retiring into space.
+
+“Hanc rem aegre tulit Phoebe,” as my old friend Livy would say. “Oh
+dear! oh dear! if he strays so far from us, he will be eaten up at
+nightfall by jackals, or lions, or something. One of you must go after
+him.”
+
+“Me go, missy,” said Ucatella zealously, pleased with an excuse for
+stretching her magnificent limbs.
+
+“Ay, but mayhap he will not come back with YOU: will he, Dick?”
+
+“That he will, like a lamb.” Dick wanted to look after the cattle.
+
+“Yuke, my girl,” said Phoebe, “listen. He has been a good friend of ours
+in trouble; and now he is not quite right HERE. So be very kind to him,
+but be sure and bring him back, or keep him till we come.”
+
+“Me bring him back alive, certain sure,” said Ucatella, smiling from ear
+to ear. She started with a sudden glide, like a boat taking the water,
+and appeared almost to saunter away, so easy was the motion; but when
+you looked at the ground she was covering, the stride, or glide, or
+whatever it was, was amazing.
+
+
+“She seem'd in walking to devour the way.”
+
+
+Christopher walked fast, but nothing like this; and as he stopped at
+times to botanize and gaze at the violet hills, and interrogate the
+past, she came up with him about five miles from the halting-place.
+
+She laid her hand quietly on his shoulder, and said, with a broad genial
+smile, and a musical chuckle, “Ucatella come for you. Missy want to
+speak you.”
+
+“Oh! very well;” and he turned back with her, directly; but she took him
+by the hand to make sure; and they marched back peaceably, in silence,
+and hand in hand. But he looked and looked at her, and at last he
+stopped dead short, and said, a little arrogantly, “Come, I know YOU.
+YOU are not locked up;” and he inspected her point-blank. She stood
+like an antique statue, and faced the examination. “You are 'the noble
+savage,'” said he, having concluded his inspection.
+
+“Nay,” said she. “I be the housemaid.”
+
+“The housemaid?”
+
+“Iss, the housemaid, Ucatella. So come on.” And she drew him along, sore
+perplexed.
+
+They met the cavalcade a mile from the halting-place, and Phoebe
+apologized a little to Christopher. “I hope you'll excuse me, sir,” said
+she, “but I am just for all the world like a hen with her chickens; if
+but one strays, I'm all in a flutter till I get him back.”
+
+“Madam,” said Christopher, “I am very unhappy at the way things are
+locked up. Please tell me truly, is this 'the housemaid,' or 'the noble
+savage'?”
+
+“Well, she is both, if you go to that, and the best creature ever
+breathed.”
+
+“Then she IS 'the noble savage'?”
+
+“Ay, so they call her, because she is black.”
+
+“Then, thank Heaven,” said Christopher, “the past is not all locked up.”
+
+That afternoon they stopped at an inn. But Dick slept in the cart.
+At three in the morning they took the road again, and creaked along
+supernaturally loud under a purple firmament studded with huge stars,
+all bright as moons, that lit the way quite clear, and showed black
+things innumerable flitting to and fro; these made Phoebe shudder,
+but were no doubt harmless; still Dick carried his double rifle, and a
+revolver in his belt.
+
+They made a fine march in the cool, until some slight mists gathered,
+and then they halted and breakfasted near a silvery kloof, and watered
+the cattle. While thus employed, suddenly a golden tinge seemed to
+fall like a lash on the vapors of night; they scudded away directly, as
+jackals before the lion; the stars paled, and with one incredible bound,
+the mighty sun leaped into the horizon, and rose into the sky. In a
+moment all the lesser lamps of heaven were out, though late so glorious,
+and there was nothing but one vast vaulted turquoise, and a great
+flaming topaz mounting with eternal ardor to its centre.
+
+This did not escape Christopher. “What is this?” said he. “No twilight.
+The tropics!” He managed to dig that word out of the past in a moment.
+
+At ten o'clock the sun was so hot that they halted, and let the oxen
+loose till sun-down. Then they began to climb the mountains.
+
+The way was steep and rugged; indeed, so rough in places, that the
+cattle had to jump over the holes, and as the wagon could not jump so
+cleverly, it jolted appallingly, and many a scream issued forth.
+
+Near the summit, when the poor beasts were dead beat, they got into
+clouds and storms, and the wind rushed howling at them through the
+narrow pass with such fury it flattened the horses' ears, and bade fair
+to sweep the whole cavalcade to the plains below.
+
+Christopher and Dick walked close behind, under the lee of the wagon.
+Christopher said in Dick's ear, “D'ye hear that? Time to reef topsails,
+captain.”
+
+“It is time to do SOMETHING,” said Dick. He took advantage of a jutting
+rock, drew the wagon half behind it and across the road, propped the
+wheels with stones, and they all huddled to leeward, man and beast
+indiscriminately.
+
+“Ah!” said Christopher, approvingly; “we are lying to: a
+very--proper--course.”
+
+They huddled and shivered three hours, and then the sun leaped into the
+sky, and lo! a transformation scene. The cold clouds were first rosy
+fleeces, then golden ones, then gold-dust, then gone; the rain was
+big diamonds, then crystal sparks, then gone; the rocks and the bushes
+sparkled with gem-like drops, and shone and smiled.
+
+The shivering party bustled, and toasted the potent luminary in hot
+coffee; for Phoebe's wagon had a stove and chimney; and then they yoked
+their miscellaneous cattle again, and breasted the hill. With many
+a jump, and bump, and jolt, and scream from inside, they reached the
+summit, and looked down on a vast slope, flowering but arid, a region of
+gaudy sterility.
+
+The descent was more tremendous than the ascent, and Phoebe got out,
+and told Christopher she would liever cross the ocean twice than this
+dreadful mountain once.
+
+The Hottentot with the reins was now bent like a bow all the time,
+keeping the cattle from flowing diverse over precipices, and the Kafir
+with his kambok was here, and there, and everywhere, his whip flicking
+like a lancet, and cracking like a horse-pistol, and the pair vied like
+Apollo and Pan, not which could sing sweetest, but swear loudest. Having
+the lofty hill for some hours between them and the sun, they bumped, and
+jolted, and stuck in mud-holes, and flogged and swore the cattle out
+of them again, till at last they got to the bottom, where ran a turbid
+kloof or stream. It was fordable, but the recent rains had licked away
+the slope; so the existing bank was two feet above the stream. Little
+recked the demon drivers or the parched cattle; in they plunged
+promiscuously, with a flop like thunder, followed by an awful splashing.
+The wagon stuck fast in the mud, the horses tied themselves in a knot,
+and rolled about in the stream, and the oxen drank imperturbably.
+
+“Oh, the salt! the salt!” screamed Phoebe, and the rocks re-echoed her
+lamentations.
+
+The wagon was inextricable, the cattle done up, the savages lazy, so
+they stayed for several hours. Christopher botanized, but not alone.
+Phoebe drew Ucatella apart, and explained to her that when a man is a
+little wrong in the head, it makes a child of him: “So,” said she, “you
+must think he is your child, and never let him out of your sight.”
+
+“All right,” said the sable Juno, who spoke English ridiculously well,
+and rapped out idioms; especially “Come on,” and “All right.”
+
+About dusk, what the drivers had foreseen, though they had not the sense
+to explain it, took place; the kloof dwindled to a mere gutter, and the
+wagon stuck high and dry. Phoebe waved her handkerchief to Ucatella.
+Ucatella, who had dogged Christopher about four hours without a word,
+now took his hand, and said, “My child, missy wants us; come on;” and so
+led him unresistingly.
+
+The drivers, flogging like devils, cursing like troopers, and yelling
+like hyenas gone mad, tried to get the wagon off; but it was fast as a
+rock. Then Dick and the Hottentot put their shoulders to one wheel, and
+tried to prise it up, while the Kafir ENCOURAGED the cattle with his
+thong. Observing this, Christopher went in, with his sable custodian at
+his heels, and heaved at the other embedded wheel. The wagon was lifted
+directly, so that the cattle tugged it out, and they got clear. On
+examination, the salt had just escaped.
+
+Says Ucatella to Phoebe, a little ostentatiously, “My child is strong
+and useful; make little missy a good slave.”
+
+“A slave! Heaven forbid!” said Phoebe. “He'll be a father to us all,
+once he gets his head back; and I do think it is coming--but very slow.”
+
+The next three days offered the ordinary incidents of African travel,
+but nothing that operated much on Christopher's mind, which is the
+true point of this narrative; and as there are many admirable books of
+African travel, it is the more proper I should confine myself to what
+may be called the relevant incidents of the journey.
+
+On the sixth day from Cape Town, they came up with a large wagon stuck
+in a mud-hole. There was quite a party of Boers, Hottentots, Kafirs,
+round it, armed with whips, shamboks, and oaths, lashing and cursing
+without intermission, or any good effect; and there were the wretched
+beasts straining in vain at their choking yokes, moaning with anguish,
+trembling with terror, their poor mild eyes dilated with agony and fear,
+and often, when the blows of the cruel shamboks cut open their bleeding
+flesh, they bellowed to Heaven their miserable and vain protest against
+this devil's work.
+
+Then the past opened its stores, and lent Christopher a word.
+
+“BARBARIANS!” he roared, and seized a gigantic Kafir by the throat,
+just as his shambok descended for the hundredth time. There was a mighty
+struggle, as of two Titans; dust flew round the combatants in a cloud; a
+whirling of big bodies, and down they both went with an awful thud, the
+Saxon uppermost, by Nature's law.
+
+The Kafir's companions, amazed at first, began to roll their eyes and
+draw a knife or two; but Dick ran forward, and said, “Don't hurt him: he
+is wrong HERE.”
+
+This representation pacified them more readily than one might have
+expected. Dick added hastily, “We'll get you out of the hole OUR way,
+and cry quits.”
+
+The proposal was favorably received, and the next minute Christopher and
+Ucatella at one wheel, and Dick and the Hottentot at the other, with no
+other help than two pointed iron bars bought for their shepherds, had
+effected what sixteen oxen could not. To do this Dick Dale had bared his
+arm to the shoulder; it was a stalwart limb, like his sister's, and he
+now held it out all swollen and corded, and slapped it with his other
+hand. “Look'ee here, you chaps,” said he: “the worst use a man can put
+that there to is to go cutting out a poor beast's heart for not doing
+more than he can. You are good fellows, you Kafirs; but I think you have
+sworn never to put your shoulder to a wheel. But, bless your poor silly
+hearts, a little strength put on at the right place is better than a
+deal at the wrong.”
+
+“You hear that, you Kafir chaps?” inquired Ucatella, a little
+arrogantly--for a Kafir.
+
+The Kafirs, who had stood quite silent to imbibe these remarks, bowed
+their heads with all the dignity and politeness of Roman senators,
+Spanish grandees, etc.; and one of the party replied gravely, “The words
+of the white man are always wise.”
+
+“And his arm blanked* strong,” said Christopher's late opponent, from
+whose mind, however, all resentment had vanished.
+
+     * I take this very useful expression from a delightful
+     volume by Mr. Boyle.
+
+Thus spake the Kafirs; yet to this day never hath a man of all their
+tribe put his shoulder to a wheel, so strong is custom in South Africa;
+probably in all Africa; since I remember St. Augustin found it stronger
+than he liked, at Carthage.
+
+Ucatella went to Phoebe, and said, “Missy, my child is good and brave.”
+
+“Bother you and your child!” said poor Phoebe. “To think of his flying
+at a giant like that, and you letting of him. I'm all of a tremble from
+head to foot:” and Phoebe relieved herself with a cry.
+
+“Oh, missy!” said Ucatella.
+
+“There, never mind me. Do go and look after your child, and keep him out
+of more mischief. I wish we were safe at Dale's Kloof, I do.”
+
+Ucatella complied, and went botanizing with Dr. Staines; but that
+gentleman, in the course of his scientific researches into camomile
+flowers and blasted heath, which were all that lovely region afforded,
+suddenly succumbed and stretched out his limbs, and said, sleepily,
+“Good-night--U--cat--” and was off into the land of Nod.
+
+The wagon, which, by the way, had passed the larger but slower vehicle,
+found him fast asleep, and Ucatella standing by him as ordered,
+motionless and grand.
+
+“Oh, dear! what now?” said Phoebe: but being a sensible woman, though
+in the hen and chickens line, she said, “'Tis the fighting and the
+excitement. 'Twill do him more good than harm, I think:” and she had him
+bestowed in the wagon, and never disturbed him night nor day. He slept
+thirty-six hours at a stretch; and when he awoke, she noticed a slight
+change in his eye. He looked at her with an interest he had not shown
+before, and said, “Madam, I know you.”
+
+“Thank God for that,” said Phoebe.
+
+“You kept a little shop, in the other world.”
+
+Phoebe opened her eyes with some little alarm.
+
+“You understand--the world that is locked up--for the present.”
+
+“Well, sir, so I did; and sold you milk and butter. Don't you mind?”
+
+“No--the milk and butter--they are locked up.”
+
+The country became wilder, the signs of life miserably sparse; about
+every twenty miles the farmhouse or hut of a degenerate Boer, whose
+children and slaves pigged together, and all ran jostling, and the
+mistress screamed in her shrill Dutch, and the Hottentots all chirped
+together, and confusion reigned for want of method: often they went
+miles, and saw nothing but a hut or two, with a nude Hottentot eating
+flesh, burnt a little, but not cooked, at the door; and the kloofs
+became deeper and more turbid, and Phoebe was in an agony about her
+salt, and Christopher advised her to break it in big lumps, and hang it
+all about the wagon in sacks; and she did, and Ucatella said profoundly,
+“My child is wise;” and they began to draw near home, and Phoebe to
+fidget; and she said to Christopher, “Oh, dear! I hope they are all
+alive and well: once you leave home, you don't know what may have
+happened by then you come back. One comfort, I've got Sophy: she is very
+dependable, and no beauty, thank my stars.”
+
+That night, the last they had to travel, was cloudy, for a wonder, and
+they groped with lanterns.
+
+Ucatella and her child brought up the rear. Presently there was a light
+pattering behind them. The swift-eared Ucatella clutched Christopher's
+arm, and turning round, pointed back, with eyeballs white and rolling.
+There were full a dozen animals following them, whose bodies seemed
+colorless as shadows, but their eyes little balls of flaming lime-light.
+
+“GUN!” said Christie, and gave the Kafir's arm a pinch. She flew to the
+caravan; he walked backwards, facing the foe. The wagon was halted,
+and Dick ran back with two loaded rifles. In his haste he gave one
+to Christopher, and repented at leisure; but Christopher took it,
+and handled it like an experienced person, and said, with delight,
+“VOLUNTEER.” But with this the cautious animals had vanished like
+bubbles. But Dick told Christopher they would be sure to come back; he
+ordered Ucatella into the wagon, and told her to warn Phoebe not to
+be frightened if guns should be fired. This soothing message brought
+Phoebe's white face out between the curtains, and she implored them to
+get into the wagon, and not tempt Providence.
+
+“Not till I have got thee a kaross of jackal's fur.”
+
+“I'll never wear it!” said Phoebe violently, to divert him from his
+purpose.
+
+“Time will show,” said Dick dryly. “These varmint are on and off
+like shadows, and as cunning as Old Nick. We two will walk on quite
+unconcerned like, and as soon as ever the varmint are at our heels you
+give us the office; and we'll pepper their fur--won't we, doctor?”
+
+“We--will--pepper--their fur,” said Christopher, repeating what to him
+was a lesson in the ancient and venerable English tongue.
+
+So they walked on expectant; and by and by the four-footed shadows with
+large lime-light eyes came stealing on; and Phoebe shrieked, and they
+vanished before the men could draw a bead on them.
+
+“Thou's no use at this work, Pheeb,” said Dick. “Shut thy eyes, and let
+us have Yuke.”
+
+“Iss, master: here I be.”
+
+“You can bleat like a lamb; for I've heard ye.”
+
+“Iss, master. I bleats beautiful;” and she showed snowy teeth from ear
+to ear.
+
+“Well, then, when the varmint are at our heels, draw in thy woolly head,
+and bleat like a young lamb. They won't turn from that, I know, the
+vagabonds.”
+
+Matters being thus prepared, they sauntered on; but the jackals were
+very wary. They came like shadows, so departed--a great many times: but
+at last being re-enforced, they lessened the distance, and got so close,
+that Ucatella withdrew her head, and bleated faintly inside the wagon.
+The men turned, levelling their rifles, and found the troop within
+twenty yards of them. They wheeled directly: but the four barrels poured
+their flame, four loud reports startled the night, and one jackal lay
+dead as a stone, another limped behind the flying crowd, and one lay
+kicking. He was soon despatched, and both carcasses flung over the
+patient oxen; and good-by jackals for the rest of that journey.
+
+Ucatella, with all a Kafir's love of fire-arms, clapped her hands with
+delight. “My child shoots loud and strong,” said she.
+
+“Ay, ay,” replied Phoebe; “they are all alike; wherever there's men,
+look for quarrelling and firing off. We had only to sit quiet in the
+wagon.”
+
+“Ay.” said Dick, “the cattle especially--for it is them the varmint were
+after--and let 'em eat my Hottentots.”
+
+At this picture of the cattle inside the wagon, and the jackals supping
+on cold Hottentot alongside, Phoebe, who had no more humor than a cat,
+but a heart of gold, shut up, and turned red with confusion at her false
+estimate of the recent transaction in fur.
+
+When the sun rose they found themselves in a tract somewhat less arid
+and inhuman; and, at last, at the rise of a gentle slope, they saw, half
+a mile before them, a large farmhouse partly clad with creepers, and a
+little plot of turf, the fruit of eternal watering; item, a flower-bed;
+item, snow-white palings; item, an air of cleanliness and neatness
+scarcely known to those dirty descendants of clean ancestors, the Boers.
+At some distance a very large dam glittered in the sun, and a troop of
+snow-white sheep were watering at it.
+
+“ENGLAND!” cried Christopher.
+
+“Ay, sir,” said Phoebe; “as nigh as man can make it.” But soon she began
+to fret: “Oh, dear! where are they all? If it was me, I'd be at the door
+looking out. Ah, there goes Yuke to rouse them up.”
+
+“Come, Pheeb, don't you fidget,” said Dick kindly. “Why, the lazy lot
+are scarce out of their beds by this time.”
+
+“More shame for 'em. If they were away from me, and coming home, I
+should be at the door day AND night, I know. Ah!”
+
+She uttered a scream of delight, for just then, out came Ucatella, with
+little Tommy on her shoulder, and danced along to meet her. As she came
+close, she raised the chubby child high in the air, and he crowed;
+and then she lowered him to his mother, who rushed at him, seized,
+and devoured him with a hundred inarticulate cries of joy and love
+unspeakable.
+
+“NATURE!” said Christopher dogmatically, recognizing an old
+acquaintance, and booking it as one more conquest gained over the past.
+But there was too much excitement over the cherub to attend to him. So
+he watched the woman gravely, and began to moralize with all his might.
+“This,” said he, “is what we used to call maternal love; and all animals
+had it, and that is why the noble savage went for him. It was very good
+of you, Miss Savage,” said the poor soul sententiously.
+
+“Good of her!” cried Phoebe. “She is all goodness. Savage, find me a
+Dutchwoman like her! I'll give her a good cuddle for it;” and she took
+the Kafir round the neck, and gave her a hearty kiss, and made the
+little boy kiss her too.
+
+At this moment out came a collie dog, hunting Ucatella by scent alone,
+which process landed him headlong in the group; he gave loud barks of
+recognition, fawned on Phoebe and Dick, smelt poor Christopher, gave
+a growl of suspicion, and lurked about squinting, dissatisfied, and
+lowering his tail.
+
+“Thou art wrong, lad, for once,” said Dick; “for he's an old friend, and
+a good one.”
+
+“After the dog, perhaps some Christian will come to welcome us,” said
+poor Phoebe.
+
+Obedient to the wish, out walked Sophy, the English nurse, a scraggy
+woman, with a very cocked nose and thin, pinched lips, and an air of
+respectability and pertness mingled. She dropped a short courtesy, shot
+the glance of a basilisk at Ucatella, and said stiffly, “You are welcome
+home, ma'am.” Then she took the little boy as one having authority.
+Not that Phoebe would have surrendered him; but just then Mr. Falcon
+strolled out, with a cigar in his mouth, and Phoebe, with her heart in
+HER mouth, flew to meet him. There was a rapturous conjugal embrace,
+followed by mutual inquiries; and the wagon drew up at the door. Then,
+for the first time, Falcon observed Staines, saw at once he was a
+gentleman, and touched his hat to him, to which Christopher responded in
+kind, and remembered he had done so in the locked-up past.
+
+Phoebe instantly drew her husband apart by the sleeve. “Who do you think
+that is? You'll never guess. 'Tis the great doctor that saved Dick's
+life in England with cutting of his throat. But, oh, my dear, he is not
+the man he was. He is afflicted. Out of his mind partly. Well, we must
+cure him, and square the account for Dick. I'm a proud woman at finding
+him, and bringing him here to make him all right again, I can tell you.
+Oh, I am happy, I am happy. Little did I think to be so happy as I am.
+And, my dear, I have brought you a whole sackful of newspapers, old and
+new.”
+
+“That is a good girl. But tell me a little more about him. What is his
+name?”
+
+“Christie.”
+
+“Dr. Christie?”
+
+“No doubt. He wasn't an apothecary, or a chemist, you may be sure, but
+a high doctor, and the cleverest ever was or ever will be: and isn't it
+sad, love, to see him brought down so? My heart yearns for the poor
+man: and then his wife--the sweetest, loveliest creature you ever--oh!”
+ Phoebe stopped very short, for she remembered something all of a sudden;
+nor did she ever again give Falcon a chance of knowing that the woman,
+whose presence had so disturbed him, was this very Dr. Christie's wife.
+“Curious!” thought she to herself, “the world to be so large, and yet so
+small:” then aloud, “They are unpacking the wagon; come, dear. I don't
+think I have forgotten anything of yours. There's cigars, and
+tobacco, and powder, and shot, and bullets, and everything to make you
+comfortable, as my duty 'tis; and--oh, but I'm a happy woman.”
+
+Hottentots, big and little, clustered about the wagon. Treasure after
+treasure was delivered with cries of delight; the dogs found out it was
+a joyful time, and barked about the wheeled treasury; and the place did
+not quiet down till sunset.
+
+A plain but tidy little room was given to Christopher, and he slept
+there like a top. Next morning his nurse called him up to help her water
+the grass. She led the way with a tub on her head and two buckets in it.
+She took him to the dam; when she got there she took out the buckets,
+left one on the bank, and gave the other to Christie. She then went down
+the steps till the water was up to her neck, and bade Christie fill the
+tub. He poured eight bucketsful in. Then she came slowly out, straight
+as an arrow, balancing this tub full on her head. Then she held out her
+hands for the two buckets. Christie filled them, wondering, and gave
+them to her. She took them like toy buckets, and glided slowly home with
+this enormous weight, and never spilled a drop. Indeed, the walk was
+more smooth and noble than ever, if possible.
+
+When she reached the house, she hailed a Hottentot, and it cost the
+man and Christopher a great effort of strength to lower her tub between
+them.
+
+“What a vertebral column you must have!” said Christopher.
+
+“You must not speak bad words, my child,” said she. “Now, you water the
+grass and the flowers.” She gave him a watering-pot, and watched him
+maternally; but did not put a hand to it. She evidently considered this
+part of the business as child's play, and not a fit exercise of her
+powers.
+
+It was only by drowning that little oasis twice a day that the grass was
+kept green and the flowers alive.
+
+She found him other jobs in course of the day, and indeed he was always
+helping somebody or other, and became quite ruddy, bronzed, and plump of
+cheek, and wore a strange look of happiness, except at times when he
+got apart, and tried to recall the distant past. Then he would knit his
+brow, and looked perplexed and sad.
+
+They were getting quite used to him, and he to them, when one day he did
+not come in to dinner. Phoebe sent out for him; but they could not find
+him.
+
+The sun set. Phoebe became greatly alarmed, and even Dick was anxious.
+
+They all turned out, with guns and dogs, and hunted for him beneath the
+stars.
+
+Just before daybreak Dick Dale saw a fire sparkle by the side of a
+distant thicket. He went to it, and there was Ucatella seated, calm and
+grand as antique statue, and Christopher lying by her side, with a shawl
+thrown over him. As Dale came hurriedly up, she put her finger to her
+lips, and said, “My child sleeps. Do not wake him. When he sleeps, he
+hunts the past, as Collie hunts the springbok.”
+
+“Here's a go,” said Dick. Then, hearing a chuckle, he looked up, and was
+aware of a comical appendage to the scene. There hung, head downwards,
+from a branch, a Kafir boy, who was, in fact, the brother of the stately
+Ucatella, only went further into antiquity for his models of deportment;
+for, as she imitated the antique marbles, he reproduced the habits of
+that epoch when man roosted, and was arboreal. Wheel somersaults, and,
+above all, swinging head downwards from a branch, were the sweeteners of
+his existence.
+
+“Oh! YOU are there, are you?” said Dick.
+
+“Iss,” said Ucatella. “Tim good boy. Tim found my child.”
+
+“Well,” said Dick, “he has chosen a nice place. This is the clump the
+last lion came out of, at least they say so. For my part, I never saw
+an African lion; Falcon says they've all took ship, and gone to England.
+However, I shall stay here with my rifle till daybreak. 'Tis tempting
+Providence to lie down on the skirt of a wood for Lord knows what to
+jump out on ye unawares.”
+
+Tim was sent home for Hottentots, and Christopher was carried home,
+still sleeping, and laid on his own bed.
+
+He slept twenty-four hours more, and, when he was fairly awake, a sort
+of mist seemed to clear away in places, and he remembered things at
+random. He remembered being at sea on the raft with the dead body;
+that picture was quite vivid to him. He remembered, too, being in the
+hospital, and meeting Phoebe, and every succeeding incident; but as
+respected the more distant past, he could not recall it by any effort
+of his will. His mind could only go into that remoter past by material
+stepping-stones; and what stepping-stones he had about him here led him
+back to general knowledge, but not to his private history.
+
+In this condition he puzzled them all strangely at the farm; his mind
+was alternately so clear and so obscure. He would chat with Phoebe, and
+sometimes give her a good practical hint; but the next moment, helpless
+for want of memory, that great faculty without which judgment cannot
+act, having no material.
+
+After some days of this, he had another great sleep. It brought him back
+the distant past in chapters. His wedding-day. His wife's face and dress
+upon that day. His parting with her: his whole voyage out: but, strange
+to say, it swept away one-half of that which he had recovered at his
+last sleep, and he no longer remembered clearly how he came to be at
+Dale's Kloof.
+
+Thus his mind might be compared to one climbing a slippery place, who
+gains a foot or two, then slips back; but on the whole gains more than
+he loses.
+
+He took a great liking to Falcon. That gentleman had the art of
+pleasing, and the tact never to offend.
+
+Falcon affected to treat the poor soul's want of memory as a common
+infirmity; pretended he was himself very often troubled in the same way,
+and advised him to read the newspapers. “My good wife,” said he, “has
+brought me a whole file of the Cape Gazette. I'd read them if I was you.
+The deuce is in it, if you don't rake up something or other.”
+
+Christopher thanked him warmly for this: he got the papers to his own
+little room, and had always one or two in his pocket for reading. At
+first he found a good many hard words that puzzled him; and he borrowed
+a pencil of Phoebe, and noted them down. Strange to say, the words that
+puzzled him were always common words, that his unaccountable memory had
+forgotten: a hard word, he was sure to remember that.
+
+One day he had to ask Falcon the meaning of “spendthrift.” Falcon told
+him briefly. He could have illustrated the word by a striking example;
+but he did not. He added, in his polite way, “No fellow can understand
+all the words in a newspaper. Now, here's a word in mine--'Anemometer;'
+who the deuce can understand such a word?”
+
+“Oh, THAT is a common word enough,” said poor Christopher. “It means a
+machine for measuring the force of the wind.”
+
+“Oh, indeed,” said Falcon; but did not believe a word of it.
+
+One sultry day Christopher had a violent headache, and complained
+to Ucatella. She told Phoebe, and they bound his brows with a wet
+handkerchief, and advised him to keep in-doors. He sat down in the
+coolest part of the house, and held his head with his hands, for it
+seemed as if it would explode into two great fragments.
+
+All in a moment the sky was overcast with angry clouds, whirling this
+way and that. Huge drops of hail pattered down, and the next minute came
+a tremendous flash of lightning, accompanied, rather than followed, by a
+crash of thunder close over their heads.
+
+This was the opening. Down came a deluge out of clouds that looked
+mountains of pitch, and made the day night but for the fast and furious
+strokes of lightning that fired the air. The scream of wind and awful
+peals of thunder completed the horrors of the scene.
+
+In the midst of this, by what agency I know no more than science or
+a sheep does, something went off inside Christopher's head, like a
+pistol-shot. He gave a sort of scream, and dashed out into the weather.
+
+Phoebe heard his scream and his flying footstep, and uttered an
+ejaculation of fear. The whole household was alarmed, and, under other
+circumstances, would have followed him; but you could not see ten yards.
+
+A chill sense of impending misfortune settled on the house. Phoebe threw
+her apron over her head, and rocked in her chair.
+
+Dick himself looked very grave.
+
+Ucatella would have tried to follow him; but Dick forbade her. “'Tis no
+use,” said he. “When it clears, we that be men will go for him.”
+
+“Pray Heaven you may find him alive!”
+
+“I don't think but what we shall. There's nowhere he can fall down to
+hurt himself, nor yet drown himself, but our dam; and he has not gone
+that way. But”--
+
+“But what?”
+
+“If we do find him, we must take him back to Cape Town, before he does
+himself, or some one, a mischief. Why, Phoebe, don't you see the man has
+gone raving mad?”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+The electrified man rushed out into the storm, but he scarcely felt
+it in his body; the effect on his mind overpowered hail-stones. The
+lightning seemed to light up the past; the mighty explosions of thunder
+seemed cannon strokes knocking down a wall, and letting in his whole
+life.
+
+Six hours the storm raged, and, before it ended, he had recovered nearly
+his whole past, except his voyage with Captain Dodd--that, indeed, he
+never recovered--and the things that happened to him in the hospital
+before he met Phoebe Falcon and her brother: and as soon as he had
+recovered his lost memory, his body began to shiver at the hail and
+rain. He tried to find his way home, but missed it; not so much,
+however, but that he recovered it as soon as it began to clear, and
+just as they were coming out to look for him, he appeared before them,
+dripping, shivering, very pale and worn, with the handkerchief still
+about his head.
+
+At sight of him, Dick slipped back to his sister, and said, rather
+roughly, “There now, you may leave off crying: he is come home; and
+to-morrow I take him to Cape Town.”
+
+Christopher crept in, a dismal, sinister figure.
+
+“Oh, sir,” said Phoebe, “was this a day for a Christian to be out in?
+How could you go and frighten us so?”
+
+“Forgive me, madam,” said Christopher humbly; “I was not myself.”
+
+“The best thing you can do now is to go to bed, and let us send you up
+something warm.”
+
+“You are very good,” said Christopher, and retired with the air of one
+too full of great amazing thoughts to gossip.
+
+He slept thirty hours at a stretch, and then, awaking in the dead of
+night, he saw the past even more clear and vivid; he lighted his candle
+and began to grope in the Cape Gazette. As to dates, he now remembered
+when he had sailed from England, and also from Madeira. Following up
+this clew, he found in the Gazette a notice that H. M. ship Amphitrite
+had been spoken off the Cape, and had reported the melancholy loss of a
+promising physician and man of science, Dr. Staines.
+
+The account said every exertion had been made to save him, but in vain.
+
+Staines ground his teeth with rage at this. “Every exertion! the
+false-hearted curs. They left me to drown, without one manly effort to
+save me. Curse them, and curse all the world.”
+
+Pursuing his researches rapidly, he found a much longer account of a
+raft picked up by Captain Dodd, with a white man on it and a dead body,
+the white man having on him a considerable sum in money and jewels.
+
+Then a new anxiety chilled him. There was not a word to identify him
+with Dr. Staines. The idea had never occurred to the editor of the Cape
+Gazette. Still less would it occur to any one in England. At this moment
+his wife must be mourning for him. “Poor--poor Rosa!”
+
+But perhaps the fatal news might not have reached her.
+
+That hope was dashed away as soon as found. Why, these were all OLD
+NEWSPAPERS. That gentlemanly man who had lent them to him had said so.
+
+Old! yet they completed the year 1867.
+
+He now tore through them for the dates alone, and soon found they went
+to 1868. Yet they were old papers. He had sailed in May, 1867.
+
+“My God!” he cried, in agony, “I HAVE LOST A YEAR.”
+
+This thought crushed him. By and by he began to carry this awful idea
+into details. “My Rosa has worn mourning for me, and put it off again. I
+am dead to her, and to all the world.”
+
+He wept long and bitterly.
+
+Those tears cleared his brain still more. For all that, he was not yet
+himself; at least, I doubt it; his insanity, driven from the intellect,
+fastened one lingering claw into his moral nature, and hung on by it.
+His soul filled with bitterness and a desire to be revenged on mankind
+for their injustice, and this thought possessed him more than reason.
+
+He joined the family at breakfast; and never a word all the time. But
+when he got up to go, he said, in a strange, dogged way, as if it went
+against the grain, “God bless the house that succors the afflicted.”
+ Then he went out to brood alone.
+
+“Dick,” said Phoebe, “there's a change. I'll never part with him: and
+look, there's Collie following him, that never could abide him.”
+
+“Part with him?” said Reginald. “Of course not. He is a gentleman, and
+they are not so common in Africa.”
+
+Dick, who hated Falcon, ignored this speech entirely, and said, “Well,
+Pheeb, you and Collie are wiser than I am. Take your own way, and don't
+blame me if anything happens.”
+
+Soon Christopher paid the penalty of returning reason. He suffered all
+the poignant agony a great heart can endure.
+
+So this was his reward for his great act of self-denial in leaving his
+beloved wife. He had lost his patient; he had lost the income from that
+patient; his wife was worse off than before, and had doubtless suffered
+the anguish of a loving heart bereaved. His mind, which now seemed more
+vigorous than ever, after its long rest, placed her before his very
+eyes, pale, and worn with grief, in her widow's cap.
+
+At the picture, he cried like the rain. He could give her joy, by
+writing; but he could not prevent her from suffering a whole year of
+misery.
+
+Turning this over in connection with their poverty, his evil genius
+whispered, “By this time she has received the six thousand pounds for
+your death. SHE would never think of that; but her father has: and there
+is her comfort assured, in spite of the caitiffs who left her husband to
+drown like a dog.
+
+“I know my Rosa,” he thought. “She has swooned--ah, my poor darling--she
+has raved--she has wept,” he wept himself at the thought--“she has
+mourned every indiscreet act, as if it was a crime. But she HAS done
+all this. Her good and loving but shallow nature is now at rest from the
+agonies of bereavement, and nought remains but sad and tender regrets.
+She can better endure that than poverty: cursed poverty, which has
+brought her and me to this, and is the only real evil in the world, but
+bodily pain.”
+
+Then came a struggle, that lasted a whole week, and knitted his brows,
+and took the color from his cheek; but it ended in the triumph of love
+and hate, over conscience and common sense. His Rosa should not be poor;
+and he would cheat some of those contemptible creatures called men, who
+had done him nothing but injustice, and at last had sacrificed his life
+like a rat's.
+
+When the struggle was over, and the fatal resolution taken, then he
+became calmer, less solitary, and more sociable.
+
+Phoebe, who was secretly watching him with a woman's eye, observed this
+change in him, and, with benevolent intentions, invited him one day to
+ride round the farm with her. He consented readily. She showed him the
+fields devoted to maize and wheat, and then the sheepfolds. Tim's sheep
+were apparently deserted; but he was discovered swinging head downwards
+from the branch of a camel-thorn, and seeing him, it did strike one that
+if he had had a tail he would have been swinging by that. Phoebe called
+to him: he never answered, but set off running to her, and landed
+himself under her nose in a wheel somersault.
+
+“I hope you are watching them, Tim,” said his mistress.
+
+“Iss, missy, always washing 'em.”
+
+“Why, there's one straying towards the wood now.”
+
+“He not go far,” said Tim coolly. The young monkey stole off a little
+way, then fell flat, and uttered the cry of a jackal, with startling
+precision. Back went the sheep to his comrades post haste, and Tim
+effected a somersault and a chuckle.
+
+“You are a clever boy,” said Phoebe. “So that is how you manage them.”
+
+“Dat one way, missy,” said Tim, not caring to reveal all his resources
+at once.
+
+Then Phoebe rode on, and showed Christopher the ostrich pan. It was
+a large basin, a form the soil often takes in these parts; and in it
+strutted several full-grown ostriches and their young, bred on the
+premises. There was a little dam of water, and plenty of food about.
+They were herded by a Kafir infant of about six, black, glossy, fat, and
+clean, being in the water six times a day.
+
+Sometimes one of the older birds would show an inclination to stray out
+of the pan. Then the infant rolled after her, and tapped her ankles with
+a wand. She instantly came back, but without any loss of dignity, for
+she strutted with her nose in the air, affecting completely to ignore
+the inferior little animal, that was nevertheless controlling her
+movements. “There's a farce,” said Phoebe. “But you would not believe
+the money they cost me, nor the money they bring me in. Grain will not
+sell here for a quarter its value: and we can't afford to send it to
+Cape Town, twenty days and back; but finery, that sells everywhere. I
+gather sixty pounds the year off those poor fowls' backs--clear profit.”
+
+She showed him the granary, and told him there wasn't such another in
+Africa. This farm had belonged to one of the old Dutch settlers, and
+that breed had been going down this many a year. “You see, sir, Dick
+and I being English, and not downright in want of money, we can't bring
+ourselves to sell grain to the middlemen for nothing, so we store it,
+hoping for better times, that maybe will never come. Now I'll show you
+how the dam is made.”
+
+They inspected the dam all round. “This is our best friend of all,” said
+she. “Without this the sun would turn us all to tinder,--crops, flowers,
+beasts, and folk.”
+
+“Oh, indeed,” said Staines. “Then it is a pity you have not built it
+more scientifically. I must have a look at this.”
+
+“Ay do, sir, and advise us if you see anything wrong. But hark! it is
+milking time. Come and see that.” So she led the way to some sheds, and
+there they found several cows being milked, each by a little calf and a
+little Hottentot at the same time, and both fighting and jostling each
+other for the udder. Now and then a young cow, unused to incongruous
+twins, would kick impatiently at both animals and scatter them.
+
+“That is their way,” said Phoebe: “they have got it into their silly
+Hottentot heads as kye won't yield their milk if the calf is taken away;
+and it is no use arguing with 'em; they will have their own way; but
+they are very trusty and honest, poor things. We soon found that out.
+When we came here first it was in a hired wagon, and Hottentot drivers:
+so when we came to settle I made ready for a bit of a wrangle. But my
+maid Sophy, that is nurse now, and a great despiser of heathens, she
+says, 'Don't you trouble; them nasty ignorant blacks never charges more
+than their due.' 'I forgive 'em,' says I; 'I wish all white folk was as
+nice.' However, I did give them a trifle over, for luck: and then they
+got together and chattered something near the door, hand in hand. 'La,
+Sophy,' says I, 'what is up now?' Says she, 'They are blessing of us.
+Things is come to a pretty pass, for ignorant Muslinmen heathen to be
+blessing Christian folk.' 'Well,' says I, 'it won't hurt us any.' 'I
+don't know,' says she. 'I don't want the devil prayed over me.' So she
+cocked that long nose of hers and followed it in a doors.”
+
+By this time they were near the house, and Phoebe was obliged to come to
+her postscript, for the sake of which, believe me, she had uttered
+every syllable of this varied chat. “Well, sir,” said she, affecting to
+proceed without any considerable change of topic, “and how do you find
+yourself? Have you discovered the past?”
+
+“I have, madam. I remember every leading incident of my life.”
+
+“And has it made you happier?” said Phoebe softly.
+
+“No,” said Christopher gravely. “Memory has brought me misery.”
+
+“I feared as much; for you have lost your fine color, and your eyes are
+hollow, and lines on your poor brow that were not there before. Are you
+not sorry you have discovered the past?”
+
+“No, Mrs. Falcon. Give me the sovereign gift of reason, with all the
+torture it can inflict. I thank God for returning memory, even with the
+misery it brings.”
+
+Phoebe was silent a long time: then she said in a low, gentle voice,
+and with the indirectness of a truly feminine nature, “I have plenty of
+writing-paper in the house; and the post goes south to-morrow, such as
+'tis.”
+
+Christopher struggled with his misery, and trembled.
+
+He was silent a long time. Then he said, “No. It is her interest that I
+should be dead.”
+
+“Well, but, sir--take a thought.”
+
+“Not a word more, I implore you. I am the most miserable man that ever
+breathed.” As he spoke, two bitter tears forced their way.
+
+Phoebe cast a look of pity on him, and said no more; but she shook her
+head. Her plain common sense revolted.
+
+However, it did not follow he would be in the same mind next week: so
+she was in excellent spirits at her protege's recovery, and very proud
+of her cure, and celebrated the event with a roaring supper, including
+an English ham, and a bottle of port wine; and, ten to one, that was
+English too.
+
+Dick Dale looked a little incredulous, but he did not spare the ham any
+the more for that.
+
+After supper, in a pause of conversation, Staines turned to Dick, and
+said, rather abruptly, “Suppose that dam of yours were to burst and
+empty its contents, would it not be a great misfortune to you?”
+
+“Misfortune, sir! Don't talk of it. Why, it would ruin us, beast and
+body.”
+
+“Well, it will burst, if it is not looked to.”
+
+“Dale's Kloof dam burst! the biggest and strongest for a hundred miles
+round.”
+
+“You deceive yourself. It is not scientifically built, to begin, and
+there is a cause at work that will infallibly burst it, if not looked to
+in time.”
+
+“And what is that, sir?”
+
+“The dam is full of crabs.”
+
+“So 'tis; but what of them?”
+
+“I detected two of them that had perforated the dyke from the wet side
+to the dry, and water was trickling through the channel they had made.
+Now, for me to catch two that had come right through, there must be a
+great many at work honeycombing your dyke; those channels, once made,
+will be enlarged by the permeating water, and a mere cupful of water
+forced into a dyke by the great pressure of a heavy column has an
+expansive power quite out of proportion to the quantity forced in.
+Colossal dykes have been burst in this way with disastrous effects.
+Indeed, it is only a question of time, and I would not guarantee your
+dyke twelve hours. It is full, too, with the heavy rains.”
+
+“Here's a go!” said Dick, turning pale. “Well, if it is to burst, it
+must.”
+
+“Why so? You can make it safe in a few hours. You have got a clumsy
+contrivance for letting off the excess of water: let us go and relieve
+the dam at once of two feet of water. That will make it safe for a day
+or two, and to-morrow we will puddle it afresh, and demolish those busy
+excavators.”
+
+He spoke with such authority and earnestness, that they all got up from
+table; a horn was blown that soon brought the Hottentots, and they all
+proceeded to the dam. With infinite difficulty they opened the waste
+sluice, lowered the water two feet, and so drenched the arid soil that
+in forty-eight hours flowers unknown sprang up.
+
+Next morning, under the doctor's orders, all the black men and boys were
+diving with lumps of stiff clay and puddling the endangered wall with a
+thick wall of it. This took all the people the whole day.
+
+Next day the clay wall was carried two feet higher, and then the doctor
+made them work on the other side and buttress the dyke with supports so
+enormous as seemed extravagant to Dick and Phoebe; but, after all, it
+was as well to be on the safe side, they thought: and soon they were
+sure of it, for the whole work was hardly finished when the news came in
+that the dyke of a neighboring Boer, ten miles off, had exploded like a
+cannon, and emptied itself in five minutes, drowning the farm-yard and
+floating the furniture, but leaving them all to perish of drought; and
+indeed the Boer's cart came every day, with empty barrels, for some
+time, to beg water of the Dales. Ucatella pondered all this, and said
+her doctor child was wise.
+
+This brief excitement over, Staines went back to his own gloomy
+thoughts, and they scarcely saw him, except at supper-time.
+
+One evening he surprised them all by asking if they would add to all
+their kindness by lending him a horse, and a spade, and a few pounds to
+go to the diamond fields.
+
+Dick Dale looked at his sister. She said, “We had rather lend them you
+to go home with, sir, if you must leave us; but, dear heart, I was half
+in hopes--Dick and I were talking it over only yesterday--that you would
+go partners like with us; ever since you saved the dam.”
+
+“I have too little to offer for that, Mrs. Falcon; and, besides, I am
+driven into a corner. I must make money quickly, or not at all: the
+diamonds are only three hundred miles off: for heaven's sake, let me try
+my luck.”
+
+They tried to dissuade him, and told him not one in fifty did any good
+at it.
+
+“Ay, but I shall,” said he. “Great bad luck is followed by great good
+luck, and I feel my turn is come. Not that I rely on luck. An accident
+directed my attention to the diamond a few years ago, and I read a
+number of prime works upon the subject that told me of things not
+known to the miners. It is clear, from the Cape journals, that they
+are looking for diamonds in the river only. Now, I am sure that is a
+mistake. Diamonds, like gold, have their matrix, and it is comparatively
+few gems that get washed into the river. I am confident that I shall
+find the volcanic matrix, and perhaps make my fortune in a week or two.”
+
+When the dialogue took this turn, Reginald Falcon's cheek began to
+flush, and his eyes to glitter.
+
+Christopher continued: “You who have befriended me so will not turn
+back, I am sure, when I have such a chance before me; and as for the
+small sum of money I shall require, I will repay you some day, even
+if”--
+
+“La, sir, don't talk so. If you put it that way, why, the best horse we
+have, and fifty pounds in good English gold, they are at your service
+to-morrow.”
+
+“And pick and spade to boot,” said Dick, “and a double rifle, for there
+are lions, and Lord knows what, between this and the Vaal river.”
+
+“God bless you both!” said Christopher. “I will start to-morrow.”
+
+“And I'll go with you,” said Reginald Falcon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+“Heaven forbid!” said Phoebe. “No, my dear, no more diamonds for us. We
+never had but one, and it brought us trouble.”
+
+“Nonsense, Phoebe,” replied Falcon; “it was not the diamond's fault.
+You know I have often wanted to go there, but you objected. You said you
+were afraid some evil would befall me. But now Solomon himself is going
+to the mines, let us have no more of that nonsense. We will take our
+rifles and our pistols.”
+
+“There--there--rifles and pistols,” cried Phoebe; “that shows.”
+
+“And we will be there in a week; stay a month, and home with our pockets
+full of diamonds.”
+
+“And find me dead of a broken heart.”
+
+“Broken fiddlestick! We have been parted longer than that, and yet here
+we are all right.”
+
+“Ay, but the pitcher that goes too often to the well gets broke at last.
+No, Reginald, now I have tasted three years' happiness and peace of
+mind, I cannot go through what I used in England. Oh, doctor! have you
+the heart to part man and wife, that have never been a day from each
+other all these years?”
+
+“Mrs. Falcon, I would not do it for all the diamonds in Brazil. No, Mr.
+Falcon, I need hardly say how charmed I should be to have your company:
+but that is a pleasure I shall certainly deny myself, after what your
+good wife has said. I owe her too much to cause her a single pang.”
+
+“Doctor,” said the charming Reginald, “you are a gentleman and side with
+the lady. Quite right. It adds to my esteem, if possible. Make your
+mind easy; I will go alone. I am not a farmer. I am dead sick of this
+monotonous life; and, since I am compelled to speak my mind, a little
+ashamed, as a gentleman, of living on my wife and her brother, and doing
+nothing for myself. So I shall go to the Vaal river, and see a little
+life; here there's nothing but vegetation--and not much of that. Not
+a word more, Phoebe, if you please. I am a good, easy, affectionate
+husband, but I am a man, and not a child to be tied to a woman's
+apron-strings, however much I may love and respect her.”
+
+Dick put in his word: “Since you are so independent, you can WALK to the
+Vaal river. I can't spare a couple of horses.”
+
+This hit the sybarite hard, and he cast a bitter glance of hatred at his
+brother-in-law, and fell into a moody silence.
+
+But when he got Phoebe to himself, he descanted on her selfishness,
+Dick's rudeness, and his own wounded dignity, till he made her quite
+anxious he should have his own way. She came to Staines, with red eyes,
+and said, “Tell me, doctor, will there be any women up there--to take
+care of you?”
+
+“Not a petticoat in the place, I believe. It is a very rough life; and
+how Falcon could think of leaving you and sweet little Tommy, and this
+life of health, and peace, and comfort--”
+
+“Yet YOU do leave us, sir.”
+
+“I am the most unfortunate man upon the earth; Falcon is one of the
+happiest. Would I leave wife and child to go there? Ah me! I am dead to
+those I love. This is my one chance of seeing my darling again for many
+a long year perhaps. Oh, I must not speak of HER--it unmans me. My good,
+kind friend, I'll tell you what to do. When we are all at supper, let
+a horse be saddled and left in the yard for me. I'll bid you all
+good-night, and I'll put fifty miles between us before morning. Even
+then HE need not be told I am gone; he will not follow me.”
+
+“You are very good, sir,” said Phoebe; “but no. Too much has been
+said. I can't have him humbled by my brother, nor any one. He says I
+am selfish. Perhaps I am; though I never was called so. I can't bear
+he should think me selfish. He WILL go, and so let us have no ill blood
+about it. Since he is to go, of course I'd much liever he should go with
+you than by himself. You are sure there are no women up there--to take
+care of--you--both? You must be purse-bearer, sir, and look to every
+penny. He is too generous when he has got money to spend.”
+
+In short, Reginald had played so upon her heart, that she now urged the
+joint expedition, only she asked a delay of a day or two to equip them,
+and steel herself to the separation.
+
+Staines did not share those vague fears that overpowered the wife, whose
+bitter experiences were unknown to him; but he felt uncomfortable at her
+condition--for now she was often in tears--and he said all he could to
+comfort her; and he also advised her how to profit by these terrible
+diamonds, in her way. He pointed out to her that her farm lay right
+in the road to the diamonds, yet the traffic all shunned her, passing
+twenty miles to the westward. Said he, “You should profit by all your
+resources. You have wood, a great rarity in Africa; order a portable
+forge; run up a building where miners can sleep, another where they
+can feed; the grain you have so wisely refused to sell, grind it into
+flour.”
+
+“Dear heart! why, there's neither wind nor water to turn a mill.”
+
+“But there are oxen. I'll show you how to make an ox-mill. Send your
+Cape cart into Cape Town for iron lathes, for coffee and tea, and
+groceries by the hundredweight. The moment you are ready--for success
+depends on the order in which we act--then prepare great boards, and
+plant them twenty miles south. Write or paint on them, very large,
+'The nearest way to the Diamond Mines, through Dale's Kloof, where is
+excellent accommodation for man and beast. Tea, coffee, home-made bread,
+fresh butter, etc., etc.' Do this, and you will soon leave off decrying
+diamonds. This is the sure way to coin them. I myself take the doubtful
+way; but I can't help it. I am a dead man, and swift good fortune will
+give me life. You can afford to go the slower road and the surer.”
+
+Then he drew her a model of an ox-mill, and of a miner's dormitory, the
+partitions six feet six apart, so that these very partitions formed
+the bedstead, the bed-sacking being hooked to the uprights. He drew his
+model for twenty bedrooms.
+
+The portable forge and the ox-mill pleased Dick Dale most, but the
+partitioned bedsteads charmed Phoebe. She said, “Oh, doctor, how can one
+man's head hold so many things? If there's a man on earth I can trust my
+husband with, 'tis you. But if things go cross up there, promise me you
+will come back at once and cast in your lot with us. We have got money
+and stock, and you have got headpiece; we might do very well together.
+Indeed, indeed we might. Promise me. Oh, do, please, promise me!”
+
+“I promise you.”
+
+And on this understanding, Staines and Falcon were equipped with rifles,
+pickaxe, shovels, waterproofs, and full saddle-bags, and started, with
+many shakings of the hand, and many tears from Phoebe, for the diamond
+washings.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+Phoebe's tears at parting made Staines feel uncomfortable, and he said
+so.
+
+“Pooh, pooh!” said Falcon, “crying for nothing does a woman good.”
+
+Christopher stared at him.
+
+Falcon's spirits rose as they proceeded. He was like a boy let loose
+from school. His fluency and charm of manner served, however, to cheer a
+singularly dreary journey.
+
+The travellers soon entered on a vast and forbidding region, that
+wearied the eye; at their feet a dull, rusty carpet of dried grass and
+wild camomile, with pale-red sand peeping through the burnt and scanty
+herbage. On the low mounds, that looked like heaps of sifted ashes,
+struggled now and then into sickliness a ragged, twisted shrub. There
+were flowers too, but so sparse, that they sparkled vainly in the
+colorless waste, which stretched to the horizon. The farmhouses were
+twenty miles apart, and nine out of ten of them were new ones built by
+the Boers since they degenerated into white savages: mere huts, with
+domed kitchens behind them. In the dwelling-house the whole family
+pigged together, with raw flesh drying on the rafters, stinking skins
+in a corner, parasitical vermin of all sorts blackening the floor, and
+particularly a small, biting, and odoriferous tortoise, compared with
+which the insect a London washerwoman brings into your house in her
+basket, is a stroke with a feather--and all this without the excuse of
+penury; for many of these were shepherd kings, sheared four thousand
+fleeces a year, and owned a hundred horses and horned cattle.
+
+These Boers are compelled, by unwritten law, to receive travellers and
+water their cattle; but our travellers, after one or two experiences,
+ceased to trouble them; for, added to the dirt, the men were sullen, the
+women moody, silent, brainless; the whole reception churlish. Staines
+detected in them an uneasy consciousness that they had descended, in
+more ways than one, from a civilized race; and the superior bearing of a
+European seemed to remind them what they had been, and might have been,
+and were not; so, after an attempt or two, our adventurers avoided the
+Boers, and tried the Kafirs. They found the savages socially superior,
+though their moral character does not rank high.
+
+The Kafir cabins they entered were caves, lighted only by the door, but
+deliciously cool, and quite clean; the floors of puddled clay or ants'
+nests, and very clean. On entering these cool retreats, the flies that
+had tormented them shirked the cool grot, and buzzed off to the nearest
+farm to batten on congenial foulness. On the fat, round, glossy babies,
+not a speck of dirt, whereas the little Boers were cakes thereof. The
+Kafir would meet them at the door, his clean black face all smiles and
+welcome. The women and grown girls would fling a spotless handkerchief
+over their shoulders in a moment, and display their snowy teeth, in
+unaffected joy at sight of an Englishman.
+
+At one of these huts, one evening, they met with something St. Paul
+ranks above cleanliness even, viz., Christianity. A neighboring lion had
+just eaten a Hottentot faute de mieux; and these good Kafirs wanted the
+Europeans not to go on at night and be eaten for dessert. But they could
+not speak a word of English, and pantomimic expression exists in theory
+alone. In vain the women held our travellers by the coat-tails, and
+pointed to a distant wood. In vain Kafir pere went on all-fours and
+growled sore. But at last a savage youth ran to the kitchen--for they
+never cook in the house--and came back with a brand, and sketched, on
+the wall of the hut, a lion with a mane down to the ground, and a saucer
+eye, not loving. The creature's paw rested on a hat and coat and another
+fragment or two of a European. The rest was fore-shortened, or else
+eaten.
+
+The picture completed, the females looked, approved, and raised a dismal
+howl.
+
+“A lion on the road,” said Christopher gravely.
+
+Then the undaunted Falcon seized the charcoal, and drew an Englishman in
+a theatrical attitude, left foot well forward, firing a gun, and a lion
+rolling head over heels like a buck rabbit, and blood squirting out of a
+hole in his perforated carcass.
+
+The savages saw, and exulted. They were so off their guard as to
+confound representation with fact; they danced round the white warrior,
+and launched him to victory.
+
+“Aha!” said Falcon, “I took the shine out of their lion, didn't I?”
+
+“You did: and once there was a sculptor who showed a lion his marble
+group, a man trampling a lion, extracting his tongue, and so on; but
+report says it DID NOT CONVINCE THE LION.”
+
+“Why, no; a lion is not an ass. But, for your comfort, there ARE no
+lions in this part of the world. They are myths. There were lions in
+Africa. But now they are all at the Zoo. And I wish I was there too.”
+
+“In what character--of a discontented animal--with every blessing? They
+would not take you in; too common in England. Hallo! this is something
+new. What lots of bushes! We should not have much chance with a lion
+here.”
+
+“There ARE no lions: it is not the Zoo,” said Falcon; but he spurred on
+faster.
+
+The country, however, did not change its feature; bushes and little
+acacias prevailed, and presently dark forms began to glide across at
+intervals.
+
+The travellers held their breath, and pushed on; but at last their
+horses flagged; so they thought it best to stop and light a fire and
+stand upon their guard.
+
+They did so, and Falcon sat with his rifle cocked, while Staines boiled
+coffee, and they drank it, and after two hours' halt, pushed on; and at
+last the bushes got more scattered, and they were on the dreary plain
+again. Falcon drew the rein, with a sigh of relief, and they walked
+their horses side by side.
+
+“Well, what has become of the lions?” said Falcon jauntily. He turned in
+his saddle, and saw a large animal stealing behind them with its belly
+to the very earth, and eyes hot coals; he uttered an eldrich screech,
+fired both barrels, with no more aim than a baby, and spurred away,
+yelling like a demon. The animal fled another way, in equal trepidation
+at those tongues of flame and loud reports, and Christopher's horse
+reared and plunged, and deposited him promptly on the sward; but he held
+the bridle, mounted again, and rode after his companion. A stern chase
+is a long chase; and for that or some other reason he could never catch
+him again till sunrise. Being caught, he ignored the lioness, with cool
+hauteur: he said he had ridden on to find comfortable quarters: and
+craved thanks.
+
+This was literally the only incident worth recording that the companions
+met with in three hundred miles.
+
+On the sixth day out, towards afternoon, they found by inquiring they
+were near the diamond washings, and the short route was pointed out by
+an exceptionally civil Boer.
+
+But Christopher's eye had lighted upon a sort of chain of knolls, or
+little round hills, devoid of vegetation, and he told Falcon he would
+like to inspect these, before going farther.
+
+“Oh,” said the Boer, “they are not on my farm, thank goodness! they are
+on my cousin Bulteel's;” and he pointed to a large white house about
+four miles distant, and quite off the road. Nevertheless, Staines
+insisted on going to it. But first they made up to one of these knolls,
+and examined it; it was about thirty feet high, and not a vestige of
+herbage on it; the surface was composed of sand and of lumps of gray
+limestone very hard, diversified with lots of quartz, mica, and other
+old formations.
+
+Staines got to the top of it with some difficulty, and examined the
+surface all over. He came down again, and said, “All these little
+hills mark hot volcanic action--why, they are like boiling
+earth-bubbles--which is the very thing, under certain conditions, to
+turn carbonate of lime into diamonds. Now here is plenty of limestone
+unnaturally hard; and being in a diamond country, I can fancy no place
+more likely to be the matrix than these earth-bubbles. Let us tether the
+horses, and use our shovels.”
+
+They did so; and found one or two common crystals, and some jasper, and
+a piece of chalcedony all in little bubbles, but no diamond. Falcon said
+it was wasting time.
+
+Just then the proprietor, a gigantic, pasty colonist, came up, with his
+pipe, and stood calmly looking on. Staines came down, and made a sort of
+apology. Bulteel smiled quietly, and asked what harm they could do him,
+raking that rubbish. “Rake it all avay, mine vriends,” said he: “ve
+shall thank you moch.”
+
+He then invited them languidly to his house. They went with him, and
+as he volunteered no more remarks, they questioned him, and learned his
+father had been a Hollander, and so had his vrow's. This accounted for
+the size and comparative cleanliness of his place. It was stuccoed with
+the lime of the country outside, and was four times as large as the
+miserable farmhouses of the degenerate Boers. For all this, the street
+door opened on the principal room, and that room was kitchen and parlor,
+only very large and wholesome. “But, Lord,” as poor dear Pepys used to
+blurt out--“to see how some folk understand cleanliness!” The floor was
+made of powdered ants' nests, and smeared with fresh cow-dung every day.
+Yet these people were the cleanest Boers in the colony.
+
+The vrow met them, with a snow-white collar and cuffs of Hamburgh linen,
+and the brats had pasty faces round as pumpkins, but shone with soap.
+The vrow was also pasty-faced, but gentle, and welcomed them with a
+smile, languid, but unequivocal.
+
+The Hottentots took their horses, as a matter of course. Their guns were
+put in a corner. A clean cloth was spread, and they saw they were to sup
+and sleep there, though the words of invitation were never spoken.
+
+At supper, sun-dried flesh, cabbage, and a savory dish the travellers
+returned to with gusto. Staines asked what it was: the vrow told
+him--locusts. They had stripped her garden, and filled her very rooms,
+and fallen in heaps under her walls; so she had pressed them, by the
+million, into cakes, had salted them lightly, and stored them, and they
+were excellent, baked.
+
+After supper, the accomplished Reginald, observing a wire guitar, tuned
+it with some difficulty, and so twanged it, and sang ditties to it, that
+the flabby giant's pasty face wore a look of dreamy content over his
+everlasting pipe; and in the morning, after a silent breakfast, he said,
+“Mine vriends, stay here a year or two, and rake in mine rubbish. Ven
+you are tired, here are springbok and antelopes, and you can shoot
+mit your rifles, and ve vil cook them, and you shall zing us zongs of
+Vaderland.”
+
+They thanked him heartily, and said they would stay a few days, at all
+events.
+
+The placid Boer went a-farming; and the pair shouldered their pick and
+shovel, and worked on their heap all day, and found a number of pretty
+stones, but no diamond.
+
+“Come,” said Falcon, “we must go to the river;” and Staines acquiesced.
+“I bow to experience,” said he.
+
+At the threshold they found two of the little Bulteels, playing with
+pieces of quartz, crystal, etc., on the door-stone. One of these stones
+caught Staines's eye directly. It sparkled in a different way from the
+others: he examined it: it was the size of a white haricot bean, and one
+side of it polished by friction. He looked at it, and looked, and saw
+that it refracted the light. He felt convinced it was a diamond.
+
+“Give the boy a penny for it,” said the ingenious Falcon, on receiving
+the information.
+
+“Oh!” said Staines. “Take advantage of a child?”
+
+He borrowed it of the boy, and laid it on the table, after supper.
+“Sir,” said he, “this is what we were raking in your kopjes for, and
+could not find it. It belongs to little Hans. Will you sell it us? We
+are not experts, but we think it may be a diamond. We will risk ten
+pounds on it.”
+
+“Ten pounds!” said the farmer. “Nay, we rob not travellers, mine
+vriend.”
+
+“But if it is a diamond, it is worth a hundred. See how it gains fire in
+the dusk.”
+
+In short, they forced the ten pounds on him, and next day went to work
+on another kopje.
+
+But the simple farmer's conscience smote him. It was a slack time; so
+he sent four Hotteatots, with shovels, to help these friendly maniacs.
+These worked away gayly, and the white men set up a sorting table, and
+sorted the stuff, and hammered the nodules, and at last found a little
+stone as big as a pea that refracted the light. Staines showed this to
+the Hottentots, and their quick eyes discovered two more that day, only
+smaller.
+
+Next day, nothing but a splinter or two.
+
+Then Staines determined to dig deeper, contrary to the general
+impression. He gave his reason: “Diamonds don't fall from the sky. They
+work up from the ground; and clearly the heat must be greater farther
+down.”
+
+Acting on this, they tried the next strata, but found it entirely
+barren. After that, however, they came to a fresh layer of carbonate,
+and here, Falcon hammering a large lump of conglomerate, out leaped, all
+of a sudden, a diamond big as a nut, that ran along the earth, gleaming
+like a star. It had polished angles and natural facets, and even a
+novice, with an eye in his head, could see it was a diamond of the
+purest water. Staines and Falcon shouted with delight, and made the
+blacks a present on the spot.
+
+They showed the prize, at night, and begged the farmer to take to
+digging. There was ten times more money beneath his soil than on it.
+
+Not he. He was a farmer: did not believe in diamonds. Two days
+afterwards, another great find. Seven small diamonds.
+
+Next day, a stone as large as a cob-nut, and with strange and beautiful
+streaks. They carried it home to dinner, and set it on the table, and
+told the family it was worth a thousand pounds. Bulteel scarcely looked
+at it; but the vrow trembled and all the young folk glowered at it.
+
+In the middle of dinner, it exploded like a cracker, and went literally
+into diamond-dust.
+
+“Dere goes von tousand pounds,” said Bulteel, without moving a muscle.
+
+Falcon swore. But Staines showed fortitude. “It was laminated,” said he,
+“and exposure to the air was fatal.”
+
+Owing to the invaluable assistance of the Hottentots, they had in
+less than a month collected four large stones of pure water, and a
+wineglassful of small stones, when, one fine day, going to work calmly
+after breakfast, they found some tents pitched, and at least a score
+of dirty diggers, bearded like the pard, at work on the ground. Staines
+sent Falcon back to tell Bulteel, and suggest that he should at once
+order them off, or, better still, make terms with them. The phlegmatic
+Boer did neither.
+
+In twenty-four hours it was too late. The place was rushed. In other
+words, diggers swarmed to the spot, with no idea of law but digger's
+law.
+
+A thousand tents rose like mushrooms; and poor Bulteel stood smoking,
+and staring amazed, at his own door, and saw a veritable procession
+of wagons, Cape carts, and powdered travellers file past him to take
+possession of his hillocks. Him, the proprietor, they simply ignored;
+they had a committee who were to deal with all obstructions, landlords
+and tenants included. They themselves measured out Bulteel's farm into
+thirty-foot claims, and went to work with shovel and pick. They held
+Staines's claim sacred--that was diggers' law; but they confined it
+strictly to thirty feet square.
+
+Had the friends resisted, their brains would have been knocked out.
+However, they gained this, that dealers poured in, and the market not
+being yet glutted, the price was good. Staines sold a few of the small
+stones for two hundred pounds. He showed one of the larger stones. The
+dealer's eye glittered, but he offered only three hundred pounds,
+and this was so wide of the ascending scale, on which a stone of that
+importance is priced, that Staines reserved it for sale at Cape Town.
+
+Nevertheless, he afterwards doubted whether he had not better have taken
+it; for the multitude of diggers turned out such a prodigious number of
+diamonds at Bulteel's pan, that a sort of panic fell on the market.
+
+These dry diggings were a revelation to the world. Men began to think
+the diamond perhaps was a commoner stone than any one had dreamed it to
+be.
+
+As to the discovery of stones, Staines and Falcon lost nothing by being
+confined to a thirty-foot claim. Compelled to dig deeper, they got into
+a rich strata, where they found garnets by the pint, and some small
+diamonds, and at last, one lucky day, their largest diamond. It weighed
+thirty-seven carats, and was a rich yellow. Now, when a diamond is
+clouded or off color, it is terribly depreciated; but a diamond with
+a positive color is called a fancy stone, and ranks with the purest
+stones.
+
+“I wish I had this in Cape Town,” said Staines.
+
+“Why, I'll take it to Cape Town, if you like,” said the changeable
+Falcon.
+
+“You will?” said Christopher, surprised.
+
+“Why not? I'm not much of a digger. I can serve our interest better by
+selling. I could get a thousand pounds for this at Cape Town.”
+
+“We will talk of that quietly,” said Christopher.
+
+Now, the fact is, Falcon, as a digger, was not worth a pin. He could not
+sort. His eyes would not bear the blinding glare of a tropical sun upon
+lime and dazzling bits of mica, quartz, crystal, white topaz, etc., in
+the midst of which the true glint of the royal stone had to be caught in
+a moment. He could not sort, and he had not the heart to dig. The only
+way to make him earn his half was to turn him into the travelling and
+selling partner.
+
+Christopher was too generous to tell him this; but he acted on it, and
+said he thought his was an excellent proposal; indeed, he had better
+take all the diamonds they had got to Dale's Kloof first, and show them
+to his wife, for her consolation: “And perhaps,” said he, “in a matter
+of this importance, she will go to Cape Town with you, and try the
+market there.”
+
+“All right,” said Falcon.
+
+He sat and brooded over the matter a long time, and said, “Why make two
+bites of a cherry? They will only give us half the value at Cape Town;
+why not go by the steamer to England, before the London market is
+glutted, and all the world finds out that diamonds are as common as
+dirt?”
+
+“Go to England! What! without your wife? I'll never be a party to that.
+Me part man and wife! If you knew my own story”--
+
+“Why, who wants you?” said Reginald. “You don't understand. Phoebe is
+dying to visit England again; but she has got no excuse. If you like to
+give her one, she will be much obliged to you, I can tell you.”
+
+“Oh, that is a very different matter. If Mrs. Falcon can leave her
+farm--”
+
+“Oh, that brute of a brother of hers is a very honest fellow, for that
+matter. She can trust the farm to him. Besides, it is only a month's
+voyage by the mail steamer.”
+
+This suggestion of Falcon's set Christopher's heart bounding, and his
+eyes glistening. But he restrained himself, and said, “This takes me by
+surprise; let me smoke a pipe over it.”
+
+He not only did that, but he lay awake all night.
+
+The fact is that for some time past, Christopher had felt sharp twinges
+of conscience, and deep misgivings as to the course he had pursued in
+leaving his wife a single day in the dark. Complete convalescence had
+cleared his moral sentiments, and perhaps, after all, the discovery
+of the diamonds had co-operated; since now the insurance money was no
+longer necessary to keep his wife from starving.
+
+“Ah!” said he; “faith is a great quality; and how I have lacked it!”
+
+To do him justice, he knew his wife's excitable nature, and was not
+without fears of some disaster, should the news be communicated to her
+unskilfully.
+
+But this proposal of Falcon's made the way clearer. Mrs. Falcon, though
+not a lady, had all a lady's delicacy, and all a woman's tact and
+tenderness. He knew no one in the world more fit to be trusted with
+the delicate task of breaking to his Rosa that the grave, for once, was
+baffled, and her husband lived. He now became quite anxious for Falcon's
+departure, and ardently hoped that worthy had not deceived himself as to
+Mrs. Falcon's desire to visit England.
+
+In short, it was settled that Falcon should start for Dale's Kloof,
+taking with him the diamonds, believed to be worth altogether three
+thousand pounds at Cape Town, and nearly as much again in England, and
+a long letter to Mrs. Falcon, in which Staines revealed his true story,
+told her where to find his wife, or hear of her, viz., at Kent Villa,
+Gravesend, and sketched an outline of instructions as to the way, and
+cunning degrees, by which the joyful news should be broken to her. With
+this he sent a long letter to be given to Rosa herself, but not till she
+should know all: and in this letter he enclosed the ruby ring she had
+given him. That ring had never left his finger, by sea or land, in
+sickness or health.
+
+The letter to Rosa was sealed. The two letters made quite a packet;
+for, in the letter to his beloved Rosa, he told her everything that had
+befallen him. It was a romance, and a picture of love; a letter to lift
+a loving woman to heaven, and almost reconcile her to all her bereaved
+heart had suffered.
+
+This letter, written with many tears from the heart that had so
+suffered, and was now softened by good fortune and bounding with joy,
+Staines entrusted to Falcon, together with the other diamonds, and with
+many warm shakings of the hand, started him on his way.
+
+“But mind, Falcon,” said Christopher, “I shall expect an answer from
+Mrs. Falcon in twenty days at farthest. I do not feel so sure as you
+do that she wants to go to England; and, if not, I must write to Uncle
+Philip. Give me your solemn promise, old fellow, an answer in twenty
+days--if you have to send a Kafir on horseback.”
+
+“I give you my honor,” said Falcon superbly.
+
+“Send it to me at Bulteel's Farm.”
+
+“All right. 'Dr. Christie, Bulteel's Farm.'”
+
+“Well--no. Why should I conceal my real name any longer from such
+friends as you and your wife? Christie is short for Christopher--that IS
+my Christian name; but my surname is Staines. Write to 'Dr. Staines.'”
+
+“Dr. Staines!”
+
+“Yes. Did you ever hear of me?”
+
+Falcon wore a strange look. “I almost think I have. Down at Gravesend,
+or somewhere.”
+
+“That is curious. Yes, I married my Rosa there; poor thing! God bless
+her; God comfort her. She thinks me dead.”
+
+His voice trembled, he grasped Falcon's cold hand till the latter winced
+again, and so they parted, and Falcon rode off muttering, “Dr. Staines!
+so then YOU are Dr. Staines.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+Rosa Staines had youth on her side, and it is an old saying that youth
+will not be denied. Youth struggled with death for her, and won the
+battle.
+
+But she came out of that terrible fight weak as a child. The sweet pale
+face, the widow's cap, the suit of deep black--it was long ere these
+came down from the sickroom. And when they did, oh, the dead blank!
+The weary, listless life! The days spent in sighs, and tears, and
+desolation. Solitude! solitude! Her husband was gone, and a strange
+woman played the mother to her child before her eyes.
+
+Uncle Philip was devotedly kind to her, and so was her father; but they
+could do nothing for her.
+
+Months rolled on, and skinned the wound over. Months could not heal. Her
+boy became dearer and dearer, and it was from him came the first real
+drops of comfort, however feeble.
+
+She used to read her lost one's diary every day, and worship, in deep
+sorrow, the mind she had scarcely respected until it was too late. She
+searched in his diary to find his will, and often she mourned that he
+had written on it so few things she could obey. Her desire to obey
+the dead, whom, living, she had often disobeyed, was really simple and
+touching. She would mourn to her father that there were so few commands
+to her in his diary. “But,” said she, “memory brings me back his will in
+many things, and to obey is now the only sad comfort I have.”
+
+It was in this spirit she now forced herself to keep accounts. No fear
+of her wearing stays now; no powder; no trimmings; no waste.
+
+After the usual delay, her father told her she should instruct a
+solicitor to apply to the insurance company for the six thousand
+pounds. She refused with a burst of agony. “The price of his life,” she
+screamed. “Never! I'd live on bread and water sooner than touch that
+vile money.”
+
+Her father remonstrated gently. But she was immovable. “No. It would be
+like consenting to his death.”
+
+Then Uncle Philip was sent for.
+
+He set her child on her knee; and gave her a pen. “Come,” said he,
+sternly, “be a woman, and do your duty to little Christie.”
+
+She kissed the boy, cried, and did her duty meekly. But when the money
+was brought her, she flew to Uncle Philip, and said, “There! there!”
+ and threw it all before him, and cried as if her heart would break. He
+waited patiently, and asked her what he was to do with all that: invest
+it?
+
+“Yes, yes; for my little Christie.”
+
+“And pay you the interest quarterly.”
+
+“Oh, no, no. Dribble us out a little as we want it. That is the way to
+be truly kind to a simpleton. I hate that word.”
+
+“And suppose I run off with it? Such confiding geese as you corrupt a
+man.”
+
+“I shall never corrupt you. Crusty people are the soul of honor.”
+
+“Crusty people!” cried Philip, affecting amazement. “What are they?”
+
+She bit her lip and colored a little; but answered adroitly, “They are
+people that pretend not to have good hearts, but have the best in the
+world; far better ones than your smooth ones: that's crusty people.”
+
+“Very well,” said Philip; “and I'll tell you what simpletons are. They
+are little transparent-looking creatures that look shallow, but are as
+deep as Old Nick, and make you love them in spite of your judgment.
+They are the most artful of their sex; for they always achieve its great
+object, to be loved--the very thing that clever women sometimes fail
+in.”
+
+“Well, and if we are not to be loved, why live at all--such useless
+things as I am?” said Rosa simply.
+
+So Philip took charge of her money, and agreed to help her save money
+for her little Christopher. Poverty should never destroy him, as it had
+his father.
+
+As months rolled on, she crept out into public a little; but always on
+foot, and a very little way from home.
+
+Youth and sober life gradually restored her strength, but not her color,
+nor her buoyancy.
+
+Yet she was perhaps more beautiful than ever; for a holy sorrow
+chastened and sublimed her features: it was now a sweet, angelic,
+pensive beauty, that interested every feeling person at a glance.
+
+She would visit no one; but a twelvemonth after her bereavement, she
+received a few chosen visitors.
+
+One day a young gentleman called, and sent up his card, “Lord
+Tadcaster,” with a note from Lady Cicely Treherne, full of kindly
+feeling. Uncle Philip had reconciled her to Lady Cicely; but they had
+never met.
+
+Mrs. Staines was much agitated at the very name of Lord Tadcaster; but
+she would not have missed seeing him for the world.
+
+She received him with her beautiful eyes wide open, to drink in every
+lineament of one who had seen the last of her Christopher.
+
+Tadcaster was wonderfully improved: he had grown six inches out at sea,
+and though still short, was not diminutive; he was a small Apollo, a
+model of symmetry, and had an engaging, girlish beauty, redeemed from
+downright effeminacy by a golden mustache like silk, and a tanned cheek
+that became him wonderfully.
+
+He seemed dazzled at first by Mrs. Staines, but murmured that Lady
+Cicely had told him to come, or he would not have ventured.
+
+“Who can be so welcome to me as you?” said she, and the tears came thick
+in her eyes directly.
+
+Soon, he hardly knew how, he found himself talking of Staines, and
+telling her what a favorite he was, and all the clever things he had
+done.
+
+The tears streamed down her cheeks, but she begged him to go on telling
+her, and omit nothing.
+
+He complied heartily, and was even so moved by the telling of his
+friend's virtues, and her tears and sobs, that he mingled his tears with
+hers. She rewarded him by giving him her hand as she turned away her
+tearful face to indulge the fresh burst of grief his sympathy evoked.
+
+When he was leaving, she said, in her simple way, “Bless you”--“Come
+again,” she said: “you have done a poor widow good.”
+
+Lord Tadcaster was so interested and charmed, he would gladly have
+come back next day to see her; but he restrained that extravagance, and
+waited a week.
+
+Then he visited her again. He had observed the villa was not rich
+in flowers, and he took her down a magnificent bouquet, cut from his
+father's hot-houses. At sight of him, or at sight of it, or both, the
+color rose for once in her pale cheek, and her pensive face wore a sweet
+expression of satisfaction. She took his flowers, and thanked him for
+them, and for coming to see her.
+
+Soon they got on the only topic she cared for, and, in the course of
+this second conversation, he took her into his confidence, and told her
+he owed everything to Dr. Staines. “I was on the wrong road altogether,
+and he put me right. To tell you the truth, I used to disobey him now
+and then, while he was alive, and I was always the worse for it; now he
+is gone, I never disobey him. I have written down a lot of wise, kind
+things he said to me, and I never go against any one of them. I call it
+my book of oracles. Dear me, I might have brought it with me.”
+
+“Oh, yes! why didn't you?” rather reproachfully.
+
+“I will bring it next time.”
+
+“Pray do.”
+
+Then she looked at him with her lovely swimming eyes, and said tenderly,
+“And so here is another that disobeyed him living, but obeys him dead.
+What will you think when I tell you that I, his wife, who now worship
+him when it is too late, often thwarted and vexed him when he was
+alive?”
+
+“No, no. He told me you were an angel, and I believe it.”
+
+“An angel! a good-for-nothing, foolish woman, who sees everything too
+late.”
+
+“Nobody else should say so before me,” said the little gentleman
+grandly. “I shall take HIS word before yours on this one subject. If
+ever there was an angel, you are one; and oh, what would I give if I
+could but say or do anything in the world to comfort you!”
+
+“You can do nothing for ME, dear, but come and see me often, and talk to
+me as you do--on the one sad theme my broken heart has room for.”
+
+This invitation delighted Lord Tadcaster, and the sweet word “dear,”
+ from her lovely lips, entered his heart, and ran through all his veins
+like some rapturous but dangerous elixir. He did not say to himself,
+“She is a widow with a child, feels old with grief, and looks on me as a
+boy who has been kind to her.” Such prudence and wariness were hardly to
+be expected from his age. He had admired her at first sight, very nearly
+loved her at their first interview, and now this sweet word opened a
+heavenly vista. The generous heart that beat in his small frame burned
+to console her with a life-long devotion and all the sweet offices of
+love.
+
+He ordered his yacht to Gravesend--for he had become a sailor--and
+then he called on Mrs. Staines, and told her, with a sort of sheepish
+cunning, that now, as his yacht HAPPENED to be at Gravesend, he could
+come and see her very often. He watched her timidly, to see how she
+would take that proposition.
+
+She said, with the utmost simplicity, “I'm very glad of it.”
+
+Then he produced his oracles; and she devoured them. Such precepts to
+Tadcaster as she could apply to her own case she instantly noted in her
+memory, and they became her law from that moment.
+
+Then, in her simplicity, she said, “And I will show you some things, in
+his own handwriting, that may be good for you; but I can't show you
+the whole book: some of it is sacred from every eye but his wife's. His
+wife's? Ah me! his widow's.”
+
+Then she pointed out passages in the diary that she thought might be for
+his good; and he nestled to her side, and followed her white finger with
+loving eyes, and was in an elysium--which she would certainly have put
+a stop to at that time, had she divined it. But all wisdom does not come
+at once to an unguarded woman. Rosa Staines was wiser about her husband
+than she had been, but she had plenty to learn.
+
+Lord Tadcaster anchored off Gravesend, and visited Mrs. Staines nearly
+every day. She received him with a pleasure that was not at all lively,
+but quite undisguised. He could not doubt his welcome; for once, when he
+came, she said to the servant, “Not at home,” a plain proof she did not
+wish his visit to be cut short by any one else.
+
+And so these visits and devoted attentions of every kind went on
+unobserved by Lord Tadcaster's friends, because Rosa would never go out,
+even with him; but at last Mr. Lusignan saw plainly how this would end,
+unless he interfered.
+
+Well, he did not interfere; on the contrary, he was careful to avoid
+putting his daughter on her guard: he said to himself, “Lord Tadcaster
+does her good. I'm afraid she would not marry him, if he was to ask her
+now; but in time she might. She likes him a great deal better than any
+one else.”
+
+As for Philip, he was abroad for his own health, somewhat impaired by
+his long and faithful attendance on Rosa.
+
+So now Lord Tadcaster was in constant attendance on Rosa. She was
+languid, but gentle and kind; and, as mourners, like invalids, are apt
+to be egotistical, she saw nothing but that he was a comfort to her in
+her affliction.
+
+While matters were so, the Earl of Miltshire, who had long been sinking,
+died, and Tadcaster succeeded to his honors and estates.
+
+Rosa heard of it, and, thinking it was a great bereavement, wrote him
+one of those exquisite letters of condolence a lady alone can write. He
+took it to Lady Cicely, and showed it her. She highly approved it.
+
+He said, “The only thing--it makes me ashamed, I do not feel my poor
+father's death more; but you know it has been so long expected.” Then
+he was silent a long time; and then he asked her if such a woman as that
+would not make him happy, if he could win her.
+
+It was on her ladyship's tongue to say, “She did not make her first
+happy;” but she forbore, and said coldly, that was maw than she could
+say.
+
+Tadcaster seemed disappointed by that, and by and by Cicely took herself
+to task. She asked herself what were Tadcaster's chances in the lottery
+of wives. The heavy army of scheming mothers, and the light cavalry of
+artful daughters, rose before her cousinly and disinterested eyes,
+and she asked herself what chance poor little Tadcaster would have
+of catching a true love, with a hundred female artists manoeuvring,
+wheeling, ambuscading, and charging upon his wealth and titles. She
+returned to the subject of her own accord, and told him she saw but one
+objection to such a match: the lady had a son by a man of rare merit and
+misfortune. Could he, at his age, undertake to be a father to that son?
+“Othahwise,” said Lady Cicely, “mark my words, you will quall over that
+poor child; and you will have two to quall with, because I shall be on
+her side.”
+
+Tadcaster declared to her that child should be quite the opposite of a
+bone of contention. “I have thought of that,” said he, “and I mean to be
+so kind to that boy, I shall MAKE her love me for that.”
+
+On these terms Lady Cicely gave her consent.
+
+Then he asked her should he write, or ask her in person.
+
+Lady Cicely reflected. “If you write, I think she will say no.”
+
+“But if I go?”
+
+“Then, it will depend on how you do it. Rosa Staines is a true mourner.
+Whatever you may think, I don't believe the idea of a second union has
+ever entered her head. But then she is very unselfish: and she likes you
+better than any one else, I dare say. I don't think your title or your
+money will weigh with her now. But, if you show her your happiness
+depends on it, she may, perhaps, cwy and sob at the very idea of it,
+and then, after all, say, 'Well, why not--if I can make the poor soul
+happy?'”
+
+So, on this advice, Tadcaster went down to Gravesend, and Lady Cicely
+felt a certain self-satisfaction; for, her well-meant interference
+having lost Rosa one husband, she was pleased to think she had done
+something to give her another.
+
+Lord Tadcaster came to Rosa Staines; he found her seated with her head
+upon her white hand, thinking sadly of the past.
+
+At sight of him in deep mourning, she started, and said, “Oh!”
+
+Then she said tenderly, “We are of one color now,” and gave him her
+hand.
+
+He sat down beside her, not knowing how to begin.
+
+“I am not Tadcaster now. I am Earl of Miltshire.”
+
+“Ah, yes; I forgot,” said she indifferently.
+
+“This is my first visit to any one in that character.”
+
+“Thank you.”
+
+“It is an awfully important visit to me. I could not feel myself
+independent, and able to secure your comfort and little Christie's,
+without coming to the lady, the only lady I ever saw, that--oh, Mrs.
+Staines--Rosa--who could see you, as I have done--mingle his tears
+with yours, as I have done, and not love you, and long to offer you his
+love?”
+
+“Love! to me, a broken-hearted woman, with nothing to live for but his
+memory and his child.”
+
+She looked at him with a sort of scared amazement.
+
+“His child shall be mine. His memory is almost as dear to me as to you.”
+
+“Nonsense, child, nonsense!” said she, almost sternly.
+
+“Was he not my best friend? Should I have the health I enjoy, or even be
+alive, but for him? Oh, Mrs. Staines--Rosa, you will not live all your
+life unmarried; and who will love you as I do? You are my first and only
+love. My happiness depends on you.”
+
+“Your happiness depend on me! Heaven forbid--a woman of my age, that
+feels so old, old, old.”
+
+“You are not old; you are young, and sad, and beautiful, and my
+happiness depends on you.” She began to tremble a little. Then he
+kneeled at her knees, and implored her, and his hot tears fell upon the
+hand she put out to stop him, while she turned her head away, and the
+tears began to run.
+
+Oh! never can the cold dissecting pen tell what rushes over the heart
+that has loved and lost, when another true love first kneels and
+implores for love, or pity, or anything the bereaved can give.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+When Falcon went, luck seemed to desert their claim: day after day went
+by without a find; and the discoveries on every side made this the more
+mortifying.
+
+By this time the diggers at Bulteel's pan were as miscellaneous as the
+audience at Drury Lane Theatre, only mixed more closely; the gallery
+folk and the stalls worked cheek by jowl. Here a gentleman with an
+affected lisp, and close by an honest fellow, who could not deliver a
+sentence without an oath, or some still more horrible expletive that
+meant nothing at all in reality, but served to make respectable flesh
+creep: interspersed with these, Hottentots, Kafirs, and wild blue blacks
+gayly clad in an ostrich feather, a scarlet ribbon, and a Tower musket
+sold them by some good Christian for a modern rifle.
+
+On one side of Staines were two swells, who lay on their backs and
+talked opera half the day, but seldom condescended to work without
+finding a diamond of some sort.
+
+After a week's deplorable luck, his Kafir boy struck work on account of
+a sore in his leg; the sore was due to a very common cause, the burning
+sand had got into a scratch, and festered. Staines, out of humanity,
+examined the sore; and proceeding to clean it, before bandaging, out
+popped a diamond worth forty pounds, even in the depreciated market.
+Staines quietly pocketed it, and bandaged the leg. This made him suspect
+his blacks had been cheating him on a large scale, and he borrowed Hans
+Bulteel to watch them, giving him a third, with which Master Hans was
+mightily pleased. But they could only find small diamonds, and by this
+time prodigious slices of luck were reported on every side. Kafirs and
+Boers that would not dig, but traversed large tracts of ground when the
+sun was shining, stumbled over diamonds. One Boer pointed to a wagon
+and eight oxen, and said that one lucky glance on the sand had given him
+that lot: but day after day Staines returned home, covered with dust,
+and almost blinded, yet with little or nothing to show for it.
+
+One evening, complaining of his change of luck, Bulteel quietly proposed
+to him migration. “I am going,” said he resignedly: “and you can come
+with me.”
+
+“You leave your farm, sir? Why, they pay you ten shillings a claim, and
+that must make a large return; the pan is fifteen acres.”
+
+“Yes, mine vriend,” said the poor Hollander, “they pay; but deir money
+it cost too dear. Vere is mine peace? Dis farm is six tousand acres.
+If de cursed diamonds was farther off, den it vas vell. But dey are too
+near. Once I could smoke in peace, and zleep. Now diamonds is come, and
+zleep and peace is fled. Dere is four tousand tents, and to each tent a
+dawg; dat dawg bark at four tousand other dawgs all night, and dey bark
+at him and at each oder. Den de masters of de dawgs dey get angry, and
+fire four tousand pistole at de four tousand dawgs, and make my bed
+shake wid the trembling of mine vrow. My vamily is with diamonds
+infected. Dey vill not vork. Dey takes long valks, and always looks on
+de ground. Mine childre shall be hump-backed, round-shouldered, looking
+down for diamonds. Dey shall forget Gott. He is on high: dere eyes are
+always on de earth. De diggers found a diamond in mine plaster of mine
+wall of mine house. Dat plaster vas limestone; it come from dose kopjes
+de good Gott made in His anger against man for his vickedness. I zay so.
+Dey not believe me. Dey tink dem abominable stones grow in mine house,
+and break out in mine plaster like de measle: dey vaunt to dig in mine
+wall, in mine garden, in mine floor. One day dey shall dig in mine body.
+I vill go. Better I love peace dan money. Here is English company make
+me offer for mine varm. Dey forgive de diamonds.”
+
+“You have not accepted it?” cried Staines in alarm.
+
+“No, but I vill. I have said I shall tink of it. Dat is my vay. So I say
+yah.”
+
+“An English company? They will cheat you without mercy. No, they shall
+not, though, for I will have a hand in the bargain.”
+
+He set to work directly, added up the value of the claims, at ten
+shillings per month, and amazed the poor Hollander by his statement of
+the value of those fifteen acres, capitalized.
+
+And to close this part of the subject, the obnoxious diamonds obtained
+him three times as much as his father had given for the whole six
+thousand acres.
+
+The company got a great bargain, but Bulteel received what for him was a
+large capital, and settling far to the south, this lineal descendant of
+le philosophe sans savoir carried his godliness, his cleanliness, and
+his love of peace, out of the turmoil, and was happier than ever, since
+now he could compare his placid existence with one year of noise and
+clamor.
+
+But long before this, events more pertinent to my story had occurred.
+
+One day, a Hottentot came into Bulteel's farm and went out among the
+diggers, till he found Staines. The Hottentot was one employed at Dale's
+Kloof, and knew him. He brought Staines a letter.
+
+Staines opened the letter, and another letter fell out; it was directed
+to “Reginald Falcon, Esq.”
+
+“Why,” thought Staines, “what a time this letter must have been on the
+road! So much for private messengers.”
+
+The letter ran thus:--
+
+
+DEAR SIR,--This leaves us all well at Dale's Kloof, as I hope it shall
+find you and my dear husband at the diggings. Sir, I am happy to say I
+have good news for you. When you got well by God's mercy, I wrote to
+the doctor at the hospital and told him so. I wrote unbeknown to you,
+because I had promised him. Well, sir, he has written back to say you
+have two hundred pounds in money, and a great many valuable things, such
+as gold and jewels. They are all at the old bank in Cape Town, and the
+cashier has seen you, and will deliver them on demand. So that is the
+first of my good news, because it is good news to you. But, dear sir,
+I think you will be pleased to hear that Dick and I are thriving
+wonderfully, thanks to your good advice. The wooden house it is built,
+and a great oven. But, sir, the traffic came almost before we were
+ready, and the miners that call here, coming and going, every day, you
+would not believe, likewise wagons and carts. It is all bustle, morn
+till night, and dear Reginald will never be dull here now; I hope you
+will be so kind as tell him so, for I do long to see you both home
+again.
+
+Sir, we are making our fortunes. The grain we could not sell at a fair
+price, we sell as bread, and higher than in England ever so much. Tea
+and coffee the same; and the poor things praise us, too, for being so
+moderate. So, sir, Dick bids me say that we owe this to you, and if
+so be you are minded to share, why nothing would please us better.
+Head-piece is always worth money in these parts; and if it hurts your
+pride to be our partner without money, why you can throw in what you
+have at the Cape, though we don't ask that. And, besides, we are offered
+diamonds a bargain every day, but are afraid to deal, for want of
+experience; but if you were in it with us, you must know them well by
+this time, and we might turn many a good pound that way. Dear sir, I
+hope you will not be offended, but I think this is the only way we have,
+Dick and I, to show our respect and good-will.
+
+Dear sir, digging is hard work, and not fit for you and Reginald, that
+are gentlemen, amongst a lot of rough fellows, that their talk makes my
+hair stand on end, though I dare say they mean no harm.
+
+Your bedroom is always ready, sir. I never will let it to any of them,
+hoping now to see you every day. You that know everything, can guess
+how I long to see you both home. My very good fortune seems not to taste
+like good fortune, without those I love and esteem to share it. I shall
+count how many days this letter will take to reach you, and then I shall
+pray for your safety harder than ever, till the blessed hour comes when
+I see my husband, and my good friend, never to part again, I hope, in
+this world.
+
+I am sir, your dutiful servant and friend,
+
+PHOEBE DALE.
+
+P.S. There is regular travelling to and from Cape Town, and a post now
+to Pniel, but I thought it surest to send by one that knows you.
+
+
+Staines read this letter with great satisfaction. He remembered his two
+hundred pounds, but his gold and jewels puzzled him. Still it was good
+news, and pleased him not a little. Phoebe's good fortune gratified
+him too, and her offer of a partnership, especially in the purchase of
+diamonds from returning diggers. He saw a large fortune to be made;
+and wearied and disgusted with recent ill-luck, blear-eyed and almost
+blinded with sorting in the blazing sun, he resolved to go at once to
+Dale's Kloof. Should Mrs. Falcon be gone to England with the diamonds,
+he would stay there, and Rosa should come out to him, or he would go and
+fetch her.
+
+He went home, and washed himself, and told Bulteel he had had good news,
+and should leave the diggings at once. He gave him up the claim, and
+told him to sell it by auction. It was worth two hundred pounds still.
+The good people sympathized with him, and he started within an hour.
+He left his pickaxe and shovel, and took only his double rifle, an
+admirable one, some ammunition, including conical bullets and projectile
+shells given him by Falcon, a bag full of carbuncles and garnets he
+had collected for Ucatella, a few small diamonds, and one hundred
+pounds,--all that remained to him, since he had been paying wages and
+other things for months, and had given Falcon twenty for his journey.
+
+He rode away and soon put twenty miles between him and the diggings.
+
+He came to a little store that bought diamonds and sold groceries and
+tobacco. He haltered his horse to a hook, and went in. He offered a
+small diamond for sale. The master was out, and the assistant said there
+was a glut of these small stones, he did not care to give money for it.
+
+“Well, give me three dozen cigars.”
+
+While they were chaffering, in walked a Hottentot, and said, “Will you
+buy this?” and laid a clear, glittering stone on the counter, as large
+as a walnut.
+
+“Yes,” said the young man. “How much?”
+
+“Two hundred pounds.”
+
+“Two hundred pounds! Let us look at it;” he examined it, and said he
+thought it was a diamond, but these large stones were so deceitful, he
+dared not give two hundred pounds. “Come again in an hour,” said he,
+“then the master will be in.”
+
+“No,” said the Hottentot quietly, and walked out.
+
+Staines, who had been literally perspiring at the sight of this stone,
+mounted his horse and followed the man. When he came up to him, he asked
+leave to examine the gem. The Hottentot quietly assented.
+
+Staines looked at it all over. It had a rough side and a polished side,
+and the latter was of amazing softness and lustre. It made him tremble.
+He said, “Look here, I have only one hundred pounds in my pocket.”
+
+The Hottentot shook his head.
+
+“But if you will go back with me to Bulteel's farm, I'll borrow the
+other hundred.”
+
+The Hottentot declined, and told him he could get four hundred pounds
+for it by going back to Pniel. “But,” said he, “my face is turned so;
+and when Squat turn his face so, he going home. Not can bear go the
+other way then,” and he held out his hand for the diamond.
+
+Staines gave it him, and was in despair at seeing such a prize so near,
+yet leaving him.
+
+He made one more effort. “Well, but,” said he, “how far are you going
+this way?”
+
+“Ten days.”
+
+“Why, so am I. Come with me to Dale's Kloof, and I will give the other
+hundred. See, I am in earnest, for here is one hundred, at all events.”
+
+Staines made this proposal, trembling with excitement. To his surprise
+and joy, the Hottentot assented, though with an air of indifference;
+and on these terms they became fellow-travellers, and Staines gave him
+a cigar. They went on side by side, and halted for the night forty miles
+from Bulteel's farm.
+
+They slept in a Boer's out-house, and the vrow was civil, and lent
+Staines a jackal's skin. In the morning he bought it for a diamond, a
+carbuncle, and a score of garnets; for a horrible thought had occurred
+to him, if they stopped at any place where miners were, somebody might
+buy the great diamond over his head. This fear, and others, grew on him,
+and with all his philosophy he went on thorns, and was the slave of the
+diamond.
+
+He resolved to keep his Hottentot all to himself if possible. He shot
+a springbok that crossed the road, and they roasted a portion of the
+animal, and the Hottentot carried some on with him.
+
+Seeing he admired the rifle, Staines offered it him for the odd hundred
+pounds; but though Squat's eye glittered a moment, he declined.
+
+Finding that they met too many diggers and carts, Staines asked his
+Hottentot was there no nearer way to reach that star, pointing to one he
+knew was just over Dale's Kloof.
+
+Oh, yes, he knew a nearer way, where there were trees, and shade, and
+grass, and many beasts to shoot.
+
+“Let us take that way,” said Staines.
+
+The Hottentot, ductile as wax, except about the price of the diamond,
+assented calmly; and next day they diverged, and got into forest
+scenery, and their eyes were soothed with green glades here and there,
+wherever the clumps of trees sheltered the grass from the panting sun.
+Animals abounded, and were tame. Staines, an excellent marksman, shot
+the Hottentot his supper without any trouble.
+
+Sleeping in the wood, with not a creature near but Squat, a sombre
+thought struck Staines. Suppose this Hottentot should assassinate him
+for his money, who would ever know? The thought was horrible, and he
+awoke with a start ten times that night. The Hottentot slept like a
+stone, and never feared for his own life and precious booty. Staines was
+compelled to own to himself he had less faith in human goodness than the
+savage had. He said to himself, “He is my superior. He is the master of
+this dreadful diamond, and I am its slave.”
+
+Next day they went on till noon, and then they halted at a really
+delightful spot; a silver kloof ran along a bottom, and there was a
+little clump of three acacia-trees that lowered their long tresses,
+pining for the stream, and sometimes getting a cool grateful kiss from
+it when the water was high.
+
+They halted the horse, bathed in the stream, and lay luxurious under the
+acacias. All was delicious languor and enjoyment of life.
+
+The Hottentot made a fire, and burnt the remains of a little sort of
+kangaroo Staines had shot him the evening before; but it did not suffice
+his maw, and looking about him, he saw three elands leisurely feeding
+about three hundred yards off. They were cropping the rich herbage close
+to the shelter of a wood.
+
+The Hottentot suggested that this was an excellent opportunity. He would
+borrow Staines's rifle, steal into the wood, crawl on his belly close up
+to them, and send a bullet through one.
+
+Staines did not relish the proposal. He had seen the savage's eye
+repeatedly gloat on the rifle, and was not without hopes he might even
+yet relent, and give the great diamond for the hundred pounds and
+this rifle; and he was so demoralized by the diamond, and filled with
+suspicion, that he feared the savage, if he once had the rifle in
+his possession, might levant, and be seen no more, in which case he,
+Staines, still the slave of the diamond, might hang himself on the
+nearest tree, and so secure his Rosa the insurance money, at all events.
+In short, he had really diamond on the brain.
+
+He hem'd and haw'd a little at Squat's proposal, and then got out of it
+by saying, “That is not necessary. I can shoot it from here.”
+
+“It is too far,” objected Blacky.
+
+“Too far! This is an Enfield rifle. I could kill the poor beast at three
+times that distance.”
+
+Blacky was amazed. “An Enfield rifle,” said he, in the soft musical
+murmur of his tribe, which is the one charm of the poor Hottentot; “and
+shoot three times SO far.”
+
+“Yes,” said Christopher. Then, seeing his companion's hesitation, he
+conceived a hope. “If I kill that eland from here, will you give me the
+diamond for my horse and the wonderful rifle?--no Hottentot has such a
+rifle.”
+
+Squat became cold directly. “The price of the diamond is two hundred
+pounds.”
+
+Staines groaned with disappointment, and thought to himself with rage,
+“Anybody but me would club the rifle, give the obstinate black brute a
+stunner, and take the diamond--God forgive me!”
+
+Says the Hottentot cunningly, “I can't think so far as white man. Let me
+see the eland dead, and then I shall know how far the rifle shoot.”
+
+“Very well,” said Staines. But he felt sure the savage only wanted his
+meal, and would never part with the diamond, except for the odd money.
+
+However, he loaded his left barrel with one of the explosive projectiles
+Falcon had given him; it was a little fulminating shell with a steel
+point. It was with this barrel he had shot the murcat overnight, and he
+had found he shot better with this barrel than the other. He loaded his
+left barrel then, saw the powder well up, capped it and cut away a strip
+of the acacia with his knife to see clear, and lying down in volunteer
+fashion, elbow on ground, drew his bead steadily on an eland who
+presented him her broadside, her back being turned to the wood. The sun
+shone on her soft coat, and never was a fairer mark, the sportsman's
+deadly eye being in the cool shade, the animal in the sun.
+
+He aimed long and steadily. But just as he was about to pull the
+trigger, Mind interposed, and he lowered the deadly weapon. “Poor
+creature!” he said, “I am going to take her life--for what? for a single
+meal. She is as big as a pony; and I am to lay her carcass on the plain,
+that we may eat two pounds of it. This is how the weasel kills the
+rabbit; sucks an ounce of blood for his food, and wastes the rest. So
+the demoralized sheep-dog tears out the poor creature's kidneys, and
+wastes the rest. Man, armed by science with such powers of slaying,
+should be less egotistical than weasels and perverted sheep-dogs. I will
+not kill her. I will not lay that beautiful body of hers low, and glaze
+those tender, loving eyes that never gleamed with hate or rage at man,
+and fix those innocent jaws that never bit the life out of anything, not
+even of the grass she feeds on, and does it more good than harm. Feed
+on, poor innocent. And you be blanked; you and your diamond, that I
+begin to wish I had never seen; for it would corrupt an angel.”
+
+Squat understood one word in ten, but he managed to reply. “This is
+nonsense-talk,” said he, gravely. “The life is no bigger in that than in
+the murcat you shot last shoot.”
+
+“No more it is,” said Staines. “I am a fool. It is come to this,
+then; Kafirs teach us theology, and Hottentots morality. I bow to my
+intellectual superior. I'll shoot the eland.” He raised his rifle again.
+
+“No, no, no, no, no, no,” murmured the Hottentot, in a sweet voice
+scarcely audible, yet so keen in its entreaty, that Staines turned
+hastily round to look at him. His face was ashy, his teeth chattering,
+his limbs shaking. Before Staines could ask him what was the matter,
+he pointed through an aperture of the acacias into the wood hard by the
+elands. Staines looked, and saw what seemed to him like a very long dog,
+or some such animal, crawling from tree to tree. He did not at all
+share the terror of his companion, nor understand it. But a terrible
+explanation followed. This creature, having got to the skirt of the
+wood, expanded, by some strange magic, to an incredible size, and sprang
+into the open, with a growl, a mighty lion; he seemed to ricochet from
+the ground, so immense was his second bound, that carried him to the
+eland, and he struck her one blow on the head with his terrible paw, and
+felled her as if with a thunderbolt: down went her body, with all the
+legs doubled, and her poor head turned over, and the nose kissed the
+ground. The lion stood motionless. Presently the eland, who was not
+dead, but stunned, began to recover and struggle feebly up. Then the
+lion sprang on her with a roar, and rolled her over, and with two
+tremendous bites and a shake, tore her entrails out and laid her dying.
+He sat composedly down, and contemplated her last convulsions, without
+touching her again.
+
+At this roar, though not loud, the horse, though he had never heard or
+seen a lion, trembled, and pulled at his halter.
+
+Blacky crept into the water; and Staines was struck with such an awe as
+he had never felt. Nevertheless, the king of beasts being at a distance,
+and occupied, and Staines a brave man, and out of sight, he kept
+his ground and watched, and by those means saw a sight never to be
+forgotten. The lion rose up, and stood in the sun incredibly beautiful
+as well as terrible. He was not the mangy hue of the caged lion, but a
+skin tawny, golden, glossy as a race-horse, and of exquisite tint that
+shone like pure gold in the sun; his eye a lustrous jewel of richest
+hue, and his mane sublime. He looked towards the wood, and uttered a
+full roar. This was so tremendous that the horse shook all over as if in
+an ague, and began to lather. Staines recoiled, and his flesh crept, and
+the Hottentot went under water, and did not emerge for ever so long.
+
+After a pause, the lion roared again, and all the beasts and birds of
+prey seemed to know the meaning of that terrible roar. Till then the
+place had been a solitude, but now it began to fill in the strangest
+way, as if the lord of the forest could call all his subjects together
+with a trumpet roar: first came two lion cubs, to whom, in fact, the
+roar had been addressed. The lion rubbed himself several times against
+the eland, but did not eat a morsel, and the cubs went in and feasted
+on the prey. The lion politely and paternally drew back, and watched the
+young people enjoying themselves.
+
+Meantime approached, on tiptoe, jackals and hyenas, but dared not come
+too near. Slate-colored vultures settled at a little distance, but not
+a soul dared interfere with the cubs; they saw the lion was acting
+sentinel, and they knew better than come near.
+
+After a time, papa feared for the digestion of those brats, or else his
+own mouth watered; for he came up, knocked them head over heels with his
+velvet paw, and they took the gentle hint, and ran into the wood double
+quick.
+
+Then the lion began tearing away at the eland, and bolting huge morsels
+greedily. This made the rabble's mouth water. The hyenas, and jackals,
+and vultures formed a circle ludicrous to behold, and that circle kept
+narrowing as the lion tore away at his prey. They increased in number,
+and at last hunger overcame prudence; the rear rank shoved on the front,
+as amongst men, and a general attack seemed imminent.
+
+Then the lion looked up at these invaders, uttered a reproachful growl,
+and went at them, patting them right and left, and knocking them over.
+He never touched a vulture, nor indeed did he kill an animal. He was a
+lion, and only killed to eat; yet he soon cleared the place, because
+he knocked over a few hyenas and jackals, and the rest, being active,
+tumbled over the vultures before they could spread their heavy wings.
+After this warning, they made a respectful circle again, through which,
+in due course, the gorged lion stalked into the wood.
+
+A savage's sentiments change quickly, and the Hottentot, fearing little
+from a full lion, was now giggling at Staines's side. Staines asked him
+which he thought was the lord of all creatures, a man or a lion.
+
+“A lion,” said Blacky, amazed at such a shallow question.
+
+Staines now got up, and proposed to continue their journey. But Blacky
+was for waiting till the lion was gone to sleep after his meal.
+
+While they discussed the question, the lion burst out of the wood
+within hearing of their voices, as his pricked-up ears showed, and made
+straight for them at a distance of scarcely thirty yards.
+
+Now, the chances are, the lion knew nothing about them, and only came to
+drink at the kloof, after his meal, and perhaps lie under the acacias:
+but who can think calmly, when his first lion bursts out on him a few
+paces off? Staines shouldered his rifle, took a hasty, flurried aim, and
+sent a bullet at him.
+
+If he had missed him, perhaps the report might have turned the lion; but
+he wounded him, and not mortally. Instantly the enraged beast uttered
+a terrific roar, and came at him with his mane distended with rage, his
+eyes glaring, his mouth open, and his whole body dilated with fury.
+
+At that terrible moment, Staines recovered his wits enough to see that
+what little chance he had was to fire into the destroyer, not at him. He
+kneeled, and levelled at the centre of the lion's chest, and not till he
+was within five yards did he fire. Through the smoke he saw the lion in
+the air above him, and rolled shrieking into the stream and crawled like
+a worm under the bank, by one motion, and there lay trembling. A few
+seconds of sick stupor passed: all was silent. Had the lion lost him?
+Was it possible he might yet escape?
+
+All was silent.
+
+He listened, in agony, for the sniffing of the lion, puzzling him out by
+scent.
+
+No: all was silent.
+
+Staines looked round, and saw a woolly head, and two saucer eyes and
+open nostrils close by him. It was the Hottentot, more dead than alive.
+
+Staines whispered him, “I think he is gone.”
+
+The Hottentot whispered, “Gone a little way to watch. He is wise as well
+as strong.” With this he disappeared beneath the water.
+
+Still no sound but the screaming of the vultures, and snarling of the
+hyenas and jackals over the eland.
+
+“Take a look,” said Staines.
+
+“Yes,” said Squat; “but not to-day. Wait here a day or two. Den he
+forget and forgive.”
+
+Now Staines, having seen the lion lie down and watch the dying eland,
+was a great deal impressed by this; and as he had now good hopes of
+saving his life, he would not throw away a chance. He kept his head just
+above water, and never moved.
+
+In this freezing situation they remained.
+
+Presently there was a rustling that made both crouch.
+
+It was followed by a croaking noise.
+
+Christopher made himself small.
+
+The Hottentot, on the contrary, raised his head, and ventured a little
+way into the stream.
+
+By these means he saw it was something very foul, but not terrible.
+It was a large vulture that had settled on the very top of the nearest
+acacia.
+
+At this the Hottentot got bolder still, and to the great surprise of
+Staines began to crawl cautiously into some rushes, and through them up
+the bank.
+
+The next moment he burst into a mixture of yelling and chirping and
+singing, and other sounds so manifestly jubilant, that the vulture
+flapped heavily away, and Staines emerged in turn, but very cautiously.
+
+Could he believe his eyes? There lay the lion, dead as a stone, on his
+back, with his four legs in the air, like wooden legs, they were so very
+dead: and the valiant Squat, dancing about him, and on him, and over
+him.
+
+Staines, unable to change his sentiments so quickly, eyed even the dead
+body of the royal beast with awe and wonder. What! had he already laid
+that terrible monarch low, and with a tube made in a London shop by men
+who never saw a lion spring, nor heard his awful roar shake the air?
+He stood with his heart still beating, and said not a word. The shallow
+Hottentot whipped out a large knife, and began to skin the king of
+beasts. Staines wondered he could so profane that masterpiece of nature.
+He felt more inclined to thank God for so great a preservation, and then
+pass reverently on, and leave the dead king undesecrated.
+
+He was roused from his solemn thoughts by the reflection that there
+might be a lioness about, since there were cubs: he took a piece of
+paper, emptied his remaining powder into it, and proceeded to dry it in
+the sun. This was soon done, and then he loaded both barrels.
+
+By this time the adroit Hottentot had flayed the carcass sufficiently
+to reveal the mortal injury. The projectile had entered the chest, and
+slanting upwards, had burst among the vitals, reducing them to a gory
+pulp. The lion must have died in the air, when he bounded on receiving
+the fatal shot.
+
+The Hottentot uttered a cry of admiration. “Not the lion king of all,
+nor even the white man,” he said; “but Enfeel rifle!”
+
+Staines's eyes glittered. “You shall have it, and the horse, for your
+diamond,” said he eagerly.
+
+The black seemed a little shaken; but did not reply. He got out of it
+by going on with his lion; and Staines eyed him, and was bitterly
+disappointed at not getting the diamond even on these terms. He began to
+feel he should never get it: they were near the high-road; he could not
+keep the Hottentot to himself much longer. He felt sick at heart. He had
+wild and wicked thoughts; half hoped the lioness would come and kill the
+Hottentot, and liberate the jewel that possessed his soul.
+
+At last the skin was off, and the Hottentot said, “Me take this to my
+kraal, and dey all say, 'Squat a great shooter; kill um lion.'”
+
+Then Staines saw another chance for him, and summoned all his address
+for a last effort. “No, Squat,” said he, “that skin belongs to me. I
+shot the lion, with the only rifle that can kill a lion like a cat. Yet
+you would not give me a diamond--a paltry stone for it. No, Squat, if
+you were to go into your village with that lion's skin, why the old men
+would bend their heads to you, and say, 'Great is Squat! He killed the
+lion, and wears his skin.' The young women would all fight which should
+be the wife of Squat. Squat would be king of the village.”
+
+Squat's eyes began to roll.
+
+“And shall I give the skin, and the glory that is my due, to an
+ill-natured fellow, who refuses me his paltry diamond for a
+good horse--look at him--and for the rifle that kills lions like
+rabbits--behold it; and a hundred pounds in good gold and Dutch
+notes--see; and for the lion's skin, and glory, and honor, and a rich
+wife, and to be king of Africa? Never!”
+
+The Hottentot's hands and toes began to work convulsively. “Good master,
+Squat ask pardon. Squat was blind. Squat will give the diamond, the
+great diamond of Africa, for the lion's skin, and the king rifle, and
+the little horse, and the gold, and Dutch notes every one of them. Dat
+make just two hundred pounds.”
+
+“More like four hundred,” cried Staines very loud. “And how do I know
+it is a diamond? These large stones are the most deceitful. Show it me,
+this instant,” said he imperiously.
+
+“Iss, master,” said the crushed Hottentot, with the voice of a mouse,
+and put the stone into his hand with a child-like faith that almost
+melted Staines; but he saw he must be firm. “Where did you find it?” he
+bawled.
+
+“Master,” said poor Squat, in deprecating tones, “my little master at
+the farm wanted plaster. He send to Bulteel's pan; dere was large lumps.
+Squat say to miners, 'May we take de large lumps? Dey say, 'Yes; take de
+cursed lumps we no can break.' We took de cursed lumps. We ride 'em in
+de cart to farm twenty milses. I beat 'em with my hammer. Dey is very
+hard. More dey break my heart dan I break their cursed heads. One day I
+use strong words, like white man, and I hit one large lump too hard; he
+break, and out come de white clear stone. Iss, him diamond. Long time we
+know him in our kraal, because he hard. Long time before ever white man
+know him, tousand years ago, we find him, and he make us lilly hole in
+big stone for make wheat dust. Him a diamond, blank my eyes!”
+
+This was intended as a solemn form of asseveration adapted to the white
+man's habits.
+
+Yes, reader, he told the truth; and strange to say, the miners knew
+the largest stones were in these great lumps of carbonate, but then the
+lumps were so cruelly hard, they lost all patience with them, and so,
+finding it was no use to break some of them, and not all, they rejected
+them all, with curses; and thus this great stone was carted away as
+rubbish from the mine, and found, like a toad in a hole, by Squat.
+
+“Well,” said Christopher, “after all, you are an honest fellow, and I
+think I will buy it; but first you must show me out of this wood; I am
+not going to be eaten alive in it for want of the king of rifles.”
+
+Squat assented eagerly, and they started at once. They passed the
+skeleton of the eland; its very bones were polished, and its head
+carried into the wood; and looking back they saw vultures busy on the
+lion. They soon cleared the wood.
+
+Squat handed Staines the diamond--when it touched his hand, as his
+own, a bolt of ice seemed to run down his back, and hot water to follow
+it--and the money, horse, rifle, and skin were made over to Squat.
+
+“Shake hands over it, Squat,” said Staines; “you are hard, but you are
+honest.”
+
+“Iss, master, I a good much hard and honest,” said Squat.
+
+“Good-by, old fellow.”
+
+“Good-by, master.”
+
+And Squat strutted away, with the halter in his hand, horse following
+him, rifle under his arm, and the lion's skin over his shoulders, and
+the tail trailing, a figure sublime in his own eyes, ridiculous in
+creation's. So vanity triumphed, even in the wilds of Africa.
+
+Staines hurried forward on foot, loading his revolver as he went, for
+the very vicinity of the wood alarmed him now that he had parted with
+his trusty rifle.
+
+That night he lay down on the open veldt, in his jackal's skin, with
+no weapon but his revolver, and woke with a start a dozen times. Just
+before daybreak he scanned the stars carefully, and noting exactly where
+the sun rose, made a rough guess at his course, and followed it till the
+sun was too hot; then he crept under a ragged bush, hung up his jackal's
+skin, and sweated there, parched with thirst, and gnawed with hunger.
+When it was cooler, he crept on, and found water, but no food. He was in
+torture, and began to be frightened, for he was in a desert. He found an
+ostrich egg and ate it ravenously.
+
+Next day, hunger took a new form, faintness. He could not walk for it;
+his jackal's skin oppressed him; he lay down exhausted. A horror seized
+his dejected soul. The diamond! It would be his death. No man must so
+long for any earthly thing as he had for this glittering traitor. “Oh!
+my good horse! my trusty rifle!” he cried. “For what have I thrown you
+away? For starvation. Misers have been found stretched over their gold;
+and some day my skeleton will be found, and nothing to tell the base
+death I died of and deserved; nothing but the cursed diamond. Ay, fiend,
+glare in my eyes, do!” He felt delirium creeping over him; and at that a
+new terror froze him. His reason, that he had lost once, was he to lose
+it again? He prayed; he wept; he dozed, and forgot all. When he woke
+again, a cool air was fanning his cheeks; it revived him a little; it
+became almost a breeze.
+
+And this breeze, as it happened, carried on its wings the curse of
+Africa. There loomed in the north-west a cloud of singular density, that
+seemed to expand in size as it drew nearer, yet to be still more
+solid, and darken the air. It seemed a dust-storm. Staines took out his
+handkerchief, prepared to wrap his face in it, not to be stifled.
+
+But soon there was a whirring and a whizzing, and hundreds of locusts
+flew over his head; they were followed by thousands, the swiftest of the
+mighty host. They thickened and thickened, till the air looked solid,
+and even that glaring sun was blackened by the rushing mass. Birds of
+all sorts whirled above, and swooped among them. They peppered Staines
+all over like shot. They stuck in his beard, and all over him; they
+clogged the bushes, carpeted the ground, while the darkened air sang
+as with the whirl of machinery. Every bird in the air, and beast of the
+field, granivorous or carnivorous, was gorged with them; and to these
+animals was added man, for Staines, being famished, and remembering the
+vrow Bulteel, lighted a fire, and roasted a handful or two on a
+flat stone; they were delicious. The fire once lighted, they cooked
+themselves, for they kept flying into it. Three hours, without
+interruption, did they darken nature, and, before the column ceased,
+all the beasts of the field came after, gorging them so recklessly, that
+Staines could have shot an antelope dead with his pistol within a yard
+of him.
+
+But to tell the horrible truth, the cooked locusts were so nice that he
+preferred to gorge on them along with the other animals.
+
+He roasted another lot, for future use, and marched on with a good
+heart.
+
+But now he got on some rough, scrubby ground, and damaged his shoes, and
+tore his trousers.
+
+This lasted a terrible distance; but at the end of it came the usual
+arid ground; and at last he came upon the track of wheels and hoofs.
+He struck it at an acute angle, and that showed him he had made a good
+line. He limped along it a little way, slowly, being footsore.
+
+By and by, looking back, he saw a lot of rough fellows swaggering along
+behind him. Then he was alarmed, terribly alarmed, for his diamond; he
+tore a strip of his handkerchief, and tied the stone cunningly under his
+armpit as he hobbled on.
+
+The men came up with him.
+
+“Hallo, mate! Come from the diggings?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“What luck?”
+
+“Very good.”
+
+“Haw! haw! What! found a fifty-carat? Show it us.”
+
+“We found five big stones, my mate and me. He is gone to Cape Town to
+sell them. I had no luck when he had left me, so I have cut it; going to
+turn farmer. Can you tell me how far it is to Dale's Kloof?”
+
+No, they could not tell him that. They swung on; and, to Staines, their
+backs were a cordial, as we say in Scotland.
+
+However, his travels were near an end. Next morning he saw Dale's Kloof
+in the distance; and as soon as the heat moderated, he pushed on,
+with one shoe and tattered trousers; and half an hour before sunset he
+hobbled up to the place.
+
+It was all bustle. Travellers at the door; their wagons and carts under
+a long shed.
+
+Ucatella was the first to see him coming, and came and fawned on him
+with delight. Her eyes glistened, her teeth gleamed. She patted both
+his cheeks, and then his shoulders, and even his knees, and then flew
+in-doors crying, “My doctor child is come home!” This amused three
+travellers, and brought out Dick, with a hearty welcome.
+
+“But Lordsake, sir, why have you come afoot; and a rough road too? Look
+at your shoes. Hallo! What is come of the horse?”
+
+“I exchanged him for a diamond.”
+
+“The deuce you did! And the rifle?”
+
+“Exchanged that for the same diamond.”
+
+“It ought to be a big 'un.”
+
+“It is.”
+
+Dick made a wry face. “Well, sir, you know best. You are welcome, on
+horse or afoot. You are just in time; Phoebe and me are just sitting
+down to dinner.”
+
+He took him into a little room they had built for their own privacy, for
+they liked to be quiet now and then, being country bred; and Phoebe was
+putting their dinner on the table, when Staines limped in.
+
+She gave a joyful cry, and turned red all over. “Oh, doctor!” Then his
+travel-torn appearance struck her. “But, dear heart! what a figure!
+Where's Reginald? Oh, he's not far off, I know.”
+
+And she flung open the window, and almost flew through it in a moment,
+to look for her husband.
+
+“Reginald?” said Staines. Then turning to Dick Dale, “Why, he is
+here--isn't he?”
+
+“No, sir: not without he is just come with you.”
+
+“With me?--no. You know we parted at the diggings. Come, Mr. Dale, he
+may not be here now; but he has been here. He must have been here.”
+
+Phoebe, who had not lost a word, turned round, with all her high color
+gone, and her cheeks getting paler and paler. “Oh, Dick! what is this?”
+
+“I don't understand it,” said Dick. “Whatever made you think he was
+here, sir?”
+
+“Why, I tell you he left me to come here.”
+
+“Left you, sir!” faltered Phoebe. “Why, when?--where?”
+
+“At the diggings--ever so long ago.”
+
+“Blank him! that is just like him; the uneasy fool!” roared Dick.
+
+“No, Mr. Dale, you should not say that; he left me, with my consent,
+to come to Mrs. Falcon here, and consult her about disposing of our
+diamonds.”
+
+“Diamonds!--diamonds!” cried Phoebe. “Oh, they make me tremble. How
+COULD you let him go alone! You didn't let HIM go on foot, I hope?”
+
+“Oh, no, Mrs. Falcon; he had his horse, and his rifle, and money to
+spend on the road.”
+
+“How long ago did he leave you, sir?”
+
+“I--I am sorry to say it was five weeks ago.”
+
+“Five weeks! and not come yet. Ah! the wild beasts!--the diggers!--the
+murderers! He is dead!”
+
+“God forbid!” faltered Staines; but his own blood began to run cold.
+
+“He is dead. He has died between this and the dreadful diamonds. I shall
+never see my darling again: he is dead. He is dead.”
+
+She rushed out of the room, and out of the house, throwing her arms
+above her head in despair, and uttering those words of agony again and
+again in every variety of anguish.
+
+At such horrible moments women always swoon--if we are to believe the
+dramatists. I doubt if there is one grain of truth in this. Women seldom
+swoon at all, unless their bodies are unhealthy, or weakened by the
+reaction that follows so terrible a shock as this. At all events,
+Phoebe, at first, was strong and wild as a lion, and went to and fro
+outside the house, unconscious of her body's motion, frenzied with
+agony, and but one word on her lips, “He is dead!--he is dead!”
+
+Dick followed her, crying like a child, but master of himself; he got
+his people about her, and half carried her in again; then shut the door
+in all their faces.
+
+He got the poor creature to sit down, and she began to rock and moan,
+with her apron over her head, and her brown hair loose about her.
+
+“Why should he be dead?” said Dick. “Don't give a man up like that,
+Phoebe. Doctor, tell us more about it. Oh, man, how could you let him
+out of your sight? You knew how fond the poor creature was of him.”
+
+“But that was it, Mr. Dale,” said Staines. “I knew his wife must pine
+for him; and we had found six large diamonds, and a handful of small
+ones; but the market was glutted; and to get a better price, he wanted
+to go straight to Cape Town. But I said, 'No; go and show them to your
+wife, and see whether she will go to Cape Town.'”
+
+Phoebe began to listen, as was evident by her moaning more softly.
+
+“Might he not have gone straight to Cape Town?” Staines hazarded this
+timidly.
+
+“Why should he do that, sir? Dale's Kloof is on the road.”
+
+“Only on one road. Mr. Dale, he was well armed, with rifle and revolver;
+and I cautioned him not to show a diamond on the road. Who would molest
+him? Diamonds don't show, like gold. Who was to know he had three
+thousand pounds hidden under his armpits, and in two barrels of his
+revolver?”
+
+“Three thousand pounds!” cried Dale. “You trusted HIM with three
+thousand pounds?”
+
+“Certainly. They were worth about three thousand pounds in Cape Town,
+and half as much again in”--
+
+Phoebe started up in a moment. “Thank God!” she cried. “There's hope for
+me. Oh, Dick, he is not dead: HE HAS ONLY DESERTED ME.”
+
+And with these strange and pitiable words, she fell to sobbing as if her
+great heart would burst at last.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+
+There came a reaction, and Phoebe was prostrated with grief and alarm.
+Her brother never doubted now that Reginald had run to Cape Town for a
+lark. But Phoebe, though she thought so too, could not be sure; and so
+the double agony of bereavement and desertion tortured her by turns, and
+almost together. For the first time these many years, she was so crushed
+she could not go about her business, but lay on a little sofa in her own
+room, and had the blinds down, for her head ached so she could not bear
+the light.
+
+She conceived a bitter resentment against Staines; and told Dick never
+to let him into her sight, if he did not want to be her death.
+
+In vain Dick made excuses for him: she would hear none. For once she
+was as unreasonable as any other living woman: she could see nothing but
+that she had been happy, after years of misery, and should be happy now
+if this man had never entered her house. “Ah, Collie!” she cried, “you
+were wiser than I was. You as good as told me he would make me smart for
+lodging and curing him. And I was SO happy!”
+
+Dale communicated this as delicately as he could to Staines. Christopher
+was deeply grieved and wounded. He thought it unjust, but he knew it
+was natural: he said, humbly, “I feel guilty myself, Mr. Dale; and yet,
+unless I had possessed omniscience, what could I do? I thought of her in
+all--poor thing! poor thing!”
+
+The tears were in his eyes, and Dick Dale went away scratching his head
+and thinking it over. The more he thought, the less he was inclined to
+condemn him.
+
+Staines himself was much troubled in mind, and lived on thorns. He
+wanted to be off to England; grudged every day, every hour, he spent in
+Africa. But Mrs. Falcon was his benefactress; he had been, for months
+and months, garnering up a heap of gratitude towards her. He had not
+the heart to leave her bad friends, and in misery. He kept hoping Falcon
+would return, or write.
+
+Two days after his return, he was seated, disconsolate, gluing garnets
+and carbuncles on to a broad tapering bit of lambskin, when Ucatella
+came to him and said, “My doctor child sick?”
+
+“No, not sick: but miserable.” And he explained to her, as well as he
+could, what had passed. “But,” said he, “I would not mind the loss of
+the diamonds now, if I was only sure he was alive. I think most of poor,
+poor Mrs. Falcon.”
+
+While Ucatella pondered this, but with one eye of demure curiosity on
+the coronet he was making, he told her it was for her--he had not forgot
+her at the mines.
+
+“These stones,” said he, “are not valued there; but see how glorious
+they are!”
+
+In a few minutes he had finished the coronet, and gave it her. She
+uttered a chuckle of delight, and with instinctive art, bound it, in a
+turn of her hand, about her brow; and then Staines himself was struck
+dumb with amazement. The carbuncles gathered from those mines look like
+rubies, so full of fire are they, and of enormous size. The chaplet had
+twelve great carbuncles in the centre, and went off by gradations into
+smaller garnets by the thousand. They flashed their blood-red flames in
+the African sun, and the head of Ucatella, grand before, became the head
+of the Sphinx, encircled with a coronet of fire. She bestowed a look of
+rapturous gratitude on Staines, and then glided away, like the stately
+Juno, to admire herself in the nearest glass like any other coquette,
+black, brown, yellow, copper, or white.
+
+That very day, towards sunset, she burst upon Staines quite suddenly,
+with her coronet gleaming on her magnificent head, and her eyes like
+coals of fire, and under her magnificent arm, hard as a rock, a boy
+kicking and struggling in vain. She was furiously excited, and, for the
+first time, showed signs of the savage in the whites of her eyes,
+which seemed to turn the glorious pupils into semicircles. She clutched
+Staines by the shoulder with her left hand, and swept along with
+the pair, like dark Fate, or as potent justice sweeps away a pair of
+culprits, and carried them to the little window, and cried “Open--open!”
+
+Dick Dale was at dinner; Phoebe lying down. Dick got up, rather crossly,
+and threw open the window. “What is up now?” said he crossly: he was
+like two or three more Englishmen--hated to be bothered at dinner-time.
+
+“Dar,” screamed Ucatella, setting down Tim, but holding him tight by the
+shoulder; “now you tell what you see that night, you lilly Kafir trash;
+if you not tell, I kill you DEAD;” and she showed the whites of her
+eyes, like a wild beast.
+
+Tim, thoroughly alarmed, quivered out that he had seen lilly master ride
+up to the gate one bright night, and look in, and Tim thought he was
+going in: but he changed his mind, and galloped away that way; and the
+monkey pointed south.
+
+“And why couldn't you tell us this before?” questioned Dick.
+
+“Me mind de sheep,” said Tim apologetically. “Me not mind de lilly
+master: jackals not eat him.”
+
+“You no more sense dan a sheep yourself,” said Ucatella loftily.
+
+“No, no: God bless you both,” cried poor Phoebe: “now I know the worst:”
+ and a great burst of tears relieved her suffering heart.
+
+Dick went out softly. When he got outside the door, he drew them all
+apart, and said, “Yuke, you ARE a good-hearted girl. I'll never forget
+this while I live; and, Tim, there's a shilling for thee; but don't you
+go and spend it in Cape smoke; that is poison to whites, and destruction
+to blacks.”
+
+“No, master,” said Tim. “I shall buy much bread, and make my tomach
+tiff;” then, with a glance of reproach at the domestic caterer,
+Ucatella, “I almost never have my tomach tiff.”
+
+Dick left his sister alone an hour or two, to have her cry out.
+
+When he went back to her there was a change: the brave woman no longer
+lay prostrate. She went about her business; only she was always either
+crying or drowning her tears.
+
+He brought Dr. Staines in. Phoebe instantly turned her back on him with
+a shudder there was no mistaking.
+
+“I had better go,” said Staines. “Mrs. Falcon will never forgive me.”
+
+“She will have to quarrel with me else,” said Dick steadily. “Sit you
+down, doctor. Honest folk like you and me and Phoebe wasn't made to
+quarrel for want of looking a thing all round. My sister she hasn't
+looked it all round, and I have. Come, Pheeb, 'tis no use your blinding
+yourself. How was the poor doctor to know your husband is a blackguard?”
+
+“He is not a blackguard. How dare you say that to my face?”
+
+“He is a blackguard, and always was. And now he is a thief to boot. He
+has stolen those diamonds; you know that very well.”
+
+“Gently, Mr. Dale; you forget: they are as much his as mine.”
+
+“Well, and if half a sheep is mine, and I take the whole and sell him,
+and keep the money, what is that but stealing? Why, I wonder at you,
+Pheeb. You was always honest yourself, and yet you see the doctor robbed
+by your man, and that does not trouble you. What has he done to deserve
+it? He has been a good friend to us. He has put us on the road. We did
+little more than keep the pot boiling before he came--well, yes, we
+stored grain; but whose advice has turned that grain to gold, I might
+say? Well, what's his offence? He trusted the diamonds to your man, and
+sent him to you. Is he the first honest man that has trusted a rogue?
+How was he to know? Likely he judged the husband by the wife. Answer me
+one thing, Pheeb. If he makes away with fifteen hundred pounds that
+is his, or partly yours--for he has eaten your bread ever since I knew
+him--and fifteen hundred more that is the doctor's, where shall we find
+fifteen hundred pounds, all in a moment, to pay the doctor back his
+own?”
+
+“My honest friend,” said Staines, “you are tormenting yourself with
+shadows. I don't believe Mr. Falcon will wrong me of a shilling; and,
+if he does, I shall quietly repay myself out of the big diamond. Yes, my
+dear friends, I did not throw away your horse, nor your rifle, nor your
+money: I gave them all, and the lion's skin--I gave them all--for this.”
+
+And he laid the big diamond on the table.
+
+It was as big as a walnut, and of the purest water.
+
+Dick Dale glanced at it stupidly. Phoebe turned her back on it, with a
+cry of horror, and then came slowly round by degrees; and her eyes were
+fascinated by the royal gem.
+
+“Yes,” said Staines sadly, “I had to strip myself of all to buy it, and,
+when I had got it, how proud I was, and how happy I thought we should
+all be over it, for it is half yours, half mine. Yes, Mr. Dale, there
+lies six thousand pounds that belong to Mrs. Falcon.”
+
+“Six thousand pounds!” cried Dick.
+
+“I'm sure of it. And so, if your suspicions are correct, and poor Falcon
+should yield to a sudden temptation, and spend all that money, I shall
+just coolly deduct it from your share of this wonderful stone: so make
+your mind easy. But no; if Falcon is really so wicked as to desert his
+happy home, and so mad as to spend thousands in a month or two, let us
+go and save him.”
+
+“That is my business,” said Phoebe. “I am going in the mail-cart
+to-morrow.”
+
+“Well, you won't go alone,” said Dick.
+
+“Mrs. Falcon,” said Staines imploringly, “let me go with you.”
+
+“Thank you, sir. My brother can take care of me.”
+
+“Me! You had better not take me. If I catch hold of him, by --- I'll
+break his neck, or his back, or his leg, or something; he'll never run
+away from you again, if I lay hands on him,” replied Dick.
+
+“I'll go alone. You are both against me.”
+
+“No, Mrs. Falcon; I am not,” said Staines. “My heart bleeds for you.”
+
+“Don't you demean yourself, praying her,” said Dick. “It's a public
+conveyance: you have no need to ask HER leave.”
+
+“That is true: I can't hinder folk from going to Cape Town the same
+day,” said Phoebe sullenly.
+
+“If I might presume to advise, I would take little Tommy.”
+
+“What! all that road? Do you want me to lose my child, as well as my
+man?”
+
+“O Mrs. Falcon!”
+
+“Don't speak to her, doctor, to get your nose snapped off. Give her
+time. She'll come to her senses before she dies.”
+
+Next day Mrs. Falcon and Staines started for Cape Town. Staines paid
+her every attention, when opportunity offered. But she was sullen and
+gloomy, and held no converse with him.
+
+He landed her at an inn, and then told her he would go at once to the
+jeweller's. He asked her piteously would she lend him a pound or two to
+prosecute his researches. She took out her purse, without a word, and
+lent him two pounds.
+
+He began to scour the town: the jewellers he visited could tell him
+nothing. At last he came to a shop, and there he found Mrs. Falcon
+making her inquiries independently. She said coldly, “You had better
+come with me, and get your money and things.”
+
+She took him to the bank--it happened to be the one she did business
+with--and said, “This is Dr. Christie, come for his money and jewels.”
+
+There was some demur at this; but the cashier recognized him, and Phoebe
+making herself responsible, the money and jewels were handed over.
+
+Staines whispered Phoebe, “Are you sure the jewels are mine?”
+
+“They were found on you, sir.”
+
+Staines took them, looking confused. He did not know what to think. When
+they got into the street again, he told her it was very kind of her to
+think of his interest at all.
+
+No answer: she was not going to make friends with him over such a trifle
+as that.
+
+By degrees, however, Christopher's zeal on her behalf broke the ice; and
+besides, as the search proved unavailing, she needed sympathy; and he
+gave it her, and did not abuse her husband as Dick Dale did.
+
+One day, in the street, after a long thought, she said to him, “Didn't
+you say, sir, you gave him a letter for me?”
+
+“I gave him two letters; one of them was to you.”
+
+“Could you remember what you said in it?”
+
+“Perfectly. I begged you, if you should go to England, to break the
+truth to my wife. She is very excitable; and sudden joy has killed ere
+now. I gave you particular instructions.”
+
+“And you were very wise. But whatever could make you think I would go to
+England?”
+
+“He told me you only wanted an excuse.”
+
+“Oh!!”
+
+“When he told me that, I caught at it, of course. It was all the world
+to me to get my Rosa told by such a kind, good, sensible friend as you;
+and, Mrs. Falcon, I had no scruple about troubling you, because I knew
+the stones would sell for at least a thousand pounds more in England
+than here, and that would pay your expenses.”
+
+“I see, sir; I see. 'Twas very natural: you love your wife.”
+
+“Better than my life.”
+
+“And he told you I only wanted an excuse to go to England?”
+
+“He did, indeed. It was not true?”
+
+“It was anything but true. I had suffered so in England; I had been so
+happy here: too happy to last. Ah! well, it is all over. Let us think
+of the matter in hand. Sure that was not the only letter you gave my
+husband? Didn't you write to HER?”
+
+“Of course I did; but that was enclosed to you, and not to be given to
+her until you had broken the joyful news to her. Yes, Mrs. Falcon, I
+wrote and told her everything: my loss at sea; how I was saved,
+after, by your kindness. Our journeys, from Cape Town, and then to the
+diggings; my sudden good fortune, my hopes, my joy--O my poor Rosa! and
+now I suppose she will never get it. It is too cruel of him. I shall
+go home by the next steamer. I CAN'T stay here any longer, for you or
+anybody. Oh, and I enclosed my ruby ring that she gave me, for I thought
+she might not believe you without that.”
+
+“Let me think,” said Phoebe, turning ashy pale. “For mercy's sake, let
+me think!
+
+“He has read both those letters, sir.
+
+“She will never see hers: any more than I shall see mine.”
+
+She paused again, thinking harder and harder.
+
+“We must take two places in the next mail steamer. I must look after my
+husband, AND YOU AFTER YOUR WIFE.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+
+Mrs. Falcon's bitter feeling against Dr. Staines did not subside; it
+merely went out of sight a little. They were thrown together by potent
+circumstances, and in a manner connected by mutual obligations; so
+an open rupture seemed too unnatural. Still Phoebe was a woman, and,
+blinded by her love for her husband, could not forgive the innocent
+cause of their present unhappy separation; though the fault lay entirely
+with Falcon.
+
+Staines took her on board the steamer, and paid her every attention. She
+was also civil to him; but it was a cold and constrained civility.
+
+About a hundred miles from land the steamer stopped, and the passengers
+soon learned there was something wrong with her machinery. In fact,
+after due consultation, the captain decided to put back.
+
+This irritated and distressed Mrs. Falcon so that the captain, desirous
+to oblige her, hailed a fast schooner, that tacked across her bows, and
+gave Mrs. Falcon the option of going back with him, or going on in the
+schooner, with whose skipper he was acquainted.
+
+Staines advised her on no account to trust to sails, when she could have
+steam with only a delay of four or five days; but she said, “Anything
+sooner than go back. I can't, I can't on such an errand.”
+
+Accordingly she was put on board the schooner, and Staines, after some
+hesitation, felt bound to accompany her.
+
+It proved a sad error. Contrary winds assailed them the very next day,
+and with such severity that they had repeatedly to lie to.
+
+On one of these occasions, with a ship reeling under them like a restive
+horse, and the waves running mountains high, poor Phoebe's terrors
+overmastered both her hostility and her reserve. “Doctor,” said she, “I
+believe 'tis God's will we shall never see England. I must try and die
+more like a Christian than I have lived, forgiving all who have wronged
+me, and you, that have been my good friend and my worst enemy, but you
+did not mean it. Sir, what has turned me against you so--your wife was
+my husband's sweetheart before he married me.”
+
+“My wife your husband's--you are dreaming.”
+
+“Nay, sir, once she came to my shop, and I saw directly I was nothing to
+him, and he owned it all to me; he had courted her, and she jilted him;
+so he said. Why should he tell me a lie about that? I'd lay my life 'tis
+true. And now you have sent him to her your own self; and, at sight of
+her, I shall be nothing again. Well, when this ship goes down, they can
+marry, and I hope he will be happy, happier than I can make him, that
+tried my best, God knows.”
+
+This conversation surprised Staines not a little. However, he said, with
+great warmth, it was false. His wife had danced and flirted with some
+young gentleman at one time, when there was a brief misunderstanding
+between him and her, but sweetheart she had never had, except him. He
+courted her fresh from school. “Now, my good soul,” said he, “make your
+mind easy; the ship is a good one, and well handled, and in no danger
+whatever, and my wife is in no danger from your husband. Since you and
+your brother tell me that he is a villain, I am bound to believe you.
+But my wife is an angel. In our miserable hour of parting, she vowed
+not to marry again, should I be taken from her. Marry again! what am I
+talking of? Why, if he visits her at all, it will be to let her know I
+am alive, and give her my letter. Do you mean to tell me she will listen
+to vows of love from him, when her whole heart is in rapture for me?
+Such nonsense!”
+
+This burst of his did not affront her, and did not comfort her.
+
+At last the wind abated; and after a wearisome calm, a light breeze
+came, and the schooner crept homeward.
+
+Phoebe restrained herself for several days; but at last she came back to
+the subject; this time it was in an apologetic tone at starting. “I know
+you think me a foolish woman,” she said; “but my poor Reginald could
+never resist a pretty face; and she is so lovely; and you should have
+seen how he turned when she came in to my place. Oh, sir, there has been
+more between them than you know of; and when I think that he will
+have been in England so many months before we get there, oh, doctor,
+sometimes I feel as I should go mad; my head it is like a furnace, and
+see, my brow is all wrinkled again.”
+
+Then Staines tried to comfort her; assured her she was tormenting
+herself idly; her husband would perhaps have spent some of the diamond
+money on his amusement; but what if he had? he should deduct it out of
+the big diamond, which was also their joint property, and the loss would
+hardly be felt. “As to my wife, madam, I have but one anxiety; lest
+he should go blurting it out that I am alive, and almost kill her with
+joy.”
+
+“He will not do that, sir. He is no fool.”
+
+“I am glad of it; for there is nothing else to fear.”
+
+“Man, I tell you there is everything to fear. You don't know him as I
+do; nor his power over women.”
+
+“Mrs. Falcon, are you bent on affronting me?”
+
+“No, sir; Heaven forbid!”
+
+“Then please to close this subject forever. In three weeks we shall be
+in England.”
+
+“Ay; but he has been there six months.”
+
+He bowed stiffly to her, went to his cabin, and avoided the poor foolish
+woman as much as he could without seeming too unkind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+
+Mrs. Staines made one or two movements--to stop Lord Tadcaster--with
+her hand, that expressive feature with which, at such times, a sensitive
+woman can do all but speak.
+
+When at last he paused for her reply, she said, “Me marry again! Oh! for
+shame!”
+
+“Mrs. Staines--Rosa--you will marry again, some day.”
+
+“Never. Me take another husband, after such a man as I have lost! I
+should be a monster. Oh, Lord Tadcaster, you have been so kind to me; so
+sympathizing. You made me believe you loved my Christopher, too; and now
+you have spoiled all. It is too cruel.”
+
+“Oh! Mrs. Staines, do you think me capable of feigning--don't you see my
+love for you has taken you by surprise? But how could I visit you--look
+on you--hear you--mingle my regrets with yours; yours were the deepest,
+of course; but mine were honest.”
+
+“I believe it.” And she gave him her hand. He held it, and kissed it,
+and cried over it, as the young will, and implored her, on his knees,
+not to condemn herself to life-long widowhood, and him to despair.
+
+Then she cried, too; but she was firm; and by degrees she made him see
+that her heart was inaccessible.
+
+Then at last he submitted with tearful eyes, but a valiant heart.
+
+She offered friendship timidly.
+
+But he was too much of a man to fall into that trap. “No,” he said: “I
+could not, I could not. Love or nothing.”
+
+“You are right,” said she, pityingly. “Forgive me. In my selfishness and
+my usual folly, I did not see this coming on, or I would have spared you
+this mortification.”
+
+“Never mind that,” gulped the little earl. “I shall always be proud I
+knew you, and proud I loved you, and offered you my hand.”
+
+Then the magnanimous little fellow blessed her, and left her, and
+discontinued his visits.
+
+Mr. Lusignan found her crying, and got the truth out of her. He was in
+despair. He remonstrated kindly, but firmly. Truth compels me to say
+that she politely ignored him. He observed that phenomenon, and said,
+“Very well then, I shall telegraph for Uncle Philip.”
+
+“Do,” said the rebel. “He is always welcome.”
+
+Philip, telegraphed, came down that evening; likewise his little black
+bag. He found them in the drawing-room: papa with the Pall Mall Gazette,
+Rosa seated, sewing, at a lamp. She made little Christie's clothes
+herself,--fancy that!
+
+Having ascertained that the little boy was well, Philip, adroitly hiding
+that he had come down torn with anxiety on that head, inquired with a
+show of contemptuous indifference, whose cat was dead.
+
+“Nobody's,” said Lusignan crossly. Then he turned and pointed the
+Gazette at his offspring. “Do you see that young lady stitching there so
+demurely?”
+
+Philip carefully wiped and then put on his spectacles.
+
+“I see her,” said he. “She does look a little too innocent. None of them
+are really so innocent as all that. Has she been swearing at the nurse,
+and boxing her ears?”
+
+“Worse than that. She has been and refused the Earl of Tadcaster.”
+
+“Refused him--what! has that little monkey had the audacity?”
+
+“The condescension, you mean. Yes.”
+
+“And she has refused him?”
+
+“And twenty thousand a year.”
+
+“What immorality!”
+
+“Worse. What absurdity!”
+
+“How is it to be accounted for? Is it the old story? 'I could never
+love him.' No; that's inadequate; for they all love a title and twenty
+thousand a year.”
+
+Rosa sewed on all this time in demure and absolute silence.
+
+“She ignores us,” said Philip. “It is intolerable. She does not
+appreciate our politeness in talking at her. Let us arraign her before
+our sacred tribunal, and have her into court. Now, mistress, the Senate
+of Venice is assembled, and you must be pleased to tell us why you
+refused a title and twenty thousand a year, with a small but symmetrical
+earl tacked on.”
+
+Rosa laid down her work, and said quietly, “Uncle, almost the last
+words that passed between me and my Christopher, we promised each other
+solemnly never to marry again till death should us part. You know
+how deep my sorrow has been that I can find so few wishes of my lost
+Christopher to obey. Well, to-day I have had an opportunity at last. I
+have obeyed my own lost one; it has cost me a tear or two; but, for all
+that, it has given me one little gleam of happiness. Ah, foolish woman,
+that obeys too late!”
+
+And with this the tears began to run.
+
+All this seemed a little too high-flown to Mr. Lusignan. “There,” said
+he, “see on what a straw her mind turns. So, but for that, you would
+have done the right thing, and married the earl?”
+
+“I dare say I should--at the time--to stop his crying.”
+
+And with this listless remark she quietly took up her sewing again.
+
+The sagacious Philip looked at her gravely. He thought to himself how
+piteous it was to see so young and lovely a creature, that had given
+up all hope of happiness for herself. These being his real thoughts,
+he expressed himself as follows: “We had better drop this subject, sir.
+This young lady will take us potent, grave, and reverend seignors out of
+our depth, if we don't mind.”
+
+But the moment he got her alone he kissed her paternally, and said,
+“Rosa, it is not lost on me, your fidelity to the dead. As years roll
+on, and your deep wound first closes, then skins, then heals--”
+
+“Ah, let me die first--”
+
+“Time and nature will absolve you from that vow; but bless you for
+thinking this can never be. Rosa, your folly of this day has made you my
+heir; so never let money tempt you, for you have enough, and will have
+more than enough when I go.”
+
+He was as good as his word; altered his will next day, and made Rosa his
+residuary legatee. When he had done this, foreseeing no fresh occasion
+for his services, he prepared for a long visit to Italy. He was packing
+up his things to go there, when he received a line from Lady Cicely
+Treherne, asking him to call on her professionally. As the lady's
+servant brought it, he sent back a line to say he no longer practised
+medicine, but would call on her as a friend in an hour's time.
+
+He found her reclining, the picture of lassitude. “How good of you to
+come,” she drawled.
+
+“What's the matter?” said he brusquely.
+
+“I wish to cawnsult you about myself. I think if anybody can brighten me
+up, it is you. I feel such a languaw--such a want of spirit; and I get
+palaa, and that is not desiwable.”
+
+He examined her tongue and the white of her eye, and told her, in his
+blunt way, she ate and drank too much.
+
+“Excuse me, sir,” said she stiffly.
+
+“I mean too often. Now, let's see. Cup of tea in bed, of a morning?”
+
+“Yaas.”
+
+“Dinner at two?”
+
+“We call it luncheon.”
+
+“Are you a ventriloquist?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Then it is only your lips call it luncheon. Your poor stomach, could it
+speak, would call it dinner. Afternoon tea?”
+
+“Yaas.”
+
+“At seven-thirty another dinner. Tea after that. Your afflicted stomach
+gets no rest. You eat pastry?”
+
+“I confess it.”
+
+“And sugar in a dozen forms?”
+
+She nodded.
+
+“Well, sugar is poison to your temperament. Now I'll set you up, if you
+can obey. Give up your morning dram.”
+
+“What dwam?”
+
+“Tea in bed, before eating. Can't you see that is a dram? Animal food
+twice a day. No wine but a little claret and water; no pastry, no
+sweets, and play battledore with one of your male subjects.”
+
+“Battledaw! won't a lady do for that?”
+
+“No: you would get talking, and not play ad sudorem.”
+
+“Ad sudawem! what is that?”
+
+“In earnest.”
+
+“And will sudawem and the west put me in better spiwits, and give me a
+tinge?”
+
+“It will incarnadine the lily, and make you the happiest young lady in
+England, as you are the best.”
+
+“I should like to be much happier than I am good, if we could manage it
+among us.”
+
+“We will manage it AMONG us; for if the diet allowed should not make you
+boisterously gay, I have a remedy behind, suited to your temperament. I
+am old-fashioned, and believe in the temperaments.”
+
+“And what is that wemedy?”
+
+“Try diet, and hard exercise, first.”
+
+“Oh, yes; but let me know that wemedy.”
+
+“I warn you it is what we call in medicine an heroic one.”
+
+“Never mind. I am despewate.”
+
+“Well, then, the heroic remedy--to be used only as a desperate resort,
+mind--you must marry an Irishman.”
+
+This took the lady's breath away.
+
+“Mawwy a nice man?”
+
+“A nice man; no. That means a fool. Marry scientifically--a precaution
+eternally neglected. Marry a Hibernian gentleman, a being as mercurial
+as you are lymphatic.”
+
+“Mercurial!--lymphatic!”--
+
+“Oh, hard words break no bones, ma'am.”
+
+“No, sir. And it is very curious. No, I won't tell you. Yes, I will. Hem
+I--I think I have noticed one.”
+
+“One what?”
+
+“One Iwishman--dangling after me.”
+
+“Then your ladyship has only to tighten the cord--and HE'S done for.”
+
+Having administered this prescription, our laughing philosopher went
+off to Italy, and there fell in with some countrymen to his mind, so he
+accompanied them to Egypt and Palestine.
+
+His absence, and Lord Tadcaster's, made Rosa Staines's life extremely
+monotonous. Day followed day, and week followed week, each so unvarying,
+that, on a retrospect, three months seemed like one day.
+
+And I think at last youth and nature began to rebel, and secretly to
+crave some little change or incident to ruffle the stagnant pool. Yet
+she would not go into society, and would only receive two or three dull
+people at the villa; so she made the very monotony which was beginning
+to tire her, and nursed a sacred grief she had no need to nurse, it was
+so truly genuine.
+
+She was in this forlorn condition, when, one morning, a carriage drove
+to the door, and a card was brought up to her--“Mr. Reginald Falcon.”
+
+Falcon's history, between this and our last advices, is soon disposed
+of.
+
+When, after a little struggle with his better angel, he rode past his
+wife's gate, he intended, at first, only to go to Cape Town, sell the
+diamonds, have a lark, and bring home the balance: but, as he rode
+south, his views expanded. He could have ten times the fun in London,
+and cheaper; since he could sell the diamonds for more money, and
+also conceal the true price. This was the Bohemian's whole mind in the
+business. He had no designs whatever on Mrs. Staines, nor did he intend
+to steal the diamonds, but to embezzle a portion of the purchase-money,
+and enjoy the pleasures and vices of the capital for a few months;
+then back to his milch cow, Phoebe, and lead a quiet life till the
+next uncontrollable fit should come upon him along with the means of
+satisfying it.
+
+On the way, he read Staines's letter to Mrs. Falcon, very carefully. He
+never broke the seal of the letter to Mrs. Staines. That was to be given
+her when he had broken the good news to her; and this he determined to
+do with such skill, as should make Dr. Staines very unwilling to look
+suspiciously or ill-naturedly into money accounts.
+
+He reached London; and being a thorough egotist, attended first to his
+own interests; he never went near Mrs. Staines until he had visited
+every diamond merchant and dealer in the metropolis; he showed the small
+stones to them all but he showed no more than one large stone to each.
+
+At last he got an offer of twelve hundred pounds for the small stones,
+and the same for the large yellow stone, and nine hundred pounds for the
+second largest stone. He took this nine hundred pounds, and instantly
+wrote to Phoebe, telling her he had a sudden inspiration to bring the
+diamonds to England, which he could not regret, since he had never done
+a wiser thing. He had sold a single stone for eight hundred pounds, and
+had sent the doctor's four hundred pounds to her account in Cape Town;
+and as each sale was effected, the half would be so remitted. She would
+see by that, he was wiser than in former days. He should only stay so
+long as might be necessary to sell them all equally well. His own share
+he would apply to paying off mortgages on the family estate, of which
+he hoped some day to see her the mistress, or he would send it direct to
+her, whichever she might prefer.
+
+Now the main object of this artful letter was to keep Phoebe quiet, and
+not have her coming after him, of which he felt she was very capable.
+
+The money got safe to Cape Town, but the letter to Phoebe miscarried.
+How this happened was never positively known; but the servant of the
+lodging-house was afterwards detected cutting stamps off a letter; so
+perhaps she had played that game on this occasion.
+
+By this means, matters took a curious turn. Falcon, intending to lull
+his wife into a false security, lulled himself into that state instead.
+
+When he had taken care of himself, and got five hundred pounds to play
+the fool with, then he condescended to remember his errand of mercy; and
+he came down to Gravesend, to see Mrs. Staines.
+
+On the road, he gave his mind seriously to the delicate and dangerous
+task. It did not, however, disquiet him as it would you, sir, or you,
+madam. He had a great advantage over you. He was a liar--a smooth,
+ready, accomplished liar--and he knew it.
+
+This was the outline he had traced in his mind: he should appear very
+subdued and sad; should wear an air of condolence. But, after a while,
+should say, “And yet men have been lost like that, and escaped. A man
+was picked up on a raft in those very latitudes, and brought into Cape
+Town. A friend of mine saw him, months after, at the hospital. His
+memory was shaken--could not tell his name; but in other respects he was
+all right again.”
+
+If Mrs. Staines took fire at this, he would say his friend knew all the
+particulars, and he would ask him, and so leave that to rankle till next
+visit. And having planted his germ of hope, he would grow it, and water
+it, by visits and correspondence, till he could throw off the mask, and
+say he was convinced Staines was alive: and from that, by other degrees,
+till he could say, on his wife's authority, that the man picked up at
+sea, and cured at her house, was the very physician who had saved her
+brother's life: and so on to the overwhelming proof he carried in the
+ruby ring and the letter.
+
+I am afraid the cunning and dexterity, the subtlety and tact required,
+interested him more in the commission than did the benevolence. He
+called, sent up his card, and composed his countenance for his part,
+like an actor at the Wing.
+
+“Not at home.”
+
+He stared with amazement.
+
+The history of a “Not at home” is not, in general, worth recording: but
+this is an exception.
+
+On receiving Falcon's card, Mrs. Staines gave a little start, and
+colored faintly. She instantly resolved not to see him. What! the man
+she had flirted with, almost jilted, and refused to marry--he dared to
+be alive when her Christopher was dead, and had come there to show her
+HE was alive!
+
+She said “Not at home” with a tone of unusual sharpness and decision,
+which left the servant in no doubt he must be equally decided at the
+hall door.
+
+Falcon received the sudden freezer with amazement. “Nonsense,” said he.
+“Not at home at this time of the morning--to an old friend!”
+
+“Not at home,” said the man doggedly.
+
+“Oh, very well,” said Falcon with a bitter sneer, and returned to
+London.
+
+He felt sure she was at home; and being a tremendous egotist, he said,
+“Oh! all right. If she would rather not know her husband is alive, it
+is all one to me;” and he actually took no more notice of her for a full
+week, and never thought of her, except to chuckle over the penalty she
+was paying for daring to affront his vanity.
+
+However, Sunday came; he saw a dull day before him, and so he relented,
+and thought he would give her another trial.
+
+He went down to Gravesend by boat, and strolled towards the villa.
+
+When he was about a hundred yards from the villa, a lady, all in black,
+came out with a nurse and child.
+
+Falcon knew her figure all that way off, and it gave him a curious
+thrill that surprised him. He followed her, and was not very far behind
+her when she reached the church. She turned at the porch, kissed the
+child earnestly, and gave the nurse some directions; then entered the
+church.
+
+“Come,” said Falcon, “I'll have a look at her, any way.”
+
+He went into the church, and walked up a side aisle to a pillar, from
+which he thought he might be able to see the whole congregation; and,
+sure enough, there she sat, a few yards from him. She was lovelier than
+ever. Mind had grown on her face with trouble. An angelic expression
+illuminated her beauty; he gazed on her, fascinated. He drank and drank
+her beauty two mortal hours, and when the church broke up, and she went
+home, he was half afraid to follow her, for he felt how hard it would
+be to say anything to her but that the old love had returned on him with
+double force.
+
+However, having watched her home, he walked slowly to and fro composing
+himself for the interview.
+
+He now determined to make the process of informing her a very long one:
+he would spin it out, and so secure many a sweet interview with her:
+and, who knows? he might fascinate her as she had him, and ripen
+gratitude into love, as he understood that word.
+
+He called, he sent in his card. The man went in, and came back with a
+sonorous “Not at home.”
+
+“Not at home? nonsense. Why, she is just come in from church.”
+
+“Not at home,” said the man, evidently strong in his instructions.
+
+Falcon turned white with rage at this second affront. “All the worse for
+her,” said he, and turned on his heel.
+
+He went home, raging with disappointment and wounded vanity, and--since
+such love as his is seldom very far from hate--he swore she should never
+know from him that her husband was alive. He even moralized. “This comes
+of being so unselfish,” said he. “I'll give that game up forever.”
+
+By and by, a mere negative revenge was not enough for him, and he set
+his wits to work to make her smart.
+
+He wrote to her from his lodgings:--
+
+
+DEAR MADAM,--What a pity you are never at home to me. I had something to
+say about your husband, that I thought might interest you.
+
+Yours truly,
+
+R. FALCON.
+
+
+Imagine the effect of this abominable note. It was like a rock flung
+into a placid pool. It set Rosa trembling all over. What could he mean?
+
+She ran with it to her father, and asked him what Mr. Falcon could mean.
+
+“I have no idea,” said he. “You had better ask him, not me.”
+
+“I am afraid it is only to get to see me. You know he admired me once.
+Ah, how suspicious I am getting.”
+
+Rosa wrote to Falcon:--
+
+
+DEAR SIR,--Since my bereavement I see scarcely anybody. My servant did
+not know you; so I hope you will excuse me. If it is too much trouble to
+call again, would you kindly explain your note to me?
+
+Yours respectfully,
+
+ROSA STAINES.
+
+
+Falcon chuckled bitterly over this. “No, my lady,” said he. “I'll serve
+you out. You shall run after me like a little dog. I have got the bone
+that will draw you.”
+
+He wrote back coldly to say that the matter he had wished to communicate
+was too delicate and important to put on paper; that he would try and
+get down to Gravesend again some day or other, but was much occupied,
+and had already put himself to inconvenience. He added, in a postscript,
+that he was always at home from four to five.
+
+Next day he got hold of the servant, and gave her minute instructions,
+and a guinea.
+
+Then the wretch got some tools and bored a hole in the partition wall of
+his sitting-room. The paper had large flowers. He was artist enough
+to conceal the trick with water-colors. In his bed-room the hole came
+behind the curtains.
+
+That very afternoon, as he had foreseen, Mrs. Staines called on him. The
+maid, duly instructed, said Mr. Falcon was out, but would soon return,
+and could she wait his return? The maid being so very civil, Mrs.
+Staines said she would wait a little while, and was immediately ushered
+into Falcon's sitting-room. There she sat down; but was evidently ill at
+ease, restless, flushed. She could not sit quiet, and at last began to
+walk up and down the room, almost wildly. Her beautiful eyes glittered,
+and the whole woman seemed on fire. The caitiff, who was watching her,
+saw and gloated on all this, and enjoyed to the full her beauty and
+agitation, and his revenge for her “Not at homes.”
+
+But after a long time, there was a reaction: she sat down and uttered
+some plaintive sounds inarticulate, or nearly; and at last she began to
+cry.
+
+Then it cost Falcon an effort not to come in and comfort her; but he
+controlled himself and kept quiet.
+
+She rang the bell. She asked for writing paper, and she wrote her unseen
+tormentor a humble note, begging him, for old acquaintance, to call on
+her, and tell her what his mysterious words meant that had filled her
+with agitation.
+
+This done, she went away, with a deep sigh, and Falcon emerged, and
+pounced upon her letter.
+
+He kissed it; he read it a dozen times: he sat down where she had sat,
+and his base passion overpowered him. Her beauty, her agitation, her
+fear, her tears, all combined to madden him, and do the devil's work
+in his false, selfish heart, so open to violent passions, so dead to
+conscience.
+
+For once in his life he was violently agitated, and torn by conflicting
+feelings: he walked about the room more wildly than his victim had; and
+if it be true that, in certain great temptations, good and bad angels
+fight for a man, here you might have seen as fierce a battle of that
+kind as ever was.
+
+At last he rushed out into the air, and did not return till ten o'clock
+at night. He came back pale and haggard, and with a look of crime upon
+his face.
+
+True Bohemian as he was, he sent for a pint of brandy.
+
+So then the die was cast, and something was to be done that called for
+brandy.
+
+He bolted himself in, and drank a wine-glass of it neat; then another;
+then another.
+
+Now his pale cheek is flushed, and his eye glitters. Drink forever!
+great ruin of English souls as well as bodies.
+
+He put the poker in the fire, and heated it red hot.
+
+He brought Staines's letter, and softened the sealing-wax with the hot
+poker; then with his pen-knife made a neat incision in the wax, and
+opened the letter. He took out the ring, and put it carefully away. Then
+he lighted a cigar, and read the letter, and studied it. Many a man,
+capable of murder in heat of passion, could not have resisted the pathos
+of this letter. Many a Newgate thief, after reading it, would have felt
+such pity for the loving husband who had suffered to the verge of death,
+and then to the brink of madness, and for the poor bereaved wife, that
+he would have taken the letter down to Gravesend that very night, though
+he picked two fresh pockets to defray the expenses of the road.
+
+But this was an egotist. Good nature had curbed his egotism a little
+while; but now vanity and passion had swept away all unselfish feelings,
+and the pure egotist alone remained.
+
+Now, the pure egotist has been defined as a man who will burn down his
+NEIGHBOR'S house to cook HIMSELF an egg. Murder is but egotism carried
+out to its natural climax. What is murder to a pure egotist, especially
+a brandied one?
+
+I knew an egotist who met a female acquaintance in Newhaven village. She
+had a one-pound note, and offered to treat him. She changed this note to
+treat him. Fish she gave him, and much whiskey. Cost her four shillings.
+He ate and drank with her, at her expense; and his aorta, or principal
+blood-vessel, being warmed with her whiskey, he murdered her for the
+change, the odd sixteen shillings.
+
+I had the pleasure of seeing that egotist hung, with these eyes. It was
+a slice of luck that, I grieve to say, has not occurred again to me.
+
+So much for a whiskied egotist.
+
+His less truculent but equally remorseless brother in villany, the
+brandied egotist, Falcon, could read that poor husband's letter without
+blenching; the love and the anticipations of rapture, these made him
+writhe a little with jealousy, but they roused not a grain of pity. He
+was a true egotist, blind, remorseless.
+
+In this, his true character, he studied the letter profoundly, and
+mastered all the facts, and digested them well.
+
+All manner of diabolical artifices presented themselves to his brain,
+barren of true intellect, yet fertile in fraud; in that, and all low
+cunning and subtlety, far more than a match for Solomon or Bacon.
+
+His sinister studies were pursued far into the night. Then he went to
+bed, and his unbounded egotism gave him the sleep a grander criminal
+would have courted in vain on the verge of a monstrous and deliberate
+crime.
+
+Next day he went to a fashionable tailor, and ordered a complete suit of
+black. This was made in forty-eight hours; the interval was spent mainly
+in concocting lies to be incorporated with the number of minute facts he
+had gained from Staines's letter, and in making close imitations of his
+handwriting.
+
+Thus armed, and crammed with more lies than the “Menteur” of Corneille,
+but not such innocent ones, he went down to Gravesend, all in deep
+mourning, with crape round his hat.
+
+He presented himself at the villa.
+
+The servant was all obsequiousness. Yes, Mrs. Staines received few
+visitors; but she was at home to HIM. He even began to falter excuses.
+“Nonsense,” said Falcon, and slipped a sovereign into his hand; “you are
+a good servant, and obey orders.”
+
+The servant's respect doubled, and he ushered the visitor into the
+drawing-room, as one whose name was a passport. “Mr. Reginald Falcon,
+madam.”
+
+Mrs. Staines was alone. She rose to meet him. Her color came and went,
+her full eye fell on him, and took in all at a glance--that he was all
+in black, and that he had a beard, and looked pale, and ill at ease.
+
+Little dreaming that this was the anxiety of a felon about to take the
+actual plunge into a novel crime, she was rather prepossessed by it. The
+beard gave him dignity, and hid his mean, cruel mouth. His black suit
+seemed to say he, too, had lost some one dear to him; and that was a
+ground of sympathy.
+
+She received him kindly, and thanked him for taking the trouble to come
+again. She begged him to be seated; and then, womanlike, she waited for
+him to explain.
+
+But he was in no hurry, and waited for her. He knew she would speak if
+he was silent.
+
+She could not keep him waiting long. “Mr. Falcon,” said she, hesitating
+a little, “you have something to say to me about him I have lost.”
+
+“Yes,” said he softly. “I have something I could say, and I think I
+ought to say it; but I am afraid: because I don't know what will be the
+result. I fear to make you more unhappy.”
+
+“Me! more unhappy? Me, whose dear husband lies at the bottom of the
+ocean. Other poor wounded creatures have the wretched comfort of knowing
+where he lies--of carrying flowers to his tomb. But I--oh, Mr. Falcon, I
+am bereaved of all: even his poor remains lost,--lost”--she could say no
+more.
+
+Then that craven heart began to quake at what he was doing; quaked, yet
+persevered; but his own voice quivered, and his cheek grew ashy pale.
+No wonder. If ever God condescended to pour lightning on a skunk, surely
+now was the time.
+
+Shaking and sweating with terror at his own act, he stammered out,
+“Would it be the least comfort to you to know that you are not denied
+that poor consolation? Suppose he died not so miserably as you think?
+Suppose he was picked up at sea, in a dying state?”
+
+“Ah!”
+
+“Suppose he lingered, nursed by kind and sympathizing hands, that almost
+saved him? Suppose he was laid in hallowed ground, and a great many
+tears shed over his grave?”
+
+“Ah, that would indeed be a comfort. And it was to say this you came. I
+thank you. I bless you. But, my good, kind friend, you are deceived. You
+don't know my husband. You never saw him. He perished at sea.”
+
+“Will it be kind or unkind, to tell you why I think he died as I tell
+you, and not at sea?”
+
+“Kind, but impossible. You deceive yourself. Ah, I see. You found some
+poor sufferer, and were good to him; but it was not my poor Christie.
+Oh, if it were, I should worship you. But I thank you as it is. It was
+very kind to want to give me this little, little crumb of comfort; for
+I know I did not behave well to you, sir: but you are generous, and have
+forgiven a poor heart-broken creature, that never was very wise.”
+
+He gave her time to cry, and then said to her, “I only wanted to be sure
+it WOULD be any comfort to you. Mrs. Staines, it is true I did not
+even know his name; nor yours. When I met, in this very room, the great
+disappointment that has saddened my own life, I left England directly. I
+collected funds, went to Natal, and turned land-owner and farmer. I have
+made a large fortune, but I need not tell you I am not happy. Well,
+I had a yacht, and sailing from Cape Town to Algoa Bay, I picked up
+a raft, with a dying man on it. He was perishing from exhaustion and
+exposure. I got a little brandy between his lips, and kept him alive. I
+landed with him at once: and we nursed him on shore. We had to be very
+cautious. He improved. We got him to take egg-flip. He smiled on us at
+first, and then he thanked us. I nursed him day and night for ten days.
+He got much stronger. He spoke to me, thanked me again and again, and
+told me his name was Christopher Staines. He told me that he should
+never get well. I implored him to have courage. He said he did not want
+for courage; but nature had been tried too hard. We got so fond of each
+other. Oh!”--and the caitiff pretended to break down; and his feigned
+grief mingled with Rosa's despairing sobs.
+
+He made an apparent effort, and said, “He spoke to me of his wife, his
+darling Rosa. The name made me start, but I could not know it was
+you. At last he was strong enough to write a few lines, and he made me
+promise to take them to his wife.”
+
+“Ah!” said Rosa. “Show them me.”
+
+“I will.”
+
+“This moment.” And her hands began to work convulsively.
+
+“I cannot,” said Falcon. “I have not brought them with me.”
+
+Rosa cast a keen eye of suspicion and terror on him. His not bringing
+the letter seemed monstrous; and so indeed it was. The fact is, the
+letter was not written.
+
+Falcon affected not to notice her keen look. He flowed on, “The address
+he put on that letter astonished me. 'Kent Villa.' Of course I knew Kent
+Villa: and he called you 'Rosa.'”
+
+“How could you come to me without that letter?” cried Rosa, wringing her
+hands. “How am I to know? It is all so strange, so incredible.”
+
+“Don't you believe me?” said Falcon sadly. “Why should I deceive you?
+The first time I came down to tell you all this, I did not KNOW who Mrs.
+Staines was. I suspected; but no more. The second time I saw you in the
+church, and then I knew; and followed you to try and tell you all this;
+and you were not at home to me.”
+
+“Forgive me,” said Rosa carelessly: then earnestly, “The letter! when
+can I see it?”
+
+“I will send, or bring it.”
+
+“Bring it! I am in agony till I see it. Oh, my darling! my darling!
+It can't be true. It was not my Christie. He lies in the depths of the
+ocean. Lord Tadcaster was in the ship, and he says so; everybody says
+so.”
+
+“And I say he sleeps in hallowed ground, and these hands laid him
+there.”
+
+Rosa lifted her hands to heaven, and cried piteously, “I don't know what
+to think. You would not willingly deceive me. But how can this be?
+Oh, Uncle Philip, why are you away from me? Sir, you say he gave you a
+letter?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Oh, why, why did you not bring it?”
+
+“Because he told me the contents; and I thought he prized my poor
+efforts too highly. It did not occur to me you would doubt my word.”
+
+“Oh, no: no more I do: but I fear it was not my Christie.”
+
+“I'll go for the letter at once, Mrs. Staines.”
+
+“Oh, thank you! Bless you! Yes, this minute!”
+
+The artful rogue did not go; never intended.
+
+He rose TO GO; but had a sudden inspiration; very sudden, of course.
+“Had he nothing about him you could recognize him by?”
+
+“Yes, he had a ring I gave him.”
+
+Falcon took a black-edged envelope out of his pocket.
+
+“A ruby ring,” said she, beginning to tremble at his quiet action.
+
+“Is that it?” and he handed her a ruby ring.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+
+Mrs. Staines uttered a sharp cry and seized the ring. Her eyes dilated
+over it, and she began to tremble in every limb; and at last she sank
+slowly back, and her head fell on one side like a broken lily. The
+sudden sight of the ring overpowered her almost to fainting.
+
+Falcon rose to call for assistance; but she made him a feeble motion not
+to do so.
+
+She got the better of her faintness, and then she fell to kissing the
+ring, in an agony of love, and wept over it, and still held it, and
+gazed at it through her blinding tears.
+
+Falcon eyed her uneasily.
+
+But he soon found he had nothing to fear. For a long time she seemed
+scarcely aware of his presence; and when she noticed him, it was to
+thank him, almost passionately.
+
+“It was my Christie you were so good to: may Heaven bless you for it:
+and you will bring me his letter, will you not?”
+
+“Of course I will.”
+
+“Oh, do not go yet. It is all so strange: so sad. I seem to have lost
+my poor Christie again, since he did not die at sea. But no, I am
+ungrateful to God, and ungrateful to the kind friend that nursed him to
+the last. Ah, I envy you that. Tell me all. Never mind my crying. I
+have seen the time I could not cry. It was worse then than now. I shall
+always cry when I speak of him, ay, to my dying day. Tell me, tell me
+all.”
+
+Her passion frightened the egotist, but did not turn him. He had gone
+too far. He told her that, after raising all their hopes, Dr. Staines
+had suddenly changed for the worse, and sunk rapidly; that his last
+words had been about her, and he had said, “My poor Rosa, who will
+protect her?” That, to comfort him, he had said he would protect her.
+Then the dying man had managed to write a line or two, and to address
+it. Almost his last words had been, “Be a father to my child.”
+
+“That is strange.”
+
+“You have no child? Then it must have been you he meant. He spoke of you
+as a child more than once.”
+
+“Mr. Falcon, I have a child; but born since I lost my poor child's
+father.”
+
+“Then I think he knew it. They say that dying men can see all over
+the world: and I remember, when he said it, his eyes seemed fixed very
+strangely, as if on something distant. Oh, how wonderful all this is.
+May I see his child, to whom I promised”--
+
+The artist in lies left his sentence half completed.
+
+Rosa rang, and sent for her little boy.
+
+Mr. Falcon admired his beauty, and said quietly, “I shall keep my vow.”
+
+He then left her, with a promise to come back early next morning with
+the letter.
+
+She let him go only on those conditions.
+
+As soon as her father came in, she ran to him with this strange story.
+
+“I don't believe it,” said he. “It is impossible.”
+
+She showed him the proof, the ruby ring.
+
+Then he became very uneasy, and begged her not to tell a soul. He did
+not tell her the reason, but he feared the insurance office would hear
+of it, and require proofs of Christopher's decease, whereas they had
+accepted it without a murmur, on the evidence of Captain Hamilton and
+the Amphitrite's log-book.
+
+As for Falcon, he went carefully through Staines's two letters, and
+wherever he found a word that suited his purpose, he traced it by the
+usual process, and so, in the course of a few hours, he concocted a
+short letter, all the words in which, except three, were facsimiles,
+only here and there a little shaky; the three odd words he had
+to imitate by observation of the letters. The signature he got to
+perfection by tracing.
+
+He inserted this letter in the original envelope, and sealed it very
+carefully, so as to hide that the seal had been tampered with.
+
+Thus armed, he went down to Gravesend. There he hired a horse and rode
+to Kent Villa.
+
+Why he hired a horse, he knew how hard it is to forge handwriting, and
+he chose to have the means of escape at hand.
+
+He came into the drawing-room, ghastly pale, and almost immediately gave
+her the letter; then turned his back, feigning delicacy. In reality he
+was quaking with fear lest she should suspect the handwriting. But the
+envelope was addressed by Staines, and paved the way for the letter;
+she was unsuspicious and good, and her heart cried out for her husband's
+last written words: at such a moment, what chance had judgment and
+suspicion in an innocent and loving soul?
+
+Her eloquent sighs and sobs soon told the caitiff he had nothing to
+fear.
+
+The letter ran thus:--
+
+
+MY OWN ROSA,--All that a brother could do for a beloved brother, Falcon
+has done. He nursed me night and day. But it is vain. I shall never see
+you again in this world. I send you a protector, and a father to your
+child. Value him. He has promised to be your stay on earth, and my
+spirit shall watch over you.--To my last breath, your loving husband,
+
+CHRISTOPHER STAINES.
+
+
+Falcon rose, and began to steal on tiptoe out of the room.
+
+Rosa stopped him. “You need not go,” said she. “You are our friend. By
+and by I hope I shall find words to thank you.”
+
+“Pray let me retire a moment,” said the hypocrite. “A husband's last
+words: too sacred--a stranger:” and he went out into the garden. There
+he found the nursemaid Emily, and the little boy.
+
+He stopped the child, and made love to the nursemaid; showed her his
+diamonds--he carried them all about him--told her he had thirty thousand
+acres in Cape Colony, and diamonds on them; and was going to buy thirty
+thousand more of the government. “Here, take one,” said he. “Oh, you
+needn't be shy. They are common enough on my estates. I'll tell you
+what, though, you could not buy that for less than thirty pounds at any
+shop in London. Could she, my little duck? Never mind, it is no brighter
+than her eyes. Now do you know what she will do with that, Master
+Christie? She will give it to some duffer to put in a pin.”
+
+“She won't do nothing of the kind,” said Emily, flushing all over.
+“She is not such a fool.” She then volunteered to tell him she had no
+sweetheart, and did not trouble her head about young men at all. He
+interpreted this to mean she was looking out for one. So do I.
+
+“No sweetheart!” said he; “and the prettiest girl I have seen since I
+landed: then I put in for the situation.”
+
+Here, seeing the footman coming, he bestowed a most paternal kiss on
+little Christie, and saying, “Not a word to John, or no more diamonds
+from me;” he moved carefully away, leaving the girl all in a flutter
+with extravagant hopes.
+
+The next moment this wolf in the sheep-fold entered the drawing-room.
+Mrs. Staines was not there. He waited, and waited, and began to get
+rather uneasy, as men will who walk among pitfalls.
+
+Presently the footman came to say that Mrs. Staines was with her father,
+in his study, but she would come to him in five minutes.
+
+This increased his anxiety. What! She was taking advice of an older
+head. He began to be very seriously alarmed, and, indeed, had pretty
+well made up his mind to go down and gallop off, when the door opened,
+and Rosa came hastily in. Her eyes were very red with weeping. She came
+to him with both hands extended to him; he gave her his, timidly.
+She pressed them with such earnestness and power as he could not have
+suspected; and thanked him, and blessed him, with such a torrent of
+eloquence, that he hung his head with shame; and, being unable to face
+it out, villain as he was, yet still artful to the core, he pretended to
+burst out crying, and ran out of the room, and rode away.
+
+He waited two days, and then called again. Rosa reproached him sweetly
+for going before she had half thanked him.
+
+“All the better,” said he. “I have been thanked a great deal too much
+already. Who would not do his best for a dying countryman, and fight
+night and day to save him for his wife and child at home? If I had
+succeeded, then I would be greedy of praise: but now it makes me blush;
+it makes me very sad.”
+
+“You did your best,” said Rosa tearfully.
+
+“Ah! that I did. Indeed, I was ill for weeks after, myself, through the
+strain upon my mind, and the disappointment, and going so many nights
+without sleep. But don't let us talk of that.”
+
+“Do you know what my darling says to me in my letter?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Would you like to see it?”
+
+“Indeed I should; but I have no right.”
+
+“Every right. It is the only mark of esteem, worth anything, I can show
+you.”
+
+She handed him the letter, and buried her own face in her hands.
+
+He read it, and acted the deepest emotion.
+
+He handed it back, without a word.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+
+From this time Falcon was always welcome at Kent Villa. He fascinated
+everybody in the house. He renewed his acquaintance with Mr. Lusignan,
+and got asked to stay a week in the house. He showed Rosa and her
+father the diamonds, and, the truth must be owned, they made Rosa's eyes
+sparkle for the first time this eighteen months. He insinuated rather
+than declared his enormous wealth.
+
+In reply to the old man's eager questions, as the large diamonds lay
+glittering on the table, and pointed every word, he said that a few
+of his Hottentots had found these for him; he had made them dig on a
+diamondiferous part of his estate, just by way of testing the matter;
+and this was the result; this, and a much larger stone, for which he had
+received eight thousand pounds from Posno.
+
+“If I was a young man,” said Lusignan, “I would go out directly, and dig
+on your estate.”
+
+“I would not let you do anything so paltry,” said “le Menteur.” “Why, my
+dear sir, there are no fortunes to be made by grubbing for diamonds; the
+fortunes are made out of the diamonds, but not in that way. Now, I
+have thirty thousand acres, and am just concluding a bargain for thirty
+thousand more, on which I happen to know there are diamonds in a sly
+corner. Well, of my thirty thousand tried acres, a hundred only are
+diamondiferous. But I have four thousand thirty-foot claims leased at
+ten shillings per month. Count that up.”
+
+“Why, it is twenty-four thousand pounds a year.”
+
+“Excuse me: you must deduct a thousand a year for the expenses of
+collection. But this is only one phase of the business. I have a large
+inn upon each of the three great routes from the diamonds to the coast;
+and these inns are supplied with the produce of my own farms. Mark the
+effect of the diamonds on property. My sixty thousand acres, which are
+not diamondiferous, will very soon be worth as much as sixty thousand
+English acres, say two pounds the acre per annum. That is under the
+mark, because in Africa the land is not burdened with poor-rates,
+tithes, and all the other iniquities that crush the English land-owner,
+as I know to my cost. But that is not all, sir. Would you believe it?
+even after the diamonds were declared, the people out there had so
+little foresight that they allowed me to buy land all round Port
+Elizabeth, Natal, and Cape Town, the three ports through which the world
+get at the diamonds, and the diamonds get at the world. I have got a
+girdle of land round those three outlets, bought by the acre; in two
+years I shall sell it by the yard. Believe me, sir, English fortunes,
+even the largest, are mere child's play, compared with the colossal
+wealth a man can accumulate, if he looks beyond these great discoveries
+to their consequences, and lets others grub for him. But what is the use
+of it all to me?” said this Bohemian, with a sigh. “I have no taste for
+luxuries; no love of display. I have not even charity to dispense on a
+large scale; for there are no deserving poor out there; and the poverty
+that springs from vice, that I never will encourage.”
+
+John heard nearly all this, and took it into the kitchen; and
+henceforth Adoration was the only word for this prince of men, this rare
+combination of the Adonis and the millionnaire.
+
+He seldom held such discourses before Rosa; but talked her father into
+an impression of his boundless wealth, and half reconciled him to Rosa's
+refusal of Lord Tadcaster, since here was an old suitor, who, doubtless,
+with a little encouragement, would soon come on again.
+
+Under this impression, Mr. Lusignan gave Falcon more than a little
+encouragement, and, as Rosa did not resist, he became a constant visitor
+at the villa, and was always there from Saturday to Monday.
+
+He exerted all his art of pleasing, and he succeeded. He was welcome to
+Rosa, and she made no secret of it.
+
+Emily threw herself in his way, and had many a sly talk with him, while
+he was pretending to be engaged with young Christie. He flattered her,
+and made her sweet on him, but was too much in love with Rosa, after
+his fashion, to flirt seriously with her. He thought he might want her
+services: so he worked upon her after this fashion; asked her if she
+would like to keep an inn.
+
+“Wouldn't I just?” said she frankly.
+
+Then he told her that, if all went to his wish in England, she should be
+landlady of one of his inns in the Cape Colony. “And you will get a good
+husband out there directly,” said he. “Beauty is a very uncommon thing
+in those parts. But I shall ask you to marry somebody who can help you
+in the business--or not to marry at all.”
+
+“I wish I had the inn,” said Emily. “Husbands are soon got when a girl
+hasn't her face only to look to.”
+
+“Well, I promise you the inn,” said he, “and a good outfit of clothes,
+and money in both pockets, if you will do me a good turn here in
+England.”
+
+“That I would, sir. But, laws, what can a poor girl like me do for a
+rich gentleman like you?”
+
+“Can you keep a secret, Emily?”
+
+“Nobody better. You try me, sir.”
+
+He looked at her well; saw she was one of those who could keep a secret,
+if she chose, and he resolved to risk it.
+
+“Emily, my girl,” said he sadly, “I am an unhappy man.”
+
+“You, sir! Why, you didn't ought to be.”
+
+“I am then. I am in love; and cannot win her.”
+
+Then he told the girl a pretty tender tale, that he had loved Mrs.
+Staines when she was Miss Lusignan, had thought himself beloved in
+turn, but was rejected; and now, though she was a widow, he had not the
+courage to court her, her heart was in the grave. He spoke in such a
+broken voice that the girl's good-nature fought against her little pique
+at finding how little he was smitten with HER, and Falcon soon found
+means to array her cupidity on the side of her good-nature. He gave her
+a five-pound note to buy gloves, and promised her a fortune, and she
+undertook to be secret as the grave, and say certain things adroitly to
+Mrs. Staines.
+
+Accordingly, this young woman omitted no opportunity of dropping a word
+in favor of Falcon. For one thing, she said to Mrs. Staines, “Mr. Falcon
+must be very fond of children, ma'am. Why, he worships Master Christie.”
+
+“Indeed! I have not observed that.”
+
+“Why, no, ma'am. He is rather shy over it; but when he sees us alone, he
+is sure to come to us, and say, 'Let me look at my child, nurse;' and
+he do seem fit to eat him. Onst he says to me, 'This boy is my heir,
+nurse.' What did he mean by that, ma'am?”
+
+“I don't know.”
+
+“Is he any kin to you, ma'am?”
+
+“None whatever. You must have misunderstood him. You should not repeat
+all that people say.”
+
+“No, ma'am; only I did think it so odd. Poor gentleman, I don't think he
+is happy, for all his money.”
+
+“He is too good to be unhappy all his life.”
+
+“So I think, ma'am.”
+
+These conversations were always short, for Rosa, though she was too kind
+and gentle to snub the girl, was also too delicate to give the least
+encouragement to her gossip.
+
+But Rosa's was a mind that could be worked upon, and these short but
+repeated eulogies were not altogether without effect.
+
+At last the insidious Falcon, by not making his approaches in a way to
+alarm her, acquired her friendship as well as her gratitude; and, in
+short, she got used to him and liked him. Not being bound by any limit
+of fact whatever, he entertained her, and took her out of herself
+a little by extemporaneous pictures; he told her all his thrilling
+adventures by flood and field, not one of which had ever occurred, yet
+he made them all sound like truth; he invented strange characters, and
+set them talking; he went after great whales, and harpooned one, which
+slapped his boat into fragments with one stroke of its tail; then died,
+and he hung on by the harpoon protruding from the carcass till a
+ship came and picked him up. He shot a lion that was carrying off
+his favorite Hottentot. He encountered another, wounded him with both
+barrels, was seized, and dragged along the ground, and gave himself up
+for lost, but kept firing his revolver down the monster's throat till at
+last he sickened him, and so escaped out of death's maw; he did NOT say
+how he had fired in the air, and ridden fourteen miles on end, at the
+bare sight of a lion's cub; but, to compensate that one reserve, plunged
+into a raging torrent and saved a drowning woman by her long hair, which
+he caught in his teeth; he rode a race on an ostrich against a friend on
+a zebra, which went faster, but threw his rider, and screamed with rage
+at not being able to eat him; he, Falcon, having declined to run unless
+his friend's zebra was muzzled. He fed the hungry, clothed the naked,
+and shot a wild elephant in the eye; and all this he enlivened with
+pictorial descriptions of no mean beauty, and as like South Africa as if
+it had been feu George Robins advertising that continent for sale.
+
+In short, never was there a more voluble and interesting liar by word of
+mouth, and never was there a more agreeable creature interposed between
+a bereaved widow and her daily grief and regrets. He diverted her mind
+from herself, and did her good.
+
+At last, such was the charm of infinite lying, she missed him on the
+days he did not come, and was brighter when he did come and lie.
+
+Things went smoothly, and so pleasantly, that he would gladly have
+prolonged this form of courtship for a month or two longer, sooner than
+risk a premature declaration. But more than one cause drove him to a
+bolder course; his passion, which increased in violence by contact with
+its beautiful object, and also a great uneasiness he felt at not hearing
+from Phoebe. This silence was ominous. He and she knew each other, and
+what the other was capable of. He knew she was the woman to cross the
+seas after him, if Staines left the diggings, and any explanation took
+place that might point to his whereabouts.
+
+These double causes precipitated matters, and at last he began to throw
+more devotion into his manner; and having so prepared her for a few
+days, he took his opportunity and said, one day, “We are both unhappy.
+Give me the right to console you.”
+
+She colored high, and said, “You have consoled me more than all the
+world. But there is a limit; always will be.”
+
+One less adroit would have brought her to the point; but this artist
+only sighed, and let the arrow rankle. By this means he out-fenced her;
+for now she had listened to a declaration and not stopped it short.
+
+He played melancholy for a day or two, and then he tried her another
+way. He said, “I promised your dying husband to be your protector, and
+a father to his child. I see but one way to keep my word, and that gives
+me courage to speak--without that I never could. Rosa, I loved you years
+ago, I am unmarried for your sake. Let me be your husband, and a father
+to your child.”
+
+Rosa shook her head. “I COULD not marry again. I esteem you, I am very
+grateful to you: and I know I behaved ill to you before. If I could
+marry again, it would be you. But I cannot. Oh, never! never!”
+
+“Then we both are to be unhappy all our days.”
+
+“I shall, as I ought to be. You will not, I hope. I shall miss you
+sadly; but, for all that, I advise you to leave me. You will carry my
+everlasting gratitude, go where you will; that and my esteem are all I
+have to give.”
+
+“I will go,” said he; “and I hope he who is gone will forgive my want of
+courage.”
+
+“He who is gone took my promise never to marry again.”
+
+“Dying men see clearer. I am sure he wished--no matter; it is too
+delicate.” He kissed her hand and went out, a picture of dejection.
+
+Mrs. Staines shed a tear for him.
+
+Nothing was heard of him for several days; and Rosa pitied him more and
+more, and felt a certain discontent with herself, and doubt whether she
+had done right.
+
+Matters were in this state, when one morning Emily came screaming in
+from the garden, “The child!--Master Christie!--Where is he?--Where is
+he?”
+
+The house was alarmed. The garden searched, the adjoining paddock. The
+child was gone.
+
+Emily was examined, and owned, with many sobs and hysterical cries, that
+she had put him down in the summer-house for a minute, while she went to
+ask the gardener for some balm, balm tea being a favorite drink of hers.
+“But there was nobody near that I saw,” she sobbed.
+
+Further inquiry proved, however, that a tall gypsy woman had been seen
+prowling about that morning; and suspicion instantly fastened on her.
+Servants were sent out right and left; but nothing discovered; and the
+agonized mother, terrified out of her wits, had Falcon telegraphed to
+immediately.
+
+He came galloping down that very evening, and heard the story. He
+galloped into Gravesend, and after seeing the police, sent word out he
+should advertise. He placarded Gravesend with bills, offering a reward
+of a thousand pounds, the child to be brought to him, and no questions
+asked.
+
+Meantime the police and many of the neighboring gentry came about the
+miserable mother with their vague ideas.
+
+Down comes Falcon again next day; tells what he has done, and treats
+them all with contempt. “Don't you be afraid, Mrs. Staines,” said he.
+“You will get him back. I have taken the sure way. This sort of rogues
+dare not go near the police, and the police can't find them. You have no
+enemies; it is only some woman that has fancied a beautiful child. Well,
+she can have them by the score, for a thousand pounds.”
+
+He was the only one with a real idea; the woman saw it, and clung to
+him. He left late at night.
+
+Next morning out came the advertisements, and he sent her a handful by
+special messenger. His zeal and activity kept her bereaved heart from
+utter despair.
+
+At eleven that night came a telegraph:--
+
+
+“I have got him. Coming down by special train.”
+
+
+Then what a burst of joy and gratitude! The very walls of the house
+seemed to ring with it as a harp rings with music. A special train, too!
+he would not let the mother yearn all night.
+
+At one in the morning he drove up with the child and a hired nurse.
+
+Imagine the scene! The mother's screams of joy, her furious kisses, her
+cooing, her tears, and all the miracles of nature at such a time. The
+servants all mingled with their employers in the general rapture, and
+Emily, who was pale as death, cried and sobbed, and said, “Oh, ma'am,
+I'll never let him out of my sight again, no, not for one minute.”
+ Falcon made her a signal, and went out. She met him in the garden.
+
+She was much agitated, and cried, “Oh, you did well to bring him to-day.
+I could not have kept it another hour. I'm a wretch.”
+
+“You are a good kind girl; and here's the fifty pounds I promised you.”
+
+“Well, and I have earned it.”
+
+“Of course you have. Meet me in the garden to-morrow morning, and I'll
+show you you have done a kind thing to your mistress, as well as me. And
+as for the fifty pounds, that is NOTHING; do you hear? it is nothing at
+all, compared with what I will do for you, if you will be true to me,
+and hold your tongue.”
+
+“Oh! as for that, my tongue shan't betray you, nor shame ME. You are a
+gentleman, and I do think you love her, or I would not help you.”
+
+So she salved her nursemaid's conscience--with the help of the fifty
+pounds.
+
+The mother was left to her rapture that night. In the morning Falcon
+told his tale.
+
+“At two P.M. a man had called on him, and had produced one of his
+advertisements, and had asked him if that was all square--no bobbies on
+the lurk. 'All square, my fine fellow.' 'Well,' said he, 'I suppose you
+are a gentleman.' 'I am of that opinion too.' 'Well, sir,' says he,
+'I know a party as has FOUND a young gent as comes werry nigh your
+advertisement.' 'It will be a very lucky find to that party,' I said,
+'if he is on the square.' 'Oh, WE are always on the square, when the
+blunt is put down.' 'The blunt for the child, when you like, and where
+you like,' said I. 'You are the right sort,' said he. 'I am,' replied I.
+'Will you come and see if it is all right?' said he. 'In a minute,' said
+I. Stepped into my bedroom, and loaded my six-shooter.”
+
+“What is that?” said Lusignan.
+
+“A revolver with six barrels: by the by, the very same I killed the lion
+with. Ugh! I never think of that scene without feeling a little quiver;
+and my nerves are pretty good, too. Well, he took me into an awful part
+of the town, down a filthy close, into some boozing ken--I beg pardon,
+some thieves' public-house.”
+
+“Oh, my dear friend,” said Rosa, “were you not frightened?”
+
+“Shall I tell you the truth, or play the hero? I think I'll tell YOU the
+truth. I felt a little frightened, lest they should get my money and my
+life, without my getting my godson: that is what I call him now. Well,
+two ugly dogs came in, and said, 'Let us see the flimsies, before you
+see the kid.'
+
+“'That is rather sharp practice, I think,' said I; 'however, here's the
+swag, and here's the watch-dog.' So I put down the notes, and my hand
+over them with my revolver cocked, and ready to fire.”
+
+“Yes, yes,” said Rosa pantingly. “Ah, you were a match for them.”
+
+“Well, Mrs. Staines, if I was writing you a novel, I suppose I should
+tell you the rogues recoiled; but the truth is they only laughed, and
+were quite pleased. 'Swell's in earnest,' said one, 'Jem, show the
+kid.' Jem whistled, and in came a great tall black gypsy woman, with the
+darling. My heart was in my mouth, but I would not let them see it. I
+said, 'It is all right. Take half the notes here, and half at the door.'
+They agreed, and then I did it quick, walked to the door, took the
+child, gave them the odd notes, and made off as fast as I could, hired a
+nurse at the hospital--and the rest you know.”
+
+“Papa,” said Rosa, with enthusiasm, “there is but one man in England who
+would have got me back my child, and this is he.”
+
+When they were alone, Falcon told her she had said words that gladdened
+his very heart. “You admit I can carry out one half of his wishes?” said
+he.
+
+Mrs. Staines said “Yes,” then colored high; then, to turn it off, said,
+“But I cannot allow you to lose that large sum of money. You must let me
+repay you.”
+
+“Large sum of money!” said he. “It is no more to me than sixpence to
+most people. I don't know what to do with my money; and I never shall
+know, unless you will make a sacrifice of your own feelings to the
+wishes of the dead. O Mrs. Staines--Rosa, do pray consider that a man of
+that wisdom sees the future, and gives wise advice. Sure am I that,
+if you could overcome your natural repugnance to a second marriage, it
+would be the best thing for your little boy--I love him already as if
+he were my own--and in time would bring you peace and comfort, and some
+day, years hence, even happiness. You are my only love; yet I should
+never have come to you again if HE had not sent me. Do consider how
+strange it all is, and what it points to, and don't let me have the
+misery of losing you again, when you can do no better now, alas! than
+reward my fidelity.”
+
+She was much moved at this artful appeal, and said, “If I was sure I was
+obeying his will. But how can I feel that, when we both promised never
+to wed again?”
+
+“A man's dying words are more sacred than any other. You have his
+letter.”
+
+“Yes, but he does not say 'marry again.'”
+
+“That is what he meant, though.”
+
+“How can you say that? How can you know?”
+
+“Because I put the words he said to me together with that short line to
+you. Mind, I don't say that he did not exaggerate my poor merits; on the
+contrary, I think he did. But I declare to you that he did hope I should
+take care of you and your child. Right or wrong, it was his wish, so
+pray do not deceive yourself on that point.”
+
+This made more impression on her than anything else he could say, and
+she said, “I promise you one thing, I will never marry any man but you.”
+
+Instead of pressing her further, as an inferior artist would, he broke
+into raptures, kissed her hand tenderly, and was in such high spirits,
+and so voluble all day, that she smiled sweetly on him, and thought to
+herself, “Poor soul! how happy I could make him with a word!”
+
+As he was always watching her face--a practice he carried further than
+any person living--he divined that sentiment, and wrought upon it so,
+that at last he tormented her into saying she would marry him SOME DAY.
+
+When he had brought her to that, he raged inwardly to think he had not
+two years to work in; for it was evident she would marry him in time.
+But no, it had taken him more than four months, close siege, to bring
+her to that. No word from Phoebe. An ominous dread hung over his own
+soul. His wife would be upon him, or, worse still, her brother Dick,
+who he knew would beat him to a mummy on the spot; or, worst of all, the
+husband of Rosa Staines, who would kill him, or fling him into a prison.
+He MUST make a push.
+
+In this emergency he used his ally, Mr. Lusignan; he told him Mrs.
+Staines had promised to marry him, but at some distant date. This would
+not do; he must look after his enormous interests in the colony, and he
+was so much in love he could not leave her.
+
+The old gentleman was desperately fond of Falcon, and bent on the match,
+and he actually consented to give his daughter what Falcon called a
+little push.
+
+The little push was a very great one, I think.
+
+It consisted in directing the clergyman to call in church the banns of
+marriage between Reginald Falcon and Rosa Staines.
+
+They were both in church together when this was done. Rosa all but
+screamed, and then turned red as fire and white as a ghost, by turns.
+She never stood up again all the service; and in going home refused
+Falcon's arm, and walked swiftly home by herself. Not that she had the
+slightest intention of passing this monstrous thing by in silence. On
+the contrary, her wrath was boiling over, and so hot that she knew she
+should make a scene in the street if she said a word there.
+
+Once inside the house she turned on Falcon, with a white cheek and a
+flashing eye, and said, “Follow me, sir, if you please.” She led the
+way to her father's study. “Papa,” said she, “I throw myself on your
+protection. Mr. Falcon has affronted me.”
+
+“Oh, Rosa!” cried Falcon, affecting utter dismay.
+
+“Publicly--publicly: he has had the banns of marriage cried in the
+church, without my permission.”
+
+“Don't raise your voice so loud, child. All the house will hear you.”
+
+“I choose all the house to hear me. I will not endure it. I will never
+marry you now--never!”
+
+“Rosa, my child,” said Lusignan, “you need not scold poor Falcon, for I
+am the culprit. It was I who ordered the banns to be cried.”
+
+“Oh! papa, you had no right to do such a thing as that.”
+
+“I think I had. I exercised parental authority for once, and for your
+good, and for the good of a true and faithful lover of yours, whom you
+jilted once, and now you trifle with his affection and his interests.
+He loves you too well to leave you; yet you know his vast estates and
+interests require supervision.”
+
+“That for his vast estates!” said Rosa contemptuously. “I am not to be
+driven to the altar like this, when my heart is in the grave. Don't
+you do it again, papa, or I'll get up and forbid the banns; affront for
+affront.”
+
+“I should like to see that,” said the old gentleman dryly.
+
+Rosa vouchsafed no reply, but swept out of the room, with burning cheeks
+and glittering eyes, and was not seen all day, would not dine with them,
+in spite of three humble, deprecating notes Falcon sent her.
+
+“Let the spiteful cat alone,” said old Lusignan. “You and I will dine
+together in peace and quiet.”
+
+It was a dull dinner; but Falcon took advantage of the opportunity,
+impregnated the father with his views, and got him to promise to have
+the banns cried next Sunday. He consented.
+
+Rosa learned next Sunday morning that this was to be done, and her
+courage failed her. She did not go to church at all.
+
+She cried a great deal, and submitted to violence, as your true women
+are too apt to do. They had compromised her, and so conquered her. The
+permanent feelings of gratitude and esteem caused a reaction after her
+passion, and she gave up open resistance as hopeless.
+
+Falcon renewed his visits, and was received with the mere sullen languor
+of a woman who has given in.
+
+The banns were cried a third time.
+
+Then the patient Rosa bought laudanum enough to reunite her to her
+Christopher, in spite of them all; and having provided herself with this
+resource, became more cheerful, and even kind and caressing.
+
+She declined to name the day at present, and that was awkward.
+Nevertheless the conspirators felt sure they should tire her out into
+doing that, before long; for they saw their way clear, and she was
+perplexed in the extreme.
+
+In her perplexity, she used to talk to a certain beautiful star she
+called her Christopher. She loved to fancy he was now an inhabitant of
+that bright star; and often on a clear night she would look up, and beg
+for guidance from this star. This I consider foolish: but then I am old
+and sceptical; she was still young and innocent, and sorely puzzled to
+know her husband's real will.
+
+I don't suppose the star had anything to do with it, except as a
+focus of her thoughts; but one fine night, after a long inspection
+of Christopher's star, she dreamed a dream. She thought that a lovely
+wedding-dress hung over a chair, that a crown of diamonds as large
+as almonds sparkled ready for her on the dressing-table, and she was
+undoing her black gown, and about to take it off, when suddenly the
+diamonds began to pale, and the white satin dress to melt away, and
+in its place there rose a pale face and a long beard, and Christopher
+Staines stood before her, and said quietly, “Is this how you keep
+your vow?” Then he sank slowly, and the white dress was black, and the
+diamonds were jet; and she awoke, with his gentle words of remonstrance
+and his very tones ringing in her ear.
+
+This dream, co-operating with her previous agitation and misgivings,
+shook her very much; she did not come down-stairs till near dinner-time;
+and both her father and Falcon, who came as a matter of course to spend
+his Sunday, were struck with her appearance. She was pale, gloomy,
+morose, and had an air of desperation about her.
+
+Falcon would not see it; he knew that it is safest to let her sex alone
+when they look like that; and then the storm sometimes subsides of
+itself.
+
+After dinner, Rosa retired early; and soon she was heard walking rapidly
+up and down the dressing-room.
+
+This was quite unusual, and made a noise.
+
+Papa Lusignan thought it inconsiderate; and after a while, remarking
+gently that he was not particularly fond of sound, he proposed they
+should smoke the pipe of peace on the lawn.
+
+They did so; but after a while, finding that Falcon was not smoking, he
+said, “Don't let me detain you. Rosa is alone.”
+
+Falcon took the hint, and went to the drawing-room. Rosa met him on the
+stairs, with a scarf over her shoulders. “I must speak to papa,” said
+she. “Where is he?”
+
+“He is on the lawn, dear Rosa,” said Falcon, in his most dulcet tones.
+He was sure of his ally, and very glad to use him as a buffer to receive
+the first shock.
+
+So he went into the drawing-room, where all the lights were burning, and
+quietly took up a book. But he did not read a line; he was too occupied
+in trying to read his own future.
+
+The mean villain, who is incapable of remorse, is, of all men, most
+capable of fear. His villany had, to all appearance, reached the goal;
+for he felt sure that all Rosa's struggles would, sooner or later,
+succumb to her sense of gratitude and his strong will and patient
+temper. But when the victory was won, what a life! He must fly with
+her to some foreign country, pursued from pillar to post by an enraged
+husband, and by the offended law. And if he escaped the vindictive foe
+a year or two, how could he escape that other enemy he knew, and
+dreaded--poverty? He foresaw he should come to hate the woman he was
+about to wrong, and she would instantly revenge herself, by making him
+an exile and, soon or late, a prisoner, or a pauper.
+
+While these misgivings battled with his base but ardent passion, strange
+things were going on out of doors--but they will be best related in
+another sequence of events, to which indeed they fairly belong.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+
+Staines and Mrs. Falcon landed at Plymouth, and went up to town by the
+same train. They parted in London, Staines to go down to Gravesend, Mrs.
+Falcon to visit her husband's old haunts, and see if she could find him.
+
+She did not find him; but she heard of him, and learned that he always
+went down to Gravesend from Saturday till Monday.
+
+Notwithstanding all she had said to Staines, the actual information
+startled her, and gave her a turn. She was obliged to sit down, for her
+knees seemed to give way. It was but a momentary weakness. She was now
+a wife and a mother, and had her rights. She said to herself, “My rogue
+has turned that poor woman's head long before this, no doubt. But I
+shall go down and just bring him away by the ear.”
+
+For once her bitter indignation overpowered every other sentiment, and
+she lost no time, but late as it was went down to Gravesend, ordered a
+private sitting-room and bedroom for the night, and took a fly to Kent
+Villa.
+
+But Christopher Staines had the start of her. He had already gone down
+to Gravesend with his carpet-bag, left it at the inn, and walked to Kent
+Villa that lovely summer night, the happiest husband in England.
+
+His heart had never for one instant been disturbed by Mrs. Falcon's
+monstrous suspicion; he looked on her as a monomaniac; a sensible woman
+insane on one point, her husband.
+
+When he reached the villa, however, he thought it prudent to make sure
+that Falcon had come to England at all, and discharged his commission.
+He would not run the risk, small as he thought it, of pouncing
+unexpected on his Rosa, being taken for a ghost, and terrifying her, or
+exciting her to madness.
+
+Now the premises of Kent Villa were admirably adapted to what they call
+in war a reconnaissance. The lawn was studded with laurestinas and other
+shrubs that had grown magnificently in that Kentish air.
+
+Staines had no sooner set his foot on the lawn, than he heard voices;
+he crept towards them from bush to bush; and standing in impenetrable
+shade, he saw in the clear moonlight two figures--Mr. Lusignan and
+Reginald Falcon.
+
+These two dropped out only a word or two at intervals; but what they did
+say struck Staines as odd. For one thing, Lusignan remarked, “I suppose
+you will want to go back to the Cape. Such enormous estates as yours
+will want looking after.”
+
+“Enormous estates!” said Staines to himself. “Then they must have grown
+very fast in a few months.”
+
+“Oh, yes,” said Falcon; “but I think of showing her a little of Europe
+first.”
+
+Staines thought this still more mysterious; he waited to hear more, but
+the succeeding remarks were of an ordinary kind.
+
+He noticed, however, that Falcon spoke of his wife by her Christian
+name, and that neither party mentioned Christopher Staines. He seemed
+quite out of their little world.
+
+He began to feel a strange chill creep down him.
+
+Presently Falcon went off to join Rosa; and Staines thought it was
+quite time to ask the old gentleman whether Falcon had executed his
+commission, or not.
+
+He was only hesitating how to do it, not liking to pounce in the dark
+on a man who abhorred everything like excitement, when Rosa herself came
+flying out in great agitation.
+
+Oh! the thrill he felt at the sight of her! With all his
+self-possession, he would have sprung forward and taken her in his arms
+with a mighty cry of love, if she had not immediately spoken words that
+rooted him to the spot with horror. But she came with the words in her
+very mouth; “Papa, I am come to tell you I cannot, and will not, marry
+Mr. Falcon.”
+
+“Oh, yes, you will, my dear.”
+
+“Never! I'll die sooner. Not that you will care for that. I tell you
+I saw my Christopher last night--in a dream. He had a beard; but I saw
+him, oh, so plain; and he said, 'Is this the way you keep your promise?'
+That is enough for me. I have prayed, again and again, to his star,
+for light. I am so perplexed and harassed by you all, and you make me
+believe what you like. Well, I have had a revelation. It is not my poor
+lost darling's wish I should wed again. I don't believe Mr. Falcon any
+more. I hear nothing but lies by day. The truth comes to my bedside at
+night. I will not marry this man.”
+
+“Consider, Rosa, your credit is pledged. You must not be always jilting
+him heartlessly. Dreams! nonsense. There--I love peace. It is no use
+your storming at me; rave to the moon and the stars, if you like, and
+when you have done, do pray come in, and behave like a rational woman,
+who has pledged her faith to an honorable man, and a man of vast
+estates--a man that nursed your husband in his last illness, found your
+child, at a great expense, when you had lost him, and merits eternal
+gratitude, not eternal jilting. I have no patience with you.”
+
+The old gentleman retired in high dudgeon.
+
+Staines stood in the black shade of his cedar-tree, rooted to the ground
+by this revelation of male villany and female credulity.
+
+He did not know what on earth to do. He wanted to kill Falcon, but not
+to terrify his own wife to death. It was now too clear she thought he
+was dead.
+
+Rosa watched her father's retiring figure out of sight. “Very well,”
+ said she, clenching her teeth; then suddenly she turned, and looked up
+to heaven. “Do you hear?” said she, “my Christie's star? I am a poor
+perplexed creature. I asked you for a sign, and that very night I saw
+him in a dream. Why should I marry out of gratitude? Why should I marry
+one man, when I love another? What does it matter his being dead? I love
+him too well to be wife to any living man. They persuade me, they coax
+me, they pull me, they push me. I see they will make me. But I will
+outwit them. See--see!” and she held up a little phial in the moonlight.
+“This shall cut the knot for me; this shall keep me true to my Christie,
+and save me from breaking promises I ought never to have made. This
+shall unite me once more with him I killed, and loved.”
+
+She meant she would kill herself the night before the wedding, which
+perhaps she would not, and perhaps she would. Who can tell? The weak
+are violent. But Christopher, seeing the poison so near her lips, was
+perplexed, took two strides, wrenched it out of her hand, with a snarl
+of rage, and instantly plunged into the shade again.
+
+Rosa uttered a shriek, and flew into the house.
+
+The farther she got, the more terrified she became, and soon Christopher
+heard her screaming in the drawing-room in an alarming way. They were
+like the screams of the insane.
+
+He got terribly anxious, and followed her. All the doors were open.
+
+As he went up-stairs, he heard her cry, “His ghost! his ghost! I have
+seen his ghost! No, no. I feel his hand upon my arm now. A beard! and so
+he had in the dream! He is alive. My darling is alive. You have deceived
+me. You are an impostor--a villain. Out of the house this moment, or he
+shall kill you.”
+
+“Are you mad?” cried Falcon. “How can he be alive, when I saw him dead?”
+
+This was too much. Staines gave the door a blow with his arm, and strode
+into the apartment, looking white and tremendous.
+
+Falcon saw death in his face; gave a shriek, drew his revolver, and
+fired at him with as little aim as he had at the lioness; then made for
+the open window. Staines seized a chair, followed him, and hurled it
+at him; and the chair and the man went through the window together, and
+then there was a strange thud heard outside.
+
+Rosa gave a loud scream, and swooned away.
+
+Staines laid his wife flat on the floor, got the women about her, and at
+last she began to give the usual signs of returning life.
+
+Staines said to the oldest woman there, “If she sees me, she will go
+off again. Carry her to her room; and tell her, by degrees, that I am
+alive.”
+
+All this time Papa Lusignan had sat trembling and whimpering in a chair,
+moaning, “This is a painful scene--very painful.” But at last an idea
+struck him--“WHY, YOU HAVE ROBBED THE OFFICE!”
+
+Scarcely was Mrs. Staines out of the room, when a fly drove up, and this
+was immediately followed by violent and continuous screaming close under
+the window.
+
+“Oh, dear!” sighed Papa Lusignan.
+
+They ran down, and found Falcon impaled at full length on the spikes of
+the villa, and Phoebe screaming over him, and trying in vain to lift
+him off them. He had struggled a little, in silent terror, but had then
+fainted from fear and loss of blood, and lying rather inside the rails,
+which were high, he could not be extricated from the outside.
+
+As soon as his miserable condition was discovered, the servants ran down
+into the kitchen, and so up to the rails by the area steps. These
+rails had caught him; one had gone clean through his arm, the other had
+penetrated the fleshy part of the thigh, and a third pierced his ear.
+
+They got him off; but he was insensible, and the place drenched with his
+blood.
+
+Phoebe clutched Staines by the arm. “Let me know the worst,” said she.
+“Is he dead?”
+
+Staines examined him, and said “No.”
+
+“Can you save him?”
+
+“I?”
+
+“Yes. Who can, if you cannot? Oh, have mercy on me!” and she went on her
+knees to him, and put her forehead on his knees.
+
+He was touched by her simple faith; and the noble traditions of his
+profession sided with his gratitude to this injured woman. “My poor
+friend,” said he, “I will do my best, for YOUR sake.”
+
+He took immediate steps for stanching the blood; and the fly carried
+Phoebe and her villain to the inn at Gravesend.
+
+Falcon came to on the road; but finding himself alone with Phoebe,
+shammed unconsciousness of everything but pain.
+
+Staines, being thoroughly enraged with Rosa, yet remembering his solemn
+vow never to abuse her again, saw her father, and told him to tell her
+he should think over her conduct quietly, not wishing to be harder upon
+her than she deserved.
+
+Rosa, who had been screaming, and crying for joy, ever since she came to
+her senses, was not so much afflicted at this message as one might have
+expected. He was alive, and all things else were trifles.
+
+Nevertheless, when day after day went by, and not even a line from
+Christopher, she began to fear he would cast her off entirely; the more
+so as she heard he was now and then at Gravesend to visit Mrs. Falcon at
+the inn.
+
+While matters were thus, Uncle Philip burst on her like a bomb. “He is
+alive! he is alive! he is alive!” And they had a cuddle over it.
+
+“Oh, Uncle Philip! Have you seen him?”
+
+“Seen him? Yes. He caught me on the hop, just as I came in from Italy. I
+took him for a ghost.”
+
+“Oh, weren't you frightened?”
+
+“Not a bit. I don't mind ghosts. I'd have half a dozen to dinner every
+day, if I might choose 'em. I couldn't stand stupid ones. But I say,
+his temper isn't improved by all this dying: he is in an awful rage with
+you; and what for?”
+
+“O uncle! what for? Because I'm the vilest of women!”
+
+“Vilest of fiddlesticks! It's his fault, not yours. Shouldn't have died.
+It's always a dangerous experiment.”
+
+“I shall die if he will not forgive me. He keeps away from me and from
+his child.”
+
+“I'll tell you. He heard, in Gravesend, your banns had been cried: that
+has moved the peevish fellow's bile.”
+
+“It was done without my consent. Papa will tell you so; and, O uncle,
+if you knew the arts, the forged letter in my darling's hand, the way he
+wrought on me! O villain! villain! Uncle, forgive your poor silly niece,
+that the world is too wicked and too clever for her to live in.”
+
+“Because you are too good and innocent,” said Uncle Philip. “There,
+don't you be down-hearted. I'll soon bring you two together again--a
+couple of ninnies. I'll tell you what is the first thing: you must come
+and live with me. Come at once, bag and baggage. He won't show here, the
+sulky brute.”
+
+Philip Staines had a large house in Cavendish Square, a crusty old
+patient, like himself, had left him. It was his humor to live in a
+corner of this mansion, though the whole was capitally furnished by his
+judicious purchases at auctions.
+
+He gave Rosa and her boy and his nurse the entire first floor, and told
+her she was there for life. “Look here,” said he, “this last affair has
+opened my eyes. Such women as you are the sweeteners of existence. You
+leave my roof no more. Your husband will make the same discovery. Let
+him run about, and be miserable a bit. He will have to come to book.”
+
+She shook her head sadly.
+
+“My Christopher will never say a harsh word to me. All the worse for me.
+He will quietly abandon a creature so inferior to him.”
+
+“Stuff!”
+
+Now, she was always running to the window, in hope that Christopher
+would call on his uncle, and that she might see him; and one day she
+gave a scream so eloquent, Philip knew what it meant. “Get you behind
+that screen, you and your boy,” said he, “and be as still as mice. Stop!
+give me that letter the scoundrel forged, and the ring.”
+
+This was hardly done, and Rosa out of sight, and trembling from head
+to foot, when Christopher was announced. Philip received him very
+affectionately, but wasted no time.
+
+“Been to Kent Villa yet?”
+
+“No,” was the grim reply.
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“Because I have sworn never to say an angry word to her again; and, if
+I was to go there, I should say a good many angry ones. Oh, when I think
+that her folly drove me to sea, to do my best for her, and that I was
+nearer death for that woman than ever man was, and lost my reason for
+her, and went through toil and privations, hunger, exile, mainly
+for her, and then to find the banns cried in open church, with that
+scoundrel!--say no more, uncle. I shall never reproach her, and never
+forgive her.”
+
+“She was deceived.”
+
+“I don't doubt that; but nobody has a right to be so great a fool as all
+that.”
+
+“It was not her folly, but her innocence, that was imposed on. You a
+philosopher, and not know that wisdom itself is sometimes imposed on,
+and deceived by cunning folly! Have you forgotten your Milton?--
+
+     “'At Wisdom's gate, Suspicion sleeps,
+     And deems no ill where no ill seems.'
+
+“Come, come! are you sure you are not a little to blame? Did you write
+home the moment you found you were not dead?”
+
+Christopher colored high.
+
+“Evidently not,” said the keen old man. “Ah, my fine fellow! have I
+found the flaw in your own armor?”
+
+“I did wrong, but it was for her. I sinned for her. I could not bear her
+to be without money, and I knew the insurance--I sinned for her. She has
+sinned AGAINST me.”
+
+“And she had much better have sinned against God, hadn't she? He is more
+forgiving than we perfect creatures that cheat insurance companies. And
+so, my fine fellow, you hid the truth from her for two or three months.”
+
+No answer.
+
+“Strike off those two or three months; would the banns have ever been
+cried?”
+
+“Well, uncle,” said Christopher, hard pressed, “I am glad she has got a
+champion; and I hope you will always keep your eye on her.”
+
+“I mean to.”
+
+“Good-morning.”
+
+“No; don't be in a hurry. I have something else to say, not so
+provoking. Do you know the arts by which she was made to believe you
+wished her to marry again?”
+
+“I wished her to marry again! Are you mad, uncle?”
+
+“Whose handwriting is on this envelope?”
+
+“Mine, to be sure.”
+
+“Now, read the letter.”
+
+Christopher read the forged letter.
+
+“Oh, monstrous!”
+
+“This was given her with your ruby ring, and a tale so artful that
+nothing we read about the devil comes near it. This was what did it. The
+Earl of Tadcaster brought her title, and wealth, and love.”
+
+“What, he too! The little cub I saved, and lost myself for--blank him!
+blank him!”
+
+“Why, you stupid ninny! you forget you were dead; and he could not help
+loving her. How could he? Well, but you see she refused him. And why?
+because he came without a forged letter from YOU. Do you doubt her love
+for you?”
+
+“Of course I do. She never loved me as I loved her.”
+
+“Christopher, don't you say that before me, or you and I shall quarrel.
+Poor girl! she lay, in my sight, as near death for you as you were for
+her. I'll show you something.”
+
+He went to a cabinet, and took out a silver paper; he unpinned it, and
+laid Rosa's beautiful black hair upon her husband's knees. “Look at
+that, you hard-hearted brute!” he roared to Christopher, who sat,
+anything but hard-hearted, his eyes filling fast, at the sad proof of
+his wife's love and suffering.
+
+Rosa could bear no more. She came out with her boy in her hand. “O
+uncle, do not speak harshly to him, or you will kill me quite!”
+
+She came across the room, a picture of timidity and penitence, with her
+whole eloquent body bent forward at an angle. She kneeled at his knees,
+with streaming eyes, and held her boy up to him: “Plead for your poor
+mother, my darling. She mourns her fault, and will never excuse it.”
+
+The cause was soon decided. All Philip's logic was nothing, compared
+with mighty nature. Christopher gave one great sob, and took his darling
+to his heart, without one word; and he and Rosa clung together, and
+cried over each other. Philip slipped out of the room, and left the
+restored ones together.
+
+
+I have something more to say about my hero and heroine, but must first
+deal with other characters, not wholly uninteresting to the reader, I
+hope.
+
+Dr. Staines directed Phoebe Falcon how to treat her husband. No
+medicine, no stimulants; very wholesome food, in moderation, and
+the temperature of the body regulated by tepid water. Under these
+instructions, the injured but still devoted wife was the real healer.
+He pulled through, but was lame for life, and ridiculously lame, for he
+went with a spring halt,--a sort of hop-and-go-one that made the girls
+laugh, and vexed Adonis.
+
+Phoebe found the diamonds, and offered them all to Staines, in expiation
+of his villany. “See,” she said, “he has only spent one.”
+
+Staines said he was glad of it, for her sake, for he must be just to his
+own family. He sold them for three thousand two hundred pounds; but
+for the big diamond he got twelve thousand pounds, and I believe it was
+worth double the money.
+
+Counting the two sums, and deducting six hundred for the stone Mr.
+Falcon had embezzled, he gave her over seven thousand pounds.
+
+She stared at him, and changed color at so large a sum. “But I have no
+claim on that, sir.”
+
+“That is a good joke,” said he. “Why, you and I are partners in the
+whole thing--you and I and Dick. Was it not with his horse and rifle I
+bought the big diamond? Poor dear, honest, manly Dick! No, the money is
+honestly yours, Mrs. Falcon; but don't trust a penny to your husband.”
+
+“He will never see it, sir. I shall take him back, and give him all his
+heart can ask for, with this; but he will be little more than a servant
+in the house now, as long as Dick is single; I know that;” and she could
+still cry at the humiliation of her villain.
+
+Staines made her promise to write to him; and she did write him a sweet,
+womanly letter, to say that they were making an enormous fortune, and
+hoped to end their days in England. Dick sent his kind love and thanks.
+
+I will add, what she only said by implication, that she was happy after
+all. She still contrived to love the thing she could not respect. Once,
+when an officious friend pitied her for her husband's lameness, she
+said, “Find me a face like his. The lamer the better; he can't run after
+the girls, like SOME.”
+
+Dr. Staines called on Lady Cicely Treherne; the footman stared. He left
+his card.
+
+A week afterwards, she called on him. She had a pink tinge in her
+cheeks, a general animation, and her face full of brightness and
+archness.
+
+“Bless me!” said he bluntly, “is this you? How you are improved!”
+
+“Yes,” said she; “and I am come to thank you for your pwescwiption: I
+followed it to the lettaa.”
+
+“Woe is me! I have forgotten it.”
+
+“You diwected me to mawwy a nice man.”
+
+“Never: I hate a nice man.”
+
+“No, no--an Iwishman: and I have done it.”
+
+“Good gracious! you don't mean that! I must be more cautious in my
+prescriptions. After all, it seems to agree.”
+
+“Admiwably.”
+
+“He loves you?”
+
+“To distwaction.”
+
+“He amuses you?”
+
+“Pwodigiously. Come and see.”
+
+
+Dr. and Mrs. Staines live with Uncle Philip. The insurance money is
+returned, but the diamond money makes them very easy. Staines follows
+his profession now under great advantages: a noble house, rent free; the
+curiosity that attaches to a man who has been canted out of a ship in
+mid-ocean, and lives to tell it; and then Lord Tadcaster, married into
+another noble house, swears by him, and talks of him; so does Lady
+Cicely Munster, late Treherne; and when such friends as these are warm,
+it makes a physician the centre of an important clientele; but his
+best friend of all is his unflagging industry, and his truly wonderful
+diagnosis, which resembles divination. He has the ball at his feet, and
+above all, that without which worldly success soon palls, a happy home,
+a fireside warm with sympathy.
+
+Mrs. Staines is an admiring, sympathizing wife, and an admirable
+housekeeper. She still utters inadvertencies now and then, commits new
+errors at odd times, but never repeats them when exposed. Observing
+which docility, Uncle Philip has been heard to express a fear that,
+in twenty years, she will be the wisest woman in England. “But, thank
+heaven!” he adds, “I shall be gone before that.”
+
+Her conduct and conversation afford this cynic constant food for
+observation; and he has delivered himself oracularly at various stages
+of the study: but I cannot say that his observations, taken as a whole,
+present that consistency which entitles them to be regarded as a body
+of philosophy. Examples: In the second month after Mrs. Staines came to
+live with him, he delivered himself thus: “My niece Rosa is an anomaly.
+She gives you the impression she is shallow. Mind your eye: in one
+moment she will take you out of your depth or any man's depth. She is
+like those country streams I used to fish for pike when I was young;
+you go along, seeing the bottom everywhere; but presently you come to
+a corner, and it is fifteen deep all in a moment, and souse you go over
+head and ears: that's my niece Rosa.”
+
+In six months he had got to this--and, mind you, each successive dogma
+was delivered in a loud, aggressive tone, and in sublime oblivion of the
+preceding oracle--“My niece Rosa is the most artful woman. (You may haw!
+haw! haw! as much as you like. You have not found out her little game--I
+have.) What is the aim of all women? To be beloved by an unconscionable
+number of people. Well, she sets up for a simpleton, and so disarms all
+the brilliant people, and they love her. Everybody loves her. Just you
+put her down in a room with six clever women, and you will see who is
+the favorite. She looks as shallow as a pond, and she is as deep as the
+ocean.”
+
+At the end of the year he threw off the mask altogether. “The great
+sweetener of a man's life,” said he, “is 'a simpleton.' I shall not go
+abroad any more; my house has become attractive: I've got a simpleton.
+When I have a headache, her eyes fill with tender concern, and she
+hovers about me and pesters me with pillows: when I am cross with her,
+she is afraid I am ill. When I die, and leave her a lot of money,
+she will howl for months, and say I don't want his money: 'I
+waw-waw-waw-waw-want my Uncle Philip, to love me, and scold me.' One
+day she told me, with a sigh, I hadn't lectured her for a month. 'I am
+afraid I have offended you,' says she, 'or else worn you out, dear.'
+When I am well, give me a simpleton, to make me laugh. When I am
+ill, give me a simpleton to soothe me with her innocent tenderness. A
+simpleton shall wipe the dews of death, and close my eyes: and when I
+cross the river of death, let me be met by a band of the heavenly host,
+who were all simpletons here on earth, and too good for such a hole, so
+now they are in heaven, and their garments always white--because there
+are no laundresses there.”
+
+Arrived at this point, the Anglo-Saxon race will retire, grinning, to
+fresh pastures, and leave this champion of “a Simpleton,” to thunder
+paradoxes in a desert.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Simpleton, by Charles Reade
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+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      A Simpleton, by Charles Reade
+    </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 A Simpleton, by Charles Reade
+
+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: A Simpleton
+
+Author: Charles Reade
+
+Release Date: May 16, 2006 [EBook #2301]
+Last Updated: March 5, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SIMPLETON ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      A SIMPLETON
+    </h1>
+    <h2>
+      By Charles Reade
+    </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_PREF"> PREFACE. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <big><b>A SIMPLETON.</b></big> </a>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </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 class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </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 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>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a>
+      </p>
+    </blockquote>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      PREFACE.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It has lately been objected to me, in studiously courteous terms of
+      course, that I borrow from other books, and am a plagiarist. To this I
+      reply that I borrow facts from every accessible source, and am not a
+      plagiarist. The plagiarist is one who borrows from a homogeneous work: for
+      such a man borrows not ideas only, but their treatment. He who borrows
+      only from heterogeneous works is not a plagiarist. All fiction, worth a
+      button, is founded on facts; and it does not matter one straw whether the
+      facts are taken from personal experience, hearsay, or printed books; only
+      those books must not be works of fiction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ask your common sense why a man writes better fiction at forty than he can
+      at twenty. It is simply because he has gathered more facts from each of
+      these three sources,&mdash;experience, hearsay, print.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To those who have science enough to appreciate the above distinction, I am
+      very willing to admit that in all my tales I use a vast deal of
+      heterogeneous material, which in a life of study I have gathered from men,
+      journals, blue-books, histories, biographies, law reports, etc. And if I
+      could, I would gladly specify all the various printed sources to which I
+      am indebted. But my memory is not equal to such a feat. I can only say
+      that I rarely write a novel without milking about two hundred
+      heterogeneous cows into my pail, and that &ldquo;A Simpleton&rdquo; is no exception to
+      my general method; that method is the true method, and the best, and if on
+      that method I do not write prime novels, it is the fault of the man, and
+      not of the method.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I give the following particulars as an illustration of my method:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In &ldquo;A Simpleton,&rdquo; the whole business of the girl spitting blood, the
+      surgeon ascribing it to the liver, the consultation, the final solution of
+      the mystery, is a matter of personal experience accurately recorded. But
+      the rest of the medical truths, both fact and argument, are all from
+      medical books far too numerous to specify. This includes the strange
+      fluctuations of memory in a man recovering his reason by degrees. The
+      behavior of the doctor's first two patients I had from a surgeon's
+      daughter in Pimlico. The servant-girl and her box; the purple-faced,
+      pig-faced Beak and his justice, are personal experience. The business of
+      house-renting, and the auction-room, is also personal experience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the nautical business I had the assistance of two practical seamen: my
+      brother, William Barrington Reade, and Commander Charles Edward Reade,
+      R.N.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the South African business I gleaned from Mr. Day's recent handbooks;
+      the old handbooks; Galton's &ldquo;Vacation Tourist;&rdquo; &ldquo;Philip Mavor; or, Life
+      among the Caffres;&rdquo; &ldquo;Fossor;&rdquo; &ldquo;Notes on the Cape of Good Hope,&rdquo; 1821;
+      &ldquo;Scenes and Occurrences in Albany and Caffre-land,&rdquo; 1827; Bowler's &ldquo;South
+      African Sketches;&rdquo; &ldquo;A Campaign in South Africa,&rdquo; Lucas; &ldquo;Five Years in
+      Caffre-land,&rdquo; Mrs. Ward; etc., etc., etc. But my principal obligation on
+      this head is to Mr. Boyle, the author of some admirable letters to the
+      Daily telegraph, which he afterwards reprinted in a delightful volume. Mr.
+      Boyle has a painter's eye, and a writer's pen, and if the African scenes
+      in &ldquo;A Simpleton&rdquo; please my readers, I hope they will go to the
+      fountain-head, where they will find many more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As to the plot and characters, they are invented.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The title, &ldquo;A Simpleton,&rdquo; is not quite new. There is a French play called
+      La Niaise. But La Niaise is in reality a woman of rare intelligence, who
+      is taken for a simpleton by a lot of conceited fools, and the play runs on
+      their blunders, and her unpretending wisdom. That is a very fine plot,
+      which I recommend to our female novelists. My aim in these pages has been
+      much humbler, and is, I hope, too clear to need explanation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      CHARLES READE. <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h1>
+      A SIMPLETON.
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      A young lady sat pricking a framed canvas in the drawing-room of Kent
+      Villa, a mile from Gravesend; she was making, at a cost of time and tinted
+      wool, a chair cover, admirably unfit to be sat upon&mdash;except by some
+      severe artist, bent on obliterating discordant colors. To do her justice,
+      her mind was not in her work; for she rustled softly with restlessness as
+      she sat, and she rose three times in twenty minutes, and went to the
+      window. Thence she looked down, over a trim flowery lawn, and long,
+      sloping meadows, on to the silver Thames, alive with steamboats ploughing,
+      white sails bellying, and great ships carrying to and fro the treasures of
+      the globe. From this fair landscape and epitome of commerce she retired
+      each time with listless disdain; she was waiting for somebody.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet she was one of those whom few men care to keep waiting. Rosa Lusignan
+      was a dark but dazzling beauty, with coal-black hair, and glorious dark
+      eyes, that seemed to beam with soul all day long; her eyebrows, black,
+      straightish, and rather thick, would have been majestic and too severe,
+      had the other features followed suit; but her black brows were succeeded
+      by long silky lashes, a sweet oval face, two pouting lips studded with
+      ivory, and an exquisite chin, as feeble as any man could desire in the
+      partner of his bosom. Person&mdash;straight, elastic, and rather tall.
+      Mind&mdash;nineteen. Accomplishments&mdash;numerous; a poor French
+      scholar, a worse German, a worse English, an admirable dancer, an
+      inaccurate musician, a good rider, a bad draughtswoman, a bad hairdresser,
+      at the mercy of her maid; a hot theologian, knowing nothing, a sorry
+      accountant, no housekeeper, no seamstress, a fair embroideress, a capital
+      geographer, and no cook.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Collectively, viz., mind and body, the girl we kneel to.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This ornamental member of society now glanced at the clock once more, and
+      then glided to the window for the fourth time. She peeped at the side a
+      good while, with superfluous slyness or shyness, and presently she drew
+      back, blushing crimson; then she peeped again, still more furtively; then
+      retired softly to her frame, and, for the first time, set to work in
+      earnest. As she plied her harpoon, smiling now, the large and vivid blush,
+      that had suffused her face and throat, turned from carnation to rose, and
+      melted away slowly, but perceptibly, and ever so sweetly; and somebody
+      knocked at the street door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The blow seemed to drive her deeper into her work. She leaned over it,
+      graceful as a willow, and so absorbed, she could not even see the door of
+      the room open and Dr. Staines come in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All the better: her not perceiving that slight addition to her furniture
+      gives me a moment to describe him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A young man, five feet eleven inches high, very square shouldered and deep
+      chested, but so symmetrical, and light in his movements, that his size
+      hardly struck one at first. He was smooth shaved, all but a short, thick,
+      auburn whisker; his hair was brown. His features no more then comely: the
+      brow full, the eyes wide apart and deep-seated, the lips rather thin, but
+      expressive, the chin solid and square. It was a face of power, and capable
+      of harshness; but relieved by an eye of unusual color, between hazel and
+      gray, and wonderfully tender. In complexion he could not compare with
+      Rosa; his cheek was clear, but pale; for few young men had studied night
+      and day so constantly. Though but twenty-eight years of age, he was
+      literally a learned physician; deep in hospital practice; deep in books;
+      especially deep in German science, too often neglected or skimmed by
+      English physicians. He had delivered a course of lectures at a learned
+      university with general applause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As my reader has divined, Rosa was preparing the comedy of a cool
+      reception; but looking up, she saw his pale cheek tinted with a lover's
+      beautiful joy at the bare sight of her, and his soft eye so divine with
+      love, that she had not the heart to chill him. She gave him her hand
+      kindly, and smiled brightly on him instead of remonstrating. She lost
+      nothing by it, for the very first thing he did was to excuse himself
+      eagerly. &ldquo;I am behind time: the fact is, just as I was mounting my horse,
+      a poor man came to the gate to consult me. He had a terrible disorder I
+      have sometimes succeeded in arresting&mdash;I attack the cause instead of
+      the symptoms, which is the old practice&mdash;and so that detained me. You
+      forgive me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. Poor man!&mdash;only you said you wanted to see papa, and he
+      always goes out at two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When she had been betrayed into saying this, she drew in suddenly, and
+      blushed with a pretty consciousness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then don't let me lose another minute,&rdquo; said the lover. &ldquo;Have you
+      prepared him for&mdash;for&mdash;what I am going to have the audacity to
+      say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa answered, with some hesitation, &ldquo;I MUST have&mdash;a little. When I
+      refused Colonel Bright&mdash;you need not devour my hand quite&mdash;he is
+      forty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her sentence ended, and away went the original topic, and grammatical
+      sequence along with it. Christopher Staines recaptured them both. &ldquo;Yes,
+      dear, when you refused Colonel Bright&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, papa was astonished; for everybody says the colonel is a most
+      eligible match. Don't you hate that expression? I do. Eligible!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher made due haste, and recaptured her. &ldquo;Yes, love, your papa
+      said&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think I will tell you. He asked me was there anybody else; and of
+      course I said 'No.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that is nothing; I had not time to make up my mind to tell the truth.
+      I was taken by surprise; and you know one's first impulse is to fib&mdash;about
+      THAT.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But did you really deceive him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I blushed; and he caught me; so he said, 'Come, now, there was.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you said, 'Yes, there is,' like a brave girl as you are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, plump like that? No, I was frightened out of my wits, like a brave
+      girl as I am not, and said I should never marry any one he could
+      disapprove; and then&mdash;oh, then I believe I began to cry. Christopher,
+      I'll tell you something; I find people leave off teasing you when you cry&mdash;gentlemen,
+      I mean. Ladies go on all the more. So then dear papa kissed me, and told
+      me I must not be imprudent, and throw myself away, that was all; and I
+      promised him I never would. I said he would be sure to approve my choice;
+      and he said he hoped so. And so he will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines looked thoughtful, and said he hoped so too. &ldquo;But now it comes
+      to the point of asking him for such a treasure, I feel my deficiencies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, what deficiencies? You are young, and handsome, and good, and ever
+      so much cleverer than other people. You have only to ask for me, and
+      insist on having me. Come, dear, go and get it over.&rdquo; She added, mighty
+      coolly, &ldquo;There is nothing so DREADFUL as suspense.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll go this minute,&rdquo; said he, and took a step towards the door; but he
+      turned, and in a moment was at her knees. He took both her hands in his,
+      and pressed them to his beating bosom, while his beautiful eyes poured
+      love into hers point-blank. &ldquo;May I tell him you love me? Oh, I know you
+      cannot love me as I love you; but I may say you love me a little, may I
+      not?&mdash;that will go farther with him than anything else. May I, Rosa,
+      may I?&mdash;a little?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His passion mastered her. She dropped her head sweetly on his shoulder,
+      and murmured, &ldquo;You know you may, my own. Who would not love you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He parted lingeringly from her, then marched away, bold with love and
+      hope, to demand her hand in marriage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa leaned back in her chair, and quivered a little with new emotions.
+      Christopher was right; she was not capable of loving like him; but still
+      the actual contact of so strong a passion made her woman's nature vibrate.
+      A dewy tear hung on the fringes of her long lashes, and she leaned back in
+      her chair and fluttered awhile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That emotion, almost new to her, soon yielded, in her girlish mind, to a
+      complacent languor; and that, in its turn, to a soft reverie. So she was
+      going to be married! To be mistress of a house; settle in London (THAT she
+      had quite determined long ago); be able to go out into the streets all
+      alone, to shop, or visit; have a gentleman all her own, whom she could put
+      her finger on any moment and make him take her about, even to the opera
+      and the theatre; to give dinner-parties her own self, and even a little
+      ball once in a way; to buy whatever dresses she thought proper, instead of
+      being crippled by an allowance; have the legal right of speaking first in
+      society, even to gentlemen rich in ideas but bad starters, instead of
+      sitting mumchance and mock-modest; to be Mistress, instead of Miss&mdash;contemptible
+      title; to be a woman, instead of a girl; and all this rational liberty,
+      domestic power, and social dignity were to be obtained by merely wedding a
+      dear fellow, who loved her, and was so nice; and the bright career to be
+      ushered in with several delights, each of them dear to a girl's very soul:
+      presents from all her friends; as many beautiful new dresses as if she was
+      changing her body or her hemisphere, instead of her name; eclat; going to
+      church, which is a good English girl's theatre of display and temple of
+      vanity, and there tasting delightful publicity and whispered admiration,
+      in a heavenly long veil, which she could not wear even once if she
+      remained single.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This bright variegated picture of holy wedlock, and its essential
+      features, as revealed to young ladies by feminine tradition, though not
+      enumerated in the Book of Common Prayer writ by grim males, so entranced
+      her, that time flew by unheeded, and Christopher Staines came back from
+      her father. His step was heavy; he looked pale, and deeply distressed;
+      then stood like a statue, and did not come close to her, but cast a
+      piteous look, and gasped out one word, that seemed almost to choke him,&mdash;&ldquo;REFUSED!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Lusignan rose from her chair, and looked almost wildly at him with
+      her great eyes. &ldquo;Refused?&rdquo; said she, faintly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said he, sadly. &ldquo;Your father is a man of business; and he took a
+      mere business view of our love: he asked me directly what provision I
+      could make for his daughter and her children. Well, I told him I had three
+      thousand pounds in the Funds, and a good profession; and then I said I had
+      youth, health, and love, boundless love, the love that can do, or suffer,
+      the love that can conquer the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear Christopher! And what COULD he say to all that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He ignored it entirely. There! I'll give you his very words. He said, 'In
+      that case, Dr. Staines, the simple question is, what does your profession
+      bring you in per annum?'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! There! I always hated arithmetic, and now I abominate it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I was obliged to confess I had scarcely received a hundred pounds in
+      fees this year; but I told him the reason; this is such a small district,
+      and all the ground occupied. London, I said, was my sphere.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so it is,&rdquo; said Rosa, eagerly; for this jumped with her own little
+      designs. &ldquo;Genius is wasted in the country. Besides, whenever anybody worth
+      curing is ill down here, they always send to London for a doctor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I told him so, dearest,&rdquo; said the lover. &ldquo;But he answered me directly,
+      then I must set up in London, and as soon as my books showed an income to
+      keep a wife, and servants, and children, and insure my life for five
+      thousand pounds&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that is so like papa. He is director of an insurance company, so all
+      the world must insure their lives.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, dear, he was quite right there: professional incomes are most
+      precarious. Death spares neither young nor old, neither warm hearts nor
+      cold. I should be no true physician if I could not see my own mortality.&rdquo;
+       He hung his head and pondered a moment, then went on, sadly, &ldquo;It all comes
+      to this&mdash;until I have a professional income of eight hundred a year
+      at least, he will not hear of our marrying; and the cruel thing is, he
+      will not even consent to an engagement. But,&rdquo; said the rejected, with a
+      look of sad anxiety, &ldquo;you will wait for me without that, dear Rosa?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She could give him that comfort, and she gave it him with loving
+      earnestness. &ldquo;Of course I will; and it shall not be very long. Whilst you
+      are making your fortune, to please papa, I will keep fretting, and
+      pouting, and crying, till he sends for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bless you, dearest! Stop!&mdash;not to make yourself ill! not for all the
+      world.&rdquo; The lover and the physician spoke in turn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He came, all gratitude, to her side, and they sat, hand in hand,
+      comforting each other: indeed, parting was such sweet sorrow that they
+      sat, handed, and very close to one another, till Mr. Lusignan, who thought
+      five minutes quite enough for rational beings to take leave in, walked
+      into the room and surprised them. At sight of his gray head and iron-gray
+      eyebrows, Christopher Staines started up and looked confused; he thought
+      some apology necessary, so he faltered out, &ldquo;Forgive me, sir; it is a
+      bitter parting to me, you may be sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa's bosom heaved at these simple words. She flew to her father, and
+      cried, &ldquo;Oh, papa! papa! you were never cruel before;&rdquo; and hid her burning
+      face on his shoulder; and then burst out crying, partly for Christopher,
+      partly because she was now ashamed of herself for having taken a young
+      man's part so openly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Lusignan looked sadly discomposed at this outburst: she had taken him
+      by his weak point; he told her so. &ldquo;Now, Rosa,&rdquo; said he, rather peevishly,
+      &ldquo;you know I hate&mdash;noise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa had actually forgotten that trait for a single moment; but, being
+      reminded of it, she reduced her sobs in the prettiest way, not to offend a
+      tender parent who could not bear noise. Under this homely term, you must
+      know, he included all scenes, disturbances, rumpuses, passions; and
+      expected all men, women, and things in Kent Villa to go smoothly&mdash;or
+      go elsewhere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, young people,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;don't make a disturbance. Where's the
+      grievance? Have I said he shall never marry you? Have I forbidden him to
+      correspond? or even to call, say twice a year. All I say is, no marriage,
+      nor contract of marriage, until there is an income.&rdquo; Then he turned to
+      Christopher. &ldquo;Now if you can't make an income without her, how could you
+      make one with her, weighed down by the load of expenses a wife entails? I
+      know her better than you do; she is a good girl, but rather luxurious and
+      self-indulgent. She is not cut out for a poor man's wife. And pray don't
+      go and fancy that nobody loves my child but you. Mine is not so hot as
+      yours, of course; but believe me, sir, it is less selfish. You would
+      expose her to poverty and misery; but I say no; it is my duty to protect
+      her from all chance of them; and, in doing it, I am as much your friend as
+      hers, if you could but see it. Come, Dr. Staines, be a man, and see the
+      world as it is. I have told you how to earn my daughter's hand and my
+      esteem: you must gain both, or neither.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines was never quite deaf to reason: he now put his hand to his
+      brow and said, with a sort of wonder and pitiful dismay, &ldquo;My love for Rosa
+      selfish! Sir, your words are bitter and hard.&rdquo; Then, after a struggle, and
+      with rare and touching candor, &ldquo;Ay, but so are bark and steel; yet they
+      are good medicines.&rdquo; Then with a great glow in his heart and tears in his
+      eyes, &ldquo;My darling shall not be a poor man's wife, she who would adorn a
+      coronet, ay, or a crown. Good-by, Rosa, for the present.&rdquo; He darted to
+      her, and kissed her hand with all his soul. &ldquo;Oh, the sacrifice of leaving
+      you,&rdquo; he faltered; &ldquo;the very world is dark to me without you. Ah, well, I
+      must earn the right to come again.&rdquo; He summoned all his manhood, and
+      marched to the door. There he seemed to turn calmer all of a sudden, and
+      said firmly, yet humbly, &ldquo;I'll try and show you, sir, what love can do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I'll show you what love can suffer,&rdquo; said Rosa, folding her beautiful
+      arms superbly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was not in her to have shot such a bolt, except in imitation; yet how
+      promptly the mimic thunder came, and how grand the beauty looked, with her
+      dark brows, and flashing eyes, and folded arms! much grander and more
+      inspired than poor Staines, who had only furnished the idea.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But between these two figures swelling with emotion, the representative of
+      common sense, Lusignan pere, stood cool and impassive; he shrugged his
+      shoulders, and looked on both lovers as a couple of ranting novices he was
+      saving from each other and almshouses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For all that, when the lover had torn himself away, papa's composure was
+      suddenly disturbed by a misgiving. He stepped hastily to the stairhead,
+      and gave it vent. &ldquo;Dr. Staines,&rdquo; said he, in a loud whisper (Staines was
+      half way down the stairs: he stopped). &ldquo;I trust to you as a gentleman, not
+      to mention this; it will never transpire here. Whatever we do&mdash;no
+      noise!&rdquo;
+     </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>
+      Rosa Lusignan set herself pining as she had promised; and she did it
+      discreetly for so young a person. She was never peevish, but always sad
+      and listless. By this means she did not anger her parent, but only made
+      him feel she was unhappy, and the house she had hitherto brightened
+      exceeding dismal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By degrees this noiseless melancholy undermined the old gentleman, and he
+      well-nigh tottered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But one day, calling suddenly on a neighbor with six daughters, he heard
+      peals of laughter, and found Rosa taking her full share of the senseless
+      mirth. She pulled up short at sight of him, and colored high; but it was
+      too late, for he launched a knowing look at her on the spot, and muttered
+      something about seven foolish virgins.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He took the first opportunity, when they were alone, and told her he was
+      glad to find she was only dismal at home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Rosa had prepared for him. &ldquo;One can be loud without being gay at
+      heart,&rdquo; said she, with a lofty, languid air. &ldquo;I have not forgotten your
+      last words to HIM. We were to hide our broken hearts from the world. I try
+      to obey you, dear papa; but, if I had my way, I would never go into the
+      world at all. I have but one desire now&mdash;to end my days in a
+      convent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please begin them first. A convent! Why, you'd turn it out of window. You
+      are no more fit to be a nun than&mdash;a pauper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Not having foreseen this facer, Rosa had nothing ready; so she received it
+      with a sad, submissive, helpless sigh, as who would say, &ldquo;Hit me, papa: I
+      have no friend now.&rdquo; So then he was sorry he had been so clever; and,
+      indeed, there is one provoking thing about &ldquo;a woman's weakness&rdquo;&mdash;it
+      is invincible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next minute, what should come but a long letter from Dr. Staines,
+      detailing his endeavors to purchase a practice in London, and his
+      ill-success. The letter spoke the language of love and hope; but the facts
+      were discouraging; and, indeed, a touching sadness pierced through the
+      veil of the brave words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa read it again and again, and cried over it before her father, to
+      encourage him in his heartless behavior.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      About ten days after this, something occurred that altered her mood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She became grave and thoughtful, but no longer lugubrious. She seemed
+      desirous to atone to her father for having disturbed his cheerfulness. She
+      smiled affectionately on him, and often sat on a stool at his knee, and
+      glided her hand into his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was not a little pleased, and said to himself, &ldquo;She is coming round to
+      common-sense.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, on the contrary, she was farther from it than ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last he got the clew. One afternoon he met Mr. Wyman coming out of the
+      villa. Mr. Wyman was the consulting surgeon of that part.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! anybody ill?&rdquo; said Mr. Lusignan. &ldquo;One of the servants?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; it is Miss Lusignan.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, what is the matter with her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Wyman hesitated. &ldquo;Oh, nothing very alarming. Would you mind asking her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The fact is, she requested me not to tell you: made me promise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I insist upon your telling me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I think you are quite right, sir, as her father. Well, she is
+      troubled with a little spitting of blood.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Lusignan turned pale. &ldquo;My child! spitting of blood! God forbid!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, do not alarm yourself. It is nothing serious.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't tell me!&rdquo; said the father. &ldquo;It is always serious. And she kept this
+      from me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Masking his agitation for the time, he inquired how often it had occurred,
+      this grave symptom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Three or four times this last month. But I may as well tell you at once:
+      I have examined her carefully, and I do not think it is from the lungs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From the throat, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; from the liver. Everything points to that organ as the seat of
+      derangement: not that there is any lesion; only a tendency to congestion.
+      I am treating her accordingly, and have no doubt of the result.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is the ablest physician hereabouts?&rdquo; asked Lusignan, abruptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Snell, I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give me his address.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll write to him, if you like, and appoint a consultation.&rdquo; He added,
+      with vast but rather sudden alacrity, &ldquo;It will be a great satisfaction to
+      my own mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then send to him, if you please, and let him be here to-morrow morning;
+      if not, I shall take her to London for advice at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On this understanding they parted, and Lusignan went at once to his
+      daughter. &ldquo;O my child!&rdquo; said he, deeply distressed, &ldquo;how could you hide
+      this from me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hide what, papa?&rdquo; said the girl, looking the picture of unconsciousness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That you have been spitting blood.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who told you that?&rdquo; said she, sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wyman. He is attending you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa colored with anger. &ldquo;Chatterbox! He promised me faithfully not to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why, in Heaven's name? What! would you trust this terrible thing to a
+      stranger, and hide it from your poor father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Rosa, quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man would not scold her now; he only said, sadly, &ldquo;I see how it
+      is: because I will not let you marry poverty, you think I do not love
+      you.&rdquo; And he sighed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O papa! the idea!&rdquo; said Rosa. &ldquo;Of course, I know you love me. It was not
+      that, you dear, darling, foolish papa. There! if you must know, it was
+      because I did not want you to be distressed. I thought I might get better
+      with a little physic; and, if not, why, then I thought, 'Papa is an old
+      man; la! I dare say I shall last his time;' and so, why should I poison
+      your latter days with worrying about ME?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Lusignan stared at her, and his lip quivered; but he thought the trait
+      hardly consistent with her superficial character. He could not help
+      saying, half sadly, half bitterly, &ldquo;Well, but of course you have told Dr.
+      Staines.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa opened her beautiful eyes, like two suns. &ldquo;Of course I have done
+      nothing of the sort. He has enough to trouble him, without that. Poor
+      fellow! there he is, worrying and striving to make his fortune, and gain
+      your esteem&mdash;'they go together,' you know; you told him so.&rdquo; (Young
+      cats will scratch when least expected.) &ldquo;And for me to go and tell him I
+      am in danger! Why, he would go wild. He would think of nothing but me and
+      my health. He would never make his fortune: and so then, even when I am
+      gone, he will never get a wife, because he has only got genius and
+      goodness and three thousand pounds. No, papa, I have not told poor
+      Christopher. I may tease those I love. I have been teasing YOU this ever
+      so long; but frighten them, and make them miserable? No!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And here, thinking of the anguish that was perhaps in store for those she
+      loved, she wanted to cry; it almost choked her not to. But she fought it
+      bravely down: she reserved her tears for lighter occasions and less noble
+      sentiments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her father held out his arms to her. She ran her footstool to him, and sat
+      nestling to his heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please forgive me my misconduct. I have not been a dutiful daughter ever
+      since you&mdash;but now I will. Kiss me, my own papa! There! Now we are as
+      we always were.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she purred to him on every possible topic but the one that now filled
+      his parental heart, and bade him good-night at last with a cheerful smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Wyman was exact, and ten minutes afterwards Dr. Snell drove up in a
+      carriage and pair. He was intercepted in the hall by Wyman, and, after a
+      few minutes' conversation, presented to Mr. Lusignan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The father gave vent to his paternal anxiety in a few simple but touching
+      words, and was proceeding to state the symptoms as he had gathered them
+      from his daughter; but Dr. Snell interrupted him politely, and said he had
+      heard the principal symptoms from Mr. Wyman. Then, turning to the latter,
+      he said, &ldquo;We had better proceed to examine the patient.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; said Mr. Lusignan. &ldquo;She is in the drawing-room;&rdquo; and he led
+      the way, and was about to enter the room, when Wyman informed him it was
+      against etiquette for him to be present at the examination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, very well!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Yes, I see the propriety of that. But oblige me
+      by asking her if she has anything on her mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Snell bowed a lofty assent; for, to receive a hint from a layman was
+      to confer a favor on him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The men of science were closeted full half an hour with the patient. She
+      was too beautiful to be slurred over, even by a busy doctor: he felt her
+      pulse, looked at her tongue, and listened attentively to her lungs, to her
+      heart, and to the organ suspected by Wyman. He left her at last with a
+      kindly assurance that the case was perfectly curable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the door they were met by the anxious father, who came with throbbing
+      heart, and asked the doctors' verdict.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was coolly informed that could not be given until the consultation had
+      taken place; the result of that consultation would be conveyed to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And pray, why can't I be present at the consultation? The grounds on
+      which two able men agree or disagree must be well worth listening to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt,&rdquo; said Dr. Snell; &ldquo;but,&rdquo; with a superior smile, &ldquo;my dear sir, it
+      is not the etiquette.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, very well,&rdquo; said Lusignan. But he muttered, &ldquo;So, then, a father is
+      nobody!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And this unreasonable person retired to his study, miserable, and gave up
+      the dining-room to the consultation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They soon rejoined him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Snell's opinion was communicated by Wyman. &ldquo;I am happy to tell you
+      that Dr. Snell agrees with me, entirely: the lungs are not affected, and
+      the liver is congested, but not diseased.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that so, Dr. Snell?&rdquo; asked Lusignan, anxiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is so, sir.&rdquo; He added, &ldquo;The treatment has been submitted to me, and I
+      quite approve it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He then asked for a pen and paper, and wrote a prescription. He assured
+      Mr. Lusignan that the case had no extraordinary feature, whatever; he was
+      not to alarm himself. Dr. Snell then drove away, leaving the parent rather
+      puzzled, but, on the whole, much comforted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And here I must reveal an extraordinary circumstance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Wyman's treatment was by drugs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Snell's was by drugs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Snell, as you have seen, entirely approved Wyman's treatment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His own had nothing in common with it. The Arctic and Antarctic poles are
+      not farther apart than was his prescription from the prescription he
+      thoroughly approved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Amiable science! In which complete diversity of practice did not interfere
+      with perfect uniformity of opinion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All this was kept from Dr. Staines, and he was entirely occupied in trying
+      to get a position that might lead to fortune, and satisfy Mr. Lusignan. He
+      called on every friend he had, to inquire where there was an opening. He
+      walked miles and miles in the best quarters of London, looking for an
+      opening; he let it be known in many quarters that he would give a good
+      premium to any physician who was about to retire, and would introduce him
+      to his patients.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No: he could hear of nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, after a great struggle with himself, he called upon his uncle,
+      Philip Staines, a retired M.D., to see if he would do anything for him. He
+      left this to the last, for a very good reason: Dr. Philip was an irritable
+      old bachelor, who had assisted most of his married relatives; but, finding
+      no bottom to the well, had turned rusty and crusty, and now was apt to
+      administer kicks instead of checks to all who were near and dear to him.
+      However, Christopher was the old gentleman's favorite, and was now
+      desperate; so he mustered courage, and went. He was graciously received&mdash;warmly,
+      indeed. This gave him great hopes, and he told his tale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old bachelor sided with Mr. Lusignan. &ldquo;What!&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;do you want to
+      marry, and propagate pauperism? I thought you had more sense. Confound it
+      all I had just one nephew whose knock at my street-door did not make me
+      tremble; he was a bachelor and a thinker, and came for a friendly chat;
+      the rest are married men, highwaymen, who come to say, 'Stand and
+      deliver;' and now even you want to join the giddy throng. Well, don't ask
+      me to have any hand in it. You are a man of promise; and you might as well
+      hang a millstone round your neck as a wife. Marriage is a greater mistake
+      than ever now; the women dress more and manage worse. I met your cousin
+      Jack the other day, and his wife with seventy pounds on her back; and next
+      door to paupers. No; whilst you are a bachelor, like me, you are my
+      favorite, and down in my will for a lump. Once marry, and you join the
+      noble army of foot-pads, leeches, vultures, paupers, gone coons, and
+      babblers about brats&mdash;and I disown you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no hope from old Crusty. Christopher left him, snubbed and
+      heart-sick. At last he met a sensible man, who made him see there was no
+      short cut in that profession. He must be content to play the up-hill game;
+      must settle in some good neighborhood; marry, if possible, since husbands
+      and fathers of families prefer married physicians; and so be poor at
+      thirty, comfortable at forty, and rich at fifty&mdash;perhaps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Christopher came down to his lodgings at Gravesend, and was very
+      unhappy; and after some days of misery, he wrote a letter to Rosa in a
+      moment of impatience, despondency, and passion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa Lusignan got worse and worse. The slight but frequent hemorrhage was
+      a drain upon her system, and weakened her visibly. She began to lose her
+      rich complexion, and sometimes looked almost sallow; and a slight circle
+      showed itself under her eyes. These symptoms were unfavorable;
+      nevertheless, Dr. Snell and Mr. Wyman accepted them cheerfully, as fresh
+      indications that nothing was affected but the liver; they multiplied and
+      varied their prescriptions; the malady ignored those prescriptions, and
+      went steadily on. Mr. Lusignan was terrified but helpless. Rosa resigned
+      and reticent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But it was not in human nature that a girl of this age could always and at
+      all hours be mistress of herself. One evening in particular she stood
+      before the glass in the drawing-room, and looked at herself a long time
+      with horror. &ldquo;Is that Rosa Lusignan?&rdquo; said she, aloud; &ldquo;it is her ghost.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A deep groan startled her. She turned; it was her father. She thought he
+      was fast asleep; and so indeed he had been; but he was just awaking, and
+      heard his daughter utter her real mind. It was a thunder-clap. &ldquo;Oh, my
+      child! what shall I do?&rdquo; he cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Rosa was taken by surprise in her turn. She spoke out. &ldquo;Send for a
+      great physician, papa. Don't let us deceive ourselves; it is our only
+      chance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will ask Mr. Wyman to get a physician down from London.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; that is no use; they will put their heads together, and he will
+      say whatever Mr. Wyman tells him. La! papa, a clever man like you, not to
+      see what a cheat that consultation was. Why, from what you told me, one
+      can see it was managed so that Dr. Snell could not possibly have an
+      opinion of his own. No; no more echoes of Mr. Chatterbox. If you really
+      want to cure me, send for Christopher Staines.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Staines! he is very young.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he is very clever, and he is not an echo. He won't care how many
+      doctors he contradicts when I am in danger. Papa, it is your child's one
+      chance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll try it,&rdquo; said the old man, eagerly. &ldquo;How confident you look! your
+      color has come back. It is an inspiration. Where is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think by this time he must be at his lodgings in Gravesend. Send to him
+      to-morrow morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not I! I'll go to him to-night. It is only a mile, and a fine clear
+      night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My own, good, kind papa! Ah! well, come what may, I have lived long
+      enough to be loved. Yes, dear papa, save me. I am very young to die; and
+      he loves me so dearly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man bustled away to put on something warmer for his night walk,
+      and Rosa leaned back, and the tears welled out of her eyes, now he was
+      gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before she had recovered her composure, a letter was brought her, and this
+      was the letter from Christopher Staines, alluded to already.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She took it from the servant with averted head, not wishing it to be seen
+      she had been crying, and she started at the handwriting; it seemed such a
+      coincidence that it should come just as she was sending for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      MY OWN BELOVED ROSA,&mdash;I now write to tell you, with a heavy heart,
+      that all is vain. I cannot make, nor purchase, a connection, except as
+      others do, by time and patience. Being a bachelor is quite against a young
+      physician. If I had a wife, and such a wife as you, I should be sure to
+      get on; you would increase my connection very soon. What, then, lies
+      before us? I see but two things&mdash;to wait till we are old, and our
+      pockets are filled, but our hearts chilled or soured; or else to marry at
+      once, and climb the hill together. If you love me as I love you, you will
+      be saving till the battle is over; and I feel I could find energy and
+      fortitude for both. Your father, who thinks so much of wealth, can surely
+      settle something on YOU; and I am not too poor to furnish a house and
+      start fair. I am not quite obscure&mdash;my lectures have given me a name&mdash;and
+      to you, my own love, I hope I may say that I know more than many of my
+      elders, thanks to good schools, good method, a genuine love of my noble
+      profession, and a tendency to study from my childhood. Will you not risk
+      something on my ability? If not, God help me, for I shall lose you; and
+      what is life, or fame, or wealth, or any mortal thing to me, without you?
+      I cannot accept your father's decision; YOU must decide my fate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      You see I have kept away from you until I can do so no more. All this time
+      the world to me has seemed to want the sun, and my heart pines and sickens
+      for one sight of you.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Darling Rosa, pray let me look at your face once more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When this reaches you I shall be at your gate. Let me see you, though but
+      for a moment, and let me hear my fate from no lips but yours.&mdash;My own
+      love, your heart-broken lover,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      CHRISTOPHER STAINES.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This letter stunned her at first. Her mind of late had been turned away
+      from love to such stern realities. Now she began to be sorry she had not
+      told him. &ldquo;Poor thing!&rdquo; she said to herself, &ldquo;he little knows that now all
+      is changed. Papa, I sometimes think, would deny me nothing now; it is I
+      who would not marry him&mdash;to be buried by him in a month or two. Poor
+      Christopher!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The next moment she started up in dismay. Why, her father would miss him.
+      No; perhaps catch him waiting for her. What would he think? What would
+      Christopher think?&mdash;that she had shown her papa his letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She rang the bell hard. The footman came.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Send Harriet to me this instant. Oh, and ask papa to come to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she sat down and dashed off a line to Christopher. This was for
+      Harriet to take out to him. Anything better than for Christopher to be
+      caught doing what was wrong.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The footman came back first. &ldquo;If you please, miss, master has gone out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Run after him&mdash;the road to Gravesend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, miss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. It is no use. Never mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, miss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Harriet came in. &ldquo;Did you want me, miss?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. No&mdash;never mind now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was afraid to do anything for fear of making matters worse. She went
+      to the window, and stood looking anxiously out, with her hands working.
+      Presently she uttered a little scream and shrank away to the sofa. She
+      sank down on it, half sitting, half lying, hid her face in her hands, and
+      waited.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines, with a lover's impatience, had been more than an hour at the
+      gate, or walking up and down close by it, his heart now burning with hope,
+      now freezing with fear, that she would decline a meeting on these terms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last the postman came, and then he saw he was too soon; but now in a
+      few minutes Rosa would have his letter, and then he should soon know
+      whether she would come or not. He looked up at the drawing-room windows.
+      They were full of light. She was there in all probability. Yet she did not
+      come to them. But why should she, if she was coming out?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He walked up and down the road. She did not come. His heart began to
+      sicken with doubt. His head drooped; and perhaps it was owing to this that
+      he almost ran against a gentleman who was coming the other way. The moon
+      shone bright on both faces.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Staines!&rdquo; said Mr. Lusignan surprised. Christopher uttered an
+      ejaculation more eloquent than words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They stared at each other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were coming to call on us?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;N&mdash;no,&rdquo; stammered Christopher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lusignan thought that odd; however, he said politely, &ldquo;No matter, it is
+      fortunate. Would you mind coming in?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; faltered Christopher, and stared at him ruefully, puzzled more and
+      more, but beginning to think, after all, it might be a casual meeting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They entered the gate, and in one moment he saw Rosa at the window, and
+      she saw him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he altered his opinion again. Rosa had sent her father out to him.
+      But how was this? The old man did not seem angry. Christopher's heart gave
+      a leap inside him, and he began to glow with the wildest hopes. For, what
+      could this mean but relenting?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Lusignan took him first into the study, and lighted two candles
+      himself. He did not want the servants prying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lights showed Christopher a change in Mr. Lusignan. He looked ten
+      years older.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not well, sir,&rdquo; said Christopher gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My health is well enough, but I am a broken-hearted man. Dr. Staines,
+      forget all that passed here at your last visit. All that is over. Thank
+      you for loving my poor girl as you do; give me your hand; God bless you.
+      Sir, I am sorry to say it is as a physician I invite you now. She is ill,
+      sir, very, very ill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ill! and not tell me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She kept it from you, my poor friend, not to distress you; and she tried
+      to keep it from me, but how could she? For two months she has had some
+      terrible complaint&mdash;it is destroying her. She is the ghost of
+      herself. Oh, my poor child! my child!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man sobbed aloud. The young man stood trembling, and ashy pale.
+      Still, the habits of his profession, and the experience of dangers
+      overcome, together with a certain sense of power, kept him up; but, above
+      all, love and duty said, &ldquo;Be firm.&rdquo; He asked for an outline of the
+      symptoms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They alarmed him greatly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us lose no more time,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I will see her at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you object to my being present?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall I tell you what Dr. Snell says it is, and Mr. Wyman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By all means&mdash;after I have seen her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This comforted Mr. Lusignan. He was to get an independent judgment, at all
+      events.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When they reached the top of the stairs, Dr. Staines paused and leaned
+      against the baluster. &ldquo;Give me a moment,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;The patient must not
+      know how my heart is beating, and she must see nothing in my face but what
+      I choose her to see. Give me your hand once more, sir; let us both control
+      ourselves. Now announce me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Lusignan opened the door, and said, with forced cheerfulness, &ldquo;Dr.
+      Staines, my dear, come to give you the benefit of his skill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She lay on the sofa, just as we left her. Only her bosom began to heave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Christopher Staines drew himself up, and the majesty of knowledge and
+      love together seemed to dilate his noble frame. He fixed his eye on that
+      reclining, panting figure, and stepped lightly but firmly across the room
+      to know the worst, like a lion walking up to levelled lances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The young physician walked steadily up to his patient without taking his
+      eye off her, and drew a chair to her side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she took down one hand&mdash;the left&mdash;and gave it him, averting
+      her face tenderly, and still covering it with her right; &ldquo;For,&rdquo; said she
+      to herself, &ldquo;I am such a fright now.&rdquo; This opportune reflection, and her
+      heaving bosom, proved that she at least felt herself something more than
+      his patient. Her pretty consciousness made his task more difficult;
+      nevertheless, he only allowed himself to press her hand tenderly with both
+      his palms one moment, and then he entered on his functions bravely. &ldquo;I am
+      here as your physician.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said she softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He gently detained the hand, and put his finger lightly to her pulse; it
+      was palpitating, and a fallacious test. Oh, how that beating pulse, by
+      love's electric current, set his own heart throbbing in a moment!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He put her hand gently, reluctantly down, and said, &ldquo;Oblige me by turning
+      this way.&rdquo; She turned, and he winced internally at the change in her; but
+      his face betrayed nothing. He looked at her full; and, after a pause, put
+      her some questions: one was as to the color of the hemorrhage. She said it
+      was bright red.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a tinge of purple?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said she hopefully, mistaking him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He suppressed a sigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he listened at her shoulder-blade and at her chest, and made her draw
+      her breath while he was listening. The acts were simple, and usual in
+      medicine, but there was a deep, patient, silent intensity about his way of
+      doing them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Lusignan crept nearer, and stood with both hands on a table, and his
+      old head bowed, awaiting yet dreading the verdict.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Up to this time, Dr. Staines, instead of tapping and squeezing, and
+      pulling the patient about, had never touched her with his hand, and only
+      grazed her with his ear; but now he said &ldquo;Allow me,&rdquo; and put both hands to
+      her waist, more lightly and reverently than I can describe; &ldquo;Now draw a
+      deep breath, if you please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you could draw a deeper still,&rdquo; said he, insinuatingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, then!&rdquo; said she, a little pettishly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines's eye kindled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hum!&rdquo; said he. Then, after a considerable pause, &ldquo;Are you better or worse
+      after each hemorrhage?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La!&rdquo; said Rosa; &ldquo;they never asked me that. Why, better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No faintness?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a bit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rather a sense of relief, perhaps?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I feel lighter and better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The examination was concluded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines looked at Rosa, and then at her father. The agony in that aged
+      face, and the love that agony implied, won him, and it was to the parent
+      he turned to give his verdict.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The hemorrhage is from the lungs&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lusignan interrupted him: &ldquo;From the lungs!&rdquo; cried he, in dismay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; a slight congestion of the lungs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But not incurable! Oh, not incurable, doctor!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heaven forbid! It is curable&mdash;easily&mdash;by removing the cause.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what is the cause?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The cause?&rdquo;&mdash;he hesitated, and looked rather uneasy.&mdash;&ldquo;Well,
+      the cause, sir, is&mdash;tight stays.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The tranquillity of the meeting was instantly disturbed. &ldquo;Tight stays!
+      Me!&rdquo; cried Rosa. &ldquo;Why, I am the loosest girl in England. Look, papa!&rdquo; And,
+      without any apparent effort, she drew herself in, and poked her little
+      fist between her sash and her gown. &ldquo;There!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines smiled sadly and a little sarcastically: he was evidently shy
+      of encountering the lady in this argument; but he was more at his ease
+      with her father; so he turned towards him and lectured him freely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is wonderful, sir; and the first four or five female patients that
+      favored me with it, made me disbelieve my other senses; but Miss Lusignan
+      is now about the thirtieth who has shown me that marvellous feat, with a
+      calm countenance that belies the herculean effort. Nature has her
+      every-day miracles: a boa-constrictor, diameter seventeen inches, can
+      swallow a buffalo; a woman, with her stays bisecting her almost, and
+      lacerating her skin, can yet for one moment make herself seem slack, to
+      deceive a juvenile physician. The snake is the miracle of expansion; the
+      woman is the prodigy of contraction.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Highly grateful for the comparison!&rdquo; cried Rosa. &ldquo;Women and snakes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines blushed and looked uncomfortable. &ldquo;I did not mean to be
+      offensive; it certainly was a very clumsy comparison.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does that matter?&rdquo; said Mr. Lusignan, impatiently. &ldquo;Be quiet, Rosa,
+      and let Dr. Staines and me talk sense.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, then I am nobody in the business!&rdquo; said this wise young lady.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are everybody,&rdquo; said Staines, soothingly. &ldquo;But,&rdquo; suggested he,
+      obsequiously, &ldquo;if you don't mind, I would rather explain my views to your
+      father&mdash;on this one subject.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And a pretty subject it is!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines then invited Mr. Lusignan to his lodgings, and promised to
+      explain the matter anatomically. &ldquo;Meantime,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;would you be good
+      enough to put your hands to my waist, as I did to the patient's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Lusignan complied; and the patient began to titter directly, to put
+      them out of countenance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please observe what takes place when I draw a full breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now apply the same test to the patient. Breathe your best, please, Miss
+      Lusignan.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The patient put on a face full of saucy mutiny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To oblige us both.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, how tiresome!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am aware it is rather laborious,&rdquo; said Staines, a little dryly; &ldquo;but to
+      oblige your father!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, anything to oblige papa,&rdquo; said she, spitefully. &ldquo;There! And I do hope
+      it will be the last&mdash;la! no; I don't hope that, neither.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines politely ignored her little attempts to interrupt the
+      argument. &ldquo;You found, sir, that the muscles of my waist, and my
+      intercostal ribs themselves, rose and fell with each inhalation and
+      exhalation of air by the lungs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did; but my daughter's waist was like dead wood, and so were her lower
+      ribs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this volunteer statement, Rosa colored to her temples. &ldquo;Thanks, papa!
+      Pack me off to London, and sell me for a big doll!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In other words,&rdquo; said the lecturer, mild and pertinacious, &ldquo;with us the
+      lungs have room to blow, and the whole bony frame expands elastic with
+      them, like the woodwork of a blacksmith's bellows; but with this patient,
+      and many of her sex, that noble and divinely framed bellows is crippled
+      and confined by a powerful machine of human construction; so it works
+      lamely and feebly: consequently too little air, and of course too little
+      oxygen, passes through that spongy organ whose very life is air. Now mark
+      the special result in this case: being otherwise healthy and vigorous, our
+      patient's system sends into the lungs more blood than that one crippled
+      organ can deal with; a small quantity becomes extravasated at odd times;
+      it accumulates, and would become dangerous; then Nature, strengthened by
+      sleep, and by some hours' relief from the diabolical engine, makes an
+      effort and flings it off: that is why the hemorrhage comes in the morning,
+      and why she is the better for it, feeling neither faint nor sick, but
+      relieved of a weight. This, sir, is the rationale of the complaint; and it
+      is to you I must look for the cure. To judge from my other female
+      patients, and from the few words Miss Lusignan has let fall, I fear we
+      must not count on any very hearty co-operation from her: but you are her
+      father, and have great authority; I conjure you to use it to the full, as
+      you once used it&mdash;to my sorrow&mdash;in this very room. I am
+      forgetting my character. I was asked here only as her physician.
+      Good-evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave a little gulp, and hurried away, with an abruptness that touched
+      the father and offended the sapient daughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, Mr. Lusignan followed him, and stopped him before he left the
+      house, and thanked him warmly; and to his surprise, begged him to call
+      again in a day or two.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Rosa, what do you say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say that I am very unfortunate in my doctors. Mr. Wyman is a chatterbox
+      and knows nothing. Dr. Snell is Mr. Wyman's echo. Christopher is a genius,
+      and they are always full of crotchets. A pretty doctor! Gone away, and not
+      prescribed for me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Lusignan admitted it was odd. &ldquo;But, after all,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;if medicine
+      does you no good?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! but any medicine HE had prescribed would have done me good, and that
+      makes it all the unkinder.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you think so highly of his skill, why not take his advice? It can do
+      no harm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No harm? Why, if I was to leave them off I should catch a dreadful cold;
+      and that would be sure to settle on my chest, and carry me off, in my
+      present delicate state. Besides, it is so unfeminine not to wear them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This staggered Mr. Lusignan, and he was afraid to press the point; but
+      what Staines had said fermented in his mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Snell and Mr. Wyman continued their visits and their prescriptions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The patient got a little worse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Lusignan hoped Christopher would call again, but he did not.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Dr. Staines had satisfied himself that the disorder was easily
+      curable, then wounded pride found an entrance even into his loving heart.
+      That two strangers should have been consulted before him! He was only sent
+      for because they could not cure her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he seemed in no hurry to repeat his visit, Mr. Lusignan called on him,
+      and said, politely, he had hoped to receive another call ere this.
+      &ldquo;Personally,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I was much struck with your observations; but my
+      daughter is afraid she will catch cold if she leaves off her corset, and
+      that, you know, might be very serious.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines groaned, and, when he had groaned, he lectured. &ldquo;Female
+      patients are wonderfully monotonous in this matter; they have a programme
+      of evasions; and whether the patient is a lady or a housemaid, she seldom
+      varies from that programme. You find her breathing life's air with half a
+      bellows, and you tell her so. 'Oh, no,' says she; and does the gigantic
+      feat of contraction we witnessed that evening at your house. But, on
+      inquiry, you learn there is a raw red line ploughed in her flesh by the
+      cruel stays. 'What is that?' you ask, and flatter yourself you have pinned
+      her. Not a bit. 'That was the last pair. I changed them, because they hurt
+      me.' Driven out of that by proofs of recent laceration, they say, 'If I
+      leave them off I should catch my death of cold,' which is equivalent to
+      saying there is no flannel in the shops, no common sense nor needles at
+      home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He then laid before him some large French plates, showing the organs of
+      the human trunk, and bade him observe in how small a space, and with what
+      skill, the Creator has packed so many large yet delicate organs, so that
+      they should be free and secure from friction, though so close to each
+      other. He showed him the liver, an organ weighing four pounds, and of
+      large circumference; the lungs, a very large organ, suspended in the chest
+      and impatient of pressure; the heart, the stomach, the spleen, all of them
+      too closely and artfully packed to bear any further compression.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Having thus taken him by the eye, he took him by the mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it a small thing for the creature to say to her Creator, 'I can pack
+      all this egg-china better than you can,' and thereupon to jam all those
+      vital organs close, by a powerful, a very powerful and ingenious machine?
+      Is it a small thing for that sex, which, for good reasons, the Omniscient
+      has made larger in the waist than the male, to say to her Creator, 'You
+      don't know your business; women ought to be smaller in the waist than men,
+      and shall be throughout the civilized world'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In short, he delivered so many true and pointed things on this trite
+      subject, that the old gentleman was convinced, and begged him to come over
+      that very evening and convince Rosa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines shook his head dolefully, and all his fire died out of him at
+      having to face the fair. &ldquo;Reason will be wasted. Authority is the only
+      weapon. My profession and my reading have both taught me that the whole
+      character of her sex undergoes a change the moment a man interferes with
+      their dress. From Chaucer's day to our own, neither public satire nor
+      private remonstrance has ever shaken any of their monstrous fashions.
+      Easy, obliging, pliable, and weaker of will than men in other things, do
+      but touch their dress, however objectionable, and rock is not harder, iron
+      is not more stubborn, than these soft and yielding creatures. It is no
+      earthly use my coming&mdash;I'll come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He came that very evening, and saw directly she was worse. &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo;
+       said he, sadly, &ldquo;you have not taken my advice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa replied with a toss and an evasion, &ldquo;I was not worth a prescription!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A physician can prescribe without sending his patient to the druggist;
+      and when he does, then it is his words are gold.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa shook her head with an air of lofty incredulity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked ruefully at Mr. Lusignan and was silent. Rosa smiled
+      sarcastically; she thought he was at his wit's end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not quite: he was cudgelling his brains in search of some horribly
+      unscientific argument, that might prevail; for he felt science would fall
+      dead upon so fair an antagonist. At last his eye kindled; he had hit on an
+      argument unscientific enough for anybody, he thought. Said he,
+      ingratiatingly, &ldquo;You believe the Old Testament?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I do, every syllable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the lessons it teaches?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then let me tell you a story from that book. A Syrian general had a
+      terrible disease. He consulted Elisha by deputy. Elisha said, 'Bathe seven
+      times in a certain river, Jordan, and you will get well.' The general did
+      not like this at all; he wanted a prescription; wanted to go to the
+      druggist; didn't believe in hydropathy to begin, and, in any case, turned
+      up his nose at Jordan. What! bathe in an Israelitish brook, when his own
+      country boasted noble rivers, with a reputation for sanctity into the
+      bargain? In short, he preferred his leprosy to such irregular medicine.
+      But it happened, by some immense fortuity, that one of his servants,
+      though an Oriental, was a friend, instead of a flatterer; and this
+      sensible fellow said, 'If the prophet told you to do some great and
+      difficult thing, to get rid of this fearful malady, would not you do it,
+      however distasteful? and can you hesitate when he merely says, Wash in the
+      Jordan, and be healed?' The general listened to good sense, and cured
+      himself. Your case is parallel. You would take quantities of foul
+      medicine; you would submit to some painful operation, if life and health
+      depended on it; then why not do a small thing for a great result? You have
+      only to take off an unnatural machine which cripples your growing frame,
+      and was unknown to every one of the women whose forms in Parian marble the
+      world admires. Off with that monstrosity, and your cure is as certain as
+      the Syrian general's; though science, and not inspiration, dictates the
+      easy remedy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa had listened impatiently, and now replied with some warmth, &ldquo;This is
+      shockingly profane. The idea of comparing yourself to Elisha, and me to a
+      horrid leper! Much obliged! Not that I know what a leper is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, come! that is not fair,&rdquo; said Mr. Lusignan. &ldquo;He only compared the
+      situation, not the people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, papa, the Bible is not to be dragged into the common affairs of
+      life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then what on earth is the use of it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, papa! Well, it is not Sunday, but I have had a sermon. This is the
+      clergyman, and you are the commentator&mdash;he! he! And so now let us go
+      back from divinity to medicine. I repeat&rdquo; (this was the first time she had
+      said it) &ldquo;that my other doctors give me real prescriptions, written in
+      hieroglyphics. You can't look at them without feeling there MUST be
+      something in them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      An angry spot rose on Christopher's cheek, but he only said, &ldquo;And are your
+      other doctors satisfied with the progress your disorder is making under
+      their superintendence?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perfectly! Papa, tell him what they say, and I'll find him their
+      prescriptions.&rdquo; She went to a drawer, and rummaged, affecting not to
+      listen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lusignan complied. &ldquo;First of all, sir, I must tell you they are confident
+      it is not the lungs, but the liver.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The what!&rdquo; shouted Christopher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; screamed Rosa. &ldquo;Oh, don't!&mdash;bawling!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And don't you screech,&rdquo; said her father, with a look of misery and
+      apprehension impartially distributed on the resounding pair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must have misunderstood them,&rdquo; murmured Staines, in a voice that was
+      now barely audible a yard off. &ldquo;The hemorrhage of a bright red color, and
+      expelled without effort or nausea?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From the liver&mdash;they have assured me again and again,&rdquo; said
+      Lusignan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher's face still wore a look of blank amazement, till Rosa herself
+      confirmed it positively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he cast a look of agony upon her, and started up in a passion,
+      forgetting once more that his host abhorred the sonorous. &ldquo;Oh, shame!
+      shame!&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;that the noble profession of medicine should be
+      disgraced by ignorance such as this.&rdquo; Then he said, sternly, &ldquo;Sir, do not
+      mistake my motives; but I decline to have anything further to do with this
+      case, until those two gentlemen have been relieved of it; and, as this is
+      very harsh, and on my part unprecedented, I will give you one reason out
+      of many I COULD give you. Sir, there is no road from the liver to the
+      throat by which blood can travel in this way, defying the laws of gravity;
+      and they knew, from the patient, that no strong expellent force has ever
+      been in operation. Their diagnosis, therefore, implies agnosis, or
+      ignorance too great to be forgiven. I will not share my patient with two
+      gentlemen who know so little of medicine, and know nothing of anatomy,
+      which is the A B C of medicine. Can I see their prescriptions?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      These were handed to him. &ldquo;Good heavens!&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;have you taken all
+      these?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Most of them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, then you have drunk about two gallons of unwholesome liquids, and
+      eaten a pound or two of unwholesome solids. These medicines have
+      co-operated with the malady. The disorder lies, not in the hemorrhage, but
+      in the precedent extravasation that is a drain on the system; and how is
+      the loss to be supplied? Why, by taking a little more nourishment than
+      before; there is no other way; and probably Nature, left to herself, might
+      have increased your appetite to meet the occasion. But those two worthies
+      have struck that weapon out of Nature's hand; they have peppered away at
+      the poor ill-used stomach with drugs and draughts, not very deleterious I
+      grant you, but all more or less indigestible, and all tending, not to whet
+      the appetite, but to clog the stomach, or turn the stomach, or pester the
+      stomach, and so impair the appetite, and so co-operate, indirectly, with
+      the malady.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is good sense,&rdquo; said Lusignan. &ldquo;I declare, I&mdash;I wish I knew how
+      to get rid of them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I'll do that, papa.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; it is not worth a rumpus.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll do it too politely for that. Christopher, you are very clever&mdash;TERRIBLY
+      clever. Whenever I threw their medicines away, I was always a little
+      better that day. I will sacrifice them to you. It IS a sacrifice. They are
+      both so kind and chatty, and don't grudge me hieroglyphics; now you do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She sat down and wrote two sweet letters to Dr. Snell and Mr. Wyman,
+      thanking them for the great attention they had paid her; but finding
+      herself getting steadily worse, in spite of all they had done for her, she
+      proposed to discontinue her medicines for a time, and try change of air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And suppose they call to see whether you are changing the air?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In that case, papa&mdash;'not at home.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The notes were addressed and despatched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Dr. Staines brightened up, and said to Lusignan, &ldquo;I am now happy to
+      tell you that I have overrated the malady. The sad change I see in Miss
+      Lusignan is partly due to the great bulk of unwholesome esculents she has
+      been eating and drinking under the head of medicines. These discontinued,
+      she might linger on for years, existing, though not living&mdash;the
+      tight-laced cannot be said to live. But if she would be healthy and happy,
+      let her throw that diabolical machine into the fire. It is no use asking
+      her to loosen it; she can't. Once there, the temptation is too strong. Off
+      with it, and, take my word, you will be one of the healthiest and most
+      vigorous young ladies in Europe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa looked rueful, and almost sullen. She said she had parted with her
+      doctors for him, but she really could not go about without stays. &ldquo;They
+      are as loose as they can be. See!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That part of the programme is disposed of,&rdquo; said Christopher. &ldquo;Please go
+      on to No. 2. How about the raw red line where the loose machine has sawed
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What red line? No such thing! Somebody or other has been peeping in at my
+      window. I'll have the ivy cut down to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Simpleton!&rdquo; said Mr. Lusignan, angrily. &ldquo;You have let the cat out of the
+      bag. There is such a mark, then, and this extraordinary young man has
+      discerned it with the eye of science.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He never discerned it at all,&rdquo; said Rosa, red as fire; &ldquo;and, what is
+      more, he never will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want to. I should be very sorry to. I hope it will be gone in a
+      week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish YOU were gone now&mdash;exposing me in this cruel way,&rdquo; said Rosa,
+      angry with herself for having said an idiotic thing, and furious with him
+      for having made her say it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Rosa!&rdquo; said Christopher, in a voice of tenderest reproach.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Mr. Lusignan interfered promptly. &ldquo;Rosa, no noise. I will not have you
+      snapping at your best friend and mine. If you are excited, you had better
+      retire to your own room and compose yourself. I hate a clamor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa made a wry face at this rebuke, and then began to cry quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Every tear was like a drop of blood from Christopher's heart. &ldquo;Pray don't
+      scold her, sir,&rdquo; said he, ready to snivel himself. &ldquo;She meant nothing
+      unkind: it is only her pretty sprightly way; and she did not really
+      imagine a love so reverent as mine&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't YOU interfere between my father and me,&rdquo; said this reasonable young
+      lady, now in an ungovernable state of feminine irritability.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Rosa,&rdquo; said Christopher, humbly. &ldquo;Mr. Lusignan,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I hope you
+      will tell her that, from the very first, I was unwilling to enter on this
+      subject with HER. Neither she nor I can forget my double character. I have
+      not said half as much to her as I ought, being her physician; and yet you
+      see I have said more than she can bear from me, who, she knows, love her
+      and revere her. Then, once for all, do pray let me put this delicate
+      matter into your hands: it is a case for parental authority.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unfatherly tyranny, that means,&rdquo; said Rosa. &ldquo;What business have gentlemen
+      interfering in such things? It is unheard of. I will not submit to it,
+      even from papa.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you need not scream at me,&rdquo; said Mr. Lusignan; and he shrugged his
+      shoulders to Staines. &ldquo;She is impracticable, you see. If I do my duty,
+      there will be a disturbance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now this roused the bile of Dr. Staines. &ldquo;What, sir!&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;you could
+      separate her and me by your authority, here in this very room; and yet,
+      when her life is at stake, you abdicate! You could part her from a man who
+      loved her with every drop of his heart,&mdash;and she said she loved him,
+      or, at all events, preferred him to others,&mdash;and you cannot part her
+      from a miserable corset, although you see in her poor wasted face that it
+      is carrying her to the churchyard. In that case, sir, there is but one
+      thing for you to do,&mdash;withdraw your opposition and let me marry her.
+      As her lover I am powerless; but invest me with a husband's authority, and
+      you will soon see the roses return to her cheek, and her elastic figure
+      expanding, and her eye beaming with health and the happiness that comes of
+      perfect health.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Lusignan made an answer neither of his hearers expected. He said, &ldquo;I
+      have a great mind to take you at your word. I am too old and fond of quiet
+      to drive a Simpleton in single harness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This contemptuous speech, and, above all, the word Simpleton, which had
+      been applied to her pretty freely by young ladies at school, and always
+      galled her terribly, inflicted so intolerable a wound on Rosa's vanity,
+      that she was ready to burst: on that, of course, her stays contributed
+      their mite of physical uneasiness. Thus irritated mind and body, she
+      burned to strike in return; and as she could not slap her father in the
+      presence of another, she gave it Christopher back-handed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can turn me out of doors,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;if you are tired of your
+      daughter, but I am not such a SIMPLETON as to marry a tyrant. No; he has
+      shown the cloven foot in time. A husband's AUTHORITY, indeed!&rdquo; Then she
+      turned her hand, and gave it him direct. &ldquo;You told me a different story
+      when you were paying your court to me; then you were to be my servant,&mdash;all
+      hypocritical sweetness. You had better go and marry a Circassian slave.
+      They don't wear stays, and they do wear trousers; so she will be
+      unfeminine enough, even for you. No English lady would let her husband
+      dictate to her about such a thing. I can have as many husbands as I like,
+      without falling into the clutches of a tyrant. You are a rude, indelicate&mdash;And
+      so please understand it is all over between you and me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Both her auditors stood aghast, for she uttered this conclusion with a
+      dignity of which the opening gave no promise, and the occasion, weighed in
+      masculine balances, was not worthy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do not mean that. You cannot mean it,&rdquo; said Dr. Staines, aghast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do mean it,&rdquo; said she, firmly; &ldquo;and, if you are a gentleman, you will
+      not compel me to say it twice&mdash;three times, I mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this dagger-stroke Christopher turned very pale, but he maintained his
+      dignity. &ldquo;I am a gentleman,&rdquo; said he, quietly, &ldquo;and a very unfortunate
+      one. Good-by, sir; thank you kindly. Good-by, Rosa; God bless you! Oh,
+      pray take a thought! Remember, your life and death are in your own hand
+      now. I am powerless.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And he left the house in sorrow, and just, but not pettish, indignation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he was gone, father and daughter looked at each other, and there was
+      the silence that succeeds a storm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa, feeling the most uneasy, was the first to express her satisfaction.
+      &ldquo;There, HE is gone, and I am glad of it. Now you and I shall never quarrel
+      again. I was quite right. Such impertinence! Such indelicacy! A fine
+      prospect for me if I had married such a man! However, he is gone, and so
+      there's an end of it. The idea! telling a young lady, before her father,
+      she is tight-laced! If you had not been there I could have forgiven him.
+      But I am not; it is a story. Now,&rdquo; suddenly exalting her voice, &ldquo;I know
+      you believe him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say nothing,&rdquo; whispered papa, hoping to still her by example. This ruse
+      did not succeed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you look volumes,&rdquo; cried she: &ldquo;and I can't bear it. I won't bear it.
+      If you don't believe ME, ask my MAID.&rdquo; And with this felicitous speech,
+      she rang the bell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll break the wire if you don't mind,&rdquo; suggested her father,
+      piteously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the better! Why should not wires be broken as well as my heart? Oh,
+      here she is! Now, Harriet, come here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, miss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And tell the truth. AM I tight-laced?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Harriet looked in her face a moment to see what was required of her, and
+      then said, &ldquo;That you are not, miss. I never dressed a young lady as wore
+      'em easier than you do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, papa! That will do, Harriet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Harriet retired as far as the keyhole; she saw something was up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Rosa, &ldquo;you see I was right; and, after all, it was a match you
+      did not approve. Well, it is all over, and now you may write to your
+      favorite, Colonel Bright. If he comes here, I'll box his old ears. I hate
+      him. I hate them all. Forgive your wayward girl. I'll stay with you all my
+      days. I dare say that will not be long, now I have quarrelled with my
+      guardian angel; and all for what? Papa! papa! how CAN you sit there and
+      not speak me one word of comfort? 'SIMPLETON?' Ah! that I am to throw away
+      a love a queen is scarcely worthy of; and all for what? Really, if it
+      wasn't for the ingratitude and wickedness of the thing, it is too
+      laughable. Ha! ha!&mdash;oh! oh! oh!&mdash;ha! ha! ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And off she went into hysterics, and began to gulp and choke frightfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her father cried for help in dismay. In ran Harriet, saw, and screamed,
+      but did not lose her head; this veracious person whipped a pair of
+      scissors off the table, and cut the young lady's stay-laces directly. Then
+      there was a burst of imprisoned beauty; a deep, deep sigh of relief came
+      from a bosom that would have done honor to Diana; and the scene soon
+      concluded with fits of harmless weeping, renewed at intervals.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When it had settled down to this, her father, to soothe her, said he would
+      write to Dr. Staines, and bring about a reconciliation, if she liked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;you shall kill me sooner. I should die of shame.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She added, &ldquo;Oh, pray, from this hour, never mention his name to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And then she had another cry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Lusignan was a sensible man: he dropped the subject for the present;
+      but he made up his mind to one thing&mdash;that he would never part with
+      Dr. Staines as a physician.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day Rosa kept her own room until dinner-time, and was as unhappy as
+      she deserved to be. She spent her time in sewing on stiff flannel linings
+      and crying. She half hoped Christopher would write to her, so that she
+      might write back that she forgave him. But not a line.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At half-past six her volatile mind took a turn, real or affected. She
+      would cry no more for an ungrateful fellow,&mdash;ungrateful for not
+      seeing through the stone walls how she had been employed all the morning;
+      and making it up. So she bathed her red eyes, made a great alteration in
+      her dress, and came dancing into the room humming an Italian ditty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they were sitting together in the dining-room after dinner, two letters
+      came by the same post to Mr. Lusignan from Mr. Wyman and Dr. Snell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Wyman's letter:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      DEAR SIR,&mdash;I am sorry to hear from Miss Lusignan that she intends to
+      discontinue medical advice. The disorder was progressing favorably, and
+      nothing to be feared, under proper treatment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yours, etc.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Snell's letter:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      DEAR SIR,&mdash;Miss Lusignan has written to me somewhat impatiently and
+      seems disposed to dispense with my visits. I do not, however, think it
+      right to withdraw without telling you candidly that this is an unwise
+      step. Your daughter's health is in a very precarious condition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yours, etc.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa burst out laughing. &ldquo;I have nothing to fear, and I'm on the brink of
+      the grave. That comes of writing without a consultation. If they had
+      written at one table, I should have been neither well nor ill. Poor
+      Christopher!&rdquo; and her sweet face began to work piteously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There! there! drink a glass of wine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did, and a tear with it, that ran into the glass like lightning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Warned by this that grief sat very near the bright, hilarious surface, Mr.
+      Lusignan avoided all emotional subjects for the present. Next day,
+      however, he told her she might dismiss her lover, but no power should make
+      him dismiss his pet physician, unless her health improved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will not give you that excuse for inflicting him on me again,&rdquo; said the
+      young hypocrite.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She kept her word. She got better and better, stronger, brighter, gayer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She took to walking every day, and increasing the distance, till she could
+      walk ten miles without fatigue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her favorite walk was to a certain cliff that commanded a noble view of
+      the sea. To get to it she must pass through the town of Gravesend; and we
+      may be sure she did not pass so often through that city without some idea
+      of meeting the lover she had used so ill, and eliciting an APOLOGY from
+      him. Sly puss!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she had walked twenty times, or thereabouts, through the town, and
+      never seen him, she began to fear she had offended him past hope. Then she
+      used to cry at the end of every walk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But by and by bodily health, vanity, and temper combined to rouse the
+      defiant spirit. Said she, &ldquo;If he really loved me, he would not take my
+      word in such a hurry. And besides, why does he not watch me, and find out
+      what I am doing, and where I walk?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At last she really began to persuade herself that she was an ill-used and
+      slighted girl. She was very angry at times, and disconsolate at others; a
+      mixed state in which hasty and impulsive young ladies commit lifelong
+      follies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Lusignan observed the surface only: he saw his invalid daughter
+      getting better every day, till at last she became a picture of health and
+      bodily vigor. Relieved of his fears, he troubled his head but little about
+      Christopher Staines. Yet he esteemed him, and had got to like him; but
+      Rosa was a beauty, and could do better than marry a struggling physician,
+      however able. He launched out into a little gayety, resumed his quiet
+      dinner-parties; and, after some persuasion, took his now blooming daughter
+      to a ball given by the officers of Chatham.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was the belle of the ball beyond dispute, and danced with ethereal
+      grace and athletic endurance. She was madly fond of waltzing, and here she
+      encountered what she was pleased to call a divine dancer. It was a Mr.
+      Reginald Falcon, a gentleman who had retired to the seaside to recruit his
+      health and finances sore tried by London and Paris. Falcon had run through
+      his fortune, but had acquired, in the process, certain talents which, as
+      they cost the acquirer dear, so they sometimes repay him, especially if he
+      is not overburdened with principle, and adopts the notion that, the world
+      having plucked him, he has a right to pluck the world. He could play
+      billiards well, but never so well as when backing himself for a heavy
+      stake. He could shoot pigeons well, and his shooting improved under that
+      which makes some marksmen miss&mdash;a heavy bet against the gun. He
+      danced to perfection; and being a well-bred, experienced, brazen, adroit
+      fellow, who knew a little of everything that was going, he had always
+      plenty to say. Above all, he had made a particular study of the fair sex;
+      had met with many successes, many rebuffs; and, at last, by keen study of
+      their minds, and a habit he had acquired of watching their faces, and
+      shifting his helm accordingly, had learned the great art of pleasing them.
+      They admired his face; to me, the short space between his eyes and his
+      hair, his aquiline nose, and thin straight lips, suggested the bird of
+      prey a little too much: but to fair doves, born to be clutched, this
+      similitude perhaps was not very alarming, even if they observed it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa danced several times with him, and told him he danced like an angel.
+      He informed her that was because, for once, he was dancing with an angel.
+      She laughed and blushed. He flattered deliciously, and it cost him little;
+      for he fell in love with her that night, deeper than he had ever been in
+      his whole life of intrigue. He asked leave to call on her: she looked a
+      little shy at that, and did not respond. He instantly withdrew his
+      proposal, with an apology and a sigh that raised her pity. However, she
+      was not a forward girl, even when excited by dancing and charmed with her
+      partner; so she left him to find his own way out of that difficulty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was not long about it. At the end of the next waltz he asked her if he
+      might venture to solicit an introduction to her father.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, certainly,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;What a selfish girl I am! this is terribly
+      dull for him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The introduction being made, and Rosa being engaged for the next three
+      dances, Mr. Falcon sat by Mr. Lusignan and entertained him. For this
+      little piece of apparent self-denial he was paid in various coin: Lusignan
+      found out he was the son of an old acquaintance, and so the door of Kent
+      Villa opened to him; meantime, Rosa Lusignan never passed him, even in the
+      arms of a cavalry officer, without bestowing a glance of approval and
+      gratitude on him. &ldquo;What a good-hearted young man!&rdquo; thought she. &ldquo;How kind
+      of him to amuse papa; and now I can stay so much longer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon followed up the dance by a call, and was infinitely agreeable:
+      followed up the call by another, and admired Rosa with so little disguise
+      that Mr. Lusignan said to her, &ldquo;I think you have made a conquest. His
+      father had considerable estates in Essex. I presume he inherits them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, never mind his estates,&rdquo; said Rosa, &ldquo;he dances like an angel, and
+      gossips charmingly, and IS so nice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher Staines pined for this girl in silence: his fine frame got
+      thinner, his pale cheek paler, as she got rosier and rosier; and how? Why,
+      by following the very advice she had snubbed him for giving her. At last,
+      he heard she had been the belle of a ball, and that she had been seen
+      walking miles from home, and blooming as a Hebe. Then his deep anxiety
+      ceased, his pride stung him furiously; he began to think of his own value,
+      and to struggle with all his might against his deep love. Sometimes he
+      would even inveigh against her, and call her a fickle, ungrateful girl,
+      capable of no strong passion but vanity. Many a hard term he applied to
+      her in his sorrowful solitude; but not a word when he had a hearer. He
+      found it hard to rest: he kept dashing up to London and back. He plunged
+      furiously into study. He groaned and sighed, and fought the hard and
+      bitter fight that is too often the lot of the deep that love the shallow.
+      Strong, but single-hearted, no other lady could comfort him. He turned
+      from female company, and shunned all for the fault of one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The inward contest wore him. He began to look very thin and wan; and all
+      for a Simpleton!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Falcon prolonged his stay in the neighborhood, and drove a handsome
+      dogcart over twice a week to visit Mr. Lusignan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He used to call on that gentleman at four o'clock, for at that hour Mr.
+      Lusignan was always out, and his daughter always at home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was at home at that hour because she took her long walks in the
+      morning. While her new admirer was in bed, or dressing, or breakfasting,
+      she was springing along the road with all the elasticity of youth, and
+      health, and native vigor, braced by daily exercise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Twenty-one of these walks did she take, with no other result than health
+      and appetite; but the twenty-second was more fertile&mdash;extremely
+      fertile. Starting later than usual, she passed through Gravesend while
+      Reginald Falcon was smoking at his front window. He saw her, and instantly
+      doffed his dressing-gown and donned his coat to follow her. He was madly
+      in love with her, and being a man who had learned to shoot pigeons and
+      opportunities flying, he instantly resolved to join her in her walk, get
+      her clear of the town, by the sea-beach, where beauty melts, and propose
+      to her. Yes, marriage had not been hitherto his habit, but this girl was
+      peerless: he was pledged by honor and gratitude to Phoebe Dale; but hang
+      all that now. &ldquo;No man should marry one woman when he loves another; it is
+      dishonorable.&rdquo; He got into the street and followed her as fast as he could
+      without running.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was not so easy to catch her. Ladies are not built for running; but a
+      fine, tall, symmetrical girl who has practised walking fast can cover the
+      ground wonderfully in walking&mdash;if she chooses. It was a sight to see
+      how Rosa Lusignan squared her shoulders and stepped out from the waist
+      like a Canadian girl skating, while her elastic foot slapped the pavement
+      as she spanked along.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had nearly cleared the town before Falcon came up with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was hardly ten yards from her when an unexpected incident occurred. She
+      whisked round the corner of Bird Street, and ran plump against Christopher
+      Staines; in fact, she darted into his arms, and her face almost touched
+      the breast she had wounded so deeply.
+    </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>
+      Rosa cried &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; and put up her hands to her face in lovely confusion,
+      coloring like a peony.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; said Christopher, stiffly, but in a voice that
+      trembled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Rosa, &ldquo;it was I ran against you. I walk so fast now. Hope I did
+      not hurt you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hurt me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, frighten you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, please don't quarrel with me in the STREET,&rdquo; said Rosa, cunningly
+      implying that he was the quarrelsome one. &ldquo;I am going on the beach.
+      Good-by!&rdquo; This adieu she uttered softly, and in a hesitating tone that
+      belied it. She started off, however, but much more slowly than she was
+      going before; and, as she went, she turned her head with infinite grace,
+      and kept looking askant down at the pavement two yards behind her:
+      moreover she went close to the wall, and left room at her side for another
+      to walk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher hesitated a moment; but the mute invitation, so arch yet
+      timid, so pretty, tender, sly, and womanly, was too much for him, as it
+      has generally proved for males, and the philosopher's foot was soon in the
+      very place to which the Simpleton with the mere tail of her eye directed
+      it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They walked along, side by side, in silence, Staines agitated, gloomy,
+      confused, Rosa radiant and glowing, yet not knowing what to say for
+      herself, and wanting Christopher to begin. So they walked along without a
+      word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon followed them at some distance to see whether it was an admirer or
+      only an acquaintance. A lover he never dreamed of; she had shown such
+      evident pleasure in his company, and had received his visits alone so
+      constantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, when the pair had got to the beach, and were walking slower and
+      slower, he felt a pang of rage and jealousy, turned on his heel with an
+      audible curse, and found Phoebe Dale a few yards behind him with a white
+      face and a peculiar look. He knew what the look meant; he had brought it
+      to that faithful face before to-day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are better, Miss Lusignan.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Better, Dr. Staines? I am health itself thanks to&mdash;hem!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our estrangement has agreed with you?&rdquo; This very bitterly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know very well it is not that. Oh, please don't make me cry in the
+      streets.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This humble petition, or rather meek threat, led to another long silence.
+      It was continued till they had nearly reached the shore. But, meantime,
+      Rosa's furtive eyes scanned Christopher's face, and her conscience smote
+      her at the signs of suffering. She felt a desire to beg his pardon with
+      deep humility; but she suppressed that weakness. She hung her head with a
+      pretty, sheepish air, and asked him if he could not think of something
+      agreeable to say to one after deserting one so long.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid not,&rdquo; said Christopher, bluntly. &ldquo;I have an awkward habit of
+      speaking the truth; and some people can't bear that, not even when it is
+      spoken for their good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That depends on temper, and nerves, and things,&rdquo; said Rosa,
+      deprecatingly; then softly, &ldquo;I could bear anything from you now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; said Christopher, grimly. &ldquo;Well, then, I hear you had no sooner
+      got rid of your old lover, for loving you too well and telling you the
+      truth, than you took up another,&mdash;some flimsy man of fashion, who
+      will tell you any lie you like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a story, a wicked story,&rdquo; cried Rosa, thoroughly alarmed. &ldquo;Me, a
+      lover! He dances like an angel; I can't help that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are his visits at your house like angels'&mdash;few and far between?&rdquo; And
+      the true lover's brow lowered black upon her for the first time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa changed color, and her eyes fell a moment. &ldquo;Ask papa,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;His
+      father was an old friend of papa's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rosa, you are prevaricating. Young men do not call on old gentlemen when
+      there is an attractive young lady in the house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The argument was getting too close; so Rosa operated a diversion. &ldquo;So,&rdquo;
+       said she, with a sudden air of lofty disdain, swiftly and adroitly
+      assumed, &ldquo;you have had me watched?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not I; I only hear what people say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen to gossip and not have me watched! That shows how little you
+      really cared for me. Well, if you had, you would have made a little
+      discovery, that is all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Should I?&rdquo; said Christopher, puzzled. &ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall not tell you. Think what you please. Yes, sir, you would have
+      found out that I take long walks every day, all alone; and what is more,
+      that I walk through Gravesend, hoping&mdash;like a goose&mdash;that
+      somebody really loved me, and would meet me, and beg my pardon; and if he
+      had, I should have told him it was only my tongue, and my nerves, and
+      things; my heart was his, and my gratitude. And after all, what do words
+      signify, when I am a good, obedient girl at bottom? So that is what you
+      have lost by not condescending to look after me. Fine love!&mdash;Christopher,
+      beg my pardon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I inquire for what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, for not understanding me; for not knowing that I should be sorry the
+      moment you were gone. I took them off the very next day, to please you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Took off whom?&mdash;Oh, I understand. You did? Then you ARE a good
+      girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't I tell you I was? A good, obedient girl, and anything but a
+      flirt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't say that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I do. Don't interrupt. It is to your good advice I owe my health; and
+      to love anybody but you, when I owe you my love and my life, I must be a
+      heartless, ungrateful, worthless&mdash;Oh, Christopher, forgive me! No,
+      no; I mean, beg my pardon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll do both,&rdquo; said Christopher, taking her in his arms. &ldquo;I beg your
+      pardon, and I forgive you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa leaned her head tenderly on his shoulder, and began to sigh. &ldquo;Oh,
+      dear, dear! I am a wicked, foolish girl, not fit to walk alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On this admission, Christopher spoke out, and urged her to put an end to
+      all these unhappy misunderstandings, and to his new torment, jealousy, by
+      marrying him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so I would this very minute, if papa would consent. But,&rdquo; said she,
+      slyly, &ldquo;you never can be so foolish to wish it. What! a wise man like you
+      marry a simpleton!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did I ever call you that?&rdquo; asked Christopher, reproachfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, dear; but you are the only one who has not; and perhaps I should lose
+      even the one, if you were to marry me. Oh, husbands are not so polite as
+      lovers! I have observed that, simpleton or not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher assured her that he took quite a different view of her
+      character; he believed her to be too profound for shallow people to read
+      all in a moment: he even intimated that he himself had experienced no
+      little difficulty in understanding her at odd times. &ldquo;And so,&rdquo; said he,
+      &ldquo;they turn round upon you, and instead of saying, 'We are too shallow to
+      fathom you,' they pretend you are a simpleton.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This solution of the mystery had never occurred to Rosa, nor indeed was it
+      likely to occur to any creature less ingenious than a lover: it pleased
+      her hugely; her fine eyes sparkled, and she nestled closer still to the
+      strong arm that was to parry every ill, from mortal disease to galling
+      epithets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She listened with a willing ear to all his reasons, his hopes, his fears,
+      and, when they reached her father's door, it was settled that he should
+      dine there that day, and urge his suit to her father after dinner. She
+      would implore the old gentleman to listen to it favorably.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lovers parted, and Christopher went home like one who has awakened
+      from a hideous dream to daylight and happiness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had not gone far before he met a dashing dogcart, driven by an
+      exquisite. He turned to look after it, and saw it drive up to Kent Villa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a moment he divined his rival, and a sickness of heart came over him.
+      But he recovered himself directly, and said, &ldquo;If that is the fellow, she
+      will not receive him now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did receive him though: at all events, the dogcart stood at the door,
+      and its master remained inside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher stood, and counted the minutes: five, ten, fifteen, twenty
+      minutes, and still the dogcart stood there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was more than he could bear. He turned savagely, and strode back to
+      Gravesend, resolving that all this torture should end that night, one way
+      or other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe Dale was the daughter of a farmer in Essex, and one of the happiest
+      young women in England till she knew Reginald Falcon, Esq.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was reared on wholesome food, in wholesome air, and used to churn
+      butter, make bread, cook a bit now and then, cut out and sew all her own
+      dresses, get up her own linen, make hay, ride anything on four legs; and,
+      for all that, was a great reader, and taught in the Sunday school to
+      oblige the vicar; wrote a neat hand, and was a good arithmetician, kept
+      all the house accounts and farm accounts. She was a musician, too,&mdash;not
+      profound, but very correct. She would take her turn at the harmonium in
+      church, and, when she was there, you never heard a wrong note in the bass,
+      nor an inappropriate flourish, nor bad time. She could sing, too, but
+      never would, except her part in a psalm. Her voice was a deep contralto,
+      and she chose to be ashamed of this heavenly organ, because a pack of
+      envious girls had giggled, and said it was like a man's.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In short, her natural ability and the range and variety of her useful
+      accomplishments were considerable; not that she was a prodigy; but she
+      belonged to a small class of women in this island who are not too high to
+      use their arms, nor too low to cultivate their minds; and, having a
+      faculty and a habit deplorably rare amongst her sex, viz., Attention, she
+      had profited by her miscellaneous advantages.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her figure and face both told her breed at once: here was an old English
+      pastoral beauty; not the round-backed, narrow-chested cottager, but the
+      well-fed, erect rustic, with broad, full bust and massive shoulder, and
+      arm as hard as a rock with health and constant use; a hand finely cut,
+      though neither small nor very white, and just a little hard inside,
+      compared with Luxury's soft palm; a face honest, fair, and rather large
+      than small; not beautiful, but exceedingly comely; a complexion not pink
+      and white, but that delicately blended brickdusty color, which tints the
+      whole cheek in fine gradation, outlasts other complexions twenty years,
+      and beautifies the true Northern, even in old age. Gray, limpid, honest,
+      point-blank, searching eyes; hair true nut-brown, without a shade of red
+      or black; and a high, smooth forehead, full of sense. Across it ran one
+      deep wrinkle that did not belong to her youth. That wrinkle was the brand
+      of trouble, the line of agony. It had come of loving above her, yet below
+      her, and of loving an egotist.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Three years before our tale commenced, a gentleman's horse ran away with
+      him, and threw him on a heap of stones by the roadside, not very far from
+      Farmer Dale's gate. The farmer had him taken in. The doctor said he must
+      not be moved. He was insensible; his cheek like delicate wax; his fair
+      hair like silk stained with blood. He became Phoebe's patient, and, in due
+      course, her convalescent: his pale, handsome face and fascinating manners
+      gained one charm more from weakness; his vices were in abeyance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The womanly nurse's heart yearned over her child; for he was feeble as a
+      child; and, when he got well enough to amuse his weary hours by making
+      love to her, and telling her a pack of arrant lies, she was a ready dupe.
+      He was to marry her as soon as ever his old uncle died, and left him the
+      means, etc., etc. At last he got well enough to leave her, and went away,
+      her open admirer and secret lover. He borrowed twenty pounds of her the
+      day he left.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He used to write her charming letters, and feed the flame; but one day her
+      father sent her up to London, on his own business, all of a sudden, and
+      she called on Mr. Falcon at his real address. She found he did not live
+      there&mdash;only received letters. However, half-a-crown soon bought his
+      real address, and thither Phoebe proceeded with a troubled heart, for she
+      suspected that her true lover was in debt or trouble, and obliged to hide.
+      Well, he must be got out of it, and hide at the farm meantime.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So the loving girl knocked at the door, asked for Mr. Falcon, and was
+      shown in to a lady rather showily dressed, who asked her business.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe Dale stared at her, and then turned pale as ashes. She was
+      paralyzed, and could not find her tongue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, what is the matter now?&rdquo; said the other, sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you married to Reginald Falcon?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I am. Look at my wedding-ring.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I am not wanted here,&rdquo; faltered Phoebe, ready to sink on the floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly not, if you are one of the bygones,&rdquo; said the woman, coarsely;
+      and Phoebe Dale waited to hear no more, but found her way, Heaven knows
+      how, into the street, and there leaned, half-fainting, on a rail, till a
+      policeman came, and told her she had been drinking, and suggested a cool
+      cell as the best cure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not drink; only a breaking heart,&rdquo; said she, in her low, mellow voice
+      that few could resist.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He got her a glass of water, drove away the boys that congregated
+      directly, and she left the street. But she soon came back again, and
+      waited about for Reginald Falcon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was night when he appeared. She seized him by the breast, and taxed him
+      with his villany.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What with her iron grasp, pale face, and flashing eyes, he lost his cool
+      impudence, and blurted out excuses. It was an old and unfortunate
+      connection; he would give the world to dissolve it, if he could do it like
+      a gentleman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe told him to please himself: he must part with one or the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't talk nonsense,&rdquo; said this man of brass; &ldquo;I'll un-Falcon her on the
+      spot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said Phoebe. &ldquo;I am going home; and, if you are not there by
+      to-morrow at noon&rdquo;&mdash;She said no more, but looked a great deal. Then
+      she departed, and refused him her hand at parting. &ldquo;We will see about that
+      by and by,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At noon my lord came down to the farm, and, unfortunately for Phoebe,
+      played the penitent so skilfully for about a month, that she forgave him,
+      and loved him all the more for having so nearly parted with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her peace was not to endure long. He was detected in an intrigue in the
+      very village.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The insult struck so home that Phoebe herself, to her parents'
+      satisfaction, ordered him out of the house at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, when he was gone, she had fits of weeping, and could settle to
+      nothing for a long time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Months had elapsed, and she was getting a sort of dull tranquillity, when,
+      one evening, taking a walk she had often with him, and mourning her
+      solitude and wasted affection, he waylaid her, and clung to her knees, and
+      shed crocodile tears on her hands, and, after a long resistance, violent
+      at first, but fainter and fainter, got her in his power again, and that so
+      completely that she met him several times by night, being ashamed to be
+      seen with him in those parts by day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This ended in fresh promises of marriage, and in a constant correspondence
+      by letter. This pest knew exactly how to talk to a woman, and how to write
+      to one. His letters fed the unhappy flame; and, mind you, he sometimes
+      deceived himself, and thought he loved her; but it was only himself he
+      loved. She was an invaluable lover; a faithful, disinterested friend; hers
+      was a vile bargain; his, an excellent one, and he clung to it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And so they went on. She detected him in another infidelity, and
+      reproached him bitterly; but she had no longer the strength to break with
+      him. Nevertheless, this time she had the sense to make a struggle. She
+      implored him, on her very knees, to show her a little mercy in return for
+      all her love. &ldquo;For pity's sake, leave me!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;You are strong, and
+      I am weak. You can end it forever, and pray do. You don't want me; you
+      don't value me: then, leave me, once and for all, and end this hell you
+      keep me in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No; he could not, or he would not, leave her alone. Look at a bird's
+      wings!&mdash;how like an angel's! Yet so vile a thing as a bit of birdlime
+      subdues them utterly; and such was the fascinating power of this mean man
+      over this worthy woman. She was a reader, a thinker, a model of
+      respectability, industry, and sense; a businesswoman, keen and practical;
+      could encounter sharp hands in sharp trades; could buy or sell hogs,
+      calves, or beasts with any farmer or butcher in the country, yet no match
+      for a cunning fool. She had enshrined an idol in her heart, and that heart
+      adored it, and clung to it, though the superior head saw through it,
+      dreaded it, despised it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No wonder three years of this had drawn a tell-tale wrinkle across the
+      polished brow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe Dale had not received a letter for some days; that roused her
+      suspicion and stung her jealousy; she came up to London by fast train, and
+      down to Gravesend directly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had a thick veil that concealed her features; and with a little
+      inquiring and bribing, she soon found out that Mr. Falcon was there with a
+      showy dogcart. &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; thought Phoebe, &ldquo;he has won a little money at play or
+      pigeon-shooting; so now he has no need of me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She took the lodgings opposite him, but observed nothing till this very
+      morning, when she saw him throw off his dressing-gown all in a hurry and
+      fling on his coat. She tied on her bonnet as rapidly, and followed him,
+      until she discovered the object of his pursuit. It was a surprise to her,
+      and a puzzle, to see another man step in, as if to take her part. But as
+      Reginald still followed the loitering pair, she followed Reginald, till he
+      turned and found her at his heels, white and lowering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She confronted him in threatening silence for some time, during which he
+      prepared his defence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So it is a LADY this time,&rdquo; said she, in her low, rich voice, sternly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, and I should say she is bespoke&mdash;that tall, fine-built
+      gentleman. But I suppose you care no more for his feelings than you do for
+      mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Phoebe,&rdquo; said the egotist, &ldquo;I will not try to deceive you. You have often
+      said you are my true friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I think I have proved it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That you have. Well, then, be my true friend now. I am in love&mdash;really
+      in love&mdash;this time. You and I only torment each other; let us part
+      friends. There are plenty of farmers in Essex that would jump at you. As
+      for me, I'll tell you the truth; I have run through every farthing; my
+      estate mortgaged beyond its value&mdash;two or three writs out against me&mdash;that
+      is why I slipped down here. My only chance is to marry Money. Her father
+      knows I have land, and he knows nothing about the mortgages; she is his
+      only daughter. Don't stand in my way, that is a good girl; be my friend,
+      as you always were. Hang it all, Phoebe, can't you say a word to a fellow
+      that is driven into a corner, instead of glaring at me like that? There! I
+      know it is ungrateful; but what can a fellow do? I must live like a
+      gentleman or else take a dose of prussic acid; you don't want to drive me
+      to that. Why, you proposed to part, last time, yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She gave him one majestic, indescribable look, that made even his callous
+      heart quiver, and turned away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the scamp admired her for despising him, and could not bear to lose
+      her. He followed her, and put forth all those powers of persuading and
+      soothing, which had so often proved irresistible. But this time it was in
+      vain. The insult was too savage, and his egotism too brutal, for honeyed
+      phrases to blind her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After enduring it a long time with a silent shudder, she turned and shook
+      him fiercely off her like some poisonous reptile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you want me to kill you? I'd liever kill myself for loving such a
+      thing as THOU. Go thy ways, man, and let me go mine.&rdquo; In her passion she
+      dropped her cultivation for once, and went back to the THOU and THEE of
+      her grandam.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He colored up and looked spiteful enough; but he soon recovered his
+      cynical egotism, and went off whistling an operatic passage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She crept to her lodgings, and buried her face in her pillow, and rocked
+      herself to and fro for hours in the bitterest agony the heart can feel,
+      groaning over her great affection wasted, flung into the dirt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While she was thus, she heard a little commotion. She came to the window
+      and saw Falcon, exquisitely dressed, drive off in his dogcart, attended by
+      the acclamations of eight boys. She saw at a glance he was gone courting;
+      her knees gave way under her, and, such is the power of the mind, this
+      stalwart girl lay weak as water on the sofa, and had not the power to go
+      home, though just then she had but one wish, one hope&mdash;to see her
+      idol's face no more, nor hear his wheedling tongue, that had ruined her
+      peace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The exquisite Mr. Falcon was received by Rosa Lusignan with a certain
+      tremor that flattered his hopes. He told her, in charming language, how he
+      had admired her at first sight, then esteemed her, then loved her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She blushed and panted, and showed more than once a desire to interrupt
+      him, but was too polite. She heard him out with rising dismay, and he
+      offered her his hand and heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But by this time she had made up her mind what to say. &ldquo;O Mr. Falcon!&rdquo; she
+      cried, &ldquo;how can you speak to me in this way? Why, I am engaged. Didn't you
+      know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I am sure you are not, or you would never have given me the
+      encouragement you have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, all engaged young ladies flirt&mdash;a little; and everybody here
+      knows I am engaged to Dr. Staines.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, I never saw him here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa's tact was a quality that came and went; so she blushed, and faltered
+      out, &ldquo;We had a little tiff, as lovers will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you did me the honor to select me as cat's-paw to bring him on again.
+      Was not that rather heartless?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa's fitful tact returned to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, sir, do not think so ill of me. I am not heartless, I am only unwise;
+      and you are so superior to the people about you; I could not help
+      appreciating you, and I thought you knew I was engaged, and so I was less
+      on my guard. I hope I shall not lose your esteem, though I have no right
+      to anything more. Ah! I see by your face I have behaved very ill: pray
+      forgive me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And with this she turned on the waters of the Nile, better known to you,
+      perhaps, as &ldquo;crocodile tears.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon was a gentleman on the surface, and knew he should only make
+      matters worse by quarrelling with her. So he ground his teeth, and said,
+      &ldquo;May your own heart never feel the pangs you have inflicted. I shall love
+      you and remember you till my dying day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He bowed ceremoniously and left her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay,&rdquo; said he to himself, &ldquo;I WILL remember you, you heartless jilt, and
+      the man you have jilted me for. Staines is his d&mdash;d name, is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He drove back crestfallen, bitter, and, for once in his life, heart-sick,
+      and drew up at his lodgings. Here he found attendants waiting to receive
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A sheriff's officer took his dogcart and horse under a judgment; the
+      disturbance this caused collected a tiny crowd, gaping and grinning, and
+      brought Phoebe's white face and eyes swollen with weeping to the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon saw her and brazened it out. &ldquo;Take them,&rdquo; said he, with an oath.
+      &ldquo;I'll have a better turn-out by to-morrow, breakfast-time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The crowd cheered him for his spirit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He got down, lit a cigar, chaffed the officer and the crowd, and was, on
+      the whole, admired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then another officer, who had been hunting him in couples with the other,
+      stepped forward and took HIM, for the balance of a judgment debt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the swell's cigar fell out of his mouth, and he was seriously
+      alarmed. &ldquo;Why, Cartwright,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;this is too bad. You promised not to
+      see me this month. You passed me full in the Strand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are mistaken, sir,&rdquo; said Cartwright, with sullen irony. &ldquo;I've got a
+      twin-brother; a many takes him for me, till they finds the difference.&rdquo;
+       Then, lowering his voice, &ldquo;What call had you to boast in your club you had
+      made it right with Bill Cartwright, and he'd never see you? That got
+      about, and so I was bound to see you or lose my bread. There's one or two
+      I don't see, but then they are real gentlemen, and thinks of me as well as
+      theirselves, and doesn't blab.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must have been drunk,&rdquo; said Falcon apologetically. &ldquo;More likely blowing
+      a cloud. When you young gents gets a-smoking together, you'd tell on your
+      own mothers. Come along, colonel, off we go to Merrimashee.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, it is only twenty-six pounds. I have paid the rest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More than that; there's the costs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come in, and I'll settle it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, sir. Jem, watch the back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I shall not try that game with a sharp hand like you, Cartwright.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had better not, sir,&rdquo; said Cartwright; but he was softened a little
+      by the compliment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When they were alone, Falcon began by saying it was a bad job for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, I thought you was a-going to pay it all in a moment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't; but I have got a friend over the way that could, if she chose.
+      She has always got money, somehow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, if it is a she, it is all right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know. She has quarrelled with me; but give me a little time.
+      Here! have a glass of sherry and a biscuit, while I try it on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Having thus muffled Cartwright, this man of the world opened his window
+      and looked out. The crowd had followed the captured dogcart, so he had the
+      street to himself. He beckoned to Phoebe, and after considerable
+      hesitation she opened her window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Phoebe,&rdquo; said he, in tones of tender regret, admirably natural and sweet,
+      &ldquo;I shall never offend you again; so forgive me this once. I have given
+      that girl up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not you,&rdquo; said Phoebe, sullenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed I have. After our quarrel, I started to propose to her; but I had
+      not the heart; I came back and left her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Time will show. If it is not her, it will be some other, you false,
+      heartless villain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, I say, don't be so hard on me in trouble. I am going to prison.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! but it is worse than you think. I am only taken for a paltry thirty
+      pounds or so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thirty-three, fifteen, five,&rdquo; suggested Cartwright, in a muffled whisper,
+      his mouth being full of biscuit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But once they get me to a sponging-house, detainers will pour in, and my
+      cruel creditors will confine me for life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the best place for you. It will put a stop to your wickedness, and
+      I shall be at peace. That's what I have never known, night or day, this
+      three years.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you will not be happy if you see me go to prison before your eyes.
+      Were you ever inside a prison? Just think what it must be to be cooped up
+      in those cold grim cells all alone; for they use a debtor like a criminal
+      now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe shuddered; but she said, bravely, &ldquo;Well, tell THEM you have been
+      a-courting. There was a time I'd have died sooner than see a hair of your
+      head hurt; but it is all over now; you have worn me out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she began to cry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon heaved a deep sigh. &ldquo;It is no more than I deserve,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I'll
+      pack up my things, and go with the officer. Give me one kind word at
+      parting, and I'll think of it in my prison, night and day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He withdrew from the window with another deep sigh, told Cartwright,
+      cheerfully, it was all right, and proceeded to pack up his traps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime Phoebe sat at her window and cried bitterly. Her words had been
+      braver than her heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon managed to pay the trifle he owed for the lodgings, and presently
+      he came out with Cartwright, and the attendant called a cab. His things
+      were thrown in, and Cartwright invited him to follow. Then he looked up,
+      and cast a genuine look of terror and misery at Phoebe. He thought she
+      would have relented before this.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her heart gave way; I am afraid it would, even without that piteous and
+      mute appeal. She opened the window, and asked Mr. Cartwright if he would
+      be good enough to come and speak to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Cartwright committed his prisoner to the subordinate, and knocked at the
+      door of Phoebe's lodgings. She came down herself and let him in. She led
+      the way upstairs, motioned him to a seat, sat down by him, and began to
+      cry again. She was thoroughly unstrung.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Cartwright was human, and muttered some words of regret that a poor fellow
+      must do his duty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it is not that,&rdquo; sobbed Phoebe. &ldquo;I can find the money. I have found
+      more for him than that, many's the time.&rdquo; Then, drying her eyes, &ldquo;But you
+      must know the world, and I dare say you can see how 'tis with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can,&rdquo; said Cartwright, gravely. &ldquo;I overheard you and him; and, my girl,
+      if you take my advice, why, let him go. He is a gentleman skin deep, and
+      dresses well, and can palaver a girl, no doubt; but bless your heart, I
+      can see at a glance he is not worth your little finger, an honest, decent
+      young woman like you. Why, it is like butter fighting with stone. Let him
+      go; or I will tell you what it is, you will hang for him some day, or else
+      make away with yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, sir,&rdquo; said Phoebe, &ldquo;that's likelier; and if I was to let him go to
+      prison, I should sit me down and think of his parting look, and I should
+      fling myself into the water for him before I was a day older.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye mustn't do that anyway. While there's life there's hope.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon this Phoebe put him a question, and found him ready to do anything
+      for her, in reason&mdash;provided he was paid for it. And the end of it
+      all was, the prisoner was conveyed to London; Phoebe got the requisite
+      sum; Falcon was deposited in a third-class carriage bound for Essex.
+      Phoebe paid his debt, and gave Cartwright a present, and away rattled the
+      train conveying the handsome egotist into temporary retirement, to wit, at
+      a village five miles from the Dales' farm. She was too ashamed of her
+      young gentleman and herself to be seen with him in her native village. On
+      the road down he was full of little practical attentions; she received
+      them coldly; his mellifluous mouth was often at her car, pouring thanks
+      and praises into it; she never vouchsafed a word of reply. All she did was
+      to shudder now and then, and cry at intervals. Yet, whenever he left her
+      side, her whole body became restless; and when he came back to her, a
+      furtive thrill announced the insane complacency his bare contact gave her.
+      Surely, of all the forms in which love torments the heart, this was the
+      most terrible and pitiable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Lusignan found his daughter in tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, what is the matter now?&rdquo; said he, a little peevishly. &ldquo;We have had
+      nothing of this sort of thing lately.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Papa, it is because I have misconducted myself. I am a foolish, imprudent
+      girl. I have been flirting with Mr. Falcon, and he has taken a CRUEL
+      advantage of it&mdash;proposed to me&mdash;this very afternoon&mdash;actually!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has he? Well, he is a fine fellow, and has a landed estate in Norfolk.
+      There's nothing like land. They may well call it real property&mdash;there
+      is something to show; you can walk on it, and ride on it, and look out of
+      window at it: that IS property.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, papa! what are you saying? Would you have me marry one man when I
+      belong to another?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you don't belong to any one except to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes; I do. I belong to my dear Christopher.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you dismissed him before my very eyes; and very ill you behaved,
+      begging your pardon. The man was your able physician and your best friend,
+      and said nothing that was not for your good; and you treated him like a
+      dog.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but he has apologized.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What for? being treated like a dog?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't say so, papa! At all events, he has apologized, as a gentleman
+      should whenever&mdash;whenever&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whenever a lady is in the wrong.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't, papa; and I have asked him to dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With all my heart. I shall be downright glad to see him again. You used
+      him abominably.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you need not keep saying so,&rdquo; whined Rosa. &ldquo;And that is not all, dear
+      papa; the worst of it is, Mr. Falcon proposing to me has opened my eyes. I
+      am not fit to be trusted alone. I am too fond of dancing, and flirting
+      will follow somehow. Oh, think how ill I was a few months ago, and how
+      unhappy you were about me! They were killing me. He came and saved me.
+      Yes, papa, I owe all this health and strength to Christopher. I did take
+      them off, the very next day, and see the effect of it and my long walks. I
+      owe him my life, and what I value far more, my good looks. La! I wish I
+      had not told you that. And after all this, don't I belong to my
+      Christopher? How could I be happy or respect myself if I married any one
+      else? And oh, papa! he looks wan and worn. He has been fretting for his
+      Simpleton. Oh, dear! I mustn't think of that&mdash;it makes me cry; and
+      you don't like scenes, do you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hate 'em!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then,&rdquo; said Rosa, coaxingly, &ldquo;I'll tell you how to end them. Marry
+      your Simpleton to the only man who is fit to take care of her. Oh, papa!
+      think of his deep, deep affection for me, and pray don't snub him if&mdash;by
+      any chance&mdash;after dinner&mdash;he should HAPPEN to ask you&mdash;something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, then it is possible that, by the merest chance, the gentleman you
+      have accidentally asked to dinner, may, by some strange fortuity, be
+      surprised into asking me a second time for something very much resembling
+      my daughter's hand&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa colored high. &ldquo;He might, you know. How can I tell what gentlemen will
+      say when the ladies have retired and they are left alone with&mdash;with&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With the bottle. Ay, that's true; when the wine is in, the wit is out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Said Rosa, &ldquo;Well, if he should happen to be so foolish, pray think of ME;
+      of all we owe him, and how much I love him, and ought to love him.&rdquo; She
+      then bestowed a propitiatory kiss, and ran off to dress for dinner; it was
+      a much longer operation to-day than usual.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines was punctual. Mr. Lusignan commented favorably on that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He always is,&rdquo; said Rosa, eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They dined together. Mr. Lusignan chatted freely, but Staines and Rosa
+      were under a feeling of restraint, Staines in particular; he could not
+      help feeling that before long his fate must be settled. He would either
+      obtain Rosa's hand, or have to resign her to some man of fortune who would
+      step in; for beauty such as hers could not long lack brilliant offers.
+      Longing, though dreading, to know his fate, he was glad when dinner ended.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa sat with them a little while after dinner, then rose, bestowed
+      another propitiatory kiss on her father's head, and retired with a modest
+      blush, and a look at Christopher that was almost divine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It inspired him with the courage of lions, and he commenced the attack at
+      once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Lusignan,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;the last time I was here you gave me some hopes
+      that you might be prevailed on to trust that angel's health and happiness
+      to my care.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Dr. Staines, I will not beat about the bush with you. My judgment
+      is still against this marriage; you need not look so alarmed; it does not
+      follow I shall forbid it. I feel I have hardly a right to, for my Rosa
+      might be in her grave now but for you; and, another thing, when I
+      interfered between you two I had no proof you were a man of ability; I had
+      only your sweetheart's word for that; and I never knew a case before where
+      a young lady's swan did not turn out a goose. Your rare ability gives you
+      another chance in the professional battle that is before you; indeed, it
+      puts a different face on the whole matter. I still think it premature.
+      Come now, would it not be much wiser to wait, and secure a good practice
+      before you marry a mere child? There! there! I only advise; I don't
+      dictate; you shall settle it together, you two wiseacres. Only I must make
+      one positive condition. I have nothing to give my child during my
+      lifetime; but one thing I have done for her; years ago I insured my life
+      for six thousand pounds; and you must do the same. I will not have her
+      thrown on the world a widow, with a child or two, perhaps, to support, and
+      not a farthing; you know the insecurity of mortal life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do! I do! Why, of course I will insure my life, and pay the annual
+      premium out of my little capital, until income flows in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you hand me over a sum sufficient to pay that premium for five
+      years?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With pleasure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I fear,&rdquo; said the old gentleman, with a sigh, &ldquo;my opposition to the
+      match must cease here. I still recommend you to wait; but&mdash;there! I
+      might just as well advise fire and tow to live neighbors and keep cool.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To show the injustice of this simile, Christopher Staines started up with
+      his eyes all aglow, and cried out, rapturously, &ldquo;Oh, sir, may I tell her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, you may tell her,&rdquo; said Lusignan, with a smile. &ldquo;Stop&mdash;what are
+      you going to tell her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That you consent, sir. God bless you! God bless you! Oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but that I advise you to wait.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll tell her all,&rdquo; said Staines, and rushed out even as he spoke, and
+      upset a heavy chair with a loud thud.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! ah!&rdquo; cried the old gentleman in dismay, and put his fingers in his
+      ears&mdash;too late. &ldquo;I see,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;there will be no peace and quiet
+      now till they are out of the house.&rdquo; He lighted a soothing cigar to
+      counteract the fracas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor little Rosa! a child but yesterday, and now to encounter the cares
+      of a wife, and perhaps a mother. Ah! she is but young, but young.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old gentleman prophesied truly; from that moment he had no peace till
+      he withdrew all semblance of dissent, and even of procrastination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher insured his life for six thousand pounds, and assigned the
+      policy to his wife. Four hundred pounds was handed to Mr. Lusignan to pay
+      the premiums until the genius of Dr. Staines should have secured him that
+      large professional income, which does not come all at once, even to the
+      rare physician, who is Capax, Efficax, Sagax.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The wedding-day was named. The bridesmaids were selected, the guests
+      invited. None refused but Uncle Philip. He declined, in his fine bold
+      hand, to countenance in person an act of folly he disapproved. Christopher
+      put his letter away with a momentary sigh, and would not show it Rosa. All
+      other letters they read together, charming pastime of that happy period.
+      Presents poured in. Silver teapots, coffeepots, sugar-basins, cream-jugs,
+      fruit-dishes, silver-gilt inkstands, albums, photograph-books, little
+      candlesticks, choice little services of china, shell salt-cellars in a
+      case lined with maroon velvet; a Bible, superb in binding and clasps, and
+      everything but the text&mdash;that was illegible; a silk scarf from
+      Benares; a gold chain from Delhi, six feet long or nearly; a Maltese
+      necklace, a ditto in exquisite filagree from Genoa; English brooches, a
+      trifle too big and brainless; apostle spoons; a treble-lined parasol with
+      ivory stick and handle; an ivory card-case, richly carved; workbox of
+      sandal-wood and ivory, etc. Mr. Lusignan's City friends, as usual with
+      these gentlemen, sent the most valuable things. Every day one or two
+      packages were delivered, and, in opening them, Rosa invariably uttered a
+      peculiar scream of delight, and her father put his fingers in his ears;
+      yet there was music in this very scream, if he would only have listened to
+      it candidly, instead of fixing his mind on his vague theory of screams&mdash;so
+      formed was she to please the ear as well as the eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last came a parcel she opened and stared at, smiling and coloring like
+      a rose, but did not scream, being too dumfounded and perplexed; for lo! a
+      teapot of some base material, but simple and elegant in form, being an
+      exact reproduction of a melon; and inside this teapot a canvas bag
+      containing ten guineas in silver, and a wash-leather bag containing twenty
+      guineas in gold, and a slip of paper, which Rosa, being now half recovered
+      from her stupefaction, read out to her father and Dr. Staines:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;People that buy presents blindfold give duplicates and triplicates; and
+      men seldom choose to a woman's taste; so be pleased to accept the enclosed
+      tea-leaves, and buy for yourself. The teapot you can put on the hob, for
+      it is nickel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa looked sore puzzled again. &ldquo;Papa,&rdquo; said she, timidly, &ldquo;have we any
+      friend that is&mdash;a little&mdash;deranged?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A lot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, then, that accounts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why no, love,&rdquo; said Christopher. &ldquo;I have heard of much learning making a
+      man mad, but never of much good sense.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! Do you call this sensible?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll read it again,&rdquo; said Rosa. &ldquo;Well&mdash;yes&mdash;I declare&mdash;it
+      is not so mad as I thought; but it is very eccentric.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lusignan suggested there was nothing so eccentric as common sense,
+      especially in time of wedding. &ldquo;This,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;comes from the City. It
+      is a friend of mine, some old fox; he is throwing dust in your eyes with
+      his reasons; his real reason was that his time is money; it would have
+      cost the old rogue a hundred pounds' worth of time&mdash;you know the
+      City, Christopher&mdash;to go out and choose the girl a present; so he has
+      sent his clerk out with a check to buy a pewter teapot, and fill it with
+      specie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pewter!&rdquo; cried Rosa. &ldquo;No such thing! It's nickel. What is nickel, I
+      wonder?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The handwriting afforded no clew, so there the discussion ended: but it
+      was a nice little mystery, and very convenient; made conversation. Rosa
+      had many an animated discussion about it with her female friends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The wedding-day came at last. The sun shone&mdash;ACTUALLY, as Rosa
+      observed. The carriages drove up. The bridesmaids, principally old
+      schoolfellows and impassioned correspondents of Rosa, were pretty, and
+      dressed alike and delightfully; but the bride was peerless; her Southern
+      beauty literally shone in that white satin dress and veil, and her head
+      was regal with the Crown of orange-blossoms. Another crown she had&mdash;true
+      virgin modesty. A low murmur burst from the men the moment they saw her;
+      the old women forgave her beauty on the spot, and the young women almost
+      pardoned it; she was so sweet and womanly, and so sisterly to her own sex.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When they started for the church she began to tremble, she scarce knew
+      why; and when the solemn words were said, and the ring was put on her
+      finger, she cried a little, and looked half imploringly at her bridesmaids
+      once, as if seared at leaving them for an untried and mysterious life with
+      no woman near.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were married. Then came the breakfast, that hour of uneasiness and
+      blushing to such a bride as this; but at last she was released. She sped
+      up-stairs, thanking goodness it was over. Down came her last box. The
+      bride followed in a plain travelling dress, which her glorious eyes and
+      brows and her rich glowing cheeks seemed to illumine: she was handed into
+      the carriage, the bridegroom followed. All the young guests clustered
+      about the door, armed with white shoes&mdash;slippers are gone by.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They started; the ladies flung their white shoes right and left with
+      religious impartiality, except that not one of their missiles went at the
+      object. The men, more skilful, sent a shower on to the roof of the
+      carriage, which is the lucky spot. The bride kissed her hand, and managed
+      to put off crying, though it cost her a struggle. The party hurrahed;
+      enthusiastic youths gathered fallen shoes, and ran and hurled them again
+      with cheerful yells, and away went the happy pair, the bride leaning
+      sweetly and confidingly with both her white hands on the bridegroom's
+      shoulder, while he dried the tears that would run now at leaving home and
+      parent forever, and kissed her often, and encircled her with his strong
+      arm, and murmured comfort, and love, and pride, and joy, and sweet vows of
+      lifelong tenderness into her ears, that soon stole nearer his lips to
+      hear, and the fair cheek grew softly to his shoulder.
+    </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>
+      Dr. Staines and Mrs. Staines visited France, Switzerland, and the Rhine,
+      and passed a month of Elysium before they came to London to face their
+      real destiny and fight the battle of life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And here, methinks, a reader of novels may perhaps cry out and say, &ldquo;What
+      manner of man is this, who marries his hero and heroine, and then, instead
+      of leaving them happy for life, and at rest from his uneasy pen and all
+      their other troubles, flows coolly on with their adventures?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To this I can only reply that the old English novel is no rule to me, and
+      life is; and I respectfully propose an experiment. Catch eight old married
+      people, four of each sex, and say unto them, &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; or &ldquo;Madam, did the
+      more remarkable events of your life come to you before marriage or after?&rdquo;
+       Most of them will say &ldquo;after,&rdquo; and let that be my excuse for treating the
+      marriage of Christopher Staines and Rosa Lusignan as merely one incident
+      in their lives; an incident which, so far from ending their story, led by
+      degrees to more striking events than any that occurred to them before they
+      were man and wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They returned, then, from their honey tour, and Staines, who was
+      methodical and kept a diary, made the following entry therein:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have now a life of endurance, and self-denial, and economy, before us;
+      we have to rent a house, and furnish it, and live in it, until
+      professional income shall flow in and make all things easy: and we have
+      two thousand five hundred pounds left to do it with.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They came to a family hotel, and Dr. Staines went out directly after
+      breakfast to look for a house. Acting on a friend's advice, he visited the
+      streets and places north of Oxford Street, looking for a good commodious
+      house adapted to his business. He found three or four at fair rents,
+      neither cheap nor dear, the district being respectable and rather wealthy,
+      but no longer fashionable. He came home with his notes, and found Rosa
+      beaming in a crisp peignoir, and her lovely head its natural size and
+      shape, high-bred and elegant. He sat down, and with her hand in his
+      proceeded to describe the houses to her, when a waiter threw open the door&mdash;&ldquo;Mrs.
+      John Cole.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Florence!&rdquo; cried Rosa, starting up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In flowed Florence: they both uttered a little squawk of delight, and went
+      at each other like two little tigresses, and kissed in swift alternation
+      with a singular ardor, drawing their crests back like snakes, and then
+      darting them forward and inflicting what, to the male philosopher looking
+      on, seemed hard kisses, violent kisses, rather than the tender ones to be
+      expected from two tender creatures embracing each other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Darling,&rdquo; said Rosa, &ldquo;I knew you would be the first. Didn't I tell you
+      so, Christopher?&mdash;My husband&mdash;my darling Florry! Sit down, love,
+      and tell me everything; he has just been looking out for a house. Ah! you
+      have got all that over long ago: she has been married six months. Florry,
+      you are handsomer than ever; and what a beautiful dress! Ah! London is the
+      place. Real Brussels, I declare,&rdquo; and she took hold of her friend's lace
+      and gloated on it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher smiled good-naturedly, and said, &ldquo;I dare say you ladies have a
+      good deal to say to each other.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oceans,&rdquo; said Rosa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will go and hunt houses again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's a good husband,&rdquo; said Mrs. Cole, as soon as the door closed on
+      him, &ldquo;and such a fine man! Why, he must be six feet. Mine is rather short.
+      But he is very good; refuses me nothing. My will is law.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is all right&mdash;you are so sensible; but I want governing a
+      little, and I like it&mdash;actually. Did the dressmaker find it, dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no! I had it by me. I bought it at Brussels on our wedding tour: it
+      is dearer there than in London.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She said this as if &ldquo;dearer&rdquo; and &ldquo;better&rdquo; were synonymous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But about your house, Rosie dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, darling, I'll tell you all about it. I never saw a moire this shade
+      before. I don't care for them in general; but this is so distingue.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence rewarded her with a kiss.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The house,&rdquo; said Rosa. &ldquo;Oh, he has seen one in Portman Street, and one in
+      Gloucester Place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that will never do,&rdquo; cried Mrs. Cole. &ldquo;It is no use being a physician
+      in those out-of-the-way places. He must be in Mayfair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Must he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. Besides, then my Johnnie can call him in when they are just
+      going to die. Johnnie is a general prac., and makes two thousand a year;
+      and he shall call your one in; but he must live in Mayfair. Why, Rosie,
+      you would not be such a goose as to live in those places&mdash;they are
+      quite gone by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall do whatever you advise me, dear. Oh, what a comfort to have a
+      dear friend: and six months married, and knows things. How richly it is
+      trimmed! Why, it is nearly all trimmings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is the fashion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And after that big word there was no more to be said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These two ladies in their conversation gravitated towards dress, and fell
+      flat on it every half-minute. That great and elevating topic held them by
+      a silken cord, but it allowed them to flutter upwards into other topics;
+      and in those intervals, numerous though brief, the lady who had been
+      married six months found time to instruct the matrimonial novice with
+      great authority, and even a shade of pomposity. &ldquo;My dear, the way ladies
+      and gentlemen get a house&mdash;in the first place, you don't go about
+      yourself like that, and you never go to the people themselves, or you are
+      sure to be taken in, but to a respectable house-agent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, dear, that must be the best way, one would think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course it is; and you ask for a house in Mayfair, and he shows you
+      several, and recommends you the best, and sees you are not cheated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, love,&rdquo; said Rosa; &ldquo;now I know what to do; I'll not forget a
+      word. And the train so beautifully shaped! Ah! it is only in London or
+      Paris they can make a dress flow behind like that,&rdquo; etc., etc.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines came back to dinner in good spirits; he had found a house in
+      Harewood Square; good entrance hall, where his gratuitous patients might
+      sit on benches; good dining-room where his superior patients might wait;
+      and good library, to be used as a consulting-room. Rent only eighty-five
+      pounds per annum.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Rosa told him that would never do; a physician must be in the
+      fashionable part of the town.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eventually,&rdquo; said Christopher; &ldquo;but surely at first starting&mdash;and
+      you know they say little boats should not go too far from shore.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Rosa repeated all her friend's arguments, and seemed so unhappy at
+      the idea of not living near her, that Staines, who had not yet said the
+      hard word &ldquo;no&rdquo; to her, gave in; consoling his prudence with the reflection
+      that, after all, Mr. Cole could put many a guinea in his way, for Mr. Cole
+      was middle-aged,&mdash;though his wife was young,&mdash;and had really a
+      very large practice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So next day, the newly-wedded pair called on a house-agent in Mayfair, and
+      his son and partner went with them to several places. The rents of houses
+      equal to that in Harewood Square were three hundred pounds a year at
+      least, and a premium to boot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher told him these were quite beyond the mark. &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said
+      the agent. &ldquo;Then I'll show you a Bijou.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa clapped her hands. &ldquo;That is the thing for us. We don't want a large
+      house, only a beautiful one, and in Mayfair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then the Bijou will be sure to suit you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took them to the Bijou.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Bijou had a small dining-room with one very large window in two sheets
+      of plate glass, and a projecting balcony full of flowers; a still smaller
+      library, which opened on a square yard enclosed. Here were a great many
+      pots, with flowers dead or dying from neglect. On the first floor a
+      fair-sized drawing-room, and a tiny one at the back: on the second floor,
+      one good bedroom, and a dressing-room, or little bedroom: three garrets
+      above.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa was in ecstasies. &ldquo;It is a nest,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a bank-note,&rdquo; said the agent, stimulating equal enthusiasm, after
+      his fashion. &ldquo;You can always sell the lease again for more money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher kept cool. &ldquo;I don't want a house to sell, but to live in, and
+      do my business; I am a physician: now the drawing-room is built over the
+      entrance to a mews; the back rooms all look into a mews: we shall have the
+      eternal noise and smell of a mews. My wife's rest will be broken by the
+      carriages rolling in and out. The hall is fearfully small and stuffy. The
+      rent is abominably high; and what is the premium for, I wonder?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Always a premium in Mayfair, sir. A lease is property here: the gentleman
+      is not acquainted with this part, madam.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, he is,&rdquo; said Rosa, as boldly as a six years' wife: &ldquo;he knows
+      everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then he knows that a house of this kind at a hundred and thirty pounds a
+      year in Mayfair is a bank-note.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines turned to Rosa. &ldquo;The poor patients, where am I to receive them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the stable,&rdquo; suggested the house agent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Rosa, shocked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, the coach-house. Why, there's plenty of room for a brougham,
+      and one horse, and fifty poor patients at a time: beggars musn't be
+      choosers; if you give them physic gratis, that is enough: you ain't bound
+      to find 'em a palace to sit down in, and hot coffee and rump steaks all
+      round, doctor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This tickled Rosa so that she burst out laughing, and thenceforward
+      giggled at intervals, wit of this refined nature having all the charm of
+      novelty for her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They inspected the stables, which were indeed the one redeeming feature in
+      the horrid little Bijou; and then the agent would show them the kitchen,
+      and the new stove. He expatiated on this to Mrs. Staines. &ldquo;Cook a dinner
+      for thirty people, madam.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And there's room for them to eat it&mdash;in the road,&rdquo; said Staines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The agent reminded him there were larger places to be had, by a very
+      simple process, viz., paying for them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines thought of the large, comfortable house in Harewood Square. &ldquo;One
+      hundred and thirty pounds a year for this poky little hole?&rdquo; he groaned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, it is nothing at all for a Bijou.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it is too much for a bandbox.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa laid her hand on his arm, with an imploring glance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I'll submit to the rent, but I really cannot give the
+      premium, it is too ridiculous. He ought to bribe me to rent it, not I
+      him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't be done without, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'll give a hundred pounds and no more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Impossible, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then good morning. Now, dearest, just come and see the house at Harewood
+      Square,&mdash;eighty-five pounds and no premium.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you oblige me with your address, doctor?&rdquo; said the agent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Staines, Morley's Hotel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And so they left Mayfair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa sighed and said, &ldquo;Oh, the nice little place; and we have lost it for
+      two hundred pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Two hundred pounds is a great deal for us to throw away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Being near the Coles would soon have made that up to you: and such a
+      cosey little nest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well the house will not run away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But somebody is sure to snap it up. It is a Bijou.&rdquo; She was disappointed,
+      and half inclined to pout. But she vented her feelings in a letter to her
+      beloved Florry, and appeared at dinner as sweet as usual.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      During dinner a note came from the agent, accepting Dr. Staine's offer. He
+      glozed the matter thus: he had persuaded the owner it was better to take a
+      good tenant at a moderate loss, than to let the Bijou be uninhabited
+      during the present rainy season. An assignment of the lease&mdash;which
+      contained the usual covenants&mdash;would be prepared immediately, and Dr.
+      Staines could have possession in forty-eight hours, by paying the premium.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa was delighted, and as soon as dinner was over, and the waiters gone,
+      she came and kissed Christopher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He smiled, and said, &ldquo;Well, you are pleased; that is the principal thing.
+      I have saved two hundred pounds, and that is something. It will go towards
+      furnishing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La! yes,&rdquo; said Rosa, &ldquo;I forgot. We shall have to get furniture now. How
+      nice!&rdquo; It was a pleasure the man of forecast could have willingly
+      dispensed with; but he smiled at her, and they discussed furniture, and
+      Christopher, whose retentive memory had picked up a little of everything,
+      said there were wholesale upholsterers in the City who sold cheaper than
+      the West-end houses, and he thought the best way was to measure the rooms
+      in the Bijou, and go to the city with a clear idea of what they wanted;
+      ask the prices of various necessary articles, and then make a list, and
+      demand a discount of fifteen per cent on the whole order, being so
+      considerable, and paid for in cash.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa acquiesced, and told Christopher he was the cleverest man in England.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      About nine o'clock Mrs. Cole came in to condole with her friend, and heard
+      the good news. When Rosa told her how they thought of furnishing, she
+      said, &ldquo;Oh no, you must not do that; you will pay double for everything.
+      That is the mistake Johnnie and I made; and after that a friend of mine
+      took me to the auction-rooms, and I saw everything sold&mdash;oh, such
+      bargains; half, and less than half, their value. She has furnished her
+      house almost entirely from sales, and she has the loveliest things in the
+      world&mdash;such ducks of tables, and jardinieres, and things; and
+      beautiful rare china&mdash;her house swarms with it&mdash;for an old song.
+      A sale is the place. And then so amusing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but,&rdquo; said Christopher, &ldquo;I should not like my wife to encounter a
+      public room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not alone, of course; but with me. La! Dr. Staines, they are too full of
+      buying and selling to trouble their heads about us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Christopher, do let me go with her. Am I always to be a child?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus appealed to before a stranger, Staines replied warmly, &ldquo;No, dearest,
+      no; you cannot please me better than by beginning life in earnest. If you
+      two ladies together can face an auction-room, go by all means; only I must
+      ask you not to buy china or ormulu, or anything that will break or spoil,
+      but only solid, good furniture.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Won't you come with us?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; or you might feel yourself in leading-strings. Remember the Bijou is
+      a small house; choose your furniture to fit it, and then we shall save
+      something by its being so small.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was Wednesday. There was a weekly sale in Oxford Street on Fridays;
+      and the ladies made the appointment accordingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day, after breakfast, Christopher was silent and thoughtful awhile,
+      and at last said to Rosa, &ldquo;I'll show you I don't look on you as a child;
+      I'll consult you in a delicate matter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa's eyes sparkled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is about my Uncle Philip. He has been very cruel; he has wounded me
+      deeply; he has wounded me through my wife. I never thought he would refuse
+      to come to our marriage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And did he? You never showed me his letter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were not my wife then. I kept an affront from you; but now, you see,
+      I keep nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear Christie!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am so happy, I have got over that sting&mdash;almost; and the memory of
+      many kind acts comes back to me; and I don't know what to do. It seems
+      ungrateful not to visit him&mdash;it seems almost mean to call.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll tell you; take me to see him directly. He won't hate us forever, if
+      he sees us often. We may as well begin at once. Nobody hates me long.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher was proud of his wife's courage and wisdom. He kissed her,
+      begged her to put on the plainest dress she could, and they went together
+      to call on Uncle Philip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When they got to his house in Gloucester Place, Portman Square, Rosa's
+      heart began to quake, and she was right glad when the servant said &ldquo;Not at
+      home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They left their cards and address; and she persuaded Christopher to take
+      her to the sale-room to see the things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A lot of brokers were there, like vultures; and one after another stepped
+      forward and pestered them to employ him in the morning. Dr. Staines
+      declined their services civilly but firmly, and he and Rosa looked over a
+      quantity of furniture, and settled what sort of things to buy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another broker came up, and whenever the couple stopped before an article,
+      proceeded to praise it as something most extraordinary. Staines listened
+      in cold, satirical silence, and told his wife, in French, to do the same.
+      Notwithstanding their marked disgust, the impudent, intrusive fellow stuck
+      to them, and forced his venal criticism on them, and made them
+      uncomfortable, and shortened their tour of observation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I shall come with you to-morrow,&rdquo; said Christopher, &ldquo;or I shall
+      have these blackguards pestering you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Florry will send them to the right-about. She is as brave as a lion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day Dr. Staines was sent for into the City at twelve to pay the money
+      and receive the lease of the Bijou, and this and the taking possession
+      occupied him till four o'clock, when he came to his hotel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime, his wife and Mrs. Cole had gone to the auction-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a large room, with a good sprinkling of people, but not crowded
+      except about the table. At the head of this table&mdash;full twenty feet
+      long&mdash;was the auctioneer's pulpit, and the lots were brought in turn
+      to the other end of the table for sight and sale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must try and get a seat,&rdquo; said the enterprising Mrs. Cole, and pushed
+      boldly in; the timid Rosa followed strictly in her wake, and so evaded the
+      human waves her leader clove. They were importuned at every step by
+      brokers thrusting catalogues on them, with offers of their services, yet
+      they soon got to the table. A gentleman resigned one chair, a broker
+      another, and they were seated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Staines let down half her veil, but Mrs. Cole surveyed the company
+      point-blank.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The broker who had given up his seat, and now stood behind Rosa, offered
+      her his catalogue. &ldquo;No, thank you,&rdquo; said Rosa; &ldquo;I have one;&rdquo; and she
+      produced it, and studied it, yet managed to look furtively at the company.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There were not above a dozen private persons visible from where Rosa sat;
+      perhaps as many more in the whole room. They were easily distinguishable
+      by their cleanly appearance: the dealers, male or female, were more or
+      less rusty, greasy, dirty, aquiline. Not even the amateurs were brightly
+      dressed; that fundamental error was confined to Mesdames Cole and Staines.
+      The experienced, however wealthy, do not hunt bargains in silk and satin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The auctioneer called &ldquo;Lot 7. Four saucepans, two trays, a kettle, a
+      bootjack, and a towel-horse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      These were put up at two shillings, and speedily knocked down for five to
+      a fat old woman in a greasy velvet jacket; blind industry had sewed bugles
+      on it, not artfully, but agriculturally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The lady on the left!&rdquo; said the auctioneer to his clerk. That meant &ldquo;Get
+      the money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old lady plunged a huge paw into a huge pocket, and pulled out a huge
+      handful of coin&mdash;copper, silver, and gold&mdash;and paid for the lot;
+      and Rosa surveyed her dirty hands and nails with innocent dismay. &ldquo;Oh,
+      what a dreadful creature!&rdquo; she whispered; &ldquo;and what can she want with
+      those old rubbishy things? I saw a hole in one from here.&rdquo; The broker
+      overheard, and said, &ldquo;She is a dealer, ma'am, and the things were given
+      away. She'll sell them for a guinea, easy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't I tell you?&rdquo; said Mrs. Cole.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon after this the superior lots came on, and six very neat bedroom
+      chairs were sold to all appearance for fifteen shillings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next lot was identical, and Rosa hazarded a bid,&mdash;&ldquo;Sixteen
+      shillings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Instantly some dealer, one of the hook-nosed that gathered round each lot
+      as it came to the foot of the table, cried &ldquo;Eighteen shillings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nineteen,&rdquo; said Rosa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A guinea,&rdquo; said the dealer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't let it go,&rdquo; said the broker behind her. &ldquo;Don't let it go, ma'am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She colored at the intrusion, and left off bidding directly, and addressed
+      herself to Mrs. Cole. &ldquo;Why should I give so much, when the last were sold
+      for fifteen shillings?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The real reason was that the first lot was not bid for at all, except by
+      the proprietor. However, the broker gave her a very different solution; he
+      said, &ldquo;The trade always run up a lady or a gentleman. Let me bid for you;
+      they won't run me up; they know better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa did not reply, but looked at Mrs. Cole.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, dear,&rdquo; said that lady; &ldquo;you had much better let him bid for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said Rosa; &ldquo;you can bid for this chest of drawers&mdash;lot
+      25.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When lot 25 came on, the broker bid in the silliest possible way, if his
+      object had been to get a bargain. He began to bid early and
+      ostentatiously; the article was protected by somebody or other there
+      present, who now of course saw his way clear; he ran it up audaciously,
+      and it was purchased for Rosa at about the price it could have been bought
+      for at a shop.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next thing she wanted was a set of oak chairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They went up to twenty-eight pounds; then she said, &ldquo;I shall give no more,
+      sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Better not lose them,&rdquo; said the agent; &ldquo;they are a great bargain;&rdquo; and
+      bid another pound for her on his own responsibility.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were still run up, and Rosa peremptorily refused to give any more.
+      She lost them, accordingly, by good luck. Her faithful broker looked
+      blank; so did the proprietor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, as the sale proceeded, she being young, the competition, though most
+      of it sham, being artful and exciting, and the traitor she employed
+      constantly puffing every article, she was drawn in to wishing for things,
+      and bidding by her feelings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then her traitor played a game that has been played a hundred times, and
+      the perpetrators never once lynched, as they ought to be, on the spot. He
+      signalled a confederate with a hooked nose; the Jew rascal bid against the
+      Christian scoundrel, and so they ran up the more enticing things to twice
+      their value under the hammer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa got flushed, and her eye gleamed like a gambler's, and she bought
+      away like wildfire. In which sport she caught sight of an old gentleman,
+      with little black eyes that kept twinkling at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She complained of these eyes to Mrs. Cole. &ldquo;Why does he twinkle so? I can
+      see it is at me. I am doing something foolish&mdash;I know I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Cole turned, and fixed a haughty stare on the old gentleman. Would
+      you believe it? instead of sinking through the floor, he sat his ground,
+      and retorted with a cold, clear grin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But now, whenever Rosa's agent bid for her, and the other man of straw
+      against him, the black eyes twinkled, and Rosa's courage began to ooze
+      away. At last she said, &ldquo;That is enough for one day. I shall go. Who could
+      bear those eyes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The broker took her address; so did the auctioneer's clerk. The auctioneer
+      asked her for no deposit; her beautiful, innocent, and high-bred face was
+      enough for a man who was always reading faces, and interpreting them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And so they retired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But this charming sex is like that same auctioneer's hammer, it cannot go
+      abruptly. It is always going&mdash;going&mdash;going&mdash;a long time
+      before it is gone. I think it would perhaps loiter at the door of a jail,
+      with the order of release in its hand, after six years' confinement.
+      Getting up to go quenches in it the desire to go. So these ladies having
+      got up to go, turned and lingered, and hung fire so long, that at last
+      another set of oak chairs came up. &ldquo;Oh! I must see what these go for,&rdquo;
+       said Rosa, at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The bidding was mighty languid now Rosa's broker was not stimulating it;
+      and the auctioneer was just knocking down twelve chairs&mdash;oak and
+      leather&mdash;and two arm-chairs, for twenty pounds, when, casting his
+      eyes around, he caught sight of Rosa looking at him rather excited. He
+      looked inquiringly at her. She nodded slightly; he knocked them down to
+      her at twenty guineas, and they were really a great bargain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Twenty-two,&rdquo; cried the dealer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Too late,&rdquo; said the auctioneer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I spoke with the hammer, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;After the hammer, Isaacs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shelp me God, we was together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      One or two more of his tribe confirmed this pious falsehood, and clamored
+      to have them put up again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Call the next lot,&rdquo; said the auctioneer, peremptorily. &ldquo;Make up your mind
+      a little quicker next time, Mr. Isaacs; you have been long enough at it to
+      know the value of oak and moroccar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Staines and her friend now started for Morley's Hotel, but went round
+      by Regent Street, whereby they got glued at Peter Robinson's window, and
+      nine other windows; and it was nearly five o'clock when they reached
+      Morley's. As they came near the door of their sitting-room, Mrs. Staines
+      heard somebody laughing and talking to her husband. The laugh, to her
+      subtle ears, did not sound musical and genial, but keen, satirical,
+      unpleasant; so it was with some timidity she opened the door, and there
+      sat the old chap with the twinkling eyes. Both parties stared at each
+      other a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, it is them,&rdquo; cried the old gentleman. &ldquo;Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa colored all over, and felt guilty somehow, and looked miserable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rosa dear,&rdquo; said Dr. Staines, &ldquo;this is our Uncle Philip.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Rosa, and turned red and pale by turns; for she had a great
+      desire to propitiate Uncle Philip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were in the auction-room, sir?&rdquo; said Mrs. Cole, severely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was, madam. He! he!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Furnishing a house?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, ma'am. I go to a dozen sales a week; but it is not to buy&mdash;I
+      enjoy the humors. Did you ever hear of Robert Burton, ma'am?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Yes; a great traveller, isn't he? Discovered the Nile&mdash;or the
+      Niger&mdash;or SOMETHING?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This majestic vagueness staggered old Crusty at first, but he recovered
+      his equilibrium, and said, &ldquo;Why, yes, now I think of it, you are right; he
+      has travelled farther than most of us, for about two centuries ago he
+      visited that bourn whence no traveller returns. Well, when he was alive&mdash;he
+      was a student of Christchurch&mdash;he used to go down to a certain bridge
+      over the Isis and enjoy the chaff of the bargemen. Now there are no
+      bargemen left to speak of; the mantle of Bobby Burton's bargees has fallen
+      on the Jews and demi-semi-Christians that buy and sell furniture at the
+      weekly auctions; thither I repair to hear what little coarse wit is left
+      us. Used to go to the House of Commons; but they are getting too civil by
+      half for my money. Besides, characters come out in an auction. For
+      instance, only this very day I saw two ladies enter, in gorgeous attire,
+      like heifers decked for sacrifice, and reduce their spoliation to a
+      certainty by employing a broker to bid. Now, what is a broker? A fellow
+      who is to be paid a shilling in the pound for all articles purchased. What
+      is his interest, then? To buy cheap? Clearly not. He is paid in proportion
+      to the dearness of the article.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa's face began to work piteously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Accordingly, what did the broker in question do? He winked to another
+      broker, and these two bid against one another, over their victim's head,
+      and ran everything she wanted up at least a hundred per cent above the
+      value. So open and transparent a swindle I have seldom seen, even in an
+      auction-room. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His mirth was interrupted by Rosa going to her husband, hiding her head on
+      his shoulder, and meekly crying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher comforted her like a man. &ldquo;Don't you cry, darling,&rdquo; said he;
+      &ldquo;how should a pure creature like you know the badness of the world all in
+      a moment? If it is my wife you are laughing at, Uncle Philip, let me tell
+      you this is the wrong place. I'd rather a thousand times have her as she
+      is, than armed with the cunning and suspicions of a hardened old worldling
+      like you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With all my heart,&rdquo; said Uncle Philip, who, to do him justice, could take
+      blows as well as give them; &ldquo;but why employ a broker? Why pay a scoundrel
+      five per cent to make you pay a hundred per cent? Why pay a noisy fool a
+      farthing to open his mouth for you when you have taken the trouble to be
+      there yourself, and have got a mouth of your own to bid discreetly with?
+      Was ever such an absurdity?&rdquo; He began to get angry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you want to quarrel with me, Uncle Philip?&rdquo; said Christopher, firing
+      up; &ldquo;because sneering at my Rosa is the way, and the only way, and the
+      sure way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no,&rdquo; said Rosa, interposing. &ldquo;Uncle Philip was right. I am very
+      foolish and inexperienced, but I am not so vain as to turn from good
+      advice. I will never employ a broker again, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Uncle Philip smiled and looked pleased.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Cole caused a diversion by taking leave, and Rosa followed her
+      down-stairs. On her return she found Christopher telling his uncle all
+      about the Bijou, and how he had taken it for a hundred and thirty pounds a
+      year and a hundred pounds premium, and Uncle Philip staring fearfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last he found his tongue. &ldquo;The Bijou!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Why, that is a name
+      they gave to a little den in Dear Street, Mayfair. You haven't ever been
+      and taken THAT! Built over a mews.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher groaned. &ldquo;That is the place, I fear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why the owner is a friend of mine; an old patient. Stables stunk him out.
+      Let it to a man; I forget his name. Stables stunk HIM out. He said, 'I
+      shall go.' 'You can't,' said my friend; 'you have taken a lease.' 'Lease
+      be d&mdash;d,' said the other; 'I never took YOUR house; here's quite a
+      large stench not specified in your description of the property&mdash;IT
+      CAN'T BE THE SAME PLACE;' flung the lease at his head, and cut like the
+      wind to foreign parts less odoriferous. I'd have got you the hole for
+      ninety; but you are like your wife&mdash;you must go to an agent. What!
+      don't you know that an agent is a man acting for you with an interest
+      opposed to yours? Employing an agent! it is like a Trojan seeking the aid
+      of a Greek. You needn't cry, Mrs. Staines; your husband has been let in
+      deeper than you have. Now, you are young people beginning life; I'll give
+      you a piece of advice. Employ others to do what you can't do, and it must
+      be done; but never to do anything you can do better for yourselves! Agent!
+      The word is derived from a Latin word 'agere,' to do; and agents act up to
+      their etymology, for they invariably DO the nincompoop that employs them,
+      or deals with them, in any mortal way. I'd have got you that beastly
+      little Bijou for ninety pounds a year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Uncle Philip went away crusty, leaving the young couple finely mortified
+      and discouraged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That did not last very long. Christopher noted the experience and Uncle
+      Phil's wisdom in his diary, and then took his wife on his knee, and
+      comforted her, and said, &ldquo;Never mind; experience is worth money, and it
+      always has to be bought. Those who cheat us will die poorer than we shall,
+      if we are honest and economical. I have observed that people are seldom
+      ruined by the vices of others; these may hurt them, of course; but it is
+      only their own faults and follies that can destroy them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Christie,&rdquo; said Rosa, &ldquo;you are a man! Oh, the comfort of being
+      married to A MAN. A man sees the best side. I do adore men. Dearest, I
+      will waste no more of your money. I will go to no more sales.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher saw she was deeply mortified, and he said, quietly, &ldquo;On the
+      contrary, you will go to the very next. Only take Uncle Philip's advice,
+      employ no broker; and watch the prices things fetch when you are not
+      bidding; and keep cool.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She caressed his ears with both her white hands, and thanked him for
+      giving her another trial. So that trouble melted in the sunshine of
+      conjugal love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Notwithstanding the agent's solemn assurance, the Bijou was out of repair.
+      Dr. Staines detected internal odors, as well as those that flowed in from
+      the mews. He was not the man to let his wife perish by miasma; so he had
+      the drains all up, and actually found brick drains, and a cesspool. He
+      stopped that up, and laid down new pipe drains, with a good fall, and
+      properly trapped. The old drains were hidden, after the manner of
+      builders. He had the whole course of his new drains marked upon all the
+      floors they passed under, and had several stones and boards hinged to
+      facilitate examination at any period.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But all this, with the necessary cleaning, whitewashing, painting, and
+      papering, ran away with money. Then came Rosa's purchases, which, to her
+      amazement, amounted to one hundred and ninety pounds, and not a carpet,
+      curtain, or bed amongst the lot. Then there was the carriage home from the
+      auction-room, an expense one avoids by buying at a shop, and the broker
+      claimed his shilling in the pound. This, however, Staines refused. The man
+      came and blustered. Rosa, who was there, trembled. Then, for the first
+      time, she saw her husband's brow lower; he seemed transfigured, and looked
+      terrible. &ldquo;You scoundrel,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;you set another villain like yourself
+      to bid against you, and you betrayed the innocent lady that employed you.
+      I could indict you and your confederate for a conspiracy. I take the goods
+      out of respect for my wife's credit, but you shall gain nothing by
+      swindling her. Be off, you heartless miscreant, or I'll&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll take the law, if you do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take it, then! I'll give you something to howl for;&rdquo; and he seized him
+      with a grasp so tremendous that the fellow cried out in dismay, &ldquo;Oh! don't
+      hit me, sir; pray don't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On this abject appeal, Staines tore the door open with his left hand, and
+      spun the broker out into the passage with his right. Two movements of this
+      angry Hercules, and the man was literally whirled out of sight with a
+      rapidity and swiftness almost ludicrous; it was like a trick in a
+      pantomime. A clatter on the stairs betrayed that he had gone down the
+      first few steps in a wholesale and irregular manner, though he had just
+      managed to keep his feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for Staines, he stood there still lowering like thunder, and his eyes
+      like hot coals; but his wife threw her tender arms around him, and begged
+      him consolingly not to mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was trembling like an aspen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear me,&rdquo; said Christopher, with a ludicrous change to marked politeness
+      and respect, &ldquo;I forgot YOU, in my righteous indignation.&rdquo; Next he became
+      uxorious. &ldquo;Did they frighten her, a duck? Sit on my knee, darling, and
+      pull my hair, for not being more considerate&mdash;there! there!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was followed by the whole absurd soothing process, as practised by
+      manly husbands upon quivering and somewhat hysterical wives, and ended
+      with a formal apology. &ldquo;You must not think that I am passionate; on the
+      contrary, I am always practising self-government. My maxim is, Animum rege
+      qui nisi paret imperat, and that means, Make your temper your servant, or
+      else it will be your master. But to ill-use my dear little wife&mdash;it
+      is unnatural, it is monstrous, it makes my blood boil.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear! don't go into another. It is all over. I can't bear to see you
+      in a passion; you are so terrible, so beautiful. Ah! they are fine things,
+      courage and strength. There's nothing I admire so much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, they are as common as dirt. What I admire is modesty, timidity,
+      sweetness; the sensitive cheek that pales or blushes at a word, the bosom
+      that quivers, and clings to a fellow whenever anything goes wrong.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that is what you admire, is it?&rdquo; said Rosa dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Admire it?&rdquo; said Christopher, not seeing the trap; &ldquo;I adore it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, Christie, dear, you are a Simpleton, that is all. And we are made
+      for one another.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The house was to be furnished and occupied as soon as possible; so Mrs.
+      Staines and Mrs. Cole went to another sale-room. Mrs. Staines remembered
+      all Uncle Philip had said, and went plainly dressed; but her friend
+      declined to sacrifice her showy dress to her friend's interests. Rosa
+      thought that a little unkind, but said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this auction-room they easily got a place at the table, but did not
+      find it heaven; for a number of secondhand carpets were in the sale, and
+      these, brimful of dust, were all shown on the table, and the dirt choked,
+      and poisoned our fair friends. Brokers pestered them, until at last Rosa,
+      smarting under her late exposure, addressed the auctioneer quietly, in her
+      silvery tones: &ldquo;Sir, these gentlemen are annoying me by forcing their
+      services on me. I do not intend to buy at all unless I can be allowed to
+      bid for myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When Rosa, blushing and amazed at her own boldness, uttered these words,
+      she little foresaw their effect. She had touched a popular sore.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are quite right, madam,&rdquo; said a respectable tradesman opposite her.
+      &ldquo;What business have these dirty fellows, without a shilling in their
+      pockets, to go and force themselves on a lady against her will?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has been complained of in the papers again and again,&rdquo; said another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! mayn't we live as well as you?&rdquo; retorted a broker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but not to force yourself on a lady. Why, she'd give you in charge
+      of the police if you tried it on outside.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then there was a downright clamor of discussion and chaff.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently up rises very slowly a countryman so colossal, that it seemed as
+      if he would never have done getting up, and gives his experiences. He
+      informed the company, in a broad Yorkshire dialect, that he did a bit in
+      furniture, and at first starting these brokers buzzed about him like
+      flies, and pestered him. &ldquo;Aah damned 'em pretty hard,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;but they
+      didn't heed any. So then ah spoke 'em civil, and ah said, 'Well, lads, I
+      dinna come fra Yorkshire to sit like a dummy and let you buy wi' my brass;
+      the first that pesters me again ah'll just fell him on t' plaace, like a
+      caulf, and ah'm not very sure he'll get up again in a hurry.' So they
+      dropped me like a hot potato; never pestered me again. But if they won't
+      give over pestering you, mistress, ah'll come round and just stand behind
+      your chair, and bring nieve with me,&rdquo; showing a fist like a leg of mutton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; said the auctioneer, &ldquo;that will not do. I will have no
+      disturbance here. Call the policeman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While the clerk went to the door for the bobby, a gentleman reminded the
+      auctioneer that the journals had repeatedly drawn attention to the
+      nuisance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fault of the public, not mine, sir. Policeman, stand behind that lady's
+      chair, and if anybody annoys her put him quietly into the street.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This auction-room will be to let soon,&rdquo; said a voice at the end of the
+      table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This auction-room,&rdquo; said the auctioneer, master of the gay or grave at a
+      moment's notice, &ldquo;is supported by the public and the trade; it is not
+      supported by paupers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A Jew upholsterer put in his word. &ldquo;I do my own business; but I like to
+      let a poor man live.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jonathan,&rdquo; said the auctioneer to one of his servants, &ldquo;after this sale
+      you may put up the shutters; we have gone and offended Mr. Jacobs. He
+      keeps a shop in Blind Alley, Whitechapel. Now then, lot 69.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa bid timidly for one or two lots, and bought them cheap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The auctioneer kept looking her way, and she had only to nod.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The obnoxious broker got opposite her, and ran her up a little out of
+      spite; but as he had only got half a crown about him, and no means of
+      doubling it, he dared not go far.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the other side of the table was a figure to which Rosa's eyes often
+      turned with interest&mdash;a fair young boy about twelve years old; he had
+      golden hair, and was in deep mourning. His appearance interested Rosa, and
+      she wondered how he came there, and why; he looked like a lamb wedged in
+      among wolves, a flower among weeds. As the lots proceeded, the boy seemed
+      to get uneasy; and at last, when lot '73 was put up, anybody could see in
+      his poor little face that he was there to bid for it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lot '73, an armchair covered in morocco. An excellent and useful article.
+      Should not be at all surprised if it was made by Gillow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gillow would though,&rdquo; said Jacobs, who owed him a turn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chorus of dealers.&mdash;&ldquo;Haw! haw!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The auctioneer.&mdash;&ldquo;I like to hear some people run a lot down; shows
+      they are going to bid for it in earnest. Well, name your own price. Five
+      pounds to begin?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now if nobody had spoken the auctioneer would have gone on, &ldquo;Well, four
+      pounds then&mdash;three, two, whatever you like,&rdquo; and at last obtained a
+      bona fide offer of thirty shillings; but the moment he said &ldquo;Five pounds
+      to begin,&rdquo; the boy in black lifted up his childish treble and bid thus,
+      &ldquo;Five pound ten&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;six pounds&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;six pound ten&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;seven
+      pounds&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;seven pound ten&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;eight pounds&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;eight pound
+      ten&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;nine pounds&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;nine pound ten&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;ten pounds!&rdquo;
+       without interruption, and indeed almost in a breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a momentary pause of amazement, and then an outburst of chaff.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nice little boy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't he say his lesson well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Favor us with your card, sir. You are a gent as knows how to buy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did he stop for? If it's worth ten, it is worth a hundred.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bless the child!&rdquo; said a female dealer, kindly, &ldquo;what made you go on like
+      that? Why, there was no one bid against you! you'd have got it for two
+      pounds&mdash;a rickety old thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Young master began to whimper. &ldquo;Why, the gentleman said, 'Five pounds to
+      BEGIN.' It was the chair poor grandpapa always sat in, and all the things
+      are sold, and mamma said it would break her heart to lose it. She was too
+      ill to come, so she sent me. She told me I was not to let it be sold away
+      from us for less than ten pounds, or she sh&mdash;should be m&mdash;m&mdash;miserable,&rdquo;
+       and the poor little fellow began to cry. Rosa followed suit promptly but
+      unobtrusively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sentiment always costs money,&rdquo; said Mr. Jacobs, gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know?&rdquo; asked Mr. Cohen. &ldquo;Have YOU got any on hand? I never
+      seen none at your shop.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Some tempting things now came up, and Mrs. Staines bid freely; but all of
+      a sudden she looked down the table, and there was Uncle Philip, twinkling
+      as before. &ldquo;Oh, dear! what am I doing now!&rdquo; thought she. &ldquo;I have got no
+      broker.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She bid on, but in fear and trembling, because of those twinkling eyes. At
+      last she mustered courage, wrote on a leaf of her pocket-book, and passed
+      it down to him: &ldquo;It would be only kind to warn me. What am I doing wrong?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He sent her back a line directly: &ldquo;Auctioneer running you up himself.
+      Follow his eye when he bids; you will see there is no bona fide bidder at
+      your prices.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa did so, and found that it was true.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She nodded to Uncle Philip; and, with her expressive face, asked him what
+      she should do.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old boy must have his joke. So he wrote back: &ldquo;Tell him, as you see he
+      has a fancy for certain articles, you would not be so discourteous as to
+      bid against him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The next article but one was a drawing-room suite Rosa wanted; but the
+      auctioneer bid against her; so at eighteen pounds she stopped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is against you, madam,&rdquo; said the auctioneer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; said Rosa; &ldquo;but as you are the only bidder, and you have been
+      so kind to me, I would not think of opposing you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The words were scarcely out of her mouth, when they were greeted with a
+      roar of Homeric laughter that literally shook the room, and this time not
+      at the expense of the innocent speaker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's into your mutton, governor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sharp's the word this time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say, governor, don't you want a broker to bid for ye?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wink at me next time, sir; I'll do the office for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No greenhorns left now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That lady won't give a ten-pund note for her grandfather's armchair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, she will, if it's stuffed with banknotes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Put the next lot up with the owner's name and the reserve price. Open
+      business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And sing a psalm at starting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A little less noise in Judaea, if you please,&rdquo; said the auctioneer, who
+      had now recovered from the blow. &ldquo;Lot 97.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was a very pretty marqueterie cabinet; it stood against the wall, and
+      Rosa had set her heart upon it. Nobody would bid. She had muzzled the
+      auctioneer effectually.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your own price.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Two pounds,&rdquo; said Rosa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A dealer offered guineas; and it advanced slowly to four pounds and half a
+      crown, at which it was about to be knocked down to Rosa, when suddenly a
+      new bidder arose in the broker Rosa had rejected. They bid slowly and
+      sturdily against each other, until a line was given to Rosa from Uncle
+      Philip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This time it is your own friend, the snipe-nosed woman. She telegraphed a
+      broker.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa read, and crushed the note. &ldquo;Six guineas,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Six-ten.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Seven.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Seven-ten.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eight-ten.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ten guineas,&rdquo; said Rosa; and then, with feminine cunning, stealing a
+      sudden glance, caught her friend leaning back and signalling the broker
+      not to give in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eleven pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Twelve.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thirteen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fourteen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sixteen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eighteen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Twenty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Twenty guineas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is yours, my faithful friend,&rdquo; said Rosa, turning suddenly round to
+      Mrs. Cole, with a magnificent glance no one would have thought her capable
+      of.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she rose and stalked away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dumfounded for the moment, Mrs. Cole followed her, and stopped her at the
+      door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Rosie dear, it is the only thing I have bid for. There I've sat by
+      your side like a mouse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa turned gravely towards her. &ldquo;You know it is not that. You had only to
+      tell me you wanted it. I would never have been so mean as to bid against
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mean, indeed!&rdquo; said. Florence, tossing her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, mean; to draw back and hide behind the friend you were with, and
+      employ the very rogue she had turned off. But it is my own fault. Cecilia
+      warned me against you. She always said you were a treacherous girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I say you are an impudent little minx. Only just married, and going
+      about like two vagabonds, and talk to me like that!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are not going about like two vagabonds. We have taken a house in
+      Mayfair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say a stable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was by your advice, you false-hearted creature.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a fool.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are worse; you are a traitress.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then don't you have anything to do with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heaven forbid I should, you treacherous thing!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You insolent&mdash;insolent&mdash;I hate you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I despise you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I always hated you at bottom.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's why you pretended to love me, you wretch.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I pretend no more. I am your enemy for life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you. You have told the truth for once in your life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have. And he shall never call in your husband; so you may leave Mayfair
+      as soon as you like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not to please you, madam. We can get on without traitors.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And so they parted, with eyes that gleamed like tigers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa drove home in great agitation, and tried to tell Christopher; but
+      choked, and became hysterical. The husband-physician coaxed and scolded
+      her out of that; and presently in came Uncle Philip, full of the humors of
+      the auction-room. He told about the little boy with a delight that
+      disgusted Mrs. Staines, and then was particularly merry on female
+      friendships. &ldquo;Fancy a man going to a sale with his friend, and bidding
+      against him on the sly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is no friend of mine. We are enemies for life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you were to be friends till death,&rdquo; said Staines, with a sigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Philip inquired who she was.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. John Cole.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not of Curzon Street?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you have quarrelled with her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but her husband is a general practitioner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is a traitress.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But her husband could put a good deal of money in Christopher's way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't help it. She is a traitress.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you have quarrelled with her about an old wardrobe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, for her disloyalty, and her base good-for-nothingness. Oh! oh! oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Uncle Philip got up, looking sour. &ldquo;Good afternoon, Mrs. Christopher,&rdquo;
+       said he, very dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher accompanied him to the foot of the stairs. &ldquo;Well,
+      Christopher,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;matrimony is a blunder at the best; and you have
+      not done the thing by halves. You have married a simpleton. She will be
+      your ruin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncle Philip, since you only come here to insult us, I hope in future you
+      will stay at home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! with pleasure, sir. Good-by!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Christopher Staines came back, looking pained and disturbed. &ldquo;There,&rdquo; said
+      he, &ldquo;I feared it would come to this. I have quarrelled with Uncle Philip.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! how could you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He affronted me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never you mind. Don't let us say anything more about it, darling. It is a
+      pity, a sad pity&mdash;he was a good friend of mine once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused, entered what had passed in his diary, and then sat down, with a
+      gentle expression of sadness on his manly features. Rosa hung about him,
+      soft and pitying, till it cleared away, at all events for the time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day they went together to clear the goods Rosa had purchased. Whilst
+      the list was being made out in the office, in came the fair-haired boy,
+      with a ten-pound note in his very hand. Rosa caught sight of it, and
+      turned to the auctioneer, with a sweet, pitying face:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! sir, surely you will not take all that money from him, poor child,
+      for a rickety old chair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The auctioneer stared with amazement at her simplicity, and said, &ldquo;What
+      would the vendors say to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked distressed, and said, &ldquo;Well, then, really we ought to raise a
+      subscription, poor thing!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, ma'am,&rdquo; said the auctioneer, &ldquo;he isn't hurt: the article belonged to
+      his mother and her sister; the brother-in-law isn't on good terms; so he
+      demanded a public sale. She will get back four pun ten out of it.&rdquo; Here
+      the clerk put in his word. &ldquo;And there's five pounds paid, I forgot to tell
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! left a deposit, did he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir. But the laughing hyena gave you five pounds at the end of the
+      sale.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The laughing hyena, Mr. Jones?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! beg pardon; that is what we call him in the room. He has got such a
+      curious laugh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! I know the gent. He is a retired doctor. I wish he'd laugh less and
+      buy more: and HE gave you five pounds towards the young gentleman's
+      arm-chair! Well, I should as soon have expected blood from a flint. You
+      have got five pounds to pay, sir: so now the chair will cost your mamma
+      ten shillings. Give him the order and the change, Mr. Jones.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher and Rosa talked this over in the room whilst the men were
+      looking out their purchases. &ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said Rosa; &ldquo;now I forgive him
+      sneering at me; his heart is not really hard, you see.&rdquo; Staines, on the
+      contrary, was very angry. &ldquo;What!&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;pity a boy who made one bad
+      bargain, that, after all, was not a very bad bargain; and he had no
+      kindness, nor even common humanity, for my beautiful Rosa, inexperienced
+      as a child, and buying for her husband, like a good, affectionate, honest
+      creature, amongst a lot of sharpers and hard-hearted cynics&mdash;like
+      himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It WAS cruel of him,&rdquo; said Rosa, altering her mind in a moment, and half
+      inclined to cry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This made Christopher furious. &ldquo;The ill-natured, crotchety, old&mdash;the
+      fact is, he is a misogynist.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, the wretch!&rdquo; said Rosa warmly. &ldquo;And what is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A woman-hater.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! is that all? Why, so do I&mdash;after that Florence Cole. Women are
+      mean, heartless things. Give me men; they are loyal and true.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All of them?&rdquo; inquired Christopher, a little satirically. &ldquo;Read the
+      papers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every soul of them,&rdquo; said Mrs. Staines, passing loftily over the proposed
+      test. &ldquo;That is, all the ones I care about; and that is my own, own one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Disagreeable creatures to have about one&mdash;these simpletons!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Staines took Christopher to shops to buy the remaining requisites:
+      and in three days more the house was furnished, two female servants
+      engaged, and the couple took their luggage over to the Bijou.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa was excited and happy at the novelty of possession and authority, and
+      that close sense of house proprietorship which belongs to woman. By
+      dinner-time she could have told you how many shelves there were in every
+      cupboard, and knew the Bijou by heart in a way that Christopher never knew
+      it. All this ended, as running about and excitement generally does, with
+      my lady being exhausted, and lax with fatigue. So then he made her lie
+      down on a little couch, while he went through his accounts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he had examined all the bills carefully he looked very grave, and
+      said, &ldquo;Who would believe this? We began with three thousand pounds. It was
+      to last us several years&mdash;till I got a good practice. Rosa, there is
+      only fourteen hundred and forty pounds left.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, impossible!&rdquo; said Rosa. &ldquo;Oh, dear! why did I ever enter a saleroom?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, my darling; you were bitten once or twice, but you made some good
+      bargains too. Remember there was four hundred pounds set apart for my life
+      policy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a waste of money!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your father did not think so. Then the lease; the premium; repairs of the
+      drains that would have poisoned my Rosa; turning the coach-house into a
+      dispensary; painting, papering, and furnishing; china, and linen, and
+      everything to buy. We must look at this seriously. Only fourteen hundred
+      and forty pounds left. A slow profession. No friends. I have quarrelled
+      with Uncle Philip: you with Mrs. Cole; and her husband would have launched
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And it was to please her we settled here. Oh, I could kill her: nasty
+      cat!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind; it is not a case for despondency, but it is for prudence. All
+      we have to do is to look the thing in the face, and be very economical in
+      everything. I had better give you an allowance for housekeeping; and I
+      earnestly beg you to buy things yourself whilst you are a poor man's wife,
+      and pay ready money for everything. My mother was a great manager, and she
+      always said, 'There is but one way: be your own market-woman, and pay on
+      the spot; never let the tradesmen get you on their books, or, what with
+      false weight, double charges, and the things your servants order that
+      never enter the house, you lose more than a hundred a year by cheating.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa yielded a languid assent to this part of his discourse, and it hardly
+      seemed to enter her mind; but she raised no objection; and in due course
+      he made her a special allowance for housekeeping.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It soon transpired that medical advice was to be had, gratis, at the
+      Bijou, from eight till ten: and there was generally a good attendance. But
+      a week passed, and not one patient came of the class this couple must live
+      by. Christopher set this down to what people call &ldquo;the transition period:&rdquo;
+       his Kent patients had lost him; his London patients not found him. He
+      wrote to all his patients in the country, and many of his pupils at the
+      university, to let them know where he was settled: and then he waited.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not a creature came.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa bore this very well for a time, so long as the house was a novelty;
+      but when that excitement was worn out, she began to be very dull, and used
+      to come and entice him out to walk with her: he would look wistfully at
+      her, but object that, if he left the house, he should be sure to lose a
+      patient.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, they won't come any more for our staying in&mdash;tiresome things!&rdquo;
+       said Rosa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Christopher would kiss her, and remain firm. &ldquo;My love,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;you
+      do not realize how hard a fight there is before us. How should you? You
+      are very young. No, for your sake, I must not throw a chance away. Write
+      to your female friends: that will while away an hour or two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, after that Florence Cole?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Write to those who have not made such violent professions.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I will, dear. Especially to those that are married and come to London.
+      Oh, and I'll write to that cold-blooded thing, Lady Cicely Treherne. Why
+      do you shake your head?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did I? I was not aware. Well, dear, if ladies of rank were to come here,
+      I fear they might make you discontented with your lot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the women on earth could not do that. However, the chances are she
+      will not come near me: she left the school quite a big girl, an immense
+      girl, when I was only twelve. She used to smile at my capriccios; and once
+      she kissed me&mdash;actually. She was an awful Sawny, though, and so
+      affected: I think I will write to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      These letters brought just one lady, a Mrs. Turner, who talked to Rosa
+      very glibly about herself, and amused Rosa twice: at the third visit, Rosa
+      tried to change the conversation. Mrs. Turner instantly got up, and went
+      away. She could not bear the sound of the human voice, unless it was
+      talking about her and her affairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now Staines began to feel downright uneasy. Income was going steadily
+      out: not a shilling coming in. The lame, the blind, and the sick
+      frequented his dispensary, and got his skill out of him gratis, and
+      sometimes a little physic, a little wine, and other things that cost him
+      money: but of the patients that pay, not one came to his front door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He walked round and round his little yard, like a hyena in its cage,
+      waiting, waiting, waiting: and oh! how he envied the lot of those who can
+      hunt for work, instead of having to stay at home and wait for others to
+      come, whose will they cannot influence. His heart began to sicken with
+      hope deferred, and dim forebodings of the future; and he saw, with grief,
+      that his wife was getting duller and duller, and that her days dragged
+      more heavily, far than his own; for he could study.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last his knocker began to show signs of life: his visitors were
+      physicians. His lectures on &ldquo;Diagnosis&rdquo; were well known to them; and one
+      after another found him out. They were polite, kind, even friendly; but
+      here it ended: these gentlemen, of course, did not resign their patients
+      to him; and the inferior class of practitioners avoided his door like a
+      pestilence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Staines, who had always lived for amusement, could strike out no
+      fixed occupation; her time hung like lead; the house was small; and in
+      small houses the faults of servants run against the mistress, and she
+      can't help seeing them, and all the worse for her. It is easier to keep
+      things clean in the country, and Rosa had a high standard, which her two
+      servants could never quite attain. This annoyed her, and she began to
+      scold a little. They answered civilly, but in other respects remained
+      imperfect beings; they laid out every shilling they earned in finery; and,
+      this, I am ashamed to say, irritated Mrs. Staines, who was wearing out her
+      wedding garments, and had no excuse for buying, and Staines had begged her
+      to be economical. The more they dressed, the more she scolded; they began
+      to answer. She gave the cook warning; the other, though not on good terms
+      with the cook, had a gush of esprit de corps directly, and gave Mrs.
+      Staines warning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Staines told her husband all this: he took her part, though without
+      openly interfering; and they had two new servants, not so good as the
+      last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This worried Rosa sadly; but it was a flea-bite to the deeper nature, and
+      more forecasting mind of her husband, still doomed to pace that miserable
+      yard, like a hyena, chafing, seeking, longing for the patient that never
+      came.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa used to look out of his dressing-room window, and see him pace the
+      yard. At first, tears of pity stood in her eyes. By and by she got angry
+      with the world; and at last, strange to say, a little irritated with him.
+      It is hard for a weak woman to keep up all her respect for the man that
+      fails.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day, after watching him a long time unseen, she got excited, put on
+      her shawl and bonnet, and ran down to him: she took him by the arm: &ldquo;If
+      you love me, come out of this prison, and walk with me; we are too
+      miserable. I shall be your first patient if this goes on much longer.&rdquo; He
+      looked at her, saw she was very excited, and had better be humored; so he
+      kissed her and just said, with a melancholy smile, &ldquo;How poor are they that
+      have not patience!&rdquo; Then he put on his hat, and walked in the Park and
+      Kensington Gardens with her. The season was just beginning. There were
+      carriages enough, and gay Amazons enough, to make poor Rosa sigh more than
+      once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher heard the sigh; and pressed her arm, and said, &ldquo;Courage, love,
+      I hope to see you among them yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The sooner the better,&rdquo; said she, a little hardly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And, meantime, which of them all is as beautiful as you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All I know is, they are more attractive. Who looks at me, walking tamely
+      by?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher said nothing: but these words seemed to imply a thirst for
+      admiration, and made him a little uneasy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By and by the walk put the swift-changing Rosa in spirits, and she began
+      to chat gayly, and hung prattling and beaming on her husband's arm, when
+      they entered Curzon Street. Here, however, occurred an incident, trifling
+      in itself, but unpleasant. Dr. Staines saw one of his best Kentish
+      patients get feebly out of his carriage, and call on Dr. Barr. He started,
+      and stopped. Rosa asked what was the matter. He told her. She said, &ldquo;We
+      ARE unfortunate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines said nothing; he only quickened his pace; but he was greatly
+      disturbed. She expected him to complain that she had dragged him out, and
+      lost him that first chance. But he said nothing. When they got home, he
+      asked the servant had anybody called.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely you are mistaken, Jane. A gentleman in a carriage!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a creature have been since you went out, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, dearest,&rdquo; said he sweetly, &ldquo;we have nothing to reproach
+      ourselves with.&rdquo; Then he knit his brow gloomily. &ldquo;It is worse than I
+      thought. It seems even one's country patients go to another doctor when
+      they visit London. It is hard. It is hard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa leaned her head on his shoulder, and curled round him, as one she
+      would shield against the world's injustice; but she said nothing; she was
+      a little frightened at his eye that lowered, and his noble frame that
+      trembled a little, with ire suppressed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Two days after this, a brougham drove up to the door, and a tallish,
+      fattish, pasty-faced man got out, and inquired for Dr. Staines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was shown into the dining-room, and told Jane he had come to consult
+      the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa had peeped over the stairs, all curiosity; she glided noiselessly
+      down, and with love's swift foot got into the yard before Jane. &ldquo;He is
+      come! he is come! Kiss me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines kissed her first, and then asked who was come.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nobody of any consequence. ONLY the first patient. Kiss me again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines kissed her again, and then was for going to the first patient.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;not yet. I met a doctor's wife at Dr. Mayne's, and she
+      told me things. You must always keep them waiting; or else they think
+      nothing of you. Such a funny woman! 'Treat 'em like dogs, my dear,' she
+      said. But I told her they wouldn't come to be treated like dogs or any
+      other animal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had better have kept that to yourself, I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! if you are going to be disagreeable, good-by. You can go to your
+      patient, sir. Christie, dear, if he is very&mdash;very ill&mdash;and I'm
+      sure I hope he is&mdash;oh, how wicked I am; may I have a new bonnet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you really want one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On the patient's card was &ldquo;Mr. Pettigrew, 47 Manchester Square.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As soon as Staines entered the room, the first patient told him who and
+      what he was, a retired civilian from India; but he had got a son there
+      still, a very rising man; wanted to be a parson; but he would not stand
+      that; bad profession; don't rise by merit; very hard to rise at all;&mdash;no,
+      India was the place. &ldquo;As for me, I made my fortune there in ten years.
+      Obliged to leave it now&mdash;invalid this many years; no TONE. Tried two
+      or three doctors in this neighborhood; heard there was a new one, had
+      written a book on something. Thought I would try HIM.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To stop him, Staines requested to feel his pulse, and examine his tongue
+      and eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are suffering from indigestion,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I will write you a
+      prescription; but if you want to get well, you must simplify your diet
+      very much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While he was writing the prescription, off went this patient's tongue, and
+      ran through the topics of the day and into his family history again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines listened politely. He could afford it, having only this one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, the first patient, having delivered an octavo volume of nothing,
+      rose to go; but it seems that speaking an &ldquo;infinite deal of nothing&rdquo;
+       exhausts the body, though it does not affect the mind; for the first
+      patient sank down in his chair again. &ldquo;I have excited myself too much&mdash;feel
+      rather faint.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines saw no signs of coming syncope; he rang the bell quietly, and
+      ordered a decanter of sherry to be brought; the first patient filled
+      himself a glass; then another; and went off, revived, to chatter
+      elsewhere. But at the door he said, &ldquo;I had always a running account with
+      Dr. Mivar. I suppose you don't object to that system. Double fee the first
+      visit, single afterwards.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines bowed a little stiffly; he would have preferred the money.
+      However, he looked at the Blue Book, and found his visitor lived at 47
+      Manchester Square; so that removed his anxiety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The first patient called every other day, chattered nineteen to the dozen,
+      was exhausted, drank two glasses of sherry, and drove away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon after this a second patient called. This one was a deputy patient&mdash;Collett,
+      a retired butler&mdash;kept a lodging-house, and waited at parties; he
+      lived close by, but had a married daughter in Chelsea. Would the doctor
+      visit her, and HE would be responsible?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines paid the woman a visit or two, and treated her so effectually,
+      that soon her visits were paid to him. She was cured, and Staines, who by
+      this time wanted to see money, sent to Collett.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Collett did not answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines wrote warmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Collett dead silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines employed a solicitor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Collett said he had recommended the patient, that was all. He had never
+      said he would pay her debts. That was her husband's business.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now her husband was the mate of a ship; would not be in England for
+      eighteen months.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman, visited by lawyer's clerk, cried bitterly, and said she and her
+      children had scarcely enough to eat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lawyer advised Staines to abandon the case, and pay him two pounds fifteen
+      shillings expenses. He did so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is damnable,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I must get it out of Pettigrew; by-the-by,
+      he has not been here this two days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He waited another day for Pettigrew, and then wrote to him. No answer.
+      Called. Pettigrew gone abroad. House in Manchester Square to let.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines went to the house-agent with his tale. Agent was impenetrable at
+      first; but, at last, won by the doctor's manner and his unhappiness,
+      referred him to Pettigrew's solicitor; the solicitor was a respectable
+      man, and said he would forward the claim to Pettigrew in Paris.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But by this time Pettigrew was chattering and guzzling in Berlin; and
+      thence he got to St. Petersburg. In that stronghold of gluttony, he
+      gormandized more than ever, and, being unable to talk it off his stomach,
+      as in other cities, had apoplexy, and died.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But long before this Staines saw his money was as irrecoverable as his
+      sherry; and he said to Rosa, &ldquo;I wonder whether I shall ever live to curse
+      the human race?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heaven forbid!&rdquo; said Rosa. &ldquo;Oh, they use you cruelly, my poor, poor
+      Christie!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus for months the young doctor's patients bled him, and that was all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Rosa got more and more moped at being in the house so much, and
+      pestered Christopher to take her out, and he declined: and, being a man
+      hard to beat, took to writing on medical subjects, in hopes of getting
+      some money from the various medical and scientific publications; but he
+      found it as hard to get the wedge in there as to get patients.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last Rosa's remonstrances began to rise into something that sounded
+      like reproaches. One Sunday she came to him in her bonnet, and interrupted
+      his studies, to say he might as well lay down the pen, and talk. Nobody
+      would publish anything he wrote.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher frowned, but contained himself, and laid down the pen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I might as well not be married at all as be a doctor's wife. You are
+      never seen out with me, not even to church. Do behave like a Christian,
+      and come to church with me now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, I wouldn't miss church for all the world. Any excitement is better
+      than always moping. Come over the water with me. The time Jane and I went,
+      the clergyman read a paper that Mr. Brown had fallen down in a fit. There
+      was such a rush directly, and I'm sure fifty ladies went out&mdash;fancy,
+      all Mrs. Browns! Wasn't that fun?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fun? I don't see it. Well, Rosa, your mind is evidently better adapted to
+      diversion than mine is. Go you to church, love, and I'll continue my
+      studies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then all I can say is, I wish I was back in my father's house. Husband!
+      friend! companion!&mdash;I have none.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she burst out crying violently; and, being shocked at what she had
+      said, and at the agony it had brought into her husband's face, she went
+      off into hysterics; and as his heart would not let him bellow at her, or
+      empty a bucket on her as he would on another patient, she had a good long
+      bout of them: and got her way, for she broke up his studies for that day,
+      at all events.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Even after the hysterics were got under, she continued to moan and sigh
+      very prettily, with her lovely, languid head pillowed on her husband's
+      arm; in a word, though the hysterics were real, yet this innocent young
+      person had the presence of mind to postpone entire convalescence, and lay
+      herself out to be petted all day. But fate willed it otherwise: while she
+      was sighing and moaning, came to the door a scurrying of feet, and then a
+      sharp, persistent ringing that meant something. The moaner cocked eye and
+      ear, and said, in her every-day voice, which, coming so suddenly, sounded
+      very droll, &ldquo;What is that, I wonder?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jane hurried to the street-door, and Rosa recovered by magic; and,
+      preferring gossip to hysterics, in an almost gleeful whisper, ordered
+      Christopher to open the door of the study. The Bijou was so small that the
+      following dialogue rang in their ears:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A boy in buttons gasped out, &ldquo;Oh, if you please, will you ast the doctor
+      to come round directly; there's a haccident.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La, bless me!&rdquo; said Jane, and never budged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, miss. It's our missus's little girl fallen right off an i-chair, and
+      cut her head dreadful, and smothered in blood.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La, to be sure!&rdquo; And she waited steadily for more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, and missus she fainted right off; and I've been to the regler doctor,
+      which he's out; and Sarah, the housemaid, said I had better come here; you
+      was only just set up, she said; you wouldn't have so much to do, says
+      she.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is all SHE knows,&rdquo; said Jane. &ldquo;Why, our master&mdash;they pulls him
+      in pieces which is to have him fust.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What an awful liar! Oh, you good girl!&rdquo; whispered Dr. Staines and Rosa in
+      one breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, well,&rdquo; said Buttons, &ldquo;any way, Sarah says she knows you are clever,
+      'cos her little girl as lives with her mother, and calls Sarah aunt, has
+      bin to your 'spensary with ringworm, and you cured her right off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, and a good many more,&rdquo; said Jane, loftily. She was a housemaid of
+      imagination; and while Staines was putting some lint and an instrument
+      case into his pocket, she proceeded to relate a number of miraculous
+      cures. Dr. Staines interrupted them by suddenly emerging, and inviting
+      Buttons to take him to the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Staines was so pleased with Jane for cracking up the doctor, that she
+      gave her five shillings; and, after that, used to talk to her a great deal
+      more than to the cook, which judicious conduct presently set all three by
+      the ears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Buttons took the doctor to a fine house in the same street, and told him
+      his mistress's name on the way&mdash;Mrs. Lucas. He was taken up to the
+      nursery, and found Mrs. Lucas seated, crying and lamenting, and a woman
+      holding a little girl of about seven, whose brow had been cut open by the
+      fender, on which she had fallen from a chair; it looked very ugly, and was
+      even now bleeding.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines lost no time; he examined the wound keenly, and then said
+      kindly to Mrs. Lucas, &ldquo;I am happy to tell you it is not serious.&rdquo; He then
+      asked for a large basin and some tepid water, and bathed it so softly and
+      soothingly that the child soon became composed; and the mother discovered
+      the artist at once. He compressed the wound, and explained to Mrs. Lucas
+      that the principal thing really was to avoid an ugly scar. &ldquo;There is no
+      danger,&rdquo; said he. He then bound the wound neatly up, and had the girl put
+      to bed. &ldquo;You will not wake her at any particular hour, nurse. Let her
+      sleep. Have a little strong beef-tea ready, and give it her at any hour,
+      night or day, she asks for it. But do not force it on her, or you will do
+      her more harm than good. She had better sleep before she eats.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Lucas begged him to come every morning; and, as he was going, she
+      shook hands with him, and the soft palm deposited a hard substance wrapped
+      in paper. He took it with professional gravity and seeming
+      unconsciousness; but, once outside the house, went home on wings. He ran
+      up to the drawing-room, and found his wife seated, and playing at reading.
+      He threw himself on his knees, and the fee into her lap; and, while she
+      unfolded the paper with an ejaculation of pleasure, he said, &ldquo;Darling, the
+      first real patient&mdash;the first real fee. It is yours to buy the new
+      bonnet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I'm so glad!&rdquo; said she, with her eyes glistening. &ldquo;But I'm afraid one
+      can't get a bonnet fit to wear&mdash;for a guinea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines visited his little patient every day, and received his guinea.
+      Mrs. Lucas also called him in for her own little ailments, and they were
+      the best possible kind of ailments: for, being imaginary, there was no
+      limit to them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then did Mrs. Staines turn jealous of her husband. &ldquo;They never ask me,&rdquo;
+       said she; &ldquo;and I am moped to death.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is hard,&rdquo; said Christopher, sadly. &ldquo;But have a little patience.
+      Society will come to you long before practice comes to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      About two o'clock one afternoon a carriage and pair drove up, and a
+      gorgeous footman delivered a card&mdash;&ldquo;Lady Cicely Treherne.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Of course Mrs. Staines was at home, and only withheld by propriety from
+      bounding into the passage to meet her school-fellow. However, she composed
+      herself in the drawing-room, and presently the door was opened, and a very
+      tall young woman, richly but not gayly dressed, drifted into the room, and
+      stood there a statue of composure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa had risen to fly to her; but the reverence a girl of eighteen strikes
+      into a child of twelve hung about her still, and she came timidly forward,
+      blushing and sparkling, a curious contrast in color and mind to her
+      visitor; for Lady Cicely was Languor in person&mdash;her hair
+      whitey-brown, her face a fine oval, but almost colorless; her eyes a pale
+      gray, her neck and hands incomparably white and beautiful&mdash;a
+      lymphatic young lady, a live antidote to emotion. However, Rosa's beauty,
+      timidity, and undisguised affectionateness were something so different
+      from what she was used to in the world of fashion, that she actually
+      smiled, and held out both her hands a little way. Rosa seized them, and
+      pressed them; they left her; and remained passive and limp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O Lady Cicely,&rdquo; said Rosa, &ldquo;how kind of you to come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How kind of you to send to me,&rdquo; was the polite, but perfectly cool reply.
+      &ldquo;But how you are gwown, and&mdash;may I say impwoved?&mdash;You la petite
+      Lusignan! It is incwedible,&rdquo; lisped her ladyship, very calmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was only a child,&rdquo; said Rosa. &ldquo;You were always so beautiful and tall,
+      and kind to a little monkey like me. Oh, pray sit down, Lady Cicely, and
+      talk of old times.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She drew her gently to the sofa, and they sat down hand in hand; but Lady
+      Cicely's high-bred reserve made her a very poor gossip about anything that
+      touched herself and her family; so Rosa, though no egotist, was drawn into
+      talking about herself more than she would have done had she deliberately
+      planned the conversation. But here was an old school-fellow, and a
+      singularly polite listener, and so out came her love, her genuine
+      happiness, her particular griefs, and especially the crowning grievance,
+      no society, moped to death, etc.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Cicely could hardly understand the sentiment in a woman who so
+      evidently loved her husband. &ldquo;Society!&rdquo; said she, after due reflection,
+      &ldquo;why, it is a boa.&rdquo; (And here I may as well explain that Lady Cicely spoke
+      certain words falsely, and others affectedly; and as for the letter r, she
+      could say it if she made a hearty effort, but was generally too lazy to
+      throw her leg over it.) &ldquo;Society! I'm dwenched to death with it. If I
+      could only catch fiah like other women, and love somebody, I would much
+      rather have a tete-a-tete with him than go teawing about all day and all
+      night, from one unintwisting cwowd to another. To be sure,&rdquo; said she,
+      puzzling the matter out, &ldquo;you are a beauty, and would be more looked at.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The idea! and&mdash;oh no! no! it is not that. But even in the country we
+      had always some society.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, dyar, believe me, with your appeawance, you can have as much
+      society as you please; but it will boa you to death, as it does me, and
+      then you will long to be left quiet with a sensible man who loves you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Said Rosa, &ldquo;When shall I have another tete-a-tete with YOU, I wonder? Oh,
+      it has been such a comfort to me. Bless you for coming. There&mdash;I
+      wrote to Cecilia, and Emily, and Mrs. Bosanquet that is now, and all my
+      sworn friends, and to think of you being the one to come&mdash;you that
+      never kissed me but once, and an earl's daughter into the bargain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha! ha! ha!&rdquo;&mdash;Lady Cicely actually laughed for once in a way, and
+      did not feel the effort. &ldquo;As for kissing,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;if I fall shawt,
+      fawgive me. I was nevaa vewy demonstwative.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; and I have had a lesson. That Florence Cole&mdash;Florence Whiting
+      that was, you know&mdash;was always kissing me, and she has turned out a
+      traitor. I'll tell you all about her.&rdquo; And she did.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Cicely thought Mrs. Staines a little too unreserved in her
+      conversation; but was so charmed with her sweetness and freshness that she
+      kept up the acquaintance, and called on her twice a week during the
+      season. At first she wondered that her visits were not returned; but Rosa
+      let out that she was ashamed to call on foot in Grosvenor Square.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Cicely shrugged her beautiful shoulders a little at that; but she
+      continued to do the visiting, and to enjoy the simple, innocent rapture
+      with which she was received.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This lady's pronunciation of many words was false or affected. She said
+      &ldquo;good murning&rdquo; for &ldquo;good morning,&rdquo; and turned other vowels to diphthongs,
+      and played two or three pranks with her &ldquo;r's.&rdquo; But we cannot be all
+      imperfection: with her pronunciation her folly came to a full stop. I
+      really believe she lisped less nonsense and bad taste in a year than some
+      of us articulate in a day. To be sure, folly is generally uttered in a
+      hurry, and she was too deplorably lazy to speak fast on any occasion
+      whatever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day Mrs. Staines took her up-stairs, and showed her from the back
+      window her husband pacing the yard, waiting for patients. Lady Cicely
+      folded her arms, and contemplated him at first with a sort of zoological
+      curiosity. Gentleman pacing back yard, like hyena, she had never seen
+      before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last she opened her mouth in a whisper, &ldquo;What is he doing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Waiting for patients.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Waiting&mdash;for&mdash;patients?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For patients that never come, and never will come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cuwious! How little I know of life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is that all day, dear, or else writing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Cicely, with her eyes fixed on Staines, made a motion with her hand
+      that she was attending.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And they won't publish a word he writes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor man!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nice for me; is it not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I begin to understand,&rdquo; said Lady Cicely quietly; and soon after retired
+      with her invariable composure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime, Dr. Staines, like a good husband, had thrown out occasional
+      hints to Mrs. Lucas that he had a wife, beautiful, accomplished, moped.
+      More than that, he went so far as to regret to her that Mrs. Staines,
+      being in a neighborhood new to him, saw so little society; the more so, as
+      she was formed to shine, and had not been used to seclusion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All these hints fell dead on Mrs. Lucas. A handsome and skilful doctor was
+      welcome to her: his wife&mdash;that was quite another matter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But one day Mrs. Lucas saw Lady Cicely Treherne's carriage standing at the
+      door. The style of the whole turnout impressed her. She wondered whose it
+      was.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On another occasion she saw it drive up, and the lady get out. She
+      recognized her; and the very next day this parvenue said adroitly, &ldquo;Now,
+      Dr. Staines, really you can't be allowed to hide your wife in this way.
+      (Staines stared.) Why not introduce her to me next Wednesday? It is my
+      night. I would give a dinner expressly for her; but I don't like to do
+      that while my husband is in Naples.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When Staines carried the invitation to his wife, she was delighted, and
+      kissed him with childish frankness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the very next moment she became thoughtful, uneasy, depressed. &ldquo;Oh,
+      dear; I've nothing to wear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nonsense, Rosa. Your wedding outfit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The idea! I can't go as a bride. It's not a masquerade.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you have other dresses.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All gone by, more or less; or not fit for such parties as SHE gives. A
+      hundred carriages!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bring them down, and let me see them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh yes.&rdquo; And the lady, who had nothing to wear, paraded a very fair show
+      of dresses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines saw something to admire in all of them. Mrs. Staines found more to
+      object to in each.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last he fell upon a silver-gray silk, of superlative quality.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That! It is as old as the hills,&rdquo; shrieked Rosa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It looks just out of the shop. Come, tell the truth; how often have you
+      worn it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wore it before I was married.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, but how often?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Twice. Three times, I believe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought so. It is good as new.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I have had it so long by me. I had it two years before I made it up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does that matter? Do you think the people can tell how long a dress
+      has been lurking in your wardrobe? This is childish, Rosa. There, with
+      this dress as good as new, and your beauty, you will be as much admired,
+      and perhaps hated, as your heart can desire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid not,&rdquo; said Rosa naively. &ldquo;Oh, how I wish I had known a week
+      ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am very thankful you did not,&rdquo; said Staines dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At ten o'clock Mrs. Staines was nearly dressed; at a quarter past ten she
+      demanded ten minutes; at half-past ten she sought a reprieve; at a quarter
+      to eleven, being assured that the street was full of carriages, which had
+      put down at Mrs. Lucas's, she consented to emerge; and in a minute they
+      were at the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were shown first into a cloak-room, and then into a tea-room, and
+      then mounted the stairs. One servant took their names, and bawled them to
+      another four yards off, he to another about as near, and so on; and they
+      edged themselves into the room, not yet too crowded to move in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had not taken many steps, on the chance of finding their hostess,
+      when a slight buzz arose, and seemed to follow them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa wondered what that was; but only for a moment; she observed a tall,
+      stout, aquiline woman fix an eye of bitter, diabolical, malignant hatred
+      on her; and as she advanced, ugly noses were cocked disdainfully, and
+      scraggy shoulders elevated at the risk of sending the bones through the
+      leather, and a titter or two shot after her. A woman's instinct gave her
+      the key at once; the sexes had complimented her at sight; each in their
+      way; the men with respectful admiration; the women, with their inflammable
+      jealousy and ready hatred in another of the quality they value most in
+      themselves. But the country girl was too many for them: she would neither
+      see nor bear, but moved sedately on, and calmly crushed them with her
+      Southern beauty. Their dry, powdered faces could not live by the side of
+      her glowing skin, with nature's delicate gloss upon it, and the rich blood
+      mantling below it. The got-up beauties, i.e., the majority, seemed
+      literally to fade and wither as she passed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Lucas got to her, suppressed a slight maternal pang, having daughters
+      to marry, and took her line in a moment; here was a decoy duck. Mrs. Lucas
+      was all graciousness, made acquaintance, and took a little turn with her,
+      introducing her to one or two persons; among the rest, to the malignant
+      woman, Mrs. Barr. Mrs. Barr, on this, ceased to look daggers and
+      substituted icicles; but on the hateful beauty moving away, dropped the
+      icicles, and resumed the poniards.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The rooms filled; the heat became oppressive, and the mixed odors of
+      flowers, scents, and perspiring humanity, sickening. Some, unable to bear
+      it, trickled out of the room, and sat all down the stairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa began to feel faint. Up came a tall, sprightly girl, whose pertness
+      was redeemed by a certain bonhomie, and said, &ldquo;Mrs. Staines, I believe? I
+      am to make myself agreeable to you. That is the order from headquarters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Lucas,&rdquo; said Staines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She jerked a little off-hand bow to him, and said, &ldquo;Will you trust her to
+      me for five minutes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly.&rdquo; But he did not much like it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Lucas carried her off, and told Dr. Staines, over her shoulder, now
+      he could flirt to his heart's content.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said he dryly. &ldquo;I'll await your return.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, there are some much greater flirts here than I am,&rdquo; said the ready
+      Miss Lucas; and whispering something in Mrs. Staines's ear, suddenly
+      glided with her behind a curtain, pressed a sort of button fixed to a
+      looking-glass door. The door opened, and behold they were in a delicious
+      place, for which I can hardly find a word, since it was a boudoir and a
+      conservatory in one: a large octagon, the walls lined from floor to
+      ceiling with looking-glasses of moderate width, at intervals, and with
+      creepers that covered the intervening spaces of the wall, and were trained
+      so as to break the outline of the glasses without greatly clouding the
+      reflection. Ferns, in great variety, were grouped in a deep crescent, and
+      in the bight of this green bay were a small table and chairs. As there
+      were no hot-house plants, the temperature was very cool, compared with the
+      reeking oven they had escaped; and a little fountain bubbled, and fed a
+      little meandering gutter that trickled away among the ferns; it ran
+      crystal clear over little bright pebbles and shells. It did not always
+      run, you understand; but Miss Lucas turned a secret tap, and started it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, how heavenly!&rdquo; said Rosa, with a sigh of relief; &ldquo;and how good of you
+      to bring me here!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; by rights I ought to have waited till you fainted. But there is no
+      making acquaintance among all those people. Mamma will ask such crowds;
+      one is like a fly in a glue-pot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Lucas had good nature, smartness, and animal spirits; hence arose a
+      vivacity and fluency that were often amusing, and passed for very clever.
+      Reserve she had none; would talk about strangers, or friends, herself, her
+      mother, her God, and the last buffoon-singer, in a breath. At a hint from
+      Rosa, she told her who the lady in the pink dress was, and the lady in the
+      violet velvet, and so on; for each lady was defined by her dress, and,
+      more or less, quizzed by this show-woman, not exactly out of malice, but
+      because it is smarter and more natural to decry than to praise, and a
+      little medisance is the spice to gossip, belongs to it, as mint sauce to
+      lamb. So they chatted away, and were pleased with each other, and made
+      friends, and there, in cool grot, quite forgot the sufferings of their
+      fellow-creatures in the adjacent Turkish bath, yclept society. It was Rosa
+      who first recollected herself. &ldquo;Will not Mrs. Lucas be angry with me, if I
+      keep you all to myself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no; but I'm afraid we must go into the hot-house again. I like the
+      greenhouse best, with such a nice companion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They slipped noiselessly into the throng again, and wriggled about, Miss
+      Lucas presenting her new friend to several ladies and gentlemen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently Staines found them, and then Miss Lucas wriggled away; and in
+      due course the room was thinned by many guests driving off home, or to
+      balls, and other receptions, and Dr. Staines and Mrs. Staines went home to
+      the Bijou. Here the physician prescribed bed; but the lady would not hear
+      of such a thing until she had talked it all over. So they compared notes,
+      and Rosa told him how well she had got on with Miss Lucas, and made a
+      friendship. &ldquo;But for that,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I should be sorry I went among
+      those people, such a dowdy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dowdy!&rdquo; said Staines. &ldquo;Why, you stormed the town; you were the great
+      success of the night, and, for all I know, of the season.&rdquo; The wretch
+      delivered this with unbecoming indifference.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is too bad to mock me, Christie. Where were your eyes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To the best of my recollection, they were one on each side of my nose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but some people are eyes and no eyes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I scorn the imputation; try me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well. Then did you see that lady in sky-blue silk, embroidered with
+      flowers, and flounced with white velvet, and the corsage point lace; and
+      oh, such emeralds?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did; a tall, skinny woman, with eyes resembling her jewels in color,
+      though not in brightness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind her eyes; it is her dress I am speaking of. Exquisite; and
+      what a coiffure! Well, did you see HER in the black velvet, trimmed so
+      deep with Chantilly lace, wave on wave, and her head-dress of crimson
+      flowers, and such a riviere of diamonds; oh, dear! oh, dear!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did, love. The room was an oven, but her rubicund face and suffocating
+      costume made it seem a furnace.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stuff! Well, did you see the lady in the corn-colored silk, and poppies
+      in her hair?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I did. Ceres in person. She made me feel hot, too; but I cooled
+      myself a bit at her pale, sickly face.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind their faces; that is not the point.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, excuse me; it is always a point with us benighted males, all eyes and
+      no eyes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, the lady in white, with cherry-velvet bands, and a white
+      tunic looped with crimson, and headdress of white illusion, a la vierge, I
+      think they call it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was very refreshing; and adapted to that awful atmosphere. It was the
+      nearest approach to nudity I ever saw, even amongst fashionable people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was lovely; and then that superb figure in white illusion and gold,
+      with all those narrow flounces over her slip of white silk glacee, and a
+      wreath of white flowers, with gold wheat ears amongst them, in her hair;
+      and oh! oh! oh! her pearls, oriental, and as big as almonds!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And oh! oh! oh! her nose! reddish, and as long as a woodcock's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Noses! noses! stupid! That is not what strikes you first in a woman
+      dressed like an angel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, if you were to run up against that one, as I nearly did, her nose
+      WOULD be the thing that would strike you first. Nose! it was a rostrum!
+      the spear-head of Goliah.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, don't, Christopher. This is no laughing matter. Do you mean you were
+      not ashamed of your wife? I was.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I was not; you had but one rival; a very young lady, wise before her
+      age; a blonde, with violet eyes. She was dressed in light mauve-colored
+      silk, without a single flounce, or any other tomfoolery to fritter away
+      the sheen and color of an exquisite material; her sunny hair was another
+      wave of color, wreathed with a thin line of white jessamine flowers
+      closely woven, that scented the air. This girl was the moon of that
+      assembly, and you were the sun.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never even saw her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eyes and no eyes. She saw you, and said, 'Oh, what a beautiful creature!'
+      for I heard her. As for the old stagers, whom you admire so, their faces
+      were all clogged with powder, the pores stopped up, the true texture of
+      the skin abolished. They looked downright nasty, whenever you or that
+      young girl passed by them. Then it was you saw to what a frightful extent
+      women are got up in our day, even young women, and respectable women. No,
+      Rosa, dress can do little for you; you have beauty&mdash;real beauty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Beauty! That passes unnoticed, unless one is well dressed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then what an obscure pair the Apollo Belvidere and the Venus de Medicis
+      must be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! they are dressed&mdash;in marble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher Staines stared first, then smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well done,&rdquo; said he, admiringly. &ldquo;That IS a knockdown blow. So now you
+      have silenced your husband, go you to bed directly. I can't afford you
+      diamonds; so I will take care of that little insignificant trifle, your
+      beauty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Staines and Mrs. Lucas exchanged calls, and soon Mrs. Staines could
+      no longer complain she was out of the world. Mrs. Lucas invited her to
+      every party, because her beauty was an instrument of attraction she knew
+      how to use; and Miss Lucas took a downright fancy to her; drove her in the
+      park, and on Sundays to the Zoological Gardens, just beginning to be
+      fashionable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Lucases rented a box at the opera, and if it was not let at the
+      library by six o'clock, and if other engagements permitted, word was sent
+      round to Mrs. Staines, as a matter of course, and she was taken to the
+      opera. She began almost to live at the Lucases, and to be oftener fatigued
+      than moped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The usual order of things was inverted; the maiden lady educated the
+      matron; for Miss Lucas knew all about everybody in the Park, honorable or
+      dishonorable; all the scandals, and all the flirtations; and whatever she
+      knew, she related point-blank. Being as inquisitive as voluble, she soon
+      learned how Mrs. Staines and her husband were situated. She took upon her
+      to advise her in many things, and especially impressed upon her that Dr.
+      Staines must keep a carriage, if he wanted to get on in medicine. The
+      piece of advice accorded so well with Rosa's wishes, that she urged it on
+      her husband again and again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He objected that no money was coming in, and therefore it would be insane
+      to add to their expenses. Rosa persisted, and at last worried Staines with
+      her importunity. He began to give rather short answers. Then she quoted
+      Miss Lucas against him. He treated the authority with marked contempt; and
+      then Rosa fired up a little. Then Staines held his peace; but did not buy
+      a carriage to visit his no patients.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So at last Rosa complained to Lady Cicely Treherne, and made her the judge
+      between her husband and herself. Lady Cicely drawled out a prompt but
+      polite refusal to play that part. All that could be elicited from her, and
+      that with difficulty, was, &ldquo;Why quall with your husband about a cawwige;
+      he is your best fwiend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that he is,&rdquo; said Rosa; &ldquo;but Miss Lucas is a good friend, and she
+      knows the world. We don't; neither Christopher nor I.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So she continued to nag at her husband about it, and to say that he was
+      throwing his only chance away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Galled as he was by neglect, this was irritating, and at last he could not
+      help telling her she was unreasonable. &ldquo;You live a gay life, and I a sad
+      one. I consent to this, and let you go about with these Lucases, because
+      you were so dull; but you should not consult them in our private affairs.
+      Their interference is indelicate and improper. I will not set up a
+      carriage till I have patients to visit. I am sick of seeing our capital
+      dwindle, and no income created. I will never set up a carriage till I have
+      taken a hundred-guinea fee.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Then we shall go splashing through the mud all our days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Or ride in a cab,&rdquo; said Christopher, with a quiet doggedness that left no
+      hope of his yielding.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One afternoon Miss Lucas called for Mrs. Staines to drive in the Park, but
+      did not come up-stairs; it was an engagement, and she knew Mrs. Staines
+      would be ready, or nearly. Mrs. Staines, not to keep her waiting, came
+      down rather hastily, and in the very passage whipped out of her pocket a
+      little glass, and a little powder puff, and puffed her face all over in a
+      trice. She was then going out; but her husband called her into the study.
+      &ldquo;Rosa, my dear,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;you were going out with a dirty face.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; cried she, &ldquo;give me a glass.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no need of that. All you want is a basin and some nice
+      rain-water. I keep a little reservoir of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He then handed her the same with great politeness. She looked in his eye,
+      and saw he was not to be trifled with. She complied like a lamb, and the
+      heavenly color and velvet gloss that resulted were admirable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He kissed her and said, &ldquo;Ah! now you are my Rosa again. Oblige me by
+      handing over that powder-puff to me.&rdquo; She looked vexed, but complied.
+      &ldquo;When you come back I will tell you why.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a pest,&rdquo; said Mrs. Staines, and so joined her friend, rosy with
+      rain-water and a rub.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear me, how handsome you look to-day!&rdquo; was Miss Lucas's first remark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa never dreamed that rain-water and rub could be the cause of her
+      looking so well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is my tiresome husband,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;He objects to powder, and he has
+      taken away my puff.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you stood that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Obliged to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you poor-spirited little creature, I should like to see a husband
+      presume to interfere with me in those things. Here, take mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa hesitated a little. &ldquo;Well&mdash;no&mdash;I think not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Lucas laughed at her, and quizzed her so on her allowing a man to
+      interfere in such sacred things as dress and cosmetics, that she came back
+      irritated with her husband, and gave him a short answer or two. Then he
+      asked what was the matter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You treat me like a child&mdash;taking away my very puff.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I treat you like a beautiful flower, that no bad gardener shall wither
+      whilst I am here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What nonsense! How could that wither me? It is only violet powder&mdash;what
+      they put on babies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And who are the Herods that put it on babies?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Their own mothers, that love them ten times more than the fathers do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And kill a hundred of them for one a man ever kills. Mothers!&mdash;the
+      most wholesale homicides in the nation. We will examine your
+      violet-powder: bring it down here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While she was gone he sent for a breakfast-cupful of flour, and when she
+      came back he had his scales out, and begged her to put a teaspoonful of
+      flour into one scale and of violet powder into another. The flour kicked
+      the beam, as Homer expresses himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Put another spoonful of flour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The one spoonful of violet powder outweighed the two of flour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Staines, &ldquo;does not that show you the presence of a mineral in
+      your vegetable powder? I suppose they tell you it is made of white violets
+      dried, and triturated in a diamond mill. Let us find out what metal it is.
+      We need not go very deep into chemistry for that.&rdquo; He then applied a
+      simple test, and detected the presence of lead in large quantities. Then
+      he lectured her: &ldquo;Invisible perspiration is a process of nature necessary
+      to health and to life. The skin is made porous for that purpose. You can
+      kill anybody in an hour or two by closing the pores. A certain infallible
+      ass, called Pope Leo XII., killed a little boy in two hours, by gilding
+      him to adorn the pageant of his first procession as Pope. But what is
+      death to the whole body must be injurious to a part. What madness, then,
+      to clog the pores of so large and important a surface as the face, and
+      check the invisible perspiration: how much more to insert lead into your
+      system every day of your life; a cumulative poison, and one so deadly and
+      so subtle, that the Sheffield file-cutters die in their prime, from merely
+      hammering on a leaden anvil. And what do you gain by this suicidal habit?
+      No plum has a sweeter bloom or more delicious texture than the skin of
+      your young face; but this mineral filth hides that delicate texture, and
+      substitutes a dry, uniform appearance, more like a certain kind of leprosy
+      than health. Nature made your face the rival of peaches, roses, lilies;
+      and you say, 'No; I know better than my Creator and my God; my face shall
+      be like a dusty miller's.' Go into any flour-mill, and there you shall see
+      men with faces exactly like your friend Miss Lucas's. But before a miller
+      goes to his sweetheart, he always washes his face. You ladies would never
+      get a miller down to your level in brains. It is a miller's DIRTY face our
+      mono-maniacs of woman imitate, not the face a miller goes a-courting
+      with.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La! what a fuss about nothing!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About nothing! Is your health nothing? Is your beauty nothing? Well,
+      then, it will cost you nothing to promise me never to put powder on your
+      face again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, I promise. Now what will you do for me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Work for you&mdash;write for you&mdash;suffer for you&mdash;be
+      self-denying for you&mdash;and even give myself the pain of disappointing
+      you now and then&mdash;looking forward to the time when I shall be able to
+      say 'Yes' to everything you ask me. Ah! child, you little know what it
+      costs me to say 'No' to YOU.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa put her arms round him and acquiesced. She was one of those who go
+      with the last speaker; but, for that very reason, the eternal
+      companionship of so flighty and flirty a girl as Miss Lucas was injurious
+      to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day Lady Cicely Treherne was sitting with Mrs. Staines, smiling
+      languidly at her talk, and occasionally drawling out a little plain good
+      sense, when in came Miss Lucas, with her tongue well hung, as usual, and
+      dashed into twenty topics in ten minutes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This young lady in her discourse was like those little oily beetles you
+      see in small ponds, whose whole life is spent in tacking&mdash;confound
+      them for it!&mdash;generally at right angles. What they are in navigation
+      was Miss Lucas in conversation: tacked so eternally from topic to topic,
+      that no man on earth, and not every woman, could follow her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the sight and sound of her, Lady Cicely congealed and stiffened. Easy
+      and unpretending with Mrs. Staines, she was all dignity, and even majesty,
+      in the presence of this chatterbox; and the smoothness with which the
+      transfiguration was accomplished marked that accomplished actress the
+      high-bred woman of the world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa, better able to estimate the change of manner than Miss Lucas was,
+      who did not know how little this Sawny was afflicted with misplaced
+      dignity, looked wistfully and distressed at her. Lady Cicely smiled kindly
+      in reply, rose, without seeming to hurry,&mdash;catch her condescending to
+      be rude to Charlotte Lucas,&mdash;and took her departure, with a profound
+      and most gracious courtesy to the lady who had driven her away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Staines saw her down-stairs, and said, ruefully, &ldquo;I am afraid you do
+      not like my friend Miss Lucas. She is a great rattle, but so good-natured
+      and clever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Cicely shook her head. &ldquo;Clevaa people don't talk so much nonsense
+      before strangaas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear!&rdquo; said Rosa. &ldquo;I was in hopes you would like her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do YOU like her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed I do; but I shall not, if she drives an older friend away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dyah, I'm not easily dwiven from those I esteem. But you undastand
+      that is not a woman for me to mispwonownce my 'ah's befaw&mdash;NOR FOR
+      YOU TO MAKE A BOSOM FWIEND OF&mdash;WOSA STAINES.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She said this with a sudden maternal solemnity and kindness that
+      contrasted nobly and strangely with her yea-nay style, and Mrs. Staines
+      remembered the words years after they were spoken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It so happened that after this Mrs. Staines received no more visits from
+      Lady Cicely for some time, and that vexed her. She knew her sex enough to
+      be aware that they are very jealous, and she permitted herself to think
+      that this high-minded Sawny was jealous of Miss Lucas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This idea, founded on a general estimate of her sex, was dispelled by a
+      few lines from Lady Cicely, to say her family and herself were in deep
+      distress; her brother, Lord Ayscough, lay dying from an accident.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Rosa was all remorse, and ran down to Staines to tell him. She found
+      him with an open letter in his hand. It was from Dr. Barr, and on the same
+      subject. The doctor, who had always been friendly to him, invited him to
+      come down at once to Hallowtree Hall, in Huntingdonshire, to a
+      consultation. There was a friendly intimation to start at once, as the
+      patient might die any moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Husband and wife embraced each other in a tumult of surprised
+      thankfulness. A few necessaries were thrown into a carpet-bag, and Dr.
+      Staines was soon whirled into Huntingdonshire. Having telegraphed
+      beforehand, he was met at the station by the earl's carriage and people,
+      and driven to the Hall. He was received by an old, silver-haired butler,
+      looking very sad, who conducted him to a boudoir; and then went and tapped
+      gently at the door of the patient's room. It was opened and shut very
+      softly, and Lady Cicely, dressed in black, and looking paler than ever,
+      came into the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Staines, I think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He bowed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you for coming so promptly. Dr. Barr is gone. I fear he thinks&mdash;he
+      thinks&mdash;O Dr. Staines&mdash;no sign of life but in his poor hands,
+      that keep moving night and day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines looked very grave at that. Lady Cicely observed it, and, faint at
+      heart, could say no more, but led the way to the sick-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There in a spacious chamber, lighted by a grand oriel window and two side
+      windows, lay rank, title, wealth, and youth, stricken down in a moment by
+      a common accident. The sufferer's face was bloodless, his eyes fixed, and
+      no signs of life but in his thumbs, and they kept working with strange
+      regularity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the room were a nurse and the surgeon; the neighboring physician, who
+      had called in Dr. Barr, had just paid his visit and gone away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Cicely introduced Dr. Staines and Mr. White, and then Dr. Staines
+      stood and fixed his eyes on the patient in profound silence. Lady Cicely
+      scanned his countenance searchingly, and was struck with the extraordinary
+      power and intensity it assumed in examining the patient; but the result
+      was not encouraging. Dr. Staines looked grave and gloomy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, without removing his eye from the recumbent figure, he said
+      quietly to Mr. White, &ldquo;Thrown from his horse, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Horse fell on him, Dr. Staines.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Any visible injuries?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Severe contusions, and a rib broken and pressed upon the lungs. I
+      replaced and set it. Will you see?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He examined and felt the patient, and said it had been ably done.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he was silent and searching.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last he spoke again. &ldquo;The motion of the thumbs corresponds exactly with
+      his pulse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that so, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is. The case is without a parallel. How long has he been so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nearly a week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Impossible!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is so, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Cicely confirmed this.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the better,&rdquo; said Dr. Staines upon reflection. &ldquo;Well, sir,&rdquo; said he,
+      &ldquo;the visible injuries having been ably relieved, I shall look another way
+      for the cause.&rdquo; Then, after another pause, &ldquo;I must have his head shaved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Cicely demurred a little to this; but Dr. Staines stood firm, and his
+      lordship's valet undertook the job.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines directed him where to begin; and when he had made a circular
+      tonsure on the top of the head, had it sponged with tepid water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought so,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Here is the mischief;&rdquo; and he pointed to a very
+      slight indentation on the left side of the pia mater. &ldquo;Observe,&rdquo; said he,
+      &ldquo;there is no corresponding indentation on the other side. Underneath this
+      trifling depression a minute piece of bone is doubtless pressing on the
+      most sensitive part of the brain. He must be trephined.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. White's eyes sparkled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are an hospital surgeon, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Dr. Staines. I have no fear of the operation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I hand the patient over to you. The case at present is entirely
+      surgical.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      White was driven home, and soon returned with the requisite instruments.
+      The operation was neatly performed, and then Lady Cicely was called in.
+      She came trembling; her brother's fingers were still working, but not so
+      regularly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is only HABIT,&rdquo; said Staines; &ldquo;it will soon leave off, now the cause
+      is gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And, truly enough, in about five minutes the fingers became quiet. The
+      eyes became human next; and within half an hour after the operation the
+      earl gave a little sigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Cicely clasped her hands, and uttered a little cry of delight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This will not do,&rdquo; said Staines, &ldquo;I shall have you screaming when he
+      speaks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Dr. Staines! will he ever speak?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think so, and very soon. So be on your guard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This strange scene reached its climax soon after, by the earl saying,
+      quietly,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are her knees broke, Tom?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Cicely uttered a little scream, but instantly suppressed it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, my lord,&rdquo; said Staines, smartly; &ldquo;only rubbed a bit. You can go to
+      sleep, my lord. I'll take care of the mare.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said his lordship; and composed himself to slumber.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines, at the earnest request of Lady Cicely, stayed all night; and
+      in course of the day advised her how to nurse the patient, since both
+      physician and surgeon had done with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He said the patient's brain might be irritable for some days, and no women
+      in silk dresses or crinoline, or creaking shoes, must enter the room. He
+      told her the nurse was evidently a clumsy woman, and would be letting
+      things fall. She had better get some old soldier used to nursing. &ldquo;And
+      don't whisper in the room,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;nothing irritates them worse; and
+      don't let anybody play a piano within hearing; but in a day or two you may
+      try him with slow and continuous music on the flute or violin if you like.
+      Don't touch his bed suddenly; don't sit on it or lean on it. Dole sunlight
+      into his room by degrees; and when he can bear it, drench him with it.
+      Never mind what the old school tell you. About these things they know a
+      good deal less than nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Cicely received all this like an oracle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cure was telegraphed to Dr. Barr, and he was requested to settle the
+      fee. He was not the man to undersell the profession, and was jealous of
+      nobody, having a large practice, and a very wealthy wife. So he
+      telegraphed back&mdash;&ldquo;Fifty guineas, and a guinea a mile from London.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So, as Christopher Staines sat at an early breakfast, with the carriage
+      waiting to take him to the train, two notes were brought him on a salver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were both directed by Lady Cicely Treherne. One of them contained a
+      few kind and feeling words of gratitude and esteem; the other, a check,
+      drawn by the earl's steward, for one hundred and thirty guineas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He bowled up to London, and told it all to Rosa. She sparkled with pride,
+      affection, and joy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, who says you are not a genius?&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;A hundred and thirty
+      guineas for one fee! Now, if you love your wife as she loves you&mdash;you
+      will set up a brougham.&rdquo;
+     </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>
+      Doctor Staines begged leave to distinguish; he had not said he would set
+      up a carriage at the first one hundred guinea fee, but only that he would
+      not set up one before. There are misguided people who would call this
+      logic: but Rosa said it was equivocating, and urged him so warmly that at
+      last he burst out, &ldquo;Who can go on forever saying 'No,' to the only
+      creature he loves?&rdquo;&mdash;and caved. In forty-eight hours more a brougham
+      waited at Mrs. Staines's door. The servant engaged to drive it was Andrew
+      Pearman, a bachelor, and, hitherto, an under-groom. He readily consented
+      to be coachman, and to do certain domestic work as well. So Mrs. Staines
+      had a man-servant as well as a carriage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ere long, three or four patients called, or wrote, one after the other.
+      These Rosa set down to brougham, and crowed; she even crowed to Lady
+      Cicely Treherne, to whose influence, and not to brougham's, every one of
+      these patients was owing. Lady Cicely kissed her, and demurely enjoyed the
+      poor soul's self-satisfaction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines himself, while he drove to or from these patients, felt more
+      sanguine, and buoyed as he was by the consciousness of ability, began to
+      hope he had turned the corner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sent an account of Lord Ayscough's case to a medical magazine: and so
+      full is the world of flunkeyism, that this article, though he withheld the
+      name, retaining only the title, got the literary wedge in for him at once:
+      and in due course he became a paid contributor to two medical organs, and
+      used to study and write more, and indent the little stone yard less than
+      heretofore.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was about this time circumstances made him acquainted with Phoebe Dale.
+      Her intermediate history I will dispose of in fewer words than it
+      deserves. Her ruin, Mr. Reginald Falcon, was dismissed from his club, for
+      marking high cards on the back with his nail. This stopped his remaining
+      resource&mdash;borrowing: so he got more and more out at elbows, till at
+      last he came down to hanging about billiard-rooms, and making a little
+      money by concealing his game; from that, however, he rose to be a marker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Having culminated to that, he wrote and proposed marriage to Miss Dale, in
+      a charming letter: she showed it to her father with pride.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, if his vanity, his disloyalty, his falsehood, his ingratitude, and
+      his other virtues had not stood in the way, he would have done this three
+      years ago, and been jumped at.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the offer came too late; not for Phoebe&mdash;she would have taken him
+      in a moment&mdash;but for her friends. A baited hook is one thing, a bare
+      hook is another. Farmer Dale had long discovered where Phoebe's money
+      went: he said not a word to her; but went up to town like a shot; found
+      Falcon out, and told him he mustn't think to eat his daughter's bread. She
+      should marry a man that could make a decent livelihood; and if she was to
+      run away with HIM, why they'd starve together. The farmer was resolute,
+      and spoke very loud, like one that expects opposition, and comes prepared
+      to quarrel. Instead of that, this artful rogue addressed him with deep
+      respect and an affected veneration, that quite puzzled the old man;
+      acquiesced in every word, expressed contrition for his past misdeeds, and
+      told the farmer he had quite determined to labor with his hands. &ldquo;You
+      know, farmer,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I am not the only gentleman who has come to that
+      in the present day. Now, all my friends that have seen my sketches, assure
+      me I am a born painter; and a painter I'll be&mdash;for love of Phoebe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The farmer made a wry face. &ldquo;Painter! that is a sorry sort of a trade.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are mistaken. It's the best trade going. There are gentlemen making
+      their thousands a year by it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not in our parts, there bain't. Stop a bit. What be ye going to paint,
+      sir? Housen, or folk?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, hang it, not houses. Figures, landscapes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, ye might just make shift to live at it, I suppose, with here and
+      there a signboard. They are the best paid, our way: but, Lord bless ye,
+      THEY wants headpiece. Well, sir, let me see your work. Then we'll talk
+      further.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll go to work this afternoon,&rdquo; said Falcon eagerly; then with affected
+      surprise, &ldquo;Bless me; I forgot. I have no palette, no canvas, no colors.
+      You couldn't lend me a couple of sovereigns to buy them, could you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, sir; I could. But I woan't. I'll lend ye the things, though, if you
+      have a mind to go with me and buy 'em.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon agreed, with a lofty smile; and the purchases were made.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Falcon painted a landscape or two out of his imagination. The dealers
+      to whom he took them declined them; one advised the gentleman painter to
+      color tea-boards. &ldquo;That's your line,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The world has no taste,&rdquo; said the gentleman painter: &ldquo;but it has got lots
+      of vanity: I'll paint portraits.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He did; and formidable ones: his portraits were amazingly like the people,
+      and yet unlike men and women, especially about the face. One thing, he
+      didn't trouble with lights and shades, but went slap at the features.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His brush would never have kept him; but he carried an instrument, in the
+      use of which he was really an artist, viz., his tongue. By wheedling and
+      underselling&mdash;for he only charged a pound for the painted canvas&mdash;he
+      contrived to live; then he aspired to dress as well as live. With this
+      second object in view, he hit upon a characteristic expedient.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He used to prowl about, and when he saw a young woman sweeping the
+      afternoon streets with a long silk train, and, in short, dressed to ride
+      in the park, yet parading the streets, he would take his hat off to her,
+      with an air of profound respect, and ask permission to take her portrait.
+      Generally he met a prompt rebuff; but if the fair was so unlucky as to
+      hesitate a single moment, he told her a melting tale; he had once driven
+      his four-in-hand; but by indorsing his friends' bills, was reduced to
+      painting likeness, admirable likenesses in oil, only a guinea each.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His piteous tale provoked more gibes than pity, but as he had no shame,
+      the rebuffs went for nothing: he actually did get a few sitters by his
+      audacity: and some of the sitters actually took the pictures, and paid for
+      them; others declined them with fury as soon as they were finished. These
+      he took back with a piteous sigh, that sometimes extracted half a crown.
+      Then he painted over the rejected one and let it dry; so that sometimes a
+      paid portrait would present a beauty enthroned on the debris of two or
+      three rivals, and that is where few beauties would object to sit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All this time he wrote nice letters to Phoebe, and adopted the tone of the
+      struggling artist, and the true lover, who wins his bride by patience,
+      perseverance, and indomitable industry; a babbled of &ldquo;Self Help.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime, Phoebe was not idle: an excellent business woman, she took
+      immediate advantage of a new station that was built near the farm, to send
+      up milk, butter, and eggs to London. Being genuine, they sold like
+      wildfire. Observing that, she extended her operations, by buying of other
+      farmers, and forwarding to London: and then, having of course an eye to
+      her struggling artist, she told her father she must have a shop in London,
+      and somebody in it she could depend upon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With all my heart, wench,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;but it must not be thou. I can't
+      spare thee.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I have Dick, father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dick! he is rather young.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he is very quick, father, and minds every word I tell him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, he is as fond of thee as ever a cow was of a calf. Well, you can try
+      him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So the love-sick woman of business set up a little shop, and put her
+      brother Dick in it, and all to see more of her struggling artist. She
+      stayed several days, to open the little shop, and start the business. She
+      advertised pure milk, and challenged scientific analysis of everything she
+      sold. This came of her being a reader; she knew, by the journals, that we
+      live in a sinful and adulterating generation, and anything pure must be a
+      godsend to the poor poisoned public.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, Dr. Staines, though known to the profession as a diagnost, was also
+      an analyst, and this challenge brought him down on Phoebe Dale. He told
+      her he was a physician, and in search of pure food for his own family&mdash;would
+      she really submit the milk to analysis?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe smiled an honest country smile, and said, &ldquo;Surely, sir.&rdquo; She gave
+      him every facility, and he applied those simple tests which are commonly
+      used in France, though hardly known in England.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He found it perfectly pure, and told her so; and gazed at Phoebe for a
+      moment, as a phenomenon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She smiled again at that, her broad country smile. &ldquo;That is a wonder in
+      London, I dare say. It's my belief half the children that die here are
+      perished with watered milk. Well, sir, we shan't have that on our souls,
+      father and I; he is a farmer in Essex. This comes a many miles, this
+      milk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines looked in her face, with kindly approval marked on his own
+      eloquent features. She blushed a little at so fixed a regard. Then he
+      asked her if she would supply him with milk, butter, and eggs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, if you mean sell you them, yes, sir, with pleasure. But for sending
+      them home to you in this big town, as some do, I can't; for there's only
+      brother Dick and me: it is an experiment like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said Staines: &ldquo;I will send for them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you kindly, sir. I hope you won't be offended, sir; but we only
+      sell for ready money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the better: my order at home is, no bills.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When he was gone, Phoebe, assuming vast experience, though this was only
+      her third day, told Dick that was one of the right sort: &ldquo;and oh, Dick,&rdquo;
+       said she, &ldquo;did you notice his eye?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not particklar, sister.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There now; the boy is blind. Why, 'twas like a jewel. Such an eye I never
+      saw in a man's head, nor a woman's neither.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines told his wife about Phoebe and her brother, and spoke of her with
+      a certain admiration that raised Rosa's curiosity, and even that sort of
+      vague jealousy that fires at bare praise. &ldquo;I should like to see this
+      phenomenon,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;You shall,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I have to call on Mrs.
+      Manly. She lives near. I will drop you at the little shop, and come back
+      for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He did so, and that gave Rosa a quarter of an hour to make her purchases.
+      When he came back he found her conversing with Phoebe, as if they were old
+      friends, and Dick glaring at his wife with awe and admiration. He could
+      hardly get her away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was far more extravagant in her praises than Dr. Staines had been.
+      &ldquo;What a good creature!&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;And how clever! To think of her setting
+      up a shop like that all by herself; for her Dick is only seventeen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines recommended the little shop wherever he went, and even
+      extended its operations. He asked Phoebe to get her own wheat ground at
+      home, and send the flour up in bushel bags. &ldquo;These assassins, the bakers,&rdquo;
+       said he, &ldquo;are putting copper into the flour now, as well as alum. Pure
+      flour is worth a fancy price to any family. With that we can make the
+      bread of life. What you buy in the shops is the bread of death.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dick was a good, sharp boy, devoted to his sister. He stuck to the shop in
+      London, and handed the money to Phoebe, when she came for it. She worked
+      for it in Essex, and extended her country connection for supply as the
+      retail business increased.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines wrote an article on pure food, and incidentally mentioned the shop
+      as a place where flour, milk, and butter were to be had pure. This article
+      was published in the Lancet, and caused quite a run upon the little shop.
+      By and by Phoebe enlarged it, for which there were great capabilities, and
+      made herself a pretty little parlor, and there she and Dick sat to Falcon
+      for their portraits; here, too, she hung his rejected landscapes. They
+      were fair in her eyes; what matter whether they were like nature? his hand
+      had painted them. She knew, from him, that everybody else had rejected
+      them. With all the more pride and love did she have them framed in gold,
+      and hung up with the portraits in her little sanctum.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a few months Phoebe Dale was as happy as she deserved to be. Her lover
+      was working, and faithful to her&mdash;at least she saw no reason to doubt
+      it. He came to see her every evening, and seemed devoted to her: would sit
+      quietly with her, or walk with her, or take her to a play, or a music-hall&mdash;at
+      her expense.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She now lived in a quiet elysium, with a bright and rapturous dream of the
+      future; for she saw she had hit on a good vein of business, and should
+      soon be independent, and able to indulge herself with a husband, and ask
+      no man's leave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She sent to Essex for a dairymaid, and set her to churn milk into butter,
+      coram populo, at a certain hour every morning. This made a new sensation.
+      At other times the woman was employed to deliver milk and cream to a few
+      favored customers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Staines dropped in now and then, and chatted with her. Her sweet face
+      and her naivete won Phoebe's heart; and one day, as happiness is apt to be
+      communicative, she let out to her, in reply to a feeler or two as to
+      whether she was quite alone, that she was engaged to be married to a
+      gentleman. &ldquo;But he is not rich, ma'am,&rdquo; said Phoebe plaintively; &ldquo;he has
+      had trouble: obliged to work for his living, like me; he painted these
+      pictures, EVERY ONE OF THEM. If it was not making too free, and you could
+      spare a guinea&mdash;he charges no more for the picture, only you must go
+      to the expense of the frame.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I will,&rdquo; said Rosa warmly. &ldquo;I'll sit for it here, any day you
+      like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, Rosa said this, out of her ever ready kindness, not to wound Phoebe:
+      but having made the promise, she kept clear of the place for some days,
+      hoping Phoebe would forget all about it. Meantime she sent her husband to
+      buy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In about a fortnight she called again, primed with evasions if she should
+      be asked to sit; but nothing of the kind was proposed. Phoebe was dealing
+      when she went in. The customers disposed of, she said to Mrs. Staines,
+      &ldquo;Oh, ma'am, I am glad you are come. I have something I should like to show
+      you.&rdquo; She took her into the parlor, and made her sit down: then she opened
+      a drawer, and took out a very small substance that looked like a tear of
+      ground glass, and put it on the table before her. &ldquo;There, ma'am,&rdquo; said
+      she, &ldquo;that is all he has had for painting a friend's picture.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! what a shame.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His friend was going abroad&mdash;to Natal; to his uncle that farms out
+      there, and does very well; it is a first-rate part, if you take out a
+      little stock with you, and some money; so my one gave him credit, and when
+      the letter came with that postmark, he counted on a five-pound note; but
+      the letter only said he had got no money yet, but sent him something as a
+      keepsake: and there was this little stone. Poor fellow! he flung it down
+      in a passion; he was so disappointed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe's great gray eyes filled; and Rosa gave a little coo of sympathy
+      that was very womanly and lovable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe leaned her cheek on her hand, and said thoughtfully, &ldquo;I picked it
+      up, and brought it away; for, after all&mdash;don't you think, ma'am, it
+      is very strange that a friend should send it all that way, if it was worth
+      nothing at all?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is impossible. He could not be so heartless.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And do you know, ma'am, when I take it up in my fingers, it doesn't feel
+      like a thing that was worth nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No more it does: it makes my fingers tremble. May I take it home, and
+      show it my husband? he is a great physician and knows everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure I should be obliged to you, ma'am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa drove home, on purpose to show it to Christopher. She ran into his
+      study: &ldquo;Oh, Christopher, please look at that. You know that good creature
+      we have our flour and milk and things of. She is engaged, and he is a
+      painter. Oh, such daubs! He painted a friend, and the friend sent that
+      home all the way from Natal, and he dashed it down, and SHE picked it up,
+      and what is it? ground glass, or a pebble, or what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph!&mdash;by its shape, and the great&mdash;brilliancy&mdash;and
+      refraction of light, on this angle, where the stone has got polished by
+      rubbing against other stones, in the course of ages, I'm inclined to think
+      it is&mdash;a diamond.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A diamond!&rdquo; shrieked Rosa. &ldquo;No wonder my fingers trembled. Oh, can it be?
+      Oh, you good, cold-blooded Christie!&mdash;Poor things!&mdash;Come along,
+      Diamond! Oh you beauty! Oh you duck!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be in such a hurry. I only said I thought it was a diamond. Let me
+      weigh it against water, and then I shall KNOW.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took it to his little laboratory, and returned in a few minutes, and
+      said, &ldquo;Yes. It is just three times and a half heavier than water. It is a
+      diamond.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you positive?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll stake my existence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it worth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear, I'm not a jeweller: but it is very large and pear-shaped, and I
+      see no flaw: I don't think you could buy it for less than three hundred
+      pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Three hundred pounds! It is worth three hundred pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Or sell it for more than a hundred and fifty pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A hundred and fifty! It is worth a hundred and fifty pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, my dear, one would think you had invented 'the diamond.' Show me how
+      to crystallize carbon, and I will share your enthusiasm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I leave you to carbonize crystal. I prefer to gladden hearts: and I
+      will do it this minute, with my diamond.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do, dear; and I will take that opportunity to finish my article on
+      Adulteration.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa drove off to Phoebe Dale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now Phoebe was drinking tea with Reginald Falcon, in her little parlor.
+      &ldquo;Who is that, I wonder?&rdquo; said she, when the carriage drew up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Reginald drew back a corner of the gauze curtain which had been drawn
+      across the little glass door leading from the shop.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a lady, and a beautiful&mdash;Oh! let me get out.&rdquo; And he rushed
+      out at the door leading to the kitchen, not to be recognized.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This set Phoebe all in a flutter, and the next moment Mrs. Staines tapped
+      at the little door, then opened it, and peeped. &ldquo;Good news! may I come
+      in?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely,&rdquo; said Phoebe, still troubled and confused by Reginald's strange
+      agitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There! It is a diamond!&rdquo; screamed Rosa. &ldquo;My husband knew it directly. He
+      knows everything. If ever you are ill, go to him and nobody else&mdash;by
+      the refraction, and the angle, and its being three times and a half as
+      heavy as water. It is worth three hundred pounds to buy, and a hundred and
+      fifty pounds to sell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So don't you go throwing it away, as he did. (In a whisper.) Two teacups?
+      Was that him? I have driven him away. I am so sorry. I'll go; and then you
+      can tell him. Poor fellow!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, ma'am, don't go yet,&rdquo; said Phoebe, trembling. &ldquo;I haven't half thanked
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, bother thanks. Kiss me; that is the way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may, and must. There&mdash;and there&mdash;and there. Oh dear, what
+      nice things good luck and happiness are, and how sweet to bring them for
+      once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon this Phoebe and she had a nice little cry together, and Mrs. Staines
+      went off refreshed thereby, and as gay as a lark, pointing slyly at the
+      door, and making faces to Phoebe that she knew he was there, and she only
+      retired, out of her admirable discretion, that they might enjoy the
+      diamond together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she was gone, Reginald, whose eye and ear had been at the keyhole,
+      alternately gloating on the face and drinking the accents of the only
+      woman he had ever really loved, came out, looking pale, and strangely
+      disturbed; and sat down at table, without a word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe came back to him, full of the diamond. &ldquo;Did you hear what she said,
+      my dear? It is a diamond; it is worth a hundred and fifty pounds at least.
+      Why, what ails you? Ah! to be sure! you know that lady.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have cause to know her. Cursed jilt!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You seem a good deal put out at the sight of her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It took me by surprise, that is all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It takes me by surprise too. I thought you were cured. I thought MY turn
+      had come at last.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Reginald met this in sullen silence. Then Phoebe was sorry she had said
+      it; for, after all, it wasn't the man's fault if an old sweetheart had run
+      into the room, and given him a start. So she made him some fresh tea, and
+      pressed him kindly to try her home-made bread and butter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      My lord relaxed his frown and consented, and of course they talked
+      diamond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He told her, loftily, he must take a studio, and his sitters must come to
+      him, and must no longer expect to be immortalized for one pound. It must
+      be two pounds for a bust, and three pounds for a kitcat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, but, my dear,&rdquo; said Phoebe, &ldquo;they will pay no more because you have
+      a diamond.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then they will have to go unpainted,&rdquo; said Mr. Falcon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was intended for a threat. Phoebe instinctively felt that it might
+      not be so received; she counselled moderation. &ldquo;It is a great thing to
+      have earned a diamond,&rdquo; said she: &ldquo;but 'tis only once in a life. Now, be
+      ruled by me: go on just as you are. Sell the diamond, and give me the
+      money to keep for you. Why, you might add a little to it, and so would I,
+      till we made it up two hundred pounds. And if you could only show two
+      hundred pounds you had made and laid by, father would let us marry, and I
+      might keep this shop&mdash;it pays well, I can tell you&mdash;and keep my
+      gentleman in a sly corner; you need never be seen in it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, ay,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;that is the small game. But I am a man that have
+      always preferred the big game. I shall set up my studio, and make enough
+      to keep us both. So give me the stone, if you please. I shall take it
+      round to them all, and the rogues won't get it out of ME for a hundred and
+      fifty; why, it is as big as a nut.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, Reginald. Money has always made mischief between you and me. You
+      never had fifty pounds yet, you didn't fall into temptation. Do pray let
+      me keep it for you; or else sell it&mdash;I know how to sell; nobody
+      better&mdash;and keep the money for a good occasion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it yours, or mine?&rdquo; said he, sulkily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why yours, dear; you earned it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then give it me, please.&rdquo; And he almost forced it out of her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So now she sat down and cried over this piece of good luck, for her heart
+      filled with forebodings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He laughed at her, but at last had the grace to console her, and assure
+      her she was tormenting herself for nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Time will show,&rdquo; said she, sadly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Time did show.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Three or four days he came, as usual, to laugh her out of her forebodings.
+      But presently his visits ceased. She knew what that meant: he was living
+      like a gentleman, melting his diamond, and playing her false with the
+      first pretty face he met.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This blow, coming after she had been so happy, struck Phoebe Dale stupid
+      with grief. The line on her high forehead deepened; and at night she sat
+      with her hands before her, sighing, and sighing, and listening for the
+      footsteps that never came.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Dick!&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;never you love any one. I am aweary of my life. And
+      to think that, but for that diamond&mdash;oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Dick used to try and comfort her in his way, and often put his arm
+      round her neck, and gave her his rough but honest sympathy. Dick's rare
+      affection was her one drop of comfort; it was something to relieve her
+      swelling heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Dick!&rdquo; she said to him one night, &ldquo;I wish I had married him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, to be ill-used?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He couldn't use me worse. I have been wife, and mother, and sweetheart,
+      and all, to him; and to be left like this. He treats me like the dirt
+      beneath his feet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis your own fault, Phoebe, partly. You say the word, and I'll break
+      every bone in his carcass.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, do him a mischief! Why, I'd rather die than harm a hair of his
+      head. You must never lift a hand to him, or I shall hate you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hate ME, Phoebe?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, boy: I should. God forgive me: 'tis no use deceiving ourselves; when
+      a woman loves a man she despises, never you come between them; there's no
+      reason in her love, so it is incurable. One comfort, it can't go on
+      forever; it must kill me, before my time and so best. If I was only a
+      mother, and had a little Reginald to dandle on my knee and gloat upon,
+      till he spent his money, and came back to me. That's why I said I wished I
+      was his wife. Oh! why does God fill a poor woman's bosom with love, and
+      nothing to spend it on but a stone; for sure his heart must be one. If I
+      had only something that would let me always love it, a little toddling
+      thing at my knee, that would always let me look at it, and love it,
+      something too young to be false to me, too weak to run away from my long&mdash;ing&mdash;arms&mdash;and&mdash;year&mdash;ning
+      heart!&rdquo; Then came a burst of agony, and moans of desolation, till poor
+      puzzled Dick blubbered loudly at her grief; and then her tears flowed in
+      streams.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Trouble on trouble. Dick himself got strangely out of sorts, and
+      complained of shivers. Phoebe sent him to bed early, and made him some
+      white wine whey very hot. In the morning he got up, and said he was
+      better; but after breakfast he was violently sick, and suffered several
+      returns of nausea before noon. &ldquo;One would think I was poisoned,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At one o'clock he was seized with a kind of spasm in the throat that
+      lasted so long it nearly choked him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Phoebe got frightened, and sent to the nearest surgeon. He did not
+      hurry, and poor Dick had another frightful spasm just as he came in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is hysterical,&rdquo; said the surgeon. &ldquo;No disease of the heart, is there?
+      Give him a little sal-volatile every half hour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In spite of the sal-volatile these terrible spasms seized him every half
+      hour; and now he used to spring off the bed with a cry of terror when they
+      came; and each one left him weaker and weaker; he had to be carried back
+      by the women.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A sad, sickening fear seized on Phoebe. She left Dick with the maid, and
+      tying on her bonnet in a moment, rushed wildly down the street, asking the
+      neighbors for a great doctor, the best that could be had for money. One
+      sent her east a mile, another west, and she was almost distracted, when
+      who should drive up but Dr. and Mrs. Staines, to make purchases. She did
+      not know his name, but she knew he was a doctor. She ran to the window,
+      and cried, &ldquo;Oh, doctor, my brother! Oh, pray come to him. Oh! oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines got quickly, but calmly, out; told his wife to wait; and
+      followed Phoebe up-stairs. She told him in a few agitated words how Dick
+      had been taken, and all the symptoms; especially what had alarmed her so,
+      his springing off the bed when the spasm came.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines told her to hold the patient up. He lost not a moment, but
+      opened his mouth resolutely, and looked down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The glottis is swollen,&rdquo; said he: then he felt his hands, and said, with
+      the grave, terrible calm of experience, &ldquo;He is dying.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no! no! Oh, doctor, save him! save him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing can save him, unless we had a surgeon on the spot. Yes, I might
+      save him, if you have the courage: opening his windpipe before the next
+      spasm is his one chance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Open his windpipe! Oh, doctor! It will kill him. Let me look at you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked hard in his face. It gave her confidence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it the only chance?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The only one: and it is flying while we chatter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DO IT.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He whipped out his lancet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I can't look on it. I trust to you and my Saviour's mercy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She fell on her knees, and bowed her head in prayer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines seized a basin, put it by the bedside, made an incision in the
+      windpipe, and got Dick down on his stomach, with his face over the
+      bedside. Some blood ran, but not much. &ldquo;Now!&rdquo; he cried, cheerfully, &ldquo;a
+      small bellows! There's one in your parlor. Run.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe ran for it, and at Dr. Staines' direction lifted Dick a little,
+      while the bellows, duly cleansed, were gently applied to the aperture in
+      the windpipe, and the action of the lungs delicately aided by this
+      primitive but effectual means.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He showed Phoebe how to do it, tore a leaf out of his pocket-book, wrote a
+      hasty direction to an able surgeon near, and sent his wife off with it in
+      the carriage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe and he never left the patient till the surgeon came with all the
+      instruments required; amongst the rest, with a big, tortuous pair of
+      nippers, with which he could reach the glottis, and snip it. But they
+      consulted, and thought it wiser to continue the surer method; and so a
+      little tube was neatly inserted into Dick's windpipe, and his throat
+      bandaged; and by this aperture he did his breathing for some little time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe nursed him like a mother; and the terror and the joy did her good,
+      and made her less desolate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dick was only just well when both of them were summoned to the farm, and
+      arrived only just in time to receive their father's blessing and his last
+      sigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Their elder brother, a married man, inherited the farm, and was executor.
+      Phoebe and Dick were left fifteen hundred pounds apiece, on condition of
+      their leaving England and going to Natal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They knew directly what that meant. Phoebe was to be parted from a bad
+      man, and Dick was to comfort her for the loss.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When this part of the will was read to Phoebe, she turned faint, and only
+      her health and bodily vigor kept her from swooning right away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But she yielded. &ldquo;It is the will of the dead,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;and I will obey
+      it; for, oh, if I had but listened to him more when he was alive to advise
+      me, I should not sit here now, sick at heart and dry-eyed, when I ought to
+      be thinking only of the good friend that is gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When she had come to this she became feverishly anxious to be gone. She
+      busied herself in purchasing agricultural machines, and stores, and even
+      stock; and to see her pinching the beasts' ribs to find their condition,
+      and parrying all attempts to cheat her, you would never have believed she
+      could be a love-sick woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dick kept her up to the mark. He only left her to bargain with the master
+      of a good vessel; for it was no trifle to take out horses and cows, and
+      machines, and bales of cloth, cotton, and linen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When that was settled they came in to town together, and Phoebe bought
+      shrewdly, at wholesale houses in the city, for cash, and would have
+      bargains: and the little shop in &mdash;&mdash;- Street was turned into a
+      warehouse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were all ardor, as colonists should be; and what pleased Dick most,
+      she never mentioned Falcon; yet he learned from the maid that worthy had
+      been there twice, looking very seedy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The day drew near. Dick was in high spirits.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shall soon make our fortune out there,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;and I'll get you a
+      good husband.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She shuddered, but said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The evening before they were to sail, Phoebe sat alone, in her black
+      dress, tired with work, and asking herself, sick at heart, could she ever
+      really leave England, when the door opened softly, and Reginald Falcon,
+      shabbily dressed, came in, and threw himself into a chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She started up with a scream, then sank down again, trembling, and turned
+      her face to the wall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you are going to run away from me!&rdquo; said he savagely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, Reginald,&rdquo; said she meekly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is your fine love, is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have worn it out, dear,&rdquo; she said softly, without turning her head
+      from the wall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish I could say as much; but, curse it, every time I leave you I learn
+      to love you more. I am never really happy but when I am with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bless you for saying that, dear. I often thought you MUST find that out
+      one day; but you took too long.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, better late than never. Phoebe! Can you have the heart to go to the
+      Cape, and leave me all alone in the world, with nobody that really cares
+      for me? Surely you are not obliged to go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; my father left Dick and me fifteen hundred pounds apiece to go: that
+      was the condition. Poor Dick loves his unhappy sister. He won't go without
+      me&mdash;I should be his ruin&mdash;poor Dick, that really loves me; and
+      he lay a-dying here, and the good doctor and me&mdash;God bless him&mdash;we
+      brought him back from the grave. Ah, you little know what I have gone
+      through. You were not here. Catch you being near me when I am in trouble.
+      There, I must go. I must go. I will go; if I fling myself into the sea
+      half way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And, if you do, I'll take a dose of poison; for I have thrown away the
+      truest heart, the sweetest, most unselfish, kindest, generous&mdash;oh!
+      oh! oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And he began to howl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This set Phoebe sobbing. &ldquo;Don't cry, dear,&rdquo; she murmured through her
+      tears; &ldquo;if you have really any love for me, come with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, leave England, and go to a desert?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Love can make a desert a garden.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Phoebe, I'll do anything else. I'll swear not to leave your side. I'll
+      never look at any other face but yours. But I can't live in Africa.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know you can't. It takes a little real love to go there with a poor
+      girl like me. Ah, well, I'd have made you so happy. We are not poor
+      emigrants. I have a horse for you to ride, and guns to shoot; and me and
+      Dick would do all the work for you. But there are others here you can't
+      leave for me. Well, then, good-by, dear. In Africa, or here, I shall
+      always love you; and many a salt tear I shall shed for you yet, many a one
+      I have, as well you know. God bless you. Pray for poor Phoebe, that goes
+      against her will to Africa, and leaves her heart with thee.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was too much even for the selfish Reginald. He kneeled at her knees,
+      and took her hand, and kissed it, and actually shed a tear or two over it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She could not speak. He had no hope of changing her resolution; and
+      presently he heard Dick's voice outside, so he got up to avoid him. &ldquo;I'll
+      come again in the morning, before you go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no! no!&rdquo; she gasped. &ldquo;Unless you want me to die at your feet. I am
+      almost dead now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Reginald slipped out by the kitchen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dick came in, and found his sister leaning with her head back against the
+      wall. &ldquo;Why, Phoebe,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;whatever is the matter?&rdquo; and he took her by
+      the shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She moaned, and he felt her all limp and powerless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it, lass? Whatever is the matter? Is it about going away?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She would not speak for a long time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she did speak, it was to say something for which my male reader may
+      not be prepared. But it will not surprise the women.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O Dick&mdash;forgive me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, what for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive me, or else kill me: I don't care which.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do, though. There, I forgive you. Now what's your crime?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't go. Forgive me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't. Forgive me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm blessed if I don't believe that vagabond has been here tormenting of
+      you again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't miscall him. He is penitent. Yes, Dick, he has been here crying
+      to me&mdash;and I can't leave him. I can't&mdash;I can't. Dear Dick! you
+      are young and stout-hearted; take all the things over, and make your
+      fortune out there, and leave your poor foolish sister behind. I should
+      only fling myself into the salt sea if I left him now, and that would be
+      peace to me, but a grief to thee.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lordsake, Phoebe, don't talk so. I can't go without you. And do but
+      think, why, the horses are on board by now, and all the gear. It's my
+      belief a good hiding is all you want, to bring you to your senses; but I
+      han't the heart to give you one, worse luck. Blessed if I know what to say
+      or do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I won't go!&rdquo; cried Phoebe, turning violent all of a sudden. &ldquo;No, not if I
+      am dragged to the ship by the hair of my head. Forgive me!&rdquo; And with that
+      word she was a mouse again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh, but women are kittle cattle to drive,&rdquo; said poor Dick ruefully. And
+      down he sat at a nonplus, and very unhappy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe sat opposite, sullen, heart-sick, wretched to the core; but
+      determined not to leave Reginald.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then came an event that might have been foreseen, yet it took them both by
+      surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A light step was heard, and a graceful, though seedy, figure entered the
+      room with a set speech in his mouth: &ldquo;Phoebe, you are right. I owe it to
+      your long and faithful affection to make a sacrifice for you. I will go to
+      Africa with you. I will go to the end of the world, sooner than you shall
+      say I care for any woman on earth but you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Both brother and sister were so unprepared for this, that they could
+      hardly realize it at first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe turned her great, inquiring eyes on the speaker, and it was a sight
+      to see amazement, doubt, hope, and happiness animating her features, one
+      after another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this real?&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will sail with you to-morrow, Phoebe; and I will make you a good
+      husband, if you will have me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is spoke like a man,&rdquo; said Dick. &ldquo;You take him at his word, Phoebe;
+      and if he ill-uses you out there, I'll break every bone in his skin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How dare you threaten him?&rdquo; said Phoebe. &ldquo;You had best leave the room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Out went poor Dick, with the tear in his eye at being snubbed so. While he
+      was putting up the shutters, Phoebe was making love to her pseudo
+      penitent. &ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;trust yourself to me. You don't know all
+      my love yet; for I have never been your wife, and I would not be your
+      jade; that is the only thing I ever refused you. Trust yourself to me.
+      Why, you never found happiness with others; try it with me. It shall be
+      the best day's work you ever did, going out in the ship with me. You don't
+      know how happy a loving wife can make her husband. I'll pet you out there
+      as man was never petted. And besides, it isn't for life; Dick and me will
+      soon make a fortune out there, and then I'll bring you home, and see you
+      spend it any way you like but one. Oh, how I love you! do you love me a
+      little? I worship the ground you walk on. I adore every hair of your
+      head!&rdquo; Her noble arm went round his neck in a moment, and the grandeur of
+      her passion electrified him so far that he kissed her affectionately, if
+      not quite so warmly as she did him: and so it was all settled. The maid
+      was discharged that night instead of the morning, and Reginald was to
+      occupy her bed. Phoebe went up-stairs with her heart literally on fire, to
+      prepare his sleeping-room, and so Dick and Reginald had a word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say, Dick, how long will this voyage be?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Two months, sir, I am told.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please to cast your eyes on this suit of mine. Don't you think it is
+      rather seedy&mdash;to go to Africa with? Why, I shall disgrace you on
+      board the ship. I say, Dick, lend me three sovs., just to buy a new suit
+      at the slop-shop.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, brother-in-law,&rdquo; said Dick, &ldquo;I don't see any harm in that. I'll go
+      and fetch them for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      What does this sensible Dick do but go up-stairs to Phoebe, and say, &ldquo;He
+      wants three pounds to buy a suit; am I to lend it him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe was shaking and patting her penitent's pillow. She dropped it on
+      the bed in dismay. &ldquo;Oh, Dick, not for all the world! Why, if he had three
+      sovereigns, he'd desert me at the water's edge. Oh, God help me, how I
+      love him! God forgive me, how I mistrust him! Good Dick! kind Dick! say we
+      have suits of clothes, and we'll fit him like a prince, as he ought to be,
+      on board ship; but not a shilling of money: and, my dear, don't put the
+      weight on ME. You understand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, mistress, I understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good Dick!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, all right! and then don't you snap this here good, kind Dick's nose
+      off at a word again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never. I get wild if anybody threatens him. Then I'm not myself. Forgive
+      my hasty tongue. You know I love you, dear!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, ay! you love me well enough. But seems to me your love is precious
+      like cold veal, and your love for that chap is hot roast beef.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha, ha, ha, ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, ye can laugh now, can ye?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha, ha, ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, the more of that music, the better for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, dear; but go and tell him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dick went down, and said, &ldquo;I've got no money to spare, till I get to the
+      Cape; but Phoebe has got a box full of suits, and I made her promise to
+      keep it out. She will dress you like a prince, you may be sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that is it, is it?&rdquo; said Reginald dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dick made no reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At nine o'clock they were on board the vessel; at ten she weighed anchor,
+      and a steam-vessel drew her down the river about thirty miles, then cast
+      off, and left her to the south-easterly breeze. Up went sail after sail;
+      she nodded her lofty head, and glided away for Africa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe shed a few natural tears at leaving the shores of Old England; but
+      they soon dried. She was demurely happy, watching her prize, and asking
+      herself had she really secured it, and all in a few hours?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had a prosperous voyage: were married at Cape Town, and went up the
+      country, bag and baggage, looking out for a good bargain in land. Reginald
+      was mounted on an English horse, and allowed to zigzag about, and shoot,
+      and play, while his wife and brother-in-law marched slowly with their
+      cavalcade.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What with air, exercise, wholesome food, and smiles of welcome, and
+      delicious petting, this egotist enjoyed himself finely. He admitted as
+      much. Says he, one evening to his wife, who sat by him for the pleasure of
+      seeing him feed, &ldquo;It sounds absurd; but I never was so happy in all my
+      life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At that, the celestial expression of her pastoral face, and the maternal
+      gesture with which she drew her pet's head to her queenly bosom, was a
+      picture for celibacy to gnash the teeth at.
+    </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>
+      During this period, the most remarkable things that happened to Dr. and
+      Mrs. Staines were really those which I have related as connecting them
+      with Phoebe Dale and her brother; to which I will now add that Dr. Staines
+      detailed Dick's case in a remarkable paper, entitled &ldquo;Oedema of the
+      Glottis,&rdquo; and showed how the patient had been brought back from the grave
+      by tracheotomy and artificial respiration. He received a high price for
+      this article.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To tell the truth, he was careful not to admit that it was he who had
+      opened the windpipe; so the credit of the whole operation was given to Mr.
+      Jenkyn; and this gentleman was naturally pleased, and threw a good many
+      consultation fees in Staines's way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Lucases, to his great comfort&mdash;for he had an instinctive aversion
+      to Miss Lucas&mdash;left London for Paris in August, and did not return
+      all the year.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In February he reviewed his year's work and twelve months' residence in
+      the Bijou. The pecuniary result was, outgoings, nine hundred and fifty
+      pounds; income, from fees, two hundred and eighty pounds; writing, ninety
+      pounds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He showed these figures to Mrs. Staines, and asked her if she could
+      suggest any diminution of expenditure. Could she do with less housekeeping
+      money?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, impossible! You cannot think how the servants eat; and they won't
+      touch our home-made bread.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The fools! Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, because they think it costs us less. Servants seem to me always to
+      hate the people whose bread they eat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More likely it is their vanity. Nothing that is not paid for before their
+      eyes seems good enough for them. Well, dear, the bakers will revenge us.
+      But is there any other item we could reduce? Dress?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dress! Why, I spend nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forty-five pounds this year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I shall want none next year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, Rosa, as there is nothing we can reduce, I must write more,
+      and take more fees, or we shall be in the wrong box. Only eight hundred
+      and sixty pounds left of our little capital; and, mind, we have not
+      another shilling in the world. One comfort, there is no debt. We pay ready
+      money for everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa colored a little, but said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines did his part nobly. He read; he wrote; he paced the yard. He wore
+      his old clothes in the house; he took off his new ones when he came in. He
+      was all genius, drudgery, patience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How Phoebe Dale would have valued him, co-operated with him, and petted
+      him, if she had had the good luck to be his wife!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The season came back, and with it Miss Lucas, towing a brilliant bride,
+      Mrs. Vivian, young, rich, pretty, and gay, with a waist you could span,
+      and athirst for pleasure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This lady was the first that ever made Rosa downright jealous. She seemed
+      to have everything the female heart could desire; and she was No. 1 with
+      Miss Lucas this year. Now, Rosa was No. 1 last season, and had weakly
+      imagined that was to last forever. But Miss Lucas had always a sort of
+      female flame, and it never lasted two seasons.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa did not care so very much for Miss Lucas before, except as a
+      convenient friend; but now she was mortified to tears at finding Miss
+      Lucas made more fuss with another than with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This foolish feeling spurred her to attempt a rivalry with Mrs. Vivian, in
+      the very things where rivalry was hopeless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Lucas gave both ladies tickets for a flower-show, where all the great
+      folk were to be, princes and princesses, etc.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I have nothing to wear,&rdquo; sighed Rosa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you must get something, and mind it is not pink, please; for we must
+      not clash in colors. You know I'm dark, and pink becomes me. (The selfish
+      young brute was not half so dark as Rosa.) Mine is coming from Worth's, in
+      Paris, on purpose. And this new Madame Cie, of Regent Street, has such a
+      duck of a bonnet, just come from Paris. She wanted to make me one from it;
+      but I told her I would have none but the pattern bonnet&mdash;and she
+      knows very well she can't pass a copy off on me. Let me drive you up
+      there, and you can see mine, and order one, if you like it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, thank you! let me just run and speak to my husband first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines was writing for the bare life, and a number of German books about
+      him, slaving to make a few pounds&mdash;when in comes the buoyant figure
+      and beaming face his soul delighted in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He laid down his work, to enjoy the sunbeam of love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, darling, I've only come in for a minute. We are going to a
+      flower-show on the 13th; everybody will be so beautifully dressed&mdash;especially
+      that Mrs. Vivian. I have got ten yards of beautiful blue silk in my
+      wardrobe, but that is not enough to make a whole dress&mdash;everything
+      takes so much stuff now. Madame Cie does not care to make up dresses
+      unless she finds the silk, but Miss Lucas says she thinks, to oblige a
+      friend of hers, she would do it for once in a way. You know, dear, it
+      would only take a few yards more, and it would last as a dinner-dress for
+      ever so long.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she clasped him round the neck, and leaned her head upon his
+      shoulder, and looked lovingly up in his face. &ldquo;I know you would like your
+      Rosa to look as well as Mrs. Vivian.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one ever looks as well, in my eyes, as my Rosa. There, the dress will
+      add nothing to your beauty; but go and get it, to please yourself; it is
+      very considerate of you to have chosen something of which you have ten
+      yards, already. See, dear, I'm to receive twenty pounds for this article;
+      if research was paid it ought to be a hundred. I shall add it all to your
+      allowance for dresses this year. So no debt, mind; but come to me for
+      everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two ladies drove off to Madame Cie's, a pretty shop lined with dark
+      velvet and lace draperies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the back room they were packing a lovely bridal dress, going off the
+      following Saturday to New York.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, send from America to London?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear, yes!&rdquo; exclaimed Madame Cie. &ldquo;The American ladies are excellent
+      customers. They buy everything of the best, and the most expensive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have brought a new customer,&rdquo; said Miss Lucas; &ldquo;and I want you to do a
+      great favor, and that is to match a blue silk, and make her a pretty dress
+      for the flower-show on the 13th.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Cie produced a white muslin polonaise, which she was just going to
+      send home to the Princess &mdash;&mdash;-, to be worn over mauve.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, how pretty and simple!&rdquo; exclaimed Miss Lucas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have some lace exactly like that,&rdquo; said Mrs. Staines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why don't you have a polonaise? The lace is the only expensive part,
+      the muslin is a mere nothing; and it is such a useful dress, it can be
+      worn over any silk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was agreed Madame Cie was to send for the blue silk and the lace, and
+      the dresses were to be tried on on Thursday.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On Thursday, as Rosa went gayly into Madame Cie's back room to have the
+      dresses tried on, Madame Cie said, &ldquo;You have a beautiful lace shawl, but
+      it wants arranging; in five minutes I could astonish you with what I could
+      do to that shawl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, pray do,&rdquo; said Mrs. Staines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The dressmaker kept her word. By the time the blue dress was tried on,
+      Madame Cie had, with the aid of a few pins, plaits, and a bow of blue
+      ribbon, transformed the half lace shawl into one of the smartest and
+      distingue things imaginable; but when the bill came in at Christmas, for
+      that five minutes' labor and distingue touch, she charged one pound eight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Cie then told the ladies, in an artfully confidential tone, she had
+      a quantity of black silk coming home, which she had purchased considerably
+      below cost price; and that she should like to make them each a dress&mdash;not
+      for her own sake, but theirs&mdash;as she knew they would never meet such
+      a bargain again. &ldquo;You know, Miss Lucas,&rdquo; she continued, &ldquo;we don't want our
+      money, when we know our customers. Christmas is soon enough for us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christmas is a long time off,&rdquo; thought the young wife, &ldquo;nearly ten
+      months. I think I'll have a black silk, Madame Cie; but I must not say
+      anything to the doctor about it just yet, or he might think me
+      extravagant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one can ever think a lady extravagant for buying a black silk; it's
+      such a useful dress; lasts forever&mdash;almost.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Days, weeks, and months rolled on, and with them an ever-rolling tide of
+      flower-shows, dinners, at-homes, balls, operas, lawn-parties, concerts,
+      and theatres.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Strange that in one house there should be two people who loved each other,
+      yet their lives ran so far apart, except while they were asleep: the man
+      all industry, self-denial, patience; the woman all frivolity,
+      self-indulgence, and amusement; both chained to an oar, only&mdash;one in
+      a working boat, the other in a painted galley.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman got tired first, and her charming color waned sadly. She came to
+      him for medicine to set her up. &ldquo;I feel so languid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;no medicine can do the work of wholesome food and
+      rational repose. You lack the season of all natures, sleep. Dine at home
+      three days running, and go to bed at ten.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On this the doctor's wife went to a chemist for advice. He gave her a pink
+      stimulant; and, as stimulants have two effects, viz., first to stimulate,
+      and then to weaken, this did her no lasting good. Dr. Staines cursed the
+      London season, and threatened to migrate to Liverpool.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But there was worse behind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Returning one day to his dressing-room, just after Rosa had come
+      down-stairs, he caught sight of a red stain in a wash-hand-basin. He
+      examined it; it was arterial blood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went to her directly, and expressed his anxiety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it is nothing,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing! Pray, how often has it occurred?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Once or twice. I must take your advice, and be quiet, that is all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines examined the housemaid; she lied instinctively at first, seeing he
+      was alarmed; but, being urged to tell the truth, said she had seen it
+      repeatedly, and had told the cook.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went down-stairs again, and sat down, looking wretched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear!&rdquo; said Rosa. &ldquo;What is the matter now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rosa,&rdquo; said he, very gravely, &ldquo;there are two people a woman is mad to
+      deceive&mdash;her husband and her physician. You have deceived both.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER X.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      I suspect Dr. Staines merely meant to say that she had concealed from him
+      an alarming symptom for several weeks; but she answered in a hurry, to
+      excuse herself, and let the cat out of the bag&mdash;excuse my vulgarity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was all that Mrs. Vivian's fault. She laughed at me so for not wearing
+      them; and she has a waist you can span&mdash;the wretch!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, then, you have been wearing stays clandestinely?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you know I have. Oh, what a stupid! I have let it all out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How could you do it, when you knew, by experience, it is your death?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it looks so beautiful, a tiny waist.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It looks as hideous as a Chinese foot, and, to the eye of science, far
+      more disgusting; it is the cause of so many unlovely diseases.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just tell me one thing; have you looked at Mrs. Vivian?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Minutely. I look at all your friends with great anxiety, knowing no
+      animal more dangerous than a fool. Vivian&mdash;a skinny woman, with a
+      pretty face, lovely hair, good teeth, dying eyes&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, lovely!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A sure proof of a disordered stomach&mdash;and a waist pinched in so
+      unnaturally, that I said to myself, 'Where on earth does this idiot put
+      her liver?' Did you ever read of the frog who burst, trying to swell to an
+      ox? Well, here is the rivalry reversed; Mrs. Vivian is a bag of bones in a
+      balloon; she can machine herself into a wasp; but a fine young woman like
+      you, with flesh and muscle, must kill yourself three or four times before
+      you can make your body as meagre, hideous, angular, and unnatural as
+      Vivian's. But all you ladies are mono-maniacs; one might as well talk
+      sense to a gorilla. It brought you to the edge of the grave. I saved you.
+      Yet you could go and&mdash;God grant me patience. So I suppose these
+      unprincipled women lent you their stays to deceive your husband?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. But they laughed at me so that&mdash;Oh, Christie, I'm a wretch; I
+      kept a pair at the Lucases, and a pair at Madame Cie's, and I put them on
+      now and then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you never appeared here in them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, before my tyrant? Oh no, I dared not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you took them off before you came home?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa hung her head, and said &ldquo;Yes&rdquo; in a reluctant whisper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You spent your daylight dressing. You dressed to go out; dressed again in
+      stays; dressed again without them; and all to deceive your husband, and
+      kill yourself, at the bidding of two shallow, heartless women, who would
+      dance over your grave without a pang of remorse, or sentiment of any kind,
+      since they live, like midges, ONLY TO DANCE IN THE SUN, AND SUCK SOME
+      WORKER'S BLOOD.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Christie! I'm so easily led. I am too great a fool to live. Kill me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And she kneeled down, and renewed the request, looking up in his face with
+      an expression that might have disarmed Cain ipsum.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He smiled superior. &ldquo;The question is, are you sorry you have been so
+      thoughtless?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, dear. Oh! oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you be very good to make up?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes. Only tell me how; for it does not come natural to poor me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Keep out of those women's way for the rest of the season.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bring your stays home, and allow me to do what I like with them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. Cut them in a million pieces.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Till you are recovered, you must be my patient, and go nowhere without
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is no punishment, I am sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Punishment! Am I the man to punish you? I only want to save you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, darling, it won't be the first time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; but I do hope it will be the last.&rdquo;
+     </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>
+      &ldquo;Sublata causa tollitur effectus.&rdquo; The stays being gone, and dissipation
+      moderated, Mrs. Staines bloomed again, and they gave one or two
+      unpretending little dinners at the Bijou. Dr. Staines admitted no false
+      friends to these. They never went beyond eight; five gentlemen, three
+      ladies. By this arrangement the terrible discursiveness of the fair, and
+      man's cruel disposition to work a subject threadbare, were controlled and
+      modified, and a happy balance of conversation established. Lady Cicely
+      Treherne was always invited, and always managed to come; for she said,
+      &ldquo;They were the most agweeable little paaties in London, and the host and
+      hostess both so intewesting.&rdquo; In the autumn, Staines worked double tides
+      with the pen, and found a vehicle for medical narratives in a weekly
+      magazine that did not profess medicine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This new vein put him in heart. His fees, towards the end of the year,
+      were less than last year, because there was no hundred-guinea fee; but
+      there was a marked increase in the small fees, and the unflagging pen had
+      actually earned him two hundred pounds, or nearly. So he was in good
+      spirits.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not so Mrs. Staines; for some time she had been uneasy, fretful, and like
+      a person with a weight on her mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One Sunday she said to him, &ldquo;Oh, dear, I do feel so dull. Nobody to go to
+      church with, nor yet to the Zoo.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll go with you,&rdquo; said Staines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will! To which?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To both; in for a penny, in for a pound.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So to church they went; and Staines, whose motto was &ldquo;Hoc age,&rdquo; minded his
+      book. Rosa had intervals of attention to the words, but found plenty of
+      time to study the costumes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      During the Litany in bustled Clara, the housemaid, with a white jacket on
+      so like her mistress's, that Rosa clutched her own convulsively, to see
+      whether she had not been skinned of it by some devilish sleight-of-hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No, it was on her back; but Clara's was identical.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In her excitement, Rosa pinched Staines, and with her nose, that went like
+      a water-wagtail, pointed out the malefactor. Then she whispered, &ldquo;Look!
+      How dare she? My very jacket! Earrings too, and brooches, and dresses her
+      hair like mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, never mind,&rdquo; whispered Staines. &ldquo;Sunday is her day. We have got all
+      the week to shine. There, don't look at her&mdash;'From all evil speaking,
+      lying, and slandering'&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't keep my eyes off her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Attend to the Litany. Do you know, this is really a beautiful
+      composition?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'd rather do the work fifty times over myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush! people will hear you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When they walked home after church, Staines tried to divert her from the
+      consideration of her wrongs; but no&mdash;all other topics were too flat
+      by comparison.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She mourned the hard fate of mistresses&mdash;unfortunate creatures that
+      could not do without servants.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is not that a confession that servants are good, useful creatures, with
+      all their faults? Then as to the mania for dress, why, that is not
+      confined to them. It is the mania of the sex. Are you free from it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, of course not. But I am a lady, if you please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then she is your intellectual inferior, and more excusable. Anyway, it is
+      wise to connive at a thing we can't help.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What keep her, after this? no, never.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear, pray do not send her away, for she is tidy in the house, and
+      quick, and better than any one we have had this last six months; and you
+      know you have tried a great number.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To hear you speak, one would think it was my fault that we have so many
+      bad servants.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never said it was your fault; but I THINK, dearest, a little more
+      forbearance in trifles&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Trifles! trifles&mdash;for a mistress and maid to be seen dressed alike
+      in the same church? You take the servants' part against me, that you do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You should not say that, even in jest. Come now, do you really think a
+      jacket like yours can make the servant look like you, or detract from your
+      grace and beauty? There is a very simple way; put your jacket by for a
+      future occasion, and wear something else in its stead at church.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A nice thing, indeed, to give in to these creatures. I won't do it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why won't you, this once?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I won't&mdash;there!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is unanswerable,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Staines said that; but when it came to acting, she deferred to her
+      husband's wish; she resigned her intention of sending for Clara and giving
+      her warning. On the contrary, when Clara let her in, and the white jackets
+      rubbed together in the narrow passage, she actually said nothing, but
+      stalked to her own room, and tore her jacket off, and flung it on the
+      floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Unfortunately, she was so long dressing for the Zoo, that Clara came in to
+      arrange the room. She picks up the white jacket, takes it in both hands,
+      gives it a flap, and proceeds to hang it up in the wardrobe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the great feminine heart burst its bounds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can leave that alone. I shall not wear that again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon ensued an uneven encounter, Clara being one of those of whom the
+      Scripture says, &ldquo;The poison of asps is under their tongues.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La, ma'am,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;why, 'tain't so very dirty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; but it is too common.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, because I've got one like it. Ay. Missises can't abide a good-looking
+      servant, nor to see 'em dressed becoming.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mistresses do not like servants to forget their place, nor wear what does
+      not become their situation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My situation! Why, I can pay my way, go where I will. I don't tremble at
+      the tradesmen's knock, as some do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Leave the room! Leave it this moment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Leave the room, yes&mdash;and I'll leave the house too, and tell all the
+      neighbors what I know about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She flounced out and slammed the door; and Rosa sat down, trembling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Clara rushed to the kitchen, and there told the cook and Andrew Pearman
+      how she had given it to the mistress, and every word she had said to her,
+      with a good many more she had not.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cook laughed and encouraged her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Andrew Pearman was wroth, and said, &ldquo;You to affront our mistress like
+      that! Why, if I had heard you, I'd have twisted your neck for ye.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would take a better man than you to do that. You mind your own
+      business. Stick to your one-horse chay.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'm not above my place, for that matter. But you gals must always
+      be aping your betters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have got a proper pride, that is all, and you haven't. You ought to be
+      ashamed of yourself to do two men's work; drive a brougham and wait on a
+      horse, and then come in and wait at table, You are a tea-kettle groom,
+      that is what you are. Why, my brother was coachman to Lord Fitz-James, and
+      gave his lordship notice the first time he had to drive the children. Says
+      he, 'I don't object to the children, my lord, but with her ladyship in the
+      carriage.' It's such servants as you as spoil places. No servant as knows
+      what's due to a servant ought to know you. They'd scorn your 'quaintance,
+      as I do, Mr. Pearman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a stuck-up hussy, and a soldier's jade,&rdquo; roared Andrew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you are a low tea-kettle groom.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This expression wounded the great equestrian soul to the quick; the rest
+      of Sunday he pondered on it; the next morning he drove the doctor, as
+      usual, but with a heavy heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime, the cook made haste and told the baker Pearman had &ldquo;got it hot&rdquo;
+       from the housemaid, and she had called him a tea-kettle groom; and in less
+      than half an hour after that it was in every stable in the mews. Why, as
+      Pearman was taking the horse out of the brougham, didn't two little
+      red-headed urchins call out, &ldquo;Here, come and see the tea-kettle groom!&rdquo;
+       and at night some mischievous boy chalked on the black door of the stable
+      a large white tea-kettle, and next morning a drunken, idle fellow, with a
+      clay pipe in his mouth, and a dirty pair of corduroy trousers, no coat,
+      but a shirt very open at the chest, showing inflamed skin, the effect of
+      drink, inspected that work of art with blinking eyes and vacillating toes,
+      and said, &ldquo;This comes of a chap doing too much. A few more like you, and
+      work would be scarce. A fine thing for gentlefolks to make one man fill
+      two places! but it ain't the gentlefolks' fault, it's the man as humors
+      'em.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Pearman was a peaceable man, and made no reply, but went on with his work;
+      only during the day he told his master that he should be obliged to him if
+      he would fill his situation as soon as convenient.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The master inquired the cause, and the man told him, and said the mews was
+      too hot for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor offered him five pounds a year more, knowing he had a treasure;
+      but Pearman said, with sadness and firmness, that he had made up his mind
+      to go, and go he would.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor's heart fairly sank at the prospect of losing the one creature
+      he could depend upon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next Sunday evening Clara was out, and fell in with friends, to whom she
+      exaggerated her grievance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then they worked her up to fury, after the manner of servants' FRIENDS.
+      She came home, packed her box, brought it down, and then flounced into the
+      room to Doctor and Mrs. Staines, and said, &ldquo;I shan't sleep another night
+      in this house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa was about to speak, but Dr. Staines forbade her: he said, &ldquo;You had
+      better think twice of that. You are a good servant, though for once you
+      have been betrayed into speaking disrespectfully. Why forfeit your
+      character, and three weeks' wages?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't care for my wages. I won't stay in such a house as this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, you must not be impertinent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't mean to, sir,&rdquo; said she, lowering her voice suddenly; then,
+      raising it as suddenly, &ldquo;There are my keys, ma'am, and you can search my
+      box.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Staines will not search your box; and you will retire at once to
+      your own part of the house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll go farther than that,&rdquo; said she, and soon after the street door was
+      slammed; the Bijou shook.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At six o'clock next morning, she came for her box. It had been put away
+      for safety. Pearman told her she must wait till the doctor came down. She
+      did not wait, but went at eleven A.M. to a police-magistrate, and took out
+      a summons against Dr. Staines, for detaining a box containing certain
+      articles specified&mdash;value under fifteen pounds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Dr. Staines heard she had been for her box, but left no address, he
+      sent Pearman to hunt for her. He could not find her. She avoided the
+      house, but sent a woman for her diurnal love letters. Dr. Staines sent the
+      woman back to fetch her. She came, received her box, her letters, and the
+      balance of her wages, which was small, for Staines deducted the three
+      weeks' wages.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Two days afterwards, to his surprise, the summons was served.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Out of respect for a court of justice, however humble, Dr. Staines
+      attended next Monday to meet the summons.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The magistrate was an elderly man, with a face shaped like a hog's, but
+      much richer in color, being purple and pimply; so foul a visage Staines
+      had rarely seen, even in the lowest class of the community.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Clara swore that her box had been opened, and certain things stolen out of
+      it; and that she had been refused the box next morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines swore that he had never opened the box, and that, if any one else
+      had, it was with her consent, for she had left the keys for that purpose.
+      He bade the magistrate observe that if a servant went away like this, and
+      left no address, she put it out of the master's POWER to send her box
+      after her; and he proved he had some trouble to force the box on her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The pig-faced beak showed a manifest leaning towards the servant, but
+      there wasn't a leg to stand on; and he did not believe, nor was it
+      credible, that anything had been stolen out of her box.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment, Pearman, sent by Rosa, entered the court with an old gown
+      of Clara's that had been discovered in the scullery, and a scribbling-book
+      of the doctor's, which Clara had appropriated, and written amorous verses
+      in, very superior&mdash;in number&mdash;to those that have come down to us
+      from Anacreon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hand me those,&rdquo; said the pig-faced beak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are they, Dr. Staines?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I really don't know. I must ask my servant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, more things of mine that have been detained,&rdquo; said Clara.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some things that have been found since she left,&rdquo; said Staines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! those that hide know where to find.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Young woman,&rdquo; said Staines, &ldquo;do not insult those whose bread you have
+      eaten, and who have given you many presents besides your wages. Since you
+      are so ready to accuse people of stealing, permit me to say that this book
+      is mine, and not yours; and yet, you see, it is sent after you because you
+      have written your trash in it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The purple, pig-faced beak went instantly out of the record, and wasted a
+      deal of time reading Clara's poetry, and trying to be witty. He raised the
+      question whose book this was. The girl swore that it WAS given her by a
+      lady who was now in Rome. Staines swore he bought it of a certain
+      stationer, and happening to have his passbook in his pocket, produced an
+      entry corresponding with the date of the book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The pig-faced beak said that the doctor's was an improbable story, and
+      that the gown and the book were quite enough to justify the summons.
+      Verdict, one guinea costs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, because two things she never demanded have been found and sent
+      after her? This is monstrous. I shall appeal to your superiors.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you are impertinent I'll fine you five pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, sir. Now hear me: if this is an honest judgment, I pray God I
+      may be dead before the year's out; and, if it isn't, I pray God you may
+      be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the pig-faced beak fired up, and threatened to fine him for
+      blaspheming.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He deigned no reply, but paid the guinea, and Clara swept out of the
+      court, with a train a yard long, and leaning on the arm of a scarlet
+      soldier who avenged Dr. Staines with military promptitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher went home raging internally, for hitherto he had never seen so
+      gross a case of injustice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One of his humble patients followed him, and said, &ldquo;I wish I had known,
+      sir; you shouldn't have come here to be insulted. Why, no gentleman can
+      ever get justice against a servant girl when HE is sitting. It is
+      notorious, and that makes these hussies so bold. I've seen that jade here
+      with the same story twice afore.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines reached home more discomposed than he could have himself believed.
+      The reason was that barefaced injustice in a court of justice shook his
+      whole faith in man. He opened the street door with his latch-key, and
+      found two men standing in the passage. He inquired what they wanted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir,&rdquo; said one of them, civilly enough, &ldquo;we only want our due.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For goods delivered at this house, sir. Balance of account.&rdquo; And he
+      handed him a butcher's bill, L88, 11s. 5 1/2d.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must be mistaken; we run no bills here. We pay ready money for
+      everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir,&rdquo; said the butcher, &ldquo;there have been payments; but the balance
+      has always been gaining; and we have been put off so often, we determined
+      to see the master. Show you the books, sir, and welcome.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This instant, if you please.&rdquo; He took the butcher's address, who then
+      retired, and the other tradesman, a grocer, told him a similar tale;
+      balance, sixty pounds odd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went to the butcher's, sick at heart, inspected the books, and saw
+      that, right or wrong, they were incontrovertible; that debt had been
+      gaining slowly, but surely, almost from the time he confided the accounts
+      to his wife. She had kept faith with him about five weeks, no more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The grocer's books told a similar tale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The debtor put his hand to his heart, and stood a moment. The very grocer
+      pitied him, and said, &ldquo;There's no harry, doctor; a trifle on account, if
+      settlement in full not convenient just now. I see you have been kept in
+      the dark.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; said Christopher; &ldquo;I'll pay every shilling.&rdquo; He gave one gulp,
+      and hurried away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the fishmonger's, the same story, only for a smaller amount.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A bill of nineteen pounds at the very pastrycook's; a place she had
+      promised him, as her physician, never to enter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the draper's, thirty-seven pounds odd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In short, wherever she had dealt, the same system: partial payments, and
+      ever-growing debt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Remembering Madame Cie, he drove in a cab to Regent Street, and asked for
+      Mrs. Staines's account.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall I send it, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I will take it with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Edwards, make out Mrs. Staines's account, if you please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Edwards was a good while making it out; but it was ready at last. He
+      thrust it into his pocket, without daring to look at it there; but he went
+      into Verrey's, and asked for a cup of coffee, and perused the document.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The principal items were as follows:&mdash;
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     May 4.   Re-shaping and repairing elegant lace mantle,  1  8
+              Chip bonnet, feather, and flowers .  .  .  .   4  4
+     May 20.  Making and trimming blue silk dress&mdash;material
+               part found .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .   19 19
+              Five yards rich blue silk to match.  .  .  .   4  2
+     June 1.  Polonaise and jacket trimmed with lace&mdash;
+                material part found .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  17 17
+     June 8.  One black silk dress, handsomely trimmed
+                with jet guipure and lace .  .  .  .  .  .  49 18
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      A few shreds and fragments of finery, bought at odd times, swelled the
+      bill to L99 11s. 6d.&mdash;not to terrify the female mind with three
+      figures.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And let no unsophisticated young lady imagine that the trimmings, which
+      constituted three-fourths of this bill, were worth anything. The word
+      &ldquo;lace,&rdquo; in Madame Cie's bill, invariably meant machine-made trash, worth
+      tenpence a yard, but charged eighteen shillings a yard for one pennyworth
+      of work in putting it on. Where real lace was used, Madame Cie always LET
+      HER CUSTOMERS KNOW IT. Miss Lucas's bill for this year contained the two
+      following little items:&mdash;
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     Rich gros de cecile polonaise and jacket to match,
+       trimmed with Chantilly lace and valenciennes .  .  .  68 5
+     Superb robe de chambre, richly trimmed with skunk fur.  40 0
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      The customer found the stuff; viz., two shawls. Carolina found the nasty
+      little pole-cats, and got twenty-four shillings for them; Madame Cie found
+      THE REST.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Christopher Staines had not Miss Lucas's bill to compare his wife's
+      with. He could only compare the latter with their income, and with male
+      notions of common sense and reason.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went home, and into his studio, and sat down on his hard beech chair;
+      he looked round on his books and his work, and then, for the first time,
+      remembered how long and how patiently he had toiled for every hundred
+      pounds he had made; and he laid the evidences of his wife's profusion and
+      deceit by the side of those signs of painful industry and self-denial, and
+      his soul filled with bitterness. &ldquo;Deceit! deceit!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Staines heard he was in the house, and came to know about the trial.
+      She came hurriedly in, and caught him with his head on the table, in an
+      attitude of prostration, quite new to him; he raised his head directly he
+      heard her, and revealed a face, pale, stern, and wretched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! what is the matter now?&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The matter is what it has always been, if I could only have seen it. You
+      have deceived me, and disgraced yourself. Look at those bills.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What bills? Oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have had an allowance for housekeeping.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It wasn't enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was plenty, if you had kept faith with me, and paid ready money. It
+      was enough for the first five weeks. I am housekeeper now, and I shall
+      allow myself two pounds a week less, and not owe a shilling either.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, all I know is, I couldn't do it: no woman could.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, you should have come to me, and said so; and I would have shown you
+      how. Was I in Egypt, or at the North Pole, that you could not find me, to
+      treat me like a friend? You have ruined us: these debts will sweep away
+      the last shilling of our little capital; but it isn't that, oh, no! it is
+      the miserable deceit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa's eye caught the sum total of Madame Cie's bill, and she turned pale.
+      &ldquo;Oh, what a cheat that woman is!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But she turned paler when Christopher said, &ldquo;That is the one honest bill;
+      for I gave you leave. It is these that part us: these! these! Look at
+      them, false heart! There, go and pack up your things. We can live here no
+      longer; we are ruined. I must send you back to your father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought you would, sooner or later,&rdquo; said Mrs. Staines, panting,
+      trembling, but showing a little fight. &ldquo;He told you I wasn't fit to be a
+      poor man's wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An honest man's wife, you mean: that is what you are not fit for. You
+      will go home to your father, and I shall go into some humble lodging to
+      work for you. I'll contrive to keep you, and find you a hundred a year to
+      spend in dress&mdash;the only thing your heart can really love. But I
+      won't have an enemy here in the disguise of a friend; and I won't have a
+      wife about me I must treat like a servant, and watch like a traitor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The words were harsh, but the agony with which they were spoken
+      distinguished them from vulgar vituperation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They overpowered poor Rosa; she had been ailing a little some time, and
+      from remorse and terror, coupled with other causes, nature gave way. Her
+      lips turned white, she gasped inarticulately, and, with a little piteous
+      moan, tottered, and swooned dead away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was walking wildly about, ready to tear his hair, when she tottered; he
+      saw her just in time to save her, and laid her gently on the floor, and
+      kneeled over her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Away went anger and every other feeling but love and pity for the poor,
+      weak creature that, with all her faults, was so lovable and so loved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He applied no remedies at first: he knew they were useless and
+      unnecessary. He laid her head quite low, and opened door and window, and
+      loosened all her dress, sighing deeply all the time at her condition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While he was thus employed, suddenly a strange cry broke from him: a cry
+      of horror, remorse, joy, tenderness, all combined: a cry compared with
+      which language is inarticulate. His swift and practical eye had made a
+      discovery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He kneeled over her, with his eyes dilating and his hands clasped, a
+      picture of love and tender remorse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She stirred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he made haste, and applied his remedies, and brought her slowly back
+      to life; he lifted her up, and carried her in his arms quite away from the
+      bills and things, that, when she came to, she might see nothing to revive
+      her distress. He carried her to the drawing-room, and kneeled down and
+      rocked her in his arms, and pressed her again and again gently to his
+      heart, and cried over her. &ldquo;O my dove, my dove! the tender creature God
+      gave me to love and cherish, and have I used it harshly? If I had only
+      known! if I had only known!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While he was thus bemoaning her, and blaming himself, and crying over her
+      like the rain,&mdash;he, whom she had never seen shed a tear before in all
+      his troubles,&mdash;she was coming to entirely, and her quick ears caught
+      his words, and she opened her lovely eyes on him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I forgive you, dear,&rdquo; she said feebly. &ldquo;BUT I HOPE YOU WILL BE A KINDER
+      FATHER THAN A HUSBAND.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      These quiet words, spoken with rare gravity and softness, went through the
+      great heart like a knife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave a sort of shiver, but said not a word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But that night he made a solemn vow to God that no harsh word from his
+      lips should ever again strike a being so weak, so loving, and so beyond
+      his comprehension. Why look for courage and candor in a creature so timid
+      and shy, she could not even tell her husband THAT until, with her subtle
+      sense, she saw he had discovered it?
+    </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>
+      To be a father; to have an image of his darling Rosa, and a fruit of their
+      love to live and work for: this gave the sore heart a heavenly glow, and
+      elasticity to bear. Should this dear object be born to an inheritance of
+      debt, of poverty? Never.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He began to act as if he was even now a father. He entreated Rosa not to
+      trouble or vex herself; he would look into their finances, and set all
+      straight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He paid all the bills, and put by a quarter's rent and taxes. Then there
+      remained of his little capital just ten pounds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went to his printers, and had a thousand order-checks printed. These
+      forms ran thus:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Staines, of 13 Dear Street, Mayfair (blank for date), orders of
+      (blank here for tradesman and goods ordered), for cash. Received same time
+      (blank for tradesman's receipt). Notice: Dr. Staines disowns all orders
+      not printed on this form, and paid for at date of order.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He exhibited these forms, and warned all the tradespeople, before a
+      witness whom he took round for that purpose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He paid off Pearman on the spot. Pearman had met Clara, dressed like a
+      pauper, her soldier having emptied her box to the very dregs, and he now
+      offered to stay. But it was too late.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines told the cook Mrs. Staines was in delicate health, and must not be
+      troubled with anything. She must come to him for all orders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; said she. But she no sooner comprehended the check system
+      fully than she gave warning. It put a stop to her wholesale pilfering.
+      Rosa's cooks had made fully a hundred pounds out of her amongst them since
+      she began to keep accounts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Under the male housekeeper every article was weighed on delivery, and this
+      soon revealed that the butcher and the fishmonger had habitually delivered
+      short weight from the first, besides putting down the same thing twice.
+      The things were sent back that moment, with a printed form, stating the
+      nature and extent of the fraud.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The washerwoman, who had been pilfering wholesale so long as Mrs. Staines
+      and her sloppy-headed maids counted the linen, and then forgot it, was
+      brought up with a run, by triplicate forms, and by Staines counting the
+      things before two witnesses, and compelling the washerwoman to count them
+      as well, and verify or dispute on the spot. The laundress gave warning&mdash;a
+      plain confession that stealing had been part of her trade.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He kept the house well for three pounds a week, exclusive of coals,
+      candles, and wine. His wife had had five pounds, and whatever she asked
+      for dinner-parties, yet found it not half enough upon her method.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He kept no coachman. If he visited a patient, a man in the yard drove him
+      at a shilling per hour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By these means, and by working like a galley slave, he dragged his
+      expenditure down almost to a level with his income.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa was quite content at first, and thought herself lucky to escape
+      reproaches on such easy terms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But by and by so rigorous a system began to gall her. One day she fancied
+      a Bath bun; sent the new maid to the pastry-cook's. Pastry-cook asked to
+      see the doctor's order. Maid could not show it, and came back bunless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa came into the study to complain to her husband.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A Bath bun,&rdquo; said Staines. &ldquo;Why, they are colored with annotto, to save
+      an egg, and annotto is adulterated with chromates that are poison.
+      Adulteration upon adulteration. I'll make you a real Bath bun.&rdquo; Off coat,
+      and into the kitchen, and made her three, pure, but rather heavy. He
+      brought them her in due course. She declined them languidly. She was off
+      the notion, as they say in Scotland.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I can't have a thing when I want it, I don't care for it at all.&rdquo; Such
+      was the principle she laid down for his future guidance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sighed, and went back to his work; she cleared the plate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day, when she asked for the carriage, he told her the time was now
+      come for her to leave off carriage exercise. She must walk with him every
+      day, instead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I don't like walking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry for that. But it is necessary to you, and by and by your life
+      may depend on it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Quietly, but inexorably, he dragged her out walking every day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In one of these walks she stopped at a shop window, and fell in love with
+      some baby's things. &ldquo;Oh! I must have that,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;I must. I shall die
+      if I don't; you'll see now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You shall,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;when I can pay for it,&rdquo; and drew her away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The tears of disappointment stood in her eyes, and his heart yearned over
+      her. But he kept his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He changed the dinner hour to six, and used to go out directly afterwards.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She began to complain of his leaving her alone like that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but wait a bit,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;suppose I am making a little money by
+      it, to buy you something you have set your heart on, poor darling!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In a very few days after this, he brought her a little box with a slit in
+      it. He shook it, and money rattled; then he unlocked it, and poured out a
+      little pile of silver. &ldquo;There,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;put on your bonnet, and come and
+      buy those things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She put on her bonnet, and on the way she asked how it came to be all in
+      silver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a puzzler,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;isn't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how did you make it, dear? by writing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By fees from the poor people?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, undersell my brethren! Hang it, no! My dear, I made it honestly,
+      and some day I will tell you how I made it; at present, all I will tell
+      you is this: I saw my darling longing for something she had a right to
+      long for; I saw the tears in her sweet eyes, and&mdash;oh, come along, do.
+      I am wretched till I see you with the things in your hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They went to the shop; and Staines sat and watched Rosa buying
+      baby-clothes. Oh, it was a pretty sight to see this modest young creature,
+      little more than a child herself, anticipating maternity, but blushing
+      every now and then, and looking askant at her lord and master. How his
+      very bowels yearned over her!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And when they got home, she spread the things on a table, and they sat
+      hand in hand, and looked at them, and she leaned her head on his shoulder,
+      and went quietly to sleep there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And yet, as time rolled on, she became irritable at times, and impatient,
+      and wanted all manner of things she could not have, and made him unhappy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he was out from six o'clock till one, and she took it into her head
+      to be jealous. So many hours to spend away from her! Now that she wanted
+      all his comfort.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently, Ellen, the new maid, got gossiping in the yard, and a groom
+      told her her master had a sweetheart on the sly, he thought; for he drove
+      the brougham out every evening himself; &ldquo;and,&rdquo; said the man, &ldquo;he wears a
+      mustache at night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ellen ran in, brimful of this, and told the cook; the cook told the
+      washerwoman; the washerwoman told a dozen families, till about two hundred
+      people knew it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last it came to Mrs. Staines in a roundabout way, at the very moment
+      when she was complaining to Lady Cicely Treherne of her hard lot. She had
+      been telling her she was nothing more than a lay-figure in the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My husband is housekeeper now, and cook, and all, and makes me delicious
+      dishes, I can tell you; SUCH curries! I couldn't keep the house with five
+      pounds a week, so now he does it with three: and I never get the carriage,
+      because walking is best for me; and he takes it out every night to make
+      money. I don't understand it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Cicely suggested that perhaps Dr. Staines thought it best for her to
+      be relieved of all worry, and so undertook the housekeeping.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, no,&rdquo; said Rosa; &ldquo;I used to pay them all a part of their bills,
+      and then a little more, and so I kept getting deeper; and I was ashamed to
+      tell Christie, so that he calls deceit; and oh, he spoke to me so cruelly
+      once! But he was very sorry afterwards, poor dear! Why are girls brought
+      up so silly? all piano, and no sense; and why are men sillier still to go
+      and marry such silly things? A wife! I am not so much as a servant. Oh, I
+      am finely humiliated, and,&rdquo; with a sudden hearty naivete all her own, &ldquo;it
+      serves me just right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While Lady Cicely was puzzling this out, in came a letter. Rosa opened it,
+      read it, and gave a cry like a wounded deer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;I am a miserable woman. What will become of me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The letter informed her bluntly that her husband drove his brougham out
+      every night to pursue a criminal amour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While Rosa was wringing her hands in real anguish of heart, Lady Cicely
+      read the letter carefully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't believe this,&rdquo; said she quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not true! Why, who would be so wicked as to stab a poor, inoffensive
+      wretch like me, if it wasn't true?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The first ugly woman would, in a minute. Don't you see the witer can't
+      tell you where he goes? Dwives his bwougham out! That is all your
+      infaumant knows.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my dear friend, bless you! What have I been complaining to you about?
+      All is light, except to lose his love. What shall I do? I will never tell
+      him. I will never affront him by saying I suspected him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wosa, if you do that, you will always have a serpent gnawing you. No; you
+      must put the letter quietly into his hand, and say, 'Is there any truth in
+      that?'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I could not. I haven't the courage. If I do that, I shall know by his
+      face if there is any truth in it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, and you must know the twuth. You shall know it. I want to know it
+      too; for if he does not love you twuly, I will nevaa twust myself to
+      anything so deceitful as a man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa at last consented to follow this advice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After dinner she put the letter into Christopher's hand, and asked him
+      quietly was there any truth in that: then her hands trembled, and her eyes
+      drank him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher read it, and frowned; then he looked up, and said, &ldquo;No, not a
+      word. What scoundrels there are in the world! To go and tell you that,
+      NOW! Why, you little goose! have you been silly enough to believe it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said she irresolutely. &ldquo;But DO you drive the brougham out every
+      night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Except Sunday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear wife, I never loved you as I love you now; and if it was not for
+      you, I should not drive the brougham out of nights. That is all I shall
+      tell you at present; but some day I'll tell you all about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took such a calm high hand with her about it, that she submitted to
+      leave it there; but from this moment the serpent doubt nibbled her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It had one curious effect, though. She left off complaining of trifles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now it happened one night that Lady Cicely Treherne and a friend were at a
+      concert in Hanover Square. The other lady felt rather faint, and Lady
+      Cicely offered to take her home. The carriages had not yet arrived, and
+      Miss Macnamara said to walk a few steps would do her good: a smart cabman
+      saw them from a distance and drove up, and touching his hat said, &ldquo;Cab,
+      ladies?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed a very superior cab, and Miss Macnamara said &ldquo;Yes&rdquo; directly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cabman bustled down and opened the door; Miss Macnamara got in first,
+      then Lady Cicely; her eye fell on the cabman's face, which was lighted
+      full by a street-lamp, and it was Christopher Staines!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He started and winced; but the woman of the world never moved a muscle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where to?&rdquo; said Staines, averting his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She told him where, and when they got out, said, &ldquo;I'll send it you by the
+      servant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A flunkey soon after appeared with half-a-crown, and the amateur coachman
+      drove away. He said to himself, &ldquo;Come, my mustache is a better disguise
+      than I thought.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day, and the day after, he asked Rosa, with affected carelessness,
+      had she heard anything of Lady Cicely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, dear; but I dare say she will call this afternoon: it is her day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did call at last, and after a few words with Rosa, became a little
+      restless, and asked if she might consult Dr. Staines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly, dear. Come to his studio.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; might I see him here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly.&rdquo; She rang the bell, and told the servant to ask Dr. Staines if
+      he would be kind enough to step into the drawing-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines came in, and bowed to Lady Cicely, and eyed her a little
+      uncomfortably.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She began, however, in a way that put him quite at his ease. &ldquo;You remember
+      the advice you gave us about my little cousin Tadcastah.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perfectly: his life is very precarious; he is bilious, consumptive, and,
+      if not watched, will be epileptical; and he has a fond, weak mother, who
+      will let him kill himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly: and you wecommended a sea voyage, with a medical attendant to
+      watch his diet, and contwol his habits. Well, she took other advice, and
+      the youth is worse; so now she is fwightened, and a month ago she asked me
+      to pwopose to you to sail about with Tadcastah; and she offered me a
+      thousand pounds a year. I put on my stiff look, and said, 'Countess, with
+      every desiah to oblige you, I must decline to cawwy that offah to a man of
+      genius, learning, and weputation, who has the ball at his feet in
+      London.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lord forgive you, Lady Cicely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lord bless her for standing up for my Christie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Cicely continued: &ldquo;Now, this good lady, you must know, is not exactly
+      one of us: the late earl mawwied into cotton, or wool, or something. So
+      she said, 'Name your price for him.' I shwugged my shoulders, smiled
+      affably, and as affectedly as you like, and changed the subject. But since
+      then things have happened. I am afwaid it is my duty to make you the judge
+      whether you choose to sail about with that little cub&mdash;Rosa, I can
+      beat about the bush no longer. Is it a fit thing that a man of genius, at
+      whose feet we ought all to be sitting with reverence, should drive a cab
+      in the public streets? Yes, Rosa Staines, your husband drives his brougham
+      out at night, not to visit any other lady, as that anonymous wretch told
+      you, but to make a few misewable shillings for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Christie!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is no use, Dr. Staines; I must and will tell her. My dear, he drove ME
+      three nights ago. He had a cabman's badge on his poor arm. If you knew
+      what I suffered in those five minutes! Indeed it seems cruel to speak of
+      it&mdash;but I could not keep it from Rosa, and the reason I muster
+      courage to say it before you, sir, it is because I know she has other
+      friends who keep you out of their consultations; and, after all, it is the
+      world that ought to blush, and not you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her ladyship's kindly bosom heaved, and she wanted to cry; so she took her
+      handkerchief out of her pocket without the least hurry, and pressed it
+      delicately to her eyes, and did cry quietly, but without any disguise,
+      like a brave lady, who neither cried nor did anything else she was ashamed
+      to be seen at.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for Rosa, she sat sobbing round Christopher's neck, and kissed him with
+      all her soul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear me!&rdquo; said Christopher. &ldquo;You are both very kind. But, begging your
+      pardon, it is much ado about nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Cicely took no notice of that observation. &ldquo;So, Rosa dear,&rdquo; said she,
+      &ldquo;I think you are the person to decide whether he had not better sail about
+      with that little cub, than&mdash;oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will settle that,&rdquo; said Staines. &ldquo;I have one beloved creature to
+      provide for. I may have another. I MUST make money. Turning a brougham
+      into a cab, whatever you may think, is an honest way of making it, and I
+      am not the first doctor who has coined his brougham at night. But if there
+      is a good deal of money to be made by sailing with Lord Tadcaster, of
+      course I should prefer that to cab-driving, for I have never made above
+      twelve shillings a night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, as to that, she shall give you fifteen hundred a year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I jump at it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! and leave ME?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, love: leave you&mdash;for your good; and only for a time. Lady
+      Cicely, it is a noble offer. My darling Rosa will have every comfort&mdash;ay,
+      every luxury, till I come home, and then we will start afresh with a good
+      balance, and with more experience than we did at first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Cicely gazed on him with wonder. She said, &ldquo;Oh! what stout hearts men
+      have! No, no; don't let him go. See; he is acting. His great heart is torn
+      with agony. I will have no hand in parting man and wife&mdash;no, not for
+      a day.&rdquo; And she hurried away in rare agitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa fell on her knees, and asked Christopher's pardon for having been
+      jealous; and that day she was a flood of divine tenderness. She repaid him
+      richly for driving the cab. But she was unnaturally cool about Lady
+      Cicely; and the exquisite reason soon came out. &ldquo;Oh yes! She is very good;
+      very kind; but it is not for me now! No! you shall not sail about with her
+      cub of a cousin, and leave me at such a time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher groaned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christie, you shall not see that lady again. She came here to part us.
+      SHE IS IN LOVE WITH YOU. I was blind not to see it before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day, as Lady Cicely sat alone in the morning-room thinking over this
+      very scene, a footman brought in a card and a note. &ldquo;Dr. Staines begs
+      particularly to see Lady Cicely Treherne.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The lady's pale cheek colored; she stood irresolute a single moment. &ldquo;I
+      will see Dr. Staines,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines came in, looking pale and worn; he had not slept a wink since
+      she saw him last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at him full, and divined this at a glance. She motioned him to
+      a seat, and sat down herself, with her white hand pressing her forehead,
+      and her head turned a little away from him.
+    </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>
+      He told her he had come to thank her for her great kindness, and to accept
+      the offer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She sighed. &ldquo;I hoped it was to decline it. Think of the misery of
+      separation, both to you and her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will be misery. But we are not happy as it is, and she cannot bear
+      poverty. Nor is it fair she should, when I can give her every comfort by
+      just playing the man for a year or two.&rdquo; He then told Lady Cicely there
+      were more reasons than he chose to mention: go he must, and would; and he
+      implored her not to let the affair drop. In short, he was sad but
+      resolved, and she found she must go on with it, or break faith with him.
+      She took her desk, and wrote a letter concluding the bargain for him. She
+      stipulated for half the year's fee in advance. She read Dr. Staines the
+      letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You ARE a friend!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I should never have ventured on that; it
+      will be a godsend to my poor Rosa. You will be kind to her when I am
+      gone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So will Uncle Philip, I think. I will see him before I go, and shake
+      hands. He has been a good friend to me; but he was too hard upon HER; and
+      I could not stand that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he thanked and blessed her again, with the tears in his eyes, and
+      left her more disturbed and tearful than she had ever been since she grew
+      to woman. &ldquo;O cruel poverty!&rdquo; she thought, &ldquo;that such a man should be torn
+      from his home, and thank me for doing it&mdash;all for a little money&mdash;and
+      here are we poor commonplace creatures rolling in it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines hurried home, and told his wife. She clung to him convulsively,
+      and wept bitterly; but she made no direct attempt to shake his resolution;
+      she saw, by his iron look, that she could only afflict, not turn him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day came Lady Cicely to see her. Lady Cicely was very uneasy in her
+      mind, and wanted to know whether Rosa was reconciled to the separation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa received her with a forced politeness and an icy coldness that
+      petrified her. She could not stay long in face of such a reception. At
+      parting, she said, sadly, &ldquo;You look on me as an enemy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What else can you expect, when you part my husband and me?&rdquo; said Rosa,
+      with quiet sternness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I meant well,&rdquo; said Lady Cicely sorrowfully; &ldquo;but I wish I had never
+      interfered.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So do I,&rdquo; and she began to cry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Cicely made no answer. She went quietly away, hanging her head sadly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa was unjust, but she was not rude nor vulgar; and Lady Cicely's temper
+      was so well governed that it never blinded her heart. She withdrew, but
+      without the least idea of quarrelling with her afflicted friend, or
+      abandoning her. She went quietly home, and wrote to Lady &mdash;&mdash;,
+      to say that she should be glad to receive Dr. Staines's advance as soon as
+      convenient, since Mrs. Staines would have to make fresh arrangements, and
+      the money might be useful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The money was forthcoming directly. Lady Cicely brought it to Dear Street,
+      and handed it to Dr. Staines. His eyes sparkled at the sight of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give my love to Rosa,&rdquo; said she softly, and cut her visit very short.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines took the money to Rosa, and said, &ldquo;See what our best friend has
+      brought us. You shall have four hundred, and I hope, after the bitter
+      lessons you have had, you will be able to do with that for some months.
+      The two hundred I shall keep as a reserve fund for you to draw on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no!&rdquo; said Rosa. &ldquo;I shall go and live with my father, and never spend
+      a penny. O Christie, if you knew how I hate myself for the folly that is
+      parting us! Oh, why don't they teach girls sense and money, instead of
+      music and the globes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Christopher opened a banking account for her, and gave her a
+      check-book, and entreated her to pay everything by check, and run no bills
+      whatever; and she promised. He also advertised the Bijou, and put a bill
+      in the window: &ldquo;The lease of this house, and the furniture, to be sold.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa cried bitterly at sight of it, thinking how high in hope they were,
+      when they had their first dinner there, and also when she went to her
+      first sale to buy the furniture cheap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now everything moved with terrible rapidity. The Amphitrite was to
+      sail from Plymouth in five days; and, meantime, there was so much to be
+      done, that the days seemed to gallop away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines forgot nothing. He made his will in duplicate, leaving all to
+      his wife; he left one copy at Doctors' Commons and another with his
+      lawyer; inventoried all his furniture and effects in duplicate, too; wrote
+      to Uncle Philip, and then called on him to seek a reconciliation.
+      Unfortunately, Dr. Philip was in Scotland. At last this sad pair went down
+      to Plymouth together, there to meet Lord Tadcaster and go on board H.M.S.
+      Amphitrite, lying out at anchor, under orders for the Australian Station.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They met at the inn, as appointed; and sent word of their arrival on board
+      the frigate, asking to remain on shore till the last minute.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines presented his patient to Rosa; and after a little while drew
+      him apart and questioned him professionally. He then asked for a private
+      room. Here he and Rosa really took leave; for what could the poor things
+      say to each other on a crowded quay? He begged her forgiveness, on his
+      knees, for having once spoken harshly to her, and she told him, with
+      passionate sobs, he had never spoken harshly to her; her folly it was had
+      parted them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor wretches! they clung together with a thousand vows of love and
+      constancy. They were to pray for each other at the same hours: to think of
+      some kind word or loving act, at other stated hours; and so they tried to
+      fight with their suffering minds against the cruel separation; and if
+      either should die, the other was to live wedded to memory, and never
+      listen to love from other lips; but no! God was pitiful; He would let them
+      meet again ere long, to part no more. They rocked in each other's arms;
+      they cried over each other&mdash;it was pitiful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last the cruel summons came; they shuddered, as if it was their
+      death-blow. Christopher, with a face of agony, was yet himself, and would
+      have parted then: and so best. But Rosa could not. She would see the last
+      of him, and became almost wild and violent when he opposed it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he let her come with him to Milbay Steps; but into the boat he would
+      not let her step.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The ship's boat lay at the steps, manned by six sailors, all seated, with
+      their oars tossed in two vertical rows. A smart middy in charge conducted
+      them, and Dr. Staines and Lord Tadcaster got in, leaving Rosa, in charge
+      of her maid, on the quay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shove off&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Down&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Give way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Each order was executed so swiftly and surely that, in as many seconds,
+      the boat was clear, the oars struck the water with a loud splash, and the
+      husband was shot away like an arrow, and the wife's despairing cry rang on
+      the stony quay, as many a poor woman's cry had rung before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In half a minute the boat shot under the stern of the frigate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were received on the quarter-deck by Captain Hamilton: he introduced
+      them to the officers&mdash;a torture to poor Staines, to have his mind
+      taken for a single instant from his wife&mdash;the first lieutenant came
+      aft, and reported, &ldquo;Ready for making sail, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines seized the excuse, rushed to the other side of the vessel, leaned
+      over the taffrail, as if he would fly ashore, and stretched out his hands
+      to his beloved Rosa; and she stretched out her hands to him. They were so
+      near, he could read the expression of her face. It was wild and troubled,
+      as one who did not yet realize the terrible situation, but would not be
+      long first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;HANDS MAKE SAIL&mdash;AWAY, ALOFT&mdash;UP ANCHOR&rdquo;&mdash;rang in
+      Christopher's ear, as if in a dream. All his soul and senses were bent on
+      that desolate young creature. How young and amazed her lovely face! Yet
+      this bewildered child was about to become a mother. Even a stranger's
+      heart might have yearned with pity for her: how much more her miserable
+      husband's!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The capstan was manned, and worked to a merry tune that struck chill to
+      the bereaved; yards were braced for casting, anchor hove, catted, and
+      fished, sail was spread with amazing swiftness, the ship's head dipped,
+      and slowly and gracefully paid off towards the breakwater, and she stood
+      out to sea under swiftly-swelling canvas and a light north-westerly
+      breeze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines only felt the motion: his body was in the ship, his soul with his
+      Rosa. He gazed, he strained his eyes to see her eyes, as the ship glided
+      from England and her. While he was thus gazing and trembling all over, up
+      came to him a smart second lieutenant, with a brilliant voice that struck
+      him like a sword. &ldquo;Captain's orders to show you berths; please choose for
+      Lord Tadcaster and yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man's wild answer made the young officer stare. &ldquo;Oh, sir! not now&mdash;try
+      and do my duty when I have quite lost her&mdash;my poor wife&mdash;a child&mdash;a
+      mother&mdash;there&mdash;sir&mdash;on the steps&mdash;there!&mdash;there!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now this officer always went to sea singing &ldquo;Oh be joyful.&rdquo; But a strong
+      man's agony, who can make light of it? It was a revelation to him; but he
+      took it quickly. The first thing he did, being a man of action, was to
+      dash into his cabin, and come back with a short, powerful double glass.
+      &ldquo;There!&rdquo; said he roughly, but kindly, and shoved it into Staines's hand.
+      He took it, stared at it stupidly, then used it, without a word of thanks,
+      so wrapped was he in his anguish.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This glass prolonged the misery of that bitter hour. When Rosa could no
+      longer tell her husband from another, she felt he was really gone, and she
+      threw her hands aloft, and clasped them above her head, with the wild
+      abandon of a woman who could never again be a child; and Staines saw it,
+      and a sharp sigh burst from him, and he saw her maid and others gather
+      round her. He saw the poor young thing led away, with her head all down,
+      as he had never seen her before, and supported to the inn; and then he saw
+      her no more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His heart seemed to go out of his bosom in search of her, and leave
+      nothing but a stone behind: he hung over the taffrail like a dead thing. A
+      steady foot-fall slapped his ear. He raised his white face and filmy eyes,
+      and saw Lieutenant Fitzroy marching to and fro like a sentinel, keeping
+      everybody away from the mourner, with the steady, resolute, business-like
+      face of a man in whom sentiment is confined to action; its phrases and its
+      flourishes being literally terra incognita to the honest fellow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines staggered towards him, holding out both hands, and gasped out,
+      &ldquo;God bless you. Hide me somewhere&mdash;must not be seen SO&mdash;got duty
+      to do&mdash;Patient&mdash;can't do it yet&mdash;one hour to draw my breath&mdash;oh,
+      my God, my God!&mdash;one hour, sir. Then do my duty, if I die&mdash;as
+      you would.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fitzroy tore him down into his own cabin, shut him in and ran to the first
+      lieutenant, with a tear in his eye. &ldquo;Can I have a sentry, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sentry! What for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The doctor&mdash;awfully cut up at leaving his wife: got him in my cabin.
+      Wants to have his cry to himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fancy a fellow crying at going to sea!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not that, sir; it is leaving his wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, is he the only man on board that has got a wife?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, no, sir. It is odd, now I think of it. Perhaps he has only got that
+      ONE.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Curious creatures, landsmen,&rdquo; said the first lieutenant. &ldquo;However, you
+      can stick a marine there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I say, show the YOUNGSTER the berths, and let him choose, as the
+      doctor's aground.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So Fitzoy planted his marine, and then went after Lord Tadcaster: he had
+      drawn up alongside his cousin, Captain Hamilton. The captain, being an
+      admirer of Lady Cicely, was mighty civil to his little lordship, and
+      talked to him more than was his wont on the quarterdeck; for though he had
+      a good flow of conversation, and dispensed with ceremony in his cabin, he
+      was apt to be rather short on deck. However, he told little Tadcaster he
+      was fortunate; they had a good start, and, if the wind held, might hope to
+      be clear of the Channel in twenty-four hours. &ldquo;You will see Eddystone
+      lighthouse about four bells,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall we go out of sight of land altogether?&rdquo; inquired his lordship.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course we shall, and the sooner the better.&rdquo; He then explained to the
+      novice that the only danger to a good ship was from the land.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While Tadcaster was digesting this paradox, Captain Hamilton proceeded to
+      descant on the beauties of blue water and its fine medicinal qualities,
+      which, he said, were particularly suited to young gentlemen with bilious
+      stomachs, but presently, catching sight of Lieutenant Fitzroy standing
+      apart, but with the manner of a lieutenant not there by accident, he
+      stopped, and said, civilly but smartly, &ldquo;Well, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fitzroy came forward directly, saluted, and said he had orders from the
+      first lieutenant to show Lord Tadcaster the berths. His lordship must be
+      good enough to choose, because the doctor&mdash;couldn't.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Brought to, sir&mdash;for the present&mdash;by&mdash;well, by grief.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Brought to by grief! Who the deuce is grief? No riddles on the
+      quarter-deck, if you please, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no, sir. I assure you he is awfully cut up; and he is having his cry
+      out in my cabin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Having his cry out! why, what for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Leaving his wife, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, is that all?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I don't wonder,&rdquo; cried little Tadcaster warmly. &ldquo;She is, oh, so
+      beautiful!&rdquo; and a sudden blush o'erspread his pasty cheeks. &ldquo;Why on earth
+      didn't we bring her along with us here?&rdquo; said he, suddenly opening his
+      eyes with astonishment at the childish omission.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, indeed?&rdquo; said the captain comically, and dived below, attended by
+      the well-disciplined laughter of Lieutenant Fitzroy, who was too good an
+      officer not to be amused at his captain's jokes. Having acquitted himself
+      of that duty&mdash;and it is a very difficult one sometimes&mdash;he took
+      Lord Tadcaster to the main-deck, and showed him two comfortable
+      sleeping-berths that had been screened off for him and Dr. Staines; one of
+      these was fitted with a standing bed-place, the other had a cot swung in
+      it. Fitzroy offered him the choice, but hinted that he himself preferred a
+      cot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, thank you,&rdquo; says my lord mighty dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said Fitzroy cheerfully. &ldquo;Take the other, then, my lord.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His little lordship cocked his eye like a jackdaw, and looked almost as
+      cunning. &ldquo;You see,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I have been reading up for this voyage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, indeed! Logarithms?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, 'Peter Simple'&mdash;to be sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, ha!&rdquo; said Fitzroy, with a chuckle that showed plainly he had some
+      delicious reminiscences of youthful study in the same quarter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little lord chuckled too, and put one finger on Fitzroy's shoulder,
+      and pointed at the cot with another. &ldquo;Tumble out the other side, you know&mdash;slippery
+      hitches&mdash;cords cut&mdash;down you come flop in the middle of the
+      night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fitzroy's eye flashed merriment: but only for a moment. His countenance
+      fell the next. &ldquo;Lord bless you,&rdquo; said he sorrowfully, &ldquo;all that game is
+      over now. Her Majesty's ship!&mdash;it is a church afloat. The service is
+      going to the devil, as the old fogies say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't you sorry?&rdquo; says the little lord, cocking his eye again like the
+      bird hereinbefore mentioned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I'll take the standing bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right. I say, you don't mind the doctor coming down with a run, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is not ill: I am. He is paid to take care of me: I am not paid to take
+      care of him,&rdquo; said the young lord sententiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I understand,&rdquo; replied Fitzroy, dryly. &ldquo;Well, every one for himself, and
+      Providence for us all&mdash;as the elephant said when he danced among the
+      chickens.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here my lord was summoned to dine with the captain. Staines was not there;
+      but he had not forgotten his duty; in the midst of his grief he had
+      written a note to the captain, hoping that a bereaved husband might not
+      seem to desert his post if he hid for a few hours the sorrow he felt
+      himself unable to control. Meantime he would be grateful if Captain
+      Hamilton would give orders that Lord Tadcaster should eat no pastry, and
+      drink only six ounces of claret, otherwise he should feel that he was
+      indeed betraying his trust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain was pleased and touched with this letter. It recalled to him
+      how his mother sobbed when she launched her little middy, swelling with
+      his first cocked hat and dirk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was champagne at dinner, and little Tadcaster began to pour out a
+      tumbler. &ldquo;Hold on!&rdquo; said Captain Hamilton; &ldquo;you are not to drink that;&rdquo;
+       and he quietly removed the tumbler. &ldquo;Bring him six ounces of claret.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While they were weighing the claret with scientific precision, Tadcaster
+      remonstrated; and, being told it was the doctor's order, he squeaked out,
+      &ldquo;Confound him! why did not he stay with his wife? She is beautiful.&rdquo; Nor
+      did he give it up without a struggle. &ldquo;Here's hospitality!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Six
+      ounces!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Receiving no reply, he inquired of the third lieutenant, which was
+      generally considered the greatest authority in a ship&mdash;the captain,
+      or the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The third lieutenant answered not, but turned his head away, and, by
+      violent exertion, succeeded in not splitting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll answer that,&rdquo; said Hamilton politely. &ldquo;The captain is the highest in
+      his department, and the doctor in his: now Doctor Staines is strictly
+      within his department, and will be supported by me and my officers. You
+      are bilious, and epileptical, and all the rest of it, and you are to be
+      cured by diet and blue water.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Tadcaster was inclined to snivel: however, he subdued that weakness with a
+      visible effort, and, in due course, returned to the charge. &ldquo;How would you
+      look,&rdquo; quavered he, &ldquo;if there was to be a mutiny in this ship of yours,
+      and I was to head it?'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I should look SHARP&mdash;hang all the ringleaders at the yardarm,
+      clap the rest under hatches, and steer for the nearest prison.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Tadcaster, and digested this scheme a bit. At last he perked up
+      again, and made his final hit. &ldquo;Well, I shouldn't care, for one, if you
+      didn't flog us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In that case,&rdquo; said Captain Hamilton, &ldquo;I'd flog you&mdash;and stop your
+      six ounces.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then curse the sea; that is all I say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you have not seen it; you have only seen the British Channel.&rdquo; It
+      was Mr. Fitzroy who contributed this last observation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After dinner all but the captain went on deck, and saw the Eddystone
+      lighthouse ahead and to leeward. They passed it. Fitzroy told his lordship
+      its story, and that of its unfortunate predecessors. Soon after this Lord
+      Tadcaster turned in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the captain observed a change in the thermometer, which brought
+      him on deck. He scanned the water and the sky, and as these experienced
+      commanders have a subtle insight into the weather, especially in familiar
+      latitudes, he remarked to the first lieutenant that it looked rather
+      unsettled; and, as a matter of prudence, ordered a reef in the topsails,
+      and the royal yards to be sent down: ship to be steered W. by S. This
+      done, he turned in, but told them to call him if there was any change in
+      the weather.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      During the night the wind gradually headed; and at four bells in the
+      middle watch a heavy squall came up from the south-west.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This brought the captain on deck again: he found the officer of the watch
+      at his post, and at work. Sail was shortened, and the ship made snug for
+      heavy weather.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At four A.M. it was blowing hard, and, being too near the French coast,
+      they wore the ship.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, this operation was bad for little Tadcaster. While the vessel was on
+      the starboard tack, the side kept him snug; but, when they wore her, of
+      course he had no leeboard to keep him in. The ship gave a lee-lurch, and
+      shot him clean out of his bunk into the middle of the cabin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He shrieked and shrieked, with terror and pain, till the captain and
+      Staines, who were his nearest neighbors, came to him, and they gave him a
+      little brandy, and got him to bed again. Here he suffered nothing but
+      violent seasickness for some hours. As for Staines, he had been swinging
+      heavily in his cot; but such was his mental distress that he would have
+      welcomed seasickness, or any reasonable bodily suffering. He was in that
+      state when the sting of a wasp is a touch of comfort.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Worn out with sickness, Tadcaster would not move. Invited to breakfast, he
+      swore faintly, and insisted on dying in peace. At last exhaustion gave him
+      a sort of sleep, in spite of the motion, which was violent, for it was now
+      blowing great guns, a heavy sea on, and the great waves dirty in color and
+      crested with raging foam.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had to wear ship again, always a ticklish manoeuvre in weather like
+      this.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A tremendous sea struck her quarter, stove in the very port abreast of
+      which the little lord was lying, and washed him clean out of bed into the
+      lee scuppers, and set all swimming around him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Didn't he yell, and wash about the cabin, and grab at all the chairs and
+      tables and things that drifted about, nimble as eels, avoiding his grasp!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In rushed the captain, and in staggered Staines. They stopped his &ldquo;voyage
+      autour de sa chambre,&rdquo; and dragged him into the after saloon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He clung to them by turns, and begged, with many tears, to be put on the
+      nearest land; a rock would do.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Much obliged,&rdquo; said the captain; &ldquo;now is the very time to give rocks a
+      wide berth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A dead whale, then&mdash;a lighthouse&mdash;anything but a beast of a
+      ship.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They pacified him with a little brandy, and for the next twenty-four hours
+      he scarcely opened his mouth, except for a purpose it is needless to dwell
+      on. We can trust to our terrestrial readers' personal reminiscences of
+      lee-lurches, weather-rolls, and their faithful concomitant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last they wriggled out of the Channel, and soon after that the wind
+      abated, and next day veered round to the northward, and the ship sailed
+      almost on an even keel. The motion became as heavenly as it had been
+      diabolical, and the passengers came on deck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines had suffered one whole day from sea-sickness, but never
+      complained. I believe it did his mind more good than harm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for Tadcaster, he continued to suffer, at intervals, for two days more,
+      but on the fifth day out he appeared with a little pink tinge on his cheek
+      and a wolfish appetite. Dr. Staines controlled his diet severely, as to
+      quality, and, when they had been at sea just eleven days, the physician's
+      heavy heart was not a little lightened by the marvellous change in him.
+      The unthinking, who believe in the drug system, should have seen what a
+      physician can do with air and food, when circumstances enable him to
+      ENFORCE the diet he enjoins. Money will sometimes buy even health, if you
+      AVOID DRUGS ENTIRELY, and go another road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Little Tadcaster went on board, pasty, dim-eyed, and very subject to fits,
+      because his stomach was constantly overloaded with indigestible trash, and
+      the blood in his brain-vessels was always either galloping or creeping,
+      under the first or second effect of stimulants administered, at first, by
+      thoughtless physicians. Behold him now&mdash;bronzed, pinky, bright-eyed,
+      elastic; and only one fit in twelve days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The quarter-deck was hailed from the &ldquo;look-out&rdquo; with a cry that is
+      sometimes terrible, but in this latitude and weather welcome and exciting.
+      &ldquo;Land, ho!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where away?&rdquo; cried the officer of the watch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A point on the lee-bow, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the island of Madeira: they dropped anchor in Funchal Roads, furled
+      sails, squared yards, and fired a salute of twenty-one guns for the
+      Portuguese flag.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They went ashore, and found a good hotel, and were no longer dosed, as in
+      former days, with oil, onions, garlic, eggs. But the wine queer, and no
+      madeira to be got.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines wrote home to his wife: he told her how deeply he had felt the
+      bereavement; but did not dwell on that; his object being to cheer her. He
+      told her it promised to be a rapid and wonderful cure, and one that might
+      very well give him a fresh start in London. They need not be parted a
+      whole year, he thought. He sent her a very long letter, and also such
+      extracts from his sea journal as he thought might please her. After dinner
+      they inspected the town, and what struck them most was to find the streets
+      paved with flag-stones, and most of the carts drawn by bullocks on
+      sledges. A man every now and then would run forward and drop a greasy
+      cloth in front of the sledge, to lubricate the way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day, after breakfast, they ordered horses; these on inspection,
+      proved to be of excellent breed, either from Australia or America&mdash;very
+      rough shod, for the stony roads. Started for the Grand Canal&mdash;peeped
+      down that mighty chasm, which has the appearance of an immense mass having
+      been blown out of the centre of the mountain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They lunched under the great dragon tree near its brink, then rode back
+      admiring the bold mountain scenery. Next morning at dawn, rode on horses
+      up the hill to the convent. Admired the beautiful gardens on the way.
+      Remained a short time; then came down in hand-sleighs&mdash;little baskets
+      slung on sledges, guided by two natives; these sledges run down the hill
+      with surprising rapidity, and the men guide them round corners by sticking
+      out a foot to port or starboard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Embarked at 11.30 A.M.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At 1.30, the men having dined, the ship was got under way for the Cape of
+      Good Hope, and all sail made for a southerly course, to get into the
+      north-east trades.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The weather was now balmy and delightful, and so genial that everybody
+      lived on deck, and could hardly be got to turn in to their cabins, even
+      for sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines became a favorite with the officers. There is a great deal of
+      science on board a modern ship of war, and, of course, on some points
+      Staines, a Cambridge wrangler, and a man of many sciences and books, was
+      an oracle. On others he was quite behind, but a ready and quick pupil. He
+      made up to the navigating officer, and learned, with his help, to take
+      observations. In return he was always at any youngster's service in a
+      trigonometrical problem; and he amused the midshipmen and young
+      lieutenants with analytical tests; some of these were applicable to
+      certain liquids dispensed by the paymaster. Under one of them the port
+      wine assumed some very droll colors and appearances not proper to
+      grape-juice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One lovely night that the ship clove the dark sea into a blaze of
+      phosphorescence, and her wake streamed like a comet's tail, a waggish
+      middy got a bucketful hoisted on deck, and asked the doctor to analyze
+      that. He did not much like it, but yielded to the general request; and by
+      dividing it into smaller vessels, and dropping in various chemicals, made
+      rainbows and silvery flames and what not. But he declined to repeat the
+      experiment: &ldquo;No, no; once is philosophy; twice is cruelty. I've slain more
+      than Samson already.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As for Tadcaster, science had no charms for him; but fiction had; and he
+      got it galore; for he cruised about the forecastle, and there the
+      quartermasters and old seamen spun him yarns that held him breathless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But one day my lord had a fit on the quarter-deck, and a bad one; and
+      Staines found him smelling strong of rum. He represented this to Captain
+      Hamilton. The captain caused strict inquiries to be made, and it came out
+      that my lord had gone among the men, with money in both pockets, and
+      bought a little of one man's grog, and a little of another, and had been
+      sipping the furtive but transient joys of solitary intoxication.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Hamilton talked to him seriously; told him it was suicide.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind, old boy,&rdquo; said the young monkey; &ldquo;a short life and a merry
+      one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Hamilton represented that it was very ungentleman-like to go and
+      tempt poor Jack with his money, to offend discipline, and get flogged.
+      &ldquo;How will you feel, Tadcaster, when you see their backs bleeding under the
+      cat?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, d&mdash;n it all, George, don't do that,&rdquo; says the young gentleman,
+      all in a hurry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the commander saw he had touched the right chord. So he played on it,
+      till he got Lord Tadcaster to pledge his honor not to do it again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little fellow gave the pledge, but relieved his mind as follows: &ldquo;But
+      it is a cursed tyrannical hole, this tiresome old ship. You can't do what
+      you like in it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but no more you can in the grave: and that is the agreeable
+      residence you were hurrying to but for this tiresome old ship.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lord! no more you can,&rdquo; said Tadcaster, with sudden candor. &ldquo;I FORGOT
+      THAT.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The airs were very light; the ship hardly moved. It was beginning to get
+      dull, when one day a sail was sighted on the weather-bow, standing to the
+      eastward: on nearing her, she was seen, by the cut of her sails, to be a
+      man-of-war, evidently homeward bound: so Captain Hamilton ordered the
+      main-royal to be lowered (to render signal more visible) and the &ldquo;demand&rdquo;
+       hoisted. No notice being taken of this, a gun was fired to draw her
+      attention to the signal. This had the desired effect; down went her
+      main-royal, up went her &ldquo;number.&rdquo; On referring to the signal book, she
+      proved to be the Vindictive from the Pacific Station.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This being ascertained, Captain Hamilton, being that captain's senior,
+      signalled &ldquo;Close and prepare to receive letters.&rdquo; In obedience to this she
+      bore up, ran down, and rounded to; the sail in the Amphitrite was also
+      shortened, the maintopsail laid to the mast, and a boat lowered. The
+      captain having finished his despatches, they, with the letter-bags, were
+      handed into the boat, which shoved off, pulled to the lee side of the
+      Vindictive, and left the despatches, with Captain Hamilton's compliments.
+      On its return, both ships made sail on their respective course, exchanging
+      &ldquo;bon voyage&rdquo; by signal, and soon the upper sails of the homeward-bounder
+      were seen dipping below the horizon: longing eyes followed her on board
+      the Amphitrite.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How many hurried missives had been written and despatched in that
+      half-hour. But as for Staines, he was a man of forethought, and had a
+      volume ready for his dear wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Tadcaster wrote to Lady Cicely Treherne. His epistle, though brief,
+      contained a plum or two.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He wrote: &ldquo;What with sailing, and fishing, and eating nothing but roast
+      meat, I'm quite another man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This amused her ladyship a little, but not so much as the postscript,
+      which was indeed the neatest thing in its way she had met with, and she
+      had some experience, too.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;P.S.&mdash;I say, Cicely, I think I should like to marry you. Would you
+      mind?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Let us defy time and space to give you Lady Cicely's reply: &ldquo;I should
+      enjoy it of all things, Taddy. But, alas! I am too young.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      N.B.&mdash;She was twenty-seven, and Tad sixteen. To be sure, Tad was four
+      feet eleven, and she was only five feet six and a half.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To return to my narrative (with apologies), this meeting of the vessels
+      caused a very agreeable excitement that day; but a greater was in store.
+      In the afternoon, Tadcaster, Staines, and the principal officers of the
+      ship, being at dinner in the captain's cabin, in came the officer of the
+      watch, and reported a large spar on the weather-bow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, close it, if you can; and let me know if it looks worth picking
+      up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He then explained to Lord Tadcaster that, on a cruise, he never liked to
+      pass a spar, or anything that might possibly reveal the fate of some
+      vessel or other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the middle of his discourse the officer came in again, but not in the
+      same cool business way: he ran in excitedly, and said, &ldquo;Captain, the
+      signalman reports it ALIVE!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alive?&mdash;a spar! What do you mean? Something alive ON it, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir; alive itself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can that be? Hail him again. Ask him what it is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The officer went out, and hailed the signalman at the mast-head. &ldquo;What is
+      it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sea-sarpint, I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This hail reached the captain's ears faintly. However, he waited quietly
+      till the officer came in and reported it; then he burst out, &ldquo;Absurd!
+      there is no such creature in the universe. What do you say, Dr. Staines?&mdash;It
+      is in your department.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The universe in my department, captain?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Haw! haw! haw!&rdquo; went Fitzroy and two more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you rogue, the serpent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines, thus appealed to, asked the captain if he had ever seen small
+      snakes out at sea.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course. Sailed through a mile of them once, in the archipelago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure they were snakes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite sure; and the biggest was not eight feet long.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, captain; then sea-serpents exist, and it becomes a mere
+      question of size. Now which produces the larger animals in every kind,&mdash;land
+      or sea? The grown elephant weighs, I believe, about five tons. The very
+      smallest of the whale tribe weighs ten; and they go as high as forty tons.
+      There are smaller fish than the whale, that are four times as heavy as the
+      elephant. Why doubt, then, that the sea can breed a snake to eclipse the
+      boa-constrictor? Even if the creature had never been seen, I should, by
+      mere reasoning from analogy, expect the sea to produce a serpent excelling
+      the boa-constrictor, as the lobster excels a crayfish of our rivers: see
+      how large things grow at sea! the salmon born in our rivers weighs in six
+      months a quarter of a pound, or less; it goes out to sea, and comes back
+      in one year weighing seven pounds. So far from doubting the large
+      sea-serpents, I believe they exist by the million. The only thing that
+      puzzles me is, why they should ever show a nose above water; they must be
+      very numerous, I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Hamilton laughed, and said, &ldquo;Well, this IS new. Doctor, in
+      compliment to your opinion, we will go on deck, and inspect the reptile
+      you think so common.&rdquo; He stopped at the door, and said, &ldquo;Doctor, the
+      saltcellar is by you. Would you mind bringing it on deck? We shall want a
+      little to secure the animal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So they all went on deck right merrily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain went up a few ratlines in the mizzen rigging, and looked to
+      windward, laughing all the time: but, all of a sudden, there was a great
+      change in his manner. &ldquo;Good heavens, it is alive&mdash;LUFF!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The helmsman obeyed; the news spread like wildfire. Mess kids, grog kids,
+      pipes, were all let fall, and some three hundred sailors clustered on the
+      rigging like bees, to view the long-talked-of monster.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was soon discovered to be moving lazily along, the propelling part
+      being under water, and about twenty-five feet visible. It had a small head
+      for so large a body, and, as they got nearer, rough scales were seen,
+      ending in smaller ones further down the body. It had a mane, but not like
+      a lion's, as some have pretended. If you have ever seen a pony with a
+      hog-mane, that was more the character of this creature's mane, if mane it
+      was.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They got within a hundred yards of it, and all saw it plainly, scarce
+      believing their senses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When they could get no nearer for the wind, the captain yielded to that
+      instinct which urges man always to kill a curiosity, &ldquo;to encourage the
+      rest,&rdquo; as saith the witty Voltaire. &ldquo;Get ready a gun&mdash;best shot in
+      the ship lay and fire it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was soon done. Bang went the gun. The shot struck the water close to
+      the brute, and may have struck him under water, for aught I know. Any way,
+      it sorely disturbed him; for he reared into the air a column of serpent's
+      flesh that looked as thick as the maintopmast of a seventy-four, opened a
+      mouth that looked capacious enough to swallow the largest buoy anchor in
+      the ship, and, with a strange grating noise between a bark and a hiss,
+      dived, and was seen no more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he was gone, they all looked at one another like men awaking from a
+      dream.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines alone took it quite coolly. It did not surprise him in the least.
+      He had always thought it incredible that the boa-constrictor should be
+      larger than any sea-snake. That idea struck him as monstrous and absurd.
+      He noted the sea-serpent in his journal, but with this doubt, &ldquo;Semble&mdash;more
+      like a very large eel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day they crossed the line. Just before noon a young gentleman burst
+      into Staines's cabin, apologizing for want of ceremony; but if Dr. Staines
+      would like to see the line, it was now in sight from the mizzentop.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Glad of it, sir,&rdquo; said Staines; &ldquo;collect it for me in the ship's buckets,
+      if you please. I want to send A LINE to friends at home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Young gentleman buried his hands in his pockets, walked out in solemn
+      silence, and resumed his position on the lee-side of the quarter-deck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nevertheless, this opening, coupled with what he had heard and read, made
+      Staines a little uneasy, and he went to his friend Fitzroy, and said,
+      &ldquo;Now, look here: I am at the service of you experienced and humorous
+      mariners. I plead guilty at once to the crime of never having passed the
+      line; so, make ready your swabs, and lather me; your ship's scraper, and
+      shave me; and let us get it over. But Lord Tadcaster is nervous,
+      sensitive, prouder than he seems, and I'm not going to have him driven
+      into a fit for all the Neptunes and Amphitrites in creation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fitzroy heard him out, then burst out laughing. &ldquo;Why, there is none of
+      that game in the Royal Navy,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Hasn't been this twenty years.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm so sorry,&rdquo; said Dr. Staines. &ldquo;If there's a form of wit I revere, it
+      is practical joking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Doctor, you are a satirical beggar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines told Tadcaster, and he went forward and chaffed his friend the
+      quartermaster, who was one of the forecastle wits.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say, quartermaster, why doesn't Neptune come on board?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dead silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder what has become of poor old Nep?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gone ashore!&rdquo; growled the seaman. &ldquo;Last seen in Rateliff Highway. Got a
+      shop there&mdash;lends a shilling in the pound on seamen's advance
+      tickets.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! and Amphitrite?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Married the sexton at Wapping.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the Nereids?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Neruds!&rdquo; (scratching his head.) &ldquo;I harn't kept my eye on them small
+      craft. But I BELIEVE they are selling oysters in the port of Leith.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A light breeze carried them across the equator; but soon after they got
+      becalmed, and it was dreary work, and the ship rolled gently, but
+      continuously, and upset Lord Tadcaster's stomach again, and quenched his
+      manly spirit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last they were fortunate enough to catch the southeast trade, but it
+      was so languid at first that the ship barely moved through the water,
+      though they set every stitch, and studding sails alow and aloft, till
+      really she was acres of canvas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While she was so creeping along, a man in the mizzentop noticed an
+      enormous shark gliding steadily in her wake. This may seem a small
+      incident, yet it ran through the ship like wildfire, and caused more or
+      less uneasiness in three hundred stout hearts; so near is every seaman to
+      death, and so strong the persuasion in their superstitious minds, that a
+      shark does not follow a ship pertinaciously without a prophetic instinct
+      of calamity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Unfortunately, the quartermaster conveyed this idea to Lord Tadcaster, and
+      confirmed it by numerous examples to prove that there was always death at
+      hand when a shark followed the ship.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon Tadcaster took it into his head that he was under a relapse, and
+      the shark was waiting for his dead body: he got quite low-spirited.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines told Fitzroy. Fitzroy said, &ldquo;Shark be hanged! I'll have him on
+      deck in half an hour.&rdquo; He got leave from the captain: a hook was baited
+      with a large piece of pork, and towed astern by a stout line, experienced
+      old hands attending to it by turns.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The shark came up leisurely, surveyed the bait, and, I apprehend,
+      ascertained the position of the hook. At all events, he turned quietly on
+      his back, sucked the bait off, and retired to enjoy it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Every officer in the ship tried him in turn, but without success; for, if
+      they got ready for him, and, the moment he took the bait, jerked the rope
+      hard, in that case he opened his enormous mouth so wide that the bait and
+      hook came out clear. But, sooner or later, he always got the bait, and
+      left his captors the hook.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This went on for days, and his huge dorsal fin always in the ship's wake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Tadcaster, who had watched these experiments with hope, lost his
+      spirit and appetite.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines reasoned with him, but in vain. Somebody was to die; and, although
+      there were three hundred and more in the ship, he must be the one. At last
+      he actually made his will, and threw himself into Staines's arms, and gave
+      him messages to his mother and Lady Cicely; and ended by frightening
+      himself into a fit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This roused Staines's pity, and also put him on his mettle. What, science
+      be beaten by a shark!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He pondered the matter with all his might; and at last an idea came to
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He asked the captain's permission to try his hand. This was accorded
+      immediately, and the ship's stores placed at his disposal very politely,
+      but with a sly, comical grin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines got from the carpenter some sheets of zinc and spare copper,
+      and some flannel: these he cut into three-inch squares, and soaked the
+      flannel in acidulated water. He then procured a quantity of bell-wire, the
+      greater part of which he insulated by wrapping it round with hot gutta
+      percha. So eager was he, that he did not turn in all night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the morning he prepared what he called an electric fuse&mdash;he filled
+      a soda-water bottle with gunpowder, attaching some cork to make it
+      buoyant, put in the fuse and bung, made it water-tight, connected and
+      insulated his main wires&mdash;enveloped the bottle in pork&mdash;tied a
+      line to it, and let the bottle overboard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain and officers shook their heads mysteriously. The tars peeped
+      and grinned from every rope to see a doctor try and catch a shark with a
+      soda-water bottle and no hook; but somehow the doctor seemed to know what
+      he was about, so they hovered round, and awaited the result, mystified,
+      but curious, and showing their teeth from ear to ear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The only thing I fear,&rdquo; said Staines, &ldquo;is that, the moment he takes the
+      bait, he will cut the wire before I can complete the circuit, and fire the
+      fuse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nevertheless, there was another objection to the success of the
+      experiment. The shark had disappeared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said the captain, &ldquo;at all events, you have frightened him away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said little Tadcaster, white as a ghost; &ldquo;he is only under water, I
+      know; waiting&mdash;waiting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There he is,&rdquo; cried one in the ratlines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a rush to the taffrail&mdash;great excitement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Keep clear of me,&rdquo; said Staines quietly but firmly. &ldquo;It can only be done
+      at the moment before he cuts the wire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old shark swam slowly round the bait.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He saw it was something new.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He swam round and round it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He won't take it,&rdquo; said one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He suspects something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, he will take the meat somehow, and leave the pepper. Sly old
+      fox!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has eaten many a poor Jack, that one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The shark turned slowly on his back, and, instead of grabbing at the bait,
+      seemed to draw it by gentle suction into that capacious throat, ready to
+      blow it out in a moment if it was not all right.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The moment the bait was drawn out of sight, Staines completed the circuit;
+      the bottle exploded with a fury that surprised him and everybody who saw
+      it; a ton of water flew into the air, and came down in spray, and a gory
+      carcass floated, belly uppermost, visibly staining the blue water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a roar of amazement and applause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The carcass was towed alongside, at Tadcaster's urgent request, and then
+      the power of the explosion was seen. Confined, first by the bottle, then
+      by the meat, then by the fish, and lastly by the water, it had exploded
+      with tenfold power, had blown the brute's head into a million atoms, and
+      had even torn a great furrow in its carcass, exposing three feet of the
+      backbone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Taddy gloated on his enemy, and began to pick up again from that hour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The wind improved, and, as usual in that latitude, scarcely varied a
+      point. They had a pleasant time,&mdash;private theatricals and other
+      amusements till they got to latitude 26 deg. S. and longitude 27 deg. W.
+      Then the trade wind deserted them. Light and variable winds succeeded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The master complained of the chronometers, and the captain thought it his
+      duty to verify or correct them; and so shaped his course for the island of
+      Tristan d'Acunha, then lying a little way out of his course. I ought,
+      perhaps, to explain to the general reader that the exact position of this
+      island being long ago established and recorded, it was an infallible guide
+      to go by in verifying a ship's chronometers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day the glass fell all day, and the captain said he should
+      double-reef topsails at nightfall, for something was brewing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The weather, however, was fine, and the ship was sailing very fast, when,
+      about half an hour before sunset, the mast-head man hailed that there was
+      a bulk of timber in sight, broad on the weather-bow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The signalman was sent up, and said it looked like a raft.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain, who was on deck, levelled his glass at it, and made it out a
+      raft, with a sort of rail to it, and the stump of a mast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He ordered the officer of the watch to keep the ship as close to the wind
+      as possible. He should like to examine it if he could.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The master represented, respectfully, that it would be unadvisable to beat
+      to windward for that. &ldquo;I have no faith in our chronometers, sir, and it is
+      important to make the island before dark; fogs rise here so suddenly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, Mr. Bolt; then I suppose we must let the raft go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;MAN ON THE RAFT TO WINDWARD!&rdquo; hailed the signalman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This electrified the ship. The captain ran up the mizzen rigging, and
+      scanned the raft, now nearly abeam.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It IS a man!&rdquo; he cried, and was about to alter the ship's course when, at
+      that moment, the signalman hailed again,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;IT IS A CORPSE.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How d'ye know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By the gulls.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then succeeded an exciting dialogue between the captain and the master,
+      who, being in his department, was very firm; and went so far as to say he
+      would not answer for the safety of the ship, if they did not sight the
+      land before dark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain said, &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; and took a turn or two. But at last he
+      said, &ldquo;No. Her Majesty's ship must not pass a raft with a man on it, dead
+      or alive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He then began to give the necessary orders; but before they were all out
+      of his mouth, a fatal interruption occurred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Tadcaster ran into Dr. Staines's cabin, crying, &ldquo;A raft with a corpse
+      close by!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines sprang to the quarter port to see, and craning eagerly out, the
+      lower port chain, which had not been well secured, slipped, the port gave
+      way, and as his whole weight rested on it, canted him headlong into the
+      sea.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A smart seaman in the forechains saw the accident, and instantly roared
+      out, &ldquo;MAN OVERBOARD!&rdquo; a cry that sends a thrill through a ship's very
+      ribs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another smart fellow cut the life-buoy adrift so quickly that it struck
+      the water within ten yards of Staines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The officer of the watch, without the interval of half a moment, gave the
+      right orders, in the voice of a stentor;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let go life-buoy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Life-boat's crew away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hands shorten sail.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mainsel up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Main topsel to mast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      These orders were executed with admirable swiftness. Meantime there was a
+      mighty rush of feet throughout the frigate, every hatchway was crammed
+      with men eager to force their way on deck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In five seconds the middy of the watch and half her crew were in the lee
+      cutter, fitted with Clifford's apparatus.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lower away!&rdquo; cried the excited officer; &ldquo;the others will come down by the
+      pendants.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man stationed, sitting on the bottom boards, eased away roundly, when
+      suddenly there was a hitch&mdash;the boat would go no farther.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lower away there in the cutter! Why don't you lower?&rdquo; screamed the
+      captain, who had come over to leeward expecting to see the boat in the
+      water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The rope has swollen, sir, and the pendants won't unreeve,&rdquo; cried the
+      middy in agony.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Volunteers for the weather-boat!&rdquo; shouted the first lieutenant; but the
+      order was unnecessary, for more than the proper number were in her
+      already.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Plug in&mdash;lower away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But mishaps never come singly. Scarcely had this boat gone a foot from the
+      davit, than the volunteer who was acting as coxswain, in reaching out for
+      something, inadvertently let go the line, which, in Kynaston's apparatus,
+      keeps the tackles hooked; consequently, down went the boat and crew twenty
+      feet, with a terrific crash; the men were struggling for their lives, and
+      the boat was stove.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, meantime, more men having been sent into the lee cutter, their weight
+      caused the pendants to render, and the boat got afloat, and was soon
+      employed picking up the struggling crew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Seeing this, Lieutenant Fitzroy collected some hands, and lowered the
+      life-boat gig, which was fitted with common tackles, got down into her
+      himself by the falls, and pulling round to windward, shouted to the
+      signalman for directions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The signalman was at his post, and had fixed his eye on the man overboard,
+      as his duty was; but his mess-mate was in the stove boat, and he had cast
+      one anxious look down to see if he was saved, and, sad to relate, in that
+      one moment he had lost sight of Staines; the sudden darkness&mdash;there
+      was no twilight&mdash;confused him more, and the ship had increased her
+      drift.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fitzroy, however, made a rapid calculation, and pulled to windward with
+      all his might. He was followed in about a minute by the other sound boat
+      powerfully manned, and both boats melted away into the night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a long and anxious suspense, during which it became pitch dark,
+      and the ship burned blue lights to mark her position more plainly to the
+      crews that were groping the sea for that beloved passenger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Hamilton had no doubt that the fate of Staines was decided, one
+      way or other, long before this; but he kept quiet until he saw the plain
+      signs of a squall at hand. Then, as he was responsible for the safety of
+      boats and ship, he sent up rockets to recall them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cutter came alongside first. Lights were poured on her, and quavering
+      voices asked, &ldquo;Have you got him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The answer was dead silence, and sorrowful, drooping heads.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sadly and reluctantly was the order given to hoist the boat in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the gig came alongside. Fitzroy seated in her, with his hands before
+      his face; the men gloomy and sad.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;GONE! GONE!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon the ship was battling a heavy squall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At midnight all quiet again, and hove to. Then, at the request of many,
+      the bell was tolled, and the ship's company mustered bareheaded, and many
+      a stout seaman in tears, as the last service was read for Christopher
+      Staines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIV.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Rosa fell ill with grief at the hotel, and could not move for some days;
+      but the moment she was strong enough, she insisted on leaving Plymouth:
+      like all wounded things, she must drag herself home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But what a home! How empty it struck, and she heart-sick and desolate. Now
+      all the familiar places wore a new aspect: the little yard, where he had
+      so walked and waited, became a temple to her, and she came out and sat in
+      it, and now first felt to the full how much he had suffered there&mdash;with
+      what fortitude. She crept about the house, and kissed the chair he had sat
+      in, and every much-used place and thing of the departed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her shallow nature deepened and deepened under this bereavement, of which,
+      she said to herself, with a shudder, she was the cause. And this is the
+      course of nature; there is nothing like suffering to enlighten the giddy
+      brain, widen the narrow mind, improve the trivial heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As her regrets were tender and deep, so her vows of repentance were
+      sincere. Oh, what a wife she would make when he came back! how thoughtful!
+      how prudent! how loyal! and never have a secret. She who had once said,
+      &ldquo;What is the use of your writing? nobody will publish it,&rdquo; now collected
+      and perused every written scrap. With simple affection she even locked up
+      his very waste-paper basket, full of fragments he had torn, or useless
+      papers he had thrown there, before he went to Plymouth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the drawer of his writing-table she found his diary. It was a thick
+      quarto: it began with their marriage, and ended with his leaving home&mdash;for
+      then he took another volume. This diary became her Bible; she studied it
+      daily, till her tears hid his lines. The entries were very miscellaneous,
+      very exact; it was a map of their married life. But what she studied most
+      was his observations on her own character, so scientific, yet so kindly;
+      and his scholar-like and wise reflections. The book was an unconscious
+      picture of a great mind she had hitherto but glanced at: now she saw it
+      all plain before her; saw it, understood it, adored it, mourned it. Such
+      women are shallow, not for want of a head upon their shoulders, but of
+      ATTENTION. They do not really study anything: they have been taught at
+      their schools the bad art of skimming; but let their hearts compel their
+      brains to think and think, the result is considerable. The deepest
+      philosopher never fathomed a character more thoroughly than this poor
+      child fathomed her philosopher, when she had read his journal ten or
+      eleven times, and bedewed it with a thousand tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One passage almost cut her more intelligent heart in twain:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This dark day I have done a thing incredible. I have spoken with brutal
+      harshness to the innocent creature I have sworn to protect. She had run in
+      debt, through inexperience, and that unhappy timidity which makes women
+      conceal an error till it ramifies, by concealment, into a fault; and I
+      must storm and rave at her, till she actually fainted away. Brute!
+      Ruffian! Monster! And she, how did she punish me, poor lamb? By soft and
+      tender words&mdash;like a lady, as she is. Oh, my sweet Rosa, I wish you
+      could know how you are avenged. Talk of the scourge&mdash;the cat! I would
+      be thankful for two dozen lashes. Ah! there is no need, I think, to punish
+      a man who has been cruel to a woman. Let him alone. He will punish himself
+      more than you can, if he is really a man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      From the date of that entry, this self-reproach and self-torture kept
+      cropping up every now and then in the diary; and it appeared to have been
+      not entirely without its influence in sending Staines to sea, though the
+      main reason he gave was that his Rosa might have the comforts and luxuries
+      she had enjoyed before she married him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day, while she was crying over this diary, Uncle Philip called; but
+      not to comfort her, I promise you. He burst on her, irate, to take her to
+      task. He had returned, learned Christopher's departure, and settled the
+      reason in his own mind: that uxorious fool was gone to sea by a natural
+      reaction; his eyes were open to his wife at last, and he was sick of her
+      folly; so he had fled to distant climes, as who would not, that could?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;SO, ma'am,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;my nephew is gone to sea, I find&mdash;all in a
+      hurry. Pray may I ask what he has done that for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a very simple question, yet it did not elicit a very plain answer.
+      She only stared at this abrupt inquisitor, and then cried, piteously, &ldquo;Oh,
+      Uncle Philip!&rdquo; and burst out sobbing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, what is the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You WILL hate me now. He is gone to make money for ME; and I would rather
+      have lived on a crust. Uncle&mdash;don't hate me. I'm a poor, bereaved,
+      heart-broken creature, that repents.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Repents! heigho! why, what have you been up to now, ma'am? No great harm,
+      I'll be bound. Flirting a little with some FOOL&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Flirting! Me! a married woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, to be sure; I forgot. Why, surely he has not deserted you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My Christopher desert me! He loves me too well; far more than I deserve;
+      but not more than I will. Uncle Philip, I am too confused and wretched to
+      tell you all that has happened; but I know you love him, though you had a
+      tiff: uncle, he called on you, to shake hands and ask your forgiveness,
+      poor fellow! He was so sorry you were away. Please read his dear diary: it
+      will tell you all, better than his poor foolish wife can. I know it by
+      heart. I'll show you where you and he quarrelled about me. There, see.&rdquo;
+       And she showed him the passage with her finger. &ldquo;He never told me it was
+      that, or I would have come and begged your pardon on my knees. But see how
+      sorry he was. There, see. And now I'll show you another place, where my
+      Christopher speaks of your many, many acts of kindness. There, see. And
+      now please let me show you how he longed for reconciliation. There, see.
+      And it is the same through the book. And now I'll show you how grieved he
+      was to go without your blessing. I told him I was sure you would give him
+      that, and him going away. Ah, me! will he ever return? Uncle dear, don't
+      hate me. What shall I do, now he is gone, if you disown me? Why, you are
+      the only Staines left me to love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Disown you, ma'am! that I'll never do. You are a good-hearted young
+      woman, I find. There, run and dry your eyes; and let me read Christopher's
+      diary all through. Then I shall see how the land lies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa complied with his proposal; and left him alone while she bathed her
+      eyes, and tried to compose herself, for she was all trembling at this
+      sudden irruption.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she returned to the drawing-room, he was walking about, looking grave
+      and thoughtful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the old story,&rdquo; said he, rather gently: &ldquo;a MISUNDERSTANDING. How
+      wise our ancestors were that first used that word to mean a quarrel! for,
+      look into twenty quarrels, and you shall detect a score of
+      mis-under-standings. Yet our American cousins must go and substitute the
+      un-ideaed word 'difficulty'; that is wonderful. I had no quarrel with him:
+      delighted to see either of you. But I had called twice on him; so I
+      thought he ought to get over his temper, and call on a tried friend like
+      me. A misunderstanding! Now, my dear, let us have no more of these
+      misunderstandings. You will always be welcome at my house, and I shall
+      often come here and look after you and your interests. What do you mean to
+      do, I wonder?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir, I am to go home to my father, if he will be troubled with me. I have
+      written to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what is to become of the Bijou?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My Christie thought I should like to part with it, and the furniture&mdash;but
+      his own writing-desk and his chair, no, I never will, and his little
+      clock. Oh! oh! oh!&mdash;But I remember what you said about agents, and I
+      don't know what to do; for I shall be away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, leave it to me. I'll come and live here with one servant; and I'll
+      soon sell it for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You, Uncle Philip!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, why not?&rdquo; said he roughly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That will be a great trouble and discomfort to you, I'm afraid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I find it so, I'll soon drop it. I'm not the fool to put myself out
+      for anybody. When you are ready to go out, send me word, and I'll come
+      in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon after this he bustled off. He gave her a sort of hurried kiss at
+      parting, as if he was ashamed of it, and wanted it over as quickly as
+      possible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day her father came, condoled with her politely, assured her there
+      was nothing to cry about; husbands were a sort of functionaries that
+      generally went to sea at some part of their career, and no harm ever came
+      of it. On the contrary, &ldquo;Absence makes the heart grow fonder,&rdquo; said this
+      judicious parent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This sentiment happened to be just a little too true, and set the daughter
+      crying bitterly. But she fought against it. &ldquo;Oh no!&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I MUSTN'T.
+      I will not be always crying in Kent Villa.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lord forbid!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall get over it in time&mdash;a little.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course you will. But as to your coming to Kent Villa, I am afraid
+      you would not be very comfortable there. You know I am superannuated. Only
+      got my pension now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that, papa: and&mdash;why, that is one of the reasons. I have a
+      good income now; and I thought if we put our means together&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that is a very different thing. You will want a carriage, I suppose.
+      I have put mine down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No carriage; no horse; no footman; no luxury of any kind till my Christie
+      comes back. I abhor dress; I abhor expense; I loathe everything I once
+      liked too well; I detest every folly that has parted us; and I hate myself
+      worst of all. Oh! oh! oh! Forgive me for crying so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I dare say there are associations about this place that upset you.
+      I shall go and make ready for you, dear; and then you can come as soon as
+      you like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He bestowed a paternal kiss on her brow, and glided doucely away before
+      she could possibly cry again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The very next week Rosa was at Kent Villa, with the relics of her husband
+      about her; his chair, his writing-table, his clock, his waste-paper
+      basket, a very deep and large one. She had them all in her bedroom at Kent
+      Villa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here the days glided quietly but heavily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She derived some comfort from Uncle Philip. His rough, friendly way was a
+      tonic, and braced her. He called several times about the Bijou. Told her
+      he had put up enormous boards all over the house, and puffed it finely. &ldquo;I
+      have had a hundred agents at me,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;and the next thing, I hope,
+      will be one customer; that is about the proportion.&rdquo; At last he wrote her
+      he had hooked a victim, and sold the lease and furniture for nine hundred
+      guineas. Staines had assigned the lease to Rosa, so she had full powers;
+      and Philip invested the money, and two hundred more she gave him, in a
+      little mortgage at six per cent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now came the letter from Madeira. It gave her new life. Christopher was
+      well, contented, hopeful. His example should animate her. She would
+      bravely bear the present, and share his hopes of the future: with these
+      brighter views Nature co-operated. The instincts of approaching maternity
+      brightened the future. She fell into gentle reveries, and saw her husband
+      return, and saw herself place their infant in his arms with all a wife's,
+      a mother's pride.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In due course came another long letter from the equator, with a full
+      journal, and more words of hope. Home in less than a year, with reputation
+      increased by this last cure; home, to part no more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ah! what a changed wife he should find! how frugal, how candid, how full
+      of appreciation, admiration, and love, of the noblest, dearest husband
+      that ever breathed!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Cicely Treherne waited some weeks, to let kinder sentiments return.
+      She then called in Dear Street, but found Mrs. Staines was gone to
+      Gravesend. She wrote to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a few days she received a reply, studiously polite and cold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This persistent injustice mortified her at last. She said to herself,
+      &ldquo;Does she think his departure was no loss to ME? It was to her interests,
+      as well as his, I sacrificed my own selfish wishes. I will write to her no
+      more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This resolution she steadily maintained. It was shaken for a moment, when
+      she heard, by a side wind, that Mrs. Staines was fast approaching the
+      great pain and peril of women. Then she wavered. But no. She prayed for
+      her by name in the Liturgy, but she troubled her no more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This state of things lasted some six weeks, when she received a letter
+      from her cousin Tadcaster, close on the heels of his last, to which she
+      had replied as I have indicated. She knew his handwriting, and opened it
+      with a smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That smile soon died off her horror-stricken face. The letter ran thus:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      TRISTAN D'ACUNHA, Jan. 5.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      DEAR CICELY,&mdash;A terrible thing has just happened. We signalled a
+      raft, with a body on it, and poor Dr. Staines leaned out of the port-hole,
+      and fell overboard. Three boats were let down after him; but it all went
+      wrong, somehow, or it was too late. They could never find him, he was
+      drowned; and the funeral service was read for the poor fellow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We are all sadly cut up. Everybody loved him. It was dreadful next day at
+      dinner, when his chair was empty. The very sailors cried at not finding
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      First of all, I thought I ought to write to his wife. I know where she
+      lives; it is called Kent Villa, Gravesend. But I was afraid; it might kill
+      her: and you are so good and sensible, I thought I had better write to
+      you, and perhaps you could break it to her by degrees, before it gets in
+      all the papers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I send this from the island, by a small vessel, and paid him ten pounds to
+      take it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Your affectionate cousin,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      TADCASTER.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Words are powerless to describe a blow like this: the amazement, the
+      stupor, the reluctance to believe&mdash;the rising, swelling, surging
+      horror. She sat like a woman of stone, crumpling the letter. &ldquo;Dead!&mdash;dead?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For a long time this was all her mind could realize&mdash;that Christopher
+      Staines was dead. He who had been so full of life and thought and genius,
+      and worthier to live than all the world, was dead; and a million nobodies
+      were still alive, and he was dead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She lay back on the sofa, and all the power left her limbs. She could not
+      move a hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But suddenly she started up; for a noble instinct told her this blow must
+      not fall on the wife as it had on her, and in her time of peril.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had her bonnet on in a moment, and for the first time in her life,
+      darted out of the house without her maid. She flew along the streets,
+      scarcely feeling the ground. She got to Dear Street, and obtained Philip
+      Staines's address. She flew to it, and there learned he was down at Kent
+      Villa. Instantly she telegraphed to her maid to come down to her at
+      Gravesend, with things for a short visit, and wait for her at the station;
+      and she went down by train to Gravesend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hitherto she had walked on air, driven by one overpowering impulse. Now,
+      as she sat in the train, she thought a little of herself. What was before
+      her? To break to Mrs. Staines that her husband was dead. To tell her all
+      her misgivings were more than justified. To encounter her cold civility,
+      and let her know, inch by inch, it must be exchanged for curses and
+      tearing of hair; her husband was dead. To tell her this, and in the
+      telling of it, perhaps reveal that it was HER great bereavement, as well
+      as the wife's, for she had a deeper affection for him than she ought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Well, she trembled like an aspen leaf, trembled like one in an ague, even
+      as she sat. But she persevered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A noble woman has her courage; not exactly the same as that which leads
+      forlorn hopes against bastions bristling with rifles and tongued with
+      flames and thunderbolts; yet not inferior to it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Tadcaster, small and dull, but noble by birth and instinct, had seen the
+      right thing for her to do; and she, of the same breed, and nobler far, had
+      seen it too; and the great soul steadily drew the recoiling heart and
+      quivering body to this fiery trial, this act of humanity&mdash;to do which
+      was terrible and hard, to shirk it, cowardly and cruel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She reached Gravesend, and drove in a fly to Kent Villa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The door was opened by a maid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Mrs. Staines at home?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, ma'am, she is at HOME: but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can I see her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, no, ma'am, not at present.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I must see her. I am an old friend. Please take her my card. Lady
+      Cicely Treherne.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The maid hesitated, and looked confused. &ldquo;Perhaps you don't know, ma'am.
+      Mrs. Staines, she is&mdash;the doctor have been in the house all day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, the doctor! I believe Dr. Philip Staines is here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, that IS the doctor, ma'am. Yes, he is here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, pray let me see him&mdash;or no; I had better see Mr. Lusignan.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Master have gone out for the day, ma'am; but if you'll step in the
+      drawing-room, I'll tell the doctor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Cicely waited in the drawing-room some time, heart-sick and
+      trembling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last Dr. Philip came in, with her card in his hand, looking evidently a
+      little cross at the interruption. &ldquo;Now, madam, please tell me, as briefly
+      as you can, what I can do for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you Dr. Philip Staines?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am, madam, at your service&mdash;for five minutes. Can't quit my
+      patient long, just now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, sir, thank God I have found you. Be prepared for ill news&mdash;sad
+      news&mdash;a terrible calamity&mdash;I can't speak. Read that, sir.&rdquo; And
+      she handed him Tadcaster's note.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He took it, and read it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He buried his face in his hands. &ldquo;Christopher! my poor, poor boy!&rdquo; he
+      groaned. But suddenly a terrible anxiety seized him. &ldquo;Who knows of this?&rdquo;
+       he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only myself, sir. I came here to break it to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a good, kind lady, for being so thoughtful. Madam, if this gets
+      to my niece's ears, it will kill her, as sure as we stand here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then let us keep it from her. Command me, sir. I will do anything. I will
+      live here&mdash;take the letters in&mdash;the journals&mdash;anything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; you have done your part, and God bless you for it. You must not
+      stay here. Your ladyship's very presence, and your agitation, would set
+      the servants talking, and some idiot-fiend among them babbling&mdash;there
+      is nothing so terrible as a fool.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I remain at the inn, sir; just one night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh yes, I wish you would; and I will run over, if all is well with her&mdash;well
+      with her? poor unfortunate girl!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Cicely saw he wished her gone, and she went directly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At nine o'clock that same evening, as she lay on a sofa in the best room
+      of the inn, attended by her maid, Dr. Philip Staines came to her. She
+      dismissed her maid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Philip was too old, in other words, had lost too many friends, to be
+      really broken down by bereavement; but he was strangely subdued. The loud
+      tones were out of him, and the loud laugh, and even the keen sneer. Yet he
+      was the same man; but with a gentler surface; and this was not without its
+      pathos.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, madam,&rdquo; said he gravely and quietly. &ldquo;It is as it always has been.
+      'As is the race of leaves, so that of man.' When one falls, another comes.
+      Here's a little Christopher come, in place of him that is gone: a brave,
+      beautiful boy, ma'am; the finest but one I ever brought into the world. He
+      is come to take his father's place in our hearts&mdash;I see you valued
+      his poor father, ma'am&mdash;but he comes too late for me. At your age,
+      ma'am, friendships come naturally; they spring like loves in the soft
+      heart of youth: at seventy, the gate is not so open; the soil is more
+      sterile. I shall never care for another Christopher; never see another
+      grow to man's estate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The mother, sir,&rdquo; sobbed Lady Cicely; &ldquo;the poor mother?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Like them all&mdash;poor creature: in heaven, madam; in heaven. New life!
+      new existence! a new character. All the pride, glory, rapture, and
+      amazement of maternity&mdash;thanks to her ignorance, which we must
+      prolong, or I would not give one straw for her life, or her son's. I shall
+      never leave the house till she does know it, and come when it may, I dread
+      the hour. She is not framed by nature to bear so deadly a shock.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her father, sir. Would he not be the best person to break it to her? He
+      was out to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her father, ma'am? I shall get no help from him. He is one of those soft,
+      gentle creatures, that come into the world with what your canting fools
+      call a mission; and his mission is to take care of number one. Not
+      dishonestly, mind you, nor violently, nor rudely, but doucely and calmly.
+      The care a brute like me takes of his vitals, that care Lusignan takes of
+      his outer cuticle. His number one is a sensitive plant. No scenes, no
+      noise; nothing painful&mdash;by-the-by, the little creature that writes in
+      the papers, and calls calamities PAINFUL, is of Lusignan's breed. Out
+      to-day! of course he was out, ma'am: he knew from me his daughter would be
+      in peril all day, so he visited a friend. He knew his own tenderness, and
+      evaded paternal sensibilities: a self-defender. I count on no help from
+      that charming man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A man! I call such creachaas weptiles!&rdquo; said Lady Cicely, her ghastly
+      cheek coloring for a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you give them a false importance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the course of this interview, Lady Cicely accused herself sadly of
+      having interfered between man and wife, and with the best intentions
+      brought about this cruel calamity. &ldquo;Judge, then, sir,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;how
+      grateful I am to you for undertaking this cruel task. I was her
+      schoolfellow, sir, and I love her dearly; but she has turned against me,
+      and now, oh, with what horror she will regard me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madam,&rdquo; said the doctor, &ldquo;there is nothing more mean and unjust than to
+      judge others by events that none could foresee. Your conscience is clear.
+      You did your best for my poor nephew: but Fate willed it otherwise. As for
+      my niece, she has many virtues, but justice is one you must not look for
+      in that quarter. Justice requires brains. It's a virtue the heart does not
+      deal in. You must be content with your own good conscience, and an old
+      man's esteem. You did all for the best; and this very day you have done a
+      good, kind action. God bless you for it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he left her; and next day she went sadly home, and for many a long
+      day the hollow world saw nothing of Cicely Treherne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Mr. Lusignan came home that night, Dr. Philip told him the miserable
+      story, and his fears. He received it, not as Philip had expected. The
+      bachelor had counted without his dormant paternity. He was terror-stricken&mdash;abject&mdash;fell
+      into a chair, and wrung his hands, and wept piteously. To keep it from his
+      daughter till she should be stronger, seemed to him chimerical,
+      impossible. However, Philip insisted it must be done; and he must make
+      some excuse for keeping out of her way, or his manner would rouse her
+      suspicions. He consented readily to that, and indeed left all to Dr.
+      Philip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Philip trusted nobody; not even his own confidential servant. He
+      allowed no journal to come into the house without passing through his
+      hands, and he read them all before he would let any other soul in the
+      house see them. He asked Rosa to let him be her secretary and open her
+      letters, giving as a pretext that it would be as well she should have no
+      small worries or trouble just now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I was never so well able to bear them. It must be a
+      great thing to put me out now. I am so happy, and live in the future.
+      Well, dear uncle, you can if you like&mdash;what does it matter?&mdash;only
+      there must be one exception: my own Christie's letters, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; said he, wincing inwardly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The very next day came a letter of condolence from Miss Lucas. Dr. Philip
+      intercepted it, and locked it up, to be shown her at a more fitting time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But how could he hope to keep so public a thing as this from entering the
+      house in one of a hundred newspapers?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went into Gravesend, and searched all the newspapers, to see what he
+      had to contend with. To his horror, he found it in several dailies and
+      weeklies, and in two illustrated papers. He sat aghast at the difficulty
+      and the danger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The best thing he could think of was to buy them all, and cut out the
+      account. He did so, and brought all the papers, thus mutilated, into the
+      house, and sent them into the kitchen. He said to his old servant, &ldquo;These
+      may amuse Mr. Lusignan's people, and I have extracted all that interests
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      By these means he hoped that none of the servants would go and buy more of
+      these same papers elsewhere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Notwithstanding these precautions, he took the nurse apart, and said,
+      &ldquo;Now, you are an experienced woman, and to be trusted about an excitable
+      patient. Mind, I object to any female servant entering Mrs. Staines's room
+      with gossip. Keep them outside the door for the present, please. Oh, and
+      nurse, if anything should happen, likely to grieve or to worry her, it
+      must be kept from her entirely: can I trust you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall add ten guineas to your fee, if she gets through the month
+      without a shock or disturbance of any kind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stared at him, inquiringly. Then she said,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may rely on me, doctor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I feel I may. Still, she alarms me. She looks quiet enough, but she is
+      very excitable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Not all these precautions gave Dr. Philip any real sense of security;
+      still less did they to Mr. Lusignan. He was not a tender father, in small
+      things, but the idea of actual danger to his only child was terrible to
+      him and he now passed his life in a continual tremble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This is the less to be wondered at, when I tell you that even the stout
+      Philip began to lose his nerve, his appetite, his sleep, under this hourly
+      terror and this hourly torture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Well did the great imagination of antiquity feign a torment, too great for
+      the mind long to endure, in the sword of Damocles suspended by a single
+      hair over his head. Here the sword hung over an innocent creature, who
+      smiled beneath it, fearless; but these two old men must sit and watch the
+      sword, and ask themselves how long before that subtle salvation shall
+      snap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ill news travels fast,&rdquo; says the proverb. &ldquo;The birds of the air shall
+      carry the matter,&rdquo; says Holy Writ; and it is so. No bolts nor bars, no
+      promises nor precautions, can long shut out a great calamity from the ears
+      it is to blast, the heart it is to wither. The very air seems full of it,
+      until it falls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa's child was more than a fortnight old; and she was looking more
+      beautiful than ever, as is often the case with a very young mother, and
+      Dr. Philip complimented her on her looks. &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;you reap the
+      advantage of being good, and obedient, and keeping quiet. In another ten
+      days or so, I may take you to the seaside for a week. I have the honor to
+      inform you that from about the fourth to the tenth of March there is
+      always a week of fine weather, which takes everybody by surprise, except
+      me. It does not astonish me, because I observe it is invariable. Now, what
+      would you say if I gave you a week at Herne Bay, to set you up
+      altogether?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As you please, dear uncle,&rdquo; said Mrs. Staines, with a sweet smile. &ldquo;I
+      shall be very happy to go, or to stay. I shall be happy everywhere, with
+      my darling boy, and the thought of my husband. Why, I count the days till
+      he shall come back to me. No, to us; to us, my pet. How dare a naughty
+      mammy say to 'me,' as if 'me' was half the 'portance of oo, a precious
+      pets!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Philip was surprised into a sigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter, dear?&rdquo; said Rosa, very quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, dear, the matter. You sighed; you, the laughing philosopher.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did I?&rdquo; said he, to gain time. &ldquo;Perhaps I remembered the uncertainty of
+      human life, and of all mortal hopes. The old will have their thoughts, my
+      dear. They have seen so much trouble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, uncle dear, he is a very healthy child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you told me yourself carelessness was the cause so many children
+      die.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She gave him a curious and rather searching look; then, leaning over her
+      boy, said, &ldquo;Mammy's not afraid. Beautiful Pet was not born to die
+      directly. He will never leave his mam-ma. No, uncle, he never can. For my
+      life is bound in his and his dear father's. It is a triple cord: one go,
+      go all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She said this with a quiet resolution that chilled Uncle Philip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment the nurse, who had been bending so pertinaciously over some
+      work that her eyes were invisible, looked quickly up, cast a furtive
+      glance at Mrs. Staines, and finding she was employed for the moment, made
+      an agitated signal to Dr. Philip. All she did was to clench her two hands
+      and lift them half way to her face, and then cast a frightened look
+      towards the door; but Philip's senses were so sharpened by constant alarm
+      and watching, that he saw at once something serious was the matter. But as
+      he had asked himself what he should do in case of some sudden alarm, he
+      merely gave a nod of intelligence to the nurse, scarcely perceptible, then
+      rose quietly from his seat, and went to the window. &ldquo;Snow coming, I
+      think,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;For all that we shall have the March summer in ten days.
+      You mark my words.&rdquo; He then went leisurely out of the room; at the door he
+      turned, and, with all the cunning he was master of, said, &ldquo;Oh, by the by,
+      come to my room, nurse, when you are at leisure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, doctor,&rdquo; said the nurse, but never moved. She was too bent on hiding
+      the agitation she really felt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Had you not better go to him, nurse?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps I had, madam.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She rose with feigned indifference, and left the room. She walked
+      leisurely down the passage, then, casting a hasty glance behind her, for
+      fear Mrs. Staines should be watching her, hurried into the doctor's room.
+      They met at once in the middle of the room, and Mrs. Briscoe burst out,
+      &ldquo;Sir, it is known all over the house!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heaven forbid! What is known?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What you would give the world to keep from her. Why, sir, the moment you
+      cautioned me, of course I saw there was trouble. But little I thought&mdash;sir,
+      not a servant in the kitchen or the stable but knows that her husband&mdash;poor
+      thing! poor thing!&mdash;Ah! there goes the housemaid&mdash;to have a look
+      at her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop her!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Briscoe had not waited for this; she rushed after the woman, and told
+      her Mrs. Staines was sleeping, and the room must not be entered on any
+      account.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, very well,&rdquo; said the maid, rather sullenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Briscoe saw her return to the kitchen, and came back to Dr. Staines;
+      he was pacing the room in torments of anxiety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Doctor,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;it is the old story: 'Servants' friends, the master's
+      enemies.' An old servant came here to gossip with her friend the cook (she
+      never could abide her while they were together, by all accounts), and told
+      her the whole story of his being drowned at sea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Philip groaned, &ldquo;Cursed chatterbox!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;What is to be done?
+      Must we break it to her now? Oh, if I could only buy a few days more! The
+      heart to be crushed while the body is weak! It is too cruel. Advise me,
+      Mrs. Briscoe. You are an experienced woman, and I think you are a
+      kind-hearted woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir,&rdquo; said Mrs. Briscoe, &ldquo;I had the name of it, when I was younger&mdash;before
+      Briscoe failed, and I took to nursing; which it hardens, sir, by use, and
+      along of the patients themselves; for sick folk are lumps of selfishness;
+      we see more of them than you do, sir. But this I WILL say, 'tisn't
+      selfishness that lies now in that room, waiting for the blow that will
+      bring her to death's door, I'm sore afraid; but a sweet, gentle,
+      thoughtful creature, as ever supped sorrow; for I don't know how 'tis,
+      doctor, nor why 'tis, but an angel like that has always to sup sorrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you do not advise me,&rdquo; said the doctor, in agitation, &ldquo;and something
+      must be done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Advise you, sir; it is not for me to do that. I am sure I'm at my wits'
+      ends, poor thing! Well, sir, I don't see what you can do, but try and
+      break it to her. Better so, than let it come to her like a clap of
+      thunder. But I think, sir, I'd have a wet-nurse ready, before I said much:
+      for she is very quick&mdash;and ten to one but the first word of such a
+      thing turns her blood to gall. Sir, I once knew a poor woman&mdash;she was
+      a carpenter's wife&mdash;a-nursing her child in the afternoon&mdash;and in
+      runs a foolish woman, and tells her he was killed dead, off a scaffold.
+      'Twas the man's sister told her. Well, sir, she was knocked stupid like,
+      and she sat staring, and nursing of her child, before she could take it in
+      rightly. The child was dead before supper-time, and the woman was not long
+      after. The whole family was swept away, sir, in a few hours, and I mind
+      the table was not cleared he had dined on, when they came to lay them out.
+      Well-a-day, nurses see sorrow!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We all see sorrow that live long, Mrs. Briscoe. I am heart-broken myself;
+      I am desperate. You are a good soul, and I'll tell you. When my nephew
+      married this poor girl, I was very angry with him; and I soon found she
+      was not fit to be a struggling man's wife; and then I was very angry with
+      her. She had spoiled a first-rate physician, I thought. But, since I knew
+      her better, it is all changed. She is so lovable. How I shall ever tell
+      her this terrible thing, God knows. All I know is, that I will not throw a
+      chance away. Her body SHALL be stronger, before I break her heart. Cursed
+      idiots, that could not save a single man, with their boats, in a calm sea!
+      Lord forgive me for blaming people, when I was not there to see. I say I
+      will give her every chance. She shall not know it till she is stronger:
+      no, not if I live at her door, and sleep there, and all. Good God! inspire
+      me with something. There is always something to be done, if one could but
+      see it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Briscoe sighed and said, &ldquo;Sir, I think anything is better than for
+      her to hear it from a servant&mdash;and they are sure to blurt it out.
+      Young women are such fools.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; I see what it is,&rdquo; said Dr. Philip. &ldquo;I have gone all wrong from
+      the first. I have been acting like a woman, when I should have acted like
+      a man. Why, I only trusted YOU by halves. There was a fool for you. Never
+      trust people by halves.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, now I shall go at it like a man. I have a vile opinion of
+      servants; but no matter. I'll try them: they are human, I suppose. I'll
+      hit them between the eyes like a man. Go to the kitchen, Mrs. Briscoe, and
+      tell them I wish to speak to all the servants, indoors or out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stopped at the door, and said, &ldquo;I had better get back to her, as soon
+      as I have told them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what shall I tell her, sir? Her first word will be to ask me what you
+      wanted me for. I saw that in her eye. She was curious: that is why she
+      sent me after you so quick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Philip groaned. He felt he was walking among pitfalls. He rapidly
+      flavored some distilled water with orange-flower, then tinted it a
+      beautiful pink, and bottled it. &ldquo;There,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;I was mixing a new
+      medicine. Tablespoon, four times a day: had to filter it. Any lie you
+      like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Briscoe went to the kitchen, and gave her message: then went to Mrs.
+      Staines with the mixture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Philip went down to the kitchen, and spoke to the servants very
+      solemnly. He said, &ldquo;My good friends, I am come to ask your help in a
+      matter of life and death. There is a poor young woman up-stairs; she is a
+      widow, and does not know it; and must not know it yet. If the blow fell
+      now, I think it would kill her: indeed, if she hears it all of a sudden,
+      at any time, that might destroy her. We are in so sore a strait that a
+      feather may turn the scale. So we must try all we can to gain a little
+      time, and then trust to God's mercy after all. Well, now, what do you say?
+      Will you help me keep it from her, till the tenth of March, say? and then
+      I will break it to her by degrees. Forget she is your mistress. Master and
+      servant, that is all very well at a proper time; but this is the time to
+      remember nothing but that we are all one flesh and blood. We lie down
+      together in the churchyard, and we hope to rise together where there will
+      be no master and servant. Think of the poor unfortunate creature as your
+      own flesh and blood, and tell me, will you help me try and save her, under
+      this terrible blow?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, doctor, that we will,&rdquo; said the footman. &ldquo;Only you give us our
+      orders, and you will see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no right to give you orders; but I entreat you not to show her by
+      word or look, that calamity is upon her. Alas! it is only a reprieve you
+      can give her and to me. The bitter hour MUST come when I must tell her she
+      is a widow, and her boy an orphan. When that day comes, I will ask you all
+      to pray for me that I may find words. But now I ask you to give me that
+      ten days' reprieve. Let the poor creature recover a little strength,
+      before the thunderbolt of affliction falls on her head. Will you promise
+      me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They promised heartily; and more than one of the women began to cry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A general assent will not satisfy me,&rdquo; said Dr. Philip. &ldquo;I want every
+      man, and every woman, to give me a hand upon it; then I shall feel sure of
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The men gave him their hands at once. The women wiped their hands with
+      their aprons, to make sure they were clean, and gave him their hands too.
+      The cook said, &ldquo;If any one of us goes from it, this kitchen will be too
+      hot to hold her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody will go from it, cook,&rdquo; said the doctor. &ldquo;I'm not afraid of that;
+      and now since you have promised me, out of your own good hearts, I'll try
+      and be even with you. If she knows nothing of it by the tenth of March,
+      five guineas to every man and woman in this kitchen. You shall see that,
+      if you can be kind, we can be grateful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He then hurried away. He found Mr. Lusignan in the drawing-room, and told
+      him all this. Lusignan was fluttered, but grateful. &ldquo;Ah, my good friend,&rdquo;
+       said he, &ldquo;this is a hard trial to two old men, like you and me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is,&rdquo; said Philip. &ldquo;It has shown me my age. I declare I am trembling;
+      I, whose nerves were iron. But I have a particular contempt for servants.
+      Mercenary wretches! I think Heaven inspired me to talk to them. After all,
+      who knows? perhaps we might find a way to their hearts, if we did not
+      eternally shock their vanity, and forget that it is, and must be, far
+      greater than our own. The women gave me their tears, and the men were
+      earnest. Not one hand lay cold in mine. As for your kitchen-maid, I'd
+      trust my life to that girl. What a grip she gave me! What strength! What
+      fidelity was in it! My hand was never GRASPED before. I think we are safe
+      for a few days more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lusignan sighed. &ldquo;What does it all come to? We are pulling the trigger
+      gently, that is all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; that is not it. Don't let us confound the matter with similes,
+      please. Keep them for children.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Staines left her bed; and would have left her room, but Dr. Philip
+      forbade it strictly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day, seated in her arm-chair, she said to the nurse, before Dr.
+      Philip, &ldquo;Nurse, why do the servants look so curiously at me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Briscoe cast a hasty glance at Dr. Philip, and then said, &ldquo;I don't
+      know, madam. I never noticed that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncle, why did nurse look at you before she answered such a simple
+      question?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know. What question?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About the servants.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, about the servants!&rdquo; said he contemptuously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You should not turn up your nose at them, for they are all most kind and
+      attentive. Only, I catch them looking at me so strangely; really&mdash;as
+      if they&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rosa, you are taking me quite out of my depth. The looks of servant
+      girls! Why, of course a lady in your condition is an object of especial
+      interest to them. I dare say they are saying to one another, 'I wonder
+      when my turn will come!' A fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind&mdash;that
+      is a proverb, is it not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To be sure. I forgot that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She said no more; but seemed thoughtful, and not quite satisfied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On this Dr. Philip begged the maids to go near her as little as possible.
+      &ldquo;You are not aware of it,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;but your looks, and your manner of
+      speaking, rouse her attention, and she is quicker than I thought she was,
+      and observes very subtly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was done; and then she complained that nobody came near her. She
+      insisted on coming down-stairs; it was so dull.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Philip consented, if she would be content to receive no visits for a
+      week.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She assented to that; and now passed some hours every day in the
+      drawing-room. In her morning wrappers, so fresh and crisp, she looked
+      lovely, and increased in health and strength every day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Philip used to look at her, and his very flesh would creep at the
+      thought that, ere long, he must hurl this fair creature into the dust of
+      affliction; must, with a word, take the ruby from her lips, the rose from
+      her cheeks, the sparkle from her glorious eyes&mdash;eyes that beamed on
+      him with sweet affection, and a mouth that never opened, but to show some
+      simplicity of mind, or some pretty burst of the sensitive heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He put off, and put off, and at last cowardice began to whisper, &ldquo;Why tell
+      her the whole truth at all? Why not take her through stages of doubt,
+      alarm, and, after all, leave a grain of hope till her child gets so rooted
+      in her heart that&rdquo;&mdash;But conscience and good sense interrupted this
+      temporary thought, and made him see to what a horrible life of suspense he
+      should condemn a human creature, and live a perpetual lie, and be always
+      at the edge of some pitfall or other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day, while he sat looking at her, with all these thoughts, and many
+      more, coursing through his mind, she looked up at him, and surprised him.
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said she gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter, my dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nothing,&rdquo; said she cunningly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncle, dear,&rdquo; said she presently, &ldquo;when do we go to Herne Bay?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, Dr. Philip had given that up. He had got the servants at Kent Villa
+      on his side, and he felt safer here than in any strange place: so he said,
+      &ldquo;I don't know: that all depends. There is plenty of time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, uncle,&rdquo; said Rosa gravely. &ldquo;I wish to leave this house. I can hardly
+      breathe in it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! your native air?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mystery is not my native air; and this house is full of mystery. Voices
+      whisper at my door, and the people don't come in. The maids cast strange
+      looks at me, and hurry away. I scolded that pert girl Jane, and she
+      answered me as meek as Moses. I catch you looking at me, with love, and
+      something else. What is that something&mdash;? It is Pity: that is what it
+      is. Do you think, because I am called a simpleton, that I have no eyes,
+      nor ears, nor sense? What is this secret which you are all hiding from one
+      person, and that is me? Ah! Christopher has not written these five weeks.
+      Tell me the truth, for I will know it,&rdquo; and she started up in wild
+      excitement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Dr. Philip saw the hour was come.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He said, &ldquo;My poor girl, you have read us right. I am anxious about
+      Christopher, and all the servants know it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anxious, and not tell ME; his wife; the woman whose life is bound up in
+      his.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was it for us to retard your convalescence, and set you fretting, and
+      perhaps destroy your child? Rosa, my darling, think what a treasure Heaven
+      has sent you, to love and care for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said she, trembling, &ldquo;Heaven has been good to me; I hope Heaven
+      will always be as good to me. I don't deserve it; but then I tell God so.
+      I am very grateful, and very penitent. I never forget that, if I had been
+      a good wife, my husband&mdash;five weeks is a long time. Why do you
+      tremble so? Why are you so pale&mdash;a strong man like you? CALAMITY!
+      CALAMITY!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Philip hung his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at him, started wildly up, then sank back into her chair. So
+      the stricken deer leaps, then falls. Yet even now she put on a deceitful
+      calm, and said, &ldquo;Tell me the truth. I have a right to know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stammered out, &ldquo;There is a report of an accident at sea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She kept silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of a passenger drowned&mdash;out of that ship. This, coupled with his
+      silence, fills our hearts with fear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is worse&mdash;you are breaking it to me&mdash;you have gone too far
+      to stop. One word: is he alive? Oh, say he is alive!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Philip rang the bell hard, and said in a troubled voice, &ldquo;Rosa, think of
+      your child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not when my husband&mdash;Is he alive or dead?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is hard to say, with such a terrible report about, and no letters,&rdquo;
+       faltered the old man, his courage failing him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you afraid of? Do you think I can't die, and go to him? Alive,
+      or dead?&rdquo; and she stood before him, raging and quivering in every limb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The nurse came in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fetch her child,&rdquo; he cried; &ldquo;God have mercy on her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, then he is dead,&rdquo; said she, with stony calmness. &ldquo;I drove him to sea,
+      and he is dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The nurse rushed in, and held the child to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She would not look at it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dead!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, our poor Christie is gone&mdash;but his child is here&mdash;the
+      image of him. Do not forget the mother. Have pity on his child and yours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take it out of my sight!&rdquo; she screamed. &ldquo;Away with it, or I shall murder
+      it, as I have murdered its father. My dear Christie, before all that live!
+      I have killed him. I shall die for him. I shall go to him.&rdquo; She raved and
+      tore her hair. Servants rushed in. Rosa was carried to her bed, screaming
+      and raving, and her black hair all down on both sides, a piteous sight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Swoon followed swoon, and that very night brain fever set in with all its
+      sad accompaniments; a poor bereaved creature, tossing and moaning; pale,
+      anxious, but resolute faces of the nurse and the kitchen-maid watching: on
+      one table a pail of ice, and on another the long, thick raven hair of our
+      poor Simpleton, lying on clean silver paper. Dr. Philip had cut it all off
+      with his own hand, and he was now folding it up, and crying over it; for
+      he thought to himself, &ldquo;Perhaps in a few days more only this will be left
+      of her on earth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XV.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Staines fell head-foremost into the sea with a heavy plunge. Being an
+      excellent swimmer, he struck out the moment he touched the water, and that
+      arrested his dive, and brought him up with a slant, shocked and panting,
+      drenched and confused. The next moment he saw, as through a fog&mdash;his
+      eyes being full of water&mdash;something fall from the ship. He breasted
+      the big waves, and swam towards it: it rose on the top of a wave, and he
+      saw it was a life-buoy. Encumbered with wet clothes, he seemed impotent in
+      the big waves; they threw him up so high, and down so low.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Almost exhausted, he got to the life-buoy, and clutched it with a fierce
+      grasp and a wild cry of delight. He got it over his head, and, placing his
+      arms round the buoyant circle, stood with his breast and head out of
+      water, gasping.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He now drew a long breath, and got his wet hair out of his eyes, already
+      smarting with salt water, and, raising himself on the buoy, looked out for
+      help.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He saw, to his great concern, the ship already at a distance. She seemed
+      to have flown, and she was still drifting fast away from him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He saw no signs of help. His heart began to turn as cold as his drenched
+      body. A horrible fear crossed him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But presently he saw the weather-boat filled, and fall into the water; and
+      then a wave rolled between him and the ship, and he only saw her topmast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next time he rose on a mighty wave he saw the boats together astern of
+      the vessel, but not coming his way; and the gloom was thickening, the ship
+      becoming indistinct, and all was doubt and horror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A life of agony passed in a few minutes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He rose and fell like a cork on the buoyant waves&mdash;rose and fell, and
+      saw nothing but the ship's lights, now terribly distant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But at last, as he rose and fell, he caught a few fitful glimpses of a
+      smaller light rising and falling like himself. &ldquo;A boat!&rdquo; he cried, and
+      raising himself as high as he could, shouted, cried, implored for help. He
+      stretched his hands across the water. &ldquo;This way! this way!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The light kept moving, but it came no nearer. They had greatly underrated
+      the drift. The other boat had no light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Minutes passed of suspense, hope, doubt, dismay, terror. Those minutes
+      seemed hours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the agony of suspense the quaking heart sent beads of sweat to the
+      brow, though the body was immersed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And the gloom deepened, and the cold waves flung him up to heaven with
+      their giant arms, and then down again to hell: and still that light, his
+      only hope, was several hundred yards from him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Only for a moment at a time could his eyeballs, straining with agony,
+      catch this will-o'-the-wisp, the boat's light. It groped the sea up and
+      down, but came no near.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When what seemed days of agony had passed, suddenly a rocket rose in the
+      horizon&mdash;so it seemed to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lost man gave a shriek of joy; so prone are we to interpret things
+      hopefully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Misery! The next time he saw that little light, that solitary spark of
+      hope, it was not quite so near as before. A mortal sickness fell on his
+      heart. The ship had recalled the boats by rocket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He shrieked, he cried, he screamed, he raved. &ldquo;Oh, Rosa! Rosa! for her
+      sake, men, men, do not leave me. I am here! here!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In vain. The miserable man saw the boat's little light retire, recede, and
+      melt into the ship's larger light, and that light glided away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, a cold, deadly stupor fell on him. Then, death's icy claw seized his
+      heart, and seemed to run from it to every part of him. He was a dead man.
+      Only a question of time. Nothing to gain by floating.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the despairing mind could not quit the world in peace, and even here
+      in the cold, cruel sea, the quivering body clung to this fragment of life,
+      and winced at death's touch, though more merciful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He despised this weakness; he raged at it; he could not overcome it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Unable to live or to die, condemned to float slowly, hour by hour, down
+      into death's jaws.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To a long, death-like stupor succeeded frenzy. Fury seized this great and
+      long-suffering mind. It rose against the cruelty and injustice of his
+      fate. He cursed the world, whose stupidity had driven him to sea, he
+      cursed remorseless nature; and at last he railed on the God who made him,
+      and made the cruel water, that was waiting for his body. &ldquo;God's justice!
+      God's mercy! God's power! they are all lies,&rdquo; he shouted, &ldquo;dreams,
+      chimeras, like Him the all-powerful and good, men babble of by the fire.
+      If there was a God more powerful than the sea, and only half as good as
+      men are, he would pity my poor Rosa and me, and send a hurricane to drive
+      those caitiffs back to the wretch they have abandoned. Nature alone is
+      mighty. Oh, if I could have her on my side, and only God against me! But
+      she is as deaf to prayer as He is: as mechanical and remorseless. I am a
+      bubble melting into the sea. Soul I have none; my body will soon be
+      nothing, nothing. So ends an honest, loving life. I always tried to love
+      my fellow-creatures. Curse them! curse them! Curse the earth! Curse the
+      sea! Curse all nature: there is no other God for me to curse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The moon came out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He raised his head and staring eyeballs, and cursed her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The wind began to whistle, and flung spray in his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He raised his fallen head and staring eyeballs, and cursed the wind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While he was thus raving, he became sensible of a black object to
+      windward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It looked like a rail, and a man leaning on it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stared, he cleared the wet hair from his eyes, and stared again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The thing, being larger than himself and partly out of water, was drifting
+      to leeward faster than himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stared and trembled, and at last it came nearly abreast, black, black.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave a loud cry, and tried to swim towards it; but encumbered with his
+      life-buoy, he made little progress. The thing drifted abreast of him, but
+      ten yards distant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they each rose high upon the waves, he saw it plainly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the very raft that had been the innocent cause of his sad fate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He shouted with hope, he swam, he struggled; he got near it, but not to
+      it; it drifted past, and he lost his chance of intercepting it. He
+      struggled after it. The life-buoy would not let him catch it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he gave a cry of agony, rage, despair, and flung off the life-buoy,
+      and risked all on this one chance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He gains a little on the raft.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He loses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He gains: he cries, &ldquo;Rosa! Rosa!&rdquo; and struggles with all his soul, as well
+      as his body: he gains.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But when almost within reach, a wave half drowns him, and he loses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He cries, &ldquo;Rosa! Rosa!&rdquo; and swims high and strong. &ldquo;Rosa! Rosa! Rosa!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He is near it. He cries, &ldquo;Rosa! Rosa!&rdquo; and with all the energy of love and
+      life flings himself almost out of the water, and catches hold of the
+      nearest thing on the raft.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the dead man's leg.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed as if it would come away in his grasp. He dared not try to pull
+      himself up by that. But he held on by it, panting, exhausting, faint.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This faintness terrified him. &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; thought he, &ldquo;if I faint now, all is
+      over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Holding by that terrible and strange support, he made a grasp, and caught
+      hold of the woodwork at the bottom of the rail. He tried to draw himself
+      up. Impossible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was no better off than with his life-buoy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But in situations so dreadful, men think fast; he worked gradually round
+      the bottom of the raft by his hands, till he got to leeward, still holding
+      on. There he found a solid block of wood at the edge of the raft. He
+      prised himself carefully up; the raft in that part then sank a little: he
+      got his knee upon the timber of the raft, and with a wild cry seized the
+      nearest upright, and threw both arms round it and clung tight. Then first
+      he found breath to speak. &ldquo;THANK GOD!&rdquo; he cried, kneeling on the timber,
+      and grasping the upright post&mdash;&ldquo;OH, THANK GOD! THANK GOD!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVI.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank God!&rdquo; why, according to his theory, it should have been &ldquo;Thank
+      Nature.&rdquo; But I observe that, in such cases, even philosophers are
+      ungrateful to the mistress they worship.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Our philosopher not only thanked God, but being on his knees, prayed
+      forgiveness for his late ravings, prayed hard, with one arm curled round
+      the upright, lest the sea, which ever and anon rushed over the bottom of
+      the raft, should swallow him up in a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he rose carefully, and wedged himself into the corner of the raft
+      opposite to that other figure, ominous relic of the wild voyage the
+      new-comer had entered upon; he put both arms over the rail, and stood
+      erect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The moon was now up; but so was the breeze: fleecy clouds flew with vast
+      rapidity across her bright face, and it was by fitful though vivid glances
+      Staines examined the raft and his companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The raft was large, and well made of timbers tied and nailed together, and
+      a strong rail ran round it resting on several uprights. There were also
+      some blocks of a very light wood screwed to the horizontal timbers, and
+      these made it float high.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But what arrested and fascinated the man's gaze was his dead companion,
+      sole survivor, doubtless, of a horrible voyage, since the raft was not
+      made for one, nor by one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a skeleton, or nearly, whose clothes the seabirds had torn, and
+      pecked every limb in all the fleshy parts; the rest of the body had dried
+      to dark leather on the bones. The head was little more than an eyeless
+      skull; but in the fitful moonlight, those huge hollow caverns seemed
+      gigantic lamp-like eyes, and glared at him fiendishly, appallingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sickened at the sight. He tried not to look at it; but it would be
+      looked at, and threaten him in the moonlight, with great lack-lustre eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The wind whistled, and lashed his face with spray torn off the big waves,
+      and the water was nearly up to his knees, and the raft tossed so wildly,
+      it was all he could do to hold on in his corner: in which struggle, still
+      those monstrous lack-lustre eyes, like lamps of death, glared at him in
+      the moon; all else was dark, except the fiery crests of the black
+      mountain-billows, tumbling and raging all around.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What a night!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, before morning, the breeze sank, the moon set, and a sombre quiet
+      succeeded, with only that grim figure in outline dimly visible. Owing to
+      the motion still retained by the waves, it seemed to nod and rear, and be
+      ever preparing to rush upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sun rose glorious, on a lovely scene; the sky was a very mosaic of
+      colors sweet and vivid, and the tranquil, rippling sea, peach-colored to
+      the horizon, with lines of diamonds where the myriad ripples broke into
+      smiles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines was asleep, exhausted. Soon the light awoke him, and he looked up.
+      What an incongruous picture met his eye: that heaven of color all above
+      and around, and right before him, like a devil stuck in mid-heaven, that
+      grinning corpse, whose fate foreshadowed his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But daylight is a great strengthener of the nerves; the figure no longer
+      appalled him&mdash;a man who had long learned to look with Science's calm
+      eye upon the dead. When the sea became like glass, and from peach-color
+      deepened to rose, he walked along the raft, and inspected the dead man. He
+      found it was a man of color, but not a black. The body was not kept in its
+      place, as he had supposed, merely by being jammed into the angle caused by
+      the rail; it was also lashed to the corner upright by a long, stout belt.
+      Staines concluded this had kept the body there, and its companions had
+      been swept away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was not lost on him: he removed the belt for his own use: he then
+      found it was not only a belt, but a receptacle; it was nearly full of
+      small, hard substances that felt like stones.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he had taken it off the body, he felt a compunction. &ldquo;Ought he to rob
+      the dead, and expose it to be swept into the sea at the first wave, like a
+      dead dog?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was about to replace the belt, when a middle course occurred to him. He
+      was a man who always carried certain useful little things about him, viz.,
+      needles, thread, scissors, and string. He took a piece of string, and
+      easily secured this poor light skeleton to the raft. The belt he strapped
+      to the rail, and kept for his own need.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now hunger gnawed him. No food was near. There was nothing but the
+      lovely sea and sky, mosaic with color, and that grim, ominous skeleton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hunger comes and goes many times before it becomes insupportable. All that
+      day and night, and the next day, he suffered its pangs; and then it became
+      torture, but the thirst maddening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Towards night fell a gentle rain. He spread a handkerchief and caught it.
+      He sucked the handkerchief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This revived him, and even allayed in some degree the pangs of hunger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day was cloudless. A hot sun glared on his unprotected head, and
+      battered down his enfeebled frame.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He resisted as well as he could. He often dipped his head, and as often
+      the persistent sun, with cruel glare, made it smoke again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day the same: but the strength to meet it was waning. He lay down and
+      thought of Rosa, and wept bitterly. He took the dead man's belt, and
+      lashed himself to the upright. That act, and his tears for his beloved,
+      were almost his last acts of perfect reason: for next day came the
+      delusions and the dreams that succeed when hunger ceases to torture, and
+      the vital powers begin to ebb. He lay and saw pleasant meadows with
+      meandering streams, and clusters of rich fruit that courted the hand and
+      melted in the mouth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ever and anon they vanished, and he saw grim death looking down on him
+      with those big cavernous eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By and by, whether his body's eye saw the grim skeleton, or his mind's eye
+      the juicy fruits, green meadows, and pearly brooks, all was shadowy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So, in a placid calm, beneath a blue sky, the raft drifted dead, with its
+      dead freight, upon the glassy purple, and he drifted, too, towards the
+      world unknown.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There came across the waters to that dismal raft a thing none too common,
+      by sea or land&mdash;a good man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was tall, stalwart, bronzed, and had hair like snow, before his time,
+      for he had known trouble. He commanded a merchant steamer, bound for
+      Calcutta, on the old route.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man at the mast-head descried a floating wreck, and hailed the deck
+      accordingly. The captain altered his course without one moment's
+      hesitation, and brought up alongside, lowered a boat, and brought the
+      dead, and the breathing man, on board.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A young middy lifted Staines in his arms from the wreck to the boat; he
+      whose person I described in chapter one weighed now no more than that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Men are not always rougher than women. Their strength and nerve enable
+      them now and then to be gentler than buttery-fingered angels, who drop
+      frail things through sensitive agitation, and break them. These rough men
+      saw Staines was hovering between life and death, and they handled him like
+      a thing the ebbing life might be shaken out of in a moment. It was pretty
+      to see how gingerly the sailors carried the sinking man up the ladder, and
+      one fetched swabs, and the others laid him down softly on them at their
+      captain's feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well done, men,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Poor fellow! Pray Heaven, we may not have come
+      too late. Now stand aloof a bit. Send the surgeon aft.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The surgeon came, and looked, and felt the heart. He shook his head, and
+      called for brandy. He had Staines's head raised, and got half a spoonful
+      of diluted brandy down his throat. But there was an ominous gurgling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After several such attempts at intervals, he said plainly the man's life
+      could not be saved by ordinary means.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then try extraordinary,&rdquo; said the captain. &ldquo;My orders are that he is to
+      be saved. There is life in him. You have only got to keep it there. He
+      MUST be saved; he SHALL be saved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like to try Dr. Staines's remedy,&rdquo; said the surgeon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Try it, then what is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A bath of beef-tea. Dr. Staines says he applied it to a starved child&mdash;in
+      the Lancet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take a hundred-weight of beef, and boil it in the coppers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus encouraged, the surgeon went to the cook, and very soon beef was
+      steaming on a scale and at a rate unparalleled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime, Captain Dodd had the patient taken to his own cabin, and he and
+      his servant administered weak brandy and water with great caution and
+      skill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no perceptible result. But at all events there was life and
+      vital instinct left, or he could not have swallowed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus they hovered about him for some hours, and then the bath was ready.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain took charge of the patient's clothes: the surgeon and a sailor
+      bathed him in lukewarm beef-tea, and then covered him very warm with
+      blankets next the skin. Guess how near a thing it seemed to them, when I
+      tell you they dared not rub him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just before sunset his pulse became perceptible. The surgeon administered
+      half a spoonful of egg-flip. The patient swallowed it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By and by he sighed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He must not be left, day or night,&rdquo; said the captain. &ldquo;I don't know who
+      or what he is, but he is a man; and I could not bear him to die now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That night Captain Dodd overhauled the patient's clothes, and looked for
+      marks on his linen. There were none.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor devil&rdquo; said Captain Dodd. &ldquo;He is a bachelor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Dodd found his pocket-book, with bank-notes, two hundred pounds.
+      He took the numbers, made a memorandum of them, and locked the notes up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He lighted his lamp, examined the belt, unripped it, and poured out the
+      contents on his table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were dazzling. A great many large pieces of amethyst, and some of
+      white topaz and rock crystal; a large number of smaller stones,
+      carbuncles, chrysolites, and not a few emeralds. Dodd looked at them with
+      pleasure, sparkling in the lamplight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a lot!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I wonder what they are worth!&rdquo; He sent for the
+      first mate, who, he knew, did a little private business in precious
+      stones. &ldquo;Masterton,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;oblige me by counting these stones with me,
+      and valuing them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Masterton stared, and his mouth watered. However, he named the various
+      stones and valued them. He said there was one stone, a large emerald,
+      without a flaw, that was worth a heavy sum by itself; and the pearls, very
+      fine: and looking at the great number, they must be worth a thousand
+      pounds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Dodd then entered the whole business carefully in the ship's log:
+      the living man he described thus: &ldquo;About five feet six in height, and
+      about fifty years of age.&rdquo; Then he described the notes and the stones very
+      exactly, and made Masterton, the valuer, sign the log.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines took a good deal of egg-flip that night, and next day ate solid
+      food; but they questioned him in vain; his reason was entirely in
+      abeyance: he had become an eater, and nothing else. Whenever they gave him
+      food, he showed a sort of fawning animal gratitude. Other sentiment he had
+      none, nor did words enter his mind any more than a bird's. And since it is
+      not pleasant to dwell on the wreck of a fine understanding, I will only
+      say that they landed him at Cape Town, out of bodily danger, but weak, and
+      his mind, to all appearance, a hopeless blank.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They buried the skeleton,&mdash;read the service of the English Church
+      over a Malabar heathen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dodd took Staines to the hospital, and left twenty pounds with the
+      governor of it to cure him. But he deposited Staines's money and jewels
+      with a friendly banker, and begged that the principal cashier might see
+      the man, and be able to recognize him, should he apply for his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cashier came and examined him, and also the ruby ring on his finger&mdash;a
+      parting gift from Rosa&mdash;and remarked this was a new way of doing
+      business.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, it is the only one, sir,&rdquo; said Dodd. &ldquo;How can we give you his
+      signature? He is not in his right mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nor never will be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't say that, sir. Let us hope for the best, poor fellow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Having made these provisions, the worthy captain weighed anchor, with a
+      warm heart and a good conscience. Yet the image of the man he had saved
+      pursued him, and he resolved to look after him next time he should coal at
+      Cape Town, homeward bound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines recovered his strength in about two months; but his mind returned
+      in fragments, and very slowly. For a long, long time he remembered nothing
+      that had preceded his great calamity. His mind started afresh, aided only
+      by certain fixed habits; for instance, he could read and write: but,
+      strange as it may appear, he had no idea who he was; and when his memory
+      cleared a little on that head, he thought his surname was Christie, but he
+      was not sure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nevertheless, the presiding physician discovered in him a certain progress
+      of intelligence, which gave him great hopes. In the fifth month, having
+      shown a marked interest in the other sick patients, coupled with a
+      disposition to be careful and attentive, they made him a nurse, or rather
+      a sub-nurse under the special orders of a responsible nurse. I really
+      believe it was done at first to avoid the alternative of sending him
+      adrift, or transferring him to the insane ward of the hospital. In this
+      congenial pursuit he showed such watchfulness and skill, that by and by
+      they found they had got a treasure. Two months after that he began to talk
+      about medicine, and astonished them still more. He became the puzzle of
+      the establishment. The doctor and surgeon would converse with him, and try
+      and lead him to his past life; but when it came to that, he used to put
+      his hands to his head with a face of great distress, and it was clear some
+      impassable barrier lay between his growing intelligence and the past
+      events of his life. Indeed, on one occasion, he said to his kind friend
+      the doctor, &ldquo;The past!&mdash;a black wall! a black wall!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ten months after his admission he was promoted to be an attendant, with a
+      salary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He put by every shilling of it; for he said, &ldquo;A voice from the dark past
+      tells me money is everything in this world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A discussion was held by the authorities as to whether he should be
+      informed he had money and jewels at the bank or not.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon the whole, it was thought advisable to postpone this information,
+      lest he should throw it away; but they told him he had been picked up at
+      sea, and both money and jewels found on him; they were in safe hands, only
+      the person was away for the time. Still, he was not to look upon himself
+      as either friendless or moneyless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this communication he showed an almost childish delight, that confirmed
+      the doctor in his opinion he was acting prudently, and for the real
+      benefit of an amiable and afflicted person, not yet to be trusted with
+      money and jewels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      In his quality of attendant on the sick, Staines sometimes conducted a
+      weak but convalescent patient into the open air; and he was always pleased
+      to do this, for the air of the Cape carries health and vigor on its wings.
+      He had seen its fine recreative properties, and he divined, somehow, that
+      the minds of convalescents ought to be amused, and so he often begged the
+      doctor to let him take a convalescent abroad. Sooner than not, he would
+      draw the patient several miles in a Bath chair. He rather liked this; for
+      he was a Hercules, and had no egotism or false pride where the sick were
+      concerned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, these open-air walks exerted a beneficial influence on his own
+      darkened mind. It is one thing to struggle from idea to idea; it is
+      another when material objects mingle with the retrospect; they seem to
+      supply stepping-stones in the gradual resuscitation of memory and reason.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The ships going out of port were such a steppingstone to him, and a vague
+      consciousness came back to him of having been in a ship.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Unfortunately, along with this reminiscence came a desire to go in one
+      again; and this sowed discontent in his mind, and the more that mind
+      enlarged, the more he began to dislike the hospital and its confinement.
+      The feeling grew, and bade fair to disqualify him for his humble office.
+      The authorities could not fail to hear of this, and they had a little
+      discussion about parting with him; but they hesitated to turn him adrift,
+      and they still doubted the propriety of trusting him with money and
+      jewels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While matters were in this state a remarkable event occurred. He drew a
+      sick patient down to the quay one morning, and watched the business of the
+      port with the keenest interest. A ship at anchor was unloading, and a
+      great heavy boat was sticking to her side like a black leech. Presently
+      this boat came away, and moved sluggishly towards the shore, rather by
+      help of the tide than of the two men who went through the form of
+      propelling her with two monstrous sweeps, while a third steered her. She
+      contained English goods: agricultural implements, some cases, four horses,
+      and a buxom young woman with a thorough English face. The woman seemed a
+      little excited, and as she neared the landing-place, she called out in
+      jocund tones to a young man on the shore, &ldquo;It is all right, Dick; they are
+      beauties,&rdquo; and she patted the beasts as people do who are fond of them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She stepped lightly ashore, and then came the slower work of landing her
+      imports. She bustled about, like a hen over her brood, and wasn't always
+      talking, but put in her word every now and then, never crossly, and always
+      to the point.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines listened to her, and examined her with a sort of puzzled look; but
+      she took no notice of him; her whole soul was in the cattle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They got the things on board well enough; but the horses were frightened
+      at the gangway, and jibbed. Then a man was for driving them, and poked one
+      of them in the quarter; he snorted and reared directly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Man alive!&rdquo; cried the young woman, &ldquo;that is not the way. They are docile
+      enough, but frightened. Encourage 'em, and let 'em look at it. Give 'em
+      time. More haste less speed, with timorous cattle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a very pleasant voice,&rdquo; said poor Staines, rather more
+      dictatorially than became the present state of his intellect. He added
+      softly, &ldquo;a true woman's voice;&rdquo; then gloomily, &ldquo;a voice of the past&mdash;the
+      dark, dark past.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this speech intruding itself upon the short sentences of business,
+      there was a roar of laughter, and Phoebe Falcon turned sharply round to
+      look at the speaker. She stared at him; she cried &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; and clasped her
+      hands, and colored all over. &ldquo;Why, sure,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I can't be mistook.
+      Those eyes&mdash;'tis you, doctor, isn't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Doctor?&rdquo; said Staines, with a puzzled look. &ldquo;Yes; I think they called me
+      doctor once. I'm an attendant in the hospital now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dick!&rdquo; cried Phoebe, in no little agitation. &ldquo;Come here this minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, afore I get the horses ashore?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, before you do another thing, or say another word. Come here, now.&rdquo; So
+      he came, and she told him to take a good look at the man. &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said she,
+      &ldquo;who is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Blest if I know,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, not know the man who saved your own life! Oh, Dick, what are your
+      eyes worth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This discourse brought the few persons within hearing into one band of
+      excited starers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dick took a good look, and said, &ldquo;I'm blest if I don't, though; it is the
+      doctor that cut my throat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This strange statement drew forth quite a shout of ejaculations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, better breathe through a slit than not at all,&rdquo; said Dick. &ldquo;Saved my
+      life with that cut, he did, didn't he, Pheeb?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That he did, Dick. Dear heart, I hardly know whether I am in my senses or
+      not, seeing him a-looking so blank. You try him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dick came forward. &ldquo;Sure you remember me, sir. Dick Dale. You cut my
+      throat, and saved my life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cut your throat! why, that would kill you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not the way you done it. Well, sir, you ain't the man you was, that is
+      clear; but you was a good friend to me, and there's my hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, Dick,&rdquo; said Staines, and took his hand. &ldquo;I don't remember YOU.
+      Perhaps you are one of the past. The past is dead wall to me&mdash;a dark
+      dead wall,&rdquo; and he put his hands to his head with a look of distress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Everybody there now suspected the truth, and some pointed mysteriously to
+      their own heads.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe whispered an inquiry to the sick person.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He said a little pettishly, &ldquo;All I know is, he is the kindest attendant in
+      the ward, and very attentive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, then, he is in the public hospital.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course he is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The invalid, with the selfishness of his class, then begged Staines to
+      take him out of all this bustle down to the beach. Staines complied at
+      once, with the utmost meekness, and said, &ldquo;Good-by, old friends; forgive
+      me for not remembering you. It is my great affliction that the past is
+      gone from me&mdash;gone, gone.&rdquo; And he went sadly away, drawing his sick
+      charge like a patient mule.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe Falcon looked after him, and began to cry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, nay, Phoebe,&rdquo; said Dick; &ldquo;don't ye take on about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder at you,&rdquo; sobbed Phoebe. &ldquo;Good people, I'm fonder of my brother
+      than he is of himself, it seems; for I can't take it so easy. Well, the
+      world is full of trouble. Let us do what we are here for. But I shall pray
+      for the poor soul every night, that his mind may be given back to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So then she bustled, and gave herself to getting the cattle on shore, and
+      the things put on board her wagon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But when this was done, she said to her brother, &ldquo;Dick, I did not think
+      anything on earth could take my heart off the cattle and the things we
+      have got from home; but I can't leave this without going to the hospital
+      about our poor dear doctor: and it is late for making a start, any way&mdash;and
+      you mustn't forget the newspapers for Reginald&mdash;he is so fond of them&mdash;and
+      you must contrive to have one sent out regular after this, and I'll go to
+      the hospital.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She went, and saw the head doctor, and told him he had got an attendant
+      there she had known in England in a very different condition, and she had
+      come to see if there was anything she could do for him&mdash;for she felt
+      very grateful to him, and grieved to see him so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor was pleased and surprised, and put several questions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she gave him a clear statement of what he had done for Dick in
+      England.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said the doctor, &ldquo;I believe it is the same man; for, now you tell
+      me this&mdash;yes, one of the nurses told me he knew more about medicine
+      than she did. His name, if you please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His name, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, his name. Of course you know his name. Is it Christie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Doctor,&rdquo; said Phoebe, blushing, &ldquo;I don't know what you will think of me,
+      but I don't know his name. Laws forgive me, I never had the sense to ask
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A shade of suspicion crossed the doctor's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe saw it, and colored to the temples. &ldquo;Oh, sir,&rdquo; she cried piteously,
+      &ldquo;don't go for to think I have told you a lie! why should I? and indeed I
+      am not of that sort, nor Dick neither. Sir, I'll bring him to you, and he
+      will say the same. Well, we were all in terror and confusion, and I met
+      him accidentally in the street. He was only a customer till then, and paid
+      ready money, so that is how I never knew his name, but if I hadn't been
+      the greatest fool in England, I should have asked his wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! he has a wife?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, sir, the loveliest lady you ever clapped eyes on, and he is almost as
+      handsome; has eyes in his head like jewels; 'twas by them I knew him on
+      the quay, and I think he knew my voice again, said as good as he had heard
+      it in past times.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did he? Then we have got him,&rdquo; cried the doctor energetically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La, Sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; if he knows your voice, you will be able in time to lead his memory
+      back; at least, I think so. Do you live in Cape Town?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear heart, no. I live at my own farm, a hundred and eighty miles from
+      this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a pity!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;hum!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, if you think I could do the poor doctor good by having him with me,
+      you have only to say the word, and out he goes with Dick and me to-morrow
+      morning. We should have started for home to-night, but for this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you in earnest, madam?&rdquo; said the doctor, opening his eyes. &ldquo;Would you
+      really encumber yourself with a person whose reason is in suspense, and
+      may never return?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But that is not his fault, sir. Why, if a dog had saved my brother's
+      life, I'd take it home, and keep it all its days; and this is a man, and a
+      worthy man. Oh, sir, when I saw him brought down so, and his beautiful
+      eyes clouded like, my very bosom yearned over the poor soul; a kind act
+      done in dear old England, who can see the man in trouble here, and not
+      repay it&mdash;ay, if it cost one's blood. But indeed he is strong and
+      healthy, and hands are always scarce our way, and the odds are he will
+      earn his meat one way or t'other; and if he doesn't, why, all the better
+      for me; I shall have the pleasure of serving him for nought that once
+      served me for neither money nor reward.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a good woman,&rdquo; said the doctor warmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's better, and there's worse,&rdquo; said Phoebe quietly, and even a
+      little coldly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More of the latter,&rdquo; said the doctor dryly. &ldquo;Well, Mrs.&mdash;?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Falcon, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shall hand him over to your care: but first&mdash;just for form&mdash;if
+      you are a married woman, we should like to see Dick here: he is your
+      husband, I presume.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ploebe laughed merrily. &ldquo;Dick is my brother; and he can't be spared to
+      come here. Dick! he'd say black was white if I told him to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then let us see your husband about it&mdash;just for form.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My husband is at the farm. I could not venture so far away, and not leave
+      him in charge.&rdquo; If she had said, &ldquo;I will not bring him into temptation,&rdquo;
+       that would have been nearer the truth. &ldquo;Let that fly stick on the wall,
+      sir. What I do, my husband will approve.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see how it is. You rule the roost.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe did not reply point-blank to that; she merely said, &ldquo;All my
+      chickens are happy, great and small,&rdquo; and an expression of lofty, womanly,
+      innocent pride illuminated her face and made it superb for a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In short, it was settled that Staines should accompany her next morning to
+      Dale's Kloof Farm, if he chose. On inquiry, it appeared that he had just
+      returned to the hospital with his patient. He was sent for, and Phoebe
+      asked him sweetly if he would go with her to her house, one hundred and
+      eighty miles away, and she would be kind to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On the water?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, by land; but 'tis a fine country, and you will see beautiful deer
+      and things running across the plains, and&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall I find the past again, the past again?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, poor soul, that we shall, God willing. You and I, we will hunt it
+      together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at her, and gave her his hand. &ldquo;I will go with you. Your face
+      belongs to the past, so does your voice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He then inquired, rather abruptly, had she any children. She smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, that I have, the loveliest little boy you ever saw. When you are as
+      you used to be, you will be his doctor, won't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I will nurse him, and you will help me find the past.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe then begged Staines to be ready to start at six in the morning. She
+      and Dick would take him up on their way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While she was talking to him the doctor slipped out, and to tell the truth
+      he went to consult with another authority, whether he should take this
+      opportunity of telling Staines that he had money and jewels at the bank:
+      he himself was half inclined to do so; but the other, who had not seen
+      Phoebe's face, advised him to do nothing of the kind. &ldquo;They are always
+      short of money, these colonial farmers,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;she would get every
+      shilling out of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Most would; but this is such an honest face.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but she is a mother, you say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, what mother could be just to a lunatic, with her own sweet angel
+      babes to provide for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true,&rdquo; said Dr. &mdash;&mdash;. &ldquo;Maternal love is apt to modify
+      the conscience.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I would do,&mdash;I would take her address, and make her promise to
+      write if he gets well, and if he does get well then write to HIM, and tell
+      him all about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. &mdash;&mdash; acted on this shrewd advice, and ordered a bundle to be
+      made up for the traveller out of the hospital stores: it contained a nice
+      light summer suit and two changes of linen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVIII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Next morning, Staines and Dick Dale walked through the streets of Cape
+      Town side by side. Dick felt the uneasiness of a sane man, not familiar
+      with the mentally afflicted, who suddenly finds himself alone with one.
+      Insanity turns men oftenest into sheep and hares; but it does now and then
+      make them wolves and tigers; and that has saddled the insane in general
+      with a character for ferocity. Young Dale, then, cast many a suspicious
+      glance at his comrade, as he took him along. These glances were
+      reassuring: Christopher's face had no longer the mobility, the expressive
+      changes, that mark the superior mind; his countenance was monotonous: but
+      the one expression was engaging; there was a sweet, patient, lamb-like
+      look: the glorious eye a little troubled and perplexed, but wonderfully
+      mild. Dick Dale looked and looked, and his uneasiness vanished. And the
+      more he looked, the more did a certain wonder creep over him, and make him
+      scarce believe the thing he knew; viz., that a learned doctor had saved
+      him from the jaws of death by rare knowledge, sagacity, courage, and skill
+      combined: and that mighty man of wisdom was brought down to this lamb, and
+      would go north, south, east, or west, with sweet and perfect submission,
+      even as he, Dick Dale, should appoint. With these reflections honest Dick
+      felt his eyes get a little misty, and, to use those words of Scripture,
+      which nothing can surpass or equal, his bowels yearned over the man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for Christopher, he looked straight forward, and said not a word till
+      they cleared the town; but when he saw the vast flowery vale, and the
+      far-off violet hills, like Scotland glorified, he turned to Dick with an
+      ineffable expression of sweetness and good fellowship, and said, &ldquo;Oh,
+      beautiful! We'll hunt the past together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We&mdash;will&mdash;SO,&rdquo; said Dick, with a sturdy and indeed almost a
+      stern resolution.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, this he said, not that he cared for the past, nor intended to waste
+      the present by going upon its predecessor's trail; but he had come to a
+      resolution&mdash;full three minutes ago&mdash;to humor his companion to
+      the top of his bent, and say &ldquo;Yes&rdquo; with hypocritical vigor to everything
+      not directly and immediately destructive to him and his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next moment they turned a corner and came upon the rest of their
+      party, hitherto hidden by the apricot hedge and a turning in the road. A
+      blue-black Kafir, with two yellow Hottentot drivers, man and boy, was
+      harnessing, in the most primitive mode, four horses on to the six oxen
+      attached to the wagon; and the horses were flattening their ears, and
+      otherwise resenting the incongruity. Meantime a fourth figure, a colossal
+      young Kafir woman, looked on superior with folded arms, like a sable Juno
+      looking down with that absolute composure upon the struggles of man and
+      other animals, which Lucretius and his master Epicurus assigned to the
+      Divine nature. Without jesting, the grandeur, majesty, and repose of this
+      figure were unsurpassable in nature, and such as have vanished from
+      sculpture two thousand years and more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dick Dale joined the group immediately, and soon arranged the matter.
+      Meantime, Phoebe descended from the wagon, and welcomed Christopher very
+      kindly, and asked him if he would like to sit beside her, or to walk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He glanced into the wagon; it was covered and curtained, and dark as a
+      cupboard. &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said he, timidly, &ldquo;I shall see more of the past out
+      here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you will, poor soul,&rdquo; said Phoebe kindly, &ldquo;and better for your health:
+      but you must not go far from the wagon, for I'm a fidget; and I have got
+      the care of you now, you know, for want of a better. Come, Ucatella; you
+      must ride with me, and help me sort the things; they are all
+      higgledy-piggledy.&rdquo; So those two got into the wagon through the back
+      curtains. Then the Kafir driver flourished his kambok, or long whip, in
+      the air, and made it crack like a pistol, and the horses reared, and the
+      oxen started and slowly bored in between them, for they whinnied, and
+      kicked, and spread out like a fan all over the road; but a flick or two
+      from the terrible kambok soon sent them bleeding and trembling and rubbing
+      shoulders, and the oxen, mildly but persistently goring their
+      recalcitrating haunches, the intelligent animals went ahead, and revenged
+      themselves by breaking the harness. But that goes for little in Cape
+      travel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The body of the wagon was long and low and very stout. The tilt strong and
+      tight-made. The roof inside, and most of the sides, lined with green
+      baize. Curtains of the same to the little window and the back. There was a
+      sort of hold literally built full of purchases; a small fireproof safe;
+      huge blocks of salt; saws, axes, pickaxes, adzes, flails, tools
+      innumerable, bales of wool and linen stuff, hams, and two hundred empty
+      sacks strewn over all. In large pigeon-holes fixed to the sides were light
+      goods, groceries, collars, glaring cotton handkerchiefs for Phoebe's
+      aboriginal domestics, since not every year did she go to Cape Town, a
+      twenty days' journey by wagon: things dangled from the very roof; but no
+      hard goods there, if you please, to batter one's head in a spill. Outside
+      were latticed grooves with tent, tent-poles, and rifles. Great pieces of
+      cork, and bags of hay and corn, hung dangling from mighty hooks&mdash;the
+      latter to feed the cattle, should they be compelled to camp out on some
+      sterile spot on the Veldt, and methinks to act as buffers, should the
+      whole concern roll down a nullah or little precipice, no very uncommon
+      incident in the blessed region they must pass to reach Dale's Kloof.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Harness mended; fresh start. The Hottentots and Kafir vociferated and
+      yelled, and made the unearthly row of a dozen wild beasts wrangling: the
+      horses drew the bullocks, they the wagon; it crawled and creaked, and its
+      appendages wobbled finely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Slowly they creaked and wobbled past apricot hedges and detached houses
+      and huts, and got into an open country without a tree, but here and there
+      a stunted camel-thorn. The soil was arid, and grew little food for man or
+      beast; yet, by a singular freak of nature, it put forth abundantly things
+      that here at home we find it harder to raise than homely grass and oats;
+      the ground was thickly clad with flowers of delightful hues; pyramids of
+      snow or rose-color bordered the track; yellow and crimson stars bejewelled
+      the ground, and a thousand bulbous plants burst into all imaginable
+      colors, and spread a rainbow carpet to the foot of the violet hills; and
+      all this glowed, and gleamed, and glittered in a sun shining with
+      incredible brightness and purity of light, but, somehow, without giving a
+      headache or making the air sultry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher fell to gathering flowers, and interrogating the past by means
+      of them; for he had studied botany: the past gave him back some pitiably
+      vague ideas. He sighed. &ldquo;Never mind,&rdquo; said he to Dick, and tapped his
+      forehead: &ldquo;it is here: it is only locked up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said Dick; &ldquo;nothing is lost when you know where 'tis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is a beautiful country,&rdquo; suggested Christopher. &ldquo;It is all flowers.
+      It is like the garden of&mdash;the garden of&mdash;locked up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is de&mdash;light&mdash;ful,&rdquo; replied the self-compelled optimist
+      sturdily. But here nature gave way; he was obliged to relieve his
+      agricultural bile by getting into the cart and complaining to his sister.
+      &ldquo;'Twill take us all our time to cure him. He have been bepraising this
+      here soil, which it is only fit to clean the women's kettles. 'Twouldn't
+      feed three larks to an acre, I know; no, NOR HALF SO MANY.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor soul! mayhap the flowers have took his eye. Sit here a bit, Dick. I
+      want to talk to you about a many things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While these two were conversing, Ucatella, who was very fond of Phoebe,
+      but abhorred wagons, stepped out and stalked by the side, like an ostrich,
+      a camelopard, or a Taglioni; nor did the effort with which she subdued her
+      stride to the pace of the procession appear: it was the poetry of walking.
+      Christopher admired it a moment; but the noble expanse tempted him, and he
+      strode forth like a giant, his lungs inflating in the glorious air, and
+      soon left the wagon far behind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The consequence was that when they came to a halt, and Dick and Phoebe got
+      out to release and water the cattle, there was Christopher's figure
+      retiring into space.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hanc rem aegre tulit Phoebe,&rdquo; as my old friend Livy would say. &ldquo;Oh dear!
+      oh dear! if he strays so far from us, he will be eaten up at nightfall by
+      jackals, or lions, or something. One of you must go after him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me go, missy,&rdquo; said Ucatella zealously, pleased with an excuse for
+      stretching her magnificent limbs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, but mayhap he will not come back with YOU: will he, Dick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That he will, like a lamb.&rdquo; Dick wanted to look after the cattle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yuke, my girl,&rdquo; said Phoebe, &ldquo;listen. He has been a good friend of ours
+      in trouble; and now he is not quite right HERE. So be very kind to him,
+      but be sure and bring him back, or keep him till we come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me bring him back alive, certain sure,&rdquo; said Ucatella, smiling from ear
+      to ear. She started with a sudden glide, like a boat taking the water, and
+      appeared almost to saunter away, so easy was the motion; but when you
+      looked at the ground she was covering, the stride, or glide, or whatever
+      it was, was amazing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She seem'd in walking to devour the way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher walked fast, but nothing like this; and as he stopped at times
+      to botanize and gaze at the violet hills, and interrogate the past, she
+      came up with him about five miles from the halting-place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She laid her hand quietly on his shoulder, and said, with a broad genial
+      smile, and a musical chuckle, &ldquo;Ucatella come for you. Missy want to speak
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! very well;&rdquo; and he turned back with her, directly; but she took him
+      by the hand to make sure; and they marched back peaceably, in silence, and
+      hand in hand. But he looked and looked at her, and at last he stopped dead
+      short, and said, a little arrogantly, &ldquo;Come, I know YOU. YOU are not
+      locked up;&rdquo; and he inspected her point-blank. She stood like an antique
+      statue, and faced the examination. &ldquo;You are 'the noble savage,'&rdquo; said he,
+      having concluded his inspection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;I be the housemaid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The housemaid?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Iss, the housemaid, Ucatella. So come on.&rdquo; And she drew him along, sore
+      perplexed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They met the cavalcade a mile from the halting-place, and Phoebe
+      apologized a little to Christopher. &ldquo;I hope you'll excuse me, sir,&rdquo; said
+      she, &ldquo;but I am just for all the world like a hen with her chickens; if but
+      one strays, I'm all in a flutter till I get him back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madam,&rdquo; said Christopher, &ldquo;I am very unhappy at the way things are locked
+      up. Please tell me truly, is this 'the housemaid,' or 'the noble savage'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, she is both, if you go to that, and the best creature ever
+      breathed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then she IS 'the noble savage'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, so they call her, because she is black.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, thank Heaven,&rdquo; said Christopher, &ldquo;the past is not all locked up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That afternoon they stopped at an inn. But Dick slept in the cart. At
+      three in the morning they took the road again, and creaked along
+      supernaturally loud under a purple firmament studded with huge stars, all
+      bright as moons, that lit the way quite clear, and showed black things
+      innumerable flitting to and fro; these made Phoebe shudder, but were no
+      doubt harmless; still Dick carried his double rifle, and a revolver in his
+      belt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They made a fine march in the cool, until some slight mists gathered, and
+      then they halted and breakfasted near a silvery kloof, and watered the
+      cattle. While thus employed, suddenly a golden tinge seemed to fall like a
+      lash on the vapors of night; they scudded away directly, as jackals before
+      the lion; the stars paled, and with one incredible bound, the mighty sun
+      leaped into the horizon, and rose into the sky. In a moment all the lesser
+      lamps of heaven were out, though late so glorious, and there was nothing
+      but one vast vaulted turquoise, and a great flaming topaz mounting with
+      eternal ardor to its centre.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This did not escape Christopher. &ldquo;What is this?&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;No twilight.
+      The tropics!&rdquo; He managed to dig that word out of the past in a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At ten o'clock the sun was so hot that they halted, and let the oxen loose
+      till sun-down. Then they began to climb the mountains.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The way was steep and rugged; indeed, so rough in places, that the cattle
+      had to jump over the holes, and as the wagon could not jump so cleverly,
+      it jolted appallingly, and many a scream issued forth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Near the summit, when the poor beasts were dead beat, they got into clouds
+      and storms, and the wind rushed howling at them through the narrow pass
+      with such fury it flattened the horses' ears, and bade fair to sweep the
+      whole cavalcade to the plains below.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher and Dick walked close behind, under the lee of the wagon.
+      Christopher said in Dick's ear, &ldquo;D'ye hear that? Time to reef topsails,
+      captain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is time to do SOMETHING,&rdquo; said Dick. He took advantage of a jutting
+      rock, drew the wagon half behind it and across the road, propped the
+      wheels with stones, and they all huddled to leeward, man and beast
+      indiscriminately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said Christopher, approvingly; &ldquo;we are lying to: a very&mdash;proper&mdash;course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They huddled and shivered three hours, and then the sun leaped into the
+      sky, and lo! a transformation scene. The cold clouds were first rosy
+      fleeces, then golden ones, then gold-dust, then gone; the rain was big
+      diamonds, then crystal sparks, then gone; the rocks and the bushes
+      sparkled with gem-like drops, and shone and smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The shivering party bustled, and toasted the potent luminary in hot
+      coffee; for Phoebe's wagon had a stove and chimney; and then they yoked
+      their miscellaneous cattle again, and breasted the hill. With many a jump,
+      and bump, and jolt, and scream from inside, they reached the summit, and
+      looked down on a vast slope, flowering but arid, a region of gaudy
+      sterility.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The descent was more tremendous than the ascent, and Phoebe got out, and
+      told Christopher she would liever cross the ocean twice than this dreadful
+      mountain once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Hottentot with the reins was now bent like a bow all the time, keeping
+      the cattle from flowing diverse over precipices, and the Kafir with his
+      kambok was here, and there, and everywhere, his whip flicking like a
+      lancet, and cracking like a horse-pistol, and the pair vied like Apollo
+      and Pan, not which could sing sweetest, but swear loudest. Having the
+      lofty hill for some hours between them and the sun, they bumped, and
+      jolted, and stuck in mud-holes, and flogged and swore the cattle out of
+      them again, till at last they got to the bottom, where ran a turbid kloof
+      or stream. It was fordable, but the recent rains had licked away the
+      slope; so the existing bank was two feet above the stream. Little recked
+      the demon drivers or the parched cattle; in they plunged promiscuously,
+      with a flop like thunder, followed by an awful splashing. The wagon stuck
+      fast in the mud, the horses tied themselves in a knot, and rolled about in
+      the stream, and the oxen drank imperturbably.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, the salt! the salt!&rdquo; screamed Phoebe, and the rocks re-echoed her
+      lamentations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The wagon was inextricable, the cattle done up, the savages lazy, so they
+      stayed for several hours. Christopher botanized, but not alone. Phoebe
+      drew Ucatella apart, and explained to her that when a man is a little
+      wrong in the head, it makes a child of him: &ldquo;So,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;you must
+      think he is your child, and never let him out of your sight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said the sable Juno, who spoke English ridiculously well, and
+      rapped out idioms; especially &ldquo;Come on,&rdquo; and &ldquo;All right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      About dusk, what the drivers had foreseen, though they had not the sense
+      to explain it, took place; the kloof dwindled to a mere gutter, and the
+      wagon stuck high and dry. Phoebe waved her handkerchief to Ucatella.
+      Ucatella, who had dogged Christopher about four hours without a word, now
+      took his hand, and said, &ldquo;My child, missy wants us; come on;&rdquo; and so led
+      him unresistingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The drivers, flogging like devils, cursing like troopers, and yelling like
+      hyenas gone mad, tried to get the wagon off; but it was fast as a rock.
+      Then Dick and the Hottentot put their shoulders to one wheel, and tried to
+      prise it up, while the Kafir ENCOURAGED the cattle with his thong.
+      Observing this, Christopher went in, with his sable custodian at his
+      heels, and heaved at the other embedded wheel. The wagon was lifted
+      directly, so that the cattle tugged it out, and they got clear. On
+      examination, the salt had just escaped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Says Ucatella to Phoebe, a little ostentatiously, &ldquo;My child is strong and
+      useful; make little missy a good slave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A slave! Heaven forbid!&rdquo; said Phoebe. &ldquo;He'll be a father to us all, once
+      he gets his head back; and I do think it is coming&mdash;but very slow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The next three days offered the ordinary incidents of African travel, but
+      nothing that operated much on Christopher's mind, which is the true point
+      of this narrative; and as there are many admirable books of African
+      travel, it is the more proper I should confine myself to what may be
+      called the relevant incidents of the journey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the sixth day from Cape Town, they came up with a large wagon stuck in
+      a mud-hole. There was quite a party of Boers, Hottentots, Kafirs, round
+      it, armed with whips, shamboks, and oaths, lashing and cursing without
+      intermission, or any good effect; and there were the wretched beasts
+      straining in vain at their choking yokes, moaning with anguish, trembling
+      with terror, their poor mild eyes dilated with agony and fear, and often,
+      when the blows of the cruel shamboks cut open their bleeding flesh, they
+      bellowed to Heaven their miserable and vain protest against this devil's
+      work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the past opened its stores, and lent Christopher a word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;BARBARIANS!&rdquo; he roared, and seized a gigantic Kafir by the throat, just
+      as his shambok descended for the hundredth time. There was a mighty
+      struggle, as of two Titans; dust flew round the combatants in a cloud; a
+      whirling of big bodies, and down they both went with an awful thud, the
+      Saxon uppermost, by Nature's law.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Kafir's companions, amazed at first, began to roll their eyes and draw
+      a knife or two; but Dick ran forward, and said, &ldquo;Don't hurt him: he is
+      wrong HERE.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This representation pacified them more readily than one might have
+      expected. Dick added hastily, &ldquo;We'll get you out of the hole OUR way, and
+      cry quits.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The proposal was favorably received, and the next minute Christopher and
+      Ucatella at one wheel, and Dick and the Hottentot at the other, with no
+      other help than two pointed iron bars bought for their shepherds, had
+      effected what sixteen oxen could not. To do this Dick Dale had bared his
+      arm to the shoulder; it was a stalwart limb, like his sister's, and he now
+      held it out all swollen and corded, and slapped it with his other hand.
+      &ldquo;Look'ee here, you chaps,&rdquo; said he: &ldquo;the worst use a man can put that
+      there to is to go cutting out a poor beast's heart for not doing more than
+      he can. You are good fellows, you Kafirs; but I think you have sworn never
+      to put your shoulder to a wheel. But, bless your poor silly hearts, a
+      little strength put on at the right place is better than a deal at the
+      wrong.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You hear that, you Kafir chaps?&rdquo; inquired Ucatella, a little arrogantly&mdash;for
+      a Kafir.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Kafirs, who had stood quite silent to imbibe these remarks, bowed
+      their heads with all the dignity and politeness of Roman senators, Spanish
+      grandees, etc.; and one of the party replied gravely, &ldquo;The words of the
+      white man are always wise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And his arm blanked* strong,&rdquo; said Christopher's late opponent, from
+      whose mind, however, all resentment had vanished.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     * I take this very useful expression from a delightful
+     volume by Mr. Boyle.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Thus spake the Kafirs; yet to this day never hath a man of all their tribe
+      put his shoulder to a wheel, so strong is custom in South Africa; probably
+      in all Africa; since I remember St. Augustin found it stronger than he
+      liked, at Carthage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ucatella went to Phoebe, and said, &ldquo;Missy, my child is good and brave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bother you and your child!&rdquo; said poor Phoebe. &ldquo;To think of his flying at
+      a giant like that, and you letting of him. I'm all of a tremble from head
+      to foot:&rdquo; and Phoebe relieved herself with a cry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, missy!&rdquo; said Ucatella.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, never mind me. Do go and look after your child, and keep him out
+      of more mischief. I wish we were safe at Dale's Kloof, I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ucatella complied, and went botanizing with Dr. Staines; but that
+      gentleman, in the course of his scientific researches into camomile
+      flowers and blasted heath, which were all that lovely region afforded,
+      suddenly succumbed and stretched out his limbs, and said, sleepily,
+      &ldquo;Good-night&mdash;U&mdash;cat&mdash;&rdquo; and was off into the land of Nod.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The wagon, which, by the way, had passed the larger but slower vehicle,
+      found him fast asleep, and Ucatella standing by him as ordered, motionless
+      and grand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear! what now?&rdquo; said Phoebe: but being a sensible woman, though in
+      the hen and chickens line, she said, &ldquo;'Tis the fighting and the
+      excitement. 'Twill do him more good than harm, I think:&rdquo; and she had him
+      bestowed in the wagon, and never disturbed him night nor day. He slept
+      thirty-six hours at a stretch; and when he awoke, she noticed a slight
+      change in his eye. He looked at her with an interest he had not shown
+      before, and said, &ldquo;Madam, I know you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank God for that,&rdquo; said Phoebe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You kept a little shop, in the other world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe opened her eyes with some little alarm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You understand&mdash;the world that is locked up&mdash;for the present.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir, so I did; and sold you milk and butter. Don't you mind?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&mdash;the milk and butter&mdash;they are locked up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The country became wilder, the signs of life miserably sparse; about every
+      twenty miles the farmhouse or hut of a degenerate Boer, whose children and
+      slaves pigged together, and all ran jostling, and the mistress screamed in
+      her shrill Dutch, and the Hottentots all chirped together, and confusion
+      reigned for want of method: often they went miles, and saw nothing but a
+      hut or two, with a nude Hottentot eating flesh, burnt a little, but not
+      cooked, at the door; and the kloofs became deeper and more turbid, and
+      Phoebe was in an agony about her salt, and Christopher advised her to
+      break it in big lumps, and hang it all about the wagon in sacks; and she
+      did, and Ucatella said profoundly, &ldquo;My child is wise;&rdquo; and they began to
+      draw near home, and Phoebe to fidget; and she said to Christopher, &ldquo;Oh,
+      dear! I hope they are all alive and well: once you leave home, you don't
+      know what may have happened by then you come back. One comfort, I've got
+      Sophy: she is very dependable, and no beauty, thank my stars.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That night, the last they had to travel, was cloudy, for a wonder, and
+      they groped with lanterns.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ucatella and her child brought up the rear. Presently there was a light
+      pattering behind them. The swift-eared Ucatella clutched Christopher's
+      arm, and turning round, pointed back, with eyeballs white and rolling.
+      There were full a dozen animals following them, whose bodies seemed
+      colorless as shadows, but their eyes little balls of flaming lime-light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;GUN!&rdquo; said Christie, and gave the Kafir's arm a pinch. She flew to the
+      caravan; he walked backwards, facing the foe. The wagon was halted, and
+      Dick ran back with two loaded rifles. In his haste he gave one to
+      Christopher, and repented at leisure; but Christopher took it, and handled
+      it like an experienced person, and said, with delight, &ldquo;VOLUNTEER.&rdquo; But
+      with this the cautious animals had vanished like bubbles. But Dick told
+      Christopher they would be sure to come back; he ordered Ucatella into the
+      wagon, and told her to warn Phoebe not to be frightened if guns should be
+      fired. This soothing message brought Phoebe's white face out between the
+      curtains, and she implored them to get into the wagon, and not tempt
+      Providence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not till I have got thee a kaross of jackal's fur.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll never wear it!&rdquo; said Phoebe violently, to divert him from his
+      purpose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Time will show,&rdquo; said Dick dryly. &ldquo;These varmint are on and off like
+      shadows, and as cunning as Old Nick. We two will walk on quite unconcerned
+      like, and as soon as ever the varmint are at our heels you give us the
+      office; and we'll pepper their fur&mdash;won't we, doctor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We&mdash;will&mdash;pepper&mdash;their fur,&rdquo; said Christopher, repeating
+      what to him was a lesson in the ancient and venerable English tongue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So they walked on expectant; and by and by the four-footed shadows with
+      large lime-light eyes came stealing on; and Phoebe shrieked, and they
+      vanished before the men could draw a bead on them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thou's no use at this work, Pheeb,&rdquo; said Dick. &ldquo;Shut thy eyes, and let us
+      have Yuke.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Iss, master: here I be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can bleat like a lamb; for I've heard ye.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Iss, master. I bleats beautiful;&rdquo; and she showed snowy teeth from ear to
+      ear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, when the varmint are at our heels, draw in thy woolly head,
+      and bleat like a young lamb. They won't turn from that, I know, the
+      vagabonds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Matters being thus prepared, they sauntered on; but the jackals were very
+      wary. They came like shadows, so departed&mdash;a great many times: but at
+      last being re-enforced, they lessened the distance, and got so close, that
+      Ucatella withdrew her head, and bleated faintly inside the wagon. The men
+      turned, levelling their rifles, and found the troop within twenty yards of
+      them. They wheeled directly: but the four barrels poured their flame, four
+      loud reports startled the night, and one jackal lay dead as a stone,
+      another limped behind the flying crowd, and one lay kicking. He was soon
+      despatched, and both carcasses flung over the patient oxen; and good-by
+      jackals for the rest of that journey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ucatella, with all a Kafir's love of fire-arms, clapped her hands with
+      delight. &ldquo;My child shoots loud and strong,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, ay,&rdquo; replied Phoebe; &ldquo;they are all alike; wherever there's men, look
+      for quarrelling and firing off. We had only to sit quiet in the wagon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay.&rdquo; said Dick, &ldquo;the cattle especially&mdash;for it is them the varmint
+      were after&mdash;and let 'em eat my Hottentots.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this picture of the cattle inside the wagon, and the jackals supping on
+      cold Hottentot alongside, Phoebe, who had no more humor than a cat, but a
+      heart of gold, shut up, and turned red with confusion at her false
+      estimate of the recent transaction in fur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the sun rose they found themselves in a tract somewhat less arid and
+      inhuman; and, at last, at the rise of a gentle slope, they saw, half a
+      mile before them, a large farmhouse partly clad with creepers, and a
+      little plot of turf, the fruit of eternal watering; item, a flower-bed;
+      item, snow-white palings; item, an air of cleanliness and neatness
+      scarcely known to those dirty descendants of clean ancestors, the Boers.
+      At some distance a very large dam glittered in the sun, and a troop of
+      snow-white sheep were watering at it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;ENGLAND!&rdquo; cried Christopher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, sir,&rdquo; said Phoebe; &ldquo;as nigh as man can make it.&rdquo; But soon she began
+      to fret: &ldquo;Oh, dear! where are they all? If it was me, I'd be at the door
+      looking out. Ah, there goes Yuke to rouse them up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, Pheeb, don't you fidget,&rdquo; said Dick kindly. &ldquo;Why, the lazy lot are
+      scarce out of their beds by this time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More shame for 'em. If they were away from me, and coming home, I should
+      be at the door day AND night, I know. Ah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She uttered a scream of delight, for just then, out came Ucatella, with
+      little Tommy on her shoulder, and danced along to meet her. As she came
+      close, she raised the chubby child high in the air, and he crowed; and
+      then she lowered him to his mother, who rushed at him, seized, and
+      devoured him with a hundred inarticulate cries of joy and love
+      unspeakable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;NATURE!&rdquo; said Christopher dogmatically, recognizing an old acquaintance,
+      and booking it as one more conquest gained over the past. But there was
+      too much excitement over the cherub to attend to him. So he watched the
+      woman gravely, and began to moralize with all his might. &ldquo;This,&rdquo; said he,
+      &ldquo;is what we used to call maternal love; and all animals had it, and that
+      is why the noble savage went for him. It was very good of you, Miss
+      Savage,&rdquo; said the poor soul sententiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good of her!&rdquo; cried Phoebe. &ldquo;She is all goodness. Savage, find me a
+      Dutchwoman like her! I'll give her a good cuddle for it;&rdquo; and she took the
+      Kafir round the neck, and gave her a hearty kiss, and made the little boy
+      kiss her too.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment out came a collie dog, hunting Ucatella by scent alone,
+      which process landed him headlong in the group; he gave loud barks of
+      recognition, fawned on Phoebe and Dick, smelt poor Christopher, gave a
+      growl of suspicion, and lurked about squinting, dissatisfied, and lowering
+      his tail.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thou art wrong, lad, for once,&rdquo; said Dick; &ldquo;for he's an old friend, and a
+      good one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;After the dog, perhaps some Christian will come to welcome us,&rdquo; said poor
+      Phoebe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Obedient to the wish, out walked Sophy, the English nurse, a scraggy
+      woman, with a very cocked nose and thin, pinched lips, and an air of
+      respectability and pertness mingled. She dropped a short courtesy, shot
+      the glance of a basilisk at Ucatella, and said stiffly, &ldquo;You are welcome
+      home, ma'am.&rdquo; Then she took the little boy as one having authority. Not
+      that Phoebe would have surrendered him; but just then Mr. Falcon strolled
+      out, with a cigar in his mouth, and Phoebe, with her heart in HER mouth,
+      flew to meet him. There was a rapturous conjugal embrace, followed by
+      mutual inquiries; and the wagon drew up at the door. Then, for the first
+      time, Falcon observed Staines, saw at once he was a gentleman, and touched
+      his hat to him, to which Christopher responded in kind, and remembered he
+      had done so in the locked-up past.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe instantly drew her husband apart by the sleeve. &ldquo;Who do you think
+      that is? You'll never guess. 'Tis the great doctor that saved Dick's life
+      in England with cutting of his throat. But, oh, my dear, he is not the man
+      he was. He is afflicted. Out of his mind partly. Well, we must cure him,
+      and square the account for Dick. I'm a proud woman at finding him, and
+      bringing him here to make him all right again, I can tell you. Oh, I am
+      happy, I am happy. Little did I think to be so happy as I am. And, my
+      dear, I have brought you a whole sackful of newspapers, old and new.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a good girl. But tell me a little more about him. What is his
+      name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Christie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt. He wasn't an apothecary, or a chemist, you may be sure, but a
+      high doctor, and the cleverest ever was or ever will be: and isn't it sad,
+      love, to see him brought down so? My heart yearns for the poor man: and
+      then his wife&mdash;the sweetest, loveliest creature you ever&mdash;oh!&rdquo;
+       Phoebe stopped very short, for she remembered something all of a sudden;
+      nor did she ever again give Falcon a chance of knowing that the woman,
+      whose presence had so disturbed him, was this very Dr. Christie's wife.
+      &ldquo;Curious!&rdquo; thought she to herself, &ldquo;the world to be so large, and yet so
+      small:&rdquo; then aloud, &ldquo;They are unpacking the wagon; come, dear. I don't
+      think I have forgotten anything of yours. There's cigars, and tobacco, and
+      powder, and shot, and bullets, and everything to make you comfortable, as
+      my duty 'tis; and&mdash;oh, but I'm a happy woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hottentots, big and little, clustered about the wagon. Treasure after
+      treasure was delivered with cries of delight; the dogs found out it was a
+      joyful time, and barked about the wheeled treasury; and the place did not
+      quiet down till sunset.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A plain but tidy little room was given to Christopher, and he slept there
+      like a top. Next morning his nurse called him up to help her water the
+      grass. She led the way with a tub on her head and two buckets in it. She
+      took him to the dam; when she got there she took out the buckets, left one
+      on the bank, and gave the other to Christie. She then went down the steps
+      till the water was up to her neck, and bade Christie fill the tub. He
+      poured eight bucketsful in. Then she came slowly out, straight as an
+      arrow, balancing this tub full on her head. Then she held out her hands
+      for the two buckets. Christie filled them, wondering, and gave them to
+      her. She took them like toy buckets, and glided slowly home with this
+      enormous weight, and never spilled a drop. Indeed, the walk was more
+      smooth and noble than ever, if possible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she reached the house, she hailed a Hottentot, and it cost the man
+      and Christopher a great effort of strength to lower her tub between them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a vertebral column you must have!&rdquo; said Christopher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must not speak bad words, my child,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;Now, you water the
+      grass and the flowers.&rdquo; She gave him a watering-pot, and watched him
+      maternally; but did not put a hand to it. She evidently considered this
+      part of the business as child's play, and not a fit exercise of her
+      powers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was only by drowning that little oasis twice a day that the grass was
+      kept green and the flowers alive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She found him other jobs in course of the day, and indeed he was always
+      helping somebody or other, and became quite ruddy, bronzed, and plump of
+      cheek, and wore a strange look of happiness, except at times when he got
+      apart, and tried to recall the distant past. Then he would knit his brow,
+      and looked perplexed and sad.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were getting quite used to him, and he to them, when one day he did
+      not come in to dinner. Phoebe sent out for him; but they could not find
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sun set. Phoebe became greatly alarmed, and even Dick was anxious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They all turned out, with guns and dogs, and hunted for him beneath the
+      stars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just before daybreak Dick Dale saw a fire sparkle by the side of a distant
+      thicket. He went to it, and there was Ucatella seated, calm and grand as
+      antique statue, and Christopher lying by her side, with a shawl thrown
+      over him. As Dale came hurriedly up, she put her finger to her lips, and
+      said, &ldquo;My child sleeps. Do not wake him. When he sleeps, he hunts the
+      past, as Collie hunts the springbok.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here's a go,&rdquo; said Dick. Then, hearing a chuckle, he looked up, and was
+      aware of a comical appendage to the scene. There hung, head downwards,
+      from a branch, a Kafir boy, who was, in fact, the brother of the stately
+      Ucatella, only went further into antiquity for his models of deportment;
+      for, as she imitated the antique marbles, he reproduced the habits of that
+      epoch when man roosted, and was arboreal. Wheel somersaults, and, above
+      all, swinging head downwards from a branch, were the sweeteners of his
+      existence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! YOU are there, are you?&rdquo; said Dick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Iss,&rdquo; said Ucatella. &ldquo;Tim good boy. Tim found my child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Dick, &ldquo;he has chosen a nice place. This is the clump the last
+      lion came out of, at least they say so. For my part, I never saw an
+      African lion; Falcon says they've all took ship, and gone to England.
+      However, I shall stay here with my rifle till daybreak. 'Tis tempting
+      Providence to lie down on the skirt of a wood for Lord knows what to jump
+      out on ye unawares.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Tim was sent home for Hottentots, and Christopher was carried home, still
+      sleeping, and laid on his own bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He slept twenty-four hours more, and, when he was fairly awake, a sort of
+      mist seemed to clear away in places, and he remembered things at random.
+      He remembered being at sea on the raft with the dead body; that picture
+      was quite vivid to him. He remembered, too, being in the hospital, and
+      meeting Phoebe, and every succeeding incident; but as respected the more
+      distant past, he could not recall it by any effort of his will. His mind
+      could only go into that remoter past by material stepping-stones; and what
+      stepping-stones he had about him here led him back to general knowledge,
+      but not to his private history.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this condition he puzzled them all strangely at the farm; his mind was
+      alternately so clear and so obscure. He would chat with Phoebe, and
+      sometimes give her a good practical hint; but the next moment, helpless
+      for want of memory, that great faculty without which judgment cannot act,
+      having no material.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After some days of this, he had another great sleep. It brought him back
+      the distant past in chapters. His wedding-day. His wife's face and dress
+      upon that day. His parting with her: his whole voyage out: but, strange to
+      say, it swept away one-half of that which he had recovered at his last
+      sleep, and he no longer remembered clearly how he came to be at Dale's
+      Kloof.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus his mind might be compared to one climbing a slippery place, who
+      gains a foot or two, then slips back; but on the whole gains more than he
+      loses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He took a great liking to Falcon. That gentleman had the art of pleasing,
+      and the tact never to offend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon affected to treat the poor soul's want of memory as a common
+      infirmity; pretended he was himself very often troubled in the same way,
+      and advised him to read the newspapers. &ldquo;My good wife,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;has
+      brought me a whole file of the Cape Gazette. I'd read them if I was you.
+      The deuce is in it, if you don't rake up something or other.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher thanked him warmly for this: he got the papers to his own
+      little room, and had always one or two in his pocket for reading. At first
+      he found a good many hard words that puzzled him; and he borrowed a pencil
+      of Phoebe, and noted them down. Strange to say, the words that puzzled him
+      were always common words, that his unaccountable memory had forgotten: a
+      hard word, he was sure to remember that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day he had to ask Falcon the meaning of &ldquo;spendthrift.&rdquo; Falcon told him
+      briefly. He could have illustrated the word by a striking example; but he
+      did not. He added, in his polite way, &ldquo;No fellow can understand all the
+      words in a newspaper. Now, here's a word in mine&mdash;'Anemometer;' who
+      the deuce can understand such a word?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, THAT is a common word enough,&rdquo; said poor Christopher. &ldquo;It means a
+      machine for measuring the force of the wind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, indeed,&rdquo; said Falcon; but did not believe a word of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One sultry day Christopher had a violent headache, and complained to
+      Ucatella. She told Phoebe, and they bound his brows with a wet
+      handkerchief, and advised him to keep in-doors. He sat down in the coolest
+      part of the house, and held his head with his hands, for it seemed as if
+      it would explode into two great fragments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All in a moment the sky was overcast with angry clouds, whirling this way
+      and that. Huge drops of hail pattered down, and the next minute came a
+      tremendous flash of lightning, accompanied, rather than followed, by a
+      crash of thunder close over their heads.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was the opening. Down came a deluge out of clouds that looked
+      mountains of pitch, and made the day night but for the fast and furious
+      strokes of lightning that fired the air. The scream of wind and awful
+      peals of thunder completed the horrors of the scene.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the midst of this, by what agency I know no more than science or a
+      sheep does, something went off inside Christopher's head, like a
+      pistol-shot. He gave a sort of scream, and dashed out into the weather.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe heard his scream and his flying footstep, and uttered an
+      ejaculation of fear. The whole household was alarmed, and, under other
+      circumstances, would have followed him; but you could not see ten yards.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A chill sense of impending misfortune settled on the house. Phoebe threw
+      her apron over her head, and rocked in her chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dick himself looked very grave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ucatella would have tried to follow him; but Dick forbade her. &ldquo;'Tis no
+      use,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;When it clears, we that be men will go for him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray Heaven you may find him alive!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think but what we shall. There's nowhere he can fall down to hurt
+      himself, nor yet drown himself, but our dam; and he has not gone that way.
+      But&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If we do find him, we must take him back to Cape Town, before he does
+      himself, or some one, a mischief. Why, Phoebe, don't you see the man has
+      gone raving mad?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIX.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The electrified man rushed out into the storm, but he scarcely felt it in
+      his body; the effect on his mind overpowered hail-stones. The lightning
+      seemed to light up the past; the mighty explosions of thunder seemed
+      cannon strokes knocking down a wall, and letting in his whole life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Six hours the storm raged, and, before it ended, he had recovered nearly
+      his whole past, except his voyage with Captain Dodd&mdash;that, indeed, he
+      never recovered&mdash;and the things that happened to him in the hospital
+      before he met Phoebe Falcon and her brother: and as soon as he had
+      recovered his lost memory, his body began to shiver at the hail and rain.
+      He tried to find his way home, but missed it; not so much, however, but
+      that he recovered it as soon as it began to clear, and just as they were
+      coming out to look for him, he appeared before them, dripping, shivering,
+      very pale and worn, with the handkerchief still about his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At sight of him, Dick slipped back to his sister, and said, rather
+      roughly, &ldquo;There now, you may leave off crying: he is come home; and
+      to-morrow I take him to Cape Town.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher crept in, a dismal, sinister figure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, sir,&rdquo; said Phoebe, &ldquo;was this a day for a Christian to be out in? How
+      could you go and frighten us so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive me, madam,&rdquo; said Christopher humbly; &ldquo;I was not myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The best thing you can do now is to go to bed, and let us send you up
+      something warm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very good,&rdquo; said Christopher, and retired with the air of one too
+      full of great amazing thoughts to gossip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He slept thirty hours at a stretch, and then, awaking in the dead of
+      night, he saw the past even more clear and vivid; he lighted his candle
+      and began to grope in the Cape Gazette. As to dates, he now remembered
+      when he had sailed from England, and also from Madeira. Following up this
+      clew, he found in the Gazette a notice that H. M. ship Amphitrite had been
+      spoken off the Cape, and had reported the melancholy loss of a promising
+      physician and man of science, Dr. Staines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The account said every exertion had been made to save him, but in vain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines ground his teeth with rage at this. &ldquo;Every exertion! the
+      false-hearted curs. They left me to drown, without one manly effort to
+      save me. Curse them, and curse all the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Pursuing his researches rapidly, he found a much longer account of a raft
+      picked up by Captain Dodd, with a white man on it and a dead body, the
+      white man having on him a considerable sum in money and jewels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then a new anxiety chilled him. There was not a word to identify him with
+      Dr. Staines. The idea had never occurred to the editor of the Cape
+      Gazette. Still less would it occur to any one in England. At this moment
+      his wife must be mourning for him. &ldquo;Poor&mdash;poor Rosa!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But perhaps the fatal news might not have reached her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That hope was dashed away as soon as found. Why, these were all OLD
+      NEWSPAPERS. That gentlemanly man who had lent them to him had said so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Old! yet they completed the year 1867.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He now tore through them for the dates alone, and soon found they went to
+      1868. Yet they were old papers. He had sailed in May, 1867.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My God!&rdquo; he cried, in agony, &ldquo;I HAVE LOST A YEAR.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This thought crushed him. By and by he began to carry this awful idea into
+      details. &ldquo;My Rosa has worn mourning for me, and put it off again. I am
+      dead to her, and to all the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He wept long and bitterly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Those tears cleared his brain still more. For all that, he was not yet
+      himself; at least, I doubt it; his insanity, driven from the intellect,
+      fastened one lingering claw into his moral nature, and hung on by it. His
+      soul filled with bitterness and a desire to be revenged on mankind for
+      their injustice, and this thought possessed him more than reason.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He joined the family at breakfast; and never a word all the time. But when
+      he got up to go, he said, in a strange, dogged way, as if it went against
+      the grain, &ldquo;God bless the house that succors the afflicted.&rdquo; Then he went
+      out to brood alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dick,&rdquo; said Phoebe, &ldquo;there's a change. I'll never part with him: and
+      look, there's Collie following him, that never could abide him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Part with him?&rdquo; said Reginald. &ldquo;Of course not. He is a gentleman, and
+      they are not so common in Africa.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dick, who hated Falcon, ignored this speech entirely, and said, &ldquo;Well,
+      Pheeb, you and Collie are wiser than I am. Take your own way, and don't
+      blame me if anything happens.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon Christopher paid the penalty of returning reason. He suffered all the
+      poignant agony a great heart can endure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So this was his reward for his great act of self-denial in leaving his
+      beloved wife. He had lost his patient; he had lost the income from that
+      patient; his wife was worse off than before, and had doubtless suffered
+      the anguish of a loving heart bereaved. His mind, which now seemed more
+      vigorous than ever, after its long rest, placed her before his very eyes,
+      pale, and worn with grief, in her widow's cap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the picture, he cried like the rain. He could give her joy, by writing;
+      but he could not prevent her from suffering a whole year of misery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Turning this over in connection with their poverty, his evil genius
+      whispered, &ldquo;By this time she has received the six thousand pounds for your
+      death. SHE would never think of that; but her father has: and there is her
+      comfort assured, in spite of the caitiffs who left her husband to drown
+      like a dog.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know my Rosa,&rdquo; he thought. &ldquo;She has swooned&mdash;ah, my poor darling&mdash;she
+      has raved&mdash;she has wept,&rdquo; he wept himself at the thought&mdash;&ldquo;she
+      has mourned every indiscreet act, as if it was a crime. But she HAS done
+      all this. Her good and loving but shallow nature is now at rest from the
+      agonies of bereavement, and nought remains but sad and tender regrets. She
+      can better endure that than poverty: cursed poverty, which has brought her
+      and me to this, and is the only real evil in the world, but bodily pain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then came a struggle, that lasted a whole week, and knitted his brows, and
+      took the color from his cheek; but it ended in the triumph of love and
+      hate, over conscience and common sense. His Rosa should not be poor; and
+      he would cheat some of those contemptible creatures called men, who had
+      done him nothing but injustice, and at last had sacrificed his life like a
+      rat's.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the struggle was over, and the fatal resolution taken, then he became
+      calmer, less solitary, and more sociable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe, who was secretly watching him with a woman's eye, observed this
+      change in him, and, with benevolent intentions, invited him one day to
+      ride round the farm with her. He consented readily. She showed him the
+      fields devoted to maize and wheat, and then the sheepfolds. Tim's sheep
+      were apparently deserted; but he was discovered swinging head downwards
+      from the branch of a camel-thorn, and seeing him, it did strike one that
+      if he had had a tail he would have been swinging by that. Phoebe called to
+      him: he never answered, but set off running to her, and landed himself
+      under her nose in a wheel somersault.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you are watching them, Tim,&rdquo; said his mistress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Iss, missy, always washing 'em.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, there's one straying towards the wood now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He not go far,&rdquo; said Tim coolly. The young monkey stole off a little way,
+      then fell flat, and uttered the cry of a jackal, with startling precision.
+      Back went the sheep to his comrades post haste, and Tim effected a
+      somersault and a chuckle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a clever boy,&rdquo; said Phoebe. &ldquo;So that is how you manage them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dat one way, missy,&rdquo; said Tim, not caring to reveal all his resources at
+      once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Phoebe rode on, and showed Christopher the ostrich pan. It was a
+      large basin, a form the soil often takes in these parts; and in it
+      strutted several full-grown ostriches and their young, bred on the
+      premises. There was a little dam of water, and plenty of food about. They
+      were herded by a Kafir infant of about six, black, glossy, fat, and clean,
+      being in the water six times a day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sometimes one of the older birds would show an inclination to stray out of
+      the pan. Then the infant rolled after her, and tapped her ankles with a
+      wand. She instantly came back, but without any loss of dignity, for she
+      strutted with her nose in the air, affecting completely to ignore the
+      inferior little animal, that was nevertheless controlling her movements.
+      &ldquo;There's a farce,&rdquo; said Phoebe. &ldquo;But you would not believe the money they
+      cost me, nor the money they bring me in. Grain will not sell here for a
+      quarter its value: and we can't afford to send it to Cape Town, twenty
+      days and back; but finery, that sells everywhere. I gather sixty pounds
+      the year off those poor fowls' backs&mdash;clear profit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She showed him the granary, and told him there wasn't such another in
+      Africa. This farm had belonged to one of the old Dutch settlers, and that
+      breed had been going down this many a year. &ldquo;You see, sir, Dick and I
+      being English, and not downright in want of money, we can't bring
+      ourselves to sell grain to the middlemen for nothing, so we store it,
+      hoping for better times, that maybe will never come. Now I'll show you how
+      the dam is made.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They inspected the dam all round. &ldquo;This is our best friend of all,&rdquo; said
+      she. &ldquo;Without this the sun would turn us all to tinder,&mdash;crops,
+      flowers, beasts, and folk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, indeed,&rdquo; said Staines. &ldquo;Then it is a pity you have not built it more
+      scientifically. I must have a look at this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay do, sir, and advise us if you see anything wrong. But hark! it is
+      milking time. Come and see that.&rdquo; So she led the way to some sheds, and
+      there they found several cows being milked, each by a little calf and a
+      little Hottentot at the same time, and both fighting and jostling each
+      other for the udder. Now and then a young cow, unused to incongruous
+      twins, would kick impatiently at both animals and scatter them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is their way,&rdquo; said Phoebe: &ldquo;they have got it into their silly
+      Hottentot heads as kye won't yield their milk if the calf is taken away;
+      and it is no use arguing with 'em; they will have their own way; but they
+      are very trusty and honest, poor things. We soon found that out. When we
+      came here first it was in a hired wagon, and Hottentot drivers: so when we
+      came to settle I made ready for a bit of a wrangle. But my maid Sophy,
+      that is nurse now, and a great despiser of heathens, she says, 'Don't you
+      trouble; them nasty ignorant blacks never charges more than their due.' 'I
+      forgive 'em,' says I; 'I wish all white folk was as nice.' However, I did
+      give them a trifle over, for luck: and then they got together and
+      chattered something near the door, hand in hand. 'La, Sophy,' says I,
+      'what is up now?' Says she, 'They are blessing of us. Things is come to a
+      pretty pass, for ignorant Muslinmen heathen to be blessing Christian
+      folk.' 'Well,' says I, 'it won't hurt us any.' 'I don't know,' says she.
+      'I don't want the devil prayed over me.' So she cocked that long nose of
+      hers and followed it in a doors.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      By this time they were near the house, and Phoebe was obliged to come to
+      her postscript, for the sake of which, believe me, she had uttered every
+      syllable of this varied chat. &ldquo;Well, sir,&rdquo; said she, affecting to proceed
+      without any considerable change of topic, &ldquo;and how do you find yourself?
+      Have you discovered the past?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have, madam. I remember every leading incident of my life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And has it made you happier?&rdquo; said Phoebe softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Christopher gravely. &ldquo;Memory has brought me misery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I feared as much; for you have lost your fine color, and your eyes are
+      hollow, and lines on your poor brow that were not there before. Are you
+      not sorry you have discovered the past?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Mrs. Falcon. Give me the sovereign gift of reason, with all the
+      torture it can inflict. I thank God for returning memory, even with the
+      misery it brings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe was silent a long time: then she said in a low, gentle voice, and
+      with the indirectness of a truly feminine nature, &ldquo;I have plenty of
+      writing-paper in the house; and the post goes south to-morrow, such as
+      'tis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher struggled with his misery, and trembled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was silent a long time. Then he said, &ldquo;No. It is her interest that I
+      should be dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but, sir&mdash;take a thought.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a word more, I implore you. I am the most miserable man that ever
+      breathed.&rdquo; As he spoke, two bitter tears forced their way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe cast a look of pity on him, and said no more; but she shook her
+      head. Her plain common sense revolted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, it did not follow he would be in the same mind next week: so she
+      was in excellent spirits at her protege's recovery, and very proud of her
+      cure, and celebrated the event with a roaring supper, including an English
+      ham, and a bottle of port wine; and, ten to one, that was English too.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dick Dale looked a little incredulous, but he did not spare the ham any
+      the more for that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After supper, in a pause of conversation, Staines turned to Dick, and
+      said, rather abruptly, &ldquo;Suppose that dam of yours were to burst and empty
+      its contents, would it not be a great misfortune to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Misfortune, sir! Don't talk of it. Why, it would ruin us, beast and
+      body.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it will burst, if it is not looked to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dale's Kloof dam burst! the biggest and strongest for a hundred miles
+      round.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You deceive yourself. It is not scientifically built, to begin, and there
+      is a cause at work that will infallibly burst it, if not looked to in
+      time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what is that, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The dam is full of crabs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So 'tis; but what of them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I detected two of them that had perforated the dyke from the wet side to
+      the dry, and water was trickling through the channel they had made. Now,
+      for me to catch two that had come right through, there must be a great
+      many at work honeycombing your dyke; those channels, once made, will be
+      enlarged by the permeating water, and a mere cupful of water forced into a
+      dyke by the great pressure of a heavy column has an expansive power quite
+      out of proportion to the quantity forced in. Colossal dykes have been
+      burst in this way with disastrous effects. Indeed, it is only a question
+      of time, and I would not guarantee your dyke twelve hours. It is full,
+      too, with the heavy rains.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here's a go!&rdquo; said Dick, turning pale. &ldquo;Well, if it is to burst, it
+      must.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why so? You can make it safe in a few hours. You have got a clumsy
+      contrivance for letting off the excess of water: let us go and relieve the
+      dam at once of two feet of water. That will make it safe for a day or two,
+      and to-morrow we will puddle it afresh, and demolish those busy
+      excavators.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He spoke with such authority and earnestness, that they all got up from
+      table; a horn was blown that soon brought the Hottentots, and they all
+      proceeded to the dam. With infinite difficulty they opened the waste
+      sluice, lowered the water two feet, and so drenched the arid soil that in
+      forty-eight hours flowers unknown sprang up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next morning, under the doctor's orders, all the black men and boys were
+      diving with lumps of stiff clay and puddling the endangered wall with a
+      thick wall of it. This took all the people the whole day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day the clay wall was carried two feet higher, and then the doctor
+      made them work on the other side and buttress the dyke with supports so
+      enormous as seemed extravagant to Dick and Phoebe; but, after all, it was
+      as well to be on the safe side, they thought: and soon they were sure of
+      it, for the whole work was hardly finished when the news came in that the
+      dyke of a neighboring Boer, ten miles off, had exploded like a cannon, and
+      emptied itself in five minutes, drowning the farm-yard and floating the
+      furniture, but leaving them all to perish of drought; and indeed the
+      Boer's cart came every day, with empty barrels, for some time, to beg
+      water of the Dales. Ucatella pondered all this, and said her doctor child
+      was wise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This brief excitement over, Staines went back to his own gloomy thoughts,
+      and they scarcely saw him, except at supper-time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One evening he surprised them all by asking if they would add to all their
+      kindness by lending him a horse, and a spade, and a few pounds to go to
+      the diamond fields.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dick Dale looked at his sister. She said, &ldquo;We had rather lend them you to
+      go home with, sir, if you must leave us; but, dear heart, I was half in
+      hopes&mdash;Dick and I were talking it over only yesterday&mdash;that you
+      would go partners like with us; ever since you saved the dam.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have too little to offer for that, Mrs. Falcon; and, besides, I am
+      driven into a corner. I must make money quickly, or not at all: the
+      diamonds are only three hundred miles off: for heaven's sake, let me try
+      my luck.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They tried to dissuade him, and told him not one in fifty did any good at
+      it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, but I shall,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Great bad luck is followed by great good
+      luck, and I feel my turn is come. Not that I rely on luck. An accident
+      directed my attention to the diamond a few years ago, and I read a number
+      of prime works upon the subject that told me of things not known to the
+      miners. It is clear, from the Cape journals, that they are looking for
+      diamonds in the river only. Now, I am sure that is a mistake. Diamonds,
+      like gold, have their matrix, and it is comparatively few gems that get
+      washed into the river. I am confident that I shall find the volcanic
+      matrix, and perhaps make my fortune in a week or two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the dialogue took this turn, Reginald Falcon's cheek began to flush,
+      and his eyes to glitter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher continued: &ldquo;You who have befriended me so will not turn back,
+      I am sure, when I have such a chance before me; and as for the small sum
+      of money I shall require, I will repay you some day, even if&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La, sir, don't talk so. If you put it that way, why, the best horse we
+      have, and fifty pounds in good English gold, they are at your service
+      to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And pick and spade to boot,&rdquo; said Dick, &ldquo;and a double rifle, for there
+      are lions, and Lord knows what, between this and the Vaal river.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;God bless you both!&rdquo; said Christopher. &ldquo;I will start to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I'll go with you,&rdquo; said Reginald Falcon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XX.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heaven forbid!&rdquo; said Phoebe. &ldquo;No, my dear, no more diamonds for us. We
+      never had but one, and it brought us trouble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense, Phoebe,&rdquo; replied Falcon; &ldquo;it was not the diamond's fault. You
+      know I have often wanted to go there, but you objected. You said you were
+      afraid some evil would befall me. But now Solomon himself is going to the
+      mines, let us have no more of that nonsense. We will take our rifles and
+      our pistols.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There&mdash;there&mdash;rifles and pistols,&rdquo; cried Phoebe; &ldquo;that shows.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And we will be there in a week; stay a month, and home with our pockets
+      full of diamonds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And find me dead of a broken heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Broken fiddlestick! We have been parted longer than that, and yet here we
+      are all right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, but the pitcher that goes too often to the well gets broke at last.
+      No, Reginald, now I have tasted three years' happiness and peace of mind,
+      I cannot go through what I used in England. Oh, doctor! have you the heart
+      to part man and wife, that have never been a day from each other all these
+      years?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Falcon, I would not do it for all the diamonds in Brazil. No, Mr.
+      Falcon, I need hardly say how charmed I should be to have your company:
+      but that is a pleasure I shall certainly deny myself, after what your good
+      wife has said. I owe her too much to cause her a single pang.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Doctor,&rdquo; said the charming Reginald, &ldquo;you are a gentleman and side with
+      the lady. Quite right. It adds to my esteem, if possible. Make your mind
+      easy; I will go alone. I am not a farmer. I am dead sick of this
+      monotonous life; and, since I am compelled to speak my mind, a little
+      ashamed, as a gentleman, of living on my wife and her brother, and doing
+      nothing for myself. So I shall go to the Vaal river, and see a little
+      life; here there's nothing but vegetation&mdash;and not much of that. Not
+      a word more, Phoebe, if you please. I am a good, easy, affectionate
+      husband, but I am a man, and not a child to be tied to a woman's
+      apron-strings, however much I may love and respect her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dick put in his word: &ldquo;Since you are so independent, you can WALK to the
+      Vaal river. I can't spare a couple of horses.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This hit the sybarite hard, and he cast a bitter glance of hatred at his
+      brother-in-law, and fell into a moody silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But when he got Phoebe to himself, he descanted on her selfishness, Dick's
+      rudeness, and his own wounded dignity, till he made her quite anxious he
+      should have his own way. She came to Staines, with red eyes, and said,
+      &ldquo;Tell me, doctor, will there be any women up there&mdash;to take care of
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a petticoat in the place, I believe. It is a very rough life; and how
+      Falcon could think of leaving you and sweet little Tommy, and this life of
+      health, and peace, and comfort&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet YOU do leave us, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am the most unfortunate man upon the earth; Falcon is one of the
+      happiest. Would I leave wife and child to go there? Ah me! I am dead to
+      those I love. This is my one chance of seeing my darling again for many a
+      long year perhaps. Oh, I must not speak of HER&mdash;it unmans me. My
+      good, kind friend, I'll tell you what to do. When we are all at supper,
+      let a horse be saddled and left in the yard for me. I'll bid you all
+      good-night, and I'll put fifty miles between us before morning. Even then
+      HE need not be told I am gone; he will not follow me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very good, sir,&rdquo; said Phoebe; &ldquo;but no. Too much has been said. I
+      can't have him humbled by my brother, nor any one. He says I am selfish.
+      Perhaps I am; though I never was called so. I can't bear he should think
+      me selfish. He WILL go, and so let us have no ill blood about it. Since he
+      is to go, of course I'd much liever he should go with you than by himself.
+      You are sure there are no women up there&mdash;to take care of&mdash;you&mdash;both?
+      You must be purse-bearer, sir, and look to every penny. He is too generous
+      when he has got money to spend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In short, Reginald had played so upon her heart, that she now urged the
+      joint expedition, only she asked a delay of a day or two to equip them,
+      and steel herself to the separation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines did not share those vague fears that overpowered the wife, whose
+      bitter experiences were unknown to him; but he felt uncomfortable at her
+      condition&mdash;for now she was often in tears&mdash;and he said all he
+      could to comfort her; and he also advised her how to profit by these
+      terrible diamonds, in her way. He pointed out to her that her farm lay
+      right in the road to the diamonds, yet the traffic all shunned her,
+      passing twenty miles to the westward. Said he, &ldquo;You should profit by all
+      your resources. You have wood, a great rarity in Africa; order a portable
+      forge; run up a building where miners can sleep, another where they can
+      feed; the grain you have so wisely refused to sell, grind it into flour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear heart! why, there's neither wind nor water to turn a mill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But there are oxen. I'll show you how to make an ox-mill. Send your Cape
+      cart into Cape Town for iron lathes, for coffee and tea, and groceries by
+      the hundredweight. The moment you are ready&mdash;for success depends on
+      the order in which we act&mdash;then prepare great boards, and plant them
+      twenty miles south. Write or paint on them, very large, 'The nearest way
+      to the Diamond Mines, through Dale's Kloof, where is excellent
+      accommodation for man and beast. Tea, coffee, home-made bread, fresh
+      butter, etc., etc.' Do this, and you will soon leave off decrying
+      diamonds. This is the sure way to coin them. I myself take the doubtful
+      way; but I can't help it. I am a dead man, and swift good fortune will
+      give me life. You can afford to go the slower road and the surer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he drew her a model of an ox-mill, and of a miner's dormitory, the
+      partitions six feet six apart, so that these very partitions formed the
+      bedstead, the bed-sacking being hooked to the uprights. He drew his model
+      for twenty bedrooms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The portable forge and the ox-mill pleased Dick Dale most, but the
+      partitioned bedsteads charmed Phoebe. She said, &ldquo;Oh, doctor, how can one
+      man's head hold so many things? If there's a man on earth I can trust my
+      husband with, 'tis you. But if things go cross up there, promise me you
+      will come back at once and cast in your lot with us. We have got money and
+      stock, and you have got headpiece; we might do very well together. Indeed,
+      indeed we might. Promise me. Oh, do, please, promise me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I promise you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And on this understanding, Staines and Falcon were equipped with rifles,
+      pickaxe, shovels, waterproofs, and full saddle-bags, and started, with
+      many shakings of the hand, and many tears from Phoebe, for the diamond
+      washings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXI.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe's tears at parting made Staines feel uncomfortable, and he said so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pooh, pooh!&rdquo; said Falcon, &ldquo;crying for nothing does a woman good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher stared at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon's spirits rose as they proceeded. He was like a boy let loose from
+      school. His fluency and charm of manner served, however, to cheer a
+      singularly dreary journey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The travellers soon entered on a vast and forbidding region, that wearied
+      the eye; at their feet a dull, rusty carpet of dried grass and wild
+      camomile, with pale-red sand peeping through the burnt and scanty herbage.
+      On the low mounds, that looked like heaps of sifted ashes, struggled now
+      and then into sickliness a ragged, twisted shrub. There were flowers too,
+      but so sparse, that they sparkled vainly in the colorless waste, which
+      stretched to the horizon. The farmhouses were twenty miles apart, and nine
+      out of ten of them were new ones built by the Boers since they degenerated
+      into white savages: mere huts, with domed kitchens behind them. In the
+      dwelling-house the whole family pigged together, with raw flesh drying on
+      the rafters, stinking skins in a corner, parasitical vermin of all sorts
+      blackening the floor, and particularly a small, biting, and odoriferous
+      tortoise, compared with which the insect a London washerwoman brings into
+      your house in her basket, is a stroke with a feather&mdash;and all this
+      without the excuse of penury; for many of these were shepherd kings,
+      sheared four thousand fleeces a year, and owned a hundred horses and
+      horned cattle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These Boers are compelled, by unwritten law, to receive travellers and
+      water their cattle; but our travellers, after one or two experiences,
+      ceased to trouble them; for, added to the dirt, the men were sullen, the
+      women moody, silent, brainless; the whole reception churlish. Staines
+      detected in them an uneasy consciousness that they had descended, in more
+      ways than one, from a civilized race; and the superior bearing of a
+      European seemed to remind them what they had been, and might have been,
+      and were not; so, after an attempt or two, our adventurers avoided the
+      Boers, and tried the Kafirs. They found the savages socially superior,
+      though their moral character does not rank high.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Kafir cabins they entered were caves, lighted only by the door, but
+      deliciously cool, and quite clean; the floors of puddled clay or ants'
+      nests, and very clean. On entering these cool retreats, the flies that had
+      tormented them shirked the cool grot, and buzzed off to the nearest farm
+      to batten on congenial foulness. On the fat, round, glossy babies, not a
+      speck of dirt, whereas the little Boers were cakes thereof. The Kafir
+      would meet them at the door, his clean black face all smiles and welcome.
+      The women and grown girls would fling a spotless handkerchief over their
+      shoulders in a moment, and display their snowy teeth, in unaffected joy at
+      sight of an Englishman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At one of these huts, one evening, they met with something St. Paul ranks
+      above cleanliness even, viz., Christianity. A neighboring lion had just
+      eaten a Hottentot faute de mieux; and these good Kafirs wanted the
+      Europeans not to go on at night and be eaten for dessert. But they could
+      not speak a word of English, and pantomimic expression exists in theory
+      alone. In vain the women held our travellers by the coat-tails, and
+      pointed to a distant wood. In vain Kafir pere went on all-fours and
+      growled sore. But at last a savage youth ran to the kitchen&mdash;for they
+      never cook in the house&mdash;and came back with a brand, and sketched, on
+      the wall of the hut, a lion with a mane down to the ground, and a saucer
+      eye, not loving. The creature's paw rested on a hat and coat and another
+      fragment or two of a European. The rest was fore-shortened, or else eaten.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The picture completed, the females looked, approved, and raised a dismal
+      howl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A lion on the road,&rdquo; said Christopher gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the undaunted Falcon seized the charcoal, and drew an Englishman in a
+      theatrical attitude, left foot well forward, firing a gun, and a lion
+      rolling head over heels like a buck rabbit, and blood squirting out of a
+      hole in his perforated carcass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The savages saw, and exulted. They were so off their guard as to confound
+      representation with fact; they danced round the white warrior, and
+      launched him to victory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aha!&rdquo; said Falcon, &ldquo;I took the shine out of their lion, didn't I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You did: and once there was a sculptor who showed a lion his marble
+      group, a man trampling a lion, extracting his tongue, and so on; but
+      report says it DID NOT CONVINCE THE LION.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, no; a lion is not an ass. But, for your comfort, there ARE no lions
+      in this part of the world. They are myths. There were lions in Africa. But
+      now they are all at the Zoo. And I wish I was there too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In what character&mdash;of a discontented animal&mdash;with every
+      blessing? They would not take you in; too common in England. Hallo! this
+      is something new. What lots of bushes! We should not have much chance with
+      a lion here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There ARE no lions: it is not the Zoo,&rdquo; said Falcon; but he spurred on
+      faster.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The country, however, did not change its feature; bushes and little
+      acacias prevailed, and presently dark forms began to glide across at
+      intervals.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The travellers held their breath, and pushed on; but at last their horses
+      flagged; so they thought it best to stop and light a fire and stand upon
+      their guard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They did so, and Falcon sat with his rifle cocked, while Staines boiled
+      coffee, and they drank it, and after two hours' halt, pushed on; and at
+      last the bushes got more scattered, and they were on the dreary plain
+      again. Falcon drew the rein, with a sigh of relief, and they walked their
+      horses side by side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, what has become of the lions?&rdquo; said Falcon jauntily. He turned in
+      his saddle, and saw a large animal stealing behind them with its belly to
+      the very earth, and eyes hot coals; he uttered an eldrich screech, fired
+      both barrels, with no more aim than a baby, and spurred away, yelling like
+      a demon. The animal fled another way, in equal trepidation at those
+      tongues of flame and loud reports, and Christopher's horse reared and
+      plunged, and deposited him promptly on the sward; but he held the bridle,
+      mounted again, and rode after his companion. A stern chase is a long
+      chase; and for that or some other reason he could never catch him again
+      till sunrise. Being caught, he ignored the lioness, with cool hauteur: he
+      said he had ridden on to find comfortable quarters: and craved thanks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was literally the only incident worth recording that the companions
+      met with in three hundred miles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the sixth day out, towards afternoon, they found by inquiring they were
+      near the diamond washings, and the short route was pointed out by an
+      exceptionally civil Boer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Christopher's eye had lighted upon a sort of chain of knolls, or
+      little round hills, devoid of vegetation, and he told Falcon he would like
+      to inspect these, before going farther.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said the Boer, &ldquo;they are not on my farm, thank goodness! they are on
+      my cousin Bulteel's;&rdquo; and he pointed to a large white house about four
+      miles distant, and quite off the road. Nevertheless, Staines insisted on
+      going to it. But first they made up to one of these knolls, and examined
+      it; it was about thirty feet high, and not a vestige of herbage on it; the
+      surface was composed of sand and of lumps of gray limestone very hard,
+      diversified with lots of quartz, mica, and other old formations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines got to the top of it with some difficulty, and examined the
+      surface all over. He came down again, and said, &ldquo;All these little hills
+      mark hot volcanic action&mdash;why, they are like boiling earth-bubbles&mdash;which
+      is the very thing, under certain conditions, to turn carbonate of lime
+      into diamonds. Now here is plenty of limestone unnaturally hard; and being
+      in a diamond country, I can fancy no place more likely to be the matrix
+      than these earth-bubbles. Let us tether the horses, and use our shovels.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They did so; and found one or two common crystals, and some jasper, and a
+      piece of chalcedony all in little bubbles, but no diamond. Falcon said it
+      was wasting time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just then the proprietor, a gigantic, pasty colonist, came up, with his
+      pipe, and stood calmly looking on. Staines came down, and made a sort of
+      apology. Bulteel smiled quietly, and asked what harm they could do him,
+      raking that rubbish. &ldquo;Rake it all avay, mine vriends,&rdquo; said he: &ldquo;ve shall
+      thank you moch.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He then invited them languidly to his house. They went with him, and as he
+      volunteered no more remarks, they questioned him, and learned his father
+      had been a Hollander, and so had his vrow's. This accounted for the size
+      and comparative cleanliness of his place. It was stuccoed with the lime of
+      the country outside, and was four times as large as the miserable
+      farmhouses of the degenerate Boers. For all this, the street door opened
+      on the principal room, and that room was kitchen and parlor, only very
+      large and wholesome. &ldquo;But, Lord,&rdquo; as poor dear Pepys used to blurt out&mdash;&ldquo;to
+      see how some folk understand cleanliness!&rdquo; The floor was made of powdered
+      ants' nests, and smeared with fresh cow-dung every day. Yet these people
+      were the cleanest Boers in the colony.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The vrow met them, with a snow-white collar and cuffs of Hamburgh linen,
+      and the brats had pasty faces round as pumpkins, but shone with soap. The
+      vrow was also pasty-faced, but gentle, and welcomed them with a smile,
+      languid, but unequivocal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Hottentots took their horses, as a matter of course. Their guns were
+      put in a corner. A clean cloth was spread, and they saw they were to sup
+      and sleep there, though the words of invitation were never spoken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At supper, sun-dried flesh, cabbage, and a savory dish the travellers
+      returned to with gusto. Staines asked what it was: the vrow told him&mdash;locusts.
+      They had stripped her garden, and filled her very rooms, and fallen in
+      heaps under her walls; so she had pressed them, by the million, into
+      cakes, had salted them lightly, and stored them, and they were excellent,
+      baked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After supper, the accomplished Reginald, observing a wire guitar, tuned it
+      with some difficulty, and so twanged it, and sang ditties to it, that the
+      flabby giant's pasty face wore a look of dreamy content over his
+      everlasting pipe; and in the morning, after a silent breakfast, he said,
+      &ldquo;Mine vriends, stay here a year or two, and rake in mine rubbish. Ven you
+      are tired, here are springbok and antelopes, and you can shoot mit your
+      rifles, and ve vil cook them, and you shall zing us zongs of Vaderland.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They thanked him heartily, and said they would stay a few days, at all
+      events.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The placid Boer went a-farming; and the pair shouldered their pick and
+      shovel, and worked on their heap all day, and found a number of pretty
+      stones, but no diamond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said Falcon, &ldquo;we must go to the river;&rdquo; and Staines acquiesced. &ldquo;I
+      bow to experience,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the threshold they found two of the little Bulteels, playing with
+      pieces of quartz, crystal, etc., on the door-stone. One of these stones
+      caught Staines's eye directly. It sparkled in a different way from the
+      others: he examined it: it was the size of a white haricot bean, and one
+      side of it polished by friction. He looked at it, and looked, and saw that
+      it refracted the light. He felt convinced it was a diamond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give the boy a penny for it,&rdquo; said the ingenious Falcon, on receiving the
+      information.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Staines. &ldquo;Take advantage of a child?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He borrowed it of the boy, and laid it on the table, after supper. &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo;
+       said he, &ldquo;this is what we were raking in your kopjes for, and could not
+      find it. It belongs to little Hans. Will you sell it us? We are not
+      experts, but we think it may be a diamond. We will risk ten pounds on it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ten pounds!&rdquo; said the farmer. &ldquo;Nay, we rob not travellers, mine vriend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But if it is a diamond, it is worth a hundred. See how it gains fire in
+      the dusk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In short, they forced the ten pounds on him, and next day went to work on
+      another kopje.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the simple farmer's conscience smote him. It was a slack time; so he
+      sent four Hotteatots, with shovels, to help these friendly maniacs. These
+      worked away gayly, and the white men set up a sorting table, and sorted
+      the stuff, and hammered the nodules, and at last found a little stone as
+      big as a pea that refracted the light. Staines showed this to the
+      Hottentots, and their quick eyes discovered two more that day, only
+      smaller.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day, nothing but a splinter or two.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Staines determined to dig deeper, contrary to the general impression.
+      He gave his reason: &ldquo;Diamonds don't fall from the sky. They work up from
+      the ground; and clearly the heat must be greater farther down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Acting on this, they tried the next strata, but found it entirely barren.
+      After that, however, they came to a fresh layer of carbonate, and here,
+      Falcon hammering a large lump of conglomerate, out leaped, all of a
+      sudden, a diamond big as a nut, that ran along the earth, gleaming like a
+      star. It had polished angles and natural facets, and even a novice, with
+      an eye in his head, could see it was a diamond of the purest water.
+      Staines and Falcon shouted with delight, and made the blacks a present on
+      the spot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They showed the prize, at night, and begged the farmer to take to digging.
+      There was ten times more money beneath his soil than on it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not he. He was a farmer: did not believe in diamonds. Two days afterwards,
+      another great find. Seven small diamonds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day, a stone as large as a cob-nut, and with strange and beautiful
+      streaks. They carried it home to dinner, and set it on the table, and told
+      the family it was worth a thousand pounds. Bulteel scarcely looked at it;
+      but the vrow trembled and all the young folk glowered at it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the middle of dinner, it exploded like a cracker, and went literally
+      into diamond-dust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dere goes von tousand pounds,&rdquo; said Bulteel, without moving a muscle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon swore. But Staines showed fortitude. &ldquo;It was laminated,&rdquo; said he,
+      &ldquo;and exposure to the air was fatal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Owing to the invaluable assistance of the Hottentots, they had in less
+      than a month collected four large stones of pure water, and a wineglassful
+      of small stones, when, one fine day, going to work calmly after breakfast,
+      they found some tents pitched, and at least a score of dirty diggers,
+      bearded like the pard, at work on the ground. Staines sent Falcon back to
+      tell Bulteel, and suggest that he should at once order them off, or,
+      better still, make terms with them. The phlegmatic Boer did neither.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In twenty-four hours it was too late. The place was rushed. In other
+      words, diggers swarmed to the spot, with no idea of law but digger's law.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A thousand tents rose like mushrooms; and poor Bulteel stood smoking, and
+      staring amazed, at his own door, and saw a veritable procession of wagons,
+      Cape carts, and powdered travellers file past him to take possession of
+      his hillocks. Him, the proprietor, they simply ignored; they had a
+      committee who were to deal with all obstructions, landlords and tenants
+      included. They themselves measured out Bulteel's farm into thirty-foot
+      claims, and went to work with shovel and pick. They held Staines's claim
+      sacred&mdash;that was diggers' law; but they confined it strictly to
+      thirty feet square.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Had the friends resisted, their brains would have been knocked out.
+      However, they gained this, that dealers poured in, and the market not
+      being yet glutted, the price was good. Staines sold a few of the small
+      stones for two hundred pounds. He showed one of the larger stones. The
+      dealer's eye glittered, but he offered only three hundred pounds, and this
+      was so wide of the ascending scale, on which a stone of that importance is
+      priced, that Staines reserved it for sale at Cape Town.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nevertheless, he afterwards doubted whether he had not better have taken
+      it; for the multitude of diggers turned out such a prodigious number of
+      diamonds at Bulteel's pan, that a sort of panic fell on the market.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These dry diggings were a revelation to the world. Men began to think the
+      diamond perhaps was a commoner stone than any one had dreamed it to be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As to the discovery of stones, Staines and Falcon lost nothing by being
+      confined to a thirty-foot claim. Compelled to dig deeper, they got into a
+      rich strata, where they found garnets by the pint, and some small
+      diamonds, and at last, one lucky day, their largest diamond. It weighed
+      thirty-seven carats, and was a rich yellow. Now, when a diamond is clouded
+      or off color, it is terribly depreciated; but a diamond with a positive
+      color is called a fancy stone, and ranks with the purest stones.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish I had this in Cape Town,&rdquo; said Staines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, I'll take it to Cape Town, if you like,&rdquo; said the changeable Falcon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will?&rdquo; said Christopher, surprised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not? I'm not much of a digger. I can serve our interest better by
+      selling. I could get a thousand pounds for this at Cape Town.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We will talk of that quietly,&rdquo; said Christopher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, the fact is, Falcon, as a digger, was not worth a pin. He could not
+      sort. His eyes would not bear the blinding glare of a tropical sun upon
+      lime and dazzling bits of mica, quartz, crystal, white topaz, etc., in the
+      midst of which the true glint of the royal stone had to be caught in a
+      moment. He could not sort, and he had not the heart to dig. The only way
+      to make him earn his half was to turn him into the travelling and selling
+      partner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher was too generous to tell him this; but he acted on it, and
+      said he thought his was an excellent proposal; indeed, he had better take
+      all the diamonds they had got to Dale's Kloof first, and show them to his
+      wife, for her consolation: &ldquo;And perhaps,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;in a matter of this
+      importance, she will go to Cape Town with you, and try the market there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said Falcon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sat and brooded over the matter a long time, and said, &ldquo;Why make two
+      bites of a cherry? They will only give us half the value at Cape Town; why
+      not go by the steamer to England, before the London market is glutted, and
+      all the world finds out that diamonds are as common as dirt?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go to England! What! without your wife? I'll never be a party to that. Me
+      part man and wife! If you knew my own story&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, who wants you?&rdquo; said Reginald. &ldquo;You don't understand. Phoebe is
+      dying to visit England again; but she has got no excuse. If you like to
+      give her one, she will be much obliged to you, I can tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that is a very different matter. If Mrs. Falcon can leave her farm&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that brute of a brother of hers is a very honest fellow, for that
+      matter. She can trust the farm to him. Besides, it is only a month's
+      voyage by the mail steamer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This suggestion of Falcon's set Christopher's heart bounding, and his eyes
+      glistening. But he restrained himself, and said, &ldquo;This takes me by
+      surprise; let me smoke a pipe over it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He not only did that, but he lay awake all night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The fact is that for some time past, Christopher had felt sharp twinges of
+      conscience, and deep misgivings as to the course he had pursued in leaving
+      his wife a single day in the dark. Complete convalescence had cleared his
+      moral sentiments, and perhaps, after all, the discovery of the diamonds
+      had co-operated; since now the insurance money was no longer necessary to
+      keep his wife from starving.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;faith is a great quality; and how I have lacked it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To do him justice, he knew his wife's excitable nature, and was not
+      without fears of some disaster, should the news be communicated to her
+      unskilfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But this proposal of Falcon's made the way clearer. Mrs. Falcon, though
+      not a lady, had all a lady's delicacy, and all a woman's tact and
+      tenderness. He knew no one in the world more fit to be trusted with the
+      delicate task of breaking to his Rosa that the grave, for once, was
+      baffled, and her husband lived. He now became quite anxious for Falcon's
+      departure, and ardently hoped that worthy had not deceived himself as to
+      Mrs. Falcon's desire to visit England.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In short, it was settled that Falcon should start for Dale's Kloof, taking
+      with him the diamonds, believed to be worth altogether three thousand
+      pounds at Cape Town, and nearly as much again in England, and a long
+      letter to Mrs. Falcon, in which Staines revealed his true story, told her
+      where to find his wife, or hear of her, viz., at Kent Villa, Gravesend,
+      and sketched an outline of instructions as to the way, and cunning
+      degrees, by which the joyful news should be broken to her. With this he
+      sent a long letter to be given to Rosa herself, but not till she should
+      know all: and in this letter he enclosed the ruby ring she had given him.
+      That ring had never left his finger, by sea or land, in sickness or
+      health.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The letter to Rosa was sealed. The two letters made quite a packet; for,
+      in the letter to his beloved Rosa, he told her everything that had
+      befallen him. It was a romance, and a picture of love; a letter to lift a
+      loving woman to heaven, and almost reconcile her to all her bereaved heart
+      had suffered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This letter, written with many tears from the heart that had so suffered,
+      and was now softened by good fortune and bounding with joy, Staines
+      entrusted to Falcon, together with the other diamonds, and with many warm
+      shakings of the hand, started him on his way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But mind, Falcon,&rdquo; said Christopher, &ldquo;I shall expect an answer from Mrs.
+      Falcon in twenty days at farthest. I do not feel so sure as you do that
+      she wants to go to England; and, if not, I must write to Uncle Philip.
+      Give me your solemn promise, old fellow, an answer in twenty days&mdash;if
+      you have to send a Kafir on horseback.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I give you my honor,&rdquo; said Falcon superbly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Send it to me at Bulteel's Farm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right. 'Dr. Christie, Bulteel's Farm.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;no. Why should I conceal my real name any longer from such
+      friends as you and your wife? Christie is short for Christopher&mdash;that
+      IS my Christian name; but my surname is Staines. Write to 'Dr. Staines.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Staines!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Did you ever hear of me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon wore a strange look. &ldquo;I almost think I have. Down at Gravesend, or
+      somewhere.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is curious. Yes, I married my Rosa there; poor thing! God bless her;
+      God comfort her. She thinks me dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice trembled, he grasped Falcon's cold hand till the latter winced
+      again, and so they parted, and Falcon rode off muttering, &ldquo;Dr. Staines! so
+      then YOU are Dr. Staines.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Rosa Staines had youth on her side, and it is an old saying that youth
+      will not be denied. Youth struggled with death for her, and won the
+      battle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But she came out of that terrible fight weak as a child. The sweet pale
+      face, the widow's cap, the suit of deep black&mdash;it was long ere these
+      came down from the sickroom. And when they did, oh, the dead blank! The
+      weary, listless life! The days spent in sighs, and tears, and desolation.
+      Solitude! solitude! Her husband was gone, and a strange woman played the
+      mother to her child before her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Uncle Philip was devotedly kind to her, and so was her father; but they
+      could do nothing for her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Months rolled on, and skinned the wound over. Months could not heal. Her
+      boy became dearer and dearer, and it was from him came the first real
+      drops of comfort, however feeble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She used to read her lost one's diary every day, and worship, in deep
+      sorrow, the mind she had scarcely respected until it was too late. She
+      searched in his diary to find his will, and often she mourned that he had
+      written on it so few things she could obey. Her desire to obey the dead,
+      whom, living, she had often disobeyed, was really simple and touching. She
+      would mourn to her father that there were so few commands to her in his
+      diary. &ldquo;But,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;memory brings me back his will in many things,
+      and to obey is now the only sad comfort I have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was in this spirit she now forced herself to keep accounts. No fear of
+      her wearing stays now; no powder; no trimmings; no waste.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After the usual delay, her father told her she should instruct a solicitor
+      to apply to the insurance company for the six thousand pounds. She refused
+      with a burst of agony. &ldquo;The price of his life,&rdquo; she screamed. &ldquo;Never! I'd
+      live on bread and water sooner than touch that vile money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her father remonstrated gently. But she was immovable. &ldquo;No. It would be
+      like consenting to his death.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Uncle Philip was sent for.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He set her child on her knee; and gave her a pen. &ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said he,
+      sternly, &ldquo;be a woman, and do your duty to little Christie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She kissed the boy, cried, and did her duty meekly. But when the money was
+      brought her, she flew to Uncle Philip, and said, &ldquo;There! there!&rdquo; and threw
+      it all before him, and cried as if her heart would break. He waited
+      patiently, and asked her what he was to do with all that: invest it?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes; for my little Christie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And pay you the interest quarterly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, no. Dribble us out a little as we want it. That is the way to be
+      truly kind to a simpleton. I hate that word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And suppose I run off with it? Such confiding geese as you corrupt a
+      man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall never corrupt you. Crusty people are the soul of honor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Crusty people!&rdquo; cried Philip, affecting amazement. &ldquo;What are they?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She bit her lip and colored a little; but answered adroitly, &ldquo;They are
+      people that pretend not to have good hearts, but have the best in the
+      world; far better ones than your smooth ones: that's crusty people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said Philip; &ldquo;and I'll tell you what simpletons are. They are
+      little transparent-looking creatures that look shallow, but are as deep as
+      Old Nick, and make you love them in spite of your judgment. They are the
+      most artful of their sex; for they always achieve its great object, to be
+      loved&mdash;the very thing that clever women sometimes fail in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, and if we are not to be loved, why live at all&mdash;such useless
+      things as I am?&rdquo; said Rosa simply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So Philip took charge of her money, and agreed to help her save money for
+      her little Christopher. Poverty should never destroy him, as it had his
+      father.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As months rolled on, she crept out into public a little; but always on
+      foot, and a very little way from home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Youth and sober life gradually restored her strength, but not her color,
+      nor her buoyancy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet she was perhaps more beautiful than ever; for a holy sorrow chastened
+      and sublimed her features: it was now a sweet, angelic, pensive beauty,
+      that interested every feeling person at a glance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She would visit no one; but a twelvemonth after her bereavement, she
+      received a few chosen visitors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day a young gentleman called, and sent up his card, &ldquo;Lord Tadcaster,&rdquo;
+       with a note from Lady Cicely Treherne, full of kindly feeling. Uncle
+      Philip had reconciled her to Lady Cicely; but they had never met.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Staines was much agitated at the very name of Lord Tadcaster; but she
+      would not have missed seeing him for the world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She received him with her beautiful eyes wide open, to drink in every
+      lineament of one who had seen the last of her Christopher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Tadcaster was wonderfully improved: he had grown six inches out at sea,
+      and though still short, was not diminutive; he was a small Apollo, a model
+      of symmetry, and had an engaging, girlish beauty, redeemed from downright
+      effeminacy by a golden mustache like silk, and a tanned cheek that became
+      him wonderfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He seemed dazzled at first by Mrs. Staines, but murmured that Lady Cicely
+      had told him to come, or he would not have ventured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who can be so welcome to me as you?&rdquo; said she, and the tears came thick
+      in her eyes directly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon, he hardly knew how, he found himself talking of Staines, and telling
+      her what a favorite he was, and all the clever things he had done.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The tears streamed down her cheeks, but she begged him to go on telling
+      her, and omit nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He complied heartily, and was even so moved by the telling of his friend's
+      virtues, and her tears and sobs, that he mingled his tears with hers. She
+      rewarded him by giving him her hand as she turned away her tearful face to
+      indulge the fresh burst of grief his sympathy evoked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he was leaving, she said, in her simple way, &ldquo;Bless you&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Come
+      again,&rdquo; she said: &ldquo;you have done a poor widow good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Tadcaster was so interested and charmed, he would gladly have come
+      back next day to see her; but he restrained that extravagance, and waited
+      a week.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he visited her again. He had observed the villa was not rich in
+      flowers, and he took her down a magnificent bouquet, cut from his father's
+      hot-houses. At sight of him, or at sight of it, or both, the color rose
+      for once in her pale cheek, and her pensive face wore a sweet expression
+      of satisfaction. She took his flowers, and thanked him for them, and for
+      coming to see her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon they got on the only topic she cared for, and, in the course of this
+      second conversation, he took her into his confidence, and told her he owed
+      everything to Dr. Staines. &ldquo;I was on the wrong road altogether, and he put
+      me right. To tell you the truth, I used to disobey him now and then, while
+      he was alive, and I was always the worse for it; now he is gone, I never
+      disobey him. I have written down a lot of wise, kind things he said to me,
+      and I never go against any one of them. I call it my book of oracles. Dear
+      me, I might have brought it with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes! why didn't you?&rdquo; rather reproachfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will bring it next time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she looked at him with her lovely swimming eyes, and said tenderly,
+      &ldquo;And so here is another that disobeyed him living, but obeys him dead.
+      What will you think when I tell you that I, his wife, who now worship him
+      when it is too late, often thwarted and vexed him when he was alive?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no. He told me you were an angel, and I believe it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An angel! a good-for-nothing, foolish woman, who sees everything too
+      late.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody else should say so before me,&rdquo; said the little gentleman grandly.
+      &ldquo;I shall take HIS word before yours on this one subject. If ever there was
+      an angel, you are one; and oh, what would I give if I could but say or do
+      anything in the world to comfort you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can do nothing for ME, dear, but come and see me often, and talk to
+      me as you do&mdash;on the one sad theme my broken heart has room for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This invitation delighted Lord Tadcaster, and the sweet word &ldquo;dear,&rdquo; from
+      her lovely lips, entered his heart, and ran through all his veins like
+      some rapturous but dangerous elixir. He did not say to himself, &ldquo;She is a
+      widow with a child, feels old with grief, and looks on me as a boy who has
+      been kind to her.&rdquo; Such prudence and wariness were hardly to be expected
+      from his age. He had admired her at first sight, very nearly loved her at
+      their first interview, and now this sweet word opened a heavenly vista.
+      The generous heart that beat in his small frame burned to console her with
+      a life-long devotion and all the sweet offices of love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He ordered his yacht to Gravesend&mdash;for he had become a sailor&mdash;and
+      then he called on Mrs. Staines, and told her, with a sort of sheepish
+      cunning, that now, as his yacht HAPPENED to be at Gravesend, he could come
+      and see her very often. He watched her timidly, to see how she would take
+      that proposition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She said, with the utmost simplicity, &ldquo;I'm very glad of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he produced his oracles; and she devoured them. Such precepts to
+      Tadcaster as she could apply to her own case she instantly noted in her
+      memory, and they became her law from that moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, in her simplicity, she said, &ldquo;And I will show you some things, in
+      his own handwriting, that may be good for you; but I can't show you the
+      whole book: some of it is sacred from every eye but his wife's. His
+      wife's? Ah me! his widow's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she pointed out passages in the diary that she thought might be for
+      his good; and he nestled to her side, and followed her white finger with
+      loving eyes, and was in an elysium&mdash;which she would certainly have
+      put a stop to at that time, had she divined it. But all wisdom does not
+      come at once to an unguarded woman. Rosa Staines was wiser about her
+      husband than she had been, but she had plenty to learn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Tadcaster anchored off Gravesend, and visited Mrs. Staines nearly
+      every day. She received him with a pleasure that was not at all lively,
+      but quite undisguised. He could not doubt his welcome; for once, when he
+      came, she said to the servant, &ldquo;Not at home,&rdquo; a plain proof she did not
+      wish his visit to be cut short by any one else.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And so these visits and devoted attentions of every kind went on
+      unobserved by Lord Tadcaster's friends, because Rosa would never go out,
+      even with him; but at last Mr. Lusignan saw plainly how this would end,
+      unless he interfered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Well, he did not interfere; on the contrary, he was careful to avoid
+      putting his daughter on her guard: he said to himself, &ldquo;Lord Tadcaster
+      does her good. I'm afraid she would not marry him, if he was to ask her
+      now; but in time she might. She likes him a great deal better than any one
+      else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As for Philip, he was abroad for his own health, somewhat impaired by his
+      long and faithful attendance on Rosa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So now Lord Tadcaster was in constant attendance on Rosa. She was languid,
+      but gentle and kind; and, as mourners, like invalids, are apt to be
+      egotistical, she saw nothing but that he was a comfort to her in her
+      affliction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While matters were so, the Earl of Miltshire, who had long been sinking,
+      died, and Tadcaster succeeded to his honors and estates.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa heard of it, and, thinking it was a great bereavement, wrote him one
+      of those exquisite letters of condolence a lady alone can write. He took
+      it to Lady Cicely, and showed it her. She highly approved it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He said, &ldquo;The only thing&mdash;it makes me ashamed, I do not feel my poor
+      father's death more; but you know it has been so long expected.&rdquo; Then he
+      was silent a long time; and then he asked her if such a woman as that
+      would not make him happy, if he could win her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was on her ladyship's tongue to say, &ldquo;She did not make her first
+      happy;&rdquo; but she forbore, and said coldly, that was maw than she could say.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Tadcaster seemed disappointed by that, and by and by Cicely took herself
+      to task. She asked herself what were Tadcaster's chances in the lottery of
+      wives. The heavy army of scheming mothers, and the light cavalry of artful
+      daughters, rose before her cousinly and disinterested eyes, and she asked
+      herself what chance poor little Tadcaster would have of catching a true
+      love, with a hundred female artists manoeuvring, wheeling, ambuscading,
+      and charging upon his wealth and titles. She returned to the subject of
+      her own accord, and told him she saw but one objection to such a match:
+      the lady had a son by a man of rare merit and misfortune. Could he, at his
+      age, undertake to be a father to that son? &ldquo;Othahwise,&rdquo; said Lady Cicely,
+      &ldquo;mark my words, you will quall over that poor child; and you will have two
+      to quall with, because I shall be on her side.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Tadcaster declared to her that child should be quite the opposite of a
+      bone of contention. &ldquo;I have thought of that,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;and I mean to be
+      so kind to that boy, I shall MAKE her love me for that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On these terms Lady Cicely gave her consent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he asked her should he write, or ask her in person.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Cicely reflected. &ldquo;If you write, I think she will say no.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But if I go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, it will depend on how you do it. Rosa Staines is a true mourner.
+      Whatever you may think, I don't believe the idea of a second union has
+      ever entered her head. But then she is very unselfish: and she likes you
+      better than any one else, I dare say. I don't think your title or your
+      money will weigh with her now. But, if you show her your happiness depends
+      on it, she may, perhaps, cwy and sob at the very idea of it, and then,
+      after all, say, 'Well, why not&mdash;if I can make the poor soul happy?'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So, on this advice, Tadcaster went down to Gravesend, and Lady Cicely felt
+      a certain self-satisfaction; for, her well-meant interference having lost
+      Rosa one husband, she was pleased to think she had done something to give
+      her another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Tadcaster came to Rosa Staines; he found her seated with her head
+      upon her white hand, thinking sadly of the past.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At sight of him in deep mourning, she started, and said, &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she said tenderly, &ldquo;We are of one color now,&rdquo; and gave him her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sat down beside her, not knowing how to begin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not Tadcaster now. I am Earl of Miltshire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes; I forgot,&rdquo; said she indifferently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is my first visit to any one in that character.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is an awfully important visit to me. I could not feel myself
+      independent, and able to secure your comfort and little Christie's,
+      without coming to the lady, the only lady I ever saw, that&mdash;oh, Mrs.
+      Staines&mdash;Rosa&mdash;who could see you, as I have done&mdash;mingle
+      his tears with yours, as I have done, and not love you, and long to offer
+      you his love?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Love! to me, a broken-hearted woman, with nothing to live for but his
+      memory and his child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at him with a sort of scared amazement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His child shall be mine. His memory is almost as dear to me as to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense, child, nonsense!&rdquo; said she, almost sternly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was he not my best friend? Should I have the health I enjoy, or even be
+      alive, but for him? Oh, Mrs. Staines&mdash;Rosa, you will not live all
+      your life unmarried; and who will love you as I do? You are my first and
+      only love. My happiness depends on you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your happiness depend on me! Heaven forbid&mdash;a woman of my age, that
+      feels so old, old, old.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not old; you are young, and sad, and beautiful, and my happiness
+      depends on you.&rdquo; She began to tremble a little. Then he kneeled at her
+      knees, and implored her, and his hot tears fell upon the hand she put out
+      to stop him, while she turned her head away, and the tears began to run.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh! never can the cold dissecting pen tell what rushes over the heart that
+      has loved and lost, when another true love first kneels and implores for
+      love, or pity, or anything the bereaved can give.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      When Falcon went, luck seemed to desert their claim: day after day went by
+      without a find; and the discoveries on every side made this the more
+      mortifying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By this time the diggers at Bulteel's pan were as miscellaneous as the
+      audience at Drury Lane Theatre, only mixed more closely; the gallery folk
+      and the stalls worked cheek by jowl. Here a gentleman with an affected
+      lisp, and close by an honest fellow, who could not deliver a sentence
+      without an oath, or some still more horrible expletive that meant nothing
+      at all in reality, but served to make respectable flesh creep:
+      interspersed with these, Hottentots, Kafirs, and wild blue blacks gayly
+      clad in an ostrich feather, a scarlet ribbon, and a Tower musket sold them
+      by some good Christian for a modern rifle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On one side of Staines were two swells, who lay on their backs and talked
+      opera half the day, but seldom condescended to work without finding a
+      diamond of some sort.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a week's deplorable luck, his Kafir boy struck work on account of a
+      sore in his leg; the sore was due to a very common cause, the burning sand
+      had got into a scratch, and festered. Staines, out of humanity, examined
+      the sore; and proceeding to clean it, before bandaging, out popped a
+      diamond worth forty pounds, even in the depreciated market. Staines
+      quietly pocketed it, and bandaged the leg. This made him suspect his
+      blacks had been cheating him on a large scale, and he borrowed Hans
+      Bulteel to watch them, giving him a third, with which Master Hans was
+      mightily pleased. But they could only find small diamonds, and by this
+      time prodigious slices of luck were reported on every side. Kafirs and
+      Boers that would not dig, but traversed large tracts of ground when the
+      sun was shining, stumbled over diamonds. One Boer pointed to a wagon and
+      eight oxen, and said that one lucky glance on the sand had given him that
+      lot: but day after day Staines returned home, covered with dust, and
+      almost blinded, yet with little or nothing to show for it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One evening, complaining of his change of luck, Bulteel quietly proposed
+      to him migration. &ldquo;I am going,&rdquo; said he resignedly: &ldquo;and you can come with
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You leave your farm, sir? Why, they pay you ten shillings a claim, and
+      that must make a large return; the pan is fifteen acres.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, mine vriend,&rdquo; said the poor Hollander, &ldquo;they pay; but deir money it
+      cost too dear. Vere is mine peace? Dis farm is six tousand acres. If de
+      cursed diamonds was farther off, den it vas vell. But dey are too near.
+      Once I could smoke in peace, and zleep. Now diamonds is come, and zleep
+      and peace is fled. Dere is four tousand tents, and to each tent a dawg;
+      dat dawg bark at four tousand other dawgs all night, and dey bark at him
+      and at each oder. Den de masters of de dawgs dey get angry, and fire four
+      tousand pistole at de four tousand dawgs, and make my bed shake wid the
+      trembling of mine vrow. My vamily is with diamonds infected. Dey vill not
+      vork. Dey takes long valks, and always looks on de ground. Mine childre
+      shall be hump-backed, round-shouldered, looking down for diamonds. Dey
+      shall forget Gott. He is on high: dere eyes are always on de earth. De
+      diggers found a diamond in mine plaster of mine wall of mine house. Dat
+      plaster vas limestone; it come from dose kopjes de good Gott made in His
+      anger against man for his vickedness. I zay so. Dey not believe me. Dey
+      tink dem abominable stones grow in mine house, and break out in mine
+      plaster like de measle: dey vaunt to dig in mine wall, in mine garden, in
+      mine floor. One day dey shall dig in mine body. I vill go. Better I love
+      peace dan money. Here is English company make me offer for mine varm. Dey
+      forgive de diamonds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have not accepted it?&rdquo; cried Staines in alarm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, but I vill. I have said I shall tink of it. Dat is my vay. So I say
+      yah.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An English company? They will cheat you without mercy. No, they shall
+      not, though, for I will have a hand in the bargain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He set to work directly, added up the value of the claims, at ten
+      shillings per month, and amazed the poor Hollander by his statement of the
+      value of those fifteen acres, capitalized.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And to close this part of the subject, the obnoxious diamonds obtained him
+      three times as much as his father had given for the whole six thousand
+      acres.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The company got a great bargain, but Bulteel received what for him was a
+      large capital, and settling far to the south, this lineal descendant of le
+      philosophe sans savoir carried his godliness, his cleanliness, and his
+      love of peace, out of the turmoil, and was happier than ever, since now he
+      could compare his placid existence with one year of noise and clamor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But long before this, events more pertinent to my story had occurred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day, a Hottentot came into Bulteel's farm and went out among the
+      diggers, till he found Staines. The Hottentot was one employed at Dale's
+      Kloof, and knew him. He brought Staines a letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines opened the letter, and another letter fell out; it was directed to
+      &ldquo;Reginald Falcon, Esq.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why,&rdquo; thought Staines, &ldquo;what a time this letter must have been on the
+      road! So much for private messengers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The letter ran thus:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      DEAR SIR,&mdash;This leaves us all well at Dale's Kloof, as I hope it
+      shall find you and my dear husband at the diggings. Sir, I am happy to say
+      I have good news for you. When you got well by God's mercy, I wrote to the
+      doctor at the hospital and told him so. I wrote unbeknown to you, because
+      I had promised him. Well, sir, he has written back to say you have two
+      hundred pounds in money, and a great many valuable things, such as gold
+      and jewels. They are all at the old bank in Cape Town, and the cashier has
+      seen you, and will deliver them on demand. So that is the first of my good
+      news, because it is good news to you. But, dear sir, I think you will be
+      pleased to hear that Dick and I are thriving wonderfully, thanks to your
+      good advice. The wooden house it is built, and a great oven. But, sir, the
+      traffic came almost before we were ready, and the miners that call here,
+      coming and going, every day, you would not believe, likewise wagons and
+      carts. It is all bustle, morn till night, and dear Reginald will never be
+      dull here now; I hope you will be so kind as tell him so, for I do long to
+      see you both home again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sir, we are making our fortunes. The grain we could not sell at a fair
+      price, we sell as bread, and higher than in England ever so much. Tea and
+      coffee the same; and the poor things praise us, too, for being so
+      moderate. So, sir, Dick bids me say that we owe this to you, and if so be
+      you are minded to share, why nothing would please us better. Head-piece is
+      always worth money in these parts; and if it hurts your pride to be our
+      partner without money, why you can throw in what you have at the Cape,
+      though we don't ask that. And, besides, we are offered diamonds a bargain
+      every day, but are afraid to deal, for want of experience; but if you were
+      in it with us, you must know them well by this time, and we might turn
+      many a good pound that way. Dear sir, I hope you will not be offended, but
+      I think this is the only way we have, Dick and I, to show our respect and
+      good-will.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dear sir, digging is hard work, and not fit for you and Reginald, that are
+      gentlemen, amongst a lot of rough fellows, that their talk makes my hair
+      stand on end, though I dare say they mean no harm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Your bedroom is always ready, sir. I never will let it to any of them,
+      hoping now to see you every day. You that know everything, can guess how I
+      long to see you both home. My very good fortune seems not to taste like
+      good fortune, without those I love and esteem to share it. I shall count
+      how many days this letter will take to reach you, and then I shall pray
+      for your safety harder than ever, till the blessed hour comes when I see
+      my husband, and my good friend, never to part again, I hope, in this
+      world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I am sir, your dutiful servant and friend,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      PHOEBE DALE.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      P.S. There is regular travelling to and from Cape Town, and a post now to
+      Pniel, but I thought it surest to send by one that knows you.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines read this letter with great satisfaction. He remembered his two
+      hundred pounds, but his gold and jewels puzzled him. Still it was good
+      news, and pleased him not a little. Phoebe's good fortune gratified him
+      too, and her offer of a partnership, especially in the purchase of
+      diamonds from returning diggers. He saw a large fortune to be made; and
+      wearied and disgusted with recent ill-luck, blear-eyed and almost blinded
+      with sorting in the blazing sun, he resolved to go at once to Dale's
+      Kloof. Should Mrs. Falcon be gone to England with the diamonds, he would
+      stay there, and Rosa should come out to him, or he would go and fetch her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went home, and washed himself, and told Bulteel he had had good news,
+      and should leave the diggings at once. He gave him up the claim, and told
+      him to sell it by auction. It was worth two hundred pounds still. The good
+      people sympathized with him, and he started within an hour. He left his
+      pickaxe and shovel, and took only his double rifle, an admirable one, some
+      ammunition, including conical bullets and projectile shells given him by
+      Falcon, a bag full of carbuncles and garnets he had collected for
+      Ucatella, a few small diamonds, and one hundred pounds,&mdash;all that
+      remained to him, since he had been paying wages and other things for
+      months, and had given Falcon twenty for his journey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He rode away and soon put twenty miles between him and the diggings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He came to a little store that bought diamonds and sold groceries and
+      tobacco. He haltered his horse to a hook, and went in. He offered a small
+      diamond for sale. The master was out, and the assistant said there was a
+      glut of these small stones, he did not care to give money for it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, give me three dozen cigars.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While they were chaffering, in walked a Hottentot, and said, &ldquo;Will you buy
+      this?&rdquo; and laid a clear, glittering stone on the counter, as large as a
+      walnut.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the young man. &ldquo;How much?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Two hundred pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Two hundred pounds! Let us look at it;&rdquo; he examined it, and said he
+      thought it was a diamond, but these large stones were so deceitful, he
+      dared not give two hundred pounds. &ldquo;Come again in an hour,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;then
+      the master will be in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the Hottentot quietly, and walked out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines, who had been literally perspiring at the sight of this stone,
+      mounted his horse and followed the man. When he came up to him, he asked
+      leave to examine the gem. The Hottentot quietly assented.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines looked at it all over. It had a rough side and a polished side,
+      and the latter was of amazing softness and lustre. It made him tremble. He
+      said, &ldquo;Look here, I have only one hundred pounds in my pocket.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Hottentot shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But if you will go back with me to Bulteel's farm, I'll borrow the other
+      hundred.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Hottentot declined, and told him he could get four hundred pounds for
+      it by going back to Pniel. &ldquo;But,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;my face is turned so; and when
+      Squat turn his face so, he going home. Not can bear go the other way
+      then,&rdquo; and he held out his hand for the diamond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines gave it him, and was in despair at seeing such a prize so near,
+      yet leaving him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He made one more effort. &ldquo;Well, but,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;how far are you going this
+      way?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ten days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, so am I. Come with me to Dale's Kloof, and I will give the other
+      hundred. See, I am in earnest, for here is one hundred, at all events.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines made this proposal, trembling with excitement. To his surprise and
+      joy, the Hottentot assented, though with an air of indifference; and on
+      these terms they became fellow-travellers, and Staines gave him a cigar.
+      They went on side by side, and halted for the night forty miles from
+      Bulteel's farm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They slept in a Boer's out-house, and the vrow was civil, and lent Staines
+      a jackal's skin. In the morning he bought it for a diamond, a carbuncle,
+      and a score of garnets; for a horrible thought had occurred to him, if
+      they stopped at any place where miners were, somebody might buy the great
+      diamond over his head. This fear, and others, grew on him, and with all
+      his philosophy he went on thorns, and was the slave of the diamond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He resolved to keep his Hottentot all to himself if possible. He shot a
+      springbok that crossed the road, and they roasted a portion of the animal,
+      and the Hottentot carried some on with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Seeing he admired the rifle, Staines offered it him for the odd hundred
+      pounds; but though Squat's eye glittered a moment, he declined.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Finding that they met too many diggers and carts, Staines asked his
+      Hottentot was there no nearer way to reach that star, pointing to one he
+      knew was just over Dale's Kloof.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh, yes, he knew a nearer way, where there were trees, and shade, and
+      grass, and many beasts to shoot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us take that way,&rdquo; said Staines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Hottentot, ductile as wax, except about the price of the diamond,
+      assented calmly; and next day they diverged, and got into forest scenery,
+      and their eyes were soothed with green glades here and there, wherever the
+      clumps of trees sheltered the grass from the panting sun. Animals
+      abounded, and were tame. Staines, an excellent marksman, shot the
+      Hottentot his supper without any trouble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sleeping in the wood, with not a creature near but Squat, a sombre thought
+      struck Staines. Suppose this Hottentot should assassinate him for his
+      money, who would ever know? The thought was horrible, and he awoke with a
+      start ten times that night. The Hottentot slept like a stone, and never
+      feared for his own life and precious booty. Staines was compelled to own
+      to himself he had less faith in human goodness than the savage had. He
+      said to himself, &ldquo;He is my superior. He is the master of this dreadful
+      diamond, and I am its slave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day they went on till noon, and then they halted at a really
+      delightful spot; a silver kloof ran along a bottom, and there was a little
+      clump of three acacia-trees that lowered their long tresses, pining for
+      the stream, and sometimes getting a cool grateful kiss from it when the
+      water was high.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They halted the horse, bathed in the stream, and lay luxurious under the
+      acacias. All was delicious languor and enjoyment of life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Hottentot made a fire, and burnt the remains of a little sort of
+      kangaroo Staines had shot him the evening before; but it did not suffice
+      his maw, and looking about him, he saw three elands leisurely feeding
+      about three hundred yards off. They were cropping the rich herbage close
+      to the shelter of a wood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Hottentot suggested that this was an excellent opportunity. He would
+      borrow Staines's rifle, steal into the wood, crawl on his belly close up
+      to them, and send a bullet through one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines did not relish the proposal. He had seen the savage's eye
+      repeatedly gloat on the rifle, and was not without hopes he might even yet
+      relent, and give the great diamond for the hundred pounds and this rifle;
+      and he was so demoralized by the diamond, and filled with suspicion, that
+      he feared the savage, if he once had the rifle in his possession, might
+      levant, and be seen no more, in which case he, Staines, still the slave of
+      the diamond, might hang himself on the nearest tree, and so secure his
+      Rosa the insurance money, at all events. In short, he had really diamond
+      on the brain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He hem'd and haw'd a little at Squat's proposal, and then got out of it by
+      saying, &ldquo;That is not necessary. I can shoot it from here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is too far,&rdquo; objected Blacky.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Too far! This is an Enfield rifle. I could kill the poor beast at three
+      times that distance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Blacky was amazed. &ldquo;An Enfield rifle,&rdquo; said he, in the soft musical murmur
+      of his tribe, which is the one charm of the poor Hottentot; &ldquo;and shoot
+      three times SO far.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Christopher. Then, seeing his companion's hesitation, he
+      conceived a hope. &ldquo;If I kill that eland from here, will you give me the
+      diamond for my horse and the wonderful rifle?&mdash;no Hottentot has such
+      a rifle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Squat became cold directly. &ldquo;The price of the diamond is two hundred
+      pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines groaned with disappointment, and thought to himself with rage,
+      &ldquo;Anybody but me would club the rifle, give the obstinate black brute a
+      stunner, and take the diamond&mdash;God forgive me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Says the Hottentot cunningly, &ldquo;I can't think so far as white man. Let me
+      see the eland dead, and then I shall know how far the rifle shoot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said Staines. But he felt sure the savage only wanted his
+      meal, and would never part with the diamond, except for the odd money.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, he loaded his left barrel with one of the explosive projectiles
+      Falcon had given him; it was a little fulminating shell with a steel
+      point. It was with this barrel he had shot the murcat overnight, and he
+      had found he shot better with this barrel than the other. He loaded his
+      left barrel then, saw the powder well up, capped it and cut away a strip
+      of the acacia with his knife to see clear, and lying down in volunteer
+      fashion, elbow on ground, drew his bead steadily on an eland who presented
+      him her broadside, her back being turned to the wood. The sun shone on her
+      soft coat, and never was a fairer mark, the sportsman's deadly eye being
+      in the cool shade, the animal in the sun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He aimed long and steadily. But just as he was about to pull the trigger,
+      Mind interposed, and he lowered the deadly weapon. &ldquo;Poor creature!&rdquo; he
+      said, &ldquo;I am going to take her life&mdash;for what? for a single meal. She
+      is as big as a pony; and I am to lay her carcass on the plain, that we may
+      eat two pounds of it. This is how the weasel kills the rabbit; sucks an
+      ounce of blood for his food, and wastes the rest. So the demoralized
+      sheep-dog tears out the poor creature's kidneys, and wastes the rest. Man,
+      armed by science with such powers of slaying, should be less egotistical
+      than weasels and perverted sheep-dogs. I will not kill her. I will not lay
+      that beautiful body of hers low, and glaze those tender, loving eyes that
+      never gleamed with hate or rage at man, and fix those innocent jaws that
+      never bit the life out of anything, not even of the grass she feeds on,
+      and does it more good than harm. Feed on, poor innocent. And you be
+      blanked; you and your diamond, that I begin to wish I had never seen; for
+      it would corrupt an angel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Squat understood one word in ten, but he managed to reply. &ldquo;This is
+      nonsense-talk,&rdquo; said he, gravely. &ldquo;The life is no bigger in that than in
+      the murcat you shot last shoot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No more it is,&rdquo; said Staines. &ldquo;I am a fool. It is come to this, then;
+      Kafirs teach us theology, and Hottentots morality. I bow to my
+      intellectual superior. I'll shoot the eland.&rdquo; He raised his rifle again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, no, no, no, no,&rdquo; murmured the Hottentot, in a sweet voice
+      scarcely audible, yet so keen in its entreaty, that Staines turned hastily
+      round to look at him. His face was ashy, his teeth chattering, his limbs
+      shaking. Before Staines could ask him what was the matter, he pointed
+      through an aperture of the acacias into the wood hard by the elands.
+      Staines looked, and saw what seemed to him like a very long dog, or some
+      such animal, crawling from tree to tree. He did not at all share the
+      terror of his companion, nor understand it. But a terrible explanation
+      followed. This creature, having got to the skirt of the wood, expanded, by
+      some strange magic, to an incredible size, and sprang into the open, with
+      a growl, a mighty lion; he seemed to ricochet from the ground, so immense
+      was his second bound, that carried him to the eland, and he struck her one
+      blow on the head with his terrible paw, and felled her as if with a
+      thunderbolt: down went her body, with all the legs doubled, and her poor
+      head turned over, and the nose kissed the ground. The lion stood
+      motionless. Presently the eland, who was not dead, but stunned, began to
+      recover and struggle feebly up. Then the lion sprang on her with a roar,
+      and rolled her over, and with two tremendous bites and a shake, tore her
+      entrails out and laid her dying. He sat composedly down, and contemplated
+      her last convulsions, without touching her again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this roar, though not loud, the horse, though he had never heard or
+      seen a lion, trembled, and pulled at his halter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Blacky crept into the water; and Staines was struck with such an awe as he
+      had never felt. Nevertheless, the king of beasts being at a distance, and
+      occupied, and Staines a brave man, and out of sight, he kept his ground
+      and watched, and by those means saw a sight never to be forgotten. The
+      lion rose up, and stood in the sun incredibly beautiful as well as
+      terrible. He was not the mangy hue of the caged lion, but a skin tawny,
+      golden, glossy as a race-horse, and of exquisite tint that shone like pure
+      gold in the sun; his eye a lustrous jewel of richest hue, and his mane
+      sublime. He looked towards the wood, and uttered a full roar. This was so
+      tremendous that the horse shook all over as if in an ague, and began to
+      lather. Staines recoiled, and his flesh crept, and the Hottentot went
+      under water, and did not emerge for ever so long.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a pause, the lion roared again, and all the beasts and birds of prey
+      seemed to know the meaning of that terrible roar. Till then the place had
+      been a solitude, but now it began to fill in the strangest way, as if the
+      lord of the forest could call all his subjects together with a trumpet
+      roar: first came two lion cubs, to whom, in fact, the roar had been
+      addressed. The lion rubbed himself several times against the eland, but
+      did not eat a morsel, and the cubs went in and feasted on the prey. The
+      lion politely and paternally drew back, and watched the young people
+      enjoying themselves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime approached, on tiptoe, jackals and hyenas, but dared not come too
+      near. Slate-colored vultures settled at a little distance, but not a soul
+      dared interfere with the cubs; they saw the lion was acting sentinel, and
+      they knew better than come near.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a time, papa feared for the digestion of those brats, or else his
+      own mouth watered; for he came up, knocked them head over heels with his
+      velvet paw, and they took the gentle hint, and ran into the wood double
+      quick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the lion began tearing away at the eland, and bolting huge morsels
+      greedily. This made the rabble's mouth water. The hyenas, and jackals, and
+      vultures formed a circle ludicrous to behold, and that circle kept
+      narrowing as the lion tore away at his prey. They increased in number, and
+      at last hunger overcame prudence; the rear rank shoved on the front, as
+      amongst men, and a general attack seemed imminent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the lion looked up at these invaders, uttered a reproachful growl,
+      and went at them, patting them right and left, and knocking them over. He
+      never touched a vulture, nor indeed did he kill an animal. He was a lion,
+      and only killed to eat; yet he soon cleared the place, because he knocked
+      over a few hyenas and jackals, and the rest, being active, tumbled over
+      the vultures before they could spread their heavy wings. After this
+      warning, they made a respectful circle again, through which, in due
+      course, the gorged lion stalked into the wood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A savage's sentiments change quickly, and the Hottentot, fearing little
+      from a full lion, was now giggling at Staines's side. Staines asked him
+      which he thought was the lord of all creatures, a man or a lion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A lion,&rdquo; said Blacky, amazed at such a shallow question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines now got up, and proposed to continue their journey. But Blacky was
+      for waiting till the lion was gone to sleep after his meal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While they discussed the question, the lion burst out of the wood within
+      hearing of their voices, as his pricked-up ears showed, and made straight
+      for them at a distance of scarcely thirty yards.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, the chances are, the lion knew nothing about them, and only came to
+      drink at the kloof, after his meal, and perhaps lie under the acacias: but
+      who can think calmly, when his first lion bursts out on him a few paces
+      off? Staines shouldered his rifle, took a hasty, flurried aim, and sent a
+      bullet at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If he had missed him, perhaps the report might have turned the lion; but
+      he wounded him, and not mortally. Instantly the enraged beast uttered a
+      terrific roar, and came at him with his mane distended with rage, his eyes
+      glaring, his mouth open, and his whole body dilated with fury.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that terrible moment, Staines recovered his wits enough to see that
+      what little chance he had was to fire into the destroyer, not at him. He
+      kneeled, and levelled at the centre of the lion's chest, and not till he
+      was within five yards did he fire. Through the smoke he saw the lion in
+      the air above him, and rolled shrieking into the stream and crawled like a
+      worm under the bank, by one motion, and there lay trembling. A few seconds
+      of sick stupor passed: all was silent. Had the lion lost him? Was it
+      possible he might yet escape?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All was silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He listened, in agony, for the sniffing of the lion, puzzling him out by
+      scent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No: all was silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines looked round, and saw a woolly head, and two saucer eyes and open
+      nostrils close by him. It was the Hottentot, more dead than alive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines whispered him, &ldquo;I think he is gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Hottentot whispered, &ldquo;Gone a little way to watch. He is wise as well
+      as strong.&rdquo; With this he disappeared beneath the water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still no sound but the screaming of the vultures, and snarling of the
+      hyenas and jackals over the eland.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take a look,&rdquo; said Staines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Squat; &ldquo;but not to-day. Wait here a day or two. Den he forget
+      and forgive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now Staines, having seen the lion lie down and watch the dying eland, was
+      a great deal impressed by this; and as he had now good hopes of saving his
+      life, he would not throw away a chance. He kept his head just above water,
+      and never moved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this freezing situation they remained.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently there was a rustling that made both crouch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was followed by a croaking noise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher made himself small.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Hottentot, on the contrary, raised his head, and ventured a little way
+      into the stream.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By these means he saw it was something very foul, but not terrible. It was
+      a large vulture that had settled on the very top of the nearest acacia.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this the Hottentot got bolder still, and to the great surprise of
+      Staines began to crawl cautiously into some rushes, and through them up
+      the bank.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next moment he burst into a mixture of yelling and chirping and
+      singing, and other sounds so manifestly jubilant, that the vulture flapped
+      heavily away, and Staines emerged in turn, but very cautiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Could he believe his eyes? There lay the lion, dead as a stone, on his
+      back, with his four legs in the air, like wooden legs, they were so very
+      dead: and the valiant Squat, dancing about him, and on him, and over him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines, unable to change his sentiments so quickly, eyed even the dead
+      body of the royal beast with awe and wonder. What! had he already laid
+      that terrible monarch low, and with a tube made in a London shop by men
+      who never saw a lion spring, nor heard his awful roar shake the air? He
+      stood with his heart still beating, and said not a word. The shallow
+      Hottentot whipped out a large knife, and began to skin the king of beasts.
+      Staines wondered he could so profane that masterpiece of nature. He felt
+      more inclined to thank God for so great a preservation, and then pass
+      reverently on, and leave the dead king undesecrated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was roused from his solemn thoughts by the reflection that there might
+      be a lioness about, since there were cubs: he took a piece of paper,
+      emptied his remaining powder into it, and proceeded to dry it in the sun.
+      This was soon done, and then he loaded both barrels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By this time the adroit Hottentot had flayed the carcass sufficiently to
+      reveal the mortal injury. The projectile had entered the chest, and
+      slanting upwards, had burst among the vitals, reducing them to a gory
+      pulp. The lion must have died in the air, when he bounded on receiving the
+      fatal shot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Hottentot uttered a cry of admiration. &ldquo;Not the lion king of all, nor
+      even the white man,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;but Enfeel rifle!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines's eyes glittered. &ldquo;You shall have it, and the horse, for your
+      diamond,&rdquo; said he eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The black seemed a little shaken; but did not reply. He got out of it by
+      going on with his lion; and Staines eyed him, and was bitterly
+      disappointed at not getting the diamond even on these terms. He began to
+      feel he should never get it: they were near the high-road; he could not
+      keep the Hottentot to himself much longer. He felt sick at heart. He had
+      wild and wicked thoughts; half hoped the lioness would come and kill the
+      Hottentot, and liberate the jewel that possessed his soul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last the skin was off, and the Hottentot said, &ldquo;Me take this to my
+      kraal, and dey all say, 'Squat a great shooter; kill um lion.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Staines saw another chance for him, and summoned all his address for
+      a last effort. &ldquo;No, Squat,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;that skin belongs to me. I shot the
+      lion, with the only rifle that can kill a lion like a cat. Yet you would
+      not give me a diamond&mdash;a paltry stone for it. No, Squat, if you were
+      to go into your village with that lion's skin, why the old men would bend
+      their heads to you, and say, 'Great is Squat! He killed the lion, and
+      wears his skin.' The young women would all fight which should be the wife
+      of Squat. Squat would be king of the village.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Squat's eyes began to roll.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And shall I give the skin, and the glory that is my due, to an
+      ill-natured fellow, who refuses me his paltry diamond for a good horse&mdash;look
+      at him&mdash;and for the rifle that kills lions like rabbits&mdash;behold
+      it; and a hundred pounds in good gold and Dutch notes&mdash;see; and for
+      the lion's skin, and glory, and honor, and a rich wife, and to be king of
+      Africa? Never!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Hottentot's hands and toes began to work convulsively. &ldquo;Good master,
+      Squat ask pardon. Squat was blind. Squat will give the diamond, the great
+      diamond of Africa, for the lion's skin, and the king rifle, and the little
+      horse, and the gold, and Dutch notes every one of them. Dat make just two
+      hundred pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More like four hundred,&rdquo; cried Staines very loud. &ldquo;And how do I know it
+      is a diamond? These large stones are the most deceitful. Show it me, this
+      instant,&rdquo; said he imperiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Iss, master,&rdquo; said the crushed Hottentot, with the voice of a mouse, and
+      put the stone into his hand with a child-like faith that almost melted
+      Staines; but he saw he must be firm. &ldquo;Where did you find it?&rdquo; he bawled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Master,&rdquo; said poor Squat, in deprecating tones, &ldquo;my little master at the
+      farm wanted plaster. He send to Bulteel's pan; dere was large lumps. Squat
+      say to miners, 'May we take de large lumps? Dey say, 'Yes; take de cursed
+      lumps we no can break.' We took de cursed lumps. We ride 'em in de cart to
+      farm twenty milses. I beat 'em with my hammer. Dey is very hard. More dey
+      break my heart dan I break their cursed heads. One day I use strong words,
+      like white man, and I hit one large lump too hard; he break, and out come
+      de white clear stone. Iss, him diamond. Long time we know him in our
+      kraal, because he hard. Long time before ever white man know him, tousand
+      years ago, we find him, and he make us lilly hole in big stone for make
+      wheat dust. Him a diamond, blank my eyes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was intended as a solemn form of asseveration adapted to the white
+      man's habits.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yes, reader, he told the truth; and strange to say, the miners knew the
+      largest stones were in these great lumps of carbonate, but then the lumps
+      were so cruelly hard, they lost all patience with them, and so, finding it
+      was no use to break some of them, and not all, they rejected them all,
+      with curses; and thus this great stone was carted away as rubbish from the
+      mine, and found, like a toad in a hole, by Squat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Christopher, &ldquo;after all, you are an honest fellow, and I
+      think I will buy it; but first you must show me out of this wood; I am not
+      going to be eaten alive in it for want of the king of rifles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Squat assented eagerly, and they started at once. They passed the skeleton
+      of the eland; its very bones were polished, and its head carried into the
+      wood; and looking back they saw vultures busy on the lion. They soon
+      cleared the wood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Squat handed Staines the diamond&mdash;when it touched his hand, as his
+      own, a bolt of ice seemed to run down his back, and hot water to follow it&mdash;and
+      the money, horse, rifle, and skin were made over to Squat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shake hands over it, Squat,&rdquo; said Staines; &ldquo;you are hard, but you are
+      honest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Iss, master, I a good much hard and honest,&rdquo; said Squat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-by, old fellow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-by, master.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Squat strutted away, with the halter in his hand, horse following him,
+      rifle under his arm, and the lion's skin over his shoulders, and the tail
+      trailing, a figure sublime in his own eyes, ridiculous in creation's. So
+      vanity triumphed, even in the wilds of Africa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines hurried forward on foot, loading his revolver as he went, for the
+      very vicinity of the wood alarmed him now that he had parted with his
+      trusty rifle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That night he lay down on the open veldt, in his jackal's skin, with no
+      weapon but his revolver, and woke with a start a dozen times. Just before
+      daybreak he scanned the stars carefully, and noting exactly where the sun
+      rose, made a rough guess at his course, and followed it till the sun was
+      too hot; then he crept under a ragged bush, hung up his jackal's skin, and
+      sweated there, parched with thirst, and gnawed with hunger. When it was
+      cooler, he crept on, and found water, but no food. He was in torture, and
+      began to be frightened, for he was in a desert. He found an ostrich egg
+      and ate it ravenously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day, hunger took a new form, faintness. He could not walk for it; his
+      jackal's skin oppressed him; he lay down exhausted. A horror seized his
+      dejected soul. The diamond! It would be his death. No man must so long for
+      any earthly thing as he had for this glittering traitor. &ldquo;Oh! my good
+      horse! my trusty rifle!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;For what have I thrown you away? For
+      starvation. Misers have been found stretched over their gold; and some day
+      my skeleton will be found, and nothing to tell the base death I died of
+      and deserved; nothing but the cursed diamond. Ay, fiend, glare in my eyes,
+      do!&rdquo; He felt delirium creeping over him; and at that a new terror froze
+      him. His reason, that he had lost once, was he to lose it again? He
+      prayed; he wept; he dozed, and forgot all. When he woke again, a cool air
+      was fanning his cheeks; it revived him a little; it became almost a
+      breeze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And this breeze, as it happened, carried on its wings the curse of Africa.
+      There loomed in the north-west a cloud of singular density, that seemed to
+      expand in size as it drew nearer, yet to be still more solid, and darken
+      the air. It seemed a dust-storm. Staines took out his handkerchief,
+      prepared to wrap his face in it, not to be stifled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But soon there was a whirring and a whizzing, and hundreds of locusts flew
+      over his head; they were followed by thousands, the swiftest of the mighty
+      host. They thickened and thickened, till the air looked solid, and even
+      that glaring sun was blackened by the rushing mass. Birds of all sorts
+      whirled above, and swooped among them. They peppered Staines all over like
+      shot. They stuck in his beard, and all over him; they clogged the bushes,
+      carpeted the ground, while the darkened air sang as with the whirl of
+      machinery. Every bird in the air, and beast of the field, granivorous or
+      carnivorous, was gorged with them; and to these animals was added man, for
+      Staines, being famished, and remembering the vrow Bulteel, lighted a fire,
+      and roasted a handful or two on a flat stone; they were delicious. The
+      fire once lighted, they cooked themselves, for they kept flying into it.
+      Three hours, without interruption, did they darken nature, and, before the
+      column ceased, all the beasts of the field came after, gorging them so
+      recklessly, that Staines could have shot an antelope dead with his pistol
+      within a yard of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But to tell the horrible truth, the cooked locusts were so nice that he
+      preferred to gorge on them along with the other animals.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He roasted another lot, for future use, and marched on with a good heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But now he got on some rough, scrubby ground, and damaged his shoes, and
+      tore his trousers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This lasted a terrible distance; but at the end of it came the usual arid
+      ground; and at last he came upon the track of wheels and hoofs. He struck
+      it at an acute angle, and that showed him he had made a good line. He
+      limped along it a little way, slowly, being footsore.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By and by, looking back, he saw a lot of rough fellows swaggering along
+      behind him. Then he was alarmed, terribly alarmed, for his diamond; he
+      tore a strip of his handkerchief, and tied the stone cunningly under his
+      armpit as he hobbled on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The men came up with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hallo, mate! Come from the diggings?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What luck?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Haw! haw! What! found a fifty-carat? Show it us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We found five big stones, my mate and me. He is gone to Cape Town to sell
+      them. I had no luck when he had left me, so I have cut it; going to turn
+      farmer. Can you tell me how far it is to Dale's Kloof?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No, they could not tell him that. They swung on; and, to Staines, their
+      backs were a cordial, as we say in Scotland.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, his travels were near an end. Next morning he saw Dale's Kloof in
+      the distance; and as soon as the heat moderated, he pushed on, with one
+      shoe and tattered trousers; and half an hour before sunset he hobbled up
+      to the place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was all bustle. Travellers at the door; their wagons and carts under a
+      long shed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ucatella was the first to see him coming, and came and fawned on him with
+      delight. Her eyes glistened, her teeth gleamed. She patted both his
+      cheeks, and then his shoulders, and even his knees, and then flew in-doors
+      crying, &ldquo;My doctor child is come home!&rdquo; This amused three travellers, and
+      brought out Dick, with a hearty welcome.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But Lordsake, sir, why have you come afoot; and a rough road too? Look at
+      your shoes. Hallo! What is come of the horse?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I exchanged him for a diamond.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The deuce you did! And the rifle?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exchanged that for the same diamond.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It ought to be a big 'un.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dick made a wry face. &ldquo;Well, sir, you know best. You are welcome, on horse
+      or afoot. You are just in time; Phoebe and me are just sitting down to
+      dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took him into a little room they had built for their own privacy, for
+      they liked to be quiet now and then, being country bred; and Phoebe was
+      putting their dinner on the table, when Staines limped in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She gave a joyful cry, and turned red all over. &ldquo;Oh, doctor!&rdquo; Then his
+      travel-torn appearance struck her. &ldquo;But, dear heart! what a figure!
+      Where's Reginald? Oh, he's not far off, I know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And she flung open the window, and almost flew through it in a moment, to
+      look for her husband.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Reginald?&rdquo; said Staines. Then turning to Dick Dale, &ldquo;Why, he is here&mdash;isn't
+      he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir: not without he is just come with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With me?&mdash;no. You know we parted at the diggings. Come, Mr. Dale, he
+      may not be here now; but he has been here. He must have been here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe, who had not lost a word, turned round, with all her high color
+      gone, and her cheeks getting paler and paler. &ldquo;Oh, Dick! what is this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't understand it,&rdquo; said Dick. &ldquo;Whatever made you think he was here,
+      sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, I tell you he left me to come here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Left you, sir!&rdquo; faltered Phoebe. &ldquo;Why, when?&mdash;where?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At the diggings&mdash;ever so long ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Blank him! that is just like him; the uneasy fool!&rdquo; roared Dick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Mr. Dale, you should not say that; he left me, with my consent, to
+      come to Mrs. Falcon here, and consult her about disposing of our
+      diamonds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Diamonds!&mdash;diamonds!&rdquo; cried Phoebe. &ldquo;Oh, they make me tremble. How
+      COULD you let him go alone! You didn't let HIM go on foot, I hope?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, Mrs. Falcon; he had his horse, and his rifle, and money to spend
+      on the road.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How long ago did he leave you, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I am sorry to say it was five weeks ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Five weeks! and not come yet. Ah! the wild beasts!&mdash;the diggers!&mdash;the
+      murderers! He is dead!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;God forbid!&rdquo; faltered Staines; but his own blood began to run cold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is dead. He has died between this and the dreadful diamonds. I shall
+      never see my darling again: he is dead. He is dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She rushed out of the room, and out of the house, throwing her arms above
+      her head in despair, and uttering those words of agony again and again in
+      every variety of anguish.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At such horrible moments women always swoon&mdash;if we are to believe the
+      dramatists. I doubt if there is one grain of truth in this. Women seldom
+      swoon at all, unless their bodies are unhealthy, or weakened by the
+      reaction that follows so terrible a shock as this. At all events, Phoebe,
+      at first, was strong and wild as a lion, and went to and fro outside the
+      house, unconscious of her body's motion, frenzied with agony, and but one
+      word on her lips, &ldquo;He is dead!&mdash;he is dead!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dick followed her, crying like a child, but master of himself; he got his
+      people about her, and half carried her in again; then shut the door in all
+      their faces.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He got the poor creature to sit down, and she began to rock and moan, with
+      her apron over her head, and her brown hair loose about her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should he be dead?&rdquo; said Dick. &ldquo;Don't give a man up like that,
+      Phoebe. Doctor, tell us more about it. Oh, man, how could you let him out
+      of your sight? You knew how fond the poor creature was of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But that was it, Mr. Dale,&rdquo; said Staines. &ldquo;I knew his wife must pine for
+      him; and we had found six large diamonds, and a handful of small ones; but
+      the market was glutted; and to get a better price, he wanted to go
+      straight to Cape Town. But I said, 'No; go and show them to your wife, and
+      see whether she will go to Cape Town.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe began to listen, as was evident by her moaning more softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Might he not have gone straight to Cape Town?&rdquo; Staines hazarded this
+      timidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should he do that, sir? Dale's Kloof is on the road.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only on one road. Mr. Dale, he was well armed, with rifle and revolver;
+      and I cautioned him not to show a diamond on the road. Who would molest
+      him? Diamonds don't show, like gold. Who was to know he had three thousand
+      pounds hidden under his armpits, and in two barrels of his revolver?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Three thousand pounds!&rdquo; cried Dale. &ldquo;You trusted HIM with three thousand
+      pounds?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly. They were worth about three thousand pounds in Cape Town, and
+      half as much again in&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe started up in a moment. &ldquo;Thank God!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;There's hope for
+      me. Oh, Dick, he is not dead: HE HAS ONLY DESERTED ME.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And with these strange and pitiable words, she fell to sobbing as if her
+      great heart would burst at last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIV.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      There came a reaction, and Phoebe was prostrated with grief and alarm. Her
+      brother never doubted now that Reginald had run to Cape Town for a lark.
+      But Phoebe, though she thought so too, could not be sure; and so the
+      double agony of bereavement and desertion tortured her by turns, and
+      almost together. For the first time these many years, she was so crushed
+      she could not go about her business, but lay on a little sofa in her own
+      room, and had the blinds down, for her head ached so she could not bear
+      the light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She conceived a bitter resentment against Staines; and told Dick never to
+      let him into her sight, if he did not want to be her death.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In vain Dick made excuses for him: she would hear none. For once she was
+      as unreasonable as any other living woman: she could see nothing but that
+      she had been happy, after years of misery, and should be happy now if this
+      man had never entered her house. &ldquo;Ah, Collie!&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;you were wiser
+      than I was. You as good as told me he would make me smart for lodging and
+      curing him. And I was SO happy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dale communicated this as delicately as he could to Staines. Christopher
+      was deeply grieved and wounded. He thought it unjust, but he knew it was
+      natural: he said, humbly, &ldquo;I feel guilty myself, Mr. Dale; and yet, unless
+      I had possessed omniscience, what could I do? I thought of her in all&mdash;poor
+      thing! poor thing!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The tears were in his eyes, and Dick Dale went away scratching his head
+      and thinking it over. The more he thought, the less he was inclined to
+      condemn him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines himself was much troubled in mind, and lived on thorns. He wanted
+      to be off to England; grudged every day, every hour, he spent in Africa.
+      But Mrs. Falcon was his benefactress; he had been, for months and months,
+      garnering up a heap of gratitude towards her. He had not the heart to
+      leave her bad friends, and in misery. He kept hoping Falcon would return,
+      or write.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Two days after his return, he was seated, disconsolate, gluing garnets and
+      carbuncles on to a broad tapering bit of lambskin, when Ucatella came to
+      him and said, &ldquo;My doctor child sick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not sick: but miserable.&rdquo; And he explained to her, as well as he
+      could, what had passed. &ldquo;But,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I would not mind the loss of the
+      diamonds now, if I was only sure he was alive. I think most of poor, poor
+      Mrs. Falcon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While Ucatella pondered this, but with one eye of demure curiosity on the
+      coronet he was making, he told her it was for her&mdash;he had not forgot
+      her at the mines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;These stones,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;are not valued there; but see how glorious they
+      are!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In a few minutes he had finished the coronet, and gave it her. She uttered
+      a chuckle of delight, and with instinctive art, bound it, in a turn of her
+      hand, about her brow; and then Staines himself was struck dumb with
+      amazement. The carbuncles gathered from those mines look like rubies, so
+      full of fire are they, and of enormous size. The chaplet had twelve great
+      carbuncles in the centre, and went off by gradations into smaller garnets
+      by the thousand. They flashed their blood-red flames in the African sun,
+      and the head of Ucatella, grand before, became the head of the Sphinx,
+      encircled with a coronet of fire. She bestowed a look of rapturous
+      gratitude on Staines, and then glided away, like the stately Juno, to
+      admire herself in the nearest glass like any other coquette, black, brown,
+      yellow, copper, or white.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That very day, towards sunset, she burst upon Staines quite suddenly, with
+      her coronet gleaming on her magnificent head, and her eyes like coals of
+      fire, and under her magnificent arm, hard as a rock, a boy kicking and
+      struggling in vain. She was furiously excited, and, for the first time,
+      showed signs of the savage in the whites of her eyes, which seemed to turn
+      the glorious pupils into semicircles. She clutched Staines by the shoulder
+      with her left hand, and swept along with the pair, like dark Fate, or as
+      potent justice sweeps away a pair of culprits, and carried them to the
+      little window, and cried &ldquo;Open&mdash;open!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dick Dale was at dinner; Phoebe lying down. Dick got up, rather crossly,
+      and threw open the window. &ldquo;What is up now?&rdquo; said he crossly: he was like
+      two or three more Englishmen&mdash;hated to be bothered at dinner-time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dar,&rdquo; screamed Ucatella, setting down Tim, but holding him tight by the
+      shoulder; &ldquo;now you tell what you see that night, you lilly Kafir trash; if
+      you not tell, I kill you DEAD;&rdquo; and she showed the whites of her eyes,
+      like a wild beast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Tim, thoroughly alarmed, quivered out that he had seen lilly master ride
+      up to the gate one bright night, and look in, and Tim thought he was going
+      in: but he changed his mind, and galloped away that way; and the monkey
+      pointed south.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And why couldn't you tell us this before?&rdquo; questioned Dick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me mind de sheep,&rdquo; said Tim apologetically. &ldquo;Me not mind de lilly master:
+      jackals not eat him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You no more sense dan a sheep yourself,&rdquo; said Ucatella loftily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no: God bless you both,&rdquo; cried poor Phoebe: &ldquo;now I know the worst:&rdquo;
+       and a great burst of tears relieved her suffering heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dick went out softly. When he got outside the door, he drew them all
+      apart, and said, &ldquo;Yuke, you ARE a good-hearted girl. I'll never forget
+      this while I live; and, Tim, there's a shilling for thee; but don't you go
+      and spend it in Cape smoke; that is poison to whites, and destruction to
+      blacks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, master,&rdquo; said Tim. &ldquo;I shall buy much bread, and make my tomach tiff;&rdquo;
+       then, with a glance of reproach at the domestic caterer, Ucatella, &ldquo;I
+      almost never have my tomach tiff.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dick left his sister alone an hour or two, to have her cry out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he went back to her there was a change: the brave woman no longer lay
+      prostrate. She went about her business; only she was always either crying
+      or drowning her tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He brought Dr. Staines in. Phoebe instantly turned her back on him with a
+      shudder there was no mistaking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had better go,&rdquo; said Staines. &ldquo;Mrs. Falcon will never forgive me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She will have to quarrel with me else,&rdquo; said Dick steadily. &ldquo;Sit you
+      down, doctor. Honest folk like you and me and Phoebe wasn't made to
+      quarrel for want of looking a thing all round. My sister she hasn't looked
+      it all round, and I have. Come, Pheeb, 'tis no use your blinding yourself.
+      How was the poor doctor to know your husband is a blackguard?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is not a blackguard. How dare you say that to my face?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is a blackguard, and always was. And now he is a thief to boot. He has
+      stolen those diamonds; you know that very well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gently, Mr. Dale; you forget: they are as much his as mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, and if half a sheep is mine, and I take the whole and sell him, and
+      keep the money, what is that but stealing? Why, I wonder at you, Pheeb.
+      You was always honest yourself, and yet you see the doctor robbed by your
+      man, and that does not trouble you. What has he done to deserve it? He has
+      been a good friend to us. He has put us on the road. We did little more
+      than keep the pot boiling before he came&mdash;well, yes, we stored grain;
+      but whose advice has turned that grain to gold, I might say? Well, what's
+      his offence? He trusted the diamonds to your man, and sent him to you. Is
+      he the first honest man that has trusted a rogue? How was he to know?
+      Likely he judged the husband by the wife. Answer me one thing, Pheeb. If
+      he makes away with fifteen hundred pounds that is his, or partly yours&mdash;for
+      he has eaten your bread ever since I knew him&mdash;and fifteen hundred
+      more that is the doctor's, where shall we find fifteen hundred pounds, all
+      in a moment, to pay the doctor back his own?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My honest friend,&rdquo; said Staines, &ldquo;you are tormenting yourself with
+      shadows. I don't believe Mr. Falcon will wrong me of a shilling; and, if
+      he does, I shall quietly repay myself out of the big diamond. Yes, my dear
+      friends, I did not throw away your horse, nor your rifle, nor your money:
+      I gave them all, and the lion's skin&mdash;I gave them all&mdash;for
+      this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And he laid the big diamond on the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was as big as a walnut, and of the purest water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dick Dale glanced at it stupidly. Phoebe turned her back on it, with a cry
+      of horror, and then came slowly round by degrees; and her eyes were
+      fascinated by the royal gem.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Staines sadly, &ldquo;I had to strip myself of all to buy it, and,
+      when I had got it, how proud I was, and how happy I thought we should all
+      be over it, for it is half yours, half mine. Yes, Mr. Dale, there lies six
+      thousand pounds that belong to Mrs. Falcon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Six thousand pounds!&rdquo; cried Dick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm sure of it. And so, if your suspicions are correct, and poor Falcon
+      should yield to a sudden temptation, and spend all that money, I shall
+      just coolly deduct it from your share of this wonderful stone: so make
+      your mind easy. But no; if Falcon is really so wicked as to desert his
+      happy home, and so mad as to spend thousands in a month or two, let us go
+      and save him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is my business,&rdquo; said Phoebe. &ldquo;I am going in the mail-cart
+      to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you won't go alone,&rdquo; said Dick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Falcon,&rdquo; said Staines imploringly, &ldquo;let me go with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, sir. My brother can take care of me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me! You had better not take me. If I catch hold of him, by &mdash;- I'll
+      break his neck, or his back, or his leg, or something; he'll never run
+      away from you again, if I lay hands on him,&rdquo; replied Dick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll go alone. You are both against me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Mrs. Falcon; I am not,&rdquo; said Staines. &ldquo;My heart bleeds for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you demean yourself, praying her,&rdquo; said Dick. &ldquo;It's a public
+      conveyance: you have no need to ask HER leave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true: I can't hinder folk from going to Cape Town the same day,&rdquo;
+       said Phoebe sullenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I might presume to advise, I would take little Tommy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! all that road? Do you want me to lose my child, as well as my man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O Mrs. Falcon!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't speak to her, doctor, to get your nose snapped off. Give her time.
+      She'll come to her senses before she dies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day Mrs. Falcon and Staines started for Cape Town. Staines paid her
+      every attention, when opportunity offered. But she was sullen and gloomy,
+      and held no converse with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He landed her at an inn, and then told her he would go at once to the
+      jeweller's. He asked her piteously would she lend him a pound or two to
+      prosecute his researches. She took out her purse, without a word, and lent
+      him two pounds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He began to scour the town: the jewellers he visited could tell him
+      nothing. At last he came to a shop, and there he found Mrs. Falcon making
+      her inquiries independently. She said coldly, &ldquo;You had better come with
+      me, and get your money and things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She took him to the bank&mdash;it happened to be the one she did business
+      with&mdash;and said, &ldquo;This is Dr. Christie, come for his money and
+      jewels.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was some demur at this; but the cashier recognized him, and Phoebe
+      making herself responsible, the money and jewels were handed over.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines whispered Phoebe, &ldquo;Are you sure the jewels are mine?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They were found on you, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines took them, looking confused. He did not know what to think. When
+      they got into the street again, he told her it was very kind of her to
+      think of his interest at all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No answer: she was not going to make friends with him over such a trifle
+      as that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By degrees, however, Christopher's zeal on her behalf broke the ice; and
+      besides, as the search proved unavailing, she needed sympathy; and he gave
+      it her, and did not abuse her husband as Dick Dale did.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day, in the street, after a long thought, she said to him, &ldquo;Didn't you
+      say, sir, you gave him a letter for me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I gave him two letters; one of them was to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Could you remember what you said in it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perfectly. I begged you, if you should go to England, to break the truth
+      to my wife. She is very excitable; and sudden joy has killed ere now. I
+      gave you particular instructions.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you were very wise. But whatever could make you think I would go to
+      England?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He told me you only wanted an excuse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When he told me that, I caught at it, of course. It was all the world to
+      me to get my Rosa told by such a kind, good, sensible friend as you; and,
+      Mrs. Falcon, I had no scruple about troubling you, because I knew the
+      stones would sell for at least a thousand pounds more in England than
+      here, and that would pay your expenses.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see, sir; I see. 'Twas very natural: you love your wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Better than my life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And he told you I only wanted an excuse to go to England?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He did, indeed. It was not true?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was anything but true. I had suffered so in England; I had been so
+      happy here: too happy to last. Ah! well, it is all over. Let us think of
+      the matter in hand. Sure that was not the only letter you gave my husband?
+      Didn't you write to HER?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I did; but that was enclosed to you, and not to be given to her
+      until you had broken the joyful news to her. Yes, Mrs. Falcon, I wrote and
+      told her everything: my loss at sea; how I was saved, after, by your
+      kindness. Our journeys, from Cape Town, and then to the diggings; my
+      sudden good fortune, my hopes, my joy&mdash;O my poor Rosa! and now I
+      suppose she will never get it. It is too cruel of him. I shall go home by
+      the next steamer. I CAN'T stay here any longer, for you or anybody. Oh,
+      and I enclosed my ruby ring that she gave me, for I thought she might not
+      believe you without that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me think,&rdquo; said Phoebe, turning ashy pale. &ldquo;For mercy's sake, let me
+      think!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has read both those letters, sir.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She will never see hers: any more than I shall see mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She paused again, thinking harder and harder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must take two places in the next mail steamer. I must look after my
+      husband, AND YOU AFTER YOUR WIFE.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXV.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Falcon's bitter feeling against Dr. Staines did not subside; it
+      merely went out of sight a little. They were thrown together by potent
+      circumstances, and in a manner connected by mutual obligations; so an open
+      rupture seemed too unnatural. Still Phoebe was a woman, and, blinded by
+      her love for her husband, could not forgive the innocent cause of their
+      present unhappy separation; though the fault lay entirely with Falcon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines took her on board the steamer, and paid her every attention. She
+      was also civil to him; but it was a cold and constrained civility.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      About a hundred miles from land the steamer stopped, and the passengers
+      soon learned there was something wrong with her machinery. In fact, after
+      due consultation, the captain decided to put back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This irritated and distressed Mrs. Falcon so that the captain, desirous to
+      oblige her, hailed a fast schooner, that tacked across her bows, and gave
+      Mrs. Falcon the option of going back with him, or going on in the
+      schooner, with whose skipper he was acquainted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines advised her on no account to trust to sails, when she could have
+      steam with only a delay of four or five days; but she said, &ldquo;Anything
+      sooner than go back. I can't, I can't on such an errand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Accordingly she was put on board the schooner, and Staines, after some
+      hesitation, felt bound to accompany her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It proved a sad error. Contrary winds assailed them the very next day, and
+      with such severity that they had repeatedly to lie to.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On one of these occasions, with a ship reeling under them like a restive
+      horse, and the waves running mountains high, poor Phoebe's terrors
+      overmastered both her hostility and her reserve. &ldquo;Doctor,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I
+      believe 'tis God's will we shall never see England. I must try and die
+      more like a Christian than I have lived, forgiving all who have wronged
+      me, and you, that have been my good friend and my worst enemy, but you did
+      not mean it. Sir, what has turned me against you so&mdash;your wife was my
+      husband's sweetheart before he married me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My wife your husband's&mdash;you are dreaming.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, sir, once she came to my shop, and I saw directly I was nothing to
+      him, and he owned it all to me; he had courted her, and she jilted him; so
+      he said. Why should he tell me a lie about that? I'd lay my life 'tis
+      true. And now you have sent him to her your own self; and, at sight of
+      her, I shall be nothing again. Well, when this ship goes down, they can
+      marry, and I hope he will be happy, happier than I can make him, that
+      tried my best, God knows.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This conversation surprised Staines not a little. However, he said, with
+      great warmth, it was false. His wife had danced and flirted with some
+      young gentleman at one time, when there was a brief misunderstanding
+      between him and her, but sweetheart she had never had, except him. He
+      courted her fresh from school. &ldquo;Now, my good soul,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;make your
+      mind easy; the ship is a good one, and well handled, and in no danger
+      whatever, and my wife is in no danger from your husband. Since you and
+      your brother tell me that he is a villain, I am bound to believe you. But
+      my wife is an angel. In our miserable hour of parting, she vowed not to
+      marry again, should I be taken from her. Marry again! what am I talking
+      of? Why, if he visits her at all, it will be to let her know I am alive,
+      and give her my letter. Do you mean to tell me she will listen to vows of
+      love from him, when her whole heart is in rapture for me? Such nonsense!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This burst of his did not affront her, and did not comfort her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last the wind abated; and after a wearisome calm, a light breeze came,
+      and the schooner crept homeward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe restrained herself for several days; but at last she came back to
+      the subject; this time it was in an apologetic tone at starting. &ldquo;I know
+      you think me a foolish woman,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;but my poor Reginald could never
+      resist a pretty face; and she is so lovely; and you should have seen how
+      he turned when she came in to my place. Oh, sir, there has been more
+      between them than you know of; and when I think that he will have been in
+      England so many months before we get there, oh, doctor, sometimes I feel
+      as I should go mad; my head it is like a furnace, and see, my brow is all
+      wrinkled again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Staines tried to comfort her; assured her she was tormenting herself
+      idly; her husband would perhaps have spent some of the diamond money on
+      his amusement; but what if he had? he should deduct it out of the big
+      diamond, which was also their joint property, and the loss would hardly be
+      felt. &ldquo;As to my wife, madam, I have but one anxiety; lest he should go
+      blurting it out that I am alive, and almost kill her with joy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He will not do that, sir. He is no fool.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad of it; for there is nothing else to fear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Man, I tell you there is everything to fear. You don't know him as I do;
+      nor his power over women.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Falcon, are you bent on affronting me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir; Heaven forbid!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then please to close this subject forever. In three weeks we shall be in
+      England.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay; but he has been there six months.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He bowed stiffly to her, went to his cabin, and avoided the poor foolish
+      woman as much as he could without seeming too unkind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVI.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Staines made one or two movements&mdash;to stop Lord Tadcaster&mdash;with
+      her hand, that expressive feature with which, at such times, a sensitive
+      woman can do all but speak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When at last he paused for her reply, she said, &ldquo;Me marry again! Oh! for
+      shame!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Staines&mdash;Rosa&mdash;you will marry again, some day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never. Me take another husband, after such a man as I have lost! I should
+      be a monster. Oh, Lord Tadcaster, you have been so kind to me; so
+      sympathizing. You made me believe you loved my Christopher, too; and now
+      you have spoiled all. It is too cruel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Mrs. Staines, do you think me capable of feigning&mdash;don't you see
+      my love for you has taken you by surprise? But how could I visit you&mdash;look
+      on you&mdash;hear you&mdash;mingle my regrets with yours; yours were the
+      deepest, of course; but mine were honest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe it.&rdquo; And she gave him her hand. He held it, and kissed it, and
+      cried over it, as the young will, and implored her, on his knees, not to
+      condemn herself to life-long widowhood, and him to despair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she cried, too; but she was firm; and by degrees she made him see
+      that her heart was inaccessible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then at last he submitted with tearful eyes, but a valiant heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She offered friendship timidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But he was too much of a man to fall into that trap. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said: &ldquo;I
+      could not, I could not. Love or nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are right,&rdquo; said she, pityingly. &ldquo;Forgive me. In my selfishness and
+      my usual folly, I did not see this coming on, or I would have spared you
+      this mortification.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind that,&rdquo; gulped the little earl. &ldquo;I shall always be proud I knew
+      you, and proud I loved you, and offered you my hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the magnanimous little fellow blessed her, and left her, and
+      discontinued his visits.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Lusignan found her crying, and got the truth out of her. He was in
+      despair. He remonstrated kindly, but firmly. Truth compels me to say that
+      she politely ignored him. He observed that phenomenon, and said, &ldquo;Very
+      well then, I shall telegraph for Uncle Philip.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do,&rdquo; said the rebel. &ldquo;He is always welcome.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Philip, telegraphed, came down that evening; likewise his little black
+      bag. He found them in the drawing-room: papa with the Pall Mall Gazette,
+      Rosa seated, sewing, at a lamp. She made little Christie's clothes
+      herself,&mdash;fancy that!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Having ascertained that the little boy was well, Philip, adroitly hiding
+      that he had come down torn with anxiety on that head, inquired with a show
+      of contemptuous indifference, whose cat was dead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody's,&rdquo; said Lusignan crossly. Then he turned and pointed the Gazette
+      at his offspring. &ldquo;Do you see that young lady stitching there so
+      demurely?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Philip carefully wiped and then put on his spectacles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see her,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;She does look a little too innocent. None of them
+      are really so innocent as all that. Has she been swearing at the nurse,
+      and boxing her ears?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Worse than that. She has been and refused the Earl of Tadcaster.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Refused him&mdash;what! has that little monkey had the audacity?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The condescension, you mean. Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And she has refused him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And twenty thousand a year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What immorality!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Worse. What absurdity!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How is it to be accounted for? Is it the old story? 'I could never love
+      him.' No; that's inadequate; for they all love a title and twenty thousand
+      a year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa sewed on all this time in demure and absolute silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She ignores us,&rdquo; said Philip. &ldquo;It is intolerable. She does not appreciate
+      our politeness in talking at her. Let us arraign her before our sacred
+      tribunal, and have her into court. Now, mistress, the Senate of Venice is
+      assembled, and you must be pleased to tell us why you refused a title and
+      twenty thousand a year, with a small but symmetrical earl tacked on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa laid down her work, and said quietly, &ldquo;Uncle, almost the last words
+      that passed between me and my Christopher, we promised each other solemnly
+      never to marry again till death should us part. You know how deep my
+      sorrow has been that I can find so few wishes of my lost Christopher to
+      obey. Well, to-day I have had an opportunity at last. I have obeyed my own
+      lost one; it has cost me a tear or two; but, for all that, it has given me
+      one little gleam of happiness. Ah, foolish woman, that obeys too late!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And with this the tears began to run.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All this seemed a little too high-flown to Mr. Lusignan. &ldquo;There,&rdquo; said he,
+      &ldquo;see on what a straw her mind turns. So, but for that, you would have done
+      the right thing, and married the earl?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dare say I should&mdash;at the time&mdash;to stop his crying.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And with this listless remark she quietly took up her sewing again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sagacious Philip looked at her gravely. He thought to himself how
+      piteous it was to see so young and lovely a creature, that had given up
+      all hope of happiness for herself. These being his real thoughts, he
+      expressed himself as follows: &ldquo;We had better drop this subject, sir. This
+      young lady will take us potent, grave, and reverend seignors out of our
+      depth, if we don't mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the moment he got her alone he kissed her paternally, and said, &ldquo;Rosa,
+      it is not lost on me, your fidelity to the dead. As years roll on, and
+      your deep wound first closes, then skins, then heals&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, let me die first&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Time and nature will absolve you from that vow; but bless you for
+      thinking this can never be. Rosa, your folly of this day has made you my
+      heir; so never let money tempt you, for you have enough, and will have
+      more than enough when I go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was as good as his word; altered his will next day, and made Rosa his
+      residuary legatee. When he had done this, foreseeing no fresh occasion for
+      his services, he prepared for a long visit to Italy. He was packing up his
+      things to go there, when he received a line from Lady Cicely Treherne,
+      asking him to call on her professionally. As the lady's servant brought
+      it, he sent back a line to say he no longer practised medicine, but would
+      call on her as a friend in an hour's time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He found her reclining, the picture of lassitude. &ldquo;How good of you to
+      come,&rdquo; she drawled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the matter?&rdquo; said he brusquely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish to cawnsult you about myself. I think if anybody can brighten me
+      up, it is you. I feel such a languaw&mdash;such a want of spirit; and I
+      get palaa, and that is not desiwable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He examined her tongue and the white of her eye, and told her, in his
+      blunt way, she ate and drank too much.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excuse me, sir,&rdquo; said she stiffly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean too often. Now, let's see. Cup of tea in bed, of a morning?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yaas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dinner at two?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We call it luncheon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you a ventriloquist?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then it is only your lips call it luncheon. Your poor stomach, could it
+      speak, would call it dinner. Afternoon tea?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yaas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At seven-thirty another dinner. Tea after that. Your afflicted stomach
+      gets no rest. You eat pastry?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I confess it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And sugar in a dozen forms?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sugar is poison to your temperament. Now I'll set you up, if you
+      can obey. Give up your morning dram.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What dwam?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tea in bed, before eating. Can't you see that is a dram? Animal food
+      twice a day. No wine but a little claret and water; no pastry, no sweets,
+      and play battledore with one of your male subjects.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Battledaw! won't a lady do for that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No: you would get talking, and not play ad sudorem.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ad sudawem! what is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In earnest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And will sudawem and the west put me in better spiwits, and give me a
+      tinge?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will incarnadine the lily, and make you the happiest young lady in
+      England, as you are the best.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like to be much happier than I am good, if we could manage it
+      among us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We will manage it AMONG us; for if the diet allowed should not make you
+      boisterously gay, I have a remedy behind, suited to your temperament. I am
+      old-fashioned, and believe in the temperaments.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what is that wemedy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Try diet, and hard exercise, first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes; but let me know that wemedy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I warn you it is what we call in medicine an heroic one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind. I am despewate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, the heroic remedy&mdash;to be used only as a desperate
+      resort, mind&mdash;you must marry an Irishman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This took the lady's breath away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mawwy a nice man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A nice man; no. That means a fool. Marry scientifically&mdash;a
+      precaution eternally neglected. Marry a Hibernian gentleman, a being as
+      mercurial as you are lymphatic.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mercurial!&mdash;lymphatic!&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, hard words break no bones, ma'am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir. And it is very curious. No, I won't tell you. Yes, I will. Hem I&mdash;I
+      think I have noticed one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One Iwishman&mdash;dangling after me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then your ladyship has only to tighten the cord&mdash;and HE'S done for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Having administered this prescription, our laughing philosopher went off
+      to Italy, and there fell in with some countrymen to his mind, so he
+      accompanied them to Egypt and Palestine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His absence, and Lord Tadcaster's, made Rosa Staines's life extremely
+      monotonous. Day followed day, and week followed week, each so unvarying,
+      that, on a retrospect, three months seemed like one day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And I think at last youth and nature began to rebel, and secretly to crave
+      some little change or incident to ruffle the stagnant pool. Yet she would
+      not go into society, and would only receive two or three dull people at
+      the villa; so she made the very monotony which was beginning to tire her,
+      and nursed a sacred grief she had no need to nurse, it was so truly
+      genuine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was in this forlorn condition, when, one morning, a carriage drove to
+      the door, and a card was brought up to her&mdash;&ldquo;Mr. Reginald Falcon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon's history, between this and our last advices, is soon disposed of.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When, after a little struggle with his better angel, he rode past his
+      wife's gate, he intended, at first, only to go to Cape Town, sell the
+      diamonds, have a lark, and bring home the balance: but, as he rode south,
+      his views expanded. He could have ten times the fun in London, and
+      cheaper; since he could sell the diamonds for more money, and also conceal
+      the true price. This was the Bohemian's whole mind in the business. He had
+      no designs whatever on Mrs. Staines, nor did he intend to steal the
+      diamonds, but to embezzle a portion of the purchase-money, and enjoy the
+      pleasures and vices of the capital for a few months; then back to his
+      milch cow, Phoebe, and lead a quiet life till the next uncontrollable fit
+      should come upon him along with the means of satisfying it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the way, he read Staines's letter to Mrs. Falcon, very carefully. He
+      never broke the seal of the letter to Mrs. Staines. That was to be given
+      her when he had broken the good news to her; and this he determined to do
+      with such skill, as should make Dr. Staines very unwilling to look
+      suspiciously or ill-naturedly into money accounts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He reached London; and being a thorough egotist, attended first to his own
+      interests; he never went near Mrs. Staines until he had visited every
+      diamond merchant and dealer in the metropolis; he showed the small stones
+      to them all but he showed no more than one large stone to each.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last he got an offer of twelve hundred pounds for the small stones, and
+      the same for the large yellow stone, and nine hundred pounds for the
+      second largest stone. He took this nine hundred pounds, and instantly
+      wrote to Phoebe, telling her he had a sudden inspiration to bring the
+      diamonds to England, which he could not regret, since he had never done a
+      wiser thing. He had sold a single stone for eight hundred pounds, and had
+      sent the doctor's four hundred pounds to her account in Cape Town; and as
+      each sale was effected, the half would be so remitted. She would see by
+      that, he was wiser than in former days. He should only stay so long as
+      might be necessary to sell them all equally well. His own share he would
+      apply to paying off mortgages on the family estate, of which he hoped some
+      day to see her the mistress, or he would send it direct to her, whichever
+      she might prefer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now the main object of this artful letter was to keep Phoebe quiet, and
+      not have her coming after him, of which he felt she was very capable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The money got safe to Cape Town, but the letter to Phoebe miscarried. How
+      this happened was never positively known; but the servant of the
+      lodging-house was afterwards detected cutting stamps off a letter; so
+      perhaps she had played that game on this occasion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By this means, matters took a curious turn. Falcon, intending to lull his
+      wife into a false security, lulled himself into that state instead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he had taken care of himself, and got five hundred pounds to play the
+      fool with, then he condescended to remember his errand of mercy; and he
+      came down to Gravesend, to see Mrs. Staines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the road, he gave his mind seriously to the delicate and dangerous
+      task. It did not, however, disquiet him as it would you, sir, or you,
+      madam. He had a great advantage over you. He was a liar&mdash;a smooth,
+      ready, accomplished liar&mdash;and he knew it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was the outline he had traced in his mind: he should appear very
+      subdued and sad; should wear an air of condolence. But, after a while,
+      should say, &ldquo;And yet men have been lost like that, and escaped. A man was
+      picked up on a raft in those very latitudes, and brought into Cape Town. A
+      friend of mine saw him, months after, at the hospital. His memory was
+      shaken&mdash;could not tell his name; but in other respects he was all
+      right again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      If Mrs. Staines took fire at this, he would say his friend knew all the
+      particulars, and he would ask him, and so leave that to rankle till next
+      visit. And having planted his germ of hope, he would grow it, and water
+      it, by visits and correspondence, till he could throw off the mask, and
+      say he was convinced Staines was alive: and from that, by other degrees,
+      till he could say, on his wife's authority, that the man picked up at sea,
+      and cured at her house, was the very physician who had saved her brother's
+      life: and so on to the overwhelming proof he carried in the ruby ring and
+      the letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I am afraid the cunning and dexterity, the subtlety and tact required,
+      interested him more in the commission than did the benevolence. He called,
+      sent up his card, and composed his countenance for his part, like an actor
+      at the Wing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stared with amazement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The history of a &ldquo;Not at home&rdquo; is not, in general, worth recording: but
+      this is an exception.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On receiving Falcon's card, Mrs. Staines gave a little start, and colored
+      faintly. She instantly resolved not to see him. What! the man she had
+      flirted with, almost jilted, and refused to marry&mdash;he dared to be
+      alive when her Christopher was dead, and had come there to show her HE was
+      alive!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She said &ldquo;Not at home&rdquo; with a tone of unusual sharpness and decision,
+      which left the servant in no doubt he must be equally decided at the hall
+      door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon received the sudden freezer with amazement. &ldquo;Nonsense,&rdquo; said he.
+      &ldquo;Not at home at this time of the morning&mdash;to an old friend!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at home,&rdquo; said the man doggedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, very well,&rdquo; said Falcon with a bitter sneer, and returned to London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He felt sure she was at home; and being a tremendous egotist, he said,
+      &ldquo;Oh! all right. If she would rather not know her husband is alive, it is
+      all one to me;&rdquo; and he actually took no more notice of her for a full
+      week, and never thought of her, except to chuckle over the penalty she was
+      paying for daring to affront his vanity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, Sunday came; he saw a dull day before him, and so he relented,
+      and thought he would give her another trial.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went down to Gravesend by boat, and strolled towards the villa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he was about a hundred yards from the villa, a lady, all in black,
+      came out with a nurse and child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon knew her figure all that way off, and it gave him a curious thrill
+      that surprised him. He followed her, and was not very far behind her when
+      she reached the church. She turned at the porch, kissed the child
+      earnestly, and gave the nurse some directions; then entered the church.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said Falcon, &ldquo;I'll have a look at her, any way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went into the church, and walked up a side aisle to a pillar, from
+      which he thought he might be able to see the whole congregation; and, sure
+      enough, there she sat, a few yards from him. She was lovelier than ever.
+      Mind had grown on her face with trouble. An angelic expression illuminated
+      her beauty; he gazed on her, fascinated. He drank and drank her beauty two
+      mortal hours, and when the church broke up, and she went home, he was half
+      afraid to follow her, for he felt how hard it would be to say anything to
+      her but that the old love had returned on him with double force.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, having watched her home, he walked slowly to and fro composing
+      himself for the interview.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He now determined to make the process of informing her a very long one: he
+      would spin it out, and so secure many a sweet interview with her: and, who
+      knows? he might fascinate her as she had him, and ripen gratitude into
+      love, as he understood that word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He called, he sent in his card. The man went in, and came back with a
+      sonorous &ldquo;Not at home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at home? nonsense. Why, she is just come in from church.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at home,&rdquo; said the man, evidently strong in his instructions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon turned white with rage at this second affront. &ldquo;All the worse for
+      her,&rdquo; said he, and turned on his heel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went home, raging with disappointment and wounded vanity, and&mdash;since
+      such love as his is seldom very far from hate&mdash;he swore she should
+      never know from him that her husband was alive. He even moralized. &ldquo;This
+      comes of being so unselfish,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I'll give that game up forever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      By and by, a mere negative revenge was not enough for him, and he set his
+      wits to work to make her smart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He wrote to her from his lodgings:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      DEAR MADAM,&mdash;What a pity you are never at home to me. I had something
+      to say about your husband, that I thought might interest you.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yours truly,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      R. FALCON.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Imagine the effect of this abominable note. It was like a rock flung into
+      a placid pool. It set Rosa trembling all over. What could he mean?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She ran with it to her father, and asked him what Mr. Falcon could mean.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no idea,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;You had better ask him, not me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid it is only to get to see me. You know he admired me once. Ah,
+      how suspicious I am getting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa wrote to Falcon:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      DEAR SIR,&mdash;Since my bereavement I see scarcely anybody. My servant
+      did not know you; so I hope you will excuse me. If it is too much trouble
+      to call again, would you kindly explain your note to me?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yours respectfully,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      ROSA STAINES.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon chuckled bitterly over this. &ldquo;No, my lady,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I'll serve
+      you out. You shall run after me like a little dog. I have got the bone
+      that will draw you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He wrote back coldly to say that the matter he had wished to communicate
+      was too delicate and important to put on paper; that he would try and get
+      down to Gravesend again some day or other, but was much occupied, and had
+      already put himself to inconvenience. He added, in a postscript, that he
+      was always at home from four to five.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day he got hold of the servant, and gave her minute instructions, and
+      a guinea.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the wretch got some tools and bored a hole in the partition wall of
+      his sitting-room. The paper had large flowers. He was artist enough to
+      conceal the trick with water-colors. In his bed-room the hole came behind
+      the curtains.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That very afternoon, as he had foreseen, Mrs. Staines called on him. The
+      maid, duly instructed, said Mr. Falcon was out, but would soon return, and
+      could she wait his return? The maid being so very civil, Mrs. Staines said
+      she would wait a little while, and was immediately ushered into Falcon's
+      sitting-room. There she sat down; but was evidently ill at ease, restless,
+      flushed. She could not sit quiet, and at last began to walk up and down
+      the room, almost wildly. Her beautiful eyes glittered, and the whole woman
+      seemed on fire. The caitiff, who was watching her, saw and gloated on all
+      this, and enjoyed to the full her beauty and agitation, and his revenge
+      for her &ldquo;Not at homes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But after a long time, there was a reaction: she sat down and uttered some
+      plaintive sounds inarticulate, or nearly; and at last she began to cry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then it cost Falcon an effort not to come in and comfort her; but he
+      controlled himself and kept quiet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She rang the bell. She asked for writing paper, and she wrote her unseen
+      tormentor a humble note, begging him, for old acquaintance, to call on
+      her, and tell her what his mysterious words meant that had filled her with
+      agitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This done, she went away, with a deep sigh, and Falcon emerged, and
+      pounced upon her letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He kissed it; he read it a dozen times: he sat down where she had sat, and
+      his base passion overpowered him. Her beauty, her agitation, her fear, her
+      tears, all combined to madden him, and do the devil's work in his false,
+      selfish heart, so open to violent passions, so dead to conscience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For once in his life he was violently agitated, and torn by conflicting
+      feelings: he walked about the room more wildly than his victim had; and if
+      it be true that, in certain great temptations, good and bad angels fight
+      for a man, here you might have seen as fierce a battle of that kind as
+      ever was.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last he rushed out into the air, and did not return till ten o'clock at
+      night. He came back pale and haggard, and with a look of crime upon his
+      face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      True Bohemian as he was, he sent for a pint of brandy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So then the die was cast, and something was to be done that called for
+      brandy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He bolted himself in, and drank a wine-glass of it neat; then another;
+      then another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now his pale cheek is flushed, and his eye glitters. Drink forever! great
+      ruin of English souls as well as bodies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He put the poker in the fire, and heated it red hot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He brought Staines's letter, and softened the sealing-wax with the hot
+      poker; then with his pen-knife made a neat incision in the wax, and opened
+      the letter. He took out the ring, and put it carefully away. Then he
+      lighted a cigar, and read the letter, and studied it. Many a man, capable
+      of murder in heat of passion, could not have resisted the pathos of this
+      letter. Many a Newgate thief, after reading it, would have felt such pity
+      for the loving husband who had suffered to the verge of death, and then to
+      the brink of madness, and for the poor bereaved wife, that he would have
+      taken the letter down to Gravesend that very night, though he picked two
+      fresh pockets to defray the expenses of the road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But this was an egotist. Good nature had curbed his egotism a little
+      while; but now vanity and passion had swept away all unselfish feelings,
+      and the pure egotist alone remained.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, the pure egotist has been defined as a man who will burn down his
+      NEIGHBOR'S house to cook HIMSELF an egg. Murder is but egotism carried out
+      to its natural climax. What is murder to a pure egotist, especially a
+      brandied one?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I knew an egotist who met a female acquaintance in Newhaven village. She
+      had a one-pound note, and offered to treat him. She changed this note to
+      treat him. Fish she gave him, and much whiskey. Cost her four shillings.
+      He ate and drank with her, at her expense; and his aorta, or principal
+      blood-vessel, being warmed with her whiskey, he murdered her for the
+      change, the odd sixteen shillings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I had the pleasure of seeing that egotist hung, with these eyes. It was a
+      slice of luck that, I grieve to say, has not occurred again to me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So much for a whiskied egotist.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His less truculent but equally remorseless brother in villany, the
+      brandied egotist, Falcon, could read that poor husband's letter without
+      blenching; the love and the anticipations of rapture, these made him
+      writhe a little with jealousy, but they roused not a grain of pity. He was
+      a true egotist, blind, remorseless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this, his true character, he studied the letter profoundly, and
+      mastered all the facts, and digested them well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All manner of diabolical artifices presented themselves to his brain,
+      barren of true intellect, yet fertile in fraud; in that, and all low
+      cunning and subtlety, far more than a match for Solomon or Bacon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His sinister studies were pursued far into the night. Then he went to bed,
+      and his unbounded egotism gave him the sleep a grander criminal would have
+      courted in vain on the verge of a monstrous and deliberate crime.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day he went to a fashionable tailor, and ordered a complete suit of
+      black. This was made in forty-eight hours; the interval was spent mainly
+      in concocting lies to be incorporated with the number of minute facts he
+      had gained from Staines's letter, and in making close imitations of his
+      handwriting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus armed, and crammed with more lies than the &ldquo;Menteur&rdquo; of Corneille,
+      but not such innocent ones, he went down to Gravesend, all in deep
+      mourning, with crape round his hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He presented himself at the villa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The servant was all obsequiousness. Yes, Mrs. Staines received few
+      visitors; but she was at home to HIM. He even began to falter excuses.
+      &ldquo;Nonsense,&rdquo; said Falcon, and slipped a sovereign into his hand; &ldquo;you are a
+      good servant, and obey orders.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The servant's respect doubled, and he ushered the visitor into the
+      drawing-room, as one whose name was a passport. &ldquo;Mr. Reginald Falcon,
+      madam.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Staines was alone. She rose to meet him. Her color came and went, her
+      full eye fell on him, and took in all at a glance&mdash;that he was all in
+      black, and that he had a beard, and looked pale, and ill at ease.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Little dreaming that this was the anxiety of a felon about to take the
+      actual plunge into a novel crime, she was rather prepossessed by it. The
+      beard gave him dignity, and hid his mean, cruel mouth. His black suit
+      seemed to say he, too, had lost some one dear to him; and that was a
+      ground of sympathy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She received him kindly, and thanked him for taking the trouble to come
+      again. She begged him to be seated; and then, womanlike, she waited for
+      him to explain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But he was in no hurry, and waited for her. He knew she would speak if he
+      was silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She could not keep him waiting long. &ldquo;Mr. Falcon,&rdquo; said she, hesitating a
+      little, &ldquo;you have something to say to me about him I have lost.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said he softly. &ldquo;I have something I could say, and I think I ought
+      to say it; but I am afraid: because I don't know what will be the result.
+      I fear to make you more unhappy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me! more unhappy? Me, whose dear husband lies at the bottom of the ocean.
+      Other poor wounded creatures have the wretched comfort of knowing where he
+      lies&mdash;of carrying flowers to his tomb. But I&mdash;oh, Mr. Falcon, I
+      am bereaved of all: even his poor remains lost,&mdash;lost&rdquo;&mdash;she
+      could say no more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then that craven heart began to quake at what he was doing; quaked, yet
+      persevered; but his own voice quivered, and his cheek grew ashy pale. No
+      wonder. If ever God condescended to pour lightning on a skunk, surely now
+      was the time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Shaking and sweating with terror at his own act, he stammered out, &ldquo;Would
+      it be the least comfort to you to know that you are not denied that poor
+      consolation? Suppose he died not so miserably as you think? Suppose he was
+      picked up at sea, in a dying state?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Suppose he lingered, nursed by kind and sympathizing hands, that almost
+      saved him? Suppose he was laid in hallowed ground, and a great many tears
+      shed over his grave?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that would indeed be a comfort. And it was to say this you came. I
+      thank you. I bless you. But, my good, kind friend, you are deceived. You
+      don't know my husband. You never saw him. He perished at sea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will it be kind or unkind, to tell you why I think he died as I tell you,
+      and not at sea?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Kind, but impossible. You deceive yourself. Ah, I see. You found some
+      poor sufferer, and were good to him; but it was not my poor Christie. Oh,
+      if it were, I should worship you. But I thank you as it is. It was very
+      kind to want to give me this little, little crumb of comfort; for I know I
+      did not behave well to you, sir: but you are generous, and have forgiven a
+      poor heart-broken creature, that never was very wise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave her time to cry, and then said to her, &ldquo;I only wanted to be sure
+      it WOULD be any comfort to you. Mrs. Staines, it is true I did not even
+      know his name; nor yours. When I met, in this very room, the great
+      disappointment that has saddened my own life, I left England directly. I
+      collected funds, went to Natal, and turned land-owner and farmer. I have
+      made a large fortune, but I need not tell you I am not happy. Well, I had
+      a yacht, and sailing from Cape Town to Algoa Bay, I picked up a raft, with
+      a dying man on it. He was perishing from exhaustion and exposure. I got a
+      little brandy between his lips, and kept him alive. I landed with him at
+      once: and we nursed him on shore. We had to be very cautious. He improved.
+      We got him to take egg-flip. He smiled on us at first, and then he thanked
+      us. I nursed him day and night for ten days. He got much stronger. He
+      spoke to me, thanked me again and again, and told me his name was
+      Christopher Staines. He told me that he should never get well. I implored
+      him to have courage. He said he did not want for courage; but nature had
+      been tried too hard. We got so fond of each other. Oh!&rdquo;&mdash;and the
+      caitiff pretended to break down; and his feigned grief mingled with Rosa's
+      despairing sobs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He made an apparent effort, and said, &ldquo;He spoke to me of his wife, his
+      darling Rosa. The name made me start, but I could not know it was you. At
+      last he was strong enough to write a few lines, and he made me promise to
+      take them to his wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said Rosa. &ldquo;Show them me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This moment.&rdquo; And her hands began to work convulsively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot,&rdquo; said Falcon. &ldquo;I have not brought them with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa cast a keen eye of suspicion and terror on him. His not bringing the
+      letter seemed monstrous; and so indeed it was. The fact is, the letter was
+      not written.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon affected not to notice her keen look. He flowed on, &ldquo;The address he
+      put on that letter astonished me. 'Kent Villa.' Of course I knew Kent
+      Villa: and he called you 'Rosa.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How could you come to me without that letter?&rdquo; cried Rosa, wringing her
+      hands. &ldquo;How am I to know? It is all so strange, so incredible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you believe me?&rdquo; said Falcon sadly. &ldquo;Why should I deceive you? The
+      first time I came down to tell you all this, I did not KNOW who Mrs.
+      Staines was. I suspected; but no more. The second time I saw you in the
+      church, and then I knew; and followed you to try and tell you all this;
+      and you were not at home to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive me,&rdquo; said Rosa carelessly: then earnestly, &ldquo;The letter! when can
+      I see it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will send, or bring it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bring it! I am in agony till I see it. Oh, my darling! my darling! It
+      can't be true. It was not my Christie. He lies in the depths of the ocean.
+      Lord Tadcaster was in the ship, and he says so; everybody says so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I say he sleeps in hallowed ground, and these hands laid him there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa lifted her hands to heaven, and cried piteously, &ldquo;I don't know what
+      to think. You would not willingly deceive me. But how can this be? Oh,
+      Uncle Philip, why are you away from me? Sir, you say he gave you a
+      letter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, why, why did you not bring it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because he told me the contents; and I thought he prized my poor efforts
+      too highly. It did not occur to me you would doubt my word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no: no more I do: but I fear it was not my Christie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll go for the letter at once, Mrs. Staines.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, thank you! Bless you! Yes, this minute!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The artful rogue did not go; never intended.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He rose TO GO; but had a sudden inspiration; very sudden, of course. &ldquo;Had
+      he nothing about him you could recognize him by?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, he had a ring I gave him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon took a black-edged envelope out of his pocket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A ruby ring,&rdquo; said she, beginning to tremble at his quiet action.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that it?&rdquo; and he handed her a ruby ring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Staines uttered a sharp cry and seized the ring. Her eyes dilated
+      over it, and she began to tremble in every limb; and at last she sank
+      slowly back, and her head fell on one side like a broken lily. The sudden
+      sight of the ring overpowered her almost to fainting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon rose to call for assistance; but she made him a feeble motion not
+      to do so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She got the better of her faintness, and then she fell to kissing the
+      ring, in an agony of love, and wept over it, and still held it, and gazed
+      at it through her blinding tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon eyed her uneasily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But he soon found he had nothing to fear. For a long time she seemed
+      scarcely aware of his presence; and when she noticed him, it was to thank
+      him, almost passionately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was my Christie you were so good to: may Heaven bless you for it: and
+      you will bring me his letter, will you not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, do not go yet. It is all so strange: so sad. I seem to have lost my
+      poor Christie again, since he did not die at sea. But no, I am ungrateful
+      to God, and ungrateful to the kind friend that nursed him to the last. Ah,
+      I envy you that. Tell me all. Never mind my crying. I have seen the time I
+      could not cry. It was worse then than now. I shall always cry when I speak
+      of him, ay, to my dying day. Tell me, tell me all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her passion frightened the egotist, but did not turn him. He had gone too
+      far. He told her that, after raising all their hopes, Dr. Staines had
+      suddenly changed for the worse, and sunk rapidly; that his last words had
+      been about her, and he had said, &ldquo;My poor Rosa, who will protect her?&rdquo;
+       That, to comfort him, he had said he would protect her. Then the dying man
+      had managed to write a line or two, and to address it. Almost his last
+      words had been, &ldquo;Be a father to my child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is strange.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have no child? Then it must have been you he meant. He spoke of you
+      as a child more than once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Falcon, I have a child; but born since I lost my poor child's
+      father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I think he knew it. They say that dying men can see all over the
+      world: and I remember, when he said it, his eyes seemed fixed very
+      strangely, as if on something distant. Oh, how wonderful all this is. May
+      I see his child, to whom I promised&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The artist in lies left his sentence half completed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa rang, and sent for her little boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Falcon admired his beauty, and said quietly, &ldquo;I shall keep my vow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He then left her, with a promise to come back early next morning with the
+      letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She let him go only on those conditions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As soon as her father came in, she ran to him with this strange story.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't believe it,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;It is impossible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She showed him the proof, the ruby ring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he became very uneasy, and begged her not to tell a soul. He did not
+      tell her the reason, but he feared the insurance office would hear of it,
+      and require proofs of Christopher's decease, whereas they had accepted it
+      without a murmur, on the evidence of Captain Hamilton and the Amphitrite's
+      log-book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for Falcon, he went carefully through Staines's two letters, and
+      wherever he found a word that suited his purpose, he traced it by the
+      usual process, and so, in the course of a few hours, he concocted a short
+      letter, all the words in which, except three, were facsimiles, only here
+      and there a little shaky; the three odd words he had to imitate by
+      observation of the letters. The signature he got to perfection by tracing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He inserted this letter in the original envelope, and sealed it very
+      carefully, so as to hide that the seal had been tampered with.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus armed, he went down to Gravesend. There he hired a horse and rode to
+      Kent Villa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Why he hired a horse, he knew how hard it is to forge handwriting, and he
+      chose to have the means of escape at hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He came into the drawing-room, ghastly pale, and almost immediately gave
+      her the letter; then turned his back, feigning delicacy. In reality he was
+      quaking with fear lest she should suspect the handwriting. But the
+      envelope was addressed by Staines, and paved the way for the letter; she
+      was unsuspicious and good, and her heart cried out for her husband's last
+      written words: at such a moment, what chance had judgment and suspicion in
+      an innocent and loving soul?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her eloquent sighs and sobs soon told the caitiff he had nothing to fear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The letter ran thus:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      MY OWN ROSA,&mdash;All that a brother could do for a beloved brother,
+      Falcon has done. He nursed me night and day. But it is vain. I shall never
+      see you again in this world. I send you a protector, and a father to your
+      child. Value him. He has promised to be your stay on earth, and my spirit
+      shall watch over you.&mdash;To my last breath, your loving husband,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      CHRISTOPHER STAINES.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon rose, and began to steal on tiptoe out of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa stopped him. &ldquo;You need not go,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;You are our friend. By and
+      by I hope I shall find words to thank you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray let me retire a moment,&rdquo; said the hypocrite. &ldquo;A husband's last
+      words: too sacred&mdash;a stranger:&rdquo; and he went out into the garden.
+      There he found the nursemaid Emily, and the little boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped the child, and made love to the nursemaid; showed her his
+      diamonds&mdash;he carried them all about him&mdash;told her he had thirty
+      thousand acres in Cape Colony, and diamonds on them; and was going to buy
+      thirty thousand more of the government. &ldquo;Here, take one,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Oh,
+      you needn't be shy. They are common enough on my estates. I'll tell you
+      what, though, you could not buy that for less than thirty pounds at any
+      shop in London. Could she, my little duck? Never mind, it is no brighter
+      than her eyes. Now do you know what she will do with that, Master
+      Christie? She will give it to some duffer to put in a pin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She won't do nothing of the kind,&rdquo; said Emily, flushing all over. &ldquo;She is
+      not such a fool.&rdquo; She then volunteered to tell him she had no sweetheart,
+      and did not trouble her head about young men at all. He interpreted this
+      to mean she was looking out for one. So do I.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No sweetheart!&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;and the prettiest girl I have seen since I
+      landed: then I put in for the situation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here, seeing the footman coming, he bestowed a most paternal kiss on
+      little Christie, and saying, &ldquo;Not a word to John, or no more diamonds from
+      me;&rdquo; he moved carefully away, leaving the girl all in a flutter with
+      extravagant hopes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next moment this wolf in the sheep-fold entered the drawing-room. Mrs.
+      Staines was not there. He waited, and waited, and began to get rather
+      uneasy, as men will who walk among pitfalls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the footman came to say that Mrs. Staines was with her father,
+      in his study, but she would come to him in five minutes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This increased his anxiety. What! She was taking advice of an older head.
+      He began to be very seriously alarmed, and, indeed, had pretty well made
+      up his mind to go down and gallop off, when the door opened, and Rosa came
+      hastily in. Her eyes were very red with weeping. She came to him with both
+      hands extended to him; he gave her his, timidly. She pressed them with
+      such earnestness and power as he could not have suspected; and thanked
+      him, and blessed him, with such a torrent of eloquence, that he hung his
+      head with shame; and, being unable to face it out, villain as he was, yet
+      still artful to the core, he pretended to burst out crying, and ran out of
+      the room, and rode away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He waited two days, and then called again. Rosa reproached him sweetly for
+      going before she had half thanked him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the better,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I have been thanked a great deal too much
+      already. Who would not do his best for a dying countryman, and fight night
+      and day to save him for his wife and child at home? If I had succeeded,
+      then I would be greedy of praise: but now it makes me blush; it makes me
+      very sad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You did your best,&rdquo; said Rosa tearfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! that I did. Indeed, I was ill for weeks after, myself, through the
+      strain upon my mind, and the disappointment, and going so many nights
+      without sleep. But don't let us talk of that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know what my darling says to me in my letter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you like to see it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed I should; but I have no right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every right. It is the only mark of esteem, worth anything, I can show
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She handed him the letter, and buried her own face in her hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He read it, and acted the deepest emotion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He handed it back, without a word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVIII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      From this time Falcon was always welcome at Kent Villa. He fascinated
+      everybody in the house. He renewed his acquaintance with Mr. Lusignan, and
+      got asked to stay a week in the house. He showed Rosa and her father the
+      diamonds, and, the truth must be owned, they made Rosa's eyes sparkle for
+      the first time this eighteen months. He insinuated rather than declared
+      his enormous wealth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In reply to the old man's eager questions, as the large diamonds lay
+      glittering on the table, and pointed every word, he said that a few of his
+      Hottentots had found these for him; he had made them dig on a
+      diamondiferous part of his estate, just by way of testing the matter; and
+      this was the result; this, and a much larger stone, for which he had
+      received eight thousand pounds from Posno.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I was a young man,&rdquo; said Lusignan, &ldquo;I would go out directly, and dig
+      on your estate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would not let you do anything so paltry,&rdquo; said &ldquo;le Menteur.&rdquo; &ldquo;Why, my
+      dear sir, there are no fortunes to be made by grubbing for diamonds; the
+      fortunes are made out of the diamonds, but not in that way. Now, I have
+      thirty thousand acres, and am just concluding a bargain for thirty
+      thousand more, on which I happen to know there are diamonds in a sly
+      corner. Well, of my thirty thousand tried acres, a hundred only are
+      diamondiferous. But I have four thousand thirty-foot claims leased at ten
+      shillings per month. Count that up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, it is twenty-four thousand pounds a year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excuse me: you must deduct a thousand a year for the expenses of
+      collection. But this is only one phase of the business. I have a large inn
+      upon each of the three great routes from the diamonds to the coast; and
+      these inns are supplied with the produce of my own farms. Mark the effect
+      of the diamonds on property. My sixty thousand acres, which are not
+      diamondiferous, will very soon be worth as much as sixty thousand English
+      acres, say two pounds the acre per annum. That is under the mark, because
+      in Africa the land is not burdened with poor-rates, tithes, and all the
+      other iniquities that crush the English land-owner, as I know to my cost.
+      But that is not all, sir. Would you believe it? even after the diamonds
+      were declared, the people out there had so little foresight that they
+      allowed me to buy land all round Port Elizabeth, Natal, and Cape Town, the
+      three ports through which the world get at the diamonds, and the diamonds
+      get at the world. I have got a girdle of land round those three outlets,
+      bought by the acre; in two years I shall sell it by the yard. Believe me,
+      sir, English fortunes, even the largest, are mere child's play, compared
+      with the colossal wealth a man can accumulate, if he looks beyond these
+      great discoveries to their consequences, and lets others grub for him. But
+      what is the use of it all to me?&rdquo; said this Bohemian, with a sigh. &ldquo;I have
+      no taste for luxuries; no love of display. I have not even charity to
+      dispense on a large scale; for there are no deserving poor out there; and
+      the poverty that springs from vice, that I never will encourage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      John heard nearly all this, and took it into the kitchen; and henceforth
+      Adoration was the only word for this prince of men, this rare combination
+      of the Adonis and the millionnaire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He seldom held such discourses before Rosa; but talked her father into an
+      impression of his boundless wealth, and half reconciled him to Rosa's
+      refusal of Lord Tadcaster, since here was an old suitor, who, doubtless,
+      with a little encouragement, would soon come on again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Under this impression, Mr. Lusignan gave Falcon more than a little
+      encouragement, and, as Rosa did not resist, he became a constant visitor
+      at the villa, and was always there from Saturday to Monday.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He exerted all his art of pleasing, and he succeeded. He was welcome to
+      Rosa, and she made no secret of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Emily threw herself in his way, and had many a sly talk with him, while he
+      was pretending to be engaged with young Christie. He flattered her, and
+      made her sweet on him, but was too much in love with Rosa, after his
+      fashion, to flirt seriously with her. He thought he might want her
+      services: so he worked upon her after this fashion; asked her if she would
+      like to keep an inn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wouldn't I just?&rdquo; said she frankly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he told her that, if all went to his wish in England, she should be
+      landlady of one of his inns in the Cape Colony. &ldquo;And you will get a good
+      husband out there directly,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Beauty is a very uncommon thing in
+      those parts. But I shall ask you to marry somebody who can help you in the
+      business&mdash;or not to marry at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish I had the inn,&rdquo; said Emily. &ldquo;Husbands are soon got when a girl
+      hasn't her face only to look to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I promise you the inn,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;and a good outfit of clothes, and
+      money in both pockets, if you will do me a good turn here in England.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I would, sir. But, laws, what can a poor girl like me do for a rich
+      gentleman like you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you keep a secret, Emily?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody better. You try me, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at her well; saw she was one of those who could keep a secret,
+      if she chose, and he resolved to risk it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Emily, my girl,&rdquo; said he sadly, &ldquo;I am an unhappy man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You, sir! Why, you didn't ought to be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am then. I am in love; and cannot win her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he told the girl a pretty tender tale, that he had loved Mrs. Staines
+      when she was Miss Lusignan, had thought himself beloved in turn, but was
+      rejected; and now, though she was a widow, he had not the courage to court
+      her, her heart was in the grave. He spoke in such a broken voice that the
+      girl's good-nature fought against her little pique at finding how little
+      he was smitten with HER, and Falcon soon found means to array her cupidity
+      on the side of her good-nature. He gave her a five-pound note to buy
+      gloves, and promised her a fortune, and she undertook to be secret as the
+      grave, and say certain things adroitly to Mrs. Staines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Accordingly, this young woman omitted no opportunity of dropping a word in
+      favor of Falcon. For one thing, she said to Mrs. Staines, &ldquo;Mr. Falcon must
+      be very fond of children, ma'am. Why, he worships Master Christie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed! I have not observed that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, no, ma'am. He is rather shy over it; but when he sees us alone, he
+      is sure to come to us, and say, 'Let me look at my child, nurse;' and he
+      do seem fit to eat him. Onst he says to me, 'This boy is my heir, nurse.'
+      What did he mean by that, ma'am?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is he any kin to you, ma'am?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;None whatever. You must have misunderstood him. You should not repeat all
+      that people say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, ma'am; only I did think it so odd. Poor gentleman, I don't think he
+      is happy, for all his money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is too good to be unhappy all his life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I think, ma'am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      These conversations were always short, for Rosa, though she was too kind
+      and gentle to snub the girl, was also too delicate to give the least
+      encouragement to her gossip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Rosa's was a mind that could be worked upon, and these short but
+      repeated eulogies were not altogether without effect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last the insidious Falcon, by not making his approaches in a way to
+      alarm her, acquired her friendship as well as her gratitude; and, in
+      short, she got used to him and liked him. Not being bound by any limit of
+      fact whatever, he entertained her, and took her out of herself a little by
+      extemporaneous pictures; he told her all his thrilling adventures by flood
+      and field, not one of which had ever occurred, yet he made them all sound
+      like truth; he invented strange characters, and set them talking; he went
+      after great whales, and harpooned one, which slapped his boat into
+      fragments with one stroke of its tail; then died, and he hung on by the
+      harpoon protruding from the carcass till a ship came and picked him up. He
+      shot a lion that was carrying off his favorite Hottentot. He encountered
+      another, wounded him with both barrels, was seized, and dragged along the
+      ground, and gave himself up for lost, but kept firing his revolver down
+      the monster's throat till at last he sickened him, and so escaped out of
+      death's maw; he did NOT say how he had fired in the air, and ridden
+      fourteen miles on end, at the bare sight of a lion's cub; but, to
+      compensate that one reserve, plunged into a raging torrent and saved a
+      drowning woman by her long hair, which he caught in his teeth; he rode a
+      race on an ostrich against a friend on a zebra, which went faster, but
+      threw his rider, and screamed with rage at not being able to eat him; he,
+      Falcon, having declined to run unless his friend's zebra was muzzled. He
+      fed the hungry, clothed the naked, and shot a wild elephant in the eye;
+      and all this he enlivened with pictorial descriptions of no mean beauty,
+      and as like South Africa as if it had been feu George Robins advertising
+      that continent for sale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In short, never was there a more voluble and interesting liar by word of
+      mouth, and never was there a more agreeable creature interposed between a
+      bereaved widow and her daily grief and regrets. He diverted her mind from
+      herself, and did her good.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, such was the charm of infinite lying, she missed him on the days
+      he did not come, and was brighter when he did come and lie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Things went smoothly, and so pleasantly, that he would gladly have
+      prolonged this form of courtship for a month or two longer, sooner than
+      risk a premature declaration. But more than one cause drove him to a
+      bolder course; his passion, which increased in violence by contact with
+      its beautiful object, and also a great uneasiness he felt at not hearing
+      from Phoebe. This silence was ominous. He and she knew each other, and
+      what the other was capable of. He knew she was the woman to cross the seas
+      after him, if Staines left the diggings, and any explanation took place
+      that might point to his whereabouts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These double causes precipitated matters, and at last he began to throw
+      more devotion into his manner; and having so prepared her for a few days,
+      he took his opportunity and said, one day, &ldquo;We are both unhappy. Give me
+      the right to console you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She colored high, and said, &ldquo;You have consoled me more than all the world.
+      But there is a limit; always will be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      One less adroit would have brought her to the point; but this artist only
+      sighed, and let the arrow rankle. By this means he out-fenced her; for now
+      she had listened to a declaration and not stopped it short.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He played melancholy for a day or two, and then he tried her another way.
+      He said, &ldquo;I promised your dying husband to be your protector, and a father
+      to his child. I see but one way to keep my word, and that gives me courage
+      to speak&mdash;without that I never could. Rosa, I loved you years ago, I
+      am unmarried for your sake. Let me be your husband, and a father to your
+      child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa shook her head. &ldquo;I COULD not marry again. I esteem you, I am very
+      grateful to you: and I know I behaved ill to you before. If I could marry
+      again, it would be you. But I cannot. Oh, never! never!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we both are to be unhappy all our days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall, as I ought to be. You will not, I hope. I shall miss you sadly;
+      but, for all that, I advise you to leave me. You will carry my everlasting
+      gratitude, go where you will; that and my esteem are all I have to give.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will go,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;and I hope he who is gone will forgive my want of
+      courage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He who is gone took my promise never to marry again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dying men see clearer. I am sure he wished&mdash;no matter; it is too
+      delicate.&rdquo; He kissed her hand and went out, a picture of dejection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Staines shed a tear for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nothing was heard of him for several days; and Rosa pitied him more and
+      more, and felt a certain discontent with herself, and doubt whether she
+      had done right.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Matters were in this state, when one morning Emily came screaming in from
+      the garden, &ldquo;The child!&mdash;Master Christie!&mdash;Where is he?&mdash;Where
+      is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The house was alarmed. The garden searched, the adjoining paddock. The
+      child was gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Emily was examined, and owned, with many sobs and hysterical cries, that
+      she had put him down in the summer-house for a minute, while she went to
+      ask the gardener for some balm, balm tea being a favorite drink of hers.
+      &ldquo;But there was nobody near that I saw,&rdquo; she sobbed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Further inquiry proved, however, that a tall gypsy woman had been seen
+      prowling about that morning; and suspicion instantly fastened on her.
+      Servants were sent out right and left; but nothing discovered; and the
+      agonized mother, terrified out of her wits, had Falcon telegraphed to
+      immediately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He came galloping down that very evening, and heard the story. He galloped
+      into Gravesend, and after seeing the police, sent word out he should
+      advertise. He placarded Gravesend with bills, offering a reward of a
+      thousand pounds, the child to be brought to him, and no questions asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime the police and many of the neighboring gentry came about the
+      miserable mother with their vague ideas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Down comes Falcon again next day; tells what he has done, and treats them
+      all with contempt. &ldquo;Don't you be afraid, Mrs. Staines,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;You will
+      get him back. I have taken the sure way. This sort of rogues dare not go
+      near the police, and the police can't find them. You have no enemies; it
+      is only some woman that has fancied a beautiful child. Well, she can have
+      them by the score, for a thousand pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was the only one with a real idea; the woman saw it, and clung to him.
+      He left late at night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next morning out came the advertisements, and he sent her a handful by
+      special messenger. His zeal and activity kept her bereaved heart from
+      utter despair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At eleven that night came a telegraph:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have got him. Coming down by special train.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then what a burst of joy and gratitude! The very walls of the house seemed
+      to ring with it as a harp rings with music. A special train, too! he would
+      not let the mother yearn all night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At one in the morning he drove up with the child and a hired nurse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Imagine the scene! The mother's screams of joy, her furious kisses, her
+      cooing, her tears, and all the miracles of nature at such a time. The
+      servants all mingled with their employers in the general rapture, and
+      Emily, who was pale as death, cried and sobbed, and said, &ldquo;Oh, ma'am, I'll
+      never let him out of my sight again, no, not for one minute.&rdquo; Falcon made
+      her a signal, and went out. She met him in the garden.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was much agitated, and cried, &ldquo;Oh, you did well to bring him to-day. I
+      could not have kept it another hour. I'm a wretch.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a good kind girl; and here's the fifty pounds I promised you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, and I have earned it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you have. Meet me in the garden to-morrow morning, and I'll
+      show you you have done a kind thing to your mistress, as well as me. And
+      as for the fifty pounds, that is NOTHING; do you hear? it is nothing at
+      all, compared with what I will do for you, if you will be true to me, and
+      hold your tongue.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! as for that, my tongue shan't betray you, nor shame ME. You are a
+      gentleman, and I do think you love her, or I would not help you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So she salved her nursemaid's conscience&mdash;with the help of the fifty
+      pounds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The mother was left to her rapture that night. In the morning Falcon told
+      his tale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At two P.M. a man had called on him, and had produced one of his
+      advertisements, and had asked him if that was all square&mdash;no bobbies
+      on the lurk. 'All square, my fine fellow.' 'Well,' said he, 'I suppose you
+      are a gentleman.' 'I am of that opinion too.' 'Well, sir,' says he, 'I
+      know a party as has FOUND a young gent as comes werry nigh your
+      advertisement.' 'It will be a very lucky find to that party,' I said, 'if
+      he is on the square.' 'Oh, WE are always on the square, when the blunt is
+      put down.' 'The blunt for the child, when you like, and where you like,'
+      said I. 'You are the right sort,' said he. 'I am,' replied I. 'Will you
+      come and see if it is all right?' said he. 'In a minute,' said I. Stepped
+      into my bedroom, and loaded my six-shooter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; said Lusignan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A revolver with six barrels: by the by, the very same I killed the lion
+      with. Ugh! I never think of that scene without feeling a little quiver;
+      and my nerves are pretty good, too. Well, he took me into an awful part of
+      the town, down a filthy close, into some boozing ken&mdash;I beg pardon,
+      some thieves' public-house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my dear friend,&rdquo; said Rosa, &ldquo;were you not frightened?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall I tell you the truth, or play the hero? I think I'll tell YOU the
+      truth. I felt a little frightened, lest they should get my money and my
+      life, without my getting my godson: that is what I call him now. Well, two
+      ugly dogs came in, and said, 'Let us see the flimsies, before you see the
+      kid.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'That is rather sharp practice, I think,' said I; 'however, here's the
+      swag, and here's the watch-dog.' So I put down the notes, and my hand over
+      them with my revolver cocked, and ready to fire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes,&rdquo; said Rosa pantingly. &ldquo;Ah, you were a match for them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Mrs. Staines, if I was writing you a novel, I suppose I should tell
+      you the rogues recoiled; but the truth is they only laughed, and were
+      quite pleased. 'Swell's in earnest,' said one, 'Jem, show the kid.' Jem
+      whistled, and in came a great tall black gypsy woman, with the darling. My
+      heart was in my mouth, but I would not let them see it. I said, 'It is all
+      right. Take half the notes here, and half at the door.' They agreed, and
+      then I did it quick, walked to the door, took the child, gave them the odd
+      notes, and made off as fast as I could, hired a nurse at the hospital&mdash;and
+      the rest you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Papa,&rdquo; said Rosa, with enthusiasm, &ldquo;there is but one man in England who
+      would have got me back my child, and this is he.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When they were alone, Falcon told her she had said words that gladdened
+      his very heart. &ldquo;You admit I can carry out one half of his wishes?&rdquo; said
+      he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Staines said &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; then colored high; then, to turn it off, said,
+      &ldquo;But I cannot allow you to lose that large sum of money. You must let me
+      repay you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Large sum of money!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;It is no more to me than sixpence to most
+      people. I don't know what to do with my money; and I never shall know,
+      unless you will make a sacrifice of your own feelings to the wishes of the
+      dead. O Mrs. Staines&mdash;Rosa, do pray consider that a man of that
+      wisdom sees the future, and gives wise advice. Sure am I that, if you
+      could overcome your natural repugnance to a second marriage, it would be
+      the best thing for your little boy&mdash;I love him already as if he were
+      my own&mdash;and in time would bring you peace and comfort, and some day,
+      years hence, even happiness. You are my only love; yet I should never have
+      come to you again if HE had not sent me. Do consider how strange it all
+      is, and what it points to, and don't let me have the misery of losing you
+      again, when you can do no better now, alas! than reward my fidelity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was much moved at this artful appeal, and said, &ldquo;If I was sure I was
+      obeying his will. But how can I feel that, when we both promised never to
+      wed again?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A man's dying words are more sacred than any other. You have his letter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but he does not say 'marry again.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is what he meant, though.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can you say that? How can you know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I put the words he said to me together with that short line to
+      you. Mind, I don't say that he did not exaggerate my poor merits; on the
+      contrary, I think he did. But I declare to you that he did hope I should
+      take care of you and your child. Right or wrong, it was his wish, so pray
+      do not deceive yourself on that point.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This made more impression on her than anything else he could say, and she
+      said, &ldquo;I promise you one thing, I will never marry any man but you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Instead of pressing her further, as an inferior artist would, he broke
+      into raptures, kissed her hand tenderly, and was in such high spirits, and
+      so voluble all day, that she smiled sweetly on him, and thought to
+      herself, &ldquo;Poor soul! how happy I could make him with a word!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he was always watching her face&mdash;a practice he carried further
+      than any person living&mdash;he divined that sentiment, and wrought upon
+      it so, that at last he tormented her into saying she would marry him SOME
+      DAY.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he had brought her to that, he raged inwardly to think he had not two
+      years to work in; for it was evident she would marry him in time. But no,
+      it had taken him more than four months, close siege, to bring her to that.
+      No word from Phoebe. An ominous dread hung over his own soul. His wife
+      would be upon him, or, worse still, her brother Dick, who he knew would
+      beat him to a mummy on the spot; or, worst of all, the husband of Rosa
+      Staines, who would kill him, or fling him into a prison. He MUST make a
+      push.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this emergency he used his ally, Mr. Lusignan; he told him Mrs. Staines
+      had promised to marry him, but at some distant date. This would not do; he
+      must look after his enormous interests in the colony, and he was so much
+      in love he could not leave her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old gentleman was desperately fond of Falcon, and bent on the match,
+      and he actually consented to give his daughter what Falcon called a little
+      push.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little push was a very great one, I think.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It consisted in directing the clergyman to call in church the banns of
+      marriage between Reginald Falcon and Rosa Staines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were both in church together when this was done. Rosa all but
+      screamed, and then turned red as fire and white as a ghost, by turns. She
+      never stood up again all the service; and in going home refused Falcon's
+      arm, and walked swiftly home by herself. Not that she had the slightest
+      intention of passing this monstrous thing by in silence. On the contrary,
+      her wrath was boiling over, and so hot that she knew she should make a
+      scene in the street if she said a word there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Once inside the house she turned on Falcon, with a white cheek and a
+      flashing eye, and said, &ldquo;Follow me, sir, if you please.&rdquo; She led the way
+      to her father's study. &ldquo;Papa,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I throw myself on your
+      protection. Mr. Falcon has affronted me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Rosa!&rdquo; cried Falcon, affecting utter dismay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Publicly&mdash;publicly: he has had the banns of marriage cried in the
+      church, without my permission.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't raise your voice so loud, child. All the house will hear you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I choose all the house to hear me. I will not endure it. I will never
+      marry you now&mdash;never!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rosa, my child,&rdquo; said Lusignan, &ldquo;you need not scold poor Falcon, for I am
+      the culprit. It was I who ordered the banns to be cried.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! papa, you had no right to do such a thing as that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I had. I exercised parental authority for once, and for your
+      good, and for the good of a true and faithful lover of yours, whom you
+      jilted once, and now you trifle with his affection and his interests. He
+      loves you too well to leave you; yet you know his vast estates and
+      interests require supervision.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That for his vast estates!&rdquo; said Rosa contemptuously. &ldquo;I am not to be
+      driven to the altar like this, when my heart is in the grave. Don't you do
+      it again, papa, or I'll get up and forbid the banns; affront for affront.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like to see that,&rdquo; said the old gentleman dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa vouchsafed no reply, but swept out of the room, with burning cheeks
+      and glittering eyes, and was not seen all day, would not dine with them,
+      in spite of three humble, deprecating notes Falcon sent her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let the spiteful cat alone,&rdquo; said old Lusignan. &ldquo;You and I will dine
+      together in peace and quiet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a dull dinner; but Falcon took advantage of the opportunity,
+      impregnated the father with his views, and got him to promise to have the
+      banns cried next Sunday. He consented.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa learned next Sunday morning that this was to be done, and her courage
+      failed her. She did not go to church at all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She cried a great deal, and submitted to violence, as your true women are
+      too apt to do. They had compromised her, and so conquered her. The
+      permanent feelings of gratitude and esteem caused a reaction after her
+      passion, and she gave up open resistance as hopeless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon renewed his visits, and was received with the mere sullen languor
+      of a woman who has given in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The banns were cried a third time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the patient Rosa bought laudanum enough to reunite her to her
+      Christopher, in spite of them all; and having provided herself with this
+      resource, became more cheerful, and even kind and caressing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She declined to name the day at present, and that was awkward.
+      Nevertheless the conspirators felt sure they should tire her out into
+      doing that, before long; for they saw their way clear, and she was
+      perplexed in the extreme.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In her perplexity, she used to talk to a certain beautiful star she called
+      her Christopher. She loved to fancy he was now an inhabitant of that
+      bright star; and often on a clear night she would look up, and beg for
+      guidance from this star. This I consider foolish: but then I am old and
+      sceptical; she was still young and innocent, and sorely puzzled to know
+      her husband's real will.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I don't suppose the star had anything to do with it, except as a focus of
+      her thoughts; but one fine night, after a long inspection of Christopher's
+      star, she dreamed a dream. She thought that a lovely wedding-dress hung
+      over a chair, that a crown of diamonds as large as almonds sparkled ready
+      for her on the dressing-table, and she was undoing her black gown, and
+      about to take it off, when suddenly the diamonds began to pale, and the
+      white satin dress to melt away, and in its place there rose a pale face
+      and a long beard, and Christopher Staines stood before her, and said
+      quietly, &ldquo;Is this how you keep your vow?&rdquo; Then he sank slowly, and the
+      white dress was black, and the diamonds were jet; and she awoke, with his
+      gentle words of remonstrance and his very tones ringing in her ear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This dream, co-operating with her previous agitation and misgivings, shook
+      her very much; she did not come down-stairs till near dinner-time; and
+      both her father and Falcon, who came as a matter of course to spend his
+      Sunday, were struck with her appearance. She was pale, gloomy, morose, and
+      had an air of desperation about her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon would not see it; he knew that it is safest to let her sex alone
+      when they look like that; and then the storm sometimes subsides of itself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After dinner, Rosa retired early; and soon she was heard walking rapidly
+      up and down the dressing-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was quite unusual, and made a noise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Papa Lusignan thought it inconsiderate; and after a while, remarking
+      gently that he was not particularly fond of sound, he proposed they should
+      smoke the pipe of peace on the lawn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They did so; but after a while, finding that Falcon was not smoking, he
+      said, &ldquo;Don't let me detain you. Rosa is alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon took the hint, and went to the drawing-room. Rosa met him on the
+      stairs, with a scarf over her shoulders. &ldquo;I must speak to papa,&rdquo; said she.
+      &ldquo;Where is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is on the lawn, dear Rosa,&rdquo; said Falcon, in his most dulcet tones. He
+      was sure of his ally, and very glad to use him as a buffer to receive the
+      first shock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So he went into the drawing-room, where all the lights were burning, and
+      quietly took up a book. But he did not read a line; he was too occupied in
+      trying to read his own future.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The mean villain, who is incapable of remorse, is, of all men, most
+      capable of fear. His villany had, to all appearance, reached the goal; for
+      he felt sure that all Rosa's struggles would, sooner or later, succumb to
+      her sense of gratitude and his strong will and patient temper. But when
+      the victory was won, what a life! He must fly with her to some foreign
+      country, pursued from pillar to post by an enraged husband, and by the
+      offended law. And if he escaped the vindictive foe a year or two, how
+      could he escape that other enemy he knew, and dreaded&mdash;poverty? He
+      foresaw he should come to hate the woman he was about to wrong, and she
+      would instantly revenge herself, by making him an exile and, soon or late,
+      a prisoner, or a pauper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While these misgivings battled with his base but ardent passion, strange
+      things were going on out of doors&mdash;but they will be best related in
+      another sequence of events, to which indeed they fairly belong.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIX.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Staines and Mrs. Falcon landed at Plymouth, and went up to town by the
+      same train. They parted in London, Staines to go down to Gravesend, Mrs.
+      Falcon to visit her husband's old haunts, and see if she could find him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not find him; but she heard of him, and learned that he always
+      went down to Gravesend from Saturday till Monday.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Notwithstanding all she had said to Staines, the actual information
+      startled her, and gave her a turn. She was obliged to sit down, for her
+      knees seemed to give way. It was but a momentary weakness. She was now a
+      wife and a mother, and had her rights. She said to herself, &ldquo;My rogue has
+      turned that poor woman's head long before this, no doubt. But I shall go
+      down and just bring him away by the ear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For once her bitter indignation overpowered every other sentiment, and she
+      lost no time, but late as it was went down to Gravesend, ordered a private
+      sitting-room and bedroom for the night, and took a fly to Kent Villa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Christopher Staines had the start of her. He had already gone down to
+      Gravesend with his carpet-bag, left it at the inn, and walked to Kent
+      Villa that lovely summer night, the happiest husband in England.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His heart had never for one instant been disturbed by Mrs. Falcon's
+      monstrous suspicion; he looked on her as a monomaniac; a sensible woman
+      insane on one point, her husband.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he reached the villa, however, he thought it prudent to make sure
+      that Falcon had come to England at all, and discharged his commission. He
+      would not run the risk, small as he thought it, of pouncing unexpected on
+      his Rosa, being taken for a ghost, and terrifying her, or exciting her to
+      madness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now the premises of Kent Villa were admirably adapted to what they call in
+      war a reconnaissance. The lawn was studded with laurestinas and other
+      shrubs that had grown magnificently in that Kentish air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines had no sooner set his foot on the lawn, than he heard voices; he
+      crept towards them from bush to bush; and standing in impenetrable shade,
+      he saw in the clear moonlight two figures&mdash;Mr. Lusignan and Reginald
+      Falcon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These two dropped out only a word or two at intervals; but what they did
+      say struck Staines as odd. For one thing, Lusignan remarked, &ldquo;I suppose
+      you will want to go back to the Cape. Such enormous estates as yours will
+      want looking after.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Enormous estates!&rdquo; said Staines to himself. &ldquo;Then they must have grown
+      very fast in a few months.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; said Falcon; &ldquo;but I think of showing her a little of Europe
+      first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines thought this still more mysterious; he waited to hear more, but
+      the succeeding remarks were of an ordinary kind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He noticed, however, that Falcon spoke of his wife by her Christian name,
+      and that neither party mentioned Christopher Staines. He seemed quite out
+      of their little world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He began to feel a strange chill creep down him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently Falcon went off to join Rosa; and Staines thought it was quite
+      time to ask the old gentleman whether Falcon had executed his commission,
+      or not.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was only hesitating how to do it, not liking to pounce in the dark on a
+      man who abhorred everything like excitement, when Rosa herself came flying
+      out in great agitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh! the thrill he felt at the sight of her! With all his self-possession,
+      he would have sprung forward and taken her in his arms with a mighty cry
+      of love, if she had not immediately spoken words that rooted him to the
+      spot with horror. But she came with the words in her very mouth; &ldquo;Papa, I
+      am come to tell you I cannot, and will not, marry Mr. Falcon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, you will, my dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never! I'll die sooner. Not that you will care for that. I tell you I saw
+      my Christopher last night&mdash;in a dream. He had a beard; but I saw him,
+      oh, so plain; and he said, 'Is this the way you keep your promise?' That
+      is enough for me. I have prayed, again and again, to his star, for light.
+      I am so perplexed and harassed by you all, and you make me believe what
+      you like. Well, I have had a revelation. It is not my poor lost darling's
+      wish I should wed again. I don't believe Mr. Falcon any more. I hear
+      nothing but lies by day. The truth comes to my bedside at night. I will
+      not marry this man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Consider, Rosa, your credit is pledged. You must not be always jilting
+      him heartlessly. Dreams! nonsense. There&mdash;I love peace. It is no use
+      your storming at me; rave to the moon and the stars, if you like, and when
+      you have done, do pray come in, and behave like a rational woman, who has
+      pledged her faith to an honorable man, and a man of vast estates&mdash;a
+      man that nursed your husband in his last illness, found your child, at a
+      great expense, when you had lost him, and merits eternal gratitude, not
+      eternal jilting. I have no patience with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old gentleman retired in high dudgeon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines stood in the black shade of his cedar-tree, rooted to the ground
+      by this revelation of male villany and female credulity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not know what on earth to do. He wanted to kill Falcon, but not to
+      terrify his own wife to death. It was now too clear she thought he was
+      dead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa watched her father's retiring figure out of sight. &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said
+      she, clenching her teeth; then suddenly she turned, and looked up to
+      heaven. &ldquo;Do you hear?&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;my Christie's star? I am a poor
+      perplexed creature. I asked you for a sign, and that very night I saw him
+      in a dream. Why should I marry out of gratitude? Why should I marry one
+      man, when I love another? What does it matter his being dead? I love him
+      too well to be wife to any living man. They persuade me, they coax me,
+      they pull me, they push me. I see they will make me. But I will outwit
+      them. See&mdash;see!&rdquo; and she held up a little phial in the moonlight.
+      &ldquo;This shall cut the knot for me; this shall keep me true to my Christie,
+      and save me from breaking promises I ought never to have made. This shall
+      unite me once more with him I killed, and loved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She meant she would kill herself the night before the wedding, which
+      perhaps she would not, and perhaps she would. Who can tell? The weak are
+      violent. But Christopher, seeing the poison so near her lips, was
+      perplexed, took two strides, wrenched it out of her hand, with a snarl of
+      rage, and instantly plunged into the shade again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa uttered a shriek, and flew into the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The farther she got, the more terrified she became, and soon Christopher
+      heard her screaming in the drawing-room in an alarming way. They were like
+      the screams of the insane.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He got terribly anxious, and followed her. All the doors were open.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he went up-stairs, he heard her cry, &ldquo;His ghost! his ghost! I have seen
+      his ghost! No, no. I feel his hand upon my arm now. A beard! and so he had
+      in the dream! He is alive. My darling is alive. You have deceived me. You
+      are an impostor&mdash;a villain. Out of the house this moment, or he shall
+      kill you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you mad?&rdquo; cried Falcon. &ldquo;How can he be alive, when I saw him dead?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was too much. Staines gave the door a blow with his arm, and strode
+      into the apartment, looking white and tremendous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon saw death in his face; gave a shriek, drew his revolver, and fired
+      at him with as little aim as he had at the lioness; then made for the open
+      window. Staines seized a chair, followed him, and hurled it at him; and
+      the chair and the man went through the window together, and then there was
+      a strange thud heard outside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa gave a loud scream, and swooned away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines laid his wife flat on the floor, got the women about her, and at
+      last she began to give the usual signs of returning life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines said to the oldest woman there, &ldquo;If she sees me, she will go off
+      again. Carry her to her room; and tell her, by degrees, that I am alive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      All this time Papa Lusignan had sat trembling and whimpering in a chair,
+      moaning, &ldquo;This is a painful scene&mdash;very painful.&rdquo; But at last an idea
+      struck him&mdash;&ldquo;WHY, YOU HAVE ROBBED THE OFFICE!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Scarcely was Mrs. Staines out of the room, when a fly drove up, and this
+      was immediately followed by violent and continuous screaming close under
+      the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear!&rdquo; sighed Papa Lusignan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They ran down, and found Falcon impaled at full length on the spikes of
+      the villa, and Phoebe screaming over him, and trying in vain to lift him
+      off them. He had struggled a little, in silent terror, but had then
+      fainted from fear and loss of blood, and lying rather inside the rails,
+      which were high, he could not be extricated from the outside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As soon as his miserable condition was discovered, the servants ran down
+      into the kitchen, and so up to the rails by the area steps. These rails
+      had caught him; one had gone clean through his arm, the other had
+      penetrated the fleshy part of the thigh, and a third pierced his ear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They got him off; but he was insensible, and the place drenched with his
+      blood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe clutched Staines by the arm. &ldquo;Let me know the worst,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;Is
+      he dead?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines examined him, and said &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you save him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Who can, if you cannot? Oh, have mercy on me!&rdquo; and she went on her
+      knees to him, and put her forehead on his knees.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was touched by her simple faith; and the noble traditions of his
+      profession sided with his gratitude to this injured woman. &ldquo;My poor
+      friend,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I will do my best, for YOUR sake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took immediate steps for stanching the blood; and the fly carried
+      Phoebe and her villain to the inn at Gravesend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Falcon came to on the road; but finding himself alone with Phoebe, shammed
+      unconsciousness of everything but pain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines, being thoroughly enraged with Rosa, yet remembering his solemn
+      vow never to abuse her again, saw her father, and told him to tell her he
+      should think over her conduct quietly, not wishing to be harder upon her
+      than she deserved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa, who had been screaming, and crying for joy, ever since she came to
+      her senses, was not so much afflicted at this message as one might have
+      expected. He was alive, and all things else were trifles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nevertheless, when day after day went by, and not even a line from
+      Christopher, she began to fear he would cast her off entirely; the more so
+      as she heard he was now and then at Gravesend to visit Mrs. Falcon at the
+      inn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While matters were thus, Uncle Philip burst on her like a bomb. &ldquo;He is
+      alive! he is alive! he is alive!&rdquo; And they had a cuddle over it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Uncle Philip! Have you seen him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Seen him? Yes. He caught me on the hop, just as I came in from Italy. I
+      took him for a ghost.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, weren't you frightened?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a bit. I don't mind ghosts. I'd have half a dozen to dinner every
+      day, if I might choose 'em. I couldn't stand stupid ones. But I say, his
+      temper isn't improved by all this dying: he is in an awful rage with you;
+      and what for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O uncle! what for? Because I'm the vilest of women!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Vilest of fiddlesticks! It's his fault, not yours. Shouldn't have died.
+      It's always a dangerous experiment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall die if he will not forgive me. He keeps away from me and from his
+      child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll tell you. He heard, in Gravesend, your banns had been cried: that
+      has moved the peevish fellow's bile.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was done without my consent. Papa will tell you so; and, O uncle, if
+      you knew the arts, the forged letter in my darling's hand, the way he
+      wrought on me! O villain! villain! Uncle, forgive your poor silly niece,
+      that the world is too wicked and too clever for her to live in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because you are too good and innocent,&rdquo; said Uncle Philip. &ldquo;There, don't
+      you be down-hearted. I'll soon bring you two together again&mdash;a couple
+      of ninnies. I'll tell you what is the first thing: you must come and live
+      with me. Come at once, bag and baggage. He won't show here, the sulky
+      brute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Philip Staines had a large house in Cavendish Square, a crusty old
+      patient, like himself, had left him. It was his humor to live in a corner
+      of this mansion, though the whole was capitally furnished by his judicious
+      purchases at auctions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave Rosa and her boy and his nurse the entire first floor, and told
+      her she was there for life. &ldquo;Look here,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;this last affair has
+      opened my eyes. Such women as you are the sweeteners of existence. You
+      leave my roof no more. Your husband will make the same discovery. Let him
+      run about, and be miserable a bit. He will have to come to book.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She shook her head sadly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My Christopher will never say a harsh word to me. All the worse for me.
+      He will quietly abandon a creature so inferior to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stuff!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, she was always running to the window, in hope that Christopher would
+      call on his uncle, and that she might see him; and one day she gave a
+      scream so eloquent, Philip knew what it meant. &ldquo;Get you behind that
+      screen, you and your boy,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;and be as still as mice. Stop! give
+      me that letter the scoundrel forged, and the ring.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was hardly done, and Rosa out of sight, and trembling from head to
+      foot, when Christopher was announced. Philip received him very
+      affectionately, but wasted no time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Been to Kent Villa yet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; was the grim reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I have sworn never to say an angry word to her again; and, if I
+      was to go there, I should say a good many angry ones. Oh, when I think
+      that her folly drove me to sea, to do my best for her, and that I was
+      nearer death for that woman than ever man was, and lost my reason for her,
+      and went through toil and privations, hunger, exile, mainly for her, and
+      then to find the banns cried in open church, with that scoundrel!&mdash;say
+      no more, uncle. I shall never reproach her, and never forgive her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She was deceived.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't doubt that; but nobody has a right to be so great a fool as all
+      that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was not her folly, but her innocence, that was imposed on. You a
+      philosopher, and not know that wisdom itself is sometimes imposed on, and
+      deceived by cunning folly! Have you forgotten your Milton?&mdash;
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     &ldquo;'At Wisdom's gate, Suspicion sleeps,
+     And deems no ill where no ill seems.'
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, come! are you sure you are not a little to blame? Did you write
+      home the moment you found you were not dead?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher colored high.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Evidently not,&rdquo; said the keen old man. &ldquo;Ah, my fine fellow! have I found
+      the flaw in your own armor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did wrong, but it was for her. I sinned for her. I could not bear her
+      to be without money, and I knew the insurance&mdash;I sinned for her. She
+      has sinned AGAINST me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And she had much better have sinned against God, hadn't she? He is more
+      forgiving than we perfect creatures that cheat insurance companies. And
+      so, my fine fellow, you hid the truth from her for two or three months.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Strike off those two or three months; would the banns have ever been
+      cried?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, uncle,&rdquo; said Christopher, hard pressed, &ldquo;I am glad she has got a
+      champion; and I hope you will always keep your eye on her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; don't be in a hurry. I have something else to say, not so provoking.
+      Do you know the arts by which she was made to believe you wished her to
+      marry again?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wished her to marry again! Are you mad, uncle?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whose handwriting is on this envelope?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mine, to be sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, read the letter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Christopher read the forged letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, monstrous!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This was given her with your ruby ring, and a tale so artful that nothing
+      we read about the devil comes near it. This was what did it. The Earl of
+      Tadcaster brought her title, and wealth, and love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, he too! The little cub I saved, and lost myself for&mdash;blank
+      him! blank him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you stupid ninny! you forget you were dead; and he could not help
+      loving her. How could he? Well, but you see she refused him. And why?
+      because he came without a forged letter from YOU. Do you doubt her love
+      for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I do. She never loved me as I loved her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christopher, don't you say that before me, or you and I shall quarrel.
+      Poor girl! she lay, in my sight, as near death for you as you were for
+      her. I'll show you something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went to a cabinet, and took out a silver paper; he unpinned it, and
+      laid Rosa's beautiful black hair upon her husband's knees. &ldquo;Look at that,
+      you hard-hearted brute!&rdquo; he roared to Christopher, who sat, anything but
+      hard-hearted, his eyes filling fast, at the sad proof of his wife's love
+      and suffering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa could bear no more. She came out with her boy in her hand. &ldquo;O uncle,
+      do not speak harshly to him, or you will kill me quite!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She came across the room, a picture of timidity and penitence, with her
+      whole eloquent body bent forward at an angle. She kneeled at his knees,
+      with streaming eyes, and held her boy up to him: &ldquo;Plead for your poor
+      mother, my darling. She mourns her fault, and will never excuse it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The cause was soon decided. All Philip's logic was nothing, compared with
+      mighty nature. Christopher gave one great sob, and took his darling to his
+      heart, without one word; and he and Rosa clung together, and cried over
+      each other. Philip slipped out of the room, and left the restored ones
+      together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I have something more to say about my hero and heroine, but must first
+      deal with other characters, not wholly uninteresting to the reader, I
+      hope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines directed Phoebe Falcon how to treat her husband. No medicine,
+      no stimulants; very wholesome food, in moderation, and the temperature of
+      the body regulated by tepid water. Under these instructions, the injured
+      but still devoted wife was the real healer. He pulled through, but was
+      lame for life, and ridiculously lame, for he went with a spring halt,&mdash;a
+      sort of hop-and-go-one that made the girls laugh, and vexed Adonis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Phoebe found the diamonds, and offered them all to Staines, in expiation
+      of his villany. &ldquo;See,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;he has only spent one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines said he was glad of it, for her sake, for he must be just to his
+      own family. He sold them for three thousand two hundred pounds; but for
+      the big diamond he got twelve thousand pounds, and I believe it was worth
+      double the money.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Counting the two sums, and deducting six hundred for the stone Mr. Falcon
+      had embezzled, he gave her over seven thousand pounds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She stared at him, and changed color at so large a sum. &ldquo;But I have no
+      claim on that, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a good joke,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Why, you and I are partners in the whole
+      thing&mdash;you and I and Dick. Was it not with his horse and rifle I
+      bought the big diamond? Poor dear, honest, manly Dick! No, the money is
+      honestly yours, Mrs. Falcon; but don't trust a penny to your husband.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He will never see it, sir. I shall take him back, and give him all his
+      heart can ask for, with this; but he will be little more than a servant in
+      the house now, as long as Dick is single; I know that;&rdquo; and she could
+      still cry at the humiliation of her villain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Staines made her promise to write to him; and she did write him a sweet,
+      womanly letter, to say that they were making an enormous fortune, and
+      hoped to end their days in England. Dick sent his kind love and thanks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I will add, what she only said by implication, that she was happy after
+      all. She still contrived to love the thing she could not respect. Once,
+      when an officious friend pitied her for her husband's lameness, she said,
+      &ldquo;Find me a face like his. The lamer the better; he can't run after the
+      girls, like SOME.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Staines called on Lady Cicely Treherne; the footman stared. He left
+      his card.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A week afterwards, she called on him. She had a pink tinge in her cheeks,
+      a general animation, and her face full of brightness and archness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bless me!&rdquo; said he bluntly, &ldquo;is this you? How you are improved!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;and I am come to thank you for your pwescwiption: I
+      followed it to the lettaa.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Woe is me! I have forgotten it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You diwected me to mawwy a nice man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never: I hate a nice man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no&mdash;an Iwishman: and I have done it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good gracious! you don't mean that! I must be more cautious in my
+      prescriptions. After all, it seems to agree.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Admiwably.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He loves you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To distwaction.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He amuses you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pwodigiously. Come and see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. and Mrs. Staines live with Uncle Philip. The insurance money is
+      returned, but the diamond money makes them very easy. Staines follows his
+      profession now under great advantages: a noble house, rent free; the
+      curiosity that attaches to a man who has been canted out of a ship in
+      mid-ocean, and lives to tell it; and then Lord Tadcaster, married into
+      another noble house, swears by him, and talks of him; so does Lady Cicely
+      Munster, late Treherne; and when such friends as these are warm, it makes
+      a physician the centre of an important clientele; but his best friend of
+      all is his unflagging industry, and his truly wonderful diagnosis, which
+      resembles divination. He has the ball at his feet, and above all, that
+      without which worldly success soon palls, a happy home, a fireside warm
+      with sympathy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Staines is an admiring, sympathizing wife, and an admirable
+      housekeeper. She still utters inadvertencies now and then, commits new
+      errors at odd times, but never repeats them when exposed. Observing which
+      docility, Uncle Philip has been heard to express a fear that, in twenty
+      years, she will be the wisest woman in England. &ldquo;But, thank heaven!&rdquo; he
+      adds, &ldquo;I shall be gone before that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her conduct and conversation afford this cynic constant food for
+      observation; and he has delivered himself oracularly at various stages of
+      the study: but I cannot say that his observations, taken as a whole,
+      present that consistency which entitles them to be regarded as a body of
+      philosophy. Examples: In the second month after Mrs. Staines came to live
+      with him, he delivered himself thus: &ldquo;My niece Rosa is an anomaly. She
+      gives you the impression she is shallow. Mind your eye: in one moment she
+      will take you out of your depth or any man's depth. She is like those
+      country streams I used to fish for pike when I was young; you go along,
+      seeing the bottom everywhere; but presently you come to a corner, and it
+      is fifteen deep all in a moment, and souse you go over head and ears:
+      that's my niece Rosa.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In six months he had got to this&mdash;and, mind you, each successive
+      dogma was delivered in a loud, aggressive tone, and in sublime oblivion of
+      the preceding oracle&mdash;&ldquo;My niece Rosa is the most artful woman. (You
+      may haw! haw! haw! as much as you like. You have not found out her little
+      game&mdash;I have.) What is the aim of all women? To be beloved by an
+      unconscionable number of people. Well, she sets up for a simpleton, and so
+      disarms all the brilliant people, and they love her. Everybody loves her.
+      Just you put her down in a room with six clever women, and you will see
+      who is the favorite. She looks as shallow as a pond, and she is as deep as
+      the ocean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the end of the year he threw off the mask altogether. &ldquo;The great
+      sweetener of a man's life,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;is 'a simpleton.' I shall not go
+      abroad any more; my house has become attractive: I've got a simpleton.
+      When I have a headache, her eyes fill with tender concern, and she hovers
+      about me and pesters me with pillows: when I am cross with her, she is
+      afraid I am ill. When I die, and leave her a lot of money, she will howl
+      for months, and say I don't want his money: 'I waw-waw-waw-waw-want my
+      Uncle Philip, to love me, and scold me.' One day she told me, with a sigh,
+      I hadn't lectured her for a month. 'I am afraid I have offended you,' says
+      she, 'or else worn you out, dear.' When I am well, give me a simpleton, to
+      make me laugh. When I am ill, give me a simpleton to soothe me with her
+      innocent tenderness. A simpleton shall wipe the dews of death, and close
+      my eyes: and when I cross the river of death, let me be met by a band of
+      the heavenly host, who were all simpletons here on earth, and too good for
+      such a hole, so now they are in heaven, and their garments always white&mdash;because
+      there are no laundresses there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arrived at this point, the Anglo-Saxon race will retire, grinning, to
+      fresh pastures, and leave this champion of &ldquo;a Simpleton,&rdquo; to thunder
+      paradoxes in a desert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Simpleton, by Charles Reade
+
+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: A Simpleton
+
+Author: Charles Reade
+
+Release Date: May 16, 2006 [EBook #2301]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SIMPLETON ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Donald Lainson
+
+
+
+
+
+A SIMPLETON
+
+
+By Charles Reade
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+It has lately been objected to me, in studiously courteous terms of
+course, that I borrow from other books, and am a plagiarist. To this
+I reply that I borrow facts from every accessible source, and am not a
+plagiarist. The plagiarist is one who borrows from a homogeneous work:
+for such a man borrows not ideas only, but their treatment. He who
+borrows only from heterogeneous works is not a plagiarist. All fiction,
+worth a button, is founded on facts; and it does not matter one straw
+whether the facts are taken from personal experience, hearsay, or
+printed books; only those books must not be works of fiction.
+
+Ask your common sense why a man writes better fiction at forty than he
+can at twenty. It is simply because he has gathered more facts from each
+of these three sources,--experience, hearsay, print.
+
+To those who have science enough to appreciate the above distinction,
+I am very willing to admit that in all my tales I use a vast deal of
+heterogeneous material, which in a life of study I have gathered from
+men, journals, blue-books, histories, biographies, law reports, etc. And
+if I could, I would gladly specify all the various printed sources to
+which I am indebted. But my memory is not equal to such a feat. I can
+only say that I rarely write a novel without milking about two hundred
+heterogeneous cows into my pail, and that "A Simpleton" is no exception
+to my general method; that method is the true method, and the best, and
+if on that method I do not write prime novels, it is the fault of the
+man, and not of the method.
+
+I give the following particulars as an illustration of my method:
+
+In "A Simpleton," the whole business of the girl spitting blood, the
+surgeon ascribing it to the liver, the consultation, the final solution
+of the mystery, is a matter of personal experience accurately recorded.
+But the rest of the medical truths, both fact and argument, are all from
+medical books far too numerous to specify. This includes the strange
+fluctuations of memory in a man recovering his reason by degrees. The
+behavior of the doctor's first two patients I had from a surgeon's
+daughter in Pimlico. The servant-girl and her box; the purple-faced,
+pig-faced Beak and his justice, are personal experience. The business of
+house-renting, and the auction-room, is also personal experience.
+
+In the nautical business I had the assistance of two practical seamen:
+my brother, William Barrington Reade, and Commander Charles Edward
+Reade, R.N.
+
+In the South African business I gleaned from Mr. Day's recent handbooks;
+the old handbooks; Galton's "Vacation Tourist;" "Philip Mavor; or, Life
+among the Caffres;" "Fossor;" "Notes on the Cape of Good Hope," 1821;
+"Scenes and Occurrences in Albany and Caffre-land," 1827; Bowler's
+"South African Sketches;" "A Campaign in South Africa," Lucas; "Five
+Years in Caffre-land," Mrs. Ward; etc., etc., etc. But my principal
+obligation on this head is to Mr. Boyle, the author of some admirable
+letters to the Daily telegraph, which he afterwards reprinted in a
+delightful volume. Mr. Boyle has a painter's eye, and a writer's pen,
+and if the African scenes in "A Simpleton" please my readers, I hope
+they will go to the fountain-head, where they will find many more.
+
+As to the plot and characters, they are invented.
+
+The title, "A Simpleton," is not quite new. There is a French
+play called La Niaise. But La Niaise is in reality a woman of rare
+intelligence, who is taken for a simpleton by a lot of conceited fools,
+and the play runs on their blunders, and her unpretending wisdom. That
+is a very fine plot, which I recommend to our female novelists. My aim
+in these pages has been much humbler, and is, I hope, too clear to need
+explanation.
+
+CHARLES READE.
+
+
+
+
+A SIMPLETON.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+A young lady sat pricking a framed canvas in the drawing-room of Kent
+Villa, a mile from Gravesend; she was making, at a cost of time and
+tinted wool, a chair cover, admirably unfit to be sat upon--except by
+some severe artist, bent on obliterating discordant colors. To do her
+justice, her mind was not in her work; for she rustled softly with
+restlessness as she sat, and she rose three times in twenty minutes, and
+went to the window. Thence she looked down, over a trim flowery
+lawn, and long, sloping meadows, on to the silver Thames, alive with
+steamboats ploughing, white sails bellying, and great ships carrying to
+and fro the treasures of the globe. From this fair landscape and epitome
+of commerce she retired each time with listless disdain; she was waiting
+for somebody.
+
+Yet she was one of those whom few men care to keep waiting. Rosa
+Lusignan was a dark but dazzling beauty, with coal-black hair, and
+glorious dark eyes, that seemed to beam with soul all day long; her
+eyebrows, black, straightish, and rather thick, would have been majestic
+and too severe, had the other features followed suit; but her black
+brows were succeeded by long silky lashes, a sweet oval face, two
+pouting lips studded with ivory, and an exquisite chin, as feeble as any
+man could desire in the partner of his bosom. Person--straight, elastic,
+and rather tall. Mind--nineteen. Accomplishments--numerous; a poor
+French scholar, a worse German, a worse English, an admirable dancer,
+an inaccurate musician, a good rider, a bad draughtswoman, a bad
+hairdresser, at the mercy of her maid; a hot theologian, knowing
+nothing, a sorry accountant, no housekeeper, no seamstress, a fair
+embroideress, a capital geographer, and no cook.
+
+Collectively, viz., mind and body, the girl we kneel to.
+
+This ornamental member of society now glanced at the clock once more,
+and then glided to the window for the fourth time. She peeped at the
+side a good while, with superfluous slyness or shyness, and presently
+she drew back, blushing crimson; then she peeped again, still more
+furtively; then retired softly to her frame, and, for the first time,
+set to work in earnest. As she plied her harpoon, smiling now, the large
+and vivid blush, that had suffused her face and throat, turned from
+carnation to rose, and melted away slowly, but perceptibly, and ever so
+sweetly; and somebody knocked at the street door.
+
+The blow seemed to drive her deeper into her work. She leaned over it,
+graceful as a willow, and so absorbed, she could not even see the door
+of the room open and Dr. Staines come in.
+
+All the better: her not perceiving that slight addition to her furniture
+gives me a moment to describe him.
+
+A young man, five feet eleven inches high, very square shouldered and
+deep chested, but so symmetrical, and light in his movements, that his
+size hardly struck one at first. He was smooth shaved, all but a short,
+thick, auburn whisker; his hair was brown. His features no more then
+comely: the brow full, the eyes wide apart and deep-seated, the lips
+rather thin, but expressive, the chin solid and square. It was a face
+of power, and capable of harshness; but relieved by an eye of unusual
+color, between hazel and gray, and wonderfully tender. In complexion
+he could not compare with Rosa; his cheek was clear, but pale; for
+few young men had studied night and day so constantly. Though but
+twenty-eight years of age, he was literally a learned physician; deep in
+hospital practice; deep in books; especially deep in German science,
+too often neglected or skimmed by English physicians. He had delivered a
+course of lectures at a learned university with general applause.
+
+As my reader has divined, Rosa was preparing the comedy of a cool
+reception; but looking up, she saw his pale cheek tinted with a lover's
+beautiful joy at the bare sight of her, and his soft eye so divine with
+love, that she had not the heart to chill him. She gave him her hand
+kindly, and smiled brightly on him instead of remonstrating. She lost
+nothing by it, for the very first thing he did was to excuse himself
+eagerly. "I am behind time: the fact is, just as I was mounting my
+horse, a poor man came to the gate to consult me. He had a terrible
+disorder I have sometimes succeeded in arresting--I attack the cause
+instead of the symptoms, which is the old practice--and so that detained
+me. You forgive me?"
+
+"Of course. Poor man!--only you said you wanted to see papa, and he
+always goes out at two."
+
+When she had been betrayed into saying this, she drew in suddenly, and
+blushed with a pretty consciousness.
+
+"Then don't let me lose another minute," said the lover. "Have you
+prepared him for--for--what I am going to have the audacity to say?"
+
+Rosa answered, with some hesitation, "I MUST have--a little. When I
+refused Colonel Bright--you need not devour my hand quite--he is forty."
+
+Her sentence ended, and away went the original topic, and grammatical
+sequence along with it. Christopher Staines recaptured them both. "Yes,
+dear, when you refused Colonel Bright"--
+
+"Well, papa was astonished; for everybody says the colonel is a most
+eligible match. Don't you hate that expression? I do. Eligible!"
+
+Christopher made due haste, and recaptured her. "Yes, love, your papa
+said"--
+
+"I don't think I will tell you. He asked me was there anybody else; and
+of course I said 'No.'"
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Oh, that is nothing; I had not time to make up my mind to tell the
+truth. I was taken by surprise; and you know one's first impulse is to
+fib--about THAT."
+
+"But did you really deceive him?"
+
+"No, I blushed; and he caught me; so he said, 'Come, now, there was.'"
+
+"And you said, 'Yes, there is,' like a brave girl as you are."
+
+"What, plump like that? No, I was frightened out of my wits, like a
+brave girl as I am not, and said I should never marry any one he could
+disapprove; and then--oh, then I believe I began to cry. Christopher,
+I'll tell you something; I find people leave off teasing you when you
+cry--gentlemen, I mean. Ladies go on all the more. So then dear papa
+kissed me, and told me I must not be imprudent, and throw myself away,
+that was all; and I promised him I never would. I said he would be sure
+to approve my choice; and he said he hoped so. And so he will."
+
+Dr. Staines looked thoughtful, and said he hoped so too. "But now
+it comes to the point of asking him for such a treasure, I feel my
+deficiencies."
+
+"Why, what deficiencies? You are young, and handsome, and good, and ever
+so much cleverer than other people. You have only to ask for me, and
+insist on having me. Come, dear, go and get it over." She added, mighty
+coolly, "There is nothing so DREADFUL as suspense."
+
+"I'll go this minute," said he, and took a step towards the door; but he
+turned, and in a moment was at her knees. He took both her hands in his,
+and pressed them to his beating bosom, while his beautiful eyes poured
+love into hers point-blank. "May I tell him you love me? Oh, I know you
+cannot love me as I love you; but I may say you love me a little, may I
+not?--that will go farther with him than anything else. May I, Rosa, may
+I?--a little?"
+
+His passion mastered her. She dropped her head sweetly on his shoulder,
+and murmured, "You know you may, my own. Who would not love you?"
+
+He parted lingeringly from her, then marched away, bold with love and
+hope, to demand her hand in marriage.
+
+Rosa leaned back in her chair, and quivered a little with new emotions.
+Christopher was right; she was not capable of loving like him; but
+still the actual contact of so strong a passion made her woman's nature
+vibrate. A dewy tear hung on the fringes of her long lashes, and she
+leaned back in her chair and fluttered awhile.
+
+That emotion, almost new to her, soon yielded, in her girlish mind, to a
+complacent languor; and that, in its turn, to a soft reverie. So she was
+going to be married! To be mistress of a house; settle in London (THAT
+she had quite determined long ago); be able to go out into the streets
+all alone, to shop, or visit; have a gentleman all her own, whom she
+could put her finger on any moment and make him take her about, even to
+the opera and the theatre; to give dinner-parties her own self, and even
+a little ball once in a way; to buy whatever dresses she thought proper,
+instead of being crippled by an allowance; have the legal right of
+speaking first in society, even to gentlemen rich in ideas but bad
+starters, instead of sitting mumchance and mock-modest; to be Mistress,
+instead of Miss--contemptible title; to be a woman, instead of a girl;
+and all this rational liberty, domestic power, and social dignity were
+to be obtained by merely wedding a dear fellow, who loved her, and was
+so nice; and the bright career to be ushered in with several delights,
+each of them dear to a girl's very soul: presents from all her friends;
+as many beautiful new dresses as if she was changing her body or her
+hemisphere, instead of her name; eclat; going to church, which is a
+good English girl's theatre of display and temple of vanity, and there
+tasting delightful publicity and whispered admiration, in a heavenly
+long veil, which she could not wear even once if she remained single.
+
+This bright variegated picture of holy wedlock, and its essential
+features, as revealed to young ladies by feminine tradition, though not
+enumerated in the Book of Common Prayer writ by grim males, so entranced
+her, that time flew by unheeded, and Christopher Staines came back from
+her father. His step was heavy; he looked pale, and deeply distressed;
+then stood like a statue, and did not come close to her, but cast a
+piteous look, and gasped out one word, that seemed almost to choke
+him,--"REFUSED!"
+
+Miss Lusignan rose from her chair, and looked almost wildly at him with
+her great eyes. "Refused?" said she, faintly.
+
+"Yes," said he, sadly. "Your father is a man of business; and he took
+a mere business view of our love: he asked me directly what provision
+I could make for his daughter and her children. Well, I told him I had
+three thousand pounds in the Funds, and a good profession; and then I
+said I had youth, health, and love, boundless love, the love that can
+do, or suffer, the love that can conquer the world."
+
+"Dear Christopher! And what COULD he say to all that?"
+
+"He ignored it entirely. There! I'll give you his very words. He said,
+'In that case, Dr. Staines, the simple question is, what does your
+profession bring you in per annum?'"
+
+"Oh! There! I always hated arithmetic, and now I abominate it."
+
+"Then I was obliged to confess I had scarcely received a hundred pounds
+in fees this year; but I told him the reason; this is such a small
+district, and all the ground occupied. London, I said, was my sphere."
+
+"And so it is," said Rosa, eagerly; for this jumped with her own little
+designs. "Genius is wasted in the country. Besides, whenever anybody
+worth curing is ill down here, they always send to London for a doctor."
+
+"I told him so, dearest," said the lover. "But he answered me directly,
+then I must set up in London, and as soon as my books showed an income
+to keep a wife, and servants, and children, and insure my life for five
+thousand pounds"--
+
+"Oh, that is so like papa. He is director of an insurance company, so
+all the world must insure their lives."
+
+"No, dear, he was quite right there: professional incomes are most
+precarious. Death spares neither young nor old, neither warm hearts
+nor cold. I should be no true physician if I could not see my own
+mortality." He hung his head and pondered a moment, then went on, sadly,
+"It all comes to this--until I have a professional income of eight
+hundred a year at least, he will not hear of our marrying; and the cruel
+thing is, he will not even consent to an engagement. But," said the
+rejected, with a look of sad anxiety, "you will wait for me without
+that, dear Rosa?"
+
+She could give him that comfort, and she gave it him with loving
+earnestness. "Of course I will; and it shall not be very long. Whilst
+you are making your fortune, to please papa, I will keep fretting, and
+pouting, and crying, till he sends for you."
+
+"Bless you, dearest! Stop!--not to make yourself ill! not for all the
+world." The lover and the physician spoke in turn.
+
+He came, all gratitude, to her side, and they sat, hand in hand,
+comforting each other: indeed, parting was such sweet sorrow that they
+sat, handed, and very close to one another, till Mr. Lusignan, who
+thought five minutes quite enough for rational beings to take leave in,
+walked into the room and surprised them. At sight of his gray head and
+iron-gray eyebrows, Christopher Staines started up and looked confused;
+he thought some apology necessary, so he faltered out, "Forgive me, sir;
+it is a bitter parting to me, you may be sure."
+
+Rosa's bosom heaved at these simple words. She flew to her father,
+and cried, "Oh, papa! papa! you were never cruel before;" and hid her
+burning face on his shoulder; and then burst out crying, partly for
+Christopher, partly because she was now ashamed of herself for having
+taken a young man's part so openly.
+
+Mr. Lusignan looked sadly discomposed at this outburst: she had taken
+him by his weak point; he told her so. "Now, Rosa," said he, rather
+peevishly, "you know I hate--noise."
+
+Rosa had actually forgotten that trait for a single moment; but, being
+reminded of it, she reduced her sobs in the prettiest way, not to offend
+a tender parent who could not bear noise. Under this homely term, you
+must know, he included all scenes, disturbances, rumpuses, passions; and
+expected all men, women, and things in Kent Villa to go smoothly--or go
+elsewhere.
+
+"Come, young people," said he, "don't make a disturbance. Where's the
+grievance? Have I said he shall never marry you? Have I forbidden him
+to correspond? or even to call, say twice a year. All I say is, no
+marriage, nor contract of marriage, until there is an income." Then he
+turned to Christopher. "Now if you can't make an income without her, how
+could you make one with her, weighed down by the load of expenses a wife
+entails? I know her better than you do; she is a good girl, but rather
+luxurious and self-indulgent. She is not cut out for a poor man's wife.
+And pray don't go and fancy that nobody loves my child but you. Mine is
+not so hot as yours, of course; but believe me, sir, it is less selfish.
+You would expose her to poverty and misery; but I say no; it is my duty
+to protect her from all chance of them; and, in doing it, I am as much
+your friend as hers, if you could but see it. Come, Dr. Staines, be
+a man, and see the world as it is. I have told you how to earn my
+daughter's hand and my esteem: you must gain both, or neither."
+
+Dr. Staines was never quite deaf to reason: he now put his hand to his
+brow and said, with a sort of wonder and pitiful dismay, "My love
+for Rosa selfish! Sir, your words are bitter and hard." Then, after a
+struggle, and with rare and touching candor, "Ay, but so are bark and
+steel; yet they are good medicines." Then with a great glow in his heart
+and tears in his eyes, "My darling shall not be a poor man's wife,
+she who would adorn a coronet, ay, or a crown. Good-by, Rosa, for the
+present." He darted to her, and kissed her hand with all his soul. "Oh,
+the sacrifice of leaving you," he faltered; "the very world is dark
+to me without you. Ah, well, I must earn the right to come again." He
+summoned all his manhood, and marched to the door. There he seemed to
+turn calmer all of a sudden, and said firmly, yet humbly, "I'll try and
+show you, sir, what love can do."
+
+"And I'll show you what love can suffer," said Rosa, folding her
+beautiful arms superbly.
+
+It was not in her to have shot such a bolt, except in imitation; yet how
+promptly the mimic thunder came, and how grand the beauty looked, with
+her dark brows, and flashing eyes, and folded arms! much grander and
+more inspired than poor Staines, who had only furnished the idea.
+
+But between these two figures swelling with emotion, the representative
+of common sense, Lusignan pere, stood cool and impassive; he shrugged
+his shoulders, and looked on both lovers as a couple of ranting novices
+he was saving from each other and almshouses.
+
+For all that, when the lover had torn himself away, papa's composure was
+suddenly disturbed by a misgiving. He stepped hastily to the stairhead,
+and gave it vent. "Dr. Staines," said he, in a loud whisper (Staines was
+half way down the stairs: he stopped). "I trust to you as a gentleman,
+not to mention this; it will never transpire here. Whatever we do--no
+noise!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Rosa Lusignan set herself pining as she had promised; and she did it
+discreetly for so young a person. She was never peevish, but always sad
+and listless. By this means she did not anger her parent, but only made
+him feel she was unhappy, and the house she had hitherto brightened
+exceeding dismal.
+
+By degrees this noiseless melancholy undermined the old gentleman, and
+he well-nigh tottered.
+
+But one day, calling suddenly on a neighbor with six daughters, he heard
+peals of laughter, and found Rosa taking her full share of the senseless
+mirth. She pulled up short at sight of him, and colored high; but it
+was too late, for he launched a knowing look at her on the spot, and
+muttered something about seven foolish virgins.
+
+He took the first opportunity, when they were alone, and told her he was
+glad to find she was only dismal at home.
+
+But Rosa had prepared for him. "One can be loud without being gay at
+heart," said she, with a lofty, languid air. "I have not forgotten your
+last words to HIM. We were to hide our broken hearts from the world. I
+try to obey you, dear papa; but, if I had my way, I would never go
+into the world at all. I have but one desire now--to end my days in a
+convent."
+
+"Please begin them first. A convent! Why, you'd turn it out of window.
+You are no more fit to be a nun than--a pauper."
+
+Not having foreseen this facer, Rosa had nothing ready; so she received
+it with a sad, submissive, helpless sigh, as who would say, "Hit me,
+papa: I have no friend now." So then he was sorry he had been so clever;
+and, indeed, there is one provoking thing about "a woman's weakness"--it
+is invincible.
+
+The next minute, what should come but a long letter from Dr. Staines,
+detailing his endeavors to purchase a practice in London, and his
+ill-success. The letter spoke the language of love and hope; but the
+facts were discouraging; and, indeed, a touching sadness pierced through
+the veil of the brave words.
+
+Rosa read it again and again, and cried over it before her father, to
+encourage him in his heartless behavior.
+
+About ten days after this, something occurred that altered her mood.
+
+She became grave and thoughtful, but no longer lugubrious. She seemed
+desirous to atone to her father for having disturbed his cheerfulness.
+She smiled affectionately on him, and often sat on a stool at his knee,
+and glided her hand into his.
+
+He was not a little pleased, and said to himself, "She is coming round
+to common-sense."
+
+Now, on the contrary, she was farther from it than ever.
+
+At last he got the clew. One afternoon he met Mr. Wyman coming out of
+the villa. Mr. Wyman was the consulting surgeon of that part.
+
+"What! anybody ill?" said Mr. Lusignan. "One of the servants?"
+
+"No; it is Miss Lusignan."
+
+"Why, what is the matter with her?"
+
+Wyman hesitated. "Oh, nothing very alarming. Would you mind asking her?"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"The fact is, she requested me not to tell you: made me promise."
+
+"And I insist upon your telling me."
+
+"And I think you are quite right, sir, as her father. Well, she is
+troubled with a little spitting of blood."
+
+Mr. Lusignan turned pale. "My child! spitting of blood! God forbid!"
+
+"Oh, do not alarm yourself. It is nothing serious."
+
+"Don't tell me!" said the father. "It is always serious. And she kept
+this from me!"
+
+Masking his agitation for the time, he inquired how often it had
+occurred, this grave symptom.
+
+"Three or four times this last month. But I may as well tell you at
+once: I have examined her carefully, and I do not think it is from the
+lungs."
+
+"From the throat, then?"
+
+"No; from the liver. Everything points to that organ as the seat
+of derangement: not that there is any lesion; only a tendency to
+congestion. I am treating her accordingly, and have no doubt of the
+result."
+
+"Who is the ablest physician hereabouts?" asked Lusignan, abruptly.
+
+"Dr. Snell, I think."
+
+"Give me his address."
+
+"I'll write to him, if you like, and appoint a consultation." He added,
+with vast but rather sudden alacrity, "It will be a great satisfaction
+to my own mind."
+
+"Then send to him, if you please, and let him be here to-morrow morning;
+if not, I shall take her to London for advice at once."
+
+On this understanding they parted, and Lusignan went at once to his
+daughter. "O my child!" said he, deeply distressed, "how could you hide
+this from me?"
+
+"Hide what, papa?" said the girl, looking the picture of
+unconsciousness.
+
+"That you have been spitting blood."
+
+"Who told you that?" said she, sharply.
+
+"Wyman. He is attending you."
+
+Rosa colored with anger. "Chatterbox! He promised me faithfully not to."
+
+"But why, in Heaven's name? What! would you trust this terrible thing to
+a stranger, and hide it from your poor father?"
+
+"Yes," replied Rosa, quietly.
+
+The old man would not scold her now; he only said, sadly, "I see how it
+is: because I will not let you marry poverty, you think I do not love
+you." And he sighed.
+
+"O papa! the idea!" said Rosa. "Of course, I know you love me. It was
+not that, you dear, darling, foolish papa. There! if you must know, it
+was because I did not want you to be distressed. I thought I might get
+better with a little physic; and, if not, why, then I thought, 'Papa is
+an old man; la! I dare say I shall last his time;' and so, why should I
+poison your latter days with worrying about ME?"
+
+Mr. Lusignan stared at her, and his lip quivered; but he thought the
+trait hardly consistent with her superficial character. He could not
+help saying, half sadly, half bitterly, "Well, but of course you have
+told Dr. Staines."
+
+Rosa opened her beautiful eyes, like two suns. "Of course I have done
+nothing of the sort. He has enough to trouble him, without that. Poor
+fellow! there he is, worrying and striving to make his fortune, and gain
+your esteem--'they go together,' you know; you told him so." (Young cats
+will scratch when least expected.) "And for me to go and tell him I am
+in danger! Why, he would go wild. He would think of nothing but me and
+my health. He would never make his fortune: and so then, even when I
+am gone, he will never get a wife, because he has only got genius and
+goodness and three thousand pounds. No, papa, I have not told poor
+Christopher. I may tease those I love. I have been teasing YOU this ever
+so long; but frighten them, and make them miserable? No!"
+
+And here, thinking of the anguish that was perhaps in store for those
+she loved, she wanted to cry; it almost choked her not to. But she
+fought it bravely down: she reserved her tears for lighter occasions and
+less noble sentiments.
+
+Her father held out his arms to her. She ran her footstool to him, and
+sat nestling to his heart.
+
+"Please forgive me my misconduct. I have not been a dutiful daughter
+ever since you--but now I will. Kiss me, my own papa! There! Now we are
+as we always were."
+
+Then she purred to him on every possible topic but the one that now
+filled his parental heart, and bade him good-night at last with a
+cheerful smile.
+
+Wyman was exact, and ten minutes afterwards Dr. Snell drove up in a
+carriage and pair. He was intercepted in the hall by Wyman, and, after a
+few minutes' conversation, presented to Mr. Lusignan.
+
+The father gave vent to his paternal anxiety in a few simple but
+touching words, and was proceeding to state the symptoms as he had
+gathered them from his daughter; but Dr. Snell interrupted him politely,
+and said he had heard the principal symptoms from Mr. Wyman. Then,
+turning to the latter, he said, "We had better proceed to examine the
+patient."
+
+"Certainly," said Mr. Lusignan. "She is in the drawing-room;" and he led
+the way, and was about to enter the room, when Wyman informed him it was
+against etiquette for him to be present at the examination.
+
+"Oh, very well!" said he. "Yes, I see the propriety of that. But oblige
+me by asking her if she has anything on her mind."
+
+Dr. Snell bowed a lofty assent; for, to receive a hint from a layman was
+to confer a favor on him.
+
+The men of science were closeted full half an hour with the patient. She
+was too beautiful to be slurred over, even by a busy doctor: he felt her
+pulse, looked at her tongue, and listened attentively to her lungs, to
+her heart, and to the organ suspected by Wyman. He left her at last with
+a kindly assurance that the case was perfectly curable.
+
+At the door they were met by the anxious father, who came with throbbing
+heart, and asked the doctors' verdict.
+
+He was coolly informed that could not be given until the consultation
+had taken place; the result of that consultation would be conveyed to
+him.
+
+"And pray, why can't I be present at the consultation? The grounds on
+which two able men agree or disagree must be well worth listening to."
+
+"No doubt," said Dr. Snell; "but," with a superior smile, "my dear sir,
+it is not the etiquette."
+
+"Oh, very well," said Lusignan. But he muttered, "So, then, a father is
+nobody!"
+
+And this unreasonable person retired to his study, miserable, and gave
+up the dining-room to the consultation.
+
+They soon rejoined him.
+
+Dr. Snell's opinion was communicated by Wyman. "I am happy to tell you
+that Dr. Snell agrees with me, entirely: the lungs are not affected, and
+the liver is congested, but not diseased."
+
+"Is that so, Dr. Snell?" asked Lusignan, anxiously.
+
+"It is so, sir." He added, "The treatment has been submitted to me, and
+I quite approve it."
+
+He then asked for a pen and paper, and wrote a prescription. He assured
+Mr. Lusignan that the case had no extraordinary feature, whatever; he
+was not to alarm himself. Dr. Snell then drove away, leaving the parent
+rather puzzled, but, on the whole, much comforted.
+
+And here I must reveal an extraordinary circumstance.
+
+Wyman's treatment was by drugs.
+
+Dr. Snell's was by drugs.
+
+Dr. Snell, as you have seen, entirely approved Wyman's treatment.
+
+His own had nothing in common with it. The Arctic and Antarctic poles
+are not farther apart than was his prescription from the prescription he
+thoroughly approved.
+
+Amiable science! In which complete diversity of practice did not
+interfere with perfect uniformity of opinion.
+
+All this was kept from Dr. Staines, and he was entirely occupied in
+trying to get a position that might lead to fortune, and satisfy Mr.
+Lusignan. He called on every friend he had, to inquire where there was
+an opening. He walked miles and miles in the best quarters of London,
+looking for an opening; he let it be known in many quarters that he
+would give a good premium to any physician who was about to retire, and
+would introduce him to his patients.
+
+No: he could hear of nothing.
+
+Then, after a great struggle with himself, he called upon his uncle,
+Philip Staines, a retired M.D., to see if he would do anything for him.
+He left this to the last, for a very good reason: Dr. Philip was an
+irritable old bachelor, who had assisted most of his married relatives;
+but, finding no bottom to the well, had turned rusty and crusty, and now
+was apt to administer kicks instead of checks to all who were near and
+dear to him. However, Christopher was the old gentleman's favorite, and
+was now desperate; so he mustered courage, and went. He was graciously
+received--warmly, indeed. This gave him great hopes, and he told his
+tale.
+
+The old bachelor sided with Mr. Lusignan. "What!" said he, "do you
+want to marry, and propagate pauperism? I thought you had more sense.
+Confound it all I had just one nephew whose knock at my street-door did
+not make me tremble; he was a bachelor and a thinker, and came for a
+friendly chat; the rest are married men, highwaymen, who come to say,
+'Stand and deliver;' and now even you want to join the giddy throng.
+Well, don't ask me to have any hand in it. You are a man of promise; and
+you might as well hang a millstone round your neck as a wife. Marriage
+is a greater mistake than ever now; the women dress more and manage
+worse. I met your cousin Jack the other day, and his wife with seventy
+pounds on her back; and next door to paupers. No; whilst you are a
+bachelor, like me, you are my favorite, and down in my will for a lump.
+Once marry, and you join the noble army of foot-pads, leeches, vultures,
+paupers, gone coons, and babblers about brats--and I disown you."
+
+There was no hope from old Crusty. Christopher left him, snubbed and
+heart-sick. At last he met a sensible man, who made him see there was
+no short cut in that profession. He must be content to play the up-hill
+game; must settle in some good neighborhood; marry, if possible, since
+husbands and fathers of families prefer married physicians; and so be
+poor at thirty, comfortable at forty, and rich at fifty--perhaps.
+
+Then Christopher came down to his lodgings at Gravesend, and was very
+unhappy; and after some days of misery, he wrote a letter to Rosa in a
+moment of impatience, despondency, and passion.
+
+Rosa Lusignan got worse and worse. The slight but frequent hemorrhage
+was a drain upon her system, and weakened her visibly. She began to lose
+her rich complexion, and sometimes looked almost sallow; and a slight
+circle showed itself under her eyes. These symptoms were unfavorable;
+nevertheless, Dr. Snell and Mr. Wyman accepted them cheerfully, as fresh
+indications that nothing was affected but the liver; they multiplied and
+varied their prescriptions; the malady ignored those prescriptions, and
+went steadily on. Mr. Lusignan was terrified but helpless. Rosa resigned
+and reticent.
+
+But it was not in human nature that a girl of this age could always and
+at all hours be mistress of herself. One evening in particular she stood
+before the glass in the drawing-room, and looked at herself a long
+time with horror. "Is that Rosa Lusignan?" said she, aloud; "it is her
+ghost."
+
+A deep groan startled her. She turned; it was her father. She thought he
+was fast asleep; and so indeed he had been; but he was just awaking, and
+heard his daughter utter her real mind. It was a thunder-clap. "Oh, my
+child! what shall I do?" he cried.
+
+Then Rosa was taken by surprise in her turn. She spoke out. "Send for
+a great physician, papa. Don't let us deceive ourselves; it is our only
+chance."
+
+"I will ask Mr. Wyman to get a physician down from London."
+
+"No, no; that is no use; they will put their heads together, and he will
+say whatever Mr. Wyman tells him. La! papa, a clever man like you, not
+to see what a cheat that consultation was. Why, from what you told me,
+one can see it was managed so that Dr. Snell could not possibly have an
+opinion of his own. No; no more echoes of Mr. Chatterbox. If you really
+want to cure me, send for Christopher Staines."
+
+"Dr. Staines! he is very young."
+
+"But he is very clever, and he is not an echo. He won't care how many
+doctors he contradicts when I am in danger. Papa, it is your child's one
+chance."
+
+"I'll try it," said the old man, eagerly. "How confident you look! your
+color has come back. It is an inspiration. Where is he?"
+
+"I think by this time he must be at his lodgings in Gravesend. Send to
+him to-morrow morning."
+
+"Not I! I'll go to him to-night. It is only a mile, and a fine clear
+night."
+
+"My own, good, kind papa! Ah! well, come what may, I have lived long
+enough to be loved. Yes, dear papa, save me. I am very young to die; and
+he loves me so dearly."
+
+The old man bustled away to put on something warmer for his night walk,
+and Rosa leaned back, and the tears welled out of her eyes, now he was
+gone.
+
+Before she had recovered her composure, a letter was brought her, and
+this was the letter from Christopher Staines, alluded to already.
+
+She took it from the servant with averted head, not wishing it to be
+seen she had been crying, and she started at the handwriting; it seemed
+such a coincidence that it should come just as she was sending for him.
+
+
+MY OWN BELOVED ROSA,--I now write to tell you, with a heavy heart, that
+all is vain. I cannot make, nor purchase, a connection, except as others
+do, by time and patience. Being a bachelor is quite against a young
+physician. If I had a wife, and such a wife as you, I should be sure
+to get on; you would increase my connection very soon. What, then,
+lies before us? I see but two things--to wait till we are old, and our
+pockets are filled, but our hearts chilled or soured; or else to marry
+at once, and climb the hill together. If you love me as I love you, you
+will be saving till the battle is over; and I feel I could find energy
+and fortitude for both. Your father, who thinks so much of wealth, can
+surely settle something on YOU; and I am not too poor to furnish a house
+and start fair. I am not quite obscure--my lectures have given me a
+name--and to you, my own love, I hope I may say that I know more than
+many of my elders, thanks to good schools, good method, a genuine love
+of my noble profession, and a tendency to study from my childhood. Will
+you not risk something on my ability? If not, God help me, for I shall
+lose you; and what is life, or fame, or wealth, or any mortal thing to
+me, without you? I cannot accept your father's decision; YOU must decide
+my fate.
+
+You see I have kept away from you until I can do so no more. All this
+time the world to me has seemed to want the sun, and my heart pines and
+sickens for one sight of you.
+
+Darling Rosa, pray let me look at your face once more.
+
+When this reaches you I shall be at your gate. Let me see you, though
+but for a moment, and let me hear my fate from no lips but yours.--My
+own love, your heart-broken lover,
+
+CHRISTOPHER STAINES.
+
+
+This letter stunned her at first. Her mind of late had been turned away
+from love to such stern realities. Now she began to be sorry she had not
+told him. "Poor thing!" she said to herself, "he little knows that now
+all is changed. Papa, I sometimes think, would deny me nothing now; it
+is I who would not marry him--to be buried by him in a month or two.
+Poor Christopher!"
+
+The next moment she started up in dismay. Why, her father would miss
+him. No; perhaps catch him waiting for her. What would he think? What
+would Christopher think?--that she had shown her papa his letter.
+
+She rang the bell hard. The footman came.
+
+"Send Harriet to me this instant. Oh, and ask papa to come to me."
+
+Then she sat down and dashed off a line to Christopher. This was for
+Harriet to take out to him. Anything better than for Christopher to be
+caught doing what was wrong.
+
+The footman came back first. "If you please, miss, master has gone out."
+
+"Run after him--the road to Gravesend."
+
+"Yes, miss."
+
+"No. It is no use. Never mind."
+
+"Yes, miss."
+
+Then Harriet came in. "Did you want me, miss?"
+
+"Yes. No--never mind now."
+
+She was afraid to do anything for fear of making matters worse. She went
+to the window, and stood looking anxiously out, with her hands working.
+Presently she uttered a little scream and shrank away to the sofa. She
+sank down on it, half sitting, half lying, hid her face in her hands,
+and waited.
+
+
+Staines, with a lover's impatience, had been more than an hour at the
+gate, or walking up and down close by it, his heart now burning with
+hope, now freezing with fear, that she would decline a meeting on these
+terms.
+
+At last the postman came, and then he saw he was too soon; but now in
+a few minutes Rosa would have his letter, and then he should soon know
+whether she would come or not. He looked up at the drawing-room windows.
+They were full of light. She was there in all probability. Yet she did
+not come to them. But why should she, if she was coming out?
+
+He walked up and down the road. She did not come. His heart began to
+sicken with doubt. His head drooped; and perhaps it was owing to this
+that he almost ran against a gentleman who was coming the other way. The
+moon shone bright on both faces.
+
+"Dr. Staines!" said Mr. Lusignan surprised. Christopher uttered an
+ejaculation more eloquent than words.
+
+They stared at each other.
+
+"You were coming to call on us?"
+
+"N--no," stammered Christopher.
+
+Lusignan thought that odd; however, he said politely, "No matter, it is
+fortunate. Would you mind coming in?"
+
+"No," faltered Christopher, and stared at him ruefully, puzzled more and
+more, but beginning to think, after all, it might be a casual meeting.
+
+They entered the gate, and in one moment he saw Rosa at the window, and
+she saw him.
+
+Then he altered his opinion again. Rosa had sent her father out to him.
+But how was this? The old man did not seem angry. Christopher's heart
+gave a leap inside him, and he began to glow with the wildest hopes.
+For, what could this mean but relenting?
+
+Mr. Lusignan took him first into the study, and lighted two candles
+himself. He did not want the servants prying.
+
+The lights showed Christopher a change in Mr. Lusignan. He looked ten
+years older.
+
+"You are not well, sir," said Christopher gently.
+
+"My health is well enough, but I am a broken-hearted man. Dr. Staines,
+forget all that passed here at your last visit. All that is over. Thank
+you for loving my poor girl as you do; give me your hand; God bless you.
+Sir, I am sorry to say it is as a physician I invite you now. She is
+ill, sir, very, very ill."
+
+"Ill! and not tell me!"
+
+"She kept it from you, my poor friend, not to distress you; and she
+tried to keep it from me, but how could she? For two months she has
+had some terrible complaint--it is destroying her. She is the ghost of
+herself. Oh, my poor child! my child!"
+
+The old man sobbed aloud. The young man stood trembling, and ashy pale.
+Still, the habits of his profession, and the experience of dangers
+overcome, together with a certain sense of power, kept him up; but,
+above all, love and duty said, "Be firm." He asked for an outline of the
+symptoms.
+
+They alarmed him greatly.
+
+"Let us lose no more time," said he. "I will see her at once."
+
+"Do you object to my being present?"
+
+"Of course not."
+
+"Shall I tell you what Dr. Snell says it is, and Mr. Wyman?"
+
+"By all means--after I have seen her."
+
+This comforted Mr. Lusignan. He was to get an independent judgment, at
+all events.
+
+When they reached the top of the stairs, Dr. Staines paused and leaned
+against the baluster. "Give me a moment," said he. "The patient must not
+know how my heart is beating, and she must see nothing in my face but
+what I choose her to see. Give me your hand once more, sir; let us both
+control ourselves. Now announce me."
+
+Mr. Lusignan opened the door, and said, with forced cheerfulness, "Dr.
+Staines, my dear, come to give you the benefit of his skill."
+
+She lay on the sofa, just as we left her. Only her bosom began to heave.
+
+Then Christopher Staines drew himself up, and the majesty of knowledge
+and love together seemed to dilate his noble frame. He fixed his eye on
+that reclining, panting figure, and stepped lightly but firmly across
+the room to know the worst, like a lion walking up to levelled lances.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+The young physician walked steadily up to his patient without taking his
+eye off her, and drew a chair to her side.
+
+Then she took down one hand--the left--and gave it him, averting her
+face tenderly, and still covering it with her right; "For," said she to
+herself, "I am such a fright now." This opportune reflection, and her
+heaving bosom, proved that she at least felt herself something more
+than his patient. Her pretty consciousness made his task more difficult;
+nevertheless, he only allowed himself to press her hand tenderly with
+both his palms one moment, and then he entered on his functions bravely.
+"I am here as your physician."
+
+"Very well," said she softly.
+
+He gently detained the hand, and put his finger lightly to her pulse; it
+was palpitating, and a fallacious test. Oh, how that beating pulse, by
+love's electric current, set his own heart throbbing in a moment!
+
+He put her hand gently, reluctantly down, and said, "Oblige me by
+turning this way." She turned, and he winced internally at the change in
+her; but his face betrayed nothing. He looked at her full; and, after
+a pause, put her some questions: one was as to the color of the
+hemorrhage. She said it was bright red.
+
+"Not a tinge of purple?"
+
+"No," said she hopefully, mistaking him.
+
+He suppressed a sigh.
+
+Then he listened at her shoulder-blade and at her chest, and made her
+draw her breath while he was listening. The acts were simple, and usual
+in medicine, but there was a deep, patient, silent intensity about his
+way of doing them.
+
+Mr. Lusignan crept nearer, and stood with both hands on a table, and his
+old head bowed, awaiting yet dreading the verdict.
+
+Up to this time, Dr. Staines, instead of tapping and squeezing, and
+pulling the patient about, had never touched her with his hand, and only
+grazed her with his ear; but now he said "Allow me," and put both hands
+to her waist, more lightly and reverently than I can describe; "Now draw
+a deep breath, if you please."
+
+"There!"
+
+"If you could draw a deeper still," said he, insinuatingly.
+
+"There, then!" said she, a little pettishly.
+
+Dr. Staines's eye kindled.
+
+"Hum!" said he. Then, after a considerable pause, "Are you better or
+worse after each hemorrhage?"
+
+"La!" said Rosa; "they never asked me that. Why, better."
+
+"No faintness?"
+
+"Not a bit."
+
+"Rather a sense of relief, perhaps?"
+
+"Yes; I feel lighter and better."
+
+The examination was concluded.
+
+Dr. Staines looked at Rosa, and then at her father. The agony in that
+aged face, and the love that agony implied, won him, and it was to the
+parent he turned to give his verdict.
+
+"The hemorrhage is from the lungs"--
+
+Lusignan interrupted him: "From the lungs!" cried he, in dismay.
+
+"Yes; a slight congestion of the lungs."
+
+"But not incurable! Oh, not incurable, doctor!"
+
+"Heaven forbid! It is curable--easily--by removing the cause."
+
+"And what is the cause?"
+
+"The cause?"--he hesitated, and looked rather uneasy.--"Well, the cause,
+sir, is--tight stays."
+
+The tranquillity of the meeting was instantly disturbed. "Tight stays!
+Me!" cried Rosa. "Why, I am the loosest girl in England. Look, papa!"
+And, without any apparent effort, she drew herself in, and poked her
+little fist between her sash and her gown. "There!"
+
+Dr. Staines smiled sadly and a little sarcastically: he was evidently
+shy of encountering the lady in this argument; but he was more at his
+ease with her father; so he turned towards him and lectured him freely.
+
+"That is wonderful, sir; and the first four or five female patients
+that favored me with it, made me disbelieve my other senses; but Miss
+Lusignan is now about the thirtieth who has shown me that marvellous
+feat, with a calm countenance that belies the herculean effort. Nature
+has her every-day miracles: a boa-constrictor, diameter seventeen
+inches, can swallow a buffalo; a woman, with her stays bisecting her
+almost, and lacerating her skin, can yet for one moment make herself
+seem slack, to deceive a juvenile physician. The snake is the miracle of
+expansion; the woman is the prodigy of contraction."
+
+"Highly grateful for the comparison!" cried Rosa. "Women and snakes!"
+
+Dr. Staines blushed and looked uncomfortable. "I did not mean to be
+offensive; it certainly was a very clumsy comparison."
+
+"What does that matter?" said Mr. Lusignan, impatiently. "Be quiet,
+Rosa, and let Dr. Staines and me talk sense."
+
+"Oh, then I am nobody in the business!" said this wise young lady.
+
+"You are everybody," said Staines, soothingly. "But," suggested he,
+obsequiously, "if you don't mind, I would rather explain my views to
+your father--on this one subject."
+
+"And a pretty subject it is!"
+
+Dr. Staines then invited Mr. Lusignan to his lodgings, and promised to
+explain the matter anatomically. "Meantime," said he, "would you be good
+enough to put your hands to my waist, as I did to the patient's."
+
+Mr. Lusignan complied; and the patient began to titter directly, to put
+them out of countenance.
+
+"Please observe what takes place when I draw a full breath.
+
+"Now apply the same test to the patient. Breathe your best, please, Miss
+Lusignan."
+
+The patient put on a face full of saucy mutiny.
+
+"To oblige us both."
+
+"Oh, how tiresome!"
+
+"I am aware it is rather laborious," said Staines, a little dryly; "but
+to oblige your father!"
+
+"Oh, anything to oblige papa," said she, spitefully. "There! And I do
+hope it will be the last--la! no; I don't hope that, neither."
+
+Dr. Staines politely ignored her little attempts to interrupt the
+argument. "You found, sir, that the muscles of my waist, and my
+intercostal ribs themselves, rose and fell with each inhalation and
+exhalation of air by the lungs."
+
+"I did; but my daughter's waist was like dead wood, and so were her
+lower ribs."
+
+At this volunteer statement, Rosa colored to her temples. "Thanks, papa!
+Pack me off to London, and sell me for a big doll!"
+
+"In other words," said the lecturer, mild and pertinacious, "with us the
+lungs have room to blow, and the whole bony frame expands elastic
+with them, like the woodwork of a blacksmith's bellows; but with this
+patient, and many of her sex, that noble and divinely framed bellows is
+crippled and confined by a powerful machine of human construction; so it
+works lamely and feebly: consequently too little air, and of course too
+little oxygen, passes through that spongy organ whose very life is air.
+Now mark the special result in this case: being otherwise healthy and
+vigorous, our patient's system sends into the lungs more blood than that
+one crippled organ can deal with; a small quantity becomes extravasated
+at odd times; it accumulates, and would become dangerous; then Nature,
+strengthened by sleep, and by some hours' relief from the diabolical
+engine, makes an effort and flings it off: that is why the hemorrhage
+comes in the morning, and why she is the better for it, feeling neither
+faint nor sick, but relieved of a weight. This, sir, is the rationale of
+the complaint; and it is to you I must look for the cure. To judge from
+my other female patients, and from the few words Miss Lusignan has let
+fall, I fear we must not count on any very hearty co-operation from her:
+but you are her father, and have great authority; I conjure you to use
+it to the full, as you once used it--to my sorrow--in this very room.
+I am forgetting my character. I was asked here only as her physician.
+Good-evening."
+
+He gave a little gulp, and hurried away, with an abruptness that touched
+the father and offended the sapient daughter.
+
+However, Mr. Lusignan followed him, and stopped him before he left the
+house, and thanked him warmly; and to his surprise, begged him to call
+again in a day or two.
+
+"Well, Rosa, what do you say?"
+
+"I say that I am very unfortunate in my doctors. Mr. Wyman is a
+chatterbox and knows nothing. Dr. Snell is Mr. Wyman's echo. Christopher
+is a genius, and they are always full of crotchets. A pretty doctor!
+Gone away, and not prescribed for me!"
+
+Mr. Lusignan admitted it was odd. "But, after all," said he, "if
+medicine does you no good?"
+
+"Ah! but any medicine HE had prescribed would have done me good, and
+that makes it all the unkinder."
+
+"If you think so highly of his skill, why not take his advice? It can do
+no harm."
+
+"No harm? Why, if I was to leave them off I should catch a dreadful
+cold; and that would be sure to settle on my chest, and carry me off,
+in my present delicate state. Besides, it is so unfeminine not to wear
+them."
+
+This staggered Mr. Lusignan, and he was afraid to press the point; but
+what Staines had said fermented in his mind.
+
+Dr. Snell and Mr. Wyman continued their visits and their prescriptions.
+
+The patient got a little worse.
+
+Mr. Lusignan hoped Christopher would call again, but he did not.
+
+When Dr. Staines had satisfied himself that the disorder was easily
+curable, then wounded pride found an entrance even into his loving
+heart. That two strangers should have been consulted before him! He was
+only sent for because they could not cure her.
+
+As he seemed in no hurry to repeat his visit, Mr. Lusignan called on
+him, and said, politely, he had hoped to receive another call ere this.
+"Personally," said he, "I was much struck with your observations; but my
+daughter is afraid she will catch cold if she leaves off her corset, and
+that, you know, might be very serious."
+
+Dr. Staines groaned, and, when he had groaned, he lectured. "Female
+patients are wonderfully monotonous in this matter; they have a
+programme of evasions; and whether the patient is a lady or a housemaid,
+she seldom varies from that programme. You find her breathing life's air
+with half a bellows, and you tell her so. 'Oh, no,' says she; and does
+the gigantic feat of contraction we witnessed that evening at your
+house. But, on inquiry, you learn there is a raw red line ploughed
+in her flesh by the cruel stays. 'What is that?' you ask, and flatter
+yourself you have pinned her. Not a bit. 'That was the last pair. I
+changed them, because they hurt me.' Driven out of that by proofs of
+recent laceration, they say, 'If I leave them off I should catch my
+death of cold,' which is equivalent to saying there is no flannel in the
+shops, no common sense nor needles at home."
+
+He then laid before him some large French plates, showing the organs
+of the human trunk, and bade him observe in how small a space, and with
+what skill, the Creator has packed so many large yet delicate organs,
+so that they should be free and secure from friction, though so close to
+each other. He showed him the liver, an organ weighing four pounds, and
+of large circumference; the lungs, a very large organ, suspended in the
+chest and impatient of pressure; the heart, the stomach, the spleen, all
+of them too closely and artfully packed to bear any further compression.
+
+Having thus taken him by the eye, he took him by the mind.
+
+"Is it a small thing for the creature to say to her Creator, 'I can pack
+all this egg-china better than you can,' and thereupon to jam all
+those vital organs close, by a powerful, a very powerful and ingenious
+machine? Is it a small thing for that sex, which, for good reasons, the
+Omniscient has made larger in the waist than the male, to say to her
+Creator, 'You don't know your business; women ought to be smaller in the
+waist than men, and shall be throughout the civilized world'?"
+
+In short, he delivered so many true and pointed things on this trite
+subject, that the old gentleman was convinced, and begged him to come
+over that very evening and convince Rosa.
+
+Dr. Staines shook his head dolefully, and all his fire died out of him
+at having to face the fair. "Reason will be wasted. Authority is the
+only weapon. My profession and my reading have both taught me that
+the whole character of her sex undergoes a change the moment a man
+interferes with their dress. From Chaucer's day to our own, neither
+public satire nor private remonstrance has ever shaken any of their
+monstrous fashions. Easy, obliging, pliable, and weaker of will than men
+in other things, do but touch their dress, however objectionable, and
+rock is not harder, iron is not more stubborn, than these soft and
+yielding creatures. It is no earthly use my coming--I'll come."
+
+He came that very evening, and saw directly she was worse. "Of course,"
+said he, sadly, "you have not taken my advice."
+
+Rosa replied with a toss and an evasion, "I was not worth a
+prescription!"
+
+"A physician can prescribe without sending his patient to the druggist;
+and when he does, then it is his words are gold."
+
+Rosa shook her head with an air of lofty incredulity.
+
+He looked ruefully at Mr. Lusignan and was silent. Rosa smiled
+sarcastically; she thought he was at his wit's end.
+
+Not quite: he was cudgelling his brains in search of some horribly
+unscientific argument, that might prevail; for he felt science would
+fall dead upon so fair an antagonist. At last his eye kindled; he had
+hit on an argument unscientific enough for anybody, he thought. Said he,
+ingratiatingly, "You believe the Old Testament?"
+
+"Of course I do, every syllable."
+
+"And the lessons it teaches?"
+
+"Certainly!"
+
+"Then let me tell you a story from that book. A Syrian general had a
+terrible disease. He consulted Elisha by deputy. Elisha said, 'Bathe
+seven times in a certain river, Jordan, and you will get well.' The
+general did not like this at all; he wanted a prescription; wanted to
+go to the druggist; didn't believe in hydropathy to begin, and, in any
+case, turned up his nose at Jordan. What! bathe in an Israelitish
+brook, when his own country boasted noble rivers, with a reputation for
+sanctity into the bargain? In short, he preferred his leprosy to such
+irregular medicine. But it happened, by some immense fortuity, that
+one of his servants, though an Oriental, was a friend, instead of a
+flatterer; and this sensible fellow said, 'If the prophet told you to do
+some great and difficult thing, to get rid of this fearful malady, would
+not you do it, however distasteful? and can you hesitate when he merely
+says, Wash in the Jordan, and be healed?' The general listened to
+good sense, and cured himself. Your case is parallel. You would take
+quantities of foul medicine; you would submit to some painful operation,
+if life and health depended on it; then why not do a small thing for
+a great result? You have only to take off an unnatural machine which
+cripples your growing frame, and was unknown to every one of the
+women whose forms in Parian marble the world admires. Off with that
+monstrosity, and your cure is as certain as the Syrian general's; though
+science, and not inspiration, dictates the easy remedy."
+
+Rosa had listened impatiently, and now replied with some warmth, "This
+is shockingly profane. The idea of comparing yourself to Elisha, and me
+to a horrid leper! Much obliged! Not that I know what a leper is."
+
+"Come, come! that is not fair," said Mr. Lusignan. "He only compared the
+situation, not the people."
+
+"But, papa, the Bible is not to be dragged into the common affairs of
+life."
+
+"Then what on earth is the use of it?"
+
+"Oh, papa! Well, it is not Sunday, but I have had a sermon. This is the
+clergyman, and you are the commentator--he! he! And so now let us go
+back from divinity to medicine. I repeat" (this was the first time she
+had said it) "that my other doctors give me real prescriptions, written
+in hieroglyphics. You can't look at them without feeling there MUST be
+something in them."
+
+An angry spot rose on Christopher's cheek, but he only said, "And are
+your other doctors satisfied with the progress your disorder is making
+under their superintendence?"
+
+"Perfectly! Papa, tell him what they say, and I'll find him their
+prescriptions." She went to a drawer, and rummaged, affecting not to
+listen.
+
+Lusignan complied. "First of all, sir, I must tell you they are
+confident it is not the lungs, but the liver."
+
+"The what!" shouted Christopher.
+
+"Ah!" screamed Rosa. "Oh, don't!--bawling!"
+
+"And don't you screech," said her father, with a look of misery and
+apprehension impartially distributed on the resounding pair.
+
+"You must have misunderstood them," murmured Staines, in a voice that
+was now barely audible a yard off. "The hemorrhage of a bright red
+color, and expelled without effort or nausea?"
+
+"From the liver--they have assured me again and again," said Lusignan.
+
+Christopher's face still wore a look of blank amazement, till Rosa
+herself confirmed it positively.
+
+Then he cast a look of agony upon her, and started up in a passion,
+forgetting once more that his host abhorred the sonorous. "Oh, shame!
+shame!" he cried, "that the noble profession of medicine should be
+disgraced by ignorance such as this." Then he said, sternly, "Sir, do
+not mistake my motives; but I decline to have anything further to do
+with this case, until those two gentlemen have been relieved of it; and,
+as this is very harsh, and on my part unprecedented, I will give you
+one reason out of many I COULD give you. Sir, there is no road from the
+liver to the throat by which blood can travel in this way, defying
+the laws of gravity; and they knew, from the patient, that no strong
+expellent force has ever been in operation. Their diagnosis, therefore,
+implies agnosis, or ignorance too great to be forgiven. I will not share
+my patient with two gentlemen who know so little of medicine, and know
+nothing of anatomy, which is the A B C of medicine. Can I see their
+prescriptions?"
+
+These were handed to him. "Good heavens!" said he, "have you taken all
+these?"
+
+"Most of them."
+
+"Why, then you have drunk about two gallons of unwholesome liquids,
+and eaten a pound or two of unwholesome solids. These medicines have
+co-operated with the malady. The disorder lies, not in the hemorrhage,
+but in the precedent extravasation that is a drain on the system; and
+how is the loss to be supplied? Why, by taking a little more nourishment
+than before; there is no other way; and probably Nature, left to
+herself, might have increased your appetite to meet the occasion. But
+those two worthies have struck that weapon out of Nature's hand; they
+have peppered away at the poor ill-used stomach with drugs and draughts,
+not very deleterious I grant you, but all more or less indigestible, and
+all tending, not to whet the appetite, but to clog the stomach, or turn
+the stomach, or pester the stomach, and so impair the appetite, and so
+co-operate, indirectly, with the malady."
+
+"This is good sense," said Lusignan. "I declare, I--I wish I knew how to
+get rid of them."
+
+"Oh, I'll do that, papa."
+
+"No, no; it is not worth a rumpus."
+
+"I'll do it too politely for that. Christopher, you are very
+clever--TERRIBLY clever. Whenever I threw their medicines away, I was
+always a little better that day. I will sacrifice them to you. It IS
+a sacrifice. They are both so kind and chatty, and don't grudge me
+hieroglyphics; now you do."
+
+She sat down and wrote two sweet letters to Dr. Snell and Mr. Wyman,
+thanking them for the great attention they had paid her; but finding
+herself getting steadily worse, in spite of all they had done for her,
+she proposed to discontinue her medicines for a time, and try change of
+air.
+
+"And suppose they call to see whether you are changing the air?"
+
+"In that case, papa--'not at home.'"
+
+The notes were addressed and despatched.
+
+Then Dr. Staines brightened up, and said to Lusignan, "I am now happy to
+tell you that I have overrated the malady. The sad change I see in Miss
+Lusignan is partly due to the great bulk of unwholesome esculents
+she has been eating and drinking under the head of medicines. These
+discontinued, she might linger on for years, existing, though not
+living--the tight-laced cannot be said to live. But if she would be
+healthy and happy, let her throw that diabolical machine into the
+fire. It is no use asking her to loosen it; she can't. Once there, the
+temptation is too strong. Off with it, and, take my word, you will be
+one of the healthiest and most vigorous young ladies in Europe."
+
+Rosa looked rueful, and almost sullen. She said she had parted with her
+doctors for him, but she really could not go about without stays. "They
+are as loose as they can be. See!"
+
+"That part of the programme is disposed of," said Christopher. "Please
+go on to No. 2. How about the raw red line where the loose machine has
+sawed you?"
+
+"What red line? No such thing! Somebody or other has been peeping in at
+my window. I'll have the ivy cut down to-morrow."
+
+"Simpleton!" said Mr. Lusignan, angrily. "You have let the cat out of
+the bag. There is such a mark, then, and this extraordinary young man
+has discerned it with the eye of science."
+
+"He never discerned it at all," said Rosa, red as fire; "and, what is
+more, he never will."
+
+"I don't want to. I should be very sorry to. I hope it will be gone in a
+week."
+
+"I wish YOU were gone now--exposing me in this cruel way," said Rosa,
+angry with herself for having said an idiotic thing, and furious with
+him for having made her say it.
+
+"Oh, Rosa!" said Christopher, in a voice of tenderest reproach.
+
+But Mr. Lusignan interfered promptly. "Rosa, no noise. I will not have
+you snapping at your best friend and mine. If you are excited, you had
+better retire to your own room and compose yourself. I hate a clamor."
+
+Rosa made a wry face at this rebuke, and then began to cry quietly.
+
+Every tear was like a drop of blood from Christopher's heart. "Pray
+don't scold her, sir," said he, ready to snivel himself. "She meant
+nothing unkind: it is only her pretty sprightly way; and she did not
+really imagine a love so reverent as mine"--
+
+"Don't YOU interfere between my father and me," said this reasonable
+young lady, now in an ungovernable state of feminine irritability.
+
+"No, Rosa," said Christopher, humbly. "Mr. Lusignan," said he, "I hope
+you will tell her that, from the very first, I was unwilling to enter on
+this subject with HER. Neither she nor I can forget my double character.
+I have not said half as much to her as I ought, being her physician; and
+yet you see I have said more than she can bear from me, who, she knows,
+love her and revere her. Then, once for all, do pray let me put this
+delicate matter into your hands: it is a case for parental authority."
+
+"Unfatherly tyranny, that means," said Rosa. "What business have
+gentlemen interfering in such things? It is unheard of. I will not
+submit to it, even from papa."
+
+"Well, you need not scream at me," said Mr. Lusignan; and he shrugged
+his shoulders to Staines. "She is impracticable, you see. If I do my
+duty, there will be a disturbance."
+
+Now this roused the bile of Dr. Staines. "What, sir!" said he, "you
+could separate her and me by your authority, here in this very room; and
+yet, when her life is at stake, you abdicate! You could part her from a
+man who loved her with every drop of his heart,--and she said she loved
+him, or, at all events, preferred him to others,--and you cannot part
+her from a miserable corset, although you see in her poor wasted face
+that it is carrying her to the churchyard. In that case, sir, there is
+but one thing for you to do,--withdraw your opposition and let me
+marry her. As her lover I am powerless; but invest me with a husband's
+authority, and you will soon see the roses return to her cheek, and
+her elastic figure expanding, and her eye beaming with health and the
+happiness that comes of perfect health."
+
+Mr. Lusignan made an answer neither of his hearers expected. He said,
+"I have a great mind to take you at your word. I am too old and fond of
+quiet to drive a Simpleton in single harness."
+
+This contemptuous speech, and, above all, the word Simpleton, which had
+been applied to her pretty freely by young ladies at school, and always
+galled her terribly, inflicted so intolerable a wound on Rosa's vanity,
+that she was ready to burst: on that, of course, her stays contributed
+their mite of physical uneasiness. Thus irritated mind and body, she
+burned to strike in return; and as she could not slap her father in the
+presence of another, she gave it Christopher back-handed.
+
+"You can turn me out of doors," said she, "if you are tired of your
+daughter, but I am not such a SIMPLETON as to marry a tyrant. No; he has
+shown the cloven foot in time. A husband's AUTHORITY, indeed!" Then she
+turned her hand, and gave it him direct. "You told me a different
+story when you were paying your court to me; then you were to be my
+servant,--all hypocritical sweetness. You had better go and marry a
+Circassian slave. They don't wear stays, and they do wear trousers; so
+she will be unfeminine enough, even for you. No English lady would
+let her husband dictate to her about such a thing. I can have as many
+husbands as I like, without falling into the clutches of a tyrant. You
+are a rude, indelicate--And so please understand it is all over between
+you and me."
+
+Both her auditors stood aghast, for she uttered this conclusion with a
+dignity of which the opening gave no promise, and the occasion, weighed
+in masculine balances, was not worthy.
+
+"You do not mean that. You cannot mean it," said Dr. Staines, aghast.
+
+"I do mean it," said she, firmly; "and, if you are a gentleman, you will
+not compel me to say it twice--three times, I mean."
+
+At this dagger-stroke Christopher turned very pale, but he maintained
+his dignity. "I am a gentleman," said he, quietly, "and a very
+unfortunate one. Good-by, sir; thank you kindly. Good-by, Rosa; God
+bless you! Oh, pray take a thought! Remember, your life and death are in
+your own hand now. I am powerless."
+
+And he left the house in sorrow, and just, but not pettish, indignation.
+
+When he was gone, father and daughter looked at each other, and there
+was the silence that succeeds a storm.
+
+Rosa, feeling the most uneasy, was the first to express her
+satisfaction. "There, HE is gone, and I am glad of it. Now you and I
+shall never quarrel again. I was quite right. Such impertinence! Such
+indelicacy! A fine prospect for me if I had married such a man! However,
+he is gone, and so there's an end of it. The idea! telling a young lady,
+before her father, she is tight-laced! If you had not been there I could
+have forgiven him. But I am not; it is a story. Now," suddenly exalting
+her voice, "I know you believe him."
+
+"I say nothing," whispered papa, hoping to still her by example. This
+ruse did not succeed.
+
+"But you look volumes," cried she: "and I can't bear it. I won't bear
+it. If you don't believe ME, ask my MAID." And with this felicitous
+speech, she rang the bell.
+
+"You'll break the wire if you don't mind," suggested her father,
+piteously.
+
+"All the better! Why should not wires be broken as well as my heart? Oh,
+here she is! Now, Harriet, come here."
+
+"Yes, miss."
+
+"And tell the truth. AM I tight-laced?"
+
+Harriet looked in her face a moment to see what was required of her, and
+then said, "That you are not, miss. I never dressed a young lady as wore
+'em easier than you do."
+
+"There, papa! That will do, Harriet."
+
+Harriet retired as far as the keyhole; she saw something was up.
+
+"Now," said Rosa, "you see I was right; and, after all, it was a match
+you did not approve. Well, it is all over, and now you may write to your
+favorite, Colonel Bright. If he comes here, I'll box his old ears. I
+hate him. I hate them all. Forgive your wayward girl. I'll stay with
+you all my days. I dare say that will not be long, now I have quarrelled
+with my guardian angel; and all for what? Papa! papa! how CAN you sit
+there and not speak me one word of comfort? 'SIMPLETON?' Ah! that I am
+to throw away a love a queen is scarcely worthy of; and all for what?
+Really, if it wasn't for the ingratitude and wickedness of the thing, it
+is too laughable. Ha! ha!--oh! oh! oh!--ha! ha! ha!"
+
+And off she went into hysterics, and began to gulp and choke
+frightfully.
+
+Her father cried for help in dismay. In ran Harriet, saw, and screamed,
+but did not lose her head; this veracious person whipped a pair of
+scissors off the table, and cut the young lady's stay-laces directly.
+Then there was a burst of imprisoned beauty; a deep, deep sigh of relief
+came from a bosom that would have done honor to Diana; and the scene
+soon concluded with fits of harmless weeping, renewed at intervals.
+
+When it had settled down to this, her father, to soothe her, said he
+would write to Dr. Staines, and bring about a reconciliation, if she
+liked.
+
+"No," said she, "you shall kill me sooner. I should die of shame."
+
+She added, "Oh, pray, from this hour, never mention his name to me."
+
+And then she had another cry.
+
+Mr. Lusignan was a sensible man: he dropped the subject for the present;
+but he made up his mind to one thing--that he would never part with Dr.
+Staines as a physician.
+
+Next day Rosa kept her own room until dinner-time, and was as unhappy
+as she deserved to be. She spent her time in sewing on stiff flannel
+linings and crying. She half hoped Christopher would write to her, so
+that she might write back that she forgave him. But not a line.
+
+At half-past six her volatile mind took a turn, real or affected. She
+would cry no more for an ungrateful fellow,--ungrateful for not seeing
+through the stone walls how she had been employed all the morning; and
+making it up. So she bathed her red eyes, made a great alteration in her
+dress, and came dancing into the room humming an Italian ditty.
+
+As they were sitting together in the dining-room after dinner, two
+letters came by the same post to Mr. Lusignan from Mr. Wyman and Dr.
+Snell.
+
+Mr. Wyman's letter:--
+
+
+DEAR SIR,--I am sorry to hear from Miss Lusignan that she intends to
+discontinue medical advice. The disorder was progressing favorably, and
+nothing to be feared, under proper treatment.
+
+Yours, etc.
+
+
+Dr. Snell's letter:--
+
+
+DEAR SIR,--Miss Lusignan has written to me somewhat impatiently and
+seems disposed to dispense with my visits. I do not, however, think it
+right to withdraw without telling you candidly that this is an unwise
+step. Your daughter's health is in a very precarious condition.
+
+Yours, etc.
+
+
+Rosa burst out laughing. "I have nothing to fear, and I'm on the brink
+of the grave. That comes of writing without a consultation. If they
+had written at one table, I should have been neither well nor ill. Poor
+Christopher!" and her sweet face began to work piteously.
+
+"There! there! drink a glass of wine."
+
+She did, and a tear with it, that ran into the glass like lightning.
+
+Warned by this that grief sat very near the bright, hilarious surface,
+Mr. Lusignan avoided all emotional subjects for the present. Next day,
+however, he told her she might dismiss her lover, but no power should
+make him dismiss his pet physician, unless her health improved.
+
+"I will not give you that excuse for inflicting him on me again," said
+the young hypocrite.
+
+She kept her word. She got better and better, stronger, brighter, gayer.
+
+She took to walking every day, and increasing the distance, till she
+could walk ten miles without fatigue.
+
+Her favorite walk was to a certain cliff that commanded a noble view of
+the sea. To get to it she must pass through the town of Gravesend; and
+we may be sure she did not pass so often through that city without some
+idea of meeting the lover she had used so ill, and eliciting an APOLOGY
+from him. Sly puss!
+
+When she had walked twenty times, or thereabouts, through the town, and
+never seen him, she began to fear she had offended him past hope. Then
+she used to cry at the end of every walk.
+
+But by and by bodily health, vanity, and temper combined to rouse the
+defiant spirit. Said she, "If he really loved me, he would not take my
+word in such a hurry. And besides, why does he not watch me, and find
+out what I am doing, and where I walk?"
+
+At last she really began to persuade herself that she was an ill-used
+and slighted girl. She was very angry at times, and disconsolate at
+others; a mixed state in which hasty and impulsive young ladies commit
+lifelong follies.
+
+Mr. Lusignan observed the surface only: he saw his invalid daughter
+getting better every day, till at last she became a picture of health
+and bodily vigor. Relieved of his fears, he troubled his head but little
+about Christopher Staines. Yet he esteemed him, and had got to like
+him; but Rosa was a beauty, and could do better than marry a struggling
+physician, however able. He launched out into a little gayety, resumed
+his quiet dinner-parties; and, after some persuasion, took his now
+blooming daughter to a ball given by the officers of Chatham.
+
+She was the belle of the ball beyond dispute, and danced with ethereal
+grace and athletic endurance. She was madly fond of waltzing, and here
+she encountered what she was pleased to call a divine dancer. It was
+a Mr. Reginald Falcon, a gentleman who had retired to the seaside to
+recruit his health and finances sore tried by London and Paris. Falcon
+had run through his fortune, but had acquired, in the process, certain
+talents which, as they cost the acquirer dear, so they sometimes repay
+him, especially if he is not overburdened with principle, and adopts the
+notion that, the world having plucked him, he has a right to pluck the
+world. He could play billiards well, but never so well as when backing
+himself for a heavy stake. He could shoot pigeons well, and his shooting
+improved under that which makes some marksmen miss--a heavy bet against
+the gun. He danced to perfection; and being a well-bred, experienced,
+brazen, adroit fellow, who knew a little of everything that was going,
+he had always plenty to say. Above all, he had made a particular study
+of the fair sex; had met with many successes, many rebuffs; and, at
+last, by keen study of their minds, and a habit he had acquired of
+watching their faces, and shifting his helm accordingly, had learned
+the great art of pleasing them. They admired his face; to me, the
+short space between his eyes and his hair, his aquiline nose, and thin
+straight lips, suggested the bird of prey a little too much: but to
+fair doves, born to be clutched, this similitude perhaps was not very
+alarming, even if they observed it.
+
+Rosa danced several times with him, and told him he danced like an
+angel. He informed her that was because, for once, he was dancing with
+an angel. She laughed and blushed. He flattered deliciously, and it cost
+him little; for he fell in love with her that night, deeper than he had
+ever been in his whole life of intrigue. He asked leave to call on
+her: she looked a little shy at that, and did not respond. He instantly
+withdrew his proposal, with an apology and a sigh that raised her pity.
+However, she was not a forward girl, even when excited by dancing and
+charmed with her partner; so she left him to find his own way out of
+that difficulty.
+
+He was not long about it. At the end of the next waltz he asked her if
+he might venture to solicit an introduction to her father.
+
+"Oh, certainly," said she. "What a selfish girl I am! this is terribly
+dull for him."
+
+The introduction being made, and Rosa being engaged for the next three
+dances, Mr. Falcon sat by Mr. Lusignan and entertained him. For this
+little piece of apparent self-denial he was paid in various coin:
+Lusignan found out he was the son of an old acquaintance, and so the
+door of Kent Villa opened to him; meantime, Rosa Lusignan never passed
+him, even in the arms of a cavalry officer, without bestowing a glance
+of approval and gratitude on him. "What a good-hearted young man!"
+thought she. "How kind of him to amuse papa; and now I can stay so much
+longer."
+
+Falcon followed up the dance by a call, and was infinitely agreeable:
+followed up the call by another, and admired Rosa with so little
+disguise that Mr. Lusignan said to her, "I think you have made a
+conquest. His father had considerable estates in Essex. I presume he
+inherits them."
+
+"Oh, never mind his estates," said Rosa, "he dances like an angel, and
+gossips charmingly, and IS so nice."
+
+Christopher Staines pined for this girl in silence: his fine frame got
+thinner, his pale cheek paler, as she got rosier and rosier; and how?
+Why, by following the very advice she had snubbed him for giving her. At
+last, he heard she had been the belle of a ball, and that she had been
+seen walking miles from home, and blooming as a Hebe. Then his deep
+anxiety ceased, his pride stung him furiously; he began to think of his
+own value, and to struggle with all his might against his deep love.
+Sometimes he would even inveigh against her, and call her a fickle,
+ungrateful girl, capable of no strong passion but vanity. Many a hard
+term he applied to her in his sorrowful solitude; but not a word when he
+had a hearer. He found it hard to rest: he kept dashing up to London and
+back. He plunged furiously into study. He groaned and sighed, and fought
+the hard and bitter fight that is too often the lot of the deep that
+love the shallow. Strong, but single-hearted, no other lady could
+comfort him. He turned from female company, and shunned all for the
+fault of one.
+
+The inward contest wore him. He began to look very thin and wan; and all
+for a Simpleton!
+
+Mr. Falcon prolonged his stay in the neighborhood, and drove a handsome
+dogcart over twice a week to visit Mr. Lusignan.
+
+He used to call on that gentleman at four o'clock, for at that hour Mr.
+Lusignan was always out, and his daughter always at home.
+
+She was at home at that hour because she took her long walks in the
+morning. While her new admirer was in bed, or dressing, or breakfasting,
+she was springing along the road with all the elasticity of youth, and
+health, and native vigor, braced by daily exercise.
+
+Twenty-one of these walks did she take, with no other result than health
+and appetite; but the twenty-second was more fertile--extremely fertile.
+Starting later than usual, she passed through Gravesend while Reginald
+Falcon was smoking at his front window. He saw her, and instantly doffed
+his dressing-gown and donned his coat to follow her. He was madly in
+love with her, and being a man who had learned to shoot pigeons and
+opportunities flying, he instantly resolved to join her in her walk, get
+her clear of the town, by the sea-beach, where beauty melts, and propose
+to her. Yes, marriage had not been hitherto his habit, but this girl was
+peerless: he was pledged by honor and gratitude to Phoebe Dale; but hang
+all that now. "No man should marry one woman when he loves another; it
+is dishonorable." He got into the street and followed her as fast as he
+could without running.
+
+It was not so easy to catch her. Ladies are not built for running; but
+a fine, tall, symmetrical girl who has practised walking fast can cover
+the ground wonderfully in walking--if she chooses. It was a sight to see
+how Rosa Lusignan squared her shoulders and stepped out from the
+waist like a Canadian girl skating, while her elastic foot slapped the
+pavement as she spanked along.
+
+She had nearly cleared the town before Falcon came up with her.
+
+He was hardly ten yards from her when an unexpected incident occurred.
+She whisked round the corner of Bird Street, and ran plump against
+Christopher Staines; in fact, she darted into his arms, and her face
+almost touched the breast she had wounded so deeply.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Rosa cried "Oh!" and put up her hands to her face in lovely confusion,
+coloring like a peony.
+
+"I beg your pardon," said Christopher, stiffly, but in a voice that
+trembled.
+
+"No," said Rosa, "it was I ran against you. I walk so fast now. Hope I
+did not hurt you."
+
+"Hurt me?"
+
+"Well, then, frighten you?"
+
+No answer.
+
+"Oh, please don't quarrel with me in the STREET," said Rosa, cunningly
+implying that he was the quarrelsome one. "I am going on the beach.
+Good-by!" This adieu she uttered softly, and in a hesitating tone that
+belied it. She started off, however, but much more slowly than she was
+going before; and, as she went, she turned her head with infinite grace,
+and kept looking askant down at the pavement two yards behind her:
+moreover she went close to the wall, and left room at her side for
+another to walk.
+
+Christopher hesitated a moment; but the mute invitation, so arch yet
+timid, so pretty, tender, sly, and womanly, was too much for him, as it
+has generally proved for males, and the philosopher's foot was soon
+in the very place to which the Simpleton with the mere tail of her eye
+directed it.
+
+They walked along, side by side, in silence, Staines agitated, gloomy,
+confused, Rosa radiant and glowing, yet not knowing what to say for
+herself, and wanting Christopher to begin. So they walked along without
+a word.
+
+Falcon followed them at some distance to see whether it was an admirer
+or only an acquaintance. A lover he never dreamed of; she had shown such
+evident pleasure in his company, and had received his visits alone so
+constantly.
+
+However, when the pair had got to the beach, and were walking slower and
+slower, he felt a pang of rage and jealousy, turned on his heel with an
+audible curse, and found Phoebe Dale a few yards behind him with a white
+face and a peculiar look. He knew what the look meant; he had brought it
+to that faithful face before to-day.
+
+
+"You are better, Miss Lusignan."
+
+"Better, Dr. Staines? I am health itself thanks to--hem!"
+
+"Our estrangement has agreed with you?" This very bitterly.
+
+"You know very well it is not that. Oh, please don't make me cry in the
+streets."
+
+This humble petition, or rather meek threat, led to another long
+silence. It was continued till they had nearly reached the shore.
+But, meantime, Rosa's furtive eyes scanned Christopher's face, and her
+conscience smote her at the signs of suffering. She felt a desire to
+beg his pardon with deep humility; but she suppressed that weakness. She
+hung her head with a pretty, sheepish air, and asked him if he could not
+think of something agreeable to say to one after deserting one so long.
+
+"I am afraid not," said Christopher, bluntly. "I have an awkward habit
+of speaking the truth; and some people can't bear that, not even when it
+is spoken for their good."
+
+"That depends on temper, and nerves, and things," said Rosa,
+deprecatingly; then softly, "I could bear anything from you now."
+
+"Indeed!" said Christopher, grimly. "Well, then, I hear you had no
+sooner got rid of your old lover, for loving you too well and telling
+you the truth, than you took up another,--some flimsy man of fashion,
+who will tell you any lie you like."
+
+"It is a story, a wicked story," cried Rosa, thoroughly alarmed. "Me, a
+lover! He dances like an angel; I can't help that."
+
+"Are his visits at your house like angels'--few and far between?" And
+the true lover's brow lowered black upon her for the first time.
+
+Rosa changed color, and her eyes fell a moment. "Ask papa," she said.
+"His father was an old friend of papa's."
+
+"Rosa, you are prevaricating. Young men do not call on old gentlemen
+when there is an attractive young lady in the house."
+
+The argument was getting too close; so Rosa operated a diversion. "So,"
+said she, with a sudden air of lofty disdain, swiftly and adroitly
+assumed, "you have had me watched?"
+
+"Not I; I only hear what people say."
+
+"Listen to gossip and not have me watched! That shows how little you
+really cared for me. Well, if you had, you would have made a little
+discovery, that is all."
+
+"Should I?" said Christopher, puzzled. "What?"
+
+"I shall not tell you. Think what you please. Yes, sir, you would have
+found out that I take long walks every day, all alone; and what is
+more, that I walk through Gravesend, hoping--like a goose--that somebody
+really loved me, and would meet me, and beg my pardon; and if he had, I
+should have told him it was only my tongue, and my nerves, and things;
+my heart was his, and my gratitude. And after all, what do words
+signify, when I am a good, obedient girl at bottom? So that is what
+you have lost by not condescending to look after me. Fine
+love!--Christopher, beg my pardon."
+
+"May I inquire for what?"
+
+"Why, for not understanding me; for not knowing that I should be sorry
+the moment you were gone. I took them off the very next day, to please
+you."
+
+"Took off whom?--Oh, I understand. You did? Then you ARE a good girl."
+
+"Didn't I tell you I was? A good, obedient girl, and anything but a
+flirt."
+
+"I don't say that."
+
+"But I do. Don't interrupt. It is to your good advice I owe my health;
+and to love anybody but you, when I owe you my love and my life, I must
+be a heartless, ungrateful, worthless--Oh, Christopher, forgive me! No,
+no; I mean, beg my pardon."
+
+"I'll do both," said Christopher, taking her in his arms. "I beg your
+pardon, and I forgive you."
+
+Rosa leaned her head tenderly on his shoulder, and began to sigh. "Oh,
+dear, dear! I am a wicked, foolish girl, not fit to walk alone."
+
+On this admission, Christopher spoke out, and urged her to put an end to
+all these unhappy misunderstandings, and to his new torment, jealousy,
+by marrying him.
+
+"And so I would this very minute, if papa would consent. But," said she,
+slyly, "you never can be so foolish to wish it. What! a wise man like
+you marry a simpleton!"
+
+"Did I ever call you that?" asked Christopher, reproachfully.
+
+"No, dear; but you are the only one who has not; and perhaps I should
+lose even the one, if you were to marry me. Oh, husbands are not so
+polite as lovers! I have observed that, simpleton or not."
+
+Christopher assured her that he took quite a different view of her
+character; he believed her to be too profound for shallow people to read
+all in a moment: he even intimated that he himself had experienced no
+little difficulty in understanding her at odd times. "And so," said he,
+"they turn round upon you, and instead of saying, 'We are too shallow to
+fathom you,' they pretend you are a simpleton."
+
+This solution of the mystery had never occurred to Rosa, nor indeed
+was it likely to occur to any creature less ingenious than a lover: it
+pleased her hugely; her fine eyes sparkled, and she nestled closer still
+to the strong arm that was to parry every ill, from mortal disease to
+galling epithets.
+
+She listened with a willing ear to all his reasons, his hopes, his
+fears, and, when they reached her father's door, it was settled that
+he should dine there that day, and urge his suit to her father after
+dinner. She would implore the old gentleman to listen to it favorably.
+
+The lovers parted, and Christopher went home like one who has awakened
+from a hideous dream to daylight and happiness.
+
+He had not gone far before he met a dashing dogcart, driven by an
+exquisite. He turned to look after it, and saw it drive up to Kent
+Villa.
+
+In a moment he divined his rival, and a sickness of heart came over him.
+But he recovered himself directly, and said, "If that is the fellow, she
+will not receive him now."
+
+She did receive him though: at all events, the dogcart stood at the
+door, and its master remained inside.
+
+Christopher stood, and counted the minutes: five, ten, fifteen, twenty
+minutes, and still the dogcart stood there.
+
+It was more than he could bear. He turned savagely, and strode back to
+Gravesend, resolving that all this torture should end that night, one
+way or other.
+
+
+Phoebe Dale was the daughter of a farmer in Essex, and one of the
+happiest young women in England till she knew Reginald Falcon, Esq.
+
+She was reared on wholesome food, in wholesome air, and used to churn
+butter, make bread, cook a bit now and then, cut out and sew all her
+own dresses, get up her own linen, make hay, ride anything on four legs;
+and, for all that, was a great reader, and taught in the Sunday school
+to oblige the vicar; wrote a neat hand, and was a good arithmetician,
+kept all the house accounts and farm accounts. She was a musician,
+too,--not profound, but very correct. She would take her turn at the
+harmonium in church, and, when she was there, you never heard a wrong
+note in the bass, nor an inappropriate flourish, nor bad time. She could
+sing, too, but never would, except her part in a psalm. Her voice was
+a deep contralto, and she chose to be ashamed of this heavenly organ,
+because a pack of envious girls had giggled, and said it was like a
+man's.
+
+In short, her natural ability and the range and variety of her useful
+accomplishments were considerable; not that she was a prodigy; but she
+belonged to a small class of women in this island who are not too high
+to use their arms, nor too low to cultivate their minds; and, having a
+faculty and a habit deplorably rare amongst her sex, viz., Attention,
+she had profited by her miscellaneous advantages.
+
+Her figure and face both told her breed at once: here was an old English
+pastoral beauty; not the round-backed, narrow-chested cottager, but the
+well-fed, erect rustic, with broad, full bust and massive shoulder, and
+arm as hard as a rock with health and constant use; a hand finely cut,
+though neither small nor very white, and just a little hard inside,
+compared with Luxury's soft palm; a face honest, fair, and rather large
+than small; not beautiful, but exceedingly comely; a complexion not pink
+and white, but that delicately blended brickdusty color, which tints the
+whole cheek in fine gradation, outlasts other complexions twenty years,
+and beautifies the true Northern, even in old age. Gray, limpid, honest,
+point-blank, searching eyes; hair true nut-brown, without a shade of red
+or black; and a high, smooth forehead, full of sense. Across it ran
+one deep wrinkle that did not belong to her youth. That wrinkle was the
+brand of trouble, the line of agony. It had come of loving above her,
+yet below her, and of loving an egotist.
+
+Three years before our tale commenced, a gentleman's horse ran away with
+him, and threw him on a heap of stones by the roadside, not very far
+from Farmer Dale's gate. The farmer had him taken in. The doctor said he
+must not be moved. He was insensible; his cheek like delicate wax; his
+fair hair like silk stained with blood. He became Phoebe's patient, and,
+in due course, her convalescent: his pale, handsome face and fascinating
+manners gained one charm more from weakness; his vices were in abeyance.
+
+The womanly nurse's heart yearned over her child; for he was feeble as
+a child; and, when he got well enough to amuse his weary hours by making
+love to her, and telling her a pack of arrant lies, she was a ready
+dupe. He was to marry her as soon as ever his old uncle died, and left
+him the means, etc., etc. At last he got well enough to leave her, and
+went away, her open admirer and secret lover. He borrowed twenty pounds
+of her the day he left.
+
+He used to write her charming letters, and feed the flame; but one day
+her father sent her up to London, on his own business, all of a sudden,
+and she called on Mr. Falcon at his real address. She found he did not
+live there--only received letters. However, half-a-crown soon bought his
+real address, and thither Phoebe proceeded with a troubled heart, for
+she suspected that her true lover was in debt or trouble, and obliged to
+hide. Well, he must be got out of it, and hide at the farm meantime.
+
+So the loving girl knocked at the door, asked for Mr. Falcon, and was
+shown in to a lady rather showily dressed, who asked her business.
+
+Phoebe Dale stared at her, and then turned pale as ashes. She was
+paralyzed, and could not find her tongue.
+
+"Why, what is the matter now?" said the other, sharply.
+
+"Are you married to Reginald Falcon?"
+
+"Of course I am. Look at my wedding-ring."
+
+"Then I am not wanted here," faltered Phoebe, ready to sink on the
+floor.
+
+"Certainly not, if you are one of the bygones," said the woman,
+coarsely; and Phoebe Dale waited to hear no more, but found her way,
+Heaven knows how, into the street, and there leaned, half-fainting, on
+a rail, till a policeman came, and told her she had been drinking, and
+suggested a cool cell as the best cure.
+
+"Not drink; only a breaking heart," said she, in her low, mellow voice
+that few could resist.
+
+He got her a glass of water, drove away the boys that congregated
+directly, and she left the street. But she soon came back again, and
+waited about for Reginald Falcon.
+
+It was night when he appeared. She seized him by the breast, and taxed
+him with his villany.
+
+What with her iron grasp, pale face, and flashing eyes, he lost his
+cool impudence, and blurted out excuses. It was an old and unfortunate
+connection; he would give the world to dissolve it, if he could do it
+like a gentleman.
+
+Phoebe told him to please himself: he must part with one or the other.
+
+"Don't talk nonsense," said this man of brass; "I'll un-Falcon her on
+the spot."
+
+"Very well," said Phoebe. "I am going home; and, if you are not there by
+to-morrow at noon"--She said no more, but looked a great deal. Then she
+departed, and refused him her hand at parting. "We will see about that
+by and by," said she.
+
+At noon my lord came down to the farm, and, unfortunately for Phoebe,
+played the penitent so skilfully for about a month, that she forgave
+him, and loved him all the more for having so nearly parted with him.
+
+Her peace was not to endure long. He was detected in an intrigue in the
+very village.
+
+The insult struck so home that Phoebe herself, to her parents'
+satisfaction, ordered him out of the house at once.
+
+But, when he was gone, she had fits of weeping, and could settle to
+nothing for a long time.
+
+Months had elapsed, and she was getting a sort of dull tranquillity,
+when, one evening, taking a walk she had often with him, and mourning
+her solitude and wasted affection, he waylaid her, and clung to
+her knees, and shed crocodile tears on her hands, and, after a long
+resistance, violent at first, but fainter and fainter, got her in his
+power again, and that so completely that she met him several times by
+night, being ashamed to be seen with him in those parts by day.
+
+This ended in fresh promises of marriage, and in a constant
+correspondence by letter. This pest knew exactly how to talk to a woman,
+and how to write to one. His letters fed the unhappy flame; and, mind
+you, he sometimes deceived himself, and thought he loved her; but it
+was only himself he loved. She was an invaluable lover; a faithful,
+disinterested friend; hers was a vile bargain; his, an excellent one,
+and he clung to it.
+
+And so they went on. She detected him in another infidelity, and
+reproached him bitterly; but she had no longer the strength to break
+with him. Nevertheless, this time she had the sense to make a struggle.
+She implored him, on her very knees, to show her a little mercy in
+return for all her love. "For pity's sake, leave me!" she cried. "You
+are strong, and I am weak. You can end it forever, and pray do. You
+don't want me; you don't value me: then, leave me, once and for all, and
+end this hell you keep me in."
+
+No; he could not, or he would not, leave her alone. Look at a bird's
+wings!--how like an angel's! Yet so vile a thing as a bit of birdlime
+subdues them utterly; and such was the fascinating power of this mean
+man over this worthy woman. She was a reader, a thinker, a model
+of respectability, industry, and sense; a businesswoman, keen and
+practical; could encounter sharp hands in sharp trades; could buy or
+sell hogs, calves, or beasts with any farmer or butcher in the country,
+yet no match for a cunning fool. She had enshrined an idol in her heart,
+and that heart adored it, and clung to it, though the superior head saw
+through it, dreaded it, despised it.
+
+No wonder three years of this had drawn a tell-tale wrinkle across the
+polished brow.
+
+
+Phoebe Dale had not received a letter for some days; that roused her
+suspicion and stung her jealousy; she came up to London by fast train,
+and down to Gravesend directly.
+
+She had a thick veil that concealed her features; and with a little
+inquiring and bribing, she soon found out that Mr. Falcon was there with
+a showy dogcart. "Ah!" thought Phoebe, "he has won a little money at
+play or pigeon-shooting; so now he has no need of me."
+
+She took the lodgings opposite him, but observed nothing till this very
+morning, when she saw him throw off his dressing-gown all in a hurry and
+fling on his coat. She tied on her bonnet as rapidly, and followed him,
+until she discovered the object of his pursuit. It was a surprise to
+her, and a puzzle, to see another man step in, as if to take her
+part. But as Reginald still followed the loitering pair, she followed
+Reginald, till he turned and found her at his heels, white and lowering.
+
+She confronted him in threatening silence for some time, during which he
+prepared his defence.
+
+"So it is a LADY this time," said she, in her low, rich voice, sternly.
+
+"Is it?"
+
+"Yes, and I should say she is bespoke--that tall, fine-built gentleman.
+But I suppose you care no more for his feelings than you do for mine."
+
+"Phoebe," said the egotist, "I will not try to deceive you. You have
+often said you are my true friend."
+
+"And I think I have proved it."
+
+"That you have. Well, then, be my true friend now. I am in love--really
+in love--this time. You and I only torment each other; let us part
+friends. There are plenty of farmers in Essex that would jump at you. As
+for me, I'll tell you the truth; I have run through every farthing;
+my estate mortgaged beyond its value--two or three writs out against
+me--that is why I slipped down here. My only chance is to marry Money.
+Her father knows I have land, and he knows nothing about the mortgages;
+she is his only daughter. Don't stand in my way, that is a good girl; be
+my friend, as you always were. Hang it all, Phoebe, can't you say a word
+to a fellow that is driven into a corner, instead of glaring at me like
+that? There! I know it is ungrateful; but what can a fellow do? I must
+live like a gentleman or else take a dose of prussic acid; you don't
+want to drive me to that. Why, you proposed to part, last time,
+yourself."
+
+She gave him one majestic, indescribable look, that made even his
+callous heart quiver, and turned away.
+
+Then the scamp admired her for despising him, and could not bear to lose
+her. He followed her, and put forth all those powers of persuading and
+soothing, which had so often proved irresistible. But this time it was
+in vain. The insult was too savage, and his egotism too brutal, for
+honeyed phrases to blind her.
+
+After enduring it a long time with a silent shudder, she turned and
+shook him fiercely off her like some poisonous reptile.
+
+"Do you want me to kill you? I'd liever kill myself for loving such a
+thing as THOU. Go thy ways, man, and let me go mine." In her passion she
+dropped her cultivation for once, and went back to the THOU and THEE of
+her grandam.
+
+He colored up and looked spiteful enough; but he soon recovered his
+cynical egotism, and went off whistling an operatic passage.
+
+She crept to her lodgings, and buried her face in her pillow, and rocked
+herself to and fro for hours in the bitterest agony the heart can feel,
+groaning over her great affection wasted, flung into the dirt.
+
+While she was thus, she heard a little commotion. She came to the window
+and saw Falcon, exquisitely dressed, drive off in his dogcart, attended
+by the acclamations of eight boys. She saw at a glance he was gone
+courting; her knees gave way under her, and, such is the power of the
+mind, this stalwart girl lay weak as water on the sofa, and had not the
+power to go home, though just then she had but one wish, one hope--to
+see her idol's face no more, nor hear his wheedling tongue, that had
+ruined her peace.
+
+The exquisite Mr. Falcon was received by Rosa Lusignan with a certain
+tremor that flattered his hopes. He told her, in charming language, how
+he had admired her at first sight, then esteemed her, then loved her.
+
+She blushed and panted, and showed more than once a desire to interrupt
+him, but was too polite. She heard him out with rising dismay, and he
+offered her his hand and heart.
+
+But by this time she had made up her mind what to say. "O Mr. Falcon!"
+she cried, "how can you speak to me in this way? Why, I am engaged.
+Didn't you know?"
+
+"No; I am sure you are not, or you would never have given me the
+encouragement you have."
+
+"Oh, all engaged young ladies flirt--a little; and everybody here knows
+I am engaged to Dr. Staines."
+
+"Why, I never saw him here."
+
+Rosa's tact was a quality that came and went; so she blushed, and
+faltered out, "We had a little tiff, as lovers will."
+
+"And you did me the honor to select me as cat's-paw to bring him on
+again. Was not that rather heartless?"
+
+Rosa's fitful tact returned to her.
+
+"Oh, sir, do not think so ill of me. I am not heartless, I am only
+unwise; and you are so superior to the people about you; I could not
+help appreciating you, and I thought you knew I was engaged, and so I
+was less on my guard. I hope I shall not lose your esteem, though I have
+no right to anything more. Ah! I see by your face I have behaved very
+ill: pray forgive me."
+
+And with this she turned on the waters of the Nile, better known to you,
+perhaps, as "crocodile tears."
+
+Falcon was a gentleman on the surface, and knew he should only make
+matters worse by quarrelling with her. So he ground his teeth, and said,
+"May your own heart never feel the pangs you have inflicted. I shall
+love you and remember you till my dying day."
+
+He bowed ceremoniously and left her.
+
+"Ay," said he to himself, "I WILL remember you, you heartless jilt, and
+the man you have jilted me for. Staines is his d--d name, is it?"
+
+He drove back crestfallen, bitter, and, for once in his life,
+heart-sick, and drew up at his lodgings. Here he found attendants
+waiting to receive him.
+
+A sheriff's officer took his dogcart and horse under a judgment; the
+disturbance this caused collected a tiny crowd, gaping and grinning, and
+brought Phoebe's white face and eyes swollen with weeping to the window.
+
+Falcon saw her and brazened it out. "Take them," said he, with an oath.
+"I'll have a better turn-out by to-morrow, breakfast-time."
+
+The crowd cheered him for his spirit.
+
+He got down, lit a cigar, chaffed the officer and the crowd, and was, on
+the whole, admired.
+
+Then another officer, who had been hunting him in couples with the
+other, stepped forward and took HIM, for the balance of a judgment debt.
+
+Then the swell's cigar fell out of his mouth, and he was seriously
+alarmed. "Why, Cartwright," said he, "this is too bad. You promised not
+to see me this month. You passed me full in the Strand."
+
+"You are mistaken, sir," said Cartwright, with sullen irony. "I've got a
+twin-brother; a many takes him for me, till they finds the difference."
+Then, lowering his voice, "What call had you to boast in your club you
+had made it right with Bill Cartwright, and he'd never see you? That got
+about, and so I was bound to see you or lose my bread. There's one or
+two I don't see, but then they are real gentlemen, and thinks of me as
+well as theirselves, and doesn't blab."
+
+"I must have been drunk," said Falcon apologetically. "More likely
+blowing a cloud. When you young gents gets a-smoking together,
+you'd tell on your own mothers. Come along, colonel, off we go to
+Merrimashee."
+
+"Why, it is only twenty-six pounds. I have paid the rest."
+
+"More than that; there's the costs."
+
+"Come in, and I'll settle it."
+
+"All right, sir. Jem, watch the back."
+
+"Oh, I shall not try that game with a sharp hand like you, Cartwright."
+
+"You had better not, sir," said Cartwright; but he was softened a little
+by the compliment.
+
+When they were alone, Falcon began by saying it was a bad job for him.
+
+"Why, I thought you was a-going to pay it all in a moment."
+
+"I can't; but I have got a friend over the way that could, if she chose.
+She has always got money, somehow."
+
+"Oh, if it is a she, it is all right."
+
+"I don't know. She has quarrelled with me; but give me a little time.
+Here! have a glass of sherry and a biscuit, while I try it on."
+
+Having thus muffled Cartwright, this man of the world opened his window
+and looked out. The crowd had followed the captured dogcart, so he had
+the street to himself. He beckoned to Phoebe, and after considerable
+hesitation she opened her window.
+
+"Phoebe," said he, in tones of tender regret, admirably natural and
+sweet, "I shall never offend you again; so forgive me this once. I have
+given that girl up."
+
+"Not you," said Phoebe, sullenly.
+
+"Indeed I have. After our quarrel, I started to propose to her; but I
+had not the heart; I came back and left her."
+
+"Time will show. If it is not her, it will be some other, you false,
+heartless villain."
+
+"Come, I say, don't be so hard on me in trouble. I am going to prison."
+
+"So I suppose."
+
+"Ah! but it is worse than you think. I am only taken for a paltry thirty
+pounds or so."
+
+"Thirty-three, fifteen, five," suggested Cartwright, in a muffled
+whisper, his mouth being full of biscuit.
+
+"But once they get me to a sponging-house, detainers will pour in, and
+my cruel creditors will confine me for life."
+
+"It is the best place for you. It will put a stop to your wickedness,
+and I shall be at peace. That's what I have never known, night or day,
+this three years."
+
+"But you will not be happy if you see me go to prison before your eyes.
+Were you ever inside a prison? Just think what it must be to be cooped
+up in those cold grim cells all alone; for they use a debtor like a
+criminal now."
+
+Phoebe shuddered; but she said, bravely, "Well, tell THEM you have been
+a-courting. There was a time I'd have died sooner than see a hair of
+your head hurt; but it is all over now; you have worn me out."
+
+Then she began to cry.
+
+Falcon heaved a deep sigh. "It is no more than I deserve," said he.
+"I'll pack up my things, and go with the officer. Give me one kind word
+at parting, and I'll think of it in my prison, night and day."
+
+He withdrew from the window with another deep sigh, told Cartwright,
+cheerfully, it was all right, and proceeded to pack up his traps.
+
+Meantime Phoebe sat at her window and cried bitterly. Her words had been
+braver than her heart.
+
+Falcon managed to pay the trifle he owed for the lodgings, and presently
+he came out with Cartwright, and the attendant called a cab. His things
+were thrown in, and Cartwright invited him to follow. Then he looked up,
+and cast a genuine look of terror and misery at Phoebe. He thought she
+would have relented before this.
+
+Her heart gave way; I am afraid it would, even without that piteous and
+mute appeal. She opened the window, and asked Mr. Cartwright if he would
+be good enough to come and speak to her.
+
+Cartwright committed his prisoner to the subordinate, and knocked at the
+door of Phoebe's lodgings. She came down herself and let him in. She led
+the way upstairs, motioned him to a seat, sat down by him, and began to
+cry again. She was thoroughly unstrung.
+
+Cartwright was human, and muttered some words of regret that a poor
+fellow must do his duty.
+
+"Oh, it is not that," sobbed Phoebe. "I can find the money. I have found
+more for him than that, many's the time." Then, drying her eyes, "But
+you must know the world, and I dare say you can see how 'tis with me."
+
+"I can," said Cartwright, gravely. "I overheard you and him; and, my
+girl, if you take my advice, why, let him go. He is a gentleman skin
+deep, and dresses well, and can palaver a girl, no doubt; but bless
+your heart, I can see at a glance he is not worth your little finger,
+an honest, decent young woman like you. Why, it is like butter fighting
+with stone. Let him go; or I will tell you what it is, you will hang for
+him some day, or else make away with yourself."
+
+"Ay, sir," said Phoebe, "that's likelier; and if I was to let him go to
+prison, I should sit me down and think of his parting look, and I should
+fling myself into the water for him before I was a day older."
+
+"Ye mustn't do that anyway. While there's life there's hope."
+
+Upon this Phoebe put him a question, and found him ready to do anything
+for her, in reason--provided he was paid for it. And the end of it all
+was, the prisoner was conveyed to London; Phoebe got the requisite sum;
+Falcon was deposited in a third-class carriage bound for Essex. Phoebe
+paid his debt, and gave Cartwright a present, and away rattled the train
+conveying the handsome egotist into temporary retirement, to wit, at
+a village five miles from the Dales' farm. She was too ashamed of her
+young gentleman and herself to be seen with him in her native village.
+On the road down he was full of little practical attentions; she
+received them coldly; his mellifluous mouth was often at her car,
+pouring thanks and praises into it; she never vouchsafed a word of
+reply. All she did was to shudder now and then, and cry at intervals.
+Yet, whenever he left her side, her whole body became restless; and when
+he came back to her, a furtive thrill announced the insane complacency
+his bare contact gave her. Surely, of all the forms in which love
+torments the heart, this was the most terrible and pitiable.
+
+
+Mr. Lusignan found his daughter in tears.
+
+"Why, what is the matter now?" said he, a little peevishly. "We have had
+nothing of this sort of thing lately."
+
+"Papa, it is because I have misconducted myself. I am a foolish,
+imprudent girl. I have been flirting with Mr. Falcon, and he has taken a
+CRUEL advantage of it--proposed to me--this very afternoon--actually!"
+
+"Has he? Well, he is a fine fellow, and has a landed estate in Norfolk.
+There's nothing like land. They may well call it real property--there is
+something to show; you can walk on it, and ride on it, and look out of
+window at it: that IS property."
+
+"Oh, papa! what are you saying? Would you have me marry one man when I
+belong to another?"
+
+"But you don't belong to any one except to me."
+
+"Oh, yes; I do. I belong to my dear Christopher."
+
+"Why, you dismissed him before my very eyes; and very ill you behaved,
+begging your pardon. The man was your able physician and your best
+friend, and said nothing that was not for your good; and you treated him
+like a dog."
+
+"Yes, but he has apologized."
+
+"What for? being treated like a dog?"
+
+"Oh, don't say so, papa! At all events, he has apologized, as a
+gentleman should whenever--whenever"--
+
+"Whenever a lady is in the wrong."
+
+"Don't, papa; and I have asked him to dinner."
+
+"With all my heart. I shall be downright glad to see him again. You used
+him abominably."
+
+"But you need not keep saying so," whined Rosa. "And that is not all,
+dear papa; the worst of it is, Mr. Falcon proposing to me has opened my
+eyes. I am not fit to be trusted alone. I am too fond of dancing, and
+flirting will follow somehow. Oh, think how ill I was a few months ago,
+and how unhappy you were about me! They were killing me. He came and
+saved me. Yes, papa, I owe all this health and strength to Christopher.
+I did take them off, the very next day, and see the effect of it and my
+long walks. I owe him my life, and what I value far more, my good looks.
+La! I wish I had not told you that. And after all this, don't I belong
+to my Christopher? How could I be happy or respect myself if I married
+any one else? And oh, papa! he looks wan and worn. He has been fretting
+for his Simpleton. Oh, dear! I mustn't think of that--it makes me cry;
+and you don't like scenes, do you?"
+
+"Hate 'em!"
+
+"Well, then," said Rosa, coaxingly, "I'll tell you how to end them.
+Marry your Simpleton to the only man who is fit to take care of her. Oh,
+papa! think of his deep, deep affection for me, and pray don't snub
+him if--by any chance--after dinner--he should HAPPEN to ask
+you--something."
+
+"Oh, then it is possible that, by the merest chance, the gentleman you
+have accidentally asked to dinner, may, by some strange fortuity,
+be surprised into asking me a second time for something very much
+resembling my daughter's hand--eh?"
+
+Rosa colored high. "He might, you know. How can I tell what gentlemen
+will say when the ladies have retired and they are left alone
+with--with"--
+
+"With the bottle. Ay, that's true; when the wine is in, the wit is out."
+
+Said Rosa, "Well, if he should happen to be so foolish, pray think of
+ME; of all we owe him, and how much I love him, and ought to love him."
+She then bestowed a propitiatory kiss, and ran off to dress for dinner;
+it was a much longer operation to-day than usual.
+
+Dr. Staines was punctual. Mr. Lusignan commented favorably on that.
+
+"He always is," said Rosa, eagerly.
+
+They dined together. Mr. Lusignan chatted freely, but Staines and Rosa
+were under a feeling of restraint, Staines in particular; he could not
+help feeling that before long his fate must be settled. He would either
+obtain Rosa's hand, or have to resign her to some man of fortune who
+would step in; for beauty such as hers could not long lack brilliant
+offers. Longing, though dreading, to know his fate, he was glad when
+dinner ended.
+
+Rosa sat with them a little while after dinner, then rose, bestowed
+another propitiatory kiss on her father's head, and retired with a
+modest blush, and a look at Christopher that was almost divine.
+
+It inspired him with the courage of lions, and he commenced the attack
+at once.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+"Mr. Lusignan," said he, "the last time I was here you gave me some
+hopes that you might be prevailed on to trust that angel's health and
+happiness to my care."
+
+"Well, Dr. Staines, I will not beat about the bush with you. My judgment
+is still against this marriage; you need not look so alarmed; it does
+not follow I shall forbid it. I feel I have hardly a right to, for my
+Rosa might be in her grave now but for you; and, another thing, when I
+interfered between you two I had no proof you were a man of ability; I
+had only your sweetheart's word for that; and I never knew a case before
+where a young lady's swan did not turn out a goose. Your rare ability
+gives you another chance in the professional battle that is before you;
+indeed, it puts a different face on the whole matter. I still think it
+premature. Come now, would it not be much wiser to wait, and secure
+a good practice before you marry a mere child? There! there! I
+only advise; I don't dictate; you shall settle it together, you two
+wiseacres. Only I must make one positive condition. I have nothing to
+give my child during my lifetime; but one thing I have done for her;
+years ago I insured my life for six thousand pounds; and you must do the
+same. I will not have her thrown on the world a widow, with a child or
+two, perhaps, to support, and not a farthing; you know the insecurity of
+mortal life."
+
+"I do! I do! Why, of course I will insure my life, and pay the annual
+premium out of my little capital, until income flows in."
+
+"Will you hand me over a sum sufficient to pay that premium for five
+years?"
+
+"With pleasure."
+
+"Then I fear," said the old gentleman, with a sigh, "my opposition to
+the match must cease here. I still recommend you to wait; but--there! I
+might just as well advise fire and tow to live neighbors and keep cool."
+
+To show the injustice of this simile, Christopher Staines started up
+with his eyes all aglow, and cried out, rapturously, "Oh, sir, may I
+tell her?"
+
+"Yes, you may tell her," said Lusignan, with a smile. "Stop--what are
+you going to tell her?"
+
+"That you consent, sir. God bless you! God bless you! Oh!"
+
+"Yes, but that I advise you to wait."
+
+"I'll tell her all," said Staines, and rushed out even as he spoke, and
+upset a heavy chair with a loud thud.
+
+"Ah! ah!" cried the old gentleman in dismay, and put his fingers in his
+ears--too late. "I see," said he, "there will be no peace and quiet
+now till they are out of the house." He lighted a soothing cigar to
+counteract the fracas.
+
+"Poor little Rosa! a child but yesterday, and now to encounter the cares
+of a wife, and perhaps a mother. Ah! she is but young, but young."
+
+The old gentleman prophesied truly; from that moment he had no peace
+till he withdrew all semblance of dissent, and even of procrastination.
+
+Christopher insured his life for six thousand pounds, and assigned the
+policy to his wife. Four hundred pounds was handed to Mr. Lusignan to
+pay the premiums until the genius of Dr. Staines should have secured him
+that large professional income, which does not come all at once, even to
+the rare physician, who is Capax, Efficax, Sagax.
+
+The wedding-day was named. The bridesmaids were selected, the guests
+invited. None refused but Uncle Philip. He declined, in his fine
+bold hand, to countenance in person an act of folly he disapproved.
+Christopher put his letter away with a momentary sigh, and would not
+show it Rosa. All other letters they read together, charming pastime
+of that happy period. Presents poured in. Silver teapots, coffeepots,
+sugar-basins, cream-jugs, fruit-dishes, silver-gilt inkstands, albums,
+photograph-books, little candlesticks, choice little services of china,
+shell salt-cellars in a case lined with maroon velvet; a Bible, superb
+in binding and clasps, and everything but the text--that was illegible;
+a silk scarf from Benares; a gold chain from Delhi, six feet long or
+nearly; a Maltese necklace, a ditto in exquisite filagree from Genoa;
+English brooches, a trifle too big and brainless; apostle spoons; a
+treble-lined parasol with ivory stick and handle; an ivory card-case,
+richly carved; workbox of sandal-wood and ivory, etc. Mr. Lusignan's
+City friends, as usual with these gentlemen, sent the most valuable
+things. Every day one or two packages were delivered, and, in opening
+them, Rosa invariably uttered a peculiar scream of delight, and her
+father put his fingers in his ears; yet there was music in this very
+scream, if he would only have listened to it candidly, instead of fixing
+his mind on his vague theory of screams--so formed was she to please the
+ear as well as the eye.
+
+At last came a parcel she opened and stared at, smiling and coloring
+like a rose, but did not scream, being too dumfounded and perplexed;
+for lo! a teapot of some base material, but simple and elegant in form,
+being an exact reproduction of a melon; and inside this teapot a canvas
+bag containing ten guineas in silver, and a wash-leather bag containing
+twenty guineas in gold, and a slip of paper, which Rosa, being now half
+recovered from her stupefaction, read out to her father and Dr. Staines:
+
+
+"People that buy presents blindfold give duplicates and triplicates;
+and men seldom choose to a woman's taste; so be pleased to accept the
+enclosed tea-leaves, and buy for yourself. The teapot you can put on the
+hob, for it is nickel."
+
+
+Rosa looked sore puzzled again. "Papa," said she, timidly, "have we any
+friend that is--a little--deranged?"
+
+"A lot."
+
+"Oh, then, that accounts."
+
+"Why no, love," said Christopher. "I have heard of much learning making
+a man mad, but never of much good sense."
+
+"What! Do you call this sensible?"
+
+"Don't you?"
+
+"I'll read it again," said Rosa. "Well--yes--I declare--it is not so mad
+as I thought; but it is very eccentric."
+
+Lusignan suggested there was nothing so eccentric as common sense,
+especially in time of wedding. "This," said he, "comes from the City. It
+is a friend of mine, some old fox; he is throwing dust in your eyes with
+his reasons; his real reason was that his time is money; it would have
+cost the old rogue a hundred pounds' worth of time--you know the City,
+Christopher--to go out and choose the girl a present; so he has sent his
+clerk out with a check to buy a pewter teapot, and fill it with specie."
+
+"Pewter!" cried Rosa. "No such thing! It's nickel. What is nickel, I
+wonder?"
+
+The handwriting afforded no clew, so there the discussion ended: but it
+was a nice little mystery, and very convenient; made conversation. Rosa
+had many an animated discussion about it with her female friends.
+
+The wedding-day came at last. The sun shone--ACTUALLY, as Rosa observed.
+The carriages drove up. The bridesmaids, principally old schoolfellows
+and impassioned correspondents of Rosa, were pretty, and dressed alike
+and delightfully; but the bride was peerless; her Southern beauty
+literally shone in that white satin dress and veil, and her head was
+regal with the Crown of orange-blossoms. Another crown she had--true
+virgin modesty. A low murmur burst from the men the moment they saw her;
+the old women forgave her beauty on the spot, and the young women almost
+pardoned it; she was so sweet and womanly, and so sisterly to her own
+sex.
+
+When they started for the church she began to tremble, she scarce knew
+why; and when the solemn words were said, and the ring was put on
+her finger, she cried a little, and looked half imploringly at her
+bridesmaids once, as if seared at leaving them for an untried and
+mysterious life with no woman near.
+
+They were married. Then came the breakfast, that hour of uneasiness and
+blushing to such a bride as this; but at last she was released. She sped
+up-stairs, thanking goodness it was over. Down came her last box. The
+bride followed in a plain travelling dress, which her glorious eyes and
+brows and her rich glowing cheeks seemed to illumine: she was handed
+into the carriage, the bridegroom followed. All the young guests
+clustered about the door, armed with white shoes--slippers are gone by.
+
+They started; the ladies flung their white shoes right and left with
+religious impartiality, except that not one of their missiles went at
+the object. The men, more skilful, sent a shower on to the roof of
+the carriage, which is the lucky spot. The bride kissed her hand, and
+managed to put off crying, though it cost her a struggle. The party
+hurrahed; enthusiastic youths gathered fallen shoes, and ran and hurled
+them again with cheerful yells, and away went the happy pair, the
+bride leaning sweetly and confidingly with both her white hands on the
+bridegroom's shoulder, while he dried the tears that would run now at
+leaving home and parent forever, and kissed her often, and encircled her
+with his strong arm, and murmured comfort, and love, and pride, and joy,
+and sweet vows of lifelong tenderness into her ears, that soon stole
+nearer his lips to hear, and the fair cheek grew softly to his shoulder.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Dr. Staines and Mrs. Staines visited France, Switzerland, and the Rhine,
+and passed a month of Elysium before they came to London to face their
+real destiny and fight the battle of life.
+
+And here, methinks, a reader of novels may perhaps cry out and say,
+"What manner of man is this, who marries his hero and heroine, and then,
+instead of leaving them happy for life, and at rest from his uneasy pen
+and all their other troubles, flows coolly on with their adventures?"
+
+To this I can only reply that the old English novel is no rule to me,
+and life is; and I respectfully propose an experiment. Catch eight old
+married people, four of each sex, and say unto them, "Sir," or "Madam,
+did the more remarkable events of your life come to you before marriage
+or after?" Most of them will say "after," and let that be my excuse for
+treating the marriage of Christopher Staines and Rosa Lusignan as merely
+one incident in their lives; an incident which, so far from ending their
+story, led by degrees to more striking events than any that occurred to
+them before they were man and wife.
+
+They returned, then, from their honey tour, and Staines, who was
+methodical and kept a diary, made the following entry therein:--
+
+"We have now a life of endurance, and self-denial, and economy, before
+us; we have to rent a house, and furnish it, and live in it, until
+professional income shall flow in and make all things easy: and we have
+two thousand five hundred pounds left to do it with."
+
+They came to a family hotel, and Dr. Staines went out directly after
+breakfast to look for a house. Acting on a friend's advice, he visited
+the streets and places north of Oxford Street, looking for a good
+commodious house adapted to his business. He found three or four at fair
+rents, neither cheap nor dear, the district being respectable and rather
+wealthy, but no longer fashionable. He came home with his notes, and
+found Rosa beaming in a crisp peignoir, and her lovely head its natural
+size and shape, high-bred and elegant. He sat down, and with her hand
+in his proceeded to describe the houses to her, when a waiter threw open
+the door--"Mrs. John Cole."
+
+"Florence!" cried Rosa, starting up.
+
+In flowed Florence: they both uttered a little squawk of delight,
+and went at each other like two little tigresses, and kissed in swift
+alternation with a singular ardor, drawing their crests back like
+snakes, and then darting them forward and inflicting what, to the male
+philosopher looking on, seemed hard kisses, violent kisses, rather than
+the tender ones to be expected from two tender creatures embracing each
+other.
+
+"Darling," said Rosa, "I knew you would be the first. Didn't I tell you
+so, Christopher?--My husband--my darling Florry! Sit down, love, and
+tell me everything; he has just been looking out for a house. Ah!
+you have got all that over long ago: she has been married six months.
+Florry, you are handsomer than ever; and what a beautiful dress! Ah!
+London is the place. Real Brussels, I declare," and she took hold of her
+friend's lace and gloated on it.
+
+Christopher smiled good-naturedly, and said, "I dare say you ladies have
+a good deal to say to each other."
+
+"Oceans," said Rosa.
+
+"I will go and hunt houses again."
+
+"There's a good husband," said Mrs. Cole, as soon as the door closed
+on him, "and such a fine man! Why, he must be six feet. Mine is rather
+short. But he is very good; refuses me nothing. My will is law."
+
+"That is all right--you are so sensible; but I want governing a little,
+and I like it--actually. Did the dressmaker find it, dear?"
+
+"Oh, no! I had it by me. I bought it at Brussels on our wedding tour: it
+is dearer there than in London."
+
+She said this as if "dearer" and "better" were synonymous.
+
+"But about your house, Rosie dear?"
+
+"Yes, darling, I'll tell you all about it. I never saw a moire
+this shade before. I don't care for them in general; but this is so
+distingue."
+
+Florence rewarded her with a kiss.
+
+"The house," said Rosa. "Oh, he has seen one in Portman Street, and one
+in Gloucester Place."
+
+"Oh, that will never do," cried Mrs. Cole. "It is no use being a
+physician in those out-of-the-way places. He must be in Mayfair."
+
+"Must he?"
+
+"Of course. Besides, then my Johnnie can call him in when they are just
+going to die. Johnnie is a general prac., and makes two thousand a year;
+and he shall call your one in; but he must live in Mayfair. Why, Rosie,
+you would not be such a goose as to live in those places--they are quite
+gone by."
+
+"I shall do whatever you advise me, dear. Oh, what a comfort to have a
+dear friend: and six months married, and knows things. How richly it is
+trimmed! Why, it is nearly all trimmings."
+
+"That is the fashion."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+And after that big word there was no more to be said.
+
+These two ladies in their conversation gravitated towards dress, and
+fell flat on it every half-minute. That great and elevating topic held
+them by a silken cord, but it allowed them to flutter upwards into other
+topics; and in those intervals, numerous though brief, the lady who had
+been married six months found time to instruct the matrimonial novice
+with great authority, and even a shade of pomposity. "My dear, the way
+ladies and gentlemen get a house--in the first place, you don't go about
+yourself like that, and you never go to the people themselves, or you
+are sure to be taken in, but to a respectable house-agent."
+
+"Yes, dear, that must be the best way, one would think."
+
+"Of course it is; and you ask for a house in Mayfair, and he shows you
+several, and recommends you the best, and sees you are not cheated."
+
+"Thank you, love," said Rosa; "now I know what to do; I'll not forget a
+word. And the train so beautifully shaped! Ah! it is only in London or
+Paris they can make a dress flow behind like that," etc., etc.
+
+Dr. Staines came back to dinner in good spirits; he had found a house in
+Harewood Square; good entrance hall, where his gratuitous patients might
+sit on benches; good dining-room where his superior patients might wait;
+and good library, to be used as a consulting-room. Rent only eighty-five
+pounds per annum.
+
+But Rosa told him that would never do; a physician must be in the
+fashionable part of the town.
+
+"Eventually," said Christopher; "but surely at first starting--and you
+know they say little boats should not go too far from shore."
+
+Then Rosa repeated all her friend's arguments, and seemed so unhappy at
+the idea of not living near her, that Staines, who had not yet said
+the hard word "no" to her, gave in; consoling his prudence with the
+reflection that, after all, Mr. Cole could put many a guinea in his
+way, for Mr. Cole was middle-aged,--though his wife was young,--and had
+really a very large practice.
+
+So next day, the newly-wedded pair called on a house-agent in Mayfair,
+and his son and partner went with them to several places. The rents of
+houses equal to that in Harewood Square were three hundred pounds a year
+at least, and a premium to boot.
+
+Christopher told him these were quite beyond the mark. "Very well," said
+the agent. "Then I'll show you a Bijou."
+
+Rosa clapped her hands. "That is the thing for us. We don't want a large
+house, only a beautiful one, and in Mayfair."
+
+"Then the Bijou will be sure to suit you."
+
+He took them to the Bijou.
+
+The Bijou had a small dining-room with one very large window in two
+sheets of plate glass, and a projecting balcony full of flowers; a still
+smaller library, which opened on a square yard enclosed. Here were a
+great many pots, with flowers dead or dying from neglect. On the first
+floor a fair-sized drawing-room, and a tiny one at the back: on the
+second floor, one good bedroom, and a dressing-room, or little bedroom:
+three garrets above.
+
+Rosa was in ecstasies. "It is a nest," said she.
+
+"It is a bank-note," said the agent, stimulating equal enthusiasm, after
+his fashion. "You can always sell the lease again for more money."
+
+Christopher kept cool. "I don't want a house to sell, but to live in,
+and do my business; I am a physician: now the drawing-room is built over
+the entrance to a mews; the back rooms all look into a mews: we shall
+have the eternal noise and smell of a mews. My wife's rest will be
+broken by the carriages rolling in and out. The hall is fearfully small
+and stuffy. The rent is abominably high; and what is the premium for, I
+wonder?"
+
+"Always a premium in Mayfair, sir. A lease is property here: the
+gentleman is not acquainted with this part, madam."
+
+"Oh, yes, he is," said Rosa, as boldly as a six years' wife: "he knows
+everything."
+
+"Then he knows that a house of this kind at a hundred and thirty pounds
+a year in Mayfair is a bank-note."
+
+Staines turned to Rosa. "The poor patients, where am I to receive them?"
+
+"In the stable," suggested the house agent.
+
+"Oh!" said Rosa, shocked.
+
+"Well, then, the coach-house. Why, there's plenty of room for a
+brougham, and one horse, and fifty poor patients at a time: beggars
+musn't be choosers; if you give them physic gratis, that is enough: you
+ain't bound to find 'em a palace to sit down in, and hot coffee and rump
+steaks all round, doctor."
+
+This tickled Rosa so that she burst out laughing, and thenceforward
+giggled at intervals, wit of this refined nature having all the charm of
+novelty for her.
+
+They inspected the stables, which were indeed the one redeeming feature
+in the horrid little Bijou; and then the agent would show them the
+kitchen, and the new stove. He expatiated on this to Mrs. Staines. "Cook
+a dinner for thirty people, madam."
+
+"And there's room for them to eat it--in the road," said Staines.
+
+The agent reminded him there were larger places to be had, by a very
+simple process, viz., paying for them.
+
+Staines thought of the large, comfortable house in Harewood Square. "One
+hundred and thirty pounds a year for this poky little hole?" he groaned.
+
+"Why, it is nothing at all for a Bijou."
+
+"But it is too much for a bandbox."
+
+Rosa laid her hand on his arm, with an imploring glance.
+
+"Well," said he, "I'll submit to the rent, but I really cannot give the
+premium, it is too ridiculous. He ought to bribe me to rent it, not I
+him."
+
+"Can't be done without, sir."
+
+"Well, I'll give a hundred pounds and no more."
+
+"Impossible, sir."
+
+"Then good morning. Now, dearest, just come and see the house at
+Harewood Square,--eighty-five pounds and no premium."
+
+"Will you oblige me with your address, doctor?" said the agent.
+
+"Dr. Staines, Morley's Hotel."
+
+And so they left Mayfair.
+
+Rosa sighed and said, "Oh, the nice little place; and we have lost it
+for two hundred pounds."
+
+"Two hundred pounds is a great deal for us to throw away."
+
+"Being near the Coles would soon have made that up to you: and such a
+cosey little nest."
+
+"Well the house will not run away."
+
+"But somebody is sure to snap it up. It is a Bijou." She was
+disappointed, and half inclined to pout. But she vented her feelings
+in a letter to her beloved Florry, and appeared at dinner as sweet as
+usual.
+
+During dinner a note came from the agent, accepting Dr. Staine's offer.
+He glozed the matter thus: he had persuaded the owner it was better
+to take a good tenant at a moderate loss, than to let the Bijou be
+uninhabited during the present rainy season. An assignment of
+the lease--which contained the usual covenants--would be prepared
+immediately, and Dr. Staines could have possession in forty-eight hours,
+by paying the premium.
+
+Rosa was delighted, and as soon as dinner was over, and the waiters
+gone, she came and kissed Christopher.
+
+He smiled, and said, "Well, you are pleased; that is the principal
+thing. I have saved two hundred pounds, and that is something. It will
+go towards furnishing."
+
+"La! yes," said Rosa, "I forgot. We shall have to get furniture now.
+How nice!" It was a pleasure the man of forecast could have willingly
+dispensed with; but he smiled at her, and they discussed furniture,
+and Christopher, whose retentive memory had picked up a little of
+everything, said there were wholesale upholsterers in the City who sold
+cheaper than the West-end houses, and he thought the best way was to
+measure the rooms in the Bijou, and go to the city with a clear idea of
+what they wanted; ask the prices of various necessary articles, and
+then make a list, and demand a discount of fifteen per cent on the whole
+order, being so considerable, and paid for in cash.
+
+Rosa acquiesced, and told Christopher he was the cleverest man in
+England.
+
+About nine o'clock Mrs. Cole came in to condole with her friend, and
+heard the good news. When Rosa told her how they thought of furnishing,
+she said, "Oh no, you must not do that; you will pay double for
+everything. That is the mistake Johnnie and I made; and after that
+a friend of mine took me to the auction-rooms, and I saw everything
+sold--oh, such bargains; half, and less than half, their value. She
+has furnished her house almost entirely from sales, and she has the
+loveliest things in the world--such ducks of tables, and jardinieres,
+and things; and beautiful rare china--her house swarms with it--for an
+old song. A sale is the place. And then so amusing."
+
+"Yes, but," said Christopher, "I should not like my wife to encounter a
+public room."
+
+"Not alone, of course; but with me. La! Dr. Staines, they are too full
+of buying and selling to trouble their heads about us."
+
+"Oh, Christopher, do let me go with her. Am I always to be a child?"
+
+Thus appealed to before a stranger, Staines replied warmly, "No,
+dearest, no; you cannot please me better than by beginning life in
+earnest. If you two ladies together can face an auction-room, go by all
+means; only I must ask you not to buy china or ormulu, or anything that
+will break or spoil, but only solid, good furniture."
+
+"Won't you come with us?"
+
+"No; or you might feel yourself in leading-strings. Remember the Bijou
+is a small house; choose your furniture to fit it, and then we shall
+save something by its being so small."
+
+This was Wednesday. There was a weekly sale in Oxford Street on Fridays;
+and the ladies made the appointment accordingly.
+
+Next day, after breakfast, Christopher was silent and thoughtful awhile,
+and at last said to Rosa, "I'll show you I don't look on you as a child;
+I'll consult you in a delicate matter."
+
+Rosa's eyes sparkled.
+
+"It is about my Uncle Philip. He has been very cruel; he has wounded
+me deeply; he has wounded me through my wife. I never thought he would
+refuse to come to our marriage."
+
+"And did he? You never showed me his letter."
+
+"You were not my wife then. I kept an affront from you; but now, you
+see, I keep nothing."
+
+"Dear Christie!"
+
+"I am so happy, I have got over that sting--almost; and the memory of
+many kind acts comes back to me; and I don't know what to do. It seems
+ungrateful not to visit him--it seems almost mean to call."
+
+"I'll tell you; take me to see him directly. He won't hate us forever,
+if he sees us often. We may as well begin at once. Nobody hates me
+long."
+
+Christopher was proud of his wife's courage and wisdom. He kissed
+her, begged her to put on the plainest dress she could, and they went
+together to call on Uncle Philip.
+
+When they got to his house in Gloucester Place, Portman Square, Rosa's
+heart began to quake, and she was right glad when the servant said "Not
+at home."
+
+They left their cards and address; and she persuaded Christopher to take
+her to the sale-room to see the things.
+
+A lot of brokers were there, like vultures; and one after another
+stepped forward and pestered them to employ him in the morning. Dr.
+Staines declined their services civilly but firmly, and he and Rosa
+looked over a quantity of furniture, and settled what sort of things to
+buy.
+
+Another broker came up, and whenever the couple stopped before an
+article, proceeded to praise it as something most extraordinary. Staines
+listened in cold, satirical silence, and told his wife, in French, to do
+the same. Notwithstanding their marked disgust, the impudent, intrusive
+fellow stuck to them, and forced his venal criticism on them, and made
+them uncomfortable, and shortened their tour of observation.
+
+"I think I shall come with you to-morrow," said Christopher, "or I shall
+have these blackguards pestering you."
+
+"Oh, Florry will send them to the right-about. She is as brave as a
+lion."
+
+Next day Dr. Staines was sent for into the City at twelve to pay the
+money and receive the lease of the Bijou, and this and the taking
+possession occupied him till four o'clock, when he came to his hotel.
+
+Meantime, his wife and Mrs. Cole had gone to the auction-room.
+
+It was a large room, with a good sprinkling of people, but not crowded
+except about the table. At the head of this table--full twenty feet
+long--was the auctioneer's pulpit, and the lots were brought in turn to
+the other end of the table for sight and sale.
+
+"We must try and get a seat," said the enterprising Mrs. Cole, and
+pushed boldly in; the timid Rosa followed strictly in her wake, and so
+evaded the human waves her leader clove. They were importuned at every
+step by brokers thrusting catalogues on them, with offers of their
+services, yet they soon got to the table. A gentleman resigned one
+chair, a broker another, and they were seated.
+
+Mrs. Staines let down half her veil, but Mrs. Cole surveyed the company
+point-blank.
+
+The broker who had given up his seat, and now stood behind Rosa, offered
+her his catalogue. "No, thank you," said Rosa; "I have one;" and she
+produced it, and studied it, yet managed to look furtively at the
+company.
+
+There were not above a dozen private persons visible from where
+Rosa sat; perhaps as many more in the whole room. They were easily
+distinguishable by their cleanly appearance: the dealers, male or
+female, were more or less rusty, greasy, dirty, aquiline. Not even the
+amateurs were brightly dressed; that fundamental error was confined to
+Mesdames Cole and Staines. The experienced, however wealthy, do not hunt
+bargains in silk and satin.
+
+The auctioneer called "Lot 7. Four saucepans, two trays, a kettle, a
+bootjack, and a towel-horse."
+
+These were put up at two shillings, and speedily knocked down for five
+to a fat old woman in a greasy velvet jacket; blind industry had sewed
+bugles on it, not artfully, but agriculturally.
+
+"The lady on the left!" said the auctioneer to his clerk. That meant
+"Get the money."
+
+The old lady plunged a huge paw into a huge pocket, and pulled out a
+huge handful of coin--copper, silver, and gold--and paid for the lot;
+and Rosa surveyed her dirty hands and nails with innocent dismay. "Oh,
+what a dreadful creature!" she whispered; "and what can she want with
+those old rubbishy things? I saw a hole in one from here." The broker
+overheard, and said, "She is a dealer, ma'am, and the things were given
+away. She'll sell them for a guinea, easy."
+
+"Didn't I tell you?" said Mrs. Cole.
+
+Soon after this the superior lots came on, and six very neat bedroom
+chairs were sold to all appearance for fifteen shillings.
+
+The next lot was identical, and Rosa hazarded a bid,--"Sixteen
+shillings."
+
+Instantly some dealer, one of the hook-nosed that gathered round each
+lot as it came to the foot of the table, cried "Eighteen shillings."
+
+"Nineteen," said Rosa.
+
+"A guinea," said the dealer.
+
+"Don't let it go," said the broker behind her. "Don't let it go, ma'am."
+
+She colored at the intrusion, and left off bidding directly, and
+addressed herself to Mrs. Cole. "Why should I give so much, when the
+last were sold for fifteen shillings?"
+
+The real reason was that the first lot was not bid for at all, except by
+the proprietor. However, the broker gave her a very different solution;
+he said, "The trade always run up a lady or a gentleman. Let me bid for
+you; they won't run me up; they know better."
+
+Rosa did not reply, but looked at Mrs. Cole.
+
+"Yes, dear," said that lady; "you had much better let him bid for you."
+
+"Very well," said Rosa; "you can bid for this chest of drawers--lot 25."
+
+When lot 25 came on, the broker bid in the silliest possible way, if
+his object had been to get a bargain. He began to bid early and
+ostentatiously; the article was protected by somebody or other there
+present, who now of course saw his way clear; he ran it up audaciously,
+and it was purchased for Rosa at about the price it could have been
+bought for at a shop.
+
+The next thing she wanted was a set of oak chairs.
+
+They went up to twenty-eight pounds; then she said, "I shall give no
+more, sir."
+
+"Better not lose them," said the agent; "they are a great bargain;" and
+bid another pound for her on his own responsibility.
+
+They were still run up, and Rosa peremptorily refused to give any more.
+She lost them, accordingly, by good luck. Her faithful broker looked
+blank; so did the proprietor.
+
+But, as the sale proceeded, she being young, the competition, though
+most of it sham, being artful and exciting, and the traitor she employed
+constantly puffing every article, she was drawn in to wishing for
+things, and bidding by her feelings.
+
+Then her traitor played a game that has been played a hundred times, and
+the perpetrators never once lynched, as they ought to be, on the spot.
+He signalled a confederate with a hooked nose; the Jew rascal bid
+against the Christian scoundrel, and so they ran up the more enticing
+things to twice their value under the hammer.
+
+Rosa got flushed, and her eye gleamed like a gambler's, and she bought
+away like wildfire. In which sport she caught sight of an old gentleman,
+with little black eyes that kept twinkling at her.
+
+She complained of these eyes to Mrs. Cole. "Why does he twinkle so? I
+can see it is at me. I am doing something foolish--I know I am."
+
+Mrs. Cole turned, and fixed a haughty stare on the old gentleman. Would
+you believe it? instead of sinking through the floor, he sat his ground,
+and retorted with a cold, clear grin.
+
+But now, whenever Rosa's agent bid for her, and the other man of straw
+against him, the black eyes twinkled, and Rosa's courage began to ooze
+away. At last she said, "That is enough for one day. I shall go. Who
+could bear those eyes?"
+
+The broker took her address; so did the auctioneer's clerk. The
+auctioneer asked her for no deposit; her beautiful, innocent, and
+high-bred face was enough for a man who was always reading faces, and
+interpreting them.
+
+And so they retired.
+
+But this charming sex is like that same auctioneer's hammer, it cannot
+go abruptly. It is always going--going--going--a long time before it is
+gone. I think it would perhaps loiter at the door of a jail, with the
+order of release in its hand, after six years' confinement. Getting up
+to go quenches in it the desire to go. So these ladies having got up to
+go, turned and lingered, and hung fire so long, that at last another set
+of oak chairs came up. "Oh! I must see what these go for," said Rosa, at
+the door.
+
+The bidding was mighty languid now Rosa's broker was not stimulating
+it; and the auctioneer was just knocking down twelve chairs--oak and
+leather--and two arm-chairs, for twenty pounds, when, casting his eyes
+around, he caught sight of Rosa looking at him rather excited. He looked
+inquiringly at her. She nodded slightly; he knocked them down to her at
+twenty guineas, and they were really a great bargain.
+
+"Twenty-two," cried the dealer.
+
+"Too late," said the auctioneer.
+
+"I spoke with the hammer, sir."
+
+"After the hammer, Isaacs."
+
+"Shelp me God, we was together."
+
+One or two more of his tribe confirmed this pious falsehood, and
+clamored to have them put up again.
+
+"Call the next lot," said the auctioneer, peremptorily. "Make up your
+mind a little quicker next time, Mr. Isaacs; you have been long enough
+at it to know the value of oak and moroccar."
+
+Mrs. Staines and her friend now started for Morley's Hotel, but went
+round by Regent Street, whereby they got glued at Peter Robinson's
+window, and nine other windows; and it was nearly five o'clock when they
+reached Morley's. As they came near the door of their sitting-room, Mrs.
+Staines heard somebody laughing and talking to her husband. The
+laugh, to her subtle ears, did not sound musical and genial, but keen,
+satirical, unpleasant; so it was with some timidity she opened the door,
+and there sat the old chap with the twinkling eyes. Both parties stared
+at each other a moment.
+
+"Why, it is them," cried the old gentleman. "Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!"
+
+Rosa colored all over, and felt guilty somehow, and looked miserable.
+
+"Rosa dear," said Dr. Staines, "this is our Uncle Philip."
+
+"Oh!" said Rosa, and turned red and pale by turns; for she had a great
+desire to propitiate Uncle Philip.
+
+"You were in the auction-room, sir?" said Mrs. Cole, severely.
+
+"I was, madam. He! he!"
+
+"Furnishing a house?"
+
+"No, ma'am. I go to a dozen sales a week; but it is not to buy--I enjoy
+the humors. Did you ever hear of Robert Burton, ma'am?"
+
+"No. Yes; a great traveller, isn't he? Discovered the Nile--or the
+Niger--or SOMETHING?"
+
+This majestic vagueness staggered old Crusty at first, but he recovered
+his equilibrium, and said, "Why, yes, now I think of it, you are right;
+he has travelled farther than most of us, for about two centuries ago
+he visited that bourn whence no traveller returns. Well, when he was
+alive--he was a student of Christchurch--he used to go down to a certain
+bridge over the Isis and enjoy the chaff of the bargemen. Now there are
+no bargemen left to speak of; the mantle of Bobby Burton's bargees has
+fallen on the Jews and demi-semi-Christians that buy and sell furniture
+at the weekly auctions; thither I repair to hear what little coarse wit
+is left us. Used to go to the House of Commons; but they are getting too
+civil by half for my money. Besides, characters come out in an auction.
+For instance, only this very day I saw two ladies enter, in gorgeous
+attire, like heifers decked for sacrifice, and reduce their spoliation
+to a certainty by employing a broker to bid. Now, what is a broker?
+A fellow who is to be paid a shilling in the pound for all articles
+purchased. What is his interest, then? To buy cheap? Clearly not. He is
+paid in proportion to the dearness of the article."
+
+Rosa's face began to work piteously.
+
+"Accordingly, what did the broker in question do? He winked to another
+broker, and these two bid against one another, over their victim's head,
+and ran everything she wanted up at least a hundred per cent above the
+value. So open and transparent a swindle I have seldom seen, even in an
+auction-room. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!"
+
+His mirth was interrupted by Rosa going to her husband, hiding her head
+on his shoulder, and meekly crying.
+
+Christopher comforted her like a man. "Don't you cry, darling," said he;
+"how should a pure creature like you know the badness of the world all
+in a moment? If it is my wife you are laughing at, Uncle Philip, let me
+tell you this is the wrong place. I'd rather a thousand times have her
+as she is, than armed with the cunning and suspicions of a hardened old
+worldling like you."
+
+"With all my heart," said Uncle Philip, who, to do him justice, could
+take blows as well as give them; "but why employ a broker? Why pay a
+scoundrel five per cent to make you pay a hundred per cent? Why pay a
+noisy fool a farthing to open his mouth for you when you have taken the
+trouble to be there yourself, and have got a mouth of your own to bid
+discreetly with? Was ever such an absurdity?" He began to get angry.
+
+"Do you want to quarrel with me, Uncle Philip?" said Christopher, firing
+up; "because sneering at my Rosa is the way, and the only way, and the
+sure way."
+
+"Oh, no," said Rosa, interposing. "Uncle Philip was right. I am very
+foolish and inexperienced, but I am not so vain as to turn from good
+advice. I will never employ a broker again, sir."
+
+Uncle Philip smiled and looked pleased.
+
+Mrs. Cole caused a diversion by taking leave, and Rosa followed her
+down-stairs. On her return she found Christopher telling his uncle all
+about the Bijou, and how he had taken it for a hundred and thirty pounds
+a year and a hundred pounds premium, and Uncle Philip staring fearfully.
+
+At last he found his tongue. "The Bijou!" said he. "Why, that is a name
+they gave to a little den in Dear Street, Mayfair. You haven't ever been
+and taken THAT! Built over a mews."
+
+Christopher groaned. "That is the place, I fear."
+
+"Why the owner is a friend of mine; an old patient. Stables stunk him
+out. Let it to a man; I forget his name. Stables stunk HIM out. He said,
+'I shall go.' 'You can't,' said my friend; 'you have taken a lease.'
+'Lease be d--d,' said the other; 'I never took YOUR house; here's quite
+a large stench not specified in your description of the property--IT
+CAN'T BE THE SAME PLACE;' flung the lease at his head, and cut like the
+wind to foreign parts less odoriferous. I'd have got you the hole for
+ninety; but you are like your wife--you must go to an agent. What! don't
+you know that an agent is a man acting for you with an interest opposed
+to yours? Employing an agent! it is like a Trojan seeking the aid of
+a Greek. You needn't cry, Mrs. Staines; your husband has been let in
+deeper than you have. Now, you are young people beginning life; I'll
+give you a piece of advice. Employ others to do what you can't do,
+and it must be done; but never to do anything you can do better for
+yourselves! Agent! The word is derived from a Latin word 'agere,' to
+do; and agents act up to their etymology, for they invariably DO the
+nincompoop that employs them, or deals with them, in any mortal way. I'd
+have got you that beastly little Bijou for ninety pounds a year."
+
+Uncle Philip went away crusty, leaving the young couple finely mortified
+and discouraged.
+
+That did not last very long. Christopher noted the experience and Uncle
+Phil's wisdom in his diary, and then took his wife on his knee, and
+comforted her, and said, "Never mind; experience is worth money, and
+it always has to be bought. Those who cheat us will die poorer than we
+shall, if we are honest and economical. I have observed that people are
+seldom ruined by the vices of others; these may hurt them, of course;
+but it is only their own faults and follies that can destroy them."
+
+"Ah! Christie," said Rosa, "you are a man! Oh, the comfort of being
+married to A MAN. A man sees the best side. I do adore men. Dearest, I
+will waste no more of your money. I will go to no more sales."
+
+Christopher saw she was deeply mortified, and he said, quietly, "On the
+contrary, you will go to the very next. Only take Uncle Philip's advice,
+employ no broker; and watch the prices things fetch when you are not
+bidding; and keep cool."
+
+She caressed his ears with both her white hands, and thanked him for
+giving her another trial. So that trouble melted in the sunshine of
+conjugal love.
+
+Notwithstanding the agent's solemn assurance, the Bijou was out of
+repair. Dr. Staines detected internal odors, as well as those that
+flowed in from the mews. He was not the man to let his wife perish by
+miasma; so he had the drains all up, and actually found brick drains,
+and a cesspool. He stopped that up, and laid down new pipe drains, with
+a good fall, and properly trapped. The old drains were hidden, after
+the manner of builders. He had the whole course of his new drains marked
+upon all the floors they passed under, and had several stones and boards
+hinged to facilitate examination at any period.
+
+But all this, with the necessary cleaning, whitewashing, painting, and
+papering, ran away with money. Then came Rosa's purchases, which, to her
+amazement, amounted to one hundred and ninety pounds, and not a carpet,
+curtain, or bed amongst the lot. Then there was the carriage home from
+the auction-room, an expense one avoids by buying at a shop, and
+the broker claimed his shilling in the pound. This, however, Staines
+refused. The man came and blustered. Rosa, who was there, trembled.
+Then, for the first time, she saw her husband's brow lower; he seemed
+transfigured, and looked terrible. "You scoundrel," said he, "you set
+another villain like yourself to bid against you, and you betrayed the
+innocent lady that employed you. I could indict you and your confederate
+for a conspiracy. I take the goods out of respect for my wife's credit,
+but you shall gain nothing by swindling her. Be off, you heartless
+miscreant, or I'll"--
+
+"I'll take the law, if you do."
+
+"Take it, then! I'll give you something to howl for;" and he seized him
+with a grasp so tremendous that the fellow cried out in dismay, "Oh!
+don't hit me, sir; pray don't."
+
+On this abject appeal, Staines tore the door open with his left hand,
+and spun the broker out into the passage with his right. Two movements
+of this angry Hercules, and the man was literally whirled out of sight
+with a rapidity and swiftness almost ludicrous; it was like a trick in
+a pantomime. A clatter on the stairs betrayed that he had gone down the
+first few steps in a wholesale and irregular manner, though he had just
+managed to keep his feet.
+
+As for Staines, he stood there still lowering like thunder, and his
+eyes like hot coals; but his wife threw her tender arms around him, and
+begged him consolingly not to mind.
+
+She was trembling like an aspen.
+
+"Dear me," said Christopher, with a ludicrous change to marked
+politeness and respect, "I forgot YOU, in my righteous indignation."
+Next he became uxorious. "Did they frighten her, a duck? Sit on my
+knee, darling, and pull my hair, for not being more considerate--there!
+there!"
+
+This was followed by the whole absurd soothing process, as practised by
+manly husbands upon quivering and somewhat hysterical wives, and ended
+with a formal apology. "You must not think that I am passionate; on the
+contrary, I am always practising self-government. My maxim is, Animum
+rege qui nisi paret imperat, and that means, Make your temper your
+servant, or else it will be your master. But to ill-use my dear little
+wife--it is unnatural, it is monstrous, it makes my blood boil."
+
+"Oh, dear! don't go into another. It is all over. I can't bear to see
+you in a passion; you are so terrible, so beautiful. Ah! they are fine
+things, courage and strength. There's nothing I admire so much."
+
+"Why, they are as common as dirt. What I admire is modesty, timidity,
+sweetness; the sensitive cheek that pales or blushes at a word, the
+bosom that quivers, and clings to a fellow whenever anything goes
+wrong."
+
+"Oh, that is what you admire, is it?" said Rosa dryly.
+
+"Admire it?" said Christopher, not seeing the trap; "I adore it."
+
+"Then, Christie, dear, you are a Simpleton, that is all. And we are made
+for one another."
+
+The house was to be furnished and occupied as soon as possible; so Mrs.
+Staines and Mrs. Cole went to another sale-room. Mrs. Staines remembered
+all Uncle Philip had said, and went plainly dressed; but her friend
+declined to sacrifice her showy dress to her friend's interests. Rosa
+thought that a little unkind, but said nothing.
+
+In this auction-room they easily got a place at the table, but did not
+find it heaven; for a number of secondhand carpets were in the sale,
+and these, brimful of dust, were all shown on the table, and the dirt
+choked, and poisoned our fair friends. Brokers pestered them, until at
+last Rosa, smarting under her late exposure, addressed the auctioneer
+quietly, in her silvery tones: "Sir, these gentlemen are annoying me by
+forcing their services on me. I do not intend to buy at all unless I can
+be allowed to bid for myself."
+
+When Rosa, blushing and amazed at her own boldness, uttered these words,
+she little foresaw their effect. She had touched a popular sore.
+
+"You are quite right, madam," said a respectable tradesman opposite her.
+"What business have these dirty fellows, without a shilling in their
+pockets, to go and force themselves on a lady against her will?"
+
+"It has been complained of in the papers again and again," said another.
+
+"What! mayn't we live as well as you?" retorted a broker.
+
+"Yes, but not to force yourself on a lady. Why, she'd give you in charge
+of the police if you tried it on outside."
+
+Then there was a downright clamor of discussion and chaff.
+
+Presently up rises very slowly a countryman so colossal, that it seemed
+as if he would never have done getting up, and gives his experiences. He
+informed the company, in a broad Yorkshire dialect, that he did a bit
+in furniture, and at first starting these brokers buzzed about him like
+flies, and pestered him. "Aah damned 'em pretty hard," said he, "but
+they didn't heed any. So then ah spoke 'em civil, and ah said, 'Well,
+lads, I dinna come fra Yorkshire to sit like a dummy and let you buy
+wi' my brass; the first that pesters me again ah'll just fell him on
+t' plaace, like a caulf, and ah'm not very sure he'll get up again in a
+hurry.' So they dropped me like a hot potato; never pestered me again.
+But if they won't give over pestering you, mistress, ah'll come round
+and just stand behind your chair, and bring nieve with me," showing a
+fist like a leg of mutton.
+
+"No, no," said the auctioneer, "that will not do. I will have no
+disturbance here. Call the policeman."
+
+While the clerk went to the door for the bobby, a gentleman reminded
+the auctioneer that the journals had repeatedly drawn attention to the
+nuisance.
+
+"Fault of the public, not mine, sir. Policeman, stand behind that lady's
+chair, and if anybody annoys her put him quietly into the street."
+
+"This auction-room will be to let soon," said a voice at the end of the
+table.
+
+"This auction-room," said the auctioneer, master of the gay or grave at
+a moment's notice, "is supported by the public and the trade; it is not
+supported by paupers."
+
+A Jew upholsterer put in his word. "I do my own business; but I like to
+let a poor man live."
+
+"Jonathan," said the auctioneer to one of his servants, "after this sale
+you may put up the shutters; we have gone and offended Mr. Jacobs. He
+keeps a shop in Blind Alley, Whitechapel. Now then, lot 69."
+
+Rosa bid timidly for one or two lots, and bought them cheap.
+
+The auctioneer kept looking her way, and she had only to nod.
+
+The obnoxious broker got opposite her, and ran her up a little out of
+spite; but as he had only got half a crown about him, and no means of
+doubling it, he dared not go far.
+
+On the other side of the table was a figure to which Rosa's eyes often
+turned with interest--a fair young boy about twelve years old; he had
+golden hair, and was in deep mourning. His appearance interested Rosa,
+and she wondered how he came there, and why; he looked like a lamb
+wedged in among wolves, a flower among weeds. As the lots proceeded, the
+boy seemed to get uneasy; and at last, when lot '73 was put up, anybody
+could see in his poor little face that he was there to bid for it.
+
+"Lot '73, an armchair covered in morocco. An excellent and useful
+article. Should not be at all surprised if it was made by Gillow."
+
+"Gillow would though," said Jacobs, who owed him a turn.
+
+Chorus of dealers.--"Haw! haw!"
+
+The auctioneer.--"I like to hear some people run a lot down; shows they
+are going to bid for it in earnest. Well, name your own price. Five
+pounds to begin?"
+
+Now if nobody had spoken the auctioneer would have gone on, "Well, four
+pounds then--three, two, whatever you like," and at last obtained a bona
+fide offer of thirty shillings; but the moment he said "Five pounds to
+begin," the boy in black lifted up his childish treble and bid thus,
+"Five pound ten"--"six pounds"--"six pound ten"--"seven pounds"--"seven
+pound ten"--"eight pounds"--"eight pound ten"--"nine pounds"--"nine
+pound ten"--"ten pounds!" without interruption, and indeed almost in a
+breath.
+
+There was a momentary pause of amazement, and then an outburst of chaff.
+
+"Nice little boy!"
+
+"Didn't he say his lesson well?"
+
+"Favor us with your card, sir. You are a gent as knows how to buy."
+
+"What did he stop for? If it's worth ten, it is worth a hundred."
+
+"Bless the child!" said a female dealer, kindly, "what made you go on
+like that? Why, there was no one bid against you! you'd have got it for
+two pounds--a rickety old thing."
+
+Young master began to whimper. "Why, the gentleman said, 'Five pounds
+to BEGIN.' It was the chair poor grandpapa always sat in, and all the
+things are sold, and mamma said it would break her heart to lose it. She
+was too ill to come, so she sent me. She told me I was not to let it
+be sold away from us for less than ten pounds, or she sh--should be
+m--m--miserable," and the poor little fellow began to cry. Rosa followed
+suit promptly but unobtrusively.
+
+"Sentiment always costs money," said Mr. Jacobs, gravely.
+
+"How do you know?" asked Mr. Cohen. "Have YOU got any on hand? I never
+seen none at your shop."
+
+Some tempting things now came up, and Mrs. Staines bid freely; but
+all of a sudden she looked down the table, and there was Uncle Philip,
+twinkling as before. "Oh, dear! what am I doing now!" thought she. "I
+have got no broker."
+
+She bid on, but in fear and trembling, because of those twinkling eyes.
+At last she mustered courage, wrote on a leaf of her pocket-book, and
+passed it down to him: "It would be only kind to warn me. What am I
+doing wrong?"
+
+He sent her back a line directly: "Auctioneer running you up himself.
+Follow his eye when he bids; you will see there is no bona fide bidder
+at your prices."
+
+Rosa did so, and found that it was true.
+
+She nodded to Uncle Philip; and, with her expressive face, asked him
+what she should do.
+
+The old boy must have his joke. So he wrote back: "Tell him, as you see
+he has a fancy for certain articles, you would not be so discourteous as
+to bid against him."
+
+The next article but one was a drawing-room suite Rosa wanted; but the
+auctioneer bid against her; so at eighteen pounds she stopped.
+
+"It is against you, madam," said the auctioneer.
+
+"Yes, sir," said Rosa; "but as you are the only bidder, and you have
+been so kind to me, I would not think of opposing you."
+
+The words were scarcely out of her mouth, when they were greeted with
+a roar of Homeric laughter that literally shook the room, and this time
+not at the expense of the innocent speaker.
+
+"That's into your mutton, governor."
+
+"Sharp's the word this time."
+
+"I say, governor, don't you want a broker to bid for ye?"
+
+"Wink at me next time, sir; I'll do the office for you."
+
+"No greenhorns left now."
+
+"That lady won't give a ten-pund note for her grandfather's armchair."
+
+"Oh, yes, she will, if it's stuffed with banknotes."
+
+"Put the next lot up with the owner's name and the reserve price. Open
+business."
+
+"And sing a psalm at starting."
+
+"A little less noise in Judaea, if you please," said the auctioneer, who
+had now recovered from the blow. "Lot 97."
+
+This was a very pretty marqueterie cabinet; it stood against the wall,
+and Rosa had set her heart upon it. Nobody would bid. She had muzzled
+the auctioneer effectually.
+
+"Your own price."
+
+"Two pounds," said Rosa.
+
+A dealer offered guineas; and it advanced slowly to four pounds and half
+a crown, at which it was about to be knocked down to Rosa, when suddenly
+a new bidder arose in the broker Rosa had rejected. They bid slowly and
+sturdily against each other, until a line was given to Rosa from Uncle
+Philip.
+
+"This time it is your own friend, the snipe-nosed woman. She telegraphed
+a broker."
+
+Rosa read, and crushed the note. "Six guineas," said she.
+
+"Six-ten."
+
+"Seven."
+
+"Seven-ten."
+
+"Eight."
+
+"Eight-ten."
+
+"Ten guineas," said Rosa; and then, with feminine cunning, stealing a
+sudden glance, caught her friend leaning back and signalling the broker
+not to give in.
+
+"Eleven pounds."
+
+"Twelve."
+
+"Thirteen."
+
+"Fourteen."
+
+"Sixteen."
+
+"Eighteen."
+
+"Twenty."
+
+"Twenty guineas."
+
+"It is yours, my faithful friend," said Rosa, turning suddenly round
+to Mrs. Cole, with a magnificent glance no one would have thought her
+capable of.
+
+Then she rose and stalked away.
+
+Dumfounded for the moment, Mrs. Cole followed her, and stopped her at
+the door.
+
+"Why, Rosie dear, it is the only thing I have bid for. There I've sat by
+your side like a mouse."
+
+Rosa turned gravely towards her. "You know it is not that. You had only
+to tell me you wanted it. I would never have been so mean as to bid
+against you."
+
+"Mean, indeed!" said. Florence, tossing her head.
+
+"Yes, mean; to draw back and hide behind the friend you were with,
+and employ the very rogue she had turned off. But it is my own fault.
+Cecilia warned me against you. She always said you were a treacherous
+girl."
+
+"And I say you are an impudent little minx. Only just married, and going
+about like two vagabonds, and talk to me like that!"
+
+"We are not going about like two vagabonds. We have taken a house in
+Mayfair."
+
+"Say a stable."
+
+"It was by your advice, you false-hearted creature."
+
+"You are a fool."
+
+"You are worse; you are a traitress."
+
+"Then don't you have anything to do with me."
+
+"Heaven forbid I should, you treacherous thing!"
+
+"You insolent--insolent--I hate you."
+
+"And I despise you."
+
+"I always hated you at bottom."
+
+"That's why you pretended to love me, you wretch."
+
+"Well, I pretend no more. I am your enemy for life."
+
+"Thank you. You have told the truth for once in your life."
+
+"I have. And he shall never call in your husband; so you may leave
+Mayfair as soon as you like."
+
+"Not to please you, madam. We can get on without traitors."
+
+And so they parted, with eyes that gleamed like tigers.
+
+Rosa drove home in great agitation, and tried to tell Christopher; but
+choked, and became hysterical. The husband-physician coaxed and scolded
+her out of that; and presently in came Uncle Philip, full of the humors
+of the auction-room. He told about the little boy with a delight that
+disgusted Mrs. Staines, and then was particularly merry on female
+friendships. "Fancy a man going to a sale with his friend, and bidding
+against him on the sly."
+
+"She is no friend of mine. We are enemies for life."
+
+"And you were to be friends till death," said Staines, with a sigh.
+
+Philip inquired who she was.
+
+"Mrs. John Cole."
+
+"Not of Curzon Street?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And you have quarrelled with her?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, but her husband is a general practitioner."
+
+"She is a traitress."
+
+"But her husband could put a good deal of money in Christopher's way."
+
+"I can't help it. She is a traitress."
+
+"And you have quarrelled with her about an old wardrobe."
+
+"No, for her disloyalty, and her base good-for-nothingness. Oh! oh! oh!"
+
+Uncle Philip got up, looking sour. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Christopher,"
+said he, very dryly.
+
+Christopher accompanied him to the foot of the stairs. "Well,
+Christopher," said he, "matrimony is a blunder at the best; and you have
+not done the thing by halves. You have married a simpleton. She will be
+your ruin."
+
+"Uncle Philip, since you only come here to insult us, I hope in future
+you will stay at home."
+
+"Oh! with pleasure, sir. Good-by!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Christopher Staines came back, looking pained and disturbed. "There,"
+said he, "I feared it would come to this. I have quarrelled with Uncle
+Philip."
+
+"Oh! how could you?"
+
+"He affronted me."
+
+"What about?"
+
+"Never you mind. Don't let us say anything more about it, darling. It is
+a pity, a sad pity--he was a good friend of mine once."
+
+He paused, entered what had passed in his diary, and then sat down, with
+a gentle expression of sadness on his manly features. Rosa hung about
+him, soft and pitying, till it cleared away, at all events for the time.
+
+Next day they went together to clear the goods Rosa had purchased.
+Whilst the list was being made out in the office, in came the
+fair-haired boy, with a ten-pound note in his very hand. Rosa caught
+sight of it, and turned to the auctioneer, with a sweet, pitying face:
+
+"Oh! sir, surely you will not take all that money from him, poor child,
+for a rickety old chair."
+
+The auctioneer stared with amazement at her simplicity, and said, "What
+would the vendors say to me?"
+
+She looked distressed, and said, "Well, then, really we ought to raise a
+subscription, poor thing!"
+
+"Why, ma'am," said the auctioneer, "he isn't hurt: the article belonged
+to his mother and her sister; the brother-in-law isn't on good terms;
+so he demanded a public sale. She will get back four pun ten out of it."
+Here the clerk put in his word. "And there's five pounds paid, I forgot
+to tell you."
+
+"Oh! left a deposit, did he?"
+
+"No, sir. But the laughing hyena gave you five pounds at the end of the
+sale."
+
+"The laughing hyena, Mr. Jones?"
+
+"Oh! beg pardon; that is what we call him in the room. He has got such a
+curious laugh."
+
+"Oh! I know the gent. He is a retired doctor. I wish he'd laugh less
+and buy more: and HE gave you five pounds towards the young gentleman's
+arm-chair! Well, I should as soon have expected blood from a flint. You
+have got five pounds to pay, sir: so now the chair will cost your mamma
+ten shillings. Give him the order and the change, Mr. Jones."
+
+Christopher and Rosa talked this over in the room whilst the men were
+looking out their purchases. "Come," said Rosa; "now I forgive him
+sneering at me; his heart is not really hard, you see." Staines, on the
+contrary, was very angry. "What!" he cried, "pity a boy who made one
+bad bargain, that, after all, was not a very bad bargain; and he had no
+kindness, nor even common humanity, for my beautiful Rosa, inexperienced
+as a child, and buying for her husband, like a good, affectionate,
+honest creature, amongst a lot of sharpers and hard-hearted cynics--like
+himself."
+
+"It WAS cruel of him," said Rosa, altering her mind in a moment, and
+half inclined to cry.
+
+This made Christopher furious. "The ill-natured, crotchety, old--the
+fact is, he is a misogynist."
+
+"Oh, the wretch!" said Rosa warmly. "And what is that?"
+
+"A woman-hater."
+
+"Oh! is that all? Why, so do I--after that Florence Cole. Women are
+mean, heartless things. Give me men; they are loyal and true."
+
+"All of them?" inquired Christopher, a little satirically. "Read the
+papers."
+
+"Every soul of them," said Mrs. Staines, passing loftily over the
+proposed test. "That is, all the ones I care about; and that is my own,
+own one."
+
+Disagreeable creatures to have about one--these simpletons!
+
+Mrs. Staines took Christopher to shops to buy the remaining requisites:
+and in three days more the house was furnished, two female servants
+engaged, and the couple took their luggage over to the Bijou.
+
+Rosa was excited and happy at the novelty of possession and authority,
+and that close sense of house proprietorship which belongs to woman. By
+dinner-time she could have told you how many shelves there were in every
+cupboard, and knew the Bijou by heart in a way that Christopher never
+knew it. All this ended, as running about and excitement generally does,
+with my lady being exhausted, and lax with fatigue. So then he made her
+lie down on a little couch, while he went through his accounts.
+
+When he had examined all the bills carefully he looked very grave, and
+said, "Who would believe this? We began with three thousand pounds. It
+was to last us several years--till I got a good practice. Rosa, there is
+only fourteen hundred and forty pounds left."
+
+"Oh, impossible!" said Rosa. "Oh, dear! why did I ever enter a
+saleroom?"
+
+"No, no, my darling; you were bitten once or twice, but you made some
+good bargains too. Remember there was four hundred pounds set apart for
+my life policy."
+
+"What a waste of money!"
+
+"Your father did not think so. Then the lease; the premium; repairs of
+the drains that would have poisoned my Rosa; turning the coach-house
+into a dispensary; painting, papering, and furnishing; china, and linen,
+and everything to buy. We must look at this seriously. Only fourteen
+hundred and forty pounds left. A slow profession. No friends. I have
+quarrelled with Uncle Philip: you with Mrs. Cole; and her husband would
+have launched me."
+
+"And it was to please her we settled here. Oh, I could kill her: nasty
+cat!"
+
+"Never mind; it is not a case for despondency, but it is for prudence.
+All we have to do is to look the thing in the face, and be very
+economical in everything. I had better give you an allowance for
+housekeeping; and I earnestly beg you to buy things yourself whilst you
+are a poor man's wife, and pay ready money for everything. My mother was
+a great manager, and she always said, 'There is but one way: be your own
+market-woman, and pay on the spot; never let the tradesmen get you on
+their books, or, what with false weight, double charges, and the things
+your servants order that never enter the house, you lose more than a
+hundred a year by cheating.'"
+
+Rosa yielded a languid assent to this part of his discourse, and it
+hardly seemed to enter her mind; but she raised no objection; and in due
+course he made her a special allowance for housekeeping.
+
+It soon transpired that medical advice was to be had, gratis, at the
+Bijou, from eight till ten: and there was generally a good attendance.
+But a week passed, and not one patient came of the class this couple
+must live by. Christopher set this down to what people call "the
+transition period:" his Kent patients had lost him; his London patients
+not found him. He wrote to all his patients in the country, and many of
+his pupils at the university, to let them know where he was settled: and
+then he waited.
+
+Not a creature came.
+
+Rosa bore this very well for a time, so long as the house was a novelty;
+but when that excitement was worn out, she began to be very dull,
+and used to come and entice him out to walk with her: he would look
+wistfully at her, but object that, if he left the house, he should be
+sure to lose a patient.
+
+"Oh, they won't come any more for our staying in--tiresome things!" said
+Rosa.
+
+But Christopher would kiss her, and remain firm. "My love," said he,
+"you do not realize how hard a fight there is before us. How should you?
+You are very young. No, for your sake, I must not throw a chance away.
+Write to your female friends: that will while away an hour or two."
+
+"What, after that Florence Cole?"
+
+"Write to those who have not made such violent professions."
+
+"So I will, dear. Especially to those that are married and come to
+London. Oh, and I'll write to that cold-blooded thing, Lady Cicely
+Treherne. Why do you shake your head?"
+
+"Did I? I was not aware. Well, dear, if ladies of rank were to come
+here, I fear they might make you discontented with your lot."
+
+"All the women on earth could not do that. However, the chances are she
+will not come near me: she left the school quite a big girl, an immense
+girl, when I was only twelve. She used to smile at my capriccios; and
+once she kissed me--actually. She was an awful Sawny, though, and so
+affected: I think I will write to her."
+
+These letters brought just one lady, a Mrs. Turner, who talked to Rosa
+very glibly about herself, and amused Rosa twice: at the third visit,
+Rosa tried to change the conversation. Mrs. Turner instantly got up, and
+went away. She could not bear the sound of the human voice, unless it
+was talking about her and her affairs.
+
+And now Staines began to feel downright uneasy. Income was going
+steadily out: not a shilling coming in. The lame, the blind, and the
+sick frequented his dispensary, and got his skill out of him gratis, and
+sometimes a little physic, a little wine, and other things that cost him
+money: but of the patients that pay, not one came to his front door.
+
+He walked round and round his little yard, like a hyena in its cage,
+waiting, waiting, waiting: and oh! how he envied the lot of those who
+can hunt for work, instead of having to stay at home and wait for others
+to come, whose will they cannot influence. His heart began to sicken
+with hope deferred, and dim forebodings of the future; and he saw, with
+grief, that his wife was getting duller and duller, and that her days
+dragged more heavily, far than his own; for he could study.
+
+At last his knocker began to show signs of life: his visitors were
+physicians. His lectures on "Diagnosis" were well known to them; and one
+after another found him out. They were polite, kind, even friendly; but
+here it ended: these gentlemen, of course, did not resign their patients
+to him; and the inferior class of practitioners avoided his door like a
+pestilence.
+
+Mrs. Staines, who had always lived for amusement, could strike out no
+fixed occupation; her time hung like lead; the house was small; and in
+small houses the faults of servants run against the mistress, and she
+can't help seeing them, and all the worse for her. It is easier to keep
+things clean in the country, and Rosa had a high standard, which her two
+servants could never quite attain. This annoyed her, and she began to
+scold a little. They answered civilly, but in other respects remained
+imperfect beings; they laid out every shilling they earned in finery;
+and, this, I am ashamed to say, irritated Mrs. Staines, who was wearing
+out her wedding garments, and had no excuse for buying, and Staines
+had begged her to be economical. The more they dressed, the more she
+scolded; they began to answer. She gave the cook warning; the other,
+though not on good terms with the cook, had a gush of esprit de corps
+directly, and gave Mrs. Staines warning.
+
+Mrs. Staines told her husband all this: he took her part, though without
+openly interfering; and they had two new servants, not so good as the
+last.
+
+This worried Rosa sadly; but it was a flea-bite to the deeper nature,
+and more forecasting mind of her husband, still doomed to pace that
+miserable yard, like a hyena, chafing, seeking, longing for the patient
+that never came.
+
+Rosa used to look out of his dressing-room window, and see him pace the
+yard. At first, tears of pity stood in her eyes. By and by she got angry
+with the world; and at last, strange to say, a little irritated with
+him. It is hard for a weak woman to keep up all her respect for the man
+that fails.
+
+One day, after watching him a long time unseen, she got excited, put on
+her shawl and bonnet, and ran down to him: she took him by the arm:
+"If you love me, come out of this prison, and walk with me; we are too
+miserable. I shall be your first patient if this goes on much longer."
+He looked at her, saw she was very excited, and had better be humored;
+so he kissed her and just said, with a melancholy smile, "How poor are
+they that have not patience!" Then he put on his hat, and walked in the
+Park and Kensington Gardens with her. The season was just beginning.
+There were carriages enough, and gay Amazons enough, to make poor Rosa
+sigh more than once.
+
+Christopher heard the sigh; and pressed her arm, and said, "Courage,
+love, I hope to see you among them yet."
+
+"The sooner the better," said she, a little hardly.
+
+"And, meantime, which of them all is as beautiful as you?"
+
+"All I know is, they are more attractive. Who looks at me, walking
+tamely by?"
+
+Christopher said nothing: but these words seemed to imply a thirst for
+admiration, and made him a little uneasy.
+
+By and by the walk put the swift-changing Rosa in spirits, and she began
+to chat gayly, and hung prattling and beaming on her husband's arm,
+when they entered Curzon Street. Here, however, occurred an incident,
+trifling in itself, but unpleasant. Dr. Staines saw one of his best
+Kentish patients get feebly out of his carriage, and call on Dr. Barr.
+He started, and stopped. Rosa asked what was the matter. He told her.
+She said, "We ARE unfortunate."
+
+Staines said nothing; he only quickened his pace; but he was greatly
+disturbed. She expected him to complain that she had dragged him out,
+and lost him that first chance. But he said nothing. When they got home,
+he asked the servant had anybody called.
+
+"No, Sir."
+
+"Surely you are mistaken, Jane. A gentleman in a carriage!"
+
+"Not a creature have been since you went out, sir."
+
+"Well, then, dearest," said he sweetly, "we have nothing to reproach
+ourselves with." Then he knit his brow gloomily. "It is worse than I
+thought. It seems even one's country patients go to another doctor when
+they visit London. It is hard. It is hard."
+
+Rosa leaned her head on his shoulder, and curled round him, as one she
+would shield against the world's injustice; but she said nothing; she
+was a little frightened at his eye that lowered, and his noble frame
+that trembled a little, with ire suppressed.
+
+Two days after this, a brougham drove up to the door, and a tallish,
+fattish, pasty-faced man got out, and inquired for Dr. Staines.
+
+He was shown into the dining-room, and told Jane he had come to consult
+the doctor.
+
+Rosa had peeped over the stairs, all curiosity; she glided noiselessly
+down, and with love's swift foot got into the yard before Jane. "He is
+come! he is come! Kiss me."
+
+Dr. Staines kissed her first, and then asked who was come.
+
+"Oh, nobody of any consequence. ONLY the first patient. Kiss me again."
+
+Dr. Staines kissed her again, and then was for going to the first
+patient.
+
+"No," said she; "not yet. I met a doctor's wife at Dr. Mayne's, and she
+told me things. You must always keep them waiting; or else they think
+nothing of you. Such a funny woman! 'Treat 'em like dogs, my dear,' she
+said. But I told her they wouldn't come to be treated like dogs or any
+other animal."
+
+"You had better have kept that to yourself, I think."
+
+"Oh! if you are going to be disagreeable, good-by. You can go to your
+patient, sir. Christie, dear, if he is very--very ill--and I'm sure I
+hope he is--oh, how wicked I am; may I have a new bonnet?"
+
+"If you really want one."
+
+On the patient's card was "Mr. Pettigrew, 47 Manchester Square."
+
+As soon as Staines entered the room, the first patient told him who and
+what he was, a retired civilian from India; but he had got a son there
+still, a very rising man; wanted to be a parson; but he would not
+stand that; bad profession; don't rise by merit; very hard to rise at
+all;--no, India was the place. "As for me, I made my fortune there in
+ten years. Obliged to leave it now--invalid this many years; no TONE.
+Tried two or three doctors in this neighborhood; heard there was a new
+one, had written a book on something. Thought I would try HIM."
+
+To stop him, Staines requested to feel his pulse, and examine his tongue
+and eye.
+
+"You are suffering from indigestion," said he. "I will write you a
+prescription; but if you want to get well, you must simplify your diet
+very much."
+
+While he was writing the prescription, off went this patient's tongue,
+and ran through the topics of the day and into his family history again.
+
+Staines listened politely. He could afford it, having only this one.
+
+At last, the first patient, having delivered an octavo volume of
+nothing, rose to go; but it seems that speaking an "infinite deal of
+nothing" exhausts the body, though it does not affect the mind; for the
+first patient sank down in his chair again. "I have excited myself too
+much--feel rather faint."
+
+Staines saw no signs of coming syncope; he rang the bell quietly, and
+ordered a decanter of sherry to be brought; the first patient filled
+himself a glass; then another; and went off, revived, to chatter
+elsewhere. But at the door he said, "I had always a running account with
+Dr. Mivar. I suppose you don't object to that system. Double fee the
+first visit, single afterwards."
+
+Dr. Staines bowed a little stiffly; he would have preferred the money.
+However, he looked at the Blue Book, and found his visitor lived at 47
+Manchester Square; so that removed his anxiety.
+
+The first patient called every other day, chattered nineteen to the
+dozen, was exhausted, drank two glasses of sherry, and drove away.
+
+Soon after this a second patient called. This one was a deputy
+patient--Collett, a retired butler--kept a lodging-house, and waited at
+parties; he lived close by, but had a married daughter in Chelsea. Would
+the doctor visit her, and HE would be responsible?
+
+Staines paid the woman a visit or two, and treated her so effectually,
+that soon her visits were paid to him. She was cured, and Staines, who
+by this time wanted to see money, sent to Collett.
+
+Collett did not answer.
+
+Staines wrote warmly.
+
+Collett dead silent.
+
+Staines employed a solicitor.
+
+Collett said he had recommended the patient, that was all. He had never
+said he would pay her debts. That was her husband's business.
+
+Now her husband was the mate of a ship; would not be in England for
+eighteen months.
+
+The woman, visited by lawyer's clerk, cried bitterly, and said she and
+her children had scarcely enough to eat.
+
+Lawyer advised Staines to abandon the case, and pay him two pounds
+fifteen shillings expenses. He did so.
+
+"This is damnable," said he. "I must get it out of Pettigrew; by-the-by,
+he has not been here this two days."
+
+He waited another day for Pettigrew, and then wrote to him. No answer.
+Called. Pettigrew gone abroad. House in Manchester Square to let.
+
+Staines went to the house-agent with his tale. Agent was impenetrable
+at first; but, at last, won by the doctor's manner and his unhappiness,
+referred him to Pettigrew's solicitor; the solicitor was a respectable
+man, and said he would forward the claim to Pettigrew in Paris.
+
+But by this time Pettigrew was chattering and guzzling in Berlin; and
+thence he got to St. Petersburg. In that stronghold of gluttony,
+he gormandized more than ever, and, being unable to talk it off his
+stomach, as in other cities, had apoplexy, and died.
+
+But long before this Staines saw his money was as irrecoverable as his
+sherry; and he said to Rosa, "I wonder whether I shall ever live to
+curse the human race?"
+
+"Heaven forbid!" said Rosa. "Oh, they use you cruelly, my poor, poor
+Christie!"
+
+Thus for months the young doctor's patients bled him, and that was all.
+
+And Rosa got more and more moped at being in the house so much, and
+pestered Christopher to take her out, and he declined: and, being a man
+hard to beat, took to writing on medical subjects, in hopes of getting
+some money from the various medical and scientific publications; but he
+found it as hard to get the wedge in there as to get patients.
+
+At last Rosa's remonstrances began to rise into something that
+sounded like reproaches. One Sunday she came to him in her bonnet, and
+interrupted his studies, to say he might as well lay down the pen, and
+talk. Nobody would publish anything he wrote.
+
+Christopher frowned, but contained himself, and laid down the pen.
+
+"I might as well not be married at all as be a doctor's wife. You are
+never seen out with me, not even to church. Do behave like a Christian,
+and come to church with me now."
+
+Dr. Staines shook his head.
+
+"Why, I wouldn't miss church for all the world. Any excitement is better
+than always moping. Come over the water with me. The time Jane and I
+went, the clergyman read a paper that Mr. Brown had fallen down in a
+fit. There was such a rush directly, and I'm sure fifty ladies went
+out--fancy, all Mrs. Browns! Wasn't that fun?"
+
+"Fun? I don't see it. Well, Rosa, your mind is evidently better adapted
+to diversion than mine is. Go you to church, love, and I'll continue my
+studies."
+
+"Then all I can say is, I wish I was back in my father's house. Husband!
+friend! companion!--I have none."
+
+Then she burst out crying violently; and, being shocked at what she had
+said, and at the agony it had brought into her husband's face, she went
+off into hysterics; and as his heart would not let him bellow at her,
+or empty a bucket on her as he would on another patient, she had a good
+long bout of them: and got her way, for she broke up his studies for
+that day, at all events.
+
+Even after the hysterics were got under, she continued to moan and sigh
+very prettily, with her lovely, languid head pillowed on her husband's
+arm; in a word, though the hysterics were real, yet this innocent young
+person had the presence of mind to postpone entire convalescence, and
+lay herself out to be petted all day. But fate willed it otherwise:
+while she was sighing and moaning, came to the door a scurrying of feet,
+and then a sharp, persistent ringing that meant something. The moaner
+cocked eye and ear, and said, in her every-day voice, which, coming so
+suddenly, sounded very droll, "What is that, I wonder?"
+
+Jane hurried to the street-door, and Rosa recovered by magic; and,
+preferring gossip to hysterics, in an almost gleeful whisper, ordered
+Christopher to open the door of the study. The Bijou was so small that
+the following dialogue rang in their ears:--
+
+A boy in buttons gasped out, "Oh, if you please, will you ast the doctor
+to come round directly; there's a haccident."
+
+"La, bless me!" said Jane, and never budged.
+
+"Yes, miss. It's our missus's little girl fallen right off an i-chair,
+and cut her head dreadful, and smothered in blood."
+
+"La, to be sure!" And she waited steadily for more.
+
+"Ay, and missus she fainted right off; and I've been to the regler
+doctor, which he's out; and Sarah, the housemaid, said I had better come
+here; you was only just set up, she said; you wouldn't have so much to
+do, says she."
+
+"That is all SHE knows," said Jane. "Why, our master--they pulls him in
+pieces which is to have him fust."
+
+"What an awful liar! Oh, you good girl!" whispered Dr. Staines and Rosa
+in one breath.
+
+"Ah, well," said Buttons, "any way, Sarah says she knows you are clever,
+'cos her little girl as lives with her mother, and calls Sarah aunt, has
+bin to your 'spensary with ringworm, and you cured her right off."
+
+"Ay, and a good many more," said Jane, loftily. She was a housemaid of
+imagination; and while Staines was putting some lint and an instrument
+case into his pocket, she proceeded to relate a number of miraculous
+cures. Dr. Staines interrupted them by suddenly emerging, and inviting
+Buttons to take him to the house.
+
+Mrs. Staines was so pleased with Jane for cracking up the doctor, that
+she gave her five shillings; and, after that, used to talk to her a
+great deal more than to the cook, which judicious conduct presently set
+all three by the ears.
+
+Buttons took the doctor to a fine house in the same street, and told
+him his mistress's name on the way--Mrs. Lucas. He was taken up to the
+nursery, and found Mrs. Lucas seated, crying and lamenting, and a woman
+holding a little girl of about seven, whose brow had been cut open by
+the fender, on which she had fallen from a chair; it looked very ugly,
+and was even now bleeding.
+
+Dr. Staines lost no time; he examined the wound keenly, and then said
+kindly to Mrs. Lucas, "I am happy to tell you it is not serious." He
+then asked for a large basin and some tepid water, and bathed it so
+softly and soothingly that the child soon became composed; and the
+mother discovered the artist at once. He compressed the wound, and
+explained to Mrs. Lucas that the principal thing really was to avoid an
+ugly scar. "There is no danger," said he. He then bound the wound
+neatly up, and had the girl put to bed. "You will not wake her at any
+particular hour, nurse. Let her sleep. Have a little strong beef-tea
+ready, and give it her at any hour, night or day, she asks for it. But
+do not force it on her, or you will do her more harm than good. She had
+better sleep before she eats."
+
+Mrs. Lucas begged him to come every morning; and, as he was going,
+she shook hands with him, and the soft palm deposited a hard substance
+wrapped in paper. He took it with professional gravity and seeming
+unconsciousness; but, once outside the house, went home on wings. He
+ran up to the drawing-room, and found his wife seated, and playing at
+reading. He threw himself on his knees, and the fee into her lap; and,
+while she unfolded the paper with an ejaculation of pleasure, he said,
+"Darling, the first real patient--the first real fee. It is yours to buy
+the new bonnet."
+
+"Oh, I'm so glad!" said she, with her eyes glistening. "But I'm afraid
+one can't get a bonnet fit to wear--for a guinea."
+
+Dr. Staines visited his little patient every day, and received his
+guinea. Mrs. Lucas also called him in for her own little ailments, and
+they were the best possible kind of ailments: for, being imaginary,
+there was no limit to them.
+
+Then did Mrs. Staines turn jealous of her husband. "They never ask me,"
+said she; "and I am moped to death."
+
+"It is hard," said Christopher, sadly. "But have a little patience.
+Society will come to you long before practice comes to me."
+
+About two o'clock one afternoon a carriage and pair drove up, and a
+gorgeous footman delivered a card--"Lady Cicely Treherne."
+
+Of course Mrs. Staines was at home, and only withheld by propriety
+from bounding into the passage to meet her school-fellow. However, she
+composed herself in the drawing-room, and presently the door was opened,
+and a very tall young woman, richly but not gayly dressed, drifted into
+the room, and stood there a statue of composure.
+
+Rosa had risen to fly to her; but the reverence a girl of eighteen
+strikes into a child of twelve hung about her still, and she came
+timidly forward, blushing and sparkling, a curious contrast in color
+and mind to her visitor; for Lady Cicely was Languor in person--her hair
+whitey-brown, her face a fine oval, but almost colorless; her eyes
+a pale gray, her neck and hands incomparably white and beautiful--a
+lymphatic young lady, a live antidote to emotion. However, Rosa's
+beauty, timidity, and undisguised affectionateness were something so
+different from what she was used to in the world of fashion, that she
+actually smiled, and held out both her hands a little way. Rosa seized
+them, and pressed them; they left her; and remained passive and limp.
+
+"O Lady Cicely," said Rosa, "how kind of you to come."
+
+"How kind of you to send to me," was the polite, but perfectly cool
+reply. "But how you are gwown, and--may I say impwoved?--You la petite
+Lusignan! It is incwedible," lisped her ladyship, very calmly.
+
+"I was only a child," said Rosa. "You were always so beautiful and tall,
+and kind to a little monkey like me. Oh, pray sit down, Lady Cicely, and
+talk of old times."
+
+She drew her gently to the sofa, and they sat down hand in hand; but
+Lady Cicely's high-bred reserve made her a very poor gossip about
+anything that touched herself and her family; so Rosa, though no
+egotist, was drawn into talking about herself more than she would have
+done had she deliberately planned the conversation. But here was an old
+school-fellow, and a singularly polite listener, and so out came her
+love, her genuine happiness, her particular griefs, and especially the
+crowning grievance, no society, moped to death, etc.
+
+Lady Cicely could hardly understand the sentiment in a woman who so
+evidently loved her husband. "Society!" said she, after due reflection,
+"why, it is a boa." (And here I may as well explain that Lady Cicely
+spoke certain words falsely, and others affectedly; and as for the
+letter r, she could say it if she made a hearty effort, but was
+generally too lazy to throw her leg over it.) "Society! I'm dwenched
+to death with it. If I could only catch fiah like other women, and
+love somebody, I would much rather have a tete-a-tete with him than
+go teawing about all day and all night, from one unintwisting cwowd
+to another. To be sure," said she, puzzling the matter out, "you are a
+beauty, and would be more looked at."
+
+"The idea! and--oh no! no! it is not that. But even in the country we
+had always some society."
+
+"Well, dyar, believe me, with your appeawance, you can have as much
+society as you please; but it will boa you to death, as it does me, and
+then you will long to be left quiet with a sensible man who loves you."
+
+Said Rosa, "When shall I have another tete-a-tete with YOU, I wonder?
+Oh, it has been such a comfort to me. Bless you for coming. There--I
+wrote to Cecilia, and Emily, and Mrs. Bosanquet that is now, and all my
+sworn friends, and to think of you being the one to come--you that never
+kissed me but once, and an earl's daughter into the bargain."
+
+"Ha! ha! ha!"--Lady Cicely actually laughed for once in a way, and did
+not feel the effort. "As for kissing," said she, "if I fall shawt,
+fawgive me. I was nevaa vewy demonstwative."
+
+"No; and I have had a lesson. That Florence Cole--Florence Whiting that
+was, you know--was always kissing me, and she has turned out a traitor.
+I'll tell you all about her." And she did.
+
+Lady Cicely thought Mrs. Staines a little too unreserved in her
+conversation; but was so charmed with her sweetness and freshness that
+she kept up the acquaintance, and called on her twice a week during the
+season. At first she wondered that her visits were not returned; but
+Rosa let out that she was ashamed to call on foot in Grosvenor Square.
+
+Lady Cicely shrugged her beautiful shoulders a little at that; but she
+continued to do the visiting, and to enjoy the simple, innocent rapture
+with which she was received.
+
+This lady's pronunciation of many words was false or affected. She
+said "good murning" for "good morning," and turned other vowels to
+diphthongs, and played two or three pranks with her "r's." But we cannot
+be all imperfection: with her pronunciation her folly came to a full
+stop. I really believe she lisped less nonsense and bad taste in a year
+than some of us articulate in a day. To be sure, folly is generally
+uttered in a hurry, and she was too deplorably lazy to speak fast on any
+occasion whatever.
+
+One day Mrs. Staines took her up-stairs, and showed her from the back
+window her husband pacing the yard, waiting for patients. Lady Cicely
+folded her arms, and contemplated him at first with a sort of zoological
+curiosity. Gentleman pacing back yard, like hyena, she had never seen
+before.
+
+At last she opened her mouth in a whisper, "What is he doing?"
+
+"Waiting for patients."
+
+"Oh! Waiting--for--patients?"
+
+"For patients that never come, and never will come."
+
+"Cuwious! How little I know of life."
+
+"It is that all day, dear, or else writing."
+
+Lady Cicely, with her eyes fixed on Staines, made a motion with her hand
+that she was attending.
+
+"And they won't publish a word he writes."
+
+"Poor man!"
+
+"Nice for me; is it not?"
+
+"I begin to understand," said Lady Cicely quietly; and soon after
+retired with her invariable composure.
+
+Meantime, Dr. Staines, like a good husband, had thrown out occasional
+hints to Mrs. Lucas that he had a wife, beautiful, accomplished, moped.
+More than that, he went so far as to regret to her that Mrs. Staines,
+being in a neighborhood new to him, saw so little society; the more so,
+as she was formed to shine, and had not been used to seclusion.
+
+All these hints fell dead on Mrs. Lucas. A handsome and skilful doctor
+was welcome to her: his wife--that was quite another matter.
+
+But one day Mrs. Lucas saw Lady Cicely Treherne's carriage standing at
+the door. The style of the whole turnout impressed her. She wondered
+whose it was.
+
+On another occasion she saw it drive up, and the lady get out. She
+recognized her; and the very next day this parvenue said adroitly, "Now,
+Dr. Staines, really you can't be allowed to hide your wife in this way.
+(Staines stared.) Why not introduce her to me next Wednesday? It is my
+night. I would give a dinner expressly for her; but I don't like to do
+that while my husband is in Naples."
+
+When Staines carried the invitation to his wife, she was delighted, and
+kissed him with childish frankness.
+
+But the very next moment she became thoughtful, uneasy, depressed. "Oh,
+dear; I've nothing to wear."
+
+"Oh, nonsense, Rosa. Your wedding outfit."
+
+"The idea! I can't go as a bride. It's not a masquerade."
+
+"But you have other dresses."
+
+"All gone by, more or less; or not fit for such parties as SHE gives. A
+hundred carriages!"
+
+"Bring them down, and let me see them."
+
+"Oh yes." And the lady, who had nothing to wear, paraded a very fair
+show of dresses.
+
+Staines saw something to admire in all of them. Mrs. Staines found more
+to object to in each.
+
+At last he fell upon a silver-gray silk, of superlative quality.
+
+"That! It is as old as the hills," shrieked Rosa.
+
+"It looks just out of the shop. Come, tell the truth; how often have you
+worn it?"
+
+"I wore it before I was married."
+
+"Ay, but how often?"
+
+"Twice. Three times, I believe."
+
+"I thought so. It is good as new."
+
+"But I have had it so long by me. I had it two years before I made it
+up."
+
+"What does that matter? Do you think the people can tell how long a
+dress has been lurking in your wardrobe? This is childish, Rosa. There,
+with this dress as good as new, and your beauty, you will be as much
+admired, and perhaps hated, as your heart can desire."
+
+"I am afraid not," said Rosa naively. "Oh, how I wish I had known a week
+ago."
+
+"I am very thankful you did not," said Staines dryly.
+
+At ten o'clock Mrs. Staines was nearly dressed; at a quarter past ten
+she demanded ten minutes; at half-past ten she sought a reprieve; at a
+quarter to eleven, being assured that the street was full of carriages,
+which had put down at Mrs. Lucas's, she consented to emerge; and in a
+minute they were at the house.
+
+They were shown first into a cloak-room, and then into a tea-room, and
+then mounted the stairs. One servant took their names, and bawled them
+to another four yards off, he to another about as near, and so on; and
+they edged themselves into the room, not yet too crowded to move in.
+
+They had not taken many steps, on the chance of finding their hostess,
+when a slight buzz arose, and seemed to follow them.
+
+Rosa wondered what that was; but only for a moment; she observed a tall,
+stout, aquiline woman fix an eye of bitter, diabolical, malignant hatred
+on her; and as she advanced, ugly noses were cocked disdainfully, and
+scraggy shoulders elevated at the risk of sending the bones through the
+leather, and a titter or two shot after her. A woman's instinct gave her
+the key at once; the sexes had complimented her at sight; each in
+their way; the men with respectful admiration; the women, with their
+inflammable jealousy and ready hatred in another of the quality they
+value most in themselves. But the country girl was too many for them:
+she would neither see nor bear, but moved sedately on, and calmly
+crushed them with her Southern beauty. Their dry, powdered faces could
+not live by the side of her glowing skin, with nature's delicate gloss
+upon it, and the rich blood mantling below it. The got-up beauties,
+i.e., the majority, seemed literally to fade and wither as she passed.
+
+Mrs. Lucas got to her, suppressed a slight maternal pang, having
+daughters to marry, and took her line in a moment; here was a decoy
+duck. Mrs. Lucas was all graciousness, made acquaintance, and took a
+little turn with her, introducing her to one or two persons; among the
+rest, to the malignant woman, Mrs. Barr. Mrs. Barr, on this, ceased to
+look daggers and substituted icicles; but on the hateful beauty moving
+away, dropped the icicles, and resumed the poniards.
+
+The rooms filled; the heat became oppressive, and the mixed odors of
+flowers, scents, and perspiring humanity, sickening. Some, unable to
+bear it, trickled out of the room, and sat all down the stairs.
+
+Rosa began to feel faint. Up came a tall, sprightly girl, whose pertness
+was redeemed by a certain bonhomie, and said, "Mrs. Staines, I
+believe? I am to make myself agreeable to you. That is the order from
+headquarters."
+
+"Miss Lucas," said Staines.
+
+She jerked a little off-hand bow to him, and said, "Will you trust her
+to me for five minutes?"
+
+"Certainly." But he did not much like it.
+
+Miss Lucas carried her off, and told Dr. Staines, over her shoulder, now
+he could flirt to his heart's content.
+
+"Thank you," said he dryly. "I'll await your return."
+
+"Oh, there are some much greater flirts here than I am," said the ready
+Miss Lucas; and whispering something in Mrs. Staines's ear, suddenly
+glided with her behind a curtain, pressed a sort of button fixed to a
+looking-glass door. The door opened, and behold they were in a delicious
+place, for which I can hardly find a word, since it was a boudoir and
+a conservatory in one: a large octagon, the walls lined from floor to
+ceiling with looking-glasses of moderate width, at intervals, and with
+creepers that covered the intervening spaces of the wall, and were
+trained so as to break the outline of the glasses without greatly
+clouding the reflection. Ferns, in great variety, were grouped in a
+deep crescent, and in the bight of this green bay were a small table
+and chairs. As there were no hot-house plants, the temperature was very
+cool, compared with the reeking oven they had escaped; and a little
+fountain bubbled, and fed a little meandering gutter that trickled away
+among the ferns; it ran crystal clear over little bright pebbles and
+shells. It did not always run, you understand; but Miss Lucas turned a
+secret tap, and started it.
+
+"Oh, how heavenly!" said Rosa, with a sigh of relief; "and how good of
+you to bring me here!"
+
+"Yes; by rights I ought to have waited till you fainted. But there is no
+making acquaintance among all those people. Mamma will ask such crowds;
+one is like a fly in a glue-pot."
+
+Miss Lucas had good nature, smartness, and animal spirits; hence arose
+a vivacity and fluency that were often amusing, and passed for very
+clever. Reserve she had none; would talk about strangers, or friends,
+herself, her mother, her God, and the last buffoon-singer, in a breath.
+At a hint from Rosa, she told her who the lady in the pink dress was,
+and the lady in the violet velvet, and so on; for each lady was defined
+by her dress, and, more or less, quizzed by this show-woman, not exactly
+out of malice, but because it is smarter and more natural to decry than
+to praise, and a little medisance is the spice to gossip, belongs to it,
+as mint sauce to lamb. So they chatted away, and were pleased with
+each other, and made friends, and there, in cool grot, quite forgot
+the sufferings of their fellow-creatures in the adjacent Turkish bath,
+yclept society. It was Rosa who first recollected herself. "Will not
+Mrs. Lucas be angry with me, if I keep you all to myself?"
+
+"Oh no; but I'm afraid we must go into the hot-house again. I like the
+greenhouse best, with such a nice companion."
+
+They slipped noiselessly into the throng again, and wriggled about, Miss
+Lucas presenting her new friend to several ladies and gentlemen.
+
+Presently Staines found them, and then Miss Lucas wriggled away; and in
+due course the room was thinned by many guests driving off home, or to
+balls, and other receptions, and Dr. Staines and Mrs. Staines went home
+to the Bijou. Here the physician prescribed bed; but the lady would not
+hear of such a thing until she had talked it all over. So they compared
+notes, and Rosa told him how well she had got on with Miss Lucas, and
+made a friendship. "But for that," said she, "I should be sorry I went
+among those people, such a dowdy."
+
+"Dowdy!" said Staines. "Why, you stormed the town; you were the great
+success of the night, and, for all I know, of the season." The wretch
+delivered this with unbecoming indifference.
+
+"It is too bad to mock me, Christie. Where were your eyes?"
+
+"To the best of my recollection, they were one on each side of my nose."
+
+"Yes, but some people are eyes and no eyes."
+
+"I scorn the imputation; try me."
+
+"Very well. Then did you see that lady in sky-blue silk, embroidered
+with flowers, and flounced with white velvet, and the corsage point
+lace; and oh, such emeralds?"
+
+"I did; a tall, skinny woman, with eyes resembling her jewels in color,
+though not in brightness."
+
+"Never mind her eyes; it is her dress I am speaking of. Exquisite; and
+what a coiffure! Well, did you see HER in the black velvet, trimmed so
+deep with Chantilly lace, wave on wave, and her head-dress of crimson
+flowers, and such a riviere of diamonds; oh, dear! oh, dear!"
+
+"I did, love. The room was an oven, but her rubicund face and
+suffocating costume made it seem a furnace."
+
+"Stuff! Well, did you see the lady in the corn-colored silk, and poppies
+in her hair?"
+
+"Of course I did. Ceres in person. She made me feel hot, too; but I
+cooled myself a bit at her pale, sickly face."
+
+"Never mind their faces; that is not the point."
+
+"Oh, excuse me; it is always a point with us benighted males, all eyes
+and no eyes."
+
+"Well, then, the lady in white, with cherry-velvet bands, and a white
+tunic looped with crimson, and headdress of white illusion, a la vierge,
+I think they call it."
+
+"It was very refreshing; and adapted to that awful atmosphere. It was
+the nearest approach to nudity I ever saw, even amongst fashionable
+people."
+
+"It was lovely; and then that superb figure in white illusion and gold,
+with all those narrow flounces over her slip of white silk glacee, and a
+wreath of white flowers, with gold wheat ears amongst them, in her hair;
+and oh! oh! oh! her pearls, oriental, and as big as almonds!"
+
+"And oh! oh! oh! her nose! reddish, and as long as a woodcock's."
+
+"Noses! noses! stupid! That is not what strikes you first in a woman
+dressed like an angel."
+
+"Well, if you were to run up against that one, as I nearly did, her nose
+WOULD be the thing that would strike you first. Nose! it was a rostrum!
+the spear-head of Goliah."
+
+"Now, don't, Christopher. This is no laughing matter. Do you mean you
+were not ashamed of your wife? I was."
+
+"No, I was not; you had but one rival; a very young lady, wise
+before her age; a blonde, with violet eyes. She was dressed in light
+mauve-colored silk, without a single flounce, or any other tomfoolery
+to fritter away the sheen and color of an exquisite material; her sunny
+hair was another wave of color, wreathed with a thin line of white
+jessamine flowers closely woven, that scented the air. This girl was the
+moon of that assembly, and you were the sun."
+
+"I never even saw her."
+
+"Eyes and no eyes. She saw you, and said, 'Oh, what a beautiful
+creature!' for I heard her. As for the old stagers, whom you admire so,
+their faces were all clogged with powder, the pores stopped up, the true
+texture of the skin abolished. They looked downright nasty, whenever
+you or that young girl passed by them. Then it was you saw to what a
+frightful extent women are got up in our day, even young women, and
+respectable women. No, Rosa, dress can do little for you; you have
+beauty--real beauty."
+
+"Beauty! That passes unnoticed, unless one is well dressed."
+
+"Then what an obscure pair the Apollo Belvidere and the Venus de Medicis
+must be."
+
+"Oh! they are dressed--in marble."
+
+Christopher Staines stared first, then smiled.
+
+"Well done," said he, admiringly. "That IS a knockdown blow. So now you
+have silenced your husband, go you to bed directly. I can't afford you
+diamonds; so I will take care of that little insignificant trifle, your
+beauty."
+
+Mrs. Staines and Mrs. Lucas exchanged calls, and soon Mrs. Staines could
+no longer complain she was out of the world. Mrs. Lucas invited her to
+every party, because her beauty was an instrument of attraction she knew
+how to use; and Miss Lucas took a downright fancy to her; drove her in
+the park, and on Sundays to the Zoological Gardens, just beginning to be
+fashionable.
+
+The Lucases rented a box at the opera, and if it was not let at the
+library by six o'clock, and if other engagements permitted, word was
+sent round to Mrs. Staines, as a matter of course, and she was taken to
+the opera. She began almost to live at the Lucases, and to be oftener
+fatigued than moped.
+
+The usual order of things was inverted; the maiden lady educated the
+matron; for Miss Lucas knew all about everybody in the Park, honorable
+or dishonorable; all the scandals, and all the flirtations; and whatever
+she knew, she related point-blank. Being as inquisitive as voluble, she
+soon learned how Mrs. Staines and her husband were situated. She took
+upon her to advise her in many things, and especially impressed upon
+her that Dr. Staines must keep a carriage, if he wanted to get on in
+medicine. The piece of advice accorded so well with Rosa's wishes, that
+she urged it on her husband again and again.
+
+He objected that no money was coming in, and therefore it would be
+insane to add to their expenses. Rosa persisted, and at last worried
+Staines with her importunity. He began to give rather short answers.
+Then she quoted Miss Lucas against him. He treated the authority with
+marked contempt; and then Rosa fired up a little. Then Staines held his
+peace; but did not buy a carriage to visit his no patients.
+
+So at last Rosa complained to Lady Cicely Treherne, and made her the
+judge between her husband and herself. Lady Cicely drawled out a prompt
+but polite refusal to play that part. All that could be elicited from
+her, and that with difficulty, was, "Why quall with your husband about a
+cawwige; he is your best fwiend."
+
+"Ah, that he is," said Rosa; "but Miss Lucas is a good friend, and she
+knows the world. We don't; neither Christopher nor I."
+
+So she continued to nag at her husband about it, and to say that he was
+throwing his only chance away.
+
+Galled as he was by neglect, this was irritating, and at last he could
+not help telling her she was unreasonable. "You live a gay life, and I
+a sad one. I consent to this, and let you go about with these Lucases,
+because you were so dull; but you should not consult them in our private
+affairs. Their interference is indelicate and improper. I will not set
+up a carriage till I have patients to visit. I am sick of seeing our
+capital dwindle, and no income created. I will never set up a carriage
+till I have taken a hundred-guinea fee."
+
+"Oh! Then we shall go splashing through the mud all our days."
+
+"Or ride in a cab," said Christopher, with a quiet doggedness that left
+no hope of his yielding.
+
+One afternoon Miss Lucas called for Mrs. Staines to drive in the Park,
+but did not come up-stairs; it was an engagement, and she knew Mrs.
+Staines would be ready, or nearly. Mrs. Staines, not to keep her
+waiting, came down rather hastily, and in the very passage whipped out
+of her pocket a little glass, and a little powder puff, and puffed her
+face all over in a trice. She was then going out; but her husband called
+her into the study. "Rosa, my dear," said he, "you were going out with a
+dirty face."
+
+"Oh!" cried she, "give me a glass."
+
+"There is no need of that. All you want is a basin and some nice
+rain-water. I keep a little reservoir of it."
+
+He then handed her the same with great politeness. She looked in his
+eye, and saw he was not to be trifled with. She complied like a lamb,
+and the heavenly color and velvet gloss that resulted were admirable.
+
+He kissed her and said, "Ah! now you are my Rosa again. Oblige me by
+handing over that powder-puff to me." She looked vexed, but complied.
+"When you come back I will tell you why."
+
+"You are a pest," said Mrs. Staines, and so joined her friend, rosy with
+rain-water and a rub.
+
+"Dear me, how handsome you look to-day!" was Miss Lucas's first remark.
+
+Rosa never dreamed that rain-water and rub could be the cause of her
+looking so well.
+
+"It is my tiresome husband," said she. "He objects to powder, and he has
+taken away my puff."
+
+"And you stood that?"
+
+"Obliged to."
+
+"Why, you poor-spirited little creature, I should like to see a husband
+presume to interfere with me in those things. Here, take mine."
+
+Rosa hesitated a little. "Well--no--I think not."
+
+Miss Lucas laughed at her, and quizzed her so on her allowing a man to
+interfere in such sacred things as dress and cosmetics, that she came
+back irritated with her husband, and gave him a short answer or two.
+Then he asked what was the matter.
+
+"You treat me like a child--taking away my very puff."
+
+"I treat you like a beautiful flower, that no bad gardener shall wither
+whilst I am here."
+
+"What nonsense! How could that wither me? It is only violet powder--what
+they put on babies."
+
+"And who are the Herods that put it on babies?"
+
+"Their own mothers, that love them ten times more than the fathers do."
+
+"And kill a hundred of them for one a man ever kills. Mothers!--the most
+wholesale homicides in the nation. We will examine your violet-powder:
+bring it down here."
+
+While she was gone he sent for a breakfast-cupful of flour, and when she
+came back he had his scales out, and begged her to put a teaspoonful of
+flour into one scale and of violet powder into another. The flour kicked
+the beam, as Homer expresses himself.
+
+"Put another spoonful of flour."
+
+The one spoonful of violet powder outweighed the two of flour.
+
+"Now," said Staines, "does not that show you the presence of a mineral
+in your vegetable powder? I suppose they tell you it is made of white
+violets dried, and triturated in a diamond mill. Let us find out what
+metal it is. We need not go very deep into chemistry for that." He
+then applied a simple test, and detected the presence of lead in large
+quantities. Then he lectured her: "Invisible perspiration is a process
+of nature necessary to health and to life. The skin is made porous for
+that purpose. You can kill anybody in an hour or two by closing the
+pores. A certain infallible ass, called Pope Leo XII., killed a little
+boy in two hours, by gilding him to adorn the pageant of his first
+procession as Pope. But what is death to the whole body must be
+injurious to a part. What madness, then, to clog the pores of so
+large and important a surface as the face, and check the invisible
+perspiration: how much more to insert lead into your system every day
+of your life; a cumulative poison, and one so deadly and so subtle, that
+the Sheffield file-cutters die in their prime, from merely hammering on
+a leaden anvil. And what do you gain by this suicidal habit? No plum has
+a sweeter bloom or more delicious texture than the skin of your
+young face; but this mineral filth hides that delicate texture, and
+substitutes a dry, uniform appearance, more like a certain kind of
+leprosy than health. Nature made your face the rival of peaches, roses,
+lilies; and you say, 'No; I know better than my Creator and my God; my
+face shall be like a dusty miller's.' Go into any flour-mill, and there
+you shall see men with faces exactly like your friend Miss Lucas's. But
+before a miller goes to his sweetheart, he always washes his face. You
+ladies would never get a miller down to your level in brains. It is a
+miller's DIRTY face our mono-maniacs of woman imitate, not the face a
+miller goes a-courting with."
+
+"La! what a fuss about nothing!"
+
+"About nothing! Is your health nothing? Is your beauty nothing? Well,
+then, it will cost you nothing to promise me never to put powder on your
+face again."
+
+"Very well, I promise. Now what will you do for me?"
+
+"Work for you--write for you--suffer for you--be self-denying for
+you--and even give myself the pain of disappointing you now and
+then--looking forward to the time when I shall be able to say 'Yes' to
+everything you ask me. Ah! child, you little know what it costs me to
+say 'No' to YOU."
+
+Rosa put her arms round him and acquiesced. She was one of those who
+go with the last speaker; but, for that very reason, the eternal
+companionship of so flighty and flirty a girl as Miss Lucas was
+injurious to her.
+
+One day Lady Cicely Treherne was sitting with Mrs. Staines, smiling
+languidly at her talk, and occasionally drawling out a little plain good
+sense, when in came Miss Lucas, with her tongue well hung, as usual, and
+dashed into twenty topics in ten minutes.
+
+This young lady in her discourse was like those little oily beetles you
+see in small ponds, whose whole life is spent in tacking--confound them
+for it!--generally at right angles. What they are in navigation was Miss
+Lucas in conversation: tacked so eternally from topic to topic, that no
+man on earth, and not every woman, could follow her.
+
+At the sight and sound of her, Lady Cicely congealed and stiffened.
+Easy and unpretending with Mrs. Staines, she was all dignity, and even
+majesty, in the presence of this chatterbox; and the smoothness with
+which the transfiguration was accomplished marked that accomplished
+actress the high-bred woman of the world.
+
+Rosa, better able to estimate the change of manner than Miss Lucas was,
+who did not know how little this Sawny was afflicted with misplaced
+dignity, looked wistfully and distressed at her. Lady Cicely
+smiled kindly in reply, rose, without seeming to hurry,--catch her
+condescending to be rude to Charlotte Lucas,--and took her departure,
+with a profound and most gracious courtesy to the lady who had driven
+her away.
+
+Mrs. Staines saw her down-stairs, and said, ruefully, "I am afraid
+you do not like my friend Miss Lucas. She is a great rattle, but so
+good-natured and clever."
+
+Lady Cicely shook her head. "Clevaa people don't talk so much nonsense
+before strangaas."
+
+"Oh, dear!" said Rosa. "I was in hopes you would like her."
+
+"Do YOU like her?"
+
+"Indeed I do; but I shall not, if she drives an older friend away."
+
+"My dyah, I'm not easily dwiven from those I esteem. But you undastand
+that is not a woman for me to mispwonownce my 'ah's befaw--NOR FOR YOU
+TO MAKE A BOSOM FWIEND OF--WOSA STAINES."
+
+She said this with a sudden maternal solemnity and kindness that
+contrasted nobly and strangely with her yea-nay style, and Mrs. Staines
+remembered the words years after they were spoken.
+
+It so happened that after this Mrs. Staines received no more visits from
+Lady Cicely for some time, and that vexed her. She knew her sex enough
+to be aware that they are very jealous, and she permitted herself to
+think that this high-minded Sawny was jealous of Miss Lucas.
+
+This idea, founded on a general estimate of her sex, was dispelled by a
+few lines from Lady Cicely, to say her family and herself were in deep
+distress; her brother, Lord Ayscough, lay dying from an accident.
+
+Then Rosa was all remorse, and ran down to Staines to tell him. She
+found him with an open letter in his hand. It was from Dr. Barr, and
+on the same subject. The doctor, who had always been friendly to him,
+invited him to come down at once to Hallowtree Hall, in Huntingdonshire,
+to a consultation. There was a friendly intimation to start at once, as
+the patient might die any moment.
+
+Husband and wife embraced each other in a tumult of surprised
+thankfulness. A few necessaries were thrown into a carpet-bag, and
+Dr. Staines was soon whirled into Huntingdonshire. Having telegraphed
+beforehand, he was met at the station by the earl's carriage and people,
+and driven to the Hall. He was received by an old, silver-haired butler,
+looking very sad, who conducted him to a boudoir; and then went and
+tapped gently at the door of the patient's room. It was opened and shut
+very softly, and Lady Cicely, dressed in black, and looking paler than
+ever, came into the room.
+
+"Dr. Staines, I think?"
+
+He bowed.
+
+"Thank you for coming so promptly. Dr. Barr is gone. I fear he
+thinks--he thinks--O Dr. Staines--no sign of life but in his poor hands,
+that keep moving night and day."
+
+Staines looked very grave at that. Lady Cicely observed it, and, faint
+at heart, could say no more, but led the way to the sick-room.
+
+There in a spacious chamber, lighted by a grand oriel window and two
+side windows, lay rank, title, wealth, and youth, stricken down in a
+moment by a common accident. The sufferer's face was bloodless, his eyes
+fixed, and no signs of life but in his thumbs, and they kept working
+with strange regularity.
+
+In the room were a nurse and the surgeon; the neighboring physician, who
+had called in Dr. Barr, had just paid his visit and gone away.
+
+Lady Cicely introduced Dr. Staines and Mr. White, and then Dr. Staines
+stood and fixed his eyes on the patient in profound silence. Lady
+Cicely scanned his countenance searchingly, and was struck with the
+extraordinary power and intensity it assumed in examining the patient;
+but the result was not encouraging. Dr. Staines looked grave and gloomy.
+
+At last, without removing his eye from the recumbent figure, he said
+quietly to Mr. White, "Thrown from his horse, sir."
+
+"Horse fell on him, Dr. Staines."
+
+"Any visible injuries?"
+
+"Yes. Severe contusions, and a rib broken and pressed upon the lungs. I
+replaced and set it. Will you see?"
+
+"If you please."
+
+He examined and felt the patient, and said it had been ably done.
+
+Then he was silent and searching.
+
+At last he spoke again. "The motion of the thumbs corresponds exactly
+with his pulse."
+
+"Is that so, sir?"
+
+"It is. The case is without a parallel. How long has he been so?"
+
+"Nearly a week."
+
+"Impossible!"
+
+"It is so, sir."
+
+Lady Cicely confirmed this.
+
+"All the better," said Dr. Staines upon reflection. "Well, sir," said
+he, "the visible injuries having been ably relieved, I shall look
+another way for the cause." Then, after another pause, "I must have his
+head shaved."
+
+Lady Cicely demurred a little to this; but Dr. Staines stood firm, and
+his lordship's valet undertook the job.
+
+Staines directed him where to begin; and when he had made a circular
+tonsure on the top of the head, had it sponged with tepid water.
+
+"I thought so," said he. "Here is the mischief;" and he pointed to a
+very slight indentation on the left side of the pia mater. "Observe,"
+said he, "there is no corresponding indentation on the other side.
+Underneath this trifling depression a minute piece of bone is doubtless
+pressing on the most sensitive part of the brain. He must be trephined."
+
+Mr. White's eyes sparkled.
+
+"You are an hospital surgeon, sir?"
+
+"Yes, Dr. Staines. I have no fear of the operation."
+
+"Then I hand the patient over to you. The case at present is entirely
+surgical."
+
+White was driven home, and soon returned with the requisite instruments.
+The operation was neatly performed, and then Lady Cicely was called in.
+She came trembling; her brother's fingers were still working, but not so
+regularly.
+
+"That is only HABIT," said Staines; "it will soon leave off, now the
+cause is gone."
+
+And, truly enough, in about five minutes the fingers became quiet. The
+eyes became human next; and within half an hour after the operation the
+earl gave a little sigh.
+
+Lady Cicely clasped her hands, and uttered a little cry of delight.
+
+"This will not do," said Staines, "I shall have you screaming when he
+speaks."
+
+"Oh, Dr. Staines! will he ever speak?"
+
+"I think so, and very soon. So be on your guard."
+
+This strange scene reached its climax soon after, by the earl saying,
+quietly,--
+
+"Are her knees broke, Tom?"
+
+Lady Cicely uttered a little scream, but instantly suppressed it.
+
+"No, my lord," said Staines, smartly; "only rubbed a bit. You can go to
+sleep, my lord. I'll take care of the mare."
+
+"All right," said his lordship; and composed himself to slumber.
+
+Dr. Staines, at the earnest request of Lady Cicely, stayed all night;
+and in course of the day advised her how to nurse the patient, since
+both physician and surgeon had done with him.
+
+He said the patient's brain might be irritable for some days, and no
+women in silk dresses or crinoline, or creaking shoes, must enter the
+room. He told her the nurse was evidently a clumsy woman, and would
+be letting things fall. She had better get some old soldier used to
+nursing. "And don't whisper in the room," said he; "nothing irritates
+them worse; and don't let anybody play a piano within hearing; but in a
+day or two you may try him with slow and continuous music on the flute
+or violin if you like. Don't touch his bed suddenly; don't sit on it or
+lean on it. Dole sunlight into his room by degrees; and when he can bear
+it, drench him with it. Never mind what the old school tell you. About
+these things they know a good deal less than nothing."
+
+Lady Cicely received all this like an oracle.
+
+The cure was telegraphed to Dr. Barr, and he was requested to settle the
+fee. He was not the man to undersell the profession, and was jealous
+of nobody, having a large practice, and a very wealthy wife. So he
+telegraphed back--"Fifty guineas, and a guinea a mile from London."
+
+So, as Christopher Staines sat at an early breakfast, with the carriage
+waiting to take him to the train, two notes were brought him on a
+salver.
+
+They were both directed by Lady Cicely Treherne. One of them contained a
+few kind and feeling words of gratitude and esteem; the other, a check,
+drawn by the earl's steward, for one hundred and thirty guineas.
+
+He bowled up to London, and told it all to Rosa. She sparkled with
+pride, affection, and joy.
+
+"Now, who says you are not a genius?" she cried. "A hundred and thirty
+guineas for one fee! Now, if you love your wife as she loves you--you
+will set up a brougham."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Doctor Staines begged leave to distinguish; he had not said he would
+set up a carriage at the first one hundred guinea fee, but only that he
+would not set up one before. There are misguided people who would call
+this logic: but Rosa said it was equivocating, and urged him so warmly
+that at last he burst out, "Who can go on forever saying 'No,' to
+the only creature he loves?"--and caved. In forty-eight hours more a
+brougham waited at Mrs. Staines's door. The servant engaged to drive
+it was Andrew Pearman, a bachelor, and, hitherto, an under-groom. He
+readily consented to be coachman, and to do certain domestic work as
+well. So Mrs. Staines had a man-servant as well as a carriage.
+
+Ere long, three or four patients called, or wrote, one after the other.
+These Rosa set down to brougham, and crowed; she even crowed to Lady
+Cicely Treherne, to whose influence, and not to brougham's, every one of
+these patients was owing. Lady Cicely kissed her, and demurely enjoyed
+the poor soul's self-satisfaction.
+
+Staines himself, while he drove to or from these patients, felt more
+sanguine, and buoyed as he was by the consciousness of ability, began to
+hope he had turned the corner.
+
+He sent an account of Lord Ayscough's case to a medical magazine: and so
+full is the world of flunkeyism, that this article, though he withheld
+the name, retaining only the title, got the literary wedge in for him
+at once: and in due course he became a paid contributor to two medical
+organs, and used to study and write more, and indent the little stone
+yard less than heretofore.
+
+It was about this time circumstances made him acquainted with Phoebe
+Dale. Her intermediate history I will dispose of in fewer words than it
+deserves. Her ruin, Mr. Reginald Falcon, was dismissed from his club,
+for marking high cards on the back with his nail. This stopped his
+remaining resource--borrowing: so he got more and more out at elbows,
+till at last he came down to hanging about billiard-rooms, and making a
+little money by concealing his game; from that, however, he rose to be a
+marker.
+
+Having culminated to that, he wrote and proposed marriage to Miss Dale,
+in a charming letter: she showed it to her father with pride.
+
+Now, if his vanity, his disloyalty, his falsehood, his ingratitude,
+and his other virtues had not stood in the way, he would have done this
+three years ago, and been jumped at.
+
+But the offer came too late; not for Phoebe--she would have taken him in
+a moment--but for her friends. A baited hook is one thing, a bare hook
+is another. Farmer Dale had long discovered where Phoebe's money went:
+he said not a word to her; but went up to town like a shot; found Falcon
+out, and told him he mustn't think to eat his daughter's bread. She
+should marry a man that could make a decent livelihood; and if she
+was to run away with HIM, why they'd starve together. The farmer was
+resolute, and spoke very loud, like one that expects opposition, and
+comes prepared to quarrel. Instead of that, this artful rogue addressed
+him with deep respect and an affected veneration, that quite puzzled
+the old man; acquiesced in every word, expressed contrition for his past
+misdeeds, and told the farmer he had quite determined to labor with his
+hands. "You know, farmer," said he, "I am not the only gentleman who has
+come to that in the present day. Now, all my friends that have seen my
+sketches, assure me I am a born painter; and a painter I'll be--for love
+of Phoebe."
+
+The farmer made a wry face. "Painter! that is a sorry sort of a trade."
+
+"You are mistaken. It's the best trade going. There are gentlemen making
+their thousands a year by it."
+
+"Not in our parts, there bain't. Stop a bit. What be ye going to paint,
+sir? Housen, or folk?"
+
+"Oh, hang it, not houses. Figures, landscapes."
+
+"Well, ye might just make shift to live at it, I suppose, with here and
+there a signboard. They are the best paid, our way: but, Lord bless ye,
+THEY wants headpiece. Well, sir, let me see your work. Then we'll talk
+further."
+
+"I'll go to work this afternoon," said Falcon eagerly; then with
+affected surprise, "Bless me; I forgot. I have no palette, no canvas, no
+colors. You couldn't lend me a couple of sovereigns to buy them, could
+you?"
+
+"Ay, sir; I could. But I woan't. I'll lend ye the things, though, if you
+have a mind to go with me and buy 'em."
+
+Falcon agreed, with a lofty smile; and the purchases were made.
+
+Mr. Falcon painted a landscape or two out of his imagination. The
+dealers to whom he took them declined them; one advised the gentleman
+painter to color tea-boards. "That's your line," said he.
+
+"The world has no taste," said the gentleman painter: "but it has got
+lots of vanity: I'll paint portraits."
+
+He did; and formidable ones: his portraits were amazingly like the
+people, and yet unlike men and women, especially about the face. One
+thing, he didn't trouble with lights and shades, but went slap at the
+features.
+
+His brush would never have kept him; but he carried an instrument, in
+the use of which he was really an artist, viz., his tongue. By wheedling
+and underselling--for he only charged a pound for the painted canvas--he
+contrived to live; then he aspired to dress as well as live. With this
+second object in view, he hit upon a characteristic expedient.
+
+He used to prowl about, and when he saw a young woman sweeping the
+afternoon streets with a long silk train, and, in short, dressed to ride
+in the park, yet parading the streets, he would take his hat off to
+her, with an air of profound respect, and ask permission to take her
+portrait. Generally he met a prompt rebuff; but if the fair was so
+unlucky as to hesitate a single moment, he told her a melting tale; he
+had once driven his four-in-hand; but by indorsing his friends' bills,
+was reduced to painting likeness, admirable likenesses in oil, only a
+guinea each.
+
+His piteous tale provoked more gibes than pity, but as he had no shame,
+the rebuffs went for nothing: he actually did get a few sitters by his
+audacity: and some of the sitters actually took the pictures, and paid
+for them; others declined them with fury as soon as they were finished.
+These he took back with a piteous sigh, that sometimes extracted half
+a crown. Then he painted over the rejected one and let it dry; so that
+sometimes a paid portrait would present a beauty enthroned on the debris
+of two or three rivals, and that is where few beauties would object to
+sit.
+
+All this time he wrote nice letters to Phoebe, and adopted the tone
+of the struggling artist, and the true lover, who wins his bride by
+patience, perseverance, and indomitable industry; a babbled of "Self
+Help."
+
+Meantime, Phoebe was not idle: an excellent business woman, she took
+immediate advantage of a new station that was built near the farm, to
+send up milk, butter, and eggs to London. Being genuine, they sold like
+wildfire. Observing that, she extended her operations, by buying of
+other farmers, and forwarding to London: and then, having of course an
+eye to her struggling artist, she told her father she must have a shop
+in London, and somebody in it she could depend upon.
+
+"With all my heart, wench," said he; "but it must not be thou. I can't
+spare thee."
+
+"May I have Dick, father?"
+
+"Dick! he is rather young."
+
+"But he is very quick, father, and minds every word I tell him."
+
+"Ay, he is as fond of thee as ever a cow was of a calf. Well, you can
+try him."
+
+So the love-sick woman of business set up a little shop, and put her
+brother Dick in it, and all to see more of her struggling artist. She
+stayed several days, to open the little shop, and start the business.
+She advertised pure milk, and challenged scientific analysis of
+everything she sold. This came of her being a reader; she knew, by the
+journals, that we live in a sinful and adulterating generation, and
+anything pure must be a godsend to the poor poisoned public.
+
+Now, Dr. Staines, though known to the profession as a diagnost, was also
+an analyst, and this challenge brought him down on Phoebe Dale. He
+told her he was a physician, and in search of pure food for his own
+family--would she really submit the milk to analysis?
+
+Phoebe smiled an honest country smile, and said, "Surely, sir." She gave
+him every facility, and he applied those simple tests which are commonly
+used in France, though hardly known in England.
+
+He found it perfectly pure, and told her so; and gazed at Phoebe for a
+moment, as a phenomenon.
+
+She smiled again at that, her broad country smile. "That is a wonder in
+London, I dare say. It's my belief half the children that die here are
+perished with watered milk. Well, sir, we shan't have that on our souls,
+father and I; he is a farmer in Essex. This comes a many miles, this
+milk."
+
+Staines looked in her face, with kindly approval marked on his own
+eloquent features. She blushed a little at so fixed a regard. Then he
+asked her if she would supply him with milk, butter, and eggs.
+
+"Why, if you mean sell you them, yes, sir, with pleasure. But for
+sending them home to you in this big town, as some do, I can't; for
+there's only brother Dick and me: it is an experiment like."
+
+"Very well," said Staines: "I will send for them."
+
+"Thank you kindly, sir. I hope you won't be offended, sir; but we only
+sell for ready money."
+
+"All the better: my order at home is, no bills."
+
+When he was gone, Phoebe, assuming vast experience, though this was only
+her third day, told Dick that was one of the right sort: "and oh, Dick,"
+said she, "did you notice his eye?"
+
+"Not particklar, sister."
+
+"There now; the boy is blind. Why, 'twas like a jewel. Such an eye I
+never saw in a man's head, nor a woman's neither."
+
+Staines told his wife about Phoebe and her brother, and spoke of her
+with a certain admiration that raised Rosa's curiosity, and even that
+sort of vague jealousy that fires at bare praise. "I should like to see
+this phenomenon," said she. "You shall," said he. "I have to call on
+Mrs. Manly. She lives near. I will drop you at the little shop, and come
+back for you."
+
+He did so, and that gave Rosa a quarter of an hour to make her
+purchases. When he came back he found her conversing with Phoebe, as
+if they were old friends, and Dick glaring at his wife with awe and
+admiration. He could hardly get her away.
+
+She was far more extravagant in her praises than Dr. Staines had been.
+"What a good creature!" said she. "And how clever! To think of her
+setting up a shop like that all by herself; for her Dick is only
+seventeen."
+
+Dr. Staines recommended the little shop wherever he went, and even
+extended its operations. He asked Phoebe to get her own wheat ground
+at home, and send the flour up in bushel bags. "These assassins, the
+bakers," said he, "are putting copper into the flour now, as well as
+alum. Pure flour is worth a fancy price to any family. With that we
+can make the bread of life. What you buy in the shops is the bread of
+death."
+
+Dick was a good, sharp boy, devoted to his sister. He stuck to the shop
+in London, and handed the money to Phoebe, when she came for it. She
+worked for it in Essex, and extended her country connection for supply
+as the retail business increased.
+
+Staines wrote an article on pure food, and incidentally mentioned the
+shop as a place where flour, milk, and butter were to be had pure. This
+article was published in the Lancet, and caused quite a run upon the
+little shop. By and by Phoebe enlarged it, for which there were great
+capabilities, and made herself a pretty little parlor, and there she and
+Dick sat to Falcon for their portraits; here, too, she hung his rejected
+landscapes. They were fair in her eyes; what matter whether they
+were like nature? his hand had painted them. She knew, from him, that
+everybody else had rejected them. With all the more pride and love did
+she have them framed in gold, and hung up with the portraits in her
+little sanctum.
+
+For a few months Phoebe Dale was as happy as she deserved to be. Her
+lover was working, and faithful to her--at least she saw no reason to
+doubt it. He came to see her every evening, and seemed devoted to her:
+would sit quietly with her, or walk with her, or take her to a play, or
+a music-hall--at her expense.
+
+She now lived in a quiet elysium, with a bright and rapturous dream
+of the future; for she saw she had hit on a good vein of business, and
+should soon be independent, and able to indulge herself with a husband,
+and ask no man's leave.
+
+She sent to Essex for a dairymaid, and set her to churn milk into
+butter, coram populo, at a certain hour every morning. This made a new
+sensation. At other times the woman was employed to deliver milk and
+cream to a few favored customers.
+
+Mrs. Staines dropped in now and then, and chatted with her. Her sweet
+face and her naivete won Phoebe's heart; and one day, as happiness is
+apt to be communicative, she let out to her, in reply to a feeler or two
+as to whether she was quite alone, that she was engaged to be married to
+a gentleman. "But he is not rich, ma'am," said Phoebe plaintively; "he
+has had trouble: obliged to work for his living, like me; he painted
+these pictures, EVERY ONE OF THEM. If it was not making too free, and
+you could spare a guinea--he charges no more for the picture, only you
+must go to the expense of the frame."
+
+"Of course I will," said Rosa warmly. "I'll sit for it here, any day you
+like."
+
+Now, Rosa said this, out of her ever ready kindness, not to wound
+Phoebe: but having made the promise, she kept clear of the place for
+some days, hoping Phoebe would forget all about it. Meantime she sent
+her husband to buy.
+
+In about a fortnight she called again, primed with evasions if she
+should be asked to sit; but nothing of the kind was proposed. Phoebe was
+dealing when she went in. The customers disposed of, she said to Mrs.
+Staines, "Oh, ma'am, I am glad you are come. I have something I should
+like to show you." She took her into the parlor, and made her sit down:
+then she opened a drawer, and took out a very small substance that
+looked like a tear of ground glass, and put it on the table before
+her. "There, ma'am," said she, "that is all he has had for painting a
+friend's picture."
+
+"Oh! what a shame."
+
+"His friend was going abroad--to Natal; to his uncle that farms out
+there, and does very well; it is a first-rate part, if you take out a
+little stock with you, and some money; so my one gave him credit, and
+when the letter came with that postmark, he counted on a five-pound
+note; but the letter only said he had got no money yet, but sent him
+something as a keepsake: and there was this little stone. Poor fellow!
+he flung it down in a passion; he was so disappointed."
+
+Phoebe's great gray eyes filled; and Rosa gave a little coo of sympathy
+that was very womanly and lovable.
+
+Phoebe leaned her cheek on her hand, and said thoughtfully, "I picked it
+up, and brought it away; for, after all--don't you think, ma'am, it is
+very strange that a friend should send it all that way, if it was worth
+nothing at all?"
+
+"It is impossible. He could not be so heartless."
+
+"And do you know, ma'am, when I take it up in my fingers, it doesn't
+feel like a thing that was worth nothing."
+
+"No more it does: it makes my fingers tremble. May I take it home, and
+show it my husband? he is a great physician and knows everything."
+
+"I am sure I should be obliged to you, ma'am."
+
+Rosa drove home, on purpose to show it to Christopher. She ran into
+his study: "Oh, Christopher, please look at that. You know that good
+creature we have our flour and milk and things of. She is engaged, and
+he is a painter. Oh, such daubs! He painted a friend, and the friend
+sent that home all the way from Natal, and he dashed it down, and SHE
+picked it up, and what is it? ground glass, or a pebble, or what?"
+
+"Humph!--by its shape, and the great--brilliancy--and refraction of
+light, on this angle, where the stone has got polished by rubbing
+against other stones, in the course of ages, I'm inclined to think it
+is--a diamond."
+
+"A diamond!" shrieked Rosa. "No wonder my fingers trembled. Oh, can
+it be? Oh, you good, cold-blooded Christie!--Poor things!--Come along,
+Diamond! Oh you beauty! Oh you duck!"
+
+"Don't be in such a hurry. I only said I thought it was a diamond. Let
+me weigh it against water, and then I shall KNOW."
+
+He took it to his little laboratory, and returned in a few minutes, and
+said, "Yes. It is just three times and a half heavier than water. It is
+a diamond."
+
+"Are you positive?"
+
+"I'll stake my existence."
+
+"What is it worth?"
+
+"My dear, I'm not a jeweller: but it is very large and pear-shaped,
+and I see no flaw: I don't think you could buy it for less than three
+hundred pounds."
+
+"Three hundred pounds! It is worth three hundred pounds."
+
+"Or sell it for more than a hundred and fifty pounds."
+
+"A hundred and fifty! It is worth a hundred and fifty pounds."
+
+"Why, my dear, one would think you had invented 'the diamond.' Show me
+how to crystallize carbon, and I will share your enthusiasm."
+
+"Oh, I leave you to carbonize crystal. I prefer to gladden hearts: and I
+will do it this minute, with my diamond."
+
+"Do, dear; and I will take that opportunity to finish my article on
+Adulteration."
+
+Rosa drove off to Phoebe Dale.
+
+Now Phoebe was drinking tea with Reginald Falcon, in her little parlor.
+"Who is that, I wonder?" said she, when the carriage drew up.
+
+Reginald drew back a corner of the gauze curtain which had been drawn
+across the little glass door leading from the shop.
+
+"It is a lady, and a beautiful--Oh! let me get out." And he rushed out
+at the door leading to the kitchen, not to be recognized.
+
+This set Phoebe all in a flutter, and the next moment Mrs. Staines
+tapped at the little door, then opened it, and peeped. "Good news! may I
+come in?"
+
+"Surely," said Phoebe, still troubled and confused by Reginald's strange
+agitation.
+
+"There! It is a diamond!" screamed Rosa. "My husband knew it directly.
+He knows everything. If ever you are ill, go to him and nobody else--by
+the refraction, and the angle, and its being three times and a half as
+heavy as water. It is worth three hundred pounds to buy, and a hundred
+and fifty pounds to sell."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"So don't you go throwing it away, as he did. (In a whisper.) Two
+teacups? Was that him? I have driven him away. I am so sorry. I'll go;
+and then you can tell him. Poor fellow!"
+
+"Oh, ma'am, don't go yet," said Phoebe, trembling. "I haven't half
+thanked you."
+
+"Oh, bother thanks. Kiss me; that is the way."
+
+"May I?"
+
+"You may, and must. There--and there--and there. Oh dear, what nice
+things good luck and happiness are, and how sweet to bring them for
+once."
+
+Upon this Phoebe and she had a nice little cry together, and Mrs.
+Staines went off refreshed thereby, and as gay as a lark, pointing slyly
+at the door, and making faces to Phoebe that she knew he was there, and
+she only retired, out of her admirable discretion, that they might enjoy
+the diamond together.
+
+When she was gone, Reginald, whose eye and ear had been at the keyhole,
+alternately gloating on the face and drinking the accents of the only
+woman he had ever really loved, came out, looking pale, and strangely
+disturbed; and sat down at table, without a word.
+
+Phoebe came back to him, full of the diamond. "Did you hear what she
+said, my dear? It is a diamond; it is worth a hundred and fifty pounds
+at least. Why, what ails you? Ah! to be sure! you know that lady."
+
+"I have cause to know her. Cursed jilt!"
+
+"You seem a good deal put out at the sight of her."
+
+"It took me by surprise, that is all."
+
+"It takes me by surprise too. I thought you were cured. I thought MY
+turn had come at last."
+
+Reginald met this in sullen silence. Then Phoebe was sorry she had said
+it; for, after all, it wasn't the man's fault if an old sweetheart had
+run into the room, and given him a start. So she made him some fresh
+tea, and pressed him kindly to try her home-made bread and butter.
+
+My lord relaxed his frown and consented, and of course they talked
+diamond.
+
+He told her, loftily, he must take a studio, and his sitters must come
+to him, and must no longer expect to be immortalized for one pound. It
+must be two pounds for a bust, and three pounds for a kitcat.
+
+"Nay, but, my dear," said Phoebe, "they will pay no more because you
+have a diamond."
+
+"Then they will have to go unpainted," said Mr. Falcon.
+
+This was intended for a threat. Phoebe instinctively felt that it might
+not be so received; she counselled moderation. "It is a great thing to
+have earned a diamond," said she: "but 'tis only once in a life. Now,
+be ruled by me: go on just as you are. Sell the diamond, and give me the
+money to keep for you. Why, you might add a little to it, and so would
+I, till we made it up two hundred pounds. And if you could only show two
+hundred pounds you had made and laid by, father would let us marry,
+and I might keep this shop--it pays well, I can tell you--and keep my
+gentleman in a sly corner; you need never be seen in it."
+
+"Ay, ay," said he, "that is the small game. But I am a man that have
+always preferred the big game. I shall set up my studio, and make enough
+to keep us both. So give me the stone, if you please. I shall take it
+round to them all, and the rogues won't get it out of ME for a hundred
+and fifty; why, it is as big as a nut."
+
+"No, no, Reginald. Money has always made mischief between you and me.
+You never had fifty pounds yet, you didn't fall into temptation. Do
+pray let me keep it for you; or else sell it--I know how to sell; nobody
+better--and keep the money for a good occasion."
+
+"Is it yours, or mine?" said he, sulkily.
+
+"Why yours, dear; you earned it."
+
+"Then give it me, please." And he almost forced it out of her hand.
+
+So now she sat down and cried over this piece of good luck, for her
+heart filled with forebodings.
+
+He laughed at her, but at last had the grace to console her, and assure
+her she was tormenting herself for nothing.
+
+"Time will show," said she, sadly.
+
+Time did show.
+
+Three or four days he came, as usual, to laugh her out of her
+forebodings. But presently his visits ceased. She knew what that meant:
+he was living like a gentleman, melting his diamond, and playing her
+false with the first pretty face he met.
+
+This blow, coming after she had been so happy, struck Phoebe Dale stupid
+with grief. The line on her high forehead deepened; and at night she sat
+with her hands before her, sighing, and sighing, and listening for the
+footsteps that never came.
+
+"Oh, Dick!" she said, "never you love any one. I am aweary of my life.
+And to think that, but for that diamond--oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!"
+
+Then Dick used to try and comfort her in his way, and often put his arm
+round her neck, and gave her his rough but honest sympathy. Dick's rare
+affection was her one drop of comfort; it was something to relieve her
+swelling heart.
+
+"Oh, Dick!" she said to him one night, "I wish I had married him."
+
+"What, to be ill-used?"
+
+"He couldn't use me worse. I have been wife, and mother, and sweetheart,
+and all, to him; and to be left like this. He treats me like the dirt
+beneath his feet."
+
+"'Tis your own fault, Phoebe, partly. You say the word, and I'll break
+every bone in his carcass."
+
+"What, do him a mischief! Why, I'd rather die than harm a hair of his
+head. You must never lift a hand to him, or I shall hate you."
+
+"Hate ME, Phoebe?"
+
+"Ay, boy: I should. God forgive me: 'tis no use deceiving ourselves;
+when a woman loves a man she despises, never you come between them;
+there's no reason in her love, so it is incurable. One comfort, it can't
+go on forever; it must kill me, before my time and so best. If I was
+only a mother, and had a little Reginald to dandle on my knee and gloat
+upon, till he spent his money, and came back to me. That's why I said I
+wished I was his wife. Oh! why does God fill a poor woman's bosom with
+love, and nothing to spend it on but a stone; for sure his heart must be
+one. If I had only something that would let me always love it, a little
+toddling thing at my knee, that would always let me look at it, and love
+it, something too young to be false to me, too weak to run away from my
+long--ing--arms--and--year--ning heart!" Then came a burst of agony,
+and moans of desolation, till poor puzzled Dick blubbered loudly at her
+grief; and then her tears flowed in streams.
+
+Trouble on trouble. Dick himself got strangely out of sorts, and
+complained of shivers. Phoebe sent him to bed early, and made him some
+white wine whey very hot. In the morning he got up, and said he was
+better; but after breakfast he was violently sick, and suffered several
+returns of nausea before noon. "One would think I was poisoned," said
+he.
+
+At one o'clock he was seized with a kind of spasm in the throat that
+lasted so long it nearly choked him.
+
+Then Phoebe got frightened, and sent to the nearest surgeon. He did not
+hurry, and poor Dick had another frightful spasm just as he came in.
+
+"It is hysterical," said the surgeon. "No disease of the heart, is
+there? Give him a little sal-volatile every half hour."
+
+In spite of the sal-volatile these terrible spasms seized him every half
+hour; and now he used to spring off the bed with a cry of terror when
+they came; and each one left him weaker and weaker; he had to be carried
+back by the women.
+
+A sad, sickening fear seized on Phoebe. She left Dick with the maid, and
+tying on her bonnet in a moment, rushed wildly down the street, asking
+the neighbors for a great doctor, the best that could be had for money.
+One sent her east a mile, another west, and she was almost distracted,
+when who should drive up but Dr. and Mrs. Staines, to make purchases.
+She did not know his name, but she knew he was a doctor. She ran to the
+window, and cried, "Oh, doctor, my brother! Oh, pray come to him. Oh!
+oh!"
+
+Dr. Staines got quickly, but calmly, out; told his wife to wait; and
+followed Phoebe up-stairs. She told him in a few agitated words how Dick
+had been taken, and all the symptoms; especially what had alarmed her
+so, his springing off the bed when the spasm came.
+
+Dr. Staines told her to hold the patient up. He lost not a moment, but
+opened his mouth resolutely, and looked down.
+
+"The glottis is swollen," said he: then he felt his hands, and said,
+with the grave, terrible calm of experience, "He is dying."
+
+"Oh, no! no! Oh, doctor, save him! save him!"
+
+"Nothing can save him, unless we had a surgeon on the spot. Yes, I might
+save him, if you have the courage: opening his windpipe before the next
+spasm is his one chance."
+
+"Open his windpipe! Oh, doctor! It will kill him. Let me look at you."
+
+She looked hard in his face. It gave her confidence.
+
+"Is it the only chance?"
+
+"The only one: and it is flying while we chatter."
+
+"DO IT."
+
+He whipped out his lancet.
+
+"But I can't look on it. I trust to you and my Saviour's mercy."
+
+She fell on her knees, and bowed her head in prayer.
+
+Staines seized a basin, put it by the bedside, made an incision in
+the windpipe, and got Dick down on his stomach, with his face over the
+bedside. Some blood ran, but not much. "Now!" he cried, cheerfully, "a
+small bellows! There's one in your parlor. Run."
+
+Phoebe ran for it, and at Dr. Staines' direction lifted Dick a little,
+while the bellows, duly cleansed, were gently applied to the aperture
+in the windpipe, and the action of the lungs delicately aided by this
+primitive but effectual means.
+
+He showed Phoebe how to do it, tore a leaf out of his pocket-book, wrote
+a hasty direction to an able surgeon near, and sent his wife off with it
+in the carriage.
+
+Phoebe and he never left the patient till the surgeon came with all the
+instruments required; amongst the rest, with a big, tortuous pair of
+nippers, with which he could reach the glottis, and snip it. But they
+consulted, and thought it wiser to continue the surer method; and so
+a little tube was neatly inserted into Dick's windpipe, and his throat
+bandaged; and by this aperture he did his breathing for some little
+time.
+
+Phoebe nursed him like a mother; and the terror and the joy did her
+good, and made her less desolate.
+
+Dick was only just well when both of them were summoned to the farm,
+and arrived only just in time to receive their father's blessing and his
+last sigh.
+
+Their elder brother, a married man, inherited the farm, and was
+executor. Phoebe and Dick were left fifteen hundred pounds apiece, on
+condition of their leaving England and going to Natal.
+
+They knew directly what that meant. Phoebe was to be parted from a bad
+man, and Dick was to comfort her for the loss.
+
+When this part of the will was read to Phoebe, she turned faint, and
+only her health and bodily vigor kept her from swooning right away.
+
+But she yielded. "It is the will of the dead," said she, "and I will
+obey it; for, oh, if I had but listened to him more when he was alive to
+advise me, I should not sit here now, sick at heart and dry-eyed, when I
+ought to be thinking only of the good friend that is gone."
+
+When she had come to this she became feverishly anxious to be gone. She
+busied herself in purchasing agricultural machines, and stores, and even
+stock; and to see her pinching the beasts' ribs to find their condition,
+and parrying all attempts to cheat her, you would never have believed
+she could be a love-sick woman.
+
+Dick kept her up to the mark. He only left her to bargain with the
+master of a good vessel; for it was no trifle to take out horses and
+cows, and machines, and bales of cloth, cotton, and linen.
+
+When that was settled they came in to town together, and Phoebe bought
+shrewdly, at wholesale houses in the city, for cash, and would have
+bargains: and the little shop in ----- Street was turned into a
+warehouse.
+
+They were all ardor, as colonists should be; and what pleased Dick most,
+she never mentioned Falcon; yet he learned from the maid that worthy had
+been there twice, looking very seedy.
+
+The day drew near. Dick was in high spirits.
+
+"We shall soon make our fortune out there," he said; "and I'll get you a
+good husband."
+
+She shuddered, but said nothing.
+
+The evening before they were to sail, Phoebe sat alone, in her black
+dress, tired with work, and asking herself, sick at heart, could she
+ever really leave England, when the door opened softly, and Reginald
+Falcon, shabbily dressed, came in, and threw himself into a chair.
+
+She started up with a scream, then sank down again, trembling, and
+turned her face to the wall.
+
+"So you are going to run away from me!" said he savagely.
+
+"Ay, Reginald," said she meekly.
+
+"This is your fine love, is it?"
+
+"You have worn it out, dear," she said softly, without turning her head
+from the wall.
+
+"I wish I could say as much; but, curse it, every time I leave you I
+learn to love you more. I am never really happy but when I am with you."
+
+"Bless you for saying that, dear. I often thought you MUST find that out
+one day; but you took too long."
+
+"Oh, better late than never. Phoebe! Can you have the heart to go to the
+Cape, and leave me all alone in the world, with nobody that really cares
+for me? Surely you are not obliged to go."
+
+"Yes; my father left Dick and me fifteen hundred pounds apiece to go:
+that was the condition. Poor Dick loves his unhappy sister. He won't go
+without me--I should be his ruin--poor Dick, that really loves me;
+and he lay a-dying here, and the good doctor and me--God bless him--we
+brought him back from the grave. Ah, you little know what I have
+gone through. You were not here. Catch you being near me when I am in
+trouble. There, I must go. I must go. I will go; if I fling myself into
+the sea half way."
+
+"And, if you do, I'll take a dose of poison; for I have thrown away the
+truest heart, the sweetest, most unselfish, kindest, generous--oh! oh!
+oh!"
+
+And he began to howl.
+
+This set Phoebe sobbing. "Don't cry, dear," she murmured through her
+tears; "if you have really any love for me, come with me."
+
+"What, leave England, and go to a desert?"
+
+"Love can make a desert a garden."
+
+"Phoebe, I'll do anything else. I'll swear not to leave your side. I'll
+never look at any other face but yours. But I can't live in Africa."
+
+"I know you can't. It takes a little real love to go there with a poor
+girl like me. Ah, well, I'd have made you so happy. We are not poor
+emigrants. I have a horse for you to ride, and guns to shoot; and me and
+Dick would do all the work for you. But there are others here you can't
+leave for me. Well, then, good-by, dear. In Africa, or here, I shall
+always love you; and many a salt tear I shall shed for you yet, many a
+one I have, as well you know. God bless you. Pray for poor Phoebe, that
+goes against her will to Africa, and leaves her heart with thee."
+
+This was too much even for the selfish Reginald. He kneeled at her
+knees, and took her hand, and kissed it, and actually shed a tear or two
+over it.
+
+She could not speak. He had no hope of changing her resolution; and
+presently he heard Dick's voice outside, so he got up to avoid him.
+"I'll come again in the morning, before you go."
+
+"Oh, no! no!" she gasped. "Unless you want me to die at your feet. I am
+almost dead now."
+
+Reginald slipped out by the kitchen.
+
+Dick came in, and found his sister leaning with her head back against
+the wall. "Why, Phoebe," said he, "whatever is the matter?" and he took
+her by the shoulder.
+
+She moaned, and he felt her all limp and powerless.
+
+"What is it, lass? Whatever is the matter? Is it about going away?"
+
+She would not speak for a long time.
+
+When she did speak, it was to say something for which my male reader may
+not be prepared. But it will not surprise the women.
+
+"O Dick--forgive me!"
+
+"Why, what for?"
+
+"Forgive me, or else kill me: I don't care which."
+
+"I do, though. There, I forgive you. Now what's your crime?"
+
+"I can't go. Forgive me!"
+
+"Can't go?"
+
+"I can't. Forgive me!"
+
+"I'm blessed if I don't believe that vagabond has been here tormenting
+of you again."
+
+"Oh, don't miscall him. He is penitent. Yes, Dick, he has been here
+crying to me--and I can't leave him. I can't--I can't. Dear Dick! you
+are young and stout-hearted; take all the things over, and make your
+fortune out there, and leave your poor foolish sister behind. I should
+only fling myself into the salt sea if I left him now, and that would be
+peace to me, but a grief to thee."
+
+"Lordsake, Phoebe, don't talk so. I can't go without you. And do but
+think, why, the horses are on board by now, and all the gear. It's my
+belief a good hiding is all you want, to bring you to your senses; but
+I han't the heart to give you one, worse luck. Blessed if I know what to
+say or do."
+
+"I won't go!" cried Phoebe, turning violent all of a sudden. "No, not if
+I am dragged to the ship by the hair of my head. Forgive me!" And with
+that word she was a mouse again.
+
+"Eh, but women are kittle cattle to drive," said poor Dick ruefully. And
+down he sat at a nonplus, and very unhappy.
+
+Phoebe sat opposite, sullen, heart-sick, wretched to the core; but
+determined not to leave Reginald.
+
+Then came an event that might have been foreseen, yet it took them both
+by surprise.
+
+A light step was heard, and a graceful, though seedy, figure entered the
+room with a set speech in his mouth: "Phoebe, you are right. I owe it to
+your long and faithful affection to make a sacrifice for you. I will go
+to Africa with you. I will go to the end of the world, sooner than you
+shall say I care for any woman on earth but you."
+
+Both brother and sister were so unprepared for this, that they could
+hardly realize it at first.
+
+Phoebe turned her great, inquiring eyes on the speaker, and it was
+a sight to see amazement, doubt, hope, and happiness animating her
+features, one after another.
+
+"Is this real?" said she.
+
+"I will sail with you to-morrow, Phoebe; and I will make you a good
+husband, if you will have me."
+
+"That is spoke like a man," said Dick. "You take him at his word,
+Phoebe; and if he ill-uses you out there, I'll break every bone in his
+skin."
+
+"How dare you threaten him?" said Phoebe. "You had best leave the room."
+
+Out went poor Dick, with the tear in his eye at being snubbed so. While
+he was putting up the shutters, Phoebe was making love to her pseudo
+penitent. "My dear," said she, "trust yourself to me. You don't know all
+my love yet; for I have never been your wife, and I would not be your
+jade; that is the only thing I ever refused you. Trust yourself to me.
+Why, you never found happiness with others; try it with me. It shall
+be the best day's work you ever did, going out in the ship with me. You
+don't know how happy a loving wife can make her husband. I'll pet you
+out there as man was never petted. And besides, it isn't for life; Dick
+and me will soon make a fortune out there, and then I'll bring you home,
+and see you spend it any way you like but one. Oh, how I love you! do
+you love me a little? I worship the ground you walk on. I adore every
+hair of your head!" Her noble arm went round his neck in a moment, and
+the grandeur of her passion electrified him so far that he kissed her
+affectionately, if not quite so warmly as she did him: and so it was all
+settled. The maid was discharged that night instead of the morning, and
+Reginald was to occupy her bed. Phoebe went up-stairs with her heart
+literally on fire, to prepare his sleeping-room, and so Dick and
+Reginald had a word.
+
+"I say, Dick, how long will this voyage be?"
+
+"Two months, sir, I am told."
+
+"Please to cast your eyes on this suit of mine. Don't you think it is
+rather seedy--to go to Africa with? Why, I shall disgrace you on board
+the ship. I say, Dick, lend me three sovs., just to buy a new suit at
+the slop-shop."
+
+"Well, brother-in-law," said Dick, "I don't see any harm in that. I'll
+go and fetch them for you."
+
+What does this sensible Dick do but go up-stairs to Phoebe, and say, "He
+wants three pounds to buy a suit; am I to lend it him?"
+
+Phoebe was shaking and patting her penitent's pillow. She dropped it
+on the bed in dismay. "Oh, Dick, not for all the world! Why, if he had
+three sovereigns, he'd desert me at the water's edge. Oh, God help me,
+how I love him! God forgive me, how I mistrust him! Good Dick! kind
+Dick! say we have suits of clothes, and we'll fit him like a prince,
+as he ought to be, on board ship; but not a shilling of money: and, my
+dear, don't put the weight on ME. You understand?"
+
+"Ay, mistress, I understand."
+
+"Good Dick!"
+
+"Oh, all right! and then don't you snap this here good, kind Dick's nose
+off at a word again."
+
+"Never. I get wild if anybody threatens him. Then I'm not myself.
+Forgive my hasty tongue. You know I love you, dear!"
+
+"Oh, ay! you love me well enough. But seems to me your love is precious
+like cold veal, and your love for that chap is hot roast beef."
+
+"Ha, ha, ha, ha!"
+
+"Oh, ye can laugh now, can ye?"
+
+"Ha, ha, ha!"
+
+"Well, the more of that music, the better for me."
+
+"Yes, dear; but go and tell him."
+
+Dick went down, and said, "I've got no money to spare, till I get to the
+Cape; but Phoebe has got a box full of suits, and I made her promise to
+keep it out. She will dress you like a prince, you may be sure."
+
+"Oh, that is it, is it?" said Reginald dryly.
+
+Dick made no reply.
+
+At nine o'clock they were on board the vessel; at ten she weighed
+anchor, and a steam-vessel drew her down the river about thirty miles,
+then cast off, and left her to the south-easterly breeze. Up went sail
+after sail; she nodded her lofty head, and glided away for Africa.
+
+Phoebe shed a few natural tears at leaving the shores of Old England;
+but they soon dried. She was demurely happy, watching her prize, and
+asking herself had she really secured it, and all in a few hours?
+
+They had a prosperous voyage: were married at Cape Town, and went up
+the country, bag and baggage, looking out for a good bargain in land.
+Reginald was mounted on an English horse, and allowed to zigzag about,
+and shoot, and play, while his wife and brother-in-law marched slowly
+with their cavalcade.
+
+What with air, exercise, wholesome food, and smiles of welcome, and
+delicious petting, this egotist enjoyed himself finely. He admitted as
+much. Says he, one evening to his wife, who sat by him for the pleasure
+of seeing him feed, "It sounds absurd; but I never was so happy in all
+my life."
+
+At that, the celestial expression of her pastoral face, and the maternal
+gesture with which she drew her pet's head to her queenly bosom, was a
+picture for celibacy to gnash the teeth at.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+During this period, the most remarkable things that happened to Dr. and
+Mrs. Staines were really those which I have related as connecting them
+with Phoebe Dale and her brother; to which I will now add that Dr.
+Staines detailed Dick's case in a remarkable paper, entitled "Oedema of
+the Glottis," and showed how the patient had been brought back from
+the grave by tracheotomy and artificial respiration. He received a high
+price for this article.
+
+To tell the truth, he was careful not to admit that it was he who had
+opened the windpipe; so the credit of the whole operation was given to
+Mr. Jenkyn; and this gentleman was naturally pleased, and threw a good
+many consultation fees in Staines's way.
+
+The Lucases, to his great comfort--for he had an instinctive aversion to
+Miss Lucas--left London for Paris in August, and did not return all the
+year.
+
+In February he reviewed his year's work and twelve months' residence in
+the Bijou. The pecuniary result was, outgoings, nine hundred and fifty
+pounds; income, from fees, two hundred and eighty pounds; writing,
+ninety pounds.
+
+He showed these figures to Mrs. Staines, and asked her if she
+could suggest any diminution of expenditure. Could she do with less
+housekeeping money?
+
+"Oh, impossible! You cannot think how the servants eat; and they won't
+touch our home-made bread."
+
+"The fools! Why?"
+
+"Oh, because they think it costs us less. Servants seem to me always to
+hate the people whose bread they eat."
+
+"More likely it is their vanity. Nothing that is not paid for before
+their eyes seems good enough for them. Well, dear, the bakers will
+revenge us. But is there any other item we could reduce? Dress?"
+
+"Dress! Why, I spend nothing."
+
+"Forty-five pounds this year."
+
+"Well, I shall want none next year."
+
+"Well, then, Rosa, as there is nothing we can reduce, I must write more,
+and take more fees, or we shall be in the wrong box. Only eight hundred
+and sixty pounds left of our little capital; and, mind, we have not
+another shilling in the world. One comfort, there is no debt. We pay
+ready money for everything."
+
+Rosa colored a little, but said nothing.
+
+Staines did his part nobly. He read; he wrote; he paced the yard. He
+wore his old clothes in the house; he took off his new ones when he came
+in. He was all genius, drudgery, patience.
+
+How Phoebe Dale would have valued him, co-operated with him, and petted
+him, if she had had the good luck to be his wife!
+
+The season came back, and with it Miss Lucas, towing a brilliant bride,
+Mrs. Vivian, young, rich, pretty, and gay, with a waist you could span,
+and athirst for pleasure.
+
+This lady was the first that ever made Rosa downright jealous. She
+seemed to have everything the female heart could desire; and she was No.
+1 with Miss Lucas this year. Now, Rosa was No. 1 last season, and had
+weakly imagined that was to last forever. But Miss Lucas had always a
+sort of female flame, and it never lasted two seasons.
+
+Rosa did not care so very much for Miss Lucas before, except as a
+convenient friend; but now she was mortified to tears at finding Miss
+Lucas made more fuss with another than with her.
+
+This foolish feeling spurred her to attempt a rivalry with Mrs. Vivian,
+in the very things where rivalry was hopeless.
+
+Miss Lucas gave both ladies tickets for a flower-show, where all the
+great folk were to be, princes and princesses, etc.
+
+"But I have nothing to wear," sighed Rosa.
+
+"Then you must get something, and mind it is not pink, please; for we
+must not clash in colors. You know I'm dark, and pink becomes me. (The
+selfish young brute was not half so dark as Rosa.) Mine is coming
+from Worth's, in Paris, on purpose. And this new Madame Cie, of Regent
+Street, has such a duck of a bonnet, just come from Paris. She wanted
+to make me one from it; but I told her I would have none but the pattern
+bonnet--and she knows very well she can't pass a copy off on me. Let
+me drive you up there, and you can see mine, and order one, if you like
+it."
+
+"Oh, thank you! let me just run and speak to my husband first."
+
+Staines was writing for the bare life, and a number of German books
+about him, slaving to make a few pounds--when in comes the buoyant
+figure and beaming face his soul delighted in.
+
+He laid down his work, to enjoy the sunbeam of love.
+
+"Oh, darling, I've only come in for a minute. We are going to
+a flower-show on the 13th; everybody will be so beautifully
+dressed--especially that Mrs. Vivian. I have got ten yards of beautiful
+blue silk in my wardrobe, but that is not enough to make a whole
+dress--everything takes so much stuff now. Madame Cie does not care
+to make up dresses unless she finds the silk, but Miss Lucas says she
+thinks, to oblige a friend of hers, she would do it for once in a way.
+You know, dear, it would only take a few yards more, and it would last
+as a dinner-dress for ever so long."
+
+Then she clasped him round the neck, and leaned her head upon his
+shoulder, and looked lovingly up in his face. "I know you would like
+your Rosa to look as well as Mrs. Vivian."
+
+"No one ever looks as well, in my eyes, as my Rosa. There, the dress
+will add nothing to your beauty; but go and get it, to please yourself;
+it is very considerate of you to have chosen something of which you have
+ten yards, already. See, dear, I'm to receive twenty pounds for this
+article; if research was paid it ought to be a hundred. I shall add it
+all to your allowance for dresses this year. So no debt, mind; but come
+to me for everything."
+
+The two ladies drove off to Madame Cie's, a pretty shop lined with dark
+velvet and lace draperies.
+
+In the back room they were packing a lovely bridal dress, going off the
+following Saturday to New York.
+
+"What, send from America to London?"
+
+"Oh, dear, yes!" exclaimed Madame Cie. "The American ladies are
+excellent customers. They buy everything of the best, and the most
+expensive."
+
+"I have brought a new customer," said Miss Lucas; "and I want you to do
+a great favor, and that is to match a blue silk, and make her a pretty
+dress for the flower-show on the 13th."
+
+Madame Cie produced a white muslin polonaise, which she was just going
+to send home to the Princess -----, to be worn over mauve.
+
+"Oh, how pretty and simple!" exclaimed Miss Lucas.
+
+"I have some lace exactly like that," said Mrs. Staines.
+
+"Then why don't you have a polonaise? The lace is the only expensive
+part, the muslin is a mere nothing; and it is such a useful dress, it
+can be worn over any silk."
+
+It was agreed Madame Cie was to send for the blue silk and the lace, and
+the dresses were to be tried on on Thursday.
+
+On Thursday, as Rosa went gayly into Madame Cie's back room to have the
+dresses tried on, Madame Cie said, "You have a beautiful lace shawl,
+but it wants arranging; in five minutes I could astonish you with what I
+could do to that shawl."
+
+"Oh, pray do," said Mrs. Staines.
+
+The dressmaker kept her word. By the time the blue dress was tried on,
+Madame Cie had, with the aid of a few pins, plaits, and a bow of blue
+ribbon, transformed the half lace shawl into one of the smartest and
+distingue things imaginable; but when the bill came in at Christmas,
+for that five minutes' labor and distingue touch, she charged one pound
+eight.
+
+Madame Cie then told the ladies, in an artfully confidential tone,
+she had a quantity of black silk coming home, which she had purchased
+considerably below cost price; and that she should like to make them
+each a dress--not for her own sake, but theirs--as she knew they would
+never meet such a bargain again. "You know, Miss Lucas," she continued,
+"we don't want our money, when we know our customers. Christmas is soon
+enough for us."
+
+"Christmas is a long time off," thought the young wife, "nearly ten
+months. I think I'll have a black silk, Madame Cie; but I must not
+say anything to the doctor about it just yet, or he might think me
+extravagant."
+
+"No one can ever think a lady extravagant for buying a black silk; it's
+such a useful dress; lasts forever--almost."
+
+Days, weeks, and months rolled on, and with them an ever-rolling tide of
+flower-shows, dinners, at-homes, balls, operas, lawn-parties, concerts,
+and theatres.
+
+Strange that in one house there should be two people who loved each
+other, yet their lives ran so far apart, except while they were asleep:
+the man all industry, self-denial, patience; the woman all frivolity,
+self-indulgence, and amusement; both chained to an oar, only--one in a
+working boat, the other in a painted galley.
+
+The woman got tired first, and her charming color waned sadly. She came
+to him for medicine to set her up. "I feel so languid."
+
+"No, no," said he; "no medicine can do the work of wholesome food and
+rational repose. You lack the season of all natures, sleep. Dine at home
+three days running, and go to bed at ten."
+
+On this the doctor's wife went to a chemist for advice. He gave her
+a pink stimulant; and, as stimulants have two effects, viz., first to
+stimulate, and then to weaken, this did her no lasting good. Dr. Staines
+cursed the London season, and threatened to migrate to Liverpool.
+
+But there was worse behind.
+
+Returning one day to his dressing-room, just after Rosa had come
+down-stairs, he caught sight of a red stain in a wash-hand-basin. He
+examined it; it was arterial blood.
+
+He went to her directly, and expressed his anxiety.
+
+"Oh, it is nothing," said she.
+
+"Nothing! Pray, how often has it occurred?"
+
+"Once or twice. I must take your advice, and be quiet, that is all."
+
+Staines examined the housemaid; she lied instinctively at first, seeing
+he was alarmed; but, being urged to tell the truth, said she had seen it
+repeatedly, and had told the cook.
+
+He went down-stairs again, and sat down, looking wretched.
+
+"Oh, dear!" said Rosa. "What is the matter now?"
+
+"Rosa," said he, very gravely, "there are two people a woman is mad to
+deceive--her husband and her physician. You have deceived both."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+I suspect Dr. Staines merely meant to say that she had concealed from
+him an alarming symptom for several weeks; but she answered in a hurry,
+to excuse herself, and let the cat out of the bag--excuse my vulgarity.
+
+"It was all that Mrs. Vivian's fault. She laughed at me so for not
+wearing them; and she has a waist you can span--the wretch!"
+
+"Oh, then, you have been wearing stays clandestinely?"
+
+"Why, you know I have. Oh, what a stupid! I have let it all out."
+
+"How could you do it, when you knew, by experience, it is your death?"
+
+"But it looks so beautiful, a tiny waist."
+
+"It looks as hideous as a Chinese foot, and, to the eye of science, far
+more disgusting; it is the cause of so many unlovely diseases."
+
+"Just tell me one thing; have you looked at Mrs. Vivian?"
+
+"Minutely. I look at all your friends with great anxiety, knowing no
+animal more dangerous than a fool. Vivian--a skinny woman, with a pretty
+face, lovely hair, good teeth, dying eyes"--
+
+"Yes, lovely!"
+
+"A sure proof of a disordered stomach--and a waist pinched in so
+unnaturally, that I said to myself, 'Where on earth does this idiot put
+her liver?' Did you ever read of the frog who burst, trying to swell to
+an ox? Well, here is the rivalry reversed; Mrs. Vivian is a bag of bones
+in a balloon; she can machine herself into a wasp; but a fine young
+woman like you, with flesh and muscle, must kill yourself three or four
+times before you can make your body as meagre, hideous, angular, and
+unnatural as Vivian's. But all you ladies are mono-maniacs; one might as
+well talk sense to a gorilla. It brought you to the edge of the grave.
+I saved you. Yet you could go and--God grant me patience. So I suppose
+these unprincipled women lent you their stays to deceive your husband?"
+
+"No. But they laughed at me so that--Oh, Christie, I'm a wretch; I kept
+a pair at the Lucases, and a pair at Madame Cie's, and I put them on now
+and then."
+
+"But you never appeared here in them?"
+
+"What, before my tyrant? Oh no, I dared not."
+
+"So you took them off before you came home?"
+
+Rosa hung her head, and said "Yes" in a reluctant whisper.
+
+"You spent your daylight dressing. You dressed to go out; dressed again
+in stays; dressed again without them; and all to deceive your husband,
+and kill yourself, at the bidding of two shallow, heartless women, who
+would dance over your grave without a pang of remorse, or sentiment of
+any kind, since they live, like midges, ONLY TO DANCE IN THE SUN, AND
+SUCK SOME WORKER'S BLOOD."
+
+"Oh, Christie! I'm so easily led. I am too great a fool to live. Kill
+me!"
+
+And she kneeled down, and renewed the request, looking up in his face
+with an expression that might have disarmed Cain ipsum.
+
+He smiled superior. "The question is, are you sorry you have been so
+thoughtless?"
+
+"Yes, dear. Oh! oh!"
+
+"Will you be very good to make up?"
+
+"Oh, yes. Only tell me how; for it does not come natural to poor me."
+
+"Keep out of those women's way for the rest of the season."
+
+"I will."
+
+"Bring your stays home, and allow me to do what I like with them."
+
+"Of course. Cut them in a million pieces."
+
+"Till you are recovered, you must be my patient, and go nowhere without
+me."
+
+"That is no punishment, I am sure."
+
+"Punishment! Am I the man to punish you? I only want to save you."
+
+"Well, darling, it won't be the first time."
+
+"No; but I do hope it will be the last."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+"Sublata causa tollitur effectus." The stays being gone, and dissipation
+moderated, Mrs. Staines bloomed again, and they gave one or two
+unpretending little dinners at the Bijou. Dr. Staines admitted no false
+friends to these. They never went beyond eight; five gentlemen, three
+ladies. By this arrangement the terrible discursiveness of the fair, and
+man's cruel disposition to work a subject threadbare, were controlled
+and modified, and a happy balance of conversation established. Lady
+Cicely Treherne was always invited, and always managed to come; for she
+said, "They were the most agweeable little paaties in London, and the
+host and hostess both so intewesting." In the autumn, Staines worked
+double tides with the pen, and found a vehicle for medical narratives in
+a weekly magazine that did not profess medicine.
+
+This new vein put him in heart. His fees, towards the end of the year,
+were less than last year, because there was no hundred-guinea fee; but
+there was a marked increase in the small fees, and the unflagging pen
+had actually earned him two hundred pounds, or nearly. So he was in good
+spirits.
+
+Not so Mrs. Staines; for some time she had been uneasy, fretful, and
+like a person with a weight on her mind.
+
+One Sunday she said to him, "Oh, dear, I do feel so dull. Nobody to go
+to church with, nor yet to the Zoo."
+
+"I'll go with you," said Staines.
+
+"You will! To which?"
+
+"To both; in for a penny, in for a pound."
+
+So to church they went; and Staines, whose motto was "Hoc age," minded
+his book. Rosa had intervals of attention to the words, but found plenty
+of time to study the costumes.
+
+During the Litany in bustled Clara, the housemaid, with a white jacket
+on so like her mistress's, that Rosa clutched her own convulsively,
+to see whether she had not been skinned of it by some devilish
+sleight-of-hand.
+
+No, it was on her back; but Clara's was identical.
+
+In her excitement, Rosa pinched Staines, and with her nose, that went
+like a water-wagtail, pointed out the malefactor. Then she whispered,
+"Look! How dare she? My very jacket! Earrings too, and brooches, and
+dresses her hair like mine."
+
+"Well, never mind," whispered Staines. "Sunday is her day. We have
+got all the week to shine. There, don't look at her--'From all evil
+speaking, lying, and slandering'"--
+
+"I can't keep my eyes off her."
+
+"Attend to the Litany. Do you know, this is really a beautiful
+composition?"
+
+"I'd rather do the work fifty times over myself."
+
+"Hush! people will hear you."
+
+When they walked home after church, Staines tried to divert her from the
+consideration of her wrongs; but no--all other topics were too flat by
+comparison.
+
+She mourned the hard fate of mistresses--unfortunate creatures that
+could not do without servants.
+
+"Is not that a confession that servants are good, useful creatures,
+with all their faults? Then as to the mania for dress, why, that is not
+confined to them. It is the mania of the sex. Are you free from it?"
+
+"No, of course not. But I am a lady, if you please."
+
+"Then she is your intellectual inferior, and more excusable. Anyway, it
+is wise to connive at a thing we can't help."
+
+"What keep her, after this? no, never."
+
+"My dear, pray do not send her away, for she is tidy in the house, and
+quick, and better than any one we have had this last six months; and you
+know you have tried a great number."
+
+"To hear you speak, one would think it was my fault that we have so many
+bad servants."
+
+"I never said it was your fault; but I THINK, dearest, a little more
+forbearance in trifles"--
+
+"Trifles! trifles--for a mistress and maid to be seen dressed alike in
+the same church? You take the servants' part against me, that you do."
+
+"You should not say that, even in jest. Come now, do you really think
+a jacket like yours can make the servant look like you, or detract from
+your grace and beauty? There is a very simple way; put your jacket by
+for a future occasion, and wear something else in its stead at church."
+
+"A nice thing, indeed, to give in to these creatures. I won't do it."
+
+"Why won't you, this once?"
+
+"Because I won't--there!"
+
+"That is unanswerable," said he.
+
+Mrs. Staines said that; but when it came to acting, she deferred to
+her husband's wish; she resigned her intention of sending for Clara
+and giving her warning. On the contrary, when Clara let her in, and the
+white jackets rubbed together in the narrow passage, she actually said
+nothing, but stalked to her own room, and tore her jacket off, and flung
+it on the floor.
+
+Unfortunately, she was so long dressing for the Zoo, that Clara came
+in to arrange the room. She picks up the white jacket, takes it in both
+hands, gives it a flap, and proceeds to hang it up in the wardrobe.
+
+Then the great feminine heart burst its bounds.
+
+"You can leave that alone. I shall not wear that again."
+
+Thereupon ensued an uneven encounter, Clara being one of those of whom
+the Scripture says, "The poison of asps is under their tongues."
+
+"La, ma'am," said she, "why, 'tain't so very dirty."
+
+"No; but it is too common."
+
+"Oh, because I've got one like it. Ay. Missises can't abide a
+good-looking servant, nor to see 'em dressed becoming."
+
+"Mistresses do not like servants to forget their place, nor wear what
+does not become their situation."
+
+"My situation! Why, I can pay my way, go where I will. I don't tremble
+at the tradesmen's knock, as some do."
+
+"Leave the room! Leave it this moment."
+
+"Leave the room, yes--and I'll leave the house too, and tell all the
+neighbors what I know about it."
+
+She flounced out and slammed the door; and Rosa sat down, trembling.
+
+Clara rushed to the kitchen, and there told the cook and Andrew Pearman
+how she had given it to the mistress, and every word she had said to
+her, with a good many more she had not.
+
+The cook laughed and encouraged her.
+
+But Andrew Pearman was wroth, and said, "You to affront our mistress
+like that! Why, if I had heard you, I'd have twisted your neck for ye."
+
+"It would take a better man than you to do that. You mind your own
+business. Stick to your one-horse chay."
+
+"Well, I'm not above my place, for that matter. But you gals must always
+be aping your betters."
+
+"I have got a proper pride, that is all, and you haven't. You ought to
+be ashamed of yourself to do two men's work; drive a brougham and wait
+on a horse, and then come in and wait at table, You are a tea-kettle
+groom, that is what you are. Why, my brother was coachman to Lord
+Fitz-James, and gave his lordship notice the first time he had to drive
+the children. Says he, 'I don't object to the children, my lord, but
+with her ladyship in the carriage.' It's such servants as you as spoil
+places. No servant as knows what's due to a servant ought to know you.
+They'd scorn your 'quaintance, as I do, Mr. Pearman."
+
+"You are a stuck-up hussy, and a soldier's jade," roared Andrew.
+
+"And you are a low tea-kettle groom."
+
+This expression wounded the great equestrian soul to the quick; the rest
+of Sunday he pondered on it; the next morning he drove the doctor, as
+usual, but with a heavy heart.
+
+Meantime, the cook made haste and told the baker Pearman had "got it
+hot" from the housemaid, and she had called him a tea-kettle groom; and
+in less than half an hour after that it was in every stable in the mews.
+Why, as Pearman was taking the horse out of the brougham, didn't two
+little red-headed urchins call out, "Here, come and see the tea-kettle
+groom!" and at night some mischievous boy chalked on the black door of
+the stable a large white tea-kettle, and next morning a drunken, idle
+fellow, with a clay pipe in his mouth, and a dirty pair of corduroy
+trousers, no coat, but a shirt very open at the chest, showing inflamed
+skin, the effect of drink, inspected that work of art with blinking eyes
+and vacillating toes, and said, "This comes of a chap doing too much.
+A few more like you, and work would be scarce. A fine thing for
+gentlefolks to make one man fill two places! but it ain't the
+gentlefolks' fault, it's the man as humors 'em."
+
+Pearman was a peaceable man, and made no reply, but went on with his
+work; only during the day he told his master that he should be obliged
+to him if he would fill his situation as soon as convenient.
+
+The master inquired the cause, and the man told him, and said the mews
+was too hot for him.
+
+The doctor offered him five pounds a year more, knowing he had a
+treasure; but Pearman said, with sadness and firmness, that he had made
+up his mind to go, and go he would.
+
+The doctor's heart fairly sank at the prospect of losing the one
+creature he could depend upon.
+
+Next Sunday evening Clara was out, and fell in with friends, to whom she
+exaggerated her grievance.
+
+Then they worked her up to fury, after the manner of servants' FRIENDS.
+She came home, packed her box, brought it down, and then flounced into
+the room to Doctor and Mrs. Staines, and said, "I shan't sleep another
+night in this house."
+
+Rosa was about to speak, but Dr. Staines forbade her: he said, "You had
+better think twice of that. You are a good servant, though for once
+you have been betrayed into speaking disrespectfully. Why forfeit your
+character, and three weeks' wages?"
+
+"I don't care for my wages. I won't stay in such a house as this."
+
+"Come, you must not be impertinent."
+
+"I don't mean to, sir," said she, lowering her voice suddenly; then,
+raising it as suddenly, "There are my keys, ma'am, and you can search my
+box."
+
+"Mrs. Staines will not search your box; and you will retire at once to
+your own part of the house."
+
+"I'll go farther than that," said she, and soon after the street door
+was slammed; the Bijou shook.
+
+At six o'clock next morning, she came for her box. It had been put away
+for safety. Pearman told her she must wait till the doctor came down.
+She did not wait, but went at eleven A.M. to a police-magistrate, and
+took out a summons against Dr. Staines, for detaining a box containing
+certain articles specified--value under fifteen pounds.
+
+When Dr. Staines heard she had been for her box, but left no address,
+he sent Pearman to hunt for her. He could not find her. She avoided the
+house, but sent a woman for her diurnal love letters. Dr. Staines sent
+the woman back to fetch her. She came, received her box, her letters,
+and the balance of her wages, which was small, for Staines deducted the
+three weeks' wages.
+
+Two days afterwards, to his surprise, the summons was served.
+
+Out of respect for a court of justice, however humble, Dr. Staines
+attended next Monday to meet the summons.
+
+The magistrate was an elderly man, with a face shaped like a hog's, but
+much richer in color, being purple and pimply; so foul a visage Staines
+had rarely seen, even in the lowest class of the community.
+
+Clara swore that her box had been opened, and certain things stolen out
+of it; and that she had been refused the box next morning.
+
+Staines swore that he had never opened the box, and that, if any one
+else had, it was with her consent, for she had left the keys for that
+purpose. He bade the magistrate observe that if a servant went away like
+this, and left no address, she put it out of the master's POWER to send
+her box after her; and he proved he had some trouble to force the box on
+her.
+
+The pig-faced beak showed a manifest leaning towards the servant, but
+there wasn't a leg to stand on; and he did not believe, nor was it
+credible, that anything had been stolen out of her box.
+
+At this moment, Pearman, sent by Rosa, entered the court with an
+old gown of Clara's that had been discovered in the scullery, and a
+scribbling-book of the doctor's, which Clara had appropriated, and
+written amorous verses in, very superior--in number--to those that have
+come down to us from Anacreon.
+
+"Hand me those," said the pig-faced beak.
+
+"What are they, Dr. Staines?"
+
+"I really don't know. I must ask my servant."
+
+"Why, more things of mine that have been detained," said Clara.
+
+"Some things that have been found since she left," said Staines.
+
+"Oh! those that hide know where to find."
+
+"Young woman," said Staines, "do not insult those whose bread you have
+eaten, and who have given you many presents besides your wages. Since
+you are so ready to accuse people of stealing, permit me to say that
+this book is mine, and not yours; and yet, you see, it is sent after you
+because you have written your trash in it."
+
+The purple, pig-faced beak went instantly out of the record, and wasted
+a deal of time reading Clara's poetry, and trying to be witty. He raised
+the question whose book this was. The girl swore that it WAS given her
+by a lady who was now in Rome. Staines swore he bought it of a certain
+stationer, and happening to have his passbook in his pocket, produced an
+entry corresponding with the date of the book.
+
+The pig-faced beak said that the doctor's was an improbable story, and
+that the gown and the book were quite enough to justify the summons.
+Verdict, one guinea costs.
+
+"What, because two things she never demanded have been found and sent
+after her? This is monstrous. I shall appeal to your superiors."
+
+"If you are impertinent I'll fine you five pounds."
+
+"Very well, sir. Now hear me: if this is an honest judgment, I pray God
+I may be dead before the year's out; and, if it isn't, I pray God you
+may be."
+
+Then the pig-faced beak fired up, and threatened to fine him for
+blaspheming.
+
+He deigned no reply, but paid the guinea, and Clara swept out of the
+court, with a train a yard long, and leaning on the arm of a scarlet
+soldier who avenged Dr. Staines with military promptitude.
+
+Christopher went home raging internally, for hitherto he had never seen
+so gross a case of injustice.
+
+One of his humble patients followed him, and said, "I wish I had known,
+sir; you shouldn't have come here to be insulted. Why, no gentleman
+can ever get justice against a servant girl when HE is sitting. It is
+notorious, and that makes these hussies so bold. I've seen that jade
+here with the same story twice afore."
+
+Staines reached home more discomposed than he could have himself
+believed. The reason was that barefaced injustice in a court of justice
+shook his whole faith in man. He opened the street door with his
+latch-key, and found two men standing in the passage. He inquired what
+they wanted.
+
+"Well, sir," said one of them, civilly enough, "we only want our due."
+
+"For what?"
+
+"For goods delivered at this house, sir. Balance of account." And he
+handed him a butcher's bill, L88, 11s. 5 1/2d.
+
+"You must be mistaken; we run no bills here. We pay ready money for
+everything."
+
+"Well, sir," said the butcher, "there have been payments; but the
+balance has always been gaining; and we have been put off so often, we
+determined to see the master. Show you the books, sir, and welcome."
+
+"This instant, if you please." He took the butcher's address, who then
+retired, and the other tradesman, a grocer, told him a similar tale;
+balance, sixty pounds odd.
+
+He went to the butcher's, sick at heart, inspected the books, and saw
+that, right or wrong, they were incontrovertible; that debt had been
+gaining slowly, but surely, almost from the time he confided the
+accounts to his wife. She had kept faith with him about five weeks, no
+more.
+
+The grocer's books told a similar tale.
+
+The debtor put his hand to his heart, and stood a moment. The very
+grocer pitied him, and said, "There's no harry, doctor; a trifle on
+account, if settlement in full not convenient just now. I see you have
+been kept in the dark."
+
+"No, no," said Christopher; "I'll pay every shilling." He gave one gulp,
+and hurried away.
+
+At the fishmonger's, the same story, only for a smaller amount.
+
+A bill of nineteen pounds at the very pastrycook's; a place she had
+promised him, as her physician, never to enter.
+
+At the draper's, thirty-seven pounds odd.
+
+In short, wherever she had dealt, the same system: partial payments, and
+ever-growing debt.
+
+Remembering Madame Cie, he drove in a cab to Regent Street, and asked
+for Mrs. Staines's account.
+
+"Shall I send it, sir?"
+
+"No; I will take it with me."
+
+"Miss Edwards, make out Mrs. Staines's account, if you please."
+
+Miss Edwards was a good while making it out; but it was ready at last.
+He thrust it into his pocket, without daring to look at it there; but
+he went into Verrey's, and asked for a cup of coffee, and perused the
+document.
+
+The principal items were as follows:--
+
+     May 4.   Re-shaping and repairing elegant lace mantle,  1  8
+              Chip bonnet, feather, and flowers .  .  .  .   4  4
+     May 20.  Making and trimming blue silk dress--material
+               part found .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .   19 19
+              Five yards rich blue silk to match.  .  .  .   4  2
+     June 1.  Polonaise and jacket trimmed with lace--
+                material part found .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  17 17
+     June 8.  One black silk dress, handsomely trimmed
+                with jet guipure and lace .  .  .  .  .  .  49 18
+
+A few shreds and fragments of finery, bought at odd times, swelled the
+bill to L99 11s. 6d.--not to terrify the female mind with three figures.
+
+And let no unsophisticated young lady imagine that the trimmings, which
+constituted three-fourths of this bill, were worth anything. The word
+"lace," in Madame Cie's bill, invariably meant machine-made trash,
+worth tenpence a yard, but charged eighteen shillings a yard for one
+pennyworth of work in putting it on. Where real lace was used, Madame
+Cie always LET HER CUSTOMERS KNOW IT. Miss Lucas's bill for this year
+contained the two following little items:--
+
+
+     Rich gros de cecile polonaise and jacket to match,
+       trimmed with Chantilly lace and valenciennes .  .  .  68 5
+     Superb robe de chambre, richly trimmed with skunk fur.  40 0
+
+The customer found the stuff; viz., two shawls. Carolina found the nasty
+little pole-cats, and got twenty-four shillings for them; Madame Cie
+found THE REST.
+
+But Christopher Staines had not Miss Lucas's bill to compare his wife's
+with. He could only compare the latter with their income, and with male
+notions of common sense and reason.
+
+He went home, and into his studio, and sat down on his hard beech chair;
+he looked round on his books and his work, and then, for the first time,
+remembered how long and how patiently he had toiled for every hundred
+pounds he had made; and he laid the evidences of his wife's profusion
+and deceit by the side of those signs of painful industry and
+self-denial, and his soul filled with bitterness. "Deceit! deceit!"
+
+Mrs. Staines heard he was in the house, and came to know about the
+trial. She came hurriedly in, and caught him with his head on the table,
+in an attitude of prostration, quite new to him; he raised his head
+directly he heard her, and revealed a face, pale, stern, and wretched.
+
+"Oh! what is the matter now?" said she.
+
+"The matter is what it has always been, if I could only have seen it.
+You have deceived me, and disgraced yourself. Look at those bills."
+
+"What bills? Oh!"
+
+"You have had an allowance for housekeeping."
+
+"It wasn't enough."
+
+"It was plenty, if you had kept faith with me, and paid ready money. It
+was enough for the first five weeks. I am housekeeper now, and I shall
+allow myself two pounds a week less, and not owe a shilling either."
+
+"Well, all I know is, I couldn't do it: no woman could."
+
+"Then, you should have come to me, and said so; and I would have shown
+you how. Was I in Egypt, or at the North Pole, that you could not find
+me, to treat me like a friend? You have ruined us: these debts will
+sweep away the last shilling of our little capital; but it isn't that,
+oh, no! it is the miserable deceit."
+
+Rosa's eye caught the sum total of Madame Cie's bill, and she turned
+pale. "Oh, what a cheat that woman is!"
+
+But she turned paler when Christopher said, "That is the one honest
+bill; for I gave you leave. It is these that part us: these! these! Look
+at them, false heart! There, go and pack up your things. We can live
+here no longer; we are ruined. I must send you back to your father."
+
+"I thought you would, sooner or later," said Mrs. Staines, panting,
+trembling, but showing a little fight. "He told you I wasn't fit to be a
+poor man's wife."
+
+"An honest man's wife, you mean: that is what you are not fit for. You
+will go home to your father, and I shall go into some humble lodging to
+work for you. I'll contrive to keep you, and find you a hundred a year
+to spend in dress--the only thing your heart can really love. But I
+won't have an enemy here in the disguise of a friend; and I won't have a
+wife about me I must treat like a servant, and watch like a traitor."
+
+The words were harsh, but the agony with which they were spoken
+distinguished them from vulgar vituperation.
+
+They overpowered poor Rosa; she had been ailing a little some time, and
+from remorse and terror, coupled with other causes, nature gave way. Her
+lips turned white, she gasped inarticulately, and, with a little piteous
+moan, tottered, and swooned dead away.
+
+He was walking wildly about, ready to tear his hair, when she tottered;
+he saw her just in time to save her, and laid her gently on the floor,
+and kneeled over her.
+
+Away went anger and every other feeling but love and pity for the poor,
+weak creature that, with all her faults, was so lovable and so loved.
+
+He applied no remedies at first: he knew they were useless and
+unnecessary. He laid her head quite low, and opened door and window, and
+loosened all her dress, sighing deeply all the time at her condition.
+
+While he was thus employed, suddenly a strange cry broke from him: a cry
+of horror, remorse, joy, tenderness, all combined: a cry compared with
+which language is inarticulate. His swift and practical eye had made a
+discovery.
+
+He kneeled over her, with his eyes dilating and his hands clasped, a
+picture of love and tender remorse.
+
+She stirred.
+
+Then he made haste, and applied his remedies, and brought her slowly
+back to life; he lifted her up, and carried her in his arms quite away
+from the bills and things, that, when she came to, she might see nothing
+to revive her distress. He carried her to the drawing-room, and kneeled
+down and rocked her in his arms, and pressed her again and again gently
+to his heart, and cried over her. "O my dove, my dove! the tender
+creature God gave me to love and cherish, and have I used it harshly? If
+I had only known! if I had only known!"
+
+While he was thus bemoaning her, and blaming himself, and crying over
+her like the rain,--he, whom she had never seen shed a tear before in
+all his troubles,--she was coming to entirely, and her quick ears caught
+his words, and she opened her lovely eyes on him.
+
+"I forgive you, dear," she said feebly. "BUT I HOPE YOU WILL BE A KINDER
+FATHER THAN A HUSBAND."
+
+These quiet words, spoken with rare gravity and softness, went through
+the great heart like a knife.
+
+He gave a sort of shiver, but said not a word.
+
+But that night he made a solemn vow to God that no harsh word from his
+lips should ever again strike a being so weak, so loving, and so beyond
+his comprehension. Why look for courage and candor in a creature so
+timid and shy, she could not even tell her husband THAT until, with her
+subtle sense, she saw he had discovered it?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+To be a father; to have an image of his darling Rosa, and a fruit of
+their love to live and work for: this gave the sore heart a heavenly
+glow, and elasticity to bear. Should this dear object be born to an
+inheritance of debt, of poverty? Never.
+
+He began to act as if he was even now a father. He entreated Rosa not to
+trouble or vex herself; he would look into their finances, and set all
+straight.
+
+He paid all the bills, and put by a quarter's rent and taxes. Then there
+remained of his little capital just ten pounds.
+
+He went to his printers, and had a thousand order-checks printed. These
+forms ran thus:--
+
+"Dr. Staines, of 13 Dear Street, Mayfair (blank for date), orders of
+(blank here for tradesman and goods ordered), for cash. Received same
+time (blank for tradesman's receipt). Notice: Dr. Staines disowns all
+orders not printed on this form, and paid for at date of order."
+
+He exhibited these forms, and warned all the tradespeople, before a
+witness whom he took round for that purpose.
+
+He paid off Pearman on the spot. Pearman had met Clara, dressed like a
+pauper, her soldier having emptied her box to the very dregs, and he now
+offered to stay. But it was too late.
+
+Staines told the cook Mrs. Staines was in delicate health, and must not
+be troubled with anything. She must come to him for all orders.
+
+"Yes, sir," said she. But she no sooner comprehended the check system
+fully than she gave warning. It put a stop to her wholesale pilfering.
+Rosa's cooks had made fully a hundred pounds out of her amongst them
+since she began to keep accounts.
+
+Under the male housekeeper every article was weighed on delivery, and
+this soon revealed that the butcher and the fishmonger had habitually
+delivered short weight from the first, besides putting down the same
+thing twice. The things were sent back that moment, with a printed form,
+stating the nature and extent of the fraud.
+
+The washerwoman, who had been pilfering wholesale so long as Mrs.
+Staines and her sloppy-headed maids counted the linen, and then forgot
+it, was brought up with a run, by triplicate forms, and by Staines
+counting the things before two witnesses, and compelling the washerwoman
+to count them as well, and verify or dispute on the spot. The laundress
+gave warning--a plain confession that stealing had been part of her
+trade.
+
+He kept the house well for three pounds a week, exclusive of coals,
+candles, and wine. His wife had had five pounds, and whatever she asked
+for dinner-parties, yet found it not half enough upon her method.
+
+He kept no coachman. If he visited a patient, a man in the yard drove
+him at a shilling per hour.
+
+By these means, and by working like a galley slave, he dragged his
+expenditure down almost to a level with his income.
+
+Rosa was quite content at first, and thought herself lucky to escape
+reproaches on such easy terms.
+
+But by and by so rigorous a system began to gall her. One day she
+fancied a Bath bun; sent the new maid to the pastry-cook's. Pastry-cook
+asked to see the doctor's order. Maid could not show it, and came back
+bunless.
+
+Rosa came into the study to complain to her husband.
+
+"A Bath bun," said Staines. "Why, they are colored with annotto, to
+save an egg, and annotto is adulterated with chromates that are poison.
+Adulteration upon adulteration. I'll make you a real Bath bun." Off
+coat, and into the kitchen, and made her three, pure, but rather heavy.
+He brought them her in due course. She declined them languidly. She was
+off the notion, as they say in Scotland.
+
+"If I can't have a thing when I want it, I don't care for it at all."
+Such was the principle she laid down for his future guidance.
+
+He sighed, and went back to his work; she cleared the plate.
+
+One day, when she asked for the carriage, he told her the time was now
+come for her to leave off carriage exercise. She must walk with him
+every day, instead.
+
+"But I don't like walking."
+
+"I am sorry for that. But it is necessary to you, and by and by your
+life may depend on it."
+
+Quietly, but inexorably, he dragged her out walking every day.
+
+In one of these walks she stopped at a shop window, and fell in love
+with some baby's things. "Oh! I must have that," said she. "I must. I
+shall die if I don't; you'll see now."
+
+"You shall," said he, "when I can pay for it," and drew her away.
+
+The tears of disappointment stood in her eyes, and his heart yearned
+over her. But he kept his head.
+
+He changed the dinner hour to six, and used to go out directly
+afterwards.
+
+She began to complain of his leaving her alone like that.
+
+"Well, but wait a bit," said he; "suppose I am making a little money by
+it, to buy you something you have set your heart on, poor darling!"
+
+In a very few days after this, he brought her a little box with a slit
+in it. He shook it, and money rattled; then he unlocked it, and poured
+out a little pile of silver. "There," said he, "put on your bonnet, and
+come and buy those things."
+
+She put on her bonnet, and on the way she asked how it came to be all in
+silver.
+
+"That is a puzzler," said he, "isn't it?"
+
+"And how did you make it, dear? by writing?"
+
+"No."
+
+"By fees from the poor people?"
+
+"What, undersell my brethren! Hang it, no! My dear, I made it honestly,
+and some day I will tell you how I made it; at present, all I will tell
+you is this: I saw my darling longing for something she had a right to
+long for; I saw the tears in her sweet eyes, and--oh, come along, do. I
+am wretched till I see you with the things in your hand."
+
+They went to the shop; and Staines sat and watched Rosa buying
+baby-clothes. Oh, it was a pretty sight to see this modest young
+creature, little more than a child herself, anticipating maternity, but
+blushing every now and then, and looking askant at her lord and master.
+How his very bowels yearned over her!
+
+And when they got home, she spread the things on a table, and they
+sat hand in hand, and looked at them, and she leaned her head on his
+shoulder, and went quietly to sleep there.
+
+And yet, as time rolled on, she became irritable at times, and
+impatient, and wanted all manner of things she could not have, and made
+him unhappy.
+
+Then he was out from six o'clock till one, and she took it into her head
+to be jealous. So many hours to spend away from her! Now that she wanted
+all his comfort.
+
+Presently, Ellen, the new maid, got gossiping in the yard, and a groom
+told her her master had a sweetheart on the sly, he thought; for he
+drove the brougham out every evening himself; "and," said the man, "he
+wears a mustache at night."
+
+Ellen ran in, brimful of this, and told the cook; the cook told the
+washerwoman; the washerwoman told a dozen families, till about two
+hundred people knew it.
+
+At last it came to Mrs. Staines in a roundabout way, at the very moment
+when she was complaining to Lady Cicely Treherne of her hard lot. She
+had been telling her she was nothing more than a lay-figure in the
+house.
+
+"My husband is housekeeper now, and cook, and all, and makes me
+delicious dishes, I can tell you; SUCH curries! I couldn't keep the
+house with five pounds a week, so now he does it with three: and I never
+get the carriage, because walking is best for me; and he takes it out
+every night to make money. I don't understand it."
+
+Lady Cicely suggested that perhaps Dr. Staines thought it best for her
+to be relieved of all worry, and so undertook the housekeeping.
+
+"No, no, no," said Rosa; "I used to pay them all a part of their bills,
+and then a little more, and so I kept getting deeper; and I was ashamed
+to tell Christie, so that he calls deceit; and oh, he spoke to me so
+cruelly once! But he was very sorry afterwards, poor dear! Why are girls
+brought up so silly? all piano, and no sense; and why are men sillier
+still to go and marry such silly things? A wife! I am not so much as a
+servant. Oh, I am finely humiliated, and," with a sudden hearty naivete
+all her own, "it serves me just right."
+
+While Lady Cicely was puzzling this out, in came a letter. Rosa opened
+it, read it, and gave a cry like a wounded deer.
+
+"Oh!" she cried, "I am a miserable woman. What will become of me?"
+
+The letter informed her bluntly that her husband drove his brougham out
+every night to pursue a criminal amour.
+
+While Rosa was wringing her hands in real anguish of heart, Lady Cicely
+read the letter carefully.
+
+"I don't believe this," said she quietly.
+
+"Not true! Why, who would be so wicked as to stab a poor, inoffensive
+wretch like me, if it wasn't true?"
+
+"The first ugly woman would, in a minute. Don't you see the witer
+can't tell you where he goes? Dwives his bwougham out! That is all your
+infaumant knows."
+
+"Oh, my dear friend, bless you! What have I been complaining to you
+about? All is light, except to lose his love. What shall I do? I will
+never tell him. I will never affront him by saying I suspected him."
+
+"Wosa, if you do that, you will always have a serpent gnawing you. No;
+you must put the letter quietly into his hand, and say, 'Is there any
+truth in that?'"
+
+"Oh, I could not. I haven't the courage. If I do that, I shall know by
+his face if there is any truth in it."
+
+"Well, and you must know the twuth. You shall know it. I want to know
+it too; for if he does not love you twuly, I will nevaa twust myself to
+anything so deceitful as a man."
+
+Rosa at last consented to follow this advice.
+
+After dinner she put the letter into Christopher's hand, and asked him
+quietly was there any truth in that: then her hands trembled, and her
+eyes drank him.
+
+Christopher read it, and frowned; then he looked up, and said, "No, not
+a word. What scoundrels there are in the world! To go and tell you that,
+NOW! Why, you little goose! have you been silly enough to believe it?"
+
+"No," said she irresolutely. "But DO you drive the brougham out every
+night?"
+
+"Except Sunday."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"My dear wife, I never loved you as I love you now; and if it was not
+for you, I should not drive the brougham out of nights. That is all I
+shall tell you at present; but some day I'll tell you all about it."
+
+He took such a calm high hand with her about it, that she submitted to
+leave it there; but from this moment the serpent doubt nibbled her.
+
+It had one curious effect, though. She left off complaining of trifles.
+
+Now it happened one night that Lady Cicely Treherne and a friend were at
+a concert in Hanover Square. The other lady felt rather faint, and Lady
+Cicely offered to take her home. The carriages had not yet arrived,
+and Miss Macnamara said to walk a few steps would do her good: a smart
+cabman saw them from a distance and drove up, and touching his hat said,
+"Cab, ladies?"
+
+It seemed a very superior cab, and Miss Macnamara said "Yes" directly.
+
+The cabman bustled down and opened the door; Miss Macnamara got in
+first, then Lady Cicely; her eye fell on the cabman's face, which was
+lighted full by a street-lamp, and it was Christopher Staines!
+
+He started and winced; but the woman of the world never moved a muscle.
+
+"Where to?" said Staines, averting his head.
+
+She told him where, and when they got out, said, "I'll send it you by
+the servant."
+
+A flunkey soon after appeared with half-a-crown, and the amateur
+coachman drove away. He said to himself, "Come, my mustache is a better
+disguise than I thought."
+
+Next day, and the day after, he asked Rosa, with affected carelessness,
+had she heard anything of Lady Cicely.
+
+"No, dear; but I dare say she will call this afternoon: it is her day."
+
+She did call at last, and after a few words with Rosa, became a little
+restless, and asked if she might consult Dr. Staines.
+
+"Certainly, dear. Come to his studio."
+
+"No; might I see him here?"
+
+"Certainly." She rang the bell, and told the servant to ask Dr. Staines
+if he would be kind enough to step into the drawing-room.
+
+Dr. Staines came in, and bowed to Lady Cicely, and eyed her a little
+uncomfortably.
+
+She began, however, in a way that put him quite at his ease. "You
+remember the advice you gave us about my little cousin Tadcastah."
+
+"Perfectly: his life is very precarious; he is bilious, consumptive,
+and, if not watched, will be epileptical; and he has a fond, weak
+mother, who will let him kill himself."
+
+"Exactly: and you wecommended a sea voyage, with a medical attendant to
+watch his diet, and contwol his habits. Well, she took other advice, and
+the youth is worse; so now she is fwightened, and a month ago she asked
+me to pwopose to you to sail about with Tadcastah; and she offered me
+a thousand pounds a year. I put on my stiff look, and said, 'Countess,
+with every desiah to oblige you, I must decline to cawwy that offah to a
+man of genius, learning, and weputation, who has the ball at his feet in
+London.'"
+
+"Lord forgive you, Lady Cicely."
+
+"Lord bless her for standing up for my Christie."
+
+Lady Cicely continued: "Now, this good lady, you must know, is not
+exactly one of us: the late earl mawwied into cotton, or wool, or
+something. So she said, 'Name your price for him.' I shwugged my
+shoulders, smiled affably, and as affectedly as you like, and changed
+the subject. But since then things have happened. I am afwaid it is my
+duty to make you the judge whether you choose to sail about with that
+little cub--Rosa, I can beat about the bush no longer. Is it a fit thing
+that a man of genius, at whose feet we ought all to be sitting with
+reverence, should drive a cab in the public streets? Yes, Rosa Staines,
+your husband drives his brougham out at night, not to visit any other
+lady, as that anonymous wretch told you, but to make a few misewable
+shillings for you."
+
+"Oh, Christie!"
+
+"It is no use, Dr. Staines; I must and will tell her. My dear, he drove
+ME three nights ago. He had a cabman's badge on his poor arm. If you
+knew what I suffered in those five minutes! Indeed it seems cruel to
+speak of it--but I could not keep it from Rosa, and the reason I muster
+courage to say it before you, sir, it is because I know she has other
+friends who keep you out of their consultations; and, after all, it is
+the world that ought to blush, and not you."
+
+Her ladyship's kindly bosom heaved, and she wanted to cry; so she took
+her handkerchief out of her pocket without the least hurry, and
+pressed it delicately to her eyes, and did cry quietly, but without any
+disguise, like a brave lady, who neither cried nor did anything else she
+was ashamed to be seen at.
+
+As for Rosa, she sat sobbing round Christopher's neck, and kissed him
+with all her soul.
+
+"Dear me!" said Christopher. "You are both very kind. But, begging your
+pardon, it is much ado about nothing."
+
+Lady Cicely took no notice of that observation. "So, Rosa dear," said
+she, "I think you are the person to decide whether he had not better
+sail about with that little cub, than--oh!"
+
+"I will settle that," said Staines. "I have one beloved creature to
+provide for. I may have another. I MUST make money. Turning a brougham
+into a cab, whatever you may think, is an honest way of making it, and
+I am not the first doctor who has coined his brougham at night. But if
+there is a good deal of money to be made by sailing with Lord Tadcaster,
+of course I should prefer that to cab-driving, for I have never made
+above twelve shillings a night."
+
+"Oh, as to that, she shall give you fifteen hundred a year."
+
+"Then I jump at it."
+
+"What! and leave ME?"
+
+"Yes, love: leave you--for your good; and only for a time. Lady Cicely,
+it is a noble offer. My darling Rosa will have every comfort--ay, every
+luxury, till I come home, and then we will start afresh with a good
+balance, and with more experience than we did at first."
+
+Lady Cicely gazed on him with wonder. She said, "Oh! what stout hearts
+men have! No, no; don't let him go. See; he is acting. His great heart
+is torn with agony. I will have no hand in parting man and wife--no, not
+for a day." And she hurried away in rare agitation.
+
+Rosa fell on her knees, and asked Christopher's pardon for having been
+jealous; and that day she was a flood of divine tenderness. She repaid
+him richly for driving the cab. But she was unnaturally cool about Lady
+Cicely; and the exquisite reason soon came out. "Oh yes! She is very
+good; very kind; but it is not for me now! No! you shall not sail about
+with her cub of a cousin, and leave me at such a time."
+
+Christopher groaned.
+
+"Christie, you shall not see that lady again. She came here to part us.
+SHE IS IN LOVE WITH YOU. I was blind not to see it before."
+
+Next day, as Lady Cicely sat alone in the morning-room thinking over
+this very scene, a footman brought in a card and a note. "Dr. Staines
+begs particularly to see Lady Cicely Treherne."
+
+The lady's pale cheek colored; she stood irresolute a single moment. "I
+will see Dr. Staines," said she.
+
+Dr. Staines came in, looking pale and worn; he had not slept a wink
+since she saw him last.
+
+She looked at him full, and divined this at a glance. She motioned
+him to a seat, and sat down herself, with her white hand pressing her
+forehead, and her head turned a little away from him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+He told her he had come to thank her for her great kindness, and to
+accept the offer.
+
+She sighed. "I hoped it was to decline it. Think of the misery of
+separation, both to you and her."
+
+"It will be misery. But we are not happy as it is, and she cannot bear
+poverty. Nor is it fair she should, when I can give her every comfort by
+just playing the man for a year or two." He then told Lady Cicely there
+were more reasons than he chose to mention: go he must, and would; and
+he implored her not to let the affair drop. In short, he was sad but
+resolved, and she found she must go on with it, or break faith with him.
+She took her desk, and wrote a letter concluding the bargain for him.
+She stipulated for half the year's fee in advance. She read Dr. Staines
+the letter.
+
+"You ARE a friend!" said he. "I should never have ventured on that; it
+will be a godsend to my poor Rosa. You will be kind to her when I am
+gone?"
+
+"I will."
+
+"So will Uncle Philip, I think. I will see him before I go, and shake
+hands. He has been a good friend to me; but he was too hard upon HER;
+and I could not stand that."
+
+Then he thanked and blessed her again, with the tears in his eyes, and
+left her more disturbed and tearful than she had ever been since she
+grew to woman. "O cruel poverty!" she thought, "that such a man should
+be torn from his home, and thank me for doing it--all for a little
+money--and here are we poor commonplace creatures rolling in it."
+
+Staines hurried home, and told his wife. She clung to him convulsively,
+and wept bitterly; but she made no direct attempt to shake his
+resolution; she saw, by his iron look, that she could only afflict, not
+turn him.
+
+Next day came Lady Cicely to see her. Lady Cicely was very uneasy in her
+mind, and wanted to know whether Rosa was reconciled to the separation.
+
+Rosa received her with a forced politeness and an icy coldness that
+petrified her. She could not stay long in face of such a reception. At
+parting, she said, sadly, "You look on me as an enemy."
+
+"What else can you expect, when you part my husband and me?" said Rosa,
+with quiet sternness.
+
+"I meant well," said Lady Cicely sorrowfully; "but I wish I had never
+interfered."
+
+"So do I," and she began to cry.
+
+Lady Cicely made no answer. She went quietly away, hanging her head
+sadly.
+
+Rosa was unjust, but she was not rude nor vulgar; and Lady Cicely's
+temper was so well governed that it never blinded her heart. She
+withdrew, but without the least idea of quarrelling with her afflicted
+friend, or abandoning her. She went quietly home, and wrote to Lady
+----, to say that she should be glad to receive Dr. Staines's advance
+as soon as convenient, since Mrs. Staines would have to make fresh
+arrangements, and the money might be useful.
+
+The money was forthcoming directly. Lady Cicely brought it to Dear
+Street, and handed it to Dr. Staines. His eyes sparkled at the sight of
+it.
+
+"Give my love to Rosa," said she softly, and cut her visit very short.
+
+Staines took the money to Rosa, and said, "See what our best friend has
+brought us. You shall have four hundred, and I hope, after the bitter
+lessons you have had, you will be able to do with that for some months.
+The two hundred I shall keep as a reserve fund for you to draw on."
+
+"No, no!" said Rosa. "I shall go and live with my father, and never
+spend a penny. O Christie, if you knew how I hate myself for the folly
+that is parting us! Oh, why don't they teach girls sense and money,
+instead of music and the globes?"
+
+But Christopher opened a banking account for her, and gave her a
+check-book, and entreated her to pay everything by check, and run no
+bills whatever; and she promised. He also advertised the Bijou, and put
+a bill in the window: "The lease of this house, and the furniture, to be
+sold."
+
+Rosa cried bitterly at sight of it, thinking how high in hope they were,
+when they had their first dinner there, and also when she went to her
+first sale to buy the furniture cheap.
+
+And now everything moved with terrible rapidity. The Amphitrite was to
+sail from Plymouth in five days; and, meantime, there was so much to be
+done, that the days seemed to gallop away.
+
+Dr. Staines forgot nothing. He made his will in duplicate, leaving all
+to his wife; he left one copy at Doctors' Commons and another with his
+lawyer; inventoried all his furniture and effects in duplicate, too;
+wrote to Uncle Philip, and then called on him to seek a reconciliation.
+Unfortunately, Dr. Philip was in Scotland. At last this sad pair went
+down to Plymouth together, there to meet Lord Tadcaster and go on board
+H.M.S. Amphitrite, lying out at anchor, under orders for the Australian
+Station.
+
+They met at the inn, as appointed; and sent word of their arrival on
+board the frigate, asking to remain on shore till the last minute.
+
+Dr. Staines presented his patient to Rosa; and after a little while drew
+him apart and questioned him professionally. He then asked for a private
+room. Here he and Rosa really took leave; for what could the poor things
+say to each other on a crowded quay? He begged her forgiveness, on his
+knees, for having once spoken harshly to her, and she told him, with
+passionate sobs, he had never spoken harshly to her; her folly it was
+had parted them.
+
+Poor wretches! they clung together with a thousand vows of love and
+constancy. They were to pray for each other at the same hours: to think
+of some kind word or loving act, at other stated hours; and so they
+tried to fight with their suffering minds against the cruel separation;
+and if either should die, the other was to live wedded to memory, and
+never listen to love from other lips; but no! God was pitiful; He would
+let them meet again ere long, to part no more. They rocked in each
+other's arms; they cried over each other--it was pitiful.
+
+At last the cruel summons came; they shuddered, as if it was their
+death-blow. Christopher, with a face of agony, was yet himself, and
+would have parted then: and so best. But Rosa could not. She would see
+the last of him, and became almost wild and violent when he opposed it.
+
+Then he let her come with him to Milbay Steps; but into the boat he
+would not let her step.
+
+The ship's boat lay at the steps, manned by six sailors, all seated,
+with their oars tossed in two vertical rows. A smart middy in charge
+conducted them, and Dr. Staines and Lord Tadcaster got in, leaving Rosa,
+in charge of her maid, on the quay.
+
+"Shove off"--"Down"--"Give way."
+
+Each order was executed so swiftly and surely that, in as many seconds,
+the boat was clear, the oars struck the water with a loud splash, and
+the husband was shot away like an arrow, and the wife's despairing cry
+rang on the stony quay, as many a poor woman's cry had rung before.
+
+In half a minute the boat shot under the stern of the frigate.
+
+They were received on the quarter-deck by Captain Hamilton: he
+introduced them to the officers--a torture to poor Staines, to have his
+mind taken for a single instant from his wife--the first lieutenant came
+aft, and reported, "Ready for making sail, sir."
+
+Staines seized the excuse, rushed to the other side of the vessel,
+leaned over the taffrail, as if he would fly ashore, and stretched out
+his hands to his beloved Rosa; and she stretched out her hands to him.
+They were so near, he could read the expression of her face. It was wild
+and troubled, as one who did not yet realize the terrible situation, but
+would not be long first.
+
+"HANDS MAKE SAIL--AWAY, ALOFT--UP ANCHOR"--rang in Christopher's ear, as
+if in a dream. All his soul and senses were bent on that desolate young
+creature. How young and amazed her lovely face! Yet this bewildered
+child was about to become a mother. Even a stranger's heart might have
+yearned with pity for her: how much more her miserable husband's!
+
+The capstan was manned, and worked to a merry tune that struck chill to
+the bereaved; yards were braced for casting, anchor hove, catted, and
+fished, sail was spread with amazing swiftness, the ship's head dipped,
+and slowly and gracefully paid off towards the breakwater, and she stood
+out to sea under swiftly-swelling canvas and a light north-westerly
+breeze.
+
+Staines only felt the motion: his body was in the ship, his soul with
+his Rosa. He gazed, he strained his eyes to see her eyes, as the ship
+glided from England and her. While he was thus gazing and trembling all
+over, up came to him a smart second lieutenant, with a brilliant voice
+that struck him like a sword. "Captain's orders to show you berths;
+please choose for Lord Tadcaster and yourself."
+
+The man's wild answer made the young officer stare. "Oh, sir! not
+now--try and do my duty when I have quite lost her--my poor wife--a
+child--a mother--there--sir--on the steps--there!--there!"
+
+Now this officer always went to sea singing "Oh be joyful." But a strong
+man's agony, who can make light of it? It was a revelation to him; but
+he took it quickly. The first thing he did, being a man of action, was
+to dash into his cabin, and come back with a short, powerful double
+glass. "There!" said he roughly, but kindly, and shoved it into
+Staines's hand. He took it, stared at it stupidly, then used it, without
+a word of thanks, so wrapped was he in his anguish.
+
+This glass prolonged the misery of that bitter hour. When Rosa could no
+longer tell her husband from another, she felt he was really gone, and
+she threw her hands aloft, and clasped them above her head, with the
+wild abandon of a woman who could never again be a child; and Staines
+saw it, and a sharp sigh burst from him, and he saw her maid and others
+gather round her. He saw the poor young thing led away, with her head
+all down, as he had never seen her before, and supported to the inn; and
+then he saw her no more.
+
+His heart seemed to go out of his bosom in search of her, and leave
+nothing but a stone behind: he hung over the taffrail like a dead thing.
+A steady foot-fall slapped his ear. He raised his white face and filmy
+eyes, and saw Lieutenant Fitzroy marching to and fro like a sentinel,
+keeping everybody away from the mourner, with the steady, resolute,
+business-like face of a man in whom sentiment is confined to action; its
+phrases and its flourishes being literally terra incognita to the honest
+fellow.
+
+Staines staggered towards him, holding out both hands, and gasped out,
+"God bless you. Hide me somewhere--must not be seen SO--got duty to
+do--Patient--can't do it yet--one hour to draw my breath--oh, my God, my
+God!--one hour, sir. Then do my duty, if I die--as you would."
+
+Fitzroy tore him down into his own cabin, shut him in and ran to the
+first lieutenant, with a tear in his eye. "Can I have a sentry, sir?"
+
+"Sentry! What for?"
+
+"The doctor--awfully cut up at leaving his wife: got him in my cabin.
+Wants to have his cry to himself."
+
+"Fancy a fellow crying at going to sea!"
+
+"It is not that, sir; it is leaving his wife."
+
+"Well, is he the only man on board that has got a wife?"
+
+"Why, no, sir. It is odd, now I think of it. Perhaps he has only got
+that ONE."
+
+"Curious creatures, landsmen," said the first lieutenant. "However, you
+can stick a marine there."
+
+"And I say, show the YOUNGSTER the berths, and let him choose, as the
+doctor's aground."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+So Fitzoy planted his marine, and then went after Lord Tadcaster: he had
+drawn up alongside his cousin, Captain Hamilton. The captain, being an
+admirer of Lady Cicely, was mighty civil to his little lordship, and
+talked to him more than was his wont on the quarterdeck; for though
+he had a good flow of conversation, and dispensed with ceremony in his
+cabin, he was apt to be rather short on deck. However, he told little
+Tadcaster he was fortunate; they had a good start, and, if the wind
+held, might hope to be clear of the Channel in twenty-four hours. "You
+will see Eddystone lighthouse about four bells," said he.
+
+"Shall we go out of sight of land altogether?" inquired his lordship.
+
+"Of course we shall, and the sooner the better." He then explained to
+the novice that the only danger to a good ship was from the land.
+
+While Tadcaster was digesting this paradox, Captain Hamilton proceeded
+to descant on the beauties of blue water and its fine medicinal
+qualities, which, he said, were particularly suited to young gentlemen
+with bilious stomachs, but presently, catching sight of Lieutenant
+Fitzroy standing apart, but with the manner of a lieutenant not there by
+accident, he stopped, and said, civilly but smartly, "Well, sir?"
+
+Fitzroy came forward directly, saluted, and said he had orders from the
+first lieutenant to show Lord Tadcaster the berths. His lordship must be
+good enough to choose, because the doctor--couldn't.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Brought to, sir--for the present--by--well, by grief."
+
+"Brought to by grief! Who the deuce is grief? No riddles on the
+quarter-deck, if you please, sir."
+
+"Oh no, sir. I assure you he is awfully cut up; and he is having his cry
+out in my cabin."
+
+"Having his cry out! why, what for?"
+
+"Leaving his wife, sir."
+
+"Oh, is that all?"
+
+"Well, I don't wonder," cried little Tadcaster warmly. "She is, oh,
+so beautiful!" and a sudden blush o'erspread his pasty cheeks. "Why on
+earth didn't we bring her along with us here?" said he, suddenly opening
+his eyes with astonishment at the childish omission.
+
+"Why, indeed?" said the captain comically, and dived below, attended by
+the well-disciplined laughter of Lieutenant Fitzroy, who was too good
+an officer not to be amused at his captain's jokes. Having acquitted
+himself of that duty--and it is a very difficult one sometimes--he
+took Lord Tadcaster to the main-deck, and showed him two comfortable
+sleeping-berths that had been screened off for him and Dr. Staines; one
+of these was fitted with a standing bed-place, the other had a cot
+swung in it. Fitzroy offered him the choice, but hinted that he himself
+preferred a cot.
+
+"No, thank you," says my lord mighty dryly.
+
+"All right," said Fitzroy cheerfully. "Take the other, then, my lord."
+
+His little lordship cocked his eye like a jackdaw, and looked almost as
+cunning. "You see," said he, "I have been reading up for this voyage."
+
+"Oh, indeed! Logarithms?"
+
+"Of course not."
+
+"What then?"
+
+"Why, 'Peter Simple'--to be sure."
+
+"Ah, ha!" said Fitzroy, with a chuckle that showed plainly he had some
+delicious reminiscences of youthful study in the same quarter.
+
+The little lord chuckled too, and put one finger on Fitzroy's shoulder,
+and pointed at the cot with another. "Tumble out the other side, you
+know--slippery hitches--cords cut--down you come flop in the middle of
+the night."
+
+Fitzroy's eye flashed merriment: but only for a moment. His countenance
+fell the next. "Lord bless you," said he sorrowfully, "all that game
+is over now. Her Majesty's ship!--it is a church afloat. The service is
+going to the devil, as the old fogies say."
+
+"Ain't you sorry?" says the little lord, cocking his eye again like the
+bird hereinbefore mentioned.
+
+"Of course I am."
+
+"Then I'll take the standing bed."
+
+"All right. I say, you don't mind the doctor coming down with a run,
+eh?"
+
+"He is not ill: I am. He is paid to take care of me: I am not paid to
+take care of him," said the young lord sententiously.
+
+"I understand," replied Fitzroy, dryly. "Well, every one for himself,
+and Providence for us all--as the elephant said when he danced among the
+chickens."
+
+Here my lord was summoned to dine with the captain. Staines was not
+there; but he had not forgotten his duty; in the midst of his grief he
+had written a note to the captain, hoping that a bereaved husband might
+not seem to desert his post if he hid for a few hours the sorrow he
+felt himself unable to control. Meantime he would be grateful if Captain
+Hamilton would give orders that Lord Tadcaster should eat no pastry, and
+drink only six ounces of claret, otherwise he should feel that he was
+indeed betraying his trust.
+
+The captain was pleased and touched with this letter. It recalled to him
+how his mother sobbed when she launched her little middy, swelling with
+his first cocked hat and dirk.
+
+There was champagne at dinner, and little Tadcaster began to pour out a
+tumbler. "Hold on!" said Captain Hamilton; "you are not to drink that;"
+and he quietly removed the tumbler. "Bring him six ounces of claret."
+
+While they were weighing the claret with scientific precision, Tadcaster
+remonstrated; and, being told it was the doctor's order, he squeaked
+out, "Confound him! why did not he stay with his wife? She is
+beautiful." Nor did he give it up without a struggle. "Here's
+hospitality!" said he. "Six ounces!"
+
+Receiving no reply, he inquired of the third lieutenant, which was
+generally considered the greatest authority in a ship--the captain, or
+the doctor.
+
+The third lieutenant answered not, but turned his head away, and, by
+violent exertion, succeeded in not splitting.
+
+"I'll answer that," said Hamilton politely. "The captain is the highest
+in his department, and the doctor in his: now Doctor Staines is strictly
+within his department, and will be supported by me and my officers. You
+are bilious, and epileptical, and all the rest of it, and you are to be
+cured by diet and blue water."
+
+Tadcaster was inclined to snivel: however, he subdued that weakness with
+a visible effort, and, in due course, returned to the charge. "How would
+you look," quavered he, "if there was to be a mutiny in this ship of
+yours, and I was to head it?'
+
+"Well, I should look SHARP--hang all the ringleaders at the yardarm,
+clap the rest under hatches, and steer for the nearest prison."
+
+"Oh!" said Tadcaster, and digested this scheme a bit. At last he perked
+up again, and made his final hit. "Well, I shouldn't care, for one, if
+you didn't flog us."
+
+"In that case," said Captain Hamilton, "I'd flog you--and stop your six
+ounces."
+
+"Then curse the sea; that is all I say."
+
+"Why, you have not seen it; you have only seen the British Channel." It
+was Mr. Fitzroy who contributed this last observation.
+
+After dinner all but the captain went on deck, and saw the Eddystone
+lighthouse ahead and to leeward. They passed it. Fitzroy told his
+lordship its story, and that of its unfortunate predecessors. Soon after
+this Lord Tadcaster turned in.
+
+Presently the captain observed a change in the thermometer, which
+brought him on deck. He scanned the water and the sky, and as these
+experienced commanders have a subtle insight into the weather,
+especially in familiar latitudes, he remarked to the first lieutenant
+that it looked rather unsettled; and, as a matter of prudence, ordered
+a reef in the topsails, and the royal yards to be sent down: ship to be
+steered W. by S. This done, he turned in, but told them to call him if
+there was any change in the weather.
+
+During the night the wind gradually headed; and at four bells in the
+middle watch a heavy squall came up from the south-west.
+
+This brought the captain on deck again: he found the officer of the
+watch at his post, and at work. Sail was shortened, and the ship made
+snug for heavy weather.
+
+At four A.M. it was blowing hard, and, being too near the French coast,
+they wore the ship.
+
+Now, this operation was bad for little Tadcaster. While the vessel was
+on the starboard tack, the side kept him snug; but, when they wore her,
+of course he had no leeboard to keep him in. The ship gave a lee-lurch,
+and shot him clean out of his bunk into the middle of the cabin.
+
+He shrieked and shrieked, with terror and pain, till the captain and
+Staines, who were his nearest neighbors, came to him, and they gave him
+a little brandy, and got him to bed again. Here he suffered nothing but
+violent seasickness for some hours. As for Staines, he had been swinging
+heavily in his cot; but such was his mental distress that he would have
+welcomed seasickness, or any reasonable bodily suffering. He was in that
+state when the sting of a wasp is a touch of comfort.
+
+Worn out with sickness, Tadcaster would not move. Invited to breakfast,
+he swore faintly, and insisted on dying in peace. At last exhaustion
+gave him a sort of sleep, in spite of the motion, which was violent, for
+it was now blowing great guns, a heavy sea on, and the great waves dirty
+in color and crested with raging foam.
+
+They had to wear ship again, always a ticklish manoeuvre in weather like
+this.
+
+A tremendous sea struck her quarter, stove in the very port abreast of
+which the little lord was lying, and washed him clean out of bed into
+the lee scuppers, and set all swimming around him.
+
+Didn't he yell, and wash about the cabin, and grab at all the chairs
+and tables and things that drifted about, nimble as eels, avoiding his
+grasp!
+
+In rushed the captain, and in staggered Staines. They stopped his
+"voyage autour de sa chambre," and dragged him into the after saloon.
+
+He clung to them by turns, and begged, with many tears, to be put on the
+nearest land; a rock would do.
+
+"Much obliged," said the captain; "now is the very time to give rocks a
+wide berth."
+
+"A dead whale, then--a lighthouse--anything but a beast of a ship."
+
+They pacified him with a little brandy, and for the next twenty-four
+hours he scarcely opened his mouth, except for a purpose it is
+needless to dwell on. We can trust to our terrestrial readers' personal
+reminiscences of lee-lurches, weather-rolls, and their faithful
+concomitant.
+
+At last they wriggled out of the Channel, and soon after that the wind
+abated, and next day veered round to the northward, and the ship sailed
+almost on an even keel. The motion became as heavenly as it had been
+diabolical, and the passengers came on deck.
+
+Staines had suffered one whole day from sea-sickness, but never
+complained. I believe it did his mind more good than harm.
+
+As for Tadcaster, he continued to suffer, at intervals, for two days
+more, but on the fifth day out he appeared with a little pink tinge
+on his cheek and a wolfish appetite. Dr. Staines controlled his diet
+severely, as to quality, and, when they had been at sea just eleven
+days, the physician's heavy heart was not a little lightened by the
+marvellous change in him. The unthinking, who believe in the drug
+system, should have seen what a physician can do with air and food,
+when circumstances enable him to ENFORCE the diet he enjoins. Money will
+sometimes buy even health, if you AVOID DRUGS ENTIRELY, and go another
+road.
+
+Little Tadcaster went on board, pasty, dim-eyed, and very subject to
+fits, because his stomach was constantly overloaded with indigestible
+trash, and the blood in his brain-vessels was always either galloping or
+creeping, under the first or second effect of stimulants administered,
+at first, by thoughtless physicians. Behold him now--bronzed, pinky,
+bright-eyed, elastic; and only one fit in twelve days.
+
+The quarter-deck was hailed from the "look-out" with a cry that is
+sometimes terrible, but in this latitude and weather welcome and
+exciting. "Land, ho!"
+
+"Where away?" cried the officer of the watch.
+
+"A point on the lee-bow, sir."
+
+It was the island of Madeira: they dropped anchor in Funchal Roads,
+furled sails, squared yards, and fired a salute of twenty-one guns for
+the Portuguese flag.
+
+They went ashore, and found a good hotel, and were no longer dosed, as
+in former days, with oil, onions, garlic, eggs. But the wine queer, and
+no madeira to be got.
+
+Staines wrote home to his wife: he told her how deeply he had felt the
+bereavement; but did not dwell on that; his object being to cheer her.
+He told her it promised to be a rapid and wonderful cure, and one that
+might very well give him a fresh start in London. They need not be
+parted a whole year, he thought. He sent her a very long letter, and
+also such extracts from his sea journal as he thought might please her.
+After dinner they inspected the town, and what struck them most was to
+find the streets paved with flag-stones, and most of the carts drawn by
+bullocks on sledges. A man every now and then would run forward and drop
+a greasy cloth in front of the sledge, to lubricate the way.
+
+Next day, after breakfast, they ordered horses; these on inspection,
+proved to be of excellent breed, either from Australia or America--very
+rough shod, for the stony roads. Started for the Grand Canal--peeped
+down that mighty chasm, which has the appearance of an immense mass
+having been blown out of the centre of the mountain.
+
+They lunched under the great dragon tree near its brink, then rode back
+admiring the bold mountain scenery. Next morning at dawn, rode on horses
+up the hill to the convent. Admired the beautiful gardens on the way.
+Remained a short time; then came down in hand-sleighs--little baskets
+slung on sledges, guided by two natives; these sledges run down the
+hill with surprising rapidity, and the men guide them round corners by
+sticking out a foot to port or starboard.
+
+Embarked at 11.30 A.M.
+
+At 1.30, the men having dined, the ship was got under way for the Cape
+of Good Hope, and all sail made for a southerly course, to get into the
+north-east trades.
+
+The weather was now balmy and delightful, and so genial that everybody
+lived on deck, and could hardly be got to turn in to their cabins, even
+for sleep.
+
+Dr. Staines became a favorite with the officers. There is a great deal
+of science on board a modern ship of war, and, of course, on some points
+Staines, a Cambridge wrangler, and a man of many sciences and books, was
+an oracle. On others he was quite behind, but a ready and quick pupil.
+He made up to the navigating officer, and learned, with his help, to
+take observations. In return he was always at any youngster's service
+in a trigonometrical problem; and he amused the midshipmen and young
+lieutenants with analytical tests; some of these were applicable to
+certain liquids dispensed by the paymaster. Under one of them the
+port wine assumed some very droll colors and appearances not proper to
+grape-juice.
+
+One lovely night that the ship clove the dark sea into a blaze of
+phosphorescence, and her wake streamed like a comet's tail, a waggish
+middy got a bucketful hoisted on deck, and asked the doctor to analyze
+that. He did not much like it, but yielded to the general request; and
+by dividing it into smaller vessels, and dropping in various chemicals,
+made rainbows and silvery flames and what not. But he declined to repeat
+the experiment: "No, no; once is philosophy; twice is cruelty. I've
+slain more than Samson already."
+
+As for Tadcaster, science had no charms for him; but fiction had; and
+he got it galore; for he cruised about the forecastle, and there the
+quartermasters and old seamen spun him yarns that held him breathless.
+
+But one day my lord had a fit on the quarter-deck, and a bad one; and
+Staines found him smelling strong of rum. He represented this to Captain
+Hamilton. The captain caused strict inquiries to be made, and it came
+out that my lord had gone among the men, with money in both pockets, and
+bought a little of one man's grog, and a little of another, and had been
+sipping the furtive but transient joys of solitary intoxication.
+
+Captain Hamilton talked to him seriously; told him it was suicide.
+
+"Never mind, old boy," said the young monkey; "a short life and a merry
+one."
+
+Then Hamilton represented that it was very ungentleman-like to go and
+tempt poor Jack with his money, to offend discipline, and get flogged.
+"How will you feel, Tadcaster, when you see their backs bleeding under
+the cat?"
+
+"Oh, d--n it all, George, don't do that," says the young gentleman, all
+in a hurry.
+
+Then the commander saw he had touched the right chord. So he played on
+it, till he got Lord Tadcaster to pledge his honor not to do it again.
+
+The little fellow gave the pledge, but relieved his mind as follows:
+"But it is a cursed tyrannical hole, this tiresome old ship. You can't
+do what you like in it."
+
+"Well, but no more you can in the grave: and that is the agreeable
+residence you were hurrying to but for this tiresome old ship."
+
+"Lord! no more you can," said Tadcaster, with sudden candor. "I FORGOT
+THAT."
+
+The airs were very light; the ship hardly moved. It was beginning to get
+dull, when one day a sail was sighted on the weather-bow, standing to
+the eastward: on nearing her, she was seen, by the cut of her sails, to
+be a man-of-war, evidently homeward bound: so Captain Hamilton ordered
+the main-royal to be lowered (to render signal more visible) and the
+"demand" hoisted. No notice being taken of this, a gun was fired to draw
+her attention to the signal. This had the desired effect; down went her
+main-royal, up went her "number." On referring to the signal book, she
+proved to be the Vindictive from the Pacific Station.
+
+This being ascertained, Captain Hamilton, being that captain's senior,
+signalled "Close and prepare to receive letters." In obedience to this
+she bore up, ran down, and rounded to; the sail in the Amphitrite was
+also shortened, the maintopsail laid to the mast, and a boat lowered.
+The captain having finished his despatches, they, with the letter-bags,
+were handed into the boat, which shoved off, pulled to the lee side
+of the Vindictive, and left the despatches, with Captain Hamilton's
+compliments. On its return, both ships made sail on their respective
+course, exchanging "bon voyage" by signal, and soon the upper sails of
+the homeward-bounder were seen dipping below the horizon: longing eyes
+followed her on board the Amphitrite.
+
+How many hurried missives had been written and despatched in that
+half-hour. But as for Staines, he was a man of forethought, and had a
+volume ready for his dear wife.
+
+Lord Tadcaster wrote to Lady Cicely Treherne. His epistle, though brief,
+contained a plum or two.
+
+He wrote: "What with sailing, and fishing, and eating nothing but roast
+meat, I'm quite another man."
+
+This amused her ladyship a little, but not so much as the postscript,
+which was indeed the neatest thing in its way she had met with, and she
+had some experience, too.
+
+"P.S.--I say, Cicely, I think I should like to marry you. Would you
+mind?"
+
+Let us defy time and space to give you Lady Cicely's reply: "I should
+enjoy it of all things, Taddy. But, alas! I am too young."
+
+N.B.--She was twenty-seven, and Tad sixteen. To be sure, Tad was four
+feet eleven, and she was only five feet six and a half.
+
+To return to my narrative (with apologies), this meeting of the vessels
+caused a very agreeable excitement that day; but a greater was in store.
+In the afternoon, Tadcaster, Staines, and the principal officers of the
+ship, being at dinner in the captain's cabin, in came the officer of the
+watch, and reported a large spar on the weather-bow.
+
+"Well, close it, if you can; and let me know if it looks worth picking
+up."
+
+He then explained to Lord Tadcaster that, on a cruise, he never liked
+to pass a spar, or anything that might possibly reveal the fate of some
+vessel or other.
+
+In the middle of his discourse the officer came in again, but not in
+the same cool business way: he ran in excitedly, and said, "Captain, the
+signalman reports it ALIVE!"
+
+"Alive?--a spar! What do you mean? Something alive ON it, eh?"
+
+"No, sir; alive itself."
+
+"How can that be? Hail him again. Ask him what it is."
+
+The officer went out, and hailed the signalman at the mast-head. "What
+is it?"
+
+"Sea-sarpint, I think."
+
+This hail reached the captain's ears faintly. However, he waited quietly
+till the officer came in and reported it; then he burst out, "Absurd!
+there is no such creature in the universe. What do you say, Dr.
+Staines?--It is in your department."
+
+"The universe in my department, captain?"
+
+"Haw! haw! haw!" went Fitzroy and two more.
+
+"No, you rogue, the serpent."
+
+Dr. Staines, thus appealed to, asked the captain if he had ever seen
+small snakes out at sea.
+
+"Why, of course. Sailed through a mile of them once, in the
+archipelago."
+
+"Sure they were snakes?"
+
+"Quite sure; and the biggest was not eight feet long."
+
+"Very well, captain; then sea-serpents exist, and it becomes a mere
+question of size. Now which produces the larger animals in every
+kind,--land or sea? The grown elephant weighs, I believe, about five
+tons. The very smallest of the whale tribe weighs ten; and they go as
+high as forty tons. There are smaller fish than the whale, that are four
+times as heavy as the elephant. Why doubt, then, that the sea can breed
+a snake to eclipse the boa-constrictor? Even if the creature had never
+been seen, I should, by mere reasoning from analogy, expect the sea to
+produce a serpent excelling the boa-constrictor, as the lobster excels
+a crayfish of our rivers: see how large things grow at sea! the salmon
+born in our rivers weighs in six months a quarter of a pound, or less;
+it goes out to sea, and comes back in one year weighing seven pounds.
+So far from doubting the large sea-serpents, I believe they exist by the
+million. The only thing that puzzles me is, why they should ever show a
+nose above water; they must be very numerous, I think."
+
+Captain Hamilton laughed, and said, "Well, this IS new. Doctor, in
+compliment to your opinion, we will go on deck, and inspect the reptile
+you think so common." He stopped at the door, and said, "Doctor, the
+saltcellar is by you. Would you mind bringing it on deck? We shall want
+a little to secure the animal."
+
+So they all went on deck right merrily.
+
+The captain went up a few ratlines in the mizzen rigging, and looked to
+windward, laughing all the time: but, all of a sudden, there was a great
+change in his manner. "Good heavens, it is alive--LUFF!"
+
+The helmsman obeyed; the news spread like wildfire. Mess kids, grog
+kids, pipes, were all let fall, and some three hundred sailors clustered
+on the rigging like bees, to view the long-talked-of monster.
+
+It was soon discovered to be moving lazily along, the propelling part
+being under water, and about twenty-five feet visible. It had a small
+head for so large a body, and, as they got nearer, rough scales were
+seen, ending in smaller ones further down the body. It had a mane, but
+not like a lion's, as some have pretended. If you have ever seen a pony
+with a hog-mane, that was more the character of this creature's mane, if
+mane it was.
+
+They got within a hundred yards of it, and all saw it plainly, scarce
+believing their senses.
+
+When they could get no nearer for the wind, the captain yielded to that
+instinct which urges man always to kill a curiosity, "to encourage the
+rest," as saith the witty Voltaire. "Get ready a gun--best shot in the
+ship lay and fire it."
+
+This was soon done. Bang went the gun. The shot struck the water close
+to the brute, and may have struck him under water, for aught I know.
+Any way, it sorely disturbed him; for he reared into the air a column
+of serpent's flesh that looked as thick as the maintopmast of a
+seventy-four, opened a mouth that looked capacious enough to swallow
+the largest buoy anchor in the ship, and, with a strange grating noise
+between a bark and a hiss, dived, and was seen no more.
+
+When he was gone, they all looked at one another like men awaking from a
+dream.
+
+Staines alone took it quite coolly. It did not surprise him in the
+least. He had always thought it incredible that the boa-constrictor
+should be larger than any sea-snake. That idea struck him as monstrous
+and absurd. He noted the sea-serpent in his journal, but with this
+doubt, "Semble--more like a very large eel."
+
+Next day they crossed the line. Just before noon a young gentleman
+burst into Staines's cabin, apologizing for want of ceremony; but if
+Dr. Staines would like to see the line, it was now in sight from the
+mizzentop.
+
+"Glad of it, sir," said Staines; "collect it for me in the ship's
+buckets, if you please. I want to send A LINE to friends at home."
+
+Young gentleman buried his hands in his pockets, walked out in solemn
+silence, and resumed his position on the lee-side of the quarter-deck.
+
+Nevertheless, this opening, coupled with what he had heard and read,
+made Staines a little uneasy, and he went to his friend Fitzroy, and
+said, "Now, look here: I am at the service of you experienced and
+humorous mariners. I plead guilty at once to the crime of never having
+passed the line; so, make ready your swabs, and lather me; your ship's
+scraper, and shave me; and let us get it over. But Lord Tadcaster is
+nervous, sensitive, prouder than he seems, and I'm not going to have him
+driven into a fit for all the Neptunes and Amphitrites in creation."
+
+Fitzroy heard him out, then burst out laughing. "Why, there is none of
+that game in the Royal Navy," said he. "Hasn't been this twenty years."
+
+"I'm so sorry," said Dr. Staines. "If there's a form of wit I revere, it
+is practical joking."
+
+"Doctor, you are a satirical beggar."
+
+Staines told Tadcaster, and he went forward and chaffed his friend the
+quartermaster, who was one of the forecastle wits.
+
+"I say, quartermaster, why doesn't Neptune come on board?"
+
+Dead silence.
+
+"I wonder what has become of poor old Nep?"
+
+"Gone ashore!" growled the seaman. "Last seen in Rateliff Highway. Got a
+shop there--lends a shilling in the pound on seamen's advance tickets."
+
+"Oh! and Amphitrite?"
+
+"Married the sexton at Wapping."
+
+"And the Nereids?"
+
+"Neruds!" (scratching his head.) "I harn't kept my eye on them small
+craft. But I BELIEVE they are selling oysters in the port of Leith."
+
+A light breeze carried them across the equator; but soon after they
+got becalmed, and it was dreary work, and the ship rolled gently, but
+continuously, and upset Lord Tadcaster's stomach again, and quenched his
+manly spirit.
+
+At last they were fortunate enough to catch the southeast trade, but it
+was so languid at first that the ship barely moved through the water,
+though they set every stitch, and studding sails alow and aloft, till
+really she was acres of canvas.
+
+While she was so creeping along, a man in the mizzentop noticed an
+enormous shark gliding steadily in her wake. This may seem a small
+incident, yet it ran through the ship like wildfire, and caused more or
+less uneasiness in three hundred stout hearts; so near is every seaman
+to death, and so strong the persuasion in their superstitious minds,
+that a shark does not follow a ship pertinaciously without a prophetic
+instinct of calamity.
+
+Unfortunately, the quartermaster conveyed this idea to Lord Tadcaster,
+and confirmed it by numerous examples to prove that there was always
+death at hand when a shark followed the ship.
+
+Thereupon Tadcaster took it into his head that he was under a relapse,
+and the shark was waiting for his dead body: he got quite low-spirited.
+
+Staines told Fitzroy. Fitzroy said, "Shark be hanged! I'll have him on
+deck in half an hour." He got leave from the captain: a hook was
+baited with a large piece of pork, and towed astern by a stout line,
+experienced old hands attending to it by turns.
+
+The shark came up leisurely, surveyed the bait, and, I apprehend,
+ascertained the position of the hook. At all events, he turned quietly
+on his back, sucked the bait off, and retired to enjoy it.
+
+Every officer in the ship tried him in turn, but without success; for,
+if they got ready for him, and, the moment he took the bait, jerked the
+rope hard, in that case he opened his enormous mouth so wide that the
+bait and hook came out clear. But, sooner or later, he always got the
+bait, and left his captors the hook.
+
+This went on for days, and his huge dorsal fin always in the ship's
+wake.
+
+Then Tadcaster, who had watched these experiments with hope, lost his
+spirit and appetite.
+
+Staines reasoned with him, but in vain. Somebody was to die; and,
+although there were three hundred and more in the ship, he must be the
+one. At last he actually made his will, and threw himself into Staines's
+arms, and gave him messages to his mother and Lady Cicely; and ended by
+frightening himself into a fit.
+
+This roused Staines's pity, and also put him on his mettle. What,
+science be beaten by a shark!
+
+He pondered the matter with all his might; and at last an idea came to
+him.
+
+He asked the captain's permission to try his hand. This was accorded
+immediately, and the ship's stores placed at his disposal very politely,
+but with a sly, comical grin.
+
+Dr. Staines got from the carpenter some sheets of zinc and spare copper,
+and some flannel: these he cut into three-inch squares, and soaked the
+flannel in acidulated water. He then procured a quantity of bell-wire,
+the greater part of which he insulated by wrapping it round with hot
+gutta percha. So eager was he, that he did not turn in all night.
+
+In the morning he prepared what he called an electric fuse--he filled
+a soda-water bottle with gunpowder, attaching some cork to make it
+buoyant, put in the fuse and bung, made it water-tight, connected and
+insulated his main wires--enveloped the bottle in pork--tied a line to
+it, and let the bottle overboard.
+
+The captain and officers shook their heads mysteriously. The tars peeped
+and grinned from every rope to see a doctor try and catch a shark with
+a soda-water bottle and no hook; but somehow the doctor seemed to
+know what he was about, so they hovered round, and awaited the result,
+mystified, but curious, and showing their teeth from ear to ear.
+
+"The only thing I fear," said Staines, "is that, the moment he takes the
+bait, he will cut the wire before I can complete the circuit, and fire
+the fuse."
+
+Nevertheless, there was another objection to the success of the
+experiment. The shark had disappeared.
+
+"Well," said the captain, "at all events, you have frightened him away."
+
+"No," said little Tadcaster, white as a ghost; "he is only under water,
+I know; waiting--waiting."
+
+"There he is," cried one in the ratlines.
+
+There was a rush to the taffrail--great excitement.
+
+"Keep clear of me," said Staines quietly but firmly. "It can only be
+done at the moment before he cuts the wire."
+
+The old shark swam slowly round the bait.
+
+He saw it was something new.
+
+He swam round and round it.
+
+"He won't take it," said one.
+
+"He suspects something."
+
+"Oh, yes, he will take the meat somehow, and leave the pepper. Sly old
+fox!"
+
+"He has eaten many a poor Jack, that one."
+
+The shark turned slowly on his back, and, instead of grabbing at the
+bait, seemed to draw it by gentle suction into that capacious throat,
+ready to blow it out in a moment if it was not all right.
+
+The moment the bait was drawn out of sight, Staines completed the
+circuit; the bottle exploded with a fury that surprised him and
+everybody who saw it; a ton of water flew into the air, and came down in
+spray, and a gory carcass floated, belly uppermost, visibly staining the
+blue water.
+
+There was a roar of amazement and applause.
+
+The carcass was towed alongside, at Tadcaster's urgent request, and then
+the power of the explosion was seen. Confined, first by the bottle, then
+by the meat, then by the fish, and lastly by the water, it had exploded
+with tenfold power, had blown the brute's head into a million atoms, and
+had even torn a great furrow in its carcass, exposing three feet of the
+backbone.
+
+Taddy gloated on his enemy, and began to pick up again from that hour.
+
+The wind improved, and, as usual in that latitude, scarcely varied
+a point. They had a pleasant time,--private theatricals and other
+amusements till they got to latitude 26 deg. S. and longitude 27 deg. W.
+Then the trade wind deserted them. Light and variable winds succeeded.
+
+The master complained of the chronometers, and the captain thought it
+his duty to verify or correct them; and so shaped his course for the
+island of Tristan d'Acunha, then lying a little way out of his course. I
+ought, perhaps, to explain to the general reader that the exact position
+of this island being long ago established and recorded, it was an
+infallible guide to go by in verifying a ship's chronometers.
+
+Next day the glass fell all day, and the captain said he should
+double-reef topsails at nightfall, for something was brewing.
+
+The weather, however, was fine, and the ship was sailing very fast,
+when, about half an hour before sunset, the mast-head man hailed that
+there was a bulk of timber in sight, broad on the weather-bow.
+
+The signalman was sent up, and said it looked like a raft.
+
+The captain, who was on deck, levelled his glass at it, and made it out
+a raft, with a sort of rail to it, and the stump of a mast.
+
+He ordered the officer of the watch to keep the ship as close to the
+wind as possible. He should like to examine it if he could.
+
+The master represented, respectfully, that it would be unadvisable to
+beat to windward for that. "I have no faith in our chronometers, sir,
+and it is important to make the island before dark; fogs rise here so
+suddenly."
+
+"Very well, Mr. Bolt; then I suppose we must let the raft go."
+
+"MAN ON THE RAFT TO WINDWARD!" hailed the signalman.
+
+This electrified the ship. The captain ran up the mizzen rigging, and
+scanned the raft, now nearly abeam.
+
+"It IS a man!" he cried, and was about to alter the ship's course when,
+at that moment, the signalman hailed again,--
+
+"IT IS A CORPSE."
+
+"How d'ye know?"
+
+"By the gulls."
+
+Then succeeded an exciting dialogue between the captain and the master,
+who, being in his department, was very firm; and went so far as to say
+he would not answer for the safety of the ship, if they did not sight
+the land before dark.
+
+The captain said, "Very well," and took a turn or two. But at last he
+said, "No. Her Majesty's ship must not pass a raft with a man on it,
+dead or alive."
+
+He then began to give the necessary orders; but before they were all out
+of his mouth, a fatal interruption occurred.
+
+Tadcaster ran into Dr. Staines's cabin, crying, "A raft with a corpse
+close by!"
+
+Staines sprang to the quarter port to see, and craning eagerly out, the
+lower port chain, which had not been well secured, slipped, the port
+gave way, and as his whole weight rested on it, canted him headlong into
+the sea.
+
+A smart seaman in the forechains saw the accident, and instantly roared
+out, "MAN OVERBOARD!" a cry that sends a thrill through a ship's very
+ribs.
+
+Another smart fellow cut the life-buoy adrift so quickly that it struck
+the water within ten yards of Staines.
+
+The officer of the watch, without the interval of half a moment, gave
+the right orders, in the voice of a stentor;
+
+"Let go life-buoy.
+
+"Life-boat's crew away.
+
+"Hands shorten sail.
+
+"Mainsel up.
+
+"Main topsel to mast."
+
+These orders were executed with admirable swiftness. Meantime there was
+a mighty rush of feet throughout the frigate, every hatchway was crammed
+with men eager to force their way on deck.
+
+In five seconds the middy of the watch and half her crew were in the lee
+cutter, fitted with Clifford's apparatus.
+
+"Lower away!" cried the excited officer; "the others will come down by
+the pendants."
+
+The man stationed, sitting on the bottom boards, eased away roundly,
+when suddenly there was a hitch--the boat would go no farther.
+
+"Lower away there in the cutter! Why don't you lower?" screamed the
+captain, who had come over to leeward expecting to see the boat in the
+water.
+
+"The rope has swollen, sir, and the pendants won't unreeve," cried the
+middy in agony.
+
+"Volunteers for the weather-boat!" shouted the first lieutenant; but
+the order was unnecessary, for more than the proper number were in her
+already.
+
+"Plug in--lower away."
+
+But mishaps never come singly. Scarcely had this boat gone a foot from
+the davit, than the volunteer who was acting as coxswain, in reaching
+out for something, inadvertently let go the line, which, in Kynaston's
+apparatus, keeps the tackles hooked; consequently, down went the boat
+and crew twenty feet, with a terrific crash; the men were struggling for
+their lives, and the boat was stove.
+
+But, meantime, more men having been sent into the lee cutter, their
+weight caused the pendants to render, and the boat got afloat, and was
+soon employed picking up the struggling crew.
+
+Seeing this, Lieutenant Fitzroy collected some hands, and lowered the
+life-boat gig, which was fitted with common tackles, got down into her
+himself by the falls, and pulling round to windward, shouted to the
+signalman for directions.
+
+The signalman was at his post, and had fixed his eye on the man
+overboard, as his duty was; but his mess-mate was in the stove boat, and
+he had cast one anxious look down to see if he was saved, and, sad to
+relate, in that one moment he had lost sight of Staines; the sudden
+darkness--there was no twilight--confused him more, and the ship had
+increased her drift.
+
+Fitzroy, however, made a rapid calculation, and pulled to windward with
+all his might. He was followed in about a minute by the other sound boat
+powerfully manned, and both boats melted away into the night.
+
+There was a long and anxious suspense, during which it became pitch
+dark, and the ship burned blue lights to mark her position more plainly
+to the crews that were groping the sea for that beloved passenger.
+
+Captain Hamilton had no doubt that the fate of Staines was decided, one
+way or other, long before this; but he kept quiet until he saw the plain
+signs of a squall at hand. Then, as he was responsible for the safety of
+boats and ship, he sent up rockets to recall them.
+
+The cutter came alongside first. Lights were poured on her, and
+quavering voices asked, "Have you got him?"
+
+The answer was dead silence, and sorrowful, drooping heads.
+
+Sadly and reluctantly was the order given to hoist the boat in.
+
+Then the gig came alongside. Fitzroy seated in her, with his hands
+before his face; the men gloomy and sad.
+
+"GONE! GONE!"
+
+Soon the ship was battling a heavy squall.
+
+At midnight all quiet again, and hove to. Then, at the request of many,
+the bell was tolled, and the ship's company mustered bareheaded,
+and many a stout seaman in tears, as the last service was read for
+Christopher Staines.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+Rosa fell ill with grief at the hotel, and could not move for some days;
+but the moment she was strong enough, she insisted on leaving Plymouth:
+like all wounded things, she must drag herself home.
+
+But what a home! How empty it struck, and she heart-sick and desolate.
+Now all the familiar places wore a new aspect: the little yard, where he
+had so walked and waited, became a temple to her, and she came out
+and sat in it, and now first felt to the full how much he had suffered
+there--with what fortitude. She crept about the house, and kissed
+the chair he had sat in, and every much-used place and thing of the
+departed.
+
+Her shallow nature deepened and deepened under this bereavement, of
+which, she said to herself, with a shudder, she was the cause. And this
+is the course of nature; there is nothing like suffering to enlighten
+the giddy brain, widen the narrow mind, improve the trivial heart.
+
+As her regrets were tender and deep, so her vows of repentance
+were sincere. Oh, what a wife she would make when he came back! how
+thoughtful! how prudent! how loyal! and never have a secret. She who had
+once said, "What is the use of your writing? nobody will publish it,"
+now collected and perused every written scrap. With simple affection
+she even locked up his very waste-paper basket, full of fragments he had
+torn, or useless papers he had thrown there, before he went to Plymouth.
+
+In the drawer of his writing-table she found his diary. It was a
+thick quarto: it began with their marriage, and ended with his leaving
+home--for then he took another volume. This diary became her Bible; she
+studied it daily, till her tears hid his lines. The entries were very
+miscellaneous, very exact; it was a map of their married life. But
+what she studied most was his observations on her own character, so
+scientific, yet so kindly; and his scholar-like and wise reflections.
+The book was an unconscious picture of a great mind she had hitherto but
+glanced at: now she saw it all plain before her; saw it, understood it,
+adored it, mourned it. Such women are shallow, not for want of a
+head upon their shoulders, but of ATTENTION. They do not really
+study anything: they have been taught at their schools the bad art of
+skimming; but let their hearts compel their brains to think and think,
+the result is considerable. The deepest philosopher never fathomed a
+character more thoroughly than this poor child fathomed her philosopher,
+when she had read his journal ten or eleven times, and bedewed it with a
+thousand tears.
+
+One passage almost cut her more intelligent heart in twain:--
+
+"This dark day I have done a thing incredible. I have spoken with brutal
+harshness to the innocent creature I have sworn to protect. She had run
+in debt, through inexperience, and that unhappy timidity which makes
+women conceal an error till it ramifies, by concealment, into a fault;
+and I must storm and rave at her, till she actually fainted away. Brute!
+Ruffian! Monster! And she, how did she punish me, poor lamb? By soft
+and tender words--like a lady, as she is. Oh, my sweet Rosa, I wish you
+could know how you are avenged. Talk of the scourge--the cat! I would be
+thankful for two dozen lashes. Ah! there is no need, I think, to punish
+a man who has been cruel to a woman. Let him alone. He will punish
+himself more than you can, if he is really a man."
+
+From the date of that entry, this self-reproach and self-torture kept
+cropping up every now and then in the diary; and it appeared to have
+been not entirely without its influence in sending Staines to sea,
+though the main reason he gave was that his Rosa might have the comforts
+and luxuries she had enjoyed before she married him.
+
+One day, while she was crying over this diary, Uncle Philip called; but
+not to comfort her, I promise you. He burst on her, irate, to take her
+to task. He had returned, learned Christopher's departure, and settled
+the reason in his own mind: that uxorious fool was gone to sea by a
+natural reaction; his eyes were open to his wife at last, and he was
+sick of her folly; so he had fled to distant climes, as who would not,
+that could?
+
+"SO, ma'am," said he, "my nephew is gone to sea, I find--all in a hurry.
+Pray may I ask what he has done that for?"
+
+It was a very simple question, yet it did not elicit a very plain
+answer. She only stared at this abrupt inquisitor, and then cried,
+piteously, "Oh, Uncle Philip!" and burst out sobbing.
+
+"Why, what is the matter?"
+
+"You WILL hate me now. He is gone to make money for ME; and I would
+rather have lived on a crust. Uncle--don't hate me. I'm a poor,
+bereaved, heart-broken creature, that repents."
+
+"Repents! heigho! why, what have you been up to now, ma'am? No great
+harm, I'll be bound. Flirting a little with some FOOL--eh?"
+
+"Flirting! Me! a married woman."
+
+"Oh, to be sure; I forgot. Why, surely he has not deserted you."
+
+"My Christopher desert me! He loves me too well; far more than I
+deserve; but not more than I will. Uncle Philip, I am too confused and
+wretched to tell you all that has happened; but I know you love him,
+though you had a tiff: uncle, he called on you, to shake hands and ask
+your forgiveness, poor fellow! He was so sorry you were away. Please
+read his dear diary: it will tell you all, better than his poor foolish
+wife can. I know it by heart. I'll show you where you and he quarrelled
+about me. There, see." And she showed him the passage with her finger.
+"He never told me it was that, or I would have come and begged your
+pardon on my knees. But see how sorry he was. There, see. And now I'll
+show you another place, where my Christopher speaks of your many, many
+acts of kindness. There, see. And now please let me show you how he
+longed for reconciliation. There, see. And it is the same through
+the book. And now I'll show you how grieved he was to go without your
+blessing. I told him I was sure you would give him that, and him going
+away. Ah, me! will he ever return? Uncle dear, don't hate me. What shall
+I do, now he is gone, if you disown me? Why, you are the only Staines
+left me to love."
+
+"Disown you, ma'am! that I'll never do. You are a good-hearted
+young woman, I find. There, run and dry your eyes; and let me read
+Christopher's diary all through. Then I shall see how the land lies."
+
+Rosa complied with his proposal; and left him alone while she bathed her
+eyes, and tried to compose herself, for she was all trembling at this
+sudden irruption.
+
+When she returned to the drawing-room, he was walking about, looking
+grave and thoughtful.
+
+"It is the old story," said he, rather gently: "a MISUNDERSTANDING. How
+wise our ancestors were that first used that word to mean a quarrel!
+for, look into twenty quarrels, and you shall detect a score of
+mis-under-standings. Yet our American cousins must go and substitute the
+un-ideaed word 'difficulty'; that is wonderful. I had no quarrel with
+him: delighted to see either of you. But I had called twice on him; so I
+thought he ought to get over his temper, and call on a tried friend
+like me. A misunderstanding! Now, my dear, let us have no more of these
+misunderstandings. You will always be welcome at my house, and I shall
+often come here and look after you and your interests. What do you mean
+to do, I wonder?"
+
+"Sir, I am to go home to my father, if he will be troubled with me. I
+have written to him."
+
+"And what is to become of the Bijou?"
+
+"My Christie thought I should like to part with it, and the
+furniture--but his own writing-desk and his chair, no, I never will,
+and his little clock. Oh! oh! oh!--But I remember what you said about
+agents, and I don't know what to do; for I shall be away."
+
+"Then, leave it to me. I'll come and live here with one servant; and
+I'll soon sell it for you."
+
+"You, Uncle Philip!"
+
+"Well, why not?" said he roughly.
+
+"That will be a great trouble and discomfort to you, I'm afraid."
+
+"If I find it so, I'll soon drop it. I'm not the fool to put myself out
+for anybody. When you are ready to go out, send me word, and I'll come
+in."
+
+Soon after this he bustled off. He gave her a sort of hurried kiss at
+parting, as if he was ashamed of it, and wanted it over as quickly as
+possible.
+
+Next day her father came, condoled with her politely, assured her there
+was nothing to cry about; husbands were a sort of functionaries that
+generally went to sea at some part of their career, and no harm ever
+came of it. On the contrary, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder," said
+this judicious parent.
+
+This sentiment happened to be just a little too true, and set the
+daughter crying bitterly. But she fought against it. "Oh no!" said she,
+"I MUSTN'T. I will not be always crying in Kent Villa."
+
+"Lord forbid!"
+
+"I shall get over it in time--a little."
+
+"Why, of course you will. But as to your coming to Kent Villa, I
+am afraid you would not be very comfortable there. You know I am
+superannuated. Only got my pension now."
+
+"I know that, papa: and--why, that is one of the reasons. I have a good
+income now; and I thought if we put our means together"--
+
+"Oh, that is a very different thing. You will want a carriage, I
+suppose. I have put mine down."
+
+"No carriage; no horse; no footman; no luxury of any kind till my
+Christie comes back. I abhor dress; I abhor expense; I loathe everything
+I once liked too well; I detest every folly that has parted us; and I
+hate myself worst of all. Oh! oh! oh! Forgive me for crying so."
+
+"Well, I dare say there are associations about this place that upset
+you. I shall go and make ready for you, dear; and then you can come as
+soon as you like."
+
+He bestowed a paternal kiss on her brow, and glided doucely away before
+she could possibly cry again.
+
+The very next week Rosa was at Kent Villa, with the relics of her
+husband about her; his chair, his writing-table, his clock, his
+waste-paper basket, a very deep and large one. She had them all in her
+bedroom at Kent Villa.
+
+Here the days glided quietly but heavily.
+
+She derived some comfort from Uncle Philip. His rough, friendly way was
+a tonic, and braced her. He called several times about the Bijou. Told
+her he had put up enormous boards all over the house, and puffed it
+finely. "I have had a hundred agents at me," said he; "and the next
+thing, I hope, will be one customer; that is about the proportion."
+At last he wrote her he had hooked a victim, and sold the lease and
+furniture for nine hundred guineas. Staines had assigned the lease to
+Rosa, so she had full powers; and Philip invested the money, and two
+hundred more she gave him, in a little mortgage at six per cent.
+
+Now came the letter from Madeira. It gave her new life. Christopher
+was well, contented, hopeful. His example should animate her. She would
+bravely bear the present, and share his hopes of the future: with
+these brighter views Nature co-operated. The instincts of approaching
+maternity brightened the future. She fell into gentle reveries, and saw
+her husband return, and saw herself place their infant in his arms with
+all a wife's, a mother's pride.
+
+In due course came another long letter from the equator, with a
+full journal, and more words of hope. Home in less than a year, with
+reputation increased by this last cure; home, to part no more.
+
+Ah! what a changed wife he should find! how frugal, how candid, how full
+of appreciation, admiration, and love, of the noblest, dearest husband
+that ever breathed!
+
+Lady Cicely Treherne waited some weeks, to let kinder sentiments return.
+She then called in Dear Street, but found Mrs. Staines was gone to
+Gravesend. She wrote to her.
+
+In a few days she received a reply, studiously polite and cold.
+
+This persistent injustice mortified her at last. She said to herself,
+"Does she think his departure was no loss to ME? It was to her
+interests, as well as his, I sacrificed my own selfish wishes. I will
+write to her no more."
+
+This resolution she steadily maintained. It was shaken for a moment,
+when she heard, by a side wind, that Mrs. Staines was fast approaching
+the great pain and peril of women. Then she wavered. But no. She prayed
+for her by name in the Liturgy, but she troubled her no more.
+
+This state of things lasted some six weeks, when she received a letter
+from her cousin Tadcaster, close on the heels of his last, to which she
+had replied as I have indicated. She knew his handwriting, and opened it
+with a smile.
+
+That smile soon died off her horror-stricken face. The letter ran
+thus:--
+
+
+TRISTAN D'ACUNHA, Jan. 5.
+
+DEAR CICELY,--A terrible thing has just happened. We signalled a raft,
+with a body on it, and poor Dr. Staines leaned out of the port-hole,
+and fell overboard. Three boats were let down after him; but it all went
+wrong, somehow, or it was too late. They could never find him, he was
+drowned; and the funeral service was read for the poor fellow.
+
+We are all sadly cut up. Everybody loved him. It was dreadful next
+day at dinner, when his chair was empty. The very sailors cried at not
+finding him.
+
+First of all, I thought I ought to write to his wife. I know where she
+lives; it is called Kent Villa, Gravesend. But I was afraid; it might
+kill her: and you are so good and sensible, I thought I had better write
+to you, and perhaps you could break it to her by degrees, before it gets
+in all the papers.
+
+I send this from the island, by a small vessel, and paid him ten pounds
+to take it.
+
+Your affectionate cousin,
+
+TADCASTER.
+
+
+Words are powerless to describe a blow like this: the amazement, the
+stupor, the reluctance to believe--the rising, swelling, surging horror.
+She sat like a woman of stone, crumpling the letter. "Dead!--dead?"
+
+For a long time this was all her mind could realize--that Christopher
+Staines was dead. He who had been so full of life and thought and
+genius, and worthier to live than all the world, was dead; and a million
+nobodies were still alive, and he was dead.
+
+She lay back on the sofa, and all the power left her limbs. She could
+not move a hand.
+
+But suddenly she started up; for a noble instinct told her this blow
+must not fall on the wife as it had on her, and in her time of peril.
+
+She had her bonnet on in a moment, and for the first time in her life,
+darted out of the house without her maid. She flew along the streets,
+scarcely feeling the ground. She got to Dear Street, and obtained Philip
+Staines's address. She flew to it, and there learned he was down at
+Kent Villa. Instantly she telegraphed to her maid to come down to her
+at Gravesend, with things for a short visit, and wait for her at the
+station; and she went down by train to Gravesend.
+
+Hitherto she had walked on air, driven by one overpowering impulse.
+Now, as she sat in the train, she thought a little of herself. What was
+before her? To break to Mrs. Staines that her husband was dead. To tell
+her all her misgivings were more than justified. To encounter her cold
+civility, and let her know, inch by inch, it must be exchanged for
+curses and tearing of hair; her husband was dead. To tell her this, and
+in the telling of it, perhaps reveal that it was HER great bereavement,
+as well as the wife's, for she had a deeper affection for him than she
+ought.
+
+Well, she trembled like an aspen leaf, trembled like one in an ague,
+even as she sat. But she persevered.
+
+A noble woman has her courage; not exactly the same as that which leads
+forlorn hopes against bastions bristling with rifles and tongued with
+flames and thunderbolts; yet not inferior to it.
+
+Tadcaster, small and dull, but noble by birth and instinct, had seen the
+right thing for her to do; and she, of the same breed, and nobler far,
+had seen it too; and the great soul steadily drew the recoiling heart
+and quivering body to this fiery trial, this act of humanity--to do
+which was terrible and hard, to shirk it, cowardly and cruel.
+
+She reached Gravesend, and drove in a fly to Kent Villa.
+
+The door was opened by a maid.
+
+"Is Mrs. Staines at home?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am, she is at HOME: but--"
+
+"Can I see her?"
+
+"Why, no, ma'am, not at present."
+
+"But I must see her. I am an old friend. Please take her my card. Lady
+Cicely Treherne."
+
+The maid hesitated, and looked confused. "Perhaps you don't know, ma'am.
+Mrs. Staines, she is--the doctor have been in the house all day."
+
+"Ah, the doctor! I believe Dr. Philip Staines is here."
+
+"Why, that IS the doctor, ma'am. Yes, he is here."
+
+"Then, pray let me see him--or no; I had better see Mr. Lusignan."
+
+"Master have gone out for the day, ma'am; but if you'll step in the
+drawing-room, I'll tell the doctor."
+
+Lady Cicely waited in the drawing-room some time, heart-sick and
+trembling.
+
+At last Dr. Philip came in, with her card in his hand, looking evidently
+a little cross at the interruption. "Now, madam, please tell me, as
+briefly as you can, what I can do for you."
+
+"Are you Dr. Philip Staines?"
+
+"I am, madam, at your service--for five minutes. Can't quit my patient
+long, just now."
+
+"Oh, sir, thank God I have found you. Be prepared for ill news--sad
+news--a terrible calamity--I can't speak. Read that, sir." And she
+handed him Tadcaster's note.
+
+He took it, and read it.
+
+He buried his face in his hands. "Christopher! my poor, poor boy!"
+he groaned. But suddenly a terrible anxiety seized him. "Who knows of
+this?" he asked.
+
+"Only myself, sir. I came here to break it to her."
+
+"You are a good, kind lady, for being so thoughtful. Madam, if this gets
+to my niece's ears, it will kill her, as sure as we stand here."
+
+"Then let us keep it from her. Command me, sir. I will do anything. I
+will live here--take the letters in--the journals--anything."
+
+"No, no; you have done your part, and God bless you for it. You must not
+stay here. Your ladyship's very presence, and your agitation, would set
+the servants talking, and some idiot-fiend among them babbling--there is
+nothing so terrible as a fool."
+
+"May I remain at the inn, sir; just one night?"
+
+"Oh yes, I wish you would; and I will run over, if all is well with
+her--well with her? poor unfortunate girl!"
+
+Lady Cicely saw he wished her gone, and she went directly.
+
+At nine o'clock that same evening, as she lay on a sofa in the best room
+of the inn, attended by her maid, Dr. Philip Staines came to her. She
+dismissed her maid.
+
+Dr. Philip was too old, in other words, had lost too many friends, to
+be really broken down by bereavement; but he was strangely subdued. The
+loud tones were out of him, and the loud laugh, and even the keen sneer.
+Yet he was the same man; but with a gentler surface; and this was not
+without its pathos.
+
+"Well, madam," said he gravely and quietly. "It is as it always has
+been. 'As is the race of leaves, so that of man.' When one falls,
+another comes. Here's a little Christopher come, in place of him that is
+gone: a brave, beautiful boy, ma'am; the finest but one I ever brought
+into the world. He is come to take his father's place in our hearts--I
+see you valued his poor father, ma'am--but he comes too late for me. At
+your age, ma'am, friendships come naturally; they spring like loves in
+the soft heart of youth: at seventy, the gate is not so open; the soil
+is more sterile. I shall never care for another Christopher; never see
+another grow to man's estate."
+
+"The mother, sir," sobbed Lady Cicely; "the poor mother?"
+
+"Like them all--poor creature: in heaven, madam; in heaven. New life!
+new existence! a new character. All the pride, glory, rapture, and
+amazement of maternity--thanks to her ignorance, which we must prolong,
+or I would not give one straw for her life, or her son's. I shall never
+leave the house till she does know it, and come when it may, I dread the
+hour. She is not framed by nature to bear so deadly a shock."
+
+"Her father, sir. Would he not be the best person to break it to her? He
+was out to-day."
+
+"Her father, ma'am? I shall get no help from him. He is one of those
+soft, gentle creatures, that come into the world with what your canting
+fools call a mission; and his mission is to take care of number one.
+Not dishonestly, mind you, nor violently, nor rudely, but doucely and
+calmly. The care a brute like me takes of his vitals, that care Lusignan
+takes of his outer cuticle. His number one is a sensitive plant. No
+scenes, no noise; nothing painful--by-the-by, the little creature that
+writes in the papers, and calls calamities PAINFUL, is of Lusignan's
+breed. Out to-day! of course he was out, ma'am: he knew from me his
+daughter would be in peril all day, so he visited a friend. He knew his
+own tenderness, and evaded paternal sensibilities: a self-defender. I
+count on no help from that charming man."
+
+"A man! I call such creachaas weptiles!" said Lady Cicely, her ghastly
+cheek coloring for a moment.
+
+"Then you give them a false importance."
+
+In the course of this interview, Lady Cicely accused herself sadly of
+having interfered between man and wife, and with the best intentions
+brought about this cruel calamity. "Judge, then, sir," said she,
+"how grateful I am to you for undertaking this cruel task. I was her
+schoolfellow, sir, and I love her dearly; but she has turned against me,
+and now, oh, with what horror she will regard me!"
+
+"Madam," said the doctor, "there is nothing more mean and unjust than
+to judge others by events that none could foresee. Your conscience
+is clear. You did your best for my poor nephew: but Fate willed it
+otherwise. As for my niece, she has many virtues, but justice is one
+you must not look for in that quarter. Justice requires brains. It's
+a virtue the heart does not deal in. You must be content with your own
+good conscience, and an old man's esteem. You did all for the best; and
+this very day you have done a good, kind action. God bless you for it!"
+
+Then he left her; and next day she went sadly home, and for many a long
+day the hollow world saw nothing of Cicely Treherne.
+
+When Mr. Lusignan came home that night, Dr. Philip told him the
+miserable story, and his fears. He received it, not as Philip had
+expected. The bachelor had counted without his dormant paternity. He
+was terror-stricken--abject--fell into a chair, and wrung his hands,
+and wept piteously. To keep it from his daughter till she should be
+stronger, seemed to him chimerical, impossible. However, Philip insisted
+it must be done; and he must make some excuse for keeping out of her
+way, or his manner would rouse her suspicions. He consented readily to
+that, and indeed left all to Dr. Philip.
+
+Dr. Philip trusted nobody; not even his own confidential servant. He
+allowed no journal to come into the house without passing through his
+hands, and he read them all before he would let any other soul in the
+house see them. He asked Rosa to let him be her secretary and open her
+letters, giving as a pretext that it would be as well she should have no
+small worries or trouble just now.
+
+"Why," said she, "I was never so well able to bear them. It must be a
+great thing to put me out now. I am so happy, and live in the future.
+Well, dear uncle, you can if you like--what does it matter?--only there
+must be one exception: my own Christie's letters, you know."
+
+"Of course," said he, wincing inwardly.
+
+The very next day came a letter of condolence from Miss Lucas. Dr.
+Philip intercepted it, and locked it up, to be shown her at a more
+fitting time.
+
+But how could he hope to keep so public a thing as this from entering
+the house in one of a hundred newspapers?
+
+He went into Gravesend, and searched all the newspapers, to see what he
+had to contend with. To his horror, he found it in several dailies and
+weeklies, and in two illustrated papers. He sat aghast at the difficulty
+and the danger.
+
+The best thing he could think of was to buy them all, and cut out the
+account. He did so, and brought all the papers, thus mutilated, into
+the house, and sent them into the kitchen. He said to his old servant,
+"These may amuse Mr. Lusignan's people, and I have extracted all that
+interests me."
+
+By these means he hoped that none of the servants would go and buy more
+of these same papers elsewhere.
+
+Notwithstanding these precautions, he took the nurse apart, and said,
+"Now, you are an experienced woman, and to be trusted about an excitable
+patient. Mind, I object to any female servant entering Mrs. Staines's
+room with gossip. Keep them outside the door for the present, please.
+Oh, and nurse, if anything should happen, likely to grieve or to worry
+her, it must be kept from her entirely: can I trust you?"
+
+"You may, sir."
+
+"I shall add ten guineas to your fee, if she gets through the month
+without a shock or disturbance of any kind."
+
+She stared at him, inquiringly. Then she said,--
+
+"You may rely on me, doctor."
+
+"I feel I may. Still, she alarms me. She looks quiet enough, but she is
+very excitable."
+
+Not all these precautions gave Dr. Philip any real sense of security;
+still less did they to Mr. Lusignan. He was not a tender father, in
+small things, but the idea of actual danger to his only child was
+terrible to him and he now passed his life in a continual tremble.
+
+This is the less to be wondered at, when I tell you that even the stout
+Philip began to lose his nerve, his appetite, his sleep, under this
+hourly terror and this hourly torture.
+
+Well did the great imagination of antiquity feign a torment, too great
+for the mind long to endure, in the sword of Damocles suspended by
+a single hair over his head. Here the sword hung over an innocent
+creature, who smiled beneath it, fearless; but these two old men must
+sit and watch the sword, and ask themselves how long before that subtle
+salvation shall snap.
+
+"Ill news travels fast," says the proverb. "The birds of the air shall
+carry the matter," says Holy Writ; and it is so. No bolts nor bars, no
+promises nor precautions, can long shut out a great calamity from the
+ears it is to blast, the heart it is to wither. The very air seems full
+of it, until it falls.
+
+Rosa's child was more than a fortnight old; and she was looking more
+beautiful than ever, as is often the case with a very young mother, and
+Dr. Philip complimented her on her looks. "Now," said he, "you reap the
+advantage of being good, and obedient, and keeping quiet. In another ten
+days or so, I may take you to the seaside for a week. I have the honor
+to inform you that from about the fourth to the tenth of March there is
+always a week of fine weather, which takes everybody by surprise, except
+me. It does not astonish me, because I observe it is invariable. Now,
+what would you say if I gave you a week at Herne Bay, to set you up
+altogether?"
+
+"As you please, dear uncle," said Mrs. Staines, with a sweet smile. "I
+shall be very happy to go, or to stay. I shall be happy everywhere, with
+my darling boy, and the thought of my husband. Why, I count the days
+till he shall come back to me. No, to us; to us, my pet. How dare a
+naughty mammy say to 'me,' as if 'me' was half the 'portance of oo, a
+precious pets!"
+
+Dr. Philip was surprised into a sigh.
+
+"What is the matter, dear?" said Rosa, very quickly.
+
+"The matter?"
+
+"Yes, dear, the matter. You sighed; you, the laughing philosopher."
+
+"Did I?" said he, to gain time. "Perhaps I remembered the uncertainty of
+human life, and of all mortal hopes. The old will have their thoughts,
+my dear. They have seen so much trouble."
+
+"But, uncle dear, he is a very healthy child."
+
+"Very."
+
+"And you told me yourself carelessness was the cause so many children
+die."
+
+"That is true."
+
+She gave him a curious and rather searching look; then, leaning over
+her boy, said, "Mammy's not afraid. Beautiful Pet was not born to die
+directly. He will never leave his mam-ma. No, uncle, he never can. For
+my life is bound in his and his dear father's. It is a triple cord: one
+go, go all."
+
+She said this with a quiet resolution that chilled Uncle Philip.
+
+At this moment the nurse, who had been bending so pertinaciously over
+some work that her eyes were invisible, looked quickly up, cast a
+furtive glance at Mrs. Staines, and finding she was employed for the
+moment, made an agitated signal to Dr. Philip. All she did was to
+clench her two hands and lift them half way to her face, and then cast a
+frightened look towards the door; but Philip's senses were so sharpened
+by constant alarm and watching, that he saw at once something serious
+was the matter. But as he had asked himself what he should do in case
+of some sudden alarm, he merely gave a nod of intelligence to the nurse,
+scarcely perceptible, then rose quietly from his seat, and went to the
+window. "Snow coming, I think," said he. "For all that we shall have the
+March summer in ten days. You mark my words." He then went leisurely
+out of the room; at the door he turned, and, with all the cunning he was
+master of, said, "Oh, by the by, come to my room, nurse, when you are at
+leisure."
+
+"Yes, doctor," said the nurse, but never moved. She was too bent on
+hiding the agitation she really felt.
+
+"Had you not better go to him, nurse?"
+
+"Perhaps I had, madam."
+
+She rose with feigned indifference, and left the room. She walked
+leisurely down the passage, then, casting a hasty glance behind her,
+for fear Mrs. Staines should be watching her, hurried into the doctor's
+room. They met at once in the middle of the room, and Mrs. Briscoe burst
+out, "Sir, it is known all over the house!"
+
+"Heaven forbid! What is known?"
+
+"What you would give the world to keep from her. Why, sir, the moment
+you cautioned me, of course I saw there was trouble. But little I
+thought--sir, not a servant in the kitchen or the stable but knows that
+her husband--poor thing! poor thing!--Ah! there goes the housemaid--to
+have a look at her."
+
+"Stop her!"
+
+Mrs. Briscoe had not waited for this; she rushed after the woman, and
+told her Mrs. Staines was sleeping, and the room must not be entered on
+any account.
+
+"Oh, very well," said the maid, rather sullenly.
+
+Mrs. Briscoe saw her return to the kitchen, and came back to Dr.
+Staines; he was pacing the room in torments of anxiety.
+
+"Doctor," said she, "it is the old story: 'Servants' friends, the
+master's enemies.' An old servant came here to gossip with her friend
+the cook (she never could abide her while they were together, by all
+accounts), and told her the whole story of his being drowned at sea."
+
+Dr. Philip groaned, "Cursed chatterbox!" said he. "What is to be done?
+Must we break it to her now? Oh, if I could only buy a few days more!
+The heart to be crushed while the body is weak! It is too cruel. Advise
+me, Mrs. Briscoe. You are an experienced woman, and I think you are a
+kind-hearted woman."
+
+"Well, sir," said Mrs. Briscoe, "I had the name of it, when I was
+younger--before Briscoe failed, and I took to nursing; which it hardens,
+sir, by use, and along of the patients themselves; for sick folk are
+lumps of selfishness; we see more of them than you do, sir. But this I
+WILL say, 'tisn't selfishness that lies now in that room, waiting for
+the blow that will bring her to death's door, I'm sore afraid; but a
+sweet, gentle, thoughtful creature, as ever supped sorrow; for I don't
+know how 'tis, doctor, nor why 'tis, but an angel like that has always
+to sup sorrow."
+
+"But you do not advise me," said the doctor, in agitation, "and
+something must be done."
+
+"Advise you, sir; it is not for me to do that. I am sure I'm at my wits'
+ends, poor thing! Well, sir, I don't see what you can do, but try and
+break it to her. Better so, than let it come to her like a clap of
+thunder. But I think, sir, I'd have a wet-nurse ready, before I said
+much: for she is very quick--and ten to one but the first word of such a
+thing turns her blood to gall. Sir, I once knew a poor woman--she was
+a carpenter's wife--a-nursing her child in the afternoon--and in runs a
+foolish woman, and tells her he was killed dead, off a scaffold. 'Twas
+the man's sister told her. Well, sir, she was knocked stupid like, and
+she sat staring, and nursing of her child, before she could take it in
+rightly. The child was dead before supper-time, and the woman was not
+long after. The whole family was swept away, sir, in a few hours, and
+I mind the table was not cleared he had dined on, when they came to lay
+them out. Well-a-day, nurses see sorrow!"
+
+"We all see sorrow that live long, Mrs. Briscoe. I am heart-broken
+myself; I am desperate. You are a good soul, and I'll tell you. When
+my nephew married this poor girl, I was very angry with him; and I soon
+found she was not fit to be a struggling man's wife; and then I was very
+angry with her. She had spoiled a first-rate physician, I thought. But,
+since I knew her better, it is all changed. She is so lovable. How I
+shall ever tell her this terrible thing, God knows. All I know is, that
+I will not throw a chance away. Her body SHALL be stronger, before I
+break her heart. Cursed idiots, that could not save a single man, with
+their boats, in a calm sea! Lord forgive me for blaming people, when I
+was not there to see. I say I will give her every chance. She shall not
+know it till she is stronger: no, not if I live at her door, and sleep
+there, and all. Good God! inspire me with something. There is always
+something to be done, if one could but see it."
+
+Mrs. Briscoe sighed and said, "Sir, I think anything is better than for
+her to hear it from a servant--and they are sure to blurt it out. Young
+women are such fools."
+
+"No, no; I see what it is," said Dr. Philip. "I have gone all wrong from
+the first. I have been acting like a woman, when I should have acted
+like a man. Why, I only trusted YOU by halves. There was a fool for you.
+Never trust people by halves."
+
+"That is true, sir."
+
+"Well, then, now I shall go at it like a man. I have a vile opinion of
+servants; but no matter. I'll try them: they are human, I suppose. I'll
+hit them between the eyes like a man. Go to the kitchen, Mrs. Briscoe,
+and tell them I wish to speak to all the servants, indoors or out."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+She stopped at the door, and said, "I had better get back to her, as
+soon as I have told them."
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"And what shall I tell her, sir? Her first word will be to ask me what
+you wanted me for. I saw that in her eye. She was curious: that is why
+she sent me after you so quick."
+
+Dr. Philip groaned. He felt he was walking among pitfalls. He rapidly
+flavored some distilled water with orange-flower, then tinted it a
+beautiful pink, and bottled it. "There," said he; "I was mixing a new
+medicine. Tablespoon, four times a day: had to filter it. Any lie you
+like."
+
+Mrs. Briscoe went to the kitchen, and gave her message: then went to
+Mrs. Staines with the mixture.
+
+Dr. Philip went down to the kitchen, and spoke to the servants very
+solemnly. He said, "My good friends, I am come to ask your help in a
+matter of life and death. There is a poor young woman up-stairs; she
+is a widow, and does not know it; and must not know it yet. If the blow
+fell now, I think it would kill her: indeed, if she hears it all of a
+sudden, at any time, that might destroy her. We are in so sore a strait
+that a feather may turn the scale. So we must try all we can to gain a
+little time, and then trust to God's mercy after all. Well, now, what
+do you say? Will you help me keep it from her, till the tenth of March,
+say? and then I will break it to her by degrees. Forget she is your
+mistress. Master and servant, that is all very well at a proper time;
+but this is the time to remember nothing but that we are all one flesh
+and blood. We lie down together in the churchyard, and we hope to rise
+together where there will be no master and servant. Think of the poor
+unfortunate creature as your own flesh and blood, and tell me, will you
+help me try and save her, under this terrible blow?"
+
+"Ay, doctor, that we will," said the footman. "Only you give us our
+orders, and you will see."
+
+"I have no right to give you orders; but I entreat you not to show her
+by word or look, that calamity is upon her. Alas! it is only a reprieve
+you can give her and to me. The bitter hour MUST come when I must tell
+her she is a widow, and her boy an orphan. When that day comes, I will
+ask you all to pray for me that I may find words. But now I ask you to
+give me that ten days' reprieve. Let the poor creature recover a little
+strength, before the thunderbolt of affliction falls on her head. Will
+you promise me?"
+
+They promised heartily; and more than one of the women began to cry.
+
+"A general assent will not satisfy me," said Dr. Philip. "I want every
+man, and every woman, to give me a hand upon it; then I shall feel sure
+of you."
+
+The men gave him their hands at once. The women wiped their hands with
+their aprons, to make sure they were clean, and gave him their hands
+too. The cook said, "If any one of us goes from it, this kitchen will be
+too hot to hold her."
+
+"Nobody will go from it, cook," said the doctor. "I'm not afraid of
+that; and now since you have promised me, out of your own good hearts,
+I'll try and be even with you. If she knows nothing of it by the tenth
+of March, five guineas to every man and woman in this kitchen. You shall
+see that, if you can be kind, we can be grateful."
+
+He then hurried away. He found Mr. Lusignan in the drawing-room, and
+told him all this. Lusignan was fluttered, but grateful. "Ah, my good
+friend," said he, "this is a hard trial to two old men, like you and
+me."
+
+"It is," said Philip. "It has shown me my age. I declare I am trembling;
+I, whose nerves were iron. But I have a particular contempt for
+servants. Mercenary wretches! I think Heaven inspired me to talk to
+them. After all, who knows? perhaps we might find a way to their hearts,
+if we did not eternally shock their vanity, and forget that it is, and
+must be, far greater than our own. The women gave me their tears,
+and the men were earnest. Not one hand lay cold in mine. As for your
+kitchen-maid, I'd trust my life to that girl. What a grip she gave
+me! What strength! What fidelity was in it! My hand was never GRASPED
+before. I think we are safe for a few days more."
+
+Lusignan sighed. "What does it all come to? We are pulling the trigger
+gently, that is all."
+
+"No, no; that is not it. Don't let us confound the matter with similes,
+please. Keep them for children."
+
+Mrs. Staines left her bed; and would have left her room, but Dr. Philip
+forbade it strictly.
+
+One day, seated in her arm-chair, she said to the nurse, before Dr.
+Philip, "Nurse, why do the servants look so curiously at me?"
+
+Mrs. Briscoe cast a hasty glance at Dr. Philip, and then said, "I don't
+know, madam. I never noticed that."
+
+"Uncle, why did nurse look at you before she answered such a simple
+question?"
+
+"I don't know. What question?"
+
+"About the servants."
+
+"Oh, about the servants!" said he contemptuously.
+
+"You should not turn up your nose at them, for they are all most kind
+and attentive. Only, I catch them looking at me so strangely; really--as
+if they--"
+
+"Rosa, you are taking me quite out of my depth. The looks of servant
+girls! Why, of course a lady in your condition is an object of especial
+interest to them. I dare say they are saying to one another, 'I wonder
+when my turn will come!' A fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind--that
+is a proverb, is it not?"
+
+"To be sure. I forgot that."
+
+She said no more; but seemed thoughtful, and not quite satisfied.
+
+On this Dr. Philip begged the maids to go near her as little as
+possible. "You are not aware of it," said he, "but your looks, and
+your manner of speaking, rouse her attention, and she is quicker than I
+thought she was, and observes very subtly."
+
+This was done; and then she complained that nobody came near her. She
+insisted on coming down-stairs; it was so dull.
+
+Dr. Philip consented, if she would be content to receive no visits for a
+week.
+
+She assented to that; and now passed some hours every day in the
+drawing-room. In her morning wrappers, so fresh and crisp, she looked
+lovely, and increased in health and strength every day.
+
+Dr. Philip used to look at her, and his very flesh would creep at the
+thought that, ere long, he must hurl this fair creature into the dust
+of affliction; must, with a word, take the ruby from her lips, the rose
+from her cheeks, the sparkle from her glorious eyes--eyes that beamed
+on him with sweet affection, and a mouth that never opened, but to show
+some simplicity of mind, or some pretty burst of the sensitive heart.
+
+He put off, and put off, and at last cowardice began to whisper, "Why
+tell her the whole truth at all? Why not take her through stages of
+doubt, alarm, and, after all, leave a grain of hope till her child gets
+so rooted in her heart that"--But conscience and good sense interrupted
+this temporary thought, and made him see to what a horrible life of
+suspense he should condemn a human creature, and live a perpetual lie,
+and be always at the edge of some pitfall or other.
+
+One day, while he sat looking at her, with all these thoughts, and many
+more, coursing through his mind, she looked up at him, and surprised
+him. "Ah!" said she gravely.
+
+"What is the matter, my dear?"
+
+"Oh, nothing," said she cunningly.
+
+"Uncle, dear," said she presently, "when do we go to Herne Bay?"
+
+Now, Dr. Philip had given that up. He had got the servants at Kent Villa
+on his side, and he felt safer here than in any strange place: so he
+said, "I don't know: that all depends. There is plenty of time."
+
+"No, uncle," said Rosa gravely. "I wish to leave this house. I can
+hardly breathe in it."
+
+"What! your native air?"
+
+"Mystery is not my native air; and this house is full of mystery. Voices
+whisper at my door, and the people don't come in. The maids cast strange
+looks at me, and hurry away. I scolded that pert girl Jane, and she
+answered me as meek as Moses. I catch you looking at me, with love, and
+something else. What is that something--? It is Pity: that is what it
+is. Do you think, because I am called a simpleton, that I have no eyes,
+nor ears, nor sense? What is this secret which you are all hiding from
+one person, and that is me? Ah! Christopher has not written these five
+weeks. Tell me the truth, for I will know it," and she started up in
+wild excitement.
+
+Then Dr. Philip saw the hour was come.
+
+He said, "My poor girl, you have read us right. I am anxious about
+Christopher, and all the servants know it."
+
+"Anxious, and not tell ME; his wife; the woman whose life is bound up in
+his."
+
+"Was it for us to retard your convalescence, and set you fretting, and
+perhaps destroy your child? Rosa, my darling, think what a treasure
+Heaven has sent you, to love and care for."
+
+"Yes," said she, trembling, "Heaven has been good to me; I hope Heaven
+will always be as good to me. I don't deserve it; but then I tell God
+so. I am very grateful, and very penitent. I never forget that, if I
+had been a good wife, my husband--five weeks is a long time. Why do
+you tremble so? Why are you so pale--a strong man like you? CALAMITY!
+CALAMITY!"
+
+Dr. Philip hung his head.
+
+She looked at him, started wildly up, then sank back into her chair. So
+the stricken deer leaps, then falls. Yet even now she put on a deceitful
+calm, and said, "Tell me the truth. I have a right to know."
+
+He stammered out, "There is a report of an accident at sea."
+
+She kept silence.
+
+"Of a passenger drowned--out of that ship. This, coupled with his
+silence, fills our hearts with fear."
+
+"It is worse--you are breaking it to me--you have gone too far to stop.
+One word: is he alive? Oh, say he is alive!"
+
+Philip rang the bell hard, and said in a troubled voice, "Rosa, think of
+your child."
+
+"Not when my husband--Is he alive or dead?"
+
+"It is hard to say, with such a terrible report about, and no letters,"
+faltered the old man, his courage failing him.
+
+"What are you afraid of? Do you think I can't die, and go to him? Alive,
+or dead?" and she stood before him, raging and quivering in every limb.
+
+The nurse came in.
+
+"Fetch her child," he cried; "God have mercy on her."
+
+"Ah, then he is dead," said she, with stony calmness. "I drove him to
+sea, and he is dead."
+
+The nurse rushed in, and held the child to her.
+
+She would not look at it.
+
+"Dead!"
+
+"Yes, our poor Christie is gone--but his child is here--the image of
+him. Do not forget the mother. Have pity on his child and yours."
+
+"Take it out of my sight!" she screamed. "Away with it, or I shall
+murder it, as I have murdered its father. My dear Christie, before all
+that live! I have killed him. I shall die for him. I shall go to him."
+She raved and tore her hair. Servants rushed in. Rosa was carried to her
+bed, screaming and raving, and her black hair all down on both sides, a
+piteous sight.
+
+Swoon followed swoon, and that very night brain fever set in with all
+its sad accompaniments; a poor bereaved creature, tossing and moaning;
+pale, anxious, but resolute faces of the nurse and the kitchen-maid
+watching: on one table a pail of ice, and on another the long, thick
+raven hair of our poor Simpleton, lying on clean silver paper. Dr.
+Philip had cut it all off with his own hand, and he was now folding it
+up, and crying over it; for he thought to himself, "Perhaps in a few
+days more only this will be left of her on earth."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+Staines fell head-foremost into the sea with a heavy plunge. Being an
+excellent swimmer, he struck out the moment he touched the water, and
+that arrested his dive, and brought him up with a slant, shocked and
+panting, drenched and confused. The next moment he saw, as through a
+fog--his eyes being full of water--something fall from the ship. He
+breasted the big waves, and swam towards it: it rose on the top of a
+wave, and he saw it was a life-buoy. Encumbered with wet clothes, he
+seemed impotent in the big waves; they threw him up so high, and down so
+low.
+
+Almost exhausted, he got to the life-buoy, and clutched it with a fierce
+grasp and a wild cry of delight. He got it over his head, and, placing
+his arms round the buoyant circle, stood with his breast and head out of
+water, gasping.
+
+He now drew a long breath, and got his wet hair out of his eyes, already
+smarting with salt water, and, raising himself on the buoy, looked out
+for help.
+
+He saw, to his great concern, the ship already at a distance. She seemed
+to have flown, and she was still drifting fast away from him.
+
+He saw no signs of help. His heart began to turn as cold as his drenched
+body. A horrible fear crossed him.
+
+But presently he saw the weather-boat filled, and fall into the water;
+and then a wave rolled between him and the ship, and he only saw her
+topmast.
+
+The next time he rose on a mighty wave he saw the boats together astern
+of the vessel, but not coming his way; and the gloom was thickening, the
+ship becoming indistinct, and all was doubt and horror.
+
+A life of agony passed in a few minutes.
+
+He rose and fell like a cork on the buoyant waves--rose and fell, and
+saw nothing but the ship's lights, now terribly distant.
+
+But at last, as he rose and fell, he caught a few fitful glimpses of a
+smaller light rising and falling like himself. "A boat!" he cried, and
+raising himself as high as he could, shouted, cried, implored for help.
+He stretched his hands across the water. "This way! this way!"
+
+The light kept moving, but it came no nearer. They had greatly
+underrated the drift. The other boat had no light.
+
+Minutes passed of suspense, hope, doubt, dismay, terror. Those minutes
+seemed hours.
+
+In the agony of suspense the quaking heart sent beads of sweat to the
+brow, though the body was immersed.
+
+And the gloom deepened, and the cold waves flung him up to heaven with
+their giant arms, and then down again to hell: and still that light, his
+only hope, was several hundred yards from him.
+
+Only for a moment at a time could his eyeballs, straining with agony,
+catch this will-o'-the-wisp, the boat's light. It groped the sea up and
+down, but came no near.
+
+When what seemed days of agony had passed, suddenly a rocket rose in the
+horizon--so it seemed to him.
+
+The lost man gave a shriek of joy; so prone are we to interpret things
+hopefully.
+
+Misery! The next time he saw that little light, that solitary spark of
+hope, it was not quite so near as before. A mortal sickness fell on his
+heart. The ship had recalled the boats by rocket.
+
+He shrieked, he cried, he screamed, he raved. "Oh, Rosa! Rosa! for her
+sake, men, men, do not leave me. I am here! here!"
+
+In vain. The miserable man saw the boat's little light retire, recede,
+and melt into the ship's larger light, and that light glided away.
+
+Then, a cold, deadly stupor fell on him. Then, death's icy claw seized
+his heart, and seemed to run from it to every part of him. He was a dead
+man. Only a question of time. Nothing to gain by floating.
+
+But the despairing mind could not quit the world in peace, and even here
+in the cold, cruel sea, the quivering body clung to this fragment of
+life, and winced at death's touch, though more merciful.
+
+He despised this weakness; he raged at it; he could not overcome it.
+
+Unable to live or to die, condemned to float slowly, hour by hour, down
+into death's jaws.
+
+To a long, death-like stupor succeeded frenzy. Fury seized this great
+and long-suffering mind. It rose against the cruelty and injustice of
+his fate. He cursed the world, whose stupidity had driven him to sea,
+he cursed remorseless nature; and at last he railed on the God who made
+him, and made the cruel water, that was waiting for his body. "God's
+justice! God's mercy! God's power! they are all lies," he shouted,
+"dreams, chimeras, like Him the all-powerful and good, men babble of by
+the fire. If there was a God more powerful than the sea, and only
+half as good as men are, he would pity my poor Rosa and me, and send
+a hurricane to drive those caitiffs back to the wretch they have
+abandoned. Nature alone is mighty. Oh, if I could have her on my side,
+and only God against me! But she is as deaf to prayer as He is: as
+mechanical and remorseless. I am a bubble melting into the sea. Soul
+I have none; my body will soon be nothing, nothing. So ends an honest,
+loving life. I always tried to love my fellow-creatures. Curse them!
+curse them! Curse the earth! Curse the sea! Curse all nature: there is
+no other God for me to curse."
+
+The moon came out.
+
+He raised his head and staring eyeballs, and cursed her.
+
+The wind began to whistle, and flung spray in his face.
+
+He raised his fallen head and staring eyeballs, and cursed the wind.
+
+While he was thus raving, he became sensible of a black object to
+windward.
+
+It looked like a rail, and a man leaning on it.
+
+He stared, he cleared the wet hair from his eyes, and stared again.
+
+The thing, being larger than himself and partly out of water, was
+drifting to leeward faster than himself.
+
+He stared and trembled, and at last it came nearly abreast, black,
+black.
+
+He gave a loud cry, and tried to swim towards it; but encumbered with
+his life-buoy, he made little progress. The thing drifted abreast of
+him, but ten yards distant.
+
+As they each rose high upon the waves, he saw it plainly.
+
+It was the very raft that had been the innocent cause of his sad fate.
+
+He shouted with hope, he swam, he struggled; he got near it, but not
+to it; it drifted past, and he lost his chance of intercepting it. He
+struggled after it. The life-buoy would not let him catch it.
+
+Then he gave a cry of agony, rage, despair, and flung off the life-buoy,
+and risked all on this one chance.
+
+He gains a little on the raft.
+
+He loses.
+
+He gains: he cries, "Rosa! Rosa!" and struggles with all his soul, as
+well as his body: he gains.
+
+But when almost within reach, a wave half drowns him, and he loses.
+
+He cries, "Rosa! Rosa!" and swims high and strong. "Rosa! Rosa! Rosa!"
+
+He is near it. He cries, "Rosa! Rosa!" and with all the energy of love
+and life flings himself almost out of the water, and catches hold of the
+nearest thing on the raft.
+
+It was the dead man's leg.
+
+It seemed as if it would come away in his grasp. He dared not try to
+pull himself up by that. But he held on by it, panting, exhausting,
+faint.
+
+This faintness terrified him. "Oh," thought he, "if I faint now, all is
+over."
+
+Holding by that terrible and strange support, he made a grasp, and
+caught hold of the woodwork at the bottom of the rail. He tried to draw
+himself up. Impossible.
+
+He was no better off than with his life-buoy.
+
+But in situations so dreadful, men think fast; he worked gradually
+round the bottom of the raft by his hands, till he got to leeward, still
+holding on. There he found a solid block of wood at the edge of the
+raft. He prised himself carefully up; the raft in that part then sank a
+little: he got his knee upon the timber of the raft, and with a wild
+cry seized the nearest upright, and threw both arms round it and clung
+tight. Then first he found breath to speak. "THANK GOD!" he cried,
+kneeling on the timber, and grasping the upright post--"OH, THANK GOD!
+THANK GOD!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+"Thank God!" why, according to his theory, it should have been "Thank
+Nature." But I observe that, in such cases, even philosophers are
+ungrateful to the mistress they worship.
+
+Our philosopher not only thanked God, but being on his knees, prayed
+forgiveness for his late ravings, prayed hard, with one arm curled round
+the upright, lest the sea, which ever and anon rushed over the bottom of
+the raft, should swallow him up in a moment.
+
+Then he rose carefully, and wedged himself into the corner of the raft
+opposite to that other figure, ominous relic of the wild voyage the
+new-comer had entered upon; he put both arms over the rail, and stood
+erect.
+
+The moon was now up; but so was the breeze: fleecy clouds flew with
+vast rapidity across her bright face, and it was by fitful though vivid
+glances Staines examined the raft and his companion.
+
+The raft was large, and well made of timbers tied and nailed together,
+and a strong rail ran round it resting on several uprights. There were
+also some blocks of a very light wood screwed to the horizontal timbers,
+and these made it float high.
+
+But what arrested and fascinated the man's gaze was his dead companion,
+sole survivor, doubtless, of a horrible voyage, since the raft was not
+made for one, nor by one.
+
+It was a skeleton, or nearly, whose clothes the seabirds had torn, and
+pecked every limb in all the fleshy parts; the rest of the body had
+dried to dark leather on the bones. The head was little more than an
+eyeless skull; but in the fitful moonlight, those huge hollow
+caverns seemed gigantic lamp-like eyes, and glared at him fiendishly,
+appallingly.
+
+He sickened at the sight. He tried not to look at it; but it would be
+looked at, and threaten him in the moonlight, with great lack-lustre
+eyes.
+
+The wind whistled, and lashed his face with spray torn off the big
+waves, and the water was nearly up to his knees, and the raft tossed
+so wildly, it was all he could do to hold on in his corner: in which
+struggle, still those monstrous lack-lustre eyes, like lamps of death,
+glared at him in the moon; all else was dark, except the fiery crests of
+the black mountain-billows, tumbling and raging all around.
+
+What a night!
+
+But, before morning, the breeze sank, the moon set, and a sombre quiet
+succeeded, with only that grim figure in outline dimly visible. Owing to
+the motion still retained by the waves, it seemed to nod and rear, and
+be ever preparing to rush upon him.
+
+The sun rose glorious, on a lovely scene; the sky was a very mosaic of
+colors sweet and vivid, and the tranquil, rippling sea, peach-colored to
+the horizon, with lines of diamonds where the myriad ripples broke into
+smiles.
+
+Staines was asleep, exhausted. Soon the light awoke him, and he looked
+up. What an incongruous picture met his eye: that heaven of color
+all above and around, and right before him, like a devil stuck in
+mid-heaven, that grinning corpse, whose fate foreshadowed his own.
+
+But daylight is a great strengthener of the nerves; the figure no longer
+appalled him--a man who had long learned to look with Science's calm
+eye upon the dead. When the sea became like glass, and from peach-color
+deepened to rose, he walked along the raft, and inspected the dead man.
+He found it was a man of color, but not a black. The body was not kept
+in its place, as he had supposed, merely by being jammed into the angle
+caused by the rail; it was also lashed to the corner upright by a long,
+stout belt. Staines concluded this had kept the body there, and its
+companions had been swept away.
+
+This was not lost on him: he removed the belt for his own use: he then
+found it was not only a belt, but a receptacle; it was nearly full of
+small, hard substances that felt like stones.
+
+When he had taken it off the body, he felt a compunction. "Ought he to
+rob the dead, and expose it to be swept into the sea at the first wave,
+like a dead dog?"
+
+He was about to replace the belt, when a middle course occurred to him.
+He was a man who always carried certain useful little things about him,
+viz., needles, thread, scissors, and string. He took a piece of string,
+and easily secured this poor light skeleton to the raft. The belt he
+strapped to the rail, and kept for his own need.
+
+And now hunger gnawed him. No food was near. There was nothing but the
+lovely sea and sky, mosaic with color, and that grim, ominous skeleton.
+
+Hunger comes and goes many times before it becomes insupportable. All
+that day and night, and the next day, he suffered its pangs; and then it
+became torture, but the thirst maddening.
+
+Towards night fell a gentle rain. He spread a handkerchief and caught
+it. He sucked the handkerchief.
+
+This revived him, and even allayed in some degree the pangs of hunger.
+
+Next day was cloudless. A hot sun glared on his unprotected head, and
+battered down his enfeebled frame.
+
+He resisted as well as he could. He often dipped his head, and as often
+the persistent sun, with cruel glare, made it smoke again.
+
+Next day the same: but the strength to meet it was waning. He lay down
+and thought of Rosa, and wept bitterly. He took the dead man's belt, and
+lashed himself to the upright. That act, and his tears for his beloved,
+were almost his last acts of perfect reason: for next day came the
+delusions and the dreams that succeed when hunger ceases to torture,
+and the vital powers begin to ebb. He lay and saw pleasant meadows with
+meandering streams, and clusters of rich fruit that courted the hand and
+melted in the mouth.
+
+Ever and anon they vanished, and he saw grim death looking down on him
+with those big cavernous eyes.
+
+By and by, whether his body's eye saw the grim skeleton, or his mind's
+eye the juicy fruits, green meadows, and pearly brooks, all was shadowy.
+
+So, in a placid calm, beneath a blue sky, the raft drifted dead, with
+its dead freight, upon the glassy purple, and he drifted, too, towards
+the world unknown.
+
+There came across the waters to that dismal raft a thing none too
+common, by sea or land--a good man.
+
+He was tall, stalwart, bronzed, and had hair like snow, before his time,
+for he had known trouble. He commanded a merchant steamer, bound for
+Calcutta, on the old route.
+
+The man at the mast-head descried a floating wreck, and hailed the
+deck accordingly. The captain altered his course without one moment's
+hesitation, and brought up alongside, lowered a boat, and brought the
+dead, and the breathing man, on board.
+
+A young middy lifted Staines in his arms from the wreck to the boat; he
+whose person I described in chapter one weighed now no more than that.
+
+Men are not always rougher than women. Their strength and nerve enable
+them now and then to be gentler than buttery-fingered angels, who drop
+frail things through sensitive agitation, and break them. These rough
+men saw Staines was hovering between life and death, and they handled
+him like a thing the ebbing life might be shaken out of in a moment. It
+was pretty to see how gingerly the sailors carried the sinking man up
+the ladder, and one fetched swabs, and the others laid him down softly
+on them at their captain's feet.
+
+"Well done, men," said he. "Poor fellow! Pray Heaven, we may not have
+come too late. Now stand aloof a bit. Send the surgeon aft."
+
+The surgeon came, and looked, and felt the heart. He shook his head, and
+called for brandy. He had Staines's head raised, and got half a spoonful
+of diluted brandy down his throat. But there was an ominous gurgling.
+
+After several such attempts at intervals, he said plainly the man's life
+could not be saved by ordinary means.
+
+"Then try extraordinary," said the captain. "My orders are that he is to
+be saved. There is life in him. You have only got to keep it there. He
+MUST be saved; he SHALL be saved."
+
+"I should like to try Dr. Staines's remedy," said the surgeon.
+
+"Try it, then what is it?"
+
+"A bath of beef-tea. Dr. Staines says he applied it to a starved
+child--in the Lancet."
+
+"Take a hundred-weight of beef, and boil it in the coppers."
+
+Thus encouraged, the surgeon went to the cook, and very soon beef was
+steaming on a scale and at a rate unparalleled.
+
+Meantime, Captain Dodd had the patient taken to his own cabin, and he
+and his servant administered weak brandy and water with great caution
+and skill.
+
+There was no perceptible result. But at all events there was life and
+vital instinct left, or he could not have swallowed.
+
+Thus they hovered about him for some hours, and then the bath was ready.
+
+The captain took charge of the patient's clothes: the surgeon and a
+sailor bathed him in lukewarm beef-tea, and then covered him very warm
+with blankets next the skin. Guess how near a thing it seemed to them,
+when I tell you they dared not rub him.
+
+Just before sunset his pulse became perceptible. The surgeon
+administered half a spoonful of egg-flip. The patient swallowed it.
+
+By and by he sighed.
+
+"He must not be left, day or night," said the captain. "I don't know who
+or what he is, but he is a man; and I could not bear him to die now."
+
+That night Captain Dodd overhauled the patient's clothes, and looked for
+marks on his linen. There were none.
+
+"Poor devil" said Captain Dodd. "He is a bachelor."
+
+Captain Dodd found his pocket-book, with bank-notes, two hundred pounds.
+He took the numbers, made a memorandum of them, and locked the notes up.
+
+He lighted his lamp, examined the belt, unripped it, and poured out the
+contents on his table.
+
+They were dazzling. A great many large pieces of amethyst, and some
+of white topaz and rock crystal; a large number of smaller stones,
+carbuncles, chrysolites, and not a few emeralds. Dodd looked at them
+with pleasure, sparkling in the lamplight.
+
+"What a lot!" said he. "I wonder what they are worth!" He sent for the
+first mate, who, he knew, did a little private business in precious
+stones. "Masterton," said he, "oblige me by counting these stones with
+me, and valuing them."
+
+Mr. Masterton stared, and his mouth watered. However, he named the
+various stones and valued them. He said there was one stone, a large
+emerald, without a flaw, that was worth a heavy sum by itself; and the
+pearls, very fine: and looking at the great number, they must be worth a
+thousand pounds.
+
+Captain Dodd then entered the whole business carefully in the ship's
+log: the living man he described thus: "About five feet six in height,
+and about fifty years of age." Then he described the notes and the
+stones very exactly, and made Masterton, the valuer, sign the log.
+
+Staines took a good deal of egg-flip that night, and next day ate
+solid food; but they questioned him in vain; his reason was entirely in
+abeyance: he had become an eater, and nothing else. Whenever they gave
+him food, he showed a sort of fawning animal gratitude. Other sentiment
+he had none, nor did words enter his mind any more than a bird's. And
+since it is not pleasant to dwell on the wreck of a fine understanding,
+I will only say that they landed him at Cape Town, out of bodily danger,
+but weak, and his mind, to all appearance, a hopeless blank.
+
+They buried the skeleton,--read the service of the English Church over a
+Malabar heathen.
+
+Dodd took Staines to the hospital, and left twenty pounds with the
+governor of it to cure him. But he deposited Staines's money and jewels
+with a friendly banker, and begged that the principal cashier might see
+the man, and be able to recognize him, should he apply for his own.
+
+The cashier came and examined him, and also the ruby ring on his
+finger--a parting gift from Rosa--and remarked this was a new way of
+doing business.
+
+"Why, it is the only one, sir," said Dodd. "How can we give you his
+signature? He is not in his right mind."
+
+"Nor never will be."
+
+"Don't say that, sir. Let us hope for the best, poor fellow."
+
+Having made these provisions, the worthy captain weighed anchor, with a
+warm heart and a good conscience. Yet the image of the man he had saved
+pursued him, and he resolved to look after him next time he should coal
+at Cape Town, homeward bound.
+
+Staines recovered his strength in about two months; but his mind
+returned in fragments, and very slowly. For a long, long time he
+remembered nothing that had preceded his great calamity. His mind
+started afresh, aided only by certain fixed habits; for instance, he
+could read and write: but, strange as it may appear, he had no idea who
+he was; and when his memory cleared a little on that head, he thought
+his surname was Christie, but he was not sure.
+
+Nevertheless, the presiding physician discovered in him a certain
+progress of intelligence, which gave him great hopes. In the fifth
+month, having shown a marked interest in the other sick patients,
+coupled with a disposition to be careful and attentive, they made him a
+nurse, or rather a sub-nurse under the special orders of a responsible
+nurse. I really believe it was done at first to avoid the alternative
+of sending him adrift, or transferring him to the insane ward of the
+hospital. In this congenial pursuit he showed such watchfulness and
+skill, that by and by they found they had got a treasure. Two months
+after that he began to talk about medicine, and astonished them still
+more. He became the puzzle of the establishment. The doctor and surgeon
+would converse with him, and try and lead him to his past life; but when
+it came to that, he used to put his hands to his head with a face of
+great distress, and it was clear some impassable barrier lay between
+his growing intelligence and the past events of his life. Indeed, on
+one occasion, he said to his kind friend the doctor, "The past!--a black
+wall! a black wall!"
+
+Ten months after his admission he was promoted to be an attendant, with
+a salary.
+
+He put by every shilling of it; for he said, "A voice from the dark past
+tells me money is everything in this world."
+
+A discussion was held by the authorities as to whether he should be
+informed he had money and jewels at the bank or not.
+
+Upon the whole, it was thought advisable to postpone this information,
+lest he should throw it away; but they told him he had been picked up
+at sea, and both money and jewels found on him; they were in safe hands,
+only the person was away for the time. Still, he was not to look upon
+himself as either friendless or moneyless.
+
+At this communication he showed an almost childish delight, that
+confirmed the doctor in his opinion he was acting prudently, and for the
+real benefit of an amiable and afflicted person, not yet to be trusted
+with money and jewels.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+In his quality of attendant on the sick, Staines sometimes conducted
+a weak but convalescent patient into the open air; and he was always
+pleased to do this, for the air of the Cape carries health and vigor on
+its wings. He had seen its fine recreative properties, and he divined,
+somehow, that the minds of convalescents ought to be amused, and so he
+often begged the doctor to let him take a convalescent abroad. Sooner
+than not, he would draw the patient several miles in a Bath chair. He
+rather liked this; for he was a Hercules, and had no egotism or false
+pride where the sick were concerned.
+
+Now, these open-air walks exerted a beneficial influence on his own
+darkened mind. It is one thing to struggle from idea to idea; it is
+another when material objects mingle with the retrospect; they seem
+to supply stepping-stones in the gradual resuscitation of memory and
+reason.
+
+The ships going out of port were such a steppingstone to him, and a
+vague consciousness came back to him of having been in a ship.
+
+Unfortunately, along with this reminiscence came a desire to go in one
+again; and this sowed discontent in his mind, and the more that mind
+enlarged, the more he began to dislike the hospital and its confinement.
+The feeling grew, and bade fair to disqualify him for his humble office.
+The authorities could not fail to hear of this, and they had a little
+discussion about parting with him; but they hesitated to turn him
+adrift, and they still doubted the propriety of trusting him with money
+and jewels.
+
+While matters were in this state a remarkable event occurred. He drew a
+sick patient down to the quay one morning, and watched the business of
+the port with the keenest interest. A ship at anchor was unloading,
+and a great heavy boat was sticking to her side like a black leech.
+Presently this boat came away, and moved sluggishly towards the shore,
+rather by help of the tide than of the two men who went through the form
+of propelling her with two monstrous sweeps, while a third steered her.
+She contained English goods: agricultural implements, some cases, four
+horses, and a buxom young woman with a thorough English face. The woman
+seemed a little excited, and as she neared the landing-place, she called
+out in jocund tones to a young man on the shore, "It is all right, Dick;
+they are beauties," and she patted the beasts as people do who are fond
+of them.
+
+She stepped lightly ashore, and then came the slower work of landing her
+imports. She bustled about, like a hen over her brood, and wasn't always
+talking, but put in her word every now and then, never crossly, and
+always to the point.
+
+Staines listened to her, and examined her with a sort of puzzled look;
+but she took no notice of him; her whole soul was in the cattle.
+
+They got the things on board well enough; but the horses were frightened
+at the gangway, and jibbed. Then a man was for driving them, and poked
+one of them in the quarter; he snorted and reared directly.
+
+"Man alive!" cried the young woman, "that is not the way. They are
+docile enough, but frightened. Encourage 'em, and let 'em look at it.
+Give 'em time. More haste less speed, with timorous cattle."
+
+"That is a very pleasant voice," said poor Staines, rather more
+dictatorially than became the present state of his intellect. He added
+softly, "a true woman's voice;" then gloomily, "a voice of the past--the
+dark, dark past."
+
+At this speech intruding itself upon the short sentences of business,
+there was a roar of laughter, and Phoebe Falcon turned sharply round to
+look at the speaker. She stared at him; she cried "Oh!" and clasped her
+hands, and colored all over. "Why, sure," said she, "I can't be mistook.
+Those eyes--'tis you, doctor, isn't it?"
+
+"Doctor?" said Staines, with a puzzled look. "Yes; I think they called
+me doctor once. I'm an attendant in the hospital now."
+
+"Dick!" cried Phoebe, in no little agitation. "Come here this minute."
+
+"What, afore I get the horses ashore?"
+
+"Ay, before you do another thing, or say another word. Come here, now."
+So he came, and she told him to take a good look at the man. "Now," said
+she, "who is that?"
+
+"Blest if I know," said he.
+
+"What, not know the man who saved your own life! Oh, Dick, what are your
+eyes worth?"
+
+This discourse brought the few persons within hearing into one band of
+excited starers.
+
+Dick took a good look, and said, "I'm blest if I don't, though; it is
+the doctor that cut my throat."
+
+This strange statement drew forth quite a shout of ejaculations.
+
+"Oh, better breathe through a slit than not at all," said Dick. "Saved
+my life with that cut, he did, didn't he, Pheeb?"
+
+"That he did, Dick. Dear heart, I hardly know whether I am in my senses
+or not, seeing him a-looking so blank. You try him."
+
+Dick came forward. "Sure you remember me, sir. Dick Dale. You cut my
+throat, and saved my life."
+
+"Cut your throat! why, that would kill you."
+
+"Not the way you done it. Well, sir, you ain't the man you was, that is
+clear; but you was a good friend to me, and there's my hand."
+
+"Thank you, Dick," said Staines, and took his hand. "I don't remember
+YOU. Perhaps you are one of the past. The past is dead wall to me--a
+dark dead wall," and he put his hands to his head with a look of
+distress.
+
+Everybody there now suspected the truth, and some pointed mysteriously
+to their own heads.
+
+Phoebe whispered an inquiry to the sick person.
+
+He said a little pettishly, "All I know is, he is the kindest attendant
+in the ward, and very attentive."
+
+"Oh, then, he is in the public hospital."
+
+"Of course he is."
+
+The invalid, with the selfishness of his class, then begged Staines to
+take him out of all this bustle down to the beach. Staines complied at
+once, with the utmost meekness, and said, "Good-by, old friends; forgive
+me for not remembering you. It is my great affliction that the past
+is gone from me--gone, gone." And he went sadly away, drawing his sick
+charge like a patient mule.
+
+Phoebe Falcon looked after him, and began to cry.
+
+"Nay, nay, Phoebe," said Dick; "don't ye take on about it."
+
+"I wonder at you," sobbed Phoebe. "Good people, I'm fonder of my brother
+than he is of himself, it seems; for I can't take it so easy. Well, the
+world is full of trouble. Let us do what we are here for. But I shall
+pray for the poor soul every night, that his mind may be given back to
+him."
+
+So then she bustled, and gave herself to getting the cattle on shore,
+and the things put on board her wagon.
+
+But when this was done, she said to her brother, "Dick, I did not think
+anything on earth could take my heart off the cattle and the things we
+have got from home; but I can't leave this without going to the hospital
+about our poor dear doctor: and it is late for making a start, any
+way--and you mustn't forget the newspapers for Reginald--he is so fond
+of them--and you must contrive to have one sent out regular after this,
+and I'll go to the hospital."
+
+She went, and saw the head doctor, and told him he had got an attendant
+there she had known in England in a very different condition, and she
+had come to see if there was anything she could do for him--for she felt
+very grateful to him, and grieved to see him so.
+
+The doctor was pleased and surprised, and put several questions.
+
+Then she gave him a clear statement of what he had done for Dick in
+England.
+
+"Well," said the doctor, "I believe it is the same man; for, now you
+tell me this--yes, one of the nurses told me he knew more about medicine
+than she did. His name, if you please."
+
+"His name, sir?"
+
+"Yes, his name. Of course you know his name. Is it Christie?"
+
+"Doctor," said Phoebe, blushing, "I don't know what you will think of
+me, but I don't know his name. Laws forgive me, I never had the sense to
+ask it."
+
+A shade of suspicion crossed the doctor's face.
+
+Phoebe saw it, and colored to the temples. "Oh, sir," she cried
+piteously, "don't go for to think I have told you a lie! why should I?
+and indeed I am not of that sort, nor Dick neither. Sir, I'll bring
+him to you, and he will say the same. Well, we were all in terror and
+confusion, and I met him accidentally in the street. He was only a
+customer till then, and paid ready money, so that is how I never knew
+his name, but if I hadn't been the greatest fool in England, I should
+have asked his wife."
+
+"What! he has a wife?"
+
+"Ay, sir, the loveliest lady you ever clapped eyes on, and he is almost
+as handsome; has eyes in his head like jewels; 'twas by them I knew him
+on the quay, and I think he knew my voice again, said as good as he had
+heard it in past times."
+
+"Did he? Then we have got him," cried the doctor energetically.
+
+"La, Sir."
+
+"Yes; if he knows your voice, you will be able in time to lead his
+memory back; at least, I think so. Do you live in Cape Town?"
+
+"Dear heart, no. I live at my own farm, a hundred and eighty miles from
+this."
+
+"What a pity!"
+
+"Why, sir?"
+
+"Well--hum!"
+
+"Oh, if you think I could do the poor doctor good by having him with
+me, you have only to say the word, and out he goes with Dick and me
+to-morrow morning. We should have started for home to-night, but for
+this."
+
+"Are you in earnest, madam?" said the doctor, opening his eyes. "Would
+you really encumber yourself with a person whose reason is in suspense,
+and may never return?"
+
+"But that is not his fault, sir. Why, if a dog had saved my brother's
+life, I'd take it home, and keep it all its days; and this is a man, and
+a worthy man. Oh, sir, when I saw him brought down so, and his beautiful
+eyes clouded like, my very bosom yearned over the poor soul; a kind act
+done in dear old England, who can see the man in trouble here, and
+not repay it--ay, if it cost one's blood. But indeed he is strong and
+healthy, and hands are always scarce our way, and the odds are he will
+earn his meat one way or t'other; and if he doesn't, why, all the better
+for me; I shall have the pleasure of serving him for nought that once
+served me for neither money nor reward."
+
+"You are a good woman," said the doctor warmly.
+
+"There's better, and there's worse," said Phoebe quietly, and even a
+little coldly.
+
+"More of the latter," said the doctor dryly. "Well, Mrs.--?"
+
+"Falcon, sir."
+
+"We shall hand him over to your care: but first--just for form--if
+you are a married woman, we should like to see Dick here: he is your
+husband, I presume."
+
+Ploebe laughed merrily. "Dick is my brother; and he can't be spared to
+come here. Dick! he'd say black was white if I told him to."
+
+"Then let us see your husband about it--just for form."
+
+"My husband is at the farm. I could not venture so far away, and not
+leave him in charge." If she had said, "I will not bring him into
+temptation," that would have been nearer the truth. "Let that fly stick
+on the wall, sir. What I do, my husband will approve."
+
+"I see how it is. You rule the roost."
+
+Phoebe did not reply point-blank to that; she merely said, "All my
+chickens are happy, great and small," and an expression of lofty,
+womanly, innocent pride illuminated her face and made it superb for a
+moment.
+
+In short, it was settled that Staines should accompany her next morning
+to Dale's Kloof Farm, if he chose. On inquiry, it appeared that he had
+just returned to the hospital with his patient. He was sent for, and
+Phoebe asked him sweetly if he would go with her to her house, one
+hundred and eighty miles away, and she would be kind to him.
+
+"On the water?"
+
+"Nay, by land; but 'tis a fine country, and you will see beautiful deer
+and things running across the plains, and"--
+
+"Shall I find the past again, the past again?"
+
+"Ay, poor soul, that we shall, God willing. You and I, we will hunt it
+together."
+
+He looked at her, and gave her his hand. "I will go with you. Your face
+belongs to the past, so does your voice."
+
+He then inquired, rather abruptly, had she any children. She smiled.
+
+"Ay, that I have, the loveliest little boy you ever saw. When you are as
+you used to be, you will be his doctor, won't you?"
+
+"Yes, I will nurse him, and you will help me find the past."
+
+Phoebe then begged Staines to be ready to start at six in the morning.
+She and Dick would take him up on their way.
+
+While she was talking to him the doctor slipped out, and to tell the
+truth he went to consult with another authority, whether he should take
+this opportunity of telling Staines that he had money and jewels at the
+bank: he himself was half inclined to do so; but the other, who had not
+seen Phoebe's face, advised him to do nothing of the kind. "They are
+always short of money, these colonial farmers," said he; "she would get
+every shilling out of him."
+
+"Most would; but this is such an honest face."
+
+"Well, but she is a mother, you say."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, what mother could be just to a lunatic, with her own sweet angel
+babes to provide for?"
+
+"That is true," said Dr. ----. "Maternal love is apt to modify the
+conscience."
+
+"What I would do,--I would take her address, and make her promise to
+write if he gets well, and if he does get well then write to HIM, and
+tell him all about it."
+
+Dr. ---- acted on this shrewd advice, and ordered a bundle to be made up
+for the traveller out of the hospital stores: it contained a nice light
+summer suit and two changes of linen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+Next morning, Staines and Dick Dale walked through the streets of Cape
+Town side by side. Dick felt the uneasiness of a sane man, not familiar
+with the mentally afflicted, who suddenly finds himself alone with one.
+Insanity turns men oftenest into sheep and hares; but it does now and
+then make them wolves and tigers; and that has saddled the insane in
+general with a character for ferocity. Young Dale, then, cast many a
+suspicious glance at his comrade, as he took him along. These glances
+were reassuring: Christopher's face had no longer the mobility, the
+expressive changes, that mark the superior mind; his countenance was
+monotonous: but the one expression was engaging; there was a sweet,
+patient, lamb-like look: the glorious eye a little troubled and
+perplexed, but wonderfully mild. Dick Dale looked and looked, and his
+uneasiness vanished. And the more he looked, the more did a certain
+wonder creep over him, and make him scarce believe the thing he knew;
+viz., that a learned doctor had saved him from the jaws of death by rare
+knowledge, sagacity, courage, and skill combined: and that mighty man of
+wisdom was brought down to this lamb, and would go north, south, east,
+or west, with sweet and perfect submission, even as he, Dick Dale,
+should appoint. With these reflections honest Dick felt his eyes get a
+little misty, and, to use those words of Scripture, which nothing can
+surpass or equal, his bowels yearned over the man.
+
+As for Christopher, he looked straight forward, and said not a word till
+they cleared the town; but when he saw the vast flowery vale, and the
+far-off violet hills, like Scotland glorified, he turned to Dick with
+an ineffable expression of sweetness and good fellowship, and said, "Oh,
+beautiful! We'll hunt the past together."
+
+"We--will--SO," said Dick, with a sturdy and indeed almost a stern
+resolution.
+
+Now, this he said, not that he cared for the past, nor intended to waste
+the present by going upon its predecessor's trail; but he had come to a
+resolution--full three minutes ago--to humor his companion to the top
+of his bent, and say "Yes" with hypocritical vigor to everything not
+directly and immediately destructive to him and his.
+
+The next moment they turned a corner and came upon the rest of their
+party, hitherto hidden by the apricot hedge and a turning in the road.
+A blue-black Kafir, with two yellow Hottentot drivers, man and boy, was
+harnessing, in the most primitive mode, four horses on to the six oxen
+attached to the wagon; and the horses were flattening their ears,
+and otherwise resenting the incongruity. Meantime a fourth figure, a
+colossal young Kafir woman, looked on superior with folded arms, like a
+sable Juno looking down with that absolute composure upon the struggles
+of man and other animals, which Lucretius and his master Epicurus
+assigned to the Divine nature. Without jesting, the grandeur, majesty,
+and repose of this figure were unsurpassable in nature, and such as have
+vanished from sculpture two thousand years and more.
+
+Dick Dale joined the group immediately, and soon arranged the matter.
+Meantime, Phoebe descended from the wagon, and welcomed Christopher very
+kindly, and asked him if he would like to sit beside her, or to walk.
+
+He glanced into the wagon; it was covered and curtained, and dark as a
+cupboard. "I think," said he, timidly, "I shall see more of the past out
+here."
+
+"So you will, poor soul," said Phoebe kindly, "and better for your
+health: but you must not go far from the wagon, for I'm a fidget; and
+I have got the care of you now, you know, for want of a better. Come,
+Ucatella; you must ride with me, and help me sort the things; they are
+all higgledy-piggledy." So those two got into the wagon through the back
+curtains. Then the Kafir driver flourished his kambok, or long whip, in
+the air, and made it crack like a pistol, and the horses reared, and the
+oxen started and slowly bored in between them, for they whinnied, and
+kicked, and spread out like a fan all over the road; but a flick or
+two from the terrible kambok soon sent them bleeding and trembling and
+rubbing shoulders, and the oxen, mildly but persistently goring their
+recalcitrating haunches, the intelligent animals went ahead, and
+revenged themselves by breaking the harness. But that goes for little in
+Cape travel.
+
+The body of the wagon was long and low and very stout. The tilt strong
+and tight-made. The roof inside, and most of the sides, lined with green
+baize. Curtains of the same to the little window and the back. There
+was a sort of hold literally built full of purchases; a small fireproof
+safe; huge blocks of salt; saws, axes, pickaxes, adzes, flails, tools
+innumerable, bales of wool and linen stuff, hams, and two hundred empty
+sacks strewn over all. In large pigeon-holes fixed to the sides were
+light goods, groceries, collars, glaring cotton handkerchiefs for
+Phoebe's aboriginal domestics, since not every year did she go to Cape
+Town, a twenty days' journey by wagon: things dangled from the very
+roof; but no hard goods there, if you please, to batter one's head in a
+spill. Outside were latticed grooves with tent, tent-poles, and rifles.
+Great pieces of cork, and bags of hay and corn, hung dangling from
+mighty hooks--the latter to feed the cattle, should they be compelled
+to camp out on some sterile spot on the Veldt, and methinks to act
+as buffers, should the whole concern roll down a nullah or little
+precipice, no very uncommon incident in the blessed region they must
+pass to reach Dale's Kloof.
+
+Harness mended; fresh start. The Hottentots and Kafir vociferated and
+yelled, and made the unearthly row of a dozen wild beasts wrangling: the
+horses drew the bullocks, they the wagon; it crawled and creaked, and
+its appendages wobbled finely.
+
+Slowly they creaked and wobbled past apricot hedges and detached houses
+and huts, and got into an open country without a tree, but here and
+there a stunted camel-thorn. The soil was arid, and grew little food
+for man or beast; yet, by a singular freak of nature, it put forth
+abundantly things that here at home we find it harder to raise than
+homely grass and oats; the ground was thickly clad with flowers of
+delightful hues; pyramids of snow or rose-color bordered the track;
+yellow and crimson stars bejewelled the ground, and a thousand bulbous
+plants burst into all imaginable colors, and spread a rainbow carpet
+to the foot of the violet hills; and all this glowed, and gleamed, and
+glittered in a sun shining with incredible brightness and purity of
+light, but, somehow, without giving a headache or making the air sultry.
+
+Christopher fell to gathering flowers, and interrogating the past by
+means of them; for he had studied botany: the past gave him back some
+pitiably vague ideas. He sighed. "Never mind," said he to Dick, and
+tapped his forehead: "it is here: it is only locked up."
+
+"All right," said Dick; "nothing is lost when you know where 'tis."
+
+"This is a beautiful country," suggested Christopher. "It is all
+flowers. It is like the garden of--the garden of--locked up."
+
+"It is de--light--ful," replied the self-compelled optimist sturdily.
+But here nature gave way; he was obliged to relieve his agricultural
+bile by getting into the cart and complaining to his sister. "'Twill
+take us all our time to cure him. He have been bepraising this here
+soil, which it is only fit to clean the women's kettles. 'Twouldn't feed
+three larks to an acre, I know; no, NOR HALF SO MANY."
+
+"Poor soul! mayhap the flowers have took his eye. Sit here a bit, Dick.
+I want to talk to you about a many things."
+
+While these two were conversing, Ucatella, who was very fond of Phoebe,
+but abhorred wagons, stepped out and stalked by the side, like an
+ostrich, a camelopard, or a Taglioni; nor did the effort with which
+she subdued her stride to the pace of the procession appear: it was
+the poetry of walking. Christopher admired it a moment; but the noble
+expanse tempted him, and he strode forth like a giant, his lungs
+inflating in the glorious air, and soon left the wagon far behind.
+
+The consequence was that when they came to a halt, and Dick and Phoebe
+got out to release and water the cattle, there was Christopher's figure
+retiring into space.
+
+"Hanc rem aegre tulit Phoebe," as my old friend Livy would say. "Oh
+dear! oh dear! if he strays so far from us, he will be eaten up at
+nightfall by jackals, or lions, or something. One of you must go after
+him."
+
+"Me go, missy," said Ucatella zealously, pleased with an excuse for
+stretching her magnificent limbs.
+
+"Ay, but mayhap he will not come back with YOU: will he, Dick?"
+
+"That he will, like a lamb." Dick wanted to look after the cattle.
+
+"Yuke, my girl," said Phoebe, "listen. He has been a good friend of ours
+in trouble; and now he is not quite right HERE. So be very kind to him,
+but be sure and bring him back, or keep him till we come."
+
+"Me bring him back alive, certain sure," said Ucatella, smiling from ear
+to ear. She started with a sudden glide, like a boat taking the water,
+and appeared almost to saunter away, so easy was the motion; but when
+you looked at the ground she was covering, the stride, or glide, or
+whatever it was, was amazing.
+
+
+"She seem'd in walking to devour the way."
+
+
+Christopher walked fast, but nothing like this; and as he stopped at
+times to botanize and gaze at the violet hills, and interrogate the
+past, she came up with him about five miles from the halting-place.
+
+She laid her hand quietly on his shoulder, and said, with a broad genial
+smile, and a musical chuckle, "Ucatella come for you. Missy want to
+speak you."
+
+"Oh! very well;" and he turned back with her, directly; but she took him
+by the hand to make sure; and they marched back peaceably, in silence,
+and hand in hand. But he looked and looked at her, and at last he
+stopped dead short, and said, a little arrogantly, "Come, I know YOU.
+YOU are not locked up;" and he inspected her point-blank. She stood
+like an antique statue, and faced the examination. "You are 'the noble
+savage,'" said he, having concluded his inspection.
+
+"Nay," said she. "I be the housemaid."
+
+"The housemaid?"
+
+"Iss, the housemaid, Ucatella. So come on." And she drew him along, sore
+perplexed.
+
+They met the cavalcade a mile from the halting-place, and Phoebe
+apologized a little to Christopher. "I hope you'll excuse me, sir," said
+she, "but I am just for all the world like a hen with her chickens; if
+but one strays, I'm all in a flutter till I get him back."
+
+"Madam," said Christopher, "I am very unhappy at the way things are
+locked up. Please tell me truly, is this 'the housemaid,' or 'the noble
+savage'?"
+
+"Well, she is both, if you go to that, and the best creature ever
+breathed."
+
+"Then she IS 'the noble savage'?"
+
+"Ay, so they call her, because she is black."
+
+"Then, thank Heaven," said Christopher, "the past is not all locked up."
+
+That afternoon they stopped at an inn. But Dick slept in the cart.
+At three in the morning they took the road again, and creaked along
+supernaturally loud under a purple firmament studded with huge stars,
+all bright as moons, that lit the way quite clear, and showed black
+things innumerable flitting to and fro; these made Phoebe shudder,
+but were no doubt harmless; still Dick carried his double rifle, and a
+revolver in his belt.
+
+They made a fine march in the cool, until some slight mists gathered,
+and then they halted and breakfasted near a silvery kloof, and watered
+the cattle. While thus employed, suddenly a golden tinge seemed to
+fall like a lash on the vapors of night; they scudded away directly, as
+jackals before the lion; the stars paled, and with one incredible bound,
+the mighty sun leaped into the horizon, and rose into the sky. In a
+moment all the lesser lamps of heaven were out, though late so glorious,
+and there was nothing but one vast vaulted turquoise, and a great
+flaming topaz mounting with eternal ardor to its centre.
+
+This did not escape Christopher. "What is this?" said he. "No twilight.
+The tropics!" He managed to dig that word out of the past in a moment.
+
+At ten o'clock the sun was so hot that they halted, and let the oxen
+loose till sun-down. Then they began to climb the mountains.
+
+The way was steep and rugged; indeed, so rough in places, that the
+cattle had to jump over the holes, and as the wagon could not jump so
+cleverly, it jolted appallingly, and many a scream issued forth.
+
+Near the summit, when the poor beasts were dead beat, they got into
+clouds and storms, and the wind rushed howling at them through the
+narrow pass with such fury it flattened the horses' ears, and bade fair
+to sweep the whole cavalcade to the plains below.
+
+Christopher and Dick walked close behind, under the lee of the wagon.
+Christopher said in Dick's ear, "D'ye hear that? Time to reef topsails,
+captain."
+
+"It is time to do SOMETHING," said Dick. He took advantage of a jutting
+rock, drew the wagon half behind it and across the road, propped the
+wheels with stones, and they all huddled to leeward, man and beast
+indiscriminately.
+
+"Ah!" said Christopher, approvingly; "we are lying to: a
+very--proper--course."
+
+They huddled and shivered three hours, and then the sun leaped into the
+sky, and lo! a transformation scene. The cold clouds were first rosy
+fleeces, then golden ones, then gold-dust, then gone; the rain was
+big diamonds, then crystal sparks, then gone; the rocks and the bushes
+sparkled with gem-like drops, and shone and smiled.
+
+The shivering party bustled, and toasted the potent luminary in hot
+coffee; for Phoebe's wagon had a stove and chimney; and then they yoked
+their miscellaneous cattle again, and breasted the hill. With many
+a jump, and bump, and jolt, and scream from inside, they reached the
+summit, and looked down on a vast slope, flowering but arid, a region of
+gaudy sterility.
+
+The descent was more tremendous than the ascent, and Phoebe got out,
+and told Christopher she would liever cross the ocean twice than this
+dreadful mountain once.
+
+The Hottentot with the reins was now bent like a bow all the time,
+keeping the cattle from flowing diverse over precipices, and the Kafir
+with his kambok was here, and there, and everywhere, his whip flicking
+like a lancet, and cracking like a horse-pistol, and the pair vied like
+Apollo and Pan, not which could sing sweetest, but swear loudest. Having
+the lofty hill for some hours between them and the sun, they bumped, and
+jolted, and stuck in mud-holes, and flogged and swore the cattle out
+of them again, till at last they got to the bottom, where ran a turbid
+kloof or stream. It was fordable, but the recent rains had licked away
+the slope; so the existing bank was two feet above the stream. Little
+recked the demon drivers or the parched cattle; in they plunged
+promiscuously, with a flop like thunder, followed by an awful splashing.
+The wagon stuck fast in the mud, the horses tied themselves in a knot,
+and rolled about in the stream, and the oxen drank imperturbably.
+
+"Oh, the salt! the salt!" screamed Phoebe, and the rocks re-echoed her
+lamentations.
+
+The wagon was inextricable, the cattle done up, the savages lazy, so
+they stayed for several hours. Christopher botanized, but not alone.
+Phoebe drew Ucatella apart, and explained to her that when a man is a
+little wrong in the head, it makes a child of him: "So," said she, "you
+must think he is your child, and never let him out of your sight."
+
+"All right," said the sable Juno, who spoke English ridiculously well,
+and rapped out idioms; especially "Come on," and "All right."
+
+About dusk, what the drivers had foreseen, though they had not the sense
+to explain it, took place; the kloof dwindled to a mere gutter, and the
+wagon stuck high and dry. Phoebe waved her handkerchief to Ucatella.
+Ucatella, who had dogged Christopher about four hours without a word,
+now took his hand, and said, "My child, missy wants us; come on;" and so
+led him unresistingly.
+
+The drivers, flogging like devils, cursing like troopers, and yelling
+like hyenas gone mad, tried to get the wagon off; but it was fast as a
+rock. Then Dick and the Hottentot put their shoulders to one wheel, and
+tried to prise it up, while the Kafir ENCOURAGED the cattle with his
+thong. Observing this, Christopher went in, with his sable custodian at
+his heels, and heaved at the other embedded wheel. The wagon was lifted
+directly, so that the cattle tugged it out, and they got clear. On
+examination, the salt had just escaped.
+
+Says Ucatella to Phoebe, a little ostentatiously, "My child is strong
+and useful; make little missy a good slave."
+
+"A slave! Heaven forbid!" said Phoebe. "He'll be a father to us all,
+once he gets his head back; and I do think it is coming--but very slow."
+
+The next three days offered the ordinary incidents of African travel,
+but nothing that operated much on Christopher's mind, which is the
+true point of this narrative; and as there are many admirable books of
+African travel, it is the more proper I should confine myself to what
+may be called the relevant incidents of the journey.
+
+On the sixth day from Cape Town, they came up with a large wagon stuck
+in a mud-hole. There was quite a party of Boers, Hottentots, Kafirs,
+round it, armed with whips, shamboks, and oaths, lashing and cursing
+without intermission, or any good effect; and there were the wretched
+beasts straining in vain at their choking yokes, moaning with anguish,
+trembling with terror, their poor mild eyes dilated with agony and fear,
+and often, when the blows of the cruel shamboks cut open their bleeding
+flesh, they bellowed to Heaven their miserable and vain protest against
+this devil's work.
+
+Then the past opened its stores, and lent Christopher a word.
+
+"BARBARIANS!" he roared, and seized a gigantic Kafir by the throat,
+just as his shambok descended for the hundredth time. There was a mighty
+struggle, as of two Titans; dust flew round the combatants in a cloud; a
+whirling of big bodies, and down they both went with an awful thud, the
+Saxon uppermost, by Nature's law.
+
+The Kafir's companions, amazed at first, began to roll their eyes and
+draw a knife or two; but Dick ran forward, and said, "Don't hurt him: he
+is wrong HERE."
+
+This representation pacified them more readily than one might have
+expected. Dick added hastily, "We'll get you out of the hole OUR way,
+and cry quits."
+
+The proposal was favorably received, and the next minute Christopher and
+Ucatella at one wheel, and Dick and the Hottentot at the other, with no
+other help than two pointed iron bars bought for their shepherds, had
+effected what sixteen oxen could not. To do this Dick Dale had bared his
+arm to the shoulder; it was a stalwart limb, like his sister's, and he
+now held it out all swollen and corded, and slapped it with his other
+hand. "Look'ee here, you chaps," said he: "the worst use a man can put
+that there to is to go cutting out a poor beast's heart for not doing
+more than he can. You are good fellows, you Kafirs; but I think you have
+sworn never to put your shoulder to a wheel. But, bless your poor silly
+hearts, a little strength put on at the right place is better than a
+deal at the wrong."
+
+"You hear that, you Kafir chaps?" inquired Ucatella, a little
+arrogantly--for a Kafir.
+
+The Kafirs, who had stood quite silent to imbibe these remarks, bowed
+their heads with all the dignity and politeness of Roman senators,
+Spanish grandees, etc.; and one of the party replied gravely, "The words
+of the white man are always wise."
+
+"And his arm blanked* strong," said Christopher's late opponent, from
+whose mind, however, all resentment had vanished.
+
+     * I take this very useful expression from a delightful
+     volume by Mr. Boyle.
+
+Thus spake the Kafirs; yet to this day never hath a man of all their
+tribe put his shoulder to a wheel, so strong is custom in South Africa;
+probably in all Africa; since I remember St. Augustin found it stronger
+than he liked, at Carthage.
+
+Ucatella went to Phoebe, and said, "Missy, my child is good and brave."
+
+"Bother you and your child!" said poor Phoebe. "To think of his flying
+at a giant like that, and you letting of him. I'm all of a tremble from
+head to foot:" and Phoebe relieved herself with a cry.
+
+"Oh, missy!" said Ucatella.
+
+"There, never mind me. Do go and look after your child, and keep him out
+of more mischief. I wish we were safe at Dale's Kloof, I do."
+
+Ucatella complied, and went botanizing with Dr. Staines; but that
+gentleman, in the course of his scientific researches into camomile
+flowers and blasted heath, which were all that lovely region afforded,
+suddenly succumbed and stretched out his limbs, and said, sleepily,
+"Good-night--U--cat--" and was off into the land of Nod.
+
+The wagon, which, by the way, had passed the larger but slower vehicle,
+found him fast asleep, and Ucatella standing by him as ordered,
+motionless and grand.
+
+"Oh, dear! what now?" said Phoebe: but being a sensible woman, though
+in the hen and chickens line, she said, "'Tis the fighting and the
+excitement. 'Twill do him more good than harm, I think:" and she had him
+bestowed in the wagon, and never disturbed him night nor day. He slept
+thirty-six hours at a stretch; and when he awoke, she noticed a slight
+change in his eye. He looked at her with an interest he had not shown
+before, and said, "Madam, I know you."
+
+"Thank God for that," said Phoebe.
+
+"You kept a little shop, in the other world."
+
+Phoebe opened her eyes with some little alarm.
+
+"You understand--the world that is locked up--for the present."
+
+"Well, sir, so I did; and sold you milk and butter. Don't you mind?"
+
+"No--the milk and butter--they are locked up."
+
+The country became wilder, the signs of life miserably sparse; about
+every twenty miles the farmhouse or hut of a degenerate Boer, whose
+children and slaves pigged together, and all ran jostling, and the
+mistress screamed in her shrill Dutch, and the Hottentots all chirped
+together, and confusion reigned for want of method: often they went
+miles, and saw nothing but a hut or two, with a nude Hottentot eating
+flesh, burnt a little, but not cooked, at the door; and the kloofs
+became deeper and more turbid, and Phoebe was in an agony about her
+salt, and Christopher advised her to break it in big lumps, and hang it
+all about the wagon in sacks; and she did, and Ucatella said profoundly,
+"My child is wise;" and they began to draw near home, and Phoebe to
+fidget; and she said to Christopher, "Oh, dear! I hope they are all
+alive and well: once you leave home, you don't know what may have
+happened by then you come back. One comfort, I've got Sophy: she is very
+dependable, and no beauty, thank my stars."
+
+That night, the last they had to travel, was cloudy, for a wonder, and
+they groped with lanterns.
+
+Ucatella and her child brought up the rear. Presently there was a light
+pattering behind them. The swift-eared Ucatella clutched Christopher's
+arm, and turning round, pointed back, with eyeballs white and rolling.
+There were full a dozen animals following them, whose bodies seemed
+colorless as shadows, but their eyes little balls of flaming lime-light.
+
+"GUN!" said Christie, and gave the Kafir's arm a pinch. She flew to the
+caravan; he walked backwards, facing the foe. The wagon was halted,
+and Dick ran back with two loaded rifles. In his haste he gave one
+to Christopher, and repented at leisure; but Christopher took it,
+and handled it like an experienced person, and said, with delight,
+"VOLUNTEER." But with this the cautious animals had vanished like
+bubbles. But Dick told Christopher they would be sure to come back; he
+ordered Ucatella into the wagon, and told her to warn Phoebe not to
+be frightened if guns should be fired. This soothing message brought
+Phoebe's white face out between the curtains, and she implored them to
+get into the wagon, and not tempt Providence.
+
+"Not till I have got thee a kaross of jackal's fur."
+
+"I'll never wear it!" said Phoebe violently, to divert him from his
+purpose.
+
+"Time will show," said Dick dryly. "These varmint are on and off
+like shadows, and as cunning as Old Nick. We two will walk on quite
+unconcerned like, and as soon as ever the varmint are at our heels you
+give us the office; and we'll pepper their fur--won't we, doctor?"
+
+"We--will--pepper--their fur," said Christopher, repeating what to him
+was a lesson in the ancient and venerable English tongue.
+
+So they walked on expectant; and by and by the four-footed shadows with
+large lime-light eyes came stealing on; and Phoebe shrieked, and they
+vanished before the men could draw a bead on them.
+
+"Thou's no use at this work, Pheeb," said Dick. "Shut thy eyes, and let
+us have Yuke."
+
+"Iss, master: here I be."
+
+"You can bleat like a lamb; for I've heard ye."
+
+"Iss, master. I bleats beautiful;" and she showed snowy teeth from ear
+to ear.
+
+"Well, then, when the varmint are at our heels, draw in thy woolly head,
+and bleat like a young lamb. They won't turn from that, I know, the
+vagabonds."
+
+Matters being thus prepared, they sauntered on; but the jackals were
+very wary. They came like shadows, so departed--a great many times: but
+at last being re-enforced, they lessened the distance, and got so close,
+that Ucatella withdrew her head, and bleated faintly inside the wagon.
+The men turned, levelling their rifles, and found the troop within
+twenty yards of them. They wheeled directly: but the four barrels poured
+their flame, four loud reports startled the night, and one jackal lay
+dead as a stone, another limped behind the flying crowd, and one lay
+kicking. He was soon despatched, and both carcasses flung over the
+patient oxen; and good-by jackals for the rest of that journey.
+
+Ucatella, with all a Kafir's love of fire-arms, clapped her hands with
+delight. "My child shoots loud and strong," said she.
+
+"Ay, ay," replied Phoebe; "they are all alike; wherever there's men,
+look for quarrelling and firing off. We had only to sit quiet in the
+wagon."
+
+"Ay." said Dick, "the cattle especially--for it is them the varmint were
+after--and let 'em eat my Hottentots."
+
+At this picture of the cattle inside the wagon, and the jackals supping
+on cold Hottentot alongside, Phoebe, who had no more humor than a cat,
+but a heart of gold, shut up, and turned red with confusion at her false
+estimate of the recent transaction in fur.
+
+When the sun rose they found themselves in a tract somewhat less arid
+and inhuman; and, at last, at the rise of a gentle slope, they saw, half
+a mile before them, a large farmhouse partly clad with creepers, and a
+little plot of turf, the fruit of eternal watering; item, a flower-bed;
+item, snow-white palings; item, an air of cleanliness and neatness
+scarcely known to those dirty descendants of clean ancestors, the Boers.
+At some distance a very large dam glittered in the sun, and a troop of
+snow-white sheep were watering at it.
+
+"ENGLAND!" cried Christopher.
+
+"Ay, sir," said Phoebe; "as nigh as man can make it." But soon she began
+to fret: "Oh, dear! where are they all? If it was me, I'd be at the door
+looking out. Ah, there goes Yuke to rouse them up."
+
+"Come, Pheeb, don't you fidget," said Dick kindly. "Why, the lazy lot
+are scarce out of their beds by this time."
+
+"More shame for 'em. If they were away from me, and coming home, I
+should be at the door day AND night, I know. Ah!"
+
+She uttered a scream of delight, for just then, out came Ucatella, with
+little Tommy on her shoulder, and danced along to meet her. As she came
+close, she raised the chubby child high in the air, and he crowed;
+and then she lowered him to his mother, who rushed at him, seized,
+and devoured him with a hundred inarticulate cries of joy and love
+unspeakable.
+
+"NATURE!" said Christopher dogmatically, recognizing an old
+acquaintance, and booking it as one more conquest gained over the past.
+But there was too much excitement over the cherub to attend to him. So
+he watched the woman gravely, and began to moralize with all his might.
+"This," said he, "is what we used to call maternal love; and all animals
+had it, and that is why the noble savage went for him. It was very good
+of you, Miss Savage," said the poor soul sententiously.
+
+"Good of her!" cried Phoebe. "She is all goodness. Savage, find me a
+Dutchwoman like her! I'll give her a good cuddle for it;" and she took
+the Kafir round the neck, and gave her a hearty kiss, and made the
+little boy kiss her too.
+
+At this moment out came a collie dog, hunting Ucatella by scent alone,
+which process landed him headlong in the group; he gave loud barks of
+recognition, fawned on Phoebe and Dick, smelt poor Christopher, gave
+a growl of suspicion, and lurked about squinting, dissatisfied, and
+lowering his tail.
+
+"Thou art wrong, lad, for once," said Dick; "for he's an old friend, and
+a good one."
+
+"After the dog, perhaps some Christian will come to welcome us," said
+poor Phoebe.
+
+Obedient to the wish, out walked Sophy, the English nurse, a scraggy
+woman, with a very cocked nose and thin, pinched lips, and an air of
+respectability and pertness mingled. She dropped a short courtesy, shot
+the glance of a basilisk at Ucatella, and said stiffly, "You are welcome
+home, ma'am." Then she took the little boy as one having authority.
+Not that Phoebe would have surrendered him; but just then Mr. Falcon
+strolled out, with a cigar in his mouth, and Phoebe, with her heart in
+HER mouth, flew to meet him. There was a rapturous conjugal embrace,
+followed by mutual inquiries; and the wagon drew up at the door. Then,
+for the first time, Falcon observed Staines, saw at once he was a
+gentleman, and touched his hat to him, to which Christopher responded in
+kind, and remembered he had done so in the locked-up past.
+
+Phoebe instantly drew her husband apart by the sleeve. "Who do you think
+that is? You'll never guess. 'Tis the great doctor that saved Dick's
+life in England with cutting of his throat. But, oh, my dear, he is not
+the man he was. He is afflicted. Out of his mind partly. Well, we must
+cure him, and square the account for Dick. I'm a proud woman at finding
+him, and bringing him here to make him all right again, I can tell you.
+Oh, I am happy, I am happy. Little did I think to be so happy as I am.
+And, my dear, I have brought you a whole sackful of newspapers, old and
+new."
+
+"That is a good girl. But tell me a little more about him. What is his
+name?"
+
+"Christie."
+
+"Dr. Christie?"
+
+"No doubt. He wasn't an apothecary, or a chemist, you may be sure, but
+a high doctor, and the cleverest ever was or ever will be: and isn't it
+sad, love, to see him brought down so? My heart yearns for the poor
+man: and then his wife--the sweetest, loveliest creature you ever--oh!"
+Phoebe stopped very short, for she remembered something all of a sudden;
+nor did she ever again give Falcon a chance of knowing that the woman,
+whose presence had so disturbed him, was this very Dr. Christie's wife.
+"Curious!" thought she to herself, "the world to be so large, and yet so
+small:" then aloud, "They are unpacking the wagon; come, dear. I don't
+think I have forgotten anything of yours. There's cigars, and
+tobacco, and powder, and shot, and bullets, and everything to make you
+comfortable, as my duty 'tis; and--oh, but I'm a happy woman."
+
+Hottentots, big and little, clustered about the wagon. Treasure after
+treasure was delivered with cries of delight; the dogs found out it was
+a joyful time, and barked about the wheeled treasury; and the place did
+not quiet down till sunset.
+
+A plain but tidy little room was given to Christopher, and he slept
+there like a top. Next morning his nurse called him up to help her water
+the grass. She led the way with a tub on her head and two buckets in it.
+She took him to the dam; when she got there she took out the buckets,
+left one on the bank, and gave the other to Christie. She then went down
+the steps till the water was up to her neck, and bade Christie fill the
+tub. He poured eight bucketsful in. Then she came slowly out, straight
+as an arrow, balancing this tub full on her head. Then she held out her
+hands for the two buckets. Christie filled them, wondering, and gave
+them to her. She took them like toy buckets, and glided slowly home with
+this enormous weight, and never spilled a drop. Indeed, the walk was
+more smooth and noble than ever, if possible.
+
+When she reached the house, she hailed a Hottentot, and it cost the
+man and Christopher a great effort of strength to lower her tub between
+them.
+
+"What a vertebral column you must have!" said Christopher.
+
+"You must not speak bad words, my child," said she. "Now, you water the
+grass and the flowers." She gave him a watering-pot, and watched him
+maternally; but did not put a hand to it. She evidently considered this
+part of the business as child's play, and not a fit exercise of her
+powers.
+
+It was only by drowning that little oasis twice a day that the grass was
+kept green and the flowers alive.
+
+She found him other jobs in course of the day, and indeed he was always
+helping somebody or other, and became quite ruddy, bronzed, and plump of
+cheek, and wore a strange look of happiness, except at times when he
+got apart, and tried to recall the distant past. Then he would knit his
+brow, and looked perplexed and sad.
+
+They were getting quite used to him, and he to them, when one day he did
+not come in to dinner. Phoebe sent out for him; but they could not find
+him.
+
+The sun set. Phoebe became greatly alarmed, and even Dick was anxious.
+
+They all turned out, with guns and dogs, and hunted for him beneath the
+stars.
+
+Just before daybreak Dick Dale saw a fire sparkle by the side of a
+distant thicket. He went to it, and there was Ucatella seated, calm and
+grand as antique statue, and Christopher lying by her side, with a shawl
+thrown over him. As Dale came hurriedly up, she put her finger to her
+lips, and said, "My child sleeps. Do not wake him. When he sleeps, he
+hunts the past, as Collie hunts the springbok."
+
+"Here's a go," said Dick. Then, hearing a chuckle, he looked up, and was
+aware of a comical appendage to the scene. There hung, head downwards,
+from a branch, a Kafir boy, who was, in fact, the brother of the stately
+Ucatella, only went further into antiquity for his models of deportment;
+for, as she imitated the antique marbles, he reproduced the habits of
+that epoch when man roosted, and was arboreal. Wheel somersaults, and,
+above all, swinging head downwards from a branch, were the sweeteners of
+his existence.
+
+"Oh! YOU are there, are you?" said Dick.
+
+"Iss," said Ucatella. "Tim good boy. Tim found my child."
+
+"Well," said Dick, "he has chosen a nice place. This is the clump the
+last lion came out of, at least they say so. For my part, I never saw
+an African lion; Falcon says they've all took ship, and gone to England.
+However, I shall stay here with my rifle till daybreak. 'Tis tempting
+Providence to lie down on the skirt of a wood for Lord knows what to
+jump out on ye unawares."
+
+Tim was sent home for Hottentots, and Christopher was carried home,
+still sleeping, and laid on his own bed.
+
+He slept twenty-four hours more, and, when he was fairly awake, a sort
+of mist seemed to clear away in places, and he remembered things at
+random. He remembered being at sea on the raft with the dead body;
+that picture was quite vivid to him. He remembered, too, being in the
+hospital, and meeting Phoebe, and every succeeding incident; but as
+respected the more distant past, he could not recall it by any effort
+of his will. His mind could only go into that remoter past by material
+stepping-stones; and what stepping-stones he had about him here led him
+back to general knowledge, but not to his private history.
+
+In this condition he puzzled them all strangely at the farm; his mind
+was alternately so clear and so obscure. He would chat with Phoebe, and
+sometimes give her a good practical hint; but the next moment, helpless
+for want of memory, that great faculty without which judgment cannot
+act, having no material.
+
+After some days of this, he had another great sleep. It brought him back
+the distant past in chapters. His wedding-day. His wife's face and dress
+upon that day. His parting with her: his whole voyage out: but, strange
+to say, it swept away one-half of that which he had recovered at his
+last sleep, and he no longer remembered clearly how he came to be at
+Dale's Kloof.
+
+Thus his mind might be compared to one climbing a slippery place, who
+gains a foot or two, then slips back; but on the whole gains more than
+he loses.
+
+He took a great liking to Falcon. That gentleman had the art of
+pleasing, and the tact never to offend.
+
+Falcon affected to treat the poor soul's want of memory as a common
+infirmity; pretended he was himself very often troubled in the same way,
+and advised him to read the newspapers. "My good wife," said he, "has
+brought me a whole file of the Cape Gazette. I'd read them if I was you.
+The deuce is in it, if you don't rake up something or other."
+
+Christopher thanked him warmly for this: he got the papers to his own
+little room, and had always one or two in his pocket for reading. At
+first he found a good many hard words that puzzled him; and he borrowed
+a pencil of Phoebe, and noted them down. Strange to say, the words that
+puzzled him were always common words, that his unaccountable memory had
+forgotten: a hard word, he was sure to remember that.
+
+One day he had to ask Falcon the meaning of "spendthrift." Falcon told
+him briefly. He could have illustrated the word by a striking example;
+but he did not. He added, in his polite way, "No fellow can understand
+all the words in a newspaper. Now, here's a word in mine--'Anemometer;'
+who the deuce can understand such a word?"
+
+"Oh, THAT is a common word enough," said poor Christopher. "It means a
+machine for measuring the force of the wind."
+
+"Oh, indeed," said Falcon; but did not believe a word of it.
+
+One sultry day Christopher had a violent headache, and complained
+to Ucatella. She told Phoebe, and they bound his brows with a wet
+handkerchief, and advised him to keep in-doors. He sat down in the
+coolest part of the house, and held his head with his hands, for it
+seemed as if it would explode into two great fragments.
+
+All in a moment the sky was overcast with angry clouds, whirling this
+way and that. Huge drops of hail pattered down, and the next minute came
+a tremendous flash of lightning, accompanied, rather than followed, by a
+crash of thunder close over their heads.
+
+This was the opening. Down came a deluge out of clouds that looked
+mountains of pitch, and made the day night but for the fast and furious
+strokes of lightning that fired the air. The scream of wind and awful
+peals of thunder completed the horrors of the scene.
+
+In the midst of this, by what agency I know no more than science or
+a sheep does, something went off inside Christopher's head, like a
+pistol-shot. He gave a sort of scream, and dashed out into the weather.
+
+Phoebe heard his scream and his flying footstep, and uttered an
+ejaculation of fear. The whole household was alarmed, and, under other
+circumstances, would have followed him; but you could not see ten yards.
+
+A chill sense of impending misfortune settled on the house. Phoebe threw
+her apron over her head, and rocked in her chair.
+
+Dick himself looked very grave.
+
+Ucatella would have tried to follow him; but Dick forbade her. "'Tis no
+use," said he. "When it clears, we that be men will go for him."
+
+"Pray Heaven you may find him alive!"
+
+"I don't think but what we shall. There's nowhere he can fall down to
+hurt himself, nor yet drown himself, but our dam; and he has not gone
+that way. But"--
+
+"But what?"
+
+"If we do find him, we must take him back to Cape Town, before he does
+himself, or some one, a mischief. Why, Phoebe, don't you see the man has
+gone raving mad?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+The electrified man rushed out into the storm, but he scarcely felt
+it in his body; the effect on his mind overpowered hail-stones. The
+lightning seemed to light up the past; the mighty explosions of thunder
+seemed cannon strokes knocking down a wall, and letting in his whole
+life.
+
+Six hours the storm raged, and, before it ended, he had recovered nearly
+his whole past, except his voyage with Captain Dodd--that, indeed, he
+never recovered--and the things that happened to him in the hospital
+before he met Phoebe Falcon and her brother: and as soon as he had
+recovered his lost memory, his body began to shiver at the hail and
+rain. He tried to find his way home, but missed it; not so much,
+however, but that he recovered it as soon as it began to clear, and
+just as they were coming out to look for him, he appeared before them,
+dripping, shivering, very pale and worn, with the handkerchief still
+about his head.
+
+At sight of him, Dick slipped back to his sister, and said, rather
+roughly, "There now, you may leave off crying: he is come home; and
+to-morrow I take him to Cape Town."
+
+Christopher crept in, a dismal, sinister figure.
+
+"Oh, sir," said Phoebe, "was this a day for a Christian to be out in?
+How could you go and frighten us so?"
+
+"Forgive me, madam," said Christopher humbly; "I was not myself."
+
+"The best thing you can do now is to go to bed, and let us send you up
+something warm."
+
+"You are very good," said Christopher, and retired with the air of one
+too full of great amazing thoughts to gossip.
+
+He slept thirty hours at a stretch, and then, awaking in the dead of
+night, he saw the past even more clear and vivid; he lighted his candle
+and began to grope in the Cape Gazette. As to dates, he now remembered
+when he had sailed from England, and also from Madeira. Following up
+this clew, he found in the Gazette a notice that H. M. ship Amphitrite
+had been spoken off the Cape, and had reported the melancholy loss of a
+promising physician and man of science, Dr. Staines.
+
+The account said every exertion had been made to save him, but in vain.
+
+Staines ground his teeth with rage at this. "Every exertion! the
+false-hearted curs. They left me to drown, without one manly effort to
+save me. Curse them, and curse all the world."
+
+Pursuing his researches rapidly, he found a much longer account of a
+raft picked up by Captain Dodd, with a white man on it and a dead body,
+the white man having on him a considerable sum in money and jewels.
+
+Then a new anxiety chilled him. There was not a word to identify him
+with Dr. Staines. The idea had never occurred to the editor of the Cape
+Gazette. Still less would it occur to any one in England. At this moment
+his wife must be mourning for him. "Poor--poor Rosa!"
+
+But perhaps the fatal news might not have reached her.
+
+That hope was dashed away as soon as found. Why, these were all OLD
+NEWSPAPERS. That gentlemanly man who had lent them to him had said so.
+
+Old! yet they completed the year 1867.
+
+He now tore through them for the dates alone, and soon found they went
+to 1868. Yet they were old papers. He had sailed in May, 1867.
+
+"My God!" he cried, in agony, "I HAVE LOST A YEAR."
+
+This thought crushed him. By and by he began to carry this awful idea
+into details. "My Rosa has worn mourning for me, and put it off again. I
+am dead to her, and to all the world."
+
+He wept long and bitterly.
+
+Those tears cleared his brain still more. For all that, he was not yet
+himself; at least, I doubt it; his insanity, driven from the intellect,
+fastened one lingering claw into his moral nature, and hung on by it.
+His soul filled with bitterness and a desire to be revenged on mankind
+for their injustice, and this thought possessed him more than reason.
+
+He joined the family at breakfast; and never a word all the time. But
+when he got up to go, he said, in a strange, dogged way, as if it went
+against the grain, "God bless the house that succors the afflicted."
+Then he went out to brood alone.
+
+"Dick," said Phoebe, "there's a change. I'll never part with him: and
+look, there's Collie following him, that never could abide him."
+
+"Part with him?" said Reginald. "Of course not. He is a gentleman, and
+they are not so common in Africa."
+
+Dick, who hated Falcon, ignored this speech entirely, and said, "Well,
+Pheeb, you and Collie are wiser than I am. Take your own way, and don't
+blame me if anything happens."
+
+Soon Christopher paid the penalty of returning reason. He suffered all
+the poignant agony a great heart can endure.
+
+So this was his reward for his great act of self-denial in leaving his
+beloved wife. He had lost his patient; he had lost the income from that
+patient; his wife was worse off than before, and had doubtless suffered
+the anguish of a loving heart bereaved. His mind, which now seemed more
+vigorous than ever, after its long rest, placed her before his very
+eyes, pale, and worn with grief, in her widow's cap.
+
+At the picture, he cried like the rain. He could give her joy, by
+writing; but he could not prevent her from suffering a whole year of
+misery.
+
+Turning this over in connection with their poverty, his evil genius
+whispered, "By this time she has received the six thousand pounds for
+your death. SHE would never think of that; but her father has: and there
+is her comfort assured, in spite of the caitiffs who left her husband to
+drown like a dog.
+
+"I know my Rosa," he thought. "She has swooned--ah, my poor darling--she
+has raved--she has wept," he wept himself at the thought--"she has
+mourned every indiscreet act, as if it was a crime. But she HAS done
+all this. Her good and loving but shallow nature is now at rest from the
+agonies of bereavement, and nought remains but sad and tender regrets.
+She can better endure that than poverty: cursed poverty, which has
+brought her and me to this, and is the only real evil in the world, but
+bodily pain."
+
+Then came a struggle, that lasted a whole week, and knitted his brows,
+and took the color from his cheek; but it ended in the triumph of love
+and hate, over conscience and common sense. His Rosa should not be poor;
+and he would cheat some of those contemptible creatures called men, who
+had done him nothing but injustice, and at last had sacrificed his life
+like a rat's.
+
+When the struggle was over, and the fatal resolution taken, then he
+became calmer, less solitary, and more sociable.
+
+Phoebe, who was secretly watching him with a woman's eye, observed this
+change in him, and, with benevolent intentions, invited him one day to
+ride round the farm with her. He consented readily. She showed him the
+fields devoted to maize and wheat, and then the sheepfolds. Tim's sheep
+were apparently deserted; but he was discovered swinging head downwards
+from the branch of a camel-thorn, and seeing him, it did strike one that
+if he had had a tail he would have been swinging by that. Phoebe called
+to him: he never answered, but set off running to her, and landed
+himself under her nose in a wheel somersault.
+
+"I hope you are watching them, Tim," said his mistress.
+
+"Iss, missy, always washing 'em."
+
+"Why, there's one straying towards the wood now."
+
+"He not go far," said Tim coolly. The young monkey stole off a little
+way, then fell flat, and uttered the cry of a jackal, with startling
+precision. Back went the sheep to his comrades post haste, and Tim
+effected a somersault and a chuckle.
+
+"You are a clever boy," said Phoebe. "So that is how you manage them."
+
+"Dat one way, missy," said Tim, not caring to reveal all his resources
+at once.
+
+Then Phoebe rode on, and showed Christopher the ostrich pan. It was
+a large basin, a form the soil often takes in these parts; and in it
+strutted several full-grown ostriches and their young, bred on the
+premises. There was a little dam of water, and plenty of food about.
+They were herded by a Kafir infant of about six, black, glossy, fat, and
+clean, being in the water six times a day.
+
+Sometimes one of the older birds would show an inclination to stray out
+of the pan. Then the infant rolled after her, and tapped her ankles with
+a wand. She instantly came back, but without any loss of dignity, for
+she strutted with her nose in the air, affecting completely to ignore
+the inferior little animal, that was nevertheless controlling her
+movements. "There's a farce," said Phoebe. "But you would not believe
+the money they cost me, nor the money they bring me in. Grain will not
+sell here for a quarter its value: and we can't afford to send it to
+Cape Town, twenty days and back; but finery, that sells everywhere. I
+gather sixty pounds the year off those poor fowls' backs--clear profit."
+
+She showed him the granary, and told him there wasn't such another in
+Africa. This farm had belonged to one of the old Dutch settlers, and
+that breed had been going down this many a year. "You see, sir, Dick
+and I being English, and not downright in want of money, we can't bring
+ourselves to sell grain to the middlemen for nothing, so we store it,
+hoping for better times, that maybe will never come. Now I'll show you
+how the dam is made."
+
+They inspected the dam all round. "This is our best friend of all," said
+she. "Without this the sun would turn us all to tinder,--crops, flowers,
+beasts, and folk."
+
+"Oh, indeed," said Staines. "Then it is a pity you have not built it
+more scientifically. I must have a look at this."
+
+"Ay do, sir, and advise us if you see anything wrong. But hark! it is
+milking time. Come and see that." So she led the way to some sheds, and
+there they found several cows being milked, each by a little calf and a
+little Hottentot at the same time, and both fighting and jostling each
+other for the udder. Now and then a young cow, unused to incongruous
+twins, would kick impatiently at both animals and scatter them.
+
+"That is their way," said Phoebe: "they have got it into their silly
+Hottentot heads as kye won't yield their milk if the calf is taken away;
+and it is no use arguing with 'em; they will have their own way; but
+they are very trusty and honest, poor things. We soon found that out.
+When we came here first it was in a hired wagon, and Hottentot drivers:
+so when we came to settle I made ready for a bit of a wrangle. But my
+maid Sophy, that is nurse now, and a great despiser of heathens, she
+says, 'Don't you trouble; them nasty ignorant blacks never charges more
+than their due.' 'I forgive 'em,' says I; 'I wish all white folk was as
+nice.' However, I did give them a trifle over, for luck: and then they
+got together and chattered something near the door, hand in hand. 'La,
+Sophy,' says I, 'what is up now?' Says she, 'They are blessing of us.
+Things is come to a pretty pass, for ignorant Muslinmen heathen to be
+blessing Christian folk.' 'Well,' says I, 'it won't hurt us any.' 'I
+don't know,' says she. 'I don't want the devil prayed over me.' So she
+cocked that long nose of hers and followed it in a doors."
+
+By this time they were near the house, and Phoebe was obliged to come to
+her postscript, for the sake of which, believe me, she had uttered
+every syllable of this varied chat. "Well, sir," said she, affecting to
+proceed without any considerable change of topic, "and how do you find
+yourself? Have you discovered the past?"
+
+"I have, madam. I remember every leading incident of my life."
+
+"And has it made you happier?" said Phoebe softly.
+
+"No," said Christopher gravely. "Memory has brought me misery."
+
+"I feared as much; for you have lost your fine color, and your eyes are
+hollow, and lines on your poor brow that were not there before. Are you
+not sorry you have discovered the past?"
+
+"No, Mrs. Falcon. Give me the sovereign gift of reason, with all the
+torture it can inflict. I thank God for returning memory, even with the
+misery it brings."
+
+Phoebe was silent a long time: then she said in a low, gentle voice,
+and with the indirectness of a truly feminine nature, "I have plenty of
+writing-paper in the house; and the post goes south to-morrow, such as
+'tis."
+
+Christopher struggled with his misery, and trembled.
+
+He was silent a long time. Then he said, "No. It is her interest that I
+should be dead."
+
+"Well, but, sir--take a thought."
+
+"Not a word more, I implore you. I am the most miserable man that ever
+breathed." As he spoke, two bitter tears forced their way.
+
+Phoebe cast a look of pity on him, and said no more; but she shook her
+head. Her plain common sense revolted.
+
+However, it did not follow he would be in the same mind next week: so
+she was in excellent spirits at her protege's recovery, and very proud
+of her cure, and celebrated the event with a roaring supper, including
+an English ham, and a bottle of port wine; and, ten to one, that was
+English too.
+
+Dick Dale looked a little incredulous, but he did not spare the ham any
+the more for that.
+
+After supper, in a pause of conversation, Staines turned to Dick, and
+said, rather abruptly, "Suppose that dam of yours were to burst and
+empty its contents, would it not be a great misfortune to you?"
+
+"Misfortune, sir! Don't talk of it. Why, it would ruin us, beast and
+body."
+
+"Well, it will burst, if it is not looked to."
+
+"Dale's Kloof dam burst! the biggest and strongest for a hundred miles
+round."
+
+"You deceive yourself. It is not scientifically built, to begin, and
+there is a cause at work that will infallibly burst it, if not looked to
+in time."
+
+"And what is that, sir?"
+
+"The dam is full of crabs."
+
+"So 'tis; but what of them?"
+
+"I detected two of them that had perforated the dyke from the wet side
+to the dry, and water was trickling through the channel they had made.
+Now, for me to catch two that had come right through, there must be a
+great many at work honeycombing your dyke; those channels, once made,
+will be enlarged by the permeating water, and a mere cupful of water
+forced into a dyke by the great pressure of a heavy column has an
+expansive power quite out of proportion to the quantity forced in.
+Colossal dykes have been burst in this way with disastrous effects.
+Indeed, it is only a question of time, and I would not guarantee your
+dyke twelve hours. It is full, too, with the heavy rains."
+
+"Here's a go!" said Dick, turning pale. "Well, if it is to burst, it
+must."
+
+"Why so? You can make it safe in a few hours. You have got a clumsy
+contrivance for letting off the excess of water: let us go and relieve
+the dam at once of two feet of water. That will make it safe for a day
+or two, and to-morrow we will puddle it afresh, and demolish those busy
+excavators."
+
+He spoke with such authority and earnestness, that they all got up from
+table; a horn was blown that soon brought the Hottentots, and they all
+proceeded to the dam. With infinite difficulty they opened the waste
+sluice, lowered the water two feet, and so drenched the arid soil that
+in forty-eight hours flowers unknown sprang up.
+
+Next morning, under the doctor's orders, all the black men and boys were
+diving with lumps of stiff clay and puddling the endangered wall with a
+thick wall of it. This took all the people the whole day.
+
+Next day the clay wall was carried two feet higher, and then the doctor
+made them work on the other side and buttress the dyke with supports so
+enormous as seemed extravagant to Dick and Phoebe; but, after all, it
+was as well to be on the safe side, they thought: and soon they were
+sure of it, for the whole work was hardly finished when the news came in
+that the dyke of a neighboring Boer, ten miles off, had exploded like a
+cannon, and emptied itself in five minutes, drowning the farm-yard and
+floating the furniture, but leaving them all to perish of drought; and
+indeed the Boer's cart came every day, with empty barrels, for some
+time, to beg water of the Dales. Ucatella pondered all this, and said
+her doctor child was wise.
+
+This brief excitement over, Staines went back to his own gloomy
+thoughts, and they scarcely saw him, except at supper-time.
+
+One evening he surprised them all by asking if they would add to all
+their kindness by lending him a horse, and a spade, and a few pounds to
+go to the diamond fields.
+
+Dick Dale looked at his sister. She said, "We had rather lend them you
+to go home with, sir, if you must leave us; but, dear heart, I was half
+in hopes--Dick and I were talking it over only yesterday--that you would
+go partners like with us; ever since you saved the dam."
+
+"I have too little to offer for that, Mrs. Falcon; and, besides, I am
+driven into a corner. I must make money quickly, or not at all: the
+diamonds are only three hundred miles off: for heaven's sake, let me try
+my luck."
+
+They tried to dissuade him, and told him not one in fifty did any good
+at it.
+
+"Ay, but I shall," said he. "Great bad luck is followed by great good
+luck, and I feel my turn is come. Not that I rely on luck. An accident
+directed my attention to the diamond a few years ago, and I read a
+number of prime works upon the subject that told me of things not
+known to the miners. It is clear, from the Cape journals, that they
+are looking for diamonds in the river only. Now, I am sure that is a
+mistake. Diamonds, like gold, have their matrix, and it is comparatively
+few gems that get washed into the river. I am confident that I shall
+find the volcanic matrix, and perhaps make my fortune in a week or two."
+
+When the dialogue took this turn, Reginald Falcon's cheek began to
+flush, and his eyes to glitter.
+
+Christopher continued: "You who have befriended me so will not turn
+back, I am sure, when I have such a chance before me; and as for the
+small sum of money I shall require, I will repay you some day, even
+if"--
+
+"La, sir, don't talk so. If you put it that way, why, the best horse we
+have, and fifty pounds in good English gold, they are at your service
+to-morrow."
+
+"And pick and spade to boot," said Dick, "and a double rifle, for there
+are lions, and Lord knows what, between this and the Vaal river."
+
+"God bless you both!" said Christopher. "I will start to-morrow."
+
+"And I'll go with you," said Reginald Falcon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+"Heaven forbid!" said Phoebe. "No, my dear, no more diamonds for us. We
+never had but one, and it brought us trouble."
+
+"Nonsense, Phoebe," replied Falcon; "it was not the diamond's fault.
+You know I have often wanted to go there, but you objected. You said you
+were afraid some evil would befall me. But now Solomon himself is going
+to the mines, let us have no more of that nonsense. We will take our
+rifles and our pistols."
+
+"There--there--rifles and pistols," cried Phoebe; "that shows."
+
+"And we will be there in a week; stay a month, and home with our pockets
+full of diamonds."
+
+"And find me dead of a broken heart."
+
+"Broken fiddlestick! We have been parted longer than that, and yet here
+we are all right."
+
+"Ay, but the pitcher that goes too often to the well gets broke at last.
+No, Reginald, now I have tasted three years' happiness and peace of
+mind, I cannot go through what I used in England. Oh, doctor! have you
+the heart to part man and wife, that have never been a day from each
+other all these years?"
+
+"Mrs. Falcon, I would not do it for all the diamonds in Brazil. No, Mr.
+Falcon, I need hardly say how charmed I should be to have your company:
+but that is a pleasure I shall certainly deny myself, after what your
+good wife has said. I owe her too much to cause her a single pang."
+
+"Doctor," said the charming Reginald, "you are a gentleman and side with
+the lady. Quite right. It adds to my esteem, if possible. Make your
+mind easy; I will go alone. I am not a farmer. I am dead sick of this
+monotonous life; and, since I am compelled to speak my mind, a little
+ashamed, as a gentleman, of living on my wife and her brother, and doing
+nothing for myself. So I shall go to the Vaal river, and see a little
+life; here there's nothing but vegetation--and not much of that. Not
+a word more, Phoebe, if you please. I am a good, easy, affectionate
+husband, but I am a man, and not a child to be tied to a woman's
+apron-strings, however much I may love and respect her."
+
+Dick put in his word: "Since you are so independent, you can WALK to the
+Vaal river. I can't spare a couple of horses."
+
+This hit the sybarite hard, and he cast a bitter glance of hatred at his
+brother-in-law, and fell into a moody silence.
+
+But when he got Phoebe to himself, he descanted on her selfishness,
+Dick's rudeness, and his own wounded dignity, till he made her quite
+anxious he should have his own way. She came to Staines, with red eyes,
+and said, "Tell me, doctor, will there be any women up there--to take
+care of you?"
+
+"Not a petticoat in the place, I believe. It is a very rough life; and
+how Falcon could think of leaving you and sweet little Tommy, and this
+life of health, and peace, and comfort--"
+
+"Yet YOU do leave us, sir."
+
+"I am the most unfortunate man upon the earth; Falcon is one of the
+happiest. Would I leave wife and child to go there? Ah me! I am dead to
+those I love. This is my one chance of seeing my darling again for many
+a long year perhaps. Oh, I must not speak of HER--it unmans me. My good,
+kind friend, I'll tell you what to do. When we are all at supper, let
+a horse be saddled and left in the yard for me. I'll bid you all
+good-night, and I'll put fifty miles between us before morning. Even
+then HE need not be told I am gone; he will not follow me."
+
+"You are very good, sir," said Phoebe; "but no. Too much has been
+said. I can't have him humbled by my brother, nor any one. He says I
+am selfish. Perhaps I am; though I never was called so. I can't bear
+he should think me selfish. He WILL go, and so let us have no ill blood
+about it. Since he is to go, of course I'd much liever he should go with
+you than by himself. You are sure there are no women up there--to take
+care of--you--both? You must be purse-bearer, sir, and look to every
+penny. He is too generous when he has got money to spend."
+
+In short, Reginald had played so upon her heart, that she now urged the
+joint expedition, only she asked a delay of a day or two to equip them,
+and steel herself to the separation.
+
+Staines did not share those vague fears that overpowered the wife, whose
+bitter experiences were unknown to him; but he felt uncomfortable at her
+condition--for now she was often in tears--and he said all he could to
+comfort her; and he also advised her how to profit by these terrible
+diamonds, in her way. He pointed out to her that her farm lay right
+in the road to the diamonds, yet the traffic all shunned her, passing
+twenty miles to the westward. Said he, "You should profit by all your
+resources. You have wood, a great rarity in Africa; order a portable
+forge; run up a building where miners can sleep, another where they
+can feed; the grain you have so wisely refused to sell, grind it into
+flour."
+
+"Dear heart! why, there's neither wind nor water to turn a mill."
+
+"But there are oxen. I'll show you how to make an ox-mill. Send your
+Cape cart into Cape Town for iron lathes, for coffee and tea, and
+groceries by the hundredweight. The moment you are ready--for success
+depends on the order in which we act--then prepare great boards, and
+plant them twenty miles south. Write or paint on them, very large,
+'The nearest way to the Diamond Mines, through Dale's Kloof, where is
+excellent accommodation for man and beast. Tea, coffee, home-made bread,
+fresh butter, etc., etc.' Do this, and you will soon leave off decrying
+diamonds. This is the sure way to coin them. I myself take the doubtful
+way; but I can't help it. I am a dead man, and swift good fortune will
+give me life. You can afford to go the slower road and the surer."
+
+Then he drew her a model of an ox-mill, and of a miner's dormitory, the
+partitions six feet six apart, so that these very partitions formed
+the bedstead, the bed-sacking being hooked to the uprights. He drew his
+model for twenty bedrooms.
+
+The portable forge and the ox-mill pleased Dick Dale most, but the
+partitioned bedsteads charmed Phoebe. She said, "Oh, doctor, how can one
+man's head hold so many things? If there's a man on earth I can trust my
+husband with, 'tis you. But if things go cross up there, promise me you
+will come back at once and cast in your lot with us. We have got money
+and stock, and you have got headpiece; we might do very well together.
+Indeed, indeed we might. Promise me. Oh, do, please, promise me!"
+
+"I promise you."
+
+And on this understanding, Staines and Falcon were equipped with rifles,
+pickaxe, shovels, waterproofs, and full saddle-bags, and started, with
+many shakings of the hand, and many tears from Phoebe, for the diamond
+washings.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+Phoebe's tears at parting made Staines feel uncomfortable, and he said
+so.
+
+"Pooh, pooh!" said Falcon, "crying for nothing does a woman good."
+
+Christopher stared at him.
+
+Falcon's spirits rose as they proceeded. He was like a boy let loose
+from school. His fluency and charm of manner served, however, to cheer a
+singularly dreary journey.
+
+The travellers soon entered on a vast and forbidding region, that
+wearied the eye; at their feet a dull, rusty carpet of dried grass and
+wild camomile, with pale-red sand peeping through the burnt and scanty
+herbage. On the low mounds, that looked like heaps of sifted ashes,
+struggled now and then into sickliness a ragged, twisted shrub. There
+were flowers too, but so sparse, that they sparkled vainly in the
+colorless waste, which stretched to the horizon. The farmhouses were
+twenty miles apart, and nine out of ten of them were new ones built by
+the Boers since they degenerated into white savages: mere huts, with
+domed kitchens behind them. In the dwelling-house the whole family
+pigged together, with raw flesh drying on the rafters, stinking skins
+in a corner, parasitical vermin of all sorts blackening the floor, and
+particularly a small, biting, and odoriferous tortoise, compared with
+which the insect a London washerwoman brings into your house in her
+basket, is a stroke with a feather--and all this without the excuse of
+penury; for many of these were shepherd kings, sheared four thousand
+fleeces a year, and owned a hundred horses and horned cattle.
+
+These Boers are compelled, by unwritten law, to receive travellers and
+water their cattle; but our travellers, after one or two experiences,
+ceased to trouble them; for, added to the dirt, the men were sullen, the
+women moody, silent, brainless; the whole reception churlish. Staines
+detected in them an uneasy consciousness that they had descended, in
+more ways than one, from a civilized race; and the superior bearing of a
+European seemed to remind them what they had been, and might have been,
+and were not; so, after an attempt or two, our adventurers avoided the
+Boers, and tried the Kafirs. They found the savages socially superior,
+though their moral character does not rank high.
+
+The Kafir cabins they entered were caves, lighted only by the door, but
+deliciously cool, and quite clean; the floors of puddled clay or ants'
+nests, and very clean. On entering these cool retreats, the flies that
+had tormented them shirked the cool grot, and buzzed off to the nearest
+farm to batten on congenial foulness. On the fat, round, glossy babies,
+not a speck of dirt, whereas the little Boers were cakes thereof. The
+Kafir would meet them at the door, his clean black face all smiles and
+welcome. The women and grown girls would fling a spotless handkerchief
+over their shoulders in a moment, and display their snowy teeth, in
+unaffected joy at sight of an Englishman.
+
+At one of these huts, one evening, they met with something St. Paul
+ranks above cleanliness even, viz., Christianity. A neighboring lion had
+just eaten a Hottentot faute de mieux; and these good Kafirs wanted the
+Europeans not to go on at night and be eaten for dessert. But they could
+not speak a word of English, and pantomimic expression exists in theory
+alone. In vain the women held our travellers by the coat-tails, and
+pointed to a distant wood. In vain Kafir pere went on all-fours and
+growled sore. But at last a savage youth ran to the kitchen--for they
+never cook in the house--and came back with a brand, and sketched, on
+the wall of the hut, a lion with a mane down to the ground, and a saucer
+eye, not loving. The creature's paw rested on a hat and coat and another
+fragment or two of a European. The rest was fore-shortened, or else
+eaten.
+
+The picture completed, the females looked, approved, and raised a dismal
+howl.
+
+"A lion on the road," said Christopher gravely.
+
+Then the undaunted Falcon seized the charcoal, and drew an Englishman in
+a theatrical attitude, left foot well forward, firing a gun, and a lion
+rolling head over heels like a buck rabbit, and blood squirting out of a
+hole in his perforated carcass.
+
+The savages saw, and exulted. They were so off their guard as to
+confound representation with fact; they danced round the white warrior,
+and launched him to victory.
+
+"Aha!" said Falcon, "I took the shine out of their lion, didn't I?"
+
+"You did: and once there was a sculptor who showed a lion his marble
+group, a man trampling a lion, extracting his tongue, and so on; but
+report says it DID NOT CONVINCE THE LION."
+
+"Why, no; a lion is not an ass. But, for your comfort, there ARE no
+lions in this part of the world. They are myths. There were lions in
+Africa. But now they are all at the Zoo. And I wish I was there too."
+
+"In what character--of a discontented animal--with every blessing? They
+would not take you in; too common in England. Hallo! this is something
+new. What lots of bushes! We should not have much chance with a lion
+here."
+
+"There ARE no lions: it is not the Zoo," said Falcon; but he spurred on
+faster.
+
+The country, however, did not change its feature; bushes and little
+acacias prevailed, and presently dark forms began to glide across at
+intervals.
+
+The travellers held their breath, and pushed on; but at last their
+horses flagged; so they thought it best to stop and light a fire and
+stand upon their guard.
+
+They did so, and Falcon sat with his rifle cocked, while Staines boiled
+coffee, and they drank it, and after two hours' halt, pushed on; and at
+last the bushes got more scattered, and they were on the dreary plain
+again. Falcon drew the rein, with a sigh of relief, and they walked
+their horses side by side.
+
+"Well, what has become of the lions?" said Falcon jauntily. He turned in
+his saddle, and saw a large animal stealing behind them with its belly
+to the very earth, and eyes hot coals; he uttered an eldrich screech,
+fired both barrels, with no more aim than a baby, and spurred away,
+yelling like a demon. The animal fled another way, in equal trepidation
+at those tongues of flame and loud reports, and Christopher's horse
+reared and plunged, and deposited him promptly on the sward; but he held
+the bridle, mounted again, and rode after his companion. A stern chase
+is a long chase; and for that or some other reason he could never catch
+him again till sunrise. Being caught, he ignored the lioness, with cool
+hauteur: he said he had ridden on to find comfortable quarters: and
+craved thanks.
+
+This was literally the only incident worth recording that the companions
+met with in three hundred miles.
+
+On the sixth day out, towards afternoon, they found by inquiring they
+were near the diamond washings, and the short route was pointed out by
+an exceptionally civil Boer.
+
+But Christopher's eye had lighted upon a sort of chain of knolls, or
+little round hills, devoid of vegetation, and he told Falcon he would
+like to inspect these, before going farther.
+
+"Oh," said the Boer, "they are not on my farm, thank goodness! they are
+on my cousin Bulteel's;" and he pointed to a large white house about
+four miles distant, and quite off the road. Nevertheless, Staines
+insisted on going to it. But first they made up to one of these knolls,
+and examined it; it was about thirty feet high, and not a vestige of
+herbage on it; the surface was composed of sand and of lumps of gray
+limestone very hard, diversified with lots of quartz, mica, and other
+old formations.
+
+Staines got to the top of it with some difficulty, and examined the
+surface all over. He came down again, and said, "All these little
+hills mark hot volcanic action--why, they are like boiling
+earth-bubbles--which is the very thing, under certain conditions, to
+turn carbonate of lime into diamonds. Now here is plenty of limestone
+unnaturally hard; and being in a diamond country, I can fancy no place
+more likely to be the matrix than these earth-bubbles. Let us tether the
+horses, and use our shovels."
+
+They did so; and found one or two common crystals, and some jasper, and
+a piece of chalcedony all in little bubbles, but no diamond. Falcon said
+it was wasting time.
+
+Just then the proprietor, a gigantic, pasty colonist, came up, with his
+pipe, and stood calmly looking on. Staines came down, and made a sort of
+apology. Bulteel smiled quietly, and asked what harm they could do him,
+raking that rubbish. "Rake it all avay, mine vriends," said he: "ve
+shall thank you moch."
+
+He then invited them languidly to his house. They went with him, and
+as he volunteered no more remarks, they questioned him, and learned his
+father had been a Hollander, and so had his vrow's. This accounted for
+the size and comparative cleanliness of his place. It was stuccoed with
+the lime of the country outside, and was four times as large as the
+miserable farmhouses of the degenerate Boers. For all this, the street
+door opened on the principal room, and that room was kitchen and parlor,
+only very large and wholesome. "But, Lord," as poor dear Pepys used to
+blurt out--"to see how some folk understand cleanliness!" The floor was
+made of powdered ants' nests, and smeared with fresh cow-dung every day.
+Yet these people were the cleanest Boers in the colony.
+
+The vrow met them, with a snow-white collar and cuffs of Hamburgh linen,
+and the brats had pasty faces round as pumpkins, but shone with soap.
+The vrow was also pasty-faced, but gentle, and welcomed them with a
+smile, languid, but unequivocal.
+
+The Hottentots took their horses, as a matter of course. Their guns were
+put in a corner. A clean cloth was spread, and they saw they were to sup
+and sleep there, though the words of invitation were never spoken.
+
+At supper, sun-dried flesh, cabbage, and a savory dish the travellers
+returned to with gusto. Staines asked what it was: the vrow told
+him--locusts. They had stripped her garden, and filled her very rooms,
+and fallen in heaps under her walls; so she had pressed them, by the
+million, into cakes, had salted them lightly, and stored them, and they
+were excellent, baked.
+
+After supper, the accomplished Reginald, observing a wire guitar, tuned
+it with some difficulty, and so twanged it, and sang ditties to it, that
+the flabby giant's pasty face wore a look of dreamy content over his
+everlasting pipe; and in the morning, after a silent breakfast, he said,
+"Mine vriends, stay here a year or two, and rake in mine rubbish. Ven
+you are tired, here are springbok and antelopes, and you can shoot
+mit your rifles, and ve vil cook them, and you shall zing us zongs of
+Vaderland."
+
+They thanked him heartily, and said they would stay a few days, at all
+events.
+
+The placid Boer went a-farming; and the pair shouldered their pick and
+shovel, and worked on their heap all day, and found a number of pretty
+stones, but no diamond.
+
+"Come," said Falcon, "we must go to the river;" and Staines acquiesced.
+"I bow to experience," said he.
+
+At the threshold they found two of the little Bulteels, playing with
+pieces of quartz, crystal, etc., on the door-stone. One of these stones
+caught Staines's eye directly. It sparkled in a different way from the
+others: he examined it: it was the size of a white haricot bean, and one
+side of it polished by friction. He looked at it, and looked, and saw
+that it refracted the light. He felt convinced it was a diamond.
+
+"Give the boy a penny for it," said the ingenious Falcon, on receiving
+the information.
+
+"Oh!" said Staines. "Take advantage of a child?"
+
+He borrowed it of the boy, and laid it on the table, after supper.
+"Sir," said he, "this is what we were raking in your kopjes for, and
+could not find it. It belongs to little Hans. Will you sell it us? We
+are not experts, but we think it may be a diamond. We will risk ten
+pounds on it."
+
+"Ten pounds!" said the farmer. "Nay, we rob not travellers, mine
+vriend."
+
+"But if it is a diamond, it is worth a hundred. See how it gains fire in
+the dusk."
+
+In short, they forced the ten pounds on him, and next day went to work
+on another kopje.
+
+But the simple farmer's conscience smote him. It was a slack time; so
+he sent four Hotteatots, with shovels, to help these friendly maniacs.
+These worked away gayly, and the white men set up a sorting table, and
+sorted the stuff, and hammered the nodules, and at last found a little
+stone as big as a pea that refracted the light. Staines showed this to
+the Hottentots, and their quick eyes discovered two more that day, only
+smaller.
+
+Next day, nothing but a splinter or two.
+
+Then Staines determined to dig deeper, contrary to the general
+impression. He gave his reason: "Diamonds don't fall from the sky. They
+work up from the ground; and clearly the heat must be greater farther
+down."
+
+Acting on this, they tried the next strata, but found it entirely
+barren. After that, however, they came to a fresh layer of carbonate,
+and here, Falcon hammering a large lump of conglomerate, out leaped, all
+of a sudden, a diamond big as a nut, that ran along the earth, gleaming
+like a star. It had polished angles and natural facets, and even a
+novice, with an eye in his head, could see it was a diamond of the
+purest water. Staines and Falcon shouted with delight, and made the
+blacks a present on the spot.
+
+They showed the prize, at night, and begged the farmer to take to
+digging. There was ten times more money beneath his soil than on it.
+
+Not he. He was a farmer: did not believe in diamonds. Two days
+afterwards, another great find. Seven small diamonds.
+
+Next day, a stone as large as a cob-nut, and with strange and beautiful
+streaks. They carried it home to dinner, and set it on the table, and
+told the family it was worth a thousand pounds. Bulteel scarcely looked
+at it; but the vrow trembled and all the young folk glowered at it.
+
+In the middle of dinner, it exploded like a cracker, and went literally
+into diamond-dust.
+
+"Dere goes von tousand pounds," said Bulteel, without moving a muscle.
+
+Falcon swore. But Staines showed fortitude. "It was laminated," said he,
+"and exposure to the air was fatal."
+
+Owing to the invaluable assistance of the Hottentots, they had in
+less than a month collected four large stones of pure water, and a
+wineglassful of small stones, when, one fine day, going to work calmly
+after breakfast, they found some tents pitched, and at least a score
+of dirty diggers, bearded like the pard, at work on the ground. Staines
+sent Falcon back to tell Bulteel, and suggest that he should at once
+order them off, or, better still, make terms with them. The phlegmatic
+Boer did neither.
+
+In twenty-four hours it was too late. The place was rushed. In other
+words, diggers swarmed to the spot, with no idea of law but digger's
+law.
+
+A thousand tents rose like mushrooms; and poor Bulteel stood smoking,
+and staring amazed, at his own door, and saw a veritable procession
+of wagons, Cape carts, and powdered travellers file past him to take
+possession of his hillocks. Him, the proprietor, they simply ignored;
+they had a committee who were to deal with all obstructions, landlords
+and tenants included. They themselves measured out Bulteel's farm into
+thirty-foot claims, and went to work with shovel and pick. They held
+Staines's claim sacred--that was diggers' law; but they confined it
+strictly to thirty feet square.
+
+Had the friends resisted, their brains would have been knocked out.
+However, they gained this, that dealers poured in, and the market not
+being yet glutted, the price was good. Staines sold a few of the small
+stones for two hundred pounds. He showed one of the larger stones. The
+dealer's eye glittered, but he offered only three hundred pounds,
+and this was so wide of the ascending scale, on which a stone of that
+importance is priced, that Staines reserved it for sale at Cape Town.
+
+Nevertheless, he afterwards doubted whether he had not better have taken
+it; for the multitude of diggers turned out such a prodigious number of
+diamonds at Bulteel's pan, that a sort of panic fell on the market.
+
+These dry diggings were a revelation to the world. Men began to think
+the diamond perhaps was a commoner stone than any one had dreamed it to
+be.
+
+As to the discovery of stones, Staines and Falcon lost nothing by being
+confined to a thirty-foot claim. Compelled to dig deeper, they got into
+a rich strata, where they found garnets by the pint, and some small
+diamonds, and at last, one lucky day, their largest diamond. It weighed
+thirty-seven carats, and was a rich yellow. Now, when a diamond is
+clouded or off color, it is terribly depreciated; but a diamond with
+a positive color is called a fancy stone, and ranks with the purest
+stones.
+
+"I wish I had this in Cape Town," said Staines.
+
+"Why, I'll take it to Cape Town, if you like," said the changeable
+Falcon.
+
+"You will?" said Christopher, surprised.
+
+"Why not? I'm not much of a digger. I can serve our interest better by
+selling. I could get a thousand pounds for this at Cape Town."
+
+"We will talk of that quietly," said Christopher.
+
+Now, the fact is, Falcon, as a digger, was not worth a pin. He could not
+sort. His eyes would not bear the blinding glare of a tropical sun upon
+lime and dazzling bits of mica, quartz, crystal, white topaz, etc., in
+the midst of which the true glint of the royal stone had to be caught in
+a moment. He could not sort, and he had not the heart to dig. The only
+way to make him earn his half was to turn him into the travelling and
+selling partner.
+
+Christopher was too generous to tell him this; but he acted on it, and
+said he thought his was an excellent proposal; indeed, he had better
+take all the diamonds they had got to Dale's Kloof first, and show them
+to his wife, for her consolation: "And perhaps," said he, "in a matter
+of this importance, she will go to Cape Town with you, and try the
+market there."
+
+"All right," said Falcon.
+
+He sat and brooded over the matter a long time, and said, "Why make two
+bites of a cherry? They will only give us half the value at Cape Town;
+why not go by the steamer to England, before the London market is
+glutted, and all the world finds out that diamonds are as common as
+dirt?"
+
+"Go to England! What! without your wife? I'll never be a party to that.
+Me part man and wife! If you knew my own story"--
+
+"Why, who wants you?" said Reginald. "You don't understand. Phoebe is
+dying to visit England again; but she has got no excuse. If you like to
+give her one, she will be much obliged to you, I can tell you."
+
+"Oh, that is a very different matter. If Mrs. Falcon can leave her
+farm--"
+
+"Oh, that brute of a brother of hers is a very honest fellow, for that
+matter. She can trust the farm to him. Besides, it is only a month's
+voyage by the mail steamer."
+
+This suggestion of Falcon's set Christopher's heart bounding, and his
+eyes glistening. But he restrained himself, and said, "This takes me by
+surprise; let me smoke a pipe over it."
+
+He not only did that, but he lay awake all night.
+
+The fact is that for some time past, Christopher had felt sharp twinges
+of conscience, and deep misgivings as to the course he had pursued in
+leaving his wife a single day in the dark. Complete convalescence had
+cleared his moral sentiments, and perhaps, after all, the discovery
+of the diamonds had co-operated; since now the insurance money was no
+longer necessary to keep his wife from starving.
+
+"Ah!" said he; "faith is a great quality; and how I have lacked it!"
+
+To do him justice, he knew his wife's excitable nature, and was not
+without fears of some disaster, should the news be communicated to her
+unskilfully.
+
+But this proposal of Falcon's made the way clearer. Mrs. Falcon, though
+not a lady, had all a lady's delicacy, and all a woman's tact and
+tenderness. He knew no one in the world more fit to be trusted with
+the delicate task of breaking to his Rosa that the grave, for once, was
+baffled, and her husband lived. He now became quite anxious for Falcon's
+departure, and ardently hoped that worthy had not deceived himself as to
+Mrs. Falcon's desire to visit England.
+
+In short, it was settled that Falcon should start for Dale's Kloof,
+taking with him the diamonds, believed to be worth altogether three
+thousand pounds at Cape Town, and nearly as much again in England, and
+a long letter to Mrs. Falcon, in which Staines revealed his true story,
+told her where to find his wife, or hear of her, viz., at Kent Villa,
+Gravesend, and sketched an outline of instructions as to the way, and
+cunning degrees, by which the joyful news should be broken to her. With
+this he sent a long letter to be given to Rosa herself, but not till she
+should know all: and in this letter he enclosed the ruby ring she had
+given him. That ring had never left his finger, by sea or land, in
+sickness or health.
+
+The letter to Rosa was sealed. The two letters made quite a packet;
+for, in the letter to his beloved Rosa, he told her everything that had
+befallen him. It was a romance, and a picture of love; a letter to lift
+a loving woman to heaven, and almost reconcile her to all her bereaved
+heart had suffered.
+
+This letter, written with many tears from the heart that had so
+suffered, and was now softened by good fortune and bounding with joy,
+Staines entrusted to Falcon, together with the other diamonds, and with
+many warm shakings of the hand, started him on his way.
+
+"But mind, Falcon," said Christopher, "I shall expect an answer from
+Mrs. Falcon in twenty days at farthest. I do not feel so sure as you
+do that she wants to go to England; and, if not, I must write to Uncle
+Philip. Give me your solemn promise, old fellow, an answer in twenty
+days--if you have to send a Kafir on horseback."
+
+"I give you my honor," said Falcon superbly.
+
+"Send it to me at Bulteel's Farm."
+
+"All right. 'Dr. Christie, Bulteel's Farm.'"
+
+"Well--no. Why should I conceal my real name any longer from such
+friends as you and your wife? Christie is short for Christopher--that IS
+my Christian name; but my surname is Staines. Write to 'Dr. Staines.'"
+
+"Dr. Staines!"
+
+"Yes. Did you ever hear of me?"
+
+Falcon wore a strange look. "I almost think I have. Down at Gravesend,
+or somewhere."
+
+"That is curious. Yes, I married my Rosa there; poor thing! God bless
+her; God comfort her. She thinks me dead."
+
+His voice trembled, he grasped Falcon's cold hand till the latter winced
+again, and so they parted, and Falcon rode off muttering, "Dr. Staines!
+so then YOU are Dr. Staines."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+Rosa Staines had youth on her side, and it is an old saying that youth
+will not be denied. Youth struggled with death for her, and won the
+battle.
+
+But she came out of that terrible fight weak as a child. The sweet pale
+face, the widow's cap, the suit of deep black--it was long ere these
+came down from the sickroom. And when they did, oh, the dead blank!
+The weary, listless life! The days spent in sighs, and tears, and
+desolation. Solitude! solitude! Her husband was gone, and a strange
+woman played the mother to her child before her eyes.
+
+Uncle Philip was devotedly kind to her, and so was her father; but they
+could do nothing for her.
+
+Months rolled on, and skinned the wound over. Months could not heal. Her
+boy became dearer and dearer, and it was from him came the first real
+drops of comfort, however feeble.
+
+She used to read her lost one's diary every day, and worship, in deep
+sorrow, the mind she had scarcely respected until it was too late. She
+searched in his diary to find his will, and often she mourned that he
+had written on it so few things she could obey. Her desire to obey
+the dead, whom, living, she had often disobeyed, was really simple and
+touching. She would mourn to her father that there were so few commands
+to her in his diary. "But," said she, "memory brings me back his will in
+many things, and to obey is now the only sad comfort I have."
+
+It was in this spirit she now forced herself to keep accounts. No fear
+of her wearing stays now; no powder; no trimmings; no waste.
+
+After the usual delay, her father told her she should instruct a
+solicitor to apply to the insurance company for the six thousand
+pounds. She refused with a burst of agony. "The price of his life," she
+screamed. "Never! I'd live on bread and water sooner than touch that
+vile money."
+
+Her father remonstrated gently. But she was immovable. "No. It would be
+like consenting to his death."
+
+Then Uncle Philip was sent for.
+
+He set her child on her knee; and gave her a pen. "Come," said he,
+sternly, "be a woman, and do your duty to little Christie."
+
+She kissed the boy, cried, and did her duty meekly. But when the money
+was brought her, she flew to Uncle Philip, and said, "There! there!"
+and threw it all before him, and cried as if her heart would break. He
+waited patiently, and asked her what he was to do with all that: invest
+it?
+
+"Yes, yes; for my little Christie."
+
+"And pay you the interest quarterly."
+
+"Oh, no, no. Dribble us out a little as we want it. That is the way to
+be truly kind to a simpleton. I hate that word."
+
+"And suppose I run off with it? Such confiding geese as you corrupt a
+man."
+
+"I shall never corrupt you. Crusty people are the soul of honor."
+
+"Crusty people!" cried Philip, affecting amazement. "What are they?"
+
+She bit her lip and colored a little; but answered adroitly, "They are
+people that pretend not to have good hearts, but have the best in the
+world; far better ones than your smooth ones: that's crusty people."
+
+"Very well," said Philip; "and I'll tell you what simpletons are. They
+are little transparent-looking creatures that look shallow, but are as
+deep as Old Nick, and make you love them in spite of your judgment.
+They are the most artful of their sex; for they always achieve its great
+object, to be loved--the very thing that clever women sometimes fail
+in."
+
+"Well, and if we are not to be loved, why live at all--such useless
+things as I am?" said Rosa simply.
+
+So Philip took charge of her money, and agreed to help her save money
+for her little Christopher. Poverty should never destroy him, as it had
+his father.
+
+As months rolled on, she crept out into public a little; but always on
+foot, and a very little way from home.
+
+Youth and sober life gradually restored her strength, but not her color,
+nor her buoyancy.
+
+Yet she was perhaps more beautiful than ever; for a holy sorrow
+chastened and sublimed her features: it was now a sweet, angelic,
+pensive beauty, that interested every feeling person at a glance.
+
+She would visit no one; but a twelvemonth after her bereavement, she
+received a few chosen visitors.
+
+One day a young gentleman called, and sent up his card, "Lord
+Tadcaster," with a note from Lady Cicely Treherne, full of kindly
+feeling. Uncle Philip had reconciled her to Lady Cicely; but they had
+never met.
+
+Mrs. Staines was much agitated at the very name of Lord Tadcaster; but
+she would not have missed seeing him for the world.
+
+She received him with her beautiful eyes wide open, to drink in every
+lineament of one who had seen the last of her Christopher.
+
+Tadcaster was wonderfully improved: he had grown six inches out at sea,
+and though still short, was not diminutive; he was a small Apollo, a
+model of symmetry, and had an engaging, girlish beauty, redeemed from
+downright effeminacy by a golden mustache like silk, and a tanned cheek
+that became him wonderfully.
+
+He seemed dazzled at first by Mrs. Staines, but murmured that Lady
+Cicely had told him to come, or he would not have ventured.
+
+"Who can be so welcome to me as you?" said she, and the tears came thick
+in her eyes directly.
+
+Soon, he hardly knew how, he found himself talking of Staines, and
+telling her what a favorite he was, and all the clever things he had
+done.
+
+The tears streamed down her cheeks, but she begged him to go on telling
+her, and omit nothing.
+
+He complied heartily, and was even so moved by the telling of his
+friend's virtues, and her tears and sobs, that he mingled his tears with
+hers. She rewarded him by giving him her hand as she turned away her
+tearful face to indulge the fresh burst of grief his sympathy evoked.
+
+When he was leaving, she said, in her simple way, "Bless you"--"Come
+again," she said: "you have done a poor widow good."
+
+Lord Tadcaster was so interested and charmed, he would gladly have
+come back next day to see her; but he restrained that extravagance, and
+waited a week.
+
+Then he visited her again. He had observed the villa was not rich
+in flowers, and he took her down a magnificent bouquet, cut from his
+father's hot-houses. At sight of him, or at sight of it, or both, the
+color rose for once in her pale cheek, and her pensive face wore a sweet
+expression of satisfaction. She took his flowers, and thanked him for
+them, and for coming to see her.
+
+Soon they got on the only topic she cared for, and, in the course of
+this second conversation, he took her into his confidence, and told her
+he owed everything to Dr. Staines. "I was on the wrong road altogether,
+and he put me right. To tell you the truth, I used to disobey him now
+and then, while he was alive, and I was always the worse for it; now he
+is gone, I never disobey him. I have written down a lot of wise, kind
+things he said to me, and I never go against any one of them. I call it
+my book of oracles. Dear me, I might have brought it with me."
+
+"Oh, yes! why didn't you?" rather reproachfully.
+
+"I will bring it next time."
+
+"Pray do."
+
+Then she looked at him with her lovely swimming eyes, and said tenderly,
+"And so here is another that disobeyed him living, but obeys him dead.
+What will you think when I tell you that I, his wife, who now worship
+him when it is too late, often thwarted and vexed him when he was
+alive?"
+
+"No, no. He told me you were an angel, and I believe it."
+
+"An angel! a good-for-nothing, foolish woman, who sees everything too
+late."
+
+"Nobody else should say so before me," said the little gentleman
+grandly. "I shall take HIS word before yours on this one subject. If
+ever there was an angel, you are one; and oh, what would I give if I
+could but say or do anything in the world to comfort you!"
+
+"You can do nothing for ME, dear, but come and see me often, and talk to
+me as you do--on the one sad theme my broken heart has room for."
+
+This invitation delighted Lord Tadcaster, and the sweet word "dear,"
+from her lovely lips, entered his heart, and ran through all his veins
+like some rapturous but dangerous elixir. He did not say to himself,
+"She is a widow with a child, feels old with grief, and looks on me as a
+boy who has been kind to her." Such prudence and wariness were hardly to
+be expected from his age. He had admired her at first sight, very nearly
+loved her at their first interview, and now this sweet word opened a
+heavenly vista. The generous heart that beat in his small frame burned
+to console her with a life-long devotion and all the sweet offices of
+love.
+
+He ordered his yacht to Gravesend--for he had become a sailor--and
+then he called on Mrs. Staines, and told her, with a sort of sheepish
+cunning, that now, as his yacht HAPPENED to be at Gravesend, he could
+come and see her very often. He watched her timidly, to see how she
+would take that proposition.
+
+She said, with the utmost simplicity, "I'm very glad of it."
+
+Then he produced his oracles; and she devoured them. Such precepts to
+Tadcaster as she could apply to her own case she instantly noted in her
+memory, and they became her law from that moment.
+
+Then, in her simplicity, she said, "And I will show you some things, in
+his own handwriting, that may be good for you; but I can't show you
+the whole book: some of it is sacred from every eye but his wife's. His
+wife's? Ah me! his widow's."
+
+Then she pointed out passages in the diary that she thought might be for
+his good; and he nestled to her side, and followed her white finger with
+loving eyes, and was in an elysium--which she would certainly have put
+a stop to at that time, had she divined it. But all wisdom does not come
+at once to an unguarded woman. Rosa Staines was wiser about her husband
+than she had been, but she had plenty to learn.
+
+Lord Tadcaster anchored off Gravesend, and visited Mrs. Staines nearly
+every day. She received him with a pleasure that was not at all lively,
+but quite undisguised. He could not doubt his welcome; for once, when he
+came, she said to the servant, "Not at home," a plain proof she did not
+wish his visit to be cut short by any one else.
+
+And so these visits and devoted attentions of every kind went on
+unobserved by Lord Tadcaster's friends, because Rosa would never go out,
+even with him; but at last Mr. Lusignan saw plainly how this would end,
+unless he interfered.
+
+Well, he did not interfere; on the contrary, he was careful to avoid
+putting his daughter on her guard: he said to himself, "Lord Tadcaster
+does her good. I'm afraid she would not marry him, if he was to ask her
+now; but in time she might. She likes him a great deal better than any
+one else."
+
+As for Philip, he was abroad for his own health, somewhat impaired by
+his long and faithful attendance on Rosa.
+
+So now Lord Tadcaster was in constant attendance on Rosa. She was
+languid, but gentle and kind; and, as mourners, like invalids, are apt
+to be egotistical, she saw nothing but that he was a comfort to her in
+her affliction.
+
+While matters were so, the Earl of Miltshire, who had long been sinking,
+died, and Tadcaster succeeded to his honors and estates.
+
+Rosa heard of it, and, thinking it was a great bereavement, wrote him
+one of those exquisite letters of condolence a lady alone can write. He
+took it to Lady Cicely, and showed it her. She highly approved it.
+
+He said, "The only thing--it makes me ashamed, I do not feel my poor
+father's death more; but you know it has been so long expected." Then
+he was silent a long time; and then he asked her if such a woman as that
+would not make him happy, if he could win her.
+
+It was on her ladyship's tongue to say, "She did not make her first
+happy;" but she forbore, and said coldly, that was maw than she could
+say.
+
+Tadcaster seemed disappointed by that, and by and by Cicely took herself
+to task. She asked herself what were Tadcaster's chances in the lottery
+of wives. The heavy army of scheming mothers, and the light cavalry of
+artful daughters, rose before her cousinly and disinterested eyes,
+and she asked herself what chance poor little Tadcaster would have
+of catching a true love, with a hundred female artists manoeuvring,
+wheeling, ambuscading, and charging upon his wealth and titles. She
+returned to the subject of her own accord, and told him she saw but one
+objection to such a match: the lady had a son by a man of rare merit and
+misfortune. Could he, at his age, undertake to be a father to that son?
+"Othahwise," said Lady Cicely, "mark my words, you will quall over that
+poor child; and you will have two to quall with, because I shall be on
+her side."
+
+Tadcaster declared to her that child should be quite the opposite of a
+bone of contention. "I have thought of that," said he, "and I mean to be
+so kind to that boy, I shall MAKE her love me for that."
+
+On these terms Lady Cicely gave her consent.
+
+Then he asked her should he write, or ask her in person.
+
+Lady Cicely reflected. "If you write, I think she will say no."
+
+"But if I go?"
+
+"Then, it will depend on how you do it. Rosa Staines is a true mourner.
+Whatever you may think, I don't believe the idea of a second union has
+ever entered her head. But then she is very unselfish: and she likes you
+better than any one else, I dare say. I don't think your title or your
+money will weigh with her now. But, if you show her your happiness
+depends on it, she may, perhaps, cwy and sob at the very idea of it,
+and then, after all, say, 'Well, why not--if I can make the poor soul
+happy?'"
+
+So, on this advice, Tadcaster went down to Gravesend, and Lady Cicely
+felt a certain self-satisfaction; for, her well-meant interference
+having lost Rosa one husband, she was pleased to think she had done
+something to give her another.
+
+Lord Tadcaster came to Rosa Staines; he found her seated with her head
+upon her white hand, thinking sadly of the past.
+
+At sight of him in deep mourning, she started, and said, "Oh!"
+
+Then she said tenderly, "We are of one color now," and gave him her
+hand.
+
+He sat down beside her, not knowing how to begin.
+
+"I am not Tadcaster now. I am Earl of Miltshire."
+
+"Ah, yes; I forgot," said she indifferently.
+
+"This is my first visit to any one in that character."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+"It is an awfully important visit to me. I could not feel myself
+independent, and able to secure your comfort and little Christie's,
+without coming to the lady, the only lady I ever saw, that--oh, Mrs.
+Staines--Rosa--who could see you, as I have done--mingle his tears
+with yours, as I have done, and not love you, and long to offer you his
+love?"
+
+"Love! to me, a broken-hearted woman, with nothing to live for but his
+memory and his child."
+
+She looked at him with a sort of scared amazement.
+
+"His child shall be mine. His memory is almost as dear to me as to you."
+
+"Nonsense, child, nonsense!" said she, almost sternly.
+
+"Was he not my best friend? Should I have the health I enjoy, or even be
+alive, but for him? Oh, Mrs. Staines--Rosa, you will not live all your
+life unmarried; and who will love you as I do? You are my first and only
+love. My happiness depends on you."
+
+"Your happiness depend on me! Heaven forbid--a woman of my age, that
+feels so old, old, old."
+
+"You are not old; you are young, and sad, and beautiful, and my
+happiness depends on you." She began to tremble a little. Then he
+kneeled at her knees, and implored her, and his hot tears fell upon the
+hand she put out to stop him, while she turned her head away, and the
+tears began to run.
+
+Oh! never can the cold dissecting pen tell what rushes over the heart
+that has loved and lost, when another true love first kneels and
+implores for love, or pity, or anything the bereaved can give.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+When Falcon went, luck seemed to desert their claim: day after day went
+by without a find; and the discoveries on every side made this the more
+mortifying.
+
+By this time the diggers at Bulteel's pan were as miscellaneous as the
+audience at Drury Lane Theatre, only mixed more closely; the gallery
+folk and the stalls worked cheek by jowl. Here a gentleman with an
+affected lisp, and close by an honest fellow, who could not deliver a
+sentence without an oath, or some still more horrible expletive that
+meant nothing at all in reality, but served to make respectable flesh
+creep: interspersed with these, Hottentots, Kafirs, and wild blue blacks
+gayly clad in an ostrich feather, a scarlet ribbon, and a Tower musket
+sold them by some good Christian for a modern rifle.
+
+On one side of Staines were two swells, who lay on their backs and
+talked opera half the day, but seldom condescended to work without
+finding a diamond of some sort.
+
+After a week's deplorable luck, his Kafir boy struck work on account of
+a sore in his leg; the sore was due to a very common cause, the burning
+sand had got into a scratch, and festered. Staines, out of humanity,
+examined the sore; and proceeding to clean it, before bandaging, out
+popped a diamond worth forty pounds, even in the depreciated market.
+Staines quietly pocketed it, and bandaged the leg. This made him suspect
+his blacks had been cheating him on a large scale, and he borrowed Hans
+Bulteel to watch them, giving him a third, with which Master Hans was
+mightily pleased. But they could only find small diamonds, and by this
+time prodigious slices of luck were reported on every side. Kafirs and
+Boers that would not dig, but traversed large tracts of ground when the
+sun was shining, stumbled over diamonds. One Boer pointed to a wagon
+and eight oxen, and said that one lucky glance on the sand had given him
+that lot: but day after day Staines returned home, covered with dust,
+and almost blinded, yet with little or nothing to show for it.
+
+One evening, complaining of his change of luck, Bulteel quietly proposed
+to him migration. "I am going," said he resignedly: "and you can come
+with me."
+
+"You leave your farm, sir? Why, they pay you ten shillings a claim, and
+that must make a large return; the pan is fifteen acres."
+
+"Yes, mine vriend," said the poor Hollander, "they pay; but deir money
+it cost too dear. Vere is mine peace? Dis farm is six tousand acres.
+If de cursed diamonds was farther off, den it vas vell. But dey are too
+near. Once I could smoke in peace, and zleep. Now diamonds is come, and
+zleep and peace is fled. Dere is four tousand tents, and to each tent a
+dawg; dat dawg bark at four tousand other dawgs all night, and dey bark
+at him and at each oder. Den de masters of de dawgs dey get angry, and
+fire four tousand pistole at de four tousand dawgs, and make my bed
+shake wid the trembling of mine vrow. My vamily is with diamonds
+infected. Dey vill not vork. Dey takes long valks, and always looks on
+de ground. Mine childre shall be hump-backed, round-shouldered, looking
+down for diamonds. Dey shall forget Gott. He is on high: dere eyes are
+always on de earth. De diggers found a diamond in mine plaster of mine
+wall of mine house. Dat plaster vas limestone; it come from dose kopjes
+de good Gott made in His anger against man for his vickedness. I zay so.
+Dey not believe me. Dey tink dem abominable stones grow in mine house,
+and break out in mine plaster like de measle: dey vaunt to dig in mine
+wall, in mine garden, in mine floor. One day dey shall dig in mine body.
+I vill go. Better I love peace dan money. Here is English company make
+me offer for mine varm. Dey forgive de diamonds."
+
+"You have not accepted it?" cried Staines in alarm.
+
+"No, but I vill. I have said I shall tink of it. Dat is my vay. So I say
+yah."
+
+"An English company? They will cheat you without mercy. No, they shall
+not, though, for I will have a hand in the bargain."
+
+He set to work directly, added up the value of the claims, at ten
+shillings per month, and amazed the poor Hollander by his statement of
+the value of those fifteen acres, capitalized.
+
+And to close this part of the subject, the obnoxious diamonds obtained
+him three times as much as his father had given for the whole six
+thousand acres.
+
+The company got a great bargain, but Bulteel received what for him was a
+large capital, and settling far to the south, this lineal descendant of
+le philosophe sans savoir carried his godliness, his cleanliness, and
+his love of peace, out of the turmoil, and was happier than ever, since
+now he could compare his placid existence with one year of noise and
+clamor.
+
+But long before this, events more pertinent to my story had occurred.
+
+One day, a Hottentot came into Bulteel's farm and went out among the
+diggers, till he found Staines. The Hottentot was one employed at Dale's
+Kloof, and knew him. He brought Staines a letter.
+
+Staines opened the letter, and another letter fell out; it was directed
+to "Reginald Falcon, Esq."
+
+"Why," thought Staines, "what a time this letter must have been on the
+road! So much for private messengers."
+
+The letter ran thus:--
+
+
+DEAR SIR,--This leaves us all well at Dale's Kloof, as I hope it shall
+find you and my dear husband at the diggings. Sir, I am happy to say I
+have good news for you. When you got well by God's mercy, I wrote to
+the doctor at the hospital and told him so. I wrote unbeknown to you,
+because I had promised him. Well, sir, he has written back to say you
+have two hundred pounds in money, and a great many valuable things, such
+as gold and jewels. They are all at the old bank in Cape Town, and the
+cashier has seen you, and will deliver them on demand. So that is the
+first of my good news, because it is good news to you. But, dear sir,
+I think you will be pleased to hear that Dick and I are thriving
+wonderfully, thanks to your good advice. The wooden house it is built,
+and a great oven. But, sir, the traffic came almost before we were
+ready, and the miners that call here, coming and going, every day, you
+would not believe, likewise wagons and carts. It is all bustle, morn
+till night, and dear Reginald will never be dull here now; I hope you
+will be so kind as tell him so, for I do long to see you both home
+again.
+
+Sir, we are making our fortunes. The grain we could not sell at a fair
+price, we sell as bread, and higher than in England ever so much. Tea
+and coffee the same; and the poor things praise us, too, for being so
+moderate. So, sir, Dick bids me say that we owe this to you, and if
+so be you are minded to share, why nothing would please us better.
+Head-piece is always worth money in these parts; and if it hurts your
+pride to be our partner without money, why you can throw in what you
+have at the Cape, though we don't ask that. And, besides, we are offered
+diamonds a bargain every day, but are afraid to deal, for want of
+experience; but if you were in it with us, you must know them well by
+this time, and we might turn many a good pound that way. Dear sir, I
+hope you will not be offended, but I think this is the only way we have,
+Dick and I, to show our respect and good-will.
+
+Dear sir, digging is hard work, and not fit for you and Reginald, that
+are gentlemen, amongst a lot of rough fellows, that their talk makes my
+hair stand on end, though I dare say they mean no harm.
+
+Your bedroom is always ready, sir. I never will let it to any of them,
+hoping now to see you every day. You that know everything, can guess
+how I long to see you both home. My very good fortune seems not to taste
+like good fortune, without those I love and esteem to share it. I shall
+count how many days this letter will take to reach you, and then I shall
+pray for your safety harder than ever, till the blessed hour comes when
+I see my husband, and my good friend, never to part again, I hope, in
+this world.
+
+I am sir, your dutiful servant and friend,
+
+PHOEBE DALE.
+
+P.S. There is regular travelling to and from Cape Town, and a post now
+to Pniel, but I thought it surest to send by one that knows you.
+
+
+Staines read this letter with great satisfaction. He remembered his two
+hundred pounds, but his gold and jewels puzzled him. Still it was good
+news, and pleased him not a little. Phoebe's good fortune gratified
+him too, and her offer of a partnership, especially in the purchase of
+diamonds from returning diggers. He saw a large fortune to be made;
+and wearied and disgusted with recent ill-luck, blear-eyed and almost
+blinded with sorting in the blazing sun, he resolved to go at once to
+Dale's Kloof. Should Mrs. Falcon be gone to England with the diamonds,
+he would stay there, and Rosa should come out to him, or he would go and
+fetch her.
+
+He went home, and washed himself, and told Bulteel he had had good news,
+and should leave the diggings at once. He gave him up the claim, and
+told him to sell it by auction. It was worth two hundred pounds still.
+The good people sympathized with him, and he started within an hour.
+He left his pickaxe and shovel, and took only his double rifle, an
+admirable one, some ammunition, including conical bullets and projectile
+shells given him by Falcon, a bag full of carbuncles and garnets he
+had collected for Ucatella, a few small diamonds, and one hundred
+pounds,--all that remained to him, since he had been paying wages and
+other things for months, and had given Falcon twenty for his journey.
+
+He rode away and soon put twenty miles between him and the diggings.
+
+He came to a little store that bought diamonds and sold groceries and
+tobacco. He haltered his horse to a hook, and went in. He offered a
+small diamond for sale. The master was out, and the assistant said there
+was a glut of these small stones, he did not care to give money for it.
+
+"Well, give me three dozen cigars."
+
+While they were chaffering, in walked a Hottentot, and said, "Will you
+buy this?" and laid a clear, glittering stone on the counter, as large
+as a walnut.
+
+"Yes," said the young man. "How much?"
+
+"Two hundred pounds."
+
+"Two hundred pounds! Let us look at it;" he examined it, and said he
+thought it was a diamond, but these large stones were so deceitful, he
+dared not give two hundred pounds. "Come again in an hour," said he,
+"then the master will be in."
+
+"No," said the Hottentot quietly, and walked out.
+
+Staines, who had been literally perspiring at the sight of this stone,
+mounted his horse and followed the man. When he came up to him, he asked
+leave to examine the gem. The Hottentot quietly assented.
+
+Staines looked at it all over. It had a rough side and a polished side,
+and the latter was of amazing softness and lustre. It made him tremble.
+He said, "Look here, I have only one hundred pounds in my pocket."
+
+The Hottentot shook his head.
+
+"But if you will go back with me to Bulteel's farm, I'll borrow the
+other hundred."
+
+The Hottentot declined, and told him he could get four hundred pounds
+for it by going back to Pniel. "But," said he, "my face is turned so;
+and when Squat turn his face so, he going home. Not can bear go the
+other way then," and he held out his hand for the diamond.
+
+Staines gave it him, and was in despair at seeing such a prize so near,
+yet leaving him.
+
+He made one more effort. "Well, but," said he, "how far are you going
+this way?"
+
+"Ten days."
+
+"Why, so am I. Come with me to Dale's Kloof, and I will give the other
+hundred. See, I am in earnest, for here is one hundred, at all events."
+
+Staines made this proposal, trembling with excitement. To his surprise
+and joy, the Hottentot assented, though with an air of indifference;
+and on these terms they became fellow-travellers, and Staines gave him
+a cigar. They went on side by side, and halted for the night forty miles
+from Bulteel's farm.
+
+They slept in a Boer's out-house, and the vrow was civil, and lent
+Staines a jackal's skin. In the morning he bought it for a diamond, a
+carbuncle, and a score of garnets; for a horrible thought had occurred
+to him, if they stopped at any place where miners were, somebody might
+buy the great diamond over his head. This fear, and others, grew on him,
+and with all his philosophy he went on thorns, and was the slave of the
+diamond.
+
+He resolved to keep his Hottentot all to himself if possible. He shot
+a springbok that crossed the road, and they roasted a portion of the
+animal, and the Hottentot carried some on with him.
+
+Seeing he admired the rifle, Staines offered it him for the odd hundred
+pounds; but though Squat's eye glittered a moment, he declined.
+
+Finding that they met too many diggers and carts, Staines asked his
+Hottentot was there no nearer way to reach that star, pointing to one he
+knew was just over Dale's Kloof.
+
+Oh, yes, he knew a nearer way, where there were trees, and shade, and
+grass, and many beasts to shoot.
+
+"Let us take that way," said Staines.
+
+The Hottentot, ductile as wax, except about the price of the diamond,
+assented calmly; and next day they diverged, and got into forest
+scenery, and their eyes were soothed with green glades here and there,
+wherever the clumps of trees sheltered the grass from the panting sun.
+Animals abounded, and were tame. Staines, an excellent marksman, shot
+the Hottentot his supper without any trouble.
+
+Sleeping in the wood, with not a creature near but Squat, a sombre
+thought struck Staines. Suppose this Hottentot should assassinate him
+for his money, who would ever know? The thought was horrible, and he
+awoke with a start ten times that night. The Hottentot slept like a
+stone, and never feared for his own life and precious booty. Staines was
+compelled to own to himself he had less faith in human goodness than the
+savage had. He said to himself, "He is my superior. He is the master of
+this dreadful diamond, and I am its slave."
+
+Next day they went on till noon, and then they halted at a really
+delightful spot; a silver kloof ran along a bottom, and there was a
+little clump of three acacia-trees that lowered their long tresses,
+pining for the stream, and sometimes getting a cool grateful kiss from
+it when the water was high.
+
+They halted the horse, bathed in the stream, and lay luxurious under the
+acacias. All was delicious languor and enjoyment of life.
+
+The Hottentot made a fire, and burnt the remains of a little sort of
+kangaroo Staines had shot him the evening before; but it did not suffice
+his maw, and looking about him, he saw three elands leisurely feeding
+about three hundred yards off. They were cropping the rich herbage close
+to the shelter of a wood.
+
+The Hottentot suggested that this was an excellent opportunity. He would
+borrow Staines's rifle, steal into the wood, crawl on his belly close up
+to them, and send a bullet through one.
+
+Staines did not relish the proposal. He had seen the savage's eye
+repeatedly gloat on the rifle, and was not without hopes he might even
+yet relent, and give the great diamond for the hundred pounds and
+this rifle; and he was so demoralized by the diamond, and filled with
+suspicion, that he feared the savage, if he once had the rifle in
+his possession, might levant, and be seen no more, in which case he,
+Staines, still the slave of the diamond, might hang himself on the
+nearest tree, and so secure his Rosa the insurance money, at all events.
+In short, he had really diamond on the brain.
+
+He hem'd and haw'd a little at Squat's proposal, and then got out of it
+by saying, "That is not necessary. I can shoot it from here."
+
+"It is too far," objected Blacky.
+
+"Too far! This is an Enfield rifle. I could kill the poor beast at three
+times that distance."
+
+Blacky was amazed. "An Enfield rifle," said he, in the soft musical
+murmur of his tribe, which is the one charm of the poor Hottentot; "and
+shoot three times SO far."
+
+"Yes," said Christopher. Then, seeing his companion's hesitation, he
+conceived a hope. "If I kill that eland from here, will you give me the
+diamond for my horse and the wonderful rifle?--no Hottentot has such a
+rifle."
+
+Squat became cold directly. "The price of the diamond is two hundred
+pounds."
+
+Staines groaned with disappointment, and thought to himself with rage,
+"Anybody but me would club the rifle, give the obstinate black brute a
+stunner, and take the diamond--God forgive me!"
+
+Says the Hottentot cunningly, "I can't think so far as white man. Let me
+see the eland dead, and then I shall know how far the rifle shoot."
+
+"Very well," said Staines. But he felt sure the savage only wanted his
+meal, and would never part with the diamond, except for the odd money.
+
+However, he loaded his left barrel with one of the explosive projectiles
+Falcon had given him; it was a little fulminating shell with a steel
+point. It was with this barrel he had shot the murcat overnight, and he
+had found he shot better with this barrel than the other. He loaded his
+left barrel then, saw the powder well up, capped it and cut away a strip
+of the acacia with his knife to see clear, and lying down in volunteer
+fashion, elbow on ground, drew his bead steadily on an eland who
+presented him her broadside, her back being turned to the wood. The sun
+shone on her soft coat, and never was a fairer mark, the sportsman's
+deadly eye being in the cool shade, the animal in the sun.
+
+He aimed long and steadily. But just as he was about to pull the
+trigger, Mind interposed, and he lowered the deadly weapon. "Poor
+creature!" he said, "I am going to take her life--for what? for a single
+meal. She is as big as a pony; and I am to lay her carcass on the plain,
+that we may eat two pounds of it. This is how the weasel kills the
+rabbit; sucks an ounce of blood for his food, and wastes the rest. So
+the demoralized sheep-dog tears out the poor creature's kidneys, and
+wastes the rest. Man, armed by science with such powers of slaying,
+should be less egotistical than weasels and perverted sheep-dogs. I will
+not kill her. I will not lay that beautiful body of hers low, and glaze
+those tender, loving eyes that never gleamed with hate or rage at man,
+and fix those innocent jaws that never bit the life out of anything, not
+even of the grass she feeds on, and does it more good than harm. Feed
+on, poor innocent. And you be blanked; you and your diamond, that I
+begin to wish I had never seen; for it would corrupt an angel."
+
+Squat understood one word in ten, but he managed to reply. "This is
+nonsense-talk," said he, gravely. "The life is no bigger in that than in
+the murcat you shot last shoot."
+
+"No more it is," said Staines. "I am a fool. It is come to this,
+then; Kafirs teach us theology, and Hottentots morality. I bow to my
+intellectual superior. I'll shoot the eland." He raised his rifle again.
+
+"No, no, no, no, no, no," murmured the Hottentot, in a sweet voice
+scarcely audible, yet so keen in its entreaty, that Staines turned
+hastily round to look at him. His face was ashy, his teeth chattering,
+his limbs shaking. Before Staines could ask him what was the matter,
+he pointed through an aperture of the acacias into the wood hard by the
+elands. Staines looked, and saw what seemed to him like a very long dog,
+or some such animal, crawling from tree to tree. He did not at all
+share the terror of his companion, nor understand it. But a terrible
+explanation followed. This creature, having got to the skirt of the
+wood, expanded, by some strange magic, to an incredible size, and sprang
+into the open, with a growl, a mighty lion; he seemed to ricochet from
+the ground, so immense was his second bound, that carried him to the
+eland, and he struck her one blow on the head with his terrible paw, and
+felled her as if with a thunderbolt: down went her body, with all the
+legs doubled, and her poor head turned over, and the nose kissed the
+ground. The lion stood motionless. Presently the eland, who was not
+dead, but stunned, began to recover and struggle feebly up. Then the
+lion sprang on her with a roar, and rolled her over, and with two
+tremendous bites and a shake, tore her entrails out and laid her dying.
+He sat composedly down, and contemplated her last convulsions, without
+touching her again.
+
+At this roar, though not loud, the horse, though he had never heard or
+seen a lion, trembled, and pulled at his halter.
+
+Blacky crept into the water; and Staines was struck with such an awe as
+he had never felt. Nevertheless, the king of beasts being at a distance,
+and occupied, and Staines a brave man, and out of sight, he kept
+his ground and watched, and by those means saw a sight never to be
+forgotten. The lion rose up, and stood in the sun incredibly beautiful
+as well as terrible. He was not the mangy hue of the caged lion, but a
+skin tawny, golden, glossy as a race-horse, and of exquisite tint that
+shone like pure gold in the sun; his eye a lustrous jewel of richest
+hue, and his mane sublime. He looked towards the wood, and uttered a
+full roar. This was so tremendous that the horse shook all over as if in
+an ague, and began to lather. Staines recoiled, and his flesh crept, and
+the Hottentot went under water, and did not emerge for ever so long.
+
+After a pause, the lion roared again, and all the beasts and birds of
+prey seemed to know the meaning of that terrible roar. Till then the
+place had been a solitude, but now it began to fill in the strangest
+way, as if the lord of the forest could call all his subjects together
+with a trumpet roar: first came two lion cubs, to whom, in fact, the
+roar had been addressed. The lion rubbed himself several times against
+the eland, but did not eat a morsel, and the cubs went in and feasted
+on the prey. The lion politely and paternally drew back, and watched the
+young people enjoying themselves.
+
+Meantime approached, on tiptoe, jackals and hyenas, but dared not come
+too near. Slate-colored vultures settled at a little distance, but not
+a soul dared interfere with the cubs; they saw the lion was acting
+sentinel, and they knew better than come near.
+
+After a time, papa feared for the digestion of those brats, or else his
+own mouth watered; for he came up, knocked them head over heels with his
+velvet paw, and they took the gentle hint, and ran into the wood double
+quick.
+
+Then the lion began tearing away at the eland, and bolting huge morsels
+greedily. This made the rabble's mouth water. The hyenas, and jackals,
+and vultures formed a circle ludicrous to behold, and that circle kept
+narrowing as the lion tore away at his prey. They increased in number,
+and at last hunger overcame prudence; the rear rank shoved on the front,
+as amongst men, and a general attack seemed imminent.
+
+Then the lion looked up at these invaders, uttered a reproachful growl,
+and went at them, patting them right and left, and knocking them over.
+He never touched a vulture, nor indeed did he kill an animal. He was a
+lion, and only killed to eat; yet he soon cleared the place, because
+he knocked over a few hyenas and jackals, and the rest, being active,
+tumbled over the vultures before they could spread their heavy wings.
+After this warning, they made a respectful circle again, through which,
+in due course, the gorged lion stalked into the wood.
+
+A savage's sentiments change quickly, and the Hottentot, fearing little
+from a full lion, was now giggling at Staines's side. Staines asked him
+which he thought was the lord of all creatures, a man or a lion.
+
+"A lion," said Blacky, amazed at such a shallow question.
+
+Staines now got up, and proposed to continue their journey. But Blacky
+was for waiting till the lion was gone to sleep after his meal.
+
+While they discussed the question, the lion burst out of the wood
+within hearing of their voices, as his pricked-up ears showed, and made
+straight for them at a distance of scarcely thirty yards.
+
+Now, the chances are, the lion knew nothing about them, and only came to
+drink at the kloof, after his meal, and perhaps lie under the acacias:
+but who can think calmly, when his first lion bursts out on him a few
+paces off? Staines shouldered his rifle, took a hasty, flurried aim, and
+sent a bullet at him.
+
+If he had missed him, perhaps the report might have turned the lion; but
+he wounded him, and not mortally. Instantly the enraged beast uttered
+a terrific roar, and came at him with his mane distended with rage, his
+eyes glaring, his mouth open, and his whole body dilated with fury.
+
+At that terrible moment, Staines recovered his wits enough to see that
+what little chance he had was to fire into the destroyer, not at him. He
+kneeled, and levelled at the centre of the lion's chest, and not till he
+was within five yards did he fire. Through the smoke he saw the lion in
+the air above him, and rolled shrieking into the stream and crawled like
+a worm under the bank, by one motion, and there lay trembling. A few
+seconds of sick stupor passed: all was silent. Had the lion lost him?
+Was it possible he might yet escape?
+
+All was silent.
+
+He listened, in agony, for the sniffing of the lion, puzzling him out by
+scent.
+
+No: all was silent.
+
+Staines looked round, and saw a woolly head, and two saucer eyes and
+open nostrils close by him. It was the Hottentot, more dead than alive.
+
+Staines whispered him, "I think he is gone."
+
+The Hottentot whispered, "Gone a little way to watch. He is wise as well
+as strong." With this he disappeared beneath the water.
+
+Still no sound but the screaming of the vultures, and snarling of the
+hyenas and jackals over the eland.
+
+"Take a look," said Staines.
+
+"Yes," said Squat; "but not to-day. Wait here a day or two. Den he
+forget and forgive."
+
+Now Staines, having seen the lion lie down and watch the dying eland,
+was a great deal impressed by this; and as he had now good hopes of
+saving his life, he would not throw away a chance. He kept his head just
+above water, and never moved.
+
+In this freezing situation they remained.
+
+Presently there was a rustling that made both crouch.
+
+It was followed by a croaking noise.
+
+Christopher made himself small.
+
+The Hottentot, on the contrary, raised his head, and ventured a little
+way into the stream.
+
+By these means he saw it was something very foul, but not terrible.
+It was a large vulture that had settled on the very top of the nearest
+acacia.
+
+At this the Hottentot got bolder still, and to the great surprise of
+Staines began to crawl cautiously into some rushes, and through them up
+the bank.
+
+The next moment he burst into a mixture of yelling and chirping and
+singing, and other sounds so manifestly jubilant, that the vulture
+flapped heavily away, and Staines emerged in turn, but very cautiously.
+
+Could he believe his eyes? There lay the lion, dead as a stone, on his
+back, with his four legs in the air, like wooden legs, they were so very
+dead: and the valiant Squat, dancing about him, and on him, and over
+him.
+
+Staines, unable to change his sentiments so quickly, eyed even the dead
+body of the royal beast with awe and wonder. What! had he already laid
+that terrible monarch low, and with a tube made in a London shop by men
+who never saw a lion spring, nor heard his awful roar shake the air?
+He stood with his heart still beating, and said not a word. The shallow
+Hottentot whipped out a large knife, and began to skin the king of
+beasts. Staines wondered he could so profane that masterpiece of nature.
+He felt more inclined to thank God for so great a preservation, and then
+pass reverently on, and leave the dead king undesecrated.
+
+He was roused from his solemn thoughts by the reflection that there
+might be a lioness about, since there were cubs: he took a piece of
+paper, emptied his remaining powder into it, and proceeded to dry it in
+the sun. This was soon done, and then he loaded both barrels.
+
+By this time the adroit Hottentot had flayed the carcass sufficiently
+to reveal the mortal injury. The projectile had entered the chest, and
+slanting upwards, had burst among the vitals, reducing them to a gory
+pulp. The lion must have died in the air, when he bounded on receiving
+the fatal shot.
+
+The Hottentot uttered a cry of admiration. "Not the lion king of all,
+nor even the white man," he said; "but Enfeel rifle!"
+
+Staines's eyes glittered. "You shall have it, and the horse, for your
+diamond," said he eagerly.
+
+The black seemed a little shaken; but did not reply. He got out of it
+by going on with his lion; and Staines eyed him, and was bitterly
+disappointed at not getting the diamond even on these terms. He began to
+feel he should never get it: they were near the high-road; he could not
+keep the Hottentot to himself much longer. He felt sick at heart. He had
+wild and wicked thoughts; half hoped the lioness would come and kill the
+Hottentot, and liberate the jewel that possessed his soul.
+
+At last the skin was off, and the Hottentot said, "Me take this to my
+kraal, and dey all say, 'Squat a great shooter; kill um lion.'"
+
+Then Staines saw another chance for him, and summoned all his address
+for a last effort. "No, Squat," said he, "that skin belongs to me. I
+shot the lion, with the only rifle that can kill a lion like a cat. Yet
+you would not give me a diamond--a paltry stone for it. No, Squat, if
+you were to go into your village with that lion's skin, why the old men
+would bend their heads to you, and say, 'Great is Squat! He killed the
+lion, and wears his skin.' The young women would all fight which should
+be the wife of Squat. Squat would be king of the village."
+
+Squat's eyes began to roll.
+
+"And shall I give the skin, and the glory that is my due, to an
+ill-natured fellow, who refuses me his paltry diamond for a
+good horse--look at him--and for the rifle that kills lions like
+rabbits--behold it; and a hundred pounds in good gold and Dutch
+notes--see; and for the lion's skin, and glory, and honor, and a rich
+wife, and to be king of Africa? Never!"
+
+The Hottentot's hands and toes began to work convulsively. "Good master,
+Squat ask pardon. Squat was blind. Squat will give the diamond, the
+great diamond of Africa, for the lion's skin, and the king rifle, and
+the little horse, and the gold, and Dutch notes every one of them. Dat
+make just two hundred pounds."
+
+"More like four hundred," cried Staines very loud. "And how do I know
+it is a diamond? These large stones are the most deceitful. Show it me,
+this instant," said he imperiously.
+
+"Iss, master," said the crushed Hottentot, with the voice of a mouse,
+and put the stone into his hand with a child-like faith that almost
+melted Staines; but he saw he must be firm. "Where did you find it?" he
+bawled.
+
+"Master," said poor Squat, in deprecating tones, "my little master at
+the farm wanted plaster. He send to Bulteel's pan; dere was large lumps.
+Squat say to miners, 'May we take de large lumps? Dey say, 'Yes; take de
+cursed lumps we no can break.' We took de cursed lumps. We ride 'em in
+de cart to farm twenty milses. I beat 'em with my hammer. Dey is very
+hard. More dey break my heart dan I break their cursed heads. One day I
+use strong words, like white man, and I hit one large lump too hard; he
+break, and out come de white clear stone. Iss, him diamond. Long time we
+know him in our kraal, because he hard. Long time before ever white man
+know him, tousand years ago, we find him, and he make us lilly hole in
+big stone for make wheat dust. Him a diamond, blank my eyes!"
+
+This was intended as a solemn form of asseveration adapted to the white
+man's habits.
+
+Yes, reader, he told the truth; and strange to say, the miners knew
+the largest stones were in these great lumps of carbonate, but then the
+lumps were so cruelly hard, they lost all patience with them, and so,
+finding it was no use to break some of them, and not all, they rejected
+them all, with curses; and thus this great stone was carted away as
+rubbish from the mine, and found, like a toad in a hole, by Squat.
+
+"Well," said Christopher, "after all, you are an honest fellow, and I
+think I will buy it; but first you must show me out of this wood; I am
+not going to be eaten alive in it for want of the king of rifles."
+
+Squat assented eagerly, and they started at once. They passed the
+skeleton of the eland; its very bones were polished, and its head
+carried into the wood; and looking back they saw vultures busy on the
+lion. They soon cleared the wood.
+
+Squat handed Staines the diamond--when it touched his hand, as his
+own, a bolt of ice seemed to run down his back, and hot water to follow
+it--and the money, horse, rifle, and skin were made over to Squat.
+
+"Shake hands over it, Squat," said Staines; "you are hard, but you are
+honest."
+
+"Iss, master, I a good much hard and honest," said Squat.
+
+"Good-by, old fellow."
+
+"Good-by, master."
+
+And Squat strutted away, with the halter in his hand, horse following
+him, rifle under his arm, and the lion's skin over his shoulders, and
+the tail trailing, a figure sublime in his own eyes, ridiculous in
+creation's. So vanity triumphed, even in the wilds of Africa.
+
+Staines hurried forward on foot, loading his revolver as he went, for
+the very vicinity of the wood alarmed him now that he had parted with
+his trusty rifle.
+
+That night he lay down on the open veldt, in his jackal's skin, with
+no weapon but his revolver, and woke with a start a dozen times. Just
+before daybreak he scanned the stars carefully, and noting exactly where
+the sun rose, made a rough guess at his course, and followed it till the
+sun was too hot; then he crept under a ragged bush, hung up his jackal's
+skin, and sweated there, parched with thirst, and gnawed with hunger.
+When it was cooler, he crept on, and found water, but no food. He was in
+torture, and began to be frightened, for he was in a desert. He found an
+ostrich egg and ate it ravenously.
+
+Next day, hunger took a new form, faintness. He could not walk for it;
+his jackal's skin oppressed him; he lay down exhausted. A horror seized
+his dejected soul. The diamond! It would be his death. No man must so
+long for any earthly thing as he had for this glittering traitor. "Oh!
+my good horse! my trusty rifle!" he cried. "For what have I thrown you
+away? For starvation. Misers have been found stretched over their gold;
+and some day my skeleton will be found, and nothing to tell the base
+death I died of and deserved; nothing but the cursed diamond. Ay, fiend,
+glare in my eyes, do!" He felt delirium creeping over him; and at that a
+new terror froze him. His reason, that he had lost once, was he to lose
+it again? He prayed; he wept; he dozed, and forgot all. When he woke
+again, a cool air was fanning his cheeks; it revived him a little; it
+became almost a breeze.
+
+And this breeze, as it happened, carried on its wings the curse of
+Africa. There loomed in the north-west a cloud of singular density, that
+seemed to expand in size as it drew nearer, yet to be still more
+solid, and darken the air. It seemed a dust-storm. Staines took out his
+handkerchief, prepared to wrap his face in it, not to be stifled.
+
+But soon there was a whirring and a whizzing, and hundreds of locusts
+flew over his head; they were followed by thousands, the swiftest of the
+mighty host. They thickened and thickened, till the air looked solid,
+and even that glaring sun was blackened by the rushing mass. Birds of
+all sorts whirled above, and swooped among them. They peppered Staines
+all over like shot. They stuck in his beard, and all over him; they
+clogged the bushes, carpeted the ground, while the darkened air sang
+as with the whirl of machinery. Every bird in the air, and beast of the
+field, granivorous or carnivorous, was gorged with them; and to these
+animals was added man, for Staines, being famished, and remembering the
+vrow Bulteel, lighted a fire, and roasted a handful or two on a
+flat stone; they were delicious. The fire once lighted, they cooked
+themselves, for they kept flying into it. Three hours, without
+interruption, did they darken nature, and, before the column ceased,
+all the beasts of the field came after, gorging them so recklessly, that
+Staines could have shot an antelope dead with his pistol within a yard
+of him.
+
+But to tell the horrible truth, the cooked locusts were so nice that he
+preferred to gorge on them along with the other animals.
+
+He roasted another lot, for future use, and marched on with a good
+heart.
+
+But now he got on some rough, scrubby ground, and damaged his shoes, and
+tore his trousers.
+
+This lasted a terrible distance; but at the end of it came the usual
+arid ground; and at last he came upon the track of wheels and hoofs.
+He struck it at an acute angle, and that showed him he had made a good
+line. He limped along it a little way, slowly, being footsore.
+
+By and by, looking back, he saw a lot of rough fellows swaggering along
+behind him. Then he was alarmed, terribly alarmed, for his diamond; he
+tore a strip of his handkerchief, and tied the stone cunningly under his
+armpit as he hobbled on.
+
+The men came up with him.
+
+"Hallo, mate! Come from the diggings?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What luck?"
+
+"Very good."
+
+"Haw! haw! What! found a fifty-carat? Show it us."
+
+"We found five big stones, my mate and me. He is gone to Cape Town to
+sell them. I had no luck when he had left me, so I have cut it; going to
+turn farmer. Can you tell me how far it is to Dale's Kloof?"
+
+No, they could not tell him that. They swung on; and, to Staines, their
+backs were a cordial, as we say in Scotland.
+
+However, his travels were near an end. Next morning he saw Dale's Kloof
+in the distance; and as soon as the heat moderated, he pushed on,
+with one shoe and tattered trousers; and half an hour before sunset he
+hobbled up to the place.
+
+It was all bustle. Travellers at the door; their wagons and carts under
+a long shed.
+
+Ucatella was the first to see him coming, and came and fawned on him
+with delight. Her eyes glistened, her teeth gleamed. She patted both
+his cheeks, and then his shoulders, and even his knees, and then flew
+in-doors crying, "My doctor child is come home!" This amused three
+travellers, and brought out Dick, with a hearty welcome.
+
+"But Lordsake, sir, why have you come afoot; and a rough road too? Look
+at your shoes. Hallo! What is come of the horse?"
+
+"I exchanged him for a diamond."
+
+"The deuce you did! And the rifle?"
+
+"Exchanged that for the same diamond."
+
+"It ought to be a big 'un."
+
+"It is."
+
+Dick made a wry face. "Well, sir, you know best. You are welcome, on
+horse or afoot. You are just in time; Phoebe and me are just sitting
+down to dinner."
+
+He took him into a little room they had built for their own privacy, for
+they liked to be quiet now and then, being country bred; and Phoebe was
+putting their dinner on the table, when Staines limped in.
+
+She gave a joyful cry, and turned red all over. "Oh, doctor!" Then his
+travel-torn appearance struck her. "But, dear heart! what a figure!
+Where's Reginald? Oh, he's not far off, I know."
+
+And she flung open the window, and almost flew through it in a moment,
+to look for her husband.
+
+"Reginald?" said Staines. Then turning to Dick Dale, "Why, he is
+here--isn't he?"
+
+"No, sir: not without he is just come with you."
+
+"With me?--no. You know we parted at the diggings. Come, Mr. Dale, he
+may not be here now; but he has been here. He must have been here."
+
+Phoebe, who had not lost a word, turned round, with all her high color
+gone, and her cheeks getting paler and paler. "Oh, Dick! what is this?"
+
+"I don't understand it," said Dick. "Whatever made you think he was
+here, sir?"
+
+"Why, I tell you he left me to come here."
+
+"Left you, sir!" faltered Phoebe. "Why, when?--where?"
+
+"At the diggings--ever so long ago."
+
+"Blank him! that is just like him; the uneasy fool!" roared Dick.
+
+"No, Mr. Dale, you should not say that; he left me, with my consent,
+to come to Mrs. Falcon here, and consult her about disposing of our
+diamonds."
+
+"Diamonds!--diamonds!" cried Phoebe. "Oh, they make me tremble. How
+COULD you let him go alone! You didn't let HIM go on foot, I hope?"
+
+"Oh, no, Mrs. Falcon; he had his horse, and his rifle, and money to
+spend on the road."
+
+"How long ago did he leave you, sir?"
+
+"I--I am sorry to say it was five weeks ago."
+
+"Five weeks! and not come yet. Ah! the wild beasts!--the diggers!--the
+murderers! He is dead!"
+
+"God forbid!" faltered Staines; but his own blood began to run cold.
+
+"He is dead. He has died between this and the dreadful diamonds. I shall
+never see my darling again: he is dead. He is dead."
+
+She rushed out of the room, and out of the house, throwing her arms
+above her head in despair, and uttering those words of agony again and
+again in every variety of anguish.
+
+At such horrible moments women always swoon--if we are to believe the
+dramatists. I doubt if there is one grain of truth in this. Women seldom
+swoon at all, unless their bodies are unhealthy, or weakened by the
+reaction that follows so terrible a shock as this. At all events,
+Phoebe, at first, was strong and wild as a lion, and went to and fro
+outside the house, unconscious of her body's motion, frenzied with
+agony, and but one word on her lips, "He is dead!--he is dead!"
+
+Dick followed her, crying like a child, but master of himself; he got
+his people about her, and half carried her in again; then shut the door
+in all their faces.
+
+He got the poor creature to sit down, and she began to rock and moan,
+with her apron over her head, and her brown hair loose about her.
+
+"Why should he be dead?" said Dick. "Don't give a man up like that,
+Phoebe. Doctor, tell us more about it. Oh, man, how could you let him
+out of your sight? You knew how fond the poor creature was of him."
+
+"But that was it, Mr. Dale," said Staines. "I knew his wife must pine
+for him; and we had found six large diamonds, and a handful of small
+ones; but the market was glutted; and to get a better price, he wanted
+to go straight to Cape Town. But I said, 'No; go and show them to your
+wife, and see whether she will go to Cape Town.'"
+
+Phoebe began to listen, as was evident by her moaning more softly.
+
+"Might he not have gone straight to Cape Town?" Staines hazarded this
+timidly.
+
+"Why should he do that, sir? Dale's Kloof is on the road."
+
+"Only on one road. Mr. Dale, he was well armed, with rifle and revolver;
+and I cautioned him not to show a diamond on the road. Who would molest
+him? Diamonds don't show, like gold. Who was to know he had three
+thousand pounds hidden under his armpits, and in two barrels of his
+revolver?"
+
+"Three thousand pounds!" cried Dale. "You trusted HIM with three
+thousand pounds?"
+
+"Certainly. They were worth about three thousand pounds in Cape Town,
+and half as much again in"--
+
+Phoebe started up in a moment. "Thank God!" she cried. "There's hope for
+me. Oh, Dick, he is not dead: HE HAS ONLY DESERTED ME."
+
+And with these strange and pitiable words, she fell to sobbing as if her
+great heart would burst at last.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+
+There came a reaction, and Phoebe was prostrated with grief and alarm.
+Her brother never doubted now that Reginald had run to Cape Town for a
+lark. But Phoebe, though she thought so too, could not be sure; and so
+the double agony of bereavement and desertion tortured her by turns, and
+almost together. For the first time these many years, she was so crushed
+she could not go about her business, but lay on a little sofa in her own
+room, and had the blinds down, for her head ached so she could not bear
+the light.
+
+She conceived a bitter resentment against Staines; and told Dick never
+to let him into her sight, if he did not want to be her death.
+
+In vain Dick made excuses for him: she would hear none. For once she
+was as unreasonable as any other living woman: she could see nothing but
+that she had been happy, after years of misery, and should be happy now
+if this man had never entered her house. "Ah, Collie!" she cried, "you
+were wiser than I was. You as good as told me he would make me smart for
+lodging and curing him. And I was SO happy!"
+
+Dale communicated this as delicately as he could to Staines. Christopher
+was deeply grieved and wounded. He thought it unjust, but he knew it
+was natural: he said, humbly, "I feel guilty myself, Mr. Dale; and yet,
+unless I had possessed omniscience, what could I do? I thought of her in
+all--poor thing! poor thing!"
+
+The tears were in his eyes, and Dick Dale went away scratching his head
+and thinking it over. The more he thought, the less he was inclined to
+condemn him.
+
+Staines himself was much troubled in mind, and lived on thorns. He
+wanted to be off to England; grudged every day, every hour, he spent in
+Africa. But Mrs. Falcon was his benefactress; he had been, for months
+and months, garnering up a heap of gratitude towards her. He had not
+the heart to leave her bad friends, and in misery. He kept hoping Falcon
+would return, or write.
+
+Two days after his return, he was seated, disconsolate, gluing garnets
+and carbuncles on to a broad tapering bit of lambskin, when Ucatella
+came to him and said, "My doctor child sick?"
+
+"No, not sick: but miserable." And he explained to her, as well as he
+could, what had passed. "But," said he, "I would not mind the loss of
+the diamonds now, if I was only sure he was alive. I think most of poor,
+poor Mrs. Falcon."
+
+While Ucatella pondered this, but with one eye of demure curiosity on
+the coronet he was making, he told her it was for her--he had not forgot
+her at the mines.
+
+"These stones," said he, "are not valued there; but see how glorious
+they are!"
+
+In a few minutes he had finished the coronet, and gave it her. She
+uttered a chuckle of delight, and with instinctive art, bound it, in a
+turn of her hand, about her brow; and then Staines himself was struck
+dumb with amazement. The carbuncles gathered from those mines look like
+rubies, so full of fire are they, and of enormous size. The chaplet had
+twelve great carbuncles in the centre, and went off by gradations into
+smaller garnets by the thousand. They flashed their blood-red flames in
+the African sun, and the head of Ucatella, grand before, became the head
+of the Sphinx, encircled with a coronet of fire. She bestowed a look of
+rapturous gratitude on Staines, and then glided away, like the stately
+Juno, to admire herself in the nearest glass like any other coquette,
+black, brown, yellow, copper, or white.
+
+That very day, towards sunset, she burst upon Staines quite suddenly,
+with her coronet gleaming on her magnificent head, and her eyes like
+coals of fire, and under her magnificent arm, hard as a rock, a boy
+kicking and struggling in vain. She was furiously excited, and, for the
+first time, showed signs of the savage in the whites of her eyes,
+which seemed to turn the glorious pupils into semicircles. She clutched
+Staines by the shoulder with her left hand, and swept along with
+the pair, like dark Fate, or as potent justice sweeps away a pair of
+culprits, and carried them to the little window, and cried "Open--open!"
+
+Dick Dale was at dinner; Phoebe lying down. Dick got up, rather crossly,
+and threw open the window. "What is up now?" said he crossly: he was
+like two or three more Englishmen--hated to be bothered at dinner-time.
+
+"Dar," screamed Ucatella, setting down Tim, but holding him tight by the
+shoulder; "now you tell what you see that night, you lilly Kafir trash;
+if you not tell, I kill you DEAD;" and she showed the whites of her
+eyes, like a wild beast.
+
+Tim, thoroughly alarmed, quivered out that he had seen lilly master ride
+up to the gate one bright night, and look in, and Tim thought he was
+going in: but he changed his mind, and galloped away that way; and the
+monkey pointed south.
+
+"And why couldn't you tell us this before?" questioned Dick.
+
+"Me mind de sheep," said Tim apologetically. "Me not mind de lilly
+master: jackals not eat him."
+
+"You no more sense dan a sheep yourself," said Ucatella loftily.
+
+"No, no: God bless you both," cried poor Phoebe: "now I know the worst:"
+and a great burst of tears relieved her suffering heart.
+
+Dick went out softly. When he got outside the door, he drew them all
+apart, and said, "Yuke, you ARE a good-hearted girl. I'll never forget
+this while I live; and, Tim, there's a shilling for thee; but don't you
+go and spend it in Cape smoke; that is poison to whites, and destruction
+to blacks."
+
+"No, master," said Tim. "I shall buy much bread, and make my tomach
+tiff;" then, with a glance of reproach at the domestic caterer,
+Ucatella, "I almost never have my tomach tiff."
+
+Dick left his sister alone an hour or two, to have her cry out.
+
+When he went back to her there was a change: the brave woman no longer
+lay prostrate. She went about her business; only she was always either
+crying or drowning her tears.
+
+He brought Dr. Staines in. Phoebe instantly turned her back on him with
+a shudder there was no mistaking.
+
+"I had better go," said Staines. "Mrs. Falcon will never forgive me."
+
+"She will have to quarrel with me else," said Dick steadily. "Sit you
+down, doctor. Honest folk like you and me and Phoebe wasn't made to
+quarrel for want of looking a thing all round. My sister she hasn't
+looked it all round, and I have. Come, Pheeb, 'tis no use your blinding
+yourself. How was the poor doctor to know your husband is a blackguard?"
+
+"He is not a blackguard. How dare you say that to my face?"
+
+"He is a blackguard, and always was. And now he is a thief to boot. He
+has stolen those diamonds; you know that very well."
+
+"Gently, Mr. Dale; you forget: they are as much his as mine."
+
+"Well, and if half a sheep is mine, and I take the whole and sell him,
+and keep the money, what is that but stealing? Why, I wonder at you,
+Pheeb. You was always honest yourself, and yet you see the doctor robbed
+by your man, and that does not trouble you. What has he done to deserve
+it? He has been a good friend to us. He has put us on the road. We did
+little more than keep the pot boiling before he came--well, yes, we
+stored grain; but whose advice has turned that grain to gold, I might
+say? Well, what's his offence? He trusted the diamonds to your man, and
+sent him to you. Is he the first honest man that has trusted a rogue?
+How was he to know? Likely he judged the husband by the wife. Answer me
+one thing, Pheeb. If he makes away with fifteen hundred pounds that
+is his, or partly yours--for he has eaten your bread ever since I knew
+him--and fifteen hundred more that is the doctor's, where shall we find
+fifteen hundred pounds, all in a moment, to pay the doctor back his
+own?"
+
+"My honest friend," said Staines, "you are tormenting yourself with
+shadows. I don't believe Mr. Falcon will wrong me of a shilling; and,
+if he does, I shall quietly repay myself out of the big diamond. Yes, my
+dear friends, I did not throw away your horse, nor your rifle, nor your
+money: I gave them all, and the lion's skin--I gave them all--for this."
+
+And he laid the big diamond on the table.
+
+It was as big as a walnut, and of the purest water.
+
+Dick Dale glanced at it stupidly. Phoebe turned her back on it, with a
+cry of horror, and then came slowly round by degrees; and her eyes were
+fascinated by the royal gem.
+
+"Yes," said Staines sadly, "I had to strip myself of all to buy it, and,
+when I had got it, how proud I was, and how happy I thought we should
+all be over it, for it is half yours, half mine. Yes, Mr. Dale, there
+lies six thousand pounds that belong to Mrs. Falcon."
+
+"Six thousand pounds!" cried Dick.
+
+"I'm sure of it. And so, if your suspicions are correct, and poor Falcon
+should yield to a sudden temptation, and spend all that money, I shall
+just coolly deduct it from your share of this wonderful stone: so make
+your mind easy. But no; if Falcon is really so wicked as to desert his
+happy home, and so mad as to spend thousands in a month or two, let us
+go and save him."
+
+"That is my business," said Phoebe. "I am going in the mail-cart
+to-morrow."
+
+"Well, you won't go alone," said Dick.
+
+"Mrs. Falcon," said Staines imploringly, "let me go with you."
+
+"Thank you, sir. My brother can take care of me."
+
+"Me! You had better not take me. If I catch hold of him, by --- I'll
+break his neck, or his back, or his leg, or something; he'll never run
+away from you again, if I lay hands on him," replied Dick.
+
+"I'll go alone. You are both against me."
+
+"No, Mrs. Falcon; I am not," said Staines. "My heart bleeds for you."
+
+"Don't you demean yourself, praying her," said Dick. "It's a public
+conveyance: you have no need to ask HER leave."
+
+"That is true: I can't hinder folk from going to Cape Town the same
+day," said Phoebe sullenly.
+
+"If I might presume to advise, I would take little Tommy."
+
+"What! all that road? Do you want me to lose my child, as well as my
+man?"
+
+"O Mrs. Falcon!"
+
+"Don't speak to her, doctor, to get your nose snapped off. Give her
+time. She'll come to her senses before she dies."
+
+Next day Mrs. Falcon and Staines started for Cape Town. Staines paid
+her every attention, when opportunity offered. But she was sullen and
+gloomy, and held no converse with him.
+
+He landed her at an inn, and then told her he would go at once to the
+jeweller's. He asked her piteously would she lend him a pound or two to
+prosecute his researches. She took out her purse, without a word, and
+lent him two pounds.
+
+He began to scour the town: the jewellers he visited could tell him
+nothing. At last he came to a shop, and there he found Mrs. Falcon
+making her inquiries independently. She said coldly, "You had better
+come with me, and get your money and things."
+
+She took him to the bank--it happened to be the one she did business
+with--and said, "This is Dr. Christie, come for his money and jewels."
+
+There was some demur at this; but the cashier recognized him, and Phoebe
+making herself responsible, the money and jewels were handed over.
+
+Staines whispered Phoebe, "Are you sure the jewels are mine?"
+
+"They were found on you, sir."
+
+Staines took them, looking confused. He did not know what to think. When
+they got into the street again, he told her it was very kind of her to
+think of his interest at all.
+
+No answer: she was not going to make friends with him over such a trifle
+as that.
+
+By degrees, however, Christopher's zeal on her behalf broke the ice; and
+besides, as the search proved unavailing, she needed sympathy; and he
+gave it her, and did not abuse her husband as Dick Dale did.
+
+One day, in the street, after a long thought, she said to him, "Didn't
+you say, sir, you gave him a letter for me?"
+
+"I gave him two letters; one of them was to you."
+
+"Could you remember what you said in it?"
+
+"Perfectly. I begged you, if you should go to England, to break the
+truth to my wife. She is very excitable; and sudden joy has killed ere
+now. I gave you particular instructions."
+
+"And you were very wise. But whatever could make you think I would go to
+England?"
+
+"He told me you only wanted an excuse."
+
+"Oh!!"
+
+"When he told me that, I caught at it, of course. It was all the world
+to me to get my Rosa told by such a kind, good, sensible friend as you;
+and, Mrs. Falcon, I had no scruple about troubling you, because I knew
+the stones would sell for at least a thousand pounds more in England
+than here, and that would pay your expenses."
+
+"I see, sir; I see. 'Twas very natural: you love your wife."
+
+"Better than my life."
+
+"And he told you I only wanted an excuse to go to England?"
+
+"He did, indeed. It was not true?"
+
+"It was anything but true. I had suffered so in England; I had been so
+happy here: too happy to last. Ah! well, it is all over. Let us think
+of the matter in hand. Sure that was not the only letter you gave my
+husband? Didn't you write to HER?"
+
+"Of course I did; but that was enclosed to you, and not to be given to
+her until you had broken the joyful news to her. Yes, Mrs. Falcon, I
+wrote and told her everything: my loss at sea; how I was saved,
+after, by your kindness. Our journeys, from Cape Town, and then to the
+diggings; my sudden good fortune, my hopes, my joy--O my poor Rosa! and
+now I suppose she will never get it. It is too cruel of him. I shall
+go home by the next steamer. I CAN'T stay here any longer, for you or
+anybody. Oh, and I enclosed my ruby ring that she gave me, for I thought
+she might not believe you without that."
+
+"Let me think," said Phoebe, turning ashy pale. "For mercy's sake, let
+me think!
+
+"He has read both those letters, sir.
+
+"She will never see hers: any more than I shall see mine."
+
+She paused again, thinking harder and harder.
+
+"We must take two places in the next mail steamer. I must look after my
+husband, AND YOU AFTER YOUR WIFE."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+
+Mrs. Falcon's bitter feeling against Dr. Staines did not subside; it
+merely went out of sight a little. They were thrown together by potent
+circumstances, and in a manner connected by mutual obligations; so
+an open rupture seemed too unnatural. Still Phoebe was a woman, and,
+blinded by her love for her husband, could not forgive the innocent
+cause of their present unhappy separation; though the fault lay entirely
+with Falcon.
+
+Staines took her on board the steamer, and paid her every attention. She
+was also civil to him; but it was a cold and constrained civility.
+
+About a hundred miles from land the steamer stopped, and the passengers
+soon learned there was something wrong with her machinery. In fact,
+after due consultation, the captain decided to put back.
+
+This irritated and distressed Mrs. Falcon so that the captain, desirous
+to oblige her, hailed a fast schooner, that tacked across her bows, and
+gave Mrs. Falcon the option of going back with him, or going on in the
+schooner, with whose skipper he was acquainted.
+
+Staines advised her on no account to trust to sails, when she could have
+steam with only a delay of four or five days; but she said, "Anything
+sooner than go back. I can't, I can't on such an errand."
+
+Accordingly she was put on board the schooner, and Staines, after some
+hesitation, felt bound to accompany her.
+
+It proved a sad error. Contrary winds assailed them the very next day,
+and with such severity that they had repeatedly to lie to.
+
+On one of these occasions, with a ship reeling under them like a restive
+horse, and the waves running mountains high, poor Phoebe's terrors
+overmastered both her hostility and her reserve. "Doctor," said she, "I
+believe 'tis God's will we shall never see England. I must try and die
+more like a Christian than I have lived, forgiving all who have wronged
+me, and you, that have been my good friend and my worst enemy, but you
+did not mean it. Sir, what has turned me against you so--your wife was
+my husband's sweetheart before he married me."
+
+"My wife your husband's--you are dreaming."
+
+"Nay, sir, once she came to my shop, and I saw directly I was nothing to
+him, and he owned it all to me; he had courted her, and she jilted him;
+so he said. Why should he tell me a lie about that? I'd lay my life 'tis
+true. And now you have sent him to her your own self; and, at sight of
+her, I shall be nothing again. Well, when this ship goes down, they can
+marry, and I hope he will be happy, happier than I can make him, that
+tried my best, God knows."
+
+This conversation surprised Staines not a little. However, he said, with
+great warmth, it was false. His wife had danced and flirted with some
+young gentleman at one time, when there was a brief misunderstanding
+between him and her, but sweetheart she had never had, except him. He
+courted her fresh from school. "Now, my good soul," said he, "make your
+mind easy; the ship is a good one, and well handled, and in no danger
+whatever, and my wife is in no danger from your husband. Since you and
+your brother tell me that he is a villain, I am bound to believe you.
+But my wife is an angel. In our miserable hour of parting, she vowed
+not to marry again, should I be taken from her. Marry again! what am I
+talking of? Why, if he visits her at all, it will be to let her know I
+am alive, and give her my letter. Do you mean to tell me she will listen
+to vows of love from him, when her whole heart is in rapture for me?
+Such nonsense!"
+
+This burst of his did not affront her, and did not comfort her.
+
+At last the wind abated; and after a wearisome calm, a light breeze
+came, and the schooner crept homeward.
+
+Phoebe restrained herself for several days; but at last she came back to
+the subject; this time it was in an apologetic tone at starting. "I know
+you think me a foolish woman," she said; "but my poor Reginald could
+never resist a pretty face; and she is so lovely; and you should have
+seen how he turned when she came in to my place. Oh, sir, there has been
+more between them than you know of; and when I think that he will
+have been in England so many months before we get there, oh, doctor,
+sometimes I feel as I should go mad; my head it is like a furnace, and
+see, my brow is all wrinkled again."
+
+Then Staines tried to comfort her; assured her she was tormenting
+herself idly; her husband would perhaps have spent some of the diamond
+money on his amusement; but what if he had? he should deduct it out of
+the big diamond, which was also their joint property, and the loss would
+hardly be felt. "As to my wife, madam, I have but one anxiety; lest
+he should go blurting it out that I am alive, and almost kill her with
+joy."
+
+"He will not do that, sir. He is no fool."
+
+"I am glad of it; for there is nothing else to fear."
+
+"Man, I tell you there is everything to fear. You don't know him as I
+do; nor his power over women."
+
+"Mrs. Falcon, are you bent on affronting me?"
+
+"No, sir; Heaven forbid!"
+
+"Then please to close this subject forever. In three weeks we shall be
+in England."
+
+"Ay; but he has been there six months."
+
+He bowed stiffly to her, went to his cabin, and avoided the poor foolish
+woman as much as he could without seeming too unkind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+
+Mrs. Staines made one or two movements--to stop Lord Tadcaster--with
+her hand, that expressive feature with which, at such times, a sensitive
+woman can do all but speak.
+
+When at last he paused for her reply, she said, "Me marry again! Oh! for
+shame!"
+
+"Mrs. Staines--Rosa--you will marry again, some day."
+
+"Never. Me take another husband, after such a man as I have lost! I
+should be a monster. Oh, Lord Tadcaster, you have been so kind to me; so
+sympathizing. You made me believe you loved my Christopher, too; and now
+you have spoiled all. It is too cruel."
+
+"Oh! Mrs. Staines, do you think me capable of feigning--don't you see my
+love for you has taken you by surprise? But how could I visit you--look
+on you--hear you--mingle my regrets with yours; yours were the deepest,
+of course; but mine were honest."
+
+"I believe it." And she gave him her hand. He held it, and kissed it,
+and cried over it, as the young will, and implored her, on his knees,
+not to condemn herself to life-long widowhood, and him to despair.
+
+Then she cried, too; but she was firm; and by degrees she made him see
+that her heart was inaccessible.
+
+Then at last he submitted with tearful eyes, but a valiant heart.
+
+She offered friendship timidly.
+
+But he was too much of a man to fall into that trap. "No," he said: "I
+could not, I could not. Love or nothing."
+
+"You are right," said she, pityingly. "Forgive me. In my selfishness and
+my usual folly, I did not see this coming on, or I would have spared you
+this mortification."
+
+"Never mind that," gulped the little earl. "I shall always be proud I
+knew you, and proud I loved you, and offered you my hand."
+
+Then the magnanimous little fellow blessed her, and left her, and
+discontinued his visits.
+
+Mr. Lusignan found her crying, and got the truth out of her. He was in
+despair. He remonstrated kindly, but firmly. Truth compels me to say
+that she politely ignored him. He observed that phenomenon, and said,
+"Very well then, I shall telegraph for Uncle Philip."
+
+"Do," said the rebel. "He is always welcome."
+
+Philip, telegraphed, came down that evening; likewise his little black
+bag. He found them in the drawing-room: papa with the Pall Mall Gazette,
+Rosa seated, sewing, at a lamp. She made little Christie's clothes
+herself,--fancy that!
+
+Having ascertained that the little boy was well, Philip, adroitly hiding
+that he had come down torn with anxiety on that head, inquired with a
+show of contemptuous indifference, whose cat was dead.
+
+"Nobody's," said Lusignan crossly. Then he turned and pointed the
+Gazette at his offspring. "Do you see that young lady stitching there so
+demurely?"
+
+Philip carefully wiped and then put on his spectacles.
+
+"I see her," said he. "She does look a little too innocent. None of them
+are really so innocent as all that. Has she been swearing at the nurse,
+and boxing her ears?"
+
+"Worse than that. She has been and refused the Earl of Tadcaster."
+
+"Refused him--what! has that little monkey had the audacity?"
+
+"The condescension, you mean. Yes."
+
+"And she has refused him?"
+
+"And twenty thousand a year."
+
+"What immorality!"
+
+"Worse. What absurdity!"
+
+"How is it to be accounted for? Is it the old story? 'I could never
+love him.' No; that's inadequate; for they all love a title and twenty
+thousand a year."
+
+Rosa sewed on all this time in demure and absolute silence.
+
+"She ignores us," said Philip. "It is intolerable. She does not
+appreciate our politeness in talking at her. Let us arraign her before
+our sacred tribunal, and have her into court. Now, mistress, the Senate
+of Venice is assembled, and you must be pleased to tell us why you
+refused a title and twenty thousand a year, with a small but symmetrical
+earl tacked on."
+
+Rosa laid down her work, and said quietly, "Uncle, almost the last
+words that passed between me and my Christopher, we promised each other
+solemnly never to marry again till death should us part. You know
+how deep my sorrow has been that I can find so few wishes of my lost
+Christopher to obey. Well, to-day I have had an opportunity at last. I
+have obeyed my own lost one; it has cost me a tear or two; but, for all
+that, it has given me one little gleam of happiness. Ah, foolish woman,
+that obeys too late!"
+
+And with this the tears began to run.
+
+All this seemed a little too high-flown to Mr. Lusignan. "There," said
+he, "see on what a straw her mind turns. So, but for that, you would
+have done the right thing, and married the earl?"
+
+"I dare say I should--at the time--to stop his crying."
+
+And with this listless remark she quietly took up her sewing again.
+
+The sagacious Philip looked at her gravely. He thought to himself how
+piteous it was to see so young and lovely a creature, that had given
+up all hope of happiness for herself. These being his real thoughts,
+he expressed himself as follows: "We had better drop this subject, sir.
+This young lady will take us potent, grave, and reverend seignors out of
+our depth, if we don't mind."
+
+But the moment he got her alone he kissed her paternally, and said,
+"Rosa, it is not lost on me, your fidelity to the dead. As years roll
+on, and your deep wound first closes, then skins, then heals--"
+
+"Ah, let me die first--"
+
+"Time and nature will absolve you from that vow; but bless you for
+thinking this can never be. Rosa, your folly of this day has made you my
+heir; so never let money tempt you, for you have enough, and will have
+more than enough when I go."
+
+He was as good as his word; altered his will next day, and made Rosa his
+residuary legatee. When he had done this, foreseeing no fresh occasion
+for his services, he prepared for a long visit to Italy. He was packing
+up his things to go there, when he received a line from Lady Cicely
+Treherne, asking him to call on her professionally. As the lady's
+servant brought it, he sent back a line to say he no longer practised
+medicine, but would call on her as a friend in an hour's time.
+
+He found her reclining, the picture of lassitude. "How good of you to
+come," she drawled.
+
+"What's the matter?" said he brusquely.
+
+"I wish to cawnsult you about myself. I think if anybody can brighten me
+up, it is you. I feel such a languaw--such a want of spirit; and I get
+palaa, and that is not desiwable."
+
+He examined her tongue and the white of her eye, and told her, in his
+blunt way, she ate and drank too much.
+
+"Excuse me, sir," said she stiffly.
+
+"I mean too often. Now, let's see. Cup of tea in bed, of a morning?"
+
+"Yaas."
+
+"Dinner at two?"
+
+"We call it luncheon."
+
+"Are you a ventriloquist?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then it is only your lips call it luncheon. Your poor stomach, could it
+speak, would call it dinner. Afternoon tea?"
+
+"Yaas."
+
+"At seven-thirty another dinner. Tea after that. Your afflicted stomach
+gets no rest. You eat pastry?"
+
+"I confess it."
+
+"And sugar in a dozen forms?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"Well, sugar is poison to your temperament. Now I'll set you up, if you
+can obey. Give up your morning dram."
+
+"What dwam?"
+
+"Tea in bed, before eating. Can't you see that is a dram? Animal food
+twice a day. No wine but a little claret and water; no pastry, no
+sweets, and play battledore with one of your male subjects."
+
+"Battledaw! won't a lady do for that?"
+
+"No: you would get talking, and not play ad sudorem."
+
+"Ad sudawem! what is that?"
+
+"In earnest."
+
+"And will sudawem and the west put me in better spiwits, and give me a
+tinge?"
+
+"It will incarnadine the lily, and make you the happiest young lady in
+England, as you are the best."
+
+"I should like to be much happier than I am good, if we could manage it
+among us."
+
+"We will manage it AMONG us; for if the diet allowed should not make you
+boisterously gay, I have a remedy behind, suited to your temperament. I
+am old-fashioned, and believe in the temperaments."
+
+"And what is that wemedy?"
+
+"Try diet, and hard exercise, first."
+
+"Oh, yes; but let me know that wemedy."
+
+"I warn you it is what we call in medicine an heroic one."
+
+"Never mind. I am despewate."
+
+"Well, then, the heroic remedy--to be used only as a desperate resort,
+mind--you must marry an Irishman."
+
+This took the lady's breath away.
+
+"Mawwy a nice man?"
+
+"A nice man; no. That means a fool. Marry scientifically--a precaution
+eternally neglected. Marry a Hibernian gentleman, a being as mercurial
+as you are lymphatic."
+
+"Mercurial!--lymphatic!"--
+
+"Oh, hard words break no bones, ma'am."
+
+"No, sir. And it is very curious. No, I won't tell you. Yes, I will. Hem
+I--I think I have noticed one."
+
+"One what?"
+
+"One Iwishman--dangling after me."
+
+"Then your ladyship has only to tighten the cord--and HE'S done for."
+
+Having administered this prescription, our laughing philosopher went
+off to Italy, and there fell in with some countrymen to his mind, so he
+accompanied them to Egypt and Palestine.
+
+His absence, and Lord Tadcaster's, made Rosa Staines's life extremely
+monotonous. Day followed day, and week followed week, each so unvarying,
+that, on a retrospect, three months seemed like one day.
+
+And I think at last youth and nature began to rebel, and secretly to
+crave some little change or incident to ruffle the stagnant pool. Yet
+she would not go into society, and would only receive two or three dull
+people at the villa; so she made the very monotony which was beginning
+to tire her, and nursed a sacred grief she had no need to nurse, it was
+so truly genuine.
+
+She was in this forlorn condition, when, one morning, a carriage drove
+to the door, and a card was brought up to her--"Mr. Reginald Falcon."
+
+Falcon's history, between this and our last advices, is soon disposed
+of.
+
+When, after a little struggle with his better angel, he rode past his
+wife's gate, he intended, at first, only to go to Cape Town, sell the
+diamonds, have a lark, and bring home the balance: but, as he rode
+south, his views expanded. He could have ten times the fun in London,
+and cheaper; since he could sell the diamonds for more money, and
+also conceal the true price. This was the Bohemian's whole mind in the
+business. He had no designs whatever on Mrs. Staines, nor did he intend
+to steal the diamonds, but to embezzle a portion of the purchase-money,
+and enjoy the pleasures and vices of the capital for a few months;
+then back to his milch cow, Phoebe, and lead a quiet life till the
+next uncontrollable fit should come upon him along with the means of
+satisfying it.
+
+On the way, he read Staines's letter to Mrs. Falcon, very carefully. He
+never broke the seal of the letter to Mrs. Staines. That was to be given
+her when he had broken the good news to her; and this he determined to
+do with such skill, as should make Dr. Staines very unwilling to look
+suspiciously or ill-naturedly into money accounts.
+
+He reached London; and being a thorough egotist, attended first to his
+own interests; he never went near Mrs. Staines until he had visited
+every diamond merchant and dealer in the metropolis; he showed the small
+stones to them all but he showed no more than one large stone to each.
+
+At last he got an offer of twelve hundred pounds for the small stones,
+and the same for the large yellow stone, and nine hundred pounds for the
+second largest stone. He took this nine hundred pounds, and instantly
+wrote to Phoebe, telling her he had a sudden inspiration to bring the
+diamonds to England, which he could not regret, since he had never done
+a wiser thing. He had sold a single stone for eight hundred pounds, and
+had sent the doctor's four hundred pounds to her account in Cape Town;
+and as each sale was effected, the half would be so remitted. She would
+see by that, he was wiser than in former days. He should only stay so
+long as might be necessary to sell them all equally well. His own share
+he would apply to paying off mortgages on the family estate, of which
+he hoped some day to see her the mistress, or he would send it direct to
+her, whichever she might prefer.
+
+Now the main object of this artful letter was to keep Phoebe quiet, and
+not have her coming after him, of which he felt she was very capable.
+
+The money got safe to Cape Town, but the letter to Phoebe miscarried.
+How this happened was never positively known; but the servant of the
+lodging-house was afterwards detected cutting stamps off a letter; so
+perhaps she had played that game on this occasion.
+
+By this means, matters took a curious turn. Falcon, intending to lull
+his wife into a false security, lulled himself into that state instead.
+
+When he had taken care of himself, and got five hundred pounds to play
+the fool with, then he condescended to remember his errand of mercy; and
+he came down to Gravesend, to see Mrs. Staines.
+
+On the road, he gave his mind seriously to the delicate and dangerous
+task. It did not, however, disquiet him as it would you, sir, or you,
+madam. He had a great advantage over you. He was a liar--a smooth,
+ready, accomplished liar--and he knew it.
+
+This was the outline he had traced in his mind: he should appear very
+subdued and sad; should wear an air of condolence. But, after a while,
+should say, "And yet men have been lost like that, and escaped. A man
+was picked up on a raft in those very latitudes, and brought into Cape
+Town. A friend of mine saw him, months after, at the hospital. His
+memory was shaken--could not tell his name; but in other respects he was
+all right again."
+
+If Mrs. Staines took fire at this, he would say his friend knew all the
+particulars, and he would ask him, and so leave that to rankle till next
+visit. And having planted his germ of hope, he would grow it, and water
+it, by visits and correspondence, till he could throw off the mask, and
+say he was convinced Staines was alive: and from that, by other degrees,
+till he could say, on his wife's authority, that the man picked up at
+sea, and cured at her house, was the very physician who had saved her
+brother's life: and so on to the overwhelming proof he carried in the
+ruby ring and the letter.
+
+I am afraid the cunning and dexterity, the subtlety and tact required,
+interested him more in the commission than did the benevolence. He
+called, sent up his card, and composed his countenance for his part,
+like an actor at the Wing.
+
+"Not at home."
+
+He stared with amazement.
+
+The history of a "Not at home" is not, in general, worth recording: but
+this is an exception.
+
+On receiving Falcon's card, Mrs. Staines gave a little start, and
+colored faintly. She instantly resolved not to see him. What! the man
+she had flirted with, almost jilted, and refused to marry--he dared to
+be alive when her Christopher was dead, and had come there to show her
+HE was alive!
+
+She said "Not at home" with a tone of unusual sharpness and decision,
+which left the servant in no doubt he must be equally decided at the
+hall door.
+
+Falcon received the sudden freezer with amazement. "Nonsense," said he.
+"Not at home at this time of the morning--to an old friend!"
+
+"Not at home," said the man doggedly.
+
+"Oh, very well," said Falcon with a bitter sneer, and returned to
+London.
+
+He felt sure she was at home; and being a tremendous egotist, he said,
+"Oh! all right. If she would rather not know her husband is alive, it
+is all one to me;" and he actually took no more notice of her for a full
+week, and never thought of her, except to chuckle over the penalty she
+was paying for daring to affront his vanity.
+
+However, Sunday came; he saw a dull day before him, and so he relented,
+and thought he would give her another trial.
+
+He went down to Gravesend by boat, and strolled towards the villa.
+
+When he was about a hundred yards from the villa, a lady, all in black,
+came out with a nurse and child.
+
+Falcon knew her figure all that way off, and it gave him a curious
+thrill that surprised him. He followed her, and was not very far behind
+her when she reached the church. She turned at the porch, kissed the
+child earnestly, and gave the nurse some directions; then entered the
+church.
+
+"Come," said Falcon, "I'll have a look at her, any way."
+
+He went into the church, and walked up a side aisle to a pillar, from
+which he thought he might be able to see the whole congregation; and,
+sure enough, there she sat, a few yards from him. She was lovelier than
+ever. Mind had grown on her face with trouble. An angelic expression
+illuminated her beauty; he gazed on her, fascinated. He drank and drank
+her beauty two mortal hours, and when the church broke up, and she went
+home, he was half afraid to follow her, for he felt how hard it would
+be to say anything to her but that the old love had returned on him with
+double force.
+
+However, having watched her home, he walked slowly to and fro composing
+himself for the interview.
+
+He now determined to make the process of informing her a very long one:
+he would spin it out, and so secure many a sweet interview with her:
+and, who knows? he might fascinate her as she had him, and ripen
+gratitude into love, as he understood that word.
+
+He called, he sent in his card. The man went in, and came back with a
+sonorous "Not at home."
+
+"Not at home? nonsense. Why, she is just come in from church."
+
+"Not at home," said the man, evidently strong in his instructions.
+
+Falcon turned white with rage at this second affront. "All the worse for
+her," said he, and turned on his heel.
+
+He went home, raging with disappointment and wounded vanity, and--since
+such love as his is seldom very far from hate--he swore she should never
+know from him that her husband was alive. He even moralized. "This comes
+of being so unselfish," said he. "I'll give that game up forever."
+
+By and by, a mere negative revenge was not enough for him, and he set
+his wits to work to make her smart.
+
+He wrote to her from his lodgings:--
+
+
+DEAR MADAM,--What a pity you are never at home to me. I had something to
+say about your husband, that I thought might interest you.
+
+Yours truly,
+
+R. FALCON.
+
+
+Imagine the effect of this abominable note. It was like a rock flung
+into a placid pool. It set Rosa trembling all over. What could he mean?
+
+She ran with it to her father, and asked him what Mr. Falcon could mean.
+
+"I have no idea," said he. "You had better ask him, not me."
+
+"I am afraid it is only to get to see me. You know he admired me once.
+Ah, how suspicious I am getting."
+
+Rosa wrote to Falcon:--
+
+
+DEAR SIR,--Since my bereavement I see scarcely anybody. My servant did
+not know you; so I hope you will excuse me. If it is too much trouble to
+call again, would you kindly explain your note to me?
+
+Yours respectfully,
+
+ROSA STAINES.
+
+
+Falcon chuckled bitterly over this. "No, my lady," said he. "I'll serve
+you out. You shall run after me like a little dog. I have got the bone
+that will draw you."
+
+He wrote back coldly to say that the matter he had wished to communicate
+was too delicate and important to put on paper; that he would try and
+get down to Gravesend again some day or other, but was much occupied,
+and had already put himself to inconvenience. He added, in a postscript,
+that he was always at home from four to five.
+
+Next day he got hold of the servant, and gave her minute instructions,
+and a guinea.
+
+Then the wretch got some tools and bored a hole in the partition wall of
+his sitting-room. The paper had large flowers. He was artist enough
+to conceal the trick with water-colors. In his bed-room the hole came
+behind the curtains.
+
+That very afternoon, as he had foreseen, Mrs. Staines called on him. The
+maid, duly instructed, said Mr. Falcon was out, but would soon return,
+and could she wait his return? The maid being so very civil, Mrs.
+Staines said she would wait a little while, and was immediately ushered
+into Falcon's sitting-room. There she sat down; but was evidently ill at
+ease, restless, flushed. She could not sit quiet, and at last began to
+walk up and down the room, almost wildly. Her beautiful eyes glittered,
+and the whole woman seemed on fire. The caitiff, who was watching her,
+saw and gloated on all this, and enjoyed to the full her beauty and
+agitation, and his revenge for her "Not at homes."
+
+But after a long time, there was a reaction: she sat down and uttered
+some plaintive sounds inarticulate, or nearly; and at last she began to
+cry.
+
+Then it cost Falcon an effort not to come in and comfort her; but he
+controlled himself and kept quiet.
+
+She rang the bell. She asked for writing paper, and she wrote her unseen
+tormentor a humble note, begging him, for old acquaintance, to call on
+her, and tell her what his mysterious words meant that had filled her
+with agitation.
+
+This done, she went away, with a deep sigh, and Falcon emerged, and
+pounced upon her letter.
+
+He kissed it; he read it a dozen times: he sat down where she had sat,
+and his base passion overpowered him. Her beauty, her agitation, her
+fear, her tears, all combined to madden him, and do the devil's work
+in his false, selfish heart, so open to violent passions, so dead to
+conscience.
+
+For once in his life he was violently agitated, and torn by conflicting
+feelings: he walked about the room more wildly than his victim had; and
+if it be true that, in certain great temptations, good and bad angels
+fight for a man, here you might have seen as fierce a battle of that
+kind as ever was.
+
+At last he rushed out into the air, and did not return till ten o'clock
+at night. He came back pale and haggard, and with a look of crime upon
+his face.
+
+True Bohemian as he was, he sent for a pint of brandy.
+
+So then the die was cast, and something was to be done that called for
+brandy.
+
+He bolted himself in, and drank a wine-glass of it neat; then another;
+then another.
+
+Now his pale cheek is flushed, and his eye glitters. Drink forever!
+great ruin of English souls as well as bodies.
+
+He put the poker in the fire, and heated it red hot.
+
+He brought Staines's letter, and softened the sealing-wax with the hot
+poker; then with his pen-knife made a neat incision in the wax, and
+opened the letter. He took out the ring, and put it carefully away. Then
+he lighted a cigar, and read the letter, and studied it. Many a man,
+capable of murder in heat of passion, could not have resisted the pathos
+of this letter. Many a Newgate thief, after reading it, would have felt
+such pity for the loving husband who had suffered to the verge of death,
+and then to the brink of madness, and for the poor bereaved wife, that
+he would have taken the letter down to Gravesend that very night, though
+he picked two fresh pockets to defray the expenses of the road.
+
+But this was an egotist. Good nature had curbed his egotism a little
+while; but now vanity and passion had swept away all unselfish feelings,
+and the pure egotist alone remained.
+
+Now, the pure egotist has been defined as a man who will burn down his
+NEIGHBOR'S house to cook HIMSELF an egg. Murder is but egotism carried
+out to its natural climax. What is murder to a pure egotist, especially
+a brandied one?
+
+I knew an egotist who met a female acquaintance in Newhaven village. She
+had a one-pound note, and offered to treat him. She changed this note to
+treat him. Fish she gave him, and much whiskey. Cost her four shillings.
+He ate and drank with her, at her expense; and his aorta, or principal
+blood-vessel, being warmed with her whiskey, he murdered her for the
+change, the odd sixteen shillings.
+
+I had the pleasure of seeing that egotist hung, with these eyes. It was
+a slice of luck that, I grieve to say, has not occurred again to me.
+
+So much for a whiskied egotist.
+
+His less truculent but equally remorseless brother in villany, the
+brandied egotist, Falcon, could read that poor husband's letter without
+blenching; the love and the anticipations of rapture, these made him
+writhe a little with jealousy, but they roused not a grain of pity. He
+was a true egotist, blind, remorseless.
+
+In this, his true character, he studied the letter profoundly, and
+mastered all the facts, and digested them well.
+
+All manner of diabolical artifices presented themselves to his brain,
+barren of true intellect, yet fertile in fraud; in that, and all low
+cunning and subtlety, far more than a match for Solomon or Bacon.
+
+His sinister studies were pursued far into the night. Then he went to
+bed, and his unbounded egotism gave him the sleep a grander criminal
+would have courted in vain on the verge of a monstrous and deliberate
+crime.
+
+Next day he went to a fashionable tailor, and ordered a complete suit of
+black. This was made in forty-eight hours; the interval was spent mainly
+in concocting lies to be incorporated with the number of minute facts he
+had gained from Staines's letter, and in making close imitations of his
+handwriting.
+
+Thus armed, and crammed with more lies than the "Menteur" of Corneille,
+but not such innocent ones, he went down to Gravesend, all in deep
+mourning, with crape round his hat.
+
+He presented himself at the villa.
+
+The servant was all obsequiousness. Yes, Mrs. Staines received few
+visitors; but she was at home to HIM. He even began to falter excuses.
+"Nonsense," said Falcon, and slipped a sovereign into his hand; "you are
+a good servant, and obey orders."
+
+The servant's respect doubled, and he ushered the visitor into the
+drawing-room, as one whose name was a passport. "Mr. Reginald Falcon,
+madam."
+
+Mrs. Staines was alone. She rose to meet him. Her color came and went,
+her full eye fell on him, and took in all at a glance--that he was all
+in black, and that he had a beard, and looked pale, and ill at ease.
+
+Little dreaming that this was the anxiety of a felon about to take the
+actual plunge into a novel crime, she was rather prepossessed by it. The
+beard gave him dignity, and hid his mean, cruel mouth. His black suit
+seemed to say he, too, had lost some one dear to him; and that was a
+ground of sympathy.
+
+She received him kindly, and thanked him for taking the trouble to come
+again. She begged him to be seated; and then, womanlike, she waited for
+him to explain.
+
+But he was in no hurry, and waited for her. He knew she would speak if
+he was silent.
+
+She could not keep him waiting long. "Mr. Falcon," said she, hesitating
+a little, "you have something to say to me about him I have lost."
+
+"Yes," said he softly. "I have something I could say, and I think I
+ought to say it; but I am afraid: because I don't know what will be the
+result. I fear to make you more unhappy."
+
+"Me! more unhappy? Me, whose dear husband lies at the bottom of the
+ocean. Other poor wounded creatures have the wretched comfort of knowing
+where he lies--of carrying flowers to his tomb. But I--oh, Mr. Falcon, I
+am bereaved of all: even his poor remains lost,--lost"--she could say no
+more.
+
+Then that craven heart began to quake at what he was doing; quaked, yet
+persevered; but his own voice quivered, and his cheek grew ashy pale.
+No wonder. If ever God condescended to pour lightning on a skunk, surely
+now was the time.
+
+Shaking and sweating with terror at his own act, he stammered out,
+"Would it be the least comfort to you to know that you are not denied
+that poor consolation? Suppose he died not so miserably as you think?
+Suppose he was picked up at sea, in a dying state?"
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"Suppose he lingered, nursed by kind and sympathizing hands, that almost
+saved him? Suppose he was laid in hallowed ground, and a great many
+tears shed over his grave?"
+
+"Ah, that would indeed be a comfort. And it was to say this you came. I
+thank you. I bless you. But, my good, kind friend, you are deceived. You
+don't know my husband. You never saw him. He perished at sea."
+
+"Will it be kind or unkind, to tell you why I think he died as I tell
+you, and not at sea?"
+
+"Kind, but impossible. You deceive yourself. Ah, I see. You found some
+poor sufferer, and were good to him; but it was not my poor Christie.
+Oh, if it were, I should worship you. But I thank you as it is. It was
+very kind to want to give me this little, little crumb of comfort; for
+I know I did not behave well to you, sir: but you are generous, and have
+forgiven a poor heart-broken creature, that never was very wise."
+
+He gave her time to cry, and then said to her, "I only wanted to be sure
+it WOULD be any comfort to you. Mrs. Staines, it is true I did not
+even know his name; nor yours. When I met, in this very room, the great
+disappointment that has saddened my own life, I left England directly. I
+collected funds, went to Natal, and turned land-owner and farmer. I have
+made a large fortune, but I need not tell you I am not happy. Well,
+I had a yacht, and sailing from Cape Town to Algoa Bay, I picked up
+a raft, with a dying man on it. He was perishing from exhaustion and
+exposure. I got a little brandy between his lips, and kept him alive. I
+landed with him at once: and we nursed him on shore. We had to be very
+cautious. He improved. We got him to take egg-flip. He smiled on us at
+first, and then he thanked us. I nursed him day and night for ten days.
+He got much stronger. He spoke to me, thanked me again and again, and
+told me his name was Christopher Staines. He told me that he should
+never get well. I implored him to have courage. He said he did not want
+for courage; but nature had been tried too hard. We got so fond of each
+other. Oh!"--and the caitiff pretended to break down; and his feigned
+grief mingled with Rosa's despairing sobs.
+
+He made an apparent effort, and said, "He spoke to me of his wife, his
+darling Rosa. The name made me start, but I could not know it was
+you. At last he was strong enough to write a few lines, and he made me
+promise to take them to his wife."
+
+"Ah!" said Rosa. "Show them me."
+
+"I will."
+
+"This moment." And her hands began to work convulsively.
+
+"I cannot," said Falcon. "I have not brought them with me."
+
+Rosa cast a keen eye of suspicion and terror on him. His not bringing
+the letter seemed monstrous; and so indeed it was. The fact is, the
+letter was not written.
+
+Falcon affected not to notice her keen look. He flowed on, "The address
+he put on that letter astonished me. 'Kent Villa.' Of course I knew Kent
+Villa: and he called you 'Rosa.'"
+
+"How could you come to me without that letter?" cried Rosa, wringing her
+hands. "How am I to know? It is all so strange, so incredible."
+
+"Don't you believe me?" said Falcon sadly. "Why should I deceive you?
+The first time I came down to tell you all this, I did not KNOW who Mrs.
+Staines was. I suspected; but no more. The second time I saw you in the
+church, and then I knew; and followed you to try and tell you all this;
+and you were not at home to me."
+
+"Forgive me," said Rosa carelessly: then earnestly, "The letter! when
+can I see it?"
+
+"I will send, or bring it."
+
+"Bring it! I am in agony till I see it. Oh, my darling! my darling!
+It can't be true. It was not my Christie. He lies in the depths of the
+ocean. Lord Tadcaster was in the ship, and he says so; everybody says
+so."
+
+"And I say he sleeps in hallowed ground, and these hands laid him
+there."
+
+Rosa lifted her hands to heaven, and cried piteously, "I don't know what
+to think. You would not willingly deceive me. But how can this be?
+Oh, Uncle Philip, why are you away from me? Sir, you say he gave you a
+letter?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh, why, why did you not bring it?"
+
+"Because he told me the contents; and I thought he prized my poor
+efforts too highly. It did not occur to me you would doubt my word."
+
+"Oh, no: no more I do: but I fear it was not my Christie."
+
+"I'll go for the letter at once, Mrs. Staines."
+
+"Oh, thank you! Bless you! Yes, this minute!"
+
+The artful rogue did not go; never intended.
+
+He rose TO GO; but had a sudden inspiration; very sudden, of course.
+"Had he nothing about him you could recognize him by?"
+
+"Yes, he had a ring I gave him."
+
+Falcon took a black-edged envelope out of his pocket.
+
+"A ruby ring," said she, beginning to tremble at his quiet action.
+
+"Is that it?" and he handed her a ruby ring.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+
+Mrs. Staines uttered a sharp cry and seized the ring. Her eyes dilated
+over it, and she began to tremble in every limb; and at last she sank
+slowly back, and her head fell on one side like a broken lily. The
+sudden sight of the ring overpowered her almost to fainting.
+
+Falcon rose to call for assistance; but she made him a feeble motion not
+to do so.
+
+She got the better of her faintness, and then she fell to kissing the
+ring, in an agony of love, and wept over it, and still held it, and
+gazed at it through her blinding tears.
+
+Falcon eyed her uneasily.
+
+But he soon found he had nothing to fear. For a long time she seemed
+scarcely aware of his presence; and when she noticed him, it was to
+thank him, almost passionately.
+
+"It was my Christie you were so good to: may Heaven bless you for it:
+and you will bring me his letter, will you not?"
+
+"Of course I will."
+
+"Oh, do not go yet. It is all so strange: so sad. I seem to have lost
+my poor Christie again, since he did not die at sea. But no, I am
+ungrateful to God, and ungrateful to the kind friend that nursed him to
+the last. Ah, I envy you that. Tell me all. Never mind my crying. I
+have seen the time I could not cry. It was worse then than now. I shall
+always cry when I speak of him, ay, to my dying day. Tell me, tell me
+all."
+
+Her passion frightened the egotist, but did not turn him. He had gone
+too far. He told her that, after raising all their hopes, Dr. Staines
+had suddenly changed for the worse, and sunk rapidly; that his last
+words had been about her, and he had said, "My poor Rosa, who will
+protect her?" That, to comfort him, he had said he would protect her.
+Then the dying man had managed to write a line or two, and to address
+it. Almost his last words had been, "Be a father to my child."
+
+"That is strange."
+
+"You have no child? Then it must have been you he meant. He spoke of you
+as a child more than once."
+
+"Mr. Falcon, I have a child; but born since I lost my poor child's
+father."
+
+"Then I think he knew it. They say that dying men can see all over
+the world: and I remember, when he said it, his eyes seemed fixed very
+strangely, as if on something distant. Oh, how wonderful all this is.
+May I see his child, to whom I promised"--
+
+The artist in lies left his sentence half completed.
+
+Rosa rang, and sent for her little boy.
+
+Mr. Falcon admired his beauty, and said quietly, "I shall keep my vow."
+
+He then left her, with a promise to come back early next morning with
+the letter.
+
+She let him go only on those conditions.
+
+As soon as her father came in, she ran to him with this strange story.
+
+"I don't believe it," said he. "It is impossible."
+
+She showed him the proof, the ruby ring.
+
+Then he became very uneasy, and begged her not to tell a soul. He did
+not tell her the reason, but he feared the insurance office would hear
+of it, and require proofs of Christopher's decease, whereas they had
+accepted it without a murmur, on the evidence of Captain Hamilton and
+the Amphitrite's log-book.
+
+As for Falcon, he went carefully through Staines's two letters, and
+wherever he found a word that suited his purpose, he traced it by the
+usual process, and so, in the course of a few hours, he concocted a
+short letter, all the words in which, except three, were facsimiles,
+only here and there a little shaky; the three odd words he had
+to imitate by observation of the letters. The signature he got to
+perfection by tracing.
+
+He inserted this letter in the original envelope, and sealed it very
+carefully, so as to hide that the seal had been tampered with.
+
+Thus armed, he went down to Gravesend. There he hired a horse and rode
+to Kent Villa.
+
+Why he hired a horse, he knew how hard it is to forge handwriting, and
+he chose to have the means of escape at hand.
+
+He came into the drawing-room, ghastly pale, and almost immediately gave
+her the letter; then turned his back, feigning delicacy. In reality he
+was quaking with fear lest she should suspect the handwriting. But the
+envelope was addressed by Staines, and paved the way for the letter;
+she was unsuspicious and good, and her heart cried out for her husband's
+last written words: at such a moment, what chance had judgment and
+suspicion in an innocent and loving soul?
+
+Her eloquent sighs and sobs soon told the caitiff he had nothing to
+fear.
+
+The letter ran thus:--
+
+
+MY OWN ROSA,--All that a brother could do for a beloved brother, Falcon
+has done. He nursed me night and day. But it is vain. I shall never see
+you again in this world. I send you a protector, and a father to your
+child. Value him. He has promised to be your stay on earth, and my
+spirit shall watch over you.--To my last breath, your loving husband,
+
+CHRISTOPHER STAINES.
+
+
+Falcon rose, and began to steal on tiptoe out of the room.
+
+Rosa stopped him. "You need not go," said she. "You are our friend. By
+and by I hope I shall find words to thank you."
+
+"Pray let me retire a moment," said the hypocrite. "A husband's last
+words: too sacred--a stranger:" and he went out into the garden. There
+he found the nursemaid Emily, and the little boy.
+
+He stopped the child, and made love to the nursemaid; showed her his
+diamonds--he carried them all about him--told her he had thirty thousand
+acres in Cape Colony, and diamonds on them; and was going to buy thirty
+thousand more of the government. "Here, take one," said he. "Oh, you
+needn't be shy. They are common enough on my estates. I'll tell you
+what, though, you could not buy that for less than thirty pounds at any
+shop in London. Could she, my little duck? Never mind, it is no brighter
+than her eyes. Now do you know what she will do with that, Master
+Christie? She will give it to some duffer to put in a pin."
+
+"She won't do nothing of the kind," said Emily, flushing all over.
+"She is not such a fool." She then volunteered to tell him she had no
+sweetheart, and did not trouble her head about young men at all. He
+interpreted this to mean she was looking out for one. So do I.
+
+"No sweetheart!" said he; "and the prettiest girl I have seen since I
+landed: then I put in for the situation."
+
+Here, seeing the footman coming, he bestowed a most paternal kiss on
+little Christie, and saying, "Not a word to John, or no more diamonds
+from me;" he moved carefully away, leaving the girl all in a flutter
+with extravagant hopes.
+
+The next moment this wolf in the sheep-fold entered the drawing-room.
+Mrs. Staines was not there. He waited, and waited, and began to get
+rather uneasy, as men will who walk among pitfalls.
+
+Presently the footman came to say that Mrs. Staines was with her father,
+in his study, but she would come to him in five minutes.
+
+This increased his anxiety. What! She was taking advice of an older
+head. He began to be very seriously alarmed, and, indeed, had pretty
+well made up his mind to go down and gallop off, when the door opened,
+and Rosa came hastily in. Her eyes were very red with weeping. She came
+to him with both hands extended to him; he gave her his, timidly.
+She pressed them with such earnestness and power as he could not have
+suspected; and thanked him, and blessed him, with such a torrent of
+eloquence, that he hung his head with shame; and, being unable to face
+it out, villain as he was, yet still artful to the core, he pretended to
+burst out crying, and ran out of the room, and rode away.
+
+He waited two days, and then called again. Rosa reproached him sweetly
+for going before she had half thanked him.
+
+"All the better," said he. "I have been thanked a great deal too much
+already. Who would not do his best for a dying countryman, and fight
+night and day to save him for his wife and child at home? If I had
+succeeded, then I would be greedy of praise: but now it makes me blush;
+it makes me very sad."
+
+"You did your best," said Rosa tearfully.
+
+"Ah! that I did. Indeed, I was ill for weeks after, myself, through the
+strain upon my mind, and the disappointment, and going so many nights
+without sleep. But don't let us talk of that."
+
+"Do you know what my darling says to me in my letter?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Would you like to see it?"
+
+"Indeed I should; but I have no right."
+
+"Every right. It is the only mark of esteem, worth anything, I can show
+you."
+
+She handed him the letter, and buried her own face in her hands.
+
+He read it, and acted the deepest emotion.
+
+He handed it back, without a word.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+
+From this time Falcon was always welcome at Kent Villa. He fascinated
+everybody in the house. He renewed his acquaintance with Mr. Lusignan,
+and got asked to stay a week in the house. He showed Rosa and her
+father the diamonds, and, the truth must be owned, they made Rosa's eyes
+sparkle for the first time this eighteen months. He insinuated rather
+than declared his enormous wealth.
+
+In reply to the old man's eager questions, as the large diamonds lay
+glittering on the table, and pointed every word, he said that a few
+of his Hottentots had found these for him; he had made them dig on a
+diamondiferous part of his estate, just by way of testing the matter;
+and this was the result; this, and a much larger stone, for which he had
+received eight thousand pounds from Posno.
+
+"If I was a young man," said Lusignan, "I would go out directly, and dig
+on your estate."
+
+"I would not let you do anything so paltry," said "le Menteur." "Why, my
+dear sir, there are no fortunes to be made by grubbing for diamonds; the
+fortunes are made out of the diamonds, but not in that way. Now, I
+have thirty thousand acres, and am just concluding a bargain for thirty
+thousand more, on which I happen to know there are diamonds in a sly
+corner. Well, of my thirty thousand tried acres, a hundred only are
+diamondiferous. But I have four thousand thirty-foot claims leased at
+ten shillings per month. Count that up."
+
+"Why, it is twenty-four thousand pounds a year."
+
+"Excuse me: you must deduct a thousand a year for the expenses of
+collection. But this is only one phase of the business. I have a large
+inn upon each of the three great routes from the diamonds to the coast;
+and these inns are supplied with the produce of my own farms. Mark the
+effect of the diamonds on property. My sixty thousand acres, which are
+not diamondiferous, will very soon be worth as much as sixty thousand
+English acres, say two pounds the acre per annum. That is under the
+mark, because in Africa the land is not burdened with poor-rates,
+tithes, and all the other iniquities that crush the English land-owner,
+as I know to my cost. But that is not all, sir. Would you believe it?
+even after the diamonds were declared, the people out there had so
+little foresight that they allowed me to buy land all round Port
+Elizabeth, Natal, and Cape Town, the three ports through which the world
+get at the diamonds, and the diamonds get at the world. I have got a
+girdle of land round those three outlets, bought by the acre; in two
+years I shall sell it by the yard. Believe me, sir, English fortunes,
+even the largest, are mere child's play, compared with the colossal
+wealth a man can accumulate, if he looks beyond these great discoveries
+to their consequences, and lets others grub for him. But what is the use
+of it all to me?" said this Bohemian, with a sigh. "I have no taste for
+luxuries; no love of display. I have not even charity to dispense on a
+large scale; for there are no deserving poor out there; and the poverty
+that springs from vice, that I never will encourage."
+
+John heard nearly all this, and took it into the kitchen; and
+henceforth Adoration was the only word for this prince of men, this rare
+combination of the Adonis and the millionnaire.
+
+He seldom held such discourses before Rosa; but talked her father into
+an impression of his boundless wealth, and half reconciled him to Rosa's
+refusal of Lord Tadcaster, since here was an old suitor, who, doubtless,
+with a little encouragement, would soon come on again.
+
+Under this impression, Mr. Lusignan gave Falcon more than a little
+encouragement, and, as Rosa did not resist, he became a constant visitor
+at the villa, and was always there from Saturday to Monday.
+
+He exerted all his art of pleasing, and he succeeded. He was welcome to
+Rosa, and she made no secret of it.
+
+Emily threw herself in his way, and had many a sly talk with him, while
+he was pretending to be engaged with young Christie. He flattered her,
+and made her sweet on him, but was too much in love with Rosa, after
+his fashion, to flirt seriously with her. He thought he might want her
+services: so he worked upon her after this fashion; asked her if she
+would like to keep an inn.
+
+"Wouldn't I just?" said she frankly.
+
+Then he told her that, if all went to his wish in England, she should be
+landlady of one of his inns in the Cape Colony. "And you will get a good
+husband out there directly," said he. "Beauty is a very uncommon thing
+in those parts. But I shall ask you to marry somebody who can help you
+in the business--or not to marry at all."
+
+"I wish I had the inn," said Emily. "Husbands are soon got when a girl
+hasn't her face only to look to."
+
+"Well, I promise you the inn," said he, "and a good outfit of clothes,
+and money in both pockets, if you will do me a good turn here in
+England."
+
+"That I would, sir. But, laws, what can a poor girl like me do for a
+rich gentleman like you?"
+
+"Can you keep a secret, Emily?"
+
+"Nobody better. You try me, sir."
+
+He looked at her well; saw she was one of those who could keep a secret,
+if she chose, and he resolved to risk it.
+
+"Emily, my girl," said he sadly, "I am an unhappy man."
+
+"You, sir! Why, you didn't ought to be."
+
+"I am then. I am in love; and cannot win her."
+
+Then he told the girl a pretty tender tale, that he had loved Mrs.
+Staines when she was Miss Lusignan, had thought himself beloved in
+turn, but was rejected; and now, though she was a widow, he had not the
+courage to court her, her heart was in the grave. He spoke in such a
+broken voice that the girl's good-nature fought against her little pique
+at finding how little he was smitten with HER, and Falcon soon found
+means to array her cupidity on the side of her good-nature. He gave her
+a five-pound note to buy gloves, and promised her a fortune, and she
+undertook to be secret as the grave, and say certain things adroitly to
+Mrs. Staines.
+
+Accordingly, this young woman omitted no opportunity of dropping a word
+in favor of Falcon. For one thing, she said to Mrs. Staines, "Mr. Falcon
+must be very fond of children, ma'am. Why, he worships Master Christie."
+
+"Indeed! I have not observed that."
+
+"Why, no, ma'am. He is rather shy over it; but when he sees us alone, he
+is sure to come to us, and say, 'Let me look at my child, nurse;' and
+he do seem fit to eat him. Onst he says to me, 'This boy is my heir,
+nurse.' What did he mean by that, ma'am?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Is he any kin to you, ma'am?"
+
+"None whatever. You must have misunderstood him. You should not repeat
+all that people say."
+
+"No, ma'am; only I did think it so odd. Poor gentleman, I don't think he
+is happy, for all his money."
+
+"He is too good to be unhappy all his life."
+
+"So I think, ma'am."
+
+These conversations were always short, for Rosa, though she was too kind
+and gentle to snub the girl, was also too delicate to give the least
+encouragement to her gossip.
+
+But Rosa's was a mind that could be worked upon, and these short but
+repeated eulogies were not altogether without effect.
+
+At last the insidious Falcon, by not making his approaches in a way to
+alarm her, acquired her friendship as well as her gratitude; and, in
+short, she got used to him and liked him. Not being bound by any limit
+of fact whatever, he entertained her, and took her out of herself
+a little by extemporaneous pictures; he told her all his thrilling
+adventures by flood and field, not one of which had ever occurred, yet
+he made them all sound like truth; he invented strange characters, and
+set them talking; he went after great whales, and harpooned one, which
+slapped his boat into fragments with one stroke of its tail; then died,
+and he hung on by the harpoon protruding from the carcass till a
+ship came and picked him up. He shot a lion that was carrying off
+his favorite Hottentot. He encountered another, wounded him with both
+barrels, was seized, and dragged along the ground, and gave himself up
+for lost, but kept firing his revolver down the monster's throat till at
+last he sickened him, and so escaped out of death's maw; he did NOT say
+how he had fired in the air, and ridden fourteen miles on end, at the
+bare sight of a lion's cub; but, to compensate that one reserve, plunged
+into a raging torrent and saved a drowning woman by her long hair, which
+he caught in his teeth; he rode a race on an ostrich against a friend on
+a zebra, which went faster, but threw his rider, and screamed with rage
+at not being able to eat him; he, Falcon, having declined to run unless
+his friend's zebra was muzzled. He fed the hungry, clothed the naked,
+and shot a wild elephant in the eye; and all this he enlivened with
+pictorial descriptions of no mean beauty, and as like South Africa as if
+it had been feu George Robins advertising that continent for sale.
+
+In short, never was there a more voluble and interesting liar by word of
+mouth, and never was there a more agreeable creature interposed between
+a bereaved widow and her daily grief and regrets. He diverted her mind
+from herself, and did her good.
+
+At last, such was the charm of infinite lying, she missed him on the
+days he did not come, and was brighter when he did come and lie.
+
+Things went smoothly, and so pleasantly, that he would gladly have
+prolonged this form of courtship for a month or two longer, sooner than
+risk a premature declaration. But more than one cause drove him to a
+bolder course; his passion, which increased in violence by contact with
+its beautiful object, and also a great uneasiness he felt at not hearing
+from Phoebe. This silence was ominous. He and she knew each other, and
+what the other was capable of. He knew she was the woman to cross the
+seas after him, if Staines left the diggings, and any explanation took
+place that might point to his whereabouts.
+
+These double causes precipitated matters, and at last he began to throw
+more devotion into his manner; and having so prepared her for a few
+days, he took his opportunity and said, one day, "We are both unhappy.
+Give me the right to console you."
+
+She colored high, and said, "You have consoled me more than all the
+world. But there is a limit; always will be."
+
+One less adroit would have brought her to the point; but this artist
+only sighed, and let the arrow rankle. By this means he out-fenced her;
+for now she had listened to a declaration and not stopped it short.
+
+He played melancholy for a day or two, and then he tried her another
+way. He said, "I promised your dying husband to be your protector, and
+a father to his child. I see but one way to keep my word, and that gives
+me courage to speak--without that I never could. Rosa, I loved you years
+ago, I am unmarried for your sake. Let me be your husband, and a father
+to your child."
+
+Rosa shook her head. "I COULD not marry again. I esteem you, I am very
+grateful to you: and I know I behaved ill to you before. If I could
+marry again, it would be you. But I cannot. Oh, never! never!"
+
+"Then we both are to be unhappy all our days."
+
+"I shall, as I ought to be. You will not, I hope. I shall miss you
+sadly; but, for all that, I advise you to leave me. You will carry my
+everlasting gratitude, go where you will; that and my esteem are all I
+have to give."
+
+"I will go," said he; "and I hope he who is gone will forgive my want of
+courage."
+
+"He who is gone took my promise never to marry again."
+
+"Dying men see clearer. I am sure he wished--no matter; it is too
+delicate." He kissed her hand and went out, a picture of dejection.
+
+Mrs. Staines shed a tear for him.
+
+Nothing was heard of him for several days; and Rosa pitied him more and
+more, and felt a certain discontent with herself, and doubt whether she
+had done right.
+
+Matters were in this state, when one morning Emily came screaming in
+from the garden, "The child!--Master Christie!--Where is he?--Where is
+he?"
+
+The house was alarmed. The garden searched, the adjoining paddock. The
+child was gone.
+
+Emily was examined, and owned, with many sobs and hysterical cries, that
+she had put him down in the summer-house for a minute, while she went to
+ask the gardener for some balm, balm tea being a favorite drink of hers.
+"But there was nobody near that I saw," she sobbed.
+
+Further inquiry proved, however, that a tall gypsy woman had been seen
+prowling about that morning; and suspicion instantly fastened on her.
+Servants were sent out right and left; but nothing discovered; and the
+agonized mother, terrified out of her wits, had Falcon telegraphed to
+immediately.
+
+He came galloping down that very evening, and heard the story. He
+galloped into Gravesend, and after seeing the police, sent word out he
+should advertise. He placarded Gravesend with bills, offering a reward
+of a thousand pounds, the child to be brought to him, and no questions
+asked.
+
+Meantime the police and many of the neighboring gentry came about the
+miserable mother with their vague ideas.
+
+Down comes Falcon again next day; tells what he has done, and treats
+them all with contempt. "Don't you be afraid, Mrs. Staines," said he.
+"You will get him back. I have taken the sure way. This sort of rogues
+dare not go near the police, and the police can't find them. You have no
+enemies; it is only some woman that has fancied a beautiful child. Well,
+she can have them by the score, for a thousand pounds."
+
+He was the only one with a real idea; the woman saw it, and clung to
+him. He left late at night.
+
+Next morning out came the advertisements, and he sent her a handful by
+special messenger. His zeal and activity kept her bereaved heart from
+utter despair.
+
+At eleven that night came a telegraph:--
+
+
+"I have got him. Coming down by special train."
+
+
+Then what a burst of joy and gratitude! The very walls of the house
+seemed to ring with it as a harp rings with music. A special train, too!
+he would not let the mother yearn all night.
+
+At one in the morning he drove up with the child and a hired nurse.
+
+Imagine the scene! The mother's screams of joy, her furious kisses, her
+cooing, her tears, and all the miracles of nature at such a time. The
+servants all mingled with their employers in the general rapture, and
+Emily, who was pale as death, cried and sobbed, and said, "Oh, ma'am,
+I'll never let him out of my sight again, no, not for one minute."
+Falcon made her a signal, and went out. She met him in the garden.
+
+She was much agitated, and cried, "Oh, you did well to bring him to-day.
+I could not have kept it another hour. I'm a wretch."
+
+"You are a good kind girl; and here's the fifty pounds I promised you."
+
+"Well, and I have earned it."
+
+"Of course you have. Meet me in the garden to-morrow morning, and I'll
+show you you have done a kind thing to your mistress, as well as me. And
+as for the fifty pounds, that is NOTHING; do you hear? it is nothing at
+all, compared with what I will do for you, if you will be true to me,
+and hold your tongue."
+
+"Oh! as for that, my tongue shan't betray you, nor shame ME. You are a
+gentleman, and I do think you love her, or I would not help you."
+
+So she salved her nursemaid's conscience--with the help of the fifty
+pounds.
+
+The mother was left to her rapture that night. In the morning Falcon
+told his tale.
+
+"At two P.M. a man had called on him, and had produced one of his
+advertisements, and had asked him if that was all square--no bobbies on
+the lurk. 'All square, my fine fellow.' 'Well,' said he, 'I suppose you
+are a gentleman.' 'I am of that opinion too.' 'Well, sir,' says he,
+'I know a party as has FOUND a young gent as comes werry nigh your
+advertisement.' 'It will be a very lucky find to that party,' I said,
+'if he is on the square.' 'Oh, WE are always on the square, when the
+blunt is put down.' 'The blunt for the child, when you like, and where
+you like,' said I. 'You are the right sort,' said he. 'I am,' replied I.
+'Will you come and see if it is all right?' said he. 'In a minute,' said
+I. Stepped into my bedroom, and loaded my six-shooter."
+
+"What is that?" said Lusignan.
+
+"A revolver with six barrels: by the by, the very same I killed the lion
+with. Ugh! I never think of that scene without feeling a little quiver;
+and my nerves are pretty good, too. Well, he took me into an awful part
+of the town, down a filthy close, into some boozing ken--I beg pardon,
+some thieves' public-house."
+
+"Oh, my dear friend," said Rosa, "were you not frightened?"
+
+"Shall I tell you the truth, or play the hero? I think I'll tell YOU the
+truth. I felt a little frightened, lest they should get my money and my
+life, without my getting my godson: that is what I call him now. Well,
+two ugly dogs came in, and said, 'Let us see the flimsies, before you
+see the kid.'
+
+"'That is rather sharp practice, I think,' said I; 'however, here's the
+swag, and here's the watch-dog.' So I put down the notes, and my hand
+over them with my revolver cocked, and ready to fire."
+
+"Yes, yes," said Rosa pantingly. "Ah, you were a match for them."
+
+"Well, Mrs. Staines, if I was writing you a novel, I suppose I should
+tell you the rogues recoiled; but the truth is they only laughed, and
+were quite pleased. 'Swell's in earnest,' said one, 'Jem, show the
+kid.' Jem whistled, and in came a great tall black gypsy woman, with the
+darling. My heart was in my mouth, but I would not let them see it. I
+said, 'It is all right. Take half the notes here, and half at the door.'
+They agreed, and then I did it quick, walked to the door, took the
+child, gave them the odd notes, and made off as fast as I could, hired a
+nurse at the hospital--and the rest you know."
+
+"Papa," said Rosa, with enthusiasm, "there is but one man in England who
+would have got me back my child, and this is he."
+
+When they were alone, Falcon told her she had said words that gladdened
+his very heart. "You admit I can carry out one half of his wishes?" said
+he.
+
+Mrs. Staines said "Yes," then colored high; then, to turn it off, said,
+"But I cannot allow you to lose that large sum of money. You must let me
+repay you."
+
+"Large sum of money!" said he. "It is no more to me than sixpence to
+most people. I don't know what to do with my money; and I never shall
+know, unless you will make a sacrifice of your own feelings to the
+wishes of the dead. O Mrs. Staines--Rosa, do pray consider that a man of
+that wisdom sees the future, and gives wise advice. Sure am I that,
+if you could overcome your natural repugnance to a second marriage, it
+would be the best thing for your little boy--I love him already as if
+he were my own--and in time would bring you peace and comfort, and some
+day, years hence, even happiness. You are my only love; yet I should
+never have come to you again if HE had not sent me. Do consider how
+strange it all is, and what it points to, and don't let me have the
+misery of losing you again, when you can do no better now, alas! than
+reward my fidelity."
+
+She was much moved at this artful appeal, and said, "If I was sure I was
+obeying his will. But how can I feel that, when we both promised never
+to wed again?"
+
+"A man's dying words are more sacred than any other. You have his
+letter."
+
+"Yes, but he does not say 'marry again.'"
+
+"That is what he meant, though."
+
+"How can you say that? How can you know?"
+
+"Because I put the words he said to me together with that short line to
+you. Mind, I don't say that he did not exaggerate my poor merits; on the
+contrary, I think he did. But I declare to you that he did hope I should
+take care of you and your child. Right or wrong, it was his wish, so
+pray do not deceive yourself on that point."
+
+This made more impression on her than anything else he could say, and
+she said, "I promise you one thing, I will never marry any man but you."
+
+Instead of pressing her further, as an inferior artist would, he broke
+into raptures, kissed her hand tenderly, and was in such high spirits,
+and so voluble all day, that she smiled sweetly on him, and thought to
+herself, "Poor soul! how happy I could make him with a word!"
+
+As he was always watching her face--a practice he carried further than
+any person living--he divined that sentiment, and wrought upon it so,
+that at last he tormented her into saying she would marry him SOME DAY.
+
+When he had brought her to that, he raged inwardly to think he had not
+two years to work in; for it was evident she would marry him in time.
+But no, it had taken him more than four months, close siege, to bring
+her to that. No word from Phoebe. An ominous dread hung over his own
+soul. His wife would be upon him, or, worse still, her brother Dick,
+who he knew would beat him to a mummy on the spot; or, worst of all, the
+husband of Rosa Staines, who would kill him, or fling him into a prison.
+He MUST make a push.
+
+In this emergency he used his ally, Mr. Lusignan; he told him Mrs.
+Staines had promised to marry him, but at some distant date. This would
+not do; he must look after his enormous interests in the colony, and he
+was so much in love he could not leave her.
+
+The old gentleman was desperately fond of Falcon, and bent on the match,
+and he actually consented to give his daughter what Falcon called a
+little push.
+
+The little push was a very great one, I think.
+
+It consisted in directing the clergyman to call in church the banns of
+marriage between Reginald Falcon and Rosa Staines.
+
+They were both in church together when this was done. Rosa all but
+screamed, and then turned red as fire and white as a ghost, by turns.
+She never stood up again all the service; and in going home refused
+Falcon's arm, and walked swiftly home by herself. Not that she had the
+slightest intention of passing this monstrous thing by in silence. On
+the contrary, her wrath was boiling over, and so hot that she knew she
+should make a scene in the street if she said a word there.
+
+Once inside the house she turned on Falcon, with a white cheek and a
+flashing eye, and said, "Follow me, sir, if you please." She led the
+way to her father's study. "Papa," said she, "I throw myself on your
+protection. Mr. Falcon has affronted me."
+
+"Oh, Rosa!" cried Falcon, affecting utter dismay.
+
+"Publicly--publicly: he has had the banns of marriage cried in the
+church, without my permission."
+
+"Don't raise your voice so loud, child. All the house will hear you."
+
+"I choose all the house to hear me. I will not endure it. I will never
+marry you now--never!"
+
+"Rosa, my child," said Lusignan, "you need not scold poor Falcon, for I
+am the culprit. It was I who ordered the banns to be cried."
+
+"Oh! papa, you had no right to do such a thing as that."
+
+"I think I had. I exercised parental authority for once, and for your
+good, and for the good of a true and faithful lover of yours, whom you
+jilted once, and now you trifle with his affection and his interests.
+He loves you too well to leave you; yet you know his vast estates and
+interests require supervision."
+
+"That for his vast estates!" said Rosa contemptuously. "I am not to be
+driven to the altar like this, when my heart is in the grave. Don't
+you do it again, papa, or I'll get up and forbid the banns; affront for
+affront."
+
+"I should like to see that," said the old gentleman dryly.
+
+Rosa vouchsafed no reply, but swept out of the room, with burning cheeks
+and glittering eyes, and was not seen all day, would not dine with them,
+in spite of three humble, deprecating notes Falcon sent her.
+
+"Let the spiteful cat alone," said old Lusignan. "You and I will dine
+together in peace and quiet."
+
+It was a dull dinner; but Falcon took advantage of the opportunity,
+impregnated the father with his views, and got him to promise to have
+the banns cried next Sunday. He consented.
+
+Rosa learned next Sunday morning that this was to be done, and her
+courage failed her. She did not go to church at all.
+
+She cried a great deal, and submitted to violence, as your true women
+are too apt to do. They had compromised her, and so conquered her. The
+permanent feelings of gratitude and esteem caused a reaction after her
+passion, and she gave up open resistance as hopeless.
+
+Falcon renewed his visits, and was received with the mere sullen languor
+of a woman who has given in.
+
+The banns were cried a third time.
+
+Then the patient Rosa bought laudanum enough to reunite her to her
+Christopher, in spite of them all; and having provided herself with this
+resource, became more cheerful, and even kind and caressing.
+
+She declined to name the day at present, and that was awkward.
+Nevertheless the conspirators felt sure they should tire her out into
+doing that, before long; for they saw their way clear, and she was
+perplexed in the extreme.
+
+In her perplexity, she used to talk to a certain beautiful star she
+called her Christopher. She loved to fancy he was now an inhabitant of
+that bright star; and often on a clear night she would look up, and beg
+for guidance from this star. This I consider foolish: but then I am old
+and sceptical; she was still young and innocent, and sorely puzzled to
+know her husband's real will.
+
+I don't suppose the star had anything to do with it, except as a
+focus of her thoughts; but one fine night, after a long inspection
+of Christopher's star, she dreamed a dream. She thought that a lovely
+wedding-dress hung over a chair, that a crown of diamonds as large
+as almonds sparkled ready for her on the dressing-table, and she was
+undoing her black gown, and about to take it off, when suddenly the
+diamonds began to pale, and the white satin dress to melt away, and
+in its place there rose a pale face and a long beard, and Christopher
+Staines stood before her, and said quietly, "Is this how you keep
+your vow?" Then he sank slowly, and the white dress was black, and the
+diamonds were jet; and she awoke, with his gentle words of remonstrance
+and his very tones ringing in her ear.
+
+This dream, co-operating with her previous agitation and misgivings,
+shook her very much; she did not come down-stairs till near dinner-time;
+and both her father and Falcon, who came as a matter of course to spend
+his Sunday, were struck with her appearance. She was pale, gloomy,
+morose, and had an air of desperation about her.
+
+Falcon would not see it; he knew that it is safest to let her sex alone
+when they look like that; and then the storm sometimes subsides of
+itself.
+
+After dinner, Rosa retired early; and soon she was heard walking rapidly
+up and down the dressing-room.
+
+This was quite unusual, and made a noise.
+
+Papa Lusignan thought it inconsiderate; and after a while, remarking
+gently that he was not particularly fond of sound, he proposed they
+should smoke the pipe of peace on the lawn.
+
+They did so; but after a while, finding that Falcon was not smoking, he
+said, "Don't let me detain you. Rosa is alone."
+
+Falcon took the hint, and went to the drawing-room. Rosa met him on the
+stairs, with a scarf over her shoulders. "I must speak to papa," said
+she. "Where is he?"
+
+"He is on the lawn, dear Rosa," said Falcon, in his most dulcet tones.
+He was sure of his ally, and very glad to use him as a buffer to receive
+the first shock.
+
+So he went into the drawing-room, where all the lights were burning, and
+quietly took up a book. But he did not read a line; he was too occupied
+in trying to read his own future.
+
+The mean villain, who is incapable of remorse, is, of all men, most
+capable of fear. His villany had, to all appearance, reached the goal;
+for he felt sure that all Rosa's struggles would, sooner or later,
+succumb to her sense of gratitude and his strong will and patient
+temper. But when the victory was won, what a life! He must fly with
+her to some foreign country, pursued from pillar to post by an enraged
+husband, and by the offended law. And if he escaped the vindictive foe
+a year or two, how could he escape that other enemy he knew, and
+dreaded--poverty? He foresaw he should come to hate the woman he was
+about to wrong, and she would instantly revenge herself, by making him
+an exile and, soon or late, a prisoner, or a pauper.
+
+While these misgivings battled with his base but ardent passion, strange
+things were going on out of doors--but they will be best related in
+another sequence of events, to which indeed they fairly belong.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+
+Staines and Mrs. Falcon landed at Plymouth, and went up to town by the
+same train. They parted in London, Staines to go down to Gravesend, Mrs.
+Falcon to visit her husband's old haunts, and see if she could find him.
+
+She did not find him; but she heard of him, and learned that he always
+went down to Gravesend from Saturday till Monday.
+
+Notwithstanding all she had said to Staines, the actual information
+startled her, and gave her a turn. She was obliged to sit down, for her
+knees seemed to give way. It was but a momentary weakness. She was now
+a wife and a mother, and had her rights. She said to herself, "My rogue
+has turned that poor woman's head long before this, no doubt. But I
+shall go down and just bring him away by the ear."
+
+For once her bitter indignation overpowered every other sentiment, and
+she lost no time, but late as it was went down to Gravesend, ordered a
+private sitting-room and bedroom for the night, and took a fly to Kent
+Villa.
+
+But Christopher Staines had the start of her. He had already gone down
+to Gravesend with his carpet-bag, left it at the inn, and walked to Kent
+Villa that lovely summer night, the happiest husband in England.
+
+His heart had never for one instant been disturbed by Mrs. Falcon's
+monstrous suspicion; he looked on her as a monomaniac; a sensible woman
+insane on one point, her husband.
+
+When he reached the villa, however, he thought it prudent to make sure
+that Falcon had come to England at all, and discharged his commission.
+He would not run the risk, small as he thought it, of pouncing
+unexpected on his Rosa, being taken for a ghost, and terrifying her, or
+exciting her to madness.
+
+Now the premises of Kent Villa were admirably adapted to what they call
+in war a reconnaissance. The lawn was studded with laurestinas and other
+shrubs that had grown magnificently in that Kentish air.
+
+Staines had no sooner set his foot on the lawn, than he heard voices;
+he crept towards them from bush to bush; and standing in impenetrable
+shade, he saw in the clear moonlight two figures--Mr. Lusignan and
+Reginald Falcon.
+
+These two dropped out only a word or two at intervals; but what they did
+say struck Staines as odd. For one thing, Lusignan remarked, "I suppose
+you will want to go back to the Cape. Such enormous estates as yours
+will want looking after."
+
+"Enormous estates!" said Staines to himself. "Then they must have grown
+very fast in a few months."
+
+"Oh, yes," said Falcon; "but I think of showing her a little of Europe
+first."
+
+Staines thought this still more mysterious; he waited to hear more, but
+the succeeding remarks were of an ordinary kind.
+
+He noticed, however, that Falcon spoke of his wife by her Christian
+name, and that neither party mentioned Christopher Staines. He seemed
+quite out of their little world.
+
+He began to feel a strange chill creep down him.
+
+Presently Falcon went off to join Rosa; and Staines thought it was
+quite time to ask the old gentleman whether Falcon had executed his
+commission, or not.
+
+He was only hesitating how to do it, not liking to pounce in the dark
+on a man who abhorred everything like excitement, when Rosa herself came
+flying out in great agitation.
+
+Oh! the thrill he felt at the sight of her! With all his
+self-possession, he would have sprung forward and taken her in his arms
+with a mighty cry of love, if she had not immediately spoken words that
+rooted him to the spot with horror. But she came with the words in her
+very mouth; "Papa, I am come to tell you I cannot, and will not, marry
+Mr. Falcon."
+
+"Oh, yes, you will, my dear."
+
+"Never! I'll die sooner. Not that you will care for that. I tell you
+I saw my Christopher last night--in a dream. He had a beard; but I saw
+him, oh, so plain; and he said, 'Is this the way you keep your promise?'
+That is enough for me. I have prayed, again and again, to his star,
+for light. I am so perplexed and harassed by you all, and you make me
+believe what you like. Well, I have had a revelation. It is not my poor
+lost darling's wish I should wed again. I don't believe Mr. Falcon any
+more. I hear nothing but lies by day. The truth comes to my bedside at
+night. I will not marry this man."
+
+"Consider, Rosa, your credit is pledged. You must not be always jilting
+him heartlessly. Dreams! nonsense. There--I love peace. It is no use
+your storming at me; rave to the moon and the stars, if you like, and
+when you have done, do pray come in, and behave like a rational woman,
+who has pledged her faith to an honorable man, and a man of vast
+estates--a man that nursed your husband in his last illness, found your
+child, at a great expense, when you had lost him, and merits eternal
+gratitude, not eternal jilting. I have no patience with you."
+
+The old gentleman retired in high dudgeon.
+
+Staines stood in the black shade of his cedar-tree, rooted to the ground
+by this revelation of male villany and female credulity.
+
+He did not know what on earth to do. He wanted to kill Falcon, but not
+to terrify his own wife to death. It was now too clear she thought he
+was dead.
+
+Rosa watched her father's retiring figure out of sight. "Very well,"
+said she, clenching her teeth; then suddenly she turned, and looked up
+to heaven. "Do you hear?" said she, "my Christie's star? I am a poor
+perplexed creature. I asked you for a sign, and that very night I saw
+him in a dream. Why should I marry out of gratitude? Why should I marry
+one man, when I love another? What does it matter his being dead? I love
+him too well to be wife to any living man. They persuade me, they coax
+me, they pull me, they push me. I see they will make me. But I will
+outwit them. See--see!" and she held up a little phial in the moonlight.
+"This shall cut the knot for me; this shall keep me true to my Christie,
+and save me from breaking promises I ought never to have made. This
+shall unite me once more with him I killed, and loved."
+
+She meant she would kill herself the night before the wedding, which
+perhaps she would not, and perhaps she would. Who can tell? The weak
+are violent. But Christopher, seeing the poison so near her lips, was
+perplexed, took two strides, wrenched it out of her hand, with a snarl
+of rage, and instantly plunged into the shade again.
+
+Rosa uttered a shriek, and flew into the house.
+
+The farther she got, the more terrified she became, and soon Christopher
+heard her screaming in the drawing-room in an alarming way. They were
+like the screams of the insane.
+
+He got terribly anxious, and followed her. All the doors were open.
+
+As he went up-stairs, he heard her cry, "His ghost! his ghost! I have
+seen his ghost! No, no. I feel his hand upon my arm now. A beard! and so
+he had in the dream! He is alive. My darling is alive. You have deceived
+me. You are an impostor--a villain. Out of the house this moment, or he
+shall kill you."
+
+"Are you mad?" cried Falcon. "How can he be alive, when I saw him dead?"
+
+This was too much. Staines gave the door a blow with his arm, and strode
+into the apartment, looking white and tremendous.
+
+Falcon saw death in his face; gave a shriek, drew his revolver, and
+fired at him with as little aim as he had at the lioness; then made for
+the open window. Staines seized a chair, followed him, and hurled it
+at him; and the chair and the man went through the window together, and
+then there was a strange thud heard outside.
+
+Rosa gave a loud scream, and swooned away.
+
+Staines laid his wife flat on the floor, got the women about her, and at
+last she began to give the usual signs of returning life.
+
+Staines said to the oldest woman there, "If she sees me, she will go
+off again. Carry her to her room; and tell her, by degrees, that I am
+alive."
+
+All this time Papa Lusignan had sat trembling and whimpering in a chair,
+moaning, "This is a painful scene--very painful." But at last an idea
+struck him--"WHY, YOU HAVE ROBBED THE OFFICE!"
+
+Scarcely was Mrs. Staines out of the room, when a fly drove up, and this
+was immediately followed by violent and continuous screaming close under
+the window.
+
+"Oh, dear!" sighed Papa Lusignan.
+
+They ran down, and found Falcon impaled at full length on the spikes of
+the villa, and Phoebe screaming over him, and trying in vain to lift
+him off them. He had struggled a little, in silent terror, but had then
+fainted from fear and loss of blood, and lying rather inside the rails,
+which were high, he could not be extricated from the outside.
+
+As soon as his miserable condition was discovered, the servants ran down
+into the kitchen, and so up to the rails by the area steps. These
+rails had caught him; one had gone clean through his arm, the other had
+penetrated the fleshy part of the thigh, and a third pierced his ear.
+
+They got him off; but he was insensible, and the place drenched with his
+blood.
+
+Phoebe clutched Staines by the arm. "Let me know the worst," said she.
+"Is he dead?"
+
+Staines examined him, and said "No."
+
+"Can you save him?"
+
+"I?"
+
+"Yes. Who can, if you cannot? Oh, have mercy on me!" and she went on her
+knees to him, and put her forehead on his knees.
+
+He was touched by her simple faith; and the noble traditions of his
+profession sided with his gratitude to this injured woman. "My poor
+friend," said he, "I will do my best, for YOUR sake."
+
+He took immediate steps for stanching the blood; and the fly carried
+Phoebe and her villain to the inn at Gravesend.
+
+Falcon came to on the road; but finding himself alone with Phoebe,
+shammed unconsciousness of everything but pain.
+
+Staines, being thoroughly enraged with Rosa, yet remembering his solemn
+vow never to abuse her again, saw her father, and told him to tell her
+he should think over her conduct quietly, not wishing to be harder upon
+her than she deserved.
+
+Rosa, who had been screaming, and crying for joy, ever since she came to
+her senses, was not so much afflicted at this message as one might have
+expected. He was alive, and all things else were trifles.
+
+Nevertheless, when day after day went by, and not even a line from
+Christopher, she began to fear he would cast her off entirely; the more
+so as she heard he was now and then at Gravesend to visit Mrs. Falcon at
+the inn.
+
+While matters were thus, Uncle Philip burst on her like a bomb. "He is
+alive! he is alive! he is alive!" And they had a cuddle over it.
+
+"Oh, Uncle Philip! Have you seen him?"
+
+"Seen him? Yes. He caught me on the hop, just as I came in from Italy. I
+took him for a ghost."
+
+"Oh, weren't you frightened?"
+
+"Not a bit. I don't mind ghosts. I'd have half a dozen to dinner every
+day, if I might choose 'em. I couldn't stand stupid ones. But I say,
+his temper isn't improved by all this dying: he is in an awful rage with
+you; and what for?"
+
+"O uncle! what for? Because I'm the vilest of women!"
+
+"Vilest of fiddlesticks! It's his fault, not yours. Shouldn't have died.
+It's always a dangerous experiment."
+
+"I shall die if he will not forgive me. He keeps away from me and from
+his child."
+
+"I'll tell you. He heard, in Gravesend, your banns had been cried: that
+has moved the peevish fellow's bile."
+
+"It was done without my consent. Papa will tell you so; and, O uncle,
+if you knew the arts, the forged letter in my darling's hand, the way he
+wrought on me! O villain! villain! Uncle, forgive your poor silly niece,
+that the world is too wicked and too clever for her to live in."
+
+"Because you are too good and innocent," said Uncle Philip. "There,
+don't you be down-hearted. I'll soon bring you two together again--a
+couple of ninnies. I'll tell you what is the first thing: you must come
+and live with me. Come at once, bag and baggage. He won't show here, the
+sulky brute."
+
+Philip Staines had a large house in Cavendish Square, a crusty old
+patient, like himself, had left him. It was his humor to live in a
+corner of this mansion, though the whole was capitally furnished by his
+judicious purchases at auctions.
+
+He gave Rosa and her boy and his nurse the entire first floor, and told
+her she was there for life. "Look here," said he, "this last affair has
+opened my eyes. Such women as you are the sweeteners of existence. You
+leave my roof no more. Your husband will make the same discovery. Let
+him run about, and be miserable a bit. He will have to come to book."
+
+She shook her head sadly.
+
+"My Christopher will never say a harsh word to me. All the worse for me.
+He will quietly abandon a creature so inferior to him."
+
+"Stuff!"
+
+Now, she was always running to the window, in hope that Christopher
+would call on his uncle, and that she might see him; and one day she
+gave a scream so eloquent, Philip knew what it meant. "Get you behind
+that screen, you and your boy," said he, "and be as still as mice. Stop!
+give me that letter the scoundrel forged, and the ring."
+
+This was hardly done, and Rosa out of sight, and trembling from head
+to foot, when Christopher was announced. Philip received him very
+affectionately, but wasted no time.
+
+"Been to Kent Villa yet?"
+
+"No," was the grim reply.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I have sworn never to say an angry word to her again; and, if
+I was to go there, I should say a good many angry ones. Oh, when I think
+that her folly drove me to sea, to do my best for her, and that I was
+nearer death for that woman than ever man was, and lost my reason for
+her, and went through toil and privations, hunger, exile, mainly
+for her, and then to find the banns cried in open church, with that
+scoundrel!--say no more, uncle. I shall never reproach her, and never
+forgive her."
+
+"She was deceived."
+
+"I don't doubt that; but nobody has a right to be so great a fool as all
+that."
+
+"It was not her folly, but her innocence, that was imposed on. You a
+philosopher, and not know that wisdom itself is sometimes imposed on,
+and deceived by cunning folly! Have you forgotten your Milton?--
+
+     "'At Wisdom's gate, Suspicion sleeps,
+     And deems no ill where no ill seems.'
+
+"Come, come! are you sure you are not a little to blame? Did you write
+home the moment you found you were not dead?"
+
+Christopher colored high.
+
+"Evidently not," said the keen old man. "Ah, my fine fellow! have I
+found the flaw in your own armor?"
+
+"I did wrong, but it was for her. I sinned for her. I could not bear her
+to be without money, and I knew the insurance--I sinned for her. She has
+sinned AGAINST me."
+
+"And she had much better have sinned against God, hadn't she? He is more
+forgiving than we perfect creatures that cheat insurance companies. And
+so, my fine fellow, you hid the truth from her for two or three months."
+
+No answer.
+
+"Strike off those two or three months; would the banns have ever been
+cried?"
+
+"Well, uncle," said Christopher, hard pressed, "I am glad she has got a
+champion; and I hope you will always keep your eye on her."
+
+"I mean to."
+
+"Good-morning."
+
+"No; don't be in a hurry. I have something else to say, not so
+provoking. Do you know the arts by which she was made to believe you
+wished her to marry again?"
+
+"I wished her to marry again! Are you mad, uncle?"
+
+"Whose handwriting is on this envelope?"
+
+"Mine, to be sure."
+
+"Now, read the letter."
+
+Christopher read the forged letter.
+
+"Oh, monstrous!"
+
+"This was given her with your ruby ring, and a tale so artful that
+nothing we read about the devil comes near it. This was what did it. The
+Earl of Tadcaster brought her title, and wealth, and love."
+
+"What, he too! The little cub I saved, and lost myself for--blank him!
+blank him!"
+
+"Why, you stupid ninny! you forget you were dead; and he could not help
+loving her. How could he? Well, but you see she refused him. And why?
+because he came without a forged letter from YOU. Do you doubt her love
+for you?"
+
+"Of course I do. She never loved me as I loved her."
+
+"Christopher, don't you say that before me, or you and I shall quarrel.
+Poor girl! she lay, in my sight, as near death for you as you were for
+her. I'll show you something."
+
+He went to a cabinet, and took out a silver paper; he unpinned it, and
+laid Rosa's beautiful black hair upon her husband's knees. "Look at
+that, you hard-hearted brute!" he roared to Christopher, who sat,
+anything but hard-hearted, his eyes filling fast, at the sad proof of
+his wife's love and suffering.
+
+Rosa could bear no more. She came out with her boy in her hand. "O
+uncle, do not speak harshly to him, or you will kill me quite!"
+
+She came across the room, a picture of timidity and penitence, with her
+whole eloquent body bent forward at an angle. She kneeled at his knees,
+with streaming eyes, and held her boy up to him: "Plead for your poor
+mother, my darling. She mourns her fault, and will never excuse it."
+
+The cause was soon decided. All Philip's logic was nothing, compared
+with mighty nature. Christopher gave one great sob, and took his darling
+to his heart, without one word; and he and Rosa clung together, and
+cried over each other. Philip slipped out of the room, and left the
+restored ones together.
+
+
+I have something more to say about my hero and heroine, but must first
+deal with other characters, not wholly uninteresting to the reader, I
+hope.
+
+Dr. Staines directed Phoebe Falcon how to treat her husband. No
+medicine, no stimulants; very wholesome food, in moderation, and
+the temperature of the body regulated by tepid water. Under these
+instructions, the injured but still devoted wife was the real healer.
+He pulled through, but was lame for life, and ridiculously lame, for he
+went with a spring halt,--a sort of hop-and-go-one that made the girls
+laugh, and vexed Adonis.
+
+Phoebe found the diamonds, and offered them all to Staines, in expiation
+of his villany. "See," she said, "he has only spent one."
+
+Staines said he was glad of it, for her sake, for he must be just to his
+own family. He sold them for three thousand two hundred pounds; but
+for the big diamond he got twelve thousand pounds, and I believe it was
+worth double the money.
+
+Counting the two sums, and deducting six hundred for the stone Mr.
+Falcon had embezzled, he gave her over seven thousand pounds.
+
+She stared at him, and changed color at so large a sum. "But I have no
+claim on that, sir."
+
+"That is a good joke," said he. "Why, you and I are partners in the
+whole thing--you and I and Dick. Was it not with his horse and rifle I
+bought the big diamond? Poor dear, honest, manly Dick! No, the money is
+honestly yours, Mrs. Falcon; but don't trust a penny to your husband."
+
+"He will never see it, sir. I shall take him back, and give him all his
+heart can ask for, with this; but he will be little more than a servant
+in the house now, as long as Dick is single; I know that;" and she could
+still cry at the humiliation of her villain.
+
+Staines made her promise to write to him; and she did write him a sweet,
+womanly letter, to say that they were making an enormous fortune, and
+hoped to end their days in England. Dick sent his kind love and thanks.
+
+I will add, what she only said by implication, that she was happy after
+all. She still contrived to love the thing she could not respect. Once,
+when an officious friend pitied her for her husband's lameness, she
+said, "Find me a face like his. The lamer the better; he can't run after
+the girls, like SOME."
+
+Dr. Staines called on Lady Cicely Treherne; the footman stared. He left
+his card.
+
+A week afterwards, she called on him. She had a pink tinge in her
+cheeks, a general animation, and her face full of brightness and
+archness.
+
+"Bless me!" said he bluntly, "is this you? How you are improved!"
+
+"Yes," said she; "and I am come to thank you for your pwescwiption: I
+followed it to the lettaa."
+
+"Woe is me! I have forgotten it."
+
+"You diwected me to mawwy a nice man."
+
+"Never: I hate a nice man."
+
+"No, no--an Iwishman: and I have done it."
+
+"Good gracious! you don't mean that! I must be more cautious in my
+prescriptions. After all, it seems to agree."
+
+"Admiwably."
+
+"He loves you?"
+
+"To distwaction."
+
+"He amuses you?"
+
+"Pwodigiously. Come and see."
+
+
+Dr. and Mrs. Staines live with Uncle Philip. The insurance money is
+returned, but the diamond money makes them very easy. Staines follows
+his profession now under great advantages: a noble house, rent free; the
+curiosity that attaches to a man who has been canted out of a ship in
+mid-ocean, and lives to tell it; and then Lord Tadcaster, married into
+another noble house, swears by him, and talks of him; so does Lady
+Cicely Munster, late Treherne; and when such friends as these are warm,
+it makes a physician the centre of an important clientele; but his
+best friend of all is his unflagging industry, and his truly wonderful
+diagnosis, which resembles divination. He has the ball at his feet, and
+above all, that without which worldly success soon palls, a happy home,
+a fireside warm with sympathy.
+
+Mrs. Staines is an admiring, sympathizing wife, and an admirable
+housekeeper. She still utters inadvertencies now and then, commits new
+errors at odd times, but never repeats them when exposed. Observing
+which docility, Uncle Philip has been heard to express a fear that,
+in twenty years, she will be the wisest woman in England. "But, thank
+heaven!" he adds, "I shall be gone before that."
+
+Her conduct and conversation afford this cynic constant food for
+observation; and he has delivered himself oracularly at various stages
+of the study: but I cannot say that his observations, taken as a whole,
+present that consistency which entitles them to be regarded as a body
+of philosophy. Examples: In the second month after Mrs. Staines came to
+live with him, he delivered himself thus: "My niece Rosa is an anomaly.
+She gives you the impression she is shallow. Mind your eye: in one
+moment she will take you out of your depth or any man's depth. She is
+like those country streams I used to fish for pike when I was young;
+you go along, seeing the bottom everywhere; but presently you come to
+a corner, and it is fifteen deep all in a moment, and souse you go over
+head and ears: that's my niece Rosa."
+
+In six months he had got to this--and, mind you, each successive dogma
+was delivered in a loud, aggressive tone, and in sublime oblivion of the
+preceding oracle--"My niece Rosa is the most artful woman. (You may haw!
+haw! haw! as much as you like. You have not found out her little game--I
+have.) What is the aim of all women? To be beloved by an unconscionable
+number of people. Well, she sets up for a simpleton, and so disarms all
+the brilliant people, and they love her. Everybody loves her. Just you
+put her down in a room with six clever women, and you will see who is
+the favorite. She looks as shallow as a pond, and she is as deep as the
+ocean."
+
+At the end of the year he threw off the mask altogether. "The great
+sweetener of a man's life," said he, "is 'a simpleton.' I shall not go
+abroad any more; my house has become attractive: I've got a simpleton.
+When I have a headache, her eyes fill with tender concern, and she
+hovers about me and pesters me with pillows: when I am cross with her,
+she is afraid I am ill. When I die, and leave her a lot of money,
+she will howl for months, and say I don't want his money: 'I
+waw-waw-waw-waw-want my Uncle Philip, to love me, and scold me.' One
+day she told me, with a sigh, I hadn't lectured her for a month. 'I am
+afraid I have offended you,' says she, 'or else worn you out, dear.'
+When I am well, give me a simpleton, to make me laugh. When I am
+ill, give me a simpleton to soothe me with her innocent tenderness. A
+simpleton shall wipe the dews of death, and close my eyes: and when I
+cross the river of death, let me be met by a band of the heavenly host,
+who were all simpletons here on earth, and too good for such a hole, so
+now they are in heaven, and their garments always white--because there
+are no laundresses there."
+
+Arrived at this point, the Anglo-Saxon race will retire, grinning, to
+fresh pastures, and leave this champion of "a Simpleton," to thunder
+paradoxes in a desert.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Simpleton, by Charles Reade
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+**The Project Gutenberg Etext of A Simpleton, by Charles Reade**
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+A Simpleton
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+by Charles Reade
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+August, 2000  [Etext #2301]
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+This etext was prepared by Donald Lainson, charlie@idirect.com.
+
+
+
+
+
+A SIMPLETON
+
+by Charles Reade
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+It has lately been objected to me, in studiously courteous terms of
+course, that I borrow from other books, and am a plagiarist.  To
+this I reply that I borrow facts from every accessible source, and
+am not a plagiarist.  The plagiarist is one who borrows from a
+homogeneous work: for such a man borrows not ideas only, but their
+treatment.  He who borrows only from heterogeneous works is not a
+plagiarist.  All fiction, worth a button, is founded on facts; and
+it does not matter one straw whether the facts are taken from
+personal experience, hearsay, or printed books; only those books
+must not be works of fiction.
+
+Ask your common sense why a man writes better fiction at forty than
+he can at twenty.  It is simply because he has gathered more facts
+from each of these three sources,--experience, hearsay, print.
+
+To those who have science enough to appreciate the above
+distinction, I am very willing to admit that in all my tales I use
+a vast deal of heterogeneous material, which in a life of study I
+have gathered from men, journals, blue-books, histories,
+biographies, law reports, etc.  And if I could, I would gladly
+specify all the various printed sources to which I am indebted.
+But my memory is not equal to such a feat.  I can only say that I
+rarely write a novel without milking about two hundred
+heterogeneous cows into my pail, and that "A Simpleton" is no
+exception to my general method; that method is the true method, and
+the best, and if on that method I do not write prime novels, it is
+the fault of the man, and not of the method.
+
+I give the following particulars as an illustration of my method:
+
+In "A Simpleton," the whole business of the girl spitting blood,
+the surgeon ascribing it to the liver, the consultation, the final
+solution of the mystery, is a matter of personal experience
+accurately recorded.  But the rest of the medical truths, both fact
+and argument, are all from medical books far too numerous to
+specify.  This includes the strange fluctuations of memory in a man
+recovering his reason by degrees.  The behavior of the doctor's
+first two patients I had from a surgeon's daughter in Pimlico.  The
+servant-girl and her box; the purple-faced, pig-faced Beak and his
+justice, are personal experience.  The business of house-renting,
+and the auction-room, is also personal experience.
+
+In the nautical business I had the assistance of two practical
+seamen: my brother, William Barrington Reade, and Commander Charles
+Edward Reade, R.N.
+
+In the South African business I gleaned from Mr. Day's recent
+handbooks; the old handbooks; Galton's "Vacation Tourist;" "Philip
+Mavor; or, Life among the Caffres;" "Fossor;" "Notes on the Cape of
+Good Hope," 1821; "Scenes and Occurrences in Albany and Caffre-
+land," 1827; Bowler's "South African Sketches;" "A Campaign in
+South Africa," Lucas; "Five Years in Caffre-land," Mrs. Ward; etc.,
+etc., etc.  But my principal obligation on this head is to Mr.
+Boyle, the author of some admirable letters to the Daily telegraph,
+which he afterwards reprinted in a delightful volume.  Mr. Boyle
+has a painter's eye, and a writer's pen, and if the African scenes
+in "A Simpleton" please my readers, I hope they will go to the
+fountain-head, where they will find many more.
+
+As to the plot and characters, they are invented.
+
+The title, "A Simpleton," is not quite new.  There is a French play
+called La Niaise.  But La Niaise is in reality a woman of rare
+intelligence, who is taken for a simpleton by a lot of conceited
+fools, and the play runs on their blunders, and her unpretending
+wisdom.  That is a very fine plot, which I recommend to our female
+novelists.  My aim in these pages has been much humbler, and is, I
+hope, too clear to need explanation.
+
+CHARLES READE.
+
+
+
+A SIMPLETON.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+A young lady sat pricking a framed canvas in the drawing-room of
+Kent Villa, a mile from Gravesend; she was making, at a cost of
+time and tinted wool, a chair cover, admirably unfit to be sat
+upon--except by some severe artist, bent on obliterating discordant
+colors.  To do her justice, her mind was not in her work; for she
+rustled softly with restlessness as she sat, and she rose three
+times in twenty minutes, and went to the window.  Thence she looked
+down, over a trim flowery lawn, and long, sloping meadows, on to
+the silver Thames, alive with steamboats ploughing, white sails
+bellying, and great ships carrying to and fro the treasures of the
+globe.  From this fair landscape and epitome of commerce she
+retired each time with listless disdain; she was waiting for
+somebody.
+
+Yet she was one of those whom few men care to keep waiting.  Rosa
+Lusignan was a dark but dazzling beauty, with coal-black hair, and
+glorious dark eyes, that seemed to beam with soul all day long; her
+eyebrows, black, straightish, and rather thick, would have been
+majestic and too severe, had the other features followed suit; but
+her black brows were succeeded by long silky lashes, a sweet oval
+face, two pouting lips studded with ivory, and an exquisite chin,
+as feeble as any man could desire in the partner of his bosom.
+Person--straight, elastic, and rather tall.  Mind--nineteen.
+Accomplishments--numerous; a poor French scholar, a worse German, a
+worse English, an admirable dancer, an inaccurate musician, a good
+rider, a bad draughtswoman, a bad hairdresser, at the mercy of her
+maid; a hot theologian, knowing nothing, a sorry accountant, no
+housekeeper, no seamstress, a fair embroideress, a capital
+geographer, and no cook.
+
+Collectively, viz., mind and body, the girl we kneel to.
+
+This ornamental member of society now glanced at the clock once
+more, and then glided to the window for the fourth time.  She
+peeped at the side a good while, with superfluous slyness or
+shyness, and presently she drew back, blushing crimson; then she
+peeped again, still more furtively; then retired softly to her
+frame, and, for the first time, set to work in earnest.  As she
+plied her harpoon, smiling now, the large and vivid blush, that had
+suffused her face and throat, turned from carnation to rose, and
+melted away slowly, but perceptibly, and ever so sweetly; and
+somebody knocked at the street door.
+
+The blow seemed to drive her deeper into her work.  She leaned over
+it, graceful as a willow, and so absorbed, she could not even see
+the door of the room open and Dr. Staines come in.
+
+All the better: her not perceiving that slight addition to her
+furniture gives me a moment to describe him.
+
+A young man, five feet eleven inches high, very square shouldered
+and deep chested, but so symmetrical, and light in his movements,
+that his size hardly struck one at first.  He was smooth shaved,
+all but a short, thick, auburn whisker; his hair was brown.  His
+features no more then comely: the brow full, the eyes wide apart
+and deep-seated, the lips rather thin, but expressive, the chin
+solid and square.  It was a face of power, and capable of
+harshness; but relieved by an eye of unusual color, between hazel
+and gray, and wonderfully tender.  In complexion he could not
+compare with Rosa; his cheek was clear, but pale; for few young men
+had studied night and day so constantly.  Though but twenty-eight
+years of age, he was literally a learned physician; deep in
+hospital practice; deep in books; especially deep in German
+science, too often neglected or skimmed by English physicians.  He
+had delivered a course of lectures at a learned university with
+general applause.
+
+As my reader has divined, Rosa was preparing the comedy of a cool
+reception; but looking up, she saw his pale cheek tinted with a
+lover's beautiful joy at the bare sight of her, and his soft eye so
+divine with love, that she had not the heart to chill him.  She
+gave him her hand kindly, and smiled brightly on him instead of
+remonstrating.  She lost nothing by it, for the very first thing he
+did was to excuse himself eagerly.  "I am behind time: the fact is,
+just as I was mounting my horse, a poor man came to the gate to
+consult me.  He had a terrible disorder I have sometimes succeeded
+in arresting--I attack the cause instead of the symptoms, which is
+the old practice--and so that detained me.  You forgive me?"
+
+"Of course.  Poor man!--only you said you wanted to see papa, and
+he always goes out at two."
+
+When she had been betrayed into saying this, she drew in suddenly,
+and blushed with a pretty consciousness.
+
+"Then don't let me lose another minute," said the lover.  "Have you
+prepared him for--for--what I am going to have the audacity to
+say?"
+
+Rosa answered, with some hesitation, "I MUST have--a little.  When
+I refused Colonel Bright--you need not devour my hand quite--he is
+forty."
+
+Her sentence ended, and away went the original topic, and
+grammatical sequence along with it.  Christopher Staines recaptured
+them both.  "Yes, dear, when you refused Colonel Bright"--
+
+"Well, papa was astonished; for everybody says the colonel is a
+most eligible match.  Don't you hate that expression?  I do.
+Eligible!"
+
+Christopher made due haste, and recaptured her.  "Yes, love, your
+papa said"--
+
+"I don't think I will tell you.  He asked me was there anybody
+else; and of course I said 'No.'"
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Oh, that is nothing; I had not time to make up my mind to tell the
+truth.  I was taken by surprise; and you know one's first impulse
+is to fib--about THAT."
+
+"But did you really deceive him?"
+
+"No, I blushed; and he caught me; so he said, 'Come, now, there
+was.'"
+
+"And you said, 'Yes, there is,' like a brave girl as you are."
+
+"What, plump like that?  No, I was frightened out of my wits, like
+a brave girl as I am not, and said I should never marry any one he
+could disapprove; and then--oh, then I believe I began to cry.
+Christopher, I'll tell you something; I find people leave off
+teasing you when you cry--gentlemen, I mean.  Ladies go on all the
+more.  So then dear papa kissed me, and told me I must not be
+imprudent, and throw myself away, that was all; and I promised him
+I never would.  I said he would be sure to approve my choice; and
+he said he hoped so.  And so he will."
+
+Dr. Staines looked thoughtful, and said he hoped so too.  "But now
+it comes to the point of asking him for such a treasure, I feel my
+deficiencies."
+
+"Why, what deficiencies?  You are young, and handsome, and good,
+and ever so much cleverer than other people.  You have only to ask
+for me, and insist on having me.  Come, dear, go and get it over."
+She added, mighty coolly, "There is nothing so DREADFUL as
+suspense."
+
+"I'll go this minute," said he, and took a step towards the door;
+but he turned, and in a moment was at her knees.  He took both her
+hands in his, and pressed them to his beating bosom, while his
+beautiful eyes poured love into hers point-blank.  "May I tell him
+you love me?  Oh, I know you cannot love me as I love you; but I
+may say you love me a little, may I not?--that will go farther with
+him than anything else.  May I, Rosa, may I?--a little?"
+
+His passion mastered her.  She dropped her head sweetly on his
+shoulder, and murmured, "You know you may, my own.  Who would not
+love you?"
+
+He parted lingeringly from her, then marched away, bold with love
+and hope, to demand her hand in marriage.
+
+Rosa leaned back in her chair, and quivered a little with new
+emotions.  Christopher was right; she was not capable of loving
+like him; but still the actual contact of so strong a passion made
+her woman's nature vibrate.  A dewy tear hung on the fringes of her
+long lashes, and she leaned back in her chair and fluttered awhile.
+
+That emotion, almost new to her, soon yielded, in her girlish mind,
+to a complacent languor; and that, in its turn, to a soft reverie.
+So she was going to be married!  To be mistress of a house; settle
+in London (THAT she had quite determined long ago); be able to go
+out into the streets all alone, to shop, or visit; have a gentleman
+all her own, whom she could put her finger on any moment and make
+him take her about, even to the opera and the theatre; to give
+dinner-parties her own self, and even a little ball once in a way;
+to buy whatever dresses she thought proper, instead of being
+crippled by an allowance; have the legal right of speaking first in
+society, even to gentlemen rich in ideas but bad starters, instead
+of sitting mumchance and mock-modest; to be Mistress, instead of
+Miss--contemptible title; to be a woman, instead of a girl; and all
+this rational liberty, domestic power, and social dignity were to
+be obtained by merely wedding a dear fellow, who loved her, and was
+so nice; and the bright career to be ushered in with several
+delights, each of them dear to a girl's very soul: presents from
+all her friends; as many beautiful new dresses as if she was
+changing her body or her hemisphere, instead of her name; eclat;
+going to church, which is a good English girl's theatre of display
+and temple of vanity, and there tasting delightful publicity and
+whispered admiration, in a heavenly long veil, which she could not
+wear even once if she remained single.
+
+This bright variegated picture of holy wedlock, and its essential
+features, as revealed to young ladies by feminine tradition, though
+not enumerated in the Book of Common Prayer writ by grim males, so
+entranced her, that time flew by unheeded, and Christopher Staines
+came back from her father.  His step was heavy; he looked pale, and
+deeply distressed; then stood like a statue, and did not come close
+to her, but cast a piteous look, and gasped out one word, that
+seemed almost to choke him,--"REFUSED!"
+
+Miss Lusignan rose from her chair, and looked almost wildly at him
+with her great eyes.  "Refused?" said she, faintly.
+
+"Yes," said he, sadly.  "Your father is a man of business; and he
+took a mere business view of our love: he asked me directly what
+provision I could make for his daughter and her children.  Well, I
+told him I had three thousand pounds in the Funds, and a good
+profession; and then I said I had youth, health, and love,
+boundless love, the love that can do, or suffer, the love that can
+conquer the world."
+
+"Dear Christopher!  And what COULD he say to all that?"
+
+"He ignored it entirely.  There!  I'll give you his very words.  He
+said, 'In that case, Dr. Staines, the simple question is, what does
+your profession bring you in per annum?'"
+
+"Oh!  There!  I always hated arithmetic, and now I abominate it."
+
+"Then I was obliged to confess I had scarcely received a hundred
+pounds in fees this year; but I told him the reason; this is such a
+small district, and all the ground occupied.  London, I said, was
+my sphere."
+
+"And so it is," said Rosa, eagerly; for this jumped with her own
+little designs.  "Genius is wasted in the country.  Besides,
+whenever anybody worth curing is ill down here, they always send to
+London for a doctor."
+
+"I told him so, dearest," said the lover.  "But he answered me
+directly, then I must set up in London, and as soon as my books
+showed an income to keep a wife, and servants, and children, and
+insure my life for five thousand pounds"--
+
+"Oh, that is so like papa.  He is director of an insurance company,
+so all the world must insure their lives."
+
+"No, dear, he was quite right there: professional incomes are most
+precarious.  Death spares neither young nor old, neither warm
+hearts nor cold.  I should be no true physician if I could not see
+my own mortality."  He hung his head and pondered a moment, then
+went on, sadly, "It all comes to this--until I have a professional
+income of eight hundred a year at least, he will not hear of our
+marrying; and the cruel thing is, he will not even consent to an
+engagement.  But," said the rejected, with a look of sad anxiety,
+"you will wait for me without that, dear Rosa?"
+
+She could give him that comfort, and she gave it him with loving
+earnestness.  "Of course I will; and it shall not be very long.
+Whilst you are making your fortune, to please papa, I will keep
+fretting, and pouting, and crying, till he sends for you."
+
+"Bless you, dearest!  Stop!--not to make yourself ill! not for all
+the world."  The lover and the physician spoke in turn.
+
+He came, all gratitude, to her side, and they sat, hand in hand,
+comforting each other: indeed, parting was such sweet sorrow that
+they sat, handed, and very close to one another, till Mr. Lusignan,
+who thought five minutes quite enough for rational beings to take
+leave in, walked into the room and surprised them.  At sight of his
+gray head and iron-gray eyebrows, Christopher Staines started up
+and looked confused; he thought some apology necessary, so he
+faltered out, "Forgive me, sir; it is a bitter parting to me, you
+may be sure."
+
+Rosa's bosom heaved at these simple words.  She flew to her father,
+and cried, "Oh, papa! papa! you were never cruel before;" and hid
+her burning face on his shoulder; and then burst out crying, partly
+for Christopher, partly because she was now ashamed of herself for
+having taken a young man's part so openly.
+
+Mr. Lusignan looked sadly discomposed at this outburst: she had
+taken him by his weak point; he told her so.  "Now, Rosa," said he,
+rather peevishly, "you know I hate--noise."
+
+Rosa had actually forgotten that trait for a single moment; but,
+being reminded of it, she reduced her sobs in the prettiest way,
+not to offend a tender parent who could not bear noise.  Under this
+homely term, you must know, he included all scenes, disturbances,
+rumpuses, passions; and expected all men, women, and things in Kent
+Villa to go smoothly--or go elsewhere.
+
+"Come, young people," said he, "don't make a disturbance.  Where's
+the grievance?  Have I said he shall never marry you?  Have I
+forbidden him to correspond? or even to call, say twice a year.
+All I say is, no marriage, nor contract of marriage, until there is
+an income."  Then he turned to Christopher.  "Now if you can't make
+an income without her, how could you make one with her, weighed
+down by the load of expenses a wife entails?  I know her better
+than you do; she is a good girl, but rather luxurious and self-
+indulgent.  She is not cut out for a poor man's wife.  And pray
+don't go and fancy that nobody loves my child but you.  Mine is not
+so hot as yours, of course; but believe me, sir, it is less
+selfish.  You would expose her to poverty and misery; but I say no;
+it is my duty to protect her from all chance of them; and, in doing
+it, I am as much your friend as hers, if you could but see it.
+Come, Dr. Staines, be a man, and see the world as it is.  I have
+told you how to earn my daughter's hand and my esteem: you must
+gain both, or neither."
+
+Dr. Staines was never quite deaf to reason: he now put his hand to
+his brow and said, with a sort of wonder and pitiful dismay, "My
+love for Rosa selfish!  Sir, your words are bitter and hard."
+Then, after a struggle, and with rare and touching candor, "Ay, but
+so are bark and steel; yet they are good medicines."  Then with a
+great glow in his heart and tears in his eyes, "My darling shall
+not be a poor man's wife, she who would adorn a coronet, ay, or a
+crown.  Good-by, Rosa, for the present."  He darted to her, and
+kissed her hand with all his soul.  "Oh, the sacrifice of leaving
+you," he faltered; "the very world is dark to me without you.  Ah,
+well, I must earn the right to come again."  He summoned all his
+manhood, and marched to the door.  There he seemed to turn calmer
+all of a sudden, and said firmly, yet humbly, "I'll try and show
+you, sir, what love can do."
+
+"And I'll show you what love can suffer," said Rosa, folding her
+beautiful arms superbly.
+
+It was not in her to have shot such a bolt, except in imitation;
+yet how promptly the mimic thunder came, and how grand the beauty
+looked, with her dark brows, and flashing eyes, and folded arms!
+much grander and more inspired than poor Staines, who had only
+furnished the idea.
+
+But between these two figures swelling with emotion, the
+representative of common sense, Lusignan pere, stood cool and
+impassive; he shrugged his shoulders, and looked on both lovers as
+a couple of ranting novices he was saving from each other and
+almshouses.
+
+For all that, when the lover had torn himself away, papa's
+composure was suddenly disturbed by a misgiving.  He stepped
+hastily to the stairhead, and gave it vent.  "Dr. Staines," said
+he, in a loud whisper (Staines was half way down the stairs: he
+stopped).  "I trust to you as a gentleman, not to mention this; it
+will never transpire here.  Whatever we do--no noise!"
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Rosa Lusignan set herself pining as she had promised; and she did
+it discreetly for so young a person.  She was never peevish, but
+always sad and listless.  By this means she did not anger her
+parent, but only made him feel she was unhappy, and the house she
+had hitherto brightened exceeding dismal.
+
+By degrees this noiseless melancholy undermined the old gentleman,
+and he well-nigh tottered.
+
+But one day, calling suddenly on a neighbor with six daughters, he
+heard peals of laughter, and found Rosa taking her full share of
+the senseless mirth.  She pulled up short at sight of him, and
+colored high; but it was too late, for he launched a knowing look
+at her on the spot, and muttered something about seven foolish
+virgins.
+
+He took the first opportunity, when they were alone, and told her
+he was glad to find she was only dismal at home.
+
+But Rosa had prepared for him.  "One can be loud without being gay
+at heart," said she, with a lofty, languid air.  "I have not
+forgotten your last words to HIM.  We were to hide our broken
+hearts from the world.  I try to obey you, dear papa; but, if I had
+my way, I would never go into the world at all.  I have but one
+desire now--to end my days in a convent."
+
+"Please begin them first.  A convent!  Why, you'd turn it out of
+window.  You are no more fit to be a nun than--a pauper."
+
+Not having foreseen this facer, Rosa had nothing ready; so she
+received it with a sad, submissive, helpless sigh, as who would
+say, "Hit me, papa: I have no friend now."  So then he was sorry he
+had been so clever; and, indeed, there is one provoking thing about
+"a woman's weakness"--it is invincible.
+
+The next minute, what should come but a long letter from Dr.
+Staines, detailing his endeavors to purchase a practice in London,
+and his ill-success.  The letter spoke the language of love and
+hope; but the facts were discouraging; and, indeed, a touching
+sadness pierced through the veil of the brave words.
+
+Rosa read it again and again, and cried over it before her father,
+to encourage him in his heartless behavior.
+
+About ten days after this, something occurred that altered her mood.
+
+She became grave and thoughtful, but no longer lugubrious.  She
+seemed desirous to atone to her father for having disturbed his
+cheerfulness.  She smiled affectionately on him, and often sat on a
+stool at his knee, and glided her hand into his.
+
+He was not a little pleased, and said to himself, "She is coming
+round to common-sense."
+
+Now, on the contrary, she was farther from it than ever.
+
+At last he got the clew.  One afternoon he met Mr. Wyman coming out
+of the villa.  Mr. Wyman was the consulting surgeon of that part.
+
+"What! anybody ill?" said Mr. Lusignan.  "One of the servants?"
+
+"No; it is Miss Lusignan."
+
+"Why, what is the matter with her?"
+
+Wyman hesitated.  "Oh, nothing very alarming.  Would you mind
+asking her?"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"The fact is, she requested me not to tell you: made me promise."
+
+"And I insist upon your telling me."
+
+"And I think you are quite right, sir, as her father.  Well, she is
+troubled with a little spitting of blood."
+
+Mr. Lusignan turned pale.  "My child! spitting of blood!  God
+forbid!"
+
+"Oh, do not alarm yourself.  It is nothing serious."
+
+"Don't tell me!" said the father.  "It is always serious.  And she
+kept this from me!"
+
+Masking his agitation for the time, he inquired how often it had
+occurred, this grave symptom.
+
+"Three or four times this last month.  But I may as well tell you
+at once: I have examined her carefully, and I do not think it is
+from the lungs."
+
+"From the throat, then?"
+
+"No; from the liver.  Everything points to that organ as the seat
+of derangement: not that there is any lesion; only a tendency to
+congestion.  I am treating her accordingly, and have no doubt of
+the result."
+
+"Who is the ablest physician hereabouts?" asked Lusignan, abruptly.
+
+"Dr. Snell, I think."
+
+"Give me his address."
+
+"I'll write to him, if you like, and appoint a consultation."  He
+added, with vast but rather sudden alacrity, "It will be a great
+satisfaction to my own mind."
+
+"Then send to him, if you please, and let him be here to-morrow
+morning; if not, I shall take her to London for advice at once."
+
+On this understanding they parted, and Lusignan went at once to his
+daughter.  "O my child!" said he, deeply distressed, "how could you
+hide this from me?"
+
+"Hide what, papa?" said the girl, looking the picture of
+unconsciousness.
+
+"That you have been spitting blood."
+
+"Who told you that?" said she, sharply.
+
+"Wyman.  He is attending you."
+
+Rosa colored with anger.  "Chatterbox!  He promised me faithfully
+not to."
+
+"But why, in Heaven's name?  What! would you trust this terrible
+thing to a stranger, and hide it from your poor father?"
+
+"Yes," replied Rosa, quietly.
+
+The old man would not scold her now; he only said, sadly, "I see
+how it is: because I will not let you marry poverty, you think I do
+not love you."  And he sighed.
+
+"O papa! the idea!" said Rosa.  "Of course, I know you love me.  It
+was not that, you dear, darling, foolish papa.  There! if you must
+know, it was because I did not want you to be distressed.  I
+thought I might get better with a little physic; and, if not, why,
+then I thought, 'Papa is an old man; la! I dare say I shall last
+his time;' and so, why should I poison your latter days with
+worrying about ME?"
+
+Mr. Lusignan stared at her, and his lip quivered; but he thought
+the trait hardly consistent with her superficial character.  He
+could not help saying, half sadly, half bitterly, "Well, but of
+course you have told Dr. Staines."
+
+Rosa opened her beautiful eyes, like two suns.  "Of course I have
+done nothing of the sort.  He has enough to trouble him, without
+that.  Poor fellow! there he is, worrying and striving to make his
+fortune, and gain your esteem--'they go together,' you know; you
+told him so."  (Young cats will scratch when least expected.)  "And
+for me to go and tell him I am in danger!  Why, he would go wild.
+He would think of nothing but me and my health.  He would never
+make his fortune: and so then, even when I am gone, he will never
+get a wife, because he has only got genius and goodness and three
+thousand pounds.  No, papa, I have not told poor Christopher.  I
+may tease those I love.  I have been teasing YOU this ever so long;
+but frighten them, and make them miserable?  No!"
+
+And here, thinking of the anguish that was perhaps in store for
+those she loved, she wanted to cry; it almost choked her not to.
+But she fought it bravely down: she reserved her tears for lighter
+occasions and less noble sentiments.
+
+Her father held out his arms to her.  She ran her footstool to him,
+and sat nestling to his heart.
+
+"Please forgive me my misconduct.  I have not been a dutiful
+daughter ever since you--but now I will.  Kiss me, my own papa!
+There!  Now we are as we always were."
+
+Then she purred to him on every possible topic but the one that now
+filled his parental heart, and bade him good-night at last with a
+cheerful smile.
+
+Wyman was exact, and ten minutes afterwards Dr. Snell drove up in a
+carriage and pair.  He was intercepted in the hall by Wyman, and,
+after a few minutes' conversation, presented to Mr. Lusignan.
+
+The father gave vent to his paternal anxiety in a few simple but
+touching words, and was proceeding to state the symptoms as he had
+gathered them from his daughter; but Dr. Snell interrupted him
+politely, and said he had heard the principal symptoms from Mr.
+Wyman.  Then, turning to the latter, he said, "We had better
+proceed to examine the patient."
+
+"Certainly," said Mr. Lusignan.  "She is in the drawing-room;" and
+he led the way, and was about to enter the room, when Wyman
+informed him it was against etiquette for him to be present at the
+examination.
+
+"Oh, very well!" said he.  "Yes, I see the propriety of that.  But
+oblige me by asking her if she has anything on her mind."
+
+Dr. Snell bowed a lofty assent; for, to receive a hint from a
+layman was to confer a favor on him.
+
+The men of science were closeted full half an hour with the
+patient.  She was too beautiful to be slurred over, even by a busy
+doctor: he felt her pulse, looked at her tongue, and listened
+attentively to her lungs, to her heart, and to the organ suspected
+by Wyman.  He left her at last with a kindly assurance that the
+case was perfectly curable.
+
+At the door they were met by the anxious father, who came with
+throbbing heart, and asked the doctors' verdict.
+
+He was coolly informed that could not be given until the
+consultation had taken place; the result of that consultation would
+be conveyed to him.
+
+"And pray, why can't I be present at the consultation?  The grounds
+on which two able men agree or disagree must be well worth
+listening to."
+
+"No doubt," said Dr. Snell; "but," with a superior smile, "my dear
+sir, it is not the etiquette."
+
+"Oh, very well," said Lusignan.  But he muttered, "So, then, a
+father is nobody!"
+
+And this unreasonable person retired to his study, miserable, and
+gave up the dining-room to the consultation.
+
+They soon rejoined him.
+
+Dr. Snell's opinion was communicated by Wyman.  "I am happy to tell
+you that Dr. Snell agrees with me, entirely: the lungs are not
+affected, and the liver is congested, but not diseased."
+
+"Is that so, Dr. Snell?" asked Lusignan, anxiously.
+
+"It is so, sir."  He added, "The treatment has been submitted to
+me, and I quite approve it."
+
+He then asked for a pen and paper, and wrote a prescription.  He
+assured Mr. Lusignan that the case had no extraordinary feature,
+whatever; he was not to alarm himself.  Dr. Snell then drove away,
+leaving the parent rather puzzled, but, on the whole, much
+comforted.
+
+And here I must reveal an extraordinary circumstance.
+
+Wyman's treatment was by drugs.
+
+Dr. Snell's was by drugs.
+
+Dr. Snell, as you have seen, entirely approved Wyman's treatment.
+
+His own had nothing in common with it.  The Arctic and Antarctic
+poles are not farther apart than was his prescription from the
+prescription he thoroughly approved.
+
+Amiable science!  In which complete diversity of practice did not
+interfere with perfect uniformity of opinion.
+
+All this was kept from Dr. Staines, and he was entirely occupied in
+trying to get a position that might lead to fortune, and satisfy
+Mr. Lusignan.  He called on every friend he had, to inquire where
+there was an opening.  He walked miles and miles in the best
+quarters of London, looking for an opening; he let it be known in
+many quarters that he would give a good premium to any physician
+who was about to retire, and would introduce him to his patients.
+
+No: he could hear of nothing.
+
+Then, after a great struggle with himself, he called upon his
+uncle, Philip Staines, a retired M.D., to see if he would do
+anything for him.  He left this to the last, for a very good
+reason: Dr. Philip was an irritable old bachelor, who had assisted
+most of his married relatives; but, finding no bottom to the well,
+had turned rusty and crusty, and now was apt to administer kicks
+instead of checks to all who were near and dear to him.  However,
+Christopher was the old gentleman's favorite, and was now
+desperate; so he mustered courage, and went.  He was graciously
+received--warmly, indeed.  This gave him great hopes, and he told
+his tale.
+
+The old bachelor sided with Mr. Lusignan.  "What!" said he, "do you
+want to marry, and propagate pauperism?  I thought you had more
+sense.  Confound it all I had just one nephew whose knock at my
+street-door did not make me tremble; he was a bachelor and a
+thinker, and came for a friendly chat; the rest are married men,
+highwaymen, who come to say, 'Stand and deliver;' and now even you
+want to join the giddy throng.  Well, don't ask me to have any hand
+in it.  You are a man of promise; and you might as well hang a
+millstone round your neck as a wife.  Marriage is a greater mistake
+than ever now; the women dress more and manage worse.  I met your
+cousin Jack the other day, and his wife with seventy pounds on her
+back; and next door to paupers.  No; whilst you are a bachelor,
+like me, you are my favorite, and down in my will for a lump.  Once
+marry, and you join the noble army of foot-pads, leeches, vultures,
+paupers, gone coons, and babblers about brats--and I disown you."
+
+There was no hope from old Crusty.  Christopher left him, snubbed
+and heart-sick.  At last he met a sensible man, who made him see
+there was no short cut in that profession.  He must be content to
+play the up-hill game; must settle in some good neighborhood;
+marry, if possible, since husbands and fathers of families prefer
+married physicians; and so be poor at thirty, comfortable at forty,
+and rich at fifty--perhaps.
+
+Then Christopher came down to his lodgings at Gravesend, and was
+very unhappy; and after some days of misery, he wrote a letter to
+Rosa in a moment of impatience, despondency, and passion.
+
+Rosa Lusignan got worse and worse.  The slight but frequent
+hemorrhage was a drain upon her system, and weakened her visibly.
+She began to lose her rich complexion, and sometimes looked almost
+sallow; and a slight circle showed itself under her eyes.  These
+symptoms were unfavorable; nevertheless, Dr. Snell and Mr. Wyman
+accepted them cheerfully, as fresh indications that nothing was
+affected but the liver; they multiplied and varied their
+prescriptions; the malady ignored those prescriptions, and went
+steadily on.  Mr. Lusignan was terrified but helpless.  Rosa
+resigned and reticent.
+
+But it was not in human nature that a girl of this age could always
+and at all hours be mistress of herself.  One evening in particular
+she stood before the glass in the drawing-room, and looked at
+herself a long time with horror.  "Is that Rosa Lusignan?" said
+she, aloud; "it is her ghost."
+
+A deep groan startled her.  She turned; it was her father.  She
+thought he was fast asleep; and so indeed he had been; but he was
+just awaking, and heard his daughter utter her real mind.  It was a
+thunder-clap.  "Oh, my child! what shall I do?" he cried.
+
+Then Rosa was taken by surprise in her turn.  She spoke out.  "Send
+for a great physician, papa.  Don't let us deceive ourselves; it is
+our only chance."
+
+"I will ask Mr. Wyman to get a physician down from London."
+
+"No, no; that is no use; they will put their heads together, and he
+will say whatever Mr. Wyman tells him.  La! papa, a clever man like
+you, not to see what a cheat that consultation was.  Why, from what
+you told me, one can see it was managed so that Dr. Snell could not
+possibly have an opinion of his own.  No; no more echoes of Mr.
+Chatterbox.  If you really want to cure me, send for Christopher
+Staines."
+
+"Dr. Staines! he is very young."
+
+"But he is very clever, and he is not an echo.  He won't care how
+many doctors he contradicts when I am in danger.  Papa, it is your
+child's one chance."
+
+"I'll try it," said the old man, eagerly.  "How confident you look!
+your color has come back.  It is an inspiration.  Where is he?"
+
+"I think by this time he must be at his lodgings in Gravesend.
+Send to him to-morrow morning."
+
+"Not I!  I'll go to him to-night.  It is only a mile, and a fine
+clear night."
+
+"My own, good, kind papa!  Ah! well, come what may, I have lived
+long enough to be loved.  Yes, dear papa, save me.  I am very young
+to die; and he loves me so dearly."
+
+The old man bustled away to put on something warmer for his night
+walk, and Rosa leaned back, and the tears welled out of her eyes,
+now he was gone.
+
+Before she had recovered her composure, a letter was brought her,
+and this was the letter from Christopher Staines, alluded to
+already.
+
+She took it from the servant with averted head, not wishing it to
+be seen she had been crying, and she started at the handwriting; it
+seemed such a coincidence that it should come just as she was
+sending for him.
+
+
+MY OWN BELOVED ROSA,--I now write to tell you, with a heavy heart,
+that all is vain.  I cannot make, nor purchase, a connection,
+except as others do, by time and patience.  Being a bachelor is
+quite against a young physician.  If I had a wife, and such a wife
+as you, I should be sure to get on; you would increase my
+connection very soon.  What, then, lies before us?  I see but two
+things--to wait till we are old, and our pockets are filled, but
+our hearts chilled or soured; or else to marry at once, and climb
+the hill together.  If you love me as I love you, you will be
+saving till the battle is over; and I feel I could find energy and
+fortitude for both.  Your father, who thinks so much of wealth, can
+surely settle something on YOU; and I am not too poor to furnish a
+house and start fair.  I am not quite obscure--my lectures have
+given me a name--and to you, my own love, I hope I may say that I
+know more than many of my elders, thanks to good schools, good
+method, a genuine love of my noble profession, and a tendency to
+study from my childhood.  Will you not risk something on my
+ability?  If not, God help me, for I shall lose you; and what is
+life, or fame, or wealth, or any mortal thing to me, without you?
+I cannot accept your father's decision; YOU must decide my fate.
+
+You see I have kept away from you until I can do so no more.  All
+this time the world to me has seemed to want the sun, and my heart
+pines and sickens for one sight of you.
+
+Darling Rosa, pray let me look at your face once more.
+
+When this reaches you I shall be at your gate.  Let me see you,
+though but for a moment, and let me hear my fate from no lips but
+yours.--My own love, your heart-broken lover,
+
+CHRISTOPHER STAINES.
+
+
+This letter stunned her at first.  Her mind of late had been turned
+away from love to such stern realities.  Now she began to be sorry
+she had not told him.  "Poor thing!" she said to herself, "he
+little knows that now all is changed.  Papa, I sometimes think,
+would deny me nothing now; it is I who would not marry him--to be
+buried by him in a month or two.  Poor Christopher!"
+
+The next moment she started up in dismay.  Why, her father would
+miss him.  No; perhaps catch him waiting for her.  What would he
+think?  What would Christopher think?--that she had shown her papa
+his letter.
+
+She rang the bell hard.  The footman came.
+
+"Send Harriet to me this instant.  Oh, and ask papa to come to me."
+
+Then she sat down and dashed off a line to Christopher.  This was
+for Harriet to take out to him.  Anything better than for
+Christopher to be caught doing what was wrong.
+
+The footman came back first.  "If you please, miss, master has gone
+out."
+
+"Run after him--the road to Gravesend."
+
+"Yes, miss."
+
+"No.  It is no use.  Never mind."
+
+"Yes, miss."
+
+Then Harriet came in.  "Did you want me, miss?"
+
+"Yes.  No--never mind now."
+
+She was afraid to do anything for fear of making matters worse.
+She went to the window, and stood looking anxiously out, with her
+hands working.  Presently she uttered a little scream and shrank
+away to the sofa.  She sank down on it, half sitting, half lying,
+hid her face in her hands, and waited.
+
+
+Staines, with a lover's impatience, had been more than an hour at
+the gate, or walking up and down close by it, his heart now burning
+with hope, now freezing with fear, that she would decline a meeting
+on these terms.
+
+At last the postman came, and then he saw he was too soon; but now
+in a few minutes Rosa would have his letter, and then he should
+soon know whether she would come or not.  He looked up at the
+drawing-room windows.  They were full of light.  She was there in
+all probability.  Yet she did not come to them.  But why should
+she, if she was coming out?
+
+He walked up and down the road.  She did not come.  His heart began
+to sicken with doubt.  His head drooped; and perhaps it was owing
+to this that he almost ran against a gentleman who was coming the
+other way.  The moon shone bright on both faces.
+
+"Dr. Staines!" said Mr. Lusignan surprised.  Christopher uttered an
+ejaculation more eloquent than words.
+
+They stared at each other.
+
+"You were coming to call on us?"
+
+"N--no," stammered Christopher.
+
+Lusignan thought that odd; however, he said politely, "No matter,
+it is fortunate.  Would you mind coming in?"
+
+"No," faltered Christopher, and stared at him ruefully, puzzled
+more and more, but beginning to think, after all, it might be a
+casual meeting.
+
+They entered the gate, and in one moment he saw Rosa at the window,
+and she saw him.
+
+Then he altered his opinion again.  Rosa had sent her father out to
+him.  But how was this?  The old man did not seem angry.
+Christopher's heart gave a leap inside him, and he began to glow
+with the wildest hopes.  For, what could this mean but relenting?
+
+Mr. Lusignan took him first into the study, and lighted two candles
+himself.  He did not want the servants prying.
+
+The lights showed Christopher a change in Mr. Lusignan.  He looked
+ten years older.
+
+"You are not well, sir," said Christopher gently.
+
+"My health is well enough, but I am a broken-hearted man.  Dr.
+Staines, forget all that passed here at your last visit.  All that
+is over.  Thank you for loving my poor girl as you do; give me your
+hand; God bless you.  Sir, I am sorry to say it is as a physician I
+invite you now.  She is ill, sir, very, very ill."
+
+"Ill! and not tell me!"
+
+"She kept it from you, my poor friend, not to distress you; and she
+tried to keep it from me, but how could she?  For two months she
+has had some terrible complaint--it is destroying her.  She is the
+ghost of herself.  Oh, my poor child! my child!"
+
+The old man sobbed aloud.  The young man stood trembling, and ashy
+pale.  Still, the habits of his profession, and the experience of
+dangers overcome, together with a certain sense of power, kept him
+up; but, above all, love and duty said, "Be firm."  He asked for an
+outline of the symptoms.
+
+They alarmed him greatly.
+
+"Let us lose no more time," said he.  "I will see her at once."
+
+"Do you object to my being present?"
+
+"Of course not."
+
+"Shall I tell you what Dr. Snell says it is, and Mr. Wyman?"
+
+"By all means--after I have seen her."
+
+This comforted Mr. Lusignan.  He was to get an independent
+judgment, at all events.
+
+When they reached the top of the stairs, Dr. Staines paused and
+leaned against the baluster.  "Give me a moment," said he.  "The
+patient must not know how my heart is beating, and she must see
+nothing in my face but what I choose her to see.  Give me your hand
+once more, sir; let us both control ourselves.  Now announce me."
+
+Mr. Lusignan opened the door, and said, with forced cheerfulness,
+"Dr. Staines, my dear, come to give you the benefit of his skill."
+
+She lay on the sofa, just as we left her.  Only her bosom began to
+heave.
+
+Then Christopher Staines drew himself up, and the majesty of
+knowledge and love together seemed to dilate his noble frame.  He
+fixed his eye on that reclining, panting figure, and stepped
+lightly but firmly across the room to know the worst, like a lion
+walking up to levelled lances.
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+The young physician walked steadily up to his patient without
+taking his eye off her, and drew a chair to her side.
+
+Then she took down one hand--the left--and gave it him, averting
+her face tenderly, and still covering it with her right; "For,"
+said she to herself, "I am such a fright now."  This opportune
+reflection, and her heaving bosom, proved that she at least felt
+herself something more than his patient.  Her pretty consciousness
+made his task more difficult; nevertheless, he only allowed himself
+to press her hand tenderly with both his palms one moment, and then
+he entered on his functions bravely.  "I am here as your
+physician."
+
+"Very well," said she softly.
+
+He gently detained the hand, and put his finger lightly to her
+pulse; it was palpitating, and a fallacious test.  Oh, how that
+beating pulse, by love's electric current, set his own heart
+throbbing in a moment!
+
+He put her hand gently, reluctantly down, and said, "Oblige me by
+turning this way."  She turned, and he winced internally at the
+change in her; but his face betrayed nothing.  He looked at her
+full; and, after a pause, put her some questions: one was as to the
+color of the hemorrhage.  She said it was bright red.
+
+"Not a tinge of purple?"
+
+"No," said she hopefully, mistaking him.
+
+He suppressed a sigh.
+
+Then he listened at her shoulder-blade and at her chest, and made
+her draw her breath while he was listening.  The acts were simple,
+and usual in medicine, but there was a deep, patient, silent
+intensity about his way of doing them.
+
+Mr. Lusignan crept nearer, and stood with both hands on a table,
+and his old head bowed, awaiting yet dreading the verdict.
+
+Up to this time, Dr. Staines, instead of tapping and squeezing, and
+pulling the patient about, had never touched her with his hand, and
+only grazed her with his ear; but now he said "Allow me," and put
+both hands to her waist, more lightly and reverently than I can
+describe; "Now draw a deep breath, if you please."
+
+"There!"
+
+"If you could draw a deeper still," said he, insinuatingly.
+
+"There, then!" said she, a little pettishly.
+
+Dr. Staines's eye kindled.
+
+"Hum!" said he.  Then, after a considerable pause, "Are you better
+or worse after each hemorrhage?"
+
+"La!" said Rosa; "they never asked me that.  Why, better."
+
+"No faintness?"
+
+"Not a bit."
+
+"Rather a sense of relief, perhaps?"
+
+"Yes; I feel lighter and better."
+
+The examination was concluded.
+
+Dr. Staines looked at Rosa, and then at her father.  The agony in
+that aged face, and the love that agony implied, won him, and it
+was to the parent he turned to give his verdict.
+
+"The hemorrhage is from the lungs"--
+
+Lusignan interrupted him: "From the lungs!" cried he, in dismay.
+
+"Yes; a slight congestion of the lungs."
+
+"But not incurable!  Oh, not incurable, doctor!"
+
+"Heaven forbid!  It is curable--easily--by removing the cause."
+
+"And what is the cause?"
+
+"The cause?"--he hesitated, and looked rather uneasy.--"Well, the
+cause, sir, is--tight stays."
+
+The tranquillity of the meeting was instantly disturbed.  "Tight
+stays!  Me!" cried Rosa.  "Why, I am the loosest girl in England.
+Look, papa!"  And, without any apparent effort, she drew herself
+in, and poked her little fist between her sash and her gown.
+"There!"
+
+Dr. Staines smiled sadly and a little sarcastically: he was
+evidently shy of encountering the lady in this argument; but he was
+more at his ease with her father; so he turned towards him and
+lectured him freely.
+
+"That is wonderful, sir; and the first four or five female patients
+that favored me with it, made me disbelieve my other senses; but
+Miss Lusignan is now about the thirtieth who has shown me that
+marvellous feat, with a calm countenance that belies the herculean
+effort.  Nature has her every-day miracles: a boa-constrictor,
+diameter seventeen inches, can swallow a buffalo; a woman, with her
+stays bisecting her almost, and lacerating her skin, can yet for
+one moment make herself seem slack, to deceive a juvenile
+physician.  The snake is the miracle of expansion; the woman is the
+prodigy of contraction."
+
+"Highly grateful for the comparison!" cried Rosa.  "Women and
+snakes!"
+
+Dr. Staines blushed and looked uncomfortable.  "I did not mean to
+be offensive; it certainly was a very clumsy comparison."
+
+"What does that matter?" said Mr. Lusignan, impatiently.  "Be
+quiet, Rosa, and let Dr. Staines and me talk sense."
+
+"Oh, then I am nobody in the business!" said this wise young lady.
+
+"You are everybody," said Staines, soothingly.  "But," suggested
+he, obsequiously, "if you don't mind, I would rather explain my
+views to your father--on this one subject."
+
+"And a pretty subject it is!"
+
+Dr. Staines then invited Mr. Lusignan to his lodgings, and promised
+to explain the matter anatomically.  "Meantime," said he, "would
+you be good enough to put your hands to my waist, as I did to the
+patient's."
+
+Mr. Lusignan complied; and the patient began to titter directly, to
+put them out of countenance.
+
+"Please observe what takes place when I draw a full breath.
+
+"Now apply the same test to the patient.  Breathe your best,
+please, Miss Lusignan."
+
+The patient put on a face full of saucy mutiny.
+
+"To oblige us both."
+
+"Oh, how tiresome!"
+
+"I am aware it is rather laborious," said Staines, a little dryly;
+"but to oblige your father!"
+
+"Oh, anything to oblige papa," said she, spitefully.  "There!  And
+I do hope it will be the last--la! no; I don't hope that, neither."
+
+Dr. Staines politely ignored her little attempts to interrupt the
+argument.  "You found, sir, that the muscles of my waist, and my
+intercostal ribs themselves, rose and fell with each inhalation and
+exhalation of air by the lungs."
+
+"I did; but my daughter's waist was like dead wood, and so were her
+lower ribs."
+
+At this volunteer statement, Rosa colored to her temples.  "Thanks,
+papa!  Pack me off to London, and sell me for a big doll!"
+
+"In other words," said the lecturer, mild and pertinacious, "with
+us the lungs have room to blow, and the whole bony frame expands
+elastic with them, like the woodwork of a blacksmith's bellows; but
+with this patient, and many of her sex, that noble and divinely
+framed bellows is crippled and confined by a powerful machine of
+human construction; so it works lamely and feebly: consequently too
+little air, and of course too little oxygen, passes through that
+spongy organ whose very life is air.  Now mark the special result
+in this case: being otherwise healthy and vigorous, our patient's
+system sends into the lungs more blood than that one crippled organ
+can deal with; a small quantity becomes extravasated at odd times;
+it accumulates, and would become dangerous; then Nature,
+strengthened by sleep, and by some hours' relief from the
+diabolical engine, makes an effort and flings it off: that is why
+the hemorrhage comes in the morning, and why she is the better for
+it, feeling neither faint nor sick, but relieved of a weight.
+This, sir, is the rationale of the complaint; and it is to you I
+must look for the cure.  To judge from my other female patients,
+and from the few words Miss Lusignan has let fall, I fear we must
+not count on any very hearty co-operation from her: but you are her
+father, and have great authority; I conjure you to use it to the
+full, as you once used it--to my sorrow--in this very room.  I am
+forgetting my character.  I was asked here only as her physician.
+Good-evening."
+
+He gave a little gulp, and hurried away, with an abruptness that
+touched the father and offended the sapient daughter.
+
+However, Mr. Lusignan followed him, and stopped him before he left
+the house, and thanked him warmly; and to his surprise, begged him
+to call again in a day or two.
+
+"Well, Rosa, what do you say?"
+
+"I say that I am very unfortunate in my doctors.  Mr. Wyman is a
+chatterbox and knows nothing.  Dr. Snell is Mr. Wyman's echo.
+Christopher is a genius, and they are always full of crotchets.  A
+pretty doctor!  Gone away, and not prescribed for me!"
+
+Mr. Lusignan admitted it was odd.  "But, after all," said he, "if
+medicine does you no good?"
+
+"Ah! but any medicine HE had prescribed would have done me good,
+and that makes it all the unkinder."
+
+"If you think so highly of his skill, why not take his advice?  It
+can do no harm."
+
+"No harm?  Why, if I was to leave them off I should catch a
+dreadful cold; and that would be sure to settle on my chest, and
+carry me off, in my present delicate state.  Besides, it is so
+unfeminine not to wear them."
+
+This staggered Mr. Lusignan, and he was afraid to press the point;
+but what Staines had said fermented in his mind.
+
+Dr. Snell and Mr. Wyman continued their visits and their
+prescriptions.
+
+The patient got a little worse.
+
+Mr. Lusignan hoped Christopher would call again, but he did not.
+
+When Dr. Staines had satisfied himself that the disorder was easily
+curable, then wounded pride found an entrance even into his loving
+heart.  That two strangers should have been consulted before him!
+He was only sent for because they could not cure her.
+
+As he seemed in no hurry to repeat his visit, Mr. Lusignan called
+on him, and said, politely, he had hoped to receive another call
+ere this.  "Personally," said he, "I was much struck with your
+observations; but my daughter is afraid she will catch cold if she
+leaves off her corset, and that, you know, might be very serious."
+
+Dr. Staines groaned, and, when he had groaned, he lectured.
+"Female patients are wonderfully monotonous in this matter; they
+have a programme of evasions; and whether the patient is a lady or
+a housemaid, she seldom varies from that programme.  You find her
+breathing life's air with half a bellows, and you tell her so.
+'Oh, no,' says she; and does the gigantic feat of contraction we
+witnessed that evening at your house.  But, on inquiry, you learn
+there is a raw red line ploughed in her flesh by the cruel stays.
+'What is that?' you ask, and flatter yourself you have pinned her.
+Not a bit.  'That was the last pair.  I changed them, because they
+hurt me.'  Driven out of that by proofs of recent laceration, they
+say, 'If I leave them off I should catch my death of cold,' which
+is equivalent to saying there is no flannel in the shops, no common
+sense nor needles at home."
+
+He then laid before him some large French plates, showing the
+organs of the human trunk, and bade him observe in how small a
+space, and with what skill, the Creator has packed so many large
+yet delicate organs, so that they should be free and secure from
+friction, though so close to each other.  He showed him the liver,
+an organ weighing four pounds, and of large circumference; the
+lungs, a very large organ, suspended in the chest and impatient of
+pressure; the heart, the stomach, the spleen, all of them too
+closely and artfully packed to bear any further compression.
+
+Having thus taken him by the eye, he took him by the mind.
+
+"Is it a small thing for the creature to say to her Creator, 'I can
+pack all this egg-china better than you can,' and thereupon to jam
+all those vital organs close, by a powerful, a very powerful and
+ingenious machine?  Is it a small thing for that sex, which, for
+good reasons, the Omniscient has made larger in the waist than the
+male, to say to her Creator, 'You don't know your business; women
+ought to be smaller in the waist than men, and shall be throughout
+the civilized world'?"
+
+In short, he delivered so many true and pointed things on this
+trite subject, that the old gentleman was convinced, and begged him
+to come over that very evening and convince Rosa.
+
+Dr. Staines shook his head dolefully, and all his fire died out of
+him at having to face the fair.  "Reason will be wasted.  Authority
+is the only weapon.  My profession and my reading have both taught
+me that the whole character of her sex undergoes a change the
+moment a man interferes with their dress.  From Chaucer's day to
+our own, neither public satire nor private remonstrance has ever
+shaken any of their monstrous fashions.  Easy, obliging, pliable,
+and weaker of will than men in other things, do but touch their
+dress, however objectionable, and rock is not harder, iron is not
+more stubborn, than these soft and yielding creatures.  It is no
+earthly use my coming--I'll come."
+
+He came that very evening, and saw directly she was worse.  "Of
+course," said he, sadly, "you have not taken my advice."
+
+Rosa replied with a toss and an evasion, "I was not worth a
+prescription!"
+
+"A physician can prescribe without sending his patient to the
+druggist; and when he does, then it is his words are gold."
+
+Rosa shook her head with an air of lofty incredulity.
+
+He looked ruefully at Mr. Lusignan and was silent.  Rosa smiled
+sarcastically; she thought he was at his wit's end.
+
+Not quite: he was cudgelling his brains in search of some horribly
+unscientific argument, that might prevail; for he felt science
+would fall dead upon so fair an antagonist.  At last his eye
+kindled; he had hit on an argument unscientific enough for anybody,
+he thought.  Said he, ingratiatingly, "You believe the Old
+Testament?"
+
+"Of course I do, every syllable."
+
+"And the lessons it teaches?"
+
+"Certainly!"
+
+"Then let me tell you a story from that book.  A Syrian general had
+a terrible disease.  He consulted Elisha by deputy.  Elisha said,
+'Bathe seven times in a certain river, Jordan, and you will get
+well.'  The general did not like this at all; he wanted a
+prescription; wanted to go to the druggist; didn't believe in
+hydropathy to begin, and, in any case, turned up his nose at
+Jordan.  What! bathe in an Israelitish brook, when his own country
+boasted noble rivers, with a reputation for sanctity into the
+bargain?  In short, he preferred his leprosy to such irregular
+medicine.  But it happened, by some immense fortuity, that one of
+his servants, though an Oriental, was a friend, instead of a
+flatterer; and this sensible fellow said, 'If the prophet told you
+to do some great and difficult thing, to get rid of this fearful
+malady, would not you do it, however distasteful? and can you
+hesitate when he merely says, Wash in the Jordan, and be healed?'
+The general listened to good sense, and cured himself.  Your case
+is parallel.  You would take quantities of foul medicine; you would
+submit to some painful operation, if life and health depended on
+it; then why not do a small thing for a great result?  You have
+only to take off an unnatural machine which cripples your growing
+frame, and was unknown to every one of the women whose forms in
+Parian marble the world admires.  Off with that monstrosity, and
+your cure is as certain as the Syrian general's; though science,
+and not inspiration, dictates the easy remedy."
+
+Rosa had listened impatiently, and now replied with some warmth,
+"This is shockingly profane.  The idea of comparing yourself to
+Elisha, and me to a horrid leper!  Much obliged!  Not that I know
+what a leper is."
+
+"Come, come! that is not fair," said Mr. Lusignan.  "He only
+compared the situation, not the people."
+
+"But, papa, the Bible is not to be dragged into the common affairs
+of life."
+
+"Then what on earth is the use of it?"
+
+"Oh, papa!  Well, it is not Sunday, but I have had a sermon.  This
+is the clergyman, and you are the commentator--he! he!  And so now
+let us go back from divinity to medicine.  I repeat" (this was the
+first time she had said it) "that my other doctors give me real
+prescriptions, written in hieroglyphics.  You can't look at them
+without feeling there MUST be something in them."
+
+An angry spot rose on Christopher's cheek, but he only said, "And
+are your other doctors satisfied with the progress your disorder is
+making under their superintendence?"
+
+"Perfectly!  Papa, tell him what they say, and I'll find him their
+prescriptions."  She went to a drawer, and rummaged, affecting not
+to listen.
+
+Lusignan complied.  "First of all, sir, I must tell you they are
+confident it is not the lungs, but the liver."
+
+"The what!" shouted Christopher.
+
+"Ah!" screamed Rosa.  "Oh, don't!--bawling!"
+
+"And don't you screech," said her father, with a look of misery and
+apprehension impartially distributed on the resounding pair.
+
+"You must have misunderstood them," murmured Staines, in a voice
+that was now barely audible a yard off.  "The hemorrhage of a
+bright red color, and expelled without effort or nausea?"
+
+"From the liver--they have assured me again and again," said
+Lusignan.
+
+Christopher's face still wore a look of blank amazement, till Rosa
+herself confirmed it positively.
+
+Then he cast a look of agony upon her, and started up in a passion,
+forgetting once more that his host abhorred the sonorous.  "Oh,
+shame! shame!" he cried, "that the noble profession of medicine
+should be disgraced by ignorance such as this."  Then he said,
+sternly, "Sir, do not mistake my motives; but I decline to have
+anything further to do with this case, until those two gentlemen
+have been relieved of it; and, as this is very harsh, and on my
+part unprecedented, I will give you one reason out of many I COULD
+give you.  Sir, there is no road from the liver to the throat by
+which blood can travel in this way, defying the laws of gravity;
+and they knew, from the patient, that no strong expellent force has
+ever been in operation.  Their diagnosis, therefore, implies
+agnosis, or ignorance too great to be forgiven.  I will not share
+my patient with two gentlemen who know so little of medicine, and
+know nothing of anatomy, which is the A B C of medicine.  Can I see
+their prescriptions?"
+
+These were handed to him.  "Good heavens!" said he, "have you taken
+all these?"
+
+"Most of them."
+
+"Why, then you have drunk about two gallons of unwholesome liquids,
+and eaten a pound or two of unwholesome solids.  These medicines
+have co-operated with the malady.  The disorder lies, not in the
+hemorrhage, but in the precedent extravasation that is a drain on
+the system; and how is the loss to be supplied?  Why, by taking a
+little more nourishment than before; there is no other way; and
+probably Nature, left to herself, might have increased your
+appetite to meet the occasion.  But those two worthies have struck
+that weapon out of Nature's hand; they have peppered away at the
+poor ill-used stomach with drugs and draughts, not very deleterious
+I grant you, but all more or less indigestible, and all tending,
+not to whet the appetite, but to clog the stomach, or turn the
+stomach, or pester the stomach, and so impair the appetite, and so
+co-operate, indirectly, with the malady."
+
+"This is good sense," said Lusignan.  "I declare, I--I wish I knew
+how to get rid of them."
+
+"Oh, I'll do that, papa."
+
+"No, no; it is not worth a rumpus."
+
+"I'll do it too politely for that.  Christopher, you are very
+clever--TERRIBLY clever.  Whenever I threw their medicines away, I
+was always a little better that day.  I will sacrifice them to you.
+It IS a sacrifice.  They are both so kind and chatty, and don't
+grudge me hieroglyphics; now you do."
+
+She sat down and wrote two sweet letters to Dr. Snell and Mr.
+Wyman, thanking them for the great attention they had paid her; but
+finding herself getting steadily worse, in spite of all they had
+done for her, she proposed to discontinue her medicines for a time,
+and try change of air.
+
+"And suppose they call to see whether you are changing the air?"
+
+"In that case, papa--'not at home.'"
+
+The notes were addressed and despatched.
+
+Then Dr. Staines brightened up, and said to Lusignan, "I am now
+happy to tell you that I have overrated the malady.  The sad change
+I see in Miss Lusignan is partly due to the great bulk of
+unwholesome esculents she has been eating and drinking under the
+head of medicines.  These discontinued, she might linger on for
+years, existing, though not living--the tight-laced cannot be said
+to live.  But if she would be healthy and happy, let her throw that
+diabolical machine into the fire.  It is no use asking her to
+loosen it; she can't.  Once there, the temptation is too strong.
+Off with it, and, take my word, you will be one of the healthiest
+and most vigorous young ladies in Europe."
+
+Rosa looked rueful, and almost sullen.  She said she had parted
+with her doctors for him, but she really could not go about without
+stays.  "They are as loose as they can be.  See!"
+
+"That part of the programme is disposed of," said Christopher.
+"Please go on to No. 2.  How about the raw red line where the loose
+machine has sawed you?"
+
+"What red line?  No such thing!  Somebody or other has been peeping
+in at my window.  I'll have the ivy cut down to-morrow."
+
+"Simpleton!" said Mr. Lusignan, angrily.  "You have let the cat out
+of the bag.  There is such a mark, then, and this extraordinary
+young man has discerned it with the eye of science."
+
+"He never discerned it at all," said Rosa, red as fire; "and, what
+is more, he never will."
+
+"I don't want to.  I should be very sorry to.  I hope it will be
+gone in a week."
+
+"I wish YOU were gone now--exposing me in this cruel way," said
+Rosa, angry with herself for having said an idiotic thing, and
+furious with him for having made her say it.
+
+"Oh, Rosa!" said Christopher, in a voice of tenderest reproach.
+
+But Mr. Lusignan interfered promptly.  "Rosa, no noise.  I will not
+have you snapping at your best friend and mine.  If you are
+excited, you had better retire to your own room and compose
+yourself.  I hate a clamor."
+
+Rosa made a wry face at this rebuke, and then began to cry quietly.
+
+Every tear was like a drop of blood from Christopher's heart.
+"Pray don't scold her, sir," said he, ready to snivel himself.
+"She meant nothing unkind: it is only her pretty sprightly way; and
+she did not really imagine a love so reverent as mine"--
+
+"Don't YOU interfere between my father and me," said this
+reasonable young lady, now in an ungovernable state of feminine
+irritability.
+
+"No, Rosa," said Christopher, humbly.  "Mr. Lusignan," said he, "I
+hope you will tell her that, from the very first, I was unwilling
+to enter on this subject with HER.  Neither she nor I can forget my
+double character.  I have not said half as much to her as I ought,
+being her physician; and yet you see I have said more than she can
+bear from me, who, she knows, love her and revere her.  Then, once
+for all, do pray let me put this delicate matter into your hands:
+it is a case for parental authority."
+
+"Unfatherly tyranny, that means," said Rosa.  "What business have
+gentlemen interfering in such things?  It is unheard of.  I will
+not submit to it, even from papa."
+
+"Well, you need not scream at me," said Mr. Lusignan; and he
+shrugged his shoulders to Staines.  "She is impracticable, you see.
+If I do my duty, there will be a disturbance."
+
+Now this roused the bile of Dr. Staines.  "What, sir!" said he,
+"you could separate her and me by your authority, here in this very
+room; and yet, when her life is at stake, you abdicate!  You could
+part her from a man who loved her with every drop of his heart,--
+and she said she loved him, or, at all events, preferred him to
+others,--and you cannot part her from a miserable corset, although
+you see in her poor wasted face that it is carrying her to the
+churchyard.  In that case, sir, there is but one thing for you to
+do,--withdraw your opposition and let me marry her.  As her lover I
+am powerless; but invest me with a husband's authority, and you
+will soon see the roses return to her cheek, and her elastic figure
+expanding, and her eye beaming with health and the happiness that
+comes of perfect health."
+
+Mr. Lusignan made an answer neither of his hearers expected.  He
+said, "I have a great mind to take you at your word.  I am too old
+and fond of quiet to drive a Simpleton in single harness."
+
+This contemptuous speech, and, above all, the word Simpleton, which
+had been applied to her pretty freely by young ladies at school,
+and always galled her terribly, inflicted so intolerable a wound on
+Rosa's vanity, that she was ready to burst: on that, of course, her
+stays contributed their mite of physical uneasiness.  Thus
+irritated mind and body, she burned to strike in return; and as she
+could not slap her father in the presence of another, she gave it
+Christopher back-handed.
+
+"You can turn me out of doors," said she, "if you are tired of your
+daughter, but I am not such a SIMPLETON as to marry a tyrant.  No;
+he has shown the cloven foot in time.  A husband's AUTHORITY,
+indeed!"  Then she turned her hand, and gave it him direct.  "You
+told me a different story when you were paying your court to me;
+then you were to be my servant,--all hypocritical sweetness.  You
+had better go and marry a Circassian slave.  They don't wear stays,
+and they do wear trousers; so she will be unfeminine enough, even
+for you.  No English lady would let her husband dictate to her
+about such a thing.  I can have as many husbands as I like, without
+falling into the clutches of a tyrant.  You are a rude, indelicate--
+And so please understand it is all over between you and me."
+
+Both her auditors stood aghast, for she uttered this conclusion
+with a dignity of which the opening gave no promise, and the
+occasion, weighed in masculine balances, was not worthy.
+
+"You do not mean that.  You cannot mean it," said Dr. Staines,
+aghast.
+
+"I do mean it," said she, firmly; "and, if you are a gentleman, you
+will not compel me to say it twice--three times, I mean."
+
+At this dagger-stroke Christopher turned very pale, but he
+maintained his dignity.  "I am a gentleman," said he, quietly, "and
+a very unfortunate one.  Good-by, sir; thank you kindly.  Good-by,
+Rosa; God bless you!  Oh, pray take a thought!  Remember, your life
+and death are in your own hand now.  I am powerless."
+
+And he left the house in sorrow, and just, but not pettish,
+indignation.
+
+When he was gone, father and daughter looked at each other, and
+there was the silence that succeeds a storm.
+
+Rosa, feeling the most uneasy, was the first to express her
+satisfaction.  "There, HE is gone, and I am glad of it.  Now you
+and I shall never quarrel again.  I was quite right.  Such
+impertinence!  Such indelicacy!  A fine prospect for me if I had
+married such a man!  However, he is gone, and so there's an end of
+it.  The idea! telling a young lady, before her father, she is
+tight-laced!  If you had not been there I could have forgiven him.
+But I am not; it is a story.  Now," suddenly exalting her voice, "I
+know you believe him."
+
+"I say nothing," whispered papa, hoping to still her by example.
+This ruse did not succeed.
+
+"But you look volumes," cried she: "and I can't bear it.  I won't
+bear it.  If you don't believe ME, ask my MAID."  And with this
+felicitous speech, she rang the bell.
+
+"You'll break the wire if you don't mind," suggested her father,
+piteously.
+
+"All the better!  Why should not wires be broken as well as my
+heart?  Oh, here she is!  Now, Harriet, come here."
+
+"Yes, miss."
+
+"And tell the truth.  AM I tight-laced?"
+
+Harriet looked in her face a moment to see what was required of
+her, and then said, "That you are not, miss.  I never dressed a
+young lady as wore 'em easier than you do."
+
+"There, papa!  That will do, Harriet."
+
+Harriet retired as far as the keyhole; she saw something was up.
+
+"Now," said Rosa, "you see I was right; and, after all, it was a
+match you did not approve.  Well, it is all over, and now you may
+write to your favorite, Colonel Bright.  If he comes here, I'll box
+his old ears.  I hate him.  I hate them all.  Forgive your wayward
+girl.  I'll stay with you all my days.  I dare say that will not be
+long, now I have quarrelled with my guardian angel; and all for
+what?  Papa! papa! how CAN you sit there and not speak me one word
+of comfort?  'SIMPLETON?'  Ah! that I am to throw away a love a
+queen is scarcely worthy of; and all for what?  Really, if it
+wasn't for the ingratitude and wickedness of the thing, it is too
+laughable.  Ha! ha!--oh! oh! oh!--ha! ha! ha!"
+
+And off she went into hysterics, and began to gulp and choke
+frightfully.
+
+Her father cried for help in dismay.  In ran Harriet, saw, and
+screamed, but did not lose her head; this veracious person whipped
+a pair of scissors off the table, and cut the young lady's stay-
+laces directly.  Then there was a burst of imprisoned beauty; a
+deep, deep sigh of relief came from a bosom that would have done
+honor to Diana; and the scene soon concluded with fits of harmless
+weeping, renewed at intervals.
+
+When it had settled down to this, her father, to soothe her, said
+he would write to Dr. Staines, and bring about a reconciliation, if
+she liked.
+
+"No," said she, "you shall kill me sooner.  I should die of shame."
+
+She added, "Oh, pray, from this hour, never mention his name to me."
+
+And then she had another cry.
+
+Mr. Lusignan was a sensible man: he dropped the subject for the
+present; but he made up his mind to one thing--that he would never
+part with Dr. Staines as a physician.
+
+Next day Rosa kept her own room until dinner-time, and was as
+unhappy as she deserved to be.  She spent her time in sewing on
+stiff flannel linings and crying.  She half hoped Christopher would
+write to her, so that she might write back that she forgave him.
+But not a line.
+
+At half-past six her volatile mind took a turn, real or affected.
+She would cry no more for an ungrateful fellow,--ungrateful for not
+seeing through the stone walls how she had been employed all the
+morning; and making it up.  So she bathed her red eyes, made a
+great alteration in her dress, and came dancing into the room
+humming an Italian ditty.
+
+As they were sitting together in the dining-room after dinner, two
+letters came by the same post to Mr. Lusignan from Mr. Wyman and
+Dr. Snell.
+
+Mr. Wyman's letter:--
+
+
+DEAR SIR,--I am sorry to hear from Miss Lusignan that she intends
+to discontinue medical advice.  The disorder was progressing
+favorably, and nothing to be feared, under proper treatment.
+
+Yours, etc.
+
+
+Dr. Snell's letter:--
+
+
+DEAR SIR,--Miss Lusignan has written to me somewhat impatiently and
+seems disposed to dispense with my visits.  I do not, however,
+think it right to withdraw without telling you candidly that this
+is an unwise step.  Your daughter's health is in a very precarious
+condition.
+
+Yours, etc.
+
+
+Rosa burst out laughing.  "I have nothing to fear, and I'm on the
+brink of the grave.  That comes of writing without a consultation.
+If they had written at one table, I should have been neither well
+nor ill.  Poor Christopher!" and her sweet face began to work
+piteously.
+
+"There! there! drink a glass of wine."
+
+She did, and a tear with it, that ran into the glass like
+lightning.
+
+Warned by this that grief sat very near the bright, hilarious
+surface, Mr. Lusignan avoided all emotional subjects for the
+present.  Next day, however, he told her she might dismiss her
+lover, but no power should make him dismiss his pet physician,
+unless her health improved.
+
+"I will not give you that excuse for inflicting him on me again,"
+said the young hypocrite.
+
+She kept her word.  She got better and better, stronger, brighter,
+gayer.
+
+She took to walking every day, and increasing the distance, till
+she could walk ten miles without fatigue.
+
+Her favorite walk was to a certain cliff that commanded a noble
+view of the sea.  To get to it she must pass through the town of
+Gravesend; and we may be sure she did not pass so often through
+that city without some idea of meeting the lover she had used so
+ill, and eliciting an APOLOGY from him.  Sly puss!
+
+When she had walked twenty times, or thereabouts, through the town,
+and never seen him, she began to fear she had offended him past
+hope.  Then she used to cry at the end of every walk.
+
+But by and by bodily health, vanity, and temper combined to rouse
+the defiant spirit.  Said she, "If he really loved me, he would not
+take my word in such a hurry.  And besides, why does he not watch
+me, and find out what I am doing, and where I walk?"
+
+At last she really began to persuade herself that she was an ill-
+used and slighted girl.  She was very angry at times, and
+disconsolate at others; a mixed state in which hasty and impulsive
+young ladies commit lifelong follies.
+
+Mr. Lusignan observed the surface only: he saw his invalid daughter
+getting better every day, till at last she became a picture of
+health and bodily vigor.  Relieved of his fears, he troubled his
+head but little about Christopher Staines.  Yet he esteemed him,
+and had got to like him; but Rosa was a beauty, and could do better
+than marry a struggling physician, however able.  He launched out
+into a little gayety, resumed his quiet dinner-parties; and, after
+some persuasion, took his now blooming daughter to a ball given by
+the officers of Chatham.
+
+She was the belle of the ball beyond dispute, and danced with
+ethereal grace and athletic endurance.  She was madly fond of
+waltzing, and here she encountered what she was pleased to call a
+divine dancer.  It was a Mr. Reginald Falcon, a gentleman who had
+retired to the seaside to recruit his health and finances sore
+tried by London and Paris.  Falcon had run through his fortune, but
+had acquired, in the process, certain talents which, as they cost
+the acquirer dear, so they sometimes repay him, especially if he is
+not overburdened with principle, and adopts the notion that, the
+world having plucked him, he has a right to pluck the world.  He
+could play billiards well, but never so well as when backing
+himself for a heavy stake.  He could shoot pigeons well, and his
+shooting improved under that which makes some marksmen miss--a
+heavy bet against the gun.  He danced to perfection; and being a
+well-bred, experienced, brazen, adroit fellow, who knew a little of
+everything that was going, he had always plenty to say.  Above all,
+he had made a particular study of the fair sex; had met with many
+successes, many rebuffs; and, at last, by keen study of their
+minds, and a habit he had acquired of watching their faces, and
+shifting his helm accordingly, had learned the great art of
+pleasing them.  They admired his face; to me, the short space
+between his eyes and his hair, his aquiline nose, and thin straight
+lips, suggested the bird of prey a little too much: but to fair
+doves, born to be clutched, this similitude perhaps was not very
+alarming, even if they observed it.
+
+Rosa danced several times with him, and told him he danced like an
+angel.  He informed her that was because, for once, he was dancing
+with an angel.  She laughed and blushed.  He flattered deliciously,
+and it cost him little; for he fell in love with her that night,
+deeper than he had ever been in his whole life of intrigue.  He
+asked leave to call on her: she looked a little shy at that, and
+did not respond.  He instantly withdrew his proposal, with an
+apology and a sigh that raised her pity.  However, she was not a
+forward girl, even when excited by dancing and charmed with her
+partner; so she left him to find his own way out of that
+difficulty.
+
+He was not long about it.  At the end of the next waltz he asked
+her if he might venture to solicit an introduction to her father.
+
+"Oh, certainly," said she.  "What a selfish girl I am! this is
+terribly dull for him."
+
+The introduction being made, and Rosa being engaged for the next
+three dances, Mr. Falcon sat by Mr. Lusignan and entertained him.
+For this little piece of apparent self-denial he was paid in
+various coin: Lusignan found out he was the son of an old
+acquaintance, and so the door of Kent Villa opened to him;
+meantime, Rosa Lusignan never passed him, even in the arms of a
+cavalry officer, without bestowing a glance of approval and
+gratitude on him.  "What a good-hearted young man!" thought she.
+"How kind of him to amuse papa; and now I can stay so much longer."
+
+Falcon followed up the dance by a call, and was infinitely
+agreeable: followed up the call by another, and admired Rosa with
+so little disguise that Mr. Lusignan said to her, "I think you have
+made a conquest.  His father had considerable estates in Essex.  I
+presume he inherits them."
+
+"Oh, never mind his estates," said Rosa, "he dances like an angel,
+and gossips charmingly, and IS so nice."
+
+Christopher Staines pined for this girl in silence: his fine frame
+got thinner, his pale cheek paler, as she got rosier and rosier;
+and how?  Why, by following the very advice she had snubbed him for
+giving her.  At last, he heard she had been the belle of a ball,
+and that she had been seen walking miles from home, and blooming as
+a Hebe.  Then his deep anxiety ceased, his pride stung him
+furiously; he began to think of his own value, and to struggle with
+all his might against his deep love.  Sometimes he would even
+inveigh against her, and call her a fickle, ungrateful girl,
+capable of no strong passion but vanity.  Many a hard term he
+applied to her in his sorrowful solitude; but not a word when he
+had a hearer.  He found it hard to rest: he kept dashing up to
+London and back.  He plunged furiously into study.  He groaned and
+sighed, and fought the hard and bitter fight that is too often the
+lot of the deep that love the shallow.  Strong, but single-hearted,
+no other lady could comfort him.  He turned from female company,
+and shunned all for the fault of one.
+
+The inward contest wore him.  He began to look very thin and wan;
+and all for a Simpleton!
+
+Mr. Falcon prolonged his stay in the neighborhood, and drove a
+handsome dogcart over twice a week to visit Mr. Lusignan.
+
+He used to call on that gentleman at four o'clock, for at that hour
+Mr. Lusignan was always out, and his daughter always at home.
+
+She was at home at that hour because she took her long walks in the
+morning.  While her new admirer was in bed, or dressing, or
+breakfasting, she was springing along the road with all the
+elasticity of youth, and health, and native vigor, braced by daily
+exercise.
+
+Twenty-one of these walks did she take, with no other result than
+health and appetite; but the twenty-second was more fertile--
+extremely fertile.  Starting later than usual, she passed through
+Gravesend while Reginald Falcon was smoking at his front window.
+He saw her, and instantly doffed his dressing-gown and donned his
+coat to follow her.  He was madly in love with her, and being a man
+who had learned to shoot pigeons and opportunities flying, he
+instantly resolved to join her in her walk, get her clear of the
+town, by the sea-beach, where beauty melts, and propose to her.
+Yes, marriage had not been hitherto his habit, but this girl was
+peerless: he was pledged by honor and gratitude to Phoebe Dale; but
+hang all that now.  "No man should marry one woman when he loves
+another; it is dishonorable."  He got into the street and followed
+her as fast as he could without running.
+
+It was not so easy to catch her.  Ladies are not built for running;
+but a fine, tall, symmetrical girl who has practised walking fast
+can cover the ground wonderfully in walking--if she chooses.  It
+was a sight to see how Rosa Lusignan squared her shoulders and
+stepped out from the waist like a Canadian girl skating, while her
+elastic foot slapped the pavement as she spanked along.
+
+She had nearly cleared the town before Falcon came up with her.
+
+He was hardly ten yards from her when an unexpected incident
+occurred.  She whisked round the corner of Bird Street, and ran
+plump against Christopher Staines; in fact, she darted into his
+arms, and her face almost touched the breast she had wounded so
+deeply.
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Rosa cried "Oh!" and put up her hands to her face in lovely
+confusion, coloring like a peony.
+
+"I beg your pardon," said Christopher, stiffly, but in a voice that
+trembled.
+
+"No," said Rosa, "it was I ran against you.  I walk so fast now.
+Hope I did not hurt you."
+
+"Hurt me?"
+
+"Well, then, frighten you?"
+
+No answer.
+
+"Oh, please don't quarrel with me in the STREET," said Rosa,
+cunningly implying that he was the quarrelsome one.  "I am going on
+the beach.  Good-by!"  This adieu she uttered softly, and in a
+hesitating tone that belied it.  She started off, however, but much
+more slowly than she was going before; and, as she went, she turned
+her head with infinite grace, and kept looking askant down at the
+pavement two yards behind her: moreover she went close to the wall,
+and left room at her side for another to walk.
+
+Christopher hesitated a moment; but the mute invitation, so arch
+yet timid, so pretty, tender, sly, and womanly, was too much for
+him, as it has generally proved for males, and the philosopher's
+foot was soon in the very place to which the Simpleton with the
+mere tail of her eye directed it.
+
+They walked along, side by side, in silence, Staines agitated,
+gloomy, confused, Rosa radiant and glowing, yet not knowing what to
+say for herself, and wanting Christopher to begin.  So they walked
+along without a word.
+
+Falcon followed them at some distance to see whether it was an
+admirer or only an acquaintance.  A lover he never dreamed of; she
+had shown such evident pleasure in his company, and had received
+his visits alone so constantly.
+
+However, when the pair had got to the beach, and were walking
+slower and slower, he felt a pang of rage and jealousy, turned on
+his heel with an audible curse, and found Phoebe Dale a few yards
+behind him with a white face and a peculiar look.  He knew what the
+look meant; he had brought it to that faithful face before to-day.
+
+
+"You are better, Miss Lusignan."
+
+"Better, Dr. Staines?  I am health itself thanks to--hem!"
+
+"Our estrangement has agreed with you?"  This very bitterly.
+
+"You know very well it is not that.  Oh, please don't make me cry
+in the streets."
+
+This humble petition, or rather meek threat, led to another long
+silence.  It was continued till they had nearly reached the shore.
+But, meantime, Rosa's furtive eyes scanned Christopher's face, and
+her conscience smote her at the signs of suffering.  She felt a
+desire to beg his pardon with deep humility; but she suppressed
+that weakness.  She hung her head with a pretty, sheepish air, and
+asked him if he could not think of something agreeable to say to
+one after deserting one so long.
+
+"I am afraid not," said Christopher, bluntly.  "I have an awkward
+habit of speaking the truth; and some people can't bear that, not
+even when it is spoken for their good."
+
+"That depends on temper, and nerves, and things," said Rosa,
+deprecatingly; then softly, "I could bear anything from you now."
+
+"Indeed!" said Christopher, grimly.  "Well, then, I hear you had no
+sooner got rid of your old lover, for loving you too well and
+telling you the truth, than you took up another,--some flimsy man
+of fashion, who will tell you any lie you like."
+
+"It is a story, a wicked story," cried Rosa, thoroughly alarmed.
+"Me, a lover!  He dances like an angel; I can't help that."
+
+"Are his visits at your house like angels'--few and far between?"
+And the true lover's brow lowered black upon her for the first
+time.
+
+Rosa changed color, and her eyes fell a moment.  "Ask papa," she
+said.  "His father was an old friend of papa's."
+
+"Rosa, you are prevaricating.  Young men do not call on old
+gentlemen when there is an attractive young lady in the house."
+
+The argument was getting too close; so Rosa operated a diversion.
+"So," said she, with a sudden air of lofty disdain, swiftly and
+adroitly assumed, "you have had me watched?"
+
+"Not I; I only hear what people say."
+
+"Listen to gossip and not have me watched!  That shows how little
+you really cared for me.  Well, if you had, you would have made a
+little discovery, that is all."
+
+"Should I?" said Christopher, puzzled.  "What?"
+
+"I shall not tell you.  Think what you please.  Yes, sir, you would
+have found out that I take long walks every day, all alone; and
+what is more, that I walk through Gravesend, hoping--like a goose--
+that somebody really loved me, and would meet me, and beg my
+pardon; and if he had, I should have told him it was only my
+tongue, and my nerves, and things; my heart was his, and my
+gratitude.  And after all, what do words signify, when I am a good,
+obedient girl at bottom?  So that is what you have lost by not
+condescending to look after me.  Fine love!--Christopher, beg my
+pardon."
+
+"May I inquire for what?"
+
+"Why, for not understanding me; for not knowing that I should be
+sorry the moment you were gone.  I took them off the very next day,
+to please you."
+
+"Took off whom?--Oh, I understand.  You did?  Then you ARE a good
+girl."
+
+"Didn't I tell you I was?  A good, obedient girl, and anything but
+a flirt."
+
+"I don't say that."
+
+"But I do.  Don't interrupt.  It is to your good advice I owe my
+health; and to love anybody but you, when I owe you my love and my
+life, I must be a heartless, ungrateful, worthless--  Oh,
+Christopher, forgive me!  No, no; I mean, beg my pardon."
+
+"I'll do both," said Christopher, taking her in his arms.  "I beg
+your pardon, and I forgive you."
+
+Rosa leaned her head tenderly on his shoulder, and began to sigh.
+"Oh, dear, dear! I am a wicked, foolish girl, not fit to walk
+alone."
+
+On this admission, Christopher spoke out, and urged her to put an
+end to all these unhappy misunderstandings, and to his new torment,
+jealousy, by marrying him.
+
+"And so I would this very minute, if papa would consent.  But,"
+said she, slyly, "you never can be so foolish to wish it.  What! a
+wise man like you marry a simpleton!"
+
+"Did I ever call you that?" asked Christopher, reproachfully.
+
+"No, dear; but you are the only one who has not; and perhaps I
+should lose even the one, if you were to marry me.  Oh, husbands
+are not so polite as lovers!  I have observed that, simpleton or
+not."
+
+Christopher assured her that he took quite a different view of her
+character; he believed her to be too profound for shallow people to
+read all in a moment: he even intimated that he himself had
+experienced no little difficulty in understanding her at odd times.
+"And so," said he, "they turn round upon you, and instead of
+saying, 'We are too shallow to fathom you,' they pretend you are a
+simpleton."
+
+This solution of the mystery had never occurred to Rosa, nor indeed
+was it likely to occur to any creature less ingenious than a lover:
+it pleased her hugely; her fine eyes sparkled, and she nestled
+closer still to the strong arm that was to parry every ill, from
+mortal disease to galling epithets.
+
+She listened with a willing ear to all his reasons, his hopes, his
+fears, and, when they reached her father's door, it was settled
+that he should dine there that day, and urge his suit to her father
+after dinner.  She would implore the old gentleman to listen to it
+favorably.
+
+The lovers parted, and Christopher went home like one who has
+awakened from a hideous dream to daylight and happiness.
+
+He had not gone far before he met a dashing dogcart, driven by an
+exquisite.  He turned to look after it, and saw it drive up to Kent
+Villa.
+
+In a moment he divined his rival, and a sickness of heart came over
+him.  But he recovered himself directly, and said, "If that is the
+fellow, she will not receive him now."
+
+She did receive him though: at all events, the dogcart stood at the
+door, and its master remained inside.
+
+Christopher stood, and counted the minutes: five, ten, fifteen,
+twenty minutes, and still the dogcart stood there.
+
+It was more than he could bear.  He turned savagely, and strode
+back to Gravesend, resolving that all this torture should end that
+night, one way or other.
+
+
+Phoebe Dale was the daughter of a farmer in Essex, and one of the
+happiest young women in England till she knew Reginald Falcon, Esq.
+
+She was reared on wholesome food, in wholesome air, and used to
+churn butter, make bread, cook a bit now and then, cut out and sew
+all her own dresses, get up her own linen, make hay, ride anything
+on four legs; and, for all that, was a great reader, and taught in
+the Sunday school to oblige the vicar; wrote a neat hand, and was a
+good arithmetician, kept all the house accounts and farm accounts.
+She was a musician, too,--not profound, but very correct.  She
+would take her turn at the harmonium in church, and, when she was
+there, you never heard a wrong note in the bass, nor an
+inappropriate flourish, nor bad time.  She could sing, too, but
+never would, except her part in a psalm.  Her voice was a deep
+contralto, and she chose to be ashamed of this heavenly organ,
+because a pack of envious girls had giggled, and said it was like a
+man's.
+
+In short, her natural ability and the range and variety of her
+useful accomplishments were considerable; not that she was a
+prodigy; but she belonged to a small class of women in this island
+who are not too high to use their arms, nor too low to cultivate
+their minds; and, having a faculty and a habit deplorably rare
+amongst her sex, viz., Attention, she had profited by her
+miscellaneous advantages.
+
+Her figure and face both told her breed at once: here was an old
+English pastoral beauty; not the round-backed, narrow-chested
+cottager, but the well-fed, erect rustic, with broad, full bust and
+massive shoulder, and arm as hard as a rock with health and
+constant use; a hand finely cut, though neither small nor very
+white, and just a little hard inside, compared with Luxury's soft
+palm; a face honest, fair, and rather large than small; not
+beautiful, but exceedingly comely; a complexion not pink and white,
+but that delicately blended brickdusty color, which tints the whole
+cheek in fine gradation, outlasts other complexions twenty years,
+and beautifies the true Northern, even in old age.  Gray, limpid,
+honest, point-blank, searching eyes; hair true nut-brown, without a
+shade of red or black; and a high, smooth forehead, full of sense.
+Across it ran one deep wrinkle that did not belong to her youth.
+That wrinkle was the brand of trouble, the line of agony.  It had
+come of loving above her, yet below her, and of loving an egotist.
+
+Three years before our tale commenced, a gentleman's horse ran away
+with him, and threw him on a heap of stones by the roadside, not
+very far from Farmer Dale's gate.  The farmer had him taken in.
+The doctor said he must not be moved.  He was insensible; his cheek
+like delicate wax; his fair hair like silk stained with blood.  He
+became Phoebe's patient, and, in due course, her convalescent: his
+pale, handsome face and fascinating manners gained one charm more
+from weakness; his vices were in abeyance.
+
+The womanly nurse's heart yearned over her child; for he was feeble
+as a child; and, when he got well enough to amuse his weary hours
+by making love to her, and telling her a pack of arrant lies, she
+was a ready dupe.  He was to marry her as soon as ever his old
+uncle died, and left him the means, etc., etc.  At last he got well
+enough to leave her, and went away, her open admirer and secret
+lover.  He borrowed twenty pounds of her the day he left.
+
+He used to write her charming letters, and feed the flame; but one
+day her father sent her up to London, on his own business, all of a
+sudden, and she called on Mr. Falcon at his real address.  She
+found he did not live there--only received letters.  However, half-
+a-crown soon bought his real address, and thither Phoebe proceeded
+with a troubled heart, for she suspected that her true lover was in
+debt or trouble, and obliged to hide.  Well, he must be got out of
+it, and hide at the farm meantime.
+
+So the loving girl knocked at the door, asked for Mr. Falcon, and
+was shown in to a lady rather showily dressed, who asked her
+business.
+
+Phoebe Dale stared at her, and then turned pale as ashes.  She was
+paralyzed, and could not find her tongue.
+
+"Why, what is the matter now?" said the other, sharply.
+
+"Are you married to Reginald Falcon?"
+
+"Of course I am.  Look at my wedding-ring."
+
+"Then I am not wanted here," faltered Phoebe, ready to sink on the
+floor.
+
+"Certainly not, if you are one of the bygones," said the woman,
+coarsely; and Phoebe Dale waited to hear no more, but found her
+way, Heaven knows how, into the street, and there leaned, half-
+fainting, on a rail, till a policeman came, and told her she had
+been drinking, and suggested a cool cell as the best cure.
+
+"Not drink; only a breaking heart," said she, in her low, mellow
+voice that few could resist.
+
+He got her a glass of water, drove away the boys that congregated
+directly, and she left the street.  But she soon came back again,
+and waited about for Reginald Falcon.
+
+It was night when he appeared.  She seized him by the breast, and
+taxed him with his villany.
+
+What with her iron grasp, pale face, and flashing eyes, he lost his
+cool impudence, and blurted out excuses.  It was an old and
+unfortunate connection; he would give the world to dissolve it, if
+he could do it like a gentleman.
+
+Phoebe told him to please himself: he must part with one or the
+other.
+
+"Don't talk nonsense," said this man of brass; "I'll un-Falcon her
+on the spot."
+
+"Very well," said Phoebe.  "I am going home; and, if you are not
+there by to-morrow at noon"--She said no more, but looked a great
+deal.  Then she departed, and refused him her hand at parting.  "We
+will see about that by and by," said she.
+
+At noon my lord came down to the farm, and, unfortunately for
+Phoebe, played the penitent so skilfully for about a month, that
+she forgave him, and loved him all the more for having so nearly
+parted with him.
+
+Her peace was not to endure long.  He was detected in an intrigue
+in the very village.
+
+The insult struck so home that Phoebe herself, to her parents'
+satisfaction, ordered him out of the house at once.
+
+But, when he was gone, she had fits of weeping, and could settle to
+nothing for a long time.
+
+Months had elapsed, and she was getting a sort of dull tranquillity,
+when, one evening, taking a walk she had often with him, and mourning
+her solitude and wasted affection, he waylaid her, and clung to her
+knees, and shed crocodile tears on her hands, and, after a long
+resistance, violent at first, but fainter and fainter, got her in
+his power again, and that so completely that she met him several
+times by night, being ashamed to be seen with him in those parts
+by day.
+
+This ended in fresh promises of marriage, and in a constant
+correspondence by letter.  This pest knew exactly how to talk to a
+woman, and how to write to one.  His letters fed the unhappy flame;
+and, mind you, he sometimes deceived himself, and thought he loved
+her; but it was only himself he loved.  She was an invaluable
+lover; a faithful, disinterested friend; hers was a vile bargain;
+his, an excellent one, and he clung to it.
+
+And so they went on.  She detected him in another infidelity, and
+reproached him bitterly; but she had no longer the strength to
+break with him.  Nevertheless, this time she had the sense to make
+a struggle.  She implored him, on her very knees, to show her a
+little mercy in return for all her love.  "For pity's sake, leave
+me!" she cried.  "You are strong, and I am weak.  You can end it
+forever, and pray do.  You don't want me; you don't value me: then,
+leave me, once and for all, and end this hell you keep me in."
+
+No; he could not, or he would not, leave her alone.  Look at a
+bird's wings!--how like an angel's!  Yet so vile a thing as a bit
+of birdlime subdues them utterly; and such was the fascinating
+power of this mean man over this worthy woman.  She was a reader, a
+thinker, a model of respectability, industry, and sense; a
+businesswoman, keen and practical; could encounter sharp hands in
+sharp trades; could buy or sell hogs, calves, or beasts with any
+farmer or butcher in the country, yet no match for a cunning fool.
+She had enshrined an idol in her heart, and that heart adored it,
+and clung to it, though the superior head saw through it, dreaded
+it, despised it.
+
+No wonder three years of this had drawn a tell-tale wrinkle across
+the polished brow.
+
+
+Phoebe Dale had not received a letter for some days; that roused
+her suspicion and stung her jealousy; she came up to London by fast
+train, and down to Gravesend directly.
+
+She had a thick veil that concealed her features; and with a little
+inquiring and bribing, she soon found out that Mr. Falcon was there
+with a showy dogcart.  "Ah!" thought Phoebe, "he has won a little
+money at play or pigeon-shooting; so now he has no need of me."
+
+She took the lodgings opposite him, but observed nothing till this
+very morning, when she saw him throw off his dressing-gown all in a
+hurry and fling on his coat.  She tied on her bonnet as rapidly,
+and followed him, until she discovered the object of his pursuit.
+It was a surprise to her, and a puzzle, to see another man step in,
+as if to take her part.  But as Reginald still followed the
+loitering pair, she followed Reginald, till he turned and found her
+at his heels, white and lowering.
+
+She confronted him in threatening silence for some time, during
+which he prepared his defence.
+
+"So it is a LADY this time," said she, in her low, rich voice,
+sternly.
+
+"Is it?"
+
+"Yes, and I should say she is bespoke--that tall, fine-built
+gentleman.  But I suppose you care no more for his feelings than
+you do for mine."
+
+"Phoebe," said the egotist, "I will not try to deceive you.  You
+have often said you are my true friend."
+
+"And I think I have proved it."
+
+"That you have.  Well, then, be my true friend now.  I am in love--
+really in love--this time.  You and I only torment each other; let
+us part friends.  There are plenty of farmers in Essex that would
+jump at you.  As for me, I'll tell you the truth; I have run
+through every farthing; my estate mortgaged beyond its value--two
+or three writs out against me--that is why I slipped down here.  My
+only chance is to marry Money.  Her father knows I have land, and
+he knows nothing about the mortgages; she is his only daughter.
+Don't stand in my way, that is a good girl; be my friend, as you
+always were.  Hang it all, Phoebe, can't you say a word to a fellow
+that is driven into a corner, instead of glaring at me like that?
+There! I know it is ungrateful; but what can a fellow do?  I must
+live like a gentleman or else take a dose of prussic acid; you
+don't want to drive me to that.  Why, you proposed to part, last
+time, yourself."
+
+She gave him one majestic, indescribable look, that made even his
+callous heart quiver, and turned away.
+
+Then the scamp admired her for despising him, and could not bear to
+lose her.  He followed her, and put forth all those powers of
+persuading and soothing, which had so often proved irresistible.
+But this time it was in vain.  The insult was too savage, and his
+egotism too brutal, for honeyed phrases to blind her.
+
+After enduring it a long time with a silent shudder, she turned and
+shook him fiercely off her like some poisonous reptile.
+
+"Do you want me to kill you?  I'd liever kill myself for loving
+such a thing as THOU.  Go thy ways, man, and let me go mine."  In
+her passion she dropped her cultivation for once, and went back to
+the THOU and THEE of her grandam.
+
+He colored up and looked spiteful enough; but he soon recovered his
+cynical egotism, and went off whistling an operatic passage.
+
+She crept to her lodgings, and buried her face in her pillow, and
+rocked herself to and fro for hours in the bitterest agony the
+heart can feel, groaning over her great affection wasted, flung
+into the dirt.
+
+While she was thus, she heard a little commotion.  She came to the
+window and saw Falcon, exquisitely dressed, drive off in his
+dogcart, attended by the acclamations of eight boys.  She saw at a
+glance he was gone courting; her knees gave way under her, and,
+such is the power of the mind, this stalwart girl lay weak as water
+on the sofa, and had not the power to go home, though just then she
+had but one wish, one hope--to see her idol's face no more, nor
+hear his wheedling tongue, that had ruined her peace.
+
+The exquisite Mr. Falcon was received by Rosa Lusignan with a
+certain tremor that flattered his hopes.  He told her, in charming
+language, how he had admired her at first sight, then esteemed her,
+then loved her.
+
+She blushed and panted, and showed more than once a desire to
+interrupt him, but was too polite.  She heard him out with rising
+dismay, and he offered her his hand and heart.
+
+But by this time she had made up her mind what to say.  "O Mr.
+Falcon!" she cried, "how can you speak to me in this way?  Why, I
+am engaged.  Didn't you know?"
+
+"No; I am sure you are not, or you would never have given me the
+encouragement you have."
+
+"Oh, all engaged young ladies flirt--a little; and everybody here
+knows I am engaged to Dr. Staines."
+
+"Why, I never saw him here."
+
+Rosa's tact was a quality that came and went; so she blushed, and
+faltered out, "We had a little tiff, as lovers will."
+
+"And you did me the honor to select me as cat's-paw to bring him on
+again.  Was not that rather heartless?"
+
+Rosa's fitful tact returned to her.
+
+"Oh, sir, do not think so ill of me.  I am not heartless, I am only
+unwise; and you are so superior to the people about you; I could
+not help appreciating you, and I thought you knew I was engaged,
+and so I was less on my guard.  I hope I shall not lose your
+esteem, though I have no right to anything more.  Ah! I see by your
+face I have behaved very ill: pray forgive me."
+
+And with this she turned on the waters of the Nile, better known to
+you, perhaps, as "crocodile tears."
+
+Falcon was a gentleman on the surface, and knew he should only make
+matters worse by quarrelling with her.  So he ground his teeth, and
+said, "May your own heart never feel the pangs you have inflicted.
+I shall love you and remember you till my dying day."
+
+He bowed ceremoniously and left her.
+
+"Ay," said he to himself, "I WILL remember you, you heartless jilt,
+and the man you have jilted me for.  Staines is his d--d name, is
+it?"
+
+He drove back crestfallen, bitter, and, for once in his life,
+heart-sick, and drew up at his lodgings.  Here he found attendants
+waiting to receive him.
+
+A sheriff's officer took his dogcart and horse under a judgment;
+the disturbance this caused collected a tiny crowd, gaping and
+grinning, and brought Phoebe's white face and eyes swollen with
+weeping to the window.
+
+Falcon saw her and brazened it out.  "Take them," said he, with an
+oath.  "I'll have a better turn-out by to-morrow, breakfast-time."
+
+The crowd cheered him for his spirit.
+
+He got down, lit a cigar, chaffed the officer and the crowd, and
+was, on the whole, admired.
+
+Then another officer, who had been hunting him in couples with the
+other, stepped forward and took HIM, for the balance of a judgment
+debt.
+
+Then the swell's cigar fell out of his mouth, and he was seriously
+alarmed.  "Why, Cartwright," said he, "this is too bad.  You
+promised not to see me this month.  You passed me full in the
+Strand."
+
+"You are mistaken, sir," said Cartwright, with sullen irony.  "I've
+got a twin-brother; a many takes him for me, till they finds the
+difference."  Then, lowering his voice, "What call had you to boast
+in your club you had made it right with Bill Cartwright, and he'd
+never see you?  That got about, and so I was bound to see you or
+lose my bread.  There's one or two I don't see, but then they are
+real gentlemen, and thinks of me as well as theirselves, and
+doesn't blab."
+
+"I must have been drunk," said Falcon apologetically.  "More likely
+blowing a cloud.  When you young gents gets a-smoking together,
+you'd tell on your own mothers.  Come along, colonel, off we go to
+Merrimashee."
+
+"Why, it is only twenty-six pounds.  I have paid the rest."
+
+"More than that; there's the costs."
+
+"Come in, and I'll settle it."
+
+"All right, sir.  Jem, watch the back."
+
+"Oh, I shall not try that game with a sharp hand like you,
+Cartwright."
+
+"You had better not, sir," said Cartwright; but he was softened a
+little by the compliment.
+
+When they were alone, Falcon began by saying it was a bad job for
+him.
+
+"Why, I thought you was a-going to pay it all in a moment."
+
+"I can't; but I have got a friend over the way that could, if she
+chose.  She has always got money, somehow."
+
+"Oh, if it is a she, it is all right."
+
+"I don't know.  She has quarrelled with me; but give me a little
+time.  Here! have a glass of sherry and a biscuit, while I try it
+on."
+
+Having thus muffled Cartwright, this man of the world opened his
+window and looked out.  The crowd had followed the captured
+dogcart, so he had the street to himself.  He beckoned to Phoebe,
+and after considerable hesitation she opened her window.
+
+"Phoebe," said he, in tones of tender regret, admirably natural and
+sweet, "I shall never offend you again; so forgive me this once.  I
+have given that girl up."
+
+"Not you," said Phoebe, sullenly.
+
+"Indeed I have.  After our quarrel, I started to propose to her;
+but I had not the heart; I came back and left her."
+
+"Time will show.  If it is not her, it will be some other, you
+false, heartless villain."
+
+"Come, I say, don't be so hard on me in trouble.  I am going to
+prison."
+
+"So I suppose."
+
+"Ah! but it is worse than you think.  I am only taken for a paltry
+thirty pounds or so."
+
+"Thirty-three, fifteen, five," suggested Cartwright, in a muffled
+whisper, his mouth being full of biscuit.
+
+"But once they get me to a sponging-house, detainers will pour in,
+and my cruel creditors will confine me for life."
+
+"It is the best place for you.  It will put a stop to your
+wickedness, and I shall be at peace.  That's what I have never
+known, night or day, this three years."
+
+"But you will not be happy if you see me go to prison before your
+eyes.  Were you ever inside a prison?  Just think what it must be
+to be cooped up in those cold grim cells all alone; for they use a
+debtor like a criminal now."
+
+Phoebe shuddered; but she said, bravely, "Well, tell THEM you have
+been a-courting.  There was a time I'd have died sooner than see a
+hair of your head hurt; but it is all over now; you have worn me
+out."
+
+Then she began to cry.
+
+Falcon heaved a deep sigh.  "It is no more than I deserve," said
+he.  "I'll pack up my things, and go with the officer.  Give me one
+kind word at parting, and I'll think of it in my prison, night and
+day."
+
+He withdrew from the window with another deep sigh, told
+Cartwright, cheerfully, it was all right, and proceeded to pack up
+his traps.
+
+Meantime Phoebe sat at her window and cried bitterly.  Her words
+had been braver than her heart.
+
+Falcon managed to pay the trifle he owed for the lodgings, and
+presently he came out with Cartwright, and the attendant called a
+cab.  His things were thrown in, and Cartwright invited him to
+follow.  Then he looked up, and cast a genuine look of terror and
+misery at Phoebe.  He thought she would have relented before this.
+
+Her heart gave way; I am afraid it would, even without that piteous
+and mute appeal.  She opened the window, and asked Mr. Cartwright
+if he would be good enough to come and speak to her.
+
+Cartwright committed his prisoner to the subordinate, and knocked
+at the door of Phoebe's lodgings.  She came down herself and let
+him in.  She led the way upstairs, motioned him to a seat, sat down
+by him, and began to cry again.  She was thoroughly unstrung.
+
+Cartwright was human, and muttered some words of regret that a poor
+fellow must do his duty.
+
+"Oh, it is not that," sobbed Phoebe.  "I can find the money.  I
+have found more for him than that, many's the time."  Then, drying
+her eyes, "But you must know the world, and I dare say you can see
+how 'tis with me."
+
+"I can," said Cartwright, gravely.  "I overheard you and him; and,
+my girl, if you take my advice, why, let him go.  He is a gentleman
+skin deep, and dresses well, and can palaver a girl, no doubt; but
+bless your heart, I can see at a glance he is not worth your little
+finger, an honest, decent young woman like you.  Why, it is like
+butter fighting with stone.  Let him go; or I will tell you what it
+is, you will hang for him some day, or else make away with
+yourself."
+
+"Ay, sir," said Phoebe, "that's likelier; and if I was to let him
+go to prison, I should sit me down and think of his parting look,
+and I should fling myself into the water for him before I was a day
+older."
+
+"Ye mustn't do that anyway.  While there's life there's hope."
+
+Upon this Phoebe put him a question, and found him ready to do
+anything for her, in reason--provided he was paid for it.  And the
+end of it all was, the prisoner was conveyed to London; Phoebe got
+the requisite sum; Falcon was deposited in a third-class carriage
+bound for Essex.  Phoebe paid his debt, and gave Cartwright a
+present, and away rattled the train conveying the handsome egotist
+into temporary retirement, to wit, at a village five miles from the
+Dales' farm.  She was too ashamed of her young gentleman and
+herself to be seen with him in her native village.  On the road
+down he was full of little practical attentions; she received them
+coldly; his mellifluous mouth was often at her car, pouring thanks
+and praises into it; she never vouchsafed a word of reply.  All she
+did was to shudder now and then, and cry at intervals.  Yet,
+whenever he left her side, her whole body became restless; and when
+he came back to her, a furtive thrill announced the insane
+complacency his bare contact gave her.  Surely, of all the forms in
+which love torments the heart, this was the most terrible and
+pitiable.
+
+
+Mr. Lusignan found his daughter in tears.
+
+"Why, what is the matter now?" said he, a little peevishly.  "We
+have had nothing of this sort of thing lately."
+
+"Papa, it is because I have misconducted myself.  I am a foolish,
+imprudent girl.  I have been flirting with Mr. Falcon, and he has
+taken a CRUEL advantage of it--proposed to me--this very afternoon--
+actually!"
+
+"Has he?  Well, he is a fine fellow, and has a landed estate in
+Norfolk.  There's nothing like land.  They may well call it real
+property--there is something to show; you can walk on it, and ride
+on it, and look out of window at it: that IS property."
+
+"Oh, papa! what are you saying?  Would you have me marry one man
+when I belong to another?"
+
+"But you don't belong to any one except to me."
+
+"Oh, yes; I do.  I belong to my dear Christopher."
+
+"Why, you dismissed him before my very eyes; and very ill you
+behaved, begging your pardon.  The man was your able physician and
+your best friend, and said nothing that was not for your good; and
+you treated him like a dog."
+
+"Yes, but he has apologized."
+
+"What for? being treated like a dog?"
+
+"Oh, don't say so, papa!  At all events, he has apologized, as a
+gentleman should whenever--whenever"--
+
+"Whenever a lady is in the wrong."
+
+"Don't, papa; and I have asked him to dinner."
+
+"With all my heart.  I shall be downright glad to see him again.
+You used him abominably."
+
+"But you need not keep saying so," whined Rosa.  "And that is not
+all, dear papa; the worst of it is, Mr. Falcon proposing to me has
+opened my eyes.  I am not fit to be trusted alone.  I am too fond
+of dancing, and flirting will follow somehow.  Oh, think how ill I
+was a few months ago, and how unhappy you were about me!  They were
+killing me.  He came and saved me.  Yes, papa, I owe all this
+health and strength to Christopher.  I did take them off, the very
+next day, and see the effect of it and my long walks.  I owe him my
+life, and what I value far more, my good looks.  La! I wish I had
+not told you that.  And after all this, don't I belong to my
+Christopher?  How could I be happy or respect myself if I married
+any one else?  And oh, papa! he looks wan and worn.  He has been
+fretting for his Simpleton.  Oh, dear! I mustn't think of that--it
+makes me cry; and you don't like scenes, do you?"
+
+"Hate 'em!"
+
+"Well, then," said Rosa, coaxingly, "I'll tell you how to end them.
+Marry your Simpleton to the only man who is fit to take care of
+her.  Oh, papa! think of his deep, deep affection for me, and pray
+don't snub him if--by any chance--after dinner--he should HAPPEN to
+ask you--something."
+
+"Oh, then it is possible that, by the merest chance, the gentleman
+you have accidentally asked to dinner, may, by some strange
+fortuity, be surprised into asking me a second time for something
+very much resembling my daughter's hand--eh?"
+
+Rosa colored high.  "He might, you know.  How can I tell what
+gentlemen will say when the ladies have retired and they are left
+alone with--with"--
+
+"With the bottle.  Ay, that's true; when the wine is in, the wit is
+out."
+
+Said Rosa, "Well, if he should happen to be so foolish, pray think
+of ME; of all we owe him, and how much I love him, and ought to
+love him."  She then bestowed a propitiatory kiss, and ran off to
+dress for dinner; it was a much longer operation to-day than usual.
+
+Dr. Staines was punctual.  Mr. Lusignan commented favorably on
+that.
+
+"He always is," said Rosa, eagerly.
+
+They dined together.  Mr. Lusignan chatted freely, but Staines and
+Rosa were under a feeling of restraint, Staines in particular; he
+could not help feeling that before long his fate must be settled.
+He would either obtain Rosa's hand, or have to resign her to some
+man of fortune who would step in; for beauty such as hers could not
+long lack brilliant offers.  Longing, though dreading, to know his
+fate, he was glad when dinner ended.
+
+Rosa sat with them a little while after dinner, then rose, bestowed
+another propitiatory kiss on her father's head, and retired with a
+modest blush, and a look at Christopher that was almost divine.
+
+It inspired him with the courage of lions, and he commenced the
+attack at once.
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+"Mr. Lusignan," said he, "the last time I was here you gave me some
+hopes that you might be prevailed on to trust that angel's health
+and happiness to my care."
+
+"Well, Dr. Staines, I will not beat about the bush with you.  My
+judgment is still against this marriage; you need not look so
+alarmed; it does not follow I shall forbid it.  I feel I have
+hardly a right to, for my Rosa might be in her grave now but for
+you; and, another thing, when I interfered between you two I had no
+proof you were a man of ability; I had only your sweetheart's word
+for that; and I never knew a case before where a young lady's swan
+did not turn out a goose.  Your rare ability gives you another
+chance in the professional battle that is before you; indeed, it
+puts a different face on the whole matter.  I still think it
+premature.  Come now, would it not be much wiser to wait, and
+secure a good practice before you marry a mere child?  There!
+there! I only advise; I don't dictate; you shall settle it
+together, you two wiseacres.  Only I must make one positive
+condition.  I have nothing to give my child during my lifetime; but
+one thing I have done for her; years ago I insured my life for six
+thousand pounds; and you must do the same.  I will not have her
+thrown on the world a widow, with a child or two, perhaps, to
+support, and not a farthing; you know the insecurity of mortal
+life."
+
+"I do! I do!  Why, of course I will insure my life, and pay the
+annual premium out of my little capital, until income flows in."
+
+"Will you hand me over a sum sufficient to pay that premium for
+five years?"
+
+"With pleasure."
+
+"Then I fear," said the old gentleman, with a sigh, "my opposition
+to the match must cease here.  I still recommend you to wait; but--
+there! I might just as well advise fire and tow to live neighbors
+and keep cool."
+
+To show the injustice of this simile, Christopher Staines started
+up with his eyes all aglow, and cried out, rapturously, "Oh, sir,
+may I tell her?"
+
+"Yes, you may tell her," said Lusignan, with a smile.  "Stop--what
+are you going to tell her?"
+
+"That you consent, sir.  God bless you!  God bless you!  Oh!"
+
+"Yes, but that I advise you to wait."
+
+"I'll tell her all," said Staines, and rushed out even as he spoke,
+and upset a heavy chair with a loud thud.
+
+"Ah! ah!" cried the old gentleman in dismay, and put his fingers in
+his ears--too late.  "I see," said he, "there will be no peace and
+quiet now till they are out of the house."  He lighted a soothing
+cigar to counteract the fracas.
+
+"Poor little Rosa! a child but yesterday, and now to encounter the
+cares of a wife, and perhaps a mother.  Ah! she is but young, but
+young."
+
+The old gentleman prophesied truly; from that moment he had no
+peace till he withdrew all semblance of dissent, and even of
+procrastination.
+
+Christopher insured his life for six thousand pounds, and assigned
+the policy to his wife.  Four hundred pounds was handed to Mr.
+Lusignan to pay the premiums until the genius of Dr. Staines should
+have secured him that large professional income, which does not
+come all at once, even to the rare physician, who is Capax,
+Efficax, Sagax.
+
+The wedding-day was named.  The bridesmaids were selected, the
+guests invited.  None refused but Uncle Philip.  He declined, in
+his fine bold hand, to countenance in person an act of folly he
+disapproved.  Christopher put his letter away with a momentary
+sigh, and would not show it Rosa.  All other letters they read
+together, charming pastime of that happy period.  Presents poured
+in.  Silver teapots, coffeepots, sugar-basins, cream-jugs, fruit-
+dishes, silver-gilt inkstands, albums, photograph-books, little
+candlesticks, choice little services of china, shell salt-cellars
+in a case lined with maroon velvet; a Bible, superb in binding and
+clasps, and everything but the text--that was illegible; a silk
+scarf from Benares; a gold chain from Delhi, six feet long or
+nearly; a Maltese necklace, a ditto in exquisite filagree from
+Genoa; English brooches, a trifle too big and brainless; apostle
+spoons; a treble-lined parasol with ivory stick and handle; an
+ivory card-case, richly carved; workbox of sandal-wood and ivory,
+etc.  Mr. Lusignan's City friends, as usual with these gentlemen,
+sent the most valuable things.  Every day one or two packages were
+delivered, and, in opening them, Rosa invariably uttered a peculiar
+scream of delight, and her father put his fingers in his ears; yet
+there was music in this very scream, if he would only have listened
+to it candidly, instead of fixing his mind on his vague theory of
+screams--so formed was she to please the ear as well as the eye.
+
+At last came a parcel she opened and stared at, smiling and
+coloring like a rose, but did not scream, being too dumfounded and
+perplexed; for lo! a teapot of some base material, but simple and
+elegant in form, being an exact reproduction of a melon; and inside
+this teapot a canvas bag containing ten guineas in silver, and a
+wash-leather bag containing twenty guineas in gold, and a slip of
+paper, which Rosa, being now half recovered from her stupefaction,
+read out to her father and Dr. Staines:
+
+
+"People that buy presents blindfold give duplicates and
+triplicates; and men seldom choose to a woman's taste; so be
+pleased to accept the enclosed tea-leaves, and buy for yourself.
+The teapot you can put on the hob, for it is nickel."
+
+
+Rosa looked sore puzzled again.  "Papa," said she, timidly, "have
+we any friend that is--a little--deranged?"
+
+"A lot."
+
+"Oh, then, that accounts."
+
+"Why no, love," said Christopher.  "I have heard of much learning
+making a man mad, but never of much good sense."
+
+"What!  Do you call this sensible?"
+
+"Don't you?"
+
+"I'll read it again," said Rosa.  "Well--yes--I declare--it is not
+so mad as I thought; but it is very eccentric."
+
+Lusignan suggested there was nothing so eccentric as common sense,
+especially in time of wedding.  "This," said he, "comes from the
+City.  It is a friend of mine, some old fox; he is throwing dust in
+your eyes with his reasons; his real reason was that his time is
+money; it would have cost the old rogue a hundred pounds' worth of
+time--you know the City, Christopher--to go out and choose the girl
+a present; so he has sent his clerk out with a check to buy a
+pewter teapot, and fill it with specie."
+
+"Pewter!" cried Rosa.  "No such thing!  It's nickel.  What is
+nickel, I wonder?"
+
+The handwriting afforded no clew, so there the discussion ended:
+but it was a nice little mystery, and very convenient; made
+conversation.  Rosa had many an animated discussion about it with
+her female friends.
+
+The wedding-day came at last.  The sun shone--ACTUALLY, as Rosa
+observed.  The carriages drove up.  The bridesmaids, principally
+old schoolfellows and impassioned correspondents of Rosa, were
+pretty, and dressed alike and delightfully; but the bride was
+peerless; her Southern beauty literally shone in that white satin
+dress and veil, and her head was regal with the Crown of orange-
+blossoms.  Another crown she had--true virgin modesty.  A low
+murmur burst from the men the moment they saw her; the old women
+forgave her beauty on the spot, and the young women almost pardoned
+it; she was so sweet and womanly, and so sisterly to her own sex.
+
+When they started for the church she began to tremble, she scarce
+knew why; and when the solemn words were said, and the ring was put
+on her finger, she cried a little, and looked half imploringly at
+her bridesmaids once, as if seared at leaving them for an untried
+and mysterious life with no woman near.
+
+They were married.  Then came the breakfast, that hour of
+uneasiness and blushing to such a bride as this; but at last she
+was released.  She sped up-stairs, thanking goodness it was over.
+Down came her last box.  The bride followed in a plain travelling
+dress, which her glorious eyes and brows and her rich glowing
+cheeks seemed to illumine: she was handed into the carriage, the
+bridegroom followed.  All the young guests clustered about the
+door, armed with white shoes--slippers are gone by.
+
+They started; the ladies flung their white shoes right and left
+with religious impartiality, except that not one of their missiles
+went at the object.  The men, more skilful, sent a shower on to the
+roof of the carriage, which is the lucky spot.  The bride kissed
+her hand, and managed to put off crying, though it cost her a
+struggle.  The party hurrahed; enthusiastic youths gathered fallen
+shoes, and ran and hurled them again with cheerful yells, and away
+went the happy pair, the bride leaning sweetly and confidingly with
+both her white hands on the bridegroom's shoulder, while he dried
+the tears that would run now at leaving home and parent forever,
+and kissed her often, and encircled her with his strong arm, and
+murmured comfort, and love, and pride, and joy, and sweet vows of
+lifelong tenderness into her ears, that soon stole nearer his lips
+to hear, and the fair cheek grew softly to his shoulder.
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Dr. Staines and Mrs. Staines visited France, Switzerland, and the
+Rhine, and passed a month of Elysium before they came to London to
+face their real destiny and fight the battle of life.
+
+And here, methinks, a reader of novels may perhaps cry out and say,
+"What manner of man is this, who marries his hero and heroine, and
+then, instead of leaving them happy for life, and at rest from his
+uneasy pen and all their other troubles, flows coolly on with their
+adventures?"
+
+To this I can only reply that the old English novel is no rule to
+me, and life is; and I respectfully propose an experiment.  Catch
+eight old married people, four of each sex, and say unto them,
+"Sir," or "Madam, did the more remarkable events of your life come
+to you before marriage or after?"  Most of them will say "after,"
+and let that be my excuse for treating the marriage of Christopher
+Staines and Rosa Lusignan as merely one incident in their lives; an
+incident which, so far from ending their story, led by degrees to
+more striking events than any that occurred to them before they
+were man and wife.
+
+They returned, then, from their honey tour, and Staines, who was
+methodical and kept a diary, made the following entry therein:--
+
+"We have now a life of endurance, and self-denial, and economy,
+before us; we have to rent a house, and furnish it, and live in it,
+until professional income shall flow in and make all things easy:
+and we have two thousand five hundred pounds left to do it with."
+
+They came to a family hotel, and Dr. Staines went out directly
+after breakfast to look for a house.  Acting on a friend's advice,
+he visited the streets and places north of Oxford Street, looking
+for a good commodious house adapted to his business.  He found
+three or four at fair rents, neither cheap nor dear, the district
+being respectable and rather wealthy, but no longer fashionable.
+He came home with his notes, and found Rosa beaming in a crisp
+peignoir, and her lovely head its natural size and shape, high-bred
+and elegant.  He sat down, and with her hand in his proceeded to
+describe the houses to her, when a waiter threw open the door--
+"Mrs. John Cole."
+
+"Florence!" cried Rosa, starting up.
+
+In flowed Florence: they both uttered a little squawk of delight,
+and went at each other like two little tigresses, and kissed in
+swift alternation with a singular ardor, drawing their crests back
+like snakes, and then darting them forward and inflicting what, to
+the male philosopher looking on, seemed hard kisses, violent
+kisses, rather than the tender ones to be expected from two tender
+creatures embracing each other.
+
+"Darling," said Rosa, "I knew you would be the first.  Didn't I
+tell you so, Christopher?--My husband--my darling Florry!  Sit
+down, love, and tell me everything; he has just been looking out
+for a house.  Ah! you have got all that over long ago: she has been
+married six months.  Florry, you are handsomer than ever; and what
+a beautiful dress!  Ah! London is the place.  Real Brussels, I
+declare," and she took hold of her friend's lace and gloated on it.
+
+Christopher smiled good-naturedly, and said, "I dare say you ladies
+have a good deal to say to each other."
+
+"Oceans," said Rosa.
+
+"I will go and hunt houses again."
+
+"There's a good husband," said Mrs. Cole, as soon as the door
+closed on him, "and such a fine man!  Why, he must be six feet.
+Mine is rather short.  But he is very good; refuses me nothing.  My
+will is law."
+
+"That is all right--you are so sensible; but I want governing a
+little, and I like it--actually.  Did the dressmaker find it,
+dear?"
+
+"Oh, no!  I had it by me.  I bought it at Brussels on our wedding
+tour: it is dearer there than in London."
+
+She said this as if "dearer" and "better" were synonymous.
+
+"But about your house, Rosie dear?"
+
+"Yes, darling, I'll tell you all about it.  I never saw a moire
+this shade before.  I don't care for them in general; but this is
+so distingue."
+
+Florence rewarded her with a kiss.
+
+"The house," said Rosa.  "Oh, he has seen one in Portman Street,
+and one in Gloucester Place."
+
+"Oh, that will never do," cried Mrs. Cole.  "It is no use being a
+physician in those out-of-the-way places.  He must be in Mayfair."
+
+"Must he?"
+
+"Of course.  Besides, then my Johnnie can call him in when they are
+just going to die.  Johnnie is a general prac., and makes two
+thousand a year; and he shall call your one in; but he must live in
+Mayfair.  Why, Rosie, you would not be such a goose as to live in
+those places--they are quite gone by."
+
+"I shall do whatever you advise me, dear.  Oh, what a comfort to
+have a dear friend: and six months married, and knows things.  How
+richly it is trimmed!  Why, it is nearly all trimmings."
+
+"That is the fashion."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+And after that big word there was no more to be said.
+
+These two ladies in their conversation gravitated towards dress,
+and fell flat on it every half-minute.  That great and elevating
+topic held them by a silken cord, but it allowed them to flutter
+upwards into other topics; and in those intervals, numerous though
+brief, the lady who had been married six months found time to
+instruct the matrimonial novice with great authority, and even a
+shade of pomposity.  "My dear, the way ladies and gentlemen get a
+house--in the first place, you don't go about yourself like that,
+and you never go to the people themselves, or you are sure to be
+taken in, but to a respectable house-agent."
+
+"Yes, dear, that must be the best way, one would think."
+
+"Of course it is; and you ask for a house in Mayfair, and he shows
+you several, and recommends you the best, and sees you are not
+cheated."
+
+"Thank you, love," said Rosa; "now I know what to do; I'll not
+forget a word.  And the train so beautifully shaped!  Ah! it is
+only in London or Paris they can make a dress flow behind like
+that," etc., etc.
+
+Dr. Staines came back to dinner in good spirits; he had found a
+house in Harewood Square; good entrance hall, where his gratuitous
+patients might sit on benches; good dining-room where his superior
+patients might wait; and good library, to be used as a consulting-
+room.  Rent only eighty-five pounds per annum.
+
+But Rosa told him that would never do; a physician must be in the
+fashionable part of the town.
+
+"Eventually," said Christopher; "but surely at first starting--and
+you know they say little boats should not go too far from shore."
+
+Then Rosa repeated all her friend's arguments, and seemed so
+unhappy at the idea of not living near her, that Staines, who had
+not yet said the hard word "no" to her, gave in; consoling his
+prudence with the reflection that, after all, Mr. Cole could put
+many a guinea in his way, for Mr. Cole was middle-aged,--though his
+wife was young,--and had really a very large practice.
+
+So next day, the newly-wedded pair called on a house-agent in
+Mayfair, and his son and partner went with them to several places.
+The rents of houses equal to that in Harewood Square were three
+hundred pounds a year at least, and a premium to boot.
+
+Christopher told him these were quite beyond the mark.  "Very
+well," said the agent.  "Then I'll show you a Bijou."
+
+Rosa clapped her hands.  "That is the thing for us.  We don't want
+a large house, only a beautiful one, and in Mayfair."
+
+"Then the Bijou will be sure to suit you."
+
+He took them to the Bijou.
+
+The Bijou had a small dining-room with one very large window in two
+sheets of plate glass, and a projecting balcony full of flowers; a
+still smaller library, which opened on a square yard enclosed.
+Here were a great many pots, with flowers dead or dying from
+neglect.  On the first floor a fair-sized drawing-room, and a tiny
+one at the back: on the second floor, one good bedroom, and a
+dressing-room, or little bedroom: three garrets above.
+
+Rosa was in ecstasies.  "It is a nest," said she.
+
+"It is a bank-note," said the agent, stimulating equal enthusiasm,
+after his fashion.  "You can always sell the lease again for more
+money."
+
+Christopher kept cool.  "I don't want a house to sell, but to live
+in, and do my business; I am a physician: now the drawing-room is
+built over the entrance to a mews; the back rooms all look into a
+mews: we shall have the eternal noise and smell of a mews.  My
+wife's rest will be broken by the carriages rolling in and out.
+The hall is fearfully small and stuffy.  The rent is abominably
+high; and what is the premium for, I wonder?"
+
+"Always a premium in Mayfair, sir.  A lease is property here: the
+gentleman is not acquainted with this part, madam."
+
+"Oh, yes, he is," said Rosa, as boldly as a six years' wife: "he
+knows everything."
+
+"Then he knows that a house of this kind at a hundred and thirty
+pounds a year in Mayfair is a bank-note."
+
+Staines turned to Rosa.  "The poor patients, where am I to receive
+them?"
+
+"In the stable," suggested the house agent.
+
+"Oh!" said Rosa, shocked.
+
+"Well, then, the coach-house.  Why, there's plenty of room for a
+brougham, and one horse, and fifty poor patients at a time: beggars
+musn't be choosers; if you give them physic gratis, that is enough:
+you ain't bound to find 'em a palace to sit down in, and hot coffee
+and rump steaks all round, doctor."
+
+This tickled Rosa so that she burst out laughing, and thenceforward
+giggled at intervals, wit of this refined nature having all the
+charm of novelty for her.
+
+They inspected the stables, which were indeed the one redeeming
+feature in the horrid little Bijou; and then the agent would show
+them the kitchen, and the new stove.  He expatiated on this to Mrs.
+Staines.  "Cook a dinner for thirty people, madam."
+
+"And there's room for them to eat it--in the road," said Staines.
+
+The agent reminded him there were larger places to be had, by a
+very simple process, viz., paying for them.
+
+Staines thought of the large, comfortable house in Harewood Square.
+"One hundred and thirty pounds a year for this poky little hole?"
+he groaned.
+
+"Why, it is nothing at all for a Bijou."
+
+"But it is too much for a bandbox."
+
+Rosa laid her hand on his arm, with an imploring glance.
+
+"Well," said he, "I'll submit to the rent, but I really cannot give
+the premium, it is too ridiculous.  He ought to bribe me to rent
+it, not I him."
+
+"Can't be done without, sir."
+
+"Well, I'll give a hundred pounds and no more."
+
+"Impossible, sir."
+
+"Then good morning.  Now, dearest, just come and see the house at
+Harewood Square,--eighty-five pounds and no premium."
+
+"Will you oblige me with your address, doctor?" said the agent.
+
+"Dr. Staines, Morley's Hotel."
+
+And so they left Mayfair.
+
+Rosa sighed and said, "Oh, the nice little place; and we have lost
+it for two hundred pounds."
+
+"Two hundred pounds is a great deal for us to throw away."
+
+"Being near the Coles would soon have made that up to you: and such
+a cosey little nest."
+
+"Well the house will not run away."
+
+"But somebody is sure to snap it up.  It is a Bijou."  She was
+disappointed, and half inclined to pout.  But she vented her
+feelings in a letter to her beloved Florry, and appeared at dinner
+as sweet as usual.
+
+During dinner a note came from the agent, accepting Dr. Staine's
+offer.  He glozed the matter thus: he had persuaded the owner it
+was better to take a good tenant at a moderate loss, than to let
+the Bijou be uninhabited during the present rainy season.  An
+assignment of the lease--which contained the usual covenants--would
+be prepared immediately, and Dr. Staines could have possession in
+forty-eight hours, by paying the premium.
+
+Rosa was delighted, and as soon as dinner was over, and the waiters
+gone, she came and kissed Christopher.
+
+He smiled, and said, "Well, you are pleased; that is the principal
+thing.  I have saved two hundred pounds, and that is something.  It
+will go towards furnishing."
+
+"La! yes," said Rosa, "I forgot.  We shall have to get furniture
+now.  How nice!"  It was a pleasure the man of forecast could have
+willingly dispensed with; but he smiled at her, and they discussed
+furniture, and Christopher, whose retentive memory had picked up a
+little of everything, said there were wholesale upholsterers in the
+City who sold cheaper than the West-end houses, and he thought the
+best way was to measure the rooms in the Bijou, and go to the city
+with a clear idea of what they wanted; ask the prices of various
+necessary articles, and then make a list, and demand a discount of
+fifteen per cent on the whole order, being so considerable, and
+paid for in cash.
+
+Rosa acquiesced, and told Christopher he was the cleverest man in
+England.
+
+About nine o'clock Mrs. Cole came in to condole with her friend,
+and heard the good news.  When Rosa told her how they thought of
+furnishing, she said, "Oh no, you must not do that; you will pay
+double for everything.  That is the mistake Johnnie and I made; and
+after that a friend of mine took me to the auction-rooms, and I saw
+everything sold--oh, such bargains; half, and less than half, their
+value.  She has furnished her house almost entirely from sales, and
+she has the loveliest things in the world--such ducks of tables,
+and jardinieres, and things; and beautiful rare china--her house
+swarms with it--for an old song.  A sale is the place.  And then so
+amusing."
+
+"Yes, but," said Christopher, "I should not like my wife to
+encounter a public room."
+
+"Not alone, of course; but with me.  La! Dr. Staines, they are too
+full of buying and selling to trouble their heads about us."
+
+"Oh, Christopher, do let me go with her.  Am I always to be a
+child?"
+
+Thus appealed to before a stranger, Staines replied warmly, "No,
+dearest, no; you cannot please me better than by beginning life in
+earnest.  If you two ladies together can face an auction-room, go
+by all means; only I must ask you not to buy china or ormulu, or
+anything that will break or spoil, but only solid, good furniture."
+
+"Won't you come with us?"
+
+"No; or you might feel yourself in leading-strings.  Remember the
+Bijou is a small house; choose your furniture to fit it, and then
+we shall save something by its being so small."
+
+This was Wednesday.  There was a weekly sale in Oxford Street on
+Fridays; and the ladies made the appointment accordingly.
+
+Next day, after breakfast, Christopher was silent and thoughtful
+awhile, and at last said to Rosa, "I'll show you I don't look on
+you as a child; I'll consult you in a delicate matter."
+
+Rosa's eyes sparkled.
+
+"It is about my Uncle Philip.  He has been very cruel; he has
+wounded me deeply; he has wounded me through my wife.  I never
+thought he would refuse to come to our marriage."
+
+"And did he?  You never showed me his letter."
+
+"You were not my wife then.  I kept an affront from you; but now,
+you see, I keep nothing."
+
+"Dear Christie!"
+
+"I am so happy, I have got over that sting--almost; and the memory
+of many kind acts comes back to me; and I don't know what to do.
+It seems ungrateful not to visit him--it seems almost mean to
+call."
+
+"I'll tell you; take me to see him directly.  He won't hate us
+forever, if he sees us often.  We may as well begin at once.
+Nobody hates me long."
+
+Christopher was proud of his wife's courage and wisdom.  He kissed
+her, begged her to put on the plainest dress she could, and they
+went together to call on Uncle Philip.
+
+When they got to his house in Gloucester Place, Portman Square,
+Rosa's heart began to quake, and she was right glad when the
+servant said "Not at home."
+
+They left their cards and address; and she persuaded Christopher to
+take her to the sale-room to see the things.
+
+A lot of brokers were there, like vultures; and one after another
+stepped forward and pestered them to employ him in the morning.
+Dr. Staines declined their services civilly but firmly, and he and
+Rosa looked over a quantity of furniture, and settled what sort of
+things to buy.
+
+Another broker came up, and whenever the couple stopped before an
+article, proceeded to praise it as something most extraordinary.
+Staines listened in cold, satirical silence, and told his wife, in
+French, to do the same.  Notwithstanding their marked disgust, the
+impudent, intrusive fellow stuck to them, and forced his venal
+criticism on them, and made them uncomfortable, and shortened their
+tour of observation.
+
+"I think I shall come with you to-morrow," said Christopher, "or I
+shall have these blackguards pestering you."
+
+"Oh, Florry will send them to the right-about.  She is as brave as
+a lion."
+
+Next day Dr. Staines was sent for into the City at twelve to pay
+the money and receive the lease of the Bijou, and this and the
+taking possession occupied him till four o'clock, when he came to
+his hotel.
+
+Meantime, his wife and Mrs. Cole had gone to the auction-room.
+
+It was a large room, with a good sprinkling of people, but not
+crowded except about the table.  At the head of this table--full
+twenty feet long--was the auctioneer's pulpit, and the lots were
+brought in turn to the other end of the table for sight and sale.
+
+"We must try and get a seat," said the enterprising Mrs. Cole, and
+pushed boldly in; the timid Rosa followed strictly in her wake, and
+so evaded the human waves her leader clove.  They were importuned
+at every step by brokers thrusting catalogues on them, with offers
+of their services, yet they soon got to the table.  A gentleman
+resigned one chair, a broker another, and they were seated.
+
+Mrs. Staines let down half her veil, but Mrs. Cole surveyed the
+company point-blank.
+
+The broker who had given up his seat, and now stood behind Rosa,
+offered her his catalogue.  "No, thank you," said Rosa; "I have
+one;" and she produced it, and studied it, yet managed to look
+furtively at the company.
+
+There were not above a dozen private persons visible from where
+Rosa sat; perhaps as many more in the whole room.  They were easily
+distinguishable by their cleanly appearance: the dealers, male or
+female, were more or less rusty, greasy, dirty, aquiline.  Not even
+the amateurs were brightly dressed; that fundamental error was
+confined to Mesdames Cole and Staines.  The experienced, however
+wealthy, do not hunt bargains in silk and satin.
+
+The auctioneer called "Lot 7.  Four saucepans, two trays, a kettle,
+a bootjack, and a towel-horse."
+
+These were put up at two shillings, and speedily knocked down for
+five to a fat old woman in a greasy velvet jacket; blind industry
+had sewed bugles on it, not artfully, but agriculturally.
+
+"The lady on the left!" said the auctioneer to his clerk.  That
+meant "Get the money."
+
+The old lady plunged a huge paw into a huge pocket, and pulled out
+a huge handful of coin--copper, silver, and gold--and paid for the
+lot; and Rosa surveyed her dirty hands and nails with innocent
+dismay.  "Oh, what a dreadful creature!" she whispered; "and what
+can she want with those old rubbishy things?  I saw a hole in one
+from here."  The broker overheard, and said, "She is a dealer,
+ma'am, and the things were given away.  She'll sell them for a
+guinea, easy."
+
+"Didn't I tell you?" said Mrs. Cole.
+
+Soon after this the superior lots came on, and six very neat
+bedroom chairs were sold to all appearance for fifteen shillings.
+
+The next lot was identical, and Rosa hazarded a bid,--"Sixteen
+shillings."
+
+Instantly some dealer, one of the hook-nosed that gathered round
+each lot as it came to the foot of the table, cried "Eighteen
+shillings."
+
+"Nineteen," said Rosa.
+
+"A guinea," said the dealer.
+
+"Don't let it go," said the broker behind her.  "Don't let it go,
+ma'am."
+
+She colored at the intrusion, and left off bidding directly, and
+addressed herself to Mrs. Cole.  "Why should I give so much, when
+the last were sold for fifteen shillings?"
+
+The real reason was that the first lot was not bid for at all,
+except by the proprietor.  However, the broker gave her a very
+different solution; he said, "The trade always run up a lady or a
+gentleman.  Let me bid for you; they won't run me up; they know
+better."
+
+Rosa did not reply, but looked at Mrs. Cole.
+
+"Yes, dear," said that lady; "you had much better let him bid for
+you."
+
+"Very well," said Rosa; "you can bid for this chest of drawers--lot
+25."
+
+When lot 25 came on, the broker bid in the silliest possible way,
+if his object had been to get a bargain.  He began to bid early and
+ostentatiously; the article was protected by somebody or other
+there present, who now of course saw his way clear; he ran it up
+audaciously, and it was purchased for Rosa at about the price it
+could have been bought for at a shop.
+
+The next thing she wanted was a set of oak chairs.
+
+They went up to twenty-eight pounds; then she said, "I shall give
+no more, sir."
+
+"Better not lose them," said the agent; "they are a great bargain;"
+and bid another pound for her on his own responsibility.
+
+They were still run up, and Rosa peremptorily refused to give any
+more.  She lost them, accordingly, by good luck.  Her faithful
+broker looked blank; so did the proprietor.
+
+But, as the sale proceeded, she being young, the competition,
+though most of it sham, being artful and exciting, and the traitor
+she employed constantly puffing every article, she was drawn in to
+wishing for things, and bidding by her feelings.
+
+Then her traitor played a game that has been played a hundred
+times, and the perpetrators never once lynched, as they ought to
+be, on the spot.  He signalled a confederate with a hooked nose;
+the Jew rascal bid against the Christian scoundrel, and so they ran
+up the more enticing things to twice their value under the hammer.
+
+Rosa got flushed, and her eye gleamed like a gambler's, and she
+bought away like wildfire.  In which sport she caught sight of an
+old gentleman, with little black eyes that kept twinkling at her.
+
+She complained of these eyes to Mrs. Cole.  "Why does he twinkle
+so?  I can see it is at me.  I am doing something foolish--I know I
+am."
+
+Mrs. Cole turned, and fixed a haughty stare on the old gentleman.
+Would you believe it? instead of sinking through the floor, he sat
+his ground, and retorted with a cold, clear grin.
+
+But now, whenever Rosa's agent bid for her, and the other man of
+straw against him, the black eyes twinkled, and Rosa's courage
+began to ooze away.  At last she said, "That is enough for one day.
+I shall go.  Who could bear those eyes?"
+
+The broker took her address; so did the auctioneer's clerk.  The
+auctioneer asked her for no deposit; her beautiful, innocent, and
+high-bred face was enough for a man who was always reading faces,
+and interpreting them.
+
+And so they retired.
+
+But this charming sex is like that same auctioneer's hammer, it
+cannot go abruptly.  It is always going--going--going--a long time
+before it is gone.  I think it would perhaps loiter at the door of
+a jail, with the order of release in its hand, after six years'
+confinement.  Getting up to go quenches in it the desire to go.  So
+these ladies having got up to go, turned and lingered, and hung
+fire so long, that at last another set of oak chairs came up.  "Oh!
+I must see what these go for," said Rosa, at the door.
+
+The bidding was mighty languid now Rosa's broker was not
+stimulating it; and the auctioneer was just knocking down twelve
+chairs--oak and leather--and two arm-chairs, for twenty pounds,
+when, casting his eyes around, he caught sight of Rosa looking at
+him rather excited.  He looked inquiringly at her.  She nodded
+slightly; he knocked them down to her at twenty guineas, and they
+were really a great bargain.
+
+"Twenty-two," cried the dealer.
+
+"Too late," said the auctioneer.
+
+"I spoke with the hammer, sir."
+
+"After the hammer, Isaacs."
+
+"Shelp me God, we was together."
+
+One or two more of his tribe confirmed this pious falsehood, and
+clamored to have them put up again.
+
+"Call the next lot," said the auctioneer, peremptorily.  "Make up
+your mind a little quicker next time, Mr. Isaacs; you have been
+long enough at it to know the value of oak and moroccar."
+
+Mrs. Staines and her friend now started for Morley's Hotel, but
+went round by Regent Street, whereby they got glued at Peter
+Robinson's window, and nine other windows; and it was nearly five
+o'clock when they reached Morley's.  As they came near the door of
+their sitting-room, Mrs. Staines heard somebody laughing and
+talking to her husband.  The laugh, to her subtle ears, did not
+sound musical and genial, but keen, satirical, unpleasant; so it
+was with some timidity she opened the door, and there sat the old
+chap with the twinkling eyes.  Both parties stared at each other a
+moment.
+
+"Why, it is them," cried the old gentleman.  "Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!"
+
+Rosa colored all over, and felt guilty somehow, and looked
+miserable.
+
+"Rosa dear," said Dr. Staines, "this is our Uncle Philip."
+
+"Oh!" said Rosa, and turned red and pale by turns; for she had a
+great desire to propitiate Uncle Philip.
+
+"You were in the auction-room, sir?" said Mrs. Cole, severely.
+
+"I was, madam.  He! he!"
+
+"Furnishing a house?"
+
+"No, ma'am.  I go to a dozen sales a week; but it is not to buy--I
+enjoy the humors.  Did you ever hear of Robert Burton, ma'am?"
+
+"No.  Yes; a great traveller, isn't he?  Discovered the Nile--or
+the Niger--or SOMETHING?"
+
+This majestic vagueness staggered old Crusty at first, but he
+recovered his equilibrium, and said, "Why, yes, now I think of it,
+you are right; he has travelled farther than most of us, for about
+two centuries ago he visited that bourn whence no traveller
+returns.  Well, when he was alive--he was a student of
+Christchurch--he used to go down to a certain bridge over the Isis
+and enjoy the chaff of the bargemen.  Now there are no bargemen
+left to speak of; the mantle of Bobby Burton's bargees has fallen
+on the Jews and demi-semi-Christians that buy and sell furniture at
+the weekly auctions; thither I repair to hear what little coarse
+wit is left us.  Used to go to the House of Commons; but they are
+getting too civil by half for my money.  Besides, characters come
+out in an auction.  For instance, only this very day I saw two
+ladies enter, in gorgeous attire, like heifers decked for
+sacrifice, and reduce their spoliation to a certainty by employing
+a broker to bid.  Now, what is a broker?  A fellow who is to be
+paid a shilling in the pound for all articles purchased.  What is
+his interest, then?  To buy cheap?  Clearly not.  He is paid in
+proportion to the dearness of the article."
+
+Rosa's face began to work piteously.
+
+"Accordingly, what did the broker in question do?  He winked to
+another broker, and these two bid against one another, over their
+victim's head, and ran everything she wanted up at least a hundred
+per cent above the value.  So open and transparent a swindle I have
+seldom seen, even in an auction-room.  Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!"
+
+His mirth was interrupted by Rosa going to her husband, hiding her
+head on his shoulder, and meekly crying.
+
+Christopher comforted her like a man.  "Don't you cry, darling,"
+said he; "how should a pure creature like you know the badness of
+the world all in a moment?  If it is my wife you are laughing at,
+Uncle Philip, let me tell you this is the wrong place.  I'd rather
+a thousand times have her as she is, than armed with the cunning
+and suspicions of a hardened old worldling like you."
+
+"With all my heart," said Uncle Philip, who, to do him justice,
+could take blows as well as give them; "but why employ a broker?
+Why pay a scoundrel five per cent to make you pay a hundred per
+cent?  Why pay a noisy fool a farthing to open his mouth for you
+when you have taken the trouble to be there yourself, and have got
+a mouth of your own to bid discreetly with?  Was ever such an
+absurdity?"  He began to get angry.
+
+"Do you want to quarrel with me, Uncle Philip?" said Christopher,
+firing up; "because sneering at my Rosa is the way, and the only
+way, and the sure way."
+
+"Oh, no," said Rosa, interposing.  "Uncle Philip was right.  I am
+very foolish and inexperienced, but I am not so vain as to turn
+from good advice.  I will never employ a broker again, sir."
+
+Uncle Philip smiled and looked pleased.
+
+Mrs. Cole caused a diversion by taking leave, and Rosa followed her
+down-stairs.  On her return she found Christopher telling his uncle
+all about the Bijou, and how he had taken it for a hundred and
+thirty pounds a year and a hundred pounds premium, and Uncle Philip
+staring fearfully.
+
+At last he found his tongue.  "The Bijou!" said he.  "Why, that is
+a name they gave to a little den in Dear Street, Mayfair.  You
+haven't ever been and taken THAT!  Built over a mews."
+
+Christopher groaned.  "That is the place, I fear."
+
+"Why the owner is a friend of mine; an old patient.  Stables stunk
+him out.  Let it to a man; I forget his name.  Stables stunk HIM
+out.  He said, 'I shall go.'  'You can't,' said my friend; 'you
+have taken a lease.'  'Lease be d--d,' said the other; 'I never
+took YOUR house; here's quite a large stench not specified in your
+description of the property--IT CAN'T BE THE SAME PLACE;' flung the
+lease at his head, and cut like the wind to foreign parts less
+odoriferous.  I'd have got you the hole for ninety; but you are
+like your wife--you must go to an agent.  What! don't you know that
+an agent is a man acting for you with an interest opposed to yours?
+Employing an agent! it is like a Trojan seeking the aid of a Greek.
+You needn't cry, Mrs. Staines; your husband has been let in deeper
+than you have.  Now, you are young people beginning life; I'll give
+you a piece of advice.  Employ others to do what you can't do, and
+it must be done; but never to do anything you can do better for
+yourselves!  Agent!  The word is derived from a Latin word 'agere,'
+to do; and agents act up to their etymology, for they invariably DO
+the nincompoop that employs them, or deals with them, in any mortal
+way.  I'd have got you that beastly little Bijou for ninety pounds
+a year."
+
+Uncle Philip went away crusty, leaving the young couple finely
+mortified and discouraged.
+
+That did not last very long.  Christopher noted the experience and
+Uncle Phil's wisdom in his diary, and then took his wife on his
+knee, and comforted her, and said, "Never mind; experience is worth
+money, and it always has to be bought.  Those who cheat us will die
+poorer than we shall, if we are honest and economical.  I have
+observed that people are seldom ruined by the vices of others;
+these may hurt them, of course; but it is only their own faults and
+follies that can destroy them."
+
+"Ah! Christie," said Rosa, "you are a man!  Oh, the comfort of
+being married to A MAN.  A man sees the best side.  I do adore men.
+Dearest, I will waste no more of your money.  I will go to no more
+sales."
+
+Christopher saw she was deeply mortified, and he said, quietly, "On
+the contrary, you will go to the very next.  Only take Uncle
+Philip's advice, employ no broker; and watch the prices things
+fetch when you are not bidding; and keep cool."
+
+She caressed his ears with both her white hands, and thanked him
+for giving her another trial.  So that trouble melted in the
+sunshine of conjugal love.
+
+Notwithstanding the agent's solemn assurance, the Bijou was out of
+repair.  Dr. Staines detected internal odors, as well as those that
+flowed in from the mews.  He was not the man to let his wife perish
+by miasma; so he had the drains all up, and actually found brick
+drains, and a cesspool.  He stopped that up, and laid down new pipe
+drains, with a good fall, and properly trapped.  The old drains
+were hidden, after the manner of builders.  He had the whole course
+of his new drains marked upon all the floors they passed under, and
+had several stones and boards hinged to facilitate examination at
+any period.
+
+But all this, with the necessary cleaning, whitewashing, painting,
+and papering, ran away with money.  Then came Rosa's purchases,
+which, to her amazement, amounted to one hundred and ninety pounds,
+and not a carpet, curtain, or bed amongst the lot.  Then there was
+the carriage home from the auction-room, an expense one avoids by
+buying at a shop, and the broker claimed his shilling in the pound.
+This, however, Staines refused.  The man came and blustered.  Rosa,
+who was there, trembled.  Then, for the first time, she saw her
+husband's brow lower; he seemed transfigured, and looked terrible.
+"You scoundrel," said he, "you set another villain like yourself to
+bid against you, and you betrayed the innocent lady that employed
+you.  I could indict you and your confederate for a conspiracy.  I
+take the goods out of respect for my wife's credit, but you shall
+gain nothing by swindling her.  Be off, you heartless miscreant, or
+I'll"--
+
+"I'll take the law, if you do."
+
+"Take it, then!  I'll give you something to howl for;" and he
+seized him with a grasp so tremendous that the fellow cried out in
+dismay, "Oh! don't hit me, sir; pray don't."
+
+On this abject appeal, Staines tore the door open with his left
+hand, and spun the broker out into the passage with his right.  Two
+movements of this angry Hercules, and the man was literally whirled
+out of sight with a rapidity and swiftness almost ludicrous; it was
+like a trick in a pantomime.  A clatter on the stairs betrayed that
+he had gone down the first few steps in a wholesale and irregular
+manner, though he had just managed to keep his feet.
+
+As for Staines, he stood there still lowering like thunder, and his
+eyes like hot coals; but his wife threw her tender arms around him,
+and begged him consolingly not to mind.
+
+She was trembling like an aspen.
+
+"Dear me," said Christopher, with a ludicrous change to marked
+politeness and respect, "I forgot YOU, in my righteous
+indignation."  Next he became uxorious.  "Did they frighten her, a
+duck?  Sit on my knee, darling, and pull my hair, for not being
+more considerate--there! there!"
+
+This was followed by the whole absurd soothing process, as
+practised by manly husbands upon quivering and somewhat hysterical
+wives, and ended with a formal apology.  "You must not think that I
+am passionate; on the contrary, I am always practising self-
+government.  My maxim is, Animum rege qui nisi paret imperat, and
+that means, Make your temper your servant, or else it will be your
+master.  But to ill-use my dear little wife--it is unnatural, it is
+monstrous, it makes my blood boil."
+
+"Oh, dear! don't go into another.  It is all over.  I can't bear to
+see you in a passion; you are so terrible, so beautiful.  Ah! they
+are fine things, courage and strength.  There's nothing I admire so
+much."
+
+"Why, they are as common as dirt.  What I admire is modesty,
+timidity, sweetness; the sensitive cheek that pales or blushes at a
+word, the bosom that quivers, and clings to a fellow whenever
+anything goes wrong."
+
+"Oh, that is what you admire, is it?" said Rosa dryly.
+
+"Admire it?" said Christopher, not seeing the trap; "I adore it."
+
+"Then, Christie, dear, you are a Simpleton, that is all.  And we
+are made for one another."
+
+The house was to be furnished and occupied as soon as possible; so
+Mrs. Staines and Mrs. Cole went to another sale-room.  Mrs. Staines
+remembered all Uncle Philip had said, and went plainly dressed; but
+her friend declined to sacrifice her showy dress to her friend's
+interests.  Rosa thought that a little unkind, but said nothing.
+
+In this auction-room they easily got a place at the table, but did
+not find it heaven; for a number of secondhand carpets were in the
+sale, and these, brimful of dust, were all shown on the table, and
+the dirt choked, and poisoned our fair friends.  Brokers pestered
+them, until at last Rosa, smarting under her late exposure,
+addressed the auctioneer quietly, in her silvery tones: "Sir, these
+gentlemen are annoying me by forcing their services on me.  I do
+not intend to buy at all unless I can be allowed to bid for
+myself."
+
+When Rosa, blushing and amazed at her own boldness, uttered these
+words, she little foresaw their effect.  She had touched a popular
+sore.
+
+"You are quite right, madam," said a respectable tradesman opposite
+her.  "What business have these dirty fellows, without a shilling
+in their pockets, to go and force themselves on a lady against her
+will?"
+
+"It has been complained of in the papers again and again," said
+another.
+
+"What! mayn't we live as well as you?" retorted a broker.
+
+"Yes, but not to force yourself on a lady.  Why, she'd give you in
+charge of the police if you tried it on outside."
+
+Then there was a downright clamor of discussion and chaff.
+
+Presently up rises very slowly a countryman so colossal, that it
+seemed as if he would never have done getting up, and gives his
+experiences.  He informed the company, in a broad Yorkshire
+dialect, that he did a bit in furniture, and at first starting
+these brokers buzzed about him like flies, and pestered him.  "Aah
+damned 'em pretty hard," said he, "but they didn't heed any.  So
+then ah spoke 'em civil, and ah said, 'Well, lads, I dinna come fra
+Yorkshire to sit like a dummy and let you buy wi' my brass; the
+first that pesters me again ah'll just fell him on t' plaace, like
+a caulf, and ah'm not very sure he'll get up again in a hurry.'  So
+they dropped me like a hot potato; never pestered me again.  But if
+they won't give over pestering you, mistress, ah'll come round and
+just stand behind your chair, and bring nieve with me," showing a
+fist like a leg of mutton.
+
+"No, no," said the auctioneer, "that will not do.  I will have no
+disturbance here.  Call the policeman."
+
+While the clerk went to the door for the bobby, a gentleman
+reminded the auctioneer that the journals had repeatedly drawn
+attention to the nuisance.
+
+"Fault of the public, not mine, sir.  Policeman, stand behind that
+lady's chair, and if anybody annoys her put him quietly into the
+street."
+
+"This auction-room will be to let soon," said a voice at the end of
+the table.
+
+"This auction-room," said the auctioneer, master of the gay or
+grave at a moment's notice, "is supported by the public and the
+trade; it is not supported by paupers."
+
+A Jew upholsterer put in his word.  "I do my own business; but I
+like to let a poor man live."
+
+"Jonathan," said the auctioneer to one of his servants, "after this
+sale you may put up the shutters; we have gone and offended Mr.
+Jacobs.  He keeps a shop in Blind Alley, Whitechapel.  Now then,
+lot 69."
+
+Rosa bid timidly for one or two lots, and bought them cheap.
+
+The auctioneer kept looking her way, and she had only to nod.
+
+The obnoxious broker got opposite her, and ran her up a little out
+of spite; but as he had only got half a crown about him, and no
+means of doubling it, he dared not go far.
+
+On the other side of the table was a figure to which Rosa's eyes
+often turned with interest--a fair young boy about twelve years
+old; he had golden hair, and was in deep mourning.  His appearance
+interested Rosa, and she wondered how he came there, and why; he
+looked like a lamb wedged in among wolves, a flower among weeds.
+As the lots proceeded, the boy seemed to get uneasy; and at last,
+when lot '73 was put up, anybody could see in his poor little face
+that he was there to bid for it.
+
+"Lot '73, an armchair covered in morocco.  An excellent and useful
+article.  Should not be at all surprised if it was made by Gillow."
+
+"Gillow would though," said Jacobs, who owed him a turn.
+
+Chorus of dealers.--"Haw! haw!"
+
+The auctioneer.--"I like to hear some people run a lot down; shows
+they are going to bid for it in earnest.  Well, name your own
+price.  Five pounds to begin?"
+
+Now if nobody had spoken the auctioneer would have gone on, "Well,
+four pounds then--three, two, whatever you like," and at last
+obtained a bona fide offer of thirty shillings; but the moment he
+said "Five pounds to begin," the boy in black lifted up his
+childish treble and bid thus, "Five pound ten"--"six pounds"--"six
+pound ten"--"seven pounds"--"seven pound ten"--"eight pounds"--
+"eight pound ten"--"nine pounds"--"nine pound ten"--"ten pounds!"
+without interruption, and indeed almost in a breath.
+
+There was a momentary pause of amazement, and then an outburst of
+chaff.
+
+"Nice little boy!"
+
+"Didn't he say his lesson well?"
+
+"Favor us with your card, sir.  You are a gent as knows how to
+buy."
+
+"What did he stop for?  If it's worth ten, it is worth a hundred."
+
+"Bless the child!" said a female dealer, kindly, "what made you go
+on like that?  Why, there was no one bid against you! you'd have
+got it for two pounds--a rickety old thing."
+
+Young master began to whimper.  "Why, the gentleman said, 'Five
+pounds to BEGIN.'  It was the chair poor grandpapa always sat in,
+and all the things are sold, and mamma said it would break her
+heart to lose it.  She was too ill to come, so she sent me.  She
+told me I was not to let it be sold away from us for less than ten
+pounds, or she sh--should be m--m--miserable," and the poor little
+fellow began to cry.  Rosa followed suit promptly but unobtrusively.
+
+"Sentiment always costs money," said Mr. Jacobs, gravely.
+
+"How do you know?" asked Mr. Cohen.  "Have YOU got any on hand?  I
+never seen none at your shop."
+
+Some tempting things now came up, and Mrs. Staines bid freely; but
+all of a sudden she looked down the table, and there was Uncle
+Philip, twinkling as before.  "Oh, dear! what am I doing now!"
+thought she.  "I have got no broker."
+
+She bid on, but in fear and trembling, because of those twinkling
+eyes.  At last she mustered courage, wrote on a leaf of her pocket-
+book, and passed it down to him: "It would be only kind to warn me.
+What am I doing wrong?"
+
+He sent her back a line directly: "Auctioneer running you up
+himself.  Follow his eye when he bids; you will see there is no
+bona fide bidder at your prices."
+
+Rosa did so, and found that it was true.
+
+She nodded to Uncle Philip; and, with her expressive face, asked
+him what she should do.
+
+The old boy must have his joke.  So he wrote back: "Tell him, as
+you see he has a fancy for certain articles, you would not be so
+discourteous as to bid against him."
+
+The next article but one was a drawing-room suite Rosa wanted; but
+the auctioneer bid against her; so at eighteen pounds she stopped.
+
+"It is against you, madam," said the auctioneer.
+
+"Yes, sir," said Rosa; "but as you are the only bidder, and you
+have been so kind to me, I would not think of opposing you."
+
+The words were scarcely out of her mouth, when they were greeted
+with a roar of Homeric laughter that literally shook the room, and
+this time not at the expense of the innocent speaker.
+
+"That's into your mutton, governor."
+
+"Sharp's the word this time."
+
+"I say, governor, don't you want a broker to bid for ye?"
+
+"Wink at me next time, sir; I'll do the office for you."
+
+"No greenhorns left now."
+
+"That lady won't give a ten-pund note for her grandfather's
+armchair."
+
+"Oh, yes, she will, if it's stuffed with banknotes."
+
+"Put the next lot up with the owner's name and the reserve price.
+Open business."
+
+"And sing a psalm at starting."
+
+"A little less noise in Judaea, if you please," said the
+auctioneer, who had now recovered from the blow.  "Lot 97."
+
+This was a very pretty marqueterie cabinet; it stood against the
+wall, and Rosa had set her heart upon it.  Nobody would bid.  She
+had muzzled the auctioneer effectually.
+
+"Your own price."
+
+"Two pounds," said Rosa.
+
+A dealer offered guineas; and it advanced slowly to four pounds and
+half a crown, at which it was about to be knocked down to Rosa,
+when suddenly a new bidder arose in the broker Rosa had rejected.
+They bid slowly and sturdily against each other, until a line was
+given to Rosa from Uncle Philip.
+
+"This time it is your own friend, the snipe-nosed woman.  She
+telegraphed a broker."
+
+Rosa read, and crushed the note.  "Six guineas," said she.
+
+"Six-ten."
+
+"Seven."
+
+"Seven-ten."
+
+"Eight."
+
+"Eight-ten."
+
+"Ten guineas," said Rosa; and then, with feminine cunning, stealing
+a sudden glance, caught her friend leaning back and signalling the
+broker not to give in.
+
+"Eleven pounds."
+
+"Twelve."
+
+"Thirteen."
+
+"Fourteen."
+
+"Sixteen."
+
+"Eighteen."
+
+"Twenty."
+
+"Twenty guineas."
+
+"It is yours, my faithful friend," said Rosa, turning suddenly
+round to Mrs. Cole, with a magnificent glance no one would have
+thought her capable of.
+
+Then she rose and stalked away.
+
+Dumfounded for the moment, Mrs. Cole followed her, and stopped her
+at the door.
+
+"Why, Rosie dear, it is the only thing I have bid for.  There I've
+sat by your side like a mouse."
+
+Rosa turned gravely towards her.  "You know it is not that.  You
+had only to tell me you wanted it.  I would never have been so mean
+as to bid against you."
+
+"Mean, indeed!" said.  Florence, tossing her head.
+
+"Yes, mean; to draw back and hide behind the friend you were with,
+and employ the very rogue she had turned off.  But it is my own
+fault.  Cecilia warned me against you.  She always said you were a
+treacherous girl."
+
+"And I say you are an impudent little minx.  Only just married, and
+going about like two vagabonds, and talk to me like that!"
+
+"We are not going about like two vagabonds.  We have taken a house
+in Mayfair."
+
+"Say a stable."
+
+"It was by your advice, you false-hearted creature."
+
+"You are a fool."
+
+"You are worse; you are a traitress."
+
+"Then don't you have anything to do with me."
+
+"Heaven forbid I should, you treacherous thing!"
+
+"You insolent--insolent--I hate you."
+
+"And I despise you."
+
+"I always hated you at bottom."
+
+"That's why you pretended to love me, you wretch."
+
+"Well, I pretend no more.  I am your enemy for life."
+
+"Thank you.  You have told the truth for once in your life."
+
+"I have.  And he shall never call in your husband; so you may leave
+Mayfair as soon as you like."
+
+"Not to please you, madam.  We can get on without traitors."
+
+And so they parted, with eyes that gleamed like tigers.
+
+Rosa drove home in great agitation, and tried to tell Christopher;
+but choked, and became hysterical.  The husband-physician coaxed
+and scolded her out of that; and presently in came Uncle Philip,
+full of the humors of the auction-room.  He told about the little
+boy with a delight that disgusted Mrs. Staines, and then was
+particularly merry on female friendships.  "Fancy a man going to a
+sale with his friend, and bidding against him on the sly."
+
+"She is no friend of mine.  We are enemies for life."
+
+"And you were to be friends till death," said Staines, with a sigh.
+
+Philip inquired who she was.
+
+"Mrs. John Cole."
+
+"Not of Curzon Street?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And you have quarrelled with her?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, but her husband is a general practitioner."
+
+"She is a traitress."
+
+"But her husband could put a good deal of money in Christopher's
+way."
+
+"I can't help it.  She is a traitress."
+
+"And you have quarrelled with her about an old wardrobe."
+
+"No, for her disloyalty, and her base good-for-nothingness.  Oh!
+oh! oh!"
+
+Uncle Philip got up, looking sour.  "Good afternoon, Mrs.
+Christopher," said he, very dryly.
+
+Christopher accompanied him to the foot of the stairs.  "Well,
+Christopher," said he, "matrimony is a blunder at the best; and you
+have not done the thing by halves.  You have married a simpleton.
+She will be your ruin."
+
+"Uncle Philip, since you only come here to insult us, I hope in
+future you will stay at home."
+
+"Oh! with pleasure, sir.  Good-by!"
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Christopher Staines came back, looking pained and disturbed.
+"There," said he, "I feared it would come to this.  I have
+quarrelled with Uncle Philip."
+
+"Oh! how could you?"
+
+"He affronted me."
+
+"What about?"
+
+"Never you mind.  Don't let us say anything more about it, darling.
+It is a pity, a sad pity--he was a good friend of mine once."
+
+He paused, entered what had passed in his diary, and then sat down,
+with a gentle expression of sadness on his manly features.  Rosa
+hung about him, soft and pitying, till it cleared away, at all
+events for the time.
+
+Next day they went together to clear the goods Rosa had purchased.
+Whilst the list was being made out in the office, in came the fair-
+haired boy, with a ten-pound note in his very hand.  Rosa caught
+sight of it, and turned to the auctioneer, with a sweet, pitying
+face:
+
+"Oh! sir, surely you will not take all that money from him, poor
+child, for a rickety old chair."
+
+The auctioneer stared with amazement at her simplicity, and said,
+"What would the vendors say to me?"
+
+She looked distressed, and said, "Well, then, really we ought to
+raise a subscription, poor thing!"
+
+"Why, ma'am," said the auctioneer, "he isn't hurt: the article
+belonged to his mother and her sister; the brother-in-law isn't on
+good terms; so he demanded a public sale.  She will get back four
+pun ten out of it."  Here the clerk put in his word.  "And there's
+five pounds paid, I forgot to tell you."
+
+"Oh! left a deposit, did he?"
+
+"No, sir.  But the laughing hyena gave you five pounds at the end
+of the sale."
+
+"The laughing hyena, Mr. Jones?"
+
+"Oh! beg pardon; that is what we call him in the room.  He has got
+such a curious laugh."
+
+"Oh! I know the gent.  He is a retired doctor.  I wish he'd laugh
+less and buy more: and HE gave you five pounds towards the young
+gentleman's arm-chair!  Well, I should as soon have expected blood
+from a flint.  You have got five pounds to pay, sir: so now the
+chair will cost your mamma ten shillings.  Give him the order and
+the change, Mr. Jones."
+
+Christopher and Rosa talked this over in the room whilst the men
+were looking out their purchases.  "Come," said Rosa; "now I
+forgive him sneering at me; his heart is not really hard, you see."
+Staines, on the contrary, was very angry.  "What!" he cried, pity a
+boy who made one bad bargain, that, after all, was not a very bad
+bargain; and he had no kindness, nor even common humanity, for my
+beautiful Rosa, inexperienced as a child, and buying for her
+husband, like a good, affectionate, honest creature, amongst a lot
+of sharpers and hard-hearted cynics--like himself."
+
+"It WAS cruel of him," said Rosa, altering her mind in a moment,
+and half inclined to cry.
+
+This made Christopher furious.  "The ill-natured, crotchety, old--
+the fact is, he is a misogynist."
+
+"Oh, the wretch!" said Rosa warmly.  "And what is that?"
+
+"A woman-hater."
+
+"Oh! is that all?  Why, so do I--after that Florence Cole.  Women
+are mean, heartless things.  Give me men; they are loyal and true."
+
+"All of them?" inquired Christopher, a little satirically.  "Read
+the papers."
+
+"Every soul of them," said Mrs. Staines, passing loftily over the
+proposed test.  "That is, all the ones I care about; and that is my
+own, own one."
+
+Disagreeable creatures to have about one--these simpletons!
+
+Mrs. Staines took Christopher to shops to buy the remaining
+requisites: and in three days more the house was furnished, two
+female servants engaged, and the couple took their luggage over to
+the Bijou.
+
+Rosa was excited and happy at the novelty of possession and
+authority, and that close sense of house proprietorship which
+belongs to woman.  By dinner-time she could have told you how many
+shelves there were in every cupboard, and knew the Bijou by heart
+in a way that Christopher never knew it.  All this ended, as
+running about and excitement generally does, with my lady being
+exhausted, and lax with fatigue.  So then he made her lie down on a
+little couch, while he went through his accounts.
+
+When he had examined all the bills carefully he looked very grave,
+and said, "Who would believe this?  We began with three thousand
+pounds.  It was to last us several years--till I got a good
+practice.  Rosa, there is only fourteen hundred and forty pounds
+left."
+
+"Oh, impossible!" said Rosa.  "Oh, dear! why did I ever enter a
+saleroom?"
+
+"No, no, my darling; you were bitten once or twice, but you made
+some good bargains too.  Remember there was four hundred pounds set
+apart for my life policy."
+
+"What a waste of money!"
+
+"Your father did not think so.  Then the lease; the premium;
+repairs of the drains that would have poisoned my Rosa; turning the
+coach-house into a dispensary; painting, papering, and furnishing;
+china, and linen, and everything to buy.  We must look at this
+seriously.  Only fourteen hundred and forty pounds left.  A slow
+profession.  No friends.  I have quarrelled with Uncle Philip: you
+with Mrs. Cole; and her husband would have launched me."
+
+"And it was to please her we settled here.  Oh, I could kill her:
+nasty cat!"
+
+"Never mind; it is not a case for despondency, but it is for
+prudence.  All we have to do is to look the thing in the face, and
+be very economical in everything.  I had better give you an
+allowance for housekeeping; and I earnestly beg you to buy things
+yourself whilst you are a poor man's wife, and pay ready money for
+everything.  My mother was a great manager, and she always said,
+'There is but one way: be your own market-woman, and pay on the
+spot; never let the tradesmen get you on their books, or, what with
+false weight, double charges, and the things your servants order
+that never enter the house, you lose more than a hundred a year by
+cheating.'"
+
+Rosa yielded a languid assent to this part of his discourse, and it
+hardly seemed to enter her mind; but she raised no objection; and
+in due course he made her a special allowance for housekeeping.
+
+It soon transpired that medical advice was to be had, gratis, at
+the Bijou, from eight till ten: and there was generally a good
+attendance.  But a week passed, and not one patient came of the
+class this couple must live by.  Christopher set this down to what
+people call "the transition period:" his Kent patients had lost
+him; his London patients not found him.  He wrote to all his
+patients in the country, and many of his pupils at the university,
+to let them know where he was settled: and then he waited.
+
+Not a creature came.
+
+Rosa bore this very well for a time, so long as the house was a
+novelty; but when that excitement was worn out, she began to be
+very dull, and used to come and entice him out to walk with her: he
+would look wistfully at her, but object that, if he left the house,
+he should be sure to lose a patient.
+
+"Oh, they won't come any more for our staying in--tiresome things!"
+said Rosa.
+
+But Christopher would kiss her, and remain firm.  "My love," said
+he, "you do not realize how hard a fight there is before us.  How
+should you?  You are very young.  No, for your sake, I must not
+throw a chance away.  Write to your female friends: that will while
+away an hour or two."
+
+"What, after that Florence Cole?"
+
+"Write to those who have not made such violent professions."
+
+"So I will, dear.  Especially to those that are married and come to
+London.  Oh, and I'll write to that cold-blooded thing, Lady Cicely
+Treherne.  Why do you shake your head?"
+
+"Did I?  I was not aware.  Well, dear, if ladies of rank were to
+come here, I fear they might make you discontented with your lot."
+
+"All the women on earth could not do that.  However, the chances
+are she will not come near me: she left the school quite a big
+girl, an immense girl, when I was only twelve.  She used to smile
+at my capriccios; and once she kissed me--actually.  She was an
+awful Sawny, though, and so affected: I think I will write to her."
+
+These letters brought just one lady, a Mrs. Turner, who talked to
+Rosa very glibly about herself, and amused Rosa twice: at the third
+visit, Rosa tried to change the conversation.  Mrs. Turner
+instantly got up, and went away.  She could not bear the sound of
+the human voice, unless it was talking about her and her affairs.
+
+And now Staines began to feel downright uneasy.  Income was going
+steadily out: not a shilling coming in.  The lame, the blind, and
+the sick frequented his dispensary, and got his skill out of him
+gratis, and sometimes a little physic, a little wine, and other
+things that cost him money: but of the patients that pay, not one
+came to his front door.
+
+He walked round and round his little yard, like a hyena in its
+cage, waiting, waiting, waiting: and oh! how he envied the lot of
+those who can hunt for work, instead of having to stay at home and
+wait for others to come, whose will they cannot influence.  His
+heart began to sicken with hope deferred, and dim forebodings of
+the future; and he saw, with grief, that his wife was getting
+duller and duller, and that her days dragged more heavily, far than
+his own; for he could study.
+
+At last his knocker began to show signs of life: his visitors were
+physicians.  His lectures on "Diagnosis" were well known to them;
+and one after another found him out.  They were polite, kind, even
+friendly; but here it ended: these gentlemen, of course, did not
+resign their patients to him; and the inferior class of
+practitioners avoided his door like a pestilence.
+
+Mrs. Staines, who had always lived for amusement, could strike out
+no fixed occupation; her time hung like lead; the house was small;
+and in small houses the faults of servants run against the
+mistress, and she can't help seeing them, and all the worse for
+her.  It is easier to keep things clean in the country, and Rosa
+had a high standard, which her two servants could never quite
+attain.  This annoyed her, and she began to scold a little.  They
+answered civilly, but in other respects remained imperfect beings;
+they laid out every shilling they earned in finery; and, this, I am
+ashamed to say, irritated Mrs. Staines, who was wearing out her
+wedding garments, and had no excuse for buying, and Staines had
+begged her to be economical.  The more they dressed, the more she
+scolded; they began to answer.  She gave the cook warning; the
+other, though not on good terms with the cook, had a gush of esprit
+de corps directly, and gave Mrs. Staines warning.
+
+Mrs. Staines told her husband all this: he took her part, though
+without openly interfering; and they had two new servants, not so
+good as the last.
+
+This worried Rosa sadly; but it was a flea-bite to the deeper
+nature, and more forecasting mind of her husband, still doomed to
+pace that miserable yard, like a hyena, chafing, seeking, longing
+for the patient that never came.
+
+Rosa used to look out of his dressing-room window, and see him pace
+the yard.  At first, tears of pity stood in her eyes.  By and by
+she got angry with the world; and at last, strange to say, a little
+irritated with him.  It is hard for a weak woman to keep up all her
+respect for the man that fails.
+
+One day, after watching him a long time unseen, she got excited,
+put on her shawl and bonnet, and ran down to him: she took him by
+the arm: "If you love me, come out of this prison, and walk with
+me; we are too miserable.  I shall be your first patient if this
+goes on much longer."  He looked at her, saw she was very excited,
+and had better be humored; so he kissed her and just said, with a
+melancholy smile, "How poor are they that have not patience!"  Then
+he put on his hat, and walked in the Park and Kensington Gardens
+with her.  The season was just beginning.  There were carriages
+enough, and gay Amazons enough, to make poor Rosa sigh more than
+once.
+
+Christopher heard the sigh; and pressed her arm, and said,
+"Courage, love, I hope to see you among them yet."
+
+"The sooner the better," said she, a little hardly.
+
+"And, meantime, which of them all is as beautiful as you?"
+
+"All I know is, they are more attractive.  Who looks at me, walking
+tamely by?"
+
+Christopher said nothing: but these words seemed to imply a thirst
+for admiration, and made him a little uneasy.
+
+By and by the walk put the swift-changing Rosa in spirits, and she
+began to chat gayly, and hung prattling and beaming on her
+husband's arm, when they entered Curzon Street.  Here, however,
+occurred an incident, trifling in itself, but unpleasant.  Dr.
+Staines saw one of his best Kentish patients get feebly out of his
+carriage, and call on Dr. Barr.  He started, and stopped.  Rosa
+asked what was the matter.  He told her.  She said, "We ARE
+unfortunate."
+
+Staines said nothing; he only quickened his pace; but he was
+greatly disturbed.  She expected him to complain that she had
+dragged him out, and lost him that first chance.  But he said
+nothing.  When they got home, he asked the servant had anybody
+called.
+
+"No, Sir."
+
+"Surely you are mistaken, Jane.  A gentleman in a carriage!"
+
+"Not a creature have been since you went out, sir."
+
+"Well, then, dearest," said he sweetly, "we have nothing to
+reproach ourselves with."  Then he knit his brow gloomily.  "It is
+worse than I thought.  It seems even one's country patients go to
+another doctor when they visit London.  It is hard.  It is hard."
+
+Rosa leaned her head on his shoulder, and curled round him, as one
+she would shield against the world's injustice; but she said
+nothing; she was a little frightened at his eye that lowered, and
+his noble frame that trembled a little, with ire suppressed.
+
+Two days after this, a brougham drove up to the door, and a
+tallish, fattish, pasty-faced man got out, and inquired for Dr.
+Staines.
+
+He was shown into the dining-room, and told Jane he had come to
+consult the doctor.
+
+Rosa had peeped over the stairs, all curiosity; she glided
+noiselessly down, and with love's swift foot got into the yard
+before Jane.  "He is come! he is come!  Kiss me."
+
+Dr. Staines kissed her first, and then asked who was come.
+
+"Oh, nobody of any consequence.  ONLY the first patient.  Kiss me
+again."
+
+Dr. Staines kissed her again, and then was for going to the first
+patient.
+
+"No," said she; "not yet.  I met a doctor's wife at Dr. Mayne's,
+and she told me things.  You must always keep them waiting; or else
+they think nothing of you.  Such a funny woman!  'Treat 'em like
+dogs, my dear,' she said.  But I told her they wouldn't come to be
+treated like dogs or any other animal."
+
+"You had better have kept that to yourself, I think."
+
+"Oh! if you are going to be disagreeable, good-by.  You can go to
+your patient, sir.  Christie, dear, if he is very--very ill--and
+I'm sure I hope he is--oh, how wicked I am; may I have a new
+bonnet?"
+
+"If you really want one."
+
+On the patient's card was "Mr. Pettigrew, 47 Manchester Square."
+
+As soon as Staines entered the room, the first patient told him who
+and what he was, a retired civilian from India; but he had got a
+son there still, a very rising man; wanted to be a parson; but he
+would not stand that; bad profession; don't rise by merit; very
+hard to rise at all;--no, India was the place.  "As for me, I made
+my fortune there in ten years.  Obliged to leave it now--invalid
+this many years; no TONE.  Tried two or three doctors in this
+neighborhood; heard there was a new one, had written a book on
+something.  Thought I would try HIM."
+
+To stop him, Staines requested to feel his pulse, and examine his
+tongue and eye.
+
+"You are suffering from indigestion," said he.  "I will write you a
+prescription; but if you want to get well, you must simplify your
+diet very much."
+
+While he was writing the prescription, off went this patient's
+tongue, and ran through the topics of the day and into his family
+history again.
+
+Staines listened politely.  He could afford it, having only this
+one.
+
+At last, the first patient, having delivered an octavo volume of
+nothing, rose to go; but it seems that speaking an "infinite deal
+of nothing" exhausts the body, though it does not affect the mind;
+for the first patient sank down in his chair again.  "I have
+excited myself too much--feel rather faint."
+
+Staines saw no signs of coming syncope; he rang the bell quietly,
+and ordered a decanter of sherry to be brought; the first patient
+filled himself a glass; then another; and went off, revived, to
+chatter elsewhere.  But at the door he said, "I had always a
+running account with Dr. Mivar.  I suppose you don't object to that
+system.  Double fee the first visit, single afterwards."
+
+Dr. Staines bowed a little stiffly; he would have preferred the
+money.  However, he looked at the Blue Book, and found his visitor
+lived at 47 Manchester Square; so that removed his anxiety.
+
+The first patient called every other day, chattered nineteen to the
+dozen, was exhausted, drank two glasses of sherry, and drove away.
+
+Soon after this a second patient called.  This one was a deputy
+patient--Collett, a retired butler--kept a lodging-house, and
+waited at parties; he lived close by, but had a married daughter in
+Chelsea.  Would the doctor visit her, and HE would be responsible?
+
+Staines paid the woman a visit or two, and treated her so
+effectually, that soon her visits were paid to him.  She was cured,
+and Staines, who by this time wanted to see money, sent to Collett.
+
+Collett did not answer.
+
+Staines wrote warmly.
+
+Collett dead silent.
+
+Staines employed a solicitor.
+
+Collett said he had recommended the patient, that was all.  He had
+never said he would pay her debts.  That was her husband's
+business.
+
+Now her husband was the mate of a ship; would not be in England for
+eighteen months.
+
+The woman, visited by lawyer's clerk, cried bitterly, and said she
+and her children had scarcely enough to eat.
+
+Lawyer advised Staines to abandon the case, and pay him two pounds
+fifteen shillings expenses.  He did so.
+
+"This is damnable," said he.  "I must get it out of Pettigrew; by-
+the-by, he has not been here this two days."
+
+He waited another day for Pettigrew, and then wrote to him.  No
+answer.  Called.  Pettigrew gone abroad.  House in Manchester
+Square to let.
+
+Staines went to the house-agent with his tale.  Agent was
+impenetrable at first; but, at last, won by the doctor's manner and
+his unhappiness, referred him to Pettigrew's solicitor; the
+solicitor was a respectable man, and said he would forward the
+claim to Pettigrew in Paris.
+
+But by this time Pettigrew was chattering and guzzling in Berlin;
+and thence he got to St. Petersburg.  In that stronghold of
+gluttony, he gormandized more than ever, and, being unable to talk
+it off his stomach, as in other cities, had apoplexy, and died.
+
+But long before this Staines saw his money was as irrecoverable as
+his sherry; and he said to Rosa, "I wonder whether I shall ever
+live to curse the human race?"
+
+"Heaven forbid!" said Rosa.  "Oh, they use you cruelly, my poor,
+poor Christie!"
+
+Thus for months the young doctor's patients bled him, and that was
+all.
+
+And Rosa got more and more moped at being in the house so much, and
+pestered Christopher to take her out, and he declined: and, being a
+man hard to beat, took to writing on medical subjects, in hopes of
+getting some money from the various medical and scientific
+publications; but he found it as hard to get the wedge in there as
+to get patients.
+
+At last Rosa's remonstrances began to rise into something that
+sounded like reproaches.  One Sunday she came to him in her bonnet,
+and interrupted his studies, to say he might as well lay down the
+pen, and talk.  Nobody would publish anything he wrote.
+
+Christopher frowned, but contained himself, and laid down the pen.
+
+"I might as well not be married at all as be a doctor's wife.  You
+are never seen out with me, not even to church.  Do behave like a
+Christian, and come to church with me now."
+
+Dr. Staines shook his head.
+
+"Why, I wouldn't miss church for all the world.  Any excitement is
+better than always moping.  Come over the water with me.  The time
+Jane and I went, the clergyman read a paper that Mr. Brown had
+fallen down in a fit.  There was such a rush directly, and I'm sure
+fifty ladies went out--fancy, all Mrs. Browns!  Wasn't that fun?"
+
+"Fun?  I don't see it.  Well, Rosa, your mind is evidently better
+adapted to diversion than mine is.  Go you to church, love, and
+I'll continue my studies."
+
+"Then all I can say is, I wish I was back in my father's house.
+Husband! friend! companion!--I have none."
+
+Then she burst out crying violently; and, being shocked at what she
+had said, and at the agony it had brought into her husband's face,
+she went off into hysterics; and as his heart would not let him
+bellow at her, or empty a bucket on her as he would on another
+patient, she had a good long bout of them: and got her way, for she
+broke up his studies for that day, at all events.
+
+Even after the hysterics were got under, she continued to moan and
+sigh very prettily, with her lovely, languid head pillowed on her
+husband's arm; in a word, though the hysterics were real, yet this
+innocent young person had the presence of mind to postpone entire
+convalescence, and lay herself out to be petted all day.  But fate
+willed it otherwise: while she was sighing and moaning, came to the
+door a scurrying of feet, and then a sharp, persistent ringing that
+meant something.  The moaner cocked eye and ear, and said, in her
+every-day voice, which, coming so suddenly, sounded very droll,
+"What is that, I wonder?"
+
+Jane hurried to the street-door, and Rosa recovered by magic; and,
+preferring gossip to hysterics, in an almost gleeful whisper,
+ordered Christopher to open the door of the study.  The Bijou was
+so small that the following dialogue rang in their ears:--
+
+A boy in buttons gasped out, "Oh, if you please, will you ast the
+doctor to come round directly; there's a haccident."
+
+"La, bless me!" said Jane, and never budged.
+
+"Yes, miss.  It's our missus's little girl fallen right off an
+i-chair, and cut her head dreadful, and smothered in blood."
+
+"La, to be sure!" And she waited steadily for more.
+
+"Ay, and missus she fainted right off; and I've been to the regler
+doctor, which he's out; and Sarah, the housemaid, said I had better
+come here; you was only just set up, she said; you wouldn't have so
+much to do, says she."
+
+"That is all SHE knows," said Jane.  "Why, our master--they pulls
+him in pieces which is to have him fust."
+
+"What an awful liar!  Oh, you good girl!" whispered Dr. Staines and
+Rosa in one breath.
+
+"Ah, well," said Buttons, "any way, Sarah says she knows you are
+clever, 'cos her little girl as lives with her mother, and calls
+Sarah aunt, has bin to your 'spensary with ringworm, and you cured
+her right off."
+
+"Ay, and a good many more," said Jane, loftily.  She was a
+housemaid of imagination; and while Staines was putting some lint
+and an instrument case into his pocket, she proceeded to relate a
+number of miraculous cures.  Dr. Staines interrupted them by
+suddenly emerging, and inviting Buttons to take him to the house.
+
+Mrs. Staines was so pleased with Jane for cracking up the doctor,
+that she gave her five shillings; and, after that, used to talk to
+her a great deal more than to the cook, which judicious conduct
+presently set all three by the ears.
+
+Buttons took the doctor to a fine house in the same street, and
+told him his mistress's name on the way--Mrs. Lucas.  He was taken
+up to the nursery, and found Mrs. Lucas seated, crying and
+lamenting, and a woman holding a little girl of about seven, whose
+brow had been cut open by the fender, on which she had fallen from
+a chair; it looked very ugly, and was even now bleeding.
+
+Dr. Staines lost no time; he examined the wound keenly, and then
+said kindly to Mrs. Lucas, "I am happy to tell you it is not
+serious."  He then asked for a large basin and some tepid water,
+and bathed it so softly and soothingly that the child soon became
+composed; and the mother discovered the artist at once.  He
+compressed the wound, and explained to Mrs. Lucas that the
+principal thing really was to avoid an ugly scar.  "There is no
+danger," said he.  He then bound the wound neatly up, and had the
+girl put to bed.  "You will not wake her at any particular hour,
+nurse.  Let her sleep.  Have a little strong beef-tea ready, and
+give it her at any hour, night or day, she asks for it.  But do not
+force it on her, or you will do her more harm than good.  She had
+better sleep before she eats."
+
+Mrs. Lucas begged him to come every morning; and, as he was going,
+she shook hands with him, and the soft palm deposited a hard
+substance wrapped in paper.  He took it with professional gravity
+and seeming unconsciousness; but, once outside the house, went home
+on wings.  He ran up to the drawing-room, and found his wife
+seated, and playing at reading.  He threw himself on his knees, and
+the fee into her lap; and, while she unfolded the paper with an
+ejaculation of pleasure, he said, "Darling, the first real patient--
+the first real fee.  It is yours to buy the new bonnet."
+
+"Oh, I'm so glad!" said she, with her eyes glistening.  "But I'm
+afraid one can't get a bonnet fit to wear--for a guinea."
+
+Dr. Staines visited his little patient every day, and received his
+guinea.  Mrs. Lucas also called him in for her own little ailments,
+and they were the best possible kind of ailments: for, being
+imaginary, there was no limit to them.
+
+Then did Mrs. Staines turn jealous of her husband.  "They never ask
+me," said she; "and I am moped to death."
+
+"It is hard," said Christopher, sadly.  "But have a little
+patience.  Society will come to you long before practice comes to
+me."
+
+About two o'clock one afternoon a carriage and pair drove up, and a
+gorgeous footman delivered a card--"Lady Cicely Treherne."
+
+Of course Mrs. Staines was at home, and only withheld by propriety
+from bounding into the passage to meet her school-fellow.  However,
+she composed herself in the drawing-room, and presently the door
+was opened, and a very tall young woman, richly but not gayly
+dressed, drifted into the room, and stood there a statue of
+composure.
+
+Rosa had risen to fly to her; but the reverence a girl of eighteen
+strikes into a child of twelve hung about her still, and she came
+timidly forward, blushing and sparkling, a curious contrast in
+color and mind to her visitor; for Lady Cicely was Languor in
+person--her hair whitey-brown, her face a fine oval, but almost
+colorless; her eyes a pale gray, her neck and hands incomparably
+white and beautiful--a lymphatic young lady, a live antidote to
+emotion.  However, Rosa's beauty, timidity, and undisguised
+affectionateness were something so different from what she was used
+to in the world of fashion, that she actually smiled, and held out
+both her hands a little way.  Rosa seized them, and pressed them;
+they left her; and remained passive and limp.
+
+"O Lady Cicely," said Rosa, "how kind of you to come."
+
+"How kind of you to send to me," was the polite, but perfectly cool
+reply.  "But how you are gwown, and--may I say impwoved?--You la
+petite Lusignan!  It is incwedible," lisped her ladyship, very
+calmly.
+
+"I was only a child," said Rosa.  "You were always so beautiful and
+tall, and kind to a little monkey like me.  Oh, pray sit down, Lady
+Cicely, and talk of old times."
+
+She drew her gently to the sofa, and they sat down hand in hand;
+but Lady Cicely's high-bred reserve made her a very poor gossip
+about anything that touched herself and her family; so Rosa, though
+no egotist, was drawn into talking about herself more than she
+would have done had she deliberately planned the conversation.  But
+here was an old school-fellow, and a singularly polite listener,
+and so out came her love, her genuine happiness, her particular
+griefs, and especially the crowning grievance, no society, moped to
+death, etc.
+
+Lady Cicely could hardly understand the sentiment in a woman who so
+evidently loved her husband.  "Society!" said she, after due
+reflection, "why, it is a boa."  (And here I may as well explain
+that Lady Cicely spoke certain words falsely, and others
+affectedly; and as for the letter r, she could say it if she made a
+hearty effort, but was generally too lazy to throw her leg over
+it.)  "Society!  I'm dwenched to death with it.  If I could only
+catch fiah like other women, and love somebody, I would much rather
+have a tete-a-tete with him than go teawing about all day and all
+night, from one unintwisting cwowd to another.  To be sure," said
+she, puzzling the matter out, "you are a beauty, and would be more
+looked at."
+
+"The idea! and--oh no! no! it is not that.  But even in the country
+we had always some society."
+
+"Well, dyar, believe me, with your appeawance, you can have as much
+society as you please; but it will boa you to death, as it does me,
+and then you will long to be left quiet with a sensible man who
+loves you."
+
+Said Rosa, "When shall I have another tete-a-tete with YOU, I
+wonder?  Oh, it has been such a comfort to me.  Bless you for
+coming.  There--I wrote to Cecilia, and Emily, and Mrs. Bosanquet
+that is now, and all my sworn friends, and to think of you being
+the one to come--you that never kissed me but once, and an earl's
+daughter into the bargain."
+
+Ha! ha! ha!"--Lady Cicely actually laughed for once in a way, and
+did not feel the effort.  "As for kissing," said she, "if I fall
+shawt, fawgive me.  I was nevaa vewy demonstwative."
+
+"No; and I have had a lesson.  That Florence Cole--Florence Whiting
+that was, you know--was always kissing me, and she has turned out a
+traitor.  I'll tell you all about her."  And she did.
+
+Lady Cicely thought Mrs. Staines a little too unreserved in her
+conversation; but was so charmed with her sweetness and freshness
+that she kept up the acquaintance, and called on her twice a week
+during the season.  At first she wondered that her visits were not
+returned; but Rosa let out that she was ashamed to call on foot in
+Grosvenor Square.
+
+Lady Cicely shrugged her beautiful shoulders a little at that; but
+she continued to do the visiting, and to enjoy the simple, innocent
+rapture with which she was received.
+
+This lady's pronunciation of many words was false or affected.  She
+said "good murning" for "good morning," and turned other vowels to
+diphthongs, and played two or three pranks with her "r's."  But we
+cannot be all imperfection: with her pronunciation her folly came
+to a full stop.  I really believe she lisped less nonsense and bad
+taste in a year than some of us articulate in a day.  To be sure,
+folly is generally uttered in a hurry, and she was too deplorably
+lazy to speak fast on any occasion whatever.
+
+One day Mrs. Staines took her up-stairs, and showed her from the
+back window her husband pacing the yard, waiting for patients.
+Lady Cicely folded her arms, and contemplated him at first with a
+sort of zoological curiosity.  Gentleman pacing back yard, like
+hyena, she had never seen before.
+
+At last she opened her mouth in a whisper, "What is he doing?"
+
+"Waiting for patients."
+
+"Oh!  Waiting--for--patients?"
+
+"For patients that never come, and never will come."
+
+"Cuwious!  How little I know of life."
+
+"It is that all day, dear, or else writing."
+
+Lady Cicely, with her eyes fixed on Staines, made a motion with her
+hand that she was attending.
+
+"And they won't publish a word he writes."
+
+"Poor man!"
+
+"Nice for me; is it not?"
+
+"I begin to understand," said Lady Cicely quietly; and soon after
+retired with her invariable composure.
+
+Meantime, Dr. Staines, like a good husband, had thrown out
+occasional hints to Mrs. Lucas that he had a wife, beautiful,
+accomplished, moped.  More than that, he went so far as to regret
+to her that Mrs. Staines, being in a neighborhood new to him, saw
+so little society; the more so, as she was formed to shine, and had
+not been used to seclusion.
+
+All these hints fell dead on Mrs. Lucas.  A handsome and skilful
+doctor was welcome to her: his wife--that was quite another matter.
+
+But one day Mrs. Lucas saw Lady Cicely Treherne's carriage standing
+at the door.  The style of the whole turnout impressed her.  She
+wondered whose it was.
+
+On another occasion she saw it drive up, and the lady get out.  She
+recognized her; and the very next day this parvenue said adroitly,
+"Now, Dr. Staines, really you can't be allowed to hide your wife in
+this way.  (Staines stared.)  Why not introduce her to me next
+Wednesday?  It is my night.  I would give a dinner expressly for
+her; but I don't like to do that while my husband is in Naples."
+
+When Staines carried the invitation to his wife, she was delighted,
+and kissed him with childish frankness.
+
+But the very next moment she became thoughtful, uneasy, depressed.
+"Oh, dear; I've nothing to wear."
+
+"Oh, nonsense, Rosa.  Your wedding outfit."
+
+"The idea! I can't go as a bride.  It's not a masquerade."
+
+"But you have other dresses."
+
+"All gone by, more or less; or not fit for such parties as SHE
+gives.  A hundred carriages!"
+
+"Bring them down, and let me see them."
+
+"Oh yes."  And the lady, who had nothing to wear, paraded a very
+fair show of dresses.
+
+Staines saw something to admire in all of them.  Mrs. Staines found
+more to object to in each.
+
+At last he fell upon a silver-gray silk, of superlative quality.
+
+"That!  It is as old as the hills," shrieked Rosa.
+
+"It looks just out of the shop.  Come, tell the truth; how often
+have you worn it?"
+
+"I wore it before I was married."
+
+"Ay, but how often?"
+
+"Twice.  Three times, I believe."
+
+"I thought so.  It is good as new."
+
+"But I have had it so long by me.  I had it two years before I made
+it up."
+
+"What does that matter?  Do you think the people can tell how long
+a dress has been lurking in your wardrobe?  This is childish, Rosa.
+There, with this dress as good as new, and your beauty, you will be
+as much admired, and perhaps hated, as your heart can desire."
+
+"I am afraid not," said Rosa naively.  "Oh, how I wish I had known
+a week ago."
+
+"I am very thankful you did not," said Staines dryly.
+
+At ten o'clock Mrs. Staines was nearly dressed; at a quarter past
+ten she demanded ten minutes; at half-past ten she sought a
+reprieve; at a quarter to eleven, being assured that the street was
+full of carriages, which had put down at Mrs. Lucas's, she
+consented to emerge; and in a minute they were at the house.
+
+They were shown first into a cloak-room, and then into a tea-room,
+and then mounted the stairs.  One servant took their names, and
+bawled them to another four yards off, he to another about as near,
+and so on; and they edged themselves into the room, not yet too
+crowded to move in.
+
+They had not taken many steps, on the chance of finding their
+hostess, when a slight buzz arose, and seemed to follow them.
+
+Rosa wondered what that was; but only for a moment; she observed a
+tall, stout, aquiline woman fix an eye of bitter, diabolical,
+malignant hatred on her; and as she advanced, ugly noses were
+cocked disdainfully, and scraggy shoulders elevated at the risk of
+sending the bones through the leather, and a titter or two shot
+after her.  A woman's instinct gave her the key at once; the sexes
+had complimented her at sight; each in their way; the men with
+respectful admiration; the women, with their inflammable jealousy
+and ready hatred in another of the quality they value most in
+themselves.  But the country girl was too many for them: she would
+neither see nor bear, but moved sedately on, and calmly crushed
+them with her Southern beauty.  Their dry, powdered faces could not
+live by the side of her glowing skin, with nature's delicate gloss
+upon it, and the rich blood mantling below it.  The got-up
+beauties, i.e., the majority, seemed literally to fade and wither
+as she passed.
+
+Mrs. Lucas got to her, suppressed a slight maternal pang, having
+daughters to marry, and took her line in a moment; here was a decoy
+duck.  Mrs. Lucas was all graciousness, made acquaintance, and took
+a little turn with her, introducing her to one or two persons;
+among the rest, to the malignant woman, Mrs. Barr.  Mrs. Barr, on
+this, ceased to look daggers and substituted icicles; but on the
+hateful beauty moving away, dropped the icicles, and resumed the
+poniards.
+
+The rooms filled; the heat became oppressive, and the mixed odors
+of flowers, scents, and perspiring humanity, sickening.  Some,
+unable to bear it, trickled out of the room, and sat all down the
+stairs.
+
+Rosa began to feel faint.  Up came a tall, sprightly girl, whose
+pertness was redeemed by a certain bonhomie, and said, "Mrs.
+Staines, I believe?  I am to make myself agreeable to you.  That is
+the order from headquarters."
+
+"Miss Lucas," said Staines.
+
+She jerked a little off-hand bow to him, and said, "Will you trust
+her to me for five minutes?"
+
+"Certainly."  But he did not much like it.
+
+Miss Lucas carried her off, and told Dr. Staines, over her
+shoulder, now he could flirt to his heart's content.
+
+"Thank you," said he dryly.  "I'll await your return."
+
+"Oh, there are some much greater flirts here than I am," said the
+ready Miss Lucas; and whispering something in Mrs. Staines's ear,
+suddenly glided with her behind a curtain, pressed a sort of button
+fixed to a looking-glass door.  The door opened, and behold they
+were in a delicious place, for which I can hardly find a word,
+since it was a boudoir and a conservatory in one: a large octagon,
+the walls lined from floor to ceiling with looking-glasses of
+moderate width, at intervals, and with creepers that covered the
+intervening spaces of the wall, and were trained so as to break the
+outline of the glasses without greatly clouding the reflection.
+Ferns, in great variety, were grouped in a deep crescent, and in
+the bight of this green bay were a small table and chairs.  As
+there were no hot-house plants, the temperature was very cool,
+compared with the reeking oven they had escaped; and a little
+fountain bubbled, and fed a little meandering gutter that trickled
+away among the ferns; it ran crystal clear over little bright
+pebbles and shells.  It did not always run, you understand; but
+Miss Lucas turned a secret tap, and started it.
+
+"Oh, how heavenly!" said Rosa, with a sigh of relief; "and how good
+of you to bring me here!"
+
+"Yes; by rights I ought to have waited till you fainted.  But there
+is no making acquaintance among all those people.  Mamma will ask
+such crowds; one is like a fly in a glue-pot."
+
+Miss Lucas had good nature, smartness, and animal spirits; hence
+arose a vivacity and fluency that were often amusing, and passed
+for very clever.  Reserve she had none; would talk about strangers,
+or friends, herself, her mother, her God, and the last buffoon-
+singer, in a breath.  At a hint from Rosa, she told her who the
+lady in the pink dress was, and the lady in the violet velvet, and
+so on; for each lady was defined by her dress, and, more or less,
+quizzed by this show-woman, not exactly out of malice, but because
+it is smarter and more natural to decry than to praise, and a
+little medisance is the spice to gossip, belongs to it, as mint
+sauce to lamb.  So they chatted away, and were pleased with each
+other, and made friends, and there, in cool grot, quite forgot the
+sufferings of their fellow-creatures in the adjacent Turkish bath,
+yclept society.  It was Rosa who first recollected herself.  "Will
+not Mrs. Lucas be angry with me, if I keep you all to myself?"
+
+"Oh no; but I'm afraid we must go into the hot-house again.  I like
+the greenhouse best, with such a nice companion."
+
+They slipped noiselessly into the throng again, and wriggled about,
+Miss Lucas presenting her new friend to several ladies and
+gentlemen.
+
+Presently Staines found them, and then Miss Lucas wriggled away;
+and in due course the room was thinned by many guests driving off
+home, or to balls, and other receptions, and Dr. Staines and Mrs.
+Staines went home to the Bijou.  Here the physician prescribed bed;
+but the lady would not hear of such a thing until she had talked it
+all over.  So they compared notes, and Rosa told him how well she
+had got on with Miss Lucas, and made a friendship.  "But for that,"
+said she, "I should be sorry I went among those people, such a
+dowdy."
+
+"Dowdy!" said Staines.  "Why, you stormed the town; you were the
+great success of the night, and, for all I know, of the season."
+The wretch delivered this with unbecoming indifference.
+
+"It is too bad to mock me, Christie.  Where were your eyes?"
+
+"To the best of my recollection, they were one on each side of my
+nose."
+
+"Yes, but some people are eyes and no eyes."
+
+"I scorn the imputation; try me."
+
+"Very well.  Then did you see that lady in sky-blue silk,
+embroidered with flowers, and flounced with white velvet, and the
+corsage point lace; and oh, such emeralds?"
+
+"I did; a tall, skinny woman, with eyes resembling her jewels in
+color, though not in brightness."
+
+"Never mind her eyes; it is her dress I am speaking of.  Exquisite;
+and what a coiffure!  Well, did you see HER in the black velvet,
+trimmed so deep with Chantilly lace, wave on wave, and her head-
+dress of crimson flowers, and such a riviere of diamonds; oh, dear!
+oh, dear!"
+
+"I did, love.  The room was an oven, but her rubicund face and
+suffocating costume made it seem a furnace."
+
+"Stuff!  Well, did you see the lady in the corn-colored silk, and
+poppies in her hair?"
+
+"Of course I did.  Ceres in person.  She made me feel hot, too; but
+I cooled myself a bit at her pale, sickly face."
+
+"Never mind their faces; that is not the point."
+
+"Oh, excuse me; it is always a point with us benighted males, all
+eyes and no eyes."
+
+"Well, then, the lady in white, with cherry-velvet bands, and a
+white tunic looped with crimson, and headdress of white illusion, a
+la vierge, I think they call it."
+
+"It was very refreshing; and adapted to that awful atmosphere.  It
+was the nearest approach to nudity I ever saw, even amongst
+fashionable people."
+
+"It was lovely; and then that superb figure in white illusion and
+gold, with all those narrow flounces over her slip of white silk
+glacee, and a wreath of white flowers, with gold wheat ears amongst
+them, in her hair; and oh! oh! oh! her pearls, oriental, and as big
+as almonds!"
+
+"And oh! oh! oh! her nose! reddish, and as long as a woodcock's."
+
+"Noses! noses! stupid!  That is not what strikes you first in a
+woman dressed like an angel."
+
+"Well, if you were to run up against that one, as I nearly did, her
+nose WOULD be the thing that would strike you first.  Nose! it was
+a rostrum! the spear-head of Goliah."
+
+"Now, don't, Christopher.  This is no laughing matter.  Do you mean
+you were not ashamed of your wife?  I was."
+
+"No, I was not; you had but one rival; a very young lady, wise
+before her age; a blonde, with violet eyes.  She was dressed in
+light mauve-colored silk, without a single flounce, or any other
+tomfoolery to fritter away the sheen and color of an exquisite
+material; her sunny hair was another wave of color, wreathed with a
+thin line of white jessamine flowers closely woven, that scented
+the air.  This girl was the moon of that assembly, and you were the
+sun."
+
+"I never even saw her."
+
+"Eyes and no eyes.  She saw you, and said, 'Oh, what a beautiful
+creature!' for I heard her.  As for the old stagers, whom you
+admire so, their faces were all clogged with powder, the pores
+stopped up, the true texture of the skin abolished.  They looked
+downright nasty, whenever you or that young girl passed by them.
+Then it was you saw to what a frightful extent women are got up in
+our day, even young women, and respectable women.  No, Rosa, dress
+can do little for you; you have beauty--real beauty."
+
+"Beauty!  That passes unnoticed, unless one is well dressed."
+
+"Then what an obscure pair the Apollo Belvidere and the Venus de
+Medicis must be."
+
+"Oh! they are dressed--in marble."
+
+Christopher Staines stared first, then smiled.
+
+"Well done," said he, admiringly.  "That IS a knockdown blow.  So
+now you have silenced your husband, go you to bed directly.  I
+can't afford you diamonds; so I will take care of that little
+insignificant trifle, your beauty."
+
+Mrs. Staines and Mrs. Lucas exchanged calls, and soon Mrs. Staines
+could no longer complain she was out of the world.  Mrs. Lucas
+invited her to every party, because her beauty was an instrument of
+attraction she knew how to use; and Miss Lucas took a downright
+fancy to her; drove her in the park, and on Sundays to the
+Zoological Gardens, just beginning to be fashionable.
+
+The Lucases rented a box at the opera, and if it was not let at the
+library by six o'clock, and if other engagements permitted, word
+was sent round to Mrs. Staines, as a matter of course, and she was
+taken to the opera.  She began almost to live at the Lucases, and
+to be oftener fatigued than moped.
+
+The usual order of things was inverted; the maiden lady educated
+the matron; for Miss Lucas knew all about everybody in the Park,
+honorable or dishonorable; all the scandals, and all the
+flirtations; and whatever she knew, she related point-blank.  Being
+as inquisitive as voluble, she soon learned how Mrs. Staines and
+her husband were situated.  She took upon her to advise her in many
+things, and especially impressed upon her that Dr. Staines must
+keep a carriage, if he wanted to get on in medicine.  The piece of
+advice accorded so well with Rosa's wishes, that she urged it on
+her husband again and again.
+
+He objected that no money was coming in, and therefore it would be
+insane to add to their expenses.  Rosa persisted, and at last
+worried Staines with her importunity.  He began to give rather
+short answers.  Then she quoted Miss Lucas against him.  He treated
+the authority with marked contempt; and then Rosa fired up a
+little.  Then Staines held his peace; but did not buy a carriage to
+visit his no patients.
+
+So at last Rosa complained to Lady Cicely Treherne, and made her
+the judge between her husband and herself.  Lady Cicely drawled out
+a prompt but polite refusal to play that part.  All that could be
+elicited from her, and that with difficulty, was, "Why quall with
+your husband about a cawwige; he is your best fwiend."
+
+"Ah, that he is," said Rosa; "but Miss Lucas is a good friend, and
+she knows the world.  We don't; neither Christopher nor I."
+
+So she continued to nag at her husband about it, and to say that he
+was throwing his only chance away.
+
+Galled as he was by neglect, this was irritating, and at last he
+could not help telling her she was unreasonable.  "You live a gay
+life, and I a sad one.  I consent to this, and let you go about
+with these Lucases, because you were so dull; but you should not
+consult them in our private affairs.  Their interference is
+indelicate and improper.  I will not set up a carriage till I have
+patients to visit.  I am sick of seeing our capital dwindle, and no
+income created.  I will never set up a carriage till I have taken a
+hundred-guinea fee."
+
+"Oh!  Then we shall go splashing through the mud all our days."
+
+"Or ride in a cab," said Christopher, with a quiet doggedness that
+left no hope of his yielding.
+
+One afternoon Miss Lucas called for Mrs. Staines to drive in the
+Park, but did not come up-stairs; it was an engagement, and she
+knew Mrs. Staines would be ready, or nearly.  Mrs. Staines, not to
+keep her waiting, came down rather hastily, and in the very passage
+whipped out of her pocket a little glass, and a little powder puff,
+and puffed her face all over in a trice.  She was then going out;
+but her husband called her into the study.  "Rosa, my dear," said
+he, "you were going out with a dirty face."
+
+"Oh!" cried she, "give me a glass."
+
+"There is no need of that.  All you want is a basin and some nice
+rain-water.  I keep a little reservoir of it."
+
+He then handed her the same with great politeness.  She looked in
+his eye, and saw he was not to be trifled with.  She complied like
+a lamb, and the heavenly color and velvet gloss that resulted were
+admirable.
+
+He kissed her and said, "Ah! now you are my Rosa again.  Oblige me
+by handing over that powder-puff to me."  She looked vexed, but
+complied.  "When you come back I will tell you why."
+
+"You are a pest," said Mrs. Staines, and so joined her friend, rosy
+with rain-water and a rub.
+
+"Dear me, how handsome you look to-day!" was Miss Lucas's first
+remark.
+
+Rosa never dreamed that rain-water and rub could be the cause of
+her looking so well.
+
+"It is my tiresome husband," said she.  "He objects to powder, and
+he has taken away my puff."
+
+"And you stood that?"
+
+"Obliged to."
+
+"Why, you poor-spirited little creature, I should like to see a
+husband presume to interfere with me in those things.  Here, take
+mine."
+
+Rosa hesitated a little.  "Well--no--I think not."
+
+Miss Lucas laughed at her, and quizzed her so on her allowing a man
+to interfere in such sacred things as dress and cosmetics, that she
+came back irritated with her husband, and gave him a short answer
+or two.  Then he asked what was the matter.
+
+"You treat me like a child--taking away my very puff."
+
+"I treat you like a beautiful flower, that no bad gardener shall
+wither whilst I am here."
+
+"What nonsense!  How could that wither me?  It is only violet
+powder--what they put on babies."
+
+"And who are the Herods that put it on babies?"
+
+"Their own mothers, that love them ten times more than the fathers
+do."
+
+"And kill a hundred of them for one a man ever kills.  Mothers!--
+the most wholesale homicides in the nation.  We will examine your
+violet-powder: bring it down here."
+
+While she was gone he sent for a breakfast-cupful of flour, and
+when she came back he had his scales out, and begged her to put a
+teaspoonful of flour into one scale and of violet powder into
+another.  The flour kicked the beam, as Homer expresses himself.
+
+"Put another spoonful of flour."
+
+The one spoonful of violet powder outweighed the two of flour.
+
+"Now," said Staines, "does not that show you the presence of a
+mineral in your vegetable powder?  I suppose they tell you it is
+made of white violets dried, and triturated in a diamond mill.  Let
+us find out what metal it is.  We need not go very deep into
+chemistry for that."  He then applied a simple test, and detected
+the presence of lead in large quantities.  Then he lectured her:
+"Invisible perspiration is a process of nature necessary to health
+and to life.  The skin is made porous for that purpose.  You can
+kill anybody in an hour or two by closing the pores.  A certain
+infallible ass, called Pope Leo XII., killed a little boy in two
+hours, by gilding him to adorn the pageant of his first procession
+as Pope.  But what is death to the whole body must be injurious to
+a part.  What madness, then, to clog the pores of so large and
+important a surface as the face, and check the invisible
+perspiration: how much more to insert lead into your system every
+day of your life; a cumulative poison, and one so deadly and so
+subtle, that the Sheffield file-cutters die in their prime, from
+merely hammering on a leaden anvil.  And what do you gain by this
+suicidal habit?  No plum has a sweeter bloom or more delicious
+texture than the skin of your young face; but this mineral filth
+hides that delicate texture, and substitutes a dry, uniform
+appearance, more like a certain kind of leprosy than health.
+Nature made your face the rival of peaches, roses, lilies; and you
+say, 'No; I know better than my Creator and my God; my face shall
+be like a dusty miller's.'  Go into any flour-mill, and there you
+shall see men with faces exactly like your friend Miss Lucas's.
+But before a miller goes to his sweetheart, he always washes his
+face.  You ladies would never get a miller down to your level in
+brains.  It is a miller's DIRTY face our mono-maniacs of woman
+imitate, not the face a miller goes a-courting with."
+
+"La! what a fuss about nothing!"
+
+"About nothing!  Is your health nothing?  Is your beauty nothing?
+Well, then, it will cost you nothing to promise me never to put
+powder on your face again."
+
+"Very well, I promise.  Now what will you do for me?"
+
+"Work for you--write for you--suffer for you--be self-denying for
+you--and even give myself the pain of disappointing you now and
+then--looking forward to the time when I shall be able to say 'Yes'
+to everything you ask me.  Ah! child, you little know what it costs
+me to say 'No' to YOU."
+
+Rosa put her arms round him and acquiesced.  She was one of those
+who go with the last speaker; but, for that very reason, the
+eternal companionship of so flighty and flirty a girl as Miss Lucas
+was injurious to her.
+
+One day Lady Cicely Treherne was sitting with Mrs. Staines, smiling
+languidly at her talk, and occasionally drawling out a little plain
+good sense, when in came Miss Lucas, with her tongue well hung, as
+usual, and dashed into twenty topics in ten minutes.
+
+This young lady in her discourse was like those little oily beetles
+you see in small ponds, whose whole life is spent in tacking--
+confound them for it!--generally at right angles.  What they are in
+navigation was Miss Lucas in conversation: tacked so eternally from
+topic to topic, that no man on earth, and not every woman, could
+follow her.
+
+At the sight and sound of her, Lady Cicely congealed and stiffened.
+Easy and unpretending with Mrs. Staines, she was all dignity, and
+even majesty, in the presence of this chatterbox; and the
+smoothness with which the transfiguration was accomplished marked
+that accomplished actress the high-bred woman of the world.
+
+Rosa, better able to estimate the change of manner than Miss Lucas
+was, who did not know how little this Sawny was afflicted with
+misplaced dignity, looked wistfully and distressed at her.  Lady
+Cicely smiled kindly in reply, rose, without seeming to hurry,--
+catch her condescending to be rude to Charlotte Lucas,--and took
+her departure, with a profound and most gracious courtesy to the
+lady who had driven her away.
+
+Mrs. Staines saw her down-stairs, and said, ruefully, "I am afraid
+you do not like my friend Miss Lucas.  She is a great rattle, but
+so good-natured and clever."
+
+Lady Cicely shook her head.  "Clevaa people don't talk so much
+nonsense before strangaas."
+
+"Oh, dear!" said Rosa.  "I was in hopes you would like her."
+
+"Do YOU like her?"
+
+"Indeed I do; but I shall not, if she drives an older friend away."
+
+"My dyah, I'm not easily dwiven from those I esteem.  But you
+undastand that is not a woman for me to mispwonownce my 'ah's
+befaw--NOR FOR YOU TO MAKE A BOSOM FWIEND OF--WOSA STAINES."
+
+She said this with a sudden maternal solemnity and kindness that
+contrasted nobly and strangely with her yea-nay style, and Mrs.
+Staines remembered the words years after they were spoken.
+
+It so happened that after this Mrs. Staines received no more visits
+from Lady Cicely for some time, and that vexed her.  She knew her
+sex enough to be aware that they are very jealous, and she
+permitted herself to think that this high-minded Sawny was jealous
+of Miss Lucas.
+
+This idea, founded on a general estimate of her sex, was dispelled
+by a few lines from Lady Cicely, to say her family and herself were
+in deep distress; her brother, Lord Ayscough, lay dying from an
+accident.
+
+Then Rosa was all remorse, and ran down to Staines to tell him.
+She found him with an open letter in his hand.  It was from Dr.
+Barr, and on the same subject.  The doctor, who had always been
+friendly to him, invited him to come down at once to Hallowtree
+Hall, in Huntingdonshire, to a consultation.  There was a friendly
+intimation to start at once, as the patient might die any moment.
+
+Husband and wife embraced each other in a tumult of surprised
+thankfulness.  A few necessaries were thrown into a carpet-bag, and
+Dr. Staines was soon whirled into Huntingdonshire.  Having
+telegraphed beforehand, he was met at the station by the earl's
+carriage and people, and driven to the Hall.  He was received by an
+old, silver-haired butler, looking very sad, who conducted him to a
+boudoir; and then went and tapped gently at the door of the
+patient's room.  It was opened and shut very softly, and Lady
+Cicely, dressed in black, and looking paler than ever, came into
+the room.
+
+"Dr. Staines, I think?"
+
+He bowed.
+
+"Thank you for coming so promptly.  Dr. Barr is gone.  I fear he
+thinks--he thinks--O Dr. Staines--no sign of life but in his poor
+hands, that keep moving night and day."
+
+Staines looked very grave at that.  Lady Cicely observed it, and,
+faint at heart, could say no more, but led the way to the sick-
+room.
+
+There in a spacious chamber, lighted by a grand oriel window and
+two side windows, lay rank, title, wealth, and youth, stricken down
+in a moment by a common accident.  The sufferer's face was
+bloodless, his eyes fixed, and no signs of life but in his thumbs,
+and they kept working with strange regularity.
+
+In the room were a nurse and the surgeon; the neighboring
+physician, who had called in Dr. Barr, had just paid his visit and
+gone away.
+
+Lady Cicely introduced Dr. Staines and Mr. White, and then Dr.
+Staines stood and fixed his eyes on the patient in profound
+silence.  Lady Cicely scanned his countenance searchingly, and was
+struck with the extraordinary power and intensity it assumed in
+examining the patient; but the result was not encouraging.  Dr.
+Staines looked grave and gloomy.
+
+At last, without removing his eye from the recumbent figure, he
+said quietly to Mr. White, "Thrown from his horse, sir."
+
+"Horse fell on him, Dr. Staines."
+
+"Any visible injuries?"
+
+"Yes.  Severe contusions, and a rib broken and pressed upon the
+lungs.  I replaced and set it.  Will you see?"
+
+"If you please."
+
+He examined and felt the patient, and said it had been ably done.
+
+Then he was silent and searching.
+
+At last he spoke again.  "The motion of the thumbs corresponds
+exactly with his pulse."
+
+"Is that so, sir?"
+
+"It is.  The case is without a parallel.  How long has he been so?"
+
+"Nearly a week."
+
+"Impossible!"
+
+"It is so, sir."
+
+Lady Cicely confirmed this.
+
+"All the better," said Dr. Staines upon reflection.  "Well, sir,"
+said he, "the visible injuries having been ably relieved, I shall
+look another way for the cause."  Then, after another pause, "I
+must have his head shaved."
+
+Lady Cicely demurred a little to this; but Dr. Staines stood firm,
+and his lordship's valet undertook the job.
+
+Staines directed him where to begin; and when he had made a
+circular tonsure on the top of the head, had it sponged with tepid
+water.
+
+"I thought so," said he.  "Here is the mischief;" and he pointed to
+a very slight indentation on the left side of the pia mater.
+"Observe," said he, "there is no corresponding indentation on the
+other side.  Underneath this trifling depression a minute piece of
+bone is doubtless pressing on the most sensitive part of the brain.
+He must be trephined."
+
+Mr. White's eyes sparkled.
+
+"You are an hospital surgeon, sir?"
+
+"Yes, Dr. Staines.  I have no fear of the operation."
+
+"Then I hand the patient over to you.  The case at present is
+entirely surgical."
+
+White was driven home, and soon returned with the requisite
+instruments.  The operation was neatly performed, and then Lady
+Cicely was called in.  She came trembling; her brother's fingers
+were still working, but not so regularly.
+
+"That is only HABIT," said Staines; "it will soon leave off, now
+the cause is gone."
+
+And, truly enough, in about five minutes the fingers became quiet.
+The eyes became human next; and within half an hour after the
+operation the earl gave a little sigh.
+
+Lady Cicely clasped her hands, and uttered a little cry of delight.
+
+"This will not do," said Staines, "I shall have you screaming when
+he speaks."
+
+"Oh, Dr. Staines! will he ever speak?"
+
+"I think so, and very soon.  So be on your guard."
+
+This strange scene reached its climax soon after, by the earl
+saying, quietly,--
+
+"Are her knees broke, Tom?"
+
+Lady Cicely uttered a little scream, but instantly suppressed it.
+
+"No, my lord," said Staines, smartly; "only rubbed a bit.  You can
+go to sleep, my lord.  I'll take care of the mare."
+
+"All right," said his lordship; and composed himself to slumber.
+
+Dr. Staines, at the earnest request of Lady Cicely, stayed all
+night; and in course of the day advised her how to nurse the
+patient, since both physician and surgeon had done with him.
+
+He said the patient's brain might be irritable for some days, and
+no women in silk dresses or crinoline, or creaking shoes, must
+enter the room.  He told her the nurse was evidently a clumsy
+woman, and would be letting things fall.  She had better get some
+old soldier used to nursing.  "And don't whisper in the room," said
+he; "nothing irritates them worse; and don't let anybody play a
+piano within hearing; but in a day or two you may try him with slow
+and continuous music on the flute or violin if you like.  Don't
+touch his bed suddenly; don't sit on it or lean on it.  Dole
+sunlight into his room by degrees; and when he can bear it, drench
+him with it.  Never mind what the old school tell you.  About these
+things they know a good deal less than nothing."
+
+Lady Cicely received all this like an oracle.
+
+The cure was telegraphed to Dr. Barr, and he was requested to
+settle the fee.  He was not the man to undersell the profession,
+and was jealous of nobody, having a large practice, and a very
+wealthy wife.  So he telegraphed back--"Fifty guineas, and a guinea
+a mile from London."
+
+So, as Christopher Staines sat at an early breakfast, with the
+carriage waiting to take him to the train, two notes were brought
+him on a salver.
+
+They were both directed by Lady Cicely Treherne.  One of them
+contained a few kind and feeling words of gratitude and esteem; the
+other, a check, drawn by the earl's steward, for one hundred and
+thirty guineas.
+
+He bowled up to London, and told it all to Rosa.  She sparkled with
+pride, affection, and joy.
+
+"Now, who says you are not a genius?" she cried.  "A hundred and
+thirty guineas for one fee!  Now, if you love your wife as she
+loves you--you will set up a brougham."
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Doctor Staines begged leave to distinguish; he had not said he
+would set up a carriage at the first one hundred guinea fee, but
+only that he would not set up one before.  There are misguided
+people who would call this logic: but Rosa said it was
+equivocating, and urged him so warmly that at last he burst out,
+"Who can go on forever saying 'No,' to the only creature he
+loves?"--and caved.  In forty-eight hours more a brougham waited at
+Mrs. Staines's door.  The servant engaged to drive it was Andrew
+Pearman, a bachelor, and, hitherto, an under-groom.  He readily
+consented to be coachman, and to do certain domestic work as well.
+So Mrs. Staines had a man-servant as well as a carriage.
+
+Ere long, three or four patients called, or wrote, one after the
+other.  These Rosa set down to brougham, and crowed; she even
+crowed to Lady Cicely Treherne, to whose influence, and not to
+brougham's, every one of these patients was owing.  Lady Cicely
+kissed her, and demurely enjoyed the poor soul's self-satisfaction.
+
+Staines himself, while he drove to or from these patients, felt
+more sanguine, and buoyed as he was by the consciousness of
+ability, began to hope he had turned the corner.
+
+He sent an account of Lord Ayscough's case to a medical magazine:
+and so full is the world of flunkeyism, that this article, though
+he withheld the name, retaining only the title, got the literary
+wedge in for him at once: and in due course he became a paid
+contributor to two medical organs, and used to study and write
+more, and indent the little stone yard less than heretofore.
+
+It was about this time circumstances made him acquainted with
+Phoebe Dale.  Her intermediate history I will dispose of in fewer
+words than it deserves.  Her ruin, Mr. Reginald Falcon, was
+dismissed from his club, for marking high cards on the back with
+his nail.  This stopped his remaining resource--borrowing: so he
+got more and more out at elbows, till at last he came down to
+hanging about billiard-rooms, and making a little money by
+concealing his game; from that, however, he rose to be a marker.
+
+Having culminated to that, he wrote and proposed marriage to Miss
+Dale, in a charming letter: she showed it to her father with pride.
+
+Now, if his vanity, his disloyalty, his falsehood, his ingratitude,
+and his other virtues had not stood in the way, he would have done
+this three years ago, and been jumped at.
+
+But the offer came too late; not for Phoebe--she would have taken
+him in a moment--but for her friends.  A baited hook is one thing,
+a bare hook is another.  Farmer Dale had long discovered where
+Phoebe's money went: he said not a word to her; but went up to town
+like a shot; found Falcon out, and told him he mustn't think to eat
+his daughter's bread.  She should marry a man that could make a
+decent livelihood; and if she was to run away with HIM, why they'd
+starve together.  The farmer was resolute, and spoke very loud,
+like one that expects opposition, and comes prepared to quarrel.
+Instead of that, this artful rogue addressed him with deep respect
+and an affected veneration, that quite puzzled the old man;
+acquiesced in every word, expressed contrition for his past
+misdeeds, and told the farmer he had quite determined to labor with
+his hands.  "You know, farmer," said he, "I am not the only
+gentleman who has come to that in the present day.  Now, all my
+friends that have seen my sketches, assure me I am a born painter;
+and a painter I'll be--for love of Phoebe."
+
+The farmer made a wry face.  "Painter! that is a sorry sort of a
+trade."
+
+"You are mistaken.  It's the best trade going.  There are gentlemen
+making their thousands a year by it."
+
+"Not in our parts, there bain't.  Stop a bit.  What be ye going to
+paint, sir?  Housen, or folk?"
+
+"Oh, hang it, not houses.  Figures, landscapes."
+
+"Well, ye might just make shift to live at it, I suppose, with here
+and there a signboard.  They are the best paid, our way: but, Lord
+bless ye, THEY wants headpiece.  Well, sir, let me see your work.
+Then we'll talk further."
+
+"I'll go to work this afternoon," said Falcon eagerly; then with
+affected surprise, "Bless me; I forgot.  I have no palette, no
+canvas, no colors.  You couldn't lend me a couple of sovereigns to
+buy them, could you?"
+
+"Ay, sir; I could.  But I woan't.  I'll lend ye the things, though,
+if you have a mind to go with me and buy 'em."
+
+Falcon agreed, with a lofty smile; and the purchases were made.
+
+Mr. Falcon painted a landscape or two out of his imagination.  The
+dealers to whom he took them declined them; one advised the
+gentleman painter to color tea-boards.  "That's your line," said
+he.
+
+"The world has no taste," said the gentleman painter: "but it has
+got lots of vanity: I'll paint portraits."
+
+He did; and formidable ones: his portraits were amazingly like the
+people, and yet unlike men and women, especially about the face.
+One thing, he didn't trouble with lights and shades, but went slap
+at the features.
+
+His brush would never have kept him; but he carried an instrument,
+in the use of which he was really an artist, viz., his tongue.  By
+wheedling and underselling--for he only charged a pound for the
+painted canvas--he contrived to live; then he aspired to dress as
+well as live.  With this second object in view, he hit upon a
+characteristic expedient.
+
+He used to prowl about, and when he saw a young woman sweeping the
+afternoon streets with a long silk train, and, in short, dressed to
+ride in the park, yet parading the streets, he would take his hat
+off to her, with an air of profound respect, and ask permission to
+take her portrait.  Generally he met a prompt rebuff; but if the
+fair was so unlucky as to hesitate a single moment, he told her a
+melting tale; he had once driven his four-in-hand; but by indorsing
+his friends' bills, was reduced to painting likeness, admirable
+likenesses in oil, only a guinea each.
+
+His piteous tale provoked more gibes than pity, but as he had no
+shame, the rebuffs went for nothing: he actually did get a few
+sitters by his audacity: and some of the sitters actually took the
+pictures, and paid for them; others declined them with fury as soon
+as they were finished.  These he took back with a piteous sigh,
+that sometimes extracted half a crown.  Then he painted over the
+rejected one and let it dry; so that sometimes a paid portrait
+would present a beauty enthroned on the debris of two or three
+rivals, and that is where few beauties would object to sit.
+
+All this time he wrote nice letters to Phoebe, and adopted the tone
+of the struggling artist, and the true lover, who wins his bride by
+patience, perseverance, and indomitable industry; a babbled of
+"Self Help."
+
+Meantime, Phoebe was not idle: an excellent business woman, she
+took immediate advantage of a new station that was built near the
+farm, to send up milk, butter, and eggs to London.  Being genuine,
+they sold like wildfire.  Observing that, she extended her
+operations, by buying of other farmers, and forwarding to London:
+and then, having of course an eye to her struggling artist, she
+told her father she must have a shop in London, and somebody in it
+she could depend upon.
+
+"With all my heart, wench," said he; "but it must not be thou.  I
+can't spare thee."
+
+"May I have Dick, father?"
+
+"Dick! he is rather young."
+
+"But he is very quick, father, and minds every word I tell him."
+
+"Ay, he is as fond of thee as ever a cow was of a calf.  Well, you
+can try him."
+
+So the love-sick woman of business set up a little shop, and put
+her brother Dick in it, and all to see more of her struggling
+artist.  She stayed several days, to open the little shop, and
+start the business.  She advertised pure milk, and challenged
+scientific analysis of everything she sold.  This came of her being
+a reader; she knew, by the journals, that we live in a sinful and
+adulterating generation, and anything pure must be a godsend to the
+poor poisoned public.
+
+Now, Dr. Staines, though known to the profession as a diagnost, was
+also an analyst, and this challenge brought him down on Phoebe
+Dale.  He told her he was a physician, and in search of pure food
+for his own family--would she really submit the milk to analysis?
+
+Phoebe smiled an honest country smile, and said, "Surely, sir."
+She gave him every facility, and he applied those simple tests
+which are commonly used in France, though hardly known in England.
+
+He found it perfectly pure, and told her so; and gazed at Phoebe
+for a moment, as a phenomenon.
+
+She smiled again at that, her broad country smile.  "That is a
+wonder in London, I dare say.  It's my belief half the children
+that die here are perished with watered milk.  Well, sir, we shan't
+have that on our souls, father and I; he is a farmer in Essex.
+This comes a many miles, this milk."
+
+Staines looked in her face, with kindly approval marked on his own
+eloquent features.  She blushed a little at so fixed a regard.
+Then he asked her if she would supply him with milk, butter, and
+eggs.
+
+"Why, if you mean sell you them, yes, sir, with pleasure.  But for
+sending them home to you in this big town, as some do, I can't; for
+there's only brother Dick and me: it is an experiment like."
+
+"Very well," said Staines: "I will send for them."
+
+"Thank you kindly, sir.  I hope you won't be offended, sir; but we
+only sell for ready money."
+
+"All the better: my order at home is, no bills."
+
+When he was gone, Phoebe, assuming vast experience, though this was
+only her third day, told Dick that was one of the right sort: "and
+oh, Dick," said she, "did you notice his eye?"
+
+"Not particklar, sister."
+
+"There now; the boy is blind.  Why, 'twas like a jewel.  Such an
+eye I never saw in a man's head, nor a woman's neither."
+
+Staines told his wife about Phoebe and her brother, and spoke of
+her with a certain admiration that raised Rosa's curiosity, and
+even that sort of vague jealousy that fires at bare praise.  "I
+should like to see this phenomenon," said she.  "You shall," said
+he.  "I have to call on Mrs. Manly.  She lives near.  I will drop
+you at the little shop, and come back for you."
+
+He did so, and that gave Rosa a quarter of an hour to make her
+purchases.  When he came back he found her conversing with Phoebe,
+as if they were old friends, and Dick glaring at his wife with awe
+and admiration.  He could hardly get her away.
+
+She was far more extravagant in her praises than Dr. Staines had
+been.  "What a good creature!" said she.  "And how clever!  To
+think of her setting up a shop like that all by herself; for her
+Dick is only seventeen."
+
+Dr. Staines recommended the little shop wherever he went, and even
+extended its operations.  He asked Phoebe to get her own wheat
+ground at home, and send the flour up in bushel bags.  "These
+assassins, the bakers," said he, "are putting copper into the flour
+now, as well as alum.  Pure flour is worth a fancy price to any
+family.  With that we can make the bread of life.  What you buy in
+the shops is the bread of death."
+
+Dick was a good, sharp boy, devoted to his sister.  He stuck to the
+shop in London, and handed the money to Phoebe, when she came for
+it.  She worked for it in Essex, and extended her country
+connection for supply as the retail business increased.
+
+Staines wrote an article on pure food, and incidentally mentioned
+the shop as a place where flour, milk, and butter were to be had
+pure.  This article was published in the Lancet, and caused quite a
+run upon the little shop.  By and by Phoebe enlarged it, for which
+there were great capabilities, and made herself a pretty little
+parlor, and there she and Dick sat to Falcon for their portraits;
+here, too, she hung his rejected landscapes.  They were fair in her
+eyes; what matter whether they were like nature? his hand had
+painted them.  She knew, from him, that everybody else had rejected
+them.  With all the more pride and love did she have them framed in
+gold, and hung up with the portraits in her little sanctum.
+
+For a few months Phoebe Dale was as happy as she deserved to be.
+Her lover was working, and faithful to her--at least she saw no
+reason to doubt it.  He came to see her every evening, and seemed
+devoted to her: would sit quietly with her, or walk with her, or
+take her to a play, or a music-hall--at her expense.
+
+She now lived in a quiet elysium, with a bright and rapturous dream
+of the future; for she saw she had hit on a good vein of business,
+and should soon be independent, and able to indulge herself with a
+husband, and ask no man's leave.
+
+She sent to Essex for a dairymaid, and set her to churn milk into
+butter, coram populo, at a certain hour every morning.  This made a
+new sensation.  At other times the woman was employed to deliver
+milk and cream to a few favored customers.
+
+Mrs. Staines dropped in now and then, and chatted with her.  Her
+sweet face and her naivete won Phoebe's heart; and one day, as
+happiness is apt to be communicative, she let out to her, in reply
+to a feeler or two as to whether she was quite alone, that she was
+engaged to be married to a gentleman.  "But he is not rich, ma'am,"
+said Phoebe plaintively; "he has had trouble: obliged to work for
+his living, like me; he painted these pictures, EVERY ONE OF THEM.
+If it was not making too free, and you could spare a guinea--he
+charges no more for the picture, only you must go to the expense of
+the frame."
+
+"Of course I will," said Rosa warmly. "I'll sit for it here, any
+day you like."
+
+Now, Rosa said this, out of her ever ready kindness, not to wound
+Phoebe: but having made the promise, she kept clear of the place
+for some days, hoping Phoebe would forget all about it. Meantime
+she sent her husband to buy.
+
+In about a fortnight she called again, primed with evasions if she
+should be asked to sit; but nothing of the kind was proposed.
+Phoebe was dealing when she went in.  The customers disposed of,
+she said to Mrs. Staines, "Oh, ma'am, I am glad you are come.  I
+have something I should like to show you."  She took her into the
+parlor, and made her sit down: then she opened a drawer, and took
+out a very small substance that looked like a tear of ground glass,
+and put it on the table before her.  "There, ma'am," said she,
+"that is all he has had for painting a friend's picture."
+
+"Oh! what a shame."
+
+"His friend was going abroad--to Natal; to his uncle that farms out
+there, and does very well; it is a first-rate part, if you take out
+a little stock with you, and some money; so my one gave him credit,
+and when the letter came with that postmark, he counted on a five-
+pound note; but the letter only said he had got no money yet, but
+sent him something as a keepsake: and there was this little stone.
+Poor fellow! he flung it down in a passion; he was so disappointed."
+
+Phoebe's great gray eyes filled; and Rosa gave a little coo of
+sympathy that was very womanly and lovable.
+
+Phoebe leaned her cheek on her hand, and said thoughtfully, "I
+picked it up, and brought it away; for, after all--don't you think,
+ma'am, it is very strange that a friend should send it all that
+way, if it was worth nothing at all?"
+
+"It is impossible.  He could not be so heartless."
+
+"And do you know, ma'am, when I take it up in my fingers, it
+doesn't feel like a thing that was worth nothing."
+
+"No more it does: it makes my fingers tremble.  May I take it home,
+and show it my husband? he is a great physician and knows everything."
+
+"I am sure I should be obliged to you, ma'am."
+
+Rosa drove home, on purpose to show it to Christopher.  She ran
+into his study: "Oh, Christopher, please look at that.  You know
+that good creature we have our flour and milk and things of.  She
+is engaged, and he is a painter.  Oh, such daubs!  He painted a
+friend, and the friend sent that home all the way from Natal, and
+he dashed it down, and SHE picked it up, and what is it? ground
+glass, or a pebble, or what?"
+
+"Humph!--by its shape, and the great--brilliancy--and refraction of
+light, on this angle, where the stone has got polished by rubbing
+against other stones, in the course of ages, I'm inclined to think
+it is--a diamond."
+
+"A diamond!" shrieked Rosa.  "No wonder my fingers trembled.  Oh,
+can it be?  Oh, you good, cold-blooded Christie!--Poor things!--
+Come along, Diamond!  Oh you beauty!  Oh you duck!"
+
+"Don't be in such a hurry.  I only said I thought it was a diamond.
+Let me weigh it against water, and then I shall KNOW."
+
+He took it to his little laboratory, and returned in a few minutes,
+and said, "Yes.  It is just three times and a half heavier than
+water.  It is a diamond."
+
+"Are you positive?"
+
+"I'll stake my existence."
+
+"What is it worth?"
+
+"My dear, I'm not a jeweller: but it is very large and pear-shaped,
+and I see no flaw: I don't think you could buy it for less than
+three hundred pounds."
+
+"Three hundred pounds!  It is worth three hundred pounds."
+
+"Or sell it for more than a hundred and fifty pounds."
+
+"A hundred and fifty!  It is worth a hundred and fifty pounds."
+
+"Why, my dear, one would think you had invented 'the diamond.'
+Show me how to crystallize carbon, and I will share your
+enthusiasm."
+
+"Oh, I leave you to carbonize crystal.  I prefer to gladden hearts:
+and I will do it this minute, with my diamond."
+
+"Do, dear; and I will take that opportunity to finish my article on
+Adulteration."
+
+Rosa drove off to Phoebe Dale.
+
+Now Phoebe was drinking tea with Reginald Falcon, in her little
+parlor.  "Who is that, I wonder?" said she, when the carriage drew
+up.
+
+Reginald drew back a corner of the gauze curtain which had been
+drawn across the little glass door leading from the shop.
+
+"It is a lady, and a beautiful--Oh! let me get out."  And he rushed
+out at the door leading to the kitchen, not to be recognized.
+
+This set Phoebe all in a flutter, and the next moment Mrs. Staines
+tapped at the little door, then opened it, and peeped.  "Good news!
+may I come in?"
+
+"Surely," said Phoebe, still troubled and confused by Reginald's
+strange agitation.
+
+"There!  It is a diamond!" screamed Rosa.  "My husband knew it
+directly.  He knows everything.  If ever you are ill, go to him and
+nobody else--by the refraction, and the angle, and its being three
+times and a half as heavy as water.  It is worth three hundred
+pounds to buy, and a hundred and fifty pounds to sell."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"So don't you go throwing it away, as he did.  (In a whisper.)  Two
+teacups?  Was that him?  I have driven him away.  I am so sorry.
+I'll go; and then you can tell him.  Poor fellow!"
+
+"Oh, ma'am, don't go yet," said Phoebe, trembling.  "I haven't half
+thanked you."
+
+"Oh, bother thanks.  Kiss me; that is the way."
+
+"May I?"
+
+"You may, and must.  There--and there--and there.  Oh dear, what
+nice things good luck and happiness are, and how sweet to bring
+them for once."
+
+Upon this Phoebe and she had a nice little cry together, and Mrs.
+Staines went off refreshed thereby, and as gay as a lark, pointing
+slyly at the door, and making faces to Phoebe that she knew he was
+there, and she only retired, out of her admirable discretion, that
+they might enjoy the diamond together.
+
+When she was gone, Reginald, whose eye and ear had been at the
+keyhole, alternately gloating on the face and drinking the accents
+of the only woman he had ever really loved, came out, looking pale,
+and strangely disturbed; and sat down at table, without a word.
+
+Phoebe came back to him, full of the diamond.  "Did you hear what
+she said, my dear?  It is a diamond; it is worth a hundred and
+fifty pounds at least.  Why, what ails you?  Ah! to be sure! you
+know that lady."
+
+"I have cause to know her.  Cursed jilt!"
+
+"You seem a good deal put out at the sight of her."
+
+"It took me by surprise, that is all."
+
+"It takes me by surprise too.  I thought you were cured.  I thought
+MY turn had come at last."
+
+Reginald met this in sullen silence.  Then Phoebe was sorry she had
+said it; for, after all, it wasn't the man's fault if an old
+sweetheart had run into the room, and given him a start.  So she
+made him some fresh tea, and pressed him kindly to try her home-
+made bread and butter.
+
+My lord relaxed his frown and consented, and of course they talked
+diamond.
+
+He told her, loftily, he must take a studio, and his sitters must
+come to him, and must no longer expect to be immortalized for one
+pound.  It must be two pounds for a bust, and three pounds for a
+kitcat.
+
+"Nay, but, my dear," said Phoebe, "they will pay no more because
+you have a diamond."
+
+"Then they will have to go unpainted," said Mr. Falcon.
+
+This was intended for a threat.  Phoebe instinctively felt that it
+might not be so received; she counselled moderation.  "It is a
+great thing to have earned a diamond," said she: "but 'tis only
+once in a life.  Now, be ruled by me: go on just as you are.  Sell
+the diamond, and give me the money to keep for you.  Why, you might
+add a little to it, and so would I, till we made it up two hundred
+pounds.  And if you could only show two hundred pounds you had made
+and laid by, father would let us marry, and I might keep this shop--
+it pays well, I can tell you--and keep my gentleman in a sly
+corner; you need never be seen in it."
+
+"Ay, ay," said he, "that is the small game.  But I am a man that
+have always preferred the big game.  I shall set up my studio, and
+make enough to keep us both.  So give me the stone, if you please.
+I shall take it round to them all, and the rogues won't get it out
+of ME for a hundred and fifty; why, it is as big as a nut."
+
+"No, no, Reginald.  Money has always made mischief between you and
+me.  You never had fifty pounds yet, you didn't fall into
+temptation.  Do pray let me keep it for you; or else sell it--I
+know how to sell; nobody better--and keep the money for a good
+occasion."
+
+"Is it yours, or mine?" said he, sulkily.
+
+"Why yours, dear; you earned it."
+
+"Then give it me, please."  And he almost forced it out of her
+hand.
+
+So now she sat down and cried over this piece of good luck, for her
+heart filled with forebodings.
+
+He laughed at her, but at last had the grace to console her, and
+assure her she was tormenting herself for nothing.
+
+"Time will show," said she, sadly.
+
+Time did show.
+
+Three or four days he came, as usual, to laugh her out of her
+forebodings.  But presently his visits ceased.  She knew what that
+meant: he was living like a gentleman, melting his diamond, and
+playing her false with the first pretty face he met.
+
+This blow, coming after she had been so happy, struck Phoebe Dale
+stupid with grief.  The line on her high forehead deepened; and at
+night she sat with her hands before her, sighing, and sighing, and
+listening for the footsteps that never came.
+
+"Oh, Dick!" she said, "never you love any one.  I am aweary of my
+life.  And to think that, but for that diamond--oh, dear! oh, dear!
+oh, dear!"
+
+Then Dick used to try and comfort her in his way, and often put his
+arm round her neck, and gave her his rough but honest sympathy.
+Dick's rare affection was her one drop of comfort; it was something
+to relieve her swelling heart.
+
+"Oh, Dick!" she said to him one night, "I wish I had married him."
+
+"What, to be ill-used?"
+
+"He couldn't use me worse.  I have been wife, and mother, and
+sweetheart, and all, to him; and to be left like this.  He treats
+me like the dirt beneath his feet."
+
+"'Tis your own fault, Phoebe, partly.  You say the word, and I'll
+break every bone in his carcass."
+
+"What, do him a mischief!  Why, I'd rather die than harm a hair of
+his head.  You must never lift a hand to him, or I shall hate you."
+
+"Hate ME, Phoebe?"
+
+"Ay, boy: I should.  God forgive me: 'tis no use deceiving
+ourselves; when a woman loves a man she despises, never you come
+between them; there's no reason in her love, so it is incurable.
+One comfort, it can't go on forever; it must kill me, before my
+time and so best.  If I was only a mother, and had a little
+Reginald to dandle on my knee and gloat upon, till he spent his
+money, and came back to me.  That's why I said I wished I was his
+wife.  Oh! why does God fill a poor woman's bosom with love, and
+nothing to spend it on but a stone; for sure his heart must be one.
+If I had only something that would let me always love it, a little
+toddling thing at my knee, that would always let me look at it, and
+love it, something too young to be false to me, too weak to run
+away from my long--ing--arms--and--year--ning heart!"  Then came a
+burst of agony, and moans of desolation, till poor puzzled Dick
+blubbered loudly at her grief; and then her tears flowed in
+streams.
+
+Trouble on trouble.  Dick himself got strangely out of sorts, and
+complained of shivers.  Phoebe sent him to bed early, and made him
+some white wine whey very hot.  In the morning he got up, and said
+he was better; but after breakfast he was violently sick, and
+suffered several returns of nausea before noon.  "One would think I
+was poisoned," said he.
+
+At one o'clock he was seized with a kind of spasm in the throat
+that lasted so long it nearly choked him.
+
+Then Phoebe got frightened, and sent to the nearest surgeon.  He
+did not hurry, and poor Dick had another frightful spasm just as he
+came in.
+
+"It is hysterical," said the surgeon.  "No disease of the heart, is
+there?  Give him a little sal-volatile every half hour."
+
+In spite of the sal-volatile these terrible spasms seized him every
+half hour; and now he used to spring off the bed with a cry of
+terror when they came; and each one left him weaker and weaker; he
+had to be carried back by the women.
+
+A sad, sickening fear seized on Phoebe.  She left Dick with the
+maid, and tying on her bonnet in a moment, rushed wildly down the
+street, asking the neighbors for a great doctor, the best that
+could be had for money.  One sent her east a mile, another west,
+and she was almost distracted, when who should drive up but Dr. and
+Mrs. Staines, to make purchases.  She did not know his name, but
+she knew he was a doctor.  She ran to the window, and cried, "Oh,
+doctor, my brother!  Oh, pray come to him.  Oh! oh!"
+
+Dr. Staines got quickly, but calmly, out; told his wife to wait;
+and followed Phoebe up-stairs.  She told him in a few agitated
+words how Dick had been taken, and all the symptoms; especially
+what had alarmed her so, his springing off the bed when the spasm
+came.
+
+Dr. Staines told her to hold the patient up.  He lost not a moment,
+but opened his mouth resolutely, and looked down.
+
+"The glottis is swollen," said he: then he felt his hands, and
+said, with the grave, terrible calm of experience, "He is dying."
+
+"Oh, no! no!  Oh, doctor, save him! save him!"
+
+"Nothing can save him, unless we had a surgeon on the spot.  Yes, I
+might save him, if you have the courage: opening his windpipe
+before the next spasm is his one chance."
+
+"Open his windpipe!  Oh, doctor!  It will kill him.  Let me look at
+you."
+
+She looked hard in his face.  It gave her confidence.
+
+"Is it the only chance?"
+
+"The only one: and it is flying while we chatter."
+
+"DO IT."
+
+He whipped out his lancet.
+
+"But I can't look on it.  I trust to you and my Saviour's mercy."
+
+She fell on her knees, and bowed her head in prayer.
+
+Staines seized a basin, put it by the bedside, made an incision in
+the windpipe, and got Dick down on his stomach, with his face over
+the bedside.  Some blood ran, but not much.  "Now!" he cried,
+cheerfully, "a small bellows!  There's one in your parlor.  Run."
+
+Phoebe ran for it, and at Dr. Staines' direction lifted Dick a
+little, while the bellows, duly cleansed, were gently applied to
+the aperture in the windpipe, and the action of the lungs
+delicately aided by this primitive but effectual means.
+
+He showed Phoebe how to do it, tore a leaf out of his pocket-book,
+wrote a hasty direction to an able surgeon near, and sent his wife
+off with it in the carriage.
+
+Phoebe and he never left the patient till the surgeon came with all
+the instruments required; amongst the rest, with a big, tortuous
+pair of nippers, with which he could reach the glottis, and snip
+it.  But they consulted, and thought it wiser to continue the surer
+method; and so a little tube was neatly inserted into Dick's
+windpipe, and his throat bandaged; and by this aperture he did his
+breathing for some little time.
+
+Phoebe nursed him like a mother; and the terror and the joy did her
+good, and made her less desolate.
+
+Dick was only just well when both of them were summoned to the
+farm, and arrived only just in time to receive their father's
+blessing and his last sigh.
+
+Their elder brother, a married man, inherited the farm, and was
+executor.  Phoebe and Dick were left fifteen hundred pounds apiece,
+on condition of their leaving England and going to Natal.
+
+They knew directly what that meant.  Phoebe was to be parted from a
+bad man, and Dick was to comfort her for the loss.
+
+When this part of the will was read to Phoebe, she turned faint,
+and only her health and bodily vigor kept her from swooning right
+away.
+
+But she yielded.  "It is the will of the dead," said she, "and I
+will obey it; for, oh, if I had but listened to him more when he
+was alive to advise me, I should not sit here now, sick at heart
+and dry-eyed, when I ought to be thinking only of the good friend
+that is gone."
+
+When she had come to this she became feverishly anxious to be gone.
+She busied herself in purchasing agricultural machines, and stores,
+and even stock; and to see her pinching the beasts' ribs to find
+their condition, and parrying all attempts to cheat her, you would
+never have believed she could be a love-sick woman.
+
+Dick kept her up to the mark.  He only left her to bargain with the
+master of a good vessel; for it was no trifle to take out horses
+and cows, and machines, and bales of cloth, cotton, and linen.
+
+When that was settled they came in to town together, and Phoebe
+bought shrewdly, at wholesale houses in the city, for cash, and
+would have bargains: and the little shop in ----- Street was turned
+into a warehouse.
+
+They were all ardor, as colonists should be; and what pleased Dick
+most, she never mentioned Falcon; yet he learned from the maid that
+worthy had been there twice, looking very seedy.
+
+The day drew near.  Dick was in high spirits.
+
+"We shall soon make our fortune out there," he said; "and I'll get
+you a good husband."
+
+She shuddered, but said nothing.
+
+The evening before they were to sail, Phoebe sat alone, in her
+black dress, tired with work, and asking herself, sick at heart,
+could she ever really leave England, when the door opened softly,
+and Reginald Falcon, shabbily dressed, came in, and threw himself
+into a chair.
+
+She started up with a scream, then sank down again, trembling, and
+turned her face to the wall.
+
+"So you are going to run away from me!" said he savagely.
+
+"Ay, Reginald," said she meekly.
+
+"This is your fine love, is it?"
+
+"You have worn it out, dear," she said softly, without turning her
+head from the wall.
+
+"I wish I could say as much; but, curse it, every time I leave you
+I learn to love you more.  I am never really happy but when I am
+with you."
+
+"Bless you for saying that, dear.  I often thought you MUST find
+that out one day; but you took too long."
+
+"Oh, better late than never.  Phoebe!  Can you have the heart to go
+to the Cape, and leave me all alone in the world, with nobody that
+really cares for me?  Surely you are not obliged to go."
+
+"Yes; my father left Dick and me fifteen hundred pounds apiece to
+go: that was the condition.  Poor Dick loves his unhappy sister.
+He won't go without me--I should be his ruin--poor Dick, that
+really loves me; and he lay a-dying here, and the good doctor and
+me--God bless him--we brought him back from the grave.  Ah, you
+little know what I have gone through.  You were not here.  Catch
+you being near me when I am in trouble.  There, I must go.  I must
+go.  I will go; if I fling myself into the sea half way."
+
+"And, if you do, I'll take a dose of poison; for I have thrown away
+the truest heart, the sweetest, most unselfish, kindest, generous--
+oh! oh! oh!"
+
+And he began to howl.
+
+This set Phoebe sobbing.  "Don't cry, dear," she murmured through
+her tears; "if you have really any love for me, come with me."
+
+"What, leave England, and go to a desert?"
+
+"Love can make a desert a garden."
+
+"Phoebe, I'll do anything else.  I'll swear not to leave your side.
+I'll never look at any other face but yours.  But I can't live in
+Africa."
+
+"I know you can't.  It takes a little real love to go there with a
+poor girl like me.  Ah, well, I'd have made you so happy.  We are
+not poor emigrants.  I have a horse for you to ride, and guns to
+shoot; and me and Dick would do all the work for you.  But there
+are others here you can't leave for me.  Well, then, good-by, dear.
+In Africa, or here, I shall always love you; and many a salt tear I
+shall shed for you yet, many a one I have, as well you know.  God
+bless you.  Pray for poor Phoebe, that goes against her will to
+Africa, and leaves her heart with thee."
+
+This was too much even for the selfish Reginald.  He kneeled at her
+knees, and took her hand, and kissed it, and actually shed a tear
+or two over it.
+
+She could not speak.  He had no hope of changing her resolution;
+and presently he heard Dick's voice outside, so he got up to avoid
+him.  "I'll come again in the morning, before you go."
+
+"Oh, no! no!" she gasped.  "Unless you want me to die at your feet.
+I am almost dead now."
+
+Reginald slipped out by the kitchen.
+
+Dick came in, and found his sister leaning with her head back
+against the wall.  "Why, Phoebe," said he, "whatever is the
+matter?" and he took her by the shoulder.
+
+She moaned, and he felt her all limp and powerless.
+
+"What is it, lass?  Whatever is the matter?  Is it about going
+away?"
+
+She would not speak for a long time.
+
+When she did speak, it was to say something for which my male
+reader may not be prepared.  But it will not surprise the women.
+
+"O Dick--forgive me!"
+
+"Why, what for?"
+
+"Forgive me, or else kill me: I don't care which."
+
+"I do, though.  There, I forgive you.  Now what's your crime?"
+
+"I can't go.  Forgive me!"
+
+"Can't go?"
+
+"I can't.  Forgive me!"
+
+"I'm blessed if I don't believe that vagabond has been here
+tormenting of you again."
+
+"Oh, don't miscall him.  He is penitent.  Yes, Dick, he has been
+here crying to me--and I can't leave him.  I can't--I can't.  Dear
+Dick! you are young and stout-hearted; take all the things over,
+and make your fortune out there, and leave your poor foolish sister
+behind.  I should only fling myself into the salt sea if I left him
+now, and that would be peace to me, but a grief to thee."
+
+"Lordsake, Phoebe, don't talk so.  I can't go without you.  And do
+but think, why, the horses are on board by now, and all the gear.
+It's my belief a good hiding is all you want, to bring you to your
+senses; but I han't the heart to give you one, worse luck.  Blessed
+if I know what to say or do."
+
+"I won't go!" cried Phoebe, turning violent all of a sudden.  "No,
+not if I am dragged to the ship by the hair of my head.  Forgive
+me!"  And with that word she was a mouse again.
+
+"Eh, but women are kittle cattle to drive," said poor Dick
+ruefully.  And down he sat at a nonplus, and very unhappy.
+
+Phoebe sat opposite, sullen, heart-sick, wretched to the core; but
+determined not to leave Reginald.
+
+Then came an event that might have been foreseen, yet it took them
+both by surprise.
+
+A light step was heard, and a graceful, though seedy, figure
+entered the room with a set speech in his mouth: "Phoebe, you are
+right.  I owe it to your long and faithful affection to make a
+sacrifice for you.  I will go to Africa with you.  I will go to the
+end of the world, sooner than you shall say I care for any woman on
+earth but you."
+
+Both brother and sister were so unprepared for this, that they
+could hardly realize it at first.
+
+Phoebe turned her great, inquiring eyes on the speaker, and it was
+a sight to see amazement, doubt, hope, and happiness animating her
+features, one after another.
+
+"Is this real?" said she.
+
+"I will sail with you to-morrow, Phoebe; and I will make you a good
+husband, if you will have me."
+
+"That is spoke like a man," said Dick.  "You take him at his word,
+Phoebe; and if he ill-uses you out there, I'll break every bone in
+his skin."
+
+"How dare you threaten him?" said Phoebe.  "You had best leave the
+room."
+
+Out went poor Dick, with the tear in his eye at being snubbed so.
+While he was putting up the shutters, Phoebe was making love to her
+pseudo penitent.  "My dear," said she, "trust yourself to me.  You
+don't know all my love yet; for I have never been your wife, and I
+would not be your jade; that is the only thing I ever refused you.
+Trust yourself to me.  Why, you never found happiness with others;
+try it with me.  It shall be the best day's work you ever did,
+going out in the ship with me.  You don't know how happy a loving
+wife can make her husband.  I'll pet you out there as man was never
+petted.  And besides, it isn't for life; Dick and me will soon make
+a fortune out there, and then I'll bring you home, and see you
+spend it any way you like but one.  Oh, how I love you! do you love
+me a little?  I worship the ground you walk on.  I adore every hair
+of your head!"  Her noble arm went round his neck in a moment, and
+the grandeur of her passion electrified him so far that he kissed
+her affectionately, if not quite so warmly as she did him: and so
+it was all settled.  The maid was discharged that night instead of
+the morning, and Reginald was to occupy her bed.  Phoebe went up-
+stairs with her heart literally on fire, to prepare his sleeping-
+room, and so Dick and Reginald had a word.
+
+"I say, Dick, how long will this voyage be?"
+
+"Two months, sir, I am told."
+
+"Please to cast your eyes on this suit of mine.  Don't you think it
+is rather seedy--to go to Africa with?  Why, I shall disgrace you
+on board the ship.  I say, Dick, lend me three sovs., just to buy a
+new suit at the slop-shop."
+
+"Well, brother-in-law," said Dick, "I don't see any harm in that.
+I'll go and fetch them for you."
+
+What does this sensible Dick do but go up-stairs to Phoebe, and
+say, "He wants three pounds to buy a suit; am I to lend it him?"
+
+Phoebe was shaking and patting her penitent's pillow.  She dropped
+it on the bed in dismay.  "Oh, Dick, not for all the world!  Why,
+if he had three sovereigns, he'd desert me at the water's edge.
+Oh, God help me, how I love him!  God forgive me, how I mistrust
+him!  Good Dick! kind Dick! say we have suits of clothes, and we'll
+fit him like a prince, as he ought to be, on board ship; but not a
+shilling of money: and, my dear, don't put the weight on ME.  You
+understand?"
+
+"Ay, mistress, I understand."
+
+"Good Dick!"
+
+"Oh, all right! and then don't you snap this here good, kind Dick's
+nose off at a word again."
+
+"Never.  I get wild if anybody threatens him.  Then I'm not myself.
+Forgive my hasty tongue.  You know I love you, dear!"
+
+"Oh, ay! you love me well enough.  But seems to me your love is
+precious like cold veal, and your love for that chap is hot roast
+beef."
+
+"Ha, ha, ha, ha!"
+
+"Oh, ye can laugh now, can ye?"
+
+"Ha, ha, ha!"
+
+"Well, the more of that music, the better for me."
+
+"Yes, dear; but go and tell him."
+
+Dick went down, and said, "I've got no money to spare, till I get
+to the Cape; but Phoebe has got a box full of suits, and I made her
+promise to keep it out.  She will dress you like a prince, you may
+be sure."
+
+"Oh, that is it, is it?" said Reginald dryly.
+
+Dick made no reply.
+
+At nine o'clock they were on board the vessel; at ten she weighed
+anchor, and a steam-vessel drew her down the river about thirty
+miles, then cast off, and left her to the south-easterly breeze.
+Up went sail after sail; she nodded her lofty head, and glided away
+for Africa.
+
+Phoebe shed a few natural tears at leaving the shores of Old
+England; but they soon dried.  She was demurely happy, watching her
+prize, and asking herself had she really secured it, and all in a
+few hours?
+
+They had a prosperous voyage: were married at Cape Town, and went
+up the country, bag and baggage, looking out for a good bargain in
+land.  Reginald was mounted on an English horse, and allowed to
+zigzag about, and shoot, and play, while his wife and brother-in-
+law marched slowly with their cavalcade.
+
+What with air, exercise, wholesome food, and smiles of welcome, and
+delicious petting, this egotist enjoyed himself finely.  He
+admitted as much.  Says he, one evening to his wife, who sat by him
+for the pleasure of seeing him feed, "It sounds absurd; but I never
+was so happy in all my life."
+
+At that, the celestial expression of her pastoral face, and the
+maternal gesture with which she drew her pet's head to her queenly
+bosom, was a picture for celibacy to gnash the teeth at.
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+During this period, the most remarkable things that happened to Dr.
+and Mrs. Staines were really those which I have related as
+connecting them with Phoebe Dale and her brother; to which I will
+now add that Dr. Staines detailed Dick's case in a remarkable
+paper, entitled "Oedema of the Glottis," and showed how the patient
+had been brought back from the grave by tracheotomy and artificial
+respiration.  He received a high price for this article.
+
+To tell the truth, he was careful not to admit that it was he who
+had opened the windpipe; so the credit of the whole operation was
+given to Mr. Jenkyn; and this gentleman was naturally pleased, and
+threw a good many consultation fees in Staines's way.
+
+The Lucases, to his great comfort--for he had an instinctive
+aversion to Miss Lucas--left London for Paris in August, and did
+not return all the year.
+
+In February he reviewed his year's work and twelve months'
+residence in the Bijou.  The pecuniary result was, outgoings, nine
+hundred and fifty pounds; income, from fees, two hundred and eighty
+pounds; writing, ninety pounds.
+
+He showed these figures to Mrs. Staines, and asked her if she could
+suggest any diminution of expenditure.  Could she do with less
+housekeeping money?
+
+"Oh, impossible!  You cannot think how the servants eat; and they
+won't touch our home-made bread."
+
+"The fools!  Why?"
+
+"Oh, because they think it costs us less.  Servants seem to me
+always to hate the people whose bread they eat."
+
+"More likely it is their vanity.  Nothing that is not paid for
+before their eyes seems good enough for them.  Well, dear, the
+bakers will revenge us.  But is there any other item we could
+reduce?  Dress?"
+
+"Dress!  Why, I spend nothing."
+
+"Forty-five pounds this year."
+
+"Well, I shall want none next year."
+
+"Well, then, Rosa, as there is nothing we can reduce, I must write
+more, and take more fees, or we shall be in the wrong box.  Only
+eight hundred and sixty pounds left of our little capital; and,
+mind, we have not another shilling in the world.  One comfort,
+there is no debt.  We pay ready money for everything."
+
+Rosa colored a little, but said nothing.
+
+Staines did his part nobly.  He read; he wrote; he paced the yard.
+He wore his old clothes in the house; he took off his new ones when
+he came in.  He was all genius, drudgery, patience.
+
+How Phoebe Dale would have valued him, co-operated with him, and
+petted him, if she had had the good luck to be his wife!
+
+The season came back, and with it Miss Lucas, towing a brilliant
+bride, Mrs. Vivian, young, rich, pretty, and gay, with a waist you
+could span, and athirst for pleasure.
+
+This lady was the first that ever made Rosa downright jealous.  She
+seemed to have everything the female heart could desire; and she
+was No. 1 with Miss Lucas this year.  Now, Rosa was No. 1 last
+season, and had weakly imagined that was to last forever.  But Miss
+Lucas had always a sort of female flame, and it never lasted two
+seasons.
+
+Rosa did not care so very much for Miss Lucas before, except as a
+convenient friend; but now she was mortified to tears at finding
+Miss Lucas made more fuss with another than with her.
+
+This foolish feeling spurred her to attempt a rivalry with Mrs.
+Vivian, in the very things where rivalry was hopeless.
+
+Miss Lucas gave both ladies tickets for a flower-show, where all
+the great folk were to be, princes and princesses, etc.
+
+"But I have nothing to wear," sighed Rosa.
+
+"Then you must get something, and mind it is not pink, please; for
+we must not clash in colors.  You know I'm dark, and pink becomes
+me.  (The selfish young brute was not half so dark as Rosa.)  Mine
+is coming from Worth's, in Paris, on purpose.  And this new Madame
+Cie, of Regent Street, has such a duck of a bonnet, just come from
+Paris.  She wanted to make me one from it; but I told her I would
+have none but the pattern bonnet--and she knows very well she can't
+pass a copy off on me.  Let me drive you up there, and you can see
+mine, and order one, if you like it."
+
+"Oh, thank you! let me just run and speak to my husband first."
+
+Staines was writing for the bare life, and a number of German books
+about him, slaving to make a few pounds--when in comes the buoyant
+figure and beaming face his soul delighted in.
+
+He laid down his work, to enjoy the sunbeam of love.
+
+"Oh, darling, I've only come in for a minute.  We are going to a
+flower-show on the 13th; everybody will be so beautifully dressed--
+especially that Mrs. Vivian.  I have got ten yards of beautiful
+blue silk in my wardrobe, but that is not enough to make a whole
+dress--everything takes so much stuff now.  Madame Cie does not
+care to make up dresses unless she finds the silk, but Miss Lucas
+says she thinks, to oblige a friend of hers, she would do it for
+once in a way.  You know, dear, it would only take a few yards
+more, and it would last as a dinner-dress for ever so long."
+
+Then she clasped him round the neck, and leaned her head upon his
+shoulder, and looked lovingly up in his face.  "I know you would
+like your Rosa to look as well as Mrs. Vivian."
+
+"No one ever looks as well, in my eyes, as my Rosa.  There, the
+dress will add nothing to your beauty; but go and get it, to please
+yourself; it is very considerate of you to have chosen something of
+which you have ten yards, already.  See, dear, I'm to receive
+twenty pounds for this article; if research was paid it ought to be
+a hundred.  I shall add it all to your allowance for dresses this
+year.  So no debt, mind; but come to me for everything."
+
+The two ladies drove off to Madame Cie's, a pretty shop lined with
+dark velvet and lace draperies.
+
+In the back room they were packing a lovely bridal dress, going off
+the following Saturday to New York.
+
+"What, send from America to London?"
+
+"Oh, dear, yes!" exclaimed Madame Cie.  "The American ladies are
+excellent customers.  They buy everything of the best, and the most
+expensive."
+
+"I have brought a new customer," said Miss Lucas; "and I want you to
+do a great favor, and that is to match a blue silk, and make her a
+pretty dress for the flower-show on the 13th."
+
+Madame Cie produced a white muslin polonaise, which she was just
+going to send home to the Princess -----, to be worn over mauve.
+
+"Oh, how pretty and simple!" exclaimed Miss Lucas.
+
+"I have some lace exactly like that," said Mrs. Staines.
+
+"Then why don't you have a polonaise?  The lace is the only
+expensive part, the muslin is a mere nothing; and it is such a
+useful dress, it can be worn over any silk."
+
+It was agreed Madame Cie was to send for the blue silk and the
+lace, and the dresses were to be tried on on Thursday.
+
+On Thursday, as Rosa went gayly into Madame Cie's back room to have
+the dresses tried on, Madame Cie said, "You have a beautiful lace
+shawl, but it wants arranging; in five minutes I could astonish you
+with what I could do to that shawl."
+
+"Oh, pray do," said Mrs. Staines.
+
+The dressmaker kept her word.  By the time the blue dress was tried
+on, Madame Cie had, with the aid of a few pins, plaits, and a bow
+of blue ribbon, transformed the half lace shawl into one of the
+smartest and distingue things imaginable; but when the bill came in
+at Christmas, for that five minutes' labor and distingue touch, she
+charged one pound eight.
+
+Madame Cie then told the ladies, in an artfully confidential tone,
+she had a quantity of black silk coming home, which she had
+purchased considerably below cost price; and that she should like
+to make them each a dress--not for her own sake, but theirs--as she
+knew they would never meet such a bargain again.  "You know, Miss
+Lucas," she continued, "we don't want our money, when we know our
+customers.  Christmas is soon enough for us."
+
+"Christmas is a long time off," thought the young wife, "nearly ten
+months.  I think I'll have a black silk, Madame Cie; but I must not
+say anything to the doctor about it just yet, or he might think me
+extravagant."
+
+"No one can ever think a lady extravagant for buying a black silk;
+it's such a useful dress; lasts forever--almost."
+
+Days, weeks, and months rolled on, and with them an ever-rolling
+tide of flower-shows, dinners, at-homes, balls, operas, lawn-
+parties, concerts, and theatres.
+
+Strange that in one house there should be two people who loved each
+other, yet their lives ran so far apart, except while they were
+asleep: the man all industry, self-denial, patience; the woman all
+frivolity, self-indulgence, and amusement; both chained to an oar,
+only--one in a working boat, the other in a painted galley.
+
+The woman got tired first, and her charming color waned sadly.  She
+came to him for medicine to set her up.  "I feel so languid."
+
+"No, no," said he; "no medicine can do the work of wholesome food
+and rational repose.  You lack the season of all natures, sleep.
+Dine at home three days running, and go to bed at ten."
+
+On this the doctor's wife went to a chemist for advice.  He gave
+her a pink stimulant; and, as stimulants have two effects, viz.,
+first to stimulate, and then to weaken, this did her no lasting
+good.  Dr. Staines cursed the London season, and threatened to
+migrate to Liverpool.
+
+But there was worse behind.
+
+Returning one day to his dressing-room, just after Rosa had come
+down-stairs, he caught sight of a red stain in a wash-hand-basin.
+He examined it; it was arterial blood.
+
+He went to her directly, and expressed his anxiety.
+
+"Oh, it is nothing," said she.
+
+"Nothing!  Pray, how often has it occurred?"
+
+"Once or twice.  I must take your advice, and be quiet, that is
+all."
+
+Staines examined the housemaid; she lied instinctively at first,
+seeing he was alarmed; but, being urged to tell the truth, said she
+had seen it repeatedly, and had told the cook.
+
+He went down-stairs again, and sat down, looking wretched.
+
+"Oh, dear!" said Rosa.  "What is the matter now?"
+
+"Rosa," said he, very gravely, "there are two people a woman is mad
+to deceive--her husband and her physician.  You have deceived
+both."
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+I suspect Dr. Staines merely meant to say that she had concealed
+from him an alarming symptom for several weeks; but she answered in
+a hurry, to excuse herself, and let the cat out of the bag--excuse
+my vulgarity.
+
+"It was all that Mrs. Vivian's fault.  She laughed at me so for not
+wearing them; and she has a waist you can span--the wretch!"
+
+"Oh, then, you have been wearing stays clandestinely?"
+
+"Why, you know I have.  Oh, what a stupid!  I have let it all out."
+
+"How could you do it, when you knew, by experience, it is your
+death?"
+
+"But it looks so beautiful, a tiny waist."
+
+"It looks as hideous as a Chinese foot, and, to the eye of science,
+far more disgusting; it is the cause of so many unlovely diseases."
+
+"Just tell me one thing; have you looked at Mrs. Vivian?"
+
+"Minutely.  I look at all your friends with great anxiety, knowing
+no animal more dangerous than a fool.  Vivian--a skinny woman, with
+a pretty face, lovely hair, good teeth, dying eyes"--
+
+"Yes, lovely!"
+
+"A sure proof of a disordered stomach--and a waist pinched in so
+unnaturally, that I said to myself, 'Where on earth does this idiot
+put her liver?'  Did you ever read of the frog who burst, trying to
+swell to an ox?  Well, here is the rivalry reversed; Mrs. Vivian is
+a bag of bones in a balloon; she can machine herself into a wasp;
+but a fine young woman like you, with flesh and muscle, must kill
+yourself three or four times before you can make your body as
+meagre, hideous, angular, and unnatural as Vivian's.  But all you
+ladies are mono-maniacs; one might as well talk sense to a gorilla.
+It brought you to the edge of the grave.  I saved you.  Yet you
+could go and--  God grant me patience.  So I suppose these
+unprincipled women lent you their stays to deceive your husband?"
+
+"No.  But they laughed at me so that--  Oh, Christie, I'm a wretch;
+I kept a pair at the Lucases, and a pair at Madame Cie's, and I put
+them on now and then."
+
+"But you never appeared here in them?"
+
+"What, before my tyrant?  Oh no, I dared not."
+
+"So you took them off before you came home?"
+
+Rosa hung her head, and said "Yes" in a reluctant whisper.
+
+"You spent your daylight dressing.  You dressed to go out; dressed
+again in stays; dressed again without them; and all to deceive your
+husband, and kill yourself, at the bidding of two shallow,
+heartless women, who would dance over your grave without a pang of
+remorse, or sentiment of any kind, since they live, like midges,
+ONLY TO DANCE IN THE SUN, AND SUCK SOME WORKER'S BLOOD."
+
+"Oh, Christie!  I'm so easily led.  I am too great a fool to live.
+Kill me!"
+
+And she kneeled down, and renewed the request, looking up in his
+face with an expression that might have disarmed Cain ipsum.
+
+He smiled superior.  "The question is, are you sorry you have been
+so thoughtless?"
+
+"Yes, dear.  Oh! oh!"
+
+"Will you be very good to make up?"
+
+"Oh, yes.  Only tell me how; for it does not come natural to poor
+me."
+
+"Keep out of those women's way for the rest of the season."
+
+"I will."
+
+"Bring your stays home, and allow me to do what I like with them."
+
+"Of course.  Cut them in a million pieces."
+
+"Till you are recovered, you must be my patient, and go nowhere
+without me."
+
+"That is no punishment, I am sure."
+
+"Punishment!  Am I the man to punish you?  I only want to save
+you."
+
+"Well, darling, it won't be the first time."
+
+"No; but I do hope it will be the last."
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+"Sublata causa tollitur effectus."  The stays being gone, and
+dissipation moderated, Mrs. Staines bloomed again, and they gave
+one or two unpretending little dinners at the Bijou.  Dr. Staines
+admitted no false friends to these.  They never went beyond eight;
+five gentlemen, three ladies.  By this arrangement the terrible
+discursiveness of the fair, and man's cruel disposition to work a
+subject threadbare, were controlled and modified, and a happy
+balance of conversation established.  Lady Cicely Treherne was
+always invited, and always managed to come; for she said, "They
+were the most agweeable little paaties in London, and the host and
+hostess both so intewesting."  In the autumn, Staines worked double
+tides with the pen, and found a vehicle for medical narratives in a
+weekly magazine that did not profess medicine.
+
+This new vein put him in heart.  His fees, towards the end of the
+year, were less than last year, because there was no hundred-guinea
+fee; but there was a marked increase in the small fees, and the
+unflagging pen had actually earned him two hundred pounds, or
+nearly.  So he was in good spirits.
+
+Not so Mrs. Staines; for some time she had been uneasy, fretful,
+and like a person with a weight on her mind.
+
+One Sunday she said to him, "Oh, dear, I do feel so dull.  Nobody
+to go to church with, nor yet to the Zoo."
+
+"I'll go with you," said Staines.
+
+"You will!  To which?"
+
+"To both; in for a penny, in for a pound."
+
+So to church they went; and Staines, whose motto was "Hoc age,"
+minded his book.  Rosa had intervals of attention to the words, but
+found plenty of time to study the costumes.
+
+During the Litany in bustled Clara, the housemaid, with a white
+jacket on so like her mistress's, that Rosa clutched her own
+convulsively, to see whether she had not been skinned of it by some
+devilish sleight-of-hand.
+
+No, it was on her back; but Clara's was identical.
+
+In her excitement, Rosa pinched Staines, and with her nose, that
+went like a water-wagtail, pointed out the malefactor.  Then she
+whispered, "Look!  How dare she?  My very jacket!  Earrings too,
+and brooches, and dresses her hair like mine."
+
+"Well, never mind," whispered Staines.  "Sunday is her day.  We
+have got all the week to shine.  There, don't look at her--'From
+all evil speaking, lying, and slandering'"--
+
+"I can't keep my eyes off her."
+
+"Attend to the Litany.  Do you know, this is really a beautiful
+composition?"
+
+"I'd rather do the work fifty times over myself."
+
+"Hush! people will hear you."
+
+When they walked home after church, Staines tried to divert her
+from the consideration of her wrongs; but no--all other topics were
+too flat by comparison.
+
+She mourned the hard fate of mistresses--unfortunate creatures that
+could not do without servants.
+
+"Is not that a confession that servants are good, useful creatures,
+with all their faults?  Then as to the mania for dress, why, that
+is not confined to them.  It is the mania of the sex.  Are you free
+from it?"
+
+"No, of course not.  But I am a lady, if you please."
+
+"Then she is your intellectual inferior, and more excusable.
+Anyway, it is wise to connive at a thing we can't help."
+
+"What keep her, after this? no, never."
+
+"My dear, pray do not send her away, for she is tidy in the house,
+and quick, and better than any one we have had this last six
+months; and you know you have tried a great number."
+
+"To hear you speak, one would think it was my fault that we have so
+many bad servants."
+
+"I never said it was your fault; but I THINK, dearest, a little
+more forbearance in trifles"--
+
+"Trifles! trifles--for a mistress and maid to be seen dressed alike
+in the same church?  You take the servants' part against me, that
+you do."
+
+"You should not say that, even in jest.  Come now, do you really
+think a jacket like yours can make the servant look like you, or
+detract from your grace and beauty?  There is a very simple way;
+put your jacket by for a future occasion, and wear something else
+in its stead at church."
+
+"A nice thing, indeed, to give in to these creatures.  I won't do
+it."
+
+"Why won't you, this once?"
+
+"Because I won't--there!"
+
+"That is unanswerable," said he.
+
+Mrs. Staines said that; but when it came to acting, she deferred to
+her husband's wish; she resigned her intention of sending for Clara
+and giving her warning.  On the contrary, when Clara let her in,
+and the white jackets rubbed together in the narrow passage, she
+actually said nothing, but stalked to her own room, and tore her
+jacket off, and flung it on the floor.
+
+Unfortunately, she was so long dressing for the Zoo, that Clara
+came in to arrange the room.  She picks up the white jacket, takes
+it in both hands, gives it a flap, and proceeds to hang it up in
+the wardrobe.
+
+Then the great feminine heart burst its bounds.
+
+"You can leave that alone.  I shall not wear that again."
+
+Thereupon ensued an uneven encounter, Clara being one of those of
+whom the Scripture says, "The poison of asps is under their
+tongues."
+
+"La, ma'am," said she, "why, 'tain't so very dirty."
+
+"No; but it is too common."
+
+"Oh, because I've got one like it.  Ay.  Missises can't abide a
+good-looking servant, nor to see 'em dressed becoming."
+
+"Mistresses do not like servants to forget their place, nor wear
+what does not become their situation."
+
+"My situation!  Why, I can pay my way, go where I will.  I don't
+tremble at the tradesmen's knock, as some do."
+
+"Leave the room!  Leave it this moment."
+
+"Leave the room, yes--and I'll leave the house too, and tell all
+the neighbors what I know about it."
+
+She flounced out and slammed the door; and Rosa sat down,
+trembling.
+
+Clara rushed to the kitchen, and there told the cook and Andrew
+Pearman how she had given it to the mistress, and every word she
+had said to her, with a good many more she had not.
+
+The cook laughed and encouraged her.
+
+But Andrew Pearman was wroth, and said, "You to affront our
+mistress like that!  Why, if I had heard you, I'd have twisted your
+neck for ye."
+
+"It would take a better man than you to do that.  You mind your own
+business.  Stick to your one-horse chay."
+
+"Well, I'm not above my place, for that matter.  But you gals must
+always be aping your betters."
+
+"I have got a proper pride, that is all, and you haven't.  You
+ought to be ashamed of yourself to do two men's work; drive a
+brougham and wait on a horse, and then come in and wait at table,
+You are a tea-kettle groom, that is what you are.  Why, my brother
+was coachman to Lord Fitz-James, and gave his lordship notice the
+first time he had to drive the children.  Says he, 'I don't object
+to the children, my lord, but with her ladyship in the carriage.'
+It's such servants as you as spoil places.  No servant as knows
+what's due to a servant ought to know you.  They'd scorn your
+'quaintance, as I do, Mr. Pearman."
+
+"You are a stuck-up hussy, and a soldier's jade," roared Andrew.
+
+"And you are a low tea-kettle groom."
+
+This expression wounded the great equestrian soul to the quick; the
+rest of Sunday he pondered on it; the next morning he drove the
+doctor, as usual, but with a heavy heart.
+
+Meantime, the cook made haste and told the baker Pearman had "got
+it hot" from the housemaid, and she had called him a tea-kettle
+groom; and in less than half an hour after that it was in every
+stable in the mews.  Why, as Pearman was taking the horse out of
+the brougham, didn't two little red-headed urchins call out, "Here,
+come and see the tea-kettle groom!" and at night some mischievous
+boy chalked on the black door of the stable a large white tea-
+kettle, and next morning a drunken, idle fellow, with a clay pipe
+in his mouth, and a dirty pair of corduroy trousers, no coat, but a
+shirt very open at the chest, showing inflamed skin, the effect of
+drink, inspected that work of art with blinking eyes and
+vacillating toes, and said, "This comes of a chap doing too much.
+A few more like you, and work would be scarce.  A fine thing for
+gentlefolks to make one man fill two places! but it ain't the
+gentlefolks' fault, it's the man as humors 'em."
+
+Pearman was a peaceable man, and made no reply, but went on with
+his work; only during the day he told his master that he should be
+obliged to him if he would fill his situation as soon as
+convenient.
+
+The master inquired the cause, and the man told him, and said the
+mews was too hot for him.
+
+The doctor offered him five pounds a year more, knowing he had a
+treasure; but Pearman said, with sadness and firmness, that he had
+made up his mind to go, and go he would.
+
+The doctor's heart fairly sank at the prospect of losing the one
+creature he could depend upon.
+
+Next Sunday evening Clara was out, and fell in with friends, to
+whom she exaggerated her grievance.
+
+Then they worked her up to fury, after the manner of servants'
+FRIENDS.  She came home, packed her box, brought it down, and then
+flounced into the room to Doctor and Mrs. Staines, and said, "I
+shan't sleep another night in this house."
+
+Rosa was about to speak, but Dr. Staines forbade her: he said, "You
+had better think twice of that.  You are a good servant, though for
+once you have been betrayed into speaking disrespectfully.  Why
+forfeit your character, and three weeks' wages?"
+
+"I don't care for my wages.  I won't stay in such a house as this."
+
+"Come, you must not be impertinent."
+
+"I don't mean to, sir," said she, lowering her voice suddenly;
+then, raising it as suddenly, "There are my keys, ma'am, and you
+can search my box."
+
+"Mrs. Staines will not search your box; and you will retire at once
+to your own part of the house."
+
+"I'll go farther than that," said she, and soon after the street
+door was slammed; the Bijou shook.
+
+At six o'clock next morning, she came for her box.  It had been put
+away for safety.  Pearman told her she must wait till the doctor
+came down.  She did not wait, but went at eleven A.M. to a police-
+magistrate, and took out a summons against Dr. Staines, for
+detaining a box containing certain articles specified--value under
+fifteen pounds.
+
+When Dr. Staines heard she had been for her box, but left no
+address, he sent Pearman to hunt for her.  He could not find her.
+She avoided the house, but sent a woman for her diurnal love
+letters.  Dr. Staines sent the woman back to fetch her.  She came,
+received her box, her letters, and the balance of her wages, which
+was small, for Staines deducted the three weeks' wages.
+
+Two days afterwards, to his surprise, the summons was served.
+
+Out of respect for a court of justice, however humble, Dr. Staines
+attended next Monday to meet the summons.
+
+The magistrate was an elderly man, with a face shaped like a hog's,
+but much richer in color, being purple and pimply; so foul a visage
+Staines had rarely seen, even in the lowest class of the community.
+
+Clara swore that her box had been opened, and certain things stolen
+out of it; and that she had been refused the box next morning.
+
+Staines swore that he had never opened the box, and that, if any
+one else had, it was with her consent, for she had left the keys
+for that purpose.  He bade the magistrate observe that if a servant
+went away like this, and left no address, she put it out of the
+master's POWER to send her box after her; and he proved he had some
+trouble to force the box on her.
+
+The pig-faced beak showed a manifest leaning towards the servant,
+but there wasn't a leg to stand on; and he did not believe, nor was
+it credible, that anything had been stolen out of her box.
+
+At this moment, Pearman, sent by Rosa, entered the court with an
+old gown of Clara's that had been discovered in the scullery, and a
+scribbling-book of the doctor's, which Clara had appropriated, and
+written amorous verses in, very superior--in number--to those that
+have come down to us from Anacreon.
+
+"Hand me those," said the pig-faced beak.
+
+"What are they, Dr. Staines?"
+
+"I really don't know.  I must ask my servant."
+
+"Why, more things of mine that have been detained," said Clara.
+
+"Some things that have been found since she left," said Staines.
+
+"Oh! those that hide know where to find."
+
+"Young woman," said Staines, "do not insult those whose bread you
+have eaten, and who have given you many presents besides your
+wages.  Since you are so ready to accuse people of stealing, permit
+me to say that this book is mine, and not yours; and yet, you see,
+it is sent after you because you have written your trash in it."
+
+The purple, pig-faced beak went instantly out of the record, and
+wasted a deal of time reading Clara's poetry, and trying to be
+witty.  He raised the question whose book this was.  The girl swore
+that it WAS given her by a lady who was now in Rome.  Staines swore
+he bought it of a certain stationer, and happening to have his
+passbook in his pocket, produced an entry corresponding with the
+date of the book.
+
+The pig-faced beak said that the doctor's was an improbable story,
+and that the gown and the book were quite enough to justify the
+summons.  Verdict, one guinea costs.
+
+"What, because two things she never demanded have been found and
+sent after her?  This is monstrous.  I shall appeal to your
+superiors."
+
+"If you are impertinent I'll fine you five pounds."
+
+"Very well, sir.  Now hear me: if this is an honest judgment, I
+pray God I may be dead before the year's out; and, if it isn't, I
+pray God you may be."
+
+Then the pig-faced beak fired up, and threatened to fine him for
+blaspheming.
+
+He deigned no reply, but paid the guinea, and Clara swept out of
+the court, with a train a yard long, and leaning on the arm of a
+scarlet soldier who avenged Dr. Staines with military promptitude.
+
+Christopher went home raging internally, for hitherto he had never
+seen so gross a case of injustice.
+
+One of his humble patients followed him, and said, "I wish I had
+known, sir; you shouldn't have come here to be insulted.  Why, no
+gentleman can ever get justice against a servant girl when HE is
+sitting.  It is notorious, and that makes these hussies so bold.
+I've seen that jade here with the same story twice afore."
+
+Staines reached home more discomposed than he could have himself
+believed.  The reason was that barefaced injustice in a court of
+justice shook his whole faith in man.  He opened the street door
+with his latch-key, and found two men standing in the passage.  He
+inquired what they wanted.
+
+"Well, sir," said one of them, civilly enough, "we only want our
+due."
+
+"For what?"
+
+"For goods delivered at this house, sir.  Balance of account."  And
+he handed him a butcher's bill, L88, 11s. 5 1/2d.
+
+"You must be mistaken; we run no bills here.  We pay ready money
+for everything."
+
+"Well, sir," said the butcher, "there have been payments; but the
+balance has always been gaining; and we have been put off so often,
+we determined to see the master.  Show you the books, sir, and
+welcome."
+
+"This instant, if you please."  He took the butcher's address, who
+then retired, and the other tradesman, a grocer, told him a similar
+tale; balance, sixty pounds odd.
+
+He went to the butcher's, sick at heart, inspected the books, and
+saw that, right or wrong, they were incontrovertible; that debt had
+been gaining slowly, but surely, almost from the time he confided
+the accounts to his wife.  She had kept faith with him about five
+weeks, no more.
+
+The grocer's books told a similar tale.
+
+The debtor put his hand to his heart, and stood a moment.  The very
+grocer pitied him, and said, "There's no harry, doctor; a trifle on
+account, if settlement in full not convenient just now.  I see you
+have been kept in the dark."
+
+"No, no," said Christopher; "I'll pay every shilling."  He gave one
+gulp, and hurried away.
+
+At the fishmonger's, the same story, only for a smaller amount.
+
+A bill of nineteen pounds at the very pastrycook's; a place she had
+promised him, as her physician, never to enter.
+
+At the draper's, thirty-seven pounds odd.
+
+In short, wherever she had dealt, the same system: partial
+payments, and ever-growing debt.
+
+Remembering Madame Cie, he drove in a cab to Regent Street, and
+asked for Mrs. Staines's account.
+
+"Shall I send it, sir?"
+
+"No; I will take it with me."
+
+"Miss Edwards, make out Mrs. Staines's account, if you please."
+
+Miss Edwards was a good while making it out; but it was ready at
+last.  He thrust it into his pocket, without daring to look at it
+there; but he went into Verrey's, and asked for a cup of coffee,
+and perused the document.
+
+The principal items were as follows:--
+
+                                                        L  s.
+May 4.   Re-shaping and repairing elegant lace mantle,  1  8
+         Chip bonnet, feather, and flowers .  .  .  .   4  4
+May 20.  Making and trimming blue silk dress--material
+           part found .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  19 19
+         Five yards rich blue silk to match.  .  .  .   4  2
+June 1.  Polonaise and jacket trimmed with lace--
+           material part found .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  17 17
+June 8.  One black silk dress, handsomely trimmed
+           with jet guipure and lace .  .  .  .  .  .  49 18
+
+
+A few shreds and fragments of finery, bought at odd times, swelled
+the bill to L99 11s. 6d.--not to terrify the female mind with three
+figures.
+
+And let no unsophisticated young lady imagine that the trimmings,
+which constituted three-fourths of this bill, were worth anything.
+The word "lace," in Madame Cie's bill, invariably meant machine-
+made trash, worth tenpence a yard, but charged eighteen shillings a
+yard for one pennyworth of work in putting it on.  Where real lace
+was used, Madame Cie always LET HER CUSTOMERS KNOW IT.  Miss
+Lucas's bill for this year contained the two following little
+items:--
+
+
+                                                           L s.
+  Rich gros de cecile polonaise and jacket to match,
+    trimmed with Chantilly lace and valenciennes .  .  .  68 5
+  Superb robe de chambre, richly trimmed with skunk fur.  40 0
+
+
+The customer found the stuff; viz., two shawls.  Carolina found the
+nasty little pole-cats, and got twenty-four shillings for them;
+Madame Cie found THE REST.
+
+But Christopher Staines had not Miss Lucas's bill to compare his
+wife's with.  He could only compare the latter with their income,
+and with male notions of common sense and reason.
+
+He went home, and into his studio, and sat down on his hard beech
+chair; he looked round on his books and his work, and then, for the
+first time, remembered how long and how patiently he had toiled for
+every hundred pounds he had made; and he laid the evidences of his
+wife's profusion and deceit by the side of those signs of painful
+industry and self-denial, and his soul filled with bitterness.
+"Deceit! deceit!"
+
+Mrs. Staines heard he was in the house, and came to know about the
+trial.  She came hurriedly in, and caught him with his head on the
+table, in an attitude of prostration, quite new to him; he raised
+his head directly he heard her, and revealed a face, pale, stern,
+and wretched.
+
+"Oh! what is the matter now?" said she.
+
+"The matter is what it has always been, if I could only have seen
+it.  You have deceived me, and disgraced yourself.  Look at those
+bills."
+
+"What bills?  Oh!"
+
+"You have had an allowance for housekeeping."
+
+"It wasn't enough."
+
+"It was plenty, if you had kept faith with me, and paid ready
+money.  It was enough for the first five weeks.  I am housekeeper
+now, and I shall allow myself two pounds a week less, and not owe a
+shilling either."
+
+"Well, all I know is, I couldn't do it: no woman could."
+
+"Then, you should have come to me, and said so; and I would have
+shown you how.  Was I in Egypt, or at the North Pole, that you
+could not find me, to treat me like a friend?  You have ruined us:
+these debts will sweep away the last shilling of our little
+capital; but it isn't that, oh, no! it is the miserable deceit."
+
+Rosa's eye caught the sum total of Madame Cie's bill, and she
+turned pale.  "Oh, what a cheat that woman is!"
+
+But she turned paler when Christopher said, "That is the one honest
+bill; for I gave you leave.  It is these that part us: these!
+these!  Look at them, false heart!  There, go and pack up your
+things.  We can live here no longer; we are ruined.  I must send
+you back to your father."
+
+"I thought you would, sooner or later," said Mrs. Staines, panting,
+trembling, but showing a little fight.  "He told you I wasn't fit
+to be a poor man's wife."
+
+"An honest man's wife, you mean: that is what you are not fit for.
+You will go home to your father, and I shall go into some humble
+lodging to work for you.  I'll contrive to keep you, and find you a
+hundred a year to spend in dress--the only thing your heart can
+really love.  But I won't have an enemy here in the disguise of a
+friend; and I won't have a wife about me I must treat like a
+servant, and watch like a traitor."
+
+The words were harsh, but the agony with which they were spoken
+distinguished them from vulgar vituperation.
+
+They overpowered poor Rosa; she had been ailing a little some time,
+and from remorse and terror, coupled with other causes, nature gave
+way.  Her lips turned white, she gasped inarticulately, and, with a
+little piteous moan, tottered, and swooned dead away.
+
+He was walking wildly about, ready to tear his hair, when she
+tottered; he saw her just in time to save her, and laid her gently
+on the floor, and kneeled over her.
+
+Away went anger and every other feeling but love and pity for the
+poor, weak creature that, with all her faults, was so lovable and
+so loved.
+
+He applied no remedies at first: he knew they were useless and
+unnecessary.  He laid her head quite low, and opened door and
+window, and loosened all her dress, sighing deeply all the time at
+her condition.
+
+While he was thus employed, suddenly a strange cry broke from him:
+a cry of horror, remorse, joy, tenderness, all combined: a cry
+compared with which language is inarticulate.  His swift and
+practical eye had made a discovery.
+
+He kneeled over her, with his eyes dilating and his hands clasped,
+a picture of love and tender remorse.
+
+She stirred.
+
+Then he made haste, and applied his remedies, and brought her
+slowly back to life; he lifted her up, and carried her in his arms
+quite away from the bills and things, that, when she came to, she
+might see nothing to revive her distress.  He carried her to the
+drawing-room, and kneeled down and rocked her in his arms, and
+pressed her again and again gently to his heart, and cried over
+her.  "O my dove, my dove! the tender creature God gave me to love
+and cherish, and have I used it harshly?  If I had only known! if I
+had only known!"
+
+While he was thus bemoaning her, and blaming himself, and crying
+over her like the rain,--he, whom she had never seen shed a tear
+before in all his troubles,--she was coming to entirely, and her
+quick ears caught his words, and she opened her lovely eyes on him.
+
+"I forgive you, dear," she said feebly.  "BUT I HOPE YOU WILL BE A
+KINDER FATHER THAN A HUSBAND."
+
+These quiet words, spoken with rare gravity and softness, went
+through the great heart like a knife.
+
+He gave a sort of shiver, but said not a word.
+
+But that night he made a solemn vow to God that no harsh word from
+his lips should ever again strike a being so weak, so loving, and
+so beyond his comprehension.  Why look for courage and candor in a
+creature so timid and shy, she could not even tell her husband THAT
+until, with her subtle sense, she saw he had discovered it?
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+To be a father; to have an image of his darling Rosa, and a fruit
+of their love to live and work for: this gave the sore heart a
+heavenly glow, and elasticity to bear.  Should this dear object be
+born to an inheritance of debt, of poverty?  Never.
+
+He began to act as if he was even now a father.  He entreated Rosa
+not to trouble or vex herself; he would look into their finances,
+and set all straight.
+
+He paid all the bills, and put by a quarter's rent and taxes.  Then
+there remained of his little capital just ten pounds.
+
+He went to his printers, and had a thousand order-checks printed.
+These forms ran thus:--
+
+"Dr. Staines, of 13 Dear Street, Mayfair (blank for date), orders
+of (blank here for tradesman and goods ordered), for cash.
+Received same time (blank for tradesman's receipt).  Notice: Dr.
+Staines disowns all orders not printed on this form, and paid for
+at date of order."
+
+He exhibited these forms, and warned all the tradespeople, before a
+witness whom he took round for that purpose.
+
+He paid off Pearman on the spot.  Pearman had met Clara, dressed
+like a pauper, her soldier having emptied her box to the very
+dregs, and he now offered to stay.  But it was too late.
+
+Staines told the cook Mrs. Staines was in delicate health, and must
+not be troubled with anything.  She must come to him for all
+orders.
+
+"Yes, sir," said she.  But she no sooner comprehended the check
+system fully than she gave warning.  It put a stop to her wholesale
+pilfering.  Rosa's cooks had made fully a hundred pounds out of her
+amongst them since she began to keep accounts.
+
+Under the male housekeeper every article was weighed on delivery,
+and this soon revealed that the butcher and the fishmonger had
+habitually delivered short weight from the first, besides putting
+down the same thing twice.  The things were sent back that moment,
+with a printed form, stating the nature and extent of the fraud.
+
+The washerwoman, who had been pilfering wholesale so long as Mrs.
+Staines and her sloppy-headed maids counted the linen, and then
+forgot it, was brought up with a run, by triplicate forms, and by
+Staines counting the things before two witnesses, and compelling
+the washerwoman to count them as well, and verify or dispute on the
+spot.  The laundress gave warning--a plain confession that stealing
+had been part of her trade.
+
+He kept the house well for three pounds a week, exclusive of coals,
+candles, and wine.  His wife had had five pounds, and whatever she
+asked for dinner-parties, yet found it not half enough upon her
+method.
+
+He kept no coachman.  If he visited a patient, a man in the yard
+drove him at a shilling per hour.
+
+By these means, and by working like a galley slave, he dragged his
+expenditure down almost to a level with his income.
+
+Rosa was quite content at first, and thought herself lucky to
+escape reproaches on such easy terms.
+
+But by and by so rigorous a system began to gall her.  One day she
+fancied a Bath bun; sent the new maid to the pastry-cook's.
+Pastry-cook asked to see the doctor's order.  Maid could not show
+it, and came back bunless.
+
+Rosa came into the study to complain to her husband.
+
+"A Bath bun," said Staines.  "Why, they are colored with annotto,
+to save an egg, and annotto is adulterated with chromates that are
+poison.  Adulteration upon adulteration.  I'll make you a real Bath
+bun."  Off coat, and into the kitchen, and made her three, pure,
+but rather heavy.  He brought them her in due course.  She declined
+them languidly.  She was off the notion, as they say in Scotland.
+
+"If I can't have a thing when I want it, I don't care for it at
+all."  Such was the principle she laid down for his future
+guidance.
+
+He sighed, and went back to his work; she cleared the plate.
+
+One day, when she asked for the carriage, he told her the time was
+now come for her to leave off carriage exercise.  She must walk
+with him every day, instead.
+
+"But I don't like walking."
+
+"I am sorry for that.  But it is necessary to you, and by and by
+your life may depend on it."
+
+Quietly, but inexorably, he dragged her out walking every day.
+
+In one of these walks she stopped at a shop window, and fell in
+love with some baby's things.  "Oh! I must have that," said she.
+"I must.  I shall die if I don't; you'll see now."
+
+"You shall," said he, "when I can pay for it," and drew her away.
+
+The tears of disappointment stood in her eyes, and his heart
+yearned over her.  But he kept his head.
+
+He changed the dinner hour to six, and used to go out directly
+afterwards.
+
+She began to complain of his leaving her alone like that.
+
+"Well, but wait a bit," said he; "suppose I am making a little
+money by it, to buy you something you have set your heart on, poor
+darling!"
+
+In a very few days after this, he brought her a little box with a
+slit in it.  He shook it, and money rattled; then he unlocked it,
+and poured out a little pile of silver.  "There," said he, "put on
+your bonnet, and come and buy those things."
+
+She put on her bonnet, and on the way she asked how it came to be
+all in silver.
+
+"That is a puzzler," said he, "isn't it?"
+
+"And how did you make it, dear? by writing?"
+
+"No."
+
+"By fees from the poor people?"
+
+"What, undersell my brethren!  Hang it, no!  My dear, I made it
+honestly, and some day I will tell you how I made it; at present,
+all I will tell you is this: I saw my darling longing for something
+she had a right to long for; I saw the tears in her sweet eyes,
+and--oh, come along, do.  I am wretched till I see you with the
+things in your hand."
+
+They went to the shop; and Staines sat and watched Rosa buying
+baby-clothes.  Oh, it was a pretty sight to see this modest young
+creature, little more than a child herself, anticipating maternity,
+but blushing every now and then, and looking askant at her lord and
+master.  How his very bowels yearned over her!
+
+And when they got home, she spread the things on a table, and they
+sat hand in hand, and looked at them, and she leaned her head on
+his shoulder, and went quietly to sleep there.
+
+And yet, as time rolled on, she became irritable at times, and
+impatient, and wanted all manner of things she could not have, and
+made him unhappy.
+
+Then he was out from six o'clock till one, and she took it into her
+head to be jealous.  So many hours to spend away from her!  Now
+that she wanted all his comfort.
+
+Presently, Ellen, the new maid, got gossiping in the yard, and a
+groom told her her master had a sweetheart on the sly, he thought;
+for he drove the brougham out every evening himself; "and," said
+the man, "he wears a mustache at night."
+
+Ellen ran in, brimful of this, and told the cook; the cook told the
+washerwoman; the washerwoman told a dozen families, till about two
+hundred people knew it.
+
+At last it came to Mrs. Staines in a roundabout way, at the very
+moment when she was complaining to Lady Cicely Treherne of her hard
+lot.  She had been telling her she was nothing more than a lay-
+figure in the house.
+
+"My husband is housekeeper now, and cook, and all, and makes me
+delicious dishes, I can tell you; SUCH curries!  I couldn't keep
+the house with five pounds a week, so now he does it with three:
+and I never get the carriage, because walking is best for me; and
+he takes it out every night to make money.  I don't understand it."
+
+Lady Cicely suggested that perhaps Dr. Staines thought it best for
+her to be relieved of all worry, and so undertook the housekeeping.
+
+"No, no, no," said Rosa; "I used to pay them all a part of their
+bills, and then a little more, and so I kept getting deeper; and I
+was ashamed to tell Christie, so that he calls deceit; and oh, he
+spoke to me so cruelly once!  But he was very sorry afterwards,
+poor dear!  Why are girls brought up so silly? all piano, and no
+sense; and why are men sillier still to go and marry such silly
+things?  A wife!  I am not so much as a servant.  Oh, I am finely
+humiliated, and," with a sudden hearty naivete all her own, "it
+serves me just right."
+
+While Lady Cicely was puzzling this out, in came a letter.  Rosa
+opened it, read it, and gave a cry like a wounded deer.
+
+"Oh!" she cried, "I am a miserable woman.  What will become of me?"
+
+The letter informed her bluntly that her husband drove his brougham
+out every night to pursue a criminal amour.
+
+While Rosa was wringing her hands in real anguish of heart, Lady
+Cicely read the letter carefully.
+
+"I don't believe this," said she quietly.
+
+"Not true!  Why, who would be so wicked as to stab a poor,
+inoffensive wretch like me, if it wasn't true?"
+
+"The first ugly woman would, in a minute.  Don't you see the witer
+can't tell you where he goes?  Dwives his bwougham out!  That is
+all your infaumant knows."
+
+"Oh, my dear friend, bless you!  What have I been complaining to
+you about?  All is light, except to lose his love.  What shall I
+do?  I will never tell him.  I will never affront him by saying I
+suspected him."
+
+"Wosa, if you do that, you will always have a serpent gnawing you.
+No; you must put the letter quietly into his hand, and say, 'Is
+there any truth in that?'"
+
+"Oh, I could not.  I haven't the courage.  If I do that, I shall
+know by his face if there is any truth in it."
+
+"Well, and you must know the twuth.  You shall know it.  I want to
+know it too; for if he does not love you twuly, I will nevaa twust
+myself to anything so deceitful as a man."
+
+Rosa at last consented to follow this advice.
+
+After dinner she put the letter into Christopher's hand, and asked
+him quietly was there any truth in that: then her hands trembled,
+and her eyes drank him.
+
+Christopher read it, and frowned; then he looked up, and said, "No,
+not a word.  What scoundrels there are in the world!  To go and
+tell you that, NOW!  Why, you little goose! have you been silly
+enough to believe it?"
+
+"No," said she irresolutely.  "But DO you drive the brougham out
+every night?"
+
+"Except Sunday."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"My dear wife, I never loved you as I love you now; and if it was
+not for you, I should not drive the brougham out of nights.  That
+is all I shall tell you at present; but some day I'll tell you all
+about it."
+
+He took such a calm high hand with her about it, that she submitted
+to leave it there; but from this moment the serpent doubt nibbled
+her.
+
+It had one curious effect, though.  She left off complaining of
+trifles.
+
+Now it happened one night that Lady Cicely Treherne and a friend
+were at a concert in Hanover Square.  The other lady felt rather
+faint, and Lady Cicely offered to take her home.  The carriages had
+not yet arrived, and Miss Macnamara said to walk a few steps would
+do her good: a smart cabman saw them from a distance and drove up,
+and touching his hat said, "Cab, ladies?"
+
+It seemed a very superior cab, and Miss Macnamara said "Yes"
+directly.
+
+The cabman bustled down and opened the door; Miss Macnamara got in
+first, then Lady Cicely; her eye fell on the cabman's face, which
+was lighted full by a street-lamp, and it was Christopher Staines!
+
+He started and winced; but the woman of the world never moved a
+muscle.
+
+"Where to?" said Staines, averting his head.
+
+She told him where, and when they got out, said, "I'll send it you
+by the servant."
+
+A flunkey soon after appeared with half-a-crown, and the amateur
+coachman drove away.  He said to himself, "Come, my mustache is a
+better disguise than I thought."
+
+Next day, and the day after, he asked Rosa, with affected
+carelessness, had she heard anything of Lady Cicely.
+
+"No, dear; but I dare say she will call this afternoon: it is her
+day."
+
+She did call at last, and after a few words with Rosa, became a
+little restless, and asked if she might consult Dr. Staines.
+
+"Certainly, dear.  Come to his studio."
+
+"No; might I see him here?"
+
+"Certainly."  She rang the bell, and told the servant to ask Dr.
+Staines if he would be kind enough to step into the drawing-room.
+
+Dr. Staines came in, and bowed to Lady Cicely, and eyed her a
+little uncomfortably.
+
+She began, however, in a way that put him quite at his ease.  "You
+remember the advice you gave us about my little cousin Tadcastah."
+
+"Perfectly: his life is very precarious; he is bilious, consumptive,
+and, if not watched, will be epileptical; and he has a fond, weak
+mother, who will let him kill himself."
+
+"Exactly: and you wecommended a sea voyage, with a medical
+attendant to watch his diet, and contwol his habits.  Well, she
+took other advice, and the youth is worse; so now she is
+fwightened, and a month ago she asked me to pwopose to you to sail
+about with Tadcastah; and she offered me a thousand pounds a year.
+I put on my stiff look, and said, 'Countess, with every desiah to
+oblige you, I must decline to cawwy that offah to a man of genius,
+learning, and weputation, who has the ball at his feet in London.'"
+
+"Lord forgive you, Lady Cicely."
+
+"Lord bless her for standing up for my Christie."
+
+Lady Cicely continued: "Now, this good lady, you must know, is not
+exactly one of us: the late earl mawwied into cotton, or wool, or
+something.  So she said, 'Name your price for him.'  I shwugged my
+shoulders, smiled affably, and as affectedly as you like, and
+changed the subject.  But since then things have happened.  I am
+afwaid it is my duty to make you the judge whether you choose to
+sail about with that little cub--Rosa, I can beat about the bush no
+longer.  Is it a fit thing that a man of genius, at whose feet we
+ought all to be sitting with reverence, should drive a cab in the
+public streets?  Yes, Rosa Staines, your husband drives his
+brougham out at night, not to visit any other lady, as that
+anonymous wretch told you, but to make a few misewable shillings
+for you."
+
+"Oh, Christie!"
+
+"It is no use, Dr. Staines; I must and will tell her.  My dear, he
+drove ME three nights ago.  He had a cabman's badge on his poor
+arm.  If you knew what I suffered in those five minutes!  Indeed it
+seems cruel to speak of it--but I could not keep it from Rosa, and
+the reason I muster courage to say it before you, sir, it is
+because I know she has other friends who keep you out of their
+consultations; and, after all, it is the world that ought to blush,
+and not you."
+
+Her ladyship's kindly bosom heaved, and she wanted to cry; so she
+took her handkerchief out of her pocket without the least hurry,
+and pressed it delicately to her eyes, and did cry quietly, but
+without any disguise, like a brave lady, who neither cried nor did
+anything else she was ashamed to be seen at.
+
+As for Rosa, she sat sobbing round Christopher's neck, and kissed
+him with all her soul.
+
+"Dear me!" said Christopher.  "You are both very kind.  But,
+begging your pardon, it is much ado about nothing."
+
+Lady Cicely took no notice of that observation.  "So, Rosa dear,"
+said she, "I think you are the person to decide whether he had not
+better sail about with that little cub, than--oh!"
+
+"I will settle that," said Staines.  "I have one beloved creature
+to provide for.  I may have another.  I MUST make money.  Turning a
+brougham into a cab, whatever you may think, is an honest way of
+making it, and I am not the first doctor who has coined his
+brougham at night.  But if there is a good deal of money to be made
+by sailing with Lord Tadcaster, of course I should prefer that to
+cab-driving, for I have never made above twelve shillings a night."
+
+"Oh, as to that, she shall give you fifteen hundred a year."
+
+"Then I jump at it."
+
+"What! and leave ME?"
+
+"Yes, love: leave you--for your good; and only for a time.  Lady
+Cicely, it is a noble offer.  My darling Rosa will have every
+comfort--ay, every luxury, till I come home, and then we will start
+afresh with a good balance, and with more experience than we did at
+first."
+
+Lady Cicely gazed on him with wonder.  She said, "Oh! what stout
+hearts men have!  No, no; don't let him go.  See; he is acting.
+His great heart is torn with agony.  I will have no hand in parting
+man and wife--no, not for a day."  And she hurried away in rare
+agitation.
+
+Rosa fell on her knees, and asked Christopher's pardon for having
+been jealous; and that day she was a flood of divine tenderness.
+She repaid him richly for driving the cab.  But she was unnaturally
+cool about Lady Cicely; and the exquisite reason soon came out.
+"Oh yes!  She is very good; very kind; but it is not for me now!
+No! you shall not sail about with her cub of a cousin, and leave me
+at such a time."
+
+Christopher groaned.
+
+"Christie, you shall not see that lady again.  She came here to
+part us.  SHE IS IN LOVE WITH YOU.  I was blind not to see it
+before."
+
+Next day, as Lady Cicely sat alone in the morning-room thinking
+over this very scene, a footman brought in a card and a note.  "Dr.
+Staines begs particularly to see Lady Cicely Treherne."
+
+The lady's pale cheek colored; she stood irresolute a single
+moment.  "I will see Dr. Staines," said she.
+
+Dr. Staines came in, looking pale and worn; he had not slept a wink
+since she saw him last.
+
+She looked at him full, and divined this at a glance.  She motioned
+him to a seat, and sat down herself, with her white hand pressing
+her forehead, and her head turned a little away from him.
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+He told her he had come to thank her for her great kindness, and to
+accept the offer.
+
+She sighed.  "I hoped it was to decline it.  Think of the misery of
+separation, both to you and her."
+
+"It will be misery.  But we are not happy as it is, and she cannot
+bear poverty.  Nor is it fair she should, when I can give her every
+comfort by just playing the man for a year or two."  He then told
+Lady Cicely there were more reasons than he chose to mention: go he
+must, and would; and he implored her not to let the affair drop.
+In short, he was sad but resolved, and she found she must go on
+with it, or break faith with him.  She took her desk, and wrote a
+letter concluding the bargain for him.  She stipulated for half the
+year's fee in advance.  She read Dr. Staines the letter.
+
+"You ARE a friend!" said he.  "I should never have ventured on
+that; it will be a godsend to my poor Rosa.  You will be kind to
+her when I am gone?"
+
+"I will."
+
+"So will Uncle Philip, I think.  I will see him before I go, and
+shake hands.  He has been a good friend to me; but he was too hard
+upon HER; and I could not stand that."
+
+Then he thanked and blessed her again, with the tears in his eyes,
+and left her more disturbed and tearful than she had ever been
+since she grew to woman.  "O cruel poverty!" she thought, "that
+such a man should be torn from his home, and thank me for doing it--
+all for a little money--and here are we poor commonplace creatures
+rolling in it."
+
+Staines hurried home, and told his wife.  She clung to him
+convulsively, and wept bitterly; but she made no direct attempt to
+shake his resolution; she saw, by his iron look, that she could
+only afflict, not turn him.
+
+Next day came Lady Cicely to see her.  Lady Cicely was very uneasy
+in her mind, and wanted to know whether Rosa was reconciled to the
+separation.
+
+Rosa received her with a forced politeness and an icy coldness that
+petrified her.  She could not stay long in face of such a
+reception.  At parting, she said, sadly, "You look on me as an
+enemy."
+
+"What else can you expect, when you part my husband and me?" said
+Rosa, with quiet sternness.
+
+"I meant well," said Lady Cicely sorrowfully; "but I wish I had
+never interfered."
+
+"So do I," and she began to cry.
+
+Lady Cicely made no answer.  She went quietly away, hanging her
+head sadly.
+
+Rosa was unjust, but she was not rude nor vulgar; and Lady Cicely's
+temper was so well governed that it never blinded her heart.  She
+withdrew, but without the least idea of quarrelling with her
+afflicted friend, or abandoning her.  She went quietly home, and
+wrote to Lady ----, to say that she should be glad to receive Dr.
+Staines's advance as soon as convenient, since Mrs. Staines would
+have to make fresh arrangements, and the money might be useful.
+
+The money was forthcoming directly.  Lady Cicely brought it to Dear
+Street, and handed it to Dr. Staines.  His eyes sparkled at the
+sight of it.
+
+"Give my love to Rosa," said she softly, and cut her visit very
+short.
+
+Staines took the money to Rosa, and said, "See what our best friend
+has brought us.  You shall have four hundred, and I hope, after the
+bitter lessons you have had, you will be able to do with that for
+some months.  The two hundred I shall keep as a reserve fund for
+you to draw on."
+
+"No, no!" said Rosa.  "I shall go and live with my father, and
+never spend a penny.  O Christie, if you knew how I hate myself for
+the folly that is parting us!  Oh, why don't they teach girls sense
+and money, instead of music and the globes?"
+
+But Christopher opened a banking account for her, and gave her a
+check-book, and entreated her to pay everything by check, and run
+no bills whatever; and she promised.  He also advertised the Bijou,
+and put a bill in the window: "The lease of this house, and the
+furniture, to be sold."
+
+Rosa cried bitterly at sight of it, thinking how high in hope they
+were, when they had their first dinner there, and also when she
+went to her first sale to buy the furniture cheap.
+
+And now everything moved with terrible rapidity.  The Amphitrite
+was to sail from Plymouth in five days; and, meantime, there was so
+much to be done, that the days seemed to gallop away.
+
+Dr. Staines forgot nothing.  He made his will in duplicate, leaving
+all to his wife; he left one copy at Doctors' Commons and another
+with his lawyer; inventoried all his furniture and effects in
+duplicate, too; wrote to Uncle Philip, and then called on him to
+seek a reconciliation.  Unfortunately, Dr. Philip was in Scotland.
+At last this sad pair went down to Plymouth together, there to meet
+Lord Tadcaster and go on board H.M.S. Amphitrite, lying out at
+anchor, under orders for the Australian Station.
+
+They met at the inn, as appointed; and sent word of their arrival
+on board the frigate, asking to remain on shore till the last
+minute.
+
+Dr. Staines presented his patient to Rosa; and after a little while
+drew him apart and questioned him professionally.  He then asked
+for a private room.  Here he and Rosa really took leave; for what
+could the poor things say to each other on a crowded quay?  He
+begged her forgiveness, on his knees, for having once spoken
+harshly to her, and she told him, with passionate sobs, he had
+never spoken harshly to her; her folly it was had parted them.
+
+Poor wretches! they clung together with a thousand vows of love and
+constancy.  They were to pray for each other at the same hours: to
+think of some kind word or loving act, at other stated hours; and
+so they tried to fight with their suffering minds against the cruel
+separation; and if either should die, the other was to live wedded
+to memory, and never listen to love from other lips; but no! God
+was pitiful; He would let them meet again ere long, to part no
+more.  They rocked in each other's arms; they cried over each
+other--it was pitiful.
+
+At last the cruel summons came; they shuddered, as if it was their
+death-blow.  Christopher, with a face of agony, was yet himself,
+and would have parted then: and so best.  But Rosa could not.  She
+would see the last of him, and became almost wild and violent when
+he opposed it.
+
+Then he let her come with him to Milbay Steps; but into the boat he
+would not let her step.
+
+The ship's boat lay at the steps, manned by six sailors, all
+seated, with their oars tossed in two vertical rows.  A smart middy
+in charge conducted them, and Dr. Staines and Lord Tadcaster got
+in, leaving Rosa, in charge of her maid, on the quay.
+
+"Shove off"--"Down"--"Give way."
+
+Each order was executed so swiftly and surely that, in as many
+seconds, the boat was clear, the oars struck the water with a loud
+splash, and the husband was shot away like an arrow, and the wife's
+despairing cry rang on the stony quay, as many a poor woman's cry
+had rung before.
+
+In half a minute the boat shot under the stern of the frigate.
+
+They were received on the quarter-deck by Captain Hamilton: he
+introduced them to the officers--a torture to poor Staines, to have
+his mind taken for a single instant from his wife--the first
+lieutenant came aft, and reported, "Ready for making sail, sir."
+
+Staines seized the excuse, rushed to the other side of the vessel,
+leaned over the taffrail, as if he would fly ashore, and stretched
+out his hands to his beloved Rosa; and she stretched out her hands
+to him.  They were so near, he could read the expression of her
+face.  It was wild and troubled, as one who did not yet realize the
+terrible situation, but would not be long first.
+
+"HANDS MAKE SAIL--AWAY, ALOFT--UP ANCHOR"--rang in Christopher's
+ear, as if in a dream.  All his soul and senses were bent on that
+desolate young creature.  How young and amazed her lovely face!
+Yet this bewildered child was about to become a mother.  Even a
+stranger's heart might have yearned with pity for her: how much
+more her miserable husband's!
+
+The capstan was manned, and worked to a merry tune that struck
+chill to the bereaved; yards were braced for casting, anchor hove,
+catted, and fished, sail was spread with amazing swiftness, the
+ship's head dipped, and slowly and gracefully paid off towards the
+breakwater, and she stood out to sea under swiftly-swelling canvas
+and a light north-westerly breeze.
+
+Staines only felt the motion: his body was in the ship, his soul
+with his Rosa.  He gazed, he strained his eyes to see her eyes, as
+the ship glided from England and her.  While he was thus gazing and
+trembling all over, up came to him a smart second lieutenant, with
+a brilliant voice that struck him like a sword.  "Captain's orders
+to show you berths; please choose for Lord Tadcaster and yourself."
+
+The man's wild answer made the young officer stare.  "Oh, sir! not
+now--try and do my duty when I have quite lost her--my poor wife--a
+child--a mother--there--sir--on the steps--there!--there!"
+
+Now this officer always went to sea singing "Oh be joyful."  But a
+strong man's agony, who can make light of it?  It was a revelation
+to him; but he took it quickly.  The first thing he did, being a
+man of action, was to dash into his cabin, and come back with a
+short, powerful double glass.  "There!" said he roughly, but
+kindly, and shoved it into Staines's hand.  He took it, stared at
+it stupidly, then used it, without a word of thanks, so wrapped was
+he in his anguish.
+
+This glass prolonged the misery of that bitter hour.  When Rosa
+could no longer tell her husband from another, she felt he was
+really gone, and she threw her hands aloft, and clasped them above
+her head, with the wild abandon of a woman who could never again be
+a child; and Staines saw it, and a sharp sigh burst from him, and
+he saw her maid and others gather round her.  He saw the poor young
+thing led away, with her head all down, as he had never seen her
+before, and supported to the inn; and then he saw her no more.
+
+His heart seemed to go out of his bosom in search of her, and leave
+nothing but a stone behind: he hung over the taffrail like a dead
+thing.  A steady foot-fall slapped his ear.  He raised his white
+face and filmy eyes, and saw Lieutenant Fitzroy marching to and fro
+like a sentinel, keeping everybody away from the mourner, with the
+steady, resolute, business-like face of a man in whom sentiment is
+confined to action; its phrases and its flourishes being literally
+terra incognita to the honest fellow.
+
+Staines staggered towards him, holding out both hands, and gasped
+out, "God bless you.  Hide me somewhere--must not be seen SO--got
+duty to do--Patient--can't do it yet--one hour to draw my breath--
+oh, my God, my God!--one hour, sir.  Then do my duty, if I die--as
+you would."
+
+Fitzroy tore him down into his own cabin, shut him in and ran to
+the first lieutenant, with a tear in his eye.  "Can I have a
+sentry, sir?"
+
+"Sentry!  What for?"
+
+"The doctor--awfully cut up at leaving his wife: got him in my
+cabin.  Wants to have his cry to himself."
+
+"Fancy a fellow crying at going to sea!"
+
+"It is not that, sir; it is leaving his wife."
+
+"Well, is he the only man on board that has got a wife?"
+
+"Why, no, sir.  It is odd, now I think of it.  Perhaps he has only
+got that ONE."
+
+"Curious creatures, landsmen," said the first lieutenant.
+"However, you can stick a marine there."
+
+"And I say, show the YOUNGSTER the berths, and let him choose, as
+the doctor's aground."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+So Fitzoy planted his marine, and then went after Lord Tadcaster:
+he had drawn up alongside his cousin, Captain Hamilton.  The
+captain, being an admirer of Lady Cicely, was mighty civil to his
+little lordship, and talked to him more than was his wont on the
+quarterdeck; for though he had a good flow of conversation, and
+dispensed with ceremony in his cabin, he was apt to be rather short
+on deck.  However, he told little Tadcaster he was fortunate; they
+had a good start, and, if the wind held, might hope to be clear of
+the Channel in twenty-four hours.  "You will see Eddystone
+lighthouse about four bells," said he.
+
+"Shall we go out of sight of land altogether?" inquired his
+lordship.
+
+"Of course we shall, and the sooner the better."  He then explained
+to the novice that the only danger to a good ship was from the
+land.
+
+While Tadcaster was digesting this paradox, Captain Hamilton
+proceeded to descant on the beauties of blue water and its fine
+medicinal qualities, which, he said, were particularly suited to
+young gentlemen with bilious stomachs, but presently, catching
+sight of Lieutenant Fitzroy standing apart, but with the manner of
+a lieutenant not there by accident, he stopped, and said, civilly
+but smartly, "Well, sir?"
+
+Fitzroy came forward directly, saluted, and said he had orders from
+the first lieutenant to show Lord Tadcaster the berths.  His
+lordship must be good enough to choose, because the doctor--
+couldn't.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Brought to, sir--for the present--by--well, by grief."
+
+"Brought to by grief!  Who the deuce is grief?  No riddles on the
+quarter-deck, if you please, sir."
+
+"Oh no, sir.  I assure you he is awfully cut up; and he is having
+his cry out in my cabin."
+
+"Having his cry out! why, what for?"
+
+"Leaving his wife, sir."
+
+"Oh, is that all?"
+
+"Well, I don't wonder," cried little Tadcaster warmly.  "She is,
+oh, so beautiful!" and a sudden blush o'erspread his pasty cheeks.
+"Why on earth didn't we bring her along with us here?" said he,
+suddenly opening his eyes with astonishment at the childish
+omission.
+
+"Why, indeed?" said the captain comically, and dived below,
+attended by the well-disciplined laughter of Lieutenant Fitzroy,
+who was too good an officer not to be amused at his captain's
+jokes.  Having acquitted himself of that duty--and it is a very
+difficult one sometimes--he took Lord Tadcaster to the main-deck,
+and showed him two comfortable sleeping-berths that had been
+screened off for him and Dr. Staines; one of these was fitted with
+a standing bed-place, the other had a cot swung in it.  Fitzroy
+offered him the choice, but hinted that he himself preferred a cot.
+
+"No, thank you," says my lord mighty dryly.
+
+"All right," said Fitzroy cheerfully.  "Take the other, then, my
+lord."
+
+His little lordship cocked his eye like a jackdaw, and looked
+almost as cunning.  "You see," said he, "I have been reading up for
+this voyage."
+
+"Oh, indeed!  Logarithms?"
+
+"Of course not."
+
+"What then?"
+
+"Why, 'Peter Simple'--to be sure."
+
+"Ah, ha!" said Fitzroy, with a chuckle that showed plainly he had
+some delicious reminiscences of youthful study in the same quarter.
+
+The little lord chuckled too, and put one finger on Fitzroy's
+shoulder, and pointed at the cot with another.  "Tumble out the
+other side, you know--slippery hitches--cords cut--down you come
+flop in the middle of the night."
+
+Fitzroy's eye flashed merriment: but only for a moment.  His
+countenance fell the next.  "Lord bless you," said he sorrowfully,
+"all that game is over now.  Her Majesty's ship!--it is a church
+afloat.  The service is going to the devil, as the old fogies say."
+
+"Ain't you sorry?" says the little lord, cocking his eye again like
+the bird hereinbefore mentioned.
+
+"Of course I am."
+
+"Then I'll take the standing bed."
+
+"All right.  I say, you don't mind the doctor coming down with a
+run, eh?"
+
+"He is not ill: I am.  He is paid to take care of me: I am not paid
+to take care of him," said the young lord sententiously.
+
+"I understand," replied Fitzroy, dryly.  "Well, every one for
+himself, and Providence for us all--as the elephant said when he
+danced among the chickens."
+
+Here my lord was summoned to dine with the captain.  Staines was
+not there; but he had not forgotten his duty; in the midst of his
+grief he had written a note to the captain, hoping that a bereaved
+husband might not seem to desert his post if he hid for a few hours
+the sorrow he felt himself unable to control.  Meantime he would be
+grateful if Captain Hamilton would give orders that Lord Tadcaster
+should eat no pastry, and drink only six ounces of claret,
+otherwise he should feel that he was indeed betraying his trust.
+
+The captain was pleased and touched with this letter.  It recalled
+to him how his mother sobbed when she launched her little middy,
+swelling with his first cocked hat and dirk.
+
+There was champagne at dinner, and little Tadcaster began to pour
+out a tumbler.  "Hold on!" said Captain Hamilton; "you are not to
+drink that;" and he quietly removed the tumbler.  "Bring him six
+ounces of claret."
+
+While they were weighing the claret with scientific precision,
+Tadcaster remonstrated; and, being told it was the doctor's order,
+he squeaked out, "Confound him! why did not he stay with his wife?
+She is beautiful."  Nor did he give it up without a struggle.
+"Here's hospitality!" said he.  "Six ounces!"
+
+Receiving no reply, he inquired of the third lieutenant, which was
+generally considered the greatest authority in a ship--the captain,
+or the doctor.
+
+The third lieutenant answered not, but turned his head away, and,
+by violent exertion, succeeded in not splitting.
+
+"I'll answer that," said Hamilton politely.  "The captain is the
+highest in his department, and the doctor in his: now Doctor
+Staines is strictly within his department, and will be supported by
+me and my officers.  You are bilious, and epileptical, and all the
+rest of it, and you are to be cured by diet and blue water."
+
+Tadcaster was inclined to snivel: however, he subdued that weakness
+with a visible effort, and, in due course, returned to the charge.
+"How would you look," quavered he, "if there was to be a mutiny in
+this ship of yours, and I was to head it?'
+
+"Well, I should look SHARP--hang all the ringleaders at the
+yardarm, clap the rest under hatches, and steer for the nearest
+prison."
+
+"Oh!" said Tadcaster, and digested this scheme a bit.  At last he
+perked up again, and made his final hit.  "Well, I shouldn't care,
+for one, if you didn't flog us."
+
+"In that case," said Captain Hamilton, "I'd flog you--and stop your
+six ounces."
+
+"Then curse the sea; that is all I say."
+
+"Why, you have not seen it; you have only seen the British
+Channel."  It was Mr. Fitzroy who contributed this last observation.
+
+After dinner all but the captain went on deck, and saw the
+Eddystone lighthouse ahead and to leeward.  They passed it.
+Fitzroy told his lordship its story, and that of its unfortunate
+predecessors.  Soon after this Lord Tadcaster turned in.
+
+Presently the captain observed a change in the thermometer, which
+brought him on deck.  He scanned the water and the sky, and as
+these experienced commanders have a subtle insight into the
+weather, especially in familiar latitudes, he remarked to the first
+lieutenant that it looked rather unsettled; and, as a matter of
+prudence, ordered a reef in the topsails, and the royal yards to be
+sent down: ship to be steered W. by S.  This done, he turned in,
+but told them to call him if there was any change in the weather.
+
+During the night the wind gradually headed; and at four bells in
+the middle watch a heavy squall came up from the south-west.
+
+This brought the captain on deck again: he found the officer of the
+watch at his post, and at work.  Sail was shortened, and the ship
+made snug for heavy weather.
+
+At four A.M. it was blowing hard, and, being too near the French
+coast, they wore the ship.
+
+Now, this operation was bad for little Tadcaster.  While the vessel
+was on the starboard tack, the side kept him snug; but, when they
+wore her, of course he had no leeboard to keep him in.  The ship
+gave a lee-lurch, and shot him clean out of his bunk into the
+middle of the cabin.
+
+He shrieked and shrieked, with terror and pain, till the captain
+and Staines, who were his nearest neighbors, came to him, and they
+gave him a little brandy, and got him to bed again.  Here he
+suffered nothing but violent seasickness for some hours.  As for
+Staines, he had been swinging heavily in his cot; but such was his
+mental distress that he would have welcomed seasickness, or any
+reasonable bodily suffering.  He was in that state when the sting
+of a wasp is a touch of comfort.
+
+Worn out with sickness, Tadcaster would not move.  Invited to
+breakfast, he swore faintly, and insisted on dying in peace.  At
+last exhaustion gave him a sort of sleep, in spite of the motion,
+which was violent, for it was now blowing great guns, a heavy sea
+on, and the great waves dirty in color and crested with raging
+foam.
+
+They had to wear ship again, always a ticklish manoeuvre in weather
+like this.
+
+A tremendous sea struck her quarter, stove in the very port abreast
+of which the little lord was lying, and washed him clean out of bed
+into the lee scuppers, and set all swimming around him.
+
+Didn't he yell, and wash about the cabin, and grab at all the
+chairs and tables and things that drifted about, nimble as eels,
+avoiding his grasp!
+
+In rushed the captain, and in staggered Staines.  They stopped his
+"voyage autour de sa chambre," and dragged him into the after
+saloon.
+
+He clung to them by turns, and begged, with many tears, to be put
+on the nearest land; a rock would do.
+
+"Much obliged," said the captain; "now is the very time to give
+rocks a wide berth."
+
+"A dead whale, then--a lighthouse--anything but a beast of a ship."
+
+They pacified him with a little brandy, and for the next twenty-
+four hours he scarcely opened his mouth, except for a purpose it is
+needless to dwell on.  We can trust to our terrestrial readers'
+personal reminiscences of lee-lurches, weather-rolls, and their
+faithful concomitant.
+
+At last they wriggled out of the Channel, and soon after that the
+wind abated, and next day veered round to the northward, and the
+ship sailed almost on an even keel.  The motion became as heavenly
+as it had been diabolical, and the passengers came on deck.
+
+Staines had suffered one whole day from sea-sickness, but never
+complained.  I believe it did his mind more good than harm.
+
+As for Tadcaster, he continued to suffer, at intervals, for two
+days more, but on the fifth day out he appeared with a little pink
+tinge on his cheek and a wolfish appetite.  Dr. Staines controlled
+his diet severely, as to quality, and, when they had been at sea
+just eleven days, the physician's heavy heart was not a little
+lightened by the marvellous change in him.  The unthinking, who
+believe in the drug system, should have seen what a physician can
+do with air and food, when circumstances enable him to ENFORCE the
+diet he enjoins.  Money will sometimes buy even health, if you
+AVOID DRUGS ENTIRELY, and go another road.
+
+Little Tadcaster went on board, pasty, dim-eyed, and very subject
+to fits, because his stomach was constantly overloaded with
+indigestible trash, and the blood in his brain-vessels was always
+either galloping or creeping, under the first or second effect of
+stimulants administered, at first, by thoughtless physicians.
+Behold him now--bronzed, pinky, bright-eyed, elastic; and only one
+fit in twelve days.
+
+The quarter-deck was hailed from the "look-out" with a cry that is
+sometimes terrible, but in this latitude and weather welcome and
+exciting.  "Land, ho!"
+
+"Where away?" cried the officer of the watch.
+
+"A point on the lee-bow, sir."
+
+It was the island of Madeira: they dropped anchor in Funchal Roads,
+furled sails, squared yards, and fired a salute of twenty-one guns
+for the Portuguese flag.
+
+They went ashore, and found a good hotel, and were no longer dosed,
+as in former days, with oil, onions, garlic, eggs.  But the wine
+queer, and no madeira to be got.
+
+Staines wrote home to his wife: he told her how deeply he had felt
+the bereavement; but did not dwell on that; his object being to
+cheer her.  He told her it promised to be a rapid and wonderful
+cure, and one that might very well give him a fresh start in
+London.  They need not be parted a whole year, he thought.  He sent
+her a very long letter, and also such extracts from his sea journal
+as he thought might please her.  After dinner they inspected the
+town, and what struck them most was to find the streets paved with
+flag-stones, and most of the carts drawn by bullocks on sledges.  A
+man every now and then would run forward and drop a greasy cloth in
+front of the sledge, to lubricate the way.
+
+Next day, after breakfast, they ordered horses; these on
+inspection, proved to be of excellent breed, either from Australia
+or America--very rough shod, for the stony roads.  Started for the
+Grand Canal--peeped down that mighty chasm, which has the
+appearance of an immense mass having been blown out of the centre
+of the mountain.
+
+They lunched under the great dragon tree near its brink, then rode
+back admiring the bold mountain scenery.  Next morning at dawn,
+rode on horses up the hill to the convent.  Admired the beautiful
+gardens on the way.  Remained a short time; then came down in hand-
+sleighs--little baskets slung on sledges, guided by two natives;
+these sledges run down the hill with surprising rapidity, and the
+men guide them round corners by sticking out a foot to port or
+starboard.
+
+Embarked at 11.30 A.M.
+
+At 1.30, the men having dined, the ship was got under way for the
+Cape of Good Hope, and all sail made for a southerly course, to get
+into the north-east trades.
+
+The weather was now balmy and delightful, and so genial that
+everybody lived on deck, and could hardly be got to turn in to
+their cabins, even for sleep.
+
+Dr. Staines became a favorite with the officers.  There is a great
+deal of science on board a modern ship of war, and, of course, on
+some points Staines, a Cambridge wrangler, and a man of many
+sciences and books, was an oracle.  On others he was quite behind,
+but a ready and quick pupil.  He made up to the navigating officer,
+and learned, with his help, to take observations.  In return he was
+always at any youngster's service in a trigonometrical problem; and
+he amused the midshipmen and young lieutenants with analytical
+tests; some of these were applicable to certain liquids dispensed
+by the paymaster.  Under one of them the port wine assumed some
+very droll colors and appearances not proper to grape-juice.
+
+One lovely night that the ship clove the dark sea into a blaze of
+phosphorescence, and her wake streamed like a comet's tail, a
+waggish middy got a bucketful hoisted on deck, and asked the doctor
+to analyze that.  He did not much like it, but yielded to the
+general request; and by dividing it into smaller vessels, and
+dropping in various chemicals, made rainbows and silvery flames and
+what not.  But he declined to repeat the experiment: "No, no; once
+is philosophy; twice is cruelty.  I've slain more than Samson
+already."
+
+As for Tadcaster, science had no charms for him; but fiction had;
+and he got it galore; for he cruised about the forecastle, and
+there the quartermasters and old seamen spun him yarns that held
+him breathless.
+
+But one day my lord had a fit on the quarter-deck, and a bad one;
+and Staines found him smelling strong of rum.  He represented this
+to Captain Hamilton.  The captain caused strict inquiries to be
+made, and it came out that my lord had gone among the men, with
+money in both pockets, and bought a little of one man's grog, and a
+little of another, and had been sipping the furtive but transient
+joys of solitary intoxication.
+
+Captain Hamilton talked to him seriously; told him it was suicide.
+
+"Never mind, old boy," said the young monkey; "a short life and a
+merry one."
+
+Then Hamilton represented that it was very ungentleman-like to go
+and tempt poor Jack with his money, to offend discipline, and get
+flogged.  "How will you feel, Tadcaster, when you see their backs
+bleeding under the cat?"
+
+"Oh, d--n it all, George, don't do that," says the young gentleman,
+all in a hurry.
+
+Then the commander saw he had touched the right chord.  So he
+played on it, till he got Lord Tadcaster to pledge his honor not to
+do it again.
+
+The little fellow gave the pledge, but relieved his mind as
+follows: "But it is a cursed tyrannical hole, this tiresome old
+ship.  You can't do what you like in it."
+
+"Well, but no more you can in the grave: and that is the agreeable
+residence you were hurrying to but for this tiresome old ship."
+
+"Lord! no more you can," said Tadcaster, with sudden candor.  "I
+FORGOT THAT."
+
+The airs were very light; the ship hardly moved.  It was beginning
+to get dull, when one day a sail was sighted on the weather-bow,
+standing to the eastward: on nearing her, she was seen, by the cut
+of her sails, to be a man-of-war, evidently homeward bound: so
+Captain Hamilton ordered the main-royal to be lowered (to render
+signal more visible) and the "demand" hoisted.  No notice being
+taken of this, a gun was fired to draw her attention to the signal.
+This had the desired effect; down went her main-royal, up went her
+"number."  On referring to the signal book, she proved to be the
+Vindictive from the Pacific Station.
+
+This being ascertained, Captain Hamilton, being that captain's
+senior, signalled "Close and prepare to receive letters."  In
+obedience to this she bore up, ran down, and rounded to; the sail
+in the Amphitrite was also shortened, the maintopsail laid to the
+mast, and a boat lowered.  The captain having finished his
+despatches, they, with the letter-bags, were handed into the boat,
+which shoved off, pulled to the lee side of the Vindictive, and
+left the despatches, with Captain Hamilton's compliments.  On its
+return, both ships made sail on their respective course, exchanging
+"bon voyage" by signal, and soon the upper sails of the homeward-
+bounder were seen dipping below the horizon: longing eyes followed
+her on board the Amphitrite.
+
+How many hurried missives had been written and despatched in that
+half-hour.  But as for Staines, he was a man of forethought, and
+had a volume ready for his dear wife.
+
+Lord Tadcaster wrote to Lady Cicely Treherne.  His epistle, though
+brief, contained a plum or two.
+
+He wrote: "What with sailing, and fishing, and eating nothing but
+roast meat, I'm quite another man."
+
+This amused her ladyship a little, but not so much as the
+postscript, which was indeed the neatest thing in its way she had
+met with, and she had some experience, too.
+
+"P.S.--I say, Cicely, I think I should like to marry you.  Would
+you mind?"
+
+Let us defy time and space to give you Lady Cicely's reply: "I
+should enjoy it of all things, Taddy.  But, alas! I am too young."
+
+N.B.--She was twenty-seven, and Tad sixteen.  To be sure, Tad was
+four feet eleven, and she was only five feet six and a half.
+
+To return to my narrative (with apologies), this meeting of the
+vessels caused a very agreeable excitement that day; but a greater
+was in store.  In the afternoon, Tadcaster, Staines, and the
+principal officers of the ship, being at dinner in the captain's
+cabin, in came the officer of the watch, and reported a large spar
+on the weather-bow.
+
+"Well, close it, if you can; and let me know if it looks worth
+picking up."
+
+He then explained to Lord Tadcaster that, on a cruise, he never
+liked to pass a spar, or anything that might possibly reveal the
+fate of some vessel or other.
+
+In the middle of his discourse the officer came in again, but not
+in the same cool business way: he ran in excitedly, and said,
+"Captain, the signalman reports it ALIVE!"
+
+"Alive?--a spar!  What do you mean?  Something alive ON it, eh?"
+
+"No, sir; alive itself."
+
+"How can that be?  Hail him again.  Ask him what it is."
+
+The officer went out, and hailed the signalman at the mast-head.
+"What is it?"
+
+"Sea-sarpint, I think."
+
+This hail reached the captain's ears faintly.  However, he waited
+quietly till the officer came in and reported it; then he burst
+out, "Absurd! there is no such creature in the universe.  What do
+you say, Dr. Staines?--It is in your department."
+
+"The universe in my department, captain?"
+
+"Haw! haw! haw!" went Fitzroy and two more.
+
+"No, you rogue, the serpent."
+
+Dr. Staines, thus appealed to, asked the captain if he had ever
+seen small snakes out at sea.
+
+"Why, of course.  Sailed through a mile of them once, in the
+archipelago."
+
+"Sure they were snakes?"
+
+"Quite sure; and the biggest was not eight feet long."
+
+"Very well, captain; then sea-serpents exist, and it becomes a mere
+question of size.  Now which produces the larger animals in every
+kind,--land or sea?  The grown elephant weighs, I believe, about
+five tons.  The very smallest of the whale tribe weighs ten; and
+they go as high as forty tons.  There are smaller fish than the
+whale, that are four times as heavy as the elephant.  Why doubt,
+then, that the sea can breed a snake to eclipse the boa-
+constrictor?  Even if the creature had never been seen, I should,
+by mere reasoning from analogy, expect the sea to produce a serpent
+excelling the boa-constrictor, as the lobster excels a crayfish of
+our rivers: see how large things grow at sea! the salmon born in
+our rivers weighs in six months a quarter of a pound, or less; it
+goes out to sea, and comes back in one year weighing seven pounds.
+So far from doubting the large sea-serpents, I believe they exist
+by the million.  The only thing that puzzles me is, why they should
+ever show a nose above water; they must be very numerous, I think."
+
+Captain Hamilton laughed, and said, "Well, this IS new.  Doctor, in
+compliment to your opinion, we will go on deck, and inspect the
+reptile you think so common."  He stopped at the door, and said,
+"Doctor, the saltcellar is by you.  Would you mind bringing it on
+deck?  We shall want a little to secure the animal."
+
+So they all went on deck right merrily.
+
+The captain went up a few ratlines in the mizzen rigging, and
+looked to windward, laughing all the time: but, all of a sudden,
+there was a great change in his manner.  "Good heavens, it is
+alive--LUFF!"
+
+The helmsman obeyed; the news spread like wildfire.  Mess kids,
+grog kids, pipes, were all let fall, and some three hundred sailors
+clustered on the rigging like bees, to view the long-talked-of
+monster.
+
+It was soon discovered to be moving lazily along, the propelling
+part being under water, and about twenty-five feet visible.  It had
+a small head for so large a body, and, as they got nearer, rough
+scales were seen, ending in smaller ones further down the body.  It
+had a mane, but not like a lion's, as some have pretended.  If you
+have ever seen a pony with a hog-mane, that was more the character
+of this creature's mane, if mane it was.
+
+They got within a hundred yards of it, and all saw it plainly,
+scarce believing their senses.
+
+When they could get no nearer for the wind, the captain yielded to
+that instinct which urges man always to kill a curiosity, "to
+encourage the rest," as saith the witty Voltaire.  "Get ready a
+gun--best shot in the ship lay and fire it."
+
+This was soon done.  Bang went the gun.  The shot struck the water
+close to the brute, and may have struck him under water, for aught
+I know.  Any way, it sorely disturbed him; for he reared into the
+air a column of serpent's flesh that looked as thick as the
+maintopmast of a seventy-four, opened a mouth that looked capacious
+enough to swallow the largest buoy anchor in the ship, and, with a
+strange grating noise between a bark and a hiss, dived, and was
+seen no more.
+
+When he was gone, they all looked at one another like men awaking
+from a dream.
+
+Staines alone took it quite coolly.  It did not surprise him in the
+least.  He had always thought it incredible that the boa-
+constrictor should be larger than any sea-snake.  That idea struck
+him as monstrous and absurd.  He noted the sea-serpent in his
+journal, but with this doubt, "Semble--more like a very large eel."
+
+Next day they crossed the line.  Just before noon a young gentleman
+burst into Staines's cabin, apologizing for want of ceremony; but
+if Dr. Staines would like to see the line, it was now in sight from
+the mizzentop.
+
+"Glad of it, sir," said Staines; "collect it for me in the ship's
+buckets, if you please.  I want to send A LINE to friends at home."
+
+Young gentleman buried his hands in his pockets, walked out in
+solemn silence, and resumed his position on the lee-side of the
+quarter-deck.
+
+Nevertheless, this opening, coupled with what he had heard and
+read, made Staines a little uneasy, and he went to his friend
+Fitzroy, and said, "Now, look here: I am at the service of you
+experienced and humorous mariners.  I plead guilty at once to the
+crime of never having passed the line; so, make ready your swabs,
+and lather me; your ship's scraper, and shave me; and let us get it
+over.  But Lord Tadcaster is nervous, sensitive, prouder than he
+seems, and I'm not going to have him driven into a fit for all the
+Neptunes and Amphitrites in creation."
+
+Fitzroy heard him out, then burst out laughing.  "Why, there is
+none of that game in the Royal Navy," said he.  "Hasn't been this
+twenty years."
+
+"I'm so sorry," said Dr. Staines.  "If there's a form of wit I
+revere, it is practical joking."
+
+"Doctor, you are a satirical beggar."
+
+Staines told Tadcaster, and he went forward and chaffed his friend
+the quartermaster, who was one of the forecastle wits.
+
+"I say, quartermaster, why doesn't Neptune come on board?"
+
+Dead silence.
+
+"I wonder what has become of poor old Nep?"
+
+"Gone ashore!" growled the seaman.  "Last seen in Rateliff Highway.
+Got a shop there--lends a shilling in the pound on seamen's advance
+tickets."
+
+"Oh! and Amphitrite?"
+
+"Married the sexton at Wapping."
+
+"And the Nereids?"
+
+"Neruds!" (scratching his head.) "I harn't kept my eye on them
+small craft.  But I BELIEVE they are selling oysters in the port of
+Leith."
+
+A light breeze carried them across the equator; but soon after they
+got becalmed, and it was dreary work, and the ship rolled gently,
+but continuously, and upset Lord Tadcaster's stomach again, and
+quenched his manly spirit.
+
+At last they were fortunate enough to catch the southeast trade,
+but it was so languid at first that the ship barely moved through
+the water, though they set every stitch, and studding sails alow
+and aloft, till really she was acres of canvas.
+
+While she was so creeping along, a man in the mizzentop noticed an
+enormous shark gliding steadily in her wake.  This may seem a small
+incident, yet it ran through the ship like wildfire, and caused
+more or less uneasiness in three hundred stout hearts; so near is
+every seaman to death, and so strong the persuasion in their
+superstitious minds, that a shark does not follow a ship
+pertinaciously without a prophetic instinct of calamity.
+
+Unfortunately, the quartermaster conveyed this idea to Lord
+Tadcaster, and confirmed it by numerous examples to prove that
+there was always death at hand when a shark followed the ship.
+
+Thereupon Tadcaster took it into his head that he was under a
+relapse, and the shark was waiting for his dead body: he got quite
+low-spirited.
+
+Staines told Fitzroy.  Fitzroy said, "Shark be hanged!  I'll have
+him on deck in half an hour."  He got leave from the captain: a
+hook was baited with a large piece of pork, and towed astern by a
+stout line, experienced old hands attending to it by turns.
+
+The shark came up leisurely, surveyed the bait, and, I apprehend,
+ascertained the position of the hook.  At all events, he turned
+quietly on his back, sucked the bait off, and retired to enjoy it.
+
+Every officer in the ship tried him in turn, but without success;
+for, if they got ready for him, and, the moment he took the bait,
+jerked the rope hard, in that case he opened his enormous mouth so
+wide that the bait and hook came out clear.  But, sooner or later,
+he always got the bait, and left his captors the hook.
+
+This went on for days, and his huge dorsal fin always in the ship's
+wake.
+
+Then Tadcaster, who had watched these experiments with hope, lost
+his spirit and appetite.
+
+Staines reasoned with him, but in vain.  Somebody was to die; and,
+although there were three hundred and more in the ship, he must be
+the one.  At last he actually made his will, and threw himself into
+Staines's arms, and gave him messages to his mother and Lady
+Cicely; and ended by frightening himself into a fit.
+
+This roused Staines's pity, and also put him on his mettle.  What,
+science be beaten by a shark!
+
+He pondered the matter with all his might; and at last an idea came
+to him.
+
+He asked the captain's permission to try his hand.  This was
+accorded immediately, and the ship's stores placed at his disposal
+very politely, but with a sly, comical grin.
+
+Dr. Staines got from the carpenter some sheets of zinc and spare
+copper, and some flannel: these he cut into three-inch squares, and
+soaked the flannel in acidulated water.  He then procured a
+quantity of bell-wire, the greater part of which he insulated by
+wrapping it round with hot gutta percha.  So eager was he, that he
+did not turn in all night.
+
+In the morning he prepared what he called an electric fuse--he
+filled a soda-water bottle with gunpowder, attaching some cork to
+make it buoyant, put in the fuse and bung, made it water-tight,
+connected and insulated his main wires--enveloped the bottle in
+pork--tied a line to it, and let the bottle overboard.
+
+The captain and officers shook their heads mysteriously.  The tars
+peeped and grinned from every rope to see a doctor try and catch a
+shark with a soda-water bottle and no hook; but somehow the doctor
+seemed to know what he was about, so they hovered round, and
+awaited the result, mystified, but curious, and showing their teeth
+from ear to ear.
+
+"The only thing I fear," said Staines, "is that, the moment he
+takes the bait, he will cut the wire before I can complete the
+circuit, and fire the fuse."
+
+Nevertheless, there was another objection to the success of the
+experiment.  The shark had disappeared.
+
+"Well," said the captain, "at all events, you have frightened him
+away."
+
+"No," said little Tadcaster, white as a ghost; "he is only under
+water, I know; waiting--waiting."
+
+"There he is," cried one in the ratlines.
+
+There was a rush to the taffrail--great excitement.
+
+"Keep clear of me," said Staines quietly but firmly.  "It can only
+be done at the moment before he cuts the wire."
+
+The old shark swam slowly round the bait.
+
+He saw it was something new.
+
+He swam round and round it.
+
+"He won't take it," said one.
+
+"He suspects something."
+
+"Oh, yes, he will take the meat somehow, and leave the pepper.  Sly
+old fox!"
+
+"He has eaten many a poor Jack, that one."
+
+The shark turned slowly on his back, and, instead of grabbing at
+the bait, seemed to draw it by gentle suction into that capacious
+throat, ready to blow it out in a moment if it was not all right.
+
+The moment the bait was drawn out of sight, Staines completed the
+circuit; the bottle exploded with a fury that surprised him and
+everybody who saw it; a ton of water flew into the air, and came
+down in spray, and a gory carcass floated, belly uppermost, visibly
+staining the blue water.
+
+There was a roar of amazement and applause.
+
+The carcass was towed alongside, at Tadcaster's urgent request, and
+then the power of the explosion was seen.  Confined, first by the
+bottle, then by the meat, then by the fish, and lastly by the
+water, it had exploded with tenfold power, had blown the brute's
+head into a million atoms, and had even torn a great furrow in its
+carcass, exposing three feet of the backbone.
+
+Taddy gloated on his enemy, and began to pick up again from that
+hour.
+
+The wind improved, and, as usual in that latitude, scarcely varied
+a point.  They had a pleasant time,--private theatricals and other
+amusements till they got to latitude 26 deg. S. and longitude 27
+deg. W.  Then the trade wind deserted them.  Light and variable
+winds succeeded.
+
+The master complained of the chronometers, and the captain thought
+it his duty to verify or correct them; and so shaped his course for
+the island of Tristan d'Acunha, then lying a little way out of his
+course.  I ought, perhaps, to explain to the general reader that
+the exact position of this island being long ago established and
+recorded, it was an infallible guide to go by in verifying a ship's
+chronometers.
+
+Next day the glass fell all day, and the captain said he should
+double-reef topsails at nightfall, for something was brewing.
+
+The weather, however, was fine, and the ship was sailing very fast,
+when, about half an hour before sunset, the mast-head man hailed
+that there was a bulk of timber in sight, broad on the weather-bow.
+
+The signalman was sent up, and said it looked like a raft.
+
+The captain, who was on deck, levelled his glass at it, and made it
+out a raft, with a sort of rail to it, and the stump of a mast.
+
+He ordered the officer of the watch to keep the ship as close to
+the wind as possible.  He should like to examine it if he could.
+
+The master represented, respectfully, that it would be unadvisable
+to beat to windward for that.  "I have no faith in our
+chronometers, sir, and it is important to make the island before
+dark; fogs rise here so suddenly."
+
+"Very well, Mr. Bolt; then I suppose we must let the raft go."
+
+"MAN ON THE RAFT TO WINDWARD!" hailed the signalman.
+
+This electrified the ship.  The captain ran up the mizzen rigging,
+and scanned the raft, now nearly abeam.
+
+"It IS a man!" he cried, and was about to alter the ship's course
+when, at that moment, the signalman hailed again,--
+
+"IT IS A CORPSE."
+
+"How d'ye know?"
+
+"By the gulls."
+
+Then succeeded an exciting dialogue between the captain and the
+master, who, being in his department, was very firm; and went so
+far as to say he would not answer for the safety of the ship, if
+they did not sight the land before dark.
+
+The captain said, "Very well," and took a turn or two.  But at last
+he said, "No.  Her Majesty's ship must not pass a raft with a man
+on it, dead or alive."
+
+He then began to give the necessary orders; but before they were
+all out of his mouth, a fatal interruption occurred.
+
+Tadcaster ran into Dr. Staines's cabin, crying, "A raft with a
+corpse close by!"
+
+Staines sprang to the quarter port to see, and craning eagerly out,
+the lower port chain, which had not been well secured, slipped, the
+port gave way, and as his whole weight rested on it, canted him
+headlong into the sea.
+
+A smart seaman in the forechains saw the accident, and instantly
+roared out, "MAN OVERBOARD!" a cry that sends a thrill through a
+ship's very ribs.
+
+Another smart fellow cut the life-buoy adrift so quickly that it
+struck the water within ten yards of Staines.
+
+The officer of the watch, without the interval of half a moment,
+gave the right orders, in the voice of a stentor;
+
+"Let go life-buoy.
+
+"Life-boat's crew away.
+
+"Hands shorten sail.
+
+"Mainsel up.
+
+"Main topsel to mast."
+
+These orders were executed with admirable swiftness.  Meantime
+there was a mighty rush of feet throughout the frigate, every
+hatchway was crammed with men eager to force their way on deck.
+
+In five seconds the middy of the watch and half her crew were in
+the lee cutter, fitted with Clifford's apparatus.
+
+"Lower away!" cried the excited officer; "the others will come down
+by the pendants."
+
+The man stationed, sitting on the bottom boards, eased away
+roundly, when suddenly there was a hitch--the boat would go no
+farther.
+
+"Lower away there in the cutter!  Why don't you lower?" screamed
+the captain, who had come over to leeward expecting to see the boat
+in the water.
+
+"The rope has swollen, sir, and the pendants won't unreeve," cried
+the middy in agony.
+
+"Volunteers for the weather-boat!" shouted the first lieutenant;
+but the order was unnecessary, for more than the proper number were
+in her already.
+
+"Plug in--lower away."
+
+But mishaps never come singly.  Scarcely had this boat gone a foot
+from the davit, than the volunteer who was acting as coxswain, in
+reaching out for something, inadvertently let go the line, which,
+in Kynaston's apparatus, keeps the tackles hooked; consequently,
+down went the boat and crew twenty feet, with a terrific crash; the
+men were struggling for their lives, and the boat was stove.
+
+But, meantime, more men having been sent into the lee cutter, their
+weight caused the pendants to render, and the boat got afloat, and
+was soon employed picking up the struggling crew.
+
+Seeing this, Lieutenant Fitzroy collected some hands, and lowered
+the life-boat gig, which was fitted with common tackles, got down
+into her himself by the falls, and pulling round to windward,
+shouted to the signalman for directions.
+
+The signalman was at his post, and had fixed his eye on the man
+overboard, as his duty was; but his mess-mate was in the stove
+boat, and he had cast one anxious look down to see if he was saved,
+and, sad to relate, in that one moment he had lost sight of
+Staines; the sudden darkness--there was no twilight--confused him
+more, and the ship had increased her drift.
+
+Fitzroy, however, made a rapid calculation, and pulled to windward
+with all his might.  He was followed in about a minute by the other
+sound boat powerfully manned, and both boats melted away into the
+night.
+
+There was a long and anxious suspense, during which it became pitch
+dark, and the ship burned blue lights to mark her position more
+plainly to the crews that were groping the sea for that beloved
+passenger.
+
+Captain Hamilton had no doubt that the fate of Staines was decided,
+one way or other, long before this; but he kept quiet until he saw
+the plain signs of a squall at hand.  Then, as he was responsible
+for the safety of boats and ship, he sent up rockets to recall
+them.
+
+The cutter came alongside first.  Lights were poured on her, and
+quavering voices asked, "Have you got him?"
+
+The answer was dead silence, and sorrowful, drooping heads.
+
+Sadly and reluctantly was the order given to hoist the boat in.
+
+Then the gig came alongside.  Fitzroy seated in her, with his hands
+before his face; the men gloomy and sad.
+
+"GONE!  GONE!"
+
+Soon the ship was battling a heavy squall.
+
+At midnight all quiet again, and hove to.  Then, at the request of
+many, the bell was tolled, and the ship's company mustered
+bareheaded, and many a stout seaman in tears, as the last service
+was read for Christopher Staines.
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+Rosa fell ill with grief at the hotel, and could not move for some
+days; but the moment she was strong enough, she insisted on leaving
+Plymouth: like all wounded things, she must drag herself home.
+
+But what a home!  How empty it struck, and she heart-sick and
+desolate.  Now all the familiar places wore a new aspect: the
+little yard, where he had so walked and waited, became a temple to
+her, and she came out and sat in it, and now first felt to the full
+how much he had suffered there--with what fortitude.  She crept
+about the house, and kissed the chair he had sat in, and every
+much-used place and thing of the departed.
+
+Her shallow nature deepened and deepened under this bereavement, of
+which, she said to herself, with a shudder, she was the cause.  And
+this is the course of nature; there is nothing like suffering to
+enlighten the giddy brain, widen the narrow mind, improve the
+trivial heart.
+
+As her regrets were tender and deep, so her vows of repentance were
+sincere.  Oh, what a wife she would make when he came back! how
+thoughtful! how prudent! how loyal! and never have a secret.  She
+who had once said, "What is the use of your writing? nobody will
+publish it," now collected and perused every written scrap.  With
+simple affection she even locked up his very waste-paper basket,
+full of fragments he had torn, or useless papers he had thrown
+there, before he went to Plymouth.
+
+In the drawer of his writing-table she found his diary.  It was a
+thick quarto: it began with their marriage, and ended with his
+leaving home--for then he took another volume.  This diary became
+her Bible; she studied it daily, till her tears hid his lines.  The
+entries were very miscellaneous, very exact; it was a map of their
+married life.  But what she studied most was his observations on
+her own character, so scientific, yet so kindly; and his scholar-
+like and wise reflections.  The book was an unconscious picture of
+a great mind she had hitherto but glanced at: now she saw it all
+plain before her; saw it, understood it, adored it, mourned it.
+Such women are shallow, not for want of a head upon their
+shoulders, but of ATTENTION.  They do not really study anything:
+they have been taught at their schools the bad art of skimming; but
+let their hearts compel their brains to think and think, the result
+is considerable.  The deepest philosopher never fathomed a
+character more thoroughly than this poor child fathomed her
+philosopher, when she had read his journal ten or eleven times, and
+bedewed it with a thousand tears.
+
+One passage almost cut her more intelligent heart in twain:--
+
+"This dark day I have done a thing incredible.  I have spoken with
+brutal harshness to the innocent creature I have sworn to protect.
+She had run in debt, through inexperience, and that unhappy
+timidity which makes women conceal an error till it ramifies, by
+concealment, into a fault; and I must storm and rave at her, till
+she actually fainted away.  Brute!  Ruffian!  Monster!  And she,
+how did she punish me, poor lamb?  By soft and tender words--like a
+lady, as she is.  Oh, my sweet Rosa, I wish you could know how you
+are avenged.  Talk of the scourge--the cat!  I would be thankful
+for two dozen lashes.  Ah! there is no need, I think, to punish a
+man who has been cruel to a woman.  Let him alone.  He will punish
+himself more than you can, if he is really a man."
+
+From the date of that entry, this self-reproach and self-torture
+kept cropping up every now and then in the diary; and it appeared
+to have been not entirely without its influence in sending Staines
+to sea, though the main reason he gave was that his Rosa might have
+the comforts and luxuries she had enjoyed before she married him.
+
+One day, while she was crying over this diary, Uncle Philip called;
+but not to comfort her, I promise you.  He burst on her, irate, to
+take her to task.  He had returned, learned Christopher's
+departure, and settled the reason in his own mind: that uxorious
+fool was gone to sea by a natural reaction; his eyes were open to
+his wife at last, and he was sick of her folly; so he had fled to
+distant climes, as who would not, that could?
+
+"SO, ma'am," said he, "my nephew is gone to sea, I find--all in a
+hurry.  Pray may I ask what he has done that for?"
+
+It was a very simple question, yet it did not elicit a very plain
+answer.  She only stared at this abrupt inquisitor, and then cried,
+piteously, "Oh, Uncle Philip!" and burst out sobbing.
+
+"Why, what is the matter?"
+
+"You WILL hate me now.  He is gone to make money for ME; and I
+would rather have lived on a crust.  Uncle--don't hate me.  I'm a
+poor, bereaved, heart-broken creature, that repents."
+
+"Repents! heigho! why, what have you been up to now, ma'am?  No
+great harm, I'll be bound.  Flirting a little with some FOOL--eh?"
+
+"Flirting!  Me! a married woman."
+
+"Oh, to be sure; I forgot.  Why, surely he has not deserted you."
+
+"My Christopher desert me!  He loves me too well; far more than I
+deserve; but not more than I will.  Uncle Philip, I am too confused
+and wretched to tell you all that has happened; but I know you love
+him, though you had a tiff: uncle, he called on you, to shake hands
+and ask your forgiveness, poor fellow!  He was so sorry you were
+away.  Please read his dear diary: it will tell you all, better
+than his poor foolish wife can.  I know it by heart.  I'll show you
+where you and he quarrelled about me.  There, see."  And she showed
+him the passage with her finger.  "He never told me it was that, or
+I would have come and begged your pardon on my knees.  But see how
+sorry he was.  There, see.  And now I'll show you another place,
+where my Christopher speaks of your many, many acts of kindness.
+There, see.  And now please let me show you how he longed for
+reconciliation.  There, see.  And it is the same through the book.
+And now I'll show you how grieved he was to go without your
+blessing.  I told him I was sure you would give him that, and him
+going away.  Ah, me! will he ever return?  Uncle dear, don't hate
+me.  What shall I do, now he is gone, if you disown me?  Why, you
+are the only Staines left me to love."
+
+"Disown you, ma'am! that I'll never do.  You are a good-hearted
+young woman, I find.  There, run and dry your eyes; and let me read
+Christopher's diary all through.  Then I shall see how the land
+lies."
+
+Rosa complied with his proposal; and left him alone while she
+bathed her eyes, and tried to compose herself, for she was all
+trembling at this sudden irruption.
+
+When she returned to the drawing-room, he was walking about,
+looking grave and thoughtful.
+
+"It is the old story," said he, rather gently: "a MISUNDERSTANDING.
+How wise our ancestors were that first used that word to mean a
+quarrel! for, look into twenty quarrels, and you shall detect a
+score of mis-under-standings.  Yet our American cousins must go and
+substitute the un-ideaed word 'difficulty'; that is wonderful.  I
+had no quarrel with him: delighted to see either of you.  But I had
+called twice on him; so I thought he ought to get over his temper,
+and call on a tried friend like me.  A misunderstanding!  Now, my
+dear, let us have no more of these misunderstandings.  You will
+always be welcome at my house, and I shall often come here and look
+after you and your interests.  What do you mean to do, I wonder?"
+
+"Sir, I am to go home to my father, if he will be troubled with me.
+I have written to him."
+
+"And what is to become of the Bijou?"
+
+"My Christie thought I should like to part with it, and the
+furniture--but his own writing-desk and his chair, no, I never
+will, and his little clock.  Oh! oh! oh!--But I remember what you
+said about agents, and I don't know what to do; for I shall be
+away."
+
+"Then, leave it to me.  I'll come and live here with one servant;
+and I'll soon sell it for you."
+
+"You, Uncle Philip!"
+
+"Well, why not?" said he roughly.
+
+"That will be a great trouble and discomfort to you, I'm afraid."
+
+"If I find it so, I'll soon drop it.  I'm not the fool to put
+myself out for anybody.  When you are ready to go out, send me
+word, and I'll come in."
+
+Soon after this he bustled off.  He gave her a sort of hurried kiss
+at parting, as if he was ashamed of it, and wanted it over as
+quickly as possible.
+
+Next day her father came, condoled with her politely, assured her
+there was nothing to cry about; husbands were a sort of
+functionaries that generally went to sea at some part of their
+career, and no harm ever came of it.  On the contrary, "Absence
+makes the heart grow fonder," said this judicious parent.
+
+This sentiment happened to be just a little too true, and set the
+daughter crying bitterly.  But she fought against it.  "Oh no!"
+said she, "I MUSTN'T.  I will not be always crying in Kent Villa."
+
+"Lord forbid!"
+
+"I shall get over it in time--a little."
+
+"Why, of course you will.  But as to your coming to Kent Villa, I
+am afraid you would not be very comfortable there.  You know I am
+superannuated.  Only got my pension now."
+
+"I know that, papa: and--why, that is one of the reasons.  I have a
+good income now; and I thought if we put our means together"--
+
+"Oh, that is a very different thing.  You will want a carriage, I
+suppose.  I have put mine down."
+
+"No carriage; no horse; no footman; no luxury of any kind till my
+Christie comes back.  I abhor dress; I abhor expense; I loathe
+everything I once liked too well; I detest every folly that has
+parted us; and I hate myself worst of all.  Oh! oh! oh!  Forgive me
+for crying so."
+
+"Well, I dare say there are associations about this place that
+upset you.  I shall go and make ready for you, dear; and then you
+can come as soon as you like."
+
+He bestowed a paternal kiss on her brow, and glided doucely away
+before she could possibly cry again.
+
+The very next week Rosa was at Kent Villa, with the relics of her
+husband about her; his chair, his writing-table, his clock, his
+waste-paper basket, a very deep and large one.  She had them all in
+her bedroom at Kent Villa.
+
+Here the days glided quietly but heavily.
+
+She derived some comfort from Uncle Philip.  His rough, friendly
+way was a tonic, and braced her.  He called several times about the
+Bijou.  Told her he had put up enormous boards all over the house,
+and puffed it finely.  "I have had a hundred agents at me," said
+he; "and the next thing, I hope, will be one customer; that is
+about the proportion."  At last he wrote her he had hooked a
+victim, and sold the lease and furniture for nine hundred guineas.
+Staines had assigned the lease to Rosa, so she had full powers; and
+Philip invested the money, and two hundred more she gave him, in a
+little mortgage at six per cent.
+
+Now came the letter from Madeira.  It gave her new life.
+Christopher was well, contented, hopeful.  His example should
+animate her.  She would bravely bear the present, and share his
+hopes of the future: with these brighter views Nature co-operated.
+The instincts of approaching maternity brightened the future.  She
+fell into gentle reveries, and saw her husband return, and saw
+herself place their infant in his arms with all a wife's, a
+mother's pride.
+
+In due course came another long letter from the equator, with a
+full journal, and more words of hope.  Home in less than a year,
+with reputation increased by this last cure; home, to part no more.
+
+Ah! what a changed wife he should find! how frugal, how candid, how
+full of appreciation, admiration, and love, of the noblest, dearest
+husband that ever breathed!
+
+Lady Cicely Treherne waited some weeks, to let kinder sentiments
+return.  She then called in Dear Street, but found Mrs. Staines was
+gone to Gravesend.  She wrote to her.
+
+In a few days she received a reply, studiously polite and cold.
+
+This persistent injustice mortified her at last.  She said to
+herself, "Does she think his departure was no loss to ME?  It was
+to her interests, as well as his, I sacrificed my own selfish
+wishes.  I will write to her no more."
+
+This resolution she steadily maintained.  It was shaken for a
+moment, when she heard, by a side wind, that Mrs. Staines was fast
+approaching the great pain and peril of women.  Then she wavered.
+But no.  She prayed for her by name in the Liturgy, but she
+troubled her no more.
+
+This state of things lasted some six weeks, when she received a
+letter from her cousin Tadcaster, close on the heels of his last,
+to which she had replied as I have indicated.  She knew his
+handwriting, and opened it with a smile.
+
+That smile soon died off her horror-stricken face.  The letter ran
+thus:--
+
+
+TRISTAN D'ACUNHA, Jan. 5.
+
+DEAR CICELY,--A terrible thing has just happened.  We signalled a
+raft, with a body on it, and poor Dr. Staines leaned out of the
+port-hole, and fell overboard.  Three boats were let down after
+him; but it all went wrong, somehow, or it was too late.  They
+could never find him, he was drowned; and the funeral service was
+read for the poor fellow.
+
+We are all sadly cut up.  Everybody loved him.  It was dreadful
+next day at dinner, when his chair was empty.  The very sailors
+cried at not finding him.
+
+First of all, I thought I ought to write to his wife.  I know where
+she lives; it is called Kent Villa, Gravesend.  But I was afraid;
+it might kill her: and you are so good and sensible, I thought I
+had better write to you, and perhaps you could break it to her by
+degrees, before it gets in all the papers.
+
+I send this from the island, by a small vessel, and paid him ten
+pounds to take it.
+
+Your affectionate cousin,
+
+TADCASTER.
+
+
+Words are powerless to describe a blow like this: the amazement,
+the stupor, the reluctance to believe--the rising, swelling,
+surging horror.  She sat like a woman of stone, crumpling the
+letter.  "Dead!--dead?"
+
+For a long time this was all her mind could realize--that
+Christopher Staines was dead.  He who had been so full of life and
+thought and genius, and worthier to live than all the world, was
+dead; and a million nobodies were still alive, and he was dead.
+
+She lay back on the sofa, and all the power left her limbs.  She
+could not move a hand.
+
+But suddenly she started up; for a noble instinct told her this
+blow must not fall on the wife as it had on her, and in her time of
+peril.
+
+She had her bonnet on in a moment, and for the first time in her
+life, darted out of the house without her maid.  She flew along the
+streets, scarcely feeling the ground.  She got to Dear Street, and
+obtained Philip Staines's address.  She flew to it, and there
+learned he was down at Kent Villa.  Instantly she telegraphed to
+her maid to come down to her at Gravesend, with things for a short
+visit, and wait for her at the station; and she went down by train
+to Gravesend.
+
+Hitherto she had walked on air, driven by one overpowering impulse.
+Now, as she sat in the train, she thought a little of herself.
+What was before her?  To break to Mrs. Staines that her husband was
+dead.  To tell her all her misgivings were more than justified.  To
+encounter her cold civility, and let her know, inch by inch, it
+must be exchanged for curses and tearing of hair; her husband was
+dead.  To tell her this, and in the telling of it, perhaps reveal
+that it was HER great bereavement, as well as the wife's, for she
+had a deeper affection for him than she ought.
+
+Well, she trembled like an aspen leaf, trembled like one in an
+ague, even as she sat.  But she persevered.
+
+A noble woman has her courage; not exactly the same as that which
+leads forlorn hopes against bastions bristling with rifles and
+tongued with flames and thunderbolts; yet not inferior to it.
+
+Tadcaster, small and dull, but noble by birth and instinct, had
+seen the right thing for her to do; and she, of the same breed, and
+nobler far, had seen it too; and the great soul steadily drew the
+recoiling heart and quivering body to this fiery trial, this act of
+humanity--to do which was terrible and hard, to shirk it, cowardly
+and cruel.
+
+She reached Gravesend, and drove in a fly to Kent Villa.
+
+The door was opened by a maid.
+
+"Is Mrs. Staines at home?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am, she is at HOME: but--"
+
+"Can I see her?"
+
+"Why, no, ma'am, not at present."
+
+"But I must see her.  I am an old friend.  Please take her my card.
+Lady Cicely Treherne."
+
+The maid hesitated, and looked confused.  "Perhaps you don't know,
+ma'am.  Mrs. Staines, she is--the doctor have been in the house all
+day."
+
+"Ah, the doctor!  I believe Dr. Philip Staines is here."
+
+"Why, that IS the doctor, ma'am.  Yes, he is here."
+
+"Then, pray let me see him--or no; I had better see Mr. Lusignan."
+
+"Master have gone out for the day, ma'am; but if you'll step in the
+drawing-room, I'll tell the doctor."
+
+Lady Cicely waited in the drawing-room some time, heart-sick and
+trembling.
+
+At last Dr. Philip came in, with her card in his hand, looking
+evidently a little cross at the interruption.  "Now, madam, please
+tell me, as briefly as you can, what I can do for you."
+
+"Are you Dr. Philip Staines?"
+
+"I am, madam, at your service--for five minutes.  Can't quit my
+patient long, just now."
+
+"Oh, sir, thank God I have found you.  Be prepared for ill news--
+sad news--a terrible calamity--I can't speak.  Read that, sir."
+And she handed him Tadcaster's note.
+
+He took it, and read it.
+
+He buried his face in his hands.  "Christopher! my poor, poor boy!"
+he groaned.  But suddenly a terrible anxiety seized him.  "Who
+knows of this?" he asked.
+
+"Only myself, sir.  I came here to break it to her."
+
+"You are a good, kind lady, for being so thoughtful.  Madam, if
+this gets to my niece's ears, it will kill her, as sure as we stand
+here."
+
+"Then let us keep it from her.  Command me, sir.  I will do
+anything.  I will live here--take the letters in--the journals--
+anything."
+
+"No, no; you have done your part, and God bless you for it.  You
+must not stay here.  Your ladyship's very presence, and your
+agitation, would set the servants talking, and some idiot-fiend
+among them babbling--there is nothing so terrible as a fool."
+
+"May I remain at the inn, sir; just one night?"
+
+"Oh yes, I wish you would; and I will run over, if all is well with
+her--well with her? poor unfortunate girl!"
+
+Lady Cicely saw he wished her gone, and she went directly.
+
+At nine o'clock that same evening, as she lay on a sofa in the best
+room of the inn, attended by her maid, Dr. Philip Staines came to
+her.  She dismissed her maid.
+
+Dr. Philip was too old, in other words, had lost too many friends,
+to be really broken down by bereavement; but he was strangely
+subdued.  The loud tones were out of him, and the loud laugh, and
+even the keen sneer.  Yet he was the same man; but with a gentler
+surface; and this was not without its pathos.
+
+"Well, madam," said he gravely and quietly.  "It is as it always
+has been.  'As is the race of leaves, so that of man.'  When one
+falls, another comes.  Here's a little Christopher come, in place
+of him that is gone: a brave, beautiful boy, ma'am; the finest but
+one I ever brought into the world.  He is come to take his father's
+place in our hearts--I see you valued his poor father, ma'am--but
+he comes too late for me.  At your age, ma'am, friendships come
+naturally; they spring like loves in the soft heart of youth: at
+seventy, the gate is not so open; the soil is more sterile.  I
+shall never care for another Christopher; never see another grow to
+man's estate."
+
+"The mother, sir," sobbed Lady Cicely; "the poor mother?"
+
+"Like them all--poor creature: in heaven, madam; in heaven.  New
+life! new existence! a new character.  All the pride, glory,
+rapture, and amazement of maternity--thanks to her ignorance, which
+we must prolong, or I would not give one straw for her life, or her
+son's.  I shall never leave the house till she does know it, and
+come when it may, I dread the hour.  She is not framed by nature to
+bear so deadly a shock."
+
+"Her father, sir.  Would he not be the best person to break it to
+her?  He was out to-day."
+
+"Her father, ma'am?  I shall get no help from him.  He is one of
+those soft, gentle creatures, that come into the world with what
+your canting fools call a mission; and his mission is to take care
+of number one.  Not dishonestly, mind you, nor violently, nor
+rudely, but doucely and calmly.  The care a brute like me takes of
+his vitals, that care Lusignan takes of his outer cuticle.  His
+number one is a sensitive plant.  No scenes, no noise; nothing
+painful--by-the-by, the little creature that writes in the papers,
+and calls calamities PAINFUL, is of Lusignan's breed.  Out to-day!
+of course he was out, ma'am: he knew from me his daughter would be
+in peril all day, so he visited a friend.  He knew his own
+tenderness, and evaded paternal sensibilities: a self-defender.  I
+count on no help from that charming man."
+
+"A man! I call such creachaas weptiles!" said Lady Cicely, her
+ghastly cheek coloring for a moment.
+
+"Then you give them a false importance."
+
+In the course of this interview, Lady Cicely accused herself sadly
+of having interfered between man and wife, and with the best
+intentions brought about this cruel calamity.  "Judge, then, sir,"
+said she, "how grateful I am to you for undertaking this cruel
+task.  I was her schoolfellow, sir, and I love her dearly; but she
+has turned against me, and now, oh, with what horror she will
+regard me!"
+
+"Madam," said the doctor, "there is nothing more mean and unjust
+than to judge others by events that none could foresee.  Your
+conscience is clear.  You did your best for my poor nephew: but
+Fate willed it otherwise.  As for my niece, she has many virtues,
+but justice is one you must not look for in that quarter.  Justice
+requires brains.  It's a virtue the heart does not deal in.  You
+must be content with your own good conscience, and an old man's
+esteem.  You did all for the best; and this very day you have done
+a good, kind action.  God bless you for it!"
+
+Then he left her; and next day she went sadly home, and for many a
+long day the hollow world saw nothing of Cicely Treherne.
+
+When Mr. Lusignan came home that night, Dr. Philip told him the
+miserable story, and his fears.  He received it, not as Philip had
+expected.  The bachelor had counted without his dormant paternity.
+He was terror-stricken--abject--fell into a chair, and wrung his
+hands, and wept piteously.  To keep it from his daughter till she
+should be stronger, seemed to him chimerical, impossible.  However,
+Philip insisted it must be done; and he must make some excuse for
+keeping out of her way, or his manner would rouse her suspicions.
+He consented readily to that, and indeed left all to Dr. Philip.
+
+Dr. Philip trusted nobody; not even his own confidential servant.
+He allowed no journal to come into the house without passing
+through his hands, and he read them all before he would let any
+other soul in the house see them.  He asked Rosa to let him be her
+secretary and open her letters, giving as a pretext that it would
+be as well she should have no small worries or trouble just now.
+
+"Why," said she, "I was never so well able to bear them.  It must
+be a great thing to put me out now.  I am so happy, and live in the
+future.  Well, dear uncle, you can if you like--what does it
+matter?--only there must be one exception: my own Christie's
+letters, you know."
+
+"Of course," said he, wincing inwardly.
+
+The very next day came a letter of condolence from Miss Lucas.  Dr.
+Philip intercepted it, and locked it up, to be shown her at a more
+fitting time.
+
+But how could he hope to keep so public a thing as this from
+entering the house in one of a hundred newspapers?
+
+He went into Gravesend, and searched all the newspapers, to see
+what he had to contend with.  To his horror, he found it in several
+dailies and weeklies, and in two illustrated papers.  He sat aghast
+at the difficulty and the danger.
+
+The best thing he could think of was to buy them all, and cut out
+the account.  He did so, and brought all the papers, thus
+mutilated, into the house, and sent them into the kitchen.  He said
+to his old servant, "These may amuse Mr. Lusignan's people, and I
+have extracted all that interests me."
+
+By these means he hoped that none of the servants would go and buy
+more of these same papers elsewhere.
+
+Notwithstanding these precautions, he took the nurse apart, and
+said, "Now, you are an experienced woman, and to be trusted about
+an excitable patient.  Mind, I object to any female servant
+entering Mrs. Staines's room with gossip.  Keep them outside the
+door for the present, please.  Oh, and nurse, if anything should
+happen, likely to grieve or to worry her, it must be kept from her
+entirely: can I trust you?"
+
+"You may, sir."
+
+"I shall add ten guineas to your fee, if she gets through the month
+without a shock or disturbance of any kind."
+
+She stared at him, inquiringly.  Then she said,--
+
+"You may rely on me, doctor."
+
+"I feel I may.  Still, she alarms me.  She looks quiet enough, but
+she is very excitable."
+
+Not all these precautions gave Dr. Philip any real sense of
+security; still less did they to Mr. Lusignan.  He was not a tender
+father, in small things, but the idea of actual danger to his only
+child was terrible to him and he now passed his life in a continual
+tremble.
+
+This is the less to be wondered at, when I tell you that even the
+stout Philip began to lose his nerve, his appetite, his sleep,
+under this hourly terror and this hourly torture.
+
+Well did the great imagination of antiquity feign a torment, too
+great for the mind long to endure, in the sword of Damocles
+suspended by a single hair over his head.  Here the sword hung over
+an innocent creature, who smiled beneath it, fearless; but these
+two old men must sit and watch the sword, and ask themselves how
+long before that subtle salvation shall snap.
+
+"Ill news travels fast," says the proverb.  "The birds of the air
+shall carry the matter," says Holy Writ; and it is so.  No bolts
+nor bars, no promises nor precautions, can long shut out a great
+calamity from the ears it is to blast, the heart it is to wither.
+The very air seems full of it, until it falls.
+
+Rosa's child was more than a fortnight old; and she was looking
+more beautiful than ever, as is often the case with a very young
+mother, and Dr. Philip complimented her on her looks.  "Now," said
+he, "you reap the advantage of being good, and obedient, and
+keeping quiet.  In another ten days or so, I may take you to the
+seaside for a week.  I have the honor to inform you that from about
+the fourth to the tenth of March there is always a week of fine
+weather, which takes everybody by surprise, except me.  It does not
+astonish me, because I observe it is invariable.  Now, what would
+you say if I gave you a week at Herne Bay, to set you up
+altogether?"
+
+"As you please, dear uncle," said Mrs. Staines, with a sweet smile.
+"I shall be very happy to go, or to stay.  I shall be happy
+everywhere, with my darling boy, and the thought of my husband.
+Why, I count the days till he shall come back to me.  No, to us; to
+us, my pet.  How dare a naughty mammy say to 'me,' as if 'me' was
+half the 'portance of oo, a precious pets!"
+
+Dr. Philip was surprised into a sigh.
+
+"What is the matter, dear?" said Rosa, very quickly.
+
+"The matter?"
+
+"Yes, dear, the matter.  You sighed; you, the laughing
+philosopher."
+
+"Did I?" said he, to gain time.  "Perhaps I remembered the
+uncertainty of human life, and of all mortal hopes.  The old will
+have their thoughts, my dear.  They have seen so much trouble."
+
+"But, uncle dear, he is a very healthy child."
+
+"Very."
+
+"And you told me yourself carelessness was the cause so many
+children die."
+
+"That is true."
+
+She gave him a curious and rather searching look; then, leaning
+over her boy, said, "Mammy's not afraid.  Beautiful Pet was not
+born to die directly.  He will never leave his mam-ma.  No, uncle,
+he never can.  For my life is bound in his and his dear father's.
+It is a triple cord: one go, go all."
+
+She said this with a quiet resolution that chilled Uncle Philip.
+
+At this moment the nurse, who had been bending so pertinaciously
+over some work that her eyes were invisible, looked quickly up,
+cast a furtive glance at Mrs. Staines, and finding she was employed
+for the moment, made an agitated signal to Dr. Philip.  All she did
+was to clench her two hands and lift them half way to her face, and
+then cast a frightened look towards the door; but Philip's senses
+were so sharpened by constant alarm and watching, that he saw at
+once something serious was the matter.  But as he had asked himself
+what he should do in case of some sudden alarm, he merely gave a
+nod of intelligence to the nurse, scarcely perceptible, then rose
+quietly from his seat, and went to the window.  "Snow coming, I
+think," said he.  "For all that we shall have the March summer in
+ten days.  You mark my words."  He then went leisurely out of the
+room; at the door he turned, and, with all the cunning he was
+master of, said, "Oh, by the by, come to my room, nurse, when you
+are at leisure."
+
+"Yes, doctor," said the nurse, but never moved.  She was too bent
+on hiding the agitation she really felt.
+
+"Had you not better go to him, nurse?"
+
+"Perhaps I had, madam."
+
+She rose with feigned indifference, and left the room.  She walked
+leisurely down the passage, then, casting a hasty glance behind
+her, for fear Mrs. Staines should be watching her, hurried into the
+doctor's room.  They met at once in the middle of the room, and
+Mrs. Briscoe burst out, "Sir, it is known all over the house!"
+
+"Heaven forbid!  What is known?"
+
+"What you would give the world to keep from her.  Why, sir, the
+moment you cautioned me, of course I saw there was trouble.  But
+little I thought--sir, not a servant in the kitchen or the stable
+but knows that her husband--poor thing! poor thing!--Ah! there goes
+the housemaid--to have a look at her."
+
+"Stop her!"
+
+Mrs. Briscoe had not waited for this; she rushed after the woman,
+and told her Mrs. Staines was sleeping, and the room must not be
+entered on any account.
+
+"Oh, very well," said the maid, rather sullenly.
+
+Mrs. Briscoe saw her return to the kitchen, and came back to Dr.
+Staines; he was pacing the room in torments of anxiety.
+
+"Doctor," said she, "it is the old story: 'Servants' friends, the
+master's enemies.'  An old servant came here to gossip with her
+friend the cook (she never could abide her while they were
+together, by all accounts), and told her the whole story of his
+being drowned at sea."
+
+Dr. Philip groaned, "Cursed chatterbox!" said he.  "What is to be
+done?  Must we break it to her now?  Oh, if I could only buy a few
+days more!  The heart to be crushed while the body is weak!  It is
+too cruel.  Advise me, Mrs. Briscoe.  You are an experienced woman,
+and I think you are a kind-hearted woman."
+
+"Well, sir," said Mrs. Briscoe, "I had the name of it, when I was
+younger--before Briscoe failed, and I took to nursing; which it
+hardens, sir, by use, and along of the patients themselves; for
+sick folk are lumps of selfishness; we see more of them than you
+do, sir.  But this I WILL say, 'tisn't selfishness that lies now in
+that room, waiting for the blow that will bring her to death's
+door, I'm sore afraid; but a sweet, gentle, thoughtful creature, as
+ever supped sorrow; for I don't know how 'tis, doctor, nor why
+'tis, but an angel like that has always to sup sorrow."
+
+"But you do not advise me," said the doctor, in agitation, "and
+something must be done."
+
+"Advise you, sir; it is not for me to do that.  I am sure I'm at my
+wits' ends, poor thing!  Well, sir, I don't see what you can do,
+but try and break it to her.  Better so, than let it come to her
+like a clap of thunder.  But I think, sir, I'd have a wet-nurse
+ready, before I said much: for she is very quick--and ten to one
+but the first word of such a thing turns her blood to gall.  Sir, I
+once knew a poor woman--she was a carpenter's wife--a-nursing her
+child in the afternoon--and in runs a foolish woman, and tells her
+he was killed dead, off a scaffold.  'Twas the man's sister told
+her.  Well, sir, she was knocked stupid like, and she sat staring,
+and nursing of her child, before she could take it in rightly.  The
+child was dead before supper-time, and the woman was not long
+after.  The whole family was swept away, sir, in a few hours, and I
+mind the table was not cleared he had dined on, when they came to
+lay them out.  Well-a-day, nurses see sorrow!"
+
+"We all see sorrow that live long, Mrs. Briscoe.  I am heart-broken
+myself; I am desperate.  You are a good soul, and I'll tell you.
+When my nephew married this poor girl, I was very angry with him;
+and I soon found she was not fit to be a struggling man's wife; and
+then I was very angry with her.  She had spoiled a first-rate
+physician, I thought.  But, since I knew her better, it is all
+changed.  She is so lovable.  How I shall ever tell her this
+terrible thing, God knows.  All I know is, that I will not throw a
+chance away.  Her body SHALL be stronger, before I break her heart.
+Cursed idiots, that could not save a single man, with their boats,
+in a calm sea!  Lord forgive me for blaming people, when I was not
+there to see.  I say I will give her every chance.  She shall not
+know it till she is stronger: no, not if I live at her door, and
+sleep there, and all.  Good God! inspire me with something.  There
+is always something to be done, if one could but see it."
+
+Mrs. Briscoe sighed and said, "Sir, I think anything is better than
+for her to hear it from a servant--and they are sure to blurt it
+out.  Young women are such fools."
+
+"No, no; I see what it is," said Dr. Philip.  "I have gone all
+wrong from the first.  I have been acting like a woman, when I
+should have acted like a man.  Why, I only trusted YOU by halves.
+There was a fool for you.  Never trust people by halves."
+
+"That is true, sir."
+
+"Well, then, now I shall go at it like a man.  I have a vile
+opinion of servants; but no matter.  I'll try them: they are human,
+I suppose.  I'll hit them between the eyes like a man.  Go to the
+kitchen, Mrs. Briscoe, and tell them I wish to speak to all the
+servants, indoors or out."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+She stopped at the door, and said, "I had better get back to her,
+as soon as I have told them."
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"And what shall I tell her, sir?  Her first word will be to ask me
+what you wanted me for.  I saw that in her eye.  She was curious:
+that is why she sent me after you so quick."
+
+Dr. Philip groaned.  He felt he was walking among pitfalls.  He
+rapidly flavored some distilled water with orange-flower, then
+tinted it a beautiful pink, and bottled it.  "There," said he; "I
+was mixing a new medicine.  Tablespoon, four times a day: had to
+filter it.  Any lie you like."
+
+Mrs. Briscoe went to the kitchen, and gave her message: then went
+to Mrs. Staines with the mixture.
+
+Dr. Philip went down to the kitchen, and spoke to the servants very
+solemnly.  He said, "My good friends, I am come to ask your help in
+a matter of life and death.  There is a poor young woman up-stairs;
+she is a widow, and does not know it; and must not know it yet.  If
+the blow fell now, I think it would kill her: indeed, if she hears
+it all of a sudden, at any time, that might destroy her.  We are in
+so sore a strait that a feather may turn the scale.  So we must try
+all we can to gain a little time, and then trust to God's mercy
+after all.  Well, now, what do you say?  Will you help me keep it
+from her, till the tenth of March, say? and then I will break it to
+her by degrees.  Forget she is your mistress.  Master and servant,
+that is all very well at a proper time; but this is the time to
+remember nothing but that we are all one flesh and blood.  We lie
+down together in the churchyard, and we hope to rise together where
+there will be no master and servant.  Think of the poor unfortunate
+creature as your own flesh and blood, and tell me, will you help me
+try and save her, under this terrible blow?"
+
+"Ay, doctor, that we will," said the footman.  "Only you give us
+our orders, and you will see."
+
+"I have no right to give you orders; but I entreat you not to show
+her by word or look, that calamity is upon her.  Alas! it is only a
+reprieve you can give her and to me.  The bitter hour MUST come
+when I must tell her she is a widow, and her boy an orphan.  When
+that day comes, I will ask you all to pray for me that I may find
+words.  But now I ask you to give me that ten days' reprieve.  Let
+the poor creature recover a little strength, before the thunderbolt
+of affliction falls on her head.  Will you promise me?"
+
+They promised heartily; and more than one of the women began to
+cry.
+
+"A general assent will not satisfy me," said Dr. Philip.  "I want
+every man, and every woman, to give me a hand upon it; then I shall
+feel sure of you."
+
+The men gave him their hands at once.  The women wiped their hands
+with their aprons, to make sure they were clean, and gave him their
+hands too.  The cook said, "If any one of us goes from it, this
+kitchen will be too hot to hold her."
+
+"Nobody will go from it, cook," said the doctor.  "I'm not afraid
+of that; and now since you have promised me, out of your own good
+hearts, I'll try and be even with you.  If she knows nothing of it
+by the tenth of March, five guineas to every man and woman in this
+kitchen.  You shall see that, if you can be kind, we can be
+grateful."
+
+He then hurried away.  He found Mr. Lusignan in the drawing-room,
+and told him all this.  Lusignan was fluttered, but grateful.  "Ah,
+my good friend," said he, "this is a hard trial to two old men,
+like you and me."
+
+"It is," said Philip.  "It has shown me my age.  I declare I am
+trembling; I, whose nerves were iron.  But I have a particular
+contempt for servants.  Mercenary wretches!  I think Heaven
+inspired me to talk to them.  After all, who knows? perhaps we
+might find a way to their hearts, if we did not eternally shock
+their vanity, and forget that it is, and must be, far greater than
+our own.  The women gave me their tears, and the men were earnest.
+Not one hand lay cold in mine.  As for your kitchen-maid, I'd trust
+my life to that girl.  What a grip she gave me!  What strength!
+What fidelity was in it!  My hand was never GRASPED before.  I
+think we are safe for a few days more."
+
+Lusignan sighed.  "What does it all come to?  We are pulling the
+trigger gently, that is all."
+
+"No, no; that is not it.  Don't let us confound the matter with
+similes, please.  Keep them for children."
+
+Mrs. Staines left her bed; and would have left her room, but Dr.
+Philip forbade it strictly.
+
+One day, seated in her arm-chair, she said to the nurse, before Dr.
+Philip, "Nurse, why do the servants look so curiously at me?"
+
+Mrs. Briscoe cast a hasty glance at Dr. Philip, and then said, "I
+don't know, madam.  I never noticed that."
+
+"Uncle, why did nurse look at you before she answered such a simple
+question?"
+
+"I don't know.  What question?"
+
+"About the servants."
+
+"Oh, about the servants!" said he contemptuously.
+
+"You should not turn up your nose at them, for they are all most
+kind and attentive.  Only, I catch them looking at me so strangely;
+really--as if they--"
+
+"Rosa, you are taking me quite out of my depth.  The looks of
+servant girls!  Why, of course a lady in your condition is an
+object of especial interest to them.  I dare say they are saying to
+one another, 'I wonder when my turn will come!'  A fellow-feeling
+makes us wondrous kind--that is a proverb, is it not?"
+
+"To be sure.  I forgot that."
+
+She said no more; but seemed thoughtful, and not quite satisfied.
+
+On this Dr. Philip begged the maids to go near her as little as
+possible.  "You are not aware of it," said he, "but your looks, and
+your manner of speaking, rouse her attention, and she is quicker
+than I thought she was, and observes very subtly."
+
+This was done; and then she complained that nobody came near her.
+She insisted on coming down-stairs; it was so dull.
+
+Dr. Philip consented, if she would be content to receive no visits
+for a week.
+
+She assented to that; and now passed some hours every day in the
+drawing-room.  In her morning wrappers, so fresh and crisp, she
+looked lovely, and increased in health and strength every day.
+
+Dr. Philip used to look at her, and his very flesh would creep at
+the thought that, ere long, he must hurl this fair creature into
+the dust of affliction; must, with a word, take the ruby from her
+lips, the rose from her cheeks, the sparkle from her glorious eyes--
+eyes that beamed on him with sweet affection, and a mouth that
+never opened, but to show some simplicity of mind, or some pretty
+burst of the sensitive heart.
+
+He put off, and put off, and at last cowardice began to whisper,
+"Why tell her the whole truth at all?  Why not take her through
+stages of doubt, alarm, and, after all, leave a grain of hope till
+her child gets so rooted in her heart that"--  But conscience and
+good sense interrupted this temporary thought, and made him see to
+what a horrible life of suspense he should condemn a human
+creature, and live a perpetual lie, and be always at the edge of
+some pitfall or other.
+
+One day, while he sat looking at her, with all these thoughts, and
+many more, coursing through his mind, she looked up at him, and
+surprised him.  "Ah!" said she gravely.
+
+"What is the matter, my dear?"
+
+"Oh, nothing," said she cunningly.
+
+"Uncle, dear," said she presently, "when do we go to Herne Bay?"
+
+Now, Dr. Philip had given that up.  He had got the servants at Kent
+Villa on his side, and he felt safer here than in any strange
+place: so he said, "I don't know: that all depends.  There is
+plenty of time."
+
+"No, uncle," said Rosa gravely.  "I wish to leave this house.  I
+can hardly breathe in it."
+
+"What! your native air?"
+
+"Mystery is not my native air; and this house is full of mystery.
+Voices whisper at my door, and the people don't come in.  The maids
+cast strange looks at me, and hurry away.  I scolded that pert girl
+Jane, and she answered me as meek as Moses.  I catch you looking at
+me, with love, and something else.  What is that something--?  It
+is Pity: that is what it is.  Do you think, because I am called a
+simpleton, that I have no eyes, nor ears, nor sense?  What is this
+secret which you are all hiding from one person, and that is me?
+Ah! Christopher has not written these five weeks.  Tell me the
+truth, for I will know it," and she started up in wild excitement.
+
+Then Dr. Philip saw the hour was come.
+
+He said, "My poor girl, you have read us right.  I am anxious about
+Christopher, and all the servants know it."
+
+"Anxious, and not tell ME; his wife; the woman whose life is bound
+up in his."
+
+"Was it for us to retard your convalescence, and set you fretting,
+and perhaps destroy your child?  Rosa, my darling, think what a
+treasure Heaven has sent you, to love and care for."
+
+"Yes," said she, trembling, "Heaven has been good to me; I hope
+Heaven will always be as good to me.  I don't deserve it; but then
+I tell God so.  I am very grateful, and very penitent.  I never
+forget that, if I had been a good wife, my husband--five weeks is a
+long time.  Why do you tremble so?  Why are you so pale--a strong
+man like you?  CALAMITY!  CALAMITY!"
+
+Dr. Philip hung his head.
+
+She looked at him, started wildly up, then sank back into her
+chair.  So the stricken deer leaps, then falls.  Yet even now she
+put on a deceitful calm, and said, "Tell me the truth.  I have a
+right to know."
+
+He stammered out, "There is a report of an accident at sea."
+
+She kept silence.
+
+"Of a passenger drowned--out of that ship.  This, coupled with his
+silence, fills our hearts with fear."
+
+"It is worse--you are breaking it to me--you have gone too far to
+stop.  One word: is he alive?  Oh, say he is alive!"
+
+Philip rang the bell hard, and said in a troubled voice, "Rosa,
+think of your child."
+
+"Not when my husband--  Is he alive or dead?"
+
+"It is hard to say, with such a terrible report about, and no
+letters," faltered the old man, his courage failing him.
+
+"What are you afraid of?  Do you think I can't die, and go to him?
+Alive, or dead?" and she stood before him, raging and quivering in
+every limb.
+
+The nurse came in.
+
+"Fetch her child," he cried; "God have mercy on her."
+
+"Ah, then he is dead," said she, with stony calmness.  "I drove him
+to sea, and he is dead."
+
+The nurse rushed in, and held the child to her.
+
+She would not look at it.
+
+"Dead!"
+
+"Yes, our poor Christie is gone--but his child is here--the image
+of him.  Do not forget the mother.  Have pity on his child and
+yours."
+
+"Take it out of my sight!" she screamed.  "Away with it, or I shall
+murder it, as I have murdered its father.  My dear Christie, before
+all that live!  I have killed him.  I shall die for him.  I shall
+go to him."  She raved and tore her hair.  Servants rushed in.
+Rosa was carried to her bed, screaming and raving, and her black
+hair all down on both sides, a piteous sight.
+
+Swoon followed swoon, and that very night brain fever set in with
+all its sad accompaniments; a poor bereaved creature, tossing and
+moaning; pale, anxious, but resolute faces of the nurse and the
+kitchen-maid watching: on one table a pail of ice, and on another
+the long, thick raven hair of our poor Simpleton, lying on clean
+silver paper.  Dr. Philip had cut it all off with his own hand, and
+he was now folding it up, and crying over it; for he thought to
+himself, "Perhaps in a few days more only this will be left of her
+on earth."
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+Staines fell head-foremost into the sea with a heavy plunge.  Being
+an excellent swimmer, he struck out the moment he touched the
+water, and that arrested his dive, and brought him up with a slant,
+shocked and panting, drenched and confused.  The next moment he
+saw, as through a fog--his eyes being full of water--something fall
+from the ship.  He breasted the big waves, and swam towards it: it
+rose on the top of a wave, and he saw it was a life-buoy.
+Encumbered with wet clothes, he seemed impotent in the big waves;
+they threw him up so high, and down so low.
+
+Almost exhausted, he got to the life-buoy, and clutched it with a
+fierce grasp and a wild cry of delight.  He got it over his head,
+and, placing his arms round the buoyant circle, stood with his
+breast and head out of water, gasping.
+
+He now drew a long breath, and got his wet hair out of his eyes,
+already smarting with salt water, and, raising himself on the buoy,
+looked out for help.
+
+He saw, to his great concern, the ship already at a distance.  She
+seemed to have flown, and she was still drifting fast away from
+him.
+
+He saw no signs of help.  His heart began to turn as cold as his
+drenched body.  A horrible fear crossed him.
+
+But presently he saw the weather-boat filled, and fall into the
+water; and then a wave rolled between him and the ship, and he only
+saw her topmast.
+
+The next time he rose on a mighty wave he saw the boats together
+astern of the vessel, but not coming his way; and the gloom was
+thickening, the ship becoming indistinct, and all was doubt and
+horror.
+
+A life of agony passed in a few minutes.
+
+He rose and fell like a cork on the buoyant waves--rose and fell,
+and saw nothing but the ship's lights, now terribly distant.
+
+But at last, as he rose and fell, he caught a few fitful glimpses
+of a smaller light rising and falling like himself.  "A boat!" he
+cried, and raising himself as high as he could, shouted, cried,
+implored for help.  He stretched his hands across the water.  "This
+way! this way!"
+
+The light kept moving, but it came no nearer.  They had greatly
+underrated the drift.  The other boat had no light.
+
+Minutes passed of suspense, hope, doubt, dismay, terror.  Those
+minutes seemed hours.
+
+In the agony of suspense the quaking heart sent beads of sweat to
+the brow, though the body was immersed.
+
+And the gloom deepened, and the cold waves flung him up to heaven
+with their giant arms, and then down again to hell: and still that
+light, his only hope, was several hundred yards from him.
+
+Only for a moment at a time could his eyeballs, straining with
+agony, catch this will-o'-the-wisp, the boat's light.  It groped
+the sea up and down, but came no near.
+
+When what seemed days of agony had passed, suddenly a rocket rose
+in the horizon--so it seemed to him.
+
+The lost man gave a shriek of joy; so prone are we to interpret
+things hopefully.
+
+Misery!  The next time he saw that little light, that solitary
+spark of hope, it was not quite so near as before.  A mortal
+sickness fell on his heart.  The ship had recalled the boats by
+rocket.
+
+He shrieked, he cried, he screamed, he raved.  "Oh, Rosa! Rosa! for
+her sake, men, men, do not leave me.  I am here! here!"
+
+In vain.  The miserable man saw the boat's little light retire,
+recede, and melt into the ship's larger light, and that light
+glided away.
+
+Then, a cold, deadly stupor fell on him.  Then, death's icy claw
+seized his heart, and seemed to run from it to every part of him.
+He was a dead man.  Only a question of time.  Nothing to gain by
+floating.
+
+But the despairing mind could not quit the world in peace, and even
+here in the cold, cruel sea, the quivering body clung to this
+fragment of life, and winced at death's touch, though more
+merciful.
+
+He despised this weakness; he raged at it; he could not overcome
+it.
+
+Unable to live or to die, condemned to float slowly, hour by hour,
+down into death's jaws.
+
+To a long, death-like stupor succeeded frenzy.  Fury seized this
+great and long-suffering mind.  It rose against the cruelty and
+injustice of his fate.  He cursed the world, whose stupidity had
+driven him to sea, he cursed remorseless nature; and at last he
+railed on the God who made him, and made the cruel water, that was
+waiting for his body.  "God's justice!  God's mercy!  God's power!
+they are all lies," he shouted, "dreams, chimeras, like Him the
+all-powerful and good, men babble of by the fire.  If there was a
+God more powerful than the sea, and only half as good as men are,
+he would pity my poor Rosa and me, and send a hurricane to drive
+those caitiffs back to the wretch they have abandoned.  Nature
+alone is mighty.  Oh, if I could have her on my side, and only God
+against me!  But she is as deaf to prayer as He is: as mechanical
+and remorseless.  I am a bubble melting into the sea.  Soul I have
+none; my body will soon be nothing, nothing.  So ends an honest,
+loving life.  I always tried to love my fellow-creatures.  Curse
+them! curse them!  Curse the earth!  Curse the sea!  Curse all
+nature: there is no other God for me to curse."
+
+The moon came out.
+
+He raised his head and staring eyeballs, and cursed her.
+
+The wind began to whistle, and flung spray in his face.
+
+He raised his fallen head and staring eyeballs, and cursed the
+wind.
+
+While he was thus raving, he became sensible of a black object to
+windward.
+
+It looked like a rail, and a man leaning on it.
+
+He stared, he cleared the wet hair from his eyes, and stared again.
+
+The thing, being larger than himself and partly out of water, was
+drifting to leeward faster than himself.
+
+He stared and trembled, and at last it came nearly abreast, black,
+black.
+
+He gave a loud cry, and tried to swim towards it; but encumbered
+with his life-buoy, he made little progress.  The thing drifted
+abreast of him, but ten yards distant.
+
+As they each rose high upon the waves, he saw it plainly.
+
+It was the very raft that had been the innocent cause of his sad
+fate.
+
+He shouted with hope, he swam, he struggled; he got near it, but
+not to it; it drifted past, and he lost his chance of intercepting
+it.  He struggled after it.  The life-buoy would not let him catch
+it.
+
+Then he gave a cry of agony, rage, despair, and flung off the life-
+buoy, and risked all on this one chance.
+
+He gains a little on the raft.
+
+He loses.
+
+He gains: he cries, "Rosa!  Rosa!" and struggles with all his soul,
+as well as his body: he gains.
+
+But when almost within reach, a wave half drowns him, and he loses.
+
+He cries, "Rosa!  Rosa!" and swims high and strong.  "Rosa!  Rosa!
+Rosa!"
+
+He is near it.  He cries, "Rosa!  Rosa!" and with all the energy of
+love and life flings himself almost out of the water, and catches
+hold of the nearest thing on the raft.
+
+It was the dead man's leg.
+
+It seemed as if it would come away in his grasp.  He dared not try
+to pull himself up by that.  But he held on by it, panting,
+exhausting, faint.
+
+This faintness terrified him.  "Oh," thought he, "if I faint now,
+all is over."
+
+Holding by that terrible and strange support, he made a grasp, and
+caught hold of the woodwork at the bottom of the rail.  He tried to
+draw himself up.  Impossible.
+
+He was no better off than with his life-buoy.
+
+But in situations so dreadful, men think fast; he worked gradually
+round the bottom of the raft by his hands, till he got to leeward,
+still holding on.  There he found a solid block of wood at the edge
+of the raft.  He prised himself carefully up; the raft in that part
+then sank a little: he got his knee upon the timber of the raft,
+and with a wild cry seized the nearest upright, and threw both arms
+round it and clung tight.  Then first he found breath to speak.
+"THANK GOD!" he cried, kneeling on the timber, and grasping the
+upright post--"OH, THANK GOD! THANK GOD!"
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+"Thank God!" why, according to his theory, it should have been
+"Thank Nature."  But I observe that, in such cases, even
+philosophers are ungrateful to the mistress they worship.
+
+Our philosopher not only thanked God, but being on his knees,
+prayed forgiveness for his late ravings, prayed hard, with one arm
+curled round the upright, lest the sea, which ever and anon rushed
+over the bottom of the raft, should swallow him up in a moment.
+
+Then he rose carefully, and wedged himself into the corner of the
+raft opposite to that other figure, ominous relic of the wild
+voyage the new-comer had entered upon; he put both arms over the
+rail, and stood erect.
+
+The moon was now up; but so was the breeze: fleecy clouds flew with
+vast rapidity across her bright face, and it was by fitful though
+vivid glances Staines examined the raft and his companion.
+
+The raft was large, and well made of timbers tied and nailed
+together, and a strong rail ran round it resting on several
+uprights.  There were also some blocks of a very light wood screwed
+to the horizontal timbers, and these made it float high.
+
+But what arrested and fascinated the man's gaze was his dead
+companion, sole survivor, doubtless, of a horrible voyage, since
+the raft was not made for one, nor by one.
+
+It was a skeleton, or nearly, whose clothes the seabirds had torn,
+and pecked every limb in all the fleshy parts; the rest of the body
+had dried to dark leather on the bones.  The head was little more
+than an eyeless skull; but in the fitful moonlight, those huge
+hollow caverns seemed gigantic lamp-like eyes, and glared at him
+fiendishly, appallingly.
+
+He sickened at the sight.  He tried not to look at it; but it would
+be looked at, and threaten him in the moonlight, with great lack-
+lustre eyes.
+
+The wind whistled, and lashed his face with spray torn off the big
+waves, and the water was nearly up to his knees, and the raft
+tossed so wildly, it was all he could do to hold on in his corner:
+in which struggle, still those monstrous lack-lustre eyes, like
+lamps of death, glared at him in the moon; all else was dark,
+except the fiery crests of the black mountain-billows, tumbling and
+raging all around.
+
+What a night!
+
+But, before morning, the breeze sank, the moon set, and a sombre
+quiet succeeded, with only that grim figure in outline dimly
+visible.  Owing to the motion still retained by the waves, it
+seemed to nod and rear, and be ever preparing to rush upon him.
+
+The sun rose glorious, on a lovely scene; the sky was a very mosaic
+of colors sweet and vivid, and the tranquil, rippling sea, peach-
+colored to the horizon, with lines of diamonds where the myriad
+ripples broke into smiles.
+
+Staines was asleep, exhausted.  Soon the light awoke him, and he
+looked up.  What an incongruous picture met his eye: that heaven of
+color all above and around, and right before him, like a devil
+stuck in mid-heaven, that grinning corpse, whose fate foreshadowed
+his own.
+
+But daylight is a great strengthener of the nerves; the figure no
+longer appalled him--a man who had long learned to look with
+Science's calm eye upon the dead.  When the sea became like glass,
+and from peach-color deepened to rose, he walked along the raft,
+and inspected the dead man.  He found it was a man of color, but
+not a black.  The body was not kept in its place, as he had
+supposed, merely by being jammed into the angle caused by the rail;
+it was also lashed to the corner upright by a long, stout belt.
+Staines concluded this had kept the body there, and its companions
+had been swept away.
+
+This was not lost on him: he removed the belt for his own use: he
+then found it was not only a belt, but a receptacle; it was nearly
+full of small, hard substances that felt like stones.
+
+When he had taken it off the body, he felt a compunction.  "Ought
+he to rob the dead, and expose it to be swept into the sea at the
+first wave, like a dead dog?"
+
+He was about to replace the belt, when a middle course occurred to
+him.  He was a man who always carried certain useful little things
+about him, viz., needles, thread, scissors, and string.  He took a
+piece of string, and easily secured this poor light skeleton to the
+raft.  The belt he strapped to the rail, and kept for his own need.
+
+And now hunger gnawed him.  No food was near.  There was nothing
+but the lovely sea and sky, mosaic with color, and that grim,
+ominous skeleton.
+
+Hunger comes and goes many times before it becomes insupportable.
+All that day and night, and the next day, he suffered its pangs;
+and then it became torture, but the thirst maddening.
+
+Towards night fell a gentle rain.  He spread a handkerchief and
+caught it.  He sucked the handkerchief.
+
+This revived him, and even allayed in some degree the pangs of
+hunger.
+
+Next day was cloudless.  A hot sun glared on his unprotected head,
+and battered down his enfeebled frame.
+
+He resisted as well as he could.  He often dipped his head, and as
+often the persistent sun, with cruel glare, made it smoke again.
+
+Next day the same: but the strength to meet it was waning.  He lay
+down and thought of Rosa, and wept bitterly.  He took the dead
+man's belt, and lashed himself to the upright.  That act, and his
+tears for his beloved, were almost his last acts of perfect reason:
+for next day came the delusions and the dreams that succeed when
+hunger ceases to torture, and the vital powers begin to ebb.  He
+lay and saw pleasant meadows with meandering streams, and clusters
+of rich fruit that courted the hand and melted in the mouth.
+
+Ever and anon they vanished, and he saw grim death looking down on
+him with those big cavernous eyes.
+
+By and by, whether his body's eye saw the grim skeleton, or his
+mind's eye the juicy fruits, green meadows, and pearly brooks, all
+was shadowy.
+
+So, in a placid calm, beneath a blue sky, the raft drifted dead,
+with its dead freight, upon the glassy purple, and he drifted, too,
+towards the world unknown.
+
+There came across the waters to that dismal raft a thing none too
+common, by sea or land--a good man.
+
+He was tall, stalwart, bronzed, and had hair like snow, before his
+time, for he had known trouble.  He commanded a merchant steamer,
+bound for Calcutta, on the old route.
+
+The man at the mast-head descried a floating wreck, and hailed the
+deck accordingly.  The captain altered his course without one
+moment's hesitation, and brought up alongside, lowered a boat, and
+brought the dead, and the breathing man, on board.
+
+A young middy lifted Staines in his arms from the wreck to the
+boat; he whose person I described in chapter one weighed now no
+more than that.
+
+Men are not always rougher than women.  Their strength and nerve
+enable them now and then to be gentler than buttery-fingered
+angels, who drop frail things through sensitive agitation, and
+break them.  These rough men saw Staines was hovering between life
+and death, and they handled him like a thing the ebbing life might
+be shaken out of in a moment.  It was pretty to see how gingerly
+the sailors carried the sinking man up the ladder, and one fetched
+swabs, and the others laid him down softly on them at their
+captain's feet.
+
+"Well done, men," said he.  "Poor fellow!  Pray Heaven, we may not
+have come too late.  Now stand aloof a bit.  Send the surgeon aft."
+
+The surgeon came, and looked, and felt the heart.  He shook his
+head, and called for brandy.  He had Staines's head raised, and got
+half a spoonful of diluted brandy down his throat.  But there was
+an ominous gurgling.
+
+After several such attempts at intervals, he said plainly the man's
+life could not be saved by ordinary means.
+
+"Then try extraordinary," said the captain.  "My orders are that he
+is to be saved.  There is life in him.  You have only got to keep
+it there.  He MUST be saved; he SHALL be saved."
+
+"I should like to try Dr. Staines's remedy," said the surgeon.
+
+"Try it, then what is it?"
+
+"A bath of beef-tea.  Dr. Staines says he applied it to a starved
+child--in the Lancet."
+
+"Take a hundred-weight of beef, and boil it in the coppers."
+
+Thus encouraged, the surgeon went to the cook, and very soon beef
+was steaming on a scale and at a rate unparalleled.
+
+Meantime, Captain Dodd had the patient taken to his own cabin, and
+he and his servant administered weak brandy and water with great
+caution and skill.
+
+There was no perceptible result.  But at all events there was life
+and vital instinct left, or he could not have swallowed.
+
+Thus they hovered about him for some hours, and then the bath was
+ready.
+
+The captain took charge of the patient's clothes: the surgeon and a
+sailor bathed him in lukewarm beef-tea, and then covered him very
+warm with blankets next the skin.  Guess how near a thing it seemed
+to them, when I tell you they dared not rub him.
+
+Just before sunset his pulse became perceptible.  The surgeon
+administered half a spoonful of egg-flip.  The patient swallowed
+it.
+
+By and by he sighed.
+
+"He must not be left, day or night," said the captain.  "I don't
+know who or what he is, but he is a man; and I could not bear him
+to die now."
+
+That night Captain Dodd overhauled the patient's clothes, and
+looked for marks on his linen.  There were none.
+
+"Poor devil " said Captain Dodd.  "He is a bachelor."
+
+Captain Dodd found his pocket-book, with bank-notes, two hundred
+pounds.  He took the numbers, made a memorandum of them, and locked
+the notes up.
+
+He lighted his lamp, examined the belt, unripped it, and poured out
+the contents on his table.
+
+They were dazzling.  A great many large pieces of amethyst, and
+some of white topaz and rock crystal; a large number of smaller
+stones, carbuncles, chrysolites, and not a few emeralds.  Dodd
+looked at them with pleasure, sparkling in the lamplight.
+
+"What a lot!" said he.  "I wonder what they are worth!"  He sent
+for the first mate, who, he knew, did a little private business in
+precious stones.  "Masterton," said he, "oblige me by counting
+these stones with me, and valuing them."
+
+Mr. Masterton stared, and his mouth watered.  However, he named the
+various stones and valued them.  He said there was one stone, a
+large emerald, without a flaw, that was worth a heavy sum by
+itself; and the pearls, very fine: and looking at the great number,
+they must be worth a thousand pounds.
+
+Captain Dodd then entered the whole business carefully in the
+ship's log: the living man he described thus: "About five feet six
+in height, and about fifty years of age."  Then he described the
+notes and the stones very exactly, and made Masterton, the valuer,
+sign the log.
+
+Staines took a good deal of egg-flip that night, and next day ate
+solid food; but they questioned him in vain; his reason was
+entirely in abeyance: he had become an eater, and nothing else.
+Whenever they gave him food, he showed a sort of fawning animal
+gratitude.  Other sentiment he had none, nor did words enter his
+mind any more than a bird's.  And since it is not pleasant to dwell
+on the wreck of a fine understanding, I will only say that they
+landed him at Cape Town, out of bodily danger, but weak, and his
+mind, to all appearance, a hopeless blank.
+
+They buried the skeleton,--read the service of the English Church
+over a Malabar heathen.
+
+Dodd took Staines to the hospital, and left twenty pounds with the
+governor of it to cure him.  But he deposited Staines's money and
+jewels with a friendly banker, and begged that the principal
+cashier might see the man, and be able to recognize him, should he
+apply for his own.
+
+The cashier came and examined him, and also the ruby ring on his
+finger--a parting gift from Rosa--and remarked this was a new way
+of doing business.
+
+"Why, it is the only one, sir," said Dodd.  "How can we give you
+his signature?  He is not in his right mind."
+
+"Nor never will be."
+
+"Don't say that, sir.  Let us hope for the best, poor fellow."
+
+Having made these provisions, the worthy captain weighed anchor,
+with a warm heart and a good conscience.  Yet the image of the man
+he had saved pursued him, and he resolved to look after him next
+time he should coal at Cape Town, homeward bound.
+
+Staines recovered his strength in about two months; but his mind
+returned in fragments, and very slowly.  For a long, long time he
+remembered nothing that had preceded his great calamity.  His mind
+started afresh, aided only by certain fixed habits; for instance,
+he could read and write: but, strange as it may appear, he had no
+idea who he was; and when his memory cleared a little on that head,
+he thought his surname was Christie, but he was not sure.
+
+Nevertheless, the presiding physician discovered in him a certain
+progress of intelligence, which gave him great hopes.  In the fifth
+month, having shown a marked interest in the other sick patients,
+coupled with a disposition to be careful and attentive, they made
+him a nurse, or rather a sub-nurse under the special orders of a
+responsible nurse.  I really believe it was done at first to avoid
+the alternative of sending him adrift, or transferring him to the
+insane ward of the hospital.  In this congenial pursuit he showed
+such watchfulness and skill, that by and by they found they had got
+a treasure.  Two months after that he began to talk about medicine,
+and astonished them still more.  He became the puzzle of the
+establishment.  The doctor and surgeon would converse with him, and
+try and lead him to his past life; but when it came to that, he
+used to put his hands to his head with a face of great distress,
+and it was clear some impassable barrier lay between his growing
+intelligence and the past events of his life.  Indeed, on one
+occasion, he said to his kind friend the doctor, "The past!--a
+black wall! a black wall!"
+
+Ten months after his admission he was promoted to be an attendant,
+with a salary.
+
+He put by every shilling of it; for he said, "A voice from the dark
+past tells me money is everything in this world."
+
+A discussion was held by the authorities as to whether he should be
+informed he had money and jewels at the bank or not.
+
+Upon the whole, it was thought advisable to postpone this
+information, lest he should throw it away; but they told him he had
+been picked up at sea, and both money and jewels found on him; they
+were in safe hands, only the person was away for the time.  Still,
+he was not to look upon himself as either friendless or moneyless.
+
+At this communication he showed an almost childish delight, that
+confirmed the doctor in his opinion he was acting prudently, and
+for the real benefit of an amiable and afflicted person, not yet to
+be trusted with money and jewels.
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+In his quality of attendant on the sick, Staines sometimes
+conducted a weak but convalescent patient into the open air; and he
+was always pleased to do this, for the air of the Cape carries
+health and vigor on its wings.  He had seen its fine recreative
+properties, and he divined, somehow, that the minds of
+convalescents ought to be amused, and so he often begged the doctor
+to let him take a convalescent abroad.  Sooner than not, he would
+draw the patient several miles in a Bath chair.  He rather liked
+this; for he was a Hercules, and had no egotism or false pride
+where the sick were concerned.
+
+Now, these open-air walks exerted a beneficial influence on his own
+darkened mind.  It is one thing to struggle from idea to idea; it
+is another when material objects mingle with the retrospect; they
+seem to supply stepping-stones in the gradual resuscitation of
+memory and reason.
+
+The ships going out of port were such a steppingstone to him, and a
+vague consciousness came back to him of having been in a ship.
+
+Unfortunately, along with this reminiscence came a desire to go in
+one again; and this sowed discontent in his mind, and the more that
+mind enlarged, the more he began to dislike the hospital and its
+confinement.  The feeling grew, and bade fair to disqualify him for
+his humble office.  The authorities could not fail to hear of this,
+and they had a little discussion about parting with him; but they
+hesitated to turn him adrift, and they still doubted the propriety
+of trusting him with money and jewels.
+
+While matters were in this state a remarkable event occurred.  He
+drew a sick patient down to the quay one morning, and watched the
+business of the port with the keenest interest.  A ship at anchor
+was unloading, and a great heavy boat was sticking to her side like
+a black leech.  Presently this boat came away, and moved sluggishly
+towards the shore, rather by help of the tide than of the two men
+who went through the form of propelling her with two monstrous
+sweeps, while a third steered her.  She contained English goods:
+agricultural implements, some cases, four horses, and a buxom young
+woman with a thorough English face.  The woman seemed a little
+excited, and as she neared the landing-place, she called out in
+jocund tones to a young man on the shore, "It is all right, Dick;
+they are beauties," and she patted the beasts as people do who are
+fond of them.
+
+She stepped lightly ashore, and then came the slower work of
+landing her imports.  She bustled about, like a hen over her brood,
+and wasn't always talking, but put in her word every now and then,
+never crossly, and always to the point.
+
+Staines listened to her, and examined her with a sort of puzzled
+look; but she took no notice of him; her whole soul was in the
+cattle.
+
+They got the things on board well enough; but the horses were
+frightened at the gangway, and jibbed.  Then a man was for driving
+them, and poked one of them in the quarter; he snorted and reared
+directly.
+
+"Man alive!" cried the young woman, "that is not the way.  They are
+docile enough, but frightened.  Encourage 'em, and let 'em look at
+it.  Give 'em time.  More haste less speed, with timorous cattle."
+
+"That is a very pleasant voice," said poor Staines, rather more
+dictatorially than became the present state of his intellect.  He
+added softly, "a true woman's voice;" then gloomily, "a voice of
+the past--the dark, dark past."
+
+At this speech intruding itself upon the short sentences of
+business, there was a roar of laughter, and Phoebe Falcon turned
+sharply round to look at the speaker.  She stared at him; she cried
+"Oh!" and clasped her hands, and colored all over.  "Why, sure,"
+said she, "I can't be mistook.  Those eyes--'tis you, doctor, isn't
+it?"
+
+"Doctor?" said Staines, with a puzzled look.  "Yes; I think they
+called me doctor once.  I'm an attendant in the hospital now."
+
+"Dick!" cried Phoebe, in no little agitation.  "Come here this
+minute."
+
+"What, afore I get the horses ashore?"
+
+"Ay, before you do another thing, or say another word.  Come here,
+now."  So he came, and she told him to take a good look at the man.
+"Now," said she, "who is that?"
+
+"Blest if I know," said he.
+
+"What, not know the man who saved your own life!  Oh, Dick, what
+are your eyes worth?"
+
+This discourse brought the few persons within hearing into one band
+of excited starers.
+
+Dick took a good look, and said, "I'm blest if I don't, though; it
+is the doctor that cut my throat."
+
+This strange statement drew forth quite a shout of ejaculations.
+
+"Oh, better breathe through a slit than not at all," said Dick.
+"Saved my life with that cut, he did, didn't he, Pheeb?"
+
+"That he did, Dick.  Dear heart, I hardly know whether I am in my
+senses or not, seeing him a-looking so blank.  You try him."
+
+Dick came forward.  "Sure you remember me, sir.  Dick Dale.  You
+cut my throat, and saved my life."
+
+"Cut your throat! why, that would kill you."
+
+"Not the way you done it.  Well, sir, you ain't the man you was,
+that is clear; but you was a good friend to me, and there's my
+hand."
+
+"Thank you, Dick," said Staines, and took his hand.  "I don't
+remember YOU.  Perhaps you are one of the past.  The past is dead
+wall to me--a dark dead wall," and he put his hands to his head
+with a look of distress.
+
+Everybody there now suspected the truth, and some pointed
+mysteriously to their own heads.
+
+Phoebe whispered an inquiry to the sick person.
+
+He said a little pettishly, "All I know is, he is the kindest
+attendant in the ward, and very attentive."
+
+"Oh, then, he is in the public hospital."
+
+"Of course he is."
+
+The invalid, with the selfishness of his class, then begged Staines
+to take him out of all this bustle down to the beach.  Staines
+complied at once, with the utmost meekness, and said, "Good-by, old
+friends; forgive me for not remembering you.  It is my great
+affliction that the past is gone from me--gone, gone."  And he went
+sadly away, drawing his sick charge like a patient mule.
+
+Phoebe Falcon looked after him, and began to cry.
+
+"Nay, nay, Phoebe," said Dick; "don't ye take on about it."
+
+"I wonder at you," sobbed Phoebe.  "Good people, I'm fonder of my
+brother than he is of himself, it seems; for I can't take it so
+easy.  Well, the world is full of trouble.  Let us do what we are
+here for.  But I shall pray for the poor soul every night, that his
+mind may be given back to him."
+
+So then she bustled, and gave herself to getting the cattle on
+shore, and the things put on board her wagon.
+
+But when this was done, she said to her brother, "Dick, I did not
+think anything on earth could take my heart off the cattle and the
+things we have got from home; but I can't leave this without going
+to the hospital about our poor dear doctor: and it is late for
+making a start, any way--and you mustn't forget the newspapers for
+Reginald--he is so fond of them--and you must contrive to have one
+sent out regular after this, and I'll go to the hospital."
+
+She went, and saw the head doctor, and told him he had got an
+attendant there she had known in England in a very different
+condition, and she had come to see if there was anything she could
+do for him--for she felt very grateful to him, and grieved to see
+him so.
+
+The doctor was pleased and surprised, and put several questions.
+
+Then she gave him a clear statement of what he had done for Dick in
+England.
+
+"Well," said the doctor, "I believe it is the same man; for, now
+you tell me this--yes, one of the nurses told me he knew more about
+medicine than she did.  His name, if you please."
+
+"His name, sir?"
+
+"Yes, his name.  Of course you know his name.  Is it Christie?"
+
+"Doctor," said Phoebe, blushing, "I don't know what you will think
+of me, but I don't know his name.  Laws forgive me, I never had the
+sense to ask it."
+
+A shade of suspicion crossed the doctor's face.
+
+Phoebe saw it, and colored to the temples.  "Oh, sir," she cried
+piteously, "don't go for to think I have told you a lie! why should
+I? and indeed I am not of that sort, nor Dick neither.  Sir, I'll
+bring him to you, and he will say the same.  Well, we were all in
+terror and confusion, and I met him accidentally in the street.  He
+was only a customer till then, and paid ready money, so that is how
+I never knew his name, but if I hadn't been the greatest fool in
+England, I should have asked his wife."
+
+"What! he has a wife?"
+
+"Ay, sir, the loveliest lady you ever clapped eyes on, and he is
+almost as handsome; has eyes in his head like jewels; 'twas by them
+I knew him on the quay, and I think he knew my voice again, said as
+good as he had heard it in past times."
+
+"Did he?  Then we have got him," cried the doctor energetically.
+
+"La, Sir."
+
+"Yes; if he knows your voice, you will be able in time to lead his
+memory back; at least, I think so.  Do you live in Cape Town?"
+
+"Dear heart, no.  I live at my own farm, a hundred and eighty miles
+from this."
+
+"What a pity!"
+
+"Why, sir?"
+
+"Well--hum!"
+
+"Oh, if you think I could do the poor doctor good by having him
+with me, you have only to say the word, and out he goes with Dick
+and me to-morrow morning.  We should have started for home to-
+night, but for this."
+
+"Are you in earnest, madam?" said the doctor, opening his eyes.
+"Would you really encumber yourself with a person whose reason is
+in suspense, and may never return?"
+
+"But that is not his fault, sir.  Why, if a dog had saved my
+brother's life, I'd take it home, and keep it all its days; and
+this is a man, and a worthy man.  Oh, sir, when I saw him brought
+down so, and his beautiful eyes clouded like, my very bosom yearned
+over the poor soul; a kind act done in dear old England, who can
+see the man in trouble here, and not repay it--ay, if it cost one's
+blood.  But indeed he is strong and healthy, and hands are always
+scarce our way, and the odds are he will earn his meat one way or
+t'other; and if he doesn't, why, all the better for me; I shall
+have the pleasure of serving him for nought that once served me for
+neither money nor reward."
+
+"You are a good woman," said the doctor warmly.
+
+"There's better, and there's worse," said Phoebe quietly, and even
+a little coldly.
+
+"More of the latter," said the doctor dryly.  "Well, Mrs.--?"
+
+"Falcon, sir."
+
+"We shall hand him over to your care: but first--just for form--if
+you are a married woman, we should like to see Dick here: he is
+your husband, I presume."
+
+Ploebe laughed merrily.  "Dick is my brother; and he can't be
+spared to come here.  Dick! he'd say black was white if I told him
+to."
+
+"Then let us see your husband about it--just for form."
+
+"My husband is at the farm.  I could not venture so far away, and
+not leave him in charge."  If she had said, "I will not bring him
+into temptation," that would have been nearer the truth.  "Let that
+fly stick on the wall, sir.  What I do, my husband will approve."
+
+"I see how it is.  You rule the roost."
+
+Phoebe did not reply point-blank to that; she merely said, "All my
+chickens are happy, great and small," and an expression of lofty,
+womanly, innocent pride illuminated her face and made it superb for
+a moment.
+
+In short, it was settled that Staines should accompany her next
+morning to Dale's Kloof Farm, if he chose.  On inquiry, it appeared
+that he had just returned to the hospital with his patient.  He was
+sent for, and Phoebe asked him sweetly if he would go with her to
+her house, one hundred and eighty miles away, and she would be kind
+to him.
+
+"On the water?"
+
+"Nay, by land; but 'tis a fine country, and you will see beautiful
+deer and things running across the plains, and"--
+
+"Shall I find the past again, the past again?"
+
+"Ay, poor soul, that we shall, God willing.  You and I, we will
+hunt it together."
+
+He looked at her, and gave her his hand.  "I will go with you.
+Your face belongs to the past, so does your voice."
+
+He then inquired, rather abruptly, had she any children.  She
+smiled.
+
+"Ay, that I have, the loveliest little boy you ever saw.  When you
+are as you used to be, you will be his doctor, won't you?"
+
+"Yes, I will nurse him, and you will help me find the past."
+
+Phoebe then begged Staines to be ready to start at six in the
+morning.  She and Dick would take him up on their way.
+
+While she was talking to him the doctor slipped out, and to tell
+the truth he went to consult with another authority, whether he
+should take this opportunity of telling Staines that he had money
+and jewels at the bank: he himself was half inclined to do so; but
+the other, who had not seen Phoebe's face, advised him to do
+nothing of the kind.  "They are always short of money, these
+colonial farmers," said he; "she would get every shilling out of
+him."
+
+"Most would; but this is such an honest face."
+
+"Well, but she is a mother, you say."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, what mother could be just to a lunatic, with her own sweet
+angel babes to provide for?"
+
+"That is true," said Dr. ----.  "Maternal love is apt to modify the
+conscience."
+
+"What I would do,--I would take her address, and make her promise
+to write if he gets well, and if he does get well then write to
+HIM, and tell him all about it."
+
+Dr. ---- acted on this shrewd advice, and ordered a bundle to be
+made up for the traveller out of the hospital stores: it contained
+a nice light summer suit and two changes of linen.
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+Next morning, Staines and Dick Dale walked through the streets of
+Cape Town side by side.  Dick felt the uneasiness of a sane man,
+not familiar with the mentally afflicted, who suddenly finds
+himself alone with one.  Insanity turns men oftenest into sheep and
+hares; but it does now and then make them wolves and tigers; and
+that has saddled the insane in general with a character for
+ferocity.  Young Dale, then, cast many a suspicious glance at his
+comrade, as he took him along.  These glances were reassuring:
+Christopher's face had no longer the mobility, the expressive
+changes, that mark the superior mind; his countenance was
+monotonous: but the one expression was engaging; there was a sweet,
+patient, lamb-like look: the glorious eye a little troubled and
+perplexed, but wonderfully mild.  Dick Dale looked and looked, and
+his uneasiness vanished.  And the more he looked, the more did a
+certain wonder creep over him, and make him scarce believe the
+thing he knew; viz., that a learned doctor had saved him from the
+jaws of death by rare knowledge, sagacity, courage, and skill
+combined: and that mighty man of wisdom was brought down to this
+lamb, and would go north, south, east, or west, with sweet and
+perfect submission, even as he, Dick Dale, should appoint.  With
+these reflections honest Dick felt his eyes get a little misty,
+and, to use those words of Scripture, which nothing can surpass or
+equal, his bowels yearned over the man.
+
+As for Christopher, he looked straight forward, and said not a word
+till they cleared the town; but when he saw the vast flowery vale,
+and the far-off violet hills, like Scotland glorified, he turned to
+Dick with an ineffable expression of sweetness and good fellowship,
+and said, "Oh, beautiful!  We'll hunt the past together."
+
+"We--will--SO," said Dick, with a sturdy and indeed almost a stern
+resolution.
+
+Now, this he said, not that he cared for the past, nor intended to
+waste the present by going upon its predecessor's trail; but he had
+come to a resolution--full three minutes ago--to humor his
+companion to the top of his bent, and say "Yes" with hypocritical
+vigor to everything not directly and immediately destructive to him
+and his.
+
+The next moment they turned a corner and came upon the rest of
+their party, hitherto hidden by the apricot hedge and a turning in
+the road.  A blue-black Kafir, with two yellow Hottentot drivers,
+man and boy, was harnessing, in the most primitive mode, four
+horses on to the six oxen attached to the wagon; and the horses
+were flattening their ears, and otherwise resenting the
+incongruity.  Meantime a fourth figure, a colossal young Kafir
+woman, looked on superior with folded arms, like a sable Juno
+looking down with that absolute composure upon the struggles of man
+and other animals, which Lucretius and his master Epicurus assigned
+to the Divine nature.  Without jesting, the grandeur, majesty, and
+repose of this figure were unsurpassable in nature, and such as
+have vanished from sculpture two thousand years and more.
+
+Dick Dale joined the group immediately, and soon arranged the
+matter.  Meantime, Phoebe descended from the wagon, and welcomed
+Christopher very kindly, and asked him if he would like to sit
+beside her, or to walk.
+
+He glanced into the wagon; it was covered and curtained, and dark
+as a cupboard.  "I think," said he, timidly, "I shall see more of
+the past out here."
+
+"So you will, poor soul," said Phoebe kindly, "and better for your
+health: but you must not go far from the wagon, for I'm a fidget;
+and I have got the care of you now, you know, for want of a better.
+Come, Ucatella; you must ride with me, and help me sort the things;
+they are all higgledy-piggledy."  So those two got into the wagon
+through the back curtains.  Then the Kafir driver flourished his
+kambok, or long whip, in the air, and made it crack like a pistol,
+and the horses reared, and the oxen started and slowly bored in
+between them, for they whinnied, and kicked, and spread out like a
+fan all over the road; but a flick or two from the terrible kambok
+soon sent them bleeding and trembling and rubbing shoulders, and
+the oxen, mildly but persistently goring their recalcitrating
+haunches, the intelligent animals went ahead, and revenged
+themselves by breaking the harness.  But that goes for little in
+Cape travel.
+
+The body of the wagon was long and low and very stout.  The tilt
+strong and tight-made.  The roof inside, and most of the sides,
+lined with green baize.  Curtains of the same to the little window
+and the back.  There was a sort of hold literally built full of
+purchases; a small fireproof safe; huge blocks of salt; saws, axes,
+pickaxes, adzes, flails, tools innumerable, bales of wool and linen
+stuff, hams, and two hundred empty sacks strewn over all.  In large
+pigeon-holes fixed to the sides were light goods, groceries,
+collars, glaring cotton handkerchiefs for Phoebe's aboriginal
+domestics, since not every year did she go to Cape Town, a twenty
+days' journey by wagon: things dangled from the very roof; but no
+hard goods there, if you please, to batter one's head in a spill.
+Outside were latticed grooves with tent, tent-poles, and rifles.
+Great pieces of cork, and bags of hay and corn, hung dangling from
+mighty hooks--the latter to feed the cattle, should they be
+compelled to camp out on some sterile spot on the Veldt, and
+methinks to act as buffers, should the whole concern roll down a
+nullah or little precipice, no very uncommon incident in the
+blessed region they must pass to reach Dale's Kloof.
+
+Harness mended; fresh start.  The Hottentots and Kafir vociferated
+and yelled, and made the unearthly row of a dozen wild beasts
+wrangling: the horses drew the bullocks, they the wagon; it crawled
+and creaked, and its appendages wobbled finely.
+
+Slowly they creaked and wobbled past apricot hedges and detached
+houses and huts, and got into an open country without a tree, but
+here and there a stunted camel-thorn.  The soil was arid, and grew
+little food for man or beast; yet, by a singular freak of nature,
+it put forth abundantly things that here at home we find it harder
+to raise than homely grass and oats; the ground was thickly clad
+with flowers of delightful hues; pyramids of snow or rose-color
+bordered the track; yellow and crimson stars bejewelled the ground,
+and a thousand bulbous plants burst into all imaginable colors, and
+spread a rainbow carpet to the foot of the violet hills; and all
+this glowed, and gleamed, and glittered in a sun shining with
+incredible brightness and purity of light, but, somehow, without
+giving a headache or making the air sultry.
+
+Christopher fell to gathering flowers, and interrogating the past
+by means of them; for he had studied botany: the past gave him back
+some pitiably vague ideas.  He sighed.  "Never mind," said he to
+Dick, and tapped his forehead: "it is here: it is only locked up."
+
+"All right," said Dick; "nothing is lost when you know where 'tis."
+
+"This is a beautiful country," suggested Christopher.  "It is all
+flowers.  It is like the garden of--the garden of--locked up."
+
+"It is de--light--ful," replied the self-compelled optimist
+sturdily.  But here nature gave way; he was obliged to relieve his
+agricultural bile by getting into the cart and complaining to his
+sister.  "'Twill take us all our time to cure him.  He have been
+bepraising this here soil, which it is only fit to clean the
+women's kettles.  'Twouldn't feed three larks to an acre, I know;
+no, NOR HALF SO MANY."
+
+"Poor soul! mayhap the flowers have took his eye.  Sit here a bit,
+Dick.  I want to talk to you about a many things."
+
+While these two were conversing, Ucatella, who was very fond of
+Phoebe, but abhorred wagons, stepped out and stalked by the side,
+like an ostrich, a camelopard, or a Taglioni; nor did the effort
+with which she subdued her stride to the pace of the procession
+appear: it was the poetry of walking.  Christopher admired it a
+moment; but the noble expanse tempted him, and he strode forth like
+a giant, his lungs inflating in the glorious air, and soon left the
+wagon far behind.
+
+The consequence was that when they came to a halt, and Dick and
+Phoebe got out to release and water the cattle, there was
+Christopher's figure retiring into space.
+
+"Hanc rem aegre tulit Phoebe," as my old friend Livy would say.
+"Oh dear! oh dear! if he strays so far from us, he will be eaten up
+at nightfall by jackals, or lions, or something.  One of you must
+go after him."
+
+"Me go, missy," said Ucatella zealously, pleased with an excuse for
+stretching her magnificent limbs.
+
+"Ay, but mayhap he will not come back with YOU: will he, Dick?"
+
+"That he will, like a lamb."  Dick wanted to look after the cattle.
+
+"Yuke, my girl," said Phoebe, "listen.  He has been a good friend
+of ours in trouble; and now he is not quite right HERE.  So be very
+kind to him, but be sure and bring him back, or keep him till we
+come."
+
+"Me bring him back alive, certain sure," said Ucatella, smiling
+from ear to ear.  She started with a sudden glide, like a boat
+taking the water, and appeared almost to saunter away, so easy was
+the motion; but when you looked at the ground she was covering, the
+stride, or glide, or whatever it was, was amazing.
+
+
+     "She seem'd in walking to devour the way."
+
+
+Christopher walked fast, but nothing like this; and as he stopped
+at times to botanize and gaze at the violet hills, and interrogate
+the past, she came up with him about five miles from the halting-
+place.
+
+She laid her hand quietly on his shoulder, and said, with a broad
+genial smile, and a musical chuckle, "Ucatella come for you.  Missy
+want to speak you."
+
+"Oh! very well;" and he turned back with her, directly; but she
+took him by the hand to make sure; and they marched back peaceably,
+in silence, and hand in hand.  But he looked and looked at her, and
+at last he stopped dead short, and said, a little arrogantly,
+"Come, I know YOU.  YOU are not locked up;" and he inspected her
+point-blank.  She stood like an antique statue, and faced the
+examination.  "You are 'the noble savage,'" said he, having
+concluded his inspection.
+
+"Nay," said she.  "I be the housemaid."
+
+"The housemaid?"
+
+"Iss, the housemaid, Ucatella.  So come on."  And she drew him
+along, sore perplexed.
+
+They met the cavalcade a mile from the halting-place, and Phoebe
+apologized a little to Christopher.  "I hope you'll excuse me,
+sir," said she, "but I am just for all the world like a hen with
+her chickens; if but one strays, I'm all in a flutter till I get
+him back."
+
+"Madam," said Christopher, "I am very unhappy at the way things are
+locked up.  Please tell me truly, is this 'the housemaid,' or 'the
+noble savage'?"
+
+"Well, she is both, if you go to that, and the best creature ever
+breathed."
+
+"Then she IS 'the noble savage'?"
+
+"Ay, so they call her, because she is black."
+
+"Then, thank Heaven," said Christopher, "the past is not all locked
+up."
+
+That afternoon they stopped at an inn.  But Dick slept in the cart.
+At three in the morning they took the road again, and creaked along
+supernaturally loud under a purple firmament studded with huge
+stars, all bright as moons, that lit the way quite clear, and
+showed black things innumerable flitting to and fro; these made
+Phoebe shudder, but were no doubt harmless; still Dick carried his
+double rifle, and a revolver in his belt.
+
+They made a fine march in the cool, until some slight mists
+gathered, and then they halted and breakfasted near a silvery
+kloof, and watered the cattle.  While thus employed, suddenly a
+golden tinge seemed to fall like a lash on the vapors of night;
+they scudded away directly, as jackals before the lion; the stars
+paled, and with one incredible bound, the mighty sun leaped into
+the horizon, and rose into the sky.  In a moment all the lesser
+lamps of heaven were out, though late so glorious, and there was
+nothing but one vast vaulted turquoise, and a great flaming topaz
+mounting with eternal ardor to its centre.
+
+This did not escape Christopher.  "What is this?" said he.  "No
+twilight.  The tropics!"  He managed to dig that word out of the
+past in a moment.
+
+At ten o'clock the sun was so hot that they halted, and let the
+oxen loose till sun-down.  Then they began to climb the mountains.
+
+The way was steep and rugged; indeed, so rough in places, that the
+cattle had to jump over the holes, and as the wagon could not jump
+so cleverly, it jolted appallingly, and many a scream issued forth.
+
+Near the summit, when the poor beasts were dead beat, they got into
+clouds and storms, and the wind rushed howling at them through the
+narrow pass with such fury it flattened the horses' ears, and bade
+fair to sweep the whole cavalcade to the plains below.
+
+Christopher and Dick walked close behind, under the lee of the
+wagon.  Christopher said in Dick's ear, "D'ye hear that?  Time to
+reef topsails, captain."
+
+"It is time to do SOMETHING," said Dick.  He took advantage of a
+jutting rock, drew the wagon half behind it and across the road,
+propped the wheels with stones, and they all huddled to leeward,
+man and beast indiscriminately.
+
+"Ah!" said Christopher, approvingly; "we are lying to: a very--
+proper--course."
+
+They huddled and shivered three hours, and then the sun leaped into
+the sky, and lo! a transformation scene.  The cold clouds were
+first rosy fleeces, then golden ones, then gold-dust, then gone;
+the rain was big diamonds, then crystal sparks, then gone; the
+rocks and the bushes sparkled with gem-like drops, and shone and
+smiled.
+
+The shivering party bustled, and toasted the potent luminary in hot
+coffee; for Phoebe's wagon had a stove and chimney; and then they
+yoked their miscellaneous cattle again, and breasted the hill.
+With many a jump, and bump, and jolt, and scream from inside, they
+reached the summit, and looked down on a vast slope, flowering but
+arid, a region of gaudy sterility.
+
+The descent was more tremendous than the ascent, and Phoebe got
+out, and told Christopher she would liever cross the ocean twice
+than this dreadful mountain once.
+
+The Hottentot with the reins was now bent like a bow all the time,
+keeping the cattle from flowing diverse over precipices, and the
+Kafir with his kambok was here, and there, and everywhere, his whip
+flicking like a lancet, and cracking like a horse-pistol, and the
+pair vied like Apollo and Pan, not which could sing sweetest, but
+swear loudest.  Having the lofty hill for some hours between them
+and the sun, they bumped, and jolted, and stuck in mud-holes, and
+flogged and swore the cattle out of them again, till at last they
+got to the bottom, where ran a turbid kloof or stream.  It was
+fordable, but the recent rains had licked away the slope; so the
+existing bank was two feet above the stream.  Little recked the
+demon drivers or the parched cattle; in they plunged promiscuously,
+with a flop like thunder, followed by an awful splashing.  The
+wagon stuck fast in the mud, the horses tied themselves in a knot,
+and rolled about in the stream, and the oxen drank imperturbably.
+
+"Oh, the salt! the salt!" screamed Phoebe, and the rocks re-echoed
+her lamentations.
+
+The wagon was inextricable, the cattle done up, the savages lazy,
+so they stayed for several hours.  Christopher botanized, but not
+alone.  Phoebe drew Ucatella apart, and explained to her that when
+a man is a little wrong in the head, it makes a child of him: "So,"
+said she, "you must think he is your child, and never let him out
+of your sight."
+
+"All right," said the sable Juno, who spoke English ridiculously
+well, and rapped out idioms; especially "Come on," and "All right."
+
+About dusk, what the drivers had foreseen, though they had not the
+sense to explain it, took place; the kloof dwindled to a mere
+gutter, and the wagon stuck high and dry.  Phoebe waved her
+handkerchief to Ucatella.  Ucatella, who had dogged Christopher
+about four hours without a word, now took his hand, and said, "My
+child, missy wants us; come on;" and so led him unresistingly.
+
+The drivers, flogging like devils, cursing like troopers, and
+yelling like hyenas gone mad, tried to get the wagon off; but it
+was fast as a rock.  Then Dick and the Hottentot put their
+shoulders to one wheel, and tried to prise it up, while the Kafir
+ENCOURAGED the cattle with his thong.  Observing this, Christopher
+went in, with his sable custodian at his heels, and heaved at the
+other embedded wheel.  The wagon was lifted directly, so that the
+cattle tugged it out, and they got clear.  On examination, the salt
+had just escaped.
+
+Says Ucatella to Phoebe, a little ostentatiously, "My child is
+strong and useful; make little missy a good slave."
+
+"A slave!  Heaven forbid!" said Phoebe.  "He'll be a father to us
+all, once he gets his head back; and I do think it is coming--but
+very slow."
+
+The next three days offered the ordinary incidents of African
+travel, but nothing that operated much on Christopher's mind, which
+is the true point of this narrative; and as there are many
+admirable books of African travel, it is the more proper I should
+confine myself to what may be called the relevant incidents of the
+journey.
+
+On the sixth day from Cape Town, they came up with a large wagon
+stuck in a mud-hole.  There was quite a party of Boers, Hottentots,
+Kafirs, round it, armed with whips, shamboks, and oaths, lashing
+and cursing without intermission, or any good effect; and there
+were the wretched beasts straining in vain at their choking yokes,
+moaning with anguish, trembling with terror, their poor mild eyes
+dilated with agony and fear, and often, when the blows of the cruel
+shamboks cut open their bleeding flesh, they bellowed to Heaven
+their miserable and vain protest against this devil's work.
+
+Then the past opened its stores, and lent Christopher a word.
+
+"BARBARIANS!" he roared, and seized a gigantic Kafir by the throat,
+just as his shambok descended for the hundredth time.  There was a
+mighty struggle, as of two Titans; dust flew round the combatants
+in a cloud; a whirling of big bodies, and down they both went with
+an awful thud, the Saxon uppermost, by Nature's law.
+
+The Kafir's companions, amazed at first, began to roll their eyes
+and draw a knife or two; but Dick ran forward, and said, "Don't
+hurt him: he is wrong HERE."
+
+This representation pacified them more readily than one might have
+expected.  Dick added hastily, "We'll get you out of the hole OUR
+way, and cry quits."
+
+The proposal was favorably received, and the next minute
+Christopher and Ucatella at one wheel, and Dick and the Hottentot
+at the other, with no other help than two pointed iron bars bought
+for their shepherds, had effected what sixteen oxen could not.  To
+do this Dick Dale had bared his arm to the shoulder; it was a
+stalwart limb, like his sister's, and he now held it out all
+swollen and corded, and slapped it with his other hand.  "Look'ee
+here, you chaps," said he: "the worst use a man can put that there
+to is to go cutting out a poor beast's heart for not doing more
+than he can.  You are good fellows, you Kafirs; but I think you
+have sworn never to put your shoulder to a wheel.  But, bless your
+poor silly hearts, a little strength put on at the right place is
+better than a deal at the wrong."
+
+"You hear that, you Kafir chaps?" inquired Ucatella, a little
+arrogantly--for a Kafir.
+
+The Kafirs, who had stood quite silent to imbibe these remarks,
+bowed their heads with all the dignity and politeness of Roman
+senators, Spanish grandees, etc.; and one of the party replied
+gravely, "The words of the white man are always wise."
+
+"And his arm blanked* strong," said Christopher's late opponent,
+from whose mind, however, all resentment had vanished.
+
+
+* I take this very useful expression from a delightful volume by
+Mr. Boyle.
+
+
+Thus spake the Kafirs; yet to this day never hath a man of all
+their tribe put his shoulder to a wheel, so strong is custom in
+South Africa; probably in all Africa; since I remember St. Augustin
+found it stronger than he liked, at Carthage.
+
+Ucatella went to Phoebe, and said, "Missy, my child is good and
+brave."
+
+"Bother you and your child!" said poor Phoebe.  "To think of his
+flying at a giant like that, and you letting of him.  I'm all of a
+tremble from head to foot:" and Phoebe relieved herself with a cry.
+
+"Oh, missy!" said Ucatella.
+
+"There, never mind me.  Do go and look after your child, and keep
+him out of more mischief.  I wish we were safe at Dale's Kloof, I
+do."
+
+Ucatella complied, and went botanizing with Dr. Staines; but that
+gentleman, in the course of his scientific researches into camomile
+flowers and blasted heath, which were all that lovely region
+afforded, suddenly succumbed and stretched out his limbs, and said,
+sleepily, "Good-night--U--cat--" and was off into the land of Nod.
+
+The wagon, which, by the way, had passed the larger but slower
+vehicle, found him fast asleep, and Ucatella standing by him as
+ordered, motionless and grand.
+
+"Oh, dear! what now?" said Phoebe: but being a sensible woman,
+though in the hen and chickens line, she said, "'Tis the fighting
+and the excitement.  'Twill do him more good than harm, I think:"
+and she had him bestowed in the wagon, and never disturbed him
+night nor day.  He slept thirty-six hours at a stretch; and when he
+awoke, she noticed a slight change in his eye.  He looked at her
+with an interest he had not shown before, and said, "Madam, I know
+you."
+
+"Thank God for that," said Phoebe.
+
+"You kept a little shop, in the other world."
+
+Phoebe opened her eyes with some little alarm.
+
+"You understand--the world that is locked up--for the present."
+
+"Well, sir, so I did; and sold you milk and butter.  Don't you
+mind?"
+
+"No--the milk and butter--they are locked up."
+
+The country became wilder, the signs of life miserably sparse;
+about every twenty miles the farmhouse or hut of a degenerate Boer,
+whose children and slaves pigged together, and all ran jostling,
+and the mistress screamed in her shrill Dutch, and the Hottentots
+all chirped together, and confusion reigned for want of method:
+often they went miles, and saw nothing but a hut or two, with a
+nude Hottentot eating flesh, burnt a little, but not cooked, at the
+door; and the kloofs became deeper and more turbid, and Phoebe was
+in an agony about her salt, and Christopher advised her to break it
+in big lumps, and hang it all about the wagon in sacks; and she
+did, and Ucatella said profoundly, "My child is wise;" and they
+began to draw near home, and Phoebe to fidget; and she said to
+Christopher, "Oh, dear!  I hope they are all alive and well: once
+you leave home, you don't know what may have happened by then you
+come back.  One comfort, I've got Sophy: she is very dependable,
+and no beauty, thank my stars."
+
+That night, the last they had to travel, was cloudy, for a wonder,
+and they groped with lanterns.
+
+Ucatella and her child brought up the rear.  Presently there was a
+light pattering behind them.  The swift-eared Ucatella clutched
+Christopher's arm, and turning round, pointed back, with eyeballs
+white and rolling.  There were full a dozen animals following them,
+whose bodies seemed colorless as shadows, but their eyes little
+balls of flaming lime-light.
+
+"GUN!" said Christie, and gave the Kafir's arm a pinch.  She flew
+to the caravan; he walked backwards, facing the foe.  The wagon was
+halted, and Dick ran back with two loaded rifles.  In his haste he
+gave one to Christopher, and repented at leisure; but Christopher
+took it, and handled it like an experienced person, and said, with
+delight, "VOLUNTEER."  But with this the cautious animals had
+vanished like bubbles.  But Dick told Christopher they would be
+sure to come back; he ordered Ucatella into the wagon, and told her
+to warn Phoebe not to be frightened if guns should be fired.  This
+soothing message brought Phoebe's white face out between the
+curtains, and she implored them to get into the wagon, and not
+tempt Providence.
+
+"Not till I have got thee a kaross of jackal's fur."
+
+"I'll never wear it!" said Phoebe violently, to divert him from his
+purpose.
+
+"Time will show," said Dick dryly.  "These varmint are on and off
+like shadows, and as cunning as Old Nick.  We two will walk on
+quite unconcerned like, and as soon as ever the varmint are at our
+heels you give us the office; and we'll pepper their fur--won't we,
+doctor?"
+
+"We--will--pepper--their fur," said Christopher, repeating what to
+him was a lesson in the ancient and venerable English tongue.
+
+So they walked on expectant; and by and by the four-footed shadows
+with large lime-light eyes came stealing on; and Phoebe shrieked,
+and they vanished before the men could draw a bead on them.
+
+"Thou's no use at this work, Pheeb," said Dick.  "Shut thy eyes,
+and let us have Yuke."
+
+"Iss, master: here I be."
+
+"You can bleat like a lamb; for I've heard ye."
+
+"Iss, master.  I bleats beautiful;" and she showed snowy teeth from
+ear to ear.
+
+"Well, then, when the varmint are at our heels, draw in thy woolly
+head, and bleat like a young lamb.  They won't turn from that, I
+know, the vagabonds."
+
+Matters being thus prepared, they sauntered on; but the jackals
+were very wary.  They came like shadows, so departed--a great many
+times: but at last being re-enforced, they lessened the distance,
+and got so close, that Ucatella withdrew her head, and bleated
+faintly inside the wagon.  The men turned, levelling their rifles,
+and found the troop within twenty yards of them.  They wheeled
+directly: but the four barrels poured their flame, four loud
+reports startled the night, and one jackal lay dead as a stone,
+another limped behind the flying crowd, and one lay kicking.  He
+was soon despatched, and both carcasses flung over the patient
+oxen; and good-by jackals for the rest of that journey.
+
+Ucatella, with all a Kafir's love of fire-arms, clapped her hands
+with delight.  "My child shoots loud and strong," said she.
+
+"Ay, ay," replied Phoebe; "they are all alike; wherever there's
+men, look for quarrelling and firing off.  We had only to sit quiet
+in the wagon."
+
+"Ay." said Dick, "the cattle especially--for it is them the varmint
+were after--and let 'em eat my Hottentots."
+
+At this picture of the cattle inside the wagon, and the jackals
+supping on cold Hottentot alongside, Phoebe, who had no more humor
+than a cat, but a heart of gold, shut up, and turned red with
+confusion at her false estimate of the recent transaction in fur.
+
+When the sun rose they found themselves in a tract somewhat less
+arid and inhuman; and, at last, at the rise of a gentle slope, they
+saw, half a mile before them, a large farmhouse partly clad with
+creepers, and a little plot of turf, the fruit of eternal watering;
+item, a flower-bed; item, snow-white palings; item, an air of
+cleanliness and neatness scarcely known to those dirty descendants
+of clean ancestors, the Boers.  At some distance a very large dam
+glittered in the sun, and a troop of snow-white sheep were watering
+at it.
+
+"ENGLAND!" cried Christopher.
+
+"Ay, sir," said Phoebe; "as nigh as man can make it."  But soon she
+began to fret: "Oh, dear! where are they all?  If it was me, I'd be
+at the door looking out.  Ah, there goes Yuke to rouse them up."
+
+"Come, Pheeb, don't you fidget," said Dick kindly.  "Why, the lazy
+lot are scarce out of their beds by this time."
+
+"More shame for 'em.  If they were away from me, and coming home, I
+should be at the door day AND night, I know.  Ah!"
+
+She uttered a scream of delight, for just then, out came Ucatella,
+with little Tommy on her shoulder, and danced along to meet her.
+As she came close, she raised the chubby child high in the air, and
+he crowed; and then she lowered him to his mother, who rushed at
+him, seized, and devoured him with a hundred inarticulate cries of
+joy and love unspeakable.
+
+"NATURE!" said Christopher dogmatically, recognizing an old
+acquaintance, and booking it as one more conquest gained over the
+past.  But there was too much excitement over the cherub to attend
+to him.  So he watched the woman gravely, and began to moralize
+with all his might.  "This," said he, "is what we used to call
+maternal love; and all animals had it, and that is why the noble
+savage went for him.  It was very good of you, Miss Savage," said
+the poor soul sententiously.
+
+"Good of her!" cried Phoebe.  "She is all goodness.  Savage, find
+me a Dutchwoman like her!  I'll give her a good cuddle for it;" and
+she took the Kafir round the neck, and gave her a hearty kiss, and
+made the little boy kiss her too.
+
+At this moment out came a collie dog, hunting Ucatella by scent
+alone, which process landed him headlong in the group; he gave loud
+barks of recognition, fawned on Phoebe and Dick, smelt poor
+Christopher, gave a growl of suspicion, and lurked about squinting,
+dissatisfied, and lowering his tail.
+
+"Thou art wrong, lad, for once," said Dick; "for he's an old
+friend, and a good one."
+
+"After the dog, perhaps some Christian will come to welcome us,"
+said poor Phoebe.
+
+Obedient to the wish, out walked Sophy, the English nurse, a
+scraggy woman, with a very cocked nose and thin, pinched lips, and
+an air of respectability and pertness mingled.  She dropped a short
+courtesy, shot the glance of a basilisk at Ucatella, and said
+stiffly, "You are welcome home, ma'am."  Then she took the little
+boy as one having authority.  Not that Phoebe would have
+surrendered him; but just then Mr. Falcon strolled out, with a
+cigar in his mouth, and Phoebe, with her heart in HER mouth, flew
+to meet him.  There was a rapturous conjugal embrace, followed by
+mutual inquiries; and the wagon drew up at the door.  Then, for the
+first time, Falcon observed Staines, saw at once he was a
+gentleman, and touched his hat to him, to which Christopher
+responded in kind, and remembered he had done so in the locked-up
+past.
+
+Phoebe instantly drew her husband apart by the sleeve.  "Who do you
+think that is?  You'll never guess.  'Tis the great doctor that
+saved Dick's life in England with cutting of his throat.  But, oh,
+my dear, he is not the man he was.  He is afflicted.  Out of his
+mind partly.  Well, we must cure him, and square the account for
+Dick.  I'm a proud woman at finding him, and bringing him here to
+make him all right again, I can tell you.  Oh, I am happy, I am
+happy.  Little did I think to be so happy as I am.  And, my dear, I
+have brought you a whole sackful of newspapers, old and new."
+
+"That is a good girl.  But tell me a little more about him.  What
+is his name?"
+
+"Christie."
+
+"Dr. Christie?"
+
+"No doubt.  He wasn't an apothecary, or a chemist, you may be sure,
+but a high doctor, and the cleverest ever was or ever will be: and
+isn't it sad, love, to see him brought down so?  My heart yearns
+for the poor man: and then his wife--the sweetest, loveliest
+creature you ever--oh!"  Phoebe stopped very short, for she
+remembered something all of a sudden; nor did she ever again give
+Falcon a chance of knowing that the woman, whose presence had so
+disturbed him, was this very Dr. Christie's wife.  "Curious!"
+thought she to herself, "the world to be so large, and yet so
+small:" then aloud, "They are unpacking the wagon; come, dear.  I
+don't think I have forgotten anything of yours.  There's cigars,
+and tobacco, and powder, and shot, and bullets, and everything to
+make you comfortable, as my duty 'tis; and--oh, but I'm a happy
+woman."
+
+Hottentots, big and little, clustered about the wagon.  Treasure
+after treasure was delivered with cries of delight; the dogs found
+out it was a joyful time, and barked about the wheeled treasury;
+and the place did not quiet down till sunset.
+
+A plain but tidy little room was given to Christopher, and he slept
+there like a top.  Next morning his nurse called him up to help her
+water the grass.  She led the way with a tub on her head and two
+buckets in it.  She took him to the dam; when she got there she
+took out the buckets, left one on the bank, and gave the other to
+Christie.  She then went down the steps till the water was up to
+her neck, and bade Christie fill the tub.  He poured eight
+bucketsful in.  Then she came slowly out, straight as an arrow,
+balancing this tub full on her head.  Then she held out her hands
+for the two buckets.  Christie filled them, wondering, and gave
+them to her.  She took them like toy buckets, and glided slowly
+home with this enormous weight, and never spilled a drop.  Indeed,
+the walk was more smooth and noble than ever, if possible.
+
+When she reached the house, she hailed a Hottentot, and it cost the
+man and Christopher a great effort of strength to lower her tub
+between them.
+
+"What a vertebral column you must have!" said Christopher.
+
+"You must not speak bad words, my child," said she.  "Now, you
+water the grass and the flowers."  She gave him a watering-pot, and
+watched him maternally; but did not put a hand to it.  She
+evidently considered this part of the business as child's play, and
+not a fit exercise of her powers.
+
+It was only by drowning that little oasis twice a day that the
+grass was kept green and the flowers alive.
+
+She found him other jobs in course of the day, and indeed he was
+always helping somebody or other, and became quite ruddy, bronzed,
+and plump of cheek, and wore a strange look of happiness, except at
+times when he got apart, and tried to recall the distant past.
+Then he would knit his brow, and looked perplexed and sad.
+
+They were getting quite used to him, and he to them, when one day
+he did not come in to dinner.  Phoebe sent out for him; but they
+could not find him.
+
+The sun set.  Phoebe became greatly alarmed, and even Dick was
+anxious.
+
+They all turned out, with guns and dogs, and hunted for him beneath
+the stars.
+
+Just before daybreak Dick Dale saw a fire sparkle by the side of a
+distant thicket.  He went to it, and there was Ucatella seated,
+calm and grand as antique statue, and Christopher lying by her
+side, with a shawl thrown over him.  As Dale came hurriedly up, she
+put her finger to her lips, and said, "My child sleeps.  Do not
+wake him.  When he sleeps, he hunts the past, as Collie hunts the
+springbok."
+
+"Here's a go," said Dick.  Then, hearing a chuckle, he looked up,
+and was aware of a comical appendage to the scene.  There hung,
+head downwards, from a branch, a Kafir boy, who was, in fact, the
+brother of the stately Ucatella, only went further into antiquity
+for his models of deportment; for, as she imitated the antique
+marbles, he reproduced the habits of that epoch when man roosted,
+and was arboreal.  Wheel somersaults, and, above all, swinging head
+downwards from a branch, were the sweeteners of his existence.
+
+"Oh! YOU are there, are you?" said Dick.
+
+"Iss," said Ucatella.  "Tim good boy.  Tim found my child."
+
+"Well," said Dick, "he has chosen a nice place.  This is the clump
+the last lion came out of, at least they say so.  For my part, I
+never saw an African lion; Falcon says they've all took ship, and
+gone to England.  However, I shall stay here with my rifle till
+daybreak.  'Tis tempting Providence to lie down on the skirt of a
+wood for Lord knows what to jump out on ye unawares."
+
+Tim was sent home for Hottentots, and Christopher was carried home,
+still sleeping, and laid on his own bed.
+
+He slept twenty-four hours more, and, when he was fairly awake, a
+sort of mist seemed to clear away in places, and he remembered
+things at random.  He remembered being at sea on the raft with the
+dead body; that picture was quite vivid to him.  He remembered,
+too, being in the hospital, and meeting Phoebe, and every
+succeeding incident; but as respected the more distant past, he
+could not recall it by any effort of his will.  His mind could only
+go into that remoter past by material stepping-stones; and what
+stepping-stones he had about him here led him back to general
+knowledge, but not to his private history.
+
+In this condition he puzzled them all strangely at the farm; his
+mind was alternately so clear and so obscure.  He would chat with
+Phoebe, and sometimes give her a good practical hint; but the next
+moment, helpless for want of memory, that great faculty without
+which judgment cannot act, having no material.
+
+After some days of this, he had another great sleep.  It brought
+him back the distant past in chapters.  His wedding-day.  His
+wife's face and dress upon that day.  His parting with her: his
+whole voyage out: but, strange to say, it swept away one-half of
+that which he had recovered at his last sleep, and he no longer
+remembered clearly how he came to be at Dale's Kloof.
+
+Thus his mind might be compared to one climbing a slippery place,
+who gains a foot or two, then slips back; but on the whole gains
+more than he loses.
+
+He took a great liking to Falcon.  That gentleman had the art of
+pleasing, and the tact never to offend.
+
+Falcon affected to treat the poor soul's want of memory as a common
+infirmity; pretended he was himself very often troubled in the same
+way, and advised him to read the newspapers.  "My good wife," said
+he, "has brought me a whole file of the Cape Gazette.  I'd read
+them if I was you.  The deuce is in it, if you don't rake up
+something or other."
+
+Christopher thanked him warmly for this: he got the papers to his
+own little room, and had always one or two in his pocket for
+reading.  At first he found a good many hard words that puzzled
+him; and he borrowed a pencil of Phoebe, and noted them down.
+Strange to say, the words that puzzled him were always common
+words, that his unaccountable memory had forgotten: a hard word, he
+was sure to remember that.
+
+One day he had to ask Falcon the meaning of "spendthrift."  Falcon
+told him briefly.  He could have illustrated the word by a striking
+example; but he did not.  He added, in his polite way, "No fellow
+can understand all the words in a newspaper.  Now, here's a word in
+mine--'Anemometer;' who the deuce can understand such a word?"
+
+"Oh, THAT is a common word enough," said poor Christopher.  "It
+means a machine for measuring the force of the wind."
+
+"Oh, indeed," said Falcon; but did not believe a word of it.
+
+One sultry day Christopher had a violent headache, and complained
+to Ucatella.  She told Phoebe, and they bound his brows with a wet
+handkerchief, and advised him to keep in-doors.  He sat down in the
+coolest part of the house, and held his head with his hands, for it
+seemed as if it would explode into two great fragments.
+
+All in a moment the sky was overcast with angry clouds, whirling
+this way and that.  Huge drops of hail pattered down, and the next
+minute came a tremendous flash of lightning, accompanied, rather
+than followed, by a crash of thunder close over their heads.
+
+This was the opening.  Down came a deluge out of clouds that looked
+mountains of pitch, and made the day night but for the fast and
+furious strokes of lightning that fired the air.  The scream of
+wind and awful peals of thunder completed the horrors of the scene.
+
+In the midst of this, by what agency I know no more than science or
+a sheep does, something went off inside Christopher's head, like a
+pistol-shot.  He gave a sort of scream, and dashed out into the
+weather.
+
+Phoebe heard his scream and his flying footstep, and uttered an
+ejaculation of fear.  The whole household was alarmed, and, under
+other circumstances, would have followed him; but you could not see
+ten yards.
+
+A chill sense of impending misfortune settled on the house.  Phoebe
+threw her apron over her head, and rocked in her chair.
+
+Dick himself looked very grave.
+
+Ucatella would have tried to follow him; but Dick forbade her.
+"'Tis no use," said he.  "When it clears, we that be men will go
+for him."
+
+"Pray Heaven you may find him alive!"
+
+"I don't think but what we shall.  There's nowhere he can fall down
+to hurt himself, nor yet drown himself, but our dam; and he has not
+gone that way.  But"--
+
+"But what?"
+
+"If we do find him, we must take him back to Cape Town, before he
+does himself, or some one, a mischief.  Why, Phoebe, don't you see
+the man has gone raving mad?"
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+The electrified man rushed out into the storm, but he scarcely felt
+it in his body; the effect on his mind overpowered hail-stones.
+The lightning seemed to light up the past; the mighty explosions of
+thunder seemed cannon strokes knocking down a wall, and letting in
+his whole life.
+
+Six hours the storm raged, and, before it ended, he had recovered
+nearly his whole past, except his voyage with Captain Dodd--that,
+indeed, he never recovered--and the things that happened to him in
+the hospital before he met Phoebe Falcon and her brother: and as
+soon as he had recovered his lost memory, his body began to shiver
+at the hail and rain.  He tried to find his way home, but missed
+it; not so much, however, but that he recovered it as soon as it
+began to clear, and just as they were coming out to look for him,
+he appeared before them, dripping, shivering, very pale and worn,
+with the handkerchief still about his head.
+
+At sight of him, Dick slipped back to his sister, and said, rather
+roughly, "There now, you may leave off crying: he is come home; and
+to-morrow I take him to Cape Town."
+
+Christopher crept in, a dismal, sinister figure.
+
+"Oh, sir," said Phoebe, "was this a day for a Christian to be out
+in?  How could you go and frighten us so?"
+
+"Forgive me, madam," said Christopher humbly; "I was not myself."
+
+"The best thing you can do now is to go to bed, and let us send you
+up something warm."
+
+"You are very good," said Christopher, and retired with the air of
+one too full of great amazing thoughts to gossip.
+
+He slept thirty hours at a stretch, and then, awaking in the dead
+of night, he saw the past even more clear and vivid; he lighted his
+candle and began to grope in the Cape Gazette.  As to dates, he now
+remembered when he had sailed from England, and also from Madeira.
+Following up this clew, he found in the Gazette a notice that H. M.
+ship Amphitrite had been spoken off the Cape, and had reported the
+melancholy loss of a promising physician and man of science, Dr.
+Staines.
+
+The account said every exertion had been made to save him, but in
+vain.
+
+Staines ground his teeth with rage at this.  "Every exertion! the
+false-hearted curs.  They left me to drown, without one manly
+effort to save me.  Curse them, and curse all the world."
+
+Pursuing his researches rapidly, he found a much longer account of
+a raft picked up by Captain Dodd, with a white man on it and a dead
+body, the white man having on him a considerable sum in money and
+jewels.
+
+Then a new anxiety chilled him.  There was not a word to identify
+him with Dr. Staines.  The idea had never occurred to the editor of
+the Cape Gazette.  Still less would it occur to any one in England.
+At this moment his wife must be mourning for him.  "Poor--poor
+Rosa!"
+
+But perhaps the fatal news might not have reached her.
+
+That hope was dashed away as soon as found.  Why, these were all
+OLD NEWSPAPERS.  That gentlemanly man who had lent them to him had
+said so.
+
+Old! yet they completed the year 1867.
+
+He now tore through them for the dates alone, and soon found they
+went to 1868.  Yet they were old papers.  He had sailed in May,
+1867.
+
+"My God!" he cried, in agony, "I HAVE LOST A YEAR."
+
+This thought crushed him.  By and by he began to carry this awful
+idea into details.  "My Rosa has worn mourning for me, and put it
+off again.  I am dead to her, and to all the world."
+
+He wept long and bitterly.
+
+Those tears cleared his brain still more.  For all that, he was not
+yet himself; at least, I doubt it; his insanity, driven from the
+intellect, fastened one lingering claw into his moral nature, and
+hung on by it.  His soul filled with bitterness and a desire to be
+revenged on mankind for their injustice, and this thought possessed
+him more than reason.
+
+He joined the family at breakfast; and never a word all the time.
+But when he got up to go, he said, in a strange, dogged way, as if
+it went against the grain, "God bless the house that succors the
+afflicted."  Then he went out to brood alone.
+
+"Dick," said Phoebe, "there's a change.  I'll never part with him:
+and look, there's Collie following him, that never could abide
+him."
+
+"Part with him?" said Reginald.  "Of course not.  He is a
+gentleman, and they are not so common in Africa."
+
+Dick, who hated Falcon, ignored this speech entirely, and said,
+"Well, Pheeb, you and Collie are wiser than I am.  Take your own
+way, and don't blame me if anything happens."
+
+Soon Christopher paid the penalty of returning reason.  He suffered
+all the poignant agony a great heart can endure.
+
+So this was his reward for his great act of self-denial in leaving
+his beloved wife.  He had lost his patient; he had lost the income
+from that patient; his wife was worse off than before, and had
+doubtless suffered the anguish of a loving heart bereaved.  His
+mind, which now seemed more vigorous than ever, after its long
+rest, placed her before his very eyes, pale, and worn with grief,
+in her widow's cap.
+
+At the picture, he cried like the rain.  He could give her joy, by
+writing; but he could not prevent her from suffering a whole year
+of misery.
+
+Turning this over in connection with their poverty, his evil genius
+whispered, "By this time she has received the six thousand pounds
+for your death.  SHE would never think of that; but her father has:
+and there is her comfort assured, in spite of the caitiffs who left
+her husband to drown like a dog.
+
+"I know my Rosa," he thought.  "She has swooned--ah, my poor
+darling--she has raved--she has wept," he wept himself at the
+thought--"she has mourned every indiscreet act, as if it was a
+crime.  But she HAS done all this.  Her good and loving but shallow
+nature is now at rest from the agonies of bereavement, and nought
+remains but sad and tender regrets.  She can better endure that
+than poverty: cursed poverty, which has brought her and me to this,
+and is the only real evil in the world, but bodily pain."
+
+Then came a struggle, that lasted a whole week, and knitted his
+brows, and took the color from his cheek; but it ended in the
+triumph of love and hate, over conscience and common sense.  His
+Rosa should not be poor; and he would cheat some of those
+contemptible creatures called men, who had done him nothing but
+injustice, and at last had sacrificed his life like a rat's.
+
+When the struggle was over, and the fatal resolution taken, then he
+became calmer, less solitary, and more sociable.
+
+Phoebe, who was secretly watching him with a woman's eye, observed
+this change in him, and, with benevolent intentions, invited him
+one day to ride round the farm with her.  He consented readily.
+She showed him the fields devoted to maize and wheat, and then the
+sheepfolds.  Tim's sheep were apparently deserted; but he was
+discovered swinging head downwards from the branch of a camel-
+thorn, and seeing him, it did strike one that if he had had a tail
+he would have been swinging by that.  Phoebe called to him: he
+never answered, but set off running to her, and landed himself
+under her nose in a wheel somersault.
+
+"I hope you are watching them, Tim," said his mistress.
+
+"Iss, missy, always washing 'em."
+
+"Why, there's one straying towards the wood now."
+
+"He not go far," said Tim coolly.  The young monkey stole off a
+little way, then fell flat, and uttered the cry of a jackal, with
+startling precision.  Back went the sheep to his comrades post
+haste, and Tim effected a somersault and a chuckle.
+
+"You are a clever boy," said Phoebe.  "So that is how you manage
+them."
+
+"Dat one way, missy," said Tim, not caring to reveal all his
+resources at once.
+
+Then Phoebe rode on, and showed Christopher the ostrich pan.  It
+was a large basin, a form the soil often takes in these parts; and
+in it strutted several full-grown ostriches and their young, bred
+on the premises.  There was a little dam of water, and plenty of
+food about.  They were herded by a Kafir infant of about six,
+black, glossy, fat, and clean, being in the water six times a day.
+
+Sometimes one of the older birds would show an inclination to stray
+out of the pan.  Then the infant rolled after her, and tapped her
+ankles with a wand.  She instantly came back, but without any loss
+of dignity, for she strutted with her nose in the air, affecting
+completely to ignore the inferior little animal, that was
+nevertheless controlling her movements.  "There's a farce," said
+Phoebe.  "But you would not believe the money they cost me, nor the
+money they bring me in.  Grain will not sell here for a quarter its
+value: and we can't afford to send it to Cape Town, twenty days and
+back; but finery, that sells everywhere.  I gather sixty pounds the
+year off those poor fowls' backs--clear profit."
+
+She showed him the granary, and told him there wasn't such another
+in Africa.  This farm had belonged to one of the old Dutch
+settlers, and that breed had been going down this many a year.
+"You see, sir, Dick and I being English, and not downright in want
+of money, we can't bring ourselves to sell grain to the middlemen
+for nothing, so we store it, hoping for better times, that maybe
+will never come.  Now I'll show you how the dam is made."
+
+They inspected the dam all round.  "This is our best friend of
+all," said she.  "Without this the sun would turn us all to
+tinder,--crops, flowers, beasts, and folk."
+
+"Oh, indeed," said Staines.  "Then it is a pity you have not built
+it more scientifically.  I must have a look at this."
+
+"Ay do, sir, and advise us if you see anything wrong.  But hark! it
+is milking time.  Come and see that."  So she led the way to some
+sheds, and there they found several cows being milked, each by a
+little calf and a little Hottentot at the same time, and both
+fighting and jostling each other for the udder.  Now and then a
+young cow, unused to incongruous twins, would kick impatiently at
+both animals and scatter them.
+
+"That is their way," said Phoebe: "they have got it into their
+silly Hottentot heads as kye won't yield their milk if the calf is
+taken away; and it is no use arguing with 'em; they will have their
+own way; but they are very trusty and honest, poor things.  We soon
+found that out.  When we came here first it was in a hired wagon,
+and Hottentot drivers: so when we came to settle I made ready for a
+bit of a wrangle.  But my maid Sophy, that is nurse now, and a
+great despiser of heathens, she says, 'Don't you trouble; them
+nasty ignorant blacks never charges more than their due.'  'I
+forgive 'em,' says I; 'I wish all white folk was as nice.'
+However, I did give them a trifle over, for luck: and then they got
+together and chattered something near the door, hand in hand.  'La,
+Sophy,' says I, 'what is up now?'  Says she, 'They are blessing of
+us.  Things is come to a pretty pass, for ignorant Muslinmen
+heathen to be blessing Christian folk.'  'Well,' says I, 'it won't
+hurt us any.'  'I don't know,' says she.  'I don't want the devil
+prayed over me.'  So she cocked that long nose of hers and followed
+it in a doors."
+
+By this time they were near the house, and Phoebe was obliged to
+come to her postscript, for the sake of which, believe me, she had
+uttered every syllable of this varied chat.  "Well, sir," said she,
+affecting to proceed without any considerable change of topic, "and
+how do you find yourself?  Have you discovered the past?"
+
+"I have, madam.  I remember every leading incident of my life."
+
+"And has it made you happier?" said Phoebe softly.
+
+"No," said Christopher gravely.  "Memory has brought me misery."
+
+"I feared as much; for you have lost your fine color, and your eyes
+are hollow, and lines on your poor brow that were not there before.
+Are you not sorry you have discovered the past?"
+
+"No, Mrs. Falcon.  Give me the sovereign gift of reason, with all
+the torture it can inflict.  I thank God for returning memory, even
+with the misery it brings."
+
+Phoebe was silent a long time: then she said in a low, gentle
+voice, and with the indirectness of a truly feminine nature, "I
+have plenty of writing-paper in the house; and the post goes south
+to-morrow, such as 'tis."
+
+Christopher struggled with his misery, and trembled.
+
+He was silent a long time.  Then he said, "No.  It is her interest
+that I should be dead."
+
+"Well, but, sir--take a thought."
+
+"Not a word more, I implore you.  I am the most miserable man that
+ever breathed."  As he spoke, two bitter tears forced their way.
+
+Phoebe cast a look of pity on him, and said no more; but she shook
+her head.  Her plain common sense revolted.
+
+However, it did not follow he would be in the same mind next week:
+so she was in excellent spirits at her protege's recovery, and very
+proud of her cure, and celebrated the event with a roaring supper,
+including an English ham, and a bottle of port wine; and, ten to
+one, that was English too.
+
+Dick Dale looked a little incredulous, but he did not spare the ham
+any the more for that.
+
+After supper, in a pause of conversation, Staines turned to Dick,
+and said, rather abruptly, "Suppose that dam of yours were to burst
+and empty its contents, would it not be a great misfortune to you?"
+
+"Misfortune, sir!  Don't talk of it.  Why, it would ruin us, beast
+and body."
+
+"Well, it will burst, if it is not looked to."
+
+"Dale's Kloof dam burst! the biggest and strongest for a hundred
+miles round."
+
+"You deceive yourself.  It is not scientifically built, to begin,
+and there is a cause at work that will infallibly burst it, if not
+looked to in time."
+
+"And what is that, sir?"
+
+"The dam is full of crabs."
+
+"So 'tis; but what of them?"
+
+"I detected two of them that had perforated the dyke from the wet
+side to the dry, and water was trickling through the channel they
+had made.  Now, for me to catch two that had come right through,
+there must be a great many at work honeycombing your dyke; those
+channels, once made, will be enlarged by the permeating water, and
+a mere cupful of water forced into a dyke by the great pressure of
+a heavy column has an expansive power quite out of proportion to
+the quantity forced in.  Colossal dykes have been burst in this way
+with disastrous effects.  Indeed, it is only a question of time,
+and I would not guarantee your dyke twelve hours.  It is full, too,
+with the heavy rains."
+
+"Here's a go!" said Dick, turning pale.  "Well, if it is to burst,
+it must."
+
+"Why so?  You can make it safe in a few hours.  You have got a
+clumsy contrivance for letting off the excess of water: let us go
+and relieve the dam at once of two feet of water.  That will make
+it safe for a day or two, and to-morrow we will puddle it afresh,
+and demolish those busy excavators."
+
+He spoke with such authority and earnestness, that they all got up
+from table; a horn was blown that soon brought the Hottentots, and
+they all proceeded to the dam.  With infinite difficulty they
+opened the waste sluice, lowered the water two feet, and so
+drenched the arid soil that in forty-eight hours flowers unknown
+sprang up.
+
+Next morning, under the doctor's orders, all the black men and boys
+were diving with lumps of stiff clay and puddling the endangered
+wall with a thick wall of it.  This took all the people the whole
+day.
+
+Next day the clay wall was carried two feet higher, and then the
+doctor made them work on the other side and buttress the dyke with
+supports so enormous as seemed extravagant to Dick and Phoebe; but,
+after all, it was as well to be on the safe side, they thought: and
+soon they were sure of it, for the whole work was hardly finished
+when the news came in that the dyke of a neighboring Boer, ten
+miles off, had exploded like a cannon, and emptied itself in five
+minutes, drowning the farm-yard and floating the furniture, but
+leaving them all to perish of drought; and indeed the Boer's cart
+came every day, with empty barrels, for some time, to beg water of
+the Dales.  Ucatella pondered all this, and said her doctor child
+was wise.
+
+This brief excitement over, Staines went back to his own gloomy
+thoughts, and they scarcely saw him, except at supper-time.
+
+One evening he surprised them all by asking if they would add to
+all their kindness by lending him a horse, and a spade, and a few
+pounds to go to the diamond fields.
+
+Dick Dale looked at his sister.  She said, "We had rather lend them
+you to go home with, sir, if you must leave us; but, dear heart, I
+was half in hopes--Dick and I were talking it over only yesterday--
+that you would go partners like with us; ever since you saved the
+dam."
+
+"I have too little to offer for that, Mrs. Falcon; and, besides, I
+am driven into a corner.  I must make money quickly, or not at all:
+the diamonds are only three hundred miles off: for heaven's sake,
+let me try my luck."
+
+They tried to dissuade him, and told him not one in fifty did any
+good at it.
+
+"Ay, but I shall," said he.  "Great bad luck is followed by great
+good luck, and I feel my turn is come.  Not that I rely on luck.
+An accident directed my attention to the diamond a few years ago,
+and I read a number of prime works upon the subject that told me of
+things not known to the miners.  It is clear, from the Cape
+journals, that they are looking for diamonds in the river only.
+Now, I am sure that is a mistake.  Diamonds, like gold, have their
+matrix, and it is comparatively few gems that get washed into the
+river.  I am confident that I shall find the volcanic matrix, and
+perhaps make my fortune in a week or two."
+
+When the dialogue took this turn, Reginald Falcon's cheek began to
+flush, and his eyes to glitter.
+
+Christopher continued: "You who have befriended me so will not turn
+back, I am sure, when I have such a chance before me; and as for
+the small sum of money I shall require, I will repay you some day,
+even if"--
+
+"La, sir, don't talk so.  If you put it that way, why, the best
+horse we have, and fifty pounds in good English gold, they are at
+your service to-morrow."
+
+"And pick and spade to boot," said Dick, "and a double rifle, for
+there are lions, and Lord knows what, between this and the Vaal
+river."
+
+"God bless you both!" said Christopher.  "I will start to-morrow."
+
+"And I'll go with you," said Reginald Falcon.
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+"Heaven forbid!" said Phoebe.  "No, my dear, no more diamonds for
+us.  We never had but one, and it brought us trouble."
+
+"Nonsense, Phoebe," replied Falcon; "it was not the diamond's
+fault.  You know I have often wanted to go there, but you objected.
+You said you were afraid some evil would befall me.  But now
+Solomon himself is going to the mines, let us have no more of that
+nonsense.  We will take our rifles and our pistols."
+
+"There--there--rifles and pistols," cried Phoebe; "that shows."
+
+"And we will be there in a week; stay a month, and home with our
+pockets full of diamonds."
+
+"And find me dead of a broken heart."
+
+"Broken fiddlestick!  We have been parted longer than that, and yet
+here we are all right."
+
+"Ay, but the pitcher that goes too often to the well gets broke at
+last.  No, Reginald, now I have tasted three years' happiness and
+peace of mind, I cannot go through what I used in England.  Oh,
+doctor! have you the heart to part man and wife, that have never
+been a day from each other all these years?"
+
+"Mrs. Falcon, I would not do it for all the diamonds in Brazil.
+No, Mr. Falcon, I need hardly say how charmed I should be to have
+your company: but that is a pleasure I shall certainly deny myself,
+after what your good wife has said.  I owe her too much to cause
+her a single pang."
+
+"Doctor," said the charming Reginald, "you are a gentleman and side
+with the lady.  Quite right.  It adds to my esteem, if possible.
+Make your mind easy; I will go alone.  I am not a farmer.  I am
+dead sick of this monotonous life; and, since I am compelled to
+speak my mind, a little ashamed, as a gentleman, of living on my
+wife and her brother, and doing nothing for myself.  So I shall go
+to the Vaal river, and see a little life; here there's nothing but
+vegetation--and not much of that.  Not a word more, Phoebe, if you
+please.  I am a good, easy, affectionate husband, but I am a man,
+and not a child to be tied to a woman's apron-strings, however much
+I may love and respect her."
+
+Dick put in his word: "Since you are so independent, you can WALK
+to the Vaal river.  I can't spare a couple of horses."
+
+This hit the sybarite hard, and he cast a bitter glance of hatred
+at his brother-in-law, and fell into a moody silence.
+
+But when he got Phoebe to himself, he descanted on her selfishness,
+Dick's rudeness, and his own wounded dignity, till he made her
+quite anxious he should have his own way.  She came to Staines,
+with red eyes, and said, "Tell me, doctor, will there be any women
+up there--to take care of you?"
+
+"Not a petticoat in the place, I believe.  It is a very rough life;
+and how Falcon could think of leaving you and sweet little Tommy,
+and this life of health, and peace, and comfort--"
+
+"Yet YOU do leave us, sir."
+
+"I am the most unfortunate man upon the earth; Falcon is one of the
+happiest.  Would I leave wife and child to go there?  Ah me! I am
+dead to those I love.  This is my one chance of seeing my darling
+again for many a long year perhaps.  Oh, I must not speak of HER--
+it unmans me.  My good, kind friend, I'll tell you what to do.
+When we are all at supper, let a horse be saddled and left in the
+yard for me.  I'll bid you all good-night, and I'll put fifty miles
+between us before morning.  Even then HE need not be told I am
+gone; he will not follow me."
+
+"You are very good, sir," said Phoebe; "but no.  Too much has been
+said.  I can't have him humbled by my brother, nor any one.  He
+says I am selfish.  Perhaps I am; though I never was called so.  I
+can't bear he should think me selfish.  He WILL go, and so let us
+have no ill blood about it.  Since he is to go, of course I'd much
+liever he should go with you than by himself.  You are sure there
+are no women up there--to take care of--you--both?  You must be
+purse-bearer, sir, and look to every penny.  He is too generous
+when he has got money to spend."
+
+In short, Reginald had played so upon her heart, that she now urged
+the joint expedition, only she asked a delay of a day or two to
+equip them, and steel herself to the separation.
+
+Staines did not share those vague fears that overpowered the wife,
+whose bitter experiences were unknown to him; but he felt
+uncomfortable at her condition--for now she was often in tears--and
+he said all he could to comfort her; and he also advised her how to
+profit by these terrible diamonds, in her way.  He pointed out to
+her that her farm lay right in the road to the diamonds, yet the
+traffic all shunned her, passing twenty miles to the westward.
+Said he, "You should profit by all your resources.  You have wood,
+a great rarity in Africa; order a portable forge; run up a building
+where miners can sleep, another where they can feed; the grain you
+have so wisely refused to sell, grind it into flour."
+
+"Dear heart! why, there's neither wind nor water to turn a mill."
+
+"But there are oxen.  I'll show you how to make an ox-mill.  Send
+your Cape cart into Cape Town for iron lathes, for coffee and tea,
+and groceries by the hundredweight.  The moment you are ready--for
+success depends on the order in which we act--then prepare great
+boards, and plant them twenty miles south.  Write or paint on them,
+very large, 'The nearest way to the Diamond Mines, through Dale's
+Kloof, where is excellent accommodation for man and beast.  Tea,
+coffee, home-made bread, fresh butter, etc., etc.'  Do this, and
+you will soon leave off decrying diamonds.  This is the sure way to
+coin them.  I myself take the doubtful way; but I can't help it.  I
+am a dead man, and swift good fortune will give me life.  You can
+afford to go the slower road and the surer."
+
+Then he drew her a model of an ox-mill, and of a miner's dormitory,
+the partitions six feet six apart, so that these very partitions
+formed the bedstead, the bed-sacking being hooked to the uprights.
+He drew his model for twenty bedrooms.
+
+The portable forge and the ox-mill pleased Dick Dale most, but the
+partitioned bedsteads charmed Phoebe.  She said," Oh, doctor, how
+can one man's head hold so many things?  If there's a man on earth
+I can trust my husband with, 'tis you.  But if things go cross up
+there, promise me you will come back at once and cast in your lot
+with us.  We have got money and stock, and you have got headpiece;
+we might do very well together.  Indeed, indeed we might.  Promise
+me.  Oh, do, please, promise me!"
+
+"I promise you."
+
+And on this understanding, Staines and Falcon were equipped with
+rifles, pickaxe, shovels, waterproofs, and full saddle-bags, and
+started, with many shakings of the hand, and many tears from
+Phoebe, for the diamond washings.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+Phoebe's tears at parting made Staines feel uncomfortable, and he
+said so.
+
+"Pooh, pooh!" said Falcon, "crying for nothing does a woman good."
+
+Christopher stared at him.
+
+Falcon's spirits rose as they proceeded.  He was like a boy let
+loose from school.  His fluency and charm of manner served,
+however, to cheer a singularly dreary journey.
+
+The travellers soon entered on a vast and forbidding region, that
+wearied the eye; at their feet a dull, rusty carpet of dried grass
+and wild camomile, with pale-red sand peeping through the burnt and
+scanty herbage.  On the low mounds, that looked like heaps of
+sifted ashes, struggled now and then into sickliness a ragged,
+twisted shrub.  There were flowers too, but so sparse, that they
+sparkled vainly in the colorless waste, which stretched to the
+horizon.  The farmhouses were twenty miles apart, and nine out of
+ten of them were new ones built by the Boers since they degenerated
+into white savages: mere huts, with domed kitchens behind them.  In
+the dwelling-house the whole family pigged together, with raw flesh
+drying on the rafters, stinking skins in a corner, parasitical
+vermin of all sorts blackening the floor, and particularly a small,
+biting, and odoriferous tortoise, compared with which the insect a
+London washerwoman brings into your house in her basket, is a
+stroke with a feather--and all this without the excuse of penury;
+for many of these were shepherd kings, sheared four thousand
+fleeces a year, and owned a hundred horses and horned cattle.
+
+These Boers are compelled, by unwritten law, to receive travellers
+and water their cattle; but our travellers, after one or two
+experiences, ceased to trouble them; for, added to the dirt, the
+men were sullen, the women moody, silent, brainless; the whole
+reception churlish.  Staines detected in them an uneasy
+consciousness that they had descended, in more ways than one, from
+a civilized race; and the superior bearing of a European seemed to
+remind them what they had been, and might have been, and were not;
+so, after an attempt or two, our adventurers avoided the Boers, and
+tried the Kafirs.  They found the savages socially superior, though
+their moral character does not rank high.
+
+The Kafir cabins they entered were caves, lighted only by the door,
+but deliciously cool, and quite clean; the floors of puddled clay
+or ants' nests, and very clean.  On entering these cool retreats,
+the flies that had tormented them shirked the cool grot, and buzzed
+off to the nearest farm to batten on congenial foulness.  On the
+fat, round, glossy babies, not a speck of dirt, whereas the little
+Boers were cakes thereof.  The Kafir would meet them at the door,
+his clean black face all smiles and welcome.  The women and grown
+girls would fling a spotless handkerchief over their shoulders in a
+moment, and display their snowy teeth, in unaffected joy at sight
+of an Englishman.
+
+At one of these huts, one evening, they met with something St. Paul
+ranks above cleanliness even, viz., Christianity.  A neighboring
+lion had just eaten a Hottentot faute de mieux; and these good
+Kafirs wanted the Europeans not to go on at night and be eaten for
+dessert.  But they could not speak a word of English, and
+pantomimic expression exists in theory alone.  In vain the women
+held our travellers by the coat-tails, and pointed to a distant
+wood.  In vain Kafir pere went on all-fours and growled sore.  But
+at last a savage youth ran to the kitchen--for they never cook in
+the house--and came back with a brand, and sketched, on the wall of
+the hut, a lion with a mane down to the ground, and a saucer eye,
+not loving.  The creature's paw rested on a hat and coat and
+another fragment or two of a European.  The rest was fore-
+shortened, or else eaten.
+
+The picture completed, the females looked, approved, and raised a
+dismal howl.
+
+"A lion on the road," said Christopher gravely.
+
+Then the undaunted Falcon seized the charcoal, and drew an
+Englishman in a theatrical attitude, left foot well forward, firing
+a gun, and a lion rolling head over heels like a buck rabbit, and
+blood squirting out of a hole in his perforated carcass.
+
+The savages saw, and exulted.  They were so off their guard as to
+confound representation with fact; they danced round the white
+warrior, and launched him to victory.
+
+"Aha!" said Falcon, "I took the shine out of their lion, didn't I?"
+
+"You did: and once there was a sculptor who showed a lion his
+marble group, a man trampling a lion, extracting his tongue, and so
+on; but report says it DID NOT CONVINCE THE LION."
+
+"Why, no; a lion is not an ass.  But, for your comfort, there ARE
+no lions in this part of the world.  They are myths.  There were
+lions in Africa.  But now they are all at the Zoo.  And I wish I
+was there too."
+
+"In what character--of a discontented animal--with every blessing?
+They would not take you in; too common in England.  Hallo! this is
+something new.  What lots of bushes!  We should not have much
+chance with a lion here."
+
+"There ARE no lions: it is not the Zoo," said Falcon; but he
+spurred on faster.
+
+The country, however, did not change its feature; bushes and little
+acacias prevailed, and presently dark forms began to glide across
+at intervals.
+
+The travellers held their breath, and pushed on; but at last their
+horses flagged; so they thought it best to stop and light a fire
+and stand upon their guard.
+
+They did so, and Falcon sat with his rifle cocked, while Staines
+boiled coffee, and they drank it, and after two hours' halt, pushed
+on; and at last the bushes got more scattered, and they were on the
+dreary plain again.  Falcon drew the rein, with a sigh of relief,
+and they walked their horses side by side.
+
+"Well, what has become of the lions?" said Falcon jauntily.  He
+turned in his saddle, and saw a large animal stealing behind them
+with its belly to the very earth, and eyes hot coals; he uttered an
+eldrich screech, fired both barrels, with no more aim than a baby,
+and spurred away, yelling like a demon.  The animal fled another
+way, in equal trepidation at those tongues of flame and loud
+reports, and Christopher's horse reared and plunged, and deposited
+him promptly on the sward; but he held the bridle, mounted again,
+and rode after his companion.  A stern chase is a long chase; and
+for that or some other reason he could never catch him again till
+sunrise.  Being caught, he ignored the lioness, with cool hauteur:
+he said he had ridden on to find comfortable quarters: and craved
+thanks.
+
+This was literally the only incident worth recording that the
+companions met with in three hundred miles.
+
+On the sixth day out, towards afternoon, they found by inquiring
+they were near the diamond washings, and the short route was
+pointed out by an exceptionally civil Boer.
+
+But Christopher's eye had lighted upon a sort of chain of knolls,
+or little round hills, devoid of vegetation, and he told Falcon he
+would like to inspect these, before going farther.
+
+"Oh," said the Boer, "they are not on my farm, thank goodness! they
+are on my cousin Bulteel's;" and he pointed to a large white house
+about four miles distant, and quite off the road.  Nevertheless,
+Staines insisted on going to it.  But first they made up to one of
+these knolls, and examined it; it was about thirty feet high, and
+not a vestige of herbage on it; the surface was composed of sand
+and of lumps of gray limestone very hard, diversified with lots of
+quartz, mica, and other old formations.
+
+Staines got to the top of it with some difficulty, and examined the
+surface all over.  He came down again, and said, "All these little
+hills mark hot volcanic action--why, they are like boiling earth-
+bubbles--which is the very thing, under certain conditions, to turn
+carbonate of lime into diamonds.  Now here is plenty of limestone
+unnaturally hard; and being in a diamond country, I can fancy no
+place more likely to be the matrix than these earth-bubbles.  Let
+us tether the horses, and use our shovels."
+
+They did so; and found one or two common crystals, and some jasper,
+and a piece of chalcedony all in little bubbles, but no diamond.
+Falcon said it was wasting time.
+
+Just then the proprietor, a gigantic, pasty colonist, came up, with
+his pipe, and stood calmly looking on.  Staines came down, and made
+a sort of apology.  Bulteel smiled quietly, and asked what harm
+they could do him, raking that rubbish.  "Rake it all avay, mine
+vriends," said he: "ve shall thank you moch."
+
+He then invited them languidly to his house.  They went with him,
+and as he volunteered no more remarks, they questioned him, and
+learned his father had been a Hollander, and so had his vrow's.
+This accounted for the size and comparative cleanliness of his
+place.  It was stuccoed with the lime of the country outside, and
+was four times as large as the miserable farmhouses of the
+degenerate Boers.  For all this, the street door opened on the
+principal room, and that room was kitchen and parlor, only very
+large and wholesome.  "But, Lord," as poor dear Pepys used to blurt
+out--"to see how some folk understand cleanliness!"  The floor was
+made of powdered ants' nests, and smeared with fresh cow-dung every
+day.  Yet these people were the cleanest Boers in the colony.
+
+The vrow met them, with a snow-white collar and cuffs of Hamburgh
+linen, and the brats had pasty faces round as pumpkins, but shone
+with soap.  The vrow was also pasty-faced, but gentle, and welcomed
+them with a smile, languid, but unequivocal.
+
+The Hottentots took their horses, as a matter of course.  Their
+guns were put in a corner.  A clean cloth was spread, and they saw
+they were to sup and sleep there, though the words of invitation
+were never spoken.
+
+At supper, sun-dried flesh, cabbage, and a savory dish the
+travellers returned to with gusto.  Staines asked what it was: the
+vrow told him--locusts.  They had stripped her garden, and filled
+her very rooms, and fallen in heaps under her walls; so she had
+pressed them, by the million, into cakes, had salted them lightly,
+and stored them, and they were excellent, baked.
+
+After supper, the accomplished Reginald, observing a wire guitar,
+tuned it with some difficulty, and so twanged it, and sang ditties
+to it, that the flabby giant's pasty face wore a look of dreamy
+content over his everlasting pipe; and in the morning, after a
+silent breakfast, he said, "Mine vriends, stay here a year or two,
+and rake in mine rubbish.  Ven you are tired, here are springbok
+and antelopes, and you can shoot mit your rifles, and ve vil cook
+them, and you shall zing us zongs of Vaderland."
+
+They thanked him heartily, and said they would stay a few days, at
+all events.
+
+The placid Boer went a-farming; and the pair shouldered their pick
+and shovel, and worked on their heap all day, and found a number of
+pretty stones, but no diamond.
+
+"Come," said Falcon, "we must go to the river;" and Staines
+acquiesced.  "I bow to experience," said he.
+
+At the threshold they found two of the little Bulteels, playing
+with pieces of quartz, crystal, etc., on the door-stone.  One of
+these stones caught Staines's eye directly.  It sparkled in a
+different way from the others: he examined it: it was the size of a
+white haricot bean, and one side of it polished by friction.  He
+looked at it, and looked, and saw that it refracted the light.  He
+felt convinced it was a diamond.
+
+"Give the boy a penny for it," said the ingenious Falcon, on
+receiving the information.
+
+"Oh!" said Staines.  "Take advantage of a child?"
+
+He borrowed it of the boy, and laid it on the table, after supper.
+"Sir," said he, "this is what we were raking in your kopjes for,
+and could not find it.  It belongs to little Hans.  Will you sell
+it us?  We are not experts, but we think it may be a diamond.  We
+will risk ten pounds on it."
+
+"Ten pounds!" said the farmer.  "Nay, we rob not travellers, mine
+vriend."
+
+"But if it is a diamond, it is worth a hundred.  See how it gains
+fire in the dusk."
+
+In short, they forced the ten pounds on him, and next day went to
+work on another kopje.
+
+But the simple farmer's conscience smote him.  It was a slack time;
+so he sent four Hotteatots, with shovels, to help these friendly
+maniacs.  These worked away gayly, and the white men set up a
+sorting table, and sorted the stuff, and hammered the nodules, and
+at last found a little stone as big as a pea that refracted the
+light.  Staines showed this to the Hottentots, and their quick eyes
+discovered two more that day, only smaller.
+
+Next day, nothing but a splinter or two.
+
+Then Staines determined to dig deeper, contrary to the general
+impression.  He gave his reason: "Diamonds don't fall from the sky.
+They work up from the ground; and clearly the heat must be greater
+farther down."
+
+Acting on this, they tried the next strata, but found it entirely
+barren.  After that, however, they came to a fresh layer of
+carbonate, and here, Falcon hammering a large lump of conglomerate,
+out leaped, all of a sudden, a diamond big as a nut, that ran along
+the earth, gleaming like a star.  It had polished angles and
+natural facets, and even a novice, with an eye in his head, could
+see it was a diamond of the purest water.  Staines and Falcon
+shouted with delight, and made the blacks a present on the spot.
+
+They showed the prize, at night, and begged the farmer to take to
+digging.  There was ten times more money beneath his soil than on
+it.
+
+Not he.  He was a farmer: did not believe in diamonds.  Two days
+afterwards, another great find.  Seven small diamonds.
+
+Next day, a stone as large as a cob-nut, and with strange and
+beautiful streaks.  They carried it home to dinner, and set it on
+the table, and told the family it was worth a thousand pounds.
+Bulteel scarcely looked at it; but the vrow trembled and all the
+young folk glowered at it.
+
+In the middle of dinner, it exploded like a cracker, and went
+literally into diamond-dust.
+
+"Dere goes von tousand pounds," said Bulteel, without moving a
+muscle.
+
+Falcon swore.  But Staines showed fortitude.  "It was laminated,"
+said he, "and exposure to the air was fatal."
+
+Owing to the invaluable assistance of the Hottentots, they had in
+less than a month collected four large stones of pure water, and a
+wineglassful of small stones, when, one fine day, going to work
+calmly after breakfast, they found some tents pitched, and at least
+a score of dirty diggers, bearded like the pard, at work on the
+ground.  Staines sent Falcon back to tell Bulteel, and suggest that
+he should at once order them off, or, better still, make terms with
+them.  The phlegmatic Boer did neither.
+
+In twenty-four hours it was too late.  The place was rushed.  In
+other words, diggers swarmed to the spot, with no idea of law but
+digger's law.
+
+A thousand tents rose like mushrooms; and poor Bulteel stood
+smoking, and staring amazed, at his own door, and saw a veritable
+procession of wagons, Cape carts, and powdered travellers file past
+him to take possession of his hillocks.  Him, the proprietor, they
+simply ignored; they had a committee who were to deal with all
+obstructions, landlords and tenants included.  They themselves
+measured out Bulteel's farm into thirty-foot claims, and went to
+work with shovel and pick.  They held Staines's claim sacred--that
+was diggers' law; but they confined it strictly to thirty feet
+square.
+
+Had the friends resisted, their brains would have been knocked out.
+However, they gained this, that dealers poured in, and the market
+not being yet glutted, the price was good.  Staines sold a few of
+the small stones for two hundred pounds.  He showed one of the
+larger stones.  The dealer's eye glittered, but he offered only
+three hundred pounds, and this was so wide of the ascending scale,
+on which a stone of that importance is priced, that Staines
+reserved it for sale at Cape Town.
+
+Nevertheless, he afterwards doubted whether he had not better have
+taken it; for the multitude of diggers turned out such a prodigious
+number of diamonds at Bulteel's pan, that a sort of panic fell on
+the market.
+
+These dry diggings were a revelation to the world.  Men began to
+think the diamond perhaps was a commoner stone than any one had
+dreamed it to be.
+
+As to the discovery of stones, Staines and Falcon lost nothing by
+being confined to a thirty-foot claim.  Compelled to dig deeper,
+they got into a rich strata, where they found garnets by the pint,
+and some small diamonds, and at last, one lucky day, their largest
+diamond.  It weighed thirty-seven carats, and was a rich yellow.
+Now, when a diamond is clouded or off color, it is terribly
+depreciated; but a diamond with a positive color is called a fancy
+stone, and ranks with the purest stones.
+
+"I wish I had this in Cape Town," said Staines.
+
+"Why, I'll take it to Cape Town, if you like," said the changeable
+Falcon.
+
+"You will?" said Christopher, surprised.
+
+"Why not?  I'm not much of a digger.  I can serve our interest
+better by selling.  I could get a thousand pounds for this at Cape
+Town."
+
+"We will talk of that quietly," said Christopher.
+
+Now, the fact is, Falcon, as a digger, was not worth a pin.  He
+could not sort.  His eyes would not bear the blinding glare of a
+tropical sun upon lime and dazzling bits of mica, quartz, crystal,
+white topaz, etc., in the midst of which the true glint of the
+royal stone had to be caught in a moment.  He could not sort, and
+he had not the heart to dig.  The only way to make him earn his
+half was to turn him into the travelling and selling partner.
+
+Christopher was too generous to tell him this; but he acted on it,
+and said he thought his was an excellent proposal; indeed, he had
+better take all the diamonds they had got to Dale's Kloof first,
+and show them to his wife, for her consolation: "And perhaps," said
+he, "in a matter of this importance, she will go to Cape Town with
+you, and try the market there."
+
+"All right," said Falcon.
+
+He sat and brooded over the matter a long time, and said, "Why make
+two bites of a cherry?  They will only give us half the value at
+Cape Town; why not go by the steamer to England, before the London
+market is glutted, and all the world finds out that diamonds are as
+common as dirt?"
+
+"Go to England!  What! without your wife?  I'll never be a party to
+that.  Me part man and wife!  If you knew my own story"--
+
+"Why, who wants you?" said Reginald.  "You don't understand.
+Phoebe is dying to visit England again; but she has got no excuse.
+If you like to give her one, she will be much obliged to you, I can
+tell you."
+
+"Oh, that is a very different matter.  If Mrs. Falcon can leave her
+farm--"
+
+"Oh, that brute of a brother of hers is a very honest fellow, for
+that matter.  She can trust the farm to him.  Besides, it is only a
+month's voyage by the mail steamer."
+
+This suggestion of Falcon's set Christopher's heart bounding, and
+his eyes glistening.  But he restrained himself, and said, "This
+takes me by surprise; let me smoke a pipe over it."
+
+He not only did that, but he lay awake all night.
+
+The fact is that for some time past, Christopher had felt sharp
+twinges of conscience, and deep misgivings as to the course he had
+pursued in leaving his wife a single day in the dark.  Complete
+convalescence had cleared his moral sentiments, and perhaps, after
+all, the discovery of the diamonds had co-operated; since now the
+insurance money was no longer necessary to keep his wife from
+starving.
+
+"Ah!" said he; "faith is a great quality; and how I have lacked
+it!"
+
+To do him justice, he knew his wife's excitable nature, and was not
+without fears of some disaster, should the news be communicated to
+her unskilfully.
+
+But this proposal of Falcon's made the way clearer.  Mrs. Falcon,
+though not a lady, had all a lady's delicacy, and all a woman's
+tact and tenderness.  He knew no one in the world more fit to be
+trusted with the delicate task of breaking to his Rosa that the
+grave, for once, was baffled, and her husband lived.  He now became
+quite anxious for Falcon's departure, and ardently hoped that
+worthy had not deceived himself as to Mrs. Falcon's desire to visit
+England.
+
+In short, it was settled that Falcon should start for Dale's Kloof,
+taking with him the diamonds, believed to be worth altogether three
+thousand pounds at Cape Town, and nearly as much again in England,
+and a long letter to Mrs. Falcon, in which Staines revealed his
+true story, told her where to find his wife, or hear of her, viz.,
+at Kent Villa, Gravesend, and sketched an outline of instructions
+as to the way, and cunning degrees, by which the joyful news should
+be broken to her.  With this he sent a long letter to be given to
+Rosa herself, but not till she should know all: and in this letter
+he enclosed the ruby ring she had given him.  That ring had never
+left his finger, by sea or land, in sickness or health.
+
+The letter to Rosa was sealed.  The two letters made quite a
+packet; for, in the letter to his beloved Rosa, he told her
+everything that had befallen him.  It was a romance, and a picture
+of love; a letter to lift a loving woman to heaven, and almost
+reconcile her to all her bereaved heart had suffered.
+
+This letter, written with many tears from the heart that had so
+suffered, and was now softened by good fortune and bounding with
+joy, Staines entrusted to Falcon, together with the other diamonds,
+and with many warm shakings of the hand, started him on his way.
+
+"But mind, Falcon," said Christopher, "I shall expect an answer
+from Mrs. Falcon in twenty days at farthest.  I do not feel so sure
+as you do that she wants to go to England; and, if not, I must
+write to Uncle Philip.  Give me your solemn promise, old fellow, an
+answer in twenty days--if you have to send a Kafir on horseback."
+
+"I give you my honor," said Falcon superbly.
+
+"Send it to me at Bulteel's Farm."
+
+"All right.  'Dr. Christie, Bulteel's Farm.'"
+
+"Well--no.  Why should I conceal my real name any longer from such
+friends as you and your wife?  Christie is short for Christopher--
+that IS my Christian name; but my surname is Staines.  Write to
+'Dr. Staines.'"
+
+"Dr. Staines!"
+
+"Yes.  Did you ever hear of me?"
+
+Falcon wore a strange look.  "I almost think I have.  Down at
+Gravesend, or somewhere."
+
+"That is curious.  Yes, I married my Rosa there; poor thing!  God
+bless her; God comfort her.  She thinks me dead."
+
+His voice trembled, he grasped Falcon's cold hand till the latter
+winced again, and so they parted, and Falcon rode off muttering,
+"Dr. Staines! so then YOU are Dr. Staines."
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+Rosa Staines had youth on her side, and it is an old saying that
+youth will not be denied.  Youth struggled with death for her, and
+won the battle.
+
+But she came out of that terrible fight weak as a child.  The sweet
+pale face, the widow's cap, the suit of deep black--it was long ere
+these came down from the sickroom.  And when they did, oh, the dead
+blank!  The weary, listless life!  The days spent in sighs, and
+tears, and desolation.  Solitude! solitude!  Her husband was gone,
+and a strange woman played the mother to her child before her eyes.
+
+Uncle Philip was devotedly kind to her, and so was her father; but
+they could do nothing for her.
+
+Months rolled on, and skinned the wound over.  Months could not
+heal.  Her boy became dearer and dearer, and it was from him came
+the first real drops of comfort, however feeble.
+
+She used to read her lost one's diary every day, and worship, in
+deep sorrow, the mind she had scarcely respected until it was too
+late.  She searched in his diary to find his will, and often she
+mourned that he had written on it so few things she could obey.
+Her desire to obey the dead, whom, living, she had often disobeyed,
+was really simple and touching.  She would mourn to her father that
+there were so few commands to her in his diary.  "But," said she,
+"memory brings me back his will in many things, and to obey is now
+the only sad comfort I have."
+
+It was in this spirit she now forced herself to keep accounts.  No
+fear of her wearing stays now; no powder; no trimmings; no waste.
+
+After the usual delay, her father told her she should instruct a
+solicitor to apply to the insurance company for the six thousand
+pounds.  She refused with a burst of agony.  "The price of his
+life," she screamed.  "Never!  I'd live on bread and water sooner
+than touch that vile money."
+
+Her father remonstrated gently.  But she was immovable.  "No.  It
+would be like consenting to his death."
+
+Then Uncle Philip was sent for.
+
+He set her child on her knee; and gave her a pen.  "Come," said he,
+sternly, "be a woman, and do your duty to little Christie."
+
+She kissed the boy, cried, and did her duty meekly.  But when the
+money was brought her, she flew to Uncle Philip, and said, "There!
+there!" and threw it all before him, and cried as if her heart
+would break.  He waited patiently, and asked her what he was to do
+with all that: invest it?
+
+"Yes, yes; for my little Christie."
+
+"And pay you the interest quarterly."
+
+"Oh, no, no.  Dribble us out a little as we want it.  That is the
+way to be truly kind to a simpleton.  I hate that word."
+
+"And suppose I run off with it?  Such confiding geese as you
+corrupt a man."
+
+"I shall never corrupt you.  Crusty people are the soul of honor."
+
+"Crusty people!" cried Philip, affecting amazement.  "What are
+they?"
+
+She bit her lip and colored a little; but answered adroitly, "They
+are people that pretend not to have good hearts, but have the best
+in the world; far better ones than your smooth ones: that's crusty
+people."
+
+"Very well," said Philip; "and I'll tell you what simpletons are.
+They are little transparent-looking creatures that look shallow,
+but are as deep as Old Nick, and make you love them in spite of
+your judgment.  They are the most artful of their sex; for they
+always achieve its great object, to be loved--the very thing that
+clever women sometimes fail in."
+
+"Well, and if we are not to be loved, why live at all--such useless
+things as I am?" said Rosa simply.
+
+So Philip took charge of her money, and agreed to help her save
+money for her little Christopher.  Poverty should never destroy
+him, as it had his father.
+
+As months rolled on, she crept out into public a little; but always
+on foot, and a very little way from home.
+
+Youth and sober life gradually restored her strength, but not her
+color, nor her buoyancy.
+
+Yet she was perhaps more beautiful than ever; for a holy sorrow
+chastened and sublimed her features: it was now a sweet, angelic,
+pensive beauty, that interested every feeling person at a glance.
+
+She would visit no one; but a twelvemonth after her bereavement,
+she received a few chosen visitors.
+
+One day a young gentleman called, and sent up his card, "Lord
+Tadcaster," with a note from Lady Cicely Treherne, full of kindly
+feeling.  Uncle Philip had reconciled her to Lady Cicely; but they
+had never met.
+
+Mrs. Staines was much agitated at the very name of Lord Tadcaster;
+but she would not have missed seeing him for the world.
+
+She received him with her beautiful eyes wide open, to drink in
+every lineament of one who had seen the last of her Christopher.
+
+Tadcaster was wonderfully improved: he had grown six inches out at
+sea, and though still short, was not diminutive; he was a small
+Apollo, a model of symmetry, and had an engaging, girlish beauty,
+redeemed from downright effeminacy by a golden mustache like silk,
+and a tanned cheek that became him wonderfully.
+
+He seemed dazzled at first by Mrs. Staines, but murmured that Lady
+Cicely had told him to come, or he would not have ventured.
+
+"Who can be so welcome to me as you?" said she, and the tears came
+thick in her eyes directly.
+
+Soon, he hardly knew how, he found himself talking of Staines, and
+telling her what a favorite he was, and all the clever things he
+had done.
+
+The tears streamed down her cheeks, but she begged him to go on
+telling her, and omit nothing.
+
+He complied heartily, and was even so moved by the telling of his
+friend's virtues, and her tears and sobs, that he mingled his tears
+with hers.  She rewarded him by giving him her hand as she turned
+away her tearful face to indulge the fresh burst of grief his
+sympathy evoked.
+
+When he was leaving, she said, in her simple way, "Bless you"--
+"Come again," she said: "you have done a poor widow good."
+
+Lord Tadcaster was so interested and charmed, he would gladly have
+come back next day to see her; but he restrained that extravagance,
+and waited a week.
+
+Then he visited her again.  He had observed the villa was not rich
+in flowers, and he took her down a magnificent bouquet, cut from
+his father's hot-houses.  At sight of him, or at sight of it, or
+both, the color rose for once in her pale cheek, and her pensive
+face wore a sweet expression of satisfaction.  She took his
+flowers, and thanked him for them, and for coming to see her.
+
+Soon they got on the only topic she cared for, and, in the course
+of this second conversation, he took her into his confidence, and
+told her he owed everything to Dr. Staines.  "I was on the wrong
+road altogether, and he put me right.  To tell you the truth, I
+used to disobey him now and then, while he was alive, and I was
+always the worse for it; now he is gone, I never disobey him.  I
+have written down a lot of wise, kind things he said to me, and I
+never go against any one of them.  I call it my book of oracles.
+Dear me, I might have brought it with me."
+
+"Oh, yes! why didn't you?" rather reproachfully.
+
+"I will bring it next time."
+
+"Pray do."
+
+Then she looked at him with her lovely swimming eyes, and said
+tenderly, "And so here is another that disobeyed him living, but
+obeys him dead.  What will you think when I tell you that I, his
+wife, who now worship him when it is too late, often thwarted and
+vexed him when he was alive?"
+
+"No, no.  He told me you were an angel, and I believe it."
+
+"An angel! a good-for-nothing, foolish woman, who sees everything
+too late."
+
+"Nobody else should say so before me," said the little gentleman
+grandly.  "I shall take HIS word before yours on this one subject.
+If ever there was an angel, you are one; and oh, what would I give
+if I could but say or do anything in the world to comfort you!"
+
+"You can do nothing for ME, dear, but come and see me often, and
+talk to me as you do--on the one sad theme my broken heart has room
+for."
+
+This invitation delighted Lord Tadcaster, and the sweet word
+"dear," from her lovely lips, entered his heart, and ran through
+all his veins like some rapturous but dangerous elixir.  He did not
+say to himself, "She is a widow with a child, feels old with grief,
+and looks on me as a boy who has been kind to her."  Such prudence
+and wariness were hardly to be expected from his age.  He had
+admired her at first sight, very nearly loved her at their first
+interview, and now this sweet word opened a heavenly vista.  The
+generous heart that beat in his small frame burned to console her
+with a life-long devotion and all the sweet offices of love.
+
+He ordered his yacht to Gravesend--for he had become a sailor--and
+then he called on Mrs. Staines, and told her, with a sort of
+sheepish cunning, that now, as his yacht HAPPENED to be at
+Gravesend, he could come and see her very often.  He watched her
+timidly, to see how she would take that proposition.
+
+She said, with the utmost simplicity, "I'm very glad of it."
+
+Then he produced his oracles; and she devoured them.  Such precepts
+to Tadcaster as she could apply to her own case she instantly noted
+in her memory, and they became her law from that moment.
+
+Then, in her simplicity, she said, "And I will show you some
+things, in his own handwriting, that may be good for you; but I
+can't show you the whole book: some of it is sacred from every eye
+but his wife's.  His wife's?  Ah me! his widow's."
+
+Then she pointed out passages in the diary that she thought might
+be for his good; and he nestled to her side, and followed her white
+finger with loving eyes, and was in an elysium--which she would
+certainly have put a stop to at that time, had she divined it.  But
+all wisdom does not come at once to an unguarded woman.  Rosa
+Staines was wiser about her husband than she had been, but she had
+plenty to learn.
+
+Lord Tadcaster anchored off Gravesend, and visited Mrs. Staines
+nearly every day.  She received him with a pleasure that was not at
+all lively, but quite undisguised.  He could not doubt his welcome;
+for once, when he came, she said to the servant, "Not at home," a
+plain proof she did not wish his visit to be cut short by any one
+else.
+
+And so these visits and devoted attentions of every kind went on
+unobserved by Lord Tadcaster's friends, because Rosa would never go
+out, even with him; but at last Mr. Lusignan saw plainly how this
+would end, unless he interfered.
+
+Well, he did not interfere; on the contrary, he was careful to
+avoid putting his daughter on her guard: he said to himself, "Lord
+Tadcaster does her good.  I'm afraid she would not marry him, if he
+was to ask her now; but in time she might.  She likes him a great
+deal better than any one else."
+
+As for Philip, he was abroad for his own health, somewhat impaired
+by his long and faithful attendance on Rosa.
+
+So now Lord Tadcaster was in constant attendance on Rosa.  She was
+languid, but gentle and kind; and, as mourners, like invalids, are
+apt to be egotistical, she saw nothing but that he was a comfort to
+her in her affliction.
+
+While matters were so, the Earl of Miltshire, who had long been
+sinking, died, and Tadcaster succeeded to his honors and estates.
+
+Rosa heard of it, and, thinking it was a great bereavement, wrote
+him one of those exquisite letters of condolence a lady alone can
+write.  He took it to Lady Cicely, and showed it her.  She highly
+approved it.
+
+He said, "The only thing--it makes me ashamed, I do not feel my
+poor father's death more; but you know it has been so long
+expected."  Then he was silent a long time; and then he asked her
+if such a woman as that would not make him happy, if he could win
+her.
+
+It was on her ladyship's tongue to say, "She did not make her first
+happy;" but she forbore, and said coldly, that was maw than she
+could say.
+
+Tadcaster seemed disappointed by that, and by and by Cicely took
+herself to task.  She asked herself what were Tadcaster's chances
+in the lottery of wives.  The heavy army of scheming mothers, and
+the light cavalry of artful daughters, rose before her cousinly and
+disinterested eyes, and she asked herself what chance poor little
+Tadcaster would have of catching a true love, with a hundred female
+artists manoeuvring, wheeling, ambuscading, and charging upon his
+wealth and titles.  She returned to the subject of her own accord,
+and told him she saw but one objection to such a match: the lady
+had a son by a man of rare merit and misfortune.  Could he, at his
+age, undertake to be a father to that son?  "Othahwise," said Lady
+Cicely, "mark my words, you will quall over that poor child; and
+you will have two to quall with, because I shall be on her side."
+
+Tadcaster declared to her that child should be quite the opposite
+of a bone of contention.  "I have thought of that," said he, "and I
+mean to be so kind to that boy, I shall MAKE her love me for that."
+
+On these terms Lady Cicely gave her consent.
+
+Then he asked her should he write, or ask her in person.
+
+Lady Cicely reflected.  "If you write, I think she will say no."
+
+"But if I go?"
+
+"Then, it will depend on how you do it.  Rosa Staines is a true
+mourner.  Whatever you may think, I don't believe the idea of a
+second union has ever entered her head.  But then she is very
+unselfish: and she likes you better than any one else, I dare say.
+I don't think your title or your money will weigh with her now.
+But, if you show her your happiness depends on it, she may,
+perhaps, cwy and sob at the very idea of it, and then, after all,
+say, 'Well, why not--if I can make the poor soul happy?'"
+
+So, on this advice, Tadcaster went down to Gravesend, and Lady
+Cicely felt a certain self-satisfaction; for, her well-meant
+interference having lost Rosa one husband, she was pleased to think
+she had done something to give her another.
+
+Lord Tadcaster came to Rosa Staines; he found her seated with her
+head upon her white hand, thinking sadly of the past.
+
+At sight of him in deep mourning, she started, and said, "Oh!"
+
+Then she said tenderly, "We are of one color now," and gave him her
+hand.
+
+He sat down beside her, not knowing how to begin.
+
+"I am not Tadcaster now.  I am Earl of Miltshire."
+
+"Ah, yes; I forgot," said she indifferently.
+
+"This is my first visit to any one in that character."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+"It is an awfully important visit to me.  I could not feel myself
+independent, and able to secure your comfort and little Christie's,
+without coming to the lady, the only lady I ever saw, that--oh,
+Mrs. Staines--Rosa--who could see you, as I have done--mingle his
+tears with yours, as I have done, and not love you, and long to
+offer you his love?"
+
+"Love! to me, a broken-hearted woman, with nothing to live for but
+his memory and his child."
+
+She looked at him with a sort of scared amazement.
+
+"His child shall be mine.  His memory is almost as dear to me as to
+you."
+
+"Nonsense, child, nonsense!" said she, almost sternly.
+
+"Was he not my best friend?  Should I have the health I enjoy, or
+even be alive, but for him?  Oh, Mrs. Staines--Rosa, you will not
+live all your life unmarried; and who will love you as I do?  You
+are my first and only love.  My happiness depends on you."
+
+"Your happiness depend on me!  Heaven forbid--a woman of my age,
+that feels so old, old, old."
+
+"You are not old; you are young, and sad, and beautiful, and my
+happiness depends on you."  She began to tremble a little.  Then he
+kneeled at her knees, and implored her, and his hot tears fell upon
+the hand she put out to stop him, while she turned her head away,
+and the tears began to run.
+
+Oh! never can the cold dissecting pen tell what rushes over the
+heart that has loved and lost, when another true love first kneels
+and implores for love, or pity, or anything the bereaved can give.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+When Falcon went, luck seemed to desert their claim: day after day
+went by without a find; and the discoveries on every side made this
+the more mortifying.
+
+By this time the diggers at Bulteel's pan were as miscellaneous as
+the audience at Drury Lane Theatre, only mixed more closely; the
+gallery folk and the stalls worked cheek by jowl.  Here a gentleman
+with an affected lisp, and close by an honest fellow, who could not
+deliver a sentence without an oath, or some still more horrible
+expletive that meant nothing at all in reality, but served to make
+respectable flesh creep: interspersed with these, Hottentots,
+Kafirs, and wild blue blacks gayly clad in an ostrich feather, a
+scarlet ribbon, and a Tower musket sold them by some good Christian
+for a modern rifle.
+
+On one side of Staines were two swells, who lay on their backs and
+talked opera half the day, but seldom condescended to work without
+finding a diamond of some sort.
+
+After a week's deplorable luck, his Kafir boy struck work on
+account of a sore in his leg; the sore was due to a very common
+cause, the burning sand had got into a scratch, and festered.
+Staines, out of humanity, examined the sore; and proceeding to
+clean it, before bandaging, out popped a diamond worth forty
+pounds, even in the depreciated market.  Staines quietly pocketed
+it, and bandaged the leg.  This made him suspect his blacks had
+been cheating him on a large scale, and he borrowed Hans Bulteel to
+watch them, giving him a third, with which Master Hans was mightily
+pleased.  But they could only find small diamonds, and by this time
+prodigious slices of luck were reported on every side.  Kafirs and
+Boers that would not dig, but traversed large tracts of ground when
+the sun was shining, stumbled over diamonds.  One Boer pointed to a
+wagon and eight oxen, and said that one lucky glance on the sand
+had given him that lot: but day after day Staines returned home,
+covered with dust, and almost blinded, yet with little or nothing
+to show for it.
+
+One evening, complaining of his change of luck, Bulteel quietly
+proposed to him migration.  "I am going," said he resignedly: "and
+you can come with me."
+
+"You leave your farm, sir?  Why, they pay you ten shillings a
+claim, and that must make a large return; the pan is fifteen
+acres."
+
+"Yes, mine vriend," said the poor Hollander, "they pay; but deir
+money it cost too dear.  Vere is mine peace?  Dis farm is six
+tousand acres.  If de cursed diamonds was farther off, den it vas
+vell.  But dey are too near.  Once I could smoke in peace, and
+zleep.  Now diamonds is come, and zleep and peace is fled.  Dere is
+four tousand tents, and to each tent a dawg; dat dawg bark at four
+tousand other dawgs all night, and dey bark at him and at each
+oder.  Den de masters of de dawgs dey get angry, and fire four
+tousand pistole at de four tousand dawgs, and make my bed shake wid
+the trembling of mine vrow.  My vamily is with diamonds infected.
+Dey vill not vork.  Dey takes long valks, and always looks on de
+ground.  Mine childre shall be hump-backed, round-shouldered,
+looking down for diamonds.  Dey shall forget Gott.  He is on high:
+dere eyes are always on de earth.  De diggers found a diamond in
+mine plaster of mine wall of mine house.  Dat plaster vas
+limestone; it come from dose kopjes de good Gott made in His anger
+against man for his vickedness.  I zay so.  Dey not believe me.
+Dey tink dem abominable stones grow in mine house, and break out in
+mine plaster like de measle: dey vaunt to dig in mine wall, in mine
+garden, in mine floor.  One day dey shall dig in mine body.  I vill
+go.  Better I love peace dan money.  Here is English company make
+me offer for mine varm.  Dey forgive de diamonds."
+
+"You have not accepted it?" cried Staines in alarm.
+
+"No, but I vill.  I have said I shall tink of it.  Dat is my vay.
+So I say yah."
+
+"An English company?  They will cheat you without mercy.  No, they
+shall not, though, for I will have a hand in the bargain."
+
+He set to work directly, added up the value of the claims, at ten
+shillings per month, and amazed the poor Hollander by his statement
+of the value of those fifteen acres, capitalized.
+
+And to close this part of the subject, the obnoxious diamonds
+obtained him three times as much as his father had given for the
+whole six thousand acres.
+
+The company got a great bargain, but Bulteel received what for him
+was a large capital, and settling far to the south, this lineal
+descendant of le philosophe sans savoir carried his godliness, his
+cleanliness, and his love of peace, out of the turmoil, and was
+happier than ever, since now he could compare his placid existence
+with one year of noise and clamor.
+
+But long before this, events more pertinent to my story had
+occurred.
+
+One day, a Hottentot came into Bulteel's farm and went out among
+the diggers, till be found Staines.  The Hottentot was one employed
+at Dale's Kloof, and knew him.  He brought Staines a letter.
+
+Staines opened the letter, and another letter fell out; it was
+directed to "Reginald Falcon, Esq."
+
+"Why," thought Staines, "what a time this letter must have been on
+the road!  So much for private messengers."
+
+The letter ran thus:--
+
+
+DEAR SIR,--This leaves us all well at Dale's Kloof, as I hope it
+shall find you and my dear husband at the diggings.  Sir, I am
+happy to say I have good news for you.  When you got well by God's
+mercy, I wrote to the doctor at the hospital and told him so.  I
+wrote unbeknown to you, because I had promised him.  Well, sir, he
+has written back to say you have two hundred pounds in money, and a
+great many valuable things, such as gold and jewels.  They are all
+at the old bank in Cape Town, and the cashier has seen you, and
+will deliver them on demand.  So that is the first of my good news,
+because it is good news to you.  But, dear sir, I think you will be
+pleased to hear that Dick and I are thriving wonderfully, thanks to
+your good advice.  The wooden house it is built, and a great oven.
+But, sir, the traffic came almost before we were ready, and the
+miners that call here, coming and going, every day, you would not
+believe, likewise wagons and carts.  It is all bustle, morn till
+night, and dear Reginald will never be dull here now; I hope you
+will be so kind as tell him so, for I do long to see you both home
+again.
+
+Sir, we are making our fortunes.  The grain we could not sell at a
+fair price, we sell as bread, and higher than in England ever so
+much.  Tea and coffee the same; and the poor things praise us, too,
+for being so moderate.  So, sir, Dick bids me say that we owe this
+to you, and if so be you are minded to share, why nothing would
+please us better.  Head-piece is always worth money in these parts;
+and if it hurts your pride to be our partner without money, why you
+can throw in what you have at the Cape, though we don't ask that.
+And, besides, we are offered diamonds a bargain every day, but are
+afraid to deal, for want of experience; but if you were in it with
+us, you must know them well by this time, and we might turn many a
+good pound that way.  Dear sir, I hope you will not be offended,
+but I think this is the only way we have, Dick and I, to show our
+respect and good-will.
+
+Dear sir, digging is hard work, and not fit for you and Reginald,
+that are gentlemen, amongst a lot of rough fellows, that their talk
+makes my hair stand on end, though I dare say they mean no harm.
+
+Your bedroom is always ready, sir.  I never will let it to any of
+them, hoping now to see you every day.  You that know everything,
+can guess how I long to see you both home.  My very good fortune
+seems not to taste like good fortune, without those I love and
+esteem to share it.  I shall count how many days this letter will
+take to reach you, and then I shall pray for your safety harder
+than ever, till the blessed hour comes when I see my husband, and
+my good friend, never to part again, I hope, in this world.
+
+I am sir, your dutiful servant and friend,
+
+PHOEBE DALE.
+
+P.S.  There is regular travelling to and from Cape Town, and a post
+now to Pniel, but I thought it surest to send by one that knows
+you.
+
+
+Staines read this letter with great satisfaction.  He remembered
+his two hundred pounds, but his gold and jewels puzzled him.  Still
+it was good news, and pleased him not a little.  Phoebe's good
+fortune gratified him too, and her offer of a partnership,
+especially in the purchase of diamonds from returning diggers.  He
+saw a large fortune to be made; and wearied and disgusted with
+recent ill-luck, blear-eyed and almost blinded with sorting in the
+blazing sun, he resolved to go at once to Dale's Kloof.  Should
+Mrs. Falcon be gone to England with the diamonds, he would stay
+there, and Rosa should come out to him, or he would go and fetch
+her.
+
+He went home, and washed himself, and told Bulteel he had had good
+news, and should leave the diggings at once.  He gave him up the
+claim, and told him to sell it by auction.  It was worth two
+hundred pounds still.  The good people sympathized with him, and he
+started within an hour.  He left his pickaxe and shovel, and took
+only his double rifle, an admirable one, some ammunition, including
+conical bullets and projectile shells given him by Falcon, a bag
+full of carbuncles and garnets he had collected for Ucatella, a few
+small diamonds, and one hundred pounds,--all that remained to him,
+since he had been paying wages and other things for months, and had
+given Falcon twenty for his journey.
+
+He rode away and soon put twenty miles between him and the
+diggings.
+
+He came to a little store that bought diamonds and sold groceries
+and tobacco.  He haltered his horse to a hook, and went in.  He
+offered a small diamond for sale.  The master was out, and the
+assistant said there was a glut of these small stones, he did not
+care to give money for it.
+
+"Well, give me three dozen cigars."
+
+While they were chaffering, in walked a Hottentot, and said, "Will
+you buy this?" and laid a clear, glittering stone on the counter,
+as large as a walnut.
+
+"Yes," said the young man.  "How much?"
+
+"Two hundred pounds."
+
+"Two hundred pounds!  Let us look at it;" he examined it, and said
+he thought it was a diamond, but these large stones were so
+deceitful, he dared not give two hundred pounds.  "Come again in an
+hour," said he, "then the master will be in."
+
+"No," said the Hottentot quietly, and walked out.
+
+Staines, who had been literally perspiring at the sight of this
+stone, mounted his horse and followed the man.  When he came up to
+him, he asked leave to examine the gem.  The Hottentot quietly
+assented.
+
+Staines looked at it all over.  It had a rough side and a polished
+side, and the latter was of amazing softness and lustre.  It made
+him tremble.  He said, "Look here, I have only one hundred pounds
+in my pocket."
+
+The Hottentot shook his head.
+
+"But if you will go back with me to Bulteel's farm, I'll borrow the
+other hundred."
+
+The Hottentot declined, and told him he could get four hundred
+pounds for it by going back to Pniel.  "But," said he, "my face is
+turned so; and when Squat turn his face so, he going home.  Not can
+bear go the other way then," and he held out his hand for the
+diamond.
+
+Staines gave it him, and was in despair at seeing such a prize so
+near, yet leaving him.
+
+He made one more effort.  "Well, but," said he, "how far are you
+going this way?"
+
+"Ten days."
+
+"Why, so am I.  Come with me to Dale's Kloof, and I will give the
+other hundred.  See, I am in earnest, for here is one hundred, at
+all events."
+
+Staines made this proposal, trembling with excitement.  To his
+surprise and joy, the Hottentot assented, though with an air of
+indifference; and on these terms they became fellow-travellers, and
+Staines gave him a cigar.  They went on side by side, and halted
+for the night forty miles from Bulteel's farm.
+
+They slept in a Boer's out-house, and the vrow was civil, and lent
+Staines a jackal's skin.  In the morning he bought it for a
+diamond, a carbuncle, and a score of garnets; for a horrible
+thought had occurred to him, if they stopped at any place where
+miners were, somebody might buy the great diamond over his head.
+This fear, and others, grew on him, and with all his philosophy he
+went on thorns, and was the slave of the diamond.
+
+He resolved to keep his Hottentot all to himself if possible.  He
+shot a springbok that crossed the road, and they roasted a portion
+of the animal, and the Hottentot carried some on with him.
+
+Seeing he admired the rifle, Staines offered it him for the odd
+hundred pounds; but though Squat's eye glittered a moment, he
+declined.
+
+Finding that they met too many diggers and carts, Staines asked his
+Hottentot was there no nearer way to reach that star, pointing to
+one he knew was just over Dale's Kloof.
+
+Oh, yes, he knew a nearer way, where there were trees, and shade,
+and grass, and many beasts to shoot.
+
+"Let us take that way," said Staines.
+
+The Hottentot, ductile as wax, except about the price of the
+diamond, assented calmly; and next day they diverged, and got into
+forest scenery, and their eyes were soothed with green glades here
+and there, wherever the clumps of trees sheltered the grass from
+the panting sun.  Animals abounded, and were tame.  Staines, an
+excellent marksman, shot the Hottentot his supper without any
+trouble.
+
+Sleeping in the wood, with not a creature near but Squat, a sombre
+thought struck Staines.  Suppose this Hottentot should assassinate
+him for his money, who would ever know?  The thought was horrible,
+and he awoke with a start ten times that night.  The Hottentot
+slept like a stone, and never feared for his own life and precious
+booty.  Staines was compelled to own to himself he had less faith
+in human goodness than the savage had.  He said to himself, "He is
+my superior.  He is the master of this dreadful diamond, and I am
+its slave."
+
+Next day they went on till noon, and then they halted at a really
+delightful spot; a silver kloof ran along a bottom, and there was a
+little clump of three acacia-trees that lowered their long tresses,
+pining for the stream, and sometimes getting a cool grateful kiss
+from it when the water was high.
+
+They halted the horse, bathed in the stream, and lay luxurious
+under the acacias.  All was delicious languor and enjoyment of
+life.
+
+The Hottentot made a fire, and burnt the remains of a little sort
+of kangaroo Staines had shot him the evening before; but it did not
+suffice his maw, and looking about him, he saw three elands
+leisurely feeding about three hundred yards off.  They were
+cropping the rich herbage close to the shelter of a wood.
+
+The Hottentot suggested that this was an excellent opportunity.  He
+would borrow Staines's rifle, steal into the wood, crawl on his
+belly close up to them, and send a bullet through one.
+
+Staines did not relish the proposal.  He had seen the savage's eye
+repeatedly gloat on the rifle, and was not without hopes he might
+even yet relent, and give the great diamond for the hundred pounds
+and this rifle; and he was so demoralized by the diamond, and
+filled with suspicion, that he feared the savage, if he once had
+the rifle in his possession, might levant, and be seen no more, in
+which case he, Staines, still the slave of the diamond, might hang
+himself on the nearest tree, and so secure his Rosa the insurance
+money, at all events.  In short, he had really diamond on the
+brain.
+
+He hem'd and haw'd a little at Squat's proposal, and then got out
+of it by saying, "That is not necessary.  I can shoot it from
+here."
+
+"It is too far," objected Blacky.
+
+"Too far!  This is an Enfield rifle.  I could kill the poor beast
+at three times that distance."
+
+Blacky was amazed.  "An Enfield rifle," said he, in the soft
+musical murmur of his tribe, which is the one charm of the poor
+Hottentot; "and shoot three times SO far."
+
+"Yes," said Christopher.  Then, seeing his companion's hesitation,
+he conceived a hope.  "If I kill that eland from here, will you
+give me the diamond for my horse and the wonderful rifle?--no
+Hottentot has such a rifle."
+
+Squat became cold directly.  "The price of the diamond is two
+hundred pounds."
+
+Staines groaned with disappointment, and thought to himself with
+rage, "Anybody but me would club the rifle, give the obstinate
+black brute a stunner, and take the diamond--God forgive me!"
+
+Says the Hottentot cunningly, "I can't think so far as white man.
+Let me see the eland dead, and then I shall know how far the rifle
+shoot."
+
+"Very well," said Staines.  But he felt sure the savage only wanted
+his meal, and would never part with the diamond, except for the odd
+money.
+
+However, he loaded his left barrel with one of the explosive
+projectiles Falcon had given him; it was a little fulminating shell
+with a steel point.  It was with this barrel he had shot the murcat
+overnight, and he had found he shot better with this barrel than
+the other.  He loaded his left barrel then, saw the powder well up,
+capped it and cut away a strip of the acacia with his knife to see
+clear, and lying down in volunteer fashion, elbow on ground, drew
+his bead steadily on an eland who presented him her broadside, her
+back being turned to the wood.  The sun shone on her soft coat, and
+never was a fairer mark, the sportsman's deadly eye being in the
+cool shade, the animal in the sun.
+
+He aimed long and steadily.  But just as he was about to pull the
+trigger, Mind interposed, and he lowered the deadly weapon.  "Poor
+creature!" he said, "I am going to take her life--for what? for a
+single meal.  She is as big as a pony; and I am to lay her carcass
+on the plain, that we may eat two pounds of it.  This is how the
+weasel kills the rabbit; sucks an ounce of blood for his food, and
+wastes the rest.  So the demoralized sheep-dog tears out the poor
+creature's kidneys, and wastes the rest.  Man, armed by science
+with such powers of slaying, should be less egotistical than
+weasels and perverted sheep-dogs.  I will not kill her.  I will not
+lay that beautiful body of hers low, and glaze those tender, loving
+eyes that never gleamed with hate or rage at man, and fix those
+innocent jaws that never bit the life out of anything, not even of
+the grass she feeds on, and does it more good than harm.  Feed on,
+poor innocent.  And you be blanked; you and your diamond, that I
+begin to wish I had never seen; for it would corrupt an angel."
+
+Squat understood one word in ten, but he managed to reply.  "This
+is nonsense-talk," said he, gravely.  "The life is no bigger in
+that than in the murcat you shot last shoot."
+
+"No more it is," said Staines.  "I am a fool.  It is come to this,
+then; Kafirs teach us theology, and Hottentots morality.  I bow to
+my intellectual superior.  I'll shoot the eland."  He raised his
+rifle again.
+
+"No, no, no, no, no, no," murmured the Hottentot, in a sweet voice
+scarcely audible, yet so keen in its entreaty, that Staines turned
+hastily round to look at him.  His face was ashy, his teeth
+chattering, his limbs shaking.  Before Staines could ask him what
+was the matter, he pointed through an aperture of the acacias into
+the wood hard by the elands.  Staines looked, and saw what seemed
+to him like a very long dog, or some such animal, crawling from
+tree to tree.  He did not at all share the terror of his companion,
+nor understand it.  But a terrible explanation followed.  This
+creature, having got to the skirt of the wood, expanded, by some
+strange magic, to an incredible size, and sprang into the open,
+with a growl, a mighty lion; he seemed to ricochet from the ground,
+so immense was his second bound, that carried him to the eland, and
+he struck her one blow on the head with his terrible paw, and
+felled her as if with a thunderbolt: down went her body, with all
+the legs doubled, and her poor head turned over, and the nose
+kissed the ground.  The lion stood motionless.  Presently the
+eland, who was not dead, but stunned, began to recover and struggle
+feebly up.  Then the lion sprang on her with a roar, and rolled her
+over, and with two tremendous bites and a shake, tore her entrails
+out and laid her dying.  He sat composedly down, and contemplated
+her last convulsions, without touching her again.
+
+At this roar, though not loud, the horse, though he had never heard
+or seen a lion, trembled, and pulled at his halter.
+
+Blacky crept into the water; and Staines was struck with such an
+awe as he had never felt.  Nevertheless, the king of beasts being
+at a distance, and occupied, and Staines a brave man, and out of
+sight, he kept his ground and watched, and by those means saw a
+sight never to be forgotten.  The lion rose up, and stood in the
+sun incredibly beautiful as well as terrible.  He was not the mangy
+hue of the caged lion, but a skin tawny, golden, glossy as a race-
+horse, and of exquisite tint that shone like pure gold in the sun;
+his eye a lustrous jewel of richest hue, and his mane sublime.  He
+looked towards the wood, and uttered a full roar.  This was so
+tremendous that the horse shook all over as if in an ague, and
+began to lather.  Staines recoiled, and his flesh crept, and the
+Hottentot went under water, and did not emerge for ever so long.
+
+After a pause, the lion roared again, and all the beasts and birds
+of prey seemed to know the meaning of that terrible roar.  Till
+then the place had been a solitude, but now it began to fill in the
+strangest way, as if the lord of the forest could call all his
+subjects together with a trumpet roar: first came two lion cubs, to
+whom, in fact, the roar had been addressed.  The lion rubbed
+himself several times against the eland, but did not eat a morsel,
+and the cubs went in and feasted on the prey.  The lion politely
+and paternally drew back, and watched the young people enjoying
+themselves.
+
+Meantime approached, on tiptoe, jackals and hyenas, but dared not
+come too near.  Slate-colored vultures settled at a little
+distance, but not a soul dared interfere with the cubs; they saw
+the lion was acting sentinel, and they knew better than come near.
+
+After a time, papa feared for the digestion of those brats, or else
+his own mouth watered; for he came up, knocked them head over heels
+with his velvet paw, and they took the gentle hint, and ran into
+the wood double quick.
+
+Then the lion began tearing away at the eland, and bolting huge
+morsels greedily.  This made the rabble's mouth water.  The hyenas,
+and jackals, and vultures formed a circle ludicrous to behold, and
+that circle kept narrowing as the lion tore away at his prey.  They
+increased in number, and at last hunger overcame prudence; the rear
+rank shoved on the front, as amongst men, and a general attack
+seemed imminent.
+
+Then the lion looked up at these invaders, uttered a reproachful
+growl, and went at them, patting them right and left, and knocking
+them over.  He never touched a vulture, nor indeed did he kill an
+animal.  He was a lion, and only killed to eat; yet he soon cleared
+the place, because he knocked over a few hyenas and jackals, and
+the rest, being active, tumbled over the vultures before they could
+spread their heavy wings.  After this warning, they made a
+respectful circle again, through which, in due course, the gorged
+lion stalked into the wood.
+
+A savage's sentiments change quickly, and the Hottentot, fearing
+little from a full lion, was now giggling at Staines's side.
+Staines asked him which he thought was the lord of all creatures, a
+man or a lion.
+
+"A lion," said Blacky, amazed at such a shallow question.
+
+Staines now got up, and proposed to continue their journey.  But
+Blacky was for waiting till the lion was gone to sleep after his
+meal.
+
+While they discussed the question, the lion burst out of the wood
+within hearing of their voices, as his pricked-up ears showed, and
+made straight for them at a distance of scarcely thirty yards.
+
+Now, the chances are, the lion knew nothing about them, and only
+came to drink at the kloof, after his meal, and perhaps lie under
+the acacias: but who can think calmly, when his first lion bursts
+out on him a few paces off?  Staines shouldered his rifle, took a
+hasty, flurried aim, and sent a bullet at him.
+
+If he had missed him, perhaps the report might have turned the
+lion; but he wounded him, and not mortally.  Instantly the enraged
+beast uttered a terrific roar, and came at him with his mane
+distended with rage, his eyes glaring, his mouth open, and his
+whole body dilated with fury.
+
+At that terrible moment, Staines recovered his wits enough to see
+that what little chance he had was to fire into the destroyer, not
+at him.  He kneeled, and levelled at the centre of the lion's
+chest, and not till he was within five yards did he fire.  Through
+the smoke he saw the lion in the air above him, and rolled
+shrieking into the stream and crawled like a worm under the bank,
+by one motion, and there lay trembling.  A few seconds of sick
+stupor passed: all was silent.  Had the lion lost him?  Was it
+possible he might yet escape?
+
+All was silent.
+
+He listened, in agony, for the sniffing of the lion, puzzling him
+out by scent.
+
+No: all was silent.
+
+Staines looked round, and saw a woolly head, and two saucer eyes
+and open nostrils close by him.  It was the Hottentot, more dead
+than alive.
+
+Staines whispered him, "I think he is gone."
+
+The Hottentot whispered, "Gone a little way to watch.  He is wise
+as well as strong."  With this he disappeared beneath the water.
+
+Still no sound but the screaming of the vultures, and snarling of
+the hyenas and jackals over the eland.
+
+"Take a look," said Staines.
+
+"Yes," said Squat; "but not to-day.  Wait here a day or two.  Den
+he forget and forgive."
+
+Now Staines, having seen the lion lie down and watch the dying
+eland, was a great deal impressed by this; and as he had now good
+hopes of saving his life, he would not throw away a chance.  He
+kept his head just above water, and never moved.
+
+In this freezing situation they remained.
+
+Presently there was a rustling that made both crouch.
+
+It was followed by a croaking noise.
+
+Christopher made himself small.
+
+The Hottentot, on the contrary, raised his head, and ventured a
+little way into the stream.
+
+By these means he saw it was something very foul, but not terrible.
+It was a large vulture that had settled on the very top of the
+nearest acacia.
+
+At this the Hottentot got bolder still, and to the great surprise
+of Staines began to crawl cautiously into some rushes, and through
+them up the bank.
+
+The next moment he burst into a mixture of yelling and chirping and
+singing, and other sounds so manifestly jubilant, that the vulture
+flapped heavily away, and Staines emerged in turn, but very
+cautiously.
+
+Could he believe his eyes?  There lay the lion, dead as a stone, on
+his back, with his four legs in the air, like wooden legs, they
+were so very dead: and the valiant Squat, dancing about him, and on
+him, and over him.
+
+Staines, unable to change his sentiments so quickly, eyed even the
+dead body of the royal beast with awe and wonder.  What! had he
+already laid that terrible monarch low, and with a tube made in a
+London shop by men who never saw a lion spring, nor heard his awful
+roar shake the air?  He stood with his heart still beating, and
+said not a word.  The shallow Hottentot whipped out a large knife,
+and began to skin the king of beasts.  Staines wondered he could so
+profane that masterpiece of nature.  He felt more inclined to thank
+God for so great a preservation, and then pass reverently on, and
+leave the dead king undesecrated.
+
+He was roused from his solemn thoughts by the reflection that there
+might be a lioness about, since there were cubs: he took a piece of
+paper, emptied his remaining powder into it, and proceeded to dry
+it in the sun.  This was soon done, and then he loaded both
+barrels.
+
+By this time the adroit Hottentot had flayed the carcass
+sufficiently to reveal the mortal injury.  The projectile had
+entered the chest, and slanting upwards, had burst among the
+vitals, reducing them to a gory pulp.  The lion must have died in
+the air, when he bounded on receiving the fatal shot.
+
+The Hottentot uttered a cry of admiration.  "Not the lion king of
+all, nor even the white man," he said; "but Enfeel rifle!"
+
+Staines's eyes glittered.  "You shall have it, and the horse, for
+your diamond," said he eagerly.
+
+The black seemed a little shaken; but did not reply.  He got out of
+it by going on with his lion; and Staines eyed him, and was
+bitterly disappointed at not getting the diamond even on these
+terms.  He began to feel he should never get it: they were near the
+high-road; he could not keep the Hottentot to himself much longer.
+He felt sick at heart.  He had wild and wicked thoughts; half hoped
+the lioness would come and kill the Hottentot, and liberate the
+jewel that possessed his soul.
+
+At last the skin was off, and the Hottentot said, "Me take this to
+my kraal, and dey all say, 'Squat a great shooter; kill um lion.'"
+
+Then Staines saw another chance for him, and summoned all his
+address for a last effort.  "No, Squat," said he, "that skin
+belongs to me.  I shot the lion, with the only rifle that can kill
+a lion like a cat.  Yet you would not give me a diamond--a paltry
+stone for it.  No, Squat, if you were to go into your village with
+that lion's skin, why the old men would bend their heads to you,
+and say, 'Great is Squat!  He killed the lion, and wears his skin.'
+The young women would all fight which should be the wife of Squat.
+Squat would be king of the village."
+
+Squat's eyes began to roll.
+
+"And shall I give the skin, and the glory that is my due, to an
+ill-natured fellow, who refuses me his paltry diamond for a good
+horse--look at him--and for the rifle that kills lions like
+rabbits--behold it; and a hundred pounds in good gold and Dutch
+notes--see; and for the lion's skin, and glory, and honor, and a
+rich wife, and to be king of Africa?  Never!"
+
+The Hottentot's hands and toes began to work convulsively.  "Good
+master, Squat ask pardon.  Squat was blind.  Squat will give the
+diamond, the great diamond of Africa, for the lion's skin, and the
+king rifle, and the little horse, and the gold, and Dutch notes
+every one of them.  Dat make just two hundred pounds."
+
+"More like four hundred," cried Staines very loud.  "And how do I
+know it is a diamond?  These large stones are the most deceitful.
+Show it me, this instant," said he imperiously.
+
+"Iss, master," said the crushed Hottentot, with the voice of a
+mouse, and put the stone into his hand with a child-like faith that
+almost melted Staines; but he saw he must be firm.  "Where did you
+find it?" he bawled.
+
+"Master," said poor Squat, in deprecating tones, "my little master
+at the farm wanted plaster.  He send to Bulteel's pan; dere was
+large lumps.  Squat say to miners, 'May we take de large lumps?
+Dey say, 'Yes; take de cursed lumps we no can break.'  We took de
+cursed lumps.  We ride 'em in de cart to farm twenty milses.  I
+beat 'em with my hammer.  Dey is very hard.  More dey break my
+heart dan I break their cursed heads.  One day I use strong words,
+like white man, and I hit one large lump too hard; he break, and
+out come de white clear stone.  Iss, him diamond.  Long time we
+know him in our kraal, because he hard.  Long time before ever
+white man know him, tousand years ago, we find him, and he make us
+lilly hole in big stone for make wheat dust.  Him a diamond, blank
+my eyes!"
+
+This was intended as a solemn form of asseveration adapted to the
+white man's habits.
+
+Yes, reader, he told the truth; and strange to say, the miners knew
+the largest stones were in these great lumps of carbonate, but then
+the lumps were so cruelly hard, they lost all patience with them,
+and so, finding it was no use to break some of them, and not all,
+they rejected them all, with curses; and thus this great stone was
+carted away as rubbish from the mine, and found, like a toad in a
+hole, by Squat.
+
+"Well," said Christopher, "after all, you are an honest fellow, and
+I think I will buy it; but first you must show me out of this wood;
+I am not going to be eaten alive in it for want of the king of
+rifles."
+
+Squat assented eagerly, and they started at once.  They passed the
+skeleton of the eland; its very bones were polished, and its head
+carried into the wood; and looking back they saw vultures busy on
+the lion.  They soon cleared the wood.
+
+Squat handed Staines the diamond--when it touched his hand, as his
+own, a bolt of ice seemed to run down his back, and hot water to
+follow it--and the money, horse, rifle, and skin were made over to
+Squat.
+
+"Shake hands over it, Squat," said Staines; "you are hard, but you
+are honest."
+
+"Iss, master, I a good much hard and honest," said Squat.
+
+"Good-by, old fellow."
+
+"Good-by, master."
+
+And Squat strutted away, with the halter in his hand, horse
+following him, rifle under his arm, and the lion's skin over his
+shoulders, and the tail trailing, a figure sublime in his own eyes,
+ridiculous in creation's.  So vanity triumphed, even in the wilds
+of Africa.
+
+Staines hurried forward on foot, loading his revolver as he went,
+for the very vicinity of the wood alarmed him now that he had
+parted with his trusty rifle.
+
+That night he lay down on the open veldt, in his jackal's skin,
+with no weapon but his revolver, and woke with a start a dozen
+times.  Just before daybreak he scanned the stars carefully, and
+noting exactly where the sun rose, made a rough guess at his
+course, and followed it till the sun was too hot; then he crept
+under a ragged bush, hung up his jackal's skin, and sweated there,
+parched with thirst, and gnawed with hunger.  When it was cooler,
+he crept on, and found water, but no food.  He was in torture, and
+began to be frightened, for he was in a desert.  He found an
+ostrich egg and ate it ravenously.
+
+Next day, hunger took a new form, faintness.  He could not walk for
+it; his jackal's skin oppressed him; he lay down exhausted.  A
+horror seized his dejected soul.  The diamond!  It would be his
+death.  No man must so long for any earthly thing as he had for
+this glittering traitor.  "Oh! my good horse! my trusty rifle!" he
+cried.  "For what have I thrown you away?  For starvation.  Misers
+have been found stretched over their gold; and some day my skeleton
+will be found, and nothing to tell the base death I died of and
+deserved; nothing but the cursed diamond.  Ay, fiend, glare in my
+eyes, do!"  He felt delirium creeping over him; and at that a new
+terror froze him.  His reason, that he had lost once, was he to
+lose it again?  He prayed; he wept; he dozed, and forgot all.  When
+he woke again, a cool air was fanning his cheeks; it revived him a
+little; it became almost a breeze.
+
+And this breeze, as it happened, carried on its wings the curse of
+Africa.  There loomed in the north-west a cloud of singular
+density, that seemed to expand in size as it drew nearer, yet to be
+still more solid, and darken the air.  It seemed a dust-storm.
+Staines took out his handkerchief, prepared to wrap his face in it,
+not to be stifled.
+
+But soon there was a whirring and a whizzing, and hundreds of
+locusts flew over his head; they were followed by thousands, the
+swiftest of the mighty host.  They thickened and thickened, till
+the air looked solid, and even that glaring sun was blackened by
+the rushing mass.  Birds of all sorts whirled above, and swooped
+among them.  They peppered Staines all over like shot.  They stuck
+in his beard, and all over him; they clogged the bushes, carpeted
+the ground, while the darkened air sang as with the whirl of
+machinery.  Every bird in the air, and beast of the field,
+granivorous or carnivorous, was gorged with them; and to these
+animals was added man, for Staines, being famished, and remembering
+the vrow Bulteel, lighted a fire, and roasted a handful or two on a
+flat stone; they were delicious.  The fire once lighted, they
+cooked themselves, for they kept flying into it.  Three hours,
+without interruption, did they darken nature, and, before the
+column ceased, all the beasts of the field came after, gorging them
+so recklessly, that Staines could have shot an antelope dead with
+his pistol within a yard of him.
+
+But to tell the horrible truth, the cooked locusts were so nice
+that he preferred to gorge on them along with the other animals.
+
+He roasted another lot, for future use, and marched on with a good
+heart.
+
+But now he got on some rough, scrubby ground, and damaged his
+shoes, and tore his trousers.
+
+This lasted a terrible distance; but at the end of it came the
+usual arid ground; and at last he came upon the track of wheels and
+hoofs.  He struck it at an acute angle, and that showed him he had
+made a good line.  He limped along it a little way, slowly, being
+footsore.
+
+By and by, looking back, he saw a lot of rough fellows swaggering
+along behind him.  Then he was alarmed, terribly alarmed, for his
+diamond; he tore a strip of his handkerchief, and tied the stone
+cunningly under his armpit as he hobbled on.
+
+The men came up with him.
+
+"Hallo, mate!  Come from the diggings?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What luck?"
+
+"Very good."
+
+"Haw! haw!  What! found a fifty-carat?  Show it us."
+
+"We found five big stones, my mate and me.  He is gone to Cape Town
+to sell them.  I had no luck when he had left me, so I have cut it;
+going to turn farmer.  Can you tell me how far it is to Dale's
+Kloof?"
+
+No, they could not tell him that.  They swung on; and, to Staines,
+their backs were a cordial, as we say in Scotland.
+
+However, his travels were near an end.  Next morning he saw Dale's
+Kloof in the distance; and as soon as the heat moderated, he pushed
+on, with one shoe and tattered trousers; and half an hour before
+sunset he hobbled up to the place.
+
+It was all bustle.  Travellers at the door; their wagons and carts
+under a long shed.
+
+Ucatella was the first to see him coming, and came and fawned on
+him with delight.  Her eyes glistened, her teeth gleamed.  She
+patted both his cheeks, and then his shoulders, and even his knees,
+and then flew in-doors crying, "My doctor child is come home!"
+This amused three travellers, and brought out Dick, with a hearty
+welcome.
+
+"But Lordsake, sir, why have you come afoot; and a rough road too?
+Look at your shoes.  Hallo!  What is come of the horse?"
+
+"I exchanged him for a diamond."
+
+"The deuce you did!  And the rifle?"
+
+"Exchanged that for the same diamond."
+
+"It ought to be a big 'un."
+
+"It is."
+
+Dick made a wry face.  "Well, sir, you know best.  You are welcome,
+on horse or afoot.  You are just in time; Phoebe and me are just
+sitting down to dinner."
+
+He took him into a little room they had built for their own
+privacy, for they liked to be quiet now and then, being country
+bred; and Phoebe was putting their dinner on the table, when
+Staines limped in.
+
+She gave a joyful cry, and turned red all over.  "Oh, doctor!"
+Then his travel-torn appearance struck her.  "But, dear heart! what
+a figure!  Where's Reginald?  Oh, he's not far off, I know."
+
+And she flung open the window, and almost flew through it in a
+moment, to look for her husband.
+
+"Reginald?" said Staines.  Then turning to Dick Dale, "Why, he is
+here--isn't he?"
+
+"No, sir: not without he is just come with you."
+
+"With me?--no.  You know we parted at the diggings.  Come, Mr.
+Dale, he may not be here now; but he has been here.  He must have
+been here."
+
+Phoebe, who had not lost a word, turned round, with all her high
+color gone, and her cheeks getting paler and paler.  "Oh, Dick!
+what is this?"
+
+"I don't understand it," said Dick.  "Whatever made you think he
+was here, sir?"
+
+"Why, I tell you he left me to come here."
+
+"Left you, sir!" faltered Phoebe.  "Why, when?--where?"
+
+"At the diggings--ever so long ago."
+
+"Blank him! that is just like him; the uneasy fool!" roared Dick.
+
+"No, Mr. Dale, you should not say that; he left me, with my
+consent, to come to Mrs. Falcon here, and consult her about
+disposing of our diamonds."
+
+"Diamonds!--diamonds!" cried Phoebe.  "Oh, they make me tremble.
+How COULD you let him go alone!  You didn't let HIM go on foot, I
+hope?"
+
+"Oh, no, Mrs. Falcon; he had his horse, and his rifle, and money to
+spend on the road."
+
+"How long ago did he leave you, sir?"
+
+"I--I am sorry to say it was five weeks ago."
+
+"Five weeks! and not come yet.  Ah! the wild beasts!--the diggers!--
+the murderers!  He is dead!"
+
+"God forbid!" faltered Staines; but his own blood began to run
+cold.
+
+"He is dead.  He has died between this and the dreadful diamonds.
+I shall never see my darling again: he is dead.  He is dead."
+
+She rushed out of the room, and out of the house, throwing her arms
+above her head in despair, and uttering those words of agony again
+and again in every variety of anguish.
+
+At such horrible moments women always swoon--if we are to believe
+the dramatists.  I doubt if there is one grain of truth in this.
+Women seldom swoon at all, unless their bodies are unhealthy, or
+weakened by the reaction that follows so terrible a shock as this.
+At all events, Phoebe, at first, was strong and wild as a lion, and
+went to and fro outside the house, unconscious of her body's
+motion, frenzied with agony, and but one word on her lips, "He is
+dead!--he is dead!"
+
+Dick followed her, crying like a child, but master of himself; he
+got his people about her, and half carried her in again; then shut
+the door in all their faces.
+
+He got the poor creature to sit down, and she began to rock and
+moan, with her apron over her head, and her brown hair loose about
+her.
+
+"Why should he be dead?" said Dick.  "Don't give a man up like
+that, Phoebe.  Doctor, tell us more about it.  Oh, man, how could
+you let him out of your sight?  You knew how fond the poor creature
+was of him."
+
+"But that was it, Mr. Dale," said Staines.  "I knew his wife must
+pine for him; and we had found six large diamonds, and a handful of
+small ones; but the market was glutted; and to get a better price,
+he wanted to go straight to Cape Town.  But I said, 'No; go and
+show them to your wife, and see whether she will go to Cape Town.'"
+
+Phoebe began to listen, as was evident by her moaning more softly.
+
+"Might he not have gone straight to Cape Town?" Staines hazarded
+this timidly.
+
+"Why should he do that, sir?  Dale's Kloof is on the road."
+
+"Only on one road.  Mr. Dale, he was well armed, with rifle and
+revolver; and I cautioned him not to show a diamond on the road.
+Who would molest him?  Diamonds don't show, like gold.  Who was to
+know he had three thousand pounds hidden under his armpits, and in
+two barrels of his revolver?"
+
+"Three thousand pounds!" cried Dale.  "You trusted HIM with three
+thousand pounds?"
+
+"Certainly.  They were worth about three thousand pounds in Cape
+Town, and half as much again in"--
+
+Phoebe started up in a moment.  "Thank God!" she cried.  "There's
+hope for me.  Oh, Dick, he is not dead: HE HAS ONLY DESERTED ME."
+
+And with these strange and pitiable words, she fell to sobbing as
+if her great heart would burst at last.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+
+There came a reaction, and Phoebe was prostrated with grief and
+alarm.  Her brother never doubted now that Reginald had run to Cape
+Town for a lark.  But Phoebe, though she thought so too, could not
+be sure; and so the double agony of bereavement and desertion
+tortured her by turns, and almost together.  For the first time
+these many years, she was so crushed she could not go about her
+business, but lay on a little sofa in her own room, and had the
+blinds down, for her head ached so she could not bear the light.
+
+She conceived a bitter resentment against Staines; and told Dick
+never to let him into her sight, if he did not want to be her
+death.
+
+In vain Dick made excuses for him: she would hear none.  For once
+she was as unreasonable as any other living woman: she could see
+nothing but that she had been happy, after years of misery, and
+should be happy now if this man had never entered her house.  "Ah,
+Collie!" she cried, "you were wiser than I was.  You as good as
+told me he would make me smart for lodging and curing him.  And I
+was SO happy!"
+
+Dale communicated this as delicately as he could to Staines.
+Christopher was deeply grieved and wounded.  He thought it unjust,
+but he knew it was natural: he said, humbly, "I feel guilty myself,
+Mr. Dale; and yet, unless I had possessed omniscience, what could I
+do?  I thought of her in all--poor thing! poor thing!"
+
+The tears were in his eyes, and Dick Dale went away scratching his
+head and thinking it over.  The more he thought, the less he was
+inclined to condemn him.
+
+Staines himself was much troubled in mind, and lived on thorns.  He
+wanted to be off to England; grudged every day, every hour, he
+spent in Africa.  But Mrs. Falcon was his benefactress; he had
+been, for months and months, garnering up a heap of gratitude
+towards her.  He had not the heart to leave her bad friends, and in
+misery.  He kept hoping Falcon would return, or write.
+
+Two days after his return, he was seated, disconsolate, gluing
+garnets and carbuncles on to a broad tapering bit of lambskin, when
+Ucatella came to him and said, "My doctor child sick?"
+
+"No, not sick: but miserable."  And he explained to her, as well as
+he could, what had passed.  "But," said he, "I would not mind the
+loss of the diamonds now, if I was only sure he was alive.  I think
+most of poor, poor Mrs. Falcon."
+
+While Ucatella pondered this, but with one eye of demure curiosity
+on the coronet he was making, he told her it was for her--he had
+not forgot her at the mines.
+
+"These stones," said he, "are not valued there; but see how
+glorious they are!"
+
+In a few minutes he had finished the coronet, and gave it her.  She
+uttered a chuckle of delight, and with instinctive art, bound it,
+in a turn of her hand, about her brow; and then Staines himself was
+struck dumb with amazement.  The carbuncles gathered from those
+mines look like rubies, so full of fire are they, and of enormous
+size.  The chaplet had twelve great carbuncles in the centre, and
+went off by gradations into smaller garnets by the thousand.  They
+flashed their blood-red flames in the African sun, and the head of
+Ucatella, grand before, became the head of the Sphinx, encircled
+with a coronet of fire.  She bestowed a look of rapturous gratitude
+on Staines, and then glided away, like the stately Juno, to admire
+herself in the nearest glass like any other coquette, black, brown,
+yellow, copper, or white.
+
+That very day, towards sunset, she burst upon Staines quite
+suddenly, with her coronet gleaming on her magnificent head, and
+her eyes like coals of fire, and under her magnificent arm, hard as
+a rock, a boy kicking and struggling in vain.  She was furiously
+excited, and, for the first time, showed signs of the savage in the
+whites of her eyes, which seemed to turn the glorious pupils into
+semicircles.  She clutched Staines by the shoulder with her left
+hand, and swept along with the pair, like dark Fate, or as potent
+justice sweeps away a pair of culprits, and carried them to the
+little window, and cried "Open--open!"
+
+Dick Dale was at dinner; Phoebe lying down.  Dick got up, rather
+crossly, and threw open the window.  "What is up now?" said he
+crossly: he was like two or three more Englishmen--hated to be
+bothered at dinner-time.
+
+"Dar," screamed Ucatella, setting down Tim, but holding him tight
+by the shoulder; "now you tell what you see that night, you lilly
+Kafir trash; if you not tell, I kill you DEAD;" and she showed the
+whites of her eyes, like a wild beast.
+
+Tim, thoroughly alarmed, quivered out that he had seen lilly master
+ride up to the gate one bright night, and look in, and Tim thought
+he was going in: but he changed his mind, and galloped away that
+way; and the monkey pointed south.
+
+"And why couldn't you tell us this before?" questioned Dick.
+
+"Me mind de sheep," said Tim apologetically.  "Me not mind de lilly
+master: jackals not eat him."
+
+"You no more sense dan a sheep yourself," said Ucatella loftily.
+
+"No, no: God bless you both," cried poor Phoebe: "now I know the
+worst:" and a great burst of tears relieved her suffering heart.
+
+Dick went out softly.  When he got outside the door, he drew them
+all apart, and said, "Yuke, you ARE a good-hearted girl.  I'll
+never forget this while I live; and, Tim, there's a shilling for
+thee; but don't you go and spend it in Cape smoke; that is poison
+to whites, and destruction to blacks."
+
+"No, master," said Tim.  "I shall buy much bread, and make my
+tomach tiff;" then, with a glance of reproach at the domestic
+caterer, Ucatella, "I almost never have my tomach tiff."
+
+Dick left his sister alone an hour or two, to have her cry out.
+
+When he went back to her there was a change: the brave woman no
+longer lay prostrate.  She went about her business; only she was
+always either crying or drowning her tears.
+
+He brought Dr. Staines in.  Phoebe instantly turned her back on him
+with a shudder there was no mistaking.
+
+"I had better go," said Staines.  "Mrs. Falcon will never forgive
+me."
+
+"She will have to quarrel with me else," said Dick steadily.  "Sit
+you down, doctor.  Honest folk like you and me and Phoebe wasn't
+made to quarrel for want of looking a thing all round.  My sister
+she hasn't looked it all round, and I have.  Come, Pheeb, 'tis no
+use your blinding yourself.  How was the poor doctor to know your
+husband is a blackguard?"
+
+"He is not a blackguard.  How dare you say that to my face?"
+
+"He is a blackguard, and always was.  And now he is a thief to
+boot.  He has stolen those diamonds; you know that very well."
+
+"Gently, Mr. Dale; you forget: they are as much his as mine."
+
+"Well, and if half a sheep is mine, and I take the whole and sell
+him, and keep the money, what is that but stealing?  Why, I wonder
+at you, Pheeb.  You was always honest yourself, and yet you see the
+doctor robbed by your man, and that does not trouble you.  What has
+he done to deserve it?  He has been a good friend to us.  He has
+put us on the road.  We did little more than keep the pot boiling
+before he came--well, yes, we stored grain; but whose advice has
+turned that grain to gold, I might say?  Well, what's his offence?
+He trusted the diamonds to your man, and sent him to you.  Is he
+the first honest man that has trusted a rogue?  How was he to know?
+Likely he judged the husband by the wife.  Answer me one thing,
+Pheeb.  If he makes away with fifteen hundred pounds that is his,
+or partly yours--for he has eaten your bread ever since I knew him--
+and fifteen hundred more that is the doctor's, where shall we find
+fifteen hundred pounds, all in a moment, to pay the doctor back his
+own?"
+
+"My honest friend," said Staines, "you are tormenting yourself with
+shadows.  I don't believe Mr. Falcon will wrong me of a shilling;
+and, if he does, I shall quietly repay myself out of the big
+diamond.  Yes, my dear friends, I did not throw away your horse,
+nor your rifle, nor your money: I gave them all, and the lion's
+skin--I gave them all--for this."
+
+And he laid the big diamond on the table.
+
+It was as big as a walnut, and of the purest water.
+
+Dick Dale glanced at it stupidly.  Phoebe turned her back on it,
+with a cry of horror, and then came slowly round by degrees; and
+her eyes were fascinated by the royal gem.
+
+"Yes," said Staines sadly, "I had to strip myself of all to buy it,
+and, when I had got it, how proud I was, and how happy I thought we
+should all be over it, for it is half yours, half mine.  Yes, Mr.
+Dale, there lies six thousand pounds that belong to Mrs. Falcon."
+
+"Six thousand pounds!" cried Dick.
+
+"I'm sure of it.  And so, if your suspicions are correct, and poor
+Falcon should yield to a sudden temptation, and spend all that
+money, I shall just coolly deduct it from your share of this
+wonderful stone: so make your mind easy.  But no; if Falcon is
+really so wicked as to desert his happy home, and so mad as to
+spend thousands in a month or two, let us go and save him."
+
+"That is my business," said Phoebe.  "I am going in the mail-cart
+to-morrow."
+
+"Well, you won't go alone," said Dick.
+
+"Mrs. Falcon," said Staines imploringly, "let me go with you."
+
+"Thank you, sir.  My brother can take care of me."
+
+"Me!  You had better not take me.  If I catch hold of him, by ---
+I'll break his neck, or his back, or his leg, or something; he'll
+never run away from you again, if I lay hands on him," replied
+Dick.
+
+"I'll go alone.  You are both against me."
+
+"No, Mrs. Falcon; I am not," said Staines.  "My heart bleeds for
+you."
+
+"Don't you demean yourself, praying her," said Dick.  "It's a
+public conveyance: you have no need to ask HER leave."
+
+"That is true: I can't hinder folk from going to Cape Town the same
+day," said Phoebe sullenly.
+
+"If I might presume to advise, I would take little Tommy."
+
+"What! all that road?  Do you want me to lose my child, as well as
+my man?"
+
+"O Mrs. Falcon!"
+
+"Don't speak to her, doctor, to get your nose snapped off.  Give
+her time.  She'll come to her senses before she dies."
+
+Next day Mrs. Falcon and Staines started for Cape Town.  Staines
+paid her every attention, when opportunity offered.  But she was
+sullen and gloomy, and held no converse with him.
+
+He landed her at an inn, and then told her he would go at once to
+the jeweller's.  He asked her piteously would she lend him a pound
+or two to prosecute his researches.  She took out her purse,
+without a word, and lent him two pounds.
+
+He began to scour the town: the jewellers he visited could tell him
+nothing.  At last he came to a shop, and there he found Mrs. Falcon
+making her inquiries independently.  She said coldly, "You had
+better come with me, and get your money and things."
+
+She took him to the bank--it happened to be the one she did
+business with--and said, "This is Dr. Christie, come for his money
+and jewels."
+
+There was some demur at this; but the cashier recognized him, and
+Phoebe making herself responsible, the money and jewels were handed
+over.
+
+Staines whispered Phoebe, "Are you sure the jewels are mine?"
+
+"They were found on you, sir."
+
+Staines took them, looking confused.  He did not know what to
+think.  When they got into the street again, he told her it was
+very kind of her to think of his interest at all.
+
+No answer: she was not going to make friends with him over such a
+trifle as that.
+
+By degrees, however, Christopher's zeal on her behalf broke the
+ice; and besides, as the search proved unavailing, she needed
+sympathy; and he gave it her, and did not abuse her husband as Dick
+Dale did.
+
+One day, in the street, after a long thought, she said to him,
+"Didn't you say, sir, you gave him a letter for me?"
+
+"I gave him two letters; one of them was to you."
+
+"Could you remember what you said in it?"
+
+"Perfectly.  I begged you, if you should go to England, to break
+the truth to my wife.  She is very excitable; and sudden joy has
+killed ere now.  I gave you particular instructions."
+
+"And you were very wise.  But whatever could make you think I would
+go to England?"
+
+"He told me you only wanted an excuse."
+
+"Oh!!"
+
+"When he told me that, I caught at it, of course.  It was all the
+world to me to get my Rosa told by such a kind, good, sensible
+friend as you; and, Mrs. Falcon, I had no scruple about troubling
+you, because I knew the stones would sell for at least a thousand
+pounds more in England than here, and that would pay your expenses."
+
+"I see, sir; I see.  'Twas very natural: you love your wife."
+
+"Better than my life."
+
+"And he told you I only wanted an excuse to go to England?"
+
+"He did, indeed.  It was not true?"
+
+"It was anything but true.  I had suffered so in England; I had
+been so happy here: too happy to last.  Ah! well, it is all over.
+Let us think of the matter in hand.  Sure that was not the only
+letter you gave my husband?  Didn't you write to HER?"
+
+"Of course I did; but that was enclosed to you, and not to be given
+to her until you had broken the joyful news to her.  Yes, Mrs.
+Falcon, I wrote and told her everything: my loss at sea; how I was
+saved, after, by your kindness.  Our journeys, from Cape Town, and
+then to the diggings; my sudden good fortune, my hopes, my joy--
+O my poor Rosa! and now I suppose she will never get it.  It is too
+cruel of him.  I shall go home by the next steamer.  I CAN'T stay
+here any longer, for you or anybody.  Oh, and I enclosed my ruby
+ring that she gave me, for I thought she might not believe you
+without that."
+
+"Let me think," said Phoebe, turning ashy pale.  "For mercy's sake,
+let me think!
+
+"He has read both those letters, sir.
+
+"She will never see hers: any more than I shall see mine."
+
+She paused again, thinking harder and harder.
+
+"We must take two places in the next mail steamer.  I must look
+after my husband, AND YOU AFTER YOUR WIFE."
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+
+Mrs. Falcon's bitter feeling against Dr. Staines did not subside;
+it merely went out of sight a little.  They were thrown together by
+potent circumstances, and in a manner connected by mutual
+obligations; so an open rupture seemed too unnatural.  Still Phoebe
+was a woman, and, blinded by her love for her husband, could not
+forgive the innocent cause of their present unhappy separation;
+though the fault lay entirely with Falcon.
+
+Staines took her on board the steamer, and paid her every
+attention.  She was also civil to him; but it was a cold and
+constrained civility.
+
+About a hundred miles from land the steamer stopped, and the
+passengers soon learned there was something wrong with her
+machinery.  In fact, after due consultation, the captain decided to
+put back.
+
+This irritated and distressed Mrs. Falcon so that the captain,
+desirous to oblige her, hailed a fast schooner, that tacked across
+her bows, and gave Mrs. Falcon the option of going back with him,
+or going on in the schooner, with whose skipper he was acquainted.
+
+Staines advised her on no account to trust to sails, when she could
+have steam with only a delay of four or five days; but she said,
+"Anything sooner than go back.  I can't, I can't on such an
+errand."
+
+Accordingly she was put on board the schooner, and Staines, after
+some hesitation, felt bound to accompany her.
+
+It proved a sad error.  Contrary winds assailed them the very next
+day, and with such severity that they had repeatedly to lie to.
+
+On one of these occasions, with a ship reeling under them like a
+restive horse, and the waves running mountains high, poor Phoebe's
+terrors overmastered both her hostility and her reserve.  "Doctor,"
+said she, "I believe 'tis God's will we shall never see England.  I
+must try and die more like a Christian than I have lived, forgiving
+all who have wronged me, and you, that have been my good friend and
+my worst enemy, but you did not mean it.  Sir, what has turned me
+against you so--your wife was my husband's sweetheart before he
+married me."
+
+"My wife your husband's--you are dreaming."
+
+"Nay, sir, once she came to my shop, and I saw directly I was
+nothing to him, and he owned it all to me; he had courted her, and
+she jilted him; so he said.  Why should he tell me a lie about
+that?  I'd lay my life 'tis true.  And now you have sent him to her
+your own self; and, at sight of her, I shall be nothing again.
+Well, when this ship goes down, they can marry, and I hope he will
+be happy, happier than I can make him, that tried my best, God
+knows."
+
+This conversation surprised Staines not a little.  However, he
+said, with great warmth, it was false.  His wife had danced and
+flirted with some young gentleman at one time, when there was a
+brief misunderstanding between him and her, but sweetheart she had
+never had, except him.  He courted her fresh from school.  "Now, my
+good soul," said he, "make your mind easy; the ship is a good one,
+and well handled, and in no danger whatever, and my wife is in no
+danger from your husband.  Since you and your brother tell me that
+he is a villain, I am bound to believe you.  But my wife is an
+angel.  In our miserable hour of parting, she vowed not to marry
+again, should I be taken from her.  Marry again! what am I talking
+of?  Why, if he visits her at all, it will be to let her know I am
+alive, and give her my letter.  Do you mean to tell me she will
+listen to vows of love from him, when her whole heart is in rapture
+for me?  Such nonsense!"
+
+This burst of his did not affront her, and did not comfort her.
+
+At last the wind abated; and after a wearisome calm, a light breeze
+came, and the schooner crept homeward.
+
+Phoebe restrained herself for several days; but at last she came
+back to the subject; this time it was in an apologetic tone at
+starting.  "I know you think me a foolish woman," she said; "but my
+poor Reginald could never resist a pretty face; and she is so
+lovely; and you should have seen how he turned when she came in to
+my place.  Oh, sir, there has been more between them than you know
+of; and when I think that he will have been in England so many
+months before we get there, oh, doctor, sometimes I feel as I
+should go mad; my head it is like a furnace, and see, my brow is
+all wrinkled again."
+
+Then Staines tried to comfort her; assured her she was tormenting
+herself idly; her husband would perhaps have spent some of the
+diamond money on his amusement; but what if he had? he should
+deduct it out of the big diamond, which was also their joint
+property, and the loss would hardly be felt.  "As to my wife,
+madam, I have but one anxiety; lest he should go blurting it out
+that I am alive, and almost kill her with joy."
+
+"He will not do that, sir.  He is no fool."
+
+"I am glad of it; for there is nothing else to fear."
+
+"Man, I tell you there is everything to fear.  You don't know him
+as I do; nor his power over women."
+
+"Mrs. Falcon, are you bent on affronting me?"
+
+"No, sir; Heaven forbid!"
+
+"Then please to close this subject forever.  In three weeks we
+shall be in England."
+
+"Ay; but he has been there six months."
+
+He bowed stiffly to her, went to his cabin, and avoided the poor
+foolish woman as much as he could without seeming too unkind.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+
+Mrs. Staines made one or two movements--to stop Lord Tadcaster--
+with her hand, that expressive feature with which, at such times, a
+sensitive woman can do all but speak.
+
+When at last he paused for her reply, she said, "Me marry again!
+Oh! for shame!"
+
+"Mrs. Staines--Rosa--you will marry again, some day."
+
+"Never.  Me take another husband, after such a man as I have lost!
+I should be a monster.  Oh, Lord Tadcaster, you have been so kind
+to me; so sympathizing.  You made me believe you loved my
+Christopher, too; and now you have spoiled all.  It is too cruel."
+
+"Oh! Mrs. Staines, do you think me capable of feigning--don't you
+see my love for you has taken you by surprise?  But how could I
+visit you--look on you--hear you--mingle my regrets with yours;
+yours were the deepest, of course; but mine were honest."
+
+"I believe it."  And she gave him her hand.  He held it, and kissed
+it, and cried over it, as the young will, and implored her, on his
+knees, not to condemn herself to life-long widowhood, and him to
+despair.
+
+Then she cried, too; but she was firm; and by degrees she made him
+see that her heart was inaccessible.
+
+Then at last he submitted with tearful eyes, but a valiant heart.
+
+She offered friendship timidly.
+
+But he was too much of a man to fall into that trap.  "No," he
+said: "I could not, I could not.  Love or nothing."
+
+"You are right," said she, pityingly.  "Forgive me.  In my
+selfishness and my usual folly, I did not see this coming on, or I
+would have spared you this mortification."
+
+"Never mind that," gulped the little earl.  "I shall always be
+proud I knew you, and proud I loved you, and offered you my hand."
+
+Then the magnanimous little fellow blessed her, and left her, and
+discontinued his visits.
+
+Mr. Lusignan found her crying, and got the truth out of her.  He
+was in despair.  He remonstrated kindly, but firmly.  Truth compels
+me to say that she politely ignored him.  He observed that
+phenomenon, and said, "Very well then, I shall telegraph for Uncle
+Philip."
+
+"Do," said the rebel.  "He is always welcome."
+
+Philip, telegraphed, came down that evening; likewise his little
+black bag.  He found them in the drawing-room: papa with the Pall
+Mall Gazette, Rosa seated, sewing, at a lamp.  She made little
+Christie's clothes herself,--fancy that!
+
+Having ascertained that the little boy was well, Philip, adroitly
+hiding that he had come down torn with anxiety on that head,
+inquired with a show of contemptuous indifference, whose cat was
+dead.
+
+"Nobody's," said Lusignan crossly.  Then he turned and pointed the
+Gazette at his offspring.  "Do you see that young lady stitching
+there so demurely?"
+
+Philip carefully wiped and then put on his spectacles.
+
+"I see her," said he.  "She does look a little too innocent.  None
+of them are really so innocent as all that.  Has she been swearing
+at the nurse, and boxing her ears?"
+
+"Worse than that.  She has been and refused the Earl of Tadcaster."
+
+"Refused him--what! has that little monkey had the audacity?"
+
+"The condescension, you mean.  Yes."
+
+"And she has refused him?"
+
+"And twenty thousand a year."
+
+"What immorality!"
+
+"Worse.  What absurdity!"
+
+"How is it to be accounted for?  Is it the old story?  'I could
+never love him.'  No; that's inadequate; for they all love a title
+and twenty thousand a year."
+
+Rosa sewed on all this time in demure and absolute silence.
+
+"She ignores us," said Philip.  "It is intolerable.  She does not
+appreciate our politeness in talking at her.  Let us arraign her
+before our sacred tribunal, and have her into court.  Now,
+mistress, the Senate of Venice is assembled, and you must be
+pleased to tell us why you refused a title and twenty thousand a
+year, with a small but symmetrical earl tacked on."
+
+Rosa laid down her work, and said quietly, "Uncle, almost the last
+words that passed between me and my Christopher, we promised each
+other solemnly never to marry again till death should us part.  You
+know how deep my sorrow has been that I can find so few wishes of
+my lost Christopher to obey.  Well, to-day I have had an
+opportunity at last.  I have obeyed my own lost one; it has cost me
+a tear or two; but, for all that, it has given me one little gleam
+of happiness.  Ah, foolish woman, that obeys too late!"
+
+And with this the tears began to run.
+
+All this seemed a little too high-flown to Mr. Lusignan.  "There,"
+said he, "see on what a straw her mind turns.  So, but for that,
+you would have done the right thing, and married the earl?"
+
+"I dare say I should--at the time--to stop his crying."
+
+And with this listless remark she quietly took up her sewing again.
+
+The sagacious Philip looked at her gravely.  He thought to himself
+how piteous it was to see so young and lovely a creature, that had
+given up all hope of happiness for herself.  These being his real
+thoughts, he expressed himself as follows: "We had better drop this
+subject, sir.  This young lady will take us potent, grave, and
+reverend seignors out of our depth, if we don't mind."
+
+But the moment he got her alone he kissed her paternally, and said,
+"Rosa, it is not lost on me, your fidelity to the dead.  As years
+roll on, and your deep wound first closes, then skins, then heals--"
+
+"Ah, let me die first--"
+
+"Time and nature will absolve you from that vow; but bless you for
+thinking this can never be.  Rosa, your folly of this day has made
+you my heir; so never let money tempt you, for you have enough, and
+will have more than enough when I go."
+
+He was as good as his word; altered his will next day, and made
+Rosa his residuary legatee.  When he had done this, foreseeing no
+fresh occasion for his services, he prepared for a long visit to
+Italy.  He was packing up his things to go there, when he received
+a line from Lady Cicely Treherne, asking him to call on her
+professionally.  As the lady's servant brought it, he sent back a
+line to say he no longer practised medicine, but would call on her
+as a friend in an hour's time.
+
+He found her reclining, the picture of lassitude.  "How good of you
+to come," she drawled.
+
+"What's the matter?" said he brusquely.
+
+"I wish to cawnsult you about myself.  I think if anybody can
+brighten me up, it is you.  I feel such a languaw--such a want of
+spirit; and I get palaa, and that is not desiwable."
+
+He examined her tongue and the white of her eye, and told her, in
+his blunt way, she ate and drank too much.
+
+"Excuse me, sir," said she stiffly.
+
+"I mean too often.  Now, let's see.  Cup of tea in bed, of a
+morning?"
+
+"Yaas."
+
+"Dinner at two?"
+
+"We call it luncheon."
+
+"Are you a ventriloquist?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then it is only your lips call it luncheon.  Your poor stomach,
+could it speak, would call it dinner.  Afternoon tea?"
+
+"Yaas."
+
+"At seven-thirty another dinner.  Tea after that.  Your afflicted
+stomach gets no rest.  You eat pastry?"
+
+"I confess it."
+
+"And sugar in a dozen forms?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"Well, sugar is poison to your temperament.  Now I'll set you up,
+if you can obey.  Give up your morning dram."
+
+"What dwam?"
+
+"Tea in bed, before eating.  Can't you see that is a dram?  Animal
+food twice a day.  No wine but a little claret and water; no
+pastry, no sweets, and play battledore with one of your male
+subjects."
+
+"Battledaw! won't a lady do for that?"
+
+"No: you would get talking, and not play ad sudorem."
+
+"Ad sudawem! what is that?"
+
+"In earnest."
+
+"And will sudawem and the west put me in better spiwits, and give
+me a tinge?"
+
+"It will incarnadine the lily, and make you the happiest young lady
+in England, as you are the best."
+
+"I should like to be much happier than I am good, if we could
+manage it among us."
+
+"We will manage it AMONG us; for if the diet allowed should not
+make you boisterously gay, I have a remedy behind, suited to your
+temperament.  I am old-fashioned, and believe in the temperaments."
+
+"And what is that wemedy?"
+
+"Try diet, and hard exercise, first."
+
+"Oh, yes; but let me know that wemedy."
+
+"I warn you it is what we call in medicine an heroic one."
+
+"Never mind.  I am despewate."
+
+"Well, then, the heroic remedy--to be used only as a desperate
+resort, mind--you must marry an Irishman."
+
+This took the lady's breath away.
+
+"Mawwy a nice man?"
+
+"A nice man; no.  That means a fool.  Marry scientifically--a
+precaution eternally neglected.  Marry a Hibernian gentleman, a
+being as mercurial as you are lymphatic."
+
+"Mercurial!--lymphatic!"--
+
+"Oh, hard words break no bones, ma'am."
+
+"No, sir.  And it is very curious.  No, I won't tell you.  Yes, I
+will.  Hem I--I think I have noticed one."
+
+"One what?"
+
+"One Iwishman--dangling after me."
+
+"Then your ladyship has only to tighten the cord--and HE'S done
+for."
+
+Having administered this prescription, our laughing philosopher
+went off to Italy, and there fell in with some countrymen to his
+mind, so he accompanied them to Egypt and Palestine.
+
+His absence, and Lord Tadcaster's, made Rosa Staines's life
+extremely monotonous.  Day followed day, and week followed week,
+each so unvarying, that, on a retrospect, three months seemed like
+one day.
+
+And I think at last youth and nature began to rebel, and secretly
+to crave some little change or incident to ruffle the stagnant
+pool.  Yet she would not go into society, and would only receive
+two or three dull people at the villa; so she made the very
+monotony which was beginning to tire her, and nursed a sacred grief
+she had no need to nurse, it was so truly genuine.
+
+She was in this forlorn condition, when, one morning, a carriage
+drove to the door, and a card was brought up to her--"Mr. Reginald
+Falcon."
+
+Falcon's history, between this and our last advices, is soon
+disposed of.
+
+When, after a little struggle with his better angel, he rode past
+his wife's gate, he intended, at first, only to go to Cape Town,
+sell the diamonds, have a lark, and bring home the balance: but, as
+he rode south, his views expanded.  He could have ten times the fun
+in London, and cheaper; since he could sell the diamonds for more
+money, and also conceal the true price.  This was the Bohemian's
+whole mind in the business.  He had no designs whatever on Mrs.
+Staines, nor did he intend to steal the diamonds, but to embezzle a
+portion of the purchase-money, and enjoy the pleasures and vices of
+the capital for a few months; then back to his milch cow, Phoebe,
+and lead a quiet life till the next uncontrollable fit should come
+upon him along with the means of satisfying it.
+
+On the way, he read Staines's letter to Mrs. Falcon, very
+carefully.  He never broke the seal of the letter to Mrs. Staines.
+That was to be given her when he had broken the good news to her;
+and this he determined to do with such skill, as should make Dr.
+Staines very unwilling to look suspiciously or ill-naturedly into
+money accounts.
+
+He reached London; and being a thorough egotist, attended first to
+his own interests; he never went near Mrs. Staines until he had
+visited every diamond merchant and dealer in the metropolis; he
+showed the small stones to them all but he showed no more than one
+large stone to each.
+
+At last he got an offer of twelve hundred pounds for the small
+stones, and the same for the large yellow stone, and nine hundred
+pounds for the second largest stone.  He took this nine hundred
+pounds, and instantly wrote to Phoebe, telling her he had a sudden
+inspiration to bring the diamonds to England, which he could not
+regret, since he had never done a wiser thing.  He had sold a
+single stone for eight hundred pounds, and had sent the doctor's
+four hundred pounds to her account in Cape Town; and as each sale
+was effected, the half would be so remitted.  She would see by
+that, he was wiser than in former days.  He should only stay so
+long as might be necessary to sell them all equally well.  His own
+share he would apply to paying off mortgages on the family estate,
+of which he hoped some day to see her the mistress, or he would
+send it direct to her, whichever she might prefer.
+
+Now the main object of this artful letter was to keep Phoebe quiet,
+and not have her coming after him, of which he felt she was very
+capable.
+
+The money got safe to Cape Town, but the letter to Phoebe
+miscarried.  How this happened was never positively known; but the
+servant of the lodging-house was afterwards detected cutting stamps
+off a letter; so perhaps she had played that game on this occasion.
+
+By this means, matters took a curious turn.  Falcon, intending to
+lull his wife into a false security, lulled himself into that state
+instead.
+
+When he had taken care of himself, and got five hundred pounds to
+play the fool with, then he condescended to remember his errand of
+mercy; and he came down to Gravesend, to see Mrs. Staines.
+
+On the road, he gave his mind seriously to the delicate and
+dangerous task.  It did not, however, disquiet him as it would you,
+sir, or you, madam.  He had a great advantage over you.  He was a
+liar--a smooth, ready, accomplished liar--and he knew it.
+
+This was the outline he had traced in his mind: he should appear
+very subdued and sad; should wear an air of condolence.  But, after
+a while, should say, "And yet men have been lost like that, and
+escaped.  A man was picked up on a raft in those very latitudes,
+and brought into Cape Town.  A friend of mine saw him, months
+after, at the hospital.  His memory was shaken--could not tell his
+name; but in other respects he was all right again."
+
+If Mrs. Staines took fire at this, he would say his friend knew all
+the particulars, and he would ask him, and so leave that to rankle
+till next visit.  And having planted his germ of hope, he would
+grow it, and water it, by visits and correspondence, till he could
+throw off the mask, and say he was convinced Staines was alive: and
+from that, by other degrees, till he could say, on his wife's
+authority, that the man picked up at sea, and cured at her house,
+was the very physician who had saved her brother's life: and so on
+to the overwhelming proof he carried in the ruby ring and the letter.
+
+I am afraid the cunning and dexterity, the subtlety and tact
+required, interested him more in the commission than did the
+benevolence.  He called, sent up his card, and composed his
+countenance for his part, like an actor at the Wing.
+
+"Not at home."
+
+He stared with amazement.
+
+The history of a "Not at home" is not, in general, worth recording:
+but this is an exception.
+
+On receiving Falcon's card, Mrs. Staines gave a little start, and
+colored faintly.  She instantly resolved not to see him.  What! the
+man she had flirted with, almost jilted, and refused to marry--he
+dared to be alive when her Christopher was dead, and had come there
+to show her HE was alive!
+
+She said "Not at home" with a tone of unusual sharpness and
+decision, which left the servant in no doubt he must be equally
+decided at the hall door.
+
+Falcon received the sudden freezer with amazement.  "Nonsense,"
+said he.  "Not at home at this time of the morning--to an old
+friend!"
+
+"Not at home," said the man doggedly.
+
+"Oh, very well," said Falcon with a bitter sneer, and returned to
+London.
+
+He felt sure she was at home; and being a tremendous egotist, he
+said, "Oh! all right.  If she would rather not know her husband is
+alive, it is all one to me;" and he actually took no more notice of
+her for a full week, and never thought of her, except to chuckle
+over the penalty she was paying for daring to affront his vanity.
+
+However, Sunday came; he saw a dull day before him, and so he
+relented, and thought he would give her another trial.
+
+He went down to Gravesend by boat, and strolled towards the villa.
+
+When he was about a hundred yards from the villa, a lady, all in
+black, came out with a nurse and child.
+
+Falcon knew her figure all that way off, and it gave him a curious
+thrill that surprised him.  He followed her, and was not very far
+behind her when she reached the church.  She turned at the porch,
+kissed the child earnestly, and gave the nurse some directions;
+then entered the church.
+
+"Come," said Falcon, "I'll have a look at her, any way."
+
+He went into the church, and walked up a side aisle to a pillar,
+from which he thought he might be able to see the whole
+congregation; and, sure enough, there she sat, a few yards from
+him.  She was lovelier than ever.  Mind had grown on her face with
+trouble.  An angelic expression illuminated her beauty; he gazed on
+her, fascinated.  He drank and drank her beauty two mortal hours,
+and when the church broke up, and she went home, he was half afraid
+to follow her, for he felt how hard it would be to say anything to
+her but that the old love had returned on him with double force.
+
+However, having watched her home, he walked slowly to and fro
+composing himself for the interview.
+
+He now determined to make the process of informing her a very long
+one: he would spin it out, and so secure many a sweet interview
+with her: and, who knows? he might fascinate her as she had him,
+and ripen gratitude into love, as he understood that word.
+
+He called, he sent in his card.  The man went in, and came back
+with a sonorous "Not at home."
+
+"Not at home? nonsense.  Why, she is just come in from church."
+
+"Not at home," said the man, evidently strong in his instructions.
+
+Falcon turned white with rage at this second affront.  "All the
+worse for her," said he, and turned on his heel.
+
+He went home, raging with disappointment and wounded vanity, and--
+since such love as his is seldom very far from hate--he swore she
+should never know from him that her husband was alive.  He even
+moralized.  "This comes of being so unselfish," said he.  "I'll
+give that game up forever."
+
+By and by, a mere negative revenge was not enough for him, and he
+set his wits to work to make her smart.
+
+He wrote to her from his lodgings:--
+
+
+DEAR MADAM,--What a pity you are never at home to me.  I had
+something to say about your husband, that I thought might interest
+you.
+
+Yours truly,
+
+R. FALCON.
+
+
+Imagine the effect of this abominable note.  It was like a rock
+flung into a placid pool.  It set Rosa trembling all over.  What
+could he mean?
+
+She ran with it to her father, and asked him what Mr. Falcon could
+mean.
+
+"I have no idea," said he.  "You had better ask him, not me."
+
+"I am afraid it is only to get to see me.  You know he admired me
+once.  Ah, how suspicious I am getting."
+
+Rosa wrote to Falcon:--
+
+
+DEAR SIR,--Since my bereavement I see scarcely anybody.  My servant
+did not know you; so I hope you will excuse me.  If it is too much
+trouble to call again, would you kindly explain your note to me?
+
+Yours respectfully,
+
+ROSA STAINES.
+
+
+Falcon chuckled bitterly over this.  "No, my lady," said he.  "I'll
+serve you out.  You shall run after me like a little dog.  I have
+got the bone that will draw you."
+
+He wrote back coldly to say that the matter he had wished to
+communicate was too delicate and important to put on paper; that he
+would try and get down to Gravesend again some day or other, but
+was much occupied, and had already put himself to inconvenience.
+He added, in a postscript, that he was always at home from four to
+five.
+
+Next day he got hold of the servant, and gave her minute
+instructions, and a guinea.
+
+Then the wretch got some tools and bored a hole in the partition
+wall of his sitting-room.  The paper had large flowers.  He was
+artist enough to conceal the trick with water-colors.  In his bed-
+room the hole came behind the curtains.
+
+That very afternoon, as he had foreseen, Mrs. Staines called on
+him.  The maid, duly instructed, said Mr. Falcon was out, but would
+soon return, and could she wait his return?  The maid being so very
+civil, Mrs. Staines said she would wait a little while, and was
+immediately ushered into Falcon's sitting-room.  There she sat
+down; but was evidently ill at ease, restless, flushed.  She could
+not sit quiet, and at last began to walk up and down the room,
+almost wildly.  Her beautiful eyes glittered, and the whole woman
+seemed on fire.  The caitiff, who was watching her, saw and gloated
+on all this, and enjoyed to the full her beauty and agitation, and
+his revenge for her "Not at homes."
+
+But after a long time, there was a reaction: she sat down and
+uttered some plaintive sounds inarticulate, or nearly; and at last
+she began to cry.
+
+Then it cost Falcon an effort not to come in and comfort her; but
+he controlled himself and kept quiet.
+
+She rang the bell.  She asked for writing paper, and she wrote her
+unseen tormentor a humble note, begging him, for old acquaintance,
+to call on her, and tell her what his mysterious words meant that
+had filled her with agitation.
+
+This done, she went away, with a deep sigh, and Falcon emerged, and
+pounced upon her letter.
+
+He kissed it; he read it a dozen times: he sat down where she had
+sat, and his base passion overpowered him.  Her beauty, her
+agitation, her fear, her tears, all combined to madden him, and do
+the devil's work in his false, selfish heart, so open to violent
+passions, so dead to conscience.
+
+For once in his life he was violently agitated, and torn by
+conflicting feelings: he walked about the room more wildly than his
+victim had; and if it be true that, in certain great temptations,
+good and bad angels fight for a man, here you might have seen as
+fierce a battle of that kind as ever was.
+
+At last he rushed out into the air, and did not return till ten
+o'clock at night.  He came back pale and haggard, and with a look
+of crime upon his face.
+
+True Bohemian as he was, he sent for a pint of brandy.
+
+So then the die was cast, and something was to be done that called
+for brandy.
+
+He bolted himself in, and drank a wine-glass of it neat; then
+another; then another.
+
+Now his pale cheek is flushed, and his eye glitters.  Drink
+forever! great ruin of English souls as well as bodies.
+
+He put the poker in the fire, and heated it red hot.
+
+He brought Staines's letter, and softened the sealing-wax with the
+hot poker; then with his pen-knife made a neat incision in the wax,
+and opened the letter.  He took out the ring, and put it carefully
+away.  Then he lighted a cigar, and read the letter, and studied
+it.  Many a man, capable of murder in heat of passion, could not
+have resisted the pathos of this letter.  Many a Newgate thief,
+after reading it, would have felt such pity for the loving husband
+who had suffered to the verge of death, and then to the brink of
+madness, and for the poor bereaved wife, that he would have taken
+the letter down to Gravesend that very night, though he picked two
+fresh pockets to defray the expenses of the road.
+
+But this was an egotist.  Good nature had curbed his egotism a
+little while; but now vanity and passion had swept away all
+unselfish feelings, and the pure egotist alone remained.
+
+Now, the pure egotist has been defined as a man who will burn down
+his NEIGHBOR'S house to cook HIMSELF an egg.  Murder is but egotism
+carried out to its natural climax.  What is murder to a pure
+egotist, especially a brandied one?
+
+I knew an egotist who met a female acquaintance in Newhaven
+village.  She had a one-pound note, and offered to treat him.  She
+changed this note to treat him.  Fish she gave him, and much
+whiskey.  Cost her four shillings.  He ate and drank with her, at
+her expense; and his aorta, or principal blood-vessel, being warmed
+with her whiskey, he murdered her for the change, the odd sixteen
+shillings.
+
+I had the pleasure of seeing that egotist hung, with these eyes.
+It was a slice of luck that, I grieve to say, has not occurred
+again to me.
+
+So much for a whiskied egotist.
+
+His less truculent but equally remorseless brother in villany, the
+brandied egotist, Falcon, could read that poor husband's letter
+without blenching; the love and the anticipations of rapture, these
+made him writhe a little with jealousy, but they roused not a grain
+of pity.  He was a true egotist, blind, remorseless.
+
+In this, his true character, he studied the letter profoundly, and
+mastered all the facts, and digested them well.
+
+All manner of diabolical artifices presented themselves to his
+brain, barren of true intellect, yet fertile in fraud; in that, and
+all low cunning and subtlety, far more than a match for Solomon or
+Bacon.
+
+His sinister studies were pursued far into the night.  Then he went
+to bed, and his unbounded egotism gave him the sleep a grander
+criminal would have courted in vain on the verge of a monstrous and
+deliberate crime.
+
+Next day he went to a fashionable tailor, and ordered a complete
+suit of black.  This was made in forty-eight hours; the interval
+was spent mainly in concocting lies to be incorporated with the
+number of minute facts he had gained from Staines's letter, and in
+making close imitations of his handwriting.
+
+Thus armed, and crammed with more lies than the "Menteur" of
+Corneille, but not such innocent ones, he went down to Gravesend,
+all in deep mourning, with crape round his hat.
+
+He presented himself at the villa.
+
+The servant was all obsequiousness.  Yes, Mrs. Staines received few
+visitors; but she was at home to HIM.  He even began to falter
+excuses.  "Nonsense," said Falcon, and slipped a sovereign into his
+hand; "you are a good servant, and obey orders."
+
+The servant's respect doubled, and he ushered the visitor into the
+drawing-room, as one whose name was a passport.  "Mr. Reginald
+Falcon, madam."
+
+Mrs. Staines was alone.  She rose to meet him.  Her color came and
+went, her full eye fell on him, and took in all at a glance--that
+he was all in black, and that he had a beard, and looked pale, and
+ill at ease.
+
+Little dreaming that this was the anxiety of a felon about to take
+the actual plunge into a novel crime, she was rather prepossessed
+by it.  The beard gave him dignity, and hid his mean, cruel mouth.
+His black suit seemed to say he, too, had lost some one dear to
+him; and that was a ground of sympathy.
+
+She received him kindly, and thanked him for taking the trouble to
+come again.  She begged him to be seated; and then, womanlike, she
+waited for him to explain.
+
+But he was in no hurry, and waited for her.  He knew she would
+speak if he was silent.
+
+She could not keep him waiting long.  "Mr. Falcon," said she,
+hesitating a little, "you have something to say to me about him I
+have lost."
+
+"Yes," said he softly.  "I have something I could say, and I think
+I ought to say it; but I am afraid: because I don't know what will
+be the result.  I fear to make you more unhappy."
+
+"Me! more unhappy?  Me, whose dear husband lies at the bottom of
+the ocean.  Other poor wounded creatures have the wretched comfort
+of knowing where he lies--of carrying flowers to his tomb.  But I--
+oh, Mr. Falcon, I am bereaved of all: even his poor remains lost,--
+lost"--she could say no more.
+
+Then that craven heart began to quake at what he was doing; quaked,
+yet persevered; but his own voice quivered, and his cheek grew ashy
+pale.  No wonder.  If ever God condescended to pour lightning on a
+skunk, surely now was the time.
+
+Shaking and sweating with terror at his own act, he stammered out,
+"Would it be the least comfort to you to know that you are not
+denied that poor consolation?  Suppose he died not so miserably as
+you think?  Suppose he was picked up at sea, in a dying state?"
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"Suppose he lingered, nursed by kind and sympathizing hands, that
+almost saved him?  Suppose he was laid in hallowed ground, and a
+great many tears shed over his grave?"
+
+"Ah, that would indeed be a comfort.  And it was to say this you
+came.  I thank you.  I bless you.  But, my good, kind friend, you
+are deceived.  You don't know my husband.  You never saw him.  He
+perished at sea."
+
+"Will it be kind or unkind, to tell you why I think he died as I
+tell you, and not at sea?"
+
+"Kind, but impossible.  You deceive yourself.  Ah, I see.  You
+found some poor sufferer, and were good to him; but it was not my
+poor Christie.  Oh, if it were, I should worship you.  But I thank
+you as it is.  It was very kind to want to give me this little,
+little crumb of comfort; for I know I did not behave well to you,
+sir: but you are generous, and have forgiven a poor heart-broken
+creature, that never was very wise."
+
+He gave her time to cry, and then said to her, "I only wanted to be
+sure it WOULD be any comfort to you.  Mrs. Staines, it is true I
+did not even know his name; nor yours.  When I met, in this very
+room, the great disappointment that has saddened my own life, I
+left England directly.  I collected funds, went to Natal, and
+turned land-owner and farmer.  I have made a large fortune, but I
+need not tell you I am not happy.  Well, I had a yacht, and sailing
+from Cape Town to Algoa Bay, I picked up a raft, with a dying man
+on it.  He was perishing from exhaustion and exposure.  I got a
+little brandy between his lips, and kept him alive.  I landed with
+him at once: and we nursed him on shore.  We had to be very
+cautious.  He improved.  We got him to take egg-flip.  He smiled on
+us at first, and then he thanked us.  I nursed him day and night
+for ten days.  He got much stronger.  He spoke to me, thanked me
+again and again, and told me his name was Christopher Staines.  He
+told me that he should never get well.  I implored him to have
+courage.  He said he did not want for courage; but nature had been
+tried too hard.  We got so fond of each other.  Oh!"--and the
+caitiff pretended to break down; and his feigned grief mingled with
+Rosa's despairing sobs.
+
+He made an apparent effort, and said, "He spoke to me of his wife,
+his darling Rosa.  The name made me start, but I could not know it
+was you.  At last he was strong enough to write a few lines, and he
+made me promise to take them to his wife."
+
+"Ah!" said Rosa.  "Show them me."
+
+"I will."
+
+"This moment."  And her hands began to work convulsively.
+
+"I cannot," said Falcon.  "I have not brought them with me."
+
+Rosa cast a keen eye of suspicion and terror on him.  His not
+bringing the letter seemed monstrous; and so indeed it was.  The
+fact is, the letter was not written.
+
+Falcon affected not to notice her keen look.  He flowed on, "The
+address he put on that letter astonished me.  'Kent Villa.'  Of
+course I knew Kent Villa: and he called you 'Rosa.'"
+
+"How could you come to me without that letter?" cried Rosa,
+wringing her hands.  "How am I to know?  It is all so strange, so
+incredible."
+
+"Don't you believe me?" said Falcon sadly.  "Why should I deceive
+you?  The first time I came down to tell you all this, I did not
+KNOW who Mrs. Staines was.  I suspected; but no more.  The second
+time I saw you in the church, and then I knew; and followed you to
+try and tell you all this; and you were not at home to me."
+
+"Forgive me," said Rosa carelessly: then earnestly, "The letter!
+when can I see it?"
+
+"I will send, or bring it."
+
+"Bring it! I am in agony till I see it.  Oh, my darling! my
+darling!  It can't be true.  It was not my Christie.  He lies in
+the depths of the ocean.  Lord Tadcaster was in the ship, and he
+says so; everybody says so."
+
+"And I say he sleeps in hallowed ground, and these hands laid him
+there."
+
+Rosa lifted her hands to heaven, and cried piteously, "I don't know
+what to think.  You would not willingly deceive me.  But how can
+this be?  Oh, Uncle Philip, why are you away from me?  Sir, you say
+he gave you a letter?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh, why, why did you not bring it?"
+
+"Because he told me the contents; and I thought he prized my poor
+efforts too highly.  It did not occur to me you would doubt my
+word."
+
+"Oh, no: no more I do: but I fear it was not my Christie."
+
+"I'll go for the letter at once, Mrs. Staines."
+
+"Oh, thank you!  Bless you!  Yes, this minute!"
+
+The artful rogue did not go; never intended.
+
+He rose TO GO; but had a sudden inspiration; very sudden, of
+course.  "Had he nothing about him you could recognize him by?"
+
+"Yes, he had a ring I gave him."
+
+Falcon took a black-edged envelope out of his pocket.
+
+"A ruby ring," said she, beginning to tremble at his quiet action.
+
+"Is that it?" and he handed her a ruby ring.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+
+Mrs. Staines uttered a sharp cry and seized the ring.  Her eyes
+dilated over it, and she began to tremble in every limb; and at
+last she sank slowly back, and her head fell on one side like a
+broken lily.  The sudden sight of the ring overpowered her almost
+to fainting.
+
+Falcon rose to call for assistance; but she made him a feeble
+motion not to do so.
+
+She got the better of her faintness, and then she fell to kissing
+the ring, in an agony of love, and wept over it, and still held it,
+and gazed at it through her blinding tears.
+
+Falcon eyed her uneasily.
+
+But he soon found he had nothing to fear.  For a long time she
+seemed scarcely aware of his presence; and when she noticed him, it
+was to thank him, almost passionately.
+
+"It was my Christie you were so good to: may Heaven bless you for
+it: and you will bring me his letter, will you not?"
+
+"Of course I will."
+
+"Oh, do not go yet.  It is all so strange: so sad.  I seem to have
+lost my poor Christie again, since he did not die at sea.  But no,
+I am ungrateful to God, and ungrateful to the kind friend that
+nursed him to the last.  Ah, I envy you that.  Tell me all.  Never
+mind my crying.  I have seen the time I could not cry.  It was
+worse then than now.  I shall always cry when I speak of him, ay,
+to my dying day.  Tell me, tell me all."
+
+Her passion frightened the egotist, but did not turn him.  He had
+gone too far.  He told her that, after raising all their hopes, Dr.
+Staines had suddenly changed for the worse, and sunk rapidly; that
+his last words had been about her, and he had said, "My poor Rosa,
+who will protect her?"  That, to comfort him, he had said he would
+protect her.  Then the dying man had managed to write a line or
+two, and to address it.  Almost his last words had been, "Be a
+father to my child."
+
+"That is strange."
+
+"You have no child?  Then it must have been you he meant.  He spoke
+of you as a child more than once."
+
+"Mr. Falcon, I have a child; but born since I lost my poor child's
+father."
+
+"Then I think he knew it.  They say that dying men can see all over
+the world: and I remember, when he said it, his eyes seemed fixed
+very strangely, as if on something distant.  Oh, how wonderful all
+this is.  May I see his child, to whom I promised"--
+
+The artist in lies left his sentence half completed.
+
+Rosa rang, and sent for her little boy.
+
+Mr. Falcon admired his beauty, and said quietly, "I shall keep my
+vow."
+
+He then left her, with a promise to come back early next morning
+with the letter.
+
+She let him go only on those conditions.
+
+As soon as her father came in, she ran to him with this strange
+story.
+
+"I don't believe it," said he.  "It is impossible."
+
+She showed him the proof, the ruby ring.
+
+Then he became very uneasy, and begged her not to tell a soul.  He
+did not tell her the reason, but he feared the insurance office
+would hear of it, and require proofs of Christopher's decease,
+whereas they had accepted it without a murmur, on the evidence of
+Captain Hamilton and the Amphitrite's log-book.
+
+As for Falcon, he went carefully through Staines's two letters, and
+wherever he found a word that suited his purpose, he traced it by
+the usual process, and so, in the course of a few hours, he
+concocted a short letter, all the words in which, except three,
+were facsimiles, only here and there a little shaky; the three odd
+words he had to imitate by observation of the letters.  The
+signature he got to perfection by tracing.
+
+He inserted this letter in the original envelope, and sealed it
+very carefully, so as to hide that the seal had been tampered with.
+
+Thus armed, he went down to Gravesend.  There he hired a horse and
+rode to Kent Villa.
+
+Why he hired a horse, he knew how hard it is to forge handwriting,
+and he chose to have the means of escape at hand.
+
+He came into the drawing-room, ghastly pale, and almost immediately
+gave her the letter; then turned his back, feigning delicacy.  In
+reality he was quaking with fear lest she should suspect the
+handwriting.  But the envelope was addressed by Staines, and paved
+the way for the letter; she was unsuspicious and good, and her
+heart cried out for her husband's last written words: at such a
+moment, what chance had judgment and suspicion in an innocent and
+loving soul?
+
+Her eloquent sighs and sobs soon told the caitiff he had nothing to
+fear.
+
+The letter ran thus:--
+
+
+MY OWN ROSA,--All that a brother could do for a beloved brother,
+Falcon has done.  He nursed me night and day.  But it is vain.  I
+shall never see you again in this world.  I send you a protector,
+and a father to your child.  Value him.  He has promised to be your
+stay on earth, and my spirit shall watch over you.--To my last
+breath, your loving husband,
+
+CHRISTOPHER STAINES.
+
+
+Falcon rose, and began to steal on tiptoe out of the room.
+
+Rosa stopped him.  "You need not go," said she.  "You are our
+friend.  By and by I hope I shall find words to thank you."
+
+"Pray let me retire a moment," said the hypocrite.  "A husband's
+last words: too sacred--a stranger:" and he went out into the
+garden.  There he found the nursemaid Emily, and the little boy.
+
+He stopped the child, and made love to the nursemaid; showed her
+his diamonds--he carried them all about him--told her he had thirty
+thousand acres in Cape Colony, and diamonds on them; and was going
+to buy thirty thousand more of the government.  "Here, take one,"
+said he.  "Oh, you needn't be shy.  They are common enough on my
+estates.  I'll tell you what, though, you could not buy that for
+less than thirty pounds at any shop in London.  Could she, my
+little duck?  Never mind, it is no brighter than her eyes.  Now do
+you know what she will do with that, Master Christie?  She will
+give it to some duffer to put in a pin."
+
+"She won't do nothing of the kind," said Emily, flushing all over.
+"She is not such a fool."  She then volunteered to tell him she had
+no sweetheart, and did not trouble her head about young men at all.
+He interpreted this to mean she was looking out for one.  So do I.
+
+"No sweetheart!" said he; "and the prettiest girl I have seen since
+I landed: then I put in for the situation."
+
+Here, seeing the footman coming, he bestowed a most paternal kiss
+on little Christie, and saying, "Not a word to John, or no more
+diamonds from me;" he moved carefully away, leaving the girl all in
+a flutter with extravagant hopes.
+
+The next moment this wolf in the sheep-fold entered the drawing-
+room.  Mrs. Staines was not there.  He waited, and waited, and
+began to get rather uneasy, as men will who walk among pitfalls.
+
+Presently the footman came to say that Mrs. Staines was with her
+father, in his study, but she would come to him in five minutes.
+
+This increased his anxiety.  What!  She was taking advice of an
+older head.  He began to be very seriously alarmed, and, indeed,
+had pretty well made up his mind to go down and gallop off, when
+the door opened, and Rosa came hastily in.  Her eyes were very red
+with weeping.  She came to him with both hands extended to him; he
+gave her his, timidly.  She pressed them with such earnestness and
+power as he could not have suspected; and thanked him, and blessed
+him, with such a torrent of eloquence, that he hung his head with
+shame; and, being unable to face it out, villain as he was, yet
+still artful to the core, he pretended to burst out crying, and ran
+out of the room, and rode away.
+
+He waited two days, and then called again.  Rosa reproached him
+sweetly for going before she had half thanked him.
+
+"All the better," said he.  "I have been thanked a great deal too
+much already.  Who would not do his best for a dying countryman,
+and fight night and day to save him for his wife and child at home?
+If I had succeeded, then I would be greedy of praise: but now it
+makes me blush; it makes me very sad."
+
+"You did your best," said Rosa tearfully.
+
+"Ah! that I did.  Indeed, I was ill for weeks after, myself,
+through the strain upon my mind, and the disappointment, and going
+so many nights without sleep.  But don't let us talk of that."
+
+"Do you know what my darling says to me in my letter?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Would you like to see it?"
+
+"Indeed I should; but I have no right."
+
+"Every right.  It is the only mark of esteem, worth anything, I can
+show you."
+
+She handed him the letter, and buried her own face in her hands.
+
+He read it, and acted the deepest emotion.
+
+He handed it back, without a word.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+
+From this time Falcon was always welcome at Kent Villa.  He
+fascinated everybody in the house.  He renewed his acquaintance
+with Mr. Lusignan, and got asked to stay a week in the house.  He
+showed Rosa and her father the diamonds, and, the truth must be
+owned, they made Rosa's eyes sparkle for the first time this
+eighteen months.  He insinuated rather than declared his enormous
+wealth.
+
+In reply to the old man's eager questions, as the large diamonds
+lay glittering on the table, and pointed every word, he said that a
+few of his Hottentots had found these for him; he had made them dig
+on a diamondiferous part of his estate, just by way of testing the
+matter; and this was the result; this, and a much larger stone, for
+which he had received eight thousand pounds from Posno.
+
+"If I was a young man," said Lusignan, "I would go out directly,
+and dig on your estate."
+
+"I would not let you do anything so paltry," said "le Menteur."
+"Why, my dear sir, there are no fortunes to be made by grubbing for
+diamonds; the fortunes are made out of the diamonds, but not in
+that way.  Now, I have thirty thousand acres, and am just
+concluding a bargain for thirty thousand more, on which I happen to
+know there are diamonds in a sly corner.  Well, of my thirty
+thousand tried acres, a hundred only are diamondiferous.  But I
+have four thousand thirty-foot claims leased at ten shillings per
+month.  Count that up."
+
+"Why, it is twenty-four thousand pounds a year."
+
+"Excuse me: you must deduct a thousand a year for the expenses of
+collection.  But this is only one phase of the business.  I have a
+large inn upon each of the three great routes from the diamonds to
+the coast; and these inns are supplied with the produce of my own
+farms.  Mark the effect of the diamonds on property.  My sixty
+thousand acres, which are not diamondiferous, will very soon be
+worth as much as sixty thousand English acres, say two pounds the
+acre per annum.  That is under the mark, because in Africa the land
+is not burdened with poor-rates, tithes, and all the other
+iniquities that crush the English land-owner, as I know to my cost.
+But that is not all, sir.  Would you believe it? even after the
+diamonds were declared, the people out there had so little
+foresight that they allowed me to buy land all round Port
+Elizabeth, Natal, and Cape Town, the three ports through which the
+world get at the diamonds, and the diamonds get at the world.  I
+have got a girdle of land round those three outlets, bought by the
+acre; in two years I shall sell it by the yard.  Believe me, sir,
+English fortunes, even the largest, are mere child's play, compared
+with the colossal wealth a man can accumulate, if he looks beyond
+these great discoveries to their consequences, and lets others grub
+for him.  But what is the use of it all to me?" said this Bohemian,
+with a sigh.  "I have no taste for luxuries; no love of display.  I
+have not even charity to dispense on a large scale; for there are
+no deserving poor out there; and the poverty that springs from
+vice, that I never will encourage."
+
+John heard nearly all this, and took it into the kitchen; and
+henceforth Adoration was the only word for this prince of men, this
+rare combination of the Adonis and the millionnaire.
+
+He seldom held such discourses before Rosa; but talked her father
+into an impression of his boundless wealth, and half reconciled him
+to Rosa's refusal of Lord Tadcaster, since here was an old suitor,
+who, doubtless, with a little encouragement, would soon come on
+again.
+
+Under this impression, Mr. Lusignan gave Falcon more than a little
+encouragement, and, as Rosa did not resist, he became a constant
+visitor at the villa, and was always there from Saturday to Monday.
+
+He exerted all his art of pleasing, and he succeeded.  He was
+welcome to Rosa, and she made no secret of it.
+
+Emily threw herself in his way, and had many a sly talk with him,
+while he was pretending to be engaged with young Christie.  He
+flattered her, and made her sweet on him, but was too much in love
+with Rosa, after his fashion, to flirt seriously with her.  He
+thought he might want her services: so he worked upon her after
+this fashion; asked her if she would like to keep an inn.
+
+"Wouldn't I just?" said she frankly.
+
+Then he told her that, if all went to his wish in England, she
+should be landlady of one of his inns in the Cape Colony.  "And you
+will get a good husband out there directly," said he.  "Beauty is a
+very uncommon thing in those parts.  But I shall ask you to marry
+somebody who can help you in the business--or not to marry at all."
+
+"I wish I had the inn," said Emily.  "Husbands are soon got when a
+girl hasn't her face only to look to."
+
+"Well, I promise you the inn," said he, "and a good outfit of
+clothes, and money in both pockets, if you will do me a good turn
+here in England."
+
+"That I would, sir.  But, laws, what can a poor girl like me do for
+a rich gentleman like you?"
+
+"Can you keep a secret, Emily?"
+
+"Nobody better.  You try me, sir."
+
+He looked at her well; saw she was one of those who could keep a
+secret, if she chose, and he resolved to risk it.
+
+"Emily, my girl," said he sadly, "I am an unhappy man."
+
+"You, sir!  Why, you didn't ought to be."
+
+"I am then.  I am in love; and cannot win her."
+
+Then he told the girl a pretty tender tale, that he had loved Mrs.
+Staines when she was Miss Lusignan, had thought himself beloved in
+turn, but was rejected; and now, though she was a widow, he had not
+the courage to court her, her heart was in the grave.  He spoke in
+such a broken voice that the girl's good-nature fought against her
+little pique at finding how little he was smitten with HER, and
+Falcon soon found means to array her cupidity on the side of her
+good-nature.  He gave her a five-pound note to buy gloves, and
+promised her a fortune, and she undertook to be secret as the
+grave, and say certain things adroitly to Mrs. Staines.
+
+Accordingly, this young woman omitted no opportunity of dropping a
+word in favor of Falcon.  For one thing, she said to Mrs. Staines,
+"Mr. Falcon must be very fond of children, ma'am.  Why, he worships
+Master Christie."
+
+"Indeed!  I have not observed that."
+
+"Why, no, ma'am.  He is rather shy over it; but when he sees us
+alone, he is sure to come to us, and say, 'Let me look at my child,
+nurse;' and he do seem fit to eat him.  Onst he says to me, 'This
+boy is my heir, nurse.'  What did he mean by that, ma'am?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Is he any kin to you, ma'am?"
+
+"None whatever.  You must have misunderstood him.  You should not
+repeat all that people say."
+
+"No, ma'am; only I did think it so odd.  Poor gentleman, I don't
+think he is happy, for all his money."
+
+"He is too good to be unhappy all his life."
+
+"So I think, ma'am."
+
+These conversations were always short, for Rosa, though she was too
+kind and gentle to snub the girl, was also too delicate to give the
+least encouragement to her gossip.
+
+But Rosa's was a mind that could be worked upon, and these short
+but repeated eulogies were not altogether without effect.
+
+At last the insidious Falcon, by not making his approaches in a way
+to alarm her, acquired her friendship as well as her gratitude;
+and, in short, she got used to him and liked him.  Not being bound
+by any limit of fact whatever, he entertained her, and took her out
+of herself a little by extemporaneous pictures; he told her all his
+thrilling adventures by flood and field, not one of which had ever
+occurred, yet he made them all sound like truth; he invented
+strange characters, and set them talking; he went after great
+whales, and harpooned one, which slapped his boat into fragments
+with one stroke of its tail; then died, and he hung on by the
+harpoon protruding from the carcass till a ship came and picked him
+up.  He shot a lion that was carrying off his favorite Hottentot.
+He encountered another, wounded him with both barrels, was seized,
+and dragged along the ground, and gave himself up for lost, but
+kept firing his revolver down the monster's throat till at last he
+sickened him, and so escaped out of death's maw; he did NOT say how
+he had fired in the air, and ridden fourteen miles on end, at the
+bare sight of a lion's cub; but, to compensate that one reserve,
+plunged into a raging torrent and saved a drowning woman by her
+long hair, which he caught in his teeth; he rode a race on an
+ostrich against a friend on a zebra, which went faster, but threw
+his rider, and screamed with rage at not being able to eat him; he,
+Falcon, having declined to run unless his friend's zebra was
+muzzled.  He fed the hungry, clothed the naked, and shot a wild
+elephant in the eye; and all this he enlivened with pictorial
+descriptions of no mean beauty, and as like South Africa as if it
+had been feu George Robins advertising that continent for sale.
+
+In short, never was there a more voluble and interesting liar by
+word of mouth, and never was there a more agreeable creature
+interposed between a bereaved widow and her daily grief and
+regrets.  He diverted her mind from herself, and did her good.
+
+At last, such was the charm of infinite lying, she missed him on
+the days he did not come, and was brighter when he did come and lie.
+
+Things went smoothly, and so pleasantly, that he would gladly have
+prolonged this form of courtship for a month or two longer, sooner
+than risk a premature declaration.  But more than one cause drove
+him to a bolder course; his passion, which increased in violence by
+contact with its beautiful object, and also a great uneasiness he
+felt at not hearing from Phoebe.  This silence was ominous.  He and
+she knew each other, and what the other was capable of.  He knew
+she was the woman to cross the seas after him, if Staines left the
+diggings, and any explanation took place that might point to his
+whereabouts.
+
+These double causes precipitated matters, and at last he began to
+throw more devotion into his manner; and having so prepared her for
+a few days, he took his opportunity and said, one day, "We are both
+unhappy.  Give me the right to console you."
+
+She colored high, and said, "You have consoled me more than all the
+world.  But there is a limit; always will be."
+
+One less adroit would have brought her to the point; but this
+artist only sighed, and let the arrow rankle.  By this means he
+out-fenced her; for now she had listened to a declaration and not
+stopped it short.
+
+He played melancholy for a day or two, and then he tried her
+another way.  He said, "I promised your dying husband to be your
+protector, and a father to his child.  I see but one way to keep my
+word, and that gives me courage to speak--without that I never
+could.  Rosa, I loved you years ago, I am unmarried for your sake.
+Let me be your husband, and a father to your child."
+
+Rosa shook her head.  "I COULD not marry again.  I esteem you, I am
+very grateful to you: and I know I behaved ill to you before.  If I
+could marry again, it would be you.  But I cannot.  Oh, never! never!"
+
+"Then we both are to be unhappy all our days."
+
+"I shall, as I ought to be.  You will not, I hope.  I shall miss
+you sadly; but, for all that, I advise you to leave me.  You will
+carry my everlasting gratitude, go where you will; that and my
+esteem are all I have to give."
+
+"I will go," said he; "and I hope he who is gone will forgive my
+want of courage."
+
+"He who is gone took my promise never to marry again."
+
+"Dying men see clearer.  I am sure he wished--no matter; it is too
+delicate."  He kissed her hand and went out, a picture of dejection.
+
+Mrs. Staines shed a tear for him.
+
+Nothing was heard of him for several days; and Rosa pitied him more
+and more, and felt a certain discontent with herself, and doubt
+whether she had done right.
+
+Matters were in this state, when one morning Emily came screaming
+in from the garden, "The child!--Master Christie!--Where is he?--
+Where is he?"
+
+The house was alarmed.  The garden searched, the adjoining paddock.
+The child was gone.
+
+Emily was examined, and owned, with many sobs and hysterical cries,
+that she had put him down in the summer-house for a minute, while
+she went to ask the gardener for some balm, balm tea being a
+favorite drink of hers.  "But there was nobody near that I saw,"
+she sobbed.
+
+Further inquiry proved, however, that a tall gypsy woman had been
+seen prowling about that morning; and suspicion instantly fastened
+on her.  Servants were sent out right and left; but nothing
+discovered; and the agonized mother, terrified out of her wits, had
+Falcon telegraphed to immediately.
+
+He came galloping down that very evening, and heard the story.  He
+galloped into Gravesend, and after seeing the police, sent word out
+he should advertise.  He placarded Gravesend with bills, offering a
+reward of a thousand pounds, the child to be brought to him, and no
+questions asked.
+
+Meantime the police and many of the neighboring gentry came about
+the miserable mother with their vague ideas.
+
+Down comes Falcon again next day; tells what he has done, and
+treats them all with contempt.  "Don't you be afraid, Mrs.
+Staines," said he.  "You will get him back.  I have taken the sure
+way.  This sort of rogues dare not go near the police, and the
+police can't find them.  You have no enemies; it is only some woman
+that has fancied a beautiful child.  Well, she can have them by the
+score, for a thousand pounds."
+
+He was the only one with a real idea; the woman saw it, and clung
+to him.  He left late at night.
+
+Next morning out came the advertisements, and he sent her a handful
+by special messenger.  His zeal and activity kept her bereaved
+heart from utter despair.
+
+At eleven that night came a telegraph:--
+
+
+"I have got him.  Coming down by special train."
+
+
+Then what a burst of joy and gratitude!  The very walls of the
+house seemed to ring with it as a harp rings with music.  A special
+train, too! he would not let the mother yearn all night.
+
+At one in the morning he drove up with the child and a hired nurse.
+
+Imagine the scene!  The mother's screams of joy, her furious
+kisses, her cooing, her tears, and all the miracles of nature at
+such a time.  The servants all mingled with their employers in the
+general rapture, and Emily, who was pale as death, cried and
+sobbed, and said, "Oh, ma'am, I'll never let him out of my sight
+again, no, not for one minute."  Falcon made her a signal, and went
+out.  She met him in the garden.
+
+She was much agitated, and cried, "Oh, you did well to bring him
+to-day.  I could not have kept it another hour.  I'm a wretch."
+
+"You are a good kind girl; and here's the fifty pounds I promised
+you."
+
+"Well, and I have earned it."
+
+"Of course you have.  Meet me in the garden to-morrow morning, and
+I'll show you you have done a kind thing to your mistress, as well
+as me.  And as for the fifty pounds, that is NOTHING; do you hear?
+it is nothing at all, compared with what I will do for you, if you
+will be true to me, and hold your tongue."
+
+"Oh! as for that, my tongue shan't betray you, nor shame ME.  You
+are a gentleman, and I do think you love her, or I would not help
+you."
+
+So she salved her nursemaid's conscience--with the help of the
+fifty pounds.
+
+The mother was left to her rapture that night.  In the morning
+Falcon told his tale.
+
+"At two P.M. a man had called on him, and had produced one of his
+advertisements, and had asked him if that was all square--no
+bobbies on the lurk.  'All square, my fine fellow.'  'Well,' said
+he, 'I suppose you are a gentleman.'  'I am of that opinion too.'
+'Well, sir,' says he, 'I know a party as has FOUND a young gent as
+comes werry nigh your advertisement.'  'It will be a very lucky
+find to that party,' I said, 'if he is on the square.'  'Oh, WE are
+always on the square, when the blunt is put down.'  'The blunt for
+the child, when you like, and where you like,' said I.  'You are
+the right sort,' said he.  'I am,' replied I.  'Will you come and
+see if it is all right?' said he.  'In a minute,' said I.  Stepped
+into my bedroom, and loaded my six-shooter."
+
+"What is that?" said Lusignan.
+
+"A revolver with six barrels: by the by, the very same I killed the
+lion with.  Ugh! I never think of that scene without feeling a
+little quiver; and my nerves are pretty good, too.  Well, he took
+me into an awful part of the town, down a filthy close, into some
+boozing ken--I beg pardon, some thieves' public-house."
+
+"Oh, my dear friend," said Rosa, "were you not frightened?"
+
+"Shall I tell you the truth, or play the hero?  I think I'll tell
+YOU the truth.  I felt a little frightened, lest they should get my
+money and my life, without my getting my godson: that is what I
+call him now.  Well, two ugly dogs came in, and said, 'Let us see
+the flimsies, before you see the kid.'
+
+"'That is rather sharp practice, I think,' said I; 'however, here's
+the swag, and here's the watch-dog.'  So I put down the notes, and
+my hand over them with my revolver cocked, and ready to fire."
+
+"Yes, yes," said Rosa pantingly.  "Ah, you were a match for them."
+
+"Well, Mrs. Staines, if I was writing you a novel, I suppose I
+should tell you the rogues recoiled; but the truth is they only
+laughed, and were quite pleased.  'Swell's in earnest,' said one,
+'Jem, show the kid.'  Jem whistled, and in came a great tall black
+gypsy woman, with the darling.  My heart was in my mouth, but I
+would not let them see it.  I said, 'It is all right.  Take half
+the notes here, and half at the door.'  They agreed, and then I did
+it quick, walked to the door, took the child, gave them the odd
+notes, and made off as fast as I could, hired a nurse at the
+hospital--and the rest you know."
+
+"Papa," said Rosa, with enthusiasm, "there is but one man in
+England who would have got me back my child, and this is he."
+
+When they were alone, Falcon told her she had said words that
+gladdened his very heart.  "You admit I can carry out one half of
+his wishes?" said he.
+
+Mrs. Staines said "Yes," then colored high; then, to turn it off,
+said, "But I cannot allow you to lose that large sum of money.  You
+must let me repay you."
+
+"Large sum of money!" said he.  "It is no more to me than sixpence
+to most people.  I don't know what to do with my money; and I never
+shall know, unless you will make a sacrifice of your own feelings
+to the wishes of the dead.  O Mrs. Staines--Rosa, do pray consider
+that a man of that wisdom sees the future, and gives wise advice.
+Sure am I that, if you could overcome your natural repugnance to a
+second marriage, it would be the best thing for your little boy--I
+love him already as if he were my own--and in time would bring you
+peace and comfort, and some day, years hence, even happiness.  You
+are my only love; yet I should never have come to you again if HE
+had not sent me.  Do consider how strange it all is, and what it
+points to, and don't let me have the misery of losing you again,
+when you can do no better now, alas! than reward my fidelity."
+
+She was much moved at this artful appeal, and said, "If I was sure
+I was obeying his will.  But how can I feel that, when we both
+promised never to wed again?"
+
+"A man's dying words are more sacred than any other.  You have his
+letter."
+
+"Yes, but he does not say 'marry again.'"
+
+"That is what he meant, though."
+
+"How can you say that?  How can you know?"
+
+"Because I put the words he said to me together with that short
+line to you.  Mind, I don't say that he did not exaggerate my poor
+merits; on the contrary, I think he did.  But I declare to you that
+he did hope I should take care of you and your child.  Right or
+wrong, it was his wish, so pray do not deceive yourself on that
+point."
+
+This made more impression on her than anything else he could say,
+and she said, "I promise you one thing, I will never marry any man
+but you."
+
+Instead of pressing her further, as an inferior artist would, he
+broke into raptures, kissed her hand tenderly, and was in such high
+spirits, and so voluble all day, that she smiled sweetly on him,
+and thought to herself, "Poor soul! how happy I could make him with
+a word!"
+
+As he was always watching her face--a practice he carried further
+than any person living--he divined that sentiment, and wrought upon
+it so, that at last he tormented her into saying she would marry
+him SOME DAY.
+
+When he had brought her to that, he raged inwardly to think he had
+not two years to work in; for it was evident she would marry him in
+time.  But no, it had taken him more than four months, close siege,
+to bring her to that.  No word from Phoebe.  An ominous dread hung
+over his own soul.  His wife would be upon him, or, worse still,
+her brother Dick, who he knew would beat him to a mummy on the
+spot; or, worst of all, the husband of Rosa Staines, who would kill
+him, or fling him into a prison.  He MUST make a push.
+
+In this emergency he used his ally, Mr. Lusignan; he told him Mrs.
+Staines had promised to marry him, but at some distant date.  This
+would not do; he must look after his enormous interests in the
+colony, and he was so much in love he could not leave her.
+
+The old gentleman was desperately fond of Falcon, and bent on the
+match, and he actually consented to give his daughter what Falcon
+called a little push.
+
+The little push was a very great one, I think.
+
+It consisted in directing the clergyman to call in church the banns
+of marriage between Reginald Falcon and Rosa Staines.
+
+They were both in church together when this was done.  Rosa all but
+screamed, and then turned red as fire and white as a ghost, by
+turns.  She never stood up again all the service; and in going home
+refused Falcon's arm, and walked swiftly home by herself.  Not that
+she had the slightest intention of passing this monstrous thing by
+in silence.  On the contrary, her wrath was boiling over, and so
+hot that she knew she should make a scene in the street if she said
+a word there.
+
+Once inside the house she turned on Falcon, with a white cheek and
+a flashing eye, and said, "Follow me, sir, if you please."  She led
+the way to her father's study.  "Papa," said she, "I throw myself
+on your protection.  Mr. Falcon has affronted me."
+
+"Oh, Rosa!" cried Falcon, affecting utter dismay.
+
+"Publicly--publicly: he has had the banns of marriage cried in the
+church, without my permission."
+
+"Don't raise your voice so loud, child.  All the house will hear
+you."
+
+"I choose all the house to hear me.  I will not endure it.  I will
+never marry you now--never!"
+
+"Rosa, my child," said Lusignan, "you need not scold poor Falcon,
+for I am the culprit.  It was I who ordered the banns to be cried."
+
+"Oh! papa, you had no right to do such a thing as that."
+
+"I think I had.  I exercised parental authority for once, and for
+your good, and for the good of a true and faithful lover of yours,
+whom you jilted once, and now you trifle with his affection and his
+interests.  He loves you too well to leave you; yet you know his
+vast estates and interests require supervision."
+
+"That for his vast estates!" said Rosa contemptuously.  "I am not
+to be driven to the altar like this, when my heart is in the grave.
+Don't you do it again, papa, or I'll get up and forbid the banns;
+affront for affront."
+
+"I should like to see that," said the old gentleman dryly.
+
+Rosa vouchsafed no reply, but swept out of the room, with burning
+cheeks and glittering eyes, and was not seen all day, would not
+dine with them, in spite of three humble, deprecating notes Falcon
+sent her.
+
+"Let the spiteful cat alone," said old Lusignan.  "You and I will
+dine together in peace and quiet."
+
+It was a dull dinner; but Falcon took advantage of the opportunity,
+impregnated the father with his views, and got him to promise to
+have the banns cried next Sunday.  He consented.
+
+Rosa learned next Sunday morning that this was to be done, and her
+courage failed her.  She did not go to church at all.
+
+She cried a great deal, and submitted to violence, as your true
+women are too apt to do.  They had compromised her, and so
+conquered her.  The permanent feelings of gratitude and esteem
+caused a reaction after her passion, and she gave up open
+resistance as hopeless.
+
+Falcon renewed his visits, and was received with the mere sullen
+languor of a woman who has given in.
+
+The banns were cried a third time.
+
+Then the patient Rosa bought laudanum enough to reunite her to her
+Christopher, in spite of them all; and having provided herself with
+this resource, became more cheerful, and even kind and caressing.
+
+She declined to name the day at present, and that was awkward.
+Nevertheless the conspirators felt sure they should tire her out
+into doing that, before long; for they saw their way clear, and she
+was perplexed in the extreme.
+
+In her perplexity, she used to talk to a certain beautiful star she
+called her Christopher.  She loved to fancy he was now an
+inhabitant of that bright star; and often on a clear night she
+would look up, and beg for guidance from this star.  This I
+consider foolish: but then I am old and sceptical; she was still
+young and innocent, and sorely puzzled to know her husband's real
+will.
+
+I don't suppose the star had anything to do with it, except as a
+focus of her thoughts; but one fine night, after a long inspection
+of Christopher's star, she dreamed a dream.  She thought that a
+lovely wedding-dress hung over a chair, that a crown of diamonds as
+large as almonds sparkled ready for her on the dressing-table, and
+she was undoing her black gown, and about to take it off, when
+suddenly the diamonds began to pale, and the white satin dress to
+melt away, and in its place there rose a pale face and a long
+beard, and Christopher Staines stood before her, and said quietly,
+"Is this how you keep your vow?"  Then he sank slowly, and the
+white dress was black, and the diamonds were jet; and she awoke,
+with his gentle words of remonstrance and his very tones ringing in
+her ear.
+
+This dream, co-operating with her previous agitation and
+misgivings, shook her very much; she did not come down-stairs till
+near dinner-time; and both her father and Falcon, who came as a
+matter of course to spend his Sunday, were struck with her
+appearance.  She was pale, gloomy, morose, and had an air of
+desperation about her.
+
+Falcon would not see it; he knew that it is safest to let her sex
+alone when they look like that; and then the storm sometimes
+subsides of itself.
+
+After dinner, Rosa retired early; and soon she was heard walking
+rapidly up and down the dressing-room.
+
+This was quite unusual, and made a noise.
+
+Papa Lusignan thought it inconsiderate; and after a while,
+remarking gently that he was not particularly fond of sound, he
+proposed they should smoke the pipe of peace on the lawn.
+
+They did so; but after a while, finding that Falcon was not
+smoking, he said, "Don't let me detain you.  Rosa is alone."
+
+Falcon took the hint, and went to the drawing-room.  Rosa met him
+on the stairs, with a scarf over her shoulders.  "I must speak to
+papa," said she.  "Where is he?"
+
+"He is on the lawn, dear Rosa," said Falcon, in his most dulcet
+tones.  He was sure of his ally, and very glad to use him as a
+buffer to receive the first shock.
+
+So he went into the drawing-room, where all the lights were
+burning, and quietly took up a book.  But he did not read a line;
+he was too occupied in trying to read his own future.
+
+The mean villain, who is incapable of remorse, is, of all men, most
+capable of fear.  His villany had, to all appearance, reached the
+goal; for he felt sure that all Rosa's struggles would, sooner or
+later, succumb to her sense of gratitude and his strong will and
+patient temper.  But when the victory was won, what a life!  He
+must fly with her to some foreign country, pursued from pillar to
+post by an enraged husband, and by the offended law.  And if he
+escaped the vindictive foe a year or two, how could he escape that
+other enemy he knew, and dreaded--poverty?  He foresaw he should
+come to hate the woman he was about to wrong, and she would
+instantly revenge herself, by making him an exile and, soon or
+late, a prisoner, or a pauper.
+
+While these misgivings battled with his base but ardent passion,
+strange things were going on out of doors--but they will be best
+related in another sequence of events, to which indeed they fairly
+belong.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+
+Staines and Mrs. Falcon landed at Plymouth, and went up to town by
+the same train.  They parted in London, Staines to go down to
+Gravesend, Mrs. Falcon to visit her husband's old haunts, and see
+if she could find him.
+
+She did not find him; but she heard of him, and learned that he
+always went down to Gravesend from Saturday till Monday.
+
+Notwithstanding all she had said to Staines, the actual information
+startled her, and gave her a turn.  She was obliged to sit down,
+for her knees seemed to give way.  It was but a momentary weakness.
+She was now a wife and a mother, and had her rights.  She said to
+herself, "My rogue has turned that poor woman's head long before
+this, no doubt.  But I shall go down and just bring him away by the
+ear."
+
+For once her bitter indignation overpowered every other sentiment,
+and she lost no time, but late as it was went down to Gravesend,
+ordered a private sitting-room and bedroom for the night, and took
+a fly to Kent Villa.
+
+But Christopher Staines had the start of her.  He had already gone
+down to Gravesend with his carpet-bag, left it at the inn, and
+walked to Kent Villa that lovely summer night, the happiest husband
+in England.
+
+His heart had never for one instant been disturbed by Mrs. Falcon's
+monstrous suspicion; he looked on her as a monomaniac; a sensible
+woman insane on one point, her husband.
+
+When he reached the villa, however, he thought it prudent to make
+sure that Falcon had come to England at all, and discharged his
+commission.  He would not run the risk, small as he thought it, of
+pouncing unexpected on his Rosa, being taken for a ghost, and
+terrifying her, or exciting her to madness.
+
+Now the premises of Kent Villa were admirably adapted to what they
+call in war a reconnaissance.  The lawn was studded with
+laurestinas and other shrubs that had grown magnificently in that
+Kentish air.
+
+Staines had no sooner set his foot on the lawn, than he heard
+voices; he crept towards them from bush to bush; and standing in
+impenetrable shade, he saw in the clear moonlight two figures--
+Mr. Lusignan and Reginald Falcon.
+
+These two dropped out only a word or two at intervals; but what
+they did say struck Staines as odd.  For one thing, Lusignan
+remarked, "I suppose you will want to go back to the Cape.  Such
+enormous estates as yours will want looking after."
+
+"Enormous estates!" said Staines to himself.  "Then they must have
+grown very fast in a few months."
+
+"Oh, yes," said Falcon; "but I think of showing her a little of
+Europe first."
+
+Staines thought this still more mysterious; he waited to hear more,
+but the succeeding remarks were of an ordinary kind.
+
+He noticed, however, that Falcon spoke of his wife by her Christian
+name, and that neither party mentioned Christopher Staines.  He
+seemed quite out of their little world.
+
+He began to feel a strange chill creep down him.
+
+Presently Falcon went off to join Rosa; and Staines thought it was
+quite time to ask the old gentleman whether Falcon had executed his
+commission, or not.
+
+He was only hesitating how to do it, not liking to pounce in the
+dark on a man who abhorred everything like excitement, when Rosa
+herself came flying out in great agitation.
+
+Oh! the thrill he felt at the sight of her!  With all his self-
+possession, he would have sprung forward and taken her in his arms
+with a mighty cry of love, if she had not immediately spoken words
+that rooted him to the spot with horror.  But she came with the
+words in her very mouth; "Papa, I am come to tell you I cannot, and
+will not, marry Mr. Falcon."
+
+"Oh, yes, you will, my dear."
+
+"Never!  I'll die sooner.  Not that you will care for that.  I tell
+you I saw my Christopher last night--in a dream.  He had a beard;
+but I saw him, oh, so plain; and he said, 'Is this the way you keep
+your promise?'  That is enough for me.  I have prayed, again and
+again, to his star, for light.  I am so perplexed and harassed by
+you all, and you make me believe what you like.  Well, I have had a
+revelation.  It is not my poor lost darling's wish I should wed
+again.  I don't believe Mr. Falcon any more.  I hear nothing but
+lies by day.  The truth comes to my bedside at night.  I will not
+marry this man."
+
+"Consider, Rosa, your credit is pledged.  You must not be always
+jilting him heartlessly.  Dreams! nonsense.  There--I love peace.
+It is no use your storming at me; rave to the moon and the stars,
+if you like, and when you have done, do pray come in, and behave
+like a rational woman, who has pledged her faith to an honorable
+man, and a man of vast estates--a man that nursed your husband in
+his last illness, found your child, at a great expense, when you
+had lost him, and merits eternal gratitude, not eternal jilting.  I
+have no patience with you."
+
+The old gentleman retired in high dudgeon.
+
+Staines stood in the black shade of his cedar-tree, rooted to the
+ground by this revelation of male villany and female credulity.
+
+He did not know what on earth to do.  He wanted to kill Falcon, but
+not to terrify his own wife to death.  It was now too clear she
+thought he was dead.
+
+Rosa watched her father's retiring figure out of sight.  "Very
+well," said she, clenching her teeth; then suddenly she turned, and
+looked up to heaven.  "Do you hear?" said she, "my Christie's star?
+I am a poor perplexed creature.  I asked you for a sign, and that
+very night I saw him in a dream.  Why should I marry out of
+gratitude?  Why should I marry one man, when I love another?  What
+does it matter his being dead?  I love him too well to be wife to
+any living man.  They persuade me, they coax me, they pull me, they
+push me.  I see they will make me.  But I will outwit them.  See--
+see!" and she held up a little phial in the moonlight.  "This shall
+cut the knot for me; this shall keep me true to my Christie, and
+save me from breaking promises I ought never to have made.  This
+shall unite me once more with him I killed, and loved."
+
+She meant she would kill herself the night before the wedding,
+which perhaps she would not, and perhaps she would.  Who can tell?
+The weak are violent.  But Christopher, seeing the poison so near
+her lips, was perplexed, took two strides, wrenched it out of her
+hand, with a snarl of rage, and instantly plunged into the shade
+again.
+
+Rosa uttered a shriek, and flew into the house.
+
+The farther she got, the more terrified she became, and soon
+Christopher heard her screaming in the drawing-room in an alarming
+way.  They were like the screams of the insane.
+
+He got terribly anxious, and followed her.  All the doors were
+open.
+
+As he went up-stairs, he heard her cry, "His ghost! his ghost!  I
+have seen his ghost!  No, no.  I feel his hand upon my arm now.  A
+beard! and so he had in the dream!  He is alive.  My darling is
+alive.  You have deceived me.  You are an impostor--a villain.  Out
+of the house this moment, or he shall kill you."
+
+"Are you mad?" cried Falcon.  "How can he be alive, when I saw him
+dead?"
+
+This was too much.  Staines gave the door a blow with his arm, and
+strode into the apartment, looking white and tremendous.
+
+Falcon saw death in his face; gave a shriek, drew his revolver, and
+fired at him with as little aim as he had at the lioness; then made
+for the open window.  Staines seized a chair, followed him, and
+hurled it at him; and the chair and the man went through the window
+together, and then there was a strange thud heard outside.
+
+Rosa gave a loud scream, and swooned away.
+
+Staines laid his wife flat on the floor, got the women about her,
+and at last she began to give the usual signs of returning life.
+
+Staines said to the oldest woman there, "If she sees me, she will
+go off again.  Carry her to her room; and tell her, by degrees,
+that I am alive."
+
+All this time Papa Lusignan had sat trembling and whimpering in a
+chair, moaning, "This is a painful scene--very painful."  But at
+last an idea struck him--"WHY, YOU HAVE ROBBED THE OFFICE!"
+
+Scarcely was Mrs. Staines out of the room, when a fly drove up, and
+this was immediately followed by violent and continuous screaming
+close under the window.
+
+"Oh, dear!" sighed Papa Lusignan.
+
+They ran down, and found Falcon impaled at full length on the
+spikes of the villa, and Phoebe screaming over him, and trying in
+vain to lift him off them.  He had struggled a little, in silent
+terror, but had then fainted from fear and loss of blood, and lying
+rather inside the rails, which were high, he could not be
+extricated from the outside.
+
+As soon as his miserable condition was discovered, the servants ran
+down into the kitchen, and so up to the rails by the area steps.
+These rails had caught him; one had gone clean through his arm, the
+other had penetrated the fleshy part of the thigh, and a third
+pierced his ear.
+
+They got him off; but he was insensible, and the place drenched
+with his blood.
+
+Phoebe clutched Staines by the arm.  "Let me know the worst," said
+she.  "Is he dead?"
+
+Staines examined him, and said "No."
+
+"Can you save him?"
+
+"I?"
+
+"Yes.  Who can, if you cannot?  Oh, have mercy on me!" and she went
+on her knees to him, and put her forehead on his knees.
+
+He was touched by her simple faith; and the noble traditions of his
+profession sided with his gratitude to this injured woman.  "My
+poor friend," said he, "I will do my best, for YOUR sake."
+
+He took immediate steps for stanching the blood; and the fly
+carried Phoebe and her villain to the inn at Gravesend.
+
+Falcon came to on the road; but finding himself alone with Phoebe,
+shammed unconsciousness of everything but pain.
+
+Staines, being thoroughly enraged with Rosa, yet remembering his
+solemn vow never to abuse her again, saw her father, and told him
+to tell her he should think over her conduct quietly, not wishing
+to be harder upon her than she deserved.
+
+Rosa, who had been screaming, and crying for joy, ever since she
+came to her senses, was not so much afflicted at this message as
+one might have expected.  He was alive, and all things else were
+trifles.
+
+Nevertheless, when day after day went by, and not even a line from
+Christopher, she began to fear he would cast her off entirely; the
+more so as she heard he was now and then at Gravesend to visit Mrs.
+Falcon at the inn.
+
+While matters were thus, Uncle Philip burst on her like a bomb.
+"He is alive! he is alive! he is alive!"  And they had a cuddle
+over it.
+
+"Oh, Uncle Philip!  Have you seen him?"
+
+"Seen him?  Yes.  He caught me on the hop, just as I came in from
+Italy.  I took him for a ghost."
+
+"Oh, weren't you frightened?"
+
+"Not a bit.  I don't mind ghosts.  I'd have half a dozen to dinner
+every day, if I might choose 'em.  I couldn't stand stupid ones.
+But I say, his temper isn't improved by all this dying: he is in an
+awful rage with you; and what for?"
+
+"O uncle! what for?  Because I'm the vilest of women!"
+
+"Vilest of fiddlesticks!  It's his fault, not yours.  Shouldn't
+have died.  It's always a dangerous experiment."
+
+"I shall die if he will not forgive me.  He keeps away from me and
+from his child."
+
+"I'll tell you.  He heard, in Gravesend, your banns had been cried:
+that has moved the peevish fellow's bile."
+
+"It was done without my consent.  Papa will tell you so; and, O
+uncle, if you knew the arts, the forged letter in my darling's
+hand, the way he wrought on me!  O villain! villain!  Uncle,
+forgive your poor silly niece, that the world is too wicked and too
+clever for her to live in."
+
+"Because you are too good and innocent," said Uncle Philip.
+"There, don't you be down-hearted.  I'll soon bring you two
+together again--a couple of ninnies.  I'll tell you what is the
+first thing: you must come and live with me.  Come at once, bag and
+baggage.  He won't show here, the sulky brute."
+
+Philip Staines had a large house in Cavendish Square, a crusty old
+patient, like himself, had left him.  It was his humor to live in a
+corner of this mansion, though the whole was capitally furnished by
+his judicious purchases at auctions.
+
+He gave Rosa and her boy and his nurse the entire first floor, and
+told her she was there for life.  "Look here," said he, "this last
+affair has opened my eyes.  Such women as you are the sweeteners of
+existence.  You leave my roof no more.  Your husband will make the
+same discovery.  Let him run about, and be miserable a bit.  He
+will have to come to book."
+
+She shook her head sadly.
+
+"My Christopher will never say a harsh word to me.  All the worse
+for me.  He will quietly abandon a creature so inferior to him."
+
+"Stuff!"
+
+Now, she was always running to the window, in hope that Christopher
+would call on his uncle, and that she might see him; and one day
+she gave a scream so eloquent, Philip knew what it meant.  "Get you
+behind that screen, you and your boy," said he, "and be as still as
+mice.  Stop! give me that letter the scoundrel forged, and the
+ring."
+
+This was hardly done, and Rosa out of sight, and trembling from
+head to foot, when Christopher was announced.  Philip received him
+very affectionately, but wasted no time.
+
+"Been to Kent Villa yet?"
+
+"No," was the grim reply.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I have sworn never to say an angry word to her again; and,
+if I was to go there, I should say a good many angry ones.  Oh,
+when I think that her folly drove me to sea, to do my best for her,
+and that I was nearer death for that woman than ever man was, and
+lost my reason for her, and went through toil and privations,
+hunger, exile, mainly for her, and then to find the banns cried in
+open church, with that scoundrel!--say no more, uncle.  I shall
+never reproach her, and never forgive her."
+
+"She was deceived."
+
+"I don't doubt that; but nobody has a right to be so great a fool
+as all that."
+
+"It was not her folly, but her innocence, that was imposed on.  You
+a philosopher, and not know that wisdom itself is sometimes imposed
+on, and deceived by cunning folly!  Have you forgotten your
+Milton?--
+
+
+     "'At Wisdom's gate, Suspicion sleeps,
+       And deems no ill where no ill seems.'
+
+
+Come, come! are you sure you are not a little to blame?  Did you
+write home the moment you found you were not dead?"
+
+Christopher colored high.
+
+"Evidently not," said the keen old man.  "Ah, my fine fellow! have
+I found the flaw in your own armor?"
+
+"I did wrong, but it was for her.  I sinned for her.  I could not
+bear her to be without money, and I knew the insurance--I sinned
+for her.  She has sinned AGAINST me."
+
+"And she had much better have sinned against God, hadn't she?  He
+is more forgiving than we perfect creatures that cheat insurance
+companies.  And so, my fine fellow, you hid the truth from her for
+two or three months."
+
+No answer.
+
+"Strike off those two or three months; would the banns have ever
+been cried?"
+
+"Well, uncle," said Christopher, hard pressed, "I am glad she has
+got a champion; and I hope you will always keep your eye on her."
+
+"I mean to."
+
+"Good-morning."
+
+"No; don't be in a hurry.  I have something else to say, not so
+provoking.  Do you know the arts by which she was made to believe
+you wished her to marry again?"
+
+"I wished her to marry again!  Are you mad, uncle?"
+
+"Whose handwriting is on this envelope?"
+
+"Mine, to be sure."
+
+"Now, read the letter."
+
+Christopher read the forged letter.
+
+"Oh, monstrous!"
+
+"This was given her with your ruby ring, and a tale so artful that
+nothing we read about the devil comes near it.  This was what did
+it.  The Earl of Tadcaster brought her title, and wealth, and
+love."
+
+"What, he too!  The little cub I saved, and lost myself for--blank
+him! blank him!"
+
+"Why, you stupid ninny! you forget you were dead; and he could not
+help loving her.  How could he?  Well, but you see she refused him.
+And why? because he came without a forged letter from YOU.  Do you
+doubt her love for you?"
+
+"Of course I do.  She never loved me as I loved her."
+
+"Christopher, don't you say that before me, or you and I shall
+quarrel.  Poor girl! she lay, in my sight, as near death for you as
+you were for her.  I'll show you something."
+
+He went to a cabinet, and took out a silver paper; he unpinned it,
+and laid Rosa's beautiful black hair upon her husband's knees.
+"Look at that, you hard-hearted brute!" he roared to Christopher,
+who sat, anything but hard-hearted, his eyes filling fast, at the
+sad proof of his wife's love and suffering.
+
+Rosa could bear no more.  She came out with her boy in her hand.
+"O uncle, do not speak harshly to him, or you will kill me quite!"
+
+She came across the room, a picture of timidity and penitence, with
+her whole eloquent body bent forward at an angle.  She kneeled at
+his knees, with streaming eyes, and held her boy up to him: "Plead
+for your poor mother, my darling.  She mourns her fault, and will
+never excuse it."
+
+The cause was soon decided.  All Philip's logic was nothing,
+compared with mighty nature.  Christopher gave one great sob, and
+took his darling to his heart, without one word; and he and Rosa
+clung together, and cried over each other.  Philip slipped out of
+the room, and left the restored ones together.
+
+
+I have something more to say about my hero and heroine, but must
+first deal with other characters, not wholly uninteresting to the
+reader, I hope.
+
+Dr. Staines directed Phoebe Falcon how to treat her husband.  No
+medicine, no stimulants; very wholesome food, in moderation, and
+the temperature of the body regulated by tepid water.  Under these
+instructions, the injured but still devoted wife was the real
+healer.  He pulled through, but was lame for life, and ridiculously
+lame, for he went with a spring halt,--a sort of hop-and-go-one
+that made the girls laugh, and vexed Adonis.
+
+Phoebe found the diamonds, and offered them all to Staines, in
+expiation of his villany.  "See," she said, "he has only spent
+one."
+
+Staines said he was glad of it, for her sake, for he must be just
+to his own family.  He sold them for three thousand two hundred
+pounds; but for the big diamond he got twelve thousand pounds, and
+I believe it was worth double the money.
+
+Counting the two sums, and deducting six hundred for the stone Mr.
+Falcon had embezzled, he gave her over seven thousand pounds.
+
+She stared at him, and changed color at so large a sum.  "But I
+have no claim on that, sir."
+
+"That is a good joke," said he.  "Why, you and I are partners in
+the whole thing--you and I and Dick.  Was it not with his horse and
+rifle I bought the big diamond?  Poor dear, honest, manly Dick!
+No, the money is honestly yours, Mrs. Falcon; but don't trust a
+penny to your husband."
+
+"He will never see it, sir.  I shall take him back, and give him
+all his heart can ask for, with this; but he will be little more
+than a servant in the house now, as long as Dick is single; I know
+that;" and she could still cry at the humiliation of her villain.
+
+Staines made her promise to write to him; and she did write him a
+sweet, womanly letter, to say that they were making an enormous
+fortune, and hoped to end their days in England.  Dick sent his
+kind love and thanks.
+
+I will add, what she only said by implication, that she was happy
+after all.  She still contrived to love the thing she could not
+respect.  Once, when an officious friend pitied her for her
+husband's lameness, she said, "Find me a face like his.  The lamer
+the better; he can't run after the girls, like SOME."
+
+Dr. Staines called on Lady Cicely Treherne; the footman stared.  He
+left his card.
+
+A week afterwards, she called on him.  She had a pink tinge in her
+cheeks, a general animation, and her face full of brightness and
+archness.
+
+"Bless me!" said he bluntly, "is this you?  How you are improved!"
+
+"Yes," said she; "and I am come to thank you for your pwescwiption:
+I followed it to the lettaa."
+
+"Woe is me!  I have forgotten it."
+
+"You diwected me to mawwy a nice man."
+
+"Never: I hate a nice man."
+
+"No, no--an Iwishman: and I have done it."
+
+"Good gracious! you don't mean that!  I must be more cautious in my
+prescriptions.  After all, it seems to agree."
+
+"Admiwably."
+
+"He loves you?"
+
+"To distwaction."
+
+"He amuses you?"
+
+"Pwodigiously.  Come and see."
+
+
+Dr. and Mrs. Staines live with Uncle Philip.  The insurance money
+is returned, but the diamond money makes them very easy.  Staines
+follows his profession now under great advantages: a noble house,
+rent free; the curiosity that attaches to a man who has been canted
+out of a ship in mid-ocean, and lives to tell it; and then Lord
+Tadcaster, married into another noble house, swears by him, and
+talks of him; so does Lady Cicely Munster, late Treherne; and when
+such friends as these are warm, it makes a physician the centre of
+an important clientele; but his best friend of all is his
+unflagging industry, and his truly wonderful diagnosis, which
+resembles divination.  He has the ball at his feet, and above all,
+that without which worldly success soon palls, a happy home, a
+fireside warm with sympathy.
+
+Mrs. Staines is an admiring, sympathizing wife, and an admirable
+housekeeper.  She still utters inadvertencies now and then, commits
+new errors at odd times, but never repeats them when exposed.
+Observing which docility, Uncle Philip has been heard to express a
+fear that, in twenty years, she will be the wisest woman in
+England.  "But, thank heaven!" he adds, "I shall be gone before
+that."
+
+Her conduct and conversation afford this cynic constant food for
+observation; and he has delivered himself oracularly at various
+stages of the study: but I cannot say that his observations, taken
+as a whole, present that consistency which entitles them to be
+regarded as a body of philosophy.  Examples:  In the second month
+after Mrs. Staines came to live with him, he delivered himself
+thus: "My niece Rosa is an anomaly.  She gives you the impression
+she is shallow.  Mind your eye: in one moment she will take you out
+of your depth or any man's depth.  She is like those country
+streams I used to fish for pike when I was young; you go along,
+seeing the bottom everywhere; but presently you come to a corner,
+and it is fifteen deep all in a moment, and souse you go over head
+and ears: that's my niece Rosa."
+
+In six months he had got to this--and, mind you, each successive
+dogma was delivered in a loud, aggressive tone, and in sublime
+oblivion of the preceding oracle--"My niece Rosa is the most artful
+woman.  (You may haw! haw! haw! as much as you like.  You have not
+found out her little game--I have.)  What is the aim of all women?
+To be beloved by an unconscionable number of people.  Well, she
+sets up for a simpleton, and so disarms all the brilliant people,
+and they love her.  Everybody loves her.  Just you put her down in
+a room with six clever women, and you will see who is the favorite.
+She looks as shallow as a pond, and she is as deep as the ocean."
+
+At the end of the year he threw off the mask altogether.  "The
+great sweetener of a man's life," said he, "is 'a simpleton.'  I
+shall not go abroad any more; my house has become attractive: I've
+got a simpleton.  When I have a headache, her eyes fill with tender
+concern, and she hovers about me and pesters me with pillows: when
+I am cross with her, she is afraid I am ill.  When I die, and leave
+her a lot of money, she will howl for months, and say I don't want
+his money: 'I waw-waw-waw-waw-want my Uncle Philip, to love me, and
+scold me.'  One day she told me, with a sigh, I hadn't lectured her
+for a month.  'I am afraid I have offended you,' says she, 'or else
+worn you out, dear.'  When I am well, give me a simpleton, to make
+me laugh.  When I am ill, give me a simpleton to soothe me with her
+innocent tenderness.  A simpleton shall wipe the dews of death, and
+close my eyes: and when I cross the river of death, let me be met
+by a band of the heavenly host, who were all simpletons here on
+earth, and too good for such a hole, so now they are in heaven, and
+their garments always white--because there are no laundresses there."
+
+Arrived at this point, the Anglo-Saxon race will retire, grinning,
+to fresh pastures, and leave this champion of "a Simpleton," to
+thunder paradoxes in a desert.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of A Simpleton, by Charles Reade
+
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