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diff --git a/34404-h/34404-h.htm b/34404-h/34404-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b1c37a7 --- /dev/null +++ b/34404-h/34404-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4168 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Beautiful Miss Brooke, by Louis Zangwill</title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + .copyright {text-align: center; font-size: 70%;} + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + .small {font-size: 70%;} + .big {font-size: 110%;} + .author {font-size: 120%; text-align: center;} + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .right {text-align: right;} + .sig {margin-right: 10%; text-align: right;} + .hang1 {text-indent: -3em; margin-left: 3em;} + .cap:first-letter {float: left; clear: left; margin: -0.2em 0.1em 0; margin-top: 0%; + padding: 0; line-height: .75em; font-size: 300%; text-align: justify; } + .cap {text-align: justify;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Beautiful Miss Brooke, by Louis Zangwill</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Beautiful Miss Brooke</p> +<p>Author: Louis Zangwill</p> +<p>Release Date: November 22, 2010 [eBook #34404]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BEAUTIFUL MISS BROOKE***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>E-text prepared by David Edwards<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> + from page images generously made available by Internet Archive<br /> + (<a href="http://www.archive.org/">http://www.archive.org</a>)</h4> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive. See + <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/beautifulmissbro00zangiala"> + http://www.archive.org/details/beautifulmissbro00zangiala</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 311px;"> +<img src="images/coverpage.jpg" width="311" height="500" alt="Cover" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<h1>THE BEAUTIFUL MISS BROOKE</h1> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='bbox'> +<h3>SOME PRESS OPINIONS</h3> + +<h4>Of "Z. Z.'s" Previous Work.</h4> + + +<div class='hang1'><i>Daily Chronicle</i> (London).—In all modern fiction there is +no novel which contains a more able and finished +analysis of character. It is a serious contribution to +literature.</div> + +<div class='hang1'><i>Echo</i> (London).—His work reveals a grand dramatic instinct +There are indeed possibilities of fine work in +"Z. Z.," and we may anticipate valuable studies of life +in the immediate future. Mr. Louis Zangwill should +cut a pretty figure in latter-day fiction.</div> + +<div class='hang1'><i>Academy</i> (London).—A few masterful novelists like "Z. Z." +have it in their power to attain to a complete achievement.</div> + +<div class='hang1'><i>Daily Telegraph</i> (London).—One of the ablest works of +recent fiction.</div> + +<div class='hang1'><i>Illustrated London News.</i>—One of the cleverest novels of +the day.</div> + +<div class='hang1'><i>Graphic</i> (London).—The new novel by "Z. Z." is a +tragedy of which the power can not possibly be denied. +Never for one moment does the author lose his +grip.</div> + +<div class='hang1'><i>Weekly Sun</i> (London).—He is one of the forces to be +counted with in contemporary literature. Great qualities +have gone to the making of his book, and with +these qualities Mr. Louis Zangwill is bound to travel +far.</div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>The Beautiful Miss Brooke<br /><br /></h1> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 86px;"> +<img src="images/swoosh.png" width="86" height="20" alt="Decoration" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class='author'><br /><br /><br />By "Z. Z."</div> + +<div class='center'> +Author of A Drama in Dutch,<br /> +The World and a Man, Etc.<br /><br /><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 97px;"> +<img src="images/emblem.png" width="97" height="111" alt="Emblem" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class='center'><br /><br /><br /><br /> +New York<br /> +D. Appleton and Company<br /> +1897<br /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<div class='copyright'> +<span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1897,<br /> +<br /> +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.<br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE BEAUTIFUL MISS BROOKE.</h2> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> opening bars of a waltz sounded +through the house above the irregular murmur +of conversation, bearing their promise and +summons along festal corridors and into garlanded +nooks and alcoves. Paul Middleton +drew a breath of relief as the girl to whom he +had been talking was carried off to dance, for +she had bored him intolerably. The refreshment +room, crowded a moment ago, was +thinning down, and, glad of the respite, he +took another sandwich and slowly sipped the +remainder of his coffee. His humour was of +the worst. If his hostess had not been his +mother's oldest friend, he would never have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> +allowed himself to be persuaded to accept her +invitation after he had once decided to decline +it. Why had his mother so persisted, when +she knew very well he was looking forward +to playing in an important chess match? +Certainly the evening so far had not compensated +him for the pleasure he had thus missed.</p> + +<p>He had been chafing the whole time, and +intermittently he had played with the idea of +slipping out and taking a hansom down to +the chess club. But he had ticked off five +dances on Celia's programme—Celia was of +course Celia—and he was to take her to supper. +Moreover, on his arrival at the small-and-early, +Mrs. Saxon had led him round—he +feeling that his amiable expression made him +a hypocrite—and, mechanically repeating his +request for the pleasure of a dance, he had +scrawled his name on several programmes +with scarcely a glance at their owners. It +was, however, more particularly his engagements<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> +with Celia, and one or two other girls +he knew well, that had made him stay on. +Once more he glanced at his watch. It was +getting well on towards midnight now, and +the issue of the chess match must already +have been decided. After some speculation +as to the winning side, he resigned himself to +finishing the evening where he was.</p> + +<p>At the best of times Paul Middleton's interest +in the ballroom was only lukewarm. He +frankly professed not to care about it at all, +and, though he was in the habit of dancing +every dance, he looked upon himself more as +a spectator than a participator on such rare +occasions as he accepted cards for. He had +no favourite partners. Into the inner and intimate +life of that circle of light made for human +pleasure he could never enter; he had +always shrunk from exploring its labyrinth of +flirtation, coquetry, and petty manœuvring, +the very thought of the intricacies of which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +affrighted his plain-sailing temperament. To +him one girl in a ballroom was much the +same as another—a green, white, or pink +gown with sometimes an eye-glass attached. +He knew very well, though—if only from his +mother having instilled it into him—that no +such indifference attached to him, a young +man of twenty-three, who was absolute master +of at least eleven thousand pounds a year, +and not without claim to other merits.</p> + +<p>Becoming aware that the music was in full +swing upstairs, he began to think it was high +time to look for his partner. But the name +"Brooke" on his programme, which he +made out with some difficulty, called up no +picture, no living personality. He could not +even recollect the moment when he had written +it, and it did not appear he had made any +note to help him identify the girl. His last +partner had had to be pointed out to him by +Mrs. Saxon, and he did not care to trouble her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> +again. "Besides," he reflected, "this Miss +Brooke, whoever she is, will most likely be +hidden away in some nook or other and will +be only too glad not to be hunted up."</p> + +<p>He had almost made up his mind to skip +the dance when there came into the room an +old schoolfellow, more or less a friend of his. +The two interchanged a word. Thorn, it +appeared, wanted a whisky and soda before +going home. He had to turn in early to be in +good form for the morrow's cricket. It was +the first match of the season, and he was anxious +to do brilliantly. Paul took the opportunity +of asking him if, by any chance, he knew +or had danced with a Miss Brooke.</p> + +<p>"The beautiful Miss Brooke you mean, +don't you?" asked Thorn.</p> + +<p>Paul explained he didn't know which Miss +Brooke he meant, but that he ought to be +dancing with <i>a</i> Miss Brooke. Any girl who +answered to that name would satisfy him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, if the one you mean, or don't +mean, is the one I mean, she's just outside the +door talking to a big Yankee chap. I never +heard of her before to-night, but she's a stunning +girl. She's the daughter of some American +millionaire, a railway king, or something +of that sort—at least everybody says so. I +tried to get a dance with her, but I wasn't +in luck. I envy you. Good-night, old +boy!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose, then, <i>I</i> must consider myself +in luck," thought Paul, staying yet a moment +as he caught sight of his full reflection in a +glass. It was a medium, slightly built figure +that met his gaze, easy and graceful of carriage. +The face was fair with a tiny light +beard—the silken hair cut short, the features +intelligent, the eyes grey, the teeth beautiful. +A suspicion of a freckle here and there did not +seem unsuited to the type of complexion. +The survey seemed to please him, and he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +stepped forward with the intention of taking +possession of "the beautiful Miss Brooke."</p> + +<p>Thorn's indication proved correct. To his +surprise Miss Brooke seemed to recognise him +as he approached, for she welcomed him with +a smile, from which he deduced, moreover, +that she must have been waiting for him. He +had a general sense of enchantment and diaphanousness, +of a delicate harmony of colour-tones; +an impression as of an idealised figure +that had stepped out of a decorative painting. +He wondered how he had escaped the impression +at the time of his introduction to her, +and, despite her smile, he was chilled by a +doubt that it might, after all, be some other +Miss Brooke on whose programme he had +written. Of the man she had been talking to +he scarcely took any note at all, beyond verifying +he was a "big Yankee." He took her +up to the dancing-room, and they began +waltzing. Paul considered himself a pretty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +good dancer, and there were even moments +when he could conscientiously say he was +enjoying himself. But somehow he found +himself going badly with Miss Brooke. +Things seemed to be wrong at the very start. +There was an uncomfortable drag. Paul was +compelled to take enormous steps to counteract +it, and after a dozen turns both agreed to +give it up.</p> + +<p>"You dance the English step, of course, +Mr. Middleton," she observed as they sauntered +round. Her American accent was of the +slightest, and few as were the words she +had so far spoken, they seemed to Paul subtly +to vibrate with a pleasant friendliness. Her +voice was sweet and clear, with an under-quality +of softness and caress. The suggestion +that there were waltz steps other than +the one he was wont to dance was new to +him.</p> + +<p>"I suppose mine is the English step," he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +replied, "though I never heard of any other. +Is yours very different?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. We Americans really waltz, +whilst you English just go round and round +and round, with your stiff legs for all the +world like a pair of compasses."</p> + +<p>Paul could not agree with her, and patriotically +proceeded to defend the English waltz, +surprised to find himself expending oratory on +so trivial a subject. He asserted it was not +the mere monotonous turning to which Miss +Brooke would reduce it, but that a spirit went +with it; whereupon Miss Brooke shook her +head, declaring she had shown the American +step to a good many English people, and, no +matter how sceptical before, they had vowed, +one and all, never to dance the English step +again.</p> + +<p>They had wandered away from the mass +of rotating figures and taken possession of a +couple of seats in a corner outside the dancing-room.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +Paul had now an opportunity of observing +Miss Brooke more narrowly. Other +partners he had already forgotten. He could +hardly have identified them again. So far as +he was concerned, they had got completely +lost in the crowd from which they had temporarily +emerged. But of Miss Brooke he felt +sure a perfectly definite picture would remain +in his mind. What struck him most at once +was a certain spirit of frank good humour that +seemed to exhale from her, that made him +feel, even with her first few words, as if she +were merely resuming an interrupted conversation +with him. Her manner suggested the +natural falling-into-step by the side of an established +friend, overtaken <i>en route</i>, and it +was hard for him to realise this was really +their first talk together.</p> + +<p>Paul had never danced with an American +girl before, else he would have been aware +of the incompatibility of their steps. His notions<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +of the American girl—or at least the American +girl that comes to Europe—were of the +vaguest. He had in the course of his existence +met perhaps two or three of the class, but +he had never really talked to them. He had +heard the American girl spoken of—praised, +damned, or tolerated; he had read about her +push and businesslike qualities; and a short +time since he had seen the type portrayed on +the stage—a dashing, masterful creature, a +piece of egotism incarnate, with a twang as +pronounced as her self-assertiveness, a terrible +determination, and an equally terrible +assurance of carrying it through. But he had +never thought about her coherently; never +consciously crystallized these more or less +contradictory notions of her that had come to +him in so scattered and chaotic a fashion. It +was quite certain, however, that Miss Brooke +had nothing in common with the monstrosity +that had given so much delight to that English<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +audience, and raised in it a due consciousness +of its own virtue of modest moderation. Nor +could he associate her with the dreadfully improper +and unabashable person he had heard +more than one British matron declare the +American girl to be.</p> + +<p>Miss Brooke did not address her words to +the floor, but sitting with her chair at an +angle to his, looking straight at him as she +spoke. Paul found the ordeal a fascinating +but sufficiently trying one. He had no chance +against this wonderful girlish face, with its +sparkling blue eyes and its subtle quality of +sincerity and spirituality; tantalising by the +charm of its smile, which suggested moments +of wickedness and kissing, and provoking by +its air of unawareness of its calm-destroying +powers. He was conscious, too, of a long, +white neck rising above a pair of well-knit +shoulders, out of a mass of white fluffy trimmings, +in which were set with careless art a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +few deep-red velvet flowers. On her forehead +lay two roguish curls that moved freely, +and each temple was covered by a bewitching +lock, whose end curled inwards toward the +ear. At the back her hair was drawn right +up into curls, leaving the whole neck free, and +showing the contour of the gracefully-poised +head. Her white gown seemed woven of +some fairy substance, embroidered with myriad +gold spots, and encircled round the waist +with three golden bands. The pink, round +flesh of the upper arm showed firm and cool +through the web of the sleeve that met the +long white glove at the elbow. The bodice +followed closely the modelling of the bust, +and the skirt swept downwards, ending in +a mass of foam-like fluff amid which nestled +the tips of two neat shoes. Altogether a +superb girl, dainty and supple, without any +suggestion of fragility.</p> + +<p>The comparative merits of the English and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +American waltzes were still occupying their +attention.</p> + +<p>"Now, tell me, Mr. Middleton," she asked, +after enthusiastically descanting on the pleasure +and grace of the "long glide," "haven't I +really converted you?"</p> + +<p>"I want very much to be converted, but +your waltz seems formidable. I am afraid +of it."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it would not take you long to +learn. Cannot I really coax you into a promise +to try it? I enjoy making converts—I +have missionary tendencies in the blood."</p> + +<p>"That's interesting. Because there are +tendencies in my blood, too. Anti-missionary +ones, however. To be true to the family +tradition, I'm not sure whether I ought not +resist your coaxings."</p> + +<p>"Which I'm sure you're not going to do." +Her face took on an expression of mock +imploration. "But, tell me, how far back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +does your tradition go, and how did it +arise?"</p> + +<p>"It began with my grandfather, whose pet +idea was that the energy and money spent on +missions should be employed at home for the +raising of the lower classes. My father went +a step further by deciding the particular form +in which the lower classes should reap the +benefit, and he died with the hope that the +dream of two generations should be realised +by me."</p> + +<p>"There is quite a touch of poetry in what +you tell me," said Miss Brooke. "My family +history is more prosaic, but it has a dash of +adventure in it. The missionary hobby began +with my great-grandfather, who was devoted, +body and soul, to it—certainly body, for he +was eaten by cannibals. Poor savages!"</p> + +<p>"Poor savages!" echoed Paul, for the +moment supposing Miss Brooke meant to +throw doubts on her ancestor's digestibility.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, for grandfather went out to preach +to them! A very mean revenge, I call that."</p> + +<p>"How do you reconcile that statement +with your own missionary leanings?" asked +Paul, thinking it strange a railway king should +be the son of an earnest missionary, and +vaguely speculating whether the millionaire +was in the habit of giving large sums to "revenge" +his grandfather.</p> + +<p>"Oh, as a woman I have the right to make +contradictory statements. 'Tis a valuable +right, and I find it very convenient not to +yield it up, though I <i>did</i> learn logic at +college."</p> + +<p>"But surely it must be ever so much nicer +to triumph by logic."</p> + +<p>"If one were only sure of triumphing! +But I am really in no difficulty, so you will +not get an exhibition of logic to-night. My +missionary tendencies are purely a matter of +instinct, my anti-missionary ones a matter of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +sentiment. Do not instinct and sentiment +pull different ways in human beings? Confess, +Mr. Middleton, don't you often <i>want</i> to +do things you <i>feel</i> you ought not?"</p> + +<p>"More often I don't want to do things I +feel I ought to."</p> + +<p>"That is a piece of new humour."</p> + +<p>"I meant the inversion seriously. But I'm +glad to find that we are agreed at least in +sentiment."</p> + +<p>"And I do try and turn the instinct into +useful channels. Americans, you know, never +let force run to waste. Now, you <i>will</i> learn +that waltz, won't you, Mr. Middleton? +Promise me quickly, as some one is coming +to take me to dance. There comes the top +of his head."</p> + +<p>"Dear me, has the next dance come round +already!" ejaculated Paul. "You may consider +me a sincere convert," he added quickly, +"if—if you will spare me another dance."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If you can find one," she replied; and, +slipping her programme into his hand, she +rose in response to the smile of the newcomer. +To Paul's surprise, the man was the +same from whom he had carried off Miss +Brooke only a minute or two ago, as it appeared +to him. Which fact caused him now +to take keen notice of him. "The fellow" +was quite six feet high, and of slim, supple +build. His face was dark, and, to Paul, distinctively +American. He wore a short pointed +beard and a carefully-trimmed moustache. +His black hair somewhat eccentrically hung +down in lines cut to the same length. His +eyes gleamed with an almost unnatural brightness, +and his teeth showed themselves polished +and white.</p> + +<p>"Write thick over somebody else's name." +Paul was conscious of Miss Brooke speaking +to him in almost a whisper; then in a moment +she had bowed and moved off. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +could not help feeling angry with the man +for taking her away, and his displeasure +showed itself in his face. There seemed, +too, something proprietorial in the way +"the confounded fellow" walked off with +her, and a thousand foolish conjectures hustled +in his brain. However, he remembered he +had Miss Brooke's programme, which, together +with her last injunction, formed a +comforting assurance she had taken him into +special favour. It had been decidedly nice to +talk to this girl, who seemed just the sort of +person—simple and straightforward despite +her wonderful charm—he felt he could get on +with, and it gave him pleasure to picture her +again sitting by his side, fresh, cool, sweet, +and surpassingly beautiful.</p> + +<p>After lingering a little he went into the +ballroom again. Miss Brooke's figure alone +drew his eye—the rest of the world was a +mere dancing medley. She was obviously<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +enjoying her dance, and Paul found himself +envying her partner his easy mastery of the +American waltz step. He could not help observing +now what a superb note she struck in +that crowd. He could see, too, she was being +noticed, and divined talk about her by +many moving lips.</p> + +<p>He found an opportunity of returning her +programme, which she received with a +marked look of surprise that changed into +a smile of thanks. Paul was much puzzled. +Her manner seemed to make it appear that +she had dropped the programme and he had +picked it up. He rather resented this, till it +occurred to him she had slipped it into his +hand so as not to be seen by her present +cavalier, and probably she had played this +little comedy because she did not want to +rouse his suspicion. Paul's fears that the +man might be something to her were reawakened, +but they were palliated by a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +sense of triumph over him. Had not Miss +Brooke played a part—for his sake?</p> + +<p>Mrs. Saxon passed near him and stopped +to talk to him a moment. He made absent-minded +replies—indeed, five minutes later he +recalled that he had said something particularly +foolish and hated himself. In this +mood he sought cousin Celia and took her +to supper. He examined her more critically +now, finding her handsome, solid, and only +passably interesting. He noted, too, that +her manner lacked sprightliness and enthusiasm, +and that the things she talked about +didn't interest him in the least. He found +himself apologising again and again for not +having heard what she said. That was +whenever there were questions for him to +answer. He had, however, enough wit left +to feel it was fortunate she did not ask +questions more frequently. Meanwhile his +eye wandered constantly towards a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +table some distance off, which Miss Brooke +and her American friend had all to themselves, +the other two covers being as yet +unappropriated. Once or twice he became +aware that Celia's eye was following his. +He saw a gleam of understanding flash +across her face, followed by a flush whose +meaning was obvious. But somehow he +felt reckless.</p> + +<p>An hour later he was with Miss Brooke +again. At her laughing suggestion they had +found a hiding-place, more "towards the +upper regions," in order to keep out of the +way of the man whose name had been written +over, and who, indeed, never appeared. +Miss Brooke was admiring an exquisite little +painting of a picturesque boy looking over a +rude wooden bridge on to a small stream. +The work, which hung just opposite them, +bore a well-known French signature, and had +attracted her attention at once. The enthusiasm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +with which she spoke of the artist led +Paul to inquire if she herself painted.</p> + +<p>"I try to," she answered self-deprecatingly. +"I am appallingly interested in my +work. I always lose myself when talking +about it."</p> + +<p>She was evidently serious, and Paul was +glad to have struck such a mood, which +promised possibilities of intimate conversation.</p> + +<p>"You have taken up art seriously?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"One must do something to fill one's +life," she replied, with unmistakable earnestness; +and set Paul musing about the inability +of fortune to compensate for a want of purpose +in life, as he had, indeed, felt long ago. +That a woman, however, should give expression +to the sentiment surprised him. Her +next words astonished him still more.</p> + +<p>"I have always been ambitious, and I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +might have achieved something in art if I +hadn't wasted so many years trying other +things."</p> + +<p>"But, surely you must find the knowledge +you have acquired worth having."</p> + +<p>"I would willingly exchange it all for two +years' progress in my work. The mistakes +began by poppa discovering I was a musical +genius, and as I was just mad to do something +big in the world, I believed him. The +next discovery was mine—that I was a great +writer, and when, two years after that, an artist +friend declared some sketches of mine +were full of inspiration, my enthusiasm for +writing fizzed out immediately, and I rushed +into painting, and over to Paris to study. Of +course, I'm only in the student stage, but my +professor has given me distinct encouragement. +In my heart I really believe I should +succeed if only——" She broke off with a +curious laugh, but went on almost immediately:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +"If only I don't transfer my enthusiasm +to sculpture before long. You see I +know my little ways. Besides, the temptation +to change is as strong as it possibly can +be. It would be such a distinction to have +completed the round of the arts."</p> + +<p>"Poetry would still be left untouched."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've written poetry as well. That +was part and parcel of my literary mania."</p> + +<p>"And naturally expired with it."</p> + +<p>"No. Let me confess. Poetry is the one +thing I keep up in order to be able to feel I am +made of fine stuff. It's the one unsaleable +thing I devote my time to, and without it I +should feel utterly ignoble. With all my ambition +to achieve greatness, I am quite unable +to say how much of my enthusiasm is due to +the hope of accompanying dollars."</p> + +<p>Paul was startled for a moment, then +laughed in high amusement at the idea of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +railway king's daughter eking out her income +by Art.</p> + +<p>"I mean it. I'm not as noble as I look, +but thank you for the compliment all the +same. If I have allowed myself any illusions +on the point, they were all dissipated when I +heard of the price a Salon picture sold for +last year. My feeling of envy was too naked +to be mistaken—naked and unashamed. I +don't know if you've ever experienced the sort +of thing—whether you've ever written poetry +to keep your self-respect."</p> + +<p>"I fear writing poetry would be no test for +me. I don't mean to imply that the result +would <i>not</i> be unsaleable," he added, smiling, +"but that I am not so avaricious as you profess +to be. I am quite satisfied that my work +in life shall bring me no return."</p> + +<p>"I wish I were as fine as that," said Miss +Brooke.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I am far from being fine,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +said Paul, modestly. "I am simply content +with my fortune. As you said before, one +must do something to fill one's life. I am +only too grateful for the prospect of being able +to employ my energies. So you see I am +really selfish at bottom."</p> + +<p>"We each appear to have a due sense of +the clay in us, so let us agree we are neither +of us precisely the saints we appear. But +you've not yet told me in what particular way +you purpose satisfying that selfishness of +yours."</p> + +<p>"Thereby hangs a long tale," said Paul, +laughing again. "It is connected with the +family tradition I mentioned to you before."</p> + +<p>"I remember. Your father laid some injunction +on you about converting missionary +energies and subscriptions for home use."</p> + +<p>"That is a quaint way of putting it. It is +true his injunction first set me thinking, and it +led to my developing certain Utopian ideas of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +my own. As the result, I am now studying +architecture. No doubt you will think it a +strange choice. There begins another dance, +and we've both partners."</p> + +<p>"How vexatious!" said Miss Brooke. +"Just when I am so interested. I am really +longing to hear all about your Utopia."</p> + +<p>"I should so much have liked to tell you," +murmured Paul, thinking he might even have +sat out another dance if it were not for his +foolish exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you're going to call, Mr. Middleton."</p> + +<p>"I shall be very happy," said Paul, repressing +a start.</p> + +<p>She wrote her address for him on the back +of his programme, adding, "I shall be in on +Wednesday afternoon."</p> + +<p>He thanked her and took her down to the +dancing-room where she was pounced upon +immediately, and he then discovered, to his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +surprise, that he and Miss Brooke <i>had</i> sat out +two dances! Moreover, the frown which +Celia gave him over her partner's shoulder as +she waltzed by made him refer to his programme, +when he found he had overlooked +the little tick at the side of dance number fourteen.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">A day</span> and a half to wait before seeing +Miss Brooke again," was Paul's first reflection +the next morning. "All I should have +laughed at as absurd a month ago, proves to +be true. I am fast in the toils." And all +through the day Miss Brooke filled his +thoughts. He was, somehow, a different +person from before, as if he had awakened +from some sluggish torpor.</p> + +<p>All his life Paul had suffered from an excess +of parental love, which had considerably +curtailed his freedom; and even when the +death of his father a year before had left him +his own master, he had no thought of living +away from his mother, much to her secret<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +gratification. Her fondness for him had been +such that she had had him educated at home +for several years, and was only persuaded to +let him go to school under great pressure from +her husband. She had established her influence +over her boy from the beginning, and his +pliable and obedient disposition had enabled +her to maintain it now that he was grown up. +His father, who had divided his time between +collecting beautiful beetles, representing a +rural constituency, enacting the good Samaritan, +and, as Paul had told Miss Brooke, thundering +and writing letters to the press against +foreign missions, had cherished an ambitious +career for his son. He himself, he felt, was a +mere pawn on the parliamentary chessboard, +and he dreamt of a really great political future +for Paul, who, moreover, he hoped, would +leave his mark on the social life of the generation +by promoting the increase of public fine-art +collections. Beautiful centres of art—beautiful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +buildings with beautiful contents—could +be established, he argued, if the money subscribed +for foreign missions could be used for +the purpose; and he had the necessary statistics +ready to hurl at the head of the sceptic.</p> + +<p>Acting on the advice of a friend who considered +the Bar afforded the best training in +oratory, he began by placing the boy in a solicitor's +office immediately after he had left +college. Some eighteen months later the +father was carried off in an epidemic of influenza. +Paul, who had long since discovered +that oratory <i>viâ</i> the law was not adapted to +one of his temperament, had decision enough +to desist from it. His attitude towards his +sire's dream had never been a very reverent +one, for he knew well he was not of the stuff +of which Parliamentary leaders are made. +But, as the affection between the two had been +really strong, the son wished to respect the +father's ideas so far as possible, if only for sentimental<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +reasons; and, finding in himself a +natural taste for making beautiful designs as +well as an innocent love for illuminated +books, old carvings and mouldings, and such +curious antiques as had a real art value, it occurred +to him he might make a thorough +study of architecture from the art as well as +the practical side. Later on he would design +art galleries for the people, and set a movement +on foot to promote their construction. +Without taking himself too solemnly, he liked +to think that what he purposed would have +given his father pleasure; and he was always +able to take good-humouredly such jesting remarks +as had reference to his schemes.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile mother and son had settled +down in a small house in Elm Park Road. +The country house was let on a long lease, +as Mrs. Middleton did not wish to have the +trouble of keeping it up, preferring to travel +for three months in the year. The household<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +consumed but a small part of their revenues, +and consequently the amount of money in +the family threatened to increase from year +to year, despite that Mr. Middleton's good +works were continued, and that Paul, going +a-slumming, started additional good works on +his own account.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Middleton was only too pleased at +Paul's leaving "that nasty dark, close office," +asserting it must have injured his health. Besides, +her faith in his talents was so absolute +that she was certain he would one day be a +very great man indeed, whatever the profession +he espoused. So she ceded to him for +his study perhaps the pleasantest room in the +house. It was at the back and opened on to +a narrow garden, so that he could saunter out +occasionally and pace up and down. As he +was here quite isolated, he never felt the need +of having rooms elsewhere.</p> + +<p>Despite the vigilance under which Paul<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +had grown up, he had yet managed to have +one or two boyish love-affairs without his +parents suspecting anything; and he had at +times dreamt of an ideal love and an ideal +happiness. But of late he had developed different +notions, and had come to pride himself +on his freedom from all mawkish sentiment. +Notwithstanding this, he was chivalrous +enough to believe that women were angels; +which belief, curiously enough, was unimpaired +by the fact that, in practice, he was +a little bit afraid and suspicious of them. +Nor did he always find them interesting; +he would sooner play a game of chess any +day than talk to one of them.</p> + +<p>Cousin Celia was often at the house to join +him and his mother at their quiet tea, and one +day the idea entered his head that Mrs. Middleton +had a certain pet scheme. But modesty +prevented it from taking root in him, and +he preferred to believe that the notion of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +marriage between him and Celia had occurred +only to himself, and would greatly +surprise everybody else if he broached it. +Celia was an orphan, and he had heard +her pitied all his life. She was considered +to possess an extraordinary share of good +looks and an uncommon degree of affability. +Good judges assured one another she would +make an excellent wife, and Mrs. Middleton +had taken good care that the said judges +should discuss the girl in the presence of +her boy, who could scarcely contend against +so subtle an undermining. Despite his vague +knowledge of the wiles of match-making, he +began to persuade himself that he really liked +Celia, and he played more and more with the +idea of marrying her. The leading-strings +were handled so lightly and skilfully, he +would have been much astonished to hear +that his inclinations were not absolutely +uninfluenced. In Celia was all that straightforwardness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +by which he set such store; +from her was absent all that caprice and +flirtatiousness he was so afraid of. It was +easy to know her wishes, easy to please +her; and she had never made him the +victim of moods.</p> + +<p>And the more he thought of marrying her, +the more he began to decry romantic love to +himself. Whether it really existed or not he +would not pretend to say, though, in the light +of his own experience, he could just imagine +its existence. Those old boyish ideas of his +were all a mistake. And thereupon he fell +back eagerly on the theory of sensible companionship +as the only sound basis for +marriage—which theory had now abruptly +to be rejected.</p> + +<p>Already Paul, promenading his garden +whilst beautiful coloured plates of Egyptian +decoration lay neglected on his table, was +bothering himself as to whether he could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +leave Celia out of the account with a clear +conscience. The question he kept asking +himself was whether such attention as he +had paid her could reasonably be interpreted +as bearing any real significance. He +was certain he had never actively made +love to her, as he had always hesitated to +begin, but he had seen a great deal of her +of late and their intimacy had made great +strides. Moreover, she had allowed him his +five dances the evening before without a +word of demur. He knew, too, he had +often felt himself flushing on hearing her +praised, feeling a sort of proprietary pride +in the subject of discussion; and he wondered +now if his demeanour on such occasions +had been observed.</p> + +<p>All these considerations caused him considerable +uneasiness in view of the fact +that he was perfectly sure now he did not +want to marry her. Miss Brooke had come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +into his horizon, and lo! the whole world +was changed. Oh, to be free to woo and +win such a girl!</p> + +<p>Suddenly he had a flash of shrewder insight, +and he was able to find comfort in +that first suspicion, which now returned to +him, that his mother was really responsible +for this Celia affair. Why—and his awakened +mind now ran over a score of memories—he +had scarcely ever met Celia out without his +mother having supplied the impulse for his +going to the particular place! He had been +a fool not to see how she had worked +matters from the beginning. And now +there arose in him a shade of resentment +against her, and his man's independence +revolted for the first time against this subtle +subordination of his will to hers. He had +a definite perception—attended with a distinct +sense of shame—of the fact that he +had never really ceased to be, so far as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +she was concerned, the good little boy who +had learnt his letters at her knee. He had +an individuality of his own, he told himself, +and it behoved him to play the part of a +man. He should begin his emancipation +at once by putting a prompt stop to "this +Celia business."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">As</span> Paul rang at the address Miss Brooke +had scribbled down on his programme, his +dominating thought was that American +millionaire's daughters chose rather shabby +houses to stay in. Though the name of +the street had surprised him when he had +first read it, he had yet conceived it possible +she might be staying at some kind of private +hotel; but he had not anticipated a dusty +card with the word "apartments." He took +it for granted her mother was with her, and, +though he had not formed any clear conception +of Mrs. Brooke, she looming mistily in +his mind as a handsome, stately personage +that had decidedly to be taken into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +reckoning, he had wondered how she would +receive him.</p> + +<p>A maid-servant ushered him up two flights +of stairs into a front room and announced his +name. As he entered he was conscious of +three persons sitting at the far end where a +bright fire burned, and was somewhat startled +to recognise the long lithe figure, the dark +face and hair, and the piercing black eyes +of the American Miss Brooke had danced +with. A peculiar shade of expression flitted +across the man's face, telling Paul the recognition +was mutual. At the same time Paul +was assuming that the bonneted and cloaked +mature-looking lady was no other than Mrs. +Brooke herself, and he wondered why she +should receive callers when so obviously +dressed for going out. Miss Brooke rose to +greet him with a pleasant smile of welcome. +In a simple dress with wide sleeves +that fitted tight round the wrists, her short<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +front hair, evenly divided, falling over her +temples in rippling masses, she seemed less +phantasmal and fairylike, less remote from +this world—a being more humanly sweet +and that one might dare to woo.</p> + +<p>But unfortunately in that moment he became +aware of the huge bulk of a high +bed against the wall on his right, and a +tall screen that cut off a corner of the +room struck him as having the air of concealing +something. Though he kept control +over himself physically, his mind grew +perfectly vacant. He did not dare to think—it +seemed vain to make any surmise—but +bowed to the bonneted lady as he +heard Miss Brooke say: "Katharine, let +me introduce my friend, Mr. Middleton—Mrs. +Potter."</p> + +<p>Paul had seldom felt so many emotions +at one time. Added to his surprise at the +expected Mrs. Brooke changing at the last<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +moment into a Mrs. Potter, and to his +bewilderment at being received in a bedroom, +was a thrill of pleasure at Miss +Brooke's reference to him as "my friend." +He had, too, a sense of gratified curiosity +at learning the next moment that the man's +name was Pemberton; it was convenient, +moreover, to have a definite symbol by +which to refer to him in thought.</p> + +<p>"I think the water's boiling, dear," said +Mrs. Potter. "Doesn't it mean 'boiling' +when steam comes out of the spout like +that?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet, Katharine. Half a minute more. +You are just in nice time, Mr. Middleton, to +get your cup of tea at its best." And Miss +Brooke busied herself cutting up a big lemon +into thin slices at a little table that was laid +with a pretty Japanese tea-set.</p> + +<p>"Lisa's tea is quite wonderful," chimed in +Mrs. Potter. "I always spoil mine—I can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +never quite tell when the water boils. That's +my pet stupidity."</p> + +<p>For a moment Paul watched the artistic +copper kettle as it sang its pleasant song. +Mrs. Potter already struck him as an obviously +cheerful personality, and he felt absurdly grateful +to her for mentioning Miss Brooke's first +name. He had not yet given up Mrs. Brooke, +expecting her to enter the room very soon +now; and he found it hard not to fix his gaze +noticeably on the bed, half-surprised that +everybody else ignored it, seeming totally unconscious +that any such piece of furniture was +there at all.</p> + +<p>Mr. Pemberton took little part in the somewhat +banal but good-humoured conversation +that now sprang up, but drummed idly with +his fingers on the settee on which he was +lounging. Now and again a monosyllabic +drawl fell languidly from him, and Paul read +into this demeanour annoyance at his presence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Potter, he soon learnt—for the lady +was loquacious—was a widow and a journalist +on a three months' stay in Europe, of +which she was passing a month in London, +endeavouring to make as much copy out of it +as possible. She related with glee, and without +any apparent qualms of conscience, how +she had "fixed up" accounts of various great +society functions, writing her copy in the first +person.</p> + +<p>"Lisa is so good and helpful to me. I impose +on her dreadfully. I should never have +been able to get them fixed up without her. +And then her spelling is so perfect—she runs +over my copy and puts it right in a jiffy."</p> + +<p>"Lemon or cream, Mr. Middleton, +please?" asked Miss Brooke. "Two lumps +of sugar or one? What, none at all! Oh, +yes, everybody thinks these cups sweetly +pretty. I'm taking them home with me as a +souvenir."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What shall I do without you in Paris?" +broke in Mrs. Potter again. "I shall be lost +there. Can't I coax you to come back with +me, Lisa dear?"</p> + +<p>"Can't disappoint poppa," said Miss +Brooke laconically.</p> + +<p>"You'll have me to come to," drawled +Mr. Pemberton.</p> + +<p>"You'll be handy for some things, but +your spelling's worse than mine," said Mrs. +Potter; and somewhat irrelevantly went on to +suppose that Paul must know Paris well.</p> + +<p>Paul, alas! had only two visits to boast of, +one of a week's, the other of two weeks' duration, +both in the company of his mother. +Whereupon a sound, as of a suppressed snigger, +came from the direction of Pemberton.</p> + +<p>Something like the truth had begun to +dawn on Paul's mind, and he knew better +now than to continue to expect Mrs. Brooke +to appear. He had sufficiently gathered from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +the conversation that Miss Brooke was on her +way home from Paris to America, and that +she was going to travel alone, and had taken +London <i>en route</i>, probably armed with letters +of introduction. Most likely, he argued, she +must have considered the one room sufficient +for her needs, and had not anticipated callers. +Or perhaps Americans, for all he knew, did +not mind receiving callers in a bedroom. +This, he concluded, was probably the case, as +no one seemed in the least <i>gêné</i>, despite that +the bed was such a palpable fact, and stood +there in massive unblushingness. Otherwise +an atmosphere of feminine daintiness seemed +to surround Miss Brooke, transforming even +this lodging-house bedroom.</p> + +<p>However, he did not grasp the facts without +an almost overwhelming sense of pain.</p> + +<p>His romance had been rudely shattered at +one blast, and he felt his breath draw heavily +when he first comprehended Miss Brooke was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +on the point of leaving London. A sense of +helplessness came upon him as he realised he +could do nothing but just get through with +his call. There seemed not the slightest +chance now of his telling her about the career +he purposed for himself. He had dreamed, +too, of her showing him her verses, perhaps +some of her sketches. But the presence of the +others stood in the way. He would have +liked to hate them both, but being forced to +like Mrs. Potter, he had to bestow a double +amount of dislike on Mr. Pemberton, which +he was very glad to do. And then he wanted +to know the exact relation between Mr. Pemberton +and Miss Brooke. From a hint the +"fellow" had dropped, it was clear he lived +in Paris—where Miss Brooke had been living. +Was he a relative? Who was he? Why +was he in London? How came he to be at +Mrs. Saxon's dance? For a moment Paul +thought of asking Mrs. Saxon about him, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +also about Miss Brooke, but he put the idea +from him as underhand and unworthy.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the conversation went on, +pleasant and banal. Mrs. Potter deluged Paul +with questions about the London season and +English painters and the Academy. She narrated +the comicalities of her shopping expeditions, +various little misadventures that had +arisen from the different usage of everyday +words by the two nations. By imperceptible +stages along a tortuous and varied route they +drifted on to the subject of love, and Mrs. +Potter, still keeping the talk almost all to herself, +related several touching romances of her +friends' lives. Once or twice Paul's gloom +was lightened by the smile of Miss Brooke +that met his look each time he turned his face +towards her. A lien, invisible to the others, +seemed to be established between them.</p> + +<p>At length Mrs. Potter, drawing Mr. Pemberton's +attention to the hour, rose to go, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +the two left together. Despite some mad +idea of declaring himself to Miss Brooke there +and then, which had occurred to him, Paul +had also risen, but to his astonishment Miss +Brooke drew her chair closer to the fire, and +motioned him to take a seat in the opposite +chimney corner. He obeyed as if hypnotised. +"What would my mother think of this?" +he asked himself, and awaited developments. +As for Miss Brooke, at no moment did she +seem aware of the slightest unconventionality +in the situation.</p> + +<p>"Katharine is so sweet," she began +thoughtfully. "You can't imagine how +pleased I was when she wrote she was +coming. Charlie is piloting her about a little. +He is so good-natured."</p> + +<p>"Charlie is, I presume, Mr. Pemberton."</p> + +<p>"Why, of course. And he'll be of so +much use to her in Paris. He has a studio +there. But I hope she won't fall in love<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +with him," she added laughingly. "Katharine +is so romantic; she is always in love +with some man or other."</p> + +<p>Though he knew as a general biological +fact that women fall in love with men, Paul, +despite all the love-stories he had read, had +never yet been able to grasp it and admit it +to himself as a fact of actual life. Somehow, +he had always felt that the onus of falling in +love and of courtship rested on men, and that +it was very good and condescending of women +to allow themselves to be loved at all. But +Miss Brooke's way of talking seemed to take +it for granted that it was a perfectly natural +and proper thing for a woman to be in love, +that romance was a thing a woman might +own to without any shame; making him +realise more distinctly than ever before that +women were not so entirely passive and +passionless. But all this he rather felt than +thought, and it did not interfere with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +sentence that was on the tip of his tongue; +the outcome of his sense of disappointment +and desolation at her threatened departure +out of his life, which was only mitigated by +the reflection that Pemberton was being left +behind.</p> + +<p>"And now you are going home!"</p> + +<p>The words were obviously equivalent to +a sigh of regret.</p> + +<p>"But not for good, I hope," said Miss +Brooke; and Paul's universe changed at once +into a wonderful enchanted garden. "Of +course, it will be very nice to be at home +with poppa and mamma again, but I should +not be leaving Paris from choice. I was making +such progress at school that my professor +was quite angry I couldn't stay. But perhaps +I shall be back in a year's time. I certainly +shall if everything goes well."</p> + +<p>"I do hope it's nothing serious that calls +you away, and that keeps you from your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +studies so long a time," exclaimed Paul fervently.</p> + +<p>"From my point of view it's certainly +serious," smiled Miss Brooke, good-humouredly. +"As I've already tried to make you +believe, I am a very greedy person, with a +fondness for dollars, and the whole trouble +is that they keep out of reach. Poor hardworked +poppa can't send me any more +money just now, but he'll be getting a bigger +salary next year, and I shall be able to go +back and paint a masterpiece for the Salon. +In the meanwhile I shall have to amuse myself +as best I can sketching about the place, +and watching poppa getting through big +batches of couples. He's a minister—you +know the cloth's hereditary in our family—and +marries off people wholesale."</p> + +<p>Till that moment Miss Brooke had been +the railway king's daughter. For Paul to +find now that she was a comparatively poor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +girl, whose anxiety to earn money by making +her mark in art was no mere jesting +pretence, involved a complete readjustment +of his mental focus. But its instantaneity +made the operation a violent one, especially +as he strove hard not to exhibit any external +signs of discomposure. At the same time a +good deal that had bewildered him was explained, +though there were points yet on +which he needed enlightenment. And with +all his astonishment went an unbounded admiration +for the cheerful way in which she +accepted her position, the lover's keen lookout +for every scrap of virtue in the beloved +seizing on this greedily for commendation. +What a splendid, plucky girl she was! The +glamour of his romance was heightened. +Mere millionaires and all that appertained to +them seemed suddenly prosaic.</p> + +<p>Into what a bizarre misconception had he +fallen! She herself was not to blame. If his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +mind had not been clogged up by what +Thorn had told him beforehand he would not +so persistently have misunderstood her references +to money; but how should he have +thought of challenging what he knew only +now to have been a mere speculative rumour? +There had been nothing in her appearance and +personality to belie that rumour, and, as obviously +she was not called upon to contradict +statements about herself she had never heard, +such manifestations of the truth as had since +become visible to him had only served to +mystify him.</p> + +<p>The way, too, she had taken certain things +for granted as perfectly natural and proper, +somewhat astonished him, to wit, her inviting +him to call here, her reception of him in a bedroom, +and his presence alone with her now. +These facts contravened the ideas in which he +had been brought up, and he could only suppose +that American ideas probably differed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +from English. This surmise seemed, on the +whole, corroborated by the glimpse he had +had that day into the spirit of the American +independent woman—a type entirely new to +him—as exemplified both by Mrs. Potter and +Miss Brooke.</p> + +<p>He asked how soon she was leaving, and +learnt she was sailing on the Saturday, so that +barely two days of London remained to her. +He did not like the idea at all, as he had +formed the hope he might somehow see her +again before her departure.</p> + +<p>"My berth is taken," explained Miss +Brooke, perhaps amused by his evident discontent. +"Some boxes have gone on. Besides, +I could not stay here any longer. +Dollars are getting scarce. I'm going to +have some more tea—won't you join +me?"</p> + +<p>"Willingly." He wanted to stay longer, +and tea, by filling the time plausibly, would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +help to lessen his constraint at the original +position in which he found himself.</p> + +<p>"I am so pleased you were able to call!" +went on Miss Brooke, as she poured out the +beverage. "You haven't forgotten your +promise to tell me all about your work—and +your Utopia as well," she added, smiling, and +handing him his cup.</p> + +<p>Her sweetness as she spoke enchanted +him. When he himself had been hesitating +on the brink of the chasm, with what ease +had she taken him across it at one leap! Soon +he found himself telling her how he had come +to abandon his father's ideas and plan out his +life his own way, with as much emotion as if +he were relating his inmost secrets to an affianced +wife. And certainly no affianced wife +could have listened with a graver attention, or +more sympathetic demeanour.</p> + +<p>"Has it ever occurred to you to study +architecture at Paris?" she asked. "The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +Beaux Art School is, I think, one of the finest +in the world, and you could scarcely get a +more artistic atmosphere."</p> + +<p>The effect of her remark was as that of an +electric spark that fuses many elements into +one new whole. He was conscious of a +struggling chaotic mass of thought, followed +by a clear perception of the conditions of his +existence in all its bearings. And in a flash he +had made up his mind to plunge into the delicious +indefiniteness of what offered itself. A +soft purple haze floated before him as in a +dream, and an odour of incense and a harmony +of sweet sounds seemed to steal upon +him. And the haze, parting a moment, +allowed him a glimpse of a magic city in its +depths. And in that city, he knew, were +"Lisa" and himself.</p> + +<p>That was to be the future! The awakening +of the man in him was complete. By an +abrupt mastercoup he would wrench himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +away from the influences that had well-nigh +reduced him to a puppet. His reply to Miss +Brooke now would be the beginning of the +necessary forward impulse.</p> + +<p>"The idea has not come to me, though, of +course, I should have had to consider the +question of a formal course before very long. +But I like the suggestion very much."</p> + +<p>"Lots of the boys take the course there," +added Miss Brooke. "There are, of course, +many more American than English boys, but +you'll find them all a sociable set."</p> + +<p>He asked for details about the student life, +and Miss Brooke tried to give him some notion +of it. In this way quite half an hour slipped +by, during which Paul became worked up to +a high pitch of enthusiasm and took care to +leave no doubt in Miss Brooke's mind that his +decision was finally taken.</p> + +<p>"Charlie, too, might be useful to you," +said Miss Brooke, as Paul rose to take his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +leave. "I'm sure he'd be delighted to be of +service to you. And how nice, too, if we +were to meet there again! Perhaps we +shall."</p> + +<p>Her face gleamed as with the pleasure of +anticipation.</p> + +<p>"I shall always bear the hope with me," +said Paul gravely; and, wishing her a pleasant +crossing, he bade her "good-bye."</p> + +<p>"Let us say '<i>Au revoir</i>' rather," and +once again she pressed his hand, which was +more than he had dared hope for.</p> + +<p>But what had "Charlie" to do with Miss +Brooke? he asked himself a thousand times +that evening.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">A month</span> later—about the beginning of +June—Paul had entered the École des Beaux +Arts as a student of architecture. Not to +have succeeded in tearing himself away +would have been to lose all self-respect. +He had determined to justify himself to +himself, to prove he had a will he need +not be ashamed of. Thus it was that his +astonished mother and a favourite uncle—Celia's +guardian—who both had a good deal +to say about Paris and its temptations, expended +their speech to no purpose.</p> + +<p>Paul entered into his student life with zest, +working hard and conscientiously in a very +methodical fashion. He allowed himself,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +however, plenty of time for enjoying the +city; going to the theatres, and peeping +into all the show places, and hunting up +curios at old shops, and lounging and playing +billiards at the cafés, and drinking beer +<i>al fresco</i> on the boulevards. Occasionally +he rode in the Bois, or made excursions +up and down the Seine, and into the neighbouring +country—mostly, of course, in company, +for he soon struck acquaintance with +some of the men, many of whom he found +had to manage on very little money. So +he said nothing about his own easy circumstances, +rather enjoying the two-franc +seat at the theatre and the fifteen-centime +ride on the tops of tramcars. When he +wanted expensive amusement he went +alone.</p> + +<p>No one he knew had so far mentioned +Miss Brooke's name, and though he was +often on the point of asking one or other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +of his new friends about her, some instinct +invariably restrained him. He had nurtured +his love for her, all his solitary thought +turning to her, and it seemed a sort of +sacrilege to make even the most innocent +inquiry about her in her absence. This +waiting for her in silence was part of the +romance.</p> + +<p>He understood the American girl a little +better now, fellow-students having introduced +him to girl friends—that is to say, he was +better acquainted with her and her ways. +And he was satisfied that whatever appeared +right to Miss Brooke, no matter +how much it violated his own notions, +must be right absolutely. With her the +fact of riches or poverty was reduced to a +mere indifferent background, against which +her personality stood out in all its charm +and dignity. A girl like her could make +her home in one room, and yet make you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +welcome in it with as much ease and grace +as any lady in a fine drawing-room.</p> + +<p>Time passed, and still nobody, by any +chance, referred to Miss Brooke. This was +not surprising, for Paris was large, and +American girl students were plentiful and +scattered all over it. Moreover, a girl who +had gone home months before was likely +to be soon forgotten. Pemberton he had +never met, but he had seen him just once +from the top of a tramcar. The hot +weather came on and Paul passed a delicious +month at Montmorency in company +with one of the men. After his return he +settled to work again, and the months +went by almost without his keeping count +of them—for, Miss Brooke having mentioned +a year as the time she was likely to remain +in America, he would not look for her till +the spring came on again. In the meanwhile +he inflicted much misery on himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +by speculating as to whether home and +home ties might not have absorbed for +good so ideal and affectionate a girl as he +conceived her to be, especially after so long +a residence abroad. But deep down was +implanted in him an unswerving faith in her +coming, and, though the manner of their +meeting had been left so undefined, he +was certain there would be no difficulty +when the time came, and that his life after +that would be one long fairy tale.</p> + +<p>The spring came at last, and with it <i>vernissage</i> +at the Salon. Paul knew one or +two men who were exhibiting, so he decided +to pass his afternoon at the Palais de +l'Industrie. The tens of thousands that +thronged the galleries made picture-inspection +difficult and tedious; but the crowd +itself presented many compensating features +of interest. Paul was hoping, too, he +might see Miss Brooke there, as it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +not impossible she might by now be back +in Paris. Occasionally he fancied a girl +resembled Miss Brooke, but when, after +infinite striving, he had got close to his +quarry, he found the points of likeness +were but few. Once or twice the fair +one eluded his pursuit, and got irretrievably +swallowed up.</p> + +<p>On his going to <i>déjeuner</i> the next day, +at a little restaurant close by the school, +where he was in the habit of dropping in +at mid-day—he dined in the evening in +state at a more pretentious establishment—there +sat Miss Brooke herself at a table at +the end of the room, her face towards the +door. None of the usual clients had yet +arrived, as it was a trifle early, and <i>mademoiselle</i> +was distributing the newly-written +menus among the various tables. In any +case he must have caught sight of her at +once, as the cluster of sharp red and black<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +wings that shot up from one side of the +little toque, which just seemed to rest on +her hair, drew the eye at once. Her face +showed glowing and bright, set above the +dark mass of her stuff dress. As the door +swung to she looked up from the menu she +had been studying.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Mr. Middleton? You +seem real scared to see me."</p> + +<p>Her greeting seemed as calm and laughing +as if they had but parted the day before, +and Paul felt some vague dissatisfaction +with it—he did not quite know why. It +seemed, somehow, as if there were no romance +between them at all, as if they +were the merest acquaintances. Perhaps it +was that the pent-up emotion of months +of waiting needed more dramatic expression +than this commonplace situation afforded.</p> + +<p>He asked permission, and sat down opposite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +her, scarcely knowing what to say +to her first.</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me whether <i>cervelle de +veau</i> is anything good to eat? It's the +only unfamiliar thing on the menu, and my +only hope."</p> + +<p>He took the sheet of paper as she held +it to him, but found the dish was equally +unknown to him. They appealed to <i>mademoiselle</i>, +who informed them, "<i>C'est dans +la tête.</i>"</p> + +<p>"I wonder if she means 'brains.' I was +hoping not to have to translate <i>cervelle</i> +literally."</p> + +<p>"I am not afraid of experimenting," suggested +Paul.</p> + +<p>"For my benefit. That is real kind of +you. Whenever I've been curious about +things with strange names, I've always had +to order them, which is rather an expensive +way of increasing one's French vocabulary."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> + +<p>When the dish came, neither Paul nor +Miss Brooke liked the curly look of it, so +they fell back on <i>bifteck</i>, salad, cheese, and +fruit.</p> + +<p>"And so you are here after all," said +Miss Brooke, musingly.</p> + +<p>"Why? Did you think I was not serious +about coming?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean that. My expression was +a sort of acknowledgment to myself that I +had found you—or rather, to be proper, +that you had found me."</p> + +<p>His heart fairly leaped with pleasure. +She had certainly then thought of him during +the past months!</p> + +<p>"I must thank the happy chance that led +you in here," he murmured, feeling his emotion +at length control him.</p> + +<p>"Happy chance!" She charmed his ear +with a ripple of laughter. "Why, I've exhausted +almost every restaurant near the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +Beaux Arts, that being the most feminine way +of pursuing you. The mathematical theory of +probability—college learning <i>does</i> prove useful +at times—told me the happening of the event, +that is, of the event I wanted to happen, was +a certainty. For some particular restaurant or +other is a habit which everybody contracts; it +is, indeed, the first vice one picks up in Paris. +And it's a habit that can't be broken. Day after +day you revolt—if you're a man, you swear—against +the <i>cuisine</i>. Things are becoming intolerable. +Time was when everything was +perfect, when the menu was varied, and +always included your favourite dishes; when +one could eat the salad without too close an +inspection of the under-side of the leaves, and +when the wine at eighty centimes a litre +didn't turn blue or taste like ink. To-day is, +most certainly, the last time you will ever set +foot in the place. But the morrow comes, and +at <i>déjeuner</i> time your feet bear you there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +again, and you are so meek about it that you +scarcely protest."</p> + +<p>"That is just my experience," he confessed.</p> + +<p>"I was sure it would be. That is what +enabled me to calculate so infallibly. You see +I speak my thoughts quite unashamed. Paris +makes one so frightfully immodest."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad, then, I didn't take it into my +head to apply the same method in my search +for you. Not only would it have upset your +mathematics, but, having no particular landmark, +I might have wandered on forever. +All the same, I have kept my eyes open. In +fact, I was hoping to see you yesterday at <i>vernissage</i>."</p> + +<p>"Were you there?" she exclaimed. +"What a silly question!" she added immediately, +laughing. "What I meant to say was +<i>I</i> was there. But, of course, it was quite impossible +to find any one in such a crowd."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +Paul noticed with pleasure that the conversation +on both sides assumed the fact of a positive +rendezvous between them. Miss Brooke +went on to chatter about the <i>vernissage</i>.</p> + +<p>"I see this morning's <i>Herald</i> puts us +down as a low lot. Its reporter must be very +<i>exigeant</i>. In spite of our presence he insists +the models gave the <i>ton</i> to the assembly."</p> + +<p>"Were there many models present?" +asked Paul. "I don't remember seeing any."</p> + +<p>"There were quite enough of them to be +noticeable. Perhaps you thought they were +all countesses."</p> + +<p>"I did have some such idea," he admitted. +"I didn't know models dressed like countesses."</p> + +<p>"They do when their artists take them to +<i>vernissage</i>. Which affords food for reflection."</p> + +<p>Paul felt slightly embarrassed and did not +answer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And now," resumed Miss Brooke, contemplating +her <i>cœur à la crême</i>, "if I may +venture to intrude on your reflections, will you +please pass me the sugar?"</p> + +<p>"Is it long since you returned?" he inquired +soon. "I was going to ask you before, +only the <i>cervelle</i> puzzle arose and somehow +I forgot."</p> + +<p>"Just three weeks," she replied. "Poppa +had his bigger salary, and as it was getting +tedious seeing couples married I made haste to +come over again. You can't imagine how +impatient I was to get back in time for <i>vernissage</i>. +It gives such a fillip to your ambitions +to see crowds round your friends' pictures, +and to read about them in the papers; it +makes you realise your own powers, and sets +you wondering why <i>you</i> hadn't dared to +send something in. When you are tired of +lamenting your folly you begin to admire +your modesty, and of course you remember<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +that modesty is the mark of true +genius."</p> + +<p>"And you had all those thoughts?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! They are the thoughts I should +have had if I hadn't been busy admiring the +dresses. The pictures must wait—I shall be +going again to see those, perhaps two or +three times. Most students do. One is supposed +to learn from them, but in practice one +only criticises. The boys say everything is +rotten. We girls pretend to agree with them, +only, of course, it wouldn't be proper to express +our opinion as violently as that. Do +you dine here as well?"</p> + +<p>"I dine as the whim takes me. You see I +haven't yet acquired a habit for evening wear. +Not every Bohemian can make that boast."</p> + +<p>Miss Brooke laughed. "Bohemians +mostly acquire bad habits for evening wear. +But I'm going to cut Bohemianism altogether +so far as my meals are concerned, and settle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +down in a <i>pension</i>. Two or three of the girls +live there, and they report well of it. I also +made friends while crossing with a girl who +was being consigned there."</p> + +<p>He asked whether she had had a good +crossing, and whether she were a good sailor. +Miss Brooke replied that the weather had been +perfect the whole way and she had enjoyed +herself, and she proceeded to entertain him by +relating incidents of the passage. Meanwhile +the little restaurant had filled, and was nearly +empty again. They rose at last and settled +their <i>additions</i>. Paul then noticed that Miss +Brooke had her painting materials with her, +and insisted on carrying them so far as her +school. They stepped out into the sunshine, +and became aware how fine a day it was.</p> + +<p>"The afternoon almost tempts me to cut +the Beaux Arts," said Paul.</p> + +<p>"By the way, how are you getting on +there?" asked Miss Brooke.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> + +<p>He was only too eager to tell her of his +progress, and to discuss his chances of a +medal. He also gave her an account of the +new friends he had made—he liked the American +"boys" very much, was indebted to +them for endless kindnesses.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you look up Charlie?" she +asked suddenly.</p> + +<p>"How could I?" he asked, annoyed at the +mention of the man's name, reminding him, +as it did, of the apparent and inexplicable +intimacy between the two, and also telling +him they must already have seen each +other.</p> + +<p>"You could easily have found him if you +had inquired among the boys. He lives in his +studio and he has scarcely left it the whole +time I've been away. By the way, you remember +Katharine, don't you? She's married +again. To her editor this time. This is my +school."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> + +<p>They came to a standstill and faced each +other to say "good-bye."</p> + +<p>"I scarcely feel like working this afternoon," +observed Miss Brooke. "My laziness +really overpowers my ambition. Did you not +say something before, Mr. Middleton, about +your being tempted to cut the Beaux Arts? +Do be nice and yield to that temptation. I +want to give way to mine so badly, but being +a woman I daren't do anything unless +somebody else is doing it at the same +time."</p> + +<p>Paul's fibres of resistance did not relax +gradually; they collapsed all at once.</p> + +<p>"Well," he laughed. "I've been so good +all along, I think I've earned the right to play +truant for once."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Middleton! That's bringing morality +into it again, and I wanted to indulge in undiluted +wickedness. You have to carry my +box as I'm sufficiently occupied in holding up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +my skirts. I'll give you some tea afterwards +as a reward."</p> + +<p>They strolled slowly in the sunshine, making +for the river and crossing by the Pont des +Arts; and passed through the Jardins des +Tuileries, where the freshness of the greens, +and the playing fountains, and the leafy trees, +and the pretty children, and the odour of lilac +proclaimed the spring. They sauntered across +the Place de la Concorde and into the shady +avenues of the Champs Elysées, where huge +spots of sunlight freckled the ground; talking +the while of the life of the city, of the foreign +elements, of the Old and New Salons. Miss +Brooke explained how her own day was +spent. Seven o'clock in the morning found +her punctually at school, and she worked two +hours before taking her <i>café au lait</i>, afterwards +continuing till midday. In the afternoon +she usually copied and studied at the +Louvre or Luxembourg. Such had been the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +routine of her work before, and she had had +no difficulty in falling into it again. She +could not hope to exhibit even next year, as +she could neither afford a studio nor the expense +of models. At the present she was living +with some friends at their <i>appartement</i> in +the Avenue de Wagram. After their departure +at the end of May she would enter into +the <i>pension</i>, which was within a stone's +throw of her school.</p> + +<p>Paul, eagerly listening to all these details, +was only conscious in a far-off way of the +eternal roll of smart carriages in the roadway, +or of the multitude of children playing under +the trees in charge of <i>bonnes</i>, whilst the mammas +sat about on chairs, chatting, or with +books or needlework. Onward the pair +strolled past the Arc de Triomphe and down +the great Avenue into the Bois de Boulogne, +only stopping to rest by the laughing lake. +Here the appeal of the water and the moored<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +boats soon became irresistible. They fleeted +the remainder of the afternoon ideally, till +Miss Brooke announced it was time to repair +to the Avenue de Wagram. Paul was +afraid of her friends—he was scarcely presentable.</p> + +<p>"Be calm, my friend," she reassured +him. "We shall have a nice little tea all +to ourselves. The others have gone to +Versailles and are only coming back in +time to dine. We dine <i>chez nous</i>, as we +have a <i>bonne</i> who cooks. Of course I +can't be in to <i>déjeuner</i>, as the distance is +too great from my school. You must come +one evening and I'll present you."</p> + +<p>He thanked her for the suggestion, glad +to welcome every arrangement that promised +in any way to throw their lives together, +for he had been not a little afraid he might +not after all have the opportunity of seeing +very much of her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> + +<p>As Miss Brooke made the tea in +the pretty drawing room of the cosy flat, +Paul began to realise with surprise how +much progress their friendship had made +in that one day. His dream had turned +out true! He was so happy that the consciousness +of all but the moment faded +from him. London, his mother, Celia, +and even chess were for the time absolutely +non-existent. "Charlie," too, was +forgotten, as the obnoxious name had +not again dropped from Miss Brooke's +lips.</p> + +<p>He took his leave at last, filled with joy +by Miss Brooke's promise to run in on the +morrow to <i>déjeuner</i> at the same little restaurant. +But as he turned from the broad +stairway into the hall, he almost collided +in his pre-occupation with a tall well-dressed +man. Both murmured "<i>Pardon!</i>" +and pursued their ways. Paul had seen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +the other's face, but he had taken several +steps forward before the features sank +into his brain, and he realised with a +great shock they were those of "Charlie."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">However</span>, Miss Brooke said nothing to +him about Charlie in the days that followed, +though he saw her often. Without it being +specially mentioned again, it was somehow +understood they were, for the present, to +meet at mid-day at the little restaurant, and, +moreover, she allowed him to take her several +times to the two Salons. He might +easily have dragged in references to Pemberton, +but he felt it would not be right +to do so for the mere purpose of discovering +what it would have been an impertinence +to demand outright.</p> + +<p>And the more his <i>camaraderie</i> with Miss +Brooke became an established fact, the more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +did this question of Charlie disturb him. +He had discovered by this time that a +harmless friendship between a man and a +girl was by no means unusual among the +students and was not necessarily assumed +to imply matrimonial intentions. He knew, +moreover, that such friendships grew rapidly +on this soil where the English-speaking students +gravitated together during the years +of their voluntary exile. But, if this thought +pacified him as to Miss Brooke and Charlie, +the very pacification carried with it a sting. +For it led to the further tormenting suspicion +that Miss Brooke did not take the +relationship between her and himself as +seriously as he would have liked her to. +Her conduct and bearing towards him were +all he could wish, yet he seemed to feel +behind them a stern limit to the intimacy, +a barrier, as it were, that might bear on +its face: "I am put here by way of giving<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +you a reminder you are not to make +any mistakes as to the extent of your +rights over this property."</p> + +<p>Sometimes, indeed, in envisaging the +position, he came to the conclusion that +this was entirely due to his own imagination +and that he might safely ask her to +share his life. But at that point uncertainty +would rise again, warning him that to +make any such impulsive proposition just +then might be to jeopardise the future of +his romance. The remembrance of the distress +caused him by his effort to determine +the precise degree of Celia's claim on +him by reason of his having engaged her +for five dances in the same evening intruded +in grotesque contrast now that he +was endeavouring to determine the precise +degree of his claim on Miss Brooke.</p> + +<p>Despite these prickings, and despite +Charlie, sweetness predominated in his life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +He felt untrammelled and unwatched over, +recalling with a shudder the old strands that +had tethered him. Though he wrote regularly +to his mother, whom he had seen twice +last autumn, on her way southward and on +her return, all reference to Miss Brooke was +excluded from his letters. He would not +discuss his relation to her with anybody +else, foreseeing that would only lead to a +deal of useless and perhaps endless talk.</p> + +<p>After Miss Brooke had moved to the <i>pension</i>, +where she had arranged to take all +her meals, he no longer saw her every +day. But it was understood he could take +his chance of finding her at home whenever +he chose to call in the evenings. +She generally received him in her little +oblong sitting-room on the second floor, +that opened out on a pleasant balcony, +overlooking the street. He soon grew to +love this room, to the decorations of which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +she had added a huge Japanese umbrella, +which hung from the ceiling, and two Japanese +lights, and a piece of Oriental tapestry, +besides her personal nicknacks. Paul's usual +lounging-place, whilst Miss Brooke gave him +his after-dinner coffee, was an old cretonne-covered +ottoman, on which a broken spring +made a curious hump, and over his head +were suspended some book-shelves. Now +and again he would find other callers, of +both sexes, for Miss Brooke was "at +home" once a week to all her friends. +Of course, Paul did not abuse his privilege, +but firmly restricted the number of his visits. +Occasionally, too, he had the happiness of +taking her to dine at some one or other +of the great cafés on the Grands Boulevards, +and they would stroll back together +along the river bank, enchanted by the +wonderful nocturnes. On Sunday sometimes, +they would make an excursion beyond<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +the fortifications to some rural spot, +she taking her paint-box and sketching +lazily whilst they talked; and if, on rare +afternoons, he left his work, and looked in +at the Luxembourg to find her deftly plying +her brush in her big blue coarse linen +apron, with its capacious pockets, she +seemed by no means displeased.</p> + +<p>Every legitimate topic was talked over +between them. He had long since exhausted +the theme of his own life, that +is, he had told it so far as he cared to +tell it. Celia, for one thing, did not appear +in it, and there were one or two little matters +he was especially careful to suppress. +He felt vaguely saint-like, when, in the +course of this judicious selection from his +biography, he arrived at his slumming experiences, +and hinted at his charities, which +were being continued during his absence. +Miss Brooke repaid the confidence in kind,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +enabling him, by her various reminiscences, +to reconstruct a fairly continuous account of +her existence, which, it never struck him, +might also be selected.</p> + +<p>They drifted, too, into the realm of ideas, +exchanging their notions on—among other +things—love and platonic friendship. They +discussed the last-mentioned phenomenon in +great detail, Paul, aflame with self-consciousness, +but quite unable to pierce beneath the +sphinx-like demeanour with which Miss +Brooke made her impartial and freezingly +impersonal statements. From ideas they +passed on to the consideration of conduct +and how it should be determined under +divers subtle conditions.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but don't you really think that +one <i>ought</i> to listen to such an appeal +<i>if</i>. . . . ," she would gravely interpose +with her sweet voice as her brush made +sensuous strokes on the canvas. And Paul<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +became more and more impressed with the +nobility of her soul, and strove likewise—as +was but natural in the circumstances—to +impress her with the nobility of his. He +usually felt ethically perfect after such conversations, +and, had the occasion immediately +arisen, it would have found him equal +to acting along the lines of the "ought" +laid down by Miss Brooke. He imagined +that he certainly was receiving endless +benefit from this threshing out of things +with a quick and sympathetic personality.</p> + +<p>So ran by a couple of months, "Charlie" +continuing to be the chief cause of disturbance +in Paul's existence. The two men had +by now met several times at Miss Brooke's, +had saluted civilly, but had little to say to +each other. Paul felt sure his hatred was +returned, and neither showed the least disposition +to become better acquainted. Neither +asked the other to dine or drink, or play<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +billiards, or even to walk with him, and if +rarely they passed in the street a nod was +all they exchanged. The lines of their lives +occasionally met in a point, but never ran +together.</p> + +<p>The enmity between them only became +irksome when no others were present, but +never did Miss Brooke herself manifest the +least suspicion of it. Whatever the relation +between Miss Brooke and Pemberton, it +never seemed to interfere in practice with +the relation between Miss Brooke and himself. +She alluded to "Charlie" in her talk +much more freely than heretofore, but always +apropos, always impersonally, just as +she might casually mention Katharine, who +was so happy now. Charlie had such and +such a habit, such and such a way of looking +at things, such and such ideas of art.</p> + +<p>But Paul's jealousy grew till he became +well-nigh intolerable to himself. It made him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +resort to underhand watchings, from the mere +thought of which, in saner moments, he +shrank with shame and remorse. But he had +thus ascertained that Charlie was, if anything, +a more frequent visitor than himself, and had +less scruples in the matter of standing on ceremony.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">One</span> night Paul was at the Opera when he +caught sight of Miss Brooke and Pemberton +with her. His evening was spoilt and he left +at once. He felt both angry and hurt, for he +had seen her for a few minutes in the afternoon, +and she had said nothing about her +plans for the evening beyond warning him it +was highly probable she might not be at +home.</p> + +<p>The climax had come. He was determined +that things should not continue as they +were. If Miss Brooke simply regarded their +connection as a mere students' companionship, +agreeable to both parties but strictly temporary, +then he must end it immediately. Miss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +Brooke must at once be made aware of what +this friendship meant to him. What he had +so far deemed inexpedient seemed to him +the only expediency—to stake all on one +coup.</p> + +<p>In the stress of the crisis the prejudices +that were his by inheritance and teaching, +and that his new life had caused to slumber, +asserted themselves again, crying aloud +against these friendships. Miss Brooke ought +never to have expected him to be proof +against that sort of thing, of which he had +never had experience. Pemberton might be +able and content to flutter round without hurt, +but he himself had been a lost man from the +beginning.</p> + +<p>It soothed him to map out the future as he +wished it to be, and all seemed so natural and +reasonable that, if she cared for him in the +least, she could not but admit his views on +every point. He felt himself filled with an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +infinite longing, an infinite tenderness. He +would surround her with his love so that +escape from it should be impossible. It should +permeate every fibre of her being, and she +should in the end come to him and give up +everything to fulfil the duties of a wife, presiding +over his household, absorbing herself in +his career, and giving all her thought to the +unity their two lives would constitute. Of +course, she could paint in such time as was +left to her, and any glory she might achieve +would redound to the credit of his name. +Still when a woman had once become a wife, +he argued, her ambition generally faded. +Wifehood was absorbing. Greater glory than +that of being a perfect wife there could +not be.</p> + +<p>A few days later, when his emotion had +somewhat calmed down, and he could trust +himself sufficiently to see her, he called at the +<i>pension</i>, but, as had happened occasionally<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +from the beginning, he did not find her at +home. So the next morning he sent her a +great heterogeneous mass of flowers with the +half-jesting, half-reproachful hope they might +meet with better fortune than he. Whereupon +he immediately received a letter explaining +she had passed the previous evening with +some very nice people in the Avenue Kléber, +and announcing her intention of taking him +there on the morrow. Would he dine early +and call for her? She thanked him for the +flowers in a postscript, saying they had transformed +her room into a veritable bower.</p> + +<p>At the time appointed he climbed the well-known +two flights of stairs and the <i>bonne</i> +showed him into the little room, saying <i>mademoiselle</i> +would join him "in a little minute." +Several big minutes passed, and then the +door-hanging was pushed aside and Miss +Brooke stood smiling at him. She had always +appealed to his æsthetic side, giving him the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +sense of contemplating an exquisite piece of +art-work; but the particular impression he +had to-night differed from all previous ones. +Her figure seemed slenderer in its black net +evening dress, covered with bead-work that +glistened with a wonderful shading of green +into blue and blue into green. Above the turquoise-blue +velvet trimming of the bodice, her +long neck made a dazzling whiteness, and her +face looked pink and babyish, whilst her curls +lay about with just a shade more severity than +usual. She wore a necklace of turquoises set +in antique gold, and in her hair was a big gold +comb inset with the same stones, irregularly +cut. The note of colour thus given made her +blue eyes appear like two large jewels amid +the constellation. Paul told himself he had +never realised before <i>how</i> beautiful those eyes +were. The lightly-parted lips intensified the +babyishness, so that she ceased to be the independent, +self-willed girl, fitting in rather<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +with that other conception he had lingered on +as the ideal she might develop into as his wife—a +woman clinging to her husband and glad +of his strength.</p> + +<p>He was sure he saw her now as she really +was. The conditions of her life were alone to +blame for forcing on her the necessity of a +career. Woman's true sphere was the home. +An outside existence subjected to hardening +influences a delicate soul whose very nature +was to thirst for tender nurture and love. +Such had always been his mother's conviction; +such was his fervent belief. The association +of Miss Brooke with money-earning +seemed an ugly blot on the universe.</p> + +<p>There seemed, too, a tenderer, more intimate +quality in her voice, and a sort of clinging +in her touch as she went down the +stairway with her hand on his arm. That forbidding +barrier of which he had always been +conscious had vanished!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's the McCook's last 'At-Home,'" she +explained, as the <i>voiture</i> began to move. +"They are such nice people—I'm sure you'll +like them. Dora's an old college chum of +mine, and she's asked me to stay with her to-night. +Dora and I chat such a deal when we +get together, and we always enjoy sitting up +nice and quiet by ourselves after everybody +else has gone. I told her you would +escort me home, but she seemed quite +shocked at the idea. As if you haven't escorted +me back from the theatre! Dora has +become quite conventional since her marriage. +She used to argue with her mother and do +pretty well as she liked not so very long ago. +Now I believe her mother shocks her sometimes. +She's leaving with her husband in a +few days for Perros-Guirec, and they're going +to take me with them."</p> + +<p>Her words rang with a childlike joy. He +asked where Perros-Guirec was in a voice that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +was somewhat desolate at the prospect of losing +her.</p> + +<p>"It's in Brittany—a whole day's journey +from Paris. I was there two years ago, and +sketched most of the time. Everybody is +thinking of leaving now, the heat will soon be +getting unbearable. The Grand Prix has been +run, the Battle of Flowers has been fought, +and the Allée de Longchamps is deserted. All +the smart people are in <i>villégiature</i>. How +nice is the evening after the sultry day!"</p> + +<p>They were passing through the Boulevard +St. Germain. Miss Brooke was sitting just +close enough to Paul for them to touch with +the swaying of the carriage. He felt singularly +happy. The hushed sounds of the city +over which the dusk hung mystic came to +him like a soft sustained tone of music; its +lights gleamed in upon them with magic rays. +He was conscious of the great dark masses of +palaces, of shadowy pedestrians moving noiselessly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +on the side-paths. No fever in the air +now, only a far-reaching calm.</p> + +<p>"The night makes one almost sorry to +leave Paris," resumed Miss Brooke. Her voice +made the harmonies sweeter, blending them +all into one perfect harmony.</p> + +<p>"But the breezes, and the woods, and the +rye-fields, and the farm-houses with their delicious +old oak presses, and the kind-hearted +people, and the quaint children who love to +watch you sketch and see you squeeze the +paint out of the tubes—the memory of all +these things draws you back to them. I long +for Brittany almost as much as I once longed +to leave everything and everybody and be just +myself—and by myself. It seems so long ago +now."</p> + +<p>She had almost unconsciously moved +closer to him now.</p> + +<p>"Won't you tell me when that was—Lisa?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was the first time he had dared to call +her by this name. In his longing to utter it in +articulate speech it had rushed to the tip of his +tongue.</p> + +<p>"It was three years ago—before I came +here. Every place had associations that hurt +me. I wanted to get away—to work, work, +work. I seemed to hate everybody. So I +came here, and for months I thought I was as +hard as a stone. Then one day I found myself +angry with a girl—a fellow-student—and I +was quite surprised to find I could feel at all. +And then I was suddenly glad I was a human +being again."</p> + +<p>Her voice melted away into the vast +murmur of the soft-twinkling city. Beyond +the fact that he was selfishly glad she had +had trouble—it afforded him the exquisite +pleasure of sympathy—there was no active +thought in him now, no estimation of the +position. His soul alone dominated; it had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +been moved to responsiveness and it now +wrought out its mood, subtly surrounding +her, he felt, with its comfort.</p> + +<p>They crossed the mysterious, glistening +river, and came upon the myriad flame-points +of the Place de la Concorde. They +turned into the Champs Elysées betwixt +woods enchanted by the sorcerer Night; +catching glimpses of palaces of light amid +the trees whence melody came floating, +mingled with the incense of the summer.</p> + +<p>"Won't you tell me, Lisa—that is, if +you think you can trust me."</p> + +<p>It was sweet to exercise the privilege of +calling her "Lisa." He felt it was his for +always now.</p> + +<p>"I know I can trust you, Paul. Would +you really care to hear? Of course you +would," she continued quickly, giving him +no time to reply. "What a silly question +for me to ask! Still there is little to tell!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +I loved a man. We were to be married. +His mind was poisoned against me by an +enemy. He was harsh and unjust. A few +words sum all up. He is married to another. +A commonplace chapter, is it not? +But to have lived through it—to have lived +through it!"</p> + +<p>He grew dazed and white. "To have +lived through it!" Those simple words +seemed to his comprehending mood athrob +with the sobbing of great grief.</p> + +<p>"But you do not love him now?" he +breathed.</p> + +<p>"No, no! All is over now. But I +brooded and brooded and thought—the experience +made me a woman. Life is a serious +thing to me now. I feel better and +stronger for what I have suffered. But the +memory remains."</p> + +<p>"You have nothing to reproach yourself +with, Lisa. Surely there are happier memories<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +in store for you. It is for you but to +shape the future."</p> + +<p>He longed for her impulsive "How?" +and had his answer ready. It seemed a +strange thing, but this confession of a past +love, this telling of a great sorrow in her +life, had wrought a spell upon him. His +eyes were full of tears. In that moment +his love for her seemed to have increased +a thousandfold. The surprise with which +the revelation had overwhelmed him was +lost in the rush of pity. She had suffered, +and by his love he would make everything +up to her.</p> + +<p>But now there came a sudden change, +slight in its outward manifestation, but felt +by him like a chill blast, for his soul vibrated +to hers, registering every subtle +shade of her mood. She did not speak +immediately, and he knew that moment of +silence was fatal.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> + +<p>They had passed the round point of the +Champs Elysées, and the woods and gardens +had ended. Only the giant <i>hôtels</i> +rose on either hand. There seemed more +carriages darting about now, a greater +movement of life, a general sense of disenchantment +in the air, of an awakening +from a dream to the clattering reality of +things. Paul realised that the spell was +broken.</p> + +<p>Miss Brooke had turned her head for a +moment to look through the window.</p> + +<p>"We shall be there in two or three +minutes now," she said, as a sort of natural +outcome of her ascertaining their exact +whereabouts. "I am afraid I must +rather have depressed you. It is scarcely +courteous to our hostess for us to arrive +in so gloomy a mood."</p> + +<p>She gave a little laugh which set his +every nerve a-tingle, so certainly did its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +ring lack the appealing quality that had +brought him so close to her. It seemed +to thrust him back abruptly and brutally.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Paul, haven't you ever had +any love affairs?" she went on to ask, and +there was a suspicion of banter in her tone. +"I've told you all about my tragedy, now +tell me about yours or all yours. I know +we've told each other all our lives before, +but of course we both bowdlerized. The +most interesting parts have yet to be +told."</p> + +<p>As she had asked him a direct question +he felt constrained to answer it. He found +himself considering whether his relation to +Celia need count as a love affair, but he +was so convinced he had never been in +love with her at all that he decided he +could leave her out without doing violence +to his conscience. Altogether there had been +in his life two very minor and foolish amourettes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +that might have became entanglements; +one with a barmaid when he was +in the lawyer's office, some of the clerks +having persuaded him the girl "was gone +on him," the other with a simple maiden of +sixteen, the daughter of a market gardener, +which idyll had proceeded at his father's +country seat. Paul told the latter—it was +a boyish passion that had come to nothing +and stood for nothing in his life; the former +he was ashamed of. "I proposed to her +and gave her a mortal fright. She was so +scared she ran away. We were both shamefaced +when we met again, and my spurt of +pluck was at an end. I dared not say another +word to her, and somehow we drifted +out of being sweethearts. I was barely nineteen +at the time."</p> + +<p>Miss Brooke laughed again heartily, but +Paul only felt the gloomier.</p> + +<p>"Tell me some more, please. You put<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +me into quite a cheerful humour. What +was your next love affair?"</p> + +<p>She had resumed her old militant badinage.</p> + +<p>"There is nothing more in my biography +that is likely to entertain you," he answered +evasively.</p> + +<p>"Is it so bad as that, Paul? I think you +might tell me all the same. I'm not easily +shocked."</p> + +<p>"You mistake me. I have told you all," +he replied, driven to the lie direct.</p> + +<p>"Come, come, Mr. Paul. In a woman +one might expect such a want of candour. +But suppose I tell you <i>my</i> other affairs—will +that encourage you to tell me yours? Is it +a bargain?"</p> + +<p>"Your other affairs?" he repeated.</p> + +<p>"Did you imagine I've had only one in +my life? That's paying me a very poor +compliment. This is our destination."</p> + +<p>"Why do you tease me, Lisa?" he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +asked, as they descended. He was relieved +that the drive had come to an end. It +had been a trying time for him. He wondered +what it was all coming to? Just +when the critical moment had come she +had practically inhibited him from speaking. +She was a strange, baffling girl, and he was +helpless in her hands.</p> + +<p>"I'm not teasing you, I simply want to +finish my confessions. You must dance +three dances with me, and talk to me a +lot after. Perhaps I shall succeed in softening +you and then you'll be more tractable. +We dance till midnight. After that we sup +and converse till dawn. It seems there are +special complications and permissions for +dancing and music in the small hours, as one's +neighbours above and below are apt to want +to sleep just then. Dora shirked the bother, +especially as her French is so weak and +her husband's worse."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> + +<p>They went up the stairway and were +warmly welcomed by Mrs. McCook. It +was a pleasant gathering of nice-looking +men and pretty girls, but Paul was only +half alive to it. To him it was scarcely +more than a mere background for the further +development of his drama. So far he +took these further love-affairs of Miss Brooke +as the purest make-believe, but all the same +he was curiously uneasy and anxious to +hear what she had in mind to tell him.</p> + +<p>When he could talk to her again, he +could discover no trace in her manner of +her having lived through with him a supreme +emotional moment. The softness +that had given him a glimpse of infinite +love, and which he had perhaps hoped +might reveal itself again, was absent; in its +place the old niceness and the frank friendliness +of comradeship, and with them the +old warning to him to stand back. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +proceeded to give him the promised account +of her various lovers in a light, mocking +mood.</p> + +<p>"I began very early, much earlier than +your simple country maiden. My memories +of childhood are rather hazy, but I should +say I must have had a lover before I was +out of my cradle. But I was thirteen before +my heart was really moved. Since +then I have been in love with so many +men that I really can't remember half of +them. However, I'll try and pick out those +that affected me most seriously at the time. +The first one was really a very nice schoolboy. +His idea of love-making was to feed me +incessantly with candy, which he did for a +whole year till I fell a victim to the charms +of another boy. The two fought. Both +emerged from the combat with black eyes, +which rather spoilt their beauty, and therefore +killed my interest in them. It required<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +quite an heroic effort, though, to refuse +their offerings."</p> + +<p>"And was this method of love-making +as satisfying to them as it was to you?" +asked Paul, beginning to be confirmed in +his supposition that Miss Brooke was joking.</p> + +<p>"Oh, we used to have clandestine meetings +and we used to kiss, of course. That +made me rather tired of them. They wanted +to be kissing the whole time."</p> + +<p>Paul had a momentary vertigo, though he +professed by his manner to be listening in the +same spirit as Miss Brooke narrated.</p> + +<p>"The first one was always a nice boy even +when he grew up and was always ready to +fall in love with me again. But one fine day +he got engaged, wrote to tell me about it, and +asked me to congratulate him. He married. +That finishes with him.</p> + +<p>"The next interesting one was a college<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +man. I was about sixteen then and at the +height of my musical ambition. He was +musical, too, in fact quite an enthusiast. He +used to pilot me about to concerts and send +me tickets for the opera. Besides I was struggling +then with Latin, Greek, and Conic Sections, +and he used to help me polish off things—for +selfish reasons, of course."</p> + +<p>"And used you to kiss this time as well?" +he asked, no longer questioning that he was +hearing her personal history.</p> + +<p>"Only at very sentimental moments," she +replied, apparently overlooking the mockery +in his voice. "I was older and a greater expert +in emotions. One's first experiments are +necessarily crude. But, to proceed, my cavalier +lost his head one day and wanted me to +marry him at once, which was rather absurd. +So I had to give him his <i>congé</i> and accept the +attentions of a less violent lover. I had always +a reserve to draw upon, but so long as a man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +behaved nicely and didn't get altogether unreasonable, +I let it accumulate. My musical +friend, however, gave me some trouble. We +had several stormy interviews, and at last I had +positively to refuse to see him. One fine day +he, too, got engaged and wrote to me asking +me to congratulate him. I know he was divorced +some time since, but I've completely +lost sight of him."</p> + +<p>At this moment Miss Brooke was led away +to dance, but was able to join him again before +very long.</p> + +<p>"The next——" were her first words, in +a mock-solemn, long-drawn-out tone, as she +took his arm and then she broke into laughter. +"The next was a tall Southerner with nice +manners, a soft voice, and a pretty way of +calling me 'ma'am.' He, too, was musical—naturally, +I preferred musical lovers then. The +Colonel, as everybody called him, literally +worshipped me, but he was as poor as a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +church mouse, and I used to think myself very +noble to be satisfied to get stuck with him in +back seats at concert-halls. He went back +South after graduating, swearing he'd never +forget me; but, as soon as he'd made his fortune, +he was coming back to marry me. I +thought that if the illusion would help him to +make his fortune, he might as well keep it. +In any case I should have given him cause to +be grateful to me. He wrote to me half-a-dozen +times, then there was a break of some +months; and, when I had almost forgotten +him, one fine day I got a letter from him."</p> + +<p>"Announcing his engagement and asking +you to congratulate him," said Paul, with bitterness.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I think you may take that for +granted. It is what they all do. Is it any use +my telling you more? I'm beginning to think +the recital is getting monotonous. And then +there are some coming along and I can't remember<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +the exact order, which came before +which."</p> + +<p>She seemed to hurry over her last words as +though impatient to be done, and wearied and +bored by the memory of all these dallyings +with sentiment. The mocking merriment appeared +also to have died out of her face and +voice. She gazed idly at the dancers who, in +the restricted space, almost constantly brushed +up against them as they stood pressed close to +the wall. Paul wondered if he were looking +haggard. The air of careless merriment he +had at first forced himself to assume had given +way, as he listened, to a sort of nervous +apathy. The one great passion of hers she +had confided to him had drawn him closer to +her by its intrinsic dignity. It had appealed +to his finer nature, stirring it to its very +depths. But these later revelations of hers revolted +him by their very pettiness. What had +her parents been at that such a girl had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +allowed to run wild in that fashion? It was +monstrous she had not been supervised and +prevented from stooping to these foolish and +frivolous relations with foolish and frivolous +men—men she had allowed to kiss her lips!</p> + +<p>The pang that tore him at the image revealed +to him how powerless he was. He +glanced at her again as she stood at his side. +There was a half-sad expression now on her +face, which had resumed all its babyishness +again. The lock of hair near her ear lay about +in a dainty twist. Her lips showed innocent +and red. To kiss them <i>he</i> would lay down +his life!</p> + +<p>He was shaken; he wanted to sob aloud. +But he was at a festive gathering. Round, +round, up and down the room went the +dancers, shuffling forward with their rapid +glide, the men bending their long, supple +bodies, the flowing curves of the women's +dresses imparting a greater grace to the movement.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +The whole scene was dreamy to him. +His inner thought was the only reality.</p> + +<p>Why had she told him, why had she told +him? he moaned within himself. Then as he +saw a new softness appear in her face, a +gleam of comfort came to him. Perhaps it +had been from motives of conscience and she +really repented all; perhaps, too, she had +thought it right to tell him everything before +allowing him to ask her to be his.</p> + +<p>He would overlook all those episodes if +only she would be his. If even they had been +more serious, if even she had been a dishonoured +woman, he knew now he would have +had no strength not to condone. If any one +had told him a year ago that he—Paul—would +one day be both willing and eager to make +such concessions as regards the past of a +woman he contemplated making his wife, he +would have denied the statement indignantly +as a libel on himself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> + +<p>She turned suddenly, and their looks met. +Her face lighted up with a smile. "Come, +Paul, it's your turn now?"</p> + +<p>"My turn!" he echoed, her words for +the moment startlingly sounding like an invitation +to take his place in the procession of +her lovers.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. "Who was your +sweetheart after the gardener's daughter?"</p> + +<p>He denied any further love, though hating +to tell the lie. But Miss Brooke persisted, +entreating, provoking, urging, coaxing, pouting; +subtly transforming herself into the +child with its lovable moods and movements; +enslaving him, rendering him powerless +at her will, with this one strange +exception—he could be strong enough to +withhold from her the episode he was +ashamed of.</p> + +<p>"Paul, Paul," she said sternly. "Tell +the truth. Are you not in love now?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> + +<p>He scarcely dared look at her. He was +conscious of that lock again and of another +on her forehead.</p> + +<p>"Silence betrays. Did you come to Paris +for the sake of your architecture or to be +near me?"</p> + +<p>"To be near you, Lisa," he breathed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Although</span> the thought of Lisa's old flirtations +obtruded and pricked occasionally, Paul +went about the next morning in a state of +subdued happiness. A wonderful calm had +come over him, disturbed only at the moments +when he had to thrust from him those +images of other men kissing Lisa's lips. +Those meaningless loves had been long dead, +he argued, and, since she had made the confession +voluntarily at the risk of estranging +his love, it would be unfair to her for him +to dwell upon them now.</p> + +<p>At the same time he could never have +conceived the possibility of such a line of +argument on his part in the days before he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +had met Miss Brooke. Love had, indeed, +set at naught all the principles he had thought +to abide by—had made him yield his demand +for that absolute soul-virginity he had deemed +the very basis of his choice.</p> + +<p>But away with all that now! Her love +for him was, of a surety, the first that had +come into her life since her great sorrow. +As for Pemberton, there had never been the +slightest sentiment between her and him. +No doubt the fellow would now take a suitable +place in the background of their life, and +they would welcome him as an acquaintance. +Why should he bear the man animosity?</p> + +<p>He could not do any work that morning, +but strolled hither and thither, getting joyous +impressions from the sun-lit city. Lisa had +not only promised to dine in the evening at +the Café Pousset and afterwards to go with +him to see a melodrama at the Ambigu, +most of the other theatres having closed their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +doors, but she had given him permission to +take his holiday at Perros-Guirec during the +whole two months of her stay there, so that he +would be virtually one of the party. The +immediate outlook was, therefore, very agreeable.</p> + +<p>He returned to the <i>maison meublée</i> where +his quarters were, immediately after his mid-day +meal, and passed the afternoon packing +away his luggage, which occupation gave +him the pleasurable feeling that his preparations +for the happy time to come were in +full swing. He sang and whistled as he +worked, his overflowing vigour manifesting +itself in the bold ornamental letters with +which he made out the labels for his trunks: +"Middleton, Paris à Perros-Guirec." At +half-past five he began to think of taking +a stroll before dinner, and was on the +point of doing so when the <i>concierge</i> +brought him up a letter with the characteristic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +explanation that it had come in the +morning, shortly after monsieur had gone out, +and that he had forgotten about it as monsieur +passed by before.</p> + +<p>Paul recognised his mother's writing, and +stayed to read it. At first it did not seem +to contain anything of special importance, +covering much the same ground as many of +its predecessors, and dealing with one or +two business matters. On the third page +came a reproach that he had allowed three +weeks go by without writing.</p> + +<p>"I can understand," continued his mother, +"that all those hours of engrossing work +every day must leave you quite fatigued, my +poor child. But surely I am very reasonable +in my demands, and one letter a week is +not such a very heavy tax on you. Are you +sure you are not overworking yourself, dear +Paul? You were always a delicate child, +and you are certainly not strong enough to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +go on living in a French hotel, with only +strangers to look after you. Don't you think +you ought to take a long holiday now? I +am going to take Celia to Dieppe—it has +all been decided and arranged to-day. The +poor child has been worried and fretting +and poorly for a long time past, and sadly +needs this entire change of scene. Now +suppose, dear Paul, you come and join us at +Dieppe. You will be near to me, and I +can look after you again, if only for a +couple of months. We shall be starting +the day after to-morrow, and we shall be +staying at the Hôtel de Paris. Write to +me, dear Paul, direct there, or, better still, +come down and surprise us. Celia, I am +sure, will be <i>delighted</i> to see you. I never +understood what happened between you +two exactly. You said 'good-bye' so stiffly +that I made sure you had quarrelled, though +Celia assures me that was not so. She is a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +dear, good girl, and I love her as if she +were my own daughter."</p> + +<p>Of course he couldn't go. What a bother +to have to refuse! Why had they just fixed +on Dieppe when they might have gone to +Norway or taken a jaunt up to Scotland! +And then, too, confound it! they might even +make a descent upon him at Perros-Guirec, +for he would have to tell his mother that +was the place where he had already arranged +to spend his holiday with friends. +He must discuss the matter with Lisa before +replying to her or telling her of his +intended marriage.</p> + +<p>But he had scarcely time to digest the +letter before the man brought him up another +which the postman had just left. This +time the writing was Lisa's. What could +she have to write to him about if it were +not to postpone the evening's engagement? +His nervous fingers tore at the envelope.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Paul</span>.—Please don't come for me +this evening, and, indeed, you must never +come for me again. In writing this I am +acting the part of a very good friend to +you, and it is as a very good friend I +should like you to remember me, as I shall +always remember you.—Yours sincerely,</p> + +<div class='sig'> +"<span class="smcap">Elizabeth Brooke</span>."<br /> +</div></div> + +<p>So all was over! Behind the simplicity +of the words he perceived a terrible inexorableness. +If only she had signed "Lisa," +it would not have crushed him so much; +but the "Elizabeth Brooke" was paralyzing.</p> + +<p>When his hand was steady enough, he +wrote:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Lisa</span>:—Need I say your note has +quite stunned me? Won't you give me a +word of explanation? <span class="smcap">Paul</span>."</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> + +<p>The concierge's boy delivered this at Miss +Brooke's <i>pension</i>.</p> + +<p>He scarcely knew how he got through +the night. Every now and again he woke +up and tossed about; and when he did +lose consciousness, he had a sense of a +grey infinity in which there was a great +chasm. He wanted to rush to it to close it up, +but was held back by some strange power.</p> + +<p>The morning's post brought him Miss +Brooke's reply.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Paul</span>.—I am glad your letter is +so sensible and to the point. Of course I +owe you an explanation, but I want you +not to insist on it, because I fear it will +hurt you too much. The pain it would +give me I deserve.—Yours, <span class="smcap">Lisa</span>." +</p></div> + +<p>He found this note infinitely softer than +the first and was encouraged to write again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Lisa</span>.—I am not strong enough to +face the punishment unless I know my sin. +The pain of listening to you can be nothing +to the pain of this horrible gap in my +mind. Won't you let me see you—for the +last time? Remember it is only a day +since you told me you loved me. Don't +refuse. <span class="smcap">Paul</span>."</p></div> + +<p>To which came the reply by his own +messenger.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Paul</span>.—Come this evening at eight +and you will find me alone.—Yours,</p> + +<div class='sig'> +"<span class="smcap">Lisa</span>."<br /> +</div></div> + +<p>All day long he nerved himself for the +interview. He would rehearse nothing, anticipate +nothing. When the time came, he +would speak straight from his heart. Perhaps +he might yet move her.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Brooke</span> received him with the same +cheery frankness as of yore, gave him a +quick hand-shake, and installed him in his +old place on the knobby-springed ottoman +beneath the hanging book-shelves. The +little table was laid, as usual, for after-dinner +coffee, and the small copper kettle +was boiling over a spirit-lamp. She was +the first to speak.</p> + +<p>"You were right, Paul. I have been +thinking a good deal, and I have come to +agree with you that we ought to have a +last talk together. I am sensible that I am +a thoroughly unscrupulous person—please +don't contradict me, I mean it in sober<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +earnest—but I am not without my redeeming +moments, and so it happens I feel I +ought to make my apology to you before +we part. Apology! That is a very weak +word to use after my immoral behaviour +towards you. I mean to talk to you very +openly, in fact, I am going to confess the +whole extent of my misconduct. Only I +want you to believe that to do so will +hurt me if possible even more than you. +I really do want your sympathy very +badly, Paul, although I know I don't deserve +it."</p> + +<p>Her beautiful face was grave, and her +voice a shade anxious. In her eyes was +an expression of sincerity that compelled +acceptance.</p> + +<p>"I know you will make me understand +everything, Lisa," he said.</p> + +<p>"You must withhold your judgment till +I have finished. I am going to be absolutely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +candid, though I am not sure whether I +have ever succeeded in telling the truth +about things, the whole truth, and nothing +but the truth, even to myself. One shrinks +from laying bare the causes and motives +of one's thoughts and conduct, even when +no other eye is looking. But I should feel +myself quite vile now if I concealed the least +thing from you."</p> + +<p>"One can over-accentuate the baseness +of one's motives as well as cover it up," +he suggested.</p> + +<p>"It is very kind of you, Paul, to try and +spare me. But please save up your mercy; +I warn you I shall be sadly in need of it +later on. To come to facts now, Paul, I +have tried to victimise you from the beginning. +I have dissembled and told you +lies throughout. I have systematically acted +a part. I have never loved you."</p> + +<p>He tried to make some articulation, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +not a muscle moved. He sat as if turned +to stone.</p> + +<p>"That first evening we met I knew I +had turned your head, and I could see at +once you were inexperienced with women +as surely as if the fact had been branded +upon you. I had heard somebody point +you out and say you were worth fifteen +thousand pounds a year, and, as afterwards +you yourself told me you were rich, any +doubt I might have had on the point was +removed. My own poverty had just been +painfully brought home to me, for I had +been forced to leave Paris for want of +money at the very moment my ambition +began to look reasonable. I was feeling +particularly bitter about it as there was no +certainty at all of my being able to come +back here. Poppa's savings had all gone +in starting me with a good stock of dresses +and keeping me here two years. He had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +hoped to be able to do more for me, but +he could only send me my passage-money. +Fifteen or even ten thousand pounds a year +is a great temptation to a poor girl. Chance +had never yet thrown in my way a really +rich suitor, and there was I, at the moment +of meeting him, almost on the eve of departure, +with very little money in my pocket +and indebted to the kindness of a lady for +her invitation to stay the month in London. +She had taken my room for me as she could +not accommodate me at her own house. +You see how poor I was! I set myself +puzzling in the coolest possible way as to +how I could get you. Instinct as well as +the ease with which I had bewitched you +told me there were romantic possibilities in +you, of which you had scarcely any suspicion +and which might easily be played +upon. And a plan formed at once in my +mind in the ultimate success of which I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +had the fullest confidence. To put the idea +into your head that we meet again here in +a year's time was to appeal to your romantic +side. That is why I mentioned the Beaux +Arts to you—your love for architecture made +my game easy. I was now determined that +nothing should stand in the way of my returning +to Paris, that poppa somehow must +raise the necessary money—even if he ran +into debt. Happily he was able to send me +back and to see his way clear to keep me +going as long as I chose to stay."</p> + +<p>Miss Brooke paused a moment and poured +out Paul's coffee, which, however, he let stand +untouched.</p> + +<p>"Everything turned out just as I had calculated," +she continued, after taking a sip at +her own. "You had carried me in your mind +the whole time, and you had been waiting for +me and counting on my coming. So far I +was delighted. For a time all went smoothly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +You were mine completely. But then an unforeseen +force began suddenly to act on the position. +My old enthusiasm for my work came +back, and with it my old mad ambitions. Do +you know what first gave me those mad ambitions? +You shall hear in a moment. Anyway, +my old intolerance against anything like +dependence rose up in me. I wanted to make +a great name and a great deal of money, all by +myself. A picture by a great master—we admired +it together at the salon—had just sold +for thirty thousand dollars, and that inflamed +me. No woman painter has yet existed of +absolutely the first rank; one and all have +been influenced, more or less, by a man. I +wanted to be the first woman whose work +should be absolutely great, absolutely original. +I wanted the honour for America, for I am +proud of being an American woman. But you +were on the spot, and I had only to move my +little finger to get you. You were an eternal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +temptation. Don't you think I knew you +were jealous of Charlie? He has been in love +with me ever since I first came here; but, +poor devil, he only just manages to get along, +and is only too glad if he's not behindhand +with his studio rent. The reason I allowed +him to hang round so much was partly because +he had become a habit of mine, and +partly to help me not to be tempted to give +you too much of my company.</p> + +<p>"I really wanted to fight against the +temptation of your money, but more for my +own sake than yours. In the first place I did +not love you. And in the second, I could +read your nature like a book. Your ideas and +mine would never go together. I wanted a +husband who would be content with such +moments of love as I could spare him out of +my career; to whom I could go for love when +I wanted love; who would be content to live +out his own life and leave me to work out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +mine. I do not want to be kept by my husband—rather +than that I should prefer to keep +him. All my rooted independence had sprung +up as by magic the moment I took up my +brush and palette again and looked at the +model. Your notions were far too primitive +for me. You would have allowed me to go +on with my art as a concession—to do credit +to your name, perhaps. You would have +looked upon my pictures as sacred, to be +hung in your house and worshipped by you +before your guests; I should have wanted to +sell them, to convert them into dollars.</p> + +<p>"Do you wonder now I was strong +enough to hesitate? I was only too glad +when Dora said she was going to carry me off +to Perros-Guirec. It would take me away +from you and—temptation. Then you sent +me those flowers. I was touched. Not by +the flowers, but by the train of thought they +set going. The ghost of my conscience came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +up, suggesting I should be treating you badly, +seeing 'you had 'em so bad.' And then you +had, say, ten thousand pounds a year! That, +I suppose, had something to do with the rising +of the phantom. So I determined to take you +to Dora's—of course, she replied at once she +would be pleased to welcome you—and I +made up my mind, half to amuse myself, that +I would make you propose in the cab on the +way to her. I could read you through and +through, and knew your every thought. So +far I had kept you at a perceptible distance, +now it pleased me to draw you close to me, +and to see you obey without my uttering a +single word of command. I told you about +my old engagement just then because it gave +me a sensation of daring. I calculated on stirring +the romance and chivalry in you still +more deeply. The experiment was risky—but +it succeeded. You responded like a good +ship to its helm. Then for the first time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +since I had known you, Paul, I suffered remorse—real +remorse. Why it came just +then I have never been able to make out, +but all of a sudden I was dreadfully sorry +for you.</p> + +<p>"I saw clearly that even if I <i>had</i> loved +you, our lives could never harmonise; that +after the first honeymoon cooings, the conflict +of wills and ideas would inevitably set in, and +we should both be utterly and hopelessly miserable. +But I did <i>not</i> love you, and I felt myself +in a terrible dilemma. You were on the +point of speaking, and the only thing I could +think of to stop you, and to stop you for +always, was to tell you my early flirtations. +I was hoping to play on your prejudices and +set you against me. I was true to myself then; +I was throwing away—how many thousands +a year?</p> + +<p>"But I caused you suffering to no purpose, +and, as I realised nothing would make you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +desist, the temptation of all those thousands +came upon me again. I argued I was +the stronger personality of the two, and I +should be able to manage you—easily. Curious +how I accentuated the 'easily,' and +twisted my arguments to suit it. There was +little to do—I just pulled the wire and the +puppet worked. You'll forgive me for calling +you a puppet, Paul, but you were one, you +know.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps now you will begin to understand +how I felt the next morning. I really +liked you, Paul, and I had done you so great a +wrong from the very moment of our first +meeting. I had not cried for more than three +years, Paul, but I cried then. The situation +was desperate, and there was nothing for it +but to apply a desperate remedy.</p> + +<p>"I have not told you all. I have purposely +kept back something to the end. If I had +mingled it with the rest it would have been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +lost, and as it is my only claim on your sympathy, +I have kept it for use by itself. It is +unfortunate that even here I have to begin +with the confession of another lie, but I have +already confessed to so many, I am hoping +that one more won't make me sink any lower +in your estimation. Besides, my motive in +telling it was good. I refer to my old engagement +The fact was true, but the details I +gave you were false. I had intended telling +you the truth, but somehow it stuck on my +lips. I felt I ought never to have used so +sacred an experience for such a purpose. I +<i>had</i> to invent a lie as I went on. But I cut it +as short as I could.</p> + +<p>"I did love the man as, it seemed to me, +no woman could have loved a man before. +He was almost penniless, but I did not mind +that. I would have married him, and he +would not have interfered with my ambitions. +He would have been content to have me live<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +away from him whilst I worked according to +my own spirit, and developed the gifts he was +the first to discover in me. For he was a +painter, too; had starved to get a training in +Europe, had starved while getting it. To help +us get a start I was content at first to absorb +myself in his work. That was a fatal mistake. +I can scarcely trace out how it came about—and +to linger on it makes me suffer terribly—but +with the lapse of time I ceased to exist for +him as a creature of flesh and blood. I suddenly +realised that I had become a mere inspiration +to him—it was only the artist in me +he worshipped. All his heart and soul went +into his work—he was no longer a man, but a +mere mind wielding a brush. I can see him +how absorbed before his canvas, tall and thin +with his scholar's stoop—for Nesbit <i>was</i> a +scholar! But it had to end at last. I cried +bitterly for many a night after. I had a letter +from him one fine day——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Announcing his engagement and asking +you to congratulate him?" broke from Paul's +lips. His eyes were too dry for tears.</p> + +<p>"It is the only letter of his I haven't burnt. +He is famous now, but the first picture he +ever sold went to buy my turquoise necklace +to match the comb I had from my mother. +His example was a noble one—the first picture +I am offered money for shall go to poppa +instead. But he would never take the gift +back, and now I value it as his. It has always +given me great joy to wear it—in fact, +that is my one great joy apart from my +work."</p> + +<p>"You still love him! You have loved +him all through!" cried Paul.</p> + +<p>Her face softened. "You see I have quite +an extraordinary vein of sentiment in me. +I am not sure whether I am not ashamed +of it."</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Lisa—if I may still call you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +Lisa—all those flirtations you told me about +were true?"</p> + +<p>"What a quaint question! You haven't +drunk your coffee." He gulped down the +cold contents of the tiny cup at one draught, +for his mouth was parched.</p> + +<p>"They all happened just as I told you, +and I haven't told you a quarter."</p> + +<p>"And do you mind my asking you another +quaint question? Have you and Charlie +ever kissed?"</p> + +<p>"I have always liked to have nice men +kiss me. It is a mania with me, and I +shall go on doing so till the end of the +chapter."</p> + +<p>"All the same, Lisa, I love you still. Is +there no hope for me? I have no prejudices. +I want you, Lisa, just as you are. +Your life shall be perfectly free—your career +your own."</p> + +<p>"You are good, Paul, and I have played<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +with you precisely as a cat plays with a +mouse. You will have observed I have a +good deal of the cat in me. Believe me, +I am in earnest when I say I am quite +unworthy of your love——"</p> + +<p>"No, Lisa," he began.</p> + +<p>"Listen, Paul. I want you to understand +how much I love my lost darling. If he +were to leave his wife and child, now and +come to me and say he loved me, I would +go with him to the end of the earth. No, +no, Paul. My hope is only in my work. +I know I shall realise my ambition. Some +day you will marry a better woman than +I am. And if," she continued, with a +smile, "you care to write and let me +know, be sure I shall congratulate you +right heartily. Now tell me I have your +sympathy, and then let us say good-bye."</p> + +<p>"I love you, Lisa. Is that not sufficient<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +proof of my sympathy? I shall leave Paris +to-night."</p> + +<p>"Come, Paul, kiss me! For the first +time and last!"</p> + +<p>He brushed her lips so lightly that he +scarce had the consciousness of doing so; +then he staggered from the room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">He</span> wandered he knew not whither, penetrating +into strange, silent regions his foot +had never trod. At the end of an hour +he found he had taken a long circuit +round, and that he had arrived again at +the <i>hôtel</i> where Lisa lived. He crossed the +narrow street, and, standing in the shadow, +looked up at the window he knew so well. +It stood wide open, and he could see the +white ceiling of the lighted room, with the +huge Japanese umbrella making a glare of +colour against it. In the balcony sat two +figures full in the light that flooded out. +One was Miss Brooke, the other a stalwart +young man in a Norfolk suit he could not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +recollect having seen before. A vague sound +of their cheerful talking came down to him.</p> + +<p>He turned away with a sigh, and strode +rapidly to his lodging. He lighted his lamp, +and, sinking into a chair, sat looking at his +trunks. The labels with their bold ornamental +lettering—"Middleton, Paris à Perros-Guirec"—stared +him mockingly in the +face. He averted his eyes, instinctively +seeking in his pocket for his mother's letter, +which he had till now forgotten, and +was surprised to find it rolled into a ball. +Smoothing it out, he read it through +again.</p> + +<p>"Write to me, dear Paul, direct there, +or, better still, come down and surprise us. +Celia, I am sure, will be <i>delighted</i> to see +you. I never understood what happened +between you two exactly. You said 'good-bye' +so stiffly that I made sure you had +quarrelled, though Celia assures me that it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +was not so. She is a dear, good girl, +and I love her as if she were my own +daughter."</p> + +<p>And with these words he seemed to read +the inevitableness of his fate. His rebellion +against it was over. He had broken loose +from the maternal leading-strings, but had +made a miserable failure without them. +Now he would help to fix them on him +again.</p> + +<p>The millionaire's daughter, the keynote of +whose character had struck him as a charming, +simple frankness, and in pursuit of +whom he had set out, had proved to be +a more complex specimen of womanhood +than he could have imagined to exist, the +very essence of that femininity of which +he had always had an instinctive distrust. +Celia was not brilliant, but she was safe—he +knew her well enough to be sure of +that.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> + +<p>He seized a small brush and inked over +the flamboyant "Perros-Guirec," writing +over the black strip the word "Dieppe" +in the plainest of lettering. Then, finishing +what little packing there remained to be +done, he went out to consult a time-table +at a neighbouring café, where he wrote +and posted a note to his professor, and +another to the <i>massier</i> of his class. He +next hailed a cab at the rank, and the +concierge carried down his trunks. "<i>À la +gare St. Lazare!</i>"</p> + +<p>The <i>cocher</i> cracked his whip, and Paul, +lost in thought, was only vaguely conscious +of the streets and boulevards that had become +so dear to him.</p> + +<div class='center'> +THE END.<br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>RUDYARD KIPLING'S NEW BOOK.</h2> + + +<div class="cap"><i>THE SEVEN SEAS'</i> A new volume of poems by +<span class="smcap">Rudyard Kipling</span>, author of "Many Inventions," "Barrack-Room +Ballads," etc. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50; half calf, +$3.00; morocco, $5.00.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The spirit and method of Kipling's fresh and virile song have taken +the English reading world. . . . When we turn to the larger portion of +'The Seven Seas,' how imaginative it is, how impassioned, how superbly +rhythmic and sonorous! . . . The ring and diction of this verse add new +elements to our song. . . . The true laureate of Greater Britain."—<i>E. C. +Stedman, in the Book Buyer.</i></p> + +<p>"The most original poet who has appeared in his generation. . . . His +is the lustiest voice now lifted in the world, the clearest, the bravest, with +the fewest false notes in it. . . . I do not see why, in reading his book, +we should not put ourselves in the presence of a great poet again, and consent +to put off our mourning for the high ones lately dead."—<i>W. D. +Howells.</i></p> + +<p>"The new poems of Mr. Rudyard Kipling have all the spirit and +swing of their predecessors. Throughout they are instinct with the +qualities which are essentially his, and which have made, and seem likely +to keep, for him his position and wide popularity."—<i>London Times.</i></p> + +<p>"He has the very heart of movement, for the lack of which no metrical +science could atone. He goes far because he can."—<i>London Academy.</i></p> + +<p>"'The Seven Seas' is the most remarkable book of verse that Mr. +Kipling has given us. Here the human sympathy is broader and deeper, +the patriotism heartier and fuller, the intellectual and spiritual insight +keener, the command of the literary vehicle more complete and sure, than +in any previous verse-work by the author. The volume pulses with power—power +often rough and reckless in expression, but invariably conveying +the effect intended. There is scarcely a line which does not testify to the +strong individuality of the writer."—<i>London Globe.</i></p> + +<p>"If a man holding this volume in his hands, with all its extravagance +and its savage realism, is not aware that it is animated through and through +with indubitable genius—then he must be too much the slave of the conventional +and the ordinary to understand that Poetry metamorphoses herself +in many diverse forms, and that its one sovereign and indefeasible +justification is—truth."—<i>London Daily Telegraph.</i></p> + +<p>"'The Seven Seas' is packed with inspiration, with humor, with +pathos, and with the old unequaled insight into the mind of the rank and +file."—<i>London Daily Chronicle.</i></p> + +<p>"Mr. Kipling's 'The Seven Seas' is a distinct advance upon his +characteristic lines. The surpassing strength, the almost violent originality, +the glorious swish and swing of his lines—all are there in increased measure. . . . +The book is a marvel of originality and genius—a brand-new +landmark in the history of English letters."—<i>Chicago Tribune.</i></p> + +<p>"In 'The Seven Seas' are displayed all of Kipling's prodigious gifts. . . . +Whoever reads 'The Seven Seas' will be vexed by the desire to +read it again. The average charm of the gifts alone is irresistible."—<i>Boston +Journal.</i></p></div> + +<div class='center'> +New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue.<br /> +</div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class='cap'><i>MARCH HARES.</i> By <span class="smcap">Harold Frederic</span>, author of +"The Damnation of Theron Ware," "In the Valley," etc. +16mo. 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