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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Woman-Hater, by Charles Reade
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Woman-Hater
+
+Author: Charles Reade
+
+
+Release Date: January, 2003  [Etext #3669]
+The actual date this file first posted: July 11, 2001
+Last Updated: March 5, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOMAN-HATER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by James Rusk
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A WOMAN-HATER.
+
+By Charles Reade
+
+
+
+Italics are indicated by the
+underscore character. Accent marks are indicated by a single quote
+(') after the vowel for acute accents and before the vowel for grave
+accents. Other accent marks are ignored.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+“THE Golden Star,” Homburg, was a humble hotel, not used by gay gamblers,
+but by modest travelers.
+
+At two o'clock, one fine day in June, there were two strangers in the
+_salle a' manger,_ seated at small tables a long way apart, and wholly
+absorbed in their own business.
+
+One was a lady about twenty-four years old, who, in the present repose of
+her features, looked comely, sedate, and womanly, but not the remarkable
+person she really was. Her forehead high and white, but a little broader
+than sculptors affect; her long hair, coiled tight, in a great many
+smooth snakes, upon her snowy nape, was almost flaxen, yet her eyebrows
+and long lashes not pale but a reddish brown; her gray eyes large and
+profound; her mouth rather large, beautifully shaped, amiable, and
+expressive, but full of resolution; her chin a little broad; her neck and
+hands admirably white and polished. She was an Anglo-Dane--her father
+English.
+
+If you ask me what she was doing, why--hunting; and had been, for some
+days, in all the inns of Homburg. She had the visitors' book, and was
+going through the names of the whole year, and studying each to see
+whether it looked real or assumed. Interspersed were flippant comments,
+and verses adapted to draw a smile of amusement or contempt; but this
+hunter passed them all over as nullities: the steady pose of her head,
+the glint of her deep eye, and the set of her fine lips showed a soul not
+to be diverted from its object.
+
+The traveler at her back had a map of the district and blank telegrams,
+one of which he filled in every now and then, and scribbled a hasty
+letter to the same address. He was a sharp-faced middle-aged man of
+business; Joseph Ashmead, operatic and theatrical agent--at his wits'
+end; a female singer at the Homburg Opera had fallen really ill; he was
+commissioned to replace her, and had only thirty hours to do it in. So he
+was hunting a singer. What the lady was hunting can never be known,
+unless she should choose to reveal it.
+
+Karl, the waiter, felt bound to rouse these abstracted guests, and
+stimulate their appetites. He affected, therefore, to look on them as
+people who had not yet breakfasted, and tripped up to Mr. Ashmead with a
+bill of fare, rather scanty.
+
+The busiest Englishman can eat, and Ashmead had no objection to snatch a
+mouthful; he gave his order in German with an English accent. But the
+lady, when appealed to, said softly, in pure German, “I will wait for the
+_table-d'hote.”_
+
+“The _table-d'hote!_ It wants four hours to that.”
+
+The lady looked Karl full in the face, and said, slowly, and very
+distinctly, “Then, I--will--wait--four--hours.”
+
+These simple words, articulated firmly, and in a contralto voice of
+singular volume and sweetness, sent Karl skipping; but their effect on
+Mr. Ashmead was more remarkable. He started up from his chair with an
+exclamation, and bent his eyes eagerly on the melodious speaker. He could
+only see her back hair and her figure; but, apparently, this quick-eared
+gentleman had also quick eyes, for he said aloud, in English, “Her hair,
+too--it must be;” and he came hurriedly toward her. She caught a word or
+two, and turned and saw him. “Ah!” said she, and rose; but the points of
+her fingers still rested on the book.
+
+“It is!” cried Ashmead. “It is!”
+
+“Yes, Mr. Ashmead,” said the lady, coloring a little, but in pure
+English, and with a composure not easily disturbed; “it is Ina Klosking.”
+
+“What a pleasure,” cried Ashmead; and what a surprise! Ah, madam, I never
+hoped to see you again. When I heard you had left the Munich Opera so
+sudden, I said, 'There goes one more bright star quenched forever.' And
+you to desert us--you, the risingest singer in Germany!”
+
+“Mr. Ashmead!”
+
+“You can't deny it. You know you were.”
+
+The lady, thus made her own judge, seemed to reflect a moment, and said,
+“I was a well-grounded musician, thanks to my parents; I was a very
+hard-working singer; and I had the advantage of being supported, in my
+early career, by a gentleman of judgment and spirit, who was a manager at
+first, and brought me forward, afterward a popular agent, and talked
+managers into a good opinion of me.”
+
+“Ah, madam,” said Ashmead, tenderly, “it is a great pleasure to hear this
+from you, and spoken with that mellow voice which would charm a
+rattlesnake; but what would my zeal and devotion have availed if you had
+not been a born singer?”
+
+“Why--yes,” said Ina, thoughtfully; “I was a singer.” But she seemed to
+say this not as a thing to be proud of, but only because it happened to
+be true; and, indeed, it was a peculiarity of this woman that she
+appeared nearly always to think--if but for half a moment--before she
+spoke, and to say things, whether about herself or others, only because
+they were the truth. The reader who shall condescend to bear this in mind
+will possess some little clew to the color and effect of her words as
+spoken. Often, where they seem simple and commonplace--on paper, they
+were weighty by their extraordinary air of truthfulness as well as by the
+deep music of her mellow, bell-like voice.
+
+“Oh, you do admit that,” said Mr. Ashmead, with a chuckle; “then why jump
+off the ladder so near the top? Oh, of course I know--the old story--but
+you might give twenty-two hours to love, and still spare a couple to
+music.”
+
+“That seems a reasonable division,” said Ina, naively. “But”
+ (apologetically) “he was jealous.”
+
+“Jealous!--more shame for him. I'm sure no lady in public life was ever
+more discreet.”
+
+“No, no; he was only jealous of the public.”
+
+“And what had the poor public done?”
+
+“Absorbed me, he said.”
+
+“Why, he could take you to the opera, and take you home from the opera,
+and, during the opera, he could make one of the public, and applaud you
+as loud as the best.”
+
+“Yes, but rehearsals!--and--embracing the tenor.”
+
+“Well, but only on the stage?”
+
+“Oh, Mr. Ashmead, where else does one embrace the tenor?”
+
+“And was that a grievance? Why, I'd embrace fifty tenors--if I was paid
+proportionable.”
+
+“Yes; but he said I embraced one poor stick, with a fervor--an
+_abandon_--Well, I dare say I did; for, if they had put a gate-post in
+the middle of the stage, and it was in my part to embrace the thing, I
+should have done it honestly, for love of my art, and not of a post. The
+next time I had to embrace the poor stick it was all I could do not to
+pinch him savagely.”
+
+“And turn him to a counter-tenor--make him squeak.”
+
+Ina Klosking smiled for the first time. Ashmead, too, chuckled at his own
+wit, but turned suddenly grave the next moment, and moralized. He
+pronounced it desirable, for the interests of mankind, that a great and
+rising singer should not love out of the business; outsiders were
+wrong-headed and absurd, and did not understand the true artist. However,
+having discoursed for some time in this strain, he began to fear it might
+be unpalatable to her; so he stopped abruptly, and said, “But there--what
+is done is done. We must make the best of it; and you mustn't think I
+meant to run _him_ down. He loves you, in his way. He must be a noble
+fellow, or he never could have won such a heart as yours. He won't be
+jealous of an old fellow like me, though I love you, too, in my humdrum
+way, and always did. You must do me the honor to present me to him at
+once.”
+
+Ina stared at him, but said nothing.
+
+“Oh,” continued Ashmead, “I shall be busy till evening; but I will ask
+him and you to dine with me at the Kursaal, and then adjourn to the Royal
+Box. You are a queen of song, and that is where you and he shall sit, and
+nowhere else.”
+
+Ina Klosking was changing color all this time, and cast a grateful but
+troubled look on him. “My kind, old faithful friend!” said she, then
+shook her head. “No, we are not to dine with you; nor sit together at the
+opera, in Homburg.”
+
+Ashmead looked a little chagrined. “So be it,” he said dryly. “But at
+least introduce me to him. I'll try and overcome his prejudices.”
+
+“It is not even in my power to do that.”
+
+“Oh, I see. I'm not good enough for him,” said Ashmead, bitterly.
+
+“You do yourself injustice, and him too,” said Ina, courteously.
+
+“Well, then?”
+
+“My friend,” said she, deprecatingly, “he is not here.”
+
+“Not here? That is odd. Well, then, you will be dull till he comes back.
+Come without him; at all events, to the opera.”
+
+She turned her tortured eyes away. “I have not the heart.”
+
+This made Ashmead look at her more attentively. “Why, what is the
+matter?” said he. “You are in trouble. I declare you are trembling, and
+your eyes are filling. My poor lady--in Heaven's name, what is the
+matter?”
+
+“Hush!” said Ina; “not so loud.” Then she looked him in the face a little
+while, blushed, hesitated, faltered, and at last laid one white hand upon
+her bosom, that was beginning to heave, and said, with patient dignity,
+“My old friend--I--am--deserted.”
+
+
+Ashmead looked at her with amazement and incredulity. “Deserted!” said
+he, faintly. “You--deserted!!!”
+
+“Yes,” said she, “deserted; but perhaps not forever.” Her noble eyes
+filled to the brim, and two tears stood ready to run over.
+
+“Why, the man must be an idiot!” shouted Ashmead.
+
+“Hush! not so loud. That waiter is listening: let me come to your table.”
+
+She came and sat down at his table, and he sat opposite her. They looked
+at each other. He waited for her to speak. With all her fortitude, her
+voice faltered, under the eye of sympathy. “You are my old friend,” she
+said. “I'll try and tell you all.” But she could not all in a moment, and
+the two tears trickled over and ran down her cheeks; Ashmead saw them,
+and burst out, “The villain!--the villain!”
+
+“No, no,” said she, “do not call him that. I could not bear it. Believe
+me, he is no villain.” Then she dried her eyes, and said, resolutely, “If
+I am to tell you, you must not apply harsh words to him. They would close
+my mouth at once, and close my heart.”
+
+“I won't say a word,” said Ashmead, submissively; “so tell me all.”
+
+Ina reflected a moment, and then told her tale. Dealing now with longer
+sentences, she betrayed her foreign half.
+
+“Being alone so long,” said she, “has made me reflect more than in all my
+life before, and I now understand many things that, at the time, I could
+not. He to whom I have given my love, and resigned the art in which I was
+advancing--with your assistance--is, by nature, impetuous and inconstant.
+He was born so, and I the opposite. His love for me was too violent to
+last forever in any man, and it soon cooled in him, because he is
+inconstant by nature. He was jealous of the public: he must have all my
+heart, and all my time, and so he wore his own passion out. Then his
+great restlessness, having now no chain, became too strong for our
+happiness. He pined for change, as some wanderers pine for a fixed home.
+Is it not strange? I, a child of the theater, am at heart domestic. He, a
+gentleman and a scholar, born, bred, and fitted to adorn the best
+society, is by nature a Bohemian.
+
+“One word: is there another woman?”
+
+“No, not that I know of; Heaven forbid!” said Ina. “But there is
+something very dreadful: there is gambling. He has a passion for it, and
+I fear I wearied him by my remonstrances. He dragged me about from one
+gambling-place to another, and I saw that if I resisted he would go
+without me. He lost a fortune while we were together, and I do really
+believe he is ruined, poor dear.”
+
+Ashmead suppressed all signs of ill-temper, and asked, grimly, “Did he
+quarrel with you, then?”
+
+“Oh, no; he never said an unkind word to me; and I was not always so
+forbearing, for I passed months of torment. I saw that affection, which
+was my all, gliding gradually away from me; and the tortured will cry
+out. I am not an ungoverned woman, but sometimes the agony was
+intolerable, and I complained. Well, that agony, I long for it back; for
+now I am desolate.”
+
+“Poor soul! How could a man have the heart to leave you? how could he
+have the face?”
+
+“Oh, he did not do it shamelessly. He left me for a week, to visit
+friends in England. But he wrote to me from London. He had left me at
+Berlin. He said that he did not like to tell me before parting, but I
+must not expect to see him for six weeks; and he desired me to go to my
+mother in Denmark. He would send his next letter to me there. Ah! he knew
+I should need my mother when his second letter came. He had planned it
+all, that the blow might not kill me. He wrote to tell me he was a ruined
+man, and he was too proud to let me support him: he begged my pardon for
+his love, for his desertion, for ever having crossed my brilliant path
+like a dark cloud. He praised me, he thanked me, he blessed me; but he
+left me. It was a beautiful letter, but it was the death-warrant of my
+heart. I was abandoned.”
+
+Ashmead started up and walked very briskly, with a great appearance of
+business requiring vast dispatch, to the other end of the _salle;_ and
+there, being out of Ina's hearing, he spoke his mind to a candlestick
+with three branches. “D--n him! Heartless, sentimental scoundrel! D--n
+him! D--n him!”
+
+Having relieved his mind with this pious ejaculation, he returned to Ina
+at a reasonable pace and much relieved, and was now enabled to say,
+cheerfully, “Let us take a business view of it. He is gone--gone of his
+own accord. Give him your blessing--I have given him mine--and forget
+him.”
+
+“Forget him! Never while I live. Is that your advice? Oh, Mr. Ashmead!
+And the moment I saw your friendly face, I said to myself, 'I am no
+longer alone: here is one that will help me.'”
+
+“And so I will, you may be sure of that,” said Ashmead, eagerly. “What is
+the business?”
+
+“The business is to find him. That is the first thing.”
+
+“But he is in England.”
+
+“Oh, no; that was eight months ago. He could not stay eight months in any
+country; besides, there are no gambling-houses there.”
+
+“And have you been eight months searching Europe for this madman?”
+
+“No. At first pride and anger were strong, and I said, 'Here I stay till
+he comes back to me and to his senses.'”
+
+“Brava!”
+
+“Yes; but month after month went by, carrying away my pride and my anger,
+and leaving my affection undiminished. At last I could bear it no longer;
+so, as he would not come to his senses--”
+
+“You took leave of yours, and came out on a wild-goose chase,” said
+Ashmead, but too regretfully to affront her.
+
+“It _was,”_ said Ina; “I feel it. But it is not one _now,_ because I have
+_you_ to assist me with your experience and ability. You will find him
+for me, somehow or other. I know you will.”
+
+Let a woman have ever so little guile, she must have tact, if she is a
+true woman. Now, tact, if its etymology is to be trusted, implies a fine
+sense and power of touch; so, in virtue of her sex, she pats a horse
+before she rides him, and a man before she drives him. There, ladies,
+there is an indictment in two counts; traverse either of them if you can.
+
+Joseph Ashmead, thus delicately but effectually manipulated, swelled with
+gratified vanity and said, “You are quite right; you can't do this sort
+of thing yourself; you want an agent.”
+
+“Of course I do.”
+
+“Well, you have got one. Now let me see--fifty to one he is not at
+Homburg at all. If he is, he most likely stays at Frankfort. He is a
+swell, is he not?”
+
+“Swell!” said the Anglo-Dane, puzzled. “Not that I am aware of.” She was
+strictly on her guard against vituperation of her beloved scamp.
+
+“Pooh, pooh!” said Ashmead; “of course he is, and not the sort to lodge
+in Homburg.”
+
+“Then behold my incompetence!” said Ina.
+
+“But _the_ place to look for him is the gambling-saloon. Been there?”
+
+“Oh, no.”
+
+“Then you must.”
+
+“What! Me! Alone?”
+
+“No; with your agent.”
+
+“Oh, my friend; I said you would find him.”
+
+“What a woman! She will have it he is in Homburg. And suppose we do find
+him, and you should not be welcome?”
+
+“I shall not be unwelcome. _I shall be a change.”_
+
+“Shall I tell you how to draw him to Homburg, wherever he is?” said
+Ashmead, very demurely.
+
+“Yes, tell me that.”
+
+“And do _me_ a good turn into the bargain.”
+
+“Is it possible? Can I be so fortunate?”
+
+“Yes; and _as you say,_ it _is_ a slice of luck to be able to kill two
+birds with one stone. Why, consider--the way to recover a man is not to
+run after him, but to make him run to you. It is like catching moths; you
+don't run out into the garden after them; you light the candle and open
+the window, and _they_ do the rest--as he will.”
+
+“Yes, yes; but what am I to do for _you?”_ asked Ina, getting a little
+uneasy and suspicious.
+
+“What! didn't I tell you?” said Ashmead, with cool effrontery. “Why, only
+to sing for me in this little opera, that is all.” And he put his hands
+in his pockets, and awaited thunder-claps.
+
+“Oh, that is all, is it?” said Ina, panting a little, and turning two
+great, reproachful eyes on him.
+
+“That is all,” said he, stoutly. “Why, what attracted him at first?
+Wasn't it your singing, the admiration of the public, the bouquets and
+bravas? What caught the moth once will catch it again 'moping' won't. And
+surely you will not refuse to draw him, merely because you can pull me
+out of a fix into the bargain. Look here, I have undertaken to find a
+singer by to-morrow night; and what chance is there of my getting even a
+third-rate one? Why, the very hour I have spent so agreeably, talking to
+you, has diminished my chance.”
+
+“Oh!” said Ina, “this is _driving_ me into your net.”
+
+“I own it,” said Joseph, cheerfully; “I'm quite unscrupulous, because I
+know you will thank me afterward.”
+
+“The very idea of going back to the stage makes me tremble,” said Ina.
+
+“Of course it does; and those who tremble succeed. In a long experience I
+never knew an instance to the contrary. It is the conceited fools, who
+feel safe, that are in danger.”
+
+“What is the part?”
+
+“One you know--Siebel in 'Faust,' with two new songs.”
+
+“Excuse me, I do not know it.”
+
+“Why, everybody knows it.”
+
+“You mean everybody has heard it sung. I know neither the music nor the
+words, and I cannot sing incorrectly even for you.”
+
+“Oh, you can master the airs in a day, and the cackle in half an hour.”
+
+“I am not so expeditious. If you are serious, get me the book--oh! he
+calls the poet's words the cackle--and the music of the part directly,
+and borrow me the score.”
+
+“Borrow you the score! Ah! that shows the school you were bred in. I gaze
+at you with admiration.”
+
+“Then please don't, for we have not a moment to waste. You have terrified
+me out of my senses. Fly!”
+
+“Yes; but before I fly, there is something to be settled--salary!”
+
+“As much as they will give.”
+
+“Of course; but give me a hint.”
+
+“No, no; you will get me some money, for I am poor. I gave all my savings
+to my dear mother, and settled her on a farm in dear old Denmark. But I
+really sing for _you_ more than for Homburg, so make no difficulties.
+Above all, do not discuss salary with me. Settle it and draw it for me,
+and let me hear no more about that. I am on thorns.”
+
+
+
+He soon found the director, and told him, excitedly, there was a way out
+of his present difficulty. Ina Klosking was in the town. He had implored
+her to return to the opera. She had refused at first; but he had used all
+his influence with her, and at last had obtained a half promise on
+conditions--a two months' engagement; certain parts, which he specified
+out of his own head; salary, a hundred thalers per night, and a half
+clear benefit on her last appearance.
+
+The director demurred to the salary.
+
+Ashmead said he was mad: she was the German Alboni; her low notes like a
+trumpet, and the compass of a mezzo-soprano besides.
+
+The director yielded, and drew up the engagement in duplicate. Ashmead
+then borrowed the music and came back to the inn triumphant. He waved the
+agreement over his head, then submitted it to her. She glanced at it,
+made a wry face, and said, “Two months! I never dreamed of such a thing.”
+
+“Not worth your while to do it for less,” said Ashmead. “Come,” said he,
+authoritatively, “you have got a good bargain every way; so sign.”
+
+She lifted her head high, and looked at him like a lioness, at being
+ordered.
+
+Ashmead replied by putting the paper before her and giving her the pen.
+
+She cast one more reproachful glance, then signed like a lamb.
+
+“Now,” said she, turning fretful, “I want a piano.”
+
+“You shall have one,” said he coaxingly. He went to the landlord and
+inquired if there was a piano in the house.
+
+“Yes, there is one,” said he.
+
+“And it is mine,” said a sharp female voice.
+
+“May I beg the use of it?”
+
+“No,” said the lady, a tall, bony spinster. “I cannot have it strummed on
+and put out of tune by everybody.”
+
+“But this is not everybody. The lady I want it for is a professional
+musician. Top of the tree.”
+
+“The hardest strummers going.”
+
+“But, mademoiselle, this lady is going to sing at the opera. She _must_
+study. She _must_ have a piano.
+
+“But [grimly] she need not have mine.
+
+“Then she must leave the hotel.”
+
+“Oh [haughtily], _that_ is as she pleases.”
+
+Ashmead went to Ina Klosking in a rage and told her all this, and said he
+would take her to another hotel kept by a Frenchman: these Germans were
+bears. But Ina Klosking just shrugged her shoulders, and said, “Take me
+to her.”
+
+He did so; and she said, in German, “Madam, I can quite understand your
+reluctance to have your piano strummed. But as your hotel is quiet and
+respectable, and I am unwilling to leave it, will you permit me to play
+to you? and then you shall decide whether I am worthy to stay or not.”
+
+The spinster drank those mellow accents, colored a little, looked keenly
+at the speaker, and, after a moment's reflection, said, half sullenly,
+“No, madam, you are polite. I must risk my poor piano. Be pleased to come
+with me.”
+
+She then conducted them to a large, unoccupied room on the first-floor,
+and unlocked the piano, a very fine one, and in perfect tune.
+
+Ina sat down, and performed a composition then in vogue.
+
+“You play correctly, madam,” said the spinster; “but your music--what
+stuff! Such things are null. They vex the ear a little, but they never
+reach the mind.”
+
+Ashmead was wroth, and could hardly contain himself; but the Klosking was
+amused, and rather pleased. “Mademoiselle has positive tastes in music,”
+ said she; “all the better.”
+
+“Yes,” said the spinster, “most music is mere noise. I hate and despise
+forty-nine compositions out of fifty; but the fiftieth I adore. Give me
+something simple, with a little soul in it--if you can.”
+
+Ina Klosking looked at her, and observed her age and her dress, the
+latter old-fashioned. She said, quietly, “Will mademoiselle do me the
+honor to stand before me? I will sing her a trifle my mother taught me.”
+
+The spinster complied, and stood erect and stiff, with her arms folded.
+Ina fixed her deep eyes on her, playing a liquid prelude all the time,
+then swelled her chest and sung the old Venetian cauzonet, “Il pescatore
+de'll' onda.” It is a small thing, but there is no limit to the genius of
+song. The Klosking sung this trifle with a voice so grand, sonorous, and
+sweet, and, above all, with such feeling, taste, and purity, that somehow
+she transported her hearers to Venetian waters, moonlit, and thrilled
+them to the heart, while the great glass chandelier kept ringing very
+audibly, so true, massive, and vibrating were her tones in that large,
+empty room.
+
+At the first verse that cross-grained spinster, with real likes and
+dislikes, put a bony hand quietly before her eyes. At the last, she made
+three strides, as a soldier marches, and fell all of a piece, like a
+wooden _mannequin,_ on the singer's neck. “Take my piano,” she sobbed,
+“for you have taken the heart out of my body.”
+
+Ina returned her embrace, and did not conceal her pleasure. “I am very
+proud of such a conquest,” said she.
+
+From that hour Ina was the landlady's pet. The room and piano were made
+over to her, and, being in a great fright at what she had undertaken, she
+studied and practiced her part night and day. She made Ashmead call a
+rehearsal next day, and she came home from it wretched and almost
+hysterical.
+
+She summoned her slave Ashmead; he stood before her with an air of
+hypocritical submission.
+
+“The Flute was not at rehearsal, sir,” said she, severely, “nor the Oboe,
+nor the Violoncello.”
+
+“Just like 'em,” said Ashmead, tranquilly.
+
+“The tenor is a quavering stick. He is one of those who think that an
+unmanly trembling of the voice represents every manly passion.”
+
+“Their name is legion.”
+
+“The soprano is insipid. And they are all imperfect--contentedly
+imperfect, How can people sing incorrectly? It is like lying.”
+
+“That is what makes it so common--he! he!”
+
+“I do not desire wit, but consolation. I believe you are Mephistopheles
+himself in disguise; for ever since I signed that diabolical compact you
+made me, I have been in a state of terror, agitation, misgiving, and
+misery--and I thank and bless you for it; for these thorns and nettles
+they lacerate me, and make me live. They break the dull, lethargic agony
+of utter desolation.”
+
+Then, as her nerves were female nerves, and her fortitude female
+fortitude, she gave way, for once, and began to cry patiently.
+
+Ashmead the practical went softly away and left her, as we must leave her
+for a time, to battle her business with one hand and her sorrow with the
+other.
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+IN the Hotel Russie, at Frankfort, there was a grand apartment, lofty,
+spacious, and richly furnished, with a broad balcony overlooking the
+Platz, and roofed, so to speak, with colored sun-blinds, which softened
+the glare of the Rhineland sun to a rosy and mellow light.
+
+In the veranda, a tall English gentleman was leaning over the balcony,
+smoking a cigar, and being courted by a fair young lady. Her light-gray
+eyes dwelt on him in a way to magnetize a man, and she purred pretty
+nothings at his ear, in a soft tone she reserved for males. Her voice was
+clear, loud, and rather high-pitched whenever she spoke to a person of
+her own sex; a comely English blonde, with pale eyelashes; a keen,
+sensible girl, and not a downright wicked one; only born artful. This was
+Fanny Dover; and the tall gentleman--whose relation she was, and whose
+wife she resolved to be in one year, three years, or ten, according to
+his power of resistance--was Harrington Vizard, a Barfordshire squire,
+with twelve thousand acres and a library.
+
+As for Fanny, she had only two thousand pounds in all the world; so
+compensating Nature endowed her with a fair complexion, gray, mesmeric
+eyes, art, and resolution--qualities that often enable a poor girl to
+conquer landed estates, with their male incumbrances.
+
+Beautiful and delicate--on the surface--as was Miss Dover's courtship of
+her first cousin once removed, it did not strike fire; it neither pleased
+nor annoyed him; it fell as dead as a lantern firing on an iceberg. Not
+that he disliked her by any means. But he was thirty-two, had seen the
+world, and had been unlucky with women. So he was now a _divorce',_ and a
+declared woman-hater; railed on them, and kept them at arm's-length,
+Fanny Dover included. It was really comical to see with what perfect
+coolness and cynical apathy he parried the stealthy advances of this
+cat-like girl, a mistress in the art of pleasing--when she chose.
+
+Inside the room, on a couch of crimson velvet, sat a young lady of rare
+and dazzling beauty. Her face was a long but perfect oval, pure forehead,
+straight nose, with exquisite nostrils; coral lips, and ivory teeth. But
+what first struck the beholder were her glorious dark eyes, and
+magnificent eyebrows as black as jet. Her hair was really like a raven's
+dark-purple wing.
+
+These beauties, in a stern character, might have inspired awe; the more
+so as her form and limbs were grand and statuesque for her age; but all
+was softened down to sweet womanhood by long, silken lashes, often
+lowered, and a gracious face that blushed at a word, blushed little,
+blushed much, blushed pinky, blushed pink, blushed roseate, blushed rosy;
+and, I am sorry to say, blushed crimson, and even scarlet, in the course
+of those events I am about to record, as unblushing as turnip, and cool
+as cucumber. This scale of blushes arose not out of modesty alone, but
+out of the wide range of her sensibility. On hearing of a noble deed, she
+blushed warm approbation; at a worthy sentiment, she blushed heart-felt
+sympathy. If you said a thing at the fire that might hurt some person at
+the furthest window, she would blush for fear it should be overheard, and
+cause pain.
+
+In short, it was her peculiarity to blush readily for matters quite
+outside herself, and to show the male observer (if any) the amazing
+sensibility, apart from egotism, that sometimes adorns a young,
+high-minded woman, not yet hardened by the world.
+
+This young lady was Zoe Vizard, daughter of Harrington's father by a
+Greek mother, who died when she was twelve years of age. Her mixed origin
+showed itself curiously. In her figure and face she was all Greek, even
+to her hand, which was molded divinely, but as long and large as befitted
+her long, grand, antique arm; but her mind was Northern--not a grain of
+Greek subtlety in it. Indeed, she would have made a poor hand at dark
+deceit, with a transparent face and eloquent blood, that kept coursing
+from her heart to her cheeks and back again, and painting her thoughts
+upon her countenance.
+
+Having installed herself, with feminine instinct, in a crimson couch that
+framed her to perfection, Zoe Vizard was at work embroidering. She had
+some flowers, and their leaves, lying near her on a little table, and,
+with colored silks, chenille, etc., she imitated each flower and its leaf
+very adroitly without a pattern. This was clever, and, indeed, rather a
+rare talent; but she lowered her head over this work with a demure,
+beaming complacency embroidery alone never yet excited without external
+assistance. Accordingly, on a large stool, or little ottoman, at her
+feet, but at a respectful distance, sat a young man, almost her match in
+beauty, though in quite another style. In height about five feet ten,
+broad-shouldered, clean-built, a model of strength, agility, and grace.
+His face fair, fresh, and healthy-looking; his large eyes hazel; the
+crisp curling hair on his shapely head a wonderful brown in the mass, but
+with one thin streak of gold above the forehead, and all the loose hairs
+glittering golden. A short clipped mustache saved him from looking too
+feminine, yet did not hide his expressive mouth. He had white hands, as
+soft and supple as a woman's, a mellow voice, and a winning tongue. This
+dangerous young gentleman was gazing softly on Zoe Vizard and purring in
+her ear; and she was conscious of his gaze without looking at him, and
+was sipping the honey, and showed it, by seeming more absorbed in her
+work than girls ever really are.
+
+Matters, however, had not gone openly very far. She was still on her
+defense: so, after imbibing his flatteries demurely a long time, she
+discovered, all in one moment, that they were objectionable. “Dear me,
+Mr. Severne,” said she, “you do nothing but pay compliments.”
+
+“How can I help it, sitting here?” inquired he.
+
+“There--there,” said she: then, quietly, “Does it never occur to you that
+only foolish people are pleased with flatteries?”
+
+“I have heard that; but I don't believe it. I know it makes me awfully
+happy whenever you say a kind word of me.”
+
+“That is far from proving your wisdom,” said Zoe; “and, instead of
+dwelling on my perfections, which do not exist, I wish you would _tell_
+me things.”
+
+“What things?”
+
+“How can I tell till I hear them? Well, then, things about yourself.”
+
+“That is a poor subject.”
+
+“Let me be the judge.”
+
+“Oh, there are lots of fellows who are always talking about themselves:
+let me be an exception.”
+
+This answer puzzled Zoe, and she was silent, and put on a cold look. She
+was not accustomed to be refused anything reasonable.
+
+Severne examined her closely, and saw he was expected to obey her. He
+then resolved to prepare, in a day or two, an autobiography full of
+details that should satisfy Zoe's curiosity, and win her admiration and
+her love. But he could not do it all in a moment, because his memory of
+his real life obstructed his fancy. Meantime he operated a diversion. He
+said, “Set a poor fellow an example. Tell me something about
+_yourself--_since I have the bad taste, and the presumption, to be
+interested in you, and can't help it. Did you spring from the foam of the
+Archipelago? or are you descended from Bacchus and Ariadne?”
+
+“If you want sensible answers, ask sensible questions,” said Zoe, trying
+to frown him down with her black brows; but her sweet cheek would tint
+itself, and her sweet mouth smile and expose much intercoral ivory.
+
+“Well, then,” said he, “I will ask you a prosaic question, and I only
+hope you won't think it impertinent. How--ever--did such a strangely
+assorted party as yours come to travel together? And if Vizard has turned
+woman-hater, as he pretends, how comes he to be at the head of a female
+party who are not _all_ of them--” he hesitated.
+
+“Go on, Mr. Severne; not all of them what?” said Zoe, prepared to stand
+up for her sex.
+
+“Not perfect?”
+
+“That is a very cautious statement, and--there--you are as slippery as an
+eel; there is no getting hold of you. Well, never mind, I will set you an
+example of communicativeness, and reveal this mystery hidden as yet from
+mankind.”
+
+“Speak, dread queen; thy servant heareth.”
+
+“Ha! ha! ha! Mr. Severne, you amuse _me.”_
+
+“You only interest _me,”_ was the soft reply.
+
+Zoe blushed pink, but turned it off. “Then why do you not attend to my
+interesting narrative, instead of--Well, then, it began with my asking
+the dear fellow to take me a tour, especially to Rome.”
+
+“You wanted to see the statues of your ancestors, and shame them.”
+
+“Much obliged; I was not quite such a goose. I wanted to see the Tiber,
+and the Colosseum, and Trajan's Pillar, and the Tarpeian Rock, and the
+one everlasting city that binds ancient and modern history together.”
+
+She flashed her great eyes on him, and he was dumb. She had risen above
+the region of his ideas. Having silenced her commentator, she returned to
+her story, “Well, dear Harrington said 'yes' directly. So then I told
+Fanny, and she said, 'Oh, do take me with you?' Now, of course I was only
+too glad to have Fanny; she is my relation, and my friend.”
+
+“Happy girl!”
+
+“Be quiet, please. So I asked Harrington to let me have Fanny with us,
+and you should have seen his face. What, he travel with a couple of us!
+He--I don't see why I should tell you what the monster said.”
+
+“Oh, yes, please do.”
+
+“You won't go telling anybody else, then?”
+
+“Not a living soul, upon my honor.”
+
+“Well, then,” he said--she began to blush like a rose--“that he looked on
+me as a mere female in embryo; I had not yet developed the vices of my
+sex. But Fanny Dover was a ripe flirt, and she would set me flirting, and
+how could he manage the pair? In short, sir, he refused to take us, and
+gave his reasons, such as they were, poor dear! Then I had to tell Fanny.
+Then she began to cry, and told me to go without her. But I would not do
+that, when I had once asked her. Then she clung round my neck, and kissed
+me, and begged me to be cross and sullen, and tire out dear Harrington.”
+
+“That is like her.”
+
+“How do you know?” said Zoe sharply.
+
+“Oh, I have studied her character.”
+
+“When, pray?” said Zoe, ironically, yet blushing a little, because her
+secret meaning was, “You are always at my apron strings, and have no time
+to fathom Fanny.”
+
+“When I have nothing better to do--when you are out of the room.”
+
+ “Well, I shall be out of the room very soon, if you say another word.”
+
+“And serve me right, too. I am a fool to talk when you allow me to
+listen.”
+
+“He is incorrigible!” said Zoe, pathetically. “Well, then, I refused to
+pout at Harrington. It is not as if he had no reason to distrust women,
+poor dear darling. I invited Fanny to stay a month with us; and, when
+once she was in the house, she soon got over me, and persuaded me to play
+sad, and showed me how to do it. So we wore long faces, and sweet
+resignation, and were never cross, but kept turning tearful eyes upon our
+victim.”
+
+“Ha! ha! How absurd of Vizard to tell you that two women would be too
+much for one man.”
+
+“No, it was the truth; and girls are artful creatures, especially when
+they put their heads together. But hear the end of all our cunning. One
+day, after dinner, Harrington asked us to sit opposite him; so we did,
+and felt guilty. He surveyed us in silence a little while, and then he
+said, 'My young friends, you have played your little game pretty well,
+especially you, Zoe, that are a novice in the fine arts compared with
+Miss Dover.' Histrionic talent ought to be rewarded; he would relent, and
+take us abroad, on one condition: there must be a chaperone. 'All the
+better,' said we hypocrites, eagerly; 'and who?'”
+
+“'Oh, a person equal to the occasion--an old maid as bitter against men
+as ever grapes were sour. She would follow us upstairs, downstairs, and
+into my lady's chamber. She would have an eye at the key-hole by day, and
+an ear by night, when we went up to bed and talked over the events of our
+frivolous day.' In short, he enumerated our duenna's perfections till our
+blood ran cold; and it was ever so long before he would tell us who it
+was--Aunt Maitland. We screamed with surprise. They are like cat and
+dog, and never agree, except to differ. We sought an explanation of this
+strange choice. He obliged us. It was not for his gratification he took
+the old cat; it was for us. She would relieve him of a vast
+responsibility. The vices of her character would prove too strong for the
+little faults of ours, which were only volatility, frivolity,
+flirtation--I will _not_ tell you what he said.”
+
+“I seem to hear Harrington talking,” said Severne. “What on earth makes
+him so hard upon women? Would you mind telling me that?”
+
+“Never ask me that question again,” said Zoe, with sudden gravity.
+
+“Well, I won't; I'll get it out of him.”
+
+“If you say a word to him about it, I shall be shocked and offended.”
+
+She was pale and red by turns; but Severne bowed his head with a
+respectful submission that disarmed her directly. She turned her head
+away, and Severne, watching her, saw her eyes fill.
+
+“How is it,” said she thoughtfully, and looking away from him, “that men
+leave out their sisters when they sum up womankind? Are not we women too?
+My poor brother quite forgets he has one woman who will never, never
+desert nor deceive him; dear, darling fellow!” and with these three last
+words she rose and kissed the tips of her fingers, and waved the kiss to
+Vizard with that free magnitude of gesture which belonged to antiquity:
+it struck the Anglo-Saxon flirt at her feet with amazement. Not having
+good enough under his skin to sympathize with that pious impulse, he
+first stagnated a little while; and then, not to be silent altogether,
+made his little, stale, commonplace comment on what she had told him.
+“Why, it is like a novel.”
+
+“A very unromantic one,” replied Zoe.
+
+“I don't know that. I have read very interesting novels with fewer new
+characters than this: there's a dark beauty, and a fair, and a duenna
+with an eagle eye and an aquiline nose.”
+
+“Hush!” said Zoe: “that is her room;” and pointed to a chamber door that
+opened into the apartment.
+
+Oh, marvelous female instinct! The duenna in charge was at that moment
+behind that very door, and her eye and her ear at the key-hole, turn
+about.
+
+Severne continued his remarks, but in a lower voice.
+
+“Then there's a woman-hater and a man-hater: good for dialogue.”
+
+Now this banter did not please Zoe; so she fixed her eyes upon Severne,
+and said, “You forget the principal figure--a mysterious young gentleman
+who looks nineteen, and is twenty-nine, and was lost sight of in England
+nine years ago. He has been traveling ever since, and where-ever he went
+he flirted; we gather so much from his accomplishment in the art; fluent,
+not to say voluble at times, but no egotist, for he never tells you
+anything about himself, nor even about his family, still less about the
+numerous _affaires de coeur_ in which he has been engaged. Perhaps he is
+reserving it all for the third volume.”
+
+The attack was strong and sudden, but it failed. Severne, within the
+limits of his experience, was a consummate artist, and this situation was
+not new to him. He cast one gently reproachful glance on her, then
+lowered his eyes to the carpet, and kept them there. “Do you think,” said
+he, in a low, dejected voice, “it can be any pleasure to a man to relate
+the follies of an idle, aimless life? and to you, who have given me
+higher aspirations, and made me awfully sorry, I cannot live my whole
+life over again. I can't bear to think of the years I have wasted,” said
+he; “and how can I talk to you, whom I reverence, of the past follies I
+despise? No, pray don't ask me to risk your esteem. It is so dear to me.”
+
+Then this artist put in practice a little maneuver he had learned of
+compressing his muscles and forcing a little unwilling water into his
+eyes. So, at the end of his pretty little speech, he raised two gentle,
+imploring eyes, with half a tear in each of them. To be sure, Nature
+assisted his art for once; he did bitterly regret, but out of pure
+egotism, the years he had wasted, and wished with all his heart he had
+never known any woman but Zoe Vizard.
+
+The combination of art and sincerity was too much for the guileless and
+inexperienced Zoe. She was grieved at the pain she had given, and rose to
+retire, for she felt they were both on dangerous ground; but, as she
+turned away, she made a little, deprecating gesture, and said, softly,
+“Forgive me.”
+
+That soft tone gave Severne courage, and that gesture gave him an
+opportunity. He seized her hand, murmured, “Angel of goodness!” and
+bestowed a long, loving kiss on her hand that made it quiver under his
+lips.
+
+“Oh!” cried Miss Maitland, bursting into the room at the nick of time,
+yet feigning amazement.
+
+Fanny heard the ejaculations, and whipped away from Harrington into the
+window. Zoe, with no motive but her own coyness, had already snatched her
+hand away from Severne.
+
+But both young ladies were one moment too late. The eagle eye of a
+terrible old maid had embraced the entire situation, and they saw it had.
+
+Harrington Vizard, Esq., smoked on, with his back to the group. But the
+rest were a picture--the mutinous face and keen eyes of Fanny Dover,
+bristling with defense, at the window; Zoe blushing crimson, and newly
+started away from her too-enterprising wooer; and the tall, thin, grim
+old maid, standing stiff, as sentinel, at the bedroom door, and gimleting
+both her charges alternately with steel-gray orbs; she seemed like an
+owl, all eyes and beak.
+
+When the chaperon had fixed the situation thoroughly, she stalked erect
+into the room, and said, very expressively, “I am afraid I disturb you.”
+
+Zoe, from crimson, blushed scarlet, and hung her head; but Fanny was
+ready.
+
+“La! aunt,” said she, ironically, and with pertness infinite, “you know
+you are always welcome. Where ever have you been all this time? We were
+afraid we had lost you.”
+
+Aunt fired her pistol in reply: “I was not far off--most fortunately.”
+
+Zoe, finding that, even under crushing circumstances, Fanny had fight in
+her, glided instantly to her side, and Aunt Maitland opened battle all
+round.
+
+“May I ask, sir,” said she to Severne, with a horrible smile, “what you
+were doing when I came in?”
+
+Zoe clutched Fanny, and both awaited Mr. Severne's reply for one moment
+with keen anxiety.
+
+“My dear Miss Maitland,” said that able young man, very respectfully, yet
+with a sort of cheerful readiness, as if he were delighted at her
+deigning to question him, “to tell you the truth, I was admiring Miss
+Vizard's diamond ring.”
+
+Fanny tittered; Zoe blushed again at such a fib and such _aplomb._
+
+“Oh, indeed,” said Miss Maitland; “you were admiring it very close, sir.”
+
+“It is like herself--it will bear inspection.”
+
+This was wormwood to Miss Maitland. “Even in our ashes live their wonted
+fires;” and, though she was sixty, she disliked to hear a young woman
+praised. She bridled, then returned to the attack.
+
+“Next time you wish to inspect it, you had better ask her _to take it
+off,_ and show you.”
+
+“May I, Miss Maitland?” inquired the ingenuous youth. “She would not
+think that a liberty?”
+
+His mild effrontery staggered her for a moment, and she glared at him,
+speechless, but soon recovered, and said, bitterly, “Evidently _not.”_
+With this she turned her back on him rather ungraciously, and opened fire
+on her own sex.
+
+“Zoe!” (sharply).
+
+“Yes, aunt.” (faintly)
+
+“Tell your brother--if he can leave off smoking--I wish to speak to him.”
+
+Zoe hung her head, and was in no hurry to bring about the proposed
+conference.
+
+While she deliberated, says Fanny, with vast alacrity, “I'll tell him,
+aunt.”
+
+“Oh, Fanny!” murmured Zoe, in a reproachful whisper.
+
+“All right!” whispered Fanny in reply, and whipped out on to the balcony.
+“Here's Aunt Maitland wants to know if you ever leave off smoking;” and
+she threw a most aggressive manner into the query.
+
+The big man replied, composedly, “Tell her I do--at meals and prayers;
+but I always _sleep_ with a pipe in my mouth--heavily insured!”
+
+“Well, then, you mustn't; for she has something very particular to say to
+you when you've done smoking.”
+
+“Something particular! That means something disagreeable. Tell her I
+shall be smoking all day to-day.”
+
+Fanny danced into the room and said, “He says he shall be smoking all
+day, _under the circumstances.”_
+
+Miss Maitland gave this faithful messenger the look of a basilisk, and
+flounced to her own room. The young ladies instantly stepped out on the
+balcony, and got one on each side of Harrington, with the feminine
+instinct of propitiation; for they felt sure the enemy would tell, soon
+or late.
+
+“What does the old cat want to talk to me about?” said Harrington,
+lazily, to Fanny.
+
+It was Zoe who replied:
+
+“Can't you guess, dear?” said she, tenderly--“our misconduct.” Then she
+put her head on his shoulder, as much as to say, “But we have a more
+lenient judge here.”
+
+“As if I could not see _that_ without her assistance!” said Harrington
+Vizard. (Puff!) At which comfortable reply Zoe looked very rueful, and
+Fanny burst out laughing.
+
+Soon after this Fanny gave Zoe a look, and they retired to their rooms;
+and Zoe said she would never come out again, and Fanny must stay with
+her. Fanny felt sure _ennui_ would thaw that resolve in a few hours; so
+she submitted, but declared it was absurd, and the very way to give a
+perfect trifle importance.
+
+“Kiss your hand!” said she, disdainfully--“that is nothing. If I was the
+man, I'd have kissed both your cheeks long before this.”
+
+“And I should have boxed your ears and made you cry,” said Zoe, with calm
+superiority.
+
+So she had her way, and the deserted Severne felt dull, but was too good
+a general to show it. He bestowed his welcome company on Mr. Vizard,
+walked with him, talked with him, and made himself so agreeable, that
+Vizard, who admired him greatly, said to him, “What a good fellow you
+are, to bestow your sunshine on me. I began to be afraid those girls had
+got you, and tied you to their apron-strings altogether.”
+
+“Oh, no!” said Severne: “they are charming; but, after all, one can't do
+without a male friend: there are so few things that interest ladies.
+Unless you can talk red-hot religion, you are bound to flirt with them a
+little. To be sure, they look shy, if you do, but if you don't--”
+
+“They _are_ bored; whereas they only _looked_ shy. I know 'em. Call
+another subject, please.”
+
+“Well, I will; but perhaps it may not be so agreeable a one.”
+
+“That is very unlikely,” said the woman-hater, dryly.
+
+“Well, it is Tin. I'm rather short. You see, when I fell in with you at
+Monaco, I had no idea of coming this way; but, meeting with an old
+college friend--what a tie college is, isn't it? There is nothing like
+it; when you have been at college with a man, you seem never to wear him
+out, as you do the acquaintances you make afterward.”
+
+“That is very true,” said Vizard warmly.
+
+“Isn't it? Now, for instance, if I had only known you of late years, I
+should feel awfully shy of borrowing a few hundreds of you--for a month
+or two.”
+
+“I don't know why you should, old fellow.”
+
+“I should, though. But having been at college together makes all the
+difference. I don't mind telling you that I have never been at Homburg
+without taking a turn at the table, and I am grizzling awfully now at not
+having sent to my man of business for funds.”
+
+“How much do you want? That is the only question.”
+
+“Glad to hear it,” thought Severne. “Well, let me see, you can't back
+your luck with less than five hundred.”
+
+“Well, but we have been out two months; I am afraid I haven't so much
+left. Just let me see.” He took out his pocket-book, and examined his
+letter of credit. “Do you want it to-day?”
+
+“Why, yes; I do.”
+
+“Well, then, I am afraid you can only have three hundred. But I will
+telegraph Herries, and funds will be here to-morrow afternoon.”
+
+“All right,” said Severne.
+
+Vizard took him to the bank, and exhausted his letter of credit: then to
+the telegraph-office, and telegraphed Herries to enlarge his credit at
+once. He handed Severne the three hundred pounds. The young man's eye
+flashed, and it cost him an effort not to snatch them and wave them over
+his head with joy: but he controlled himself, and took them like
+two-pence-halfpenny. “Thank you, old fellow,” said he. Then, still more
+carelessly, “Like my I O U?”
+
+“As you please,” said Vizard, with similar indifference; only real.
+
+After he had got the money, Severne's conversational powers
+relaxed--short answers--long reveries.
+
+Vizard observed, stopped short, and eyed him. “I remember something at
+Oxford, and I am afraid you are a gambler; if you are, you won't be good
+for much till you have lost that three hundred. It will be a dull evening
+for me without you: I know what I'll do--I'll take my hen-party to the
+opera at Homburg. There are stalls to be got here. I'll get one for you,
+on the chance of your dropping in.”
+
+The stalls were purchased, and the friends returned at once to the hotel,
+to give the ladies timely intimation. They found Fanny and Zoe seated,
+rather disconsolate, in the apartment Zoe had formally renounced: at
+sight of the stall tickets, the pair uttered joyful cries, looked at each
+other, and vanished.
+
+“You won't see _them_ any more till dinner-time,” said Vizard. “They will
+be discussing dress, selecting dress, trying dresses, and changing
+dresses, for the next three hours.” He turned round while speaking, and
+there was Severne slipping away to his own bedroom.
+
+Thus deserted on all sides, he stepped into the balcony and lighted a
+cigar. While he was smoking it, he observed an English gentleman, with a
+stalwart figure and a beautiful brown beard, standing on the steps of the
+hotel. “Halloo!” said he, and hailed him. “Hi, Uxmoor! is that you?”
+
+Lord Uxmoor looked up, and knew him. He entered the hotel, and the next
+minute the waiter ushered him into Vizard's sitting-room.
+
+Lord Uxmoor, like Mr. Vizard, was a landed proprietor in Barfordshire.
+The county is large, and they lived too many miles apart to visit; but
+they met, and agreed, at elections and county business, and had a respect
+for each other.
+
+Meeting at Frankfort, these two found plenty to say to each other about
+home; and as Lord Uxmoor was alone, Vizard asked him to dine. “You will
+balance us,” said he: “we are terribly overpetticoated, and one of them
+is an old maid. We generally dine at the _table-d'hote,_ but I have
+ordered dinner _here_ to-day: we are going to the opera at Homburg. You
+are not obliged to do that, you know. You are in for a bad dinner, that
+is all.”
+
+“To tell the truth,” said Lord Uxmoor, “I don't care for music.”
+
+“Then you deserve a statue for not pretending to love it. I adore it, for
+my part, and I wish I was going alone, for my hens will be sure to cackle
+_mal 'a propos,_ and spoil some famous melody with talking about it, and
+who sung it in London, instead of listening to it, and thanking God for
+it in deep silence.”
+
+Lord Uxmoor stared a little at this sudden sally, for he was unacquainted
+with Vizard's one eccentricity, having met him only on county business,
+at which he was extra rational, and passed for a great scholar. He really
+did suck good books as well as cigars.
+
+After a few more words, they parted till dinner-time.
+
+
+Lord Uxmoor came to his appointment, and found his host and Miss
+Maitland, whom he knew; and he was in languid conversation with them,
+when a side-door opened, and in walked Fanny Dover, fair and bright, in
+Cambridge blue, her hair well dressed by Zoe's maid in the style of the
+day. Lord Uxmoor rose, and received his fair country-woman with
+respectful zeal; he had met her once before. She, too, sparkled with
+pleasure at meeting a Barfordshire squire with a long pedigree, purse,
+and beard--three things she admired greatly.
+
+In the midst of this, in glided Zoe, and seemed to extinguish everybody,
+and even to pale the lights, with her dark yet sunlike beauty. She was
+dressed in a creamy-white satin that glinted like mother-of-pearl, its
+sheen and glory unfrittered with a single idiotic trimming; on her breast
+a large diamond cross. Her head was an Athenian sculpture--no chignon,
+but the tight coils of antiquity; at their side, one diamond star
+sparkled vivid flame, by its contrast with those polished ebon snakes.
+
+Lord Uxmoor was dazzled, transfixed, at the vision, and bowed very low
+when Vizard introduced him in an off-hand way, saying, “My sister, Miss
+Vizard; but I dare say you have met her at the county balls.”
+
+“I have never been so fortunate,” said Uxmoor, humbly.
+
+“I have,” said Zoe; “that is, I saw you waltzing with Lady Betty Gore at
+the race ball two years ago.”
+
+“What!” said Vizard, alarmed. “Uxmoor, were you waltzing with Lady Betty
+Gore?”
+
+“You have it on too high an authority for me to contradict.”
+
+Finding Zoe was to be trusted as a county chronicle, Vizard turned
+sharply to her, and said, “And was he flirting with her?”
+
+Zoe colored a little, and said, “Now, Harrington, how can I tell?”
+
+“You little hypocrite,” said Vizard, “who can tell better?”
+
+At this retort Zoe blushed high, and the water came into her eyes.
+
+Nobody minded that but Uxmoor, and Vizard went on to explain, “That Lady
+Betty Gore is as heartless a coquette as any in the county; and don't you
+flirt with her, or you will get entangled.”
+
+“You disapprove her,” said Uxmoor, coolly; “then I give her up forever.”
+ He looked at Zoe while he said this, and felt how easy it would be to
+resign Lady Betty and a great many more for this peerless creature. He
+did not mean her to understand what was passing in his mind; he did not
+know how subtle and observant the most innocent girl is in such matters.
+Zoe blushed, and drew away from him. Just then Ned Severne came in, and
+Vizard introduced him to Uxmoor with great geniality and pride. The
+charming young man was in a black surtout, with a blue scarf, the very
+tint for his complexion.
+
+The girls looked at one another, and in a moment Fanny was elected Zoe's
+agent. She signaled Severne, and when he came to her she said, for Zoe,
+“Don't you know we are going to the opera at Homburg?”
+
+“Yes, I know,” said he, “and I hope you will have a pleasanter evening
+than I shall.”
+
+“You are not coming with us?”
+
+“No,” said he, sorrowfully.
+
+“You had better,” said Fanny, with a deal of quiet point, more, indeed,
+than Zoe's pride approved.
+
+“Not if Mr. Severne has something more attractive,” said she, turning
+palish and pinkish by turns.
+
+All this went on _sotto voce,_ and Uxmoor, out of good-breeding, entered
+into conversation with Miss Maitland and Vizard. Severne availed himself
+of this diversion, and fixed his eyes on Zoe with an air of gentle
+reproach, then took a letter out of his pocket, and handed it to Fanny.
+She read it, and gave it to Zoe.
+
+It was dated from “The Golden Star,” Homburg.
+
+
+“DEAR NED--I am worse to-day, and all alone. Now and then I almost fear I
+may not pull through. But perhaps that is through being so hipped. Do
+come and spend this evening with me like a good, kind fellow.
+
+“Telegraph reply.
+
+“S. T.”
+
+
+“Poor fellow,” said Ned; “my heart bleeds for him.”
+
+Zoe was affected by this, and turned liquid and loving eyes on “dear
+Ned.” But Fanny stood her ground. “Go to 'S. T.' to-morrow morning, but
+don't desert 'Z. V.' and 'F. D.' to-night.” Zoe smiled.
+
+“But I have telegraphed!” objected Ned.
+
+“Then telegraph again--_not,”_ said Fanny firmly.
+
+Now, this was unexpected. Severne had set his heart upon _rouge et noir,_
+but still he was afraid of offending Zoe; and, besides, he saw Uxmoor,
+with his noble beard and brown eyes, casting rapturous glances at her.
+“Let Miss Vizard decide,” said he. “Don't let me be so unhappy as to
+offend her twice in one day.”
+
+Zoe's pride and goodness dictated her answer, in spite of her wishes. She
+said, in a low voice, “Go to your sick friend.”
+
+“There,” said Severne.
+
+“I hear,” said Fanny. “She means 'go;' but you shall repent it.”
+
+“I mean what I say,” said Zoe, with real dignity. “It is my habit.” And
+the next moment she quietly left the room.
+
+She sat down in her bedroom, mortified and alarmed. What! Had it come to
+this, that she felt her heart turn cold just because that young man said
+he could not accompany her--on a single evening! Then first she
+discovered that it was for him she had dressed, and had, for once,
+beautified her beauty--for _him;_ that with Fanny she had dwelt upon the
+delights of the music, but had secretly thought of appearing publicly on
+_his_ arm, and dazzling people by their united and contrasted beauty.
+
+She rose, all of a sudden, and looked keenly at herself in the glass, to
+see if she had not somehow overrated her attractions. But the glass was
+reassuring. It told her not one man in a million could go to a sick
+friend that night, when he might pass the evening by her side, and visit
+his friend early in the morning. Best loved is best served. Tears of
+mortified vanity were in her eyes; but she smiled through them at the
+glass; then dried them carefully, and went back to the dining-room
+radiant, to all appearance.
+
+Dinner was just served, and her brother, to do honor to the new-comer,
+waved his sister to a seat by Lord Uxmoor. He looked charmed at the
+arrangement, and showed a great desire to please her, but at first was
+unable to find good topics. After several timid overtures on his part,
+she assisted him, out of good-nature, She knew by report that he was a
+very benevolent young man, bent on improving the home, habits, wages, and
+comforts of the agricultural poor. She led him to this, and his eyes
+sparkled with pleasure, and his homely but manly face lighted, and was
+elevated by the sympathy she expressed in these worthy objects. He could
+not help thinking: “What a Lady Uxmoor this would make! She and I and her
+brother might leaven the county.”
+
+And all this time she would not even bestow a glance on Severne. She was
+not an angel. She had said, “Go to your sick friend;” but she had not
+said, “I will smart alone if you _do.”_
+
+Severne sat by Fanny, and seemed dejected, but, as usual, polite and
+charming. She was smilingly cruel; regaled him with Lord Uxmoor's wealth
+and virtues, and said he was an excellent match, and all she-Barfordshire
+pulling caps for him. Severne only sighed; he offered no resistance; and
+at last she could not go on nagging a handsome fellow, who only sighed,
+so she said, “Well, _there;_ I advise you to join us before the opera is
+over, that is all.”
+
+“I will, I will!” said he, eagerly. “Oh, thank you.”
+
+Dinner was dispatched rather rapidly, because of the opera.
+
+When the ladies got their cloaks and lace scarfs, to put over their heads
+coming home, the party proved to be only three, and the tickets five; for
+Miss Maitland pleaded headache.
+
+On this, Lord Uxmoor said, rather timidly, he should like to go.
+
+“Why, you said you hated music,” said Vizard.
+
+Lord Uxmoor colored. “I recant,” said he, bluntly; and everybody saw what
+had operated his conversion. That is a pun.
+
+It is half an hour, by rail, from Frankfort to Homburg, and the party
+could not be seated together. Vizard bestowed Zoe and Lord Uxmoor in one
+carriage, Fanny and Severne in another, and himself and a cigar in the
+third. Severne sat gazing piteously on Fanny Dover, but never said a
+word. She sat and eyed him satirically for a good while, and then she
+said, cheerfully, “Well, Mr. Severne, how do you like the turn things are
+taking?”
+
+“Miss Dover, I am very unhappy.”
+
+“Serves you right.”
+
+“Oh, pray don't say that. It is on you I depend.”
+
+“On me, sir! What have I to do with your flirtations?”
+
+“No; but you are so clever, and so good. If for once you will take a poor
+fellow's part with Miss Vizard, behind my back; oh, please do--pray do,”
+ and, in the ardor of entreaty, he caught Fanny's white hand and kissed it
+with warm but respectful devotion. Indeed, he held it and kissed it again
+and again, till Fanny, though she minded it no more than marble, was
+going to ask him satirically whether he had not almost done with it, when
+at last he contrived to squeeze out one of his little hysterical tears,
+and drop it on her hand.
+
+Now, the girl was not butter, like some of her sex; far from it: but
+neither was she wood--indeed, she was not old enough for that--so this
+crocodile tear won her for the time being. “There--there,” said she;
+“don't be a baby. I'll be on your side tonight; only, if you care for
+her, come and look after her yourself. Beautiful women with money won't
+stand neglect, Mr. Severne; and why should they? They are not like poor
+me; they have got the game in their hands.” The train stopped. Vizard's
+party drove to the opera, and Severne ordered a cab to The Golden Star,
+meaning to stop it and get out; but, looking at his watch, he found it
+wanted half an hour to gambling time, so he settled to have a cup of
+coffee first, and a cigar. With this view he let the man drive him to The
+Golden Star.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+INA KLOSKING worked night and day upon Siebel, in Gounod's “Faust,” and
+upon the songs that had been added to give weight to the part.
+
+She came early to the theater at night, and sat, half dressed, fatigued,
+and nervous, in her dressing-room.
+
+Crash!--the first _coup d'archet_ announced the overture, and roused her
+energy, as if Ithuriel's spear had pricked her. She came down dressed, to
+listen at one of the upper entrances, to fill herself with the musical
+theme, before taking her part in it, and also to gauge the audience and
+the singers.
+
+The man Faust was a German; but the musical part Faust seems better
+suited to an Italian or a Frenchman. Indeed, some say that, as a rule,
+the German genius excels in creation and the Italian in representation or
+interpretation. For my part, I am unable to judge nations in the lump, as
+some fine fellows do, because nations are composed of very different
+individuals, and I know only one to the million; but I do take on me to
+say that the individual Herr who executed Doctor Faustus at Homburg that
+night had everything to learn, except what he had to unlearn. His person
+was obese; his delivery of the words was mouthing, chewing, and gurgling;
+and he uttered the notes in tune, but without point, pathos, or passion;
+a steady lay-clerk from York or Durham Cathedral would have done a little
+better, because he would have been no colder at heart, and more exact in
+time, and would have sung clean; whereas this gentleman set his windpipe
+trembling, all through the business, as if palsy were passion. By what
+system of leverage such a man came to be hoisted on to such a pinnacle of
+song as “Faust” puzzled our English friends in front as much as it did
+the Anglo-Danish artist at the wing; for English girls know what is what
+in opera.
+
+The Marguerite had a voice of sufficient compass, and rather sweet,
+though thin. The part demands a better _actress_ than Patti, and this
+Fraulein was not half as good: she put on the painful grin of a
+prize-fighter who has received a staggerer, and grinned all through the
+part, though there is little in it to grin at.
+
+She also suffered by having to play to a Faust milked of his poetry, and
+self-smitten with a _tremolo_ which, as I said before, is the voice of
+palsy, and is not, nor ever was, nor ever will be, the voice of passion.
+Bless your heart, passion is a manly thing, a womanly thing, a grand
+thing, not a feeble, quavering, palsied, anile, senile thing. Learn that,
+ye trembling, quavering idiots of song!
+
+“They let me down,” whispered Ina Klosking to her faithful Ashmead. “I
+feel all out of tune. I shall never be able. And the audience so cold. It
+will be like singing in a sepulcher.”
+
+“What would you think of them, if they applauded?” said Ashmead.
+
+“I should say they were good, charitable souls, and the very audience I
+shall want in five minutes.”
+
+“No, no,” said Ashmead, “all you want is a discriminating audience; and
+this is one. Remember they have all seen Patti in Marguerite. Is it
+likely they would applaud this tin stick?”
+
+Ina turned the conversation with feminine quickness. “Mr. Ashmead, have
+you kept your promise; my name is not in the programme?”
+
+“It is not; and a great mistake too.”
+
+“I have not been announced by name in any way?”
+
+“No. But, of course, I have nursed you a bit.”
+
+“Nursed me? What is that? Oh, what have you been doing? No
+_charlatanerie,_ I hope.”
+
+“Nothing of the kind,” said Ashmead, stoutly; “only the regular
+business.”
+
+“And pray what is the regular business?” inquired Ina, distrustfully.
+
+“Why, of course, I sent on the manager to say that Mademoiselle Schwaub
+had been taken seriously ill; that we had been fearing we must break
+faith with the public for the first time; but that a cantatrice, who had
+left the stage, appreciating our difficulty, had, with rare kindness,
+come to our aid for this one night: we felt sure a Humbug audience--what
+am I saying?--a Homburg audience would appreciate this, and make due
+allowance for a performance undertaken in such a spirit, and with
+imperfect rehearsals, etc.--in short, the usual patter; and the usual
+effect, great applause. Indeed, the only applause that I have heard in
+this theater to-night. Ashmead ahead of Gounod, so far.”
+
+Ina Klosking put both hands before her face, and uttered a little moan.
+She had really a soul above these artifices. “So, then,” said she, “if
+they do receive me, it will be out of charity.”
+
+“No, no; but on your first night you must have two strings to your bow.”
+
+“But I have only one. These cajoling speeches are a waste of breath. A
+singer can sing, or she can _not_ sing, and they find out which it is as
+soon as she opens her mouth.”
+
+“Well, then, you open your mouth--that is just what half the singers
+can't do--and they will soon find out you can sing.”
+
+“I hope they may. I do not know. I am discouraged. I'm terrified. I think
+it is stage-fright,” and she began to tremble visibly, for the time drew
+near.
+
+Ashmead ran off and brought her some brandy-and-water. She put up her
+hand against it with royal scorn. “No, sir! If the theater, and the
+lights, and the people, the mind of Goethe, and the music of Gounod,
+can't excite me without _that,_ put me at the counter of a cafe', for I
+have no business here.”
+
+The power, without violence, and the grandeur with which she said this
+would have brought down the house had she spoken it in a play without a
+note of music; and Ashmead drew back respectfully, but chuckled
+internally at the idea of this Minerva giving change in a cafe'.
+
+And now her cue was coming. She ordered everybody out of the entrance not
+very ceremoniously, and drew well back. Then, at her cue, she made a
+stately rush, and so, being in full swing before she cleared the wing,
+she swept into the center of the stage with great rapidity and
+resolution; no trace either of her sorrowful heart or her quaking limbs
+was visible from the front.
+
+There was a little applause, all due to Ashmead's preliminary apology,
+but there was no real reception; for Germany is large and musical, and
+she was not immediately recognized at Homburg. But there was that
+indescribable flutter which marks a good impression and keen expectation
+suddenly aroused. She was beautiful on the stage for one thing; her
+figure rather tall and stately, and her face full of power: and then the
+very way she came on showed the step and carriage of an artist at home
+upon the boards.
+
+She cast a rapid glance round the house, observed its size, and felt her
+way. She sung her first song evenly, but not tamely, yet with restrained
+power; but the tones were so full and flexible, the expression so easy
+yet exact, that the judges saw there was no effort, and suspected
+something big might be yet in store to-night. At the end of her song she
+did let out for a moment, and, at this well-timed foretaste of her power,
+there was applause, but nothing extravagant.
+
+She was quite content, however. She met Ashmead, as she came off, and
+said, “All is well, my friend, so far. They are sitting in judgment on
+me, like sensible people, and not in a hurry. I rather like that.”
+
+“Your own fault,” said Joseph. “You should have been announced. Prejudice
+is a surer card than judgment. The public is an ass.”
+
+“It must come to the same thing in the end,” said the Klosking firmly.
+“One can sing, or one cannot.”
+
+
+Her next song was encored, and she came off flushed with art and
+gratified pride. “I have no fears now,” said she, to her Achates, firmly.
+“I have my barometer; a young lady in the stalls. Oh, such a beautiful
+creature, with black hair and eyes! She applauds me fearlessly. Her
+glorious eyes speak to mine, and inspire me. She is _happy,_ she is. I
+drink sunbeams at her. I shall act and sing 'Le Parlate d'Amor' for
+_her_--and you will see.”
+
+
+Between the acts, who should come in but Ned Severne, and glided into the
+vacant stall by Zoe's side.
+
+She quivered at his coming near her; he saw it, and felt a thrill of
+pleasure himself.
+
+“How is 'S. T.'?” said she, kindly.
+
+“'S. T.'?” said he, forgetting.
+
+“Why, your sick friend, to be sure.”
+
+“Oh, not half so bad as he thought. I was a fool to lose an hour of you
+for _him._ He was hipped; had lost all his money at _rouge et noir._ So I
+lent him fifty pounds, and that did him more good than the doctor. You
+forgive me?”
+
+“Forgive you? I approve. Are you going back to him?” said she, demurely.
+
+“No, thank you, I have made sacrifices enough.”
+
+And so indeed he had, having got cleaned out of three hundred pounds
+through preferring gambling to beauty.
+
+“Singers good?” he inquired.
+
+“Wretched, all but one; and she is divine.”
+
+“Indeed. Who is she?”
+
+“I don't know. A gentleman in black came out--”
+
+“Mephistopheles?”
+
+“No--how dare you?--and said a singer that had retired would perform the
+part of 'Siebel, to oblige; and she has obliged me for one. She is, oh,
+so superior to the others! Such a heavenly contralto; and her upper
+notes, honey dropping from the comb. And then she is so modest, so
+dignified, _and_ so beautiful. She is fair as a lily; and such a
+queen-like brow, and deep, gray eyes, full of sadness and soul. I'm
+afraid she is not happy. Once or twice she fixed them on me, and they
+magnetized me, and drew me to her. So I magnetized her in return. I
+should know her anywhere fifty years hence. Now, if I were a man, I
+should love that woman and make her love me.”
+
+“Then I am very glad you are not a man,” said Severne, tenderly.
+
+“So am I,” whispered Zoe, and blushed. The curtain rose.
+
+“Listen now, Mr. Chatterbox,” said Zoe.
+
+Ned Severne composed himself to listen; but Fraulein Graas had not sung
+many bars before he revolted. “Listen to what?” said he; “and look at
+what? The only Marguerite in the place is by my side.”
+
+Zoe colored with pleasure; but her good sense was not to be blinded. “The
+only good black Mephistophe-_less_ you mean,” said she. “To be
+Marguerite, one must be great, and sweet, and tender; yes, and far more
+lovely than ever woman was. That lady is a better color for the part than
+I am; but neither she nor I shall ever be Marguerite.”
+
+He murmured in her ear. “You are Marguerite, for you could fire a man's
+heart so that he would sell his soul to gain you.”
+
+It was the accent of passion and the sensitive girl quivered. Yet she
+defended herself--in words, “Hush!” said she. “That is wicked--out of an
+opera. Fanny would laugh at you, if she heard.”
+
+Here were two reasons for not making such hot love in the stalls of an
+opera. Which of the two weighed most with the fair reasoner shall be left
+to her own sex.
+
+The brief scene ended with the declaration of the evil spirit that
+Marguerite is lost.
+
+“There,” said Zoe, naively, “that is over, thank goodness: now you will
+hear _my_ singer.”
+
+Siebel and Marta came on from opposite sides of the stage. “See!” said
+Zoe, “isn't she lovely?” and she turned her beaming face full on Severne,
+to share her pleasure with him. To her amazement the man seemed
+transformed: a dark cloud had come over his sunny countenance. He sat,
+pale, and seemed to stare at the tall, majestic, dreamy singer, who stood
+immovable, dressed like a velvet youth, yet looking like no earthly boy,
+but a draped statue of Mercury,
+
+“New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill.”
+
+The blood left his lips, and Zoe thought he was faint; but the next
+moment he put his handkerchief hastily to his nose, and wriggled his way
+out, with a rush and a crawl, strangely combined, at the very moment when
+the singer delivered her first commanding note of recitative.
+
+Everybody about looked surprised and disgusted at so ill-timed an exit;
+but Zoe, who had seen his white face, was seriously alarmed, and made a
+movement to rise too, and watch, or even follow him; but, when he got to
+the side, he looked back to her, and made her a signal that his nose was
+bleeding, but it was of no great consequence. He even pointed with his
+finger out and then back again, indicating he should not be long gone.
+
+This re-assured her greatly; for she had always been told a little
+bleeding of that sort was good for hot-headed young people. Then the
+singer took complete hold of her. The composer, to balance the delightful
+part of Marguerite, has given Siebel a melody with which wonders can be
+done; and the Klosking had made a considerable reserve of her powers for
+this crowning effort. After a recitative that rivaled the silver trumpet,
+she flung herself with immediate and electrifying ardor into the melody;
+the orchestra, taken by surprise, fought feebly for the old ripple; but
+the Klosking, resolute by nature, was now mighty as Neptune, and would
+have her big waves. The momentary struggle, in which she was loyally
+seconded by the conductor, evoked her grand powers. Catgut had to yield
+to brains, and the whole orchestra, composed, after all, of good
+musicians, soon caught the divine afflatus, and the little theater seemed
+on fire with music; the air, sung with a large rhythm, swelled and rose,
+and thrilled every breast with amazement and delight; the house hung
+breathless: by-and-by there were pale cheeks, panting bosoms, and wet
+eyes, the true, rare triumphs of the sovereigns of song; and when the
+last note had pealed and ceased to vibrate, the pent-up feelings broke
+forth in a roar of applause, which shook the dome, followed by a clapping
+of hands, like a salvo, that never stopped till Ina Klosking, who had
+retired, came forward again.
+
+She courtesied with admirable dignity, modesty, and respectful gravity,
+and the applause thundered, and people rose at her in clusters about the
+house, and waved their hats and handkerchiefs at her, and a little
+Italian recognized her, and cried out as loud as he could, “Viva la
+Klosking! viva!” and she heard that, and it gave her a thrill; and Zoe
+Vizard, being out of England, and, therefore, brave as a lioness, stood
+boldly up at her full height, and, taking her bouquet in her right hand,
+carried it swiftly to her left ear, and so flung it, with a free
+back-handed sweep, more Oriental than English, into the air, and it
+lighted beside the singer; and she saw the noble motion, and the bouquet
+fly, and, when she made her last courtesy at the wing, she fixed her eyes
+on Zoe, and then put her hand to her heart with a most touching gesture
+that said, “Most of all I value your bouquet and your praise.”
+
+Then the house buzzed, and ranks were leveled; little people spoke to big
+people, and big to little, in mutual congratulation; for at such rare
+moments (except in Anglo-Saxony) instinct seems to tell men that true art
+is a sunshine of the soul, and blesses the rich and the poor alike.
+
+One person was affected in another way. Harrington Vizard sat rapt in
+attention, and never took his eyes off her, yet said not a word.
+
+Several Russian and Prussian grandees sought an introduction to the new
+singer. But she pleaded fatigue.
+
+The manager entreated her to sup with him, and meet the Grand Duke of
+Hesse. She said she had a prior engagement.
+
+She went quietly home, and supped with her faithful Ashmead, and very
+heartily too; for nature was exhausted, and agitation had quite spoiled
+her dinner.
+
+Joseph Ashmead, in the pride of his heart, proposed a bottle of
+champagne. The Queen of Song, with triumph flushed, looked rather blue at
+that. “My friend,” said she, in a meek, deprecating way, “we are
+working-people: is not Bordeaux good enough for _us?”_
+
+“Yes; but it is not good enough for the occasion,” said Joseph, a little
+testily. “Well, never mind;” and he muttered to himself, “that is the
+worst of _good_ women: they are so terribly stingy.”
+
+The Queen of Song, with triumph flushed, did not catch these words, but
+only a little growling. However, as supper proceeded, she got uneasy. So
+she rang the bell, and ordered a _pint:_ of this she drank one spoonful.
+The remainder, co-operating with triumph and claret, kept Ashmead in a
+great flow of spirits. He traced her a brilliant career. To be
+photographed tomorrow morning as Siebel, and in plain dress. Paragraphs
+in _Era, Figaro, Galignani, Inde'pendance Belge,_ and the leading
+dailies. Large wood-cuts before leaving Homburg for Paris, London,
+Vienna, St. Petersburg, and New York.”
+
+“I'm in your hands,” said she, and smiled languidly, to please him.
+
+But by-and-by he looked at her, and found she was taking a little cry all
+to herself.
+
+“Dear me!” said he, “what is the matter?”
+
+“My friend, forgive me. _He_ was not there to share my triumph.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+AS the opera drew to an end, Zoe began to look round more and more for
+Severne; but he did not come, and Lord Uxmoor offered his arm earnestly.
+She took it; but hung back a moment on his very arm, to tell Harrington
+Mr. Severne had been taken ill.
+
+At the railway station the truant emerged suddenly, just as the train was
+leaving; but Lord Uxmoor had secured three seats, and the defaulter had
+to go with Harrington. On reaching the hotel, the ladies took their
+bed-candles; but Uxmoor found time to propose an excursion next day,
+Sunday, to a lovely little lake--open carriage, four horses. The young
+ladies accepted, but Mr. Severne declined; he thanked Lord Uxmoor
+politely, but he had arrears of correspondence.
+
+Zoe cast a mortified and rather a haughty glance on him, and Fanny
+shrugged her shoulders incredulously.
+
+These two ladies brushed hair together in Zoe's room. That is a soothing
+operation, my masters, and famous for stimulating females to friendly
+gossip; but this time there was, for once, a guarded reserve. Zoe was
+irritated, puzzled, mortified, and even grieved by Severne's conduct.
+Fanny was gnawed by jealousy, and out of temper. She had forgiven Zoe Ned
+Severne. But that young lady was insatiable; Lord Uxmoor, too, had fallen
+openly in love with her--openly to a female eye. So, then, a blonde had
+no chance, with a dark girl by: thus reasoned she, and it was
+intolerable. It was some time before either spoke an atom of what was
+uppermost in her mind. They each doled out a hundred sentences that
+missed the mind and mingled readily with the atmosphere, being, in fact,
+mere preliminary and idle air. So two deer, in duel, go about and about,
+and even affect to look another way, till they are ripe for collision.
+There be writers would give the reader all the preliminary puffs of
+articulated wind, and everybody would say, “How clever! That is just the
+way girls really talk.” But I leave the glory of photographing nullities
+to the geniuses of the age, and run to the first words which could,
+without impiety, be called dialogue.
+
+“Don't you think his conduct a little mysterious?” said Zoe, _mal 'a
+propos_ of anything that had been said hitherto.
+
+“Well, yes; rather,” said Fanny, with marked carelessness.
+
+“First, a sick friend; then a bleeding at the nose; and now he won't
+drive to the lake with us. Arrears of correspondence? Pooh!”
+
+Now, Fanny's suspicions were deeper than Zoe's; she had observed Severne
+keenly: but it was not her cue to speak. She yawned and said, “What
+_does_ it matter?”
+
+“Don't be unkind, Fanny. It matters to _me.”_
+
+“Not it. You have another ready.”
+
+“What other? There is no one that I--Fanny.”
+
+“Oh, nonsense! The man is evidently smitten, and you keep encouraging
+him.”
+
+“No, I don't; I am barely civil. And don't be ill-natured. What _can_ I
+do?”
+
+“Why, be content with one at a time.”
+
+“It is very rude to talk so. Besides, I haven't got one, much less two. I
+begin to doubt _him;_ and, Lord Uxmoor! you know I cannot possibly care
+for him--an acquaintance of yesterday.”
+
+“But you know all about him--that he is an excellent _parti,”_ said
+Fanny, with a provoking sneer.
+
+This was not to be borne.
+
+“Oh!” said Zoe, “I see; you want him for yourself. It is _you_ that are
+not content with one. You forget how poor Harrington would miss your
+attentions. He would _begin_ to appreciate them--when he had lost them.”
+
+This stung, and Fanny turned white and red by turns. “I deserve this,”
+ said she, “for wasting advice on a coquette.”
+
+“That is not true. I'm no coquette; and here I am, asking your advice,
+and you only snub me. You are a jealous, cross, unreasonable thing.”
+
+“Well, I'm not a hypocrite.”
+
+“I never was called so before,” said Zoe, nobly and gently.
+
+“Then you were not found out, that is all. You look so simple and
+ingenuous, and blush if a man says half a word to you; and all the time
+you are a greater flirt than I am.”
+
+“Oh, Fanny!” screamed Zoe, with horror.
+
+It seems a repartee may be conveyed in a scream; for Fanny now lost her
+temper altogether. “Your conduct with those two men is abominable,” said
+she. “I won't speak to you any more.”
+
+“I beg you will _not,_ in your present temper,” said Zoe, with unaffected
+dignity, and rising like a Greek column.
+
+Fanny flounced out of the room.
+
+Zoe sat down and sighed, and her glorious eyes were dimmed.
+Mystery--doubt--and now a quarrel. What a day! At her age, a little
+cloud seems to darken the whole sky.
+
+
+Next morning the little party met at breakfast. Lord Uxmoor, anticipating
+a delightful day, was in high spirits, and he and Fanny kept up the ball.
+She had resolved, in the silent watches of the night, to contest him with
+Zoe, and make every possible use of Severne, in the conflict.
+
+Zoe was silent and _distraite,_ and did not even try to compete with her
+sparkling rival. But Lord Uxmoor's eyes often wandered from his sprightly
+companion to Zoe, and it was plain he longed for a word from her mouth.
+
+Fanny observed, bit her lip, and tacked internally, “'bout ship,” as the
+sailors say. Her game now, conceived in a moment, and at once put in
+execution, was to encourage Uxmoor's attentions to Zoe. She began by
+openly courting Mr. Severne, to make Zoe talk to Uxmoor, and also make
+him think that Severne and she were the lovers.
+
+Her intentions were to utilize the coming excursion: she would attach
+herself to Harrington, and so drive Zoe and Uxmoor together; and then
+Lord Uxmoor, at his present rate of amorous advance, would probably lead
+Zoe to a detached rock, and make her a serious declaration. This good,
+artful girl felt sure such a declaration, made a few months hence in
+Barfordshire, would be accepted, and herself left in the cold. Therefore
+she resolved it should be made prematurely, and in Prussia, with Severne
+at hand, and so in all probability come to nothing. She even glimpsed a
+vista of consequences, and in that little avenue discerned the figure of
+Fanny Dover playing the part of consoler, friend, and ultimately spouse
+to a wealthy noble.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE letters were brought in; one was to Vizard, from Herries, announcing
+a remittance; one to Lord Uxmoor. On reading it, he was surprised into an
+exclamation, and his face expressed great concern.
+
+“Oh!” said Zoe--“Harrington!”
+
+Harrington's attention being thus drawn, he said, “No bad news, I hope?”
+
+“Yes,” said Uxmoor, in a low voice, “very bad. My oldest, truest, dearest
+friend has been seized with small-pox, and his life is in danger. He has
+asked for me, poor fellow. This is from his sister. I must start by the
+twelve o'clock train.”
+
+“Small-pox! Why, it is contagious,” cried Fanny; “and so disfiguring!”
+
+“I can't help that,” said the honest fellow; and instantly rang the bell
+for his servant, and gave the requisite orders.
+
+Zoe, whose eye had never left him all the time, said, softly, “It is
+brave and good of you. We poor, emotional, cowardly girls should sit down
+and cry.”
+
+_“You_ would not, Miss Vizard,” said he, firmly, looking full at her. “If
+you think you would, you don't know yourself.”
+
+Zoe colored high, and was silent.
+
+Then Lord Uxmoor showed the true English gentleman. “I do hope,” said he,
+earnestly, though in a somewhat broken voice, “that you will not let this
+spoil the pleasure we had planned together. Harrington will be my
+deputy.”
+
+“Well, I don't know,” said Harrington, sympathizingly. Mr. Severne
+remarked, “Such an occurrence puts pleasure out of one's head.” This he
+said, with his eyes on his plate, like one repeating a lesson. “Vizard, I
+entreat you,” said Uxmoor, almost vexed. “It will only make me more
+unhappy if you don't.”
+
+“We will go,” cried Zoe, earnestly; “we promise to go. What does it
+matter? We shall think of you and your poor friend wherever we are. And I
+shall pray for him. But, ah, I know how little prayers avail to avert
+these cruel bereavements.” She was young, but old enough to have prayed
+hard for her sick mother's life, and, like the rest of us, prayed in
+vain. At this remembrance the tears ran undisguised down her cheeks.
+
+The open sympathy of one so young and beautiful, and withal rather
+reserved, made Lord Uxmoor gulp, and, not to break down before them all,
+he blurted out that he must go and pack: with this he hurried away.
+
+He was unhappy. Besides the calamity he dreaded, it was grievous to be
+torn away from a woman he loved at first sight, and just when she had
+come out so worthy of his love: she was a high-minded creature; she had
+been silent and reserved so long as the conversation was trivial; but,
+when trouble came, she was the one to speak to him bravely and kindly.
+Well, what must be, must. All this ran through his mind, and made him
+sigh; but it never occurred to him to shirk--to telegraph instead of
+going--nor yet to value himself on his self-denial.
+
+They did not see him again till he was on the point of going, and then he
+took leave of them all, Zoe last. When he came to her, he ignored the
+others, except that he lowered his voice in speaking to her. “God bless
+you for your kindness, Miss Vizard. It is a little hard upon a fellow to
+have to run away from such an acquaintance, just when I have been so
+fortunate as to make it.”
+
+“Oh, Lord Uxmoor,” said Zoe, innocently, “never mind that. Why, we live
+in the same county, and we are on the way home. All I think of is your
+poor friend; and do please telegraph--to Harrington.”
+
+He promised he would, and went away disappointed somehow at her last
+words.
+
+When he was gone, Severne went out on the balcony to smoke, and
+Harrington held a council with the young ladies. “Well, now,” said he,
+“about this trip to the lake.”
+
+“I shall not go, for one,” said Zoe, resolutely.
+
+“La!” said Fanny, looking carefully away from her to Harrington; “and she
+was the one that insisted.”
+
+Zoe ignored the speaker and set her face stiffly toward Harrington. “She
+only _said_ that to _him.”_
+
+_Fanny._ “But, unfortunately, ears are not confined to the noble.”
+
+_Zoe._ “Nor tongues to the discreet.”
+
+Both these remarks were addressed pointedly to Harrington.
+
+“Halloo!” said he, looking from one flaming girl to the other; “am I to
+be a shuttlecock, and your discreet tongues the battledoors? What is up?”
+
+“We don't speak,” said the frank Zoe; “that is up.”
+
+“Why, what is the row?”'
+
+“No matter” (stiffly).
+
+“No great matter, I'll be bound. 'Toll, toll the bell.' Here goes one
+more immortal friendship--quenched in eternal silence.”
+
+Both ladies bridled. Neither spoke.
+
+“And dead silence, as ladies understand it, consists in speaking _at_ one
+another instead of _to.”_
+
+No reply.
+
+“That is well-bred taciturnity.”
+
+No answer.
+
+“The dignified reserve that distinguishes an estrangement from a
+squabble.”
+
+No reply.
+
+“Well, I admire permanent sentiments, good or bad; constant resolves,
+etc. Your friendship has not proved immortal; so, now let us see how long
+you can hold spite--SIEVES!” Then he affected to start. “What is this? I
+spy a rational creature out on yonder balcony. I hasten to join him.
+'Birds of a feather, you know;” and with that he went out to his
+favorite, 'and never looked behind him.
+
+The young ladies, indignant at the contempt the big man had presumed to
+cast upon the constant soul of woman, turned two red faces and four
+sparkling eyes to each other, with the instinctive sympathy of the
+jointly injured; but remembering in time, turned sharply round again, and
+presented napes, and so sat sullen.
+
+
+By-and-by a chilling thought fell upon them both at the same moment of
+time. The men were good friends as usual, safe, by sex, from tiffs, and
+could do without them; and a dull day impended over the hostile fair.
+
+Thereupon the ingenious Fanny resolved to make a splash of some sort and
+disturb stagnation. She suddenly cried out, “La! and the man is gone
+away: so what is the use?” This remark she was careful to level at bare
+space.
+
+Zoe, addressing the same person--space, to wit--inquired of him if
+anybody in his parts knew to whom this young lady was addressing herself.
+
+“To a girl that is too sensible not to see the folly of quarreling about
+a man--_when he is gone,”_ said Fanny.
+
+“If it is me you mean,” said Zoe stiffly, _“really_ I am _surprised._ You
+forget we are at daggers drawn.”
+
+“No, I don't, dear; and parted forever.”
+
+Zoe smiled at that against her will.
+
+“Zoe!” (penitentially).
+
+“Frances!” (archly).
+
+“Come cuddle me quick!”
+
+Zoe was all round her neck in a moment, like a lace scarf, and there was
+violent kissing, with a tear or two.
+
+Then they put an arm round each other's waist, and went all about the
+premises intertwined like snakes; and Zoe gave Fanny her cameo brooch,
+the one with the pearls round it.
+
+
+The person to whom Vizard fled from the tongue of beauty was a delightful
+talker: he read two or three newspapers every day, and recollected the
+best things. Now, it is not everybody can remember a thousand
+disconnected facts and recall them apropos. He was various, fluent, and,
+above all, superficial; and such are your best conversers. They have
+something good and strictly ephemeral to say on everything, and don't
+know enough of anything to impale their hearers. In my youth there talked
+in Pall Mall a gentleman known as “Conversation Sharpe.” He eclipsed
+everybody. Even Macaulay paled. Sharpe talked all the blessed afternoon,
+and grave men listened, enchanted; and, of all he said, nothing stuck.
+Where be now your Sharpiana? The learned may be compared to mines. These
+desultory charmers are more like the ornamental cottage near Staines,
+forty or fifty rooms, and the whole structure one story high. The mine
+teems with solid wealth; but you must grope and trouble to come to it: it
+is easier and pleasanter to run about the cottage with a lot of rooms.
+all on the ground-floor.
+
+The mind and body both get into habits--sometimes apart, sometimes in
+conjunction. Nowadays we seat the body to work the intellect, even in its
+lower form of mechanical labor: it is your clod that toddles about
+laboring. The Peripatetics did not endure: their method was not suited to
+man's microcosm. Bodily movements fritter mental attention. We _sit_ at
+the feet of Gamaliel, or, as some call him, Tyndal; and we sit to Bacon
+and Adam Smith. But, when we are standing or walking, we love to take
+brains easy. If this delightful chatterbox had been taken down shorthand
+and printed, and Vizard had been set down to Severni Opuscula, ten
+volumes--and, mind you, Severne had talked all ten by this time--the
+Barfordshire squire and old Oxonian would have cried out for “more matter
+with less art,” and perhaps have even fled for relief to some shorter
+treatise--Bacon's “Essays,” Browne's “Religio Medici,” or Buckle's
+“Civilization.” But lounging in a balcony, and lazily breathing a cloud,
+he could have listened all day to his desultory, delightful friend,
+overflowing with little questions, little answers, little queries, little
+epigrams, little maxims _'a la Rochefoucauld,_ little histories, little
+anecdotes, little gossip, and little snapshots at every feather flying.
+
+“Quicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas, Gaudia, discursus,
+nostri farrago Severni.”
+
+But, alas! after an hour of touch-and-go, of superficiality and soft
+delight, the desultory charmer fell on a subject he had studied. So then
+he bored his companion for the first time in all the tour.
+
+But, to tell the honest truth, Mr. Severne had hitherto been pleasing his
+friend with a cold-blooded purpose. His preliminary gossip, that made the
+time fly so agreeably, was intended to oil the way to lubricate the
+passage of a premeditated pill. As soon as he had got Vizard into perfect
+good humor, he said, apropos of nothing that had passed, “By-the-by, old
+fellow, that five hundred pounds you promised to lend me!”
+
+Vizard was startled by this sudden turn of a conversation, hitherto
+agreeable.
+
+“Why, you have had three hundred and lost it,” said he. “Now, take my
+advice, and don't lose any more.”
+
+“I don't mean to. But I am determined to win back the three hundred, and
+a great deal more, before I leave this. I have discovered a system, an
+infallible one.”
+
+“I am sorry to hear it,” said Harrington, gravely. “That is the second
+step on the road to ruin; the gambler with a system is the confirmed
+maniac.”
+
+“What! because _other_ systems have been tried, and proved to be false?
+Mine is untried, and it is mere prejudice to condemn it unheard.”
+
+“Propound it, then,” said Vizard. “Only please observe the bank has got
+its system; you forget that: and the bank's system is to take a positive
+advantage, which must win in the long run; therefore, all counter-systems
+must lose in the long run.”
+
+“But the bank is tied to a long run, the individual player is not.”
+
+This reply checked Vizard for a moment and the other followed up his
+advantage. “Now, Vizard, be reasonable. What would the trifling advantage
+the bank derives from an incident, which occurs only once in twenty-eight
+deals, avail against a player who could foresee at any given deal whether
+the card that was going to come up the nearest thirty would be on the red
+or black?”
+
+“No avail at all. God Almighty could break the bank every afternoon.
+_Apre's?_ as we say in France. Do you pretend to omniscience?”
+
+“Not exactly.”
+
+“Well, but prescience of isolated events, preceded by no _indicia,_
+belongs only to omniscience. Did they not teach you that much at Oxford?”
+
+“They taught me very little at Oxford.”
+
+“Fault of the place, eh? You taught _them_ something, though; and the
+present conversation reminds me of it. In your second term, when every
+other man is still quizzed and kept down as a freshman, you, were already
+a leader; a chief of misrule. You founded a whist-club in Trinity, the
+primmest college of all. The Dons rooted you out in college; but you did
+not succumb; you fulfilled the saying of Sydney Smith, that 'Cribbage
+should be played in caverns, and sixpenny-whist in the howling
+wilderness.' Ha! ha! how well I remember riding across Bullington Green
+one fine afternoon, and finding four Oxford hacks haltered in a row, and
+the four undergraduates that had hired them on long tick, sitting
+cross-legged under the hedge like Turks or tailors, round a rude table
+with the legs sawed down to stumps. You had two packs, and a portable
+inkstand, and were so hard at it that I put my mare's nose right over the
+quartet before you saw either her or me. That hedge was like a drift of
+odoriferous snow the hawthorn bloom, and primroses sparkled on its bank
+like topazes. The birds chirruped, the sky smiled, the sun burned
+perfumes; and there sat my lord and his fellow-maniacs,
+snick-snack--pit-pat--cutting, dealing, playing, revoking, scoring, and
+exchanging I. O. U. 's not worth the paper.”
+
+“All true, but the revoking,” said Severne, merrily. “Monster! by the
+memory of those youthful days, I demand a fair hearing.” Then, gravely,
+“Hang it all, Vizard, I am not a fellow that is always intruding his
+affairs and his theories upon other men.”
+
+“No, no, no,” said Vizard, hastily, and half apologetically; “go on.”
+
+“Well, then, of course I don't pretend to foreknowledge; but I do to
+experience, and you know experience teaches the wise.”
+
+“Not to fling five hundred after three. There--I beg pardon. Proceed,
+instructor of youth.”
+
+“Do listen, then: experience teaches us that luck has its laws; and I
+build my system on one of them. If two opposite accidents are sure to
+happen equally often in a total of fifty times, people, who have not
+observed, expect them to happen turn about, and bet accordingly. But they
+don't happen turn about; they make short runs, and sometimes long ones.
+They positively avoid alternation. Have you not observed this at _trente
+et quarante?”_
+
+“No.”
+
+“Then you have not watched the cards.”
+
+“Not much. The faces of the gamblers were always my study. They are
+instructive.”
+
+“Well, then, I'll give you an example outside--for the principle runs
+through all equal chances--take the university boat-race: you have kept
+your eye on that?”
+
+“Rather. Never missed one yet. Come all the way from Barfordshire to see
+it.”
+
+“Well, there's an example.”
+
+“Of chance? No, thank you. That goes by strength, skill, wind, endurance,
+chaste living, self-denial, and judicious training. Every winning boat is
+manned by virtues.” His eye flashed, and he was as earnest all in a
+moment as he had been listless. A continental cynic had dubbed this
+insular cynic mad.
+
+The professor of chances smiled superior. “Those things decide each
+individual race, and the best men win, because it happens to be the only
+race that is never sold. But go further back, and you find it is chance.
+It is pure chance that sends the best men up to Cambridge two or three
+years running, and then to Oxford. With this key, take the facts my
+system rests on. There are two. The first is that in thirty and odd races
+and matches, the university luck has come out equal on the river and at
+Lord's: the second is, the luck has seldom alternated. I don't say,
+never. But look at the list of events; it is published every March. You
+may see there the great truth that even chances shun direct alternation.
+In this, properly worked, lies a fortune at Homburg, where the play is
+square. Red gains once; you back red next time, and stop. You are on
+black, and win; you double. This is the game, if you have only a few
+pounds. But with five hundred pounds you can double more courageously,
+and work the short run hard; and that is how losses are averted and gains
+secured. Once at Wiesbaden I caught a croupier, out on a holiday. It was
+Good-Friday, you know. I gave him a stunning dinner. He was close as wax,
+at first--that might be the salt fish; but after the _rognons 'a la
+brochette,_ and a bottle of champagne, he let out. I remember one thing
+he said: Monsieur, ce que fait la fortune de la banque ce n'est pas le
+petit avantage qu'elle tire du refait--quoique cela y est pour
+quelquechose--c'est la te'me'rite' de ceux qui perdent, et la timidite'
+de ceux qui gagnent.'”
+
+“And,” says Vizard, “there is a French proverb founded on _experience:_
+
+“C'est encore rouge qui perd, Et encore noir. Mais toujours blanc qui
+gagne.'”
+
+Severne, for the first time, looked angry and mortified; he turned his
+back and was silent. Vizard looked at him uneasily, hesitated a moment,
+then flung the remainder of his cigar away and seemed to rouse himself
+body and soul. He squared his shoulders, as if he were going to box the
+Demon of play for his friend, and he let out good sense right and left,
+and, indeed, was almost betrayed into eloquence. “What!” he cried, “you,
+who are so bright and keen and knowing in everything else, are you really
+so blinded by egotism and credulity as to believe that you can invent any
+method of betting at _rouge et noir_ that has not been tried before you
+were born? Do you remember the first word in La Bruy'ere's famous work?”
+
+“No,” said Ned, sulkily. “Read nothing but newspapers.”
+
+“Good lad. Saves a deal of trouble. Well, he begins 'Tout est
+dit'--'everything has been said;' and I say that, in your business, 'Tout
+est fait'--'everything has been done.' Every move has been tried before
+you existed, and the result of all is that to bet against the bank,
+wildly or systematically, is to gamble against a rock. _Si monumenta
+quoeris, circumspice._ Use your eyes, man. Look at the Kursaal, its
+luxuries, its gardens, its gilding, its attractions, all of them cheap,
+except the one that pays for all; all these delights, and the rents, and
+the croupiers, and the servants, and the income and liveries of an
+unprincipled prince, who would otherwise be a poor but honest gentleman
+with one _bonne,_ instead of thirty blazing lackeys, all come from the
+gains of the bank, which are the losses of the players, especially of
+those that have got a system.”
+
+Severne shot in, “A bank was broken last week.”
+
+“Was it? Then all it lost has returned to it, or will return to it
+to-night; for gamblers know no day of rest.”
+
+“Oh, yes, they do. It is shut on Good-Friday.”
+
+“You surprise me. Only three hundred and sixty-four days in the year!
+Brainless avarice is more reasonable than I thought. Severne, yours is a
+very serious case. You have reduced your income, that is clear; for an
+English gentleman does not stay years and years abroad unless he has out
+run the constable; and I feel sure gambling has done it. You had the
+fever from a boy. Bullington Green! 'As the twig's bent the tree's
+inclined.' Come, come, make a stand. We are friends. Let us help one
+another against our besetting foibles. Let us practice antique wisdom;
+let us 'know ourselves,' and leave Homburg to-morrow, instead of
+Tuesday.”
+
+Severne looked sullen, but said nothing; then Vizard gave him too hastily
+credit for some of that sterling friendship, bordering on love, which
+warmed his own faithful breast: under this delusion he made an
+extraordinary effort; he used an argument which, with himself, would have
+been irresistible. “Look here,” said he, “I'll--won't you have a
+cigar?--there; now I'll tell you something: I have a mania as bad as
+yours; only mine is intermittent, thank Heaven! I'm told a million women
+are as good, or better, than a million men. It may be so. But when I, an
+individual, stake my heart on lovely woman, she always turns out
+unworthy. With me, the sex avoids alternation. Therefore I rail on it
+wholesale. It is not philosophical; but I don't do it to instruct
+mankind; it is to soothe my spleen. Well--would you believe it?--once in
+every three years, in spite of my experience, I am always bitten again.
+After my lucid interval has expired, I fall in with some woman, who seems
+not like the rest, but an angel. Then I, though I'm averse to the sex,
+fall an easy, an immediate victim to the individual.”
+
+“Love at first sight.”
+
+“Not a bit of it. If she is as beautiful as an angel, with the voice of a
+peacock or a guinea-hen--and, luckily for me, that is a frequent
+arrangement--she is no more to me than the fire-shovel. If she has a
+sweet voice and pale eyes, I'm safe. Indeed, I am safe against Juno,
+Venus, and Minerva for two years and several months after the last; but
+when two events coincide, when my time is up, and the lovely, melodious
+female comes, then I am lost. Before I have seen her and heard her five
+minutes, I know my fate, and I never resist it. I never can; that is a
+curious part of the mania. Then commences a little drama, all the acts of
+which are stale copies; yet each time they take me by surprise, as if
+they were new. In spite of past experience, I begin all confidence and
+trust: by-and-by come the subtle but well-known signs of deceit; so doubt
+is forced on me; and then I am all suspicion, and so darkly vigilant that
+soon all is certainty; for 'les fourberies des femmes' are diabolically
+subtle, but monotonous. They seem to vary only on the surface. One looks
+too gentle and sweet to give any creature pain; I cherish her like a
+tender plant; she deceives me for the coarsest fellow she can find.
+Another comes the frank and candid dodge; she is so off-handed she shows
+me it is not worth her while to betray. She deceives me, like the other,
+and with as little discrimination. The next has a face of beaming
+innocence, and a limpid eye that looks like transparent candor; she gazes
+long and calmly in my face, as if her eye loved to dwell on me, gazes
+with the eye of a gazelle or a young hare, and the baby lips below outlie
+the hoariest male fox in the Old Jewry. But, to complete the delusion,
+all my sweethearts and wives are romantic and poetical skin-deep--or they
+would not attract me--and all turn out vulgar to the core. By their
+lovers alone can you ever know them. By the men they can't love, and the
+men they do love, you find these creatures that imitate sentiment so
+divinely are hard, prosaic, vulgar little things, thinly gilt and double
+varnished.”
+
+“They are much better than we are; but you don't know how to take them,”
+ said Severne, with the calm superiority of success.
+
+“No,” replied Vizard, dryly, “curse me if I do. Well, I did hope I had
+outgrown my mania, as I have done the toothache; for this time I had
+passed the fatal period, the three years. It is nearly four years now
+since I went through the established process--as fixed beforehand as the
+dyer's or the cotton-weaver's--adored her, trusted her blindly, suspected
+her, watched her, detected her, left her. By-the-by, she was my wife, the
+last; but that made no difference; she was neither better nor worse than
+the rest, and her methods and idiotic motives of deceit identical. Well,
+Ned, I was mistaken. Yesterday night I met my Fate once more.”
+
+“Where? In Frankfort?”
+
+“No: at Homburg; at the opera. You must give me your word not to tell a
+soul.”
+
+“I pledge you my word of honor.”
+
+“Well, the lady who sung the part of Siebel.”
+
+“Siebel?” muttered Severne.
+
+“Yes,” said Vizard, dejectedly.
+
+Severne fixed his eyes on his friend with a strange expression of
+confusion and curiosity, as if he could not take it all in. But he said
+nothing, only looked very hard all the time.
+
+Vizard burst out, “'O miserae hominum mentes, O pectora caeca!' There I
+sat, in the stalls, a happy man comparatively, because my heart, though
+full of scars, was at peace, and my reason, after periodical abdications,
+had resumed its throne, for good; so I, weak mortal, fancied. Siebel
+appeared; tall, easy, dignified, and walking like a wave; modest, fair,
+noble, great, dreamy, and, above all, divinely sad; the soul of womanhood
+and music poured from her honey lips; she conquered all my senses: I felt
+something like a bolt of ice run down my back. I ought to have jumped up
+and fled the theater. I wish I had. But I never do. I am incurable. The
+charm deepened; and when she had sung 'Le Parlate d'Amor' as no mortal
+ever sung and looked it, she left the stage and carried my heart and soul
+away with her. What chance had I? Here shone all the beauties that adorn
+the body, all the virtues and graces that embellish the soul; they were
+wedded to poetry and ravishing music, and gave and took enchantment. I
+saw my paragon glide away, like a goddess, past the scenery, and I did
+not see her meet her lover at the next step--a fellow with a wash-leather
+face, greasy locks in a sausage roll, and his hair shaved off his
+forehead--and snatch a pot of porter from his hands, and drain it to the
+dregs, and say, 'It is all right, Harry: _that_ fetched 'em.' But I know,
+by experience, she did; so _sauve qui peut._ Dear friend and
+fellow-lunatic, for my sake and yours, leave Frankfort with me
+to-morrow.”
+
+Severne hung his head, and thought hard. Here was a new and wonderful
+turn. He felt all manner of strange things--a pang of jealousy, for one.
+He felt that, on every account, it would be wise to go, and, indeed,
+dangerous to stay. But a mania is a mania, and so he could not. “Look
+here, old fellow,” he said, “if the opera were on to-morrow, I would
+leave my three hundred behind me and sacrifice myself to you, sooner than
+expose you to the fascinations of so captivating a woman as Ina
+Klosking.”
+
+“Ina Klosking? Is that her name? How do _you_ know?”
+
+“I--I--fancy I heard so.”
+
+“Why, she was not announced. Ina Klosking! It is a sweet name;” and he
+sighed.
+
+“But you are quite safe from her for one day,” continued Severne, “so you
+must be reasonable. I will go with you, Tuesday, as early as you like;
+but do be a good fellow, and let me have the five hundred, to try my
+system with to-morrow.”
+
+Vizard looked sad, and made no reply.
+
+Severne got impatient. “Why, what is it to a rich fellow like you? If I
+had twelve thousand acres in a ring fence, no friend would ask me twice
+for such a trifling sum.”
+
+Vizard, for the first time, wore a supercilious smile at being so
+misunderstood, and did not deign a reply.
+
+Severne went on mistaking his man: “I can give you bills for the money,
+and for the three hundred you did lend me.”
+
+Vizard did not receive this as expected. “Bills?” said he, gravely.
+“What, do you do that sort of thing as well?”
+
+“Why not, pray? So long as I'm the holder, not the drawer, nor the
+acceptor. Besides, they are not accommodation bills, but good commercial
+paper.”
+
+“You are a merchant, then; are you?”
+
+“Yes; in a small way. If you will allow me, I will explain.”
+
+He did so; and, to save comments, yet enable the reader to appreciate his
+explanation, the true part of it is printed in italics, the mendacious
+portion in ordinary type.
+
+_“My estate in Huntingdonshire is not very large; and there are mortgages
+on it,_ for the benefit of other members of my family. I was always
+desirous to pay off these mortgages; and took the best advice I could. _I
+have got an uncle:_ he lives in the city. He put me on to a good thing. I
+bought a share in a trading vessel; she makes short trips, and turns her
+cargo often. She will take out paper to America, and bring back raw
+cotton: she will land that at Liverpool, and ship English hardware and
+cotton fabrics for the Mediterranean and Greece, and bring back currants
+from Zante and lemons from Portugal. She goes for the nimble shilling.
+Well, you know ships wear out: _and if you varnish them rotten, and
+insure them high, and they go to glory, Mr. Plimsoll is down on you like
+a hammer._ So, when she had paid my purchase-money three times over, some
+fellows in the city made an offer for _The Rover_--that was her name. My
+share came to twelve hundred, and my uncle said I was to take it. _Now I
+always feel bound by what he decides._ They gave me four bills, for four
+hundred, three hundred, three hundred, and two hundred. The four hundred
+was paid at maturity. _The others are not due yet._ I have only to send
+them to London, and I can get the money back by Thursday: but you want me
+to start on Tuesday.”
+
+“That is enough,” said Vizard, wearily, “I will be your banker, and--”
+
+“You are a good fellow!” said Severne warmly.
+
+“No, no; I am a weak fellow, and an injudicious one. But it is the old
+story: when a friend asks you what he thinks a favor, the right thing is
+to grant it at once. He doesn't want your advice; he wants the one thing
+he asks for. There, get me the bills, and I'll draw a check on Muller:
+Herries advised him by Saturday's post; so we can draw on Monday.”
+
+“All right, old man,” said Severne, and went away briskly for the bills.
+
+When he got from the balcony into the room, his steps flagged a little;
+it struck him that ink takes time to dry, and more time to darken.
+
+As _The Rover,_ with her nimble cargoes, was first cousin to _The Flying
+Dutchman,_ with his crew of ghosts, so the bills received by Severne, as
+purchase-money for his ship, necessarily partook of that ship's aerial
+character. Indeed they existed, as the schoolmen used to say, in _posse,_
+but not in _esse._ To be less pedantic and more exact, they existed as
+slips of blank paper, with a Government stamp. To give them a mercantile
+character for a time--viz., until presented for payment--they must be
+drawn by an imaginary ship-owner or a visionary merchant, and indorsed by
+at least one shadow, and a man of straw.
+
+The man of straw sat down to inscribe self and shadows, and became a
+dishonest writer of fiction; for the art he now commenced appears to fall
+short of forgery proper, but to be still more distinct from justifiable
+fiction. The ingenious Mr. De Foe's certificate by an aeial justice of
+the peace to the truth of his ghostly narrative comes nearest to it, in
+my poor reading.
+
+Qualms he had, but not deep. If the bills were drawn by Imagination,
+accepted by Fancy, and indorsed by Impudence, what did it matter to Ned
+Straw, since his system would enable him to redeem them at maturity? His
+only real concern was to conceal their recent origin. So he wrote them
+with a broad-nibbed pen, that they might be the blacker, and set them to
+dry in the sun.
+
+He then proceeded to a change of toilet.
+
+While thus employed, there was a sharp tap at his door and Vizard's voice
+outside. Severne started with terror, snapped up the three bills with the
+dexterity of a conjurer--the handle turned--he shoved them into a
+drawer--Vizard came in--he shut the drawer, and panted.
+
+Vizard had followed the custom of Oxonians among themselves, which is to
+knock, and then come in, unless forbidden.
+
+“Come,” said he, cheerfully, “those bills. I'm in a hurry to cash them
+now, and end the only difference we have ever had, old fellow.”
+
+The blood left Severne's cheek and lips for a moment, and he thought
+swiftly and hard. The blood returned, along with his ready wit. “How good
+you are!” said he; “but no. It is Sunday.”
+
+“Sunday!” ejaculated Vizard. “What is that to you, a fellow who has been
+years abroad?”
+
+“I can't help it,” said Severne, apologetically. “I am
+superstitious--don't like to do business on a Sunday. I would not even
+shunt at the tables on a Sunday--I don't think.”
+
+“Ah, you are not quite sure of that. There _is_ a limit to your
+superstition! Well, will you listen to a story on a Sunday?”
+
+“Rather!”
+
+“Then, once on a time there was a Scotch farmer who had a bonny cow; and
+another farmer coveted her honestly. One Sunday they went home together
+from kirk and there was the cow grazing. Farmer Two stopped, eyed her,
+and said to Farmer One, 'Gien it were Monday, as it is the Sabba' day,
+what would ye tak' for your coow?' The other said the price would be nine
+pounds, _if it were Monday._ And so they kept the Sabbath; and the cow
+changed hands, though, to the naked eye, she grazed on _in situ._ Our
+negotiation is just as complete. So what does it matter whether the
+actual exchange of bills and cash takes place to-day or to-morrow?”
+
+“Do you really mean to say it does not matter to you?” asked Severne.
+
+“Not one straw.”
+
+“Then, as it does not matter to you, and does to me, give me my foolish
+way, like a dear good fellow.”
+
+“Now, that is smart,” said Vizard--“very smart;” then, with a look of
+parental admiration, “he gets his own way in everything. He _will_ have
+your money--he _won't_ have your money. I wonder whether he _will_
+consent to walk those girls out, and disburden me of their too profitable
+discourse.”
+
+“That I will, with pleasure.”
+
+“Well, they are at luncheon--with their bonnets on.”
+
+“I will join them in five minutes.”
+
+
+After luncheon, Miss Vizard, Miss Dover, and Mr. Severne started for a
+stroll.
+
+Miss Maitland suggested that Vizard should accompany them.
+
+“Couldn't think of deserting you,” said he dryly.
+
+The young ladies giggled, because these two rarely opened their mouths to
+agree, one being a professed woman-hater, and the other a man-hater, in
+words.
+
+Says Misander, in a sourish way, “Since you value my conversation so,
+perhaps you will be good enough not to smoke for the next ten minutes.”
+
+Misogyn consented, but sighed. That sigh went unpitied, and the lady
+wasted no time.
+
+“Do you see what is going on between your sister and that young man?”
+
+“Yes; a little flirtation.”
+
+“A great deal more than that. I caught them, in this very room, making
+love.”
+
+“You alarm me,” said Vizard, with marked tranquillity.
+
+“I saw him--kiss--her--hand.”
+
+“You relieve me,” said Vizard, as calmly as he had been alarmed. “There's
+no harm in that. I've kissed the queen's hand, and the nation did not
+rise upon me. However, I object to it. The superior sex should not play
+the spaniel. I will tell him to drop that. But, permit me to say, all
+this is in your department, not mine.
+
+“But what can I do against three of them, unless you support me? There
+you have let them go out together.”
+
+“Together with Fanny Dover, you mean?”
+
+“Yes; and if Fanny had any designs on him, Zoe would be safe--”
+
+“And poor Ned torn in two.”
+
+“But Fanny, I am grieved to say, seems inclined to assist this young man
+with Zoe; that is, because it does not matter to her. She has other
+views--serious ones.”
+
+“Serious! What? A nunnery? Then I pity my lady abbess.”
+
+“Her views are plain enough to anybody but you.”
+
+“Are they? Then make me as wise as my neighbors.”
+
+“Well, then, she means to marry _you.”_
+
+“What! Oh, come!--that is too good a joke!”
+
+“It is sober earnest. Ask Zoe--ask your friend, Mr. Severne--ask the
+chambermaids--ask any creature with an eye in its head. Oh, the blindness
+of you men!”
+
+The Misogyn was struck dumb. When he recovered, it was to repine at the
+lot of man.
+
+“Even my own familiar cousin--once removed--in whom I trusted! I depute
+you to inform her that I think her _adorable,_ and that matrimony is no
+longer a habit of mine. Set her on to poor Severne; he is a ladies' man,
+and 'the more the merrier' is his creed.”
+
+“Such a girl as Fanny is not to be diverted from a purpose of that sort.
+Besides, she has too much sense to plunge into the Severne
+and--pauperism! She is bent on a rich husband, not a needy adventurer.”
+
+“Madam, in my friend's name, I thank you.”
+
+“You are very welcome, sir--it is only the truth.” Then, with a swift
+return to her original topic: “No; I know perfectly well what Fanny Dover
+will do this afternoon. She sketches.”
+
+“It is too true,” said Vizard dolefully: “showed me a ship in full sail,
+and I praised it _in my way._ I said, 'That rock is rather well done.'”
+
+“Well, she will be seized with a desire to sketch. She will sit down
+apart, and say, 'Please don't watch me--it makes me nervous.' The other
+two will take the hint and make love a good way off; and Zoe will go
+greater lengths, with another woman in sight--but only just in sight, and
+slyly encouraging her--than if she were quite alone with her _mauvais
+sujet.”_
+
+Vizard was pleased with the old lady. “This is sagacious,” said he, “and
+shows an eye for detail. I recognize in your picture the foxy sex. But,
+at this moment, who can foretell which way the wind will blow? You are
+not aware, perhaps, that Zoe and Fanny have had a quarrel. They don't
+speak. Now, in women, you know, vices are controlled by vices--see Pope.
+The conspiracy you dread will be averted by the other faults of their
+character, their jealousy and their petulant tempers. Take my word for
+it, they are sparring at this moment; and that poor, silly Severne
+meditating and moderating, and getting scratched on both sides for trying
+to be just.”
+
+At this moment the door opened, and Fanny Dover glittered on the
+threshold in Cambridge blue.
+
+“There,” said Vizard; “did not I tell you? They are come home.”
+
+“Only me,” said Fanny gayly.
+
+“Where are the others?” inquired Miss Maitland sharply.
+
+“Not far off--only by the riverside.”
+
+“And you left those two alone!”
+
+“Now, don't be cross, aunt,” cried Fanny, and limped up to her. “These
+new boots are so tight that I really couldn't bear them any longer. I
+believe I shall be lame, as it is.”
+
+“You ought to be ashamed of yourself. What will the people say?”
+
+“La! aunt, it is abroad. One does what one likes--out of England.”
+
+“Here's a code of morals!” said Vizard, who must have his slap.
+
+“Nonsense,” said Miss Maitland: “she will be sure to meet somebody. All
+England is on the Rhine at this time of the year; and, whether or no, is
+it for you to expose that child to familiarity with a person nobody
+knows, nor his family either? You are twenty-five years old; you know the
+world; you have as poor an opinion of the man as I have, or you would
+have set your own cap at him--you know you would--and you have let out
+things to me when you were off your guard. Fanny Dover, you are behaving
+wickedly; you are a false friend to that poor girl.”
+
+Upon this, lo! the pert Fanny, hitherto so ready with her answers, began
+to cry bitterly. The words really pricked her conscience, and to be
+scolded is one thing, to be severely and solemnly reproached is another;
+and before a man!
+
+The official woman-hater was melted in a moment by the saucy girl's
+tears. “There--there,” said he, kindly, “have a little mercy. Hang it
+all! Don't make a mountain of a mole-hill.”
+
+The official man-hater never moved a muscle. “It is no use her crying to
+_me:_ she must give me a _proof_ she is sorry. Fanny, if you are a
+respectable girl, and have any idea of being my heir, go you this moment
+and bring them home.”
+
+“Yes, aunt,” said Fanny, eagerly; and went off with wonderful alacrity.
+
+It was a very long apartment, full forty feet; and while Fanny bustled
+down it, Miss Maitland extended a skinny finger, like one of Macbeth's
+witches, and directed Vizard's eye to the receding figure so pointedly
+that he put up his spyglass the better to see the phenomenon.
+
+As Fanny skipped out and closed the door, Miss Maitland turned to Vizard,
+with lean finger still pointing after Fanny, and uttered a monosyllable:
+
+“LAME!”
+
+Vizard burst out laughing. “La fourbe!” said he. “Miss Maitland, accept
+my compliments; you possess the key to a sex no fellow can unlock. And,
+now I have found an interpreter, I begin to be interested in this little
+comedy. The first act is just over. There will be half an hour's wait
+till the simulatrix of infirmity comes running back with the pilgrims of
+the Rhine. Are they 'the pilgrims of the Rhine' or 'the pilgrims of
+Love?' Time will show. Play to recommence with a verbal encounter; you
+will be one against three; for all that, I don't envy the greater
+number.”
+
+“Three to one? No. Surely you will be on the right side for once.
+
+“Well, you see, I am the audience. We can't be all _dramatis personae,_
+and no spectator. During the wait, I wonder whether the audience, having
+nothing better to do, may be permitted to smoke a cigar.”
+
+“So long a lucid interval is irksome, of course. Well, the balcony is
+your smoking-room. You will see them coming; please tap at my door the
+moment you do.”
+
+Half an hour elapsed, an hour, and the personages required to continue
+the comedy did not return.
+
+Vizard, having nothing better to do, fell to thinking of Ina Klosking,
+and that was not good for him. Solitude and _ennui_ fed his mania, and at
+last it took the form of action. He rang, and ordered up his man Harris,
+a close, discreet personage, and directed him to go over to Homburg, and
+bring back all the information he could about the new singer; her address
+in Homburg, married or single, prude or coquette. Should information be
+withheld, Harris was to fee the porter at the opera-house, the waiter at
+her hotel, and all the human commodities that knew anything about her.
+Having dismissed Harris, he lighted his seventh cigar, and said to
+himself, “It is all Ned Severne's fault. I wanted to leave for England
+to-day.”
+
+The day had been overcast for some time and now a few big drops fell, by
+way of warning. Then it turned cool: then came a light drizzling rain,
+and, in the middle of this, Fanny Dover appeared, almost flying home.
+
+Vizard went and tapped at Miss Maitland's door. She came out.
+
+“Here's Miss Dover coming, but she is alone.”
+
+The next moment Fanny bounced into the room, and started a little at the
+picture of the pair ready to receive her. She did not wait to be taken to
+task, but proceeded to avert censure by volubility and self-praise.
+“Aunt, I went down to the river, where I left them, and looked all along
+it, and they were not in sight. Then I went to the cathedral, because
+that seemed the next likeliest place. Oh, I have had such a race!”
+
+“Why did you come back before you had found them?”
+
+“Aunt, it was going to rain; and it is raining now, hard.”
+
+_“She_ does not mind that.”
+
+“Zoe? Oh, she has got nothing on!”
+
+“Bless me!” cried Vizard. “Godiva _rediviva.”_
+
+“Now, Harrington, don't! Of course, I mean nothing to spoil; only her
+purple alpaca, and that is two years old. But my blue silk, I can't
+afford to ruin _it._ Nobody would give me another, _I_ know.”
+
+“What a heartless world!” said Vizard dryly.
+
+“It is past a jest, the whole thing,” objected Miss Maitland; “and, now
+we are together, please tell me, if you can, either of you, who is this
+man? What are his means? I know 'The Peerage,' 'The Baronetage,' and 'The
+Landed Gentry,' but not Severne. That is a river, not a family.”
+
+“Oh,” said Vizard, “family names taken from rivers are never _parvenues._
+But we can't all be down in Burke. Ned is of a good stock, the old
+English yeoman, the country's pride.”
+
+“Yeoman!” said the Maitland, with sovereign contempt.
+
+Vizard resisted. “Is this the place to sneer at an English yeoman, where
+you see an unprincely prince living by a gambling-table? What says the
+old stave?
+
+“'A German prince, a marquis of France, And a laird o' the North
+Countrie; A yeoman o' Kent, with his yearly rent, Would ding 'em out, all
+three.”'
+
+“Then,” said Misander, with a good deal of malicious, intent, “you are
+quite sure your yeoman is not a--_pauper--_an _adventurer--“_
+
+“Positive.”
+
+“And a _gambler.”_
+
+“No; I am not at all sure of that. But nobody is all-wise. I am not, for
+one. He is a fine fellow; as good as gold; as true as steel. Always
+polite, always genial; and never speaks ill of any of you behind your
+backs.”
+
+Miss Maitland bridled at that. “What I have said is not out of dislike to
+the young man. I am warning a brother to take a little more care of his
+sister, that is all. However, after your sneer, I shall say no more
+behind Mr. Severne's back, but to his face--that is, if we ever see his
+face again, or Zoe's either.”
+
+“Oh, aunt!” said Fanny, reproachfully. “It is only the rain. La! poor
+things, they will be wet to the skin. Just see how it is pouring!”
+
+“That it is: and let me tell you there is nothing so dangerous as a
+_te'te-'a-te'te_ in the rain.”
+
+“A thunder-storm is worse, aunt,” said Fanny, eagerly; “because then she
+is frightened to death, and clings to him--_if he is nice.”_
+
+Having galloped into this revelation, through speaking first and thinking
+afterward, Fanny pulled up short the moment the words were out, and
+turned red, and looked askant, under her pale lashes at Vizard. Observing
+several twinkles in his eyes, she got up hastily and said she really must
+go and dry her gown.
+
+“Yes,” said Miss Maitland; “come into my room, dear.”
+
+Fanny complied, with rather a rueful face, not doubting that the public
+“dear” was to get it rather hot in private.
+
+Her uneasiness was not lessened when the old maid said to her, grimly,
+“Now, sit you down there, and never mind your dress.”
+
+However, it came rather mildly, after all. “Fanny, you are not a bad
+girl, and you have shown you were sorry; so I am not going to be hard on
+you: only you must be a good girl now, and help me to undo the mischief,
+and then I will forgive you.”
+
+“Aunt,” said Fanny, piteously, “I am older than she is, and I know I have
+done rather wrong, and I won't do it any more; but pray, pray, don't ask
+me to be unkind to her to-day; it is brooch-day.”
+
+Miss Maitland only stared at this obscure announcement: so Fanny had to
+explain that Zoe and she had tiffed, and made it up, and Zoe had given
+her a brooch. Hereupon she went for it, and both ladies forgot the topic
+they were on, and every other, to examine the brooch.
+
+“Aunt,” says Fanny, handling the brooch, and eyeing it, “you were a poor
+girl, like me, before grandpapa left you the money, and you know it is
+just as well to have a tiff now and then with a rich one, because, when
+you kiss and make it up, you always get some reconciliation-thing or
+other.”
+
+Miss Maitland dived into the past and nodded approval.
+
+Thus encouraged, Fanny proceeded to more modern rules. She let Miss
+Maitland know it was always understood at her school that on these
+occasions of tiff, reconciliation, and present, the girl who received the
+present was to side in everything with the girl who gave it, for that one
+day. “That is the real reason I put on my tight boots--to earn my brooch.
+Isn't it a duck?”
+
+_“Are_ they tight, then?”
+
+“Awfully. See--new on to-day.”
+
+“But you could shake off your lameness in a moment.”
+
+“La, aunt, you know one can fight _with_ that sort of thing, or fight
+_against_ it. It is like colds, and headaches, and fevers, and all that.
+You are in bed, too ill to see anybody you don't much care for. Night
+comes, and then you jump up and dress, and go to a ball, and leave your
+cold and your fever behind you, because the ball won't wait till you are
+well, and the bores will. So don't ask me to be unkind to Zoe,
+brooch-day,” said Fanny, skipping back to her first position with
+singular pertinacity.
+
+“Now, Fanny,” said Miss Maitland, “who wants you to be unkind to her? But
+you must and shall promise me not to lend her any more downright
+encouragement, and to watch the man well.”
+
+“I promise that faithfully,” said Fanny--an adroit concession, since she
+had been watching him like a cat a mouse for many days.
+
+“Then you are a good girl; and, to reward you, I will tell you in
+confidence all the strange stories I have discovered today.”
+
+“Oh, do, aunt!” cried Fanny; and now her eyes began to sparkle with
+curiosity.
+
+Miss Maitland then bid her observe that the bedroom window was not a
+French casement, but a double-sash window--closed at present because of
+the rain; but it had been wide open at the top all the time.
+
+“Those two were smoking, and talking secrets; and, child,” said the old
+lady, very impressively, “if you--want--to--know--what gentlemen really
+are, you must be out of sight, and listen to them, smoking. When I was a
+girl, the gentlemen came out in their true colors over their wine. Now
+they are as close as wax, drinking; and even when they are tipsy they
+keep their secrets. But once let them get by themselves and smoke, the
+very air is soon filled with scandalous secrets none of the ladies in the
+house ever dreamed of. Their real characters, their true histories, and
+their genuine sentiments, are locked up like that genius in 'The Arabian
+Nights,' and come out in smoke as he did.” The old lady chuckled at her
+own wit, and the young one laughed to humor her. “Well, my dear, those
+two smoked, and revealed themselves--their real selves; and I listened
+and heard every word on the top of those drawers.”
+
+Fanny looked at the drawers. They were high.
+
+“La, aunt! how ever did you get up there?”
+
+“By a chair.”
+
+“Oh, fancy you perched up there, listening, at your age!”
+
+“You need not keep throwing my age in my teeth. I am not so very old.
+Only I don't paint and whiten and wear false hair. There are plenty of
+coquettes about, ever so much older than I am. I have a great mind not to
+tell you; and then much you will ever know about either of these men!”
+
+“Oh, aunt, don't be cruel! I am dying to hear it.”
+
+As aunt was equally dying to tell it, she passed over the skit upon her
+age, though she did not forget nor forgive it; and repeated the whole
+conversation of Vizard and Severne with rare fidelity; but as I abhor
+what the evangelist calls “battology,” and Shakespeare “damnable
+iteration,” I must draw upon the intelligence of the reader (if any), and
+he must be pleased to imagine the whole dialogue of those two unguarded
+smokers repeated to Fanny, and interrupted, commented on at every salient
+point, scrutinized, sifted, dissected, and taken to pieces by two keen
+women, sharp by nature, and sharper now by collision of their heads. No
+candor, no tolerance, no allowance for human weakness, blunted the
+scalpel in their dexterous hands.
+
+Oh, Gossip! delight of ordinary souls, and more delightful still when you
+furnish food for detraction!
+
+To Fanny, in particular, it was exciting, ravishing, and the time flew by
+so unheeded that presently there came a sharp knock and an impatient
+voice cried, “Chatter! chatter! chatter! How long are we to be kept
+waiting for dinner, all of us?”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+AT the very commencement of the confabulation, so barbarously interrupted
+before it had lasted two hours and a half, the Misogyn rang the bell, and
+asked for Rosa, Zoe's maid.
+
+She came, and he ordered her to have up a basket of wood, and light a
+roaring fire in her mistress's room, and put out garments to air. He also
+inquired the number of Zoe's bedroom. The girl said it was “No. 74.”
+
+The Misogyn waited half an hour, and then visited “No. 74.” He found the
+fire burned down to one log, and some things airing at the fire, as
+domestics air their employers' things, but not their own, you may be
+sure. There was a chemise carefully folded into the smallest possible
+compass, and doubled over a horse at a good distance from the cold fire.
+There were other garments and supplementaries, all treated in the same
+way.
+
+The Misogyn looked, and remarked as follows, “Idiots! at everything but
+taking in the men.”
+
+Having relieved his spleen with this courteous and comprehensive
+observation, he piled log upon log till the fire was half up the chimney.
+Then he got all the chairs and made a semi-circle, and spread out the
+various garments to the genial heat; and so close that, had a spark
+flown, they would have been warmed with a vengeance, and the superiority
+of the male intellect demonstrated. This done, he retired, with a guilty
+air; for he did not want to be caught meddling in such frivolities by
+Miss Dover or Miss Maitland. However, he was quite safe; those superior
+spirits were wholly occupied with the loftier things of the mind,
+especially the characters of their neighbors.
+
+I must now go for these truants that are giving everybody so much
+trouble.
+
+When Fanny fell lame and said she was very sorry, but she must go home
+and change her boots, Zoe was for going home too. But Fanny, doubting her
+sincerity, was peremptory, and said they had only to stroll slowly on,
+and then turn; she should meet them coming back. Zoe colored high,
+suspecting they had seen the last of this ingenious young lady.
+
+“What a good girl!” cried Severne.
+
+“I am afraid she is a very naughty girl,” said Zoe, faintly; and the
+first effect of Fanny's retreat was to make her a great deal more
+reserved and less sprightly.
+
+Severne observed, and understood, and saw he must give her time. He was
+so respectful, as well as tender, that, by degrees, she came out again,
+and beamed with youth and happiness.
+
+They strolled very slowly by the fair river, and the pretty little
+nothings they said to each other began to be mere vehicles for those soft
+tones and looks, in which love is made, far more than by the words
+themselves.
+
+When they started on this walk, Severne had no distinct nor serious views
+on Zoe. But he had been playing with fire for some time, and so now he
+got well burned.
+
+Walking slowly by his side, and conscious of being wooed, whatever the
+words might be, Zoe was lovelier than ever. Those lowered lashes, that
+mantling cheek, those soft, tender murmurs, told him he was dear, and
+thrilled his heart, though a cold one compared with hers.
+
+He was in love; as much as he could be, and more than he had ever been
+before. He never even asked himself whether permanent happiness was
+likely to spring from this love: he was self-indulgent, reckless, and in
+love.
+
+He looked at her, wished he could recall his whole life, and sighed.
+
+“Why do you sigh?” said she, gently.
+
+“I don't know. Yes, I do. Because I am not happy.”
+
+“Not happy?” said she. “You ought to be; and I am sure you deserve to
+be.”
+
+“I don't know that. However, I think I shall be happier in a few minutes,
+or else very unhappy indeed. That depends on you.”
+
+“On me, Mr. Severne?” and she blushed crimson, and her bosom began to
+heave. His words led her to expect a declaration and a proposal of
+marriage.
+
+He saw her mistake; and her emotion spoke so plainly and sweetly, and
+tried him so, that it cost him a great effort not to clasp her in his
+arms. But that was not his cue at present. He lowered his eyes, to give
+her time, and said, sadly, “I cannot help seeing that, somehow, there is
+suspicion in the air about me. Miss Maitland puts questions, and drops
+hints. Miss Dover watches me like a lynx. Even you gave me a hint the
+other day that I never talk to you about my relations, and my past life.”
+
+“Pray do not confound me with other people,” said Zoe proudly. “If I am
+curious, it is because I know you must have done many good things and
+clever things; but you have too little vanity, or too much pride, to tell
+them even to one who--esteems you, and could appreciate.”
+
+“I know you are as generous and noble as most people are narrow-minded,”
+ said Severne, enthusiastically; “and I have determined to tell you all
+about myself.”
+
+Zoe's cheeks beamed with gratified pride and her eyes sparkled.
+
+“Only, as I would not tell it to anybody but you, I must stipulate that
+you will receive it in sacred confidence, and not repeat it to a living
+soul.”
+
+“Not even to my brother, who loves you so?”
+
+“Not even to him.”
+
+This alarmed the instinctive delicacy and modesty of a truly virgin soul.
+
+“I am not experienced,” said she. “But I feel I ought not to yield to
+curiosity and hear from you anything I am forbidden to tell my brother.
+You might as well say I must not tell my mother; for dear Harrington is
+all the mother I have; and I am sure he is a true friend to you” (this
+last a little reproachfully).
+
+But for Severne's habitual self-command, he would have treated this
+delicacy as ridiculous prudery; but he was equal to greater difficulties.
+
+“You are right, by instinct, in everything. Well, then, I shall tell you,
+and you shall see at once whether it ought to be repeated, or to remain a
+sacred deposit between me and the only creature I have the courage to
+tell it to.”
+
+Zoe lowered her eyes, and marked the sand with her parasol. She was a
+little puzzled now, and half conscious that, somehow, he was tying her to
+secrecy with silk instead of rope; but she never suspected the deliberate
+art and dexterity with which it was done.
+
+Severne then made the revelation which he had been preparing for a day or
+two past; and, to avoid eternal comments by the author, I must once more
+call in the artful aid of the printers. The true part of Mr. Severne's
+revelation is in italics; the false in ordinary type.
+
+_“When my father died, I inherited an estate in Huntingdonshire. It was
+not so large as Vizard's, but it was clear. Not a mortgage nor
+incumbrance on it. I had a younger brother;_ a fellow with charming
+manners, and very accomplished. These were his ruin: he got into high
+society in London; _but high society is not always good society._ He
+became connected with a fast lot, some of the young nobility. Of course
+he could not vie with them. He got deeply in debt. Not but what they were
+in debt too, every one of them. He used to send to me for money oftener
+than I liked; but I never suspected the rate he was going at. I was
+anxious, too, about him; but I said to myself he was just sowing his wild
+oats, like other fellows. Well, it went on, until--to his misfortune and
+mine--he got entangled in some disgraceful transactions; the general
+features are known to all the world. I dare say you have heard of one or
+two young noblemen who committed forgeries on their relations and friends
+some years ago. _One of them, the son of an earl, took his sister's whole
+fortune out of her bank, with a single forged check. I believe the sum
+total of his forgeries was over one hundred thousand pounds. His father
+could not find half the money. A number of the nobility had to combine to
+repurchase the documents; many of them were in the hands of the Jews; and
+I believe a composition was effected, with the help of a very powerful
+barrister, an M. P. He went out of his line on this occasion, and
+mediated between the parties._ What will you think when I tell you that
+my brother, the son of my father and my mother, was one of these
+forgers--a criminal?”
+
+“My poor friend!” cried Zoe, clasping her innocent hands.
+
+“It was a thunder-clap. I had a great mind to wash my hands of it, and
+let him go to prison. But how could I? The struggle ended in my doing
+like the rest. Only poor, I had no noble kinsmen with long purses to help
+me, and no solicitor-general to mediate _sub rosa._ The total amount
+would have swamped my family acres. I got them down to sixty per cent,
+and that only crippled my estate forever. As for my brother, he fell on
+his knees to me. But I could not forgive him. _He left the country with a
+hundred pounds_ I gave him. _He is in Canada; and only known there as a
+most respectable farmer._ He talks of paying me back. That I shall
+believe when I see it. All I know for certain is that his crime has
+mortgaged my estate, and left me poor--and suspected.”
+
+While Severne related this, there passed a somewhat notable thing in the
+world of mind. The inventor of this history did not understand it; the
+hearer did, and accompanied it with innocent sympathetic sighs. Her
+imagination, more powerful and precise than the inventor's, pictured the
+horror of the high-minded brother, his agony, his shame, his respect for
+law and honesty, his pity for his own flesh and blood, his struggle, and
+the final triumph of fraternal affection. Every line of the figment was
+alive to her, and she _realized_ the tale. Severne only repeated it.
+
+At the last touch of his cold art, the warm-hearted girl could contain no
+longer.
+
+“Oh, poor Mr. Severne!” she cried; “poor Mr. Severne!” And the tears ran
+down her cheeks.
+
+He looked at her first with a little astonishment--fancy taking his
+little narrative to heart like that--then with compunction, and then with
+a momentary horror at himself, and terror at the impassable gulf fixed
+between them, by her rare goodness and his depravity.
+
+Then for a moment he felt, and felt all manner of things at once. “Oh,
+don't cry,” he blurted out, and began to blubber himself at having made
+her cry at all, and so unfairly. It was his lucky hour; this hysterical
+effusion, undignified by a single grain of active contrition, or even
+penitent resolve, told in his favor. They mingled their tears; and hearts
+cannot hold aloof when tears come together. Yes, they mingled their
+tears, and the crocodile tears were the male's, if you please, and the
+woman's tears were pure holy drops, that angels might have gathered and
+carried them to God for pearls of the human soul.
+
+After they had cried together over the cool figment, Zoe said: “I do not
+repent my curiosity now. You did well to tell me. Oh, no, you were right,
+and I will never tell anybody. People are narrow-minded. They shall never
+cast your brother's crime in your teeth, nor your own losses I esteem you
+for--oh, so much more than ever! I wonder you could tell me.”
+
+“You would not wonder if you knew how superior you are to all the world:
+how noble, how generous, and how I--”
+
+“Oh, Mr. Severne, it is going to rain! We must get home as fast as ever
+we can.”
+
+They turned, and Zoe, with true virgin coyness, and elastic limbs, made
+the coming rain an excuse for such swift walking that Severne could not
+make tender love to her. To be sure, Apollo ran after Daphne, with his
+little proposals; but, I take it, he ran mute--till he found he couldn't
+catch her. Indeed, it was as much as Severne could do to keep up with her
+“fair heel and toe.” But I ascribe this to her not wearing high heels
+ever since Fanny told her she was just a little too tall, and she was
+novice enough to believe her.
+
+She would not stop for the drizzle; but at last it came down with such a
+vengeance that she was persuaded to leave the path and run for a
+cattle-shed at some distance. Here she and Severne were imprisoned.
+Luckily for them “the kye had not come hame,” and the shed was empty.
+They got into the farthest corner of it; for it was all open toward the
+river; and the rain pattered on the roof as if it would break it.
+
+Thus driven together, was it wonderful that soon her hand was in his, and
+that, as they purred together, and murmured soft nothings, more than once
+she was surprised into returning the soft pressure which he gave it so
+often?
+
+The plump declaration she had fled from, and now seemed deliciously
+resigned to, did not actually come. But he did what she valued more, he
+resumed his confidences: told her he had vices; was fond of gambling.
+Excused it on the score of his loss by his brother; said he hoped soon to
+hear good news from Canada; didn't despair; was happy now, in spite of
+all; had been happy ever since he had met _her._ What declaration was
+needed? The understanding was complete. Neither doubted the other's love;
+and Zoe would have thought herself a faithless, wicked girl, if, after
+this, she had gone and accepted any other man.
+
+But presently she had a misgiving, and looked at her watch. Yes, it
+wanted but one hour to dinner. Now, her brother was rather a Tartar about
+punctuality at dinner. She felt she was already in danger of censure for
+her long _te'te-'a-te'te_ with Severne, though the rain was the culprit.
+She could not afford to draw every eye upon her by being late for dinner
+along with him.
+
+She told Severne they must go home now, rain or no rain, and she walked
+resolutely out into the weather.
+
+Severne did not like it at all, but he was wise enough to deplore it only
+on her account; and indeed her light alpaca was soon drenched, and began
+to cling to her. But the spirited girl only laughed at his condolences,
+as she hurried on. “Why, it is only warm water,” said she; “this is no
+more than a bath in the summer sea. Bathing is getting wet through in
+blue flannel. Well, I am bathing in blue alpaca.”
+
+ “But it will ruin your dress.”
+
+“My dress! Why, it is as old as the hills. When I get home I'll give it
+to Rosa, ready washed--ha-ha!”
+
+The rain pelted and poured, and long before they reached the inn, Zoe's
+dress had become an external cuticle, an alpaca skin.
+
+But innocence is sometimes very bold. She did not care a bit; and, to
+tell the truth, she had little need to care. Beauty so positive as hers
+is indomitable. The petty accidents that are the terrors of homely charms
+seem to enhance Queen Beauty. Disheveled hair adorns it: close bound hair
+adorns it. Simplicity adorns it. Diamonds adorn it. Everything seems to
+adorn it, because, the truth is, it adorns everything. And so Zoe,
+drenched with rain, and her dress a bathing-gown, was only a Greek
+goddess tinted blue, her bust and shoulders and her molded figure
+covered, yet revealed. What was she to an artist's eye? Just the Townly
+Venus with her sculptor's cunning draperies, and Juno's gait.
+
+“Et vera incessa patuit Dea.”
+
+When she got to the hotel she held up her finger to Severne with a pretty
+peremptoriness. She had shown him so much tenderness, she felt she had a
+right to order him now: “I must beg of you,” said she, “to go straight to
+your rooms and dress very quickly, and present yourself to Harrington
+five minutes before dinner at least.”
+
+“I will obey,” said he, obsequiously.
+
+That pleased her, and she kissed her hand to him and scudded to her own
+room.
+
+At sight of the blazing fire and provident preparations, she started, and
+said, aloud, “Oh, how nice of them!” and, all dripping as she was, she
+stood there with her young heart in a double glow.
+
+Such a nature as hers has too little egotism and low-bred vanity to
+undervalue worthy love. The infinite heart of a Zoe Vizard can love but
+one with passion, yet ever so many more with warm and tender affection.
+
+She gave Aunt Maitland credit for this provident affection. It was out of
+the sprightly Fanny's line; and she said to herself, “Dear old thing!
+there, I thought she was bottling up a lecture for me, and all the time
+her real anxiety was lest I should be wet through.” Thereupon she settled
+in her mind to begin loving Aunt Maitland from that hour. She did not
+ring for her maid till she was nearly dressed, and, when Rosa came and
+exclaimed at the condition of her cast-off robes, she laughed and told
+her it was nothing--the Rhine was nice and warm--pretending she had been
+in it. She ordered her to dry the dress, and iron it.
+
+“Why, la, miss; you'll never wear it again, to be sure?” said Rosa,
+demurely.
+
+“I don't know,” said the young lady, archly; “but I mean to take great
+care of it,” and burst out laughing like a peal of silver bells, because
+she was in high spirits, and saw what Rosa would be at.
+
+Give away the gown she had been wooed and wet through in--no, thank you!
+Such gowns as these be landmarks, my masters.
+
+Vizard, unconscious of her arrival, was walking up and down the room,
+fidgeting more and more, when in came Zoe, dressed high in black silk and
+white lace, looking ever so cozy, and blooming like a rose.
+
+“What!” said he; “in, and dressed.” He took her by the shoulders and gave
+her a great kiss. “You young monkey!” said he, “I was afraid you were
+washed away.”
+
+Zoe suggested that would only have been a woman obliterated.
+
+“That is true,” said he, with an air of hearty conviction. “I forgot
+that.”
+
+He then inquired if she had had a nice walk.
+
+“Oh, beautiful! Imprisoned half the time in a cow-shed, and then
+drenched. But I'll have a nice walk with you, dear, up and down the
+room.”
+
+“Come on, then.”
+
+So she put her right hand on his left shoulder, and gave him her left
+hand, and they walked up and down the room, Zoe beaming with happiness
+and affection for everybody and walking at a graceful bend.
+
+Severne came in, dressed as perfect as though just taken out of a
+bandbox. He sat down at a little table, and read a little journal
+unobtrusively. It was his cue to divest his late _te'te-'a-te'te_ of
+public importance.
+
+Then came dinner, and two of the party absent. Vizard heard their voices
+going like mill-clacks at this sacred hour, and summoned them rather
+roughly, as stated above. His back was to Zoe, and she rubbed her hands
+gayly to Severne, and sent him a flying whisper: “Oh, what fun! We are
+the culprits, and they are the ones scolded.”
+
+Dinner waited ten minutes, and then the defaulters appeared. Nothing was
+said, but Vizard looked rather glum; and Aunt Maitland cast a vicious
+look at Severne and Zoe: they had made a forced march, and outflanked
+her. She sat down, and bided her time, like a fowler waiting till the
+ducks come within shot.
+
+But the conversation was commonplace, inconsecutive, shifty, and vague,
+and it was two hours before anything came within shot: all this time not
+a soul suspected the ambushed fowler.
+
+At last, Vizard, having thrown out one of his hints that the fair sex are
+imperfect, Fanny, being under the influence of Miss Maitland's
+revelations, ventured to suggest that they had no more faults than men,
+and _certainly_ were not more deceitful.
+
+“Indeed?” said Vizard. “Not--more--_deceitful!_ Do you speak from
+experience?”
+
+“Oh, no, no,” said Fanny, getting rather frightened. “I only think so,
+somehow.”
+
+“Well, but you must have a reason. May I respectfully inquire whether
+more men have jilted you than you have jilted?”
+
+“You may inquire as respectfully as you like; but I shan't tell you.”
+
+“That is right, Miss Dover,” said Severne; “don't you put up with his
+nonsense. He knows nothing about it: women are angels, compared with men.
+The wonder is, how they can waste so much truth and constancy and beauty
+upon the foul sex. To my mind, there is only one thing we beat you in; we
+do stick by each other rather better than you do. You are truer to us. We
+are a little truer to each other.”
+
+“Not a little,” suggested Vizard, dryly.
+
+“For my part,” said Zoe, blushing pink at her boldness in advancing an
+opinion on so large a matter, “I think these comparisons are rather
+narrow-minded. What have we to do with bad people, male or female? A good
+man is good, and a good woman is good. Still, I do think that women have
+greater hearts to love, and men, perhaps, greater hearts for friendship:”
+ then, blushing roseate, “even in the short time we have been here we have
+seen two gentlemen give up pleasure for self-denying friendship. Lord
+Uxmoor gave us all up for a sick friend. Mr. Severne did more, perhaps;
+for he lost that divine singer. You will never hear her now, Mr.
+Severne.”
+
+The Maitland gun went off: “A sick friend! Mr. Severne? Ha, ha, ha! You
+silly girl, he has got no sick friend. He was at the gaming-table. That
+was his sick friend.”
+
+It was an effective discharge. It winged a duck or two. It killed, as
+follows: the tranquillity--the good humor--and the content of the little
+party.
+
+Severne started, and stared, and lost color, and then cast at Vizard a
+venomous look never seen on his face before; for he naturally concluded
+that Vizard had betrayed him.
+
+Zoe was amazed, looked instantly at Severne, saw it was true, and turned
+pale at his evident discomfiture. Her lover had been guilty of
+deceit--mean and rather heartless deceit.
+
+Even Fanny winced at the pointblank denunciation of a young man, who was
+himself polite to everybody. She would have done it in a very different
+way--insinuations, innuendo, etc.
+
+“They have found you out, old fellow,” said Vizard, merrily; “but you
+need not look as if you had robbed a church. Hang it all! a fellow has
+got a right to gamble, if he chooses. Anyway, he paid for his whistle;
+for he lost three hundred pounds.”
+
+“Three hundred pounds!” cried the terrible old maid. “Where ever did he
+get them to lose?”
+
+Severne divined that he had nothing to gain by fiction here; so he said,
+sullenly, “I got them from Vizard; but I gave him value for them.”
+
+“You need not publish our private transactions, Ned,” said Vizard. “Miss
+Maitland, this is really not in your department.”
+
+“Oh, yes, it is,” said she; “and so you'll find.”
+
+This pertinacity looked like defiance. Vizard rose from his chair, bowed
+ironically, with the air of a man not disposed for a hot argument.
+
+“In that case--with permission--I'll withdraw to my veranda and, in that
+[he struck a light] peaceful--[here he took a suck] shade--”
+
+“You will meditate on the charms of Ina Klosking.”
+
+Vizard received this poisoned arrow in the small of the back, as he was
+sauntering out. He turned like a shot, as if a man had struck him, and,
+for a single moment, he looked downright terrible and wonderfully unlike
+the easy-going Harrington Vizard. But he soon recovered himself. “What!
+you listen, do you?” said he; and turned contemptuously on his heel
+without another word.
+
+There was an uneasy, chilling pause. Miss Maitland would have given
+something to withdraw her last shot. Fanny was very uncomfortable and
+fixed her eyes on the table. Zoe, deeply shocked at Severne's deceit, was
+now amazed and puzzled about her brother. “Ina Klosking!” inquired she;
+“who is that?”
+
+“Ask Mr. Severne,” said Miss Maitland, sturdily.
+
+Now Mr. Severne was sitting silent, but with restless eyes, meditating
+how he should get over that figment of his about the sick friend.
+
+Zoe turned round on him, fixed her glorious eyes full upon his face, and
+said, rather imperiously, “Mr. Severne, who is Ina Klosking?”
+
+Mr. Severne looked up blankly in her face, and said nothing.
+
+She colored at not being answered, and repeated her question (all this
+time Fanny's eyes were fixed on the young man even more keenly than
+Zoe's), “Who--and what--is Ina Klosking?”
+
+“She is a public singer.”
+
+“Do you know her?”
+
+“Yes; I heard her sing at Vienna.”
+
+“Yes, yes; but do you know her to speak to?”
+
+He considered half a moment, and then said he had not that honor. “But,”
+ said he, rather hurriedly, “somebody or other told me she had come out at
+the opera here and made a hit.”
+
+“What in--Siebel?”
+
+“I don't know. But I saw large bills out with her name. She made her
+_de'but_ in Gounod's 'Faust.'”
+
+“It is _my_ Siebel!” cried Zoe, rapturously. “Why, aunt, no wonder
+Harrington admires her. For my part, I adore her.”
+
+_“You,_ child! That is quite a different matter.”
+
+“No, it is not. He is like me; he has only seen her once, as I have, and
+on the stage.”
+
+“Fiddle-dee-dee. I tell you he is in love with her, over head and ears.
+He is wonderfully inflammable for a woman-hater. Ask Mr. Severne: he
+knows.”
+
+“Mr. Severne, is my brother in love with that lady?”
+
+Severne's turn had come; that able young man saw his chance, and did as
+good a bit of acting as ever was extemporized even by an Italian mime.
+
+“Miss Vizard,” said he, fixing his hazel eyes on her for the first time,
+in a way that made her feel his power, “what passed in confidence between
+two friends ought to be sacred. Don't--you--think so?” (The girl
+quivered, remembering the secret he had confessed to her.) “Miss Maitland
+has done your brother and me the honor to listen to our secrets. She
+shall repeat them, if she thinks it delicate; but I shall not, without
+Vizard's consent; and, more than that, the conversation seems to me to be
+taking the turn of casting blame and ridicule and I don't know what on
+the best-hearted, kindest-hearted, truest-hearted, noblest, and manliest
+man I know. I decline to take any further share in it.”
+
+With these last words in his mouth, he stuck his hands defiantly into his
+pockets and stalked out into the veranda, looking every inch a man.
+
+Zoe folded her arms and gazed after him with undisguised admiration. How
+well everything he did became him; his firing up--his _brusquerie--_the
+very movements of his body, all so piquant, charming, and unwomanly! As
+he vanished from her admiring eyes, she turned, with flaming cheeks, on
+Miss Maitland, and said, “Well, aunt, you have driven them both out at
+the window; now, say something pretty to Fanny and me, and drive us out
+at the door.”
+
+Miss Maitland hung her head; she saw she had them all against her but
+Fanny, and Fanny was a trimmer. She said, sorrowfully, “No, Zoe. I feel
+how unattractive I have made the room. I have driven away the gods of
+your idolatry--they are only idols of clay; but that you can't believe. I
+will banish nobody else, except a cross-grained, but respectable old
+woman, who is too experienced, and too much soured by it, to please young
+people when things are going wrong.”
+
+With this she took her bed-candle, and retired.
+
+Zoe had an inward struggle. As Miss Maitland opened her bedroom door, she
+called to her: “Aunt! one word. Was it you that ordered the fire in my
+bedroom?”
+
+Now, if she had received the answer she expected, she meant to say, “Then
+please let me forget everything else you have said or done to-day.” But
+Miss Maitland stared a little, and said, “Fire in your bedroom? no.”
+
+“Oh! Then I have nothing to thank you for this day,” said Zoe, with all
+the hardness of youth; though, as a general rule, she had not her share
+of it.
+
+The old lady winced visibly, but she made a creditable answer. “Then, my
+dear, you shall have my prayers this night; and it does not matter much
+whether you thank me for them or not.”
+
+As she disappeared, Zoe flung herself wearily on a couch, and very soon
+began to cry. Fanny ran to her and nestled close to her, and the two had
+a rock together, Zoe crying, and Fanny coaxing and comforting.
+
+“Ah!” sighed Zoe, “this was the happiest day of my life; and see how it
+ends. Quarreling; and deceit! the one I hate, the other I despise. No,
+never again, until I have said my prayers, and am just going to sleep,
+will I cry 'O giorno felice!' as I did this afternoon, when the rain was
+pouring on me, but my heart was all in a glow.”
+
+These pretty little lamentations of youth were interrupted by Mr. Severne
+slipping away from his friend, to try and recover lost ground.
+
+He was coolly received by Zoe; then he looked dismayed, but affected not
+to understand; then Zoe pinched Fanny, which meant “I don't choose to put
+him on his defense; but I am dying to hear if he has anything to say.”
+ Thereupon Fanny obeyed that significant pinch, and said, “Mr. Severne, my
+cousin is not a woman of the world; she is a country girl, with
+old-fashioned romantic notions that a man should be above telling fibs. I
+have known her longer than you, and I see she can't understand your
+passing off the gambling-table for a sick friend.”
+
+“Why, I never did,” said he, as bold as brass.
+
+“Mr. Severne!”
+
+“Miss Dover, my sick friend was at 'The Golden Star.' That's a small
+hotel in a different direction from the Kursaal. I was there from seven
+o'clock till nine. You ask the waiter, if you don't believe me.”
+
+Fanny giggled at this inadvertent speech; but Zoe's feelings were too
+deeply engaged to shoot fun flying. “Fanny” cried she, eagerly, “I heard
+him tell the coachman to drive him to that very place, 'The Golden
+Star.'”
+
+“Really?” said Fanny, mystified.
+
+“Indeed I did, dear. I remember 'The Golden Star' distinctly.
+
+“Ladies, I was there till nine o'clock. Then I started for the theater.
+Unfortunately the theater is attached to the Kursaal. I thought I would
+just look in for a few minutes. In fact, I don't think I was there half
+an hour. But Miss Maitland is quite right in one thing. I lost more than
+two hundred pounds, all through playing on a false system. Of course, I
+know I had no business to go there at all, when I might have been by your
+side.”
+
+“And heard La Klosking.”
+
+“It was devilish bad taste, and you may well be surprised and offended.”
+
+“No, no; not at that,” said Zoe.
+
+“But hang it all, don't make a fellow worse than he is! Why should I
+invent a sick friend? I suppose I have a right to go to the Kursaal if I
+choose. At any rate, I mean to go to-morrow afternoon, and win a pot of
+money. Hinder me who can.”
+
+Zoe beamed with pleasure. “That spiteful old woman! I am ashamed of
+myself. Of course you _have._ It becomes a man to say _je veux;_ and it
+becomes a woman to yield. Forgive our unworthy doubts. We will all go to
+the Kursaal to-morrow.”
+
+
+The reconciliation was complete; and, to add to Zoe's happiness, she made
+a little discovery. Rosa came in to see if she wanted anything. That, you
+must know, was Rosa's way of saying, “It is very late. _I_'m tired; so
+the sooner _you_ go to bed, the better.” And Zoe was by nature so
+considerate that she often went to bed more for Rosa's convenience than
+her own inclination.
+
+But this time she said, sharply, “Yes, I do. I want to know who had my
+fire lighted for me in the middle of summer.”
+
+“Why, squire, to be sure,” said Rosa.
+
+“What--_my_ brother!”
+
+“Yes, miss; and seen to it all hisself: leastways, I found the things
+properly muddled. 'Twas to be seen a man had been at 'em.”
+
+Rosa retired, leaving Zoe's face a picture.
+
+Just then Vizard put his head cautiously in at the window, and said, in a
+comic whisper, “Is she gone?”
+
+“Yes, she is gone,” cried Zoe, “and you are wanted in her place.” She ran
+to meet him. “Who ordered a fire in my room, and muddled all my things?”
+ said she, severely.
+
+“I did. What of that?”
+
+“Oh, nothing. Only now I know who is my friend. Young people, here's a
+lesson for you. When a lady is out in the rain, don't prepare a lecture
+for her, like Aunt Maitland, but light her fire, like this dear old duck
+of a woman-hating impostor. Kiss me!” (violently).
+
+“There--pest!”
+
+“That is not enough, nor half. There, and there, and there, and there,
+and there, and there.”
+
+“Now look here, my young friend,” said Vizard, holding her lovely head
+by both ears, “you are exciting yourself about nothing, and that will end
+in one of your headaches. So, just take your candle, and go to bed, like
+a good little girl.”
+
+“Must I? Well, then, I will. Goodby, tyrant dear. Oh, how I love you!
+Come, Fanny.”
+
+She gave her hand shyly to Severne, and soon they were both in Zoe's
+room.
+
+Rosa was dismissed, and they had their chat; but it was nearly all on one
+side. Fanny had plenty to say, but did not say it. She had not the heart
+to cloud that beaming face again so soon; she temporized: Zoe pressed her
+with questions too; but she slurred things, Zoe asked her why Miss
+Maitland was so bitter against Mr. Severne. Fanny said, in an off-hand
+way, “Oh, it is only on your account she objects to him.”
+
+“And what are her objections?”
+
+“Oh, only grammatical ones, dear. She says his _antecedents_ are obscure,
+and his _relatives_ unknown, ha! ha! ha!” Fanny laughed, but Zoe did not
+see the fun. Then Fanny stroked her down.
+
+“Never mind that old woman. I shall interfere properly, if I see you in
+danger. It was monstrous her making an _esclandre_ at the very
+dinner-table, and spoiling your happy day.”
+
+“But she hasn't!” cried Zoe, eagerly. “'All's well that ends well.' I am
+happy--oh, so happy! You love me. Harrington loves me. _He_ loves me.
+What more can any woman ask for than to be _ambata bene?”_
+
+This was the last word between Zoe and Fanny upon St. Brooch's day.
+
+As Fanny went to her own room, the vigilant Maitland opened her door that
+looked upon the corridor and beckoned her in. “Well,” said she, “did you
+speak to Zoe?”
+
+“Just a word before dinner. Aunt, she came in wet, to the skin, and in
+higher spirits than Rosa ever knew her.”
+
+Aunt groaned.
+
+“And what do you think? Her spoiled dress, she ordered it to be ironed
+and put by. _It is a case.”_
+
+
+Next day they all met at a late breakfast, and good humor was the order
+of the day. This encouraged Zoe to throw out a feeler about the
+gambling-tables. Then Fanny said it must be nice to gamble, because it
+was so naughty. “In a long experience,” said Miss Dover, with a sigh, “I
+have found that whatever is nice is naughty, and whatever is naughty is
+nice.”
+
+“There's a short code of morals,” observed Vizard, “for the use of
+seminaries. Now let us hear Severne; he knows all the defenses of
+gambling lunacy has discovered.”
+
+Severne, thus appealed to, said play was like other things, bad only when
+carried to excess. “At Homburg, where the play is fair, what harm can
+there be in devoting two or three hours of a long day to _trente et
+quarante?_ The play exercises memory, judgment, _sangfroid,_ and other
+good qualities of the mind. Above all, it is on the square. Now, buying
+and selling shares without delivery, bulling, and bearing, and rigging,
+and Stock Exchange speculations in general, are just as much gambling;
+but with cards all marked, and dice loaded, and the fair player has no
+chance. The world,” said this youthful philosopher, “is taken in by
+words. The truth is, that gambling with cards is fair, and gambling
+without cards a swindle.”
+
+“He is hard upon the City,” said the Vizard; “but no matter. Proceed,
+young man. Develop your code of morals for the amusement of mankind,
+while duller spirits inflict instruction.”
+
+“You have got my opinion,” said Severne. “Oblige us with yours.”
+
+“No; mine would not be popular just now: I reserve it till we are there,
+and can see the lunatics at work.”
+
+“Oh, then we are to go,” cried Fanny. “Oh, be joyful!”
+
+“That depends on Miss Maitland. It is not in my department.”
+
+Instantly four bright eyes were turned piteously on the awful Maitland.
+
+“Oh, aunt,” said Zoe, pleadingly, “do you think there would be any great
+harm in our--just for once in a way?”
+
+“My dear,” said Miss Maitland, solemnly, “I cannot say that I approve of
+public gambling in general. But at Homburg the company is select. I have
+seen a German prince, a Russian prince, and two English countesses, the
+very _e'lite_ of London society, seated at the same table in the Kursaal.
+I think, therefore, there can be no harm in your going, under the conduct
+of older persons--myself, for example, and your brother.”
+
+“Code three,” suggested Vizard--“the chaperonian code.”
+
+“And a very good one, too,” said Zoe. “But, aunt, must we look on, or may
+we play just a little, little?”
+
+“My dear, there can be no great harm in playing a little, in _good
+company_--if you play with your own money.” She must have one dig at
+Severne.
+
+“I shan't play very deep, then,” said Fanny; “for I have got no money
+hardly.”
+
+Vizard came to the front, like a man. “No more should I,” said he, “but
+for Herries & Co. As it is, I am a Croesus, and I shall stand one hundred
+pounds, which you three ladies must divide; and between you, no doubt,
+you will break the bank.”
+
+Acclamations greeted this piece of misogyny. When they had subsided,
+Severne was called on to explain the game, and show the young ladies how
+to win a fortune with thirty-three pounds six shillings and eight pence.
+
+The table was partly cleared, two packs of cards sent for, and the
+professor lectured.
+
+“This,” said he, “is the cream of the game. Six packs are properly
+shuffled, and properly cut; the players put their money on black or red,
+which is the main event, and is settled thus: The dealer deals the cards
+in two rows. He deals the _first_ row for black, and stops the moment the
+cards pass thirty. That deal determines how near _noir_ can get to
+thirty-one.”
+
+Severne then dealt for _noir,_ and the cards came as follows:
+
+“Queen of hearts--four of clubs--ten of spades--nine of diamonds: total,
+thirty-three.”
+
+He then dealt for red:
+
+Knave of clubs--ace of diamonds--two of spades--king of spades--nine of
+hearts: total, thirty-two.
+
+“Red wins, because the cards dealt for red come nearer thirty-one.
+Besides that,” said he, “you can bet on the color, or against it. The
+actual color of the first card the player turns up on the black line must
+be black or red. Whichever happens to be it is called 'the color.' Say it
+is red; then, if the black line of cards wins, color loses. Now, I will
+deal again for both events.
+
+“I deal for _noir.”_
+
+“Nine of diamonds. Red, then, is the actual color turned up on the black
+line. Do you bet for it, or against it?”
+
+“I bet for it,” cried Zoe. “It's my favorite color.”
+
+“And what do you say on the main event?”
+
+“Oh, red on that too.”
+
+“Very good. I go on dealing for _noir._ Queen of diamonds, three of
+spades, knave of hearts--nine of spades: thirty-two. That looks ugly for
+your two events, black coming so near as thirty-two. Now for red. Four of
+hearts, knave of spades, seven of diamonds, queen of clubs--thirty-one,
+by Jove! _Rouge gagne, et couleur._ There is nothing like courage. You
+have won both events.”
+
+“Oh, what a nice game!” cried Zoe.
+
+He then continued to deal, and they all bet on the main event and the
+color, staking fabulous sums, till at last both numbers came up
+thirty-one.
+
+Thereupon Severne informed them that half the stakes belonged to him.
+That was the trifling advantage accorded to the bank.
+
+“Which trifling advantage,” said Vizard, “has enriched the man-eating
+company, and their prince, and built the Kursaal, and will clean you all
+out, if you play long enough.”
+
+“That,” said Severne, “I deny. It is more than balanced by the right the
+players have of doubling, till they gain, and by the maturity of the
+chances: I will explain this to the ladies. You see experience proves
+that neither red nor black can come up more than nine times running.
+When, therefore, either color has come up four times, you can put a
+moderate stake on the other color, and double on it till it _must_ come,
+by the laws of nature. Say red has turned four times. You put a napoleon
+on black; red gains. You lose a napoleon. You don't remove it, but double
+on it. The chances are now five to one you gain: but if you lose, you
+double on the same, and, when you have got to sixteen napoleons, the
+color must change; uniformity has reached its physical limit. That is
+called the maturity of the chances. Begin as unluckily as possible with
+five francs, and lose. If you have to double eight times before you win,
+it only comes to twelve hundred and eighty francs. Given, therefore, a
+man to whom fifty napoleons are no more than five francs to us, he can
+never lose if he doubles, like a Trojan, till the chances are mature.
+This is called 'the Martingale:' but, observe, it only secures against
+loss. Heavy gains are made by doubling judiciously on the _winning_
+color, or by simply betting on short runs of it. When red comes up, back
+red, and double twice on it. Thus you profit by the remarkable and
+observed fact that colors do not, as a rule, alternate, but reach
+ultimate equality by avoiding alternation, and making short runs, with
+occasional long runs; the latter are rare, and must be watched with a
+view to the balancing run of the other color. This is my system.”
+
+“And you really think you have invented it?” asked Vizard.
+
+“I am not so conceited. My system was communicated to me, in the Kursaal
+itself--by an old gentleman.”
+
+_“An_ old gentleman, or _the_--?”
+
+“Oh, Harrington,” cried Zoe, “fie!”
+
+“My wit is appreciated at its value. Proceed, Ned.”
+
+Severne told him, a little defiantly, it was an old gentleman, with a
+noble head, a silvery beard, and the most benevolent countenance he ever
+saw.
+
+“Curious place for his reverence to be in,” hazarded Vizard.
+
+“He saw me betting, first on the black, then on the red, till I was
+cleaned out, and then he beckoned me.”
+
+“Not a man of premature advice anyway.”
+
+“He told me he had observed my play. I had been relying on the
+alternations of the colors, which alternation chance persistently avoids,
+and arrives at equality by runs. He then gave me a better system.”
+
+“And, having expounded his system, he illustrated it? Tell the truth now;
+he sat down and lost the coat off his back? It followed his family
+acres.”
+
+“You are quite wrong again. He never plays. He has heart-disease, and his
+physician has forbidden him all excitement.”
+
+“His nation?”
+
+“Humph! French.”
+
+“Ah! the nation that produced _'Le philosophe sans le savoir.'_ And now
+it has added, _'Le philosophe sans le vouloir,'_ and you have stumbled on
+him. What a life for an aged man! _Fortunatus ille senex qui ludicola
+vivit._ Tantalus handcuffed and glowering over a gambling-table; a hell
+in a hell.”
+
+“Oh, Harrington!--”
+
+“Exclamations not allowed in sober argument, Zoe.”
+
+“Come, Ned, it is not heart-disease, it is purse disease. Just do me a
+favor. Here are five sovereigns; give those to the old beggar, and let
+him risk them.”
+
+“I could hardly take such a liberty with an old gentleman of his age and
+appearance--a man of honor too, and high sentiments. Why, I'd bet seven
+to four he is one of Napoleon's old soldiers.”
+
+The ladies sided unanimously with Severne. “What! offer a _vieux de
+l'Empire_ five pounds? Oh, fie!”
+
+“Fiddle-dee-dee!” said the indomitable Vizard. “Besides, he will do it
+with his usual grace. He will approach the son of Mars with that feigned
+humility which sits so well on youth, and ask him, as a personal favor,
+to invest five pounds for him at _rouge-et-noir._ The old soldier will
+stiffen into double dignity at first, then give him a low wink, and end
+by sitting down and gambling. He will be cautious at starting, as one who
+opens trenches for the siege of Mammon; but soon the veteran will get
+heated, and give battle; he will fancy himself at Jena, since the
+croupiers are Prussians. If he loses, you cut him dead, being a humdrum
+Englishman; and if he wins, he cuts you, and pockets the cash, being a
+Frenchman that talks sentiment.”
+
+This sally provoked a laugh, in which Severne joined, and said, “Really,
+for a landed proprietor, you know a thing or two.” He consented at last,
+with some reluctance, to take the money; and none of the persons present
+doubted that he would execute the commission with a grace and delicacy
+all his own. Nevertheless, to run forward a little with the narrative, I
+must tell you that he never did hand that five pound to the venerable
+sire; a little thing prevented him--the old man wasn't born yet.
+
+“And now,” said Vizard, “it is our last day in Homburg. You are all going
+to gratify your mania--lunacy is contagious. Suppose I gratify mine.”
+
+“Do dear,” said Zoe; “and what is it?”
+
+“I like your asking that; when it was publicly announced last night, and
+I fled discomfited to my balcony, and, in my confusion, lighted a cigar.
+My mania is--the Klosking.”
+
+“That is not a mania; it is good taste. She is admirable.”
+
+ “Yes, in an opera; but I want to know how she looks and talks in a room;
+and that is insane of me.”
+
+“Then so you _shall,_ insane or not. I will call on her this morning, and
+take you in my hand.”
+
+“What an ample palm! and what juvenile audacity! Zoe, you take my breath
+away.”
+
+“No audacity at all. I am sure of my welcome. How often must I tell you
+that we have mesmerized each other, that lady and I, and only waiting an
+opportunity to rush into each other's arms. It began with her singling me
+out at the opera. But I dare say that was owing, _at first,_ only to my
+being in full dress.
+
+“No, no; to your being, like Agamemnon, a head taller than all the other
+Greeks.”
+
+“Harrington! I am not a Greek. I am a thorough English girl at heart,
+though I am as black as a coal.”
+
+“No apology needed in our present frame. You are all the more like the
+ace of spades.”
+
+“Do you want me to take you to the Klosking, sir? Then you had better not
+make fun of me. I tell you she sung to _me,_ and smiled on _me,_ and
+courtesied to _me;_ and, now you have put it into my head, I mean to call
+upon her, and I will take you with me. What I shall do, I shall send in
+my card. I shall be admitted, and you will wait outside. As soon as she
+sees me, she will run to me with both hands out, and say, in excellent
+_French,_ I hope, _'How,_ mademoiselle! you have deigned to remember me,
+and to honor me with a visit.' Then I shall say, in school-French, 'Yes,
+madame; excuse the intrusion, but I was so charmed with your performance.
+We leave Homburg to-morrow, and as, unfortunately for myself, I cannot
+have the pleasure of seeing you again upon the stage--' then I shall
+stop, for her to interrupt me. Then she will interrupt me, and say
+charming things, as only foreigners can; and then I shall say, still in
+school-French, 'Madame, I am not alone. I have my brother with me. He
+adores music, and was as fascinated with your Siebel as myself. May I
+present him?' Then she will say, 'Oh, yes, by all means;' and I shall
+introduce you. Then you can make love to her. That will be droll. Fanny,
+I'll tell you every word he says.”
+
+“Make love to her!” cried Vizard. “Is this your estimate of a brother's
+motives. My object in visiting this lady is, not to feed my mania, but to
+cure it. I have seen her on the stage, looking like the incarnation of a
+poet's dream. I am _extasie'_ with her. Now let me catch her _en
+de'shabille,_ with her porter on one side, and her lover on the other:
+and so to Devonshire, relieved of a fatal illusion.”
+
+“If that is your view, I'll go by myself; for I know she is a noble
+woman, and as much a lady off the stage as on it. My only fear is she
+will talk that dreadful guttural German, with its 'oches' and its
+'aches,' and then where shall we all be? We must ask Mr. Severne to go
+with us.”
+
+“A good idea. No--a vile one. He is abominably handsome, and has the gift
+of the gab--in German, and other languages. He is sure to cut me out, the
+villain! Look him up, somebody, till we come back.”
+
+“Now, Harrington, don't be absurd. He must, and shall, be of the party. I
+have my reasons. Mr. Severne,” said she, turning on him with a blush and
+a divine smile, “you will oblige me, I am sure.”
+
+Severne's face turned as blank as a doll's, and he said nothing, one way
+or other.
+
+
+It was settled that they should all meet at the Kursaal at four, to dine
+and play. But Zoe and her party would go on ahead by the one-o'clock
+train; and so she retired to put on her bonnet--a technical expression,
+which implies a good deal.
+
+Fanny went with her, and, as events more exciting than the usual routine
+of their young lives were ahead, their tongues went a rare pace. But the
+only thing worth presenting to the reader came at the end, after the said
+business of the toilet had been dispatched.
+
+Zoe said, “I must go now, or I shall keep them waiting.”
+
+“Only one, dear,” said Fanny dryly.
+
+“Why only one?”
+
+“Mr. Severne will not go.”
+
+“That he will: I made a point of it.”
+
+“You did, dear? but still he will not go.”
+
+There was something in this, and in Fanny's tone, that startled Zoe, and
+puzzled her sorely. She turned round upon her with flashing eye, and
+said, “No mysteries, please, dear. Why won't he go with me wherever I ask
+him to go? or, rather, what makes you think he won't?”
+
+Said Fanny, thoughtfully: “I could not tell you, all in a moment, why I
+feel so positive. One puts little things together that are nothing apart:
+one observes faces; I do, at least. You don't seem, to me, to be so quick
+at that as most girls. But, Zoe dear, you know very well one often knows
+a thing for certain, yet one doesn't know exactly what makes one know
+it.”
+
+Now Zoe's _amour propre_ was wounded by Fanny's suggestion that Severne
+would not go to Homburg, or, indeed, to the world's end with her; so she
+drew herself up in her grand way, and folded her arms and said, a little
+haughtily, “Then tell me what is it you know about _him_ and me, without
+knowing how on earth you know it.”
+
+The supercilious tone and grand manner nettled Fanny, and it wasn't
+“brooch day;” she stood up to her lofty cousin like a little game-cock.
+“I know this,” said she, with heightened cheek, and flashing eyes and a
+voice of steel, “you will never get Mr. Edward Severne into one room with
+Zoe Vizard and Ina Klosking.”
+
+
+Zoe Vizard turned very pale, but her eyes flashed defiance on her friend.
+
+“That I'll know!” said she, in a deep voice, with a little gasp, but a
+world of pride and resolution.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE ladies went down together, and found Vizard ready. Mr. Severne was
+not in the room. Zoe inquired after him.
+
+“Gone to get a sun-shade,” said Vizard.
+
+“There!” said Zoe to Fanny, in a triumphant whisper. “What is that for
+but to go with us?”
+
+Fanny made no reply.
+
+They waited some time for Severne and his sun-shade.
+
+At last Vizard looked at his watch, and said they had only five minutes
+to spare. “Come down, and look after him. He _must_ be somewhere about.”
+
+They went down and looked for him all over the Platz. He was not to be
+seen. At last Vizard took out his watch, and said, “It is some
+misunderstanding: we can't wait any longer.”
+
+So he and Zoe went to the train. Neither said much on the way to Homburg;
+for they were both brooding. Vizard's good sense and right feeling were
+beginning to sting him a little for calling on the Klosking at all, and a
+great deal for using the enthusiasm of an inexperienced girl to obtain an
+introduction to a public singer. He sat moody in his corner, taking
+himself to task. Zoe's thoughts ran in quite another channel; but she was
+no easier in her mind. It really seemed as if Severne had given her the
+slip. Probably he would explain his conduct; but, then, that Fanny should
+foretell he would avoid her company, rather than call on Mademoiselle
+Klosking, and that Fanny should be right--this made the thing serious,
+and galled Zoe to the quick: she was angry with Fanny for prophesying
+truly; she was rather angry with Severne for not coming, and more angry
+with him for making good Fanny's prediction.
+
+Zoe Vizard was a good girl and a generous girl, but she was not a humble
+girl: she had a great deal of pride, and her share of vanity, and here
+both were galled. Besides that, it seemed to her most strange and
+disheartening that Fanny, who did not love Severne, should be able to
+foretell his conduct better than she, who did love him: such foresight
+looked like greater insight. All this humiliated and also puzzled her
+strangely; and so she sat brooding as deeply as her brother.
+
+As for Vizard, by the time they got to Homburg he had made up his mind.
+As they got out of the train, he said, “Look here, I am ashamed of
+myself. I have a right to play the fool alone; but I have no business to
+drag my sister into it. We will go somewhere else. There are lots of
+things to see. I give up the Klosking.”
+
+Zoe stared at him a moment, and then answered, with cold decision, “No,
+dear; you must allow me to call on her, now I am here. She won't bite
+_me.”_
+
+“Well, but it is a strange thing to do.”
+
+“What does that matter? We are abroad.”
+
+“Come, Zoe, I am much obliged to you; but give it up.”
+
+“No, dear.”
+
+Harrington smiled at her pretty peremptoriness, and misunderstood it.
+“This is carrying sisterly love a long way,” said he. “I must try and
+rise to your level. I won't go with you.”
+
+“Then I shall go alone.”
+
+“What if I forbid you, miss?”
+
+She tapped him on the cheek with her fingers. “Don't affect the tyrant,
+dear; you can't manage it. Fanny said something that has mortified me. I
+shall go. You can do as you like. But, stop; where does she live?”
+
+“Suppose I decline to tell you? I am seized with a virtuous fit--a
+regular paroxysm.”
+
+“Then I shall go to the opera and inquire, dear. But” (coaxingly) “you
+will tell me, dear.”
+
+“There,” said Harrington, “you wicked, tempting girl, my sham virtue has
+oozed away, and my real mania triumphs. She lives at 'The Golden Star.' I
+was weak enough to send Harris in last night to learn.” Zoe smiled.
+
+He hailed a conveyance; and they started at once for “The Golden Star.”
+
+“Zoe,” said Harrington gravely, “something tells me I am going to meet my
+fate.”
+
+“All the better,” said Zoe. “I wish you to meet your fate. My love for my
+brother is not selfish. I am sure she is a good woman. Perhaps I may find
+out something.”
+
+“About what?”
+
+“Oh, never mind.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+ALL this time Ina Klosking was rehearsing at the theater, quite
+unconscious of the impending visit. A royal personage had commanded “Il
+Barbiere,” the part of Rosina to be restored to the original key. It was
+written for a contralto, but transposed by the influence of Grisi.
+
+Having no performance that night, they began to rehearse rather later
+than usual, and did not leave off till a quarter to four o'clock. Ina,
+who suffered a good deal at rehearsals from the inaccuracy and apathy of
+the people, went home fagged, and with her throat parched--so does a bad
+rehearsal affect all good and earnest artists.
+
+She ordered a cutlet, with potato chips, and lay down on the sofa. While
+she was reposing, came Joseph Ashmead, to cheer her, with good
+photographs of her, taken the day before. She smiled gratefully at his
+zeal. He also reminded her that he had orders to take her to the Kursaal:
+he said the tables would be well filled from five o'clock till quite
+late, there being no other entertainment on foot that evening.
+
+Ina thanked him, and said she would not miss going on any account; but
+she was rather fatigued and faint.
+
+“Oh, I'll wait for you as long as you like,” said Ashmead, kindly.
+
+“No, my good comrade,” said Ina. “I will ask you to go to the manager and
+get me a little money, and then to the Kursaal and secure me a place at
+the table in the largest room. There I will join you. If _he_ is not
+there--and I am not so mad as to think he will be there--I shall risk a
+few pieces myself, to be nearer him in mind.”
+
+This amazed Ashmead; it was so unlike her. “You are joking,” said he.
+“Why, if you lose five napoleons at play, it will be your death; you will
+grizzle so.”
+
+“Yes; but I shall not lose. I am too unlucky in love to lose at cards. I
+mean to play this afternoon; and never again in all my life. Sir, I am
+resolved.”
+
+“Oh, if you are resolved, there is no more to be said. I won't run my
+head against a brick wall.”
+
+Ina, being half a foreigner, thought this rather brusk. She looked at him
+askant, and said, quietly, “Others, besides me, can be stubborn, and get
+their own way, while speaking the language of submission. Not I invented
+volition.”
+
+With this flea in his ear, the faithful Joseph went off, chuckling, and
+obtained an advance from the manager, and then proceeded to the principal
+gaming-table, and, after waiting some time, secured a chair, which he
+kept for his chief.
+
+An hour went by; an hour and a half. He was obliged, for very shame, to
+bet. This he did, five francs at a time; and his risk was so small, and
+his luck so even, that by degrees he was drawn into conversation with his
+neighbor, a young swell, who was watching the run of the colors, and
+betting in silver, and pricking a card, preparatory to going in for a
+great _coup._ Meantime he favored Mr. Ashmead with his theory of chances,
+and Ashmead listened very politely to every word; because he was rather
+proud of the other's notice: he was so handsome, well dressed, and well
+spoken.
+
+Meantime Ina Klosking snatched a few minutes' sleep, as most artists can
+in the afternoon, and was awakened by the servant bringing in her frugal
+repast, a cutlet and a pint of Bordeaux.
+
+On her plate he brought her a large card, on which was printed “Miss Zoe
+Vizard.” This led to inquiries, and he told her a lady of superlative
+beauty had called and left that card. Ina asked for a description.
+
+“Ah, madame,” said Karl, “do not expect details from me. I was too
+dazzled, and struck by lightning, to make an inventory of her charms.”
+
+“At least you can tell me was she dark or fair.”
+
+“Madame, she was dark as night; but glorious as the sun. Her earthly
+abode is the Russie, at Frankfort; blest hotel!”
+
+“Did she tell you so?”
+
+“Indirectly. She wrote on the card with the smallest pencil I have
+hitherto witnessed: the letters are faint, the pencil being inferior to
+the case, which was golden. Nevertheless, as one is naturally curious to
+learn whence a bright vision has emerged, I permitted myself to
+decipher.”
+
+“Your curiosity was natural,” said Ina, dryly. “I will detain you with no
+more questions.”
+
+She put the card carefully away, and eat her modest repast. Then she made
+her afternoon toilet, and walked, slowly and pensively, to the Kursaal.
+
+Nothing there was new to her, except to be going to the table without the
+man on whom it was her misfortune to have wasted her heart of gold.
+
+I think, therefore, it would be better for me to enter the place in
+company with our novices; and, indeed, we must, or we shall derange the
+true order of time and sequence of incidents; for, please observe, all
+the English ladies of our story met at the Kursaal while Ina was reposing
+on her sofa.
+
+The first-comers were Zoe and Harrington. They entered the noble hall,
+inscribed their names, and, by that simple ceremony, were members of a
+club, compared with which the greatest clubs in London are petty things:
+a club with spacious dining-rooms, ball-rooms, concert-rooms,
+gambling-rooms, theater, and delicious gardens. The building, that
+combined so many rich treats, was colossal in size, and glorious with
+rich colors and gold laid on with Oriental profusion, and sometimes with
+Oriental taste.
+
+Harrington took his sister through the drawing-rooms first; and she
+admired the unusual loftiness of the rooms, the blaze of white and gold,
+and of _ce'ladon_ and gold, and the great Russian lusters, and the mighty
+mirrors. But when they got to the dining-room she was enchanted. That
+lofty and magnificent _salon,_ with its daring mixture of red and black,
+and green and blue, all melted into harmony by the rivers of gold that
+ran boldly among them, went to her very heart. A Greek is half an
+Oriental; and Zoe had what may be called the courage of color.
+“Glorious!” she cried, and clasped her hands. “And see! what a background
+to the emerald grass outside and the ruby flowers. They seem to come into
+the room through those monster windows.”
+
+“Splendid!” said Harrington, to whom all this was literally Greek. “I'm
+so excited, I'll order dinner.”
+
+“Dinner!” said Zoe, disdainfully; and sat down and eyed the Moresque
+walls around her, and the beauties of nature outside, and brought them
+together in one picture.
+
+Harrington was a long time in conclave with M. Chevet. Then Zoe became
+impatient.
+
+“Oh, do leave off ordering dinner,” said she, “and take me out to that
+other paradise.”
+
+The Chevet shrugged his shoulders with pity. Vizard shrugged his too, to
+soothe him; and, after a few more hurried words, took the lover of color
+into the garden. It was delicious, with green slopes, and rich foliage,
+and flowers, and enlivened by bright silk dresses, sparkling fitfully
+among the green leaves, or flaming out boldly in the sun; and, as luck
+would have it, before Zoe had taken ten steps upon the greensward, the
+band of fifty musicians struck up, and played as fifty men rarely play
+together out of Germany.
+
+Zoe was enchanted. She walked on air, and beamed as bright as any flower
+in the place.
+
+After her first ejaculation at the sudden music, she did not speak for a
+good while; her content was so great. At last she said, “And do they
+leave this paradise to gamble in a room?”
+
+“Leave it? They shun it. The gamblers despise the flowers.”
+
+“How perverse people are! Excitement! Who wants any more than this?”
+
+“Zoe,” said Vizard, “innocent excitement can never compete with vicious.”
+
+“What, is it really wicked to play?”
+
+“I don't know about wicked; you girls always run to the biggest word.
+But, if avarice is a vice, gambling cannot be virtuous; for the root of
+gambling is mere avarice, weak avarice. Come, my young friend, _as we're
+quite alone,_ I'll drop Thersites, and talk sense to you, for once.
+Child, there are two roads to wealth; one is by the way of industry,
+skill, vigilance, and self-denial; and these are virtues, though
+sometimes they go with tricks of trade, hardness of heart, and taking
+advantage of misfortune, to buy cheap and sell dear. The other road to
+wealth is by bold speculation, with risk of proportionate loss; in short,
+by gambling with cards, or without them. Now, look into the mind of the
+gambler--he wants to make money, contrary to nature, and unjustly. He
+wants to be rewarded without merit, to make a fortune in a moment, and
+without industry, vigilance, true skill, or self-denial. 'A penny saved
+is a penny gained' does not enter his creed. Strip the thing of its
+disguise, it is avarice, sordid avarice; and I call it weak avarice,
+because the gambler relies on chance alone, yet accepts uneven chances,
+and hopes that Fortune will be as much in love with him as he is with
+himself. What silly egotism! You admire the Kursaal, and you are right;
+then do just ask yourself why is there nothing to pay for so many
+expensive enjoyments: and very little to pay for concerts and balls; low
+prices at the opera, which never pays its own expenses; even Chevet's
+dinners are reasonable, if you avoid his sham Johannisberg. All these
+cheap delights, the gold, the colors, the garden, the music, the lights,
+are paid for by the losses of feeble-minded Avarice. But, there--I said
+all this to Ned Severne, and I might as well have preached sense to the
+wind.”
+
+“Harrington, I will not play. I am much happier walking with my good
+brother--”
+
+“Faute de mieux.”
+
+Zoe blushed, but would not hear--“And it is so good of you to make a
+friend of me, and talk sense. Oh! see--a lady with two blues! Come and
+look at her.”
+
+Before they had taken five steps, Zoe stopped short and said, “It is
+Fanny Dover, I declare. She has not seen us yet. She is short-sighted.
+Come here.” And the impetuous maid dragged him off behind a tuft of
+foliage.
+
+When she had got him there she said hotly that it was too bad.
+
+“Oh, is it?” said he, very calmly. “What?”
+
+“Why, don't you see what she has done? You, so sensible, to be so slow
+about women's ways; and you are always pretending to know them. Why, she
+has gone and bought that costume with the money you gave her to play
+with.”
+
+“Sensible girl!”
+
+“Dishonest girl, _I_ call her.”
+
+“There you go to your big words. No, no. A little money was given her for
+a bad purpose. She has used it for a frivolous one. That is 'a step in
+the right direction'--jargon of the day.”
+
+“But to receive money for one purpose, and apply it to another, is--what
+do you call it--_chose?--de'tournement des fonds_--what is the English
+word? I've been abroad till I've forgotten English. Oh, I
+know--embezzlement.”
+
+“Well, that is a big word for a small transaction; you have not dug in
+the mine of the vernacular for nothing.”
+
+“Harrington, if you don't mind, I do; so please come. I'll talk to her.”
+
+“Stop a moment,” said Vizard, very gravely. “You will not say one word to
+her.”
+
+“And why not, pray?”
+
+“Because it would be unworthy of us, and cruel to her; barbarously cruel.
+What! call her to account before that old woman and me?”
+
+“Why not? She is flaunting her blues before you two, and plenty more.”
+
+“Feminine logic, Zoe. The point is this--she is poor. You must know that.
+This comes of poverty and love of dress; not of dishonesty and love of
+dress; and just ask yourself, is there a creature that ought to be pitied
+more and handled more delicately than a _poor lady?_ Why, you would make
+her writhe with shame and distress! Well, I do think there is not a
+single wild animal so cruel to another wild animal as a woman is to a
+woman. You are cruel to one another by instinct. But I appeal to your
+reason--if you have any.”
+
+Zoe's eyes filled. “You are right,” said she, humbly. “Thank you for
+thinking for me. I will not say a word to her before _you.”_
+
+“That is a good girl. But, come now, why say a word at all?”
+
+“Oh, it is no use your demanding impossibilities, dear. I could no more
+help speaking to her than I could fly; and don't go fancying she will
+care a pin what I say, if I don't say it before _a gentleman.”_
+
+Having given him this piece of information, she left her ambush, and
+proceeded to meet the all-unconscious blue girl; but, even as they went,
+Vizard returned to his normal condition, and doled out, rather
+indolently, that they were out on pleasure, and might possibly miss the
+object of the excursion if they were to encourage a habit of getting into
+rages about nothing.
+
+Zoe was better than her word. She met Fanny with open admiration: to be
+sure, she knew that apathy, or even tranquillity, on first meeting the
+blues, would be instantly set down to envy.
+
+“And where did you get it, dear?”
+
+“At quite a small shop.”
+
+“French?”
+
+“Oh, no; I think she was an Austrian. This is not a French mixture: loud,
+discordant colors, that is the French taste.”
+
+“Here is heresy,” said Vizard. “Why, I thought the French beat the world
+in dress.”
+
+“Yes, dear,” said Zoe, “in form and pattern. But Fanny is right; they
+make mistakes in color. They are terribly afraid of scarlet; but they are
+afraid of nothing else: and many of their mixtures are as discordant to
+the eye as Wagner's music to the ear. Now, after all, scarlet is the king
+of colors; and there is no harm in King Scarlet, if you treat him with
+respect and put a modest subject next to him.”
+
+“Gypsy locks, for instance,” suggested Fanny, slyly.
+
+Miss Maitland owned herself puzzled. “In my day,” said she, “no one ever
+thought of putting blue upon blue; but really, somehow, it looks well.”
+
+“May I tell you why, aunt?--because the dress-maker had a real eye, and
+has chosen the right tints of blue. It is all nonsense about one color
+not going with another. Nature defies that; and how? by choosing the very
+tints of each color that will go together. The sweetest room I ever saw
+was painted by a great artist; and, do you know, he had colored the
+ceiling blue and the walls green: and I assure you the effect was
+heavenly: but, then, he had chosen the exact tints of green and blue that
+would go together. The draperies were between crimson and maroon. But
+there's another thing in Fanny's dress; it is velvet. Now, blue velvet is
+blue to the mind; but it is not blue to the eye. You try and paint blue
+velvet; you will be surprised how much white you must lay on. The high
+lights of all velvets are white. This white helps to blend the two tints
+of blue.”
+
+“This is very instructive,” said Vizard. “I was not aware I had a sister,
+youthful, but profound. Let us go in and dine.”
+
+Fanny demurred. She said she believed Miss Maitland wished to take one
+turn round the grounds first.
+
+Miss Maitland stared, but assented in a mechanical way; and they
+commenced their promenade.
+
+Zoe hung back and beckoned her brother. “Miss Maitland!” said she, with
+such an air. _“She_ wants to show her blues to all the world and his
+wife.”
+
+“Very natural,” said Vizard. “So would you, if you were in a scarlet
+gown, with a crimson cloak.”
+
+Zoe laughed heartily at this, and forgave Fanny her new dress: but she
+had a worse bone than that to pick with her.
+
+It was a short but agreeable promenade to Zoe, for now they were alone,
+her brother, instead of sneering, complimented her.
+
+“Never you mind my impertinence,” said he; “the truth is, I am proud of
+you. You are an observer.”
+
+“Me? Oh--in color.”
+
+“Never mind: an observer is an observer; and genuine observation is not
+so common. Men see and hear with their prejudices and not their senses.
+Now we are going to those gaming-tables. At first, of course, you will
+play; but, as soon as ever you are cleaned out, observe! Let nothing
+escape that woman's eye of yours: and so we'll get something for our
+money.”
+
+“Harrington,” said the girl proudly, “I will be all eye and ear.”
+
+Soon after this they went in to dinner. Zoe cast her eyes round for
+Severne, and was manifestly disappointed at his not meeting them even
+there.
+
+As for Fanny, she had attracted wonderful attention in the garden, and
+was elated; her conscience did not prick her in the least, for such a
+trifle as _de'tournement des fonds;_ and public admiration did not
+improve her: she was sprightly and talkative as usual; but now she was
+also a trifle brazen, and pert all round.
+
+And so the dinner passed, and they proceeded to the gaming-tables.
+
+Miss Maitland and Zoe led. Fanny and Harrington followed: for Miss Dover,
+elated by the blues--though, by-the-by, one hears of them as
+depressing--and encouraged by admiration and Chevet's violet-perfumed St.
+Peray, took Harrington's arm, really as if it belonged to her.
+
+They went into the library first, and, after a careless inspection, came
+to the great attraction of the place. They entered one of the
+gambling-rooms.
+
+The first impression was disappointing. There were two very long tables,
+rounded off at the ends: one for _trente et quarante_ and one for
+_roulette._ At each table were seated a number of persons, and others
+standing behind them. Among the persons seated was the dealer, or, in
+roulette, the spinner. This official sat in the center, flanked on each
+side by croupiers with rakes; but at each end of the table there was also
+a croupier with his rake.
+
+The rest were players or lookers-on; most of whom, by well-known
+gradations of curiosity and weakness, to describe which minutely would be
+to write a little comedy that others have already written, were drawn
+into playing at last. So fidgets the moth about the candle before he
+makes up what, no doubt, the poor little soul calls his mind.
+
+Our little party stopped first at _trente et quarante,_ and Zoe commenced
+her observations. Instead of the wild excitement she had heard of, there
+was a subdued air, a forced quiet, especially among the seated players. A
+stern etiquette presided, and the gamblers shrouded themselves in
+well-bred stoicism--losing without open distress or ire, winning without
+open exultation. The old hands, especially, began play with a padlock on
+the tongue and a mask upon the face. There are masks, however, that do
+not hide the eye; and Miss Vizard caught some flashes that escaped the
+masks even then at the commencement of the play. Still, external stoicism
+prevailed, on the whole, and had a fixed example in the _tailleur_ and
+the croupiers. Playing many hours every day in the year but Good-Friday,
+and always with other people's money, these men had parted with passion,
+and almost with sensation; they had become skillful automata, chanting a
+stave, and raking up or scattering hay-cocks of gold, which to them were
+counters.
+
+It was with the monotonous voice of an automaton they intoned:
+
+“Faites le jeu, messieu, messieu.”
+
+Then, after a pause of ten seconds:
+
+“Le jeu est fait, messieu.”
+
+Then, after two seconds:
+
+“Rien ne va plus.”
+
+Then mumble--mumble--mumble.
+
+Then, “La' Rouge perd et couleur,” or whatever might be the result.
+
+Then the croupiers first raked in the players' losses with vast
+expedition; next, the croupiers in charge of the funds chucked the
+precise amount of the winnings on to each stake with unerring dexterity
+and the indifference of machines; and the chant recommenced, “Faites le
+jeu, messieu.”
+
+Pause, ten seconds.
+
+“Le jeu est fait, messieu.”
+
+Pause, two seconds.
+
+“Rien ne va plus.”
+
+The _tailleur_ dealt, and the croupier intoned, “La'! Rouge gagne et
+couleur perd:” the mechanical raking and dexterous chucking followed.
+
+This, with a low buzzing, and the deadened jingle of gold upon green
+cloth, and the light grating of the croupiers' rakes, was the first
+impression upon Zoe's senses; but the mere game did not monopolize her
+attention many seconds. There were other things better worth noting: the
+great varieties of human type that a single passion had brought together
+in a small German town. Her ear was regaled with such a polyglot murmur
+as she had read of in Genesis, but had never witnessed before.
+
+Here were the sharp Tuscan and the mellow Roman; the sibilation of
+England, the brogue of Ireland, the shibboleth of the Minories, the twang
+of certain American States, the guttural expectoration of Germany, the
+nasal emphasis of France, and even the modulated Hindoostanee, and the
+sonorous Spanish, all mingling.
+
+The types of face were as various as the tongues.
+
+Here were the green-eyed Tartar, the black-eyed Italian, and the
+gray-eyed Saxon; faces all cheek-bones, and faces no cheek-bones; the red
+Arabian, the fair Dane, and the dark Hindoo.
+
+Her woman's eye seized another phenomenon--the hands. Not nations only,
+but varieties of the animal kingdom were represented. Here were the white
+hands of fair women, and the red paws of obese shop-keepers, and the
+yellow, bird-like claws of old withered gamesters, all stretched out,
+side by side, in strange contrast, to place the stakes or scratch in the
+winnings; and often the winners put their palms or paws on their heap of
+gold, just as a dog does on a bone when other dogs are nigh.
+
+But what Zoe's eye rested on longest were the costume and deportment of
+the ladies. A few were in good taste; others aimed at a greater variety
+of beautiful colors than the fair have, up to this date, succeeded in
+combining, without inflicting more pain on the beholders than a
+beneficent Creator--so far as we can judge by his own system of
+color--intended the cultivated eye to suffer. Example--as the old writers
+used to say--one lady fired the air in primrose satin, with red-velvet
+trimming. This mild mixture re-appeared on her head in a primrose hat
+with a red feather. A gold chain, so big that it would have done for a
+felon instead of a fool, encircled her neck, and was weighted with
+innumerable lockets, which in size and inventive taste resembled a
+poached egg, and betrayed the insular goldsmith. A train three yards long
+completed this gorgeous figure. She had commenced life a shrimp-girl, and
+pushed a dredge before her, instead of pulling a silken besom after her.
+Another stately queen (with an “a”) heated the atmosphere with a burnous
+of that color the French call _flamme d'enfer,_ and cooled it with a
+green bonnet. A third appeared to have been struck with the beauty of a
+painter's palette, and the skill with which its colors mix before the
+brush spoils them. Green body, violet skirts, rose-colored trimmings,
+purple sleeves, light green boots, lavender gloves. A shawl all gauze and
+gold, flounced like a petticoat; a bonnet so small, and red feather so
+enormous and all-predominant, that a peacock seemed to be sitting on a
+hedge sparrow's nest.
+
+Zoe suspected these polychromatic ladies at a glance, and observed their
+manners, in a mistrustful spirit, carefully. She was little surprised,
+though a good deal shocked, to find that some of them seemed familiar,
+and almost jocular, with the croupiers; and that, although they did not
+talk loud, being kept in order by the general etiquette, they rustled and
+fidgeted and played in a devil-may-care sort of manner. This was in great
+measure accounted for by the circumstance that they were losing other
+people's money: at all events, they often turned their heads over their
+shoulders, and applied for fresh funds to their male companions.
+
+Zoe blushed at all this, and said to Vizard, “I should like to see the
+other rooms.” She whispered to Miss Maitland, “Surely they are not very
+select in this one.”
+
+“Lead on,” said Vizard; “that is the way.”
+
+Fanny had not parted with his arm all this time. As they followed the
+others, he said, “But she will find it is all the same thing.”
+
+Fanny laughed in his face. “Don't you _see?_ C'est la chasse au Severne
+qui commence.”
+
+“En voil'a un se'v'ere,” replied he.
+
+She was mute. She had not learned that sort of French in her
+finishing-school. I forgive it.
+
+The next room was the same thing over again.
+
+Zoe stood a moment and drank everything in, then turned to Vizard,
+blushed, and said, “May we play a little now?”
+
+“Why, of course.”
+
+“Fanny!”
+
+“No; you begin, dear. We will stand by and wish you success.”
+
+“You are a coward,” said Zoe, loftily; and went to the table with more
+changes of color than veteran lancers betray in charging infantry. It was
+the _roulette_ table she chose. That seems a law of her sex. The true
+solution is not so profound as some that have been offered. It is this:
+_trente et quarante_ is not only unintelligible, but uninteresting. At
+_roulette_ there is a pictorial object and dramatic incident; the board,
+the turning of the _moulinet,_ and the swift revolutions of an ivory
+ball, its lowered speed, its irregular bounds, and its final settlement
+in one of the many holes, numbered and colored. Here the female
+understanding sees something it can grasp, and, above all, the female eye
+catches something pictorial and amusing outside the loss or gain; and so
+she goes, by her nature, to _roulette,_ which is a greater swindle than
+the other.
+
+Zoe staked five pounds on No. 21, for an excellent reason; she was in her
+twenty-first year. The ball was so illogical as to go into No. 3, and she
+lost. She stood by her number and lost again. She lost thirteen times in
+succession.
+
+The fourteenth time the ball rolled into 21, and the croupier handed her
+thirty-five times her stake, and a lot more for color.
+
+Her eye flashed, and her cheek flushed, and I suppose she was tempted to
+bet more heavily, for she said, “No. That will never happen to me again,
+I know;” and she rose, the richer by several napoleons, and said, “Now
+let us go to another.”
+
+“Humph!” said Vizard. “What an extraordinary girl! She will give the
+devil more trouble than most of you. Here's precocious prudence.”
+
+Fanny laughed in his face. “C'est la chasse qui recommence,” said she.
+
+I ought to explain that when she was in England she did not interlard her
+discourse with French scraps. She was not so ill-bred. But abroad she had
+got into a way of it, through being often compelled to speak French.
+
+Vizard appreciated the sagacity of the remark, but he did not like the
+lady any the better for it. He meditated in silence. He remembered that,
+when they were in the garden. Zoe had hung behind, and interpreted Fanny
+ill-naturedly; and here was Fanny at the same game, literally backbiting,
+or back-nibbling, at all events. Said he to himself, “And these two are
+friends! female friends.” And he nursed his misogyny in silence.
+
+They came into a very noble room, the largest of all, with enormous
+mirrors down to the ground, and a ceiling blazing with gold, and the air
+glittering with lusters. Two very large tables, and a distinguished
+company at each, especially at the _trente et quarante._
+
+Before our little party had taken six steps into the room, Zoe stood like
+a pointer; and Fanny backed.
+
+Should these terms seem disrespectful, let Fanny bear the blame. It is
+her application of the word “chasse” that drew down the simile.
+
+Yes, there sat Ned Severne, talking familiarly to Joseph Ashmead, and
+preparing to “put the pot on,” as he called it.
+
+Now Zoe was so far gone that the very sight of Severne was a balsam to
+her. She had a little bone to pick with him; and when he was out of
+sight, the bone seemed pretty large. But when she saw his adorable face,
+unconscious, as it seemed, of wrong, the bone faded and the face shone.
+
+Her own face cleared at the sight of him: she turned back to Fanny and
+Vizard, arch and smiling, and put her finger to her mouth, as much as to
+say, “Let us have some fun. We have caught our truant: let us watch him,
+unseen, a little, before we burst on him.”
+
+Vizard enjoyed this, and encouraged her with a nod.
+
+The consequence was that Zoe dropped Miss Maitland's arm, who took that
+opportunity to turn up her nose, and began to creep up like a young cat
+after a bird; taking a step, and then pausing; then another step, and a
+long pause; and still with her eye fixed on Severne. He did not see her,
+nor her companions, partly because they were not in front of him, but
+approaching at a sharp angle, and also because he was just then beginning
+to bet heavily on his system. By this means, two progressive events went
+on contemporaneously: the arch but cat-like advance of Zoe, with pauses,
+and the betting of Severne, in which he gave himself the benefit of his
+system.
+
+_Noir_ having been the last to win, he went against the alternation and
+put fifty pounds on _noir._ Red won. Then, true to his system, he doubled
+on the winning color. One hundred pounds on red. Black won. He doubled on
+black, and red won; and there were four hundred pounds of his five
+hundred gone in five minutes.
+
+On this proof that the likeliest thing to happen--viz., alternation of
+the color--does _sometime_ happen, Severne lost heart.
+
+He turned to Ashmead, with all the superstition of a gambler, “For God's
+sake, bet for me!” said he. He clutched his own hair convulsively, in a
+struggle with his mania, and prevailed so far as to thrust fifty pounds
+into his own pocket, to live on, and gave Ashmead five tens.
+
+“Well, but,” said Ashmead, “you must tell me what to do.”
+
+“No, no. Bet your own way, for me.” He had hardly uttered these words,
+when he seemed to glare across the table at the great mirror, and,
+suddenly putting his handkerchief to his mouth, he made a bolt sidewise,
+plunged amid the bystanders, and emerged only to dash into a room at the
+side.
+
+As he disappeared, a lady came slowly and pensively forward from the
+outer door; lifted her eyes as she neared the table, saw a vacant chair,
+and glided into it, revealing to Zoe Vizard and her party a noble face,
+not so splendid and animated as on the stage, for its expression was
+slumbering; still it was the face of Ina Klosking.
+
+
+No transformation trick was ever done more neatly and smoothly than this,
+in which, nevertheless, the performers acted without concert.
+
+Severne fled out, and the Klosking came slowly in; yet no one had time to
+take the seat, she glided into it so soon after Severne had vacated it.
+
+Zoe Vizard and her friends stared after the flying Severne, then stared
+at the newcomer, and then turned round and stared at each other, in
+mutual amazement and inquiry.
+
+What was the meaning of this double incident, that resembled a conjurer's
+trick? Having looked at her companions, and seen only her own surprise
+reflected, Zoe Vizard fixed her eyes, like burning-glasses, upon Ina
+Klosking.
+
+Then that lady thickened the mystery. She seemed very familiar with the
+man Severne had been so familiar with.
+
+That man contributed his share to the multiplying mystery. He had a muddy
+complexion, hair the color of dirt, a long nose, a hatchet face, mean
+little eyes, and was evidently not a gentleman. He wore a brown velveteen
+shooting-coat, with a magenta tie that gave Zoe a pain in the eye. She
+had already felt sorry to see her Severne was acquainted with such a man.
+He seemed to her the _ne plus ultra_ of vulgarity; and now, behold, the
+artist, the woman she had so admired, was equally familiar with the same
+objectionable person.
+
+To appreciate the hopeless puzzle of Zoe Vizard, the reader must be on
+his guard against his own knowledge. He knows that Severne and Ashmead
+were two Bohemians, who had struck up acquaintance, all in a minute, that
+very evening. But Zoe had not this knowledge, and she could not possibly
+divine it. The whole thing was presented to her senses thus: a vulgar
+man, with a brown velveteen shooting-coat and a red-hot tie was a mutual
+friend of the gentlemanly Severne and the dignified Klosking. Severne
+left the mutual friend; Mademoiselle Klosking joined the mutual friend;
+and there she sat, where Severne had sat a moment ago, by the side of
+their mutual friend.
+
+All manner of thoughts and surmises thronged upon Zoe Vizard; but each
+way of accounting for the mystery contradicted some plain fact or other;
+so she was driven at last to a woman's remedy. She would wait, and watch.
+Severne would probably come back, and somehow furnish the key. Meantime
+her eye was not likely to leave the Klosking, nor her ear to miss a
+syllable the Klosking might utter.
+
+She whispered to Vizard, in a very peculiar tone, “I will play at this
+table,” and stepped up to it, with the word.
+
+The duration of such beauty as Zoe's is proverbially limited; but the
+limit to its power, while it does last, has not yet been discovered. It
+is a fact that, as soon as she came close to the table two male gamblers
+looked up, saw her, wondered at her, and actually jumped up and offered
+their seats: she made a courteous inclination of the head, and installed
+Miss Maitland in one seat, without reserve. She put a little gold on the
+table, and asked Miss Maitland, in a whisper, to play for her. She
+herself had neither eye nor ear except for Ina Klosking. That lady was
+having a discussion, _sotto voce,_ with Ashmead; and if she had been one
+of your mumblers whose name is legion, even Zoe's swift ear could have
+caught little or nothing. But when a voice has volume, and the great
+habit of articulation has been brought to perfection, the words travel
+surprisingly.
+
+Zoe heard the lady say to Ashmead, scarcely above her breath, “Well, but
+if he requested you to bet for him, how can he blame you?”
+
+Zoe could not catch Ashmead's reply, but it was accompanied by a shake of
+the head; so she understood him to object.
+
+Then, after a little more discussion, Ina Klosking said, “What money have
+you of mine?”
+
+Ashmead produced some notes.
+
+“Very well,” said the Klosking. “Now, I shall take my twenty-five pounds,
+and twenty-five pounds of his, and play. When he returns, we shall, at
+all events, have twenty-five pounds safe for him. I take the
+responsibility.”
+
+“Oh,” thought Zoe; “then he _is_ coming back. Ah, I shall see what all
+this means.” She felt sick at heart.
+
+Zoe Vizard was on the other side, but not opposite Mademoiselle Klosking;
+she was considerably to the right hand; and as the new-comer was much
+occupied, just at first, with Ashmead, who sat on her left, Zoe had time
+to dissect her, which she did without mercy. Well, her costume was
+beautifully made, and fitted on a symmetrical figure; but as to color, it
+was neutral--a warm French gray, and neither courted admiration nor
+risked censure: it was unpretending. Her lace collar was valuable, but
+not striking. Her hair was beautiful, both in gloss and color, and
+beautifully, but neatly, arranged. Her gloves and wristbands were
+perfect.
+
+As every woman aims at appearance, openly or secretly, and every other
+woman knows she does, Zoe did not look at this meek dress with male
+simplicity, unsuspicious of design, but asked herself what was the
+leading motive; and the question was no sooner asked than answered. “She
+has dressed for her golden hair and her white throat. Her hair, her deep
+gray eyes, and her skin, are just like a flower: she has dressed herself
+as the modest stalk. She is an artist.”
+
+At the same table were a Russian princess, an English countess, and a
+Bavarian duchess--all well dressed, upon the whole. But their dresses
+showed off their dresses; the Klosking's showed off herself. And there
+was a native dignity, and, above all, a wonderful seemliness, about the
+Klosking that inspired respect. Dress and deportment were all of a
+piece--decent and deep.
+
+While Zoe was picking her to pieces, Ina, having settled matters with
+Ashmead, looked up, and, of course, took in every other woman who was in
+sight at a single sweep. She recognized Zoe directly, with a flush of
+pleasure; a sweet, bright expression broke over her face, and she bowed
+to her with a respectful cordiality that was captivating.
+
+Zoe yielded to the charm of manner, and bowed and smiled in return,
+though, till that moment, she had been knitting her black brows at her in
+wonder and vague suspicion.
+
+Ina trifled with the game, at first. Ashmead was still talking to her of
+the young swell and his system. He explained it to her, and how it had
+failed. “Not but what,” said he, “there is a great deal in it most
+evenings. But to-day there are no runs; it is all turn and turn about. If
+it would rain, now, you would see a change.”
+
+“Well,” said Ina, “I will bet a few pounds on red, then on black, till
+these runs begin.”
+
+During the above conversation, of which Zoe caught little, because
+Ashmead was the chief speaker, she cast her eyes all round the table and
+saw a curious assemblage of figures.
+
+There was a solemn Turk melting his piasters with admirable gravity;
+there was the Russian princess; and there was a lady, dressed in loud,
+incongruous colors, such as once drew from a horrified modiste the cry,
+“Ah, Dieu! quelle immoralite'!” and that's a fact. There was a Popish
+priest, looking sheepish as he staked his silver, and an Anglican rector,
+betting flyers, and as _nonchalant,_ in the blest absence of his flock
+and the Baptist minister, as if he were playing at whist with the old
+Bishop of Norwich, who played a nightly rubber in my father's day--and a
+very bad one. There was a French count, nearly six feet high, to whom the
+word “old” would have been unjust: he was antique, and had turned into
+bones and leather; but the hair on that dilapidated trunk was its own;
+and Zoe preferred him much to the lusty old English beau beside him, with
+ivory teeth and ebon locks that cost a pretty penny.
+
+There was a fat, livid Neapolitan betting heavily; there was a creole
+lady, with a fine oval face, rather sallow, and eyes and hair as black as
+Zoe's own. Indeed, the creole excelled her, by the addition of a little
+black fringe upon her upper lip that, prejudice apart, became her very
+well. Her front hair was confined by two gold threads a little way apart,
+on which were fixed a singular ornament, the vivid eyes of a peacock's
+tail set close together all round. It was glorious, regal. The hussy
+should have been the Queen of Sheba, receiving Solomon, and showing her
+peacock's eyes against his crown-jewels. Like the lilies of the field,
+these products of nature are bad to beat, as we say on Yorkshire turf.
+
+Indeed that frontlet was so beautiful and well placed, it drew forth
+glances of marked disdain from every lady within sight of it, Zoe
+excepted. She was placable. This was a lesson in color; and she managed
+to forgive the teacher, in consideration of the lesson.
+
+Amid the gaudier birds, there was a dove--a young lady, well dressed,
+with Quaker-like simplicity, in gray silk dress with no trimmings, a
+white silk bonnet and veil. Her face was full of virtues. Meeting her
+elsewhere, you would say “That is a good wife, a good daughter, and the
+making of a good mother.” Her expression at the table was thoughtful and
+a little anxious; but every now and then she turned her head to look for
+her husband, and gave him so sweet a smile of conjugal sympathy and
+affection as made Zoe almost pray they might win. The husband was an
+officer, a veteran, with grizzled hair and mustache, a colonel who had
+commanded a brigade in action, but could only love and spoil his wife. He
+ought to have been her father, her friend, her commander, and marched her
+out of that “curse-all” to the top of Cader Idris, if need was. Instead
+of that, he stood behind her chair like her lackey all day: for his dove
+was as desperate a gambler as any in Europe. It was not that she bet very
+heavily, but that she bet every day and all day. She began in the
+afternoon, and played till midnight if there was a table going. She knew
+no day of religion--no day of rest. She won, and she lost: her own
+fortune and her husband's stood the money drain; but how about the golden
+hours? She was losing her youth and wasting her soul. Yet the
+administration gave her a warning; they did not allow the irretrievable
+hours to be stolen from her with a noiseless hand. At All Souls' College,
+Oxford, in the first quadrangle, grave, thoughtful men raised to the top
+story, two hundred years ago, a grand sundial, the largest, perhaps, and
+noblest in the kingdom. They set it on the face of the Quad, and wrote
+over the long pointer in large letters of gold, these words, “Pereunt et
+imputantur,” which refer to the hours indicated below, and mean
+literally, “They perish, and go down to our account;” but really imply a
+little more, viz., that “they are wasted, and go to our debit.” These are
+true words and big words--bigger than any royal commissioner has uttered
+up to date--and reach the mind through the senses, and have warned the
+scholars of many a generation not to throw away the seed-time of their
+youth, which never can come twice to any man. Well, the administration of
+the Kursaal conveyed to that lost English dove and others a note of
+warning which struck the senses, as does the immortal warning emblazoned
+on the fair brow of that beautiful college; only, in the Kursaal the
+warning struck the ear, not the eye. They provided French clocks with a
+singularly clear metallic striking tick; their blows upon the life of
+Time rang sharp above the chant, the mumble, and the jingle. These clocks
+seemed to cry aloud, and say of the hours, whose waste they recorded,
+“Pereunt - et - impu-tantur, pere - unt - et - imputantur.”
+
+Reckless of this protest, the waves of play rolled on, and ere long
+sucked all our characters but Vizard into the vortex. Zoe hazarded a
+sovereign on red, and won; then two on black, and won; then four on red,
+and won. She was launched, and Fanny too. They got excited, and bet
+higher; the croupiers pelted them with golden coins, and they began to
+pant and flush, and their eyes to gleam. The old gamblers' eyes seem to
+have lost this power--they have grown fishy; but the eyes of these female
+novices were a sight. Fanny's, being light gray, gleamed like a panther's
+whose prey is within leap. Zoe's dark orbs could not resemble any wild
+beast's; but they glowed with unholy fire; and, indeed, all down the
+table was now seen that which no painter can convey--for his beautiful
+but contracted art confines him to a moment of time--and writers have
+strangely neglected to notice, viz., the _progress of the countenance_
+under play. Many of the masks melted, as if they had been of wax, and the
+natural expressions forced their way; some got flushed with triumph,
+others wild and haggard with their losses. One ghastly, glaring loser sat
+quite quiet, when his all was gone, but clinched his hands so that the
+nails ran into the flesh, and blood trickled: discovering which, a friend
+dragged him off like something dead. Nobody minded.
+
+The fat old beau got worried by his teeth and pulled them out in a pet
+and pocketed them.
+
+Miss Maitland, who had begun with her gray hair in neat little curls,
+deranged one so with convulsive hand that it came all down her cheek, and
+looked most rakish and unbecoming. Even Zoe and Fanny had turned from
+lambs to leopardesses--patches of red on each cheek, and eyes like
+red-hot coals.
+
+The colors had begun to run, and at first the players lost largely to the
+bank, with one exception.
+
+Ina Klosking discerned the change, and backed the winning color, then
+doubled on it twice. She did this so luckily three or four times that,
+though her single stake was at first only forty pounds, gold seemed to
+grow around her, and even notes to rise and make a cushion. She, too, was
+excited, though not openly; her gloves were off, and her own lovely hand,
+the whitest in the room, placed the stakes. You might see a red spot on
+her cheek-bone, and a strange glint in her deep eye; but she could not do
+anything that was not seemly.
+
+She played calmly, boldly, on the system that had cleared out Ned
+Severne, and she won heavily, because she was in luck. It was her hour
+and her vein.
+
+By this time Zoe and Fanny were cleaned out; and looked in amazement at
+the Klosking, and wondered how she did it.
+
+Miss Maitland, at her last sovereign, began to lean on the victorious
+Klosking, and bet as she did: her pile increased. The dove caught sight
+of her game, and backed her luck. The creole backed her heavily.
+
+Presently there was an extraordinary run on black. Numbers were caught.
+The Klosking won three times, and lost three times; but the bets she won
+were double bets, and those she lost were single.
+
+Then came a _refait,_ and the bank swept off half her stake; but even
+here she was lucky. She had only forty pounds on.
+
+By-and-by came the event of the night. Black had for some time appeared
+to rule the roost, and thrust red off the table, and the Klosking lost
+two hundred pounds.
+
+The Klosking put two hundred pounds on red: it won. She doubled: red won.
+She doubled: there was a dead silence. The creole lady put the maximum on
+red, three hundred pounds: red won. Ina Klosking looked a little pale;
+but, driven by some unaccountable impulse, she doubled. So did the
+creole. Red won. The automata chucked sixteen hundred pounds to the
+Klosking, and six hundred pounds to the other lady. Ina bet forty pounds
+on black. Red won again. She put two hundred pounds on black: black won.
+She doubled: black won again. She doubled: black won. Doubled again:
+black won.
+
+The creole and others stood with her in that last run, and the money was
+chucked. But the settlement was followed by a short whisper, and a
+croupier, in a voice as mechanical as ever, chanted that the sum set
+apart for that table was exhausted for that day.
+
+The Klosking and her backers had broken the bank.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THERE was a buzzing, and a thronging round the victorious player.
+
+Ina rose, and, with a delicate movement of her milk-white hand, turned
+the mountain of gold and column of notes toward Ashmead. “Make haste,
+please,” she whispered; then put on her gloves deliberately, while
+Ashmead shoved the gold and the notes anyhow into the inner pockets of
+his shooting-jacket, and buttoned it well up.
+
+_“Allons,”_ said she, calmly, and took his arm; but, as she moved away,
+she saw Zoe Vizard passing on the other side of the table. Their eyes
+met: she dropped Ashmead's arm and made her a sweeping courtesy full of
+polite consideration, and a sort of courteous respect for the person
+saluted, coupled with a certain dignity, and then she looked wistfully at
+her a moment. I believe she would have spoken to her if she had been
+alone; but Miss Maitland and Fanny Dover had, both of them, a trick of
+putting on _noli-me-tangere_ faces among strangers. It did not mean much;
+it is an unfortunate English habit. But it repels foreigners: they
+neither do it nor understand it.
+
+Those two faces, not downright forbidding, but uninviting, turned the
+scale; and the Klosking, who was not a forward woman, did not yield to
+her inclination and speak to Zoe. She took Ashmead's arm again and moved
+away.
+
+Then Zoe turned back and beckoned Vizard. He joined her. “There she is,”
+ said Zoe; “shall I speak to her?”
+
+Would you believe it? He thought a moment, and then said, gloomily,
+“Well, no. Half cured now. Seen the lover in time.” So that opportunity
+was frittered away.
+
+Before the English party left the Kursaal, Zoe asked, timidly, if they
+ought not to make some inquiry about Mr. Severne. He had been taken ill
+again.
+
+“Ay, taken ill, and gone to be cured at another table,” said Vizard,
+ironically. “I'll make the tour, and collar him.”
+
+He went off in a hurry; Miss Maitland faced a glass and proceeded to
+arrange her curl.
+
+Fanny, though she had offered no opposition to Vizard's going, now seized
+Zoe's arm with unusual energy, and almost dragged her aside. “The idea of
+sending Harrington on that fool's errand!” said she, peevishly. “Why,
+Zoe! where are your eyes?”
+
+Zoe showed her by opening them wide. “What _do_ you mean?”
+
+“What--do--I--mean? No matter. Mr. Severne is not in this building, and
+you know it.”
+
+“How can I know? All is so mysterious,” faltered Zoe. “How do _you_
+know?”
+
+“Because--there--least said is soonest mended.”
+
+“Fanny, you are older than me, and ever so much cleverer. Tell me, or you
+are not my friend.”
+
+“Wait till you get home, then. Here he is.”
+
+Vizard told them he had been through all the rooms; the only chance now
+was the dining-room. “No,” said Fanny, “we wish to get home; we are
+rather tired.”
+
+They went to the rail, and at first Vizard was rather talkative, making
+his comments on the players; but the ladies were taciturn, and brought
+him to a stand. “Ah,” thought he, “nothing interests them now; Adonis is
+not here.” So he retired within himself.
+
+When they reached the Russie, he ordered a _petit souper_ in an hour, and
+invited the ladies. Meantime they retired--Miss Maitland to her room, and
+Fanny, with Zoe, to hers. By this time Miss Dover had lost her alacrity,
+and would, I verily believe, have shunned a _te'te-'a-te'te_ if she
+could; but there was a slight paleness in Zoe's cheek, and a compression
+of the lips, which told her plainly that young lady meant to have it out
+with her. They both knew so well what was coming, that Zoe merely waved
+her to a chair and leaned herself against the bed, and said, “Now,
+Fanny.” So Fanny was brought to bay.
+
+“Dear me,” said she piteously, “I don't know what to do, between you and
+Aunt Maitland. If I say all I think, I suppose you will hate me; and if I
+don't, I shall be told I'm wicked, and don't warn an orphan girl. She
+flew at me like a bull-dog before your brother: she said I was
+twenty-five, and I only own to twenty-three. And, after all, what could I
+say? for I do feel I ought to give you the benefit of my experience, and
+make myself as disagreeable as _she_ does. And I _have_ given you a hint,
+and a pretty broad one, but you want such plain speaking.”
+
+“I do,” said Zoe. “So please speak plainly, if you can.”
+
+“Ah, you _say_ that.”
+
+“And I mean it. Never mind consequences; tell me the truth.”
+
+“Like a man, eh? and get hated.”
+
+“Men are well worth imitating, in some things. Tell me the truth,
+pleasant or not, and I shall always respect you.”
+
+“Bother respect. I am like the rest of us; I want to be loved a little
+bit. But there--I'm in for it. I have said too much, or too little. I
+know that. Well, Zoe, the long and the short is--you have a rival.”
+
+Zoe turned rather pale, but was not so much shaken as Fanny expected.
+
+She received the blow in silence. But after a while she said, with some
+firmness, “Mademoiselle Klosking?”
+
+“Oh, you are not quite blind, then.”
+
+“And pray which does he prefer?” asked Zoe, a little proudly.
+
+“It is plain he likes you the best. But why does he fear her so? This is
+where you seem all in the dark. He flew out of the opera, lest she should
+see him.”
+
+“Oh! Absurd!”
+
+“He cut you and Vizard, rather than call upon her with you.”
+
+“And so he did.”
+
+“He flew from the gambling-table the moment she entered the room.”
+
+“Behind him. She came in behind him.”
+
+“There was a large mirror in front of him.”
+
+“Oh, Fanny! oh!” and Zoe clasped her hands piteously. But she recovered
+herself, and said, “After all, appearances are deceitful.”
+
+“Not so deceitful as men,” said Fanny, sharply.
+
+But Zoe clung to her straw. “Might not two things happen together? He is
+subject to bleeding at the nose. It is strange it should occur twice so,
+but it is possible.”
+
+“Zoe,” said Fanny, gravely, “he is not subject to bleeding at the nose.”
+
+“Oh, _then_--but how can you know that? What right have you to say that?”
+
+“I'll show you,” said Fanny, and left the room.
+
+She soon came back, holding something behind her back. Even at the last
+moment she was half unwilling. However, she looked down, and said, in a
+very peculiar tone, “Here is the handkerchief he put before his face at
+the opera; there!” and she threw it into Zoe's lap.
+
+Zoe's nature revolted against evidence so obtained. She did not even take
+up the handkerchief. “What!” she cried; “you took it out of his pocket?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Then you have been in his room and got it.”
+
+_“Nothing of the kind!_ I sent Rosa.”
+
+“My maid!”
+
+“Mine, for that job. I gave her half a crown to borrow it for a pattern.”
+
+Zoe seized the handkerchief and ran her eye over it in a moment. There
+was no trace of blood on it, and there were his initials, “E. S.,” in the
+corner. Her woman's eye fastened instantly on these. “Silk?” said she,
+and held it up to the light. “No. Hair!--golden hair. It is _hers!”_ And
+she flung the handkerchief from her as if it were a viper, and even when
+on the ground eyed it with dilating orbs and a hostile horror.
+
+“La!” said Fanny; “fancy that! You are not blind now. You have seen more
+than I. I made sure it was yellow silk.”
+
+But this frivolous speech never even entered Zoe's ear. She was too
+deeply shocked. She went, feebly, and sat down in a chair, and covered
+her face with her hands.
+
+Fanny eyed her with pity. “There!” said she, almost crying, “I never tell
+the truth but I bitterly repent it.”
+
+Zoe took no notice of this droll apothegm. Her hands began to work. “What
+shall I do!” she said. “What shall I do!”
+
+“Oh, don't go on like that, Zoe!” cried Fanny. “After all, it is you he
+prefers. He ran away from her.”
+
+“Ah, yes. But why?--why? What has he done?”
+
+“Jilted her. I suppose. Aunt Maitland thinks he is after money; and, you
+know, you have got money.”
+
+“Have I nothing else?” said the proud beauty, and lifted her bowed head
+for a moment.
+
+“You have everything. But you should look things in the face. Is that
+singer an unattractive woman?”
+
+“Oh, no. But she is not poor. Her kind of talent is paid enormously.”
+
+“That is true,” said Fanny. “But perhaps she wastes it. She is a gambler,
+like himself.”
+
+“Let him go to her,” said Zoe, wildly; “I will share no man's heart.”
+
+“He will never go to her, unless--well, unless we tell him that she has
+broken the bank with his money.”
+
+“If you think so badly of him, tell him, then, and let him go. Oh, I am
+wretched--I am wretched!” She lifted her hands in despair, and began to
+cry and sob bitterly.
+
+Fanny was melted at her distress, and knelt to her, and cried with her.
+
+Not being a girl of steady principle, she went round with the wind. “Dear
+Zoe,” said she, “it is deeper than I thought. La! if you love him, why
+torment yourself?”
+
+“No,” said Zoe; “it is deceit and mystery that torment me. Oh, what shall
+I do! what shall I do!”
+
+Fanny interpreted this vague exclamation of sorrow as asking advice, and
+said, “I dare not advise you; I can only tell you what I should do in
+your place. I should make up my mind at once whether I loved the man, or
+only liked him. If I only liked him, I would turn him up at once.”
+
+“Turn him up! What is that?”
+
+“Turn him off, then. If I loved him, I would not let any other woman have
+the least little bit of a chance to get him. For instance, I would not
+let him know this old sweetheart of his has won three thousand pounds at
+least, for I noted her winnings. Diamond cut diamond, my dear. He is
+concealing from you something or other about him and this Klosking; hide
+you this one little thing about the Klosking from him, till you get my
+gentleman safe to England.”
+
+“And this is love! I call it warfare.”
+
+“And love is warfare, three times out of four. Anyway, it is for you to
+decide, Zoe. I do wish you had never seen the man. He is not what he
+seems. He is a poor adventurer, and a bundle of deceit.”
+
+“You are very hard on him. You don't know all.”
+
+“No, nor a quarter; and you know less. There, dear, dry your eyes and
+fight against it. After all, you know you are mistress of the situation.
+I'll settle it for you, which way you like.”
+
+“You will? Oh, Fanny, you are very good!”
+
+“Say indulgent, please. I'm not good, and never will be, if _I can
+possibly help._ I despise good people; they are as weak as water. But I
+do like you, Zoe Vizard, better than any other woman in the world. That
+is not saying very much; my taste is for men. I think them gods and
+devils compared with us; and I do admire gods and devils. No matter,
+dear. Kiss me, and say, 'Fanny, act for me,' and I'll do it.”
+
+Zoe kissed her, and then, by a truly virginal impulse, hid her burning
+face in her hands, and said nothing at all.
+
+Fanny gave her plenty of time, and then said, kindly, “Well, dear?”
+
+Then Zoe murmured, scarce audibly, “Act--_as if_--I loved him.”
+
+And still she kept her face covered with her hands. Fanny was anything
+but surprised at this conclusion of the struggle. She said, with a
+certain alacrity, “Very well, I will: so now bathe your eyes and come in
+to supper.”
+
+“No, no; please go and make an excuse for me.”
+
+“I shall do nothing of the kind. I won't be told by-and-by I have done
+wrong. I will do your business, but it shall be in your hearing. Then you
+can interfere, if you choose. Only you had better not put your word in
+till you see what I am driving at.”
+
+With a little more encouragement, Zoe was prevailed on to sponge her
+tearful eyes and compose herself, and join Harrington at supper.
+
+Miss Maitland soon retired, pleading fatigue and packing; and she had not
+been gone long, when Fanny gave her friend a glance and began upon
+Harrington.
+
+“You are very fond of Mr. Severne, are you not?” said she.
+
+“I am,” said Vizard, stoutly, preparing for battle. “You are not,
+perhaps.”
+
+Fanny laughed at this prompt pugnacity. “Oh, yes, I am,” said she;
+“devoted. But he has a weakness, you must own. He is rather fond of
+gambling.”
+
+“He is, I am sorry to say. It is his one fault. Most of us have two or
+three.”
+
+“Don't you think it would be a pity if he were to refuse to go with us
+tomorrow--were to prefer to stay here and gamble?”
+
+“No fear of that: he has given me his word of honor.”
+
+“Still, I think it would be hardly safe to tempt him. If you go and tell
+him that friend of his won such a lot of money, he will want to stop; and
+if he does not stop, he will go away miserable. You know they began
+betting with his money, though they went on with their own.”
+
+“Oh, did they? What was his own money?”
+
+“How much was it, Zoe?”
+
+“Fifty pounds.”
+
+“Well,” said Vizard, “you must admit it is hard he should lose his own
+money. And yet I own I am most anxious to get him away from this place.
+Indeed, I have a project; I want him to rusticate a few months at our
+place, while I set my lawyer to look into his affairs and see if his
+estate cannot be cleared. I'll be bound the farms are underlet. What does
+the Admirable Crichton know about such trifles?”
+
+Fanny looked at Zoe, whose color was rising high at all this. “Well!”
+ said she, “when you gentlemen fall in love _with each other,_ you
+certainly are faithful creatures.”
+
+“Because we can count on fidelity in return,” said Vizard. He thought a
+little, and said, “Well, as to the other thing--you leave it to me. Let
+us understand one another. Nothing we saw at the gambling-table is to be
+mentioned by us.”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Crichton is to be taken to England for his good.”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“And I am to be grateful to you for your co-operation in this.”
+
+“You can, if you like.”
+
+“And you will secure an agreeable companion for the rest of the tour,
+eh?--my diplomatic cousin and my silent sister.”
+
+“Yes; but it is too bad of you to see through a poor girl, and her little
+game, like that. I own he is a charming companion.”
+
+Fanny's cunning eyes twinkled, and Zoe blushed crimson to see her noble
+brother manipulated by this artful minx and then flattered for his
+perspicacity.
+
+From that moment a revulsion took place in her mind, and pride fought
+furiously with love--for a time.
+
+This was soon made apparent to Fanny Dover. When they retired, Zoe looked
+very gloomy; so Fanny asked, rather sharply, “Well, what is the matter
+now? Didn't I do it cleverly?”
+
+“Yes, yes, too cleverly. Oh, Fanny, I begin to revolt against myself.”
+
+“This is nice!” said Fanny. “Go on, dear. It is just what I ought to have
+expected. You were there. You had only to interfere. You didn't. And now
+you are discontented.”
+
+“Not with you. Spare me. You are not to blame, and I am very unhappy. I
+am losing my self-respect. Oh, if this goes on, I shall hate him!”
+
+“Yes, dear--for five minutes, and then love him double. Come, don't
+deceive yourself, and don't torment yourself. All your trouble, we shall
+leave it behind us to-morrow, and every hour will take us further from
+it.”
+
+With this practical view of matters, she kissed Zoe and hurried to bed.
+
+But Zoe scarcely closed her eyes all night.
+
+Severne did not reach the hotel till past eleven o'clock, and went
+straight to his own room.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+ASHMEAD accompanied Mademoiselle Klosking to her apartment. It was
+lighted, and the cloth laid for supper under the chandelier, a snow-white
+Hamburg damask. Ashmead took the winnings out of his pocket, and proudly
+piled the gold and crumpled notes in one prodigious mass upon the linen,
+that shone like satin, and made the gold look doubly inviting. Then he
+drew back and gloated on it. The Klosking, too, stood and eyed the pile
+of wealth with amazement and a certain reverence. “Let me count it,” said
+Ashmead. He did so, and it came to four thousand nine hundred and
+eighty-one pounds, English money. “And to think,” said he, “if you had
+taken my advice you would not have a penny of this!”
+
+“I'll take your advice now,” said she. “I will never gamble again.”
+
+“Well, take my advice, and lock up the swag before a creature sees it.
+Homburg is full of thieves.”
+
+She complied, and took away the money in a napkin.
+
+Ashmead called after her to know might he order supper.
+
+“If you will be so kind.”
+
+Ashmead rejoiced at this unguarded permission, and ordered a supper that
+made Karl stare.
+
+The Klosking returned in about half an hour, clad in a crisp _peignoir._
+
+Ashmead confronted her. “I have ordered a bottle of champagne,” said he.
+Her answer surprised him. “You have done well. We must now begin to prove
+the truth of the old proverb, 'Ce qui vient de la flute s'en va au
+tambour.'”
+
+At supper Mr. Ashmead was the chief drinker, and, by a natural
+consequence, the chief speaker: he held out brilliant prospects; he
+favored the Klosking with a discourse on advertising. No talent availed
+without it; large posters, pictures, window-cards, etc.; but as her
+talent was superlative, he must now endeavor to keep up with it by
+invention in his line--the puff circumstantial, the puff poetic, the puff
+anecdotal, the puff controversial, all tending to blow the fame of the
+Klosking in every eye, and ring it in every ear. “You take my advice,”
+ said he, “and devote this money, every penny of it, to Publicity. Don't
+you touch a single shiner for anything that does not return a hundred per
+cent. Publicity does, when the article is prime.”
+
+“You forget,” said she, “this money does not all belong to me. Another
+can claim half; the gentleman with whom we are in partnership.”
+
+Ashmead looked literally blue. “Nonsense!” said he, roughly. “He can only
+claim his fifty pounds.”
+
+“Nay, my friend. I took two equal sums: one was his, one mine.”
+
+“That has nothing to do with it. He told me to bet for him. I didn't; and
+I shall take him back his fifty pounds and say so. I know where to find
+him.”
+
+“Where?”
+
+“That is my business. Don't you go mad now, and break my heart.”
+
+“Well, my friend, we will talk of it tomorrow morning. It certainly is
+not very clear; and perhaps, after I have prayed and slept, I may see
+more plainly what is right.”
+
+Ashmead observed she was pale, and asked her, with concern, if she was
+ill.
+
+“No, not ill,” said she, “but worn out. My friend, I knew not at the time
+how great was my excitement; but now I am conscious that this afternoon I
+have lived a week. My very knees give way under me.”
+
+Upon this admission, Ashmead hurried her to bed.
+
+She slept soundly for some hours; but, having once awakened, she fell
+into a half-sleepless state, and was full of dreams and fancies. These
+preyed on her so, that she rose and dispatched a servant to Ashmead, with
+a line in pencil begging him to take an early breakfast with her, at nine
+o'clock.
+
+As soon as ever he came she began upon the topic of last night. She had
+thought it over, and said, frankly, she was not without hopes the
+gentleman, if he was really a gentleman, might be contented with
+something less than half. But she really did not see how she could refuse
+him some share of her winnings, should he demand it. “Think of it,” said
+she. “The poor man loses--four hundred pounds, I think you said. Then he
+says, 'Bet you for me,' and goes away, trusting to your honor. His luck
+changes in my hands. Is he to lose all when he loses, and win nothing
+when he wins, merely because I am so fortunate as to win much? However,
+we shall hear what _he_ says. You gave him your address.”
+
+“I said I was at 'The Golden Star,'” growled Ashmead, in a tone that
+plainly showed he was vexed with himself for being so communicative.
+
+“Then he will pay us a visit as soon as he hears: so I need give myself
+no further trouble.”
+
+“Why should you? Wait till he comes,” said crafty Ashmead.
+
+Ina Klosking colored. She felt her friend was tempting her, and felt she
+was not quite beyond the power of temptation.
+
+“What was he like?” said she, to turn the conversation.
+
+“The handsomest young fellow I ever saw.”
+
+“Young, of course?”
+
+“Yes, quite a boy. At least, he looked a boy. To be sure, his talk was
+not like a boy's; very precocious, I should say.”
+
+“What a pity, to begin gambling so young!”
+
+“Oh, he is all right. If he loses every farthing of his own, he will
+marry money. Any woman would have him. You never saw such a curled
+darling.”
+
+“Dark or fair?”
+
+“Fair. Pink-and-white, like a girl; a hand like a lady.”
+
+“Indeed. Fine eyes?”
+
+“Splendid!”
+
+“What color?”
+
+“I don't know. Lord bless you, a man does not examine another man's eyes,
+like you ladies. However, now I think of it, there was one curious thing
+I should know him by anywhere.”
+
+“And what was that?”
+
+“Well, you see, his hair was brown; but just above the forehead he had
+got one lock that was like your own--gold itself.”
+
+While he said this, the Klosking's face underwent the most rapid and
+striking changes, and at last she sat looking at him wildly.
+
+It was some time before he noticed her, and then he was quite alarmed at
+her strange expression. “What is the matter?” said he. “Are you ill?”
+
+“No, no, no. Only a little--astonished. Such a thing as that is very
+rare.”
+
+“That it is. I never saw a case before.”
+
+“Not one, in all your life?” asked she, eagerly.
+
+“Well, no; not that I remember.”
+
+“Excuse me a minute,” said Ina Klosking, and went hurriedly from the
+room.
+
+Ashmead thought her manner very strange, but concluded she was a little
+unhinged by yesterday's excitement. Moreover, there faced him an omelet
+of enormous size, and savory. He thought this worthy to divide a man's
+attention even with the great creature's tantrums. He devoted himself to
+it, and it occupied him so agreeably that he did not observe the conduct
+of Mademoiselle Klosking on her return. She placed three photographs
+softly on the table, not very far from him, and then resumed her seat;
+but her eye never left him: and she gave monosyllabic and almost
+impatient replies to everything he mumbled with his mouth full of omelet.
+
+When he had done his omelet, he noticed the photographs. They were all
+colored. He took one up. It was an elderly woman, sweet, venerable, and
+fair-haired. He looked at Ina, and at the photograph, and said, “This is
+your mother.”
+
+“It is.”
+
+“It is angelic--as might be expected.”
+
+He took up another.
+
+“This is your brother, I suppose. Stop. Haloo!--what is this? Are my eyes
+making a fool of me?”
+
+He held out the photograph at arm's length, and stared from it to her.
+“Why, madam,” said he, in an awestruck voice, “this is the gentleman--the
+player--I'd swear to him.”
+
+Ina started from her seat while he spoke. “Ah!” she cried, “I thought
+so--my Edward!” and sat down, trembling violently.
+
+Ashmead ran to her, and sprinkled water in her face, for she seemed ready
+to faint: but she murmured, “No, no!” and soon the color rushed into her
+face, and she clasped her hands together, and cried, “I have found him!”
+ and soon the storm of varying emotions ended in tears that gave her
+relief.
+
+It was a long time before she spoke; but when she did, her spirit and her
+natural strength of character took the upper hand.
+
+“Where is he?” said she, firmly.
+
+“He told me he was at the 'Russie.'”
+
+“We will go there at once. When is the next train?”
+
+Ashmead looked at his watch. “In ten minutes. We can hardly do it.”
+
+“Yes, we can. Order a carriage this instant. I will be ready in one
+minute.”
+
+They caught the train, and started.
+
+As they glided along, Ashmead begged her not to act too hurriedly, and
+expose herself to insult.
+
+“Who will dare insult me?”
+
+“Nobody, I hope. Still, I cannot bear you to go into a strange hotel
+hunting this man. It is monstrous; but I am afraid you will not be
+welcome. Something has just occurred to me; the reason he ran off so
+suddenly was, he saw you coming. There was a mirror opposite. Ah, we need
+not have feared he would come back for his winnings. Idiot--villain!”
+
+“You stab me to the heart,” said Ina. “He ran away at sight of me? Ah,
+Jesu, pity me! What have I done to him?”
+
+Honest Ashmead had much ado not to blubber at this patient cry of
+anguish, though the woman herself shed no tear just then. But his
+judgment was undimmed by passion, and he gave her the benefit. “Take my
+advice,” said he, “and work it this way. Come in a close carriage to the
+side street that is nearest the Russie. I'll go in to the hotel and ask
+for him by his name--what is his name?”
+
+“Mr. Edward Severne.”
+
+“And say that I was afraid to stake his money, but a friend of mine, that
+is a bold player, undertook it, and had a great run of luck. 'There is
+money owing you,' says I, 'and my friend has brought it.' Then he is sure
+to come. You will have your veil down, I'll open the carriage-door, and
+tell him to jump in, and, when you have got him you must make him hear
+reason. I'll give you a good chance--I'll shut the carriage-door.”
+
+Ina smiled at his ingenuity--her first smile that day. “You are indeed a
+friend,” said she. “He fears reproaches, but, when he finds he is
+welcome, he will stay with me; and he shall have money to play with, and
+amuse himself how he likes. I kept too tight a rein on him, poor fellow!
+My good mother taught me prudence.”
+
+“Yes, but,” said Ashmead, “you must promise me one thing: not to let him
+know how much money you have won, and not to go, like a goose, and give
+him a lot at once. It never pays to part with power in this wicked world.
+You give him twenty pounds a day to play with whenever he is cleaned out.
+Then the money will last your time, and he will never leave you.”
+
+“Oh, how cold-hearted and wise you are!” said she. “But such a
+humiliating position for _him!”_
+
+“Don't you be silly. You won't keep him any other way.”
+
+“I will be as wise as I can,” sighed Ina. “I have had a bitter lesson.
+Only bring him to me, and then, who knows? I am a change: my love may
+revive his, and none of these pitiable precautions may be needed. They
+would lower us both.”
+
+Ashmead groaned aloud. “I see,” said he. “He'll soon clean you out. Ah,
+well! he can't rob you of your voice, and he can't rob you of your
+Ashmead.”
+
+They soon reached Frankfort. Ashmead put her into a carriage as agreed,
+and went to the Russie.
+
+Ina sat, with her veil down, in the carriage, and waited Ashmead's return
+with Severne. He was a long time coming. She began to doubt, and then to
+fear, and wonder why he was so long.
+
+At last he came in sight.
+
+He was alone.
+
+As he drew nearer she saw his face was thoroughly downcast.
+
+“My dear friend,” he faltered, “you are out of luck to-day.”
+
+“He will not come with you?”
+
+“Oh, he would come fast enough, if he was there; but he is gone.”
+
+“Gone! To Homburg?”
+
+“No. Unfortunately, he is gone to England. Went off, by the fast train,
+an hour ago.”
+
+Ina fell back in silence, just as if she had been struck in the face.
+
+“He is traveling with an English family, and they have gone straight
+home. Here are their names. I looked in the visitors' book, and talked to
+the servant, and all. Mr. Vizard, Miss Vizard--”
+
+“Vizard?”
+
+“Yes--Miss Maitland, Miss Dover. See, I wrote them all down.”
+
+“Oh, I am unfortunate! Why was I ever born?”
+
+“Don't say that, don't say that. It is annoying: but we shall be able to
+trace him now; and, besides, I see other ways of getting hold of him.”
+
+Ina broke in upon his talk. “Take me to the nearest church,” she cried.
+“Man's words are vain. Ah, Jesu, let me cry to thee!”
+
+He took her to the nearest church. She went in, and prayed for full two
+hours. She came out, pale and listless, and Ashmead got her home how he
+could. Her very body seemed all crushed and limp. Ashmead left her, sad
+at heart himself.
+
+So long as she was in sight Ashmead could think only of her misery: but
+the moment she was out of sight, he remembered the theater. She was
+announced for Rosina that very night. He saw trouble of all sorts before
+him. He ran to the theater, in great alarm, and told the manager she had
+been taken very ill. He must change the bill.
+
+“Impossible!” was the reply. “If she can't sing, I close.”
+
+Ashmead went back to “The Star.”
+
+Ina was in her bedroom.
+
+He sent in a line, “Can you sing tonight? If not he says he must close.”
+
+The reply came back in rather a trembling hand. “I suffer too much by
+falsehood to break faith myself. I shall pray till night: and then I
+shall sing. If I die on the stage, all the better for me.”
+
+Was not this a great soul?
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THAT same morning our English party snatched a hasty breakfast in
+traveling attire. Severne was not there; but sent word to Vizard he
+should be there in time.
+
+This filled the cup. Zoe's wounded pride had been rising higher and
+higher all the night, and she came down rather pale, from broken rest,
+and sternly resolved. She had a few serious words with Fanny, and
+sketched her out a little map of conduct, which showed that she had
+thought the matter well over.
+
+But her plan bid fair to be deranged: Severne was not at the station:
+then came a change. Zoe was restless, and cast anxious glances.
+
+But at the second bell he darted into the carriage, as if he had just
+dispatched some wonderful business to get there in time. While the train
+was starting, he busied himself in arranging his things; but, once
+started, he put on his sunny look and prepared to be, as usual, the life
+and soul of the party.
+
+But, for once, he met a frost. Zoe was wrapped in impenetrable _hauteur,_
+and Fanny in polite indifference. Never was loss of favor more ably
+marked without the least ill-breeding, and no good handle given to seek
+an explanation.
+
+No doubt a straightforward man, with justice on his side, would have
+asked them plumply whether he had been so unfortunate as to offend, and
+how; and this was what Zoe secretly wished, however she might seem to
+repel it. But Severne was too crafty for that. He had learned the art of
+waiting.
+
+After a few efforts at conversation and smooth rebuffs, he put on a
+surprised, mortified, and sorrowful air, and awaited the attack, which he
+felt would come soon or late.
+
+This skillful inertia baffled the fair, in a man; in a woman, they might
+have expected it; and, after a few hours, Zoe's patience began to wear
+out.
+
+The train stopped for twenty minutes, and, even while they were snatching
+a little refreshment, the dark locks and the blonde came very close
+together; and Zoe, exasperated by her own wounded pride and the sullen
+torpor of her lover, gave Fanny fresh instructions, which nobody was
+better qualified to carry out than that young lady, as nobody was better
+able to baffle female strategy than the gentleman.
+
+This time, however, the ladies had certain advantages, to balance his
+subtlety and his habit of stating anything, true or false, that suited
+his immediate purpose.
+
+They opened very cat-like. Fanny affected to be outgrowing her ill-humor,
+and volunteered a civil word or two to Severne. Thereupon Zoe turned
+sharply away from Fanny, as if she disapproved her conduct, and took a
+book. This was pretty sly, and done, I suppose, to remove all idea of
+concert between the fair assailants; whereas it was a secret signal for
+the concert to come into operation, it being Fanny's part to play upon
+Severne, and Zoe's to watch, from her corner, every lineament of his face
+under fire.
+
+“By-the-way, Mr. Severne,” said Fanny, apropos of a church on a hill they
+were admiring, “did you get your winnings?”
+
+“My winnings! You are sarcastical.”
+
+“Am I? Really I did not intend to be.”
+
+“No, no; forgive me; but that did seem a little cruel. Miss Dover, I was
+a heavy loser.”
+
+“Not while we were there. The lady and gentleman who played with your
+money won, oh, such a deal!”
+
+“The devil they did!”
+
+“Yes. Did you not stay behind, last night, to get it? We never saw you at
+the Russie.”
+
+“I was very ill.”
+
+“Bleeding at the nose?”
+
+“No. That always relieves me when it comes. I am subject to fainting
+fits: once I lay insensible so long they were going to bury me. Now, do
+pray tell me what makes you fancy anybody won a lot with my money.”
+
+“Well, I will. You know you left fifty pounds for a friend to bet with.”
+
+Severne stared; but was too eager for information to question her how she
+knew this. “Yes, I did,” said he.
+
+“And you really don't know what followed?”
+
+“Good heavens! how can I?”
+
+“Well, then, as you ran out--to faint, Mademoiselle Klosking came in,
+just as she did at the opera, you know, the time before, when you ran
+out--to bleed. She slipped into your chair, the very moment you left it;
+and your friend with the flaming neck-tie told her you had set him to bet
+with your money. By-the-by, Mr. Severne, how on earth do you and
+Mademoiselle Klosking, who have both so much taste in dress, come to have
+a mutual friend, vulgarity in person, with a velveteen coat and an
+impossible neck-tie?”
+
+“What are you talking about, Miss Dover? I do just know Mademoiselle
+Klosking; I met her in society in Vienna, two years ago: but that cad I
+commissioned to bet for me I never saw before in my life. You are keeping
+me on tenter-hooks. My money--my money--my money! If you have a heart in
+your bosom, tell me what became of my money.”
+
+He was violent, for the first time since they had known him, and his eyes
+flashed fire.
+
+“Well,” said Fanny, beginning to be puzzled and rather frightened, “this
+man, who you _say_ was a new acquaintance--”
+
+“Whom I _say?_ Do you mean to tell me I am a liar?” He fumbled eagerly in
+his breast-pocket, and produced a card. “There,” said he, “this is the
+card he gave me, 'Mr. Joseph Ashmead.' Now, may this train dash over the
+next viaduct, and take you and Miss Vizard to heaven, and me to hell, if
+I ever saw Mr. Joseph Ashmead's face before. THE MONEY!--THE MONEY!”
+
+He uttered this furiously, and, it is a curious fact; but Zoe turned red,
+and Fanny pale. It was really in quite a cowed voice Miss Dover went on
+to say, “La! don't fly out like that. Well, then, the man refused to bet
+with your money; so then Mademoiselle Klosking said she would; and she
+played--oh, how she did play! She doubled, and doubled, and doubled,
+hundreds upon hundreds. She made a mountain of gold and a pyramid of
+bank-notes; and she never stopped till she broke the bank--there!”
+
+“With my money?” gasped Severne.
+
+“Yes; with your money. Your friend with the loud tie pocketed it; I beg
+your pardon, not your friend--only hers. Harrington says he is her _cher
+ami.”_
+
+“The money is mine!” he shrieked. “I don't care who played with it, it is
+mine. And the fellow had the impudence to send me back my fifty pounds to
+the Russie.”
+
+“What! you gave him your address?” this with an involuntary glance of
+surprise at Zoe.
+
+“Of course. Do you think I leave a man fifty pounds to play with, and
+don't give him my address? He has won thousands with my money, and sent
+me back my fifty, for a blind, the thief!”
+
+“Well, really it is too bad,” said Fanny. “But, there--I'm afraid you
+must make the best of it. Of course, their sending back your fifty pounds
+shows they mean to keep their winnings.”
+
+“You talk like a woman,” said he; then, grinding his teeth, and
+stretching out a long muscular arm, he said, “I'll take the blackguard by
+the throat and tear it out of him, though I tear his life out along with
+it.”
+
+All this time Zoe had been looking at him with concern, and even with
+admiration. He seemed more beautiful than ever, to her, under the
+influence of passion, and more of a man.
+
+“Mr. Severne,” said she, “be calm. Fanny has misled you, without
+intending it. She did not hear all that passed between those two; I did.
+The velveteen and neck-tie man refused to bet with your money. It was
+Mademoiselle Klosking who bet, and with her own money. She took
+twenty-five pounds of her own, and twenty-five pounds of yours, and won
+two or three hundred in a few moments. Surely, as a gentleman, you cannot
+ask a lady to do more than repay you your twenty-five pounds.”
+
+Severne was a little cowed by Zoe' s interference. He stood his ground;
+but sullenly, instead of violently.
+
+“Miss Vizard, if I were weak enough to trust a lady with my money at a
+gambling table, I should expect foul play; for I never knew a lady yet
+who would not cheat _at cards,_ if she could. I trusted my money to a
+tradesman to bet with. If he takes a female partner, that is no business
+of mine; he is responsible all the same, and I'll have my money.”
+
+He jumped up at the word, and looked out at the window; he even fumbled
+with the door, and tried to open it.
+
+“You had better jump out,” said Fanny.
+
+“And then they would keep my money for good. No;” said he, “I'll wait for
+the nearest station.” He sunk back into his seat, looking unutterable
+things.
+
+Fanny looked rather rueful at first; then she said, spitefully, “You must
+be very sure of your influence with your old sweetheart. You forget she
+has got another now--a tradesman, too. He will stick to the money, and
+make her stick to it. Their sending the fifty pounds shows that.”
+
+Zoe's eyes were on him with microscopic power, and, with all his
+self-command, she saw him wince and change color, and give other signs
+that this shaft had told in many ways.
+
+He shut his countenance the next moment; but it had opened, and Zoe was
+on fire with jealousy and suspicion.
+
+Fluctuating Fanny regretted the turn things had taken. She did not want
+to lose a pleasant male companion, and she felt sure Zoe would be
+unhappy, and cross to her, if he went. “Surely, Mr. Severne,” she said,
+“you will not desert us and go back for so small a chance. Why, we are a
+hundred and fifty miles from Homburg, and all the nearer to dear old
+England. There, there--we must be kinder to you, and make you forget this
+misfortune.”
+
+Thus spoke the trimmer. The reply took her by surprise.
+
+“And whose fault is it that I am obliged to get out a hundred and fifty
+miles from Homburg? You knew all this. You could have got me a delay of a
+few hours to go and get my due. You know I am a poor man. With all your
+cleverness, you don't know what made me poor, or you would feel some
+remorse, perhaps; but you know I am poor when most I could wish I were
+rich. You have heard that old woman there fling my poverty in my teeth;
+yet you could keep this from me--just to assist a cheat and play upon the
+feelings of a friend. Now, what good has that done you, to inflict misery
+on me in sport, on a man who never gave you a moment's pain if he could
+help it?”
+
+Fanny looked ruefully this way and that, her face began to work, and she
+laid down her arms, if a lady can be said to do that who lays down a
+strong weapon and takes up a stronger; in other words, she burst out
+crying, and said no more. You see, she was poor herself.
+
+Severne took no notice of her; he was accustomed to make women cry. He
+thrust his head out of the window in hopes of seeing a station near, and
+his whole being was restless as if he would like to jump out.
+
+While he was in this condition of mind and body, the hand he had once
+kissed so tenderly, and shocked Miss Maitland, passed an envelope over
+his shoulder, with two lines written on it in pencil:
+
+“If you GO BACK TO HOMBURG, oblige ME BY REMAINING there.”
+
+
+This demands an explanation; but it shall be brief.
+
+Fanny's shrewd hint, that the money could only be obtained from Mdlle.
+Klosking, had pierced Zoe through and through. Her mind grasped all that
+had happened, all that impended, and, wisely declining to try and account
+for, or reconcile, all the jarring details, she settled, with a woman's
+broad instinct, that, somehow or other, his going back to Homburg meant
+going back to Mademoiselle Klosking. Whether that lady would buy him or
+not, she did not know. But going back to her meant going a journey to see
+a rival, with consequences illimitable.
+
+She had courage; she had pride; she had jealousy. She resolved to lose
+her lover, or have him all to herself. Share him she would not, nor even
+endure the torture of the doubt.
+
+She took an envelope out of her satchel, and with the pencil attached to
+her chatelaine wrote the fatal words, “If you go back to Homburg, oblige
+me by remaining there.”
+
+At this moment she was not goaded by pique or any petty feeling. Indeed,
+his reproach to Fanny had touched her a little, and it was with the tear
+in her eye she came to the resolution, and handed him that line, which
+told him she knew her value, and, cost what it might, would part with any
+man forever rather than share him with the Klosking or any other woman.
+
+Severne took the line, eyed it, realized it, fell back from the window,
+and dropped into his seat. This gave Zoe a consoling sense of power. She
+had seen her lover raging and restless, and wanting to jump out, yet now
+beheld him literally felled with a word from her hand.
+
+He leaned his head in his hand in a sort of broken-down, collapsed,
+dogged way that moved her pity, though hardly her respect.
+
+By-and-by it struck her as a very grave thing that he did not reply by
+word, nor even by look. He could decide with a glance, and why did he
+hesitate? Was he really balancing her against Mademoiselle Klosking
+weighted with a share of his winnings?
+
+This doubt was wormwood to her pride and self-respect; but his crushed
+attitude allayed in some degree the mere irritation his doubt caused.
+
+The minutes passed and the miles: still that broken figure sat before
+her, with his face hidden by his white hand.
+
+Zoe's courage began to falter. Misgivings seized her. She had made that a
+matter of love which, after all, to a man, might be a mere matter of
+business. He was poor, too, and she had thrust her jealousy between him
+and money. He might have his pride too, and rebel against her affront.
+
+As for his thoughts, under that crushed exterior, which he put on for a
+blind, they were so deliberate and calculating that I shall not mix them
+on this page with that pure and generous creature's. Another time will do
+to reveal his sordid arithmetic. As for Zoe, she settled down into
+wishing, with all her heart, she had not submitted her lover so
+imperiously to a test, the severity of which she now saw she had
+underrated.
+
+Presently the speed of the train began to slacken--all too soon. She now
+dreaded to learn her fate. Was she, or was she not, worth a few thousand
+pounds ready money?
+
+A signal-post was past, proving that they were about to enter a station.
+Yet another. Now the wheels were hardly turning. Now the platform was
+visible. Yet he never moved his white, delicate, womanish fingers from
+his forehead, but remained still absorbed, and looked undecided.
+
+At last the motion entirely ceased. Then, as she turned her head to
+glean, if possible, the name of the place, he stole a furtive glance at
+her. She was pallid, agitated. He resolved upon his course.
+
+As soon as the train stopped, he opened the door and jumped out, without
+a word to Zoe, or even a look.
+
+Zoe turned pale as death. “I have lost him,” said she.
+
+“No, no,” cried Fanny. “See, he has not taken his cane and umbrella.”
+
+_“They_ will not keep him from flying to his money and her,” moaned Zoe.
+“Did you not see? He never once looked at me. He could not. I am sick at
+heart.”
+
+This set Fanny fluttering. “There, let me out to speak to him.”
+
+“Sit quiet,” said Zoe, sternly.
+
+“No; no. If you love him--”
+
+“I do love him--passionately. And _therefore_ I'll die rather than share
+him with any one.”
+
+“But it is dreadful to be fixed here, and not allowed to move hand or
+foot.”
+
+“It is the lot of women. Let me feel the hand of a friend, that is all;
+for I am sick at heart.”
+
+Fanny gave her her hand, and all the sympathy her shallow nature had to
+bestow.
+
+Zoe sat motionless, gripping her friend's hand almost convulsively, a
+statue of female fortitude.
+
+This suspense could not last long. The officials ordered the travelers to
+the carriages; doors were opened and slammed; the engine gave a snort,
+and only at that moment did Mr. Edward Severne tear the door open and
+bolt into the carriage.
+
+Oh, it was pitiable, but lovely, to see the blood rush into Zoe's face,
+and the fire into her eye, and the sweet mouth expand in a smile of joy
+and triumph!
+
+She sat a moment, almost paralyzed with pleasure, and then cast her eyes
+down, lest their fire should proclaim her feelings too plainly.
+
+As for Severne, he only glanced at her as he came in, and then shunned
+her eye. He presented to her the grave, resolved countenance of a man who
+has been forced to a decision, but means to abide by it.
+
+In reality he was delighted at the turn things had taken. The money was
+not necessarily lost, since he knew where it was; and Zoe had compromised
+herself beyond retreating. He intended to wear this anxious face a long
+while. But his artificial snow had to melt, so real a sun shone full on
+it. The moment he looked full at Zoe, she repaid him with such a
+point-blank beam of glorious tenderness and gratitude as made him thrill
+with passion as well as triumph. He felt her whole heart was his, and
+from that hour his poverty would never be allowed to weigh with her. He
+cleared up, and left off acting, because it was superfluous; he had now
+only to bask in sunshine. Zoe, always tender, but coy till this moment,
+made love to him like a young goddess. Even Fanny yielded to the solid
+proof of sincerity he had given, and was downright affectionate.
+
+He was king. And from one gradation to another, they entered Cologne with
+Severne seated between the two girls, each with a hand in his, and a
+great disposition to pet him and spoil him; more than once, indeed, a
+delicate head just grazed each of his square shoulders; but candor
+compels me to own that their fatigue and the yawing of the carriage at
+the time were more to blame than the tired girls; for at the enormity
+there was a prompt retirement to a distance. Miss Maitland had been a
+long time in the land of Nod; and Vizard, from the first, had preferred
+male companions and tobacco.
+
+At Cologne they visited the pride of Germany, that mighty cathedral which
+the Middle Ages projected, commenced, and left to decay of old age before
+completion, and our enterprising age will finish; but they departed on
+the same day.
+
+Before they reached England, the love-making between Severne and Zoe,
+though it never passed the bounds of good taste, was so apparent to any
+female eye that Miss Maitland remonstrated severely with Fanny.
+
+But the trimmer was now won to the other side. She would not offend Aunt
+Maitland by owning her conversion. She said, hypocritically, “I am afraid
+it is no use objecting at present, aunt. The attachment is too strong on
+both sides. And, whether he is poor or not, he has sacrificed his money
+to her feelings, and so, now, she feels bound in honor. I know her; she
+won't listen to a word now, aunt: why irritate her? She would quarrel
+with both of us in a moment.”
+
+“Poor girl!” said Miss Maitland; and took the hint. She had still an
+arrow in her quiver--Vizard.
+
+In mid-channel, ten miles south of Dover, she caught him in a lucid
+interval of non-smoke. She reminded, him he had promised her to give Mr.
+Severne a hint about Zoe.
+
+“So I did,” said he.
+
+“And have you?”
+
+“Well, no; to tell the truth, I forgot.”
+
+“Then please do it now; for they are going on worse than ever.”
+
+“I'll warn the fool,” said he.
+
+He did warn him, and in the following terms:
+
+“Look here, old fellow. I hear you are getting awfully sweet on my sister
+Zoe.”
+
+No answer. Severne on his guard.
+
+“Now, you had better mind your eye. She is a very pretty girl, and you
+may find yourself entangled before you know where you are.”
+
+Severne hung his head. “Of course, I know it is great presumption in me.”
+
+“Presumption? fiddlestick! Such a man as you are ought not to be tied to
+any woman, or, if you must be, you ought not to go cheap. Mind, Zoe is a
+poor girl; only ten thousand in the world. Flirt with whom you
+like--there is no harm in that; but don't get seriously entangled with
+any of them. Good sisters, and good daughters, and good flirts make bad
+wives.”
+
+“Oh, then,” said Severne, “it is only on my account you object.”
+
+“Well, principally. And I don't exactly object. I warn. In the first
+place, as soon as ever we get into Barfordshire, she will most likely
+jilt you. You may be only her Continental lover. How can I tell, _or you
+either?_ And if not, and you were to be weak enough to marry her, she
+would develop unexpected vices directly--they all do. And you are not
+rich enough to live in a house of your own; you would have to live in
+mine--a fine fate for a rising blade like you.”
+
+“What a terrible prospect--to be tied to the best friend in England as
+well as the loveliest woman!”
+
+“Oh, if that is the view you take,” said Vizard, beaming with delight,
+“it is no use talking reason to _you.”_
+
+When they reached London, Vizard gave Miss Maitland an outline of this
+conversation; and, so far from seeing the humor of it, which,
+nevertheless, was pretty strong and characteristic of the man and his one
+foible, she took the huff, and would not even stay to dinner at the
+hotel. She would go into her own county by the next train, bag and
+baggage.
+
+Mr. Severne was the only one who offered to accompany her to the Great
+Western Railway. She declined. He insisted; went with her; got her
+ticket, numbered and arranged her packages, and saw her safely off, with
+an air of profound respect and admirably feigned regret.
+
+That she was the dupe of his art, may be doubted: that he lost nothing by
+it, is certain. Men are not ruined by civility. As soon as she was
+seated, she said, “I beg, sir, you will waste no more time with me. Mr.
+Severne, you have behaved to me like a gentleman, and that is very
+unusual in a man of your age nowadays. I cannot alter my opinion about my
+niece and you: but I _am_ sorry you are a poor gentleman--much too poor
+to marry her, and I wish I could make you a rich one; but I cannot. There
+is my hand.”
+
+You should have seen the air of tender veneration with which the young
+Machiavel bowed over her hand, and even imprinted a light touch on it
+with his velvet lips.
+
+Then he retired, disconsolate, and, once out of sight, whipped into a
+gin-palace and swallowed a quartern of neat brandy, to take the taste out
+of his mouth. “Go it, Ned,” said he, to himself; “you can't afford to
+make enemies.”
+
+The old lady went off bitter against the whole party _except Mr.
+Severne;_ and he retired to his friends, disembarrassed of the one foe he
+had not turned into a downright friend, but only disarmed. Well does the
+great Voltaire recommend what he well calls “le grand art de plaire.”
+
+Vizard sent Harris into Barfordshire, to prepare for the comfort of the
+party; and to light fires in all the bedrooms, though it was summer; and
+to see the beds, blankets and sheets aired at the very fires of the very
+rooms they were to be used in. This sacred office he never trusted to a
+housekeeper; he used even to declare, as the result of experience, that
+it was beyond the intellect of any woman really to air mattresses,
+blankets, and sheets--all three. He had also a printed list he used to
+show about, of five acquaintances, stout fellows all, whom “little bits
+of women” (such was his phraseology) had laid low with damp beds, having
+crippled two for life with rheumatism and lumbago, and sent three to
+their long home.
+
+Meantime Severne took the ladies to every public attraction by day and
+night, and Vizard thanked him, before the fair, for his consideration in
+taking them off his hands; and Severne retorted by thanking him for
+leaving them on his.
+
+It may seem, at first, a vile selection; but I am going to ask the ladies
+who honor me with their attention to follow, not that gay, amorous party
+of three, but this solitary cynic on his round.
+
+Taking a turn round the garden in Leicester Square, which was new to him,
+Harrington Vizard's observant eye saw a young lady rise up from a seat to
+go, but turn pale directly, and sit down again upon the arm of the seat,
+as if for support.
+
+“Halloo!” said Vizard, in his blunt way, _“you_ are not well. What can I
+do for you?”
+
+“I am all right,” said she. “Please go on;” the latter words in a tone
+that implied she was not a novice, and the attentions of gentlemen to
+strange ladies were suspected.
+
+“I beg your pardon,” said Vizard, coolly. “You are not all right. You
+look as if you were going to faint.”
+
+“What, are my lips blue?”
+
+“No; but they are pale.”
+
+“Well, then it is not a case of fainting. It _may_ be exhaustion.”
+
+“You know best. What shall we do?”
+
+“Why, nothing. Yes; mind our own business.”
+
+“With all my heart; my business just now is to offer you some
+restorative--a glass of wine.”
+
+“Oh, yes! I think I see myself going into a public-house with you.
+Besides, I don't believe in stimulants. Strength can only enter the human
+body one way. I know what is the matter with me.”
+
+“What is it?”
+
+“I am not obliged to tell _you.”_
+
+“Of course you are not obliged; but you might as well.”
+
+“Well, then, it is Hunger.”
+
+“Hunger!”
+
+“Hunger--famine--starvation. Don't you know English?”
+
+“I hope you are not serious, madam,” said Vizard, very gravely. “However,
+if ladies will say such things as that, men with stomachs in their bosoms
+must act accordingly. Oblige me by taking my arm, as you are weak, and we
+will adjourn to that eating-house over the way.”
+
+“Much obliged,” said the lady, satirically, “our acquaintance is not
+_quite_ long enough for that.”
+
+He looked at her; a tall, slim, young lady, black merino, by no means
+new, clean cuffs and collar leaning against the chair for support, and
+yet sacrificing herself to conventional propriety, and even withstanding
+him with a pretty little air of defiance that was pitiable, her pallor
+and the weakness of her body considered.
+
+The poor Woman-hater's bowels began to yearn. “Look here, you little
+spitfire,” said he, “if you don't instantly take my arm, I'll catch you
+up and carry you over, with no more trouble than you would carry a
+thread-paper.”
+
+She looked him up and down very keenly, and at last with a slight
+expression of feminine approval, the first she had vouchsafed him. Then
+she folded her arms, and cocked her little nose at him, “You daren't.
+I'll call the police.”
+
+“If you do, I'll tell them you are my little cousin, mad as a March hare:
+starving, and won't eat. Come, how is it to be?” He advanced upon her.
+
+“You can't be in earnest, sir,” said she, with sudden dignity.
+
+“Am I not, though? You don't know _me._ I am used to be obeyed. If you
+don't go with me like a sensible girl, I'll carry you--to your
+dinner--like a ruffian.”
+
+“Then I'll go--like a lady,” said she, with sudden humility.
+
+He offered her his arm. She passed hers within; but leaned as lightly as
+possible on it, and her poor pale face was a little pink as they went.
+
+He entered the eating-house, and asked for two portions of cold roast
+beef, not to keep her waiting. They were brought.
+
+“Sir,” said she, with a subjugated air, “will you be so good as cut up
+the meat small, and pass it to me a bit or two at a time.”
+
+He was surprised, but obeyed her orders.
+
+“And if you could make me talk a little? Because, at sight of the meat so
+near me, I feel like a tigress--poor human nature! Sir, I have not eaten
+meat for a week, nor food of any kind this two days.”
+
+“Good God!”
+
+“So I must be prudent. People have gorged themselves with furious eating
+under those circumstances; that is why I asked you to supply me slowly.
+Thank you. You need not look at me like that. Better folk than I have
+_died_ of hunger. Something tells me I have reached the lowest spoke,
+when I have been indebted to a stranger for a meal.”
+
+Vizard felt the water come into his eyes; but he resisted that pitiable
+weakness. “Bother that nonsense!” said he. “I'll introduce myself, and
+then you can't throw _stranger_ in my teeth. I am Harrington Vizard, a
+Barfordshire squire.”
+
+“I thought you were not a Cockney.”
+
+“Lord forbid! Does that information entitle me to any in return?”
+
+“I don't know; but, whether or no, my name is Rhoda Gale.”
+
+“Have another plate, Miss Gale?”
+
+“Thanks.”
+
+He ordered another.
+
+“I am proud of your confiding your name to me, Miss Gale; but, to tell
+the truth, what I wanted to know is how a young lady of your talent and
+education could be so badly off as you must be. It is not impertinent
+curiosity.”
+
+The young lady reflected a moment. “Sir,” said she, “I don't think it is;
+and I would not much mind telling you. Of course I studied you before I
+came here. Even hunger would not make me sit in a tavern beside a fool,
+or a snob, or (with a faint blush) a libertine. But to tell one's own
+story, that is so egotistical, for one thing.
+
+“Oh, it is never egotistical to oblige.”
+
+“Now, that is sophistical. Then, again, I am afraid I could not tell it
+to you without crying, because you seem rather a manly man, and some of
+it might revolt you, and you might sympathize right out, and then I
+should break down.”
+
+“No matter. Do us both good.”
+
+“Yes, but before the waiters and people! See how they are staring at us
+already.”
+
+“We will have another go in at the beef, and then adjourn to the garden
+for your narrative.”
+
+“No: as much garden as you like, but no more beef. I have eaten one
+sirloin, I reckon. Will you give me one cup of black tea without sugar or
+milk?”
+
+Vizard gave the order.
+
+She seemed to think some explanation necessary, though he did not.
+
+“One cup of tea agrees with my brain and nerves,” said she. “It steadies
+them. That is a matter of individual experience. I should not prescribe
+it to others any the more for that.”
+
+Vizard sat wondering at the girl. He said to himself, “What is she? A
+_lusus naturoe?”_
+
+When the tea came, and she had sipped a little, she perked up
+wonderfully. Said she, “Oh, the magic effect of food eaten judiciously!
+Now I am a lioness, and do not fear the future. Yes; I will tell you my
+story--and, if you think you are going to hear a love-story, you will be
+nicely caught--ha-ha! No, _sir;”_ said she, with rising fervor and
+heightened color, “you will hear a story the public is deeply interested
+in and does not know it; ay, a story that will certainly be referred to
+with wonder and shame, whenever civilization shall become a reality, and
+law cease to be a tool of injustice and monopoly.” She paused a moment;
+then said a little doggedly, as one used to encounter prejudice, “I am a
+medical student; a would-be doctor.”
+
+“Ah!”
+
+“And so well qualified by genuine gifts, by study from my infancy, by
+zeal, quick senses, and cultivated judgment, that, were all the leading
+London physicians examined to-morrow by qualified persons at the same
+board as myself, most of those wealthy practitioners--not all, mind
+you--would cut an indifferent figure in modern science compared with me,
+whom you have had to rescue from starvation--because I am a woman.”
+
+Her eye flashed. But she moderated herself, and said, “That is the
+outline; and it is a grievance. Now, grievances are bores. You can escape
+this one before it is too late.”
+
+“If it lies with me, I demand the minutest details,” said Vizard, warmly.
+
+“You shall have them; and true to the letter.”
+
+Vizard settled the small account, and adjourned, with his companion, to
+the garden. She walked by his side, with her face sometimes thoughtfully
+bent on the ground, and sometimes confronting him with ardor, and told
+him a true story, the simplicity of which I shall try not to spoil with
+any vulgar arts of fiction.
+
+A LITTLE NARRATIVE OF DRY FACTS TOLD TO A WOMAN-HATER BY A WOMAN.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+“My father was an American, my mother English. I was born near Epsom and
+lived there ten years. Then my father had property left him in
+Massachusetts, and we went to Boston. Both my parents educated me, and
+began very early. I observe that most parents are babies at teaching,
+compared with mine. My father was a linguist, and taught me to lisp
+German, French, and English; my mother was an ideaed woman: she taught me
+three rarities--attention, observation, and accuracy. If I went a walk in
+the country, I had to bring her home a budget: the men and women on the
+road, their dresses, appearance, countenances, and words; every kind of
+bird in the air, and insect and chrysalis in the hedges; the crops in the
+fields, the flowers and herbs on the banks. If I walked in the town, I
+must not be eyes and no eyes; woe betide me if I could only report the
+dresses! Really, I have known me, when I was but eight, come home to my
+mother laden with details, when perhaps an untrained girl of eighteen
+could only have specified that she had gone up and down a thoroughfare.
+Another time mother would take me on a visit: next day, or perhaps next
+week, she would expect me to describe every article of furniture in her
+friend's room, and the books on the table, and repeat the conversation,
+the topics at all events. She taught me to master history _accurately._
+To do this she was artful enough to turn sport into science. She utilized
+a game: young people in Boston play it. A writes an anecdote on paper, or
+perhaps produces it in print. She reads it off to B. B goes away, and
+writes it down by memory; then reads her writing out to C. C has to
+listen, and convey her impression to paper. This she reads to D, and D
+goes and writes it. Then the original story and D's version are compared;
+and, generally speaking, the difference of the two is a caution--against
+oral tradition. When the steps of deviation are observed, it is quite a
+study.
+
+“My mother, with her good wit, saw there was something better than fun to
+be got out of this. She trained my memory of great things with it. She
+began with striking passages of history, and played the game with father
+and me. But as my power of retaining, and repeating correctly, grew by
+practice, she enlarged the business, and kept enriching my memory, so
+that I began to have tracts of history at my fingers' ends. As I grew
+older, she extended the sport to laws and the great public controversies
+in religion, politics, and philosophy that have agitated the world. But
+here she had to get assistance from her learned friends. She was a woman
+valued by men of intellect, and she had no mercy--milked jurists,
+physicians, and theologians and historians all into my little pail. To be
+sure, they were as kind about it as she was unscrupulous. They saw I was
+a keen student, and gave my mother many a little gem in writing. She read
+them out to me: I listened hard, and thus I fixed many great and good
+things in my trained memory; and repeated them against the text: I was
+never allowed to see _that._
+
+“With this sharp training, school subjects were child's play to me, and I
+won a good many prizes very easily. My mother would not let me waste a
+single minute over music. She used to say 'Music extracts what little
+brains a girl has. Open the piano, you shut the understanding.' I am
+afraid I bore you with my mother.”
+
+“Not at all, not at all. I admire her.”
+
+“Oh, thank you! thank you, sir! She never uses big words; so it is only
+of late I have had the _nous_ to see how wise she is. She corrected the
+special blots of the female character in me, and it is sweet to me to
+talk of that dear friend. What would I give to see her here!”
+
+
+“Well, then, sir, she made me, as far as she could, a--what shall I say?
+a kind of little intellectual gymnast, fit to begin any study; but she
+left me to choose my own line. Well, I was for natural history first;
+began like a girl; gathered wild flowers and simples at Epsom, along with
+an old woman; she discoursed on their traditional virtues, and knew
+little of their real properties: _that_ I have discovered since.
+
+“From herbs to living things; never spared a chrysalis, but always took
+it home and watched it break into wings. Hung over the ponds in June,
+watching the eggs of the frog turn to tadpoles, and the tadpoles to
+Johnny Crapaud. I obeyed Scripture in one thing, for I studied the ants
+and their ways.
+
+“I collected birds' eggs. At nine, not a boy in the parish could find
+more nests in a day than I could. With birdnesting, buying, and now and
+then begging, I made a collection that figures in a museum over the
+water, and is entitled 'Eggs of British Birds.' The colors attract, and
+people always stop at it. But it does no justice whatever to the great
+variety of sea-birds' eggs on the coast of Britain.
+
+“When I had learned what little they teach in schools, especially
+drawing, and that is useful in scientific pursuits, I was allowed to
+choose my own books, and attend lectures. One blessed day I sat and
+listened to Agassiz--ah! No tragedy well played, nor opera sung, ever
+moved a heart so deeply as he moved mine, that great and earnest man,
+whose enthusiasm for nature was as fresh as my own, and his knowledge a
+thousand times larger. Talk of heaven opening to the Christian pilgrim as
+he passes Jordan! Why, God made earth as well as heaven, and it is worthy
+of the Architect; and it is a joy divine when earth opens to the true
+admirer of God's works. Sir, earth opened to me, as Agassiz discoursed.
+
+“I followed him about like a little bloodhound, and dived into the
+libraries after each subject he treated or touched.
+
+“It was another little epoch in my life when I read 'White's Letters to
+Pennant' about natural history in Selborne. Selborne is an English
+village, not half so pretty as most; and, until Gilbert White came,
+nobody saw anything there worth printing. His book showed me that the
+humblest spot in nature becomes extraordinary the moment extraordinary
+observation is applied to it. I must mimic Gilbert White directly. I
+pestered my poor parents to spend a month or two in the depths of the
+country, on the verge of a forest. They yielded, with groans; I kissed
+them, and we rusticated. I pried into every living thing, not forgetting
+my old friends, the insect tribe. Here I found ants with grander ideas
+than they have to home, and satisfied myself they have more brains than
+apes. They co-operate more, and in complicated things. Sir, there are
+ants that make greater marches, for their size, than Napoleon's invasion
+of Russia. Even the less nomad tribes will march through fields of grass,
+where each blade is a high gum-tree to them, and never lose the track. I
+saw an army of red ants, with generals, captains, and ensigns, start at
+daybreak, march across a road, through a hedge, and then through high
+grass till noon, and surprise a fortification of black ants, and take it
+after a sanguinary resistance. All that must have been planned
+beforehand, you know, and carried out to the letter. Once I found a
+colony busy on some hard ground, preparing an abode. I happened to have
+been microscoping a wasp, so I threw him down among the ants. They were
+disgusted. They ran about collecting opinions. Presently half of them
+burrowed into the earth below and undermined him, till he lay on a crust
+of earth as thin as a wafer, and a deep grave below. Then they all got on
+him except one, and He stood pompous on a pebble, and gave orders. The
+earth broke--the wasp went down into his grave--and the ants soon covered
+him with loose earth, and resumed their domestic architecture. I
+concluded that though the monkey resembles man most in body, the ant
+comes nearer him in mind. As for dogs, I don't know where to rank them in
+_nature,_ because they have been pupils of man for centuries. I bore
+you?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Oh, yes, I do: an enthusiast is always a bore. 'Les facheux,' of Moliere
+are just enthusiasts. Well, sir, in one word, I was a natural
+philosopher--very small, but earnest; and, in due course, my studies
+brought me to the wonders of the human body. I studied the outlines of
+anatomy in books, and plates, and prepared figures; and from that, by
+degrees, I was led on to surgery and medicine--in books, you understand;
+and they are only half the battle. Medicine is a thing one can do. It is
+a noble science, a practical science, and a subtle science, where I
+thought my powers of study and observation might help me to be keen at
+reading symptoms, and do good to man, and be a famous woman; so I
+concluded to benefit mankind and myself. Stop! that sounds like
+self-deception. It must have been myself and mankind I concluded to
+benefit. Anyway, I pestered that small section of mankind which consisted
+of my parents, until they consented to let me study medicine in Europe.”
+
+“What, all by yourself?”
+
+“Yes. Oh, girls are very independent in the States, and govern the old
+people. Mine said 'No' a few dozen times; but they were bound to end in
+'Yes,' and I went to Zurich. I studied hard there, and earned the
+approbation of the professors. But the school deteriorated; too many
+ladies poured in from Russia: some were not in earnest, and preferred
+flirting to study, and did themselves no good, and made the male students
+idle, and wickeder than ever--if possible.”
+
+“What else could you expect?” said Vizard.
+
+“Nothing else from _unpicked_ women. But when all the schools in Europe
+shall be open--as they ought to be, and must, and shall--there will be no
+danger of shallow girls crowding to any particular school. Besides, there
+will be a more strict and rapid routine of examination then to sift out
+the female flirts and the male dunces along with them, I hope.
+
+“Well, sir, we few, that really meant medicine, made inquiries, and heard
+of a famous old school in the south of France, where women had graduated
+of old; and two of us went there to try--an Italian lady and myself. We
+carried good testimonials from Zurich, and, not to frighten the Frenchmen
+at starting, I attacked them alone. Cornelia was my elder, and my
+superior in attainments. She was a true descendant of those learned
+ladies who have adorned the chairs of philosophy, jurisprudence, anatomy,
+and medicine in her native country; but she has the wisdom of the
+serpent, as well as of the sage; and she put me forward because of my red
+hair. She said that would be a passport to the dark philosophers of
+France.”
+
+“Was not that rather foxy, Miss Gale?”
+
+“Foxy as my hair itself, Mr. Vizard.
+
+“Well, I applied to a professor. He received me with profound courtesy
+and feigned respect, but was staggered at my request to matriculate. He
+gesticulated and bowed _'a la Francaise,_ and begged the permission of
+his foxy-haired invader from Northern climes to consult his colleagues.
+Would I do him the great honor to call again next day at twelve? I did
+and met three other polished authorities. One spoke for all, and said, If
+I had not brought with me proofs of serious study, they should have
+dissuaded me very earnestly from a science I could not graduate in
+without going through practical courses of anatomy and clinical surgery.
+That, however (with a regular French shrug), was my business, not theirs.
+It was not for them to teach me delicacy, but rather to learn it from me.
+That was a French sneer. The French are _un gens moqueur,_ you know. I
+received both shrug and sneer like marble. He ended it all by saying the
+school had no written law excluding doctresses; and the old records
+proved women had graduated, and even lectured, there. I had only to pay
+my fees, and enter upon my routine of studies. So I was admitted on
+sufferance; but I soon earned the good opinion of the professors, and of
+this one in particular; and then Cornelia applied for admission, and was
+let in too. We lived together, and had no secrets; and I think, sir, I
+may venture to say that we showed some little wisdom, if you consider our
+age, and all that was done to spoil us. As to parrying their little sly
+attempts at flirtation, that is nothing; we came prepared. But, when our
+fellow-students found we were in earnest, and had high views, the
+chivalrous spirit of a gallant nation took fire, and they treated us with
+a delicate reverence that might have turned any woman's head. But we had
+the credit of a sneered-at sex to keep up, and felt our danger, and
+warned each other; and I remember I told Cornelia how many young ladies
+in the States I had seen puffed up by the men's extravagant homage, and
+become spoiled children, and offensively arrogant and discourteous; so I
+entreated her to check those vices in me the moment she saw them coming.
+
+“When we had been here a year, attending all the lectures--clinical
+medicine and surgery included--news came that one British school,
+Edinburgh, had shown symptoms of yielding to Continental civilization and
+relaxing monopoly. That turned me North directly. My mother is English: I
+wanted to be a British doctress, not a French. Cornelia had misgivings,
+and even condescended to cry over me. But I am a mule, and always was.
+Then that dear friend made terms with me: I must not break off my
+connection with the French school, she said. No; she had thought it well
+over; I must ask leave of the French professors to study in the North,
+and bring back notes about those distant Thulians. Says she, 'Your
+studies in that savage island will be allowed to go for something here,
+if you improve your time--and you will be sure to, sweetheart--that I
+may be always proud of you.' Dear Cornelia!”
+
+“Am I to believe all this?” said Vizard. “Can women be such true
+friends?”
+
+“What cannot women be? What! are you one of those who take us for a
+_clique?_ Don't you know more than half mankind are women?”
+
+“Alas!”
+
+“Alas for them!” said Rhoda, sharply.
+
+“Well, well,” said Vizard, putting on sudden humility, “don't let us
+quarrel. I hate quarreling--where I'm sure to get the worst. Ay,
+friendship is a fine thing, in men or women; a far nobler sentiment than
+love. You will not admit that, of course, being a woman.”
+
+“Oh, yes, I will,” said she. “Why, I have observed love attentively; and
+I pronounce it a fever of the mind. It disturbs the judgment and perverts
+the conscience. You side with the beloved, right or wrong. What personal
+degradation! I observe, too, that a grand passion is a grand misfortune:
+they are always in a storm of hope, fears, doubt, jealousy, rapture,
+rage, and the end deceit, or else satiety. Friendship is steady and
+peaceful; not much jealousy, no heart-burnings. It strengthens with time,
+and survives the small-pox and a wooden leg. It doubles our joys, and
+divides our grief, and lights and warms our lives with a steady flame.
+_Solem e mundo tollunt, qui tollunt amicitiam.”_
+
+“Halloo!” cried Vizard. “What! you know Latin too?”
+
+“Why, of course--a smattering; or how could I read Pliny, and Celsus, and
+ever so much more rubbish that custom chucks down before the gates of
+knowledge, and says, 'There--before you go the right road, you ought to
+go the wrong; _it is usual._ Study now, with the reverence they don't
+deserve, the non-observers of antiquity.'”
+
+“Spare me the ancients, Miss Gale,” said Vizard, “and reveal me the girl
+of the period. When I was so ill-bred as to interrupt you, you had left
+France, crowned with laurels, and were just invading Britain.”
+
+Something in his words or his tone discouraged the subtle observer, and
+she said, coldly, “Excuse me: I have hardly the courage. My British
+history is a tale of injustice, suffering, insult, and, worst of all,
+defeat. I cannot promise to relate it with that composure whoever
+pretends to science ought: the wound still bleeds.”
+
+Then Vizard was vexed with himself, and looked grave and concerned. He
+said, gently, “Miss Gale, I am sorry to give you pain; but what you have
+told me is so new and interesting, I shall be disappointed if you
+withhold the rest: besides, you know it gives no lasting pain to relate
+our griefs. Come, come--be brave, and tell me.”
+
+“Well, I will,” said she. “Indeed, some instinct moves me. Good may come
+of my telling it you. I think--somehow--you are--a--just--man.”
+
+In the act of saying this, she fixed her gray eyes steadily and
+searchingly upon Vizard's face, so that he could scarcely meet them, they
+were so powerful; then, suddenly, the observation seemed to die out of
+them, and reflection to take its place: those darting eyes were turned
+inward. It was a marked variety of power. There was something wizard-like
+in the vividness with which two distinct mental processes were presented
+by the varied action of a single organ; and Vizard then began to suspect
+that a creature stood before him with a power of discerning and digesting
+truth, such as he had not yet encountered either in man or woman. She
+entered on her British adventures in her clear silvery voice. It was not,
+like Ina Klosking's, rich, and deep, and tender; yet it had a certain
+gentle beauty to those who love truth, because it was dispassionate, yet
+expressive, and cool, yet not cold. One might call it truth's silver
+trumpet.
+
+
+On the brink of an extraordinary passage, I pause to make no fewer than
+three remarks in my own person: 1st. Let no reader of mine allow himself
+to fancy Rhoda Gale and her antecedents are a mere excrescence of my
+story. She was rooted to it even before the first scene of it--the
+meeting of Ashmead and the Klosking--and this will soon appear. 2d. She
+is now going into a controverted matter; and, though she is sincere and
+truthful, she is of necessity a _partisan._ Do not take her for a judge.
+You be the judge. 3d. But, as a judge never shuts his mind to either
+side, do not refuse her a fair hearing. Above all, do not underrate the
+question. Let not the balance of your understanding be so upset by
+ephemeral childishness as to fancy that it matters much whether you break
+an egg top or bottom, because Gulliver's two nations went to war about
+it; or that it matters much whether your queen is called queen of India
+or empress, because two parties made a noise about it, and the country
+has wasted ten thousand square miles of good paper on the subject,
+trivial as the dust on a butterfly's wing. Fight against these illusions
+of petty and ephemeral minds. It does not matter the millionth of a straw
+to _mankind_ whether any one woman is called queen, or empress, of India;
+and it matters greatly to mankind whether the whole race of women are to
+be allowed to study medicine and practice it, if they can rival the male,
+or are to be debarred from testing their scientific ability, and so
+outlawed, _though taxed_ in defiance of British liberty, and all justice,
+human and divine, by eleven hundred lawgivers--most of 'em fools.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+“WHEN I reached Great Britain, the right of women to medicine was in this
+condition--a learned lawyer explained it carefully to me. I will give you
+his words: The unwritten law of every nation admits all mankind, and not
+the male half only, to the study and practice of medicine and the sale of
+drugs. In Great Britain this law is called the common law and is deeply
+respected. Whatever liberty it allows to men or women is held sacred in
+our courts until _directly_ and _explicitly_ withdrawn by some act of the
+Legislature. Under this ancient liberty, women have occasionally
+practiced general medicine and surgery up to the year 1858. But for
+centuries they _monopolized,_ by custom, one branch of practice, the
+obstetric; and that, together with the occasional treatment of children,
+and the nursing of both sexes, which is semi-medical, and is their
+_monopoly,_ seems, on the whole, to have contented them, till late years,
+when their views were enlarged by wider education and other causes. But
+their abstinence from general practice, like their monopoly of
+obstetrics, lay with women themselves, and not with the law of England.
+That law is the same in this respect as the common law of Italy and
+France; and the constitution of Bologna, where so many doctresses have
+filled the chairs of medicine and other sciences, makes no more direct
+provision for female students than does the constitution of any Scotch or
+English university.--The whole thing lay with the women themselves, and
+with local civilization. Years ago, Italy was far more civilized than
+England; so Italian women took a large sphere. Of late the Anglo-Saxon
+has gone in for civilization with his usual energy, and is eclipsing
+Italy; therefore his women aspire to larger spheres of intellect and
+action, beginning in the States, because American women are better
+educated than English. The advance of _women_ in useful attainments is
+the most infallible sign in any country of advancing civilization. All
+this about civilization is my observation, sir, and not the lawyer's. Now
+for the lawyer again: Such being the law of England, the British
+Legislature passed an act in 1858, the real object of which was to
+protect the public against incapable doctors, not against capable
+doctresses or doctors. The act excludes from medical practice all persons
+whatever, male or female, unless registered in a certain register; and to
+get upon that register the person, male or female, must produce a license
+or diploma, granted by one of the British examining boards specified in a
+schedule attached to the act.
+
+“Now, these examining boards were all members of the leading medical
+schools. If the Legislature had taken the usual precaution, and had added
+a clause _compelling_ those boards to examine worthy applicants, the act
+would have been a sound public measure; but for want of that
+foresight--and without foresight a lawgiver is an impostor and a public
+pest--the State robbed women of their old common-law rights with one
+hand, and with the other enabled a respectable trades-union to thrust
+them out of their new statutory rights. Unfortunately, the respectable
+union, to whom the Legislature delegated an unconstitutional power they
+did not claim themselves, of excluding qualified persons from
+examination, and so robbing them of their license and their bread, had an
+overpowering interest to exclude qualified women from medicine. They had
+the same interest as the watchmakers' union, the printers', the painters'
+on china, the calico-engravers', and others have to exclude qualified
+women from those branches, though peculiarly fitted for them; but not
+more so than they are for the practice of medicine, God having made
+_them,_ and not _men,_ the medical, and unmusical, sex.
+
+“Wherever there's a trades-union, the weakest go to the wall. Those
+vulgar unions I have mentioned exclude women from skilled labor they
+excel in, by violence and conspiracy, though the law threatens them with
+imprisonment for it. Was it in nature, then, that the medical union would
+be infinitely forbearing, when the Legislature went and patted it on the
+back, and said, you can conspire with safety against your female rivals.
+Of course the clique were tempted more than any clique could bear by the
+unwariness of the Legislature, and closed the doors of the medical
+schools to female applicants. Against unqualified female practitioners
+they never acted with such zeal and consent; and why? The female quack is
+a public pest, and a good foil to the union; the qualified doctress is a
+public good, and a blow to the union.
+
+“The British medical union was now in a fine attitude by act of
+Parliament. It could talk its contempt of medical women, and act its
+terror of them, and keep both its feigned contempt and its real alarm
+safe from the test of a public examination--that crucible in which cant,
+surmise, and mendacity are soon evaporated or precipitated, and only the
+truth stands firm.
+
+“For all that, two female practitioners got upon the register, and stand
+out, living landmarks of experience and the truth, in the dead wilderness
+of surmise and prejudice.
+
+“I will tell you how they got in. The act of Parliament makes two
+exceptions: first, it lets in, _without examination_--and that is very
+unwise--any foreign doctor who shall be practicing in England at the date
+of the act, although, with equal incapacity, it omits to provide that any
+future foreign doctor shall be able to _demand examination_ (in with the
+old foreign fogies, blindfold, right or wrong; out with the rising
+foreign luminaries of an ever-advancing science, right or wrong); and,
+secondly, it lets in, without examination, to experiment on the vile body
+of the public, any person, qualified or unqualified, who may have been
+made a doctor by a very venerable and equally irrelevant functionary.
+Guess, now, who it is that a British Parliament sets above the law, as a
+doctor-maker for that public it professes to love and protect!”
+
+“The Regius Professor of Medicine?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Tyndall?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Huxley?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Then I give it up.”
+
+“The Archbishop of Canterbury.”
+
+“Oh, come! a joke is a joke.”
+
+“This is no joke. Bright monument of British funkyism and imbecility,
+there stands the clause setting that reverend and irrelevant doctor-maker
+above the law, which sets his grace's female relations below the law,
+and, in practice, outlaws the whole female population, starving those who
+desire to practice medicine learnedly, and oppressing those who, out of
+modesty, not yet quite smothered by custom and monopoly, desire to
+consult a learned female physician, instead of being driven, like sheep,
+by iron tyranny--in a country that babbles Liberty--to a male physician
+or a female quack.
+
+“Well, sir, in 1849 Miss Elizabeth Blackwell fought the good fight in the
+United States, and had her troubles; because the States were not so
+civilized then as now. She graduated doctor at Geneva, in the State of
+New York.
+
+“She was practicing in England in 1858, and demanded her place on the
+register. She is an Englishwoman by birth; but she is an English M.D.
+only through America having more brains than Britain. This one islander
+sings, 'Hail, Columbia!' as often as 'God save the Queen!' I reckon.
+
+“Miss Garrett, an enthusiastic student, traveled north, south, east, and
+west, and knocked in vain at the doors of every great school and
+university in Britain, but at last found a chink in the iron shutters of
+the London Apothecaries'. It seems Parliament was wiser in 1815 than in
+1858, for it inserted a clause in the Apothecaries Act of 1815
+_compelling_ them to examine all persons who should apply to them for
+examination after proper courses of study. Their charter contained no
+loop-hole to evade the act, and substitute 'him' for 'person;' so they
+let Miss Garrett in as a student. Like all the students, she had to
+attend lectures on chemistry botany, materia medica, zoology, natural
+philosophy, and clinical surgery. In the collateral subjects they let her
+sit with the male students; but in anatomy and surgery she had to attend
+the same lectures privately, and pay for lectures all to herself. This
+cost her enormous fees. However, it is only fair to say that, if she had
+been one of a dozen female students, the fees would have been diffused;
+as it was, she had to gild the pill out of her private purse.
+
+“In the hospital teaching she met difficulties and discouragement, though
+she asked for no more opportunities than are granted readily to
+professional nurses and female amateurs. But the whole thing is a mere
+money question; that is the key to every lock in it.
+
+“She was freely admitted at last to one great hospital, and all went
+smoothly till some surgeon examined the students _viva voce;_ then Miss
+Garrett was off her guard, and displayed too marked a superiority;
+thereupon the male students played the woman, and begged she might be
+excluded; and, I am sorry to say, for the credit of your sex, this
+unmanly request was complied with by the womanish males in power.
+
+“However, at her next hospital, Miss Garrett was more discreet, and took
+pains to conceal her galling superiority.
+
+“All her trouble ended--where her competitors' began--at the public
+examination. She passed brilliantly, and is an English apothecary. In
+civilized France she is a learned physician.
+
+“She had not been an apothecary a week, before the Apothecaries' Society
+received six hundred letters from the medical small-fry in town and
+country; they threatened to send no more boys to the Apothecaries', but
+to the College of Surgeons, if ever another woman received an
+apothecary's license. Now, you know, all men tremble in England at the
+threats of a trades-union; so the apothecaries instantly cudgeled their
+brains to find a way to disobey the law, and obey the union. The medical
+press gave them a hint, and they passed a by-law, forbidding their
+students to receive any part of their education _privately,_ and made it
+known, at the same time, that their female students would not be allowed
+to study the leading subjects _publicly._ And so they baffled the
+Legislature, and outlawed half the nation, by a juggle which the press
+and the public would have risen against, if a single grown-up man had
+been its victim, instead of four million adult women. Now, you are a
+straightforward man; what do you think of that?”
+
+“Humph!” said Vizard. “I do not altogether approve it. The strong should
+not use the arts of the weak in fighting the weak. But, in spite of your
+eloquence, I mean to forgive them anything. Shakespeare has provided
+there with an excuse that fits all time:
+
+“'Our poverty, but not our will, consents.'”
+
+“Poverty! the poverty of a company in the city of London! _Allons donc._
+Well, sir, for years after this all Europe, even Russia, advanced in
+civilization, and opened their medical schools to women; so did the
+United States: only the pig-headed Briton stood stock-still, and gloried
+in his minority of one; as if one small island is likely to be right in
+its monomania, and all civilized nations wrong.
+
+“But while I was studying in France, one lion-hearted Englishwoman was
+moving our native isle. First she tried the University of London; and
+that sets up for a liberal foundation. Answer--'Our charter is expressly
+framed to exclude women from medical instruction.'
+
+“Then she sat down to besiege Edinburgh. Now, Edinburgh is a very
+remarkable place. It has only half the houses, but ten times the
+intellect, of Liverpool or Manchester. And the university has two
+advantages as a home of _science_ over the English universities: it is
+far behind them in Greek, which is the language of error and nescience,
+and before them in English, and that is a tongue a good deal of knowledge
+is printed in. Edinburgh is the only center of British literature, except
+London.
+
+“One medical professor received the pioneer with a concise severity, and
+declined to hear her plead her cause, and one received her almost
+brutally. He said, 'No respectable woman would apply to him to study
+medicine.' Now, respectable women were studying it all over Europe.”
+
+“Well, but perhaps his soul lived in an island.”
+
+“That is so. However, personal applicants must expect a rub or two; and
+most of the professors, in and out of medicine, treated her with kindness
+and courtesy.
+
+“Still, she found even the friendly professors alarmed at the idea of a
+woman matriculating, and becoming _Civis Edinensis;_ so she made a
+moderate application to the Senate, viz., for leave to attend medical
+lectures. This request was indorsed by a majority of the medical
+professors, and granted. But on the appeal of a few medical professors
+against it, the Senate suspended its resolution, on the ground that there
+was only one applicant.
+
+“This got wind, and other ladies came into the field directly, your
+humble servant among them. Then the Senate felt bound to recommend the
+University Court to admit such female students to matriculate as could
+pass the preliminary examination; this is in history, logic, languages,
+and other branches; and we prepared for it in good faith. It was a happy
+time: after a good day's work, I used to go up the Calton Hill, or
+Arthur's Seat, and view the sea, and the Piraens, and the violet hills,
+and the romantic undulations of the city itself, and my heart glowed with
+love of knowledge, and with honorable ambition. I ran over the names of
+worthy women who had adorned medicine at sundry times and in divers
+places, and resolved to deserve as great a name as any in history.
+Refreshed by my walk--I generally walked eight miles, and practiced
+gymnastics to keep my muscles hard--I used to return to my little
+lodgings; and they too were sweet to me, for I was learning a new
+science--logic.”
+
+“That was a nut to crack.”
+
+“I have met few easier or sweeter. One non-observer had told me it was a
+sham science, and mere pedantry; another, that it pretended to show men a
+way to truth without observing. I found, on the contrary, that it was a
+very pretty little science, which does not affect to discover phenomena,
+but simply to guard men against rash generalization, and false deductions
+from true data; it taught me the untrained world is brimful of fallacies
+and verbal equivoques that ought not to puzzle a child, but, whenever
+they creep into an argument, do actually confound the learned and the
+simple alike, and all for want of a month's logic.
+
+“Yes, I was happy on the hill, and happy by the hearth; and so things
+went on till the preliminary examination came. It was not severe; we
+ladies all passed with credit, though many of the male aspirants failed.”
+
+“How do you account for that?” asked Vizard.
+
+“With my eyes. I _observe_ that the average male is very superior in
+intellect to the average female; and I _observe_ that the picked female
+is immeasurably more superior to the average male, than the average male
+is to the average female.”
+
+“Is it so simple as that?”
+
+“Ay; why not? What! are you one of those who believe that Truth is
+obscure--hides herself--and lies in a well? I tell you, _sir,_ Truth
+lies in no well. The place Truth lies in is--_the middle of the turnpike
+road._ But one old fogy puts on his green spectacles to look for her, and
+another his red, and another his blue; and so they all miss her, because
+she is a colorless diamond. Those spectacles are preconceived notions,
+_'a priori_ reasoning, cant, prejudice, the depth of Mr. Shallow's inner
+consciousness, etc., etc. Then comes the observer, opens the eyes that
+God has given him, tramples on all colored spectacles, and finds Truth as
+surely as the spectacled theorists miss her. Say that the intellect of
+the average male is to the average female as ten to six, it is to the
+intellect of the picked female as ten to a hundred and fifty, or even
+less. Now, the intellect of the male Edinburgh student was much above
+that of the average male, but still it fell far below that of the picked
+female. All the examinations at Edinburgh showed this to all God's
+unspectacled creatures that used their eyes.”
+
+These remarks hit Vizard hard. They accorded with his own good sense and
+method of arguing; but perhaps my more careful readers may have already
+observed this. He nodded hearty approval for once, and she went on:
+
+“We had now a right to matriculate and enter on our medical course. But,
+to our dismay, the right was suspended. The proofs of our general
+proficiency, which we hoped would reconcile the professors to us as
+students of medicine, alarmed people, and raised us unscrupulous enemies
+in some who were justly respected, and others who had influence, though
+they hardly deserved it.
+
+“A general council of the university was called to reconsider the pledge
+the Senate had given us, and overawe the university court by the weight
+of academic opinion. The court itself was fluctuating, and ready to turn
+either way. A large number of male students co-operated against us with a
+petition. They, too, were a little vexed at our respectable figure in the
+preliminary examination.
+
+“The assembly met and the union orator got up; he was a preacher of the
+Gospel, and carried the weight of that office. Christianity, as well as
+science, seemed to rise against us in his person. He made a long and
+eloquent speech, based on the intelligent surmises and popular prejudices
+that were diffused in a hundred leading articles, and in letters to the
+editor by men and women, to whom history was a dead letter in modern
+controversies; for the Press battled this matter for two years, and
+furnished each party with an artillery of reasons, _pro_ and _con._
+
+“He said, 'Woman's sphere is the hearth and the home: to impair her
+delicacy is to take the bloom from the peach: she could not qualify for
+medicine without mastering anatomy and surgery--branches that must unsex
+her. Providence, intending her to be man's helpmate, not his rival, had
+given her a body unfit for war or hard labor, and a brain four ounces
+lighter than a man's, and unable to cope with long study and practical
+science. In short, she was too good, and too stupid, for medicine.'
+
+“It was eloquent, but it was _'a priori_ reasoning, and conjecture
+_versus_ evidence: yet the applause it met with showed one how happy is
+the orator 'qui hurle avec les loups.' Taking the scientific preacher's
+whole theory in theology and science, woman was high enough in creation
+to be the mother of God, but not high enough to be a sawbones.
+
+“Well, a professor of _belles-lettres_ rose on our side, not with a rival
+theory, but with facts. He was a pupil of Lord Bacon, and a man of the
+nineteenth century; so he objected to _'a priori_ reasoning on a matter
+of experience. To settle the question of capacity he gave a long list of
+women who had been famous in science. Such as Bettesia Gozzadini, Novella
+Andrea, Novella Calderini, Maddelena Buonsignori, and many more, who were
+doctors of law and university professors: Dorotea Bocohi, who was
+professor both of philosophy and medicine; Laura Bassi, who was elected
+professor of philosophy in 1732 by acclamation, and afterward professor
+of experimental physics; Anna Manzolini, professor of anatomy in 1760;
+Gaetaua Agnesi, professor of mathematics; Christina Roccati, doctor of
+philosophy in 1750; Clotilde Tambroni, professor of Greek in 1793; Maria
+Dalle Donne, doctor of medicine in 1799; Zaffira Ferretti, doctor of
+medicine in 1800; Maria Sega, doctor of medicine in 1799; Madalena Noe,
+graduate of civil law in 1807. Ladies innumerable, who graduated in law
+and medicine at Pavia, Ferrara, and Padua, including Elena Lucrezia
+Cornaro of Padua, a very famous woman. Also in Salamanca, Alcala',
+Cordova, he named more than one famous doctress. Also in Heidelberg,
+Gottingen, Giessen, Wurzburg, etc., and even at Utrect, with numberless
+graduates in the arts and faculties at Montpellier and Paris in all ages.
+Also outside reputations, as of Doctor Bouvin and her mother,
+acknowledged celebrities in their branch of medicine. This chain, he
+said, has never been really broken. There was scarcely a great foreign
+university without some female student of high reputation. There were
+such women at Vienna and Petersburg; many such at Zurich. At Montpellier
+Mademoiselle Doumergue was carrying all before her, and Miss Garrett and
+Miss Mary Putnam at Paris, though they were weighted in the race by a
+foreign language. Let the male English physician pass a stiff examination
+in scientific French before he brayed so loud. He had never done it yet.
+This, he said, is not an age of chimeras; it is a wise and wary age,
+which has established in all branches of learning a sure test of ability
+in man or woman--public examination followed by a public report. These
+public examinations are all conducted by males, and women are passing
+them triumphantly all over Europe and America, and graduate as doctors in
+every civilized country, and even in half-civilized Russia.
+
+“He then went into our own little preliminary examination, and gave the
+statistics: In Latin were examined 55 men and 3 women: 10 men were
+rejected, but no women; 7 men were respectable, 7 _optimi,_ or
+first-rate, 1 woman _bona,_ and 1 _optima._ In mathematics were examined
+67 men and 4 women, of whom 1 woman was _optima,_ and 1 _bona:_ 10 men
+were _optimi,_ and 25 _boni;_ the rest failed. In German 2 men were
+examined, and 1 woman: 1 man was good, and 1 woman. In logic 28 men were
+examined, and 1 woman: the woman came out fifth in rank, and she had only
+been at it a month. In moral philosophy 16 men were examined; and 1
+woman: the woman came out third. In arithmetic, 51 men and 3 women: 2 men
+were _optimi,_ and 1 woman _optima;_ several men failed, and not one
+woman. In mechanics, 81 men and 1 woman: the woman passed with fair
+credit, as did 13 men; the rest failing. In French were examined 58 men
+and 4 women: 3 men and 1 woman were respectable; 8 men and 1 woman
+passed; two women attained the highest excellence, _optimoe,_ and not one
+man. In English, 63 men and 3 women: 3 men were good, and 1 woman; but 2
+women were _optimoe,_ and only 1 man.”
+
+“Fancy you remembering figures like that,” said Vizard.
+
+“It is all training and habit,” said she, simply.
+
+“As to the study and practice of medicine degrading women, he asked if it
+degraded men. No; it elevated them. They could not contradict him on that
+point. He declined to believe, without a particle of evidence, that any
+science could elevate the higher sex and degrade the lower. What evidence
+we had ran against it. Nurses are not, as a class, unfeminine, yet all
+that is most appalling, disgusting, horrible, and _unsexing_ in the art
+of healing is monopolized by them., Women see worse things than doctors.
+Women nurse all the patients of both sexes, often under horrible and
+sickening conditions, and lay out all the corpses. No doctor objects to
+this on sentimental grounds; and why? Because the nurses get only a
+guinea a week, and not a guinea a flying visit: to women the loathsome
+part of medicine; to man the lucrative! The noble nurses of the Crimea
+went to attend _males only,_ yet were not charged with indelicacy. They
+worked gratis. The would-be doctresses look _mainly to attending women,_
+but then they want to be paid for it: there was the rub--it was a mere
+money question, and all the attempts of the union to hide this and play
+the sentimental shop-man were transparent hypocrisy and humbug.
+
+“A doctor justly revered in Edinburgh answered him, but said nothing new
+nor effective; and, to our great joy, the majority went with us.
+
+“Thus encouraged, the university court settled the matter. We were
+admitted to matriculate and study medicine, under certain conditions, to
+which I beg your attention.
+
+“The instruction of women for the profession of medicine was to be
+conducted in separate classes confined entirely to women.
+
+“The professors of the Faculty of Medicine should, for this purpose, be
+permitted to have separate classes for women.
+
+“All these regulations were approved by the chancellor, and are to this
+day a part of the law of that university.
+
+“We ladies, five in number, but afterward seven, were matriculated and
+registered professional students of medicine, and passed six delightful
+months we now look back upon as if it was a happy dream.
+
+“We were picked women, all in earnest. We deserved respect, and we met
+with it. The teachers were kind, and we attentive and respectful: the
+students were courteous, and we were affable to them, but discreet.
+Whatever seven young women could do to earn esteem, and reconcile even
+our opponents to the experiment, we did. There was not an anti-student,
+or downright flirt, among us; and, indeed, I have observed that an
+earnest love of study and science controls the amorous frivolity of women
+even more than men's. Perhaps our heads are really _smaller_ than men's,
+and we haven't room in them to be like Solomon--extremely wise and arrant
+fools.
+
+“This went on until the first professional examination; but, after the
+examination, the war, to our consternation, recommenced. Am I, then,
+bad-hearted for thinking there must have been something in that
+examination which roused the sleeping spirit of trades-unionism?”
+
+“It seems probable.”
+
+“Then view that probability by the light of fact:
+
+“In physiology the male students were 127; in chemistry, 226; 25 obtained
+honors in physiology; 31 in chemistry.
+
+“In physiology and chemistry there were five women. One obtained honors
+in physiology alone; four obtained honors in both physiology and
+chemistry.
+
+“So, you see, the female students beat the male students in physiology at
+the rate of five to one; and in chemistry, seven and three-quarters to
+one.
+
+“But, horrible to relate, one of the ladies eclipsed twenty-nine out of
+the thirty-one gentlemen who took _honors_ in chemistry. In capacity she
+surpassed them all; for the two, who were above her, obtained only two
+marks more than she did, yet they had been a year longer at the study.
+This entitled her to 'a Hope Scholarship' for that year.
+
+“Would you believe it? the scholarship was refused her--in utter defiance
+of the founder's conditions--on the idle pretext that she had studied at
+a different hour from the male students, and therefore was not a member
+of the chemistry class.”
+
+“Then why admit her to the competition?” said Vizard.
+
+“Why? because the _'a priori_ reasoners took for granted she would be
+defeated. Then the cry would have been, 'You had your chance; we let you
+try for the Hope Scholarship; but you could not win it.' Having won it,
+she was to be cheated out of it somehow, or anyhow. The separate-class
+system was not that lady's fault; she would have preferred to pay the
+university lecturer lighter fees, and attend a better lecture with the
+male students. The separate class was an unfavorable condition of study,
+which the university imposed on us, as the condition of admitting us to
+the professional study of medicine? Surely, then, to cheat that lady out
+of her Hope Scholarship, when she had earned it under conditions of study
+enforced and unfavorable, was perfidious and dishonest. It was even a
+little ungrateful to the injured sex; for the money which founded these
+scholarships was women's money, every penny of it. The good Professor
+Hope had lectured to ladies fifty years ago; had taken their fees, and
+founded his scholarships with their money: and it would have done his
+heart good to see a lady win and wear that prize which, but for his
+female pupils, would never have existed. But it is easy to trample on a
+dead man: as easy as on living women.
+
+“The perfidy was followed by ruthless tyranny. They refused to admit the
+fair criminal to the laboratory, 'else,' said they, 'she'll defeat more
+men.
+
+“That killed her, as a chemist. It gave inferior male students too great
+an advantage over her. And so the public and Professor Hope were
+sacrificed to a trades-union, and lost a great analytical chemist, and
+something more--she had, to my knowledge, a subtle diagnosis. Now we have
+at present no _great_ analyst, and the few competent analysts we have do
+not possess diagnosis in proportion. They can find a few poisons in the
+dead, but they are slow to discover them in the living; so they are not
+to be counted on to save a life, where crime is administering poison.
+That woman could, and would, I think.
+
+“They drove her out of chemistry, wherein she was a genius, into surgery,
+in which she was only a talent. She is now house-surgeon in a great
+hospital, and the public has lost a great chemist and diagnostic
+physician combined.
+
+“Up to the date of this enormity, the Press had been pretty evenly
+divided for and against us. But now, to their credit, they were
+unanimous, and reprobated the juggle as a breach of public faith and
+plain morality. Backed by public opinion, one friendly professor took
+this occasion to move the university to relax the regulation of separate
+classes since it had been abused. He proposed that the female students
+should be admitted to the ordinary classes.
+
+“This proposal was negatived by 58 to 47.
+
+“This small majority was gained by a characteristic maneuver. The queen's
+name was gravely dragged in as disapproving the proposal, when, in fact,
+it could never have been submitted to her, or her comment, if any, must
+have been in writing; and as to the general question, she has never said
+a public word against medical women. She has too much sense not to ask
+herself how can any woman be fit to be a queen, with powers of life and
+death, if no woman is fit to be so small a thing, by comparison, as a
+physician or a surgeon.
+
+“We were victims of a small majority, obtained by imagination playing
+upon flunkyism, and the first result was we were not allowed to sit down
+to botany with males. Mind you, we might have gathered blackberries with
+them in umbrageous woods from morn till dewy eve, and not a professor
+shocked in the whole faculty; but we must not sit down with them to an
+intellectual dinner of herbs, and listen, in their company, to the
+pedantic terms and childish classifications of botany, in which kindred
+properties are ignored. Only the male student must be told in public that
+a fox-glove is _Digitalis purpurea_ in the improved nomenclature of
+science, and crow-foot is _Ranunculus sceleratus,_ and the buck-bean is
+_Menyanthis trifoliata,_ and mugwort is _Artemesia Judaica;_ that, having
+lost the properties of hyssop known to Solomon, we regain our superiority
+over that learned Hebrew by christening it _Gratiola officinalis._ The
+sexes must not be taught in one room to discard such ugly and
+inexpressive terms as snow-drop, meadow-sweet, heart's-ease, fever-few,
+cowslip, etc., and learn to know the cowslip as _Primula veris_--by
+class, _Pentandria monogynia;_ and the buttercup as _Ranunculus
+acnis_--_Polyandria monogynia;_ the snow-drop as _Galanthus
+nivalis_--_Hexandria monogynia;_ and the meadow-sweet as _Ulnaria;_ the
+heart's ease as _Viola tricolor;_ and the daisy as _Bellis
+perennis_--_Syngenesia superflua.”_
+
+“Well,” said Vizard, “I think the individual names can only hurt the jaws
+and other organs of speech. But the classification! Is the mild luster of
+science to be cast over the natural disposition of young women toward
+_Polyandria monogynia?_ Is trigamy to be identified in their sweet souls
+with floral innocence, and their victims sitting by?”
+
+“Such classifications are puerile and fanciful,” said Miss Gale; “but,
+for that very reason, they don't infect _animals_ with trigamy. Novels
+are much more likely to do that.”
+
+“Especially ladies' novels,” suggested Vizard, meekly.
+
+“Some,” suggested the accurate Rhoda. “But the sexes will never lose
+either morals or delicacy through courses of botany endured together. It
+will not hurt young ladies a bit to tell them in the presence of young
+gentlemen that a cabbage is a thalamifioral exogen, and its stamens are
+tetradynamous; nor that the mushroom, _Psalliata campestris,_ and the
+toad-stool, _Myoena campestris,_ are confounded by this science in one
+class, _Cryptogamia._ It will not even hurt them to be told that the
+properties of the _Arum maculatum_ are little known, but that the males
+are crowded round the center of the spadix, and the females seated at the
+base.”
+
+Said Vizard, pompously, “The pulpit and the tea-table are centers of
+similar phenomena. Now I think of it, the pulpit is a very fair calyx,
+but the tea-table is sadly squat.”
+
+“Yes, sir. But, more than that, not one of these pedants who growled at
+promiscuous botany has once objected to promiscuous dancing, not even
+with the gentleman's arm round the lady's waist, which the custom of
+centuries cannot render decent. Yet the professors of delicacy connive,
+and the Mother Geese sit smirking at the wall. Oh, world of hypocrites
+and humbugs!”
+
+“I am afraid you are an upsetter general,” said Vizard. “But you are
+abominably sincere; and all this is a curious chapter of human nature.
+Pray proceed.”
+
+Miss Gale nodded gravely, and resumed.
+
+“So much public ridicule fell on the union for this, and the blind
+flunkyism which could believe the queen had meddled in the detail, that
+the professors melted under it, and threw open botany and natural history
+to us, with other collateral sciences.
+
+“Then came the great fight, which is not ended yet.
+
+“To qualify for medicine and pass the stiff examination, by which the
+public is very properly protected, you must be versed in anatomy and
+clinical surgery. Books and lectures do not suffice for this, without the
+human subject--alive and dead. The university court knew that very well
+when it matriculated us, and therefore it provided for our instruction by
+promising us separate classes.
+
+“Backed by this public pledge, we waited on the university professor of
+anatomy to arrange our fees for a separate lecture. He flatly refused to
+instruct us separately for love or money, or to permit his assistants.
+That meant, 'The union sees a way to put you in a cleft stick and cheat
+you out of your degree, in spite of the pledge the university has given
+you; in spite of your fees, and of your time given to study in reliance
+on the promise.'
+
+“This was a heavy blow. But there was an extramural establishment called
+Surgeons' Hall, and the university formally recognized all the lecturers
+in this Hall; so we applied to those lecturers, and they were shocked at
+the illiberality of the university professors, and admitted us at once to
+mixed classes. We attended lectures with the male students on anatomy and
+surgery, and _of all the anticipated evils, not one took place, sir._
+
+“The objections to mixed classes proved to be idle words; yet the
+old-fashioned minds opposed to us shut their eyes and went on reasoning
+_'a priori,_ and proving that the evils which they saw did not arise
+_must_ arise should the experiment of mixed classes, which was then
+succeeding, ever he tried.
+
+“To qualify us for examination we now needed but one thing more--hospital
+practice. The infirmary is supported not so much by the university as the
+town. We applied, therefore, with some confidence, for the permission
+usually conceded to medical students. The managers refused us the _town
+infirmary._ Then we applied to the subscribers. The majority, not
+belonging to a trades-union, declared in our favor, and intimated plainly
+that they would turn out the illiberal managers at the next election of
+managers.
+
+“But by this time the war was hot and general, and hard blows dealt on
+both sides. It was artfully suppressed by our enemies in the profession
+and in the Press that we had begged hard for the separate class which had
+been promised us in anatomy, and permission to attend, by ourselves, a
+limited number of wards in the infirmary; and on this falsehood by
+suppression worse calumnies were built.
+
+“I shall tell you what we really were, and what foul mouths and pens
+insinuated we must be.
+
+“Two accomplished women had joined us, and we were now the seven wise
+virgins of a half-civilized nation, and, if I know black from white, we
+were seven of its brightest ornaments. We were seven ladies, who wished
+to be doctresses, especially devoted to our own sex; seven good students,
+who went on our knees to the university for those separate classes in
+anatomy and clinical surgery which the university was bound in honor to
+supply us; but, our prayer rejected, said to the university, 'Well, use
+your own discretion about separate or mixed classes; but for your own
+credit, and that of human nature, do not willfully tie a hangman's noose
+to throttle the weak and deserving, and don't cheat seven poor,
+hard-working, meritorious women, your own matriculated students, out of
+our entrance-fees, which lie to this day in the university coffers, out
+of the exceptionally heavy fees we have paid to your professors, out of
+all the fruit of our hard study, out of our diplomas, and our bread.
+Solve the knot your own way. We will submit to mixed classes, or
+anything, except professional destruction.'
+
+“In this spirit our lion-hearted leader wrote the letter of an uninjured
+dove, and said there were a great many more wards in the infirmary than
+any male student could or did attend; we would be content to divide the
+matter thus: the male students to have the monopoly of two-thirds, we to
+have the bare right of admission to one-third. By this the male students
+(if any) who had a sincere objection to study the sick, and witness
+operations, in our company, could never be troubled with us; and we,
+though less favored than the male students, could just manage to qualify
+for that public examination, which was to prove whether we could make
+able physicians or not.
+
+“Sir, this gentle proposal was rejected with rude scorn, and in
+aggressive terms. Such is the spirit of a trades-union.
+
+“Having now shown you what we were, I will now tell you what our enemies,
+declining to observe our conduct, though it was very public, suggested we
+_must_ be--seven shameless women, who pursued medicine as a handle for
+sexuality; who went into the dissecting-room to dissect males, and into
+the hospital to crowd round the male patient, and who _demanded_ mixed
+classes, that we might have male companions in those studies which every
+feminine woman would avoid altogether.
+
+“This key-note struck, the public was regaled with a burst of hypocrisy
+such as Moli'ere never had the luck to witness, or oh, what a comedy he
+would have written!
+
+“The immodest sex, taking advantage of Moli'ere's decease without heirs
+of his brains, set to work in public to teach the modest sex modesty.
+
+“In the conduct of this pleasant paradox, the representatives of that
+sex, which has much courage and little modesty, were two professors--who
+conducted the paradox so judiciously that the London Press reprimanded
+them for their foul insinuations--and a number of young men called
+medical students.
+
+“Now, the medical student surpasses most young men in looseness of life,
+and indecency of mind and speech.
+
+“The representatives of womanhood to be instructed in modesty by these
+animals, old and young, were seven prudes, whose minds were devoted to
+study and honorable ambition. These women were as much above the average
+of their sex in feminine reserve and independence of the male sex as they
+were in intellect.
+
+“The average girl, who throughout this discussion was all of a sudden
+puffed as a lily, because she ceased to be _observed,_ can attend to
+nothing if a man is by; she can't work, she can't play, she is so eaten
+up with sexuality. The frivolous soul can just manage to play croquet
+with females; but, enter a man upon the scene, and she does even that
+very ill, and can hardly be got to take her turn in the only thing she
+has really given her mind to. We were angels compared with this paltry
+creature, and she was the standing butt of public censure, until it was
+found that an imaginary picture of her could be made the handle for
+insulting her betters.
+
+“Against these seven prudes, decent dotards and their foul-mouthed allies
+flung out insinuations which did not escape public censure; and the
+medical students declared their modesty was shocked at our intrusion into
+anatomy and surgery, and petitioned against us. Some of the Press were
+deceived by this for a time, and _hurlaient avec les loups._
+
+“I took up, one day, my favorite weekly, in which nearly every writer
+seems to me a scholar, and was regaled with such lines as these:
+
+“'It appears that girls are to associate with boys as medical students,
+in order that, when they become women, they may be able to speak to men
+with entire plainness upon all the subjects of a doctor's daily practice.
+
+“'In plain words, the aspirants to medicine and surgery desire to rid
+themselves speedily and effectually of that modesty which nature has
+planted in women.' And then the writer concludes: 'We beg to suggest that
+there are other places besides dissecting-rooms and hospitals where those
+ladies may relieve themselves of the modesty which they find so
+troublesome. But fathers naturally object to this being done at their
+sons' expense.”
+
+“Infamous!” cried Vizard. “One comfort, no man ever penned that. That is
+some old woman writing down young ones.”
+
+“I don't know,” said Rhoda. “I have met so many womanish men in this
+business. All I know is, that my cheeks burned, and, for once in the
+fight, scalding tears ran down them. It was as if a friend had spat upon
+me.
+
+“What a chimera! What a monstrous misinterpretation of pure minds by
+minds impure! To _us_ the dissecting-room was a temple, and the dead an
+awe, revolting to all our senses, until the knife revealed to our minds
+the Creator's hand in structural beauties that the trained can
+appreciate, if wicked dunces can't.
+
+“And as to the infirmary, we should have done just what we did at Zurich.
+We held a little aloof from the male patients, unless some good-natured
+lecturer, or pupil, gave us a signal, and then we came forward. If we
+came uninvited, we always stood behind the male students: but we did
+crowd round the beds of the female patients, and claimed the inner row:
+AND, SIR, THEY THANKED GOD FOR US OPENLY.
+
+“A few awkward revelations were made during this discussion. A medical
+student had the candor to write and say that he had been at a lecture,
+and the professor had told an indelicate story, and, finding it palatable
+to his modest males, had said, 'There, gentlemen: now, if female students
+were admitted here, I could not have told you this amusing circumstance.'
+So that it was our purifying influence he dreaded in secret, though he
+told the public he dreaded the reverse.
+
+“Again, female patients wrote to the journals to beg that female students
+might be admitted to come between them and the brutal curiosity of the
+male students, to which they were subjected in so offensive a way that
+more than one poor creature declared she had felt agonies of shame, even
+in the middle of an agonizing operation.
+
+“This being a cry from that public for whose sake the whole clique of
+physicians--male and female--exists, had, of course, no great weight in
+the union controversy.
+
+“But, sir, if grave men and women will sit calmly down and fling dirt
+upon every woman who shall aspire to medicine in an island, though she
+can do so on a neighboring continent with honor, and choose their time
+when the dirt can only fall on seven known women--since the female
+students in that island are only seven--the pretended generality becomes
+a cowardly personality, and wounds as such, and excites less
+cold-hearted, and more hot-headed blackguards to outrage. It was so at
+Philadelphia, and it was so at Edinburgh.
+
+“Our extramural teacher in anatomy was about to give a competitive
+examination. Now, on these occasions, we were particularly obnoxious.
+Often and clearly as it had been proved, by _'a priori_ reasoning, that
+we _must_ be infinitely inferior to the average male, we persisted in
+proving, by hard fact, that we were infinitely his superior; and every
+examination gave us an opportunity of crushing solid reasons under hollow
+fact.
+
+“A band of medical students determined that for once _'a priori_
+reasoning should have fair play, and not be crushed by a thing so
+illusory as fact. Accordingly, they got the gates closed, and collected
+round them. We came up, one after another, and were received with hisses,
+groans, and abusive epithets.
+
+“This mode of reasoning must have been admirably adapted to my weak
+understanding; for it convinced me at once I had no business there, and I
+was for private study directly.
+
+“But, sir, you know the ancients said, 'Better is an army of stags with a
+lion for their leader, than an army of lions with a stag for their
+leader.' Now, it so happened that we had a lioness for our leader. She
+pushed manfully through the crowd, and hammered at the door: then we
+crept quaking after. She ordered those inside to open the gates; and some
+student took shame, and did. In marched our lioness, crept after by
+her--her--”
+
+“Her cubs.”
+
+“A thousand thanks, good sir. Her does. On second thoughts, 'her hinds.'
+Doe is the female of buck. Now, I said stags. Well, the ruffians who had
+undertaken to teach us modesty swarmed in too. They dragged a sheep into
+the lecture-room, lighted pipes, produced bottles, drank, smoked, and
+abused us ladies to our faces, and interrupted the lecturer at intervals
+with their howls and ribaldry: that was intended to show the professor he
+should not be listened to any more if he admitted the female students.
+The affair got wind, and other students, not connected with medicine,
+came pouring in, with no worse motive, probably, than to see the lark.
+Some of these, however, thought the introduction of the sheep unfair to
+so respected a lecturer, and proceeded to remove her; but the professor
+put up his hand, and said, 'Oh, don't remove _her:_ she is superior in
+intellect to many persons here present.'
+
+“At the end of the lecture, thinking us in actual danger from these
+ruffians, he offered to let us out by a side door; but our lioness stood
+up and said, in a voice that rings in my ear even now, 'Thank you, sir;
+no. There are _gentlemen_ enough here to escort us safely.'
+
+“The magic of a great word from a great heart, at certain moments when
+minds are heated! At that word, sir, the scales fell from a hundred eyes;
+manhood awoke with a start, ay, and chivalry too; fifty manly fellows
+were round us in a moment, with glowing cheeks and eyes, and they carried
+us all home to our several lodgings in triumph. The cowardly caitiffs of
+the trades-union howled outside, and managed to throw a little dirt upon
+our gowns, and also hurled epithets, most of which were new to me; but it
+has since been stated by persons more versed in the language of the
+_canaille_ that no fouler terms are known to the dregs of mankind.
+
+“Thus did the immodest sex, in the person of the medical student, outrage
+seven fair samples of the modest sex--to teach them modesty.
+
+“Next morning the police magistrates dealt with a few of our teachers,
+inflicted severe rebukes on them, and feeble fines.
+
+“The craftier elders disowned the riot in public, but approved it in
+private; and continued to act in concert with it, only with cunning, not
+violence. _It caused no honest revulsion of feeling,_ except in the
+disgusted public, and they had no power to help us.
+
+“The next incident was a stormy debate by the subscribers to the
+infirmary; and here we had a little feminine revenge, which, outraged as
+we had been, I hope you will not grudge us.
+
+“Our lioness subscribed five pounds, and became entitled to vote and
+speech. As the foulest epithets had been hurled at her by the union, and
+a certain professor had told her, to her face, no respectable woman would
+come to him and propose to study medicine, she said, publicly, that she
+had come to his opinion, and respectable women would avoid him--which
+caused a laugh.
+
+“She also gave a venerable old physician, our bitter opponent, a slap
+that was not quite so fair. His attendant had been concerned in that
+outrage, and she assumed--in which she was not justified--that the old
+doctor approved. 'To be sure,' said she, 'they say he was intoxicated,
+and that is the only possible excuse.'
+
+“The old doctor had only to say that he did not control his assistants in
+the street; and his own mode of conducting the opposition, and his long
+life of honor, were there to correct this young woman's unworthy
+surmises, and she would have had to apologize for going too far on mere
+surmise. But, instead of that, he was so injudicious as to accuse her of
+foul language, and say, 'My attendant is a perfect gentleman; he would
+not be my attendant if he were not.'
+
+“Our lioness had him directly. 'Oh,' said she, 'if Dr. So-and-so prefers
+to say that his attendant committed that outrage on decency when in his
+sober senses, I am quite content.'
+
+“This was described as violent invective by people with weak memories,
+who had forgotten the nature of the outrage our lioness was commenting
+on; but in truth it was only superior skill in debate, with truth to back
+it.
+
+“For my part, I kept the police report at the time, and have compared it
+with her speech. The judicial comments on those rioters are far more
+severe than hers. The truth is it was her facts that hit too hard, not
+her expressions.
+
+“Well, sir, she obtained a majority; and those managers of the infirmary
+who objected to female students were dismissed, and others elected. At
+the same meeting the Court of Contributors passed a statute, making it
+the law of the infirmary that students should be admitted without regard
+to sex.
+
+“But as to the mere election of managers, the other party demanded a
+scrutiny of the votes, and instructive figures came out. There voted with
+us twenty-eight firms, thirty-one ladies, seven doctors.
+
+“There voted with the union fourteen firms, two ladies, _thirty-seven
+doctors,_ and three _druggists._
+
+“Thereupon the trades-union, as declared by the figures, alleged that
+firms ought not to vote. _Nota bene,_ they always had voted unchallenged
+till they voted for fair play to women.
+
+“The union served the provost with an interdict not to declare the new
+managers elected.
+
+“We applied for our tickets under the new statute, but were impudently
+refused, under the plea that the managers must first be consulted: so did
+the servants of the infirmary defy the masters in order to exclude us.
+
+“By this time the great desire of women to practice medicine had begun to
+show itself. Numbers came in and matriculated; and the pressure on the
+authorities to keep faith, and relax the dead-lock they had put us in,
+was great.
+
+“Thereupon the authorities, instead of saying, 'We have pledged ourselves
+to a great number of persons, and pocketed their fees,' took fright, and
+cast about for juggles. They affected to discover all of a sudden that
+they had acted illegally in matriculating female students. They would,
+therefore, not give back their fees, and pay them two hundred pounds
+apiece for breach of contract, but detain their fees and stop their
+studies until compelled by judicial decision to keep faith. Observe, it
+was under advice of the lord-justice-general they had matriculated us,
+and entered into a contract with us, _for fulfilling which it was not,
+and is not, in the power of any mortal man to punish them._
+
+“But these pettifoggers said this: _'We_ have acted illegally, and
+therefore not we, but _you,_ shall suffer: _we_ will _profit_ by our
+illegal act, for we will cheat you out of your fees to the university and
+your fees to its professors, as well as the seed-time of your youth that
+we have wasted.'
+
+“Now, in that country they can get the opinions of the judges by raising
+what they call an action of declarator.
+
+“One would think it was their business to go to the judges, and meantime
+give us the benefit of the legal doubt, while it lasted, and of the moral
+no-doubt, which will last till the day of judgment, and a day after.
+
+“Not a bit of it. They deliberately broke their contract with us, kept
+our fees, and cheated us out of the article we had bought of them,
+disowned all sense of morality, yet shifted the burden of law on to our
+shoulders. Litigation is long. Perfidy was in possession. Possession is
+nine points. The female students are now sitting with their hands before
+them, juggled out of their studies, in plain defiance of justice and
+public faith, waiting till time shall show them whether provincial
+lawyers can pettifog as well as trades-union doctors.
+
+“As for me, I had retired to civilized climes long before this. I used to
+write twice a week to my parents, but I withheld all mention of the
+outrage at Surgeons' Hall. I knew it would give them useless pain. But in
+three weeks or so came a letter from my father, unlike any other I ever
+knew him to write. It did not even begin, 'My dear child.' This was what
+he said (the words are engraved in my memory): 'Out of that nation of
+cowards and skunks! out of it this moment, once and forever! The States
+are your home. Draft on London inclosed. Write to me from France next
+week, or write to me no more. Graduate in France. Then come North, and
+sail from Havre to New York. You have done with Britain, and so have I,
+till our next war. Pray God that mayn't be long!'
+
+“It was like a lion's roar of anguish. I saw my dear father's heart was
+bursting with agony and rage at the insult to his daughter, and I shed
+tears for him those wretches had never drawn from me.
+
+“I had cried at being insulted by scholars in the Press; but what was it
+to me that the scum of the medical profession, which is the scum of God's
+whole creation, called me words I did not know the meaning of, and flung
+the dirt of their streets, and the filth of their souls, after me? I was
+frightened a little, that is all. But that these reptiles could wound my
+darling old lion's heart across the ocean! Sir, he was a man who could be
+keen and even severe with men, but every virtuous woman was a sacred
+thing to him. Had he seen one, though a stranger, insulted as we were, he
+would have died in her defense. He was a true American. And to think the
+dregs of mankind could wound him for his daughter, and so near the end of
+his own dear life. Oh!” She turned her head away.
+
+“My poor girl!” said Vizard, and his own voice was broken.
+
+When he said that, she gave him her hand, and seemed to cling to his a
+little; but she turned her head away from him and cried, and even
+trembled a little.
+
+But she very soon recovered herself, and said she would try to end her
+story. It had been long enough.
+
+“Sir, my father had often obeyed me; but now I knew I must obey him. I
+got testimonials in Edinburgh, and started South directly. In a week I
+was in the South of France. Oh, what a change in people's minds by mere
+change of place! The professors received me with winning courtesy; some
+hats were lifted to me in the street, with marked respect; flowers were
+sent to my lodgings by gentlemen who never once intruded, on me in
+person. I was in a civilized land. Yet there was a disappointment for me.
+I inquired for Cornelia. The wretch had just gone and married a
+professor. I feared she was up to no good, by her writing so seldom of
+late.
+
+“I sent her a line that an old friend had returned, and had not forgotten
+her, nor our mutual vows.
+
+“She came directly, and was for caressing away her crime, and dissolving
+it in crocodile tears; but I played the injured friend and the tyrant.
+
+“Then she curled round me, and coaxed, and said, 'Sweetheart, I can
+advance your interests all the better. You shall be famous for us both. I
+shall be happier in your success than in my own.'
+
+“In short, she made it very hard to hold spite; and it ended in
+feeble-minded embraces. Indeed, she _was_ of service to me. I had a favor
+to ask: I wanted leave to count my Scotch time in France.
+
+“My view was tenable; and Cornelia, by her beauty and her popularity,
+gained over all the professors to it but one. He stood out.
+
+“Well, sir, an extraordinary occurrence befriended me; no, not
+extraordinary--unusual.
+
+“I lodged on a second floor. The first floor was very handsome. A young
+Englishman and his wife took it for a week. She was musical--a real
+genius. The only woman I ever heard sing without whining; for we are, by
+nature, the medical and unmusical sex.”
+
+“So you said before.”
+
+“I know I did; and I mean to keep saying it till people see it. Well, the
+young man was taken violently and mysteriously ill; had syncope after
+syncope, and at last ceased to breathe.
+
+“The wife was paralyzed, and sat stupefied, and the people about feared
+for her reason.
+
+“After a time they begged me to come down and talk to her. Of course I
+went. I found her with her head upon his knees. I sat down quietly, and
+looked at him. He was young and beautiful, but with a feminine beauty;
+his head finely shaped, with curly locks that glittered in the sun, and
+one golden lock lighter than the rest; his eyes and eyelashes, his oval
+face, his white neck, and his white hand, all beautiful. His left hand
+rested on the counterpane. There was an emerald ring on one finger. He
+was like some beautiful flower cut down. I can see him now.
+
+“The woman lifted her head and saw me. She had a noble face, though now
+distorted and wild.
+
+“She cried, 'Tell me he is not dead! tell me he is not dead!' and when I
+did not reply, the poor creature gave a wild cry, and her senses left
+her. We carried her into another room.
+
+“While the women were bringing her to, an official came to insist on the
+interment taking place. They are terribly expeditious in the South of
+France.
+
+“This caused an altercation, and the poor lady rushed out; and finding
+the officer peremptory, flung her arms round the body, and said they
+should not be parted--she would be buried with him.
+
+“The official was moved, but said the law was strict, and the town must
+conduct the funeral unless she could find the sad courage to give the
+necessary instructions. With this he was going out, inexorable, when all
+of a sudden I observed something that sent my heart into my mouth, and I
+cried 'Arretez!' so loud that everybody stared.
+
+“I said, 'You must wait till a physician has seen him; he has moved a
+finger.'
+
+“I stared at the body, and they all stared at me.
+
+“He _had_ moved a finger. When I first saw him, his fingers were all
+close together; but now the little finger was quite away from the third
+finger--the one with the ring on.
+
+“I felt his heart, and found a little warmth about it, but no perceptible
+pulse. I ordered them to take off his sheet and put on blankets, but not
+to touch him till I came back with a learned physician. The wife embraced
+me, all trembling, and promised obedience. I got a _fiacre_ and drove to
+Dr. Brasseur, who was my hostile professor, but very able. I burst on
+him, and told him I had a case of catalepsy for him--it wasn't catalepsy,
+you know, but physicians are fond of Greek; they prefer the wrong Greek
+word to the right English. So I called it 'catalepsy,' and said I
+believed they were going to bury a live man. He shrugged his shoulders,
+and said that was one of the customs of the country. He would come in an
+hour. I told him that would not do, the man would be in his coffin; he
+must come directly. He smiled at my impetuosity, and yielded.
+
+“I got him to the patient. He examined him, and said he might be alive,
+but feared the last spark was going out. He dared not venture on
+friction. We must be wary.
+
+“Well, we tried this stimulant and that, till at last we got a sigh out
+of the patient; and I shall not forget the scream of joy at that sigh,
+which made the room ring, and thrilled us all.
+
+“By-and-by I was so fortunate as to suggest letting a small stream of
+water fall from a height on his head and face. We managed that, and
+by-and-by were rewarded with a sneeze.
+
+“I think a sneeze must revivify the brain wonderfully, for he made rapid
+progress, and then we tried friction, and he got well very quick. Indeed,
+as he had nothing the matter with him, except being dead, he got
+ridiculously well, and began paying us fulsome compliments, the doctor
+and me.
+
+“So then we handed him to his joyful wife.
+
+“They talk of crying for joy, as if it was done every day. I never saw it
+but once, and she was the woman. She made a curious gurgle; but it was
+very pretty. I was glad to have seen it, and very proud to be the cause.”
+
+The next day that pair left. He was English and so many good-natured
+strangers called on him that he fled swiftly, and did not even bid me
+good-by. However, I was told they both inquired for me, and were sorry I
+was out when they went.
+
+“How good of them!” said Vizard, turning red.
+
+“Oh, never mind, sir; I made use of _him._ I scribbled an article that
+very day, entitled it, 'While there's life there's hope,' and rushed with
+it to the editor of a journal. He took it with delight. I wrote it _'a la
+Francaise:_ picture of the dead husband, mourning wife, the impending
+interment; effaced myself entirely, and said the wife had refused to bury
+him until Dr. Brasseur, whose fame had reached her ears, had seen the
+body. To humor her, the doctor was applied to, and, his benevolence being
+equal to his science, he came: when, lo! a sudden surprise; the swift,
+unerring eye of science detected some subtle sign that had escaped the
+lesser luminaries. He doubted the death. He applied remedies; he
+exhausted the means of his art, with little avail at first, but at last a
+sigh was elicited, then a sneeze; and, marvelous to relate, in one hour
+the dead man was sitting up, not convalescent, but well. I concluded with
+some reflections on this _most important case of suspended animation_
+very creditable to the profession of medicine, and Dr. Brasseur.”
+
+“There was a fox!”
+
+“Well, look at my hair. What else could you expect? I said that before,
+too.
+
+“My notice published, I sent it to the doctor, with my respects, but did
+not call on him. However, one day he met me, and greeted me with a low
+bow. 'Mademoiselle,' said he, 'you were always a good student; but now
+you show the spirit of a _confr'ere,_ and so gracefully, that we are all
+agreed we must have you for one as soon as possible.'
+
+“I courtesied, and felt my face red, and said I should be the proudest
+woman in France.
+
+“'Grand Dieu,' said he, 'I hope not; for your modesty is not the least of
+your charms.'
+
+“So, the way was made smooth, and I had to work hard, and in about
+fourteen months I was admitted to my final examination. It was a severe
+one, but I had some advantages. Each nation has its wisdom, and I had
+studied in various schools.
+
+“Being a linguist, with a trained memory, I occasionally backed my
+replies with a string of French, German, English, and Italian authorities
+that looked imposing.
+
+“In short, I did pass with public applause and cordial felicitation; they
+quite _fe'ted_ me. The old welcomed me; the young escorted me home and
+flung flowers over me at my door. I reappeared in the balcony, and said a
+few words of gratitude to them and their noble nation. They cheered, and
+dispersed.
+
+“My heart was in a glow. I turned my eyes toward New York: a fortnight
+more, and my parents should greet me as a European doctress, if not a
+British.
+
+“The excitement had been too great; I sunk, a little exhausted, on the
+sofa. They bought me a letter. It was black-edged. I tore it open with a
+scream. My father was dead.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+“I WAS prostrated, stupefied. I don't know what I did, or how long I sat
+there. But Cornelia came to congratulate me, and found me there like
+stone, with the letter in my hand. She packed up my clothes, and took me
+home with her. I made no resistance. I seemed all broken and limp, soul
+and body, and not a tear that day.
+
+“Oh, sir, how small everything seems beside bereavement! My troubles, my
+insults, were nothing now; my triumph nothing; for I had no father left
+to be proud of it with me.
+
+“I wept with anguish a hundred times a day. Why had I left New York? Why
+had I not foreseen this every-day calamity, and passed every precious
+hour by his side I was to lose?
+
+“Terror seized me. My mother would go next. No life of any value was safe
+a day. Death did not wait for disease. It killed because it chose, and to
+show its contempt of hearts.
+
+“But just as I was preparing to go to Havre, they brought me a telegram.
+I screamed at it, and put up my hands. I said 'No, no;' I would not read
+it, to be told my mother was dead. I would have her a few minutes longer.
+Cornelia read it, and said it was from her. I fell on it, and kissed it.
+The blessed telegram told she was coming home. I was to go to London and
+wait for her.
+
+“I started. Cornelia paid my fees, and put my diploma in my box. _I_
+cared for nothing now but my own flesh and blood--what was left of it--my
+mother.
+
+“I reached London, and telegraphed my address to my mother, and begged
+her to come at once and ease my fears. I told her my funds were
+exhausted; but, of course, that was not the thing I poured out my heart
+about; so I dare say she hardly realized my deplorable
+condition--listless and bereaved, alone in a great city, with no money.
+
+“In her next letter she begged me to be patient. She had trouble with her
+husband's executors; she would send me a draft as soon as she could; but
+she would not leave, and let her child be robbed.
+
+“By-and-by the landlady pressed me for money. I gave her my gowns and
+shawls to sell for me.”
+
+“Goose!”
+
+“And just now I was a fox.”
+
+“You are both. But so is every woman.”
+
+“She handed me a few shillings, by way of balance. I lived on them till
+they went. Then I starved a little.”
+
+“With a ring on your finger you could have pawned for ten guineas!”
+
+“Pawn my ring! My father gave it me.” She kissed it tenderly, yet, to
+Vizard, half defiantly.
+
+“Pawning is not selling, goose!” said he, getting angry.
+
+“But I must have parted with it.”
+
+“And you preferred to _starve?”_
+
+“I preferred to starve,” said she, steadily.
+
+He looked at her. Her eyes faced his. He muttered something, and walked
+away, three steps to hide unreasonable sympathy. He came back with a
+grand display of cheerfulness. “Your mother will be here next month,”
+ said he, “with money in both pockets. Meantime I wish you would let me
+have a finger in the pie--or, rather my sister. She is warm-hearted and
+enthusiastic; she shall call on you, if you will permit it.”
+
+“Is she like you?”
+
+“Not a bit. We are by different mothers. Hers was a Greek, and she is a
+beautiful, dark girl.”
+
+“I admire beauty; but is she like you--in--in--disposition?”
+
+“Lord! no; very superior. Not abominably clever like you, but absurdly
+good. You shall judge for yourself. Oblige me with your address.”
+
+The doctress wrote her address with a resigned air, as one who had found
+somebody she had to obey; and, as soon as he had got it, Vizard gave her
+a sort of nervous shake of the hand, and seemed almost in a hurry to get
+away from her. But this was his way.
+
+She would have been amazed if she had seen his change of manner the
+moment he got among his own people.
+
+He burst in on them, crying, “There--the prayers of this congregation are
+requested for Harrington Vizard, saddled with a virago.”
+
+“Saddled with a virago!” screamed Fanny.
+
+“Saddled with a--!” sighed Zoe, faintly.
+
+“Saddled with a virago FOR LIFE!” shouted Vizard, with a loud defiance
+that seemed needless, since nobody was objecting violently to his being
+saddled.
+
+“Look here!” said he, descending all of a sudden to a meek, injured air,
+which, however, did not last very long, “I was in the garden of Leicester
+Square, and a young lady turned faint. I observed it, and, instead of
+taking the hint and cutting, I offered assistance--off my guard, as
+usual. She declined. I persisted; proposed a glass of wine, or spirit.
+She declined, but at last let out she was starving.”
+
+“Oh!” cried Zoe.
+
+“Yes, Zoe--starving. A woman more learned, more scientific, more
+eloquent, more offensive to a fellow's vanity, than I ever saw, or even
+read of--a woman of _genius,_ starving, like a genius and a ninny, with a
+ring on her finger worth thirty guineas. But my learned goose would not
+raise money on that, because it was her father's, and he is dead.”
+
+“Poor thing!” said Zoe, and her eyes glistened directly.
+
+“It _is_ hard, Zoe, isn't it? She is a physician--an able physician; has
+studied at Zurich and at Edinburgh, and in France, and has a French
+diploma; but must not practice in England, because we are behind the
+Continent in laws and civilization--so _she_ says, confound her
+impudence, and my folly for becoming a woman's echo! But if I were to
+tell you her whole story, your blood would boil at the trickery, and
+dishonesty, and oppression of the trades-union which has driven this
+gifted creature to a foreign school for education; and, now that a
+foreign nation admits her ability and crowns her with honor, still she
+must not practice in this country, because she is a woman, and we are a
+nation of half-civilized men. That is _her_ chat, you understand, not
+mine. We are not obliged to swallow all that; but, turn it how you will,
+here are learning, genius, and virtue starving. We must get her to accept
+a little money; that means, in her case, a little fire and food. Zoe,
+shall that woman go to bed hungry to-night?”
+
+“No, never!” said Zoe, warmly. “'Let me think. Offer her a _loan.”_
+
+“Well done; that is a good idea. Will _you_ undertake it? She will be far
+more likely to accept. She is a bit of a prude and all, is my virago.”
+
+“Yes, dear, she will. Order the carriage. She shall not go to bed
+hungry--nobody shall that you are interested in.”
+
+“Oh, after dinner will do.”
+
+Dinner was ordered immediately, and the brougham an hour after.
+
+At dinner, Vizard gave them all the outline of the Edinburgh struggle,
+and the pros and cons; during which narrative his female hearers might
+have been observed to get cooler and cooler, till they reached the zero
+of perfect apathy. They listened in dead silence; but when Harrington had
+done, Fanny said aside to Zoe, “It is all her own fault. What business
+have women to set up for doctors?”
+
+“Of course not,” said Zoe; “only we must not say so. He indulges _us_ in
+our whims.”
+
+Warm partisan of immortal justice, when it was lucky enough to be backed
+by her affections, Miss Vizard rose directly after dinner, and, with a
+fine imitation of ardor, said she could lose no more time--she must go
+and put on her bonnet. “You will come with me, Fanny?”
+
+When I was a girl, or a boy--I forget which, it is so long ago--a young
+lady thus invited by an affectionate friend used to do one of two things;
+nine times out of ten she sacrificed her inclination, and went; the
+tenth, she would make sweet, engaging excuses, and beg off. But the girls
+of this day have invented “silent volition.” When you ask them to do
+anything they don't quite like, they look you in the face, bland but
+full, and neither speak nor move. Miss Dover was a proficient in this
+graceful form of refusal by dead silence, and resistance by placid
+inertia. She just looked like the full moon in Zoe's face, and never
+budged. Zoe, being also a girl of the day, needed no interpretation. “Oh,
+very well,” said she, “disobliging thing!”--with perfect good humor, mind
+you.
+
+Vizard, however, was not pleased.
+
+“You go with her, Ned,” said he. “Miss Dover prefers to stay and smoke a
+cigar with me.”
+
+Miss Dover's face reddened, but she never budged. And it ended in Zoe
+taking Severne with her to call on Rhoda Gale.
+
+Rhoda Gale stayed in the garden till sunset, and then went to her
+lodgings slowly, for they had no attraction--a dark room; no supper; a
+hard landlady, half disposed to turn her out.
+
+Dr. Rhoda Gale never reflected much in the streets; they were to her a
+field of minute observation; but, when she got home she sat down and
+thought over what she had been saying and doing, and puzzled over the
+character of the man who had relieved her hunger and elicited her
+autobiography. She passed him in review; settled in her mind that he was
+a strong character; a manly man, who did not waste words; wondered a
+little at the way he had made her do whatever he pleased; blushed a
+little at the thought of having been so communicative; yet admired the
+man for having drawn her out so; and wondered whether she should see him
+again. She hoped she should. But she did not feel sure.
+
+She sat half an hour thus--with one knee raised a little, and her hands
+interlaced--by a fire-place with a burned-out coal in it; and by-and-by
+she felt hungry again. But she had no food, and no money.
+
+She looked hard at her ring, and profited a little by contact with the
+sturdy good sense of Vizard.
+
+She said to herself, “Men understand one another. I believe father would
+be angry with me for not.”
+
+Then she looked tenderly and wistfully at the ring, and kissed it, and
+murmured, “Not to-night.” You see she hoped she might have a letter in
+the morning, and so respite her ring.
+
+Then she made light of it, and said to herself, “No matter; 'qui dort,
+dine.'”
+
+But as it was early for bed, and she could not be long idle, sipping no
+knowledge, she took up the last good German work that she had bought when
+she had money, and proceeded to read. She had no candle, but she had a
+lucifer-match or two, and an old newspaper. With this she made long
+spills, and lighted one, and read two pages by that paper torch, and
+lighted another before it was out, and then another, and so on in
+succession, fighting for knowledge against poverty, as she had fought for
+it against perfidy.
+
+While she was thus absorbed, a carriage drew up at the door. She took no
+notice of that; but presently there was a rustling of silk on the stairs,
+and two voices, and then a tap at the door. “Come in,” said she; and Zoe
+entered just as the last spill burned out.
+
+Rhoda Gale rose in a dark room; but a gas-light over the way just showed
+her figure. “Miss Gale?” said Zoe, timidly.
+
+“I am Miss Gale,” said Rhoda, quietly, but firmly.
+
+“I am Miss Vizard--the gentleman's sister that you met in Leicester
+Square to-day;” and she took a cautious step toward her.
+
+Rhoda's cheeks burned.
+
+“Miss Vizard,” she said, “excuse my receiving you so; but you may have
+heard I am very poor. My last candle is gone. But perhaps the landlady
+would lend me one. I don't know. She is very disobliging, and very
+cruel.”
+
+“Then she shall not have the honor of lending you a candle,” said Zoe,
+with one of her gushes. “Now, to tell the truth,” said she, altering to
+the cheerful, “I'm rather glad. I would rather talk to you in the dark
+for a little, just at first. May I?” By this time she had gradually crept
+up to Rhoda.
+
+“I am afraid you _must,”_ said Rhoda. “But at least I can offer you a
+seat.”
+
+Zoe sat down, and there was an awkward silence.
+
+“Oh, dear,” said Zoe; “I don't know how to begin. I wish you would give
+me your hand, as I can't see your face.”
+
+“With all my heart: there.”
+
+(Almost in a whisper) “He has told me.”
+
+Rhoda put the other hand to her face, though it was so dark.
+
+“Oh, Miss Gale, how _could_ you? Only think! Suppose you had killed
+yourself, or made yourself very ill. Your mother would have come directly
+and found you so; and only think how unhappy you would have made her.”
+
+“Can I have forgotten my mother?” asked Rhoda of herself, but aloud.
+
+“Not willfully, I am sure. But you know geniuses are not always wise in
+these little things. They want some good humdrum soul to advise them in
+the common affairs of life. That want is supplied you now; for _I_ am
+here--ha-ha!”
+
+“You are no more commonplace than I am; much less now, I'll be bound.”
+
+“We will put that to the test,” said Zoe, adroitly enough. _“My_ view of
+all this is--that here is a young lady in want of money _for a time,_ as
+everybody is now and then, and that the sensible course is to borrow some
+till your mother comes over with her apronful of dollars. Now, I have
+twenty pounds to lend, and, if you are so mighty sensible as you say, you
+won't refuse to borrow it.”
+
+“Oh, Miss Vizard, you are very good; but I am afraid and ashamed to
+borrow. I never did such a thing.”
+
+“Time you began, then. _I_ have--often. But it is no use arguing. You
+_must--_or you will get poor me finely scolded. Perhaps he was on his
+good behavior with you, being a stranger; but at home they expect to be
+obeyed. He will be sure to say it was my stupidity, and that _he_ would
+have made you directly.”
+
+“Do tell!” cried Rhoda, surprised into an idiom; “as if I'd have taken
+money from _him!”_
+
+“Why, of course not; but between _us_ it is nothing at all. There:” and
+she put the money into Rhoda's hand, and then held both hand and money
+rather tightly imprisoned in her larger palm, and began to chatter, so as
+to leave the other no opening. “Oh, blessed darkness! how easy it makes
+things! does it not? I am glad there was no candle; we should have been
+fencing and blushing ever so long, and made such a fuss about
+nothing--and--”
+
+This prattle was interrupted by Rhoda Gale putting her right wrist round
+Zoe's neck, and laying her forehead on her shoulder with a little sob. So
+then they both distilled the inevitable dew-drops.
+
+But as Rhoda was not much given that way, she started up, and said,
+“Darkness? No; I must see the face that has come here to help me, and not
+humiliate me. That is the first use I'll make of the money. I am afraid
+you are rather plain, or you couldn't be so good as all this.”
+
+“No,” said Zoe. “I'm not reckoned plain; only as black as a coal.”
+
+“All the more to my taste,” said Rhoda, and flew out of the room, and
+nearly stumbled over a figure seated on a step of the staircase. “Who are
+you?” said she, sharply.
+
+“My name is Severne.”
+
+“And what are you doing there?”
+
+“Waiting for Miss Vizard.”
+
+“Come in, then.”
+
+“She told me not.”
+
+“Then I tell you _to._ The idea! Miss Vizard!”
+
+“Yes!”
+
+“Please have Mr. Severne in. Here he is sitting--like Grief--on the
+steps. I will soon be back.”
+
+She flew to the landlady. “Mrs. Grip, I want a candle.”
+
+“Well, the shops are open,” said the woman, rudely.
+
+“Oh, I have no time. Here is a sovereign. Please give me two candles
+directly, candlesticks and all.”
+
+The woman's manner changed directly.
+
+“You shall have them this moment, miss, and my own candlesticks, which
+they are plated.”
+
+She brought them, and advised her only to light one. “They don't carry
+well, miss,” said she. “They are wax--or summat.”
+
+“Then they are summat,” said Miss Gale, after a single glance at their
+composition.
+
+“I'll make you a nice hot supper, miss, in half an hour,” said the woman,
+maternally, as if she were going to _give_ it her.
+
+“No, thank you. Bring me a two-penny loaf, and a scuttle of coals.”
+
+“La, miss, no more than that--out of a sov'?”
+
+“Yes--THE CHANGE.”
+
+Having shown Mrs. Grip her father was a Yankee, she darted upstairs, with
+her candles. Zoe came to meet her, and literally dazzled her.
+
+Rhoda stared at her with amazement and growing rapture. “Oh, you beauty!”
+ she cried, and drank her in from head to foot.
+
+“Well,” said she, drawing a long breath, “Nature, you have turned out a
+_com-_plete article this time, I reckon.” Then, as Severne laughed
+merrily at this, she turned her candle and her eyes full on him very
+briskly. She looked at him for a moment, with a gratified eye at his
+comeliness; then she started. “Oh!” she cried.
+
+He received the inspection merrily, till she uttered that ejaculation,
+then he started a little, and stared at her.
+
+“We have met before,” said she, almost tenderly.
+
+“Have we?” said he, putting on a mystified air.
+
+She fixed him, and looked him through and through.
+“You--don't--remember--me?” asked she. Then, after giving him plenty of
+time to answer, “Well, then, I must be mistaken;” and her words seemed to
+freeze themselves and her as they fell.
+
+She turned her back on him, and said to Zoe, with a good deal of
+sweetness and weight, “I have lived to see goodness and beauty united. I
+will never despair of human nature.”
+
+This was too pointblank for Zoe; she blushed crimson, and said archly, “I
+think it is time for me to run. Oh, but I forgot; here is my card. We are
+all at that hotel. If I am so very attractive, you will come and see
+me--we leave town very soon--will you?”
+
+“I will,” said Rhoda.
+
+“And since you took me for an old acquaintance, I hope you will treat me
+as one,” said Severne, with consummate grace and assurance.
+
+“I will, _sir,”_ said she, icily, and with a marvelous curl of the lip
+that did not escape him.
+
+She lighted them down the stairs, gazed after Zoe, and ignored Severne
+altogether.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+GOING home in the carriage, Zoe was silent, but Severne talked nineteen
+to the dozen. Had his object been to hinder his companion's mind from
+dwelling too long on one thing, he could not have rattled the dice of
+small talk more industriously. His words would fill pages; his topics
+were, that Miss Gale was an extraordinary woman, but too masculine for
+his taste, and had made her own troubles setting up doctress, when her
+true line was governess--for boys. He was also glib and satirical upon
+that favorite butt, a friend.
+
+“Who but a _soi-disant_ woman-hater would pick up a strange virago and
+send his sister to her with twenty pounds? I'll tell you what it is, Miss
+Vizard--”
+
+Here Miss Vizard, who had sat dead silent under a flow of words, which is
+merely indicated above, laid her hand on his arm to stop the flux for a
+moment, and said, quietly, _“Do_ you know her? tell me.”
+
+“Know her! How should I?”
+
+“I thought you might have met her--abroad.”
+
+“Well, it is possible, of course, but very unlikely. If I did, I never
+spoke to her, or I should have remembered her. _Don't you think so?”_
+
+“She seemed very positive; and I think she is an accurate person. She
+seemed quite surprised and mortified when you said 'No.'”
+
+“Well, you know, of course it is a mortifying thing when a lady claims a
+gentleman's acquaintance, and the gentleman doesn't admit it. But what
+could I do? I couldn't tell a lie about it--could I?”
+
+“Of course not.”
+
+“I was off my guard, and rudish; but you were not. What tact! what
+delicacy! what high breeding and angelic benevolence! And so clever,
+too!”
+
+“Oh, fie! you listened!”
+
+“You left the door ajar, and I could not bear to lose a word that dropped
+from those lips so near me. Yes, I listened, and got such a lesson as
+only a noble, gentle lady could give. I shall never forget your womanly
+art, and the way you contrived to make the benefaction sound nothing. 'We
+are all of us at low water in turns, and for a time, especially me, Zoe
+Vizard; so here's a trifling loan.' A loan! you'll never see a shilling
+of it again! No matter. What do angels want of money?”
+
+“Oh, pray,” said Zoe, “you make me blush!”
+
+“Then I wish there was more light to see it--yes, an angel. Do you think
+I can't see you have done all this for a lady you do not really approve?
+Fancy--a she doctor!”
+
+“My dear friend,” said Zoe, with a little juvenile pomposity, “one ought
+not to judge one's intellectual superiors hastily, and this lady is
+ours”--then, gliding back to herself, “and it is my nature to approve
+what those I love approve--when it is not downright wrong, you know.”
+
+“Oh, of course it is not wrong; but is it wise?”
+
+Zoe did not answer: the question puzzled her.
+
+“Come,” said he, “I'll be frank, and speak out in time. I don't think you
+know your brother Harrington. He is very inflammable.”
+
+“Inflammable! What! Harrington? Well, yes; for I've seen smoke issue from
+his mouth--ha! ha!”
+
+“Ha! ha! I'll pass that off for mine, some day when you are not by. But,
+seriously, your brother is the very man to make a fool of himself with a
+certain kind of woman. He despises the whole sex--in theory, and he is
+very hard upon ordinary women, and does not appreciate their good
+qualities. But, when he meets a remarkable woman, he catches fire like
+tow. He fell in love with Mademoiselle Klosking.”
+
+“Oh, not in love!”
+
+“I beg your pardon. Now, this is between you and me--he was in love with
+her, madly in love. He was only saved by our coming away. If those two
+had met and made acquaintance, he would have been at her mercy. I don't
+say any harm would have come of it; but I do say that would have depended
+on the woman, and not on the man.”
+
+Zoe looked very serious, and said nothing. But her long silence showed
+him his words had told.
+
+“And now,” said he, after a judicious pause, “here is another remarkable
+woman; the last in the world I should fancy, or Vizard either, perhaps,
+if he met her in society. But the whole thing occurs in the way to catch
+him. He finds a lady fainting with hunger; he feeds her; and that softens
+his heart to her. Then she tells him the old story--victim of the world's
+injustice--and he is deeply interested in her. She can see that; she is
+as keen as a razor. If those two meet a few more times, he will be at her
+mercy; and then won't she throw physic to the dogs, and jump at a husband
+six feet high, and twelve thousand acres! I don't study women with a
+microscope, as our woman-hater does, but I notice a few things about
+them; and one is, that their eccentricities all give way at the first
+offer of marriage. I believe they are only adopted in desperation, to get
+married. What beautiful woman is ever eccentric? catch her! she can get a
+husband without. That doctress will prescribe Harrington a wedding-ring;
+and, if he swallows it, it will be her last prescription. She will send
+out for the family doctor after that, like other wives.”
+
+“You alarm me,” said Zoe. “Pray do not make me unjust. This is a lady
+with a fine mind, and, not a designing woman.”
+
+“Oh, I don't say she has laid any plans; but these things are always
+extemporized the moment the chance comes. You can count beforehand on the
+instinct of every woman who is clever and needy, and on Vizard's peculiar
+weakness for women out of the common. He is hard upon the whole sex; but
+he is no match for individuals. He owned as much himself to me one day.
+You are not angry with me!”
+
+“No, no. Angry with _you?”_
+
+“It is you I think of in all this. He is a fine fellow, and you are proud
+of him. I wouldn't have him marry to mortify you. For myself, while the
+sister honors me with her regard, I really don't much care who has the
+brother and the acres. I have the best of the bargain.”
+
+Zoe disputed this--in order to make him say it several times.
+
+He did, and proved it in terms that made her cheeks red with modesty and
+gratified pride; and by the time they had got home, he had flattered
+everything but pride, love, and happiness out of her heart, poor girl.
+
+The world is like the Law, full of implied contracts: we give and take,
+without openly agreeing to. Subtle Severne counted on this, and was not
+disappointed. Zoe rewarded him for his praises, and her happiness, by
+falling into his views about Rhoda Gale. Only she did it in her own
+lady-like way, and not plump.
+
+She came up to Harrington and kissed him, and said, “Thank you, dear, for
+sending me on a good errand. I found her in a very mean apartment,
+without fire or candle.”
+
+“I thought as much,” said Vizard.
+
+“Did she take the money?”
+
+“Yes--as a loan.”
+
+“Make any difficulties?”
+
+“A little, dear.”
+
+Severne put in his word. “Now, if you want to know all the tact and
+delicacy with which it was done, you must come to me; for Miss Vizard is
+not going to give you any idea of it.”
+
+“Be quiet, sir, or I shall be very angry. I lent her the money, dear, and
+her troubles are at an end; for her mother will certainly join her before
+she has spent your twenty pounds. Oh! and she had not parted with her
+ring; that is a comfort, is it not?”
+
+“You are a good-hearted girl, Zoe,” said Vizard, approvingly; then,
+recovering himself, “But don't you be blinded by sentiment. She deserves
+a good hiding for not parting with her ring. Where is the sense of
+starving, with thirty pounds on your finger?”
+
+Zoe smiled, and said his words were harder than his deeds.
+
+“Because he doesn't mean a word he says,” put in Fanny Dover, uneasy at
+the long cessation of her tongue, for all conversation with Don Cigar had
+proved impracticable.
+
+“Are you there still, my Lady Disdain?” said Vizard. “I thought you were
+gone to bed.”
+
+“You might well think that. I had nothing to keep me up.”
+
+Said Zoe, rather smartly, “Oh, yes, you had--Curiosity;” then, turning to
+her brother, “In short, you make your mind quite easy. You have lent your
+money, or given it, to a worthy person, but a little wrong-headed.
+However”--with a telegraphic glance at Severne--“she is very
+accomplished; a linguist: she need never be in want; and she will soon
+have her mother to help her and advise her. Perhaps Mrs. Gale has an
+income; if not, Miss Gale, with her abilities, will easily find a place
+in some house of business, or else take to teaching. If I was them, I
+would set up a school.”
+
+Unanimity is rare in this world; but Zoe's good sense carried every vote.
+Her prompter, Severne, nodded approval. Fanny said, “Why, of course;” and
+Vizard, who it was feared might prove refractory, assented even more
+warmly than the others. “Yes,” said he, “that will be the end of it. You
+relieve me of a weight. Really, when she told me that fable of learning
+maltreated, honorable ambition punished, justice baffled by trickery, and
+virtue vilified, and did not cry like the rest of you, except at her
+father dying in New York the day she won her diploma at Montpelier, I
+forgave the poor girl her petticoats; indeed, I lost sight of them. She
+seemed to me a very brave little fellow, damnably ill used, and I said,
+'This is not to be borne. Here is a fight, and justice down under dirty
+feet.' What, ho!” (roaring at the top of his voice).
+
+_Zoe and Fanny_ (screaming, and pinching Ned Severne right and left).
+“Ah! ah!”
+
+“Vizard to the rescue!”
+
+“But, with the evening, cool reflection came. A sister, youthful, but
+suddenly sagacious (with a gleam of suspicion), very suddenly has stilled
+the waves of romance, and the lips of beauty have uttered common sense.
+Shall they utter it in vain? Never! It may be years before they do it
+again. We must not slight rare phenomena. Zoe _locuta est--_Eccentricity
+must be suppressed. Doctresses, warned by a little starvation, must take
+the world as it is, and teach little girls and boys languages, and physic
+them with arithmetic and the globes: these be drugs that do not kill;
+they only make life a burden. I don't think we have laid out our twenty
+pounds badly, Zoe, and there is an end of it. The incident is emptied, as
+the French say, and (lighting bed-candles) the ladies retire with the
+honors of war. Zoe has uttered good sense, and Miss Dover has done the
+next best thing; she has said very little--”
+
+Miss Dover shot in contemptuously, “I had no companion--”
+
+--“For want of a fool to speak her mind to.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+INGENIOUS Mr. Severne having done his best to detach the poor doctress
+from Vizard and his family, in which the reader probably discerns his
+true motive, now bent his mind on slipping back to Homburg and looking
+after his money. Not that he liked the job. To get hold of it, he knew he
+must condense rascality; he must play the penitent, the lover, and the
+scoundrel over again, all in three days.
+
+Now, though his egotism was brutal, he was human in this, that he had
+plenty of good nature skin-deep, and superficial sensibilities, which
+made him shrink a little from this hot-pressed rascality and barbarity.
+On the other hand, he was urged by poverty, and, laughable as it may
+appear, by jealousy. He had observed that the best of women, if they are
+not only abandoned by him they love, but also flattered and adored by
+scores, will some times yield to the joint attacks of desolation, pique,
+vanity, etc.
+
+In this state of fluctuation he made up his mind so far as this: he would
+manage so as to be able to go.
+
+Even this demanded caution. So he began by throwing out, in a seeming
+careless way, that he ought to go down into Huntingdonshire.
+
+“Of course you ought,” said Vizard.
+
+No objection was taken, and they rather thought he would go next day. But
+that was not his game. It would never do to go while they were in London.
+So he kept postponing, and saying he would not tear himself away; and at
+last, the day before they were to go down to Barfordshire, he affected to
+yield to a remonstrance of Vizard, and said he would see them off, and
+then run down to Huntingdonshire, look into his affairs, and cross the
+country to Barfordshire.
+
+“You might take Homburg on the way,” said Fanny, out of fun--_her_
+fun--not really meaning it.
+
+Severne cast a piteous look at Zoe. “For shame, Fanny!” said she. “And
+why put Homburg into his head?”
+
+“When I had forgotten there was such a place,” said Mr. Severne, taking
+his cue dexterously from Zoe, and feigning innocent amazement. Zoe
+colored with pleasure. This was at breakfast. At afternoon tea something
+happened. The ladies were upstairs packing, an operation on which they
+can bestow as many hours as the thing needs minutes. One servant brought
+in the tea; another came in soon after with a card, and said it was for
+Miss Vizard; but he brought it to Harrington. He read it:
+
+“MISS RHODA GALE, M.D.”
+
+“Send it up to Miss Vizard,” said he. The man was going out: he stopped
+him, and said, “You can show the lady in here, all the same.”
+
+Rhoda Gale was ushered in. She had a new gown and bonnet, not showy, but
+very nice. She colored faintly at sight of the two gentlemen; but Vizard
+soon put her at her ease. He shook hands with her, and said, “Sit down,
+Miss Gale; my sister will soon be here. I have sent your card up to her.”
+
+“Shall I tell her?” said Severne, with the manner of one eager to be
+agreeable to the visitor.
+
+“If you please, sir,” said Miss Gale.
+
+Severne went out zealously, darted up to Zoe's room, knocked, and said,
+“Pray come down: here is that doctress.”
+
+Meantime, Jack was giving Gill the card, and Gill was giving it Mary to
+give to the lady. It got to Zoe's room in a quarter of an hour.
+
+
+“Any news from mamma?” asked Vizard, in his blunt way.
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Good news?”
+
+“No. My mother writes me that I must not expect her. She has to fight
+with a dishonest executor. Oh, money, money!”
+
+At that moment Zoe entered the room, but Severne paced the landing. He
+did not care to face Miss Gale; and even in that short interval of time
+he had persuaded Zoe to protect her brother against this formidable young
+lady, and shorten the interview if she could.
+
+So Zoe entered the room bristling with defense of her brother. At sight
+of her, Miss Gale rose, and her features literally shone with pleasure.
+This was rather disarming to one so amiable as Zoe, and she was surprised
+into smiling sweetly in return; but still her quick, defensive eye drank
+Miss Gale on the spot, and saw, with alarm, the improvement in her
+appearance. She was very healthy, as indeed she deserved to be; for she
+was singularly temperate, drank nothing but water and weak tea without
+sugar, and never eat nor drank except at honest meals. Her youth and pure
+constitution had shaken off all that pallor, and the pleasure of seeing
+Zoe lent her a lovely color. Zoe microscoped her in one moment: not one
+beautiful feature in her whole face; eyes full of intellect, but not in
+the least love-darting; nose, an aquiline steadily reversed; mouth,
+vastly expressive, but large; teeth, even and white, but ivory, not
+pearl; chin, ordinary; head symmetrical, and set on with grace. I may
+add, to complete the picture, that she had a way of turning this head,
+clean, swift, and birdlike, without turning her body. That familiar
+action of hers was fine--so full of fire and intelligence.
+
+Zoe settled in one moment that she was downright plain, but might
+probably be that mysterious and incomprehensible and dangerous creature,
+“a gentleman's beauty,” which, to women, means no beauty at all, but a
+witch-like creature, that goes and hits foul, and eclipses real
+beauty--dolls, to wit--by some mysterious magic.
+
+“Pray sit down,” said Zoe, formally. Rhoda sat down, and hesitated a
+moment. She felt a frost.
+
+Vizard helped her, “Miss Gale has heard from her mother.”
+
+“Yes, Miss Vizard,” said Rhoda, timidly; “and very bad news. She cannot
+come at present; and I am so distressed at what I have done in borrowing
+that money of you; and see, I have spent nearly three pounds of it in
+dress; but I have brought the rest back.”
+
+Zoe looked at her brother, perplexed.
+
+“Stuff and nonsense!” said Vizard. “You will not take it, Zoe.”
+
+“Oh, yes; if you please, do,” said Rhoda still to Zoe. “When I borrowed
+it, I felt sure I could repay it; but it is not so now. My mother says it
+may be months before she can come, and she forbids me positively to go to
+her. Oh! but for that, I'd put on boy's clothes, and go as a common
+sailor to get to her.”
+
+Vizard fidgeted on his chair.
+
+“I suppose I mustn't go in a passion,” said he, dryly.
+
+“Who cares?” said Miss Gale, turning her head sharply on him in the way I
+have tried to describe.
+
+“I care,” said Vizard. “I find wrath interfere with my digestion. Please
+go on, and tell us what your mother says. She has more common sense than
+somebody else I won't name--politeness forbids.”
+
+“Well, who doubts that?” said the lady, with frank good humor. “Of course
+she has more sense than any of us. Well, my mother says--oh, Miss
+Vizard!”
+
+“No, she doesn't now. She never heard the name of Vizard.”
+
+Miss Gale was in no humor for feeble jokes. She turned half angrily away
+from him to Zoe. “She says I have been well educated, and know languages;
+and we are both under a cloud, and I had better give up all thought of
+medicine, and take to teaching.”
+
+“Well, Miss Gale,” said Zoe, “if you ask _me,_ I must say I think it is
+good advice. With all your gifts, how can you fight the world? We are all
+interested in you here; and it is a curious thing, but do you know we
+agreed the other day you would have to give up medicine, and fall into
+some occupation in which there are many ladies already to keep you in
+countenance. Teaching was mentioned, I think; was it not, Harrington?”
+
+Rhoda Gale sighed deeply.
+
+“I am not surprised,” said she. “Most women of the world think with you.
+But oh, Miss Vizard, please take into account all that I have done and
+suffered for medicine! Is all that to go for _nothing?_ Think what a
+bitter thing it must be to do, and then to undo; to labor and study, and
+then knock it all down--to cut a slice out of one's life, out of the very
+heart of it--and throw it clean away. I know it is hard for you to enter
+into the feelings of any one who loves science, and is told to desert it.
+But suppose you had loved a _man_ you were proud of--loved him for five
+years--and then they came to you and said, 'There are difficulties in the
+way; he is as worthy as ever, and he will never desert _you;_ but you
+must give _him_ up, and try and get a taste for human rubbish: it will
+only be five years of wasted life, wasted youth, wasted seed-time, wasted
+affection, and then a long vegetable life of unavailing regrets.' I love
+science as other women love men. If I am to give up science, why not die?
+Then I shall not feel my loss; and I know how to die without pain. Oh,
+the world is cruel! Ah! I am too unfortunate! Everybody else is rewarded
+for patience, prudence, temperance, industry, and a life with high and
+almost holy aims; but I am punished, afflicted, crushed under the
+injustice of the day. Do not make me a nurse-maid. I _won't_ be a
+governess; and I must not die, because that would grieve my mother. Have
+pity on me! have pity!”
+
+She trembled all over, and stretched out her hands to Zoe with truly
+touching supplication.
+
+Zoe forgot her part, or lost the power to play it well. She turned her
+head away and would not assent; but two large tears rolled out of her
+beautiful eyes. Miss Gale, who had risen in the ardor of her appeal, saw
+that, and it set her off. She leaned her brow against the mantel-piece,
+not like a woman, but a brave boy, that does not want to be seen crying,
+and she faltered out, “In France I am a learned physician; and here to be
+a house-maid! For I won't live on borrowed money. I am very unfortunate.”
+
+Severne, who had lost patience, came swiftly in, and found them in this
+position, and Vizard walking impatiently about the room in a state of
+emotion which he was pleased to call anger.
+
+Zoe, in a tearful voice, said, “I am unable to advise you. It is very
+hard that any one so deserving should be degraded.”
+
+Vizard burst out, “It is harder the world should be so full of
+conventional sneaks; and that I was near making one of them. The last
+thing we ever think of, in this paltry world, is justice, and it ought to
+be the first. Well, for once I've got the power to be just, and just I'll
+be, by God! Come, leave off sniveling, you two, and take a lesson in
+justice--from a beginner: converts are always the hottest, you know. Miss
+Gale, you shall not be driven out of science, and your life and labor
+wasted. You shall doctor Barfordshire, and teach it English, too, if any
+woman can. This is the programme. I farm two hundred
+acres--_vicariously,_ of course. Nobody in England has brains to do
+anything _himself._ That weakness is confined to your late father's
+country, and they suffer for it by outfighting, outlying, outmaneuvering,
+outbullying, and outwitting us whenever we encounter them. Well, the
+farmhouse is large. The bailiff has no children. There is a wing
+furnished, and not occupied. You shall live there, with the right of
+cutting vegetables, roasting chickens, sucking eggs, and riding a couple
+of horses off their legs.”
+
+“But what am I to do for all that?”
+
+“Oh, only the work of two men. You must keep my house in perfect health.
+The servants have a trick of eating till they burst. You will have to sew
+them up again. There are only seven hundred people in the village. You
+must cure them all; and, if you do, I promise you their lasting
+ingratitude. Outside the village, you must make them pay--_if you can._
+We will find you patients of every degree. But whether you will ever get
+any fees out of them, this deponent sayeth not. However, I can answer for
+the _ladies_ of our county, that they will all cheat you--if they can.”
+
+Miss Gale's color came and went, and her eyes sparkled. “Oh, how good you
+are! Is there a hospital?”
+
+“County hospital, and infirmary, within three miles. Fine country for
+disease. Intoxication prevalent, leading to a bountiful return of
+accidents. I promise you wounds, bruises, and putrefying sores, and
+everything to make you comfortable.”
+
+“Oh, don't laugh at me. I am so afraid I shall--no, I hope I shall not
+disgrace you. And, then, it is against the law; but I don't mind that.”
+
+“Of course not. What is the law to ladies with elevated views? By-the-by,
+what is the penalty--six months?”
+
+“Oh, no. Twenty pounds. Oh, dear! another twenty pounds!”
+
+“Make your mind easy. Unjust laws are a dead letter on a soil so
+primitive as ours. I shall talk to Uxmoor and a few more, and no
+magistrate will ever summons you, nor jury convict you, in Barfordshire.
+You will be as safe there as in Upper Canada. Now then--attend. We leave
+for Barfordshire to-morrow. You will go down on the first of next month.
+By that time all will be ready: start for Taddington, eleven o'clock. You
+will be met at the Taddington Station, and taken to your farmhouse. You
+will find a fire ten days old, and, for once in your life, young lady,
+you will find an aired bed; because my man Harris will be house-maid, and
+not let one of your homicidal sex set foot in the crib.”
+
+Miss Gale looked from Vizard to his sister, like a person in a dream. She
+was glowing with happiness; but it did not spoil her. She said, humbly
+and timidly, “I hope I may prove worthy.”
+
+“That is _your_ business,” said Vizard, with supreme indifference; “mine
+is to be just. Have a cup of tea?”
+
+“Oh, no, thank you; and it will be a part of my duty to object to
+afternoon tea. But I am afraid none of you will mind me.”
+
+After a few more words, in which Severne, seeing Vizard was in one of his
+iron moods, and immovable as him of Rhodes, affected now to be a partisan
+of the new arrangement, Miss Gale rose to retire. Severne ran before her
+to the door, and opened it, as to a queen. She bowed formally to him as
+she went out. When she was on the other side the door, she turned her
+head in her sharp, fiery way, and pointed with her finger to the emerald
+ring on his little finger, a very fine one. “Changed hands,” said she:
+“it was on the third finger of your left hand when we met last;” and she
+passed down the stairs with a face half turned to him, and a cruel smile.
+
+Severne stood fixed, looking after her; cold crept among his bones: he
+was roused by a voice above him saying, very inquisitively, “What does
+she say?” He looked up, and it was Fanny Dover leaning over the balusters
+of the next landing. She had evidently seen all, and heard some. Severne
+had no means of knowing how much. His heart beat rapidly. Yet he told
+her, boldly, that the doctress had admired his emerald ring: as if to
+give greater force to this explanation, he took it off, and showed it
+her, very amicably. He calculated that she could hardly, at that
+distance, have heard every syllable, and, at the same time, he was sure
+she had seen Miss Gale point at the ring.
+
+“Hum!” said Fanny; and that was all she said.
+
+Severne went to his own room to think. He was almost dizzy. He dreaded
+this Rhoda Gale. She was incomprehensible, and held a sword over his
+head. Tongues go fast in the country. At the idea of this keen girl and
+Zoe Vizard sitting under a tree for two hours, with nothing to do but
+talk, his blood ran cold. Surely Miss Gale must hate him. She would not
+always spare him. For once he could not see his way clear. Should he tell
+her half the truth, and throw himself on her mercy? Should he make love
+to her? Or what should he do? One thing he saw clear enough: he must not
+quit the field. Sooner or later, all would depend on his presence, his
+tact, and his ready wit.
+
+He felt like a man who could not swim, and wades in deepening water. He
+must send somebody to Homburg, or abandon all thought of his money. Why
+abandon it? Why not return to Ina Klosking? His judgment, alarmed at the
+accumulating difficulties, began to intrude its voice. What was he
+turning his back on? A woman, lovely, loving, and celebrated, who was
+very likely pining for him, and would share, not only her winnings at
+play with him, but the large income she would make by her talent. What
+was he following? A woman divinely lovely and good, but whom he could not
+possess, or, if he did, could not hold her long, and whose love must end
+in horror.
+
+But nature is not so unfair to honest men as to give wisdom to the
+cunning. Rarely does reason prevail against passion in such a mind as
+Severne's. It ended, as might have been expected, in his going down to
+Vizard Court with Zoe.
+
+An express train soon whirled them down to Taddington, in Barfordshire.
+There was Harris, with three servants, waiting for them, one with a light
+cart for their luggage, and two with an open carriage and two spanking
+bays, whose coats shone like satin. The servants, liveried, and
+top-booted, and buckskin-gloved, and spruce as if just out of a bandbox,
+were all smartness and respectful zeal. They got the luggage out in a
+trice, with Harris's assistance. Mr. Harris then drove away like the wind
+in his dog-cart; the traveling party were soon in the barouche. It glided
+away, and they rolled on easy springs at the rate of twelve miles an hour
+till they came to the lodge-gate. It was opened at their approach, and
+they drove full half a mile over a broad gravel path, with rich grass on
+each side, and grand old patriarchs, oak and beech, standing here and
+there, and dappled deer, grazing or lying, in mottled groups, till they
+came to a noble avenue of lofty lime-trees, with stems of rare size and
+smoothness, and towering piles on piles of translucent leaves, that
+glowed in the sun like flakes of gold.
+
+At the end of this avenue was seen an old mansion, built of that
+beautiful clean red brick--which seems to have died out--and white-stone
+facings and mullions, with gables and oriel windows by the dozen; but
+between the avenue and the house was a large oval plot of turf, with a
+broad gravel road running round it; and attached to the house, but thrown
+a little back, were the stables, which formed three sides of a good-sized
+quadrangle, with an enormous clock in the center. The lawn,
+kitchen-garden, ice-houses, pineries, green houses, revealed themselves
+only in peeps as the carriage swept round the spacious plot and drew up
+at the hall door.
+
+No ringing of bells nor knocking. Even as the coachman tightened his
+reins, the great hall door was swung open, and two footmen appeared.
+Harris brought up a rear-guard, and received the party in due state.
+
+A double staircase, about ten feet broad, rose out of the hall, and up
+this Mr. Harris conducted Severne, the only stranger, into a bedroom with
+a great oriel window looking west.
+
+“This is your room, sir,” said he. “Shall I unpack your things when they
+come?”
+
+Severne assented, and that perfect major-domo informed him that luncheon
+was ready, and retired cat-like, and closed the door so softly no sound
+was heard.
+
+Mr. Severne looked about him, and admitted to himself that, with all his
+experiences of life, this was his first bedroom. It was of great size, to
+begin. The oriel window was twenty feet wide, and had half a dozen
+casements, each with rose-colored blinds, though some of them needed no
+blinds, for green creepers, with flowers like clusters of grapes, curled
+round the mullions, and the sun shone mellowed through their leaves.
+Enormous curtains of purple cloth, with cold borders, hung at each side
+in mighty folds, to be drawn at night-time when the eye should need
+repose from feasting upon color.
+
+There were three brass bedsteads in a row, only four feet broad, with
+spring-beds, hair mattresses a foot thick, and snowy sheets for
+coverlets, instead of counter-panes; so that, if you were hot, feverish,
+or sleepless in one bed, you might try another, or two.
+
+Thick carpets and rugs, satin-wood wardrobes, prodigious wash-hand
+stands, with china backs four feet high. Towel-horses, nearly as big as a
+donkey, with short towels, long towels, thick towels, thin towels,
+bathing sheets, etc.; baths of every shape; and cans of every size; a
+large knee-hole table; paper and envelopes of every size. In short, a
+room to sleep in, study in, live in, and stick fast in, night and day.
+
+But what is this? A Gothic arch, curtained with violet merino. He draws
+the curtain. It is an ante-room. One half of it is a bathroom, screened,
+and paved with encaustic tiles that run up the walls, so you may splash
+to your heart's content. The rest is a studio, and contains a choice
+little library of well-bound books in glass cases, a piano-forte, and a
+harmonium. Severne tried them; they were both in perfect tune. Two
+clocks, one in each room, were also in perfect time. Thereat he wondered.
+But the truth is, it was a house wherein precision reigned: a tuner and a
+clockmaker visited by contract every month.
+
+This, and two more guest-chambers, and the great dining-hall, were built
+under the Plantagenets, when all large landowners entertained kings and
+princes with their retinues. As to that part of the house which was built
+under the Tudors, there are hundreds of country houses as important, only
+Mr. Severne had not been inside them, and was hardly aware to what
+perfection rational luxury is brought in the houses of our large landed
+gentry. He sat down in an antique chair of enormous size; the back went
+higher than his head, the seat ran out as far as his ankle, when seated;
+there was room in it for two, and it was stuffed--ye gods, how it was
+stuffed! The sides, the back, and the seat were all hair mattresses, a
+foot thick at least. Here nestled our sybarite; with the sun shining
+through leaves, and splashing his beautiful head with golden tints and
+transparent shadows, and felt in the temple of comfort, and incapable of
+leaving it alive.
+
+He went down to luncheon. It was distinguishable from dinner in this,
+that they all got up after it, and Zoe said, “Come with me, children.”
+
+Fanny and Severne rose at the word. Vizard said he felt excluded from
+that invitation, having cut his wise-teeth; so he would light a cigar
+instead; and he did. Zoe took the other two into the kitchen garden--four
+acres, surrounded with a high wall, of orange-red brick, full of little
+holes where the nails had been. Zoe, being now at home, and queen, wore a
+new and pretty deportment. She was half maternal, and led her friend and
+lover about like two kids. She took them to this and that fruit tree, set
+them to eat, and looked on, superior. By way of climax, she led them to
+the south wall, crimson with ten thousand peaches and nectarines; she
+stepped over the border, took superb peaches and nectarines from the
+trees, and gave them with her own hand to Fanny and Severne. The head
+gardener glared in dismay at the fair spoliator. Zoe observed him, and
+laughed. “Poor Lucas,” said she; “he would like them all to hang on the
+tree till they fell off with a wasp inside. Eat as many as ever you can,
+young people; Lucas is amusing.”
+
+“I never had peaches enough off the tree before,” said Fanny.
+
+“No more have I,” said Severne. “This must be the Elysian fields, and I
+shall spoil my dinner.”
+
+“Who cares?” said Fanny, recklessly. “Dinner comes every day, and always
+at the only time when one has no appetite. But this eating of
+peaches--Oh, what a beauty!”
+
+“Children,” said Zoe, gravely, “I advise you not to eat above a dozen. Do
+not enter on a fatal course, which in one brief year will reduce you to a
+hapless condition. There--I was let loose among them at sixteen, and ever
+since they pall. But I do like to see you eat them, and your eyes
+sparkle.”
+
+“That is too bad of you,” said Fanny, driving her white teeth deep into a
+peach. “The idea! Now, Mr. Severne, do my eyes sparkle?”
+
+“Like diamonds. But that proves nothing: it is their normal condition.”
+
+“There, make him a courtesy,” said Zoe, “and come along.”
+
+She took them into the village. It was one of the old sort; little
+detached houses with little gardens in front, in all of which were a few
+humble flowers, and often a dark rose of surpassing beauty. Behind each
+cottage was a large garden, with various vegetables, and sometimes a few
+square yards of wheat. There was one little row of new brick houses
+standing together; their number five, their name Newtown. This town of
+five houses was tiled; the detached houses were thatched, and the walls
+plastered and whitewashed like snow. Such whitewash seems never to be
+made in towns, or to lose its whiteness in a day. This broad surface of
+vivid white was a background, against which the clinging roses, the
+clustering, creeping honeysuckles, and the deep young ivy with its tender
+green and polished leaves, shone lovely; wood smoke mounted, thin and
+silvery, from a cottage or two, that were cooking, and embroidered the
+air, not fouled it. The little windows had diamond panes, as in the
+Middle Ages, and every cottage door was open, suggesting hospitality and
+dearth of thieves. There was also that old essential, a village green--a
+broad strip of sacred turf, that was everybody's by custom, though in
+strict law Vizard's. Here a village cow and a donkey went about grazing
+the edges, for the turf in general was smooth as a lawn. By the side of
+the green was the village ale-house. After the green other cottages; two
+of them
+
+     “Quite overcanopied with lush woodbine,
+     With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.”
+
+One of these was called Marks's cottage, and the other Allen's. The
+rustic church stood in the middle of a hill nearly half a mile from the
+village. They strolled up to it. It had a tower built of flint, and clad
+on two sides with ivy three feet deep, and the body of the church was as
+snowy as the cottages, and on the south side a dozen swallows and martins
+had lodged their mortar nests under the eaves; they looked, against the
+white, like rugged gray stone bosses. Swallows and martins innumerable
+wheeled, swift as arrows, round the tower, chirping, and in and out of
+the church through an open window, and added their music and their motion
+to the beauty of the place.
+
+Returning from the church to the village, Miss Dover lagged behind, and
+then Severne infused into his voice those tender tones, which give
+amorous significance to the poorest prose.
+
+“What an Arcadia!” said he.
+
+“You would not like to be banished to it,” said Zoe, demurely.
+
+“That depends,” said he, significantly. Instead of meeting him half way
+and demanding an explanation, Zoe turned coy and fell to wondering what
+Fanny was about.
+
+“Oh, don't compel her to join us,” said Severne. “She is meditating.”
+
+“On what? She is not much given that way.”
+
+“On her past sins; and preparing new ones.”
+
+“For shame! She is no worse than we are. Do you really admire Islip?”
+
+“Indeed I do, if this is Islip?”
+
+“It is then; and this cottage with the cluster-rose tree all over the
+walls is Marks's cottage. We are rather proud of Marks's cottage,” said
+she, timidly.
+
+“It is a bower,” said he, warmly.
+
+This encouraged Zoe, and she said, “Is there not a wonderful charm in
+cottages? I often think I should like to live in Marks's. Have you ever
+had that feeling?”
+
+“Never. But I have it now. I should like to live in it--with you.”
+
+Zoe blushed like a rose, but turned it off. “You would soon wish yourself
+back again at Vizard Court,” said she. “Fanny--Fanny!” and she stood
+still.
+
+Fanny came up. “Well, what is the matter now?” said she, with pert, yet
+thoroughly apathetic, indifference.
+
+“The matter is--extravagances. Here is a man of the world pretending he
+would like to end his days in Marks's cottage.”
+
+“Stop a bit. It was to be with somebody I loved. And wouldn't you, Miss
+Dover?”
+
+“Oh dear, no. We should be sure to quarrel, cooped up in such a mite of a
+place. No; give me Vizard Court, and plenty of money, and the man of my
+heart.”
+
+“You have not got one, I'm afraid,” said Zoe, “or you would not put him
+last.”
+
+“Why not? when he is of the last importance,” said Fanny, flippantly, and
+turned the laugh her way.
+
+They strolled through the village together, but in the grounds of Vizard
+Court Fanny fairly gave them the slip. Severne saw his chance, and said,
+tenderly, “Did you hear what she said about a large house being best for
+lovers?”
+
+“Yes, I heard her,” said Zoe, defensively; “but very likely she did not
+mean it. That young lady's words are air. She will say one thing one day
+and another the next.”
+
+“I don't know. There is one thing every young lady's mind is made up
+about, and that is, whether it is to be love or money.”
+
+“She was for both, if I remember,” said Zoe, still coldly.
+
+“Because she is not in love.”
+
+“Well, I really believe she is not--for once.”
+
+“There, you see. She is in an unnatural condition.”
+
+“For her, very.”
+
+“So she is no judge. No; I should prefer Marks's cottage. The smaller the
+better; because then the woman I love could not ever be far from me.”
+
+He lowered his voice, and drove the insidious words into her tender
+bosom. She began to tremble and heave, and defend herself feebly.
+
+“What have I to do with that? You mustn't.”
+
+“How can I help it? You know the woman I love--I adore--and would not the
+smallest cottage in England be a palace if I was blessed with her sweet
+love and her divine company? Oh, Zoe, Zoe!”
+
+Then she did defend herself, after a fashion: “I won't listen to
+such--Edward!” Having uttered his name with divine tenderness, she put
+her hands to her blushing face, and fled from him. At the head of the
+stairs she encountered Fanny, looking satirical. She reprimanded her.
+
+“Fanny,” said she, “you really must not do _that”_--[pause]--“out of our
+own grounds. Kiss me, darling. I am a happy girl.” And she curled round
+Fanny, and panted on her shoulder.
+
+
+Miss Artful, known unto men as Fanny Dover, had already traced out in her
+own mind a line of conduct, which the above reprimand, minus the above
+kisses, taken at their joint algebraical value, did not disturb. The fact
+is, Fanny hated home; and liked Vizard Court above all places. But she
+was due at home, and hanging on to the palace of comfort by a thread. Any
+day her mother, out of natural affection and good-breeding, might write
+for her; and unless one of her hosts interfered, she should have to go.
+But Harrington went for nothing in this, unfortunately. His hospitality
+was unobtrusive, but infinite. It came to him from the Plantagenets
+through a long line of gentlemen who shone in vices; but inhospitality
+was unknown to the whole chain, and every human link in it. He might very
+likely forget to invite Fanny Dover unless reminded; but, when she was
+there, she was welcome to stay forever if she chose. It was all one to
+him. He never bothered himself to amuse his guests, and so they never
+bored him. He never let them. He made them at home; put his people and
+his horses at their service; and preserved his even tenor. So, then, the
+question of Fanny's stay lay with Zoe; and Zoe would do one of two
+things: she would either say, with well-bred hypocrisy, she ought not to
+keep Fanny any longer from her mother--and so get rid of her; or would
+interpose, and give some reason or other. What that reason would be,
+Fanny had no precise idea. She was sure it would not be the true one; but
+there her insight into futurity and females ceased. Now, Zoe was
+thoroughly fascinated by Severne, and Fanny saw it; and yet Zoe was too
+high-bred a girl to parade the village and the neighborhood with him
+alone--and so placard her attachment--before they were engaged, and the
+engagement sanctioned by the head of the house. This consideration
+enabled Miss Artful to make herself necessary to Zoe. Accordingly, she
+showed, on the very first afternoon, that she was prepared to play the
+convenient friend, and help Zoe to combine courtship with propriety.
+
+This plan once conceived, she adhered to it with pertinacity and skill.
+She rode and walked with them, and in public put herself rather forward,
+and asserted the leader; but sooner or later, at a proper time and place,
+she lagged behind, or cantered ahead, and manipulated the wooing with
+tact and dexterity.
+
+The consequence was that Zoe wrote of her own accord to Mrs. Dover,
+asking leave to detain Fanny, because her brother had invited a college
+friend, and it was rather awkward for her without Fanny, there being no
+other lady in the house at present.
+
+She showed this to Fanny, who said, earnestly,
+
+“As long as ever you like, dear. Mamma will not miss me a bit. Make your
+mind easy.”
+
+Vizard, knowing his sister, and entirely deceived in Severne, exercised
+no vigilance; for, to do Zoe justice, none was necessary, if Severne had
+been the man he seemed.
+
+There was no mother in the house to tremble for her daughter, to be
+jealous, to watch, to question, to demand a clear explanation--in short,
+to guard her young as only the mothers of creation do.
+
+The Elysian days rolled on. Zoe was in heaven, and Severne in a fool's
+paradise, enjoying everything, hoping everything, forgetting everything,
+and fearing nothing. He had come to this, with all his cunning; he was
+intoxicated and blinded with passion.
+
+Now it was that the idea of marrying Zoe first entered his head. But he
+was not mad enough for that. He repelled it with terror, rage, and
+despair. He passed an hour or two of agony in his own room, and came
+down, looking pale and exhausted. But, indeed, the little Dumas, though
+he does not pass for a moralist, says truly and well, “Les amours
+ille'gitimes portent toujours des fruits amers;” and Ned Severne's turn
+was come to suffer a few of the pangs he had inflicted gayly on more than
+one woman and her lover.
+
+
+One morning at breakfast Vizard made two announcements. “Here's news,”
+ said he; “Dr. Gale writes to postpone her visit. She is ill, poor girl!”
+
+“Oh, dear! what is the matter?” inquired Zoe, always kind-hearted.
+
+“Gastritis--so she says.”
+
+“What is that?” inquired Fanny.
+
+Mr. Severne, who was much pleased at this opportune illness, could not
+restrain his humor, and said it was a disorder produced by the fumes of
+gas.
+
+Zoe, accustomed to believe this gentleman's lies, and not giving herself
+time to think, said there was a great escape in the passage the night she
+went there.
+
+Then there was a laugh at her simplicity. She joined in it, but shook her
+finger at Master Severne.
+
+Vizard then informed Zoe that Lord Uxmoor had been staying some time at
+Basildon Hall, about nine miles off; so he had asked him to come over for
+a week, and he had accepted. “He will be here to dinner,” said Vizard. He
+then rang the bell, and sent for Harris, and ordered him to prepare the
+blue chamber for Lord Uxmoor, and see the things aired himself. Harris
+having retired, cat-like, Vizard explained, “My womankind shall not kill
+Uxmoor. He is a good fellow, and his mania--we have all got a mania, my
+young friends--is a respectable one. He wants to improve the condition of
+the poor--against their will.”
+
+“His friend! that was so ill. I hope he has not lost him,” said Zoe.
+
+“He hasn't lost him in this letter, Miss Gush,” said Vizard. “But you can
+ask him when he comes.”
+
+“Of course I shall ask him,” said Zoe.
+
+Half an hour before dinner there was a grating of wheels on the gravel.
+Severne looked out of his bedroom window, and saw Uxmoor drive up. Dark
+blue coach; silver harness, glittering in the sun; four chestnuts, glossy
+as velvet; two neat grooms as quick as lightning. He was down in a
+moment, and his traps in the hall, and the grooms drove the trap round to
+the stables.
+
+They were all in the drawing-room when Lord Uxmoor appeared; greeted Zoe
+with respectful warmth, Vizard with easy friendship, Severne and Miss
+Dover with well-bred civility. He took Zoe out, and sat at her right hand
+at dinner.
+
+As the new guest, he had the first claim on her attention and they had a
+topic ready--his sick friend. He told her all about him, and his happy
+recovery, with simple warmth. Zoe was interested and sympathetic; Fanny
+listened, and gave Severne short answers. Severne felt dethroned.
+
+He was rather mortified, and a little uneasy, but too brave to show it.
+He bided his time. In the drawing-room Lord Uxmoor singled out Zoe, and
+courted her openly with respectful admiration. Severne drew Fanny apart,
+and exerted himself to amuse her. Zoe began to cast uneasy glances.
+Severne made common cause with Fanny. “We have no chance against a lord,
+or a lady, you and I, Miss Dover.”
+
+“I haven't,” said she; “but you need not complain. She wishes she were
+here.”
+
+“So do I. Will you help me?”
+
+“No, I shall not. You can make love to me. I am tired of never being made
+love to.”
+
+“Well,” said this ingenuous youth, “you certainly do not get your deserts
+in this house. Even I am so blinded by my passion for Zoe, that I forget
+she does not monopolize all the beauty and grace and wit in the house.”
+
+“Go on,” said Fanny. “I can bear a good deal of it--after such a fast.”
+
+“I have no doubt you can bear a good deal. You are one of those that
+inspire feelings, but don't share them. Give me a chance; let me sing you
+a song.”
+
+“A love song?”
+
+“Of course.”
+
+“Can you sing it as well as you can talk it?”
+
+“With a little encouragement. If you would kindly stand at the end of the
+piano, and let me see your beautiful eyes fixed on me.”
+
+“With disdain?”
+
+“No, no.”
+
+“With just suspicion?”
+
+“No; with unmerited pity.” And he began to open the piano.
+
+“What! do you accompany yourself?”
+
+“Yes, after a fashion; by that means I don't get run over.”
+
+Then this accomplished person fixed his eyes on Fanny Dover, and sung her
+an Italian love song in the artificial passionate style of that nation;
+and the English girl received it pointblank with complacent composure.
+But Zoe started and thrilled at the first note, and crept up to the piano
+as if drawn by an irresistible cord. She gazed on the singer with
+amazement and admiration. His voice was a low tenor, round, and sweet as
+honey. It was a real voice, a musical instrument.
+
+“More tunable than lark to shepherd's ear When wheat is green, when
+hawthorn buds appear.”
+
+And the Klosking had cured him of the fatal whine which stains the
+amateur, male or female, and had taught him climax, so that he
+articulated and sung with perfect purity, and rang out his final notes
+instead of slurring them. In short, in plain passages he was a
+reflection, on a small scale, of that great singer. He knew this himself,
+and had kept clear of song: it was so full of reminiscence and stings.
+But now jealousy drove him to it.
+
+It was Vizard's rule to leave the room whenever Zoe or Fanny opened the
+piano. So in the evening that instrument of torture was always mute.
+
+But hearing a male voice, the squire, who doted on good music, as he
+abhorred bad, strolled in upon the chance; and he stared at the singer.
+
+When the song ended, there was a little clamor of ladies' voices calling
+him to account for concealing his talent from them.
+
+“I was afraid of Vizard,” said he; “he hates bad music.”
+
+“None of your tricks,” said the squire; “yours is not bad music; you
+speak your words articulately, and even eloquently. Your accompaniment is
+a little queer, especially in the bass; but you find out your mistakes,
+and slip out of them Heaven knows how. Zoe, you are tame, but accurate.
+Correct his accompaniments some day--when I'm out of hearing. Practice
+drives me mad. Give us another.”
+
+Severne laughed good-humoredly. “Thus encouraged, who could resist?” said
+he. “It is so delightful to sing in a shower bath of criticism.”
+
+He sung a sprightly French song, with prodigious spirit and dash.
+
+They all applauded, and Vizard said, “I see how it is. We were not good
+enough. He would not come out for us. He wanted the public. Uxmoor, you
+are the public. It is to you we owe this pretty warbler. Have you any
+favorite song, Public? Say the word, and he shall sing it you.”
+
+Severne turned rather red at that, and was about to rise slowly, when
+Uxmoor, who was instinctively a gentleman, though not a courtier, said,
+“I don't presume to choose Mr. Severne' s songs; but if we are not tiring
+him, I own I should like to hear an English song; for I am no musician,
+and the words are everything with me.”
+
+Severne assented dryly, and made him a shrewd return for his courtesy.
+
+Zoe had a brave rose in her black hair. He gave her one rapid glance of
+significance, and sung a Scotch song, almost as finely as it could be
+sung in a room:
+
+“My love is like the red, red rose That's newly sprung in June; My love
+is like a melody That's sweetly played in tune.”
+
+The dog did not slur the short notes and howl upon the long ones, as did
+a little fat Jew from London, with a sweet voice and no brains, whom I
+last heard howl it in the Theater Royal, Edinburgh. No; he retained the
+pure rhythm of the composition, and, above all, sung it with the gentle
+earnestness and unquavering emotion of a Briton.
+
+It struck Zoe's heart pointblank. She drew back, blushing like the rose
+in her hair and in the song, and hiding her happiness from all but the
+keen Fanny. Everybody but Zoe applauded the song. She spoke only with her
+cheeks and eyes.
+
+Severne rose from the piano. He was asked to sing another, but declined
+laughingly. Indeed, soon afterward he glided out of the room and was seen
+no more that night.
+
+Consequently he became the topic of conversation; and the three, who
+thought they knew him, vied in his praises.
+
+In the morning an expedition was planned, and Uxmoor proffered his
+“four-in-hand.” It was accepted. All young ladies like to sit behind four
+spanking trotters; and few object to be driven by a viscount with a
+glorious beard and large estates.
+
+Zoe sat by Uxmoor. Severne sat behind them with Fanny, a spectator of his
+open admiration. He could not defend himself so well as last night, and
+he felt humiliated by the position.
+
+It was renewed day after day. Zoe often cast a glance back, and drew him
+into the conversation; yet, on the whole, Uxmoor thrust him aside by his
+advantages and his resolute wooing.
+
+The same thing at dinner. It was only at night he could be number one. He
+tuned Zoe's guitar; and one night when there was a party, he walked about
+the room with this, and, putting his left leg out, serenaded one lady
+after another. Barfordshire was amazed and delighted at him, but Uxmoor
+courted Zoe as if he did not exist. He began to feel that he was the man
+to amuse women in Barfordshire, but Uxmoor the man to marry them. He
+began to sulk. Zoe's quick eyes saw and pitied. She was puzzled what to
+do. Lord Uxmoor gave her no excuse for throwing cold water on him,
+because his adoration was implied, not expressed; and he followed her up
+so closely, she could hardly get a word with Severne. When she did, there
+was consolation in every tone; and she took care to let drop that Lord
+Uxmoor was going in a day or two. So he was, but he altered his mind, and
+asked leave to stay.
+
+Severne looked gloomy at this, and he became dejected. He was miserable,
+and showed it, to see what Zoe would do. What she did was to get rather
+bored by Uxmoor, and glance from Fanny to Severne. I believe Zoe only
+meant, “Do pray say things to comfort him;” but Fanny read these gentle
+glances _'a la_ Dover. She got hold of Severne one day, and said,
+
+“What is the matter with you?”
+
+“Of course you can't divine,” said he, sarcastically.
+
+“Oh yes, I can; and it is your own fault.”
+
+“My fault! That is a good joke. Did I invite this man with all his
+advantages? That was Vizard's doing, who calls himself my friend.”
+
+“If it was not this one, it would be some other. Can you hope to keep Zoe
+Vizard from being courted? Why, she is the beauty of the county! and her
+brother not married. It is no use your making love by halves to her. She
+will go to some man who is in earnest.”
+
+“And am I not in earnest?”
+
+“Not so much as he is. You have known her four months, and never once
+asked her to marry you.”
+
+“So I am to be punished for my self-denial.”
+
+“Self-denial! Nonsense. Men have no self-denial. It is your cowardice.”
+
+“Don't be cruel. You know it is my poverty.”
+
+“Your poverty of spirit. You gave up money for her, and that is as good
+as if you had it still, and better. If you love Zoe, scrape up an income
+somehow, and say the word. Why, Harrington is bewitched with you, and he
+is rolling in money. I wouldn't lose her by cowardice, if I were you.
+Uxmoor will offer marriage before he goes. He is staying on for that.
+Now, take my word for it, when one man offers marriage, and the other
+does not, there is always a good chance of the girl saying this one is in
+earnest, and the other is not. We don't expect self-denial in a man; we
+don't believe in it. We see you seizing upon everything else you care
+for; and, if you don't seize on us, it wounds our vanity, the strongest
+passion we have. Consider, Uxmoor has title, wealth, everything to bestow
+with the wedding-ring. If he offers all that, and you don't offer all you
+have, how much more generous he looks to her than you do!”
+
+“In short, you think she will doubt my affection, if I don't ask her to
+share my poverty.”
+
+“If you don't, and a rich man asks her to share his all, I'm sure she
+will. And so should I. Words are only words.”
+
+“You torture me. I'd rather die than lose her.”
+
+“Then live and win her. I've told you the way.”
+
+“I will scrape an income together, and ask her.”
+
+“Upon your honor?”
+
+“Upon my soul.”
+
+“Then, in my opinion, you will have her in spite of Lord Uxmoor.”
+
+Hot from this, Edward Severne sat down and wrote a moving letter to a
+certain cousin of his in Huntingdonshire.
+
+
+“MY DEAR COUSIN--I have often heard you say you were under obligations to
+my father, and had a regard for me. Indeed, you have shown the latter by
+letting the interest on my mortgage run out many years and not
+foreclosing. Having no other friend, I now write to you, and throw myself
+on your pity. I have formed a deep attachment to a young lady of infinite
+beauty and virtue. She is above me in everything, especially in fortune.
+Yet she deigns to love me. I can't ask her hand as a pauper; and by my
+own folly, now deeply repented, I am little more. Now, all depends on
+you--my happiness, my respectability. Sooner or later, I shall be able to
+repay you all. For God's sake come to the assistance of your affectionate
+cousin,
+
+“EDWARD SEVERNE.”
+
+
+“The brother, a man of immense estates, is an old friend, and warmly
+attached to me. If I could only, through your temporary assistance or
+connivance, present my estate as clear, all would be well, and I could
+repay you afterward.”
+
+
+To this letter he received an immediate reply:
+
+
+“DEAR EDWARD--I thought you had forgotten my very existence. Yes, I owe
+much to your father, and have always said so, and acted accordingly.
+While you have been wandering abroad, deserting us all, I have improved
+your estate. I have bought all the other mortgages, and of late the rent
+has paid the interest, within a few pounds. I now make you an offer. Give
+me a long lease of the two farms at three hundred pounds a year--they
+will soon be vacant--and two thousand pounds out of hand, and I will
+cancel all the mortgages, and give you a receipt for them, as paid in
+full. This will be like paying you several thousand pounds for a
+beneficial lease. The two thousand pounds I must insist on, in justice to
+my own family.
+
+“Your affectionate cousin,
+
+“GEORGE SEVERNE.”
+
+
+This munificent offer surprised and delighted Severne, and, indeed, no
+other man but Cousin George, who had a heart of gold, and was grateful to
+Ned's father, and also loved the scamp himself, as everybody did, would
+have made such an offer.
+
+Our adventurer wrote, and closed with it, and gushed gratitude. Then he
+asked himself how to get the money. Had he been married to Zoe, or not
+thinking of her, he would have gone at once to Vizard, for the security
+was ample. But in his present delicate situation this would not do. No;
+he must be able to come and say, “My estate is small, but it is clear.
+Here is a receipt for six thousand pounds' worth of mortgages I have paid
+off. I am poor in land but rich in experience, regrets, and love. Be my
+friend, and trust me with Zoe.”
+
+He turned and twisted it in his mind, and resolved on a bold course. He
+would go to Homburg, and get that sum by hook or by crook out of Ina
+Klosking's winnings. He took Fanny into his confidence; only he
+substituted London for Homburg.
+
+“And oh, Miss Dover,” said he, “do not let me suffer by going away and
+leaving a rival behind.”
+
+“Suffer by it!” said she. “No, I mean to reward you for taking my advice.
+Don't you say a word to _her._ It will come better from me. I'll let her
+know what you are gone for; and she is just the girl to be upon honor,
+and ever so much cooler to Lord Uxmoor because you are unhappy, but have
+gone away trusting her.”
+
+And his artful ally kept her word. She went into Zoe's room before dinner
+to have it out with her.
+
+In the evening Severne told Vizard he must go up to London for a day or
+two.
+
+“All right,” said Vizard. “Tell some of them to order the dog-cart for
+your train.”
+
+But Zoe took occasion to ask him for how long, and murmured, “Remember
+how we shall miss you,” with such a look that he was in Elysium that
+evening.
+
+But at night he packed his bag for Homburg, and that chilled him. He lay
+slumbering all night, but not sleeping, and waking with starts and a
+sense of horror.
+
+At breakfast, after reading his letters, Vizard asked him what train he
+would go by.
+
+He said, the one o'clock.
+
+“All right,” said Vizard. Then he rang the bell, countermanded the
+dog-cart, and ordered the barouche.
+
+“A barouche for me!” said Severne. “Why, I am not going to take the
+ladies to the station.”
+
+“No; it is to bring one here. She comes down from London five minutes
+before you take the up train.”
+
+There was a general exclamation: Who was it? Aunt Maitland?
+
+“No,” said Vizard, tossing a note to Zoe--“it is Doctress Gale.”
+
+
+Severne's countenance fell.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+EDWARD SEVERNE, master of arts, dreaded Rhoda Gale, M.D. He had deluded,
+in various degrees, several ladies that were no fools; but here was one
+who staggered and puzzled him. Bright and keen as steel, quick and
+spirited, yet controlled by judgment and always mistress of herself, she
+seemed to him a new species. The worst of it was, he felt himself in the
+power of this new woman, and, indeed, he saw no limit to the mischief she
+might possibly do him if she and Zoe compared notes. He had thought the
+matter over, and realized this more than he did when in London. Hence the
+good youth's delight at her illness, noticed in a former chapter.
+
+He was very thoughtful all breakfast time, and as soon as it was over
+drew Vizard apart, and said he would postpone his visit to London until
+he had communicated with his man of business. He would go to the station
+and telegraph him, and by that means would do the civil and meet Miss
+Gale. Vizard stared at him.
+
+“You meet my virago? Why, I thought you disapproved her entirely.”
+
+“No, no; only the idea of a female doctor, not the lady herself. Besides,
+it is a rule with me, my dear fellow, never to let myself disapprove my
+friends' friends.”
+
+“That is a bright idea, and you are a good fellow,” said Vizard. “Go and
+meet the pest, by all means, and bring her here to luncheon. After
+luncheon we will drive her up to the farm and ensconce her.”
+
+Edward Severne had this advantage over most impostors, that he was
+masculine or feminine as occasion required. For instance, he could be
+hysterical or bold to serve the turn. Another example--he watched faces
+like a woman, and yet he could look you in the face like a man,
+especially when he was lying. In the present conjuncture a crafty woman
+would have bristled with all the arts of self-defense, but stayed at home
+and kept close to Zoe. Not so our master of arts; he went manfully to
+meet Rhoda Gale, and so secure a _te'te-'a-te'te,_ and learn, if
+possible, what she meant to do, and whether she could be cannily
+propitiated. He reached the station before her, and wired a very
+intelligent person who, he knew, conducted delicate inquiries, and had
+been very successful in a divorce case, public two years before. Even as
+he dispatched this message there was a whistling and a ringing, and the
+sound of a coming train, and Ned Severne ran to meet Rhoda Gale with a
+heart palpitating a little, and a face beaming greatly to order. He
+looked for her in the first-class carriages, but she was in the second,
+and saw him. He did not see her till she stepped out on the platform.
+Then he made toward her. He took off his hat, and said, with respectful
+zeal, “If you will tell me what luggage you have, the groom shall get it
+out.”
+
+Miss Gale's eyes wandered over him loftily. “I have only a box and a bag,
+sir, both marked 'R. G.'”
+
+“Joe,” said he--for he had already made friends with all the servants,
+and won their hearts--“box and bag marked 'R. G.' Miss Gale, you had
+better take your seat in the carriage.”
+
+Miss Gale gave a little supercilious nod, and he showed her obsequiously
+into the carriage. She laid her head back, and contemplated vacancy ahead
+in a manner anything but encouraging to this new admirer Fate had sent
+her. He turned away, a little discomfited, and when the luggage was
+brought up, he had the bag placed inside, and the box in a sort of boot,
+and then jumped in and seated himself inside. “Home,” said he to the
+coachman, and off they went. When he came in she started with
+well-feigned surprise, and stared at him.
+
+“Oh,” said she, “I have met you before. Why, it is Mr. Severne. Excuse me
+taking you for one of the servants. Some people have short memories, you
+know.”
+
+This deliberate affront was duly felt, but parried with a master-hand.
+
+“Why, I _am_ one of the servants,” said he; “only I am not Vizard's. I'm
+yours.”
+
+“In-deed!”
+
+“If you will let me.”
+
+“I am too poor to have fine servants.”
+
+“Say too haughty. You are not too poor, for I shan't cost you anything
+but a gracious word now and then.”
+
+“Unfortunately I don't deal in gracious words, only true ones.”
+
+“I see that.”
+
+“Then suppose you imitate me, and tell me why you came to meet me?”
+
+This question came from her with sudden celerity, like lightning out of a
+cloud, and she bent her eyes on him with that prodigious keenness she
+could throw into those steel gray orbs, when her mind put on its full
+power of observation.
+
+Severne colored a little, and hesitated.
+
+“Come now,” said this keen witch, “don't wait to make up a reason. Tell
+the truth for once--quick!--quick!--why did _you_ come to meet _me?”_
+
+“I didn't come to be bullied,” replied supple Severne, affecting
+sullenness.
+
+“You didn't!” cried the other, acting vast surprise. “Then what _did_ you
+come for?”
+
+“I don't know; and I wish I hadn't come.”
+
+“That I believe.” Rhoda shot this in like an arrow.
+
+“But,” continued Severne, “if I hadn't, nobody would; for it is Vizard's
+justicing day, and the ladies are too taken up with a lord to come and
+meet such vulgar trifles as genius and learning and sci--”
+
+“Come, come!” said Rhoda, contemptuously; “you care as little about
+science and learning and genius as I possess them. You won't tell me?
+Well, I shall find you out.” Then, after a pause, “Who is this lord?”
+
+“Lord Uxmoor.”
+
+“What kind of a lord is he?”
+
+“A very bushy lord.”
+
+“Bushy?--oh, bearded like the pard! Now tell me,” said she, “is he
+cutting you out with Miss Vizard?”
+
+“You shall judge for yourself. Please spare me on that one topic--if you
+ever spared anybody in your life.”
+
+“Oh, dear me!” said Rhoda, coolly. “I'm not so very cruel. I'm only a
+little vindictive and cat-like. If people offend me, I like to play with
+them a bit, and amuse myself, and then kill them--kill them--kill them;
+that is all.”
+
+This pretty little revelation of character was accompanied with a cruel
+smile that showed a long row of dazzling white teeth. They seemed capable
+of killing anything from a liar up to a hickory-nut.
+
+Severne looked at her and gave a shudder. “Then Heaven forbid you should
+ever be my enemy!” said he, sadly, “for I am unhappy enough already.”
+
+Having delivered this disarming speech, he collapsed, and seemed to be
+overpowered with despondency. Miss Gale showed no signs of melting. She
+leaned back and eyed him with steady and composed curiosity, as a
+zoologist studying a new specimen and all its little movements.
+
+They drove up to the Hall door, and Miss Gale was conducted to the
+drawing-room, where she found Lord Uxmoor and the two young ladies. Zoe
+shook hands with her. Fanny put a limp paw into hers, which made itself
+equally limp directly, so Fanny's dropped out. Lord Uxmoor was presented
+to her, at his own request. Soon after this luncheon was announced.
+Vizard joined them, welcomed Rhoda genially, and told the party he had
+ordered the break, and Uxmoor would drive them to the farm round by
+Hillstoke and the Common. “And so,” said he, “by showing Miss Gale our
+most picturesque spot at once, we may perhaps blind her to the horrors of
+her situation--for a time.”
+
+The break was driven round in due course, with Uxmoor's team harnessed to
+it. It was followed by a dog-cart crammed with grooms, Uxmoorian and
+Vizardian. The break was padded and cushioned, and held eight or nine
+people very comfortably.. It was, indeed, a sort of picnic van, used only
+in very fine weather. It rolled on beautiful springs. Its present
+contents were Miss Gale and her luggage and two hampers full of good
+things for her; Vizard, Severne, and Miss Dover. Zoe sat on the box
+beside Lord Uxmoor. They drove through the village, and Mr. Severne was
+so obliging as to point out its beauties to Miss Gale. She took little
+notice of his comments, except by a stiff nod every now and then, but
+eyed each house and premises with great keenness.
+
+At last she stopped his fluency by inquiring whether he had been into
+them all; and when he said he had not, she took advantage of that
+admission to inform him that in two days' time she should be able to tell
+him a great deal more than he was likely to tell her, upon his method of
+inspecting villages.
+
+“That is right,” said Vizard; “snub him: he gets snubbed too little here.
+How dare he pepper science with his small-talk? But it is our fault--we
+admire his volubility.”
+
+“Oh,” said Fanny, with a glance of defiance at Miss Gale, “if we are to
+talk nothing but science, it _will_ be a weary world.”
+
+After the village there was a long, gradual ascent of about a mile, and
+then they entered a new country. It was a series of woods and clearings,
+some grass, some arable. Huge oaks, flung their arms over a road lined on
+either side by short turf, close-cropped by the gypsies' cattle. Some
+band or other of them was always encamped by the road-side, and never two
+bands at once. And between these giant trees, not one of which was ever
+felled, you saw here and there a glade, green as an emerald; or a yellow
+stubble, glowing in the sun. After about a mile of this, still mounting,
+but gradually, they emerged upon a spacious table-land--a long, broad,
+open, grass plateau, studded with cottages. In this lake of grass Uxmoor
+drew up at a word from Zoe, to show Miss Gale the scene. The cottages
+were white as snow, and thatched as at Islip; but instead of
+vegetable-gardens they all had orchards. The trees were apple and cherry:
+of the latter not less than a thousand in that small hamlet. It was
+literally a lawn, a quarter of a mile long and about two hundred yards
+broad, bordered with white cottages and orchards. The cherries, red and
+black, gleamed like countless eyes among the cool leaves. There was a
+little church on the lawn that looked like a pigeon-house. A cow or two
+grazed peacefully. Pigs, big and little, crossed the lawn, grunting and
+squeaking satisfaction, and dived into the adjacent woods after acorns,
+and here and there a truffle the villagers knew not the value of. There
+was a pond or two in the lawn; one had a wooden plank fixed on uprights,
+that went in some way. A woman was out on the board, bare-armed, dipping
+her bucket in for water. In another pond an old knowing horse stood
+gravely cooling his heels up to the fetlocks. These, with shirts, male
+and female, drying on a line, and whiteheaded children rolling in the
+dust, and a donkey braying his heart out for reasons known only to
+himself, if known at all, were the principal details of the sylvan
+hamlet; but on a general survey there were grand beauties. The village
+and its turf lay in the semicircular sweep of an unbroken forest; but at
+the sides of the leafy basin glades had been cut for drawing timber,
+stacking bark, etc., and what Milton calls so happily “the checkered
+shade” was seen in all its beauty; for the hot sun struggled in at every
+aperture, and splashed the leaves and the path with fiery flashes and
+streaks, and topaz brooches, all intensified in fire and beauty by the
+cool adjacent shadows.
+
+Looking back, the view was quite open in most places. The wooded lanes
+and strips they had passed were little more in so vast a panorama than
+the black stripes on a backgammon board. The site was so high that the
+eye swept over all, and rested on a broad valley beyond, with a patchwork
+pattern of variegated fields and the curling steam of engines flying
+across all England; then swept by a vast incline up to a horizon of faint
+green hills, the famous pastures of the United Kingdom. So that it was a
+deep basin of foliage in front; but you had only to turn your body, and
+there was a forty-mile view, with all the sweet varieties of color that
+gem our fields and meadows, as they bask in the afternoon sun of that
+golden time when summer melts into autumn, and mellows without a chill.
+
+“Oh,” cried Miss Gale, “don't anybody speak, please! It is too
+beautiful!”
+
+They respected an enthusiasm so rare in this young lady, and let her
+contemplate the scene at her ease.
+
+“I reckon,” said she, dogmatically, and nodding that wise little head,
+“that this is Old England--the England my ancestors left in search of
+liberty, and that's a plant that ranks before cherry-trees, I rather
+think. No, I couldn't have gone; I'd have stayed and killed a hundred
+tyrants. But I wouldn't have chopped their heads off” (to Vizard, very
+confidentially); “I'd have poisoned 'em.”
+
+“Don't, Miss Gale!” said Fanny; “you make my blood run cold.”
+
+As it was quite indifferent to Miss Gale whether she made Miss Dover's
+blood run cold or not, she paid no attention, but proceeded with her
+reflections. “The only thing that spoils it is the smoke of those
+engines, reminding one that in two hours you or I, or that pastoral old
+hermit there in a smock-frock, and a pipe--and oh, what bad tobacco!--can
+be wrenched out of this paradise, and shrieked and rattled off and flung
+into that wilderness of brick called London, where the hearts are as hard
+as the pavement--except those that have strayed there from Barfordshire.”
+
+The witch changed face and tone and everything like lightning, and threw
+this last in with a sudden grace and sweetness that contrasted strangely
+with her usual sharpness.
+
+Zoe heard, and turned round to look down on her with a smile as sweet as
+honey. “I hardly think that is a drawback,” said she, amicably. “Does not
+being able to leave a place make it sweeter? for then we are free in it,
+you know. But I must own there _is_ a drawback--the boys' faces, Miss
+Gale, they _are_ so pasty.”
+
+“Indeed!” says Rhoda, pricking up her ears.
+
+“Form no false hopes of an epidemic. This is not an infirmary in a wood,
+Miss Gale,” said Vizard. “My sister is a great colorist, and pitches her
+expectations too high. I dare say their faces are not more pasty than
+usual; but this is a show place, and looks like a garden; so Zoe wants
+the boys to be poppies and pansies, and the girls roses and lilies.
+Which--they--are--not.”
+
+“All I know is,” said Zoe, resolutely, “that in Islip the children's
+faces are rosy, but here they are pasty--dreadfully pasty.”
+
+“Well, you have got a box of colors. We will come up some day and tint
+all the putty-faced boys.” It was to Miss Dover the company owed this
+suggestion.
+
+“No,” said Rhoda. “Their faces are my business; I'll soon fix them. She
+didn't say putty-faced; she said pasty.”
+
+“Grateful to you for the distinction, Miss Gale,” said Zoe.
+
+Miss Gale proceeded to insist that boys are not pasty-faced without a
+cause, and it is to be sought lower down. “Ah!” cried she, suddenly, “is
+that a cherry that I see before me? No, a million. They steal them and
+eat them by the thousand, and that's why. Tell the truth, now,
+everybody--they eat the stones.”
+
+Miss Vizard said she did not know, but thought them capable.
+
+“Children know nothing,” said Vizard. “Please address all future
+scientific inquiries to an 'old inhabitant.' Miss Gale, the country
+abounds in curiosities; but, among those curiosities, even Science, with
+her searching eye, has never yet discovered an unswallowed cherry stone
+in Hillstoke village.”
+
+“What! not on the trees?”
+
+“She is too much for me. Drive on, coachman, and drown her replies in the
+clatter of hoofs. Round by the Stag, Zoe. I am uneasy till I have locked
+Fair Science up. I own it is a mean way of getting rid of a troublesome
+disputant.”
+
+“Now I think it is quite fair,” said Fanny. “She shuts you up, and so you
+lock her up.”
+
+“'Tis well,” said Vizard, dolefully. “Now I am No. 3--I who used to
+retort and keep girls in their places--with difficulty. Here is Ned
+Severne, too, reduced to silence. Why, where's your tongue? Miss Gale,
+you would hardly believe it, this is our chatterbox. We have been days
+and days, and could not get in a word edgewise for him. But now all he
+can do is to gaze on you with canine devotion, and devour the honey--I
+beg pardon, the lime-juice--of your lips. I warn you of one thing,
+though; there is such a thing as a threatening silence. He is evidently
+booking every word you utter; and he will deliver it all for his own
+behind your back some fine day.”
+
+
+With this sort of banter and small talk, not worth deluging the reader
+dead with, they passed away the time till they reached the farm.
+
+“You stay here,” said Vizard--“all but Zoe. Tom and George, get the
+things out.” The grooms had already jumped out of the dog-cart, and two
+were at the horses' heads. The step-ladder was placed for Zoe, and Vizard
+asked her to go in and see the rooms were all right, while he took Miss
+Gale to the stables. He did so, and showed her a spirited Galloway and a
+steady old horse, and told her she could ride one and drive the other all
+over the country.
+
+She thanked him, but said her attention would be occupied by the two
+villages first, and she should make him a report in forty-eight hours.
+
+“As you please,” said he. “You are terribly in earnest.”
+
+“What should I be worth if I was not?'
+
+“Well, come and see your shell; and you must tell me if we have forgotten
+anything essential to your comfort.”
+
+She followed him, and he led her to a wing of the farmhouse comparatively
+new, and quite superior to the rest. Here were two good sunny rooms, with
+windows looking south and west, and they were both papered with a white
+watered pattern, and a pretty French border of flowers at the upper part,
+to look gay and cheerful.
+
+Zoe was in the bedroom, arranging things with a pretty air of
+hospitality. It was cheerily fitted up, and a fire of beech logs blazing.
+
+“How good you are!” said Rhoda, looking wistfully at her. But Zoe checked
+all comments by asking her to look at the sitting-room and see if it
+would do. Rhoda would rather have stayed with Zoe; but she complied, and
+found another bright, cheerful room, and Vizard standing in the middle of
+it. There was another beech fire blazing, though it was hot weather. Here
+was a round table, with a large pot full of flowers, geraniums and musk
+flowers outside, with the sun gilding their green leaves most amiably,
+and everything unpretending, but bright and comfortable; well padded
+sofa, luxurious armchair, stand-up reading desk, and a very large
+knee-hole table; a fine mirror from the ceiling to the dado; a book-case
+with choice books, and on a pembroke table near the wall were several
+periodicals. Rhoda, after a cursory survey of the room, flew to the
+books. “Oh!” said she, “what good books! all standard works; and several
+on medicine; and, I declare, the last numbers of the _Lancet_ and the
+_Medical Gazette,_ and the very best French and German periodicals! Oh,
+what have I done? and what can I ever do?”
+
+“What! Are _you_ going to gush like the rest--and about nothing?” said
+Vizard. “Then I'm off. Come along, Zoe;” and he hurried his sister away.
+
+She came at the word; but as soon as they were out of the house, asked
+him what was the matter.
+
+“I thought she was going to gush. But I dare say it was a false alarm.”
+
+“And why shouldn't she gush, when you have been so kind?”
+
+“Pooh--nonsense! I have not been kind to her, and don't mean to be kind
+to her, or to any woman; besides, she must not be allowed to gush; she is
+the parish virago--imported from vast distances as such--and for her to
+play the woman would be an abominable breach of faith. We have got our
+gusher, likewise our flirt; and it was understood from the first that
+this was to be a new _dramatis persona_--was not to be a repetition of
+you or _la_ Dover, but--ahem--the third Grace, a virago: solidified
+vinegar.”
+
+
+Rhoda Gale felt very happy. She was young, healthy, ambitious, and
+sanguine. She divined that, somehow, her turning point had come; and when
+she contrasted her condition a month ago, and the hardness of the world,
+with the comfort and kindness that now surrounded her, and the
+magnanimity which fled, not to be thanked for them, she felt for once in
+a way humble as well as grateful, and said to herself, “It is not to
+myself nor any merit of mine I owe such a change as all this is.” What
+some call religion, and others superstition, overpowered her, and she
+kneeled down and held communion with that great Spirit which, as she
+believed, pervades the material universe, and probably arises from it, as
+harmony from the well strung harp. Theory of the day, or Plato
+redivivus--which is it?
+
+“O great creative element, and stream of tendencies in the universe,
+whereby all things struggle toward perfection, deign to be the recipient
+of that gratitude which fills me, and cannot be silent; and since
+gratitude is right in all, and most of all in me at this moment, forgive
+me if, in the weakness of my intellect, I fall into the old error of
+addressing you as an individual. It is but the weakness of the heart; we
+are persons, and so we cry out for a personal God to be grateful to. Pray
+receive it so--if, indeed, these words of mine have any access to your
+infinitely superior nature. And if it is true that you influence the mind
+of man, and are by any act of positive volition the cause of these
+benefits I now profit by, then pray influence my mind in turn, and make
+me a more worthy recipient of all these favors; above all, inspire me to
+keep faithfully to my own sphere, which is on earth; to be good and kind
+and tolerant to my fellow creatures, perverse as they are sometimes, and
+not content myself with saying good words to you, to whose information I
+can add nothing, nor yet to your happiness, by any words of mine. Let no
+hollow sentiment of religion keep me long prating on my knees, when life
+is so short, and” (jumping suddenly up) “my duties can only be discharged
+afoot.”
+
+Refreshed by this aspiration, the like of which I have not yet heard
+delivered in churches--but the rising generation will perhaps be more
+fortunate in that respect--she went into the kitchen, ordered tea, bread
+and butter, and one egg for dinner at seven o'clock, and walked instantly
+back to Hillstoke to inspect the village, according to her ideas of
+inspection.
+
+Next morning down comes the bailiff's head man in his light cart, and a
+note is delivered to Vizard at the breakfast table. He reads it to
+himself, then proclaims silence, and reads it aloud:
+
+
+“DEAR SIR--As we crossed your hall to luncheon, there was the door of a
+small room half open, and I saw a large mahogany case standing on a
+marble table with one leg, but three claws gilt. I saw 'Micro' printed on
+the case. So I hope it is a microscope, and a fine one. To enable you to
+find it, if you don't know, the room had crimson curtains, and is papered
+in green flock. That is the worst of all the poisonous papers, because
+the texture is loose, and the poisonous stuff easily detached, and always
+flying about the room. I hope you do not sit in it, nor Miss Vizard,
+because sitting in that room is courting death. Please lend me the
+microscope, if it is one, and I'll soon show you why the boys are putty
+faced. I have inspected them, and find Miss Dover's epithet more exact
+than Miss Vizard's, which is singular. I will take great care of it.
+Yours respectfully,
+
+“RHODA GALE.”
+
+
+Vizard ordered a servant to deliver the microscope to Miss Gale's
+messenger with his compliments. Fanny wondered what she wanted with it.
+“Not to inspect our little characters, it is to be hoped,” said Vizard.
+“Why not pay her a visit, you ladies? then she will tell you, perhaps.”
+ The ladies instantly wore that bland look of inert but rocky resistance I
+have already noted as a characteristic of “our girls.” Vizard saw, and
+said, “Try and persuade them, Uxmoor.”
+
+“I can only offer Miss Vizard my escort,” said Lord Uxmoor.
+
+“And I offer both ladies mine,” said Ned Severne, rather loud and with a
+little sneer, to mark his superior breeding. The gentleman was so
+extremely polite in general that there was no mistaking his hostile
+intentions now. The inevitable war had begun, and the first shot was
+fired. Of course the wonder was it had not come long before; and perhaps
+I ought to have drawn more attention to the delicacy and tact of Zoe
+Vizard, which had averted it for a time. To be sure, she had been aided
+by the size of the house and its habits. The ladies had their own sitting
+rooms; Fanny kept close to Zoe by special orders; and nobody could get a
+chance _te'te-'a-te'te_ with Zoe unless she chose. By this means, her
+native dignity and watchful tact, by her frank courtesy to Uxmoor, and by
+the many little quiet ways she took to show Severne her sentiments
+remained unchanged, she had managed to keep the peace, and avert that
+open competition for her favor which would have tickled the vanity of a
+Fanny Dover, but shocked the refined modesty of a Zoe Vizard.
+
+But nature will have her way soon or late, and it is the nature of males
+to fight for the female.
+
+At Severne's shot Uxmoor drew up a little haughtily, but did not feel
+sure anything was intended. He was little accustomed to rubs. Zoe, on the
+other hand, turned a little pale--just a little, for she was sorry, but
+not surprised; so she proved equal to the occasion. She smiled and made
+light of it. “Of course we are _all_ going,” said she.
+
+“Except one,” said Vizard, dryly.
+
+“That is too bad,” said Fanny. “Here he drives us all to visit his
+blue-stocking, but he takes good care not to go himself.”
+
+“Perhaps he prefers to visit her alone,” suggested Severne. Zoe looked
+alarmed.
+
+“That is _so,”_ said Vizard. “Observe, I am learning her very phrases.
+When you come back, tell me every word she says; pray let nothing be lost
+that falls from my virago.”
+
+The party started after luncheon; and Severne, true to his new policy,
+whipped to Zoe's side before Uxmoor, and engaged her at once in
+conversation.
+
+Uxmoor bit his lip, and fell to Fanny. Fanny saw at once what was going
+on, and made herself very agreeable to Uxmoor. He was polite and a little
+gratified, but cast uneasy glances at the other pair.
+
+Meantime Severne was improving his opportunity. “Sorry to disturb Lord
+Uxmoor's monopoly,” said he, sarcastically, “but I could not bear it any
+longer.”
+
+“I do not object to the change,” said Zoe, smiling maternally on him;
+“but you will be good enough to imitate me in one thing--you will always
+be polite to Lord Uxmoor.”
+
+“He makes it rather hard.”
+
+“It is only for a time; and we must learn to be capable of self-denial. I
+assure you I have exercised quite as much as I ask of you. Edward, he is
+a gentleman of great worth, universally respected, and my brother has a
+particular wish to be friends with him. So pray be patient; be
+considerate. Have a little faith in one who--”
+
+She did not end the sentence.
+
+“Well, I will,” said he. “But please think of me a little. I am beginning
+to feel quite thrust aside, and degraded in my own eyes for putting up
+with it.”
+
+“For shame, to talk so,” said Zoe; but the tears came into her eyes.
+
+The master of arts saw, and said no more. He had the art of not
+overdoing: he left the arrow to rankle. He walked by her side in a
+silence for ever so long. Then, suddenly, as if by a mighty effort of
+unselfish love, went off into delightful discourse. He cooed and wooed
+and flattered and fascinated; and by the time they reached the farm had
+driven Uxmoor out of her head.
+
+Miss Gale was out. The farmer's wife said she had gone into the
+town--meaning Hillstoke--which was, strictly speaking, a hamlet or
+tributary village. Hillstoke church was only twelve years old, and the
+tithes of the place went to the parson of Islip.
+
+When Zoe turned to go, Uxmoor seized the opportunity, and drew up beside
+her, like a soldier falling into the ranks. Zoe felt hot; but as Severne
+took no open notice, she could not help smiling at the behavior of the
+fellows; and Uxmoor got his chance.
+
+Severne turned to Fanny with a wicked sneer. “Very well, my lord,” said
+he; “but I have put a spoke in your wheel.”
+
+“As if I did not see, you clever creature!” said Fanny, admiringly.
+
+“Ah, Miss Dover, I need to be as clever as you! See what I have against
+me: a rich lord, with the bushiest beard.”
+
+“Never you mind,” said Fanny. “Good wine needs no bush, ha! ha! You are
+lovely, and have a wheedling tongue, and you were there first. Be good,
+now--and you can flirt with me to fill up the time. I hate not being
+flirted at all. It is stagnation.”
+
+“Yes, but it is not so easy to flirt with you just a little. You are so
+charming.” Thereupon he proceeded to flatter her, and wonder how he had
+escaped a passionate attachment to so brilliant a creature. “What saved
+me,” said he, oracularly, “is, that I never could love two at once; and
+Zoe seized my love at sight. She left me nothing to lay at your feet but
+my admiration, the tenderest friendship man can feel for woman, and my
+lifelong gratitude for fighting my battle. Oh, Miss Dover, I must be
+quite serious a moment. What other lady but you would be so generous as
+to befriend a poor man with another lady, when there's wealth and title
+on the other side?”
+
+Fanny blushed and softened, but turned it off. “There--no heroics,
+please,” said she. “You are a dear little fellow; and don't go and be
+jealous, for he shan't have her. He would never ask me to his house, you
+know. Now I think you would perhaps--who knows? Tell me, fascinating
+monster, are you going to be ungrateful?”
+
+“Not to you. My home would always be yours; and you know it.” And he
+caught her hand and kissed it in an ungovernable transport, the strings
+of which be pulled himself. He took care to be quick about it, though,
+and not let Zoe or Uxmoor see, who were walking on before and behaving
+sedately.
+
+In Hillstoke lived, on a pension from Vizard, old Mrs. Greenaway,
+rheumatic about the lower joints, so she went on crutches; but she went
+fast, being vigorous, and so did her tongue. At Hillstoke she was Dame
+Greenaway, being a relic of that generation which applied the word dame
+to every wife, high and low; but at Islip she was “Sally,” because she
+had started under that title, fifty-five years ago, as house-maid at
+Vizard Court; and, by the tenacity of oral tradition, retained it ever
+since, in spite of two husbands she had wedded and buried with equal
+composure.
+
+Her feet were still springy, her arms strong as iron, and her crutches
+active. At sight of our party she came out with amazing wooden strides,
+agog for gossip, and met them at the gate. She managed to indicate a
+courtesy, and said, “Good day, miss; your sarvant, all the company. Lord,
+how nice you be dressed, all on ye, to--be--sure! Well, miss, have ye
+heerd the news?”
+
+“No, Sally. What is it?”
+
+“What! haant ye heerd about the young 'oman at the farm?”
+
+“Oh yes; we came to see her.”
+
+“No, did ye now? Well, she was here not half an hour agone. By the same
+toaken, I did put her a question, and she answered me then and there.”
+
+“And may I ask what the question was?”
+
+“And welcome, miss. I said, says I, 'Young 'oman, where be you come
+from?' so says she, 'Old 'oman, I be come from forin parts.' 'I thought
+as much,' says I. 'And what be 'e come _for?'_ 'To sojourn here,' says
+she, which she meant to bide a time. 'And what do 'e count to do whilst
+here you be?' says I. Says she, 'As much good as ever I can do, and as
+little harm.' 'That is no answer,' says I. She said it would do for the
+present; 'and good day to you, ma'am,' says she. 'Your sarvant, miss,'
+says I; and she was off like a flash. But I called my grandson Bill, and
+I told him he must follow her, go where she would, and let us know what
+she was up to down in Islip. Then I went round the neighbors, and one
+told me one tale, and another another. But it all comes to one--we have
+gotten A BUSYBODY; that's the name I gives her. She don't give in to
+that, ye know; she is a Latiner, and speaks according. She gave Master
+Giles her own description. Says she, 'I'm suspector-general of this here
+districk.' So then Giles he was skeared a bit--he have got an acre of
+land of his own, you know--and he up and asked her did she come under the
+taxes, or was she a fresh imposition; 'for we are burdened enough
+a'ready, no offense to you, miss,' says Josh Giles. 'Don't you be
+skeared, old man,' says she, 'I shan't cost _you_ none; your betters pays
+for I.' So says Giles, 'Oh, if you falls on squire, I don't vally that;
+squire's back is broad enough to bear the load, but I'm a poor man.'
+That's how a' goes on, ye know. Poverty is always in his mouth, but the
+old chap have got a hatful of money hid away in the thatch or some're,
+only he haan't a got the heart to spend it.”
+
+“Tell us more about the young lady,” asked Uxmoor.
+
+“What young lady? Oh, _her._ She is not a young lady--leastways she is
+not dressed like one, but like a plain, decent body. She was all of a
+piece--blue serge! Bless your heart, the peddlers bring it round here at
+elevenpence half-penny the yard, and a good breadth too; and plain boots,
+not heeled like your'n, miss, nor your'n, ma'am; and a felt hat like a
+boy. You'd say the parish had dressed her for ten shillings, and got a
+pot of beer out on't.”
+
+“Well, never mind that,” said Zoe; “I must tell you she is a very worthy
+young lady, and my brother has a respect for her. Dress? Why, Sally, you
+know it is not the wisest that spend most on dress. You might tell us
+what she _does.”_
+
+Dame Greenaway snatched the word out of her mouth. “Well, then, miss,
+what she have done, she have suspected everything. She have suspected the
+ponds; she have suspected the houses; she have suspected the folk; she
+must know what they eat and drink and wear next their very skin, and what
+they do lie down on. She have been at the very boys and forebade 'em to
+swallow the cherry stones, poor things; but old Mrs. Nash--which her boys
+lives on cherries at this time o' year, and to be sure they are a godsend
+to keep the children hereabout from starving--well, Dame Nash told her
+the Almighty knew best; he had put 'em together on the tree, so why not
+in the boys' insides; and that was common sense to my mind. But la! she
+wouldn't heed it. She said, 'Then you'd eat the peach stones by that
+rule, and the fish bones and all.' Says she, quite resolute like, 'I
+forbid 'em to swallow the stones;' and says she, 'Ye mawnt gainsay me,
+none on ye, for I be the new doctor.' So then it all come out. She isn't
+suspector-general; she is a wench turned doctor, which it is against
+reason. Shan't doctor _me_ for one; but that there old Giles, he says he
+is agreeable, if so be she wool doctor him cheap--cussed old fool!--as if
+any doctoring was cheap that kills a body and doan't cure 'em. Dear
+heart, I forgot to tell ye about the ponds. Well, you know there be no
+wells here. We makes our tea out of the ponds, and capital good tea to
+drink, far before well water, for I mind that one day about twenty years
+agone some interfering body did cart a barrel up from Islip; and if we
+wants water withouten tea, why, we can get plenty on't, and none too much
+malt and hops, at 'The Black Horse.' So this here young 'oman she
+suspects the poor ponds and casts a hevil-eye on them, and she borrows
+two mugs of Giles, and carries the water home to suspect it closer. That
+is all she have done at present, but, ye see, she haan't been here so
+very long. You mark my words, miss, that young 'oman will turn Hillstoke
+village topsy-turvy or ever she goes back to London town.”
+
+“Nonsense, Sally,” said Zoe; “how can anybody do that while my brother
+and I are alive?” She then slipped half a crown into Sally's hand, and
+led the way to Islip.
+
+On the road her conversation with Oxmoor took a turn suggestive of this
+interview. I forget which began it; but they differed a little in
+opinion, Uxmoor admiring Miss Gale's zeal and activity, and Zoe fearing
+that she would prove a rash reformer, perhaps a reckless innovator.
+
+“And really,” said she, “why disturb things? for, go where I will, I see
+no such Paradise as these two villages.”
+
+“They are indeed lovely,” said Uxmoor; “but my own village is very
+pretty. Yet on nearer inspection I have found so many defects, especially
+in the internal arrangements of the cottages, that I am always glad to
+hear of a new eye having come to bear on any village.”
+
+“I know you are very good,” said Zoe, “and wish all the poor people about
+you to be as healthy and as happy as possible.”
+
+“I really do,” said, warmly. “I often think of the strange inequality in
+the lot of men. Living in the country, I see around me hundreds of men
+who are by nature as worthy as I am, or thereabouts. Yet they must toil
+and labor, and indeed fight, for bare food and clothing, all their lives,
+and worse off at the close of their long labor. That is what grieves me
+to the heart. All this time I revel in plenty and luxuries--not
+forgetting the luxury of luxuries, the delight of giving to those who
+need and deserve. What have I done for all this? I have been born of the
+right parents. My merit, then, is the accident of an accident. But having
+done nothing meritorious before I was born, surely I ought to begin
+afterward. I think a man born to wealth ought to doubt his moral title to
+it, and ought to set to work to prove it--ought to set himself to repair
+the injustice of fortune by which he profits. Yes, such a man should be a
+sort of human sunshine, and diffuse blessings all round him. The poor man
+that encounters him ought to bless the accident. But there, I am not
+eloquent. You know how much more I mean than I can say.”
+
+“Indeed I do,” said Zoe, “and I honor you.”
+
+“Ah, Miss Vizard,” said Uxmoor, “that is more than I can ever deserve.”
+
+“You are praising me at your own expense,” said Zoe. “Well, then,” said
+she, sweetly, “please accept my sympathy. It is so rare to find a
+gentleman of your age thinking so little of himself and so much of poor
+people. Yet that is a Divine command. But somehow we forget our religion
+out of church--most of us. I am sure I do, for one.”
+
+This conversation brought them to the village, and there they met Vizard,
+and Zoe repeated old Sally's discourse to him word for word. He shook his
+head solemnly, and said he shared her misgivings. “We have caught a
+Tartar.”
+
+On arriving at Vizard Court, they found Miss Gale had called and left two
+cards.
+
+
+Open rivalry having now commenced between Uxmoor and Severne, his
+lordship was adroit enough to contrive that the drag should be in request
+next day.
+
+Then Severne got Fanny to convey a note to Zoe, imploring her to open her
+bedroom window and say good-night to him the last. “For,” said he, “I
+have no coach and four, and I am very unhappy.”
+
+This and his staying sullenly at home spoiled Zoe's ride, and she was
+cool to Uxmoor, and spoiled his drive.
+
+At night Zoe peeped through the curtain and saw Severne standing in the
+moonlight. She drank him in for some time in silence, then softly opened
+her window and looked out. He took a step nearer.
+
+She said, very softly and tenderly, “You are very naughty, and very
+foolish. Go to bed _di-_rectly.” And she closed her window with a valiant
+slam; then sat down and sighed.
+
+Same game next day. Uxmoor driving, Zoe wonderfully polite, but chill,
+because he was separating her and Severne. At night, Severne on the wet
+grass, and Zoe remonstrating severely, but not sincerely, and closing the
+window peremptorily she would have liked to keep open half the night.
+
+
+It has often been remarked that great things arise out of small things,
+and sometimes, when in full motion, depend on small things. History
+offers brilliant examples upon its large stage. Fiction has imitated
+history in _un verre d'eau_ and other compositions. To these examples,
+real or feigned, I am now about to add one; and the curious reader may,
+if he thinks it worth while, note the various ramifications at home and
+abroad of a seemingly trivial incident.
+
+They were all seated at luncheon, when a servant came in with a salver,
+and said, “A gentleman to see you, sir.” He presented his salver with a
+card upon it. Severne clutched the card, and jumped up, reddening.
+
+“Show him in here,” said the hospitable Vizard.
+
+“No, no,” cried Severne, rather nervously; “it is my lawyer on a little
+private business.”
+
+Vizard told the servant to show the visitor into the library, and take in
+the Madeira and some biscuits.
+
+“It is about a lease,” said Ned Severne, and went out rather hurriedly.
+
+“La!” said Fanny, “what a curious name--Poikilus. And what does S. I.
+mean, I wonder?”
+
+“This is enigmatical discourse,” said Vizard, dryly. “Please explain.”
+
+“Why, the card had Poikilus on it.”
+
+“You are very inquisitive,” said Zoe, coloring.
+
+“No more than my neighbors. But the man put his salver right between our
+noses, and how could I help seeing Poikilus in large letters, and S. I.
+in little ones up in the corner?”
+
+Said Vizard, “The female eye is naturally swift. She couldn't help seeing
+all that in _half a minute of time;_ for Ned Severne snatched up the card
+with vast expedition.”
+
+“I saw that too,” said Fanny, defiantly.
+
+Uxmoor put in his word. “Poikilus! That is a name one sees in the
+papers.”
+
+“Of course you do. He is one of the humbugs of the day. Pretends to find
+things out; advertises mysterious disappearances; offers a magnificent
+reward--with perfect safety, because he has invented the lost girl's
+features and dress, and her disappearance into the bargain; and I hold
+with the schoolmen that she who does not exist cannot disappear.
+Poikilus, a puffing detective. S. I., Secret Inquiry. _I_ spell Enquiry
+with an E--but Poikilus is a man of the day. What the deuce can Ned
+Severne want of him? I suppose I ought not to object. I have established
+a female detective at Hillstoke. So Ned sets one up at Islip. I shall
+make my own secret arrangements. If Poikilus settles here, he will be
+drawn through the horse-pond by small-minded rustics once a week.”
+
+While he was going on like this, Zoe felt uncomfortable, and almost
+irritated by his volubility, and it was a relief to her when Severne
+returned. He had confided a most delicate case to the detective, given
+him written instructions, and stipulated for his leaving the house
+without a word to any one, and, indeed, seen him off--all in seven
+minutes. Yet he returned to our party cool as a cucumber, to throw dust
+in everybody's eyes.
+
+“I must apologize for this intrusion,” he said to Vizard; “but my lawyer
+wanted to consult me about the lease of one of my farms, and, finding
+himself in the neighborhood, he called instead of writing.”
+
+“Your lawyer, eh?” said Vizard, slyly. “What is your lawyer's name?”
+
+“Jackson,” said Ned, without a moment's hesitation.
+
+Fanny giggled in her own despite.
+
+Instead of stopping here, Severne must go on; it was his unlucky day.
+
+“Not quite a gentleman, you know, or I would have inflicted his society
+on you.”
+
+“Not quite--eh?” said Harrington, so dryly that Fanny Dover burst into a
+fit of uncontrollable laughter.
+
+But Zoe turned hot and cold to see him blundering thus, and telling lie
+upon lie.
+
+Severne saw there was something wrong, and buried his nose in pigeon pie.
+He devoured it with an excellent appetite, while every eye rested on him;
+Zoe's with shame and misery, Uxmoor's with open contempt, Vizard's with
+good humored satire.
+
+The situation became intolerable to Zoe Vizard. Indignant and deeply
+shocked herself, she still could not bear to see him the butt of others'
+ridicule and contempt. She rose haughtily and marched to the door. He
+raised his head for a moment as she went out. She turned, and their eyes
+met. She gave him such a glance of pity and disdain as suspended the meat
+upon his fork, and froze him into comprehending that something very
+serious indeed had happened.
+
+He resolved to learn from Fanny what it was, and act accordingly. But
+Zoe's maid came in and whispered Fanny. She went out, and neither of the
+young ladies was seen till dinner-time. It was conveyed to Uxmoor that
+there would be no excursion of any kind this afternoon; and therefore he
+took his hat, and went off to pay a visit. He called on Rhoda Gale. She
+was at home. He intended merely to offer her his respects, and to side
+with her generally against these foolish rustics; but she was pleased
+with him for coming, and made herself so agreeable that he spent the
+whole afternoon comparing notes with her upon village life, and the
+amelioration it was capable of. Each could give the other valuable ideas;
+and he said he hoped she would visit his part of the country ere long;
+she would find many defects, but also a great desire to amend them.
+
+This flattered her, naturally; and she began to take an interest in him.
+That interest soon took the form of curiosity. She must know whether he
+was seriously courting Zoe Vizard or not. The natural reserve of a
+well-bred man withstood this at first; but that armor could not resist
+for two mortal hours such a daughter of Eve as this, with her insidious
+questions, her artful statements, her cat-like retreats and cat-like
+returns. She learned--though he did not see how far he had committed
+himself--that he admired Zoe Vizard and would marry her to-morrow if she
+would have him; his hesitation to ask her, because he had a rival, whose
+power he could not exactly measure; but a formidable and permitted rival.
+
+They parted almost friends; and Rhoda settled quietly in her mind he
+should have Zoe Vizard, since he was so fond of her.
+
+Here again it was Severne's unlucky day, and Uxmoor's lucky. To carry
+this same day to a close, Severne tried more than once to get near Zoe
+and ask if he had offended her, and in what. But no opportunity occurred.
+So then he sat and gazed at her, and looked unhappy. She saw, and was not
+unmoved, but would not do more than glance at him. He resigned himself to
+wait till night.
+
+Night came. He went on the grass. There was a light in Zoe's room. It was
+eleven o'clock. He waited, shivering, till twelve. Then the light was put
+out; but no window opened. There was a moon; and her windows glared black
+on him, dark and bright as the eyes she now averted from him. He was in
+disgrace.
+
+The present incident I have recorded did not end here; and I must now
+follow Poikilus on his mission to Homburg; and if the reader has a sense
+of justice, methinks he will not complain of the journey, for see how
+long I have neglected the noblest figure in this story, and the most to
+be pitied. To desert her longer would be too unjust, and derange entirely
+the balance of this complicated story.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+A CRUEL mental stroke, like a heavy blow upon the body, sometimes benumbs
+and sickens at first, but does not torture; yet that is to follow.
+
+It was so with Ina Klosking. The day she just missed Edward Severne, and
+he seemed to melt away from her very grasp into the wide world again, she
+could drag herself to the theater and sing angelically, with a dull and
+aching heart. But next day her heart entered on sharper suffering. She
+was irritated, exasperated; chained to the theater, to Homburg, yet wild
+to follow Severne to England without delay. She told Ashmead she must and
+would go. He opposed it stoutly, and gave good reasons. She could not
+break faith with the management. England was a large place. They had, as
+yet, no clew but a name. By waiting, the clew would come. The sure course
+was to give publicity in England to her winnings, and so draw Severne to
+her. But for once she was too excited to listen to reason. She was
+tempest-tossed. “I will go--I will go,” she repeated, as she walked the
+room wildly, and flung her arms aloft with reckless abandon, and yet with
+a terrible majesty, an instinctive grace, and all the poetry of a great
+soul wronged and driven wild.
+
+She overpowered Ashmead and drove him to the director. He went most
+unwillingly; but once there, was true to her, and begged off the
+engagement eagerly. The director refused this plump. Then Ashmead, still
+true to his commission, offered him (most reluctantly) a considerable sum
+down to annul the contract, and backed this with a quiet hint that she
+would certainly fall ill if refused. The director knew by experience what
+this meant, and how easily these ladies can command the human body to
+death's door _pro re nata,_ and how readily a doctor's certificate can be
+had to say or swear that the great creature cannot sing or act without
+peril to life, though really both these arts are grand medicines, and far
+less likely to injure the _bona fide_ sick than are the certifying
+doctor's draughts and drugs. The director knew all this; but he was
+furious at the disappointment threatened him. “No,” said he; “this is
+always the way; a poor devil of a manager is never to have a success. It
+is treacherous, it is ungrateful: I'll close. You tell her if she is
+determined to cut all our throats and kick her own good fortune down, she
+can; but, by ----, I'll make her smart for it! Mind, now; she closes the
+theater and pays the expenses, if she plays me false.”
+
+“But if she is ill?”
+
+“Let her die and be ----, and then I'll believe her. She is the
+healthiest woman in Germany. I'll go and take steps to have her arrested
+if she offers to leave the town.”
+
+Ashmead reported the manager's threats, and the Klosking received them as
+a lioness the barking of a cur. She drew herself swiftly up, and her
+great eye gleamed imperial disdain at all his menaces but one.
+
+“He will not really close the theater,” said she, loftily; but uneasiness
+lurked in her manner.
+
+“He will,” said Ashmead. “He is desperate: and you know it _is_ hard to
+go on losing and losing, and then the moment luck turns to be done out of
+it, in spite of a written bargain. I've been a manager myself.”
+
+“So many poor people!” said Ina, with a sigh; and her defiant head sunk a
+little.
+
+“Oh, bother _them!”_ said Ashmead, craftily. “Let 'em starve.”
+
+“God forbid!” said Ina. Then she sighed again, and her queenly head sunk
+lower. Then she faltered out, “I have the will to break faith and ruin
+poor people, but I have not the courage.”
+
+Then a tear or two began to trickle, carrying with them all the
+egotistical resolution Ina Klosking possessed at that time. Perhaps we
+shall see her harden: nothing stands still.
+
+This time the poor conquered.
+
+But every now and then for many days there were returns of torment and
+agitation and wild desire to escape to England.
+
+Ashmead made head against these with his simple arts. For one thing, he
+showed her a dozen paragraphs in MS. he was sending to as many English
+weekly papers, describing her heavy gains at the table. “With these
+stones,” said he, “I kill two birds: extend your fame, and entice your
+idol back to you.” Here a growl, which I suspect was an inarticulate
+curse. Joseph, fi!
+
+The pen of Joseph on such occasions was like his predecessor's coat,
+polychromatic. The Klosking read him, and wondered. “Alas!” said she,
+“with what versatile skill do you descant on a single circumstance not
+very creditable.”
+
+“Creditable!” said Ashmead; “it was very naughty, but it is very nice.”
+ And the creature actually winked, forgetting, of course, whom he was
+winking at, and wasting his vulgarity on the desert air; for the
+Klosking's eye might just manage to blink--at the meridian sun, or so
+forth; but it never winked once in all its life.
+
+One of the paragraphs ran thus, with a heading in small capitals:
+
+
+“A PRIMA DONNA AT THE GAMBLING TABLE.
+
+“Mademoiselle Klosking, the great contralto, whose success has been
+already recorded in all the journals, strolled, on one of her off nights,
+into the Kursaal at Homburg, and sat down to _trente et quarante._ Her
+melodious voice was soon heard betting heavily, with the most engaging
+sweetness of manner; and doubling seven times upon the red, she broke the
+bank, and retired with a charming courtesy and eight thousand pounds in
+gold and notes.”
+
+
+Another dealt with the matter thus:
+
+“ROUGE ET NOIR.
+
+“The latest coup at Homburg has been made by a cantatrice whose praises
+all Germany are now ringing. Mademoiselle Klosking, successor and rival
+of Alboni, went to the Kursaal, _pour passer le temps;_ and she passed it
+so well that in half an hour the bank was broken, and there was a pile of
+notes and gold before La Klosking amounting to ten thousand pounds and
+more. The lady waved these over to her agent, Mr. Joseph Ashmead, with a
+hand which, _par parenthe'se,_ is believed to be the whitest in Europe,
+and retired gracefully.”
+
+
+On perusing this, La Klosking held _two_ white hands up to heaven in
+amazement at the skill and good taste which had dragged this feature into
+the incident.
+
+“A DRAMATIC SITUATION.
+
+“A circumstance has lately occurred here which will infallibly be seized
+on by the novelists in search of an incident. Mademoiselle Klosking, the
+new contralto, whose triumphant progress through Europe will probably be
+the next event in music, walked into the Kursaal the other night, broke
+the bank, and walked out again with twelve thousand pounds, and that
+charming composure which is said to distinguish her in private life.
+
+“What makes it more remarkable is that the lady is not a gamester, has
+never played before, and is said to have declared that she shall never
+play again. It is certain that, with such a face, figure, and voice as
+hers, she need never seek for wealth at the gambling-table. Mademoiselle
+Klosking is now in negotiation with all the principal cities of the
+Continent. But the English managers, we apprehend, will prove awkward
+competitors.”
+
+
+Were I to reproduce the nine other paragraphs, it would be a very
+curious, instructive, and tedious specimen of literature; and, who knows?
+I might corrupt some immaculate soul, inspire some actor or actress,
+singer or songstress, with an itch for public self-laudation, a foible
+from which they are all at present so free. Witness the _Era,_ the
+_Hornet,_ and _Figaro._
+
+Ina Klosking spotted what she conceived to be a defect in these
+histories. “My friend,” said she meekly, “the sum I won was under five
+thousand pounds.”
+
+“Was it? Yes, to be sure. But, you see, these are English advertisements.
+Now England is so rich that if you keep down to any _Continental_ sum,
+you give a false impression in England of the importance on the spot.”
+
+“And so we are to falsify figures? In the first of these legends it was
+double the truth; and, as I read, it enlarges--oh, but it enlarges,” said
+Ina, with a Gallicism we shall have to forgive in a lady who spoke five
+languages.
+
+“Madam,” said Ashmead, dryly, “you must expect your capital to increase
+rapidly, so long as I conduct it.”
+
+Not being herself swift to shed jokes, Ina did not take them rapidly. She
+stared at him. He never moved a muscle. She gave a slight shrug of her
+grand shoulders, and resigned that attempt to reason with the creature.
+
+She had a pill in store for him, though. She told him that, as she had
+sacrificed the longings of her heart to the poor of the theater, so she
+should sacrifice a portion of her ill-gotten gains to the poor of the
+town.
+
+He made a hideously wry face at that, asked what poor-rates were for, and
+assured her that “pauper” meant “drunkard.”
+
+“It is not written so in Scripture,” said Ina; “and I need their prayers,
+for I am very unhappy.”
+
+In short, Ashmead was driven out from the presence chamber with a
+thousand thalers to distribute among the poor of Homburg; and, once in
+the street, his face did not shine like an angel of mercy's, but was very
+pinched and morose; hardly recognizable--poor Joe!
+
+By-and-by he scratched his head. Now it is unaccountable, but certain
+heads often yield an idea in return for that. Joseph's did, and his
+countenance brightened.
+
+Three days after this Ina was surprised by a note from the burgomaster,
+saying that he and certain of the town council would have the honor of
+calling on her at noon.
+
+What might this mean?
+
+She sent to ask for Mr. Ashmead; he was not to be found; he had hidden
+himself too carefully.
+
+The deputation came and thanked her for her munificent act of charity.
+
+She looked puzzled at first, then blushed to the temples. “Munificent
+act, gentlemen! Alas! I did but direct my agent to distribute a small sum
+among the deserving poor. He has done very ill to court your attention.
+My little contribution should have been as private as it is
+insignificant.”
+
+“Nay, madam,” said the clerk of the council, who was a recognized orator,
+“your agent did well to consult our worthy burgomaster, who knows the
+persons most in need and most deserving. We do not doubt that you love to
+do good in secret. Nevertheless, we have also our sense of duty, and we
+think it right that so benevolent an act should be published, as an
+example to others. In the same view, we claim to comment publicly on your
+goodness.” Then he looked to the burgomaster, who took him up.
+
+“And we comment thus: Madam, since the Middle Ages the freedom of this
+town has not been possessed by any female. There is, however, no law
+forbidding it, and therefore, madam, the civic authorities, whom I
+represent, do hereby present to you the freedom of this burgh.”
+
+He then handed her an emblazoned vellum giving her citizenship, with the
+reasons written plainly in golden letters.
+
+Ina Klosking, who had remained quite quiet during the speeches, waited a
+moment or two, and then replied, with seemly grace and dignity:
+
+“Mr. Burgomaster and gentlemen, you have paid me a great and unexpected
+compliment, and I thank you for it. But one thing makes me uneasy: it is
+that I have done so little to deserve this. I console myself, however, by
+reflecting that I am still young, and may have opportunities to show
+myself grateful, and even to deserve, in the future, this honor, which at
+present overpays me, and almost oppresses me. On that understanding,
+gentlemen, be pleased to bestow, and let me receive, the rare compliment
+you have paid me by admitting me to citizenship in your delightful town.”
+ (To herself:) “I'll scold him well for this.”
+
+Low courtesy; profound bows; exit deputation enchanted with her; _manet_
+Klosking with the freedom of the city in her hand and ingratitude in her
+heart; for her one idea was to get hold of Mr. Joseph Ashmead directly
+and reproach him severely for all this, which she justly ascribed to his
+machinations.
+
+The cunning Ashmead divined her project, and kept persistently out of her
+way. That did not suit her neither. She was lonely. She gave the waiter a
+friendly line to bring him to her.
+
+Now, mind you, she was too honest to pretend she was not going to scold
+him. So this is what she wrote:
+
+
+“MY FRIEND--Have you deserted me? Come to me, and be remonstrated. What
+have you to fear? You know so well how to defend yourself.
+
+“INA KLOSKING.”
+
+
+Arrived in a very few minutes Mr. Ashamed, jaunty, cheerful, and
+defensive.
+
+Ina, with a countenance from which all discontent was artfully extracted,
+laid before him, in the friendliest way you can imagine, an English
+Bible. It was her father's, and she always carried it with her. “I wish,”
+ said she, insidiously, “to consult you on a passage or two of this book.
+How do you understand this:
+
+“'When thou doest thine alms, do not send a trumpet before thee, as the
+hypocrites do.'
+
+“And this:
+
+“'When thou doest thine alms, let not thy right hand know what thy left
+hand doeth, that thine alms may be in secret; and thy Father, which seeth
+in secret, shall reward thee openly.'”
+
+Having pointed out these sentences with her finger, she looked to him for
+his interpretation. Joseph, thus erected into a Scripture commentator,
+looked at the passages first near, and then afar off, as if the true
+interpretation depended on perspective. Having thus gained a little time,
+he said, “Well, I think the meaning is clear enough. We are to hide our
+own light under a bushel. But it don't say an agent is to hide his
+employer's.'
+
+“Be serious, sir. This is a great authority.”
+
+“Oh, of course, of course. Still--if you won't be offended, ma'am--times
+are changed since then. It was a very small place, where news spread of
+itself; and all that cannot be written for theatrical agents, because
+there wasn't one in creation.”
+
+“And so now their little customs, lately invented, like themselves, are
+to prevail against God's im-mor-tal law!” It was something half way
+between Handel and mellowed thunder the way her grand contralto suddenly
+rolled out these three words. Joseph was cunning. He put on a crushed
+appearance, deceived by which the firm but gentle Klosking began to
+soften her tone directly.
+
+“It has given me pain,” said she, sorrowfully. “And I am afraid God will
+be angry with us both for our ostentation.”
+
+“Not He,” said Joseph, consolingly. “Bless your heart, He is not half so
+irritable as the parsons fancy; they confound Him with themselves.”
+
+Ina ignored this suggestion with perfect dignity and flowed on: “All I
+stipulate now is that I may not see this pitiable parade in print.”
+
+“That is past praying for, then,” said Ashmead, resolutely. “You might as
+well try to stop the waves as check publicity--in our day. Your
+munificence to the poor--confound the lazy lot!--and the gratitude of
+those pompous prigs, the deputation--the presentation--your admirable
+reply--”
+
+“You never heard it, now--”
+
+“Which, as you say, I was not so fortunate as to hear, and so must
+content myself with describing it--all this is flying north, south, east,
+and west.”
+
+“Oh no, no, no! You have not _advertised_ it?”
+
+“Not advertised it! For what do you take me? Wait till you see the bill I
+am running up against you. Madam, you must take people as they are. Don't
+try to un-Ashmead _me;_ it is impossible. Catch up that knife and kill
+me. I'll not resist; on the contrary, I'll sit down and prepare an
+obituary notice for the weeklies, and say I did it. BUT WHILE I BREATHE I
+ADVERTISE.”
+
+And Joseph was defiant; and the Klosking shrugged her noble shoulders,
+and said, “You best of creatures, you are incurable.”
+
+To follow this incident to its conclusion, not a week after this scene,
+Ina Klosking detected, in an English paper,
+
+“A CHARITABLE ACT.
+
+“Mademoiselle Klosking, the great contralto, having won a large sum of
+money at the Kursaal, has given a thousand pounds to the poor of the
+place. The civic authorities hearing of this, and desirous to mark their
+sense of so noble a donation, have presented her with the freedom of the
+burgh, written on vellum and gold. Mademoiselle Klosking received the
+compliment with charming grace and courtesy; but her modesty is said to
+have been much distressed at the publicity hereby given to an act she
+wished to be known only to the persons relieved by her charity.”
+
+
+Ina caught the culprit and showed him this. “A thousand pounds!” said
+she. “Are you not ashamed? Was ever a niggardly act so embellished and
+exaggerated? I feel my face very red, sir.”
+
+“Oh, I'll explain that in a moment,” said Joseph, amicably. “Each nation
+has a coin it is always quoting. France counts in francs, Germany in
+thalers, America in dollars, England in pounds. When a thing costs a
+million francs in France, or a million dollars in the States, that is
+always called a million pounds in the English journals: otherwise it
+would convey no distinct idea at all to an Englishman. Turning thalers
+and francs into pounds--_that_ is not _exaggeration;_ it is only
+_translation.”_
+
+Ina gave him such a look. He replied with an unabashed smile.
+
+She shrugged her shoulders in silence this time, and, to the best of my
+belief, made no more serious attempts to un-Ashmead her Ashmead.
+
+
+A month had now passed, and that was a little more than half the dreary
+time she had to wade through. She began to count the days, and that made
+her pine all the more. Time is like a kettle. Be blind to him, he flies;
+watch him, he lags. Her sweet temper was a little affected, and she even
+reproached Ashmead for holding her out false hopes that his
+advertisements of her gains would induce Severne to come to her, or even
+write. “No,” said she; “there must be some greater attraction. Karl says
+that Miss Vizard, who called upon me, was a beauty, and dark. Perhaps she
+was the lovely girl I saw at the opera. She has never been there since:
+and he is gone to England with people of that name.”
+
+“Well, but that Miss Vizard called on you. She can't intend to steal him
+from you.”
+
+“But she may not know; a woman may injure another without intending. He
+may deceive her; he has betrayed me. Her extraordinary beauty terrifies
+me. It enchanted me; and how much more a man?”
+
+Joseph said he thought this was all fancy; and as for his advertisements,
+it was too early yet to pronounce on their effect.
+
+The very day after this conversation he bounced into her room in great
+dudgeon. “There, madam! the advertisements _have_ produced an effect; and
+not a pleasant one. Here's a detective on to us. He is feeling his way
+with Karl. I knew the man in a moment; calls himself Poikilus in print,
+and Smith to talk to; but he is Aaron at the bottom of it all, and can
+speak several languages. Confound their impudence! putting a detective on
+to _us,_ when it is they that are keeping dark.”
+
+“Who do you think has sent him?” asked Ina, intently.
+
+“The party interested, I suppose.”
+
+“Interested in what?”
+
+“Why, in the money you won; for he was drawing Karl about that.”
+
+“Then _he_ sent the man!” And Ina began to pant and change color.
+
+“Well, now you put it to me, I think so. Come to look at it, it is
+certain. Who else _could_ it be? Here is a brace of sweeps. They wouldn't
+be the worse for a good kicking. You say the word, and Smith shall have
+one, at all events.”
+
+“Alas! my friend,” said Ina, “for once you are slow. What! a messenger
+comes here direct from _him;_ and are we so dull we can learn nothing
+from him who comes to question us? Let me think.”
+
+She leaned her forehead on her white hand, and her face seemed slowly to
+fill with intellectual power.
+
+“That man,” said she at last, “is the only link between him and me. I
+must speak to him.”
+
+Then she thought again.
+
+“No, not yet. He must be detained in the house. Letters may come to him,
+and their postmarks may give us some clew.”
+
+“I'll recommend the house to him.”
+
+“Oh, that is not necessary. He will lodge here of his own accord. Does he
+know you?”
+
+“I think not.”
+
+“Do not give him the least suspicion that you know he is a detective.”
+
+“All right, I won't.”
+
+“If he sounds you about the money, say nobody knows much about it, except
+Mademoiselle Klosking. If you can get the matter so far, come and tell
+me. But be _you_ very reserved, for you are not clear.”
+
+Ashmead received these instructions meekly, and went into the _salle 'a
+manger_ and ordered dinner. Smith was there, and had evidently got some
+information from Karl, for he opened an easy conversation with Ashmead,
+and it ended in their dining together.
+
+Smith played the open-handed country man to the life--stood champagne.
+Ashmead chattered, and seemed quite off his guard. Smith approached the
+subject cautiously. “Gamble here as much as ever?”
+
+“All day, some of them.”
+
+“Ladies and all?”
+
+“Why, the ladies are the worst.”
+
+ “No; are they now? Ah, that reminds me. I heard there was a lady in this
+very house won a pot o' money.”
+
+“It is true. I am her agent.”
+
+“I suppose she lost it all next day?”
+
+“Well, not all, for she gave a thousand pounds to the poor.”
+
+“The dressmakers collared the rest?”
+
+“I cannot say. I have nothing to do except with her theatrical business.
+She will make more by that than she ever made at play.”
+
+“What, is she tip-top?”
+
+“The most rising singer in Europe.”
+
+“I should like to see her.”
+
+“That you can easily do. She sings tonight. I'll pass you in.”
+
+“You are a good fellow. Have a bit of supper with me afterward. Bottle of
+fizz.”
+
+These two might be compared to a couple of spiders, each taking the other
+for a fly. Smith was enchanted with Ina's singing, or pretended. Ashmead
+was delighted with him, or pretended.
+
+“Introduce me to her,” said Smith.
+
+“I dare not do that. You are not professional, are you?”
+
+“No, but you can say I am, for a lark.”
+
+Ashmead said he should like to; but it would not do, unless he was very
+wary.
+
+“Oh, I'm fly,” said the other. “She won't get anything out of me. I've
+been behind the scenes often enough.”
+
+Then Ashmead said he would go and ask her if he might present a London
+manager to her.
+
+He soon brought back the answer. “She is too tired to-night: but I
+pressed her, and she says she will be charmed if you will breakfast with
+her to-morrow at eleven.” He did not say that he was to be with her at
+half-past ten for special instructions. They were very simple. “My
+friend,” said she, “I mean to tell this man something which he will think
+it his duty to telegraph or write to _him_ immediately. It was for this I
+would not have the man to supper, being after post-time. This morning he
+shall either write or telegraph, and then, if you are as clever in this
+as you are in some things, you will watch him, and find out the address
+he sends to.”
+
+Ashmead listened very attentively, and fell into a brown study.
+
+“Madam,” said he at last, “this is a first-rate combination. You make him
+communicate with England, and I will do the rest. If he telegraphs, I'll
+be at his heels. If he goes to the post, I know a way. If he posts in the
+house, he makes it too easy.”
+
+At eleven Ashmead introduced his friend “Sharpus, manager of Drury Lane
+Theater,” and watched the fencing match with some anxiety, Ina being
+little versed in guile. But she had tact and self-possession; and she was
+not an angel, after all, but a woman whose wits were sharpened by love
+and suffering.
+
+Sharpus, alias Smith, played his assumed character to perfection. He gave
+the Klosking many incidents of business and professional anecdotes, and
+was excellent company. The Klosking was gracious, and more _bonne enfant_
+than Ashmead had ever seen her. It was a fine match between her and the
+detective. At last he made his approaches.
+
+“And I hear we are to congratulate you on success at _rouge et noir_ as
+well as opera. Is it true that you broke the bank?”
+
+“Perfectly,” was the frank reply.
+
+“And won a million?”
+
+“More or less,” said the Klosking, with an open smile.
+
+“I hope it was a good lump, for our countrymen leave hundreds of
+thousands here every season.”
+
+“It was four thousand nine hundred pounds, sir.”
+
+“Phew! Well, I wish it had been double. You are not so close as our
+friend here, madam.”
+
+“No, sir; and shall I tell you why?”
+
+“If you like, madam,” said Smith, with assumed indifference.
+
+“Mr. Ashmead is a model agent; he never allows himself to see anybody's
+interests but mine. Now the truth is, another person has an interest in
+my famous winnings. A gentleman handed 25 pounds to Mr. Ashmead to play
+with. He did not do so; but I came in and joined 25 pounds  of my own to
+that 25 pounds, and won an enormous sum. Of course, if the gentleman
+chooses to be chivalrous and abandon his claim, he can; but that is not
+the way of the world, you know. I feel sure he will come to me for his
+share some day; and the sooner the better, for money burns the pocket.”
+
+Sharpus, alias Smith, said this was really a curious story. “Now
+suppose,” said he, “some fine day a letter was to come asking you to
+remit that gentleman his half, what should you do?”
+
+“I should decline; it might be an _escroc._ No. Mr. Ashmead here knows
+the gentleman. Do you not?”
+
+“I'll swear to him anywhere.”
+
+“Then to receive his money he must face the eye of Ashmead. Ha! ha!”
+
+The detective turned the conversation, and never came back to the
+subject; but shortly he pleaded an engagement, and took his leave.
+
+Ashmead lingered behind, but Ina hurried him off, with an emphatic
+command not to leave this man out of his sight a moment.
+
+He violated this order, for in five minutes he ran back to tell her, in
+an agitated whisper, that Smith was, at that moment, writing a letter in
+the _salle 'a manger._
+
+“Oh, pray don't come here!” cried Ina, in despair. “Do not lose sight of
+him for a moment.”
+
+“Give me that letter to post, then,” said Ashmead, and snatched one up
+Ina had directed overnight.
+
+He went to the hotel door, and lighted a cigar; out came Smith with a
+letter in his very hand. Ashmead peered with all his eyes; but Smith held
+the letter vertically in his hand and the address inward. The letter was
+sealed.
+
+Ashmead watched him, and saw he was going to the General Post. He knew a
+shorter cut, ran, and took it, and lay in wait. As Smith approached the
+box, letter in hand, he bustled up in a furious hurry, and posted his own
+letter so as to stop Smith's hand at the very aperture before he could
+insert his letter. He saw, apologized, and drew back. Smith laughed, and
+said, “All right, old man. That is to your sweetheart, or you wouldn't be
+in such a hurry.”
+
+“No; it was to my grandmother,” said Ashmead.
+
+“Go on,” said Smith, and poked the ribs of Joseph. They went home
+jocular; but the detective was no sooner out of the way than Ashmead
+stole up to Ina Klosking, and put his finger to his lips; for Karl was
+clearing away, and in no hurry.
+
+They sat on tenter-hooks and thought he never would go. He did go at
+last, and then the Klosking and Ashmead came together like two magnets.
+
+“Well?”
+
+“All right! Letter to post. Saw address quite plain--Edward Severne,
+Esq.”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Vizard Court.”
+
+“Ah!”
+
+“Taddington--Barfordshire--England.”
+
+Ina, who was standing all on fire, now sat down and interlaced her hands.
+“Vizard!” said she, gloomily.
+
+“Yes; Vizard Court,” said Ashmead, triumphantly; “that means he is a
+large landed proprietor, and you will easily find him if he is there in a
+month.”
+
+“He will be there,” said Ina. “She is very beautiful. She is dark, too,
+and he loves change. Oh, if to all I have suffered he adds _that_--”
+
+“Then you will forgive him _that,”_ said Ashmead, shaking his head.
+
+“Never. Look at me, Joseph Ashmead.”
+
+He looked at her with some awe, for she seemed transformed, and her
+Danish eye gleamed strangely.
+
+“You who have seen my torments and my fidelity, mark what I say: If he is
+false to me with another woman, I shall kill him--or else I shall hate
+him.”
+
+
+She took her desk and wrote, at Ashmead's dictation,
+
+“Vizard Court, Taddington, Barfordshire.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+THE next morning Vizard carried Lord Uxmoor away to a magistrates'
+meeting, and left the road clear to Severne; but Zoe gave him no
+opportunity until just before luncheon, and then she put on her bonnet
+and came downstairs; but Fanny was with her.
+
+Severne, who was seated patiently in his bedroom with the door ajar, came
+out to join them, feeling sure Fanny would openly side with him, or slip
+away and give him his opportunity.
+
+But, as the young ladies stood on the broad flight of steps at the hall
+door, an antique figure drew nigh--an old lady, the shape of an egg, so
+short and stout was she. On her head she wore a black silk bonnet
+constructed many years ago, with a droll design, viz., to keep off sun,
+rain, and wind; it was like an iron coal scuttle, slightly shortened; yet
+have I seen some very pretty faces very prettily framed in such a bonnet.
+She had an old black silk gown that only reached to her ankle, and over
+it a scarlet cloak of superfine cloth, fine as any colonel or queen's
+outrider ever wore, and looking splendid, though she had used it forty
+years, at odd times. This dame had escaped the village ill, rheumatics,
+and could toddle along without a staff at a great, and indeed a fearful,
+pace; for, owing to her build, she yawed so from side to side at every
+step that, to them who knew her not, a capsize appeared inevitable.
+
+“Mrs. Judge, I declare,” cried Zoe.
+
+“Ay, Miss Hannah Judge it is. Your sarvant, ma'am;” and she dropped two
+courtesies, one for each lady.
+
+Mrs. Judge was Harrington's old nurse. Zoe often paid a visit to her
+cottage, but she never came to Vizard Court except on Harrington's
+birthday, when the servants entertained all the old pensioners and
+retainers at supper. Her sudden appearance, therefore, and in gala
+costume, astonished Zoe. Probably her face betrayed this, for the old
+lady began, “You wonder to see me here, now, doan't ye?”
+
+“Well, Mrs. Judge,” said Zoe, diplomatically, “nobody has a better right
+to come.”
+
+“You be very good, miss. I don't doubt my welcome nohow.”
+
+“But,” said Zoe, playfully, “you seldom do us the honor; so I _am_ a
+little surprised. What can I do for you?”
+
+“You does enough for me, miss, you and young squire. I bain't come to ask
+no favors. I ain't one o' that sort. I'll tell ye why I be come. 'Tis to
+warn you all up here.”
+
+“This is alarming,” said Zoe to Fanny.
+
+“That is as may be,” said Mrs. Judge; “forwarned, forearmed, the by-word
+sayeth. There is a young 'oman a-prowling about this here parish as don't
+belong to _hus.”_
+
+“La,” said Fanny, “mustn't we visit your parish if we were not born
+there?”
+
+“Don't you take me up before I be down, miss,” said the old nurse, a
+little severely. “'Tain't for the likes of you I speak, which you are a
+lady, and visits the Court by permission of squire; but what I objects to
+is--hinterlopers.” She paused to see the effect of so big a word, and
+then resumed, graciously, “You see, most of our hills comes from that
+there Hillstoke. If there's a poacher, or a thief, he is Hillstoke; they
+harbors the gypsies as ravage the whole country, mostly; and now they
+have let loose this here young 'oman on to us. She is a POLL PRY: goes
+about the town a-sarching: pries into their housen and their vittels, and
+their very beds. Old Marks have got a muck-heap at his door for his
+garden, ye know. Well, miss, she sticks her parasole into this here, and
+turns it about, as if she was agoing to spread it: says she, 'I must know
+the de-com-po-si-tion of this 'ere, as you keeps under the noses of your
+young folk.' Well, I seed her agoing her rounds, and the folk had told me
+her ways; so I did set me down to my knitting and wait for her, and when
+she came to me I offered her a seat; so she sat down, and says she 'This
+is the one clean house in the village,' says she: 'you might eat your
+dinner off the floor, let alone the chairs and tables.' 'You are very
+good, miss,' says I. Says she, 'I wonder whether upstairs is as nice as
+this?' 'Well,' says I, 'them as keep it downstairs keeps it hup; I don't
+drop cleanliness on the stairs, you may be sure.' 'I suppose not,' says
+she, 'but I should like to see.' That was what I was a-waiting for, you
+know, so I said to her, 'Curiosity do breed curiosity,' says I. 'Afore
+you sarches this here house from top to bottom I should like to see the
+warrant.' 'What warrant?' says she. 'I've no warrant. Don't take me for
+an enemy,' says she. 'I'm your best friend,' says she. 'I'm the new
+doctor.' I told her I had heard a whisper of that too; but we had got a
+parish doctor already, and one was enough. 'Not when he never comes anigh
+you,' says she, 'and lets you go half way to meet your diseases.' 'I
+don't know for that,' says I, and indeed I haan't a notion what she
+meant, for my part; but says I, 'I don't want no women folk to come here
+a-doctoring o' me, that's sartin.' So she said, 'But suppose you were
+very ill, and the he-doctor three miles off, and fifty others to visit
+afore you?' 'That is no odds,' says I; 'I would not be doctored by a
+woman.' Then she says to me, says she, 'Now you look me in the face.' 'I
+can do that,' says I; 'you, or anybody else. I'm an honest woman, _I_
+am;' so I up and looked her in the face as bold as brass. 'Then,' says
+she, 'am I to understand that, if you was to be ill to-morrow, you would
+rather die than be doctored by a woman?' She thought to daant me, you
+see, so I says, 'Well, I don't know as I oodn't.' You do laugh, miss.
+Well, that is what she did. 'All right,' says she. 'Make haste and die,
+my good soul,' says she, 'for, while you live, you'll be a hobelisk to
+reform.' So she went off, but I made to the door, and called after her I
+should die when God pleased, and I had seen a good many young folk laid
+out, that looked as like to make old bones as ever she
+does--chalk-faced--skinny---to-a-d! And I called after her she was no
+lady. No more she ain't, to come into my own house and call a decent
+woman 'a hobelisk!' Oh! oh! Which I never _was,_ not even in my giddy
+days, but did work hard in my youth, and am respect for my old age.”
+
+“Yes, nurse, yes; who doubts it?”
+
+“And nursed young squire, and, Lord bless your heart, a was a poor puny
+child when I took him to my breast, and in six months the finest,
+chubbiest boy in all the parish; and his dry-nurse for years arter, and
+always at his heels a-keeping him out of the stable and the ponds, and
+consorting with the village boys; and a proper resolute child he was, and
+hard to manage: and my own man that is gone, and my son 'that's not so
+clever as some,' * I always done justice by them both, and arter all to be
+called a hobelisk--oh! oh! oh!”
+
+     * Paraphrase for the noun substantive “idiot.” It is also a
+     specimen of the Greek figure “litotes.”
+
+Then behold the gentle Zoe with her arm round nurse's neck, and her
+handkerchief to nurse's eyes, murmuring, “There--there--don't cry, nurse;
+everybody esteems you, and that lady did not mean to affront you; she did
+not say 'obelisk;' she said 'obstacle.' That only means that you stand in
+the way of her improvements; there was not much harm in that, you know.
+And, nurse, please give that lady her way, to oblige me; for it is by my
+brother's invitation she is here.”
+
+“Ye doan't say so! What, does he hold with female she-doctoresses?”
+
+“He wishes to _try_ one. She has his authority.”
+
+“Ye doan't say so!”
+
+“Indeed I do.”
+
+“Con--sarn the wench! why couldn't she says so, 'stead o' hargefying?”
+
+“She is a stranger, and means well; so she did not think it necessary.
+You must take my word for it.”
+
+“La, miss, I'll take your'n before hers, you _may_ be sure,” said Mrs.
+Judge, with a decided remnant of hostility.
+
+And now a proverbial incident happened. Miss Rhoda Gale came in sight,
+and walked rapidly into the group.
+
+After greeting the ladies, and ignoring Severne, who took off his hat to
+her, with deep respect, in the background, she turned to Mrs. Judge.
+“Well, old lady,” said she cheerfully, “and how do you do?”
+
+Mrs. Judge replied, in fawning accents, “Thank you, miss, I be well
+enough to get about. I was a-telling 'em about you--and, to be sure, it
+is uncommon good of a lady like you to trouble so much about poor folk.”
+
+“Don't mention it; it is my duty and my inclination. You see, my good
+woman, it is not so easy to cure diseases as people think; therefore it
+is a part of medicine to prevent them: and to prevent them you must
+remove the predisposing causes, and to find out all those causes you must
+have eyes, and use them.”
+
+“You are right, miss,” said La Judge, obsequiously. “Prevention is better
+nor cure, and they say 'a stitch in time saves nine.'”
+
+“That is capital good sense, Mrs. Judge; and pray tell the villagers
+that, and make them as full of 'the wisdom of nations' as you seem to be,
+and their houses as clean--if you can.”
+
+“I'll do my best, miss,” said Mrs. Judge, obsequiously; “it is the least
+we can all do for a young lady like you that leaves the pomps and
+vanities, and gives her mind to bettering the condishing of poor folk.”
+
+Having once taken this cue and entered upon a vein of flattery, she would
+have been extremely voluble--for villages can vie with cities in
+adulation as well as in detraction--but she was interrupted by a footman
+announcing luncheon.
+
+Zoe handed Mrs. Judge over to the man with a request that he would be
+kind to her, and have her to dine with the servants.
+
+Yellowplush saw the gentlefolks away, and then, parting his legs, and
+putting his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets, delivered himself thus:
+“Well, old girl, am I to give you my harm round to the kitchen, or do you
+know the way by yourself?”
+
+“Young chap,” said Mrs. Judge, and turned a glittering eye, “I did know
+the way afore you was born, and I should know it all one if so be you was
+to be hung, or sent to Botany Bay--to larn manners.”
+
+Having delivered this shot, she rolled away in the direction of Roast
+Beef.
+
+The little party had hardly settled at the table when they were joined by
+Vizard and Uxmoor: both gentlemen welcomed Miss Gale more heartily than
+the ladies had done, and before luncheon ended Vizard asked her if her
+report was ready. She said it was.
+
+“Have you got it with you?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Then please hand it to me.”
+
+“Oh! it is in my head. I don't write much down; that weakens the memory.
+If you would give me half an hour after luncheon--” She hesitated a
+little.
+
+Zoe jealoused a _te'te-'a-te'te,_ and parried it skillfully. “Oh,” said
+she, “but we are all much interested: are not you, Lord Uxmoor?”
+
+“Indeed I am,” said Uxmoor.
+
+“So am I,” said Fanny, who didn't care a button.
+
+“Yes, but,” said Rhoda, “truths are not always agreeable, and there are
+some that I don't like--” She hesitated again, and this time actually
+blushed a little.
+
+The acute Mr. Severne, who had been watching her slyly, came to her
+assistance.
+
+“Look here, old fellow,” said he to Vizard, “don't you see that Miss Gale
+has discovered some spots in your paradise? but, out of delicacy, does
+not want to publish them, but to confide them to your own ear. Then you
+can mend them or not.”
+
+Miss Gale turned her eyes full on Severne. “You are very keen at reading
+people, sir,” said she, dryly.
+
+“Of course he is,” said Vizard. “He has given great attention to your
+sex. Well, if that is all, Miss Gale, pray speak out and gratify their
+curiosity. You and I shall never quarrel over the truth.”
+
+“I'm not so sure of that,” said Miss Gale. “However, I suppose I must
+risk it. I never do get my own way; that's a fact.”
+
+After this little ebullition of spleen, she opened her budget. “First of
+all, I find that these villages all belong to one person; so does the
+soil. Nobody can build cottages on a better model, nor make any other
+improvement. You are an absolute monarch. This is a piece of Russia, not
+England. They are all serfs, and you are the czar.”
+
+“It is true,” said Vizard, “and it sounds horrid, but it works benignly.
+Every snob who can grind the poor does grind them; but a gentleman never,
+and he hinders others. Now, for instance, an English farmer is generally
+a tyrant; but my power limits his tyranny. He may discharge his laborer,
+but he can't drive him out of the village, nor rob him of parish relief,
+for poor Hodge is _my_ tenant, not a snob's. Nobody can build a beershop
+in Islip. That is true. But if they could, they would sell bad beer, give
+credit in the ardor of competition, poison the villagers, and demoralize
+them. Believe me, republican institutions are beautiful on paper; but
+they would not work well in Barfordshire villages. However, you profess
+to go by experience in everything. There are open villages within five
+miles. I'll give you a list. Visit them. You will find that liberty can
+be the father of tyranny. Petty tradesmen have come in and built
+cottages, and ground the poor down with rents unknown in Islip; farmers
+have built cottages, and turned their laborers into slaves. Drunkenness,
+dissipation, poverty, disaffection, and misery--that is what you will
+find in the open villages. Now, in Islip you have an omnipotent squire,
+and that is an abomination in theory, a mediaeval monster, a blot on
+modern civilization; but practically the poor monster is a softener of
+poverty, an incarnate buffer between the poor and tyranny, the poor and
+misery.”
+
+“I'll inspect the open villages, and suspend my opinion till then,” said
+Miss Gale, heartily; “but, in the meantime, you must admit that where
+there is great power there is great responsibility.”
+
+“Oh, of course.”
+
+“Well, then, your little outlying province of Hillstoke is full of
+rheumatic adults and putty-faced children. The two phenomena arise from
+one cause--the water. No lime in it, and too many reptiles. It was the
+children gave me the clew. I suspected the cherry stones at first: but
+when I came to look into it, I found they eat just as many cherry stones
+in the valley, and are as rosy as apples; but, then, there is well water
+in the valleys. So I put this and that together, and I examined the water
+they drink at Hillstoke. Sir, it is full of animalcula. Some of these
+cannot withstand the heat of the human stomach; but others can, for I
+tried them in mud artificially heated. [A giggle from Fanny Dover.]
+Thanks to your microscope, I have made sketches of several amphibia who
+live in those boys' stomachs, and irritate their membranes, and share
+their scanty nourishment, besides other injuries.” Thereupon she produced
+some drawings.
+
+They were handed round, and struck terror in gentle bosoms. “Oh,
+gracious!” cried Fanny, “one ought to drink nothing but champagne.”
+ Uxmoor looked grave. Vizard affected to doubt their authenticity. He
+said, “You may not know it, but I am a zoologist, and these are
+antediluvian eccentricities that have long ceased to embellish the world
+we live in. Fie! Miss Gale. Down with anachronisms.”
+
+Miss Gale smiled, and admitted that one or two of the prodigies resembled
+antediluvian monsters, but said oracularly that nature was fond of
+producing the same thing on a large scale and a small scale, and it was
+quite possible the small type of antediluvian monster might have survived
+the large.
+
+“That is most ingenious,” said Vizard; “but it does not account for this
+fellow. He is not an antediluvian; he is a barefaced modern, for he is A
+STEAM ENGINE.”
+
+This caused a laugh, for the creature had a perpendicular neck, like a
+funnel, that rose out of a body like a horizontal cylinder.
+
+“At any rate,” said Miss Gale, “the little monster was in the world
+first; so he is not an imitation of man's work.”
+
+“Well,” said Vizard, “after all, we have had enough of the monsters of
+the deep. Now we can vary the monotony, and say the monsters of the
+shallow. But I don't see how they can cause rheumatism.”
+
+“I never said they did,” retorted Miss Gale, sharply: “but the water
+which contains them is soft water. There is no lime in it, and that is
+bad for the bones in every way. Only the children drink it as it is: the
+wives boil it, and so drink soft water and dead reptiles in their tea.
+The men instinctively avoid it and drink nothing but beer. Thus, for want
+of a pure diluent with lime in solution, an acid is created in the blood
+which produces gout in the rich, and rheumatism in the poor, thanks to
+their meager food and exposure to the weather.”
+
+“Poor things!” said womanly Zoe. “What is to be done?”
+
+“La!” said Fanny, “throw lime into the ponds. That will kill the
+monsters, and cure the old people's bones into the bargain.”
+
+This compendious scheme struck the imagination, but did not satisfy the
+judgment of the assembly.
+
+“Fanny!” said Zoe, reproachfully.
+
+“That _would_ be killing two birds with one stone,” suggested Uxmoor,
+satirically.
+
+“The tender mercies of the wicked are cruel,” explained Vizard,
+composedly.
+
+Zoe reiterated her question, What was to be done?
+
+Miss Gale turned to her with a smile. _“We_ have got nothing to do but to
+point out these abominations. The person to act is the Russian autocrat,
+the paternal dictator, the monarch of all he surveys, and advocate of
+monarchial institutions. He is the buffer between the poor and all their
+ills, especially poison: he must dig a well.”
+
+Every eye being turned on Vizard to see how he took this, he said, a
+little satirically, “What! does Science bid me bore for water at the top
+of a hill?”
+
+“She does _so,”_ said the virago. “Now look here, good people.”
+
+And although they were not all good people, yet they all did look there,
+she shone so with intelligence, being now quite on her mettle.
+
+“Half-civilized man makes blunders that both the savage and the civilized
+avoid. The savage builds his hut by a running stream. The civilized man
+draws good water to his door, though he must lay down pipes from a
+highland lake to a lowland city. It is only half-civilized man that
+builds a village on a hill, and drinks worms, and snakes, and efts, and
+antediluvian monsters in limeless water. Then I say, if great but half
+civilized monarchs would consult Science _before_ they built their serf
+huts, Science would say, 'Don't you go and put down human habitations far
+from pure water--the universal diluent, the only cheap diluent, and the
+only liquid which does not require digestion, and therefore must always
+assist, and never chemically resist, the digestion of solids.' But when
+the mischief is done, and the cottages are built on a hill three miles
+from water, then all that Science can do is to show the remedy, and the
+remedy is--boring.”
+
+“Then the remedy is like the discussion,” said Fanny Dover, very pertly.
+
+Zoe was amused, but shocked. Miss Gale turned her head on the offender as
+sharp as a bird. “Of course it is, to _children,”_ said she; “and that is
+why I wished to confine it to mature minds. It is to you I speak, sir.
+Are your subjects to drink poison, or will you bore me a well?--Oh,
+please!”
+
+“Do you hear that?” said Vizard, piteously, to Uxmoor. “Threatened and
+cajoled in one breath. Who can resist this fatal sex?--Miss Gale, I will
+bore a well on Hillstoke common. Any idea how deep we must go--to the
+antipodes, or only to the center?”
+
+“Three hundred and thirty feet, or thereabouts.”
+
+“No more? Any idea what it will cost?”
+
+“Of course I have. The well, the double windlass, the iron chain, the two
+buckets, a cupola over the well, and twenty-three keys--one for every
+head of a house in the hamlet--will cost you about 315 pounds.”
+
+“Why, this is Detail made woman. How do you know all this?”
+
+“From Tom Wilder.”
+
+“Who is he?”
+
+“What, don't you know? He is the eldest son of the Islip blacksmith, and
+a man that will make his mark. He casts every Thursday night. He is the
+only village blacksmith in all the county who _casts._ You know that, I
+suppose.”
+
+“No, I had not the honor.”
+
+“Well, he is, then: and I thought you would consent, because you are so
+good: and so I thought there could be no harm in sounding Tom Wilder. He
+offers to take the whole contract, if squire's agreeable; bore the well;
+brick it fifty yards down: he says that ought to be done, if she is to
+have justice. 'She' is the well: and he will also construct the gear; he
+says there must be two iron chains and two buckets going together; so
+then the empty bucket descending will help the man or woman at the
+windlass to draw the full bucket up. 315 pounds: one week's income, your
+Majesty.”
+
+“She has inspected our rent-roll, now,” said Vizard, pathetically: “and
+knows nothing about the matter.”
+
+“Except that it is a mere flea-bite to you to bore through a hill for
+water. For all that, I hope you will leave me to battle it with Tom
+Wilder. Then you won't be cheated, for once. _You always are,_ and it is
+abominable. It would have been five hundred if you had opened the
+business.”
+
+“I am sure that is true,” said Zoe. She added this would please Mrs.
+Judge: she was full of the superiority of Islip to Hillstoke.
+
+“Stop a bit,” said Vizard. “Miss Gale has not reported on Islip yet.”
+
+“No, dear; but she has looked into everything, for Mrs. Judge told me.
+You have been into the cottages?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Into Marks's?”
+
+“Yes, I have been into Marks's.”
+
+She did not seem inclined to be very communicative; so Fanny, out of
+mischief, said, pertly, “And what did you see there, with your Argus
+eye?”
+
+“I saw--three generations.”
+
+“Ha! ha! La! did you now? And what were they all doing?”
+
+“They were all living together, night and day, in one room.”
+
+This conveyed no very distinct idea to the ladies; but Vizard, for the
+first time, turned red at this revelation before Uxmoor, improver of
+cottage life. “Confound the brutes!” said he. “Why, I built them a new
+room; a larger one: didn't you see it?”
+
+“Yes. They stack their potatoes in it.”
+
+“Just like my people,” said Uxmoor. “That is the worst of it: they resist
+their own improvement.”
+
+“Yes, but,” said the doctress, “with monarchial power we can trample on
+them for their good. Outside Marks's door at the back there is a
+muck-heap, as he calls it; all the refuse of the house is thrown there;
+it is a horrible melange of organic matter and decaying vegetables, a
+hot-bed of fever and malaria. Suffocated and poisoned with the breath of
+a dozen persons, they open the window for fresh air, and in rushes
+typhoid from the stronghold its victims have built. Two children were
+buried from that house last year. They were both killed by the domestic
+arrangements as certainly as if they had been shot with a double-barreled
+pistol. The outside roses you admire so are as delusive as flattery;
+their sweetness covers a foul, unwholesome den.”
+
+“Marks's cottage! The show place of the village!” Zoe Vizard flushed with
+indignation at the bold hand of truth so rudely applied to a pleasant and
+cherished illusion.
+
+Vizard, more candid and open to new truths, shrugged his shoulders, and
+said, “What can I do more than I have done?”
+
+“Oh, it is not your fault,” said the doctress, graciously. “It is theirs.
+Only, as you are their superior in intelligence and power, you might do
+something to put down indecency, immorality, and disease.”
+
+“May I ask what?”
+
+“Well, you might build a granary for the poor people's potatoes. No room
+can keep them dry; but you build your granary upon four pillars: then
+that is like a room over a cellar.”
+
+“Well, I'll build it so--if I build it at all,” said Vizard, dryly. “What
+next?”
+
+“Then you could make them stack their potatoes in the granary, and use
+the spare room, and so divide their families, and give morality a chance.
+The muck-heap you should disperse at once with the strong hand of power.”
+
+At this last proposal, Squire Vizard--the truth must be told--delivered a
+long, plowman's whistle at the head of his own table.
+
+“Pheugh!” said he; “for a lady that is more than half republican, you
+seem to be taking very kindly to monarchial tyranny.”
+
+“Well, now, I'll tell you the truth,” said she. “You have converted me.
+Ever since you promised me the well, I have discovered that the best form
+of government is a good-hearted tyrant.”
+
+“With a female viceroy over him, eh?”
+
+“Only in these little domestic matters,” said Rhoda, deprecatingly.
+“Women are good advisers in such things. The male physician relies on
+drugs. Medical women are wanted to moderate that delusion; to prevent
+disease by domestic vigilance, and cure it by selected esculents and pure
+air. These will cure fifty for one that medicine can; besides drugs kill
+ever so many: these never killed a creature. You will give me the
+granary, won't you? Oh, and there's a black pond in the center of the
+village. Your tenant Pickett, who is a fool--begging his pardon--lets all
+his liquid manure run out of his yard into the village till it
+accumulates in a pond right opposite the five cottages they call New
+Town, and its exhalations taint the air. There are as many fevers in
+Islip as in the back slums of a town. You might fill the pond up with
+chalk, and compel Pickett to sink a tank in his yard, and cover it; then
+an agricultural treasure would be preserved for its proper use, instead
+of being perverted into a source of infection.”
+
+Vizard listened civilly, and, as she stopped, requested her to go on.
+
+“I think we have had enough,” said Zoe, bitterly.
+
+Rhoda, who was in love with Zoe, hung her head, and said, “Yes; I have
+been very bold.”
+
+“Fiddlestick!” said Vizard. “Never mind those girls. _You_ speak out like
+a man: a stranger's eye always discovers things that escape the natives.
+Proceed.”
+
+“No; I won't proceed till I have explained to Miss Vizard.”
+
+“You may spare yourself the trouble. Miss Vizard thought Islip was a
+paradise. You have dispelled the illusion, and she will never forgive
+you. Miss Dover will; because she is like Gallio--she careth for none of
+these things.”
+
+“Not a pin,” said Fanny, with admirable frankness.
+
+“Well, but,” said Rhoda, naively, “I can't bear Miss Vizard to be angry
+with me; I admire her so. Please let me explain. Islip is no
+paradise--quite the reverse; but the faults of Islip are not _your_
+faults. The children are ignorant; but you pay for a school. The people
+are poor from insufficient wages; but you are not paymaster. _Your_
+gardeners, _your_ hinds, and all your outdoor people have enough. You
+give them houses. You let cottages and gardens to the rest at half their
+value; and very often they don't pay that, but make excuses; and you
+accept them, though they are all stories; for they can pay everybody but
+you, and their one good bargain is with you. Miss Vizard has carried a
+basket all her life with things from your table for the poor.”
+
+Miss Vizard blushed crimson at this sudden revelation.
+
+“If a man or a woman has served your house long, there's a pension for
+life. You are easy, kind, and charitable. It is the faults of others I
+ask you to cure, because you have such power. Now, for instance, if the
+boys at Hillstoke are putty-faced, the boys at Islip have no calves to
+their legs. That is a sure sign of deteriorating species. The lower type
+of savage has next to no calf. The calf is a sign of civilization and due
+nourishment. This single phenomenon was my clew, and led me to others;
+and I have examined the mothers and the people of all ages, and I tell
+you it is a village of starvelings. Here a child begins life a
+starveling, and ends as he began. The nursing mother has not food enough
+for one, far less for two. The man's wages are insufficient, and the diet
+is not only insufficient, but injudicious. The race has declined. There
+are only five really big, strong men--Josh Grace, Will Hudson, David
+Wilder, Absalom Green, and Jack Greenaway; and they are all over
+fifty--men of another generation. I have questioned these men how they
+were bred, and they all say milk was common when they were boys. Many
+poor people kept a cow; squire doled it; the farmers gave it or sold it
+cheap; but nowadays it is scarcely to be had. Now, that is not your
+fault, but you are the man who can mend it. New milk is meat and drink
+especially to young and growing people. You have a large meadow at the
+back of the village. If you could be persuaded to start four or five
+cows, and let somebody sell the new milk to the poor at cost price--say,
+five farthings the quart. You must not give it, or they will water their
+muckheaps with it. With those cows alone you will get rid, in the next
+generation, of the half-grown, slouching men, the hollow-eyed,
+narrow-chested, round-backed women, and the calfless boys one sees all
+over Islip, and restore the stalwart race that filled the little village
+under your sires and have left proofs of their wholesome food on the
+tombstones: for I have read every inscription, and far more people
+reached eighty-five between 1750 and 1800 than between 1820 and 1870. Ah,
+how I envy you to be able to do such great things so easily! Water to
+poisoned Hillstoke with one hand; milk to starved Islip with the other.
+This is to be indeed a king!”
+
+The enthusiast rose from the table in her excitement, and her face was
+transfigured; she looked beautiful for the moment.
+
+“I'll do it,” shouted Vizard; “and you are a trump.”
+
+Miss Gale sat down, and the color left her cheek entirely.
+
+Fanny Dover, who had a very quick eye for passing events, cried out, “Oh
+dear! she is going to faint _now.”_ The tone implied, what a plague she
+is!
+
+Thereupon Severne rushed to her, and was going to sprinkle her face; but
+she faltered, “No! no! a glass of wine.” He gave her one with all the
+hurry and empressement in the world. She fixed him with a strange look as
+she took it from him: she sipped it; one tear ran into it. She said she
+had excited herself; but she was all right now. Elastic Rhoda!
+
+“I am very glad of it,” said Vizard. “You are quite strong enough without
+fainting. For Heaven's sake, don't add woman's weakness to your
+artillery, or you will be irresistible; and I shall have to divide Vizard
+Court among the villagers. At present I get off cheap, and Science on the
+Rampage: let me see--only a granary, a well, and six cows.”
+
+“They'll give as much milk as twelve cows without the well,” said Fanny.
+It was her day for wit.
+
+This time she was rewarded with a general laugh.
+
+It subsided, as such things will, and then Vizard said, solemnly, “New
+ideas are suggested to me by this charming interview; and permit me to
+give them a form, which will doubtless be new to these accomplished
+ladies:
+
+“'Gin there's a hole in a' your coats, I rede ye tent it; A chiel's amang
+ye takin' notes, And, faith, he'll prent it.'”
+
+Zoe looked puzzled, and Fanny inquired what language that was.
+
+“Very good language.”
+
+“Then perhaps you will translate it into language one can understand.”
+
+“The English of the day, eh?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“You think that would improve it, do you? Well, then:
+
+'If there is a defect in any one of your habilimeats, Let me earnestly
+impress on you the expediency of repairing it; An individual is among you
+with singular powers of observation, Which will infallibly result in
+printing and publication.'
+
+Zoe, you are an affectionate sister; take this too observant lady into
+the garden, poison her with raw fruit, and bury her under a pear tree.”
+
+Zoe said she would carry out part of the programme, if Miss Gale would
+come.
+
+Then the ladies rose and rustled away, and the rivals would have
+followed, but Vizard detained them on the pretense of consulting them
+about the well; but, when the ladies had gone, he owned he had done it
+out of his hatred to the sex. He said he was sure both girls disliked his
+virago in their hearts, so he had compelled them to spend an hour
+together, without any man to soften their asperity.
+
+This malicious experiment was tolerably successful. The three ladies
+strolled together, dismal as souls in purgatory. One or two little
+attempts at conversation were made, but died out for want of sympathy.
+Then Fanny tried personalities, the natural topic of the sex in general.
+
+“Miss Gale, which do you admire most, Lord Uxmoor or Mr. Severne?”
+
+“For their looks?”
+
+“Oh, of course.”
+
+“Mr. Severne.”
+
+“You don't admire beards, then?”
+
+“That depends. Where the mouth is well shaped and expressive, the beard
+spoils it. Where it is commonplace, the beard hides its defect, and gives
+a manly character. As a general rule, I think the male bird looks well
+with his crest and feathers.”
+
+“And so do I,” said Fanny, warmly; “and yet I should not like Mr. Severne
+to have a beard. Don't you think he is very handsome?”
+
+“He is something more,” said Rhoda. “He is beautiful. If he was dressed
+as a woman, the gentlemen would all run after him. I think his is the
+most perfect oval face I ever saw.”
+
+“But you must not fall in love with him,” said Fanny.
+
+“I do not mean to,” said Rhoda. “Falling in love is not my business: and
+if it was, I should not select Mr. Severne.”
+
+“Why not, pray?” inquired Zoe haughtily. Her manner was so menacing that
+Rhoda did not like to say too much just then. She felt her way. “I am a
+physiognomist,” said she, “and I don't think he can be very truthful. He
+is old of his age, and there are premature marks under his eyes that
+reveal craft, and perhaps dissipation. These are hardly visible in the
+room, but they are in the open air, when you get the full light of day.
+To be sure, just now his face is marked with care and anxiety; that young
+man has a good deal on his mind.”
+
+Here the observer discovered that even this was a great deal too much.
+Zoe was displeased, and felt affronted by her remarks, though she did not
+condescend to notice them; so Rhoda broke off and said, “It is not fair
+of you, Miss Dover, to set me giving my opinion of people you must know
+better than I do. Oh, what a garden!” And she was off directly on a tour
+of inspection. “Come along,” said she, “and I will tell you their names
+and properties.”
+
+They could hardly keep up with her, she was so eager. The fruits did not
+interest her, but only the simples. She was downright learned in these,
+and found a surprising number. But the fact is, Mr. Lucas had a respect
+for his predecessors. What they had planted, he seldom uprooted--at
+least, he always left a specimen. Miss Gale approved his system highly,
+until she came to a row of green leaves like small horseradish, which was
+planted by the side of another row that really was horseradish.
+
+“This is too bad, even for Islip,” said Miss Gale. “Here is one of our
+deadliest poisons planted by the very side of an esculent herb, which it
+resembles. You don't happen to have hired the devil for gardener at any
+time, do you? Just fancy! any cook might come out here for horseradish,
+and gather this plant, and lay you all dead at your own table. It is the
+Aconitum of medicine, the Monk's-hood or Wolf's-bane' of our ancestors.
+Call the gardener, please, and have every bit of it pulled up by the
+roots. None of your lives are safe while poisons and esculents are
+planted together like this.”
+
+And she would not budge till Zoe directed a gardener to dig up all the
+Aconite. A couple of them went to work and soon uprooted it. The
+gardeners then asked if they should burn it.
+
+“Not for all the world,” said Miss Gale. “Make a bundle of it for me to
+take home. It is only poison in the hands of ignoramuses. It is most
+sovereign medicine. I shall make tinctures, and check many a sharp ill
+with it. Given in time, it cuts down fever wonderfully; and when you
+check the fever, you check the disease.”
+
+Soon after this Miss Gale said she had not come to stop; she was on her
+way to Taddington to buy lint and German styptics, and many things useful
+in domestic surgery. “For,” said she, “the people at Hillstoke are
+relenting; at least, they run to me with their cut fingers and black
+eyes, though they won't trust me with their sacred rheumatics. I must
+also supply myself with vermifuges till the well is dug, and so mitigate
+puerile puttiness and internal torments.”
+
+The other ladies were not sorry to get rid of an irrelevant zealot, who
+talked neither love, nor dress, nor anything that reaches the soul.
+
+So Zoe said, “What, going already?” and having paid that tax to
+politeness, returned to the house with alacrity.
+
+But the doctress would not go without her Wolf's-bane, Aconite ycleped.
+
+The irrelevant zealot being gone, the true business of the mind was
+resumed; and that is love-making, or novelists give us false pictures of
+life, and that is impossible.
+
+As the doctress drove from the front door, Lord Uxmoor emerged from the
+library--a coincidence that made both girls smile; he hoped Miss Vizard
+was not too tired to take another turn.
+
+“Oh no!” said Zoe: “are you, Fanny?”
+
+At the first step they took, Severne came round an angle of the building
+and joined them. He had watched from the balcony of his bedroom.
+
+Both men looked black at each other, and made up to Zoe. She felt
+uncomfortable, and hardly knew what to do. However, she would not seem to
+observe, and was polite, but a little stiff, to both.
+
+However, at last, Severne, having asserted his rights, as he thought,
+gave way, but not without a sufficient motive, as may be gathered from
+his first word to Fanny.
+
+“My dear friend, for Heaven's sake, what is the matter? She is angry with
+me about something. What is it? has she told you?”
+
+“Not a word. But I see she is in a fury with you; and really it is too
+ridiculous. You told a fib; that is the mighty matter, I do believe. No,
+it isn't; for you have told her a hundred, no doubt, and she liked you
+all the better; but this time you have been naughty enough to be found
+out, and she is romantic, and thinks her lover ought to be the soul of
+truth.”
+
+“Well, and so he ought,” said Ned.
+
+“He isn't, then;” and Fanny burst out laughing so loud that Zoe turned
+round and enveloped them both in one haughty glance, as the exaggerating
+Gaul would say.
+
+“La! there was a look for you!” said Fanny, pertly: “as if I cared for
+her black brows.”
+
+“I do, though: pray remember that.”
+
+“Then tell no more fibs. Such a fuss about nothing! What is a fib?” and
+she turned up her little nose very contemptuously at all such trivial
+souls as minded a little mendacity.
+
+Indeed, she disclaimed the importance of veracity so imperiously that
+Severne was betrayed into saying, “Well, not much, between you and me;
+and I'll be bound I can explain it.”
+
+“Explain it to me, then.”
+
+“Well, but I don't know--”
+
+“Which of your fibs it was.”
+
+Another silver burst of laughter. But Zoe only vouchsafed a slightly
+contemptuous movement of her shoulders.
+
+“Well, no,” said Severne, half laughing himself at the sprightly jade's
+smartness.
+
+“Well, then, that friend of yours that called at luncheon.”
+
+Severne turned grave directly. “Yes,” said he.
+
+“You said he was your lawyer, and came about a lease.”
+
+“So he did.”
+
+“And his name was Jackson.
+
+“So it was.”
+
+“This won't do. You mustn't fib to _me!_ It was Poikilus, a Secret
+Inquiry; and they all know it; now tell me, without a fib--if you
+can--what ever did you want with Poikilus?”
+
+Severne looked aghast. He faltered out, “Why, how could they know?”
+
+“Why, he advertises, stupid! and Lord Uxmoor and Harrington had seen it.
+Gentlemen _read_ advertisements. That is one of their peculiarities.”
+
+“Of course he advertises: that is not what I mean. I did not drop his
+card, did I? No; I am sure I pocketed it directly. What mischief-making
+villain told them it was Poikilus?”
+
+Fanny colored a little, but said, hastily, “Ah, that I could not tell
+you.”
+
+“The footman, perhaps?”
+
+“I should not wonder.” (What is a fib?)
+
+“Curse him!”
+
+“Oh, don't swear at the servants; that is bad taste.”
+
+“Not when he has ruined me?”
+
+“Ruined you?--nonsense! Make up some other fib, and excuse the first.”
+
+“I can't. I don't know what to do; and before my rival, too! This
+accounts for the air of triumph he has worn ever since, and her glances
+of scorn and pity. She is an angel, and I have lost her.”
+
+“Stuff and nonsense!” said Fanny Dover. “Be a man, and tell me the
+truth.”
+
+“Well, I will,” said he; “for I am in despair. It is all that cursed
+money at Homburg. I could not clear my estate without it. I dare not go
+for it. She forbade me; and indeed I can't bear to leave her for
+anything; so I employed Poikilus to try and learn whether that lady has
+the money still, and whether she means to rob me of it or not.”
+
+Fanny Dover reflected a moment, then delivered herself thus: “You were
+wrong to tell a fib about it. What you must do now--brazen it out. Tell
+her you love her, but have got your pride and will not come into her
+family a pauper. Defy her, to be sure; we like to be defied now and then,
+when we are fond of the fellow.”
+
+“I will do it,” said he; “but she shuns me. I can't get a word with her.”
+
+Fanny said she would try and manage that for him; and as the rest of
+their talk might not interest the reader, and certainly would not edify
+him, I pass on to the fact that she did, that very afternoon, go into
+Zoe's room, and tell her Severne was very unhappy: he had told a fib; but
+it was not intended to deceive her, and he wished to explain the whole
+thing.
+
+“Did he explain it to you?” asked Zoe, rather sharply.
+
+“No; but he said enough to make me think you are using him very hardly.
+To be sure, you have another string to your bow.”
+
+“Oh, that is the interpretation you put.”
+
+“It is the true one. Do you think you can make _me_ believe you would
+have shied him so long if Lord Uxmoor had not been in the house?”
+
+Zoe bridled, but made no reply, and Fanny went to her own room, laughing.
+
+Zoe was much disturbed. She secretly longed to hear Severne justify
+himself. She could not forgive a lie, nor esteem a liar. She was one of
+those who could pardon certain things in a woman she would not forgive in
+a man. Under a calm exterior, she had suffered a noble distress; but her
+pride would not let her show it. Yet now that he had appealed to her for
+a hearing, and Fanny knew he had appealed, she began to falter.
+
+Still Fanny was not altogether wrong: the presence of a man incapable of
+a falsehood, and that man devoted to her, was a little damaging to
+Severne, though not so much as Miss Artful thought.
+
+However, this very afternoon Lord Uxmoor had told her he must leave
+Vizard Court to-morrow morning.
+
+So Zoe said to herself, “I need not make opportunities; after to-morrow
+he will find plenty.”
+
+She had an instinctive fear he would tell more falsehoods to cover those
+he had told; and then she should despise him, and they would both be
+miserable; for she felt for a moment a horrible dread that she might both
+love and despise the same person, if it was Edward Severne.
+
+There were several people to dinner, and, as hostess, she managed not to
+think too much of either of her admirers.
+
+However, a stolen glance showed her they were both out of spirits.
+
+She felt sorry. Her nature was very pitiful. She asked herself was it her
+fault, and did not quite acquit herself. Perhaps she ought to have been
+more open and declared her sentiments. Yet would that have been modest in
+a lady who was not formally engaged? She was puzzled. She had no
+experience to guide her: only her high breeding and her virginal
+instincts.
+
+She was glad when the night ended.
+
+She caught herself wishing the next day was gone too.
+
+When she retired Uxmoor was already gone, and Severne opened the door to
+her. He fixed his eyes on her so imploringly, it made her heart melt; but
+she only blushed high, and went away sad and silent.
+
+As her maid was undressing her she caught sight of a letter on her table.
+“What is that?” said she.
+
+“It is a letter,” said Rosa, very demurely.
+
+Zoe divined that the girl had been asked to put it there.
+
+Her bosom heaved, but she would not encourage such proceedings, nor let
+Rosa see how eager she was to hear those very excuses she had evaded.
+
+But, for all that, Rosa knew she was going to read it, for she only had
+her gown taken off and a peignoir substituted, and her hair let down and
+brushed a little. Then she dismissed Rosa, locked the door, and pounced
+on the letter. It lay on her table with the seal uppermost. She turned it
+round. It was not from _him:_ it was from Lord Uxmoor.
+
+She sat down and read it.
+
+
+ “DEAR MISS VIZARD--I have had no opportunities of telling you all I feel
+for you, without attracting an attention that might have been unpleasant
+to you; but I am sure you must have seen that I admired you at first
+sight. That was admiration of your beauty and grace, though even then you
+showed me a gentle heart and a sympathy that made me grateful. But, now I
+have had the privilege of being under the same roof with you, it is
+admiration no longer--it is deep and ardent love; and I see that my
+happiness depends on you. Will you confide _your_ happiness to me? I
+don't know that I could make you as proud and happy as I should be
+myself; but I should try very hard, out of gratitude as well as love. We
+have also certain sentiments in common. That would be one bond more.
+
+“But indeed I feel I cannot make my love a good bargain to you, for you
+are peerless, and deserve a much better lot in every way than I can
+offer. I can only kneel to you and say, 'Zoe Vizard, if your heart is
+your own to give, pray be my lover, my queen, my wife.'
+
+“Your faithful servant and devoted admirer,
+
+“UXMOOR.”
+
+
+“Poor fellow!” said Zoe, and her eyes filled. She sat quite quiet, with
+the letter open in her hand. She looked at it, and murmured, “A pearl is
+offered me here: wealth, title, all that some women sigh for, and--what I
+value above all--a noble nature, a true heart, and a soul above all
+meanness. No; Uxmoor will never tell a falsehood. He _could_ not.”
+
+She sighed deeply, and closed her eyes. All was still. The light was
+faint; yet she closed her eyes, like a true woman, to see the future
+clearer.
+
+Then, in the sober and deep calm, there seemed to be faint peeps of
+coming things: It appeared a troubled sea, and Uxmoor's strong hand
+stretched out to rescue her. If she married him, she knew the worst--an
+honest man she esteemed, and had almost an affection for, but no love.
+
+As some have an impulse to fling themselves from a height, she had one to
+give herself to Uxmoor, quietly, irrevocably, by three written words
+dispatched that night.
+
+But it was only an impulse. If she had written it, she would have torn it
+up.
+
+Presently a light thrill passed through her: she wore a sort of
+half-furtive, guilty look, and opened the window.
+
+Ay, there he stood in the moonlight, waiting to be heard.
+
+She did not start nor utter any exclamation. Somehow or other she almost
+knew he was there before she opened the window.
+
+“Well?” said she, with a world of meaning.
+
+“You grant me a hearing at last.”
+
+“I do. But it is no use. You cannot explain away a falsehood.”
+
+“Of course not. I am here to confess that I told a falsehood. But it was
+not you I wished to deceive. I was going to explain the whole thing to
+you, and tell you all; but there is no getting a word with you since that
+lord came.”
+
+“He had nothing to do with it. I should have been just as much shocked.”
+
+“But it would only have been for five minutes. Zoe!”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“Just put yourself in my place. A detective, who ought to have written to
+me in reply to my note, surprises me with a call. I was ashamed that such
+a visitor should enter your brother's house to see me. There sat my
+rival--an aristocrat. I was surprised into disowning the unwelcomed
+visitor, and calling him my solicitor.”
+
+Now if Zoe had been an Old Bailey counsel, she would have kept him to the
+point, reminded him that his visitor was unseen, and fixed a voluntary
+falsehood on him; but she was not an experienced cross-examiner, and
+perhaps she was at heart as indignant at the detective as at the
+falsehood: so she missed her advantage, and said, indignantly, “And what
+business had you with a detective? You having one at all, and then
+calling him your solicitor, makes one think all manner of things.”
+
+“I should have told you all about it that afternoon, only our intercourse
+is broken off to please a rival. Suppose I gave you a rival, and used you
+for her sake as you use me for his, what would you say? That would be a
+worse infidelity than sending for a detective, would it not?”
+
+Zoe replied, haughtily, “You have no right to say you have a rival; how
+dare you? Besides,” said she, a little ruefully, “it is you who are on
+your defense, not me.”
+
+“True; I forgot that. Recrimination is not convenient, is it?”
+
+“I can escape it by shutting the window,” said Zoe, coldly.
+
+“Oh, don't do that. Let me have the bliss of seeing you, and I will
+submit to a good deal of injustice without a murmur.”
+
+“The detective?” said Zoe, sternly.
+
+“I sent for him, and gave him his instructions, and he is gone for me to
+Homburg.”
+
+“Ah! I thought so. What for?”
+
+“About my money. To try and find out whether they mean to keep it.”
+
+“Would you really take it if they would give it you?”
+
+“Of course I would.”
+
+“Yet you know my mind about it.”
+
+“I know you forbade me to go for it in person: and I obeyed you, did I
+not?”
+
+“Yes, you did--at the time.”
+
+“I do now. You object to my going in person to Homburg. You know I was
+once acquainted with that lady, and you feel about her a little of what I
+feel about Lord Uxmoor; about a tenth part of what I feel, I suppose, and
+with not one-tenth so much reason. Well, I know what the pangs of
+jealousy are: I will never inflict them on you, as you have on me. But I
+_will_ have my money, whether you like or not.”
+
+Zoe looked amazed at being defied. It was new to her. She drew up, but
+said nothing.
+
+Severne went on: “And I will tell you why: because without money I cannot
+have you. My circumstances have lately improved; with my money that lies
+in Homburg I can now clear my family estate of all incumbrance, and come
+to your brother for your hand. Oh, I shall be a very bad match even then,
+but I shall not be a pauper, nor a man in debt. I shall be one of your
+own class, as I was born--a small landed gentleman with an unencumbered
+estate.”
+
+“That is not the way to my affection. I do not care for money.”
+
+“But other people do. Dear Zoe, you have plenty of pride yourself; you
+must let me have a little. Deeply as I love you, I could not come to your
+brother and say, 'Give me your sister, and maintain us both.' No, Zoe, I
+cannot ask your hand till I have cleared my estate; and I cannot clear it
+without that money. For once I must resist you, and take my chance. There
+is wealth and a title offered you. I won't ask you to dismiss them and
+take a pauper. If you don't like me to try for my own money, give your
+hand to Lord Uxmoor; then I shall recall my detective, and let all go;
+for poverty or wealth will matter nothing to me: I shall have lost the
+angel I love: and she once loved me.”
+
+He faltered, and the sad cadence of his voice melted her. She began to
+cry. He turned his head away and cried too.
+
+There was a silence. Zoe broke it first.
+
+“Edward,” said she, softly.
+
+“Zoe!”
+
+“You need not defy me. I would not humiliate you for all the world. Will
+it comfort you to know that I have been very unhappy ever since you
+lowered yourself so? I will try and accept your explanation.”
+
+He clasped his hands with gratitude.
+
+“Edward, will you grant me a favor?”
+
+“Can you ask?”
+
+“It is to have a little more confidence in one who--Now you must obey me
+implicitly, and perhaps we may both be happier to-morrow night than we
+are to-night. Directly after breakfast take your hat and walk to
+Hillstoke. You can call on Miss Gale, if you like, and say something
+civil.”
+
+“What! go and leave you alone with Lord Uxmoor?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Ah, Zoe, you know your power. Have a little mercy.”
+
+“Perhaps I may have a great deal--if you obey me.”
+
+“I _will_ obey you.”
+
+“Then go to bed this minute.”
+
+She gave him a heavenly smile, and closed the window.
+
+
+Next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, Ned Severne said, “Any
+messages for Hillstoke? I am going to walk up there this morning.”
+
+“Embrace my virago for me,” said Vizard.
+
+Severne begged to be excused.
+
+He hurried off, and Lord Uxmoor felt a certain relief.
+
+The Master of Arts asked himself what he could do to propitiate the
+female M. D. He went to the gardener and got him to cut a huge bouquet,
+choice and fragrant, and he carried it all the way to Hillstoke. Miss
+Gale was at home. As he was introduced rather suddenly, she started and
+changed color, and said, sharply, “What do you want?” Never asked him to
+sit down, rude Thing!
+
+He stood hanging his head like a culprit, and said, with well-feigned
+timidity, that he came, by desire of Miss Vizard, to inquire how she was
+getting on, and to hope the people were beginning to appreciate her.
+
+“Oh! that alters the case; any messenger from Miss Vizard is welcome. Did
+she send me those flowers, too? They are beautiful.”
+
+“No. I gathered them myself. I have always understood ladies loved
+flowers.”
+
+“It is only by report you know that, eh? Let me add something to your
+information: a good deal depends on the giver; and you may fling these
+out of the window.” She tossed them to him.
+
+The Master of Arts gave a humble, patient sigh, and threw the flowers out
+of the window, which was open. He then sunk into a chair and hid his face
+in his hands.
+
+Miss Gale colored, and bit her lip. She did not think he would have done
+that, and it vexed her economical soul. She cast a piercing glance at
+him, then resumed her studies, and ignored his presence.
+
+But his patience exhausted hers. He sat there twenty minutes, at least,
+in a state of collapse that bid fair to last forever.
+
+So presently she looked up and affected to start. “What! are you there
+still?” said she.
+
+“Yes,” said be; “you did not dismiss me; only my poor flowers.”
+
+“Well,” said she, apologetically, “the truth is, I'm not strong enough to
+dismiss you by the same road.”
+
+“It is not necessary. You have only to say, 'Go.'”
+
+“Oh, that would be rude. Could not you go without being told right out?”
+
+“No, I could not. Miss Gale, I can't account for it, but there is some
+strange attraction. You hate me, and I fear you, yet I could follow you
+about like a dog. Let me sit here a little longer and see you work.”
+
+Miss Gale leaned her head upon her hand, and contemplated him at great
+length. Finally she adopted a cat-like course. “No,” said she, at last;
+“I am going my rounds: you can come with me, if I am so attractive.”
+
+He said he should be proud, and she put on her hat in thirty seconds.
+
+They walked together in silence. He felt as if he were promenading a
+tiger cat, that might stop any moment to fall upon him.
+
+She walked him into a cottage: there was a little dead wood burning on
+that portion of the brick floor called the hearth. A pale old man sat
+close to the fire, in a wooden armchair. She felt his pulse, and wrote
+him a prescription.
+
+
+“To Mr. Vizard's housekeeper, Vizard Court:
+
+“Please give the bearer two pounds of good roast beef or mutton, not
+salted, and one pint port wine,
+
+“RHODA GALE, M. D.”
+
+
+“Here, Jenny,” she said to a sharp little girl, the man's grandniece,
+“take this down to Vizard Court, and if the housekeeper objects, go to
+the front-door and demand in my name to see the squire or Miss Vizard,
+and give _them_ the paper. Don't you give it up without the meat. Take
+this basket on your arm.”
+
+Then she walked out of the cottage, and Severne followed her: he ventured
+to say that was a novel prescription.
+
+She explained. “Physicians are obliged to send the rich to the chemist,
+or else the fools would think they were slighted. But we need not be so
+nice with the poor; we can prescribe to do them good. When you inflicted
+your company on me, I was sketching out a treatise, to be entitled, 'Cure
+of Disorders by Esculents.' That old man is nearly exsanguis. There is
+not a drug in creation that could do him an atom of good. Nourishing food
+may. If not, why, he is booked for the long journey. Well, he has had his
+innings. He is fourscore. Do you think _you_ will ever see fourscore--you
+and your vices?”
+
+“Oh, no. But I think _you_ will; and I hope so; for you go about doing
+good.”
+
+“And some people one could name go about doing mischief?”
+
+Severne made no reply.
+
+Soon after they discovered a little group, principally women and
+children. These were inspecting something on the ground, and chattering
+excitedly. The words of dire import, “She have possessed him with a
+devil,” struck their ear. But soon they caught sight of Miss Gale, and
+were dead silent. She said, “What is the matter? Oh, I see, the vermifuge
+has acted.”
+
+It was so: a putty-faced boy had been unable to eat his breakfast; had
+suffered malaise for hours afterward, and at last had been seized with a
+sort of dry retching, and had restored to the world they so adorn a
+number of amphibia, which now wriggled in a heap, and no doubt bitterly
+regretted the reckless impatience with which they had fled from an
+unpleasant medicine to a cold-hearted world.
+
+“Well, good people,” said Miss Gale, “what are you making a fuss about?
+Are they better in the boy or out of him?”
+
+The women could not find their candor at a moment's notice, but old Giles
+replied heartily, “Why, hout! better an empty house than a bad tenant.”
+
+“That is true,” said half a dozen voices at once. They could resist
+common sense in its liquid form, but not when solidified into a proverb.
+
+“Catch me the boy,” said Miss Gale, severely.
+
+Habitual culpability destroys self-confidence; so the boy suspected
+himself of crime, and instantly took to flight. His companions loved
+hunting; so three swifter boys followed him with a cheerful yell, secured
+him, and brought him up for sentence.
+
+“Don't be frightened, Jacob,” said the doctress. “I only want to know
+whether you feel better or worse.”
+
+His mother put in her word: “He was ever so bad all the morning.”
+
+“Hold your jaw,” said old Giles, “and let the boy tell his own tale.”
+
+“Well, then,” said Jacob, “I was mortal bad, but now do I feel like a
+feather; wust on't is, I be so blessed hungry now. Dall'd if I couldn't
+eat the devil--stuffed with thunder and lightning.”
+
+“I'll prescribe accordingly,” said Miss Gale, and wrote in pencil an
+order on a beefsteak pie they had sent her from the Court.
+
+The boy's companions put their heads together over this order, and
+offered their services to escort him.
+
+“No, thank you,” said the doctress. “He will go alone, you young monkeys.
+Your turn will come.”
+
+Then she proceeded on her rounds, with Mr. Severne at her heels, until it
+was past one o'clock.
+
+Then she turned round and faced him. “We will part here,” said she, “and
+I will explain my conduct to you, as you seem in the dark. I have been
+co-operating with Miss Vizard all this time. I reckon she sent you out of
+the way to give Lord Uxmoor his opportunity, so I have detained you.
+While you have been studying medicine, he has been popping the question,
+of course. Good-by, Mr. Villain.”
+
+Her words went through the man like cold steel. It was one woman reading
+another. He turned very white, and put his hand to his heart. But he
+recovered himself, and said, “If she prefers another to me, I must
+submit. It is not my absence for a few hours that will make the
+difference. You cannot make me regret the hours I have passed in your
+company. Good-by,” and he seemed to leave her very reluctantly.
+
+“One word,” said she, softening a little. “I'm not proof against your
+charm. Unless I see Zoe Vizard in danger, you have nothing to fear from
+me. But I love _her,_ you understand.”
+
+He returned to her directly, and said, in most earnest, supplicating
+tones, “But will you ever forgive me?”
+
+“I will try.”
+
+And so they parted.
+
+He went home at a great rate; for Miss Gale's insinuations had raised
+some fear in his breast.
+
+Meantime this is what had really passed between Zoe and Lord Uxmoor.
+Vizard went to his study, and Fanny retired at a signal from Zoe. She
+rose, but did not go; she walked slowly toward the window; Uxmoor joined
+her: for he saw he was to have his answer from her mouth.
+
+Her bosom heaved a little, and her cheeks flushed. “Lord Uxmoor,” she
+said, “you have done me the greatest honor any man can pay a woman, and
+from you it is indeed an honor. I could not write such an answer as I
+could wish; and, besides, I wish to spare you all the mortification I
+can.”
+
+“Ah!” said Uxmoor, piteously.
+
+“You are worthy of any lady's love; but I have only my esteem to give
+you, and that was given long ago.”
+
+Uxmoor, who had been gradually turning very white, faltered, “I had my
+fears. Good-by.”
+
+She gave him her hand. He put it respectfully to his lips: then turned
+and left her, sick at heart, but too brave to let it be seen. He
+preferred her esteem to her pity.
+
+By this means he got both. She put her handkerchief to her eyes without
+disguise. But he only turned at the door to say, in a pretty firm voice,
+“God bless you!”
+
+In less than an hour he drove his team from the door, sitting heartbroken
+and desolate, but firm and unflinching as a rock.
+
+So then, on his return from Hillstoke, Severne found them all at luncheon
+except Uxmoor. He detailed his visit to Miss Gale, and, while he talked,
+observed. Zoe was beaming with love and kindness. He felt sure she had
+not deceived him. He learned, by merely listening, that Lord Uxmoor was
+gone, and he exulted inwardly.
+
+After luncheon, Elysium. He walked with the two girls, and Fanny lagged
+behind; and Zoe proved herself no coquette. A coquette would have been a
+little cross and shown him she had made a sacrifice. Not so Zoe Vizard.
+She never told him, nor even Fanny, she had refused Lord Uxmoor. She
+esteemed the great sacrifice she had made for him as a little one, and so
+loved him a little more that he had cost her an earl's coronet and a
+large fortune.
+
+The party resumed their habits that Uxmoor had interrupted, and no
+warning voice was raised.
+
+The boring commenced at Hillstoke, and Doctress Gale hovered over the
+work. The various strata and their fossil deposits were an endless study,
+and kept her microscope employed. With this, and her treatise on “Cure by
+Esculents” she was so employed that she did not visit the Court for some
+days: then came an invitation from Lord Uxmoor to stay a week with him,
+and inspect his village. She accepted it, and drove herself in the
+bailiff's gig, all alone. She found her host attending to his duties, but
+dejected; so then she suspected, and turned the conversation to Zoe
+Vizard, and soon satisfied herself he had no hopes in that quarter. Yet
+he spoke of her with undisguised and tender admiration. Then she said to
+herself, “This is a man, and he shall have her.”
+
+She sat down and wrote a letter to Vizard, telling him all she knew, and
+what she thought, viz., that another woman, and a respectable one, had a
+claim on Mr. Severne, which ought to be closely inquired into, and _the
+lady's version heard._ “Think of it,” said she. “He disowned the woman
+who had saved his life, he was so afraid I should tell Miss Vizard under
+what circumstances I first saw him.”
+
+She folded and addressed the letter.
+
+But having relieved her mind in some degree by this, she asked herself
+whether it would not be kinder to all parties to try and save Zoe without
+an exposure. Probably Severne benefited by his grace and his disarming
+qualities; for her ultimate resolution was to give him a chance, offer
+him an alternative: he must either quietly retire, or be openly exposed.
+
+So then she put the letter in her desk, made out her visit, of which no
+further particulars can be given at present, returned home, and walked
+down to the Court next morning to have it out with Edward Severne.
+
+
+But, unfortunately, from the very day she offered him terms up at
+Hillstoke, the tide began to run in Severne's favor with great rapidity.
+
+A letter came from the detective. Severne received it at breakfast, and
+laid it before Zoe, which had a favorable effect on her mind to begin.
+
+Poikilus reported that the money was in good hands. He had seen the lady.
+She made no secret of the thing--the sum was 4,900 pounds, and she said
+half belonged to her and half to a gentleman. She did not know him, but
+her agent, Ashmead, did. Poikilus added that he had asked her would she
+honor that gentleman's draft? She had replied she should be afraid to do
+that; but Mr. Ashmead should hand it to him on demand. Poikilus summed up
+that the lady was evidently respectable, and the whole thing square.
+
+Severne posted this letter to his cousin, under cover, to show him he was
+really going to clear his estate, but begged him to return it immediately
+and lend him 50 pounds. The accommodating cousin sent him 50 pounds, to
+aid him in wooing his heiress. He bought her a hoop ring, apologized for
+its small value, and expressed his regret that all he could offer her was
+on as small a scale, except his love.
+
+She blushed, and smiled on him, like heaven opening. “Small and great, I
+take them,” said she; and her lovely head rested on his shoulder.
+
+They were engaged.
+
+From that hour he could command a _te'te-'a-te'te_ with her whenever he
+chose, and his infernal passion began to suggest all manner of wild,
+wicked and unreasonable hopes.
+
+Meantime there was no stopping. He soon found he must speak seriously to
+Vizard. He went into his study and began to open the subject. Vizard
+stopped him. “Fetch the other culprit,” said he; and when Zoe came,
+blushing, he said, “Now I am going to make shorter work of this than you
+have done. Zoe has ten thousand pounds. What have you got?”
+
+“Only a small estate, worth eight thousand pounds, that I hope to clear
+of all incumbrances, if I can get my money.”
+
+“Fond of each other? Well, don't strike me dead with your eyes. I have
+watched you, and I own a prettier pair of turtledoves I never saw. Well,
+you have got love and I have got money. I'll take care of you both. But
+you must live with me. I promise never to marry.”
+
+This brought Zoe round his neck, with tears and kisses of pure affection.
+He returned them, and parted her hair paternally.
+
+“This is a beautiful world, isn't it?” said he, with more tenderness than
+cynicism this time.
+
+“Ah, that it is!” cried Zoe, earnestly. “But I can't have you say you
+will never be as happy as I am. There are true hearts in this heavenly
+world; for I have found one.”
+
+“I have not, and don't mean to try again. I am going in for the paternal
+now. You two are my children. I have a talisman to keep me from marrying.
+I'll show it you.” He drew a photograph from his drawer, set round with
+gold and pearls. He showed it them suddenly. They both started. A fine
+photograph of Ina Klosking. She was dressed as plainly as at the
+gambling-table, but without a bonnet, and only one rose in her hair. Her
+noble forehead was shown, and her face, a model of intelligence,
+womanliness, and serene dignity.
+
+He gazed at it, and they at him and it.
+
+He kissed it. “Here is my Fate,” said he. “Now mark the ingenuity of a
+parent. I keep out of my Fate's way. But I use her to keep off any other
+little Fates that may be about. No other humbug can ever catch me while I
+have such a noble humbug as this to contemplate. Ah! and here she is as
+Siebel. What a goddess! Just look at her. Adorable! There, this shall
+stand upon my table, and the other shall be hung in my bedroom. Then, my
+dear Zoe, you will be safe from a stepmother. For I am your father now.
+Please understand that.”
+
+This brought poor Zoe round his neck again with such an effusion that at
+last he handed her to Severne, and he led her from the room, quite
+overcome, and, to avoid all conversation about what had just passed, gave
+her over to Fanny, while he retired to compose himself.
+
+By dinner-time he was as happy as a prince again and relieved of all
+compunction.
+
+He heard afterward from Fanny that Zoe and she had discussed the incident
+and Vizard's infatuation, Fanny being specially wroth at Vizard's abuse
+of pearls; but she told him she had advised Zoe not to mention that
+lady's name, but let her die out.
+
+And, in point of fact, Zoe did avoid the subject.
+
+There came an eventful day. Vizard got a letter, at breakfast, from his
+bankers, that made him stare, and then knit his brows. It was about
+Edward Severne' s acceptances. He said nothing, but ordered his horse and
+rode into Taddington.
+
+The day was keen but sunny, and, seeing him afoot so early, Zoe said she
+should like a drive before luncheon. She would show Severne and Fanny
+some ruins on Pagnell Hill. They could leave the trap at the village inn
+and walk up the hill. Fanny begged off, and Severne was very glad. The
+prospect of a long walk up a hill with Zoe, and then a day spent in utter
+seclusion with her, fired his imagination and made his heart beat. Here
+was one of the opportunities he had long sighed for of making passionate
+love to innocence and inexperience.
+
+Zoe herself was eager for the drive, and came down, followed by Rosa with
+some wraps, and waited in the morning-room for the dog-cart. It was
+behind time for once, because the careful coachman had insisted on the
+axle being oiled. At last the sound of wheels was heard. A carriage drew
+up at the door.
+
+“Tell Mr. Severne,” said Zoe. “He is in the dining-room, I think.”
+
+But it was not the dog-cart.
+
+A vigilant footman came hastily out and opened the hall door. A lady was
+on the steps, and spoke to him, but, in speaking, she caught sight of Zoe
+in the hall. She instantly slipped pass the man and stood within the
+great door.
+
+“Miss Vizard?” said she.
+
+Zoe took a step toward her and said, with astonishment, “Mademoiselle
+Klosking!”
+
+The ladies looked at each other, and Zoe saw something strange was
+coming; for the Klosking was very pale, yet firm, and fixed her eyes upon
+her as if there was nothing else in sight.
+
+“You have a visitor--Mr. Severne?”
+
+“Yes,” said Zoe, drawing up.
+
+“Can I speak with him?”
+
+“He will answer for himself. EDWARD!”
+
+At her call Severne came out hastily behind Ina Klosking.
+
+She turned, and they faced each other.
+
+“Ah!” she cried; and in spite of all, there was more of joy than any
+other passion in the exclamation.
+
+Not so he. He uttered a scream of dismay, and staggered, white as a
+ghost, but still glared at Ina Klosking.
+
+Zoe's voice fell on him like a clap of thunder: “What!--Edward!--Mr.
+Severne!--Has this lady still any right--”
+
+“No, none whatever!” he cried; “it is all past and gone.”
+
+“What is past?” said Ina Klosking, grandly. “Are you out of your senses?”
+
+Then she was close to him in a moment, by one grand movement, and took
+him by both lapels of his coat, and held him firmly. “Speak before this
+lady,” she cried. “Have--I--no--rights--over you?” and her voice was
+majestic, and her Danish eyes gleamed lightning.
+
+The wretch's knees gave way a moment and he shook in her hands. Then,
+suddenly, he turned wild. “Fiend! you have ruined me!” he yelled; and
+then, with his natural strength, which was great, and the superhuman
+power of mad excitement, he whirled her right round and flung her from
+him, and dashed out of the door, uttering cries of rage and despair.
+
+The unfortunate lady, thus taken by surprise, fell heavily, and, by cruel
+ill luck, struck her temple, in falling, against the sharp corner of a
+marble table. It gashed her forehead fearfully, and she lay senseless,
+with the blood spurting in jets from her white temple.
+
+Zoe screamed violently, and the hall and the hall staircase seemed to
+fill by magic.
+
+In the terror and confusion, Harrington Vizard strode into the hall, from
+Taddington. “What is the matter?” he cried. “A woman killed?”
+
+Some one cried out she had fallen.
+
+“Water, fools--a sponge--don't stand gaping!” and he flung himself on his
+knees, and raised the woman's head from the floor. One eager look into
+her white face--one wild cry--“Great God! it is--” He had recognized her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+IT was piteous to see and hear. The blood would not stop; it spurted no
+longer, but it flowed alarmingly. Vizard sent Harris off in his own fly
+for a doctor, to save time. He called for ice. He cried out in agony to
+his servants, “Can none of you think of anything? There--that hat. Here,
+you women; tear me the nap off with your fingers. My God! what is to be
+done? She'll bleed to death!” And he held her to his breast, and almost
+moaned with pity over her, as he pressed the cold sponge to her wound--in
+vain; for still the red blood would flow.
+
+Wheels ground the gravel. Servants flew to the door, crying, “The doctor!
+the doctor!”
+
+As if he could have been fetched in five minutes from three miles off.
+
+Yet it was a doctor. Harris had met Miss Gale walking quietly down from
+Hillstoke. He had told her in a few hurried words, and brought her as
+fast as the horses could go.
+
+She glided in swiftly, keen, but self-possessed, and took it all in
+directly.
+
+Vizard saw her, and cried, “Ah! Help!--she is bleeding to death!”
+
+“She shall not,” said Rhoda. Then to one footman, “Bring a footstool,
+_you;”_ to another, _“You_ bring me a cork;” to Vizard, _“You_ hold her
+toward me so. Now sponge the wound.”
+
+This done, she pinched the lips of the wound together with her neat,
+strong fingers. “See what I do,” she said to Vizard. “You will have to do
+it, while I--Ah, the stool! Now lay her head on that; the other side,
+man. Now, sir, compress the wound as I did, vigorously. Hold the cork,
+_you,_ till I want it.”
+
+She took out of her pocket some adhesive plaster, and flakes of some
+strong styptic, and a piece of elastic. “Now,” said she to Vizard, “give
+me a little opening in the middle to plaster these strips across the
+wound.” He did so. Then in a moment she passed the elastic under the
+sufferer's head, drew it over with the styptic between her finger and
+thumb, and crack! the styptic was tight on the compressed wound. She
+forced in more styptic, increasing the pressure, then she whipped out a
+sort of surgical housewife, and with some cutting instrument reduced the
+cork, then cut it convex, and fastened it on the styptic by another
+elastic. There was no flutter, yet it was all done in fifty seconds.
+
+“There,” said she, “she will bleed no more, to speak of. Now seat her
+upright. Why! I have seen her before. This is--sir, you can send the men
+away.”'
+
+“Yes; and, Harris, pack up Mr. Severne's things, and bring them down here
+this moment.”
+
+The male servants retired, the women held aloof. Fanny Dover came
+forward, pale and trembling, and helped to place Ina Klosking in the hall
+porter's chair. She was insensible still, but moaned faintly.
+
+Her moans were echoed: all eyes turned. It was Zoe, seated apart, all
+bowed and broken--ghastly pale, and glaring straight before her.
+
+“Poor girl!” said Vizard. “We forgot her. It is her heart that bleeds.
+Where is the scoundrel, that I may kill him?” and he rushed out at the
+door to look for him. The man's life would not have been worth much if
+Squire Vizard could have found him then.
+
+But he soon came back to his wretched home, and eyed the dismal scene,
+and the havoc one man had made--the marble floor all stained with
+blood--Ina Klosking supported in a chair, white, and faintly moaning--Zoe
+still crushed and glaring at vacancy, and Fanny sobbing round her with
+pity and terror; for she knew there must be worse to come than this wild
+stupor.
+
+“Take her to her room, Fanny dear,” said Vizard, in a hurried, faltering
+voice, “and don't leave her. Rosa, help Miss Dover. Do not leave her
+alone, night nor day.” Then to Miss Gale, “She will live? Tell me she
+will live.”
+
+“I hope so,” said Rhoda Gale. “Oh, the blow will not kill her, nor yet
+the loss of blood. But I fear there will be distress of mind added to the
+bodily shock. And such a noble face! My own heart bleeds for her. Oh,
+sir, do not send her away to strangers! Let me take her up to the farm.
+It is nursing she will need, and tact, when she comes to herself.”
+
+“Send here away to strangers!” cried Vizard. “Never! No. Not even to the
+farm. Here she received her wound; here all that you and I can do shall
+be done to save her. Ah, here's Harris, with the villain's things. Get
+the lady's boxes out, and put Mr. Severne's into the fly. Give the man
+two guineas, and let him leave them at the 'Swan,' in Taddington.”
+
+He then beckoned down the women, and had Ina Klosking carried upstairs to
+the very room Severne had occupied.
+
+He then convened the servants, and placed them formally under Miss Gale's
+orders, and one female servant having made a remark, he turned her out of
+the house, neck and crop, directly with her month's wages. The others had
+to help her pack, only half an hour being allowed for her exit.
+
+The house seemed all changed. Could this be Vizard Court? Dead
+gloom--hurried whispers--and everybody walking softly, and scared--none
+knowing what might be the next calamity.
+
+Vizard felt sick at heart and helpless. He had done all he could, and was
+reduced to that condition women bear far better than men--he must wait,
+and hope, and fear. He walked up and down the carpeted landing, racked
+with anxiety.
+
+At last there came a single scream of agony from Ina Klosking's room.
+
+It made the strong man quake.
+
+He tapped softly at the door.
+
+Rhoda opened it.
+
+“What is it?” he faltered.
+
+She replied, gravely, “Only what must be. She is beginning to realize
+what has befallen her. Don't come here. You can do no good. I will run
+down to you whenever I dare. Give me a nurse to help, this first night.”
+
+He went down and sent into the village for a woman who bore a great name
+for nursing. Then he wandered about disconsolate.
+
+The leaden hours passed. He went to dress, and discovered Ina Klosking's
+blood upon his clothes. It shocked him first, and then it melted him: he
+felt an inexpressible tenderness at sight of it. The blood that had
+flowed in her veins seemed sacred to him. He folded that suit, and tied
+it up in a silk handkerchief, and locked it away.
+
+In due course he sat down to dinner--we are all such creatures of habit.
+There was everything as usual, except the familiar faces. There was the
+glittering plate on the polished sideboard, the pyramid of flowers
+surrounded with fruits. There were even chairs at the table, for the
+servants did not know he was to be quite alone. But he was. One delicate
+dish after another was brought him, and sent away untasted. Soon after
+dinner Rhoda Gale came down and told him her patient was in a precarious
+condition, and she feared fever and delirium. She begged him to send one
+servant up to the farm for certain medicaments she had there, and another
+to the chemist at Taddington. These were dispatched on swift horses, and
+both were back in half an hour.
+
+By-and-by Fanny Dover came down to him, with red eyes, and brought him
+Zoe's love. “But,” said she, “don't ask her to come down. She is ashamed
+to look anybody in the face, poor girl.”
+
+“Why? what has _she_ done?”
+
+“Oh, Harrington, she has made no secret of her affection; and now, at
+sight of that woman, he has abandoned her.”
+
+“Tell her I love her more than I ever did, and respect her more. Where is
+her pride?”
+
+“Pride! she is full of it; and it will help her--by-and-by. But she has a
+bitter time to go through first. You don't know how she loves him.”
+
+“What! love him still, after what he has done?”
+
+“Yes! She interprets it this way and that. She cannot bear to believe
+another woman has any real right to separate them.”
+
+“Separate them! The scoundrel knocked _her_ down for loving him still,
+and fled from them both. Was ever guilt more clear? If she doubts that he
+is a villain, tell her from me he is a forger, and has given me bills
+with false names on them. The bankers gave me notice to-day, and I was
+coming home to order him out of the house when this miserable business
+happened.”
+
+“A forger! is it possible?” said Fanny. “But it is no use my telling her
+that sort of thing. If he had committed murder, and was true to her, she
+would cling to him. She never knew till now how she loved him, nor I
+neither. She put him in Coventry for telling a lie; but she was far more
+unhappy all the time than he was. There is nothing to do but to be kind
+to her, and let her hide her face. Don't hurry her.”
+
+“Not I. God help her! If she has a wish, it shall be gratified. I am
+powerless. She is young. Surely time will cure her of a villain, now he
+is detected.”
+
+Fanny said she hoped so.
+
+The truth is, Zoe had not opened her heart to Fanny. She clung to her,
+and writhed in her arms; but she spoke little, and one broken sentence
+contradicted the other. But mental agony, like bodily, finds its vent,
+not in speech, the brain's great interpreter, but in inarticulate cries,
+and moans, and sighs, that prove us animals even in the throes of mind.
+Zoe was in that cruel stage of suffering.
+
+So passed that miserable day.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+INA KLOSKING recovered her senses that evening, and asked Miss Gale where
+she was. Miss Gale told her she was in the house of a friend.
+
+“What friend?”
+
+“That,” said Miss Gale, “I will tell you by-and-by. You are in good
+hands, and I am your physician.”
+
+“I have heard your voice before,” said Ina, “but I know not where; and it
+is so dark! Why is it so dark?”
+
+“Because too much light is not good for you. You have met with an
+accident.”
+
+“What accident, madam?”
+
+“You fell and hurt your poor forehead. See, I have bandaged it, and now
+you must let me wet the bandage--to keep your brow cool.”
+
+“Thank you, madam,” said Ina, in her own sweet but queenly way. “You are
+very good to me. I wish I could see your face more clearly. I know your
+voice.” Then, after a silence, during which Miss Gale eyed her with
+anxiety, she said, like one groping her way to the truth,
+“I--fell--and--hurt--my forehead?--_Ah!”_
+
+Then it was she uttered the cry that made Vizard quake at the door, and
+shook for a moment even Rhoda's nerves, though, as a rule, they were iron
+in a situation of this kind.
+
+It had all come back to Ina Klosking.
+
+After that piteous cry she never said a word. She did nothing but think,
+and put her hand to her head.
+
+And soon after midnight she began to talk incoherently.
+
+The physician could only proceed by physical means. She attacked the
+coming fever at once, with the remedies of the day, and also with an
+infusion of monk's-hood. That poison, promptly administered, did not
+deceive her. She obtained a slight perspiration, which was so much gained
+in the battle.
+
+In the morning she got the patient shifted into another bed, and she
+slept a little after that. But soon she was awake, restless, and raving:
+still her character pervaded her delirium. No violence. Nothing any sore
+injured woman need be ashamed to have said: only it was all disconnected.
+One moment she was speaking to the leader of the orchestra, at another to
+Mr. Ashmead, at another, with divine tenderness, to her still faithful
+Severne. And though not hurried, as usual in these cases, it was almost
+incessant and pitiable to hear, each observation was so wise and good;
+yet, all being disconnected, the hearer could not but feel that a noble
+mind lay before him, overthrown and broken into fragments like some Attic
+column.
+
+In the middle of this the handle was softly turned, and Zoe Vizard came
+in, pale and somber.
+
+Long before this she had said to Fanny several times, “I ought to go and
+see her;” and Fanny had said, “Of course you ought.”
+
+So now she came. She folded her arms and stood at the foot of the bed,
+and looked at her unhappy rival, unhappy as possible herself.
+
+What contrary feelings fought in that young breast! Pity and hatred. She
+must hate the rival who had come between her and him she loved; she must
+pity the woman who lay there, pale, wounded, and little likely to
+recover.
+
+And, with all this, a great desire to know whether this sufferer had any
+right to come and seize Edward Severne by the arm, and so draw down
+calamity on both the women who loved him.
+
+She looked and listened, and Rhoda Gale thought it hard upon her patient.
+
+But it was not in human nature the girl should do otherwise; so Rhoda
+said nothing.
+
+What fell from Ina's lips was not of a kind to make Zoe more her friend.
+
+Her mind seemed now like a bird tied by a long silken thread. It made
+large excursions, but constantly came back to her love. Sometimes that
+love was happy, sometimes unhappy. Often she said “Edward!” in the
+exquisite tone of a loving woman; and whenever she did, Zoe received it
+with a sort of shiver, as if a dagger, fine as a needle, had passed
+through her whole body.
+
+At last, after telling some tenor that he had sung F natural instead of F
+sharp, and praised somebody's rendering of a song in “Il Flauto Magico,”
+ and told Ashmead to make no more engagements for her at present, for she
+was going to Vizard Court, the poor soul paused a minute, and uttered a
+deep moan.
+
+_“Struck down by the very hand that was vowed to protect me!”_ said she.
+Then was silent again. Then began to cry, and sob, and wring her hands.
+
+Zoe put her hand to her heart and moved feebly toward the door. However,
+she stopped a moment to say, “I am no use here. You would soon have me
+raving in the next bed. I will send Fanny.” Then she drew herself up.
+“Miss Gale, everybody here is at your command. Pray spare nothing you can
+think of to save--_my brother's guest.”_
+
+There came out the bitter drop.
+
+When she had said that, she stalked from the room like some red Indian
+bearing a mortal arrow in him, but too proud to show it.
+
+But when she got to her own room she flung herself on her sofa, and
+writhed and sobbed in agony.
+
+Fanny Dover came in and found her so, and flew to her.
+
+But she ordered her out quite wildly. “No, no; go to _her,_ like all the
+rest, and leave poor Zoe all alone. She _is_ alone.”
+
+Then Fanny clung to her, and tried hard to comfort her.
+
+This young lady now became very zealous and active. She divided her time
+between the two sufferers, and was indefatigable in their service. When
+she was not supporting Zoe, she was always at Miss Gale's elbow offering
+her services. “Do let me help you,” she said. “Do pray let me help. We
+are poor at home, and there is nothing I cannot do. I'm worth any three
+servants.”
+
+She always helped shift the patient into a fresh bed, and that was done
+very often. She would run to the cook or the butler for anything that was
+wanted in a hurry. She flung gentility and humbug to the winds. Then she
+dressed in ten minutes, and went and dined with Vizard, and made excuses
+for Zoe's absence, to keep everything smooth; and finally she insisted on
+sitting up with Ina Klosking till three in the morning, and made Miss
+Gale go to bed in the room. “Paid nurses!” said she; “they are no use
+except to snore and drink the patient's wine. You and I will watch her
+every moment of the night; and if I'm ever at a loss what to do, I will
+call you.”
+
+Miss Gale stared at her once, and then accepted this new phase of her
+character.
+
+The fever was hot while it lasted; but it was so encountered with tonics,
+and port wine, and strong beef soup (not your rubbishy beef tea), that in
+forty-eight hours it began to abate. Ina recognized Rhoda Gale as the
+lady who had saved Severne's life at Montpellier, and wept long and
+silently upon her neck. In due course, Zoe, hearing there was a great
+change, came in again to look at her. She stood and eyed her. Soon Ina
+Klosking caught sight of her, and stared at her.
+
+“You here!” said she. “Ah! you are Miss Vizard. I am in your house. I
+will get up and leave it;” and she made a feeble attempt to rise, but
+fell back, and the tears welled out of her eyes at her helplessness.
+
+Zoe was indignant, but for the moment more shocked than anything else.
+She moved away a little, and did not know what to say.
+
+“Let me look at you,” said the patient. “Ah! you are beautiful. When I
+saw you at the theater, you fascinated me. How much more a man? I will
+resist no more. You are too beautiful to be resisted. Take him, and let
+me die.”
+
+“I do her no good,” said Zoe, half sullenly, half trembling.
+
+“Indeed you do not,” said Rhoda, bluntly, and almost bitterly. She was
+all nurse.
+
+“I'll come here no more,” said Zoe, sadly but sternly, and left the room.
+
+Then Ina turned to Miss Gale and said, patiently, “I hope I was not rude
+to that lady--who has broken my heart.”
+
+Fanny and Rhoda took each a hand and told her she could not be rude to
+anybody.
+
+“My friends,” said Ina, looking piteously to each in turn, “it is her
+house, you know, and she is very good to me now--after breaking my
+heart.”
+
+Then Fanny showed a deal of tact. _“Her_ house!” said she. “It is no more
+hers than mine. Why, this house belongs to a gentleman, and he is mad
+after music. He knows you very well, though you don't know him, and he
+thinks you the first singer in Europe.”
+
+“You flatter me,” said Ina, sadly.
+
+“Well, he thinks so; and he is reckoned a very good judge. Ah! now I
+think of it, I will show you something, and then you will believe me.”
+
+She ran off to the library, snatched up Ina's picture set round with
+pearls, and came panting in with it. “There,” said she; “now you look at
+that!” and she put it before her eyes. “Now, who is that, if you please?”
+
+“Oh! It is Ina Klosking that was. Please bring me a glass.”
+
+The two ladies looked at each other. Miss Gale made a negative signal,
+and Fanny said, “By-and-by. This will do instead, for it is as like as
+two peas. Now ask yourself how this comes to be in the house, and set in
+pearls. Why, they are worth three hundred pounds. I assure you that the
+master of this house is _fanatico per la musica;_ heard you sing Siebel
+at Homburg--raved about you--wanted to call on you. We had to drag him
+away from the place; and he declares you are the first singer in the
+world; and you cannot doubt his sincerity, for _here are the pearls.”_
+
+Ina Klosking's pale cheek colored, and then she opened her two arms wide,
+and put them round Fanny's neck and kissed her: her innocent vanity was
+gratified, and her gracious nature suggested gratitude to her who had
+brought her the compliment, instead of the usual ungrateful bumptiousness
+praise elicits from vanity.
+
+Then Miss Gale put in her word--“When you met with this unfortunate
+accident, I was for taking you up to my house. It is three miles off; but
+he would not hear of it. He said, 'No; here she got her wound, and here
+she must be cured.'”
+
+“So,” said Fanny, “pray set your mind at ease. My cousin Harrington is a
+very good soul, but rather arbitrary. If you want to leave this place,
+you must get thoroughly well and strong, for he will never let you go
+till you are.”
+
+Between these two ladies, clever and cooperating, Ina smiled, and seemed
+relieved; but she was too weak to converse any more just then.
+
+Some hours afterward she beckoned Fanny to her, and said, “The master of
+the house--what is his name?”
+
+“Harrington Vizard.”
+
+“What!--_her_ father?”
+
+“La, no; only her half-brother.”
+
+“If he is so kind to me because I sing, why comes he not to see me? _She_
+has come.”
+
+Fanny smiled. “It is plain you are not an Englishwoman, though you speak
+it so beautifully. An English gentleman does not intrude into a lady's
+room.”
+
+“It is his room.”
+
+“He would say that, while you occupy it, it is yours, and not his.”
+
+“He awaits my invitation, then.”
+
+“I dare say he would come if you were to invite him, but certainly not
+without.”
+
+“I wish to see him who has been so kind to me, and so loves music; but
+not to-day--I feel unable.”
+
+The next day she asked for a glass, and was distressed at her appearance.
+She begged for a cap.
+
+“What kind of a cap?” asked Fanny.
+
+“One like that,” said she, pointing to a portrait on the wall. It was of
+a lady in a plain brown silk dress and a little white shawl, and a neat
+cap with a narrow lace border all round her face.
+
+This particular cap was out of date full sixty years; but the house had a
+storeroom of relics, and Fanny, with Vizard's help, soon rummaged out a
+cap of the sort, with a narrow frill all round.
+
+Her hair was smoothed, a white silk band passed over the now closed
+wound, and the cap fitted on her. She looked pale, but angelic.
+
+Fanny went down to Vizard, and invited him to come and see Mademoiselle
+Klosking--by her desire. “But,” she added, “Miss Gale is very anxious
+lest you should get talking of Severne. She says the fever and loss of
+blood have weakened her terribly; and if we bring the fever on again, she
+cannot answer for her life.”
+
+“Has she spoken of him to you?”
+
+“Not once.”
+
+“Then why should she to me?”
+
+“Because you are a man, and she may think to get the _truth_ out of you:
+she knows _we_ shall only say what is for the best. She is very deep, and
+we don't know her mind yet.”
+
+Vizard said he would be as guarded as he could; but if they saw him going
+wrong, they must send him away.
+
+“Oh, Miss Gale will do that, you may be sure,” said Fanny.
+
+Thus prepared, Vizard followed Fanny up the stairs to the sick-room.
+
+Either there is such a thing as love at first sight, or it is something
+more than first sight, when an observant man gazes at a woman for an hour
+in a blaze of light, and drinks in her looks, her walk, her voice, and
+all the outward signs of a beautiful soul; for the stout cynic's heart
+beat at entering that room as it had not beat for years. To be sure, he
+had not only seen her on the stage in all her glory, but had held her,
+pale and bleeding, to his manly breast, and his heart warmed to her all
+the more, and, indeed, fairly melted with tenderness.
+
+Fanny went in and announced him. He followed softly, and looked at her.
+
+Wealth can make even a sick-room pretty. The Klosking lay on snowy
+pillows whose glossy damask was edged with lace; and upon her form was an
+eider-down quilt covered with violet-colored satin, and her face was set
+in that sweet cap which hid her wound, and made her eloquent face less
+ghastly.
+
+She turned to look at him, and he gazed at her in a way that spoke
+volumes.
+
+“A seat,” said she, softly.
+
+Fanny was for putting one close to her. “No,” said Miss Gale, “lower
+down; then she need not to turn her head.”
+
+So he sat down nearer her feet.
+
+“My good host,” said she, in her mellow voice, that retained its quality,
+but not its power, “I desire to thank you for your goodness to a poor
+singer, struck down--by the hand that was bound to protect her.”
+
+Vizard faltered out that there was nothing to thank him for. He was proud
+to have her under his roof, though deeply grieved at the cause.
+
+She looked at him, and her two nurses looked at her and at each other, as
+much as to say, “She is going upon dangerous ground.”
+
+They were right. But she had not the courage, or, perhaps, as most women
+are a little cat-like in this, that they go away once or twice from the
+subject nearest their heart before they turn and pounce on it, she must
+speak of other things first. Said she, “But if I was unfortunate in that,
+I was fortunate in this, that I fell into good hands. These ladies are
+sisters to me,” and she gave Miss Gale her hand, and kissed the other
+hand to Fanny, though she could scarcely lift it; “and I have a host who
+loves music, and overrates my poor ability.” Then, after a pause, “What
+have you heard me sing?”
+
+“Siebel.”
+
+“Only Siebel! why, that is a poor little thing.”
+
+“So _I_ thought, till I heard you sing it.”
+
+“And, after Siebel, you bought my photograph.”
+
+“Instantly.”
+
+“And wasted pearls on it.”
+
+“No, madam. I wasted it on pearls.”
+
+“If I were well, I should call that extravagant. But it is permitted to
+flatter the sick--it is kind. Me you overrate, I fear; but you do well to
+honor music. Ay, I, who lie here wounded and broken-hearted, do thank God
+for music. Our bodies are soon crushed, our loves decay or turn to hate,
+but art is immortal.”
+
+She could no longer roll this out in her grand contralto, but she could
+still raise her eyes with enthusiasm, and her pale face was illuminated.
+A grand soul shone through her, though she was pale, weak, and prostrate.
+
+They admired her in silence.
+
+After a while she resumed, and said, “If I live, I must live for my art
+alone.”
+
+Miss Gale saw her approaching a dangerous topic, so she said, hastily,
+“Don't say _if_ you live, please, because that is arranged. You have been
+out of danger this twenty-four hours, provided you do not relapse; and I
+must take care of that.”
+
+“My kind friend,” said Ina, “I shall not relapse; only my weakness is
+pitiable. Sometimes I can scarcely forbear crying, I feel so weak. When
+shall I be stronger?”
+
+“You shall be a little stronger every three days. There are always ups
+and downs in convalescence.”
+
+“When shall I be strong enough to move?”
+
+“Let me answer that question,” said Vizard. “When you are strong enough
+to sing us Siebel's great song.”
+
+“There,” said Fanny Dover; “there is a mercenary host for you. He means
+to have a song out of you. Till then you are his prisoner.”
+
+“No, no, she is mine,” said Miss Gale; “and she shan't go till she has
+sung me 'Hail, Columbia.' None of your Italian trash for me.”
+
+Ina smiled, and said it was a fair condition, provided that “Hail,
+Columbia,” with which composition, unfortunately, she was unacquainted,
+was not beyond her powers. “I have often sung for money,” said she; “but
+this time”--here she opened her grand arms and took Rhoda Gale to her
+bosom--“I shall sing for love.”
+
+“Now we have settled that,” said Vizard, “my mind is more at ease, and I
+will retire.”
+
+“One moment,” said Ina, turning to him. Then, in a low and very meaning
+voice, _“There is something else.”_
+
+“No doubt there is plenty,” said Miss Gale, sharply; “and, by my
+authority, I postpone it all till you are stronger. Bid us good-by for
+the present, Mr. Vizard.”
+
+“I obey,” said he. “But, madam, please remember I am always at your
+service. Send for me when you please, and the oftener the better for me.”
+
+“Thank you, my kind host. Oblige me with your hand.”
+
+He gave her his hand. She took it, and put her lips to it with pure and
+gentle and seemly gratitude, and with no loss of dignity, though the act
+was humble.
+
+He turned his head away, to hide the emotion that act and the touch of
+her sweet lips caused him; Miss Gale hurried him out of the room.
+
+“You naughty patient,” said she; “you must do nothing to excite
+yourself.”
+
+“Sweet physician, loving nurse, I am not excited.”
+
+Miss Gale felt her heart to see.
+
+“Gratitude does not excite,” said Ina. “It is too tame a feeling in the
+best of us.”
+
+“That is a fact,” said Miss Gale; “so let us all be grateful, and avoid
+exciting topics. Think what I should feel if you had a relapse. Why, you
+would break my heart.”
+
+“Should I?”
+
+“I really think you would, tough as it is. One gets so fond of an
+unselfish patient. You cannot think how rare they are, dear. You are a
+pearl. I cannot afford to lose you.”
+
+“Then you shall not,” said Ina, firmly. “Know that I, who seem so weak,
+am a woman of great resolution. I will follow good counsel; I will
+postpone all dangerous topics till I am stronger; I will live. For I will
+not grieve the true friends calamity has raised me.”
+
+
+Of course Fanny told Zoe all about this interview. She listened gloomily;
+and all she said was, “Sisters do not go for much when a man is in love.”
+
+“Do brothers, when a woman is?” said Fanny.
+
+“I dare say they go for as much as they are worth.”
+
+“Zoe, that is not fair. Harrington is full of affection for you. But you
+will not go near him. Any other man would be very angry. Do pray make an
+effort, and come down to dinner to-day.”
+
+“No, no. He has you and his Klosking. And I have my broken heart. I _am_
+alone; and so will be all alone.”
+
+She cried and sobbed, but she was obstinate, and Fanny could only let her
+have her own way in that.
+
+Another question was soon disposed of. When Fanny invited her into the
+sickroom, she said, haughtily, “I go there no more. Cure her, and send
+her away--if Harrington will let her go. I dare say she is to be pitied.”
+
+“Of course she is. She is your fellow-victim, if you would only let
+yourself see it.”
+
+“Unfortunately, instead of pitying her, I hate her. She has destroyed my
+happiness, and done herself no good. He does not love her, and never
+will.”
+
+Fanny found herself getting angry, so she said no more; for she was
+determined nothing should make her quarrel with poor Zoe; but after
+dinner, being _te'te-'a-te'te_ with Vizard, she told him she was afraid
+Zoe could not see things as they were; and she asked him if he had any
+idea what had become of Severne.
+
+“Fled the country, I suppose.”
+
+“Are you sure he is not lurking about?”
+
+“What for?”
+
+“To get a word with Zoe--alone.”
+
+“He will not come near this. I will break every bone in his skin if he
+does.”
+
+“But he is so sly; he might hang about.”
+
+“What for? She never goes out; and if she did, have you so poor an
+opinion of her as to think she would speak to him?”
+
+“Oh, no! and she would forbid him to speak to her. But he would be sure
+to persist; and he has such wonderful powers of explanation, and she is
+blinded by love, I think he would make her believe black was white, if he
+had a chance; and if he is about, he will get a chance some day. She is
+doing the very worst thing she could--shutting herself up so. Any moment
+she will turn wild, and rush out reckless. She is in a dangerous state,
+you mark my words; she is broken-hearted, and yet she is bitter against
+everybody, except that young villain, and he is the only enemy she has in
+the world. I don't believe Mademoiselle Klosking ever wronged her, nor
+ever will. Appearances are against her; but she is a good woman, or I am
+a fool. Take my advice, Harrington, and be on your guard. If he had
+written a penitent letter to Mademoiselle Klosking, that would be a
+different thing; but he ignores her, and that frightens me for Zoe.”
+
+Harrington would not admit that Zoe needed any other safeguard against a
+detected scoundrel than her own sense of dignity. He consented, however,
+to take precautions, if Fanny would solemnly promise not to tell Zoe, and
+so wound her. On that condition, he would see his head-keeper tomorrow,
+and all the keepers and watchers should be posted so as to encircle the
+parish with vigilance. He assured Fanny these fellows had a whole system
+of signals to the ear and eye, and Severne could not get within a mile of
+the house undetected. “But,” said he, “I will not trust to that alone. I
+will send an advertisement to the local papers and the leading London
+journals, so worded that the scoundrel shall know his forgery is
+detected, and that he will be arrested on a magistrate's warrant if he
+sets foot in Barfordshire.”
+
+Fanny said that was capital, and, altogether, he had set her mind at
+rest.
+
+“Then do as much for me,” said Vizard. “Please explain a remarkable
+phenomenon. You were always a bright girl, and no fool; but not exactly
+what humdrum people would call a good girl. You are not offended?”
+
+“The idea! Why, I have publicly disowned goodness again and again. You
+have heard me.”
+
+“So I have. But was not that rather deceitful of you? for you have turned
+out as good as gold. Anxiety has kept me at home of late, and I have
+watched you. You live for others; you are all over the house to serve two
+suffering _women._ That is real charity, not sexual charity, which
+humbugs the world, but not me. You are cook, housemaid, butler, nurse,
+and friend to both of them. In an interval of your time, so creditably
+employed, you come and cheer me up with your bright little face, and give
+me wise advice. I know that women are all humbugs; only you are a humbug
+reversed, and deserve a statue--and trimmings. You have been passing
+yourself off for a naughty girl, and all the time you were an extra good
+one.”
+
+“And that puzzles the woman-hater, the cynical student, who says he has
+fathomed woman. My poor dear Harrington, if you cannot read so shallow a
+character as I am, how will you get on with those ladies upstairs--Zoe,
+who is as deep as the sea, and turbid with passion, and the Klosking, who
+is as deep as the ocean?”
+
+She thought a moment and said, “There, I will have pity on you. You shall
+understand one woman before you die, and that is me. I'll give you the
+clew to my seeming inconsistencies--if _you_ will give _me_ a cigarette.”
+
+“What! another hidden virtue? You smoke?”
+
+“Not I, except when I happen to be with a noble soul who won't tell.”
+
+Vizard found her a Russian cigarette, and lighted his own cigar, and she
+lectured as follows:
+
+“What women love, and can't do without, if they are young and healthy and
+spirited, is--Excitement. I am one who pines for it. Now, society is so
+constructed that to get excitement you must be naughty. Waltzing all
+night and flirting all day are excitement. Crochet, and church, and
+examining girls in St. Matthew, and dining _en famille,_ and going to bed
+at ten, are stagnation. Good girls--that means stagnant girls: I hate and
+despise the tame little wretches, and I never was one, and never will be.
+But now look here: We have two ladies in love with one villain--that is
+exciting. One gets nearly killed in the house--that is gloriously
+exciting. The other is broken-hearted. If I were to be a bad girl, and
+say, 'It is not my business; I will leave them to themselves, and go my
+little mill-round of selfishness as before,' why, what a fool I must be!
+I should lose Excitement. Instead of that, I run and get thinks for the
+Klosking--Excitement. I cook for her, and nurse her, and sit up half the
+night--Excitement. Then I run to Zoe, and do my best for her--and get
+snubbed--Excitement. Then I sit at the head of your table, and order
+you--Excitement. Oh, it is lovely!”
+
+“Shall you not be sorry when they both get well, and Routine
+recommences?”
+
+“Of course I shall. That is the sort of good girl I am. And, oh! when
+that fatal day comes, how I shall flirt. Heaven help my next flirtee! I
+shall soon flirt out the stigma of a good girl. You mark my words, I
+shall flirt with some _married man_ after this. I never did that yet. But
+I shall; I know I shall.--Ah!--there, I have burned my finger.”
+
+“Never mind. That is exciting.”
+
+“As such I accept it. Good-by. I must go and relieve Miss Gale. Exit the
+good girl on her mission of charity--ha! ha!” She hummed a _valse 'a deux
+temps,_ and went dancing out with such a whirl that her petticoats, which
+were ample, and not, as now, like a sack tied at the knees, made quite a
+cool air in the room.
+
+She had not been gone long when Miss Gale came down, full of her patient.
+She wanted to get her out of bed during the daytime, but said she was not
+strong enough to sit up. Would he order an invalid couch down from
+London? She described the article, and where it was to be had.
+
+He said Harris should go up in the morning and bring one down with him.
+
+He then put her several questions about her patient; and at last asked
+her, with an anxiety he in vain endeavored to conceal, what she thought
+was the relation between her and Severne.
+
+Now it may be remembered that Miss Gale had once been on the point of
+telling him all she knew, and had written him a letter. But at that time
+the Klosking was not expected to appear on the scene in person. Were she
+now to say she had seen her and Severne living together, Rhoda felt that
+she should lower her patient. She had not the heart to do that.
+
+Rhoda Gale was not of an amorous temperament, and she was all the more
+open to female attachments. With a little encouragement she would have
+loved Zoe, but she had now transferred her affection to the Klosking. She
+replied to Vizard almost like a male lover defending the object of his
+affection.
+
+“The exact relation is more than I can tell; but I think he has lived
+upon her, for she was richer than he was; and I feel sure he has promised
+her marriage. And my great fear now is lest he should get hold of her and
+keep his promise. He is as poor as a rat or a female physician; and she
+has a fortune in her voice, and has money besides, Miss Dover tells me.
+Pray keep her here till she is quite well, please.”
+
+“I will.”
+
+“And then let me have her up at Hillstoke. She is beginning to love me,
+and I dote on her.”
+
+“So do I.”
+
+“Ah, but you must not.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“Because.”
+
+“Well, why not?”
+
+“She is not to love any man again who will not marry her. I won't let
+her. I'll kill her first, I love her so. A rogue she shan't marry, and I
+can't let you marry her, because, her connection with that Severne is
+mysterious. She seems the soul of virtue, but I could not let _you_ marry
+her until things are clearer.”
+
+“Make your mind easy. I will not marry her--nor anybody else--till things
+are a great deal clearer than I have ever found them, where your sex is
+concerned.”
+
+Miss Gale approved the resolution.
+
+Next day Vizard posted his keepers, and sent his advertisements to the
+London and country journals.
+
+Fanny came into his study to tell him there was more trouble--Miss
+Maitland taken seriously ill, and had written to Zoe.
+
+“Poor old soul!” said Vizard. “I have a great mind to ride over and see
+her.”
+
+“Somebody ought to go,” said Fanny.
+
+“Well, you go.”
+
+“How can I--with Zoe, and Mademoiselle Klosking, and you, to look after?”
+
+“Instead of one old woman. Not much excitement in that.”
+
+“No, cousin. To think of your remembering! Why, you must have gone to bed
+sober.”
+
+“I often do.”
+
+“You were always an eccentric landowner.”
+
+“Don't you talk. You are a caricature.”
+
+This banter was interrupted by Miss Gale, who came to tell Harrington
+Mademoiselle Klosking desired to see him, at his leisure.
+
+He said he would come directly.
+
+“Before you go,” said Miss Gale, “let us come to an understanding. She
+had only two days' fever; but that fever, and the loss of blood, and the
+shock to her nerves, brought her to death's door by exhaustion. Now she
+is slowly recovering her strength, because she has a healthy stomach, and
+I give her no stimulants to spur and then weaken her, but choice and
+simple esculents, the effect of which I watch, and vary them accordingly.
+But the convalescent period is always one of danger, especially from
+chills to the body, and excitements to the brain. At no period are more
+patients thrown away for want of vigilance. Now I can guard against
+chills and other bodily things, but not against excitements--unless you
+co-operate. The fact is, we must agree to avoid speaking about Mr.
+Severne. We must be on our guard. We must parry; we must evade; we must
+be deaf, stupid, slippery; but no Severne--for five or six days more, at
+all events.”
+
+Thus forewarned, Vizard, in due course, paid his second visit to Ina
+Klosking.
+
+He found her propped up with pillows this time. She begged him to be
+seated.
+
+She had evidently something on her mind, and her nurses watched her like
+cats.
+
+“You are fond of music, sir?”
+
+“Not of all music. I adore good music, I hate bad, and I despise
+mediocre. Silence is golden, indeed, compared with poor music.”
+
+“You are right, sir. Have you good music in the house?”
+
+“A little. I get all the operas, and you know there are generally one or
+two good things in an opera--among the rubbish. But the great bulk of our
+collection is rather old-fashioned. It is sacred music--oratorios,
+masses, anthems, services, chants. My mother was the collector. Her
+tastes were good, but narrow. Do you care for that sort of music?”
+
+“Sacred music? Why, it is, of all music, the most divine, and soothes the
+troubled soul. Can I not see the books? I read music like words. By
+reading I almost hear.”
+
+“We will bring you up a dozen books to begin on.”
+
+He went down directly; and such was his pleasure in doing anything for
+the Klosking that he executed the order in person, brought up a little
+pile of folios and quartos, beautifully bound and lettered, a lady having
+been the collector.
+
+Now, as he mounted the stairs, with his very chin upon the pile, who
+should he see looking over the rails at him but his sister Zoe.
+
+She was sadly changed. There was a fixed ashen pallor on her cheek, and a
+dark circle under her eyes.
+
+He stopped to look at her. “My poor child,” said he, “you look very ill.”
+
+“I am very ill, dear.”
+
+“Would you not be better for a change?”
+
+“I might.”
+
+“Why coop yourself up in your own room? Why deny yourself a brother's
+sympathy?”
+
+The girl trembled, and tears came to her eyes.
+
+“Is it with me you sympathize?” said she.
+
+“Can you doubt it, Zoe?”
+
+Zoe hung her head a moment, and did not reply. Then she made a diversion.
+“What are those books? Oh, I see--your mother's music-books. Nothing is
+too good for _her.”_
+
+“Nothing in the way of music-books is too good for her. For shame! are
+you jealous of that unfortunate lady?”
+
+Zoe made no reply.
+
+She put her hands before her face, that Vizard might not see her mind.
+
+Then he rested his books on a table, and came and took her head in his
+hands paternally. “Do not shut yourself up any longer. Solitude is
+dangerous to the afflicted. Be more with me than ever, and let this cruel
+blow bind us more closely, instead of disuniting us.”
+
+He kissed her lovingly, and his kind words set her tears flowing; but
+they did her little good--they were bitter tears. Between her and her
+brother there was now a barrier sisterly love could not pass. He hated
+and despised Edward Severne; and she only distrusted him, and feared he
+was a villain. She loved him still with every fiber of her heart, and
+pined for his explanation of all that seemed so dark.
+
+So then he entered the sick-room with his music-books; and Zoe, after
+watching him in without seeming to do so, crept away to her own room.
+
+Then there was rather a pretty little scene. Miss Gale and Miss Dover, on
+each side of the bed, held a heavy music-book, and Mademoiselle Klosking
+turned the leaves and read, when the composition was worth reading. If it
+was not, she quietly passed it over, without any injurious comment.
+
+Vizard watched her from the foot of the bed, and could tell in a moment,
+by her face, whether the composition was good, bad, or indifferent. When
+bad, her face seemed to turn impassive, like marble; when good, to
+expand; and when she lighted on a masterpiece, she was almost
+transfigured, and her face shone with elevated joy.
+
+This was a study to the enamored Vizard, and it did not escape the
+quick-sighted doctress. She despised music on its own merits, but she
+despised nothing that could be pressed into the service of medicine; and
+she said to herself, “I'll cure her with esculents and music.”
+
+The book was taken away to make room for another.
+
+Then said Ina Klosking, “Mr. Vizard, I desire to say a word to you.
+Excuse me, my dear friends.”
+
+Miss Gale colored up. She had not foreseen a _te'te-'a-te'te_ between
+Vizard and her patient. However, there was no help for it, and she
+withdrew to a little distance with Fanny; but she said to Vizard, openly
+and expressively, “Remember!”
+
+When they had withdrawn a little way, Ina Klosking fixed her eyes on
+Vizard, and said, in a low voice, “Your sister!”
+
+Vizard started a little at the suddenness of this, but he said nothing:
+he did not know what to say.
+
+When she had waited a little, and he said nothing, she spoke again. “Tell
+me something about her. Is she good? Forgive me: it is not that I doubt.”
+
+“She is good, according to her lights.”
+
+“Is she proud?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Is she just?”
+
+“No. And I never met a woman that was.”
+
+“Indeed it is rare. Why does she not visit me?”
+
+“I don't know”
+
+“She blames me for all that has happened.”
+
+“I don't know, madam. My sister looks very ill, and keeps her own room.
+If she does not visit you, she holds equally aloof from us all. She has
+not taken a single meal with me for some days.”
+
+“Since I was your patient and your guest.”
+
+“Pray do not conclude from that--Who can interpret a woman?”
+
+“Another woman. Enigmas to you, we are transparent to each other. Sir,
+will you grant me a favor? Will you persuade Miss Vizard to see me here
+alone--all alone? It will be a greater trial to me than to her, for I am
+weak. In this request I am not selfish. She can do nothing for me; but I
+can do a little for her, to pay the debt of gratitude I owe this
+hospitable house. May Heaven bless it, from the roof to the foundation
+stone!”
+
+“I will speak to my sister, and she shall visit you--with the consent of
+your physician.”
+
+“It is well,” said Ina Klosking, and beckoned her friends, one of whom,
+Miss Gale, proceeded to feel her pulse, with suspicious glances at
+Vizard. But she found the pulse calm, and said so.
+
+Vizard took his leave and went straight to Zoe's room. She was not there.
+He was glad of that, for it gave him hopes she was going to respect his
+advice and give up her solitary life.
+
+He went downstairs and on to the lawn to look for her. He could not see
+her anywhere.
+
+At last, when he had given up looking for her, he found her in his study
+crouched in a corner.
+
+
+She rose at sight of him and stood before him. “Harrington,” said she, in
+rather a commanding way, “Aunt Maitland is ill, and I wish to go to her.”
+
+Harrington stared at her with surprise. “You are not well enough
+yourself.”
+
+“Quite well enough in body to go anywhere.”
+
+“Well, but--” said Harrington.
+
+She caught him up impatiently. “Surely you cannot object to my visiting
+Aunt Maitland. She is dangerously ill. I had a second letter this
+morning--see.” And she held him out a letter.
+
+Harrington was in a difficulty. He felt sure this was not her real
+motive; but he did not like to say so harshly to an unhappy girl. He took
+a moderate course. “Not just now, dear,” said he.
+
+“What! am I to wait till she dies?” cried Zoe, getting agitated at his
+opposition.
+
+“Be reasonable, dear. You know you are the mistress of this house. Do not
+desert me just now. Consider the position. It is a very chattering
+county. I entertain Mademoiselle Klosking; I could not do otherwise when
+she was nearly killed in my hall. But for my sister to go away while she
+remains here would have a bad effect.”
+
+“It is too late to think of that, Harrington. The mischief is done, and
+you must plead your eccentricity. Why should I bear the blame? I never
+approved it.”
+
+“You would have sent her to an inn, eh?”
+
+“No; but Miss Gale offered to take her.”
+
+“Then I am to understand that you propose to mark your reprobation of my
+conduct by leaving my house.”
+
+“What! publicly? Oh no. You may say to yourself that your sister could
+not bear to stay under the same roof with Mr. Severne's mistress. But
+this chattering county shall never know my mind. My aunt is dangerously
+ill. She lives but thirty miles off. She is a fit object of pity. She is
+a--respectable--lady; she is all alone; no female physician, no flirt
+turned Sister of Charity, no woman-hater, to fetch and carry for her. And
+so I shall go to her. I am your sister, not your slave. If you grudge me
+your horses, I will go on foot.”
+
+Vizard was white with wrath, but governed himself like a man. “Go on,
+young lady!” said he; “go on! Jeer, and taunt, and wound the best brother
+any young madwoman ever had. But don't think I'll answer you as you
+deserve. I'm too cunning. If I was to say an unkind word to you, I should
+suffer the tortures of the damned. So go on!”
+
+“No, no. Forgive me, Harrington. It is your opposition that drives me
+wild. Oh, have pity on me! I shall go mad if I stay here. Do, pray, pray,
+pray let me go to Aunt Maitland!”
+
+“You shall go, Zoe. But I tell you plainly, this step will be a blow to
+our affection--the first.”
+
+Zoe cried at that. But as she did not withdraw her request, Harrington
+told her, with cold civility, that she must be good enough to be ready
+directly after breakfast to-morrow, and take as little luggage as she
+could with convenience to herself.
+
+
+Horses were sent on that night to the “Fox,” an inn half-way between
+Vizard Court and Miss Maitland's place.
+
+In the morning a light barouche, with a sling for luggage, came round,
+and Zoe was soon seated in it. Then, to her surprise, Harrington came out
+and sat beside her.
+
+She was pleased at this and said, “What! are you going with me, dear, all
+that way?”
+
+“Yes, to save appearances,” said he; and took out a newspaper to read.
+
+This froze Zoe, and she retired within herself.
+
+It was a fine fresh morning; the coachman drove fast; the air fanned her
+cheek; the motion was enlivening; the horses's hoofs rang quick and clear
+upon the road. Fresh objects met the eye every moment. Her heart was as
+sad and aching as before, but there arose a faint encouraging sense that
+some day she might be better, or things might take some turn.
+
+When they had rolled about ten miles she said, in a low voice,
+“Harrington.”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“You were right. Cooping one's self up is the way to go mad.”
+
+“Of course it is.”
+
+“I feel a little better now--a very little.”
+
+“I am glad of it.”
+
+But he was not hearty, and she said no more.
+
+He was extremely attentive to her all the journey, and, indeed, had never
+been half so polite to her.
+
+This, however, led to a result he did not intend nor anticipate. Zoe,
+being now cool, fell into a state of compunction and dismay. She saw his
+affection leaving her for _her,_ and stiff politeness coming instead.
+
+She leaned forward, put her hands on his knees, and looked, all scared,
+in his face. “Harrington,” she cried, “I was wrong. What is Aunt Maitland
+to me? You are my all. Bid him turn the horses' heads and go home.”
+
+“Why, we are only six miles from the place.”
+
+“What does that matter? We shall have had a good long drive together, and
+I will dine with you after it; and I will ride or drive with you every
+day, if you will let me.”
+
+Vizard could not help smiling. He was disarmed. “You impulsive young
+monkey,” said he, “I shall do nothing of the kind. In the first place, I
+couldn't turn back from anything; I'm only a man. In the next place, I
+have been thinking it over, as you have; and this is a good move of ours,
+though I was a little mortified at first. Occupation is the best cure of
+love, and this old lady will find you plenty. Besides, nursing improves
+the character. Look at that frivolous girl Fanny, how she has come out.
+And you know, Zoe, if you get sick of it in a day or two, you have only
+to write to me, and I will send for you directly. A short absence, with
+so reasonable a motive as visiting a sick aunt, will provoke no comments.
+It is all for the best.”
+
+This set Zoe at her ease, and brother and sister resumed their usual
+manners.
+
+They reached Miss Maitland's house, and were admitted to her sick-room.
+She was really very ill, and thanked them so pathetically for coming to
+visit a poor lone old woman that now they were both glad they had come.
+
+Zoe entered on her functions with an alacrity that surprised herself, and
+Vizard drove away. But he did not drive straight home. He had started
+from Vizard Court with other views. He had telegraphed Lord Uxmoor the
+night before, and now drove to his place, which was only five miles
+distant. He found him at home, and soon told him his errand. “Do you
+remember meeting a young fellow at my house, called Severne?”
+
+“I do,” said Lord Uxmoor, dryly enough.
+
+“Well, he has turned out an impostor.”
+
+Uxmoor's eye flashed. He had always suspected Severne of being his rival
+and a main cause of his defeat. “An impostor?” said he: “that is rather a
+strong word. Certainly I never heard a gentleman tell such a falsehood as
+he volunteered about--what's the fellow's name?--a detective.”
+
+“Oh, Poikilus. That is nothing. That was one of his white lies. He is a
+villain all round, and a forger by way of climax.”
+
+“A forger! What, a criminal?”
+
+“Rather! Here are his drafts. The drawer and acceptor do not exist. The
+whole thing was written by Edward Severne, whose indorsement figures on
+the bill. He got me to cash these bills. I deposit them with you, and I
+ask you for a warrant to commit him--if he should come this way.”
+
+“Is that likely?”
+
+“Not at all; it is a hundred to one he never shows his nose again in
+Barfordshire. When he was found out, he bolted, and left his very clothes
+in my house. I packed them off to the 'Swan' at Taddington. He has never
+been heard of since; and I have warned him, by advertisement, that he
+will be arrested if ever he sets foot in Barfordshire.”
+
+“Well, then?”
+
+“Well, then, I am not going to throw away a chance. The beggar had the
+impudence to spoon on my sister Zoe. That was my fault, not hers. He was
+an old college acquaintance, and I gave him opportunities--I deserve to
+be horsewhipped. However, I am not going to commit the same blunder
+twice. My sister is in your neighborhood for a few days.”
+
+“Ah!”
+
+“And perhaps you will be good enough to keep your eye on her.”
+
+“I feel much honored by such a commission. But you have not told me where
+Miss Vizard is.”
+
+“With her aunt, Miss Maitland, at Somerville Villa, near Bagley. Apropos,
+I had better tell you what she is there for, or your good dowager will be
+asking her to parties. She has come to nurse her aunt Maitland. The old
+lady is seriously ill, and all our young coquettes are going in for
+nursing. We have a sick lady at our house, I am sorry to say, and she is
+nursed like a queen by Doctress Gale and ex Flirt Fanny Dover. Now is
+fulfilled the saying that was said,
+
+'O woman! in our hours of ease--'
+
+I spare you the rest, and simply remark that our Zoe, fired by the
+example of those two ladies, has devoted herself to nursing Aunt
+Maitland. It is very good of her, but experience tells me she will very
+soon find it extremely trying; and as she is a very pretty girl, and
+therefore a fit subject of male charity, you might pay her a visit now
+and then, and show her that this best of all possible worlds contains
+young gentlemen of distinction, with long and glossy beards, as well as
+peevish old women, who are extra selfish and tyrannical when they happen
+to be sick.”
+
+Uxmoor positively radiated as this programme was unfolded to him. Vizard
+observed that, and chuckled inwardly.
+
+He then handed him the forged acceptances.
+
+Lord Uxmoor begged him to write down the facts on paper, and also his
+application for the warrant. He did so. Lord Uxmoor locked the paper up,
+and the friends parted. Vizard drove off, easy in his mind, and
+congratulating himself, not unreasonably, on his little combination, by
+means of which he had provided his sister with a watch-dog, a companion,
+and an honorable lover all in one.
+
+Uxmoor put on his hat and strode forth into his own grounds, with his
+heart beating high at this strange turn of things in favor of his love.
+
+Neither foresaw the strange combinations which were to arise out of an
+event that appeared so simple and one-sided.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+INA KLOSKING'S cure was retarded by the state of her mind. The excitement
+and sharp agony her physician had feared died away as the fever of the
+brain subsided; but then there settled down a grim, listless lethargy,
+which obstructed her return to health and vigor. Once she said to Rhoda
+Gale, “But I have nothing to get well for.”
+
+As a rule, she did not speak her mind, but thought a great deal. She
+often asked after Zoe; and her nurses could see that her one languid
+anxiety was somehow connected with that lady. Yet she did not seem
+hostile to her now, nor jealous. It was hard to understand her; she was
+reserved, and very deep.
+
+The first relief to the deadly languor of her mind came to her from
+Music. That was no great wonder; but, strange to say, the music that did
+her good was neither old enough to be revered, nor new enough to be
+fashionable. It was English music too, and _passe'_ music. She came
+across a collection of Anglican anthems and services--written, most of
+it, toward the end of the last century and the beginning of this. The
+composers' names promised little: they were Blow, Nares, Green, Kent,
+King, Jackson, etc. The words and the music of these compositions seemed
+to suit one another; and, as they were all quite new to her, she went
+through them almost eagerly, and hummed several of the strains, and with
+her white but now thin hand beat time to others. She even sent for
+Vizard, and said to him, “You have a treasure here. Do you know these
+compositions?”
+
+He inspected his treasure. “I remember,” said he, “my mother used to sing
+this one, 'When the Eye saw Her, then it blessed Her;' and parts of this
+one, 'Hear my Prayer;' and, let me see, she used to sing this psalm,
+'Praise the Lord,' by Jackson. I am ashamed to say I used to ask for
+'Praise the Lord Jackson,' meaning to be funny, not devout.”
+
+“She did not choose ill,” said Ina. “I thought I knew English music, yet
+here is a whole stream of it new to me. Is it esteemed?”
+
+“I think it was once, but it has had its day.”
+
+“That is strange; for here are some immortal qualities. These composers
+had brains, and began at the right end; they selected grand and tuneful
+words, great and pious thoughts; they impregnated themselves with those
+words and produced appropriate music. The harmonies are sometimes thin,
+and the writers seem scarcely to know the skillful use of discords; but
+they had heart and invention; they saw their way clear before they wrote
+the first note; there is an inspired simplicity and fervor: if all these
+choice things are dead, they must have fallen upon bad interpreters.”
+
+“No doubt,” said Vizard; “so please get well, and let me hear these pious
+strains, which my poor dear mother loved so well, interpreted worthily.”
+
+The Klosking's eyes filled. “That is a temptation,” said she, simply.
+Then she turned to Rhoda Gale. “Sweet physician, he has done me good. He
+has given me something to get well for.”
+
+Vizard's heart yearned. “Do not talk like that,” said he, buoyantly;
+then, in a broken voice, “Heaven forbid you should have nothing better to
+live for than that.”
+
+“Sir,” said she, gravely, “I have nothing better to live for now than to
+interpret good music worthily.”
+
+There was a painful silence.
+
+Ina broke it. She said, quite calmly, “First of all, I wish to know how
+others interpret these strains your mother loved, and I have the honor to
+agree with her.”
+
+“Oh,” said Vizard, “we will soon manage that for you. These things are
+not defunct, only unfashionable. Every choir in England has sung them,
+and can sing them, after a fashion; so, at twelve o'clock to-morrow, look
+out--for squalls!”
+
+He mounted his horse, rode into the cathedral town--distant eight
+miles--and arranged with the organist for himself, four leading boys, and
+three lay clerks. He was to send a carriage in for them after the morning
+service, and return them in good time for vespers.
+
+Fanny told Ina Klosking, and she insisted on getting up.
+
+By this time Doctress Gale had satisfied herself that a little excitement
+was downright good for her patient, and led to refreshing sleep. So they
+dressed her loosely but very warmly, and rolled her to the window on her
+invalid couch, set at a high angle. It was a fine clear day in October,
+keen but genial; and after muffling her well, they opened the window.
+
+While she sat there, propped high, and inhaling the pure air, Vizard
+conveyed his little choir, by another staircase, into the antechamber;
+and, under his advice, they avoided preludes and opened in full chorus
+with Jackson's song of praise.
+
+At the first burst of sacred harmony, Ina Klosking was observed to quiver
+all over.
+
+They sung it rather coarsely, but correctly and boldly, and with a
+certain fervor. There were no operatic artifices to remind her of earth;
+the purity and the harmony struck her full. The great singer and sufferer
+lifted her clasped hands to God, and the tears flowed fast down her
+cheeks.
+
+These tears were balm to that poor lacerated soul, tormented by many
+blows.
+
+“O lacrymarum fons, tenero sacros Ducemtium ortus ex animo, quater Felix,
+in imo qui scatentem Pectore, te, pia nympha, sensit.”
+
+Rhoda Gale, who hated music like poison, crept up to her, and, infolding
+her delicately, laid a pair of wet eyes softly on her shoulder.
+
+Vizard now tapped at the door, and was admitted from the music-room. He
+begged Ina to choose another composition from her book. She marked a
+service and two anthems, and handed him the volume, but begged they might
+not be done too soon, one after the other. That would be quite enough for
+one day, especially if they would be good enough to repeat the hymn of
+praise to conclude; “for,” said she, “these are things to be digested.”
+
+Soon the boys' pure voices rose again and those poor dead English
+composers, with prosaic names, found their way again to the great foreign
+singer's soul.
+
+They sung an anthem, which is now especially despised by those great
+critics, the organists of the country--“My Song shall be of Mercy and
+Judgment.”
+
+The Klosking forgave the thinness of the harmony, and many little faults
+in the vocal execution. The words, no doubt, went far with her, being
+clearly spoken. She sat meditating, with her moist eyes raised, and her
+face transfigured, and at the end she murmured to Vizard, with her eyes
+still raised, “After all, they are great and pious words, and the music
+has at least this crowning virtue--it means the words.” Then she suddenly
+turned upon him and said, “There is another person in this house who
+needs this consolation as much as I do. Why does she not come? But
+perhaps she is with the musicians.”
+
+“Whom do you mean?”
+
+“Your sister.”
+
+“Why, she is not in the house.”
+
+Ina Klosking started at that information, and bent her eyes keenly and
+inquiringly on him.
+
+“She left two days ago.”
+
+“Indeed!”
+
+“To nurse a sick aunt.”
+
+“Indeed! Had she no other reason?”
+
+“Not that I know of,” said Vizard; but he could not help coloring a
+little.
+
+The little choir now sung a service, King in F. They sung “The
+Magnificat” rudely, and rather profanely, but recovered themselves in the
+“Dimittis.”
+
+When it was over, Ina whispered, “'To be a light to lighten the
+Gentiles.' That is an inspired duet. Oh, how it might be sung!”
+
+“Of course it might,” whispered Vizard; “so you have something to get
+well for.”
+
+“Yes, my friend--thanks to you and your sainted mother.”
+
+This, uttered in a voice which, under the healing influence of music,
+seemed to have regained some of its rich melody, was too much for our
+cynic, and he bustled off to hide his emotion, and invited the musicians
+to lunch.
+
+All the servants had been listening on the stairs, and the hospitable old
+butler plied the boys with sparkling Moselle, which, being himself reared
+on mighty Port; he thought a light and playful wine--just the thing for
+women and children. So after luncheon they sung rather wild, and the
+Klosking told Vizard, dryly, that would do for the present.
+
+Then he ordered the carriage for them, and asked Mademoiselle Klosking
+when she would like them again.
+
+“When _can_ I?” she inquired, rather timidly.
+
+“Every day, if you like--Sundays and all.”
+
+“I must be content with every other day.”
+
+Vizard said he would arrange it so, and was leaving her; but she begged
+him to stay a moment.
+
+“She would be safer here,” said she, very gravely.
+
+Vizard was taken aback by the suddenness of this return to a topic he was
+simple enough to think she had abandoned. However, he said, “She is safe
+enough. I have taken care of that, you may be sure.”
+
+“You have done well, sir,” said Ina, very gravely.
+
+She said no more to him; but just before dinner Fanny came in, and Miss
+Gale went for a walk in the garden. Ina pinned Fanny directly. “Where is
+Miss Vizard?” said she, quietly.
+
+Fanny colored up; but seeing in a moment that fibs would be dangerous,
+said, mighty carelessly, “She is at Aunt Maitland's.”
+
+“Where does _she_ live, dear?”
+
+“In a poky little place called 'Somerville Villa.'”
+
+“Far from this?”
+
+“Not very. It is forty miles by the railway, but not thirty by the road;
+and Zoe went in the barouche all the way.”
+
+Mademoiselle Klosking thought a little, and then taking Fanny Dover's
+hand, said to her, very sweetly, “I beg you to honor me with your
+confidence, and tell me something. Believe me, it is for no selfish
+motive I ask you; but I think Miss Vizard is in danger. She is too far
+from her brother, and too far from me. Mr. Vizard says she is safe. Now,
+can you tell me what he means? How can she be safe? Is her heart turned
+to stone, like mine?”
+
+“No, indeed,” said Fanny. “Yes, I will be frank with you; for I believe
+you are wiser than any one of us. Zoe is not safe, left to herself. Her
+heart is anything but stone; and Heaven knows what wild, mad thing she
+might be led into. But I know perfectly well what Vizard means: no, I
+don't like to tell it you all; it will give you pain.”
+
+“There is little hope of that. I am past pain.”
+
+“Well, then--Miss Gale will scold me.”
+
+“No, she shall not.”
+
+“Oh, I know you have got the upper hand even of her; so if you promise I
+shall not be scolded, I'll tell you. You see, I had my misgivings about
+this very thing; and as soon as Vizard came home--it was he who took her
+to Aunt Maitland--I asked him what precautions he had taken to hinder
+that man from getting hold of her again. Well, then--oh, I ought to have
+begun by telling you Mr. Severne forged bills to get money out of
+Harrington.”
+
+“Good Heavens!”
+
+“Oh, Harrington will never punish him, if he keeps his distance; but he
+has advertised in all the papers, warning him that if he sets foot in
+Barfordshire he will be arrested and sent to prison.”
+
+Ina Klosking shook her head. “When a man is in love with such a woman as
+that, dangers could hardly deter him.”
+
+“That depends upon the man, I think. But Harrington has done better than
+that. He has provided her with a watch-dog--the best of all
+watch-dogs--another lover. Lord Uxmoor lives near Aunt Maitland, and he
+adores Zoe; so Harrington has commissioned him to watch her, and cure
+her, and all. I wish he'd cure _me_--an earl's coronet and twenty
+thousand a year!”
+
+“You relieve my mind,” said Ina. Then after a pause--“But let me ask you
+one question more. Why did you not tell me Miss Vizard was gone?”
+
+“I don't know,” said Fanny, coloring up. _“She_ told me not.”
+
+“Who?”
+
+“Why, the Vixen in command. She orders everybody.”
+
+“And why did she forbid you?”
+
+“Don't know.”
+
+“Yes, you do. Kiss me, dear. There, I will distress you with no more
+questions. Why should I? Our instincts seldom deceive us. Well, so be it:
+I have something more to get well for, and I will.”
+
+Fanny looked up at her inquiringly.
+
+“Yes,” said she; “the daughter of this hospitable house will never return
+to it while I am in it. Poor girl; she thinks _she_ is the injured woman.
+So be it. I will get well--and leave it.”
+
+
+Fanny communicated this to Miss Gale, and all she said was, “She shall go
+no further than Hillstoke then; for I love her better than any man can
+love her.”
+
+Fanny did not tell Vizard; and he was downright happy, seeing the woman
+he loved recover, by slow degrees, her health, her strength, her color,
+her voice. Parting was not threatened. He did not realize that they
+should ever part at all. He had vague hopes that, while she was under his
+roof, opportunity might stand his friend, and she might requite his
+affection. All this would not bear looking into very closely: for that
+very reason he took particular care not to look into it very closely; but
+hoped all things, and was happy. In this condition he received a little
+shock.
+
+A one-horse fly was driven up to the door, and a card brought in--
+
+“MR. JOSEPH ASHMEAD.”
+
+Vizard was always at home at Vizard Court, except to convicted Bores. Mr.
+Ashmead was shown into his study.
+
+Vizard knew him at a glance. The velveteen coat had yielded to tweed; but
+another loud tie had succeeded to the one “that fired the air at
+Homburg.” There, too, was the wash-leather face, and other traits Vizard
+professed to know an actress's lover by. Yes, it was the very man at
+sight of whom he had fought down his admiration of La Klosking, and
+declined an introduction to her. Vizard knew the lady better now. But
+still he was a little jealous even of her acquaintances, and thought this
+one unworthy of her; so he received him with stiff but guarded
+politeness, leaving him to open his business.
+
+Ashmead, overawed by the avenue, the dozen gables, four-score chimneys,
+etc., addressed him rather obsequiously, but with a certain honest
+trouble, that soon softened the bad impression caused by his appearance.
+
+“Sir,” said he, “pray excuse this intrusion of a stranger, but I am in
+great anxiety. It is not for myself, but for a lady, a very distinguished
+lady, whose interests I am charged with. It is Mademoiselle Klosking, the
+famous singer.”
+
+Vizard maintained a grim silence.
+
+“You may have heard of her.”
+
+“I have.”
+
+“I almost fancy you once heard her sing--at Homburg.”
+
+“I did.”
+
+“Then I am sure you must have admired her, being a gentleman of taste.
+Well, sir, it is near a fortnight since I heard from her.”
+
+“Well, sir?”
+
+“You will say what is that to you? But the truth is, she left me, in
+London, to do certain business for her, and she went down to this very
+place. I offered to come with her, but she declined. To be sure, it was a
+delicate matter, and not at all in my way. She was to write to me and
+report progress, and give me her address, that I might write to her; but
+nearly a fortnight has passed. I have not received a single letter. I am
+in real distress and anxiety. A great career awaits her in England, sir;
+but this silence is so mysterious, so alarming, that I begin actually to
+hope she has played the fool, and thrown it all up, and gone abroad with
+that blackguard.”
+
+“What blackguard, sir?”
+
+Joseph drew in his horns. “I spoke too quick, sir,” said he; “it is no
+business of mine. But these brilliant women are as mad as the rest in
+throwing away their affections. They prefer a blackguard to a good man.
+It is the rule. Excuse my plain speaking.”
+
+“Mr. Ashmead,” said Vizard, “I may be able to answer your questions about
+this lady; but, before I do so, it is right I should know how far you
+possess her confidence. To speak plainly, have you any objection to tell
+me what is the precise relation between you and her?”
+
+“Certainly not, sir. I am her theatrical agent.”
+
+“Is that all?”
+
+“Not quite. I have been a good deal about her lately, and have seen her
+in deep distress. I think I may almost say I am her friend, though a very
+humble one.”
+
+Vizard did not yet quite realize the truth that this Bohemian had in his
+heart one holy spot--his pure devotion and unsexual friendship for that
+great artist. Still, his prejudices were disarmed, and he said, “Well,
+Mr. Ashmead, excuse my cross-questioning you. I will now give myself the
+pleasure of setting your anxieties at rest. Mademoiselle Klosking is in
+this house.”
+
+Ashmead stared at him, and then broke out, “In this house! O Lord! How
+can that be?”
+
+“It happened in a way very distressing to us all, though the result is
+now so delightful. Mademoiselle Klosking called here on a business with
+which, perhaps, you are acquainted.”
+
+“I am, sir.”
+
+“Unfortunately she met with an accident in my very hall, an accident that
+endangered her life, sir; and of course we took charge of her. She has
+had a zealous physician and good nurses, and she is recovering slowly.
+She is quite out of danger, but still weak. I have no doubt she will be
+delighted to see you. Only, as we are all under the orders of her
+physician, and that physician is a woman, and a bit of a vixen, you must
+allow me to go and consult her first.” Vizard retired, leaving Joseph
+happy, but mystified.
+
+He was not long alone. In less than a minute he had for companions some
+well-buttered sandwiches made with smoked ham, and a bottle of old
+Madeira. The solids melted in his mouth, the liquid ran through his veins
+like oil charged with electricity and _elixir vitoe._
+
+By-and-by a female servant came for him, and ushered him into Ina
+Klosking's room.
+
+She received him with undisguised affection, and he had much ado to keep
+from crying. She made him sit down near her in the vast embrasure of the
+window, and gave him a letter to read she had just written to him.
+
+They compared notes very rapidly; but their discourse will not be given
+here, because so much of it would be repetition.
+
+They were left alone to talk, and they did talk for more than an hour.
+The first interruption, indeed, was a recitativo with chords, followed by
+a verse from the leading treble.
+
+Mr. Ashmead looked puzzled; the Klosking eyed him demurely.
+
+Before the anthem concluded, Vizard tapped, and was admitted from the
+music-room. Ina smiled, and waved him to a chair. Both the men saw, by
+her manner, they were not to utter a sound while the music was going on.
+When it ceased, she said, “Do you approve that, my friend?”
+
+“If it pleases you, madam,” replied the wary Ashmead.
+
+“It does more than please me; it does me good.”
+
+“That reconciles me to it at once.”
+
+“Oh, then you do not admire it for itself.”
+
+“Not--very--much.”
+
+“Pray, speak plainly. I am not a tyrant, to impose my tastes.”
+
+“Well then, madam, I feel very grateful to anything that does you good:
+otherwise, I should say the music was--rather dreary; and the
+singing--very insipid.”
+
+The open struggle between Joseph's honesty and his awe of the Klosking
+tickled Vizard so that he leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily.
+
+The Klosking smiled superior. “He means,” said she, “that the music is
+not operatic, and the boys do not clasp their hands, and shake their
+shoulders, and sing passionately, as women do in a theater. Heaven forbid
+they should! If this world is all passion, there is another which is all
+peace; and these boys' sweet, artless tones are the nearest thing we
+shall get in this world to the unimpassioned voices of the angels. They
+are fit instruments for pious words set by composers, who, however
+obscure they may be, were men inspired, and have written immortal
+strains, which, as I hear them, seem hardly of this world--they are so
+free from all mortal dross.”
+
+Vizard assented warmly. Ashmead asked permission to hear another. They
+sung the “Magnificat” by King, in F.
+
+“Upon my word,” said Ashmead, “there is a deal of 'go' in that.”
+
+Then they sung the “Nuno Dimittis.” He said, a little dryly, there was
+plenty of repose in that.
+
+“My friend,” said she, “there is--to the honor of the composer: the
+'Magnificat' is the bright and lofty exultation of a young woman who has
+borne the Messiah, and does not foresee His sufferings, only the boon to
+the world and the glory to herself. But the 'Dimittis' is the very
+opposite. It is a gentle joy, and the world contentedly resigned by a
+good old man, fatigued, who has run his race, and longs to sleep after
+life's fever. When next you have the good fortune to hear that song,
+think you see the sun descending red and calm after a day of storms, and
+an aged Christian saying, 'Good-night,' and you will honor poor dead King
+as I do. The music that truly reflects great words was never yet small
+music, write it who may.”
+
+“You are right, madam.” said Ashmead. “When I doubted its being good
+music, I suppose I meant salable.”
+
+“Ah, _voil'a!”_ said the Klosking. Then, turning to Vizard for sympathy,
+“What this faithful friend understands by good music is music that can be
+sold for a good deal of money.”
+
+“That is so,” said Ashmead, stoutly. “I am a theatrical agent. You can't
+make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. You have tried it more than once,
+you know, but it would not work.”
+
+Ashmead amused Vizard, and he took him into his study, and had some more
+conversation with him. He even asked him to stay in the house; but
+Ashmead was shy, and there was a theater at Taddington. So he said he had
+a good deal of business to do; he had better make the “Swan” his
+headquarters. “I shall be at your service all the same, sir, or
+Mademoiselle Klosking's.”
+
+“Have a glass of Madeira, Mr. Ashmead.”
+
+“Well, sir, to tell the truth, I have had one or two.”
+
+“Then it knows the road.”
+
+“You are very good, sir. What Madeira! Is this the wine the doctors ran
+down a few years ago? They couldn't have tasted it.”
+
+“Well, it is like ourselves, improved by traveling. That has been twice
+to India.”
+
+“It will never go again past me,” said Ashmead, gayly. “My mouth is a
+cape it will never weather.”
+
+He went to his inn.
+
+Before he had been there ten minutes, up rattled a smart servant in a
+smart dogcart.
+
+“Hamper--for Joseph Ashmead, Esquire.”
+
+“Anything to pay?”
+
+“What for?--it's from Vizard Court.”
+
+And the dog-cart rattled away.
+
+Joseph was in the hall, and witnessed this phenomenon. He said to
+himself, “I wish I had a vast acquaintance--ALL COUNTRY GENTLEMEN.”
+
+
+That afternoon Ina Klosking insisted on walking up and down the room,
+supported by Mesdemoiselles Gale and Dover. The result was fatigue and
+sleep; that is all.
+
+“To-morrow,” said she, “I will have but one live crutch. I must and will
+recover my strength.”
+
+In the evening she insisted on both ladies dining with Mr. Vizard. Here,
+too, she had her way.
+
+Vizard was in very good spirits, and, when the servants were gone,
+complimented Miss Gale on her skill.
+
+_“Our_ skill, you mean,” said she. “It was you who prescribed this new
+medicine of the mind, the psalms and hymns and spiritual songs; and it
+was you who administered the Ashmead, and he made her laugh, or
+nearly--and that _we_ have never been able to do. She must take a few
+grains of Ashmead every day. The worst of it is, I am afraid we shall
+cure her too quickly; and then we shall lose her. But that was to be
+expected. I am very unfortunate in my attachments; I always was. If I
+fall in love with a woman, she is sure to hate me, or else die, or else
+fly away. I love this one to distraction, so she is sure to desert me,
+because she couldn't misbehave, and I won't _let_ her die.”
+
+“Well,” said Vizard, “you know what to do--retard the cure. That is one
+of the arts of your profession.”
+
+“And so it is; but how can I, when I love her? No, we must have recourse
+to our benevolent tyrant again. He must get Miss Vizard back here, before
+my goddess is well enough to spread her wings and fly.”
+
+Vizard looked puzzled. “This,” said he “sounds like a riddle, or female
+logic.”
+
+“It is both,” said Rhoda. “Miss Dover, give him the _mot d'e'nigme._ I'm
+off--to the patient I adore.”
+
+She vanished swiftly, and Vizard looked to Fanny for a solution. But
+Fanny seemed rather vexed with Miss Gale, and said nothing. Then he
+pressed her to explain.
+
+She answered him, with a certain reluctance, “Mademoiselle Klosking has
+taken into her head that Zoe will never return to this house while she is
+in it.”
+
+“Who put that into her head, now?” said Vizard, bitterly.
+
+“Nobody, upon my honor. A woman's instinct.”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“She is horrified at the idea of keeping your sister out of her own
+house, so she is getting well to go; and the strength of her will is such
+that she _will_ get well.”
+
+“All the better; but Zoe will soon get tired of Somerville Villa. A
+little persuasion will bring her home, especially if you were to offer to
+take her place.”
+
+“Oh, I would do that, to oblige you, Harrington, if I saw any good at the
+end of it. But please think twice. How can Zoe and that lady ever stay
+under the same roof? How can they meet at your table, and speak to each
+other? They are rivals.”
+
+“They are both getting cured, and neither will ever see the villain
+again.”
+
+“I hope not; but who can tell? Well, never mind _them._ If their eyes are
+not opened by this time, they will get no pity from me. It is you I think
+of now.” Then, in a hesitating way, and her cheeks mantling higher and
+higher with honest blushes--“You have suffered enough already from women.
+I know it is not my business, but it does grieve me to see you going into
+trouble again. What good can come of it? Her connection with that man, so
+recent, and so--strange. The world _will_ interpret its own way. Your
+position in the county--every eye upon you. I see the way in--no doubt it
+is strewed with flowers; but I see no way out. Be brave in time,
+Harrington. It will not be the first time. She must be a good woman,
+somehow, or faces, eyes and voices, and ways, are all a lie. But if she
+is good, she is very unfortunate; and she will give you a sore heart for
+life, if you don't mind. I'd clinch my teeth and shut my eyes, and let
+her go in time.”
+
+Vizard groaned aloud, and at that a tear or two rolled down Fanny's
+burning cheeks.
+
+“You are a good little girl,” said Vizard, affectionately; “but I
+_cannot.”_
+
+He hung his head despondently and muttered, “I see no way out either. But
+I yield to fate. I feared her, and fled from her. She has followed me. I
+can resist no more. I drift. Some men never know happiness. I shall have
+had a happy fortnight, at all events. I thank you, and respect you for
+your advice; but I can't take it. So now I suppose you will be too much
+offended to oblige me.”
+
+“Oh dear, no.”
+
+“Would you mind writing to Aunt Maitland, and saying you would like to
+take Zoe's place?”
+
+“I will do it with pleasure to oblige you. Besides, it will be a fib, and
+it is so long since I have told a good fib. When shall I write?”
+
+“Oh, about the end of the week.”
+
+“Yes, that will be time enough. Miss Gale won't _let_ her go till next
+week. Ah, after all, how nice and natural it is to be naughty! Fibs and
+flirtation, welcome home! This is the beauty of being good--and I shall
+recommend it to all my friends on this very account--you can always leave
+it off at a moment's notice, without any trouble. Now, naughtiness sticks
+to you like a burr.”
+
+So, with no more ado, this new Mentor became Vizard's accomplice, and
+they agreed to get Zoe back before the Klosking could get strong enough
+to move with her physician's consent.
+
+
+As the hamper of Madeira was landed in the hall of the “Swan” inn, a
+genial voice cried, “You are in luck.” Ashmead turned, and there was
+Poikilus peering at him from the doorway of the commercial room.
+
+“What is the game now?” thought Ashmead. But what he said was, “Why, I
+know that face. I declare, it is the gent that treated me at Homburg.
+Bring in the hamper, Dick.” Then to Poikilus, “Have ye dined yet?”
+
+“No. Going to dine in half an hour. Roast gosling. Just enough for two.”
+
+“We'll divide it, if you like, and I'll stand a bottle of old Madeira. My
+old friend, Squire Vizard, has just sent it me. I'll just have a splash;
+dinner will be ready by then.” He bustled out of the room, but said, as
+he went, “I say, old man, open the hamper, and put two bottles just
+within the smile of the fire.”
+
+He then went upstairs, and plunged his head in cold water, to clear his
+faculties for the encounter.
+
+The friends sat down to dinner, and afterward to the Madeira, both gay
+and genial outside, but within full of design--their object being to pump
+one another.
+
+In the encounter at Homburg, Ashmead had an advantage; Poikilus thought
+himself unknown to Ashmead. But this time there was a change. Poikilus
+knew by this time that La Klosking had gone to Vizard Court. How she had
+known Severne was there puzzled him a good deal; but he had ended by
+suspecting Ashmead, in a vague way.
+
+The parties, therefore, met on even terms. Ashmead resolved to learn what
+he could about Severne, and Poikilus to learn what he could about Zoe
+Vizard and Mademoiselle Klosking.
+
+Ashmead opened the ball: “Been long here?”
+
+“Just come.”
+
+“Business?”
+
+“Yes. Want to see if there's any chance of my getting paid for that job.”
+
+“What job?”
+
+“Why, the Homburg job. Look here--I don't know why I should have any
+secrets from a good fellow like you; only you must not tell anybody
+else.”
+
+“Oh, honor bright!”
+
+“Well, then, I am a detective.”
+
+“Ye don't mean that?”
+
+“I'm Poikilus.”
+
+“Good heavens! Well, I don't care. I haven't murdered anybody. Here's
+your health, Poikilus. I say, you could tell a tale or two.”
+
+“That I could. But I'm out of luck this time. The gentleman that employed
+me has mizzled, and he promised me fifty pounds. I came down here in
+hopes of finding him. Saw him once in this neighborhood.”
+
+“Well, you won't find him here, I don't think. You must excuse me, but
+your employer is a villain. He has knocked a lady down, and nearly killed
+her.”
+
+“You don't say that?”
+
+“Yes; that beautiful lady, the singer, you saw in Homburg.”
+
+“What! the lady that said he should have his money?”
+
+“The same.”
+
+“Why, he must be mad.”
+
+“No. A scoundrel. _That is all.”_
+
+“Then she won't give him his money after that.”
+
+“Not if I can help it. But if she likes to pay you your commission, I
+shall not object to that.”
+
+“You are a good fellow.”
+
+“What is more, I shall see her to-morrow, and I will put the question to
+her for you.”
+
+Poikilus was profuse in his thanks, and said he began to think it was his
+only chance. Then he had a misgiving. “I have no claim on the lady,” said
+he; “and I am afraid I have been a bad friend to her. I did not mean it,
+though, and the whole affair is dark to me.”
+
+“You are not very sharp, then, for a detective,” said Ashmead. “Well,
+shut your mouth and open your eyes. Your Mr. Severne was the lady's
+lover, and preyed upon her. He left her; she was fool enough to love him
+still, and pined for him. He is a gambler, and was gambling by my side
+when Mademoiselle Klosking came in; so he cut his lucky, and left me
+fifty pounds to play for him, and she put the pot on, and broke the bank.
+I didn't know who he was, but we found it out by his photograph. Then you
+came smelling after the money, and we sold you nicely, my fine detective.
+We made it our business to know where you wrote to--Vizard Court. She
+went down there, and found him just going to be married to a beautiful
+young lady. She collared him. He flung her down, and cut her temple
+open--nearly killed her. She lies ill in the house, and the other young
+lady is gone away broken-hearted.”
+
+“Where to?”
+
+“How should I know? What is that to you?”
+
+“Why don't you see? Wherever she is, he won't be far off. He likes her
+best, don't he?”
+
+“It don't follow that she likes him, now she has found him out. He had
+better not go after her, or he'll get a skinful of broken bones. My
+friend, Squire Vizard, is the man to make short work with him, if he
+caught the blackguard spooning after his sister.”
+
+“And serve him right. Still, I wish I knew where that young lady is.”
+
+“I dare say I could learn if I made it my business.”
+
+Having brought the matter to that point, Poikilus left it, and simply
+made himself agreeable. He told Ashmead his experiences; and as they
+were, many of them, strange and dramatic, he kept him a delighted
+listener till midnight.
+
+The next day Ashmead visited Mademoiselle Klosking, and found her walking
+up and down the room, with her hand on Miss Gale's shoulder.
+
+She withdrew into the embrasure, and had some confidential talk with him.
+As a matter of course, he told her about Poikilus, and that he was
+hunting down Severne for his money.
+
+“Indeed!” said the Klosking. “Please tell me every word that passed
+between you.”
+
+He did so, as nearly as he could remember.
+
+Mademoiselle Klosking leaned her brow upon her hand a considerable time
+in thought. Then she turned on Ashmead, and said, quietly, “That Poikilus
+is still acting for _him,_ and the one thing they desire to learn is
+where to find Miss Vizard, and delude her to her ruin.”
+
+“No, no,” cried Ashmead violently; but the next moment his countenance
+fell. “You are wiser than I am,” said he; “it may be. Confound the sneak!
+I'll give it him next time I see him! Why, he must love villainy for its
+own sake. I as good as said you would pay him his fifty pounds.”
+
+“What fifty pounds? His fifty pounds is a falsehood, like himself. Now,
+my friend, please take my instructions, my positive instructions.”
+
+“Yes, madam.”
+
+“You will not change your friendly manner: show no suspicion nor anger.
+If they are cunning, we must be wise; and the wise always keep their
+temper. You will say Miss Vizard has gone to Ireland, but to what part is
+only known to her brother. Tell him this, and be very free and
+communicative on all other subjects; for this alone has any importance
+now. As for me, I can easily learn where Somerville Villa is, and in a
+day or two shall send you to look after her. One thing is clear--I had
+better lose no time in recovering my strength. Well, my will is strong. I
+will lose no time--your arm, monsieur;” and she resumed her promenade.
+
+Ashmead, instructed as above, dined again with the detective; but out of
+revenge gave him but one bottle of Madeira. As they sipped it, he
+delivered a great many words; and in the middle of them said, “Oh,
+by-the-by, I asked after that poor young lady. Gone to Ireland, but they
+didn't know what part.”
+
+After dinner Ashmead went to the theater. When he came back Poikilus was
+gone.
+
+So did Wisdom baffle Cunning that time.
+
+But Cunning did not really leave the field: that very evening an aged
+man, in green spectacles, was inquiring about the postal arrangements to
+Vizard Court; and next day he might have been seen, in a back street of
+Taddington, talking to the village postman, and afterward drinking with
+him. It was Poikilus groping his way.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+A FEW words avail to describe the sluggish waters of the Dead Sea, but
+what pen can portray the Indian Ocean lashed and tormented by a cyclone?
+
+Even so a few words have sufficed to show that Ina Klosking's heart was
+all benumbed and deadened; and, with the help of insult, treachery, loss
+of blood, brain-fever, and self-esteem rebelling against villainy, had
+outlived its power of suffering poignant torture.
+
+But I cannot sketch in a few words, nor paint in many, the tempest of
+passion in Zoe Vizard. Yet it is my duty to try and give the reader some
+little insight into the agony, the changes, the fury, the grief, the
+tempest of passion, in a virgin heart; in such a nature, the great
+passions of the mind often rage as fiercely, or even more so, than in
+older and experienced women.
+
+Literally, Zoe Vizard loved Edward Severne one minute and hated him the
+next; gave him up for a traitor, and then vowed to believe nothing until
+she had heard his explanation; burned with ire at his silence, sickened
+with dismay at his silence. Then, for a while, love and faith would get
+the upper hand, and she would be quite calm. Why should she torment
+herself? An old sweetheart, abandoned long ago, had come between them; he
+had, unfortunately, done the woman an injury, in his wild endeavor to get
+away from her. Well, what business had she to use force? No doubt he was
+ashamed, afflicted at what he had done, being a man; or was in despair,
+seeing that lady installed in her brother's house, and _her_ story,
+probably a parcel of falsehoods, listened to.
+
+Then she would have a gleam of joy; for she knew he had not written to
+Ina Klosking. But soon Despondency came down like a dark cloud; for she
+said to herself, “He has left us both. He sees the woman he does not love
+will not let him have the one he does love; and so he has lost heart, and
+will have no more to say to either.”
+
+When her thoughts took this turn she would cry piteously; but not for
+long. She would dry her eyes, and burn with wrath all round; she would
+still hate her rival, but call her lover a coward--a contemptible coward.
+
+After her day of raging, and grieving, and doubting, and fearing, and
+hoping, and despairing, night overtook her with an exhausted body, a
+bleeding heart, and weeping eyes. She had been so happy--on the very
+brink of paradise; and now she was deserted. Her pillow was wet every
+night. She cried in her very sleep; and when she woke in the morning her
+body was always quivering; and in the very act of waking came a horror,
+and an instinctive reluctance to face the light that was to bring another
+day of misery.
+
+Such is a fair, though loose, description of her condition.
+
+The slight fillip given to her spirits by the journey did her a morsel of
+good, but it died away. Having to nurse Aunt Maitland did her a little
+good at first. But she soon relapsed into herself, and became so
+_distraite_ that Aunt Maitland, who was all self, being an invalid, began
+to speak sharply to her.
+
+On the second day of her visit to Somerville Villa, as she sat brooding
+at the foot of her aunt's bed, suddenly she heard horses' feet, and then
+a ring at the hall-door. Her heart leaped. Perhaps he had come to explain
+all. He might not choose to go to Vizard Court. What if he had been
+watching as anxiously as herself, and had seized the first opportunity!
+In a moment her pale cheek rivaled carmine.
+
+The girl brought up a card--
+
+“LORD UXMOOR.”
+
+The color died away directly. “Say I am very sorry, but at this moment I
+cannot leave my aunt.”
+
+The girl stared with amazement, and took down the message.
+
+Uxmoor rode away.
+
+Zoe felt a moment's pleasure. No, if she could not see the right man, she
+would not see the wrong. That, at least, was in her power.
+
+Nevertheless, in the course of the day, remembering Uxmoor's worth, and
+the pain she had already given him, she was almost sorry she had indulged
+herself at his expense.
+
+Superfluous contrition! He came next day, as a matter of course. She
+liked him none the better for coming, but she went downstairs to him.
+
+He came toward her, but started back and uttered an exclamation. “You are
+not well,” he said, in tones of tenderness and dismay.
+
+“Not very,” she faltered; for his open manly concern touched her.
+
+“And you have come here to nurse this old lady? Indeed, Miss Vizard, you
+need nursing yourself. You know it is some time since I had the pleasure
+of seeing you, and the change is alarming. May I send you Dr. Atkins, my
+mother's physician?”
+
+“I am much obliged to you. No.”
+
+“Oh, I forgot. You have a physician of your own sex. Why is she not
+looking after you?”
+
+“Miss Gale is better employed. She is at Vizard Court in attendance on a
+far more brilliant person--Mademoiselle Klosking, a professional singer.
+Perhaps you know her?”
+
+“I saw her at Homburg.”
+
+“Well, she met with an accident in our hall--a serious one; and
+Harrington took her in, and has placed all his resources--his lady
+physician and all--at her service: he is so fond of _Music.”_
+
+A certain satirical bitterness peered through these words, but honest
+Uxmoor did not notice it. He said, “Then I wish you would let me be your
+doctor--for want of a better.”
+
+“And you think _you_ can cure me?” said Zoe, satirically.
+
+“It does seem presumptuous. But, at least, I could do you a little good
+if you could be got to try my humble prescription.”
+
+“What is it?” asked Zoe, listlessly.
+
+“It is my mare Phillis. She is the delight of every lady who mounts her.
+She is thorough-bred, lively, swift, gentle, docile, amiable, perfect.
+Ride her on these downs an hour or two very day. I'll send her over
+to-morrow. May I?”
+
+“If you like. Rosa _would_ pack up my riding-habit.”
+
+“Rosa was a prophetess.”
+
+
+Next day came Phillis, saddled and led by a groom on horseback, and
+Uxmoor soon followed on an old hunter. He lifted Zoe to her saddle, and
+away they rode, the groom following at a respectful distance.
+
+When they got on the downs they had a delightful canter; but Zoe, in her
+fevered state of mind, was not content with that. She kept increasing the
+pace, till the old hunter could no longer live with the young filly; and
+she galloped away from Lord Uxmoor, and made him ridiculous in the eyes
+of his groom.
+
+The truth is, she wanted to get away from him.
+
+He drew the rein, and stood stock-still. She made a circuit of a mile,
+and came up to him with heightened color and flashing eyes, looking
+beautiful.
+
+“Well?” said she. “Don't you like galloping?”
+
+“Yes, but I don't like cruelty.”
+
+“Cruelty?”
+
+“Look at the mare's tail how it is quivering, and her flanks panting! And
+no wonder. You have been over twice the Derby course at a racing pace.
+Miss Vizard, a horse is not a steam engine.”
+
+“I'll never ride her again,” said Zoe. “I did not come here to be
+scolded. I will go home.”
+
+They walked slowly home in silence. Uxmoor hardly knew what to say to
+her; but at last he murmured, apologetically, “Never mind the poor mare,
+if you are better for galloping her.”
+
+She waited a moment before she spoke, and then she said, “Well, yes; I am
+better. I'm better for my ride, and better for my scolding. Good-by.”
+ (Meaning forever.)
+
+“Good-by,” said he, in the same tone. Only he sent the mare next day, and
+followed her on a young thorough-bred.
+
+“What!” said Zoe; “am I to have another trial?”
+
+“And another after that.”
+
+So this time she would only canter very slowly, and kept stopping every
+now and then to inquire, satirically, if that would distress the mare.
+
+But Uxmoor was too good-humored to quarrel for nothing. He only laughed,
+and said, “You are not the only lady who takes a horse for a machine.”
+
+These rides did her bodily health some permanent good; but their effect
+on her mind was fleeting. She was in fair spirits when she was actually
+bounding through the air, but she collapsed afterward.
+
+At first, when she used to think that Severne never came near her, and
+Uxmoor was so constant, she almost hated Uxmoor--so little does the wrong
+man profit by doing the right thing for a woman. I admit that, though not
+a deadly woman-hater myself.
+
+But by-and-by she was impartially bitter against them both; the wrong man
+for doing the right thing, and the right man for not doing it.
+
+As the days rolled by, and Severne did not appear, her indignation and
+wounded pride began to mount above her love. A beautiful woman counts
+upon pursuit, and thinks a man less than man if he does not love her well
+enough to find her, though hid in the caves of ocean or the labyrinths of
+Bermondsey.
+
+She said to herself, “Then he has no explanation to offer. Another woman
+has frightened him away from me. I have wasted my affections on a
+coward.” Her bosom boiled with love, and contempt, and wounded pride; and
+her mind was tossed to and fro like a leaf in a storm. She began, by
+force of will, to give Uxmoor some encouragement; only, after it she
+writhed and wept.
+
+At last, finding herself driven to and fro like a leaf, she told Miss
+Maitland all, and sought counsel of her. She must have something to lean
+on.
+
+The old lady was better by this time, and spoke kindly to her. She said
+Mr. Severne was charming, and she was not bound to give him up because
+another lady had past claims on him. But it appeared to her that Mr.
+Severne himself had deserted her. He had not written to her. Probably he
+knew something that had not yet transpired, and had steeled himself to
+the separation for good reasons. It was a decision she must accept. Let
+her then consider how forlorn is the condition of most deserted women
+compared with hers. Here was a devoted lover, whom she esteemed, and who
+could offer her a high position and an honest love. If she had a mother,
+that mother would almost force her to engage herself at once to Lord
+Uxmoor. Having no mother, the best thing she could do would be to force
+herself--to say some irrevocable words, and never look back. It was the
+lot of her sex not to marry the first love, and to be all the happier in
+the end for that disappointment, though at the time it always seemed
+eternal.
+
+All this, spoken in a voice of singular kindness by one who used to be so
+sharp, made Zoe's tears flow gently and somewhat cooled her raging heart.
+
+She began now to submit, and only cry at intervals, and let herself
+drift; and Uxmoor visited her every day, and she found it impossible not
+to esteem and regard him. Nevertheless, one afternoon, just about his
+time, she was seized with such an aversion to his courtship, and such a
+revolt against the slope she seemed gliding down, that she flung on her
+bonnet and shawl, and darted out of the house to escape him. She said to
+the servant, “I am gone for a walk, if anybody calls.”
+
+Uxmoor did call, and, receiving this message, he bit his lip, sent the
+horse home and walked up to the windmill, on the chance of seeing her
+anywhere. He had already observed she was never long in one mood; and as
+he was always in the same mind, he thought perhaps he might be tolerably
+welcome, if he could meet her unexpected.
+
+Meantime Zoe walked very fast to get away from the house as soon as
+possible, and she made a round of nearly five miles, walking through two
+villages, and on her return lost her way. However, a shepherd showed her
+a bridle-road which, he told her, would soon take her to Somerville
+Villa, through “the small pastures;” and, accordingly, she came into a
+succession of meadows not very large. They were all fenced and gated; but
+the gates were only shut, not locked. This was fortunate; for they were
+new five-barred gates, and a lady does not like getting over these, even
+in solitude. Her clothes are not adapted.
+
+There were sheep in some of these, cows in others, and the pastures
+wonderfully green and rich, being always well manured, and fed down by
+cattle.
+
+Zoe's love of color was soothed by these emerald fields, dotted with
+white sheep and red cows.
+
+In the last field, before the lane that led to the village, a single
+beast was grazing. Zoe took no notice of him, and walked on; but he took
+wonderful notice of her, and stared, then gave a disagreeable snort. He
+took offense at her Indian shawl, and, after pawing the ground and
+erecting his tail, he came straight at her at a tearing trot, and his
+tail out behind him.
+
+Zoe saw, and screamed violently, and ran for the gate ahead, which, of
+course, was a few yards further from her than the gate behind. She ran
+for her life; but the bull, when he saw that, broke into a gallop
+directly, and came up fast with her. She could not escape.
+
+At that moment a man vaulted clean over the gate, tore a pitchfork out of
+a heap of dung that luckily stood in the corner, and boldly confronted
+the raging bull just in time; for at that moment Zoe lost heart, and
+crouched, screaming, in the side ditch, with her hands before her eyes.
+
+The new-comer, rash as his conduct seemed, was country-bred and knew what
+he was about: he drove one of the prongs clean through the great
+cartilage of the bull's mouth, and was knocked down like a nine-pin, with
+the broken staff of the pitch-fork in his hand; and the bull reared in
+the air with agony, the prong having gone clean through his upper lip in
+two places, and fastened itself, as one fastens a pin, in that leathery
+but sensitive organ.
+
+Now Uxmoor was a university athlete; he was no sooner down than up. So,
+when the bull came down from his rearing, and turned to massacre his
+assailant, he was behind him, and seizing his tail, twisted it, and
+delivered a thundering blow on his backbone, and followed it up by a
+shower of them on his ribs. “Run to the gate, Zoe!” he roared. Whack!
+whack! whack!--“Run to the gate, I tell
+you!”--whack!--whack!--whack!--whack!--whack!
+
+Thus ordered, Zoe Vizard, who would not have moved of herself, being in a
+collapse of fear, scudded to the gate, got on the right side of it, and
+looked over, with two eyes like saucers. She saw a sight incredible to
+her. Instead of letting the bull alone, now she was safe, Uxmoor was
+sticking to him like a ferret. The bull ran, tossing his nose with pain
+and bellowing: Uxmoor dragged by the tail and compelled to follow in
+preposterous, giant strides, barely touching the ground with the point of
+his toe, pounded the creature's ribs with such blows as Zoe had never
+dreamed possible. They sounded like flail on wooden floor, and each blow
+was accompanied with a loud jubilant shout. Presently, being a five's
+player, and ambidexter, he shifted his hand, and the tremendous whacks
+resounded on the bull's left side. The bull, thus belabored, and
+resounding like the big drum, made a circuit of the field, but found it
+all too hot: he knew his way to a certain quiet farmyard; he bolted, and
+came bang at Zoe once more, with furious eyes and gore-distilling
+nostrils.
+
+But this time she was on the right side of the gate.
+
+Yet she drew back in dismay as the bull drew near: and she was right;
+for, in his agony and amazement, the unwieldy but sinewy brute leaped the
+five-barred gate, and cleared it all but the top rail; that he burst
+through, as if it had been paper, and dragged Uxmoor after him, and
+pulled him down, and tore him some yards along the hard road on his back,
+and bumped his head against a stone, and so got rid of him: then pounded
+away down the lane, snorting, and bellowing, and bleeding; the prong
+still stuck through his nostrils like a pin.
+
+Zoe ran to Uxmoor with looks of alarm and tender concern, and lifted his
+head to her tender bosom; for his clothes were torn, and his cheeks and
+hands bleeding. But he soon shook off his confusion, and rose without
+assistance.
+
+“Have you got over your fright?” said he; “that is the question.”
+
+“Oh yes! yes! It is only you I am alarmed for. It is much better I should
+be killed than you.”
+
+“Killed! I never had better fun in my life. It was glorious. I stuck to
+him, and hit--there, I have not had anything I could hit as hard as I
+wanted to, since I used to fight with my cousin Jack at Eton. Oh, Miss
+Vizard, it was a whirl of Elysium! But I am sorry you were frightened.
+Let me take you home.”
+
+“Oh, yes, but not that way; that is the way the monster went!” quivered
+Zoe.
+
+“Oh, he has had enough of us.”
+
+“But I have had too much of him. Take me some other road--a hundred miles
+round. How I tremble!”
+
+“So you do. Take my arm.--No, putting the tips of your fingers on it is
+no use; take it really--you want support. Be courageous, now--we are very
+near home.”
+
+Zoe trembled, and cried a little, to conclude the incident, but walked
+bravely home on Uxmoor's arm.
+
+In the hall at Somerville Villa she saw him change color, and insisted on
+his taking some port wine.
+
+“I shall be very glad,” said he.
+
+A decanter was brought. He filled a large tumbler and drank it off like
+water.
+
+This was the first intimation he gave Zoe that he was in pain, and his
+nerves hard tried; nor did she indeed arrive at that conclusion until he
+had left her.
+
+Of course, she carried all this to Aunt Maitland. That lady was quite
+moved by the adventure. She sat up in bed, and listened with excitement
+and admiration. She descanted on Lord Uxmoor's courage and chivalry, and
+congratulated Zoe that such a pearl of manhood had fallen at her feet.
+“Why, child,” said she, “surely, after this, you will not hesitate
+between this gentleman and a beggarly adventurer, who has nothing, not
+even the courage of a man. Turn your back on all such rubbish, and be the
+queen of the county. I'd be content to die to-morrow if I could see you
+Countess of Uxmoor.”
+
+“You shall live, and see it, dear aunt,” said Zoe, kissing her.
+
+“Well,” said Miss Maitland, “if anything can cure me, that will. And
+really,” said she, “I feel better ever since that brave fellow began to
+bring you to your senses.”
+
+Admiration and gratitude being now added to esteem, Zoe received Lord
+Uxmoor next day with a certain timidity and half tenderness she had never
+shown before; and, as he was by nature a rapid wooer, he saw his chance,
+and stayed much longer than usual, and at last hazarded a hope that he
+might be allowed to try and win her heart.
+
+Thereupon she began to fence, and say that love was all folly. He had her
+esteem and her gratitude, and it would be better for both of them to
+confine their sentiments within those rational bounds.
+
+“That I cannot do,” said Uxmoor; “so I must ask your leave to be
+ambitious. Let me try and conquer your affection.”
+
+“As you conquered the bull?”
+
+“Yes; only not so rudely, nor so quickly, I'll be bound.”
+
+“Well, I don't know why I should object. I esteem you more than anybody
+in the world. You are my beau ideal of a man. If you can _make_ me love
+you, all the better for me. Only, I am afraid you cannot.”
+
+“May I try?”
+
+“Yes,” said Zoe, bushing carnation.
+
+“May I come every day?”
+
+“Twice a day, if you like.”
+
+“I think I shall succeed--in time.”
+
+“I hope you may.”
+
+Then he kissed her hand devotedly--the first time in his life--and went
+away on wings.
+
+Zoe flew up to her aunt Maitland, flushed and agitated. “Aunt, I am as
+good as engaged to him. I have said such unguarded things. I'm sure _he_
+will understand it that I consent to receive his addresses as my lover.
+Not that I really said so.”
+
+“I hope,” said Aunt Maitland, “that you have committed yourself somehow
+or other, and cannot go back.”
+
+“I think I have. Yes; it is all over. I cannot go back now.”
+
+Then she burst out crying. Then she was near choking, and had to smell
+her aunt's salts, while still the tears ran fast.
+
+Miss Maitland received this with perfect composure. She looked on them as
+the last tears of regret given to a foolish attachment at the moment of
+condemning it forever. She was old, and had seen these final tears shed
+by more than one loving woman just before entering on her day of
+sunshine.
+
+And now Zoe must be alone, and vent her swelling heart. She tied a
+handkerchief round her head and darted into the garden. She went round
+and round it with fleet foot and beating pulses.
+
+The sun began to decline, and a cold wind to warn her in. She came, for
+the last time, to a certain turn of the gravel walk, where there was a
+little iron gate leading into the wooded walk from the meadows.
+
+At that gate she found a man. She started back, and leaned against the
+nearest tree, with her hands behind her.
+
+It was Edward Severne--all in black, and pale as death; but not paler
+than her own face turned in a moment.
+
+Indeed, they looked at each other like two ghosts.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+ZOE was the first to speak, or rather to gasp. “Why do you come here?”
+
+“Because _you_ are here.”
+
+“And how dare you come where I am?--now your falsehood is found out and
+flung into my very face!”
+
+“I have never been false to you. At this moment I suffer for my
+fidelity.”
+
+_“You_ suffer? I am glad of it. How?”
+
+“In many ways: but they are all light, compared with my fear of losing
+your love.”
+
+“I will listen to no idle words,” said Zoe sternly. “A lady claimed you
+before my face; why did you not stand firm like a man, and say, 'You have
+no claim on me now; I have a right to love another, and I do?' Why did
+you fly?--because you were guilty.”
+
+“No,” said he, doggedly. “Surprised and confounded, but not guilty. Fool!
+idiot! that I was. I lost my head entirely. Yes, it is hopeless. You
+_must_ despise me. You have a right to despise me.”
+
+“Don't tell me,” said Zoe: “you never lose your head. You are always
+self-possessed and artful. Would to Heaven I had never seen you!” She was
+violent.
+
+He gave her time. “Zoe,” said he, after a while, “if I had not lost my
+head, should I have ill-treated a lady and nearly killed her?”
+
+“Ah!” said Zoe, sharply, “that is what you have been suffering
+from--remorse. And well you may. You ought to go back to her, and ask her
+pardon on your knees. Indeed, it is all you have left to do now.”
+
+“I know I ought.”
+
+“Then do what you ought. Good-by.”
+
+“I cannot. I hate her.”
+
+“What, because you have broken her heart, and nearly killed her?”
+
+“No; but because she has come between me and the only woman I ever really
+loved, or ever can.”
+
+“She would not have done that if you had not given her the right. I see
+her now; she looked justice, and you looked guilt. Words are idle, when I
+can see her face before me still. No woman could look like that who was
+in the wrong. But you--guilt made you a coward: you were false to her and
+false to me; and so you ran away from us both. You would have talked
+either of us over, alone; but we were together: so you ran away. You have
+found me alone now, so you are brave again; but it is too late. I am
+undeceived. I decline to rob Mademoiselle Klosking of her lover; so
+good-by.”
+
+And this time she was really going, but he stopped her. “At least don't
+go with a falsehood on your lips,” said he, coldly.
+
+“A falsehood!--Me!”
+
+“Yes, it is a falsehood. How can you pretend I left that lady for you,
+when you know my connection with her had entirely ceased ten months
+before I ever saw your face?”
+
+This staggered Zoe a moment; so did the heat and sense of injustice he
+threw into his voice.
+
+“I forgot that,” said she, naively. Then, recovering herself, “You may
+have parted with her; but it does not follow that she consented. Fickle
+men desert constant women. It is done every day.”
+
+“You are mistaken again,” said he. “When I first saw you, I had ceased to
+think of Mademoiselle Klosking; but it was not so when I first left her.
+I did not desert her. I tore myself from her. I had a great affection for
+her.”
+
+“You dare to tell me that. Well, at all events, it is the truth. Why did
+you leave her, then?”
+
+“Out of self-respect. I was poor, she was rich and admired. Men sent her
+bouquets and bracelets, and flattered her behind the scenes, and I was
+lowered in my own eyes: so I left her. I was unhappy for a time; but I
+had my pride to support me, and the wound was healed long before I knew
+what it was to love, really to love.”
+
+There was nothing here that Zoe could contradict. She kept silence, and
+was mystified.
+
+Then she attacked him on another quarter. “Have you written to her since
+you behaved like a ruffian to her?”
+
+“No. And I never will, come what may. It is wicked of me; but I hate her.
+I am compelled to esteem her. But I hate her.”
+
+Zoe could quite understand that; but in spite of that she said, “Of
+course you do. Men always hate those they have used ill. Why did you not
+write to _me?_ Had a mind to be impartial, I suppose?”
+
+“I had reason to believe it would have been intercepted.”
+
+“For shame! Vizard is incapable of such a thing.”
+
+“Ah, you don't know how he is changed. He looks on me as a mad dog.
+Consider, Zoe: do, pray, take the real key to it all. He is in love with
+Mademoiselle Klosking, madly in love with her: and I have been so
+unfortunate as to injure her--nearly to kill her. I dare say he thinks it
+is on your account he hates me; but men deceive themselves. It is for
+_her_ he hates me.”
+
+“Oh!”
+
+“Ay. Think for a moment, and you will see it is. _You_ are not in his
+confidence. I am sure he has never told _you_ that he ordered his keepers
+to shoot me down if I came about the house at night.”
+
+“Oh no, no!” cried Zoe.
+
+“Do you know he has raised the country against me, and has warrants out
+against me for forgery, because I was taken in by a rogue who gave me
+bills with sham names on them, and I got Vizard to cash them? As soon as
+we found out how I had been tricked, my uncle and I offered at once to
+pay him back his money. But no! he prefers to keep the bills as a
+weapon.”
+
+Zoe began to be puzzled a little. But she said, “You have been a long
+time discovering all these grievances. Why have you held no communication
+all this time?”
+
+“Because you were inaccessible. Does not your own heart tell you that I
+have been all these weeks trying to communicate, and unable? Why, I came
+three times under your window at night, and you never, never would look
+out.”
+
+“I did look out ever so often.”
+
+“If I had been you, I should have looked ten thousand times. I only left
+off coming when I heard the keepers were ordered to shoot me down. Not
+that I should have cared much, for I am desperate. But I had just sense
+enough left to see that, if my dead body had been brought bleeding into
+your hall some night, none of you would ever have been happy again. Your
+eyes would have been opened, all of you. Well, Zoe, you left Vizard
+Court; that I learned: but it was only this morning I could find out
+where you were gone: and you see I am here--with a price upon my head.
+Please read Vizard's advertisements.”
+
+She took them and read them. A hot flush mounted to her cheek.
+
+“You see,” said he, “I am to be imprisoned if I set my foot in
+Barfordshire. Well, it will be false imprisonment, and Mademoiselle
+Klosking's lover will smart for it. At all events, I shall take no orders
+but from you. You have been deceived by appearances. I shall do all I can
+to undeceive you, and if I cannot, there will be no need to imprison me
+for a deceit of which I was the victim, nor to shoot me like a dog for
+loving _you._ I will take my broken heart quietly away, and leave
+Barfordshire, and England, and the world, for aught I care.”
+
+Then he cried: and that made her cry directly.
+
+“Ah!” she sighed, “we are unfortunate. Appearances are so deceitful. I
+see I have judged too hastily, and listened too little to my own heart,
+that always made excuses. But it is too late now.”
+
+“Why too late?”
+
+“It is.”
+
+“But why?”
+
+“It all looked so ugly, and you were silent. We are unfortunate. My
+brother would never let us marry; and, besides--Oh, why did you not come
+before?”
+
+“I might as well say, Why did you not look out of your window? You could
+have done it without risking your life, as I did. Or why did you not
+advertise. You might have invited an explanation from 'E. S.,' under
+cover to so-and-so.”
+
+“Ladies never think of such things. You know that very well.”
+
+“Oh, I don't complain; but I do say that those who love should not be
+ready to reproach; they should put a generous construction. You might
+have known, and you ought to have known, that I was struggling to find
+you, and torn with anguish at my impotence.”
+
+“No, no. I am so young and inexperienced, and all my friends against you.
+It is they who have parted us.”
+
+“How can they part us, if you love me still as I love you?”
+
+“Because for the last fortnight I have not loved you, but hated you, and
+doubted you, and thought my only chance of happiness was to imitate your
+indifference: and while I was thinking so, another person has come
+forward; one whom I have always esteemed: and now, in my pity and
+despair, I have given him hopes.” She hid her burning face in her hands.
+
+“I see; you are false to me, and therefore you have suspected me of being
+false to you.”
+
+At that she raised her head high directly. “Edward, you are unjust. Look
+in my face, and you may see what I have suffered before I could bring
+myself to condemn you.”
+
+“What! your paleness, that dark rim under your lovely eyes--am I the
+cause?”
+
+“Indeed you are. But I forgive you. You are sadly pale and worn too. Oh,
+how unfortunate we are!”
+
+“Do not cry, dearest,” said he. “Do not despair. Be calm, and let me know
+the worst. I will not reproach you, though you have reproached me. I love
+you as no woman can love. Come, tell me.”
+
+“Then the truth is, Lord Uxmoor has renewed his attention to me.”
+
+“Ah!”
+
+“He has been here every day.”
+
+Severne groaned.
+
+“Aunt Maitland was on his side, and spoke so kindly to me, and he saved
+my life from a furious bull. He is brave, noble, good, and he loves me. I
+have committed myself. I cannot draw back with honor.”
+
+“But from me you can, because I am poor and hated, and have no title. If
+you are committed to him, you are engaged to me.”
+
+“I am; so now I can go neither way. If I had poison, I would take it this
+moment, and end all.”
+
+“For God's sake, don't talk so. I am sure you exaggerate. You cannot, in
+those few days, have pledged your faith to another. Let me see your
+finger. Ah! there's my ring on it still: bless you, my own darling
+Zoe--bless you;” and he covered her hand with kisses, and bedewed it with
+his ever-ready tears.
+
+The girl began to melt, and all power to ooze out of her, mind and body.
+She sighed deeply and said, “What can I do--I don't say with honor and
+credit, but with decency. What _can_ I do?”
+
+“Tell me, first, what you have said to him that you consider so
+compromising.”
+
+Zoe, with many sighs, replied: “I believe--I said--I was unhappy. And so
+I was. And I owned--that I admired--and esteemed him. And so I do. And
+then of course he wanted more, and I could not give more; and he asked
+might he try and make me love him; and--I said--I am afraid I said--he
+might, if he could.”
+
+“And a very proper answer, too.”
+
+“Ah! but I said he might come every day. It is idle to deceive ourselves:
+I have encouraged his addresses. I can do nothing now with credit but
+die, or go into a convent.”
+
+“When did you say this?”
+
+“This very day.”
+
+“Then he has never acted on it.”
+
+“No, but he will. He will be here tomorrow for certain.”
+
+“Then your course is plain. You must choose to-night between him and me.
+You must dismiss him by letter, or me upon this spot. I have not much
+fortune to offer you, and no coronet; but I love you, and you have seen
+me reject a lovely and accomplished woman, whom I esteem as much as you
+do this lord. Reject him? Why, you have seen me fling her away from me
+like a dog sooner than leave you in a moment's doubt of my love: if you
+cannot write a civil note declining an earl for me, your love in not
+worthy of mine, and I will begone with my love. I will not take it to
+Mademoiselle Klosking, though I esteem her as you do this lord; but, at
+all events, I will take it away from you, and leave you my curse instead,
+for a false, fickle girl that could not wait one little month, but must
+fall, with her engaged ring on her finger, into another man's arms. Oh,
+Zoe! Zoe! who could have believed this of you?”
+
+“Don't reproach _me._ I won't bear it,” she cried, wildly.
+
+“I hope not to have to reproach you,” said he, firmly; “I cannot conceive
+your hesitating.”
+
+“I am worn out. Love has been too great a torment. Oh, if I could find
+peace!”
+
+Again her tears flowed.
+
+He put on a sympathizing air. “You shall have peace. Dismiss _him_ as I
+tell you, and he will trouble you no more; shake hands with me, and say
+you prefer _him,_ and I will trouble you no more. But with two lovers,
+peace is out of the question, and so is self-respect. I know I could not
+vacillate between you and Mademoiselle Klosking or any other woman.”
+
+“Ah, Edward, if I do this, you ought to love me very dearly.”
+
+“I shall. Better than ever--if possible.”
+
+“And never make me jealous again.”
+
+“I never shall, dearest. Our troubles are over.”
+
+“Edward, I have been very unhappy. I could not bear these doubts again.”
+
+“You shall never be unhappy again.”
+
+“I must do what you require, I suppose. That is how it always ends. Oh
+dear! oh dear!”
+
+“Zoe, it must be done. You know it must.”
+
+“I warn you I shall do it as kindly as I can.”
+
+“Of course you will. You ought to.”
+
+“I must go in now. I feel very cold.”
+
+“How soon to-morrow will you meet me here?”
+
+“When you please,” said she, languidly.
+
+“At ten o'clock?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+Then there was a tender parting, and Zoe went slowly in. She went to her
+own room, just to think it all over alone. She caught sight of her face
+in the glass. Her cheeks had regained color, and her eyes were bright as
+stars. She stopped and looked at herself. “There now,” said she, “and I
+seem to myself to live again. I was mad to think I could ever love any
+man but him. He is my darling, my idol.”
+
+
+There was no late dinner at Somerville Villa. Indeed, ladies, left to
+themselves, seldom dine late. Nature is strong in them, and they are
+hungriest when the sun is high. At seven o'clock Zoe Vizard was seated at
+her desk trying to write to Lord Uxmoor. She sighed, she moaned, she
+began, and dropped the pen and hid her face. She became almost wild; and
+in that state she at last dashed off what follows:
+
+
+“DEAR LORD UXMOOR--For pity's sake, forgive the mad words I said to you
+today. It is impossible. I can do no more than admire and esteem you. My
+heart is gone from me forever. Pray forgive me, though I do not deserve
+it; and never see me nor look at me again. I ask pardon for my
+vacillation. It has been disgraceful; but it has ended, and I was under a
+great error, which I cannot explain to you, when I led you to believe I
+had a heart to give you. My eyes are opened. Our paths lie asunder. Pray,
+pray forgive me, if it is possible. I will never forgive myself, nor
+cease to bless and revere you, whom I have used so ill.
+
+“ZOE VIZARD.”
+
+
+That day Uxmoor dined alone with his mother, for a wonder, and he told
+her how Miss Vizard had come round; he told her also about the bull, but
+so vilely that she hardly comprehended he had been in any danger: these
+encounters are rarely described to the life, except by us who avoid
+them--except on paper.
+
+Lady Uxmoor was much pleased. She was a proud, politic lady, and this was
+a judicious union of two powerful houses in the county, and one that
+would almost command the elections. But, above all, she knew her son's
+heart was in the match, and she gave him a mother's sympathy.
+
+As she retired, she kissed him and said, “When you are quite sure of the
+prize, tell me, and I will call upon her.”
+
+Being alone, Lord Uxmoor lighted a cigar and smoked it in measureless
+content. The servant brought him a note on a salver. It had come by hand.
+Uxmoor opened it and read every word straight through, down to “Zoe
+Vizard;” read it, and sat petrified.
+
+He read it again. He felt a sort of sickness come over him. He swallowed
+a tumbler of port, a wine he rarely touched; but he felt worse now than
+after the bullfight. This done, he rose and stalked like a wounded lion
+into the drawing-room, which was on the same floor, and laid the letter
+before his mother.
+
+“You are a woman too,” said he, a little helplessly. “Tell me--what on
+earth does this mean?”
+
+The dowager read it slowly and keenly, and said, “It means--another man.”
+
+“Ah!” said Uxmoor, with a sort of snarl.
+
+“Have you seen any one about her?”
+
+“No; not lately. At Vizard Court there was. But that is all over now, I
+conclude. It was a Mr. Severne, an adventurer, a fellow that was caught
+out in a lie before us all. Vizard tells me a lady came and claimed him
+before Miss Vizard, and he ran away.”
+
+“An unworthy attachment, in short?”
+
+“Very unworthy, if it was an attachment at all.”
+
+“Was he at Vizard Court when she declined your hand?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Did he remain, after you went?”
+
+“I suppose so. Yes, he must have.”
+
+“Then the whole thing is clear: that man has come forward again
+unexpectedly, or written, and she dismisses you. My darling, there is but
+one thing for you to do. Leave her, and thank her for telling you in
+time. A less honorable fool would have hidden it, and then we might have
+had a Countess of Uxmoor in the Divorce Court some day or other.
+
+“I had better go abroad,” said Uxmoor, with a groan. “This country is
+poisoned for me.”
+
+“Go, by all means. Let Janneway pack up your things to-morrow.”
+
+“I should like to kill that fellow first.”
+
+“You will not even waste a thought on him, if you are my son.”
+
+“You are right, mother. What am I to say to her?”
+
+“Not a word.”
+
+“What, not answer her letter? It is humble enough, I am sure--poor soul!
+Mother, I am wretched, but I am not bitter, and my rival will revenge
+me.”
+
+“Uxmoor, your going abroad is the only answer she shall have. The wisest
+man, in these matters, who ever lived has left a rule of conduct to every
+well-born man--a rule which, believe me, is wisdom itself:
+
+“Le bruit est pour le fat, la plainte est pour le sot; L'honnete homme
+trompe'; s'e'loigne, et ne dit mot.”
+
+“You will make a tour, and not say a word to Miss Vizard, good, bad, nor
+indifferent. I insist upon that.”
+
+“Very well. Thank you, dear mother; you guide me, and don't let me make a
+fool of myself, for I am terribly cut up. You will be the only Countess
+of Uxmoor in my day.”
+
+Then he knelt at her feet, and she kissed his head and cried over him;
+but her tears only made this proud lady stronger.
+
+Next day he started on his travels.
+
+Now, but for Zoe, he would on no account have left England just then; for
+he was just going to build model cottages in his own village, upon
+designs of his own, each with a little plot, and a public warehouse or
+granary, with divisions for their potatoes and apples, etc. However, he
+turned this over in his mind while he was packing; he placed certain
+plans and papers in his dispatch box, and took his ticket to Taddington,
+instead of going at once to London. From Taddington he drove over to
+Hillstoke and asked for Miss Gale. They told him she was fixed at Vizard
+Court. That vexed him: he did not want to meet Vizard. He thought it the
+part of a Jerry Sneak to go and howl to a brother against his sister. Yet
+if Vizard questioned him, how could he conceal there was something wrong?
+However, he went down to Vizard Court; but said to the servant who opened
+the door, “I am rather in a hurry, sir: do you think you could procure me
+a few minutes with Miss Gale? You need not trouble Mr. Vizard.”
+
+“Yes, my laud. Certainly, my laud. Please step in the morning-room, my
+laud. Mr. Vizard is out.”
+
+That was fortunate, and Miss Gale came down to him directly.
+
+Fanny took that opportunity to chatter and tell Mademoiselle Klosking all
+about Lord Uxmoor and his passion for Zoe. “And he will have her, too,”
+ said she, boldly.
+
+Lord Uxmoor told Miss Gale he had called upon business. He was obliged to
+leave home for a time, and wished to place his projects under the care of
+a person who could really sympathize with them, and make additions to
+them, if necessary. “Men,” said he, “are always making oversights in
+matters of domestic comfort: besides, you are full of ideas. I want you
+to be viceroy with full power, and act just as you would if the village
+belonged to you.”
+
+Rhoda colored high at the compliment.
+
+“Wells, cows, granary, real education--what you like” said he. “I know
+your mind. Begin abolishing the lower orders in the only way they can be
+got rid of--by raising them in comfort, cleanliness, decency, and
+knowledge. Then I shall not be missed. I'm going abroad.”
+
+“Going abroad?”
+
+“Yes. Here are my plans: alter them for the better if you can. All the
+work to be done by the villagers. Weekly wages. We buy materials. They
+will be more reconciled to improved dwellings when they build them
+themselves. Here are the addresses of the people who will furnish money.
+It will entail traveling; but my people will always meet you at the
+station, if you telegraph from Taddington. You accept? A thousand thanks.
+I am afraid I must be off.”
+
+She went into the hall with him, half bewildered, and only at the door
+found time to ask after Zoe Vizard.
+
+“A little better, I think, than when she came.”
+
+“Does she know you are going abroad?”
+
+“No; I don't think she does, yet. It was settled all in a hurry.”
+
+He escaped further questioning by hurrying away.
+
+Miss Gale was still looking after him, when Ina Klosking came down,
+dressed for a walk, and leaning lightly on Miss Dover's arm. This was by
+previous consent of Miss Gale.
+
+“Well, dear,” said Fanny, “what did he say to you?”
+
+“Something that has surprised and puzzled me very much.” She then related
+the whole conversation, with her usual precision.
+
+Ina Klosking observed quietly to Fanny that this did not look like
+successful wooing.
+
+“I don't know that,” said Fanny, stoutly. “Oh, Miss Gale, did you not ask
+him about her?”
+
+“Certainly I did; and he said she was better than when she first came.”
+
+“There!” said Fanny, triumphantly.
+
+Miss Gale gave her a little pinch, and she dropped the subject.
+
+Vizard returned, and found Mademoiselle Klosking walking on his gravel.
+He offered her his arm, and was a happy man, parading her very slowly,
+and supporting her steps, and purring his congratulations into her ear.
+“Suppose I were to invite you to dinner, what would you say?”
+
+“I think I should say, 'To-morrow.'”
+
+“And a very good answer, too. To-morrow shall be a _fete.”_
+
+“You spoil me?”
+
+“That is impossible.”
+
+It was strange to see them together; he so happy, she so apathetic, yet
+gracious.
+
+Next morning came a bit of human nature--a letter from Zoe to Fanny,
+almost entirely occupied with praises of Lord Uxmoor. She told the bull
+story better than I have--if possible--and, in short, made Uxmoor a hero
+of romance.
+
+Fanny carried this in triumph to the other ladies, and read it out.
+“There!” said she. “Didn't I tell you?”
+
+Rhoda read the letter, and owned herself puzzled. “I am not, then,” said
+Fanny: “they are engaged--over the bull; like Europa and I forgot
+who--and so he is not afraid to go abroad now. That is just like the men.
+They cool directly the chase is over.”
+
+Now the truth was that Zoe was trying to soothe her conscience with
+elegant praises of the man she had dismissed, and felt guilty.
+
+Ina Klosking said little. She was puzzled too at first. She asked to see
+Zoe's handwriting. The letter was handed to her. She studied the
+characters. “It is a good hand,” she said; “nothing mean there.” And she
+gave it back.
+
+But, with a glance, she had read the address, and learned that the post
+town was Bagley.
+
+All that day, at intervals, she brought her powerful understanding to
+bear on the paradox; and though she had not the facts and the clew I have
+given the reader, she came near the truth in an essential matter. She
+satisfied herself that Lord Uxmoor was not engaged to Zoe Vizard.
+Clearly, if so, he would not leave England for months. She resolved to
+know more; and just before dinner she wrote a line to Ashmead, and
+requested him to call on her immediately.
+
+That day she dined with Vizard and the ladies. She sat at Vizard's right
+hand, and he told her how proud, and happy he was to see her there.
+
+She blushed faintly, but made no reply.
+
+She retired soon after dinner.
+
+All next day she expected Ashmead.
+
+He did not come.
+
+She dined with Vizard next day, and retired to the drawing-room. The
+piano was opened, and she played one or two exquisite things, and
+afterward tried her voice, but only in scales, and somewhat timidly, for
+Miss Gale warned her she might lose it or spoil it if she strained the
+vocal chord while her whole system was weak.
+
+Next day Ashmead came with apologies.
+
+He had spent a day in the cathedral town on business. He did not tell her
+how he had spent that day, going about puffing her as the greatest singer
+of sacred music in the world, and paving the way to her engagement at the
+next festival. Yet the single-hearted Joseph had really raised that
+commercial superstructure upon the sentiments she had uttered on his
+first visit to Vizard Court.
+
+Ina now held a private conference with him. “I think,” said she, “I have
+heard you say you were once an actor.”
+
+“I was, madam, and a very good one, too.”
+
+_“Cela va sans dire._ I never knew one that was not. At all events, you
+can disguise yourself.”
+
+“Anything, madam, from Grandfather Whitehead to a boy in a pinafore.
+Famous for my make-ups.”
+
+“I wish you to watch a certain house, and not be recognized by a person
+who knows you.”
+
+“Well, madam, nothing is _infra dig,_ if done for you; nothing is
+distasteful if done for you.”
+
+“Thank you, my friend. I have thought it well to put my instructions on
+paper.”
+
+“Ay, that is the best way.”
+
+She handed him the instructions. He read them, and his eyes sparkled.
+“Ah, this is a commission I undertake with pleasure, and I'll execute it
+with zeal.”
+
+He left her, soon after, to carry out these instructions, and that very
+evening he was in the wardrobe of the little theater, rummaging out a
+suitable costume, and also in close conference with the wigmaker.
+
+
+Next day Vizard had his mother's sables taken out and aired, and drove
+Mademoiselle Klosking into Taddington in an open carriage. Fanny told her
+they were his mother's sables, and none to compare with them in the
+country.
+
+On returning, she tried her voice to the harmonium in her own
+antechamber, and found it was gaining strength--like herself.
+
+
+Meantime Zoe Vizard met Severne in the garden, and told him she had
+written to Lord Uxmoor, and he would never visit her again. But she did
+not make light of the sacrifice this time. She had sacrificed her own
+self-respect as well as Uxmoor's, and she was sullen and tearful.
+
+He had to be very wary and patient, or she would have parted with him
+too, and fled from both of them to her brother.
+
+Uxmoor's wounded pride would have been soothed could he have been present
+at the first interview of this pair. He would have seen Severne treated
+with a hauteur and a sort of savageness he himself was safe from, safe in
+her unshaken esteem.
+
+But the world is made for those who can keep their temper, especially the
+female part of the world.
+
+Sad, kind, and loving, but never irritable, Severne smoothed down and
+soothed and comforted the wounded girl; and, seeing her two or three
+times a day--for she was completely mistress of her time--got her
+completely into his power again.
+
+Uxmoor did not reply.
+
+She had made her selection. Love beckoned forward. It was useless to look
+back.
+
+Love was omnipotent. They both began to recover their good looks as if by
+magic; and as Severne's passion, though wicked, was earnest, no poor bird
+was ever more completely entangled by bird-lime than Zoe was caught by
+Edward Severne.
+
+Their usual place of meeting was the shrubbery attached to Somerville
+Villa. The trees, being young, made all the closer shade, and the
+gravel-walk meandered, and shut them out from view.
+
+Severne used to enter this shrubbery by a little gate leading from the
+meadow, and wait under the trees till Zoe came to him. Vizard's
+advertisements alarmed him, and he used to see the coast clear before he
+entered the shrubbery, and also before he left it. He was so particular
+in this that, observing one day an old man doddering about with a basket,
+he would not go in till he had taken a look at him. He found it was an
+ancient white-haired villager gathering mushrooms. The old fellow was so
+stiff, and his hand so trembling, that it took him about a minute to
+gather a single fungus.
+
+To give a reason for coming up to him, Severne said, “How old are you,
+old man?”
+
+“I be ninety, measter, next Martinmas-day.”
+
+“Only ninety?” said our Adonis, contemptuously; “you look a hundred and
+ninety.”
+
+He would have been less contemptuous had he known that the mushrooms were
+all toad-stools, and the village centenaire was Mr. Joseph Ashmead,
+resuming his original arts, and playing Grandfather Whitehead on the
+green grass.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+MADEMOISELLE KLOSKING told Vizard the time drew near when she must leave
+his hospitable house.
+
+“Say a month hence,” said he.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+“Of course you will not stay to gratify me,” said he, half sadly, half
+bitterly. “But you will have to stay a week or two longer _par ordonnance
+du me'decin.”_
+
+“My physician is reconciled to my going. We must all bow to necessity.”
+
+This was said too firmly to admit a reply. “The old house will seem very
+dark again whenever you do go,” said Vizard, plaintively.
+
+“It will soon be brightened by her who is its true and lasting light,”
+ was the steady reply.
+
+A day or two passed with nothing to record, except that Vizard hung about
+Ina Klosking, and became, if possible, more enamored of her and more
+unwilling to part with her.
+
+Mr. Ashmead arrived one afternoon about three o'clock, and was more than
+an hour with her. They conversed very earnestly, and when he went, Miss
+Gale found her agitated.
+
+“This will not do,” said she.
+
+“It will pass, my friend,” said Ina. “I will sleep.”
+
+She laid herself down and slept three hours before dinner.
+
+She arose refreshed, and dined with the little party; and on retiring to
+the drawing-room, she invited Vizard to join them at his convenience. He
+made it his convenience in ten minutes.
+
+Then she opened the piano, played an introduction, and electrified them
+all by singing the leading song in Siebel. She did not sing it so
+powerfully as in the theater; she would not have done that even if she
+could: but still she sung it out, and nobly. It seemed a miracle to hear
+such singing in a room.
+
+Vizard was in raptures.
+
+They cooled suddenly when she reminded him what he had said, that she
+must stay till she could sing Siebel's song. “I keep to the letter of the
+contract,” said she. “My friends, this is my last night at Vizard Court.”
+
+“Please try and shake that resolution,” said Vizard, gravely, to
+Mesdemoiselles Dover and Gale.
+
+“They cannot,” said Ina. “It is my destiny. And yet,” said she, after a
+pause, “I would not have you remember me by that flimsy thing. Let me
+sing you a song your mother loved; let me be remembered in this house, as
+a singer, by that.”
+
+Then she sung Handel's song:
+
+“What though I trace each herb and flower That decks the morning dew? Did
+I not own Jehovah's power, How vain were all I knew.”
+
+She sung it with amazing purity, volume, grandeur, and power; the lusters
+rang and shook, the hearts were thrilled, and the very souls of the
+hearers ravished. She herself turned a little pale in singing it, and the
+tears stood in her eyes.
+
+The song and its interpretation were so far above what passes for music
+that they all felt compliments would be an impertinence. Their eyes and
+their long drawn breath paid the true homage to that great master rightly
+interpreted--a very rare occurrence.
+
+“Ah!” said she; “that was the hand could brandish Goliath's spear.”
+
+“And this is how you reconcile us to losing you,” said Vizard. “You might
+stay, at least, till you had gone through my poor mother's collection.”
+
+“Ah! I wish I could. But I cannot. I must not. My Fate forbids it.”
+
+“'Fate' and 'destiny,'” said Vizard, “stuff and nonsense. We make our own
+destiny. Mine is to be eternally disappointed, and happiness snatched out
+of my hands.”
+
+He had no sooner made this pretty speech than he was ashamed of it, and
+stalked out of the room, not to say any more unwise things.
+
+This burst of spleen alarmed Fanny Dover. “There,” said she, “now you
+cannot go. He is very angry.”
+
+Ina Klosking said she was sorry for that; but he was too just a man to be
+angry with her long: the day would come when he would approve her
+conduct. Her lip quivered a little as she said this, and the water stood
+in her eyes: and this was remembered and understood, long after, both by
+Miss Dover and Rhoda Gale.
+
+“When does your Royal Highness propose to start?” inquired Rhoda Gale,
+very obsequiously, and just a little bitterly.
+
+“To-morrow at half-past nine o'clock, dear friend,” said Ina.
+
+“Then you will not go without me. You will get the better of Mr. Vizard,
+because he is only a man; but I am a woman, and have a will as well as
+you. If you make a journey to-morrow, I go with you. Deny me, and you
+shan't go at all.” Her eyes flashed defiance.
+
+Ina moved one step, took Rhoda's little defiant head, and kissed her
+cheek. “Sweet physician and kind friend, of course you shall go with me,
+if you will, and be a great blessing to me.”
+
+This reconciled Miss Gale to the proceedings. She packed up a carpet-bag,
+and was up early, making provisions of every sort for her patient's
+journey: air pillows, soft warm coverings, medicaments, stimulants, etc.,
+in a little bag slung across her shoulders. Thus furnished, and equipped
+in a uniform suit of gray cloth and wideawake hat, she cut a very
+sprightly and commanding figure, but more like Diana than Hebe.
+
+The Klosking came down, a pale Juno, in traveling costume; and a quarter
+of an hour before the time a pair-horse fly was at the door and Mr.
+Ashmead in the hall.
+
+The ladies were both ready.
+
+But Vizard had not appeared.
+
+This caused an uneasy discussion.
+
+“He must be very angry,” said Fanny, in a half whisper.
+
+“I cannot go while he is,” sighed La Klosking. “There is a limit even to
+my courage.”
+
+“Mr. Harris,” said Rhoda, “would you mind telling Mr. Vizard?”
+
+“Well, miss,” said Harris, softly, “I did step in and tell him. Which he
+told me to go to the devil, miss--a hobservation I never knew him to make
+before.”
+
+This was not encouraging. Yet the Klosking quietly inquired where he was.
+
+“In there, ma'am,” said Harris. “In his study.”
+
+Mademoiselle Klosking, placed between two alternatives, decided with her
+usual resolution. She walked immediately to the door and tapped at it;
+then, scarcely waiting for an instant, opened it and walked in with
+seeming firmness, though her heart was beating rather high.
+
+The people outside looked at one another. “I wonder whether he will tell
+_her_ to go to the devil,” said Fanny, who was getting tired of being
+good.
+
+“No use,” said Miss Gale; “she doesn't know the road.”
+
+When La Klosking entered the study, Vizard was seated, disconsolate, with
+two pictures before him. His face was full of pain, and La Klosking's
+heart smote her. She moved toward him, hanging her head, and said, with
+inimitable sweetness and tenderness, “Here is a culprit come to try and
+appease you.”
+
+There came a time that he could hardly think of these words and her
+penitent, submissive manner with dry eyes. But just then his black dog
+had bitten him, and he said, sullenly, “Oh, never mind me. It was always
+so. Your sex have always made me smart for--If flying from my house
+before you are half recovered gives you half the pleasure it gives me
+pain and mortification, say no more about it.”
+
+“Ah! why say it gives me pleasure? my friend, you cannot really think
+so.”
+
+“I don't know what to think. You ladies are all riddles.”
+
+“Then I must take you into my confidence, and, with some reluctance, I
+own, let you know why I leave this dear, kind roof to-day.”
+
+Vizard's generosity took the alarm. “No,” said, “I will not extort your
+reasons. It is a shame of me. Your bare will ought to be law in this
+house; and what reasons could reconcile me to losing you so suddenly? You
+are the joy of our eyes, the delight of our ears, the idol of all our
+hearts. You will leave us, and there will be darkness and gloom, instead
+of sunshine and song. Well, go; but you cannot soften the blow with
+reasons.”
+
+Mademoiselle Klosking flushed, and her bosom heaved; for this was a
+strong man, greatly moved. With instinctive tact, she saw the best way to
+bring him to his senses was to give him a good opening to retreat.
+
+“Ah, monsieur,” said she, “you are _trop grand seigneur._ You entertain a
+poor wounded singer in a chamber few princes can equal. You place
+everything at her disposal; such a physician and nurse as no queen can
+command; a choir to sing to her; royal sables to keep the wind from her,
+and ladies to wait on her. And when you have brought her back to life,
+you say to yourself, She is a woman; she will not be thoroughly content
+unless you tell her she is adorable. So, out of politeness, you descend
+to the language of gallantry. This was not needed. I dispense with that
+kind of comfort. I leave your house because it is my duty, and leave it
+your grateful servant and true friend to my last hour.”
+
+She had opened the door, and Vizard could now escape. His obstinacy and
+his heart would not let him.
+
+“Do not fence with me,” said he. “Leave that to others. It is beneath
+you. If you had been content to stay, I would have been content to show
+my heart by halves. But when you offer to leave me, you draw from me an
+avowal I can no longer restrain, and you must and shall listen to it.
+When I saw you on the stage at Homburg, I admired you and loved you that
+very night. But I knew from experience how seldom in women outward graces
+go with the virtues of the soul. I distrusted my judgment. I feared you
+and I fled you. But our destiny brought you here, and when I held you,
+pale and wounded, in my very arms, my heart seemed to go out of my
+bosom.”
+
+“Oh, no more! no more, pray!” cried Mademoiselle Klosking.
+
+But the current of love was not to be stemmed. “Since that terrible hour
+I have been in heaven, watching your gradual and sure recovery; but you
+have recovered only to abandon me, and your hurry to leave me drives me
+to desperation. No, I cannot part with you. You must not leave me, either
+this day or any day. Give me your hand, and stay here forever, and be the
+queen of my heart and of my house.”
+
+For some time La Klosking had lost her usual composure. Her bosom heaved
+tumultuously, and her hands trembled. But at this distinct proposal the
+whole woman changed. She drew herself up, with her pale cheek flushing
+and her eyes glittering.
+
+“What, sir?” said she. “Have you read me so ill? Do you not know I would
+rather be the meanest drudge that goes on her knees and scrubs your
+floors, than be queen of your house, as you call it? Ah, Jesu, are all
+men alike, then; that he whom I have so revered, whose mother's songs I
+have sung to him, makes me a proposal dishonorable to me and to himself?”
+
+“Dishonorable!” cried Vizard. “Why, what can any man offer to any woman
+more honorable than I offer you? I offer you my heart and my hand, and I
+say, do not go, my darling. Stay here forever, and be my queen, my
+goddess, my wife!”
+
+“YOUR WIFE?” She stared wildly at him. “Your wife? Am I dreaming, or are
+you?”
+
+“Neither. Do you think I can be content with less than that? Ina, I adore
+you.”
+
+She put her hand to her head. “I know not who is to blame for this,” said
+she, and she trembled visibly.
+
+“I'll take the blame,” said he, gayly.
+
+Said Ina, very gravely. “You, who do me the honor to offer me your name,
+have you asked yourself seriously what has been the nature of my relation
+with Edward Severne?”
+
+“No!” cried Vizard, violently; “and I do not mean to. I see you despise
+him now; and I have my eyes and my senses to guide me in choosing a wife.
+I choose you--if you will have me.”
+
+She listened, then turned her moist eyes full upon him, and said to him,
+“This is the greatest honor ever befell me. I cannot take it.”
+
+“Not take it?”
+
+“No; but that is my misfortune. Do not be mortified. You have no rival in
+my esteem. What shall I say, my friend?--at least I may call you that. If
+I explain now, I shall weep much, and lose my strength. What shall I do?
+I think--yes, that will be best--_you shall go with me to-day.”_
+
+“To the end of the world!”
+
+“Something tells me you will know all, and forgive me.”
+
+“Shall I take my bag?”
+
+“You might take an evening dress and some linen.”
+
+“Very well. I won't keep you a moment,” said he, and went upstairs with
+great alacrity.
+
+She went into the hall, with her eyes bent on the ground, and was
+immediately pinned by Rhoda Gale, whose piercing eye, and inquisitive
+finger on her pulse, soon discovered that she had gone through a trying
+scene. “This is a bad beginning of an imprudent journey,” said she: “I
+have a great mind to countermand the carriage.”
+
+“No, no,” said Ina; “I will sleep in the railway and recover myself.”
+
+The ladies now got into the carriage; Ashmead insisted on going upon the
+box; and Vizard soon appeared, and took his seat opposite Miss Gale and
+Mademoiselle Klosking. The latter whispered her doctress: “It would be
+wise of me not to speak much at present.” La Gale communicated this to
+Vizard, and they drove along in dead silence. But they were naturally
+curious to know where they were going; so they held some communication
+with their eyes. They very soon found they were going to Taddington
+Station.
+
+Then came a doubt--were they going up or down?
+
+That was soon resolved.
+
+Mr. Ashmead had hired a saloon carriage for them, with couches and
+conveniences.
+
+They entered it; and Mademoiselle Klosking said to Miss Gale, “It is
+necessary that I should sleep.”
+
+“You shall,” said Miss Gale.
+
+While she was arranging the pillows and things, La Klosking said to
+Vizard, “We artists learn to sleep when we have work to do. Without it I
+should not be strong enough this day.” She said this in a half-apologetic
+tone, as one anxious not to give him any shadow of offense.
+
+She was asleep in five minutes; and Miss Gale sat watching her at first,
+but presently joined Vizard at the other end, and they whispered
+together. Said she, “What becomes of the theory that women have no
+strength of will? There is Mademoiselle _Je le veux_ in person. When she
+wants to sleep, she sleeps; and look at you and me--do you know where we
+are going?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“No more do I. The motive power is that personification of divine repose
+there. How beautiful she is with her sweet lips parted, and her white
+teeth peeping, and her upper and lower lashes wedded, and how graceful!”
+
+“She is a goddess,” said Vizard. “I wish I had never seen her. Mark my
+words, she will give me the sorest heart of all.”
+
+“I hope not,” said Rhoda, very seriously.
+
+Ina slept sweetly for nearly two hours, and all that time her friends
+could only guess where they were going.
+
+At last the train stopped, for the sixth time, and Ashmead opened the
+door.
+
+This worthy, who was entirely in command of the expedition, collected the
+luggage, including Vizard's bag, and deposited it at the station. He then
+introduced the party to a pair-horse fly, and mounted the box.
+
+When they stopped at Bagley, Vizard suspected where they were going.
+
+When he saw the direction the carriage took, he knew it, and turned very
+grave indeed.
+
+He even regretted that he had put himself so blindly under the control of
+a woman. He cast searching glances at Mademoiselle Klosking to try and
+discover what on earth she was going to do. But her face was as
+impenetrable as marble. Still, she never looked less likely to do
+anything rash or in bad taste. Quietness was the main characteristic of
+her face, when not rippled over by a ravishing sweetness; but he had
+never seen her look so great, and lofty, and resolute as she looked now;
+a little stern, too, as one who had a great duty to do, and was
+inflexible as iron. When truly feminine features stiffen into marble like
+this, beauty is indeed imperial, and worthy of epic song; it rises beyond
+the wing of prose.
+
+My reader is too intelligent not to divine that she was steeling herself
+to a terrible interview with Zoe Vizard--terrible mainly on account of
+the anguish she knew she must inflict.
+
+But we can rarely carry out our plans exactly as we trace
+them--unexpected circumstances derange them or expand them; and I will so
+far anticipate as to say that in this case a most unexpected turn of
+events took La Klosking by surprise.
+
+Whether she proved equal to the occasion these pages will show very soon.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+POIKILUS never left Taddington--only the “Swan.” More than once he was
+within sight of Ashmead unobserved. Once, indeed, that gentleman, who had
+a great respect for dignitaries, saluted him; for at that moment Poikilus
+happened to be a sleek dignitary of the Church of England. Poikilus, when
+quite himself, wore a mustache, and was sallow, and lean as a weasel; but
+he shaved and stuffed and colored for the dean. Shovel-hat, portly walk,
+and green spectacles did the rest. Grandfather Whitehead saluted. His
+reverence chuckled.
+
+Poikilus kept Severne posted by letter and wire as to many things that
+happened outside Vizard Court; but he could not divine the storm that was
+brewing inside Ina Klosking's room. Yet Severne defended himself exactly
+as he would have done had he known all. He and Zoe spent Elysian hours,
+meeting twice a day in the shrubbery, and making love as if they were the
+only two creatures in the world; but it was blind Elysium only to one of
+them--Severne was uneasy and alarmed the whole time. His sagacity showed
+him it could not last, and there was always a creeping terror on him.
+Would not Uxmoor cause inquiries? Would he not be sure to tell Vizard?
+Would not Vizard come there to look after Zoe, or order her back to
+Vizard Court? Would not the Klosking get well, and interfere once more?
+He passed the time between heaven and hell; whenever he was not under the
+immediate spell of Zoe's presence, a sort of vague terror was always on
+him. He looked all round him, wherever he went.
+
+This terror, and his passion, which was now as violent as it was wicked,
+soon drove him to conceive desperate measures. But, by masterly
+self-government, he kept them two days to his own bosom. He felt it was
+too soon to raise a fresh and painful discussion with Zoe. He must let
+her drink unmixed delight, and get a taste for it; and then show her on
+what conditions alone it could be had forever.
+
+It was on the third day after their reconciliation she found him seated
+on a bench in the shrubbery, lost in thought, and looking very dejected.
+She was close to him before he noticed; then he sprung up, stared at her,
+and began to kiss her hands violently, and even her very dress.
+
+“It is you,” said he, “once more.”
+
+“Yes, dear,” said Zoe, tenderly; “did you think I would not come?”
+
+“I did not know whether you could come. I feel that my happiness cannot
+last long. And, Zoe dear, I have had a dream. I dreamed we were taken
+prisoners, and carried to Vizard Court, and on the steps stood Vizard and
+Mademoiselle Klosking arm-in-arm; I believe they were man and wife. And
+you were taken out and led, weeping, into the house, and I was left there
+raging with agony. And then that lady put out her finger in a commanding
+way, and I was whirled away into utter darkness, and I heard you moan,
+and I fought, and dashed my head against the carriage, and I felt my
+heart burst, and my whole body filled with some cold liquid, and I went
+to sleep, and I heard a voice say, 'It is all over; his trouble is
+ended.' I was dead.”
+
+This narrative, and his deep dejection, set Zoe's tears flowing. “Poor
+Edward!” she sighed. “I would not survive you. But cheer up, dear; it was
+only a dream. We are not slaves. I am not dependent on any one. How can
+we be parted?”
+
+“We shall, unless we use our opportunity, and make it impossible to part
+us. Zoe, do not slight my alarm and my misgivings; such warnings are
+prophetic. For Heaven's sake, make one sacrifice more, and let us place
+our happiness beyond the reach of man!”
+
+“Only tell me how.”
+
+“There is but one way--marriage.”
+
+Zoe blushed high, and panted a little, but said nothing.
+
+“Ah!” said he, piteously, “I ask too much.”
+
+“How can you say that?” said Zoe. “Of course I shall marry you, dearest.
+What! do you think I could do what I _have_ done for anybody but my
+husband that is to be?”
+
+“I was mad to think otherwise,” said he, “but I am in low spirits, and
+full of misgivings. Oh, the comfort, the bliss, the peace of mind, the
+joy, if you would see our hazardous condition, and make all safe by
+marrying me to-morrow.”
+
+“To-morrow! Why, Edward, are you mad? How can we be married, so long as
+my brother is so prejudiced against you?”
+
+“If we wait his consent, we are parted forever. He would forgive us after
+it--that is certain. But he would never consent. He is too much under the
+influence of his--of Mademoiselle Klosking.”
+
+“Indeed, I cannot hope he will consent beforehand,” sighed Zoe; “but I
+have not the courage to defy him; and if I had, we could not marry all in
+a moment, like that. We should have to be cried in church.”
+
+“That is quite gone out among ladies and gentlemen.”
+
+“Not in our family. Besides, even a special license takes time, I
+suppose. Oh no, I could not be married in a clandestine, discreditable
+way. I am a Vizard--please remember that. Would you degrade the woman you
+honor with your choice?”
+
+And her red cheeks and flashing eyes warned him to desist.
+
+“God forbid!” said he. “If that is the alternative, I consent to lose
+her--and lose her I shall.”
+
+He then affected to dismiss the subject, and said, “Let me enjoy the
+hours that are left me. Much misery or much bliss can be condensed in a
+few days. I will enjoy the blessed time, and we will wait for the chapter
+of accidents that is sure to part us.” Then he acted reckless happiness,
+and broke down at last.
+
+She cried, but showed no sign of yielding. Her pride and self-respect
+were roused and on their defense.
+
+The next day he came to her quietly sad. He seemed languid and listless,
+and to care for nothing. He was artful enough to tell her, on the
+information of Poikilus, that Vizard had hired the cathedral choir three
+times a week to sing to his inamorata; and that he had driven her about
+Taddington, dressed like a duchess, in a whole suit of sables.
+
+At that word the girl turned pale.
+
+He observed, and continued: “And it seems these sables are known
+throughout the county. There were several carriages in the town, and my
+informant heard a lady say they were Mrs. Vizard's sables, worth five
+hundred guineas--a Russian princess gave them her.”
+
+“It is quite true,” said Zoe. “His mother's sables! Is it possible!”
+
+“They all say he is caught at last, and this is to be the next Mrs.
+Vizard.”
+
+“They may well say so, if he parades her in his mother's sables,” said
+Zoe, and could not conceal her jealousy and her indignation. “I never
+dared so much as ask his permission to wear them,” said she.
+
+“And if you had, he would have told you the relics of a saint were not to
+be played with.”
+
+“That is just what he would have said, I do believe.” The female heart
+was stung.
+
+“Ah, well,” said Severne, “I am sure I should not grudge him his
+happiness, if you would see things as he does, and be as brave as he is.”
+
+“Thank you,” said Zoe. “Women cannot defy the world as men do.” Then,
+passionately, “Why do you torment me so? why do you urge me so? a poor
+girl, all alone, and far from advice. What on earth would you have me
+do?”
+
+“Secure us against another separation, unite us in bliss forever.”
+
+“And so I would if I could; you know I would. But it is impossible.”
+
+“No, Zoe; it is easy. There are two ways: we can reach Scotland in eight
+hours; and there, by a simple writing and declaration before witnesses,
+we are man and wife.”
+
+“A Gretna Green marriage?”
+
+“It is just as much a legal marriage as if a bishop married us at St.
+Paul's. However, we could follow it up immediately by marriage in a
+church, either in Scotland or the North of England But there is another
+way: we can be married at Bagley, any day, before the registrar.”
+
+“Is that a marriage--a real marriage?”
+
+“As real, as legal, as binding as a wedding in St. Paul's.”
+
+“Nobody in this county has ever been married so. I should blush to be
+seen about after it.”
+
+“Our first happy year would not be passed in this country. We should go
+abroad for six months.”
+
+“Ay, fly from shame.”
+
+“On our return we should be received with open arms by my own people in
+Huntingdonshire, until your people came round, as they always do.”
+
+He then showed her a letter, in which his pearl of a cousin said they
+would receive his wife with open arms, and make her as happy as they
+could. Uncle Tom was coming home from India, with two hundred thousand
+pounds; he was a confirmed old bachelor, and Edward his favorite, etc.
+
+Zoe faltered a little: so then he pressed her hard with love, and
+entreaties, and promises, and even hysterical tears; then she began to
+cry--a sure sign of yielding. “Give me time,” she said--“give me time.”
+
+He groaned, and said there was no time to lose. Otherwise he never would
+have urged her so.
+
+For all that, she could not be drawn to a decision. She must think over
+such a step. Next morning, at the usual time, he came to know his fate.
+But she did not appear. He waited an hour for her. She did not come. He
+began to rage and storm, and curse his folly for driving her so hard.
+
+At last she came, and found him pale with anxiety, and looking utterly
+miserable. She told him she had passed a sleepless night, and her head
+had ached so in the morning she could not move.
+
+“My poor darling!” said he; “and I am the cause. Say no more about it,
+dear one. I see you do not love me as I love you, and I forgive you.”
+
+She smiled sadly at that, for she was surer of her own love than his.
+
+Zoe had passed a night of torment and vacillation; and but for her
+brother having paraded Mademoiselle Klosking in his mother's sables, she
+would, I think, have held out. But this turned her a little against her
+brother; and, as he was the main obstacle to her union with Severne, love
+and pity conquered. Yet still Honor and Pride had their say. “Edward,”
+ said she, “I love you with all my heart, and share your fears that
+accident may separate us. I will let you decide for both of us. But,
+before you decide, be warned of one thing. I am a girl no longer, but a
+woman who has been distracted with many passions. If any slur rests on my
+fair name, deeply as I love you now, I shall abhor you then.”
+
+He turned pale, for her eye flashed dismay into his craven soul.
+
+He said nothing; and she continued: “If you insist on this hasty,
+half-clandestine marriage, then I consent to this--I will go with you
+before the registrar, and I shall come back here directly. Next morning
+early we will start for Scotland, and be married that other way before
+witnesses. Then your fears will be at an end, for you believe in these
+marriages; only as I do not--for I look on these _legal_ marriages merely
+as solemn betrothals--I shall be Miss Zoe Vizard, and expect you to treat
+me so, until I have been married in a church, like a lady.”
+
+“Of course you shall,” said he; and overwhelmed her with expressions of
+gratitude, respect, and affection.
+
+This soothed her troubled mind, and she let him take her hand and pour
+his honeyed flatteries into her ear, as he walked her slowly up and down.
+
+She could hardly tear herself away from the soft pressure of his hand and
+the fascination of his tongue, and she left him, more madly in love with
+him than ever, and ready to face anything but dishonor for him. She was
+to come out at twelve o'clock, and walk into Bagley with him to betroth
+herself to him, as she chose to consider it, before the stipendiary
+magistrate, who married couples in that way. Of the two marriages she had
+consented to, merely as preliminaries to a real marriage, Zoe despised
+this the most; for the Scotch marriage was, at all events, ancient, and
+respectable lovers had been driven to it again and again.
+
+She was behind her time, and Severne thought her courage had failed her,
+after all. But no: at half-past twelve she came out, and walked briskly
+toward Bagley.
+
+He was behind her, and followed her. She took his arm nervously. “Let me
+feel you all the way,” she said, “to give me courage.”
+
+So they walked arm-in-arm; and, as they went, his courage secretly
+wavered, her's rose at every step.
+
+About half a mile from the town they met a carriage and pair.
+
+At sight of them a gentleman on the box tapped at the glass window, and
+said, hurriedly, “Here they are _together.”_
+
+Mademoiselle Klosking said, “Stop the carriage”: then, pausing a little,
+“Mr. Vizard--on your word of honor, no violence.”
+
+The carriage was drawn up, Ashmead opened the door in a trice, and La
+Klosking, followed by Vizard, stepped out, and stood like a statue before
+Edward Severne and Zoe Vizard.
+
+Severne dropped her arm directly, and was panic-stricken.
+
+Zoe uttered a little scream at the sight of Vizard; but the next moment
+took fire at her rival's audacity, and stepped boldly before her lover,
+with flashing eyes and expanded nostrils that literally breathed
+defiance.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+“YOU infernal scoundrel!” roared Vizard, and took a stride toward
+Severne.
+
+“No violence,” said Ina Klosking, sternly: “it will be an insult to this
+lady and me.”
+
+“Very well, then,” said Vizard, grimly, “I must wait till I catch him
+alone.”
+
+“Meantime, permit me to speak, sir,” said Ina. “Believe me, I have a
+better right than even you.”
+
+“Then pray ask my sister why I find her on that villain's arm.”
+
+“I should not answer her,” said Zoe, haughtily. “But my brother I will.
+Harrington, all this vulgar abuse confirms me in my choice: I take his
+arm because I have accepted his hand. I am going into Bagley with him to
+become his wife.”
+
+This announcement took away Vizard's breath for a moment, and Ina
+Klosking put in her word. “You cannot do that: pray he warned. He is
+leading you to infamy.”
+
+“Infamy! What, because he cannot give me a suit of sables? Infamy!
+because we prefer virtuous poverty to vice and wealth?”
+
+“No, young lady,” said Ina, coloring faintly at the taunt; “but because
+you could only be his paramour; not his wife. He is married already.”
+
+At these words, spoken with that power Ina Klosking could always command,
+Zoe Vizard turned ashy pale. But she fought on bravely.
+
+“Married? It is false! To whom?”
+
+“To me.”
+
+“I thought so. Now I know it is not true. He left you months before we
+ever knew him.”
+
+“Look at him. He does not say it is false.”
+
+Zoe turned on Severne, and at his face her own heart quaked. “Are you
+married to this lady?” she asked; and her eyes, dilated to their full
+size, searched his every feature.
+
+“Not that I know of,” said he, impudently.
+
+“Is that the serious answer you expected, Miss Vizard?” said Ina, keenly:
+then to Severne, “You are unwise to insult the woman on whom, from this
+day, you must depend for bread. Miss Vizard, to you I speak, and not to
+this shameless man. For your mother's sake, do me justice. I have loved
+him dearly; but now I abhor him. Would I could break the tie that binds
+us and give him to you, or to any lady who would have him! But I cannot.
+And shall I hold my tongue, and let you be ruined and dishonored? I am an
+older woman than you, and bound by gratitude to all your house. Dear
+lady, I have taxed my strength to save you. I feel that strength waning.
+Pray read this paper, and consent to save _yourself.”_
+
+“I will read it,” said Rhoda Gale, interfering. “I know German. It is an
+authorized duplicate certifying the marriage of Edward Severne, of
+Willingham, in Huntingdonshire, England, to Ina Ferris, daughter of
+Walter Ferris and Eva Klosking, of Zutzig, in Denmark. The marriage was
+solemnized at Berlin, and here are the signatures of several witnesses:
+Eva Klosking; Fraulein Graafe; Zug, the Capellmeister; Vicomte Meurice,
+French _attache';_ Count Hompesch, Bavarian plenipotentiary; Herr
+Formes.”
+
+Ina explained, in a voice that was now feeble, “I was a public character;
+my marriage was public: not like the clandestine union which is all he
+dared offer to this well-born lady.”
+
+“The Bavarian and French ministers are both in London,” said Vizard,
+eagerly. “We can easily learn if these signatures are forged, like _your_
+acceptances.”
+
+But, if one shadow of doubt remained, Severne now removed it; he uttered
+a scream of agony, and fled as if the demons of remorse and despair were
+spurring him with red-hot rowels.
+
+“There, you little idiot!” roared Vizard; “does that open you eyes?”
+
+“Oh, Mr. Vizard,” said Ina, reproachfully, “for pity's sake, think only
+of her youth, and what she has to suffer. I can do no more for her: I
+feel--so--faint.”
+
+Ashmead and Rhoda supported her into the carriage. Vizard, touched to the
+heart by Ina's appeal, held out his eloquent arms to his stricken sister,
+and she tottered to him, and clung to him, all limp and broken, and
+wishing she could sink out of the sight of all mankind. He put his strong
+arm round her, and, though his own heart was desolate and broken, he
+supported that broken flower of womanhood, and half led, half lifted her
+on, until he laid her on a sofa in Somerville Villa. Then, for the first
+time, he spoke to her. “We are both desolate, now, my child. Let us love
+one another. I will be ten times tenderer to you than I ever have been.”
+ She gave a great sob, but she was past speaking.
+
+
+Ina Klosking, Miss Gale, and Ashmead returned in the carriage to Bagley.
+Half a mile out of the town they found a man lying on the pathway, with
+his hat off, and white as a sheet. It was Edward Severne. He had run till
+he dropped.
+
+Ashmead got down and examined him. He came back to the carriage door,
+looking white enough himself. “It is all over,” said he; “the man is
+dead.”
+
+Miss Gale was out in a moment and examined him. “No,” said she. “The
+heart does not beat perceptibly; but he breathes. It is another of those
+seizures. Help me get him into the carriage.”
+
+This was done, and the driver ordered to go a foot's pace.
+
+The stimulants Miss Gale had brought for Ina Klosking were now applied to
+revive this malefactor; and both ladies actually ministered to him with
+compassionate faces. He was a villain; but he was superlatively handsome,
+and a feather might turn the scale of life or death.
+
+The seizure, though really appalling to look at, did not last long. He
+revived a little in the carriage, and was taken, still insensible, but
+breathing hard, into a room in the railway hotel. When he was out of
+danger, Miss Gale felt Ina Klosking's pulse, and insisted on her going to
+Taddington by the next train and leaving Severne to the care of Mr.
+Ashmead.
+
+Ina, who, in truth, was just then most unfit for any more trials, feebly
+consented, but not until she had given Ashmead some important
+instructions respecting her malefactor, and supplied him with funds. Miss
+Gale also instructed Ashmead how to proceed in case of a relapse, and
+provided him with materials.
+
+The ladies took a train, which arrived soon after; and, being so
+fortunate as to get a lady's carriage all to themselves, they sat
+intertwined and rocking together, and Ina Klosking found relief at last
+in a copious flow of tears.
+
+Rhoda got her to Hillstoke, cooked for her, nursed her, lighted fires,
+aired her bed, and these two friends slept together in each other's arms.
+
+Ashmead had a hard time of it with Severne. He managed pretty well with
+him at first, because he stupefied him with brandy before he had come to
+his senses, and in that state got him into the next train. But as the
+fumes wore off, and Severne realized his villainy, his defeat, and his
+abject condition between the two women he had wronged, he suddenly
+uttered a yell and made a spring at the window. Ashmead caught him by his
+calves, and dragged him so powerfully down that his face struck the floor
+hard and his nose bled profusely. The hemorrhage and the blow quieted him
+for a time, and then Ashmead gave him more brandy, and got him to the
+“Swan” in a half-lethargic lull. This faithful agent, and man of all
+work, took a private sitting room with a double bedded room adjoining it,
+and ordered a hot supper with champagne and madeira. Severne lay on a
+sofa moaning.
+
+The waiter stared. “Trouble!” whispered Ashmead, confidentially. “Take no
+notice. Supper as quick as possible.”
+
+By-and-by Severne started up and began to rave and tear about the room,
+cursing his hard fate, and ended in a kind of hysterical fit. Ashmead,
+being provided by Miss Gale with salts and aromatic vinegar, etc.,
+applied them, and ended by dashing a tumbler of water right into his
+face, which did him more good than chemistry.
+
+Then he tried to awaken manhood in the fellow. “What are _you_ howling
+about?” said he. “Why, you are the only sinner, and you are the least
+sufferer. Come, drop sniveling, and eat a bit. Trouble don't do on an
+empty stomach.”
+
+Severne said he would try, but begged the waiter might not be allowed to
+stare at a broken-hearted man.
+
+“Broken fiddlesticks!” said honest Joe.
+
+Severne tried to eat, but could not. But he could drink, and said so.
+
+Ashmead gave him champagne in tumblers, and that, on his empty stomach,
+set him raving, and saying life was hell to him now. But presently he
+fell to weeping bitterly. In which condition Ashmead forced him to bed,
+and there he slept heavily. In the morning Ashmead sat by his bedside,
+and tried to bring him to reason. “Now, look here,” said he, “you are a
+lucky fellow, if you will only see it. You have escaped bigamy and a
+jail, and, as a reward for your good conduct to your wife, and the many
+virtues you have exhibited in a short space of time, I am instructed by
+that lady to pay you twenty pounds every Saturday at twelve o'clock. It
+is only a thousand a year; but don't you be down-hearted; I conclude she
+will raise your salary as you advance. You must forge her name to a heavy
+check, rob a church, and abduct a schoolgirl or two--misses in their
+teens and wards of Chancery preferred--and she will make it thirty, no
+doubt;” and Joe looked very sour.
+
+“That for her twenty pounds a week!” cried this injured man. “She owes me
+two thousand pounds and more. She has been my enemy, and her own. The
+fool!--to go and peach! She had only to hold her tongue, and be Mrs.
+Vizard, and then she would have had a rich husband that adores her, and I
+should have had my darling beautiful Zoe, the only woman I ever loved or
+ever shall.”
+
+“Oh,” said Ashmead, “then you expected your wife to commit bigamy, and so
+make it smooth to you.”
+
+_“Of course I did,”_ was the worthy Severne' s reply; “and so she would,
+if she had had a grain of sense. See what a contrast now. We are all
+unhappy--herself included--and it is all her doing.”
+
+“Well, young man,” said Ashmead, drawing a long breath; “didn't I tell
+you you are a lucky fellow? You have got twenty pounds a week, and that
+blest boon, 'a conscience void of offense.' You are a happy man. Here's a
+strong cup of tea for you: just you drink it, and then get up and take
+the train to the little village. There kindred spirits and fresh delights
+await you. You are not to adorn Barfordshire any longer: that is the
+order.”
+
+“Well, I'll go to London--but not without you.”
+
+“Me! What do you want of _me?”_
+
+“You are a good fellow, and the only friend I have left. But for you, I
+should be dead, or mad. You have pulled me through.”
+
+“Through the window I did. Lord, forgive me for it,” said Joseph. “Well,
+I'll go up to town with you; but I can't be always tied to your tail. I
+haven't got twenty pounds a week. To be sure,” he added, dryly, “I
+haven't earned it. That is one comfort.”
+
+He telegraphed Hillstoke, and took Severne up to London.
+
+There the Bohemian very soon found he could live, and even derive some
+little enjoyment from his vices--without Joseph Ashmead. He visited him
+punctually every Saturday, and conversed delightfully. If he came any
+other day, it was sure to be for an advance: he never got it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+FANNY DOVER was sent for directly to Somerville Villa; and, three days
+after the distressing scene I have endeavored to describe, Vizard brought
+his wrecked sister home. Her condition was pitiable; and the moment he
+reached Vizard Court he mounted his horse and rode to Hillstoke to bring
+Miss Gale down to her.
+
+There he found Ina Klosking, with her boxes at the door, waiting for the
+fly that was to take her away.
+
+It was a sad interview. He thanked her deeply for her noble conduct to
+his sister, and then he could not help speaking of his own
+disappointment.
+
+Mademoiselle Klosking, on this occasion, was simple, sad, and even
+tender, within prudent limits. She treated this as a parting forever, and
+therefore made no secret of her esteem for him. “But,” said she, “I hope
+one day to hear you have found a partner worthy of you. As for me, who am
+tied for life to one I despise, and can never love again, I shall seek my
+consolation in music, and, please God, in charitable actions.”
+
+He kissed her hand at parting, and gave her a long, long look of
+miserable regret that tried her composure hard, and often recurred to her
+memory.
+
+She went up to London, took a small suburban house, led a secluded life,
+and devoted herself to her art, making a particular study now of sacred
+music; she collected volumes of it, and did not disdain to buy it at
+bookstalls, or wherever she could find it.
+
+Ashmead worked for her, and she made her first appearance in a new
+oratorio. Her songs proved a principal feature in the performance.
+
+
+Events did not stand still in Barfordshire; but they were tame, compared
+with those I have lately related, and must be dispatched in fewer words.
+
+Aunt Maitland recovered unexpectedly from a severe illness, and was a
+softened woman: she sent Fanny off to keep Zoe company. That poor girl
+had a bitter time, and gave Doctress Gale great anxiety. She had no brain
+fever, but seemed quietly, insensibly, sinking into her grave. No
+appetite, and indeed was threatened with atrophy at one time. But she was
+so surrounded with loving-kindness that her shame diminished, her pride
+rose, and at last her agony was blunted, and only a pensive languor
+remained to show that she had been crushed, and could not be again the
+bright, proud, high-spirited beauty of Barfordshire.
+
+For many months she never mentioned either Edward Severne, Ina Klosking,
+or Lord Uxmoor.
+
+It was a long time before she went outside the gates of her own park. She
+seemed to hate the outer world.
+
+Her first visit was to Miss Gale; that young lady was now very happy. She
+had her mother with her. Mrs. Gale had defeated the tricky executor, and
+had come to England with a tidy little capital, saved out of the fire by
+her sagacity and spirit.
+
+Mrs. Gale's character has been partly revealed by her daughter. I have
+only to add she was a homely, well-read woman, of few words, but those
+few--grape-shot. Example--she said to Zoe, “Young lady, excuse an old
+woman's freedom, who might be your mother: the troubles of young folk
+have a deal of self in them; more than you could believe. Now just you
+try something to take you out of self, and you will be another creature.”
+
+“Ah,” sighed Zoe, “would to Heaven I could!”
+
+“Oh,” said Mrs. Gale, “anybody with money can do it, and the world so
+full of real trouble. Now, my girl tells me you are kind to the poor: why
+not do something like Rhoda is doing for this lord she is overseer, or
+goodness knows what, to?”
+
+Rhoda (defiantly), “Viceroy.”
+
+“You have money, and your brother will not refuse you a bit o' land. Why
+not build some of these new-fangled cottages, with fancy gardens, and
+dwarf palaces for a cow and a pig? Rhoda, child, if I was a poor woman, I
+could graze a cow in the lanes hereabouts, and feed a pig in the woods.
+Now you do that for the poor, Miss Vizard, and don't let my girl think
+for you. Breed your own ideas. That will divert you from self, my dear,
+and you will begin to find it--there--just as if a black cloud was
+clearing away from your mind, and letting your heart warm again.”
+
+Zoe caught at the idea, and that very day asked Vizard timidly whether he
+would let her have some land to build a model cottage or two on.
+
+Will it be believed that the good-natured Vizard made a wry face? “What,
+two proprietors in Islip!” For a moment or two he was all squire. But
+soon the brother conquered. “Well,” said he, “I can't give you a
+fee-simple; I must think of my heirs: but I will hold a court, and grant
+you a copy-hold; or I'll give you a ninety-nine years' lease at a
+pepper-corn. There's a slip of three acres on the edge of the Green. You
+shall amuse yourself with that.” He made it over to her directly, for a
+century, at ten shillings a year; and, as he was her surviving trustee,
+he let her draw in advance on her ten thousand pounds.
+
+Mapping out the ground with Rhoda, settling the gardens and the miniature
+pastures, and planning the little houses and outhouses, and talking a
+great deal, compared with what she transacted, proved really a certain
+antidote to that lethargy of woe which oppressed her: and here, for a
+time, I must leave her, returning slowly to health of body, and some
+tranquillity of mind; but still subject to fits of shame, and gnawed by
+bitter regrets.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+THE reputation Mademoiselle Klosking gained in the new oratorio, aided by
+Ashmead's exertions, launched her in a walk of art that accorded with her
+sentiments.
+
+She sung in the oratorio whenever it could be performed, and also sung
+select songs from it, and other sacred songs at concerts.
+
+She was engaged at a musical festival in the very cathedral town whose
+choir had been so consoling to her. She entered with great zeal into this
+engagement, and finding there was a general desire to introduce the
+leading chorister-boy to the public in a duet, she surprised them all by
+offering to sing the second part with him, if he would rehearse it
+carefully with her at her lodgings. He was only too glad, as might be
+supposed. She found he had a lovely voice, but little physical culture.
+He read correctly, but did not even know the nature of the vocal
+instrument and its construction, which is that of a bagpipe. She taught
+him how to keep his lungs full in singing, yet not to gasp, and by this
+simple means enabled him to sing with more than twice the power he had
+ever exercised yet. She also taught him the swell, a figure of music he
+knew literally nothing about.
+
+When, after singing a great solo, to salvos of applause, Mademoiselle
+Klosking took the second part with this urchin, the citizens and all the
+musical people who haunt a cathedral were on the tiptoe of expectation.
+The boy amazed them, and the rich contralto that supported him and rose
+and swelled with him in ravishing harmony enchanted them. The vast
+improvement in the boy's style did not escape the hundreds of persons who
+knew him, and this duet gave La Klosking a great personal popularity.
+
+Her last song, by her own choice, was, “What though I trace” (Handel),
+and the majestic volume that rang through the echoing vault showed with
+what a generous spirit she had subdued that magnificent organ not to
+crush her juvenile partner in the preceding duet.
+
+Among the persons present was Harrington Vizard. He had come there
+against his judgment; but he could not help it.
+
+He had been cultivating a dull tranquillity, and was even beginning his
+old game of railing on women, as the great disturbers of male peace. At
+the sight of her, and the sound of her first notes, away went his
+tranquillity, and he loved her as ardently as ever. But when she sung his
+mother's favorite, and the very roof rang, and three thousand souls were
+thrilled and lifted to heaven by that pure and noble strain, the rapture
+could not pass away from this one heart; while the ear ached at the
+cessation of her voice, the heart also ached, and pined, and yearned.
+
+He ceased to resist. From that day he followed her about to her public
+performances all over the Midland Counties; and she soon became aware of
+his presence. She said nothing till Ashmead drew her attention; then,
+being compelled to notice it, she said it was a great pity. Surely he
+must have more important duties at home.
+
+Ashmead wanted to recognize him, and put him into the best place vacant;
+but La Klosking said, “No. I will be more his friend than to lend him the
+least encouragement.”
+
+At the end of that tour she returned to London.
+
+While she was there in her little suburban house, she received a visit
+from Mr. Edward Severne. He came to throw himself at her feet and beg
+forgiveness. She said she would try and forgive him. He then implored her
+to forget the past. She told him that was beyond her power. He persisted,
+and told her he had come to his senses; all his misconduct now seemed a
+hideous dream, and he found he had never really loved any one but her. So
+then he entreated her to try him once more; to give him back the treasure
+of her love.
+
+She listened to him like a woman of marble. “Love where I despise!” said
+she. “Never. The day has gone by when these words can move me. Come to me
+for the means of enjoying yourself--gambling, drinking, and your other
+vices--and I shall indulge you. But do not profane the name of love. I
+forbid you ever to enter my door on that errand. I presume you want
+money. There is a hundred pounds. Take it; and keep out of my sight till
+you have wasted it.”
+
+He dashed the notes proudly down. She turned her back on him, and glided
+into another room.
+
+When she returned, he was gone, and the hundred pounds had managed to
+accompany him.
+
+He went straight from her to Ashmead and talked big. He would sue for
+restitution of conjugal rights.
+
+“Don't do that, for my sake,” said Ashamed. “She will fly the country
+like a bird, and live in some village on bread and milk.”
+
+“Oh, I would not do you an ill turn for the world,” said the Master of
+Arts. “You have been a kind friend to me. You saved my life. It is
+imbittered by remorse, and recollections of the happiness I have thrown
+away, and the heart I have wronged. No matter!”
+
+This visit disturbed La Klosking, and disposed her to leave London. She
+listened to a brilliant offer that was made her, through Ashmead, by the
+manager of the Italian Opera, who was organizing a provincial tour. The
+tour was well advertised in advance, and the company opened to a grand
+house at Birmingham.
+
+Mademoiselle Klosking had not been long on the stage when she discovered
+her discarded husband in the stalls, looking the perfection of youthful
+beauty. The next minute she saw Vizard in a private box. Mr. Severne
+applauded her loudly, and flung her a bouquet. Mr. Vizard fixed his eyes
+on her, beaming with admiration, but made no public demonstration.
+
+The same incident repeated itself every night she sung, and at every
+town.
+
+At last she spoke about it to Ashmead, in the vague, suggestive way her
+sex excels in. “I presume you have observed the people in front.”
+
+“Yes, madam. Two in particular.”
+
+“Could you not advise him to desist?”
+
+“Which of 'em, madam?”
+
+“Mr. Vizard, of course. He is losing his time, and wasting sentiments it
+is cruel should be wasted.”
+
+Ashmead said he dared not take any liberty with Mr. Vizard.
+
+So the thing went on.
+
+Severne made acquaintance with the manager, and obtained the _entre'e_
+behind the scenes. He brought his wife a bouquet every night, and
+presented it to her with such reverence and grace, that she was obliged
+to take it and courtesy, or seem rude to the people about.
+
+Then she wrote to Miss Gale and begged her to come if she could.
+
+Miss Gale, who had all this time been writing her love-letters twice a
+week, immediately appointed her mother viceroy, and went to her friend.
+Ina Klosking explained the situation to her with a certain slight
+timidity and confusion not usual to her; and said, “Now, dear, you have
+more courage than the rest of us; and I know he has a great respect for
+you; and, indeed, Miss Dover told me he would quite obey you. Would it
+not be the act of a friend to advise him to cease this unhappy--What
+good can come of it? He neglects his own duties, and disturbs me in mine.
+I sometimes ask myself would it not be kinder of me to give up my
+business, or practice it elsewhere--Germany, or even Italy.
+
+“Does he call on you?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Does he write to you?”
+
+“Oh no. I wish he would. Because then I should be able to reply like a
+true friend, and send him away. Consider, dear, it is not like a nobody
+dangling after a public singer; that is common enough. We are all run
+after by idle men; even Signorina Zubetta, who has not much voice, nor
+appearance, and speaks a Genoese patois when she is not delivering a
+libretto. But for a gentleman of position, with a heart of gold and the
+soul of an emperor, that he should waste his time and his feelings so, on
+a woman who can never be anything to him, it is pitiable.”
+
+“Well, but, after all, it is his business; and he is not a child:
+besides, remember he is really very fond of music. If I were you I'd look
+another way, and take no notice.”
+
+“But I cannot.”
+
+“Ah! And why not, pray?”
+
+“Because he always takes a box on my left hand, two from the stage. I
+can't think how he gets it at all the theaters. And then he fixes his
+eyes on me so, I cannot help stealing a look. He never applauds, nor
+throws me bouquets. He looks: oh, you cannot conceive how he looks, and
+the strange effect it is beginning to produce on me.”
+
+“He mesmerizes you?”
+
+“I know not. But it is a growing fascination. Oh, my dear physician,
+interfere. If it goes on, we shall be more wretched than ever.” Then she
+enveloped Rhoda in her arms, and rested a hot cheek against hers.
+
+“I see,” said Rhoda. “You are afraid he will make you love him.”
+
+“I hope not. But artists are impressionable; and being looked at so, by
+one I esteem, night after night, when my nerves are strung--_cela
+m'agace;”_ and she gave a shiver, and then was a little hysterical; and
+that was very unlike her.
+
+Rhoda kissed her, and said resolutely she would stop it.
+
+“Not unkindly?”
+
+“Oh no.”
+
+“You will not tell him it is offensive to me?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Pray do not give him unnecessary pain.”
+
+“No.”
+
+“He is not to be mortified.”
+
+“No.”
+
+“I shall miss him sadly.”
+
+“Shall you?”
+
+“Naturally. Especially at each new place. Only conceive: one is always
+anxious on the stage; and it is one thing to come before a public all
+strangers, and nearly all poor judges; it is another to see, all ready
+for your first note, a noble face bright with intelligence and
+admiration--the face of a friend. Often that one face is the only one I
+allow myself to see. It hides the whole public.”
+
+“Then don't you be silly and send it away. I'll tell you the one fault of
+your character: you think too much of other people, and too little of
+yourself. Now, that is contrary to the scheme of nature. We are sent into
+the world to take care of number one.”
+
+“What!” said Ina; “are we to be all self-indulgence? Is there to be no
+principle, no womanly prudence, foresight, discretion? No; I feel the
+sacrifice: but no power shall hinder me from making it. If you cannot
+persuade him, I'll do like other singers. I will be ill, and quit the
+company.”
+
+“Don't do that,” said Rhoda. “Now you have put on your iron look, it is
+no use arguing--I know that to my cost. There--I will talk to him. Only
+don't hurry me; let me take my opportunity.”
+
+This being understood, Ina would not part with her for the present, but
+took her to the theater. She dismissed her dresser, at Rhoda's request,
+and Rhoda filled that office. So they could talk freely.
+
+Rhoda had never been behind the scenes of a theater before, and she went
+prying about, ignoring the music, for she was almost earless. Presently,
+whom should she encounter but Edward Severne. She started and looked at
+him like a basilisk. He removed his hat and drew back a step with a great
+air of respect and humility. She was shocked and indignant with Ina for
+letting him be about her. She followed her off the stage into her
+dressing room, and took her to task. “I have seen Mr. Severne here.”
+
+“He comes every night.”
+
+“And you allow him?”
+
+“It is the manager.”
+
+“But he would not admit him, if you objected.”
+
+“I am afraid to do that.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“We should have an _esclandre._ I find he has had so much consideration
+for me as to tell no one our relation; and as he has never spoken to me,
+I do the most prudent thing I can, and take no notice. Should he attempt
+to intrude himself on me, then it will be time to have him stopped in the
+hall, and I shall do it _cou'te que cou'te._ Ah, my dear friend, mine is
+a difficult and trying position.”
+
+After a very long wait, Ina went down and sung her principal song, with
+the usual bravas and thunders of applause. She was called on twice, and
+as she retired, Severne stepped forward, and, with a low, obsequious bow,
+handed her a beautiful bouquet. She took it with a stately courtesy, but
+never looked nor smiled.
+
+Rhoda saw that and wondered. She thought to herself, “That is carrying
+politeness a long way. To be sure, she is half a foreigner.”
+
+Having done his nightly homage, Severne left the theater, and soon
+afterward the performance concluded, and Ina took her friend home.
+Ashmead was in the hall to show his patroness to her carriage--a duty he
+never failed in. Rhoda shook hands with him, and he said, “Delighted to
+see you here, miss. You will be a great comfort to her.”
+
+The two friends communed till two o'clock in the morning: but the limits
+of my tale forbid me to repeat what passed.
+
+Suffice it to say that Rhoda was fairly puzzled by the situation; but,
+having a great regard for Vizard, saw clearly enough that he ought to be
+sent back to Islip. She thought that perhaps the very sight of her would
+wound his pride, and, finding his mania discovered by a third person, he
+would go of his own accord: so she called on him.
+
+My lord received her with friendly composure, and all his talk was about
+Islip. He did not condescend to explain his presence at Carlisle. He knew
+that _qui s'excuse s'accuse,_ and left her to remonstrate. She had hardly
+courage for that, and hoped it might be unnecessary.
+
+She told Ina what she had done. But her visit was futile: at night there
+was Vizard in his box.
+
+Next day the company opened in Manchester. Vizard was in his box
+there--Severne in front, till Ina's principal song. Then he came round
+and presented his bouquet. But this time he came up to Rhoda Gale, and
+asked her whether a penitent man might pay his respects to her in the
+morning.
+
+She said she believed there were very few penitents in the world.
+
+“I know one,” said he.
+
+“Well, I don't, then,” said the virago. “But _you_ can come, if you are
+not afraid.”
+
+Of course Ina Klosking knew of this appointment two minutes after it was
+made. She merely said, “Do not let him talk you over.”
+
+“He is not so likely to talk me over as you,” said Rhoda.
+
+“You are mistaken,” was Ina's reply. “I am the one person he will never
+deceive again.”
+
+Rhoda Gale received his visit: he did not beat about the bush, nor fence
+at all. He declared at once what he came for. He said, “At the first
+sight of you, whom I have been so ungrateful to, I could not speak; but
+now I throw myself on your forgiveness. I think you must have seen that
+my ingratitude has never sat light on me.”
+
+“I have seen that you were terribly afraid of me,” said she.
+
+“I dare say I was. But I am not afraid of you now; and here, on my knees,
+I implore you to forgive my baseness, my ingratitude. Oh, Miss Gale, you
+don't know what it is to be madly in love; one has no principle, no right
+feeling, against a real passion: and I was madly in love with her. It was
+through fear of losing her I disowned my physician, my benefactress, who
+had saved my life. Miserable wretch! It was through fear of losing her
+that I behaved like a ruffian to my angel wife, and would have committed
+bigamy, and been a felon. What was all this but madness? You, who are so
+wise, will you not forgive me a crime that downright insanity was the
+cause of?”
+
+“Humph! if I understand right, you wish me to forgive you for looking in
+my face, and saying to the woman who had saved your life, 'I don't know
+you?'”
+
+“Yes--if you can. No: now you put it in plain words, I see it is not to
+be forgiven.”
+
+“You are mistaken. It was like a stab to my heart, and I cried bitterly
+over it.”
+
+“Then I deserve to be hanged; that is all.”
+
+“But, on consideration, I believe it is as much your nature to be wicked
+as it is my angel Ina's to be good. So I forgive you that one thing, you
+charming villain.” She held out her hand to him in proof of her good
+faith.
+
+He threw himself on his knees directly, and kissed and mumbled her hand,
+and bedewed it with hysterical tears.
+
+“Oh, don't do that,” said she; “or I'm bound to give you a good kick. I
+hate she men.”
+
+“Give me a moment,” said he, “and I will be a man again.”
+
+He sat with his face in his hands, gulping a little.
+
+“Come,” said she, cocking her head like a keen jackdaw; “now let us have
+the real object of your visit.”
+
+“No, no,” said he, inadvertently--“another time will do for that. I am
+content with your forgiveness. Now I can wait.”
+
+“What for?”
+
+“Can you ask? Do you consider this a happy state of things?”
+
+“Certainly not. But it can't be helped: and we have to thank you for it.”
+
+“It could be helped in time. If you would persuade her to take the first
+step.”
+
+“What step?”
+
+“Not to disown her husband. To let him at least be her friend--her
+penitent, humble friend. We are man and wife. If I were to say so
+publicly, she would admit it. In this respect at least I have been
+generous: will she not be generous too? What harm could it do her if we
+lived under the same roof, and I took her to the theater, and fetched her
+home, and did little friendly offices for her?”
+
+“And so got the thin edge of the wedge in, eh? Mr. Severne, I decline all
+interference in a matter so delicate, and in favor of a person who would
+use her as ill as ever, if he once succeeded in recovering her
+affections.”
+
+So then she dismissed him peremptorily.
+
+But, true to Vizard's interest, she called on him again, and, after a few
+preliminaries, let him know that Severne was every night behind the
+scenes.
+
+A spasm crossed his face. “I am quite aware of that,” said he. “But he is
+never admitted into her house.”
+
+“How do you know?”
+
+“He is under constant surveillance.”
+
+“Spies?”
+
+“No. Thief-takers. All from Scotland Yard.”
+
+“And love brings men down to this. What is it for?”
+
+“When I am sure of your co-operation, I will let you know my hopes.”
+
+“He doubts my friendship,” said Rhoda sorrowfully.
+
+“No; only your discretion.”
+
+“I will be discreet.”
+
+“Well, then, sooner or later, he is sure to form some improper connection
+or other; and then I hope you will aid me in persuading her to divorce
+him.”
+
+“That is not so easy in this country. It is not like our Western States,
+where, the saying is, they give you five minutes at a railway station for
+di--vorce.”
+
+“You forget she is a German Protestant and the marriage was in that
+country. It will be easy enough.”
+
+“Very well; dismiss it from your mind. She will never come before the
+public in that way. Nothing you nor I could urge would induce her.”
+
+Vizard replied, doggedly, “I will never despair, so long as she keeps him
+out of her house.”
+
+Rhoda told Ina Klosking this, and said, “Now it is in your own hands. You
+have only to let your charming villain into your house, and Mr. Vizard
+will return to Islip.”
+
+Ina Klosking buried her face in her hands, and thought.
+
+At night, Vizard in his box, as usual. Severne behind the scenes with his
+bouquet. But this night he stayed for the ballet, to see a French
+danseuse who had joined them. He was acquainted with her before, and had
+a sprightly conversation with her. In other words, he renewed an old
+flirtation.
+
+The next opera night all went as usual. Vizard in the box, looking sadder
+than usual. Rhoda's good sense had not been entirely wasted. Severne,
+with his bouquet, and his grave humility, until the play ended, and La
+Klosking passed out into the hall. Her back was hardly turned when
+Mademoiselle Lafontaine, dressed for the ballet, in a most spicy costume,
+danced up to her old friend, and slapped his face very softly with a
+rose, then sprung away and stood on her defense.
+
+“I'll have that rose,” cried Severne.
+
+“Nenni.”
+
+“And a kiss into the bargain.”
+
+“Jamais.”
+
+“C'est ce que nous verrons.”
+
+He chased her. She uttered a feigned “Ah!” and darted away. He followed
+her; she crossed the scene at the back, where it was dark, bounded over
+an open trap, which she saw just in time, but Severne, not seeing it,
+because she was between him and it, fell through it, and, striking the
+mazarine, fell into the cellar, fifteen feet below the stage.
+
+The screams of the dancers soon brought a crowd round the trap, and
+reached Mademoiselle Klosking just as she was going out to her carriage.
+“There!” she cried. “Another accident!” and she came back, making sure it
+was some poor carpenter come to grief, as usual. On such occasions her
+purse was always ready.
+
+They brought Severne up sensible, but moaning, and bleeding at the
+temple, and looking all streaky about the face.
+
+They were going to take him to the infirmary; but Mademoiselle Klosking,
+with a face of angelic pity, said, “No; he bleeds, he bleeds. He must go
+to my house.”
+
+They stared a little; but it takes a good deal to astonish people in a
+theater.
+
+Severne was carried out, his head hastily bandaged, and he was lifted
+into La Klosking's carriage. One of the people of the theater was
+directed to go on the box, and La Klosking and Ashmead supported him, and
+he was taken to her lodgings. She directed him to be laid on a couch, and
+a physician sent for, Miss Gale not having yet returned from Liverpool,
+whither she had gone to attend a lecture.
+
+Ashmead went for the physician. But almost at the door he met Miss Gale
+and Mr. Vizard.
+
+“Miss,” said he, “you are wanted. There has been an accident. Mr. Severne
+has fallen through a trap, and into the cellar.”
+
+“No bones broken?”
+
+“Not he: he has only broken his head; and that will cost her a broken
+heart.”
+
+“Where is he?”
+
+“Where I hoped never to see him again.
+
+“What! in her house?” said Rhoda and, hurried off at once.
+
+“Mr. Ashmead,” said Vizard, “a word with you.”
+
+“By all means, sir,” said Ashmead, “as we go for the doctor. Dr. Menteith
+has a great name. He lives close by your hotel, sir.”
+
+As they went, Vizard asked him what he meant by saying this accident
+would cost her a broken heart.
+
+“Why, sir,” said Ashmead, “he is on his good behavior to get back; has
+been for months begging and praying just to be let live under the same
+roof. She has always refused. But some fellows have such luck. I don't
+say he fell down a trap on purpose; but he has done it, and no broken
+bones, but plenty of blood. That is the very thing to overcome a woman's
+feelings; and she is not proof against pity. He will have her again. Why,
+she is his nurse now; and see how that will work. We have a week's more
+business here; and, by bad luck, a dead fortnight, all along of Dublin
+falling through unexpectedly. He is as artful as Old Nick; he will spin
+out that broken head of his and make it last all the three weeks; and she
+will nurse him, and he will be weak, and grateful, and cry, and beg her
+pardon six times a day, and she is only a woman, after all: and they are
+man and wife, when all is done: the road is beaten. They will run upon it
+again, till his time is up to play the rogue as bad as ever.”
+
+“You torture me,” said Vizard.
+
+“I am afraid I do, sir. But I feel it my duty. Mr. Vizard, you are a
+noble gentleman, and I am only what you see; but the humblest folk will
+have their likes and dislikes, and I have a great respect for you, sir. I
+can't tell you the mixture of things I feel when I see you in the same
+box every night. Of course, I am her agent, and the house would not be
+complete without you; but as a man I am sorry. Especially now that she
+has let him into her house. Take a humble friend's advice, sir, and cut
+it. Don't you come between any woman and her husband, especially a public
+lady. She will never be more to you than she is. She is a good woman, and
+he must keep gaining ground. He has got the pull. Rouse all your pride,
+sir, and your manhood, and you have got plenty of both, and cut it; don't
+look right nor left, but cut it--and forgive my presumption.”
+
+Vizard was greatly moved. “Give me your hand,” he said; “you are a worthy
+man. I'll act on your advice, and never forget what I owe you. Stick to
+me like a leech, and see me off by the next train, for I am going to tear
+my heart out of my bosom.”
+
+Luckily there was a train in half an hour, and Ashmead saw him off; then
+went to supper. He did not return to Ina's lodgings. He did not want to
+see Severne nursed. He liked the fellow, too; but he saw through him
+clean; and he worshiped Ina Klosking.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+AT one o'clock next day, Ashmead received a note from Mademoiselle
+Klosking, saying, “Arrange with Mr. X----to close my tour with
+Manchester. Pay the fortnight, if required.” She was with the company at
+a month's notice on either side, you must understand.
+
+Instead of going to the manager, he went at once, in utter dismay, to
+Mademoiselle Klosking, and there learned in substance what I must now
+briefly relate.
+
+Miss Gale found Edward Severne deposited on a sofa. Ina was on her knees
+by his side, sponging his bleeding temple, with looks of gentle pity.
+Strange to say, the wound was in the same place as his wife's, but more
+contused, and no large vein was divided. Miss Gale soon stanched that.
+She asked him where his pain was. He said it was in his head and his
+back; and he cast a haggard, anxious look on her.
+
+“Take my arm,” said she. “Now, stand up.”
+
+He tried, but could not, and said his legs were benumbed. Miss Gale
+looked grave.
+
+“Lay him on my bed,” said La Klosking. “That is better than these hard
+couches.”
+
+“You are right,” said Miss Gale. “Ring for the servants. He must be moved
+gently.”
+
+He was carried in, and set upon the edge of the bed, and his coat and
+waistcoat taken off. Then he was laid gently down on the bed, and covered
+with a down quilt.
+
+Doctress Gale then requested Ina to leave the room, while she questioned
+the patient.
+
+Ina retired. In a moment or two Miss Gale came out to her softly.
+
+At sight of her face, La Klosking said, “Oh, dear; it is more serious
+than we thought.”
+
+“Very serious.
+
+“Poor Edward!”
+
+“Collect all your courage, for I cannot lie, either to patient or
+friend.”
+
+“And you are right,” said La Klosking, trembling. “I see he is in
+danger.”
+
+“Worse than that. Where there's danger there is hope. Here there is none.
+HE IS A DEAD MAN!”
+
+“Oh, no! no!”
+
+“He has broken his back, and nothing can save him. His lower limbs have
+already lost sensation. Death will creep over the rest. Do not disturb
+your mind with idle hopes. You have two things to thank God for--that you
+took him into your own house, and that he will die easily. Indeed, were
+he to suffer, I should stupefy him at once, for nothing can _hurt_ him.”
+
+Ina Klosking turned faint and her knees gave way under her. Rhoda
+ministered to her; and while she was so employed, Dr. Menteith was
+announced. He was shown in to the patient, and the accident described to
+him. He questioned the patient, and examined him alone.
+
+He then came out, and said he would draw a prescription. He did so.
+
+“Doctor,” said La Klosking, “tell me the truth. It cannot be worse than I
+fear.”
+
+“Madam,” said the doctor, “medicine can do nothing for him. The spinal
+cord is divided. Give him anything he fancies, and my prescription if he
+suffers pain, not otherwise. Shall I send you a nurse?”
+
+“No,” said Mademoiselle Klosking, _“we_ will nurse him night and day.”
+
+He retired, and the friends entered on their sad duties.
+
+When Severne saw them both by his bedside, with earnest looks of pity, he
+said, “Do not worry yourselves. I'm booked for the long journey. Ah,
+well, I shall die where I ought to have lived, and might have, if I had
+not been a fool.”
+
+Ina wept bitterly.
+
+They nursed him night and day. He suffered little, and when he did, Miss
+Gale stupefied the pain at once; for, as she truly said, “Nothing can
+hurt him.” Vitality gradually retired to his head, and lingered there a
+whole day. But, to his last moment, the art of pleasing never abandoned
+him. Instead of worrying for this or that every moment, he showed in this
+desperate condition singular patience and well-bred fortitude. He checked
+his wife's tears; assured her it was all for the best, and that he was
+reconciled to the inevitable. “I have had a happier time than I deserve,”
+ said he, “and now I have a painless death, nursed by two sweet women. My
+only regret is that I shall not be able to repay your devotion, Ina, nor
+become worthy of your friendship, Miss Gale.”
+
+He died without fear, it being his conviction that he should return after
+death to the precise condition in which he was before birth; and when
+they begged him to see a clergyman, he said, “Pray do not give yourselves
+or him that trouble. I can melt back into the universe without his
+assistance.”
+
+He even died content; for this polished Bohemian had often foreseen that,
+if he lived long, he should die miserably.
+
+But the main feature of his end was his extraordinary politeness. He paid
+Miss Gale compliments just as if he were at his ease on a sofa: and
+scarce an hour before his decease he said, faintly, “I declare--I have
+been so busy--dying--I have forgotten to send my kind regards to good Mr.
+Ashmead. Pray tell him I did not forget his kindness to me.”
+
+He just ceased to live, so quiet was his death, and a smile rested on his
+dead features, and they were as beautiful as ever.
+
+So ended a fair, pernicious creature, endowed too richly with the art of
+pleasing, and quite devoid of principle. Few bad men knew right so well,
+and went so wrong. Ina buried her face for hours on his bed, and kissed
+his cold features and hand. She had told him before he died she would
+recall all her resolutions, if he would live. But he was gone. Death
+buries a man's many faults, and his few virtues rise again. She mourned
+him sincerely, and would not be comforted; she purchased a burying place
+forever, and laid him in it; then she took her aching heart far away, and
+was lost to the public and to all her English friends.
+
+
+The faithful Rhoda accompanied her half way to London; then returned to
+her own duties in Barfordshire.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+I MUST now retrograde a little to relate something rather curious, and I
+hope not uninteresting.
+
+Zoe Vizard had been for some time acting on Mrs. Gale's advice; building,
+planning for the good of the poor, and going out of herself more and
+more. She compared notes constantly with Miss Gale, and conceived a
+friendship for her. It had been a long time coming, because at first she
+disliked Miss Gale's manners very much. But that lady had nursed her
+tenderly, and now advised her, and Zoe, who could not do anything by
+halves, became devoted to her.
+
+As she warmed to her good work, she gave signs of clearer judgment. She
+never mentioned Severne; but she no longer absolutely avoided Ina
+Klosking's name; and one day she spoke of her as a high-principled
+woman; for which the Gale kissed her on the spot.
+
+One name she often uttered, and always with regret and
+self-reproach--Lord Uxmoor's. I think that, now she was herself building
+and planning for the permanent improvement of the poor, she felt the tie
+of a kindred sentiment. Uxmoor was her predecessor in this good work,
+too; and would have been her associate, if she had not been so blind.
+This thought struck deep in her. Her mind ran more and more on Uxmoor,
+his manliness, his courage in her defense, and his gentlemanly fortitude
+and bravery in leaving her, without a word, at her request. Running over
+all these, she often blushed with shame, and her eyes filled with sorrow
+at thinking of how she had treated him; and lost him forever by not
+deserving him.
+
+She even made oblique and timid inquiries, but could learn nothing of
+him, except that he sent periodical remittances to Miss Gale, for
+managing his improvements. These, however, came in through a country
+agent from a town agent, and left no clew.
+
+But one fine day, with no warning except to his own people, Lord Uxmoor
+came home; and the next day rode to Hillstoke to talk matters over with
+Miss Gale. He was fortunate enough to find her at home. He thanked her
+for the zeal and enthusiasm she had shown, and the progress his works had
+made under her supervision.
+
+He was going away without even mentioning the Vizard family.
+
+But the crafty Gale detained him. “Going to Vizard Court?” said she.
+
+“No,” said he, very dryly.
+
+“Ah, I understand; but perhaps you would not mind going with me as far as
+Islip. There is something there I wish you to see.”
+
+“Humph? Is it anything very particular? Because--”
+
+“It is. Three cottages rising, with little flower gardens in front.
+Square plots behind, and arrangements for breeding calves, with other
+ingenious novelties. A new head come into our business, my lord.”
+
+“You have converted Vizard? I thought you would. He is a satirical
+fellow, but he will listen to reason.”
+
+“No, it is not Mr. Vizard; indeed, it is no convert of mine. It is an
+independent enthusiast. But I really believe your work at home had some
+hand in firing her enthusiasm.”
+
+“A lady! Do I know her?”
+
+“You may. I suppose you know everybody in Barfordshire. Will you come?
+Do!”
+
+“Of course I will come, Miss Gale. Please tell one of your people to walk
+my horse down after us.”
+
+She had her hat on in a moment, and walked him down to Islip.
+
+Her tongue was not idle on the road. “You don't ask after the people,”
+ said she. “There's poor Miss Vizard. She had a sad illness. We were
+almost afraid we should lose her.”
+
+“Heaven forbid!” said Uxmoor, startled by this sudden news.
+
+“Mademoiselle Klosking got quite well; and oh! what do you think? Mr.
+Severne turned out to be her husband.”
+
+“What is that?” shouted Uxmoor, and stopped dead short. “Mr. Severne a
+married man!”
+
+“Yes; and Mademoiselle Klosking a married woman.”
+
+“You amaze me. Why, that Mr. Severne was paying his attentions to Miss
+Vizard.”
+
+“So I used to fancy,” said Rhoda carelessly. “But you see it came out he
+was married, and so of course she packed him off with a flea in his ear.”
+
+“Did she? When was that?”
+
+“Let me see, it was the 17th of October.”
+
+“Why, that was the very day I left England.”
+
+“How odd! Why did you not stay another week? Gentlemen are so impatient.
+Never mind, that is an old story now. Here we are; those are the
+cottages. The workmen are at dinner. Ten to one the enthusiast is there:
+this is her time. You stay here. I'll go and see.”
+
+She went off on tiptoe, and peeped and pried here and there, like a young
+witch. Presently she took a few steps toward him, with her finger
+mysteriously to her lips, and beckoned him. He entered into the
+pantomime--she seemed so earnest in it--and came to her softly.
+
+“Do just take a peep in at that opening for a door,” said she, “then
+you'll see her; her back is turned. She is lovely; only, you know, she
+has been ill, and I don't think she is very happy.”
+
+Uxmoor thought this peeping at enthusiasts rather an odd proceeding, but
+Miss Gale had primed his curiosity, and he felt naturally proud of a
+female pupil. He stepped up lightly, looked in at the door, and, to his
+amazement, saw Zoe Vizard sitting on a carpenter's bench, with her lovely
+head in the sun's rays. He started, then gazed, then devoured her with
+his eyes.
+
+What! was this his pupil?
+
+How gentle and sad she seemed! All his stoicism melted at the sight of
+her. She sat in a sweet, pensive attitude, pale and drooping, but, to his
+fancy, lovelier than ever. She gave a little sigh. His heart yearned. She
+took out a letter, read it slowly, and said, softly and slowly, “Poor
+fellow!” He thought he recognized his own handwriting, and could stand no
+more. He rushed, in, and was going to speak to her; but she screamed, and
+no conjurer ever made a card disappear quicker than she did that letter,
+as she bounded away like a deer, and stood, blushing scarlet, and
+palpitating all over.
+
+Uxmoor was ashamed of his _brusquerie._ “What a brute I am to frighten
+you like this!” said he. “Pray forgive me; but the sight of you, after
+all these weary months--and you said 'Poor fellow!'”
+
+“Did I?” said Zoe, faintly, looking scared.
+
+“Yes, sweet Zoe, and you were reading a letter.”
+
+No reply.
+
+“I thought the poor fellow might be myself. Not that I am to be pitied,
+if you think of me still.”
+
+“I do, then--very often. Oh, Lord Uxmoor, I want to go down on my knees
+to you.”
+
+“That is odd, now; for it is exactly what I should like to do to you.”
+
+“What for? It is I who have behaved so ill.”
+
+“Never mind that; I love you.”
+
+“But you mustn't. You must love some worthy person.”
+
+“Oh, you leave that to me. I have no other intention. But may I just see
+whose letter you were reading?”
+
+“Oh, pray don't ask me.”
+
+“I insist on knowing.”
+
+“I will not tell you. There it is.” She gave it to him with a guilty air,
+and hid her face.
+
+“Dear Zoe, suppose I were to repeat the offer I made here?”
+
+“I advise you not,” said she, all in a flurry.
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Because. Because--I might say 'Yes.'”
+
+“Well, then I'll take my chance once more. Zoe, will you try and love
+me?”
+
+“Try? I believe I do love you, or nearly. I think of you very often.”
+
+“Then you will do something to make me happy.”
+
+“Anything; everything.”
+
+“Will you marry me?”
+
+“Yes, that I will,” said Zoe, almost impetuously; “and then,” with a
+grand look of conscious beauty, “I can _make_ you forgive me.”
+
+Uxmoor, on this, caught her in his arms, and kissed her with such fire
+that she uttered a little stifled cry of alarm; but it was soon followed
+by a sigh of complacency, and she sunk, resistless, on his manly breast.
+
+So, after two sieges, he carried that fair citadel by assault.
+
+Then let not the manly heart despair, nor take a mere brace of “Noes”
+ from any woman. Nothing short of three negatives is serious.
+
+They walked out in arm-in-arm and very close to each other; and he left
+her, solemnly engaged.
+
+Leaving this pair to the delights of courtship, and growing affection on
+Zoe's side--for a warm attachment of the noblest kind did grow, by
+degrees, out of her penitence, and esteem, and desire to repair her
+fault--I must now take up the other thread of this narrative, and
+apologize for having inverted the order of events; for it was, in
+reality, several days after this happy scene that Mademoiselle Klosking
+sent for Miss Gale.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+VIZARD, then, with Ashmead, returned home in despair; and Zoe, now happy
+in her own mind, was all tenderness and sisterly consolation. They opened
+their hearts to each other, and she showed her wish to repay the debt she
+owed him. How far she might have succeeded, in time, will never be known.
+For he had hardly been home a week, when Miss Gale returned, all in
+black, and told him Severne was dead and buried.
+
+He was startled, and even shocked, remembering old times; but it was not
+in human nature he should be sorry. Not to be indecorously glad at so
+opportune an exit was all that could be expected from him.
+
+When she had given him the details, his first question was, “How did she
+bear it?”
+
+“She is terribly cut up--more than one would think possible; for she was
+ice and marble to him before he was hurt to death.”
+
+“Where is she?”
+
+“Gone to London. She will write to me, I suppose--poor dear. But one must
+give her time.”
+
+From that hour Vizard was in a state of excitement, hoping to hear from
+Ina Klosking, or about her; but unwilling, from delicacy, to hurry
+matters.
+
+At last he became impatient, and wrote to Ashmead, whose address he had,
+and said, frankly, he had a delicacy in intruding on Mademoiselle
+Klosking, in her grief. Yet his own feelings would not allow him to seem
+to neglect her. Would Mr. Ashmead, then, tell him where she was, as she
+had not written to any one in Barfordshire--not even to her tried friend,
+Miss Gale.
+
+He received an answer by return of post.
+
+
+“DEAR SIR--I am grieved to tell you that Mademoiselle Klosking has
+retired from public life. She wrote to me, three weeks ago, from Dover,
+requesting me to accept, as a token of her esteem, the surplus money I
+hold in hand for her--I always drew her salary--and bidding me farewell.
+The sum included her profits by psalmody, minus her expenses, and was so
+large it could never have been intended as a mere recognition of my
+humble services; and I think I have seldom felt so down-hearted as on
+receiving this princely donation. It has enabled me to take better
+offices, and it may be the foundation of a little fortune; but I feel
+that I have lost the truly great lady who has made a man of me. Sir, the
+relish is gone for my occupation: I can never be so happy as I was in
+working the interests of that great genius, whose voice made our leading
+soprani sound like whistles, and who honored me with her friendship. Sir,
+she was not like other leading ladies. She never bragged, never spoke ill
+of any one; and _you_ can testify to her virtue and her discretion.
+
+“I am truly sorry to learn from you that she has written to no one in
+Barfordshire. I saw, by her letter to me, she had left the stage; but her
+dropping you all looks as if she had left the world. I do hope she has
+not been so mad as to go into one of those cursed convents.
+
+“Mr. Vizard, I will now write to friends in all the Continental towns
+where there is good music. She will not be able to keep away from that
+long. I will also send photographs; and hope we may hear something. If
+not, perhaps a _judicious advertisement_ might remind her that she is
+inflicting pain upon persons to whom she is dear. I am, sir, your obliged
+and grateful servant,
+
+“JOSEPH ASHMEAD.”
+
+
+Here was a blow. I really believe Vizard felt this more deeply than all
+his other disappointments.
+
+He brooded over it for a day or two; and then, as he thought Miss Gale a
+very ill-used person, though not, of course, so ill-used as himself, he
+took her Ashmead's letter.
+
+“This is nice!” said she. “There--I must give up loving women. Besides,
+they throw me over the moment a man comes, if it happens to be the right
+one.”
+
+“Unnatural creatures!” said Vizard.
+
+“Ungrateful, at all events.”
+
+“Do you think she has gone into a convent?”
+
+“Not she. In the first place, she is a Protestant; and, in the second,
+she is not a fool.”
+
+“I will advertise.”
+
+“The idea!”
+
+“Do you think I am going to sit down with my hands before me, and lose
+her forever?”
+
+“No, indeed; I don't think you are that sort of a man at all, ha! ha!”
+
+“Oh, Miss Gale, pity me. Tell me how to find her. That Fanny Dover says
+women are only enigmas to men; they understand one another.”
+
+“What,” said Rhoda, turning swiftly on him; “does that little chit
+pretend to read my noble Ina?”
+
+“If she cannot, perhaps you can. You are so shrewd. Do tell me, what does
+it all mean?”
+
+“It means nothing at all, I dare say; only a woman's impulse. They are
+such geese at times, every one of them.”
+
+“Oh, if I did but know what country she is in, I would ransack it.”
+
+“Hum!--countries are biggish places.”
+
+“I don't care.”
+
+“What will you give me to tell you where she is at this moment?”
+
+“All I have in the world.”
+
+“That is sufficient. Well, then, first assign me your estates; then fetch
+me an ordnance map of creation, and I will put my finger on her.”
+
+“You little mocking fiend, you!”
+
+“I am not. I'm a tall, beneficent angel; and I'll tell you where she
+is--for nothing. Keep your land: who wants it?--it is only a bother.”
+
+“For pity's sake, don't trifle with me.”
+
+“I never will, where your heart is interested. She is at Zutzig.”
+
+“Ah, you good girl! She has written to you.”
+
+“Not a line, the monster! And I'll serve her out. I'll teach her to play
+hide-and-seek with Gale, M.D.!”
+
+“Zutzig!” said Vizard; “how can you know?”
+
+“What does that matter? Well, yes--I will reveal the mental process.
+First of all, she has gone to her mother.”
+
+“How do you know that?”
+
+“Oh, dear, dear, dear! Because that is where every daughter goes in
+trouble. I should--she _has._ Fancy you not seeing that--why, Fanny Dover
+would have told you that much in a moment. But now you will have to thank
+_my_ mother for teaching me Attention, the parent of Memory. Pray, sir,
+who were the witnesses to that abominable marriage of hers?”
+
+“I remember two, Baron Hompesch--”
+
+“No, Count Hompesch.”
+
+“And Count Meurice.”
+
+“Viscount. What, have you forgotten Herr Formes, Fraulein Graafe, Zug the
+Capellmeister, and her very mother? Come now, whose daughter is she?”
+
+“I forget, I'm sure.”
+
+“Walter Ferris and Eva Klosking, of Zutzig, in Denmark. Pack--start for
+Copenhagen. Consult an ordnance map there. Find out Zutzig. Go to Zutzig,
+and you have got her. It is some hole in a wilderness, and she can't
+escape.”
+
+“You clever little angel! I'll be there in three days. Do you really
+think I shall succeed?”
+
+“Your own fault if you don't. She has run into a _cul-de-sac_ through
+being too clever; and, besides, women sometimes run away just to be
+caught, and hide on purpose to be found. I should not wonder if she has
+said to herself, 'He will find me if he loves me so very, very much--I'll
+try him.'”
+
+“Not a word more, angelic fox,” said Vizard; “I'm off to Zutzig.”
+
+He went out on fire. She opened the window and screeched after him,
+“Everything is fair after her behavior to me. Take her a book of those
+spiritual songs she is so fond of. 'Johnny comes marching home,' is worth
+the lot, I reckon.”
+
+Away went Vizard; found Copenhagen with ease; Zutzig with difficulty,
+being a small village. But once there, he soon found the farmhouse of Eva
+Klosking. He drove up to the door. A Danish laborer came out from the
+stable directly; and a buxom girl, with pale golden hair, opened the
+door. These two seized his luggage, and conveyed it into the house, and
+the hired vehicle to the stable. Vizard thought it must be an inn.
+
+The girl bubbled melodious sounds, and ran off and brought a sweet,
+venerable name. Vizard recognized Eva Klosking at once. The old lady
+said, “Few strangers come here--are you not English?”
+
+“Yes, madam.”
+
+“It is Mr. Vizard--is it not?”
+
+“Yes, madam.”
+
+“Ah, sir, my daughter will welcome you, but not more heartily than I do.
+My child has told me all she owes to you”--then in Danish, “God bless the
+hour you come under this roof.”
+
+Vizard's heart beat tumultuously, wondering how Ina Klosking would
+receive him. The servant had told her a tall stranger was come. She knew
+in a moment who it was; so she had the advantage of being prepared.
+
+She came to him, her cheeks dyed with blushes, and gave him both hands.
+“You here!” said she; “oh, happy day! Mother, he must have the south
+chamber. I will go and prepare it for him. Tecla!--Tecla!”--and she was
+all hostess. She committed him to her mother, while she and the servant
+went upstairs.
+
+He felt discomfited a little. He wanted to know, all in a moment, whether
+she would love him.
+
+However, Danish hospitality has its good side. He soon found out he might
+live the rest of his days there if he chose.
+
+He soon got her alone, and said, “You knew I should find you, cruel one.”
+
+“How could I dream of such a thing?” said she, blushing.
+
+“Oh, Love is a detective. You said to yourself, 'If he loves me as I
+ought to be loved, he will search Europe for me; but he will find me.'”
+
+“Oh, then it was not to be at peace and rest on my mother's bosom I came
+here; it was to give you the trouble of running after me. Oh, fie!”
+
+“You are right. I am a vain fool.”
+
+“No, that you are not. After all, how do I know all that was in my heart?
+(Ahem!) Be sure of this, you are very welcome. I must go and see about
+your dinner.”
+
+In that Danish farmhouse life was very primitive. Eva Klosking, and both
+her daughters, helped the two female servants, or directed them, in every
+department. So Ina, who was on her defense, had many excuses for escaping
+Vizard, when he pressed her too hotly. But at last she was obliged to
+say, “Oh, pray, my friend--we are in Denmark: here widows are expected to
+be discreet.”
+
+“But that is no reason why the English fellows who adore them should be
+discreet.”
+
+“Perhaps not: but then the Danish lady runs away.”
+
+Which she did.
+
+But, after the bustle of the first day, he had so many opportunities. He
+walked with her, sat with her while she worked, and hung over her,
+entranced, while she sung. He produced the book from Vizard Court without
+warning, and she screamed with delight at sight of it, and caught his
+hand in both hers and kissed it. She reveled in those sweet strains which
+had comforted her in affliction: and oh, the eyes she turned on him after
+singing any song in this particular book! Those tender glances thrilled
+him to the very marrow.
+
+To tell the honest truth, his arrival was a godsend to Ina Klosking. When
+she first came home to her native place, and laid her head on her
+mother's bosom, she was in Elysium. The house, the wood fires, the cooing
+doves, the bleating calves, the primitive life, the recollections of
+childhood--all were balm to her, and she felt like ending her days there.
+But, as the days rolled on, came a sense of monotony and excessive
+tranquillity. She was on the verge of _ennui_ when Vizard broke in upon
+her.
+
+From that moment there was no stagnation. He made life very pleasant to
+her; only her delicacy took the alarm at his open declarations; she
+thought them so premature.
+
+At last he said to her, one day, “I begin to fear you will never love me
+as I love you.”
+
+“Who knows?” said she. “Time works wonders.”
+
+“I wonder,” said he, “whether you will ever marry any other man?”
+
+Ina was shocked at that. “Oh, my friend, how could I--unless,” said she,
+with a sly side-glance, “you consented.”
+
+“Consent? I'd massacre him.”
+
+Ina turned toward him. “You asked my hand at a time when you thought
+me--I don't know what you thought--that is a thing no woman could forget.
+And now you have come all this way for me. I am yours, if you can wait
+for me.”
+
+He caught her in his arms. She disengaged herself, gently, and her hand
+rested an unnecessary moment on his shoulder. “Is that how you understand
+'waiting?'” said she, with a blush, but an indulgent smile.
+
+“What is the use waiting?”
+
+“It is a matter of propriety.”
+
+“How long are we to wait?”
+
+“Only a few months. My friend, it is like a boy to be too impatient.
+Alas! would you marry me in my widow's cap?”
+
+“Of course I would. Now, Ina, love, a widow who has been two years
+separated from her husband!”
+
+“Certainly, that makes a difference--in one's own mind. But one must
+respect the opinion of the world. Dear friend, it is of you I think,
+though I speak of myself.”
+
+“You are an angel. Take your own time. After all, what does it matter? I
+don't leave Zutzig without you.”
+
+Ina's pink tint and sparkling eyes betrayed anything but horror at that
+insane resolution. However, she felt it her duty to say that it was
+unfortunate she should always be the person to distract him from his home
+duties.
+
+“Oh, never mind them,” said this single-hearted lover. “I have appointed
+Miss Gale viceroy.”
+
+However, one day he had a letter from Zoe, telling him that Lord Uxmoor
+was now urging her to name the day; but she had declined to do that, not
+knowing when it might suit him to be at Vizard Court. “But, dearest,”
+ said she, “mind, you are not to hurry home for me. I am very happy as I
+am, and I hope you will soon be as happy, love. She is a noble woman.”
+
+The latter part of this letter tempted Vizard to show it to Ina. He soon
+found his mistake. She kissed it, and ordered him off. He remonstrated.
+She put on, for the first time in Denmark, her marble look, and said,
+“You will lessen my esteem, if you are cruel to your sister. Let her name
+the wedding-day at once; and you must be there to give her away, and
+bless her union, with a brother's love.”
+
+He submitted, but a little sullenly, and said it was very hard.
+
+He wrote to his sister, accordingly, and she named the day, and Vizard
+settled to start for home, and be in time.
+
+As to the proprieties, he had instructed Miss Maitland and Fanny Dover,
+and given them and La Gale _carte blanche._ It was to be a magnificent
+wedding.
+
+This being excitement, Fanny Dover was in paradise. Moreover, a
+rosy-cheeked curate had taken the place of the venerable vicar, and Miss
+Dover's threat to flirt out the stigma of a nun was executed with
+promptitude, zeal, pertinacity, and the dexterity that comes of practice.
+When the day came for his leaving Zutzig, Vizard was dejected. “Who knows
+when we may meet again?” said he.
+
+Ina consoled him. “Do not be sad, dear friend. You are doing your duty;
+and as you do it partly to please me, I ought to try and reward you;
+ought I not?” And she gave him a strange look.
+
+“I advise you not to press that question,” said he.
+
+At the very hour of parting, Ina's eyes were moist with tenderness, but
+there was a smile on her face very expressive; yet he could not make out
+what it meant. She did not cry. He thought that hard. It was his opinion
+that women could always cry. She might have done the usual thing just to
+gratify him.
+
+He reached home in good time: and played the _grand seigneur_--nobody
+could do it better when driven to it--to do honor to his sister. She was
+a peerless bride: she stood superior with ebon locks and coal black eyes,
+encircled by six bridemaids--all picked blondes. The bevy, with that
+glorious figure in the middle, seemed one glorious and rare flower.
+
+After the wedding, the breakfast; and then the traveling carriage; the
+four liveried postilions bedecked with favors.
+
+But the bride wept on Vizard's neck; and a light seemed to leave the
+house when she was gone. The carriages kept driving away one after
+another till four o'clock: and then Vizard sat disconsolate in his study,
+and felt very lonely.
+
+Yet a thing no bigger than a leaf sufficed to drive away this somber
+mood, a piece of amber-colored paper scribbled on with a pencil: a
+telegram from Ashmead: “Good news: lost sheep turned up. Is now with her
+mother at Claridge's Hotel.”
+
+Then Vizard was in raptures. Now he understood Ina's composure, and the
+half sly look she had given him, and her dry eyes at parting, and other
+things. He tore up to London directly, with a telegram flying ahead:
+burst in upon her, and had her in his arms in a moment, before her
+mother: she fenced no longer, but owned he had gained her love, as he had
+deserved it in every way.
+
+She consented to be married that week in London: only she asked for a
+Continental tour before entering Vizard Court as his wife; but she did
+not stipulate even for that--she only asked it submissively, as one whose
+duty it now was to obey, not dictate.
+
+They were married in St. George's Church very quietly, by special
+license. Then they saw her mother off, and crossed to Calais. They spent
+two happy months together on the Continent, and returned to London.
+
+But Vizard was too old-fashioned, and too proud of his wife, to sneak
+into Vizard Court with her. He did not make it a county matter; but he
+gave the village such a _fete_ as had not been seen for many a day. The
+preparations were intrusted to Mr. Ashmead, at Ina's request. “He will be
+sure to make it theatrical,” she said; “but perhaps the simple villagers
+will admire that, and it will amuse you and me, love: and the poor dear
+old Thing will be in his glory--I hope he will not drink too much.”
+
+Ashmead was indeed in his glory. Nothing had been seen in a play that he
+did not electrify Islip with, and the surrounding villages. He pasted
+large posters on walls and barn doors, and his small bills curled round
+the patriarchs of the forest and the roadside trees, and blistered the
+gate posts.
+
+The day came. A soapy pole, with a leg of mutton on high for the
+successful climber. Races in sacks. Short blindfold races with
+wheelbarrows. Pig with a greasy tail, to be won by him who could catch
+him and shoulder him, without touching any other part of him; bowls of
+treacle for the boys to duck heads in and fish out coins; skittles, nine
+pins, Aunt Sally, etc., etc., etc.
+
+But what astonished the villagers most was a May-pole, with long ribbons,
+about which ballet girls, undisguised as Highlanders, danced, and wound
+and unwound the party-colored streamers, to the merry fiddle, and then
+danced reels upon a platform, then returned to their little tent: but out
+again and danced hornpipes undisguised as Jacky Tars.
+
+Beer flowed from a sturdy regiment of barrels. “The Court” kitchen and
+the village bakehouse kept pouring forth meats, baked, boiled, and roast;
+there was a pile of loaves like a haystack; and they roasted an ox whole
+on the Green; and, when they found they were burning him raw, they
+fetched the butcher, like sensible fellows, and dismembered the giant,
+and so roasted him reasonably.
+
+In the midst of the reveling and feasting, Vizard and Mrs. Vizard were
+driven into Islip village in the family coach, with four horses streaming
+with ribbons.
+
+They drove round the Green, bowing and smiling in answer to the
+acclamations and blessings of the poor, and then to Vizard Court. The
+great doors flew open. The servants, male and female, lined the hall on
+both sides, and received her bowing and courtesying low, on the very spot
+where she had nearly met her death; her husband took her hand and
+conducted her in state to her own apartment.
+
+It was open house to all that joyful day, and at night magnificent
+fireworks on the sweep, seen from the drawing-room by Mrs. Vizard, Miss
+Maitland, Miss Gale, Miss Dover, and the rosy-cheeked curate, whom she
+had tied to her apron-strings.
+
+At two in the morning, Mr. Harris showed Mr. Ashmead to his couch. Both
+gentlemen went upstairs a little graver than any of our modern judges,
+and firm as a rock; but their firmness resembled that of a roof rather
+than a wall; for these dignities as they went made one inverted V--so, A.
+
+
+It is time the “Woman-hater” drew to a close, for the woman-hater is
+spoiled. He begins sarcastic speeches, from force of habit, but stops
+short in the middle. He is a very happy man, and owes it to a woman, and
+knows it. He adores her; and to love well is to be happy. But, besides
+that, she watches over his happiness and his good with that unobtrusive
+but minute vigilance which belongs to her sex, and is often misapplied,
+but not so very often as cynics say. Even the honest friendship between
+him and the remarkable woman he calls his “viragos” gives him many a
+pleasant hour. He is still a humorist, though cured of his fling at the
+fair sex. His last tolerable hit was at the monosyllabic names of the
+immortal composers his wife had disinterred in his library. Says he to
+parson Denison, hot from Oxford, “They remind me of the Oxford poets in
+the last century:
+
+“Alma novem celebres genuit Rhedyeina poetas. Bubb, Stubb, Grubb, Crabbe,
+Trappe. Brome, Carey, Tickell, Evans.”
+
+As for Ina Vizard, La Klosking no longer, she has stepped into her new
+place with her native dignity, seemliness and composure. At first, a few
+county ladies put their little heads together, and prepared to give
+themselves airs; but the beauty, dignity, and enchanting grace of Mrs.
+Vizard swept this little faction away like small dust. Her perfect
+courtesy, her mild but deep dislike of all feminine back-biting, her dead
+silence about the absent, except when she can speak kindly--these rare
+traits have forced, by degrees, the esteem and confidence of her own sex.
+As for the men, they accepted her at once with enthusiasm. She and Lady
+Uxmoor are the acknowledged belles of the county. Lady Uxmoor's face is
+the most admired; but Mrs. Vizard comes next, and her satin shoulders,
+statuesque bust and arms, and exquisite hand, turn the scale with some.
+But when she speaks, she charms; and when she sings, all competition
+dies.
+
+She is faithful to music, and especially to sacred music. She is not very
+fond of singing at parties, and sometimes gives offense by declining.
+Music sets fools talking, because it excites them, and then their folly
+comes out by the road nature has provided. But when Mrs. Vizard has to
+sing in one key, and people talk in five other keys, that gives this
+artist such physical pain that she often declines, merely to escape it.
+It does not much mortify her vanity, she has so little.
+
+She always sings in church, and sings out, too, when she is there; and
+plays the harmonium. She trains the villagers--girls, boys and
+adults--with untiring good humor and patience.
+
+Among her pupils are two fine voices--Tom Wilder, a grand bass, and the
+rosy-cheeked curate, a greater rarity still, a genuine counter-tenor.
+
+These two can both read music tolerably; but the curate used to sing
+everything, however full of joy, with a pathetic whine, for which Vizard
+chaffed him in vain; but Mrs. Vizard persuaded him out of it, where
+argument and satire failed.
+
+People come far and near to hear the hymns at Islip Church, sung in full
+harmony--trebles, tenors, counter-tenor, and bass.
+
+A trait--she allows nothing to be sung in church unrehearsed. The
+rehearsals are on Saturday night, and never shirked, such is the respect
+for “Our Dame.” To be sure, “Our Dame” fills the stomachs and wets the
+whistles of her faithful choir on Saturday nights.
+
+On Sunday nights there are performances of sacred music in the great
+dining-hall. But these are rather more ambitious than those in the
+village church. The performers meet on that happy footing of camaraderie
+the fine arts create, the superior respect shown to Mrs. Vizard being
+mainly paid to her as the greater musician. They attack anthems and
+services; and a trio, by the parson, the blacksmith, and “Our Dame,” is
+really an extraordinary treat, owing to the great beauty of the voices.
+It is also piquant to hear the female singer constantly six, and often
+ten, notes below the male counter-tenor; but then comes Wilder with his
+diapason, and the harmony is noble; the more so that Mrs. Vizard
+rehearses her pupils in the swell--a figure too little practiced in
+music, and nowhere carried out as she does it.
+
+One night the organist of Barford was there. They sung Kent's service in
+F, and Mrs. Vizard still admired it. She and the parson swelled in the
+duet, “To be a Light to lighten the Gentiles,” etc. Organist approved the
+execution, but said the composition was a meager thing, quite out of
+date. “We have much finer things now by learned men of the day.”
+
+“Ah,” said she, “bring me one.”
+
+So, next Sunday, he brought her a learned composition, and played it to
+her, preliminary to their singing it. But she declined it on the spot.
+“What!” said she. “Mr. X., would you compare this meaningless stuff with
+Kent in F? Why, in Kent, the dominant sentiment of each composition is
+admirably preserved. His 'Magnificat' is lofty jubilation, with a free,
+onward rush. His 'Dimittis' is divine repose after life's fever. But this
+poor pedant's 'Magnificat' begins with a mere crash, and then falls into
+the pathetic--an excellent thing in its place, but not in a song of
+triumph. As to his 'Dimittis,' it simply defies the words. This is no
+Christian sunset. It is not good old Simeon gently declining to his rest,
+content to close those eyes which had seen the world's salvation. This is
+a tempest, and all the windows rattling, and the great Napoleon dying,
+amid the fury of the elements, with 'te'te d'arme'e!' on his dying lips,
+and 'battle' in his expiring soul. No, sir; if the learned Englishmen of
+this day can do nothing nearer the mark than DOLEFUL MAGNIFICATS and
+STORMY NUNC DIMITTISES, I shall stand faithful to poor dead Kent, and his
+fellows--they were my solace in sickness and sore trouble.”
+
+In accordance with these views of vocal music, and desirous to expand its
+sphere, Mrs. Vizard has just offered handsome prizes in the county for
+the best service, in which the dominant sentiment of the words shall be
+as well preserved as in Kent's despised service; and another prize to
+whoever can set any famous short secular poem, or poetical passage (not
+in ballad meter), to good and appropriate music.
+
+This has elicited several pieces. The composers have tried their hands on
+Dryden's Ode; on the meeting of Hector and Andromache (Pope's “Homer”);
+on two short poems of Tennyson; etc., etc.
+
+But it is only the beginning of a good thing. The pieces, are under
+consideration. Vizard says the competitors are trifiers. _He_ shall set
+Mr. Arnold's version of “Hero and Leander” to the harp, and sing it
+himself. This, he intimates, will silence competition and prove an era. I
+think so too, if his music should _happen_ to equal the lines in value.
+But I hardly think it will, because the said Vizard, though he has taste
+and ear, does not know one note from another. So I hope “Hero and
+Leander” will fall into abler hands; and in any case, I trust Mrs. Vizard
+will succeed in her worthy desire to enlarge, very greatly, the sphere
+and the nobility of vocal music. It is a desire worthy of this remarkable
+character, of whom I now take my leave with regret.
+
+I must own that regret is caused in part by my fear that I may not have
+done her all the justice I desired.
+
+I have long felt and regretted that many able female writers are doing
+much to perpetuate the petty vices of a sex, which, after all, is at
+present but half educated, by devoting three thick volumes to such empty
+women as Biography, though a lower art than Fiction, would not waste
+three pages on. They plead truth and fidelity to nature. “We write the
+average woman, for the average woman to read,” say they. But they are not
+consistent; for the average woman is under five feet, and rather ugly.
+Now these paltry women are all beautiful--[Greek], as Homer hath it.
+
+Fiction has just as much right to select large female souls as Biography
+or Painting has; and to pick out a selfish, shallow, illiterate creature,
+with nothing but beauty, and bestow three enormous volumes on her, is to
+make a perverse selection, beauty being, after all, rarer in women than
+wit, sense, and goodness. It is as false and ignoble in art, as to marry
+a pretty face without heart and brains is silly in conduct.
+
+Besides, it gives the female _reader_ a low model instead of a high one,
+and so does her a little harm; whereas a writer ought to do good--or try,
+at all events.
+
+Having all this in my mind, and remembering how many noble women have
+shone like stars in every age and every land, and feeling sure that, as
+civilization advances, such women will become far more common, I have
+tried to look ahead and paint La Klosking.
+
+But such portraiture is difficult. It is like writing a statue.
+
+“Qui mihi non credit faciat licet ipse periclum, Mox fuerit studis
+aequior ille meis.”
+
+Harrington Vizard, Esq., caught Miss Fanny Dover on the top round but one
+of the steps of his library. She looked down, pinkish, and said she was
+searching for “Tillotson's Sermons.”
+
+“What on earth can you want of them?”
+
+“To improve my mind, to be sure,” said the minx.
+
+Vizard said, “Now you stay there, miss--don't you move;” and he sent for
+Ina. She came directly, and he said, “Things have come to a climax. My
+lady is hunting for 'Tillotson's Sermons.' Poor Denison!” (That was the
+rosy curate's name.)
+
+“Well,” said Fanny, turning red, “I told you I _should._ Why should I be
+good any longer? All the sick are cured one way or other, and I am myself
+again.”
+
+“Humph!” said Vizard. “Unfortunately for your little plans of conduct,
+the heads of this establishment, here present, have sat in secret
+committee, and your wings are to be clipped--by order of council.”
+
+“La!” said Fanny, pertly.
+
+Vizard imposed silence with a lordly wave. “It is a laughable thing; but
+this divine is in earnest. He has revealed his hopes and fears to me.”
+
+“Then he is a great baby,” said Fanny, coming down the steps. “No, no; we
+are both too poor.” And she vented a little sigh.
+
+“Not you. The vicar has written to vacate. Now, I don't like you much,
+because you never make me laugh; but I'm awfully fond of Denison; and, if
+you will marry my dear Denison, you shall have the vicarage; it is a fat
+one.”
+
+“Oh, cousin!”
+
+“And,” said Mrs. Vizard, “he permits me to furnish it for you. You and I
+will make it 'a bijou.'”
+
+Fanny kissed them both, impetuously: then said she would have a little
+cry. No sooner said than done. In due course she was Mrs. Denison, and
+broke a solemn vow that she never would teach girls St. Matthew.
+
+ Like coquettes in general, who have had their fling at the proper time,
+she makes a pretty good wife; but she has one fault--she is too hard upon
+girls who flirt.
+
+ Mr. Ashmead flourishes. Besides his agency she sometimes treats for a
+new piece, collects a little company, and tours the provincial theaters.
+He always plays them a week at Taddington, and with perfect gravity loses
+six pounds per night. Then he has a “bespeak,” Vizard or Uxmoor turn
+about. There is a line of carriages; the snobs crowd in to see the
+gentry. Vizard pays twenty pounds for his box, and takes twenty pounds'
+worth of tickets, and Joseph is in his glory, and stays behind the
+company to go to Islip Church next day, and spend a happy night at the
+Court. After that he says he feels _good_ for three or four days.
+
+Mrs. Gale now leases the Hillstoke farm of Vizard, and does pretty well.
+She breeds a great many sheep and cattle. The high ground and sheltering
+woods suit them. She makes a little money every year, and gets a very
+good house for nothing. Doctress Gale is still all eyes, and notices
+everything. She studies hard, and practices a little. They tried to keep
+her out of the Taddington infirmary; but she went, almost crying, to
+Vizard, and he exploded with wrath. He consulted Lord Uxmoor, and between
+them the infirmary was threatened with the withdrawal of eighty annual
+subscriptions if they persisted. The managers caved directly, and
+Doctress Gale is a steady visitor.
+
+A few mothers are coming to their senses and sending for her to their
+unmarried daughters. This is the main source of her professional income.
+She has, however, taken one enormous fee from a bon vivant, whose life
+she saved by esculents. She told him at once he was beyond the reach of
+medicine, and she could do nothing for him unless he chose to live in her
+house, and eat and drink only what she should give him. He had a horror
+of dying, though he had lived so well; so he submitted, and she did
+actually cure that one glutton. But she says she will never do it again.
+“After forty years of made dishes they ought to be content to die; it is
+bare justice,” quoth Rhoda Gale, M.D.
+
+An apothecary in Barford threatened to indict this Gallic physician. But
+the other medical men dissuaded him, partly from liberality, partly from
+discretion: the fine would have been paid by public subscription twenty
+times over and nothing gained but obloquy. The doctress would never have
+yielded.
+
+She visits, and prescribes, and laughs at the law, as love is said to
+laugh at locksmiths.
+
+To be sure, in this country, a law is no law, when it has no foundation
+in justice, morality, or public policy.
+
+Happy in her position, and in her friends, she now reviews past events
+with the candor of a mind that loves truth sincerely. She went into
+Vizard's study one day, folded her arms, and delivered herself as
+follows: “I guess there's something I ought to say to you. When I told
+you about our treatment at Edinburgh, the wound still bled, and I did not
+measure my words as I ought, professing science. Now I feel a call to say
+that the Edinburgh school was, after all, more liberal to us than any
+other in Great Britain or Ireland. The others closed the door in our
+faces. This school opened it half. At first there was a liberal spirit;
+but the friends of justice got frightened, and the unionists stronger. We
+were overpowered at every turn. But what I omitted to impress on you, is,
+that when we were defeated, it was always by very small majorities. That
+was so even with the opinions of the judges, which have been delivered
+since I told you my tale. There were six jurists, and only seven
+pettifoggers. It was so all through. Now, for practical purposes, the act
+of a majority is the act of a body. It must be so. It is the way of the
+world: but when an accurate person comes to describe a business, and deal
+with the character of a whole university, she is not to call the larger
+half the whole, and make the matter worse than it was. That is not
+scientific. Science discriminates.”
+
+I am not sorry the doctress offered this little explanation; it accords
+with her sober mind and her veneration of truth. But I could have
+dispensed with it for one. In Britain, when we are hurt, we howl; and the
+deuce is in it if the weak may not howl when the strong overpower them by
+the arts of the weak.
+
+Should that part of my tale rouse any honest sympathy with this English
+woman who can legally prescribe, consult, and take fees, in France, but
+not in England, though she could eclipse at a public examination
+nine-tenths of those who can, it may be as well to inform them that, even
+while her narrative was in the press, our Government declared it would do
+something for the relief of medical women, but would sleep upon it.
+
+This is, on the whole, encouraging. But still, where there is no stimulus
+of faction or personal interest to urge a measure, but only such
+“unconsidered trifles” as public justice and public policy, there are
+always two great dangers: 1. That the sleep may know no waking; 2. That
+after too long a sleep the British legislator may jump out of bed all in
+a hurry, and do the work ineffectually; for nothing leads oftener to
+reckless haste than long delay.
+
+I hope, then, that a few of my influential readers will be vigilant, and
+challenge a full discussion by the whole mind of Parliament, so that no
+temporary, pettifogging half-measure may slip into a thin house--like a
+weasel into an empty barn--and so obstruct for many years legislation
+upon durable principle. The thing lies in a nutshell. The Legislature has
+been entrapped. It never intended to outlaw women in the matter. The
+persons who have outlawed them are all subjects, and the engines of
+outlawry have been “certificates of attendance on lectures,” and “public
+examinations.” By closing the lecture room and the examination hall to
+all women--learned or unlearned--a clique has outlawed a population,
+under the letter, not the spirit, of a badly written statute. But it is
+for the three estates of the British realm to leave off scribbling
+statutes, and learn to write them, and to bridle the egotism of cliques,
+and respect the nation. The present form of government exists on that
+understanding, and so must all forms of government in England. And it is
+so easy. It only wants a little singleness of mind and common sense.
+Years ago certificates of attendance on various lectures were reasonably
+demanded. They were a slight presumptive evidence of proficiency, and had
+a supplementary value, because the public examinations were so loose and
+inadequate; but once establish a stiff, searching, sufficient,
+incorruptible, public examination, and then to have passed that
+examination is not presumptive, but demonstrative, proof of proficiency,
+and swallows up all minor and merely presumptive proofs.
+
+There is nothing much stupider than anachronism. What avail certificates
+of lectures in our day? either the knowledge obtained at the lectures
+enables the pupil to pass the great examination, or it does not. If it
+does, the certificate is superfluous; if it does not, the certificate is
+illusory.
+
+What the British legislator, if for once he would rise to be a lawgiver,
+should do, and that quickly, is to throw open the medical schools to all
+persons for matriculation. To throw open all hospitals and infirmaries to
+matriculated students, without respect of sex, as they are already open,
+by shameless partiality and transparent greed, to unmatriculated women,
+provided they confine their ambition to the most repulsive and unfeminine
+part of medicine, the nursing of both sexes, and laying out of corpses.
+
+Both the above rights, as independent of sex as other natural rights,
+should be expressly protected by “mandamus,” and “suit for damages.” The
+lecturers to be compelled to lecture to mixed classes, or to give
+separate lectures to matriculated women for half fees, whichever those
+lecturers prefer. Before this clause all difficulties would melt, like
+hail in the dog days. Male modesty is a purely imaginary article, set up
+for a trade purpose, and will give way to justice the moment it costs the
+proprietors fifty per cent. I know my own sex from hair to heel, and will
+take my Bible oath of _that._
+
+Of the foreign matriculated student, British or European, nothing should
+be demanded but the one thing, which matters one straw--viz., infallible
+proofs of proficiency in anatomy, surgery, medicine, and its collaterals,
+under public examination. This, which is the only real safeguard, and the
+only necessary safeguard to the public, and the only one _the public_
+ask, should be placed, in some degree, under _the sure control of
+Government_ without respect of cities; and much greater vigilance
+exercised than ever has been yet. Why, under the system which excludes
+learned women, male dunces have been personated by able students, and so
+diplomas stolen again and again. The student, male or female, should have
+power to compel the examiners, by mandamus and other stringent remedies,
+to examine at fit times and seasons. In all the _paper work_ of these
+examinations, the name, and of course the sex, of the student should be
+concealed from the examiners. There is a very simple way of doing it.
+
+Should a law be passed on this broad and simple basis, that law will
+stand immortal, with pettifogging acts falling all around, according to
+the custom of the country. The larger half of the population will no
+longer be unconstitutionally juggled, under cover of law, out of their
+right to take their secret ailments to a skilled physician of their own
+sex, and compelled to go, blushing, writhing, and, after all, concealing
+and fibbing, to a male physician; the picked few no longer robbed of
+their right to science, reputation, and Bread.
+
+The good effect on the whole mind of woman would be incalculable. Great
+prizes of study and genius offered to the able few have always a salutary
+and wonderful operation on the many who never gain them; it would be
+great and glad tidings to our whole female youth to say, “You need not be
+frivolous idlers; you need not give the colts fifty yards' start for the
+Derby--I mean, you need not waste three hours of the short working day in
+dressing and undressing, and combing your hair. You need not throw away
+the very seed--time of life on music, though you are unmusical to the
+backbone; nor yet on your three 'C's'--croquet, crochet, and coquetry: for
+Civilization and sound Law have opened to you one great, noble, and
+difficult profession with three branches, two of which Nature intended
+you for. The path is arduous, but flowers grow beside it, and the prize
+is great.”
+
+I say that this prize, and frequent intercourse with those superior women
+who have won it, would leaven the whole sex with higher views of life
+than enter their heads at present; would raise their self-respect, and
+set thousands of them to study the great and noble things that are in
+medicine, and connected with it, instead of childish things.
+
+Is there really one manly heart that would grudge this boon to a sex
+which is the nurse and benefactress of every man in his tender and most
+precarious years?
+
+Realize the hard condition of women. Among barbarians their lot is
+unmixed misery; with us their condition is better, but not what it ought
+to be, because we are but half civilized, and so their lot is still very
+unhappy compared with ours.
+
+And we are so unreasonable. We men cannot go straight ten yards without
+_rewards_ as well as punishments. Yet we could govern our women by
+punishments alone. They are eternally tempted to folly, yet snubbed the
+moment they would be wise. A million shops spread their nets, and entice
+them by their direst foible. Their very mothers--for want of medical
+knowledge in the sex--clasp the fatal, idiotic corset on their growing
+bodies, though thin as a lath. So the girl grows up, crippled in the ribs
+and lungs by her own mother; and her life, too, is in stays--cabined,
+cribbed, confined: unless she can paint, or act, or write novels, every
+path of honorable ambition is closed to her. We treat her as we do our
+private soldiers--the lash, but no promotion; and our private soldiers
+are the scum of Europe for that very reason, and no other.
+
+I say that to open the study and practice of medicine to women folk,
+under the infallible safeguard of a stiff public examination, will be to
+rise in respect for human rights to the level of European nations, who do
+not brag about just freedom half as loud as we do, and to respect the
+constitutional rights of many million citizens, who all pay the taxes
+like men, and, by the contract with the State implied in that payment,
+buy the clear human right they have yet to go down on their knees for. It
+will also import into medical science a new and less theoretical, but
+cautious, teachable, observant kind of intellect; it will give the larger
+half of the nation an honorable ambition, and an honorable pursuit,
+toward which their hearts and instincts are bent by Nature herself; it
+will tend to elevate this whole sex, and its young children, male as well
+as female, and so will advance the civilization of the world, which in
+ages past, in our own day, and in all time, hath, and doth, and will,
+keep step exactly with the progress of women toward mental equality
+with men.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Woman-Hater, by Charles Reade
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+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      A Woman-hater, by Charles Reade
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Woman-Hater, by Charles Reade
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Woman-Hater
+
+Author: Charles Reade
+
+
+Release Date: January, 2003  [Etext #3669]
+The actual date this file first posted: July 11, 2001
+Last Updated: March 5, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOMAN-HATER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by James Rusk and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+    <div style="height: 8em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h1>
+      A WOMAN-HATER.
+    </h1>
+    <h2>
+      By Charles Reade
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <blockquote>
+      <p>
+        Italics are indicated by the underscore character. Accent marks are
+        indicated by a single quote (') after the vowel for acute accents and
+        before the vowel for grave accents. Other accent marks are ignored.
+      </p>
+    </blockquote>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <b>CONTENTS</b>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;THE Golden Star,&rdquo; Homburg, was a humble hotel, not used by gay gamblers,
+      but by modest travelers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At two o'clock, one fine day in June, there were two strangers in the <i>salle
+      a' manger,</i> seated at small tables a long way apart, and wholly
+      absorbed in their own business.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One was a lady about twenty-four years old, who, in the present repose of
+      her features, looked comely, sedate, and womanly, but not the remarkable
+      person she really was. Her forehead high and white, but a little broader
+      than sculptors affect; her long hair, coiled tight, in a great many smooth
+      snakes, upon her snowy nape, was almost flaxen, yet her eyebrows and long
+      lashes not pale but a reddish brown; her gray eyes large and profound; her
+      mouth rather large, beautifully shaped, amiable, and expressive, but full
+      of resolution; her chin a little broad; her neck and hands admirably white
+      and polished. She was an Anglo-Dane&mdash;her father English.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If you ask me what she was doing, why&mdash;hunting; and had been, for
+      some days, in all the inns of Homburg. She had the visitors' book, and was
+      going through the names of the whole year, and studying each to see
+      whether it looked real or assumed. Interspersed were flippant comments,
+      and verses adapted to draw a smile of amusement or contempt; but this
+      hunter passed them all over as nullities: the steady pose of her head, the
+      glint of her deep eye, and the set of her fine lips showed a soul not to
+      be diverted from its object.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The traveler at her back had a map of the district and blank telegrams,
+      one of which he filled in every now and then, and scribbled a hasty letter
+      to the same address. He was a sharp-faced middle-aged man of business;
+      Joseph Ashmead, operatic and theatrical agent&mdash;at his wits' end; a
+      female singer at the Homburg Opera had fallen really ill; he was
+      commissioned to replace her, and had only thirty hours to do it in. So he
+      was hunting a singer. What the lady was hunting can never be known, unless
+      she should choose to reveal it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Karl, the waiter, felt bound to rouse these abstracted guests, and
+      stimulate their appetites. He affected, therefore, to look on them as
+      people who had not yet breakfasted, and tripped up to Mr. Ashmead with a
+      bill of fare, rather scanty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The busiest Englishman can eat, and Ashmead had no objection to snatch a
+      mouthful; he gave his order in German with an English accent. But the
+      lady, when appealed to, said softly, in pure German, &ldquo;I will wait for the
+      <i>table-d'hote.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The <i>table-d'hote!</i> It wants four hours to that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The lady looked Karl full in the face, and said, slowly, and very
+      distinctly, &ldquo;Then, I&mdash;will&mdash;wait&mdash;four&mdash;hours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      These simple words, articulated firmly, and in a contralto voice of
+      singular volume and sweetness, sent Karl skipping; but their effect on Mr.
+      Ashmead was more remarkable. He started up from his chair with an
+      exclamation, and bent his eyes eagerly on the melodious speaker. He could
+      only see her back hair and her figure; but, apparently, this quick-eared
+      gentleman had also quick eyes, for he said aloud, in English, &ldquo;Her hair,
+      too&mdash;it must be;&rdquo; and he came hurriedly toward her. She caught a word
+      or two, and turned and saw him. &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said she, and rose; but the points
+      of her fingers still rested on the book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is!&rdquo; cried Ashmead. &ldquo;It is!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Mr. Ashmead,&rdquo; said the lady, coloring a little, but in pure English,
+      and with a composure not easily disturbed; &ldquo;it is Ina Klosking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a pleasure,&rdquo; cried Ashmead; and what a surprise! Ah, madam, I never
+      hoped to see you again. When I heard you had left the Munich Opera so
+      sudden, I said, 'There goes one more bright star quenched forever.' And
+      you to desert us&mdash;you, the risingest singer in Germany!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Ashmead!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can't deny it. You know you were.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The lady, thus made her own judge, seemed to reflect a moment, and said,
+      &ldquo;I was a well-grounded musician, thanks to my parents; I was a very
+      hard-working singer; and I had the advantage of being supported, in my
+      early career, by a gentleman of judgment and spirit, who was a manager at
+      first, and brought me forward, afterward a popular agent, and talked
+      managers into a good opinion of me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, madam,&rdquo; said Ashmead, tenderly, &ldquo;it is a great pleasure to hear this
+      from you, and spoken with that mellow voice which would charm a
+      rattlesnake; but what would my zeal and devotion have availed if you had
+      not been a born singer?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;yes,&rdquo; said Ina, thoughtfully; &ldquo;I was a singer.&rdquo; But she seemed
+      to say this not as a thing to be proud of, but only because it happened to
+      be true; and, indeed, it was a peculiarity of this woman that she appeared
+      nearly always to think&mdash;if but for half a moment&mdash;before she
+      spoke, and to say things, whether about herself or others, only because
+      they were the truth. The reader who shall condescend to bear this in mind
+      will possess some little clew to the color and effect of her words as
+      spoken. Often, where they seem simple and commonplace&mdash;on paper, they
+      were weighty by their extraordinary air of truthfulness as well as by the
+      deep music of her mellow, bell-like voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you do admit that,&rdquo; said Mr. Ashmead, with a chuckle; &ldquo;then why jump
+      off the ladder so near the top? Oh, of course I know&mdash;the old story&mdash;but
+      you might give twenty-two hours to love, and still spare a couple to
+      music.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That seems a reasonable division,&rdquo; said Ina, naively. &ldquo;But&rdquo;
+       (apologetically) &ldquo;he was jealous.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jealous!&mdash;more shame for him. I'm sure no lady in public life was
+      ever more discreet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; he was only jealous of the public.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what had the poor public done?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Absorbed me, he said.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, he could take you to the opera, and take you home from the opera,
+      and, during the opera, he could make one of the public, and applaud you as
+      loud as the best.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but rehearsals!&mdash;and&mdash;embracing the tenor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but only on the stage?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Ashmead, where else does one embrace the tenor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And was that a grievance? Why, I'd embrace fifty tenors&mdash;if I was
+      paid proportionable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but he said I embraced one poor stick, with a fervor&mdash;an <i>abandon</i>&mdash;Well,
+      I dare say I did; for, if they had put a gate-post in the middle of the
+      stage, and it was in my part to embrace the thing, I should have done it
+      honestly, for love of my art, and not of a post. The next time I had to
+      embrace the poor stick it was all I could do not to pinch him savagely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And turn him to a counter-tenor&mdash;make him squeak.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina Klosking smiled for the first time. Ashmead, too, chuckled at his own
+      wit, but turned suddenly grave the next moment, and moralized. He
+      pronounced it desirable, for the interests of mankind, that a great and
+      rising singer should not love out of the business; outsiders were
+      wrong-headed and absurd, and did not understand the true artist. However,
+      having discoursed for some time in this strain, he began to fear it might
+      be unpalatable to her; so he stopped abruptly, and said, &ldquo;But there&mdash;what
+      is done is done. We must make the best of it; and you mustn't think I
+      meant to run <i>him</i> down. He loves you, in his way. He must be a noble
+      fellow, or he never could have won such a heart as yours. He won't be
+      jealous of an old fellow like me, though I love you, too, in my humdrum
+      way, and always did. You must do me the honor to present me to him at
+      once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina stared at him, but said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; continued Ashmead, &ldquo;I shall be busy till evening; but I will ask him
+      and you to dine with me at the Kursaal, and then adjourn to the Royal Box.
+      You are a queen of song, and that is where you and he shall sit, and
+      nowhere else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina Klosking was changing color all this time, and cast a grateful but
+      troubled look on him. &ldquo;My kind, old faithful friend!&rdquo; said she, then shook
+      her head. &ldquo;No, we are not to dine with you; nor sit together at the opera,
+      in Homburg.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead looked a little chagrined. &ldquo;So be it,&rdquo; he said dryly. &ldquo;But at
+      least introduce me to him. I'll try and overcome his prejudices.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not even in my power to do that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I see. I'm not good enough for him,&rdquo; said Ashmead, bitterly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do yourself injustice, and him too,&rdquo; said Ina, courteously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My friend,&rdquo; said she, deprecatingly, &ldquo;he is not here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not here? That is odd. Well, then, you will be dull till he comes back.
+      Come without him; at all events, to the opera.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned her tortured eyes away. &ldquo;I have not the heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This made Ashmead look at her more attentively. &ldquo;Why, what is the matter?&rdquo;
+       said he. &ldquo;You are in trouble. I declare you are trembling, and your eyes
+      are filling. My poor lady&mdash;in Heaven's name, what is the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush!&rdquo; said Ina; &ldquo;not so loud.&rdquo; Then she looked him in the face a little
+      while, blushed, hesitated, faltered, and at last laid one white hand upon
+      her bosom, that was beginning to heave, and said, with patient dignity,
+      &ldquo;My old friend&mdash;I&mdash;am&mdash;deserted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead looked at her with amazement and incredulity. &ldquo;Deserted!&rdquo; said he,
+      faintly. &ldquo;You&mdash;deserted!!!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;deserted; but perhaps not forever.&rdquo; Her noble eyes
+      filled to the brim, and two tears stood ready to run over.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, the man must be an idiot!&rdquo; shouted Ashmead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush! not so loud. That waiter is listening: let me come to your table.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She came and sat down at his table, and he sat opposite her. They looked
+      at each other. He waited for her to speak. With all her fortitude, her
+      voice faltered, under the eye of sympathy. &ldquo;You are my old friend,&rdquo; she
+      said. &ldquo;I'll try and tell you all.&rdquo; But she could not all in a moment, and
+      the two tears trickled over and ran down her cheeks; Ashmead saw them, and
+      burst out, &ldquo;The villain!&mdash;the villain!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;do not call him that. I could not bear it. Believe
+      me, he is no villain.&rdquo; Then she dried her eyes, and said, resolutely, &ldquo;If
+      I am to tell you, you must not apply harsh words to him. They would close
+      my mouth at once, and close my heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I won't say a word,&rdquo; said Ashmead, submissively; &ldquo;so tell me all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina reflected a moment, and then told her tale. Dealing now with longer
+      sentences, she betrayed her foreign half.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Being alone so long,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;has made me reflect more than in all my
+      life before, and I now understand many things that, at the time, I could
+      not. He to whom I have given my love, and resigned the art in which I was
+      advancing&mdash;with your assistance&mdash;is, by nature, impetuous and
+      inconstant. He was born so, and I the opposite. His love for me was too
+      violent to last forever in any man, and it soon cooled in him, because he
+      is inconstant by nature. He was jealous of the public: he must have all my
+      heart, and all my time, and so he wore his own passion out. Then his great
+      restlessness, having now no chain, became too strong for our happiness. He
+      pined for change, as some wanderers pine for a fixed home. Is it not
+      strange? I, a child of the theater, am at heart domestic. He, a gentleman
+      and a scholar, born, bred, and fitted to adorn the best society, is by
+      nature a Bohemian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One word: is there another woman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not that I know of; Heaven forbid!&rdquo; said Ina. &ldquo;But there is something
+      very dreadful: there is gambling. He has a passion for it, and I fear I
+      wearied him by my remonstrances. He dragged me about from one
+      gambling-place to another, and I saw that if I resisted he would go
+      without me. He lost a fortune while we were together, and I do really
+      believe he is ruined, poor dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead suppressed all signs of ill-temper, and asked, grimly, &ldquo;Did he
+      quarrel with you, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no; he never said an unkind word to me; and I was not always so
+      forbearing, for I passed months of torment. I saw that affection, which
+      was my all, gliding gradually away from me; and the tortured will cry out.
+      I am not an ungoverned woman, but sometimes the agony was intolerable, and
+      I complained. Well, that agony, I long for it back; for now I am
+      desolate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor soul! How could a man have the heart to leave you? how could he have
+      the face?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, he did not do it shamelessly. He left me for a week, to visit friends
+      in England. But he wrote to me from London. He had left me at Berlin. He
+      said that he did not like to tell me before parting, but I must not expect
+      to see him for six weeks; and he desired me to go to my mother in Denmark.
+      He would send his next letter to me there. Ah! he knew I should need my
+      mother when his second letter came. He had planned it all, that the blow
+      might not kill me. He wrote to tell me he was a ruined man, and he was too
+      proud to let me support him: he begged my pardon for his love, for his
+      desertion, for ever having crossed my brilliant path like a dark cloud. He
+      praised me, he thanked me, he blessed me; but he left me. It was a
+      beautiful letter, but it was the death-warrant of my heart. I was
+      abandoned.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead started up and walked very briskly, with a great appearance of
+      business requiring vast dispatch, to the other end of the <i>salle;</i>
+      and there, being out of Ina's hearing, he spoke his mind to a candlestick
+      with three branches. &ldquo;D&mdash;n him! Heartless, sentimental scoundrel! D&mdash;n
+      him! D&mdash;n him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Having relieved his mind with this pious ejaculation, he returned to Ina
+      at a reasonable pace and much relieved, and was now enabled to say,
+      cheerfully, &ldquo;Let us take a business view of it. He is gone&mdash;gone of
+      his own accord. Give him your blessing&mdash;I have given him mine&mdash;and
+      forget him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forget him! Never while I live. Is that your advice? Oh, Mr. Ashmead! And
+      the moment I saw your friendly face, I said to myself, 'I am no longer
+      alone: here is one that will help me.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so I will, you may be sure of that,&rdquo; said Ashmead, eagerly. &ldquo;What is
+      the business?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The business is to find him. That is the first thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he is in England.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no; that was eight months ago. He could not stay eight months in any
+      country; besides, there are no gambling-houses there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And have you been eight months searching Europe for this madman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. At first pride and anger were strong, and I said, 'Here I stay till
+      he comes back to me and to his senses.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Brava!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but month after month went by, carrying away my pride and my anger,
+      and leaving my affection undiminished. At last I could bear it no longer;
+      so, as he would not come to his senses&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You took leave of yours, and came out on a wild-goose chase,&rdquo; said
+      Ashmead, but too regretfully to affront her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It <i>was,&rdquo;</i> said Ina; &ldquo;I feel it. But it is not one <i>now,</i>
+      because I have <i>you</i> to assist me with your experience and ability.
+      You will find him for me, somehow or other. I know you will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Let a woman have ever so little guile, she must have tact, if she is a
+      true woman. Now, tact, if its etymology is to be trusted, implies a fine
+      sense and power of touch; so, in virtue of her sex, she pats a horse
+      before she rides him, and a man before she drives him. There, ladies,
+      there is an indictment in two counts; traverse either of them if you can.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Joseph Ashmead, thus delicately but effectually manipulated, swelled with
+      gratified vanity and said, &ldquo;You are quite right; you can't do this sort of
+      thing yourself; you want an agent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you have got one. Now let me see&mdash;fifty to one he is not at
+      Homburg at all. If he is, he most likely stays at Frankfort. He is a
+      swell, is he not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Swell!&rdquo; said the Anglo-Dane, puzzled. &ldquo;Not that I am aware of.&rdquo; She was
+      strictly on her guard against vituperation of her beloved scamp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pooh, pooh!&rdquo; said Ashmead; &ldquo;of course he is, and not the sort to lodge in
+      Homburg.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then behold my incompetence!&rdquo; said Ina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But <i>the</i> place to look for him is the gambling-saloon. Been there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you must.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! Me! Alone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; with your agent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my friend; I said you would find him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a woman! She will have it he is in Homburg. And suppose we do find
+      him, and you should not be welcome?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall not be unwelcome. <i>I shall be a change.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall I tell you how to draw him to Homburg, wherever he is?&rdquo; said
+      Ashmead, very demurely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, tell me that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And do <i>me</i> a good turn into the bargain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it possible? Can I be so fortunate?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; and <i>as you say,</i> it <i>is</i> a slice of luck to be able to
+      kill two birds with one stone. Why, consider&mdash;the way to recover a
+      man is not to run after him, but to make him run to you. It is like
+      catching moths; you don't run out into the garden after them; you light
+      the candle and open the window, and <i>they</i> do the rest&mdash;as he
+      will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes; but what am I to do for <i>you?&rdquo;</i> asked Ina, getting a
+      little uneasy and suspicious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! didn't I tell you?&rdquo; said Ashmead, with cool effrontery. &ldquo;Why, only
+      to sing for me in this little opera, that is all.&rdquo; And he put his hands in
+      his pockets, and awaited thunder-claps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that is all, is it?&rdquo; said Ina, panting a little, and turning two
+      great, reproachful eyes on him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is all,&rdquo; said he, stoutly. &ldquo;Why, what attracted him at first? Wasn't
+      it your singing, the admiration of the public, the bouquets and bravas?
+      What caught the moth once will catch it again 'moping' won't. And surely
+      you will not refuse to draw him, merely because you can pull me out of a
+      fix into the bargain. Look here, I have undertaken to find a singer by
+      to-morrow night; and what chance is there of my getting even a third-rate
+      one? Why, the very hour I have spent so agreeably, talking to you, has
+      diminished my chance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Ina, &ldquo;this is <i>driving</i> me into your net.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I own it,&rdquo; said Joseph, cheerfully; &ldquo;I'm quite unscrupulous, because I
+      know you will thank me afterward.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The very idea of going back to the stage makes me tremble,&rdquo; said Ina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course it does; and those who tremble succeed. In a long experience I
+      never knew an instance to the contrary. It is the conceited fools, who
+      feel safe, that are in danger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the part?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One you know&mdash;Siebel in 'Faust,' with two new songs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excuse me, I do not know it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, everybody knows it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean everybody has heard it sung. I know neither the music nor the
+      words, and I cannot sing incorrectly even for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you can master the airs in a day, and the cackle in half an hour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not so expeditious. If you are serious, get me the book&mdash;oh! he
+      calls the poet's words the cackle&mdash;and the music of the part
+      directly, and borrow me the score.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Borrow you the score! Ah! that shows the school you were bred in. I gaze
+      at you with admiration.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then please don't, for we have not a moment to waste. You have terrified
+      me out of my senses. Fly!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but before I fly, there is something to be settled&mdash;salary!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As much as they will give.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course; but give me a hint.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; you will get me some money, for I am poor. I gave all my savings
+      to my dear mother, and settled her on a farm in dear old Denmark. But I
+      really sing for <i>you</i> more than for Homburg, so make no difficulties.
+      Above all, do not discuss salary with me. Settle it and draw it for me,
+      and let me hear no more about that. I am on thorns.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He soon found the director, and told him, excitedly, there was a way out
+      of his present difficulty. Ina Klosking was in the town. He had implored
+      her to return to the opera. She had refused at first; but he had used all
+      his influence with her, and at last had obtained a half promise on
+      conditions&mdash;a two months' engagement; certain parts, which he
+      specified out of his own head; salary, a hundred thalers per night, and a
+      half clear benefit on her last appearance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The director demurred to the salary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead said he was mad: she was the German Alboni; her low notes like a
+      trumpet, and the compass of a mezzo-soprano besides.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The director yielded, and drew up the engagement in duplicate. Ashmead
+      then borrowed the music and came back to the inn triumphant. He waved the
+      agreement over his head, then submitted it to her. She glanced at it, made
+      a wry face, and said, &ldquo;Two months! I never dreamed of such a thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not worth your while to do it for less,&rdquo; said Ashmead. &ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said he,
+      authoritatively, &ldquo;you have got a good bargain every way; so sign.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She lifted her head high, and looked at him like a lioness, at being
+      ordered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead replied by putting the paper before her and giving her the pen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She cast one more reproachful glance, then signed like a lamb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said she, turning fretful, &ldquo;I want a piano.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You shall have one,&rdquo; said he coaxingly. He went to the landlord and
+      inquired if there was a piano in the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, there is one,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And it is mine,&rdquo; said a sharp female voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I beg the use of it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the lady, a tall, bony spinster. &ldquo;I cannot have it strummed on
+      and put out of tune by everybody.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But this is not everybody. The lady I want it for is a professional
+      musician. Top of the tree.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The hardest strummers going.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, mademoiselle, this lady is going to sing at the opera. She <i>must</i>
+      study. She <i>must</i> have a piano.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But [grimly] she need not have mine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then she must leave the hotel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh [haughtily], <i>that</i> is as she pleases.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead went to Ina Klosking in a rage and told her all this, and said he
+      would take her to another hotel kept by a Frenchman: these Germans were
+      bears. But Ina Klosking just shrugged her shoulders, and said, &ldquo;Take me to
+      her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He did so; and she said, in German, &ldquo;Madam, I can quite understand your
+      reluctance to have your piano strummed. But as your hotel is quiet and
+      respectable, and I am unwilling to leave it, will you permit me to play to
+      you? and then you shall decide whether I am worthy to stay or not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The spinster drank those mellow accents, colored a little, looked keenly
+      at the speaker, and, after a moment's reflection, said, half sullenly,
+      &ldquo;No, madam, you are polite. I must risk my poor piano. Be pleased to come
+      with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She then conducted them to a large, unoccupied room on the first-floor,
+      and unlocked the piano, a very fine one, and in perfect tune.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina sat down, and performed a composition then in vogue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You play correctly, madam,&rdquo; said the spinster; &ldquo;but your music&mdash;what
+      stuff! Such things are null. They vex the ear a little, but they never
+      reach the mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead was wroth, and could hardly contain himself; but the Klosking was
+      amused, and rather pleased. &ldquo;Mademoiselle has positive tastes in music,&rdquo;
+       said she; &ldquo;all the better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the spinster, &ldquo;most music is mere noise. I hate and despise
+      forty-nine compositions out of fifty; but the fiftieth I adore. Give me
+      something simple, with a little soul in it&mdash;if you can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina Klosking looked at her, and observed her age and her dress, the latter
+      old-fashioned. She said, quietly, &ldquo;Will mademoiselle do me the honor to
+      stand before me? I will sing her a trifle my mother taught me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The spinster complied, and stood erect and stiff, with her arms folded.
+      Ina fixed her deep eyes on her, playing a liquid prelude all the time,
+      then swelled her chest and sung the old Venetian cauzonet, &ldquo;Il pescatore
+      de'll' onda.&rdquo; It is a small thing, but there is no limit to the genius of
+      song. The Klosking sung this trifle with a voice so grand, sonorous, and
+      sweet, and, above all, with such feeling, taste, and purity, that somehow
+      she transported her hearers to Venetian waters, moonlit, and thrilled them
+      to the heart, while the great glass chandelier kept ringing very audibly,
+      so true, massive, and vibrating were her tones in that large, empty room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the first verse that cross-grained spinster, with real likes and
+      dislikes, put a bony hand quietly before her eyes. At the last, she made
+      three strides, as a soldier marches, and fell all of a piece, like a
+      wooden <i>mannequin,</i> on the singer's neck. &ldquo;Take my piano,&rdquo; she
+      sobbed, &ldquo;for you have taken the heart out of my body.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina returned her embrace, and did not conceal her pleasure. &ldquo;I am very
+      proud of such a conquest,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From that hour Ina was the landlady's pet. The room and piano were made
+      over to her, and, being in a great fright at what she had undertaken, she
+      studied and practiced her part night and day. She made Ashmead call a
+      rehearsal next day, and she came home from it wretched and almost
+      hysterical.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She summoned her slave Ashmead; he stood before her with an air of
+      hypocritical submission.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Flute was not at rehearsal, sir,&rdquo; said she, severely, &ldquo;nor the Oboe,
+      nor the Violoncello.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just like 'em,&rdquo; said Ashmead, tranquilly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The tenor is a quavering stick. He is one of those who think that an
+      unmanly trembling of the voice represents every manly passion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Their name is legion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The soprano is insipid. And they are all imperfect&mdash;contentedly
+      imperfect, How can people sing incorrectly? It is like lying.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is what makes it so common&mdash;he! he!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not desire wit, but consolation. I believe you are Mephistopheles
+      himself in disguise; for ever since I signed that diabolical compact you
+      made me, I have been in a state of terror, agitation, misgiving, and
+      misery&mdash;and I thank and bless you for it; for these thorns and
+      nettles they lacerate me, and make me live. They break the dull, lethargic
+      agony of utter desolation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, as her nerves were female nerves, and her fortitude female
+      fortitude, she gave way, for once, and began to cry patiently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead the practical went softly away and left her, as we must leave her
+      for a time, to battle her business with one hand and her sorrow with the
+      other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      IN the Hotel Russie, at Frankfort, there was a grand apartment, lofty,
+      spacious, and richly furnished, with a broad balcony overlooking the
+      Platz, and roofed, so to speak, with colored sun-blinds, which softened
+      the glare of the Rhineland sun to a rosy and mellow light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the veranda, a tall English gentleman was leaning over the balcony,
+      smoking a cigar, and being courted by a fair young lady. Her light-gray
+      eyes dwelt on him in a way to magnetize a man, and she purred pretty
+      nothings at his ear, in a soft tone she reserved for males. Her voice was
+      clear, loud, and rather high-pitched whenever she spoke to a person of her
+      own sex; a comely English blonde, with pale eyelashes; a keen, sensible
+      girl, and not a downright wicked one; only born artful. This was Fanny
+      Dover; and the tall gentleman&mdash;whose relation she was, and whose wife
+      she resolved to be in one year, three years, or ten, according to his
+      power of resistance&mdash;was Harrington Vizard, a Barfordshire squire,
+      with twelve thousand acres and a library.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for Fanny, she had only two thousand pounds in all the world; so
+      compensating Nature endowed her with a fair complexion, gray, mesmeric
+      eyes, art, and resolution&mdash;qualities that often enable a poor girl to
+      conquer landed estates, with their male incumbrances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Beautiful and delicate&mdash;on the surface&mdash;as was Miss Dover's
+      courtship of her first cousin once removed, it did not strike fire; it
+      neither pleased nor annoyed him; it fell as dead as a lantern firing on an
+      iceberg. Not that he disliked her by any means. But he was thirty-two, had
+      seen the world, and had been unlucky with women. So he was now a <i>divorce',</i>
+      and a declared woman-hater; railed on them, and kept them at arm's-length,
+      Fanny Dover included. It was really comical to see with what perfect
+      coolness and cynical apathy he parried the stealthy advances of this
+      cat-like girl, a mistress in the art of pleasing&mdash;when she chose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Inside the room, on a couch of crimson velvet, sat a young lady of rare
+      and dazzling beauty. Her face was a long but perfect oval, pure forehead,
+      straight nose, with exquisite nostrils; coral lips, and ivory teeth. But
+      what first struck the beholder were her glorious dark eyes, and
+      magnificent eyebrows as black as jet. Her hair was really like a raven's
+      dark-purple wing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These beauties, in a stern character, might have inspired awe; the more so
+      as her form and limbs were grand and statuesque for her age; but all was
+      softened down to sweet womanhood by long, silken lashes, often lowered,
+      and a gracious face that blushed at a word, blushed little, blushed much,
+      blushed pinky, blushed pink, blushed roseate, blushed rosy; and, I am
+      sorry to say, blushed crimson, and even scarlet, in the course of those
+      events I am about to record, as unblushing as turnip, and cool as
+      cucumber. This scale of blushes arose not out of modesty alone, but out of
+      the wide range of her sensibility. On hearing of a noble deed, she blushed
+      warm approbation; at a worthy sentiment, she blushed heart-felt sympathy.
+      If you said a thing at the fire that might hurt some person at the
+      furthest window, she would blush for fear it should be overheard, and
+      cause pain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In short, it was her peculiarity to blush readily for matters quite
+      outside herself, and to show the male observer (if any) the amazing
+      sensibility, apart from egotism, that sometimes adorns a young,
+      high-minded woman, not yet hardened by the world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This young lady was Zoe Vizard, daughter of Harrington's father by a Greek
+      mother, who died when she was twelve years of age. Her mixed origin showed
+      itself curiously. In her figure and face she was all Greek, even to her
+      hand, which was molded divinely, but as long and large as befitted her
+      long, grand, antique arm; but her mind was Northern&mdash;not a grain of
+      Greek subtlety in it. Indeed, she would have made a poor hand at dark
+      deceit, with a transparent face and eloquent blood, that kept coursing
+      from her heart to her cheeks and back again, and painting her thoughts
+      upon her countenance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Having installed herself, with feminine instinct, in a crimson couch that
+      framed her to perfection, Zoe Vizard was at work embroidering. She had
+      some flowers, and their leaves, lying near her on a little table, and,
+      with colored silks, chenille, etc., she imitated each flower and its leaf
+      very adroitly without a pattern. This was clever, and, indeed, rather a
+      rare talent; but she lowered her head over this work with a demure,
+      beaming complacency embroidery alone never yet excited without external
+      assistance. Accordingly, on a large stool, or little ottoman, at her feet,
+      but at a respectful distance, sat a young man, almost her match in beauty,
+      though in quite another style. In height about five feet ten,
+      broad-shouldered, clean-built, a model of strength, agility, and grace.
+      His face fair, fresh, and healthy-looking; his large eyes hazel; the crisp
+      curling hair on his shapely head a wonderful brown in the mass, but with
+      one thin streak of gold above the forehead, and all the loose hairs
+      glittering golden. A short clipped mustache saved him from looking too
+      feminine, yet did not hide his expressive mouth. He had white hands, as
+      soft and supple as a woman's, a mellow voice, and a winning tongue. This
+      dangerous young gentleman was gazing softly on Zoe Vizard and purring in
+      her ear; and she was conscious of his gaze without looking at him, and was
+      sipping the honey, and showed it, by seeming more absorbed in her work
+      than girls ever really are.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Matters, however, had not gone openly very far. She was still on her
+      defense: so, after imbibing his flatteries demurely a long time, she
+      discovered, all in one moment, that they were objectionable. &ldquo;Dear me, Mr.
+      Severne,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;you do nothing but pay compliments.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can I help it, sitting here?&rdquo; inquired he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There&mdash;there,&rdquo; said she: then, quietly, &ldquo;Does it never occur to you
+      that only foolish people are pleased with flatteries?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have heard that; but I don't believe it. I know it makes me awfully
+      happy whenever you say a kind word of me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is far from proving your wisdom,&rdquo; said Zoe; &ldquo;and, instead of
+      dwelling on my perfections, which do not exist, I wish you would <i>tell</i>
+      me things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What things?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can I tell till I hear them? Well, then, things about yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a poor subject.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me be the judge.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, there are lots of fellows who are always talking about themselves:
+      let me be an exception.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This answer puzzled Zoe, and she was silent, and put on a cold look. She
+      was not accustomed to be refused anything reasonable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne examined her closely, and saw he was expected to obey her. He then
+      resolved to prepare, in a day or two, an autobiography full of details
+      that should satisfy Zoe's curiosity, and win her admiration and her love.
+      But he could not do it all in a moment, because his memory of his real
+      life obstructed his fancy. Meantime he operated a diversion. He said, &ldquo;Set
+      a poor fellow an example. Tell me something about <i>yourself&mdash;</i>since
+      I have the bad taste, and the presumption, to be interested in you, and
+      can't help it. Did you spring from the foam of the Archipelago? or are you
+      descended from Bacchus and Ariadne?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you want sensible answers, ask sensible questions,&rdquo; said Zoe, trying
+      to frown him down with her black brows; but her sweet cheek would tint
+      itself, and her sweet mouth smile and expose much intercoral ivory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I will ask you a prosaic question, and I only hope
+      you won't think it impertinent. How&mdash;ever&mdash;did such a strangely
+      assorted party as yours come to travel together? And if Vizard has turned
+      woman-hater, as he pretends, how comes he to be at the head of a female
+      party who are not <i>all</i> of them&mdash;&rdquo; he hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go on, Mr. Severne; not all of them what?&rdquo; said Zoe, prepared to stand up
+      for her sex.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not perfect?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a very cautious statement, and&mdash;there&mdash;you are as
+      slippery as an eel; there is no getting hold of you. Well, never mind, I
+      will set you an example of communicativeness, and reveal this mystery
+      hidden as yet from mankind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Speak, dread queen; thy servant heareth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha! ha! ha! Mr. Severne, you amuse <i>me.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You only interest <i>me,&rdquo;</i> was the soft reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe blushed pink, but turned it off. &ldquo;Then why do you not attend to my
+      interesting narrative, instead of&mdash;Well, then, it began with my
+      asking the dear fellow to take me a tour, especially to Rome.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You wanted to see the statues of your ancestors, and shame them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Much obliged; I was not quite such a goose. I wanted to see the Tiber,
+      and the Colosseum, and Trajan's Pillar, and the Tarpeian Rock, and the one
+      everlasting city that binds ancient and modern history together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She flashed her great eyes on him, and he was dumb. She had risen above
+      the region of his ideas. Having silenced her commentator, she returned to
+      her story, &ldquo;Well, dear Harrington said 'yes' directly. So then I told
+      Fanny, and she said, 'Oh, do take me with you?' Now, of course I was only
+      too glad to have Fanny; she is my relation, and my friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Happy girl!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be quiet, please. So I asked Harrington to let me have Fanny with us, and
+      you should have seen his face. What, he travel with a couple of us! He&mdash;I
+      don't see why I should tell you what the monster said.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, please do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You won't go telling anybody else, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a living soul, upon my honor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then,&rdquo; he said&mdash;she began to blush like a rose&mdash;&ldquo;that he
+      looked on me as a mere female in embryo; I had not yet developed the vices
+      of my sex. But Fanny Dover was a ripe flirt, and she would set me
+      flirting, and how could he manage the pair? In short, sir, he refused to
+      take us, and gave his reasons, such as they were, poor dear! Then I had to
+      tell Fanny. Then she began to cry, and told me to go without her. But I
+      would not do that, when I had once asked her. Then she clung round my
+      neck, and kissed me, and begged me to be cross and sullen, and tire out
+      dear Harrington.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is like her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know?&rdquo; said Zoe sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I have studied her character.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When, pray?&rdquo; said Zoe, ironically, yet blushing a little, because her
+      secret meaning was, &ldquo;You are always at my apron strings, and have no time
+      to fathom Fanny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I have nothing better to do&mdash;when you are out of the room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Well, I shall be out of the room very soon, if you say another word.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And serve me right, too. I am a fool to talk when you allow me to
+      listen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is incorrigible!&rdquo; said Zoe, pathetically. &ldquo;Well, then, I refused to
+      pout at Harrington. It is not as if he had no reason to distrust women,
+      poor dear darling. I invited Fanny to stay a month with us; and, when once
+      she was in the house, she soon got over me, and persuaded me to play sad,
+      and showed me how to do it. So we wore long faces, and sweet resignation,
+      and were never cross, but kept turning tearful eyes upon our victim.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha! ha! How absurd of Vizard to tell you that two women would be too much
+      for one man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it was the truth; and girls are artful creatures, especially when
+      they put their heads together. But hear the end of all our cunning. One
+      day, after dinner, Harrington asked us to sit opposite him; so we did, and
+      felt guilty. He surveyed us in silence a little while, and then he said,
+      'My young friends, you have played your little game pretty well,
+      especially you, Zoe, that are a novice in the fine arts compared with Miss
+      Dover.' Histrionic talent ought to be rewarded; he would relent, and take
+      us abroad, on one condition: there must be a chaperone. 'All the better,'
+      said we hypocrites, eagerly; 'and who?'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Oh, a person equal to the occasion&mdash;an old maid as bitter against
+      men as ever grapes were sour. She would follow us upstairs, downstairs,
+      and into my lady's chamber. She would have an eye at the key-hole by day,
+      and an ear by night, when we went up to bed and talked over the events of
+      our frivolous day.' In short, he enumerated our duenna's perfections till
+      our blood ran cold; and it was ever so long before he would tell us who it
+      was&mdash;Aunt Maitland. We screamed with surprise. They are like cat and
+      dog, and never agree, except to differ. We sought an explanation of this
+      strange choice. He obliged us. It was not for his gratification he took
+      the old cat; it was for us. She would relieve him of a vast
+      responsibility. The vices of her character would prove too strong for the
+      little faults of ours, which were only volatility, frivolity, flirtation&mdash;I
+      will <i>not</i> tell you what he said.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I seem to hear Harrington talking,&rdquo; said Severne. &ldquo;What on earth makes
+      him so hard upon women? Would you mind telling me that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never ask me that question again,&rdquo; said Zoe, with sudden gravity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I won't; I'll get it out of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you say a word to him about it, I shall be shocked and offended.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was pale and red by turns; but Severne bowed his head with a
+      respectful submission that disarmed her directly. She turned her head
+      away, and Severne, watching her, saw her eyes fill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How is it,&rdquo; said she thoughtfully, and looking away from him, &ldquo;that men
+      leave out their sisters when they sum up womankind? Are not we women too?
+      My poor brother quite forgets he has one woman who will never, never
+      desert nor deceive him; dear, darling fellow!&rdquo; and with these three last
+      words she rose and kissed the tips of her fingers, and waved the kiss to
+      Vizard with that free magnitude of gesture which belonged to antiquity: it
+      struck the Anglo-Saxon flirt at her feet with amazement. Not having good
+      enough under his skin to sympathize with that pious impulse, he first
+      stagnated a little while; and then, not to be silent altogether, made his
+      little, stale, commonplace comment on what she had told him. &ldquo;Why, it is
+      like a novel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A very unromantic one,&rdquo; replied Zoe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know that. I have read very interesting novels with fewer new
+      characters than this: there's a dark beauty, and a fair, and a duenna with
+      an eagle eye and an aquiline nose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush!&rdquo; said Zoe: &ldquo;that is her room;&rdquo; and pointed to a chamber door that
+      opened into the apartment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh, marvelous female instinct! The duenna in charge was at that moment
+      behind that very door, and her eye and her ear at the key-hole, turn
+      about.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne continued his remarks, but in a lower voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then there's a woman-hater and a man-hater: good for dialogue.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now this banter did not please Zoe; so she fixed her eyes upon Severne,
+      and said, &ldquo;You forget the principal figure&mdash;a mysterious young
+      gentleman who looks nineteen, and is twenty-nine, and was lost sight of in
+      England nine years ago. He has been traveling ever since, and where-ever
+      he went he flirted; we gather so much from his accomplishment in the art;
+      fluent, not to say voluble at times, but no egotist, for he never tells
+      you anything about himself, nor even about his family, still less about
+      the numerous <i>affaires de coeur</i> in which he has been engaged.
+      Perhaps he is reserving it all for the third volume.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The attack was strong and sudden, but it failed. Severne, within the
+      limits of his experience, was a consummate artist, and this situation was
+      not new to him. He cast one gently reproachful glance on her, then lowered
+      his eyes to the carpet, and kept them there. &ldquo;Do you think,&rdquo; said he, in a
+      low, dejected voice, &ldquo;it can be any pleasure to a man to relate the
+      follies of an idle, aimless life? and to you, who have given me higher
+      aspirations, and made me awfully sorry, I cannot live my whole life over
+      again. I can't bear to think of the years I have wasted,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;and
+      how can I talk to you, whom I reverence, of the past follies I despise?
+      No, pray don't ask me to risk your esteem. It is so dear to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then this artist put in practice a little maneuver he had learned of
+      compressing his muscles and forcing a little unwilling water into his
+      eyes. So, at the end of his pretty little speech, he raised two gentle,
+      imploring eyes, with half a tear in each of them. To be sure, Nature
+      assisted his art for once; he did bitterly regret, but out of pure
+      egotism, the years he had wasted, and wished with all his heart he had
+      never known any woman but Zoe Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The combination of art and sincerity was too much for the guileless and
+      inexperienced Zoe. She was grieved at the pain she had given, and rose to
+      retire, for she felt they were both on dangerous ground; but, as she
+      turned away, she made a little, deprecating gesture, and said, softly,
+      &ldquo;Forgive me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That soft tone gave Severne courage, and that gesture gave him an
+      opportunity. He seized her hand, murmured, &ldquo;Angel of goodness!&rdquo; and
+      bestowed a long, loving kiss on her hand that made it quiver under his
+      lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; cried Miss Maitland, bursting into the room at the nick of time, yet
+      feigning amazement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny heard the ejaculations, and whipped away from Harrington into the
+      window. Zoe, with no motive but her own coyness, had already snatched her
+      hand away from Severne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But both young ladies were one moment too late. The eagle eye of a
+      terrible old maid had embraced the entire situation, and they saw it had.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Harrington Vizard, Esq., smoked on, with his back to the group. But the
+      rest were a picture&mdash;the mutinous face and keen eyes of Fanny Dover,
+      bristling with defense, at the window; Zoe blushing crimson, and newly
+      started away from her too-enterprising wooer; and the tall, thin, grim old
+      maid, standing stiff, as sentinel, at the bedroom door, and gimleting both
+      her charges alternately with steel-gray orbs; she seemed like an owl, all
+      eyes and beak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the chaperon had fixed the situation thoroughly, she stalked erect
+      into the room, and said, very expressively, &ldquo;I am afraid I disturb you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe, from crimson, blushed scarlet, and hung her head; but Fanny was
+      ready.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La! aunt,&rdquo; said she, ironically, and with pertness infinite, &ldquo;you know
+      you are always welcome. Where ever have you been all this time? We were
+      afraid we had lost you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt fired her pistol in reply: &ldquo;I was not far off&mdash;most
+      fortunately.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe, finding that, even under crushing circumstances, Fanny had fight in
+      her, glided instantly to her side, and Aunt Maitland opened battle all
+      round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I ask, sir,&rdquo; said she to Severne, with a horrible smile, &ldquo;what you
+      were doing when I came in?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe clutched Fanny, and both awaited Mr. Severne's reply for one moment
+      with keen anxiety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Miss Maitland,&rdquo; said that able young man, very respectfully, yet
+      with a sort of cheerful readiness, as if he were delighted at her deigning
+      to question him, &ldquo;to tell you the truth, I was admiring Miss Vizard's
+      diamond ring.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny tittered; Zoe blushed again at such a fib and such <i>aplomb.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, indeed,&rdquo; said Miss Maitland; &ldquo;you were admiring it very close, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is like herself&mdash;it will bear inspection.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was wormwood to Miss Maitland. &ldquo;Even in our ashes live their wonted
+      fires;&rdquo; and, though she was sixty, she disliked to hear a young woman
+      praised. She bridled, then returned to the attack.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Next time you wish to inspect it, you had better ask her <i>to take it
+      off,</i> and show you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I, Miss Maitland?&rdquo; inquired the ingenuous youth. &ldquo;She would not think
+      that a liberty?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His mild effrontery staggered her for a moment, and she glared at him,
+      speechless, but soon recovered, and said, bitterly, &ldquo;Evidently <i>not.&rdquo;</i>
+      With this she turned her back on him rather ungraciously, and opened fire
+      on her own sex.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zoe!&rdquo; (sharply).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, aunt.&rdquo; (faintly)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell your brother&mdash;if he can leave off smoking&mdash;I wish to speak
+      to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe hung her head, and was in no hurry to bring about the proposed
+      conference.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While she deliberated, says Fanny, with vast alacrity, &ldquo;I'll tell him,
+      aunt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Fanny!&rdquo; murmured Zoe, in a reproachful whisper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right!&rdquo; whispered Fanny in reply, and whipped out on to the balcony.
+      &ldquo;Here's Aunt Maitland wants to know if you ever leave off smoking;&rdquo; and
+      she threw a most aggressive manner into the query.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The big man replied, composedly, &ldquo;Tell her I do&mdash;at meals and
+      prayers; but I always <i>sleep</i> with a pipe in my mouth&mdash;heavily
+      insured!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, you mustn't; for she has something very particular to say to
+      you when you've done smoking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Something particular! That means something disagreeable. Tell her I shall
+      be smoking all day to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny danced into the room and said, &ldquo;He says he shall be smoking all day,
+      <i>under the circumstances.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Maitland gave this faithful messenger the look of a basilisk, and
+      flounced to her own room. The young ladies instantly stepped out on the
+      balcony, and got one on each side of Harrington, with the feminine
+      instinct of propitiation; for they felt sure the enemy would tell, soon or
+      late.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does the old cat want to talk to me about?&rdquo; said Harrington, lazily,
+      to Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Zoe who replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't you guess, dear?&rdquo; said she, tenderly&mdash;&ldquo;our misconduct.&rdquo; Then
+      she put her head on his shoulder, as much as to say, &ldquo;But we have a more
+      lenient judge here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As if I could not see <i>that</i> without her assistance!&rdquo; said
+      Harrington Vizard. (Puff!) At which comfortable reply Zoe looked very
+      rueful, and Fanny burst out laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon after this Fanny gave Zoe a look, and they retired to their rooms;
+      and Zoe said she would never come out again, and Fanny must stay with her.
+      Fanny felt sure <i>ennui</i> would thaw that resolve in a few hours; so
+      she submitted, but declared it was absurd, and the very way to give a
+      perfect trifle importance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Kiss your hand!&rdquo; said she, disdainfully&mdash;&ldquo;that is nothing. If I was
+      the man, I'd have kissed both your cheeks long before this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I should have boxed your ears and made you cry,&rdquo; said Zoe, with calm
+      superiority.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So she had her way, and the deserted Severne felt dull, but was too good a
+      general to show it. He bestowed his welcome company on Mr. Vizard, walked
+      with him, talked with him, and made himself so agreeable, that Vizard, who
+      admired him greatly, said to him, &ldquo;What a good fellow you are, to bestow
+      your sunshine on me. I began to be afraid those girls had got you, and
+      tied you to their apron-strings altogether.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no!&rdquo; said Severne: &ldquo;they are charming; but, after all, one can't do
+      without a male friend: there are so few things that interest ladies.
+      Unless you can talk red-hot religion, you are bound to flirt with them a
+      little. To be sure, they look shy, if you do, but if you don't&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They <i>are</i> bored; whereas they only <i>looked</i> shy. I know 'em.
+      Call another subject, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I will; but perhaps it may not be so agreeable a one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is very unlikely,&rdquo; said the woman-hater, dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it is Tin. I'm rather short. You see, when I fell in with you at
+      Monaco, I had no idea of coming this way; but, meeting with an old college
+      friend&mdash;what a tie college is, isn't it? There is nothing like it;
+      when you have been at college with a man, you seem never to wear him out,
+      as you do the acquaintances you make afterward.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is very true,&rdquo; said Vizard warmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Isn't it? Now, for instance, if I had only known you of late years, I
+      should feel awfully shy of borrowing a few hundreds of you&mdash;for a
+      month or two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know why you should, old fellow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should, though. But having been at college together makes all the
+      difference. I don't mind telling you that I have never been at Homburg
+      without taking a turn at the table, and I am grizzling awfully now at not
+      having sent to my man of business for funds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How much do you want? That is the only question.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Glad to hear it,&rdquo; thought Severne. &ldquo;Well, let me see, you can't back your
+      luck with less than five hundred.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but we have been out two months; I am afraid I haven't so much
+      left. Just let me see.&rdquo; He took out his pocket-book, and examined his
+      letter of credit. &ldquo;Do you want it to-day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes; I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, I am afraid you can only have three hundred. But I will
+      telegraph Herries, and funds will be here to-morrow afternoon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said Severne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard took him to the bank, and exhausted his letter of credit: then to
+      the telegraph-office, and telegraphed Herries to enlarge his credit at
+      once. He handed Severne the three hundred pounds. The young man's eye
+      flashed, and it cost him an effort not to snatch them and wave them over
+      his head with joy: but he controlled himself, and took them like
+      two-pence-halfpenny. &ldquo;Thank you, old fellow,&rdquo; said he. Then, still more
+      carelessly, &ldquo;Like my I O U?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As you please,&rdquo; said Vizard, with similar indifference; only real.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After he had got the money, Severne's conversational powers relaxed&mdash;short
+      answers&mdash;long reveries.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard observed, stopped short, and eyed him. &ldquo;I remember something at
+      Oxford, and I am afraid you are a gambler; if you are, you won't be good
+      for much till you have lost that three hundred. It will be a dull evening
+      for me without you: I know what I'll do&mdash;I'll take my hen-party to
+      the opera at Homburg. There are stalls to be got here. I'll get one for
+      you, on the chance of your dropping in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The stalls were purchased, and the friends returned at once to the hotel,
+      to give the ladies timely intimation. They found Fanny and Zoe seated,
+      rather disconsolate, in the apartment Zoe had formally renounced: at sight
+      of the stall tickets, the pair uttered joyful cries, looked at each other,
+      and vanished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You won't see <i>them</i> any more till dinner-time,&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;They
+      will be discussing dress, selecting dress, trying dresses, and changing
+      dresses, for the next three hours.&rdquo; He turned round while speaking, and
+      there was Severne slipping away to his own bedroom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus deserted on all sides, he stepped into the balcony and lighted a
+      cigar. While he was smoking it, he observed an English gentleman, with a
+      stalwart figure and a beautiful brown beard, standing on the steps of the
+      hotel. &ldquo;Halloo!&rdquo; said he, and hailed him. &ldquo;Hi, Uxmoor! is that you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Uxmoor looked up, and knew him. He entered the hotel, and the next
+      minute the waiter ushered him into Vizard's sitting-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Uxmoor, like Mr. Vizard, was a landed proprietor in Barfordshire. The
+      county is large, and they lived too many miles apart to visit; but they
+      met, and agreed, at elections and county business, and had a respect for
+      each other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meeting at Frankfort, these two found plenty to say to each other about
+      home; and as Lord Uxmoor was alone, Vizard asked him to dine. &ldquo;You will
+      balance us,&rdquo; said he: &ldquo;we are terribly overpetticoated, and one of them is
+      an old maid. We generally dine at the <i>table-d'hote,</i> but I have
+      ordered dinner <i>here</i> to-day: we are going to the opera at Homburg.
+      You are not obliged to do that, you know. You are in for a bad dinner,
+      that is all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To tell the truth,&rdquo; said Lord Uxmoor, &ldquo;I don't care for music.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you deserve a statue for not pretending to love it. I adore it, for
+      my part, and I wish I was going alone, for my hens will be sure to cackle
+      <i>mal 'a propos,</i> and spoil some famous melody with talking about it,
+      and who sung it in London, instead of listening to it, and thanking God
+      for it in deep silence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Uxmoor stared a little at this sudden sally, for he was unacquainted
+      with Vizard's one eccentricity, having met him only on county business, at
+      which he was extra rational, and passed for a great scholar. He really did
+      suck good books as well as cigars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a few more words, they parted till dinner-time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Uxmoor came to his appointment, and found his host and Miss Maitland,
+      whom he knew; and he was in languid conversation with them, when a
+      side-door opened, and in walked Fanny Dover, fair and bright, in Cambridge
+      blue, her hair well dressed by Zoe's maid in the style of the day. Lord
+      Uxmoor rose, and received his fair country-woman with respectful zeal; he
+      had met her once before. She, too, sparkled with pleasure at meeting a
+      Barfordshire squire with a long pedigree, purse, and beard&mdash;three
+      things she admired greatly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the midst of this, in glided Zoe, and seemed to extinguish everybody,
+      and even to pale the lights, with her dark yet sunlike beauty. She was
+      dressed in a creamy-white satin that glinted like mother-of-pearl, its
+      sheen and glory unfrittered with a single idiotic trimming; on her breast
+      a large diamond cross. Her head was an Athenian sculpture&mdash;no
+      chignon, but the tight coils of antiquity; at their side, one diamond star
+      sparkled vivid flame, by its contrast with those polished ebon snakes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Uxmoor was dazzled, transfixed, at the vision, and bowed very low
+      when Vizard introduced him in an off-hand way, saying, &ldquo;My sister, Miss
+      Vizard; but I dare say you have met her at the county balls.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have never been so fortunate,&rdquo; said Uxmoor, humbly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have,&rdquo; said Zoe; &ldquo;that is, I saw you waltzing with Lady Betty Gore at
+      the race ball two years ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo; said Vizard, alarmed. &ldquo;Uxmoor, were you waltzing with Lady Betty
+      Gore?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have it on too high an authority for me to contradict.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Finding Zoe was to be trusted as a county chronicle, Vizard turned sharply
+      to her, and said, &ldquo;And was he flirting with her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe colored a little, and said, &ldquo;Now, Harrington, how can I tell?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You little hypocrite,&rdquo; said Vizard, &ldquo;who can tell better?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this retort Zoe blushed high, and the water came into her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nobody minded that but Uxmoor, and Vizard went on to explain, &ldquo;That Lady
+      Betty Gore is as heartless a coquette as any in the county; and don't you
+      flirt with her, or you will get entangled.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You disapprove her,&rdquo; said Uxmoor, coolly; &ldquo;then I give her up forever.&rdquo;
+       He looked at Zoe while he said this, and felt how easy it would be to
+      resign Lady Betty and a great many more for this peerless creature. He did
+      not mean her to understand what was passing in his mind; he did not know
+      how subtle and observant the most innocent girl is in such matters. Zoe
+      blushed, and drew away from him. Just then Ned Severne came in, and Vizard
+      introduced him to Uxmoor with great geniality and pride. The charming
+      young man was in a black surtout, with a blue scarf, the very tint for his
+      complexion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girls looked at one another, and in a moment Fanny was elected Zoe's
+      agent. She signaled Severne, and when he came to her she said, for Zoe,
+      &ldquo;Don't you know we are going to the opera at Homburg?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I know,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;and I hope you will have a pleasanter evening
+      than I shall.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not coming with us?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said he, sorrowfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had better,&rdquo; said Fanny, with a deal of quiet point, more, indeed,
+      than Zoe's pride approved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not if Mr. Severne has something more attractive,&rdquo; said she, turning
+      palish and pinkish by turns.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All this went on <i>sotto voce,</i> and Uxmoor, out of good-breeding,
+      entered into conversation with Miss Maitland and Vizard. Severne availed
+      himself of this diversion, and fixed his eyes on Zoe with an air of gentle
+      reproach, then took a letter out of his pocket, and handed it to Fanny.
+      She read it, and gave it to Zoe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was dated from &ldquo;The Golden Star,&rdquo; Homburg.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DEAR NED&mdash;I am worse to-day, and all alone. Now and then I almost
+      fear I may not pull through. But perhaps that is through being so hipped.
+      Do come and spend this evening with me like a good, kind fellow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Telegraph reply.
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;S. T.&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor fellow,&rdquo; said Ned; &ldquo;my heart bleeds for him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe was affected by this, and turned liquid and loving eyes on &ldquo;dear Ned.&rdquo;
+       But Fanny stood her ground. &ldquo;Go to 'S. T.' to-morrow morning, but don't
+      desert 'Z. V.' and 'F. D.' to-night.&rdquo; Zoe smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I have telegraphed!&rdquo; objected Ned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then telegraph again&mdash;<i>not,&rdquo;</i> said Fanny firmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, this was unexpected. Severne had set his heart upon <i>rouge et noir,</i>
+      but still he was afraid of offending Zoe; and, besides, he saw Uxmoor,
+      with his noble beard and brown eyes, casting rapturous glances at her.
+      &ldquo;Let Miss Vizard decide,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Don't let me be so unhappy as to
+      offend her twice in one day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe's pride and goodness dictated her answer, in spite of her wishes. She
+      said, in a low voice, &ldquo;Go to your sick friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There,&rdquo; said Severne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hear,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;She means 'go;' but you shall repent it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean what I say,&rdquo; said Zoe, with real dignity. &ldquo;It is my habit.&rdquo; And
+      the next moment she quietly left the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She sat down in her bedroom, mortified and alarmed. What! Had it come to
+      this, that she felt her heart turn cold just because that young man said
+      he could not accompany her&mdash;on a single evening! Then first she
+      discovered that it was for him she had dressed, and had, for once,
+      beautified her beauty&mdash;for <i>him;</i> that with Fanny she had dwelt
+      upon the delights of the music, but had secretly thought of appearing
+      publicly on <i>his</i> arm, and dazzling people by their united and
+      contrasted beauty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She rose, all of a sudden, and looked keenly at herself in the glass, to
+      see if she had not somehow overrated her attractions. But the glass was
+      reassuring. It told her not one man in a million could go to a sick friend
+      that night, when he might pass the evening by her side, and visit his
+      friend early in the morning. Best loved is best served. Tears of mortified
+      vanity were in her eyes; but she smiled through them at the glass; then
+      dried them carefully, and went back to the dining-room radiant, to all
+      appearance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dinner was just served, and her brother, to do honor to the new-comer,
+      waved his sister to a seat by Lord Uxmoor. He looked charmed at the
+      arrangement, and showed a great desire to please her, but at first was
+      unable to find good topics. After several timid overtures on his part, she
+      assisted him, out of good-nature, She knew by report that he was a very
+      benevolent young man, bent on improving the home, habits, wages, and
+      comforts of the agricultural poor. She led him to this, and his eyes
+      sparkled with pleasure, and his homely but manly face lighted, and was
+      elevated by the sympathy she expressed in these worthy objects. He could
+      not help thinking: &ldquo;What a Lady Uxmoor this would make! She and I and her
+      brother might leaven the county.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And all this time she would not even bestow a glance on Severne. She was
+      not an angel. She had said, &ldquo;Go to your sick friend;&rdquo; but she had not
+      said, &ldquo;I will smart alone if you <i>do.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne sat by Fanny, and seemed dejected, but, as usual, polite and
+      charming. She was smilingly cruel; regaled him with Lord Uxmoor's wealth
+      and virtues, and said he was an excellent match, and all she-Barfordshire
+      pulling caps for him. Severne only sighed; he offered no resistance; and
+      at last she could not go on nagging a handsome fellow, who only sighed, so
+      she said, &ldquo;Well, <i>there;</i> I advise you to join us before the opera is
+      over, that is all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will, I will!&rdquo; said he, eagerly. &ldquo;Oh, thank you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dinner was dispatched rather rapidly, because of the opera.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the ladies got their cloaks and lace scarfs, to put over their heads
+      coming home, the party proved to be only three, and the tickets five; for
+      Miss Maitland pleaded headache.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On this, Lord Uxmoor said, rather timidly, he should like to go.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you said you hated music,&rdquo; said Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Uxmoor colored. &ldquo;I recant,&rdquo; said he, bluntly; and everybody saw what
+      had operated his conversion. That is a pun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is half an hour, by rail, from Frankfort to Homburg, and the party
+      could not be seated together. Vizard bestowed Zoe and Lord Uxmoor in one
+      carriage, Fanny and Severne in another, and himself and a cigar in the
+      third. Severne sat gazing piteously on Fanny Dover, but never said a word.
+      She sat and eyed him satirically for a good while, and then she said,
+      cheerfully, &ldquo;Well, Mr. Severne, how do you like the turn things are
+      taking?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Dover, I am very unhappy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Serves you right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, pray don't say that. It is on you I depend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On me, sir! What have I to do with your flirtations?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; but you are so clever, and so good. If for once you will take a poor
+      fellow's part with Miss Vizard, behind my back; oh, please do&mdash;pray
+      do,&rdquo; and, in the ardor of entreaty, he caught Fanny's white hand and
+      kissed it with warm but respectful devotion. Indeed, he held it and kissed
+      it again and again, till Fanny, though she minded it no more than marble,
+      was going to ask him satirically whether he had not almost done with it,
+      when at last he contrived to squeeze out one of his little hysterical
+      tears, and drop it on her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, the girl was not butter, like some of her sex; far from it: but
+      neither was she wood&mdash;indeed, she was not old enough for that&mdash;so
+      this crocodile tear won her for the time being. &ldquo;There&mdash;there,&rdquo; said
+      she; &ldquo;don't be a baby. I'll be on your side tonight; only, if you care for
+      her, come and look after her yourself. Beautiful women with money won't
+      stand neglect, Mr. Severne; and why should they? They are not like poor
+      me; they have got the game in their hands.&rdquo; The train stopped. Vizard's
+      party drove to the opera, and Severne ordered a cab to The Golden Star,
+      meaning to stop it and get out; but, looking at his watch, he found it
+      wanted half an hour to gambling time, so he settled to have a cup of
+      coffee first, and a cigar. With this view he let the man drive him to The
+      Golden Star.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      INA KLOSKING worked night and day upon Siebel, in Gounod's &ldquo;Faust,&rdquo; and
+      upon the songs that had been added to give weight to the part.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She came early to the theater at night, and sat, half dressed, fatigued,
+      and nervous, in her dressing-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Crash!&mdash;the first <i>coup d'archet</i> announced the overture, and
+      roused her energy, as if Ithuriel's spear had pricked her. She came down
+      dressed, to listen at one of the upper entrances, to fill herself with the
+      musical theme, before taking her part in it, and also to gauge the
+      audience and the singers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man Faust was a German; but the musical part Faust seems better suited
+      to an Italian or a Frenchman. Indeed, some say that, as a rule, the German
+      genius excels in creation and the Italian in representation or
+      interpretation. For my part, I am unable to judge nations in the lump, as
+      some fine fellows do, because nations are composed of very different
+      individuals, and I know only one to the million; but I do take on me to
+      say that the individual Herr who executed Doctor Faustus at Homburg that
+      night had everything to learn, except what he had to unlearn. His person
+      was obese; his delivery of the words was mouthing, chewing, and gurgling;
+      and he uttered the notes in tune, but without point, pathos, or passion; a
+      steady lay-clerk from York or Durham Cathedral would have done a little
+      better, because he would have been no colder at heart, and more exact in
+      time, and would have sung clean; whereas this gentleman set his windpipe
+      trembling, all through the business, as if palsy were passion. By what
+      system of leverage such a man came to be hoisted on to such a pinnacle of
+      song as &ldquo;Faust&rdquo; puzzled our English friends in front as much as it did the
+      Anglo-Danish artist at the wing; for English girls know what is what in
+      opera.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Marguerite had a voice of sufficient compass, and rather sweet, though
+      thin. The part demands a better <i>actress</i> than Patti, and this
+      Fraulein was not half as good: she put on the painful grin of a
+      prize-fighter who has received a staggerer, and grinned all through the
+      part, though there is little in it to grin at.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She also suffered by having to play to a Faust milked of his poetry, and
+      self-smitten with a <i>tremolo</i> which, as I said before, is the voice
+      of palsy, and is not, nor ever was, nor ever will be, the voice of
+      passion. Bless your heart, passion is a manly thing, a womanly thing, a
+      grand thing, not a feeble, quavering, palsied, anile, senile thing. Learn
+      that, ye trembling, quavering idiots of song!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They let me down,&rdquo; whispered Ina Klosking to her faithful Ashmead. &ldquo;I
+      feel all out of tune. I shall never be able. And the audience so cold. It
+      will be like singing in a sepulcher.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What would you think of them, if they applauded?&rdquo; said Ashmead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should say they were good, charitable souls, and the very audience I
+      shall want in five minutes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; said Ashmead, &ldquo;all you want is a discriminating audience; and
+      this is one. Remember they have all seen Patti in Marguerite. Is it likely
+      they would applaud this tin stick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina turned the conversation with feminine quickness. &ldquo;Mr. Ashmead, have
+      you kept your promise; my name is not in the programme?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not; and a great mistake too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not been announced by name in any way?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. But, of course, I have nursed you a bit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nursed me? What is that? Oh, what have you been doing? No <i>charlatanerie,</i>
+      I hope.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing of the kind,&rdquo; said Ashmead, stoutly; &ldquo;only the regular business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And pray what is the regular business?&rdquo; inquired Ina, distrustfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course, I sent on the manager to say that Mademoiselle Schwaub
+      had been taken seriously ill; that we had been fearing we must break faith
+      with the public for the first time; but that a cantatrice, who had left
+      the stage, appreciating our difficulty, had, with rare kindness, come to
+      our aid for this one night: we felt sure a Humbug audience&mdash;what am I
+      saying?&mdash;a Homburg audience would appreciate this, and make due
+      allowance for a performance undertaken in such a spirit, and with
+      imperfect rehearsals, etc.&mdash;in short, the usual patter; and the usual
+      effect, great applause. Indeed, the only applause that I have heard in
+      this theater to-night. Ashmead ahead of Gounod, so far.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina Klosking put both hands before her face, and uttered a little moan.
+      She had really a soul above these artifices. &ldquo;So, then,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;if
+      they do receive me, it will be out of charity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; but on your first night you must have two strings to your bow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I have only one. These cajoling speeches are a waste of breath. A
+      singer can sing, or she can <i>not</i> sing, and they find out which it is
+      as soon as she opens her mouth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, you open your mouth&mdash;that is just what half the singers
+      can't do&mdash;and they will soon find out you can sing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope they may. I do not know. I am discouraged. I'm terrified. I think
+      it is stage-fright,&rdquo; and she began to tremble visibly, for the time drew
+      near.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead ran off and brought her some brandy-and-water. She put up her hand
+      against it with royal scorn. &ldquo;No, sir! If the theater, and the lights, and
+      the people, the mind of Goethe, and the music of Gounod, can't excite me
+      without <i>that,</i> put me at the counter of a cafe', for I have no
+      business here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The power, without violence, and the grandeur with which she said this
+      would have brought down the house had she spoken it in a play without a
+      note of music; and Ashmead drew back respectfully, but chuckled internally
+      at the idea of this Minerva giving change in a cafe'.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now her cue was coming. She ordered everybody out of the entrance not
+      very ceremoniously, and drew well back. Then, at her cue, she made a
+      stately rush, and so, being in full swing before she cleared the wing, she
+      swept into the center of the stage with great rapidity and resolution; no
+      trace either of her sorrowful heart or her quaking limbs was visible from
+      the front.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a little applause, all due to Ashmead's preliminary apology, but
+      there was no real reception; for Germany is large and musical, and she was
+      not immediately recognized at Homburg. But there was that indescribable
+      flutter which marks a good impression and keen expectation suddenly
+      aroused. She was beautiful on the stage for one thing; her figure rather
+      tall and stately, and her face full of power: and then the very way she
+      came on showed the step and carriage of an artist at home upon the boards.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She cast a rapid glance round the house, observed its size, and felt her
+      way. She sung her first song evenly, but not tamely, yet with restrained
+      power; but the tones were so full and flexible, the expression so easy yet
+      exact, that the judges saw there was no effort, and suspected something
+      big might be yet in store to-night. At the end of her song she did let out
+      for a moment, and, at this well-timed foretaste of her power, there was
+      applause, but nothing extravagant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was quite content, however. She met Ashmead, as she came off, and
+      said, &ldquo;All is well, my friend, so far. They are sitting in judgment on me,
+      like sensible people, and not in a hurry. I rather like that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your own fault,&rdquo; said Joseph. &ldquo;You should have been announced. Prejudice
+      is a surer card than judgment. The public is an ass.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It must come to the same thing in the end,&rdquo; said the Klosking firmly.
+      &ldquo;One can sing, or one cannot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her next song was encored, and she came off flushed with art and gratified
+      pride. &ldquo;I have no fears now,&rdquo; said she, to her Achates, firmly. &ldquo;I have my
+      barometer; a young lady in the stalls. Oh, such a beautiful creature, with
+      black hair and eyes! She applauds me fearlessly. Her glorious eyes speak
+      to mine, and inspire me. She is <i>happy,</i> she is. I drink sunbeams at
+      her. I shall act and sing 'Le Parlate d'Amor' for <i>her</i>&mdash;and you
+      will see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Between the acts, who should come in but Ned Severne, and glided into the
+      vacant stall by Zoe's side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She quivered at his coming near her; he saw it, and felt a thrill of
+      pleasure himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How is 'S. T.'?&rdquo; said she, kindly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'S. T.'?&rdquo; said he, forgetting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, your sick friend, to be sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, not half so bad as he thought. I was a fool to lose an hour of you
+      for <i>him.</i> He was hipped; had lost all his money at <i>rouge et noir.</i>
+      So I lent him fifty pounds, and that did him more good than the doctor.
+      You forgive me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive you? I approve. Are you going back to him?&rdquo; said she, demurely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, thank you, I have made sacrifices enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And so indeed he had, having got cleaned out of three hundred pounds
+      through preferring gambling to beauty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Singers good?&rdquo; he inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wretched, all but one; and she is divine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed. Who is she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know. A gentleman in black came out&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mephistopheles?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&mdash;how dare you?&mdash;and said a singer that had retired would
+      perform the part of 'Siebel, to oblige; and she has obliged me for one.
+      She is, oh, so superior to the others! Such a heavenly contralto; and her
+      upper notes, honey dropping from the comb. And then she is so modest, so
+      dignified, <i>and</i> so beautiful. She is fair as a lily; and such a
+      queen-like brow, and deep, gray eyes, full of sadness and soul. I'm afraid
+      she is not happy. Once or twice she fixed them on me, and they magnetized
+      me, and drew me to her. So I magnetized her in return. I should know her
+      anywhere fifty years hence. Now, if I were a man, I should love that woman
+      and make her love me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I am very glad you are not a man,&rdquo; said Severne, tenderly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So am I,&rdquo; whispered Zoe, and blushed. The curtain rose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen now, Mr. Chatterbox,&rdquo; said Zoe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ned Severne composed himself to listen; but Fraulein Graas had not sung
+      many bars before he revolted. &ldquo;Listen to what?&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;and look at
+      what? The only Marguerite in the place is by my side.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe colored with pleasure; but her good sense was not to be blinded. &ldquo;The
+      only good black Mephistophe-<i>less</i> you mean,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;To be
+      Marguerite, one must be great, and sweet, and tender; yes, and far more
+      lovely than ever woman was. That lady is a better color for the part than
+      I am; but neither she nor I shall ever be Marguerite.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He murmured in her ear. &ldquo;You are Marguerite, for you could fire a man's
+      heart so that he would sell his soul to gain you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the accent of passion and the sensitive girl quivered. Yet she
+      defended herself&mdash;in words, &ldquo;Hush!&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;That is wicked&mdash;out
+      of an opera. Fanny would laugh at you, if she heard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here were two reasons for not making such hot love in the stalls of an
+      opera. Which of the two weighed most with the fair reasoner shall be left
+      to her own sex.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The brief scene ended with the declaration of the evil spirit that
+      Marguerite is lost.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There,&rdquo; said Zoe, naively, &ldquo;that is over, thank goodness: now you will
+      hear <i>my</i> singer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Siebel and Marta came on from opposite sides of the stage. &ldquo;See!&rdquo; said
+      Zoe, &ldquo;isn't she lovely?&rdquo; and she turned her beaming face full on Severne,
+      to share her pleasure with him. To her amazement the man seemed
+      transformed: a dark cloud had come over his sunny countenance. He sat,
+      pale, and seemed to stare at the tall, majestic, dreamy singer, who stood
+      immovable, dressed like a velvet youth, yet looking like no earthly boy,
+      but a draped statue of Mercury,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The blood left his lips, and Zoe thought he was faint; but the next moment
+      he put his handkerchief hastily to his nose, and wriggled his way out,
+      with a rush and a crawl, strangely combined, at the very moment when the
+      singer delivered her first commanding note of recitative.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Everybody about looked surprised and disgusted at so ill-timed an exit;
+      but Zoe, who had seen his white face, was seriously alarmed, and made a
+      movement to rise too, and watch, or even follow him; but, when he got to
+      the side, he looked back to her, and made her a signal that his nose was
+      bleeding, but it was of no great consequence. He even pointed with his
+      finger out and then back again, indicating he should not be long gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This re-assured her greatly; for she had always been told a little
+      bleeding of that sort was good for hot-headed young people. Then the
+      singer took complete hold of her. The composer, to balance the delightful
+      part of Marguerite, has given Siebel a melody with which wonders can be
+      done; and the Klosking had made a considerable reserve of her powers for
+      this crowning effort. After a recitative that rivaled the silver trumpet,
+      she flung herself with immediate and electrifying ardor into the melody;
+      the orchestra, taken by surprise, fought feebly for the old ripple; but
+      the Klosking, resolute by nature, was now mighty as Neptune, and would
+      have her big waves. The momentary struggle, in which she was loyally
+      seconded by the conductor, evoked her grand powers. Catgut had to yield to
+      brains, and the whole orchestra, composed, after all, of good musicians,
+      soon caught the divine afflatus, and the little theater seemed on fire
+      with music; the air, sung with a large rhythm, swelled and rose, and
+      thrilled every breast with amazement and delight; the house hung
+      breathless: by-and-by there were pale cheeks, panting bosoms, and wet
+      eyes, the true, rare triumphs of the sovereigns of song; and when the last
+      note had pealed and ceased to vibrate, the pent-up feelings broke forth in
+      a roar of applause, which shook the dome, followed by a clapping of hands,
+      like a salvo, that never stopped till Ina Klosking, who had retired, came
+      forward again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She courtesied with admirable dignity, modesty, and respectful gravity,
+      and the applause thundered, and people rose at her in clusters about the
+      house, and waved their hats and handkerchiefs at her, and a little Italian
+      recognized her, and cried out as loud as he could, &ldquo;Viva la Klosking!
+      viva!&rdquo; and she heard that, and it gave her a thrill; and Zoe Vizard, being
+      out of England, and, therefore, brave as a lioness, stood boldly up at her
+      full height, and, taking her bouquet in her right hand, carried it swiftly
+      to her left ear, and so flung it, with a free back-handed sweep, more
+      Oriental than English, into the air, and it lighted beside the singer; and
+      she saw the noble motion, and the bouquet fly, and, when she made her last
+      courtesy at the wing, she fixed her eyes on Zoe, and then put her hand to
+      her heart with a most touching gesture that said, &ldquo;Most of all I value
+      your bouquet and your praise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the house buzzed, and ranks were leveled; little people spoke to big
+      people, and big to little, in mutual congratulation; for at such rare
+      moments (except in Anglo-Saxony) instinct seems to tell men that true art
+      is a sunshine of the soul, and blesses the rich and the poor alike.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One person was affected in another way. Harrington Vizard sat rapt in
+      attention, and never took his eyes off her, yet said not a word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Several Russian and Prussian grandees sought an introduction to the new
+      singer. But she pleaded fatigue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The manager entreated her to sup with him, and meet the Grand Duke of
+      Hesse. She said she had a prior engagement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She went quietly home, and supped with her faithful Ashmead, and very
+      heartily too; for nature was exhausted, and agitation had quite spoiled
+      her dinner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Joseph Ashmead, in the pride of his heart, proposed a bottle of champagne.
+      The Queen of Song, with triumph flushed, looked rather blue at that. &ldquo;My
+      friend,&rdquo; said she, in a meek, deprecating way, &ldquo;we are working-people: is
+      not Bordeaux good enough for <i>us?&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but it is not good enough for the occasion,&rdquo; said Joseph, a little
+      testily. &ldquo;Well, never mind;&rdquo; and he muttered to himself, &ldquo;that is the
+      worst of <i>good</i> women: they are so terribly stingy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Queen of Song, with triumph flushed, did not catch these words, but
+      only a little growling. However, as supper proceeded, she got uneasy. So
+      she rang the bell, and ordered a <i>pint:</i> of this she drank one
+      spoonful. The remainder, co-operating with triumph and claret, kept
+      Ashmead in a great flow of spirits. He traced her a brilliant career. To
+      be photographed tomorrow morning as Siebel, and in plain dress. Paragraphs
+      in <i>Era, Figaro, Galignani, Inde'pendance Belge,</i> and the leading
+      dailies. Large wood-cuts before leaving Homburg for Paris, London, Vienna,
+      St. Petersburg, and New York.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm in your hands,&rdquo; said she, and smiled languidly, to please him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But by-and-by he looked at her, and found she was taking a little cry all
+      to herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear me!&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;what is the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My friend, forgive me. <i>He</i> was not there to share my triumph.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      AS the opera drew to an end, Zoe began to look round more and more for
+      Severne; but he did not come, and Lord Uxmoor offered his arm earnestly.
+      She took it; but hung back a moment on his very arm, to tell Harrington
+      Mr. Severne had been taken ill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the railway station the truant emerged suddenly, just as the train was
+      leaving; but Lord Uxmoor had secured three seats, and the defaulter had to
+      go with Harrington. On reaching the hotel, the ladies took their
+      bed-candles; but Uxmoor found time to propose an excursion next day,
+      Sunday, to a lovely little lake&mdash;open carriage, four horses. The
+      young ladies accepted, but Mr. Severne declined; he thanked Lord Uxmoor
+      politely, but he had arrears of correspondence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe cast a mortified and rather a haughty glance on him, and Fanny
+      shrugged her shoulders incredulously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These two ladies brushed hair together in Zoe's room. That is a soothing
+      operation, my masters, and famous for stimulating females to friendly
+      gossip; but this time there was, for once, a guarded reserve. Zoe was
+      irritated, puzzled, mortified, and even grieved by Severne's conduct.
+      Fanny was gnawed by jealousy, and out of temper. She had forgiven Zoe Ned
+      Severne. But that young lady was insatiable; Lord Uxmoor, too, had fallen
+      openly in love with her&mdash;openly to a female eye. So, then, a blonde
+      had no chance, with a dark girl by: thus reasoned she, and it was
+      intolerable. It was some time before either spoke an atom of what was
+      uppermost in her mind. They each doled out a hundred sentences that missed
+      the mind and mingled readily with the atmosphere, being, in fact, mere
+      preliminary and idle air. So two deer, in duel, go about and about, and
+      even affect to look another way, till they are ripe for collision. There
+      be writers would give the reader all the preliminary puffs of articulated
+      wind, and everybody would say, &ldquo;How clever! That is just the way girls
+      really talk.&rdquo; But I leave the glory of photographing nullities to the
+      geniuses of the age, and run to the first words which could, without
+      impiety, be called dialogue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you think his conduct a little mysterious?&rdquo; said Zoe, <i>mal 'a
+      propos</i> of anything that had been said hitherto.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, yes; rather,&rdquo; said Fanny, with marked carelessness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;First, a sick friend; then a bleeding at the nose; and now he won't drive
+      to the lake with us. Arrears of correspondence? Pooh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, Fanny's suspicions were deeper than Zoe's; she had observed Severne
+      keenly: but it was not her cue to speak. She yawned and said, &ldquo;What <i>does</i>
+      it matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be unkind, Fanny. It matters to <i>me.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not it. You have another ready.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What other? There is no one that I&mdash;Fanny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nonsense! The man is evidently smitten, and you keep encouraging
+      him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't; I am barely civil. And don't be ill-natured. What <i>can</i>
+      I do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, be content with one at a time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very rude to talk so. Besides, I haven't got one, much less two. I
+      begin to doubt <i>him;</i> and, Lord Uxmoor! you know I cannot possibly
+      care for him&mdash;an acquaintance of yesterday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you know all about him&mdash;that he is an excellent <i>parti,&rdquo;</i>
+      said Fanny, with a provoking sneer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was not to be borne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Zoe, &ldquo;I see; you want him for yourself. It is <i>you</i> that
+      are not content with one. You forget how poor Harrington would miss your
+      attentions. He would <i>begin</i> to appreciate them&mdash;when he had
+      lost them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This stung, and Fanny turned white and red by turns. &ldquo;I deserve this,&rdquo;
+       said she, &ldquo;for wasting advice on a coquette.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is not true. I'm no coquette; and here I am, asking your advice, and
+      you only snub me. You are a jealous, cross, unreasonable thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'm not a hypocrite.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never was called so before,&rdquo; said Zoe, nobly and gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you were not found out, that is all. You look so simple and
+      ingenuous, and blush if a man says half a word to you; and all the time
+      you are a greater flirt than I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Fanny!&rdquo; screamed Zoe, with horror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seems a repartee may be conveyed in a scream; for Fanny now lost her
+      temper altogether. &ldquo;Your conduct with those two men is abominable,&rdquo; said
+      she. &ldquo;I won't speak to you any more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg you will <i>not,</i> in your present temper,&rdquo; said Zoe, with
+      unaffected dignity, and rising like a Greek column.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny flounced out of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe sat down and sighed, and her glorious eyes were dimmed. Mystery&mdash;doubt&mdash;and
+      now a quarrel. What a day! At her age, a little cloud seems to darken the
+      whole sky.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next morning the little party met at breakfast. Lord Uxmoor, anticipating
+      a delightful day, was in high spirits, and he and Fanny kept up the ball.
+      She had resolved, in the silent watches of the night, to contest him with
+      Zoe, and make every possible use of Severne, in the conflict.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe was silent and <i>distraite,</i> and did not even try to compete with
+      her sparkling rival. But Lord Uxmoor's eyes often wandered from his
+      sprightly companion to Zoe, and it was plain he longed for a word from her
+      mouth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny observed, bit her lip, and tacked internally, &ldquo;'bout ship,&rdquo; as the
+      sailors say. Her game now, conceived in a moment, and at once put in
+      execution, was to encourage Uxmoor's attentions to Zoe. She began by
+      openly courting Mr. Severne, to make Zoe talk to Uxmoor, and also make him
+      think that Severne and she were the lovers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her intentions were to utilize the coming excursion: she would attach
+      herself to Harrington, and so drive Zoe and Uxmoor together; and then Lord
+      Uxmoor, at his present rate of amorous advance, would probably lead Zoe to
+      a detached rock, and make her a serious declaration. This good, artful
+      girl felt sure such a declaration, made a few months hence in
+      Barfordshire, would be accepted, and herself left in the cold. Therefore
+      she resolved it should be made prematurely, and in Prussia, with Severne
+      at hand, and so in all probability come to nothing. She even glimpsed a
+      vista of consequences, and in that little avenue discerned the figure of
+      Fanny Dover playing the part of consoler, friend, and ultimately spouse to
+      a wealthy noble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THE letters were brought in; one was to Vizard, from Herries, announcing a
+      remittance; one to Lord Uxmoor. On reading it, he was surprised into an
+      exclamation, and his face expressed great concern.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Zoe&mdash;&ldquo;Harrington!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Harrington's attention being thus drawn, he said, &ldquo;No bad news, I hope?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Uxmoor, in a low voice, &ldquo;very bad. My oldest, truest, dearest
+      friend has been seized with small-pox, and his life is in danger. He has
+      asked for me, poor fellow. This is from his sister. I must start by the
+      twelve o'clock train.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Small-pox! Why, it is contagious,&rdquo; cried Fanny; &ldquo;and so disfiguring!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't help that,&rdquo; said the honest fellow; and instantly rang the bell
+      for his servant, and gave the requisite orders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe, whose eye had never left him all the time, said, softly, &ldquo;It is brave
+      and good of you. We poor, emotional, cowardly girls should sit down and
+      cry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;You</i> would not, Miss Vizard,&rdquo; said he, firmly, looking full at her.
+      &ldquo;If you think you would, you don't know yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe colored high, and was silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Lord Uxmoor showed the true English gentleman. &ldquo;I do hope,&rdquo; said he,
+      earnestly, though in a somewhat broken voice, &ldquo;that you will not let this
+      spoil the pleasure we had planned together. Harrington will be my deputy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I don't know,&rdquo; said Harrington, sympathizingly. Mr. Severne
+      remarked, &ldquo;Such an occurrence puts pleasure out of one's head.&rdquo; This he
+      said, with his eyes on his plate, like one repeating a lesson. &ldquo;Vizard, I
+      entreat you,&rdquo; said Uxmoor, almost vexed. &ldquo;It will only make me more
+      unhappy if you don't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We will go,&rdquo; cried Zoe, earnestly; &ldquo;we promise to go. What does it
+      matter? We shall think of you and your poor friend wherever we are. And I
+      shall pray for him. But, ah, I know how little prayers avail to avert
+      these cruel bereavements.&rdquo; She was young, but old enough to have prayed
+      hard for her sick mother's life, and, like the rest of us, prayed in vain.
+      At this remembrance the tears ran undisguised down her cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The open sympathy of one so young and beautiful, and withal rather
+      reserved, made Lord Uxmoor gulp, and, not to break down before them all,
+      he blurted out that he must go and pack: with this he hurried away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was unhappy. Besides the calamity he dreaded, it was grievous to be
+      torn away from a woman he loved at first sight, and just when she had come
+      out so worthy of his love: she was a high-minded creature; she had been
+      silent and reserved so long as the conversation was trivial; but, when
+      trouble came, she was the one to speak to him bravely and kindly. Well,
+      what must be, must. All this ran through his mind, and made him sigh; but
+      it never occurred to him to shirk&mdash;to telegraph instead of going&mdash;nor
+      yet to value himself on his self-denial.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They did not see him again till he was on the point of going, and then he
+      took leave of them all, Zoe last. When he came to her, he ignored the
+      others, except that he lowered his voice in speaking to her. &ldquo;God bless
+      you for your kindness, Miss Vizard. It is a little hard upon a fellow to
+      have to run away from such an acquaintance, just when I have been so
+      fortunate as to make it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Lord Uxmoor,&rdquo; said Zoe, innocently, &ldquo;never mind that. Why, we live in
+      the same county, and we are on the way home. All I think of is your poor
+      friend; and do please telegraph&mdash;to Harrington.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He promised he would, and went away disappointed somehow at her last
+      words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he was gone, Severne went out on the balcony to smoke, and Harrington
+      held a council with the young ladies. &ldquo;Well, now,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;about this
+      trip to the lake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall not go, for one,&rdquo; said Zoe, resolutely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La!&rdquo; said Fanny, looking carefully away from her to Harrington; &ldquo;and she
+      was the one that insisted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe ignored the speaker and set her face stiffly toward Harrington. &ldquo;She
+      only <i>said</i> that to <i>him.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>Fanny.</i> &ldquo;But, unfortunately, ears are not confined to the noble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>Zoe.</i> &ldquo;Nor tongues to the discreet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Both these remarks were addressed pointedly to Harrington.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Halloo!&rdquo; said he, looking from one flaming girl to the other; &ldquo;am I to be
+      a shuttlecock, and your discreet tongues the battledoors? What is up?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We don't speak,&rdquo; said the frank Zoe; &ldquo;that is up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, what is the row?&rdquo;'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No matter&rdquo; (stiffly).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No great matter, I'll be bound. 'Toll, toll the bell.' Here goes one more
+      immortal friendship&mdash;quenched in eternal silence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Both ladies bridled. Neither spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And dead silence, as ladies understand it, consists in speaking <i>at</i>
+      one another instead of <i>to.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is well-bred taciturnity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The dignified reserve that distinguishes an estrangement from a
+      squabble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I admire permanent sentiments, good or bad; constant resolves, etc.
+      Your friendship has not proved immortal; so, now let us see how long you
+      can hold spite&mdash;SIEVES!&rdquo; Then he affected to start. &ldquo;What is this? I
+      spy a rational creature out on yonder balcony. I hasten to join him.
+      'Birds of a feather, you know;&rdquo; and with that he went out to his favorite,
+      'and never looked behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young ladies, indignant at the contempt the big man had presumed to
+      cast upon the constant soul of woman, turned two red faces and four
+      sparkling eyes to each other, with the instinctive sympathy of the jointly
+      injured; but remembering in time, turned sharply round again, and
+      presented napes, and so sat sullen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By-and-by a chilling thought fell upon them both at the same moment of
+      time. The men were good friends as usual, safe, by sex, from tiffs, and
+      could do without them; and a dull day impended over the hostile fair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon the ingenious Fanny resolved to make a splash of some sort and
+      disturb stagnation. She suddenly cried out, &ldquo;La! and the man is gone away:
+      so what is the use?&rdquo; This remark she was careful to level at bare space.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe, addressing the same person&mdash;space, to wit&mdash;inquired of him
+      if anybody in his parts knew to whom this young lady was addressing
+      herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To a girl that is too sensible not to see the folly of quarreling about a
+      man&mdash;<i>when he is gone,&rdquo;</i> said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If it is me you mean,&rdquo; said Zoe stiffly, <i>&ldquo;really</i> I am <i>surprised.</i>
+      You forget we are at daggers drawn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't, dear; and parted forever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe smiled at that against her will.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zoe!&rdquo; (penitentially).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Frances!&rdquo; (archly).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come cuddle me quick!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe was all round her neck in a moment, like a lace scarf, and there was
+      violent kissing, with a tear or two.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then they put an arm round each other's waist, and went all about the
+      premises intertwined like snakes; and Zoe gave Fanny her cameo brooch, the
+      one with the pearls round it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The person to whom Vizard fled from the tongue of beauty was a delightful
+      talker: he read two or three newspapers every day, and recollected the
+      best things. Now, it is not everybody can remember a thousand disconnected
+      facts and recall them apropos. He was various, fluent, and, above all,
+      superficial; and such are your best conversers. They have something good
+      and strictly ephemeral to say on everything, and don't know enough of
+      anything to impale their hearers. In my youth there talked in Pall Mall a
+      gentleman known as &ldquo;Conversation Sharpe.&rdquo; He eclipsed everybody. Even
+      Macaulay paled. Sharpe talked all the blessed afternoon, and grave men
+      listened, enchanted; and, of all he said, nothing stuck. Where be now your
+      Sharpiana? The learned may be compared to mines. These desultory charmers
+      are more like the ornamental cottage near Staines, forty or fifty rooms,
+      and the whole structure one story high. The mine teems with solid wealth;
+      but you must grope and trouble to come to it: it is easier and pleasanter
+      to run about the cottage with a lot of rooms. all on the ground-floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The mind and body both get into habits&mdash;sometimes apart, sometimes in
+      conjunction. Nowadays we seat the body to work the intellect, even in its
+      lower form of mechanical labor: it is your clod that toddles about
+      laboring. The Peripatetics did not endure: their method was not suited to
+      man's microcosm. Bodily movements fritter mental attention. We <i>sit</i>
+      at the feet of Gamaliel, or, as some call him, Tyndal; and we sit to Bacon
+      and Adam Smith. But, when we are standing or walking, we love to take
+      brains easy. If this delightful chatterbox had been taken down shorthand
+      and printed, and Vizard had been set down to Severni Opuscula, ten volumes&mdash;and,
+      mind you, Severne had talked all ten by this time&mdash;the Barfordshire
+      squire and old Oxonian would have cried out for &ldquo;more matter with less
+      art,&rdquo; and perhaps have even fled for relief to some shorter treatise&mdash;Bacon's
+      &ldquo;Essays,&rdquo; Browne's &ldquo;Religio Medici,&rdquo; or Buckle's &ldquo;Civilization.&rdquo; But
+      lounging in a balcony, and lazily breathing a cloud, he could have
+      listened all day to his desultory, delightful friend, overflowing with
+      little questions, little answers, little queries, little epigrams, little
+      maxims <i>'a la Rochefoucauld,</i> little histories, little anecdotes,
+      little gossip, and little snapshots at every feather flying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas, Gaudia, discursus,
+      nostri farrago Severni.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But, alas! after an hour of touch-and-go, of superficiality and soft
+      delight, the desultory charmer fell on a subject he had studied. So then
+      he bored his companion for the first time in all the tour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, to tell the honest truth, Mr. Severne had hitherto been pleasing his
+      friend with a cold-blooded purpose. His preliminary gossip, that made the
+      time fly so agreeably, was intended to oil the way to lubricate the
+      passage of a premeditated pill. As soon as he had got Vizard into perfect
+      good humor, he said, apropos of nothing that had passed, &ldquo;By-the-by, old
+      fellow, that five hundred pounds you promised to lend me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard was startled by this sudden turn of a conversation, hitherto
+      agreeable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you have had three hundred and lost it,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Now, take my
+      advice, and don't lose any more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't mean to. But I am determined to win back the three hundred, and a
+      great deal more, before I leave this. I have discovered a system, an
+      infallible one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry to hear it,&rdquo; said Harrington, gravely. &ldquo;That is the second
+      step on the road to ruin; the gambler with a system is the confirmed
+      maniac.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! because <i>other</i> systems have been tried, and proved to be
+      false? Mine is untried, and it is mere prejudice to condemn it unheard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Propound it, then,&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;Only please observe the bank has got
+      its system; you forget that: and the bank's system is to take a positive
+      advantage, which must win in the long run; therefore, all counter-systems
+      must lose in the long run.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the bank is tied to a long run, the individual player is not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This reply checked Vizard for a moment and the other followed up his
+      advantage. &ldquo;Now, Vizard, be reasonable. What would the trifling advantage
+      the bank derives from an incident, which occurs only once in twenty-eight
+      deals, avail against a player who could foresee at any given deal whether
+      the card that was going to come up the nearest thirty would be on the red
+      or black?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No avail at all. God Almighty could break the bank every afternoon. <i>Apre's?</i>
+      as we say in France. Do you pretend to omniscience?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not exactly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but prescience of isolated events, preceded by no <i>indicia,</i>
+      belongs only to omniscience. Did they not teach you that much at Oxford?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They taught me very little at Oxford.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fault of the place, eh? You taught <i>them</i> something, though; and the
+      present conversation reminds me of it. In your second term, when every
+      other man is still quizzed and kept down as a freshman, you, were already
+      a leader; a chief of misrule. You founded a whist-club in Trinity, the
+      primmest college of all. The Dons rooted you out in college; but you did
+      not succumb; you fulfilled the saying of Sydney Smith, that 'Cribbage
+      should be played in caverns, and sixpenny-whist in the howling
+      wilderness.' Ha! ha! how well I remember riding across Bullington Green
+      one fine afternoon, and finding four Oxford hacks haltered in a row, and
+      the four undergraduates that had hired them on long tick, sitting
+      cross-legged under the hedge like Turks or tailors, round a rude table
+      with the legs sawed down to stumps. You had two packs, and a portable
+      inkstand, and were so hard at it that I put my mare's nose right over the
+      quartet before you saw either her or me. That hedge was like a drift of
+      odoriferous snow the hawthorn bloom, and primroses sparkled on its bank
+      like topazes. The birds chirruped, the sky smiled, the sun burned
+      perfumes; and there sat my lord and his fellow-maniacs, snick-snack&mdash;pit-pat&mdash;cutting,
+      dealing, playing, revoking, scoring, and exchanging I. O. U. 's not worth
+      the paper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All true, but the revoking,&rdquo; said Severne, merrily. &ldquo;Monster! by the
+      memory of those youthful days, I demand a fair hearing.&rdquo; Then, gravely,
+      &ldquo;Hang it all, Vizard, I am not a fellow that is always intruding his
+      affairs and his theories upon other men.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, no,&rdquo; said Vizard, hastily, and half apologetically; &ldquo;go on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, of course I don't pretend to foreknowledge; but I do to
+      experience, and you know experience teaches the wise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not to fling five hundred after three. There&mdash;I beg pardon. Proceed,
+      instructor of youth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do listen, then: experience teaches us that luck has its laws; and I
+      build my system on one of them. If two opposite accidents are sure to
+      happen equally often in a total of fifty times, people, who have not
+      observed, expect them to happen turn about, and bet accordingly. But they
+      don't happen turn about; they make short runs, and sometimes long ones.
+      They positively avoid alternation. Have you not observed this at <i>trente
+      et quarante?&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you have not watched the cards.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not much. The faces of the gamblers were always my study. They are
+      instructive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, I'll give you an example outside&mdash;for the principle runs
+      through all equal chances&mdash;take the university boat-race: you have
+      kept your eye on that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rather. Never missed one yet. Come all the way from Barfordshire to see
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, there's an example.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of chance? No, thank you. That goes by strength, skill, wind, endurance,
+      chaste living, self-denial, and judicious training. Every winning boat is
+      manned by virtues.&rdquo; His eye flashed, and he was as earnest all in a moment
+      as he had been listless. A continental cynic had dubbed this insular cynic
+      mad.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The professor of chances smiled superior. &ldquo;Those things decide each
+      individual race, and the best men win, because it happens to be the only
+      race that is never sold. But go further back, and you find it is chance.
+      It is pure chance that sends the best men up to Cambridge two or three
+      years running, and then to Oxford. With this key, take the facts my system
+      rests on. There are two. The first is that in thirty and odd races and
+      matches, the university luck has come out equal on the river and at
+      Lord's: the second is, the luck has seldom alternated. I don't say, never.
+      But look at the list of events; it is published every March. You may see
+      there the great truth that even chances shun direct alternation. In this,
+      properly worked, lies a fortune at Homburg, where the play is square. Red
+      gains once; you back red next time, and stop. You are on black, and win;
+      you double. This is the game, if you have only a few pounds. But with five
+      hundred pounds you can double more courageously, and work the short run
+      hard; and that is how losses are averted and gains secured. Once at
+      Wiesbaden I caught a croupier, out on a holiday. It was Good-Friday, you
+      know. I gave him a stunning dinner. He was close as wax, at first&mdash;that
+      might be the salt fish; but after the <i>rognons 'a la brochette,</i> and
+      a bottle of champagne, he let out. I remember one thing he said: Monsieur,
+      ce que fait la fortune de la banque ce n'est pas le petit avantage qu'elle
+      tire du refait&mdash;quoique cela y est pour quelquechose&mdash;c'est la
+      te'me'rite' de ceux qui perdent, et la timidite' de ceux qui gagnent.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And,&rdquo; says Vizard, &ldquo;there is a French proverb founded on <i>experience:</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;C'est encore rouge qui perd, Et encore noir. Mais toujours blanc qui
+      gagne.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne, for the first time, looked angry and mortified; he turned his
+      back and was silent. Vizard looked at him uneasily, hesitated a moment,
+      then flung the remainder of his cigar away and seemed to rouse himself
+      body and soul. He squared his shoulders, as if he were going to box the
+      Demon of play for his friend, and he let out good sense right and left,
+      and, indeed, was almost betrayed into eloquence. &ldquo;What!&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;you,
+      who are so bright and keen and knowing in everything else, are you really
+      so blinded by egotism and credulity as to believe that you can invent any
+      method of betting at <i>rouge et noir</i> that has not been tried before
+      you were born? Do you remember the first word in La Bruy'ere's famous
+      work?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Ned, sulkily. &ldquo;Read nothing but newspapers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good lad. Saves a deal of trouble. Well, he begins 'Tout est dit'&mdash;'everything
+      has been said;' and I say that, in your business, 'Tout est fait'&mdash;'everything
+      has been done.' Every move has been tried before you existed, and the
+      result of all is that to bet against the bank, wildly or systematically,
+      is to gamble against a rock. <i>Si monumenta quoeris, circumspice.</i> Use
+      your eyes, man. Look at the Kursaal, its luxuries, its gardens, its
+      gilding, its attractions, all of them cheap, except the one that pays for
+      all; all these delights, and the rents, and the croupiers, and the
+      servants, and the income and liveries of an unprincipled prince, who would
+      otherwise be a poor but honest gentleman with one <i>bonne,</i> instead of
+      thirty blazing lackeys, all come from the gains of the bank, which are the
+      losses of the players, especially of those that have got a system.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne shot in, &ldquo;A bank was broken last week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was it? Then all it lost has returned to it, or will return to it
+      to-night; for gamblers know no day of rest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, they do. It is shut on Good-Friday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You surprise me. Only three hundred and sixty-four days in the year!
+      Brainless avarice is more reasonable than I thought. Severne, yours is a
+      very serious case. You have reduced your income, that is clear; for an
+      English gentleman does not stay years and years abroad unless he has out
+      run the constable; and I feel sure gambling has done it. You had the fever
+      from a boy. Bullington Green! 'As the twig's bent the tree's inclined.'
+      Come, come, make a stand. We are friends. Let us help one another against
+      our besetting foibles. Let us practice antique wisdom; let us 'know
+      ourselves,' and leave Homburg to-morrow, instead of Tuesday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne looked sullen, but said nothing; then Vizard gave him too hastily
+      credit for some of that sterling friendship, bordering on love, which
+      warmed his own faithful breast: under this delusion he made an
+      extraordinary effort; he used an argument which, with himself, would have
+      been irresistible. &ldquo;Look here,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I'll&mdash;won't you have a
+      cigar?&mdash;there; now I'll tell you something: I have a mania as bad as
+      yours; only mine is intermittent, thank Heaven! I'm told a million women
+      are as good, or better, than a million men. It may be so. But when I, an
+      individual, stake my heart on lovely woman, she always turns out unworthy.
+      With me, the sex avoids alternation. Therefore I rail on it wholesale. It
+      is not philosophical; but I don't do it to instruct mankind; it is to
+      soothe my spleen. Well&mdash;would you believe it?&mdash;once in every
+      three years, in spite of my experience, I am always bitten again. After my
+      lucid interval has expired, I fall in with some woman, who seems not like
+      the rest, but an angel. Then I, though I'm averse to the sex, fall an
+      easy, an immediate victim to the individual.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Love at first sight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a bit of it. If she is as beautiful as an angel, with the voice of a
+      peacock or a guinea-hen&mdash;and, luckily for me, that is a frequent
+      arrangement&mdash;she is no more to me than the fire-shovel. If she has a
+      sweet voice and pale eyes, I'm safe. Indeed, I am safe against Juno,
+      Venus, and Minerva for two years and several months after the last; but
+      when two events coincide, when my time is up, and the lovely, melodious
+      female comes, then I am lost. Before I have seen her and heard her five
+      minutes, I know my fate, and I never resist it. I never can; that is a
+      curious part of the mania. Then commences a little drama, all the acts of
+      which are stale copies; yet each time they take me by surprise, as if they
+      were new. In spite of past experience, I begin all confidence and trust:
+      by-and-by come the subtle but well-known signs of deceit; so doubt is
+      forced on me; and then I am all suspicion, and so darkly vigilant that
+      soon all is certainty; for 'les fourberies des femmes' are diabolically
+      subtle, but monotonous. They seem to vary only on the surface. One looks
+      too gentle and sweet to give any creature pain; I cherish her like a
+      tender plant; she deceives me for the coarsest fellow she can find.
+      Another comes the frank and candid dodge; she is so off-handed she shows
+      me it is not worth her while to betray. She deceives me, like the other,
+      and with as little discrimination. The next has a face of beaming
+      innocence, and a limpid eye that looks like transparent candor; she gazes
+      long and calmly in my face, as if her eye loved to dwell on me, gazes with
+      the eye of a gazelle or a young hare, and the baby lips below outlie the
+      hoariest male fox in the Old Jewry. But, to complete the delusion, all my
+      sweethearts and wives are romantic and poetical skin-deep&mdash;or they
+      would not attract me&mdash;and all turn out vulgar to the core. By their
+      lovers alone can you ever know them. By the men they can't love, and the
+      men they do love, you find these creatures that imitate sentiment so
+      divinely are hard, prosaic, vulgar little things, thinly gilt and double
+      varnished.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are much better than we are; but you don't know how to take them,&rdquo;
+       said Severne, with the calm superiority of success.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied Vizard, dryly, &ldquo;curse me if I do. Well, I did hope I had
+      outgrown my mania, as I have done the toothache; for this time I had
+      passed the fatal period, the three years. It is nearly four years now
+      since I went through the established process&mdash;as fixed beforehand as
+      the dyer's or the cotton-weaver's&mdash;adored her, trusted her blindly,
+      suspected her, watched her, detected her, left her. By-the-by, she was my
+      wife, the last; but that made no difference; she was neither better nor
+      worse than the rest, and her methods and idiotic motives of deceit
+      identical. Well, Ned, I was mistaken. Yesterday night I met my Fate once
+      more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where? In Frankfort?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No: at Homburg; at the opera. You must give me your word not to tell a
+      soul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I pledge you my word of honor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, the lady who sung the part of Siebel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Siebel?&rdquo; muttered Severne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Vizard, dejectedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne fixed his eyes on his friend with a strange expression of
+      confusion and curiosity, as if he could not take it all in. But he said
+      nothing, only looked very hard all the time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard burst out, &ldquo;'O miserae hominum mentes, O pectora caeca!' There I
+      sat, in the stalls, a happy man comparatively, because my heart, though
+      full of scars, was at peace, and my reason, after periodical abdications,
+      had resumed its throne, for good; so I, weak mortal, fancied. Siebel
+      appeared; tall, easy, dignified, and walking like a wave; modest, fair,
+      noble, great, dreamy, and, above all, divinely sad; the soul of womanhood
+      and music poured from her honey lips; she conquered all my senses: I felt
+      something like a bolt of ice run down my back. I ought to have jumped up
+      and fled the theater. I wish I had. But I never do. I am incurable. The
+      charm deepened; and when she had sung 'Le Parlate d'Amor' as no mortal
+      ever sung and looked it, she left the stage and carried my heart and soul
+      away with her. What chance had I? Here shone all the beauties that adorn
+      the body, all the virtues and graces that embellish the soul; they were
+      wedded to poetry and ravishing music, and gave and took enchantment. I saw
+      my paragon glide away, like a goddess, past the scenery, and I did not see
+      her meet her lover at the next step&mdash;a fellow with a wash-leather
+      face, greasy locks in a sausage roll, and his hair shaved off his forehead&mdash;and
+      snatch a pot of porter from his hands, and drain it to the dregs, and say,
+      'It is all right, Harry: <i>that</i> fetched 'em.' But I know, by
+      experience, she did; so <i>sauve qui peut.</i> Dear friend and
+      fellow-lunatic, for my sake and yours, leave Frankfort with me to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne hung his head, and thought hard. Here was a new and wonderful
+      turn. He felt all manner of strange things&mdash;a pang of jealousy, for
+      one. He felt that, on every account, it would be wise to go, and, indeed,
+      dangerous to stay. But a mania is a mania, and so he could not. &ldquo;Look
+      here, old fellow,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;if the opera were on to-morrow, I would leave
+      my three hundred behind me and sacrifice myself to you, sooner than expose
+      you to the fascinations of so captivating a woman as Ina Klosking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ina Klosking? Is that her name? How do <i>you</i> know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I&mdash;fancy I heard so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, she was not announced. Ina Klosking! It is a sweet name;&rdquo; and he
+      sighed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you are quite safe from her for one day,&rdquo; continued Severne, &ldquo;so you
+      must be reasonable. I will go with you, Tuesday, as early as you like; but
+      do be a good fellow, and let me have the five hundred, to try my system
+      with to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard looked sad, and made no reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne got impatient. &ldquo;Why, what is it to a rich fellow like you? If I
+      had twelve thousand acres in a ring fence, no friend would ask me twice
+      for such a trifling sum.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard, for the first time, wore a supercilious smile at being so
+      misunderstood, and did not deign a reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne went on mistaking his man: &ldquo;I can give you bills for the money,
+      and for the three hundred you did lend me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard did not receive this as expected. &ldquo;Bills?&rdquo; said he, gravely. &ldquo;What,
+      do you do that sort of thing as well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not, pray? So long as I'm the holder, not the drawer, nor the
+      acceptor. Besides, they are not accommodation bills, but good commercial
+      paper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a merchant, then; are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; in a small way. If you will allow me, I will explain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He did so; and, to save comments, yet enable the reader to appreciate his
+      explanation, the true part of it is printed in italics, the mendacious
+      portion in ordinary type.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;My estate in Huntingdonshire is not very large; and there are
+      mortgages on it,</i> for the benefit of other members of my family. I was
+      always desirous to pay off these mortgages; and took the best advice I
+      could. <i>I have got an uncle:</i> he lives in the city. He put me on to a
+      good thing. I bought a share in a trading vessel; she makes short trips,
+      and turns her cargo often. She will take out paper to America, and bring
+      back raw cotton: she will land that at Liverpool, and ship English
+      hardware and cotton fabrics for the Mediterranean and Greece, and bring
+      back currants from Zante and lemons from Portugal. She goes for the nimble
+      shilling. Well, you know ships wear out: <i>and if you varnish them
+      rotten, and insure them high, and they go to glory, Mr. Plimsoll is down
+      on you like a hammer.</i> So, when she had paid my purchase-money three
+      times over, some fellows in the city made an offer for <i>The Rover</i>&mdash;that
+      was her name. My share came to twelve hundred, and my uncle said I was to
+      take it. <i>Now I always feel bound by what he decides.</i> They gave me
+      four bills, for four hundred, three hundred, three hundred, and two
+      hundred. The four hundred was paid at maturity. <i>The others are not due
+      yet.</i> I have only to send them to London, and I can get the money back
+      by Thursday: but you want me to start on Tuesday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is enough,&rdquo; said Vizard, wearily, &ldquo;I will be your banker, and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a good fellow!&rdquo; said Severne warmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; I am a weak fellow, and an injudicious one. But it is the old
+      story: when a friend asks you what he thinks a favor, the right thing is
+      to grant it at once. He doesn't want your advice; he wants the one thing
+      he asks for. There, get me the bills, and I'll draw a check on Muller:
+      Herries advised him by Saturday's post; so we can draw on Monday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, old man,&rdquo; said Severne, and went away briskly for the bills.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he got from the balcony into the room, his steps flagged a little; it
+      struck him that ink takes time to dry, and more time to darken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As <i>The Rover,</i> with her nimble cargoes, was first cousin to <i>The
+      Flying Dutchman,</i> with his crew of ghosts, so the bills received by
+      Severne, as purchase-money for his ship, necessarily partook of that
+      ship's aerial character. Indeed they existed, as the schoolmen used to
+      say, in <i>posse,</i> but not in <i>esse.</i> To be less pedantic and more
+      exact, they existed as slips of blank paper, with a Government stamp. To
+      give them a mercantile character for a time&mdash;viz., until presented
+      for payment&mdash;they must be drawn by an imaginary ship-owner or a
+      visionary merchant, and indorsed by at least one shadow, and a man of
+      straw.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man of straw sat down to inscribe self and shadows, and became a
+      dishonest writer of fiction; for the art he now commenced appears to fall
+      short of forgery proper, but to be still more distinct from justifiable
+      fiction. The ingenious Mr. De Foe's certificate by an aeial justice of the
+      peace to the truth of his ghostly narrative comes nearest to it, in my
+      poor reading.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Qualms he had, but not deep. If the bills were drawn by Imagination,
+      accepted by Fancy, and indorsed by Impudence, what did it matter to Ned
+      Straw, since his system would enable him to redeem them at maturity? His
+      only real concern was to conceal their recent origin. So he wrote them
+      with a broad-nibbed pen, that they might be the blacker, and set them to
+      dry in the sun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He then proceeded to a change of toilet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While thus employed, there was a sharp tap at his door and Vizard's voice
+      outside. Severne started with terror, snapped up the three bills with the
+      dexterity of a conjurer&mdash;the handle turned&mdash;he shoved them into
+      a drawer&mdash;Vizard came in&mdash;he shut the drawer, and panted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard had followed the custom of Oxonians among themselves, which is to
+      knock, and then come in, unless forbidden.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said he, cheerfully, &ldquo;those bills. I'm in a hurry to cash them
+      now, and end the only difference we have ever had, old fellow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The blood left Severne's cheek and lips for a moment, and he thought
+      swiftly and hard. The blood returned, along with his ready wit. &ldquo;How good
+      you are!&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;but no. It is Sunday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sunday!&rdquo; ejaculated Vizard. &ldquo;What is that to you, a fellow who has been
+      years abroad?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't help it,&rdquo; said Severne, apologetically. &ldquo;I am superstitious&mdash;don't
+      like to do business on a Sunday. I would not even shunt at the tables on a
+      Sunday&mdash;I don't think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, you are not quite sure of that. There <i>is</i> a limit to your
+      superstition! Well, will you listen to a story on a Sunday?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rather!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, once on a time there was a Scotch farmer who had a bonny cow; and
+      another farmer coveted her honestly. One Sunday they went home together
+      from kirk and there was the cow grazing. Farmer Two stopped, eyed her, and
+      said to Farmer One, 'Gien it were Monday, as it is the Sabba' day, what
+      would ye tak' for your coow?' The other said the price would be nine
+      pounds, <i>if it were Monday.</i> And so they kept the Sabbath; and the
+      cow changed hands, though, to the naked eye, she grazed on <i>in situ.</i>
+      Our negotiation is just as complete. So what does it matter whether the
+      actual exchange of bills and cash takes place to-day or to-morrow?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you really mean to say it does not matter to you?&rdquo; asked Severne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not one straw.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, as it does not matter to you, and does to me, give me my foolish
+      way, like a dear good fellow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, that is smart,&rdquo; said Vizard&mdash;&ldquo;very smart;&rdquo; then, with a look of
+      parental admiration, &ldquo;he gets his own way in everything. He <i>will</i>
+      have your money&mdash;he <i>won't</i> have your money. I wonder whether he
+      <i>will</i> consent to walk those girls out, and disburden me of their too
+      profitable discourse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I will, with pleasure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, they are at luncheon&mdash;with their bonnets on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will join them in five minutes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After luncheon, Miss Vizard, Miss Dover, and Mr. Severne started for a
+      stroll.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Maitland suggested that Vizard should accompany them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Couldn't think of deserting you,&rdquo; said he dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young ladies giggled, because these two rarely opened their mouths to
+      agree, one being a professed woman-hater, and the other a man-hater, in
+      words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Says Misander, in a sourish way, &ldquo;Since you value my conversation so,
+      perhaps you will be good enough not to smoke for the next ten minutes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Misogyn consented, but sighed. That sigh went unpitied, and the lady
+      wasted no time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you see what is going on between your sister and that young man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; a little flirtation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A great deal more than that. I caught them, in this very room, making
+      love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You alarm me,&rdquo; said Vizard, with marked tranquillity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I saw him&mdash;kiss&mdash;her&mdash;hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You relieve me,&rdquo; said Vizard, as calmly as he had been alarmed. &ldquo;There's
+      no harm in that. I've kissed the queen's hand, and the nation did not rise
+      upon me. However, I object to it. The superior sex should not play the
+      spaniel. I will tell him to drop that. But, permit me to say, all this is
+      in your department, not mine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what can I do against three of them, unless you support me? There you
+      have let them go out together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Together with Fanny Dover, you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; and if Fanny had any designs on him, Zoe would be safe&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And poor Ned torn in two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But Fanny, I am grieved to say, seems inclined to assist this young man
+      with Zoe; that is, because it does not matter to her. She has other views&mdash;serious
+      ones.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Serious! What? A nunnery? Then I pity my lady abbess.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her views are plain enough to anybody but you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are they? Then make me as wise as my neighbors.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, she means to marry <i>you.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! Oh, come!&mdash;that is too good a joke!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is sober earnest. Ask Zoe&mdash;ask your friend, Mr. Severne&mdash;ask
+      the chambermaids&mdash;ask any creature with an eye in its head. Oh, the
+      blindness of you men!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Misogyn was struck dumb. When he recovered, it was to repine at the
+      lot of man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Even my own familiar cousin&mdash;once removed&mdash;in whom I trusted! I
+      depute you to inform her that I think her <i>adorable,</i> and that
+      matrimony is no longer a habit of mine. Set her on to poor Severne; he is
+      a ladies' man, and 'the more the merrier' is his creed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Such a girl as Fanny is not to be diverted from a purpose of that sort.
+      Besides, she has too much sense to plunge into the Severne and&mdash;pauperism!
+      She is bent on a rich husband, not a needy adventurer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madam, in my friend's name, I thank you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very welcome, sir&mdash;it is only the truth.&rdquo; Then, with a swift
+      return to her original topic: &ldquo;No; I know perfectly well what Fanny Dover
+      will do this afternoon. She sketches.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is too true,&rdquo; said Vizard dolefully: &ldquo;showed me a ship in full sail,
+      and I praised it <i>in my way.</i> I said, 'That rock is rather well
+      done.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, she will be seized with a desire to sketch. She will sit down
+      apart, and say, 'Please don't watch me&mdash;it makes me nervous.' The
+      other two will take the hint and make love a good way off; and Zoe will go
+      greater lengths, with another woman in sight&mdash;but only just in sight,
+      and slyly encouraging her&mdash;than if she were quite alone with her <i>mauvais
+      sujet.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard was pleased with the old lady. &ldquo;This is sagacious,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;and
+      shows an eye for detail. I recognize in your picture the foxy sex. But, at
+      this moment, who can foretell which way the wind will blow? You are not
+      aware, perhaps, that Zoe and Fanny have had a quarrel. They don't speak.
+      Now, in women, you know, vices are controlled by vices&mdash;see Pope. The
+      conspiracy you dread will be averted by the other faults of their
+      character, their jealousy and their petulant tempers. Take my word for it,
+      they are sparring at this moment; and that poor, silly Severne meditating
+      and moderating, and getting scratched on both sides for trying to be
+      just.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment the door opened, and Fanny Dover glittered on the threshold
+      in Cambridge blue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There,&rdquo; said Vizard; &ldquo;did not I tell you? They are come home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only me,&rdquo; said Fanny gayly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are the others?&rdquo; inquired Miss Maitland sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not far off&mdash;only by the riverside.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you left those two alone!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, don't be cross, aunt,&rdquo; cried Fanny, and limped up to her. &ldquo;These new
+      boots are so tight that I really couldn't bear them any longer. I believe
+      I shall be lame, as it is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You ought to be ashamed of yourself. What will the people say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La! aunt, it is abroad. One does what one likes&mdash;out of England.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here's a code of morals!&rdquo; said Vizard, who must have his slap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense,&rdquo; said Miss Maitland: &ldquo;she will be sure to meet somebody. All
+      England is on the Rhine at this time of the year; and, whether or no, is
+      it for you to expose that child to familiarity with a person nobody knows,
+      nor his family either? You are twenty-five years old; you know the world;
+      you have as poor an opinion of the man as I have, or you would have set
+      your own cap at him&mdash;you know you would&mdash;and you have let out
+      things to me when you were off your guard. Fanny Dover, you are behaving
+      wickedly; you are a false friend to that poor girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon this, lo! the pert Fanny, hitherto so ready with her answers, began
+      to cry bitterly. The words really pricked her conscience, and to be
+      scolded is one thing, to be severely and solemnly reproached is another;
+      and before a man!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The official woman-hater was melted in a moment by the saucy girl's tears.
+      &ldquo;There&mdash;there,&rdquo; said he, kindly, &ldquo;have a little mercy. Hang it all!
+      Don't make a mountain of a mole-hill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The official man-hater never moved a muscle. &ldquo;It is no use her crying to
+      <i>me:</i> she must give me a <i>proof</i> she is sorry. Fanny, if you are
+      a respectable girl, and have any idea of being my heir, go you this moment
+      and bring them home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, aunt,&rdquo; said Fanny, eagerly; and went off with wonderful alacrity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a very long apartment, full forty feet; and while Fanny bustled
+      down it, Miss Maitland extended a skinny finger, like one of Macbeth's
+      witches, and directed Vizard's eye to the receding figure so pointedly
+      that he put up his spyglass the better to see the phenomenon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Fanny skipped out and closed the door, Miss Maitland turned to Vizard,
+      with lean finger still pointing after Fanny, and uttered a monosyllable:
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;LAME!&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      Vizard burst out laughing. &ldquo;La fourbe!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Miss Maitland, accept my
+      compliments; you possess the key to a sex no fellow can unlock. And, now I
+      have found an interpreter, I begin to be interested in this little comedy.
+      The first act is just over. There will be half an hour's wait till the
+      simulatrix of infirmity comes running back with the pilgrims of the Rhine.
+      Are they 'the pilgrims of the Rhine' or 'the pilgrims of Love?' Time will
+      show. Play to recommence with a verbal encounter; you will be one against
+      three; for all that, I don't envy the greater number.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Three to one? No. Surely you will be on the right side for once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you see, I am the audience. We can't be all <i>dramatis personae,</i>
+      and no spectator. During the wait, I wonder whether the audience, having
+      nothing better to do, may be permitted to smoke a cigar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So long a lucid interval is irksome, of course. Well, the balcony is your
+      smoking-room. You will see them coming; please tap at my door the moment
+      you do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Half an hour elapsed, an hour, and the personages required to continue the
+      comedy did not return.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard, having nothing better to do, fell to thinking of Ina Klosking, and
+      that was not good for him. Solitude and <i>ennui</i> fed his mania, and at
+      last it took the form of action. He rang, and ordered up his man Harris, a
+      close, discreet personage, and directed him to go over to Homburg, and
+      bring back all the information he could about the new singer; her address
+      in Homburg, married or single, prude or coquette. Should information be
+      withheld, Harris was to fee the porter at the opera-house, the waiter at
+      her hotel, and all the human commodities that knew anything about her.
+      Having dismissed Harris, he lighted his seventh cigar, and said to
+      himself, &ldquo;It is all Ned Severne's fault. I wanted to leave for England
+      to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The day had been overcast for some time and now a few big drops fell, by
+      way of warning. Then it turned cool: then came a light drizzling rain,
+      and, in the middle of this, Fanny Dover appeared, almost flying home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard went and tapped at Miss Maitland's door. She came out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here's Miss Dover coming, but she is alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The next moment Fanny bounced into the room, and started a little at the
+      picture of the pair ready to receive her. She did not wait to be taken to
+      task, but proceeded to avert censure by volubility and self-praise. &ldquo;Aunt,
+      I went down to the river, where I left them, and looked all along it, and
+      they were not in sight. Then I went to the cathedral, because that seemed
+      the next likeliest place. Oh, I have had such a race!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you come back before you had found them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt, it was going to rain; and it is raining now, hard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;She</i> does not mind that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zoe? Oh, she has got nothing on!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bless me!&rdquo; cried Vizard. &ldquo;Godiva <i>rediviva.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Harrington, don't! Of course, I mean nothing to spoil; only her
+      purple alpaca, and that is two years old. But my blue silk, I can't afford
+      to ruin <i>it.</i> Nobody would give me another, <i>I</i> know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a heartless world!&rdquo; said Vizard dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is past a jest, the whole thing,&rdquo; objected Miss Maitland; &ldquo;and, now we
+      are together, please tell me, if you can, either of you, who is this man?
+      What are his means? I know 'The Peerage,' 'The Baronetage,' and 'The
+      Landed Gentry,' but not Severne. That is a river, not a family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said Vizard, &ldquo;family names taken from rivers are never <i>parvenues.</i>
+      But we can't all be down in Burke. Ned is of a good stock, the old English
+      yeoman, the country's pride.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yeoman!&rdquo; said the Maitland, with sovereign contempt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard resisted. &ldquo;Is this the place to sneer at an English yeoman, where
+      you see an unprincely prince living by a gambling-table? What says the old
+      stave?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'A German prince, a marquis of France, And a laird o' the North Countrie;
+      A yeoman o' Kent, with his yearly rent, Would ding 'em out, all three.&rdquo;'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said Misander, with a good deal of malicious, intent, &ldquo;you are
+      quite sure your yeoman is not a&mdash;<i>pauper&mdash;</i>an <i>adventurer&mdash;&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Positive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And a <i>gambler.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I am not at all sure of that. But nobody is all-wise. I am not, for
+      one. He is a fine fellow; as good as gold; as true as steel. Always
+      polite, always genial; and never speaks ill of any of you behind your
+      backs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Maitland bridled at that. &ldquo;What I have said is not out of dislike to
+      the young man. I am warning a brother to take a little more care of his
+      sister, that is all. However, after your sneer, I shall say no more behind
+      Mr. Severne's back, but to his face&mdash;that is, if we ever see his face
+      again, or Zoe's either.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, aunt!&rdquo; said Fanny, reproachfully. &ldquo;It is only the rain. La! poor
+      things, they will be wet to the skin. Just see how it is pouring!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That it is: and let me tell you there is nothing so dangerous as a <i>te'te-'a-te'te</i>
+      in the rain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A thunder-storm is worse, aunt,&rdquo; said Fanny, eagerly; &ldquo;because then she
+      is frightened to death, and clings to him&mdash;<i>if he is nice.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Having galloped into this revelation, through speaking first and thinking
+      afterward, Fanny pulled up short the moment the words were out, and turned
+      red, and looked askant, under her pale lashes at Vizard. Observing several
+      twinkles in his eyes, she got up hastily and said she really must go and
+      dry her gown.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Miss Maitland; &ldquo;come into my room, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny complied, with rather a rueful face, not doubting that the public
+      &ldquo;dear&rdquo; was to get it rather hot in private.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her uneasiness was not lessened when the old maid said to her, grimly,
+      &ldquo;Now, sit you down there, and never mind your dress.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      However, it came rather mildly, after all. &ldquo;Fanny, you are not a bad girl,
+      and you have shown you were sorry; so I am not going to be hard on you:
+      only you must be a good girl now, and help me to undo the mischief, and
+      then I will forgive you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt,&rdquo; said Fanny, piteously, &ldquo;I am older than she is, and I know I have
+      done rather wrong, and I won't do it any more; but pray, pray, don't ask
+      me to be unkind to her to-day; it is brooch-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Maitland only stared at this obscure announcement: so Fanny had to
+      explain that Zoe and she had tiffed, and made it up, and Zoe had given her
+      a brooch. Hereupon she went for it, and both ladies forgot the topic they
+      were on, and every other, to examine the brooch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt,&rdquo; says Fanny, handling the brooch, and eyeing it, &ldquo;you were a poor
+      girl, like me, before grandpapa left you the money, and you know it is
+      just as well to have a tiff now and then with a rich one, because, when
+      you kiss and make it up, you always get some reconciliation-thing or
+      other.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Maitland dived into the past and nodded approval.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus encouraged, Fanny proceeded to more modern rules. She let Miss
+      Maitland know it was always understood at her school that on these
+      occasions of tiff, reconciliation, and present, the girl who received the
+      present was to side in everything with the girl who gave it, for that one
+      day. &ldquo;That is the real reason I put on my tight boots&mdash;to earn my
+      brooch. Isn't it a duck?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;Are</i> they tight, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Awfully. See&mdash;new on to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you could shake off your lameness in a moment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La, aunt, you know one can fight <i>with</i> that sort of thing, or fight
+      <i>against</i> it. It is like colds, and headaches, and fevers, and all
+      that. You are in bed, too ill to see anybody you don't much care for.
+      Night comes, and then you jump up and dress, and go to a ball, and leave
+      your cold and your fever behind you, because the ball won't wait till you
+      are well, and the bores will. So don't ask me to be unkind to Zoe,
+      brooch-day,&rdquo; said Fanny, skipping back to her first position with singular
+      pertinacity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Fanny,&rdquo; said Miss Maitland, &ldquo;who wants you to be unkind to her? But
+      you must and shall promise me not to lend her any more downright
+      encouragement, and to watch the man well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I promise that faithfully,&rdquo; said Fanny&mdash;an adroit concession, since
+      she had been watching him like a cat a mouse for many days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you are a good girl; and, to reward you, I will tell you in
+      confidence all the strange stories I have discovered today.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, do, aunt!&rdquo; cried Fanny; and now her eyes began to sparkle with
+      curiosity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Maitland then bid her observe that the bedroom window was not a
+      French casement, but a double-sash window&mdash;closed at present because
+      of the rain; but it had been wide open at the top all the time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Those two were smoking, and talking secrets; and, child,&rdquo; said the old
+      lady, very impressively, &ldquo;if you&mdash;want&mdash;to&mdash;know&mdash;what
+      gentlemen really are, you must be out of sight, and listen to them,
+      smoking. When I was a girl, the gentlemen came out in their true colors
+      over their wine. Now they are as close as wax, drinking; and even when
+      they are tipsy they keep their secrets. But once let them get by
+      themselves and smoke, the very air is soon filled with scandalous secrets
+      none of the ladies in the house ever dreamed of. Their real characters,
+      their true histories, and their genuine sentiments, are locked up like
+      that genius in 'The Arabian Nights,' and come out in smoke as he did.&rdquo; The
+      old lady chuckled at her own wit, and the young one laughed to humor her.
+      &ldquo;Well, my dear, those two smoked, and revealed themselves&mdash;their real
+      selves; and I listened and heard every word on the top of those drawers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny looked at the drawers. They were high.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La, aunt! how ever did you get up there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By a chair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, fancy you perched up there, listening, at your age!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You need not keep throwing my age in my teeth. I am not so very old. Only
+      I don't paint and whiten and wear false hair. There are plenty of
+      coquettes about, ever so much older than I am. I have a great mind not to
+      tell you; and then much you will ever know about either of these men!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, aunt, don't be cruel! I am dying to hear it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As aunt was equally dying to tell it, she passed over the skit upon her
+      age, though she did not forget nor forgive it; and repeated the whole
+      conversation of Vizard and Severne with rare fidelity; but as I abhor what
+      the evangelist calls &ldquo;battology,&rdquo; and Shakespeare &ldquo;damnable iteration,&rdquo; I
+      must draw upon the intelligence of the reader (if any), and he must be
+      pleased to imagine the whole dialogue of those two unguarded smokers
+      repeated to Fanny, and interrupted, commented on at every salient point,
+      scrutinized, sifted, dissected, and taken to pieces by two keen women,
+      sharp by nature, and sharper now by collision of their heads. No candor,
+      no tolerance, no allowance for human weakness, blunted the scalpel in
+      their dexterous hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh, Gossip! delight of ordinary souls, and more delightful still when you
+      furnish food for detraction!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To Fanny, in particular, it was exciting, ravishing, and the time flew by
+      so unheeded that presently there came a sharp knock and an impatient voice
+      cried, &ldquo;Chatter! chatter! chatter! How long are we to be kept waiting for
+      dinner, all of us?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      AT the very commencement of the confabulation, so barbarously interrupted
+      before it had lasted two hours and a half, the Misogyn rang the bell, and
+      asked for Rosa, Zoe's maid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She came, and he ordered her to have up a basket of wood, and light a
+      roaring fire in her mistress's room, and put out garments to air. He also
+      inquired the number of Zoe's bedroom. The girl said it was &ldquo;No. 74.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Misogyn waited half an hour, and then visited &ldquo;No. 74.&rdquo; He found the
+      fire burned down to one log, and some things airing at the fire, as
+      domestics air their employers' things, but not their own, you may be sure.
+      There was a chemise carefully folded into the smallest possible compass,
+      and doubled over a horse at a good distance from the cold fire. There were
+      other garments and supplementaries, all treated in the same way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Misogyn looked, and remarked as follows, &ldquo;Idiots! at everything but
+      taking in the men.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Having relieved his spleen with this courteous and comprehensive
+      observation, he piled log upon log till the fire was half up the chimney.
+      Then he got all the chairs and made a semi-circle, and spread out the
+      various garments to the genial heat; and so close that, had a spark flown,
+      they would have been warmed with a vengeance, and the superiority of the
+      male intellect demonstrated. This done, he retired, with a guilty air; for
+      he did not want to be caught meddling in such frivolities by Miss Dover or
+      Miss Maitland. However, he was quite safe; those superior spirits were
+      wholly occupied with the loftier things of the mind, especially the
+      characters of their neighbors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I must now go for these truants that are giving everybody so much trouble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Fanny fell lame and said she was very sorry, but she must go home and
+      change her boots, Zoe was for going home too. But Fanny, doubting her
+      sincerity, was peremptory, and said they had only to stroll slowly on, and
+      then turn; she should meet them coming back. Zoe colored high, suspecting
+      they had seen the last of this ingenious young lady.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a good girl!&rdquo; cried Severne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid she is a very naughty girl,&rdquo; said Zoe, faintly; and the first
+      effect of Fanny's retreat was to make her a great deal more reserved and
+      less sprightly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne observed, and understood, and saw he must give her time. He was so
+      respectful, as well as tender, that, by degrees, she came out again, and
+      beamed with youth and happiness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They strolled very slowly by the fair river, and the pretty little
+      nothings they said to each other began to be mere vehicles for those soft
+      tones and looks, in which love is made, far more than by the words
+      themselves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When they started on this walk, Severne had no distinct nor serious views
+      on Zoe. But he had been playing with fire for some time, and so now he got
+      well burned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Walking slowly by his side, and conscious of being wooed, whatever the
+      words might be, Zoe was lovelier than ever. Those lowered lashes, that
+      mantling cheek, those soft, tender murmurs, told him he was dear, and
+      thrilled his heart, though a cold one compared with hers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was in love; as much as he could be, and more than he had ever been
+      before. He never even asked himself whether permanent happiness was likely
+      to spring from this love: he was self-indulgent, reckless, and in love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at her, wished he could recall his whole life, and sighed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you sigh?&rdquo; said she, gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know. Yes, I do. Because I am not happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not happy?&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;You ought to be; and I am sure you deserve to be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know that. However, I think I shall be happier in a few minutes,
+      or else very unhappy indeed. That depends on you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On me, Mr. Severne?&rdquo; and she blushed crimson, and her bosom began to
+      heave. His words led her to expect a declaration and a proposal of
+      marriage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He saw her mistake; and her emotion spoke so plainly and sweetly, and
+      tried him so, that it cost him a great effort not to clasp her in his
+      arms. But that was not his cue at present. He lowered his eyes, to give
+      her time, and said, sadly, &ldquo;I cannot help seeing that, somehow, there is
+      suspicion in the air about me. Miss Maitland puts questions, and drops
+      hints. Miss Dover watches me like a lynx. Even you gave me a hint the
+      other day that I never talk to you about my relations, and my past life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray do not confound me with other people,&rdquo; said Zoe proudly. &ldquo;If I am
+      curious, it is because I know you must have done many good things and
+      clever things; but you have too little vanity, or too much pride, to tell
+      them even to one who&mdash;esteems you, and could appreciate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know you are as generous and noble as most people are narrow-minded,&rdquo;
+       said Severne, enthusiastically; &ldquo;and I have determined to tell you all
+      about myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe's cheeks beamed with gratified pride and her eyes sparkled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only, as I would not tell it to anybody but you, I must stipulate that
+      you will receive it in sacred confidence, and not repeat it to a living
+      soul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not even to my brother, who loves you so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not even to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This alarmed the instinctive delicacy and modesty of a truly virgin soul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not experienced,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;But I feel I ought not to yield to
+      curiosity and hear from you anything I am forbidden to tell my brother.
+      You might as well say I must not tell my mother; for dear Harrington is
+      all the mother I have; and I am sure he is a true friend to you&rdquo; (this
+      last a little reproachfully).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But for Severne's habitual self-command, he would have treated this
+      delicacy as ridiculous prudery; but he was equal to greater difficulties.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are right, by instinct, in everything. Well, then, I shall tell you,
+      and you shall see at once whether it ought to be repeated, or to remain a
+      sacred deposit between me and the only creature I have the courage to tell
+      it to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe lowered her eyes, and marked the sand with her parasol. She was a
+      little puzzled now, and half conscious that, somehow, he was tying her to
+      secrecy with silk instead of rope; but she never suspected the deliberate
+      art and dexterity with which it was done.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne then made the revelation which he had been preparing for a day or
+      two past; and, to avoid eternal comments by the author, I must once more
+      call in the artful aid of the printers. The true part of Mr. Severne's
+      revelation is in italics; the false in ordinary type.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;When my father died, I inherited an estate in Huntingdonshire. It was
+      not so large as Vizard's, but it was clear. Not a mortgage nor incumbrance
+      on it. I had a younger brother;</i> a fellow with charming manners, and
+      very accomplished. These were his ruin: he got into high society in
+      London; <i>but high society is not always good society.</i> He became
+      connected with a fast lot, some of the young nobility. Of course he could
+      not vie with them. He got deeply in debt. Not but what they were in debt
+      too, every one of them. He used to send to me for money oftener than I
+      liked; but I never suspected the rate he was going at. I was anxious, too,
+      about him; but I said to myself he was just sowing his wild oats, like
+      other fellows. Well, it went on, until&mdash;to his misfortune and mine&mdash;he
+      got entangled in some disgraceful transactions; the general features are
+      known to all the world. I dare say you have heard of one or two young
+      noblemen who committed forgeries on their relations and friends some years
+      ago. <i>One of them, the son of an earl, took his sister's whole fortune
+      out of her bank, with a single forged check. I believe the sum total of
+      his forgeries was over one hundred thousand pounds. His father could not
+      find half the money. A number of the nobility had to combine to repurchase
+      the documents; many of them were in the hands of the Jews; and I believe a
+      composition was effected, with the help of a very powerful barrister, an
+      M. P. He went out of his line on this occasion, and mediated between the
+      parties.</i> What will you think when I tell you that my brother, the son
+      of my father and my mother, was one of these forgers&mdash;a criminal?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My poor friend!&rdquo; cried Zoe, clasping her innocent hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was a thunder-clap. I had a great mind to wash my hands of it, and let
+      him go to prison. But how could I? The struggle ended in my doing like the
+      rest. Only poor, I had no noble kinsmen with long purses to help me, and
+      no solicitor-general to mediate <i>sub rosa.</i> The total amount would
+      have swamped my family acres. I got them down to sixty per cent, and that
+      only crippled my estate forever. As for my brother, he fell on his knees
+      to me. But I could not forgive him. <i>He left the country with a hundred
+      pounds</i> I gave him. <i>He is in Canada; and only known there as a most
+      respectable farmer.</i> He talks of paying me back. That I shall believe
+      when I see it. All I know for certain is that his crime has mortgaged my
+      estate, and left me poor&mdash;and suspected.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While Severne related this, there passed a somewhat notable thing in the
+      world of mind. The inventor of this history did not understand it; the
+      hearer did, and accompanied it with innocent sympathetic sighs. Her
+      imagination, more powerful and precise than the inventor's, pictured the
+      horror of the high-minded brother, his agony, his shame, his respect for
+      law and honesty, his pity for his own flesh and blood, his struggle, and
+      the final triumph of fraternal affection. Every line of the figment was
+      alive to her, and she <i>realized</i> the tale. Severne only repeated it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the last touch of his cold art, the warm-hearted girl could contain no
+      longer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, poor Mr. Severne!&rdquo; she cried; &ldquo;poor Mr. Severne!&rdquo; And the tears ran
+      down her cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at her first with a little astonishment&mdash;fancy taking his
+      little narrative to heart like that&mdash;then with compunction, and then
+      with a momentary horror at himself, and terror at the impassable gulf
+      fixed between them, by her rare goodness and his depravity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then for a moment he felt, and felt all manner of things at once. &ldquo;Oh,
+      don't cry,&rdquo; he blurted out, and began to blubber himself at having made
+      her cry at all, and so unfairly. It was his lucky hour; this hysterical
+      effusion, undignified by a single grain of active contrition, or even
+      penitent resolve, told in his favor. They mingled their tears; and hearts
+      cannot hold aloof when tears come together. Yes, they mingled their tears,
+      and the crocodile tears were the male's, if you please, and the woman's
+      tears were pure holy drops, that angels might have gathered and carried
+      them to God for pearls of the human soul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After they had cried together over the cool figment, Zoe said: &ldquo;I do not
+      repent my curiosity now. You did well to tell me. Oh, no, you were right,
+      and I will never tell anybody. People are narrow-minded. They shall never
+      cast your brother's crime in your teeth, nor your own losses I esteem you
+      for&mdash;oh, so much more than ever! I wonder you could tell me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You would not wonder if you knew how superior you are to all the world:
+      how noble, how generous, and how I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Severne, it is going to rain! We must get home as fast as ever we
+      can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They turned, and Zoe, with true virgin coyness, and elastic limbs, made
+      the coming rain an excuse for such swift walking that Severne could not
+      make tender love to her. To be sure, Apollo ran after Daphne, with his
+      little proposals; but, I take it, he ran mute&mdash;till he found he
+      couldn't catch her. Indeed, it was as much as Severne could do to keep up
+      with her &ldquo;fair heel and toe.&rdquo; But I ascribe this to her not wearing high
+      heels ever since Fanny told her she was just a little too tall, and she
+      was novice enough to believe her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She would not stop for the drizzle; but at last it came down with such a
+      vengeance that she was persuaded to leave the path and run for a
+      cattle-shed at some distance. Here she and Severne were imprisoned.
+      Luckily for them &ldquo;the kye had not come hame,&rdquo; and the shed was empty. They
+      got into the farthest corner of it; for it was all open toward the river;
+      and the rain pattered on the roof as if it would break it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus driven together, was it wonderful that soon her hand was in his, and
+      that, as they purred together, and murmured soft nothings, more than once
+      she was surprised into returning the soft pressure which he gave it so
+      often?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The plump declaration she had fled from, and now seemed deliciously
+      resigned to, did not actually come. But he did what she valued more, he
+      resumed his confidences: told her he had vices; was fond of gambling.
+      Excused it on the score of his loss by his brother; said he hoped soon to
+      hear good news from Canada; didn't despair; was happy now, in spite of
+      all; had been happy ever since he had met <i>her.</i> What declaration was
+      needed? The understanding was complete. Neither doubted the other's love;
+      and Zoe would have thought herself a faithless, wicked girl, if, after
+      this, she had gone and accepted any other man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But presently she had a misgiving, and looked at her watch. Yes, it wanted
+      but one hour to dinner. Now, her brother was rather a Tartar about
+      punctuality at dinner. She felt she was already in danger of censure for
+      her long <i>te'te-'a-te'te</i> with Severne, though the rain was the
+      culprit. She could not afford to draw every eye upon her by being late for
+      dinner along with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She told Severne they must go home now, rain or no rain, and she walked
+      resolutely out into the weather.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne did not like it at all, but he was wise enough to deplore it only
+      on her account; and indeed her light alpaca was soon drenched, and began
+      to cling to her. But the spirited girl only laughed at his condolences, as
+      she hurried on. &ldquo;Why, it is only warm water,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;this is no more
+      than a bath in the summer sea. Bathing is getting wet through in blue
+      flannel. Well, I am bathing in blue alpaca.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;But it will ruin your dress.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dress! Why, it is as old as the hills. When I get home I'll give it to
+      Rosa, ready washed&mdash;ha-ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The rain pelted and poured, and long before they reached the inn, Zoe's
+      dress had become an external cuticle, an alpaca skin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But innocence is sometimes very bold. She did not care a bit; and, to tell
+      the truth, she had little need to care. Beauty so positive as hers is
+      indomitable. The petty accidents that are the terrors of homely charms
+      seem to enhance Queen Beauty. Disheveled hair adorns it: close bound hair
+      adorns it. Simplicity adorns it. Diamonds adorn it. Everything seems to
+      adorn it, because, the truth is, it adorns everything. And so Zoe,
+      drenched with rain, and her dress a bathing-gown, was only a Greek goddess
+      tinted blue, her bust and shoulders and her molded figure covered, yet
+      revealed. What was she to an artist's eye? Just the Townly Venus with her
+      sculptor's cunning draperies, and Juno's gait.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Et vera incessa patuit Dea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When she got to the hotel she held up her finger to Severne with a pretty
+      peremptoriness. She had shown him so much tenderness, she felt she had a
+      right to order him now: &ldquo;I must beg of you,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;to go straight to
+      your rooms and dress very quickly, and present yourself to Harrington five
+      minutes before dinner at least.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will obey,&rdquo; said he, obsequiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That pleased her, and she kissed her hand to him and scudded to her own
+      room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At sight of the blazing fire and provident preparations, she started, and
+      said, aloud, &ldquo;Oh, how nice of them!&rdquo; and, all dripping as she was, she
+      stood there with her young heart in a double glow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Such a nature as hers has too little egotism and low-bred vanity to
+      undervalue worthy love. The infinite heart of a Zoe Vizard can love but
+      one with passion, yet ever so many more with warm and tender affection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She gave Aunt Maitland credit for this provident affection. It was out of
+      the sprightly Fanny's line; and she said to herself, &ldquo;Dear old thing!
+      there, I thought she was bottling up a lecture for me, and all the time
+      her real anxiety was lest I should be wet through.&rdquo; Thereupon she settled
+      in her mind to begin loving Aunt Maitland from that hour. She did not ring
+      for her maid till she was nearly dressed, and, when Rosa came and
+      exclaimed at the condition of her cast-off robes, she laughed and told her
+      it was nothing&mdash;the Rhine was nice and warm&mdash;pretending she had
+      been in it. She ordered her to dry the dress, and iron it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, la, miss; you'll never wear it again, to be sure?&rdquo; said Rosa,
+      demurely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; said the young lady, archly; &ldquo;but I mean to take great
+      care of it,&rdquo; and burst out laughing like a peal of silver bells, because
+      she was in high spirits, and saw what Rosa would be at.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Give away the gown she had been wooed and wet through in&mdash;no, thank
+      you! Such gowns as these be landmarks, my masters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard, unconscious of her arrival, was walking up and down the room,
+      fidgeting more and more, when in came Zoe, dressed high in black silk and
+      white lace, looking ever so cozy, and blooming like a rose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;in, and dressed.&rdquo; He took her by the shoulders and gave
+      her a great kiss. &ldquo;You young monkey!&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I was afraid you were
+      washed away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe suggested that would only have been a woman obliterated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true,&rdquo; said he, with an air of hearty conviction. &ldquo;I forgot
+      that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He then inquired if she had had a nice walk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, beautiful! Imprisoned half the time in a cow-shed, and then drenched.
+      But I'll have a nice walk with you, dear, up and down the room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come on, then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So she put her right hand on his left shoulder, and gave him her left
+      hand, and they walked up and down the room, Zoe beaming with happiness and
+      affection for everybody and walking at a graceful bend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne came in, dressed as perfect as though just taken out of a bandbox.
+      He sat down at a little table, and read a little journal unobtrusively. It
+      was his cue to divest his late <i>te'te-'a-te'te</i> of public importance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then came dinner, and two of the party absent. Vizard heard their voices
+      going like mill-clacks at this sacred hour, and summoned them rather
+      roughly, as stated above. His back was to Zoe, and she rubbed her hands
+      gayly to Severne, and sent him a flying whisper: &ldquo;Oh, what fun! We are the
+      culprits, and they are the ones scolded.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dinner waited ten minutes, and then the defaulters appeared. Nothing was
+      said, but Vizard looked rather glum; and Aunt Maitland cast a vicious look
+      at Severne and Zoe: they had made a forced march, and outflanked her. She
+      sat down, and bided her time, like a fowler waiting till the ducks come
+      within shot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the conversation was commonplace, inconsecutive, shifty, and vague,
+      and it was two hours before anything came within shot: all this time not a
+      soul suspected the ambushed fowler.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, Vizard, having thrown out one of his hints that the fair sex are
+      imperfect, Fanny, being under the influence of Miss Maitland's
+      revelations, ventured to suggest that they had no more faults than men,
+      and <i>certainly</i> were not more deceitful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed?&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;Not&mdash;more&mdash;<i>deceitful!</i> Do you
+      speak from experience?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, no,&rdquo; said Fanny, getting rather frightened. &ldquo;I only think so,
+      somehow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but you must have a reason. May I respectfully inquire whether more
+      men have jilted you than you have jilted?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may inquire as respectfully as you like; but I shan't tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is right, Miss Dover,&rdquo; said Severne; &ldquo;don't you put up with his
+      nonsense. He knows nothing about it: women are angels, compared with men.
+      The wonder is, how they can waste so much truth and constancy and beauty
+      upon the foul sex. To my mind, there is only one thing we beat you in; we
+      do stick by each other rather better than you do. You are truer to us. We
+      are a little truer to each other.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a little,&rdquo; suggested Vizard, dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For my part,&rdquo; said Zoe, blushing pink at her boldness in advancing an
+      opinion on so large a matter, &ldquo;I think these comparisons are rather
+      narrow-minded. What have we to do with bad people, male or female? A good
+      man is good, and a good woman is good. Still, I do think that women have
+      greater hearts to love, and men, perhaps, greater hearts for friendship:&rdquo;
+       then, blushing roseate, &ldquo;even in the short time we have been here we have
+      seen two gentlemen give up pleasure for self-denying friendship. Lord
+      Uxmoor gave us all up for a sick friend. Mr. Severne did more, perhaps;
+      for he lost that divine singer. You will never hear her now, Mr. Severne.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Maitland gun went off: &ldquo;A sick friend! Mr. Severne? Ha, ha, ha! You
+      silly girl, he has got no sick friend. He was at the gaming-table. That
+      was his sick friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was an effective discharge. It winged a duck or two. It killed, as
+      follows: the tranquillity&mdash;the good humor&mdash;and the content of
+      the little party.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne started, and stared, and lost color, and then cast at Vizard a
+      venomous look never seen on his face before; for he naturally concluded
+      that Vizard had betrayed him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe was amazed, looked instantly at Severne, saw it was true, and turned
+      pale at his evident discomfiture. Her lover had been guilty of deceit&mdash;mean
+      and rather heartless deceit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Even Fanny winced at the pointblank denunciation of a young man, who was
+      himself polite to everybody. She would have done it in a very different
+      way&mdash;insinuations, innuendo, etc.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They have found you out, old fellow,&rdquo; said Vizard, merrily; &ldquo;but you need
+      not look as if you had robbed a church. Hang it all! a fellow has got a
+      right to gamble, if he chooses. Anyway, he paid for his whistle; for he
+      lost three hundred pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Three hundred pounds!&rdquo; cried the terrible old maid. &ldquo;Where ever did he
+      get them to lose?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne divined that he had nothing to gain by fiction here; so he said,
+      sullenly, &ldquo;I got them from Vizard; but I gave him value for them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You need not publish our private transactions, Ned,&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;Miss
+      Maitland, this is really not in your department.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, it is,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;and so you'll find.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This pertinacity looked like defiance. Vizard rose from his chair, bowed
+      ironically, with the air of a man not disposed for a hot argument.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In that case&mdash;with permission&mdash;I'll withdraw to my veranda and,
+      in that [he struck a light] peaceful&mdash;[here he took a suck] shade&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will meditate on the charms of Ina Klosking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard received this poisoned arrow in the small of the back, as he was
+      sauntering out. He turned like a shot, as if a man had struck him, and,
+      for a single moment, he looked downright terrible and wonderfully unlike
+      the easy-going Harrington Vizard. But he soon recovered himself. &ldquo;What!
+      you listen, do you?&rdquo; said he; and turned contemptuously on his heel
+      without another word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was an uneasy, chilling pause. Miss Maitland would have given
+      something to withdraw her last shot. Fanny was very uncomfortable and
+      fixed her eyes on the table. Zoe, deeply shocked at Severne's deceit, was
+      now amazed and puzzled about her brother. &ldquo;Ina Klosking!&rdquo; inquired she;
+      &ldquo;who is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ask Mr. Severne,&rdquo; said Miss Maitland, sturdily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now Mr. Severne was sitting silent, but with restless eyes, meditating how
+      he should get over that figment of his about the sick friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe turned round on him, fixed her glorious eyes full upon his face, and
+      said, rather imperiously, &ldquo;Mr. Severne, who is Ina Klosking?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Severne looked up blankly in her face, and said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She colored at not being answered, and repeated her question (all this
+      time Fanny's eyes were fixed on the young man even more keenly than
+      Zoe's), &ldquo;Who&mdash;and what&mdash;is Ina Klosking?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is a public singer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I heard her sing at Vienna.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes; but do you know her to speak to?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He considered half a moment, and then said he had not that honor. &ldquo;But,&rdquo;
+       said he, rather hurriedly, &ldquo;somebody or other told me she had come out at
+      the opera here and made a hit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What in&mdash;Siebel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know. But I saw large bills out with her name. She made her <i>de'but</i>
+      in Gounod's 'Faust.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is <i>my</i> Siebel!&rdquo; cried Zoe, rapturously. &ldquo;Why, aunt, no wonder
+      Harrington admires her. For my part, I adore her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;You,</i> child! That is quite a different matter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it is not. He is like me; he has only seen her once, as I have, and
+      on the stage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fiddle-dee-dee. I tell you he is in love with her, over head and ears. He
+      is wonderfully inflammable for a woman-hater. Ask Mr. Severne: he knows.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Severne, is my brother in love with that lady?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne's turn had come; that able young man saw his chance, and did as
+      good a bit of acting as ever was extemporized even by an Italian mime.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Vizard,&rdquo; said he, fixing his hazel eyes on her for the first time,
+      in a way that made her feel his power, &ldquo;what passed in confidence between
+      two friends ought to be sacred. Don't&mdash;you&mdash;think so?&rdquo; (The girl
+      quivered, remembering the secret he had confessed to her.) &ldquo;Miss Maitland
+      has done your brother and me the honor to listen to our secrets. She shall
+      repeat them, if she thinks it delicate; but I shall not, without Vizard's
+      consent; and, more than that, the conversation seems to me to be taking
+      the turn of casting blame and ridicule and I don't know what on the
+      best-hearted, kindest-hearted, truest-hearted, noblest, and manliest man I
+      know. I decline to take any further share in it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With these last words in his mouth, he stuck his hands defiantly into his
+      pockets and stalked out into the veranda, looking every inch a man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe folded her arms and gazed after him with undisguised admiration. How
+      well everything he did became him; his firing up&mdash;his <i>brusquerie&mdash;</i>the
+      very movements of his body, all so piquant, charming, and unwomanly! As he
+      vanished from her admiring eyes, she turned, with flaming cheeks, on Miss
+      Maitland, and said, &ldquo;Well, aunt, you have driven them both out at the
+      window; now, say something pretty to Fanny and me, and drive us out at the
+      door.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Maitland hung her head; she saw she had them all against her but
+      Fanny, and Fanny was a trimmer. She said, sorrowfully, &ldquo;No, Zoe. I feel
+      how unattractive I have made the room. I have driven away the gods of your
+      idolatry&mdash;they are only idols of clay; but that you can't believe. I
+      will banish nobody else, except a cross-grained, but respectable old
+      woman, who is too experienced, and too much soured by it, to please young
+      people when things are going wrong.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With this she took her bed-candle, and retired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe had an inward struggle. As Miss Maitland opened her bedroom door, she
+      called to her: &ldquo;Aunt! one word. Was it you that ordered the fire in my
+      bedroom?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, if she had received the answer she expected, she meant to say, &ldquo;Then
+      please let me forget everything else you have said or done to-day.&rdquo; But
+      Miss Maitland stared a little, and said, &ldquo;Fire in your bedroom? no.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Then I have nothing to thank you for this day,&rdquo; said Zoe, with all
+      the hardness of youth; though, as a general rule, she had not her share of
+      it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old lady winced visibly, but she made a creditable answer. &ldquo;Then, my
+      dear, you shall have my prayers this night; and it does not matter much
+      whether you thank me for them or not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As she disappeared, Zoe flung herself wearily on a couch, and very soon
+      began to cry. Fanny ran to her and nestled close to her, and the two had a
+      rock together, Zoe crying, and Fanny coaxing and comforting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; sighed Zoe, &ldquo;this was the happiest day of my life; and see how it
+      ends. Quarreling; and deceit! the one I hate, the other I despise. No,
+      never again, until I have said my prayers, and am just going to sleep,
+      will I cry 'O giorno felice!' as I did this afternoon, when the rain was
+      pouring on me, but my heart was all in a glow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      These pretty little lamentations of youth were interrupted by Mr. Severne
+      slipping away from his friend, to try and recover lost ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was coolly received by Zoe; then he looked dismayed, but affected not
+      to understand; then Zoe pinched Fanny, which meant &ldquo;I don't choose to put
+      him on his defense; but I am dying to hear if he has anything to say.&rdquo;
+       Thereupon Fanny obeyed that significant pinch, and said, &ldquo;Mr. Severne, my
+      cousin is not a woman of the world; she is a country girl, with
+      old-fashioned romantic notions that a man should be above telling fibs. I
+      have known her longer than you, and I see she can't understand your
+      passing off the gambling-table for a sick friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, I never did,&rdquo; said he, as bold as brass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Severne!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Dover, my sick friend was at 'The Golden Star.' That's a small hotel
+      in a different direction from the Kursaal. I was there from seven o'clock
+      till nine. You ask the waiter, if you don't believe me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny giggled at this inadvertent speech; but Zoe's feelings were too
+      deeply engaged to shoot fun flying. &ldquo;Fanny&rdquo; cried she, eagerly, &ldquo;I heard
+      him tell the coachman to drive him to that very place, 'The Golden Star.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Really?&rdquo; said Fanny, mystified.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed I did, dear. I remember 'The Golden Star' distinctly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ladies, I was there till nine o'clock. Then I started for the theater.
+      Unfortunately the theater is attached to the Kursaal. I thought I would
+      just look in for a few minutes. In fact, I don't think I was there half an
+      hour. But Miss Maitland is quite right in one thing. I lost more than two
+      hundred pounds, all through playing on a false system. Of course, I know I
+      had no business to go there at all, when I might have been by your side.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And heard La Klosking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was devilish bad taste, and you may well be surprised and offended.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; not at that,&rdquo; said Zoe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But hang it all, don't make a fellow worse than he is! Why should I
+      invent a sick friend? I suppose I have a right to go to the Kursaal if I
+      choose. At any rate, I mean to go to-morrow afternoon, and win a pot of
+      money. Hinder me who can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe beamed with pleasure. &ldquo;That spiteful old woman! I am ashamed of
+      myself. Of course you <i>have.</i> It becomes a man to say <i>je veux;</i>
+      and it becomes a woman to yield. Forgive our unworthy doubts. We will all
+      go to the Kursaal to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The reconciliation was complete; and, to add to Zoe's happiness, she made
+      a little discovery. Rosa came in to see if she wanted anything. That, you
+      must know, was Rosa's way of saying, &ldquo;It is very late. <i>I</i>'m tired;
+      so the sooner <i>you</i> go to bed, the better.&rdquo; And Zoe was by nature so
+      considerate that she often went to bed more for Rosa's convenience than
+      her own inclination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But this time she said, sharply, &ldquo;Yes, I do. I want to know who had my
+      fire lighted for me in the middle of summer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, squire, to be sure,&rdquo; said Rosa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What&mdash;<i>my</i> brother!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, miss; and seen to it all hisself: leastways, I found the things
+      properly muddled. 'Twas to be seen a man had been at 'em.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa retired, leaving Zoe's face a picture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just then Vizard put his head cautiously in at the window, and said, in a
+      comic whisper, &ldquo;Is she gone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, she is gone,&rdquo; cried Zoe, &ldquo;and you are wanted in her place.&rdquo; She ran
+      to meet him. &ldquo;Who ordered a fire in my room, and muddled all my things?&rdquo;
+       said she, severely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did. What of that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nothing. Only now I know who is my friend. Young people, here's a
+      lesson for you. When a lady is out in the rain, don't prepare a lecture
+      for her, like Aunt Maitland, but light her fire, like this dear old duck
+      of a woman-hating impostor. Kiss me!&rdquo; (violently).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There&mdash;pest!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is not enough, nor half. There, and there, and there, and there, and
+      there, and there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now look here, my young friend,&rdquo; said Vizard, holding her lovely head by
+      both ears, &ldquo;you are exciting yourself about nothing, and that will end in
+      one of your headaches. So, just take your candle, and go to bed, like a
+      good little girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Must I? Well, then, I will. Goodby, tyrant dear. Oh, how I love you!
+      Come, Fanny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She gave her hand shyly to Severne, and soon they were both in Zoe's room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rosa was dismissed, and they had their chat; but it was nearly all on one
+      side. Fanny had plenty to say, but did not say it. She had not the heart
+      to cloud that beaming face again so soon; she temporized: Zoe pressed her
+      with questions too; but she slurred things, Zoe asked her why Miss
+      Maitland was so bitter against Mr. Severne. Fanny said, in an off-hand
+      way, &ldquo;Oh, it is only on your account she objects to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what are her objections?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, only grammatical ones, dear. She says his <i>antecedents</i> are
+      obscure, and his <i>relatives</i> unknown, ha! ha! ha!&rdquo; Fanny laughed, but
+      Zoe did not see the fun. Then Fanny stroked her down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind that old woman. I shall interfere properly, if I see you in
+      danger. It was monstrous her making an <i>esclandre</i> at the very
+      dinner-table, and spoiling your happy day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But she hasn't!&rdquo; cried Zoe, eagerly. &ldquo;'All's well that ends well.' I am
+      happy&mdash;oh, so happy! You love me. Harrington loves me. <i>He</i>
+      loves me. What more can any woman ask for than to be <i>ambata bene?&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was the last word between Zoe and Fanny upon St. Brooch's day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Fanny went to her own room, the vigilant Maitland opened her door that
+      looked upon the corridor and beckoned her in. &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;did you
+      speak to Zoe?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just a word before dinner. Aunt, she came in wet, to the skin, and in
+      higher spirits than Rosa ever knew her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt groaned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what do you think? Her spoiled dress, she ordered it to be ironed and
+      put by. <i>It is a case.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day they all met at a late breakfast, and good humor was the order of
+      the day. This encouraged Zoe to throw out a feeler about the
+      gambling-tables. Then Fanny said it must be nice to gamble, because it was
+      so naughty. &ldquo;In a long experience,&rdquo; said Miss Dover, with a sigh, &ldquo;I have
+      found that whatever is nice is naughty, and whatever is naughty is nice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's a short code of morals,&rdquo; observed Vizard, &ldquo;for the use of
+      seminaries. Now let us hear Severne; he knows all the defenses of gambling
+      lunacy has discovered.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne, thus appealed to, said play was like other things, bad only when
+      carried to excess. &ldquo;At Homburg, where the play is fair, what harm can
+      there be in devoting two or three hours of a long day to <i>trente et
+      quarante?</i> The play exercises memory, judgment, <i>sangfroid,</i> and
+      other good qualities of the mind. Above all, it is on the square. Now,
+      buying and selling shares without delivery, bulling, and bearing, and
+      rigging, and Stock Exchange speculations in general, are just as much
+      gambling; but with cards all marked, and dice loaded, and the fair player
+      has no chance. The world,&rdquo; said this youthful philosopher, &ldquo;is taken in by
+      words. The truth is, that gambling with cards is fair, and gambling
+      without cards a swindle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is hard upon the City,&rdquo; said the Vizard; &ldquo;but no matter. Proceed,
+      young man. Develop your code of morals for the amusement of mankind, while
+      duller spirits inflict instruction.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have got my opinion,&rdquo; said Severne. &ldquo;Oblige us with yours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; mine would not be popular just now: I reserve it till we are there,
+      and can see the lunatics at work.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, then we are to go,&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;Oh, be joyful!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That depends on Miss Maitland. It is not in my department.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Instantly four bright eyes were turned piteously on the awful Maitland.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, aunt,&rdquo; said Zoe, pleadingly, &ldquo;do you think there would be any great
+      harm in our&mdash;just for once in a way?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; said Miss Maitland, solemnly, &ldquo;I cannot say that I approve of
+      public gambling in general. But at Homburg the company is select. I have
+      seen a German prince, a Russian prince, and two English countesses, the
+      very <i>e'lite</i> of London society, seated at the same table in the
+      Kursaal. I think, therefore, there can be no harm in your going, under the
+      conduct of older persons&mdash;myself, for example, and your brother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Code three,&rdquo; suggested Vizard&mdash;&ldquo;the chaperonian code.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And a very good one, too,&rdquo; said Zoe. &ldquo;But, aunt, must we look on, or may
+      we play just a little, little?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear, there can be no great harm in playing a little, in <i>good
+      company</i>&mdash;if you play with your own money.&rdquo; She must have one dig
+      at Severne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shan't play very deep, then,&rdquo; said Fanny; &ldquo;for I have got no money
+      hardly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard came to the front, like a man. &ldquo;No more should I,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;but
+      for Herries &amp; Co. As it is, I am a Croesus, and I shall stand one
+      hundred pounds, which you three ladies must divide; and between you, no
+      doubt, you will break the bank.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Acclamations greeted this piece of misogyny. When they had subsided,
+      Severne was called on to explain the game, and show the young ladies how
+      to win a fortune with thirty-three pounds six shillings and eight pence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The table was partly cleared, two packs of cards sent for, and the
+      professor lectured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;is the cream of the game. Six packs are properly
+      shuffled, and properly cut; the players put their money on black or red,
+      which is the main event, and is settled thus: The dealer deals the cards
+      in two rows. He deals the <i>first</i> row for black, and stops the moment
+      the cards pass thirty. That deal determines how near <i>noir</i> can get
+      to thirty-one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne then dealt for <i>noir,</i> and the cards came as follows:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Queen of hearts&mdash;four of clubs&mdash;ten of spades&mdash;nine of
+      diamonds: total, thirty-three.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He then dealt for red:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Knave of clubs&mdash;ace of diamonds&mdash;two of spades&mdash;king of
+      spades&mdash;nine of hearts: total, thirty-two.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Red wins, because the cards dealt for red come nearer thirty-one. Besides
+      that,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;you can bet on the color, or against it. The actual color
+      of the first card the player turns up on the black line must be black or
+      red. Whichever happens to be it is called 'the color.' Say it is red;
+      then, if the black line of cards wins, color loses. Now, I will deal again
+      for both events.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I deal for <i>noir.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nine of diamonds. Red, then, is the actual color turned up on the black
+      line. Do you bet for it, or against it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I bet for it,&rdquo; cried Zoe. &ldquo;It's my favorite color.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what do you say on the main event?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, red on that too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very good. I go on dealing for <i>noir.</i> Queen of diamonds, three of
+      spades, knave of hearts&mdash;nine of spades: thirty-two. That looks ugly
+      for your two events, black coming so near as thirty-two. Now for red. Four
+      of hearts, knave of spades, seven of diamonds, queen of clubs&mdash;thirty-one,
+      by Jove! <i>Rouge gagne, et couleur.</i> There is nothing like courage.
+      You have won both events.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, what a nice game!&rdquo; cried Zoe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He then continued to deal, and they all bet on the main event and the
+      color, staking fabulous sums, till at last both numbers came up
+      thirty-one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon Severne informed them that half the stakes belonged to him. That
+      was the trifling advantage accorded to the bank.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which trifling advantage,&rdquo; said Vizard, &ldquo;has enriched the man-eating
+      company, and their prince, and built the Kursaal, and will clean you all
+      out, if you play long enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That,&rdquo; said Severne, &ldquo;I deny. It is more than balanced by the right the
+      players have of doubling, till they gain, and by the maturity of the
+      chances: I will explain this to the ladies. You see experience proves that
+      neither red nor black can come up more than nine times running. When,
+      therefore, either color has come up four times, you can put a moderate
+      stake on the other color, and double on it till it <i>must</i> come, by
+      the laws of nature. Say red has turned four times. You put a napoleon on
+      black; red gains. You lose a napoleon. You don't remove it, but double on
+      it. The chances are now five to one you gain: but if you lose, you double
+      on the same, and, when you have got to sixteen napoleons, the color must
+      change; uniformity has reached its physical limit. That is called the
+      maturity of the chances. Begin as unluckily as possible with five francs,
+      and lose. If you have to double eight times before you win, it only comes
+      to twelve hundred and eighty francs. Given, therefore, a man to whom fifty
+      napoleons are no more than five francs to us, he can never lose if he
+      doubles, like a Trojan, till the chances are mature. This is called 'the
+      Martingale:' but, observe, it only secures against loss. Heavy gains are
+      made by doubling judiciously on the <i>winning</i> color, or by simply
+      betting on short runs of it. When red comes up, back red, and double twice
+      on it. Thus you profit by the remarkable and observed fact that colors do
+      not, as a rule, alternate, but reach ultimate equality by avoiding
+      alternation, and making short runs, with occasional long runs; the latter
+      are rare, and must be watched with a view to the balancing run of the
+      other color. This is my system.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you really think you have invented it?&rdquo; asked Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not so conceited. My system was communicated to me, in the Kursaal
+      itself&mdash;by an old gentleman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;An</i> old gentleman, or <i>the</i>&mdash;?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Harrington,&rdquo; cried Zoe, &ldquo;fie!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My wit is appreciated at its value. Proceed, Ned.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne told him, a little defiantly, it was an old gentleman, with a
+      noble head, a silvery beard, and the most benevolent countenance he ever
+      saw.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Curious place for his reverence to be in,&rdquo; hazarded Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He saw me betting, first on the black, then on the red, till I was
+      cleaned out, and then he beckoned me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a man of premature advice anyway.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He told me he had observed my play. I had been relying on the
+      alternations of the colors, which alternation chance persistently avoids,
+      and arrives at equality by runs. He then gave me a better system.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And, having expounded his system, he illustrated it? Tell the truth now;
+      he sat down and lost the coat off his back? It followed his family acres.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are quite wrong again. He never plays. He has heart-disease, and his
+      physician has forbidden him all excitement.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His nation?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! French.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! the nation that produced <i>'Le philosophe sans le savoir.'</i> And
+      now it has added, <i>'Le philosophe sans le vouloir,''</i> and you have
+      stumbled on him. What a life for an aged man! <i>Fortunatus ille senex qui
+      ludicola vivit.</i> Tantalus handcuffed and glowering over a
+      gambling-table; a hell in a hell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Harrington!&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exclamations not allowed in sober argument, Zoe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, Ned, it is not heart-disease, it is purse disease. Just do me a
+      favor. Here are five sovereigns; give those to the old beggar, and let him
+      risk them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I could hardly take such a liberty with an old gentleman of his age and
+      appearance&mdash;a man of honor too, and high sentiments. Why, I'd bet
+      seven to four he is one of Napoleon's old soldiers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The ladies sided unanimously with Severne. &ldquo;What! offer a <i>vieux de
+      l'Empire</i> five pounds? Oh, fie!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fiddle-dee-dee!&rdquo; said the indomitable Vizard. &ldquo;Besides, he will do it
+      with his usual grace. He will approach the son of Mars with that feigned
+      humility which sits so well on youth, and ask him, as a personal favor, to
+      invest five pounds for him at <i>rouge-et-noir.</i> The old soldier will
+      stiffen into double dignity at first, then give him a low wink, and end by
+      sitting down and gambling. He will be cautious at starting, as one who
+      opens trenches for the siege of Mammon; but soon the veteran will get
+      heated, and give battle; he will fancy himself at Jena, since the
+      croupiers are Prussians. If he loses, you cut him dead, being a humdrum
+      Englishman; and if he wins, he cuts you, and pockets the cash, being a
+      Frenchman that talks sentiment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This sally provoked a laugh, in which Severne joined, and said, &ldquo;Really,
+      for a landed proprietor, you know a thing or two.&rdquo; He consented at last,
+      with some reluctance, to take the money; and none of the persons present
+      doubted that he would execute the commission with a grace and delicacy all
+      his own. Nevertheless, to run forward a little with the narrative, I must
+      tell you that he never did hand that five pound to the venerable sire; a
+      little thing prevented him&mdash;the old man wasn't born yet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; said Vizard, &ldquo;it is our last day in Homburg. You are all going
+      to gratify your mania&mdash;lunacy is contagious. Suppose I gratify mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do dear,&rdquo; said Zoe; &ldquo;and what is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I like your asking that; when it was publicly announced last night, and I
+      fled discomfited to my balcony, and, in my confusion, lighted a cigar. My
+      mania is&mdash;the Klosking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is not a mania; it is good taste. She is admirable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Yes, in an opera; but I want to know how she looks and talks in a room;
+and that is insane of me.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then so you <i>shall,</i> insane or not. I will call on her this morning,
+      and take you in my hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What an ample palm! and what juvenile audacity! Zoe, you take my breath
+      away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No audacity at all. I am sure of my welcome. How often must I tell you
+      that we have mesmerized each other, that lady and I, and only waiting an
+      opportunity to rush into each other's arms. It began with her singling me
+      out at the opera. But I dare say that was owing, <i>at first,</i> only to
+      my being in full dress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; to your being, like Agamemnon, a head taller than all the other
+      Greeks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harrington! I am not a Greek. I am a thorough English girl at heart,
+      though I am as black as a coal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No apology needed in our present frame. You are all the more like the ace
+      of spades.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you want me to take you to the Klosking, sir? Then you had better not
+      make fun of me. I tell you she sung to <i>me,</i> and smiled on <i>me,</i>
+      and courtesied to <i>me;</i> and, now you have put it into my head, I mean
+      to call upon her, and I will take you with me. What I shall do, I shall
+      send in my card. I shall be admitted, and you will wait outside. As soon
+      as she sees me, she will run to me with both hands out, and say, in
+      excellent <i>French,</i> I hope, <i>'How,</i> mademoiselle! you have
+      deigned to remember me, and to honor me with a visit.' Then I shall say,
+      in school-French, 'Yes, madame; excuse the intrusion, but I was so charmed
+      with your performance. We leave Homburg to-morrow, and as, unfortunately
+      for myself, I cannot have the pleasure of seeing you again upon the stage&mdash;'
+      then I shall stop, for her to interrupt me. Then she will interrupt me,
+      and say charming things, as only foreigners can; and then I shall say,
+      still in school-French, 'Madame, I am not alone. I have my brother with
+      me. He adores music, and was as fascinated with your Siebel as myself. May
+      I present him?' Then she will say, 'Oh, yes, by all means;' and I shall
+      introduce you. Then you can make love to her. That will be droll. Fanny,
+      I'll tell you every word he says.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Make love to her!&rdquo; cried Vizard. &ldquo;Is this your estimate of a brother's
+      motives. My object in visiting this lady is, not to feed my mania, but to
+      cure it. I have seen her on the stage, looking like the incarnation of a
+      poet's dream. I am <i>extasie''</i> with her. Now let me catch her <i>en
+      de'shabille,</i> with her porter on one side, and her lover on the other:
+      and so to Devonshire, relieved of a fatal illusion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If that is your view, I'll go by myself; for I know she is a noble woman,
+      and as much a lady off the stage as on it. My only fear is she will talk
+      that dreadful guttural German, with its 'oches' and its 'aches,' and then
+      where shall we all be? We must ask Mr. Severne to go with us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A good idea. No&mdash;a vile one. He is abominably handsome, and has the
+      gift of the gab&mdash;in German, and other languages. He is sure to cut me
+      out, the villain! Look him up, somebody, till we come back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Harrington, don't be absurd. He must, and shall, be of the party. I
+      have my reasons. Mr. Severne,&rdquo; said she, turning on him with a blush and a
+      divine smile, &ldquo;you will oblige me, I am sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne's face turned as blank as a doll's, and he said nothing, one way
+      or other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was settled that they should all meet at the Kursaal at four, to dine
+      and play. But Zoe and her party would go on ahead by the one-o'clock
+      train; and so she retired to put on her bonnet&mdash;a technical
+      expression, which implies a good deal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny went with her, and, as events more exciting than the usual routine
+      of their young lives were ahead, their tongues went a rare pace. But the
+      only thing worth presenting to the reader came at the end, after the said
+      business of the toilet had been dispatched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe said, &ldquo;I must go now, or I shall keep them waiting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only one, dear,&rdquo; said Fanny dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why only one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Severne will not go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That he will: I made a point of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You did, dear? but still he will not go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was something in this, and in Fanny's tone, that startled Zoe, and
+      puzzled her sorely. She turned round upon her with flashing eye, and said,
+      &ldquo;No mysteries, please, dear. Why won't he go with me wherever I ask him to
+      go? or, rather, what makes you think he won't?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Said Fanny, thoughtfully: &ldquo;I could not tell you, all in a moment, why I
+      feel so positive. One puts little things together that are nothing apart:
+      one observes faces; I do, at least. You don't seem, to me, to be so quick
+      at that as most girls. But, Zoe dear, you know very well one often knows a
+      thing for certain, yet one doesn't know exactly what makes one know it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now Zoe's <i>amour propre</i> was wounded by Fanny's suggestion that
+      Severne would not go to Homburg, or, indeed, to the world's end with her;
+      so she drew herself up in her grand way, and folded her arms and said, a
+      little haughtily, &ldquo;Then tell me what is it you know about <i>him</i> and
+      me, without knowing how on earth you know it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The supercilious tone and grand manner nettled Fanny, and it wasn't
+      &ldquo;brooch day;&rdquo; she stood up to her lofty cousin like a little game-cock. &ldquo;I
+      know this,&rdquo; said she, with heightened cheek, and flashing eyes and a voice
+      of steel, &ldquo;you will never get Mr. Edward Severne into one room with Zoe
+      Vizard and Ina Klosking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe Vizard turned very pale, but her eyes flashed defiance on her friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I'll know!&rdquo; said she, in a deep voice, with a little gasp, but a
+      world of pride and resolution.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THE ladies went down together, and found Vizard ready. Mr. Severne was not
+      in the room. Zoe inquired after him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gone to get a sun-shade,&rdquo; said Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There!&rdquo; said Zoe to Fanny, in a triumphant whisper. &ldquo;What is that for but
+      to go with us?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny made no reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They waited some time for Severne and his sun-shade.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last Vizard looked at his watch, and said they had only five minutes to
+      spare. &ldquo;Come down, and look after him. He <i>must</i> be somewhere about.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They went down and looked for him all over the Platz. He was not to be
+      seen. At last Vizard took out his watch, and said, &ldquo;It is some
+      misunderstanding: we can't wait any longer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So he and Zoe went to the train. Neither said much on the way to Homburg;
+      for they were both brooding. Vizard's good sense and right feeling were
+      beginning to sting him a little for calling on the Klosking at all, and a
+      great deal for using the enthusiasm of an inexperienced girl to obtain an
+      introduction to a public singer. He sat moody in his corner, taking
+      himself to task. Zoe's thoughts ran in quite another channel; but she was
+      no easier in her mind. It really seemed as if Severne had given her the
+      slip. Probably he would explain his conduct; but, then, that Fanny should
+      foretell he would avoid her company, rather than call on Mademoiselle
+      Klosking, and that Fanny should be right&mdash;this made the thing
+      serious, and galled Zoe to the quick: she was angry with Fanny for
+      prophesying truly; she was rather angry with Severne for not coming, and
+      more angry with him for making good Fanny's prediction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe Vizard was a good girl and a generous girl, but she was not a humble
+      girl: she had a great deal of pride, and her share of vanity, and here
+      both were galled. Besides that, it seemed to her most strange and
+      disheartening that Fanny, who did not love Severne, should be able to
+      foretell his conduct better than she, who did love him: such foresight
+      looked like greater insight. All this humiliated and also puzzled her
+      strangely; and so she sat brooding as deeply as her brother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for Vizard, by the time they got to Homburg he had made up his mind. As
+      they got out of the train, he said, &ldquo;Look here, I am ashamed of myself. I
+      have a right to play the fool alone; but I have no business to drag my
+      sister into it. We will go somewhere else. There are lots of things to
+      see. I give up the Klosking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe stared at him a moment, and then answered, with cold decision, &ldquo;No,
+      dear; you must allow me to call on her, now I am here. She won't bite <i>me.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but it is a strange thing to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does that matter? We are abroad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, Zoe, I am much obliged to you; but give it up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Harrington smiled at her pretty peremptoriness, and misunderstood it.
+      &ldquo;This is carrying sisterly love a long way,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I must try and rise
+      to your level. I won't go with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I shall go alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What if I forbid you, miss?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She tapped him on the cheek with her fingers. &ldquo;Don't affect the tyrant,
+      dear; you can't manage it. Fanny said something that has mortified me. I
+      shall go. You can do as you like. But, stop; where does she live?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Suppose I decline to tell you? I am seized with a virtuous fit&mdash;a
+      regular paroxysm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I shall go to the opera and inquire, dear. But&rdquo; (coaxingly) &ldquo;you
+      will tell me, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There,&rdquo; said Harrington, &ldquo;you wicked, tempting girl, my sham virtue has
+      oozed away, and my real mania triumphs. She lives at 'The Golden Star.' I
+      was weak enough to send Harris in last night to learn.&rdquo; Zoe smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He hailed a conveyance; and they started at once for &ldquo;The Golden Star.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zoe,&rdquo; said Harrington gravely, &ldquo;something tells me I am going to meet my
+      fate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the better,&rdquo; said Zoe. &ldquo;I wish you to meet your fate. My love for my
+      brother is not selfish. I am sure she is a good woman. Perhaps I may find
+      out something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, never mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VIII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      ALL this time Ina Klosking was rehearsing at the theater, quite
+      unconscious of the impending visit. A royal personage had commanded &ldquo;Il
+      Barbiere,&rdquo; the part of Rosina to be restored to the original key. It was
+      written for a contralto, but transposed by the influence of Grisi.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Having no performance that night, they began to rehearse rather later than
+      usual, and did not leave off till a quarter to four o'clock. Ina, who
+      suffered a good deal at rehearsals from the inaccuracy and apathy of the
+      people, went home fagged, and with her throat parched&mdash;so does a bad
+      rehearsal affect all good and earnest artists.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She ordered a cutlet, with potato chips, and lay down on the sofa. While
+      she was reposing, came Joseph Ashmead, to cheer her, with good photographs
+      of her, taken the day before. She smiled gratefully at his zeal. He also
+      reminded her that he had orders to take her to the Kursaal: he said the
+      tables would be well filled from five o'clock till quite late, there being
+      no other entertainment on foot that evening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina thanked him, and said she would not miss going on any account; but she
+      was rather fatigued and faint.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I'll wait for you as long as you like,&rdquo; said Ashmead, kindly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, my good comrade,&rdquo; said Ina. &ldquo;I will ask you to go to the manager and
+      get me a little money, and then to the Kursaal and secure me a place at
+      the table in the largest room. There I will join you. If <i>he</i> is not
+      there&mdash;and I am not so mad as to think he will be there&mdash;I shall
+      risk a few pieces myself, to be nearer him in mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This amazed Ashmead; it was so unlike her. &ldquo;You are joking,&rdquo; said he.
+      &ldquo;Why, if you lose five napoleons at play, it will be your death; you will
+      grizzle so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but I shall not lose. I am too unlucky in love to lose at cards. I
+      mean to play this afternoon; and never again in all my life. Sir, I am
+      resolved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, if you are resolved, there is no more to be said. I won't run my head
+      against a brick wall.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina, being half a foreigner, thought this rather brusk. She looked at him
+      askant, and said, quietly, &ldquo;Others, besides me, can be stubborn, and get
+      their own way, while speaking the language of submission. Not I invented
+      volition.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With this flea in his ear, the faithful Joseph went off, chuckling, and
+      obtained an advance from the manager, and then proceeded to the principal
+      gaming-table, and, after waiting some time, secured a chair, which he kept
+      for his chief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      An hour went by; an hour and a half. He was obliged, for very shame, to
+      bet. This he did, five francs at a time; and his risk was so small, and
+      his luck so even, that by degrees he was drawn into conversation with his
+      neighbor, a young swell, who was watching the run of the colors, and
+      betting in silver, and pricking a card, preparatory to going in for a
+      great <i>coup.</i> Meantime he favored Mr. Ashmead with his theory of
+      chances, and Ashmead listened very politely to every word; because he was
+      rather proud of the other's notice: he was so handsome, well dressed, and
+      well spoken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime Ina Klosking snatched a few minutes' sleep, as most artists can
+      in the afternoon, and was awakened by the servant bringing in her frugal
+      repast, a cutlet and a pint of Bordeaux.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On her plate he brought her a large card, on which was printed &ldquo;Miss Zoe
+      Vizard.&rdquo; This led to inquiries, and he told her a lady of superlative
+      beauty had called and left that card. Ina asked for a description.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, madame,&rdquo; said Karl, &ldquo;do not expect details from me. I was too
+      dazzled, and struck by lightning, to make an inventory of her charms.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At least you can tell me was she dark or fair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madame, she was dark as night; but glorious as the sun. Her earthly abode
+      is the Russie, at Frankfort; blest hotel!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did she tell you so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indirectly. She wrote on the card with the smallest pencil I have
+      hitherto witnessed: the letters are faint, the pencil being inferior to
+      the case, which was golden. Nevertheless, as one is naturally curious to
+      learn whence a bright vision has emerged, I permitted myself to decipher.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your curiosity was natural,&rdquo; said Ina, dryly. &ldquo;I will detain you with no
+      more questions.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She put the card carefully away, and eat her modest repast. Then she made
+      her afternoon toilet, and walked, slowly and pensively, to the Kursaal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nothing there was new to her, except to be going to the table without the
+      man on whom it was her misfortune to have wasted her heart of gold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I think, therefore, it would be better for me to enter the place in
+      company with our novices; and, indeed, we must, or we shall derange the
+      true order of time and sequence of incidents; for, please observe, all the
+      English ladies of our story met at the Kursaal while Ina was reposing on
+      her sofa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The first-comers were Zoe and Harrington. They entered the noble hall,
+      inscribed their names, and, by that simple ceremony, were members of a
+      club, compared with which the greatest clubs in London are petty things: a
+      club with spacious dining-rooms, ball-rooms, concert-rooms,
+      gambling-rooms, theater, and delicious gardens. The building, that
+      combined so many rich treats, was colossal in size, and glorious with rich
+      colors and gold laid on with Oriental profusion, and sometimes with
+      Oriental taste.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Harrington took his sister through the drawing-rooms first; and she
+      admired the unusual loftiness of the rooms, the blaze of white and gold,
+      and of <i>ce'ladon</i> and gold, and the great Russian lusters, and the
+      mighty mirrors. But when they got to the dining-room she was enchanted.
+      That lofty and magnificent <i>salon,</i> with its daring mixture of red
+      and black, and green and blue, all melted into harmony by the rivers of
+      gold that ran boldly among them, went to her very heart. A Greek is half
+      an Oriental; and Zoe had what may be called the courage of color.
+      &ldquo;Glorious!&rdquo; she cried, and clasped her hands. &ldquo;And see! what a background
+      to the emerald grass outside and the ruby flowers. They seem to come into
+      the room through those monster windows.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Splendid!&rdquo; said Harrington, to whom all this was literally Greek. &ldquo;I'm so
+      excited, I'll order dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dinner!&rdquo; said Zoe, disdainfully; and sat down and eyed the Moresque walls
+      around her, and the beauties of nature outside, and brought them together
+      in one picture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Harrington was a long time in conclave with M. Chevet. Then Zoe became
+      impatient.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, do leave off ordering dinner,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;and take me out to that
+      other paradise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Chevet shrugged his shoulders with pity. Vizard shrugged his too, to
+      soothe him; and, after a few more hurried words, took the lover of color
+      into the garden. It was delicious, with green slopes, and rich foliage,
+      and flowers, and enlivened by bright silk dresses, sparkling fitfully
+      among the green leaves, or flaming out boldly in the sun; and, as luck
+      would have it, before Zoe had taken ten steps upon the greensward, the
+      band of fifty musicians struck up, and played as fifty men rarely play
+      together out of Germany.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe was enchanted. She walked on air, and beamed as bright as any flower
+      in the place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After her first ejaculation at the sudden music, she did not speak for a
+      good while; her content was so great. At last she said, &ldquo;And do they leave
+      this paradise to gamble in a room?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Leave it? They shun it. The gamblers despise the flowers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How perverse people are! Excitement! Who wants any more than this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zoe,&rdquo; said Vizard, &ldquo;innocent excitement can never compete with vicious.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, is it really wicked to play?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know about wicked; you girls always run to the biggest word. But,
+      if avarice is a vice, gambling cannot be virtuous; for the root of
+      gambling is mere avarice, weak avarice. Come, my young friend, <i>as we're
+      quite alone,</i> I'll drop Thersites, and talk sense to you, for once.
+      Child, there are two roads to wealth; one is by the way of industry,
+      skill, vigilance, and self-denial; and these are virtues, though sometimes
+      they go with tricks of trade, hardness of heart, and taking advantage of
+      misfortune, to buy cheap and sell dear. The other road to wealth is by
+      bold speculation, with risk of proportionate loss; in short, by gambling
+      with cards, or without them. Now, look into the mind of the gambler&mdash;he
+      wants to make money, contrary to nature, and unjustly. He wants to be
+      rewarded without merit, to make a fortune in a moment, and without
+      industry, vigilance, true skill, or self-denial. 'A penny saved is a penny
+      gained' does not enter his creed. Strip the thing of its disguise, it is
+      avarice, sordid avarice; and I call it weak avarice, because the gambler
+      relies on chance alone, yet accepts uneven chances, and hopes that Fortune
+      will be as much in love with him as he is with himself. What silly
+      egotism! You admire the Kursaal, and you are right; then do just ask
+      yourself why is there nothing to pay for so many expensive enjoyments: and
+      very little to pay for concerts and balls; low prices at the opera, which
+      never pays its own expenses; even Chevet's dinners are reasonable, if you
+      avoid his sham Johannisberg. All these cheap delights, the gold, the
+      colors, the garden, the music, the lights, are paid for by the losses of
+      feeble-minded Avarice. But, there&mdash;I said all this to Ned Severne,
+      and I might as well have preached sense to the wind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harrington, I will not play. I am much happier walking with my good
+      brother&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Faute de mieux.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe blushed, but would not hear&mdash;&ldquo;And it is so good of you to make a
+      friend of me, and talk sense. Oh! see&mdash;a lady with two blues! Come
+      and look at her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Before they had taken five steps, Zoe stopped short and said, &ldquo;It is Fanny
+      Dover, I declare. She has not seen us yet. She is short-sighted. Come
+      here.&rdquo; And the impetuous maid dragged him off behind a tuft of foliage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she had got him there she said hotly that it was too bad.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, is it?&rdquo; said he, very calmly. &ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, don't you see what she has done? You, so sensible, to be so slow
+      about women's ways; and you are always pretending to know them. Why, she
+      has gone and bought that costume with the money you gave her to play
+      with.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sensible girl!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dishonest girl, <i>I</i> call her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There you go to your big words. No, no. A little money was given her for
+      a bad purpose. She has used it for a frivolous one. That is 'a step in the
+      right direction'&mdash;jargon of the day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But to receive money for one purpose, and apply it to another, is&mdash;what
+      do you call it&mdash;<i>chose?&mdash;de'tournement des fonds</i>&mdash;what
+      is the English word? I've been abroad till I've forgotten English. Oh, I
+      know&mdash;embezzlement.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, that is a big word for a small transaction; you have not dug in the
+      mine of the vernacular for nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harrington, if you don't mind, I do; so please come. I'll talk to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop a moment,&rdquo; said Vizard, very gravely. &ldquo;You will not say one word to
+      her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And why not, pray?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because it would be unworthy of us, and cruel to her; barbarously cruel.
+      What! call her to account before that old woman and me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not? She is flaunting her blues before you two, and plenty more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Feminine logic, Zoe. The point is this&mdash;she is poor. You must know
+      that. This comes of poverty and love of dress; not of dishonesty and love
+      of dress; and just ask yourself, is there a creature that ought to be
+      pitied more and handled more delicately than a <i>poor lady?</i> Why, you
+      would make her writhe with shame and distress! Well, I do think there is
+      not a single wild animal so cruel to another wild animal as a woman is to
+      a woman. You are cruel to one another by instinct. But I appeal to your
+      reason&mdash;if you have any.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe's eyes filled. &ldquo;You are right,&rdquo; said she, humbly. &ldquo;Thank you for
+      thinking for me. I will not say a word to her before <i>you.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a good girl. But, come now, why say a word at all?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it is no use your demanding impossibilities, dear. I could no more
+      help speaking to her than I could fly; and don't go fancying she will care
+      a pin what I say, if I don't say it before <i>a gentleman.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Having given him this piece of information, she left her ambush, and
+      proceeded to meet the all-unconscious blue girl; but, even as they went,
+      Vizard returned to his normal condition, and doled out, rather indolently,
+      that they were out on pleasure, and might possibly miss the object of the
+      excursion if they were to encourage a habit of getting into rages about
+      nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe was better than her word. She met Fanny with open admiration: to be
+      sure, she knew that apathy, or even tranquillity, on first meeting the
+      blues, would be instantly set down to envy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And where did you get it, dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At quite a small shop.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;French?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no; I think she was an Austrian. This is not a French mixture: loud,
+      discordant colors, that is the French taste.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here is heresy,&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;Why, I thought the French beat the world
+      in dress.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, dear,&rdquo; said Zoe, &ldquo;in form and pattern. But Fanny is right; they make
+      mistakes in color. They are terribly afraid of scarlet; but they are
+      afraid of nothing else: and many of their mixtures are as discordant to
+      the eye as Wagner's music to the ear. Now, after all, scarlet is the king
+      of colors; and there is no harm in King Scarlet, if you treat him with
+      respect and put a modest subject next to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gypsy locks, for instance,&rdquo; suggested Fanny, slyly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Maitland owned herself puzzled. &ldquo;In my day,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;no one ever
+      thought of putting blue upon blue; but really, somehow, it looks well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I tell you why, aunt?&mdash;because the dress-maker had a real eye,
+      and has chosen the right tints of blue. It is all nonsense about one color
+      not going with another. Nature defies that; and how? by choosing the very
+      tints of each color that will go together. The sweetest room I ever saw
+      was painted by a great artist; and, do you know, he had colored the
+      ceiling blue and the walls green: and I assure you the effect was
+      heavenly: but, then, he had chosen the exact tints of green and blue that
+      would go together. The draperies were between crimson and maroon. But
+      there's another thing in Fanny's dress; it is velvet. Now, blue velvet is
+      blue to the mind; but it is not blue to the eye. You try and paint blue
+      velvet; you will be surprised how much white you must lay on. The high
+      lights of all velvets are white. This white helps to blend the two tints
+      of blue.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is very instructive,&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;I was not aware I had a sister,
+      youthful, but profound. Let us go in and dine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny demurred. She said she believed Miss Maitland wished to take one
+      turn round the grounds first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Maitland stared, but assented in a mechanical way; and they commenced
+      their promenade.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe hung back and beckoned her brother. &ldquo;Miss Maitland!&rdquo; said she, with
+      such an air. <i>&ldquo;She</i> wants to show her blues to all the world and his
+      wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very natural,&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;So would you, if you were in a scarlet gown,
+      with a crimson cloak.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe laughed heartily at this, and forgave Fanny her new dress: but she had
+      a worse bone than that to pick with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a short but agreeable promenade to Zoe, for now they were alone,
+      her brother, instead of sneering, complimented her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never you mind my impertinence,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;the truth is, I am proud of
+      you. You are an observer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me? Oh&mdash;in color.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind: an observer is an observer; and genuine observation is not so
+      common. Men see and hear with their prejudices and not their senses. Now
+      we are going to those gaming-tables. At first, of course, you will play;
+      but, as soon as ever you are cleaned out, observe! Let nothing escape that
+      woman's eye of yours: and so we'll get something for our money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harrington,&rdquo; said the girl proudly, &ldquo;I will be all eye and ear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon after this they went in to dinner. Zoe cast her eyes round for
+      Severne, and was manifestly disappointed at his not meeting them even
+      there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for Fanny, she had attracted wonderful attention in the garden, and was
+      elated; her conscience did not prick her in the least, for such a trifle
+      as <i>de'tournement des fonds;</i> and public admiration did not improve
+      her: she was sprightly and talkative as usual; but now she was also a
+      trifle brazen, and pert all round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And so the dinner passed, and they proceeded to the gaming-tables.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Maitland and Zoe led. Fanny and Harrington followed: for Miss Dover,
+      elated by the blues&mdash;though, by-the-by, one hears of them as
+      depressing&mdash;and encouraged by admiration and Chevet's violet-perfumed
+      St. Peray, took Harrington's arm, really as if it belonged to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They went into the library first, and, after a careless inspection, came
+      to the great attraction of the place. They entered one of the
+      gambling-rooms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The first impression was disappointing. There were two very long tables,
+      rounded off at the ends: one for <i>trente et quarante</i> and one for <i>roulette.</i>
+      At each table were seated a number of persons, and others standing behind
+      them. Among the persons seated was the dealer, or, in roulette, the
+      spinner. This official sat in the center, flanked on each side by
+      croupiers with rakes; but at each end of the table there was also a
+      croupier with his rake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The rest were players or lookers-on; most of whom, by well-known
+      gradations of curiosity and weakness, to describe which minutely would be
+      to write a little comedy that others have already written, were drawn into
+      playing at last. So fidgets the moth about the candle before he makes up
+      what, no doubt, the poor little soul calls his mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Our little party stopped first at <i>trente et quarante,</i> and Zoe
+      commenced her observations. Instead of the wild excitement she had heard
+      of, there was a subdued air, a forced quiet, especially among the seated
+      players. A stern etiquette presided, and the gamblers shrouded themselves
+      in well-bred stoicism&mdash;losing without open distress or ire, winning
+      without open exultation. The old hands, especially, began play with a
+      padlock on the tongue and a mask upon the face. There are masks, however,
+      that do not hide the eye; and Miss Vizard caught some flashes that escaped
+      the masks even then at the commencement of the play. Still, external
+      stoicism prevailed, on the whole, and had a fixed example in the <i>tailleur</i>
+      and the croupiers. Playing many hours every day in the year but
+      Good-Friday, and always with other people's money, these men had parted
+      with passion, and almost with sensation; they had become skillful
+      automata, chanting a stave, and raking up or scattering hay-cocks of gold,
+      which to them were counters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was with the monotonous voice of an automaton they intoned:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Faites le jeu, messieu, messieu.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, after a pause of ten seconds:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Le jeu est fait, messieu.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, after two seconds:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rien ne va plus.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then mumble&mdash;mumble&mdash;mumble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, &ldquo;La' Rouge perd et couleur,&rdquo; or whatever might be the result.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the croupiers first raked in the players' losses with vast
+      expedition; next, the croupiers in charge of the funds chucked the precise
+      amount of the winnings on to each stake with unerring dexterity and the
+      indifference of machines; and the chant recommenced, &ldquo;Faites le jeu,
+      messieu.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Pause, ten seconds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Le jeu est fait, messieu.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Pause, two seconds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rien ne va plus.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The <i>tailleur</i> dealt, and the croupier intoned, &ldquo;La'! Rouge gagne et
+      couleur perd:&rdquo; the mechanical raking and dexterous chucking followed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This, with a low buzzing, and the deadened jingle of gold upon green
+      cloth, and the light grating of the croupiers' rakes, was the first
+      impression upon Zoe's senses; but the mere game did not monopolize her
+      attention many seconds. There were other things better worth noting: the
+      great varieties of human type that a single passion had brought together
+      in a small German town. Her ear was regaled with such a polyglot murmur as
+      she had read of in Genesis, but had never witnessed before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here were the sharp Tuscan and the mellow Roman; the sibilation of
+      England, the brogue of Ireland, the shibboleth of the Minories, the twang
+      of certain American States, the guttural expectoration of Germany, the
+      nasal emphasis of France, and even the modulated Hindoostanee, and the
+      sonorous Spanish, all mingling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The types of face were as various as the tongues.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here were the green-eyed Tartar, the black-eyed Italian, and the gray-eyed
+      Saxon; faces all cheek-bones, and faces no cheek-bones; the red Arabian,
+      the fair Dane, and the dark Hindoo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her woman's eye seized another phenomenon&mdash;the hands. Not nations
+      only, but varieties of the animal kingdom were represented. Here were the
+      white hands of fair women, and the red paws of obese shop-keepers, and the
+      yellow, bird-like claws of old withered gamesters, all stretched out, side
+      by side, in strange contrast, to place the stakes or scratch in the
+      winnings; and often the winners put their palms or paws on their heap of
+      gold, just as a dog does on a bone when other dogs are nigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But what Zoe's eye rested on longest were the costume and deportment of
+      the ladies. A few were in good taste; others aimed at a greater variety of
+      beautiful colors than the fair have, up to this date, succeeded in
+      combining, without inflicting more pain on the beholders than a beneficent
+      Creator&mdash;so far as we can judge by his own system of color&mdash;intended
+      the cultivated eye to suffer. Example&mdash;as the old writers used to say&mdash;one
+      lady fired the air in primrose satin, with red-velvet trimming. This mild
+      mixture re-appeared on her head in a primrose hat with a red feather. A
+      gold chain, so big that it would have done for a felon instead of a fool,
+      encircled her neck, and was weighted with innumerable lockets, which in
+      size and inventive taste resembled a poached egg, and betrayed the insular
+      goldsmith. A train three yards long completed this gorgeous figure. She
+      had commenced life a shrimp-girl, and pushed a dredge before her, instead
+      of pulling a silken besom after her. Another stately queen (with an &ldquo;a&rdquo;)
+      heated the atmosphere with a burnous of that color the French call <i>flamme
+      d'enfer,</i> and cooled it with a green bonnet. A third appeared to have
+      been struck with the beauty of a painter's palette, and the skill with
+      which its colors mix before the brush spoils them. Green body, violet
+      skirts, rose-colored trimmings, purple sleeves, light green boots,
+      lavender gloves. A shawl all gauze and gold, flounced like a petticoat; a
+      bonnet so small, and red feather so enormous and all-predominant, that a
+      peacock seemed to be sitting on a hedge sparrow's nest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe suspected these polychromatic ladies at a glance, and observed their
+      manners, in a mistrustful spirit, carefully. She was little surprised,
+      though a good deal shocked, to find that some of them seemed familiar, and
+      almost jocular, with the croupiers; and that, although they did not talk
+      loud, being kept in order by the general etiquette, they rustled and
+      fidgeted and played in a devil-may-care sort of manner. This was in great
+      measure accounted for by the circumstance that they were losing other
+      people's money: at all events, they often turned their heads over their
+      shoulders, and applied for fresh funds to their male companions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe blushed at all this, and said to Vizard, &ldquo;I should like to see the
+      other rooms.&rdquo; She whispered to Miss Maitland, &ldquo;Surely they are not very
+      select in this one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lead on,&rdquo; said Vizard; &ldquo;that is the way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny had not parted with his arm all this time. As they followed the
+      others, he said, &ldquo;But she will find it is all the same thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny laughed in his face. &ldquo;Don't you <i>see?</i> C'est la chasse au
+      Severne qui commence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;En voil'a un se'v'ere,&rdquo; replied he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was mute. She had not learned that sort of French in her
+      finishing-school. I forgive it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next room was the same thing over again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe stood a moment and drank everything in, then turned to Vizard,
+      blushed, and said, &ldquo;May we play a little now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fanny!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; you begin, dear. We will stand by and wish you success.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a coward,&rdquo; said Zoe, loftily; and went to the table with more
+      changes of color than veteran lancers betray in charging infantry. It was
+      the <i>roulette</i> table she chose. That seems a law of her sex. The true
+      solution is not so profound as some that have been offered. It is this: <i>trente
+      et quarante</i> is not only unintelligible, but uninteresting. At <i>roulette</i>
+      there is a pictorial object and dramatic incident; the board, the turning
+      of the <i>moulinet,</i> and the swift revolutions of an ivory ball, its
+      lowered speed, its irregular bounds, and its final settlement in one of
+      the many holes, numbered and colored. Here the female understanding sees
+      something it can grasp, and, above all, the female eye catches something
+      pictorial and amusing outside the loss or gain; and so she goes, by her
+      nature, to <i>roulette,</i> which is a greater swindle than the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe staked five pounds on No. 21, for an excellent reason; she was in her
+      twenty-first year. The ball was so illogical as to go into No. 3, and she
+      lost. She stood by her number and lost again. She lost thirteen times in
+      succession.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The fourteenth time the ball rolled into 21, and the croupier handed her
+      thirty-five times her stake, and a lot more for color.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her eye flashed, and her cheek flushed, and I suppose she was tempted to
+      bet more heavily, for she said, &ldquo;No. That will never happen to me again, I
+      know;&rdquo; and she rose, the richer by several napoleons, and said, &ldquo;Now let
+      us go to another.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;What an extraordinary girl! She will give the devil
+      more trouble than most of you. Here's precocious prudence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny laughed in his face. &ldquo;C'est la chasse qui recommence,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I ought to explain that when she was in England she did not interlard her
+      discourse with French scraps. She was not so ill-bred. But abroad she had
+      got into a way of it, through being often compelled to speak French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard appreciated the sagacity of the remark, but he did not like the
+      lady any the better for it. He meditated in silence. He remembered that,
+      when they were in the garden. Zoe had hung behind, and interpreted Fanny
+      ill-naturedly; and here was Fanny at the same game, literally backbiting,
+      or back-nibbling, at all events. Said he to himself, &ldquo;And these two are
+      friends! female friends.&rdquo; And he nursed his misogyny in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They came into a very noble room, the largest of all, with enormous
+      mirrors down to the ground, and a ceiling blazing with gold, and the air
+      glittering with lusters. Two very large tables, and a distinguished
+      company at each, especially at the <i>trente et quarante.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before our little party had taken six steps into the room, Zoe stood like
+      a pointer; and Fanny backed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Should these terms seem disrespectful, let Fanny bear the blame. It is her
+      application of the word &ldquo;chasse&rdquo; that drew down the simile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yes, there sat Ned Severne, talking familiarly to Joseph Ashmead, and
+      preparing to &ldquo;put the pot on,&rdquo; as he called it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now Zoe was so far gone that the very sight of Severne was a balsam to
+      her. She had a little bone to pick with him; and when he was out of sight,
+      the bone seemed pretty large. But when she saw his adorable face,
+      unconscious, as it seemed, of wrong, the bone faded and the face shone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her own face cleared at the sight of him: she turned back to Fanny and
+      Vizard, arch and smiling, and put her finger to her mouth, as much as to
+      say, &ldquo;Let us have some fun. We have caught our truant: let us watch him,
+      unseen, a little, before we burst on him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard enjoyed this, and encouraged her with a nod.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The consequence was that Zoe dropped Miss Maitland's arm, who took that
+      opportunity to turn up her nose, and began to creep up like a young cat
+      after a bird; taking a step, and then pausing; then another step, and a
+      long pause; and still with her eye fixed on Severne. He did not see her,
+      nor her companions, partly because they were not in front of him, but
+      approaching at a sharp angle, and also because he was just then beginning
+      to bet heavily on his system. By this means, two progressive events went
+      on contemporaneously: the arch but cat-like advance of Zoe, with pauses,
+      and the betting of Severne, in which he gave himself the benefit of his
+      system.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>Noir</i> having been the last to win, he went against the alternation
+      and put fifty pounds on <i>noir.</i> Red won. Then, true to his system, he
+      doubled on the winning color. One hundred pounds on red. Black won. He
+      doubled on black, and red won; and there were four hundred pounds of his
+      five hundred gone in five minutes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On this proof that the likeliest thing to happen&mdash;viz., alternation
+      of the color&mdash;does <i>sometime</i> happen, Severne lost heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned to Ashmead, with all the superstition of a gambler, &ldquo;For God's
+      sake, bet for me!&rdquo; said he. He clutched his own hair convulsively, in a
+      struggle with his mania, and prevailed so far as to thrust fifty pounds
+      into his own pocket, to live on, and gave Ashmead five tens.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but,&rdquo; said Ashmead, &ldquo;you must tell me what to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no. Bet your own way, for me.&rdquo; He had hardly uttered these words,
+      when he seemed to glare across the table at the great mirror, and,
+      suddenly putting his handkerchief to his mouth, he made a bolt sidewise,
+      plunged amid the bystanders, and emerged only to dash into a room at the
+      side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he disappeared, a lady came slowly and pensively forward from the outer
+      door; lifted her eyes as she neared the table, saw a vacant chair, and
+      glided into it, revealing to Zoe Vizard and her party a noble face, not so
+      splendid and animated as on the stage, for its expression was slumbering;
+      still it was the face of Ina Klosking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No transformation trick was ever done more neatly and smoothly than this,
+      in which, nevertheless, the performers acted without concert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne fled out, and the Klosking came slowly in; yet no one had time to
+      take the seat, she glided into it so soon after Severne had vacated it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe Vizard and her friends stared after the flying Severne, then stared at
+      the newcomer, and then turned round and stared at each other, in mutual
+      amazement and inquiry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What was the meaning of this double incident, that resembled a conjurer's
+      trick? Having looked at her companions, and seen only her own surprise
+      reflected, Zoe Vizard fixed her eyes, like burning-glasses, upon Ina
+      Klosking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then that lady thickened the mystery. She seemed very familiar with the
+      man Severne had been so familiar with.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That man contributed his share to the multiplying mystery. He had a muddy
+      complexion, hair the color of dirt, a long nose, a hatchet face, mean
+      little eyes, and was evidently not a gentleman. He wore a brown velveteen
+      shooting-coat, with a magenta tie that gave Zoe a pain in the eye. She had
+      already felt sorry to see her Severne was acquainted with such a man. He
+      seemed to her the <i>ne plus ultra</i> of vulgarity; and now, behold, the
+      artist, the woman she had so admired, was equally familiar with the same
+      objectionable person.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To appreciate the hopeless puzzle of Zoe Vizard, the reader must be on his
+      guard against his own knowledge. He knows that Severne and Ashmead were
+      two Bohemians, who had struck up acquaintance, all in a minute, that very
+      evening. But Zoe had not this knowledge, and she could not possibly divine
+      it. The whole thing was presented to her senses thus: a vulgar man, with a
+      brown velveteen shooting-coat and a red-hot tie was a mutual friend of the
+      gentlemanly Severne and the dignified Klosking. Severne left the mutual
+      friend; Mademoiselle Klosking joined the mutual friend; and there she sat,
+      where Severne had sat a moment ago, by the side of their mutual friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All manner of thoughts and surmises thronged upon Zoe Vizard; but each way
+      of accounting for the mystery contradicted some plain fact or other; so
+      she was driven at last to a woman's remedy. She would wait, and watch.
+      Severne would probably come back, and somehow furnish the key. Meantime
+      her eye was not likely to leave the Klosking, nor her ear to miss a
+      syllable the Klosking might utter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She whispered to Vizard, in a very peculiar tone, &ldquo;I will play at this
+      table,&rdquo; and stepped up to it, with the word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The duration of such beauty as Zoe's is proverbially limited; but the
+      limit to its power, while it does last, has not yet been discovered. It is
+      a fact that, as soon as she came close to the table two male gamblers
+      looked up, saw her, wondered at her, and actually jumped up and offered
+      their seats: she made a courteous inclination of the head, and installed
+      Miss Maitland in one seat, without reserve. She put a little gold on the
+      table, and asked Miss Maitland, in a whisper, to play for her. She herself
+      had neither eye nor ear except for Ina Klosking. That lady was having a
+      discussion, <i>sotto voce,</i> with Ashmead; and if she had been one of
+      your mumblers whose name is legion, even Zoe's swift ear could have caught
+      little or nothing. But when a voice has volume, and the great habit of
+      articulation has been brought to perfection, the words travel
+      surprisingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe heard the lady say to Ashmead, scarcely above her breath, &ldquo;Well, but
+      if he requested you to bet for him, how can he blame you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe could not catch Ashmead's reply, but it was accompanied by a shake of
+      the head; so she understood him to object.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, after a little more discussion, Ina Klosking said, &ldquo;What money have
+      you of mine?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead produced some notes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said the Klosking. &ldquo;Now, I shall take my twenty-five pounds,
+      and twenty-five pounds of his, and play. When he returns, we shall, at all
+      events, have twenty-five pounds safe for him. I take the responsibility.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; thought Zoe; &ldquo;then he <i>is</i> coming back. Ah, I shall see what
+      all this means.&rdquo; She felt sick at heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe Vizard was on the other side, but not opposite Mademoiselle Klosking;
+      she was considerably to the right hand; and as the new-comer was much
+      occupied, just at first, with Ashmead, who sat on her left, Zoe had time
+      to dissect her, which she did without mercy. Well, her costume was
+      beautifully made, and fitted on a symmetrical figure; but as to color, it
+      was neutral&mdash;a warm French gray, and neither courted admiration nor
+      risked censure: it was unpretending. Her lace collar was valuable, but not
+      striking. Her hair was beautiful, both in gloss and color, and
+      beautifully, but neatly, arranged. Her gloves and wristbands were perfect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As every woman aims at appearance, openly or secretly, and every other
+      woman knows she does, Zoe did not look at this meek dress with male
+      simplicity, unsuspicious of design, but asked herself what was the leading
+      motive; and the question was no sooner asked than answered. &ldquo;She has
+      dressed for her golden hair and her white throat. Her hair, her deep gray
+      eyes, and her skin, are just like a flower: she has dressed herself as the
+      modest stalk. She is an artist.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the same table were a Russian princess, an English countess, and a
+      Bavarian duchess&mdash;all well dressed, upon the whole. But their dresses
+      showed off their dresses; the Klosking's showed off herself. And there was
+      a native dignity, and, above all, a wonderful seemliness, about the
+      Klosking that inspired respect. Dress and deportment were all of a piece&mdash;decent
+      and deep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While Zoe was picking her to pieces, Ina, having settled matters with
+      Ashmead, looked up, and, of course, took in every other woman who was in
+      sight at a single sweep. She recognized Zoe directly, with a flush of
+      pleasure; a sweet, bright expression broke over her face, and she bowed to
+      her with a respectful cordiality that was captivating.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe yielded to the charm of manner, and bowed and smiled in return,
+      though, till that moment, she had been knitting her black brows at her in
+      wonder and vague suspicion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina trifled with the game, at first. Ashmead was still talking to her of
+      the young swell and his system. He explained it to her, and how it had
+      failed. &ldquo;Not but what,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;there is a great deal in it most
+      evenings. But to-day there are no runs; it is all turn and turn about. If
+      it would rain, now, you would see a change.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Ina, &ldquo;I will bet a few pounds on red, then on black, till
+      these runs begin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      During the above conversation, of which Zoe caught little, because Ashmead
+      was the chief speaker, she cast her eyes all round the table and saw a
+      curious assemblage of figures.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a solemn Turk melting his piasters with admirable gravity; there
+      was the Russian princess; and there was a lady, dressed in loud,
+      incongruous colors, such as once drew from a horrified modiste the cry,
+      &ldquo;Ah, Dieu! quelle immoralite'!&rdquo; and that's a fact. There was a Popish
+      priest, looking sheepish as he staked his silver, and an Anglican rector,
+      betting flyers, and as <i>nonchalant,</i> in the blest absence of his
+      flock and the Baptist minister, as if he were playing at whist with the
+      old Bishop of Norwich, who played a nightly rubber in my father's day&mdash;and
+      a very bad one. There was a French count, nearly six feet high, to whom
+      the word &ldquo;old&rdquo; would have been unjust: he was antique, and had turned into
+      bones and leather; but the hair on that dilapidated trunk was its own; and
+      Zoe preferred him much to the lusty old English beau beside him, with
+      ivory teeth and ebon locks that cost a pretty penny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a fat, livid Neapolitan betting heavily; there was a creole
+      lady, with a fine oval face, rather sallow, and eyes and hair as black as
+      Zoe's own. Indeed, the creole excelled her, by the addition of a little
+      black fringe upon her upper lip that, prejudice apart, became her very
+      well. Her front hair was confined by two gold threads a little way apart,
+      on which were fixed a singular ornament, the vivid eyes of a peacock's
+      tail set close together all round. It was glorious, regal. The hussy
+      should have been the Queen of Sheba, receiving Solomon, and showing her
+      peacock's eyes against his crown-jewels. Like the lilies of the field,
+      these products of nature are bad to beat, as we say on Yorkshire turf.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Indeed that frontlet was so beautiful and well placed, it drew forth
+      glances of marked disdain from every lady within sight of it, Zoe
+      excepted. She was placable. This was a lesson in color; and she managed to
+      forgive the teacher, in consideration of the lesson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Amid the gaudier birds, there was a dove&mdash;a young lady, well dressed,
+      with Quaker-like simplicity, in gray silk dress with no trimmings, a white
+      silk bonnet and veil. Her face was full of virtues. Meeting her elsewhere,
+      you would say &ldquo;That is a good wife, a good daughter, and the making of a
+      good mother.&rdquo; Her expression at the table was thoughtful and a little
+      anxious; but every now and then she turned her head to look for her
+      husband, and gave him so sweet a smile of conjugal sympathy and affection
+      as made Zoe almost pray they might win. The husband was an officer, a
+      veteran, with grizzled hair and mustache, a colonel who had commanded a
+      brigade in action, but could only love and spoil his wife. He ought to
+      have been her father, her friend, her commander, and marched her out of
+      that &ldquo;curse-all&rdquo; to the top of Cader Idris, if need was. Instead of that,
+      he stood behind her chair like her lackey all day: for his dove was as
+      desperate a gambler as any in Europe. It was not that she bet very
+      heavily, but that she bet every day and all day. She began in the
+      afternoon, and played till midnight if there was a table going. She knew
+      no day of religion&mdash;no day of rest. She won, and she lost: her own
+      fortune and her husband's stood the money drain; but how about the golden
+      hours? She was losing her youth and wasting her soul. Yet the
+      administration gave her a warning; they did not allow the irretrievable
+      hours to be stolen from her with a noiseless hand. At All Souls' College,
+      Oxford, in the first quadrangle, grave, thoughtful men raised to the top
+      story, two hundred years ago, a grand sundial, the largest, perhaps, and
+      noblest in the kingdom. They set it on the face of the Quad, and wrote
+      over the long pointer in large letters of gold, these words, &ldquo;Pereunt et
+      imputantur,&rdquo; which refer to the hours indicated below, and mean literally,
+      &ldquo;They perish, and go down to our account;&rdquo; but really imply a little more,
+      viz., that &ldquo;they are wasted, and go to our debit.&rdquo; These are true words
+      and big words&mdash;bigger than any royal commissioner has uttered up to
+      date&mdash;and reach the mind through the senses, and have warned the
+      scholars of many a generation not to throw away the seed-time of their
+      youth, which never can come twice to any man. Well, the administration of
+      the Kursaal conveyed to that lost English dove and others a note of
+      warning which struck the senses, as does the immortal warning emblazoned
+      on the fair brow of that beautiful college; only, in the Kursaal the
+      warning struck the ear, not the eye. They provided French clocks with a
+      singularly clear metallic striking tick; their blows upon the life of Time
+      rang sharp above the chant, the mumble, and the jingle. These clocks
+      seemed to cry aloud, and say of the hours, whose waste they recorded,
+      &ldquo;Pereunt - et - impu-tantur, pere - unt - et - imputantur.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Reckless of this protest, the waves of play rolled on, and ere long sucked
+      all our characters but Vizard into the vortex. Zoe hazarded a sovereign on
+      red, and won; then two on black, and won; then four on red, and won. She
+      was launched, and Fanny too. They got excited, and bet higher; the
+      croupiers pelted them with golden coins, and they began to pant and flush,
+      and their eyes to gleam. The old gamblers' eyes seem to have lost this
+      power&mdash;they have grown fishy; but the eyes of these female novices
+      were a sight. Fanny's, being light gray, gleamed like a panther's whose
+      prey is within leap. Zoe's dark orbs could not resemble any wild beast's;
+      but they glowed with unholy fire; and, indeed, all down the table was now
+      seen that which no painter can convey&mdash;for his beautiful but
+      contracted art confines him to a moment of time&mdash;and writers have
+      strangely neglected to notice, viz., the <i>progress of the countenance</i>
+      under play. Many of the masks melted, as if they had been of wax, and the
+      natural expressions forced their way; some got flushed with triumph,
+      others wild and haggard with their losses. One ghastly, glaring loser sat
+      quite quiet, when his all was gone, but clinched his hands so that the
+      nails ran into the flesh, and blood trickled: discovering which, a friend
+      dragged him off like something dead. Nobody minded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The fat old beau got worried by his teeth and pulled them out in a pet and
+      pocketed them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Maitland, who had begun with her gray hair in neat little curls,
+      deranged one so with convulsive hand that it came all down her cheek, and
+      looked most rakish and unbecoming. Even Zoe and Fanny had turned from
+      lambs to leopardesses&mdash;patches of red on each cheek, and eyes like
+      red-hot coals.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The colors had begun to run, and at first the players lost largely to the
+      bank, with one exception.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina Klosking discerned the change, and backed the winning color, then
+      doubled on it twice. She did this so luckily three or four times that,
+      though her single stake was at first only forty pounds, gold seemed to
+      grow around her, and even notes to rise and make a cushion. She, too, was
+      excited, though not openly; her gloves were off, and her own lovely hand,
+      the whitest in the room, placed the stakes. You might see a red spot on
+      her cheek-bone, and a strange glint in her deep eye; but she could not do
+      anything that was not seemly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She played calmly, boldly, on the system that had cleared out Ned Severne,
+      and she won heavily, because she was in luck. It was her hour and her
+      vein.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By this time Zoe and Fanny were cleaned out; and looked in amazement at
+      the Klosking, and wondered how she did it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Maitland, at her last sovereign, began to lean on the victorious
+      Klosking, and bet as she did: her pile increased. The dove caught sight of
+      her game, and backed her luck. The creole backed her heavily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently there was an extraordinary run on black. Numbers were caught.
+      The Klosking won three times, and lost three times; but the bets she won
+      were double bets, and those she lost were single.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then came a <i>refait,</i> and the bank swept off half her stake; but even
+      here she was lucky. She had only forty pounds on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By-and-by came the event of the night. Black had for some time appeared to
+      rule the roost, and thrust red off the table, and the Klosking lost two
+      hundred pounds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Klosking put two hundred pounds on red: it won. She doubled: red won.
+      She doubled: there was a dead silence. The creole lady put the maximum on
+      red, three hundred pounds: red won. Ina Klosking looked a little pale;
+      but, driven by some unaccountable impulse, she doubled. So did the creole.
+      Red won. The automata chucked sixteen hundred pounds to the Klosking, and
+      six hundred pounds to the other lady. Ina bet forty pounds on black. Red
+      won again. She put two hundred pounds on black: black won. She doubled:
+      black won again. She doubled: black won. Doubled again: black won.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The creole and others stood with her in that last run, and the money was
+      chucked. But the settlement was followed by a short whisper, and a
+      croupier, in a voice as mechanical as ever, chanted that the sum set apart
+      for that table was exhausted for that day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Klosking and her backers had broken the bank.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IX.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THERE was a buzzing, and a thronging round the victorious player.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Ina rose, and, with a delicate movement of her milk-white hand, turned the
+      mountain of gold and column of notes toward Ashmead. &ldquo;Make haste, please,&rdquo;
+       she whispered; then put on her gloves deliberately, while Ashmead shoved
+      the gold and the notes anyhow into the inner pockets of his
+      shooting-jacket, and buttoned it well up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;Allons,&rdquo;</i> said she, calmly, and took his arm; but, as she moved
+      away, she saw Zoe Vizard passing on the other side of the table. Their
+      eyes met: she dropped Ashmead's arm and made her a sweeping courtesy full
+      of polite consideration, and a sort of courteous respect for the person
+      saluted, coupled with a certain dignity, and then she looked wistfully at
+      her a moment. I believe she would have spoken to her if she had been
+      alone; but Miss Maitland and Fanny Dover had, both of them, a trick of
+      putting on <i>noli-me-tangere</i> faces among strangers. It did not mean
+      much; it is an unfortunate English habit. But it repels foreigners: they
+      neither do it nor understand it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Those two faces, not downright forbidding, but uninviting, turned the
+      scale; and the Klosking, who was not a forward woman, did not yield to her
+      inclination and speak to Zoe. She took Ashmead's arm again and moved away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Zoe turned back and beckoned Vizard. He joined her. &ldquo;There she is,&rdquo;
+       said Zoe; &ldquo;shall I speak to her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Would you believe it? He thought a moment, and then said, gloomily, &ldquo;Well,
+      no. Half cured now. Seen the lover in time.&rdquo; So that opportunity was
+      frittered away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before the English party left the Kursaal, Zoe asked, timidly, if they
+      ought not to make some inquiry about Mr. Severne. He had been taken ill
+      again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, taken ill, and gone to be cured at another table,&rdquo; said Vizard,
+      ironically. &ldquo;I'll make the tour, and collar him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went off in a hurry; Miss Maitland faced a glass and proceeded to
+      arrange her curl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny, though she had offered no opposition to Vizard's going, now seized
+      Zoe's arm with unusual energy, and almost dragged her aside. &ldquo;The idea of
+      sending Harrington on that fool's errand!&rdquo; said she, peevishly. &ldquo;Why, Zoe!
+      where are your eyes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe showed her by opening them wide. &ldquo;What <i>do</i> you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What&mdash;do&mdash;I&mdash;mean? No matter. Mr. Severne is not in this
+      building, and you know it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can I know? All is so mysterious,&rdquo; faltered Zoe. &ldquo;How do <i>you</i>
+      know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because&mdash;there&mdash;least said is soonest mended.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fanny, you are older than me, and ever so much cleverer. Tell me, or you
+      are not my friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait till you get home, then. Here he is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard told them he had been through all the rooms; the only chance now
+      was the dining-room. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Fanny, &ldquo;we wish to get home; we are rather
+      tired.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They went to the rail, and at first Vizard was rather talkative, making
+      his comments on the players; but the ladies were taciturn, and brought him
+      to a stand. &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; thought he, &ldquo;nothing interests them now; Adonis is not
+      here.&rdquo; So he retired within himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When they reached the Russie, he ordered a <i>petit souper</i> in an hour,
+      and invited the ladies. Meantime they retired&mdash;Miss Maitland to her
+      room, and Fanny, with Zoe, to hers. By this time Miss Dover had lost her
+      alacrity, and would, I verily believe, have shunned a <i>te'te-'a-te'te</i>
+      if she could; but there was a slight paleness in Zoe's cheek, and a
+      compression of the lips, which told her plainly that young lady meant to
+      have it out with her. They both knew so well what was coming, that Zoe
+      merely waved her to a chair and leaned herself against the bed, and said,
+      &ldquo;Now, Fanny.&rdquo; So Fanny was brought to bay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear me,&rdquo; said she piteously, &ldquo;I don't know what to do, between you and
+      Aunt Maitland. If I say all I think, I suppose you will hate me; and if I
+      don't, I shall be told I'm wicked, and don't warn an orphan girl. She flew
+      at me like a bull-dog before your brother: she said I was twenty-five, and
+      I only own to twenty-three. And, after all, what could I say? for I do
+      feel I ought to give you the benefit of my experience, and make myself as
+      disagreeable as <i>she</i> does. And I <i>have</i> given you a hint, and a
+      pretty broad one, but you want such plain speaking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do,&rdquo; said Zoe. &ldquo;So please speak plainly, if you can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, you <i>say</i> that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I mean it. Never mind consequences; tell me the truth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Like a man, eh? and get hated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Men are well worth imitating, in some things. Tell me the truth, pleasant
+      or not, and I shall always respect you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bother respect. I am like the rest of us; I want to be loved a little
+      bit. But there&mdash;I'm in for it. I have said too much, or too little. I
+      know that. Well, Zoe, the long and the short is&mdash;you have a rival.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe turned rather pale, but was not so much shaken as Fanny expected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She received the blow in silence. But after a while she said, with some
+      firmness, &ldquo;Mademoiselle Klosking?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you are not quite blind, then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And pray which does he prefer?&rdquo; asked Zoe, a little proudly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is plain he likes you the best. But why does he fear her so? This is
+      where you seem all in the dark. He flew out of the opera, lest she should
+      see him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Absurd!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He cut you and Vizard, rather than call upon her with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so he did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He flew from the gambling-table the moment she entered the room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Behind him. She came in behind him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There was a large mirror in front of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Fanny! oh!&rdquo; and Zoe clasped her hands piteously. But she recovered
+      herself, and said, &ldquo;After all, appearances are deceitful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not so deceitful as men,&rdquo; said Fanny, sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Zoe clung to her straw. &ldquo;Might not two things happen together? He is
+      subject to bleeding at the nose. It is strange it should occur twice so,
+      but it is possible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zoe,&rdquo; said Fanny, gravely, &ldquo;he is not subject to bleeding at the nose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, <i>then</i>&mdash;but how can you know that? What right have you to
+      say that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll show you,&rdquo; said Fanny, and left the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She soon came back, holding something behind her back. Even at the last
+      moment she was half unwilling. However, she looked down, and said, in a
+      very peculiar tone, &ldquo;Here is the handkerchief he put before his face at
+      the opera; there!&rdquo; and she threw it into Zoe's lap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe's nature revolted against evidence so obtained. She did not even take
+      up the handkerchief. &ldquo;What!&rdquo; she cried; &ldquo;you took it out of his pocket?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you have been in his room and got it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;Nothing of the kind!</i> I sent Rosa.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My maid!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mine, for that job. I gave her half a crown to borrow it for a pattern.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe seized the handkerchief and ran her eye over it in a moment. There was
+      no trace of blood on it, and there were his initials, &ldquo;E. S.,&rdquo; in the
+      corner. Her woman's eye fastened instantly on these. &ldquo;Silk?&rdquo; said she, and
+      held it up to the light. &ldquo;No. Hair!&mdash;golden hair. It is <i>hers!&rdquo;</i>
+      And she flung the handkerchief from her as if it were a viper, and even
+      when on the ground eyed it with dilating orbs and a hostile horror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La!&rdquo; said Fanny; &ldquo;fancy that! You are not blind now. You have seen more
+      than I. I made sure it was yellow silk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But this frivolous speech never even entered Zoe's ear. She was too deeply
+      shocked. She went, feebly, and sat down in a chair, and covered her face
+      with her hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny eyed her with pity. &ldquo;There!&rdquo; said she, almost crying, &ldquo;I never tell
+      the truth but I bitterly repent it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe took no notice of this droll apothegm. Her hands began to work. &ldquo;What
+      shall I do!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;What shall I do!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't go on like that, Zoe!&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;After all, it is you he
+      prefers. He ran away from her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes. But why?&mdash;why? What has he done?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jilted her. I suppose. Aunt Maitland thinks he is after money; and, you
+      know, you have got money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have I nothing else?&rdquo; said the proud beauty, and lifted her bowed head
+      for a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have everything. But you should look things in the face. Is that
+      singer an unattractive woman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no. But she is not poor. Her kind of talent is paid enormously.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;But perhaps she wastes it. She is a gambler,
+      like himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let him go to her,&rdquo; said Zoe, wildly; &ldquo;I will share no man's heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He will never go to her, unless&mdash;well, unless we tell him that she
+      has broken the bank with his money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you think so badly of him, tell him, then, and let him go. Oh, I am
+      wretched&mdash;I am wretched!&rdquo; She lifted her hands in despair, and began
+      to cry and sob bitterly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny was melted at her distress, and knelt to her, and cried with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not being a girl of steady principle, she went round with the wind. &ldquo;Dear
+      Zoe,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;it is deeper than I thought. La! if you love him, why
+      torment yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Zoe; &ldquo;it is deceit and mystery that torment me. Oh, what shall
+      I do! what shall I do!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny interpreted this vague exclamation of sorrow as asking advice, and
+      said, &ldquo;I dare not advise you; I can only tell you what I should do in your
+      place. I should make up my mind at once whether I loved the man, or only
+      liked him. If I only liked him, I would turn him up at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Turn him up! What is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Turn him off, then. If I loved him, I would not let any other woman have
+      the least little bit of a chance to get him. For instance, I would not let
+      him know this old sweetheart of his has won three thousand pounds at
+      least, for I noted her winnings. Diamond cut diamond, my dear. He is
+      concealing from you something or other about him and this Klosking; hide
+      you this one little thing about the Klosking from him, till you get my
+      gentleman safe to England.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And this is love! I call it warfare.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And love is warfare, three times out of four. Anyway, it is for you to
+      decide, Zoe. I do wish you had never seen the man. He is not what he
+      seems. He is a poor adventurer, and a bundle of deceit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very hard on him. You don't know all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, nor a quarter; and you know less. There, dear, dry your eyes and
+      fight against it. After all, you know you are mistress of the situation.
+      I'll settle it for you, which way you like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will? Oh, Fanny, you are very good!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say indulgent, please. I'm not good, and never will be, if <i>I can
+      possibly help.</i> I despise good people; they are as weak as water. But I
+      do like you, Zoe Vizard, better than any other woman in the world. That is
+      not saying very much; my taste is for men. I think them gods and devils
+      compared with us; and I do admire gods and devils. No matter, dear. Kiss
+      me, and say, 'Fanny, act for me,' and I'll do it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe kissed her, and then, by a truly virginal impulse, hid her burning
+      face in her hands, and said nothing at all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny gave her plenty of time, and then said, kindly, &ldquo;Well, dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Zoe murmured, scarce audibly, &ldquo;Act&mdash;<i>as if</i>&mdash;I loved
+      him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And still she kept her face covered with her hands. Fanny was anything but
+      surprised at this conclusion of the struggle. She said, with a certain
+      alacrity, &ldquo;Very well, I will: so now bathe your eyes and come in to
+      supper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; please go and make an excuse for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall do nothing of the kind. I won't be told by-and-by I have done
+      wrong. I will do your business, but it shall be in your hearing. Then you
+      can interfere, if you choose. Only you had better not put your word in
+      till you see what I am driving at.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With a little more encouragement, Zoe was prevailed on to sponge her
+      tearful eyes and compose herself, and join Harrington at supper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Maitland soon retired, pleading fatigue and packing; and she had not
+      been gone long, when Fanny gave her friend a glance and began upon
+      Harrington.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very fond of Mr. Severne, are you not?&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am,&rdquo; said Vizard, stoutly, preparing for battle. &ldquo;You are not,
+      perhaps.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny laughed at this prompt pugnacity. &ldquo;Oh, yes, I am,&rdquo; said she;
+      &ldquo;devoted. But he has a weakness, you must own. He is rather fond of
+      gambling.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is, I am sorry to say. It is his one fault. Most of us have two or
+      three.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you think it would be a pity if he were to refuse to go with us
+      tomorrow&mdash;were to prefer to stay here and gamble?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No fear of that: he has given me his word of honor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Still, I think it would be hardly safe to tempt him. If you go and tell
+      him that friend of his won such a lot of money, he will want to stop; and
+      if he does not stop, he will go away miserable. You know they began
+      betting with his money, though they went on with their own.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, did they? What was his own money?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How much was it, Zoe?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fifty pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Vizard, &ldquo;you must admit it is hard he should lose his own
+      money. And yet I own I am most anxious to get him away from this place.
+      Indeed, I have a project; I want him to rusticate a few months at our
+      place, while I set my lawyer to look into his affairs and see if his
+      estate cannot be cleared. I'll be bound the farms are underlet. What does
+      the Admirable Crichton know about such trifles?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny looked at Zoe, whose color was rising high at all this. &ldquo;Well!&rdquo; said
+      she, &ldquo;when you gentlemen fall in love <i>with each other,</i> you
+      certainly are faithful creatures.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because we can count on fidelity in return,&rdquo; said Vizard. He thought a
+      little, and said, &ldquo;Well, as to the other thing&mdash;you leave it to me.
+      Let us understand one another. Nothing we saw at the gambling-table is to
+      be mentioned by us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Crichton is to be taken to England for his good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I am to be grateful to you for your co-operation in this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can, if you like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you will secure an agreeable companion for the rest of the tour, eh?&mdash;my
+      diplomatic cousin and my silent sister.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but it is too bad of you to see through a poor girl, and her little
+      game, like that. I own he is a charming companion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny's cunning eyes twinkled, and Zoe blushed crimson to see her noble
+      brother manipulated by this artful minx and then flattered for his
+      perspicacity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From that moment a revulsion took place in her mind, and pride fought
+      furiously with love&mdash;for a time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was soon made apparent to Fanny Dover. When they retired, Zoe looked
+      very gloomy; so Fanny asked, rather sharply, &ldquo;Well, what is the matter
+      now? Didn't I do it cleverly?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes, too cleverly. Oh, Fanny, I begin to revolt against myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is nice!&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Go on, dear. It is just what I ought to have
+      expected. You were there. You had only to interfere. You didn't. And now
+      you are discontented.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not with you. Spare me. You are not to blame, and I am very unhappy. I am
+      losing my self-respect. Oh, if this goes on, I shall hate him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, dear&mdash;for five minutes, and then love him double. Come, don't
+      deceive yourself, and don't torment yourself. All your trouble, we shall
+      leave it behind us to-morrow, and every hour will take us further from
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With this practical view of matters, she kissed Zoe and hurried to bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Zoe scarcely closed her eyes all night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne did not reach the hotel till past eleven o'clock, and went
+      straight to his own room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER X.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      ASHMEAD accompanied Mademoiselle Klosking to her apartment. It was
+      lighted, and the cloth laid for supper under the chandelier, a snow-white
+      Hamburg damask. Ashmead took the winnings out of his pocket, and proudly
+      piled the gold and crumpled notes in one prodigious mass upon the linen,
+      that shone like satin, and made the gold look doubly inviting. Then he
+      drew back and gloated on it. The Klosking, too, stood and eyed the pile of
+      wealth with amazement and a certain reverence. &ldquo;Let me count it,&rdquo; said
+      Ashmead. He did so, and it came to four thousand nine hundred and
+      eighty-one pounds, English money. &ldquo;And to think,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;if you had
+      taken my advice you would not have a penny of this!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll take your advice now,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;I will never gamble again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, take my advice, and lock up the swag before a creature sees it.
+      Homburg is full of thieves.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She complied, and took away the money in a napkin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead called after her to know might he order supper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you will be so kind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead rejoiced at this unguarded permission, and ordered a supper that
+      made Karl stare.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Klosking returned in about half an hour, clad in a crisp <i>peignoir.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead confronted her. &ldquo;I have ordered a bottle of champagne,&rdquo; said he.
+      Her answer surprised him. &ldquo;You have done well. We must now begin to prove
+      the truth of the old proverb, 'Ce qui vient de la flute s'en va au
+      tambour.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At supper Mr. Ashmead was the chief drinker, and, by a natural
+      consequence, the chief speaker: he held out brilliant prospects; he
+      favored the Klosking with a discourse on advertising. No talent availed
+      without it; large posters, pictures, window-cards, etc.; but as her talent
+      was superlative, he must now endeavor to keep up with it by invention in
+      his line&mdash;the puff circumstantial, the puff poetic, the puff
+      anecdotal, the puff controversial, all tending to blow the fame of the
+      Klosking in every eye, and ring it in every ear. &ldquo;You take my advice,&rdquo;
+       said he, &ldquo;and devote this money, every penny of it, to Publicity. Don't
+      you touch a single shiner for anything that does not return a hundred per
+      cent. Publicity does, when the article is prime.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You forget,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;this money does not all belong to me. Another can
+      claim half; the gentleman with whom we are in partnership.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead looked literally blue. &ldquo;Nonsense!&rdquo; said he, roughly. &ldquo;He can only
+      claim his fifty pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, my friend. I took two equal sums: one was his, one mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That has nothing to do with it. He told me to bet for him. I didn't; and
+      I shall take him back his fifty pounds and say so. I know where to find
+      him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is my business. Don't you go mad now, and break my heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, my friend, we will talk of it tomorrow morning. It certainly is not
+      very clear; and perhaps, after I have prayed and slept, I may see more
+      plainly what is right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead observed she was pale, and asked her, with concern, if she was
+      ill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not ill,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;but worn out. My friend, I knew not at the time
+      how great was my excitement; but now I am conscious that this afternoon I
+      have lived a week. My very knees give way under me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon this admission, Ashmead hurried her to bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She slept soundly for some hours; but, having once awakened, she fell into
+      a half-sleepless state, and was full of dreams and fancies. These preyed
+      on her so, that she rose and dispatched a servant to Ashmead, with a line
+      in pencil begging him to take an early breakfast with her, at nine
+      o'clock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As soon as ever he came she began upon the topic of last night. She had
+      thought it over, and said, frankly, she was not without hopes the
+      gentleman, if he was really a gentleman, might be contented with something
+      less than half. But she really did not see how she could refuse him some
+      share of her winnings, should he demand it. &ldquo;Think of it,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;The
+      poor man loses&mdash;four hundred pounds, I think you said. Then he says,
+      'Bet you for me,' and goes away, trusting to your honor. His luck changes
+      in my hands. Is he to lose all when he loses, and win nothing when he
+      wins, merely because I am so fortunate as to win much? However, we shall
+      hear what <i>he</i> says. You gave him your address.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I said I was at 'The Golden Star,'&rdquo; growled Ashmead, in a tone that
+      plainly showed he was vexed with himself for being so communicative.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then he will pay us a visit as soon as he hears: so I need give myself no
+      further trouble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should you? Wait till he comes,&rdquo; said crafty Ashmead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina Klosking colored. She felt her friend was tempting her, and felt she
+      was not quite beyond the power of temptation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What was he like?&rdquo; said she, to turn the conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The handsomest young fellow I ever saw.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Young, of course?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, quite a boy. At least, he looked a boy. To be sure, his talk was not
+      like a boy's; very precocious, I should say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a pity, to begin gambling so young!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, he is all right. If he loses every farthing of his own, he will marry
+      money. Any woman would have him. You never saw such a curled darling.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dark or fair?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fair. Pink-and-white, like a girl; a hand like a lady.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed. Fine eyes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Splendid!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What color?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know. Lord bless you, a man does not examine another man's eyes,
+      like you ladies. However, now I think of it, there was one curious thing I
+      should know him by anywhere.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what was that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you see, his hair was brown; but just above the forehead he had got
+      one lock that was like your own&mdash;gold itself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While he said this, the Klosking's face underwent the most rapid and
+      striking changes, and at last she sat looking at him wildly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was some time before he noticed her, and then he was quite alarmed at
+      her strange expression. &ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Are you ill?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, no. Only a little&mdash;astonished. Such a thing as that is very
+      rare.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That it is. I never saw a case before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not one, in all your life?&rdquo; asked she, eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, no; not that I remember.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excuse me a minute,&rdquo; said Ina Klosking, and went hurriedly from the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead thought her manner very strange, but concluded she was a little
+      unhinged by yesterday's excitement. Moreover, there faced him an omelet of
+      enormous size, and savory. He thought this worthy to divide a man's
+      attention even with the great creature's tantrums. He devoted himself to
+      it, and it occupied him so agreeably that he did not observe the conduct
+      of Mademoiselle Klosking on her return. She placed three photographs
+      softly on the table, not very far from him, and then resumed her seat; but
+      her eye never left him: and she gave monosyllabic and almost impatient
+      replies to everything he mumbled with his mouth full of omelet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he had done his omelet, he noticed the photographs. They were all
+      colored. He took one up. It was an elderly woman, sweet, venerable, and
+      fair-haired. He looked at Ina, and at the photograph, and said, &ldquo;This is
+      your mother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is angelic&mdash;as might be expected.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took up another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is your brother, I suppose. Stop. Haloo!&mdash;what is this? Are my
+      eyes making a fool of me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He held out the photograph at arm's length, and stared from it to her.
+      &ldquo;Why, madam,&rdquo; said he, in an awestruck voice, &ldquo;this is the gentleman&mdash;the
+      player&mdash;I'd swear to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina started from her seat while he spoke. &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;I thought so&mdash;my
+      Edward!&rdquo; and sat down, trembling violently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead ran to her, and sprinkled water in her face, for she seemed ready
+      to faint: but she murmured, &ldquo;No, no!&rdquo; and soon the color rushed into her
+      face, and she clasped her hands together, and cried, &ldquo;I have found him!&rdquo;
+       and soon the storm of varying emotions ended in tears that gave her
+      relief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a long time before she spoke; but when she did, her spirit and her
+      natural strength of character took the upper hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is he?&rdquo; said she, firmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He told me he was at the 'Russie.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We will go there at once. When is the next train?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead looked at his watch. &ldquo;In ten minutes. We can hardly do it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, we can. Order a carriage this instant. I will be ready in one
+      minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They caught the train, and started.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they glided along, Ashmead begged her not to act too hurriedly, and
+      expose herself to insult.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who will dare insult me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody, I hope. Still, I cannot bear you to go into a strange hotel
+      hunting this man. It is monstrous; but I am afraid you will not be
+      welcome. Something has just occurred to me; the reason he ran off so
+      suddenly was, he saw you coming. There was a mirror opposite. Ah, we need
+      not have feared he would come back for his winnings. Idiot&mdash;villain!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You stab me to the heart,&rdquo; said Ina. &ldquo;He ran away at sight of me? Ah,
+      Jesu, pity me! What have I done to him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Honest Ashmead had much ado not to blubber at this patient cry of anguish,
+      though the woman herself shed no tear just then. But his judgment was
+      undimmed by passion, and he gave her the benefit. &ldquo;Take my advice,&rdquo; said
+      he, &ldquo;and work it this way. Come in a close carriage to the side street
+      that is nearest the Russie. I'll go in to the hotel and ask for him by his
+      name&mdash;what is his name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Edward Severne.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And say that I was afraid to stake his money, but a friend of mine, that
+      is a bold player, undertook it, and had a great run of luck. 'There is
+      money owing you,' says I, 'and my friend has brought it.' Then he is sure
+      to come. You will have your veil down, I'll open the carriage-door, and
+      tell him to jump in, and, when you have got him you must make him hear
+      reason. I'll give you a good chance&mdash;I'll shut the carriage-door.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina smiled at his ingenuity&mdash;her first smile that day. &ldquo;You are
+      indeed a friend,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;He fears reproaches, but, when he finds he is
+      welcome, he will stay with me; and he shall have money to play with, and
+      amuse himself how he likes. I kept too tight a rein on him, poor fellow!
+      My good mother taught me prudence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but,&rdquo; said Ashmead, &ldquo;you must promise me one thing: not to let him
+      know how much money you have won, and not to go, like a goose, and give
+      him a lot at once. It never pays to part with power in this wicked world.
+      You give him twenty pounds a day to play with whenever he is cleaned out.
+      Then the money will last your time, and he will never leave you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, how cold-hearted and wise you are!&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;But such a humiliating
+      position for <i>him!&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you be silly. You won't keep him any other way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will be as wise as I can,&rdquo; sighed Ina. &ldquo;I have had a bitter lesson.
+      Only bring him to me, and then, who knows? I am a change: my love may
+      revive his, and none of these pitiable precautions may be needed. They
+      would lower us both.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead groaned aloud. &ldquo;I see,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;He'll soon clean you out. Ah,
+      well! he can't rob you of your voice, and he can't rob you of your
+      Ashmead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They soon reached Frankfort. Ashmead put her into a carriage as agreed,
+      and went to the Russie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina sat, with her veil down, in the carriage, and waited Ashmead's return
+      with Severne. He was a long time coming. She began to doubt, and then to
+      fear, and wonder why he was so long.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last he came in sight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he drew nearer she saw his face was thoroughly downcast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear friend,&rdquo; he faltered, &ldquo;you are out of luck to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He will not come with you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, he would come fast enough, if he was there; but he is gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gone! To Homburg?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Unfortunately, he is gone to England. Went off, by the fast train, an
+      hour ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina fell back in silence, just as if she had been struck in the face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is traveling with an English family, and they have gone straight home.
+      Here are their names. I looked in the visitors' book, and talked to the
+      servant, and all. Mr. Vizard, Miss Vizard&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Vizard?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;Miss Maitland, Miss Dover. See, I wrote them all down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I am unfortunate! Why was I ever born?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't say that, don't say that. It is annoying: but we shall be able to
+      trace him now; and, besides, I see other ways of getting hold of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina broke in upon his talk. &ldquo;Take me to the nearest church,&rdquo; she cried.
+      &ldquo;Man's words are vain. Ah, Jesu, let me cry to thee!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took her to the nearest church. She went in, and prayed for full two
+      hours. She came out, pale and listless, and Ashmead got her home how he
+      could. Her very body seemed all crushed and limp. Ashmead left her, sad at
+      heart himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So long as she was in sight Ashmead could think only of her misery: but
+      the moment she was out of sight, he remembered the theater. She was
+      announced for Rosina that very night. He saw trouble of all sorts before
+      him. He ran to the theater, in great alarm, and told the manager she had
+      been taken very ill. He must change the bill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Impossible!&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;If she can't sing, I close.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead went back to &ldquo;The Star.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina was in her bedroom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sent in a line, &ldquo;Can you sing tonight? If not he says he must close.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The reply came back in rather a trembling hand. &ldquo;I suffer too much by
+      falsehood to break faith myself. I shall pray till night: and then I shall
+      sing. If I die on the stage, all the better for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Was not this a great soul?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XI.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THAT same morning our English party snatched a hasty breakfast in
+      traveling attire. Severne was not there; but sent word to Vizard he should
+      be there in time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This filled the cup. Zoe's wounded pride had been rising higher and higher
+      all the night, and she came down rather pale, from broken rest, and
+      sternly resolved. She had a few serious words with Fanny, and sketched her
+      out a little map of conduct, which showed that she had thought the matter
+      well over.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But her plan bid fair to be deranged: Severne was not at the station: then
+      came a change. Zoe was restless, and cast anxious glances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But at the second bell he darted into the carriage, as if he had just
+      dispatched some wonderful business to get there in time. While the train
+      was starting, he busied himself in arranging his things; but, once
+      started, he put on his sunny look and prepared to be, as usual, the life
+      and soul of the party.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, for once, he met a frost. Zoe was wrapped in impenetrable <i>hauteur,</i>
+      and Fanny in polite indifference. Never was loss of favor more ably marked
+      without the least ill-breeding, and no good handle given to seek an
+      explanation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No doubt a straightforward man, with justice on his side, would have asked
+      them plumply whether he had been so unfortunate as to offend, and how; and
+      this was what Zoe secretly wished, however she might seem to repel it. But
+      Severne was too crafty for that. He had learned the art of waiting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a few efforts at conversation and smooth rebuffs, he put on a
+      surprised, mortified, and sorrowful air, and awaited the attack, which he
+      felt would come soon or late.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This skillful inertia baffled the fair, in a man; in a woman, they might
+      have expected it; and, after a few hours, Zoe's patience began to wear
+      out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The train stopped for twenty minutes, and, even while they were snatching
+      a little refreshment, the dark locks and the blonde came very close
+      together; and Zoe, exasperated by her own wounded pride and the sullen
+      torpor of her lover, gave Fanny fresh instructions, which nobody was
+      better qualified to carry out than that young lady, as nobody was better
+      able to baffle female strategy than the gentleman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This time, however, the ladies had certain advantages, to balance his
+      subtlety and his habit of stating anything, true or false, that suited his
+      immediate purpose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They opened very cat-like. Fanny affected to be outgrowing her ill-humor,
+      and volunteered a civil word or two to Severne. Thereupon Zoe turned
+      sharply away from Fanny, as if she disapproved her conduct, and took a
+      book. This was pretty sly, and done, I suppose, to remove all idea of
+      concert between the fair assailants; whereas it was a secret signal for
+      the concert to come into operation, it being Fanny's part to play upon
+      Severne, and Zoe's to watch, from her corner, every lineament of his face
+      under fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By-the-way, Mr. Severne,&rdquo; said Fanny, apropos of a church on a hill they
+      were admiring, &ldquo;did you get your winnings?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My winnings! You are sarcastical.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Am I? Really I did not intend to be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; forgive me; but that did seem a little cruel. Miss Dover, I was a
+      heavy loser.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not while we were there. The lady and gentleman who played with your
+      money won, oh, such a deal!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The devil they did!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Did you not stay behind, last night, to get it? We never saw you at
+      the Russie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was very ill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bleeding at the nose?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. That always relieves me when it comes. I am subject to fainting fits:
+      once I lay insensible so long they were going to bury me. Now, do pray
+      tell me what makes you fancy anybody won a lot with my money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I will. You know you left fifty pounds for a friend to bet with.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne stared; but was too eager for information to question her how she
+      knew this. &ldquo;Yes, I did,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you really don't know what followed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good heavens! how can I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, as you ran out&mdash;to faint, Mademoiselle Klosking came in,
+      just as she did at the opera, you know, the time before, when you ran out&mdash;to
+      bleed. She slipped into your chair, the very moment you left it; and your
+      friend with the flaming neck-tie told her you had set him to bet with your
+      money. By-the-by, Mr. Severne, how on earth do you and Mademoiselle
+      Klosking, who have both so much taste in dress, come to have a mutual
+      friend, vulgarity in person, with a velveteen coat and an impossible
+      neck-tie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you talking about, Miss Dover? I do just know Mademoiselle
+      Klosking; I met her in society in Vienna, two years ago: but that cad I
+      commissioned to bet for me I never saw before in my life. You are keeping
+      me on tenter-hooks. My money&mdash;my money&mdash;my money! If you have a
+      heart in your bosom, tell me what became of my money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was violent, for the first time since they had known him, and his eyes
+      flashed fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Fanny, beginning to be puzzled and rather frightened, &ldquo;this
+      man, who you <i>say</i> was a new acquaintance&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whom I <i>say?</i> Do you mean to tell me I am a liar?&rdquo; He fumbled
+      eagerly in his breast-pocket, and produced a card. &ldquo;There,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;this
+      is the card he gave me, 'Mr. Joseph Ashmead.' Now, may this train dash
+      over the next viaduct, and take you and Miss Vizard to heaven, and me to
+      hell, if I ever saw Mr. Joseph Ashmead's face before. THE MONEY!&mdash;THE
+      MONEY!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He uttered this furiously, and, it is a curious fact; but Zoe turned red,
+      and Fanny pale. It was really in quite a cowed voice Miss Dover went on to
+      say, &ldquo;La! don't fly out like that. Well, then, the man refused to bet with
+      your money; so then Mademoiselle Klosking said she would; and she played&mdash;oh,
+      how she did play! She doubled, and doubled, and doubled, hundreds upon
+      hundreds. She made a mountain of gold and a pyramid of bank-notes; and she
+      never stopped till she broke the bank&mdash;there!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With my money?&rdquo; gasped Severne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; with your money. Your friend with the loud tie pocketed it; I beg
+      your pardon, not your friend&mdash;only hers. Harrington says he is her <i>cher
+      ami.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The money is mine!&rdquo; he shrieked. &ldquo;I don't care who played with it, it is
+      mine. And the fellow had the impudence to send me back my fifty pounds to
+      the Russie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! you gave him your address?&rdquo; this with an involuntary glance of
+      surprise at Zoe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. Do you think I leave a man fifty pounds to play with, and
+      don't give him my address? He has won thousands with my money, and sent me
+      back my fifty, for a blind, the thief!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, really it is too bad,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;But, there&mdash;I'm afraid you
+      must make the best of it. Of course, their sending back your fifty pounds
+      shows they mean to keep their winnings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You talk like a woman,&rdquo; said he; then, grinding his teeth, and stretching
+      out a long muscular arm, he said, &ldquo;I'll take the blackguard by the throat
+      and tear it out of him, though I tear his life out along with it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      All this time Zoe had been looking at him with concern, and even with
+      admiration. He seemed more beautiful than ever, to her, under the
+      influence of passion, and more of a man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Severne,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;be calm. Fanny has misled you, without intending
+      it. She did not hear all that passed between those two; I did. The
+      velveteen and neck-tie man refused to bet with your money. It was
+      Mademoiselle Klosking who bet, and with her own money. She took
+      twenty-five pounds of her own, and twenty-five pounds of yours, and won
+      two or three hundred in a few moments. Surely, as a gentleman, you cannot
+      ask a lady to do more than repay you your twenty-five pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne was a little cowed by Zoe' s interference. He stood his ground;
+      but sullenly, instead of violently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Vizard, if I were weak enough to trust a lady with my money at a
+      gambling table, I should expect foul play; for I never knew a lady yet who
+      would not cheat <i>at cards,</i> if she could. I trusted my money to a
+      tradesman to bet with. If he takes a female partner, that is no business
+      of mine; he is responsible all the same, and I'll have my money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He jumped up at the word, and looked out at the window; he even fumbled
+      with the door, and tried to open it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had better jump out,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And then they would keep my money for good. No;&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I'll wait for
+      the nearest station.&rdquo; He sunk back into his seat, looking unutterable
+      things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny looked rather rueful at first; then she said, spitefully, &ldquo;You must
+      be very sure of your influence with your old sweetheart. You forget she
+      has got another now&mdash;a tradesman, too. He will stick to the money,
+      and make her stick to it. Their sending the fifty pounds shows that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe's eyes were on him with microscopic power, and, with all his
+      self-command, she saw him wince and change color, and give other signs
+      that this shaft had told in many ways.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He shut his countenance the next moment; but it had opened, and Zoe was on
+      fire with jealousy and suspicion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fluctuating Fanny regretted the turn things had taken. She did not want to
+      lose a pleasant male companion, and she felt sure Zoe would be unhappy,
+      and cross to her, if he went. &ldquo;Surely, Mr. Severne,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;you will
+      not desert us and go back for so small a chance. Why, we are a hundred and
+      fifty miles from Homburg, and all the nearer to dear old England. There,
+      there&mdash;we must be kinder to you, and make you forget this
+      misfortune.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus spoke the trimmer. The reply took her by surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And whose fault is it that I am obliged to get out a hundred and fifty
+      miles from Homburg? You knew all this. You could have got me a delay of a
+      few hours to go and get my due. You know I am a poor man. With all your
+      cleverness, you don't know what made me poor, or you would feel some
+      remorse, perhaps; but you know I am poor when most I could wish I were
+      rich. You have heard that old woman there fling my poverty in my teeth;
+      yet you could keep this from me&mdash;just to assist a cheat and play upon
+      the feelings of a friend. Now, what good has that done you, to inflict
+      misery on me in sport, on a man who never gave you a moment's pain if he
+      could help it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny looked ruefully this way and that, her face began to work, and she
+      laid down her arms, if a lady can be said to do that who lays down a
+      strong weapon and takes up a stronger; in other words, she burst out
+      crying, and said no more. You see, she was poor herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne took no notice of her; he was accustomed to make women cry. He
+      thrust his head out of the window in hopes of seeing a station near, and
+      his whole being was restless as if he would like to jump out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While he was in this condition of mind and body, the hand he had once
+      kissed so tenderly, and shocked Miss Maitland, passed an envelope over his
+      shoulder, with two lines written on it in pencil:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you GO BACK TO HOMBURG, oblige ME BY REMAINING there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This demands an explanation; but it shall be brief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny's shrewd hint, that the money could only be obtained from Mdlle.
+      Klosking, had pierced Zoe through and through. Her mind grasped all that
+      had happened, all that impended, and, wisely declining to try and account
+      for, or reconcile, all the jarring details, she settled, with a woman's
+      broad instinct, that, somehow or other, his going back to Homburg meant
+      going back to Mademoiselle Klosking. Whether that lady would buy him or
+      not, she did not know. But going back to her meant going a journey to see
+      a rival, with consequences illimitable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had courage; she had pride; she had jealousy. She resolved to lose her
+      lover, or have him all to herself. Share him she would not, nor even
+      endure the torture of the doubt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She took an envelope out of her satchel, and with the pencil attached to
+      her chatelaine wrote the fatal words, &ldquo;If you go back to Homburg, oblige
+      me by remaining there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment she was not goaded by pique or any petty feeling. Indeed,
+      his reproach to Fanny had touched her a little, and it was with the tear
+      in her eye she came to the resolution, and handed him that line, which
+      told him she knew her value, and, cost what it might, would part with any
+      man forever rather than share him with the Klosking or any other woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne took the line, eyed it, realized it, fell back from the window,
+      and dropped into his seat. This gave Zoe a consoling sense of power. She
+      had seen her lover raging and restless, and wanting to jump out, yet now
+      beheld him literally felled with a word from her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He leaned his head in his hand in a sort of broken-down, collapsed, dogged
+      way that moved her pity, though hardly her respect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By-and-by it struck her as a very grave thing that he did not reply by
+      word, nor even by look. He could decide with a glance, and why did he
+      hesitate? Was he really balancing her against Mademoiselle Klosking
+      weighted with a share of his winnings?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This doubt was wormwood to her pride and self-respect; but his crushed
+      attitude allayed in some degree the mere irritation his doubt caused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The minutes passed and the miles: still that broken figure sat before her,
+      with his face hidden by his white hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe's courage began to falter. Misgivings seized her. She had made that a
+      matter of love which, after all, to a man, might be a mere matter of
+      business. He was poor, too, and she had thrust her jealousy between him
+      and money. He might have his pride too, and rebel against her affront.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for his thoughts, under that crushed exterior, which he put on for a
+      blind, they were so deliberate and calculating that I shall not mix them
+      on this page with that pure and generous creature's. Another time will do
+      to reveal his sordid arithmetic. As for Zoe, she settled down into
+      wishing, with all her heart, she had not submitted her lover so
+      imperiously to a test, the severity of which she now saw she had
+      underrated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the speed of the train began to slacken&mdash;all too soon. She
+      now dreaded to learn her fate. Was she, or was she not, worth a few
+      thousand pounds ready money?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A signal-post was past, proving that they were about to enter a station.
+      Yet another. Now the wheels were hardly turning. Now the platform was
+      visible. Yet he never moved his white, delicate, womanish fingers from his
+      forehead, but remained still absorbed, and looked undecided.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last the motion entirely ceased. Then, as she turned her head to glean,
+      if possible, the name of the place, he stole a furtive glance at her. She
+      was pallid, agitated. He resolved upon his course.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As soon as the train stopped, he opened the door and jumped out, without a
+      word to Zoe, or even a look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe turned pale as death. &ldquo;I have lost him,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;See, he has not taken his cane and umbrella.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;They</i> will not keep him from flying to his money and her,&rdquo; moaned
+      Zoe. &ldquo;Did you not see? He never once looked at me. He could not. I am sick
+      at heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This set Fanny fluttering. &ldquo;There, let me out to speak to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit quiet,&rdquo; said Zoe, sternly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; no. If you love him&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do love him&mdash;passionately. And <i>therefore</i> I'll die rather
+      than share him with any one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it is dreadful to be fixed here, and not allowed to move hand or
+      foot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the lot of women. Let me feel the hand of a friend, that is all;
+      for I am sick at heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny gave her her hand, and all the sympathy her shallow nature had to
+      bestow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe sat motionless, gripping her friend's hand almost convulsively, a
+      statue of female fortitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This suspense could not last long. The officials ordered the travelers to
+      the carriages; doors were opened and slammed; the engine gave a snort, and
+      only at that moment did Mr. Edward Severne tear the door open and bolt
+      into the carriage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh, it was pitiable, but lovely, to see the blood rush into Zoe's face,
+      and the fire into her eye, and the sweet mouth expand in a smile of joy
+      and triumph!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She sat a moment, almost paralyzed with pleasure, and then cast her eyes
+      down, lest their fire should proclaim her feelings too plainly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for Severne, he only glanced at her as he came in, and then shunned her
+      eye. He presented to her the grave, resolved countenance of a man who has
+      been forced to a decision, but means to abide by it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In reality he was delighted at the turn things had taken. The money was
+      not necessarily lost, since he knew where it was; and Zoe had compromised
+      herself beyond retreating. He intended to wear this anxious face a long
+      while. But his artificial snow had to melt, so real a sun shone full on
+      it. The moment he looked full at Zoe, she repaid him with such a
+      point-blank beam of glorious tenderness and gratitude as made him thrill
+      with passion as well as triumph. He felt her whole heart was his, and from
+      that hour his poverty would never be allowed to weigh with her. He cleared
+      up, and left off acting, because it was superfluous; he had now only to
+      bask in sunshine. Zoe, always tender, but coy till this moment, made love
+      to him like a young goddess. Even Fanny yielded to the solid proof of
+      sincerity he had given, and was downright affectionate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was king. And from one gradation to another, they entered Cologne with
+      Severne seated between the two girls, each with a hand in his, and a great
+      disposition to pet him and spoil him; more than once, indeed, a delicate
+      head just grazed each of his square shoulders; but candor compels me to
+      own that their fatigue and the yawing of the carriage at the time were
+      more to blame than the tired girls; for at the enormity there was a prompt
+      retirement to a distance. Miss Maitland had been a long time in the land
+      of Nod; and Vizard, from the first, had preferred male companions and
+      tobacco.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At Cologne they visited the pride of Germany, that mighty cathedral which
+      the Middle Ages projected, commenced, and left to decay of old age before
+      completion, and our enterprising age will finish; but they departed on the
+      same day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before they reached England, the love-making between Severne and Zoe,
+      though it never passed the bounds of good taste, was so apparent to any
+      female eye that Miss Maitland remonstrated severely with Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the trimmer was now won to the other side. She would not offend Aunt
+      Maitland by owning her conversion. She said, hypocritically, &ldquo;I am afraid
+      it is no use objecting at present, aunt. The attachment is too strong on
+      both sides. And, whether he is poor or not, he has sacrificed his money to
+      her feelings, and so, now, she feels bound in honor. I know her; she won't
+      listen to a word now, aunt: why irritate her? She would quarrel with both
+      of us in a moment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor girl!&rdquo; said Miss Maitland; and took the hint. She had still an arrow
+      in her quiver&mdash;Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In mid-channel, ten miles south of Dover, she caught him in a lucid
+      interval of non-smoke. She reminded, him he had promised her to give Mr.
+      Severne a hint about Zoe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I did,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And have you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, no; to tell the truth, I forgot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then please do it now; for they are going on worse than ever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll warn the fool,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did warn him, and in the following terms:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look here, old fellow. I hear you are getting awfully sweet on my sister
+      Zoe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No answer. Severne on his guard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, you had better mind your eye. She is a very pretty girl, and you may
+      find yourself entangled before you know where you are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne hung his head. &ldquo;Of course, I know it is great presumption in me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Presumption? fiddlestick! Such a man as you are ought not to be tied to
+      any woman, or, if you must be, you ought not to go cheap. Mind, Zoe is a
+      poor girl; only ten thousand in the world. Flirt with whom you like&mdash;there
+      is no harm in that; but don't get seriously entangled with any of them.
+      Good sisters, and good daughters, and good flirts make bad wives.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, then,&rdquo; said Severne, &ldquo;it is only on my account you object.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, principally. And I don't exactly object. I warn. In the first
+      place, as soon as ever we get into Barfordshire, she will most likely jilt
+      you. You may be only her Continental lover. How can I tell, <i>or you
+      either?</i> And if not, and you were to be weak enough to marry her, she
+      would develop unexpected vices directly&mdash;they all do. And you are not
+      rich enough to live in a house of your own; you would have to live in mine&mdash;a
+      fine fate for a rising blade like you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a terrible prospect&mdash;to be tied to the best friend in England
+      as well as the loveliest woman!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, if that is the view you take,&rdquo; said Vizard, beaming with delight, &ldquo;it
+      is no use talking reason to <i>you.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When they reached London, Vizard gave Miss Maitland an outline of this
+      conversation; and, so far from seeing the humor of it, which,
+      nevertheless, was pretty strong and characteristic of the man and his one
+      foible, she took the huff, and would not even stay to dinner at the hotel.
+      She would go into her own county by the next train, bag and baggage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Severne was the only one who offered to accompany her to the Great
+      Western Railway. She declined. He insisted; went with her; got her ticket,
+      numbered and arranged her packages, and saw her safely off, with an air of
+      profound respect and admirably feigned regret.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That she was the dupe of his art, may be doubted: that he lost nothing by
+      it, is certain. Men are not ruined by civility. As soon as she was seated,
+      she said, &ldquo;I beg, sir, you will waste no more time with me. Mr. Severne,
+      you have behaved to me like a gentleman, and that is very unusual in a man
+      of your age nowadays. I cannot alter my opinion about my niece and you:
+      but I <i>am</i> sorry you are a poor gentleman&mdash;much too poor to
+      marry her, and I wish I could make you a rich one; but I cannot. There is
+      my hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      You should have seen the air of tender veneration with which the young
+      Machiavel bowed over her hand, and even imprinted a light touch on it with
+      his velvet lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he retired, disconsolate, and, once out of sight, whipped into a
+      gin-palace and swallowed a quartern of neat brandy, to take the taste out
+      of his mouth. &ldquo;Go it, Ned,&rdquo; said he, to himself; &ldquo;you can't afford to make
+      enemies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old lady went off bitter against the whole party <i>except Mr.
+      Severne;</i> and he retired to his friends, disembarrassed of the one foe
+      he had not turned into a downright friend, but only disarmed. Well does
+      the great Voltaire recommend what he well calls &ldquo;le grand art de plaire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard sent Harris into Barfordshire, to prepare for the comfort of the
+      party; and to light fires in all the bedrooms, though it was summer; and
+      to see the beds, blankets and sheets aired at the very fires of the very
+      rooms they were to be used in. This sacred office he never trusted to a
+      housekeeper; he used even to declare, as the result of experience, that it
+      was beyond the intellect of any woman really to air mattresses, blankets,
+      and sheets&mdash;all three. He had also a printed list he used to show
+      about, of five acquaintances, stout fellows all, whom &ldquo;little bits of
+      women&rdquo; (such was his phraseology) had laid low with damp beds, having
+      crippled two for life with rheumatism and lumbago, and sent three to their
+      long home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime Severne took the ladies to every public attraction by day and
+      night, and Vizard thanked him, before the fair, for his consideration in
+      taking them off his hands; and Severne retorted by thanking him for
+      leaving them on his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It may seem, at first, a vile selection; but I am going to ask the ladies
+      who honor me with their attention to follow, not that gay, amorous party
+      of three, but this solitary cynic on his round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Taking a turn round the garden in Leicester Square, which was new to him,
+      Harrington Vizard's observant eye saw a young lady rise up from a seat to
+      go, but turn pale directly, and sit down again upon the arm of the seat,
+      as if for support.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Halloo!&rdquo; said Vizard, in his blunt way, <i>&ldquo;you</i> are not well. What
+      can I do for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am all right,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;Please go on;&rdquo; the latter words in a tone
+      that implied she was not a novice, and the attentions of gentlemen to
+      strange ladies were suspected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; said Vizard, coolly. &ldquo;You are not all right. You look
+      as if you were going to faint.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, are my lips blue?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; but they are pale.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then it is not a case of fainting. It <i>may</i> be exhaustion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know best. What shall we do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, nothing. Yes; mind our own business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With all my heart; my business just now is to offer you some restorative&mdash;a
+      glass of wine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes! I think I see myself going into a public-house with you.
+      Besides, I don't believe in stimulants. Strength can only enter the human
+      body one way. I know what is the matter with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not obliged to tell <i>you.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you are not obliged; but you might as well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, it is Hunger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hunger!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hunger&mdash;famine&mdash;starvation. Don't you know English?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you are not serious, madam,&rdquo; said Vizard, very gravely. &ldquo;However,
+      if ladies will say such things as that, men with stomachs in their bosoms
+      must act accordingly. Oblige me by taking my arm, as you are weak, and we
+      will adjourn to that eating-house over the way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Much obliged,&rdquo; said the lady, satirically, &ldquo;our acquaintance is not <i>quite</i>
+      long enough for that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at her; a tall, slim, young lady, black merino, by no means new,
+      clean cuffs and collar leaning against the chair for support, and yet
+      sacrificing herself to conventional propriety, and even withstanding him
+      with a pretty little air of defiance that was pitiable, her pallor and the
+      weakness of her body considered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The poor Woman-hater's bowels began to yearn. &ldquo;Look here, you little
+      spitfire,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;if you don't instantly take my arm, I'll catch you up
+      and carry you over, with no more trouble than you would carry a
+      thread-paper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked him up and down very keenly, and at last with a slight
+      expression of feminine approval, the first she had vouchsafed him. Then
+      she folded her arms, and cocked her little nose at him, &ldquo;You daren't. I'll
+      call the police.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you do, I'll tell them you are my little cousin, mad as a March hare:
+      starving, and won't eat. Come, how is it to be?&rdquo; He advanced upon her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can't be in earnest, sir,&rdquo; said she, with sudden dignity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Am I not, though? You don't know <i>me.</i> I am used to be obeyed. If
+      you don't go with me like a sensible girl, I'll carry you&mdash;to your
+      dinner&mdash;like a ruffian.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I'll go&mdash;like a lady,&rdquo; said she, with sudden humility.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He offered her his arm. She passed hers within; but leaned as lightly as
+      possible on it, and her poor pale face was a little pink as they went.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He entered the eating-house, and asked for two portions of cold roast
+      beef, not to keep her waiting. They were brought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; said she, with a subjugated air, &ldquo;will you be so good as cut up the
+      meat small, and pass it to me a bit or two at a time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was surprised, but obeyed her orders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if you could make me talk a little? Because, at sight of the meat so
+      near me, I feel like a tigress&mdash;poor human nature! Sir, I have not
+      eaten meat for a week, nor food of any kind this two days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good God!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I must be prudent. People have gorged themselves with furious eating
+      under those circumstances; that is why I asked you to supply me slowly.
+      Thank you. You need not look at me like that. Better folk than I have <i>died</i>
+      of hunger. Something tells me I have reached the lowest spoke, when I have
+      been indebted to a stranger for a meal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard felt the water come into his eyes; but he resisted that pitiable
+      weakness. &ldquo;Bother that nonsense!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I'll introduce myself, and
+      then you can't throw <i>stranger</i> in my teeth. I am Harrington Vizard,
+      a Barfordshire squire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought you were not a Cockney.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lord forbid! Does that information entitle me to any in return?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know; but, whether or no, my name is Rhoda Gale.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have another plate, Miss Gale?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He ordered another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am proud of your confiding your name to me, Miss Gale; but, to tell the
+      truth, what I wanted to know is how a young lady of your talent and
+      education could be so badly off as you must be. It is not impertinent
+      curiosity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young lady reflected a moment. &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I don't think it is;
+      and I would not much mind telling you. Of course I studied you before I
+      came here. Even hunger would not make me sit in a tavern beside a fool, or
+      a snob, or (with a faint blush) a libertine. But to tell one's own story,
+      that is so egotistical, for one thing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it is never egotistical to oblige.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, that is sophistical. Then, again, I am afraid I could not tell it to
+      you without crying, because you seem rather a manly man, and some of it
+      might revolt you, and you might sympathize right out, and then I should
+      break down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No matter. Do us both good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but before the waiters and people! See how they are staring at us
+      already.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We will have another go in at the beef, and then adjourn to the garden
+      for your narrative.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No: as much garden as you like, but no more beef. I have eaten one
+      sirloin, I reckon. Will you give me one cup of black tea without sugar or
+      milk?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard gave the order.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She seemed to think some explanation necessary, though he did not.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One cup of tea agrees with my brain and nerves,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;It steadies
+      them. That is a matter of individual experience. I should not prescribe it
+      to others any the more for that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard sat wondering at the girl. He said to himself, &ldquo;What is she? A <i>lusus
+      naturoe?&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the tea came, and she had sipped a little, she perked up wonderfully.
+      Said she, &ldquo;Oh, the magic effect of food eaten judiciously! Now I am a
+      lioness, and do not fear the future. Yes; I will tell you my story&mdash;and,
+      if you think you are going to hear a love-story, you will be nicely caught&mdash;ha-ha!
+      No, <i>sir;&rdquo;</i> said she, with rising fervor and heightened color, &ldquo;you
+      will hear a story the public is deeply interested in and does not know it;
+      ay, a story that will certainly be referred to with wonder and shame,
+      whenever civilization shall become a reality, and law cease to be a tool
+      of injustice and monopoly.&rdquo; She paused a moment; then said a little
+      doggedly, as one used to encounter prejudice, &ldquo;I am a medical student; a
+      would-be doctor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so well qualified by genuine gifts, by study from my infancy, by
+      zeal, quick senses, and cultivated judgment, that, were all the leading
+      London physicians examined to-morrow by qualified persons at the same
+      board as myself, most of those wealthy practitioners&mdash;not all, mind
+      you&mdash;would cut an indifferent figure in modern science compared with
+      me, whom you have had to rescue from starvation&mdash;because I am a
+      woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her eye flashed. But she moderated herself, and said, &ldquo;That is the
+      outline; and it is a grievance. Now, grievances are bores. You can escape
+      this one before it is too late.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If it lies with me, I demand the minutest details,&rdquo; said Vizard, warmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You shall have them; and true to the letter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard settled the small account, and adjourned, with his companion, to
+      the garden. She walked by his side, with her face sometimes thoughtfully
+      bent on the ground, and sometimes confronting him with ardor, and told him
+      a true story, the simplicity of which I shall try not to spoil with any
+      vulgar arts of fiction.
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      A LITTLE NARRATIVE OF DRY FACTS TOLD TO A WOMAN-HATER BY A WOMAN.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My father was an American, my mother English. I was born near Epsom and
+      lived there ten years. Then my father had property left him in
+      Massachusetts, and we went to Boston. Both my parents educated me, and
+      began very early. I observe that most parents are babies at teaching,
+      compared with mine. My father was a linguist, and taught me to lisp
+      German, French, and English; my mother was an ideaed woman: she taught me
+      three rarities&mdash;attention, observation, and accuracy. If I went a
+      walk in the country, I had to bring her home a budget: the men and women
+      on the road, their dresses, appearance, countenances, and words; every
+      kind of bird in the air, and insect and chrysalis in the hedges; the crops
+      in the fields, the flowers and herbs on the banks. If I walked in the
+      town, I must not be eyes and no eyes; woe betide me if I could only report
+      the dresses! Really, I have known me, when I was but eight, come home to
+      my mother laden with details, when perhaps an untrained girl of eighteen
+      could only have specified that she had gone up and down a thoroughfare.
+      Another time mother would take me on a visit: next day, or perhaps next
+      week, she would expect me to describe every article of furniture in her
+      friend's room, and the books on the table, and repeat the conversation,
+      the topics at all events. She taught me to master history <i>accurately.</i>
+      To do this she was artful enough to turn sport into science. She utilized
+      a game: young people in Boston play it. A writes an anecdote on paper, or
+      perhaps produces it in print. She reads it off to B. B goes away, and
+      writes it down by memory; then reads her writing out to C. C has to
+      listen, and convey her impression to paper. This she reads to D, and D
+      goes and writes it. Then the original story and D's version are compared;
+      and, generally speaking, the difference of the two is a caution&mdash;against
+      oral tradition. When the steps of deviation are observed, it is quite a
+      study.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My mother, with her good wit, saw there was something better than fun to
+      be got out of this. She trained my memory of great things with it. She
+      began with striking passages of history, and played the game with father
+      and me. But as my power of retaining, and repeating correctly, grew by
+      practice, she enlarged the business, and kept enriching my memory, so that
+      I began to have tracts of history at my fingers' ends. As I grew older,
+      she extended the sport to laws and the great public controversies in
+      religion, politics, and philosophy that have agitated the world. But here
+      she had to get assistance from her learned friends. She was a woman valued
+      by men of intellect, and she had no mercy&mdash;milked jurists,
+      physicians, and theologians and historians all into my little pail. To be
+      sure, they were as kind about it as she was unscrupulous. They saw I was a
+      keen student, and gave my mother many a little gem in writing. She read
+      them out to me: I listened hard, and thus I fixed many great and good
+      things in my trained memory; and repeated them against the text: I was
+      never allowed to see <i>that.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With this sharp training, school subjects were child's play to me, and I
+      won a good many prizes very easily. My mother would not let me waste a
+      single minute over music. She used to say 'Music extracts what little
+      brains a girl has. Open the piano, you shut the understanding.' I am
+      afraid I bore you with my mother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all, not at all. I admire her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, thank you! thank you, sir! She never uses big words; so it is only of
+      late I have had the <i>nous</i> to see how wise she is. She corrected the
+      special blots of the female character in me, and it is sweet to me to talk
+      of that dear friend. What would I give to see her here!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, sir, she made me, as far as she could, a&mdash;what shall I
+      say? a kind of little intellectual gymnast, fit to begin any study; but
+      she left me to choose my own line. Well, I was for natural history first;
+      began like a girl; gathered wild flowers and simples at Epsom, along with
+      an old woman; she discoursed on their traditional virtues, and knew little
+      of their real properties: <i>that</i> I have discovered since.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From herbs to living things; never spared a chrysalis, but always took it
+      home and watched it break into wings. Hung over the ponds in June,
+      watching the eggs of the frog turn to tadpoles, and the tadpoles to Johnny
+      Crapaud. I obeyed Scripture in one thing, for I studied the ants and their
+      ways.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I collected birds' eggs. At nine, not a boy in the parish could find more
+      nests in a day than I could. With birdnesting, buying, and now and then
+      begging, I made a collection that figures in a museum over the water, and
+      is entitled 'Eggs of British Birds.' The colors attract, and people always
+      stop at it. But it does no justice whatever to the great variety of
+      sea-birds' eggs on the coast of Britain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I had learned what little they teach in schools, especially drawing,
+      and that is useful in scientific pursuits, I was allowed to choose my own
+      books, and attend lectures. One blessed day I sat and listened to Agassiz&mdash;ah!
+      No tragedy well played, nor opera sung, ever moved a heart so deeply as he
+      moved mine, that great and earnest man, whose enthusiasm for nature was as
+      fresh as my own, and his knowledge a thousand times larger. Talk of heaven
+      opening to the Christian pilgrim as he passes Jordan! Why, God made earth
+      as well as heaven, and it is worthy of the Architect; and it is a joy
+      divine when earth opens to the true admirer of God's works. Sir, earth
+      opened to me, as Agassiz discoursed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I followed him about like a little bloodhound, and dived into the
+      libraries after each subject he treated or touched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was another little epoch in my life when I read 'White's Letters to
+      Pennant' about natural history in Selborne. Selborne is an English
+      village, not half so pretty as most; and, until Gilbert White came, nobody
+      saw anything there worth printing. His book showed me that the humblest
+      spot in nature becomes extraordinary the moment extraordinary observation
+      is applied to it. I must mimic Gilbert White directly. I pestered my poor
+      parents to spend a month or two in the depths of the country, on the verge
+      of a forest. They yielded, with groans; I kissed them, and we rusticated.
+      I pried into every living thing, not forgetting my old friends, the insect
+      tribe. Here I found ants with grander ideas than they have to home, and
+      satisfied myself they have more brains than apes. They co-operate more,
+      and in complicated things. Sir, there are ants that make greater marches,
+      for their size, than Napoleon's invasion of Russia. Even the less nomad
+      tribes will march through fields of grass, where each blade is a high
+      gum-tree to them, and never lose the track. I saw an army of red ants,
+      with generals, captains, and ensigns, start at daybreak, march across a
+      road, through a hedge, and then through high grass till noon, and surprise
+      a fortification of black ants, and take it after a sanguinary resistance.
+      All that must have been planned beforehand, you know, and carried out to
+      the letter. Once I found a colony busy on some hard ground, preparing an
+      abode. I happened to have been microscoping a wasp, so I threw him down
+      among the ants. They were disgusted. They ran about collecting opinions.
+      Presently half of them burrowed into the earth below and undermined him,
+      till he lay on a crust of earth as thin as a wafer, and a deep grave
+      below. Then they all got on him except one, and He stood pompous on a
+      pebble, and gave orders. The earth broke&mdash;the wasp went down into his
+      grave&mdash;and the ants soon covered him with loose earth, and resumed
+      their domestic architecture. I concluded that though the monkey resembles
+      man most in body, the ant comes nearer him in mind. As for dogs, I don't
+      know where to rank them in <i>nature,</i> because they have been pupils of
+      man for centuries. I bore you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, I do: an enthusiast is always a bore. 'Les facheux,' of Moliere
+      are just enthusiasts. Well, sir, in one word, I was a natural philosopher&mdash;very
+      small, but earnest; and, in due course, my studies brought me to the
+      wonders of the human body. I studied the outlines of anatomy in books, and
+      plates, and prepared figures; and from that, by degrees, I was led on to
+      surgery and medicine&mdash;in books, you understand; and they are only
+      half the battle. Medicine is a thing one can do. It is a noble science, a
+      practical science, and a subtle science, where I thought my powers of
+      study and observation might help me to be keen at reading symptoms, and do
+      good to man, and be a famous woman; so I concluded to benefit mankind and
+      myself. Stop! that sounds like self-deception. It must have been myself
+      and mankind I concluded to benefit. Anyway, I pestered that small section
+      of mankind which consisted of my parents, until they consented to let me
+      study medicine in Europe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, all by yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Oh, girls are very independent in the States, and govern the old
+      people. Mine said 'No' a few dozen times; but they were bound to end in
+      'Yes,' and I went to Zurich. I studied hard there, and earned the
+      approbation of the professors. But the school deteriorated; too many
+      ladies poured in from Russia: some were not in earnest, and preferred
+      flirting to study, and did themselves no good, and made the male students
+      idle, and wickeder than ever&mdash;if possible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What else could you expect?&rdquo; said Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing else from <i>unpicked</i> women. But when all the schools in
+      Europe shall be open&mdash;as they ought to be, and must, and shall&mdash;there
+      will be no danger of shallow girls crowding to any particular school.
+      Besides, there will be a more strict and rapid routine of examination then
+      to sift out the female flirts and the male dunces along with them, I hope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir, we few, that really meant medicine, made inquiries, and heard
+      of a famous old school in the south of France, where women had graduated
+      of old; and two of us went there to try&mdash;an Italian lady and myself.
+      We carried good testimonials from Zurich, and, not to frighten the
+      Frenchmen at starting, I attacked them alone. Cornelia was my elder, and
+      my superior in attainments. She was a true descendant of those learned
+      ladies who have adorned the chairs of philosophy, jurisprudence, anatomy,
+      and medicine in her native country; but she has the wisdom of the serpent,
+      as well as of the sage; and she put me forward because of my red hair. She
+      said that would be a passport to the dark philosophers of France.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was not that rather foxy, Miss Gale?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Foxy as my hair itself, Mr. Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I applied to a professor. He received me with profound courtesy and
+      feigned respect, but was staggered at my request to matriculate. He
+      gesticulated and bowed <i>'a la Francaise,</i> and begged the permission
+      of his foxy-haired invader from Northern climes to consult his colleagues.
+      Would I do him the great honor to call again next day at twelve? I did and
+      met three other polished authorities. One spoke for all, and said, If I
+      had not brought with me proofs of serious study, they should have
+      dissuaded me very earnestly from a science I could not graduate in without
+      going through practical courses of anatomy and clinical surgery. That,
+      however (with a regular French shrug), was my business, not theirs. It was
+      not for them to teach me delicacy, but rather to learn it from me. That
+      was a French sneer. The French are <i>un gens moqueur,</i> you know. I
+      received both shrug and sneer like marble. He ended it all by saying the
+      school had no written law excluding doctresses; and the old records proved
+      women had graduated, and even lectured, there. I had only to pay my fees,
+      and enter upon my routine of studies. So I was admitted on sufferance; but
+      I soon earned the good opinion of the professors, and of this one in
+      particular; and then Cornelia applied for admission, and was let in too.
+      We lived together, and had no secrets; and I think, sir, I may venture to
+      say that we showed some little wisdom, if you consider our age, and all
+      that was done to spoil us. As to parrying their little sly attempts at
+      flirtation, that is nothing; we came prepared. But, when our
+      fellow-students found we were in earnest, and had high views, the
+      chivalrous spirit of a gallant nation took fire, and they treated us with
+      a delicate reverence that might have turned any woman's head. But we had
+      the credit of a sneered-at sex to keep up, and felt our danger, and warned
+      each other; and I remember I told Cornelia how many young ladies in the
+      States I had seen puffed up by the men's extravagant homage, and become
+      spoiled children, and offensively arrogant and discourteous; so I
+      entreated her to check those vices in me the moment she saw them coming.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When we had been here a year, attending all the lectures&mdash;clinical
+      medicine and surgery included&mdash;news came that one British school,
+      Edinburgh, had shown symptoms of yielding to Continental civilization and
+      relaxing monopoly. That turned me North directly. My mother is English: I
+      wanted to be a British doctress, not a French. Cornelia had misgivings,
+      and even condescended to cry over me. But I am a mule, and always was.
+      Then that dear friend made terms with me: I must not break off my
+      connection with the French school, she said. No; she had thought it well
+      over; I must ask leave of the French professors to study in the North, and
+      bring back notes about those distant Thulians. Says she, 'Your studies in
+      that savage island will be allowed to go for something here, if you
+      improve your time&mdash;and you will be sure to, sweetheart&mdash;that I
+      may be always proud of you.' Dear Cornelia!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Am I to believe all this?&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;Can women be such true friends?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What cannot women be? What! are you one of those who take us for a <i>clique?</i>
+      Don't you know more than half mankind are women?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alas!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alas for them!&rdquo; said Rhoda, sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, well,&rdquo; said Vizard, putting on sudden humility, &ldquo;don't let us
+      quarrel. I hate quarreling&mdash;where I'm sure to get the worst. Ay,
+      friendship is a fine thing, in men or women; a far nobler sentiment than
+      love. You will not admit that, of course, being a woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, I will,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;Why, I have observed love attentively; and I
+      pronounce it a fever of the mind. It disturbs the judgment and perverts
+      the conscience. You side with the beloved, right or wrong. What personal
+      degradation! I observe, too, that a grand passion is a grand misfortune:
+      they are always in a storm of hope, fears, doubt, jealousy, rapture, rage,
+      and the end deceit, or else satiety. Friendship is steady and peaceful;
+      not much jealousy, no heart-burnings. It strengthens with time, and
+      survives the small-pox and a wooden leg. It doubles our joys, and divides
+      our grief, and lights and warms our lives with a steady flame. <i>Solem e
+      mundo tollunt, qui tollunt amicitiam.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Halloo!&rdquo; cried Vizard. &ldquo;What! you know Latin too?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course&mdash;a smattering; or how could I read Pliny, and Celsus,
+      and ever so much more rubbish that custom chucks down before the gates of
+      knowledge, and says, 'There&mdash;before you go the right road, you ought
+      to go the wrong; <i>it is usual.</i> Study now, with the reverence they
+      don't deserve, the non-observers of antiquity.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Spare me the ancients, Miss Gale,&rdquo; said Vizard, &ldquo;and reveal me the girl
+      of the period. When I was so ill-bred as to interrupt you, you had left
+      France, crowned with laurels, and were just invading Britain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Something in his words or his tone discouraged the subtle observer, and
+      she said, coldly, &ldquo;Excuse me: I have hardly the courage. My British
+      history is a tale of injustice, suffering, insult, and, worst of all,
+      defeat. I cannot promise to relate it with that composure whoever pretends
+      to science ought: the wound still bleeds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Vizard was vexed with himself, and looked grave and concerned. He
+      said, gently, &ldquo;Miss Gale, I am sorry to give you pain; but what you have
+      told me is so new and interesting, I shall be disappointed if you withhold
+      the rest: besides, you know it gives no lasting pain to relate our griefs.
+      Come, come&mdash;be brave, and tell me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I will,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;Indeed, some instinct moves me. Good may come
+      of my telling it you. I think&mdash;somehow&mdash;you are&mdash;a&mdash;just&mdash;man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the act of saying this, she fixed her gray eyes steadily and
+      searchingly upon Vizard's face, so that he could scarcely meet them, they
+      were so powerful; then, suddenly, the observation seemed to die out of
+      them, and reflection to take its place: those darting eyes were turned
+      inward. It was a marked variety of power. There was something wizard-like
+      in the vividness with which two distinct mental processes were presented
+      by the varied action of a single organ; and Vizard then began to suspect
+      that a creature stood before him with a power of discerning and digesting
+      truth, such as he had not yet encountered either in man or woman. She
+      entered on her British adventures in her clear silvery voice. It was not,
+      like Ina Klosking's, rich, and deep, and tender; yet it had a certain
+      gentle beauty to those who love truth, because it was dispassionate, yet
+      expressive, and cool, yet not cold. One might call it truth's silver
+      trumpet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the brink of an extraordinary passage, I pause to make no fewer than
+      three remarks in my own person: 1st. Let no reader of mine allow himself
+      to fancy Rhoda Gale and her antecedents are a mere excrescence of my
+      story. She was rooted to it even before the first scene of it&mdash;the
+      meeting of Ashmead and the Klosking&mdash;and this will soon appear. 2d.
+      She is now going into a controverted matter; and, though she is sincere
+      and truthful, she is of necessity a <i>partisan.</i> Do not take her for a
+      judge. You be the judge. 3d. But, as a judge never shuts his mind to
+      either side, do not refuse her a fair hearing. Above all, do not underrate
+      the question. Let not the balance of your understanding be so upset by
+      ephemeral childishness as to fancy that it matters much whether you break
+      an egg top or bottom, because Gulliver's two nations went to war about it;
+      or that it matters much whether your queen is called queen of India or
+      empress, because two parties made a noise about it, and the country has
+      wasted ten thousand square miles of good paper on the subject, trivial as
+      the dust on a butterfly's wing. Fight against these illusions of petty and
+      ephemeral minds. It does not matter the millionth of a straw to <i>mankind</i>
+      whether any one woman is called queen, or empress, of India; and it
+      matters greatly to mankind whether the whole race of women are to be
+      allowed to study medicine and practice it, if they can rival the male, or
+      are to be debarred from testing their scientific ability, and so outlawed,
+      <i>though taxed</i> in defiance of British liberty, and all justice, human
+      and divine, by eleven hundred lawgivers&mdash;most of 'em fools.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;WHEN I reached Great Britain, the right of women to medicine was in this
+      condition&mdash;a learned lawyer explained it carefully to me. I will give
+      you his words: The unwritten law of every nation admits all mankind, and
+      not the male half only, to the study and practice of medicine and the sale
+      of drugs. In Great Britain this law is called the common law and is deeply
+      respected. Whatever liberty it allows to men or women is held sacred in
+      our courts until <i>directly</i> and <i>explicitly</i> withdrawn by some
+      act of the Legislature. Under this ancient liberty, women have
+      occasionally practiced general medicine and surgery up to the year 1858.
+      But for centuries they <i>monopolized,</i> by custom, one branch of
+      practice, the obstetric; and that, together with the occasional treatment
+      of children, and the nursing of both sexes, which is semi-medical, and is
+      their <i>monopoly,</i> seems, on the whole, to have contented them, till
+      late years, when their views were enlarged by wider education and other
+      causes. But their abstinence from general practice, like their monopoly of
+      obstetrics, lay with women themselves, and not with the law of England.
+      That law is the same in this respect as the common law of Italy and
+      France; and the constitution of Bologna, where so many doctresses have
+      filled the chairs of medicine and other sciences, makes no more direct
+      provision for female students than does the constitution of any Scotch or
+      English university.&mdash;The whole thing lay with the women themselves,
+      and with local civilization. Years ago, Italy was far more civilized than
+      England; so Italian women took a large sphere. Of late the Anglo-Saxon has
+      gone in for civilization with his usual energy, and is eclipsing Italy;
+      therefore his women aspire to larger spheres of intellect and action,
+      beginning in the States, because American women are better educated than
+      English. The advance of <i>women</i> in useful attainments is the most
+      infallible sign in any country of advancing civilization. All this about
+      civilization is my observation, sir, and not the lawyer's. Now for the
+      lawyer again: Such being the law of England, the British Legislature
+      passed an act in 1858, the real object of which was to protect the public
+      against incapable doctors, not against capable doctresses or doctors. The
+      act excludes from medical practice all persons whatever, male or female,
+      unless registered in a certain register; and to get upon that register the
+      person, male or female, must produce a license or diploma, granted by one
+      of the British examining boards specified in a schedule attached to the
+      act.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, these examining boards were all members of the leading medical
+      schools. If the Legislature had taken the usual precaution, and had added
+      a clause <i>compelling</i> those boards to examine worthy applicants, the
+      act would have been a sound public measure; but for want of that foresight&mdash;and
+      without foresight a lawgiver is an impostor and a public pest&mdash;the
+      State robbed women of their old common-law rights with one hand, and with
+      the other enabled a respectable trades-union to thrust them out of their
+      new statutory rights. Unfortunately, the respectable union, to whom the
+      Legislature delegated an unconstitutional power they did not claim
+      themselves, of excluding qualified persons from examination, and so
+      robbing them of their license and their bread, had an overpowering
+      interest to exclude qualified women from medicine. They had the same
+      interest as the watchmakers' union, the printers', the painters' on china,
+      the calico-engravers', and others have to exclude qualified women from
+      those branches, though peculiarly fitted for them; but not more so than
+      they are for the practice of medicine, God having made <i>them,</i> and
+      not <i>men,</i> the medical, and unmusical, sex.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wherever there's a trades-union, the weakest go to the wall. Those vulgar
+      unions I have mentioned exclude women from skilled labor they excel in, by
+      violence and conspiracy, though the law threatens them with imprisonment
+      for it. Was it in nature, then, that the medical union would be infinitely
+      forbearing, when the Legislature went and patted it on the back, and said,
+      you can conspire with safety against your female rivals. Of course the
+      clique were tempted more than any clique could bear by the unwariness of
+      the Legislature, and closed the doors of the medical schools to female
+      applicants. Against unqualified female practitioners they never acted with
+      such zeal and consent; and why? The female quack is a public pest, and a
+      good foil to the union; the qualified doctress is a public good, and a
+      blow to the union.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The British medical union was now in a fine attitude by act of
+      Parliament. It could talk its contempt of medical women, and act its
+      terror of them, and keep both its feigned contempt and its real alarm safe
+      from the test of a public examination&mdash;that crucible in which cant,
+      surmise, and mendacity are soon evaporated or precipitated, and only the
+      truth stands firm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For all that, two female practitioners got upon the register, and stand
+      out, living landmarks of experience and the truth, in the dead wilderness
+      of surmise and prejudice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will tell you how they got in. The act of Parliament makes two
+      exceptions: first, it lets in, <i>without examination</i>&mdash;and that
+      is very unwise&mdash;any foreign doctor who shall be practicing in England
+      at the date of the act, although, with equal incapacity, it omits to
+      provide that any future foreign doctor shall be able to <i>demand
+      examination</i> (in with the old foreign fogies, blindfold, right or
+      wrong; out with the rising foreign luminaries of an ever-advancing
+      science, right or wrong); and, secondly, it lets in, without examination,
+      to experiment on the vile body of the public, any person, qualified or
+      unqualified, who may have been made a doctor by a very venerable and
+      equally irrelevant functionary. Guess, now, who it is that a British
+      Parliament sets above the law, as a doctor-maker for that public it
+      professes to love and protect!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Regius Professor of Medicine?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tyndall?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Huxley?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I give it up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Archbishop of Canterbury.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, come! a joke is a joke.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is no joke. Bright monument of British funkyism and imbecility,
+      there stands the clause setting that reverend and irrelevant doctor-maker
+      above the law, which sets his grace's female relations below the law, and,
+      in practice, outlaws the whole female population, starving those who
+      desire to practice medicine learnedly, and oppressing those who, out of
+      modesty, not yet quite smothered by custom and monopoly, desire to consult
+      a learned female physician, instead of being driven, like sheep, by iron
+      tyranny&mdash;in a country that babbles Liberty&mdash;to a male physician
+      or a female quack.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir, in 1849 Miss Elizabeth Blackwell fought the good fight in the
+      United States, and had her troubles; because the States were not so
+      civilized then as now. She graduated doctor at Geneva, in the State of New
+      York.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She was practicing in England in 1858, and demanded her place on the
+      register. She is an Englishwoman by birth; but she is an English M.D. only
+      through America having more brains than Britain. This one islander sings,
+      'Hail, Columbia!' as often as 'God save the Queen!' I reckon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Garrett, an enthusiastic student, traveled north, south, east, and
+      west, and knocked in vain at the doors of every great school and
+      university in Britain, but at last found a chink in the iron shutters of
+      the London Apothecaries'. It seems Parliament was wiser in 1815 than in
+      1858, for it inserted a clause in the Apothecaries Act of 1815 <i>compelling</i>
+      them to examine all persons who should apply to them for examination after
+      proper courses of study. Their charter contained no loop-hole to evade the
+      act, and substitute 'him' for 'person;' so they let Miss Garrett in as a
+      student. Like all the students, she had to attend lectures on chemistry
+      botany, materia medica, zoology, natural philosophy, and clinical surgery.
+      In the collateral subjects they let her sit with the male students; but in
+      anatomy and surgery she had to attend the same lectures privately, and pay
+      for lectures all to herself. This cost her enormous fees. However, it is
+      only fair to say that, if she had been one of a dozen female students, the
+      fees would have been diffused; as it was, she had to gild the pill out of
+      her private purse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the hospital teaching she met difficulties and discouragement, though
+      she asked for no more opportunities than are granted readily to
+      professional nurses and female amateurs. But the whole thing is a mere
+      money question; that is the key to every lock in it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She was freely admitted at last to one great hospital, and all went
+      smoothly till some surgeon examined the students <i>viva voce;</i> then
+      Miss Garrett was off her guard, and displayed too marked a superiority;
+      thereupon the male students played the woman, and begged she might be
+      excluded; and, I am sorry to say, for the credit of your sex, this unmanly
+      request was complied with by the womanish males in power.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;However, at her next hospital, Miss Garrett was more discreet, and took
+      pains to conceal her galling superiority.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All her trouble ended&mdash;where her competitors' began&mdash;at the
+      public examination. She passed brilliantly, and is an English apothecary.
+      In civilized France she is a learned physician.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She had not been an apothecary a week, before the Apothecaries' Society
+      received six hundred letters from the medical small-fry in town and
+      country; they threatened to send no more boys to the Apothecaries', but to
+      the College of Surgeons, if ever another woman received an apothecary's
+      license. Now, you know, all men tremble in England at the threats of a
+      trades-union; so the apothecaries instantly cudgeled their brains to find
+      a way to disobey the law, and obey the union. The medical press gave them
+      a hint, and they passed a by-law, forbidding their students to receive any
+      part of their education <i>privately,</i> and made it known, at the same
+      time, that their female students would not be allowed to study the leading
+      subjects <i>publicly.</i> And so they baffled the Legislature, and
+      outlawed half the nation, by a juggle which the press and the public would
+      have risen against, if a single grown-up man had been its victim, instead
+      of four million adult women. Now, you are a straightforward man; what do
+      you think of that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;I do not altogether approve it. The strong should
+      not use the arts of the weak in fighting the weak. But, in spite of your
+      eloquence, I mean to forgive them anything. Shakespeare has provided there
+      with an excuse that fits all time:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Our poverty, but not our will, consents.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poverty! the poverty of a company in the city of London! <i>Allons donc.</i>
+      Well, sir, for years after this all Europe, even Russia, advanced in
+      civilization, and opened their medical schools to women; so did the United
+      States: only the pig-headed Briton stood stock-still, and gloried in his
+      minority of one; as if one small island is likely to be right in its
+      monomania, and all civilized nations wrong.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But while I was studying in France, one lion-hearted Englishwoman was
+      moving our native isle. First she tried the University of London; and that
+      sets up for a liberal foundation. Answer&mdash;'Our charter is expressly
+      framed to exclude women from medical instruction.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then she sat down to besiege Edinburgh. Now, Edinburgh is a very
+      remarkable place. It has only half the houses, but ten times the
+      intellect, of Liverpool or Manchester. And the university has two
+      advantages as a home of <i>science</i> over the English universities: it
+      is far behind them in Greek, which is the language of error and nescience,
+      and before them in English, and that is a tongue a good deal of knowledge
+      is printed in. Edinburgh is the only center of British literature, except
+      London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One medical professor received the pioneer with a concise severity, and
+      declined to hear her plead her cause, and one received her almost
+      brutally. He said, 'No respectable woman would apply to him to study
+      medicine.' Now, respectable women were studying it all over Europe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but perhaps his soul lived in an island.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is so. However, personal applicants must expect a rub or two; and
+      most of the professors, in and out of medicine, treated her with kindness
+      and courtesy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Still, she found even the friendly professors alarmed at the idea of a
+      woman matriculating, and becoming <i>Civis Edinensis;</i> so she made a
+      moderate application to the Senate, viz., for leave to attend medical
+      lectures. This request was indorsed by a majority of the medical
+      professors, and granted. But on the appeal of a few medical professors
+      against it, the Senate suspended its resolution, on the ground that there
+      was only one applicant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This got wind, and other ladies came into the field directly, your humble
+      servant among them. Then the Senate felt bound to recommend the University
+      Court to admit such female students to matriculate as could pass the
+      preliminary examination; this is in history, logic, languages, and other
+      branches; and we prepared for it in good faith. It was a happy time: after
+      a good day's work, I used to go up the Calton Hill, or Arthur's Seat, and
+      view the sea, and the Piraens, and the violet hills, and the romantic
+      undulations of the city itself, and my heart glowed with love of
+      knowledge, and with honorable ambition. I ran over the names of worthy
+      women who had adorned medicine at sundry times and in divers places, and
+      resolved to deserve as great a name as any in history. Refreshed by my
+      walk&mdash;I generally walked eight miles, and practiced gymnastics to
+      keep my muscles hard&mdash;I used to return to my little lodgings; and
+      they too were sweet to me, for I was learning a new science&mdash;logic.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was a nut to crack.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have met few easier or sweeter. One non-observer had told me it was a
+      sham science, and mere pedantry; another, that it pretended to show men a
+      way to truth without observing. I found, on the contrary, that it was a
+      very pretty little science, which does not affect to discover phenomena,
+      but simply to guard men against rash generalization, and false deductions
+      from true data; it taught me the untrained world is brimful of fallacies
+      and verbal equivoques that ought not to puzzle a child, but, whenever they
+      creep into an argument, do actually confound the learned and the simple
+      alike, and all for want of a month's logic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I was happy on the hill, and happy by the hearth; and so things went
+      on till the preliminary examination came. It was not severe; we ladies all
+      passed with credit, though many of the male aspirants failed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you account for that?&rdquo; asked Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With my eyes. I <i>observe</i> that the average male is very superior in
+      intellect to the average female; and I <i>observe</i> that the picked
+      female is immeasurably more superior to the average male, than the average
+      male is to the average female.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it so simple as that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay; why not? What! are you one of those who believe that Truth is obscure&mdash;hides
+      herself&mdash;and lies in a well? I tell you, <i>sir,</i> Truth lies in no
+      well. The place Truth lies in is&mdash;<i>the middle of the turnpike road.</i>
+      But one old fogy puts on his green spectacles to look for her, and another
+      his red, and another his blue; and so they all miss her, because she is a
+      colorless diamond. Those spectacles are preconceived notions, <i>'a priori</i>
+      reasoning, cant, prejudice, the depth of Mr. Shallow's inner
+      consciousness, etc., etc. Then comes the observer, opens the eyes that God
+      has given him, tramples on all colored spectacles, and finds Truth as
+      surely as the spectacled theorists miss her. Say that the intellect of the
+      average male is to the average female as ten to six, it is to the
+      intellect of the picked female as ten to a hundred and fifty, or even
+      less. Now, the intellect of the male Edinburgh student was much above that
+      of the average male, but still it fell far below that of the picked
+      female. All the examinations at Edinburgh showed this to all God's
+      unspectacled creatures that used their eyes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      These remarks hit Vizard hard. They accorded with his own good sense and
+      method of arguing; but perhaps my more careful readers may have already
+      observed this. He nodded hearty approval for once, and she went on:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We had now a right to matriculate and enter on our medical course. But,
+      to our dismay, the right was suspended. The proofs of our general
+      proficiency, which we hoped would reconcile the professors to us as
+      students of medicine, alarmed people, and raised us unscrupulous enemies
+      in some who were justly respected, and others who had influence, though
+      they hardly deserved it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A general council of the university was called to reconsider the pledge
+      the Senate had given us, and overawe the university court by the weight of
+      academic opinion. The court itself was fluctuating, and ready to turn
+      either way. A large number of male students co-operated against us with a
+      petition. They, too, were a little vexed at our respectable figure in the
+      preliminary examination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The assembly met and the union orator got up; he was a preacher of the
+      Gospel, and carried the weight of that office. Christianity, as well as
+      science, seemed to rise against us in his person. He made a long and
+      eloquent speech, based on the intelligent surmises and popular prejudices
+      that were diffused in a hundred leading articles, and in letters to the
+      editor by men and women, to whom history was a dead letter in modern
+      controversies; for the Press battled this matter for two years, and
+      furnished each party with an artillery of reasons, <i>pro</i> and <i>con.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He said, 'Woman's sphere is the hearth and the home: to impair her
+      delicacy is to take the bloom from the peach: she could not qualify for
+      medicine without mastering anatomy and surgery&mdash;branches that must
+      unsex her. Providence, intending her to be man's helpmate, not his rival,
+      had given her a body unfit for war or hard labor, and a brain four ounces
+      lighter than a man's, and unable to cope with long study and practical
+      science. In short, she was too good, and too stupid, for medicine.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was eloquent, but it was <i>'a priori</i> reasoning, and conjecture <i>versus</i>
+      evidence: yet the applause it met with showed one how happy is the orator
+      'qui hurle avec les loups.' Taking the scientific preacher's whole theory
+      in theology and science, woman was high enough in creation to be the
+      mother of God, but not high enough to be a sawbones.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, a professor of <i>belles-lettres</i> rose on our side, not with a
+      rival theory, but with facts. He was a pupil of Lord Bacon, and a man of
+      the nineteenth century; so he objected to <i>'a priori</i> reasoning on a
+      matter of experience. To settle the question of capacity he gave a long
+      list of women who had been famous in science. Such as Bettesia Gozzadini,
+      Novella Andrea, Novella Calderini, Maddelena Buonsignori, and many more,
+      who were doctors of law and university professors: Dorotea Bocohi, who was
+      professor both of philosophy and medicine; Laura Bassi, who was elected
+      professor of philosophy in 1732 by acclamation, and afterward professor of
+      experimental physics; Anna Manzolini, professor of anatomy in 1760;
+      Gaetaua Agnesi, professor of mathematics; Christina Roccati, doctor of
+      philosophy in 1750; Clotilde Tambroni, professor of Greek in 1793; Maria
+      Dalle Donne, doctor of medicine in 1799; Zaffira Ferretti, doctor of
+      medicine in 1800; Maria Sega, doctor of medicine in 1799; Madalena Noe,
+      graduate of civil law in 1807. Ladies innumerable, who graduated in law
+      and medicine at Pavia, Ferrara, and Padua, including Elena Lucrezia
+      Cornaro of Padua, a very famous woman. Also in Salamanca, Alcala',
+      Cordova, he named more than one famous doctress. Also in Heidelberg,
+      Gottingen, Giessen, Wurzburg, etc., and even at Utrect, with numberless
+      graduates in the arts and faculties at Montpellier and Paris in all ages.
+      Also outside reputations, as of Doctor Bouvin and her mother, acknowledged
+      celebrities in their branch of medicine. This chain, he said, has never
+      been really broken. There was scarcely a great foreign university without
+      some female student of high reputation. There were such women at Vienna
+      and Petersburg; many such at Zurich. At Montpellier Mademoiselle Doumergue
+      was carrying all before her, and Miss Garrett and Miss Mary Putnam at
+      Paris, though they were weighted in the race by a foreign language. Let
+      the male English physician pass a stiff examination in scientific French
+      before he brayed so loud. He had never done it yet. This, he said, is not
+      an age of chimeras; it is a wise and wary age, which has established in
+      all branches of learning a sure test of ability in man or woman&mdash;public
+      examination followed by a public report. These public examinations are all
+      conducted by males, and women are passing them triumphantly all over
+      Europe and America, and graduate as doctors in every civilized country,
+      and even in half-civilized Russia.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He then went into our own little preliminary examination, and gave the
+      statistics: In Latin were examined 55 men and 3 women: 10 men were
+      rejected, but no women; 7 men were respectable, 7 <i>optimi,</i> or
+      first-rate, 1 woman <i>bona,</i> and 1 <i>optima.</i> In mathematics were
+      examined 67 men and 4 women, of whom 1 woman was <i>optima,</i> and 1 <i>bona:</i>
+      10 men were <i>optimi,</i> and 25 <i>boni;</i> the rest failed. In German
+      2 men were examined, and 1 woman: 1 man was good, and 1 woman. In logic 28
+      men were examined, and 1 woman: the woman came out fifth in rank, and she
+      had only been at it a month. In moral philosophy 16 men were examined; and
+      1 woman: the woman came out third. In arithmetic, 51 men and 3 women: 2
+      men were <i>optimi,</i> and 1 woman <i>optima;</i> several men failed, and
+      not one woman. In mechanics, 81 men and 1 woman: the woman passed with
+      fair credit, as did 13 men; the rest failing. In French were examined 58
+      men and 4 women: 3 men and 1 woman were respectable; 8 men and 1 woman
+      passed; two women attained the highest excellence, <i>optimoe,</i> and not
+      one man. In English, 63 men and 3 women: 3 men were good, and 1 woman; but
+      2 women were <i>optimoe,</i> and only 1 man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fancy you remembering figures like that,&rdquo; said Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is all training and habit,&rdquo; said she, simply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As to the study and practice of medicine degrading women, he asked if it
+      degraded men. No; it elevated them. They could not contradict him on that
+      point. He declined to believe, without a particle of evidence, that any
+      science could elevate the higher sex and degrade the lower. What evidence
+      we had ran against it. Nurses are not, as a class, unfeminine, yet all
+      that is most appalling, disgusting, horrible, and <i>unsexing</i> in the
+      art of healing is monopolized by them., Women see worse things than
+      doctors. Women nurse all the patients of both sexes, often under horrible
+      and sickening conditions, and lay out all the corpses. No doctor objects
+      to this on sentimental grounds; and why? Because the nurses get only a
+      guinea a week, and not a guinea a flying visit: to women the loathsome
+      part of medicine; to man the lucrative! The noble nurses of the Crimea
+      went to attend <i>males only,</i> yet were not charged with indelicacy.
+      They worked gratis. The would-be doctresses look <i>mainly to attending
+      women,</i> but then they want to be paid for it: there was the rub&mdash;it
+      was a mere money question, and all the attempts of the union to hide this
+      and play the sentimental shop-man were transparent hypocrisy and humbug.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A doctor justly revered in Edinburgh answered him, but said nothing new
+      nor effective; and, to our great joy, the majority went with us.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thus encouraged, the university court settled the matter. We were
+      admitted to matriculate and study medicine, under certain conditions, to
+      which I beg your attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The instruction of women for the profession of medicine was to be
+      conducted in separate classes confined entirely to women.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The professors of the Faculty of Medicine should, for this purpose, be
+      permitted to have separate classes for women.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All these regulations were approved by the chancellor, and are to this
+      day a part of the law of that university.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We ladies, five in number, but afterward seven, were matriculated and
+      registered professional students of medicine, and passed six delightful
+      months we now look back upon as if it was a happy dream.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We were picked women, all in earnest. We deserved respect, and we met
+      with it. The teachers were kind, and we attentive and respectful: the
+      students were courteous, and we were affable to them, but discreet.
+      Whatever seven young women could do to earn esteem, and reconcile even our
+      opponents to the experiment, we did. There was not an anti-student, or
+      downright flirt, among us; and, indeed, I have observed that an earnest
+      love of study and science controls the amorous frivolity of women even
+      more than men's. Perhaps our heads are really <i>smaller</i> than men's,
+      and we haven't room in them to be like Solomon&mdash;extremely wise and
+      arrant fools.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This went on until the first professional examination; but, after the
+      examination, the war, to our consternation, recommenced. Am I, then,
+      bad-hearted for thinking there must have been something in that
+      examination which roused the sleeping spirit of trades-unionism?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seems probable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then view that probability by the light of fact:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In physiology the male students were 127; in chemistry, 226; 25 obtained
+      honors in physiology; 31 in chemistry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In physiology and chemistry there were five women. One obtained honors in
+      physiology alone; four obtained honors in both physiology and chemistry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So, you see, the female students beat the male students in physiology at
+      the rate of five to one; and in chemistry, seven and three-quarters to
+      one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, horrible to relate, one of the ladies eclipsed twenty-nine out of
+      the thirty-one gentlemen who took <i>honors</i> in chemistry. In capacity
+      she surpassed them all; for the two, who were above her, obtained only two
+      marks more than she did, yet they had been a year longer at the study.
+      This entitled her to 'a Hope Scholarship' for that year.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you believe it? the scholarship was refused her&mdash;in utter
+      defiance of the founder's conditions&mdash;on the idle pretext that she
+      had studied at a different hour from the male students, and therefore was
+      not a member of the chemistry class.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why admit her to the competition?&rdquo; said Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why? because the <i>'a priori</i> reasoners took for granted she would be
+      defeated. Then the cry would have been, 'You had your chance; we let you
+      try for the Hope Scholarship; but you could not win it.' Having won it,
+      she was to be cheated out of it somehow, or anyhow. The separate-class
+      system was not that lady's fault; she would have preferred to pay the
+      university lecturer lighter fees, and attend a better lecture with the
+      male students. The separate class was an unfavorable condition of study,
+      which the university imposed on us, as the condition of admitting us to
+      the professional study of medicine? Surely, then, to cheat that lady out
+      of her Hope Scholarship, when she had earned it under conditions of study
+      enforced and unfavorable, was perfidious and dishonest. It was even a
+      little ungrateful to the injured sex; for the money which founded these
+      scholarships was women's money, every penny of it. The good Professor Hope
+      had lectured to ladies fifty years ago; had taken their fees, and founded
+      his scholarships with their money: and it would have done his heart good
+      to see a lady win and wear that prize which, but for his female pupils,
+      would never have existed. But it is easy to trample on a dead man: as easy
+      as on living women.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The perfidy was followed by ruthless tyranny. They refused to admit the
+      fair criminal to the laboratory, 'else,' said they, 'she'll defeat more
+      men.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That killed her, as a chemist. It gave inferior male students too great
+      an advantage over her. And so the public and Professor Hope were
+      sacrificed to a trades-union, and lost a great analytical chemist, and
+      something more&mdash;she had, to my knowledge, a subtle diagnosis. Now we
+      have at present no <i>great</i> analyst, and the few competent analysts we
+      have do not possess diagnosis in proportion. They can find a few poisons
+      in the dead, but they are slow to discover them in the living; so they are
+      not to be counted on to save a life, where crime is administering poison.
+      That woman could, and would, I think.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They drove her out of chemistry, wherein she was a genius, into surgery,
+      in which she was only a talent. She is now house-surgeon in a great
+      hospital, and the public has lost a great chemist and diagnostic physician
+      combined.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Up to the date of this enormity, the Press had been pretty evenly divided
+      for and against us. But now, to their credit, they were unanimous, and
+      reprobated the juggle as a breach of public faith and plain morality.
+      Backed by public opinion, one friendly professor took this occasion to
+      move the university to relax the regulation of separate classes since it
+      had been abused. He proposed that the female students should be admitted
+      to the ordinary classes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This proposal was negatived by 58 to 47.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This small majority was gained by a characteristic maneuver. The queen's
+      name was gravely dragged in as disapproving the proposal, when, in fact,
+      it could never have been submitted to her, or her comment, if any, must
+      have been in writing; and as to the general question, she has never said a
+      public word against medical women. She has too much sense not to ask
+      herself how can any woman be fit to be a queen, with powers of life and
+      death, if no woman is fit to be so small a thing, by comparison, as a
+      physician or a surgeon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We were victims of a small majority, obtained by imagination playing upon
+      flunkyism, and the first result was we were not allowed to sit down to
+      botany with males. Mind you, we might have gathered blackberries with them
+      in umbrageous woods from morn till dewy eve, and not a professor shocked
+      in the whole faculty; but we must not sit down with them to an
+      intellectual dinner of herbs, and listen, in their company, to the
+      pedantic terms and childish classifications of botany, in which kindred
+      properties are ignored. Only the male student must be told in public that
+      a fox-glove is <i>Digitalis purpurea</i> in the improved nomenclature of
+      science, and crow-foot is <i>Ranunculus sceleratus,</i> and the buck-bean
+      is <i>Menyanthis trifoliata,</i> and mugwort is <i>Artemesia Judaica;</i>
+      that, having lost the properties of hyssop known to Solomon, we regain our
+      superiority over that learned Hebrew by christening it <i>Gratiola
+      officinalis.</i> The sexes must not be taught in one room to discard such
+      ugly and inexpressive terms as snow-drop, meadow-sweet, heart's-ease,
+      fever-few, cowslip, etc., and learn to know the cowslip as <i>Primula
+      veris</i>&mdash;by class, <i>Pentandria monogynia;</i> and the buttercup
+      as <i>Ranunculus acnis</i>&mdash;<i>Polyandria monogynia;</i> the
+      snow-drop as <i>Galanthus nivalis</i>&mdash;<i>Hexandria monogynia;</i>
+      and the meadow-sweet as <i>Ulnaria;</i> the heart's ease as <i>Viola
+      tricolor;</i> and the daisy as <i>Bellis perennis</i>&mdash;<i>Syngenesia
+      superflua.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Vizard, &ldquo;I think the individual names can only hurt the jaws
+      and other organs of speech. But the classification! Is the mild luster of
+      science to be cast over the natural disposition of young women toward <i>Polyandria
+      monogynia?</i> Is trigamy to be identified in their sweet souls with
+      floral innocence, and their victims sitting by?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Such classifications are puerile and fanciful,&rdquo; said Miss Gale; &ldquo;but, for
+      that very reason, they don't infect <i>animals</i> with trigamy. Novels
+      are much more likely to do that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Especially ladies' novels,&rdquo; suggested Vizard, meekly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some,&rdquo; suggested the accurate Rhoda. &ldquo;But the sexes will never lose
+      either morals or delicacy through courses of botany endured together. It
+      will not hurt young ladies a bit to tell them in the presence of young
+      gentlemen that a cabbage is a thalamifioral exogen, and its stamens are
+      tetradynamous; nor that the mushroom, <i>Psalliata campestris,</i> and the
+      toad-stool, <i>Myoena campestris,</i> are confounded by this science in
+      one class, <i>Cryptogamia.</i> It will not even hurt them to be told that
+      the properties of the <i>Arum maculatum</i> are little known, but that the
+      males are crowded round the center of the spadix, and the females seated
+      at the base.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Said Vizard, pompously, &ldquo;The pulpit and the tea-table are centers of
+      similar phenomena. Now I think of it, the pulpit is a very fair calyx, but
+      the tea-table is sadly squat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir. But, more than that, not one of these pedants who growled at
+      promiscuous botany has once objected to promiscuous dancing, not even with
+      the gentleman's arm round the lady's waist, which the custom of centuries
+      cannot render decent. Yet the professors of delicacy connive, and the
+      Mother Geese sit smirking at the wall. Oh, world of hypocrites and
+      humbugs!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid you are an upsetter general,&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;But you are
+      abominably sincere; and all this is a curious chapter of human nature.
+      Pray proceed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale nodded gravely, and resumed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So much public ridicule fell on the union for this, and the blind
+      flunkyism which could believe the queen had meddled in the detail, that
+      the professors melted under it, and threw open botany and natural history
+      to us, with other collateral sciences.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then came the great fight, which is not ended yet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To qualify for medicine and pass the stiff examination, by which the
+      public is very properly protected, you must be versed in anatomy and
+      clinical surgery. Books and lectures do not suffice for this, without the
+      human subject&mdash;alive and dead. The university court knew that very
+      well when it matriculated us, and therefore it provided for our
+      instruction by promising us separate classes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Backed by this public pledge, we waited on the university professor of
+      anatomy to arrange our fees for a separate lecture. He flatly refused to
+      instruct us separately for love or money, or to permit his assistants.
+      That meant, 'The union sees a way to put you in a cleft stick and cheat
+      you out of your degree, in spite of the pledge the university has given
+      you; in spite of your fees, and of your time given to study in reliance on
+      the promise.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This was a heavy blow. But there was an extramural establishment called
+      Surgeons' Hall, and the university formally recognized all the lecturers
+      in this Hall; so we applied to those lecturers, and they were shocked at
+      the illiberality of the university professors, and admitted us at once to
+      mixed classes. We attended lectures with the male students on anatomy and
+      surgery, and <i>of all the anticipated evils, not one took place, sir.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The objections to mixed classes proved to be idle words; yet the
+      old-fashioned minds opposed to us shut their eyes and went on reasoning <i>'a
+      priori,</i> and proving that the evils which they saw did not arise <i>must</i>
+      arise should the experiment of mixed classes, which was then succeeding,
+      ever he tried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To qualify us for examination we now needed but one thing more&mdash;hospital
+      practice. The infirmary is supported not so much by the university as the
+      town. We applied, therefore, with some confidence, for the permission
+      usually conceded to medical students. The managers refused us the <i>town
+      infirmary.</i> Then we applied to the subscribers. The majority, not
+      belonging to a trades-union, declared in our favor, and intimated plainly
+      that they would turn out the illiberal managers at the next election of
+      managers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But by this time the war was hot and general, and hard blows dealt on
+      both sides. It was artfully suppressed by our enemies in the profession
+      and in the Press that we had begged hard for the separate class which had
+      been promised us in anatomy, and permission to attend, by ourselves, a
+      limited number of wards in the infirmary; and on this falsehood by
+      suppression worse calumnies were built.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall tell you what we really were, and what foul mouths and pens
+      insinuated we must be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Two accomplished women had joined us, and we were now the seven wise
+      virgins of a half-civilized nation, and, if I know black from white, we
+      were seven of its brightest ornaments. We were seven ladies, who wished to
+      be doctresses, especially devoted to our own sex; seven good students, who
+      went on our knees to the university for those separate classes in anatomy
+      and clinical surgery which the university was bound in honor to supply us;
+      but, our prayer rejected, said to the university, 'Well, use your own
+      discretion about separate or mixed classes; but for your own credit, and
+      that of human nature, do not willfully tie a hangman's noose to throttle
+      the weak and deserving, and don't cheat seven poor, hard-working,
+      meritorious women, your own matriculated students, out of our
+      entrance-fees, which lie to this day in the university coffers, out of the
+      exceptionally heavy fees we have paid to your professors, out of all the
+      fruit of our hard study, out of our diplomas, and our bread. Solve the
+      knot your own way. We will submit to mixed classes, or anything, except
+      professional destruction.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In this spirit our lion-hearted leader wrote the letter of an uninjured
+      dove, and said there were a great many more wards in the infirmary than
+      any male student could or did attend; we would be content to divide the
+      matter thus: the male students to have the monopoly of two-thirds, we to
+      have the bare right of admission to one-third. By this the male students
+      (if any) who had a sincere objection to study the sick, and witness
+      operations, in our company, could never be troubled with us; and we,
+      though less favored than the male students, could just manage to qualify
+      for that public examination, which was to prove whether we could make able
+      physicians or not.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir, this gentle proposal was rejected with rude scorn, and in aggressive
+      terms. Such is the spirit of a trades-union.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Having now shown you what we were, I will now tell you what our enemies,
+      declining to observe our conduct, though it was very public, suggested we
+      <i>must</i> be&mdash;seven shameless women, who pursued medicine as a
+      handle for sexuality; who went into the dissecting-room to dissect males,
+      and into the hospital to crowd round the male patient, and who <i>demanded</i>
+      mixed classes, that we might have male companions in those studies which
+      every feminine woman would avoid altogether.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This key-note struck, the public was regaled with a burst of hypocrisy
+      such as Moli'ere never had the luck to witness, or oh, what a comedy he
+      would have written!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The immodest sex, taking advantage of Moli'ere's decease without heirs of
+      his brains, set to work in public to teach the modest sex modesty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the conduct of this pleasant paradox, the representatives of that sex,
+      which has much courage and little modesty, were two professors&mdash;who
+      conducted the paradox so judiciously that the London Press reprimanded
+      them for their foul insinuations&mdash;and a number of young men called
+      medical students.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, the medical student surpasses most young men in looseness of life,
+      and indecency of mind and speech.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The representatives of womanhood to be instructed in modesty by these
+      animals, old and young, were seven prudes, whose minds were devoted to
+      study and honorable ambition. These women were as much above the average
+      of their sex in feminine reserve and independence of the male sex as they
+      were in intellect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The average girl, who throughout this discussion was all of a sudden
+      puffed as a lily, because she ceased to be <i>observed,</i> can attend to
+      nothing if a man is by; she can't work, she can't play, she is so eaten up
+      with sexuality. The frivolous soul can just manage to play croquet with
+      females; but, enter a man upon the scene, and she does even that very ill,
+      and can hardly be got to take her turn in the only thing she has really
+      given her mind to. We were angels compared with this paltry creature, and
+      she was the standing butt of public censure, until it was found that an
+      imaginary picture of her could be made the handle for insulting her
+      betters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Against these seven prudes, decent dotards and their foul-mouthed allies
+      flung out insinuations which did not escape public censure; and the
+      medical students declared their modesty was shocked at our intrusion into
+      anatomy and surgery, and petitioned against us. Some of the Press were
+      deceived by this for a time, and <i>hurlaient avec les loups.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I took up, one day, my favorite weekly, in which nearly every writer
+      seems to me a scholar, and was regaled with such lines as these:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'It appears that girls are to associate with boys as medical students, in
+      order that, when they become women, they may be able to speak to men with
+      entire plainness upon all the subjects of a doctor's daily practice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'In plain words, the aspirants to medicine and surgery desire to rid
+      themselves speedily and effectually of that modesty which nature has
+      planted in women.' And then the writer concludes: 'We beg to suggest that
+      there are other places besides dissecting-rooms and hospitals where those
+      ladies may relieve themselves of the modesty which they find so
+      troublesome. But fathers naturally object to this being done at their
+      sons' expense.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Infamous!&rdquo; cried Vizard. &ldquo;One comfort, no man ever penned that. That is
+      some old woman writing down young ones.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; said Rhoda. &ldquo;I have met so many womanish men in this
+      business. All I know is, that my cheeks burned, and, for once in the
+      fight, scalding tears ran down them. It was as if a friend had spat upon
+      me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a chimera! What a monstrous misinterpretation of pure minds by minds
+      impure! To <i>us</i> the dissecting-room was a temple, and the dead an
+      awe, revolting to all our senses, until the knife revealed to our minds
+      the Creator's hand in structural beauties that the trained can appreciate,
+      if wicked dunces can't.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And as to the infirmary, we should have done just what we did at Zurich.
+      We held a little aloof from the male patients, unless some good-natured
+      lecturer, or pupil, gave us a signal, and then we came forward. If we came
+      uninvited, we always stood behind the male students: but we did crowd
+      round the beds of the female patients, and claimed the inner row: AND,
+      SIR, THEY THANKED GOD FOR US OPENLY.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A few awkward revelations were made during this discussion. A medical
+      student had the candor to write and say that he had been at a lecture, and
+      the professor had told an indelicate story, and, finding it palatable to
+      his modest males, had said, 'There, gentlemen: now, if female students
+      were admitted here, I could not have told you this amusing circumstance.'
+      So that it was our purifying influence he dreaded in secret, though he
+      told the public he dreaded the reverse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Again, female patients wrote to the journals to beg that female students
+      might be admitted to come between them and the brutal curiosity of the
+      male students, to which they were subjected in so offensive a way that
+      more than one poor creature declared she had felt agonies of shame, even
+      in the middle of an agonizing operation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This being a cry from that public for whose sake the whole clique of
+      physicians&mdash;male and female&mdash;exists, had, of course, no great
+      weight in the union controversy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, sir, if grave men and women will sit calmly down and fling dirt upon
+      every woman who shall aspire to medicine in an island, though she can do
+      so on a neighboring continent with honor, and choose their time when the
+      dirt can only fall on seven known women&mdash;since the female students in
+      that island are only seven&mdash;the pretended generality becomes a
+      cowardly personality, and wounds as such, and excites less cold-hearted,
+      and more hot-headed blackguards to outrage. It was so at Philadelphia, and
+      it was so at Edinburgh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our extramural teacher in anatomy was about to give a competitive
+      examination. Now, on these occasions, we were particularly obnoxious.
+      Often and clearly as it had been proved, by <i>'a priori</i> reasoning,
+      that we <i>must</i> be infinitely inferior to the average male, we
+      persisted in proving, by hard fact, that we were infinitely his superior;
+      and every examination gave us an opportunity of crushing solid reasons
+      under hollow fact.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A band of medical students determined that for once <i>'a priori</i>
+      reasoning should have fair play, and not be crushed by a thing so illusory
+      as fact. Accordingly, they got the gates closed, and collected round them.
+      We came up, one after another, and were received with hisses, groans, and
+      abusive epithets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This mode of reasoning must have been admirably adapted to my weak
+      understanding; for it convinced me at once I had no business there, and I
+      was for private study directly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, sir, you know the ancients said, 'Better is an army of stags with a
+      lion for their leader, than an army of lions with a stag for their
+      leader.' Now, it so happened that we had a lioness for our leader. She
+      pushed manfully through the crowd, and hammered at the door: then we crept
+      quaking after. She ordered those inside to open the gates; and some
+      student took shame, and did. In marched our lioness, crept after by her&mdash;her&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her cubs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A thousand thanks, good sir. Her does. On second thoughts, 'her hinds.'
+      Doe is the female of buck. Now, I said stags. Well, the ruffians who had
+      undertaken to teach us modesty swarmed in too. They dragged a sheep into
+      the lecture-room, lighted pipes, produced bottles, drank, smoked, and
+      abused us ladies to our faces, and interrupted the lecturer at intervals
+      with their howls and ribaldry: that was intended to show the professor he
+      should not be listened to any more if he admitted the female students. The
+      affair got wind, and other students, not connected with medicine, came
+      pouring in, with no worse motive, probably, than to see the lark. Some of
+      these, however, thought the introduction of the sheep unfair to so
+      respected a lecturer, and proceeded to remove her; but the professor put
+      up his hand, and said, 'Oh, don't remove <i>her:</i> she is superior in
+      intellect to many persons here present.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At the end of the lecture, thinking us in actual danger from these
+      ruffians, he offered to let us out by a side door; but our lioness stood
+      up and said, in a voice that rings in my ear even now, 'Thank you, sir;
+      no. There are <i>gentlemen</i> enough here to escort us safely.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The magic of a great word from a great heart, at certain moments when
+      minds are heated! At that word, sir, the scales fell from a hundred eyes;
+      manhood awoke with a start, ay, and chivalry too; fifty manly fellows were
+      round us in a moment, with glowing cheeks and eyes, and they carried us
+      all home to our several lodgings in triumph. The cowardly caitiffs of the
+      trades-union howled outside, and managed to throw a little dirt upon our
+      gowns, and also hurled epithets, most of which were new to me; but it has
+      since been stated by persons more versed in the language of the <i>canaille</i>
+      that no fouler terms are known to the dregs of mankind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thus did the immodest sex, in the person of the medical student, outrage
+      seven fair samples of the modest sex&mdash;to teach them modesty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Next morning the police magistrates dealt with a few of our teachers,
+      inflicted severe rebukes on them, and feeble fines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The craftier elders disowned the riot in public, but approved it in
+      private; and continued to act in concert with it, only with cunning, not
+      violence. <i>It caused no honest revulsion of feeling,</i> except in the
+      disgusted public, and they had no power to help us.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The next incident was a stormy debate by the subscribers to the
+      infirmary; and here we had a little feminine revenge, which, outraged as
+      we had been, I hope you will not grudge us.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our lioness subscribed five pounds, and became entitled to vote and
+      speech. As the foulest epithets had been hurled at her by the union, and a
+      certain professor had told her, to her face, no respectable woman would
+      come to him and propose to study medicine, she said, publicly, that she
+      had come to his opinion, and respectable women would avoid him&mdash;which
+      caused a laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She also gave a venerable old physician, our bitter opponent, a slap that
+      was not quite so fair. His attendant had been concerned in that outrage,
+      and she assumed&mdash;in which she was not justified&mdash;that the old
+      doctor approved. 'To be sure,' said she, 'they say he was intoxicated, and
+      that is the only possible excuse.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The old doctor had only to say that he did not control his assistants in
+      the street; and his own mode of conducting the opposition, and his long
+      life of honor, were there to correct this young woman's unworthy surmises,
+      and she would have had to apologize for going too far on mere surmise.
+      But, instead of that, he was so injudicious as to accuse her of foul
+      language, and say, 'My attendant is a perfect gentleman; he would not be
+      my attendant if he were not.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our lioness had him directly. 'Oh,' said she, 'if Dr. So-and-so prefers
+      to say that his attendant committed that outrage on decency when in his
+      sober senses, I am quite content.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This was described as violent invective by people with weak memories, who
+      had forgotten the nature of the outrage our lioness was commenting on; but
+      in truth it was only superior skill in debate, with truth to back it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For my part, I kept the police report at the time, and have compared it
+      with her speech. The judicial comments on those rioters are far more
+      severe than hers. The truth is it was her facts that hit too hard, not her
+      expressions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir, she obtained a majority; and those managers of the infirmary
+      who objected to female students were dismissed, and others elected. At the
+      same meeting the Court of Contributors passed a statute, making it the law
+      of the infirmary that students should be admitted without regard to sex.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But as to the mere election of managers, the other party demanded a
+      scrutiny of the votes, and instructive figures came out. There voted with
+      us twenty-eight firms, thirty-one ladies, seven doctors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There voted with the union fourteen firms, two ladies, <i>thirty-seven
+      doctors,</i> and three <i>druggists.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thereupon the trades-union, as declared by the figures, alleged that
+      firms ought not to vote. <i>Nota bene,</i> they always had voted
+      unchallenged till they voted for fair play to women.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The union served the provost with an interdict not to declare the new
+      managers elected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We applied for our tickets under the new statute, but were impudently
+      refused, under the plea that the managers must first be consulted: so did
+      the servants of the infirmary defy the masters in order to exclude us.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By this time the great desire of women to practice medicine had begun to
+      show itself. Numbers came in and matriculated; and the pressure on the
+      authorities to keep faith, and relax the dead-lock they had put us in, was
+      great.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thereupon the authorities, instead of saying, 'We have pledged ourselves
+      to a great number of persons, and pocketed their fees,' took fright, and
+      cast about for juggles. They affected to discover all of a sudden that
+      they had acted illegally in matriculating female students. They would,
+      therefore, not give back their fees, and pay them two hundred pounds
+      apiece for breach of contract, but detain their fees and stop their
+      studies until compelled by judicial decision to keep faith. Observe, it
+      was under advice of the lord-justice-general they had matriculated us, and
+      entered into a contract with us, <i>for fulfilling which it was not, and
+      is not, in the power of any mortal man to punish them.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But these pettifoggers said this: <i>'We</i> have acted illegally, and
+      therefore not we, but <i>you,</i> shall suffer: <i>we</i> will <i>profit</i>
+      by our illegal act, for we will cheat you out of your fees to the
+      university and your fees to its professors, as well as the seed-time of
+      your youth that we have wasted.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, in that country they can get the opinions of the judges by raising
+      what they call an action of declarator.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One would think it was their business to go to the judges, and meantime
+      give us the benefit of the legal doubt, while it lasted, and of the moral
+      no-doubt, which will last till the day of judgment, and a day after.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a bit of it. They deliberately broke their contract with us, kept our
+      fees, and cheated us out of the article we had bought of them, disowned
+      all sense of morality, yet shifted the burden of law on to our shoulders.
+      Litigation is long. Perfidy was in possession. Possession is nine points.
+      The female students are now sitting with their hands before them, juggled
+      out of their studies, in plain defiance of justice and public faith,
+      waiting till time shall show them whether provincial lawyers can pettifog
+      as well as trades-union doctors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As for me, I had retired to civilized climes long before this. I used to
+      write twice a week to my parents, but I withheld all mention of the
+      outrage at Surgeons' Hall. I knew it would give them useless pain. But in
+      three weeks or so came a letter from my father, unlike any other I ever
+      knew him to write. It did not even begin, 'My dear child.' This was what
+      he said (the words are engraved in my memory): 'Out of that nation of
+      cowards and skunks! out of it this moment, once and forever! The States
+      are your home. Draft on London inclosed. Write to me from France next
+      week, or write to me no more. Graduate in France. Then come North, and
+      sail from Havre to New York. You have done with Britain, and so have I,
+      till our next war. Pray God that mayn't be long!'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was like a lion's roar of anguish. I saw my dear father's heart was
+      bursting with agony and rage at the insult to his daughter, and I shed
+      tears for him those wretches had never drawn from me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had cried at being insulted by scholars in the Press; but what was it
+      to me that the scum of the medical profession, which is the scum of God's
+      whole creation, called me words I did not know the meaning of, and flung
+      the dirt of their streets, and the filth of their souls, after me? I was
+      frightened a little, that is all. But that these reptiles could wound my
+      darling old lion's heart across the ocean! Sir, he was a man who could be
+      keen and even severe with men, but every virtuous woman was a sacred thing
+      to him. Had he seen one, though a stranger, insulted as we were, he would
+      have died in her defense. He was a true American. And to think the dregs
+      of mankind could wound him for his daughter, and so near the end of his
+      own dear life. Oh!&rdquo; She turned her head away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My poor girl!&rdquo; said Vizard, and his own voice was broken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he said that, she gave him her hand, and seemed to cling to his a
+      little; but she turned her head away from him and cried, and even trembled
+      a little.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But she very soon recovered herself, and said she would try to end her
+      story. It had been long enough.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir, my father had often obeyed me; but now I knew I must obey him. I got
+      testimonials in Edinburgh, and started South directly. In a week I was in
+      the South of France. Oh, what a change in people's minds by mere change of
+      place! The professors received me with winning courtesy; some hats were
+      lifted to me in the street, with marked respect; flowers were sent to my
+      lodgings by gentlemen who never once intruded, on me in person. I was in a
+      civilized land. Yet there was a disappointment for me. I inquired for
+      Cornelia. The wretch had just gone and married a professor. I feared she
+      was up to no good, by her writing so seldom of late.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I sent her a line that an old friend had returned, and had not forgotten
+      her, nor our mutual vows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She came directly, and was for caressing away her crime, and dissolving
+      it in crocodile tears; but I played the injured friend and the tyrant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then she curled round me, and coaxed, and said, 'Sweetheart, I can
+      advance your interests all the better. You shall be famous for us both. I
+      shall be happier in your success than in my own.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In short, she made it very hard to hold spite; and it ended in
+      feeble-minded embraces. Indeed, she <i>was</i> of service to me. I had a
+      favor to ask: I wanted leave to count my Scotch time in France.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My view was tenable; and Cornelia, by her beauty and her popularity,
+      gained over all the professors to it but one. He stood out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir, an extraordinary occurrence befriended me; no, not
+      extraordinary&mdash;unusual.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I lodged on a second floor. The first floor was very handsome. A young
+      Englishman and his wife took it for a week. She was musical&mdash;a real
+      genius. The only woman I ever heard sing without whining; for we are, by
+      nature, the medical and unmusical sex.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you said before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know I did; and I mean to keep saying it till people see it. Well, the
+      young man was taken violently and mysteriously ill; had syncope after
+      syncope, and at last ceased to breathe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The wife was paralyzed, and sat stupefied, and the people about feared
+      for her reason.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;After a time they begged me to come down and talk to her. Of course I
+      went. I found her with her head upon his knees. I sat down quietly, and
+      looked at him. He was young and beautiful, but with a feminine beauty; his
+      head finely shaped, with curly locks that glittered in the sun, and one
+      golden lock lighter than the rest; his eyes and eyelashes, his oval face,
+      his white neck, and his white hand, all beautiful. His left hand rested on
+      the counterpane. There was an emerald ring on one finger. He was like some
+      beautiful flower cut down. I can see him now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The woman lifted her head and saw me. She had a noble face, though now
+      distorted and wild.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She cried, 'Tell me he is not dead! tell me he is not dead!' and when I
+      did not reply, the poor creature gave a wild cry, and her senses left her.
+      We carried her into another room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;While the women were bringing her to, an official came to insist on the
+      interment taking place. They are terribly expeditious in the South of
+      France.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This caused an altercation, and the poor lady rushed out; and finding the
+      officer peremptory, flung her arms round the body, and said they should
+      not be parted&mdash;she would be buried with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The official was moved, but said the law was strict, and the town must
+      conduct the funeral unless she could find the sad courage to give the
+      necessary instructions. With this he was going out, inexorable, when all
+      of a sudden I observed something that sent my heart into my mouth, and I
+      cried 'Arretez!' so loud that everybody stared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I said, 'You must wait till a physician has seen him; he has moved a
+      finger.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I stared at the body, and they all stared at me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He <i>had</i> moved a finger. When I first saw him, his fingers were all
+      close together; but now the little finger was quite away from the third
+      finger&mdash;the one with the ring on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I felt his heart, and found a little warmth about it, but no perceptible
+      pulse. I ordered them to take off his sheet and put on blankets, but not
+      to touch him till I came back with a learned physician. The wife embraced
+      me, all trembling, and promised obedience. I got a <i>fiacre</i> and drove
+      to Dr. Brasseur, who was my hostile professor, but very able. I burst on
+      him, and told him I had a case of catalepsy for him&mdash;it wasn't
+      catalepsy, you know, but physicians are fond of Greek; they prefer the
+      wrong Greek word to the right English. So I called it 'catalepsy,' and
+      said I believed they were going to bury a live man. He shrugged his
+      shoulders, and said that was one of the customs of the country. He would
+      come in an hour. I told him that would not do, the man would be in his
+      coffin; he must come directly. He smiled at my impetuosity, and yielded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I got him to the patient. He examined him, and said he might be alive,
+      but feared the last spark was going out. He dared not venture on friction.
+      We must be wary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, we tried this stimulant and that, till at last we got a sigh out of
+      the patient; and I shall not forget the scream of joy at that sigh, which
+      made the room ring, and thrilled us all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By-and-by I was so fortunate as to suggest letting a small stream of
+      water fall from a height on his head and face. We managed that, and
+      by-and-by were rewarded with a sneeze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think a sneeze must revivify the brain wonderfully, for he made rapid
+      progress, and then we tried friction, and he got well very quick. Indeed,
+      as he had nothing the matter with him, except being dead, he got
+      ridiculously well, and began paying us fulsome compliments, the doctor and
+      me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So then we handed him to his joyful wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They talk of crying for joy, as if it was done every day. I never saw it
+      but once, and she was the woman. She made a curious gurgle; but it was
+      very pretty. I was glad to have seen it, and very proud to be the cause.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The next day that pair left. He was English and so many good-natured
+      strangers called on him that he fled swiftly, and did not even bid me
+      good-by. However, I was told they both inquired for me, and were sorry I
+      was out when they went.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How good of them!&rdquo; said Vizard, turning red.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, never mind, sir; I made use of <i>him.</i> I scribbled an article
+      that very day, entitled it, 'While there's life there's hope,' and rushed
+      with it to the editor of a journal. He took it with delight. I wrote it <i>'a
+      la Francaise:</i> picture of the dead husband, mourning wife, the
+      impending interment; effaced myself entirely, and said the wife had
+      refused to bury him until Dr. Brasseur, whose fame had reached her ears,
+      had seen the body. To humor her, the doctor was applied to, and, his
+      benevolence being equal to his science, he came: when, lo! a sudden
+      surprise; the swift, unerring eye of science detected some subtle sign
+      that had escaped the lesser luminaries. He doubted the death. He applied
+      remedies; he exhausted the means of his art, with little avail at first,
+      but at last a sigh was elicited, then a sneeze; and, marvelous to relate,
+      in one hour the dead man was sitting up, not convalescent, but well. I
+      concluded with some reflections on this <i>most important case of
+      suspended animation</i> very creditable to the profession of medicine, and
+      Dr. Brasseur.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There was a fox!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, look at my hair. What else could you expect? I said that before,
+      too.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My notice published, I sent it to the doctor, with my respects, but did
+      not call on him. However, one day he met me, and greeted me with a low
+      bow. 'Mademoiselle,' said he, 'you were always a good student; but now you
+      show the spirit of a <i>confr'ere,</i> and so gracefully, that we are all
+      agreed we must have you for one as soon as possible.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I courtesied, and felt my face red, and said I should be the proudest
+      woman in France.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Grand Dieu,' said he, 'I hope not; for your modesty is not the least of
+      your charms.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So, the way was made smooth, and I had to work hard, and in about
+      fourteen months I was admitted to my final examination. It was a severe
+      one, but I had some advantages. Each nation has its wisdom, and I had
+      studied in various schools.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Being a linguist, with a trained memory, I occasionally backed my replies
+      with a string of French, German, English, and Italian authorities that
+      looked imposing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In short, I did pass with public applause and cordial felicitation; they
+      quite <i>fe'ted</i> me. The old welcomed me; the young escorted me home
+      and flung flowers over me at my door. I reappeared in the balcony, and
+      said a few words of gratitude to them and their noble nation. They
+      cheered, and dispersed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My heart was in a glow. I turned my eyes toward New York: a fortnight
+      more, and my parents should greet me as a European doctress, if not a
+      British.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The excitement had been too great; I sunk, a little exhausted, on the
+      sofa. They bought me a letter. It was black-edged. I tore it open with a
+      scream. My father was dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIV.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I WAS prostrated, stupefied. I don't know what I did, or how long I sat
+      there. But Cornelia came to congratulate me, and found me there like
+      stone, with the letter in my hand. She packed up my clothes, and took me
+      home with her. I made no resistance. I seemed all broken and limp, soul
+      and body, and not a tear that day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, sir, how small everything seems beside bereavement! My troubles, my
+      insults, were nothing now; my triumph nothing; for I had no father left to
+      be proud of it with me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wept with anguish a hundred times a day. Why had I left New York? Why
+      had I not foreseen this every-day calamity, and passed every precious hour
+      by his side I was to lose?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Terror seized me. My mother would go next. No life of any value was safe
+      a day. Death did not wait for disease. It killed because it chose, and to
+      show its contempt of hearts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But just as I was preparing to go to Havre, they brought me a telegram. I
+      screamed at it, and put up my hands. I said 'No, no;' I would not read it,
+      to be told my mother was dead. I would have her a few minutes longer.
+      Cornelia read it, and said it was from her. I fell on it, and kissed it.
+      The blessed telegram told she was coming home. I was to go to London and
+      wait for her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I started. Cornelia paid my fees, and put my diploma in my box. <i>I</i>
+      cared for nothing now but my own flesh and blood&mdash;what was left of it&mdash;my
+      mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I reached London, and telegraphed my address to my mother, and begged her
+      to come at once and ease my fears. I told her my funds were exhausted;
+      but, of course, that was not the thing I poured out my heart about; so I
+      dare say she hardly realized my deplorable condition&mdash;listless and
+      bereaved, alone in a great city, with no money.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In her next letter she begged me to be patient. She had trouble with her
+      husband's executors; she would send me a draft as soon as she could; but
+      she would not leave, and let her child be robbed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By-and-by the landlady pressed me for money. I gave her my gowns and
+      shawls to sell for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Goose!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And just now I was a fox.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are both. But so is every woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She handed me a few shillings, by way of balance. I lived on them till
+      they went. Then I starved a little.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With a ring on your finger you could have pawned for ten guineas!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pawn my ring! My father gave it me.&rdquo; She kissed it tenderly, yet, to
+      Vizard, half defiantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pawning is not selling, goose!&rdquo; said he, getting angry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I must have parted with it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you preferred to <i>starve?&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I preferred to starve,&rdquo; said she, steadily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at her. Her eyes faced his. He muttered something, and walked
+      away, three steps to hide unreasonable sympathy. He came back with a grand
+      display of cheerfulness. &ldquo;Your mother will be here next month,&rdquo; said he,
+      &ldquo;with money in both pockets. Meantime I wish you would let me have a
+      finger in the pie&mdash;or, rather my sister. She is warm-hearted and
+      enthusiastic; she shall call on you, if you will permit it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is she like you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a bit. We are by different mothers. Hers was a Greek, and she is a
+      beautiful, dark girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I admire beauty; but is she like you&mdash;in&mdash;in&mdash;disposition?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lord! no; very superior. Not abominably clever like you, but absurdly
+      good. You shall judge for yourself. Oblige me with your address.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctress wrote her address with a resigned air, as one who had found
+      somebody she had to obey; and, as soon as he had got it, Vizard gave her a
+      sort of nervous shake of the hand, and seemed almost in a hurry to get
+      away from her. But this was his way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She would have been amazed if she had seen his change of manner the moment
+      he got among his own people.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He burst in on them, crying, &ldquo;There&mdash;the prayers of this congregation
+      are requested for Harrington Vizard, saddled with a virago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Saddled with a virago!&rdquo; screamed Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Saddled with a&mdash;!&rdquo; sighed Zoe, faintly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Saddled with a virago FOR LIFE!&rdquo; shouted Vizard, with a loud defiance
+      that seemed needless, since nobody was objecting violently to his being
+      saddled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look here!&rdquo; said he, descending all of a sudden to a meek, injured air,
+      which, however, did not last very long, &ldquo;I was in the garden of Leicester
+      Square, and a young lady turned faint. I observed it, and, instead of
+      taking the hint and cutting, I offered assistance&mdash;off my guard, as
+      usual. She declined. I persisted; proposed a glass of wine, or spirit. She
+      declined, but at last let out she was starving.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; cried Zoe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Zoe&mdash;starving. A woman more learned, more scientific, more
+      eloquent, more offensive to a fellow's vanity, than I ever saw, or even
+      read of&mdash;a woman of <i>genius,</i> starving, like a genius and a
+      ninny, with a ring on her finger worth thirty guineas. But my learned
+      goose would not raise money on that, because it was her father's, and he
+      is dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor thing!&rdquo; said Zoe, and her eyes glistened directly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It <i>is</i> hard, Zoe, isn't it? She is a physician&mdash;an able
+      physician; has studied at Zurich and at Edinburgh, and in France, and has
+      a French diploma; but must not practice in England, because we are behind
+      the Continent in laws and civilization&mdash;so <i>she</i> says, confound
+      her impudence, and my folly for becoming a woman's echo! But if I were to
+      tell you her whole story, your blood would boil at the trickery, and
+      dishonesty, and oppression of the trades-union which has driven this
+      gifted creature to a foreign school for education; and, now that a foreign
+      nation admits her ability and crowns her with honor, still she must not
+      practice in this country, because she is a woman, and we are a nation of
+      half-civilized men. That is <i>her</i> chat, you understand, not mine. We
+      are not obliged to swallow all that; but, turn it how you will, here are
+      learning, genius, and virtue starving. We must get her to accept a little
+      money; that means, in her case, a little fire and food. Zoe, shall that
+      woman go to bed hungry to-night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, never!&rdquo; said Zoe, warmly. &ldquo;'Let me think. Offer her a <i>loan.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well done; that is a good idea. Will <i>you</i> undertake it? She will be
+      far more likely to accept. She is a bit of a prude and all, is my virago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, dear, she will. Order the carriage. She shall not go to bed hungry&mdash;nobody
+      shall that you are interested in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, after dinner will do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dinner was ordered immediately, and the brougham an hour after.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At dinner, Vizard gave them all the outline of the Edinburgh struggle, and
+      the pros and cons; during which narrative his female hearers might have
+      been observed to get cooler and cooler, till they reached the zero of
+      perfect apathy. They listened in dead silence; but when Harrington had
+      done, Fanny said aside to Zoe, &ldquo;It is all her own fault. What business
+      have women to set up for doctors?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course not,&rdquo; said Zoe; &ldquo;only we must not say so. He indulges <i>us</i>
+      in our whims.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Warm partisan of immortal justice, when it was lucky enough to be backed
+      by her affections, Miss Vizard rose directly after dinner, and, with a
+      fine imitation of ardor, said she could lose no more time&mdash;she must
+      go and put on her bonnet. &ldquo;You will come with me, Fanny?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When I was a girl, or a boy&mdash;I forget which, it is so long ago&mdash;a
+      young lady thus invited by an affectionate friend used to do one of two
+      things; nine times out of ten she sacrificed her inclination, and went;
+      the tenth, she would make sweet, engaging excuses, and beg off. But the
+      girls of this day have invented &ldquo;silent volition.&rdquo; When you ask them to do
+      anything they don't quite like, they look you in the face, bland but full,
+      and neither speak nor move. Miss Dover was a proficient in this graceful
+      form of refusal by dead silence, and resistance by placid inertia. She
+      just looked like the full moon in Zoe's face, and never budged. Zoe, being
+      also a girl of the day, needed no interpretation. &ldquo;Oh, very well,&rdquo; said
+      she, &ldquo;disobliging thing!&rdquo;&mdash;with perfect good humor, mind you.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard, however, was not pleased.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You go with her, Ned,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Miss Dover prefers to stay and smoke a
+      cigar with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Dover's face reddened, but she never budged. And it ended in Zoe
+      taking Severne with her to call on Rhoda Gale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhoda Gale stayed in the garden till sunset, and then went to her lodgings
+      slowly, for they had no attraction&mdash;a dark room; no supper; a hard
+      landlady, half disposed to turn her out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Rhoda Gale never reflected much in the streets; they were to her a
+      field of minute observation; but, when she got home she sat down and
+      thought over what she had been saying and doing, and puzzled over the
+      character of the man who had relieved her hunger and elicited her
+      autobiography. She passed him in review; settled in her mind that he was a
+      strong character; a manly man, who did not waste words; wondered a little
+      at the way he had made her do whatever he pleased; blushed a little at the
+      thought of having been so communicative; yet admired the man for having
+      drawn her out so; and wondered whether she should see him again. She hoped
+      she should. But she did not feel sure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She sat half an hour thus&mdash;with one knee raised a little, and her
+      hands interlaced&mdash;by a fire-place with a burned-out coal in it; and
+      by-and-by she felt hungry again. But she had no food, and no money.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked hard at her ring, and profited a little by contact with the
+      sturdy good sense of Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She said to herself, &ldquo;Men understand one another. I believe father would
+      be angry with me for not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she looked tenderly and wistfully at the ring, and kissed it, and
+      murmured, &ldquo;Not to-night.&rdquo; You see she hoped she might have a letter in the
+      morning, and so respite her ring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she made light of it, and said to herself, &ldquo;No matter; 'qui dort,
+      dine.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But as it was early for bed, and she could not be long idle, sipping no
+      knowledge, she took up the last good German work that she had bought when
+      she had money, and proceeded to read. She had no candle, but she had a
+      lucifer-match or two, and an old newspaper. With this she made long
+      spills, and lighted one, and read two pages by that paper torch, and
+      lighted another before it was out, and then another, and so on in
+      succession, fighting for knowledge against poverty, as she had fought for
+      it against perfidy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While she was thus absorbed, a carriage drew up at the door. She took no
+      notice of that; but presently there was a rustling of silk on the stairs,
+      and two voices, and then a tap at the door. &ldquo;Come in,&rdquo; said she; and Zoe
+      entered just as the last spill burned out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhoda Gale rose in a dark room; but a gas-light over the way just showed
+      her figure. &ldquo;Miss Gale?&rdquo; said Zoe, timidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am Miss Gale,&rdquo; said Rhoda, quietly, but firmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am Miss Vizard&mdash;the gentleman's sister that you met in Leicester
+      Square to-day;&rdquo; and she took a cautious step toward her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhoda's cheeks burned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Vizard,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;excuse my receiving you so; but you may have
+      heard I am very poor. My last candle is gone. But perhaps the landlady
+      would lend me one. I don't know. She is very disobliging, and very cruel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then she shall not have the honor of lending you a candle,&rdquo; said Zoe,
+      with one of her gushes. &ldquo;Now, to tell the truth,&rdquo; said she, altering to
+      the cheerful, &ldquo;I'm rather glad. I would rather talk to you in the dark for
+      a little, just at first. May I?&rdquo; By this time she had gradually crept up
+      to Rhoda.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid you <i>must,&rdquo;</i> said Rhoda. &ldquo;But at least I can offer you a
+      seat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe sat down, and there was an awkward silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear,&rdquo; said Zoe; &ldquo;I don't know how to begin. I wish you would give me
+      your hand, as I can't see your face.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With all my heart: there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      (Almost in a whisper) &ldquo;He has told me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhoda put the other hand to her face, though it was so dark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Miss Gale, how <i>could</i> you? Only think! Suppose you had killed
+      yourself, or made yourself very ill. Your mother would have come directly
+      and found you so; and only think how unhappy you would have made her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can I have forgotten my mother?&rdquo; asked Rhoda of herself, but aloud.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not willfully, I am sure. But you know geniuses are not always wise in
+      these little things. They want some good humdrum soul to advise them in
+      the common affairs of life. That want is supplied you now; for <i>I</i> am
+      here&mdash;ha-ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are no more commonplace than I am; much less now, I'll be bound.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We will put that to the test,&rdquo; said Zoe, adroitly enough. <i>&ldquo;My</i> view
+      of all this is&mdash;that here is a young lady in want of money <i>for a
+      time,</i> as everybody is now and then, and that the sensible course is to
+      borrow some till your mother comes over with her apronful of dollars. Now,
+      I have twenty pounds to lend, and, if you are so mighty sensible as you
+      say, you won't refuse to borrow it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Miss Vizard, you are very good; but I am afraid and ashamed to
+      borrow. I never did such a thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Time you began, then. <i>I</i> have&mdash;often. But it is no use
+      arguing. You <i>must&mdash;</i>or you will get poor me finely scolded.
+      Perhaps he was on his good behavior with you, being a stranger; but at
+      home they expect to be obeyed. He will be sure to say it was my stupidity,
+      and that <i>he</i> would have made you directly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do tell!&rdquo; cried Rhoda, surprised into an idiom; &ldquo;as if I'd have taken
+      money from <i>him!&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course not; but between <i>us</i> it is nothing at all. There:&rdquo;
+       and she put the money into Rhoda's hand, and then held both hand and money
+      rather tightly imprisoned in her larger palm, and began to chatter, so as
+      to leave the other no opening. &ldquo;Oh, blessed darkness! how easy it makes
+      things! does it not? I am glad there was no candle; we should have been
+      fencing and blushing ever so long, and made such a fuss about nothing&mdash;and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This prattle was interrupted by Rhoda Gale putting her right wrist round
+      Zoe's neck, and laying her forehead on her shoulder with a little sob. So
+      then they both distilled the inevitable dew-drops.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But as Rhoda was not much given that way, she started up, and said,
+      &ldquo;Darkness? No; I must see the face that has come here to help me, and not
+      humiliate me. That is the first use I'll make of the money. I am afraid
+      you are rather plain, or you couldn't be so good as all this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Zoe. &ldquo;I'm not reckoned plain; only as black as a coal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the more to my taste,&rdquo; said Rhoda, and flew out of the room, and
+      nearly stumbled over a figure seated on a step of the staircase. &ldquo;Who are
+      you?&rdquo; said she, sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My name is Severne.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what are you doing there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Waiting for Miss Vizard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come in, then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She told me not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I tell you <i>to.</i> The idea! Miss Vizard!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please have Mr. Severne in. Here he is sitting&mdash;like Grief&mdash;on
+      the steps. I will soon be back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She flew to the landlady. &ldquo;Mrs. Grip, I want a candle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, the shops are open,&rdquo; said the woman, rudely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I have no time. Here is a sovereign. Please give me two candles
+      directly, candlesticks and all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman's manner changed directly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You shall have them this moment, miss, and my own candlesticks, which
+      they are plated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She brought them, and advised her only to light one. &ldquo;They don't carry
+      well, miss,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;They are wax&mdash;or summat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then they are summat,&rdquo; said Miss Gale, after a single glance at their
+      composition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll make you a nice hot supper, miss, in half an hour,&rdquo; said the woman,
+      maternally, as if she were going to <i>give</i> it her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, thank you. Bring me a two-penny loaf, and a scuttle of coals.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La, miss, no more than that&mdash;out of a sov'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;THE CHANGE.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Having shown Mrs. Grip her father was a Yankee, she darted upstairs, with
+      her candles. Zoe came to meet her, and literally dazzled her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhoda stared at her with amazement and growing rapture. &ldquo;Oh, you beauty!&rdquo;
+       she cried, and drank her in from head to foot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said she, drawing a long breath, &ldquo;Nature, you have turned out a <i>com-</i>plete
+      article this time, I reckon.&rdquo; Then, as Severne laughed merrily at this,
+      she turned her candle and her eyes full on him very briskly. She looked at
+      him for a moment, with a gratified eye at his comeliness; then she
+      started. &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He received the inspection merrily, till she uttered that ejaculation,
+      then he started a little, and stared at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have met before,&rdquo; said she, almost tenderly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have we?&rdquo; said he, putting on a mystified air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She fixed him, and looked him through and through. &ldquo;You&mdash;don't&mdash;remember&mdash;me?&rdquo;
+       asked she. Then, after giving him plenty of time to answer, &ldquo;Well, then, I
+      must be mistaken;&rdquo; and her words seemed to freeze themselves and her as
+      they fell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned her back on him, and said to Zoe, with a good deal of sweetness
+      and weight, &ldquo;I have lived to see goodness and beauty united. I will never
+      despair of human nature.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was too pointblank for Zoe; she blushed crimson, and said archly, &ldquo;I
+      think it is time for me to run. Oh, but I forgot; here is my card. We are
+      all at that hotel. If I am so very attractive, you will come and see me&mdash;we
+      leave town very soon&mdash;will you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will,&rdquo; said Rhoda.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And since you took me for an old acquaintance, I hope you will treat me
+      as one,&rdquo; said Severne, with consummate grace and assurance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will, <i>sir,&rdquo;</i> said she, icily, and with a marvelous curl of the
+      lip that did not escape him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She lighted them down the stairs, gazed after Zoe, and ignored Severne
+      altogether.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XV.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      GOING home in the carriage, Zoe was silent, but Severne talked nineteen to
+      the dozen. Had his object been to hinder his companion's mind from
+      dwelling too long on one thing, he could not have rattled the dice of
+      small talk more industriously. His words would fill pages; his topics
+      were, that Miss Gale was an extraordinary woman, but too masculine for his
+      taste, and had made her own troubles setting up doctress, when her true
+      line was governess&mdash;for boys. He was also glib and satirical upon
+      that favorite butt, a friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who but a <i>soi-disant</i> woman-hater would pick up a strange virago
+      and send his sister to her with twenty pounds? I'll tell you what it is,
+      Miss Vizard&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here Miss Vizard, who had sat dead silent under a flow of words, which is
+      merely indicated above, laid her hand on his arm to stop the flux for a
+      moment, and said, quietly, <i>&ldquo;Do</i> you know her? tell me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Know her! How should I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought you might have met her&mdash;abroad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it is possible, of course, but very unlikely. If I did, I never
+      spoke to her, or I should have remembered her. <i>Don't you think so?&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She seemed very positive; and I think she is an accurate person. She
+      seemed quite surprised and mortified when you said 'No.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you know, of course it is a mortifying thing when a lady claims a
+      gentleman's acquaintance, and the gentleman doesn't admit it. But what
+      could I do? I couldn't tell a lie about it&mdash;could I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was off my guard, and rudish; but you were not. What tact! what
+      delicacy! what high breeding and angelic benevolence! And so clever, too!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, fie! you listened!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You left the door ajar, and I could not bear to lose a word that dropped
+      from those lips so near me. Yes, I listened, and got such a lesson as only
+      a noble, gentle lady could give. I shall never forget your womanly art,
+      and the way you contrived to make the benefaction sound nothing. 'We are
+      all of us at low water in turns, and for a time, especially me, Zoe
+      Vizard; so here's a trifling loan.' A loan! you'll never see a shilling of
+      it again! No matter. What do angels want of money?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, pray,&rdquo; said Zoe, &ldquo;you make me blush!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I wish there was more light to see it&mdash;yes, an angel. Do you
+      think I can't see you have done all this for a lady you do not really
+      approve? Fancy&mdash;a she doctor!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear friend,&rdquo; said Zoe, with a little juvenile pomposity, &ldquo;one ought
+      not to judge one's intellectual superiors hastily, and this lady is ours&rdquo;&mdash;then,
+      gliding back to herself, &ldquo;and it is my nature to approve what those I love
+      approve&mdash;when it is not downright wrong, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, of course it is not wrong; but is it wise?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe did not answer: the question puzzled her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I'll be frank, and speak out in time. I don't think you
+      know your brother Harrington. He is very inflammable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Inflammable! What! Harrington? Well, yes; for I've seen smoke issue from
+      his mouth&mdash;ha! ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha! ha! I'll pass that off for mine, some day when you are not by. But,
+      seriously, your brother is the very man to make a fool of himself with a
+      certain kind of woman. He despises the whole sex&mdash;in theory, and he
+      is very hard upon ordinary women, and does not appreciate their good
+      qualities. But, when he meets a remarkable woman, he catches fire like
+      tow. He fell in love with Mademoiselle Klosking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, not in love!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon. Now, this is between you and me&mdash;he was in love
+      with her, madly in love. He was only saved by our coming away. If those
+      two had met and made acquaintance, he would have been at her mercy. I
+      don't say any harm would have come of it; but I do say that would have
+      depended on the woman, and not on the man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe looked very serious, and said nothing. But her long silence showed him
+      his words had told.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; said he, after a judicious pause, &ldquo;here is another remarkable
+      woman; the last in the world I should fancy, or Vizard either, perhaps, if
+      he met her in society. But the whole thing occurs in the way to catch him.
+      He finds a lady fainting with hunger; he feeds her; and that softens his
+      heart to her. Then she tells him the old story&mdash;victim of the world's
+      injustice&mdash;and he is deeply interested in her. She can see that; she
+      is as keen as a razor. If those two meet a few more times, he will be at
+      her mercy; and then won't she throw physic to the dogs, and jump at a
+      husband six feet high, and twelve thousand acres! I don't study women with
+      a microscope, as our woman-hater does, but I notice a few things about
+      them; and one is, that their eccentricities all give way at the first
+      offer of marriage. I believe they are only adopted in desperation, to get
+      married. What beautiful woman is ever eccentric? catch her! she can get a
+      husband without. That doctress will prescribe Harrington a wedding-ring;
+      and, if he swallows it, it will be her last prescription. She will send
+      out for the family doctor after that, like other wives.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You alarm me,&rdquo; said Zoe. &ldquo;Pray do not make me unjust. This is a lady with
+      a fine mind, and, not a designing woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't say she has laid any plans; but these things are always
+      extemporized the moment the chance comes. You can count beforehand on the
+      instinct of every woman who is clever and needy, and on Vizard's peculiar
+      weakness for women out of the common. He is hard upon the whole sex; but
+      he is no match for individuals. He owned as much himself to me one day.
+      You are not angry with me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no. Angry with <i>you?&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is you I think of in all this. He is a fine fellow, and you are proud
+      of him. I wouldn't have him marry to mortify you. For myself, while the
+      sister honors me with her regard, I really don't much care who has the
+      brother and the acres. I have the best of the bargain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe disputed this&mdash;in order to make him say it several times.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did, and proved it in terms that made her cheeks red with modesty and
+      gratified pride; and by the time they had got home, he had flattered
+      everything but pride, love, and happiness out of her heart, poor girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The world is like the Law, full of implied contracts: we give and take,
+      without openly agreeing to. Subtle Severne counted on this, and was not
+      disappointed. Zoe rewarded him for his praises, and her happiness, by
+      falling into his views about Rhoda Gale. Only she did it in her own
+      lady-like way, and not plump.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She came up to Harrington and kissed him, and said, &ldquo;Thank you, dear, for
+      sending me on a good errand. I found her in a very mean apartment, without
+      fire or candle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought as much,&rdquo; said Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did she take the money?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;as a loan.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Make any difficulties?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A little, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne put in his word. &ldquo;Now, if you want to know all the tact and
+      delicacy with which it was done, you must come to me; for Miss Vizard is
+      not going to give you any idea of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be quiet, sir, or I shall be very angry. I lent her the money, dear, and
+      her troubles are at an end; for her mother will certainly join her before
+      she has spent your twenty pounds. Oh! and she had not parted with her
+      ring; that is a comfort, is it not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a good-hearted girl, Zoe,&rdquo; said Vizard, approvingly; then,
+      recovering himself, &ldquo;But don't you be blinded by sentiment. She deserves a
+      good hiding for not parting with her ring. Where is the sense of starving,
+      with thirty pounds on your finger?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe smiled, and said his words were harder than his deeds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because he doesn't mean a word he says,&rdquo; put in Fanny Dover, uneasy at
+      the long cessation of her tongue, for all conversation with Don Cigar had
+      proved impracticable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you there still, my Lady Disdain?&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;I thought you were
+      gone to bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You might well think that. I had nothing to keep me up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Said Zoe, rather smartly, &ldquo;Oh, yes, you had&mdash;Curiosity;&rdquo; then,
+      turning to her brother, &ldquo;In short, you make your mind quite easy. You have
+      lent your money, or given it, to a worthy person, but a little
+      wrong-headed. However&rdquo;&mdash;with a telegraphic glance at Severne&mdash;&ldquo;she
+      is very accomplished; a linguist: she need never be in want; and she will
+      soon have her mother to help her and advise her. Perhaps Mrs. Gale has an
+      income; if not, Miss Gale, with her abilities, will easily find a place in
+      some house of business, or else take to teaching. If I was them, I would
+      set up a school.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Unanimity is rare in this world; but Zoe's good sense carried every vote.
+      Her prompter, Severne, nodded approval. Fanny said, &ldquo;Why, of course;&rdquo; and
+      Vizard, who it was feared might prove refractory, assented even more
+      warmly than the others. &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;that will be the end of it. You
+      relieve me of a weight. Really, when she told me that fable of learning
+      maltreated, honorable ambition punished, justice baffled by trickery, and
+      virtue vilified, and did not cry like the rest of you, except at her
+      father dying in New York the day she won her diploma at Montpelier, I
+      forgave the poor girl her petticoats; indeed, I lost sight of them. She
+      seemed to me a very brave little fellow, damnably ill used, and I said,
+      'This is not to be borne. Here is a fight, and justice down under dirty
+      feet.' What, ho!&rdquo; (roaring at the top of his voice).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>Zoe and Fanny</i> (screaming, and pinching Ned Severne right and left).
+      &ldquo;Ah! ah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Vizard to the rescue!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, with the evening, cool reflection came. A sister, youthful, but
+      suddenly sagacious (with a gleam of suspicion), very suddenly has stilled
+      the waves of romance, and the lips of beauty have uttered common sense.
+      Shall they utter it in vain? Never! It may be years before they do it
+      again. We must not slight rare phenomena. Zoe <i>locuta est&mdash;</i>Eccentricity
+      must be suppressed. Doctresses, warned by a little starvation, must take
+      the world as it is, and teach little girls and boys languages, and physic
+      them with arithmetic and the globes: these be drugs that do not kill; they
+      only make life a burden. I don't think we have laid out our twenty pounds
+      badly, Zoe, and there is an end of it. The incident is emptied, as the
+      French say, and (lighting bed-candles) the ladies retire with the honors
+      of war. Zoe has uttered good sense, and Miss Dover has done the next best
+      thing; she has said very little&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Dover shot in contemptuously, &ldquo;I had no companion&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &mdash;&ldquo;For want of a fool to speak her mind to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVI.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      INGENIOUS Mr. Severne having done his best to detach the poor doctress
+      from Vizard and his family, in which the reader probably discerns his true
+      motive, now bent his mind on slipping back to Homburg and looking after
+      his money. Not that he liked the job. To get hold of it, he knew he must
+      condense rascality; he must play the penitent, the lover, and the
+      scoundrel over again, all in three days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, though his egotism was brutal, he was human in this, that he had
+      plenty of good nature skin-deep, and superficial sensibilities, which made
+      him shrink a little from this hot-pressed rascality and barbarity. On the
+      other hand, he was urged by poverty, and, laughable as it may appear, by
+      jealousy. He had observed that the best of women, if they are not only
+      abandoned by him they love, but also flattered and adored by scores, will
+      some times yield to the joint attacks of desolation, pique, vanity, etc.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this state of fluctuation he made up his mind so far as this: he would
+      manage so as to be able to go.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Even this demanded caution. So he began by throwing out, in a seeming
+      careless way, that he ought to go down into Huntingdonshire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you ought,&rdquo; said Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No objection was taken, and they rather thought he would go next day. But
+      that was not his game. It would never do to go while they were in London.
+      So he kept postponing, and saying he would not tear himself away; and at
+      last, the day before they were to go down to Barfordshire, he affected to
+      yield to a remonstrance of Vizard, and said he would see them off, and
+      then run down to Huntingdonshire, look into his affairs, and cross the
+      country to Barfordshire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You might take Homburg on the way,&rdquo; said Fanny, out of fun&mdash;<i>her</i>
+      fun&mdash;not really meaning it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne cast a piteous look at Zoe. &ldquo;For shame, Fanny!&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;And why
+      put Homburg into his head?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I had forgotten there was such a place,&rdquo; said Mr. Severne, taking
+      his cue dexterously from Zoe, and feigning innocent amazement. Zoe colored
+      with pleasure. This was at breakfast. At afternoon tea something happened.
+      The ladies were upstairs packing, an operation on which they can bestow as
+      many hours as the thing needs minutes. One servant brought in the tea;
+      another came in soon after with a card, and said it was for Miss Vizard;
+      but he brought it to Harrington. He read it:
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;MISS RHODA GALE, M.D.&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Send it up to Miss Vizard,&rdquo; said he. The man was going out: he stopped
+      him, and said, &ldquo;You can show the lady in here, all the same.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhoda Gale was ushered in. She had a new gown and bonnet, not showy, but
+      very nice. She colored faintly at sight of the two gentlemen; but Vizard
+      soon put her at her ease. He shook hands with her, and said, &ldquo;Sit down,
+      Miss Gale; my sister will soon be here. I have sent your card up to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall I tell her?&rdquo; said Severne, with the manner of one eager to be
+      agreeable to the visitor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you please, sir,&rdquo; said Miss Gale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne went out zealously, darted up to Zoe's room, knocked, and said,
+      &ldquo;Pray come down: here is that doctress.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime, Jack was giving Gill the card, and Gill was giving it Mary to
+      give to the lady. It got to Zoe's room in a quarter of an hour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Any news from mamma?&rdquo; asked Vizard, in his blunt way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good news?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. My mother writes me that I must not expect her. She has to fight with
+      a dishonest executor. Oh, money, money!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment Zoe entered the room, but Severne paced the landing. He did
+      not care to face Miss Gale; and even in that short interval of time he had
+      persuaded Zoe to protect her brother against this formidable young lady,
+      and shorten the interview if she could.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So Zoe entered the room bristling with defense of her brother. At sight of
+      her, Miss Gale rose, and her features literally shone with pleasure. This
+      was rather disarming to one so amiable as Zoe, and she was surprised into
+      smiling sweetly in return; but still her quick, defensive eye drank Miss
+      Gale on the spot, and saw, with alarm, the improvement in her appearance.
+      She was very healthy, as indeed she deserved to be; for she was singularly
+      temperate, drank nothing but water and weak tea without sugar, and never
+      eat nor drank except at honest meals. Her youth and pure constitution had
+      shaken off all that pallor, and the pleasure of seeing Zoe lent her a
+      lovely color. Zoe microscoped her in one moment: not one beautiful feature
+      in her whole face; eyes full of intellect, but not in the least
+      love-darting; nose, an aquiline steadily reversed; mouth, vastly
+      expressive, but large; teeth, even and white, but ivory, not pearl; chin,
+      ordinary; head symmetrical, and set on with grace. I may add, to complete
+      the picture, that she had a way of turning this head, clean, swift, and
+      birdlike, without turning her body. That familiar action of hers was fine&mdash;so
+      full of fire and intelligence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe settled in one moment that she was downright plain, but might probably
+      be that mysterious and incomprehensible and dangerous creature, &ldquo;a
+      gentleman's beauty,&rdquo; which, to women, means no beauty at all, but a
+      witch-like creature, that goes and hits foul, and eclipses real beauty&mdash;dolls,
+      to wit&mdash;by some mysterious magic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray sit down,&rdquo; said Zoe, formally. Rhoda sat down, and hesitated a
+      moment. She felt a frost.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard helped her, &ldquo;Miss Gale has heard from her mother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Miss Vizard,&rdquo; said Rhoda, timidly; &ldquo;and very bad news. She cannot
+      come at present; and I am so distressed at what I have done in borrowing
+      that money of you; and see, I have spent nearly three pounds of it in
+      dress; but I have brought the rest back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe looked at her brother, perplexed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stuff and nonsense!&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;You will not take it, Zoe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes; if you please, do,&rdquo; said Rhoda still to Zoe. &ldquo;When I borrowed
+      it, I felt sure I could repay it; but it is not so now. My mother says it
+      may be months before she can come, and she forbids me positively to go to
+      her. Oh! but for that, I'd put on boy's clothes, and go as a common sailor
+      to get to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard fidgeted on his chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose I mustn't go in a passion,&rdquo; said he, dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who cares?&rdquo; said Miss Gale, turning her head sharply on him in the way I
+      have tried to describe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I care,&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;I find wrath interfere with my digestion. Please
+      go on, and tell us what your mother says. She has more common sense than
+      somebody else I won't name&mdash;politeness forbids.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, who doubts that?&rdquo; said the lady, with frank good humor. &ldquo;Of course
+      she has more sense than any of us. Well, my mother says&mdash;oh, Miss
+      Vizard!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, she doesn't now. She never heard the name of Vizard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale was in no humor for feeble jokes. She turned half angrily away
+      from him to Zoe. &ldquo;She says I have been well educated, and know languages;
+      and we are both under a cloud, and I had better give up all thought of
+      medicine, and take to teaching.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Miss Gale,&rdquo; said Zoe, &ldquo;if you ask <i>me,</i> I must say I think it
+      is good advice. With all your gifts, how can you fight the world? We are
+      all interested in you here; and it is a curious thing, but do you know we
+      agreed the other day you would have to give up medicine, and fall into
+      some occupation in which there are many ladies already to keep you in
+      countenance. Teaching was mentioned, I think; was it not, Harrington?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhoda Gale sighed deeply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not surprised,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;Most women of the world think with you.
+      But oh, Miss Vizard, please take into account all that I have done and
+      suffered for medicine! Is all that to go for <i>nothing?</i> Think what a
+      bitter thing it must be to do, and then to undo; to labor and study, and
+      then knock it all down&mdash;to cut a slice out of one's life, out of the
+      very heart of it&mdash;and throw it clean away. I know it is hard for you
+      to enter into the feelings of any one who loves science, and is told to
+      desert it. But suppose you had loved a <i>man</i> you were proud of&mdash;loved
+      him for five years&mdash;and then they came to you and said, 'There are
+      difficulties in the way; he is as worthy as ever, and he will never desert
+      <i>you;</i> but you must give <i>him</i> up, and try and get a taste for
+      human rubbish: it will only be five years of wasted life, wasted youth,
+      wasted seed-time, wasted affection, and then a long vegetable life of
+      unavailing regrets.' I love science as other women love men. If I am to
+      give up science, why not die? Then I shall not feel my loss; and I know
+      how to die without pain. Oh, the world is cruel! Ah! I am too unfortunate!
+      Everybody else is rewarded for patience, prudence, temperance, industry,
+      and a life with high and almost holy aims; but I am punished, afflicted,
+      crushed under the injustice of the day. Do not make me a nurse-maid. I <i>won't</i>
+      be a governess; and I must not die, because that would grieve my mother.
+      Have pity on me! have pity!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She trembled all over, and stretched out her hands to Zoe with truly
+      touching supplication.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe forgot her part, or lost the power to play it well. She turned her
+      head away and would not assent; but two large tears rolled out of her
+      beautiful eyes. Miss Gale, who had risen in the ardor of her appeal, saw
+      that, and it set her off. She leaned her brow against the mantel-piece,
+      not like a woman, but a brave boy, that does not want to be seen crying,
+      and she faltered out, &ldquo;In France I am a learned physician; and here to be
+      a house-maid! For I won't live on borrowed money. I am very unfortunate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne, who had lost patience, came swiftly in, and found them in this
+      position, and Vizard walking impatiently about the room in a state of
+      emotion which he was pleased to call anger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe, in a tearful voice, said, &ldquo;I am unable to advise you. It is very hard
+      that any one so deserving should be degraded.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard burst out, &ldquo;It is harder the world should be so full of
+      conventional sneaks; and that I was near making one of them. The last
+      thing we ever think of, in this paltry world, is justice, and it ought to
+      be the first. Well, for once I've got the power to be just, and just I'll
+      be, by God! Come, leave off sniveling, you two, and take a lesson in
+      justice&mdash;from a beginner: converts are always the hottest, you know.
+      Miss Gale, you shall not be driven out of science, and your life and labor
+      wasted. You shall doctor Barfordshire, and teach it English, too, if any
+      woman can. This is the programme. I farm two hundred acres&mdash;<i>vicariously,</i>
+      of course. Nobody in England has brains to do anything <i>himself.</i>
+      That weakness is confined to your late father's country, and they suffer
+      for it by outfighting, outlying, outmaneuvering, outbullying, and
+      outwitting us whenever we encounter them. Well, the farmhouse is large.
+      The bailiff has no children. There is a wing furnished, and not occupied.
+      You shall live there, with the right of cutting vegetables, roasting
+      chickens, sucking eggs, and riding a couple of horses off their legs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what am I to do for all that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, only the work of two men. You must keep my house in perfect health.
+      The servants have a trick of eating till they burst. You will have to sew
+      them up again. There are only seven hundred people in the village. You
+      must cure them all; and, if you do, I promise you their lasting
+      ingratitude. Outside the village, you must make them pay&mdash;<i>if you
+      can.</i> We will find you patients of every degree. But whether you will
+      ever get any fees out of them, this deponent sayeth not. However, I can
+      answer for the <i>ladies</i> of our county, that they will all cheat you&mdash;if
+      they can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale's color came and went, and her eyes sparkled. &ldquo;Oh, how good you
+      are! Is there a hospital?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;County hospital, and infirmary, within three miles. Fine country for
+      disease. Intoxication prevalent, leading to a bountiful return of
+      accidents. I promise you wounds, bruises, and putrefying sores, and
+      everything to make you comfortable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't laugh at me. I am so afraid I shall&mdash;no, I hope I shall
+      not disgrace you. And, then, it is against the law; but I don't mind
+      that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course not. What is the law to ladies with elevated views? By-the-by,
+      what is the penalty&mdash;six months?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no. Twenty pounds. Oh, dear! another twenty pounds!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Make your mind easy. Unjust laws are a dead letter on a soil so primitive
+      as ours. I shall talk to Uxmoor and a few more, and no magistrate will
+      ever summons you, nor jury convict you, in Barfordshire. You will be as
+      safe there as in Upper Canada. Now then&mdash;attend. We leave for
+      Barfordshire to-morrow. You will go down on the first of next month. By
+      that time all will be ready: start for Taddington, eleven o'clock. You
+      will be met at the Taddington Station, and taken to your farmhouse. You
+      will find a fire ten days old, and, for once in your life, young lady, you
+      will find an aired bed; because my man Harris will be house-maid, and not
+      let one of your homicidal sex set foot in the crib.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale looked from Vizard to his sister, like a person in a dream. She
+      was glowing with happiness; but it did not spoil her. She said, humbly and
+      timidly, &ldquo;I hope I may prove worthy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is <i>your</i> business,&rdquo; said Vizard, with supreme indifference;
+      &ldquo;mine is to be just. Have a cup of tea?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, thank you; and it will be a part of my duty to object to
+      afternoon tea. But I am afraid none of you will mind me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After a few more words, in which Severne, seeing Vizard was in one of his
+      iron moods, and immovable as him of Rhodes, affected now to be a partisan
+      of the new arrangement, Miss Gale rose to retire. Severne ran before her
+      to the door, and opened it, as to a queen. She bowed formally to him as
+      she went out. When she was on the other side the door, she turned her head
+      in her sharp, fiery way, and pointed with her finger to the emerald ring
+      on his little finger, a very fine one. &ldquo;Changed hands,&rdquo; said she: &ldquo;it was
+      on the third finger of your left hand when we met last;&rdquo; and she passed
+      down the stairs with a face half turned to him, and a cruel smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne stood fixed, looking after her; cold crept among his bones: he was
+      roused by a voice above him saying, very inquisitively, &ldquo;What does she
+      say?&rdquo; He looked up, and it was Fanny Dover leaning over the balusters of
+      the next landing. She had evidently seen all, and heard some. Severne had
+      no means of knowing how much. His heart beat rapidly. Yet he told her,
+      boldly, that the doctress had admired his emerald ring: as if to give
+      greater force to this explanation, he took it off, and showed it her, very
+      amicably. He calculated that she could hardly, at that distance, have
+      heard every syllable, and, at the same time, he was sure she had seen Miss
+      Gale point at the ring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hum!&rdquo; said Fanny; and that was all she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne went to his own room to think. He was almost dizzy. He dreaded
+      this Rhoda Gale. She was incomprehensible, and held a sword over his head.
+      Tongues go fast in the country. At the idea of this keen girl and Zoe
+      Vizard sitting under a tree for two hours, with nothing to do but talk,
+      his blood ran cold. Surely Miss Gale must hate him. She would not always
+      spare him. For once he could not see his way clear. Should he tell her
+      half the truth, and throw himself on her mercy? Should he make love to
+      her? Or what should he do? One thing he saw clear enough: he must not quit
+      the field. Sooner or later, all would depend on his presence, his tact,
+      and his ready wit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He felt like a man who could not swim, and wades in deepening water. He
+      must send somebody to Homburg, or abandon all thought of his money. Why
+      abandon it? Why not return to Ina Klosking? His judgment, alarmed at the
+      accumulating difficulties, began to intrude its voice. What was he turning
+      his back on? A woman, lovely, loving, and celebrated, who was very likely
+      pining for him, and would share, not only her winnings at play with him,
+      but the large income she would make by her talent. What was he following?
+      A woman divinely lovely and good, but whom he could not possess, or, if he
+      did, could not hold her long, and whose love must end in horror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But nature is not so unfair to honest men as to give wisdom to the
+      cunning. Rarely does reason prevail against passion in such a mind as
+      Severne's. It ended, as might have been expected, in his going down to
+      Vizard Court with Zoe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      An express train soon whirled them down to Taddington, in Barfordshire.
+      There was Harris, with three servants, waiting for them, one with a light
+      cart for their luggage, and two with an open carriage and two spanking
+      bays, whose coats shone like satin. The servants, liveried, and
+      top-booted, and buckskin-gloved, and spruce as if just out of a bandbox,
+      were all smartness and respectful zeal. They got the luggage out in a
+      trice, with Harris's assistance. Mr. Harris then drove away like the wind
+      in his dog-cart; the traveling party were soon in the barouche. It glided
+      away, and they rolled on easy springs at the rate of twelve miles an hour
+      till they came to the lodge-gate. It was opened at their approach, and
+      they drove full half a mile over a broad gravel path, with rich grass on
+      each side, and grand old patriarchs, oak and beech, standing here and
+      there, and dappled deer, grazing or lying, in mottled groups, till they
+      came to a noble avenue of lofty lime-trees, with stems of rare size and
+      smoothness, and towering piles on piles of translucent leaves, that glowed
+      in the sun like flakes of gold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the end of this avenue was seen an old mansion, built of that beautiful
+      clean red brick&mdash;which seems to have died out&mdash;and white-stone
+      facings and mullions, with gables and oriel windows by the dozen; but
+      between the avenue and the house was a large oval plot of turf, with a
+      broad gravel road running round it; and attached to the house, but thrown
+      a little back, were the stables, which formed three sides of a good-sized
+      quadrangle, with an enormous clock in the center. The lawn,
+      kitchen-garden, ice-houses, pineries, green houses, revealed themselves
+      only in peeps as the carriage swept round the spacious plot and drew up at
+      the hall door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No ringing of bells nor knocking. Even as the coachman tightened his
+      reins, the great hall door was swung open, and two footmen appeared.
+      Harris brought up a rear-guard, and received the party in due state.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A double staircase, about ten feet broad, rose out of the hall, and up
+      this Mr. Harris conducted Severne, the only stranger, into a bedroom with
+      a great oriel window looking west.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is your room, sir,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Shall I unpack your things when they
+      come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne assented, and that perfect major-domo informed him that luncheon
+      was ready, and retired cat-like, and closed the door so softly no sound
+      was heard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Severne looked about him, and admitted to himself that, with all his
+      experiences of life, this was his first bedroom. It was of great size, to
+      begin. The oriel window was twenty feet wide, and had half a dozen
+      casements, each with rose-colored blinds, though some of them needed no
+      blinds, for green creepers, with flowers like clusters of grapes, curled
+      round the mullions, and the sun shone mellowed through their leaves.
+      Enormous curtains of purple cloth, with cold borders, hung at each side in
+      mighty folds, to be drawn at night-time when the eye should need repose
+      from feasting upon color.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There were three brass bedsteads in a row, only four feet broad, with
+      spring-beds, hair mattresses a foot thick, and snowy sheets for coverlets,
+      instead of counter-panes; so that, if you were hot, feverish, or sleepless
+      in one bed, you might try another, or two.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thick carpets and rugs, satin-wood wardrobes, prodigious wash-hand stands,
+      with china backs four feet high. Towel-horses, nearly as big as a donkey,
+      with short towels, long towels, thick towels, thin towels, bathing sheets,
+      etc.; baths of every shape; and cans of every size; a large knee-hole
+      table; paper and envelopes of every size. In short, a room to sleep in,
+      study in, live in, and stick fast in, night and day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But what is this? A Gothic arch, curtained with violet merino. He draws
+      the curtain. It is an ante-room. One half of it is a bathroom, screened,
+      and paved with encaustic tiles that run up the walls, so you may splash to
+      your heart's content. The rest is a studio, and contains a choice little
+      library of well-bound books in glass cases, a piano-forte, and a
+      harmonium. Severne tried them; they were both in perfect tune. Two clocks,
+      one in each room, were also in perfect time. Thereat he wondered. But the
+      truth is, it was a house wherein precision reigned: a tuner and a
+      clockmaker visited by contract every month.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This, and two more guest-chambers, and the great dining-hall, were built
+      under the Plantagenets, when all large landowners entertained kings and
+      princes with their retinues. As to that part of the house which was built
+      under the Tudors, there are hundreds of country houses as important, only
+      Mr. Severne had not been inside them, and was hardly aware to what
+      perfection rational luxury is brought in the houses of our large landed
+      gentry. He sat down in an antique chair of enormous size; the back went
+      higher than his head, the seat ran out as far as his ankle, when seated;
+      there was room in it for two, and it was stuffed&mdash;ye gods, how it was
+      stuffed! The sides, the back, and the seat were all hair mattresses, a
+      foot thick at least. Here nestled our sybarite; with the sun shining
+      through leaves, and splashing his beautiful head with golden tints and
+      transparent shadows, and felt in the temple of comfort, and incapable of
+      leaving it alive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went down to luncheon. It was distinguishable from dinner in this, that
+      they all got up after it, and Zoe said, &ldquo;Come with me, children.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny and Severne rose at the word. Vizard said he felt excluded from that
+      invitation, having cut his wise-teeth; so he would light a cigar instead;
+      and he did. Zoe took the other two into the kitchen garden&mdash;four
+      acres, surrounded with a high wall, of orange-red brick, full of little
+      holes where the nails had been. Zoe, being now at home, and queen, wore a
+      new and pretty deportment. She was half maternal, and led her friend and
+      lover about like two kids. She took them to this and that fruit tree, set
+      them to eat, and looked on, superior. By way of climax, she led them to
+      the south wall, crimson with ten thousand peaches and nectarines; she
+      stepped over the border, took superb peaches and nectarines from the
+      trees, and gave them with her own hand to Fanny and Severne. The head
+      gardener glared in dismay at the fair spoliator. Zoe observed him, and
+      laughed. &ldquo;Poor Lucas,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;he would like them all to hang on the
+      tree till they fell off with a wasp inside. Eat as many as ever you can,
+      young people; Lucas is amusing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never had peaches enough off the tree before,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No more have I,&rdquo; said Severne. &ldquo;This must be the Elysian fields, and I
+      shall spoil my dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who cares?&rdquo; said Fanny, recklessly. &ldquo;Dinner comes every day, and always
+      at the only time when one has no appetite. But this eating of peaches&mdash;Oh,
+      what a beauty!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Children,&rdquo; said Zoe, gravely, &ldquo;I advise you not to eat above a dozen. Do
+      not enter on a fatal course, which in one brief year will reduce you to a
+      hapless condition. There&mdash;I was let loose among them at sixteen, and
+      ever since they pall. But I do like to see you eat them, and your eyes
+      sparkle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is too bad of you,&rdquo; said Fanny, driving her white teeth deep into a
+      peach. &ldquo;The idea! Now, Mr. Severne, do my eyes sparkle?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Like diamonds. But that proves nothing: it is their normal condition.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, make him a courtesy,&rdquo; said Zoe, &ldquo;and come along.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She took them into the village. It was one of the old sort; little
+      detached houses with little gardens in front, in all of which were a few
+      humble flowers, and often a dark rose of surpassing beauty. Behind each
+      cottage was a large garden, with various vegetables, and sometimes a few
+      square yards of wheat. There was one little row of new brick houses
+      standing together; their number five, their name Newtown. This town of
+      five houses was tiled; the detached houses were thatched, and the walls
+      plastered and whitewashed like snow. Such whitewash seems never to be made
+      in towns, or to lose its whiteness in a day. This broad surface of vivid
+      white was a background, against which the clinging roses, the clustering,
+      creeping honeysuckles, and the deep young ivy with its tender green and
+      polished leaves, shone lovely; wood smoke mounted, thin and silvery, from
+      a cottage or two, that were cooking, and embroidered the air, not fouled
+      it. The little windows had diamond panes, as in the Middle Ages, and every
+      cottage door was open, suggesting hospitality and dearth of thieves. There
+      was also that old essential, a village green&mdash;a broad strip of sacred
+      turf, that was everybody's by custom, though in strict law Vizard's. Here
+      a village cow and a donkey went about grazing the edges, for the turf in
+      general was smooth as a lawn. By the side of the green was the village
+      ale-house. After the green other cottages; two of them
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     &ldquo;Quite overcanopied with lush woodbine,
+     With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      One of these was called Marks's cottage, and the other Allen's. The rustic
+      church stood in the middle of a hill nearly half a mile from the village.
+      They strolled up to it. It had a tower built of flint, and clad on two
+      sides with ivy three feet deep, and the body of the church was as snowy as
+      the cottages, and on the south side a dozen swallows and martins had
+      lodged their mortar nests under the eaves; they looked, against the white,
+      like rugged gray stone bosses. Swallows and martins innumerable wheeled,
+      swift as arrows, round the tower, chirping, and in and out of the church
+      through an open window, and added their music and their motion to the
+      beauty of the place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Returning from the church to the village, Miss Dover lagged behind, and
+      then Severne infused into his voice those tender tones, which give amorous
+      significance to the poorest prose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What an Arcadia!&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You would not like to be banished to it,&rdquo; said Zoe, demurely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That depends,&rdquo; said he, significantly. Instead of meeting him half way
+      and demanding an explanation, Zoe turned coy and fell to wondering what
+      Fanny was about.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't compel her to join us,&rdquo; said Severne. &ldquo;She is meditating.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On what? She is not much given that way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On her past sins; and preparing new ones.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For shame! She is no worse than we are. Do you really admire Islip?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed I do, if this is Islip?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is then; and this cottage with the cluster-rose tree all over the
+      walls is Marks's cottage. We are rather proud of Marks's cottage,&rdquo; said
+      she, timidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a bower,&rdquo; said he, warmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This encouraged Zoe, and she said, &ldquo;Is there not a wonderful charm in
+      cottages? I often think I should like to live in Marks's. Have you ever
+      had that feeling?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never. But I have it now. I should like to live in it&mdash;with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe blushed like a rose, but turned it off. &ldquo;You would soon wish yourself
+      back again at Vizard Court,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;Fanny&mdash;Fanny!&rdquo; and she stood
+      still.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny came up. &ldquo;Well, what is the matter now?&rdquo; said she, with pert, yet
+      thoroughly apathetic, indifference.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The matter is&mdash;extravagances. Here is a man of the world pretending
+      he would like to end his days in Marks's cottage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop a bit. It was to be with somebody I loved. And wouldn't you, Miss
+      Dover?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh dear, no. We should be sure to quarrel, cooped up in such a mite of a
+      place. No; give me Vizard Court, and plenty of money, and the man of my
+      heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have not got one, I'm afraid,&rdquo; said Zoe, &ldquo;or you would not put him
+      last.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not? when he is of the last importance,&rdquo; said Fanny, flippantly, and
+      turned the laugh her way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They strolled through the village together, but in the grounds of Vizard
+      Court Fanny fairly gave them the slip. Severne saw his chance, and said,
+      tenderly, &ldquo;Did you hear what she said about a large house being best for
+      lovers?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I heard her,&rdquo; said Zoe, defensively; &ldquo;but very likely she did not
+      mean it. That young lady's words are air. She will say one thing one day
+      and another the next.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know. There is one thing every young lady's mind is made up
+      about, and that is, whether it is to be love or money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She was for both, if I remember,&rdquo; said Zoe, still coldly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because she is not in love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I really believe she is not&mdash;for once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, you see. She is in an unnatural condition.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For her, very.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So she is no judge. No; I should prefer Marks's cottage. The smaller the
+      better; because then the woman I love could not ever be far from me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He lowered his voice, and drove the insidious words into her tender bosom.
+      She began to tremble and heave, and defend herself feebly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What have I to do with that? You mustn't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can I help it? You know the woman I love&mdash;I adore&mdash;and
+      would not the smallest cottage in England be a palace if I was blessed
+      with her sweet love and her divine company? Oh, Zoe, Zoe!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she did defend herself, after a fashion: &ldquo;I won't listen to such&mdash;Edward!&rdquo;
+       Having uttered his name with divine tenderness, she put her hands to her
+      blushing face, and fled from him. At the head of the stairs she
+      encountered Fanny, looking satirical. She reprimanded her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fanny,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;you really must not do <i>that&rdquo;</i>&mdash;[pause]&mdash;&ldquo;out
+      of our own grounds. Kiss me, darling. I am a happy girl.&rdquo; And she curled
+      round Fanny, and panted on her shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Artful, known unto men as Fanny Dover, had already traced out in her
+      own mind a line of conduct, which the above reprimand, minus the above
+      kisses, taken at their joint algebraical value, did not disturb. The fact
+      is, Fanny hated home; and liked Vizard Court above all places. But she was
+      due at home, and hanging on to the palace of comfort by a thread. Any day
+      her mother, out of natural affection and good-breeding, might write for
+      her; and unless one of her hosts interfered, she should have to go. But
+      Harrington went for nothing in this, unfortunately. His hospitality was
+      unobtrusive, but infinite. It came to him from the Plantagenets through a
+      long line of gentlemen who shone in vices; but inhospitality was unknown
+      to the whole chain, and every human link in it. He might very likely
+      forget to invite Fanny Dover unless reminded; but, when she was there, she
+      was welcome to stay forever if she chose. It was all one to him. He never
+      bothered himself to amuse his guests, and so they never bored him. He
+      never let them. He made them at home; put his people and his horses at
+      their service; and preserved his even tenor. So, then, the question of
+      Fanny's stay lay with Zoe; and Zoe would do one of two things: she would
+      either say, with well-bred hypocrisy, she ought not to keep Fanny any
+      longer from her mother&mdash;and so get rid of her; or would interpose,
+      and give some reason or other. What that reason would be, Fanny had no
+      precise idea. She was sure it would not be the true one; but there her
+      insight into futurity and females ceased. Now, Zoe was thoroughly
+      fascinated by Severne, and Fanny saw it; and yet Zoe was too high-bred a
+      girl to parade the village and the neighborhood with him alone&mdash;and
+      so placard her attachment&mdash;before they were engaged, and the
+      engagement sanctioned by the head of the house. This consideration enabled
+      Miss Artful to make herself necessary to Zoe. Accordingly, she showed, on
+      the very first afternoon, that she was prepared to play the convenient
+      friend, and help Zoe to combine courtship with propriety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This plan once conceived, she adhered to it with pertinacity and skill.
+      She rode and walked with them, and in public put herself rather forward,
+      and asserted the leader; but sooner or later, at a proper time and place,
+      she lagged behind, or cantered ahead, and manipulated the wooing with tact
+      and dexterity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The consequence was that Zoe wrote of her own accord to Mrs. Dover, asking
+      leave to detain Fanny, because her brother had invited a college friend,
+      and it was rather awkward for her without Fanny, there being no other lady
+      in the house at present.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She showed this to Fanny, who said, earnestly,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As long as ever you like, dear. Mamma will not miss me a bit. Make your
+      mind easy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard, knowing his sister, and entirely deceived in Severne, exercised no
+      vigilance; for, to do Zoe justice, none was necessary, if Severne had been
+      the man he seemed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no mother in the house to tremble for her daughter, to be
+      jealous, to watch, to question, to demand a clear explanation&mdash;in
+      short, to guard her young as only the mothers of creation do.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Elysian days rolled on. Zoe was in heaven, and Severne in a fool's
+      paradise, enjoying everything, hoping everything, forgetting everything,
+      and fearing nothing. He had come to this, with all his cunning; he was
+      intoxicated and blinded with passion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now it was that the idea of marrying Zoe first entered his head. But he
+      was not mad enough for that. He repelled it with terror, rage, and
+      despair. He passed an hour or two of agony in his own room, and came down,
+      looking pale and exhausted. But, indeed, the little Dumas, though he does
+      not pass for a moralist, says truly and well, &ldquo;Les amours ille'gitimes
+      portent toujours des fruits amers;&rdquo; and Ned Severne's turn was come to
+      suffer a few of the pangs he had inflicted gayly on more than one woman
+      and her lover.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One morning at breakfast Vizard made two announcements. &ldquo;Here's news,&rdquo;
+       said he; &ldquo;Dr. Gale writes to postpone her visit. She is ill, poor girl!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear! what is the matter?&rdquo; inquired Zoe, always kind-hearted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gastritis&mdash;so she says.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; inquired Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Severne, who was much pleased at this opportune illness, could not
+      restrain his humor, and said it was a disorder produced by the fumes of
+      gas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe, accustomed to believe this gentleman's lies, and not giving herself
+      time to think, said there was a great escape in the passage the night she
+      went there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then there was a laugh at her simplicity. She joined in it, but shook her
+      finger at Master Severne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard then informed Zoe that Lord Uxmoor had been staying some time at
+      Basildon Hall, about nine miles off; so he had asked him to come over for
+      a week, and he had accepted. &ldquo;He will be here to dinner,&rdquo; said Vizard. He
+      then rang the bell, and sent for Harris, and ordered him to prepare the
+      blue chamber for Lord Uxmoor, and see the things aired himself. Harris
+      having retired, cat-like, Vizard explained, &ldquo;My womankind shall not kill
+      Uxmoor. He is a good fellow, and his mania&mdash;we have all got a mania,
+      my young friends&mdash;is a respectable one. He wants to improve the
+      condition of the poor&mdash;against their will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His friend! that was so ill. I hope he has not lost him,&rdquo; said Zoe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He hasn't lost him in this letter, Miss Gush,&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;But you can
+      ask him when he comes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I shall ask him,&rdquo; said Zoe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Half an hour before dinner there was a grating of wheels on the gravel.
+      Severne looked out of his bedroom window, and saw Uxmoor drive up. Dark
+      blue coach; silver harness, glittering in the sun; four chestnuts, glossy
+      as velvet; two neat grooms as quick as lightning. He was down in a moment,
+      and his traps in the hall, and the grooms drove the trap round to the
+      stables.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were all in the drawing-room when Lord Uxmoor appeared; greeted Zoe
+      with respectful warmth, Vizard with easy friendship, Severne and Miss
+      Dover with well-bred civility. He took Zoe out, and sat at her right hand
+      at dinner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the new guest, he had the first claim on her attention and they had a
+      topic ready&mdash;his sick friend. He told her all about him, and his
+      happy recovery, with simple warmth. Zoe was interested and sympathetic;
+      Fanny listened, and gave Severne short answers. Severne felt dethroned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was rather mortified, and a little uneasy, but too brave to show it. He
+      bided his time. In the drawing-room Lord Uxmoor singled out Zoe, and
+      courted her openly with respectful admiration. Severne drew Fanny apart,
+      and exerted himself to amuse her. Zoe began to cast uneasy glances.
+      Severne made common cause with Fanny. &ldquo;We have no chance against a lord,
+      or a lady, you and I, Miss Dover.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I haven't,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;but you need not complain. She wishes she were
+      here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So do I. Will you help me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I shall not. You can make love to me. I am tired of never being made
+      love to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said this ingenuous youth, &ldquo;you certainly do not get your deserts
+      in this house. Even I am so blinded by my passion for Zoe, that I forget
+      she does not monopolize all the beauty and grace and wit in the house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;I can bear a good deal of it&mdash;after such a
+      fast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no doubt you can bear a good deal. You are one of those that
+      inspire feelings, but don't share them. Give me a chance; let me sing you
+      a song.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A love song?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you sing it as well as you can talk it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With a little encouragement. If you would kindly stand at the end of the
+      piano, and let me see your beautiful eyes fixed on me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With disdain?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With just suspicion?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; with unmerited pity.&rdquo; And he began to open the piano.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! do you accompany yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, after a fashion; by that means I don't get run over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then this accomplished person fixed his eyes on Fanny Dover, and sung her
+      an Italian love song in the artificial passionate style of that nation;
+      and the English girl received it pointblank with complacent composure. But
+      Zoe started and thrilled at the first note, and crept up to the piano as
+      if drawn by an irresistible cord. She gazed on the singer with amazement
+      and admiration. His voice was a low tenor, round, and sweet as honey. It
+      was a real voice, a musical instrument.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More tunable than lark to shepherd's ear When wheat is green, when
+      hawthorn buds appear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the Klosking had cured him of the fatal whine which stains the
+      amateur, male or female, and had taught him climax, so that he articulated
+      and sung with perfect purity, and rang out his final notes instead of
+      slurring them. In short, in plain passages he was a reflection, on a small
+      scale, of that great singer. He knew this himself, and had kept clear of
+      song: it was so full of reminiscence and stings. But now jealousy drove
+      him to it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Vizard's rule to leave the room whenever Zoe or Fanny opened the
+      piano. So in the evening that instrument of torture was always mute.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But hearing a male voice, the squire, who doted on good music, as he
+      abhorred bad, strolled in upon the chance; and he stared at the singer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the song ended, there was a little clamor of ladies' voices calling
+      him to account for concealing his talent from them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was afraid of Vizard,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;he hates bad music.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;None of your tricks,&rdquo; said the squire; &ldquo;yours is not bad music; you speak
+      your words articulately, and even eloquently. Your accompaniment is a
+      little queer, especially in the bass; but you find out your mistakes, and
+      slip out of them Heaven knows how. Zoe, you are tame, but accurate.
+      Correct his accompaniments some day&mdash;when I'm out of hearing.
+      Practice drives me mad. Give us another.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne laughed good-humoredly. &ldquo;Thus encouraged, who could resist?&rdquo; said
+      he. &ldquo;It is so delightful to sing in a shower bath of criticism.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He sung a sprightly French song, with prodigious spirit and dash.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They all applauded, and Vizard said, &ldquo;I see how it is. We were not good
+      enough. He would not come out for us. He wanted the public. Uxmoor, you
+      are the public. It is to you we owe this pretty warbler. Have you any
+      favorite song, Public? Say the word, and he shall sing it you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne turned rather red at that, and was about to rise slowly, when
+      Uxmoor, who was instinctively a gentleman, though not a courtier, said, &ldquo;I
+      don't presume to choose Mr. Severne' s songs; but if we are not tiring
+      him, I own I should like to hear an English song; for I am no musician,
+      and the words are everything with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne assented dryly, and made him a shrewd return for his courtesy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe had a brave rose in her black hair. He gave her one rapid glance of
+      significance, and sung a Scotch song, almost as finely as it could be sung
+      in a room:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My love is like the red, red rose That's newly sprung in June; My love is
+      like a melody That's sweetly played in tune.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The dog did not slur the short notes and howl upon the long ones, as did a
+      little fat Jew from London, with a sweet voice and no brains, whom I last
+      heard howl it in the Theater Royal, Edinburgh. No; he retained the pure
+      rhythm of the composition, and, above all, sung it with the gentle
+      earnestness and unquavering emotion of a Briton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It struck Zoe's heart pointblank. She drew back, blushing like the rose in
+      her hair and in the song, and hiding her happiness from all but the keen
+      Fanny. Everybody but Zoe applauded the song. She spoke only with her
+      cheeks and eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne rose from the piano. He was asked to sing another, but declined
+      laughingly. Indeed, soon afterward he glided out of the room and was seen
+      no more that night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Consequently he became the topic of conversation; and the three, who
+      thought they knew him, vied in his praises.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the morning an expedition was planned, and Uxmoor proffered his
+      &ldquo;four-in-hand.&rdquo; It was accepted. All young ladies like to sit behind four
+      spanking trotters; and few object to be driven by a viscount with a
+      glorious beard and large estates.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe sat by Uxmoor. Severne sat behind them with Fanny, a spectator of his
+      open admiration. He could not defend himself so well as last night, and he
+      felt humiliated by the position.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was renewed day after day. Zoe often cast a glance back, and drew him
+      into the conversation; yet, on the whole, Uxmoor thrust him aside by his
+      advantages and his resolute wooing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The same thing at dinner. It was only at night he could be number one. He
+      tuned Zoe's guitar; and one night when there was a party, he walked about
+      the room with this, and, putting his left leg out, serenaded one lady
+      after another. Barfordshire was amazed and delighted at him, but Uxmoor
+      courted Zoe as if he did not exist. He began to feel that he was the man
+      to amuse women in Barfordshire, but Uxmoor the man to marry them. He began
+      to sulk. Zoe's quick eyes saw and pitied. She was puzzled what to do. Lord
+      Uxmoor gave her no excuse for throwing cold water on him, because his
+      adoration was implied, not expressed; and he followed her up so closely,
+      she could hardly get a word with Severne. When she did, there was
+      consolation in every tone; and she took care to let drop that Lord Uxmoor
+      was going in a day or two. So he was, but he altered his mind, and asked
+      leave to stay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne looked gloomy at this, and he became dejected. He was miserable,
+      and showed it, to see what Zoe would do. What she did was to get rather
+      bored by Uxmoor, and glance from Fanny to Severne. I believe Zoe only
+      meant, &ldquo;Do pray say things to comfort him;&rdquo; but Fanny read these gentle
+      glances <i>'a la</i> Dover. She got hold of Severne one day, and said,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter with you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you can't divine,&rdquo; said he, sarcastically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh yes, I can; and it is your own fault.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My fault! That is a good joke. Did I invite this man with all his
+      advantages? That was Vizard's doing, who calls himself my friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If it was not this one, it would be some other. Can you hope to keep Zoe
+      Vizard from being courted? Why, she is the beauty of the county! and her
+      brother not married. It is no use your making love by halves to her. She
+      will go to some man who is in earnest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And am I not in earnest?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not so much as he is. You have known her four months, and never once
+      asked her to marry you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I am to be punished for my self-denial.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Self-denial! Nonsense. Men have no self-denial. It is your cowardice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be cruel. You know it is my poverty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your poverty of spirit. You gave up money for her, and that is as good as
+      if you had it still, and better. If you love Zoe, scrape up an income
+      somehow, and say the word. Why, Harrington is bewitched with you, and he
+      is rolling in money. I wouldn't lose her by cowardice, if I were you.
+      Uxmoor will offer marriage before he goes. He is staying on for that. Now,
+      take my word for it, when one man offers marriage, and the other does not,
+      there is always a good chance of the girl saying this one is in earnest,
+      and the other is not. We don't expect self-denial in a man; we don't
+      believe in it. We see you seizing upon everything else you care for; and,
+      if you don't seize on us, it wounds our vanity, the strongest passion we
+      have. Consider, Uxmoor has title, wealth, everything to bestow with the
+      wedding-ring. If he offers all that, and you don't offer all you have, how
+      much more generous he looks to her than you do!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In short, you think she will doubt my affection, if I don't ask her to
+      share my poverty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you don't, and a rich man asks her to share his all, I'm sure she
+      will. And so should I. Words are only words.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You torture me. I'd rather die than lose her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then live and win her. I've told you the way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will scrape an income together, and ask her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Upon your honor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Upon my soul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, in my opinion, you will have her in spite of Lord Uxmoor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hot from this, Edward Severne sat down and wrote a moving letter to a
+      certain cousin of his in Huntingdonshire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;MY DEAR COUSIN&mdash;I have often heard you say you were under
+      obligations to my father, and had a regard for me. Indeed, you have shown
+      the latter by letting the interest on my mortgage run out many years and
+      not foreclosing. Having no other friend, I now write to you, and throw
+      myself on your pity. I have formed a deep attachment to a young lady of
+      infinite beauty and virtue. She is above me in everything, especially in
+      fortune. Yet she deigns to love me. I can't ask her hand as a pauper; and
+      by my own folly, now deeply repented, I am little more. Now, all depends
+      on you&mdash;my happiness, my respectability. Sooner or later, I shall be
+      able to repay you all. For God's sake come to the assistance of your
+      affectionate cousin,
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;EDWARD SEVERNE.&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The brother, a man of immense estates, is an old friend, and warmly
+      attached to me. If I could only, through your temporary assistance or
+      connivance, present my estate as clear, all would be well, and I could
+      repay you afterward.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To this letter he received an immediate reply:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DEAR EDWARD&mdash;I thought you had forgotten my very existence. Yes, I
+      owe much to your father, and have always said so, and acted accordingly.
+      While you have been wandering abroad, deserting us all, I have improved
+      your estate. I have bought all the other mortgages, and of late the rent
+      has paid the interest, within a few pounds. I now make you an offer. Give
+      me a long lease of the two farms at three hundred pounds a year&mdash;they
+      will soon be vacant&mdash;and two thousand pounds out of hand, and I will
+      cancel all the mortgages, and give you a receipt for them, as paid in
+      full. This will be like paying you several thousand pounds for a
+      beneficial lease. The two thousand pounds I must insist on, in justice to
+      my own family.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your affectionate cousin,
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;GEORGE SEVERNE.&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      This munificent offer surprised and delighted Severne, and, indeed, no
+      other man but Cousin George, who had a heart of gold, and was grateful to
+      Ned's father, and also loved the scamp himself, as everybody did, would
+      have made such an offer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Our adventurer wrote, and closed with it, and gushed gratitude. Then he
+      asked himself how to get the money. Had he been married to Zoe, or not
+      thinking of her, he would have gone at once to Vizard, for the security
+      was ample. But in his present delicate situation this would not do. No; he
+      must be able to come and say, &ldquo;My estate is small, but it is clear. Here
+      is a receipt for six thousand pounds' worth of mortgages I have paid off.
+      I am poor in land but rich in experience, regrets, and love. Be my friend,
+      and trust me with Zoe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned and twisted it in his mind, and resolved on a bold course. He
+      would go to Homburg, and get that sum by hook or by crook out of Ina
+      Klosking's winnings. He took Fanny into his confidence; only he
+      substituted London for Homburg.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And oh, Miss Dover,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;do not let me suffer by going away and
+      leaving a rival behind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Suffer by it!&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;No, I mean to reward you for taking my advice.
+      Don't you say a word to <i>her.</i> It will come better from me. I'll let
+      her know what you are gone for; and she is just the girl to be upon honor,
+      and ever so much cooler to Lord Uxmoor because you are unhappy, but have
+      gone away trusting her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And his artful ally kept her word. She went into Zoe's room before dinner
+      to have it out with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the evening Severne told Vizard he must go up to London for a day or
+      two.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;Tell some of them to order the dog-cart for
+      your train.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Zoe took occasion to ask him for how long, and murmured, &ldquo;Remember how
+      we shall miss you,&rdquo; with such a look that he was in Elysium that evening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But at night he packed his bag for Homburg, and that chilled him. He lay
+      slumbering all night, but not sleeping, and waking with starts and a sense
+      of horror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At breakfast, after reading his letters, Vizard asked him what train he
+      would go by.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He said, the one o'clock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said Vizard. Then he rang the bell, countermanded the
+      dog-cart, and ordered the barouche.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A barouche for me!&rdquo; said Severne. &ldquo;Why, I am not going to take the ladies
+      to the station.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; it is to bring one here. She comes down from London five minutes
+      before you take the up train.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a general exclamation: Who was it? Aunt Maitland?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Vizard, tossing a note to Zoe&mdash;&ldquo;it is Doctress Gale.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne's countenance fell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      EDWARD SEVERNE, master of arts, dreaded Rhoda Gale, M.D. He had deluded,
+      in various degrees, several ladies that were no fools; but here was one
+      who staggered and puzzled him. Bright and keen as steel, quick and
+      spirited, yet controlled by judgment and always mistress of herself, she
+      seemed to him a new species. The worst of it was, he felt himself in the
+      power of this new woman, and, indeed, he saw no limit to the mischief she
+      might possibly do him if she and Zoe compared notes. He had thought the
+      matter over, and realized this more than he did when in London. Hence the
+      good youth's delight at her illness, noticed in a former chapter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was very thoughtful all breakfast time, and as soon as it was over drew
+      Vizard apart, and said he would postpone his visit to London until he had
+      communicated with his man of business. He would go to the station and
+      telegraph him, and by that means would do the civil and meet Miss Gale.
+      Vizard stared at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You meet my virago? Why, I thought you disapproved her entirely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; only the idea of a female doctor, not the lady herself. Besides,
+      it is a rule with me, my dear fellow, never to let myself disapprove my
+      friends' friends.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a bright idea, and you are a good fellow,&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;Go and
+      meet the pest, by all means, and bring her here to luncheon. After
+      luncheon we will drive her up to the farm and ensconce her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Edward Severne had this advantage over most impostors, that he was
+      masculine or feminine as occasion required. For instance, he could be
+      hysterical or bold to serve the turn. Another example&mdash;he watched
+      faces like a woman, and yet he could look you in the face like a man,
+      especially when he was lying. In the present conjuncture a crafty woman
+      would have bristled with all the arts of self-defense, but stayed at home
+      and kept close to Zoe. Not so our master of arts; he went manfully to meet
+      Rhoda Gale, and so secure a <i>te'te-'a-te'te,</i> and learn, if possible,
+      what she meant to do, and whether she could be cannily propitiated. He
+      reached the station before her, and wired a very intelligent person who,
+      he knew, conducted delicate inquiries, and had been very successful in a
+      divorce case, public two years before. Even as he dispatched this message
+      there was a whistling and a ringing, and the sound of a coming train, and
+      Ned Severne ran to meet Rhoda Gale with a heart palpitating a little, and
+      a face beaming greatly to order. He looked for her in the first-class
+      carriages, but she was in the second, and saw him. He did not see her till
+      she stepped out on the platform. Then he made toward her. He took off his
+      hat, and said, with respectful zeal, &ldquo;If you will tell me what luggage you
+      have, the groom shall get it out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale's eyes wandered over him loftily. &ldquo;I have only a box and a bag,
+      sir, both marked 'R. G.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Joe,&rdquo; said he&mdash;for he had already made friends with all the
+      servants, and won their hearts&mdash;&ldquo;box and bag marked 'R. G.' Miss
+      Gale, you had better take your seat in the carriage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale gave a little supercilious nod, and he showed her obsequiously
+      into the carriage. She laid her head back, and contemplated vacancy ahead
+      in a manner anything but encouraging to this new admirer Fate had sent
+      her. He turned away, a little discomfited, and when the luggage was
+      brought up, he had the bag placed inside, and the box in a sort of boot,
+      and then jumped in and seated himself inside. &ldquo;Home,&rdquo; said he to the
+      coachman, and off they went. When he came in she started with well-feigned
+      surprise, and stared at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I have met you before. Why, it is Mr. Severne. Excuse me
+      taking you for one of the servants. Some people have short memories, you
+      know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This deliberate affront was duly felt, but parried with a master-hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, I <i>am</i> one of the servants,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;only I am not Vizard's.
+      I'm yours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In-deed!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you will let me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am too poor to have fine servants.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say too haughty. You are not too poor, for I shan't cost you anything but
+      a gracious word now and then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unfortunately I don't deal in gracious words, only true ones.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then suppose you imitate me, and tell me why you came to meet me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This question came from her with sudden celerity, like lightning out of a
+      cloud, and she bent her eyes on him with that prodigious keenness she
+      could throw into those steel gray orbs, when her mind put on its full
+      power of observation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne colored a little, and hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come now,&rdquo; said this keen witch, &ldquo;don't wait to make up a reason. Tell
+      the truth for once&mdash;quick!&mdash;quick!&mdash;why did <i>you</i> come
+      to meet <i>me?&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't come to be bullied,&rdquo; replied supple Severne, affecting
+      sullenness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You didn't!&rdquo; cried the other, acting vast surprise. &ldquo;Then what <i>did</i>
+      you come for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know; and I wish I hadn't come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I believe.&rdquo; Rhoda shot this in like an arrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; continued Severne, &ldquo;if I hadn't, nobody would; for it is Vizard's
+      justicing day, and the ladies are too taken up with a lord to come and
+      meet such vulgar trifles as genius and learning and sci&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, come!&rdquo; said Rhoda, contemptuously; &ldquo;you care as little about
+      science and learning and genius as I possess them. You won't tell me?
+      Well, I shall find you out.&rdquo; Then, after a pause, &ldquo;Who is this lord?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lord Uxmoor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What kind of a lord is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A very bushy lord.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bushy?&mdash;oh, bearded like the pard! Now tell me,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;is he
+      cutting you out with Miss Vizard?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You shall judge for yourself. Please spare me on that one topic&mdash;if
+      you ever spared anybody in your life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear me!&rdquo; said Rhoda, coolly. &ldquo;I'm not so very cruel. I'm only a
+      little vindictive and cat-like. If people offend me, I like to play with
+      them a bit, and amuse myself, and then kill them&mdash;kill them&mdash;kill
+      them; that is all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This pretty little revelation of character was accompanied with a cruel
+      smile that showed a long row of dazzling white teeth. They seemed capable
+      of killing anything from a liar up to a hickory-nut.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne looked at her and gave a shudder. &ldquo;Then Heaven forbid you should
+      ever be my enemy!&rdquo; said he, sadly, &ldquo;for I am unhappy enough already.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Having delivered this disarming speech, he collapsed, and seemed to be
+      overpowered with despondency. Miss Gale showed no signs of melting. She
+      leaned back and eyed him with steady and composed curiosity, as a
+      zoologist studying a new specimen and all its little movements.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They drove up to the Hall door, and Miss Gale was conducted to the
+      drawing-room, where she found Lord Uxmoor and the two young ladies. Zoe
+      shook hands with her. Fanny put a limp paw into hers, which made itself
+      equally limp directly, so Fanny's dropped out. Lord Uxmoor was presented
+      to her, at his own request. Soon after this luncheon was announced. Vizard
+      joined them, welcomed Rhoda genially, and told the party he had ordered
+      the break, and Uxmoor would drive them to the farm round by Hillstoke and
+      the Common. &ldquo;And so,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;by showing Miss Gale our most picturesque
+      spot at once, we may perhaps blind her to the horrors of her situation&mdash;for
+      a time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The break was driven round in due course, with Uxmoor's team harnessed to
+      it. It was followed by a dog-cart crammed with grooms, Uxmoorian and
+      Vizardian. The break was padded and cushioned, and held eight or nine
+      people very comfortably.. It was, indeed, a sort of picnic van, used only
+      in very fine weather. It rolled on beautiful springs. Its present contents
+      were Miss Gale and her luggage and two hampers full of good things for
+      her; Vizard, Severne, and Miss Dover. Zoe sat on the box beside Lord
+      Uxmoor. They drove through the village, and Mr. Severne was so obliging as
+      to point out its beauties to Miss Gale. She took little notice of his
+      comments, except by a stiff nod every now and then, but eyed each house
+      and premises with great keenness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last she stopped his fluency by inquiring whether he had been into them
+      all; and when he said he had not, she took advantage of that admission to
+      inform him that in two days' time she should be able to tell him a great
+      deal more than he was likely to tell her, upon his method of inspecting
+      villages.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is right,&rdquo; said Vizard; &ldquo;snub him: he gets snubbed too little here.
+      How dare he pepper science with his small-talk? But it is our fault&mdash;we
+      admire his volubility.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said Fanny, with a glance of defiance at Miss Gale, &ldquo;if we are to
+      talk nothing but science, it <i>will</i> be a weary world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After the village there was a long, gradual ascent of about a mile, and
+      then they entered a new country. It was a series of woods and clearings,
+      some grass, some arable. Huge oaks, flung their arms over a road lined on
+      either side by short turf, close-cropped by the gypsies' cattle. Some band
+      or other of them was always encamped by the road-side, and never two bands
+      at once. And between these giant trees, not one of which was ever felled,
+      you saw here and there a glade, green as an emerald; or a yellow stubble,
+      glowing in the sun. After about a mile of this, still mounting, but
+      gradually, they emerged upon a spacious table-land&mdash;a long, broad,
+      open, grass plateau, studded with cottages. In this lake of grass Uxmoor
+      drew up at a word from Zoe, to show Miss Gale the scene. The cottages were
+      white as snow, and thatched as at Islip; but instead of vegetable-gardens
+      they all had orchards. The trees were apple and cherry: of the latter not
+      less than a thousand in that small hamlet. It was literally a lawn, a
+      quarter of a mile long and about two hundred yards broad, bordered with
+      white cottages and orchards. The cherries, red and black, gleamed like
+      countless eyes among the cool leaves. There was a little church on the
+      lawn that looked like a pigeon-house. A cow or two grazed peacefully.
+      Pigs, big and little, crossed the lawn, grunting and squeaking
+      satisfaction, and dived into the adjacent woods after acorns, and here and
+      there a truffle the villagers knew not the value of. There was a pond or
+      two in the lawn; one had a wooden plank fixed on uprights, that went in
+      some way. A woman was out on the board, bare-armed, dipping her bucket in
+      for water. In another pond an old knowing horse stood gravely cooling his
+      heels up to the fetlocks. These, with shirts, male and female, drying on a
+      line, and whiteheaded children rolling in the dust, and a donkey braying
+      his heart out for reasons known only to himself, if known at all, were the
+      principal details of the sylvan hamlet; but on a general survey there were
+      grand beauties. The village and its turf lay in the semicircular sweep of
+      an unbroken forest; but at the sides of the leafy basin glades had been
+      cut for drawing timber, stacking bark, etc., and what Milton calls so
+      happily &ldquo;the checkered shade&rdquo; was seen in all its beauty; for the hot sun
+      struggled in at every aperture, and splashed the leaves and the path with
+      fiery flashes and streaks, and topaz brooches, all intensified in fire and
+      beauty by the cool adjacent shadows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Looking back, the view was quite open in most places. The wooded lanes and
+      strips they had passed were little more in so vast a panorama than the
+      black stripes on a backgammon board. The site was so high that the eye
+      swept over all, and rested on a broad valley beyond, with a patchwork
+      pattern of variegated fields and the curling steam of engines flying
+      across all England; then swept by a vast incline up to a horizon of faint
+      green hills, the famous pastures of the United Kingdom. So that it was a
+      deep basin of foliage in front; but you had only to turn your body, and
+      there was a forty-mile view, with all the sweet varieties of color that
+      gem our fields and meadows, as they bask in the afternoon sun of that
+      golden time when summer melts into autumn, and mellows without a chill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; cried Miss Gale, &ldquo;don't anybody speak, please! It is too beautiful!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They respected an enthusiasm so rare in this young lady, and let her
+      contemplate the scene at her ease.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I reckon,&rdquo; said she, dogmatically, and nodding that wise little head,
+      &ldquo;that this is Old England&mdash;the England my ancestors left in search of
+      liberty, and that's a plant that ranks before cherry-trees, I rather
+      think. No, I couldn't have gone; I'd have stayed and killed a hundred
+      tyrants. But I wouldn't have chopped their heads off&rdquo; (to Vizard, very
+      confidentially); &ldquo;I'd have poisoned 'em.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't, Miss Gale!&rdquo; said Fanny; &ldquo;you make my blood run cold.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As it was quite indifferent to Miss Gale whether she made Miss Dover's
+      blood run cold or not, she paid no attention, but proceeded with her
+      reflections. &ldquo;The only thing that spoils it is the smoke of those engines,
+      reminding one that in two hours you or I, or that pastoral old hermit
+      there in a smock-frock, and a pipe&mdash;and oh, what bad tobacco!&mdash;can
+      be wrenched out of this paradise, and shrieked and rattled off and flung
+      into that wilderness of brick called London, where the hearts are as hard
+      as the pavement&mdash;except those that have strayed there from
+      Barfordshire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The witch changed face and tone and everything like lightning, and threw
+      this last in with a sudden grace and sweetness that contrasted strangely
+      with her usual sharpness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe heard, and turned round to look down on her with a smile as sweet as
+      honey. &ldquo;I hardly think that is a drawback,&rdquo; said she, amicably. &ldquo;Does not
+      being able to leave a place make it sweeter? for then we are free in it,
+      you know. But I must own there <i>is</i> a drawback&mdash;the boys' faces,
+      Miss Gale, they <i>are</i> so pasty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; says Rhoda, pricking up her ears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Form no false hopes of an epidemic. This is not an infirmary in a wood,
+      Miss Gale,&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;My sister is a great colorist, and pitches her
+      expectations too high. I dare say their faces are not more pasty than
+      usual; but this is a show place, and looks like a garden; so Zoe wants the
+      boys to be poppies and pansies, and the girls roses and lilies. Which&mdash;they&mdash;are&mdash;not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All I know is,&rdquo; said Zoe, resolutely, &ldquo;that in Islip the children's faces
+      are rosy, but here they are pasty&mdash;dreadfully pasty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you have got a box of colors. We will come up some day and tint all
+      the putty-faced boys.&rdquo; It was to Miss Dover the company owed this
+      suggestion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Rhoda. &ldquo;Their faces are my business; I'll soon fix them. She
+      didn't say putty-faced; she said pasty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grateful to you for the distinction, Miss Gale,&rdquo; said Zoe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale proceeded to insist that boys are not pasty-faced without a
+      cause, and it is to be sought lower down. &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; cried she, suddenly, &ldquo;is
+      that a cherry that I see before me? No, a million. They steal them and eat
+      them by the thousand, and that's why. Tell the truth, now, everybody&mdash;they
+      eat the stones.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Vizard said she did not know, but thought them capable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Children know nothing,&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;Please address all future
+      scientific inquiries to an 'old inhabitant.' Miss Gale, the country
+      abounds in curiosities; but, among those curiosities, even Science, with
+      her searching eye, has never yet discovered an unswallowed cherry stone in
+      Hillstoke village.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! not on the trees?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is too much for me. Drive on, coachman, and drown her replies in the
+      clatter of hoofs. Round by the Stag, Zoe. I am uneasy till I have locked
+      Fair Science up. I own it is a mean way of getting rid of a troublesome
+      disputant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now I think it is quite fair,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;She shuts you up, and so you
+      lock her up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis well,&rdquo; said Vizard, dolefully. &ldquo;Now I am No. 3&mdash;I who used to
+      retort and keep girls in their places&mdash;with difficulty. Here is Ned
+      Severne, too, reduced to silence. Why, where's your tongue? Miss Gale, you
+      would hardly believe it, this is our chatterbox. We have been days and
+      days, and could not get in a word edgewise for him. But now all he can do
+      is to gaze on you with canine devotion, and devour the honey&mdash;I beg
+      pardon, the lime-juice&mdash;of your lips. I warn you of one thing,
+      though; there is such a thing as a threatening silence. He is evidently
+      booking every word you utter; and he will deliver it all for his own
+      behind your back some fine day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With this sort of banter and small talk, not worth deluging the reader
+      dead with, they passed away the time till they reached the farm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You stay here,&rdquo; said Vizard&mdash;&ldquo;all but Zoe. Tom and George, get the
+      things out.&rdquo; The grooms had already jumped out of the dog-cart, and two
+      were at the horses' heads. The step-ladder was placed for Zoe, and Vizard
+      asked her to go in and see the rooms were all right, while he took Miss
+      Gale to the stables. He did so, and showed her a spirited Galloway and a
+      steady old horse, and told her she could ride one and drive the other all
+      over the country.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She thanked him, but said her attention would be occupied by the two
+      villages first, and she should make him a report in forty-eight hours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As you please,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;You are terribly in earnest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What should I be worth if I was not?'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, come and see your shell; and you must tell me if we have forgotten
+      anything essential to your comfort.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She followed him, and he led her to a wing of the farmhouse comparatively
+      new, and quite superior to the rest. Here were two good sunny rooms, with
+      windows looking south and west, and they were both papered with a white
+      watered pattern, and a pretty French border of flowers at the upper part,
+      to look gay and cheerful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe was in the bedroom, arranging things with a pretty air of hospitality.
+      It was cheerily fitted up, and a fire of beech logs blazing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How good you are!&rdquo; said Rhoda, looking wistfully at her. But Zoe checked
+      all comments by asking her to look at the sitting-room and see if it would
+      do. Rhoda would rather have stayed with Zoe; but she complied, and found
+      another bright, cheerful room, and Vizard standing in the middle of it.
+      There was another beech fire blazing, though it was hot weather. Here was
+      a round table, with a large pot full of flowers, geraniums and musk
+      flowers outside, with the sun gilding their green leaves most amiably, and
+      everything unpretending, but bright and comfortable; well padded sofa,
+      luxurious armchair, stand-up reading desk, and a very large knee-hole
+      table; a fine mirror from the ceiling to the dado; a book-case with choice
+      books, and on a pembroke table near the wall were several periodicals.
+      Rhoda, after a cursory survey of the room, flew to the books. &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said
+      she, &ldquo;what good books! all standard works; and several on medicine; and, I
+      declare, the last numbers of the <i>Lancet</i> and the <i>Medical Gazette,</i>
+      and the very best French and German periodicals! Oh, what have I done? and
+      what can I ever do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! Are <i>you</i> going to gush like the rest&mdash;and about
+      nothing?&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;Then I'm off. Come along, Zoe;&rdquo; and he hurried his
+      sister away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She came at the word; but as soon as they were out of the house, asked him
+      what was the matter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought she was going to gush. But I dare say it was a false alarm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And why shouldn't she gush, when you have been so kind?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pooh&mdash;nonsense! I have not been kind to her, and don't mean to be
+      kind to her, or to any woman; besides, she must not be allowed to gush;
+      she is the parish virago&mdash;imported from vast distances as such&mdash;and
+      for her to play the woman would be an abominable breach of faith. We have
+      got our gusher, likewise our flirt; and it was understood from the first
+      that this was to be a new <i>dramatis persona</i>&mdash;was not to be a
+      repetition of you or <i>la</i> Dover, but&mdash;ahem&mdash;the third
+      Grace, a virago: solidified vinegar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhoda Gale felt very happy. She was young, healthy, ambitious, and
+      sanguine. She divined that, somehow, her turning point had come; and when
+      she contrasted her condition a month ago, and the hardness of the world,
+      with the comfort and kindness that now surrounded her, and the magnanimity
+      which fled, not to be thanked for them, she felt for once in a way humble
+      as well as grateful, and said to herself, &ldquo;It is not to myself nor any
+      merit of mine I owe such a change as all this is.&rdquo; What some call
+      religion, and others superstition, overpowered her, and she kneeled down
+      and held communion with that great Spirit which, as she believed, pervades
+      the material universe, and probably arises from it, as harmony from the
+      well strung harp. Theory of the day, or Plato redivivus&mdash;which is it?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O great creative element, and stream of tendencies in the universe,
+      whereby all things struggle toward perfection, deign to be the recipient
+      of that gratitude which fills me, and cannot be silent; and since
+      gratitude is right in all, and most of all in me at this moment, forgive
+      me if, in the weakness of my intellect, I fall into the old error of
+      addressing you as an individual. It is but the weakness of the heart; we
+      are persons, and so we cry out for a personal God to be grateful to. Pray
+      receive it so&mdash;if, indeed, these words of mine have any access to
+      your infinitely superior nature. And if it is true that you influence the
+      mind of man, and are by any act of positive volition the cause of these
+      benefits I now profit by, then pray influence my mind in turn, and make me
+      a more worthy recipient of all these favors; above all, inspire me to keep
+      faithfully to my own sphere, which is on earth; to be good and kind and
+      tolerant to my fellow creatures, perverse as they are sometimes, and not
+      content myself with saying good words to you, to whose information I can
+      add nothing, nor yet to your happiness, by any words of mine. Let no
+      hollow sentiment of religion keep me long prating on my knees, when life
+      is so short, and&rdquo; (jumping suddenly up) &ldquo;my duties can only be discharged
+      afoot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Refreshed by this aspiration, the like of which I have not yet heard
+      delivered in churches&mdash;but the rising generation will perhaps be more
+      fortunate in that respect&mdash;she went into the kitchen, ordered tea,
+      bread and butter, and one egg for dinner at seven o'clock, and walked
+      instantly back to Hillstoke to inspect the village, according to her ideas
+      of inspection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next morning down comes the bailiff's head man in his light cart, and a
+      note is delivered to Vizard at the breakfast table. He reads it to
+      himself, then proclaims silence, and reads it aloud:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DEAR SIR&mdash;As we crossed your hall to luncheon, there was the door of
+      a small room half open, and I saw a large mahogany case standing on a
+      marble table with one leg, but three claws gilt. I saw 'Micro' printed on
+      the case. So I hope it is a microscope, and a fine one. To enable you to
+      find it, if you don't know, the room had crimson curtains, and is papered
+      in green flock. That is the worst of all the poisonous papers, because the
+      texture is loose, and the poisonous stuff easily detached, and always
+      flying about the room. I hope you do not sit in it, nor Miss Vizard,
+      because sitting in that room is courting death. Please lend me the
+      microscope, if it is one, and I'll soon show you why the boys are putty
+      faced. I have inspected them, and find Miss Dover's epithet more exact
+      than Miss Vizard's, which is singular. I will take great care of it. Yours
+      respectfully,
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;RHODA GALE.&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      Vizard ordered a servant to deliver the microscope to Miss Gale's
+      messenger with his compliments. Fanny wondered what she wanted with it.
+      &ldquo;Not to inspect our little characters, it is to be hoped,&rdquo; said Vizard.
+      &ldquo;Why not pay her a visit, you ladies? then she will tell you, perhaps.&rdquo;
+       The ladies instantly wore that bland look of inert but rocky resistance I
+      have already noted as a characteristic of &ldquo;our girls.&rdquo; Vizard saw, and
+      said, &ldquo;Try and persuade them, Uxmoor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can only offer Miss Vizard my escort,&rdquo; said Lord Uxmoor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I offer both ladies mine,&rdquo; said Ned Severne, rather loud and with a
+      little sneer, to mark his superior breeding. The gentleman was so
+      extremely polite in general that there was no mistaking his hostile
+      intentions now. The inevitable war had begun, and the first shot was
+      fired. Of course the wonder was it had not come long before; and perhaps I
+      ought to have drawn more attention to the delicacy and tact of Zoe Vizard,
+      which had averted it for a time. To be sure, she had been aided by the
+      size of the house and its habits. The ladies had their own sitting rooms;
+      Fanny kept close to Zoe by special orders; and nobody could get a chance
+      <i>te'te-'a-te'te</i> with Zoe unless she chose. By this means, her native
+      dignity and watchful tact, by her frank courtesy to Uxmoor, and by the
+      many little quiet ways she took to show Severne her sentiments remained
+      unchanged, she had managed to keep the peace, and avert that open
+      competition for her favor which would have tickled the vanity of a Fanny
+      Dover, but shocked the refined modesty of a Zoe Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But nature will have her way soon or late, and it is the nature of males
+      to fight for the female.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At Severne's shot Uxmoor drew up a little haughtily, but did not feel sure
+      anything was intended. He was little accustomed to rubs. Zoe, on the other
+      hand, turned a little pale&mdash;just a little, for she was sorry, but not
+      surprised; so she proved equal to the occasion. She smiled and made light
+      of it. &ldquo;Of course we are <i>all</i> going,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Except one,&rdquo; said Vizard, dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is too bad,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Here he drives us all to visit his
+      blue-stocking, but he takes good care not to go himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps he prefers to visit her alone,&rdquo; suggested Severne. Zoe looked
+      alarmed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is <i>so,&rdquo;</i> said Vizard. &ldquo;Observe, I am learning her very
+      phrases. When you come back, tell me every word she says; pray let nothing
+      be lost that falls from my virago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The party started after luncheon; and Severne, true to his new policy,
+      whipped to Zoe's side before Uxmoor, and engaged her at once in
+      conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Uxmoor bit his lip, and fell to Fanny. Fanny saw at once what was going
+      on, and made herself very agreeable to Uxmoor. He was polite and a little
+      gratified, but cast uneasy glances at the other pair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime Severne was improving his opportunity. &ldquo;Sorry to disturb Lord
+      Uxmoor's monopoly,&rdquo; said he, sarcastically, &ldquo;but I could not bear it any
+      longer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not object to the change,&rdquo; said Zoe, smiling maternally on him; &ldquo;but
+      you will be good enough to imitate me in one thing&mdash;you will always
+      be polite to Lord Uxmoor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He makes it rather hard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is only for a time; and we must learn to be capable of self-denial. I
+      assure you I have exercised quite as much as I ask of you. Edward, he is a
+      gentleman of great worth, universally respected, and my brother has a
+      particular wish to be friends with him. So pray be patient; be
+      considerate. Have a little faith in one who&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not end the sentence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I will,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;But please think of me a little. I am beginning
+      to feel quite thrust aside, and degraded in my own eyes for putting up
+      with it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For shame, to talk so,&rdquo; said Zoe; but the tears came into her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The master of arts saw, and said no more. He had the art of not overdoing:
+      he left the arrow to rankle. He walked by her side in a silence for ever
+      so long. Then, suddenly, as if by a mighty effort of unselfish love, went
+      off into delightful discourse. He cooed and wooed and flattered and
+      fascinated; and by the time they reached the farm had driven Uxmoor out of
+      her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale was out. The farmer's wife said she had gone into the town&mdash;meaning
+      Hillstoke&mdash;which was, strictly speaking, a hamlet or tributary
+      village. Hillstoke church was only twelve years old, and the tithes of the
+      place went to the parson of Islip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Zoe turned to go, Uxmoor seized the opportunity, and drew up beside
+      her, like a soldier falling into the ranks. Zoe felt hot; but as Severne
+      took no open notice, she could not help smiling at the behavior of the
+      fellows; and Uxmoor got his chance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne turned to Fanny with a wicked sneer. &ldquo;Very well, my lord,&rdquo; said
+      he; &ldquo;but I have put a spoke in your wheel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As if I did not see, you clever creature!&rdquo; said Fanny, admiringly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, Miss Dover, I need to be as clever as you! See what I have against
+      me: a rich lord, with the bushiest beard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never you mind,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Good wine needs no bush, ha! ha! You are
+      lovely, and have a wheedling tongue, and you were there first. Be good,
+      now&mdash;and you can flirt with me to fill up the time. I hate not being
+      flirted at all. It is stagnation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but it is not so easy to flirt with you just a little. You are so
+      charming.&rdquo; Thereupon he proceeded to flatter her, and wonder how he had
+      escaped a passionate attachment to so brilliant a creature. &ldquo;What saved
+      me,&rdquo; said he, oracularly, &ldquo;is, that I never could love two at once; and
+      Zoe seized my love at sight. She left me nothing to lay at your feet but
+      my admiration, the tenderest friendship man can feel for woman, and my
+      lifelong gratitude for fighting my battle. Oh, Miss Dover, I must be quite
+      serious a moment. What other lady but you would be so generous as to
+      befriend a poor man with another lady, when there's wealth and title on
+      the other side?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny blushed and softened, but turned it off. &ldquo;There&mdash;no heroics,
+      please,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;You are a dear little fellow; and don't go and be
+      jealous, for he shan't have her. He would never ask me to his house, you
+      know. Now I think you would perhaps&mdash;who knows? Tell me, fascinating
+      monster, are you going to be ungrateful?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not to you. My home would always be yours; and you know it.&rdquo; And he
+      caught her hand and kissed it in an ungovernable transport, the strings of
+      which be pulled himself. He took care to be quick about it, though, and
+      not let Zoe or Uxmoor see, who were walking on before and behaving
+      sedately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In Hillstoke lived, on a pension from Vizard, old Mrs. Greenaway,
+      rheumatic about the lower joints, so she went on crutches; but she went
+      fast, being vigorous, and so did her tongue. At Hillstoke she was Dame
+      Greenaway, being a relic of that generation which applied the word dame to
+      every wife, high and low; but at Islip she was &ldquo;Sally,&rdquo; because she had
+      started under that title, fifty-five years ago, as house-maid at Vizard
+      Court; and, by the tenacity of oral tradition, retained it ever since, in
+      spite of two husbands she had wedded and buried with equal composure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her feet were still springy, her arms strong as iron, and her crutches
+      active. At sight of our party she came out with amazing wooden strides,
+      agog for gossip, and met them at the gate. She managed to indicate a
+      courtesy, and said, &ldquo;Good day, miss; your sarvant, all the company. Lord,
+      how nice you be dressed, all on ye, to&mdash;be&mdash;sure! Well, miss,
+      have ye heerd the news?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Sally. What is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! haant ye heerd about the young 'oman at the farm?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh yes; we came to see her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, did ye now? Well, she was here not half an hour agone. By the same
+      toaken, I did put her a question, and she answered me then and there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And may I ask what the question was?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And welcome, miss. I said, says I, 'Young 'oman, where be you come from?'
+      so says she, 'Old 'oman, I be come from forin parts.' 'I thought as much,'
+      says I. 'And what be 'e come <i>for?''</i> 'To sojourn here,' says she,
+      which she meant to bide a time. 'And what do 'e count to do whilst here
+      you be?' says I. Says she, 'As much good as ever I can do, and as little
+      harm.' 'That is no answer,' says I. She said it would do for the present;
+      'and good day to you, ma'am,' says she. 'Your sarvant, miss,' says I; and
+      she was off like a flash. But I called my grandson Bill, and I told him he
+      must follow her, go where she would, and let us know what she was up to
+      down in Islip. Then I went round the neighbors, and one told me one tale,
+      and another another. But it all comes to one&mdash;we have gotten A
+      BUSYBODY; that's the name I gives her. She don't give in to that, ye know;
+      she is a Latiner, and speaks according. She gave Master Giles her own
+      description. Says she, 'I'm suspector-general of this here districk.' So
+      then Giles he was skeared a bit&mdash;he have got an acre of land of his
+      own, you know&mdash;and he up and asked her did she come under the taxes,
+      or was she a fresh imposition; 'for we are burdened enough a'ready, no
+      offense to you, miss,' says Josh Giles. 'Don't you be skeared, old man,'
+      says she, 'I shan't cost <i>you</i> none; your betters pays for I.' So
+      says Giles, 'Oh, if you falls on squire, I don't vally that; squire's back
+      is broad enough to bear the load, but I'm a poor man.' That's how a' goes
+      on, ye know. Poverty is always in his mouth, but the old chap have got a
+      hatful of money hid away in the thatch or some're, only he haan't a got
+      the heart to spend it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell us more about the young lady,&rdquo; asked Uxmoor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What young lady? Oh, <i>her.</i> She is not a young lady&mdash;leastways
+      she is not dressed like one, but like a plain, decent body. She was all of
+      a piece&mdash;blue serge! Bless your heart, the peddlers bring it round
+      here at elevenpence half-penny the yard, and a good breadth too; and plain
+      boots, not heeled like your'n, miss, nor your'n, ma'am; and a felt hat
+      like a boy. You'd say the parish had dressed her for ten shillings, and
+      got a pot of beer out on't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, never mind that,&rdquo; said Zoe; &ldquo;I must tell you she is a very worthy
+      young lady, and my brother has a respect for her. Dress? Why, Sally, you
+      know it is not the wisest that spend most on dress. You might tell us what
+      she <i>does.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dame Greenaway snatched the word out of her mouth. &ldquo;Well, then, miss, what
+      she have done, she have suspected everything. She have suspected the
+      ponds; she have suspected the houses; she have suspected the folk; she
+      must know what they eat and drink and wear next their very skin, and what
+      they do lie down on. She have been at the very boys and forebade 'em to
+      swallow the cherry stones, poor things; but old Mrs. Nash&mdash;which her
+      boys lives on cherries at this time o' year, and to be sure they are a
+      godsend to keep the children hereabout from starving&mdash;well, Dame Nash
+      told her the Almighty knew best; he had put 'em together on the tree, so
+      why not in the boys' insides; and that was common sense to my mind. But
+      la! she wouldn't heed it. She said, 'Then you'd eat the peach stones by
+      that rule, and the fish bones and all.' Says she, quite resolute like, 'I
+      forbid 'em to swallow the stones;' and says she, 'Ye mawnt gainsay me,
+      none on ye, for I be the new doctor.' So then it all come out. She isn't
+      suspector-general; she is a wench turned doctor, which it is against
+      reason. Shan't doctor <i>me</i> for one; but that there old Giles, he says
+      he is agreeable, if so be she wool doctor him cheap&mdash;cussed old fool!&mdash;as
+      if any doctoring was cheap that kills a body and doan't cure 'em. Dear
+      heart, I forgot to tell ye about the ponds. Well, you know there be no
+      wells here. We makes our tea out of the ponds, and capital good tea to
+      drink, far before well water, for I mind that one day about twenty years
+      agone some interfering body did cart a barrel up from Islip; and if we
+      wants water withouten tea, why, we can get plenty on't, and none too much
+      malt and hops, at 'The Black Horse.' So this here young 'oman she suspects
+      the poor ponds and casts a hevil-eye on them, and she borrows two mugs of
+      Giles, and carries the water home to suspect it closer. That is all she
+      have done at present, but, ye see, she haan't been here so very long. You
+      mark my words, miss, that young 'oman will turn Hillstoke village
+      topsy-turvy or ever she goes back to London town.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense, Sally,&rdquo; said Zoe; &ldquo;how can anybody do that while my brother and
+      I are alive?&rdquo; She then slipped half a crown into Sally's hand, and led the
+      way to Islip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the road her conversation with Oxmoor took a turn suggestive of this
+      interview. I forget which began it; but they differed a little in opinion,
+      Uxmoor admiring Miss Gale's zeal and activity, and Zoe fearing that she
+      would prove a rash reformer, perhaps a reckless innovator.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And really,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;why disturb things? for, go where I will, I see
+      no such Paradise as these two villages.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are indeed lovely,&rdquo; said Uxmoor; &ldquo;but my own village is very pretty.
+      Yet on nearer inspection I have found so many defects, especially in the
+      internal arrangements of the cottages, that I am always glad to hear of a
+      new eye having come to bear on any village.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know you are very good,&rdquo; said Zoe, &ldquo;and wish all the poor people about
+      you to be as healthy and as happy as possible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I really do,&rdquo; said, warmly. &ldquo;I often think of the strange inequality in
+      the lot of men. Living in the country, I see around me hundreds of men who
+      are by nature as worthy as I am, or thereabouts. Yet they must toil and
+      labor, and indeed fight, for bare food and clothing, all their lives, and
+      worse off at the close of their long labor. That is what grieves me to the
+      heart. All this time I revel in plenty and luxuries&mdash;not forgetting
+      the luxury of luxuries, the delight of giving to those who need and
+      deserve. What have I done for all this? I have been born of the right
+      parents. My merit, then, is the accident of an accident. But having done
+      nothing meritorious before I was born, surely I ought to begin afterward.
+      I think a man born to wealth ought to doubt his moral title to it, and
+      ought to set to work to prove it&mdash;ought to set himself to repair the
+      injustice of fortune by which he profits. Yes, such a man should be a sort
+      of human sunshine, and diffuse blessings all round him. The poor man that
+      encounters him ought to bless the accident. But there, I am not eloquent.
+      You know how much more I mean than I can say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed I do,&rdquo; said Zoe, &ldquo;and I honor you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, Miss Vizard,&rdquo; said Uxmoor, &ldquo;that is more than I can ever deserve.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are praising me at your own expense,&rdquo; said Zoe. &ldquo;Well, then,&rdquo; said
+      she, sweetly, &ldquo;please accept my sympathy. It is so rare to find a
+      gentleman of your age thinking so little of himself and so much of poor
+      people. Yet that is a Divine command. But somehow we forget our religion
+      out of church&mdash;most of us. I am sure I do, for one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This conversation brought them to the village, and there they met Vizard,
+      and Zoe repeated old Sally's discourse to him word for word. He shook his
+      head solemnly, and said he shared her misgivings. &ldquo;We have caught a
+      Tartar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On arriving at Vizard Court, they found Miss Gale had called and left two
+      cards.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Open rivalry having now commenced between Uxmoor and Severne, his lordship
+      was adroit enough to contrive that the drag should be in request next day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Severne got Fanny to convey a note to Zoe, imploring her to open her
+      bedroom window and say good-night to him the last. &ldquo;For,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I have
+      no coach and four, and I am very unhappy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This and his staying sullenly at home spoiled Zoe's ride, and she was cool
+      to Uxmoor, and spoiled his drive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At night Zoe peeped through the curtain and saw Severne standing in the
+      moonlight. She drank him in for some time in silence, then softly opened
+      her window and looked out. He took a step nearer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She said, very softly and tenderly, &ldquo;You are very naughty, and very
+      foolish. Go to bed <i>di-</i>rectly.&rdquo; And she closed her window with a
+      valiant slam; then sat down and sighed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Same game next day. Uxmoor driving, Zoe wonderfully polite, but chill,
+      because he was separating her and Severne. At night, Severne on the wet
+      grass, and Zoe remonstrating severely, but not sincerely, and closing the
+      window peremptorily she would have liked to keep open half the night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It has often been remarked that great things arise out of small things,
+      and sometimes, when in full motion, depend on small things. History offers
+      brilliant examples upon its large stage. Fiction has imitated history in
+      <i>un verre d'eau</i> and other compositions. To these examples, real or
+      feigned, I am now about to add one; and the curious reader may, if he
+      thinks it worth while, note the various ramifications at home and abroad
+      of a seemingly trivial incident.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were all seated at luncheon, when a servant came in with a salver,
+      and said, &ldquo;A gentleman to see you, sir.&rdquo; He presented his salver with a
+      card upon it. Severne clutched the card, and jumped up, reddening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Show him in here,&rdquo; said the hospitable Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; cried Severne, rather nervously; &ldquo;it is my lawyer on a little
+      private business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard told the servant to show the visitor into the library, and take in
+      the Madeira and some biscuits.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is about a lease,&rdquo; said Ned Severne, and went out rather hurriedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La!&rdquo; said Fanny, &ldquo;what a curious name&mdash;Poikilus. And what does S. I.
+      mean, I wonder?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is enigmatical discourse,&rdquo; said Vizard, dryly. &ldquo;Please explain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, the card had Poikilus on it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very inquisitive,&rdquo; said Zoe, coloring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No more than my neighbors. But the man put his salver right between our
+      noses, and how could I help seeing Poikilus in large letters, and S. I. in
+      little ones up in the corner?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Said Vizard, &ldquo;The female eye is naturally swift. She couldn't help seeing
+      all that in <i>half a minute of time;</i> for Ned Severne snatched up the
+      card with vast expedition.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I saw that too,&rdquo; said Fanny, defiantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Uxmoor put in his word. &ldquo;Poikilus! That is a name one sees in the papers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you do. He is one of the humbugs of the day. Pretends to find
+      things out; advertises mysterious disappearances; offers a magnificent
+      reward&mdash;with perfect safety, because he has invented the lost girl's
+      features and dress, and her disappearance into the bargain; and I hold
+      with the schoolmen that she who does not exist cannot disappear. Poikilus,
+      a puffing detective. S. I., Secret Inquiry. <i>I</i> spell Enquiry with an
+      E&mdash;but Poikilus is a man of the day. What the deuce can Ned Severne
+      want of him? I suppose I ought not to object. I have established a female
+      detective at Hillstoke. So Ned sets one up at Islip. I shall make my own
+      secret arrangements. If Poikilus settles here, he will be drawn through
+      the horse-pond by small-minded rustics once a week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While he was going on like this, Zoe felt uncomfortable, and almost
+      irritated by his volubility, and it was a relief to her when Severne
+      returned. He had confided a most delicate case to the detective, given him
+      written instructions, and stipulated for his leaving the house without a
+      word to any one, and, indeed, seen him off&mdash;all in seven minutes. Yet
+      he returned to our party cool as a cucumber, to throw dust in everybody's
+      eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must apologize for this intrusion,&rdquo; he said to Vizard; &ldquo;but my lawyer
+      wanted to consult me about the lease of one of my farms, and, finding
+      himself in the neighborhood, he called instead of writing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your lawyer, eh?&rdquo; said Vizard, slyly. &ldquo;What is your lawyer's name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jackson,&rdquo; said Ned, without a moment's hesitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny giggled in her own despite.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Instead of stopping here, Severne must go on; it was his unlucky day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not quite a gentleman, you know, or I would have inflicted his society on
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not quite&mdash;eh?&rdquo; said Harrington, so dryly that Fanny Dover burst
+      into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Zoe turned hot and cold to see him blundering thus, and telling lie
+      upon lie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne saw there was something wrong, and buried his nose in pigeon pie.
+      He devoured it with an excellent appetite, while every eye rested on him;
+      Zoe's with shame and misery, Uxmoor's with open contempt, Vizard's with
+      good humored satire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The situation became intolerable to Zoe Vizard. Indignant and deeply
+      shocked herself, she still could not bear to see him the butt of others'
+      ridicule and contempt. She rose haughtily and marched to the door. He
+      raised his head for a moment as she went out. She turned, and their eyes
+      met. She gave him such a glance of pity and disdain as suspended the meat
+      upon his fork, and froze him into comprehending that something very
+      serious indeed had happened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He resolved to learn from Fanny what it was, and act accordingly. But
+      Zoe's maid came in and whispered Fanny. She went out, and neither of the
+      young ladies was seen till dinner-time. It was conveyed to Uxmoor that
+      there would be no excursion of any kind this afternoon; and therefore he
+      took his hat, and went off to pay a visit. He called on Rhoda Gale. She
+      was at home. He intended merely to offer her his respects, and to side
+      with her generally against these foolish rustics; but she was pleased with
+      him for coming, and made herself so agreeable that he spent the whole
+      afternoon comparing notes with her upon village life, and the amelioration
+      it was capable of. Each could give the other valuable ideas; and he said
+      he hoped she would visit his part of the country ere long; she would find
+      many defects, but also a great desire to amend them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This flattered her, naturally; and she began to take an interest in him.
+      That interest soon took the form of curiosity. She must know whether he
+      was seriously courting Zoe Vizard or not. The natural reserve of a
+      well-bred man withstood this at first; but that armor could not resist for
+      two mortal hours such a daughter of Eve as this, with her insidious
+      questions, her artful statements, her cat-like retreats and cat-like
+      returns. She learned&mdash;though he did not see how far he had committed
+      himself&mdash;that he admired Zoe Vizard and would marry her to-morrow if
+      she would have him; his hesitation to ask her, because he had a rival,
+      whose power he could not exactly measure; but a formidable and permitted
+      rival.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They parted almost friends; and Rhoda settled quietly in her mind he
+      should have Zoe Vizard, since he was so fond of her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here again it was Severne's unlucky day, and Uxmoor's lucky. To carry this
+      same day to a close, Severne tried more than once to get near Zoe and ask
+      if he had offended her, and in what. But no opportunity occurred. So then
+      he sat and gazed at her, and looked unhappy. She saw, and was not unmoved,
+      but would not do more than glance at him. He resigned himself to wait till
+      night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Night came. He went on the grass. There was a light in Zoe's room. It was
+      eleven o'clock. He waited, shivering, till twelve. Then the light was put
+      out; but no window opened. There was a moon; and her windows glared black
+      on him, dark and bright as the eyes she now averted from him. He was in
+      disgrace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The present incident I have recorded did not end here; and I must now
+      follow Poikilus on his mission to Homburg; and if the reader has a sense
+      of justice, methinks he will not complain of the journey, for see how long
+      I have neglected the noblest figure in this story, and the most to be
+      pitied. To desert her longer would be too unjust, and derange entirely the
+      balance of this complicated story.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVIII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      A CRUEL mental stroke, like a heavy blow upon the body, sometimes benumbs
+      and sickens at first, but does not torture; yet that is to follow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was so with Ina Klosking. The day she just missed Edward Severne, and
+      he seemed to melt away from her very grasp into the wide world again, she
+      could drag herself to the theater and sing angelically, with a dull and
+      aching heart. But next day her heart entered on sharper suffering. She was
+      irritated, exasperated; chained to the theater, to Homburg, yet wild to
+      follow Severne to England without delay. She told Ashmead she must and
+      would go. He opposed it stoutly, and gave good reasons. She could not
+      break faith with the management. England was a large place. They had, as
+      yet, no clew but a name. By waiting, the clew would come. The sure course
+      was to give publicity in England to her winnings, and so draw Severne to
+      her. But for once she was too excited to listen to reason. She was
+      tempest-tossed. &ldquo;I will go&mdash;I will go,&rdquo; she repeated, as she walked
+      the room wildly, and flung her arms aloft with reckless abandon, and yet
+      with a terrible majesty, an instinctive grace, and all the poetry of a
+      great soul wronged and driven wild.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She overpowered Ashmead and drove him to the director. He went most
+      unwillingly; but once there, was true to her, and begged off the
+      engagement eagerly. The director refused this plump. Then Ashmead, still
+      true to his commission, offered him (most reluctantly) a considerable sum
+      down to annul the contract, and backed this with a quiet hint that she
+      would certainly fall ill if refused. The director knew by experience what
+      this meant, and how easily these ladies can command the human body to
+      death's door <i>pro re nata,</i> and how readily a doctor's certificate
+      can be had to say or swear that the great creature cannot sing or act
+      without peril to life, though really both these arts are grand medicines,
+      and far less likely to injure the <i>bona fide</i> sick than are the
+      certifying doctor's draughts and drugs. The director knew all this; but he
+      was furious at the disappointment threatened him. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;this is
+      always the way; a poor devil of a manager is never to have a success. It
+      is treacherous, it is ungrateful: I'll close. You tell her if she is
+      determined to cut all our throats and kick her own good fortune down, she
+      can; but, by &mdash;&mdash;, I'll make her smart for it! Mind, now; she
+      closes the theater and pays the expenses, if she plays me false.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But if she is ill?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let her die and be &mdash;&mdash;, and then I'll believe her. She is the
+      healthiest woman in Germany. I'll go and take steps to have her arrested
+      if she offers to leave the town.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead reported the manager's threats, and the Klosking received them as
+      a lioness the barking of a cur. She drew herself swiftly up, and her great
+      eye gleamed imperial disdain at all his menaces but one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He will not really close the theater,&rdquo; said she, loftily; but uneasiness
+      lurked in her manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He will,&rdquo; said Ashmead. &ldquo;He is desperate: and you know it <i>is</i> hard
+      to go on losing and losing, and then the moment luck turns to be done out
+      of it, in spite of a written bargain. I've been a manager myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So many poor people!&rdquo; said Ina, with a sigh; and her defiant head sunk a
+      little.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, bother <i>them!&rdquo;</i> said Ashmead, craftily. &ldquo;Let 'em starve.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;God forbid!&rdquo; said Ina. Then she sighed again, and her queenly head sunk
+      lower. Then she faltered out, &ldquo;I have the will to break faith and ruin
+      poor people, but I have not the courage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then a tear or two began to trickle, carrying with them all the
+      egotistical resolution Ina Klosking possessed at that time. Perhaps we
+      shall see her harden: nothing stands still.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This time the poor conquered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But every now and then for many days there were returns of torment and
+      agitation and wild desire to escape to England.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead made head against these with his simple arts. For one thing, he
+      showed her a dozen paragraphs in MS. he was sending to as many English
+      weekly papers, describing her heavy gains at the table. &ldquo;With these
+      stones,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I kill two birds: extend your fame, and entice your
+      idol back to you.&rdquo; Here a growl, which I suspect was an inarticulate
+      curse. Joseph, fi!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The pen of Joseph on such occasions was like his predecessor's coat,
+      polychromatic. The Klosking read him, and wondered. &ldquo;Alas!&rdquo; said she,
+      &ldquo;with what versatile skill do you descant on a single circumstance not
+      very creditable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Creditable!&rdquo; said Ashmead; &ldquo;it was very naughty, but it is very nice.&rdquo;
+       And the creature actually winked, forgetting, of course, whom he was
+      winking at, and wasting his vulgarity on the desert air; for the
+      Klosking's eye might just manage to blink&mdash;at the meridian sun, or so
+      forth; but it never winked once in all its life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One of the paragraphs ran thus, with a heading in small capitals:
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;A PRIMA DONNA AT THE GAMBLING TABLE.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle Klosking, the great contralto, whose success has been
+      already recorded in all the journals, strolled, on one of her off nights,
+      into the Kursaal at Homburg, and sat down to <i>trente et quarante.</i>
+      Her melodious voice was soon heard betting heavily, with the most engaging
+      sweetness of manner; and doubling seven times upon the red, she broke the
+      bank, and retired with a charming courtesy and eight thousand pounds in
+      gold and notes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Another dealt with the matter thus:
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;ROUGE ET NOIR.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The latest coup at Homburg has been made by a cantatrice whose praises
+      all Germany are now ringing. Mademoiselle Klosking, successor and rival of
+      Alboni, went to the Kursaal, <i>pour passer le temps;</i> and she passed
+      it so well that in half an hour the bank was broken, and there was a pile
+      of notes and gold before La Klosking amounting to ten thousand pounds and
+      more. The lady waved these over to her agent, Mr. Joseph Ashmead, with a
+      hand which, <i>par parenthe'se,</i> is believed to be the whitest in
+      Europe, and retired gracefully.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On perusing this, La Klosking held <i>two</i> white hands up to heaven in
+      amazement at the skill and good taste which had dragged this feature into
+      the incident.
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;A DRAMATIC SITUATION.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A circumstance has lately occurred here which will infallibly be seized
+      on by the novelists in search of an incident. Mademoiselle Klosking, the
+      new contralto, whose triumphant progress through Europe will probably be
+      the next event in music, walked into the Kursaal the other night, broke
+      the bank, and walked out again with twelve thousand pounds, and that
+      charming composure which is said to distinguish her in private life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What makes it more remarkable is that the lady is not a gamester, has
+      never played before, and is said to have declared that she shall never
+      play again. It is certain that, with such a face, figure, and voice as
+      hers, she need never seek for wealth at the gambling-table. Mademoiselle
+      Klosking is now in negotiation with all the principal cities of the
+      Continent. But the English managers, we apprehend, will prove awkward
+      competitors.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Were I to reproduce the nine other paragraphs, it would be a very curious,
+      instructive, and tedious specimen of literature; and, who knows? I might
+      corrupt some immaculate soul, inspire some actor or actress, singer or
+      songstress, with an itch for public self-laudation, a foible from which
+      they are all at present so free. Witness the <i>Era,</i> the <i>Hornet,</i>
+      and <i>Figaro.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina Klosking spotted what she conceived to be a defect in these histories.
+      &ldquo;My friend,&rdquo; said she meekly, &ldquo;the sum I won was under five thousand
+      pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was it? Yes, to be sure. But, you see, these are English advertisements.
+      Now England is so rich that if you keep down to any <i>Continental</i>
+      sum, you give a false impression in England of the importance on the
+      spot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so we are to falsify figures? In the first of these legends it was
+      double the truth; and, as I read, it enlarges&mdash;oh, but it enlarges,&rdquo;
+       said Ina, with a Gallicism we shall have to forgive in a lady who spoke
+      five languages.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madam,&rdquo; said Ashmead, dryly, &ldquo;you must expect your capital to increase
+      rapidly, so long as I conduct it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Not being herself swift to shed jokes, Ina did not take them rapidly. She
+      stared at him. He never moved a muscle. She gave a slight shrug of her
+      grand shoulders, and resigned that attempt to reason with the creature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had a pill in store for him, though. She told him that, as she had
+      sacrificed the longings of her heart to the poor of the theater, so she
+      should sacrifice a portion of her ill-gotten gains to the poor of the
+      town.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He made a hideously wry face at that, asked what poor-rates were for, and
+      assured her that &ldquo;pauper&rdquo; meant &ldquo;drunkard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not written so in Scripture,&rdquo; said Ina; &ldquo;and I need their prayers,
+      for I am very unhappy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In short, Ashmead was driven out from the presence chamber with a thousand
+      thalers to distribute among the poor of Homburg; and, once in the street,
+      his face did not shine like an angel of mercy's, but was very pinched and
+      morose; hardly recognizable&mdash;poor Joe!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By-and-by he scratched his head. Now it is unaccountable, but certain
+      heads often yield an idea in return for that. Joseph's did, and his
+      countenance brightened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Three days after this Ina was surprised by a note from the burgomaster,
+      saying that he and certain of the town council would have the honor of
+      calling on her at noon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What might this mean?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She sent to ask for Mr. Ashmead; he was not to be found; he had hidden
+      himself too carefully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The deputation came and thanked her for her munificent act of charity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked puzzled at first, then blushed to the temples. &ldquo;Munificent act,
+      gentlemen! Alas! I did but direct my agent to distribute a small sum among
+      the deserving poor. He has done very ill to court your attention. My
+      little contribution should have been as private as it is insignificant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, madam,&rdquo; said the clerk of the council, who was a recognized orator,
+      &ldquo;your agent did well to consult our worthy burgomaster, who knows the
+      persons most in need and most deserving. We do not doubt that you love to
+      do good in secret. Nevertheless, we have also our sense of duty, and we
+      think it right that so benevolent an act should be published, as an
+      example to others. In the same view, we claim to comment publicly on your
+      goodness.&rdquo; Then he looked to the burgomaster, who took him up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And we comment thus: Madam, since the Middle Ages the freedom of this
+      town has not been possessed by any female. There is, however, no law
+      forbidding it, and therefore, madam, the civic authorities, whom I
+      represent, do hereby present to you the freedom of this burgh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He then handed her an emblazoned vellum giving her citizenship, with the
+      reasons written plainly in golden letters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina Klosking, who had remained quite quiet during the speeches, waited a
+      moment or two, and then replied, with seemly grace and dignity:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Burgomaster and gentlemen, you have paid me a great and unexpected
+      compliment, and I thank you for it. But one thing makes me uneasy: it is
+      that I have done so little to deserve this. I console myself, however, by
+      reflecting that I am still young, and may have opportunities to show
+      myself grateful, and even to deserve, in the future, this honor, which at
+      present overpays me, and almost oppresses me. On that understanding,
+      gentlemen, be pleased to bestow, and let me receive, the rare compliment
+      you have paid me by admitting me to citizenship in your delightful town.&rdquo;
+       (To herself:) &ldquo;I'll scold him well for this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Low courtesy; profound bows; exit deputation enchanted with her; <i>manet</i>
+      Klosking with the freedom of the city in her hand and ingratitude in her
+      heart; for her one idea was to get hold of Mr. Joseph Ashmead directly and
+      reproach him severely for all this, which she justly ascribed to his
+      machinations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cunning Ashmead divined her project, and kept persistently out of her
+      way. That did not suit her neither. She was lonely. She gave the waiter a
+      friendly line to bring him to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, mind you, she was too honest to pretend she was not going to scold
+      him. So this is what she wrote:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;MY FRIEND&mdash;Have you deserted me? Come to me, and be remonstrated.
+      What have you to fear? You know so well how to defend yourself.
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;INA KLOSKING.&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      Arrived in a very few minutes Mr. Ashamed, jaunty, cheerful, and
+      defensive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina, with a countenance from which all discontent was artfully extracted,
+      laid before him, in the friendliest way you can imagine, an English Bible.
+      It was her father's, and she always carried it with her. &ldquo;I wish,&rdquo; said
+      she, insidiously, &ldquo;to consult you on a passage or two of this book. How do
+      you understand this:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'When thou doest thine alms, do not send a trumpet before thee, as the
+      hypocrites do.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And this:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'When thou doest thine alms, let not thy right hand know what thy left
+      hand doeth, that thine alms may be in secret; and thy Father, which seeth
+      in secret, shall reward thee openly.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Having pointed out these sentences with her finger, she looked to him for
+      his interpretation. Joseph, thus erected into a Scripture commentator,
+      looked at the passages first near, and then afar off, as if the true
+      interpretation depended on perspective. Having thus gained a little time,
+      he said, &ldquo;Well, I think the meaning is clear enough. We are to hide our
+      own light under a bushel. But it don't say an agent is to hide his
+      employer's.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be serious, sir. This is a great authority.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, of course, of course. Still&mdash;if you won't be offended, ma'am&mdash;times
+      are changed since then. It was a very small place, where news spread of
+      itself; and all that cannot be written for theatrical agents, because
+      there wasn't one in creation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so now their little customs, lately invented, like themselves, are to
+      prevail against God's im-mor-tal law!&rdquo; It was something half way between
+      Handel and mellowed thunder the way her grand contralto suddenly rolled
+      out these three words. Joseph was cunning. He put on a crushed appearance,
+      deceived by which the firm but gentle Klosking began to soften her tone
+      directly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has given me pain,&rdquo; said she, sorrowfully. &ldquo;And I am afraid God will
+      be angry with us both for our ostentation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not He,&rdquo; said Joseph, consolingly. &ldquo;Bless your heart, He is not half so
+      irritable as the parsons fancy; they confound Him with themselves.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina ignored this suggestion with perfect dignity and flowed on: &ldquo;All I
+      stipulate now is that I may not see this pitiable parade in print.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is past praying for, then,&rdquo; said Ashmead, resolutely. &ldquo;You might as
+      well try to stop the waves as check publicity&mdash;in our day. Your
+      munificence to the poor&mdash;confound the lazy lot!&mdash;and the
+      gratitude of those pompous prigs, the deputation&mdash;the presentation&mdash;your
+      admirable reply&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You never heard it, now&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which, as you say, I was not so fortunate as to hear, and so must content
+      myself with describing it&mdash;all this is flying north, south, east, and
+      west.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no, no, no! You have not <i>advertised</i> it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not advertised it! For what do you take me? Wait till you see the bill I
+      am running up against you. Madam, you must take people as they are. Don't
+      try to un-Ashmead <i>me;</i> it is impossible. Catch up that knife and
+      kill me. I'll not resist; on the contrary, I'll sit down and prepare an
+      obituary notice for the weeklies, and say I did it. BUT WHILE I BREATHE I
+      ADVERTISE.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Joseph was defiant; and the Klosking shrugged her noble shoulders, and
+      said, &ldquo;You best of creatures, you are incurable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To follow this incident to its conclusion, not a week after this scene,
+      Ina Klosking detected, in an English paper,
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;A CHARITABLE ACT.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle Klosking, the great contralto, having won a large sum of
+      money at the Kursaal, has given a thousand pounds to the poor of the
+      place. The civic authorities hearing of this, and desirous to mark their
+      sense of so noble a donation, have presented her with the freedom of the
+      burgh, written on vellum and gold. Mademoiselle Klosking received the
+      compliment with charming grace and courtesy; but her modesty is said to
+      have been much distressed at the publicity hereby given to an act she
+      wished to be known only to the persons relieved by her charity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina caught the culprit and showed him this. &ldquo;A thousand pounds!&rdquo; said she.
+      &ldquo;Are you not ashamed? Was ever a niggardly act so embellished and
+      exaggerated? I feel my face very red, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I'll explain that in a moment,&rdquo; said Joseph, amicably. &ldquo;Each nation
+      has a coin it is always quoting. France counts in francs, Germany in
+      thalers, America in dollars, England in pounds. When a thing costs a
+      million francs in France, or a million dollars in the States, that is
+      always called a million pounds in the English journals: otherwise it would
+      convey no distinct idea at all to an Englishman. Turning thalers and
+      francs into pounds&mdash;<i>that</i> is not <i>exaggeration;</i> it is
+      only <i>translation.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina gave him such a look. He replied with an unabashed smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She shrugged her shoulders in silence this time, and, to the best of my
+      belief, made no more serious attempts to un-Ashmead her Ashmead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A month had now passed, and that was a little more than half the dreary
+      time she had to wade through. She began to count the days, and that made
+      her pine all the more. Time is like a kettle. Be blind to him, he flies;
+      watch him, he lags. Her sweet temper was a little affected, and she even
+      reproached Ashmead for holding her out false hopes that his advertisements
+      of her gains would induce Severne to come to her, or even write. &ldquo;No,&rdquo;
+       said she; &ldquo;there must be some greater attraction. Karl says that Miss
+      Vizard, who called upon me, was a beauty, and dark. Perhaps she was the
+      lovely girl I saw at the opera. She has never been there since: and he is
+      gone to England with people of that name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but that Miss Vizard called on you. She can't intend to steal him
+      from you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But she may not know; a woman may injure another without intending. He
+      may deceive her; he has betrayed me. Her extraordinary beauty terrifies
+      me. It enchanted me; and how much more a man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Joseph said he thought this was all fancy; and as for his advertisements,
+      it was too early yet to pronounce on their effect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The very day after this conversation he bounced into her room in great
+      dudgeon. &ldquo;There, madam! the advertisements <i>have</i> produced an effect;
+      and not a pleasant one. Here's a detective on to us. He is feeling his way
+      with Karl. I knew the man in a moment; calls himself Poikilus in print,
+      and Smith to talk to; but he is Aaron at the bottom of it all, and can
+      speak several languages. Confound their impudence! putting a detective on
+      to <i>us,</i> when it is they that are keeping dark.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who do you think has sent him?&rdquo; asked Ina, intently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The party interested, I suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Interested in what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, in the money you won; for he was drawing Karl about that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then <i>he</i> sent the man!&rdquo; And Ina began to pant and change color.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, now you put it to me, I think so. Come to look at it, it is
+      certain. Who else <i>could</i> it be? Here is a brace of sweeps. They
+      wouldn't be the worse for a good kicking. You say the word, and Smith
+      shall have one, at all events.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alas! my friend,&rdquo; said Ina, &ldquo;for once you are slow. What! a messenger
+      comes here direct from <i>him;</i> and are we so dull we can learn nothing
+      from him who comes to question us? Let me think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She leaned her forehead on her white hand, and her face seemed slowly to
+      fill with intellectual power.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That man,&rdquo; said she at last, &ldquo;is the only link between him and me. I must
+      speak to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she thought again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not yet. He must be detained in the house. Letters may come to him,
+      and their postmarks may give us some clew.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll recommend the house to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that is not necessary. He will lodge here of his own accord. Does he
+      know you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not give him the least suspicion that you know he is a detective.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, I won't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If he sounds you about the money, say nobody knows much about it, except
+      Mademoiselle Klosking. If you can get the matter so far, come and tell me.
+      But be <i>you</i> very reserved, for you are not clear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead received these instructions meekly, and went into the <i>salle 'a
+      manger</i> and ordered dinner. Smith was there, and had evidently got some
+      information from Karl, for he opened an easy conversation with Ashmead,
+      and it ended in their dining together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Smith played the open-handed country man to the life&mdash;stood
+      champagne. Ashmead chattered, and seemed quite off his guard. Smith
+      approached the subject cautiously. &ldquo;Gamble here as much as ever?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All day, some of them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ladies and all?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, the ladies are the worst.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;No; are they now? Ah, that reminds me. I heard there was a lady in this
+very house won a pot o' money.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is true. I am her agent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose she lost it all next day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, not all, for she gave a thousand pounds to the poor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The dressmakers collared the rest?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot say. I have nothing to do except with her theatrical business.
+      She will make more by that than she ever made at play.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, is she tip-top?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The most rising singer in Europe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like to see her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That you can easily do. She sings tonight. I'll pass you in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a good fellow. Have a bit of supper with me afterward. Bottle of
+      fizz.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      These two might be compared to a couple of spiders, each taking the other
+      for a fly. Smith was enchanted with Ina's singing, or pretended. Ashmead
+      was delighted with him, or pretended.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Introduce me to her,&rdquo; said Smith.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dare not do that. You are not professional, are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, but you can say I am, for a lark.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead said he should like to; but it would not do, unless he was very
+      wary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I'm fly,&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;She won't get anything out of me. I've
+      been behind the scenes often enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Ashmead said he would go and ask her if he might present a London
+      manager to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He soon brought back the answer. &ldquo;She is too tired to-night: but I pressed
+      her, and she says she will be charmed if you will breakfast with her
+      to-morrow at eleven.&rdquo; He did not say that he was to be with her at
+      half-past ten for special instructions. They were very simple. &ldquo;My
+      friend,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I mean to tell this man something which he will think
+      it his duty to telegraph or write to <i>him</i> immediately. It was for
+      this I would not have the man to supper, being after post-time. This
+      morning he shall either write or telegraph, and then, if you are as clever
+      in this as you are in some things, you will watch him, and find out the
+      address he sends to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead listened very attentively, and fell into a brown study.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madam,&rdquo; said he at last, &ldquo;this is a first-rate combination. You make him
+      communicate with England, and I will do the rest. If he telegraphs, I'll
+      be at his heels. If he goes to the post, I know a way. If he posts in the
+      house, he makes it too easy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At eleven Ashmead introduced his friend &ldquo;Sharpus, manager of Drury Lane
+      Theater,&rdquo; and watched the fencing match with some anxiety, Ina being
+      little versed in guile. But she had tact and self-possession; and she was
+      not an angel, after all, but a woman whose wits were sharpened by love and
+      suffering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sharpus, alias Smith, played his assumed character to perfection. He gave
+      the Klosking many incidents of business and professional anecdotes, and
+      was excellent company. The Klosking was gracious, and more <i>bonne enfant</i>
+      than Ashmead had ever seen her. It was a fine match between her and the
+      detective. At last he made his approaches.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I hear we are to congratulate you on success at <i>rouge et noir</i>
+      as well as opera. Is it true that you broke the bank?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perfectly,&rdquo; was the frank reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And won a million?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More or less,&rdquo; said the Klosking, with an open smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope it was a good lump, for our countrymen leave hundreds of thousands
+      here every season.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was four thousand nine hundred pounds, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Phew! Well, I wish it had been double. You are not so close as our friend
+      here, madam.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir; and shall I tell you why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you like, madam,&rdquo; said Smith, with assumed indifference.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Ashmead is a model agent; he never allows himself to see anybody's
+      interests but mine. Now the truth is, another person has an interest in my
+      famous winnings. A gentleman handed 25 pounds to Mr. Ashmead to play with.
+      He did not do so; but I came in and joined 25 pounds of my own to that 25
+      pounds, and won an enormous sum. Of course, if the gentleman chooses to be
+      chivalrous and abandon his claim, he can; but that is not the way of the
+      world, you know. I feel sure he will come to me for his share some day;
+      and the sooner the better, for money burns the pocket.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sharpus, alias Smith, said this was really a curious story. &ldquo;Now suppose,&rdquo;
+       said he, &ldquo;some fine day a letter was to come asking you to remit that
+      gentleman his half, what should you do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should decline; it might be an <i>escroc.</i> No. Mr. Ashmead here
+      knows the gentleman. Do you not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll swear to him anywhere.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then to receive his money he must face the eye of Ashmead. Ha! ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The detective turned the conversation, and never came back to the subject;
+      but shortly he pleaded an engagement, and took his leave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead lingered behind, but Ina hurried him off, with an emphatic command
+      not to leave this man out of his sight a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He violated this order, for in five minutes he ran back to tell her, in an
+      agitated whisper, that Smith was, at that moment, writing a letter in the
+      <i>salle 'a manger.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, pray don't come here!&rdquo; cried Ina, in despair. &ldquo;Do not lose sight of
+      him for a moment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give me that letter to post, then,&rdquo; said Ashmead, and snatched one up Ina
+      had directed overnight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went to the hotel door, and lighted a cigar; out came Smith with a
+      letter in his very hand. Ashmead peered with all his eyes; but Smith held
+      the letter vertically in his hand and the address inward. The letter was
+      sealed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead watched him, and saw he was going to the General Post. He knew a
+      shorter cut, ran, and took it, and lay in wait. As Smith approached the
+      box, letter in hand, he bustled up in a furious hurry, and posted his own
+      letter so as to stop Smith's hand at the very aperture before he could
+      insert his letter. He saw, apologized, and drew back. Smith laughed, and
+      said, &ldquo;All right, old man. That is to your sweetheart, or you wouldn't be
+      in such a hurry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; it was to my grandmother,&rdquo; said Ashmead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; said Smith, and poked the ribs of Joseph. They went home jocular;
+      but the detective was no sooner out of the way than Ashmead stole up to
+      Ina Klosking, and put his finger to his lips; for Karl was clearing away,
+      and in no hurry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They sat on tenter-hooks and thought he never would go. He did go at last,
+      and then the Klosking and Ashmead came together like two magnets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right! Letter to post. Saw address quite plain&mdash;Edward Severne,
+      Esq.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Vizard Court.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Taddington&mdash;Barfordshire&mdash;England.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina, who was standing all on fire, now sat down and interlaced her hands.
+      &ldquo;Vizard!&rdquo; said she, gloomily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; Vizard Court,&rdquo; said Ashmead, triumphantly; &ldquo;that means he is a large
+      landed proprietor, and you will easily find him if he is there in a
+      month.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He will be there,&rdquo; said Ina. &ldquo;She is very beautiful. She is dark, too,
+      and he loves change. Oh, if to all I have suffered he adds <i>that</i>&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you will forgive him <i>that,&rdquo;</i> said Ashmead, shaking his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never. Look at me, Joseph Ashmead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at her with some awe, for she seemed transformed, and her Danish
+      eye gleamed strangely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You who have seen my torments and my fidelity, mark what I say: If he is
+      false to me with another woman, I shall kill him&mdash;or else I shall
+      hate him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She took her desk and wrote, at Ashmead's dictation,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Vizard Court, Taddington, Barfordshire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIX.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THE next morning Vizard carried Lord Uxmoor away to a magistrates'
+      meeting, and left the road clear to Severne; but Zoe gave him no
+      opportunity until just before luncheon, and then she put on her bonnet and
+      came downstairs; but Fanny was with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne, who was seated patiently in his bedroom with the door ajar, came
+      out to join them, feeling sure Fanny would openly side with him, or slip
+      away and give him his opportunity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, as the young ladies stood on the broad flight of steps at the hall
+      door, an antique figure drew nigh&mdash;an old lady, the shape of an egg,
+      so short and stout was she. On her head she wore a black silk bonnet
+      constructed many years ago, with a droll design, viz., to keep off sun,
+      rain, and wind; it was like an iron coal scuttle, slightly shortened; yet
+      have I seen some very pretty faces very prettily framed in such a bonnet.
+      She had an old black silk gown that only reached to her ankle, and over it
+      a scarlet cloak of superfine cloth, fine as any colonel or queen's
+      outrider ever wore, and looking splendid, though she had used it forty
+      years, at odd times. This dame had escaped the village ill, rheumatics,
+      and could toddle along without a staff at a great, and indeed a fearful,
+      pace; for, owing to her build, she yawed so from side to side at every
+      step that, to them who knew her not, a capsize appeared inevitable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Judge, I declare,&rdquo; cried Zoe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, Miss Hannah Judge it is. Your sarvant, ma'am;&rdquo; and she dropped two
+      courtesies, one for each lady.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Judge was Harrington's old nurse. Zoe often paid a visit to her
+      cottage, but she never came to Vizard Court except on Harrington's
+      birthday, when the servants entertained all the old pensioners and
+      retainers at supper. Her sudden appearance, therefore, and in gala
+      costume, astonished Zoe. Probably her face betrayed this, for the old lady
+      began, &ldquo;You wonder to see me here, now, doan't ye?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Mrs. Judge,&rdquo; said Zoe, diplomatically, &ldquo;nobody has a better right
+      to come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You be very good, miss. I don't doubt my welcome nohow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; said Zoe, playfully, &ldquo;you seldom do us the honor; so I <i>am</i> a
+      little surprised. What can I do for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You does enough for me, miss, you and young squire. I bain't come to ask
+      no favors. I ain't one o' that sort. I'll tell ye why I be come. 'Tis to
+      warn you all up here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is alarming,&rdquo; said Zoe to Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is as may be,&rdquo; said Mrs. Judge; &ldquo;forwarned, forearmed, the by-word
+      sayeth. There is a young 'oman a-prowling about this here parish as don't
+      belong to <i>hus.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La,&rdquo; said Fanny, &ldquo;mustn't we visit your parish if we were not born
+      there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you take me up before I be down, miss,&rdquo; said the old nurse, a
+      little severely. &ldquo;'Tain't for the likes of you I speak, which you are a
+      lady, and visits the Court by permission of squire; but what I objects to
+      is&mdash;hinterlopers.&rdquo; She paused to see the effect of so big a word, and
+      then resumed, graciously, &ldquo;You see, most of our hills comes from that
+      there Hillstoke. If there's a poacher, or a thief, he is Hillstoke; they
+      harbors the gypsies as ravage the whole country, mostly; and now they have
+      let loose this here young 'oman on to us. She is a POLL PRY: goes about
+      the town a-sarching: pries into their housen and their vittels, and their
+      very beds. Old Marks have got a muck-heap at his door for his garden, ye
+      know. Well, miss, she sticks her parasole into this here, and turns it
+      about, as if she was agoing to spread it: says she, 'I must know the
+      de-com-po-si-tion of this 'ere, as you keeps under the noses of your young
+      folk.' Well, I seed her agoing her rounds, and the folk had told me her
+      ways; so I did set me down to my knitting and wait for her, and when she
+      came to me I offered her a seat; so she sat down, and says she 'This is
+      the one clean house in the village,' says she: 'you might eat your dinner
+      off the floor, let alone the chairs and tables.' 'You are very good,
+      miss,' says I. Says she, 'I wonder whether upstairs is as nice as this?'
+      'Well,' says I, 'them as keep it downstairs keeps it hup; I don't drop
+      cleanliness on the stairs, you may be sure.' 'I suppose not,' says she,
+      'but I should like to see.' That was what I was a-waiting for, you know,
+      so I said to her, 'Curiosity do breed curiosity,' says I. 'Afore you
+      sarches this here house from top to bottom I should like to see the
+      warrant.' 'What warrant?' says she. 'I've no warrant. Don't take me for an
+      enemy,' says she. 'I'm your best friend,' says she. 'I'm the new doctor.'
+      I told her I had heard a whisper of that too; but we had got a parish
+      doctor already, and one was enough. 'Not when he never comes anigh you,'
+      says she, 'and lets you go half way to meet your diseases.' 'I don't know
+      for that,' says I, and indeed I haan't a notion what she meant, for my
+      part; but says I, 'I don't want no women folk to come here a-doctoring o'
+      me, that's sartin.' So she said, 'But suppose you were very ill, and the
+      he-doctor three miles off, and fifty others to visit afore you?' 'That is
+      no odds,' says I; 'I would not be doctored by a woman.' Then she says to
+      me, says she, 'Now you look me in the face.' 'I can do that,' says I;
+      'you, or anybody else. I'm an honest woman, <i>I</i> am;' so I up and
+      looked her in the face as bold as brass. 'Then,' says she, 'am I to
+      understand that, if you was to be ill to-morrow, you would rather die than
+      be doctored by a woman?' She thought to daant me, you see, so I says,
+      'Well, I don't know as I oodn't.' You do laugh, miss. Well, that is what
+      she did. 'All right,' says she. 'Make haste and die, my good soul,' says
+      she, 'for, while you live, you'll be a hobelisk to reform.' So she went
+      off, but I made to the door, and called after her I should die when God
+      pleased, and I had seen a good many young folk laid out, that looked as
+      like to make old bones as ever she does&mdash;chalk-faced&mdash;skinny&mdash;-to-a-d!
+      And I called after her she was no lady. No more she ain't, to come into my
+      own house and call a decent woman 'a hobelisk!' Oh! oh! Which I never <i>was,</i>
+      not even in my giddy days, but did work hard in my youth, and am respect
+      for my old age.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, nurse, yes; who doubts it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And nursed young squire, and, Lord bless your heart, a was a poor puny
+      child when I took him to my breast, and in six months the finest,
+      chubbiest boy in all the parish; and his dry-nurse for years arter, and
+      always at his heels a-keeping him out of the stable and the ponds, and
+      consorting with the village boys; and a proper resolute child he was, and
+      hard to manage: and my own man that is gone, and my son 'that's not so
+      clever as some,' * I always done justice by them both, and arter all to be
+      called a hobelisk&mdash;oh! oh! oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     * Paraphrase for the noun substantive &ldquo;idiot.&rdquo; It is also a
+     specimen of the Greek figure &ldquo;litotes.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Then behold the gentle Zoe with her arm round nurse's neck, and her
+      handkerchief to nurse's eyes, murmuring, &ldquo;There&mdash;there&mdash;don't
+      cry, nurse; everybody esteems you, and that lady did not mean to affront
+      you; she did not say 'obelisk;' she said 'obstacle.' That only means that
+      you stand in the way of her improvements; there was not much harm in that,
+      you know. And, nurse, please give that lady her way, to oblige me; for it
+      is by my brother's invitation she is here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye doan't say so! What, does he hold with female she-doctoresses?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He wishes to <i>try</i> one. She has his authority.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye doan't say so!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Con&mdash;sarn the wench! why couldn't she says so, 'stead o'
+      hargefying?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is a stranger, and means well; so she did not think it necessary. You
+      must take my word for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La, miss, I'll take your'n before hers, you <i>may</i> be sure,&rdquo; said
+      Mrs. Judge, with a decided remnant of hostility.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now a proverbial incident happened. Miss Rhoda Gale came in sight, and
+      walked rapidly into the group.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After greeting the ladies, and ignoring Severne, who took off his hat to
+      her, with deep respect, in the background, she turned to Mrs. Judge.
+      &ldquo;Well, old lady,&rdquo; said she cheerfully, &ldquo;and how do you do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Judge replied, in fawning accents, &ldquo;Thank you, miss, I be well enough
+      to get about. I was a-telling 'em about you&mdash;and, to be sure, it is
+      uncommon good of a lady like you to trouble so much about poor folk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't mention it; it is my duty and my inclination. You see, my good
+      woman, it is not so easy to cure diseases as people think; therefore it is
+      a part of medicine to prevent them: and to prevent them you must remove
+      the predisposing causes, and to find out all those causes you must have
+      eyes, and use them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are right, miss,&rdquo; said La Judge, obsequiously. &ldquo;Prevention is better
+      nor cure, and they say 'a stitch in time saves nine.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is capital good sense, Mrs. Judge; and pray tell the villagers that,
+      and make them as full of 'the wisdom of nations' as you seem to be, and
+      their houses as clean&mdash;if you can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll do my best, miss,&rdquo; said Mrs. Judge, obsequiously; &ldquo;it is the least
+      we can all do for a young lady like you that leaves the pomps and
+      vanities, and gives her mind to bettering the condishing of poor folk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Having once taken this cue and entered upon a vein of flattery, she would
+      have been extremely voluble&mdash;for villages can vie with cities in
+      adulation as well as in detraction&mdash;but she was interrupted by a
+      footman announcing luncheon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe handed Mrs. Judge over to the man with a request that he would be kind
+      to her, and have her to dine with the servants.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yellowplush saw the gentlefolks away, and then, parting his legs, and
+      putting his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets, delivered himself thus:
+      &ldquo;Well, old girl, am I to give you my harm round to the kitchen, or do you
+      know the way by yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Young chap,&rdquo; said Mrs. Judge, and turned a glittering eye, &ldquo;I did know
+      the way afore you was born, and I should know it all one if so be you was
+      to be hung, or sent to Botany Bay&mdash;to larn manners.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Having delivered this shot, she rolled away in the direction of Roast
+      Beef.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little party had hardly settled at the table when they were joined by
+      Vizard and Uxmoor: both gentlemen welcomed Miss Gale more heartily than
+      the ladies had done, and before luncheon ended Vizard asked her if her
+      report was ready. She said it was.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you got it with you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then please hand it to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! it is in my head. I don't write much down; that weakens the memory.
+      If you would give me half an hour after luncheon&mdash;&rdquo; She hesitated a
+      little.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe jealoused a <i>te'te-'a-te'te,</i> and parried it skillfully. &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo;
+       said she, &ldquo;but we are all much interested: are not you, Lord Uxmoor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed I am,&rdquo; said Uxmoor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So am I,&rdquo; said Fanny, who didn't care a button.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but,&rdquo; said Rhoda, &ldquo;truths are not always agreeable, and there are
+      some that I don't like&mdash;&rdquo; She hesitated again, and this time actually
+      blushed a little.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The acute Mr. Severne, who had been watching her slyly, came to her
+      assistance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look here, old fellow,&rdquo; said he to Vizard, &ldquo;don't you see that Miss Gale
+      has discovered some spots in your paradise? but, out of delicacy, does not
+      want to publish them, but to confide them to your own ear. Then you can
+      mend them or not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale turned her eyes full on Severne. &ldquo;You are very keen at reading
+      people, sir,&rdquo; said she, dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course he is,&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;He has given great attention to your sex.
+      Well, if that is all, Miss Gale, pray speak out and gratify their
+      curiosity. You and I shall never quarrel over the truth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not so sure of that,&rdquo; said Miss Gale. &ldquo;However, I suppose I must risk
+      it. I never do get my own way; that's a fact.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After this little ebullition of spleen, she opened her budget. &ldquo;First of
+      all, I find that these villages all belong to one person; so does the
+      soil. Nobody can build cottages on a better model, nor make any other
+      improvement. You are an absolute monarch. This is a piece of Russia, not
+      England. They are all serfs, and you are the czar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is true,&rdquo; said Vizard, &ldquo;and it sounds horrid, but it works benignly.
+      Every snob who can grind the poor does grind them; but a gentleman never,
+      and he hinders others. Now, for instance, an English farmer is generally a
+      tyrant; but my power limits his tyranny. He may discharge his laborer, but
+      he can't drive him out of the village, nor rob him of parish relief, for
+      poor Hodge is <i>my</i> tenant, not a snob's. Nobody can build a beershop
+      in Islip. That is true. But if they could, they would sell bad beer, give
+      credit in the ardor of competition, poison the villagers, and demoralize
+      them. Believe me, republican institutions are beautiful on paper; but they
+      would not work well in Barfordshire villages. However, you profess to go
+      by experience in everything. There are open villages within five miles.
+      I'll give you a list. Visit them. You will find that liberty can be the
+      father of tyranny. Petty tradesmen have come in and built cottages, and
+      ground the poor down with rents unknown in Islip; farmers have built
+      cottages, and turned their laborers into slaves. Drunkenness, dissipation,
+      poverty, disaffection, and misery&mdash;that is what you will find in the
+      open villages. Now, in Islip you have an omnipotent squire, and that is an
+      abomination in theory, a mediaeval monster, a blot on modern civilization;
+      but practically the poor monster is a softener of poverty, an incarnate
+      buffer between the poor and tyranny, the poor and misery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll inspect the open villages, and suspend my opinion till then,&rdquo; said
+      Miss Gale, heartily; &ldquo;but, in the meantime, you must admit that where
+      there is great power there is great responsibility.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, your little outlying province of Hillstoke is full of
+      rheumatic adults and putty-faced children. The two phenomena arise from
+      one cause&mdash;the water. No lime in it, and too many reptiles. It was
+      the children gave me the clew. I suspected the cherry stones at first: but
+      when I came to look into it, I found they eat just as many cherry stones
+      in the valley, and are as rosy as apples; but, then, there is well water
+      in the valleys. So I put this and that together, and I examined the water
+      they drink at Hillstoke. Sir, it is full of animalcula. Some of these
+      cannot withstand the heat of the human stomach; but others can, for I
+      tried them in mud artificially heated. [A giggle from Fanny Dover.] Thanks
+      to your microscope, I have made sketches of several amphibia who live in
+      those boys' stomachs, and irritate their membranes, and share their scanty
+      nourishment, besides other injuries.&rdquo; Thereupon she produced some
+      drawings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were handed round, and struck terror in gentle bosoms. &ldquo;Oh,
+      gracious!&rdquo; cried Fanny, &ldquo;one ought to drink nothing but champagne.&rdquo; Uxmoor
+      looked grave. Vizard affected to doubt their authenticity. He said, &ldquo;You
+      may not know it, but I am a zoologist, and these are antediluvian
+      eccentricities that have long ceased to embellish the world we live in.
+      Fie! Miss Gale. Down with anachronisms.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale smiled, and admitted that one or two of the prodigies resembled
+      antediluvian monsters, but said oracularly that nature was fond of
+      producing the same thing on a large scale and a small scale, and it was
+      quite possible the small type of antediluvian monster might have survived
+      the large.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is most ingenious,&rdquo; said Vizard; &ldquo;but it does not account for this
+      fellow. He is not an antediluvian; he is a barefaced modern, for he is A
+      STEAM ENGINE.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This caused a laugh, for the creature had a perpendicular neck, like a
+      funnel, that rose out of a body like a horizontal cylinder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At any rate,&rdquo; said Miss Gale, &ldquo;the little monster was in the world first;
+      so he is not an imitation of man's work.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Vizard, &ldquo;after all, we have had enough of the monsters of the
+      deep. Now we can vary the monotony, and say the monsters of the shallow.
+      But I don't see how they can cause rheumatism.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never said they did,&rdquo; retorted Miss Gale, sharply: &ldquo;but the water which
+      contains them is soft water. There is no lime in it, and that is bad for
+      the bones in every way. Only the children drink it as it is: the wives
+      boil it, and so drink soft water and dead reptiles in their tea. The men
+      instinctively avoid it and drink nothing but beer. Thus, for want of a
+      pure diluent with lime in solution, an acid is created in the blood which
+      produces gout in the rich, and rheumatism in the poor, thanks to their
+      meager food and exposure to the weather.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor things!&rdquo; said womanly Zoe. &ldquo;What is to be done?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La!&rdquo; said Fanny, &ldquo;throw lime into the ponds. That will kill the monsters,
+      and cure the old people's bones into the bargain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This compendious scheme struck the imagination, but did not satisfy the
+      judgment of the assembly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fanny!&rdquo; said Zoe, reproachfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That <i>would</i> be killing two birds with one stone,&rdquo; suggested Uxmoor,
+      satirically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The tender mercies of the wicked are cruel,&rdquo; explained Vizard,
+      composedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe reiterated her question, What was to be done?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale turned to her with a smile. <i>&ldquo;We</i> have got nothing to do
+      but to point out these abominations. The person to act is the Russian
+      autocrat, the paternal dictator, the monarch of all he surveys, and
+      advocate of monarchial institutions. He is the buffer between the poor and
+      all their ills, especially poison: he must dig a well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Every eye being turned on Vizard to see how he took this, he said, a
+      little satirically, &ldquo;What! does Science bid me bore for water at the top
+      of a hill?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She does <i>so,&rdquo;</i> said the virago. &ldquo;Now look here, good people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And although they were not all good people, yet they all did look there,
+      she shone so with intelligence, being now quite on her mettle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Half-civilized man makes blunders that both the savage and the civilized
+      avoid. The savage builds his hut by a running stream. The civilized man
+      draws good water to his door, though he must lay down pipes from a
+      highland lake to a lowland city. It is only half-civilized man that builds
+      a village on a hill, and drinks worms, and snakes, and efts, and
+      antediluvian monsters in limeless water. Then I say, if great but half
+      civilized monarchs would consult Science <i>before</i> they built their
+      serf huts, Science would say, 'Don't you go and put down human habitations
+      far from pure water&mdash;the universal diluent, the only cheap diluent,
+      and the only liquid which does not require digestion, and therefore must
+      always assist, and never chemically resist, the digestion of solids.' But
+      when the mischief is done, and the cottages are built on a hill three
+      miles from water, then all that Science can do is to show the remedy, and
+      the remedy is&mdash;boring.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then the remedy is like the discussion,&rdquo; said Fanny Dover, very pertly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe was amused, but shocked. Miss Gale turned her head on the offender as
+      sharp as a bird. &ldquo;Of course it is, to <i>children,&rdquo;</i> said she; &ldquo;and
+      that is why I wished to confine it to mature minds. It is to you I speak,
+      sir. Are your subjects to drink poison, or will you bore me a well?&mdash;Oh,
+      please!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you hear that?&rdquo; said Vizard, piteously, to Uxmoor. &ldquo;Threatened and
+      cajoled in one breath. Who can resist this fatal sex?&mdash;Miss Gale, I
+      will bore a well on Hillstoke common. Any idea how deep we must go&mdash;to
+      the antipodes, or only to the center?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Three hundred and thirty feet, or thereabouts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No more? Any idea what it will cost?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I have. The well, the double windlass, the iron chain, the two
+      buckets, a cupola over the well, and twenty-three keys&mdash;one for every
+      head of a house in the hamlet&mdash;will cost you about 315 pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, this is Detail made woman. How do you know all this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From Tom Wilder.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, don't you know? He is the eldest son of the Islip blacksmith, and a
+      man that will make his mark. He casts every Thursday night. He is the only
+      village blacksmith in all the county who <i>casts.</i> You know that, I
+      suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I had not the honor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, he is, then: and I thought you would consent, because you are so
+      good: and so I thought there could be no harm in sounding Tom Wilder. He
+      offers to take the whole contract, if squire's agreeable; bore the well;
+      brick it fifty yards down: he says that ought to be done, if she is to
+      have justice. 'She' is the well: and he will also construct the gear; he
+      says there must be two iron chains and two buckets going together; so then
+      the empty bucket descending will help the man or woman at the windlass to
+      draw the full bucket up. 315 pounds: one week's income, your Majesty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She has inspected our rent-roll, now,&rdquo; said Vizard, pathetically: &ldquo;and
+      knows nothing about the matter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Except that it is a mere flea-bite to you to bore through a hill for
+      water. For all that, I hope you will leave me to battle it with Tom
+      Wilder. Then you won't be cheated, for once. <i>You always are,</i> and it
+      is abominable. It would have been five hundred if you had opened the
+      business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure that is true,&rdquo; said Zoe. She added this would please Mrs.
+      Judge: she was full of the superiority of Islip to Hillstoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop a bit,&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;Miss Gale has not reported on Islip yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, dear; but she has looked into everything, for Mrs. Judge told me. You
+      have been into the cottages?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Into Marks's?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I have been into Marks's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not seem inclined to be very communicative; so Fanny, out of
+      mischief, said, pertly, &ldquo;And what did you see there, with your Argus eye?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I saw&mdash;three generations.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha! ha! La! did you now? And what were they all doing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They were all living together, night and day, in one room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This conveyed no very distinct idea to the ladies; but Vizard, for the
+      first time, turned red at this revelation before Uxmoor, improver of
+      cottage life. &ldquo;Confound the brutes!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Why, I built them a new
+      room; a larger one: didn't you see it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. They stack their potatoes in it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just like my people,&rdquo; said Uxmoor. &ldquo;That is the worst of it: they resist
+      their own improvement.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but,&rdquo; said the doctress, &ldquo;with monarchial power we can trample on
+      them for their good. Outside Marks's door at the back there is a
+      muck-heap, as he calls it; all the refuse of the house is thrown there; it
+      is a horrible melange of organic matter and decaying vegetables, a hot-bed
+      of fever and malaria. Suffocated and poisoned with the breath of a dozen
+      persons, they open the window for fresh air, and in rushes typhoid from
+      the stronghold its victims have built. Two children were buried from that
+      house last year. They were both killed by the domestic arrangements as
+      certainly as if they had been shot with a double-barreled pistol. The
+      outside roses you admire so are as delusive as flattery; their sweetness
+      covers a foul, unwholesome den.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Marks's cottage! The show place of the village!&rdquo; Zoe Vizard flushed with
+      indignation at the bold hand of truth so rudely applied to a pleasant and
+      cherished illusion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard, more candid and open to new truths, shrugged his shoulders, and
+      said, &ldquo;What can I do more than I have done?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it is not your fault,&rdquo; said the doctress, graciously. &ldquo;It is theirs.
+      Only, as you are their superior in intelligence and power, you might do
+      something to put down indecency, immorality, and disease.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I ask what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you might build a granary for the poor people's potatoes. No room
+      can keep them dry; but you build your granary upon four pillars: then that
+      is like a room over a cellar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'll build it so&mdash;if I build it at all,&rdquo; said Vizard, dryly.
+      &ldquo;What next?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you could make them stack their potatoes in the granary, and use the
+      spare room, and so divide their families, and give morality a chance. The
+      muck-heap you should disperse at once with the strong hand of power.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this last proposal, Squire Vizard&mdash;the truth must be told&mdash;delivered
+      a long, plowman's whistle at the head of his own table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pheugh!&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;for a lady that is more than half republican, you seem
+      to be taking very kindly to monarchial tyranny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, now, I'll tell you the truth,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;You have converted me.
+      Ever since you promised me the well, I have discovered that the best form
+      of government is a good-hearted tyrant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With a female viceroy over him, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only in these little domestic matters,&rdquo; said Rhoda, deprecatingly. &ldquo;Women
+      are good advisers in such things. The male physician relies on drugs.
+      Medical women are wanted to moderate that delusion; to prevent disease by
+      domestic vigilance, and cure it by selected esculents and pure air. These
+      will cure fifty for one that medicine can; besides drugs kill ever so
+      many: these never killed a creature. You will give me the granary, won't
+      you? Oh, and there's a black pond in the center of the village. Your
+      tenant Pickett, who is a fool&mdash;begging his pardon&mdash;lets all his
+      liquid manure run out of his yard into the village till it accumulates in
+      a pond right opposite the five cottages they call New Town, and its
+      exhalations taint the air. There are as many fevers in Islip as in the
+      back slums of a town. You might fill the pond up with chalk, and compel
+      Pickett to sink a tank in his yard, and cover it; then an agricultural
+      treasure would be preserved for its proper use, instead of being perverted
+      into a source of infection.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard listened civilly, and, as she stopped, requested her to go on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think we have had enough,&rdquo; said Zoe, bitterly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhoda, who was in love with Zoe, hung her head, and said, &ldquo;Yes; I have
+      been very bold.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fiddlestick!&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;Never mind those girls. <i>You</i> speak out
+      like a man: a stranger's eye always discovers things that escape the
+      natives. Proceed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I won't proceed till I have explained to Miss Vizard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may spare yourself the trouble. Miss Vizard thought Islip was a
+      paradise. You have dispelled the illusion, and she will never forgive you.
+      Miss Dover will; because she is like Gallio&mdash;she careth for none of
+      these things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a pin,&rdquo; said Fanny, with admirable frankness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but,&rdquo; said Rhoda, naively, &ldquo;I can't bear Miss Vizard to be angry
+      with me; I admire her so. Please let me explain. Islip is no paradise&mdash;quite
+      the reverse; but the faults of Islip are not <i>your</i> faults. The
+      children are ignorant; but you pay for a school. The people are poor from
+      insufficient wages; but you are not paymaster. <i>Your</i> gardeners, <i>your</i>
+      hinds, and all your outdoor people have enough. You give them houses. You
+      let cottages and gardens to the rest at half their value; and very often
+      they don't pay that, but make excuses; and you accept them, though they
+      are all stories; for they can pay everybody but you, and their one good
+      bargain is with you. Miss Vizard has carried a basket all her life with
+      things from your table for the poor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Vizard blushed crimson at this sudden revelation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If a man or a woman has served your house long, there's a pension for
+      life. You are easy, kind, and charitable. It is the faults of others I ask
+      you to cure, because you have such power. Now, for instance, if the boys
+      at Hillstoke are putty-faced, the boys at Islip have no calves to their
+      legs. That is a sure sign of deteriorating species. The lower type of
+      savage has next to no calf. The calf is a sign of civilization and due
+      nourishment. This single phenomenon was my clew, and led me to others; and
+      I have examined the mothers and the people of all ages, and I tell you it
+      is a village of starvelings. Here a child begins life a starveling, and
+      ends as he began. The nursing mother has not food enough for one, far less
+      for two. The man's wages are insufficient, and the diet is not only
+      insufficient, but injudicious. The race has declined. There are only five
+      really big, strong men&mdash;Josh Grace, Will Hudson, David Wilder,
+      Absalom Green, and Jack Greenaway; and they are all over fifty&mdash;men
+      of another generation. I have questioned these men how they were bred, and
+      they all say milk was common when they were boys. Many poor people kept a
+      cow; squire doled it; the farmers gave it or sold it cheap; but nowadays
+      it is scarcely to be had. Now, that is not your fault, but you are the man
+      who can mend it. New milk is meat and drink especially to young and
+      growing people. You have a large meadow at the back of the village. If you
+      could be persuaded to start four or five cows, and let somebody sell the
+      new milk to the poor at cost price&mdash;say, five farthings the quart.
+      You must not give it, or they will water their muckheaps with it. With
+      those cows alone you will get rid, in the next generation, of the
+      half-grown, slouching men, the hollow-eyed, narrow-chested, round-backed
+      women, and the calfless boys one sees all over Islip, and restore the
+      stalwart race that filled the little village under your sires and have
+      left proofs of their wholesome food on the tombstones: for I have read
+      every inscription, and far more people reached eighty-five between 1750
+      and 1800 than between 1820 and 1870. Ah, how I envy you to be able to do
+      such great things so easily! Water to poisoned Hillstoke with one hand;
+      milk to starved Islip with the other. This is to be indeed a king!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The enthusiast rose from the table in her excitement, and her face was
+      transfigured; she looked beautiful for the moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll do it,&rdquo; shouted Vizard; &ldquo;and you are a trump.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale sat down, and the color left her cheek entirely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny Dover, who had a very quick eye for passing events, cried out, &ldquo;Oh
+      dear! she is going to faint <i>now.&rdquo;</i> The tone implied, what a plague
+      she is!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon Severne rushed to her, and was going to sprinkle her face; but
+      she faltered, &ldquo;No! no! a glass of wine.&rdquo; He gave her one with all the
+      hurry and empressement in the world. She fixed him with a strange look as
+      she took it from him: she sipped it; one tear ran into it. She said she
+      had excited herself; but she was all right now. Elastic Rhoda!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am very glad of it,&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;You are quite strong enough without
+      fainting. For Heaven's sake, don't add woman's weakness to your artillery,
+      or you will be irresistible; and I shall have to divide Vizard Court among
+      the villagers. At present I get off cheap, and Science on the Rampage: let
+      me see&mdash;only a granary, a well, and six cows.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They'll give as much milk as twelve cows without the well,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+      It was her day for wit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This time she was rewarded with a general laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It subsided, as such things will, and then Vizard said, solemnly, &ldquo;New
+      ideas are suggested to me by this charming interview; and permit me to
+      give them a form, which will doubtless be new to these accomplished
+      ladies:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Gin there's a hole in a' your coats, I rede ye tent it; A chiel's amang
+      ye takin' notes, And, faith, he'll prent it.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe looked puzzled, and Fanny inquired what language that was.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very good language.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then perhaps you will translate it into language one can understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The English of the day, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think that would improve it, do you? Well, then:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      'If there is a defect in any one of your habilimeats, Let me earnestly
+      impress on you the expediency of repairing it; An individual is among you
+      with singular powers of observation, Which will infallibly result in
+      printing and publication.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe, you are an affectionate sister; take this too observant lady into the
+      garden, poison her with raw fruit, and bury her under a pear tree.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe said she would carry out part of the programme, if Miss Gale would
+      come.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the ladies rose and rustled away, and the rivals would have followed,
+      but Vizard detained them on the pretense of consulting them about the
+      well; but, when the ladies had gone, he owned he had done it out of his
+      hatred to the sex. He said he was sure both girls disliked his virago in
+      their hearts, so he had compelled them to spend an hour together, without
+      any man to soften their asperity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This malicious experiment was tolerably successful. The three ladies
+      strolled together, dismal as souls in purgatory. One or two little
+      attempts at conversation were made, but died out for want of sympathy.
+      Then Fanny tried personalities, the natural topic of the sex in general.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Gale, which do you admire most, Lord Uxmoor or Mr. Severne?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For their looks?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Severne.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't admire beards, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That depends. Where the mouth is well shaped and expressive, the beard
+      spoils it. Where it is commonplace, the beard hides its defect, and gives
+      a manly character. As a general rule, I think the male bird looks well
+      with his crest and feathers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so do I,&rdquo; said Fanny, warmly; &ldquo;and yet I should not like Mr. Severne
+      to have a beard. Don't you think he is very handsome?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is something more,&rdquo; said Rhoda. &ldquo;He is beautiful. If he was dressed as
+      a woman, the gentlemen would all run after him. I think his is the most
+      perfect oval face I ever saw.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you must not fall in love with him,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not mean to,&rdquo; said Rhoda. &ldquo;Falling in love is not my business: and
+      if it was, I should not select Mr. Severne.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not, pray?&rdquo; inquired Zoe haughtily. Her manner was so menacing that
+      Rhoda did not like to say too much just then. She felt her way. &ldquo;I am a
+      physiognomist,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;and I don't think he can be very truthful. He
+      is old of his age, and there are premature marks under his eyes that
+      reveal craft, and perhaps dissipation. These are hardly visible in the
+      room, but they are in the open air, when you get the full light of day. To
+      be sure, just now his face is marked with care and anxiety; that young man
+      has a good deal on his mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here the observer discovered that even this was a great deal too much. Zoe
+      was displeased, and felt affronted by her remarks, though she did not
+      condescend to notice them; so Rhoda broke off and said, &ldquo;It is not fair of
+      you, Miss Dover, to set me giving my opinion of people you must know
+      better than I do. Oh, what a garden!&rdquo; And she was off directly on a tour
+      of inspection. &ldquo;Come along,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;and I will tell you their names
+      and properties.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They could hardly keep up with her, she was so eager. The fruits did not
+      interest her, but only the simples. She was downright learned in these,
+      and found a surprising number. But the fact is, Mr. Lucas had a respect
+      for his predecessors. What they had planted, he seldom uprooted&mdash;at
+      least, he always left a specimen. Miss Gale approved his system highly,
+      until she came to a row of green leaves like small horseradish, which was
+      planted by the side of another row that really was horseradish.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is too bad, even for Islip,&rdquo; said Miss Gale. &ldquo;Here is one of our
+      deadliest poisons planted by the very side of an esculent herb, which it
+      resembles. You don't happen to have hired the devil for gardener at any
+      time, do you? Just fancy! any cook might come out here for horseradish,
+      and gather this plant, and lay you all dead at your own table. It is the
+      Aconitum of medicine, the Monk's-hood or Wolf's-bane' of our ancestors.
+      Call the gardener, please, and have every bit of it pulled up by the
+      roots. None of your lives are safe while poisons and esculents are planted
+      together like this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And she would not budge till Zoe directed a gardener to dig up all the
+      Aconite. A couple of them went to work and soon uprooted it. The gardeners
+      then asked if they should burn it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not for all the world,&rdquo; said Miss Gale. &ldquo;Make a bundle of it for me to
+      take home. It is only poison in the hands of ignoramuses. It is most
+      sovereign medicine. I shall make tinctures, and check many a sharp ill
+      with it. Given in time, it cuts down fever wonderfully; and when you check
+      the fever, you check the disease.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon after this Miss Gale said she had not come to stop; she was on her
+      way to Taddington to buy lint and German styptics, and many things useful
+      in domestic surgery. &ldquo;For,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;the people at Hillstoke are
+      relenting; at least, they run to me with their cut fingers and black eyes,
+      though they won't trust me with their sacred rheumatics. I must also
+      supply myself with vermifuges till the well is dug, and so mitigate
+      puerile puttiness and internal torments.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other ladies were not sorry to get rid of an irrelevant zealot, who
+      talked neither love, nor dress, nor anything that reaches the soul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So Zoe said, &ldquo;What, going already?&rdquo; and having paid that tax to
+      politeness, returned to the house with alacrity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the doctress would not go without her Wolf's-bane, Aconite ycleped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The irrelevant zealot being gone, the true business of the mind was
+      resumed; and that is love-making, or novelists give us false pictures of
+      life, and that is impossible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the doctress drove from the front door, Lord Uxmoor emerged from the
+      library&mdash;a coincidence that made both girls smile; he hoped Miss
+      Vizard was not too tired to take another turn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no!&rdquo; said Zoe: &ldquo;are you, Fanny?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the first step they took, Severne came round an angle of the building
+      and joined them. He had watched from the balcony of his bedroom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Both men looked black at each other, and made up to Zoe. She felt
+      uncomfortable, and hardly knew what to do. However, she would not seem to
+      observe, and was polite, but a little stiff, to both.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, at last, Severne, having asserted his rights, as he thought, gave
+      way, but not without a sufficient motive, as may be gathered from his
+      first word to Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear friend, for Heaven's sake, what is the matter? She is angry with
+      me about something. What is it? has she told you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a word. But I see she is in a fury with you; and really it is too
+      ridiculous. You told a fib; that is the mighty matter, I do believe. No,
+      it isn't; for you have told her a hundred, no doubt, and she liked you all
+      the better; but this time you have been naughty enough to be found out,
+      and she is romantic, and thinks her lover ought to be the soul of truth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, and so he ought,&rdquo; said Ned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He isn't, then;&rdquo; and Fanny burst out laughing so loud that Zoe turned
+      round and enveloped them both in one haughty glance, as the exaggerating
+      Gaul would say.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La! there was a look for you!&rdquo; said Fanny, pertly: &ldquo;as if I cared for her
+      black brows.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do, though: pray remember that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then tell no more fibs. Such a fuss about nothing! What is a fib?&rdquo; and
+      she turned up her little nose very contemptuously at all such trivial
+      souls as minded a little mendacity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Indeed, she disclaimed the importance of veracity so imperiously that
+      Severne was betrayed into saying, &ldquo;Well, not much, between you and me; and
+      I'll be bound I can explain it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Explain it to me, then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but I don't know&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which of your fibs it was.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Another silver burst of laughter. But Zoe only vouchsafed a slightly
+      contemptuous movement of her shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, no,&rdquo; said Severne, half laughing himself at the sprightly jade's
+      smartness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, that friend of yours that called at luncheon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne turned grave directly. &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You said he was your lawyer, and came about a lease.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So he did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And his name was Jackson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So it was.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This won't do. You mustn't fib to <i>me!</i> It was Poikilus, a Secret
+      Inquiry; and they all know it; now tell me, without a fib&mdash;if you can&mdash;what
+      ever did you want with Poikilus?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne looked aghast. He faltered out, &ldquo;Why, how could they know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, he advertises, stupid! and Lord Uxmoor and Harrington had seen it.
+      Gentlemen <i>read</i> advertisements. That is one of their peculiarities.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course he advertises: that is not what I mean. I did not drop his
+      card, did I? No; I am sure I pocketed it directly. What mischief-making
+      villain told them it was Poikilus?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny colored a little, but said, hastily, &ldquo;Ah, that I could not tell
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The footman, perhaps?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should not wonder.&rdquo; (What is a fib?)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Curse him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't swear at the servants; that is bad taste.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not when he has ruined me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ruined you?&mdash;nonsense! Make up some other fib, and excuse the
+      first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't. I don't know what to do; and before my rival, too! This accounts
+      for the air of triumph he has worn ever since, and her glances of scorn
+      and pity. She is an angel, and I have lost her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stuff and nonsense!&rdquo; said Fanny Dover. &ldquo;Be a man, and tell me the truth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I will,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;for I am in despair. It is all that cursed money
+      at Homburg. I could not clear my estate without it. I dare not go for it.
+      She forbade me; and indeed I can't bear to leave her for anything; so I
+      employed Poikilus to try and learn whether that lady has the money still,
+      and whether she means to rob me of it or not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny Dover reflected a moment, then delivered herself thus: &ldquo;You were
+      wrong to tell a fib about it. What you must do now&mdash;brazen it out.
+      Tell her you love her, but have got your pride and will not come into her
+      family a pauper. Defy her, to be sure; we like to be defied now and then,
+      when we are fond of the fellow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will do it,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;but she shuns me. I can't get a word with her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny said she would try and manage that for him; and as the rest of their
+      talk might not interest the reader, and certainly would not edify him, I
+      pass on to the fact that she did, that very afternoon, go into Zoe's room,
+      and tell her Severne was very unhappy: he had told a fib; but it was not
+      intended to deceive her, and he wished to explain the whole thing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did he explain it to you?&rdquo; asked Zoe, rather sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; but he said enough to make me think you are using him very hardly. To
+      be sure, you have another string to your bow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that is the interpretation you put.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the true one. Do you think you can make <i>me</i> believe you would
+      have shied him so long if Lord Uxmoor had not been in the house?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe bridled, but made no reply, and Fanny went to her own room, laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe was much disturbed. She secretly longed to hear Severne justify
+      himself. She could not forgive a lie, nor esteem a liar. She was one of
+      those who could pardon certain things in a woman she would not forgive in
+      a man. Under a calm exterior, she had suffered a noble distress; but her
+      pride would not let her show it. Yet now that he had appealed to her for a
+      hearing, and Fanny knew he had appealed, she began to falter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still Fanny was not altogether wrong: the presence of a man incapable of a
+      falsehood, and that man devoted to her, was a little damaging to Severne,
+      though not so much as Miss Artful thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, this very afternoon Lord Uxmoor had told her he must leave Vizard
+      Court to-morrow morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So Zoe said to herself, &ldquo;I need not make opportunities; after to-morrow he
+      will find plenty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She had an instinctive fear he would tell more falsehoods to cover those
+      he had told; and then she should despise him, and they would both be
+      miserable; for she felt for a moment a horrible dread that she might both
+      love and despise the same person, if it was Edward Severne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There were several people to dinner, and, as hostess, she managed not to
+      think too much of either of her admirers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, a stolen glance showed her they were both out of spirits.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She felt sorry. Her nature was very pitiful. She asked herself was it her
+      fault, and did not quite acquit herself. Perhaps she ought to have been
+      more open and declared her sentiments. Yet would that have been modest in
+      a lady who was not formally engaged? She was puzzled. She had no
+      experience to guide her: only her high breeding and her virginal
+      instincts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was glad when the night ended.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She caught herself wishing the next day was gone too.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she retired Uxmoor was already gone, and Severne opened the door to
+      her. He fixed his eyes on her so imploringly, it made her heart melt; but
+      she only blushed high, and went away sad and silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As her maid was undressing her she caught sight of a letter on her table.
+      &ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a letter,&rdquo; said Rosa, very demurely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe divined that the girl had been asked to put it there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her bosom heaved, but she would not encourage such proceedings, nor let
+      Rosa see how eager she was to hear those very excuses she had evaded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, for all that, Rosa knew she was going to read it, for she only had
+      her gown taken off and a peignoir substituted, and her hair let down and
+      brushed a little. Then she dismissed Rosa, locked the door, and pounced on
+      the letter. It lay on her table with the seal uppermost. She turned it
+      round. It was not from <i>him:</i> it was from Lord Uxmoor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She sat down and read it.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;DEAR MISS VIZARD&mdash;I have had no opportunities of telling you all I feel
+for you, without attracting an attention that might have been unpleasant
+to you; but I am sure you must have seen that I admired you at first
+sight. That was admiration of your beauty and grace, though even then you
+showed me a gentle heart and a sympathy that made me grateful. But, now I
+have had the privilege of being under the same roof with you, it is
+admiration no longer&mdash;it is deep and ardent love; and I see that my
+happiness depends on you. Will you confide <i>your</i> happiness to me? I
+don't know that I could make you as proud and happy as I should be
+myself; but I should try very hard, out of gratitude as well as love. We
+have also certain sentiments in common. That would be one bond more.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But indeed I feel I cannot make my love a good bargain to you, for you
+      are peerless, and deserve a much better lot in every way than I can offer.
+      I can only kneel to you and say, 'Zoe Vizard, if your heart is your own to
+      give, pray be my lover, my queen, my wife.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your faithful servant and devoted admirer,
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;UXMOOR.&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor fellow!&rdquo; said Zoe, and her eyes filled. She sat quite quiet, with
+      the letter open in her hand. She looked at it, and murmured, &ldquo;A pearl is
+      offered me here: wealth, title, all that some women sigh for, and&mdash;what
+      I value above all&mdash;a noble nature, a true heart, and a soul above all
+      meanness. No; Uxmoor will never tell a falsehood. He <i>could</i> not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She sighed deeply, and closed her eyes. All was still. The light was
+      faint; yet she closed her eyes, like a true woman, to see the future
+      clearer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, in the sober and deep calm, there seemed to be faint peeps of coming
+      things: It appeared a troubled sea, and Uxmoor's strong hand stretched out
+      to rescue her. If she married him, she knew the worst&mdash;an honest man
+      she esteemed, and had almost an affection for, but no love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As some have an impulse to fling themselves from a height, she had one to
+      give herself to Uxmoor, quietly, irrevocably, by three written words
+      dispatched that night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But it was only an impulse. If she had written it, she would have torn it
+      up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently a light thrill passed through her: she wore a sort of
+      half-furtive, guilty look, and opened the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ay, there he stood in the moonlight, waiting to be heard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not start nor utter any exclamation. Somehow or other she almost
+      knew he was there before she opened the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; said she, with a world of meaning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You grant me a hearing at last.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do. But it is no use. You cannot explain away a falsehood.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course not. I am here to confess that I told a falsehood. But it was
+      not you I wished to deceive. I was going to explain the whole thing to
+      you, and tell you all; but there is no getting a word with you since that
+      lord came.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He had nothing to do with it. I should have been just as much shocked.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it would only have been for five minutes. Zoe!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just put yourself in my place. A detective, who ought to have written to
+      me in reply to my note, surprises me with a call. I was ashamed that such
+      a visitor should enter your brother's house to see me. There sat my rival&mdash;an
+      aristocrat. I was surprised into disowning the unwelcomed visitor, and
+      calling him my solicitor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now if Zoe had been an Old Bailey counsel, she would have kept him to the
+      point, reminded him that his visitor was unseen, and fixed a voluntary
+      falsehood on him; but she was not an experienced cross-examiner, and
+      perhaps she was at heart as indignant at the detective as at the
+      falsehood: so she missed her advantage, and said, indignantly, &ldquo;And what
+      business had you with a detective? You having one at all, and then calling
+      him your solicitor, makes one think all manner of things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should have told you all about it that afternoon, only our intercourse
+      is broken off to please a rival. Suppose I gave you a rival, and used you
+      for her sake as you use me for his, what would you say? That would be a
+      worse infidelity than sending for a detective, would it not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe replied, haughtily, &ldquo;You have no right to say you have a rival; how
+      dare you? Besides,&rdquo; said she, a little ruefully, &ldquo;it is you who are on
+      your defense, not me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;True; I forgot that. Recrimination is not convenient, is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can escape it by shutting the window,&rdquo; said Zoe, coldly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't do that. Let me have the bliss of seeing you, and I will submit
+      to a good deal of injustice without a murmur.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The detective?&rdquo; said Zoe, sternly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I sent for him, and gave him his instructions, and he is gone for me to
+      Homburg.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! I thought so. What for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About my money. To try and find out whether they mean to keep it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you really take it if they would give it you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I would.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet you know my mind about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know you forbade me to go for it in person: and I obeyed you, did I
+      not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, you did&mdash;at the time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do now. You object to my going in person to Homburg. You know I was
+      once acquainted with that lady, and you feel about her a little of what I
+      feel about Lord Uxmoor; about a tenth part of what I feel, I suppose, and
+      with not one-tenth so much reason. Well, I know what the pangs of jealousy
+      are: I will never inflict them on you, as you have on me. But I <i>will</i>
+      have my money, whether you like or not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe looked amazed at being defied. It was new to her. She drew up, but
+      said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne went on: &ldquo;And I will tell you why: because without money I cannot
+      have you. My circumstances have lately improved; with my money that lies
+      in Homburg I can now clear my family estate of all incumbrance, and come
+      to your brother for your hand. Oh, I shall be a very bad match even then,
+      but I shall not be a pauper, nor a man in debt. I shall be one of your own
+      class, as I was born&mdash;a small landed gentleman with an unencumbered
+      estate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is not the way to my affection. I do not care for money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But other people do. Dear Zoe, you have plenty of pride yourself; you
+      must let me have a little. Deeply as I love you, I could not come to your
+      brother and say, 'Give me your sister, and maintain us both.' No, Zoe, I
+      cannot ask your hand till I have cleared my estate; and I cannot clear it
+      without that money. For once I must resist you, and take my chance. There
+      is wealth and a title offered you. I won't ask you to dismiss them and
+      take a pauper. If you don't like me to try for my own money, give your
+      hand to Lord Uxmoor; then I shall recall my detective, and let all go; for
+      poverty or wealth will matter nothing to me: I shall have lost the angel I
+      love: and she once loved me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He faltered, and the sad cadence of his voice melted her. She began to
+      cry. He turned his head away and cried too.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a silence. Zoe broke it first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Edward,&rdquo; said she, softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zoe!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You need not defy me. I would not humiliate you for all the world. Will
+      it comfort you to know that I have been very unhappy ever since you
+      lowered yourself so? I will try and accept your explanation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He clasped his hands with gratitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Edward, will you grant me a favor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you ask?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is to have a little more confidence in one who&mdash;Now you must obey
+      me implicitly, and perhaps we may both be happier to-morrow night than we
+      are to-night. Directly after breakfast take your hat and walk to
+      Hillstoke. You can call on Miss Gale, if you like, and say something
+      civil.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! go and leave you alone with Lord Uxmoor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, Zoe, you know your power. Have a little mercy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps I may have a great deal&mdash;if you obey me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I <i>will</i> obey you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then go to bed this minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She gave him a heavenly smile, and closed the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, Ned Severne said, &ldquo;Any
+      messages for Hillstoke? I am going to walk up there this morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Embrace my virago for me,&rdquo; said Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne begged to be excused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He hurried off, and Lord Uxmoor felt a certain relief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Master of Arts asked himself what he could do to propitiate the female
+      M. D. He went to the gardener and got him to cut a huge bouquet, choice
+      and fragrant, and he carried it all the way to Hillstoke. Miss Gale was at
+      home. As he was introduced rather suddenly, she started and changed color,
+      and said, sharply, &ldquo;What do you want?&rdquo; Never asked him to sit down, rude
+      Thing!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stood hanging his head like a culprit, and said, with well-feigned
+      timidity, that he came, by desire of Miss Vizard, to inquire how she was
+      getting on, and to hope the people were beginning to appreciate her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! that alters the case; any messenger from Miss Vizard is welcome. Did
+      she send me those flowers, too? They are beautiful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I gathered them myself. I have always understood ladies loved
+      flowers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is only by report you know that, eh? Let me add something to your
+      information: a good deal depends on the giver; and you may fling these out
+      of the window.&rdquo; She tossed them to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Master of Arts gave a humble, patient sigh, and threw the flowers out
+      of the window, which was open. He then sunk into a chair and hid his face
+      in his hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale colored, and bit her lip. She did not think he would have done
+      that, and it vexed her economical soul. She cast a piercing glance at him,
+      then resumed her studies, and ignored his presence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But his patience exhausted hers. He sat there twenty minutes, at least, in
+      a state of collapse that bid fair to last forever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So presently she looked up and affected to start. &ldquo;What! are you there
+      still?&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said be; &ldquo;you did not dismiss me; only my poor flowers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said she, apologetically, &ldquo;the truth is, I'm not strong enough to
+      dismiss you by the same road.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not necessary. You have only to say, 'Go.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that would be rude. Could not you go without being told right out?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I could not. Miss Gale, I can't account for it, but there is some
+      strange attraction. You hate me, and I fear you, yet I could follow you
+      about like a dog. Let me sit here a little longer and see you work.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale leaned her head upon her hand, and contemplated him at great
+      length. Finally she adopted a cat-like course. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said she, at last; &ldquo;I
+      am going my rounds: you can come with me, if I am so attractive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He said he should be proud, and she put on her hat in thirty seconds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They walked together in silence. He felt as if he were promenading a tiger
+      cat, that might stop any moment to fall upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She walked him into a cottage: there was a little dead wood burning on
+      that portion of the brick floor called the hearth. A pale old man sat
+      close to the fire, in a wooden armchair. She felt his pulse, and wrote him
+      a prescription.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To Mr. Vizard's housekeeper, Vizard Court:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please give the bearer two pounds of good roast beef or mutton, not
+      salted, and one pint port wine,
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;RHODA GALE, M. D.&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here, Jenny,&rdquo; she said to a sharp little girl, the man's grandniece,
+      &ldquo;take this down to Vizard Court, and if the housekeeper objects, go to the
+      front-door and demand in my name to see the squire or Miss Vizard, and
+      give <i>them</i> the paper. Don't you give it up without the meat. Take
+      this basket on your arm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she walked out of the cottage, and Severne followed her: he ventured
+      to say that was a novel prescription.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She explained. &ldquo;Physicians are obliged to send the rich to the chemist, or
+      else the fools would think they were slighted. But we need not be so nice
+      with the poor; we can prescribe to do them good. When you inflicted your
+      company on me, I was sketching out a treatise, to be entitled, 'Cure of
+      Disorders by Esculents.' That old man is nearly exsanguis. There is not a
+      drug in creation that could do him an atom of good. Nourishing food may.
+      If not, why, he is booked for the long journey. Well, he has had his
+      innings. He is fourscore. Do you think <i>you</i> will ever see fourscore&mdash;you
+      and your vices?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no. But I think <i>you</i> will; and I hope so; for you go about
+      doing good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And some people one could name go about doing mischief?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne made no reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon after they discovered a little group, principally women and children.
+      These were inspecting something on the ground, and chattering excitedly.
+      The words of dire import, &ldquo;She have possessed him with a devil,&rdquo; struck
+      their ear. But soon they caught sight of Miss Gale, and were dead silent.
+      She said, &ldquo;What is the matter? Oh, I see, the vermifuge has acted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was so: a putty-faced boy had been unable to eat his breakfast; had
+      suffered malaise for hours afterward, and at last had been seized with a
+      sort of dry retching, and had restored to the world they so adorn a number
+      of amphibia, which now wriggled in a heap, and no doubt bitterly regretted
+      the reckless impatience with which they had fled from an unpleasant
+      medicine to a cold-hearted world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, good people,&rdquo; said Miss Gale, &ldquo;what are you making a fuss about?
+      Are they better in the boy or out of him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The women could not find their candor at a moment's notice, but old Giles
+      replied heartily, &ldquo;Why, hout! better an empty house than a bad tenant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true,&rdquo; said half a dozen voices at once. They could resist common
+      sense in its liquid form, but not when solidified into a proverb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Catch me the boy,&rdquo; said Miss Gale, severely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Habitual culpability destroys self-confidence; so the boy suspected
+      himself of crime, and instantly took to flight. His companions loved
+      hunting; so three swifter boys followed him with a cheerful yell, secured
+      him, and brought him up for sentence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be frightened, Jacob,&rdquo; said the doctress. &ldquo;I only want to know
+      whether you feel better or worse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His mother put in her word: &ldquo;He was ever so bad all the morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hold your jaw,&rdquo; said old Giles, &ldquo;and let the boy tell his own tale.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then,&rdquo; said Jacob, &ldquo;I was mortal bad, but now do I feel like a
+      feather; wust on't is, I be so blessed hungry now. Dall'd if I couldn't
+      eat the devil&mdash;stuffed with thunder and lightning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll prescribe accordingly,&rdquo; said Miss Gale, and wrote in pencil an order
+      on a beefsteak pie they had sent her from the Court.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The boy's companions put their heads together over this order, and offered
+      their services to escort him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, thank you,&rdquo; said the doctress. &ldquo;He will go alone, you young monkeys.
+      Your turn will come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she proceeded on her rounds, with Mr. Severne at her heels, until it
+      was past one o'clock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she turned round and faced him. &ldquo;We will part here,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;and I
+      will explain my conduct to you, as you seem in the dark. I have been
+      co-operating with Miss Vizard all this time. I reckon she sent you out of
+      the way to give Lord Uxmoor his opportunity, so I have detained you. While
+      you have been studying medicine, he has been popping the question, of
+      course. Good-by, Mr. Villain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her words went through the man like cold steel. It was one woman reading
+      another. He turned very white, and put his hand to his heart. But he
+      recovered himself, and said, &ldquo;If she prefers another to me, I must submit.
+      It is not my absence for a few hours that will make the difference. You
+      cannot make me regret the hours I have passed in your company. Good-by,&rdquo;
+       and he seemed to leave her very reluctantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One word,&rdquo; said she, softening a little. &ldquo;I'm not proof against your
+      charm. Unless I see Zoe Vizard in danger, you have nothing to fear from
+      me. But I love <i>her,</i> you understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He returned to her directly, and said, in most earnest, supplicating
+      tones, &ldquo;But will you ever forgive me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will try.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And so they parted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went home at a great rate; for Miss Gale's insinuations had raised some
+      fear in his breast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime this is what had really passed between Zoe and Lord Uxmoor.
+      Vizard went to his study, and Fanny retired at a signal from Zoe. She
+      rose, but did not go; she walked slowly toward the window; Uxmoor joined
+      her: for he saw he was to have his answer from her mouth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her bosom heaved a little, and her cheeks flushed. &ldquo;Lord Uxmoor,&rdquo; she
+      said, &ldquo;you have done me the greatest honor any man can pay a woman, and
+      from you it is indeed an honor. I could not write such an answer as I
+      could wish; and, besides, I wish to spare you all the mortification I
+      can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said Uxmoor, piteously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are worthy of any lady's love; but I have only my esteem to give you,
+      and that was given long ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Uxmoor, who had been gradually turning very white, faltered, &ldquo;I had my
+      fears. Good-by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She gave him her hand. He put it respectfully to his lips: then turned and
+      left her, sick at heart, but too brave to let it be seen. He preferred her
+      esteem to her pity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By this means he got both. She put her handkerchief to her eyes without
+      disguise. But he only turned at the door to say, in a pretty firm voice,
+      &ldquo;God bless you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In less than an hour he drove his team from the door, sitting heartbroken
+      and desolate, but firm and unflinching as a rock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So then, on his return from Hillstoke, Severne found them all at luncheon
+      except Uxmoor. He detailed his visit to Miss Gale, and, while he talked,
+      observed. Zoe was beaming with love and kindness. He felt sure she had not
+      deceived him. He learned, by merely listening, that Lord Uxmoor was gone,
+      and he exulted inwardly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After luncheon, Elysium. He walked with the two girls, and Fanny lagged
+      behind; and Zoe proved herself no coquette. A coquette would have been a
+      little cross and shown him she had made a sacrifice. Not so Zoe Vizard.
+      She never told him, nor even Fanny, she had refused Lord Uxmoor. She
+      esteemed the great sacrifice she had made for him as a little one, and so
+      loved him a little more that he had cost her an earl's coronet and a large
+      fortune.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The party resumed their habits that Uxmoor had interrupted, and no warning
+      voice was raised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The boring commenced at Hillstoke, and Doctress Gale hovered over the
+      work. The various strata and their fossil deposits were an endless study,
+      and kept her microscope employed. With this, and her treatise on &ldquo;Cure by
+      Esculents&rdquo; she was so employed that she did not visit the Court for some
+      days: then came an invitation from Lord Uxmoor to stay a week with him,
+      and inspect his village. She accepted it, and drove herself in the
+      bailiff's gig, all alone. She found her host attending to his duties, but
+      dejected; so then she suspected, and turned the conversation to Zoe
+      Vizard, and soon satisfied herself he had no hopes in that quarter. Yet he
+      spoke of her with undisguised and tender admiration. Then she said to
+      herself, &ldquo;This is a man, and he shall have her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She sat down and wrote a letter to Vizard, telling him all she knew, and
+      what she thought, viz., that another woman, and a respectable one, had a
+      claim on Mr. Severne, which ought to be closely inquired into, and <i>the
+      lady's version heard.</i> &ldquo;Think of it,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;He disowned the woman
+      who had saved his life, he was so afraid I should tell Miss Vizard under
+      what circumstances I first saw him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She folded and addressed the letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But having relieved her mind in some degree by this, she asked herself
+      whether it would not be kinder to all parties to try and save Zoe without
+      an exposure. Probably Severne benefited by his grace and his disarming
+      qualities; for her ultimate resolution was to give him a chance, offer him
+      an alternative: he must either quietly retire, or be openly exposed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So then she put the letter in her desk, made out her visit, of which no
+      further particulars can be given at present, returned home, and walked
+      down to the Court next morning to have it out with Edward Severne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, unfortunately, from the very day she offered him terms up at
+      Hillstoke, the tide began to run in Severne's favor with great rapidity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A letter came from the detective. Severne received it at breakfast, and
+      laid it before Zoe, which had a favorable effect on her mind to begin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Poikilus reported that the money was in good hands. He had seen the lady.
+      She made no secret of the thing&mdash;the sum was 4,900 pounds, and she
+      said half belonged to her and half to a gentleman. She did not know him,
+      but her agent, Ashmead, did. Poikilus added that he had asked her would
+      she honor that gentleman's draft? She had replied she should be afraid to
+      do that; but Mr. Ashmead should hand it to him on demand. Poikilus summed
+      up that the lady was evidently respectable, and the whole thing square.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne posted this letter to his cousin, under cover, to show him he was
+      really going to clear his estate, but begged him to return it immediately
+      and lend him 50 pounds. The accommodating cousin sent him 50 pounds, to
+      aid him in wooing his heiress. He bought her a hoop ring, apologized for
+      its small value, and expressed his regret that all he could offer her was
+      on as small a scale, except his love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She blushed, and smiled on him, like heaven opening. &ldquo;Small and great, I
+      take them,&rdquo; said she; and her lovely head rested on his shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were engaged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From that hour he could command a <i>te'te-'a-te'te</i> with her whenever
+      he chose, and his infernal passion began to suggest all manner of wild,
+      wicked and unreasonable hopes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime there was no stopping. He soon found he must speak seriously to
+      Vizard. He went into his study and began to open the subject. Vizard
+      stopped him. &ldquo;Fetch the other culprit,&rdquo; said he; and when Zoe came,
+      blushing, he said, &ldquo;Now I am going to make shorter work of this than you
+      have done. Zoe has ten thousand pounds. What have you got?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only a small estate, worth eight thousand pounds, that I hope to clear of
+      all incumbrances, if I can get my money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fond of each other? Well, don't strike me dead with your eyes. I have
+      watched you, and I own a prettier pair of turtledoves I never saw. Well,
+      you have got love and I have got money. I'll take care of you both. But
+      you must live with me. I promise never to marry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This brought Zoe round his neck, with tears and kisses of pure affection.
+      He returned them, and parted her hair paternally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is a beautiful world, isn't it?&rdquo; said he, with more tenderness than
+      cynicism this time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that it is!&rdquo; cried Zoe, earnestly. &ldquo;But I can't have you say you will
+      never be as happy as I am. There are true hearts in this heavenly world;
+      for I have found one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not, and don't mean to try again. I am going in for the paternal
+      now. You two are my children. I have a talisman to keep me from marrying.
+      I'll show it you.&rdquo; He drew a photograph from his drawer, set round with
+      gold and pearls. He showed it them suddenly. They both started. A fine
+      photograph of Ina Klosking. She was dressed as plainly as at the
+      gambling-table, but without a bonnet, and only one rose in her hair. Her
+      noble forehead was shown, and her face, a model of intelligence,
+      womanliness, and serene dignity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He gazed at it, and they at him and it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He kissed it. &ldquo;Here is my Fate,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Now mark the ingenuity of a
+      parent. I keep out of my Fate's way. But I use her to keep off any other
+      little Fates that may be about. No other humbug can ever catch me while I
+      have such a noble humbug as this to contemplate. Ah! and here she is as
+      Siebel. What a goddess! Just look at her. Adorable! There, this shall
+      stand upon my table, and the other shall be hung in my bedroom. Then, my
+      dear Zoe, you will be safe from a stepmother. For I am your father now.
+      Please understand that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This brought poor Zoe round his neck again with such an effusion that at
+      last he handed her to Severne, and he led her from the room, quite
+      overcome, and, to avoid all conversation about what had just passed, gave
+      her over to Fanny, while he retired to compose himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By dinner-time he was as happy as a prince again and relieved of all
+      compunction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He heard afterward from Fanny that Zoe and she had discussed the incident
+      and Vizard's infatuation, Fanny being specially wroth at Vizard's abuse of
+      pearls; but she told him she had advised Zoe not to mention that lady's
+      name, but let her die out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And, in point of fact, Zoe did avoid the subject.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There came an eventful day. Vizard got a letter, at breakfast, from his
+      bankers, that made him stare, and then knit his brows. It was about Edward
+      Severne' s acceptances. He said nothing, but ordered his horse and rode
+      into Taddington.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The day was keen but sunny, and, seeing him afoot so early, Zoe said she
+      should like a drive before luncheon. She would show Severne and Fanny some
+      ruins on Pagnell Hill. They could leave the trap at the village inn and
+      walk up the hill. Fanny begged off, and Severne was very glad. The
+      prospect of a long walk up a hill with Zoe, and then a day spent in utter
+      seclusion with her, fired his imagination and made his heart beat. Here
+      was one of the opportunities he had long sighed for of making passionate
+      love to innocence and inexperience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe herself was eager for the drive, and came down, followed by Rosa with
+      some wraps, and waited in the morning-room for the dog-cart. It was behind
+      time for once, because the careful coachman had insisted on the axle being
+      oiled. At last the sound of wheels was heard. A carriage drew up at the
+      door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell Mr. Severne,&rdquo; said Zoe. &ldquo;He is in the dining-room, I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But it was not the dog-cart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A vigilant footman came hastily out and opened the hall door. A lady was
+      on the steps, and spoke to him, but, in speaking, she caught sight of Zoe
+      in the hall. She instantly slipped pass the man and stood within the great
+      door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Vizard?&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe took a step toward her and said, with astonishment, &ldquo;Mademoiselle
+      Klosking!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The ladies looked at each other, and Zoe saw something strange was coming;
+      for the Klosking was very pale, yet firm, and fixed her eyes upon her as
+      if there was nothing else in sight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have a visitor&mdash;Mr. Severne?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Zoe, drawing up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can I speak with him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He will answer for himself. EDWARD!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At her call Severne came out hastily behind Ina Klosking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned, and they faced each other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; she cried; and in spite of all, there was more of joy than any other
+      passion in the exclamation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not so he. He uttered a scream of dismay, and staggered, white as a ghost,
+      but still glared at Ina Klosking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe's voice fell on him like a clap of thunder: &ldquo;What!&mdash;Edward!&mdash;Mr.
+      Severne!&mdash;Has this lady still any right&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, none whatever!&rdquo; he cried; &ldquo;it is all past and gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is past?&rdquo; said Ina Klosking, grandly. &ldquo;Are you out of your senses?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she was close to him in a moment, by one grand movement, and took him
+      by both lapels of his coat, and held him firmly. &ldquo;Speak before this lady,&rdquo;
+       she cried. &ldquo;Have&mdash;I&mdash;no&mdash;rights&mdash;over you?&rdquo; and her
+      voice was majestic, and her Danish eyes gleamed lightning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The wretch's knees gave way a moment and he shook in her hands. Then,
+      suddenly, he turned wild. &ldquo;Fiend! you have ruined me!&rdquo; he yelled; and
+      then, with his natural strength, which was great, and the superhuman power
+      of mad excitement, he whirled her right round and flung her from him, and
+      dashed out of the door, uttering cries of rage and despair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The unfortunate lady, thus taken by surprise, fell heavily, and, by cruel
+      ill luck, struck her temple, in falling, against the sharp corner of a
+      marble table. It gashed her forehead fearfully, and she lay senseless,
+      with the blood spurting in jets from her white temple.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe screamed violently, and the hall and the hall staircase seemed to fill
+      by magic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the terror and confusion, Harrington Vizard strode into the hall, from
+      Taddington. &ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;A woman killed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Some one cried out she had fallen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Water, fools&mdash;a sponge&mdash;don't stand gaping!&rdquo; and he flung
+      himself on his knees, and raised the woman's head from the floor. One
+      eager look into her white face&mdash;one wild cry&mdash;&ldquo;Great God! it is&mdash;&rdquo;
+       He had recognized her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XX.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      IT was piteous to see and hear. The blood would not stop; it spurted no
+      longer, but it flowed alarmingly. Vizard sent Harris off in his own fly
+      for a doctor, to save time. He called for ice. He cried out in agony to
+      his servants, &ldquo;Can none of you think of anything? There&mdash;that hat.
+      Here, you women; tear me the nap off with your fingers. My God! what is to
+      be done? She'll bleed to death!&rdquo; And he held her to his breast, and almost
+      moaned with pity over her, as he pressed the cold sponge to her wound&mdash;in
+      vain; for still the red blood would flow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Wheels ground the gravel. Servants flew to the door, crying, &ldquo;The doctor!
+      the doctor!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As if he could have been fetched in five minutes from three miles off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet it was a doctor. Harris had met Miss Gale walking quietly down from
+      Hillstoke. He had told her in a few hurried words, and brought her as fast
+      as the horses could go.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She glided in swiftly, keen, but self-possessed, and took it all in
+      directly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard saw her, and cried, &ldquo;Ah! Help!&mdash;she is bleeding to death!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She shall not,&rdquo; said Rhoda. Then to one footman, &ldquo;Bring a footstool, <i>you;&rdquo;</i>
+      to another, <i>&ldquo;You</i> bring me a cork;&rdquo; to Vizard, <i>&ldquo;You</i> hold her
+      toward me so. Now sponge the wound.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This done, she pinched the lips of the wound together with her neat,
+      strong fingers. &ldquo;See what I do,&rdquo; she said to Vizard. &ldquo;You will have to do
+      it, while I&mdash;Ah, the stool! Now lay her head on that; the other side,
+      man. Now, sir, compress the wound as I did, vigorously. Hold the cork, <i>you,</i>
+      till I want it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She took out of her pocket some adhesive plaster, and flakes of some
+      strong styptic, and a piece of elastic. &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said she to Vizard, &ldquo;give
+      me a little opening in the middle to plaster these strips across the
+      wound.&rdquo; He did so. Then in a moment she passed the elastic under the
+      sufferer's head, drew it over with the styptic between her finger and
+      thumb, and crack! the styptic was tight on the compressed wound. She
+      forced in more styptic, increasing the pressure, then she whipped out a
+      sort of surgical housewife, and with some cutting instrument reduced the
+      cork, then cut it convex, and fastened it on the styptic by another
+      elastic. There was no flutter, yet it was all done in fifty seconds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;she will bleed no more, to speak of. Now seat her
+      upright. Why! I have seen her before. This is&mdash;sir, you can send the
+      men away.&rdquo;'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; and, Harris, pack up Mr. Severne's things, and bring them down here
+      this moment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The male servants retired, the women held aloof. Fanny Dover came forward,
+      pale and trembling, and helped to place Ina Klosking in the hall porter's
+      chair. She was insensible still, but moaned faintly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her moans were echoed: all eyes turned. It was Zoe, seated apart, all
+      bowed and broken&mdash;ghastly pale, and glaring straight before her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor girl!&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;We forgot her. It is her heart that bleeds.
+      Where is the scoundrel, that I may kill him?&rdquo; and he rushed out at the
+      door to look for him. The man's life would not have been worth much if
+      Squire Vizard could have found him then.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But he soon came back to his wretched home, and eyed the dismal scene, and
+      the havoc one man had made&mdash;the marble floor all stained with blood&mdash;Ina
+      Klosking supported in a chair, white, and faintly moaning&mdash;Zoe still
+      crushed and glaring at vacancy, and Fanny sobbing round her with pity and
+      terror; for she knew there must be worse to come than this wild stupor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take her to her room, Fanny dear,&rdquo; said Vizard, in a hurried, faltering
+      voice, &ldquo;and don't leave her. Rosa, help Miss Dover. Do not leave her
+      alone, night nor day.&rdquo; Then to Miss Gale, &ldquo;She will live? Tell me she will
+      live.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope so,&rdquo; said Rhoda Gale. &ldquo;Oh, the blow will not kill her, nor yet the
+      loss of blood. But I fear there will be distress of mind added to the
+      bodily shock. And such a noble face! My own heart bleeds for her. Oh, sir,
+      do not send her away to strangers! Let me take her up to the farm. It is
+      nursing she will need, and tact, when she comes to herself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Send here away to strangers!&rdquo; cried Vizard. &ldquo;Never! No. Not even to the
+      farm. Here she received her wound; here all that you and I can do shall be
+      done to save her. Ah, here's Harris, with the villain's things. Get the
+      lady's boxes out, and put Mr. Severne's into the fly. Give the man two
+      guineas, and let him leave them at the 'Swan,' in Taddington.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He then beckoned down the women, and had Ina Klosking carried upstairs to
+      the very room Severne had occupied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He then convened the servants, and placed them formally under Miss Gale's
+      orders, and one female servant having made a remark, he turned her out of
+      the house, neck and crop, directly with her month's wages. The others had
+      to help her pack, only half an hour being allowed for her exit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The house seemed all changed. Could this be Vizard Court? Dead gloom&mdash;hurried
+      whispers&mdash;and everybody walking softly, and scared&mdash;none knowing
+      what might be the next calamity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard felt sick at heart and helpless. He had done all he could, and was
+      reduced to that condition women bear far better than men&mdash;he must
+      wait, and hope, and fear. He walked up and down the carpeted landing,
+      racked with anxiety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last there came a single scream of agony from Ina Klosking's room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It made the strong man quake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He tapped softly at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhoda opened it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; he faltered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She replied, gravely, &ldquo;Only what must be. She is beginning to realize what
+      has befallen her. Don't come here. You can do no good. I will run down to
+      you whenever I dare. Give me a nurse to help, this first night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went down and sent into the village for a woman who bore a great name
+      for nursing. Then he wandered about disconsolate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The leaden hours passed. He went to dress, and discovered Ina Klosking's
+      blood upon his clothes. It shocked him first, and then it melted him: he
+      felt an inexpressible tenderness at sight of it. The blood that had flowed
+      in her veins seemed sacred to him. He folded that suit, and tied it up in
+      a silk handkerchief, and locked it away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In due course he sat down to dinner&mdash;we are all such creatures of
+      habit. There was everything as usual, except the familiar faces. There was
+      the glittering plate on the polished sideboard, the pyramid of flowers
+      surrounded with fruits. There were even chairs at the table, for the
+      servants did not know he was to be quite alone. But he was. One delicate
+      dish after another was brought him, and sent away untasted. Soon after
+      dinner Rhoda Gale came down and told him her patient was in a precarious
+      condition, and she feared fever and delirium. She begged him to send one
+      servant up to the farm for certain medicaments she had there, and another
+      to the chemist at Taddington. These were dispatched on swift horses, and
+      both were back in half an hour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By-and-by Fanny Dover came down to him, with red eyes, and brought him
+      Zoe's love. &ldquo;But,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;don't ask her to come down. She is ashamed
+      to look anybody in the face, poor girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why? what has <i>she</i> done?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Harrington, she has made no secret of her affection; and now, at
+      sight of that woman, he has abandoned her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell her I love her more than I ever did, and respect her more. Where is
+      her pride?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pride! she is full of it; and it will help her&mdash;by-and-by. But she
+      has a bitter time to go through first. You don't know how she loves him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! love him still, after what he has done?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes! She interprets it this way and that. She cannot bear to believe
+      another woman has any real right to separate them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Separate them! The scoundrel knocked <i>her</i> down for loving him
+      still, and fled from them both. Was ever guilt more clear? If she doubts
+      that he is a villain, tell her from me he is a forger, and has given me
+      bills with false names on them. The bankers gave me notice to-day, and I
+      was coming home to order him out of the house when this miserable business
+      happened.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A forger! is it possible?&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;But it is no use my telling her
+      that sort of thing. If he had committed murder, and was true to her, she
+      would cling to him. She never knew till now how she loved him, nor I
+      neither. She put him in Coventry for telling a lie; but she was far more
+      unhappy all the time than he was. There is nothing to do but to be kind to
+      her, and let her hide her face. Don't hurry her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not I. God help her! If she has a wish, it shall be gratified. I am
+      powerless. She is young. Surely time will cure her of a villain, now he is
+      detected.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny said she hoped so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The truth is, Zoe had not opened her heart to Fanny. She clung to her, and
+      writhed in her arms; but she spoke little, and one broken sentence
+      contradicted the other. But mental agony, like bodily, finds its vent, not
+      in speech, the brain's great interpreter, but in inarticulate cries, and
+      moans, and sighs, that prove us animals even in the throes of mind. Zoe
+      was in that cruel stage of suffering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So passed that miserable day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXI.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      INA KLOSKING recovered her senses that evening, and asked Miss Gale where
+      she was. Miss Gale told her she was in the house of a friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What friend?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That,&rdquo; said Miss Gale, &ldquo;I will tell you by-and-by. You are in good hands,
+      and I am your physician.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have heard your voice before,&rdquo; said Ina, &ldquo;but I know not where; and it
+      is so dark! Why is it so dark?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because too much light is not good for you. You have met with an
+      accident.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What accident, madam?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You fell and hurt your poor forehead. See, I have bandaged it, and now
+      you must let me wet the bandage&mdash;to keep your brow cool.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, madam,&rdquo; said Ina, in her own sweet but queenly way. &ldquo;You are
+      very good to me. I wish I could see your face more clearly. I know your
+      voice.&rdquo; Then, after a silence, during which Miss Gale eyed her with
+      anxiety, she said, like one groping her way to the truth, &ldquo;I&mdash;fell&mdash;and&mdash;hurt&mdash;my
+      forehead?&mdash;<i>Ah!&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then it was she uttered the cry that made Vizard quake at the door, and
+      shook for a moment even Rhoda's nerves, though, as a rule, they were iron
+      in a situation of this kind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It had all come back to Ina Klosking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After that piteous cry she never said a word. She did nothing but think,
+      and put her hand to her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And soon after midnight she began to talk incoherently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The physician could only proceed by physical means. She attacked the
+      coming fever at once, with the remedies of the day, and also with an
+      infusion of monk's-hood. That poison, promptly administered, did not
+      deceive her. She obtained a slight perspiration, which was so much gained
+      in the battle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the morning she got the patient shifted into another bed, and she slept
+      a little after that. But soon she was awake, restless, and raving: still
+      her character pervaded her delirium. No violence. Nothing any sore injured
+      woman need be ashamed to have said: only it was all disconnected. One
+      moment she was speaking to the leader of the orchestra, at another to Mr.
+      Ashmead, at another, with divine tenderness, to her still faithful
+      Severne. And though not hurried, as usual in these cases, it was almost
+      incessant and pitiable to hear, each observation was so wise and good;
+      yet, all being disconnected, the hearer could not but feel that a noble
+      mind lay before him, overthrown and broken into fragments like some Attic
+      column.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the middle of this the handle was softly turned, and Zoe Vizard came
+      in, pale and somber.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Long before this she had said to Fanny several times, &ldquo;I ought to go and
+      see her;&rdquo; and Fanny had said, &ldquo;Of course you ought.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So now she came. She folded her arms and stood at the foot of the bed, and
+      looked at her unhappy rival, unhappy as possible herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What contrary feelings fought in that young breast! Pity and hatred. She
+      must hate the rival who had come between her and him she loved; she must
+      pity the woman who lay there, pale, wounded, and little likely to recover.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And, with all this, a great desire to know whether this sufferer had any
+      right to come and seize Edward Severne by the arm, and so draw down
+      calamity on both the women who loved him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked and listened, and Rhoda Gale thought it hard upon her patient.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But it was not in human nature the girl should do otherwise; so Rhoda said
+      nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What fell from Ina's lips was not of a kind to make Zoe more her friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her mind seemed now like a bird tied by a long silken thread. It made
+      large excursions, but constantly came back to her love. Sometimes that
+      love was happy, sometimes unhappy. Often she said &ldquo;Edward!&rdquo; in the
+      exquisite tone of a loving woman; and whenever she did, Zoe received it
+      with a sort of shiver, as if a dagger, fine as a needle, had passed
+      through her whole body.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, after telling some tenor that he had sung F natural instead of F
+      sharp, and praised somebody's rendering of a song in &ldquo;Il Flauto Magico,&rdquo;
+       and told Ashmead to make no more engagements for her at present, for she
+      was going to Vizard Court, the poor soul paused a minute, and uttered a
+      deep moan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;Struck down by the very hand that was vowed to protect me!&rdquo;</i> said
+      she. Then was silent again. Then began to cry, and sob, and wring her
+      hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe put her hand to her heart and moved feebly toward the door. However,
+      she stopped a moment to say, &ldquo;I am no use here. You would soon have me
+      raving in the next bed. I will send Fanny.&rdquo; Then she drew herself up.
+      &ldquo;Miss Gale, everybody here is at your command. Pray spare nothing you can
+      think of to save&mdash;<i>my brother's guest.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There came out the bitter drop.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she had said that, she stalked from the room like some red Indian
+      bearing a mortal arrow in him, but too proud to show it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But when she got to her own room she flung herself on her sofa, and
+      writhed and sobbed in agony.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny Dover came in and found her so, and flew to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But she ordered her out quite wildly. &ldquo;No, no; go to <i>her,</i> like all
+      the rest, and leave poor Zoe all alone. She <i>is</i> alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Fanny clung to her, and tried hard to comfort her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This young lady now became very zealous and active. She divided her time
+      between the two sufferers, and was indefatigable in their service. When
+      she was not supporting Zoe, she was always at Miss Gale's elbow offering
+      her services. &ldquo;Do let me help you,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Do pray let me help. We are
+      poor at home, and there is nothing I cannot do. I'm worth any three
+      servants.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She always helped shift the patient into a fresh bed, and that was done
+      very often. She would run to the cook or the butler for anything that was
+      wanted in a hurry. She flung gentility and humbug to the winds. Then she
+      dressed in ten minutes, and went and dined with Vizard, and made excuses
+      for Zoe's absence, to keep everything smooth; and finally she insisted on
+      sitting up with Ina Klosking till three in the morning, and made Miss Gale
+      go to bed in the room. &ldquo;Paid nurses!&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;they are no use except to
+      snore and drink the patient's wine. You and I will watch her every moment
+      of the night; and if I'm ever at a loss what to do, I will call you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale stared at her once, and then accepted this new phase of her
+      character.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The fever was hot while it lasted; but it was so encountered with tonics,
+      and port wine, and strong beef soup (not your rubbishy beef tea), that in
+      forty-eight hours it began to abate. Ina recognized Rhoda Gale as the lady
+      who had saved Severne's life at Montpellier, and wept long and silently
+      upon her neck. In due course, Zoe, hearing there was a great change, came
+      in again to look at her. She stood and eyed her. Soon Ina Klosking caught
+      sight of her, and stared at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You here!&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;Ah! you are Miss Vizard. I am in your house. I will
+      get up and leave it;&rdquo; and she made a feeble attempt to rise, but fell
+      back, and the tears welled out of her eyes at her helplessness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe was indignant, but for the moment more shocked than anything else. She
+      moved away a little, and did not know what to say.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me look at you,&rdquo; said the patient. &ldquo;Ah! you are beautiful. When I saw
+      you at the theater, you fascinated me. How much more a man? I will resist
+      no more. You are too beautiful to be resisted. Take him, and let me die.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do her no good,&rdquo; said Zoe, half sullenly, half trembling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed you do not,&rdquo; said Rhoda, bluntly, and almost bitterly. She was all
+      nurse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll come here no more,&rdquo; said Zoe, sadly but sternly, and left the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Ina turned to Miss Gale and said, patiently, &ldquo;I hope I was not rude
+      to that lady&mdash;who has broken my heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny and Rhoda took each a hand and told her she could not be rude to
+      anybody.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My friends,&rdquo; said Ina, looking piteously to each in turn, &ldquo;it is her
+      house, you know, and she is very good to me now&mdash;after breaking my
+      heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Fanny showed a deal of tact. <i>&ldquo;Her</i> house!&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;It is no
+      more hers than mine. Why, this house belongs to a gentleman, and he is mad
+      after music. He knows you very well, though you don't know him, and he
+      thinks you the first singer in Europe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You flatter me,&rdquo; said Ina, sadly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, he thinks so; and he is reckoned a very good judge. Ah! now I think
+      of it, I will show you something, and then you will believe me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She ran off to the library, snatched up Ina's picture set round with
+      pearls, and came panting in with it. &ldquo;There,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;now you look at
+      that!&rdquo; and she put it before her eyes. &ldquo;Now, who is that, if you please?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! It is Ina Klosking that was. Please bring me a glass.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two ladies looked at each other. Miss Gale made a negative signal, and
+      Fanny said, &ldquo;By-and-by. This will do instead, for it is as like as two
+      peas. Now ask yourself how this comes to be in the house, and set in
+      pearls. Why, they are worth three hundred pounds. I assure you that the
+      master of this house is <i>fanatico per la musica;</i> heard you sing
+      Siebel at Homburg&mdash;raved about you&mdash;wanted to call on you. We
+      had to drag him away from the place; and he declares you are the first
+      singer in the world; and you cannot doubt his sincerity, for <i>here are
+      the pearls.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina Klosking's pale cheek colored, and then she opened her two arms wide,
+      and put them round Fanny's neck and kissed her: her innocent vanity was
+      gratified, and her gracious nature suggested gratitude to her who had
+      brought her the compliment, instead of the usual ungrateful bumptiousness
+      praise elicits from vanity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Miss Gale put in her word&mdash;&ldquo;When you met with this unfortunate
+      accident, I was for taking you up to my house. It is three miles off; but
+      he would not hear of it. He said, 'No; here she got her wound, and here
+      she must be cured.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So,&rdquo; said Fanny, &ldquo;pray set your mind at ease. My cousin Harrington is a
+      very good soul, but rather arbitrary. If you want to leave this place, you
+      must get thoroughly well and strong, for he will never let you go till you
+      are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Between these two ladies, clever and cooperating, Ina smiled, and seemed
+      relieved; but she was too weak to converse any more just then.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Some hours afterward she beckoned Fanny to her, and said, &ldquo;The master of
+      the house&mdash;what is his name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harrington Vizard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&mdash;<i>her</i> father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La, no; only her half-brother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If he is so kind to me because I sing, why comes he not to see me? <i>She</i>
+      has come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny smiled. &ldquo;It is plain you are not an Englishwoman, though you speak
+      it so beautifully. An English gentleman does not intrude into a lady's
+      room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is his room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He would say that, while you occupy it, it is yours, and not his.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He awaits my invitation, then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dare say he would come if you were to invite him, but certainly not
+      without.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish to see him who has been so kind to me, and so loves music; but not
+      to-day&mdash;I feel unable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The next day she asked for a glass, and was distressed at her appearance.
+      She begged for a cap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What kind of a cap?&rdquo; asked Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One like that,&rdquo; said she, pointing to a portrait on the wall. It was of a
+      lady in a plain brown silk dress and a little white shawl, and a neat cap
+      with a narrow lace border all round her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This particular cap was out of date full sixty years; but the house had a
+      storeroom of relics, and Fanny, with Vizard's help, soon rummaged out a
+      cap of the sort, with a narrow frill all round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her hair was smoothed, a white silk band passed over the now closed wound,
+      and the cap fitted on her. She looked pale, but angelic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny went down to Vizard, and invited him to come and see Mademoiselle
+      Klosking&mdash;by her desire. &ldquo;But,&rdquo; she added, &ldquo;Miss Gale is very anxious
+      lest you should get talking of Severne. She says the fever and loss of
+      blood have weakened her terribly; and if we bring the fever on again, she
+      cannot answer for her life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has she spoken of him to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why should she to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because you are a man, and she may think to get the <i>truth</i> out of
+      you: she knows <i>we</i> shall only say what is for the best. She is very
+      deep, and we don't know her mind yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard said he would be as guarded as he could; but if they saw him going
+      wrong, they must send him away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Miss Gale will do that, you may be sure,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus prepared, Vizard followed Fanny up the stairs to the sick-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Either there is such a thing as love at first sight, or it is something
+      more than first sight, when an observant man gazes at a woman for an hour
+      in a blaze of light, and drinks in her looks, her walk, her voice, and all
+      the outward signs of a beautiful soul; for the stout cynic's heart beat at
+      entering that room as it had not beat for years. To be sure, he had not
+      only seen her on the stage in all her glory, but had held her, pale and
+      bleeding, to his manly breast, and his heart warmed to her all the more,
+      and, indeed, fairly melted with tenderness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny went in and announced him. He followed softly, and looked at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Wealth can make even a sick-room pretty. The Klosking lay on snowy pillows
+      whose glossy damask was edged with lace; and upon her form was an
+      eider-down quilt covered with violet-colored satin, and her face was set
+      in that sweet cap which hid her wound, and made her eloquent face less
+      ghastly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned to look at him, and he gazed at her in a way that spoke
+      volumes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A seat,&rdquo; said she, softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny was for putting one close to her. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Miss Gale, &ldquo;lower down;
+      then she need not to turn her head.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So he sat down nearer her feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My good host,&rdquo; said she, in her mellow voice, that retained its quality,
+      but not its power, &ldquo;I desire to thank you for your goodness to a poor
+      singer, struck down&mdash;by the hand that was bound to protect her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard faltered out that there was nothing to thank him for. He was proud
+      to have her under his roof, though deeply grieved at the cause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at him, and her two nurses looked at her and at each other, as
+      much as to say, &ldquo;She is going upon dangerous ground.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They were right. But she had not the courage, or, perhaps, as most women
+      are a little cat-like in this, that they go away once or twice from the
+      subject nearest their heart before they turn and pounce on it, she must
+      speak of other things first. Said she, &ldquo;But if I was unfortunate in that,
+      I was fortunate in this, that I fell into good hands. These ladies are
+      sisters to me,&rdquo; and she gave Miss Gale her hand, and kissed the other hand
+      to Fanny, though she could scarcely lift it; &ldquo;and I have a host who loves
+      music, and overrates my poor ability.&rdquo; Then, after a pause, &ldquo;What have you
+      heard me sing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Siebel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only Siebel! why, that is a poor little thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So <i>I</i> thought, till I heard you sing it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And, after Siebel, you bought my photograph.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Instantly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And wasted pearls on it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, madam. I wasted it on pearls.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I were well, I should call that extravagant. But it is permitted to
+      flatter the sick&mdash;it is kind. Me you overrate, I fear; but you do
+      well to honor music. Ay, I, who lie here wounded and broken-hearted, do
+      thank God for music. Our bodies are soon crushed, our loves decay or turn
+      to hate, but art is immortal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She could no longer roll this out in her grand contralto, but she could
+      still raise her eyes with enthusiasm, and her pale face was illuminated. A
+      grand soul shone through her, though she was pale, weak, and prostrate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They admired her in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a while she resumed, and said, &ldquo;If I live, I must live for my art
+      alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale saw her approaching a dangerous topic, so she said, hastily,
+      &ldquo;Don't say <i>if</i> you live, please, because that is arranged. You have
+      been out of danger this twenty-four hours, provided you do not relapse;
+      and I must take care of that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My kind friend,&rdquo; said Ina, &ldquo;I shall not relapse; only my weakness is
+      pitiable. Sometimes I can scarcely forbear crying, I feel so weak. When
+      shall I be stronger?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You shall be a little stronger every three days. There are always ups and
+      downs in convalescence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When shall I be strong enough to move?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me answer that question,&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;When you are strong enough to
+      sing us Siebel's great song.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There,&rdquo; said Fanny Dover; &ldquo;there is a mercenary host for you. He means to
+      have a song out of you. Till then you are his prisoner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, she is mine,&rdquo; said Miss Gale; &ldquo;and she shan't go till she has
+      sung me 'Hail, Columbia.' None of your Italian trash for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina smiled, and said it was a fair condition, provided that &ldquo;Hail,
+      Columbia,&rdquo; with which composition, unfortunately, she was unacquainted,
+      was not beyond her powers. &ldquo;I have often sung for money,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;but
+      this time&rdquo;&mdash;here she opened her grand arms and took Rhoda Gale to her
+      bosom&mdash;&ldquo;I shall sing for love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now we have settled that,&rdquo; said Vizard, &ldquo;my mind is more at ease, and I
+      will retire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One moment,&rdquo; said Ina, turning to him. Then, in a low and very meaning
+      voice, <i>&ldquo;There is something else.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt there is plenty,&rdquo; said Miss Gale, sharply; &ldquo;and, by my
+      authority, I postpone it all till you are stronger. Bid us good-by for the
+      present, Mr. Vizard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I obey,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;But, madam, please remember I am always at your
+      service. Send for me when you please, and the oftener the better for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, my kind host. Oblige me with your hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave her his hand. She took it, and put her lips to it with pure and
+      gentle and seemly gratitude, and with no loss of dignity, though the act
+      was humble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned his head away, to hide the emotion that act and the touch of her
+      sweet lips caused him; Miss Gale hurried him out of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You naughty patient,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;you must do nothing to excite yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sweet physician, loving nurse, I am not excited.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale felt her heart to see.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gratitude does not excite,&rdquo; said Ina. &ldquo;It is too tame a feeling in the
+      best of us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a fact,&rdquo; said Miss Gale; &ldquo;so let us all be grateful, and avoid
+      exciting topics. Think what I should feel if you had a relapse. Why, you
+      would break my heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Should I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I really think you would, tough as it is. One gets so fond of an
+      unselfish patient. You cannot think how rare they are, dear. You are a
+      pearl. I cannot afford to lose you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you shall not,&rdquo; said Ina, firmly. &ldquo;Know that I, who seem so weak, am
+      a woman of great resolution. I will follow good counsel; I will postpone
+      all dangerous topics till I am stronger; I will live. For I will not
+      grieve the true friends calamity has raised me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Of course Fanny told Zoe all about this interview. She listened gloomily;
+      and all she said was, &ldquo;Sisters do not go for much when a man is in love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do brothers, when a woman is?&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dare say they go for as much as they are worth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zoe, that is not fair. Harrington is full of affection for you. But you
+      will not go near him. Any other man would be very angry. Do pray make an
+      effort, and come down to dinner to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no. He has you and his Klosking. And I have my broken heart. I <i>am</i>
+      alone; and so will be all alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She cried and sobbed, but she was obstinate, and Fanny could only let her
+      have her own way in that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another question was soon disposed of. When Fanny invited her into the
+      sickroom, she said, haughtily, &ldquo;I go there no more. Cure her, and send her
+      away&mdash;if Harrington will let her go. I dare say she is to be pitied.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course she is. She is your fellow-victim, if you would only let
+      yourself see it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unfortunately, instead of pitying her, I hate her. She has destroyed my
+      happiness, and done herself no good. He does not love her, and never
+      will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny found herself getting angry, so she said no more; for she was
+      determined nothing should make her quarrel with poor Zoe; but after
+      dinner, being <i>te'te-'a-te'te</i> with Vizard, she told him she was
+      afraid Zoe could not see things as they were; and she asked him if he had
+      any idea what had become of Severne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fled the country, I suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you sure he is not lurking about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To get a word with Zoe&mdash;alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He will not come near this. I will break every bone in his skin if he
+      does.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he is so sly; he might hang about.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What for? She never goes out; and if she did, have you so poor an opinion
+      of her as to think she would speak to him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no! and she would forbid him to speak to her. But he would be sure to
+      persist; and he has such wonderful powers of explanation, and she is
+      blinded by love, I think he would make her believe black was white, if he
+      had a chance; and if he is about, he will get a chance some day. She is
+      doing the very worst thing she could&mdash;shutting herself up so. Any
+      moment she will turn wild, and rush out reckless. She is in a dangerous
+      state, you mark my words; she is broken-hearted, and yet she is bitter
+      against everybody, except that young villain, and he is the only enemy she
+      has in the world. I don't believe Mademoiselle Klosking ever wronged her,
+      nor ever will. Appearances are against her; but she is a good woman, or I
+      am a fool. Take my advice, Harrington, and be on your guard. If he had
+      written a penitent letter to Mademoiselle Klosking, that would be a
+      different thing; but he ignores her, and that frightens me for Zoe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Harrington would not admit that Zoe needed any other safeguard against a
+      detected scoundrel than her own sense of dignity. He consented, however,
+      to take precautions, if Fanny would solemnly promise not to tell Zoe, and
+      so wound her. On that condition, he would see his head-keeper tomorrow,
+      and all the keepers and watchers should be posted so as to encircle the
+      parish with vigilance. He assured Fanny these fellows had a whole system
+      of signals to the ear and eye, and Severne could not get within a mile of
+      the house undetected. &ldquo;But,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I will not trust to that alone. I
+      will send an advertisement to the local papers and the leading London
+      journals, so worded that the scoundrel shall know his forgery is detected,
+      and that he will be arrested on a magistrate's warrant if he sets foot in
+      Barfordshire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny said that was capital, and, altogether, he had set her mind at rest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then do as much for me,&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;Please explain a remarkable
+      phenomenon. You were always a bright girl, and no fool; but not exactly
+      what humdrum people would call a good girl. You are not offended?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The idea! Why, I have publicly disowned goodness again and again. You
+      have heard me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I have. But was not that rather deceitful of you? for you have turned
+      out as good as gold. Anxiety has kept me at home of late, and I have
+      watched you. You live for others; you are all over the house to serve two
+      suffering <i>women.</i> That is real charity, not sexual charity, which
+      humbugs the world, but not me. You are cook, housemaid, butler, nurse, and
+      friend to both of them. In an interval of your time, so creditably
+      employed, you come and cheer me up with your bright little face, and give
+      me wise advice. I know that women are all humbugs; only you are a humbug
+      reversed, and deserve a statue&mdash;and trimmings. You have been passing
+      yourself off for a naughty girl, and all the time you were an extra good
+      one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And that puzzles the woman-hater, the cynical student, who says he has
+      fathomed woman. My poor dear Harrington, if you cannot read so shallow a
+      character as I am, how will you get on with those ladies upstairs&mdash;Zoe,
+      who is as deep as the sea, and turbid with passion, and the Klosking, who
+      is as deep as the ocean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She thought a moment and said, &ldquo;There, I will have pity on you. You shall
+      understand one woman before you die, and that is me. I'll give you the
+      clew to my seeming inconsistencies&mdash;if <i>you</i> will give <i>me</i>
+      a cigarette.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! another hidden virtue? You smoke?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not I, except when I happen to be with a noble soul who won't tell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard found her a Russian cigarette, and lighted his own cigar, and she
+      lectured as follows:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What women love, and can't do without, if they are young and healthy and
+      spirited, is&mdash;Excitement. I am one who pines for it. Now, society is
+      so constructed that to get excitement you must be naughty. Waltzing all
+      night and flirting all day are excitement. Crochet, and church, and
+      examining girls in St. Matthew, and dining <i>en famille,</i> and going to
+      bed at ten, are stagnation. Good girls&mdash;that means stagnant girls: I
+      hate and despise the tame little wretches, and I never was one, and never
+      will be. But now look here: We have two ladies in love with one villain&mdash;that
+      is exciting. One gets nearly killed in the house&mdash;that is gloriously
+      exciting. The other is broken-hearted. If I were to be a bad girl, and
+      say, 'It is not my business; I will leave them to themselves, and go my
+      little mill-round of selfishness as before,' why, what a fool I must be! I
+      should lose Excitement. Instead of that, I run and get thinks for the
+      Klosking&mdash;Excitement. I cook for her, and nurse her, and sit up half
+      the night&mdash;Excitement. Then I run to Zoe, and do my best for her&mdash;and
+      get snubbed&mdash;Excitement. Then I sit at the head of your table, and
+      order you&mdash;Excitement. Oh, it is lovely!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall you not be sorry when they both get well, and Routine recommences?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I shall. That is the sort of good girl I am. And, oh! when that
+      fatal day comes, how I shall flirt. Heaven help my next flirtee! I shall
+      soon flirt out the stigma of a good girl. You mark my words, I shall flirt
+      with some <i>married man</i> after this. I never did that yet. But I
+      shall; I know I shall.&mdash;Ah!&mdash;there, I have burned my finger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind. That is exciting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As such I accept it. Good-by. I must go and relieve Miss Gale. Exit the
+      good girl on her mission of charity&mdash;ha! ha!&rdquo; She hummed a <i>valse
+      'a deux temps,</i> and went dancing out with such a whirl that her
+      petticoats, which were ample, and not, as now, like a sack tied at the
+      knees, made quite a cool air in the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had not been gone long when Miss Gale came down, full of her patient.
+      She wanted to get her out of bed during the daytime, but said she was not
+      strong enough to sit up. Would he order an invalid couch down from London?
+      She described the article, and where it was to be had.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He said Harris should go up in the morning and bring one down with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He then put her several questions about her patient; and at last asked
+      her, with an anxiety he in vain endeavored to conceal, what she thought
+      was the relation between her and Severne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now it may be remembered that Miss Gale had once been on the point of
+      telling him all she knew, and had written him a letter. But at that time
+      the Klosking was not expected to appear on the scene in person. Were she
+      now to say she had seen her and Severne living together, Rhoda felt that
+      she should lower her patient. She had not the heart to do that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhoda Gale was not of an amorous temperament, and she was all the more
+      open to female attachments. With a little encouragement she would have
+      loved Zoe, but she had now transferred her affection to the Klosking. She
+      replied to Vizard almost like a male lover defending the object of his
+      affection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The exact relation is more than I can tell; but I think he has lived upon
+      her, for she was richer than he was; and I feel sure he has promised her
+      marriage. And my great fear now is lest he should get hold of her and keep
+      his promise. He is as poor as a rat or a female physician; and she has a
+      fortune in her voice, and has money besides, Miss Dover tells me. Pray
+      keep her here till she is quite well, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And then let me have her up at Hillstoke. She is beginning to love me,
+      and I dote on her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So do I.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, but you must not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is not to love any man again who will not marry her. I won't let her.
+      I'll kill her first, I love her so. A rogue she shan't marry, and I can't
+      let you marry her, because, her connection with that Severne is
+      mysterious. She seems the soul of virtue, but I could not let <i>you</i>
+      marry her until things are clearer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Make your mind easy. I will not marry her&mdash;nor anybody else&mdash;till
+      things are a great deal clearer than I have ever found them, where your
+      sex is concerned.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale approved the resolution.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day Vizard posted his keepers, and sent his advertisements to the
+      London and country journals.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny came into his study to tell him there was more trouble&mdash;Miss
+      Maitland taken seriously ill, and had written to Zoe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor old soul!&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;I have a great mind to ride over and see
+      her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Somebody ought to go,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can I&mdash;with Zoe, and Mademoiselle Klosking, and you, to look
+      after?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Instead of one old woman. Not much excitement in that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, cousin. To think of your remembering! Why, you must have gone to bed
+      sober.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I often do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were always an eccentric landowner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you talk. You are a caricature.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This banter was interrupted by Miss Gale, who came to tell Harrington
+      Mademoiselle Klosking desired to see him, at his leisure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He said he would come directly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Before you go,&rdquo; said Miss Gale, &ldquo;let us come to an understanding. She had
+      only two days' fever; but that fever, and the loss of blood, and the shock
+      to her nerves, brought her to death's door by exhaustion. Now she is
+      slowly recovering her strength, because she has a healthy stomach, and I
+      give her no stimulants to spur and then weaken her, but choice and simple
+      esculents, the effect of which I watch, and vary them accordingly. But the
+      convalescent period is always one of danger, especially from chills to the
+      body, and excitements to the brain. At no period are more patients thrown
+      away for want of vigilance. Now I can guard against chills and other
+      bodily things, but not against excitements&mdash;unless you co-operate.
+      The fact is, we must agree to avoid speaking about Mr. Severne. We must be
+      on our guard. We must parry; we must evade; we must be deaf, stupid,
+      slippery; but no Severne&mdash;for five or six days more, at all events.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus forewarned, Vizard, in due course, paid his second visit to Ina
+      Klosking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He found her propped up with pillows this time. She begged him to be
+      seated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had evidently something on her mind, and her nurses watched her like
+      cats.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are fond of music, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not of all music. I adore good music, I hate bad, and I despise mediocre.
+      Silence is golden, indeed, compared with poor music.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are right, sir. Have you good music in the house?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A little. I get all the operas, and you know there are generally one or
+      two good things in an opera&mdash;among the rubbish. But the great bulk of
+      our collection is rather old-fashioned. It is sacred music&mdash;oratorios,
+      masses, anthems, services, chants. My mother was the collector. Her tastes
+      were good, but narrow. Do you care for that sort of music?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sacred music? Why, it is, of all music, the most divine, and soothes the
+      troubled soul. Can I not see the books? I read music like words. By
+      reading I almost hear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We will bring you up a dozen books to begin on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went down directly; and such was his pleasure in doing anything for the
+      Klosking that he executed the order in person, brought up a little pile of
+      folios and quartos, beautifully bound and lettered, a lady having been the
+      collector.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, as he mounted the stairs, with his very chin upon the pile, who
+      should he see looking over the rails at him but his sister Zoe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was sadly changed. There was a fixed ashen pallor on her cheek, and a
+      dark circle under her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped to look at her. &ldquo;My poor child,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;you look very ill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am very ill, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you not be better for a change?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I might.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why coop yourself up in your own room? Why deny yourself a brother's
+      sympathy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl trembled, and tears came to her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it with me you sympathize?&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you doubt it, Zoe?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe hung her head a moment, and did not reply. Then she made a diversion.
+      &ldquo;What are those books? Oh, I see&mdash;your mother's music-books. Nothing
+      is too good for <i>her.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing in the way of music-books is too good for her. For shame! are you
+      jealous of that unfortunate lady?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe made no reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She put her hands before her face, that Vizard might not see her mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he rested his books on a table, and came and took her head in his
+      hands paternally. &ldquo;Do not shut yourself up any longer. Solitude is
+      dangerous to the afflicted. Be more with me than ever, and let this cruel
+      blow bind us more closely, instead of disuniting us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He kissed her lovingly, and his kind words set her tears flowing; but they
+      did her little good&mdash;they were bitter tears. Between her and her
+      brother there was now a barrier sisterly love could not pass. He hated and
+      despised Edward Severne; and she only distrusted him, and feared he was a
+      villain. She loved him still with every fiber of her heart, and pined for
+      his explanation of all that seemed so dark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So then he entered the sick-room with his music-books; and Zoe, after
+      watching him in without seeming to do so, crept away to her own room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then there was rather a pretty little scene. Miss Gale and Miss Dover, on
+      each side of the bed, held a heavy music-book, and Mademoiselle Klosking
+      turned the leaves and read, when the composition was worth reading. If it
+      was not, she quietly passed it over, without any injurious comment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard watched her from the foot of the bed, and could tell in a moment,
+      by her face, whether the composition was good, bad, or indifferent. When
+      bad, her face seemed to turn impassive, like marble; when good, to expand;
+      and when she lighted on a masterpiece, she was almost transfigured, and
+      her face shone with elevated joy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was a study to the enamored Vizard, and it did not escape the
+      quick-sighted doctress. She despised music on its own merits, but she
+      despised nothing that could be pressed into the service of medicine; and
+      she said to herself, &ldquo;I'll cure her with esculents and music.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The book was taken away to make room for another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then said Ina Klosking, &ldquo;Mr. Vizard, I desire to say a word to you. Excuse
+      me, my dear friends.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale colored up. She had not foreseen a <i>te'te-'a-te'te</i> between
+      Vizard and her patient. However, there was no help for it, and she
+      withdrew to a little distance with Fanny; but she said to Vizard, openly
+      and expressively, &ldquo;Remember!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When they had withdrawn a little way, Ina Klosking fixed her eyes on
+      Vizard, and said, in a low voice, &ldquo;Your sister!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard started a little at the suddenness of this, but he said nothing: he
+      did not know what to say.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she had waited a little, and he said nothing, she spoke again. &ldquo;Tell
+      me something about her. Is she good? Forgive me: it is not that I doubt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is good, according to her lights.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is she proud?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is she just?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. And I never met a woman that was.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed it is rare. Why does she not visit me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She blames me for all that has happened.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know, madam. My sister looks very ill, and keeps her own room. If
+      she does not visit you, she holds equally aloof from us all. She has not
+      taken a single meal with me for some days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Since I was your patient and your guest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray do not conclude from that&mdash;Who can interpret a woman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Another woman. Enigmas to you, we are transparent to each other. Sir,
+      will you grant me a favor? Will you persuade Miss Vizard to see me here
+      alone&mdash;all alone? It will be a greater trial to me than to her, for I
+      am weak. In this request I am not selfish. She can do nothing for me; but
+      I can do a little for her, to pay the debt of gratitude I owe this
+      hospitable house. May Heaven bless it, from the roof to the foundation
+      stone!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will speak to my sister, and she shall visit you&mdash;with the consent
+      of your physician.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is well,&rdquo; said Ina Klosking, and beckoned her friends, one of whom,
+      Miss Gale, proceeded to feel her pulse, with suspicious glances at Vizard.
+      But she found the pulse calm, and said so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard took his leave and went straight to Zoe's room. She was not there.
+      He was glad of that, for it gave him hopes she was going to respect his
+      advice and give up her solitary life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went downstairs and on to the lawn to look for her. He could not see
+      her anywhere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, when he had given up looking for her, he found her in his study
+      crouched in a corner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She rose at sight of him and stood before him. &ldquo;Harrington,&rdquo; said she, in
+      rather a commanding way, &ldquo;Aunt Maitland is ill, and I wish to go to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Harrington stared at her with surprise. &ldquo;You are not well enough
+      yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite well enough in body to go anywhere.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but&mdash;&rdquo; said Harrington.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She caught him up impatiently. &ldquo;Surely you cannot object to my visiting
+      Aunt Maitland. She is dangerously ill. I had a second letter this morning&mdash;see.&rdquo;
+       And she held him out a letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Harrington was in a difficulty. He felt sure this was not her real motive;
+      but he did not like to say so harshly to an unhappy girl. He took a
+      moderate course. &ldquo;Not just now, dear,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! am I to wait till she dies?&rdquo; cried Zoe, getting agitated at his
+      opposition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be reasonable, dear. You know you are the mistress of this house. Do not
+      desert me just now. Consider the position. It is a very chattering county.
+      I entertain Mademoiselle Klosking; I could not do otherwise when she was
+      nearly killed in my hall. But for my sister to go away while she remains
+      here would have a bad effect.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is too late to think of that, Harrington. The mischief is done, and
+      you must plead your eccentricity. Why should I bear the blame? I never
+      approved it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You would have sent her to an inn, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; but Miss Gale offered to take her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I am to understand that you propose to mark your reprobation of my
+      conduct by leaving my house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! publicly? Oh no. You may say to yourself that your sister could not
+      bear to stay under the same roof with Mr. Severne's mistress. But this
+      chattering county shall never know my mind. My aunt is dangerously ill.
+      She lives but thirty miles off. She is a fit object of pity. She is a&mdash;respectable&mdash;lady;
+      she is all alone; no female physician, no flirt turned Sister of Charity,
+      no woman-hater, to fetch and carry for her. And so I shall go to her. I am
+      your sister, not your slave. If you grudge me your horses, I will go on
+      foot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard was white with wrath, but governed himself like a man. &ldquo;Go on,
+      young lady!&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;go on! Jeer, and taunt, and wound the best brother
+      any young madwoman ever had. But don't think I'll answer you as you
+      deserve. I'm too cunning. If I was to say an unkind word to you, I should
+      suffer the tortures of the damned. So go on!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no. Forgive me, Harrington. It is your opposition that drives me
+      wild. Oh, have pity on me! I shall go mad if I stay here. Do, pray, pray,
+      pray let me go to Aunt Maitland!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You shall go, Zoe. But I tell you plainly, this step will be a blow to
+      our affection&mdash;the first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe cried at that. But as she did not withdraw her request, Harrington
+      told her, with cold civility, that she must be good enough to be ready
+      directly after breakfast to-morrow, and take as little luggage as she
+      could with convenience to herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Horses were sent on that night to the &ldquo;Fox,&rdquo; an inn half-way between
+      Vizard Court and Miss Maitland's place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the morning a light barouche, with a sling for luggage, came round, and
+      Zoe was soon seated in it. Then, to her surprise, Harrington came out and
+      sat beside her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was pleased at this and said, &ldquo;What! are you going with me, dear, all
+      that way?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, to save appearances,&rdquo; said he; and took out a newspaper to read.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This froze Zoe, and she retired within herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a fine fresh morning; the coachman drove fast; the air fanned her
+      cheek; the motion was enlivening; the horses's hoofs rang quick and clear
+      upon the road. Fresh objects met the eye every moment. Her heart was as
+      sad and aching as before, but there arose a faint encouraging sense that
+      some day she might be better, or things might take some turn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When they had rolled about ten miles she said, in a low voice,
+      &ldquo;Harrington.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were right. Cooping one's self up is the way to go mad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course it is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I feel a little better now&mdash;a very little.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But he was not hearty, and she said no more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was extremely attentive to her all the journey, and, indeed, had never
+      been half so polite to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This, however, led to a result he did not intend nor anticipate. Zoe,
+      being now cool, fell into a state of compunction and dismay. She saw his
+      affection leaving her for <i>her,</i> and stiff politeness coming instead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She leaned forward, put her hands on his knees, and looked, all scared, in
+      his face. &ldquo;Harrington,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;I was wrong. What is Aunt Maitland to
+      me? You are my all. Bid him turn the horses' heads and go home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, we are only six miles from the place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does that matter? We shall have had a good long drive together, and
+      I will dine with you after it; and I will ride or drive with you every
+      day, if you will let me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard could not help smiling. He was disarmed. &ldquo;You impulsive young
+      monkey,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I shall do nothing of the kind. In the first place, I
+      couldn't turn back from anything; I'm only a man. In the next place, I
+      have been thinking it over, as you have; and this is a good move of ours,
+      though I was a little mortified at first. Occupation is the best cure of
+      love, and this old lady will find you plenty. Besides, nursing improves
+      the character. Look at that frivolous girl Fanny, how she has come out.
+      And you know, Zoe, if you get sick of it in a day or two, you have only to
+      write to me, and I will send for you directly. A short absence, with so
+      reasonable a motive as visiting a sick aunt, will provoke no comments. It
+      is all for the best.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This set Zoe at her ease, and brother and sister resumed their usual
+      manners.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They reached Miss Maitland's house, and were admitted to her sick-room.
+      She was really very ill, and thanked them so pathetically for coming to
+      visit a poor lone old woman that now they were both glad they had come.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe entered on her functions with an alacrity that surprised herself, and
+      Vizard drove away. But he did not drive straight home. He had started from
+      Vizard Court with other views. He had telegraphed Lord Uxmoor the night
+      before, and now drove to his place, which was only five miles distant. He
+      found him at home, and soon told him his errand. &ldquo;Do you remember meeting
+      a young fellow at my house, called Severne?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do,&rdquo; said Lord Uxmoor, dryly enough.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, he has turned out an impostor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Uxmoor's eye flashed. He had always suspected Severne of being his rival
+      and a main cause of his defeat. &ldquo;An impostor?&rdquo; said he: &ldquo;that is rather a
+      strong word. Certainly I never heard a gentleman tell such a falsehood as
+      he volunteered about&mdash;what's the fellow's name?&mdash;a detective.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Poikilus. That is nothing. That was one of his white lies. He is a
+      villain all round, and a forger by way of climax.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A forger! What, a criminal?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rather! Here are his drafts. The drawer and acceptor do not exist. The
+      whole thing was written by Edward Severne, whose indorsement figures on
+      the bill. He got me to cash these bills. I deposit them with you, and I
+      ask you for a warrant to commit him&mdash;if he should come this way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that likely?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all; it is a hundred to one he never shows his nose again in
+      Barfordshire. When he was found out, he bolted, and left his very clothes
+      in my house. I packed them off to the 'Swan' at Taddington. He has never
+      been heard of since; and I have warned him, by advertisement, that he will
+      be arrested if ever he sets foot in Barfordshire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, I am not going to throw away a chance. The beggar had the
+      impudence to spoon on my sister Zoe. That was my fault, not hers. He was
+      an old college acquaintance, and I gave him opportunities&mdash;I deserve
+      to be horsewhipped. However, I am not going to commit the same blunder
+      twice. My sister is in your neighborhood for a few days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And perhaps you will be good enough to keep your eye on her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I feel much honored by such a commission. But you have not told me where
+      Miss Vizard is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With her aunt, Miss Maitland, at Somerville Villa, near Bagley. Apropos,
+      I had better tell you what she is there for, or your good dowager will be
+      asking her to parties. She has come to nurse her aunt Maitland. The old
+      lady is seriously ill, and all our young coquettes are going in for
+      nursing. We have a sick lady at our house, I am sorry to say, and she is
+      nursed like a queen by Doctress Gale and ex Flirt Fanny Dover. Now is
+      fulfilled the saying that was said,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      'O woman! in our hours of ease&mdash;'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I spare you the rest, and simply remark that our Zoe, fired by the example
+      of those two ladies, has devoted herself to nursing Aunt Maitland. It is
+      very good of her, but experience tells me she will very soon find it
+      extremely trying; and as she is a very pretty girl, and therefore a fit
+      subject of male charity, you might pay her a visit now and then, and show
+      her that this best of all possible worlds contains young gentlemen of
+      distinction, with long and glossy beards, as well as peevish old women,
+      who are extra selfish and tyrannical when they happen to be sick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Uxmoor positively radiated as this programme was unfolded to him. Vizard
+      observed that, and chuckled inwardly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He then handed him the forged acceptances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Uxmoor begged him to write down the facts on paper, and also his
+      application for the warrant. He did so. Lord Uxmoor locked the paper up,
+      and the friends parted. Vizard drove off, easy in his mind, and
+      congratulating himself, not unreasonably, on his little combination, by
+      means of which he had provided his sister with a watch-dog, a companion,
+      and an honorable lover all in one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Uxmoor put on his hat and strode forth into his own grounds, with his
+      heart beating high at this strange turn of things in favor of his love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Neither foresaw the strange combinations which were to arise out of an
+      event that appeared so simple and one-sided.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      INA KLOSKING'S cure was retarded by the state of her mind. The excitement
+      and sharp agony her physician had feared died away as the fever of the
+      brain subsided; but then there settled down a grim, listless lethargy,
+      which obstructed her return to health and vigor. Once she said to Rhoda
+      Gale, &ldquo;But I have nothing to get well for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As a rule, she did not speak her mind, but thought a great deal. She often
+      asked after Zoe; and her nurses could see that her one languid anxiety was
+      somehow connected with that lady. Yet she did not seem hostile to her now,
+      nor jealous. It was hard to understand her; she was reserved, and very
+      deep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The first relief to the deadly languor of her mind came to her from Music.
+      That was no great wonder; but, strange to say, the music that did her good
+      was neither old enough to be revered, nor new enough to be fashionable. It
+      was English music too, and <i>passe''</i> music. She came across a
+      collection of Anglican anthems and services&mdash;written, most of it,
+      toward the end of the last century and the beginning of this. The
+      composers' names promised little: they were Blow, Nares, Green, Kent,
+      King, Jackson, etc. The words and the music of these compositions seemed
+      to suit one another; and, as they were all quite new to her, she went
+      through them almost eagerly, and hummed several of the strains, and with
+      her white but now thin hand beat time to others. She even sent for Vizard,
+      and said to him, &ldquo;You have a treasure here. Do you know these
+      compositions?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He inspected his treasure. &ldquo;I remember,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;my mother used to sing
+      this one, 'When the Eye saw Her, then it blessed Her;' and parts of this
+      one, 'Hear my Prayer;' and, let me see, she used to sing this psalm,
+      'Praise the Lord,' by Jackson. I am ashamed to say I used to ask for
+      'Praise the Lord Jackson,' meaning to be funny, not devout.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She did not choose ill,&rdquo; said Ina. &ldquo;I thought I knew English music, yet
+      here is a whole stream of it new to me. Is it esteemed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it was once, but it has had its day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is strange; for here are some immortal qualities. These composers
+      had brains, and began at the right end; they selected grand and tuneful
+      words, great and pious thoughts; they impregnated themselves with those
+      words and produced appropriate music. The harmonies are sometimes thin,
+      and the writers seem scarcely to know the skillful use of discords; but
+      they had heart and invention; they saw their way clear before they wrote
+      the first note; there is an inspired simplicity and fervor: if all these
+      choice things are dead, they must have fallen upon bad interpreters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt,&rdquo; said Vizard; &ldquo;so please get well, and let me hear these pious
+      strains, which my poor dear mother loved so well, interpreted worthily.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Klosking's eyes filled. &ldquo;That is a temptation,&rdquo; said she, simply. Then
+      she turned to Rhoda Gale. &ldquo;Sweet physician, he has done me good. He has
+      given me something to get well for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard's heart yearned. &ldquo;Do not talk like that,&rdquo; said he, buoyantly; then,
+      in a broken voice, &ldquo;Heaven forbid you should have nothing better to live
+      for than that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; said she, gravely, &ldquo;I have nothing better to live for now than to
+      interpret good music worthily.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a painful silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina broke it. She said, quite calmly, &ldquo;First of all, I wish to know how
+      others interpret these strains your mother loved, and I have the honor to
+      agree with her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said Vizard, &ldquo;we will soon manage that for you. These things are not
+      defunct, only unfashionable. Every choir in England has sung them, and can
+      sing them, after a fashion; so, at twelve o'clock to-morrow, look out&mdash;for
+      squalls!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He mounted his horse, rode into the cathedral town&mdash;distant eight
+      miles&mdash;and arranged with the organist for himself, four leading boys,
+      and three lay clerks. He was to send a carriage in for them after the
+      morning service, and return them in good time for vespers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny told Ina Klosking, and she insisted on getting up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By this time Doctress Gale had satisfied herself that a little excitement
+      was downright good for her patient, and led to refreshing sleep. So they
+      dressed her loosely but very warmly, and rolled her to the window on her
+      invalid couch, set at a high angle. It was a fine clear day in October,
+      keen but genial; and after muffling her well, they opened the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While she sat there, propped high, and inhaling the pure air, Vizard
+      conveyed his little choir, by another staircase, into the antechamber;
+      and, under his advice, they avoided preludes and opened in full chorus
+      with Jackson's song of praise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the first burst of sacred harmony, Ina Klosking was observed to quiver
+      all over.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They sung it rather coarsely, but correctly and boldly, and with a certain
+      fervor. There were no operatic artifices to remind her of earth; the
+      purity and the harmony struck her full. The great singer and sufferer
+      lifted her clasped hands to God, and the tears flowed fast down her
+      cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These tears were balm to that poor lacerated soul, tormented by many
+      blows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O lacrymarum fons, tenero sacros Ducemtium ortus ex animo, quater Felix,
+      in imo qui scatentem Pectore, te, pia nympha, sensit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhoda Gale, who hated music like poison, crept up to her, and, infolding
+      her delicately, laid a pair of wet eyes softly on her shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard now tapped at the door, and was admitted from the music-room. He
+      begged Ina to choose another composition from her book. She marked a
+      service and two anthems, and handed him the volume, but begged they might
+      not be done too soon, one after the other. That would be quite enough for
+      one day, especially if they would be good enough to repeat the hymn of
+      praise to conclude; &ldquo;for,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;these are things to be digested.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon the boys' pure voices rose again and those poor dead English
+      composers, with prosaic names, found their way again to the great foreign
+      singer's soul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They sung an anthem, which is now especially despised by those great
+      critics, the organists of the country&mdash;&ldquo;My Song shall be of Mercy and
+      Judgment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Klosking forgave the thinness of the harmony, and many little faults
+      in the vocal execution. The words, no doubt, went far with her, being
+      clearly spoken. She sat meditating, with her moist eyes raised, and her
+      face transfigured, and at the end she murmured to Vizard, with her eyes
+      still raised, &ldquo;After all, they are great and pious words, and the music
+      has at least this crowning virtue&mdash;it means the words.&rdquo; Then she
+      suddenly turned upon him and said, &ldquo;There is another person in this house
+      who needs this consolation as much as I do. Why does she not come? But
+      perhaps she is with the musicians.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whom do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your sister.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, she is not in the house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina Klosking started at that information, and bent her eyes keenly and
+      inquiringly on him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She left two days ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To nurse a sick aunt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed! Had she no other reason?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not that I know of,&rdquo; said Vizard; but he could not help coloring a
+      little.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little choir now sung a service, King in F. They sung &ldquo;The Magnificat&rdquo;
+       rudely, and rather profanely, but recovered themselves in the &ldquo;Dimittis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When it was over, Ina whispered, &ldquo;'To be a light to lighten the Gentiles.'
+      That is an inspired duet. Oh, how it might be sung!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course it might,&rdquo; whispered Vizard; &ldquo;so you have something to get well
+      for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, my friend&mdash;thanks to you and your sainted mother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This, uttered in a voice which, under the healing influence of music,
+      seemed to have regained some of its rich melody, was too much for our
+      cynic, and he bustled off to hide his emotion, and invited the musicians
+      to lunch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All the servants had been listening on the stairs, and the hospitable old
+      butler plied the boys with sparkling Moselle, which, being himself reared
+      on mighty Port; he thought a light and playful wine&mdash;just the thing
+      for women and children. So after luncheon they sung rather wild, and the
+      Klosking told Vizard, dryly, that would do for the present.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he ordered the carriage for them, and asked Mademoiselle Klosking
+      when she would like them again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When <i>can</i> I?&rdquo; she inquired, rather timidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every day, if you like&mdash;Sundays and all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must be content with every other day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard said he would arrange it so, and was leaving her; but she begged
+      him to stay a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She would be safer here,&rdquo; said she, very gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard was taken aback by the suddenness of this return to a topic he was
+      simple enough to think she had abandoned. However, he said, &ldquo;She is safe
+      enough. I have taken care of that, you may be sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have done well, sir,&rdquo; said Ina, very gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She said no more to him; but just before dinner Fanny came in, and Miss
+      Gale went for a walk in the garden. Ina pinned Fanny directly. &ldquo;Where is
+      Miss Vizard?&rdquo; said she, quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny colored up; but seeing in a moment that fibs would be dangerous,
+      said, mighty carelessly, &ldquo;She is at Aunt Maitland's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where does <i>she</i> live, dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In a poky little place called 'Somerville Villa.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Far from this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not very. It is forty miles by the railway, but not thirty by the road;
+      and Zoe went in the barouche all the way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mademoiselle Klosking thought a little, and then taking Fanny Dover's
+      hand, said to her, very sweetly, &ldquo;I beg you to honor me with your
+      confidence, and tell me something. Believe me, it is for no selfish motive
+      I ask you; but I think Miss Vizard is in danger. She is too far from her
+      brother, and too far from me. Mr. Vizard says she is safe. Now, can you
+      tell me what he means? How can she be safe? Is her heart turned to stone,
+      like mine?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, indeed,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Yes, I will be frank with you; for I believe
+      you are wiser than any one of us. Zoe is not safe, left to herself. Her
+      heart is anything but stone; and Heaven knows what wild, mad thing she
+      might be led into. But I know perfectly well what Vizard means: no, I
+      don't like to tell it you all; it will give you pain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is little hope of that. I am past pain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then&mdash;Miss Gale will scold me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, she shall not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I know you have got the upper hand even of her; so if you promise I
+      shall not be scolded, I'll tell you. You see, I had my misgivings about
+      this very thing; and as soon as Vizard came home&mdash;it was he who took
+      her to Aunt Maitland&mdash;I asked him what precautions he had taken to
+      hinder that man from getting hold of her again. Well, then&mdash;oh, I
+      ought to have begun by telling you Mr. Severne forged bills to get money
+      out of Harrington.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good Heavens!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Harrington will never punish him, if he keeps his distance; but he
+      has advertised in all the papers, warning him that if he sets foot in
+      Barfordshire he will be arrested and sent to prison.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina Klosking shook her head. &ldquo;When a man is in love with such a woman as
+      that, dangers could hardly deter him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That depends upon the man, I think. But Harrington has done better than
+      that. He has provided her with a watch-dog&mdash;the best of all
+      watch-dogs&mdash;another lover. Lord Uxmoor lives near Aunt Maitland, and
+      he adores Zoe; so Harrington has commissioned him to watch her, and cure
+      her, and all. I wish he'd cure <i>me</i>&mdash;an earl's coronet and
+      twenty thousand a year!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You relieve my mind,&rdquo; said Ina. Then after a pause&mdash;&ldquo;But let me ask
+      you one question more. Why did you not tell me Miss Vizard was gone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; said Fanny, coloring up. <i>&ldquo;She</i> told me not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, the Vixen in command. She orders everybody.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And why did she forbid you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, you do. Kiss me, dear. There, I will distress you with no more
+      questions. Why should I? Our instincts seldom deceive us. Well, so be it:
+      I have something more to get well for, and I will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny looked up at her inquiringly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;the daughter of this hospitable house will never return
+      to it while I am in it. Poor girl; she thinks <i>she</i> is the injured
+      woman. So be it. I will get well&mdash;and leave it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny communicated this to Miss Gale, and all she said was, &ldquo;She shall go
+      no further than Hillstoke then; for I love her better than any man can
+      love her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny did not tell Vizard; and he was downright happy, seeing the woman he
+      loved recover, by slow degrees, her health, her strength, her color, her
+      voice. Parting was not threatened. He did not realize that they should
+      ever part at all. He had vague hopes that, while she was under his roof,
+      opportunity might stand his friend, and she might requite his affection.
+      All this would not bear looking into very closely: for that very reason he
+      took particular care not to look into it very closely; but hoped all
+      things, and was happy. In this condition he received a little shock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A one-horse fly was driven up to the door, and a card brought in&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;MR. JOSEPH ASHMEAD.&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      Vizard was always at home at Vizard Court, except to convicted Bores. Mr.
+      Ashmead was shown into his study.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard knew him at a glance. The velveteen coat had yielded to tweed; but
+      another loud tie had succeeded to the one &ldquo;that fired the air at Homburg.&rdquo;
+       There, too, was the wash-leather face, and other traits Vizard professed
+      to know an actress's lover by. Yes, it was the very man at sight of whom
+      he had fought down his admiration of La Klosking, and declined an
+      introduction to her. Vizard knew the lady better now. But still he was a
+      little jealous even of her acquaintances, and thought this one unworthy of
+      her; so he received him with stiff but guarded politeness, leaving him to
+      open his business.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead, overawed by the avenue, the dozen gables, four-score chimneys,
+      etc., addressed him rather obsequiously, but with a certain honest
+      trouble, that soon softened the bad impression caused by his appearance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;pray excuse this intrusion of a stranger, but I am in
+      great anxiety. It is not for myself, but for a lady, a very distinguished
+      lady, whose interests I am charged with. It is Mademoiselle Klosking, the
+      famous singer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard maintained a grim silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may have heard of her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I almost fancy you once heard her sing&mdash;at Homburg.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I am sure you must have admired her, being a gentleman of taste.
+      Well, sir, it is near a fortnight since I heard from her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will say what is that to you? But the truth is, she left me, in
+      London, to do certain business for her, and she went down to this very
+      place. I offered to come with her, but she declined. To be sure, it was a
+      delicate matter, and not at all in my way. She was to write to me and
+      report progress, and give me her address, that I might write to her; but
+      nearly a fortnight has passed. I have not received a single letter. I am
+      in real distress and anxiety. A great career awaits her in England, sir;
+      but this silence is so mysterious, so alarming, that I begin actually to
+      hope she has played the fool, and thrown it all up, and gone abroad with
+      that blackguard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What blackguard, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Joseph drew in his horns. &ldquo;I spoke too quick, sir,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;it is no
+      business of mine. But these brilliant women are as mad as the rest in
+      throwing away their affections. They prefer a blackguard to a good man. It
+      is the rule. Excuse my plain speaking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Ashmead,&rdquo; said Vizard, &ldquo;I may be able to answer your questions about
+      this lady; but, before I do so, it is right I should know how far you
+      possess her confidence. To speak plainly, have you any objection to tell
+      me what is the precise relation between you and her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly not, sir. I am her theatrical agent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that all?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not quite. I have been a good deal about her lately, and have seen her in
+      deep distress. I think I may almost say I am her friend, though a very
+      humble one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard did not yet quite realize the truth that this Bohemian had in his
+      heart one holy spot&mdash;his pure devotion and unsexual friendship for
+      that great artist. Still, his prejudices were disarmed, and he said,
+      &ldquo;Well, Mr. Ashmead, excuse my cross-questioning you. I will now give
+      myself the pleasure of setting your anxieties at rest. Mademoiselle
+      Klosking is in this house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead stared at him, and then broke out, &ldquo;In this house! O Lord! How can
+      that be?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It happened in a way very distressing to us all, though the result is now
+      so delightful. Mademoiselle Klosking called here on a business with which,
+      perhaps, you are acquainted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unfortunately she met with an accident in my very hall, an accident that
+      endangered her life, sir; and of course we took charge of her. She has had
+      a zealous physician and good nurses, and she is recovering slowly. She is
+      quite out of danger, but still weak. I have no doubt she will be delighted
+      to see you. Only, as we are all under the orders of her physician, and
+      that physician is a woman, and a bit of a vixen, you must allow me to go
+      and consult her first.&rdquo; Vizard retired, leaving Joseph happy, but
+      mystified.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was not long alone. In less than a minute he had for companions some
+      well-buttered sandwiches made with smoked ham, and a bottle of old
+      Madeira. The solids melted in his mouth, the liquid ran through his veins
+      like oil charged with electricity and <i>elixir vitoe.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By-and-by a female servant came for him, and ushered him into Ina
+      Klosking's room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She received him with undisguised affection, and he had much ado to keep
+      from crying. She made him sit down near her in the vast embrasure of the
+      window, and gave him a letter to read she had just written to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They compared notes very rapidly; but their discourse will not be given
+      here, because so much of it would be repetition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were left alone to talk, and they did talk for more than an hour. The
+      first interruption, indeed, was a recitativo with chords, followed by a
+      verse from the leading treble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Ashmead looked puzzled; the Klosking eyed him demurely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before the anthem concluded, Vizard tapped, and was admitted from the
+      music-room. Ina smiled, and waved him to a chair. Both the men saw, by her
+      manner, they were not to utter a sound while the music was going on. When
+      it ceased, she said, &ldquo;Do you approve that, my friend?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If it pleases you, madam,&rdquo; replied the wary Ashmead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It does more than please me; it does me good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That reconciles me to it at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, then you do not admire it for itself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not&mdash;very&mdash;much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray, speak plainly. I am not a tyrant, to impose my tastes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well then, madam, I feel very grateful to anything that does you good:
+      otherwise, I should say the music was&mdash;rather dreary; and the singing&mdash;very
+      insipid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The open struggle between Joseph's honesty and his awe of the Klosking
+      tickled Vizard so that he leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Klosking smiled superior. &ldquo;He means,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;that the music is not
+      operatic, and the boys do not clasp their hands, and shake their
+      shoulders, and sing passionately, as women do in a theater. Heaven forbid
+      they should! If this world is all passion, there is another which is all
+      peace; and these boys' sweet, artless tones are the nearest thing we shall
+      get in this world to the unimpassioned voices of the angels. They are fit
+      instruments for pious words set by composers, who, however obscure they
+      may be, were men inspired, and have written immortal strains, which, as I
+      hear them, seem hardly of this world&mdash;they are so free from all
+      mortal dross.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard assented warmly. Ashmead asked permission to hear another. They
+      sung the &ldquo;Magnificat&rdquo; by King, in F.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Upon my word,&rdquo; said Ashmead, &ldquo;there is a deal of 'go' in that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then they sung the &ldquo;Nuno Dimittis.&rdquo; He said, a little dryly, there was
+      plenty of repose in that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My friend,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;there is&mdash;to the honor of the composer: the
+      'Magnificat' is the bright and lofty exultation of a young woman who has
+      borne the Messiah, and does not foresee His sufferings, only the boon to
+      the world and the glory to herself. But the 'Dimittis' is the very
+      opposite. It is a gentle joy, and the world contentedly resigned by a good
+      old man, fatigued, who has run his race, and longs to sleep after life's
+      fever. When next you have the good fortune to hear that song, think you
+      see the sun descending red and calm after a day of storms, and an aged
+      Christian saying, 'Good-night,' and you will honor poor dead King as I do.
+      The music that truly reflects great words was never yet small music, write
+      it who may.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are right, madam.&rdquo; said Ashmead. &ldquo;When I doubted its being good
+      music, I suppose I meant salable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, <i>voil'a!&rdquo;</i> said the Klosking. Then, turning to Vizard for
+      sympathy, &ldquo;What this faithful friend understands by good music is music
+      that can be sold for a good deal of money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is so,&rdquo; said Ashmead, stoutly. &ldquo;I am a theatrical agent. You can't
+      make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. You have tried it more than once,
+      you know, but it would not work.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead amused Vizard, and he took him into his study, and had some more
+      conversation with him. He even asked him to stay in the house; but Ashmead
+      was shy, and there was a theater at Taddington. So he said he had a good
+      deal of business to do; he had better make the &ldquo;Swan&rdquo; his headquarters. &ldquo;I
+      shall be at your service all the same, sir, or Mademoiselle Klosking's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have a glass of Madeira, Mr. Ashmead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir, to tell the truth, I have had one or two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then it knows the road.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very good, sir. What Madeira! Is this the wine the doctors ran
+      down a few years ago? They couldn't have tasted it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it is like ourselves, improved by traveling. That has been twice to
+      India.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will never go again past me,&rdquo; said Ashmead, gayly. &ldquo;My mouth is a cape
+      it will never weather.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went to his inn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before he had been there ten minutes, up rattled a smart servant in a
+      smart dogcart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hamper&mdash;for Joseph Ashmead, Esquire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anything to pay?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What for?&mdash;it's from Vizard Court.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the dog-cart rattled away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Joseph was in the hall, and witnessed this phenomenon. He said to himself,
+      &ldquo;I wish I had a vast acquaintance&mdash;ALL COUNTRY GENTLEMEN.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That afternoon Ina Klosking insisted on walking up and down the room,
+      supported by Mesdemoiselles Gale and Dover. The result was fatigue and
+      sleep; that is all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I will have but one live crutch. I must and will
+      recover my strength.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the evening she insisted on both ladies dining with Mr. Vizard. Here,
+      too, she had her way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard was in very good spirits, and, when the servants were gone,
+      complimented Miss Gale on her skill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;Our</i> skill, you mean,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;It was you who prescribed this
+      new medicine of the mind, the psalms and hymns and spiritual songs; and it
+      was you who administered the Ashmead, and he made her laugh, or nearly&mdash;and
+      that <i>we</i> have never been able to do. She must take a few grains of
+      Ashmead every day. The worst of it is, I am afraid we shall cure her too
+      quickly; and then we shall lose her. But that was to be expected. I am
+      very unfortunate in my attachments; I always was. If I fall in love with a
+      woman, she is sure to hate me, or else die, or else fly away. I love this
+      one to distraction, so she is sure to desert me, because she couldn't
+      misbehave, and I won't <i>let</i> her die.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Vizard, &ldquo;you know what to do&mdash;retard the cure. That is
+      one of the arts of your profession.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so it is; but how can I, when I love her? No, we must have recourse
+      to our benevolent tyrant again. He must get Miss Vizard back here, before
+      my goddess is well enough to spread her wings and fly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard looked puzzled. &ldquo;This,&rdquo; said he &ldquo;sounds like a riddle, or female
+      logic.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is both,&rdquo; said Rhoda. &ldquo;Miss Dover, give him the <i>mot d'e'nigme.</i>
+      I'm off&mdash;to the patient I adore.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She vanished swiftly, and Vizard looked to Fanny for a solution. But Fanny
+      seemed rather vexed with Miss Gale, and said nothing. Then he pressed her
+      to explain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She answered him, with a certain reluctance, &ldquo;Mademoiselle Klosking has
+      taken into her head that Zoe will never return to this house while she is
+      in it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who put that into her head, now?&rdquo; said Vizard, bitterly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody, upon my honor. A woman's instinct.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is horrified at the idea of keeping your sister out of her own house,
+      so she is getting well to go; and the strength of her will is such that
+      she <i>will</i> get well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the better; but Zoe will soon get tired of Somerville Villa. A little
+      persuasion will bring her home, especially if you were to offer to take
+      her place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I would do that, to oblige you, Harrington, if I saw any good at the
+      end of it. But please think twice. How can Zoe and that lady ever stay
+      under the same roof? How can they meet at your table, and speak to each
+      other? They are rivals.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are both getting cured, and neither will ever see the villain
+      again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope not; but who can tell? Well, never mind <i>them.</i> If their eyes
+      are not opened by this time, they will get no pity from me. It is you I
+      think of now.&rdquo; Then, in a hesitating way, and her cheeks mantling higher
+      and higher with honest blushes&mdash;&ldquo;You have suffered enough already
+      from women. I know it is not my business, but it does grieve me to see you
+      going into trouble again. What good can come of it? Her connection with
+      that man, so recent, and so&mdash;strange. The world <i>will</i> interpret
+      its own way. Your position in the county&mdash;every eye upon you. I see
+      the way in&mdash;no doubt it is strewed with flowers; but I see no way
+      out. Be brave in time, Harrington. It will not be the first time. She must
+      be a good woman, somehow, or faces, eyes and voices, and ways, are all a
+      lie. But if she is good, she is very unfortunate; and she will give you a
+      sore heart for life, if you don't mind. I'd clinch my teeth and shut my
+      eyes, and let her go in time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard groaned aloud, and at that a tear or two rolled down Fanny's
+      burning cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a good little girl,&rdquo; said Vizard, affectionately; &ldquo;but I <i>cannot.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He hung his head despondently and muttered, &ldquo;I see no way out either. But
+      I yield to fate. I feared her, and fled from her. She has followed me. I
+      can resist no more. I drift. Some men never know happiness. I shall have
+      had a happy fortnight, at all events. I thank you, and respect you for
+      your advice; but I can't take it. So now I suppose you will be too much
+      offended to oblige me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh dear, no.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you mind writing to Aunt Maitland, and saying you would like to
+      take Zoe's place?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will do it with pleasure to oblige you. Besides, it will be a fib, and
+      it is so long since I have told a good fib. When shall I write?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, about the end of the week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, that will be time enough. Miss Gale won't <i>let</i> her go till
+      next week. Ah, after all, how nice and natural it is to be naughty! Fibs
+      and flirtation, welcome home! This is the beauty of being good&mdash;and I
+      shall recommend it to all my friends on this very account&mdash;you can
+      always leave it off at a moment's notice, without any trouble. Now,
+      naughtiness sticks to you like a burr.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So, with no more ado, this new Mentor became Vizard's accomplice, and they
+      agreed to get Zoe back before the Klosking could get strong enough to move
+      with her physician's consent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the hamper of Madeira was landed in the hall of the &ldquo;Swan&rdquo; inn, a
+      genial voice cried, &ldquo;You are in luck.&rdquo; Ashmead turned, and there was
+      Poikilus peering at him from the doorway of the commercial room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the game now?&rdquo; thought Ashmead. But what he said was, &ldquo;Why, I
+      know that face. I declare, it is the gent that treated me at Homburg.
+      Bring in the hamper, Dick.&rdquo; Then to Poikilus, &ldquo;Have ye dined yet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Going to dine in half an hour. Roast gosling. Just enough for two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We'll divide it, if you like, and I'll stand a bottle of old Madeira. My
+      old friend, Squire Vizard, has just sent it me. I'll just have a splash;
+      dinner will be ready by then.&rdquo; He bustled out of the room, but said, as he
+      went, &ldquo;I say, old man, open the hamper, and put two bottles just within
+      the smile of the fire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He then went upstairs, and plunged his head in cold water, to clear his
+      faculties for the encounter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The friends sat down to dinner, and afterward to the Madeira, both gay and
+      genial outside, but within full of design&mdash;their object being to pump
+      one another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the encounter at Homburg, Ashmead had an advantage; Poikilus thought
+      himself unknown to Ashmead. But this time there was a change. Poikilus
+      knew by this time that La Klosking had gone to Vizard Court. How she had
+      known Severne was there puzzled him a good deal; but he had ended by
+      suspecting Ashmead, in a vague way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The parties, therefore, met on even terms. Ashmead resolved to learn what
+      he could about Severne, and Poikilus to learn what he could about Zoe
+      Vizard and Mademoiselle Klosking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead opened the ball: &ldquo;Been long here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Business?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Want to see if there's any chance of my getting paid for that job.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What job?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, the Homburg job. Look here&mdash;I don't know why I should have any
+      secrets from a good fellow like you; only you must not tell anybody else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, honor bright!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, I am a detective.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye don't mean that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm Poikilus.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good heavens! Well, I don't care. I haven't murdered anybody. Here's your
+      health, Poikilus. I say, you could tell a tale or two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I could. But I'm out of luck this time. The gentleman that employed
+      me has mizzled, and he promised me fifty pounds. I came down here in hopes
+      of finding him. Saw him once in this neighborhood.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you won't find him here, I don't think. You must excuse me, but
+      your employer is a villain. He has knocked a lady down, and nearly killed
+      her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't say that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; that beautiful lady, the singer, you saw in Homburg.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! the lady that said he should have his money?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The same.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, he must be mad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. A scoundrel. <i>That is all.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then she won't give him his money after that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not if I can help it. But if she likes to pay you your commission, I
+      shall not object to that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a good fellow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is more, I shall see her to-morrow, and I will put the question to
+      her for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Poikilus was profuse in his thanks, and said he began to think it was his
+      only chance. Then he had a misgiving. &ldquo;I have no claim on the lady,&rdquo; said
+      he; &ldquo;and I am afraid I have been a bad friend to her. I did not mean it,
+      though, and the whole affair is dark to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not very sharp, then, for a detective,&rdquo; said Ashmead. &ldquo;Well, shut
+      your mouth and open your eyes. Your Mr. Severne was the lady's lover, and
+      preyed upon her. He left her; she was fool enough to love him still, and
+      pined for him. He is a gambler, and was gambling by my side when
+      Mademoiselle Klosking came in; so he cut his lucky, and left me fifty
+      pounds to play for him, and she put the pot on, and broke the bank. I
+      didn't know who he was, but we found it out by his photograph. Then you
+      came smelling after the money, and we sold you nicely, my fine detective.
+      We made it our business to know where you wrote to&mdash;Vizard Court. She
+      went down there, and found him just going to be married to a beautiful
+      young lady. She collared him. He flung her down, and cut her temple open&mdash;nearly
+      killed her. She lies ill in the house, and the other young lady is gone
+      away broken-hearted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where to?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How should I know? What is that to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why don't you see? Wherever she is, he won't be far off. He likes her
+      best, don't he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It don't follow that she likes him, now she has found him out. He had
+      better not go after her, or he'll get a skinful of broken bones. My
+      friend, Squire Vizard, is the man to make short work with him, if he
+      caught the blackguard spooning after his sister.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And serve him right. Still, I wish I knew where that young lady is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dare say I could learn if I made it my business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Having brought the matter to that point, Poikilus left it, and simply made
+      himself agreeable. He told Ashmead his experiences; and as they were, many
+      of them, strange and dramatic, he kept him a delighted listener till
+      midnight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next day Ashmead visited Mademoiselle Klosking, and found her walking
+      up and down the room, with her hand on Miss Gale's shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She withdrew into the embrasure, and had some confidential talk with him.
+      As a matter of course, he told her about Poikilus, and that he was hunting
+      down Severne for his money.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; said the Klosking. &ldquo;Please tell me every word that passed
+      between you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He did so, as nearly as he could remember.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mademoiselle Klosking leaned her brow upon her hand a considerable time in
+      thought. Then she turned on Ashmead, and said, quietly, &ldquo;That Poikilus is
+      still acting for <i>him,</i> and the one thing they desire to learn is
+      where to find Miss Vizard, and delude her to her ruin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; cried Ashmead violently; but the next moment his countenance
+      fell. &ldquo;You are wiser than I am,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;it may be. Confound the sneak!
+      I'll give it him next time I see him! Why, he must love villainy for its
+      own sake. I as good as said you would pay him his fifty pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What fifty pounds? His fifty pounds is a falsehood, like himself. Now, my
+      friend, please take my instructions, my positive instructions.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, madam.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will not change your friendly manner: show no suspicion nor anger. If
+      they are cunning, we must be wise; and the wise always keep their temper.
+      You will say Miss Vizard has gone to Ireland, but to what part is only
+      known to her brother. Tell him this, and be very free and communicative on
+      all other subjects; for this alone has any importance now. As for me, I
+      can easily learn where Somerville Villa is, and in a day or two shall send
+      you to look after her. One thing is clear&mdash;I had better lose no time
+      in recovering my strength. Well, my will is strong. I will lose no time&mdash;your
+      arm, monsieur;&rdquo; and she resumed her promenade.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead, instructed as above, dined again with the detective; but out of
+      revenge gave him but one bottle of Madeira. As they sipped it, he
+      delivered a great many words; and in the middle of them said, &ldquo;Oh,
+      by-the-by, I asked after that poor young lady. Gone to Ireland, but they
+      didn't know what part.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After dinner Ashmead went to the theater. When he came back Poikilus was
+      gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So did Wisdom baffle Cunning that time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Cunning did not really leave the field: that very evening an aged man,
+      in green spectacles, was inquiring about the postal arrangements to Vizard
+      Court; and next day he might have been seen, in a back street of
+      Taddington, talking to the village postman, and afterward drinking with
+      him. It was Poikilus groping his way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      A FEW words avail to describe the sluggish waters of the Dead Sea, but
+      what pen can portray the Indian Ocean lashed and tormented by a cyclone?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Even so a few words have sufficed to show that Ina Klosking's heart was
+      all benumbed and deadened; and, with the help of insult, treachery, loss
+      of blood, brain-fever, and self-esteem rebelling against villainy, had
+      outlived its power of suffering poignant torture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But I cannot sketch in a few words, nor paint in many, the tempest of
+      passion in Zoe Vizard. Yet it is my duty to try and give the reader some
+      little insight into the agony, the changes, the fury, the grief, the
+      tempest of passion, in a virgin heart; in such a nature, the great
+      passions of the mind often rage as fiercely, or even more so, than in
+      older and experienced women.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Literally, Zoe Vizard loved Edward Severne one minute and hated him the
+      next; gave him up for a traitor, and then vowed to believe nothing until
+      she had heard his explanation; burned with ire at his silence, sickened
+      with dismay at his silence. Then, for a while, love and faith would get
+      the upper hand, and she would be quite calm. Why should she torment
+      herself? An old sweetheart, abandoned long ago, had come between them; he
+      had, unfortunately, done the woman an injury, in his wild endeavor to get
+      away from her. Well, what business had she to use force? No doubt he was
+      ashamed, afflicted at what he had done, being a man; or was in despair,
+      seeing that lady installed in her brother's house, and <i>her</i> story,
+      probably a parcel of falsehoods, listened to.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she would have a gleam of joy; for she knew he had not written to Ina
+      Klosking. But soon Despondency came down like a dark cloud; for she said
+      to herself, &ldquo;He has left us both. He sees the woman he does not love will
+      not let him have the one he does love; and so he has lost heart, and will
+      have no more to say to either.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When her thoughts took this turn she would cry piteously; but not for
+      long. She would dry her eyes, and burn with wrath all round; she would
+      still hate her rival, but call her lover a coward&mdash;a contemptible
+      coward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After her day of raging, and grieving, and doubting, and fearing, and
+      hoping, and despairing, night overtook her with an exhausted body, a
+      bleeding heart, and weeping eyes. She had been so happy&mdash;on the very
+      brink of paradise; and now she was deserted. Her pillow was wet every
+      night. She cried in her very sleep; and when she woke in the morning her
+      body was always quivering; and in the very act of waking came a horror,
+      and an instinctive reluctance to face the light that was to bring another
+      day of misery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Such is a fair, though loose, description of her condition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The slight fillip given to her spirits by the journey did her a morsel of
+      good, but it died away. Having to nurse Aunt Maitland did her a little
+      good at first. But she soon relapsed into herself, and became so <i>distraite</i>
+      that Aunt Maitland, who was all self, being an invalid, began to speak
+      sharply to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the second day of her visit to Somerville Villa, as she sat brooding at
+      the foot of her aunt's bed, suddenly she heard horses' feet, and then a
+      ring at the hall-door. Her heart leaped. Perhaps he had come to explain
+      all. He might not choose to go to Vizard Court. What if he had been
+      watching as anxiously as herself, and had seized the first opportunity! In
+      a moment her pale cheek rivaled carmine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl brought up a card&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;LORD UXMOOR.&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      The color died away directly. &ldquo;Say I am very sorry, but at this moment I
+      cannot leave my aunt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl stared with amazement, and took down the message.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Uxmoor rode away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe felt a moment's pleasure. No, if she could not see the right man, she
+      would not see the wrong. That, at least, was in her power.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nevertheless, in the course of the day, remembering Uxmoor's worth, and
+      the pain she had already given him, she was almost sorry she had indulged
+      herself at his expense.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Superfluous contrition! He came next day, as a matter of course. She liked
+      him none the better for coming, but she went downstairs to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He came toward her, but started back and uttered an exclamation. &ldquo;You are
+      not well,&rdquo; he said, in tones of tenderness and dismay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not very,&rdquo; she faltered; for his open manly concern touched her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you have come here to nurse this old lady? Indeed, Miss Vizard, you
+      need nursing yourself. You know it is some time since I had the pleasure
+      of seeing you, and the change is alarming. May I send you Dr. Atkins, my
+      mother's physician?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am much obliged to you. No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I forgot. You have a physician of your own sex. Why is she not
+      looking after you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Gale is better employed. She is at Vizard Court in attendance on a
+      far more brilliant person&mdash;Mademoiselle Klosking, a professional
+      singer. Perhaps you know her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I saw her at Homburg.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, she met with an accident in our hall&mdash;a serious one; and
+      Harrington took her in, and has placed all his resources&mdash;his lady
+      physician and all&mdash;at her service: he is so fond of <i>Music.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A certain satirical bitterness peered through these words, but honest
+      Uxmoor did not notice it. He said, &ldquo;Then I wish you would let me be your
+      doctor&mdash;for want of a better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you think <i>you</i> can cure me?&rdquo; said Zoe, satirically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It does seem presumptuous. But, at least, I could do you a little good if
+      you could be got to try my humble prescription.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; asked Zoe, listlessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is my mare Phillis. She is the delight of every lady who mounts her.
+      She is thorough-bred, lively, swift, gentle, docile, amiable, perfect.
+      Ride her on these downs an hour or two very day. I'll send her over
+      to-morrow. May I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you like. Rosa <i>would</i> pack up my riding-habit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rosa was a prophetess.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day came Phillis, saddled and led by a groom on horseback, and Uxmoor
+      soon followed on an old hunter. He lifted Zoe to her saddle, and away they
+      rode, the groom following at a respectful distance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When they got on the downs they had a delightful canter; but Zoe, in her
+      fevered state of mind, was not content with that. She kept increasing the
+      pace, till the old hunter could no longer live with the young filly; and
+      she galloped away from Lord Uxmoor, and made him ridiculous in the eyes of
+      his groom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The truth is, she wanted to get away from him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He drew the rein, and stood stock-still. She made a circuit of a mile, and
+      came up to him with heightened color and flashing eyes, looking beautiful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;Don't you like galloping?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but I don't like cruelty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cruelty?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look at the mare's tail how it is quivering, and her flanks panting! And
+      no wonder. You have been over twice the Derby course at a racing pace.
+      Miss Vizard, a horse is not a steam engine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll never ride her again,&rdquo; said Zoe. &ldquo;I did not come here to be scolded.
+      I will go home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They walked slowly home in silence. Uxmoor hardly knew what to say to her;
+      but at last he murmured, apologetically, &ldquo;Never mind the poor mare, if you
+      are better for galloping her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She waited a moment before she spoke, and then she said, &ldquo;Well, yes; I am
+      better. I'm better for my ride, and better for my scolding. Good-by.&rdquo;
+       (Meaning forever.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-by,&rdquo; said he, in the same tone. Only he sent the mare next day, and
+      followed her on a young thorough-bred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo; said Zoe; &ldquo;am I to have another trial?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And another after that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So this time she would only canter very slowly, and kept stopping every
+      now and then to inquire, satirically, if that would distress the mare.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Uxmoor was too good-humored to quarrel for nothing. He only laughed,
+      and said, &ldquo;You are not the only lady who takes a horse for a machine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      These rides did her bodily health some permanent good; but their effect on
+      her mind was fleeting. She was in fair spirits when she was actually
+      bounding through the air, but she collapsed afterward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At first, when she used to think that Severne never came near her, and
+      Uxmoor was so constant, she almost hated Uxmoor&mdash;so little does the
+      wrong man profit by doing the right thing for a woman. I admit that,
+      though not a deadly woman-hater myself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But by-and-by she was impartially bitter against them both; the wrong man
+      for doing the right thing, and the right man for not doing it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the days rolled by, and Severne did not appear, her indignation and
+      wounded pride began to mount above her love. A beautiful woman counts upon
+      pursuit, and thinks a man less than man if he does not love her well
+      enough to find her, though hid in the caves of ocean or the labyrinths of
+      Bermondsey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She said to herself, &ldquo;Then he has no explanation to offer. Another woman
+      has frightened him away from me. I have wasted my affections on a coward.&rdquo;
+       Her bosom boiled with love, and contempt, and wounded pride; and her mind
+      was tossed to and fro like a leaf in a storm. She began, by force of will,
+      to give Uxmoor some encouragement; only, after it she writhed and wept.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, finding herself driven to and fro like a leaf, she told Miss
+      Maitland all, and sought counsel of her. She must have something to lean
+      on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old lady was better by this time, and spoke kindly to her. She said
+      Mr. Severne was charming, and she was not bound to give him up because
+      another lady had past claims on him. But it appeared to her that Mr.
+      Severne himself had deserted her. He had not written to her. Probably he
+      knew something that had not yet transpired, and had steeled himself to the
+      separation for good reasons. It was a decision she must accept. Let her
+      then consider how forlorn is the condition of most deserted women compared
+      with hers. Here was a devoted lover, whom she esteemed, and who could
+      offer her a high position and an honest love. If she had a mother, that
+      mother would almost force her to engage herself at once to Lord Uxmoor.
+      Having no mother, the best thing she could do would be to force herself&mdash;to
+      say some irrevocable words, and never look back. It was the lot of her sex
+      not to marry the first love, and to be all the happier in the end for that
+      disappointment, though at the time it always seemed eternal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All this, spoken in a voice of singular kindness by one who used to be so
+      sharp, made Zoe's tears flow gently and somewhat cooled her raging heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She began now to submit, and only cry at intervals, and let herself drift;
+      and Uxmoor visited her every day, and she found it impossible not to
+      esteem and regard him. Nevertheless, one afternoon, just about his time,
+      she was seized with such an aversion to his courtship, and such a revolt
+      against the slope she seemed gliding down, that she flung on her bonnet
+      and shawl, and darted out of the house to escape him. She said to the
+      servant, &ldquo;I am gone for a walk, if anybody calls.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Uxmoor did call, and, receiving this message, he bit his lip, sent the
+      horse home and walked up to the windmill, on the chance of seeing her
+      anywhere. He had already observed she was never long in one mood; and as
+      he was always in the same mind, he thought perhaps he might be tolerably
+      welcome, if he could meet her unexpected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime Zoe walked very fast to get away from the house as soon as
+      possible, and she made a round of nearly five miles, walking through two
+      villages, and on her return lost her way. However, a shepherd showed her a
+      bridle-road which, he told her, would soon take her to Somerville Villa,
+      through &ldquo;the small pastures;&rdquo; and, accordingly, she came into a succession
+      of meadows not very large. They were all fenced and gated; but the gates
+      were only shut, not locked. This was fortunate; for they were new
+      five-barred gates, and a lady does not like getting over these, even in
+      solitude. Her clothes are not adapted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There were sheep in some of these, cows in others, and the pastures
+      wonderfully green and rich, being always well manured, and fed down by
+      cattle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe's love of color was soothed by these emerald fields, dotted with white
+      sheep and red cows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the last field, before the lane that led to the village, a single beast
+      was grazing. Zoe took no notice of him, and walked on; but he took
+      wonderful notice of her, and stared, then gave a disagreeable snort. He
+      took offense at her Indian shawl, and, after pawing the ground and
+      erecting his tail, he came straight at her at a tearing trot, and his tail
+      out behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe saw, and screamed violently, and ran for the gate ahead, which, of
+      course, was a few yards further from her than the gate behind. She ran for
+      her life; but the bull, when he saw that, broke into a gallop directly,
+      and came up fast with her. She could not escape.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment a man vaulted clean over the gate, tore a pitchfork out of
+      a heap of dung that luckily stood in the corner, and boldly confronted the
+      raging bull just in time; for at that moment Zoe lost heart, and crouched,
+      screaming, in the side ditch, with her hands before her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The new-comer, rash as his conduct seemed, was country-bred and knew what
+      he was about: he drove one of the prongs clean through the great cartilage
+      of the bull's mouth, and was knocked down like a nine-pin, with the broken
+      staff of the pitch-fork in his hand; and the bull reared in the air with
+      agony, the prong having gone clean through his upper lip in two places,
+      and fastened itself, as one fastens a pin, in that leathery but sensitive
+      organ.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now Uxmoor was a university athlete; he was no sooner down than up. So,
+      when the bull came down from his rearing, and turned to massacre his
+      assailant, he was behind him, and seizing his tail, twisted it, and
+      delivered a thundering blow on his backbone, and followed it up by a
+      shower of them on his ribs. &ldquo;Run to the gate, Zoe!&rdquo; he roared. Whack!
+      whack! whack!&mdash;&ldquo;Run to the gate, I tell you!&rdquo;&mdash;whack!&mdash;whack!&mdash;whack!&mdash;whack!&mdash;whack!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus ordered, Zoe Vizard, who would not have moved of herself, being in a
+      collapse of fear, scudded to the gate, got on the right side of it, and
+      looked over, with two eyes like saucers. She saw a sight incredible to
+      her. Instead of letting the bull alone, now she was safe, Uxmoor was
+      sticking to him like a ferret. The bull ran, tossing his nose with pain
+      and bellowing: Uxmoor dragged by the tail and compelled to follow in
+      preposterous, giant strides, barely touching the ground with the point of
+      his toe, pounded the creature's ribs with such blows as Zoe had never
+      dreamed possible. They sounded like flail on wooden floor, and each blow
+      was accompanied with a loud jubilant shout. Presently, being a five's
+      player, and ambidexter, he shifted his hand, and the tremendous whacks
+      resounded on the bull's left side. The bull, thus belabored, and
+      resounding like the big drum, made a circuit of the field, but found it
+      all too hot: he knew his way to a certain quiet farmyard; he bolted, and
+      came bang at Zoe once more, with furious eyes and gore-distilling
+      nostrils.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But this time she was on the right side of the gate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet she drew back in dismay as the bull drew near: and she was right; for,
+      in his agony and amazement, the unwieldy but sinewy brute leaped the
+      five-barred gate, and cleared it all but the top rail; that he burst
+      through, as if it had been paper, and dragged Uxmoor after him, and pulled
+      him down, and tore him some yards along the hard road on his back, and
+      bumped his head against a stone, and so got rid of him: then pounded away
+      down the lane, snorting, and bellowing, and bleeding; the prong still
+      stuck through his nostrils like a pin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe ran to Uxmoor with looks of alarm and tender concern, and lifted his
+      head to her tender bosom; for his clothes were torn, and his cheeks and
+      hands bleeding. But he soon shook off his confusion, and rose without
+      assistance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you got over your fright?&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;that is the question.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh yes! yes! It is only you I am alarmed for. It is much better I should
+      be killed than you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Killed! I never had better fun in my life. It was glorious. I stuck to
+      him, and hit&mdash;there, I have not had anything I could hit as hard as I
+      wanted to, since I used to fight with my cousin Jack at Eton. Oh, Miss
+      Vizard, it was a whirl of Elysium! But I am sorry you were frightened. Let
+      me take you home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, but not that way; that is the way the monster went!&rdquo; quivered
+      Zoe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, he has had enough of us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I have had too much of him. Take me some other road&mdash;a hundred
+      miles round. How I tremble!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you do. Take my arm.&mdash;No, putting the tips of your fingers on it
+      is no use; take it really&mdash;you want support. Be courageous, now&mdash;we
+      are very near home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe trembled, and cried a little, to conclude the incident, but walked
+      bravely home on Uxmoor's arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the hall at Somerville Villa she saw him change color, and insisted on
+      his taking some port wine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall be very glad,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A decanter was brought. He filled a large tumbler and drank it off like
+      water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was the first intimation he gave Zoe that he was in pain, and his
+      nerves hard tried; nor did she indeed arrive at that conclusion until he
+      had left her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of course, she carried all this to Aunt Maitland. That lady was quite
+      moved by the adventure. She sat up in bed, and listened with excitement
+      and admiration. She descanted on Lord Uxmoor's courage and chivalry, and
+      congratulated Zoe that such a pearl of manhood had fallen at her feet.
+      &ldquo;Why, child,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;surely, after this, you will not hesitate between
+      this gentleman and a beggarly adventurer, who has nothing, not even the
+      courage of a man. Turn your back on all such rubbish, and be the queen of
+      the county. I'd be content to die to-morrow if I could see you Countess of
+      Uxmoor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You shall live, and see it, dear aunt,&rdquo; said Zoe, kissing her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Miss Maitland, &ldquo;if anything can cure me, that will. And
+      really,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I feel better ever since that brave fellow began to
+      bring you to your senses.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Admiration and gratitude being now added to esteem, Zoe received Lord
+      Uxmoor next day with a certain timidity and half tenderness she had never
+      shown before; and, as he was by nature a rapid wooer, he saw his chance,
+      and stayed much longer than usual, and at last hazarded a hope that he
+      might be allowed to try and win her heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon she began to fence, and say that love was all folly. He had her
+      esteem and her gratitude, and it would be better for both of them to
+      confine their sentiments within those rational bounds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I cannot do,&rdquo; said Uxmoor; &ldquo;so I must ask your leave to be
+      ambitious. Let me try and conquer your affection.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As you conquered the bull?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; only not so rudely, nor so quickly, I'll be bound.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I don't know why I should object. I esteem you more than anybody in
+      the world. You are my beau ideal of a man. If you can <i>make</i> me love
+      you, all the better for me. Only, I am afraid you cannot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I try?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Zoe, bushing carnation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I come every day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Twice a day, if you like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I shall succeed&mdash;in time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you may.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he kissed her hand devotedly&mdash;the first time in his life&mdash;and
+      went away on wings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe flew up to her aunt Maitland, flushed and agitated. &ldquo;Aunt, I am as
+      good as engaged to him. I have said such unguarded things. I'm sure <i>he</i>
+      will understand it that I consent to receive his addresses as my lover.
+      Not that I really said so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope,&rdquo; said Aunt Maitland, &ldquo;that you have committed yourself somehow or
+      other, and cannot go back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I have. Yes; it is all over. I cannot go back now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she burst out crying. Then she was near choking, and had to smell her
+      aunt's salts, while still the tears ran fast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Maitland received this with perfect composure. She looked on them as
+      the last tears of regret given to a foolish attachment at the moment of
+      condemning it forever. She was old, and had seen these final tears shed by
+      more than one loving woman just before entering on her day of sunshine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now Zoe must be alone, and vent her swelling heart. She tied a
+      handkerchief round her head and darted into the garden. She went round and
+      round it with fleet foot and beating pulses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sun began to decline, and a cold wind to warn her in. She came, for
+      the last time, to a certain turn of the gravel walk, where there was a
+      little iron gate leading into the wooded walk from the meadows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that gate she found a man. She started back, and leaned against the
+      nearest tree, with her hands behind her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Edward Severne&mdash;all in black, and pale as death; but not paler
+      than her own face turned in a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Indeed, they looked at each other like two ghosts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIV.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      ZOE was the first to speak, or rather to gasp. &ldquo;Why do you come here?&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because <i>you</i> are here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how dare you come where I am?&mdash;now your falsehood is found out
+      and flung into my very face!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have never been false to you. At this moment I suffer for my fidelity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;You</i> suffer? I am glad of it. How?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In many ways: but they are all light, compared with my fear of losing
+      your love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will listen to no idle words,&rdquo; said Zoe sternly. &ldquo;A lady claimed you
+      before my face; why did you not stand firm like a man, and say, 'You have
+      no claim on me now; I have a right to love another, and I do?' Why did you
+      fly?&mdash;because you were guilty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said he, doggedly. &ldquo;Surprised and confounded, but not guilty. Fool!
+      idiot! that I was. I lost my head entirely. Yes, it is hopeless. You <i>must</i>
+      despise me. You have a right to despise me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't tell me,&rdquo; said Zoe: &ldquo;you never lose your head. You are always
+      self-possessed and artful. Would to Heaven I had never seen you!&rdquo; She was
+      violent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave her time. &ldquo;Zoe,&rdquo; said he, after a while, &ldquo;if I had not lost my
+      head, should I have ill-treated a lady and nearly killed her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said Zoe, sharply, &ldquo;that is what you have been suffering from&mdash;remorse.
+      And well you may. You ought to go back to her, and ask her pardon on your
+      knees. Indeed, it is all you have left to do now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know I ought.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then do what you ought. Good-by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot. I hate her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, because you have broken her heart, and nearly killed her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; but because she has come between me and the only woman I ever really
+      loved, or ever can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She would not have done that if you had not given her the right. I see
+      her now; she looked justice, and you looked guilt. Words are idle, when I
+      can see her face before me still. No woman could look like that who was in
+      the wrong. But you&mdash;guilt made you a coward: you were false to her
+      and false to me; and so you ran away from us both. You would have talked
+      either of us over, alone; but we were together: so you ran away. You have
+      found me alone now, so you are brave again; but it is too late. I am
+      undeceived. I decline to rob Mademoiselle Klosking of her lover; so
+      good-by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And this time she was really going, but he stopped her. &ldquo;At least don't go
+      with a falsehood on your lips,&rdquo; said he, coldly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A falsehood!&mdash;Me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it is a falsehood. How can you pretend I left that lady for you,
+      when you know my connection with her had entirely ceased ten months before
+      I ever saw your face?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This staggered Zoe a moment; so did the heat and sense of injustice he
+      threw into his voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I forgot that,&rdquo; said she, naively. Then, recovering herself, &ldquo;You may
+      have parted with her; but it does not follow that she consented. Fickle
+      men desert constant women. It is done every day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are mistaken again,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;When I first saw you, I had ceased to
+      think of Mademoiselle Klosking; but it was not so when I first left her. I
+      did not desert her. I tore myself from her. I had a great affection for
+      her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You dare to tell me that. Well, at all events, it is the truth. Why did
+      you leave her, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Out of self-respect. I was poor, she was rich and admired. Men sent her
+      bouquets and bracelets, and flattered her behind the scenes, and I was
+      lowered in my own eyes: so I left her. I was unhappy for a time; but I had
+      my pride to support me, and the wound was healed long before I knew what
+      it was to love, really to love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was nothing here that Zoe could contradict. She kept silence, and
+      was mystified.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she attacked him on another quarter. &ldquo;Have you written to her since
+      you behaved like a ruffian to her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. And I never will, come what may. It is wicked of me; but I hate her.
+      I am compelled to esteem her. But I hate her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe could quite understand that; but in spite of that she said, &ldquo;Of course
+      you do. Men always hate those they have used ill. Why did you not write to
+      <i>me?</i> Had a mind to be impartial, I suppose?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had reason to believe it would have been intercepted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For shame! Vizard is incapable of such a thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, you don't know how he is changed. He looks on me as a mad dog.
+      Consider, Zoe: do, pray, take the real key to it all. He is in love with
+      Mademoiselle Klosking, madly in love with her: and I have been so
+      unfortunate as to injure her&mdash;nearly to kill her. I dare say he
+      thinks it is on your account he hates me; but men deceive themselves. It
+      is for <i>her</i> he hates me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay. Think for a moment, and you will see it is. <i>You</i> are not in his
+      confidence. I am sure he has never told <i>you</i> that he ordered his
+      keepers to shoot me down if I came about the house at night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no, no!&rdquo; cried Zoe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know he has raised the country against me, and has warrants out
+      against me for forgery, because I was taken in by a rogue who gave me
+      bills with sham names on them, and I got Vizard to cash them? As soon as
+      we found out how I had been tricked, my uncle and I offered at once to pay
+      him back his money. But no! he prefers to keep the bills as a weapon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe began to be puzzled a little. But she said, &ldquo;You have been a long time
+      discovering all these grievances. Why have you held no communication all
+      this time?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because you were inaccessible. Does not your own heart tell you that I
+      have been all these weeks trying to communicate, and unable? Why, I came
+      three times under your window at night, and you never, never would look
+      out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did look out ever so often.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I had been you, I should have looked ten thousand times. I only left
+      off coming when I heard the keepers were ordered to shoot me down. Not
+      that I should have cared much, for I am desperate. But I had just sense
+      enough left to see that, if my dead body had been brought bleeding into
+      your hall some night, none of you would ever have been happy again. Your
+      eyes would have been opened, all of you. Well, Zoe, you left Vizard Court;
+      that I learned: but it was only this morning I could find out where you
+      were gone: and you see I am here&mdash;with a price upon my head. Please
+      read Vizard's advertisements.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She took them and read them. A hot flush mounted to her cheek.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I am to be imprisoned if I set my foot in
+      Barfordshire. Well, it will be false imprisonment, and Mademoiselle
+      Klosking's lover will smart for it. At all events, I shall take no orders
+      but from you. You have been deceived by appearances. I shall do all I can
+      to undeceive you, and if I cannot, there will be no need to imprison me
+      for a deceit of which I was the victim, nor to shoot me like a dog for
+      loving <i>you.</i> I will take my broken heart quietly away, and leave
+      Barfordshire, and England, and the world, for aught I care.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he cried: and that made her cry directly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; she sighed, &ldquo;we are unfortunate. Appearances are so deceitful. I see
+      I have judged too hastily, and listened too little to my own heart, that
+      always made excuses. But it is too late now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why too late?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It all looked so ugly, and you were silent. We are unfortunate. My
+      brother would never let us marry; and, besides&mdash;Oh, why did you not
+      come before?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I might as well say, Why did you not look out of your window? You could
+      have done it without risking your life, as I did. Or why did you not
+      advertise. You might have invited an explanation from 'E. S.,' under cover
+      to so-and-so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ladies never think of such things. You know that very well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't complain; but I do say that those who love should not be
+      ready to reproach; they should put a generous construction. You might have
+      known, and you ought to have known, that I was struggling to find you, and
+      torn with anguish at my impotence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no. I am so young and inexperienced, and all my friends against you.
+      It is they who have parted us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can they part us, if you love me still as I love you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because for the last fortnight I have not loved you, but hated you, and
+      doubted you, and thought my only chance of happiness was to imitate your
+      indifference: and while I was thinking so, another person has come
+      forward; one whom I have always esteemed: and now, in my pity and despair,
+      I have given him hopes.&rdquo; She hid her burning face in her hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see; you are false to me, and therefore you have suspected me of being
+      false to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At that she raised her head high directly. &ldquo;Edward, you are unjust. Look
+      in my face, and you may see what I have suffered before I could bring
+      myself to condemn you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! your paleness, that dark rim under your lovely eyes&mdash;am I the
+      cause?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed you are. But I forgive you. You are sadly pale and worn too. Oh,
+      how unfortunate we are!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not cry, dearest,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Do not despair. Be calm, and let me know
+      the worst. I will not reproach you, though you have reproached me. I love
+      you as no woman can love. Come, tell me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then the truth is, Lord Uxmoor has renewed his attention to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has been here every day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne groaned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Maitland was on his side, and spoke so kindly to me, and he saved my
+      life from a furious bull. He is brave, noble, good, and he loves me. I
+      have committed myself. I cannot draw back with honor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But from me you can, because I am poor and hated, and have no title. If
+      you are committed to him, you are engaged to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am; so now I can go neither way. If I had poison, I would take it this
+      moment, and end all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For God's sake, don't talk so. I am sure you exaggerate. You cannot, in
+      those few days, have pledged your faith to another. Let me see your
+      finger. Ah! there's my ring on it still: bless you, my own darling Zoe&mdash;bless
+      you;&rdquo; and he covered her hand with kisses, and bedewed it with his
+      ever-ready tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl began to melt, and all power to ooze out of her, mind and body.
+      She sighed deeply and said, &ldquo;What can I do&mdash;I don't say with honor
+      and credit, but with decency. What <i>can</i> I do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me, first, what you have said to him that you consider so
+      compromising.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe, with many sighs, replied: &ldquo;I believe&mdash;I said&mdash;I was
+      unhappy. And so I was. And I owned&mdash;that I admired&mdash;and esteemed
+      him. And so I do. And then of course he wanted more, and I could not give
+      more; and he asked might he try and make me love him; and&mdash;I said&mdash;I
+      am afraid I said&mdash;he might, if he could.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And a very proper answer, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! but I said he might come every day. It is idle to deceive ourselves:
+      I have encouraged his addresses. I can do nothing now with credit but die,
+      or go into a convent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When did you say this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This very day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then he has never acted on it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, but he will. He will be here tomorrow for certain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then your course is plain. You must choose to-night between him and me.
+      You must dismiss him by letter, or me upon this spot. I have not much
+      fortune to offer you, and no coronet; but I love you, and you have seen me
+      reject a lovely and accomplished woman, whom I esteem as much as you do
+      this lord. Reject him? Why, you have seen me fling her away from me like a
+      dog sooner than leave you in a moment's doubt of my love: if you cannot
+      write a civil note declining an earl for me, your love in not worthy of
+      mine, and I will begone with my love. I will not take it to Mademoiselle
+      Klosking, though I esteem her as you do this lord; but, at all events, I
+      will take it away from you, and leave you my curse instead, for a false,
+      fickle girl that could not wait one little month, but must fall, with her
+      engaged ring on her finger, into another man's arms. Oh, Zoe! Zoe! who
+      could have believed this of you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't reproach <i>me.</i> I won't bear it,&rdquo; she cried, wildly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope not to have to reproach you,&rdquo; said he, firmly; &ldquo;I cannot conceive
+      your hesitating.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am worn out. Love has been too great a torment. Oh, if I could find
+      peace!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again her tears flowed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He put on a sympathizing air. &ldquo;You shall have peace. Dismiss <i>him</i> as
+      I tell you, and he will trouble you no more; shake hands with me, and say
+      you prefer <i>him,</i> and I will trouble you no more. But with two
+      lovers, peace is out of the question, and so is self-respect. I know I
+      could not vacillate between you and Mademoiselle Klosking or any other
+      woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, Edward, if I do this, you ought to love me very dearly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall. Better than ever&mdash;if possible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And never make me jealous again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never shall, dearest. Our troubles are over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Edward, I have been very unhappy. I could not bear these doubts again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You shall never be unhappy again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must do what you require, I suppose. That is how it always ends. Oh
+      dear! oh dear!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zoe, it must be done. You know it must.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I warn you I shall do it as kindly as I can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you will. You ought to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must go in now. I feel very cold.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How soon to-morrow will you meet me here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When you please,&rdquo; said she, languidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At ten o'clock?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then there was a tender parting, and Zoe went slowly in. She went to her
+      own room, just to think it all over alone. She caught sight of her face in
+      the glass. Her cheeks had regained color, and her eyes were bright as
+      stars. She stopped and looked at herself. &ldquo;There now,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;and I
+      seem to myself to live again. I was mad to think I could ever love any man
+      but him. He is my darling, my idol.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no late dinner at Somerville Villa. Indeed, ladies, left to
+      themselves, seldom dine late. Nature is strong in them, and they are
+      hungriest when the sun is high. At seven o'clock Zoe Vizard was seated at
+      her desk trying to write to Lord Uxmoor. She sighed, she moaned, she
+      began, and dropped the pen and hid her face. She became almost wild; and
+      in that state she at last dashed off what follows:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DEAR LORD UXMOOR&mdash;For pity's sake, forgive the mad words I said to
+      you today. It is impossible. I can do no more than admire and esteem you.
+      My heart is gone from me forever. Pray forgive me, though I do not deserve
+      it; and never see me nor look at me again. I ask pardon for my
+      vacillation. It has been disgraceful; but it has ended, and I was under a
+      great error, which I cannot explain to you, when I led you to believe I
+      had a heart to give you. My eyes are opened. Our paths lie asunder. Pray,
+      pray forgive me, if it is possible. I will never forgive myself, nor cease
+      to bless and revere you, whom I have used so ill.
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;ZOE VIZARD.&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      That day Uxmoor dined alone with his mother, for a wonder, and he told her
+      how Miss Vizard had come round; he told her also about the bull, but so
+      vilely that she hardly comprehended he had been in any danger: these
+      encounters are rarely described to the life, except by us who avoid them&mdash;except
+      on paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Uxmoor was much pleased. She was a proud, politic lady, and this was
+      a judicious union of two powerful houses in the county, and one that would
+      almost command the elections. But, above all, she knew her son's heart was
+      in the match, and she gave him a mother's sympathy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she retired, she kissed him and said, &ldquo;When you are quite sure of the
+      prize, tell me, and I will call upon her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Being alone, Lord Uxmoor lighted a cigar and smoked it in measureless
+      content. The servant brought him a note on a salver. It had come by hand.
+      Uxmoor opened it and read every word straight through, down to &ldquo;Zoe
+      Vizard;&rdquo; read it, and sat petrified.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He read it again. He felt a sort of sickness come over him. He swallowed a
+      tumbler of port, a wine he rarely touched; but he felt worse now than
+      after the bullfight. This done, he rose and stalked like a wounded lion
+      into the drawing-room, which was on the same floor, and laid the letter
+      before his mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a woman too,&rdquo; said he, a little helplessly. &ldquo;Tell me&mdash;what
+      on earth does this mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The dowager read it slowly and keenly, and said, &ldquo;It means&mdash;another
+      man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said Uxmoor, with a sort of snarl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you seen any one about her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; not lately. At Vizard Court there was. But that is all over now, I
+      conclude. It was a Mr. Severne, an adventurer, a fellow that was caught
+      out in a lie before us all. Vizard tells me a lady came and claimed him
+      before Miss Vizard, and he ran away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An unworthy attachment, in short?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very unworthy, if it was an attachment at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was he at Vizard Court when she declined your hand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did he remain, after you went?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose so. Yes, he must have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then the whole thing is clear: that man has come forward again
+      unexpectedly, or written, and she dismisses you. My darling, there is but
+      one thing for you to do. Leave her, and thank her for telling you in time.
+      A less honorable fool would have hidden it, and then we might have had a
+      Countess of Uxmoor in the Divorce Court some day or other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had better go abroad,&rdquo; said Uxmoor, with a groan. &ldquo;This country is
+      poisoned for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go, by all means. Let Janneway pack up your things to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like to kill that fellow first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will not even waste a thought on him, if you are my son.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are right, mother. What am I to say to her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, not answer her letter? It is humble enough, I am sure&mdash;poor
+      soul! Mother, I am wretched, but I am not bitter, and my rival will
+      revenge me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uxmoor, your going abroad is the only answer she shall have. The wisest
+      man, in these matters, who ever lived has left a rule of conduct to every
+      well-born man&mdash;a rule which, believe me, is wisdom itself:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Le bruit est pour le fat, la plainte est pour le sot; L'honnete homme
+      trompe'; s'e'loigne, et ne dit mot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will make a tour, and not say a word to Miss Vizard, good, bad, nor
+      indifferent. I insist upon that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well. Thank you, dear mother; you guide me, and don't let me make a
+      fool of myself, for I am terribly cut up. You will be the only Countess of
+      Uxmoor in my day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he knelt at her feet, and she kissed his head and cried over him; but
+      her tears only made this proud lady stronger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day he started on his travels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, but for Zoe, he would on no account have left England just then; for
+      he was just going to build model cottages in his own village, upon designs
+      of his own, each with a little plot, and a public warehouse or granary,
+      with divisions for their potatoes and apples, etc. However, he turned this
+      over in his mind while he was packing; he placed certain plans and papers
+      in his dispatch box, and took his ticket to Taddington, instead of going
+      at once to London. From Taddington he drove over to Hillstoke and asked
+      for Miss Gale. They told him she was fixed at Vizard Court. That vexed
+      him: he did not want to meet Vizard. He thought it the part of a Jerry
+      Sneak to go and howl to a brother against his sister. Yet if Vizard
+      questioned him, how could he conceal there was something wrong? However,
+      he went down to Vizard Court; but said to the servant who opened the door,
+      &ldquo;I am rather in a hurry, sir: do you think you could procure me a few
+      minutes with Miss Gale? You need not trouble Mr. Vizard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, my laud. Certainly, my laud. Please step in the morning-room, my
+      laud. Mr. Vizard is out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That was fortunate, and Miss Gale came down to him directly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny took that opportunity to chatter and tell Mademoiselle Klosking all
+      about Lord Uxmoor and his passion for Zoe. &ldquo;And he will have her, too,&rdquo;
+       said she, boldly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Uxmoor told Miss Gale he had called upon business. He was obliged to
+      leave home for a time, and wished to place his projects under the care of
+      a person who could really sympathize with them, and make additions to
+      them, if necessary. &ldquo;Men,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;are always making oversights in
+      matters of domestic comfort: besides, you are full of ideas. I want you to
+      be viceroy with full power, and act just as you would if the village
+      belonged to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhoda colored high at the compliment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wells, cows, granary, real education&mdash;what you like&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I
+      know your mind. Begin abolishing the lower orders in the only way they can
+      be got rid of&mdash;by raising them in comfort, cleanliness, decency, and
+      knowledge. Then I shall not be missed. I'm going abroad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Going abroad?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Here are my plans: alter them for the better if you can. All the
+      work to be done by the villagers. Weekly wages. We buy materials. They
+      will be more reconciled to improved dwellings when they build them
+      themselves. Here are the addresses of the people who will furnish money.
+      It will entail traveling; but my people will always meet you at the
+      station, if you telegraph from Taddington. You accept? A thousand thanks.
+      I am afraid I must be off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She went into the hall with him, half bewildered, and only at the door
+      found time to ask after Zoe Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A little better, I think, than when she came.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does she know you are going abroad?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I don't think she does, yet. It was settled all in a hurry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He escaped further questioning by hurrying away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale was still looking after him, when Ina Klosking came down,
+      dressed for a walk, and leaning lightly on Miss Dover's arm. This was by
+      previous consent of Miss Gale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, dear,&rdquo; said Fanny, &ldquo;what did he say to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Something that has surprised and puzzled me very much.&rdquo; She then related
+      the whole conversation, with her usual precision.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina Klosking observed quietly to Fanny that this did not look like
+      successful wooing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know that,&rdquo; said Fanny, stoutly. &ldquo;Oh, Miss Gale, did you not ask
+      him about her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly I did; and he said she was better than when she first came.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There!&rdquo; said Fanny, triumphantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale gave her a little pinch, and she dropped the subject.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard returned, and found Mademoiselle Klosking walking on his gravel. He
+      offered her his arm, and was a happy man, parading her very slowly, and
+      supporting her steps, and purring his congratulations into her ear.
+      &ldquo;Suppose I were to invite you to dinner, what would you say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I should say, 'To-morrow.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And a very good answer, too. To-morrow shall be a <i>fete.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You spoil me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is impossible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was strange to see them together; he so happy, she so apathetic, yet
+      gracious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next morning came a bit of human nature&mdash;a letter from Zoe to Fanny,
+      almost entirely occupied with praises of Lord Uxmoor. She told the bull
+      story better than I have&mdash;if possible&mdash;and, in short, made
+      Uxmoor a hero of romance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny carried this in triumph to the other ladies, and read it out.
+      &ldquo;There!&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;Didn't I tell you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhoda read the letter, and owned herself puzzled. &ldquo;I am not, then,&rdquo; said
+      Fanny: &ldquo;they are engaged&mdash;over the bull; like Europa and I forgot who&mdash;and
+      so he is not afraid to go abroad now. That is just like the men. They cool
+      directly the chase is over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now the truth was that Zoe was trying to soothe her conscience with
+      elegant praises of the man she had dismissed, and felt guilty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina Klosking said little. She was puzzled too at first. She asked to see
+      Zoe's handwriting. The letter was handed to her. She studied the
+      characters. &ldquo;It is a good hand,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;nothing mean there.&rdquo; And she
+      gave it back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, with a glance, she had read the address, and learned that the post
+      town was Bagley.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All that day, at intervals, she brought her powerful understanding to bear
+      on the paradox; and though she had not the facts and the clew I have given
+      the reader, she came near the truth in an essential matter. She satisfied
+      herself that Lord Uxmoor was not engaged to Zoe Vizard. Clearly, if so, he
+      would not leave England for months. She resolved to know more; and just
+      before dinner she wrote a line to Ashmead, and requested him to call on
+      her immediately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That day she dined with Vizard and the ladies. She sat at Vizard's right
+      hand, and he told her how proud, and happy he was to see her there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She blushed faintly, but made no reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She retired soon after dinner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All next day she expected Ashmead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not come.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She dined with Vizard next day, and retired to the drawing-room. The piano
+      was opened, and she played one or two exquisite things, and afterward
+      tried her voice, but only in scales, and somewhat timidly, for Miss Gale
+      warned her she might lose it or spoil it if she strained the vocal chord
+      while her whole system was weak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day Ashmead came with apologies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had spent a day in the cathedral town on business. He did not tell her
+      how he had spent that day, going about puffing her as the greatest singer
+      of sacred music in the world, and paving the way to her engagement at the
+      next festival. Yet the single-hearted Joseph had really raised that
+      commercial superstructure upon the sentiments she had uttered on his first
+      visit to Vizard Court.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina now held a private conference with him. &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I have
+      heard you say you were once an actor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was, madam, and a very good one, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;Cela va sans dire.</i> I never knew one that was not. At all events,
+      you can disguise yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anything, madam, from Grandfather Whitehead to a boy in a pinafore.
+      Famous for my make-ups.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you to watch a certain house, and not be recognized by a person
+      who knows you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, madam, nothing is <i>infra dig,</i> if done for you; nothing is
+      distasteful if done for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, my friend. I have thought it well to put my instructions on
+      paper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, that is the best way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She handed him the instructions. He read them, and his eyes sparkled. &ldquo;Ah,
+      this is a commission I undertake with pleasure, and I'll execute it with
+      zeal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He left her, soon after, to carry out these instructions, and that very
+      evening he was in the wardrobe of the little theater, rummaging out a
+      suitable costume, and also in close conference with the wigmaker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day Vizard had his mother's sables taken out and aired, and drove
+      Mademoiselle Klosking into Taddington in an open carriage. Fanny told her
+      they were his mother's sables, and none to compare with them in the
+      country.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On returning, she tried her voice to the harmonium in her own antechamber,
+      and found it was gaining strength&mdash;like herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime Zoe Vizard met Severne in the garden, and told him she had
+      written to Lord Uxmoor, and he would never visit her again. But she did
+      not make light of the sacrifice this time. She had sacrificed her own
+      self-respect as well as Uxmoor's, and she was sullen and tearful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had to be very wary and patient, or she would have parted with him too,
+      and fled from both of them to her brother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Uxmoor's wounded pride would have been soothed could he have been present
+      at the first interview of this pair. He would have seen Severne treated
+      with a hauteur and a sort of savageness he himself was safe from, safe in
+      her unshaken esteem.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the world is made for those who can keep their temper, especially the
+      female part of the world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sad, kind, and loving, but never irritable, Severne smoothed down and
+      soothed and comforted the wounded girl; and, seeing her two or three times
+      a day&mdash;for she was completely mistress of her time&mdash;got her
+      completely into his power again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Uxmoor did not reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had made her selection. Love beckoned forward. It was useless to look
+      back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Love was omnipotent. They both began to recover their good looks as if by
+      magic; and as Severne's passion, though wicked, was earnest, no poor bird
+      was ever more completely entangled by bird-lime than Zoe was caught by
+      Edward Severne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Their usual place of meeting was the shrubbery attached to Somerville
+      Villa. The trees, being young, made all the closer shade, and the
+      gravel-walk meandered, and shut them out from view.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne used to enter this shrubbery by a little gate leading from the
+      meadow, and wait under the trees till Zoe came to him. Vizard's
+      advertisements alarmed him, and he used to see the coast clear before he
+      entered the shrubbery, and also before he left it. He was so particular in
+      this that, observing one day an old man doddering about with a basket, he
+      would not go in till he had taken a look at him. He found it was an
+      ancient white-haired villager gathering mushrooms. The old fellow was so
+      stiff, and his hand so trembling, that it took him about a minute to
+      gather a single fungus.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To give a reason for coming up to him, Severne said, &ldquo;How old are you, old
+      man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I be ninety, measter, next Martinmas-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only ninety?&rdquo; said our Adonis, contemptuously; &ldquo;you look a hundred and
+      ninety.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He would have been less contemptuous had he known that the mushrooms were
+      all toad-stools, and the village centenaire was Mr. Joseph Ashmead,
+      resuming his original arts, and playing Grandfather Whitehead on the green
+      grass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXV.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      MADEMOISELLE KLOSKING told Vizard the time drew near when she must leave
+      his hospitable house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say a month hence,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you will not stay to gratify me,&rdquo; said he, half sadly, half
+      bitterly. &ldquo;But you will have to stay a week or two longer <i>par
+      ordonnance du me'decin.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My physician is reconciled to my going. We must all bow to necessity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was said too firmly to admit a reply. &ldquo;The old house will seem very
+      dark again whenever you do go,&rdquo; said Vizard, plaintively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will soon be brightened by her who is its true and lasting light,&rdquo; was
+      the steady reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A day or two passed with nothing to record, except that Vizard hung about
+      Ina Klosking, and became, if possible, more enamored of her and more
+      unwilling to part with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Ashmead arrived one afternoon about three o'clock, and was more than
+      an hour with her. They conversed very earnestly, and when he went, Miss
+      Gale found her agitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This will not do,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will pass, my friend,&rdquo; said Ina. &ldquo;I will sleep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She laid herself down and slept three hours before dinner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She arose refreshed, and dined with the little party; and on retiring to
+      the drawing-room, she invited Vizard to join them at his convenience. He
+      made it his convenience in ten minutes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she opened the piano, played an introduction, and electrified them
+      all by singing the leading song in Siebel. She did not sing it so
+      powerfully as in the theater; she would not have done that even if she
+      could: but still she sung it out, and nobly. It seemed a miracle to hear
+      such singing in a room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard was in raptures.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They cooled suddenly when she reminded him what he had said, that she must
+      stay till she could sing Siebel's song. &ldquo;I keep to the letter of the
+      contract,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;My friends, this is my last night at Vizard Court.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please try and shake that resolution,&rdquo; said Vizard, gravely, to
+      Mesdemoiselles Dover and Gale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They cannot,&rdquo; said Ina. &ldquo;It is my destiny. And yet,&rdquo; said she, after a
+      pause, &ldquo;I would not have you remember me by that flimsy thing. Let me sing
+      you a song your mother loved; let me be remembered in this house, as a
+      singer, by that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she sung Handel's song:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What though I trace each herb and flower That decks the morning dew? Did
+      I not own Jehovah's power, How vain were all I knew.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She sung it with amazing purity, volume, grandeur, and power; the lusters
+      rang and shook, the hearts were thrilled, and the very souls of the
+      hearers ravished. She herself turned a little pale in singing it, and the
+      tears stood in her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The song and its interpretation were so far above what passes for music
+      that they all felt compliments would be an impertinence. Their eyes and
+      their long drawn breath paid the true homage to that great master rightly
+      interpreted&mdash;a very rare occurrence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;that was the hand could brandish Goliath's spear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And this is how you reconcile us to losing you,&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;You might
+      stay, at least, till you had gone through my poor mother's collection.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! I wish I could. But I cannot. I must not. My Fate forbids it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Fate' and 'destiny,'&rdquo; said Vizard, &ldquo;stuff and nonsense. We make our own
+      destiny. Mine is to be eternally disappointed, and happiness snatched out
+      of my hands.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had no sooner made this pretty speech than he was ashamed of it, and
+      stalked out of the room, not to say any more unwise things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This burst of spleen alarmed Fanny Dover. &ldquo;There,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;now you
+      cannot go. He is very angry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina Klosking said she was sorry for that; but he was too just a man to be
+      angry with her long: the day would come when he would approve her conduct.
+      Her lip quivered a little as she said this, and the water stood in her
+      eyes: and this was remembered and understood, long after, both by Miss
+      Dover and Rhoda Gale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When does your Royal Highness propose to start?&rdquo; inquired Rhoda Gale,
+      very obsequiously, and just a little bitterly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow at half-past nine o'clock, dear friend,&rdquo; said Ina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you will not go without me. You will get the better of Mr. Vizard,
+      because he is only a man; but I am a woman, and have a will as well as
+      you. If you make a journey to-morrow, I go with you. Deny me, and you
+      shan't go at all.&rdquo; Her eyes flashed defiance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina moved one step, took Rhoda's little defiant head, and kissed her
+      cheek. &ldquo;Sweet physician and kind friend, of course you shall go with me,
+      if you will, and be a great blessing to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This reconciled Miss Gale to the proceedings. She packed up a carpet-bag,
+      and was up early, making provisions of every sort for her patient's
+      journey: air pillows, soft warm coverings, medicaments, stimulants, etc.,
+      in a little bag slung across her shoulders. Thus furnished, and equipped
+      in a uniform suit of gray cloth and wideawake hat, she cut a very
+      sprightly and commanding figure, but more like Diana than Hebe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Klosking came down, a pale Juno, in traveling costume; and a quarter
+      of an hour before the time a pair-horse fly was at the door and Mr.
+      Ashmead in the hall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The ladies were both ready.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Vizard had not appeared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This caused an uneasy discussion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He must be very angry,&rdquo; said Fanny, in a half whisper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot go while he is,&rdquo; sighed La Klosking. &ldquo;There is a limit even to
+      my courage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Harris,&rdquo; said Rhoda, &ldquo;would you mind telling Mr. Vizard?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, miss,&rdquo; said Harris, softly, &ldquo;I did step in and tell him. Which he
+      told me to go to the devil, miss&mdash;a hobservation I never knew him to
+      make before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was not encouraging. Yet the Klosking quietly inquired where he was.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In there, ma'am,&rdquo; said Harris. &ldquo;In his study.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mademoiselle Klosking, placed between two alternatives, decided with her
+      usual resolution. She walked immediately to the door and tapped at it;
+      then, scarcely waiting for an instant, opened it and walked in with
+      seeming firmness, though her heart was beating rather high.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The people outside looked at one another. &ldquo;I wonder whether he will tell
+      <i>her</i> to go to the devil,&rdquo; said Fanny, who was getting tired of being
+      good.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No use,&rdquo; said Miss Gale; &ldquo;she doesn't know the road.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When La Klosking entered the study, Vizard was seated, disconsolate, with
+      two pictures before him. His face was full of pain, and La Klosking's
+      heart smote her. She moved toward him, hanging her head, and said, with
+      inimitable sweetness and tenderness, &ldquo;Here is a culprit come to try and
+      appease you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There came a time that he could hardly think of these words and her
+      penitent, submissive manner with dry eyes. But just then his black dog had
+      bitten him, and he said, sullenly, &ldquo;Oh, never mind me. It was always so.
+      Your sex have always made me smart for&mdash;If flying from my house
+      before you are half recovered gives you half the pleasure it gives me pain
+      and mortification, say no more about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! why say it gives me pleasure? my friend, you cannot really think so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know what to think. You ladies are all riddles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I must take you into my confidence, and, with some reluctance, I
+      own, let you know why I leave this dear, kind roof to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard's generosity took the alarm. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said, &ldquo;I will not extort your
+      reasons. It is a shame of me. Your bare will ought to be law in this
+      house; and what reasons could reconcile me to losing you so suddenly? You
+      are the joy of our eyes, the delight of our ears, the idol of all our
+      hearts. You will leave us, and there will be darkness and gloom, instead
+      of sunshine and song. Well, go; but you cannot soften the blow with
+      reasons.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mademoiselle Klosking flushed, and her bosom heaved; for this was a strong
+      man, greatly moved. With instinctive tact, she saw the best way to bring
+      him to his senses was to give him a good opening to retreat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, monsieur,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;you are <i>trop grand seigneur.</i> You
+      entertain a poor wounded singer in a chamber few princes can equal. You
+      place everything at her disposal; such a physician and nurse as no queen
+      can command; a choir to sing to her; royal sables to keep the wind from
+      her, and ladies to wait on her. And when you have brought her back to
+      life, you say to yourself, She is a woman; she will not be thoroughly
+      content unless you tell her she is adorable. So, out of politeness, you
+      descend to the language of gallantry. This was not needed. I dispense with
+      that kind of comfort. I leave your house because it is my duty, and leave
+      it your grateful servant and true friend to my last hour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She had opened the door, and Vizard could now escape. His obstinacy and
+      his heart would not let him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not fence with me,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Leave that to others. It is beneath you.
+      If you had been content to stay, I would have been content to show my
+      heart by halves. But when you offer to leave me, you draw from me an
+      avowal I can no longer restrain, and you must and shall listen to it. When
+      I saw you on the stage at Homburg, I admired you and loved you that very
+      night. But I knew from experience how seldom in women outward graces go
+      with the virtues of the soul. I distrusted my judgment. I feared you and I
+      fled you. But our destiny brought you here, and when I held you, pale and
+      wounded, in my very arms, my heart seemed to go out of my bosom.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no more! no more, pray!&rdquo; cried Mademoiselle Klosking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the current of love was not to be stemmed. &ldquo;Since that terrible hour I
+      have been in heaven, watching your gradual and sure recovery; but you have
+      recovered only to abandon me, and your hurry to leave me drives me to
+      desperation. No, I cannot part with you. You must not leave me, either
+      this day or any day. Give me your hand, and stay here forever, and be the
+      queen of my heart and of my house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For some time La Klosking had lost her usual composure. Her bosom heaved
+      tumultuously, and her hands trembled. But at this distinct proposal the
+      whole woman changed. She drew herself up, with her pale cheek flushing and
+      her eyes glittering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, sir?&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;Have you read me so ill? Do you not know I would
+      rather be the meanest drudge that goes on her knees and scrubs your
+      floors, than be queen of your house, as you call it? Ah, Jesu, are all men
+      alike, then; that he whom I have so revered, whose mother's songs I have
+      sung to him, makes me a proposal dishonorable to me and to himself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dishonorable!&rdquo; cried Vizard. &ldquo;Why, what can any man offer to any woman
+      more honorable than I offer you? I offer you my heart and my hand, and I
+      say, do not go, my darling. Stay here forever, and be my queen, my
+      goddess, my wife!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;YOUR WIFE?&rdquo; She stared wildly at him. &ldquo;Your wife? Am I dreaming, or are
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Neither. Do you think I can be content with less than that? Ina, I adore
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She put her hand to her head. &ldquo;I know not who is to blame for this,&rdquo; said
+      she, and she trembled visibly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll take the blame,&rdquo; said he, gayly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Said Ina, very gravely. &ldquo;You, who do me the honor to offer me your name,
+      have you asked yourself seriously what has been the nature of my relation
+      with Edward Severne?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo; cried Vizard, violently; &ldquo;and I do not mean to. I see you despise
+      him now; and I have my eyes and my senses to guide me in choosing a wife.
+      I choose you&mdash;if you will have me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She listened, then turned her moist eyes full upon him, and said to him,
+      &ldquo;This is the greatest honor ever befell me. I cannot take it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not take it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; but that is my misfortune. Do not be mortified. You have no rival in
+      my esteem. What shall I say, my friend?&mdash;at least I may call you
+      that. If I explain now, I shall weep much, and lose my strength. What
+      shall I do? I think&mdash;yes, that will be best&mdash;<i>you shall go
+      with me to-day.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To the end of the world!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Something tells me you will know all, and forgive me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall I take my bag?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You might take an evening dress and some linen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well. I won't keep you a moment,&rdquo; said he, and went upstairs with
+      great alacrity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She went into the hall, with her eyes bent on the ground, and was
+      immediately pinned by Rhoda Gale, whose piercing eye, and inquisitive
+      finger on her pulse, soon discovered that she had gone through a trying
+      scene. &ldquo;This is a bad beginning of an imprudent journey,&rdquo; said she: &ldquo;I
+      have a great mind to countermand the carriage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; said Ina; &ldquo;I will sleep in the railway and recover myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The ladies now got into the carriage; Ashmead insisted on going upon the
+      box; and Vizard soon appeared, and took his seat opposite Miss Gale and
+      Mademoiselle Klosking. The latter whispered her doctress: &ldquo;It would be
+      wise of me not to speak much at present.&rdquo; La Gale communicated this to
+      Vizard, and they drove along in dead silence. But they were naturally
+      curious to know where they were going; so they held some communication
+      with their eyes. They very soon found they were going to Taddington
+      Station.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then came a doubt&mdash;were they going up or down?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was soon resolved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Ashmead had hired a saloon carriage for them, with couches and
+      conveniences.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They entered it; and Mademoiselle Klosking said to Miss Gale, &ldquo;It is
+      necessary that I should sleep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You shall,&rdquo; said Miss Gale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While she was arranging the pillows and things, La Klosking said to
+      Vizard, &ldquo;We artists learn to sleep when we have work to do. Without it I
+      should not be strong enough this day.&rdquo; She said this in a half-apologetic
+      tone, as one anxious not to give him any shadow of offense.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was asleep in five minutes; and Miss Gale sat watching her at first,
+      but presently joined Vizard at the other end, and they whispered together.
+      Said she, &ldquo;What becomes of the theory that women have no strength of will?
+      There is Mademoiselle <i>Je le veux</i> in person. When she wants to
+      sleep, she sleeps; and look at you and me&mdash;do you know where we are
+      going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No more do I. The motive power is that personification of divine repose
+      there. How beautiful she is with her sweet lips parted, and her white
+      teeth peeping, and her upper and lower lashes wedded, and how graceful!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is a goddess,&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;I wish I had never seen her. Mark my
+      words, she will give me the sorest heart of all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope not,&rdquo; said Rhoda, very seriously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina slept sweetly for nearly two hours, and all that time her friends
+      could only guess where they were going.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last the train stopped, for the sixth time, and Ashmead opened the
+      door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This worthy, who was entirely in command of the expedition, collected the
+      luggage, including Vizard's bag, and deposited it at the station. He then
+      introduced the party to a pair-horse fly, and mounted the box.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When they stopped at Bagley, Vizard suspected where they were going.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he saw the direction the carriage took, he knew it, and turned very
+      grave indeed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He even regretted that he had put himself so blindly under the control of
+      a woman. He cast searching glances at Mademoiselle Klosking to try and
+      discover what on earth she was going to do. But her face was as
+      impenetrable as marble. Still, she never looked less likely to do anything
+      rash or in bad taste. Quietness was the main characteristic of her face,
+      when not rippled over by a ravishing sweetness; but he had never seen her
+      look so great, and lofty, and resolute as she looked now; a little stern,
+      too, as one who had a great duty to do, and was inflexible as iron. When
+      truly feminine features stiffen into marble like this, beauty is indeed
+      imperial, and worthy of epic song; it rises beyond the wing of prose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      My reader is too intelligent not to divine that she was steeling herself
+      to a terrible interview with Zoe Vizard&mdash;terrible mainly on account
+      of the anguish she knew she must inflict.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But we can rarely carry out our plans exactly as we trace them&mdash;unexpected
+      circumstances derange them or expand them; and I will so far anticipate as
+      to say that in this case a most unexpected turn of events took La Klosking
+      by surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Whether she proved equal to the occasion these pages will show very soon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVI.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      POIKILUS never left Taddington&mdash;only the &ldquo;Swan.&rdquo; More than once he
+      was within sight of Ashmead unobserved. Once, indeed, that gentleman, who
+      had a great respect for dignitaries, saluted him; for at that moment
+      Poikilus happened to be a sleek dignitary of the Church of England.
+      Poikilus, when quite himself, wore a mustache, and was sallow, and lean as
+      a weasel; but he shaved and stuffed and colored for the dean. Shovel-hat,
+      portly walk, and green spectacles did the rest. Grandfather Whitehead
+      saluted. His reverence chuckled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Poikilus kept Severne posted by letter and wire as to many things that
+      happened outside Vizard Court; but he could not divine the storm that was
+      brewing inside Ina Klosking's room. Yet Severne defended himself exactly
+      as he would have done had he known all. He and Zoe spent Elysian hours,
+      meeting twice a day in the shrubbery, and making love as if they were the
+      only two creatures in the world; but it was blind Elysium only to one of
+      them&mdash;Severne was uneasy and alarmed the whole time. His sagacity
+      showed him it could not last, and there was always a creeping terror on
+      him. Would not Uxmoor cause inquiries? Would he not be sure to tell
+      Vizard? Would not Vizard come there to look after Zoe, or order her back
+      to Vizard Court? Would not the Klosking get well, and interfere once more?
+      He passed the time between heaven and hell; whenever he was not under the
+      immediate spell of Zoe's presence, a sort of vague terror was always on
+      him. He looked all round him, wherever he went.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This terror, and his passion, which was now as violent as it was wicked,
+      soon drove him to conceive desperate measures. But, by masterly
+      self-government, he kept them two days to his own bosom. He felt it was
+      too soon to raise a fresh and painful discussion with Zoe. He must let her
+      drink unmixed delight, and get a taste for it; and then show her on what
+      conditions alone it could be had forever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was on the third day after their reconciliation she found him seated on
+      a bench in the shrubbery, lost in thought, and looking very dejected. She
+      was close to him before he noticed; then he sprung up, stared at her, and
+      began to kiss her hands violently, and even her very dress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is you,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;once more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, dear,&rdquo; said Zoe, tenderly; &ldquo;did you think I would not come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not know whether you could come. I feel that my happiness cannot
+      last long. And, Zoe dear, I have had a dream. I dreamed we were taken
+      prisoners, and carried to Vizard Court, and on the steps stood Vizard and
+      Mademoiselle Klosking arm-in-arm; I believe they were man and wife. And
+      you were taken out and led, weeping, into the house, and I was left there
+      raging with agony. And then that lady put out her finger in a commanding
+      way, and I was whirled away into utter darkness, and I heard you moan, and
+      I fought, and dashed my head against the carriage, and I felt my heart
+      burst, and my whole body filled with some cold liquid, and I went to
+      sleep, and I heard a voice say, 'It is all over; his trouble is ended.' I
+      was dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This narrative, and his deep dejection, set Zoe's tears flowing. &ldquo;Poor
+      Edward!&rdquo; she sighed. &ldquo;I would not survive you. But cheer up, dear; it was
+      only a dream. We are not slaves. I am not dependent on any one. How can we
+      be parted?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shall, unless we use our opportunity, and make it impossible to part
+      us. Zoe, do not slight my alarm and my misgivings; such warnings are
+      prophetic. For Heaven's sake, make one sacrifice more, and let us place
+      our happiness beyond the reach of man!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only tell me how.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is but one way&mdash;marriage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe blushed high, and panted a little, but said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said he, piteously, &ldquo;I ask too much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can you say that?&rdquo; said Zoe. &ldquo;Of course I shall marry you, dearest.
+      What! do you think I could do what I <i>have</i> done for anybody but my
+      husband that is to be?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was mad to think otherwise,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;but I am in low spirits, and
+      full of misgivings. Oh, the comfort, the bliss, the peace of mind, the
+      joy, if you would see our hazardous condition, and make all safe by
+      marrying me to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow! Why, Edward, are you mad? How can we be married, so long as my
+      brother is so prejudiced against you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If we wait his consent, we are parted forever. He would forgive us after
+      it&mdash;that is certain. But he would never consent. He is too much under
+      the influence of his&mdash;of Mademoiselle Klosking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed, I cannot hope he will consent beforehand,&rdquo; sighed Zoe; &ldquo;but I
+      have not the courage to defy him; and if I had, we could not marry all in
+      a moment, like that. We should have to be cried in church.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is quite gone out among ladies and gentlemen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not in our family. Besides, even a special license takes time, I suppose.
+      Oh no, I could not be married in a clandestine, discreditable way. I am a
+      Vizard&mdash;please remember that. Would you degrade the woman you honor
+      with your choice?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And her red cheeks and flashing eyes warned him to desist.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;God forbid!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;If that is the alternative, I consent to lose her&mdash;and
+      lose her I shall.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He then affected to dismiss the subject, and said, &ldquo;Let me enjoy the hours
+      that are left me. Much misery or much bliss can be condensed in a few
+      days. I will enjoy the blessed time, and we will wait for the chapter of
+      accidents that is sure to part us.&rdquo; Then he acted reckless happiness, and
+      broke down at last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She cried, but showed no sign of yielding. Her pride and self-respect were
+      roused and on their defense.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next day he came to her quietly sad. He seemed languid and listless,
+      and to care for nothing. He was artful enough to tell her, on the
+      information of Poikilus, that Vizard had hired the cathedral choir three
+      times a week to sing to his inamorata; and that he had driven her about
+      Taddington, dressed like a duchess, in a whole suit of sables.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that word the girl turned pale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He observed, and continued: &ldquo;And it seems these sables are known
+      throughout the county. There were several carriages in the town, and my
+      informant heard a lady say they were Mrs. Vizard's sables, worth five
+      hundred guineas&mdash;a Russian princess gave them her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is quite true,&rdquo; said Zoe. &ldquo;His mother's sables! Is it possible!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They all say he is caught at last, and this is to be the next Mrs.
+      Vizard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They may well say so, if he parades her in his mother's sables,&rdquo; said
+      Zoe, and could not conceal her jealousy and her indignation. &ldquo;I never
+      dared so much as ask his permission to wear them,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if you had, he would have told you the relics of a saint were not to
+      be played with.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is just what he would have said, I do believe.&rdquo; The female heart was
+      stung.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, well,&rdquo; said Severne, &ldquo;I am sure I should not grudge him his
+      happiness, if you would see things as he does, and be as brave as he is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Zoe. &ldquo;Women cannot defy the world as men do.&rdquo; Then,
+      passionately, &ldquo;Why do you torment me so? why do you urge me so? a poor
+      girl, all alone, and far from advice. What on earth would you have me do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Secure us against another separation, unite us in bliss forever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so I would if I could; you know I would. But it is impossible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Zoe; it is easy. There are two ways: we can reach Scotland in eight
+      hours; and there, by a simple writing and declaration before witnesses, we
+      are man and wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A Gretna Green marriage?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is just as much a legal marriage as if a bishop married us at St.
+      Paul's. However, we could follow it up immediately by marriage in a
+      church, either in Scotland or the North of England But there is another
+      way: we can be married at Bagley, any day, before the registrar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that a marriage&mdash;a real marriage?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As real, as legal, as binding as a wedding in St. Paul's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody in this county has ever been married so. I should blush to be seen
+      about after it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our first happy year would not be passed in this country. We should go
+      abroad for six months.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, fly from shame.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On our return we should be received with open arms by my own people in
+      Huntingdonshire, until your people came round, as they always do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He then showed her a letter, in which his pearl of a cousin said they
+      would receive his wife with open arms, and make her as happy as they
+      could. Uncle Tom was coming home from India, with two hundred thousand
+      pounds; he was a confirmed old bachelor, and Edward his favorite, etc.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe faltered a little: so then he pressed her hard with love, and
+      entreaties, and promises, and even hysterical tears; then she began to cry&mdash;a
+      sure sign of yielding. &ldquo;Give me time,&rdquo; she said&mdash;&ldquo;give me time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He groaned, and said there was no time to lose. Otherwise he never would
+      have urged her so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For all that, she could not be drawn to a decision. She must think over
+      such a step. Next morning, at the usual time, he came to know his fate.
+      But she did not appear. He waited an hour for her. She did not come. He
+      began to rage and storm, and curse his folly for driving her so hard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last she came, and found him pale with anxiety, and looking utterly
+      miserable. She told him she had passed a sleepless night, and her head had
+      ached so in the morning she could not move.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My poor darling!&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;and I am the cause. Say no more about it,
+      dear one. I see you do not love me as I love you, and I forgive you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She smiled sadly at that, for she was surer of her own love than his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe had passed a night of torment and vacillation; and but for her brother
+      having paraded Mademoiselle Klosking in his mother's sables, she would, I
+      think, have held out. But this turned her a little against her brother;
+      and, as he was the main obstacle to her union with Severne, love and pity
+      conquered. Yet still Honor and Pride had their say. &ldquo;Edward,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I
+      love you with all my heart, and share your fears that accident may
+      separate us. I will let you decide for both of us. But, before you decide,
+      be warned of one thing. I am a girl no longer, but a woman who has been
+      distracted with many passions. If any slur rests on my fair name, deeply
+      as I love you now, I shall abhor you then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned pale, for her eye flashed dismay into his craven soul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He said nothing; and she continued: &ldquo;If you insist on this hasty,
+      half-clandestine marriage, then I consent to this&mdash;I will go with you
+      before the registrar, and I shall come back here directly. Next morning
+      early we will start for Scotland, and be married that other way before
+      witnesses. Then your fears will be at an end, for you believe in these
+      marriages; only as I do not&mdash;for I look on these <i>legal</i>
+      marriages merely as solemn betrothals&mdash;I shall be Miss Zoe Vizard,
+      and expect you to treat me so, until I have been married in a church, like
+      a lady.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you shall,&rdquo; said he; and overwhelmed her with expressions of
+      gratitude, respect, and affection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This soothed her troubled mind, and she let him take her hand and pour his
+      honeyed flatteries into her ear, as he walked her slowly up and down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She could hardly tear herself away from the soft pressure of his hand and
+      the fascination of his tongue, and she left him, more madly in love with
+      him than ever, and ready to face anything but dishonor for him. She was to
+      come out at twelve o'clock, and walk into Bagley with him to betroth
+      herself to him, as she chose to consider it, before the stipendiary
+      magistrate, who married couples in that way. Of the two marriages she had
+      consented to, merely as preliminaries to a real marriage, Zoe despised
+      this the most; for the Scotch marriage was, at all events, ancient, and
+      respectable lovers had been driven to it again and again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was behind her time, and Severne thought her courage had failed her,
+      after all. But no: at half-past twelve she came out, and walked briskly
+      toward Bagley.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was behind her, and followed her. She took his arm nervously. &ldquo;Let me
+      feel you all the way,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;to give me courage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So they walked arm-in-arm; and, as they went, his courage secretly
+      wavered, her's rose at every step.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      About half a mile from the town they met a carriage and pair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At sight of them a gentleman on the box tapped at the glass window, and
+      said, hurriedly, &ldquo;Here they are <i>together.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mademoiselle Klosking said, &ldquo;Stop the carriage&rdquo;: then, pausing a little,
+      &ldquo;Mr. Vizard&mdash;on your word of honor, no violence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The carriage was drawn up, Ashmead opened the door in a trice, and La
+      Klosking, followed by Vizard, stepped out, and stood like a statue before
+      Edward Severne and Zoe Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne dropped her arm directly, and was panic-stricken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe uttered a little scream at the sight of Vizard; but the next moment
+      took fire at her rival's audacity, and stepped boldly before her lover,
+      with flashing eyes and expanded nostrils that literally breathed defiance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;YOU infernal scoundrel!&rdquo; roared Vizard, and took a stride toward Severne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No violence,&rdquo; said Ina Klosking, sternly: &ldquo;it will be an insult to this
+      lady and me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, then,&rdquo; said Vizard, grimly, &ldquo;I must wait till I catch him
+      alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Meantime, permit me to speak, sir,&rdquo; said Ina. &ldquo;Believe me, I have a
+      better right than even you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then pray ask my sister why I find her on that villain's arm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should not answer her,&rdquo; said Zoe, haughtily. &ldquo;But my brother I will.
+      Harrington, all this vulgar abuse confirms me in my choice: I take his arm
+      because I have accepted his hand. I am going into Bagley with him to
+      become his wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This announcement took away Vizard's breath for a moment, and Ina Klosking
+      put in her word. &ldquo;You cannot do that: pray he warned. He is leading you to
+      infamy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Infamy! What, because he cannot give me a suit of sables? Infamy! because
+      we prefer virtuous poverty to vice and wealth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, young lady,&rdquo; said Ina, coloring faintly at the taunt; &ldquo;but because
+      you could only be his paramour; not his wife. He is married already.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At these words, spoken with that power Ina Klosking could always command,
+      Zoe Vizard turned ashy pale. But she fought on bravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Married? It is false! To whom?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought so. Now I know it is not true. He left you months before we
+      ever knew him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look at him. He does not say it is false.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe turned on Severne, and at his face her own heart quaked. &ldquo;Are you
+      married to this lady?&rdquo; she asked; and her eyes, dilated to their full
+      size, searched his every feature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not that I know of,&rdquo; said he, impudently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that the serious answer you expected, Miss Vizard?&rdquo; said Ina, keenly:
+      then to Severne, &ldquo;You are unwise to insult the woman on whom, from this
+      day, you must depend for bread. Miss Vizard, to you I speak, and not to
+      this shameless man. For your mother's sake, do me justice. I have loved
+      him dearly; but now I abhor him. Would I could break the tie that binds us
+      and give him to you, or to any lady who would have him! But I cannot. And
+      shall I hold my tongue, and let you be ruined and dishonored? I am an
+      older woman than you, and bound by gratitude to all your house. Dear lady,
+      I have taxed my strength to save you. I feel that strength waning. Pray
+      read this paper, and consent to save <i>yourself.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will read it,&rdquo; said Rhoda Gale, interfering. &ldquo;I know German. It is an
+      authorized duplicate certifying the marriage of Edward Severne, of
+      Willingham, in Huntingdonshire, England, to Ina Ferris, daughter of Walter
+      Ferris and Eva Klosking, of Zutzig, in Denmark. The marriage was
+      solemnized at Berlin, and here are the signatures of several witnesses:
+      Eva Klosking; Fraulein Graafe; Zug, the Capellmeister; Vicomte Meurice,
+      French <i>attache';</i> Count Hompesch, Bavarian plenipotentiary; Herr
+      Formes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina explained, in a voice that was now feeble, &ldquo;I was a public character;
+      my marriage was public: not like the clandestine union which is all he
+      dared offer to this well-born lady.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Bavarian and French ministers are both in London,&rdquo; said Vizard,
+      eagerly. &ldquo;We can easily learn if these signatures are forged, like <i>your</i>
+      acceptances.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But, if one shadow of doubt remained, Severne now removed it; he uttered a
+      scream of agony, and fled as if the demons of remorse and despair were
+      spurring him with red-hot rowels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, you little idiot!&rdquo; roared Vizard; &ldquo;does that open you eyes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Vizard,&rdquo; said Ina, reproachfully, &ldquo;for pity's sake, think only of
+      her youth, and what she has to suffer. I can do no more for her: I feel&mdash;so&mdash;faint.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead and Rhoda supported her into the carriage. Vizard, touched to the
+      heart by Ina's appeal, held out his eloquent arms to his stricken sister,
+      and she tottered to him, and clung to him, all limp and broken, and
+      wishing she could sink out of the sight of all mankind. He put his strong
+      arm round her, and, though his own heart was desolate and broken, he
+      supported that broken flower of womanhood, and half led, half lifted her
+      on, until he laid her on a sofa in Somerville Villa. Then, for the first
+      time, he spoke to her. &ldquo;We are both desolate, now, my child. Let us love
+      one another. I will be ten times tenderer to you than I ever have been.&rdquo;
+       She gave a great sob, but she was past speaking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina Klosking, Miss Gale, and Ashmead returned in the carriage to Bagley.
+      Half a mile out of the town they found a man lying on the pathway, with
+      his hat off, and white as a sheet. It was Edward Severne. He had run till
+      he dropped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead got down and examined him. He came back to the carriage door,
+      looking white enough himself. &ldquo;It is all over,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;the man is
+      dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale was out in a moment and examined him. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;The heart
+      does not beat perceptibly; but he breathes. It is another of those
+      seizures. Help me get him into the carriage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was done, and the driver ordered to go a foot's pace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The stimulants Miss Gale had brought for Ina Klosking were now applied to
+      revive this malefactor; and both ladies actually ministered to him with
+      compassionate faces. He was a villain; but he was superlatively handsome,
+      and a feather might turn the scale of life or death.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The seizure, though really appalling to look at, did not last long. He
+      revived a little in the carriage, and was taken, still insensible, but
+      breathing hard, into a room in the railway hotel. When he was out of
+      danger, Miss Gale felt Ina Klosking's pulse, and insisted on her going to
+      Taddington by the next train and leaving Severne to the care of Mr.
+      Ashmead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina, who, in truth, was just then most unfit for any more trials, feebly
+      consented, but not until she had given Ashmead some important instructions
+      respecting her malefactor, and supplied him with funds. Miss Gale also
+      instructed Ashmead how to proceed in case of a relapse, and provided him
+      with materials.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The ladies took a train, which arrived soon after; and, being so fortunate
+      as to get a lady's carriage all to themselves, they sat intertwined and
+      rocking together, and Ina Klosking found relief at last in a copious flow
+      of tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhoda got her to Hillstoke, cooked for her, nursed her, lighted fires,
+      aired her bed, and these two friends slept together in each other's arms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead had a hard time of it with Severne. He managed pretty well with
+      him at first, because he stupefied him with brandy before he had come to
+      his senses, and in that state got him into the next train. But as the
+      fumes wore off, and Severne realized his villainy, his defeat, and his
+      abject condition between the two women he had wronged, he suddenly uttered
+      a yell and made a spring at the window. Ashmead caught him by his calves,
+      and dragged him so powerfully down that his face struck the floor hard and
+      his nose bled profusely. The hemorrhage and the blow quieted him for a
+      time, and then Ashmead gave him more brandy, and got him to the &ldquo;Swan&rdquo; in
+      a half-lethargic lull. This faithful agent, and man of all work, took a
+      private sitting room with a double bedded room adjoining it, and ordered a
+      hot supper with champagne and madeira. Severne lay on a sofa moaning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The waiter stared. &ldquo;Trouble!&rdquo; whispered Ashmead, confidentially. &ldquo;Take no
+      notice. Supper as quick as possible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      By-and-by Severne started up and began to rave and tear about the room,
+      cursing his hard fate, and ended in a kind of hysterical fit. Ashmead,
+      being provided by Miss Gale with salts and aromatic vinegar, etc., applied
+      them, and ended by dashing a tumbler of water right into his face, which
+      did him more good than chemistry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he tried to awaken manhood in the fellow. &ldquo;What are <i>you</i>
+      howling about?&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Why, you are the only sinner, and you are the
+      least sufferer. Come, drop sniveling, and eat a bit. Trouble don't do on
+      an empty stomach.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne said he would try, but begged the waiter might not be allowed to
+      stare at a broken-hearted man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Broken fiddlesticks!&rdquo; said honest Joe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne tried to eat, but could not. But he could drink, and said so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead gave him champagne in tumblers, and that, on his empty stomach,
+      set him raving, and saying life was hell to him now. But presently he fell
+      to weeping bitterly. In which condition Ashmead forced him to bed, and
+      there he slept heavily. In the morning Ashmead sat by his bedside, and
+      tried to bring him to reason. &ldquo;Now, look here,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;you are a lucky
+      fellow, if you will only see it. You have escaped bigamy and a jail, and,
+      as a reward for your good conduct to your wife, and the many virtues you
+      have exhibited in a short space of time, I am instructed by that lady to
+      pay you twenty pounds every Saturday at twelve o'clock. It is only a
+      thousand a year; but don't you be down-hearted; I conclude she will raise
+      your salary as you advance. You must forge her name to a heavy check, rob
+      a church, and abduct a schoolgirl or two&mdash;misses in their teens and
+      wards of Chancery preferred&mdash;and she will make it thirty, no doubt;&rdquo;
+       and Joe looked very sour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That for her twenty pounds a week!&rdquo; cried this injured man. &ldquo;She owes me
+      two thousand pounds and more. She has been my enemy, and her own. The
+      fool!&mdash;to go and peach! She had only to hold her tongue, and be Mrs.
+      Vizard, and then she would have had a rich husband that adores her, and I
+      should have had my darling beautiful Zoe, the only woman I ever loved or
+      ever shall.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said Ashmead, &ldquo;then you expected your wife to commit bigamy, and so
+      make it smooth to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;Of course I did,&rdquo;</i> was the worthy Severne' s reply; &ldquo;and so she
+      would, if she had had a grain of sense. See what a contrast now. We are
+      all unhappy&mdash;herself included&mdash;and it is all her doing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, young man,&rdquo; said Ashmead, drawing a long breath; &ldquo;didn't I tell you
+      you are a lucky fellow? You have got twenty pounds a week, and that blest
+      boon, 'a conscience void of offense.' You are a happy man. Here's a strong
+      cup of tea for you: just you drink it, and then get up and take the train
+      to the little village. There kindred spirits and fresh delights await you.
+      You are not to adorn Barfordshire any longer: that is the order.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'll go to London&mdash;but not without you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me! What do you want of <i>me?&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a good fellow, and the only friend I have left. But for you, I
+      should be dead, or mad. You have pulled me through.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Through the window I did. Lord, forgive me for it,&rdquo; said Joseph. &ldquo;Well,
+      I'll go up to town with you; but I can't be always tied to your tail. I
+      haven't got twenty pounds a week. To be sure,&rdquo; he added, dryly, &ldquo;I haven't
+      earned it. That is one comfort.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He telegraphed Hillstoke, and took Severne up to London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There the Bohemian very soon found he could live, and even derive some
+      little enjoyment from his vices&mdash;without Joseph Ashmead. He visited
+      him punctually every Saturday, and conversed delightfully. If he came any
+      other day, it was sure to be for an advance: he never got it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVIII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      FANNY DOVER was sent for directly to Somerville Villa; and, three days
+      after the distressing scene I have endeavored to describe, Vizard brought
+      his wrecked sister home. Her condition was pitiable; and the moment he
+      reached Vizard Court he mounted his horse and rode to Hillstoke to bring
+      Miss Gale down to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There he found Ina Klosking, with her boxes at the door, waiting for the
+      fly that was to take her away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a sad interview. He thanked her deeply for her noble conduct to his
+      sister, and then he could not help speaking of his own disappointment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mademoiselle Klosking, on this occasion, was simple, sad, and even tender,
+      within prudent limits. She treated this as a parting forever, and
+      therefore made no secret of her esteem for him. &ldquo;But,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I hope
+      one day to hear you have found a partner worthy of you. As for me, who am
+      tied for life to one I despise, and can never love again, I shall seek my
+      consolation in music, and, please God, in charitable actions.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He kissed her hand at parting, and gave her a long, long look of miserable
+      regret that tried her composure hard, and often recurred to her memory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She went up to London, took a small suburban house, led a secluded life,
+      and devoted herself to her art, making a particular study now of sacred
+      music; she collected volumes of it, and did not disdain to buy it at
+      bookstalls, or wherever she could find it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead worked for her, and she made her first appearance in a new
+      oratorio. Her songs proved a principal feature in the performance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Events did not stand still in Barfordshire; but they were tame, compared
+      with those I have lately related, and must be dispatched in fewer words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Maitland recovered unexpectedly from a severe illness, and was a
+      softened woman: she sent Fanny off to keep Zoe company. That poor girl had
+      a bitter time, and gave Doctress Gale great anxiety. She had no brain
+      fever, but seemed quietly, insensibly, sinking into her grave. No
+      appetite, and indeed was threatened with atrophy at one time. But she was
+      so surrounded with loving-kindness that her shame diminished, her pride
+      rose, and at last her agony was blunted, and only a pensive languor
+      remained to show that she had been crushed, and could not be again the
+      bright, proud, high-spirited beauty of Barfordshire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For many months she never mentioned either Edward Severne, Ina Klosking,
+      or Lord Uxmoor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a long time before she went outside the gates of her own park. She
+      seemed to hate the outer world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her first visit was to Miss Gale; that young lady was now very happy. She
+      had her mother with her. Mrs. Gale had defeated the tricky executor, and
+      had come to England with a tidy little capital, saved out of the fire by
+      her sagacity and spirit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Gale's character has been partly revealed by her daughter. I have
+      only to add she was a homely, well-read woman, of few words, but those few&mdash;grape-shot.
+      Example&mdash;she said to Zoe, &ldquo;Young lady, excuse an old woman's freedom,
+      who might be your mother: the troubles of young folk have a deal of self
+      in them; more than you could believe. Now just you try something to take
+      you out of self, and you will be another creature.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; sighed Zoe, &ldquo;would to Heaven I could!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said Mrs. Gale, &ldquo;anybody with money can do it, and the world so full
+      of real trouble. Now, my girl tells me you are kind to the poor: why not
+      do something like Rhoda is doing for this lord she is overseer, or
+      goodness knows what, to?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhoda (defiantly), &ldquo;Viceroy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have money, and your brother will not refuse you a bit o' land. Why
+      not build some of these new-fangled cottages, with fancy gardens, and
+      dwarf palaces for a cow and a pig? Rhoda, child, if I was a poor woman, I
+      could graze a cow in the lanes hereabouts, and feed a pig in the woods.
+      Now you do that for the poor, Miss Vizard, and don't let my girl think for
+      you. Breed your own ideas. That will divert you from self, my dear, and
+      you will begin to find it&mdash;there&mdash;just as if a black cloud was
+      clearing away from your mind, and letting your heart warm again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe caught at the idea, and that very day asked Vizard timidly whether he
+      would let her have some land to build a model cottage or two on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Will it be believed that the good-natured Vizard made a wry face? &ldquo;What,
+      two proprietors in Islip!&rdquo; For a moment or two he was all squire. But soon
+      the brother conquered. &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I can't give you a fee-simple; I
+      must think of my heirs: but I will hold a court, and grant you a
+      copy-hold; or I'll give you a ninety-nine years' lease at a pepper-corn.
+      There's a slip of three acres on the edge of the Green. You shall amuse
+      yourself with that.&rdquo; He made it over to her directly, for a century, at
+      ten shillings a year; and, as he was her surviving trustee, he let her
+      draw in advance on her ten thousand pounds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mapping out the ground with Rhoda, settling the gardens and the miniature
+      pastures, and planning the little houses and outhouses, and talking a
+      great deal, compared with what she transacted, proved really a certain
+      antidote to that lethargy of woe which oppressed her: and here, for a
+      time, I must leave her, returning slowly to health of body, and some
+      tranquillity of mind; but still subject to fits of shame, and gnawed by
+      bitter regrets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIX.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THE reputation Mademoiselle Klosking gained in the new oratorio, aided by
+      Ashmead's exertions, launched her in a walk of art that accorded with her
+      sentiments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She sung in the oratorio whenever it could be performed, and also sung
+      select songs from it, and other sacred songs at concerts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was engaged at a musical festival in the very cathedral town whose
+      choir had been so consoling to her. She entered with great zeal into this
+      engagement, and finding there was a general desire to introduce the
+      leading chorister-boy to the public in a duet, she surprised them all by
+      offering to sing the second part with him, if he would rehearse it
+      carefully with her at her lodgings. He was only too glad, as might be
+      supposed. She found he had a lovely voice, but little physical culture. He
+      read correctly, but did not even know the nature of the vocal instrument
+      and its construction, which is that of a bagpipe. She taught him how to
+      keep his lungs full in singing, yet not to gasp, and by this simple means
+      enabled him to sing with more than twice the power he had ever exercised
+      yet. She also taught him the swell, a figure of music he knew literally
+      nothing about.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When, after singing a great solo, to salvos of applause, Mademoiselle
+      Klosking took the second part with this urchin, the citizens and all the
+      musical people who haunt a cathedral were on the tiptoe of expectation.
+      The boy amazed them, and the rich contralto that supported him and rose
+      and swelled with him in ravishing harmony enchanted them. The vast
+      improvement in the boy's style did not escape the hundreds of persons who
+      knew him, and this duet gave La Klosking a great personal popularity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her last song, by her own choice, was, &ldquo;What though I trace&rdquo; (Handel), and
+      the majestic volume that rang through the echoing vault showed with what a
+      generous spirit she had subdued that magnificent organ not to crush her
+      juvenile partner in the preceding duet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Among the persons present was Harrington Vizard. He had come there against
+      his judgment; but he could not help it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had been cultivating a dull tranquillity, and was even beginning his
+      old game of railing on women, as the great disturbers of male peace. At
+      the sight of her, and the sound of her first notes, away went his
+      tranquillity, and he loved her as ardently as ever. But when she sung his
+      mother's favorite, and the very roof rang, and three thousand souls were
+      thrilled and lifted to heaven by that pure and noble strain, the rapture
+      could not pass away from this one heart; while the ear ached at the
+      cessation of her voice, the heart also ached, and pined, and yearned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He ceased to resist. From that day he followed her about to her public
+      performances all over the Midland Counties; and she soon became aware of
+      his presence. She said nothing till Ashmead drew her attention; then,
+      being compelled to notice it, she said it was a great pity. Surely he must
+      have more important duties at home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead wanted to recognize him, and put him into the best place vacant;
+      but La Klosking said, &ldquo;No. I will be more his friend than to lend him the
+      least encouragement.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the end of that tour she returned to London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While she was there in her little suburban house, she received a visit
+      from Mr. Edward Severne. He came to throw himself at her feet and beg
+      forgiveness. She said she would try and forgive him. He then implored her
+      to forget the past. She told him that was beyond her power. He persisted,
+      and told her he had come to his senses; all his misconduct now seemed a
+      hideous dream, and he found he had never really loved any one but her. So
+      then he entreated her to try him once more; to give him back the treasure
+      of her love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She listened to him like a woman of marble. &ldquo;Love where I despise!&rdquo; said
+      she. &ldquo;Never. The day has gone by when these words can move me. Come to me
+      for the means of enjoying yourself&mdash;gambling, drinking, and your
+      other vices&mdash;and I shall indulge you. But do not profane the name of
+      love. I forbid you ever to enter my door on that errand. I presume you
+      want money. There is a hundred pounds. Take it; and keep out of my sight
+      till you have wasted it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He dashed the notes proudly down. She turned her back on him, and glided
+      into another room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she returned, he was gone, and the hundred pounds had managed to
+      accompany him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went straight from her to Ashmead and talked big. He would sue for
+      restitution of conjugal rights.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't do that, for my sake,&rdquo; said Ashamed. &ldquo;She will fly the country like
+      a bird, and live in some village on bread and milk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I would not do you an ill turn for the world,&rdquo; said the Master of
+      Arts. &ldquo;You have been a kind friend to me. You saved my life. It is
+      imbittered by remorse, and recollections of the happiness I have thrown
+      away, and the heart I have wronged. No matter!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This visit disturbed La Klosking, and disposed her to leave London. She
+      listened to a brilliant offer that was made her, through Ashmead, by the
+      manager of the Italian Opera, who was organizing a provincial tour. The
+      tour was well advertised in advance, and the company opened to a grand
+      house at Birmingham.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mademoiselle Klosking had not been long on the stage when she discovered
+      her discarded husband in the stalls, looking the perfection of youthful
+      beauty. The next minute she saw Vizard in a private box. Mr. Severne
+      applauded her loudly, and flung her a bouquet. Mr. Vizard fixed his eyes
+      on her, beaming with admiration, but made no public demonstration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The same incident repeated itself every night she sung, and at every town.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last she spoke about it to Ashmead, in the vague, suggestive way her
+      sex excels in. &ldquo;I presume you have observed the people in front.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, madam. Two in particular.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Could you not advise him to desist?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which of 'em, madam?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Vizard, of course. He is losing his time, and wasting sentiments it
+      is cruel should be wasted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead said he dared not take any liberty with Mr. Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So the thing went on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne made acquaintance with the manager, and obtained the <i>entre'e</i>
+      behind the scenes. He brought his wife a bouquet every night, and
+      presented it to her with such reverence and grace, that she was obliged to
+      take it and courtesy, or seem rude to the people about.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she wrote to Miss Gale and begged her to come if she could.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale, who had all this time been writing her love-letters twice a
+      week, immediately appointed her mother viceroy, and went to her friend.
+      Ina Klosking explained the situation to her with a certain slight timidity
+      and confusion not usual to her; and said, &ldquo;Now, dear, you have more
+      courage than the rest of us; and I know he has a great respect for you;
+      and, indeed, Miss Dover told me he would quite obey you. Would it not be
+      the act of a friend to advise him to cease this unhappy&mdash;What good
+      can come of it? He neglects his own duties, and disturbs me in mine. I
+      sometimes ask myself would it not be kinder of me to give up my business,
+      or practice it elsewhere&mdash;Germany, or even Italy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does he call on you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does he write to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no. I wish he would. Because then I should be able to reply like a
+      true friend, and send him away. Consider, dear, it is not like a nobody
+      dangling after a public singer; that is common enough. We are all run
+      after by idle men; even Signorina Zubetta, who has not much voice, nor
+      appearance, and speaks a Genoese patois when she is not delivering a
+      libretto. But for a gentleman of position, with a heart of gold and the
+      soul of an emperor, that he should waste his time and his feelings so, on
+      a woman who can never be anything to him, it is pitiable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but, after all, it is his business; and he is not a child: besides,
+      remember he is really very fond of music. If I were you I'd look another
+      way, and take no notice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I cannot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! And why not, pray?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because he always takes a box on my left hand, two from the stage. I
+      can't think how he gets it at all the theaters. And then he fixes his eyes
+      on me so, I cannot help stealing a look. He never applauds, nor throws me
+      bouquets. He looks: oh, you cannot conceive how he looks, and the strange
+      effect it is beginning to produce on me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He mesmerizes you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know not. But it is a growing fascination. Oh, my dear physician,
+      interfere. If it goes on, we shall be more wretched than ever.&rdquo; Then she
+      enveloped Rhoda in her arms, and rested a hot cheek against hers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see,&rdquo; said Rhoda. &ldquo;You are afraid he will make you love him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope not. But artists are impressionable; and being looked at so, by
+      one I esteem, night after night, when my nerves are strung&mdash;<i>cela
+      m'agace;&rdquo;</i> and she gave a shiver, and then was a little hysterical; and
+      that was very unlike her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhoda kissed her, and said resolutely she would stop it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not unkindly?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will not tell him it is offensive to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray do not give him unnecessary pain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is not to be mortified.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall miss him sadly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naturally. Especially at each new place. Only conceive: one is always
+      anxious on the stage; and it is one thing to come before a public all
+      strangers, and nearly all poor judges; it is another to see, all ready for
+      your first note, a noble face bright with intelligence and admiration&mdash;the
+      face of a friend. Often that one face is the only one I allow myself to
+      see. It hides the whole public.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then don't you be silly and send it away. I'll tell you the one fault of
+      your character: you think too much of other people, and too little of
+      yourself. Now, that is contrary to the scheme of nature. We are sent into
+      the world to take care of number one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo; said Ina; &ldquo;are we to be all self-indulgence? Is there to be no
+      principle, no womanly prudence, foresight, discretion? No; I feel the
+      sacrifice: but no power shall hinder me from making it. If you cannot
+      persuade him, I'll do like other singers. I will be ill, and quit the
+      company.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't do that,&rdquo; said Rhoda. &ldquo;Now you have put on your iron look, it is no
+      use arguing&mdash;I know that to my cost. There&mdash;I will talk to him.
+      Only don't hurry me; let me take my opportunity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This being understood, Ina would not part with her for the present, but
+      took her to the theater. She dismissed her dresser, at Rhoda's request,
+      and Rhoda filled that office. So they could talk freely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhoda had never been behind the scenes of a theater before, and she went
+      prying about, ignoring the music, for she was almost earless. Presently,
+      whom should she encounter but Edward Severne. She started and looked at
+      him like a basilisk. He removed his hat and drew back a step with a great
+      air of respect and humility. She was shocked and indignant with Ina for
+      letting him be about her. She followed her off the stage into her dressing
+      room, and took her to task. &ldquo;I have seen Mr. Severne here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He comes every night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you allow him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the manager.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he would not admit him, if you objected.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid to do that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We should have an <i>esclandre.</i> I find he has had so much
+      consideration for me as to tell no one our relation; and as he has never
+      spoken to me, I do the most prudent thing I can, and take no notice.
+      Should he attempt to intrude himself on me, then it will be time to have
+      him stopped in the hall, and I shall do it <i>cou'te que cou'te.</i> Ah,
+      my dear friend, mine is a difficult and trying position.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After a very long wait, Ina went down and sung her principal song, with
+      the usual bravas and thunders of applause. She was called on twice, and as
+      she retired, Severne stepped forward, and, with a low, obsequious bow,
+      handed her a beautiful bouquet. She took it with a stately courtesy, but
+      never looked nor smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhoda saw that and wondered. She thought to herself, &ldquo;That is carrying
+      politeness a long way. To be sure, she is half a foreigner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Having done his nightly homage, Severne left the theater, and soon
+      afterward the performance concluded, and Ina took her friend home. Ashmead
+      was in the hall to show his patroness to her carriage&mdash;a duty he
+      never failed in. Rhoda shook hands with him, and he said, &ldquo;Delighted to
+      see you here, miss. You will be a great comfort to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two friends communed till two o'clock in the morning: but the limits
+      of my tale forbid me to repeat what passed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suffice it to say that Rhoda was fairly puzzled by the situation; but,
+      having a great regard for Vizard, saw clearly enough that he ought to be
+      sent back to Islip. She thought that perhaps the very sight of her would
+      wound his pride, and, finding his mania discovered by a third person, he
+      would go of his own accord: so she called on him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      My lord received her with friendly composure, and all his talk was about
+      Islip. He did not condescend to explain his presence at Carlisle. He knew
+      that <i>qui s'excuse s'accuse,</i> and left her to remonstrate. She had
+      hardly courage for that, and hoped it might be unnecessary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She told Ina what she had done. But her visit was futile: at night there
+      was Vizard in his box.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day the company opened in Manchester. Vizard was in his box there&mdash;Severne
+      in front, till Ina's principal song. Then he came round and presented his
+      bouquet. But this time he came up to Rhoda Gale, and asked her whether a
+      penitent man might pay his respects to her in the morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She said she believed there were very few penitents in the world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know one,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I don't, then,&rdquo; said the virago. &ldquo;But <i>you</i> can come, if you
+      are not afraid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Of course Ina Klosking knew of this appointment two minutes after it was
+      made. She merely said, &ldquo;Do not let him talk you over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is not so likely to talk me over as you,&rdquo; said Rhoda.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are mistaken,&rdquo; was Ina's reply. &ldquo;I am the one person he will never
+      deceive again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhoda Gale received his visit: he did not beat about the bush, nor fence
+      at all. He declared at once what he came for. He said, &ldquo;At the first sight
+      of you, whom I have been so ungrateful to, I could not speak; but now I
+      throw myself on your forgiveness. I think you must have seen that my
+      ingratitude has never sat light on me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have seen that you were terribly afraid of me,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dare say I was. But I am not afraid of you now; and here, on my knees,
+      I implore you to forgive my baseness, my ingratitude. Oh, Miss Gale, you
+      don't know what it is to be madly in love; one has no principle, no right
+      feeling, against a real passion: and I was madly in love with her. It was
+      through fear of losing her I disowned my physician, my benefactress, who
+      had saved my life. Miserable wretch! It was through fear of losing her
+      that I behaved like a ruffian to my angel wife, and would have committed
+      bigamy, and been a felon. What was all this but madness? You, who are so
+      wise, will you not forgive me a crime that downright insanity was the
+      cause of?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! if I understand right, you wish me to forgive you for looking in
+      my face, and saying to the woman who had saved your life, 'I don't know
+      you?'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;if you can. No: now you put it in plain words, I see it is not
+      to be forgiven.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are mistaken. It was like a stab to my heart, and I cried bitterly
+      over it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I deserve to be hanged; that is all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, on consideration, I believe it is as much your nature to be wicked
+      as it is my angel Ina's to be good. So I forgive you that one thing, you
+      charming villain.&rdquo; She held out her hand to him in proof of her good
+      faith.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He threw himself on his knees directly, and kissed and mumbled her hand,
+      and bedewed it with hysterical tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't do that,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;or I'm bound to give you a good kick. I
+      hate she men.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give me a moment,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;and I will be a man again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He sat with his face in his hands, gulping a little.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said she, cocking her head like a keen jackdaw; &ldquo;now let us have
+      the real object of your visit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; said he, inadvertently&mdash;&ldquo;another time will do for that. I
+      am content with your forgiveness. Now I can wait.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you ask? Do you consider this a happy state of things?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly not. But it can't be helped: and we have to thank you for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It could be helped in time. If you would persuade her to take the first
+      step.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What step?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not to disown her husband. To let him at least be her friend&mdash;her
+      penitent, humble friend. We are man and wife. If I were to say so
+      publicly, she would admit it. In this respect at least I have been
+      generous: will she not be generous too? What harm could it do her if we
+      lived under the same roof, and I took her to the theater, and fetched her
+      home, and did little friendly offices for her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so got the thin edge of the wedge in, eh? Mr. Severne, I decline all
+      interference in a matter so delicate, and in favor of a person who would
+      use her as ill as ever, if he once succeeded in recovering her
+      affections.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So then she dismissed him peremptorily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, true to Vizard's interest, she called on him again, and, after a few
+      preliminaries, let him know that Severne was every night behind the
+      scenes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A spasm crossed his face. &ldquo;I am quite aware of that,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;But he is
+      never admitted into her house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is under constant surveillance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Spies?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Thief-takers. All from Scotland Yard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And love brings men down to this. What is it for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I am sure of your co-operation, I will let you know my hopes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He doubts my friendship,&rdquo; said Rhoda sorrowfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; only your discretion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will be discreet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, sooner or later, he is sure to form some improper connection
+      or other; and then I hope you will aid me in persuading her to divorce
+      him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is not so easy in this country. It is not like our Western States,
+      where, the saying is, they give you five minutes at a railway station for
+      di&mdash;vorce.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You forget she is a German Protestant and the marriage was in that
+      country. It will be easy enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well; dismiss it from your mind. She will never come before the
+      public in that way. Nothing you nor I could urge would induce her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard replied, doggedly, &ldquo;I will never despair, so long as she keeps him
+      out of her house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhoda told Ina Klosking this, and said, &ldquo;Now it is in your own hands. You
+      have only to let your charming villain into your house, and Mr. Vizard
+      will return to Islip.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina Klosking buried her face in her hands, and thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At night, Vizard in his box, as usual. Severne behind the scenes with his
+      bouquet. But this night he stayed for the ballet, to see a French danseuse
+      who had joined them. He was acquainted with her before, and had a
+      sprightly conversation with her. In other words, he renewed an old
+      flirtation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next opera night all went as usual. Vizard in the box, looking sadder
+      than usual. Rhoda's good sense had not been entirely wasted. Severne, with
+      his bouquet, and his grave humility, until the play ended, and La Klosking
+      passed out into the hall. Her back was hardly turned when Mademoiselle
+      Lafontaine, dressed for the ballet, in a most spicy costume, danced up to
+      her old friend, and slapped his face very softly with a rose, then sprung
+      away and stood on her defense.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll have that rose,&rdquo; cried Severne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nenni.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And a kiss into the bargain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jamais.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;C'est ce que nous verrons.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He chased her. She uttered a feigned &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; and darted away. He followed
+      her; she crossed the scene at the back, where it was dark, bounded over an
+      open trap, which she saw just in time, but Severne, not seeing it, because
+      she was between him and it, fell through it, and, striking the mazarine,
+      fell into the cellar, fifteen feet below the stage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The screams of the dancers soon brought a crowd round the trap, and
+      reached Mademoiselle Klosking just as she was going out to her carriage.
+      &ldquo;There!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Another accident!&rdquo; and she came back, making sure it
+      was some poor carpenter come to grief, as usual. On such occasions her
+      purse was always ready.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They brought Severne up sensible, but moaning, and bleeding at the temple,
+      and looking all streaky about the face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were going to take him to the infirmary; but Mademoiselle Klosking,
+      with a face of angelic pity, said, &ldquo;No; he bleeds, he bleeds. He must go
+      to my house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They stared a little; but it takes a good deal to astonish people in a
+      theater.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Severne was carried out, his head hastily bandaged, and he was lifted into
+      La Klosking's carriage. One of the people of the theater was directed to
+      go on the box, and La Klosking and Ashmead supported him, and he was taken
+      to her lodgings. She directed him to be laid on a couch, and a physician
+      sent for, Miss Gale not having yet returned from Liverpool, whither she
+      had gone to attend a lecture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead went for the physician. But almost at the door he met Miss Gale
+      and Mr. Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;you are wanted. There has been an accident. Mr. Severne
+      has fallen through a trap, and into the cellar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No bones broken?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not he: he has only broken his head; and that will cost her a broken
+      heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where I hoped never to see him again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! in her house?&rdquo; said Rhoda and, hurried off at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Ashmead,&rdquo; said Vizard, &ldquo;a word with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By all means, sir,&rdquo; said Ashmead, &ldquo;as we go for the doctor. Dr. Menteith
+      has a great name. He lives close by your hotel, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As they went, Vizard asked him what he meant by saying this accident would
+      cost her a broken heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, sir,&rdquo; said Ashmead, &ldquo;he is on his good behavior to get back; has
+      been for months begging and praying just to be let live under the same
+      roof. She has always refused. But some fellows have such luck. I don't say
+      he fell down a trap on purpose; but he has done it, and no broken bones,
+      but plenty of blood. That is the very thing to overcome a woman's
+      feelings; and she is not proof against pity. He will have her again. Why,
+      she is his nurse now; and see how that will work. We have a week's more
+      business here; and, by bad luck, a dead fortnight, all along of Dublin
+      falling through unexpectedly. He is as artful as Old Nick; he will spin
+      out that broken head of his and make it last all the three weeks; and she
+      will nurse him, and he will be weak, and grateful, and cry, and beg her
+      pardon six times a day, and she is only a woman, after all: and they are
+      man and wife, when all is done: the road is beaten. They will run upon it
+      again, till his time is up to play the rogue as bad as ever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You torture me,&rdquo; said Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid I do, sir. But I feel it my duty. Mr. Vizard, you are a noble
+      gentleman, and I am only what you see; but the humblest folk will have
+      their likes and dislikes, and I have a great respect for you, sir. I can't
+      tell you the mixture of things I feel when I see you in the same box every
+      night. Of course, I am her agent, and the house would not be complete
+      without you; but as a man I am sorry. Especially now that she has let him
+      into her house. Take a humble friend's advice, sir, and cut it. Don't you
+      come between any woman and her husband, especially a public lady. She will
+      never be more to you than she is. She is a good woman, and he must keep
+      gaining ground. He has got the pull. Rouse all your pride, sir, and your
+      manhood, and you have got plenty of both, and cut it; don't look right nor
+      left, but cut it&mdash;and forgive my presumption.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard was greatly moved. &ldquo;Give me your hand,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;you are a worthy
+      man. I'll act on your advice, and never forget what I owe you. Stick to me
+      like a leech, and see me off by the next train, for I am going to tear my
+      heart out of my bosom.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Luckily there was a train in half an hour, and Ashmead saw him off; then
+      went to supper. He did not return to Ina's lodgings. He did not want to
+      see Severne nursed. He liked the fellow, too; but he saw through him
+      clean; and he worshiped Ina Klosking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXX.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      AT one o'clock next day, Ashmead received a note from Mademoiselle
+      Klosking, saying, &ldquo;Arrange with Mr. X&mdash;&mdash;to close my tour with
+      Manchester. Pay the fortnight, if required.&rdquo; She was with the company at a
+      month's notice on either side, you must understand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Instead of going to the manager, he went at once, in utter dismay, to
+      Mademoiselle Klosking, and there learned in substance what I must now
+      briefly relate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Gale found Edward Severne deposited on a sofa. Ina was on her knees
+      by his side, sponging his bleeding temple, with looks of gentle pity.
+      Strange to say, the wound was in the same place as his wife's, but more
+      contused, and no large vein was divided. Miss Gale soon stanched that. She
+      asked him where his pain was. He said it was in his head and his back; and
+      he cast a haggard, anxious look on her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take my arm,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;Now, stand up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He tried, but could not, and said his legs were benumbed. Miss Gale looked
+      grave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lay him on my bed,&rdquo; said La Klosking. &ldquo;That is better than these hard
+      couches.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are right,&rdquo; said Miss Gale. &ldquo;Ring for the servants. He must be moved
+      gently.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was carried in, and set upon the edge of the bed, and his coat and
+      waistcoat taken off. Then he was laid gently down on the bed, and covered
+      with a down quilt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Doctress Gale then requested Ina to leave the room, while she questioned
+      the patient.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina retired. In a moment or two Miss Gale came out to her softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At sight of her face, La Klosking said, &ldquo;Oh, dear; it is more serious than
+      we thought.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very serious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor Edward!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Collect all your courage, for I cannot lie, either to patient or friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you are right,&rdquo; said La Klosking, trembling. &ldquo;I see he is in danger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Worse than that. Where there's danger there is hope. Here there is none.
+      HE IS A DEAD MAN!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no! no!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has broken his back, and nothing can save him. His lower limbs have
+      already lost sensation. Death will creep over the rest. Do not disturb
+      your mind with idle hopes. You have two things to thank God for&mdash;that
+      you took him into your own house, and that he will die easily. Indeed,
+      were he to suffer, I should stupefy him at once, for nothing can <i>hurt</i>
+      him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina Klosking turned faint and her knees gave way under her. Rhoda
+      ministered to her; and while she was so employed, Dr. Menteith was
+      announced. He was shown in to the patient, and the accident described to
+      him. He questioned the patient, and examined him alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He then came out, and said he would draw a prescription. He did so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Doctor,&rdquo; said La Klosking, &ldquo;tell me the truth. It cannot be worse than I
+      fear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madam,&rdquo; said the doctor, &ldquo;medicine can do nothing for him. The spinal
+      cord is divided. Give him anything he fancies, and my prescription if he
+      suffers pain, not otherwise. Shall I send you a nurse?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Mademoiselle Klosking, <i>&ldquo;we</i> will nurse him night and
+      day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He retired, and the friends entered on their sad duties.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Severne saw them both by his bedside, with earnest looks of pity, he
+      said, &ldquo;Do not worry yourselves. I'm booked for the long journey. Ah, well,
+      I shall die where I ought to have lived, and might have, if I had not been
+      a fool.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina wept bitterly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They nursed him night and day. He suffered little, and when he did, Miss
+      Gale stupefied the pain at once; for, as she truly said, &ldquo;Nothing can hurt
+      him.&rdquo; Vitality gradually retired to his head, and lingered there a whole
+      day. But, to his last moment, the art of pleasing never abandoned him.
+      Instead of worrying for this or that every moment, he showed in this
+      desperate condition singular patience and well-bred fortitude. He checked
+      his wife's tears; assured her it was all for the best, and that he was
+      reconciled to the inevitable. &ldquo;I have had a happier time than I deserve,&rdquo;
+       said he, &ldquo;and now I have a painless death, nursed by two sweet women. My
+      only regret is that I shall not be able to repay your devotion, Ina, nor
+      become worthy of your friendship, Miss Gale.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He died without fear, it being his conviction that he should return after
+      death to the precise condition in which he was before birth; and when they
+      begged him to see a clergyman, he said, &ldquo;Pray do not give yourselves or
+      him that trouble. I can melt back into the universe without his
+      assistance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He even died content; for this polished Bohemian had often foreseen that,
+      if he lived long, he should die miserably.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the main feature of his end was his extraordinary politeness. He paid
+      Miss Gale compliments just as if he were at his ease on a sofa: and scarce
+      an hour before his decease he said, faintly, &ldquo;I declare&mdash;I have been
+      so busy&mdash;dying&mdash;I have forgotten to send my kind regards to good
+      Mr. Ashmead. Pray tell him I did not forget his kindness to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He just ceased to live, so quiet was his death, and a smile rested on his
+      dead features, and they were as beautiful as ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So ended a fair, pernicious creature, endowed too richly with the art of
+      pleasing, and quite devoid of principle. Few bad men knew right so well,
+      and went so wrong. Ina buried her face for hours on his bed, and kissed
+      his cold features and hand. She had told him before he died she would
+      recall all her resolutions, if he would live. But he was gone. Death
+      buries a man's many faults, and his few virtues rise again. She mourned
+      him sincerely, and would not be comforted; she purchased a burying place
+      forever, and laid him in it; then she took her aching heart far away, and
+      was lost to the public and to all her English friends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The faithful Rhoda accompanied her half way to London; then returned to
+      her own duties in Barfordshire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXXI.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      I MUST now retrograde a little to relate something rather curious, and I
+      hope not uninteresting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zoe Vizard had been for some time acting on Mrs. Gale's advice; building,
+      planning for the good of the poor, and going out of herself more and more.
+      She compared notes constantly with Miss Gale, and conceived a friendship
+      for her. It had been a long time coming, because at first she disliked
+      Miss Gale's manners very much. But that lady had nursed her tenderly, and
+      now advised her, and Zoe, who could not do anything by halves, became
+      devoted to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she warmed to her good work, she gave signs of clearer judgment. She
+      never mentioned Severne; but she no longer absolutely avoided Ina
+      Klosking's name; and one day she spoke of her as a high-principled woman;
+      for which the Gale kissed her on the spot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One name she often uttered, and always with regret and self-reproach&mdash;Lord
+      Uxmoor's. I think that, now she was herself building and planning for the
+      permanent improvement of the poor, she felt the tie of a kindred
+      sentiment. Uxmoor was her predecessor in this good work, too; and would
+      have been her associate, if she had not been so blind. This thought struck
+      deep in her. Her mind ran more and more on Uxmoor, his manliness, his
+      courage in her defense, and his gentlemanly fortitude and bravery in
+      leaving her, without a word, at her request. Running over all these, she
+      often blushed with shame, and her eyes filled with sorrow at thinking of
+      how she had treated him; and lost him forever by not deserving him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She even made oblique and timid inquiries, but could learn nothing of him,
+      except that he sent periodical remittances to Miss Gale, for managing his
+      improvements. These, however, came in through a country agent from a town
+      agent, and left no clew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But one fine day, with no warning except to his own people, Lord Uxmoor
+      came home; and the next day rode to Hillstoke to talk matters over with
+      Miss Gale. He was fortunate enough to find her at home. He thanked her for
+      the zeal and enthusiasm she had shown, and the progress his works had made
+      under her supervision.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was going away without even mentioning the Vizard family.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the crafty Gale detained him. &ldquo;Going to Vizard Court?&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said he, very dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, I understand; but perhaps you would not mind going with me as far as
+      Islip. There is something there I wish you to see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph? Is it anything very particular? Because&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is. Three cottages rising, with little flower gardens in front. Square
+      plots behind, and arrangements for breeding calves, with other ingenious
+      novelties. A new head come into our business, my lord.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have converted Vizard? I thought you would. He is a satirical fellow,
+      but he will listen to reason.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it is not Mr. Vizard; indeed, it is no convert of mine. It is an
+      independent enthusiast. But I really believe your work at home had some
+      hand in firing her enthusiasm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A lady! Do I know her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may. I suppose you know everybody in Barfordshire. Will you come?
+      Do!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I will come, Miss Gale. Please tell one of your people to walk
+      my horse down after us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She had her hat on in a moment, and walked him down to Islip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her tongue was not idle on the road. &ldquo;You don't ask after the people,&rdquo;
+       said she. &ldquo;There's poor Miss Vizard. She had a sad illness. We were almost
+      afraid we should lose her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heaven forbid!&rdquo; said Uxmoor, startled by this sudden news.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle Klosking got quite well; and oh! what do you think? Mr.
+      Severne turned out to be her husband.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; shouted Uxmoor, and stopped dead short. &ldquo;Mr. Severne a
+      married man!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; and Mademoiselle Klosking a married woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You amaze me. Why, that Mr. Severne was paying his attentions to Miss
+      Vizard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I used to fancy,&rdquo; said Rhoda carelessly. &ldquo;But you see it came out he
+      was married, and so of course she packed him off with a flea in his ear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did she? When was that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me see, it was the 17th of October.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, that was the very day I left England.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How odd! Why did you not stay another week? Gentlemen are so impatient.
+      Never mind, that is an old story now. Here we are; those are the cottages.
+      The workmen are at dinner. Ten to one the enthusiast is there: this is her
+      time. You stay here. I'll go and see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She went off on tiptoe, and peeped and pried here and there, like a young
+      witch. Presently she took a few steps toward him, with her finger
+      mysteriously to her lips, and beckoned him. He entered into the pantomime&mdash;she
+      seemed so earnest in it&mdash;and came to her softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do just take a peep in at that opening for a door,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;then
+      you'll see her; her back is turned. She is lovely; only, you know, she has
+      been ill, and I don't think she is very happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Uxmoor thought this peeping at enthusiasts rather an odd proceeding, but
+      Miss Gale had primed his curiosity, and he felt naturally proud of a
+      female pupil. He stepped up lightly, looked in at the door, and, to his
+      amazement, saw Zoe Vizard sitting on a carpenter's bench, with her lovely
+      head in the sun's rays. He started, then gazed, then devoured her with his
+      eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What! was this his pupil?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How gentle and sad she seemed! All his stoicism melted at the sight of
+      her. She sat in a sweet, pensive attitude, pale and drooping, but, to his
+      fancy, lovelier than ever. She gave a little sigh. His heart yearned. She
+      took out a letter, read it slowly, and said, softly and slowly, &ldquo;Poor
+      fellow!&rdquo; He thought he recognized his own handwriting, and could stand no
+      more. He rushed, in, and was going to speak to her; but she screamed, and
+      no conjurer ever made a card disappear quicker than she did that letter,
+      as she bounded away like a deer, and stood, blushing scarlet, and
+      palpitating all over.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Uxmoor was ashamed of his <i>brusquerie.</i> &ldquo;What a brute I am to
+      frighten you like this!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Pray forgive me; but the sight of you,
+      after all these weary months&mdash;and you said 'Poor fellow!'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did I?&rdquo; said Zoe, faintly, looking scared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sweet Zoe, and you were reading a letter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought the poor fellow might be myself. Not that I am to be pitied, if
+      you think of me still.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do, then&mdash;very often. Oh, Lord Uxmoor, I want to go down on my
+      knees to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is odd, now; for it is exactly what I should like to do to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What for? It is I who have behaved so ill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind that; I love you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you mustn't. You must love some worthy person.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you leave that to me. I have no other intention. But may I just see
+      whose letter you were reading?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, pray don't ask me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I insist on knowing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will not tell you. There it is.&rdquo; She gave it to him with a guilty air,
+      and hid her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear Zoe, suppose I were to repeat the offer I made here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I advise you not,&rdquo; said she, all in a flurry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because. Because&mdash;I might say 'Yes.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then I'll take my chance once more. Zoe, will you try and love me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Try? I believe I do love you, or nearly. I think of you very often.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you will do something to make me happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anything; everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you marry me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, that I will,&rdquo; said Zoe, almost impetuously; &ldquo;and then,&rdquo; with a grand
+      look of conscious beauty, &ldquo;I can <i>make</i> you forgive me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Uxmoor, on this, caught her in his arms, and kissed her with such fire
+      that she uttered a little stifled cry of alarm; but it was soon followed
+      by a sigh of complacency, and she sunk, resistless, on his manly breast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So, after two sieges, he carried that fair citadel by assault.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then let not the manly heart despair, nor take a mere brace of &ldquo;Noes&rdquo; from
+      any woman. Nothing short of three negatives is serious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They walked out in arm-in-arm and very close to each other; and he left
+      her, solemnly engaged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Leaving this pair to the delights of courtship, and growing affection on
+      Zoe's side&mdash;for a warm attachment of the noblest kind did grow, by
+      degrees, out of her penitence, and esteem, and desire to repair her fault&mdash;I
+      must now take up the other thread of this narrative, and apologize for
+      having inverted the order of events; for it was, in reality, several days
+      after this happy scene that Mademoiselle Klosking sent for Miss Gale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXXII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      VIZARD, then, with Ashmead, returned home in despair; and Zoe, now happy
+      in her own mind, was all tenderness and sisterly consolation. They opened
+      their hearts to each other, and she showed her wish to repay the debt she
+      owed him. How far she might have succeeded, in time, will never be known.
+      For he had hardly been home a week, when Miss Gale returned, all in black,
+      and told him Severne was dead and buried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was startled, and even shocked, remembering old times; but it was not
+      in human nature he should be sorry. Not to be indecorously glad at so
+      opportune an exit was all that could be expected from him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she had given him the details, his first question was, &ldquo;How did she
+      bear it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is terribly cut up&mdash;more than one would think possible; for she
+      was ice and marble to him before he was hurt to death.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gone to London. She will write to me, I suppose&mdash;poor dear. But one
+      must give her time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      From that hour Vizard was in a state of excitement, hoping to hear from
+      Ina Klosking, or about her; but unwilling, from delicacy, to hurry
+      matters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last he became impatient, and wrote to Ashmead, whose address he had,
+      and said, frankly, he had a delicacy in intruding on Mademoiselle
+      Klosking, in her grief. Yet his own feelings would not allow him to seem
+      to neglect her. Would Mr. Ashmead, then, tell him where she was, as she
+      had not written to any one in Barfordshire&mdash;not even to her tried
+      friend, Miss Gale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He received an answer by return of post.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DEAR SIR&mdash;I am grieved to tell you that Mademoiselle Klosking has
+      retired from public life. She wrote to me, three weeks ago, from Dover,
+      requesting me to accept, as a token of her esteem, the surplus money I
+      hold in hand for her&mdash;I always drew her salary&mdash;and bidding me
+      farewell. The sum included her profits by psalmody, minus her expenses,
+      and was so large it could never have been intended as a mere recognition
+      of my humble services; and I think I have seldom felt so down-hearted as
+      on receiving this princely donation. It has enabled me to take better
+      offices, and it may be the foundation of a little fortune; but I feel that
+      I have lost the truly great lady who has made a man of me. Sir, the relish
+      is gone for my occupation: I can never be so happy as I was in working the
+      interests of that great genius, whose voice made our leading soprani sound
+      like whistles, and who honored me with her friendship. Sir, she was not
+      like other leading ladies. She never bragged, never spoke ill of any one;
+      and <i>you</i> can testify to her virtue and her discretion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am truly sorry to learn from you that she has written to no one in
+      Barfordshire. I saw, by her letter to me, she had left the stage; but her
+      dropping you all looks as if she had left the world. I do hope she has not
+      been so mad as to go into one of those cursed convents.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Vizard, I will now write to friends in all the Continental towns
+      where there is good music. She will not be able to keep away from that
+      long. I will also send photographs; and hope we may hear something. If
+      not, perhaps a <i>judicious advertisement</i> might remind her that she is
+      inflicting pain upon persons to whom she is dear. I am, sir, your obliged
+      and grateful servant,
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;JOSEPH ASHMEAD.&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      Here was a blow. I really believe Vizard felt this more deeply than all
+      his other disappointments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He brooded over it for a day or two; and then, as he thought Miss Gale a
+      very ill-used person, though not, of course, so ill-used as himself, he
+      took her Ashmead's letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is nice!&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;There&mdash;I must give up loving women.
+      Besides, they throw me over the moment a man comes, if it happens to be
+      the right one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unnatural creatures!&rdquo; said Vizard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ungrateful, at all events.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think she has gone into a convent?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not she. In the first place, she is a Protestant; and, in the second, she
+      is not a fool.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will advertise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The idea!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think I am going to sit down with my hands before me, and lose her
+      forever?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, indeed; I don't think you are that sort of a man at all, ha! ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Miss Gale, pity me. Tell me how to find her. That Fanny Dover says
+      women are only enigmas to men; they understand one another.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What,&rdquo; said Rhoda, turning swiftly on him; &ldquo;does that little chit pretend
+      to read my noble Ina?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If she cannot, perhaps you can. You are so shrewd. Do tell me, what does
+      it all mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It means nothing at all, I dare say; only a woman's impulse. They are
+      such geese at times, every one of them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, if I did but know what country she is in, I would ransack it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hum!&mdash;countries are biggish places.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't care.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What will you give me to tell you where she is at this moment?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All I have in the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is sufficient. Well, then, first assign me your estates; then fetch
+      me an ordnance map of creation, and I will put my finger on her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You little mocking fiend, you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not. I'm a tall, beneficent angel; and I'll tell you where she is&mdash;for
+      nothing. Keep your land: who wants it?&mdash;it is only a bother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For pity's sake, don't trifle with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never will, where your heart is interested. She is at Zutzig.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, you good girl! She has written to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a line, the monster! And I'll serve her out. I'll teach her to play
+      hide-and-seek with Gale, M.D.!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zutzig!&rdquo; said Vizard; &ldquo;how can you know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does that matter? Well, yes&mdash;I will reveal the mental process.
+      First of all, she has gone to her mother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear, dear, dear! Because that is where every daughter goes in
+      trouble. I should&mdash;she <i>has.</i> Fancy you not seeing that&mdash;why,
+      Fanny Dover would have told you that much in a moment. But now you will
+      have to thank <i>my</i> mother for teaching me Attention, the parent of
+      Memory. Pray, sir, who were the witnesses to that abominable marriage of
+      hers?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I remember two, Baron Hompesch&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Count Hompesch.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Count Meurice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Viscount. What, have you forgotten Herr Formes, Fraulein Graafe, Zug the
+      Capellmeister, and her very mother? Come now, whose daughter is she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I forget, I'm sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Walter Ferris and Eva Klosking, of Zutzig, in Denmark. Pack&mdash;start
+      for Copenhagen. Consult an ordnance map there. Find out Zutzig. Go to
+      Zutzig, and you have got her. It is some hole in a wilderness, and she
+      can't escape.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You clever little angel! I'll be there in three days. Do you really think
+      I shall succeed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your own fault if you don't. She has run into a <i>cul-de-sac</i> through
+      being too clever; and, besides, women sometimes run away just to be
+      caught, and hide on purpose to be found. I should not wonder if she has
+      said to herself, 'He will find me if he loves me so very, very much&mdash;I'll
+      try him.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a word more, angelic fox,&rdquo; said Vizard; &ldquo;I'm off to Zutzig.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went out on fire. She opened the window and screeched after him,
+      &ldquo;Everything is fair after her behavior to me. Take her a book of those
+      spiritual songs she is so fond of. 'Johnny comes marching home,' is worth
+      the lot, I reckon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Away went Vizard; found Copenhagen with ease; Zutzig with difficulty,
+      being a small village. But once there, he soon found the farmhouse of Eva
+      Klosking. He drove up to the door. A Danish laborer came out from the
+      stable directly; and a buxom girl, with pale golden hair, opened the door.
+      These two seized his luggage, and conveyed it into the house, and the
+      hired vehicle to the stable. Vizard thought it must be an inn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl bubbled melodious sounds, and ran off and brought a sweet,
+      venerable name. Vizard recognized Eva Klosking at once. The old lady said,
+      &ldquo;Few strangers come here&mdash;are you not English?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, madam.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is Mr. Vizard&mdash;is it not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, madam.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, sir, my daughter will welcome you, but not more heartily than I do.
+      My child has told me all she owes to you&rdquo;&mdash;then in Danish, &ldquo;God bless
+      the hour you come under this roof.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard's heart beat tumultuously, wondering how Ina Klosking would receive
+      him. The servant had told her a tall stranger was come. She knew in a
+      moment who it was; so she had the advantage of being prepared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She came to him, her cheeks dyed with blushes, and gave him both hands.
+      &ldquo;You here!&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;oh, happy day! Mother, he must have the south
+      chamber. I will go and prepare it for him. Tecla!&mdash;Tecla!&rdquo;&mdash;and
+      she was all hostess. She committed him to her mother, while she and the
+      servant went upstairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He felt discomfited a little. He wanted to know, all in a moment, whether
+      she would love him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, Danish hospitality has its good side. He soon found out he might
+      live the rest of his days there if he chose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He soon got her alone, and said, &ldquo;You knew I should find you, cruel one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How could I dream of such a thing?&rdquo; said she, blushing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Love is a detective. You said to yourself, 'If he loves me as I ought
+      to be loved, he will search Europe for me; but he will find me.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, then it was not to be at peace and rest on my mother's bosom I came
+      here; it was to give you the trouble of running after me. Oh, fie!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are right. I am a vain fool.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, that you are not. After all, how do I know all that was in my heart?
+      (Ahem!) Be sure of this, you are very welcome. I must go and see about
+      your dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In that Danish farmhouse life was very primitive. Eva Klosking, and both
+      her daughters, helped the two female servants, or directed them, in every
+      department. So Ina, who was on her defense, had many excuses for escaping
+      Vizard, when he pressed her too hotly. But at last she was obliged to say,
+      &ldquo;Oh, pray, my friend&mdash;we are in Denmark: here widows are expected to
+      be discreet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But that is no reason why the English fellows who adore them should be
+      discreet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps not: but then the Danish lady runs away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Which she did.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, after the bustle of the first day, he had so many opportunities. He
+      walked with her, sat with her while she worked, and hung over her,
+      entranced, while she sung. He produced the book from Vizard Court without
+      warning, and she screamed with delight at sight of it, and caught his hand
+      in both hers and kissed it. She reveled in those sweet strains which had
+      comforted her in affliction: and oh, the eyes she turned on him after
+      singing any song in this particular book! Those tender glances thrilled
+      him to the very marrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To tell the honest truth, his arrival was a godsend to Ina Klosking. When
+      she first came home to her native place, and laid her head on her mother's
+      bosom, she was in Elysium. The house, the wood fires, the cooing doves,
+      the bleating calves, the primitive life, the recollections of childhood&mdash;all
+      were balm to her, and she felt like ending her days there. But, as the
+      days rolled on, came a sense of monotony and excessive tranquillity. She
+      was on the verge of <i>ennui</i> when Vizard broke in upon her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From that moment there was no stagnation. He made life very pleasant to
+      her; only her delicacy took the alarm at his open declarations; she
+      thought them so premature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last he said to her, one day, &ldquo;I begin to fear you will never love me
+      as I love you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who knows?&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;Time works wonders.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;whether you will ever marry any other man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina was shocked at that. &ldquo;Oh, my friend, how could I&mdash;unless,&rdquo; said
+      she, with a sly side-glance, &ldquo;you consented.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Consent? I'd massacre him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina turned toward him. &ldquo;You asked my hand at a time when you thought me&mdash;I
+      don't know what you thought&mdash;that is a thing no woman could forget.
+      And now you have come all this way for me. I am yours, if you can wait for
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He caught her in his arms. She disengaged herself, gently, and her hand
+      rested an unnecessary moment on his shoulder. &ldquo;Is that how you understand
+      'waiting?'&rdquo; said she, with a blush, but an indulgent smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the use waiting?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a matter of propriety.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How long are we to wait?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only a few months. My friend, it is like a boy to be too impatient. Alas!
+      would you marry me in my widow's cap?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I would. Now, Ina, love, a widow who has been two years
+      separated from her husband!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly, that makes a difference&mdash;in one's own mind. But one must
+      respect the opinion of the world. Dear friend, it is of you I think,
+      though I speak of myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are an angel. Take your own time. After all, what does it matter? I
+      don't leave Zutzig without you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina's pink tint and sparkling eyes betrayed anything but horror at that
+      insane resolution. However, she felt it her duty to say that it was
+      unfortunate she should always be the person to distract him from his home
+      duties.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, never mind them,&rdquo; said this single-hearted lover. &ldquo;I have appointed
+      Miss Gale viceroy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      However, one day he had a letter from Zoe, telling him that Lord Uxmoor
+      was now urging her to name the day; but she had declined to do that, not
+      knowing when it might suit him to be at Vizard Court. &ldquo;But, dearest,&rdquo; said
+      she, &ldquo;mind, you are not to hurry home for me. I am very happy as I am, and
+      I hope you will soon be as happy, love. She is a noble woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The latter part of this letter tempted Vizard to show it to Ina. He soon
+      found his mistake. She kissed it, and ordered him off. He remonstrated.
+      She put on, for the first time in Denmark, her marble look, and said, &ldquo;You
+      will lessen my esteem, if you are cruel to your sister. Let her name the
+      wedding-day at once; and you must be there to give her away, and bless her
+      union, with a brother's love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He submitted, but a little sullenly, and said it was very hard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He wrote to his sister, accordingly, and she named the day, and Vizard
+      settled to start for home, and be in time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As to the proprieties, he had instructed Miss Maitland and Fanny Dover,
+      and given them and La Gale <i>carte blanche.</i> It was to be a
+      magnificent wedding.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This being excitement, Fanny Dover was in paradise. Moreover, a
+      rosy-cheeked curate had taken the place of the venerable vicar, and Miss
+      Dover's threat to flirt out the stigma of a nun was executed with
+      promptitude, zeal, pertinacity, and the dexterity that comes of practice.
+      When the day came for his leaving Zutzig, Vizard was dejected. &ldquo;Who knows
+      when we may meet again?&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ina consoled him. &ldquo;Do not be sad, dear friend. You are doing your duty;
+      and as you do it partly to please me, I ought to try and reward you; ought
+      I not?&rdquo; And she gave him a strange look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I advise you not to press that question,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the very hour of parting, Ina's eyes were moist with tenderness, but
+      there was a smile on her face very expressive; yet he could not make out
+      what it meant. She did not cry. He thought that hard. It was his opinion
+      that women could always cry. She might have done the usual thing just to
+      gratify him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He reached home in good time: and played the <i>grand seigneur</i>&mdash;nobody
+      could do it better when driven to it&mdash;to do honor to his sister. She
+      was a peerless bride: she stood superior with ebon locks and coal black
+      eyes, encircled by six bridemaids&mdash;all picked blondes. The bevy, with
+      that glorious figure in the middle, seemed one glorious and rare flower.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After the wedding, the breakfast; and then the traveling carriage; the
+      four liveried postilions bedecked with favors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the bride wept on Vizard's neck; and a light seemed to leave the house
+      when she was gone. The carriages kept driving away one after another till
+      four o'clock: and then Vizard sat disconsolate in his study, and felt very
+      lonely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet a thing no bigger than a leaf sufficed to drive away this somber mood,
+      a piece of amber-colored paper scribbled on with a pencil: a telegram from
+      Ashmead: &ldquo;Good news: lost sheep turned up. Is now with her mother at
+      Claridge's Hotel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Vizard was in raptures. Now he understood Ina's composure, and the
+      half sly look she had given him, and her dry eyes at parting, and other
+      things. He tore up to London directly, with a telegram flying ahead: burst
+      in upon her, and had her in his arms in a moment, before her mother: she
+      fenced no longer, but owned he had gained her love, as he had deserved it
+      in every way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She consented to be married that week in London: only she asked for a
+      Continental tour before entering Vizard Court as his wife; but she did not
+      stipulate even for that&mdash;she only asked it submissively, as one whose
+      duty it now was to obey, not dictate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were married in St. George's Church very quietly, by special license.
+      Then they saw her mother off, and crossed to Calais. They spent two happy
+      months together on the Continent, and returned to London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Vizard was too old-fashioned, and too proud of his wife, to sneak into
+      Vizard Court with her. He did not make it a county matter; but he gave the
+      village such a <i>fete</i> as had not been seen for many a day. The
+      preparations were intrusted to Mr. Ashmead, at Ina's request. &ldquo;He will be
+      sure to make it theatrical,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;but perhaps the simple villagers
+      will admire that, and it will amuse you and me, love: and the poor dear
+      old Thing will be in his glory&mdash;I hope he will not drink too much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashmead was indeed in his glory. Nothing had been seen in a play that he
+      did not electrify Islip with, and the surrounding villages. He pasted
+      large posters on walls and barn doors, and his small bills curled round
+      the patriarchs of the forest and the roadside trees, and blistered the
+      gate posts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The day came. A soapy pole, with a leg of mutton on high for the
+      successful climber. Races in sacks. Short blindfold races with
+      wheelbarrows. Pig with a greasy tail, to be won by him who could catch him
+      and shoulder him, without touching any other part of him; bowls of treacle
+      for the boys to duck heads in and fish out coins; skittles, nine pins,
+      Aunt Sally, etc., etc., etc.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But what astonished the villagers most was a May-pole, with long ribbons,
+      about which ballet girls, undisguised as Highlanders, danced, and wound
+      and unwound the party-colored streamers, to the merry fiddle, and then
+      danced reels upon a platform, then returned to their little tent: but out
+      again and danced hornpipes undisguised as Jacky Tars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Beer flowed from a sturdy regiment of barrels. &ldquo;The Court&rdquo; kitchen and the
+      village bakehouse kept pouring forth meats, baked, boiled, and roast;
+      there was a pile of loaves like a haystack; and they roasted an ox whole
+      on the Green; and, when they found they were burning him raw, they fetched
+      the butcher, like sensible fellows, and dismembered the giant, and so
+      roasted him reasonably.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the midst of the reveling and feasting, Vizard and Mrs. Vizard were
+      driven into Islip village in the family coach, with four horses streaming
+      with ribbons.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They drove round the Green, bowing and smiling in answer to the
+      acclamations and blessings of the poor, and then to Vizard Court. The
+      great doors flew open. The servants, male and female, lined the hall on
+      both sides, and received her bowing and courtesying low, on the very spot
+      where she had nearly met her death; her husband took her hand and
+      conducted her in state to her own apartment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was open house to all that joyful day, and at night magnificent
+      fireworks on the sweep, seen from the drawing-room by Mrs. Vizard, Miss
+      Maitland, Miss Gale, Miss Dover, and the rosy-cheeked curate, whom she had
+      tied to her apron-strings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At two in the morning, Mr. Harris showed Mr. Ashmead to his couch. Both
+      gentlemen went upstairs a little graver than any of our modern judges, and
+      firm as a rock; but their firmness resembled that of a roof rather than a
+      wall; for these dignities as they went made one inverted V&mdash;so, A.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is time the &ldquo;Woman-hater&rdquo; drew to a close, for the woman-hater is
+      spoiled. He begins sarcastic speeches, from force of habit, but stops
+      short in the middle. He is a very happy man, and owes it to a woman, and
+      knows it. He adores her; and to love well is to be happy. But, besides
+      that, she watches over his happiness and his good with that unobtrusive
+      but minute vigilance which belongs to her sex, and is often misapplied,
+      but not so very often as cynics say. Even the honest friendship between
+      him and the remarkable woman he calls his &ldquo;viragos&rdquo; gives him many a
+      pleasant hour. He is still a humorist, though cured of his fling at the
+      fair sex. His last tolerable hit was at the monosyllabic names of the
+      immortal composers his wife had disinterred in his library. Says he to
+      parson Denison, hot from Oxford, &ldquo;They remind me of the Oxford poets in
+      the last century:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alma novem celebres genuit Rhedyeina poetas. Bubb, Stubb, Grubb, Crabbe,
+      Trappe. Brome, Carey, Tickell, Evans.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As for Ina Vizard, La Klosking no longer, she has stepped into her new
+      place with her native dignity, seemliness and composure. At first, a few
+      county ladies put their little heads together, and prepared to give
+      themselves airs; but the beauty, dignity, and enchanting grace of Mrs.
+      Vizard swept this little faction away like small dust. Her perfect
+      courtesy, her mild but deep dislike of all feminine back-biting, her dead
+      silence about the absent, except when she can speak kindly&mdash;these
+      rare traits have forced, by degrees, the esteem and confidence of her own
+      sex. As for the men, they accepted her at once with enthusiasm. She and
+      Lady Uxmoor are the acknowledged belles of the county. Lady Uxmoor's face
+      is the most admired; but Mrs. Vizard comes next, and her satin shoulders,
+      statuesque bust and arms, and exquisite hand, turn the scale with some.
+      But when she speaks, she charms; and when she sings, all competition dies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She is faithful to music, and especially to sacred music. She is not very
+      fond of singing at parties, and sometimes gives offense by declining.
+      Music sets fools talking, because it excites them, and then their folly
+      comes out by the road nature has provided. But when Mrs. Vizard has to
+      sing in one key, and people talk in five other keys, that gives this
+      artist such physical pain that she often declines, merely to escape it. It
+      does not much mortify her vanity, she has so little.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She always sings in church, and sings out, too, when she is there; and
+      plays the harmonium. She trains the villagers&mdash;girls, boys and adults&mdash;with
+      untiring good humor and patience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Among her pupils are two fine voices&mdash;Tom Wilder, a grand bass, and
+      the rosy-cheeked curate, a greater rarity still, a genuine counter-tenor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These two can both read music tolerably; but the curate used to sing
+      everything, however full of joy, with a pathetic whine, for which Vizard
+      chaffed him in vain; but Mrs. Vizard persuaded him out of it, where
+      argument and satire failed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      People come far and near to hear the hymns at Islip Church, sung in full
+      harmony&mdash;trebles, tenors, counter-tenor, and bass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A trait&mdash;she allows nothing to be sung in church unrehearsed. The
+      rehearsals are on Saturday night, and never shirked, such is the respect
+      for &ldquo;Our Dame.&rdquo; To be sure, &ldquo;Our Dame&rdquo; fills the stomachs and wets the
+      whistles of her faithful choir on Saturday nights.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On Sunday nights there are performances of sacred music in the great
+      dining-hall. But these are rather more ambitious than those in the village
+      church. The performers meet on that happy footing of camaraderie the fine
+      arts create, the superior respect shown to Mrs. Vizard being mainly paid
+      to her as the greater musician. They attack anthems and services; and a
+      trio, by the parson, the blacksmith, and &ldquo;Our Dame,&rdquo; is really an
+      extraordinary treat, owing to the great beauty of the voices. It is also
+      piquant to hear the female singer constantly six, and often ten, notes
+      below the male counter-tenor; but then comes Wilder with his diapason, and
+      the harmony is noble; the more so that Mrs. Vizard rehearses her pupils in
+      the swell&mdash;a figure too little practiced in music, and nowhere
+      carried out as she does it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One night the organist of Barford was there. They sung Kent's service in
+      F, and Mrs. Vizard still admired it. She and the parson swelled in the
+      duet, &ldquo;To be a Light to lighten the Gentiles,&rdquo; etc. Organist approved the
+      execution, but said the composition was a meager thing, quite out of date.
+      &ldquo;We have much finer things now by learned men of the day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;bring me one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So, next Sunday, he brought her a learned composition, and played it to
+      her, preliminary to their singing it. But she declined it on the spot.
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;Mr. X., would you compare this meaningless stuff with
+      Kent in F? Why, in Kent, the dominant sentiment of each composition is
+      admirably preserved. His 'Magnificat' is lofty jubilation, with a free,
+      onward rush. His 'Dimittis' is divine repose after life's fever. But this
+      poor pedant's 'Magnificat' begins with a mere crash, and then falls into
+      the pathetic&mdash;an excellent thing in its place, but not in a song of
+      triumph. As to his 'Dimittis,' it simply defies the words. This is no
+      Christian sunset. It is not good old Simeon gently declining to his rest,
+      content to close those eyes which had seen the world's salvation. This is
+      a tempest, and all the windows rattling, and the great Napoleon dying,
+      amid the fury of the elements, with 'te'te d'arme'e!' on his dying lips,
+      and 'battle' in his expiring soul. No, sir; if the learned Englishmen of
+      this day can do nothing nearer the mark than DOLEFUL MAGNIFICATS and
+      STORMY NUNC DIMITTISES, I shall stand faithful to poor dead Kent, and his
+      fellows&mdash;they were my solace in sickness and sore trouble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In accordance with these views of vocal music, and desirous to expand its
+      sphere, Mrs. Vizard has just offered handsome prizes in the county for the
+      best service, in which the dominant sentiment of the words shall be as
+      well preserved as in Kent's despised service; and another prize to whoever
+      can set any famous short secular poem, or poetical passage (not in ballad
+      meter), to good and appropriate music.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This has elicited several pieces. The composers have tried their hands on
+      Dryden's Ode; on the meeting of Hector and Andromache (Pope's &ldquo;Homer&rdquo;); on
+      two short poems of Tennyson; etc., etc.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But it is only the beginning of a good thing. The pieces, are under
+      consideration. Vizard says the competitors are trifiers. <i>He</i> shall
+      set Mr. Arnold's version of &ldquo;Hero and Leander&rdquo; to the harp, and sing it
+      himself. This, he intimates, will silence competition and prove an era. I
+      think so too, if his music should <i>happen</i> to equal the lines in
+      value. But I hardly think it will, because the said Vizard, though he has
+      taste and ear, does not know one note from another. So I hope &ldquo;Hero and
+      Leander&rdquo; will fall into abler hands; and in any case, I trust Mrs. Vizard
+      will succeed in her worthy desire to enlarge, very greatly, the sphere and
+      the nobility of vocal music. It is a desire worthy of this remarkable
+      character, of whom I now take my leave with regret.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I must own that regret is caused in part by my fear that I may not have
+      done her all the justice I desired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I have long felt and regretted that many able female writers are doing
+      much to perpetuate the petty vices of a sex, which, after all, is at
+      present but half educated, by devoting three thick volumes to such empty
+      women as Biography, though a lower art than Fiction, would not waste three
+      pages on. They plead truth and fidelity to nature. &ldquo;We write the average
+      woman, for the average woman to read,&rdquo; say they. But they are not
+      consistent; for the average woman is under five feet, and rather ugly. Now
+      these paltry women are all beautiful&mdash;[Greek], as Homer hath it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fiction has just as much right to select large female souls as Biography
+      or Painting has; and to pick out a selfish, shallow, illiterate creature,
+      with nothing but beauty, and bestow three enormous volumes on her, is to
+      make a perverse selection, beauty being, after all, rarer in women than
+      wit, sense, and goodness. It is as false and ignoble in art, as to marry a
+      pretty face without heart and brains is silly in conduct.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Besides, it gives the female <i>reader</i> a low model instead of a high
+      one, and so does her a little harm; whereas a writer ought to do good&mdash;or
+      try, at all events.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Having all this in my mind, and remembering how many noble women have
+      shone like stars in every age and every land, and feeling sure that, as
+      civilization advances, such women will become far more common, I have
+      tried to look ahead and paint La Klosking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But such portraiture is difficult. It is like writing a statue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Qui mihi non credit faciat licet ipse periclum, Mox fuerit studis aequior
+      ille meis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Harrington Vizard, Esq., caught Miss Fanny Dover on the top round but one
+      of the steps of his library. She looked down, pinkish, and said she was
+      searching for &ldquo;Tillotson's Sermons.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What on earth can you want of them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To improve my mind, to be sure,&rdquo; said the minx.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard said, &ldquo;Now you stay there, miss&mdash;don't you move;&rdquo; and he sent
+      for Ina. She came directly, and he said, &ldquo;Things have come to a climax. My
+      lady is hunting for 'Tillotson's Sermons.' Poor Denison!&rdquo; (That was the
+      rosy curate's name.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Fanny, turning red, &ldquo;I told you I <i>should.</i> Why should I
+      be good any longer? All the sick are cured one way or other, and I am
+      myself again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; said Vizard. &ldquo;Unfortunately for your little plans of conduct, the
+      heads of this establishment, here present, have sat in secret committee,
+      and your wings are to be clipped&mdash;by order of council.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La!&rdquo; said Fanny, pertly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vizard imposed silence with a lordly wave. &ldquo;It is a laughable thing; but
+      this divine is in earnest. He has revealed his hopes and fears to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then he is a great baby,&rdquo; said Fanny, coming down the steps. &ldquo;No, no; we
+      are both too poor.&rdquo; And she vented a little sigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not you. The vicar has written to vacate. Now, I don't like you much,
+      because you never make me laugh; but I'm awfully fond of Denison; and, if
+      you will marry my dear Denison, you shall have the vicarage; it is a fat
+      one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, cousin!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And,&rdquo; said Mrs. Vizard, &ldquo;he permits me to furnish it for you. You and I
+      will make it 'a bijou.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+Fanny kissed them both, impetuously: then said she would have a little
+cry. No sooner said than done. In due course she was Mrs. Denison, and
+broke a solemn vow that she never would teach girls St. Matthew.
+
+ Like coquettes in general, who have had their fling at the proper time,
+she makes a pretty good wife; but she has one fault&mdash;she is too hard upon
+girls who flirt.
+
+ Mr. Ashmead flourishes. Besides his agency she sometimes treats for a
+new piece, collects a little company, and tours the provincial theaters.
+He always plays them a week at Taddington, and with perfect gravity loses
+six pounds per night. Then he has a &ldquo;bespeak,&rdquo; Vizard or Uxmoor turn
+about. There is a line of carriages; the snobs crowd in to see the
+gentry. Vizard pays twenty pounds for his box, and takes twenty pounds'
+worth of tickets, and Joseph is in his glory, and stays behind the
+company to go to Islip Church next day, and spend a happy night at the
+Court. After that he says he feels <i>good</i> for three or four days.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Gale now leases the Hillstoke farm of Vizard, and does pretty well.
+      She breeds a great many sheep and cattle. The high ground and sheltering
+      woods suit them. She makes a little money every year, and gets a very good
+      house for nothing. Doctress Gale is still all eyes, and notices
+      everything. She studies hard, and practices a little. They tried to keep
+      her out of the Taddington infirmary; but she went, almost crying, to
+      Vizard, and he exploded with wrath. He consulted Lord Uxmoor, and between
+      them the infirmary was threatened with the withdrawal of eighty annual
+      subscriptions if they persisted. The managers caved directly, and Doctress
+      Gale is a steady visitor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A few mothers are coming to their senses and sending for her to their
+      unmarried daughters. This is the main source of her professional income.
+      She has, however, taken one enormous fee from a bon vivant, whose life she
+      saved by esculents. She told him at once he was beyond the reach of
+      medicine, and she could do nothing for him unless he chose to live in her
+      house, and eat and drink only what she should give him. He had a horror of
+      dying, though he had lived so well; so he submitted, and she did actually
+      cure that one glutton. But she says she will never do it again. &ldquo;After
+      forty years of made dishes they ought to be content to die; it is bare
+      justice,&rdquo; quoth Rhoda Gale, M.D.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      An apothecary in Barford threatened to indict this Gallic physician. But
+      the other medical men dissuaded him, partly from liberality, partly from
+      discretion: the fine would have been paid by public subscription twenty
+      times over and nothing gained but obloquy. The doctress would never have
+      yielded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She visits, and prescribes, and laughs at the law, as love is said to
+      laugh at locksmiths.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To be sure, in this country, a law is no law, when it has no foundation in
+      justice, morality, or public policy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Happy in her position, and in her friends, she now reviews past events
+      with the candor of a mind that loves truth sincerely. She went into
+      Vizard's study one day, folded her arms, and delivered herself as follows:
+      &ldquo;I guess there's something I ought to say to you. When I told you about
+      our treatment at Edinburgh, the wound still bled, and I did not measure my
+      words as I ought, professing science. Now I feel a call to say that the
+      Edinburgh school was, after all, more liberal to us than any other in
+      Great Britain or Ireland. The others closed the door in our faces. This
+      school opened it half. At first there was a liberal spirit; but the
+      friends of justice got frightened, and the unionists stronger. We were
+      overpowered at every turn. But what I omitted to impress on you, is, that
+      when we were defeated, it was always by very small majorities. That was so
+      even with the opinions of the judges, which have been delivered since I
+      told you my tale. There were six jurists, and only seven pettifoggers. It
+      was so all through. Now, for practical purposes, the act of a majority is
+      the act of a body. It must be so. It is the way of the world: but when an
+      accurate person comes to describe a business, and deal with the character
+      of a whole university, she is not to call the larger half the whole, and
+      make the matter worse than it was. That is not scientific. Science
+      discriminates.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I am not sorry the doctress offered this little explanation; it accords
+      with her sober mind and her veneration of truth. But I could have
+      dispensed with it for one. In Britain, when we are hurt, we howl; and the
+      deuce is in it if the weak may not howl when the strong overpower them by
+      the arts of the weak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Should that part of my tale rouse any honest sympathy with this English
+      woman who can legally prescribe, consult, and take fees, in France, but
+      not in England, though she could eclipse at a public examination
+      nine-tenths of those who can, it may be as well to inform them that, even
+      while her narrative was in the press, our Government declared it would do
+      something for the relief of medical women, but would sleep upon it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This is, on the whole, encouraging. But still, where there is no stimulus
+      of faction or personal interest to urge a measure, but only such
+      &ldquo;unconsidered trifles&rdquo; as public justice and public policy, there are
+      always two great dangers: 1. That the sleep may know no waking; 2. That
+      after too long a sleep the British legislator may jump out of bed all in a
+      hurry, and do the work ineffectually; for nothing leads oftener to
+      reckless haste than long delay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I hope, then, that a few of my influential readers will be vigilant, and
+      challenge a full discussion by the whole mind of Parliament, so that no
+      temporary, pettifogging half-measure may slip into a thin house&mdash;like
+      a weasel into an empty barn&mdash;and so obstruct for many years
+      legislation upon durable principle. The thing lies in a nutshell. The
+      Legislature has been entrapped. It never intended to outlaw women in the
+      matter. The persons who have outlawed them are all subjects, and the
+      engines of outlawry have been &ldquo;certificates of attendance on lectures,&rdquo;
+       and &ldquo;public examinations.&rdquo; By closing the lecture room and the examination
+      hall to all women&mdash;learned or unlearned&mdash;a clique has outlawed a
+      population, under the letter, not the spirit, of a badly written statute.
+      But it is for the three estates of the British realm to leave off
+      scribbling statutes, and learn to write them, and to bridle the egotism of
+      cliques, and respect the nation. The present form of government exists on
+      that understanding, and so must all forms of government in England. And it
+      is so easy. It only wants a little singleness of mind and common sense.
+      Years ago certificates of attendance on various lectures were reasonably
+      demanded. They were a slight presumptive evidence of proficiency, and had
+      a supplementary value, because the public examinations were so loose and
+      inadequate; but once establish a stiff, searching, sufficient,
+      incorruptible, public examination, and then to have passed that
+      examination is not presumptive, but demonstrative, proof of proficiency,
+      and swallows up all minor and merely presumptive proofs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There is nothing much stupider than anachronism. What avail certificates
+      of lectures in our day? either the knowledge obtained at the lectures
+      enables the pupil to pass the great examination, or it does not. If it
+      does, the certificate is superfluous; if it does not, the certificate is
+      illusory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What the British legislator, if for once he would rise to be a lawgiver,
+      should do, and that quickly, is to throw open the medical schools to all
+      persons for matriculation. To throw open all hospitals and infirmaries to
+      matriculated students, without respect of sex, as they are already open,
+      by shameless partiality and transparent greed, to unmatriculated women,
+      provided they confine their ambition to the most repulsive and unfeminine
+      part of medicine, the nursing of both sexes, and laying out of corpses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Both the above rights, as independent of sex as other natural rights,
+      should be expressly protected by &ldquo;mandamus,&rdquo; and &ldquo;suit for damages.&rdquo; The
+      lecturers to be compelled to lecture to mixed classes, or to give separate
+      lectures to matriculated women for half fees, whichever those lecturers
+      prefer. Before this clause all difficulties would melt, like hail in the
+      dog days. Male modesty is a purely imaginary article, set up for a trade
+      purpose, and will give way to justice the moment it costs the proprietors
+      fifty per cent. I know my own sex from hair to heel, and will take my
+      Bible oath of <i>that.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of the foreign matriculated student, British or European, nothing should
+      be demanded but the one thing, which matters one straw&mdash;viz.,
+      infallible proofs of proficiency in anatomy, surgery, medicine, and its
+      collaterals, under public examination. This, which is the only real
+      safeguard, and the only necessary safeguard to the public, and the only
+      one <i>the public</i> ask, should be placed, in some degree, under <i>the
+      sure control of Government</i> without respect of cities; and much greater
+      vigilance exercised than ever has been yet. Why, under the system which
+      excludes learned women, male dunces have been personated by able students,
+      and so diplomas stolen again and again. The student, male or female,
+      should have power to compel the examiners, by mandamus and other stringent
+      remedies, to examine at fit times and seasons. In all the <i>paper work</i>
+      of these examinations, the name, and of course the sex, of the student
+      should be concealed from the examiners. There is a very simple way of
+      doing it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Should a law be passed on this broad and simple basis, that law will stand
+      immortal, with pettifogging acts falling all around, according to the
+      custom of the country. The larger half of the population will no longer be
+      unconstitutionally juggled, under cover of law, out of their right to take
+      their secret ailments to a skilled physician of their own sex, and
+      compelled to go, blushing, writhing, and, after all, concealing and
+      fibbing, to a male physician; the picked few no longer robbed of their
+      right to science, reputation, and Bread.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The good effect on the whole mind of woman would be incalculable. Great
+      prizes of study and genius offered to the able few have always a salutary
+      and wonderful operation on the many who never gain them; it would be great
+      and glad tidings to our whole female youth to say, &ldquo;You need not be
+      frivolous idlers; you need not give the colts fifty yards' start for the
+      Derby&mdash;I mean, you need not waste three hours of the short working
+      day in dressing and undressing, and combing your hair. You need not throw
+      away the very seed&mdash;time of life on music, though you are unmusical
+      to the backbone; nor yet on your three 'C's'&mdash;croquet, crochet, and
+      coquetry: for Civilization and sound Law have opened to you one great,
+      noble, and difficult profession with three branches, two of which Nature
+      intended you for. The path is arduous, but flowers grow beside it, and the
+      prize is great.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I say that this prize, and frequent intercourse with those superior women
+      who have won it, would leaven the whole sex with higher views of life than
+      enter their heads at present; would raise their self-respect, and set
+      thousands of them to study the great and noble things that are in
+      medicine, and connected with it, instead of childish things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Is there really one manly heart that would grudge this boon to a sex which
+      is the nurse and benefactress of every man in his tender and most
+      precarious years?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Realize the hard condition of women. Among barbarians their lot is unmixed
+      misery; with us their condition is better, but not what it ought to be,
+      because we are but half civilized, and so their lot is still very unhappy
+      compared with ours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And we are so unreasonable. We men cannot go straight ten yards without <i>rewards</i>
+      as well as punishments. Yet we could govern our women by punishments
+      alone. They are eternally tempted to folly, yet snubbed the moment they
+      would be wise. A million shops spread their nets, and entice them by their
+      direst foible. Their very mothers&mdash;for want of medical knowledge in
+      the sex&mdash;clasp the fatal, idiotic corset on their growing bodies,
+      though thin as a lath. So the girl grows up, crippled in the ribs and
+      lungs by her own mother; and her life, too, is in stays&mdash;cabined,
+      cribbed, confined: unless she can paint, or act, or write novels, every
+      path of honorable ambition is closed to her. We treat her as we do our
+      private soldiers&mdash;the lash, but no promotion; and our private
+      soldiers are the scum of Europe for that very reason, and no other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I say that to open the study and practice of medicine to women folk, under
+      the infallible safeguard of a stiff public examination, will be to rise in
+      respect for human rights to the level of European nations, who do not brag
+      about just freedom half as loud as we do, and to respect the
+      constitutional rights of many million citizens, who all pay the taxes like
+      men, and, by the contract with the State implied in that payment, buy the
+      clear human right they have yet to go down on their knees for. It will
+      also import into medical science a new and less theoretical, but cautious,
+      teachable, observant kind of intellect; it will give the larger half of
+      the nation an honorable ambition, and an honorable pursuit, toward which
+      their hearts and instincts are bent by Nature herself; it will tend to
+      elevate this whole sex, and its young children, male as well as female,
+      and so will advance the civilization of the world, which in ages past, in
+      our own day, and in all time, hath, and doth, and will, keep step exactly
+      with the progress of women toward mental equality with men.
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 6em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Woman-Hater, by Charles Reade
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Woman-Hater
+
+Author: Charles Reade
+
+
+Release Date: January, 2003  [Etext #3669]
+The actual date this file first posted: July 11, 2001
+Last Updated: April 12, 2013
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOMAN-HATER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by James Rusk
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A WOMAN-HATER.
+
+By Charles Reade
+
+
+
+Italics are indicated by the
+underscore character. Accent marks are indicated by a single quote
+(') after the vowel for acute accents and before the vowel for grave
+accents. Other accent marks are ignored.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+"THE Golden Star," Homburg, was a humble hotel, not used by gay gamblers,
+but by modest travelers.
+
+At two o'clock, one fine day in June, there were two strangers in the
+_salle a' manger,_ seated at small tables a long way apart, and wholly
+absorbed in their own business.
+
+One was a lady about twenty-four years old, who, in the present repose of
+her features, looked comely, sedate, and womanly, but not the remarkable
+person she really was. Her forehead high and white, but a little broader
+than sculptors affect; her long hair, coiled tight, in a great many
+smooth snakes, upon her snowy nape, was almost flaxen, yet her eyebrows
+and long lashes not pale but a reddish brown; her gray eyes large and
+profound; her mouth rather large, beautifully shaped, amiable, and
+expressive, but full of resolution; her chin a little broad; her neck and
+hands admirably white and polished. She was an Anglo-Dane--her father
+English.
+
+If you ask me what she was doing, why--hunting; and had been, for some
+days, in all the inns of Homburg. She had the visitors' book, and was
+going through the names of the whole year, and studying each to see
+whether it looked real or assumed. Interspersed were flippant comments,
+and verses adapted to draw a smile of amusement or contempt; but this
+hunter passed them all over as nullities: the steady pose of her head,
+the glint of her deep eye, and the set of her fine lips showed a soul not
+to be diverted from its object.
+
+The traveler at her back had a map of the district and blank telegrams,
+one of which he filled in every now and then, and scribbled a hasty
+letter to the same address. He was a sharp-faced middle-aged man of
+business; Joseph Ashmead, operatic and theatrical agent--at his wits'
+end; a female singer at the Homburg Opera had fallen really ill; he was
+commissioned to replace her, and had only thirty hours to do it in. So he
+was hunting a singer. What the lady was hunting can never be known,
+unless she should choose to reveal it.
+
+Karl, the waiter, felt bound to rouse these abstracted guests, and
+stimulate their appetites. He affected, therefore, to look on them as
+people who had not yet breakfasted, and tripped up to Mr. Ashmead with a
+bill of fare, rather scanty.
+
+The busiest Englishman can eat, and Ashmead had no objection to snatch a
+mouthful; he gave his order in German with an English accent. But the
+lady, when appealed to, said softly, in pure German, "I will wait for the
+_table-d'hote."_
+
+"The _table-d'hote!_ It wants four hours to that."
+
+The lady looked Karl full in the face, and said, slowly, and very
+distinctly, "Then, I--will--wait--four--hours."
+
+These simple words, articulated firmly, and in a contralto voice of
+singular volume and sweetness, sent Karl skipping; but their effect on
+Mr. Ashmead was more remarkable. He started up from his chair with an
+exclamation, and bent his eyes eagerly on the melodious speaker. He could
+only see her back hair and her figure; but, apparently, this quick-eared
+gentleman had also quick eyes, for he said aloud, in English, "Her hair,
+too--it must be;" and he came hurriedly toward her. She caught a word or
+two, and turned and saw him. "Ah!" said she, and rose; but the points of
+her fingers still rested on the book.
+
+"It is!" cried Ashmead. "It is!"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Ashmead," said the lady, coloring a little, but in pure
+English, and with a composure not easily disturbed; "it is Ina Klosking."
+
+"What a pleasure," cried Ashmead; and what a surprise! Ah, madam, I never
+hoped to see you again. When I heard you had left the Munich Opera so
+sudden, I said, 'There goes one more bright star quenched forever.' And
+you to desert us--you, the risingest singer in Germany!"
+
+"Mr. Ashmead!"
+
+"You can't deny it. You know you were."
+
+The lady, thus made her own judge, seemed to reflect a moment, and said,
+"I was a well-grounded musician, thanks to my parents; I was a very
+hard-working singer; and I had the advantage of being supported, in my
+early career, by a gentleman of judgment and spirit, who was a manager at
+first, and brought me forward, afterward a popular agent, and talked
+managers into a good opinion of me."
+
+"Ah, madam," said Ashmead, tenderly, "it is a great pleasure to hear this
+from you, and spoken with that mellow voice which would charm a
+rattlesnake; but what would my zeal and devotion have availed if you had
+not been a born singer?"
+
+"Why--yes," said Ina, thoughtfully; "I was a singer." But she seemed to
+say this not as a thing to be proud of, but only because it happened to
+be true; and, indeed, it was a peculiarity of this woman that she
+appeared nearly always to think--if but for half a moment--before she
+spoke, and to say things, whether about herself or others, only because
+they were the truth. The reader who shall condescend to bear this in mind
+will possess some little clew to the color and effect of her words as
+spoken. Often, where they seem simple and commonplace--on paper, they
+were weighty by their extraordinary air of truthfulness as well as by the
+deep music of her mellow, bell-like voice.
+
+"Oh, you do admit that," said Mr. Ashmead, with a chuckle; "then why jump
+off the ladder so near the top? Oh, of course I know--the old story--but
+you might give twenty-two hours to love, and still spare a couple to
+music."
+
+"That seems a reasonable division," said Ina, naively. "But"
+(apologetically) "he was jealous."
+
+"Jealous!--more shame for him. I'm sure no lady in public life was ever
+more discreet."
+
+"No, no; he was only jealous of the public."
+
+"And what had the poor public done?"
+
+"Absorbed me, he said."
+
+"Why, he could take you to the opera, and take you home from the opera,
+and, during the opera, he could make one of the public, and applaud you
+as loud as the best."
+
+"Yes, but rehearsals!--and--embracing the tenor."
+
+"Well, but only on the stage?"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Ashmead, where else does one embrace the tenor?"
+
+"And was that a grievance? Why, I'd embrace fifty tenors--if I was paid
+proportionable."
+
+"Yes; but he said I embraced one poor stick, with a fervor--an
+_abandon_--Well, I dare say I did; for, if they had put a gate-post in
+the middle of the stage, and it was in my part to embrace the thing, I
+should have done it honestly, for love of my art, and not of a post. The
+next time I had to embrace the poor stick it was all I could do not to
+pinch him savagely."
+
+"And turn him to a counter-tenor--make him squeak."
+
+Ina Klosking smiled for the first time. Ashmead, too, chuckled at his own
+wit, but turned suddenly grave the next moment, and moralized. He
+pronounced it desirable, for the interests of mankind, that a great and
+rising singer should not love out of the business; outsiders were
+wrong-headed and absurd, and did not understand the true artist. However,
+having discoursed for some time in this strain, he began to fear it might
+be unpalatable to her; so he stopped abruptly, and said, "But there--what
+is done is done. We must make the best of it; and you mustn't think I
+meant to run _him_ down. He loves you, in his way. He must be a noble
+fellow, or he never could have won such a heart as yours. He won't be
+jealous of an old fellow like me, though I love you, too, in my humdrum
+way, and always did. You must do me the honor to present me to him at
+once."
+
+Ina stared at him, but said nothing.
+
+"Oh," continued Ashmead, "I shall be busy till evening; but I will ask
+him and you to dine with me at the Kursaal, and then adjourn to the Royal
+Box. You are a queen of song, and that is where you and he shall sit, and
+nowhere else."
+
+Ina Klosking was changing color all this time, and cast a grateful but
+troubled look on him. "My kind, old faithful friend!" said she, then
+shook her head. "No, we are not to dine with you; nor sit together at the
+opera, in Homburg."
+
+Ashmead looked a little chagrined. "So be it," he said dryly. "But at
+least introduce me to him. I'll try and overcome his prejudices."
+
+"It is not even in my power to do that."
+
+"Oh, I see. I'm not good enough for him," said Ashmead, bitterly.
+
+"You do yourself injustice, and him too," said Ina, courteously.
+
+"Well, then?"
+
+"My friend," said she, deprecatingly, "he is not here."
+
+"Not here? That is odd. Well, then, you will be dull till he comes back.
+Come without him; at all events, to the opera."
+
+She turned her tortured eyes away. "I have not the heart."
+
+This made Ashmead look at her more attentively. "Why, what is the
+matter?" said he. "You are in trouble. I declare you are trembling, and
+your eyes are filling. My poor lady--in Heaven's name, what is the
+matter?"
+
+"Hush!" said Ina; "not so loud." Then she looked him in the face a little
+while, blushed, hesitated, faltered, and at last laid one white hand upon
+her bosom, that was beginning to heave, and said, with patient dignity,
+"My old friend--I--am--deserted."
+
+
+Ashmead looked at her with amazement and incredulity. "Deserted!" said
+he, faintly. "You--deserted!!!"
+
+"Yes," said she, "deserted; but perhaps not forever." Her noble eyes
+filled to the brim, and two tears stood ready to run over.
+
+"Why, the man must be an idiot!" shouted Ashmead.
+
+"Hush! not so loud. That waiter is listening: let me come to your table."
+
+She came and sat down at his table, and he sat opposite her. They looked
+at each other. He waited for her to speak. With all her fortitude, her
+voice faltered, under the eye of sympathy. "You are my old friend," she
+said. "I'll try and tell you all." But she could not all in a moment, and
+the two tears trickled over and ran down her cheeks; Ashmead saw them,
+and burst out, "The villain!--the villain!"
+
+"No, no," said she, "do not call him that. I could not bear it. Believe
+me, he is no villain." Then she dried her eyes, and said, resolutely, "If
+I am to tell you, you must not apply harsh words to him. They would close
+my mouth at once, and close my heart."
+
+"I won't say a word," said Ashmead, submissively; "so tell me all."
+
+Ina reflected a moment, and then told her tale. Dealing now with longer
+sentences, she betrayed her foreign half.
+
+"Being alone so long," said she, "has made me reflect more than in all my
+life before, and I now understand many things that, at the time, I could
+not. He to whom I have given my love, and resigned the art in which I was
+advancing--with your assistance--is, by nature, impetuous and inconstant.
+He was born so, and I the opposite. His love for me was too violent to
+last forever in any man, and it soon cooled in him, because he is
+inconstant by nature. He was jealous of the public: he must have all my
+heart, and all my time, and so he wore his own passion out. Then his
+great restlessness, having now no chain, became too strong for our
+happiness. He pined for change, as some wanderers pine for a fixed home.
+Is it not strange? I, a child of the theater, am at heart domestic. He, a
+gentleman and a scholar, born, bred, and fitted to adorn the best
+society, is by nature a Bohemian.
+
+"One word: is there another woman?"
+
+"No, not that I know of; Heaven forbid!" said Ina. "But there is
+something very dreadful: there is gambling. He has a passion for it, and
+I fear I wearied him by my remonstrances. He dragged me about from one
+gambling-place to another, and I saw that if I resisted he would go
+without me. He lost a fortune while we were together, and I do really
+believe he is ruined, poor dear."
+
+Ashmead suppressed all signs of ill-temper, and asked, grimly, "Did he
+quarrel with you, then?"
+
+"Oh, no; he never said an unkind word to me; and I was not always so
+forbearing, for I passed months of torment. I saw that affection, which
+was my all, gliding gradually away from me; and the tortured will cry
+out. I am not an ungoverned woman, but sometimes the agony was
+intolerable, and I complained. Well, that agony, I long for it back; for
+now I am desolate."
+
+"Poor soul! How could a man have the heart to leave you? how could he
+have the face?"
+
+"Oh, he did not do it shamelessly. He left me for a week, to visit
+friends in England. But he wrote to me from London. He had left me at
+Berlin. He said that he did not like to tell me before parting, but I
+must not expect to see him for six weeks; and he desired me to go to my
+mother in Denmark. He would send his next letter to me there. Ah! he knew
+I should need my mother when his second letter came. He had planned it
+all, that the blow might not kill me. He wrote to tell me he was a ruined
+man, and he was too proud to let me support him: he begged my pardon for
+his love, for his desertion, for ever having crossed my brilliant path
+like a dark cloud. He praised me, he thanked me, he blessed me; but he
+left me. It was a beautiful letter, but it was the death-warrant of my
+heart. I was abandoned."
+
+Ashmead started up and walked very briskly, with a great appearance of
+business requiring vast dispatch, to the other end of the _salle;_ and
+there, being out of Ina's hearing, he spoke his mind to a candlestick
+with three branches. "D--n him! Heartless, sentimental scoundrel! D--n
+him! D--n him!"
+
+Having relieved his mind with this pious ejaculation, he returned to Ina
+at a reasonable pace and much relieved, and was now enabled to say,
+cheerfully, "Let us take a business view of it. He is gone--gone of his
+own accord. Give him your blessing--I have given him mine--and forget
+him."
+
+"Forget him! Never while I live. Is that your advice? Oh, Mr. Ashmead!
+And the moment I saw your friendly face, I said to myself, 'I am no
+longer alone: here is one that will help me.'"
+
+"And so I will, you may be sure of that," said Ashmead, eagerly. "What is
+the business?"
+
+"The business is to find him. That is the first thing."
+
+"But he is in England."
+
+"Oh, no; that was eight months ago. He could not stay eight months in any
+country; besides, there are no gambling-houses there."
+
+"And have you been eight months searching Europe for this madman?"
+
+"No. At first pride and anger were strong, and I said, 'Here I stay till
+he comes back to me and to his senses.'"
+
+"Brava!"
+
+"Yes; but month after month went by, carrying away my pride and my anger,
+and leaving my affection undiminished. At last I could bear it no longer;
+so, as he would not come to his senses--"
+
+"You took leave of yours, and came out on a wild-goose chase," said
+Ashmead, but too regretfully to affront her.
+
+"It _was,"_ said Ina; "I feel it. But it is not one _now,_ because I have
+_you_ to assist me with your experience and ability. You will find him
+for me, somehow or other. I know you will."
+
+Let a woman have ever so little guile, she must have tact, if she is a
+true woman. Now, tact, if its etymology is to be trusted, implies a fine
+sense and power of touch; so, in virtue of her sex, she pats a horse
+before she rides him, and a man before she drives him. There, ladies,
+there is an indictment in two counts; traverse either of them if you can.
+
+Joseph Ashmead, thus delicately but effectually manipulated, swelled with
+gratified vanity and said, "You are quite right; you can't do this sort
+of thing yourself; you want an agent."
+
+"Of course I do."
+
+"Well, you have got one. Now let me see--fifty to one he is not at
+Homburg at all. If he is, he most likely stays at Frankfort. He is a
+swell, is he not?"
+
+"Swell!" said the Anglo-Dane, puzzled. "Not that I am aware of." She was
+strictly on her guard against vituperation of her beloved scamp.
+
+"Pooh, pooh!" said Ashmead; "of course he is, and not the sort to lodge
+in Homburg."
+
+"Then behold my incompetence!" said Ina.
+
+"But _the_ place to look for him is the gambling-saloon. Been there?"
+
+"Oh, no."
+
+"Then you must."
+
+"What! Me! Alone?"
+
+"No; with your agent."
+
+"Oh, my friend; I said you would find him."
+
+"What a woman! She will have it he is in Homburg. And suppose we do find
+him, and you should not be welcome?"
+
+"I shall not be unwelcome. _I shall be a change."_
+
+"Shall I tell you how to draw him to Homburg, wherever he is?" said
+Ashmead, very demurely.
+
+"Yes, tell me that."
+
+"And do _me_ a good turn into the bargain."
+
+"Is it possible? Can I be so fortunate?"
+
+"Yes; and _as you say,_ it _is_ a slice of luck to be able to kill two
+birds with one stone. Why, consider--the way to recover a man is not to
+run after him, but to make him run to you. It is like catching moths; you
+don't run out into the garden after them; you light the candle and open
+the window, and _they_ do the rest--as he will."
+
+"Yes, yes; but what am I to do for _you?"_ asked Ina, getting a little
+uneasy and suspicious.
+
+"What! didn't I tell you?" said Ashmead, with cool effrontery. "Why, only
+to sing for me in this little opera, that is all." And he put his hands
+in his pockets, and awaited thunder-claps.
+
+"Oh, that is all, is it?" said Ina, panting a little, and turning two
+great, reproachful eyes on him.
+
+"That is all," said he, stoutly. "Why, what attracted him at first?
+Wasn't it your singing, the admiration of the public, the bouquets and
+bravas? What caught the moth once will catch it again 'moping' won't. And
+surely you will not refuse to draw him, merely because you can pull me
+out of a fix into the bargain. Look here, I have undertaken to find a
+singer by to-morrow night; and what chance is there of my getting even a
+third-rate one? Why, the very hour I have spent so agreeably, talking to
+you, has diminished my chance."
+
+"Oh!" said Ina, "this is _driving_ me into your net."
+
+"I own it," said Joseph, cheerfully; "I'm quite unscrupulous, because I
+know you will thank me afterward."
+
+"The very idea of going back to the stage makes me tremble," said Ina.
+
+"Of course it does; and those who tremble succeed. In a long experience I
+never knew an instance to the contrary. It is the conceited fools, who
+feel safe, that are in danger."
+
+"What is the part?"
+
+"One you know--Siebel in 'Faust,' with two new songs."
+
+"Excuse me, I do not know it."
+
+"Why, everybody knows it."
+
+"You mean everybody has heard it sung. I know neither the music nor the
+words, and I cannot sing incorrectly even for you."
+
+"Oh, you can master the airs in a day, and the cackle in half an hour."
+
+"I am not so expeditious. If you are serious, get me the book--oh! he
+calls the poet's words the cackle--and the music of the part directly,
+and borrow me the score."
+
+"Borrow you the score! Ah! that shows the school you were bred in. I gaze
+at you with admiration."
+
+"Then please don't, for we have not a moment to waste. You have terrified
+me out of my senses. Fly!"
+
+"Yes; but before I fly, there is something to be settled--salary!"
+
+"As much as they will give."
+
+"Of course; but give me a hint."
+
+"No, no; you will get me some money, for I am poor. I gave all my savings
+to my dear mother, and settled her on a farm in dear old Denmark. But I
+really sing for _you_ more than for Homburg, so make no difficulties.
+Above all, do not discuss salary with me. Settle it and draw it for me,
+and let me hear no more about that. I am on thorns."
+
+
+
+He soon found the director, and told him, excitedly, there was a way out
+of his present difficulty. Ina Klosking was in the town. He had implored
+her to return to the opera. She had refused at first; but he had used all
+his influence with her, and at last had obtained a half promise on
+conditions--a two months' engagement; certain parts, which he specified
+out of his own head; salary, a hundred thalers per night, and a half
+clear benefit on her last appearance.
+
+The director demurred to the salary.
+
+Ashmead said he was mad: she was the German Alboni; her low notes like a
+trumpet, and the compass of a mezzo-soprano besides.
+
+The director yielded, and drew up the engagement in duplicate. Ashmead
+then borrowed the music and came back to the inn triumphant. He waved the
+agreement over his head, then submitted it to her. She glanced at it,
+made a wry face, and said, "Two months! I never dreamed of such a thing."
+
+"Not worth your while to do it for less," said Ashmead. "Come," said he,
+authoritatively, "you have got a good bargain every way; so sign."
+
+She lifted her head high, and looked at him like a lioness, at being
+ordered.
+
+Ashmead replied by putting the paper before her and giving her the pen.
+
+She cast one more reproachful glance, then signed like a lamb.
+
+"Now," said she, turning fretful, "I want a piano."
+
+"You shall have one," said he coaxingly. He went to the landlord and
+inquired if there was a piano in the house.
+
+"Yes, there is one," said he.
+
+"And it is mine," said a sharp female voice.
+
+"May I beg the use of it?"
+
+"No," said the lady, a tall, bony spinster. "I cannot have it strummed on
+and put out of tune by everybody."
+
+"But this is not everybody. The lady I want it for is a professional
+musician. Top of the tree."
+
+"The hardest strummers going."
+
+"But, mademoiselle, this lady is going to sing at the opera. She _must_
+study. She _must_ have a piano.
+
+"But [grimly] she need not have mine.
+
+"Then she must leave the hotel."
+
+"Oh [haughtily], _that_ is as she pleases."
+
+Ashmead went to Ina Klosking in a rage and told her all this, and said he
+would take her to another hotel kept by a Frenchman: these Germans were
+bears. But Ina Klosking just shrugged her shoulders, and said, "Take me
+to her."
+
+He did so; and she said, in German, "Madam, I can quite understand your
+reluctance to have your piano strummed. But as your hotel is quiet and
+respectable, and I am unwilling to leave it, will you permit me to play
+to you? and then you shall decide whether I am worthy to stay or not."
+
+The spinster drank those mellow accents, colored a little, looked keenly
+at the speaker, and, after a moment's reflection, said, half sullenly,
+"No, madam, you are polite. I must risk my poor piano. Be pleased to come
+with me."
+
+She then conducted them to a large, unoccupied room on the first-floor,
+and unlocked the piano, a very fine one, and in perfect tune.
+
+Ina sat down, and performed a composition then in vogue.
+
+"You play correctly, madam," said the spinster; "but your music--what
+stuff! Such things are null. They vex the ear a little, but they never
+reach the mind."
+
+Ashmead was wroth, and could hardly contain himself; but the Klosking was
+amused, and rather pleased. "Mademoiselle has positive tastes in music,"
+said she; "all the better."
+
+"Yes," said the spinster, "most music is mere noise. I hate and despise
+forty-nine compositions out of fifty; but the fiftieth I adore. Give me
+something simple, with a little soul in it--if you can."
+
+Ina Klosking looked at her, and observed her age and her dress, the
+latter old-fashioned. She said, quietly, "Will mademoiselle do me the
+honor to stand before me? I will sing her a trifle my mother taught me."
+
+The spinster complied, and stood erect and stiff, with her arms folded.
+Ina fixed her deep eyes on her, playing a liquid prelude all the time,
+then swelled her chest and sung the old Venetian cauzonet, "Il pescatore
+de'll' onda." It is a small thing, but there is no limit to the genius of
+song. The Klosking sung this trifle with a voice so grand, sonorous, and
+sweet, and, above all, with such feeling, taste, and purity, that somehow
+she transported her hearers to Venetian waters, moonlit, and thrilled
+them to the heart, while the great glass chandelier kept ringing very
+audibly, so true, massive, and vibrating were her tones in that large,
+empty room.
+
+At the first verse that cross-grained spinster, with real likes and
+dislikes, put a bony hand quietly before her eyes. At the last, she made
+three strides, as a soldier marches, and fell all of a piece, like a
+wooden _mannequin,_ on the singer's neck. "Take my piano," she sobbed,
+"for you have taken the heart out of my body."
+
+Ina returned her embrace, and did not conceal her pleasure. "I am very
+proud of such a conquest," said she.
+
+From that hour Ina was the landlady's pet. The room and piano were made
+over to her, and, being in a great fright at what she had undertaken, she
+studied and practiced her part night and day. She made Ashmead call a
+rehearsal next day, and she came home from it wretched and almost
+hysterical.
+
+She summoned her slave Ashmead; he stood before her with an air of
+hypocritical submission.
+
+"The Flute was not at rehearsal, sir," said she, severely, "nor the Oboe,
+nor the Violoncello."
+
+"Just like 'em," said Ashmead, tranquilly.
+
+"The tenor is a quavering stick. He is one of those who think that an
+unmanly trembling of the voice represents every manly passion."
+
+"Their name is legion."
+
+"The soprano is insipid. And they are all imperfect--contentedly
+imperfect, How can people sing incorrectly? It is like lying."
+
+"That is what makes it so common--he! he!"
+
+"I do not desire wit, but consolation. I believe you are Mephistopheles
+himself in disguise; for ever since I signed that diabolical compact you
+made me, I have been in a state of terror, agitation, misgiving, and
+misery--and I thank and bless you for it; for these thorns and nettles
+they lacerate me, and make me live. They break the dull, lethargic agony
+of utter desolation."
+
+Then, as her nerves were female nerves, and her fortitude female
+fortitude, she gave way, for once, and began to cry patiently.
+
+Ashmead the practical went softly away and left her, as we must leave her
+for a time, to battle her business with one hand and her sorrow with the
+other.
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+IN the Hotel Russie, at Frankfort, there was a grand apartment, lofty,
+spacious, and richly furnished, with a broad balcony overlooking the
+Platz, and roofed, so to speak, with colored sun-blinds, which softened
+the glare of the Rhineland sun to a rosy and mellow light.
+
+In the veranda, a tall English gentleman was leaning over the balcony,
+smoking a cigar, and being courted by a fair young lady. Her light-gray
+eyes dwelt on him in a way to magnetize a man, and she purred pretty
+nothings at his ear, in a soft tone she reserved for males. Her voice was
+clear, loud, and rather high-pitched whenever she spoke to a person of
+her own sex; a comely English blonde, with pale eyelashes; a keen,
+sensible girl, and not a downright wicked one; only born artful. This was
+Fanny Dover; and the tall gentleman--whose relation she was, and whose
+wife she resolved to be in one year, three years, or ten, according to
+his power of resistance--was Harrington Vizard, a Barfordshire squire,
+with twelve thousand acres and a library.
+
+As for Fanny, she had only two thousand pounds in all the world; so
+compensating Nature endowed her with a fair complexion, gray, mesmeric
+eyes, art, and resolution--qualities that often enable a poor girl to
+conquer landed estates, with their male incumbrances.
+
+Beautiful and delicate--on the surface--as was Miss Dover's courtship of
+her first cousin once removed, it did not strike fire; it neither pleased
+nor annoyed him; it fell as dead as a lantern firing on an iceberg. Not
+that he disliked her by any means. But he was thirty-two, had seen the
+world, and had been unlucky with women. So he was now a _divorce',_ and a
+declared woman-hater; railed on them, and kept them at arm's-length,
+Fanny Dover included. It was really comical to see with what perfect
+coolness and cynical apathy he parried the stealthy advances of this
+cat-like girl, a mistress in the art of pleasing--when she chose.
+
+Inside the room, on a couch of crimson velvet, sat a young lady of rare
+and dazzling beauty. Her face was a long but perfect oval, pure forehead,
+straight nose, with exquisite nostrils; coral lips, and ivory teeth. But
+what first struck the beholder were her glorious dark eyes, and
+magnificent eyebrows as black as jet. Her hair was really like a raven's
+dark-purple wing.
+
+These beauties, in a stern character, might have inspired awe; the more
+so as her form and limbs were grand and statuesque for her age; but all
+was softened down to sweet womanhood by long, silken lashes, often
+lowered, and a gracious face that blushed at a word, blushed little,
+blushed much, blushed pinky, blushed pink, blushed roseate, blushed rosy;
+and, I am sorry to say, blushed crimson, and even scarlet, in the course
+of those events I am about to record, as unblushing as turnip, and cool
+as cucumber. This scale of blushes arose not out of modesty alone, but
+out of the wide range of her sensibility. On hearing of a noble deed, she
+blushed warm approbation; at a worthy sentiment, she blushed heart-felt
+sympathy. If you said a thing at the fire that might hurt some person at
+the furthest window, she would blush for fear it should be overheard, and
+cause pain.
+
+In short, it was her peculiarity to blush readily for matters quite
+outside herself, and to show the male observer (if any) the amazing
+sensibility, apart from egotism, that sometimes adorns a young,
+high-minded woman, not yet hardened by the world.
+
+This young lady was Zoe Vizard, daughter of Harrington's father by a
+Greek mother, who died when she was twelve years of age. Her mixed origin
+showed itself curiously. In her figure and face she was all Greek, even
+to her hand, which was molded divinely, but as long and large as befitted
+her long, grand, antique arm; but her mind was Northern--not a grain of
+Greek subtlety in it. Indeed, she would have made a poor hand at dark
+deceit, with a transparent face and eloquent blood, that kept coursing
+from her heart to her cheeks and back again, and painting her thoughts
+upon her countenance.
+
+Having installed herself, with feminine instinct, in a crimson couch that
+framed her to perfection, Zoe Vizard was at work embroidering. She had
+some flowers, and their leaves, lying near her on a little table, and,
+with colored silks, chenille, etc., she imitated each flower and its leaf
+very adroitly without a pattern. This was clever, and, indeed, rather a
+rare talent; but she lowered her head over this work with a demure,
+beaming complacency embroidery alone never yet excited without external
+assistance. Accordingly, on a large stool, or little ottoman, at her
+feet, but at a respectful distance, sat a young man, almost her match in
+beauty, though in quite another style. In height about five feet ten,
+broad-shouldered, clean-built, a model of strength, agility, and grace.
+His face fair, fresh, and healthy-looking; his large eyes hazel; the
+crisp curling hair on his shapely head a wonderful brown in the mass, but
+with one thin streak of gold above the forehead, and all the loose hairs
+glittering golden. A short clipped mustache saved him from looking too
+feminine, yet did not hide his expressive mouth. He had white hands, as
+soft and supple as a woman's, a mellow voice, and a winning tongue. This
+dangerous young gentleman was gazing softly on Zoe Vizard and purring in
+her ear; and she was conscious of his gaze without looking at him, and
+was sipping the honey, and showed it, by seeming more absorbed in her
+work than girls ever really are.
+
+Matters, however, had not gone openly very far. She was still on her
+defense: so, after imbibing his flatteries demurely a long time, she
+discovered, all in one moment, that they were objectionable. "Dear me,
+Mr. Severne," said she, "you do nothing but pay compliments."
+
+"How can I help it, sitting here?" inquired he.
+
+"There--there," said she: then, quietly, "Does it never occur to you that
+only foolish people are pleased with flatteries?"
+
+"I have heard that; but I don't believe it. I know it makes me awfully
+happy whenever you say a kind word of me."
+
+"That is far from proving your wisdom," said Zoe; "and, instead of
+dwelling on my perfections, which do not exist, I wish you would _tell_
+me things."
+
+"What things?"
+
+"How can I tell till I hear them? Well, then, things about yourself."
+
+"That is a poor subject."
+
+"Let me be the judge."
+
+"Oh, there are lots of fellows who are always talking about themselves:
+let me be an exception."
+
+This answer puzzled Zoe, and she was silent, and put on a cold look. She
+was not accustomed to be refused anything reasonable.
+
+Severne examined her closely, and saw he was expected to obey her. He
+then resolved to prepare, in a day or two, an autobiography full of
+details that should satisfy Zoe's curiosity, and win her admiration and
+her love. But he could not do it all in a moment, because his memory of
+his real life obstructed his fancy. Meantime he operated a diversion. He
+said, "Set a poor fellow an example. Tell me something about
+_yourself--_since I have the bad taste, and the presumption, to be
+interested in you, and can't help it. Did you spring from the foam of the
+Archipelago? or are you descended from Bacchus and Ariadne?"
+
+"If you want sensible answers, ask sensible questions," said Zoe, trying
+to frown him down with her black brows; but her sweet cheek would tint
+itself, and her sweet mouth smile and expose much intercoral ivory.
+
+"Well, then," said he, "I will ask you a prosaic question, and I only
+hope you won't think it impertinent. How--ever--did such a strangely
+assorted party as yours come to travel together? And if Vizard has turned
+woman-hater, as he pretends, how comes he to be at the head of a female
+party who are not _all_ of them--" he hesitated.
+
+"Go on, Mr. Severne; not all of them what?" said Zoe, prepared to stand
+up for her sex.
+
+"Not perfect?"
+
+"That is a very cautious statement, and--there--you are as slippery as an
+eel; there is no getting hold of you. Well, never mind, I will set you an
+example of communicativeness, and reveal this mystery hidden as yet from
+mankind."
+
+"Speak, dread queen; thy servant heareth."
+
+"Ha! ha! ha! Mr. Severne, you amuse _me."_
+
+"You only interest _me,"_ was the soft reply.
+
+Zoe blushed pink, but turned it off. "Then why do you not attend to my
+interesting narrative, instead of--Well, then, it began with my asking
+the dear fellow to take me a tour, especially to Rome."
+
+"You wanted to see the statues of your ancestors, and shame them."
+
+"Much obliged; I was not quite such a goose. I wanted to see the Tiber,
+and the Colosseum, and Trajan's Pillar, and the Tarpeian Rock, and the
+one everlasting city that binds ancient and modern history together."
+
+She flashed her great eyes on him, and he was dumb. She had risen above
+the region of his ideas. Having silenced her commentator, she returned to
+her story, "Well, dear Harrington said 'yes' directly. So then I told
+Fanny, and she said, 'Oh, do take me with you?' Now, of course I was only
+too glad to have Fanny; she is my relation, and my friend."
+
+"Happy girl!"
+
+"Be quiet, please. So I asked Harrington to let me have Fanny with us,
+and you should have seen his face. What, he travel with a couple of us!
+He--I don't see why I should tell you what the monster said."
+
+"Oh, yes, please do."
+
+"You won't go telling anybody else, then?"
+
+"Not a living soul, upon my honor."
+
+"Well, then," he said--she began to blush like a rose--"that he looked on
+me as a mere female in embryo; I had not yet developed the vices of my
+sex. But Fanny Dover was a ripe flirt, and she would set me flirting, and
+how could he manage the pair? In short, sir, he refused to take us, and
+gave his reasons, such as they were, poor dear! Then I had to tell Fanny.
+Then she began to cry, and told me to go without her. But I would not do
+that, when I had once asked her. Then she clung round my neck, and kissed
+me, and begged me to be cross and sullen, and tire out dear Harrington."
+
+"That is like her."
+
+"How do you know?" said Zoe sharply.
+
+"Oh, I have studied her character."
+
+"When, pray?" said Zoe, ironically, yet blushing a little, because her
+secret meaning was, "You are always at my apron strings, and have no time
+to fathom Fanny."
+
+"When I have nothing better to do--when you are out of the room."
+
+ "Well, I shall be out of the room very soon, if you say another word."
+
+"And serve me right, too. I am a fool to talk when you allow me to
+listen."
+
+"He is incorrigible!" said Zoe, pathetically. "Well, then, I refused to
+pout at Harrington. It is not as if he had no reason to distrust women,
+poor dear darling. I invited Fanny to stay a month with us; and, when
+once she was in the house, she soon got over me, and persuaded me to play
+sad, and showed me how to do it. So we wore long faces, and sweet
+resignation, and were never cross, but kept turning tearful eyes upon our
+victim."
+
+"Ha! ha! How absurd of Vizard to tell you that two women would be too
+much for one man."
+
+"No, it was the truth; and girls are artful creatures, especially when
+they put their heads together. But hear the end of all our cunning. One
+day, after dinner, Harrington asked us to sit opposite him; so we did,
+and felt guilty. He surveyed us in silence a little while, and then he
+said, 'My young friends, you have played your little game pretty well,
+especially you, Zoe, that are a novice in the fine arts compared with
+Miss Dover.' Histrionic talent ought to be rewarded; he would relent, and
+take us abroad, on one condition: there must be a chaperone. 'All the
+better,' said we hypocrites, eagerly; 'and who?'"
+
+"'Oh, a person equal to the occasion--an old maid as bitter against men
+as ever grapes were sour. She would follow us upstairs, downstairs, and
+into my lady's chamber. She would have an eye at the key-hole by day, and
+an ear by night, when we went up to bed and talked over the events of our
+frivolous day.' In short, he enumerated our duenna's perfections till our
+blood ran cold; and it was ever so long before he would tell us who it
+was--Aunt Maitland. We screamed with surprise. They are like cat and
+dog, and never agree, except to differ. We sought an explanation of this
+strange choice. He obliged us. It was not for his gratification he took
+the old cat; it was for us. She would relieve him of a vast
+responsibility. The vices of her character would prove too strong for the
+little faults of ours, which were only volatility, frivolity,
+flirtation--I will _not_ tell you what he said."
+
+"I seem to hear Harrington talking," said Severne. "What on earth makes
+him so hard upon women? Would you mind telling me that?"
+
+"Never ask me that question again," said Zoe, with sudden gravity.
+
+"Well, I won't; I'll get it out of him."
+
+"If you say a word to him about it, I shall be shocked and offended."
+
+She was pale and red by turns; but Severne bowed his head with a
+respectful submission that disarmed her directly. She turned her head
+away, and Severne, watching her, saw her eyes fill.
+
+"How is it," said she thoughtfully, and looking away from him, "that men
+leave out their sisters when they sum up womankind? Are not we women too?
+My poor brother quite forgets he has one woman who will never, never
+desert nor deceive him; dear, darling fellow!" and with these three last
+words she rose and kissed the tips of her fingers, and waved the kiss to
+Vizard with that free magnitude of gesture which belonged to antiquity:
+it struck the Anglo-Saxon flirt at her feet with amazement. Not having
+good enough under his skin to sympathize with that pious impulse, he
+first stagnated a little while; and then, not to be silent altogether,
+made his little, stale, commonplace comment on what she had told him.
+"Why, it is like a novel."
+
+"A very unromantic one," replied Zoe.
+
+"I don't know that. I have read very interesting novels with fewer new
+characters than this: there's a dark beauty, and a fair, and a duenna
+with an eagle eye and an aquiline nose."
+
+"Hush!" said Zoe: "that is her room;" and pointed to a chamber door that
+opened into the apartment.
+
+Oh, marvelous female instinct! The duenna in charge was at that moment
+behind that very door, and her eye and her ear at the key-hole, turn
+about.
+
+Severne continued his remarks, but in a lower voice.
+
+"Then there's a woman-hater and a man-hater: good for dialogue."
+
+Now this banter did not please Zoe; so she fixed her eyes upon Severne,
+and said, "You forget the principal figure--a mysterious young gentleman
+who looks nineteen, and is twenty-nine, and was lost sight of in England
+nine years ago. He has been traveling ever since, and where-ever he went
+he flirted; we gather so much from his accomplishment in the art; fluent,
+not to say voluble at times, but no egotist, for he never tells you
+anything about himself, nor even about his family, still less about the
+numerous _affaires de coeur_ in which he has been engaged. Perhaps he is
+reserving it all for the third volume."
+
+The attack was strong and sudden, but it failed. Severne, within the
+limits of his experience, was a consummate artist, and this situation was
+not new to him. He cast one gently reproachful glance on her, then
+lowered his eyes to the carpet, and kept them there. "Do you think," said
+he, in a low, dejected voice, "it can be any pleasure to a man to relate
+the follies of an idle, aimless life? and to you, who have given me
+higher aspirations, and made me awfully sorry, I cannot live my whole
+life over again. I can't bear to think of the years I have wasted," said
+he; "and how can I talk to you, whom I reverence, of the past follies I
+despise? No, pray don't ask me to risk your esteem. It is so dear to me."
+
+Then this artist put in practice a little maneuver he had learned of
+compressing his muscles and forcing a little unwilling water into his
+eyes. So, at the end of his pretty little speech, he raised two gentle,
+imploring eyes, with half a tear in each of them. To be sure, Nature
+assisted his art for once; he did bitterly regret, but out of pure
+egotism, the years he had wasted, and wished with all his heart he had
+never known any woman but Zoe Vizard.
+
+The combination of art and sincerity was too much for the guileless and
+inexperienced Zoe. She was grieved at the pain she had given, and rose to
+retire, for she felt they were both on dangerous ground; but, as she
+turned away, she made a little, deprecating gesture, and said, softly,
+"Forgive me."
+
+That soft tone gave Severne courage, and that gesture gave him an
+opportunity. He seized her hand, murmured, "Angel of goodness!" and
+bestowed a long, loving kiss on her hand that made it quiver under his
+lips.
+
+"Oh!" cried Miss Maitland, bursting into the room at the nick of time,
+yet feigning amazement.
+
+Fanny heard the ejaculations, and whipped away from Harrington into the
+window. Zoe, with no motive but her own coyness, had already snatched her
+hand away from Severne.
+
+But both young ladies were one moment too late. The eagle eye of a
+terrible old maid had embraced the entire situation, and they saw it had.
+
+Harrington Vizard, Esq., smoked on, with his back to the group. But the
+rest were a picture--the mutinous face and keen eyes of Fanny Dover,
+bristling with defense, at the window; Zoe blushing crimson, and newly
+started away from her too-enterprising wooer; and the tall, thin, grim
+old maid, standing stiff, as sentinel, at the bedroom door, and gimleting
+both her charges alternately with steel-gray orbs; she seemed like an
+owl, all eyes and beak.
+
+When the chaperon had fixed the situation thoroughly, she stalked erect
+into the room, and said, very expressively, "I am afraid I disturb you."
+
+Zoe, from crimson, blushed scarlet, and hung her head; but Fanny was
+ready.
+
+"La! aunt," said she, ironically, and with pertness infinite, "you know
+you are always welcome. Where ever have you been all this time? We were
+afraid we had lost you."
+
+Aunt fired her pistol in reply: "I was not far off--most fortunately."
+
+Zoe, finding that, even under crushing circumstances, Fanny had fight in
+her, glided instantly to her side, and Aunt Maitland opened battle all
+round.
+
+"May I ask, sir," said she to Severne, with a horrible smile, "what you
+were doing when I came in?"
+
+Zoe clutched Fanny, and both awaited Mr. Severne's reply for one moment
+with keen anxiety.
+
+"My dear Miss Maitland," said that able young man, very respectfully, yet
+with a sort of cheerful readiness, as if he were delighted at her
+deigning to question him, "to tell you the truth, I was admiring Miss
+Vizard's diamond ring."
+
+Fanny tittered; Zoe blushed again at such a fib and such _aplomb._
+
+"Oh, indeed," said Miss Maitland; "you were admiring it very close, sir."
+
+"It is like herself--it will bear inspection."
+
+This was wormwood to Miss Maitland. "Even in our ashes live their wonted
+fires;" and, though she was sixty, she disliked to hear a young woman
+praised. She bridled, then returned to the attack.
+
+"Next time you wish to inspect it, you had better ask her _to take it
+off,_ and show you."
+
+"May I, Miss Maitland?" inquired the ingenuous youth. "She would not
+think that a liberty?"
+
+His mild effrontery staggered her for a moment, and she glared at him,
+speechless, but soon recovered, and said, bitterly, "Evidently _not."_
+With this she turned her back on him rather ungraciously, and opened fire
+on her own sex.
+
+"Zoe!" (sharply).
+
+"Yes, aunt." (faintly)
+
+"Tell your brother--if he can leave off smoking--I wish to speak to him."
+
+Zoe hung her head, and was in no hurry to bring about the proposed
+conference.
+
+While she deliberated, says Fanny, with vast alacrity, "I'll tell him,
+aunt."
+
+"Oh, Fanny!" murmured Zoe, in a reproachful whisper.
+
+"All right!" whispered Fanny in reply, and whipped out on to the balcony.
+"Here's Aunt Maitland wants to know if you ever leave off smoking;" and
+she threw a most aggressive manner into the query.
+
+The big man replied, composedly, "Tell her I do--at meals and prayers;
+but I always _sleep_ with a pipe in my mouth--heavily insured!"
+
+"Well, then, you mustn't; for she has something very particular to say to
+you when you've done smoking."
+
+"Something particular! That means something disagreeable. Tell her I
+shall be smoking all day to-day."
+
+Fanny danced into the room and said, "He says he shall be smoking all
+day, _under the circumstances."_
+
+Miss Maitland gave this faithful messenger the look of a basilisk, and
+flounced to her own room. The young ladies instantly stepped out on the
+balcony, and got one on each side of Harrington, with the feminine
+instinct of propitiation; for they felt sure the enemy would tell, soon
+or late.
+
+"What does the old cat want to talk to me about?" said Harrington,
+lazily, to Fanny.
+
+It was Zoe who replied:
+
+"Can't you guess, dear?" said she, tenderly--"our misconduct." Then she
+put her head on his shoulder, as much as to say, "But we have a more
+lenient judge here."
+
+"As if I could not see _that_ without her assistance!" said Harrington
+Vizard. (Puff!) At which comfortable reply Zoe looked very rueful, and
+Fanny burst out laughing.
+
+Soon after this Fanny gave Zoe a look, and they retired to their rooms;
+and Zoe said she would never come out again, and Fanny must stay with
+her. Fanny felt sure _ennui_ would thaw that resolve in a few hours; so
+she submitted, but declared it was absurd, and the very way to give a
+perfect trifle importance.
+
+"Kiss your hand!" said she, disdainfully--"that is nothing. If I was the
+man, I'd have kissed both your cheeks long before this."
+
+"And I should have boxed your ears and made you cry," said Zoe, with calm
+superiority.
+
+So she had her way, and the deserted Severne felt dull, but was too good
+a general to show it. He bestowed his welcome company on Mr. Vizard,
+walked with him, talked with him, and made himself so agreeable, that
+Vizard, who admired him greatly, said to him, "What a good fellow you
+are, to bestow your sunshine on me. I began to be afraid those girls had
+got you, and tied you to their apron-strings altogether."
+
+"Oh, no!" said Severne: "they are charming; but, after all, one can't do
+without a male friend: there are so few things that interest ladies.
+Unless you can talk red-hot religion, you are bound to flirt with them a
+little. To be sure, they look shy, if you do, but if you don't--"
+
+"They _are_ bored; whereas they only _looked_ shy. I know 'em. Call
+another subject, please."
+
+"Well, I will; but perhaps it may not be so agreeable a one."
+
+"That is very unlikely," said the woman-hater, dryly.
+
+"Well, it is Tin. I'm rather short. You see, when I fell in with you at
+Monaco, I had no idea of coming this way; but, meeting with an old
+college friend--what a tie college is, isn't it? There is nothing like
+it; when you have been at college with a man, you seem never to wear him
+out, as you do the acquaintances you make afterward."
+
+"That is very true," said Vizard warmly.
+
+"Isn't it? Now, for instance, if I had only known you of late years, I
+should feel awfully shy of borrowing a few hundreds of you--for a month
+or two."
+
+"I don't know why you should, old fellow."
+
+"I should, though. But having been at college together makes all the
+difference. I don't mind telling you that I have never been at Homburg
+without taking a turn at the table, and I am grizzling awfully now at not
+having sent to my man of business for funds."
+
+"How much do you want? That is the only question."
+
+"Glad to hear it," thought Severne. "Well, let me see, you can't back
+your luck with less than five hundred."
+
+"Well, but we have been out two months; I am afraid I haven't so much
+left. Just let me see." He took out his pocket-book, and examined his
+letter of credit. "Do you want it to-day?"
+
+"Why, yes; I do."
+
+"Well, then, I am afraid you can only have three hundred. But I will
+telegraph Herries, and funds will be here to-morrow afternoon."
+
+"All right," said Severne.
+
+Vizard took him to the bank, and exhausted his letter of credit: then to
+the telegraph-office, and telegraphed Herries to enlarge his credit at
+once. He handed Severne the three hundred pounds. The young man's eye
+flashed, and it cost him an effort not to snatch them and wave them over
+his head with joy: but he controlled himself, and took them like
+two-pence-halfpenny. "Thank you, old fellow," said he. Then, still more
+carelessly, "Like my I O U?"
+
+"As you please," said Vizard, with similar indifference; only real.
+
+After he had got the money, Severne's conversational powers
+relaxed--short answers--long reveries.
+
+Vizard observed, stopped short, and eyed him. "I remember something at
+Oxford, and I am afraid you are a gambler; if you are, you won't be good
+for much till you have lost that three hundred. It will be a dull evening
+for me without you: I know what I'll do--I'll take my hen-party to the
+opera at Homburg. There are stalls to be got here. I'll get one for you,
+on the chance of your dropping in."
+
+The stalls were purchased, and the friends returned at once to the hotel,
+to give the ladies timely intimation. They found Fanny and Zoe seated,
+rather disconsolate, in the apartment Zoe had formally renounced: at
+sight of the stall tickets, the pair uttered joyful cries, looked at each
+other, and vanished.
+
+"You won't see _them_ any more till dinner-time," said Vizard. "They will
+be discussing dress, selecting dress, trying dresses, and changing
+dresses, for the next three hours." He turned round while speaking, and
+there was Severne slipping away to his own bedroom.
+
+Thus deserted on all sides, he stepped into the balcony and lighted a
+cigar. While he was smoking it, he observed an English gentleman, with a
+stalwart figure and a beautiful brown beard, standing on the steps of the
+hotel. "Halloo!" said he, and hailed him. "Hi, Uxmoor! is that you?"
+
+Lord Uxmoor looked up, and knew him. He entered the hotel, and the next
+minute the waiter ushered him into Vizard's sitting-room.
+
+Lord Uxmoor, like Mr. Vizard, was a landed proprietor in Barfordshire.
+The county is large, and they lived too many miles apart to visit; but
+they met, and agreed, at elections and county business, and had a respect
+for each other.
+
+Meeting at Frankfort, these two found plenty to say to each other about
+home; and as Lord Uxmoor was alone, Vizard asked him to dine. "You will
+balance us," said he: "we are terribly overpetticoated, and one of them
+is an old maid. We generally dine at the _table-d'hote,_ but I have
+ordered dinner _here_ to-day: we are going to the opera at Homburg. You
+are not obliged to do that, you know. You are in for a bad dinner, that
+is all."
+
+"To tell the truth," said Lord Uxmoor, "I don't care for music."
+
+"Then you deserve a statue for not pretending to love it. I adore it, for
+my part, and I wish I was going alone, for my hens will be sure to cackle
+_mal 'a propos,_ and spoil some famous melody with talking about it, and
+who sung it in London, instead of listening to it, and thanking God for
+it in deep silence."
+
+Lord Uxmoor stared a little at this sudden sally, for he was unacquainted
+with Vizard's one eccentricity, having met him only on county business,
+at which he was extra rational, and passed for a great scholar. He really
+did suck good books as well as cigars.
+
+After a few more words, they parted till dinner-time.
+
+
+Lord Uxmoor came to his appointment, and found his host and Miss
+Maitland, whom he knew; and he was in languid conversation with them,
+when a side-door opened, and in walked Fanny Dover, fair and bright, in
+Cambridge blue, her hair well dressed by Zoe's maid in the style of the
+day. Lord Uxmoor rose, and received his fair country-woman with
+respectful zeal; he had met her once before. She, too, sparkled with
+pleasure at meeting a Barfordshire squire with a long pedigree, purse,
+and beard--three things she admired greatly.
+
+In the midst of this, in glided Zoe, and seemed to extinguish everybody,
+and even to pale the lights, with her dark yet sunlike beauty. She was
+dressed in a creamy-white satin that glinted like mother-of-pearl, its
+sheen and glory unfrittered with a single idiotic trimming; on her breast
+a large diamond cross. Her head was an Athenian sculpture--no chignon,
+but the tight coils of antiquity; at their side, one diamond star
+sparkled vivid flame, by its contrast with those polished ebon snakes.
+
+Lord Uxmoor was dazzled, transfixed, at the vision, and bowed very low
+when Vizard introduced him in an off-hand way, saying, "My sister, Miss
+Vizard; but I dare say you have met her at the county balls."
+
+"I have never been so fortunate," said Uxmoor, humbly.
+
+"I have," said Zoe; "that is, I saw you waltzing with Lady Betty Gore at
+the race ball two years ago."
+
+"What!" said Vizard, alarmed. "Uxmoor, were you waltzing with Lady Betty
+Gore?"
+
+"You have it on too high an authority for me to contradict."
+
+Finding Zoe was to be trusted as a county chronicle, Vizard turned
+sharply to her, and said, "And was he flirting with her?"
+
+Zoe colored a little, and said, "Now, Harrington, how can I tell?"
+
+"You little hypocrite," said Vizard, "who can tell better?"
+
+At this retort Zoe blushed high, and the water came into her eyes.
+
+Nobody minded that but Uxmoor, and Vizard went on to explain, "That Lady
+Betty Gore is as heartless a coquette as any in the county; and don't you
+flirt with her, or you will get entangled."
+
+"You disapprove her," said Uxmoor, coolly; "then I give her up forever."
+He looked at Zoe while he said this, and felt how easy it would be to
+resign Lady Betty and a great many more for this peerless creature. He
+did not mean her to understand what was passing in his mind; he did not
+know how subtle and observant the most innocent girl is in such matters.
+Zoe blushed, and drew away from him. Just then Ned Severne came in, and
+Vizard introduced him to Uxmoor with great geniality and pride. The
+charming young man was in a black surtout, with a blue scarf, the very
+tint for his complexion.
+
+The girls looked at one another, and in a moment Fanny was elected Zoe's
+agent. She signaled Severne, and when he came to her she said, for Zoe,
+"Don't you know we are going to the opera at Homburg?"
+
+"Yes, I know," said he, "and I hope you will have a pleasanter evening
+than I shall."
+
+"You are not coming with us?"
+
+"No," said he, sorrowfully.
+
+"You had better," said Fanny, with a deal of quiet point, more, indeed,
+than Zoe's pride approved.
+
+"Not if Mr. Severne has something more attractive," said she, turning
+palish and pinkish by turns.
+
+All this went on _sotto voce,_ and Uxmoor, out of good-breeding, entered
+into conversation with Miss Maitland and Vizard. Severne availed himself
+of this diversion, and fixed his eyes on Zoe with an air of gentle
+reproach, then took a letter out of his pocket, and handed it to Fanny.
+She read it, and gave it to Zoe.
+
+It was dated from "The Golden Star," Homburg.
+
+
+"DEAR NED--I am worse to-day, and all alone. Now and then I almost fear I
+may not pull through. But perhaps that is through being so hipped. Do
+come and spend this evening with me like a good, kind fellow.
+
+"Telegraph reply.
+
+"S. T."
+
+
+"Poor fellow," said Ned; "my heart bleeds for him."
+
+Zoe was affected by this, and turned liquid and loving eyes on "dear
+Ned." But Fanny stood her ground. "Go to 'S. T.' to-morrow morning, but
+don't desert 'Z. V.' and 'F. D.' to-night." Zoe smiled.
+
+"But I have telegraphed!" objected Ned.
+
+"Then telegraph again--_not,"_ said Fanny firmly.
+
+Now, this was unexpected. Severne had set his heart upon _rouge et noir,_
+but still he was afraid of offending Zoe; and, besides, he saw Uxmoor,
+with his noble beard and brown eyes, casting rapturous glances at her.
+"Let Miss Vizard decide," said he. "Don't let me be so unhappy as to
+offend her twice in one day."
+
+Zoe's pride and goodness dictated her answer, in spite of her wishes. She
+said, in a low voice, "Go to your sick friend."
+
+"There," said Severne.
+
+"I hear," said Fanny. "She means 'go;' but you shall repent it."
+
+"I mean what I say," said Zoe, with real dignity. "It is my habit." And
+the next moment she quietly left the room.
+
+She sat down in her bedroom, mortified and alarmed. What! Had it come to
+this, that she felt her heart turn cold just because that young man said
+he could not accompany her--on a single evening! Then first she
+discovered that it was for him she had dressed, and had, for once,
+beautified her beauty--for _him;_ that with Fanny she had dwelt upon the
+delights of the music, but had secretly thought of appearing publicly on
+_his_ arm, and dazzling people by their united and contrasted beauty.
+
+She rose, all of a sudden, and looked keenly at herself in the glass, to
+see if she had not somehow overrated her attractions. But the glass was
+reassuring. It told her not one man in a million could go to a sick
+friend that night, when he might pass the evening by her side, and visit
+his friend early in the morning. Best loved is best served. Tears of
+mortified vanity were in her eyes; but she smiled through them at the
+glass; then dried them carefully, and went back to the dining-room
+radiant, to all appearance.
+
+Dinner was just served, and her brother, to do honor to the new-comer,
+waved his sister to a seat by Lord Uxmoor. He looked charmed at the
+arrangement, and showed a great desire to please her, but at first was
+unable to find good topics. After several timid overtures on his part,
+she assisted him, out of good-nature, She knew by report that he was a
+very benevolent young man, bent on improving the home, habits, wages, and
+comforts of the agricultural poor. She led him to this, and his eyes
+sparkled with pleasure, and his homely but manly face lighted, and was
+elevated by the sympathy she expressed in these worthy objects. He could
+not help thinking: "What a Lady Uxmoor this would make! She and I and her
+brother might leaven the county."
+
+And all this time she would not even bestow a glance on Severne. She was
+not an angel. She had said, "Go to your sick friend;" but she had not
+said, "I will smart alone if you _do."_
+
+Severne sat by Fanny, and seemed dejected, but, as usual, polite and
+charming. She was smilingly cruel; regaled him with Lord Uxmoor's wealth
+and virtues, and said he was an excellent match, and all she-Barfordshire
+pulling caps for him. Severne only sighed; he offered no resistance; and
+at last she could not go on nagging a handsome fellow, who only sighed,
+so she said, "Well, _there;_ I advise you to join us before the opera is
+over, that is all."
+
+"I will, I will!" said he, eagerly. "Oh, thank you."
+
+Dinner was dispatched rather rapidly, because of the opera.
+
+When the ladies got their cloaks and lace scarfs, to put over their heads
+coming home, the party proved to be only three, and the tickets five; for
+Miss Maitland pleaded headache.
+
+On this, Lord Uxmoor said, rather timidly, he should like to go.
+
+"Why, you said you hated music," said Vizard.
+
+Lord Uxmoor colored. "I recant," said he, bluntly; and everybody saw what
+had operated his conversion. That is a pun.
+
+It is half an hour, by rail, from Frankfort to Homburg, and the party
+could not be seated together. Vizard bestowed Zoe and Lord Uxmoor in one
+carriage, Fanny and Severne in another, and himself and a cigar in the
+third. Severne sat gazing piteously on Fanny Dover, but never said a
+word. She sat and eyed him satirically for a good while, and then she
+said, cheerfully, "Well, Mr. Severne, how do you like the turn things are
+taking?"
+
+"Miss Dover, I am very unhappy."
+
+"Serves you right."
+
+"Oh, pray don't say that. It is on you I depend."
+
+"On me, sir! What have I to do with your flirtations?"
+
+"No; but you are so clever, and so good. If for once you will take a poor
+fellow's part with Miss Vizard, behind my back; oh, please do--pray do,"
+and, in the ardor of entreaty, he caught Fanny's white hand and kissed it
+with warm but respectful devotion. Indeed, he held it and kissed it again
+and again, till Fanny, though she minded it no more than marble, was
+going to ask him satirically whether he had not almost done with it, when
+at last he contrived to squeeze out one of his little hysterical tears,
+and drop it on her hand.
+
+Now, the girl was not butter, like some of her sex; far from it: but
+neither was she wood--indeed, she was not old enough for that--so this
+crocodile tear won her for the time being. "There--there," said she;
+"don't be a baby. I'll be on your side tonight; only, if you care for
+her, come and look after her yourself. Beautiful women with money won't
+stand neglect, Mr. Severne; and why should they? They are not like poor
+me; they have got the game in their hands." The train stopped. Vizard's
+party drove to the opera, and Severne ordered a cab to The Golden Star,
+meaning to stop it and get out; but, looking at his watch, he found it
+wanted half an hour to gambling time, so he settled to have a cup of
+coffee first, and a cigar. With this view he let the man drive him to The
+Golden Star.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+INA KLOSKING worked night and day upon Siebel, in Gounod's "Faust," and
+upon the songs that had been added to give weight to the part.
+
+She came early to the theater at night, and sat, half dressed, fatigued,
+and nervous, in her dressing-room.
+
+Crash!--the first _coup d'archet_ announced the overture, and roused her
+energy, as if Ithuriel's spear had pricked her. She came down dressed, to
+listen at one of the upper entrances, to fill herself with the musical
+theme, before taking her part in it, and also to gauge the audience and
+the singers.
+
+The man Faust was a German; but the musical part Faust seems better
+suited to an Italian or a Frenchman. Indeed, some say that, as a rule,
+the German genius excels in creation and the Italian in representation or
+interpretation. For my part, I am unable to judge nations in the lump, as
+some fine fellows do, because nations are composed of very different
+individuals, and I know only one to the million; but I do take on me to
+say that the individual Herr who executed Doctor Faustus at Homburg that
+night had everything to learn, except what he had to unlearn. His person
+was obese; his delivery of the words was mouthing, chewing, and gurgling;
+and he uttered the notes in tune, but without point, pathos, or passion;
+a steady lay-clerk from York or Durham Cathedral would have done a little
+better, because he would have been no colder at heart, and more exact in
+time, and would have sung clean; whereas this gentleman set his windpipe
+trembling, all through the business, as if palsy were passion. By what
+system of leverage such a man came to be hoisted on to such a pinnacle of
+song as "Faust" puzzled our English friends in front as much as it did
+the Anglo-Danish artist at the wing; for English girls know what is what
+in opera.
+
+The Marguerite had a voice of sufficient compass, and rather sweet,
+though thin. The part demands a better _actress_ than Patti, and this
+Fraulein was not half as good: she put on the painful grin of a
+prize-fighter who has received a staggerer, and grinned all through the
+part, though there is little in it to grin at.
+
+She also suffered by having to play to a Faust milked of his poetry, and
+self-smitten with a _tremolo_ which, as I said before, is the voice of
+palsy, and is not, nor ever was, nor ever will be, the voice of passion.
+Bless your heart, passion is a manly thing, a womanly thing, a grand
+thing, not a feeble, quavering, palsied, anile, senile thing. Learn that,
+ye trembling, quavering idiots of song!
+
+"They let me down," whispered Ina Klosking to her faithful Ashmead. "I
+feel all out of tune. I shall never be able. And the audience so cold. It
+will be like singing in a sepulcher."
+
+"What would you think of them, if they applauded?" said Ashmead.
+
+"I should say they were good, charitable souls, and the very audience I
+shall want in five minutes."
+
+"No, no," said Ashmead, "all you want is a discriminating audience; and
+this is one. Remember they have all seen Patti in Marguerite. Is it
+likely they would applaud this tin stick?"
+
+Ina turned the conversation with feminine quickness. "Mr. Ashmead, have
+you kept your promise; my name is not in the programme?"
+
+"It is not; and a great mistake too."
+
+"I have not been announced by name in any way?"
+
+"No. But, of course, I have nursed you a bit."
+
+"Nursed me? What is that? Oh, what have you been doing? No
+_charlatanerie,_ I hope."
+
+"Nothing of the kind," said Ashmead, stoutly; "only the regular
+business."
+
+"And pray what is the regular business?" inquired Ina, distrustfully.
+
+"Why, of course, I sent on the manager to say that Mademoiselle Schwaub
+had been taken seriously ill; that we had been fearing we must break
+faith with the public for the first time; but that a cantatrice, who had
+left the stage, appreciating our difficulty, had, with rare kindness,
+come to our aid for this one night: we felt sure a Humbug audience--what
+am I saying?--a Homburg audience would appreciate this, and make due
+allowance for a performance undertaken in such a spirit, and with
+imperfect rehearsals, etc.--in short, the usual patter; and the usual
+effect, great applause. Indeed, the only applause that I have heard in
+this theater to-night. Ashmead ahead of Gounod, so far."
+
+Ina Klosking put both hands before her face, and uttered a little moan.
+She had really a soul above these artifices. "So, then," said she, "if
+they do receive me, it will be out of charity."
+
+"No, no; but on your first night you must have two strings to your bow."
+
+"But I have only one. These cajoling speeches are a waste of breath. A
+singer can sing, or she can _not_ sing, and they find out which it is as
+soon as she opens her mouth."
+
+"Well, then, you open your mouth--that is just what half the singers
+can't do--and they will soon find out you can sing."
+
+"I hope they may. I do not know. I am discouraged. I'm terrified. I think
+it is stage-fright," and she began to tremble visibly, for the time drew
+near.
+
+Ashmead ran off and brought her some brandy-and-water. She put up her
+hand against it with royal scorn. "No, sir! If the theater, and the
+lights, and the people, the mind of Goethe, and the music of Gounod,
+can't excite me without _that,_ put me at the counter of a cafe', for I
+have no business here."
+
+The power, without violence, and the grandeur with which she said this
+would have brought down the house had she spoken it in a play without a
+note of music; and Ashmead drew back respectfully, but chuckled
+internally at the idea of this Minerva giving change in a cafe'.
+
+And now her cue was coming. She ordered everybody out of the entrance not
+very ceremoniously, and drew well back. Then, at her cue, she made a
+stately rush, and so, being in full swing before she cleared the wing,
+she swept into the center of the stage with great rapidity and
+resolution; no trace either of her sorrowful heart or her quaking limbs
+was visible from the front.
+
+There was a little applause, all due to Ashmead's preliminary apology,
+but there was no real reception; for Germany is large and musical, and
+she was not immediately recognized at Homburg. But there was that
+indescribable flutter which marks a good impression and keen expectation
+suddenly aroused. She was beautiful on the stage for one thing; her
+figure rather tall and stately, and her face full of power: and then the
+very way she came on showed the step and carriage of an artist at home
+upon the boards.
+
+She cast a rapid glance round the house, observed its size, and felt her
+way. She sung her first song evenly, but not tamely, yet with restrained
+power; but the tones were so full and flexible, the expression so easy
+yet exact, that the judges saw there was no effort, and suspected
+something big might be yet in store to-night. At the end of her song she
+did let out for a moment, and, at this well-timed foretaste of her power,
+there was applause, but nothing extravagant.
+
+She was quite content, however. She met Ashmead, as she came off, and
+said, "All is well, my friend, so far. They are sitting in judgment on
+me, like sensible people, and not in a hurry. I rather like that."
+
+"Your own fault," said Joseph. "You should have been announced. Prejudice
+is a surer card than judgment. The public is an ass."
+
+"It must come to the same thing in the end," said the Klosking firmly.
+"One can sing, or one cannot."
+
+
+Her next song was encored, and she came off flushed with art and
+gratified pride. "I have no fears now," said she, to her Achates, firmly.
+"I have my barometer; a young lady in the stalls. Oh, such a beautiful
+creature, with black hair and eyes! She applauds me fearlessly. Her
+glorious eyes speak to mine, and inspire me. She is _happy,_ she is. I
+drink sunbeams at her. I shall act and sing 'Le Parlate d'Amor' for
+_her_--and you will see."
+
+
+Between the acts, who should come in but Ned Severne, and glided into the
+vacant stall by Zoe's side.
+
+She quivered at his coming near her; he saw it, and felt a thrill of
+pleasure himself.
+
+"How is 'S. T.'?" said she, kindly.
+
+"'S. T.'?" said he, forgetting.
+
+"Why, your sick friend, to be sure."
+
+"Oh, not half so bad as he thought. I was a fool to lose an hour of you
+for _him._ He was hipped; had lost all his money at _rouge et noir._ So I
+lent him fifty pounds, and that did him more good than the doctor. You
+forgive me?"
+
+"Forgive you? I approve. Are you going back to him?" said she, demurely.
+
+"No, thank you, I have made sacrifices enough."
+
+And so indeed he had, having got cleaned out of three hundred pounds
+through preferring gambling to beauty.
+
+"Singers good?" he inquired.
+
+"Wretched, all but one; and she is divine."
+
+"Indeed. Who is she?"
+
+"I don't know. A gentleman in black came out--"
+
+"Mephistopheles?"
+
+"No--how dare you?--and said a singer that had retired would perform the
+part of 'Siebel, to oblige; and she has obliged me for one. She is, oh,
+so superior to the others! Such a heavenly contralto; and her upper
+notes, honey dropping from the comb. And then she is so modest, so
+dignified, _and_ so beautiful. She is fair as a lily; and such a
+queen-like brow, and deep, gray eyes, full of sadness and soul. I'm
+afraid she is not happy. Once or twice she fixed them on me, and they
+magnetized me, and drew me to her. So I magnetized her in return. I
+should know her anywhere fifty years hence. Now, if I were a man, I
+should love that woman and make her love me."
+
+"Then I am very glad you are not a man," said Severne, tenderly.
+
+"So am I," whispered Zoe, and blushed. The curtain rose.
+
+"Listen now, Mr. Chatterbox," said Zoe.
+
+Ned Severne composed himself to listen; but Fraulein Graas had not sung
+many bars before he revolted. "Listen to what?" said he; "and look at
+what? The only Marguerite in the place is by my side."
+
+Zoe colored with pleasure; but her good sense was not to be blinded. "The
+only good black Mephistophe-_less_ you mean," said she. "To be
+Marguerite, one must be great, and sweet, and tender; yes, and far more
+lovely than ever woman was. That lady is a better color for the part than
+I am; but neither she nor I shall ever be Marguerite."
+
+He murmured in her ear. "You are Marguerite, for you could fire a man's
+heart so that he would sell his soul to gain you."
+
+It was the accent of passion and the sensitive girl quivered. Yet she
+defended herself--in words, "Hush!" said she. "That is wicked--out of an
+opera. Fanny would laugh at you, if she heard."
+
+Here were two reasons for not making such hot love in the stalls of an
+opera. Which of the two weighed most with the fair reasoner shall be left
+to her own sex.
+
+The brief scene ended with the declaration of the evil spirit that
+Marguerite is lost.
+
+"There," said Zoe, naively, "that is over, thank goodness: now you will
+hear _my_ singer."
+
+Siebel and Marta came on from opposite sides of the stage. "See!" said
+Zoe, "isn't she lovely?" and she turned her beaming face full on Severne,
+to share her pleasure with him. To her amazement the man seemed
+transformed: a dark cloud had come over his sunny countenance. He sat,
+pale, and seemed to stare at the tall, majestic, dreamy singer, who stood
+immovable, dressed like a velvet youth, yet looking like no earthly boy,
+but a draped statue of Mercury,
+
+"New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill."
+
+The blood left his lips, and Zoe thought he was faint; but the next
+moment he put his handkerchief hastily to his nose, and wriggled his way
+out, with a rush and a crawl, strangely combined, at the very moment when
+the singer delivered her first commanding note of recitative.
+
+Everybody about looked surprised and disgusted at so ill-timed an exit;
+but Zoe, who had seen his white face, was seriously alarmed, and made a
+movement to rise too, and watch, or even follow him; but, when he got to
+the side, he looked back to her, and made her a signal that his nose was
+bleeding, but it was of no great consequence. He even pointed with his
+finger out and then back again, indicating he should not be long gone.
+
+This re-assured her greatly; for she had always been told a little
+bleeding of that sort was good for hot-headed young people. Then the
+singer took complete hold of her. The composer, to balance the delightful
+part of Marguerite, has given Siebel a melody with which wonders can be
+done; and the Klosking had made a considerable reserve of her powers for
+this crowning effort. After a recitative that rivaled the silver trumpet,
+she flung herself with immediate and electrifying ardor into the melody;
+the orchestra, taken by surprise, fought feebly for the old ripple; but
+the Klosking, resolute by nature, was now mighty as Neptune, and would
+have her big waves. The momentary struggle, in which she was loyally
+seconded by the conductor, evoked her grand powers. Catgut had to yield
+to brains, and the whole orchestra, composed, after all, of good
+musicians, soon caught the divine afflatus, and the little theater seemed
+on fire with music; the air, sung with a large rhythm, swelled and rose,
+and thrilled every breast with amazement and delight; the house hung
+breathless: by-and-by there were pale cheeks, panting bosoms, and wet
+eyes, the true, rare triumphs of the sovereigns of song; and when the
+last note had pealed and ceased to vibrate, the pent-up feelings broke
+forth in a roar of applause, which shook the dome, followed by a clapping
+of hands, like a salvo, that never stopped till Ina Klosking, who had
+retired, came forward again.
+
+She courtesied with admirable dignity, modesty, and respectful gravity,
+and the applause thundered, and people rose at her in clusters about the
+house, and waved their hats and handkerchiefs at her, and a little
+Italian recognized her, and cried out as loud as he could, "Viva la
+Klosking! viva!" and she heard that, and it gave her a thrill; and Zoe
+Vizard, being out of England, and, therefore, brave as a lioness, stood
+boldly up at her full height, and, taking her bouquet in her right hand,
+carried it swiftly to her left ear, and so flung it, with a free
+back-handed sweep, more Oriental than English, into the air, and it
+lighted beside the singer; and she saw the noble motion, and the bouquet
+fly, and, when she made her last courtesy at the wing, she fixed her eyes
+on Zoe, and then put her hand to her heart with a most touching gesture
+that said, "Most of all I value your bouquet and your praise."
+
+Then the house buzzed, and ranks were leveled; little people spoke to big
+people, and big to little, in mutual congratulation; for at such rare
+moments (except in Anglo-Saxony) instinct seems to tell men that true art
+is a sunshine of the soul, and blesses the rich and the poor alike.
+
+One person was affected in another way. Harrington Vizard sat rapt in
+attention, and never took his eyes off her, yet said not a word.
+
+Several Russian and Prussian grandees sought an introduction to the new
+singer. But she pleaded fatigue.
+
+The manager entreated her to sup with him, and meet the Grand Duke of
+Hesse. She said she had a prior engagement.
+
+She went quietly home, and supped with her faithful Ashmead, and very
+heartily too; for nature was exhausted, and agitation had quite spoiled
+her dinner.
+
+Joseph Ashmead, in the pride of his heart, proposed a bottle of
+champagne. The Queen of Song, with triumph flushed, looked rather blue at
+that. "My friend," said she, in a meek, deprecating way, "we are
+working-people: is not Bordeaux good enough for _us?"_
+
+"Yes; but it is not good enough for the occasion," said Joseph, a little
+testily. "Well, never mind;" and he muttered to himself, "that is the
+worst of _good_ women: they are so terribly stingy."
+
+The Queen of Song, with triumph flushed, did not catch these words, but
+only a little growling. However, as supper proceeded, she got uneasy. So
+she rang the bell, and ordered a _pint:_ of this she drank one spoonful.
+The remainder, co-operating with triumph and claret, kept Ashmead in a
+great flow of spirits. He traced her a brilliant career. To be
+photographed tomorrow morning as Siebel, and in plain dress. Paragraphs
+in _Era, Figaro, Galignani, Inde'pendance Belge,_ and the leading
+dailies. Large wood-cuts before leaving Homburg for Paris, London,
+Vienna, St. Petersburg, and New York."
+
+"I'm in your hands," said she, and smiled languidly, to please him.
+
+But by-and-by he looked at her, and found she was taking a little cry all
+to herself.
+
+"Dear me!" said he, "what is the matter?"
+
+"My friend, forgive me. _He_ was not there to share my triumph."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+AS the opera drew to an end, Zoe began to look round more and more for
+Severne; but he did not come, and Lord Uxmoor offered his arm earnestly.
+She took it; but hung back a moment on his very arm, to tell Harrington
+Mr. Severne had been taken ill.
+
+At the railway station the truant emerged suddenly, just as the train was
+leaving; but Lord Uxmoor had secured three seats, and the defaulter had
+to go with Harrington. On reaching the hotel, the ladies took their
+bed-candles; but Uxmoor found time to propose an excursion next day,
+Sunday, to a lovely little lake--open carriage, four horses. The young
+ladies accepted, but Mr. Severne declined; he thanked Lord Uxmoor
+politely, but he had arrears of correspondence.
+
+Zoe cast a mortified and rather a haughty glance on him, and Fanny
+shrugged her shoulders incredulously.
+
+These two ladies brushed hair together in Zoe's room. That is a soothing
+operation, my masters, and famous for stimulating females to friendly
+gossip; but this time there was, for once, a guarded reserve. Zoe was
+irritated, puzzled, mortified, and even grieved by Severne's conduct.
+Fanny was gnawed by jealousy, and out of temper. She had forgiven Zoe Ned
+Severne. But that young lady was insatiable; Lord Uxmoor, too, had fallen
+openly in love with her--openly to a female eye. So, then, a blonde had
+no chance, with a dark girl by: thus reasoned she, and it was
+intolerable. It was some time before either spoke an atom of what was
+uppermost in her mind. They each doled out a hundred sentences that
+missed the mind and mingled readily with the atmosphere, being, in fact,
+mere preliminary and idle air. So two deer, in duel, go about and about,
+and even affect to look another way, till they are ripe for collision.
+There be writers would give the reader all the preliminary puffs of
+articulated wind, and everybody would say, "How clever! That is just the
+way girls really talk." But I leave the glory of photographing nullities
+to the geniuses of the age, and run to the first words which could,
+without impiety, be called dialogue.
+
+"Don't you think his conduct a little mysterious?" said Zoe, _mal 'a
+propos_ of anything that had been said hitherto.
+
+"Well, yes; rather," said Fanny, with marked carelessness.
+
+"First, a sick friend; then a bleeding at the nose; and now he won't
+drive to the lake with us. Arrears of correspondence? Pooh!"
+
+Now, Fanny's suspicions were deeper than Zoe's; she had observed Severne
+keenly: but it was not her cue to speak. She yawned and said, "What
+_does_ it matter?"
+
+"Don't be unkind, Fanny. It matters to _me."_
+
+"Not it. You have another ready."
+
+"What other? There is no one that I--Fanny."
+
+"Oh, nonsense! The man is evidently smitten, and you keep encouraging
+him."
+
+"No, I don't; I am barely civil. And don't be ill-natured. What _can_ I
+do?"
+
+"Why, be content with one at a time."
+
+"It is very rude to talk so. Besides, I haven't got one, much less two. I
+begin to doubt _him;_ and, Lord Uxmoor! you know I cannot possibly care
+for him--an acquaintance of yesterday."
+
+"But you know all about him--that he is an excellent _parti,"_ said
+Fanny, with a provoking sneer.
+
+This was not to be borne.
+
+"Oh!" said Zoe, "I see; you want him for yourself. It is _you_ that are
+not content with one. You forget how poor Harrington would miss your
+attentions. He would _begin_ to appreciate them--when he had lost them."
+
+This stung, and Fanny turned white and red by turns. "I deserve this,"
+said she, "for wasting advice on a coquette."
+
+"That is not true. I'm no coquette; and here I am, asking your advice,
+and you only snub me. You are a jealous, cross, unreasonable thing."
+
+"Well, I'm not a hypocrite."
+
+"I never was called so before," said Zoe, nobly and gently.
+
+"Then you were not found out, that is all. You look so simple and
+ingenuous, and blush if a man says half a word to you; and all the time
+you are a greater flirt than I am."
+
+"Oh, Fanny!" screamed Zoe, with horror.
+
+It seems a repartee may be conveyed in a scream; for Fanny now lost her
+temper altogether. "Your conduct with those two men is abominable," said
+she. "I won't speak to you any more."
+
+"I beg you will _not,_ in your present temper," said Zoe, with unaffected
+dignity, and rising like a Greek column.
+
+Fanny flounced out of the room.
+
+Zoe sat down and sighed, and her glorious eyes were dimmed.
+Mystery--doubt--and now a quarrel. What a day! At her age, a little
+cloud seems to darken the whole sky.
+
+
+Next morning the little party met at breakfast. Lord Uxmoor, anticipating
+a delightful day, was in high spirits, and he and Fanny kept up the ball.
+She had resolved, in the silent watches of the night, to contest him with
+Zoe, and make every possible use of Severne, in the conflict.
+
+Zoe was silent and _distraite,_ and did not even try to compete with her
+sparkling rival. But Lord Uxmoor's eyes often wandered from his sprightly
+companion to Zoe, and it was plain he longed for a word from her mouth.
+
+Fanny observed, bit her lip, and tacked internally, "'bout ship," as the
+sailors say. Her game now, conceived in a moment, and at once put in
+execution, was to encourage Uxmoor's attentions to Zoe. She began by
+openly courting Mr. Severne, to make Zoe talk to Uxmoor, and also make
+him think that Severne and she were the lovers.
+
+Her intentions were to utilize the coming excursion: she would attach
+herself to Harrington, and so drive Zoe and Uxmoor together; and then
+Lord Uxmoor, at his present rate of amorous advance, would probably lead
+Zoe to a detached rock, and make her a serious declaration. This good,
+artful girl felt sure such a declaration, made a few months hence in
+Barfordshire, would be accepted, and herself left in the cold. Therefore
+she resolved it should be made prematurely, and in Prussia, with Severne
+at hand, and so in all probability come to nothing. She even glimpsed a
+vista of consequences, and in that little avenue discerned the figure of
+Fanny Dover playing the part of consoler, friend, and ultimately spouse
+to a wealthy noble.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE letters were brought in; one was to Vizard, from Herries, announcing
+a remittance; one to Lord Uxmoor. On reading it, he was surprised into an
+exclamation, and his face expressed great concern.
+
+"Oh!" said Zoe--"Harrington!"
+
+Harrington's attention being thus drawn, he said, "No bad news, I hope?"
+
+"Yes," said Uxmoor, in a low voice, "very bad. My oldest, truest, dearest
+friend has been seized with small-pox, and his life is in danger. He has
+asked for me, poor fellow. This is from his sister. I must start by the
+twelve o'clock train."
+
+"Small-pox! Why, it is contagious," cried Fanny; "and so disfiguring!"
+
+"I can't help that," said the honest fellow; and instantly rang the bell
+for his servant, and gave the requisite orders.
+
+Zoe, whose eye had never left him all the time, said, softly, "It is
+brave and good of you. We poor, emotional, cowardly girls should sit down
+and cry."
+
+_"You_ would not, Miss Vizard," said he, firmly, looking full at her. "If
+you think you would, you don't know yourself."
+
+Zoe colored high, and was silent.
+
+Then Lord Uxmoor showed the true English gentleman. "I do hope," said he,
+earnestly, though in a somewhat broken voice, "that you will not let this
+spoil the pleasure we had planned together. Harrington will be my
+deputy."
+
+"Well, I don't know," said Harrington, sympathizingly. Mr. Severne
+remarked, "Such an occurrence puts pleasure out of one's head." This he
+said, with his eyes on his plate, like one repeating a lesson. "Vizard, I
+entreat you," said Uxmoor, almost vexed. "It will only make me more
+unhappy if you don't."
+
+"We will go," cried Zoe, earnestly; "we promise to go. What does it
+matter? We shall think of you and your poor friend wherever we are. And I
+shall pray for him. But, ah, I know how little prayers avail to avert
+these cruel bereavements." She was young, but old enough to have prayed
+hard for her sick mother's life, and, like the rest of us, prayed in
+vain. At this remembrance the tears ran undisguised down her cheeks.
+
+The open sympathy of one so young and beautiful, and withal rather
+reserved, made Lord Uxmoor gulp, and, not to break down before them all,
+he blurted out that he must go and pack: with this he hurried away.
+
+He was unhappy. Besides the calamity he dreaded, it was grievous to be
+torn away from a woman he loved at first sight, and just when she had
+come out so worthy of his love: she was a high-minded creature; she had
+been silent and reserved so long as the conversation was trivial; but,
+when trouble came, she was the one to speak to him bravely and kindly.
+Well, what must be, must. All this ran through his mind, and made him
+sigh; but it never occurred to him to shirk--to telegraph instead of
+going--nor yet to value himself on his self-denial.
+
+They did not see him again till he was on the point of going, and then he
+took leave of them all, Zoe last. When he came to her, he ignored the
+others, except that he lowered his voice in speaking to her. "God bless
+you for your kindness, Miss Vizard. It is a little hard upon a fellow to
+have to run away from such an acquaintance, just when I have been so
+fortunate as to make it."
+
+"Oh, Lord Uxmoor," said Zoe, innocently, "never mind that. Why, we live
+in the same county, and we are on the way home. All I think of is your
+poor friend; and do please telegraph--to Harrington."
+
+He promised he would, and went away disappointed somehow at her last
+words.
+
+When he was gone, Severne went out on the balcony to smoke, and
+Harrington held a council with the young ladies. "Well, now," said he,
+"about this trip to the lake."
+
+"I shall not go, for one," said Zoe, resolutely.
+
+"La!" said Fanny, looking carefully away from her to Harrington; "and she
+was the one that insisted."
+
+Zoe ignored the speaker and set her face stiffly toward Harrington. "She
+only _said_ that to _him."_
+
+_Fanny._ "But, unfortunately, ears are not confined to the noble."
+
+_Zoe._ "Nor tongues to the discreet."
+
+Both these remarks were addressed pointedly to Harrington.
+
+"Halloo!" said he, looking from one flaming girl to the other; "am I to
+be a shuttlecock, and your discreet tongues the battledoors? What is up?"
+
+"We don't speak," said the frank Zoe; "that is up."
+
+"Why, what is the row?"'
+
+"No matter" (stiffly).
+
+"No great matter, I'll be bound. 'Toll, toll the bell.' Here goes one
+more immortal friendship--quenched in eternal silence."
+
+Both ladies bridled. Neither spoke.
+
+"And dead silence, as ladies understand it, consists in speaking _at_ one
+another instead of _to."_
+
+No reply.
+
+"That is well-bred taciturnity."
+
+No answer.
+
+"The dignified reserve that distinguishes an estrangement from a
+squabble."
+
+No reply.
+
+"Well, I admire permanent sentiments, good or bad; constant resolves,
+etc. Your friendship has not proved immortal; so, now let us see how long
+you can hold spite--SIEVES!" Then he affected to start. "What is this? I
+spy a rational creature out on yonder balcony. I hasten to join him.
+'Birds of a feather, you know;" and with that he went out to his
+favorite, 'and never looked behind him.
+
+The young ladies, indignant at the contempt the big man had presumed to
+cast upon the constant soul of woman, turned two red faces and four
+sparkling eyes to each other, with the instinctive sympathy of the
+jointly injured; but remembering in time, turned sharply round again, and
+presented napes, and so sat sullen.
+
+
+By-and-by a chilling thought fell upon them both at the same moment of
+time. The men were good friends as usual, safe, by sex, from tiffs, and
+could do without them; and a dull day impended over the hostile fair.
+
+Thereupon the ingenious Fanny resolved to make a splash of some sort and
+disturb stagnation. She suddenly cried out, "La! and the man is gone
+away: so what is the use?" This remark she was careful to level at bare
+space.
+
+Zoe, addressing the same person--space, to wit--inquired of him if
+anybody in his parts knew to whom this young lady was addressing herself.
+
+"To a girl that is too sensible not to see the folly of quarreling about
+a man--_when he is gone,"_ said Fanny.
+
+"If it is me you mean," said Zoe stiffly, _"really_ I am _surprised._ You
+forget we are at daggers drawn."
+
+"No, I don't, dear; and parted forever."
+
+Zoe smiled at that against her will.
+
+"Zoe!" (penitentially).
+
+"Frances!" (archly).
+
+"Come cuddle me quick!"
+
+Zoe was all round her neck in a moment, like a lace scarf, and there was
+violent kissing, with a tear or two.
+
+Then they put an arm round each other's waist, and went all about the
+premises intertwined like snakes; and Zoe gave Fanny her cameo brooch,
+the one with the pearls round it.
+
+
+The person to whom Vizard fled from the tongue of beauty was a delightful
+talker: he read two or three newspapers every day, and recollected the
+best things. Now, it is not everybody can remember a thousand
+disconnected facts and recall them apropos. He was various, fluent, and,
+above all, superficial; and such are your best conversers. They have
+something good and strictly ephemeral to say on everything, and don't
+know enough of anything to impale their hearers. In my youth there talked
+in Pall Mall a gentleman known as "Conversation Sharpe." He eclipsed
+everybody. Even Macaulay paled. Sharpe talked all the blessed afternoon,
+and grave men listened, enchanted; and, of all he said, nothing stuck.
+Where be now your Sharpiana? The learned may be compared to mines. These
+desultory charmers are more like the ornamental cottage near Staines,
+forty or fifty rooms, and the whole structure one story high. The mine
+teems with solid wealth; but you must grope and trouble to come to it: it
+is easier and pleasanter to run about the cottage with a lot of rooms.
+all on the ground-floor.
+
+The mind and body both get into habits--sometimes apart, sometimes in
+conjunction. Nowadays we seat the body to work the intellect, even in its
+lower form of mechanical labor: it is your clod that toddles about
+laboring. The Peripatetics did not endure: their method was not suited to
+man's microcosm. Bodily movements fritter mental attention. We _sit_ at
+the feet of Gamaliel, or, as some call him, Tyndal; and we sit to Bacon
+and Adam Smith. But, when we are standing or walking, we love to take
+brains easy. If this delightful chatterbox had been taken down shorthand
+and printed, and Vizard had been set down to Severni Opuscula, ten
+volumes--and, mind you, Severne had talked all ten by this time--the
+Barfordshire squire and old Oxonian would have cried out for "more matter
+with less art," and perhaps have even fled for relief to some shorter
+treatise--Bacon's "Essays," Browne's "Religio Medici," or Buckle's
+"Civilization." But lounging in a balcony, and lazily breathing a cloud,
+he could have listened all day to his desultory, delightful friend,
+overflowing with little questions, little answers, little queries, little
+epigrams, little maxims _'a la Rochefoucauld,_ little histories, little
+anecdotes, little gossip, and little snapshots at every feather flying.
+
+"Quicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas, Gaudia, discursus,
+nostri farrago Severni."
+
+But, alas! after an hour of touch-and-go, of superficiality and soft
+delight, the desultory charmer fell on a subject he had studied. So then
+he bored his companion for the first time in all the tour.
+
+But, to tell the honest truth, Mr. Severne had hitherto been pleasing his
+friend with a cold-blooded purpose. His preliminary gossip, that made the
+time fly so agreeably, was intended to oil the way to lubricate the
+passage of a premeditated pill. As soon as he had got Vizard into perfect
+good humor, he said, apropos of nothing that had passed, "By-the-by, old
+fellow, that five hundred pounds you promised to lend me!"
+
+Vizard was startled by this sudden turn of a conversation, hitherto
+agreeable.
+
+"Why, you have had three hundred and lost it," said he. "Now, take my
+advice, and don't lose any more."
+
+"I don't mean to. But I am determined to win back the three hundred, and
+a great deal more, before I leave this. I have discovered a system, an
+infallible one."
+
+"I am sorry to hear it," said Harrington, gravely. "That is the second
+step on the road to ruin; the gambler with a system is the confirmed
+maniac."
+
+"What! because _other_ systems have been tried, and proved to be false?
+Mine is untried, and it is mere prejudice to condemn it unheard."
+
+"Propound it, then," said Vizard. "Only please observe the bank has got
+its system; you forget that: and the bank's system is to take a positive
+advantage, which must win in the long run; therefore, all counter-systems
+must lose in the long run."
+
+"But the bank is tied to a long run, the individual player is not."
+
+This reply checked Vizard for a moment and the other followed up his
+advantage. "Now, Vizard, be reasonable. What would the trifling advantage
+the bank derives from an incident, which occurs only once in twenty-eight
+deals, avail against a player who could foresee at any given deal whether
+the card that was going to come up the nearest thirty would be on the red
+or black?"
+
+"No avail at all. God Almighty could break the bank every afternoon.
+_Apre's?_ as we say in France. Do you pretend to omniscience?"
+
+"Not exactly."
+
+"Well, but prescience of isolated events, preceded by no _indicia,_
+belongs only to omniscience. Did they not teach you that much at Oxford?"
+
+"They taught me very little at Oxford."
+
+"Fault of the place, eh? You taught _them_ something, though; and the
+present conversation reminds me of it. In your second term, when every
+other man is still quizzed and kept down as a freshman, you, were already
+a leader; a chief of misrule. You founded a whist-club in Trinity, the
+primmest college of all. The Dons rooted you out in college; but you did
+not succumb; you fulfilled the saying of Sydney Smith, that 'Cribbage
+should be played in caverns, and sixpenny-whist in the howling
+wilderness.' Ha! ha! how well I remember riding across Bullington Green
+one fine afternoon, and finding four Oxford hacks haltered in a row, and
+the four undergraduates that had hired them on long tick, sitting
+cross-legged under the hedge like Turks or tailors, round a rude table
+with the legs sawed down to stumps. You had two packs, and a portable
+inkstand, and were so hard at it that I put my mare's nose right over the
+quartet before you saw either her or me. That hedge was like a drift of
+odoriferous snow the hawthorn bloom, and primroses sparkled on its bank
+like topazes. The birds chirruped, the sky smiled, the sun burned
+perfumes; and there sat my lord and his fellow-maniacs,
+snick-snack--pit-pat--cutting, dealing, playing, revoking, scoring, and
+exchanging I. O. U. 's not worth the paper."
+
+"All true, but the revoking," said Severne, merrily. "Monster! by the
+memory of those youthful days, I demand a fair hearing." Then, gravely,
+"Hang it all, Vizard, I am not a fellow that is always intruding his
+affairs and his theories upon other men."
+
+"No, no, no," said Vizard, hastily, and half apologetically; "go on."
+
+"Well, then, of course I don't pretend to foreknowledge; but I do to
+experience, and you know experience teaches the wise."
+
+"Not to fling five hundred after three. There--I beg pardon. Proceed,
+instructor of youth."
+
+"Do listen, then: experience teaches us that luck has its laws; and I
+build my system on one of them. If two opposite accidents are sure to
+happen equally often in a total of fifty times, people, who have not
+observed, expect them to happen turn about, and bet accordingly. But they
+don't happen turn about; they make short runs, and sometimes long ones.
+They positively avoid alternation. Have you not observed this at _trente
+et quarante?"_
+
+"No."
+
+"Then you have not watched the cards."
+
+"Not much. The faces of the gamblers were always my study. They are
+instructive."
+
+"Well, then, I'll give you an example outside--for the principle runs
+through all equal chances--take the university boat-race: you have kept
+your eye on that?"
+
+"Rather. Never missed one yet. Come all the way from Barfordshire to see
+it."
+
+"Well, there's an example."
+
+"Of chance? No, thank you. That goes by strength, skill, wind, endurance,
+chaste living, self-denial, and judicious training. Every winning boat is
+manned by virtues." His eye flashed, and he was as earnest all in a
+moment as he had been listless. A continental cynic had dubbed this
+insular cynic mad.
+
+The professor of chances smiled superior. "Those things decide each
+individual race, and the best men win, because it happens to be the only
+race that is never sold. But go further back, and you find it is chance.
+It is pure chance that sends the best men up to Cambridge two or three
+years running, and then to Oxford. With this key, take the facts my
+system rests on. There are two. The first is that in thirty and odd races
+and matches, the university luck has come out equal on the river and at
+Lord's: the second is, the luck has seldom alternated. I don't say,
+never. But look at the list of events; it is published every March. You
+may see there the great truth that even chances shun direct alternation.
+In this, properly worked, lies a fortune at Homburg, where the play is
+square. Red gains once; you back red next time, and stop. You are on
+black, and win; you double. This is the game, if you have only a few
+pounds. But with five hundred pounds you can double more courageously,
+and work the short run hard; and that is how losses are averted and gains
+secured. Once at Wiesbaden I caught a croupier, out on a holiday. It was
+Good-Friday, you know. I gave him a stunning dinner. He was close as wax,
+at first--that might be the salt fish; but after the _rognons 'a la
+brochette,_ and a bottle of champagne, he let out. I remember one thing
+he said: Monsieur, ce que fait la fortune de la banque ce n'est pas le
+petit avantage qu'elle tire du refait--quoique cela y est pour
+quelquechose--c'est la te'me'rite' de ceux qui perdent, et la timidite'
+de ceux qui gagnent.'"
+
+"And," says Vizard, "there is a French proverb founded on _experience:_
+
+"C'est encore rouge qui perd, Et encore noir. Mais toujours blanc qui
+gagne.'"
+
+Severne, for the first time, looked angry and mortified; he turned his
+back and was silent. Vizard looked at him uneasily, hesitated a moment,
+then flung the remainder of his cigar away and seemed to rouse himself
+body and soul. He squared his shoulders, as if he were going to box the
+Demon of play for his friend, and he let out good sense right and left,
+and, indeed, was almost betrayed into eloquence. "What!" he cried, "you,
+who are so bright and keen and knowing in everything else, are you really
+so blinded by egotism and credulity as to believe that you can invent any
+method of betting at _rouge et noir_ that has not been tried before you
+were born? Do you remember the first word in La Bruy'ere's famous work?"
+
+"No," said Ned, sulkily. "Read nothing but newspapers."
+
+"Good lad. Saves a deal of trouble. Well, he begins 'Tout est
+dit'--'everything has been said;' and I say that, in your business, 'Tout
+est fait'--'everything has been done.' Every move has been tried before
+you existed, and the result of all is that to bet against the bank,
+wildly or systematically, is to gamble against a rock. _Si monumenta
+quoeris, circumspice._ Use your eyes, man. Look at the Kursaal, its
+luxuries, its gardens, its gilding, its attractions, all of them cheap,
+except the one that pays for all; all these delights, and the rents, and
+the croupiers, and the servants, and the income and liveries of an
+unprincipled prince, who would otherwise be a poor but honest gentleman
+with one _bonne,_ instead of thirty blazing lackeys, all come from the
+gains of the bank, which are the losses of the players, especially of
+those that have got a system."
+
+Severne shot in, "A bank was broken last week."
+
+"Was it? Then all it lost has returned to it, or will return to it
+to-night; for gamblers know no day of rest."
+
+"Oh, yes, they do. It is shut on Good-Friday."
+
+"You surprise me. Only three hundred and sixty-four days in the year!
+Brainless avarice is more reasonable than I thought. Severne, yours is a
+very serious case. You have reduced your income, that is clear; for an
+English gentleman does not stay years and years abroad unless he has out
+run the constable; and I feel sure gambling has done it. You had the
+fever from a boy. Bullington Green! 'As the twig's bent the tree's
+inclined.' Come, come, make a stand. We are friends. Let us help one
+another against our besetting foibles. Let us practice antique wisdom;
+let us 'know ourselves,' and leave Homburg to-morrow, instead of
+Tuesday."
+
+Severne looked sullen, but said nothing; then Vizard gave him too hastily
+credit for some of that sterling friendship, bordering on love, which
+warmed his own faithful breast: under this delusion he made an
+extraordinary effort; he used an argument which, with himself, would have
+been irresistible. "Look here," said he, "I'll--won't you have a
+cigar?--there; now I'll tell you something: I have a mania as bad as
+yours; only mine is intermittent, thank Heaven! I'm told a million women
+are as good, or better, than a million men. It may be so. But when I, an
+individual, stake my heart on lovely woman, she always turns out
+unworthy. With me, the sex avoids alternation. Therefore I rail on it
+wholesale. It is not philosophical; but I don't do it to instruct
+mankind; it is to soothe my spleen. Well--would you believe it?--once in
+every three years, in spite of my experience, I am always bitten again.
+After my lucid interval has expired, I fall in with some woman, who seems
+not like the rest, but an angel. Then I, though I'm averse to the sex,
+fall an easy, an immediate victim to the individual."
+
+"Love at first sight."
+
+"Not a bit of it. If she is as beautiful as an angel, with the voice of a
+peacock or a guinea-hen--and, luckily for me, that is a frequent
+arrangement--she is no more to me than the fire-shovel. If she has a
+sweet voice and pale eyes, I'm safe. Indeed, I am safe against Juno,
+Venus, and Minerva for two years and several months after the last; but
+when two events coincide, when my time is up, and the lovely, melodious
+female comes, then I am lost. Before I have seen her and heard her five
+minutes, I know my fate, and I never resist it. I never can; that is a
+curious part of the mania. Then commences a little drama, all the acts of
+which are stale copies; yet each time they take me by surprise, as if
+they were new. In spite of past experience, I begin all confidence and
+trust: by-and-by come the subtle but well-known signs of deceit; so doubt
+is forced on me; and then I am all suspicion, and so darkly vigilant that
+soon all is certainty; for 'les fourberies des femmes' are diabolically
+subtle, but monotonous. They seem to vary only on the surface. One looks
+too gentle and sweet to give any creature pain; I cherish her like a
+tender plant; she deceives me for the coarsest fellow she can find.
+Another comes the frank and candid dodge; she is so off-handed she shows
+me it is not worth her while to betray. She deceives me, like the other,
+and with as little discrimination. The next has a face of beaming
+innocence, and a limpid eye that looks like transparent candor; she gazes
+long and calmly in my face, as if her eye loved to dwell on me, gazes
+with the eye of a gazelle or a young hare, and the baby lips below outlie
+the hoariest male fox in the Old Jewry. But, to complete the delusion,
+all my sweethearts and wives are romantic and poetical skin-deep--or they
+would not attract me--and all turn out vulgar to the core. By their
+lovers alone can you ever know them. By the men they can't love, and the
+men they do love, you find these creatures that imitate sentiment so
+divinely are hard, prosaic, vulgar little things, thinly gilt and double
+varnished."
+
+"They are much better than we are; but you don't know how to take them,"
+said Severne, with the calm superiority of success.
+
+"No," replied Vizard, dryly, "curse me if I do. Well, I did hope I had
+outgrown my mania, as I have done the toothache; for this time I had
+passed the fatal period, the three years. It is nearly four years now
+since I went through the established process--as fixed beforehand as the
+dyer's or the cotton-weaver's--adored her, trusted her blindly, suspected
+her, watched her, detected her, left her. By-the-by, she was my wife, the
+last; but that made no difference; she was neither better nor worse than
+the rest, and her methods and idiotic motives of deceit identical. Well,
+Ned, I was mistaken. Yesterday night I met my Fate once more."
+
+"Where? In Frankfort?"
+
+"No: at Homburg; at the opera. You must give me your word not to tell a
+soul."
+
+"I pledge you my word of honor."
+
+"Well, the lady who sung the part of Siebel."
+
+"Siebel?" muttered Severne.
+
+"Yes," said Vizard, dejectedly.
+
+Severne fixed his eyes on his friend with a strange expression of
+confusion and curiosity, as if he could not take it all in. But he said
+nothing, only looked very hard all the time.
+
+Vizard burst out, "'O miserae hominum mentes, O pectora caeca!' There I
+sat, in the stalls, a happy man comparatively, because my heart, though
+full of scars, was at peace, and my reason, after periodical abdications,
+had resumed its throne, for good; so I, weak mortal, fancied. Siebel
+appeared; tall, easy, dignified, and walking like a wave; modest, fair,
+noble, great, dreamy, and, above all, divinely sad; the soul of womanhood
+and music poured from her honey lips; she conquered all my senses: I felt
+something like a bolt of ice run down my back. I ought to have jumped up
+and fled the theater. I wish I had. But I never do. I am incurable. The
+charm deepened; and when she had sung 'Le Parlate d'Amor' as no mortal
+ever sung and looked it, she left the stage and carried my heart and soul
+away with her. What chance had I? Here shone all the beauties that adorn
+the body, all the virtues and graces that embellish the soul; they were
+wedded to poetry and ravishing music, and gave and took enchantment. I
+saw my paragon glide away, like a goddess, past the scenery, and I did
+not see her meet her lover at the next step--a fellow with a wash-leather
+face, greasy locks in a sausage roll, and his hair shaved off his
+forehead--and snatch a pot of porter from his hands, and drain it to the
+dregs, and say, 'It is all right, Harry: _that_ fetched 'em.' But I know,
+by experience, she did; so _sauve qui peut._ Dear friend and
+fellow-lunatic, for my sake and yours, leave Frankfort with me
+to-morrow."
+
+Severne hung his head, and thought hard. Here was a new and wonderful
+turn. He felt all manner of strange things--a pang of jealousy, for one.
+He felt that, on every account, it would be wise to go, and, indeed,
+dangerous to stay. But a mania is a mania, and so he could not. "Look
+here, old fellow," he said, "if the opera were on to-morrow, I would
+leave my three hundred behind me and sacrifice myself to you, sooner than
+expose you to the fascinations of so captivating a woman as Ina
+Klosking."
+
+"Ina Klosking? Is that her name? How do _you_ know?"
+
+"I--I--fancy I heard so."
+
+"Why, she was not announced. Ina Klosking! It is a sweet name;" and he
+sighed.
+
+"But you are quite safe from her for one day," continued Severne, "so you
+must be reasonable. I will go with you, Tuesday, as early as you like;
+but do be a good fellow, and let me have the five hundred, to try my
+system with to-morrow."
+
+Vizard looked sad, and made no reply.
+
+Severne got impatient. "Why, what is it to a rich fellow like you? If I
+had twelve thousand acres in a ring fence, no friend would ask me twice
+for such a trifling sum."
+
+Vizard, for the first time, wore a supercilious smile at being so
+misunderstood, and did not deign a reply.
+
+Severne went on mistaking his man: "I can give you bills for the money,
+and for the three hundred you did lend me."
+
+Vizard did not receive this as expected. "Bills?" said he, gravely.
+"What, do you do that sort of thing as well?"
+
+"Why not, pray? So long as I'm the holder, not the drawer, nor the
+acceptor. Besides, they are not accommodation bills, but good commercial
+paper."
+
+"You are a merchant, then; are you?"
+
+"Yes; in a small way. If you will allow me, I will explain."
+
+He did so; and, to save comments, yet enable the reader to appreciate his
+explanation, the true part of it is printed in italics, the mendacious
+portion in ordinary type.
+
+_"My estate in Huntingdonshire is not very large; and there are mortgages
+on it,_ for the benefit of other members of my family. I was always
+desirous to pay off these mortgages; and took the best advice I could. _I
+have got an uncle:_ he lives in the city. He put me on to a good thing. I
+bought a share in a trading vessel; she makes short trips, and turns her
+cargo often. She will take out paper to America, and bring back raw
+cotton: she will land that at Liverpool, and ship English hardware and
+cotton fabrics for the Mediterranean and Greece, and bring back currants
+from Zante and lemons from Portugal. She goes for the nimble shilling.
+Well, you know ships wear out: _and if you varnish them rotten, and
+insure them high, and they go to glory, Mr. Plimsoll is down on you like
+a hammer._ So, when she had paid my purchase-money three times over, some
+fellows in the city made an offer for _The Rover_--that was her name. My
+share came to twelve hundred, and my uncle said I was to take it. _Now I
+always feel bound by what he decides._ They gave me four bills, for four
+hundred, three hundred, three hundred, and two hundred. The four hundred
+was paid at maturity. _The others are not due yet._ I have only to send
+them to London, and I can get the money back by Thursday: but you want me
+to start on Tuesday."
+
+"That is enough," said Vizard, wearily, "I will be your banker, and--"
+
+"You are a good fellow!" said Severne warmly.
+
+"No, no; I am a weak fellow, and an injudicious one. But it is the old
+story: when a friend asks you what he thinks a favor, the right thing is
+to grant it at once. He doesn't want your advice; he wants the one thing
+he asks for. There, get me the bills, and I'll draw a check on Muller:
+Herries advised him by Saturday's post; so we can draw on Monday."
+
+"All right, old man," said Severne, and went away briskly for the bills.
+
+When he got from the balcony into the room, his steps flagged a little;
+it struck him that ink takes time to dry, and more time to darken.
+
+As _The Rover,_ with her nimble cargoes, was first cousin to _The Flying
+Dutchman,_ with his crew of ghosts, so the bills received by Severne, as
+purchase-money for his ship, necessarily partook of that ship's aerial
+character. Indeed they existed, as the schoolmen used to say, in _posse,_
+but not in _esse._ To be less pedantic and more exact, they existed as
+slips of blank paper, with a Government stamp. To give them a mercantile
+character for a time--viz., until presented for payment--they must be
+drawn by an imaginary ship-owner or a visionary merchant, and indorsed by
+at least one shadow, and a man of straw.
+
+The man of straw sat down to inscribe self and shadows, and became a
+dishonest writer of fiction; for the art he now commenced appears to fall
+short of forgery proper, but to be still more distinct from justifiable
+fiction. The ingenious Mr. De Foe's certificate by an aeial justice of
+the peace to the truth of his ghostly narrative comes nearest to it, in
+my poor reading.
+
+Qualms he had, but not deep. If the bills were drawn by Imagination,
+accepted by Fancy, and indorsed by Impudence, what did it matter to Ned
+Straw, since his system would enable him to redeem them at maturity? His
+only real concern was to conceal their recent origin. So he wrote them
+with a broad-nibbed pen, that they might be the blacker, and set them to
+dry in the sun.
+
+He then proceeded to a change of toilet.
+
+While thus employed, there was a sharp tap at his door and Vizard's voice
+outside. Severne started with terror, snapped up the three bills with the
+dexterity of a conjurer--the handle turned--he shoved them into a
+drawer--Vizard came in--he shut the drawer, and panted.
+
+Vizard had followed the custom of Oxonians among themselves, which is to
+knock, and then come in, unless forbidden.
+
+"Come," said he, cheerfully, "those bills. I'm in a hurry to cash them
+now, and end the only difference we have ever had, old fellow."
+
+The blood left Severne's cheek and lips for a moment, and he thought
+swiftly and hard. The blood returned, along with his ready wit. "How good
+you are!" said he; "but no. It is Sunday."
+
+"Sunday!" ejaculated Vizard. "What is that to you, a fellow who has been
+years abroad?"
+
+"I can't help it," said Severne, apologetically. "I am
+superstitious--don't like to do business on a Sunday. I would not even
+shunt at the tables on a Sunday--I don't think."
+
+"Ah, you are not quite sure of that. There _is_ a limit to your
+superstition! Well, will you listen to a story on a Sunday?"
+
+"Rather!"
+
+"Then, once on a time there was a Scotch farmer who had a bonny cow; and
+another farmer coveted her honestly. One Sunday they went home together
+from kirk and there was the cow grazing. Farmer Two stopped, eyed her,
+and said to Farmer One, 'Gien it were Monday, as it is the Sabba' day,
+what would ye tak' for your coow?' The other said the price would be nine
+pounds, _if it were Monday._ And so they kept the Sabbath; and the cow
+changed hands, though, to the naked eye, she grazed on _in situ._ Our
+negotiation is just as complete. So what does it matter whether the
+actual exchange of bills and cash takes place to-day or to-morrow?"
+
+"Do you really mean to say it does not matter to you?" asked Severne.
+
+"Not one straw."
+
+"Then, as it does not matter to you, and does to me, give me my foolish
+way, like a dear good fellow."
+
+"Now, that is smart," said Vizard--"very smart;" then, with a look of
+parental admiration, "he gets his own way in everything. He _will_ have
+your money--he _won't_ have your money. I wonder whether he _will_
+consent to walk those girls out, and disburden me of their too profitable
+discourse."
+
+"That I will, with pleasure."
+
+"Well, they are at luncheon--with their bonnets on."
+
+"I will join them in five minutes."
+
+
+After luncheon, Miss Vizard, Miss Dover, and Mr. Severne started for a
+stroll.
+
+Miss Maitland suggested that Vizard should accompany them.
+
+"Couldn't think of deserting you," said he dryly.
+
+The young ladies giggled, because these two rarely opened their mouths to
+agree, one being a professed woman-hater, and the other a man-hater, in
+words.
+
+Says Misander, in a sourish way, "Since you value my conversation so,
+perhaps you will be good enough not to smoke for the next ten minutes."
+
+Misogyn consented, but sighed. That sigh went unpitied, and the lady
+wasted no time.
+
+"Do you see what is going on between your sister and that young man?"
+
+"Yes; a little flirtation."
+
+"A great deal more than that. I caught them, in this very room, making
+love."
+
+"You alarm me," said Vizard, with marked tranquillity.
+
+"I saw him--kiss--her--hand."
+
+"You relieve me," said Vizard, as calmly as he had been alarmed. "There's
+no harm in that. I've kissed the queen's hand, and the nation did not
+rise upon me. However, I object to it. The superior sex should not play
+the spaniel. I will tell him to drop that. But, permit me to say, all
+this is in your department, not mine.
+
+"But what can I do against three of them, unless you support me? There
+you have let them go out together."
+
+"Together with Fanny Dover, you mean?"
+
+"Yes; and if Fanny had any designs on him, Zoe would be safe--"
+
+"And poor Ned torn in two."
+
+"But Fanny, I am grieved to say, seems inclined to assist this young man
+with Zoe; that is, because it does not matter to her. She has other
+views--serious ones."
+
+"Serious! What? A nunnery? Then I pity my lady abbess."
+
+"Her views are plain enough to anybody but you."
+
+"Are they? Then make me as wise as my neighbors."
+
+"Well, then, she means to marry _you."_
+
+"What! Oh, come!--that is too good a joke!"
+
+"It is sober earnest. Ask Zoe--ask your friend, Mr. Severne--ask the
+chambermaids--ask any creature with an eye in its head. Oh, the blindness
+of you men!"
+
+The Misogyn was struck dumb. When he recovered, it was to repine at the
+lot of man.
+
+"Even my own familiar cousin--once removed--in whom I trusted! I depute
+you to inform her that I think her _adorable,_ and that matrimony is no
+longer a habit of mine. Set her on to poor Severne; he is a ladies' man,
+and 'the more the merrier' is his creed."
+
+"Such a girl as Fanny is not to be diverted from a purpose of that sort.
+Besides, she has too much sense to plunge into the Severne
+and--pauperism! She is bent on a rich husband, not a needy adventurer."
+
+"Madam, in my friend's name, I thank you."
+
+"You are very welcome, sir--it is only the truth." Then, with a swift
+return to her original topic: "No; I know perfectly well what Fanny Dover
+will do this afternoon. She sketches."
+
+"It is too true," said Vizard dolefully: "showed me a ship in full sail,
+and I praised it _in my way._ I said, 'That rock is rather well done.'"
+
+"Well, she will be seized with a desire to sketch. She will sit down
+apart, and say, 'Please don't watch me--it makes me nervous.' The other
+two will take the hint and make love a good way off; and Zoe will go
+greater lengths, with another woman in sight--but only just in sight, and
+slyly encouraging her--than if she were quite alone with her _mauvais
+sujet."_
+
+Vizard was pleased with the old lady. "This is sagacious," said he, "and
+shows an eye for detail. I recognize in your picture the foxy sex. But,
+at this moment, who can foretell which way the wind will blow? You are
+not aware, perhaps, that Zoe and Fanny have had a quarrel. They don't
+speak. Now, in women, you know, vices are controlled by vices--see Pope.
+The conspiracy you dread will be averted by the other faults of their
+character, their jealousy and their petulant tempers. Take my word for
+it, they are sparring at this moment; and that poor, silly Severne
+meditating and moderating, and getting scratched on both sides for trying
+to be just."
+
+At this moment the door opened, and Fanny Dover glittered on the
+threshold in Cambridge blue.
+
+"There," said Vizard; "did not I tell you? They are come home."
+
+"Only me," said Fanny gayly.
+
+"Where are the others?" inquired Miss Maitland sharply.
+
+"Not far off--only by the riverside."
+
+"And you left those two alone!"
+
+"Now, don't be cross, aunt," cried Fanny, and limped up to her. "These
+new boots are so tight that I really couldn't bear them any longer. I
+believe I shall be lame, as it is."
+
+"You ought to be ashamed of yourself. What will the people say?"
+
+"La! aunt, it is abroad. One does what one likes--out of England."
+
+"Here's a code of morals!" said Vizard, who must have his slap.
+
+"Nonsense," said Miss Maitland: "she will be sure to meet somebody. All
+England is on the Rhine at this time of the year; and, whether or no, is
+it for you to expose that child to familiarity with a person nobody
+knows, nor his family either? You are twenty-five years old; you know the
+world; you have as poor an opinion of the man as I have, or you would
+have set your own cap at him--you know you would--and you have let out
+things to me when you were off your guard. Fanny Dover, you are behaving
+wickedly; you are a false friend to that poor girl."
+
+Upon this, lo! the pert Fanny, hitherto so ready with her answers, began
+to cry bitterly. The words really pricked her conscience, and to be
+scolded is one thing, to be severely and solemnly reproached is another;
+and before a man!
+
+The official woman-hater was melted in a moment by the saucy girl's
+tears. "There--there," said he, kindly, "have a little mercy. Hang it
+all! Don't make a mountain of a mole-hill."
+
+The official man-hater never moved a muscle. "It is no use her crying to
+_me:_ she must give me a _proof_ she is sorry. Fanny, if you are a
+respectable girl, and have any idea of being my heir, go you this moment
+and bring them home."
+
+"Yes, aunt," said Fanny, eagerly; and went off with wonderful alacrity.
+
+It was a very long apartment, full forty feet; and while Fanny bustled
+down it, Miss Maitland extended a skinny finger, like one of Macbeth's
+witches, and directed Vizard's eye to the receding figure so pointedly
+that he put up his spyglass the better to see the phenomenon.
+
+As Fanny skipped out and closed the door, Miss Maitland turned to Vizard,
+with lean finger still pointing after Fanny, and uttered a monosyllable:
+
+"LAME!"
+
+Vizard burst out laughing. "La fourbe!" said he. "Miss Maitland, accept
+my compliments; you possess the key to a sex no fellow can unlock. And,
+now I have found an interpreter, I begin to be interested in this little
+comedy. The first act is just over. There will be half an hour's wait
+till the simulatrix of infirmity comes running back with the pilgrims of
+the Rhine. Are they 'the pilgrims of the Rhine' or 'the pilgrims of
+Love?' Time will show. Play to recommence with a verbal encounter; you
+will be one against three; for all that, I don't envy the greater
+number."
+
+"Three to one? No. Surely you will be on the right side for once.
+
+"Well, you see, I am the audience. We can't be all _dramatis personae,_
+and no spectator. During the wait, I wonder whether the audience, having
+nothing better to do, may be permitted to smoke a cigar."
+
+"So long a lucid interval is irksome, of course. Well, the balcony is
+your smoking-room. You will see them coming; please tap at my door the
+moment you do."
+
+Half an hour elapsed, an hour, and the personages required to continue
+the comedy did not return.
+
+Vizard, having nothing better to do, fell to thinking of Ina Klosking,
+and that was not good for him. Solitude and _ennui_ fed his mania, and at
+last it took the form of action. He rang, and ordered up his man Harris,
+a close, discreet personage, and directed him to go over to Homburg, and
+bring back all the information he could about the new singer; her address
+in Homburg, married or single, prude or coquette. Should information be
+withheld, Harris was to fee the porter at the opera-house, the waiter at
+her hotel, and all the human commodities that knew anything about her.
+Having dismissed Harris, he lighted his seventh cigar, and said to
+himself, "It is all Ned Severne's fault. I wanted to leave for England
+to-day."
+
+The day had been overcast for some time and now a few big drops fell, by
+way of warning. Then it turned cool: then came a light drizzling rain,
+and, in the middle of this, Fanny Dover appeared, almost flying home.
+
+Vizard went and tapped at Miss Maitland's door. She came out.
+
+"Here's Miss Dover coming, but she is alone."
+
+The next moment Fanny bounced into the room, and started a little at the
+picture of the pair ready to receive her. She did not wait to be taken to
+task, but proceeded to avert censure by volubility and self-praise.
+"Aunt, I went down to the river, where I left them, and looked all along
+it, and they were not in sight. Then I went to the cathedral, because
+that seemed the next likeliest place. Oh, I have had such a race!"
+
+"Why did you come back before you had found them?"
+
+"Aunt, it was going to rain; and it is raining now, hard."
+
+_"She_ does not mind that."
+
+"Zoe? Oh, she has got nothing on!"
+
+"Bless me!" cried Vizard. "Godiva _rediviva."_
+
+"Now, Harrington, don't! Of course, I mean nothing to spoil; only her
+purple alpaca, and that is two years old. But my blue silk, I can't
+afford to ruin _it._ Nobody would give me another, _I_ know."
+
+"What a heartless world!" said Vizard dryly.
+
+"It is past a jest, the whole thing," objected Miss Maitland; "and, now
+we are together, please tell me, if you can, either of you, who is this
+man? What are his means? I know 'The Peerage,' 'The Baronetage,' and 'The
+Landed Gentry,' but not Severne. That is a river, not a family."
+
+"Oh," said Vizard, "family names taken from rivers are never _parvenues._
+But we can't all be down in Burke. Ned is of a good stock, the old
+English yeoman, the country's pride."
+
+"Yeoman!" said the Maitland, with sovereign contempt.
+
+Vizard resisted. "Is this the place to sneer at an English yeoman, where
+you see an unprincely prince living by a gambling-table? What says the
+old stave?
+
+"'A German prince, a marquis of France, And a laird o' the North
+Countrie; A yeoman o' Kent, with his yearly rent, Would ding 'em out, all
+three."'
+
+"Then," said Misander, with a good deal of malicious, intent, "you are
+quite sure your yeoman is not a--_pauper--_an _adventurer--"_
+
+"Positive."
+
+"And a _gambler."_
+
+"No; I am not at all sure of that. But nobody is all-wise. I am not, for
+one. He is a fine fellow; as good as gold; as true as steel. Always
+polite, always genial; and never speaks ill of any of you behind your
+backs."
+
+Miss Maitland bridled at that. "What I have said is not out of dislike to
+the young man. I am warning a brother to take a little more care of his
+sister, that is all. However, after your sneer, I shall say no more
+behind Mr. Severne's back, but to his face--that is, if we ever see his
+face again, or Zoe's either."
+
+"Oh, aunt!" said Fanny, reproachfully. "It is only the rain. La! poor
+things, they will be wet to the skin. Just see how it is pouring!"
+
+"That it is: and let me tell you there is nothing so dangerous as a
+_te'te-'a-te'te_ in the rain."
+
+"A thunder-storm is worse, aunt," said Fanny, eagerly; "because then she
+is frightened to death, and clings to him--_if he is nice."_
+
+Having galloped into this revelation, through speaking first and thinking
+afterward, Fanny pulled up short the moment the words were out, and
+turned red, and looked askant, under her pale lashes at Vizard. Observing
+several twinkles in his eyes, she got up hastily and said she really must
+go and dry her gown.
+
+"Yes," said Miss Maitland; "come into my room, dear."
+
+Fanny complied, with rather a rueful face, not doubting that the public
+"dear" was to get it rather hot in private.
+
+Her uneasiness was not lessened when the old maid said to her, grimly,
+"Now, sit you down there, and never mind your dress."
+
+However, it came rather mildly, after all. "Fanny, you are not a bad
+girl, and you have shown you were sorry; so I am not going to be hard on
+you: only you must be a good girl now, and help me to undo the mischief,
+and then I will forgive you."
+
+"Aunt," said Fanny, piteously, "I am older than she is, and I know I have
+done rather wrong, and I won't do it any more; but pray, pray, don't ask
+me to be unkind to her to-day; it is brooch-day."
+
+Miss Maitland only stared at this obscure announcement: so Fanny had to
+explain that Zoe and she had tiffed, and made it up, and Zoe had given
+her a brooch. Hereupon she went for it, and both ladies forgot the topic
+they were on, and every other, to examine the brooch.
+
+"Aunt," says Fanny, handling the brooch, and eyeing it, "you were a poor
+girl, like me, before grandpapa left you the money, and you know it is
+just as well to have a tiff now and then with a rich one, because, when
+you kiss and make it up, you always get some reconciliation-thing or
+other."
+
+Miss Maitland dived into the past and nodded approval.
+
+Thus encouraged, Fanny proceeded to more modern rules. She let Miss
+Maitland know it was always understood at her school that on these
+occasions of tiff, reconciliation, and present, the girl who received the
+present was to side in everything with the girl who gave it, for that one
+day. "That is the real reason I put on my tight boots--to earn my brooch.
+Isn't it a duck?"
+
+_"Are_ they tight, then?"
+
+"Awfully. See--new on to-day."
+
+"But you could shake off your lameness in a moment."
+
+"La, aunt, you know one can fight _with_ that sort of thing, or fight
+_against_ it. It is like colds, and headaches, and fevers, and all that.
+You are in bed, too ill to see anybody you don't much care for. Night
+comes, and then you jump up and dress, and go to a ball, and leave your
+cold and your fever behind you, because the ball won't wait till you are
+well, and the bores will. So don't ask me to be unkind to Zoe,
+brooch-day," said Fanny, skipping back to her first position with
+singular pertinacity.
+
+"Now, Fanny," said Miss Maitland, "who wants you to be unkind to her? But
+you must and shall promise me not to lend her any more downright
+encouragement, and to watch the man well."
+
+"I promise that faithfully," said Fanny--an adroit concession, since she
+had been watching him like a cat a mouse for many days.
+
+"Then you are a good girl; and, to reward you, I will tell you in
+confidence all the strange stories I have discovered today."
+
+"Oh, do, aunt!" cried Fanny; and now her eyes began to sparkle with
+curiosity.
+
+Miss Maitland then bid her observe that the bedroom window was not a
+French casement, but a double-sash window--closed at present because of
+the rain; but it had been wide open at the top all the time.
+
+"Those two were smoking, and talking secrets; and, child," said the old
+lady, very impressively, "if you--want--to--know--what gentlemen really
+are, you must be out of sight, and listen to them, smoking. When I was a
+girl, the gentlemen came out in their true colors over their wine. Now
+they are as close as wax, drinking; and even when they are tipsy they
+keep their secrets. But once let them get by themselves and smoke, the
+very air is soon filled with scandalous secrets none of the ladies in the
+house ever dreamed of. Their real characters, their true histories, and
+their genuine sentiments, are locked up like that genius in 'The Arabian
+Nights,' and come out in smoke as he did." The old lady chuckled at her
+own wit, and the young one laughed to humor her. "Well, my dear, those
+two smoked, and revealed themselves--their real selves; and I listened
+and heard every word on the top of those drawers."
+
+Fanny looked at the drawers. They were high.
+
+"La, aunt! how ever did you get up there?"
+
+"By a chair."
+
+"Oh, fancy you perched up there, listening, at your age!"
+
+"You need not keep throwing my age in my teeth. I am not so very old.
+Only I don't paint and whiten and wear false hair. There are plenty of
+coquettes about, ever so much older than I am. I have a great mind not to
+tell you; and then much you will ever know about either of these men!"
+
+"Oh, aunt, don't be cruel! I am dying to hear it."
+
+As aunt was equally dying to tell it, she passed over the skit upon her
+age, though she did not forget nor forgive it; and repeated the whole
+conversation of Vizard and Severne with rare fidelity; but as I abhor
+what the evangelist calls "battology," and Shakespeare "damnable
+iteration," I must draw upon the intelligence of the reader (if any), and
+he must be pleased to imagine the whole dialogue of those two unguarded
+smokers repeated to Fanny, and interrupted, commented on at every salient
+point, scrutinized, sifted, dissected, and taken to pieces by two keen
+women, sharp by nature, and sharper now by collision of their heads. No
+candor, no tolerance, no allowance for human weakness, blunted the
+scalpel in their dexterous hands.
+
+Oh, Gossip! delight of ordinary souls, and more delightful still when you
+furnish food for detraction!
+
+To Fanny, in particular, it was exciting, ravishing, and the time flew by
+so unheeded that presently there came a sharp knock and an impatient
+voice cried, "Chatter! chatter! chatter! How long are we to be kept
+waiting for dinner, all of us?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+AT the very commencement of the confabulation, so barbarously interrupted
+before it had lasted two hours and a half, the Misogyn rang the bell, and
+asked for Rosa, Zoe's maid.
+
+She came, and he ordered her to have up a basket of wood, and light a
+roaring fire in her mistress's room, and put out garments to air. He also
+inquired the number of Zoe's bedroom. The girl said it was "No. 74."
+
+The Misogyn waited half an hour, and then visited "No. 74." He found the
+fire burned down to one log, and some things airing at the fire, as
+domestics air their employers' things, but not their own, you may be
+sure. There was a chemise carefully folded into the smallest possible
+compass, and doubled over a horse at a good distance from the cold fire.
+There were other garments and supplementaries, all treated in the same
+way.
+
+The Misogyn looked, and remarked as follows, "Idiots! at everything but
+taking in the men."
+
+Having relieved his spleen with this courteous and comprehensive
+observation, he piled log upon log till the fire was half up the chimney.
+Then he got all the chairs and made a semi-circle, and spread out the
+various garments to the genial heat; and so close that, had a spark
+flown, they would have been warmed with a vengeance, and the superiority
+of the male intellect demonstrated. This done, he retired, with a guilty
+air; for he did not want to be caught meddling in such frivolities by
+Miss Dover or Miss Maitland. However, he was quite safe; those superior
+spirits were wholly occupied with the loftier things of the mind,
+especially the characters of their neighbors.
+
+I must now go for these truants that are giving everybody so much
+trouble.
+
+When Fanny fell lame and said she was very sorry, but she must go home
+and change her boots, Zoe was for going home too. But Fanny, doubting her
+sincerity, was peremptory, and said they had only to stroll slowly on,
+and then turn; she should meet them coming back. Zoe colored high,
+suspecting they had seen the last of this ingenious young lady.
+
+"What a good girl!" cried Severne.
+
+"I am afraid she is a very naughty girl," said Zoe, faintly; and the
+first effect of Fanny's retreat was to make her a great deal more
+reserved and less sprightly.
+
+Severne observed, and understood, and saw he must give her time. He was
+so respectful, as well as tender, that, by degrees, she came out again,
+and beamed with youth and happiness.
+
+They strolled very slowly by the fair river, and the pretty little
+nothings they said to each other began to be mere vehicles for those soft
+tones and looks, in which love is made, far more than by the words
+themselves.
+
+When they started on this walk, Severne had no distinct nor serious views
+on Zoe. But he had been playing with fire for some time, and so now he
+got well burned.
+
+Walking slowly by his side, and conscious of being wooed, whatever the
+words might be, Zoe was lovelier than ever. Those lowered lashes, that
+mantling cheek, those soft, tender murmurs, told him he was dear, and
+thrilled his heart, though a cold one compared with hers.
+
+He was in love; as much as he could be, and more than he had ever been
+before. He never even asked himself whether permanent happiness was
+likely to spring from this love: he was self-indulgent, reckless, and in
+love.
+
+He looked at her, wished he could recall his whole life, and sighed.
+
+"Why do you sigh?" said she, gently.
+
+"I don't know. Yes, I do. Because I am not happy."
+
+"Not happy?" said she. "You ought to be; and I am sure you deserve to
+be."
+
+"I don't know that. However, I think I shall be happier in a few minutes,
+or else very unhappy indeed. That depends on you."
+
+"On me, Mr. Severne?" and she blushed crimson, and her bosom began to
+heave. His words led her to expect a declaration and a proposal of
+marriage.
+
+He saw her mistake; and her emotion spoke so plainly and sweetly, and
+tried him so, that it cost him a great effort not to clasp her in his
+arms. But that was not his cue at present. He lowered his eyes, to give
+her time, and said, sadly, "I cannot help seeing that, somehow, there is
+suspicion in the air about me. Miss Maitland puts questions, and drops
+hints. Miss Dover watches me like a lynx. Even you gave me a hint the
+other day that I never talk to you about my relations, and my past life."
+
+"Pray do not confound me with other people," said Zoe proudly. "If I am
+curious, it is because I know you must have done many good things and
+clever things; but you have too little vanity, or too much pride, to tell
+them even to one who--esteems you, and could appreciate."
+
+"I know you are as generous and noble as most people are narrow-minded,"
+said Severne, enthusiastically; "and I have determined to tell you all
+about myself."
+
+Zoe's cheeks beamed with gratified pride and her eyes sparkled.
+
+"Only, as I would not tell it to anybody but you, I must stipulate that
+you will receive it in sacred confidence, and not repeat it to a living
+soul."
+
+"Not even to my brother, who loves you so?"
+
+"Not even to him."
+
+This alarmed the instinctive delicacy and modesty of a truly virgin soul.
+
+"I am not experienced," said she. "But I feel I ought not to yield to
+curiosity and hear from you anything I am forbidden to tell my brother.
+You might as well say I must not tell my mother; for dear Harrington is
+all the mother I have; and I am sure he is a true friend to you" (this
+last a little reproachfully).
+
+But for Severne's habitual self-command, he would have treated this
+delicacy as ridiculous prudery; but he was equal to greater difficulties.
+
+"You are right, by instinct, in everything. Well, then, I shall tell you,
+and you shall see at once whether it ought to be repeated, or to remain a
+sacred deposit between me and the only creature I have the courage to
+tell it to."
+
+Zoe lowered her eyes, and marked the sand with her parasol. She was a
+little puzzled now, and half conscious that, somehow, he was tying her to
+secrecy with silk instead of rope; but she never suspected the deliberate
+art and dexterity with which it was done.
+
+Severne then made the revelation which he had been preparing for a day or
+two past; and, to avoid eternal comments by the author, I must once more
+call in the artful aid of the printers. The true part of Mr. Severne's
+revelation is in italics; the false in ordinary type.
+
+_"When my father died, I inherited an estate in Huntingdonshire. It was
+not so large as Vizard's, but it was clear. Not a mortgage nor
+incumbrance on it. I had a younger brother;_ a fellow with charming
+manners, and very accomplished. These were his ruin: he got into high
+society in London; _but high society is not always good society._ He
+became connected with a fast lot, some of the young nobility. Of course
+he could not vie with them. He got deeply in debt. Not but what they were
+in debt too, every one of them. He used to send to me for money oftener
+than I liked; but I never suspected the rate he was going at. I was
+anxious, too, about him; but I said to myself he was just sowing his wild
+oats, like other fellows. Well, it went on, until--to his misfortune and
+mine--he got entangled in some disgraceful transactions; the general
+features are known to all the world. I dare say you have heard of one or
+two young noblemen who committed forgeries on their relations and friends
+some years ago. _One of them, the son of an earl, took his sister's whole
+fortune out of her bank, with a single forged check. I believe the sum
+total of his forgeries was over one hundred thousand pounds. His father
+could not find half the money. A number of the nobility had to combine to
+repurchase the documents; many of them were in the hands of the Jews; and
+I believe a composition was effected, with the help of a very powerful
+barrister, an M. P. He went out of his line on this occasion, and
+mediated between the parties._ What will you think when I tell you that
+my brother, the son of my father and my mother, was one of these
+forgers--a criminal?"
+
+"My poor friend!" cried Zoe, clasping her innocent hands.
+
+"It was a thunder-clap. I had a great mind to wash my hands of it, and
+let him go to prison. But how could I? The struggle ended in my doing
+like the rest. Only poor, I had no noble kinsmen with long purses to help
+me, and no solicitor-general to mediate _sub rosa._ The total amount
+would have swamped my family acres. I got them down to sixty per cent,
+and that only crippled my estate forever. As for my brother, he fell on
+his knees to me. But I could not forgive him. _He left the country with a
+hundred pounds_ I gave him. _He is in Canada; and only known there as a
+most respectable farmer._ He talks of paying me back. That I shall
+believe when I see it. All I know for certain is that his crime has
+mortgaged my estate, and left me poor--and suspected."
+
+While Severne related this, there passed a somewhat notable thing in the
+world of mind. The inventor of this history did not understand it; the
+hearer did, and accompanied it with innocent sympathetic sighs. Her
+imagination, more powerful and precise than the inventor's, pictured the
+horror of the high-minded brother, his agony, his shame, his respect for
+law and honesty, his pity for his own flesh and blood, his struggle, and
+the final triumph of fraternal affection. Every line of the figment was
+alive to her, and she _realized_ the tale. Severne only repeated it.
+
+At the last touch of his cold art, the warm-hearted girl could contain no
+longer.
+
+"Oh, poor Mr. Severne!" she cried; "poor Mr. Severne!" And the tears ran
+down her cheeks.
+
+He looked at her first with a little astonishment--fancy taking his
+little narrative to heart like that--then with compunction, and then with
+a momentary horror at himself, and terror at the impassable gulf fixed
+between them, by her rare goodness and his depravity.
+
+Then for a moment he felt, and felt all manner of things at once. "Oh,
+don't cry," he blurted out, and began to blubber himself at having made
+her cry at all, and so unfairly. It was his lucky hour; this hysterical
+effusion, undignified by a single grain of active contrition, or even
+penitent resolve, told in his favor. They mingled their tears; and hearts
+cannot hold aloof when tears come together. Yes, they mingled their
+tears, and the crocodile tears were the male's, if you please, and the
+woman's tears were pure holy drops, that angels might have gathered and
+carried them to God for pearls of the human soul.
+
+After they had cried together over the cool figment, Zoe said: "I do not
+repent my curiosity now. You did well to tell me. Oh, no, you were right,
+and I will never tell anybody. People are narrow-minded. They shall never
+cast your brother's crime in your teeth, nor your own losses I esteem you
+for--oh, so much more than ever! I wonder you could tell me."
+
+"You would not wonder if you knew how superior you are to all the world:
+how noble, how generous, and how I--"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Severne, it is going to rain! We must get home as fast as ever
+we can."
+
+They turned, and Zoe, with true virgin coyness, and elastic limbs, made
+the coming rain an excuse for such swift walking that Severne could not
+make tender love to her. To be sure, Apollo ran after Daphne, with his
+little proposals; but, I take it, he ran mute--till he found he couldn't
+catch her. Indeed, it was as much as Severne could do to keep up with her
+"fair heel and toe." But I ascribe this to her not wearing high heels
+ever since Fanny told her she was just a little too tall, and she was
+novice enough to believe her.
+
+She would not stop for the drizzle; but at last it came down with such a
+vengeance that she was persuaded to leave the path and run for a
+cattle-shed at some distance. Here she and Severne were imprisoned.
+Luckily for them "the kye had not come hame," and the shed was empty.
+They got into the farthest corner of it; for it was all open toward the
+river; and the rain pattered on the roof as if it would break it.
+
+Thus driven together, was it wonderful that soon her hand was in his, and
+that, as they purred together, and murmured soft nothings, more than once
+she was surprised into returning the soft pressure which he gave it so
+often?
+
+The plump declaration she had fled from, and now seemed deliciously
+resigned to, did not actually come. But he did what she valued more, he
+resumed his confidences: told her he had vices; was fond of gambling.
+Excused it on the score of his loss by his brother; said he hoped soon to
+hear good news from Canada; didn't despair; was happy now, in spite of
+all; had been happy ever since he had met _her._ What declaration was
+needed? The understanding was complete. Neither doubted the other's love;
+and Zoe would have thought herself a faithless, wicked girl, if, after
+this, she had gone and accepted any other man.
+
+But presently she had a misgiving, and looked at her watch. Yes, it
+wanted but one hour to dinner. Now, her brother was rather a Tartar about
+punctuality at dinner. She felt she was already in danger of censure for
+her long _te'te-'a-te'te_ with Severne, though the rain was the culprit.
+She could not afford to draw every eye upon her by being late for dinner
+along with him.
+
+She told Severne they must go home now, rain or no rain, and she walked
+resolutely out into the weather.
+
+Severne did not like it at all, but he was wise enough to deplore it only
+on her account; and indeed her light alpaca was soon drenched, and began
+to cling to her. But the spirited girl only laughed at his condolences,
+as she hurried on. "Why, it is only warm water," said she; "this is no
+more than a bath in the summer sea. Bathing is getting wet through in
+blue flannel. Well, I am bathing in blue alpaca."
+
+ "But it will ruin your dress."
+
+"My dress! Why, it is as old as the hills. When I get home I'll give it
+to Rosa, ready washed--ha-ha!"
+
+The rain pelted and poured, and long before they reached the inn, Zoe's
+dress had become an external cuticle, an alpaca skin.
+
+But innocence is sometimes very bold. She did not care a bit; and, to
+tell the truth, she had little need to care. Beauty so positive as hers
+is indomitable. The petty accidents that are the terrors of homely charms
+seem to enhance Queen Beauty. Disheveled hair adorns it: close bound hair
+adorns it. Simplicity adorns it. Diamonds adorn it. Everything seems to
+adorn it, because, the truth is, it adorns everything. And so Zoe,
+drenched with rain, and her dress a bathing-gown, was only a Greek
+goddess tinted blue, her bust and shoulders and her molded figure
+covered, yet revealed. What was she to an artist's eye? Just the Townly
+Venus with her sculptor's cunning draperies, and Juno's gait.
+
+"Et vera incessa patuit Dea."
+
+When she got to the hotel she held up her finger to Severne with a pretty
+peremptoriness. She had shown him so much tenderness, she felt she had a
+right to order him now: "I must beg of you," said she, "to go straight to
+your rooms and dress very quickly, and present yourself to Harrington
+five minutes before dinner at least."
+
+"I will obey," said he, obsequiously.
+
+That pleased her, and she kissed her hand to him and scudded to her own
+room.
+
+At sight of the blazing fire and provident preparations, she started, and
+said, aloud, "Oh, how nice of them!" and, all dripping as she was, she
+stood there with her young heart in a double glow.
+
+Such a nature as hers has too little egotism and low-bred vanity to
+undervalue worthy love. The infinite heart of a Zoe Vizard can love but
+one with passion, yet ever so many more with warm and tender affection.
+
+She gave Aunt Maitland credit for this provident affection. It was out of
+the sprightly Fanny's line; and she said to herself, "Dear old thing!
+there, I thought she was bottling up a lecture for me, and all the time
+her real anxiety was lest I should be wet through." Thereupon she settled
+in her mind to begin loving Aunt Maitland from that hour. She did not
+ring for her maid till she was nearly dressed, and, when Rosa came and
+exclaimed at the condition of her cast-off robes, she laughed and told
+her it was nothing--the Rhine was nice and warm--pretending she had been
+in it. She ordered her to dry the dress, and iron it.
+
+"Why, la, miss; you'll never wear it again, to be sure?" said Rosa,
+demurely.
+
+"I don't know," said the young lady, archly; "but I mean to take great
+care of it," and burst out laughing like a peal of silver bells, because
+she was in high spirits, and saw what Rosa would be at.
+
+Give away the gown she had been wooed and wet through in--no, thank you!
+Such gowns as these be landmarks, my masters.
+
+Vizard, unconscious of her arrival, was walking up and down the room,
+fidgeting more and more, when in came Zoe, dressed high in black silk and
+white lace, looking ever so cozy, and blooming like a rose.
+
+"What!" said he; "in, and dressed." He took her by the shoulders and gave
+her a great kiss. "You young monkey!" said he, "I was afraid you were
+washed away."
+
+Zoe suggested that would only have been a woman obliterated.
+
+"That is true," said he, with an air of hearty conviction. "I forgot
+that."
+
+He then inquired if she had had a nice walk.
+
+"Oh, beautiful! Imprisoned half the time in a cow-shed, and then
+drenched. But I'll have a nice walk with you, dear, up and down the
+room."
+
+"Come on, then."
+
+So she put her right hand on his left shoulder, and gave him her left
+hand, and they walked up and down the room, Zoe beaming with happiness
+and affection for everybody and walking at a graceful bend.
+
+Severne came in, dressed as perfect as though just taken out of a
+bandbox. He sat down at a little table, and read a little journal
+unobtrusively. It was his cue to divest his late _te'te-'a-te'te_ of
+public importance.
+
+Then came dinner, and two of the party absent. Vizard heard their voices
+going like mill-clacks at this sacred hour, and summoned them rather
+roughly, as stated above. His back was to Zoe, and she rubbed her hands
+gayly to Severne, and sent him a flying whisper: "Oh, what fun! We are
+the culprits, and they are the ones scolded."
+
+Dinner waited ten minutes, and then the defaulters appeared. Nothing was
+said, but Vizard looked rather glum; and Aunt Maitland cast a vicious
+look at Severne and Zoe: they had made a forced march, and outflanked
+her. She sat down, and bided her time, like a fowler waiting till the
+ducks come within shot.
+
+But the conversation was commonplace, inconsecutive, shifty, and vague,
+and it was two hours before anything came within shot: all this time not
+a soul suspected the ambushed fowler.
+
+At last, Vizard, having thrown out one of his hints that the fair sex are
+imperfect, Fanny, being under the influence of Miss Maitland's
+revelations, ventured to suggest that they had no more faults than men,
+and _certainly_ were not more deceitful.
+
+"Indeed?" said Vizard. "Not--more--_deceitful!_ Do you speak from
+experience?"
+
+"Oh, no, no," said Fanny, getting rather frightened. "I only think so,
+somehow."
+
+"Well, but you must have a reason. May I respectfully inquire whether
+more men have jilted you than you have jilted?"
+
+"You may inquire as respectfully as you like; but I shan't tell you."
+
+"That is right, Miss Dover," said Severne; "don't you put up with his
+nonsense. He knows nothing about it: women are angels, compared with men.
+The wonder is, how they can waste so much truth and constancy and beauty
+upon the foul sex. To my mind, there is only one thing we beat you in; we
+do stick by each other rather better than you do. You are truer to us. We
+are a little truer to each other."
+
+"Not a little," suggested Vizard, dryly.
+
+"For my part," said Zoe, blushing pink at her boldness in advancing an
+opinion on so large a matter, "I think these comparisons are rather
+narrow-minded. What have we to do with bad people, male or female? A good
+man is good, and a good woman is good. Still, I do think that women have
+greater hearts to love, and men, perhaps, greater hearts for friendship:"
+then, blushing roseate, "even in the short time we have been here we have
+seen two gentlemen give up pleasure for self-denying friendship. Lord
+Uxmoor gave us all up for a sick friend. Mr. Severne did more, perhaps;
+for he lost that divine singer. You will never hear her now, Mr.
+Severne."
+
+The Maitland gun went off: "A sick friend! Mr. Severne? Ha, ha, ha! You
+silly girl, he has got no sick friend. He was at the gaming-table. That
+was his sick friend."
+
+It was an effective discharge. It winged a duck or two. It killed, as
+follows: the tranquillity--the good humor--and the content of the little
+party.
+
+Severne started, and stared, and lost color, and then cast at Vizard a
+venomous look never seen on his face before; for he naturally concluded
+that Vizard had betrayed him.
+
+Zoe was amazed, looked instantly at Severne, saw it was true, and turned
+pale at his evident discomfiture. Her lover had been guilty of
+deceit--mean and rather heartless deceit.
+
+Even Fanny winced at the pointblank denunciation of a young man, who was
+himself polite to everybody. She would have done it in a very different
+way--insinuations, innuendo, etc.
+
+"They have found you out, old fellow," said Vizard, merrily; "but you
+need not look as if you had robbed a church. Hang it all! a fellow has
+got a right to gamble, if he chooses. Anyway, he paid for his whistle;
+for he lost three hundred pounds."
+
+"Three hundred pounds!" cried the terrible old maid. "Where ever did he
+get them to lose?"
+
+Severne divined that he had nothing to gain by fiction here; so he said,
+sullenly, "I got them from Vizard; but I gave him value for them."
+
+"You need not publish our private transactions, Ned," said Vizard. "Miss
+Maitland, this is really not in your department."
+
+"Oh, yes, it is," said she; "and so you'll find."
+
+This pertinacity looked like defiance. Vizard rose from his chair, bowed
+ironically, with the air of a man not disposed for a hot argument.
+
+"In that case--with permission--I'll withdraw to my veranda and, in that
+[he struck a light] peaceful--[here he took a suck] shade--"
+
+"You will meditate on the charms of Ina Klosking."
+
+Vizard received this poisoned arrow in the small of the back, as he was
+sauntering out. He turned like a shot, as if a man had struck him, and,
+for a single moment, he looked downright terrible and wonderfully unlike
+the easy-going Harrington Vizard. But he soon recovered himself. "What!
+you listen, do you?" said he; and turned contemptuously on his heel
+without another word.
+
+There was an uneasy, chilling pause. Miss Maitland would have given
+something to withdraw her last shot. Fanny was very uncomfortable and
+fixed her eyes on the table. Zoe, deeply shocked at Severne's deceit, was
+now amazed and puzzled about her brother. "Ina Klosking!" inquired she;
+"who is that?"
+
+"Ask Mr. Severne," said Miss Maitland, sturdily.
+
+Now Mr. Severne was sitting silent, but with restless eyes, meditating
+how he should get over that figment of his about the sick friend.
+
+Zoe turned round on him, fixed her glorious eyes full upon his face, and
+said, rather imperiously, "Mr. Severne, who is Ina Klosking?"
+
+Mr. Severne looked up blankly in her face, and said nothing.
+
+She colored at not being answered, and repeated her question (all this
+time Fanny's eyes were fixed on the young man even more keenly than
+Zoe's), "Who--and what--is Ina Klosking?"
+
+"She is a public singer."
+
+"Do you know her?"
+
+"Yes; I heard her sing at Vienna."
+
+"Yes, yes; but do you know her to speak to?"
+
+He considered half a moment, and then said he had not that honor. "But,"
+said he, rather hurriedly, "somebody or other told me she had come out at
+the opera here and made a hit."
+
+"What in--Siebel?"
+
+"I don't know. But I saw large bills out with her name. She made her
+_de'but_ in Gounod's 'Faust.'"
+
+"It is _my_ Siebel!" cried Zoe, rapturously. "Why, aunt, no wonder
+Harrington admires her. For my part, I adore her."
+
+_"You,_ child! That is quite a different matter."
+
+"No, it is not. He is like me; he has only seen her once, as I have, and
+on the stage."
+
+"Fiddle-dee-dee. I tell you he is in love with her, over head and ears.
+He is wonderfully inflammable for a woman-hater. Ask Mr. Severne: he
+knows."
+
+"Mr. Severne, is my brother in love with that lady?"
+
+Severne's turn had come; that able young man saw his chance, and did as
+good a bit of acting as ever was extemporized even by an Italian mime.
+
+"Miss Vizard," said he, fixing his hazel eyes on her for the first time,
+in a way that made her feel his power, "what passed in confidence between
+two friends ought to be sacred. Don't--you--think so?" (The girl
+quivered, remembering the secret he had confessed to her.) "Miss Maitland
+has done your brother and me the honor to listen to our secrets. She
+shall repeat them, if she thinks it delicate; but I shall not, without
+Vizard's consent; and, more than that, the conversation seems to me to be
+taking the turn of casting blame and ridicule and I don't know what on
+the best-hearted, kindest-hearted, truest-hearted, noblest, and manliest
+man I know. I decline to take any further share in it."
+
+With these last words in his mouth, he stuck his hands defiantly into his
+pockets and stalked out into the veranda, looking every inch a man.
+
+Zoe folded her arms and gazed after him with undisguised admiration. How
+well everything he did became him; his firing up--his _brusquerie--_the
+very movements of his body, all so piquant, charming, and unwomanly! As
+he vanished from her admiring eyes, she turned, with flaming cheeks, on
+Miss Maitland, and said, "Well, aunt, you have driven them both out at
+the window; now, say something pretty to Fanny and me, and drive us out
+at the door."
+
+Miss Maitland hung her head; she saw she had them all against her but
+Fanny, and Fanny was a trimmer. She said, sorrowfully, "No, Zoe. I feel
+how unattractive I have made the room. I have driven away the gods of
+your idolatry--they are only idols of clay; but that you can't believe. I
+will banish nobody else, except a cross-grained, but respectable old
+woman, who is too experienced, and too much soured by it, to please young
+people when things are going wrong."
+
+With this she took her bed-candle, and retired.
+
+Zoe had an inward struggle. As Miss Maitland opened her bedroom door, she
+called to her: "Aunt! one word. Was it you that ordered the fire in my
+bedroom?"
+
+Now, if she had received the answer she expected, she meant to say, "Then
+please let me forget everything else you have said or done to-day." But
+Miss Maitland stared a little, and said, "Fire in your bedroom? no."
+
+"Oh! Then I have nothing to thank you for this day," said Zoe, with all
+the hardness of youth; though, as a general rule, she had not her share
+of it.
+
+The old lady winced visibly, but she made a creditable answer. "Then, my
+dear, you shall have my prayers this night; and it does not matter much
+whether you thank me for them or not."
+
+As she disappeared, Zoe flung herself wearily on a couch, and very soon
+began to cry. Fanny ran to her and nestled close to her, and the two had
+a rock together, Zoe crying, and Fanny coaxing and comforting.
+
+"Ah!" sighed Zoe, "this was the happiest day of my life; and see how it
+ends. Quarreling; and deceit! the one I hate, the other I despise. No,
+never again, until I have said my prayers, and am just going to sleep,
+will I cry 'O giorno felice!' as I did this afternoon, when the rain was
+pouring on me, but my heart was all in a glow."
+
+These pretty little lamentations of youth were interrupted by Mr. Severne
+slipping away from his friend, to try and recover lost ground.
+
+He was coolly received by Zoe; then he looked dismayed, but affected not
+to understand; then Zoe pinched Fanny, which meant "I don't choose to put
+him on his defense; but I am dying to hear if he has anything to say."
+Thereupon Fanny obeyed that significant pinch, and said, "Mr. Severne, my
+cousin is not a woman of the world; she is a country girl, with
+old-fashioned romantic notions that a man should be above telling fibs. I
+have known her longer than you, and I see she can't understand your
+passing off the gambling-table for a sick friend."
+
+"Why, I never did," said he, as bold as brass.
+
+"Mr. Severne!"
+
+"Miss Dover, my sick friend was at 'The Golden Star.' That's a small
+hotel in a different direction from the Kursaal. I was there from seven
+o'clock till nine. You ask the waiter, if you don't believe me."
+
+Fanny giggled at this inadvertent speech; but Zoe's feelings were too
+deeply engaged to shoot fun flying. "Fanny" cried she, eagerly, "I heard
+him tell the coachman to drive him to that very place, 'The Golden
+Star.'"
+
+"Really?" said Fanny, mystified.
+
+"Indeed I did, dear. I remember 'The Golden Star' distinctly.
+
+"Ladies, I was there till nine o'clock. Then I started for the theater.
+Unfortunately the theater is attached to the Kursaal. I thought I would
+just look in for a few minutes. In fact, I don't think I was there half
+an hour. But Miss Maitland is quite right in one thing. I lost more than
+two hundred pounds, all through playing on a false system. Of course, I
+know I had no business to go there at all, when I might have been by your
+side."
+
+"And heard La Klosking."
+
+"It was devilish bad taste, and you may well be surprised and offended."
+
+"No, no; not at that," said Zoe.
+
+"But hang it all, don't make a fellow worse than he is! Why should I
+invent a sick friend? I suppose I have a right to go to the Kursaal if I
+choose. At any rate, I mean to go to-morrow afternoon, and win a pot of
+money. Hinder me who can."
+
+Zoe beamed with pleasure. "That spiteful old woman! I am ashamed of
+myself. Of course you _have._ It becomes a man to say _je veux;_ and it
+becomes a woman to yield. Forgive our unworthy doubts. We will all go to
+the Kursaal to-morrow."
+
+
+The reconciliation was complete; and, to add to Zoe's happiness, she made
+a little discovery. Rosa came in to see if she wanted anything. That, you
+must know, was Rosa's way of saying, "It is very late. _I_'m tired; so
+the sooner _you_ go to bed, the better." And Zoe was by nature so
+considerate that she often went to bed more for Rosa's convenience than
+her own inclination.
+
+But this time she said, sharply, "Yes, I do. I want to know who had my
+fire lighted for me in the middle of summer."
+
+"Why, squire, to be sure," said Rosa.
+
+"What--_my_ brother!"
+
+"Yes, miss; and seen to it all hisself: leastways, I found the things
+properly muddled. 'Twas to be seen a man had been at 'em."
+
+Rosa retired, leaving Zoe's face a picture.
+
+Just then Vizard put his head cautiously in at the window, and said, in a
+comic whisper, "Is she gone?"
+
+"Yes, she is gone," cried Zoe, "and you are wanted in her place." She ran
+to meet him. "Who ordered a fire in my room, and muddled all my things?"
+said she, severely.
+
+"I did. What of that?"
+
+"Oh, nothing. Only now I know who is my friend. Young people, here's a
+lesson for you. When a lady is out in the rain, don't prepare a lecture
+for her, like Aunt Maitland, but light her fire, like this dear old duck
+of a woman-hating impostor. Kiss me!" (violently).
+
+"There--pest!"
+
+"That is not enough, nor half. There, and there, and there, and there,
+and there, and there."
+
+"Now look here, my young friend," said Vizard, holding her lovely head
+by both ears, "you are exciting yourself about nothing, and that will end
+in one of your headaches. So, just take your candle, and go to bed, like
+a good little girl."
+
+"Must I? Well, then, I will. Goodby, tyrant dear. Oh, how I love you!
+Come, Fanny."
+
+She gave her hand shyly to Severne, and soon they were both in Zoe's
+room.
+
+Rosa was dismissed, and they had their chat; but it was nearly all on one
+side. Fanny had plenty to say, but did not say it. She had not the heart
+to cloud that beaming face again so soon; she temporized: Zoe pressed her
+with questions too; but she slurred things, Zoe asked her why Miss
+Maitland was so bitter against Mr. Severne. Fanny said, in an off-hand
+way, "Oh, it is only on your account she objects to him."
+
+"And what are her objections?"
+
+"Oh, only grammatical ones, dear. She says his _antecedents_ are obscure,
+and his _relatives_ unknown, ha! ha! ha!" Fanny laughed, but Zoe did not
+see the fun. Then Fanny stroked her down.
+
+"Never mind that old woman. I shall interfere properly, if I see you in
+danger. It was monstrous her making an _esclandre_ at the very
+dinner-table, and spoiling your happy day."
+
+"But she hasn't!" cried Zoe, eagerly. "'All's well that ends well.' I am
+happy--oh, so happy! You love me. Harrington loves me. _He_ loves me.
+What more can any woman ask for than to be _ambata bene?"_
+
+This was the last word between Zoe and Fanny upon St. Brooch's day.
+
+As Fanny went to her own room, the vigilant Maitland opened her door that
+looked upon the corridor and beckoned her in. "Well," said she, "did you
+speak to Zoe?"
+
+"Just a word before dinner. Aunt, she came in wet, to the skin, and in
+higher spirits than Rosa ever knew her."
+
+Aunt groaned.
+
+"And what do you think? Her spoiled dress, she ordered it to be ironed
+and put by. _It is a case."_
+
+
+Next day they all met at a late breakfast, and good humor was the order
+of the day. This encouraged Zoe to throw out a feeler about the
+gambling-tables. Then Fanny said it must be nice to gamble, because it
+was so naughty. "In a long experience," said Miss Dover, with a sigh, "I
+have found that whatever is nice is naughty, and whatever is naughty is
+nice."
+
+"There's a short code of morals," observed Vizard, "for the use of
+seminaries. Now let us hear Severne; he knows all the defenses of
+gambling lunacy has discovered."
+
+Severne, thus appealed to, said play was like other things, bad only when
+carried to excess. "At Homburg, where the play is fair, what harm can
+there be in devoting two or three hours of a long day to _trente et
+quarante?_ The play exercises memory, judgment, _sangfroid,_ and other
+good qualities of the mind. Above all, it is on the square. Now, buying
+and selling shares without delivery, bulling, and bearing, and rigging,
+and Stock Exchange speculations in general, are just as much gambling;
+but with cards all marked, and dice loaded, and the fair player has no
+chance. The world," said this youthful philosopher, "is taken in by
+words. The truth is, that gambling with cards is fair, and gambling
+without cards a swindle."
+
+"He is hard upon the City," said the Vizard; "but no matter. Proceed,
+young man. Develop your code of morals for the amusement of mankind,
+while duller spirits inflict instruction."
+
+"You have got my opinion," said Severne. "Oblige us with yours."
+
+"No; mine would not be popular just now: I reserve it till we are there,
+and can see the lunatics at work."
+
+"Oh, then we are to go," cried Fanny. "Oh, be joyful!"
+
+"That depends on Miss Maitland. It is not in my department."
+
+Instantly four bright eyes were turned piteously on the awful Maitland.
+
+"Oh, aunt," said Zoe, pleadingly, "do you think there would be any great
+harm in our--just for once in a way?"
+
+"My dear," said Miss Maitland, solemnly, "I cannot say that I approve of
+public gambling in general. But at Homburg the company is select. I have
+seen a German prince, a Russian prince, and two English countesses, the
+very _e'lite_ of London society, seated at the same table in the Kursaal.
+I think, therefore, there can be no harm in your going, under the conduct
+of older persons--myself, for example, and your brother."
+
+"Code three," suggested Vizard--"the chaperonian code."
+
+"And a very good one, too," said Zoe. "But, aunt, must we look on, or may
+we play just a little, little?"
+
+"My dear, there can be no great harm in playing a little, in _good
+company_--if you play with your own money." She must have one dig at
+Severne.
+
+"I shan't play very deep, then," said Fanny; "for I have got no money
+hardly."
+
+Vizard came to the front, like a man. "No more should I," said he, "but
+for Herries & Co. As it is, I am a Croesus, and I shall stand one hundred
+pounds, which you three ladies must divide; and between you, no doubt,
+you will break the bank."
+
+Acclamations greeted this piece of misogyny. When they had subsided,
+Severne was called on to explain the game, and show the young ladies how
+to win a fortune with thirty-three pounds six shillings and eight pence.
+
+The table was partly cleared, two packs of cards sent for, and the
+professor lectured.
+
+"This," said he, "is the cream of the game. Six packs are properly
+shuffled, and properly cut; the players put their money on black or red,
+which is the main event, and is settled thus: The dealer deals the cards
+in two rows. He deals the _first_ row for black, and stops the moment the
+cards pass thirty. That deal determines how near _noir_ can get to
+thirty-one."
+
+Severne then dealt for _noir,_ and the cards came as follows:
+
+"Queen of hearts--four of clubs--ten of spades--nine of diamonds: total,
+thirty-three."
+
+He then dealt for red:
+
+Knave of clubs--ace of diamonds--two of spades--king of spades--nine of
+hearts: total, thirty-two.
+
+"Red wins, because the cards dealt for red come nearer thirty-one.
+Besides that," said he, "you can bet on the color, or against it. The
+actual color of the first card the player turns up on the black line must
+be black or red. Whichever happens to be it is called 'the color.' Say it
+is red; then, if the black line of cards wins, color loses. Now, I will
+deal again for both events.
+
+"I deal for _noir."_
+
+"Nine of diamonds. Red, then, is the actual color turned up on the black
+line. Do you bet for it, or against it?"
+
+"I bet for it," cried Zoe. "It's my favorite color."
+
+"And what do you say on the main event?"
+
+"Oh, red on that too."
+
+"Very good. I go on dealing for _noir._ Queen of diamonds, three of
+spades, knave of hearts--nine of spades: thirty-two. That looks ugly for
+your two events, black coming so near as thirty-two. Now for red. Four of
+hearts, knave of spades, seven of diamonds, queen of clubs--thirty-one,
+by Jove! _Rouge gagne, et couleur._ There is nothing like courage. You
+have won both events."
+
+"Oh, what a nice game!" cried Zoe.
+
+He then continued to deal, and they all bet on the main event and the
+color, staking fabulous sums, till at last both numbers came up
+thirty-one.
+
+Thereupon Severne informed them that half the stakes belonged to him.
+That was the trifling advantage accorded to the bank.
+
+"Which trifling advantage," said Vizard, "has enriched the man-eating
+company, and their prince, and built the Kursaal, and will clean you all
+out, if you play long enough."
+
+"That," said Severne, "I deny. It is more than balanced by the right the
+players have of doubling, till they gain, and by the maturity of the
+chances: I will explain this to the ladies. You see experience proves
+that neither red nor black can come up more than nine times running.
+When, therefore, either color has come up four times, you can put a
+moderate stake on the other color, and double on it till it _must_ come,
+by the laws of nature. Say red has turned four times. You put a napoleon
+on black; red gains. You lose a napoleon. You don't remove it, but double
+on it. The chances are now five to one you gain: but if you lose, you
+double on the same, and, when you have got to sixteen napoleons, the
+color must change; uniformity has reached its physical limit. That is
+called the maturity of the chances. Begin as unluckily as possible with
+five francs, and lose. If you have to double eight times before you win,
+it only comes to twelve hundred and eighty francs. Given, therefore, a
+man to whom fifty napoleons are no more than five francs to us, he can
+never lose if he doubles, like a Trojan, till the chances are mature.
+This is called 'the Martingale:' but, observe, it only secures against
+loss. Heavy gains are made by doubling judiciously on the _winning_
+color, or by simply betting on short runs of it. When red comes up, back
+red, and double twice on it. Thus you profit by the remarkable and
+observed fact that colors do not, as a rule, alternate, but reach
+ultimate equality by avoiding alternation, and making short runs, with
+occasional long runs; the latter are rare, and must be watched with a
+view to the balancing run of the other color. This is my system."
+
+"And you really think you have invented it?" asked Vizard.
+
+"I am not so conceited. My system was communicated to me, in the Kursaal
+itself--by an old gentleman."
+
+_"An_ old gentleman, or _the_--?"
+
+"Oh, Harrington," cried Zoe, "fie!"
+
+"My wit is appreciated at its value. Proceed, Ned."
+
+Severne told him, a little defiantly, it was an old gentleman, with a
+noble head, a silvery beard, and the most benevolent countenance he ever
+saw.
+
+"Curious place for his reverence to be in," hazarded Vizard.
+
+"He saw me betting, first on the black, then on the red, till I was
+cleaned out, and then he beckoned me."
+
+"Not a man of premature advice anyway."
+
+"He told me he had observed my play. I had been relying on the
+alternations of the colors, which alternation chance persistently avoids,
+and arrives at equality by runs. He then gave me a better system."
+
+"And, having expounded his system, he illustrated it? Tell the truth now;
+he sat down and lost the coat off his back? It followed his family
+acres."
+
+"You are quite wrong again. He never plays. He has heart-disease, and his
+physician has forbidden him all excitement."
+
+"His nation?"
+
+"Humph! French."
+
+"Ah! the nation that produced _'Le philosophe sans le savoir.'_ And now
+it has added, _'Le philosophe sans le vouloir,'_ and you have stumbled on
+him. What a life for an aged man! _Fortunatus ille senex qui ludicola
+vivit._ Tantalus handcuffed and glowering over a gambling-table; a hell
+in a hell."
+
+"Oh, Harrington!--"
+
+"Exclamations not allowed in sober argument, Zoe."
+
+"Come, Ned, it is not heart-disease, it is purse disease. Just do me a
+favor. Here are five sovereigns; give those to the old beggar, and let
+him risk them."
+
+"I could hardly take such a liberty with an old gentleman of his age and
+appearance--a man of honor too, and high sentiments. Why, I'd bet seven
+to four he is one of Napoleon's old soldiers."
+
+The ladies sided unanimously with Severne. "What! offer a _vieux de
+l'Empire_ five pounds? Oh, fie!"
+
+"Fiddle-dee-dee!" said the indomitable Vizard. "Besides, he will do it
+with his usual grace. He will approach the son of Mars with that feigned
+humility which sits so well on youth, and ask him, as a personal favor,
+to invest five pounds for him at _rouge-et-noir._ The old soldier will
+stiffen into double dignity at first, then give him a low wink, and end
+by sitting down and gambling. He will be cautious at starting, as one who
+opens trenches for the siege of Mammon; but soon the veteran will get
+heated, and give battle; he will fancy himself at Jena, since the
+croupiers are Prussians. If he loses, you cut him dead, being a humdrum
+Englishman; and if he wins, he cuts you, and pockets the cash, being a
+Frenchman that talks sentiment."
+
+This sally provoked a laugh, in which Severne joined, and said, "Really,
+for a landed proprietor, you know a thing or two." He consented at last,
+with some reluctance, to take the money; and none of the persons present
+doubted that he would execute the commission with a grace and delicacy
+all his own. Nevertheless, to run forward a little with the narrative, I
+must tell you that he never did hand that five pound to the venerable
+sire; a little thing prevented him--the old man wasn't born yet.
+
+"And now," said Vizard, "it is our last day in Homburg. You are all going
+to gratify your mania--lunacy is contagious. Suppose I gratify mine."
+
+"Do dear," said Zoe; "and what is it?"
+
+"I like your asking that; when it was publicly announced last night, and
+I fled discomfited to my balcony, and, in my confusion, lighted a cigar.
+My mania is--the Klosking."
+
+"That is not a mania; it is good taste. She is admirable."
+
+ "Yes, in an opera; but I want to know how she looks and talks in a room;
+and that is insane of me."
+
+"Then so you _shall,_ insane or not. I will call on her this morning, and
+take you in my hand."
+
+"What an ample palm! and what juvenile audacity! Zoe, you take my breath
+away."
+
+"No audacity at all. I am sure of my welcome. How often must I tell you
+that we have mesmerized each other, that lady and I, and only waiting an
+opportunity to rush into each other's arms. It began with her singling me
+out at the opera. But I dare say that was owing, _at first,_ only to my
+being in full dress.
+
+"No, no; to your being, like Agamemnon, a head taller than all the other
+Greeks."
+
+"Harrington! I am not a Greek. I am a thorough English girl at heart,
+though I am as black as a coal."
+
+"No apology needed in our present frame. You are all the more like the
+ace of spades."
+
+"Do you want me to take you to the Klosking, sir? Then you had better not
+make fun of me. I tell you she sung to _me,_ and smiled on _me,_ and
+courtesied to _me;_ and, now you have put it into my head, I mean to call
+upon her, and I will take you with me. What I shall do, I shall send in
+my card. I shall be admitted, and you will wait outside. As soon as she
+sees me, she will run to me with both hands out, and say, in excellent
+_French,_ I hope, _'How,_ mademoiselle! you have deigned to remember me,
+and to honor me with a visit.' Then I shall say, in school-French, 'Yes,
+madame; excuse the intrusion, but I was so charmed with your performance.
+We leave Homburg to-morrow, and as, unfortunately for myself, I cannot
+have the pleasure of seeing you again upon the stage--' then I shall
+stop, for her to interrupt me. Then she will interrupt me, and say
+charming things, as only foreigners can; and then I shall say, still in
+school-French, 'Madame, I am not alone. I have my brother with me. He
+adores music, and was as fascinated with your Siebel as myself. May I
+present him?' Then she will say, 'Oh, yes, by all means;' and I shall
+introduce you. Then you can make love to her. That will be droll. Fanny,
+I'll tell you every word he says."
+
+"Make love to her!" cried Vizard. "Is this your estimate of a brother's
+motives. My object in visiting this lady is, not to feed my mania, but to
+cure it. I have seen her on the stage, looking like the incarnation of a
+poet's dream. I am _extasie'_ with her. Now let me catch her _en
+de'shabille,_ with her porter on one side, and her lover on the other:
+and so to Devonshire, relieved of a fatal illusion."
+
+"If that is your view, I'll go by myself; for I know she is a noble
+woman, and as much a lady off the stage as on it. My only fear is she
+will talk that dreadful guttural German, with its 'oches' and its
+'aches,' and then where shall we all be? We must ask Mr. Severne to go
+with us."
+
+"A good idea. No--a vile one. He is abominably handsome, and has the gift
+of the gab--in German, and other languages. He is sure to cut me out, the
+villain! Look him up, somebody, till we come back."
+
+"Now, Harrington, don't be absurd. He must, and shall, be of the party. I
+have my reasons. Mr. Severne," said she, turning on him with a blush and
+a divine smile, "you will oblige me, I am sure."
+
+Severne's face turned as blank as a doll's, and he said nothing, one way
+or other.
+
+
+It was settled that they should all meet at the Kursaal at four, to dine
+and play. But Zoe and her party would go on ahead by the one-o'clock
+train; and so she retired to put on her bonnet--a technical expression,
+which implies a good deal.
+
+Fanny went with her, and, as events more exciting than the usual routine
+of their young lives were ahead, their tongues went a rare pace. But the
+only thing worth presenting to the reader came at the end, after the said
+business of the toilet had been dispatched.
+
+Zoe said, "I must go now, or I shall keep them waiting."
+
+"Only one, dear," said Fanny dryly.
+
+"Why only one?"
+
+"Mr. Severne will not go."
+
+"That he will: I made a point of it."
+
+"You did, dear? but still he will not go."
+
+There was something in this, and in Fanny's tone, that startled Zoe, and
+puzzled her sorely. She turned round upon her with flashing eye, and
+said, "No mysteries, please, dear. Why won't he go with me wherever I ask
+him to go? or, rather, what makes you think he won't?"
+
+Said Fanny, thoughtfully: "I could not tell you, all in a moment, why I
+feel so positive. One puts little things together that are nothing apart:
+one observes faces; I do, at least. You don't seem, to me, to be so quick
+at that as most girls. But, Zoe dear, you know very well one often knows
+a thing for certain, yet one doesn't know exactly what makes one know
+it."
+
+Now Zoe's _amour propre_ was wounded by Fanny's suggestion that Severne
+would not go to Homburg, or, indeed, to the world's end with her; so she
+drew herself up in her grand way, and folded her arms and said, a little
+haughtily, "Then tell me what is it you know about _him_ and me, without
+knowing how on earth you know it."
+
+The supercilious tone and grand manner nettled Fanny, and it wasn't
+"brooch day;" she stood up to her lofty cousin like a little game-cock.
+"I know this," said she, with heightened cheek, and flashing eyes and a
+voice of steel, "you will never get Mr. Edward Severne into one room with
+Zoe Vizard and Ina Klosking."
+
+
+Zoe Vizard turned very pale, but her eyes flashed defiance on her friend.
+
+"That I'll know!" said she, in a deep voice, with a little gasp, but a
+world of pride and resolution.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE ladies went down together, and found Vizard ready. Mr. Severne was
+not in the room. Zoe inquired after him.
+
+"Gone to get a sun-shade," said Vizard.
+
+"There!" said Zoe to Fanny, in a triumphant whisper. "What is that for
+but to go with us?"
+
+Fanny made no reply.
+
+They waited some time for Severne and his sun-shade.
+
+At last Vizard looked at his watch, and said they had only five minutes
+to spare. "Come down, and look after him. He _must_ be somewhere about."
+
+They went down and looked for him all over the Platz. He was not to be
+seen. At last Vizard took out his watch, and said, "It is some
+misunderstanding: we can't wait any longer."
+
+So he and Zoe went to the train. Neither said much on the way to Homburg;
+for they were both brooding. Vizard's good sense and right feeling were
+beginning to sting him a little for calling on the Klosking at all, and a
+great deal for using the enthusiasm of an inexperienced girl to obtain an
+introduction to a public singer. He sat moody in his corner, taking
+himself to task. Zoe's thoughts ran in quite another channel; but she was
+no easier in her mind. It really seemed as if Severne had given her the
+slip. Probably he would explain his conduct; but, then, that Fanny should
+foretell he would avoid her company, rather than call on Mademoiselle
+Klosking, and that Fanny should be right--this made the thing serious,
+and galled Zoe to the quick: she was angry with Fanny for prophesying
+truly; she was rather angry with Severne for not coming, and more angry
+with him for making good Fanny's prediction.
+
+Zoe Vizard was a good girl and a generous girl, but she was not a humble
+girl: she had a great deal of pride, and her share of vanity, and here
+both were galled. Besides that, it seemed to her most strange and
+disheartening that Fanny, who did not love Severne, should be able to
+foretell his conduct better than she, who did love him: such foresight
+looked like greater insight. All this humiliated and also puzzled her
+strangely; and so she sat brooding as deeply as her brother.
+
+As for Vizard, by the time they got to Homburg he had made up his mind.
+As they got out of the train, he said, "Look here, I am ashamed of
+myself. I have a right to play the fool alone; but I have no business to
+drag my sister into it. We will go somewhere else. There are lots of
+things to see. I give up the Klosking."
+
+Zoe stared at him a moment, and then answered, with cold decision, "No,
+dear; you must allow me to call on her, now I am here. She won't bite
+_me."_
+
+"Well, but it is a strange thing to do."
+
+"What does that matter? We are abroad."
+
+"Come, Zoe, I am much obliged to you; but give it up."
+
+"No, dear."
+
+Harrington smiled at her pretty peremptoriness, and misunderstood it.
+"This is carrying sisterly love a long way," said he. "I must try and
+rise to your level. I won't go with you."
+
+"Then I shall go alone."
+
+"What if I forbid you, miss?"
+
+She tapped him on the cheek with her fingers. "Don't affect the tyrant,
+dear; you can't manage it. Fanny said something that has mortified me. I
+shall go. You can do as you like. But, stop; where does she live?"
+
+"Suppose I decline to tell you? I am seized with a virtuous fit--a
+regular paroxysm."
+
+"Then I shall go to the opera and inquire, dear. But" (coaxingly) "you
+will tell me, dear."
+
+"There," said Harrington, "you wicked, tempting girl, my sham virtue has
+oozed away, and my real mania triumphs. She lives at 'The Golden Star.' I
+was weak enough to send Harris in last night to learn." Zoe smiled.
+
+He hailed a conveyance; and they started at once for "The Golden Star."
+
+"Zoe," said Harrington gravely, "something tells me I am going to meet my
+fate."
+
+"All the better," said Zoe. "I wish you to meet your fate. My love for my
+brother is not selfish. I am sure she is a good woman. Perhaps I may find
+out something."
+
+"About what?"
+
+"Oh, never mind."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+ALL this time Ina Klosking was rehearsing at the theater, quite
+unconscious of the impending visit. A royal personage had commanded "Il
+Barbiere," the part of Rosina to be restored to the original key. It was
+written for a contralto, but transposed by the influence of Grisi.
+
+Having no performance that night, they began to rehearse rather later
+than usual, and did not leave off till a quarter to four o'clock. Ina,
+who suffered a good deal at rehearsals from the inaccuracy and apathy of
+the people, went home fagged, and with her throat parched--so does a bad
+rehearsal affect all good and earnest artists.
+
+She ordered a cutlet, with potato chips, and lay down on the sofa. While
+she was reposing, came Joseph Ashmead, to cheer her, with good
+photographs of her, taken the day before. She smiled gratefully at his
+zeal. He also reminded her that he had orders to take her to the Kursaal:
+he said the tables would be well filled from five o'clock till quite
+late, there being no other entertainment on foot that evening.
+
+Ina thanked him, and said she would not miss going on any account; but
+she was rather fatigued and faint.
+
+"Oh, I'll wait for you as long as you like," said Ashmead, kindly.
+
+"No, my good comrade," said Ina. "I will ask you to go to the manager and
+get me a little money, and then to the Kursaal and secure me a place at
+the table in the largest room. There I will join you. If _he_ is not
+there--and I am not so mad as to think he will be there--I shall risk a
+few pieces myself, to be nearer him in mind."
+
+This amazed Ashmead; it was so unlike her. "You are joking," said he.
+"Why, if you lose five napoleons at play, it will be your death; you will
+grizzle so."
+
+"Yes; but I shall not lose. I am too unlucky in love to lose at cards. I
+mean to play this afternoon; and never again in all my life. Sir, I am
+resolved."
+
+"Oh, if you are resolved, there is no more to be said. I won't run my
+head against a brick wall."
+
+Ina, being half a foreigner, thought this rather brusk. She looked at him
+askant, and said, quietly, "Others, besides me, can be stubborn, and get
+their own way, while speaking the language of submission. Not I invented
+volition."
+
+With this flea in his ear, the faithful Joseph went off, chuckling, and
+obtained an advance from the manager, and then proceeded to the principal
+gaming-table, and, after waiting some time, secured a chair, which he
+kept for his chief.
+
+An hour went by; an hour and a half. He was obliged, for very shame, to
+bet. This he did, five francs at a time; and his risk was so small, and
+his luck so even, that by degrees he was drawn into conversation with his
+neighbor, a young swell, who was watching the run of the colors, and
+betting in silver, and pricking a card, preparatory to going in for a
+great _coup._ Meantime he favored Mr. Ashmead with his theory of chances,
+and Ashmead listened very politely to every word; because he was rather
+proud of the other's notice: he was so handsome, well dressed, and well
+spoken.
+
+Meantime Ina Klosking snatched a few minutes' sleep, as most artists can
+in the afternoon, and was awakened by the servant bringing in her frugal
+repast, a cutlet and a pint of Bordeaux.
+
+On her plate he brought her a large card, on which was printed "Miss Zoe
+Vizard." This led to inquiries, and he told her a lady of superlative
+beauty had called and left that card. Ina asked for a description.
+
+"Ah, madame," said Karl, "do not expect details from me. I was too
+dazzled, and struck by lightning, to make an inventory of her charms."
+
+"At least you can tell me was she dark or fair."
+
+"Madame, she was dark as night; but glorious as the sun. Her earthly
+abode is the Russie, at Frankfort; blest hotel!"
+
+"Did she tell you so?"
+
+"Indirectly. She wrote on the card with the smallest pencil I have
+hitherto witnessed: the letters are faint, the pencil being inferior to
+the case, which was golden. Nevertheless, as one is naturally curious to
+learn whence a bright vision has emerged, I permitted myself to
+decipher."
+
+"Your curiosity was natural," said Ina, dryly. "I will detain you with no
+more questions."
+
+She put the card carefully away, and eat her modest repast. Then she made
+her afternoon toilet, and walked, slowly and pensively, to the Kursaal.
+
+Nothing there was new to her, except to be going to the table without the
+man on whom it was her misfortune to have wasted her heart of gold.
+
+I think, therefore, it would be better for me to enter the place in
+company with our novices; and, indeed, we must, or we shall derange the
+true order of time and sequence of incidents; for, please observe, all
+the English ladies of our story met at the Kursaal while Ina was reposing
+on her sofa.
+
+The first-comers were Zoe and Harrington. They entered the noble hall,
+inscribed their names, and, by that simple ceremony, were members of a
+club, compared with which the greatest clubs in London are petty things:
+a club with spacious dining-rooms, ball-rooms, concert-rooms,
+gambling-rooms, theater, and delicious gardens. The building, that
+combined so many rich treats, was colossal in size, and glorious with
+rich colors and gold laid on with Oriental profusion, and sometimes with
+Oriental taste.
+
+Harrington took his sister through the drawing-rooms first; and she
+admired the unusual loftiness of the rooms, the blaze of white and gold,
+and of _ce'ladon_ and gold, and the great Russian lusters, and the mighty
+mirrors. But when they got to the dining-room she was enchanted. That
+lofty and magnificent _salon,_ with its daring mixture of red and black,
+and green and blue, all melted into harmony by the rivers of gold that
+ran boldly among them, went to her very heart. A Greek is half an
+Oriental; and Zoe had what may be called the courage of color.
+"Glorious!" she cried, and clasped her hands. "And see! what a background
+to the emerald grass outside and the ruby flowers. They seem to come into
+the room through those monster windows."
+
+"Splendid!" said Harrington, to whom all this was literally Greek. "I'm
+so excited, I'll order dinner."
+
+"Dinner!" said Zoe, disdainfully; and sat down and eyed the Moresque
+walls around her, and the beauties of nature outside, and brought them
+together in one picture.
+
+Harrington was a long time in conclave with M. Chevet. Then Zoe became
+impatient.
+
+"Oh, do leave off ordering dinner," said she, "and take me out to that
+other paradise."
+
+The Chevet shrugged his shoulders with pity. Vizard shrugged his too, to
+soothe him; and, after a few more hurried words, took the lover of color
+into the garden. It was delicious, with green slopes, and rich foliage,
+and flowers, and enlivened by bright silk dresses, sparkling fitfully
+among the green leaves, or flaming out boldly in the sun; and, as luck
+would have it, before Zoe had taken ten steps upon the greensward, the
+band of fifty musicians struck up, and played as fifty men rarely play
+together out of Germany.
+
+Zoe was enchanted. She walked on air, and beamed as bright as any flower
+in the place.
+
+After her first ejaculation at the sudden music, she did not speak for a
+good while; her content was so great. At last she said, "And do they
+leave this paradise to gamble in a room?"
+
+"Leave it? They shun it. The gamblers despise the flowers."
+
+"How perverse people are! Excitement! Who wants any more than this?"
+
+"Zoe," said Vizard, "innocent excitement can never compete with vicious."
+
+"What, is it really wicked to play?"
+
+"I don't know about wicked; you girls always run to the biggest word.
+But, if avarice is a vice, gambling cannot be virtuous; for the root of
+gambling is mere avarice, weak avarice. Come, my young friend, _as we're
+quite alone,_ I'll drop Thersites, and talk sense to you, for once.
+Child, there are two roads to wealth; one is by the way of industry,
+skill, vigilance, and self-denial; and these are virtues, though
+sometimes they go with tricks of trade, hardness of heart, and taking
+advantage of misfortune, to buy cheap and sell dear. The other road to
+wealth is by bold speculation, with risk of proportionate loss; in short,
+by gambling with cards, or without them. Now, look into the mind of the
+gambler--he wants to make money, contrary to nature, and unjustly. He
+wants to be rewarded without merit, to make a fortune in a moment, and
+without industry, vigilance, true skill, or self-denial. 'A penny saved
+is a penny gained' does not enter his creed. Strip the thing of its
+disguise, it is avarice, sordid avarice; and I call it weak avarice,
+because the gambler relies on chance alone, yet accepts uneven chances,
+and hopes that Fortune will be as much in love with him as he is with
+himself. What silly egotism! You admire the Kursaal, and you are right;
+then do just ask yourself why is there nothing to pay for so many
+expensive enjoyments: and very little to pay for concerts and balls; low
+prices at the opera, which never pays its own expenses; even Chevet's
+dinners are reasonable, if you avoid his sham Johannisberg. All these
+cheap delights, the gold, the colors, the garden, the music, the lights,
+are paid for by the losses of feeble-minded Avarice. But, there--I said
+all this to Ned Severne, and I might as well have preached sense to the
+wind."
+
+"Harrington, I will not play. I am much happier walking with my good
+brother--"
+
+"Faute de mieux."
+
+Zoe blushed, but would not hear--"And it is so good of you to make a
+friend of me, and talk sense. Oh! see--a lady with two blues! Come and
+look at her."
+
+Before they had taken five steps, Zoe stopped short and said, "It is
+Fanny Dover, I declare. She has not seen us yet. She is short-sighted.
+Come here." And the impetuous maid dragged him off behind a tuft of
+foliage.
+
+When she had got him there she said hotly that it was too bad.
+
+"Oh, is it?" said he, very calmly. "What?"
+
+"Why, don't you see what she has done? You, so sensible, to be so slow
+about women's ways; and you are always pretending to know them. Why, she
+has gone and bought that costume with the money you gave her to play
+with."
+
+"Sensible girl!"
+
+"Dishonest girl, _I_ call her."
+
+"There you go to your big words. No, no. A little money was given her for
+a bad purpose. She has used it for a frivolous one. That is 'a step in
+the right direction'--jargon of the day."
+
+"But to receive money for one purpose, and apply it to another, is--what
+do you call it--_chose?--de'tournement des fonds_--what is the English
+word? I've been abroad till I've forgotten English. Oh, I
+know--embezzlement."
+
+"Well, that is a big word for a small transaction; you have not dug in
+the mine of the vernacular for nothing."
+
+"Harrington, if you don't mind, I do; so please come. I'll talk to her."
+
+"Stop a moment," said Vizard, very gravely. "You will not say one word to
+her."
+
+"And why not, pray?"
+
+"Because it would be unworthy of us, and cruel to her; barbarously cruel.
+What! call her to account before that old woman and me?"
+
+"Why not? She is flaunting her blues before you two, and plenty more."
+
+"Feminine logic, Zoe. The point is this--she is poor. You must know that.
+This comes of poverty and love of dress; not of dishonesty and love of
+dress; and just ask yourself, is there a creature that ought to be pitied
+more and handled more delicately than a _poor lady?_ Why, you would make
+her writhe with shame and distress! Well, I do think there is not a
+single wild animal so cruel to another wild animal as a woman is to a
+woman. You are cruel to one another by instinct. But I appeal to your
+reason--if you have any."
+
+Zoe's eyes filled. "You are right," said she, humbly. "Thank you for
+thinking for me. I will not say a word to her before _you."_
+
+"That is a good girl. But, come now, why say a word at all?"
+
+"Oh, it is no use your demanding impossibilities, dear. I could no more
+help speaking to her than I could fly; and don't go fancying she will
+care a pin what I say, if I don't say it before _a gentleman."_
+
+Having given him this piece of information, she left her ambush, and
+proceeded to meet the all-unconscious blue girl; but, even as they went,
+Vizard returned to his normal condition, and doled out, rather
+indolently, that they were out on pleasure, and might possibly miss the
+object of the excursion if they were to encourage a habit of getting into
+rages about nothing.
+
+Zoe was better than her word. She met Fanny with open admiration: to be
+sure, she knew that apathy, or even tranquillity, on first meeting the
+blues, would be instantly set down to envy.
+
+"And where did you get it, dear?"
+
+"At quite a small shop."
+
+"French?"
+
+"Oh, no; I think she was an Austrian. This is not a French mixture: loud,
+discordant colors, that is the French taste."
+
+"Here is heresy," said Vizard. "Why, I thought the French beat the world
+in dress."
+
+"Yes, dear," said Zoe, "in form and pattern. But Fanny is right; they
+make mistakes in color. They are terribly afraid of scarlet; but they are
+afraid of nothing else: and many of their mixtures are as discordant to
+the eye as Wagner's music to the ear. Now, after all, scarlet is the king
+of colors; and there is no harm in King Scarlet, if you treat him with
+respect and put a modest subject next to him."
+
+"Gypsy locks, for instance," suggested Fanny, slyly.
+
+Miss Maitland owned herself puzzled. "In my day," said she, "no one ever
+thought of putting blue upon blue; but really, somehow, it looks well."
+
+"May I tell you why, aunt?--because the dress-maker had a real eye, and
+has chosen the right tints of blue. It is all nonsense about one color
+not going with another. Nature defies that; and how? by choosing the very
+tints of each color that will go together. The sweetest room I ever saw
+was painted by a great artist; and, do you know, he had colored the
+ceiling blue and the walls green: and I assure you the effect was
+heavenly: but, then, he had chosen the exact tints of green and blue that
+would go together. The draperies were between crimson and maroon. But
+there's another thing in Fanny's dress; it is velvet. Now, blue velvet is
+blue to the mind; but it is not blue to the eye. You try and paint blue
+velvet; you will be surprised how much white you must lay on. The high
+lights of all velvets are white. This white helps to blend the two tints
+of blue."
+
+"This is very instructive," said Vizard. "I was not aware I had a sister,
+youthful, but profound. Let us go in and dine."
+
+Fanny demurred. She said she believed Miss Maitland wished to take one
+turn round the grounds first.
+
+Miss Maitland stared, but assented in a mechanical way; and they
+commenced their promenade.
+
+Zoe hung back and beckoned her brother. "Miss Maitland!" said she, with
+such an air. _"She_ wants to show her blues to all the world and his
+wife."
+
+"Very natural," said Vizard. "So would you, if you were in a scarlet
+gown, with a crimson cloak."
+
+Zoe laughed heartily at this, and forgave Fanny her new dress: but she
+had a worse bone than that to pick with her.
+
+It was a short but agreeable promenade to Zoe, for now they were alone,
+her brother, instead of sneering, complimented her.
+
+"Never you mind my impertinence," said he; "the truth is, I am proud of
+you. You are an observer."
+
+"Me? Oh--in color."
+
+"Never mind: an observer is an observer; and genuine observation is not
+so common. Men see and hear with their prejudices and not their senses.
+Now we are going to those gaming-tables. At first, of course, you will
+play; but, as soon as ever you are cleaned out, observe! Let nothing
+escape that woman's eye of yours: and so we'll get something for our
+money."
+
+"Harrington," said the girl proudly, "I will be all eye and ear."
+
+Soon after this they went in to dinner. Zoe cast her eyes round for
+Severne, and was manifestly disappointed at his not meeting them even
+there.
+
+As for Fanny, she had attracted wonderful attention in the garden, and
+was elated; her conscience did not prick her in the least, for such a
+trifle as _de'tournement des fonds;_ and public admiration did not
+improve her: she was sprightly and talkative as usual; but now she was
+also a trifle brazen, and pert all round.
+
+And so the dinner passed, and they proceeded to the gaming-tables.
+
+Miss Maitland and Zoe led. Fanny and Harrington followed: for Miss Dover,
+elated by the blues--though, by-the-by, one hears of them as
+depressing--and encouraged by admiration and Chevet's violet-perfumed St.
+Peray, took Harrington's arm, really as if it belonged to her.
+
+They went into the library first, and, after a careless inspection, came
+to the great attraction of the place. They entered one of the
+gambling-rooms.
+
+The first impression was disappointing. There were two very long tables,
+rounded off at the ends: one for _trente et quarante_ and one for
+_roulette._ At each table were seated a number of persons, and others
+standing behind them. Among the persons seated was the dealer, or, in
+roulette, the spinner. This official sat in the center, flanked on each
+side by croupiers with rakes; but at each end of the table there was also
+a croupier with his rake.
+
+The rest were players or lookers-on; most of whom, by well-known
+gradations of curiosity and weakness, to describe which minutely would be
+to write a little comedy that others have already written, were drawn
+into playing at last. So fidgets the moth about the candle before he
+makes up what, no doubt, the poor little soul calls his mind.
+
+Our little party stopped first at _trente et quarante,_ and Zoe commenced
+her observations. Instead of the wild excitement she had heard of, there
+was a subdued air, a forced quiet, especially among the seated players. A
+stern etiquette presided, and the gamblers shrouded themselves in
+well-bred stoicism--losing without open distress or ire, winning without
+open exultation. The old hands, especially, began play with a padlock on
+the tongue and a mask upon the face. There are masks, however, that do
+not hide the eye; and Miss Vizard caught some flashes that escaped the
+masks even then at the commencement of the play. Still, external stoicism
+prevailed, on the whole, and had a fixed example in the _tailleur_ and
+the croupiers. Playing many hours every day in the year but Good-Friday,
+and always with other people's money, these men had parted with passion,
+and almost with sensation; they had become skillful automata, chanting a
+stave, and raking up or scattering hay-cocks of gold, which to them were
+counters.
+
+It was with the monotonous voice of an automaton they intoned:
+
+"Faites le jeu, messieu, messieu."
+
+Then, after a pause of ten seconds:
+
+"Le jeu est fait, messieu."
+
+Then, after two seconds:
+
+"Rien ne va plus."
+
+Then mumble--mumble--mumble.
+
+Then, "La' Rouge perd et couleur," or whatever might be the result.
+
+Then the croupiers first raked in the players' losses with vast
+expedition; next, the croupiers in charge of the funds chucked the
+precise amount of the winnings on to each stake with unerring dexterity
+and the indifference of machines; and the chant recommenced, "Faites le
+jeu, messieu."
+
+Pause, ten seconds.
+
+"Le jeu est fait, messieu."
+
+Pause, two seconds.
+
+"Rien ne va plus."
+
+The _tailleur_ dealt, and the croupier intoned, "La'! Rouge gagne et
+couleur perd:" the mechanical raking and dexterous chucking followed.
+
+This, with a low buzzing, and the deadened jingle of gold upon green
+cloth, and the light grating of the croupiers' rakes, was the first
+impression upon Zoe's senses; but the mere game did not monopolize her
+attention many seconds. There were other things better worth noting: the
+great varieties of human type that a single passion had brought together
+in a small German town. Her ear was regaled with such a polyglot murmur
+as she had read of in Genesis, but had never witnessed before.
+
+Here were the sharp Tuscan and the mellow Roman; the sibilation of
+England, the brogue of Ireland, the shibboleth of the Minories, the twang
+of certain American States, the guttural expectoration of Germany, the
+nasal emphasis of France, and even the modulated Hindoostanee, and the
+sonorous Spanish, all mingling.
+
+The types of face were as various as the tongues.
+
+Here were the green-eyed Tartar, the black-eyed Italian, and the
+gray-eyed Saxon; faces all cheek-bones, and faces no cheek-bones; the red
+Arabian, the fair Dane, and the dark Hindoo.
+
+Her woman's eye seized another phenomenon--the hands. Not nations only,
+but varieties of the animal kingdom were represented. Here were the white
+hands of fair women, and the red paws of obese shop-keepers, and the
+yellow, bird-like claws of old withered gamesters, all stretched out,
+side by side, in strange contrast, to place the stakes or scratch in the
+winnings; and often the winners put their palms or paws on their heap of
+gold, just as a dog does on a bone when other dogs are nigh.
+
+But what Zoe's eye rested on longest were the costume and deportment of
+the ladies. A few were in good taste; others aimed at a greater variety
+of beautiful colors than the fair have, up to this date, succeeded in
+combining, without inflicting more pain on the beholders than a
+beneficent Creator--so far as we can judge by his own system of
+color--intended the cultivated eye to suffer. Example--as the old writers
+used to say--one lady fired the air in primrose satin, with red-velvet
+trimming. This mild mixture re-appeared on her head in a primrose hat
+with a red feather. A gold chain, so big that it would have done for a
+felon instead of a fool, encircled her neck, and was weighted with
+innumerable lockets, which in size and inventive taste resembled a
+poached egg, and betrayed the insular goldsmith. A train three yards long
+completed this gorgeous figure. She had commenced life a shrimp-girl, and
+pushed a dredge before her, instead of pulling a silken besom after her.
+Another stately queen (with an "a") heated the atmosphere with a burnous
+of that color the French call _flamme d'enfer,_ and cooled it with a
+green bonnet. A third appeared to have been struck with the beauty of a
+painter's palette, and the skill with which its colors mix before the
+brush spoils them. Green body, violet skirts, rose-colored trimmings,
+purple sleeves, light green boots, lavender gloves. A shawl all gauze and
+gold, flounced like a petticoat; a bonnet so small, and red feather so
+enormous and all-predominant, that a peacock seemed to be sitting on a
+hedge sparrow's nest.
+
+Zoe suspected these polychromatic ladies at a glance, and observed their
+manners, in a mistrustful spirit, carefully. She was little surprised,
+though a good deal shocked, to find that some of them seemed familiar,
+and almost jocular, with the croupiers; and that, although they did not
+talk loud, being kept in order by the general etiquette, they rustled and
+fidgeted and played in a devil-may-care sort of manner. This was in great
+measure accounted for by the circumstance that they were losing other
+people's money: at all events, they often turned their heads over their
+shoulders, and applied for fresh funds to their male companions.
+
+Zoe blushed at all this, and said to Vizard, "I should like to see the
+other rooms." She whispered to Miss Maitland, "Surely they are not very
+select in this one."
+
+"Lead on," said Vizard; "that is the way."
+
+Fanny had not parted with his arm all this time. As they followed the
+others, he said, "But she will find it is all the same thing."
+
+Fanny laughed in his face. "Don't you _see?_ C'est la chasse au Severne
+qui commence."
+
+"En voil'a un se'v'ere," replied he.
+
+She was mute. She had not learned that sort of French in her
+finishing-school. I forgive it.
+
+The next room was the same thing over again.
+
+Zoe stood a moment and drank everything in, then turned to Vizard,
+blushed, and said, "May we play a little now?"
+
+"Why, of course."
+
+"Fanny!"
+
+"No; you begin, dear. We will stand by and wish you success."
+
+"You are a coward," said Zoe, loftily; and went to the table with more
+changes of color than veteran lancers betray in charging infantry. It was
+the _roulette_ table she chose. That seems a law of her sex. The true
+solution is not so profound as some that have been offered. It is this:
+_trente et quarante_ is not only unintelligible, but uninteresting. At
+_roulette_ there is a pictorial object and dramatic incident; the board,
+the turning of the _moulinet,_ and the swift revolutions of an ivory
+ball, its lowered speed, its irregular bounds, and its final settlement
+in one of the many holes, numbered and colored. Here the female
+understanding sees something it can grasp, and, above all, the female eye
+catches something pictorial and amusing outside the loss or gain; and so
+she goes, by her nature, to _roulette,_ which is a greater swindle than
+the other.
+
+Zoe staked five pounds on No. 21, for an excellent reason; she was in her
+twenty-first year. The ball was so illogical as to go into No. 3, and she
+lost. She stood by her number and lost again. She lost thirteen times in
+succession.
+
+The fourteenth time the ball rolled into 21, and the croupier handed her
+thirty-five times her stake, and a lot more for color.
+
+Her eye flashed, and her cheek flushed, and I suppose she was tempted to
+bet more heavily, for she said, "No. That will never happen to me again,
+I know;" and she rose, the richer by several napoleons, and said, "Now
+let us go to another."
+
+"Humph!" said Vizard. "What an extraordinary girl! She will give the
+devil more trouble than most of you. Here's precocious prudence."
+
+Fanny laughed in his face. "C'est la chasse qui recommence," said she.
+
+I ought to explain that when she was in England she did not interlard her
+discourse with French scraps. She was not so ill-bred. But abroad she had
+got into a way of it, through being often compelled to speak French.
+
+Vizard appreciated the sagacity of the remark, but he did not like the
+lady any the better for it. He meditated in silence. He remembered that,
+when they were in the garden. Zoe had hung behind, and interpreted Fanny
+ill-naturedly; and here was Fanny at the same game, literally backbiting,
+or back-nibbling, at all events. Said he to himself, "And these two are
+friends! female friends." And he nursed his misogyny in silence.
+
+They came into a very noble room, the largest of all, with enormous
+mirrors down to the ground, and a ceiling blazing with gold, and the air
+glittering with lusters. Two very large tables, and a distinguished
+company at each, especially at the _trente et quarante._
+
+Before our little party had taken six steps into the room, Zoe stood like
+a pointer; and Fanny backed.
+
+Should these terms seem disrespectful, let Fanny bear the blame. It is
+her application of the word "chasse" that drew down the simile.
+
+Yes, there sat Ned Severne, talking familiarly to Joseph Ashmead, and
+preparing to "put the pot on," as he called it.
+
+Now Zoe was so far gone that the very sight of Severne was a balsam to
+her. She had a little bone to pick with him; and when he was out of
+sight, the bone seemed pretty large. But when she saw his adorable face,
+unconscious, as it seemed, of wrong, the bone faded and the face shone.
+
+Her own face cleared at the sight of him: she turned back to Fanny and
+Vizard, arch and smiling, and put her finger to her mouth, as much as to
+say, "Let us have some fun. We have caught our truant: let us watch him,
+unseen, a little, before we burst on him."
+
+Vizard enjoyed this, and encouraged her with a nod.
+
+The consequence was that Zoe dropped Miss Maitland's arm, who took that
+opportunity to turn up her nose, and began to creep up like a young cat
+after a bird; taking a step, and then pausing; then another step, and a
+long pause; and still with her eye fixed on Severne. He did not see her,
+nor her companions, partly because they were not in front of him, but
+approaching at a sharp angle, and also because he was just then beginning
+to bet heavily on his system. By this means, two progressive events went
+on contemporaneously: the arch but cat-like advance of Zoe, with pauses,
+and the betting of Severne, in which he gave himself the benefit of his
+system.
+
+_Noir_ having been the last to win, he went against the alternation and
+put fifty pounds on _noir._ Red won. Then, true to his system, he doubled
+on the winning color. One hundred pounds on red. Black won. He doubled on
+black, and red won; and there were four hundred pounds of his five
+hundred gone in five minutes.
+
+On this proof that the likeliest thing to happen--viz., alternation of
+the color--does _sometime_ happen, Severne lost heart.
+
+He turned to Ashmead, with all the superstition of a gambler, "For God's
+sake, bet for me!" said he. He clutched his own hair convulsively, in a
+struggle with his mania, and prevailed so far as to thrust fifty pounds
+into his own pocket, to live on, and gave Ashmead five tens.
+
+"Well, but," said Ashmead, "you must tell me what to do."
+
+"No, no. Bet your own way, for me." He had hardly uttered these words,
+when he seemed to glare across the table at the great mirror, and,
+suddenly putting his handkerchief to his mouth, he made a bolt sidewise,
+plunged amid the bystanders, and emerged only to dash into a room at the
+side.
+
+As he disappeared, a lady came slowly and pensively forward from the
+outer door; lifted her eyes as she neared the table, saw a vacant chair,
+and glided into it, revealing to Zoe Vizard and her party a noble face,
+not so splendid and animated as on the stage, for its expression was
+slumbering; still it was the face of Ina Klosking.
+
+
+No transformation trick was ever done more neatly and smoothly than this,
+in which, nevertheless, the performers acted without concert.
+
+Severne fled out, and the Klosking came slowly in; yet no one had time to
+take the seat, she glided into it so soon after Severne had vacated it.
+
+Zoe Vizard and her friends stared after the flying Severne, then stared
+at the newcomer, and then turned round and stared at each other, in
+mutual amazement and inquiry.
+
+What was the meaning of this double incident, that resembled a conjurer's
+trick? Having looked at her companions, and seen only her own surprise
+reflected, Zoe Vizard fixed her eyes, like burning-glasses, upon Ina
+Klosking.
+
+Then that lady thickened the mystery. She seemed very familiar with the
+man Severne had been so familiar with.
+
+That man contributed his share to the multiplying mystery. He had a muddy
+complexion, hair the color of dirt, a long nose, a hatchet face, mean
+little eyes, and was evidently not a gentleman. He wore a brown velveteen
+shooting-coat, with a magenta tie that gave Zoe a pain in the eye. She
+had already felt sorry to see her Severne was acquainted with such a man.
+He seemed to her the _ne plus ultra_ of vulgarity; and now, behold, the
+artist, the woman she had so admired, was equally familiar with the same
+objectionable person.
+
+To appreciate the hopeless puzzle of Zoe Vizard, the reader must be on
+his guard against his own knowledge. He knows that Severne and Ashmead
+were two Bohemians, who had struck up acquaintance, all in a minute, that
+very evening. But Zoe had not this knowledge, and she could not possibly
+divine it. The whole thing was presented to her senses thus: a vulgar
+man, with a brown velveteen shooting-coat and a red-hot tie was a mutual
+friend of the gentlemanly Severne and the dignified Klosking. Severne
+left the mutual friend; Mademoiselle Klosking joined the mutual friend;
+and there she sat, where Severne had sat a moment ago, by the side of
+their mutual friend.
+
+All manner of thoughts and surmises thronged upon Zoe Vizard; but each
+way of accounting for the mystery contradicted some plain fact or other;
+so she was driven at last to a woman's remedy. She would wait, and watch.
+Severne would probably come back, and somehow furnish the key. Meantime
+her eye was not likely to leave the Klosking, nor her ear to miss a
+syllable the Klosking might utter.
+
+She whispered to Vizard, in a very peculiar tone, "I will play at this
+table," and stepped up to it, with the word.
+
+The duration of such beauty as Zoe's is proverbially limited; but the
+limit to its power, while it does last, has not yet been discovered. It
+is a fact that, as soon as she came close to the table two male gamblers
+looked up, saw her, wondered at her, and actually jumped up and offered
+their seats: she made a courteous inclination of the head, and installed
+Miss Maitland in one seat, without reserve. She put a little gold on the
+table, and asked Miss Maitland, in a whisper, to play for her. She
+herself had neither eye nor ear except for Ina Klosking. That lady was
+having a discussion, _sotto voce,_ with Ashmead; and if she had been one
+of your mumblers whose name is legion, even Zoe's swift ear could have
+caught little or nothing. But when a voice has volume, and the great
+habit of articulation has been brought to perfection, the words travel
+surprisingly.
+
+Zoe heard the lady say to Ashmead, scarcely above her breath, "Well, but
+if he requested you to bet for him, how can he blame you?"
+
+Zoe could not catch Ashmead's reply, but it was accompanied by a shake of
+the head; so she understood him to object.
+
+Then, after a little more discussion, Ina Klosking said, "What money have
+you of mine?"
+
+Ashmead produced some notes.
+
+"Very well," said the Klosking. "Now, I shall take my twenty-five pounds,
+and twenty-five pounds of his, and play. When he returns, we shall, at
+all events, have twenty-five pounds safe for him. I take the
+responsibility."
+
+"Oh," thought Zoe; "then he _is_ coming back. Ah, I shall see what all
+this means." She felt sick at heart.
+
+Zoe Vizard was on the other side, but not opposite Mademoiselle Klosking;
+she was considerably to the right hand; and as the new-comer was much
+occupied, just at first, with Ashmead, who sat on her left, Zoe had time
+to dissect her, which she did without mercy. Well, her costume was
+beautifully made, and fitted on a symmetrical figure; but as to color, it
+was neutral--a warm French gray, and neither courted admiration nor
+risked censure: it was unpretending. Her lace collar was valuable, but
+not striking. Her hair was beautiful, both in gloss and color, and
+beautifully, but neatly, arranged. Her gloves and wristbands were
+perfect.
+
+As every woman aims at appearance, openly or secretly, and every other
+woman knows she does, Zoe did not look at this meek dress with male
+simplicity, unsuspicious of design, but asked herself what was the
+leading motive; and the question was no sooner asked than answered. "She
+has dressed for her golden hair and her white throat. Her hair, her deep
+gray eyes, and her skin, are just like a flower: she has dressed herself
+as the modest stalk. She is an artist."
+
+At the same table were a Russian princess, an English countess, and a
+Bavarian duchess--all well dressed, upon the whole. But their dresses
+showed off their dresses; the Klosking's showed off herself. And there
+was a native dignity, and, above all, a wonderful seemliness, about the
+Klosking that inspired respect. Dress and deportment were all of a
+piece--decent and deep.
+
+While Zoe was picking her to pieces, Ina, having settled matters with
+Ashmead, looked up, and, of course, took in every other woman who was in
+sight at a single sweep. She recognized Zoe directly, with a flush of
+pleasure; a sweet, bright expression broke over her face, and she bowed
+to her with a respectful cordiality that was captivating.
+
+Zoe yielded to the charm of manner, and bowed and smiled in return,
+though, till that moment, she had been knitting her black brows at her in
+wonder and vague suspicion.
+
+Ina trifled with the game, at first. Ashmead was still talking to her of
+the young swell and his system. He explained it to her, and how it had
+failed. "Not but what," said he, "there is a great deal in it most
+evenings. But to-day there are no runs; it is all turn and turn about. If
+it would rain, now, you would see a change."
+
+"Well," said Ina, "I will bet a few pounds on red, then on black, till
+these runs begin."
+
+During the above conversation, of which Zoe caught little, because
+Ashmead was the chief speaker, she cast her eyes all round the table and
+saw a curious assemblage of figures.
+
+There was a solemn Turk melting his piasters with admirable gravity;
+there was the Russian princess; and there was a lady, dressed in loud,
+incongruous colors, such as once drew from a horrified modiste the cry,
+"Ah, Dieu! quelle immoralite'!" and that's a fact. There was a Popish
+priest, looking sheepish as he staked his silver, and an Anglican rector,
+betting flyers, and as _nonchalant,_ in the blest absence of his flock
+and the Baptist minister, as if he were playing at whist with the old
+Bishop of Norwich, who played a nightly rubber in my father's day--and a
+very bad one. There was a French count, nearly six feet high, to whom the
+word "old" would have been unjust: he was antique, and had turned into
+bones and leather; but the hair on that dilapidated trunk was its own;
+and Zoe preferred him much to the lusty old English beau beside him, with
+ivory teeth and ebon locks that cost a pretty penny.
+
+There was a fat, livid Neapolitan betting heavily; there was a creole
+lady, with a fine oval face, rather sallow, and eyes and hair as black as
+Zoe's own. Indeed, the creole excelled her, by the addition of a little
+black fringe upon her upper lip that, prejudice apart, became her very
+well. Her front hair was confined by two gold threads a little way apart,
+on which were fixed a singular ornament, the vivid eyes of a peacock's
+tail set close together all round. It was glorious, regal. The hussy
+should have been the Queen of Sheba, receiving Solomon, and showing her
+peacock's eyes against his crown-jewels. Like the lilies of the field,
+these products of nature are bad to beat, as we say on Yorkshire turf.
+
+Indeed that frontlet was so beautiful and well placed, it drew forth
+glances of marked disdain from every lady within sight of it, Zoe
+excepted. She was placable. This was a lesson in color; and she managed
+to forgive the teacher, in consideration of the lesson.
+
+Amid the gaudier birds, there was a dove--a young lady, well dressed,
+with Quaker-like simplicity, in gray silk dress with no trimmings, a
+white silk bonnet and veil. Her face was full of virtues. Meeting her
+elsewhere, you would say "That is a good wife, a good daughter, and the
+making of a good mother." Her expression at the table was thoughtful and
+a little anxious; but every now and then she turned her head to look for
+her husband, and gave him so sweet a smile of conjugal sympathy and
+affection as made Zoe almost pray they might win. The husband was an
+officer, a veteran, with grizzled hair and mustache, a colonel who had
+commanded a brigade in action, but could only love and spoil his wife. He
+ought to have been her father, her friend, her commander, and marched her
+out of that "curse-all" to the top of Cader Idris, if need was. Instead
+of that, he stood behind her chair like her lackey all day: for his dove
+was as desperate a gambler as any in Europe. It was not that she bet very
+heavily, but that she bet every day and all day. She began in the
+afternoon, and played till midnight if there was a table going. She knew
+no day of religion--no day of rest. She won, and she lost: her own
+fortune and her husband's stood the money drain; but how about the golden
+hours? She was losing her youth and wasting her soul. Yet the
+administration gave her a warning; they did not allow the irretrievable
+hours to be stolen from her with a noiseless hand. At All Souls' College,
+Oxford, in the first quadrangle, grave, thoughtful men raised to the top
+story, two hundred years ago, a grand sundial, the largest, perhaps, and
+noblest in the kingdom. They set it on the face of the Quad, and wrote
+over the long pointer in large letters of gold, these words, "Pereunt et
+imputantur," which refer to the hours indicated below, and mean
+literally, "They perish, and go down to our account;" but really imply a
+little more, viz., that "they are wasted, and go to our debit." These are
+true words and big words--bigger than any royal commissioner has uttered
+up to date--and reach the mind through the senses, and have warned the
+scholars of many a generation not to throw away the seed-time of their
+youth, which never can come twice to any man. Well, the administration of
+the Kursaal conveyed to that lost English dove and others a note of
+warning which struck the senses, as does the immortal warning emblazoned
+on the fair brow of that beautiful college; only, in the Kursaal the
+warning struck the ear, not the eye. They provided French clocks with a
+singularly clear metallic striking tick; their blows upon the life of
+Time rang sharp above the chant, the mumble, and the jingle. These clocks
+seemed to cry aloud, and say of the hours, whose waste they recorded,
+"Pereunt - et - impu-tantur, pere - unt - et - imputantur."
+
+Reckless of this protest, the waves of play rolled on, and ere long
+sucked all our characters but Vizard into the vortex. Zoe hazarded a
+sovereign on red, and won; then two on black, and won; then four on red,
+and won. She was launched, and Fanny too. They got excited, and bet
+higher; the croupiers pelted them with golden coins, and they began to
+pant and flush, and their eyes to gleam. The old gamblers' eyes seem to
+have lost this power--they have grown fishy; but the eyes of these female
+novices were a sight. Fanny's, being light gray, gleamed like a panther's
+whose prey is within leap. Zoe's dark orbs could not resemble any wild
+beast's; but they glowed with unholy fire; and, indeed, all down the
+table was now seen that which no painter can convey--for his beautiful
+but contracted art confines him to a moment of time--and writers have
+strangely neglected to notice, viz., the _progress of the countenance_
+under play. Many of the masks melted, as if they had been of wax, and the
+natural expressions forced their way; some got flushed with triumph,
+others wild and haggard with their losses. One ghastly, glaring loser sat
+quite quiet, when his all was gone, but clinched his hands so that the
+nails ran into the flesh, and blood trickled: discovering which, a friend
+dragged him off like something dead. Nobody minded.
+
+The fat old beau got worried by his teeth and pulled them out in a pet
+and pocketed them.
+
+Miss Maitland, who had begun with her gray hair in neat little curls,
+deranged one so with convulsive hand that it came all down her cheek, and
+looked most rakish and unbecoming. Even Zoe and Fanny had turned from
+lambs to leopardesses--patches of red on each cheek, and eyes like
+red-hot coals.
+
+The colors had begun to run, and at first the players lost largely to the
+bank, with one exception.
+
+Ina Klosking discerned the change, and backed the winning color, then
+doubled on it twice. She did this so luckily three or four times that,
+though her single stake was at first only forty pounds, gold seemed to
+grow around her, and even notes to rise and make a cushion. She, too, was
+excited, though not openly; her gloves were off, and her own lovely hand,
+the whitest in the room, placed the stakes. You might see a red spot on
+her cheek-bone, and a strange glint in her deep eye; but she could not do
+anything that was not seemly.
+
+She played calmly, boldly, on the system that had cleared out Ned
+Severne, and she won heavily, because she was in luck. It was her hour
+and her vein.
+
+By this time Zoe and Fanny were cleaned out; and looked in amazement at
+the Klosking, and wondered how she did it.
+
+Miss Maitland, at her last sovereign, began to lean on the victorious
+Klosking, and bet as she did: her pile increased. The dove caught sight
+of her game, and backed her luck. The creole backed her heavily.
+
+Presently there was an extraordinary run on black. Numbers were caught.
+The Klosking won three times, and lost three times; but the bets she won
+were double bets, and those she lost were single.
+
+Then came a _refait,_ and the bank swept off half her stake; but even
+here she was lucky. She had only forty pounds on.
+
+By-and-by came the event of the night. Black had for some time appeared
+to rule the roost, and thrust red off the table, and the Klosking lost
+two hundred pounds.
+
+The Klosking put two hundred pounds on red: it won. She doubled: red won.
+She doubled: there was a dead silence. The creole lady put the maximum on
+red, three hundred pounds: red won. Ina Klosking looked a little pale;
+but, driven by some unaccountable impulse, she doubled. So did the
+creole. Red won. The automata chucked sixteen hundred pounds to the
+Klosking, and six hundred pounds to the other lady. Ina bet forty pounds
+on black. Red won again. She put two hundred pounds on black: black won.
+She doubled: black won again. She doubled: black won. Doubled again:
+black won.
+
+The creole and others stood with her in that last run, and the money was
+chucked. But the settlement was followed by a short whisper, and a
+croupier, in a voice as mechanical as ever, chanted that the sum set
+apart for that table was exhausted for that day.
+
+The Klosking and her backers had broken the bank.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THERE was a buzzing, and a thronging round the victorious player.
+
+Ina rose, and, with a delicate movement of her milk-white hand, turned
+the mountain of gold and column of notes toward Ashmead. "Make haste,
+please," she whispered; then put on her gloves deliberately, while
+Ashmead shoved the gold and the notes anyhow into the inner pockets of
+his shooting-jacket, and buttoned it well up.
+
+_"Allons,"_ said she, calmly, and took his arm; but, as she moved away,
+she saw Zoe Vizard passing on the other side of the table. Their eyes
+met: she dropped Ashmead's arm and made her a sweeping courtesy full of
+polite consideration, and a sort of courteous respect for the person
+saluted, coupled with a certain dignity, and then she looked wistfully at
+her a moment. I believe she would have spoken to her if she had been
+alone; but Miss Maitland and Fanny Dover had, both of them, a trick of
+putting on _noli-me-tangere_ faces among strangers. It did not mean much;
+it is an unfortunate English habit. But it repels foreigners: they
+neither do it nor understand it.
+
+Those two faces, not downright forbidding, but uninviting, turned the
+scale; and the Klosking, who was not a forward woman, did not yield to
+her inclination and speak to Zoe. She took Ashmead's arm again and moved
+away.
+
+Then Zoe turned back and beckoned Vizard. He joined her. "There she is,"
+said Zoe; "shall I speak to her?"
+
+Would you believe it? He thought a moment, and then said, gloomily,
+"Well, no. Half cured now. Seen the lover in time." So that opportunity
+was frittered away.
+
+Before the English party left the Kursaal, Zoe asked, timidly, if they
+ought not to make some inquiry about Mr. Severne. He had been taken ill
+again.
+
+"Ay, taken ill, and gone to be cured at another table," said Vizard,
+ironically. "I'll make the tour, and collar him."
+
+He went off in a hurry; Miss Maitland faced a glass and proceeded to
+arrange her curl.
+
+Fanny, though she had offered no opposition to Vizard's going, now seized
+Zoe's arm with unusual energy, and almost dragged her aside. "The idea of
+sending Harrington on that fool's errand!" said she, peevishly. "Why,
+Zoe! where are your eyes?"
+
+Zoe showed her by opening them wide. "What _do_ you mean?"
+
+"What--do--I--mean? No matter. Mr. Severne is not in this building, and
+you know it."
+
+"How can I know? All is so mysterious," faltered Zoe. "How do _you_
+know?"
+
+"Because--there--least said is soonest mended."
+
+"Fanny, you are older than me, and ever so much cleverer. Tell me, or you
+are not my friend."
+
+"Wait till you get home, then. Here he is."
+
+Vizard told them he had been through all the rooms; the only chance now
+was the dining-room. "No," said Fanny, "we wish to get home; we are
+rather tired."
+
+They went to the rail, and at first Vizard was rather talkative, making
+his comments on the players; but the ladies were taciturn, and brought
+him to a stand. "Ah," thought he, "nothing interests them now; Adonis is
+not here." So he retired within himself.
+
+When they reached the Russie, he ordered a _petit souper_ in an hour, and
+invited the ladies. Meantime they retired--Miss Maitland to her room, and
+Fanny, with Zoe, to hers. By this time Miss Dover had lost her alacrity,
+and would, I verily believe, have shunned a _te'te-'a-te'te_ if she
+could; but there was a slight paleness in Zoe's cheek, and a compression
+of the lips, which told her plainly that young lady meant to have it out
+with her. They both knew so well what was coming, that Zoe merely waved
+her to a chair and leaned herself against the bed, and said, "Now,
+Fanny." So Fanny was brought to bay.
+
+"Dear me," said she piteously, "I don't know what to do, between you and
+Aunt Maitland. If I say all I think, I suppose you will hate me; and if I
+don't, I shall be told I'm wicked, and don't warn an orphan girl. She
+flew at me like a bull-dog before your brother: she said I was
+twenty-five, and I only own to twenty-three. And, after all, what could I
+say? for I do feel I ought to give you the benefit of my experience, and
+make myself as disagreeable as _she_ does. And I _have_ given you a hint,
+and a pretty broad one, but you want such plain speaking."
+
+"I do," said Zoe. "So please speak plainly, if you can."
+
+"Ah, you _say_ that."
+
+"And I mean it. Never mind consequences; tell me the truth."
+
+"Like a man, eh? and get hated."
+
+"Men are well worth imitating, in some things. Tell me the truth,
+pleasant or not, and I shall always respect you."
+
+"Bother respect. I am like the rest of us; I want to be loved a little
+bit. But there--I'm in for it. I have said too much, or too little. I
+know that. Well, Zoe, the long and the short is--you have a rival."
+
+Zoe turned rather pale, but was not so much shaken as Fanny expected.
+
+She received the blow in silence. But after a while she said, with some
+firmness, "Mademoiselle Klosking?"
+
+"Oh, you are not quite blind, then."
+
+"And pray which does he prefer?" asked Zoe, a little proudly.
+
+"It is plain he likes you the best. But why does he fear her so? This is
+where you seem all in the dark. He flew out of the opera, lest she should
+see him."
+
+"Oh! Absurd!"
+
+"He cut you and Vizard, rather than call upon her with you."
+
+"And so he did."
+
+"He flew from the gambling-table the moment she entered the room."
+
+"Behind him. She came in behind him."
+
+"There was a large mirror in front of him."
+
+"Oh, Fanny! oh!" and Zoe clasped her hands piteously. But she recovered
+herself, and said, "After all, appearances are deceitful."
+
+"Not so deceitful as men," said Fanny, sharply.
+
+But Zoe clung to her straw. "Might not two things happen together? He is
+subject to bleeding at the nose. It is strange it should occur twice so,
+but it is possible."
+
+"Zoe," said Fanny, gravely, "he is not subject to bleeding at the nose."
+
+"Oh, _then_--but how can you know that? What right have you to say that?"
+
+"I'll show you," said Fanny, and left the room.
+
+She soon came back, holding something behind her back. Even at the last
+moment she was half unwilling. However, she looked down, and said, in a
+very peculiar tone, "Here is the handkerchief he put before his face at
+the opera; there!" and she threw it into Zoe's lap.
+
+Zoe's nature revolted against evidence so obtained. She did not even take
+up the handkerchief. "What!" she cried; "you took it out of his pocket?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then you have been in his room and got it."
+
+_"Nothing of the kind!_ I sent Rosa."
+
+"My maid!"
+
+"Mine, for that job. I gave her half a crown to borrow it for a pattern."
+
+Zoe seized the handkerchief and ran her eye over it in a moment. There
+was no trace of blood on it, and there were his initials, "E. S.," in the
+corner. Her woman's eye fastened instantly on these. "Silk?" said she,
+and held it up to the light. "No. Hair!--golden hair. It is _hers!"_ And
+she flung the handkerchief from her as if it were a viper, and even when
+on the ground eyed it with dilating orbs and a hostile horror.
+
+"La!" said Fanny; "fancy that! You are not blind now. You have seen more
+than I. I made sure it was yellow silk."
+
+But this frivolous speech never even entered Zoe's ear. She was too
+deeply shocked. She went, feebly, and sat down in a chair, and covered
+her face with her hands.
+
+Fanny eyed her with pity. "There!" said she, almost crying, "I never tell
+the truth but I bitterly repent it."
+
+Zoe took no notice of this droll apothegm. Her hands began to work. "What
+shall I do!" she said. "What shall I do!"
+
+"Oh, don't go on like that, Zoe!" cried Fanny. "After all, it is you he
+prefers. He ran away from her."
+
+"Ah, yes. But why?--why? What has he done?"
+
+"Jilted her. I suppose. Aunt Maitland thinks he is after money; and, you
+know, you have got money."
+
+"Have I nothing else?" said the proud beauty, and lifted her bowed head
+for a moment.
+
+"You have everything. But you should look things in the face. Is that
+singer an unattractive woman?"
+
+"Oh, no. But she is not poor. Her kind of talent is paid enormously."
+
+"That is true," said Fanny. "But perhaps she wastes it. She is a gambler,
+like himself."
+
+"Let him go to her," said Zoe, wildly; "I will share no man's heart."
+
+"He will never go to her, unless--well, unless we tell him that she has
+broken the bank with his money."
+
+"If you think so badly of him, tell him, then, and let him go. Oh, I am
+wretched--I am wretched!" She lifted her hands in despair, and began to
+cry and sob bitterly.
+
+Fanny was melted at her distress, and knelt to her, and cried with her.
+
+Not being a girl of steady principle, she went round with the wind. "Dear
+Zoe," said she, "it is deeper than I thought. La! if you love him, why
+torment yourself?"
+
+"No," said Zoe; "it is deceit and mystery that torment me. Oh, what shall
+I do! what shall I do!"
+
+Fanny interpreted this vague exclamation of sorrow as asking advice, and
+said, "I dare not advise you; I can only tell you what I should do in
+your place. I should make up my mind at once whether I loved the man, or
+only liked him. If I only liked him, I would turn him up at once."
+
+"Turn him up! What is that?"
+
+"Turn him off, then. If I loved him, I would not let any other woman have
+the least little bit of a chance to get him. For instance, I would not
+let him know this old sweetheart of his has won three thousand pounds at
+least, for I noted her winnings. Diamond cut diamond, my dear. He is
+concealing from you something or other about him and this Klosking; hide
+you this one little thing about the Klosking from him, till you get my
+gentleman safe to England."
+
+"And this is love! I call it warfare."
+
+"And love is warfare, three times out of four. Anyway, it is for you to
+decide, Zoe. I do wish you had never seen the man. He is not what he
+seems. He is a poor adventurer, and a bundle of deceit."
+
+"You are very hard on him. You don't know all."
+
+"No, nor a quarter; and you know less. There, dear, dry your eyes and
+fight against it. After all, you know you are mistress of the situation.
+I'll settle it for you, which way you like."
+
+"You will? Oh, Fanny, you are very good!"
+
+"Say indulgent, please. I'm not good, and never will be, if _I can
+possibly help._ I despise good people; they are as weak as water. But I
+do like you, Zoe Vizard, better than any other woman in the world. That
+is not saying very much; my taste is for men. I think them gods and
+devils compared with us; and I do admire gods and devils. No matter,
+dear. Kiss me, and say, 'Fanny, act for me,' and I'll do it."
+
+Zoe kissed her, and then, by a truly virginal impulse, hid her burning
+face in her hands, and said nothing at all.
+
+Fanny gave her plenty of time, and then said, kindly, "Well, dear?"
+
+Then Zoe murmured, scarce audibly, "Act--_as if_--I loved him."
+
+And still she kept her face covered with her hands. Fanny was anything
+but surprised at this conclusion of the struggle. She said, with a
+certain alacrity, "Very well, I will: so now bathe your eyes and come in
+to supper."
+
+"No, no; please go and make an excuse for me."
+
+"I shall do nothing of the kind. I won't be told by-and-by I have done
+wrong. I will do your business, but it shall be in your hearing. Then you
+can interfere, if you choose. Only you had better not put your word in
+till you see what I am driving at."
+
+With a little more encouragement, Zoe was prevailed on to sponge her
+tearful eyes and compose herself, and join Harrington at supper.
+
+Miss Maitland soon retired, pleading fatigue and packing; and she had not
+been gone long, when Fanny gave her friend a glance and began upon
+Harrington.
+
+"You are very fond of Mr. Severne, are you not?" said she.
+
+"I am," said Vizard, stoutly, preparing for battle. "You are not,
+perhaps."
+
+Fanny laughed at this prompt pugnacity. "Oh, yes, I am," said she;
+"devoted. But he has a weakness, you must own. He is rather fond of
+gambling."
+
+"He is, I am sorry to say. It is his one fault. Most of us have two or
+three."
+
+"Don't you think it would be a pity if he were to refuse to go with us
+tomorrow--were to prefer to stay here and gamble?"
+
+"No fear of that: he has given me his word of honor."
+
+"Still, I think it would be hardly safe to tempt him. If you go and tell
+him that friend of his won such a lot of money, he will want to stop; and
+if he does not stop, he will go away miserable. You know they began
+betting with his money, though they went on with their own."
+
+"Oh, did they? What was his own money?"
+
+"How much was it, Zoe?"
+
+"Fifty pounds."
+
+"Well," said Vizard, "you must admit it is hard he should lose his own
+money. And yet I own I am most anxious to get him away from this place.
+Indeed, I have a project; I want him to rusticate a few months at our
+place, while I set my lawyer to look into his affairs and see if his
+estate cannot be cleared. I'll be bound the farms are underlet. What does
+the Admirable Crichton know about such trifles?"
+
+Fanny looked at Zoe, whose color was rising high at all this. "Well!"
+said she, "when you gentlemen fall in love _with each other,_ you
+certainly are faithful creatures."
+
+"Because we can count on fidelity in return," said Vizard. He thought a
+little, and said, "Well, as to the other thing--you leave it to me. Let
+us understand one another. Nothing we saw at the gambling-table is to be
+mentioned by us."
+
+"No."
+
+"Crichton is to be taken to England for his good."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And I am to be grateful to you for your co-operation in this."
+
+"You can, if you like."
+
+"And you will secure an agreeable companion for the rest of the tour,
+eh?--my diplomatic cousin and my silent sister."
+
+"Yes; but it is too bad of you to see through a poor girl, and her little
+game, like that. I own he is a charming companion."
+
+Fanny's cunning eyes twinkled, and Zoe blushed crimson to see her noble
+brother manipulated by this artful minx and then flattered for his
+perspicacity.
+
+From that moment a revulsion took place in her mind, and pride fought
+furiously with love--for a time.
+
+This was soon made apparent to Fanny Dover. When they retired, Zoe looked
+very gloomy; so Fanny asked, rather sharply, "Well, what is the matter
+now? Didn't I do it cleverly?"
+
+"Yes, yes, too cleverly. Oh, Fanny, I begin to revolt against myself."
+
+"This is nice!" said Fanny. "Go on, dear. It is just what I ought to have
+expected. You were there. You had only to interfere. You didn't. And now
+you are discontented."
+
+"Not with you. Spare me. You are not to blame, and I am very unhappy. I
+am losing my self-respect. Oh, if this goes on, I shall hate him!"
+
+"Yes, dear--for five minutes, and then love him double. Come, don't
+deceive yourself, and don't torment yourself. All your trouble, we shall
+leave it behind us to-morrow, and every hour will take us further from
+it."
+
+With this practical view of matters, she kissed Zoe and hurried to bed.
+
+But Zoe scarcely closed her eyes all night.
+
+Severne did not reach the hotel till past eleven o'clock, and went
+straight to his own room.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+ASHMEAD accompanied Mademoiselle Klosking to her apartment. It was
+lighted, and the cloth laid for supper under the chandelier, a snow-white
+Hamburg damask. Ashmead took the winnings out of his pocket, and proudly
+piled the gold and crumpled notes in one prodigious mass upon the linen,
+that shone like satin, and made the gold look doubly inviting. Then he
+drew back and gloated on it. The Klosking, too, stood and eyed the pile
+of wealth with amazement and a certain reverence. "Let me count it," said
+Ashmead. He did so, and it came to four thousand nine hundred and
+eighty-one pounds, English money. "And to think," said he, "if you had
+taken my advice you would not have a penny of this!"
+
+"I'll take your advice now," said she. "I will never gamble again."
+
+"Well, take my advice, and lock up the swag before a creature sees it.
+Homburg is full of thieves."
+
+She complied, and took away the money in a napkin.
+
+Ashmead called after her to know might he order supper.
+
+"If you will be so kind."
+
+Ashmead rejoiced at this unguarded permission, and ordered a supper that
+made Karl stare.
+
+The Klosking returned in about half an hour, clad in a crisp _peignoir._
+
+Ashmead confronted her. "I have ordered a bottle of champagne," said he.
+Her answer surprised him. "You have done well. We must now begin to prove
+the truth of the old proverb, 'Ce qui vient de la flute s'en va au
+tambour.'"
+
+At supper Mr. Ashmead was the chief drinker, and, by a natural
+consequence, the chief speaker: he held out brilliant prospects; he
+favored the Klosking with a discourse on advertising. No talent availed
+without it; large posters, pictures, window-cards, etc.; but as her
+talent was superlative, he must now endeavor to keep up with it by
+invention in his line--the puff circumstantial, the puff poetic, the puff
+anecdotal, the puff controversial, all tending to blow the fame of the
+Klosking in every eye, and ring it in every ear. "You take my advice,"
+said he, "and devote this money, every penny of it, to Publicity. Don't
+you touch a single shiner for anything that does not return a hundred per
+cent. Publicity does, when the article is prime."
+
+"You forget," said she, "this money does not all belong to me. Another
+can claim half; the gentleman with whom we are in partnership."
+
+Ashmead looked literally blue. "Nonsense!" said he, roughly. "He can only
+claim his fifty pounds."
+
+"Nay, my friend. I took two equal sums: one was his, one mine."
+
+"That has nothing to do with it. He told me to bet for him. I didn't; and
+I shall take him back his fifty pounds and say so. I know where to find
+him."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"That is my business. Don't you go mad now, and break my heart."
+
+"Well, my friend, we will talk of it tomorrow morning. It certainly is
+not very clear; and perhaps, after I have prayed and slept, I may see
+more plainly what is right."
+
+Ashmead observed she was pale, and asked her, with concern, if she was
+ill.
+
+"No, not ill," said she, "but worn out. My friend, I knew not at the time
+how great was my excitement; but now I am conscious that this afternoon I
+have lived a week. My very knees give way under me."
+
+Upon this admission, Ashmead hurried her to bed.
+
+She slept soundly for some hours; but, having once awakened, she fell
+into a half-sleepless state, and was full of dreams and fancies. These
+preyed on her so, that she rose and dispatched a servant to Ashmead, with
+a line in pencil begging him to take an early breakfast with her, at nine
+o'clock.
+
+As soon as ever he came she began upon the topic of last night. She had
+thought it over, and said, frankly, she was not without hopes the
+gentleman, if he was really a gentleman, might be contented with
+something less than half. But she really did not see how she could refuse
+him some share of her winnings, should he demand it. "Think of it," said
+she. "The poor man loses--four hundred pounds, I think you said. Then he
+says, 'Bet you for me,' and goes away, trusting to your honor. His luck
+changes in my hands. Is he to lose all when he loses, and win nothing
+when he wins, merely because I am so fortunate as to win much? However,
+we shall hear what _he_ says. You gave him your address."
+
+"I said I was at 'The Golden Star,'" growled Ashmead, in a tone that
+plainly showed he was vexed with himself for being so communicative.
+
+"Then he will pay us a visit as soon as he hears: so I need give myself
+no further trouble."
+
+"Why should you? Wait till he comes," said crafty Ashmead.
+
+Ina Klosking colored. She felt her friend was tempting her, and felt she
+was not quite beyond the power of temptation.
+
+"What was he like?" said she, to turn the conversation.
+
+"The handsomest young fellow I ever saw."
+
+"Young, of course?"
+
+"Yes, quite a boy. At least, he looked a boy. To be sure, his talk was
+not like a boy's; very precocious, I should say."
+
+"What a pity, to begin gambling so young!"
+
+"Oh, he is all right. If he loses every farthing of his own, he will
+marry money. Any woman would have him. You never saw such a curled
+darling."
+
+"Dark or fair?"
+
+"Fair. Pink-and-white, like a girl; a hand like a lady."
+
+"Indeed. Fine eyes?"
+
+"Splendid!"
+
+"What color?"
+
+"I don't know. Lord bless you, a man does not examine another man's eyes,
+like you ladies. However, now I think of it, there was one curious thing
+I should know him by anywhere."
+
+"And what was that?"
+
+"Well, you see, his hair was brown; but just above the forehead he had
+got one lock that was like your own--gold itself."
+
+While he said this, the Klosking's face underwent the most rapid and
+striking changes, and at last she sat looking at him wildly.
+
+It was some time before he noticed her, and then he was quite alarmed at
+her strange expression. "What is the matter?" said he. "Are you ill?"
+
+"No, no, no. Only a little--astonished. Such a thing as that is very
+rare."
+
+"That it is. I never saw a case before."
+
+"Not one, in all your life?" asked she, eagerly.
+
+"Well, no; not that I remember."
+
+"Excuse me a minute," said Ina Klosking, and went hurriedly from the
+room.
+
+Ashmead thought her manner very strange, but concluded she was a little
+unhinged by yesterday's excitement. Moreover, there faced him an omelet
+of enormous size, and savory. He thought this worthy to divide a man's
+attention even with the great creature's tantrums. He devoted himself to
+it, and it occupied him so agreeably that he did not observe the conduct
+of Mademoiselle Klosking on her return. She placed three photographs
+softly on the table, not very far from him, and then resumed her seat;
+but her eye never left him: and she gave monosyllabic and almost
+impatient replies to everything he mumbled with his mouth full of omelet.
+
+When he had done his omelet, he noticed the photographs. They were all
+colored. He took one up. It was an elderly woman, sweet, venerable, and
+fair-haired. He looked at Ina, and at the photograph, and said, "This is
+your mother."
+
+"It is."
+
+"It is angelic--as might be expected."
+
+He took up another.
+
+"This is your brother, I suppose. Stop. Haloo!--what is this? Are my eyes
+making a fool of me?"
+
+He held out the photograph at arm's length, and stared from it to her.
+"Why, madam," said he, in an awestruck voice, "this is the gentleman--the
+player--I'd swear to him."
+
+Ina started from her seat while he spoke. "Ah!" she cried, "I thought
+so--my Edward!" and sat down, trembling violently.
+
+Ashmead ran to her, and sprinkled water in her face, for she seemed ready
+to faint: but she murmured, "No, no!" and soon the color rushed into her
+face, and she clasped her hands together, and cried, "I have found him!"
+and soon the storm of varying emotions ended in tears that gave her
+relief.
+
+It was a long time before she spoke; but when she did, her spirit and her
+natural strength of character took the upper hand.
+
+"Where is he?" said she, firmly.
+
+"He told me he was at the 'Russie.'"
+
+"We will go there at once. When is the next train?"
+
+Ashmead looked at his watch. "In ten minutes. We can hardly do it."
+
+"Yes, we can. Order a carriage this instant. I will be ready in one
+minute."
+
+They caught the train, and started.
+
+As they glided along, Ashmead begged her not to act too hurriedly, and
+expose herself to insult.
+
+"Who will dare insult me?"
+
+"Nobody, I hope. Still, I cannot bear you to go into a strange hotel
+hunting this man. It is monstrous; but I am afraid you will not be
+welcome. Something has just occurred to me; the reason he ran off so
+suddenly was, he saw you coming. There was a mirror opposite. Ah, we need
+not have feared he would come back for his winnings. Idiot--villain!"
+
+"You stab me to the heart," said Ina. "He ran away at sight of me? Ah,
+Jesu, pity me! What have I done to him?"
+
+Honest Ashmead had much ado not to blubber at this patient cry of
+anguish, though the woman herself shed no tear just then. But his
+judgment was undimmed by passion, and he gave her the benefit. "Take my
+advice," said he, "and work it this way. Come in a close carriage to the
+side street that is nearest the Russie. I'll go in to the hotel and ask
+for him by his name--what is his name?"
+
+"Mr. Edward Severne."
+
+"And say that I was afraid to stake his money, but a friend of mine, that
+is a bold player, undertook it, and had a great run of luck. 'There is
+money owing you,' says I, 'and my friend has brought it.' Then he is sure
+to come. You will have your veil down, I'll open the carriage-door, and
+tell him to jump in, and, when you have got him you must make him hear
+reason. I'll give you a good chance--I'll shut the carriage-door."
+
+Ina smiled at his ingenuity--her first smile that day. "You are indeed a
+friend," said she. "He fears reproaches, but, when he finds he is
+welcome, he will stay with me; and he shall have money to play with, and
+amuse himself how he likes. I kept too tight a rein on him, poor fellow!
+My good mother taught me prudence."
+
+"Yes, but," said Ashmead, "you must promise me one thing: not to let him
+know how much money you have won, and not to go, like a goose, and give
+him a lot at once. It never pays to part with power in this wicked world.
+You give him twenty pounds a day to play with whenever he is cleaned out.
+Then the money will last your time, and he will never leave you."
+
+"Oh, how cold-hearted and wise you are!" said she. "But such a
+humiliating position for _him!"_
+
+"Don't you be silly. You won't keep him any other way."
+
+"I will be as wise as I can," sighed Ina. "I have had a bitter lesson.
+Only bring him to me, and then, who knows? I am a change: my love may
+revive his, and none of these pitiable precautions may be needed. They
+would lower us both."
+
+Ashmead groaned aloud. "I see," said he. "He'll soon clean you out. Ah,
+well! he can't rob you of your voice, and he can't rob you of your
+Ashmead."
+
+They soon reached Frankfort. Ashmead put her into a carriage as agreed,
+and went to the Russie.
+
+Ina sat, with her veil down, in the carriage, and waited Ashmead's return
+with Severne. He was a long time coming. She began to doubt, and then to
+fear, and wonder why he was so long.
+
+At last he came in sight.
+
+He was alone.
+
+As he drew nearer she saw his face was thoroughly downcast.
+
+"My dear friend," he faltered, "you are out of luck to-day."
+
+"He will not come with you?"
+
+"Oh, he would come fast enough, if he was there; but he is gone."
+
+"Gone! To Homburg?"
+
+"No. Unfortunately, he is gone to England. Went off, by the fast train,
+an hour ago."
+
+Ina fell back in silence, just as if she had been struck in the face.
+
+"He is traveling with an English family, and they have gone straight
+home. Here are their names. I looked in the visitors' book, and talked to
+the servant, and all. Mr. Vizard, Miss Vizard--"
+
+"Vizard?"
+
+"Yes--Miss Maitland, Miss Dover. See, I wrote them all down."
+
+"Oh, I am unfortunate! Why was I ever born?"
+
+"Don't say that, don't say that. It is annoying: but we shall be able to
+trace him now; and, besides, I see other ways of getting hold of him."
+
+Ina broke in upon his talk. "Take me to the nearest church," she cried.
+"Man's words are vain. Ah, Jesu, let me cry to thee!"
+
+He took her to the nearest church. She went in, and prayed for full two
+hours. She came out, pale and listless, and Ashmead got her home how he
+could. Her very body seemed all crushed and limp. Ashmead left her, sad
+at heart himself.
+
+So long as she was in sight Ashmead could think only of her misery: but
+the moment she was out of sight, he remembered the theater. She was
+announced for Rosina that very night. He saw trouble of all sorts before
+him. He ran to the theater, in great alarm, and told the manager she had
+been taken very ill. He must change the bill.
+
+"Impossible!" was the reply. "If she can't sing, I close."
+
+Ashmead went back to "The Star."
+
+Ina was in her bedroom.
+
+He sent in a line, "Can you sing tonight? If not he says he must close."
+
+The reply came back in rather a trembling hand. "I suffer too much by
+falsehood to break faith myself. I shall pray till night: and then I
+shall sing. If I die on the stage, all the better for me."
+
+Was not this a great soul?
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THAT same morning our English party snatched a hasty breakfast in
+traveling attire. Severne was not there; but sent word to Vizard he
+should be there in time.
+
+This filled the cup. Zoe's wounded pride had been rising higher and
+higher all the night, and she came down rather pale, from broken rest,
+and sternly resolved. She had a few serious words with Fanny, and
+sketched her out a little map of conduct, which showed that she had
+thought the matter well over.
+
+But her plan bid fair to be deranged: Severne was not at the station:
+then came a change. Zoe was restless, and cast anxious glances.
+
+But at the second bell he darted into the carriage, as if he had just
+dispatched some wonderful business to get there in time. While the train
+was starting, he busied himself in arranging his things; but, once
+started, he put on his sunny look and prepared to be, as usual, the life
+and soul of the party.
+
+But, for once, he met a frost. Zoe was wrapped in impenetrable _hauteur,_
+and Fanny in polite indifference. Never was loss of favor more ably
+marked without the least ill-breeding, and no good handle given to seek
+an explanation.
+
+No doubt a straightforward man, with justice on his side, would have
+asked them plumply whether he had been so unfortunate as to offend, and
+how; and this was what Zoe secretly wished, however she might seem to
+repel it. But Severne was too crafty for that. He had learned the art of
+waiting.
+
+After a few efforts at conversation and smooth rebuffs, he put on a
+surprised, mortified, and sorrowful air, and awaited the attack, which he
+felt would come soon or late.
+
+This skillful inertia baffled the fair, in a man; in a woman, they might
+have expected it; and, after a few hours, Zoe's patience began to wear
+out.
+
+The train stopped for twenty minutes, and, even while they were snatching
+a little refreshment, the dark locks and the blonde came very close
+together; and Zoe, exasperated by her own wounded pride and the sullen
+torpor of her lover, gave Fanny fresh instructions, which nobody was
+better qualified to carry out than that young lady, as nobody was better
+able to baffle female strategy than the gentleman.
+
+This time, however, the ladies had certain advantages, to balance his
+subtlety and his habit of stating anything, true or false, that suited
+his immediate purpose.
+
+They opened very cat-like. Fanny affected to be outgrowing her ill-humor,
+and volunteered a civil word or two to Severne. Thereupon Zoe turned
+sharply away from Fanny, as if she disapproved her conduct, and took a
+book. This was pretty sly, and done, I suppose, to remove all idea of
+concert between the fair assailants; whereas it was a secret signal for
+the concert to come into operation, it being Fanny's part to play upon
+Severne, and Zoe's to watch, from her corner, every lineament of his face
+under fire.
+
+"By-the-way, Mr. Severne," said Fanny, apropos of a church on a hill they
+were admiring, "did you get your winnings?"
+
+"My winnings! You are sarcastical."
+
+"Am I? Really I did not intend to be."
+
+"No, no; forgive me; but that did seem a little cruel. Miss Dover, I was
+a heavy loser."
+
+"Not while we were there. The lady and gentleman who played with your
+money won, oh, such a deal!"
+
+"The devil they did!"
+
+"Yes. Did you not stay behind, last night, to get it? We never saw you at
+the Russie."
+
+"I was very ill."
+
+"Bleeding at the nose?"
+
+"No. That always relieves me when it comes. I am subject to fainting
+fits: once I lay insensible so long they were going to bury me. Now, do
+pray tell me what makes you fancy anybody won a lot with my money."
+
+"Well, I will. You know you left fifty pounds for a friend to bet with."
+
+Severne stared; but was too eager for information to question her how she
+knew this. "Yes, I did," said he.
+
+"And you really don't know what followed?"
+
+"Good heavens! how can I?"
+
+"Well, then, as you ran out--to faint, Mademoiselle Klosking came in,
+just as she did at the opera, you know, the time before, when you ran
+out--to bleed. She slipped into your chair, the very moment you left it;
+and your friend with the flaming neck-tie told her you had set him to bet
+with your money. By-the-by, Mr. Severne, how on earth do you and
+Mademoiselle Klosking, who have both so much taste in dress, come to have
+a mutual friend, vulgarity in person, with a velveteen coat and an
+impossible neck-tie?"
+
+"What are you talking about, Miss Dover? I do just know Mademoiselle
+Klosking; I met her in society in Vienna, two years ago: but that cad I
+commissioned to bet for me I never saw before in my life. You are keeping
+me on tenter-hooks. My money--my money--my money! If you have a heart in
+your bosom, tell me what became of my money."
+
+He was violent, for the first time since they had known him, and his eyes
+flashed fire.
+
+"Well," said Fanny, beginning to be puzzled and rather frightened, "this
+man, who you _say_ was a new acquaintance--"
+
+"Whom I _say?_ Do you mean to tell me I am a liar?" He fumbled eagerly in
+his breast-pocket, and produced a card. "There," said he, "this is the
+card he gave me, 'Mr. Joseph Ashmead.' Now, may this train dash over the
+next viaduct, and take you and Miss Vizard to heaven, and me to hell, if
+I ever saw Mr. Joseph Ashmead's face before. THE MONEY!--THE MONEY!"
+
+He uttered this furiously, and, it is a curious fact; but Zoe turned red,
+and Fanny pale. It was really in quite a cowed voice Miss Dover went on
+to say, "La! don't fly out like that. Well, then, the man refused to bet
+with your money; so then Mademoiselle Klosking said she would; and she
+played--oh, how she did play! She doubled, and doubled, and doubled,
+hundreds upon hundreds. She made a mountain of gold and a pyramid of
+bank-notes; and she never stopped till she broke the bank--there!"
+
+"With my money?" gasped Severne.
+
+"Yes; with your money. Your friend with the loud tie pocketed it; I beg
+your pardon, not your friend--only hers. Harrington says he is her _cher
+ami."_
+
+"The money is mine!" he shrieked. "I don't care who played with it, it is
+mine. And the fellow had the impudence to send me back my fifty pounds to
+the Russie."
+
+"What! you gave him your address?" this with an involuntary glance of
+surprise at Zoe.
+
+"Of course. Do you think I leave a man fifty pounds to play with, and
+don't give him my address? He has won thousands with my money, and sent
+me back my fifty, for a blind, the thief!"
+
+"Well, really it is too bad," said Fanny. "But, there--I'm afraid you
+must make the best of it. Of course, their sending back your fifty pounds
+shows they mean to keep their winnings."
+
+"You talk like a woman," said he; then, grinding his teeth, and
+stretching out a long muscular arm, he said, "I'll take the blackguard by
+the throat and tear it out of him, though I tear his life out along with
+it."
+
+All this time Zoe had been looking at him with concern, and even with
+admiration. He seemed more beautiful than ever, to her, under the
+influence of passion, and more of a man.
+
+"Mr. Severne," said she, "be calm. Fanny has misled you, without
+intending it. She did not hear all that passed between those two; I did.
+The velveteen and neck-tie man refused to bet with your money. It was
+Mademoiselle Klosking who bet, and with her own money. She took
+twenty-five pounds of her own, and twenty-five pounds of yours, and won
+two or three hundred in a few moments. Surely, as a gentleman, you cannot
+ask a lady to do more than repay you your twenty-five pounds."
+
+Severne was a little cowed by Zoe' s interference. He stood his ground;
+but sullenly, instead of violently.
+
+"Miss Vizard, if I were weak enough to trust a lady with my money at a
+gambling table, I should expect foul play; for I never knew a lady yet
+who would not cheat _at cards,_ if she could. I trusted my money to a
+tradesman to bet with. If he takes a female partner, that is no business
+of mine; he is responsible all the same, and I'll have my money."
+
+He jumped up at the word, and looked out at the window; he even fumbled
+with the door, and tried to open it.
+
+"You had better jump out," said Fanny.
+
+"And then they would keep my money for good. No;" said he, "I'll wait for
+the nearest station." He sunk back into his seat, looking unutterable
+things.
+
+Fanny looked rather rueful at first; then she said, spitefully, "You must
+be very sure of your influence with your old sweetheart. You forget she
+has got another now--a tradesman, too. He will stick to the money, and
+make her stick to it. Their sending the fifty pounds shows that."
+
+Zoe's eyes were on him with microscopic power, and, with all his
+self-command, she saw him wince and change color, and give other signs
+that this shaft had told in many ways.
+
+He shut his countenance the next moment; but it had opened, and Zoe was
+on fire with jealousy and suspicion.
+
+Fluctuating Fanny regretted the turn things had taken. She did not want
+to lose a pleasant male companion, and she felt sure Zoe would be
+unhappy, and cross to her, if he went. "Surely, Mr. Severne," she said,
+"you will not desert us and go back for so small a chance. Why, we are a
+hundred and fifty miles from Homburg, and all the nearer to dear old
+England. There, there--we must be kinder to you, and make you forget this
+misfortune."
+
+Thus spoke the trimmer. The reply took her by surprise.
+
+"And whose fault is it that I am obliged to get out a hundred and fifty
+miles from Homburg? You knew all this. You could have got me a delay of a
+few hours to go and get my due. You know I am a poor man. With all your
+cleverness, you don't know what made me poor, or you would feel some
+remorse, perhaps; but you know I am poor when most I could wish I were
+rich. You have heard that old woman there fling my poverty in my teeth;
+yet you could keep this from me--just to assist a cheat and play upon the
+feelings of a friend. Now, what good has that done you, to inflict misery
+on me in sport, on a man who never gave you a moment's pain if he could
+help it?"
+
+Fanny looked ruefully this way and that, her face began to work, and she
+laid down her arms, if a lady can be said to do that who lays down a
+strong weapon and takes up a stronger; in other words, she burst out
+crying, and said no more. You see, she was poor herself.
+
+Severne took no notice of her; he was accustomed to make women cry. He
+thrust his head out of the window in hopes of seeing a station near, and
+his whole being was restless as if he would like to jump out.
+
+While he was in this condition of mind and body, the hand he had once
+kissed so tenderly, and shocked Miss Maitland, passed an envelope over
+his shoulder, with two lines written on it in pencil:
+
+"If you GO BACK TO HOMBURG, oblige ME BY REMAINING there."
+
+
+This demands an explanation; but it shall be brief.
+
+Fanny's shrewd hint, that the money could only be obtained from Mdlle.
+Klosking, had pierced Zoe through and through. Her mind grasped all that
+had happened, all that impended, and, wisely declining to try and account
+for, or reconcile, all the jarring details, she settled, with a woman's
+broad instinct, that, somehow or other, his going back to Homburg meant
+going back to Mademoiselle Klosking. Whether that lady would buy him or
+not, she did not know. But going back to her meant going a journey to see
+a rival, with consequences illimitable.
+
+She had courage; she had pride; she had jealousy. She resolved to lose
+her lover, or have him all to herself. Share him she would not, nor even
+endure the torture of the doubt.
+
+She took an envelope out of her satchel, and with the pencil attached to
+her chatelaine wrote the fatal words, "If you go back to Homburg, oblige
+me by remaining there."
+
+At this moment she was not goaded by pique or any petty feeling. Indeed,
+his reproach to Fanny had touched her a little, and it was with the tear
+in her eye she came to the resolution, and handed him that line, which
+told him she knew her value, and, cost what it might, would part with any
+man forever rather than share him with the Klosking or any other woman.
+
+Severne took the line, eyed it, realized it, fell back from the window,
+and dropped into his seat. This gave Zoe a consoling sense of power. She
+had seen her lover raging and restless, and wanting to jump out, yet now
+beheld him literally felled with a word from her hand.
+
+He leaned his head in his hand in a sort of broken-down, collapsed,
+dogged way that moved her pity, though hardly her respect.
+
+By-and-by it struck her as a very grave thing that he did not reply by
+word, nor even by look. He could decide with a glance, and why did he
+hesitate? Was he really balancing her against Mademoiselle Klosking
+weighted with a share of his winnings?
+
+This doubt was wormwood to her pride and self-respect; but his crushed
+attitude allayed in some degree the mere irritation his doubt caused.
+
+The minutes passed and the miles: still that broken figure sat before
+her, with his face hidden by his white hand.
+
+Zoe's courage began to falter. Misgivings seized her. She had made that a
+matter of love which, after all, to a man, might be a mere matter of
+business. He was poor, too, and she had thrust her jealousy between him
+and money. He might have his pride too, and rebel against her affront.
+
+As for his thoughts, under that crushed exterior, which he put on for a
+blind, they were so deliberate and calculating that I shall not mix them
+on this page with that pure and generous creature's. Another time will do
+to reveal his sordid arithmetic. As for Zoe, she settled down into
+wishing, with all her heart, she had not submitted her lover so
+imperiously to a test, the severity of which she now saw she had
+underrated.
+
+Presently the speed of the train began to slacken--all too soon. She now
+dreaded to learn her fate. Was she, or was she not, worth a few thousand
+pounds ready money?
+
+A signal-post was past, proving that they were about to enter a station.
+Yet another. Now the wheels were hardly turning. Now the platform was
+visible. Yet he never moved his white, delicate, womanish fingers from
+his forehead, but remained still absorbed, and looked undecided.
+
+At last the motion entirely ceased. Then, as she turned her head to
+glean, if possible, the name of the place, he stole a furtive glance at
+her. She was pallid, agitated. He resolved upon his course.
+
+As soon as the train stopped, he opened the door and jumped out, without
+a word to Zoe, or even a look.
+
+Zoe turned pale as death. "I have lost him," said she.
+
+"No, no," cried Fanny. "See, he has not taken his cane and umbrella."
+
+_"They_ will not keep him from flying to his money and her," moaned Zoe.
+"Did you not see? He never once looked at me. He could not. I am sick at
+heart."
+
+This set Fanny fluttering. "There, let me out to speak to him."
+
+"Sit quiet," said Zoe, sternly.
+
+"No; no. If you love him--"
+
+"I do love him--passionately. And _therefore_ I'll die rather than share
+him with any one."
+
+"But it is dreadful to be fixed here, and not allowed to move hand or
+foot."
+
+"It is the lot of women. Let me feel the hand of a friend, that is all;
+for I am sick at heart."
+
+Fanny gave her her hand, and all the sympathy her shallow nature had to
+bestow.
+
+Zoe sat motionless, gripping her friend's hand almost convulsively, a
+statue of female fortitude.
+
+This suspense could not last long. The officials ordered the travelers to
+the carriages; doors were opened and slammed; the engine gave a snort,
+and only at that moment did Mr. Edward Severne tear the door open and
+bolt into the carriage.
+
+Oh, it was pitiable, but lovely, to see the blood rush into Zoe's face,
+and the fire into her eye, and the sweet mouth expand in a smile of joy
+and triumph!
+
+She sat a moment, almost paralyzed with pleasure, and then cast her eyes
+down, lest their fire should proclaim her feelings too plainly.
+
+As for Severne, he only glanced at her as he came in, and then shunned
+her eye. He presented to her the grave, resolved countenance of a man who
+has been forced to a decision, but means to abide by it.
+
+In reality he was delighted at the turn things had taken. The money was
+not necessarily lost, since he knew where it was; and Zoe had compromised
+herself beyond retreating. He intended to wear this anxious face a long
+while. But his artificial snow had to melt, so real a sun shone full on
+it. The moment he looked full at Zoe, she repaid him with such a
+point-blank beam of glorious tenderness and gratitude as made him thrill
+with passion as well as triumph. He felt her whole heart was his, and
+from that hour his poverty would never be allowed to weigh with her. He
+cleared up, and left off acting, because it was superfluous; he had now
+only to bask in sunshine. Zoe, always tender, but coy till this moment,
+made love to him like a young goddess. Even Fanny yielded to the solid
+proof of sincerity he had given, and was downright affectionate.
+
+He was king. And from one gradation to another, they entered Cologne with
+Severne seated between the two girls, each with a hand in his, and a
+great disposition to pet him and spoil him; more than once, indeed, a
+delicate head just grazed each of his square shoulders; but candor
+compels me to own that their fatigue and the yawing of the carriage at
+the time were more to blame than the tired girls; for at the enormity
+there was a prompt retirement to a distance. Miss Maitland had been a
+long time in the land of Nod; and Vizard, from the first, had preferred
+male companions and tobacco.
+
+At Cologne they visited the pride of Germany, that mighty cathedral which
+the Middle Ages projected, commenced, and left to decay of old age before
+completion, and our enterprising age will finish; but they departed on
+the same day.
+
+Before they reached England, the love-making between Severne and Zoe,
+though it never passed the bounds of good taste, was so apparent to any
+female eye that Miss Maitland remonstrated severely with Fanny.
+
+But the trimmer was now won to the other side. She would not offend Aunt
+Maitland by owning her conversion. She said, hypocritically, "I am afraid
+it is no use objecting at present, aunt. The attachment is too strong on
+both sides. And, whether he is poor or not, he has sacrificed his money
+to her feelings, and so, now, she feels bound in honor. I know her; she
+won't listen to a word now, aunt: why irritate her? She would quarrel
+with both of us in a moment."
+
+"Poor girl!" said Miss Maitland; and took the hint. She had still an
+arrow in her quiver--Vizard.
+
+In mid-channel, ten miles south of Dover, she caught him in a lucid
+interval of non-smoke. She reminded, him he had promised her to give Mr.
+Severne a hint about Zoe.
+
+"So I did," said he.
+
+"And have you?"
+
+"Well, no; to tell the truth, I forgot."
+
+"Then please do it now; for they are going on worse than ever."
+
+"I'll warn the fool," said he.
+
+He did warn him, and in the following terms:
+
+"Look here, old fellow. I hear you are getting awfully sweet on my sister
+Zoe."
+
+No answer. Severne on his guard.
+
+"Now, you had better mind your eye. She is a very pretty girl, and you
+may find yourself entangled before you know where you are."
+
+Severne hung his head. "Of course, I know it is great presumption in me."
+
+"Presumption? fiddlestick! Such a man as you are ought not to be tied to
+any woman, or, if you must be, you ought not to go cheap. Mind, Zoe is a
+poor girl; only ten thousand in the world. Flirt with whom you
+like--there is no harm in that; but don't get seriously entangled with
+any of them. Good sisters, and good daughters, and good flirts make bad
+wives."
+
+"Oh, then," said Severne, "it is only on my account you object."
+
+"Well, principally. And I don't exactly object. I warn. In the first
+place, as soon as ever we get into Barfordshire, she will most likely
+jilt you. You may be only her Continental lover. How can I tell, _or you
+either?_ And if not, and you were to be weak enough to marry her, she
+would develop unexpected vices directly--they all do. And you are not
+rich enough to live in a house of your own; you would have to live in
+mine--a fine fate for a rising blade like you."
+
+"What a terrible prospect--to be tied to the best friend in England as
+well as the loveliest woman!"
+
+"Oh, if that is the view you take," said Vizard, beaming with delight,
+"it is no use talking reason to _you."_
+
+When they reached London, Vizard gave Miss Maitland an outline of this
+conversation; and, so far from seeing the humor of it, which,
+nevertheless, was pretty strong and characteristic of the man and his one
+foible, she took the huff, and would not even stay to dinner at the
+hotel. She would go into her own county by the next train, bag and
+baggage.
+
+Mr. Severne was the only one who offered to accompany her to the Great
+Western Railway. She declined. He insisted; went with her; got her
+ticket, numbered and arranged her packages, and saw her safely off, with
+an air of profound respect and admirably feigned regret.
+
+That she was the dupe of his art, may be doubted: that he lost nothing by
+it, is certain. Men are not ruined by civility. As soon as she was
+seated, she said, "I beg, sir, you will waste no more time with me. Mr.
+Severne, you have behaved to me like a gentleman, and that is very
+unusual in a man of your age nowadays. I cannot alter my opinion about my
+niece and you: but I _am_ sorry you are a poor gentleman--much too poor
+to marry her, and I wish I could make you a rich one; but I cannot. There
+is my hand."
+
+You should have seen the air of tender veneration with which the young
+Machiavel bowed over her hand, and even imprinted a light touch on it
+with his velvet lips.
+
+Then he retired, disconsolate, and, once out of sight, whipped into a
+gin-palace and swallowed a quartern of neat brandy, to take the taste out
+of his mouth. "Go it, Ned," said he, to himself; "you can't afford to
+make enemies."
+
+The old lady went off bitter against the whole party _except Mr.
+Severne;_ and he retired to his friends, disembarrassed of the one foe he
+had not turned into a downright friend, but only disarmed. Well does the
+great Voltaire recommend what he well calls "le grand art de plaire."
+
+Vizard sent Harris into Barfordshire, to prepare for the comfort of the
+party; and to light fires in all the bedrooms, though it was summer; and
+to see the beds, blankets and sheets aired at the very fires of the very
+rooms they were to be used in. This sacred office he never trusted to a
+housekeeper; he used even to declare, as the result of experience, that
+it was beyond the intellect of any woman really to air mattresses,
+blankets, and sheets--all three. He had also a printed list he used to
+show about, of five acquaintances, stout fellows all, whom "little bits
+of women" (such was his phraseology) had laid low with damp beds, having
+crippled two for life with rheumatism and lumbago, and sent three to
+their long home.
+
+Meantime Severne took the ladies to every public attraction by day and
+night, and Vizard thanked him, before the fair, for his consideration in
+taking them off his hands; and Severne retorted by thanking him for
+leaving them on his.
+
+It may seem, at first, a vile selection; but I am going to ask the ladies
+who honor me with their attention to follow, not that gay, amorous party
+of three, but this solitary cynic on his round.
+
+Taking a turn round the garden in Leicester Square, which was new to him,
+Harrington Vizard's observant eye saw a young lady rise up from a seat to
+go, but turn pale directly, and sit down again upon the arm of the seat,
+as if for support.
+
+"Halloo!" said Vizard, in his blunt way, _"you_ are not well. What can I
+do for you?"
+
+"I am all right," said she. "Please go on;" the latter words in a tone
+that implied she was not a novice, and the attentions of gentlemen to
+strange ladies were suspected.
+
+"I beg your pardon," said Vizard, coolly. "You are not all right. You
+look as if you were going to faint."
+
+"What, are my lips blue?"
+
+"No; but they are pale."
+
+"Well, then it is not a case of fainting. It _may_ be exhaustion."
+
+"You know best. What shall we do?"
+
+"Why, nothing. Yes; mind our own business."
+
+"With all my heart; my business just now is to offer you some
+restorative--a glass of wine."
+
+"Oh, yes! I think I see myself going into a public-house with you.
+Besides, I don't believe in stimulants. Strength can only enter the human
+body one way. I know what is the matter with me."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"I am not obliged to tell _you."_
+
+"Of course you are not obliged; but you might as well."
+
+"Well, then, it is Hunger."
+
+"Hunger!"
+
+"Hunger--famine--starvation. Don't you know English?"
+
+"I hope you are not serious, madam," said Vizard, very gravely. "However,
+if ladies will say such things as that, men with stomachs in their bosoms
+must act accordingly. Oblige me by taking my arm, as you are weak, and we
+will adjourn to that eating-house over the way."
+
+"Much obliged," said the lady, satirically, "our acquaintance is not
+_quite_ long enough for that."
+
+He looked at her; a tall, slim, young lady, black merino, by no means
+new, clean cuffs and collar leaning against the chair for support, and
+yet sacrificing herself to conventional propriety, and even withstanding
+him with a pretty little air of defiance that was pitiable, her pallor
+and the weakness of her body considered.
+
+The poor Woman-hater's bowels began to yearn. "Look here, you little
+spitfire," said he, "if you don't instantly take my arm, I'll catch you
+up and carry you over, with no more trouble than you would carry a
+thread-paper."
+
+She looked him up and down very keenly, and at last with a slight
+expression of feminine approval, the first she had vouchsafed him. Then
+she folded her arms, and cocked her little nose at him, "You daren't.
+I'll call the police."
+
+"If you do, I'll tell them you are my little cousin, mad as a March hare:
+starving, and won't eat. Come, how is it to be?" He advanced upon her.
+
+"You can't be in earnest, sir," said she, with sudden dignity.
+
+"Am I not, though? You don't know _me._ I am used to be obeyed. If you
+don't go with me like a sensible girl, I'll carry you--to your
+dinner--like a ruffian."
+
+"Then I'll go--like a lady," said she, with sudden humility.
+
+He offered her his arm. She passed hers within; but leaned as lightly as
+possible on it, and her poor pale face was a little pink as they went.
+
+He entered the eating-house, and asked for two portions of cold roast
+beef, not to keep her waiting. They were brought.
+
+"Sir," said she, with a subjugated air, "will you be so good as cut up
+the meat small, and pass it to me a bit or two at a time."
+
+He was surprised, but obeyed her orders.
+
+"And if you could make me talk a little? Because, at sight of the meat so
+near me, I feel like a tigress--poor human nature! Sir, I have not eaten
+meat for a week, nor food of any kind this two days."
+
+"Good God!"
+
+"So I must be prudent. People have gorged themselves with furious eating
+under those circumstances; that is why I asked you to supply me slowly.
+Thank you. You need not look at me like that. Better folk than I have
+_died_ of hunger. Something tells me I have reached the lowest spoke,
+when I have been indebted to a stranger for a meal."
+
+Vizard felt the water come into his eyes; but he resisted that pitiable
+weakness. "Bother that nonsense!" said he. "I'll introduce myself, and
+then you can't throw _stranger_ in my teeth. I am Harrington Vizard, a
+Barfordshire squire."
+
+"I thought you were not a Cockney."
+
+"Lord forbid! Does that information entitle me to any in return?"
+
+"I don't know; but, whether or no, my name is Rhoda Gale."
+
+"Have another plate, Miss Gale?"
+
+"Thanks."
+
+He ordered another.
+
+"I am proud of your confiding your name to me, Miss Gale; but, to tell
+the truth, what I wanted to know is how a young lady of your talent and
+education could be so badly off as you must be. It is not impertinent
+curiosity."
+
+The young lady reflected a moment. "Sir," said she, "I don't think it is;
+and I would not much mind telling you. Of course I studied you before I
+came here. Even hunger would not make me sit in a tavern beside a fool,
+or a snob, or (with a faint blush) a libertine. But to tell one's own
+story, that is so egotistical, for one thing.
+
+"Oh, it is never egotistical to oblige."
+
+"Now, that is sophistical. Then, again, I am afraid I could not tell it
+to you without crying, because you seem rather a manly man, and some of
+it might revolt you, and you might sympathize right out, and then I
+should break down."
+
+"No matter. Do us both good."
+
+"Yes, but before the waiters and people! See how they are staring at us
+already."
+
+"We will have another go in at the beef, and then adjourn to the garden
+for your narrative."
+
+"No: as much garden as you like, but no more beef. I have eaten one
+sirloin, I reckon. Will you give me one cup of black tea without sugar or
+milk?"
+
+Vizard gave the order.
+
+She seemed to think some explanation necessary, though he did not.
+
+"One cup of tea agrees with my brain and nerves," said she. "It steadies
+them. That is a matter of individual experience. I should not prescribe
+it to others any the more for that."
+
+Vizard sat wondering at the girl. He said to himself, "What is she? A
+_lusus naturoe?"_
+
+When the tea came, and she had sipped a little, she perked up
+wonderfully. Said she, "Oh, the magic effect of food eaten judiciously!
+Now I am a lioness, and do not fear the future. Yes; I will tell you my
+story--and, if you think you are going to hear a love-story, you will be
+nicely caught--ha-ha! No, _sir;"_ said she, with rising fervor and
+heightened color, "you will hear a story the public is deeply interested
+in and does not know it; ay, a story that will certainly be referred to
+with wonder and shame, whenever civilization shall become a reality, and
+law cease to be a tool of injustice and monopoly." She paused a moment;
+then said a little doggedly, as one used to encounter prejudice, "I am a
+medical student; a would-be doctor."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"And so well qualified by genuine gifts, by study from my infancy, by
+zeal, quick senses, and cultivated judgment, that, were all the leading
+London physicians examined to-morrow by qualified persons at the same
+board as myself, most of those wealthy practitioners--not all, mind
+you--would cut an indifferent figure in modern science compared with me,
+whom you have had to rescue from starvation--because I am a woman."
+
+Her eye flashed. But she moderated herself, and said, "That is the
+outline; and it is a grievance. Now, grievances are bores. You can escape
+this one before it is too late."
+
+"If it lies with me, I demand the minutest details," said Vizard, warmly.
+
+"You shall have them; and true to the letter."
+
+Vizard settled the small account, and adjourned, with his companion, to
+the garden. She walked by his side, with her face sometimes thoughtfully
+bent on the ground, and sometimes confronting him with ardor, and told
+him a true story, the simplicity of which I shall try not to spoil with
+any vulgar arts of fiction.
+
+A LITTLE NARRATIVE OF DRY FACTS TOLD TO A WOMAN-HATER BY A WOMAN.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+"My father was an American, my mother English. I was born near Epsom and
+lived there ten years. Then my father had property left him in
+Massachusetts, and we went to Boston. Both my parents educated me, and
+began very early. I observe that most parents are babies at teaching,
+compared with mine. My father was a linguist, and taught me to lisp
+German, French, and English; my mother was an ideaed woman: she taught me
+three rarities--attention, observation, and accuracy. If I went a walk in
+the country, I had to bring her home a budget: the men and women on the
+road, their dresses, appearance, countenances, and words; every kind of
+bird in the air, and insect and chrysalis in the hedges; the crops in the
+fields, the flowers and herbs on the banks. If I walked in the town, I
+must not be eyes and no eyes; woe betide me if I could only report the
+dresses! Really, I have known me, when I was but eight, come home to my
+mother laden with details, when perhaps an untrained girl of eighteen
+could only have specified that she had gone up and down a thoroughfare.
+Another time mother would take me on a visit: next day, or perhaps next
+week, she would expect me to describe every article of furniture in her
+friend's room, and the books on the table, and repeat the conversation,
+the topics at all events. She taught me to master history _accurately._
+To do this she was artful enough to turn sport into science. She utilized
+a game: young people in Boston play it. A writes an anecdote on paper, or
+perhaps produces it in print. She reads it off to B. B goes away, and
+writes it down by memory; then reads her writing out to C. C has to
+listen, and convey her impression to paper. This she reads to D, and D
+goes and writes it. Then the original story and D's version are compared;
+and, generally speaking, the difference of the two is a caution--against
+oral tradition. When the steps of deviation are observed, it is quite a
+study.
+
+"My mother, with her good wit, saw there was something better than fun to
+be got out of this. She trained my memory of great things with it. She
+began with striking passages of history, and played the game with father
+and me. But as my power of retaining, and repeating correctly, grew by
+practice, she enlarged the business, and kept enriching my memory, so
+that I began to have tracts of history at my fingers' ends. As I grew
+older, she extended the sport to laws and the great public controversies
+in religion, politics, and philosophy that have agitated the world. But
+here she had to get assistance from her learned friends. She was a woman
+valued by men of intellect, and she had no mercy--milked jurists,
+physicians, and theologians and historians all into my little pail. To be
+sure, they were as kind about it as she was unscrupulous. They saw I was
+a keen student, and gave my mother many a little gem in writing. She read
+them out to me: I listened hard, and thus I fixed many great and good
+things in my trained memory; and repeated them against the text: I was
+never allowed to see _that._
+
+"With this sharp training, school subjects were child's play to me, and I
+won a good many prizes very easily. My mother would not let me waste a
+single minute over music. She used to say 'Music extracts what little
+brains a girl has. Open the piano, you shut the understanding.' I am
+afraid I bore you with my mother."
+
+"Not at all, not at all. I admire her."
+
+"Oh, thank you! thank you, sir! She never uses big words; so it is only
+of late I have had the _nous_ to see how wise she is. She corrected the
+special blots of the female character in me, and it is sweet to me to
+talk of that dear friend. What would I give to see her here!"
+
+
+"Well, then, sir, she made me, as far as she could, a--what shall I say?
+a kind of little intellectual gymnast, fit to begin any study; but she
+left me to choose my own line. Well, I was for natural history first;
+began like a girl; gathered wild flowers and simples at Epsom, along with
+an old woman; she discoursed on their traditional virtues, and knew
+little of their real properties: _that_ I have discovered since.
+
+"From herbs to living things; never spared a chrysalis, but always took
+it home and watched it break into wings. Hung over the ponds in June,
+watching the eggs of the frog turn to tadpoles, and the tadpoles to
+Johnny Crapaud. I obeyed Scripture in one thing, for I studied the ants
+and their ways.
+
+"I collected birds' eggs. At nine, not a boy in the parish could find
+more nests in a day than I could. With birdnesting, buying, and now and
+then begging, I made a collection that figures in a museum over the
+water, and is entitled 'Eggs of British Birds.' The colors attract, and
+people always stop at it. But it does no justice whatever to the great
+variety of sea-birds' eggs on the coast of Britain.
+
+"When I had learned what little they teach in schools, especially
+drawing, and that is useful in scientific pursuits, I was allowed to
+choose my own books, and attend lectures. One blessed day I sat and
+listened to Agassiz--ah! No tragedy well played, nor opera sung, ever
+moved a heart so deeply as he moved mine, that great and earnest man,
+whose enthusiasm for nature was as fresh as my own, and his knowledge a
+thousand times larger. Talk of heaven opening to the Christian pilgrim as
+he passes Jordan! Why, God made earth as well as heaven, and it is worthy
+of the Architect; and it is a joy divine when earth opens to the true
+admirer of God's works. Sir, earth opened to me, as Agassiz discoursed.
+
+"I followed him about like a little bloodhound, and dived into the
+libraries after each subject he treated or touched.
+
+"It was another little epoch in my life when I read 'White's Letters to
+Pennant' about natural history in Selborne. Selborne is an English
+village, not half so pretty as most; and, until Gilbert White came,
+nobody saw anything there worth printing. His book showed me that the
+humblest spot in nature becomes extraordinary the moment extraordinary
+observation is applied to it. I must mimic Gilbert White directly. I
+pestered my poor parents to spend a month or two in the depths of the
+country, on the verge of a forest. They yielded, with groans; I kissed
+them, and we rusticated. I pried into every living thing, not forgetting
+my old friends, the insect tribe. Here I found ants with grander ideas
+than they have to home, and satisfied myself they have more brains than
+apes. They co-operate more, and in complicated things. Sir, there are
+ants that make greater marches, for their size, than Napoleon's invasion
+of Russia. Even the less nomad tribes will march through fields of grass,
+where each blade is a high gum-tree to them, and never lose the track. I
+saw an army of red ants, with generals, captains, and ensigns, start at
+daybreak, march across a road, through a hedge, and then through high
+grass till noon, and surprise a fortification of black ants, and take it
+after a sanguinary resistance. All that must have been planned
+beforehand, you know, and carried out to the letter. Once I found a
+colony busy on some hard ground, preparing an abode. I happened to have
+been microscoping a wasp, so I threw him down among the ants. They were
+disgusted. They ran about collecting opinions. Presently half of them
+burrowed into the earth below and undermined him, till he lay on a crust
+of earth as thin as a wafer, and a deep grave below. Then they all got on
+him except one, and He stood pompous on a pebble, and gave orders. The
+earth broke--the wasp went down into his grave--and the ants soon covered
+him with loose earth, and resumed their domestic architecture. I
+concluded that though the monkey resembles man most in body, the ant
+comes nearer him in mind. As for dogs, I don't know where to rank them in
+_nature,_ because they have been pupils of man for centuries. I bore
+you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Oh, yes, I do: an enthusiast is always a bore. 'Les facheux,' of Moliere
+are just enthusiasts. Well, sir, in one word, I was a natural
+philosopher--very small, but earnest; and, in due course, my studies
+brought me to the wonders of the human body. I studied the outlines of
+anatomy in books, and plates, and prepared figures; and from that, by
+degrees, I was led on to surgery and medicine--in books, you understand;
+and they are only half the battle. Medicine is a thing one can do. It is
+a noble science, a practical science, and a subtle science, where I
+thought my powers of study and observation might help me to be keen at
+reading symptoms, and do good to man, and be a famous woman; so I
+concluded to benefit mankind and myself. Stop! that sounds like
+self-deception. It must have been myself and mankind I concluded to
+benefit. Anyway, I pestered that small section of mankind which consisted
+of my parents, until they consented to let me study medicine in Europe."
+
+"What, all by yourself?"
+
+"Yes. Oh, girls are very independent in the States, and govern the old
+people. Mine said 'No' a few dozen times; but they were bound to end in
+'Yes,' and I went to Zurich. I studied hard there, and earned the
+approbation of the professors. But the school deteriorated; too many
+ladies poured in from Russia: some were not in earnest, and preferred
+flirting to study, and did themselves no good, and made the male students
+idle, and wickeder than ever--if possible."
+
+"What else could you expect?" said Vizard.
+
+"Nothing else from _unpicked_ women. But when all the schools in Europe
+shall be open--as they ought to be, and must, and shall--there will be no
+danger of shallow girls crowding to any particular school. Besides, there
+will be a more strict and rapid routine of examination then to sift out
+the female flirts and the male dunces along with them, I hope.
+
+"Well, sir, we few, that really meant medicine, made inquiries, and heard
+of a famous old school in the south of France, where women had graduated
+of old; and two of us went there to try--an Italian lady and myself. We
+carried good testimonials from Zurich, and, not to frighten the Frenchmen
+at starting, I attacked them alone. Cornelia was my elder, and my
+superior in attainments. She was a true descendant of those learned
+ladies who have adorned the chairs of philosophy, jurisprudence, anatomy,
+and medicine in her native country; but she has the wisdom of the
+serpent, as well as of the sage; and she put me forward because of my red
+hair. She said that would be a passport to the dark philosophers of
+France."
+
+"Was not that rather foxy, Miss Gale?"
+
+"Foxy as my hair itself, Mr. Vizard.
+
+"Well, I applied to a professor. He received me with profound courtesy
+and feigned respect, but was staggered at my request to matriculate. He
+gesticulated and bowed _'a la Francaise,_ and begged the permission of
+his foxy-haired invader from Northern climes to consult his colleagues.
+Would I do him the great honor to call again next day at twelve? I did
+and met three other polished authorities. One spoke for all, and said, If
+I had not brought with me proofs of serious study, they should have
+dissuaded me very earnestly from a science I could not graduate in
+without going through practical courses of anatomy and clinical surgery.
+That, however (with a regular French shrug), was my business, not theirs.
+It was not for them to teach me delicacy, but rather to learn it from me.
+That was a French sneer. The French are _un gens moqueur,_ you know. I
+received both shrug and sneer like marble. He ended it all by saying the
+school had no written law excluding doctresses; and the old records
+proved women had graduated, and even lectured, there. I had only to pay
+my fees, and enter upon my routine of studies. So I was admitted on
+sufferance; but I soon earned the good opinion of the professors, and of
+this one in particular; and then Cornelia applied for admission, and was
+let in too. We lived together, and had no secrets; and I think, sir, I
+may venture to say that we showed some little wisdom, if you consider our
+age, and all that was done to spoil us. As to parrying their little sly
+attempts at flirtation, that is nothing; we came prepared. But, when our
+fellow-students found we were in earnest, and had high views, the
+chivalrous spirit of a gallant nation took fire, and they treated us with
+a delicate reverence that might have turned any woman's head. But we had
+the credit of a sneered-at sex to keep up, and felt our danger, and
+warned each other; and I remember I told Cornelia how many young ladies
+in the States I had seen puffed up by the men's extravagant homage, and
+become spoiled children, and offensively arrogant and discourteous; so I
+entreated her to check those vices in me the moment she saw them coming.
+
+"When we had been here a year, attending all the lectures--clinical
+medicine and surgery included--news came that one British school,
+Edinburgh, had shown symptoms of yielding to Continental civilization and
+relaxing monopoly. That turned me North directly. My mother is English: I
+wanted to be a British doctress, not a French. Cornelia had misgivings,
+and even condescended to cry over me. But I am a mule, and always was.
+Then that dear friend made terms with me: I must not break off my
+connection with the French school, she said. No; she had thought it well
+over; I must ask leave of the French professors to study in the North,
+and bring back notes about those distant Thulians. Says she, 'Your
+studies in that savage island will be allowed to go for something here,
+if you improve your time--and you will be sure to, sweetheart--that I
+may be always proud of you.' Dear Cornelia!"
+
+"Am I to believe all this?" said Vizard. "Can women be such true
+friends?"
+
+"What cannot women be? What! are you one of those who take us for a
+_clique?_ Don't you know more than half mankind are women?"
+
+"Alas!"
+
+"Alas for them!" said Rhoda, sharply.
+
+"Well, well," said Vizard, putting on sudden humility, "don't let us
+quarrel. I hate quarreling--where I'm sure to get the worst. Ay,
+friendship is a fine thing, in men or women; a far nobler sentiment than
+love. You will not admit that, of course, being a woman."
+
+"Oh, yes, I will," said she. "Why, I have observed love attentively; and
+I pronounce it a fever of the mind. It disturbs the judgment and perverts
+the conscience. You side with the beloved, right or wrong. What personal
+degradation! I observe, too, that a grand passion is a grand misfortune:
+they are always in a storm of hope, fears, doubt, jealousy, rapture,
+rage, and the end deceit, or else satiety. Friendship is steady and
+peaceful; not much jealousy, no heart-burnings. It strengthens with time,
+and survives the small-pox and a wooden leg. It doubles our joys, and
+divides our grief, and lights and warms our lives with a steady flame.
+_Solem e mundo tollunt, qui tollunt amicitiam."_
+
+"Halloo!" cried Vizard. "What! you know Latin too?"
+
+"Why, of course--a smattering; or how could I read Pliny, and Celsus, and
+ever so much more rubbish that custom chucks down before the gates of
+knowledge, and says, 'There--before you go the right road, you ought to
+go the wrong; _it is usual._ Study now, with the reverence they don't
+deserve, the non-observers of antiquity.'"
+
+"Spare me the ancients, Miss Gale," said Vizard, "and reveal me the girl
+of the period. When I was so ill-bred as to interrupt you, you had left
+France, crowned with laurels, and were just invading Britain."
+
+Something in his words or his tone discouraged the subtle observer, and
+she said, coldly, "Excuse me: I have hardly the courage. My British
+history is a tale of injustice, suffering, insult, and, worst of all,
+defeat. I cannot promise to relate it with that composure whoever
+pretends to science ought: the wound still bleeds."
+
+Then Vizard was vexed with himself, and looked grave and concerned. He
+said, gently, "Miss Gale, I am sorry to give you pain; but what you have
+told me is so new and interesting, I shall be disappointed if you
+withhold the rest: besides, you know it gives no lasting pain to relate
+our griefs. Come, come--be brave, and tell me."
+
+"Well, I will," said she. "Indeed, some instinct moves me. Good may come
+of my telling it you. I think--somehow--you are--a--just--man."
+
+In the act of saying this, she fixed her gray eyes steadily and
+searchingly upon Vizard's face, so that he could scarcely meet them, they
+were so powerful; then, suddenly, the observation seemed to die out of
+them, and reflection to take its place: those darting eyes were turned
+inward. It was a marked variety of power. There was something wizard-like
+in the vividness with which two distinct mental processes were presented
+by the varied action of a single organ; and Vizard then began to suspect
+that a creature stood before him with a power of discerning and digesting
+truth, such as he had not yet encountered either in man or woman. She
+entered on her British adventures in her clear silvery voice. It was not,
+like Ina Klosking's, rich, and deep, and tender; yet it had a certain
+gentle beauty to those who love truth, because it was dispassionate, yet
+expressive, and cool, yet not cold. One might call it truth's silver
+trumpet.
+
+
+On the brink of an extraordinary passage, I pause to make no fewer than
+three remarks in my own person: 1st. Let no reader of mine allow himself
+to fancy Rhoda Gale and her antecedents are a mere excrescence of my
+story. She was rooted to it even before the first scene of it--the
+meeting of Ashmead and the Klosking--and this will soon appear. 2d. She
+is now going into a controverted matter; and, though she is sincere and
+truthful, she is of necessity a _partisan._ Do not take her for a judge.
+You be the judge. 3d. But, as a judge never shuts his mind to either
+side, do not refuse her a fair hearing. Above all, do not underrate the
+question. Let not the balance of your understanding be so upset by
+ephemeral childishness as to fancy that it matters much whether you break
+an egg top or bottom, because Gulliver's two nations went to war about
+it; or that it matters much whether your queen is called queen of India
+or empress, because two parties made a noise about it, and the country
+has wasted ten thousand square miles of good paper on the subject,
+trivial as the dust on a butterfly's wing. Fight against these illusions
+of petty and ephemeral minds. It does not matter the millionth of a straw
+to _mankind_ whether any one woman is called queen, or empress, of India;
+and it matters greatly to mankind whether the whole race of women are to
+be allowed to study medicine and practice it, if they can rival the male,
+or are to be debarred from testing their scientific ability, and so
+outlawed, _though taxed_ in defiance of British liberty, and all justice,
+human and divine, by eleven hundred lawgivers--most of 'em fools.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+"WHEN I reached Great Britain, the right of women to medicine was in this
+condition--a learned lawyer explained it carefully to me. I will give you
+his words: The unwritten law of every nation admits all mankind, and not
+the male half only, to the study and practice of medicine and the sale of
+drugs. In Great Britain this law is called the common law and is deeply
+respected. Whatever liberty it allows to men or women is held sacred in
+our courts until _directly_ and _explicitly_ withdrawn by some act of the
+Legislature. Under this ancient liberty, women have occasionally
+practiced general medicine and surgery up to the year 1858. But for
+centuries they _monopolized,_ by custom, one branch of practice, the
+obstetric; and that, together with the occasional treatment of children,
+and the nursing of both sexes, which is semi-medical, and is their
+_monopoly,_ seems, on the whole, to have contented them, till late years,
+when their views were enlarged by wider education and other causes. But
+their abstinence from general practice, like their monopoly of
+obstetrics, lay with women themselves, and not with the law of England.
+That law is the same in this respect as the common law of Italy and
+France; and the constitution of Bologna, where so many doctresses have
+filled the chairs of medicine and other sciences, makes no more direct
+provision for female students than does the constitution of any Scotch or
+English university.--The whole thing lay with the women themselves, and
+with local civilization. Years ago, Italy was far more civilized than
+England; so Italian women took a large sphere. Of late the Anglo-Saxon
+has gone in for civilization with his usual energy, and is eclipsing
+Italy; therefore his women aspire to larger spheres of intellect and
+action, beginning in the States, because American women are better
+educated than English. The advance of _women_ in useful attainments is
+the most infallible sign in any country of advancing civilization. All
+this about civilization is my observation, sir, and not the lawyer's. Now
+for the lawyer again: Such being the law of England, the British
+Legislature passed an act in 1858, the real object of which was to
+protect the public against incapable doctors, not against capable
+doctresses or doctors. The act excludes from medical practice all persons
+whatever, male or female, unless registered in a certain register; and to
+get upon that register the person, male or female, must produce a license
+or diploma, granted by one of the British examining boards specified in a
+schedule attached to the act.
+
+"Now, these examining boards were all members of the leading medical
+schools. If the Legislature had taken the usual precaution, and had added
+a clause _compelling_ those boards to examine worthy applicants, the act
+would have been a sound public measure; but for want of that
+foresight--and without foresight a lawgiver is an impostor and a public
+pest--the State robbed women of their old common-law rights with one
+hand, and with the other enabled a respectable trades-union to thrust
+them out of their new statutory rights. Unfortunately, the respectable
+union, to whom the Legislature delegated an unconstitutional power they
+did not claim themselves, of excluding qualified persons from
+examination, and so robbing them of their license and their bread, had an
+overpowering interest to exclude qualified women from medicine. They had
+the same interest as the watchmakers' union, the printers', the painters'
+on china, the calico-engravers', and others have to exclude qualified
+women from those branches, though peculiarly fitted for them; but not
+more so than they are for the practice of medicine, God having made
+_them,_ and not _men,_ the medical, and unmusical, sex.
+
+"Wherever there's a trades-union, the weakest go to the wall. Those
+vulgar unions I have mentioned exclude women from skilled labor they
+excel in, by violence and conspiracy, though the law threatens them with
+imprisonment for it. Was it in nature, then, that the medical union would
+be infinitely forbearing, when the Legislature went and patted it on the
+back, and said, you can conspire with safety against your female rivals.
+Of course the clique were tempted more than any clique could bear by the
+unwariness of the Legislature, and closed the doors of the medical
+schools to female applicants. Against unqualified female practitioners
+they never acted with such zeal and consent; and why? The female quack is
+a public pest, and a good foil to the union; the qualified doctress is a
+public good, and a blow to the union.
+
+"The British medical union was now in a fine attitude by act of
+Parliament. It could talk its contempt of medical women, and act its
+terror of them, and keep both its feigned contempt and its real alarm
+safe from the test of a public examination--that crucible in which cant,
+surmise, and mendacity are soon evaporated or precipitated, and only the
+truth stands firm.
+
+"For all that, two female practitioners got upon the register, and stand
+out, living landmarks of experience and the truth, in the dead wilderness
+of surmise and prejudice.
+
+"I will tell you how they got in. The act of Parliament makes two
+exceptions: first, it lets in, _without examination_--and that is very
+unwise--any foreign doctor who shall be practicing in England at the date
+of the act, although, with equal incapacity, it omits to provide that any
+future foreign doctor shall be able to _demand examination_ (in with the
+old foreign fogies, blindfold, right or wrong; out with the rising
+foreign luminaries of an ever-advancing science, right or wrong); and,
+secondly, it lets in, without examination, to experiment on the vile body
+of the public, any person, qualified or unqualified, who may have been
+made a doctor by a very venerable and equally irrelevant functionary.
+Guess, now, who it is that a British Parliament sets above the law, as a
+doctor-maker for that public it professes to love and protect!"
+
+"The Regius Professor of Medicine?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Tyndall?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Huxley?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then I give it up."
+
+"The Archbishop of Canterbury."
+
+"Oh, come! a joke is a joke."
+
+"This is no joke. Bright monument of British funkyism and imbecility,
+there stands the clause setting that reverend and irrelevant doctor-maker
+above the law, which sets his grace's female relations below the law,
+and, in practice, outlaws the whole female population, starving those who
+desire to practice medicine learnedly, and oppressing those who, out of
+modesty, not yet quite smothered by custom and monopoly, desire to
+consult a learned female physician, instead of being driven, like sheep,
+by iron tyranny--in a country that babbles Liberty--to a male physician
+or a female quack.
+
+"Well, sir, in 1849 Miss Elizabeth Blackwell fought the good fight in the
+United States, and had her troubles; because the States were not so
+civilized then as now. She graduated doctor at Geneva, in the State of
+New York.
+
+"She was practicing in England in 1858, and demanded her place on the
+register. She is an Englishwoman by birth; but she is an English M.D.
+only through America having more brains than Britain. This one islander
+sings, 'Hail, Columbia!' as often as 'God save the Queen!' I reckon.
+
+"Miss Garrett, an enthusiastic student, traveled north, south, east, and
+west, and knocked in vain at the doors of every great school and
+university in Britain, but at last found a chink in the iron shutters of
+the London Apothecaries'. It seems Parliament was wiser in 1815 than in
+1858, for it inserted a clause in the Apothecaries Act of 1815
+_compelling_ them to examine all persons who should apply to them for
+examination after proper courses of study. Their charter contained no
+loop-hole to evade the act, and substitute 'him' for 'person;' so they
+let Miss Garrett in as a student. Like all the students, she had to
+attend lectures on chemistry botany, materia medica, zoology, natural
+philosophy, and clinical surgery. In the collateral subjects they let her
+sit with the male students; but in anatomy and surgery she had to attend
+the same lectures privately, and pay for lectures all to herself. This
+cost her enormous fees. However, it is only fair to say that, if she had
+been one of a dozen female students, the fees would have been diffused;
+as it was, she had to gild the pill out of her private purse.
+
+"In the hospital teaching she met difficulties and discouragement, though
+she asked for no more opportunities than are granted readily to
+professional nurses and female amateurs. But the whole thing is a mere
+money question; that is the key to every lock in it.
+
+"She was freely admitted at last to one great hospital, and all went
+smoothly till some surgeon examined the students _viva voce;_ then Miss
+Garrett was off her guard, and displayed too marked a superiority;
+thereupon the male students played the woman, and begged she might be
+excluded; and, I am sorry to say, for the credit of your sex, this
+unmanly request was complied with by the womanish males in power.
+
+"However, at her next hospital, Miss Garrett was more discreet, and took
+pains to conceal her galling superiority.
+
+"All her trouble ended--where her competitors' began--at the public
+examination. She passed brilliantly, and is an English apothecary. In
+civilized France she is a learned physician.
+
+"She had not been an apothecary a week, before the Apothecaries' Society
+received six hundred letters from the medical small-fry in town and
+country; they threatened to send no more boys to the Apothecaries', but
+to the College of Surgeons, if ever another woman received an
+apothecary's license. Now, you know, all men tremble in England at the
+threats of a trades-union; so the apothecaries instantly cudgeled their
+brains to find a way to disobey the law, and obey the union. The medical
+press gave them a hint, and they passed a by-law, forbidding their
+students to receive any part of their education _privately,_ and made it
+known, at the same time, that their female students would not be allowed
+to study the leading subjects _publicly._ And so they baffled the
+Legislature, and outlawed half the nation, by a juggle which the press
+and the public would have risen against, if a single grown-up man had
+been its victim, instead of four million adult women. Now, you are a
+straightforward man; what do you think of that?"
+
+"Humph!" said Vizard. "I do not altogether approve it. The strong should
+not use the arts of the weak in fighting the weak. But, in spite of your
+eloquence, I mean to forgive them anything. Shakespeare has provided
+there with an excuse that fits all time:
+
+"'Our poverty, but not our will, consents.'"
+
+"Poverty! the poverty of a company in the city of London! _Allons donc._
+Well, sir, for years after this all Europe, even Russia, advanced in
+civilization, and opened their medical schools to women; so did the
+United States: only the pig-headed Briton stood stock-still, and gloried
+in his minority of one; as if one small island is likely to be right in
+its monomania, and all civilized nations wrong.
+
+"But while I was studying in France, one lion-hearted Englishwoman was
+moving our native isle. First she tried the University of London; and
+that sets up for a liberal foundation. Answer--'Our charter is expressly
+framed to exclude women from medical instruction.'
+
+"Then she sat down to besiege Edinburgh. Now, Edinburgh is a very
+remarkable place. It has only half the houses, but ten times the
+intellect, of Liverpool or Manchester. And the university has two
+advantages as a home of _science_ over the English universities: it is
+far behind them in Greek, which is the language of error and nescience,
+and before them in English, and that is a tongue a good deal of knowledge
+is printed in. Edinburgh is the only center of British literature, except
+London.
+
+"One medical professor received the pioneer with a concise severity, and
+declined to hear her plead her cause, and one received her almost
+brutally. He said, 'No respectable woman would apply to him to study
+medicine.' Now, respectable women were studying it all over Europe."
+
+"Well, but perhaps his soul lived in an island."
+
+"That is so. However, personal applicants must expect a rub or two; and
+most of the professors, in and out of medicine, treated her with kindness
+and courtesy.
+
+"Still, she found even the friendly professors alarmed at the idea of a
+woman matriculating, and becoming _Civis Edinensis;_ so she made a
+moderate application to the Senate, viz., for leave to attend medical
+lectures. This request was indorsed by a majority of the medical
+professors, and granted. But on the appeal of a few medical professors
+against it, the Senate suspended its resolution, on the ground that there
+was only one applicant.
+
+"This got wind, and other ladies came into the field directly, your
+humble servant among them. Then the Senate felt bound to recommend the
+University Court to admit such female students to matriculate as could
+pass the preliminary examination; this is in history, logic, languages,
+and other branches; and we prepared for it in good faith. It was a happy
+time: after a good day's work, I used to go up the Calton Hill, or
+Arthur's Seat, and view the sea, and the Piraens, and the violet hills,
+and the romantic undulations of the city itself, and my heart glowed with
+love of knowledge, and with honorable ambition. I ran over the names of
+worthy women who had adorned medicine at sundry times and in divers
+places, and resolved to deserve as great a name as any in history.
+Refreshed by my walk--I generally walked eight miles, and practiced
+gymnastics to keep my muscles hard--I used to return to my little
+lodgings; and they too were sweet to me, for I was learning a new
+science--logic."
+
+"That was a nut to crack."
+
+"I have met few easier or sweeter. One non-observer had told me it was a
+sham science, and mere pedantry; another, that it pretended to show men a
+way to truth without observing. I found, on the contrary, that it was a
+very pretty little science, which does not affect to discover phenomena,
+but simply to guard men against rash generalization, and false deductions
+from true data; it taught me the untrained world is brimful of fallacies
+and verbal equivoques that ought not to puzzle a child, but, whenever
+they creep into an argument, do actually confound the learned and the
+simple alike, and all for want of a month's logic.
+
+"Yes, I was happy on the hill, and happy by the hearth; and so things
+went on till the preliminary examination came. It was not severe; we
+ladies all passed with credit, though many of the male aspirants failed."
+
+"How do you account for that?" asked Vizard.
+
+"With my eyes. I _observe_ that the average male is very superior in
+intellect to the average female; and I _observe_ that the picked female
+is immeasurably more superior to the average male, than the average male
+is to the average female."
+
+"Is it so simple as that?"
+
+"Ay; why not? What! are you one of those who believe that Truth is
+obscure--hides herself--and lies in a well? I tell you, _sir,_ Truth
+lies in no well. The place Truth lies in is--_the middle of the turnpike
+road._ But one old fogy puts on his green spectacles to look for her, and
+another his red, and another his blue; and so they all miss her, because
+she is a colorless diamond. Those spectacles are preconceived notions,
+_'a priori_ reasoning, cant, prejudice, the depth of Mr. Shallow's inner
+consciousness, etc., etc. Then comes the observer, opens the eyes that
+God has given him, tramples on all colored spectacles, and finds Truth as
+surely as the spectacled theorists miss her. Say that the intellect of
+the average male is to the average female as ten to six, it is to the
+intellect of the picked female as ten to a hundred and fifty, or even
+less. Now, the intellect of the male Edinburgh student was much above
+that of the average male, but still it fell far below that of the picked
+female. All the examinations at Edinburgh showed this to all God's
+unspectacled creatures that used their eyes."
+
+These remarks hit Vizard hard. They accorded with his own good sense and
+method of arguing; but perhaps my more careful readers may have already
+observed this. He nodded hearty approval for once, and she went on:
+
+"We had now a right to matriculate and enter on our medical course. But,
+to our dismay, the right was suspended. The proofs of our general
+proficiency, which we hoped would reconcile the professors to us as
+students of medicine, alarmed people, and raised us unscrupulous enemies
+in some who were justly respected, and others who had influence, though
+they hardly deserved it.
+
+"A general council of the university was called to reconsider the pledge
+the Senate had given us, and overawe the university court by the weight
+of academic opinion. The court itself was fluctuating, and ready to turn
+either way. A large number of male students co-operated against us with a
+petition. They, too, were a little vexed at our respectable figure in the
+preliminary examination.
+
+"The assembly met and the union orator got up; he was a preacher of the
+Gospel, and carried the weight of that office. Christianity, as well as
+science, seemed to rise against us in his person. He made a long and
+eloquent speech, based on the intelligent surmises and popular prejudices
+that were diffused in a hundred leading articles, and in letters to the
+editor by men and women, to whom history was a dead letter in modern
+controversies; for the Press battled this matter for two years, and
+furnished each party with an artillery of reasons, _pro_ and _con._
+
+"He said, 'Woman's sphere is the hearth and the home: to impair her
+delicacy is to take the bloom from the peach: she could not qualify for
+medicine without mastering anatomy and surgery--branches that must unsex
+her. Providence, intending her to be man's helpmate, not his rival, had
+given her a body unfit for war or hard labor, and a brain four ounces
+lighter than a man's, and unable to cope with long study and practical
+science. In short, she was too good, and too stupid, for medicine.'
+
+"It was eloquent, but it was _'a priori_ reasoning, and conjecture
+_versus_ evidence: yet the applause it met with showed one how happy is
+the orator 'qui hurle avec les loups.' Taking the scientific preacher's
+whole theory in theology and science, woman was high enough in creation
+to be the mother of God, but not high enough to be a sawbones.
+
+"Well, a professor of _belles-lettres_ rose on our side, not with a rival
+theory, but with facts. He was a pupil of Lord Bacon, and a man of the
+nineteenth century; so he objected to _'a priori_ reasoning on a matter
+of experience. To settle the question of capacity he gave a long list of
+women who had been famous in science. Such as Bettesia Gozzadini, Novella
+Andrea, Novella Calderini, Maddelena Buonsignori, and many more, who were
+doctors of law and university professors: Dorotea Bocohi, who was
+professor both of philosophy and medicine; Laura Bassi, who was elected
+professor of philosophy in 1732 by acclamation, and afterward professor
+of experimental physics; Anna Manzolini, professor of anatomy in 1760;
+Gaetaua Agnesi, professor of mathematics; Christina Roccati, doctor of
+philosophy in 1750; Clotilde Tambroni, professor of Greek in 1793; Maria
+Dalle Donne, doctor of medicine in 1799; Zaffira Ferretti, doctor of
+medicine in 1800; Maria Sega, doctor of medicine in 1799; Madalena Noe,
+graduate of civil law in 1807. Ladies innumerable, who graduated in law
+and medicine at Pavia, Ferrara, and Padua, including Elena Lucrezia
+Cornaro of Padua, a very famous woman. Also in Salamanca, Alcala',
+Cordova, he named more than one famous doctress. Also in Heidelberg,
+Gottingen, Giessen, Wurzburg, etc., and even at Utrect, with numberless
+graduates in the arts and faculties at Montpellier and Paris in all ages.
+Also outside reputations, as of Doctor Bouvin and her mother,
+acknowledged celebrities in their branch of medicine. This chain, he
+said, has never been really broken. There was scarcely a great foreign
+university without some female student of high reputation. There were
+such women at Vienna and Petersburg; many such at Zurich. At Montpellier
+Mademoiselle Doumergue was carrying all before her, and Miss Garrett and
+Miss Mary Putnam at Paris, though they were weighted in the race by a
+foreign language. Let the male English physician pass a stiff examination
+in scientific French before he brayed so loud. He had never done it yet.
+This, he said, is not an age of chimeras; it is a wise and wary age,
+which has established in all branches of learning a sure test of ability
+in man or woman--public examination followed by a public report. These
+public examinations are all conducted by males, and women are passing
+them triumphantly all over Europe and America, and graduate as doctors in
+every civilized country, and even in half-civilized Russia.
+
+"He then went into our own little preliminary examination, and gave the
+statistics: In Latin were examined 55 men and 3 women: 10 men were
+rejected, but no women; 7 men were respectable, 7 _optimi,_ or
+first-rate, 1 woman _bona,_ and 1 _optima._ In mathematics were examined
+67 men and 4 women, of whom 1 woman was _optima,_ and 1 _bona:_ 10 men
+were _optimi,_ and 25 _boni;_ the rest failed. In German 2 men were
+examined, and 1 woman: 1 man was good, and 1 woman. In logic 28 men were
+examined, and 1 woman: the woman came out fifth in rank, and she had only
+been at it a month. In moral philosophy 16 men were examined; and 1
+woman: the woman came out third. In arithmetic, 51 men and 3 women: 2 men
+were _optimi,_ and 1 woman _optima;_ several men failed, and not one
+woman. In mechanics, 81 men and 1 woman: the woman passed with fair
+credit, as did 13 men; the rest failing. In French were examined 58 men
+and 4 women: 3 men and 1 woman were respectable; 8 men and 1 woman
+passed; two women attained the highest excellence, _optimoe,_ and not one
+man. In English, 63 men and 3 women: 3 men were good, and 1 woman; but 2
+women were _optimoe,_ and only 1 man."
+
+"Fancy you remembering figures like that," said Vizard.
+
+"It is all training and habit," said she, simply.
+
+"As to the study and practice of medicine degrading women, he asked if it
+degraded men. No; it elevated them. They could not contradict him on that
+point. He declined to believe, without a particle of evidence, that any
+science could elevate the higher sex and degrade the lower. What evidence
+we had ran against it. Nurses are not, as a class, unfeminine, yet all
+that is most appalling, disgusting, horrible, and _unsexing_ in the art
+of healing is monopolized by them., Women see worse things than doctors.
+Women nurse all the patients of both sexes, often under horrible and
+sickening conditions, and lay out all the corpses. No doctor objects to
+this on sentimental grounds; and why? Because the nurses get only a
+guinea a week, and not a guinea a flying visit: to women the loathsome
+part of medicine; to man the lucrative! The noble nurses of the Crimea
+went to attend _males only,_ yet were not charged with indelicacy. They
+worked gratis. The would-be doctresses look _mainly to attending women,_
+but then they want to be paid for it: there was the rub--it was a mere
+money question, and all the attempts of the union to hide this and play
+the sentimental shop-man were transparent hypocrisy and humbug.
+
+"A doctor justly revered in Edinburgh answered him, but said nothing new
+nor effective; and, to our great joy, the majority went with us.
+
+"Thus encouraged, the university court settled the matter. We were
+admitted to matriculate and study medicine, under certain conditions, to
+which I beg your attention.
+
+"The instruction of women for the profession of medicine was to be
+conducted in separate classes confined entirely to women.
+
+"The professors of the Faculty of Medicine should, for this purpose, be
+permitted to have separate classes for women.
+
+"All these regulations were approved by the chancellor, and are to this
+day a part of the law of that university.
+
+"We ladies, five in number, but afterward seven, were matriculated and
+registered professional students of medicine, and passed six delightful
+months we now look back upon as if it was a happy dream.
+
+"We were picked women, all in earnest. We deserved respect, and we met
+with it. The teachers were kind, and we attentive and respectful: the
+students were courteous, and we were affable to them, but discreet.
+Whatever seven young women could do to earn esteem, and reconcile even
+our opponents to the experiment, we did. There was not an anti-student,
+or downright flirt, among us; and, indeed, I have observed that an
+earnest love of study and science controls the amorous frivolity of women
+even more than men's. Perhaps our heads are really _smaller_ than men's,
+and we haven't room in them to be like Solomon--extremely wise and arrant
+fools.
+
+"This went on until the first professional examination; but, after the
+examination, the war, to our consternation, recommenced. Am I, then,
+bad-hearted for thinking there must have been something in that
+examination which roused the sleeping spirit of trades-unionism?"
+
+"It seems probable."
+
+"Then view that probability by the light of fact:
+
+"In physiology the male students were 127; in chemistry, 226; 25 obtained
+honors in physiology; 31 in chemistry.
+
+"In physiology and chemistry there were five women. One obtained honors
+in physiology alone; four obtained honors in both physiology and
+chemistry.
+
+"So, you see, the female students beat the male students in physiology at
+the rate of five to one; and in chemistry, seven and three-quarters to
+one.
+
+"But, horrible to relate, one of the ladies eclipsed twenty-nine out of
+the thirty-one gentlemen who took _honors_ in chemistry. In capacity she
+surpassed them all; for the two, who were above her, obtained only two
+marks more than she did, yet they had been a year longer at the study.
+This entitled her to 'a Hope Scholarship' for that year.
+
+"Would you believe it? the scholarship was refused her--in utter defiance
+of the founder's conditions--on the idle pretext that she had studied at
+a different hour from the male students, and therefore was not a member
+of the chemistry class."
+
+"Then why admit her to the competition?" said Vizard.
+
+"Why? because the _'a priori_ reasoners took for granted she would be
+defeated. Then the cry would have been, 'You had your chance; we let you
+try for the Hope Scholarship; but you could not win it.' Having won it,
+she was to be cheated out of it somehow, or anyhow. The separate-class
+system was not that lady's fault; she would have preferred to pay the
+university lecturer lighter fees, and attend a better lecture with the
+male students. The separate class was an unfavorable condition of study,
+which the university imposed on us, as the condition of admitting us to
+the professional study of medicine? Surely, then, to cheat that lady out
+of her Hope Scholarship, when she had earned it under conditions of study
+enforced and unfavorable, was perfidious and dishonest. It was even a
+little ungrateful to the injured sex; for the money which founded these
+scholarships was women's money, every penny of it. The good Professor
+Hope had lectured to ladies fifty years ago; had taken their fees, and
+founded his scholarships with their money: and it would have done his
+heart good to see a lady win and wear that prize which, but for his
+female pupils, would never have existed. But it is easy to trample on a
+dead man: as easy as on living women.
+
+"The perfidy was followed by ruthless tyranny. They refused to admit the
+fair criminal to the laboratory, 'else,' said they, 'she'll defeat more
+men.
+
+"That killed her, as a chemist. It gave inferior male students too great
+an advantage over her. And so the public and Professor Hope were
+sacrificed to a trades-union, and lost a great analytical chemist, and
+something more--she had, to my knowledge, a subtle diagnosis. Now we have
+at present no _great_ analyst, and the few competent analysts we have do
+not possess diagnosis in proportion. They can find a few poisons in the
+dead, but they are slow to discover them in the living; so they are not
+to be counted on to save a life, where crime is administering poison.
+That woman could, and would, I think.
+
+"They drove her out of chemistry, wherein she was a genius, into surgery,
+in which she was only a talent. She is now house-surgeon in a great
+hospital, and the public has lost a great chemist and diagnostic
+physician combined.
+
+"Up to the date of this enormity, the Press had been pretty evenly
+divided for and against us. But now, to their credit, they were
+unanimous, and reprobated the juggle as a breach of public faith and
+plain morality. Backed by public opinion, one friendly professor took
+this occasion to move the university to relax the regulation of separate
+classes since it had been abused. He proposed that the female students
+should be admitted to the ordinary classes.
+
+"This proposal was negatived by 58 to 47.
+
+"This small majority was gained by a characteristic maneuver. The queen's
+name was gravely dragged in as disapproving the proposal, when, in fact,
+it could never have been submitted to her, or her comment, if any, must
+have been in writing; and as to the general question, she has never said
+a public word against medical women. She has too much sense not to ask
+herself how can any woman be fit to be a queen, with powers of life and
+death, if no woman is fit to be so small a thing, by comparison, as a
+physician or a surgeon.
+
+"We were victims of a small majority, obtained by imagination playing
+upon flunkyism, and the first result was we were not allowed to sit down
+to botany with males. Mind you, we might have gathered blackberries with
+them in umbrageous woods from morn till dewy eve, and not a professor
+shocked in the whole faculty; but we must not sit down with them to an
+intellectual dinner of herbs, and listen, in their company, to the
+pedantic terms and childish classifications of botany, in which kindred
+properties are ignored. Only the male student must be told in public that
+a fox-glove is _Digitalis purpurea_ in the improved nomenclature of
+science, and crow-foot is _Ranunculus sceleratus,_ and the buck-bean is
+_Menyanthis trifoliata,_ and mugwort is _Artemesia Judaica;_ that, having
+lost the properties of hyssop known to Solomon, we regain our superiority
+over that learned Hebrew by christening it _Gratiola officinalis._ The
+sexes must not be taught in one room to discard such ugly and
+inexpressive terms as snow-drop, meadow-sweet, heart's-ease, fever-few,
+cowslip, etc., and learn to know the cowslip as _Primula veris_--by
+class, _Pentandria monogynia;_ and the buttercup as _Ranunculus
+acnis_--_Polyandria monogynia;_ the snow-drop as _Galanthus
+nivalis_--_Hexandria monogynia;_ and the meadow-sweet as _Ulnaria;_ the
+heart's ease as _Viola tricolor;_ and the daisy as _Bellis
+perennis_--_Syngenesia superflua."_
+
+"Well," said Vizard, "I think the individual names can only hurt the jaws
+and other organs of speech. But the classification! Is the mild luster of
+science to be cast over the natural disposition of young women toward
+_Polyandria monogynia?_ Is trigamy to be identified in their sweet souls
+with floral innocence, and their victims sitting by?"
+
+"Such classifications are puerile and fanciful," said Miss Gale; "but,
+for that very reason, they don't infect _animals_ with trigamy. Novels
+are much more likely to do that."
+
+"Especially ladies' novels," suggested Vizard, meekly.
+
+"Some," suggested the accurate Rhoda. "But the sexes will never lose
+either morals or delicacy through courses of botany endured together. It
+will not hurt young ladies a bit to tell them in the presence of young
+gentlemen that a cabbage is a thalamifioral exogen, and its stamens are
+tetradynamous; nor that the mushroom, _Psalliata campestris,_ and the
+toad-stool, _Myoena campestris,_ are confounded by this science in one
+class, _Cryptogamia._ It will not even hurt them to be told that the
+properties of the _Arum maculatum_ are little known, but that the males
+are crowded round the center of the spadix, and the females seated at the
+base."
+
+Said Vizard, pompously, "The pulpit and the tea-table are centers of
+similar phenomena. Now I think of it, the pulpit is a very fair calyx,
+but the tea-table is sadly squat."
+
+"Yes, sir. But, more than that, not one of these pedants who growled at
+promiscuous botany has once objected to promiscuous dancing, not even
+with the gentleman's arm round the lady's waist, which the custom of
+centuries cannot render decent. Yet the professors of delicacy connive,
+and the Mother Geese sit smirking at the wall. Oh, world of hypocrites
+and humbugs!"
+
+"I am afraid you are an upsetter general," said Vizard. "But you are
+abominably sincere; and all this is a curious chapter of human nature.
+Pray proceed."
+
+Miss Gale nodded gravely, and resumed.
+
+"So much public ridicule fell on the union for this, and the blind
+flunkyism which could believe the queen had meddled in the detail, that
+the professors melted under it, and threw open botany and natural history
+to us, with other collateral sciences.
+
+"Then came the great fight, which is not ended yet.
+
+"To qualify for medicine and pass the stiff examination, by which the
+public is very properly protected, you must be versed in anatomy and
+clinical surgery. Books and lectures do not suffice for this, without the
+human subject--alive and dead. The university court knew that very well
+when it matriculated us, and therefore it provided for our instruction by
+promising us separate classes.
+
+"Backed by this public pledge, we waited on the university professor of
+anatomy to arrange our fees for a separate lecture. He flatly refused to
+instruct us separately for love or money, or to permit his assistants.
+That meant, 'The union sees a way to put you in a cleft stick and cheat
+you out of your degree, in spite of the pledge the university has given
+you; in spite of your fees, and of your time given to study in reliance
+on the promise.'
+
+"This was a heavy blow. But there was an extramural establishment called
+Surgeons' Hall, and the university formally recognized all the lecturers
+in this Hall; so we applied to those lecturers, and they were shocked at
+the illiberality of the university professors, and admitted us at once to
+mixed classes. We attended lectures with the male students on anatomy and
+surgery, and _of all the anticipated evils, not one took place, sir._
+
+"The objections to mixed classes proved to be idle words; yet the
+old-fashioned minds opposed to us shut their eyes and went on reasoning
+_'a priori,_ and proving that the evils which they saw did not arise
+_must_ arise should the experiment of mixed classes, which was then
+succeeding, ever he tried.
+
+"To qualify us for examination we now needed but one thing more--hospital
+practice. The infirmary is supported not so much by the university as the
+town. We applied, therefore, with some confidence, for the permission
+usually conceded to medical students. The managers refused us the _town
+infirmary._ Then we applied to the subscribers. The majority, not
+belonging to a trades-union, declared in our favor, and intimated plainly
+that they would turn out the illiberal managers at the next election of
+managers.
+
+"But by this time the war was hot and general, and hard blows dealt on
+both sides. It was artfully suppressed by our enemies in the profession
+and in the Press that we had begged hard for the separate class which had
+been promised us in anatomy, and permission to attend, by ourselves, a
+limited number of wards in the infirmary; and on this falsehood by
+suppression worse calumnies were built.
+
+"I shall tell you what we really were, and what foul mouths and pens
+insinuated we must be.
+
+"Two accomplished women had joined us, and we were now the seven wise
+virgins of a half-civilized nation, and, if I know black from white, we
+were seven of its brightest ornaments. We were seven ladies, who wished
+to be doctresses, especially devoted to our own sex; seven good students,
+who went on our knees to the university for those separate classes in
+anatomy and clinical surgery which the university was bound in honor to
+supply us; but, our prayer rejected, said to the university, 'Well, use
+your own discretion about separate or mixed classes; but for your own
+credit, and that of human nature, do not willfully tie a hangman's noose
+to throttle the weak and deserving, and don't cheat seven poor,
+hard-working, meritorious women, your own matriculated students, out of
+our entrance-fees, which lie to this day in the university coffers, out
+of the exceptionally heavy fees we have paid to your professors, out of
+all the fruit of our hard study, out of our diplomas, and our bread.
+Solve the knot your own way. We will submit to mixed classes, or
+anything, except professional destruction.'
+
+"In this spirit our lion-hearted leader wrote the letter of an uninjured
+dove, and said there were a great many more wards in the infirmary than
+any male student could or did attend; we would be content to divide the
+matter thus: the male students to have the monopoly of two-thirds, we to
+have the bare right of admission to one-third. By this the male students
+(if any) who had a sincere objection to study the sick, and witness
+operations, in our company, could never be troubled with us; and we,
+though less favored than the male students, could just manage to qualify
+for that public examination, which was to prove whether we could make
+able physicians or not.
+
+"Sir, this gentle proposal was rejected with rude scorn, and in
+aggressive terms. Such is the spirit of a trades-union.
+
+"Having now shown you what we were, I will now tell you what our enemies,
+declining to observe our conduct, though it was very public, suggested we
+_must_ be--seven shameless women, who pursued medicine as a handle for
+sexuality; who went into the dissecting-room to dissect males, and into
+the hospital to crowd round the male patient, and who _demanded_ mixed
+classes, that we might have male companions in those studies which every
+feminine woman would avoid altogether.
+
+"This key-note struck, the public was regaled with a burst of hypocrisy
+such as Moli'ere never had the luck to witness, or oh, what a comedy he
+would have written!
+
+"The immodest sex, taking advantage of Moli'ere's decease without heirs
+of his brains, set to work in public to teach the modest sex modesty.
+
+"In the conduct of this pleasant paradox, the representatives of that
+sex, which has much courage and little modesty, were two professors--who
+conducted the paradox so judiciously that the London Press reprimanded
+them for their foul insinuations--and a number of young men called
+medical students.
+
+"Now, the medical student surpasses most young men in looseness of life,
+and indecency of mind and speech.
+
+"The representatives of womanhood to be instructed in modesty by these
+animals, old and young, were seven prudes, whose minds were devoted to
+study and honorable ambition. These women were as much above the average
+of their sex in feminine reserve and independence of the male sex as they
+were in intellect.
+
+"The average girl, who throughout this discussion was all of a sudden
+puffed as a lily, because she ceased to be _observed,_ can attend to
+nothing if a man is by; she can't work, she can't play, she is so eaten
+up with sexuality. The frivolous soul can just manage to play croquet
+with females; but, enter a man upon the scene, and she does even that
+very ill, and can hardly be got to take her turn in the only thing she
+has really given her mind to. We were angels compared with this paltry
+creature, and she was the standing butt of public censure, until it was
+found that an imaginary picture of her could be made the handle for
+insulting her betters.
+
+"Against these seven prudes, decent dotards and their foul-mouthed allies
+flung out insinuations which did not escape public censure; and the
+medical students declared their modesty was shocked at our intrusion into
+anatomy and surgery, and petitioned against us. Some of the Press were
+deceived by this for a time, and _hurlaient avec les loups._
+
+"I took up, one day, my favorite weekly, in which nearly every writer
+seems to me a scholar, and was regaled with such lines as these:
+
+"'It appears that girls are to associate with boys as medical students,
+in order that, when they become women, they may be able to speak to men
+with entire plainness upon all the subjects of a doctor's daily practice.
+
+"'In plain words, the aspirants to medicine and surgery desire to rid
+themselves speedily and effectually of that modesty which nature has
+planted in women.' And then the writer concludes: 'We beg to suggest that
+there are other places besides dissecting-rooms and hospitals where those
+ladies may relieve themselves of the modesty which they find so
+troublesome. But fathers naturally object to this being done at their
+sons' expense."
+
+"Infamous!" cried Vizard. "One comfort, no man ever penned that. That is
+some old woman writing down young ones."
+
+"I don't know," said Rhoda. "I have met so many womanish men in this
+business. All I know is, that my cheeks burned, and, for once in the
+fight, scalding tears ran down them. It was as if a friend had spat upon
+me.
+
+"What a chimera! What a monstrous misinterpretation of pure minds by
+minds impure! To _us_ the dissecting-room was a temple, and the dead an
+awe, revolting to all our senses, until the knife revealed to our minds
+the Creator's hand in structural beauties that the trained can
+appreciate, if wicked dunces can't.
+
+"And as to the infirmary, we should have done just what we did at Zurich.
+We held a little aloof from the male patients, unless some good-natured
+lecturer, or pupil, gave us a signal, and then we came forward. If we
+came uninvited, we always stood behind the male students: but we did
+crowd round the beds of the female patients, and claimed the inner row:
+AND, SIR, THEY THANKED GOD FOR US OPENLY.
+
+"A few awkward revelations were made during this discussion. A medical
+student had the candor to write and say that he had been at a lecture,
+and the professor had told an indelicate story, and, finding it palatable
+to his modest males, had said, 'There, gentlemen: now, if female students
+were admitted here, I could not have told you this amusing circumstance.'
+So that it was our purifying influence he dreaded in secret, though he
+told the public he dreaded the reverse.
+
+"Again, female patients wrote to the journals to beg that female students
+might be admitted to come between them and the brutal curiosity of the
+male students, to which they were subjected in so offensive a way that
+more than one poor creature declared she had felt agonies of shame, even
+in the middle of an agonizing operation.
+
+"This being a cry from that public for whose sake the whole clique of
+physicians--male and female--exists, had, of course, no great weight in
+the union controversy.
+
+"But, sir, if grave men and women will sit calmly down and fling dirt
+upon every woman who shall aspire to medicine in an island, though she
+can do so on a neighboring continent with honor, and choose their time
+when the dirt can only fall on seven known women--since the female
+students in that island are only seven--the pretended generality becomes
+a cowardly personality, and wounds as such, and excites less
+cold-hearted, and more hot-headed blackguards to outrage. It was so at
+Philadelphia, and it was so at Edinburgh.
+
+"Our extramural teacher in anatomy was about to give a competitive
+examination. Now, on these occasions, we were particularly obnoxious.
+Often and clearly as it had been proved, by _'a priori_ reasoning, that
+we _must_ be infinitely inferior to the average male, we persisted in
+proving, by hard fact, that we were infinitely his superior; and every
+examination gave us an opportunity of crushing solid reasons under hollow
+fact.
+
+"A band of medical students determined that for once _'a priori_
+reasoning should have fair play, and not be crushed by a thing so
+illusory as fact. Accordingly, they got the gates closed, and collected
+round them. We came up, one after another, and were received with hisses,
+groans, and abusive epithets.
+
+"This mode of reasoning must have been admirably adapted to my weak
+understanding; for it convinced me at once I had no business there, and I
+was for private study directly.
+
+"But, sir, you know the ancients said, 'Better is an army of stags with a
+lion for their leader, than an army of lions with a stag for their
+leader.' Now, it so happened that we had a lioness for our leader. She
+pushed manfully through the crowd, and hammered at the door: then we
+crept quaking after. She ordered those inside to open the gates; and some
+student took shame, and did. In marched our lioness, crept after by
+her--her--"
+
+"Her cubs."
+
+"A thousand thanks, good sir. Her does. On second thoughts, 'her hinds.'
+Doe is the female of buck. Now, I said stags. Well, the ruffians who had
+undertaken to teach us modesty swarmed in too. They dragged a sheep into
+the lecture-room, lighted pipes, produced bottles, drank, smoked, and
+abused us ladies to our faces, and interrupted the lecturer at intervals
+with their howls and ribaldry: that was intended to show the professor he
+should not be listened to any more if he admitted the female students.
+The affair got wind, and other students, not connected with medicine,
+came pouring in, with no worse motive, probably, than to see the lark.
+Some of these, however, thought the introduction of the sheep unfair to
+so respected a lecturer, and proceeded to remove her; but the professor
+put up his hand, and said, 'Oh, don't remove _her:_ she is superior in
+intellect to many persons here present.'
+
+"At the end of the lecture, thinking us in actual danger from these
+ruffians, he offered to let us out by a side door; but our lioness stood
+up and said, in a voice that rings in my ear even now, 'Thank you, sir;
+no. There are _gentlemen_ enough here to escort us safely.'
+
+"The magic of a great word from a great heart, at certain moments when
+minds are heated! At that word, sir, the scales fell from a hundred eyes;
+manhood awoke with a start, ay, and chivalry too; fifty manly fellows
+were round us in a moment, with glowing cheeks and eyes, and they carried
+us all home to our several lodgings in triumph. The cowardly caitiffs of
+the trades-union howled outside, and managed to throw a little dirt upon
+our gowns, and also hurled epithets, most of which were new to me; but it
+has since been stated by persons more versed in the language of the
+_canaille_ that no fouler terms are known to the dregs of mankind.
+
+"Thus did the immodest sex, in the person of the medical student, outrage
+seven fair samples of the modest sex--to teach them modesty.
+
+"Next morning the police magistrates dealt with a few of our teachers,
+inflicted severe rebukes on them, and feeble fines.
+
+"The craftier elders disowned the riot in public, but approved it in
+private; and continued to act in concert with it, only with cunning, not
+violence. _It caused no honest revulsion of feeling,_ except in the
+disgusted public, and they had no power to help us.
+
+"The next incident was a stormy debate by the subscribers to the
+infirmary; and here we had a little feminine revenge, which, outraged as
+we had been, I hope you will not grudge us.
+
+"Our lioness subscribed five pounds, and became entitled to vote and
+speech. As the foulest epithets had been hurled at her by the union, and
+a certain professor had told her, to her face, no respectable woman would
+come to him and propose to study medicine, she said, publicly, that she
+had come to his opinion, and respectable women would avoid him--which
+caused a laugh.
+
+"She also gave a venerable old physician, our bitter opponent, a slap
+that was not quite so fair. His attendant had been concerned in that
+outrage, and she assumed--in which she was not justified--that the old
+doctor approved. 'To be sure,' said she, 'they say he was intoxicated,
+and that is the only possible excuse.'
+
+"The old doctor had only to say that he did not control his assistants in
+the street; and his own mode of conducting the opposition, and his long
+life of honor, were there to correct this young woman's unworthy
+surmises, and she would have had to apologize for going too far on mere
+surmise. But, instead of that, he was so injudicious as to accuse her of
+foul language, and say, 'My attendant is a perfect gentleman; he would
+not be my attendant if he were not.'
+
+"Our lioness had him directly. 'Oh,' said she, 'if Dr. So-and-so prefers
+to say that his attendant committed that outrage on decency when in his
+sober senses, I am quite content.'
+
+"This was described as violent invective by people with weak memories,
+who had forgotten the nature of the outrage our lioness was commenting
+on; but in truth it was only superior skill in debate, with truth to back
+it.
+
+"For my part, I kept the police report at the time, and have compared it
+with her speech. The judicial comments on those rioters are far more
+severe than hers. The truth is it was her facts that hit too hard, not
+her expressions.
+
+"Well, sir, she obtained a majority; and those managers of the infirmary
+who objected to female students were dismissed, and others elected. At
+the same meeting the Court of Contributors passed a statute, making it
+the law of the infirmary that students should be admitted without regard
+to sex.
+
+"But as to the mere election of managers, the other party demanded a
+scrutiny of the votes, and instructive figures came out. There voted with
+us twenty-eight firms, thirty-one ladies, seven doctors.
+
+"There voted with the union fourteen firms, two ladies, _thirty-seven
+doctors,_ and three _druggists._
+
+"Thereupon the trades-union, as declared by the figures, alleged that
+firms ought not to vote. _Nota bene,_ they always had voted unchallenged
+till they voted for fair play to women.
+
+"The union served the provost with an interdict not to declare the new
+managers elected.
+
+"We applied for our tickets under the new statute, but were impudently
+refused, under the plea that the managers must first be consulted: so did
+the servants of the infirmary defy the masters in order to exclude us.
+
+"By this time the great desire of women to practice medicine had begun to
+show itself. Numbers came in and matriculated; and the pressure on the
+authorities to keep faith, and relax the dead-lock they had put us in,
+was great.
+
+"Thereupon the authorities, instead of saying, 'We have pledged ourselves
+to a great number of persons, and pocketed their fees,' took fright, and
+cast about for juggles. They affected to discover all of a sudden that
+they had acted illegally in matriculating female students. They would,
+therefore, not give back their fees, and pay them two hundred pounds
+apiece for breach of contract, but detain their fees and stop their
+studies until compelled by judicial decision to keep faith. Observe, it
+was under advice of the lord-justice-general they had matriculated us,
+and entered into a contract with us, _for fulfilling which it was not,
+and is not, in the power of any mortal man to punish them._
+
+"But these pettifoggers said this: _'We_ have acted illegally, and
+therefore not we, but _you,_ shall suffer: _we_ will _profit_ by our
+illegal act, for we will cheat you out of your fees to the university and
+your fees to its professors, as well as the seed-time of your youth that
+we have wasted.'
+
+"Now, in that country they can get the opinions of the judges by raising
+what they call an action of declarator.
+
+"One would think it was their business to go to the judges, and meantime
+give us the benefit of the legal doubt, while it lasted, and of the moral
+no-doubt, which will last till the day of judgment, and a day after.
+
+"Not a bit of it. They deliberately broke their contract with us, kept
+our fees, and cheated us out of the article we had bought of them,
+disowned all sense of morality, yet shifted the burden of law on to our
+shoulders. Litigation is long. Perfidy was in possession. Possession is
+nine points. The female students are now sitting with their hands before
+them, juggled out of their studies, in plain defiance of justice and
+public faith, waiting till time shall show them whether provincial
+lawyers can pettifog as well as trades-union doctors.
+
+"As for me, I had retired to civilized climes long before this. I used to
+write twice a week to my parents, but I withheld all mention of the
+outrage at Surgeons' Hall. I knew it would give them useless pain. But in
+three weeks or so came a letter from my father, unlike any other I ever
+knew him to write. It did not even begin, 'My dear child.' This was what
+he said (the words are engraved in my memory): 'Out of that nation of
+cowards and skunks! out of it this moment, once and forever! The States
+are your home. Draft on London inclosed. Write to me from France next
+week, or write to me no more. Graduate in France. Then come North, and
+sail from Havre to New York. You have done with Britain, and so have I,
+till our next war. Pray God that mayn't be long!'
+
+"It was like a lion's roar of anguish. I saw my dear father's heart was
+bursting with agony and rage at the insult to his daughter, and I shed
+tears for him those wretches had never drawn from me.
+
+"I had cried at being insulted by scholars in the Press; but what was it
+to me that the scum of the medical profession, which is the scum of God's
+whole creation, called me words I did not know the meaning of, and flung
+the dirt of their streets, and the filth of their souls, after me? I was
+frightened a little, that is all. But that these reptiles could wound my
+darling old lion's heart across the ocean! Sir, he was a man who could be
+keen and even severe with men, but every virtuous woman was a sacred
+thing to him. Had he seen one, though a stranger, insulted as we were, he
+would have died in her defense. He was a true American. And to think the
+dregs of mankind could wound him for his daughter, and so near the end of
+his own dear life. Oh!" She turned her head away.
+
+"My poor girl!" said Vizard, and his own voice was broken.
+
+When he said that, she gave him her hand, and seemed to cling to his a
+little; but she turned her head away from him and cried, and even
+trembled a little.
+
+But she very soon recovered herself, and said she would try to end her
+story. It had been long enough.
+
+"Sir, my father had often obeyed me; but now I knew I must obey him. I
+got testimonials in Edinburgh, and started South directly. In a week I
+was in the South of France. Oh, what a change in people's minds by mere
+change of place! The professors received me with winning courtesy; some
+hats were lifted to me in the street, with marked respect; flowers were
+sent to my lodgings by gentlemen who never once intruded, on me in
+person. I was in a civilized land. Yet there was a disappointment for me.
+I inquired for Cornelia. The wretch had just gone and married a
+professor. I feared she was up to no good, by her writing so seldom of
+late.
+
+"I sent her a line that an old friend had returned, and had not forgotten
+her, nor our mutual vows.
+
+"She came directly, and was for caressing away her crime, and dissolving
+it in crocodile tears; but I played the injured friend and the tyrant.
+
+"Then she curled round me, and coaxed, and said, 'Sweetheart, I can
+advance your interests all the better. You shall be famous for us both. I
+shall be happier in your success than in my own.'
+
+"In short, she made it very hard to hold spite; and it ended in
+feeble-minded embraces. Indeed, she _was_ of service to me. I had a favor
+to ask: I wanted leave to count my Scotch time in France.
+
+"My view was tenable; and Cornelia, by her beauty and her popularity,
+gained over all the professors to it but one. He stood out.
+
+"Well, sir, an extraordinary occurrence befriended me; no, not
+extraordinary--unusual.
+
+"I lodged on a second floor. The first floor was very handsome. A young
+Englishman and his wife took it for a week. She was musical--a real
+genius. The only woman I ever heard sing without whining; for we are, by
+nature, the medical and unmusical sex."
+
+"So you said before."
+
+"I know I did; and I mean to keep saying it till people see it. Well, the
+young man was taken violently and mysteriously ill; had syncope after
+syncope, and at last ceased to breathe.
+
+"The wife was paralyzed, and sat stupefied, and the people about feared
+for her reason.
+
+"After a time they begged me to come down and talk to her. Of course I
+went. I found her with her head upon his knees. I sat down quietly, and
+looked at him. He was young and beautiful, but with a feminine beauty;
+his head finely shaped, with curly locks that glittered in the sun, and
+one golden lock lighter than the rest; his eyes and eyelashes, his oval
+face, his white neck, and his white hand, all beautiful. His left hand
+rested on the counterpane. There was an emerald ring on one finger. He
+was like some beautiful flower cut down. I can see him now.
+
+"The woman lifted her head and saw me. She had a noble face, though now
+distorted and wild.
+
+"She cried, 'Tell me he is not dead! tell me he is not dead!' and when I
+did not reply, the poor creature gave a wild cry, and her senses left
+her. We carried her into another room.
+
+"While the women were bringing her to, an official came to insist on the
+interment taking place. They are terribly expeditious in the South of
+France.
+
+"This caused an altercation, and the poor lady rushed out; and finding
+the officer peremptory, flung her arms round the body, and said they
+should not be parted--she would be buried with him.
+
+"The official was moved, but said the law was strict, and the town must
+conduct the funeral unless she could find the sad courage to give the
+necessary instructions. With this he was going out, inexorable, when all
+of a sudden I observed something that sent my heart into my mouth, and I
+cried 'Arretez!' so loud that everybody stared.
+
+"I said, 'You must wait till a physician has seen him; he has moved a
+finger.'
+
+"I stared at the body, and they all stared at me.
+
+"He _had_ moved a finger. When I first saw him, his fingers were all
+close together; but now the little finger was quite away from the third
+finger--the one with the ring on.
+
+"I felt his heart, and found a little warmth about it, but no perceptible
+pulse. I ordered them to take off his sheet and put on blankets, but not
+to touch him till I came back with a learned physician. The wife embraced
+me, all trembling, and promised obedience. I got a _fiacre_ and drove to
+Dr. Brasseur, who was my hostile professor, but very able. I burst on
+him, and told him I had a case of catalepsy for him--it wasn't catalepsy,
+you know, but physicians are fond of Greek; they prefer the wrong Greek
+word to the right English. So I called it 'catalepsy,' and said I
+believed they were going to bury a live man. He shrugged his shoulders,
+and said that was one of the customs of the country. He would come in an
+hour. I told him that would not do, the man would be in his coffin; he
+must come directly. He smiled at my impetuosity, and yielded.
+
+"I got him to the patient. He examined him, and said he might be alive,
+but feared the last spark was going out. He dared not venture on
+friction. We must be wary.
+
+"Well, we tried this stimulant and that, till at last we got a sigh out
+of the patient; and I shall not forget the scream of joy at that sigh,
+which made the room ring, and thrilled us all.
+
+"By-and-by I was so fortunate as to suggest letting a small stream of
+water fall from a height on his head and face. We managed that, and
+by-and-by were rewarded with a sneeze.
+
+"I think a sneeze must revivify the brain wonderfully, for he made rapid
+progress, and then we tried friction, and he got well very quick. Indeed,
+as he had nothing the matter with him, except being dead, he got
+ridiculously well, and began paying us fulsome compliments, the doctor
+and me.
+
+"So then we handed him to his joyful wife.
+
+"They talk of crying for joy, as if it was done every day. I never saw it
+but once, and she was the woman. She made a curious gurgle; but it was
+very pretty. I was glad to have seen it, and very proud to be the cause."
+
+The next day that pair left. He was English and so many good-natured
+strangers called on him that he fled swiftly, and did not even bid me
+good-by. However, I was told they both inquired for me, and were sorry I
+was out when they went.
+
+"How good of them!" said Vizard, turning red.
+
+"Oh, never mind, sir; I made use of _him._ I scribbled an article that
+very day, entitled it, 'While there's life there's hope,' and rushed with
+it to the editor of a journal. He took it with delight. I wrote it _'a la
+Francaise:_ picture of the dead husband, mourning wife, the impending
+interment; effaced myself entirely, and said the wife had refused to bury
+him until Dr. Brasseur, whose fame had reached her ears, had seen the
+body. To humor her, the doctor was applied to, and, his benevolence being
+equal to his science, he came: when, lo! a sudden surprise; the swift,
+unerring eye of science detected some subtle sign that had escaped the
+lesser luminaries. He doubted the death. He applied remedies; he
+exhausted the means of his art, with little avail at first, but at last a
+sigh was elicited, then a sneeze; and, marvelous to relate, in one hour
+the dead man was sitting up, not convalescent, but well. I concluded with
+some reflections on this _most important case of suspended animation_
+very creditable to the profession of medicine, and Dr. Brasseur."
+
+"There was a fox!"
+
+"Well, look at my hair. What else could you expect? I said that before,
+too.
+
+"My notice published, I sent it to the doctor, with my respects, but did
+not call on him. However, one day he met me, and greeted me with a low
+bow. 'Mademoiselle,' said he, 'you were always a good student; but now
+you show the spirit of a _confr'ere,_ and so gracefully, that we are all
+agreed we must have you for one as soon as possible.'
+
+"I courtesied, and felt my face red, and said I should be the proudest
+woman in France.
+
+"'Grand Dieu,' said he, 'I hope not; for your modesty is not the least of
+your charms.'
+
+"So, the way was made smooth, and I had to work hard, and in about
+fourteen months I was admitted to my final examination. It was a severe
+one, but I had some advantages. Each nation has its wisdom, and I had
+studied in various schools.
+
+"Being a linguist, with a trained memory, I occasionally backed my
+replies with a string of French, German, English, and Italian authorities
+that looked imposing.
+
+"In short, I did pass with public applause and cordial felicitation; they
+quite _fe'ted_ me. The old welcomed me; the young escorted me home and
+flung flowers over me at my door. I reappeared in the balcony, and said a
+few words of gratitude to them and their noble nation. They cheered, and
+dispersed.
+
+"My heart was in a glow. I turned my eyes toward New York: a fortnight
+more, and my parents should greet me as a European doctress, if not a
+British.
+
+"The excitement had been too great; I sunk, a little exhausted, on the
+sofa. They bought me a letter. It was black-edged. I tore it open with a
+scream. My father was dead."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+"I WAS prostrated, stupefied. I don't know what I did, or how long I sat
+there. But Cornelia came to congratulate me, and found me there like
+stone, with the letter in my hand. She packed up my clothes, and took me
+home with her. I made no resistance. I seemed all broken and limp, soul
+and body, and not a tear that day.
+
+"Oh, sir, how small everything seems beside bereavement! My troubles, my
+insults, were nothing now; my triumph nothing; for I had no father left
+to be proud of it with me.
+
+"I wept with anguish a hundred times a day. Why had I left New York? Why
+had I not foreseen this every-day calamity, and passed every precious
+hour by his side I was to lose?
+
+"Terror seized me. My mother would go next. No life of any value was safe
+a day. Death did not wait for disease. It killed because it chose, and to
+show its contempt of hearts.
+
+"But just as I was preparing to go to Havre, they brought me a telegram.
+I screamed at it, and put up my hands. I said 'No, no;' I would not read
+it, to be told my mother was dead. I would have her a few minutes longer.
+Cornelia read it, and said it was from her. I fell on it, and kissed it.
+The blessed telegram told she was coming home. I was to go to London and
+wait for her.
+
+"I started. Cornelia paid my fees, and put my diploma in my box. _I_
+cared for nothing now but my own flesh and blood--what was left of it--my
+mother.
+
+"I reached London, and telegraphed my address to my mother, and begged
+her to come at once and ease my fears. I told her my funds were
+exhausted; but, of course, that was not the thing I poured out my heart
+about; so I dare say she hardly realized my deplorable
+condition--listless and bereaved, alone in a great city, with no money.
+
+"In her next letter she begged me to be patient. She had trouble with her
+husband's executors; she would send me a draft as soon as she could; but
+she would not leave, and let her child be robbed.
+
+"By-and-by the landlady pressed me for money. I gave her my gowns and
+shawls to sell for me."
+
+"Goose!"
+
+"And just now I was a fox."
+
+"You are both. But so is every woman."
+
+"She handed me a few shillings, by way of balance. I lived on them till
+they went. Then I starved a little."
+
+"With a ring on your finger you could have pawned for ten guineas!"
+
+"Pawn my ring! My father gave it me." She kissed it tenderly, yet, to
+Vizard, half defiantly.
+
+"Pawning is not selling, goose!" said he, getting angry.
+
+"But I must have parted with it."
+
+"And you preferred to _starve?"_
+
+"I preferred to starve," said she, steadily.
+
+He looked at her. Her eyes faced his. He muttered something, and walked
+away, three steps to hide unreasonable sympathy. He came back with a
+grand display of cheerfulness. "Your mother will be here next month,"
+said he, "with money in both pockets. Meantime I wish you would let me
+have a finger in the pie--or, rather my sister. She is warm-hearted and
+enthusiastic; she shall call on you, if you will permit it."
+
+"Is she like you?"
+
+"Not a bit. We are by different mothers. Hers was a Greek, and she is a
+beautiful, dark girl."
+
+"I admire beauty; but is she like you--in--in--disposition?"
+
+"Lord! no; very superior. Not abominably clever like you, but absurdly
+good. You shall judge for yourself. Oblige me with your address."
+
+The doctress wrote her address with a resigned air, as one who had found
+somebody she had to obey; and, as soon as he had got it, Vizard gave her
+a sort of nervous shake of the hand, and seemed almost in a hurry to get
+away from her. But this was his way.
+
+She would have been amazed if she had seen his change of manner the
+moment he got among his own people.
+
+He burst in on them, crying, "There--the prayers of this congregation are
+requested for Harrington Vizard, saddled with a virago."
+
+"Saddled with a virago!" screamed Fanny.
+
+"Saddled with a--!" sighed Zoe, faintly.
+
+"Saddled with a virago FOR LIFE!" shouted Vizard, with a loud defiance
+that seemed needless, since nobody was objecting violently to his being
+saddled.
+
+"Look here!" said he, descending all of a sudden to a meek, injured air,
+which, however, did not last very long, "I was in the garden of Leicester
+Square, and a young lady turned faint. I observed it, and, instead of
+taking the hint and cutting, I offered assistance--off my guard, as
+usual. She declined. I persisted; proposed a glass of wine, or spirit.
+She declined, but at last let out she was starving."
+
+"Oh!" cried Zoe.
+
+"Yes, Zoe--starving. A woman more learned, more scientific, more
+eloquent, more offensive to a fellow's vanity, than I ever saw, or even
+read of--a woman of _genius,_ starving, like a genius and a ninny, with a
+ring on her finger worth thirty guineas. But my learned goose would not
+raise money on that, because it was her father's, and he is dead."
+
+"Poor thing!" said Zoe, and her eyes glistened directly.
+
+"It _is_ hard, Zoe, isn't it? She is a physician--an able physician; has
+studied at Zurich and at Edinburgh, and in France, and has a French
+diploma; but must not practice in England, because we are behind the
+Continent in laws and civilization--so _she_ says, confound her
+impudence, and my folly for becoming a woman's echo! But if I were to
+tell you her whole story, your blood would boil at the trickery, and
+dishonesty, and oppression of the trades-union which has driven this
+gifted creature to a foreign school for education; and, now that a
+foreign nation admits her ability and crowns her with honor, still she
+must not practice in this country, because she is a woman, and we are a
+nation of half-civilized men. That is _her_ chat, you understand, not
+mine. We are not obliged to swallow all that; but, turn it how you will,
+here are learning, genius, and virtue starving. We must get her to accept
+a little money; that means, in her case, a little fire and food. Zoe,
+shall that woman go to bed hungry to-night?"
+
+"No, never!" said Zoe, warmly. "'Let me think. Offer her a _loan."_
+
+"Well done; that is a good idea. Will _you_ undertake it? She will be far
+more likely to accept. She is a bit of a prude and all, is my virago."
+
+"Yes, dear, she will. Order the carriage. She shall not go to bed
+hungry--nobody shall that you are interested in."
+
+"Oh, after dinner will do."
+
+Dinner was ordered immediately, and the brougham an hour after.
+
+At dinner, Vizard gave them all the outline of the Edinburgh struggle,
+and the pros and cons; during which narrative his female hearers might
+have been observed to get cooler and cooler, till they reached the zero
+of perfect apathy. They listened in dead silence; but when Harrington had
+done, Fanny said aside to Zoe, "It is all her own fault. What business
+have women to set up for doctors?"
+
+"Of course not," said Zoe; "only we must not say so. He indulges _us_ in
+our whims."
+
+Warm partisan of immortal justice, when it was lucky enough to be backed
+by her affections, Miss Vizard rose directly after dinner, and, with a
+fine imitation of ardor, said she could lose no more time--she must go
+and put on her bonnet. "You will come with me, Fanny?"
+
+When I was a girl, or a boy--I forget which, it is so long ago--a young
+lady thus invited by an affectionate friend used to do one of two things;
+nine times out of ten she sacrificed her inclination, and went; the
+tenth, she would make sweet, engaging excuses, and beg off. But the girls
+of this day have invented "silent volition." When you ask them to do
+anything they don't quite like, they look you in the face, bland but
+full, and neither speak nor move. Miss Dover was a proficient in this
+graceful form of refusal by dead silence, and resistance by placid
+inertia. She just looked like the full moon in Zoe's face, and never
+budged. Zoe, being also a girl of the day, needed no interpretation. "Oh,
+very well," said she, "disobliging thing!"--with perfect good humor, mind
+you.
+
+Vizard, however, was not pleased.
+
+"You go with her, Ned," said he. "Miss Dover prefers to stay and smoke a
+cigar with me."
+
+Miss Dover's face reddened, but she never budged. And it ended in Zoe
+taking Severne with her to call on Rhoda Gale.
+
+Rhoda Gale stayed in the garden till sunset, and then went to her
+lodgings slowly, for they had no attraction--a dark room; no supper; a
+hard landlady, half disposed to turn her out.
+
+Dr. Rhoda Gale never reflected much in the streets; they were to her a
+field of minute observation; but, when she got home she sat down and
+thought over what she had been saying and doing, and puzzled over the
+character of the man who had relieved her hunger and elicited her
+autobiography. She passed him in review; settled in her mind that he was
+a strong character; a manly man, who did not waste words; wondered a
+little at the way he had made her do whatever he pleased; blushed a
+little at the thought of having been so communicative; yet admired the
+man for having drawn her out so; and wondered whether she should see him
+again. She hoped she should. But she did not feel sure.
+
+She sat half an hour thus--with one knee raised a little, and her hands
+interlaced--by a fire-place with a burned-out coal in it; and by-and-by
+she felt hungry again. But she had no food, and no money.
+
+She looked hard at her ring, and profited a little by contact with the
+sturdy good sense of Vizard.
+
+She said to herself, "Men understand one another. I believe father would
+be angry with me for not."
+
+Then she looked tenderly and wistfully at the ring, and kissed it, and
+murmured, "Not to-night." You see she hoped she might have a letter in
+the morning, and so respite her ring.
+
+Then she made light of it, and said to herself, "No matter; 'qui dort,
+dine.'"
+
+But as it was early for bed, and she could not be long idle, sipping no
+knowledge, she took up the last good German work that she had bought when
+she had money, and proceeded to read. She had no candle, but she had a
+lucifer-match or two, and an old newspaper. With this she made long
+spills, and lighted one, and read two pages by that paper torch, and
+lighted another before it was out, and then another, and so on in
+succession, fighting for knowledge against poverty, as she had fought for
+it against perfidy.
+
+While she was thus absorbed, a carriage drew up at the door. She took no
+notice of that; but presently there was a rustling of silk on the stairs,
+and two voices, and then a tap at the door. "Come in," said she; and Zoe
+entered just as the last spill burned out.
+
+Rhoda Gale rose in a dark room; but a gas-light over the way just showed
+her figure. "Miss Gale?" said Zoe, timidly.
+
+"I am Miss Gale," said Rhoda, quietly, but firmly.
+
+"I am Miss Vizard--the gentleman's sister that you met in Leicester
+Square to-day;" and she took a cautious step toward her.
+
+Rhoda's cheeks burned.
+
+"Miss Vizard," she said, "excuse my receiving you so; but you may have
+heard I am very poor. My last candle is gone. But perhaps the landlady
+would lend me one. I don't know. She is very disobliging, and very
+cruel."
+
+"Then she shall not have the honor of lending you a candle," said Zoe,
+with one of her gushes. "Now, to tell the truth," said she, altering to
+the cheerful, "I'm rather glad. I would rather talk to you in the dark
+for a little, just at first. May I?" By this time she had gradually crept
+up to Rhoda.
+
+"I am afraid you _must,"_ said Rhoda. "But at least I can offer you a
+seat."
+
+Zoe sat down, and there was an awkward silence.
+
+"Oh, dear," said Zoe; "I don't know how to begin. I wish you would give
+me your hand, as I can't see your face."
+
+"With all my heart: there."
+
+(Almost in a whisper) "He has told me."
+
+Rhoda put the other hand to her face, though it was so dark.
+
+"Oh, Miss Gale, how _could_ you? Only think! Suppose you had killed
+yourself, or made yourself very ill. Your mother would have come directly
+and found you so; and only think how unhappy you would have made her."
+
+"Can I have forgotten my mother?" asked Rhoda of herself, but aloud.
+
+"Not willfully, I am sure. But you know geniuses are not always wise in
+these little things. They want some good humdrum soul to advise them in
+the common affairs of life. That want is supplied you now; for _I_ am
+here--ha-ha!"
+
+"You are no more commonplace than I am; much less now, I'll be bound."
+
+"We will put that to the test," said Zoe, adroitly enough. _"My_ view of
+all this is--that here is a young lady in want of money _for a time,_ as
+everybody is now and then, and that the sensible course is to borrow some
+till your mother comes over with her apronful of dollars. Now, I have
+twenty pounds to lend, and, if you are so mighty sensible as you say, you
+won't refuse to borrow it."
+
+"Oh, Miss Vizard, you are very good; but I am afraid and ashamed to
+borrow. I never did such a thing."
+
+"Time you began, then. _I_ have--often. But it is no use arguing. You
+_must--_or you will get poor me finely scolded. Perhaps he was on his
+good behavior with you, being a stranger; but at home they expect to be
+obeyed. He will be sure to say it was my stupidity, and that _he_ would
+have made you directly."
+
+"Do tell!" cried Rhoda, surprised into an idiom; "as if I'd have taken
+money from _him!"_
+
+"Why, of course not; but between _us_ it is nothing at all. There:" and
+she put the money into Rhoda's hand, and then held both hand and money
+rather tightly imprisoned in her larger palm, and began to chatter, so as
+to leave the other no opening. "Oh, blessed darkness! how easy it makes
+things! does it not? I am glad there was no candle; we should have been
+fencing and blushing ever so long, and made such a fuss about
+nothing--and--"
+
+This prattle was interrupted by Rhoda Gale putting her right wrist round
+Zoe's neck, and laying her forehead on her shoulder with a little sob. So
+then they both distilled the inevitable dew-drops.
+
+But as Rhoda was not much given that way, she started up, and said,
+"Darkness? No; I must see the face that has come here to help me, and not
+humiliate me. That is the first use I'll make of the money. I am afraid
+you are rather plain, or you couldn't be so good as all this."
+
+"No," said Zoe. "I'm not reckoned plain; only as black as a coal."
+
+"All the more to my taste," said Rhoda, and flew out of the room, and
+nearly stumbled over a figure seated on a step of the staircase. "Who are
+you?" said she, sharply.
+
+"My name is Severne."
+
+"And what are you doing there?"
+
+"Waiting for Miss Vizard."
+
+"Come in, then."
+
+"She told me not."
+
+"Then I tell you _to._ The idea! Miss Vizard!"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"Please have Mr. Severne in. Here he is sitting--like Grief--on the
+steps. I will soon be back."
+
+She flew to the landlady. "Mrs. Grip, I want a candle."
+
+"Well, the shops are open," said the woman, rudely.
+
+"Oh, I have no time. Here is a sovereign. Please give me two candles
+directly, candlesticks and all."
+
+The woman's manner changed directly.
+
+"You shall have them this moment, miss, and my own candlesticks, which
+they are plated."
+
+She brought them, and advised her only to light one. "They don't carry
+well, miss," said she. "They are wax--or summat."
+
+"Then they are summat," said Miss Gale, after a single glance at their
+composition.
+
+"I'll make you a nice hot supper, miss, in half an hour," said the woman,
+maternally, as if she were going to _give_ it her.
+
+"No, thank you. Bring me a two-penny loaf, and a scuttle of coals."
+
+"La, miss, no more than that--out of a sov'?"
+
+"Yes--THE CHANGE."
+
+Having shown Mrs. Grip her father was a Yankee, she darted upstairs, with
+her candles. Zoe came to meet her, and literally dazzled her.
+
+Rhoda stared at her with amazement and growing rapture. "Oh, you beauty!"
+she cried, and drank her in from head to foot.
+
+"Well," said she, drawing a long breath, "Nature, you have turned out a
+_com-_plete article this time, I reckon." Then, as Severne laughed
+merrily at this, she turned her candle and her eyes full on him very
+briskly. She looked at him for a moment, with a gratified eye at his
+comeliness; then she started. "Oh!" she cried.
+
+He received the inspection merrily, till she uttered that ejaculation,
+then he started a little, and stared at her.
+
+"We have met before," said she, almost tenderly.
+
+"Have we?" said he, putting on a mystified air.
+
+She fixed him, and looked him through and through.
+"You--don't--remember--me?" asked she. Then, after giving him plenty of
+time to answer, "Well, then, I must be mistaken;" and her words seemed to
+freeze themselves and her as they fell.
+
+She turned her back on him, and said to Zoe, with a good deal of
+sweetness and weight, "I have lived to see goodness and beauty united. I
+will never despair of human nature."
+
+This was too pointblank for Zoe; she blushed crimson, and said archly, "I
+think it is time for me to run. Oh, but I forgot; here is my card. We are
+all at that hotel. If I am so very attractive, you will come and see
+me--we leave town very soon--will you?"
+
+"I will," said Rhoda.
+
+"And since you took me for an old acquaintance, I hope you will treat me
+as one," said Severne, with consummate grace and assurance.
+
+"I will, _sir,"_ said she, icily, and with a marvelous curl of the lip
+that did not escape him.
+
+She lighted them down the stairs, gazed after Zoe, and ignored Severne
+altogether.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+GOING home in the carriage, Zoe was silent, but Severne talked nineteen
+to the dozen. Had his object been to hinder his companion's mind from
+dwelling too long on one thing, he could not have rattled the dice of
+small talk more industriously. His words would fill pages; his topics
+were, that Miss Gale was an extraordinary woman, but too masculine for
+his taste, and had made her own troubles setting up doctress, when her
+true line was governess--for boys. He was also glib and satirical upon
+that favorite butt, a friend.
+
+"Who but a _soi-disant_ woman-hater would pick up a strange virago and
+send his sister to her with twenty pounds? I'll tell you what it is, Miss
+Vizard--"
+
+Here Miss Vizard, who had sat dead silent under a flow of words, which is
+merely indicated above, laid her hand on his arm to stop the flux for a
+moment, and said, quietly, _"Do_ you know her? tell me."
+
+"Know her! How should I?"
+
+"I thought you might have met her--abroad."
+
+"Well, it is possible, of course, but very unlikely. If I did, I never
+spoke to her, or I should have remembered her. _Don't you think so?"_
+
+"She seemed very positive; and I think she is an accurate person. She
+seemed quite surprised and mortified when you said 'No.'"
+
+"Well, you know, of course it is a mortifying thing when a lady claims a
+gentleman's acquaintance, and the gentleman doesn't admit it. But what
+could I do? I couldn't tell a lie about it--could I?"
+
+"Of course not."
+
+"I was off my guard, and rudish; but you were not. What tact! what
+delicacy! what high breeding and angelic benevolence! And so clever,
+too!"
+
+"Oh, fie! you listened!"
+
+"You left the door ajar, and I could not bear to lose a word that dropped
+from those lips so near me. Yes, I listened, and got such a lesson as
+only a noble, gentle lady could give. I shall never forget your womanly
+art, and the way you contrived to make the benefaction sound nothing. 'We
+are all of us at low water in turns, and for a time, especially me, Zoe
+Vizard; so here's a trifling loan.' A loan! you'll never see a shilling
+of it again! No matter. What do angels want of money?"
+
+"Oh, pray," said Zoe, "you make me blush!"
+
+"Then I wish there was more light to see it--yes, an angel. Do you think
+I can't see you have done all this for a lady you do not really approve?
+Fancy--a she doctor!"
+
+"My dear friend," said Zoe, with a little juvenile pomposity, "one ought
+not to judge one's intellectual superiors hastily, and this lady is
+ours"--then, gliding back to herself, "and it is my nature to approve
+what those I love approve--when it is not downright wrong, you know."
+
+"Oh, of course it is not wrong; but is it wise?"
+
+Zoe did not answer: the question puzzled her.
+
+"Come," said he, "I'll be frank, and speak out in time. I don't think you
+know your brother Harrington. He is very inflammable."
+
+"Inflammable! What! Harrington? Well, yes; for I've seen smoke issue from
+his mouth--ha! ha!"
+
+"Ha! ha! I'll pass that off for mine, some day when you are not by. But,
+seriously, your brother is the very man to make a fool of himself with a
+certain kind of woman. He despises the whole sex--in theory, and he is
+very hard upon ordinary women, and does not appreciate their good
+qualities. But, when he meets a remarkable woman, he catches fire like
+tow. He fell in love with Mademoiselle Klosking."
+
+"Oh, not in love!"
+
+"I beg your pardon. Now, this is between you and me--he was in love with
+her, madly in love. He was only saved by our coming away. If those two
+had met and made acquaintance, he would have been at her mercy. I don't
+say any harm would have come of it; but I do say that would have depended
+on the woman, and not on the man."
+
+Zoe looked very serious, and said nothing. But her long silence showed
+him his words had told.
+
+"And now," said he, after a judicious pause, "here is another remarkable
+woman; the last in the world I should fancy, or Vizard either, perhaps,
+if he met her in society. But the whole thing occurs in the way to catch
+him. He finds a lady fainting with hunger; he feeds her; and that softens
+his heart to her. Then she tells him the old story--victim of the world's
+injustice--and he is deeply interested in her. She can see that; she is
+as keen as a razor. If those two meet a few more times, he will be at her
+mercy; and then won't she throw physic to the dogs, and jump at a husband
+six feet high, and twelve thousand acres! I don't study women with a
+microscope, as our woman-hater does, but I notice a few things about
+them; and one is, that their eccentricities all give way at the first
+offer of marriage. I believe they are only adopted in desperation, to get
+married. What beautiful woman is ever eccentric? catch her! she can get a
+husband without. That doctress will prescribe Harrington a wedding-ring;
+and, if he swallows it, it will be her last prescription. She will send
+out for the family doctor after that, like other wives."
+
+"You alarm me," said Zoe. "Pray do not make me unjust. This is a lady
+with a fine mind, and, not a designing woman."
+
+"Oh, I don't say she has laid any plans; but these things are always
+extemporized the moment the chance comes. You can count beforehand on the
+instinct of every woman who is clever and needy, and on Vizard's peculiar
+weakness for women out of the common. He is hard upon the whole sex; but
+he is no match for individuals. He owned as much himself to me one day.
+You are not angry with me!"
+
+"No, no. Angry with _you?"_
+
+"It is you I think of in all this. He is a fine fellow, and you are proud
+of him. I wouldn't have him marry to mortify you. For myself, while the
+sister honors me with her regard, I really don't much care who has the
+brother and the acres. I have the best of the bargain."
+
+Zoe disputed this--in order to make him say it several times.
+
+He did, and proved it in terms that made her cheeks red with modesty and
+gratified pride; and by the time they had got home, he had flattered
+everything but pride, love, and happiness out of her heart, poor girl.
+
+The world is like the Law, full of implied contracts: we give and take,
+without openly agreeing to. Subtle Severne counted on this, and was not
+disappointed. Zoe rewarded him for his praises, and her happiness, by
+falling into his views about Rhoda Gale. Only she did it in her own
+lady-like way, and not plump.
+
+She came up to Harrington and kissed him, and said, "Thank you, dear, for
+sending me on a good errand. I found her in a very mean apartment,
+without fire or candle."
+
+"I thought as much," said Vizard.
+
+"Did she take the money?"
+
+"Yes--as a loan."
+
+"Make any difficulties?"
+
+"A little, dear."
+
+Severne put in his word. "Now, if you want to know all the tact and
+delicacy with which it was done, you must come to me; for Miss Vizard is
+not going to give you any idea of it."
+
+"Be quiet, sir, or I shall be very angry. I lent her the money, dear, and
+her troubles are at an end; for her mother will certainly join her before
+she has spent your twenty pounds. Oh! and she had not parted with her
+ring; that is a comfort, is it not?"
+
+"You are a good-hearted girl, Zoe," said Vizard, approvingly; then,
+recovering himself, "But don't you be blinded by sentiment. She deserves
+a good hiding for not parting with her ring. Where is the sense of
+starving, with thirty pounds on your finger?"
+
+Zoe smiled, and said his words were harder than his deeds.
+
+"Because he doesn't mean a word he says," put in Fanny Dover, uneasy at
+the long cessation of her tongue, for all conversation with Don Cigar had
+proved impracticable.
+
+"Are you there still, my Lady Disdain?" said Vizard. "I thought you were
+gone to bed."
+
+"You might well think that. I had nothing to keep me up."
+
+Said Zoe, rather smartly, "Oh, yes, you had--Curiosity;" then, turning to
+her brother, "In short, you make your mind quite easy. You have lent your
+money, or given it, to a worthy person, but a little wrong-headed.
+However"--with a telegraphic glance at Severne--"she is very
+accomplished; a linguist: she need never be in want; and she will soon
+have her mother to help her and advise her. Perhaps Mrs. Gale has an
+income; if not, Miss Gale, with her abilities, will easily find a place
+in some house of business, or else take to teaching. If I was them, I
+would set up a school."
+
+Unanimity is rare in this world; but Zoe's good sense carried every vote.
+Her prompter, Severne, nodded approval. Fanny said, "Why, of course;" and
+Vizard, who it was feared might prove refractory, assented even more
+warmly than the others. "Yes," said he, "that will be the end of it. You
+relieve me of a weight. Really, when she told me that fable of learning
+maltreated, honorable ambition punished, justice baffled by trickery, and
+virtue vilified, and did not cry like the rest of you, except at her
+father dying in New York the day she won her diploma at Montpelier, I
+forgave the poor girl her petticoats; indeed, I lost sight of them. She
+seemed to me a very brave little fellow, damnably ill used, and I said,
+'This is not to be borne. Here is a fight, and justice down under dirty
+feet.' What, ho!" (roaring at the top of his voice).
+
+_Zoe and Fanny_ (screaming, and pinching Ned Severne right and left).
+"Ah! ah!"
+
+"Vizard to the rescue!"
+
+"But, with the evening, cool reflection came. A sister, youthful, but
+suddenly sagacious (with a gleam of suspicion), very suddenly has stilled
+the waves of romance, and the lips of beauty have uttered common sense.
+Shall they utter it in vain? Never! It may be years before they do it
+again. We must not slight rare phenomena. Zoe _locuta est--_Eccentricity
+must be suppressed. Doctresses, warned by a little starvation, must take
+the world as it is, and teach little girls and boys languages, and physic
+them with arithmetic and the globes: these be drugs that do not kill;
+they only make life a burden. I don't think we have laid out our twenty
+pounds badly, Zoe, and there is an end of it. The incident is emptied, as
+the French say, and (lighting bed-candles) the ladies retire with the
+honors of war. Zoe has uttered good sense, and Miss Dover has done the
+next best thing; she has said very little--"
+
+Miss Dover shot in contemptuously, "I had no companion--"
+
+--"For want of a fool to speak her mind to."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+INGENIOUS Mr. Severne having done his best to detach the poor doctress
+from Vizard and his family, in which the reader probably discerns his
+true motive, now bent his mind on slipping back to Homburg and looking
+after his money. Not that he liked the job. To get hold of it, he knew he
+must condense rascality; he must play the penitent, the lover, and the
+scoundrel over again, all in three days.
+
+Now, though his egotism was brutal, he was human in this, that he had
+plenty of good nature skin-deep, and superficial sensibilities, which
+made him shrink a little from this hot-pressed rascality and barbarity.
+On the other hand, he was urged by poverty, and, laughable as it may
+appear, by jealousy. He had observed that the best of women, if they are
+not only abandoned by him they love, but also flattered and adored by
+scores, will some times yield to the joint attacks of desolation, pique,
+vanity, etc.
+
+In this state of fluctuation he made up his mind so far as this: he would
+manage so as to be able to go.
+
+Even this demanded caution. So he began by throwing out, in a seeming
+careless way, that he ought to go down into Huntingdonshire.
+
+"Of course you ought," said Vizard.
+
+No objection was taken, and they rather thought he would go next day. But
+that was not his game. It would never do to go while they were in London.
+So he kept postponing, and saying he would not tear himself away; and at
+last, the day before they were to go down to Barfordshire, he affected to
+yield to a remonstrance of Vizard, and said he would see them off, and
+then run down to Huntingdonshire, look into his affairs, and cross the
+country to Barfordshire.
+
+"You might take Homburg on the way," said Fanny, out of fun--_her_
+fun--not really meaning it.
+
+Severne cast a piteous look at Zoe. "For shame, Fanny!" said she. "And
+why put Homburg into his head?"
+
+"When I had forgotten there was such a place," said Mr. Severne, taking
+his cue dexterously from Zoe, and feigning innocent amazement. Zoe
+colored with pleasure. This was at breakfast. At afternoon tea something
+happened. The ladies were upstairs packing, an operation on which they
+can bestow as many hours as the thing needs minutes. One servant brought
+in the tea; another came in soon after with a card, and said it was for
+Miss Vizard; but he brought it to Harrington. He read it:
+
+"MISS RHODA GALE, M.D."
+
+"Send it up to Miss Vizard," said he. The man was going out: he stopped
+him, and said, "You can show the lady in here, all the same."
+
+Rhoda Gale was ushered in. She had a new gown and bonnet, not showy, but
+very nice. She colored faintly at sight of the two gentlemen; but Vizard
+soon put her at her ease. He shook hands with her, and said, "Sit down,
+Miss Gale; my sister will soon be here. I have sent your card up to her."
+
+"Shall I tell her?" said Severne, with the manner of one eager to be
+agreeable to the visitor.
+
+"If you please, sir," said Miss Gale.
+
+Severne went out zealously, darted up to Zoe's room, knocked, and said,
+"Pray come down: here is that doctress."
+
+Meantime, Jack was giving Gill the card, and Gill was giving it Mary to
+give to the lady. It got to Zoe's room in a quarter of an hour.
+
+
+"Any news from mamma?" asked Vizard, in his blunt way.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Good news?"
+
+"No. My mother writes me that I must not expect her. She has to fight
+with a dishonest executor. Oh, money, money!"
+
+At that moment Zoe entered the room, but Severne paced the landing. He
+did not care to face Miss Gale; and even in that short interval of time
+he had persuaded Zoe to protect her brother against this formidable young
+lady, and shorten the interview if she could.
+
+So Zoe entered the room bristling with defense of her brother. At sight
+of her, Miss Gale rose, and her features literally shone with pleasure.
+This was rather disarming to one so amiable as Zoe, and she was surprised
+into smiling sweetly in return; but still her quick, defensive eye drank
+Miss Gale on the spot, and saw, with alarm, the improvement in her
+appearance. She was very healthy, as indeed she deserved to be; for she
+was singularly temperate, drank nothing but water and weak tea without
+sugar, and never eat nor drank except at honest meals. Her youth and pure
+constitution had shaken off all that pallor, and the pleasure of seeing
+Zoe lent her a lovely color. Zoe microscoped her in one moment: not one
+beautiful feature in her whole face; eyes full of intellect, but not in
+the least love-darting; nose, an aquiline steadily reversed; mouth,
+vastly expressive, but large; teeth, even and white, but ivory, not
+pearl; chin, ordinary; head symmetrical, and set on with grace. I may
+add, to complete the picture, that she had a way of turning this head,
+clean, swift, and birdlike, without turning her body. That familiar
+action of hers was fine--so full of fire and intelligence.
+
+Zoe settled in one moment that she was downright plain, but might
+probably be that mysterious and incomprehensible and dangerous creature,
+"a gentleman's beauty," which, to women, means no beauty at all, but a
+witch-like creature, that goes and hits foul, and eclipses real
+beauty--dolls, to wit--by some mysterious magic.
+
+"Pray sit down," said Zoe, formally. Rhoda sat down, and hesitated a
+moment. She felt a frost.
+
+Vizard helped her, "Miss Gale has heard from her mother."
+
+"Yes, Miss Vizard," said Rhoda, timidly; "and very bad news. She cannot
+come at present; and I am so distressed at what I have done in borrowing
+that money of you; and see, I have spent nearly three pounds of it in
+dress; but I have brought the rest back."
+
+Zoe looked at her brother, perplexed.
+
+"Stuff and nonsense!" said Vizard. "You will not take it, Zoe."
+
+"Oh, yes; if you please, do," said Rhoda still to Zoe. "When I borrowed
+it, I felt sure I could repay it; but it is not so now. My mother says it
+may be months before she can come, and she forbids me positively to go to
+her. Oh! but for that, I'd put on boy's clothes, and go as a common
+sailor to get to her."
+
+Vizard fidgeted on his chair.
+
+"I suppose I mustn't go in a passion," said he, dryly.
+
+"Who cares?" said Miss Gale, turning her head sharply on him in the way I
+have tried to describe.
+
+"I care," said Vizard. "I find wrath interfere with my digestion. Please
+go on, and tell us what your mother says. She has more common sense than
+somebody else I won't name--politeness forbids."
+
+"Well, who doubts that?" said the lady, with frank good humor. "Of course
+she has more sense than any of us. Well, my mother says--oh, Miss
+Vizard!"
+
+"No, she doesn't now. She never heard the name of Vizard."
+
+Miss Gale was in no humor for feeble jokes. She turned half angrily away
+from him to Zoe. "She says I have been well educated, and know languages;
+and we are both under a cloud, and I had better give up all thought of
+medicine, and take to teaching."
+
+"Well, Miss Gale," said Zoe, "if you ask _me,_ I must say I think it is
+good advice. With all your gifts, how can you fight the world? We are all
+interested in you here; and it is a curious thing, but do you know we
+agreed the other day you would have to give up medicine, and fall into
+some occupation in which there are many ladies already to keep you in
+countenance. Teaching was mentioned, I think; was it not, Harrington?"
+
+Rhoda Gale sighed deeply.
+
+"I am not surprised," said she. "Most women of the world think with you.
+But oh, Miss Vizard, please take into account all that I have done and
+suffered for medicine! Is all that to go for _nothing?_ Think what a
+bitter thing it must be to do, and then to undo; to labor and study, and
+then knock it all down--to cut a slice out of one's life, out of the very
+heart of it--and throw it clean away. I know it is hard for you to enter
+into the feelings of any one who loves science, and is told to desert it.
+But suppose you had loved a _man_ you were proud of--loved him for five
+years--and then they came to you and said, 'There are difficulties in the
+way; he is as worthy as ever, and he will never desert _you;_ but you
+must give _him_ up, and try and get a taste for human rubbish: it will
+only be five years of wasted life, wasted youth, wasted seed-time, wasted
+affection, and then a long vegetable life of unavailing regrets.' I love
+science as other women love men. If I am to give up science, why not die?
+Then I shall not feel my loss; and I know how to die without pain. Oh,
+the world is cruel! Ah! I am too unfortunate! Everybody else is rewarded
+for patience, prudence, temperance, industry, and a life with high and
+almost holy aims; but I am punished, afflicted, crushed under the
+injustice of the day. Do not make me a nurse-maid. I _won't_ be a
+governess; and I must not die, because that would grieve my mother. Have
+pity on me! have pity!"
+
+She trembled all over, and stretched out her hands to Zoe with truly
+touching supplication.
+
+Zoe forgot her part, or lost the power to play it well. She turned her
+head away and would not assent; but two large tears rolled out of her
+beautiful eyes. Miss Gale, who had risen in the ardor of her appeal, saw
+that, and it set her off. She leaned her brow against the mantel-piece,
+not like a woman, but a brave boy, that does not want to be seen crying,
+and she faltered out, "In France I am a learned physician; and here to be
+a house-maid! For I won't live on borrowed money. I am very unfortunate."
+
+Severne, who had lost patience, came swiftly in, and found them in this
+position, and Vizard walking impatiently about the room in a state of
+emotion which he was pleased to call anger.
+
+Zoe, in a tearful voice, said, "I am unable to advise you. It is very
+hard that any one so deserving should be degraded."
+
+Vizard burst out, "It is harder the world should be so full of
+conventional sneaks; and that I was near making one of them. The last
+thing we ever think of, in this paltry world, is justice, and it ought to
+be the first. Well, for once I've got the power to be just, and just I'll
+be, by God! Come, leave off sniveling, you two, and take a lesson in
+justice--from a beginner: converts are always the hottest, you know. Miss
+Gale, you shall not be driven out of science, and your life and labor
+wasted. You shall doctor Barfordshire, and teach it English, too, if any
+woman can. This is the programme. I farm two hundred
+acres--_vicariously,_ of course. Nobody in England has brains to do
+anything _himself._ That weakness is confined to your late father's
+country, and they suffer for it by outfighting, outlying, outmaneuvering,
+outbullying, and outwitting us whenever we encounter them. Well, the
+farmhouse is large. The bailiff has no children. There is a wing
+furnished, and not occupied. You shall live there, with the right of
+cutting vegetables, roasting chickens, sucking eggs, and riding a couple
+of horses off their legs."
+
+"But what am I to do for all that?"
+
+"Oh, only the work of two men. You must keep my house in perfect health.
+The servants have a trick of eating till they burst. You will have to sew
+them up again. There are only seven hundred people in the village. You
+must cure them all; and, if you do, I promise you their lasting
+ingratitude. Outside the village, you must make them pay--_if you can._
+We will find you patients of every degree. But whether you will ever get
+any fees out of them, this deponent sayeth not. However, I can answer for
+the _ladies_ of our county, that they will all cheat you--if they can."
+
+Miss Gale's color came and went, and her eyes sparkled. "Oh, how good you
+are! Is there a hospital?"
+
+"County hospital, and infirmary, within three miles. Fine country for
+disease. Intoxication prevalent, leading to a bountiful return of
+accidents. I promise you wounds, bruises, and putrefying sores, and
+everything to make you comfortable."
+
+"Oh, don't laugh at me. I am so afraid I shall--no, I hope I shall not
+disgrace you. And, then, it is against the law; but I don't mind that."
+
+"Of course not. What is the law to ladies with elevated views? By-the-by,
+what is the penalty--six months?"
+
+"Oh, no. Twenty pounds. Oh, dear! another twenty pounds!"
+
+"Make your mind easy. Unjust laws are a dead letter on a soil so
+primitive as ours. I shall talk to Uxmoor and a few more, and no
+magistrate will ever summons you, nor jury convict you, in Barfordshire.
+You will be as safe there as in Upper Canada. Now then--attend. We leave
+for Barfordshire to-morrow. You will go down on the first of next month.
+By that time all will be ready: start for Taddington, eleven o'clock. You
+will be met at the Taddington Station, and taken to your farmhouse. You
+will find a fire ten days old, and, for once in your life, young lady,
+you will find an aired bed; because my man Harris will be house-maid, and
+not let one of your homicidal sex set foot in the crib."
+
+Miss Gale looked from Vizard to his sister, like a person in a dream. She
+was glowing with happiness; but it did not spoil her. She said, humbly
+and timidly, "I hope I may prove worthy."
+
+"That is _your_ business," said Vizard, with supreme indifference; "mine
+is to be just. Have a cup of tea?"
+
+"Oh, no, thank you; and it will be a part of my duty to object to
+afternoon tea. But I am afraid none of you will mind me."
+
+After a few more words, in which Severne, seeing Vizard was in one of his
+iron moods, and immovable as him of Rhodes, affected now to be a partisan
+of the new arrangement, Miss Gale rose to retire. Severne ran before her
+to the door, and opened it, as to a queen. She bowed formally to him as
+she went out. When she was on the other side the door, she turned her
+head in her sharp, fiery way, and pointed with her finger to the emerald
+ring on his little finger, a very fine one. "Changed hands," said she:
+"it was on the third finger of your left hand when we met last;" and she
+passed down the stairs with a face half turned to him, and a cruel smile.
+
+Severne stood fixed, looking after her; cold crept among his bones: he
+was roused by a voice above him saying, very inquisitively, "What does
+she say?" He looked up, and it was Fanny Dover leaning over the balusters
+of the next landing. She had evidently seen all, and heard some. Severne
+had no means of knowing how much. His heart beat rapidly. Yet he told
+her, boldly, that the doctress had admired his emerald ring: as if to
+give greater force to this explanation, he took it off, and showed it
+her, very amicably. He calculated that she could hardly, at that
+distance, have heard every syllable, and, at the same time, he was sure
+she had seen Miss Gale point at the ring.
+
+"Hum!" said Fanny; and that was all she said.
+
+Severne went to his own room to think. He was almost dizzy. He dreaded
+this Rhoda Gale. She was incomprehensible, and held a sword over his
+head. Tongues go fast in the country. At the idea of this keen girl and
+Zoe Vizard sitting under a tree for two hours, with nothing to do but
+talk, his blood ran cold. Surely Miss Gale must hate him. She would not
+always spare him. For once he could not see his way clear. Should he tell
+her half the truth, and throw himself on her mercy? Should he make love
+to her? Or what should he do? One thing he saw clear enough: he must not
+quit the field. Sooner or later, all would depend on his presence, his
+tact, and his ready wit.
+
+He felt like a man who could not swim, and wades in deepening water. He
+must send somebody to Homburg, or abandon all thought of his money. Why
+abandon it? Why not return to Ina Klosking? His judgment, alarmed at the
+accumulating difficulties, began to intrude its voice. What was he
+turning his back on? A woman, lovely, loving, and celebrated, who was
+very likely pining for him, and would share, not only her winnings at
+play with him, but the large income she would make by her talent. What
+was he following? A woman divinely lovely and good, but whom he could not
+possess, or, if he did, could not hold her long, and whose love must end
+in horror.
+
+But nature is not so unfair to honest men as to give wisdom to the
+cunning. Rarely does reason prevail against passion in such a mind as
+Severne's. It ended, as might have been expected, in his going down to
+Vizard Court with Zoe.
+
+An express train soon whirled them down to Taddington, in Barfordshire.
+There was Harris, with three servants, waiting for them, one with a light
+cart for their luggage, and two with an open carriage and two spanking
+bays, whose coats shone like satin. The servants, liveried, and
+top-booted, and buckskin-gloved, and spruce as if just out of a bandbox,
+were all smartness and respectful zeal. They got the luggage out in a
+trice, with Harris's assistance. Mr. Harris then drove away like the wind
+in his dog-cart; the traveling party were soon in the barouche. It glided
+away, and they rolled on easy springs at the rate of twelve miles an hour
+till they came to the lodge-gate. It was opened at their approach, and
+they drove full half a mile over a broad gravel path, with rich grass on
+each side, and grand old patriarchs, oak and beech, standing here and
+there, and dappled deer, grazing or lying, in mottled groups, till they
+came to a noble avenue of lofty lime-trees, with stems of rare size and
+smoothness, and towering piles on piles of translucent leaves, that
+glowed in the sun like flakes of gold.
+
+At the end of this avenue was seen an old mansion, built of that
+beautiful clean red brick--which seems to have died out--and white-stone
+facings and mullions, with gables and oriel windows by the dozen; but
+between the avenue and the house was a large oval plot of turf, with a
+broad gravel road running round it; and attached to the house, but thrown
+a little back, were the stables, which formed three sides of a good-sized
+quadrangle, with an enormous clock in the center. The lawn,
+kitchen-garden, ice-houses, pineries, green houses, revealed themselves
+only in peeps as the carriage swept round the spacious plot and drew up
+at the hall door.
+
+No ringing of bells nor knocking. Even as the coachman tightened his
+reins, the great hall door was swung open, and two footmen appeared.
+Harris brought up a rear-guard, and received the party in due state.
+
+A double staircase, about ten feet broad, rose out of the hall, and up
+this Mr. Harris conducted Severne, the only stranger, into a bedroom with
+a great oriel window looking west.
+
+"This is your room, sir," said he. "Shall I unpack your things when they
+come?"
+
+Severne assented, and that perfect major-domo informed him that luncheon
+was ready, and retired cat-like, and closed the door so softly no sound
+was heard.
+
+Mr. Severne looked about him, and admitted to himself that, with all his
+experiences of life, this was his first bedroom. It was of great size, to
+begin. The oriel window was twenty feet wide, and had half a dozen
+casements, each with rose-colored blinds, though some of them needed no
+blinds, for green creepers, with flowers like clusters of grapes, curled
+round the mullions, and the sun shone mellowed through their leaves.
+Enormous curtains of purple cloth, with cold borders, hung at each side
+in mighty folds, to be drawn at night-time when the eye should need
+repose from feasting upon color.
+
+There were three brass bedsteads in a row, only four feet broad, with
+spring-beds, hair mattresses a foot thick, and snowy sheets for
+coverlets, instead of counter-panes; so that, if you were hot, feverish,
+or sleepless in one bed, you might try another, or two.
+
+Thick carpets and rugs, satin-wood wardrobes, prodigious wash-hand
+stands, with china backs four feet high. Towel-horses, nearly as big as a
+donkey, with short towels, long towels, thick towels, thin towels,
+bathing sheets, etc.; baths of every shape; and cans of every size; a
+large knee-hole table; paper and envelopes of every size. In short, a
+room to sleep in, study in, live in, and stick fast in, night and day.
+
+But what is this? A Gothic arch, curtained with violet merino. He draws
+the curtain. It is an ante-room. One half of it is a bathroom, screened,
+and paved with encaustic tiles that run up the walls, so you may splash
+to your heart's content. The rest is a studio, and contains a choice
+little library of well-bound books in glass cases, a piano-forte, and a
+harmonium. Severne tried them; they were both in perfect tune. Two
+clocks, one in each room, were also in perfect time. Thereat he wondered.
+But the truth is, it was a house wherein precision reigned: a tuner and a
+clockmaker visited by contract every month.
+
+This, and two more guest-chambers, and the great dining-hall, were built
+under the Plantagenets, when all large landowners entertained kings and
+princes with their retinues. As to that part of the house which was built
+under the Tudors, there are hundreds of country houses as important, only
+Mr. Severne had not been inside them, and was hardly aware to what
+perfection rational luxury is brought in the houses of our large landed
+gentry. He sat down in an antique chair of enormous size; the back went
+higher than his head, the seat ran out as far as his ankle, when seated;
+there was room in it for two, and it was stuffed--ye gods, how it was
+stuffed! The sides, the back, and the seat were all hair mattresses, a
+foot thick at least. Here nestled our sybarite; with the sun shining
+through leaves, and splashing his beautiful head with golden tints and
+transparent shadows, and felt in the temple of comfort, and incapable of
+leaving it alive.
+
+He went down to luncheon. It was distinguishable from dinner in this,
+that they all got up after it, and Zoe said, "Come with me, children."
+
+Fanny and Severne rose at the word. Vizard said he felt excluded from
+that invitation, having cut his wise-teeth; so he would light a cigar
+instead; and he did. Zoe took the other two into the kitchen garden--four
+acres, surrounded with a high wall, of orange-red brick, full of little
+holes where the nails had been. Zoe, being now at home, and queen, wore a
+new and pretty deportment. She was half maternal, and led her friend and
+lover about like two kids. She took them to this and that fruit tree, set
+them to eat, and looked on, superior. By way of climax, she led them to
+the south wall, crimson with ten thousand peaches and nectarines; she
+stepped over the border, took superb peaches and nectarines from the
+trees, and gave them with her own hand to Fanny and Severne. The head
+gardener glared in dismay at the fair spoliator. Zoe observed him, and
+laughed. "Poor Lucas," said she; "he would like them all to hang on the
+tree till they fell off with a wasp inside. Eat as many as ever you can,
+young people; Lucas is amusing."
+
+"I never had peaches enough off the tree before," said Fanny.
+
+"No more have I," said Severne. "This must be the Elysian fields, and I
+shall spoil my dinner."
+
+"Who cares?" said Fanny, recklessly. "Dinner comes every day, and always
+at the only time when one has no appetite. But this eating of
+peaches--Oh, what a beauty!"
+
+"Children," said Zoe, gravely, "I advise you not to eat above a dozen. Do
+not enter on a fatal course, which in one brief year will reduce you to a
+hapless condition. There--I was let loose among them at sixteen, and ever
+since they pall. But I do like to see you eat them, and your eyes
+sparkle."
+
+"That is too bad of you," said Fanny, driving her white teeth deep into a
+peach. "The idea! Now, Mr. Severne, do my eyes sparkle?"
+
+"Like diamonds. But that proves nothing: it is their normal condition."
+
+"There, make him a courtesy," said Zoe, "and come along."
+
+She took them into the village. It was one of the old sort; little
+detached houses with little gardens in front, in all of which were a few
+humble flowers, and often a dark rose of surpassing beauty. Behind each
+cottage was a large garden, with various vegetables, and sometimes a few
+square yards of wheat. There was one little row of new brick houses
+standing together; their number five, their name Newtown. This town of
+five houses was tiled; the detached houses were thatched, and the walls
+plastered and whitewashed like snow. Such whitewash seems never to be
+made in towns, or to lose its whiteness in a day. This broad surface of
+vivid white was a background, against which the clinging roses, the
+clustering, creeping honeysuckles, and the deep young ivy with its tender
+green and polished leaves, shone lovely; wood smoke mounted, thin and
+silvery, from a cottage or two, that were cooking, and embroidered the
+air, not fouled it. The little windows had diamond panes, as in the
+Middle Ages, and every cottage door was open, suggesting hospitality and
+dearth of thieves. There was also that old essential, a village green--a
+broad strip of sacred turf, that was everybody's by custom, though in
+strict law Vizard's. Here a village cow and a donkey went about grazing
+the edges, for the turf in general was smooth as a lawn. By the side of
+the green was the village ale-house. After the green other cottages; two
+of them
+
+     "Quite overcanopied with lush woodbine,
+     With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine."
+
+One of these was called Marks's cottage, and the other Allen's. The
+rustic church stood in the middle of a hill nearly half a mile from the
+village. They strolled up to it. It had a tower built of flint, and clad
+on two sides with ivy three feet deep, and the body of the church was as
+snowy as the cottages, and on the south side a dozen swallows and martins
+had lodged their mortar nests under the eaves; they looked, against the
+white, like rugged gray stone bosses. Swallows and martins innumerable
+wheeled, swift as arrows, round the tower, chirping, and in and out of
+the church through an open window, and added their music and their motion
+to the beauty of the place.
+
+Returning from the church to the village, Miss Dover lagged behind, and
+then Severne infused into his voice those tender tones, which give
+amorous significance to the poorest prose.
+
+"What an Arcadia!" said he.
+
+"You would not like to be banished to it," said Zoe, demurely.
+
+"That depends," said he, significantly. Instead of meeting him half way
+and demanding an explanation, Zoe turned coy and fell to wondering what
+Fanny was about.
+
+"Oh, don't compel her to join us," said Severne. "She is meditating."
+
+"On what? She is not much given that way."
+
+"On her past sins; and preparing new ones."
+
+"For shame! She is no worse than we are. Do you really admire Islip?"
+
+"Indeed I do, if this is Islip?"
+
+"It is then; and this cottage with the cluster-rose tree all over the
+walls is Marks's cottage. We are rather proud of Marks's cottage," said
+she, timidly.
+
+"It is a bower," said he, warmly.
+
+This encouraged Zoe, and she said, "Is there not a wonderful charm in
+cottages? I often think I should like to live in Marks's. Have you ever
+had that feeling?"
+
+"Never. But I have it now. I should like to live in it--with you."
+
+Zoe blushed like a rose, but turned it off. "You would soon wish yourself
+back again at Vizard Court," said she. "Fanny--Fanny!" and she stood
+still.
+
+Fanny came up. "Well, what is the matter now?" said she, with pert, yet
+thoroughly apathetic, indifference.
+
+"The matter is--extravagances. Here is a man of the world pretending he
+would like to end his days in Marks's cottage."
+
+"Stop a bit. It was to be with somebody I loved. And wouldn't you, Miss
+Dover?"
+
+"Oh dear, no. We should be sure to quarrel, cooped up in such a mite of a
+place. No; give me Vizard Court, and plenty of money, and the man of my
+heart."
+
+"You have not got one, I'm afraid," said Zoe, "or you would not put him
+last."
+
+"Why not? when he is of the last importance," said Fanny, flippantly, and
+turned the laugh her way.
+
+They strolled through the village together, but in the grounds of Vizard
+Court Fanny fairly gave them the slip. Severne saw his chance, and said,
+tenderly, "Did you hear what she said about a large house being best for
+lovers?"
+
+"Yes, I heard her," said Zoe, defensively; "but very likely she did not
+mean it. That young lady's words are air. She will say one thing one day
+and another the next."
+
+"I don't know. There is one thing every young lady's mind is made up
+about, and that is, whether it is to be love or money."
+
+"She was for both, if I remember," said Zoe, still coldly.
+
+"Because she is not in love."
+
+"Well, I really believe she is not--for once."
+
+"There, you see. She is in an unnatural condition."
+
+"For her, very."
+
+"So she is no judge. No; I should prefer Marks's cottage. The smaller the
+better; because then the woman I love could not ever be far from me."
+
+He lowered his voice, and drove the insidious words into her tender
+bosom. She began to tremble and heave, and defend herself feebly.
+
+"What have I to do with that? You mustn't."
+
+"How can I help it? You know the woman I love--I adore--and would not the
+smallest cottage in England be a palace if I was blessed with her sweet
+love and her divine company? Oh, Zoe, Zoe!"
+
+Then she did defend herself, after a fashion: "I won't listen to
+such--Edward!" Having uttered his name with divine tenderness, she put
+her hands to her blushing face, and fled from him. At the head of the
+stairs she encountered Fanny, looking satirical. She reprimanded her.
+
+"Fanny," said she, "you really must not do _that"_--[pause]--"out of our
+own grounds. Kiss me, darling. I am a happy girl." And she curled round
+Fanny, and panted on her shoulder.
+
+
+Miss Artful, known unto men as Fanny Dover, had already traced out in her
+own mind a line of conduct, which the above reprimand, minus the above
+kisses, taken at their joint algebraical value, did not disturb. The fact
+is, Fanny hated home; and liked Vizard Court above all places. But she
+was due at home, and hanging on to the palace of comfort by a thread. Any
+day her mother, out of natural affection and good-breeding, might write
+for her; and unless one of her hosts interfered, she should have to go.
+But Harrington went for nothing in this, unfortunately. His hospitality
+was unobtrusive, but infinite. It came to him from the Plantagenets
+through a long line of gentlemen who shone in vices; but inhospitality
+was unknown to the whole chain, and every human link in it. He might very
+likely forget to invite Fanny Dover unless reminded; but, when she was
+there, she was welcome to stay forever if she chose. It was all one to
+him. He never bothered himself to amuse his guests, and so they never
+bored him. He never let them. He made them at home; put his people and
+his horses at their service; and preserved his even tenor. So, then, the
+question of Fanny's stay lay with Zoe; and Zoe would do one of two
+things: she would either say, with well-bred hypocrisy, she ought not to
+keep Fanny any longer from her mother--and so get rid of her; or would
+interpose, and give some reason or other. What that reason would be,
+Fanny had no precise idea. She was sure it would not be the true one; but
+there her insight into futurity and females ceased. Now, Zoe was
+thoroughly fascinated by Severne, and Fanny saw it; and yet Zoe was too
+high-bred a girl to parade the village and the neighborhood with him
+alone--and so placard her attachment--before they were engaged, and the
+engagement sanctioned by the head of the house. This consideration
+enabled Miss Artful to make herself necessary to Zoe. Accordingly, she
+showed, on the very first afternoon, that she was prepared to play the
+convenient friend, and help Zoe to combine courtship with propriety.
+
+This plan once conceived, she adhered to it with pertinacity and skill.
+She rode and walked with them, and in public put herself rather forward,
+and asserted the leader; but sooner or later, at a proper time and place,
+she lagged behind, or cantered ahead, and manipulated the wooing with
+tact and dexterity.
+
+The consequence was that Zoe wrote of her own accord to Mrs. Dover,
+asking leave to detain Fanny, because her brother had invited a college
+friend, and it was rather awkward for her without Fanny, there being no
+other lady in the house at present.
+
+She showed this to Fanny, who said, earnestly,
+
+"As long as ever you like, dear. Mamma will not miss me a bit. Make your
+mind easy."
+
+Vizard, knowing his sister, and entirely deceived in Severne, exercised
+no vigilance; for, to do Zoe justice, none was necessary, if Severne had
+been the man he seemed.
+
+There was no mother in the house to tremble for her daughter, to be
+jealous, to watch, to question, to demand a clear explanation--in short,
+to guard her young as only the mothers of creation do.
+
+The Elysian days rolled on. Zoe was in heaven, and Severne in a fool's
+paradise, enjoying everything, hoping everything, forgetting everything,
+and fearing nothing. He had come to this, with all his cunning; he was
+intoxicated and blinded with passion.
+
+Now it was that the idea of marrying Zoe first entered his head. But he
+was not mad enough for that. He repelled it with terror, rage, and
+despair. He passed an hour or two of agony in his own room, and came
+down, looking pale and exhausted. But, indeed, the little Dumas, though
+he does not pass for a moralist, says truly and well, "Les amours
+ille'gitimes portent toujours des fruits amers;" and Ned Severne's turn
+was come to suffer a few of the pangs he had inflicted gayly on more than
+one woman and her lover.
+
+
+One morning at breakfast Vizard made two announcements. "Here's news,"
+said he; "Dr. Gale writes to postpone her visit. She is ill, poor girl!"
+
+"Oh, dear! what is the matter?" inquired Zoe, always kind-hearted.
+
+"Gastritis--so she says."
+
+"What is that?" inquired Fanny.
+
+Mr. Severne, who was much pleased at this opportune illness, could not
+restrain his humor, and said it was a disorder produced by the fumes of
+gas.
+
+Zoe, accustomed to believe this gentleman's lies, and not giving herself
+time to think, said there was a great escape in the passage the night she
+went there.
+
+Then there was a laugh at her simplicity. She joined in it, but shook her
+finger at Master Severne.
+
+Vizard then informed Zoe that Lord Uxmoor had been staying some time at
+Basildon Hall, about nine miles off; so he had asked him to come over for
+a week, and he had accepted. "He will be here to dinner," said Vizard. He
+then rang the bell, and sent for Harris, and ordered him to prepare the
+blue chamber for Lord Uxmoor, and see the things aired himself. Harris
+having retired, cat-like, Vizard explained, "My womankind shall not kill
+Uxmoor. He is a good fellow, and his mania--we have all got a mania, my
+young friends--is a respectable one. He wants to improve the condition of
+the poor--against their will."
+
+"His friend! that was so ill. I hope he has not lost him," said Zoe.
+
+"He hasn't lost him in this letter, Miss Gush," said Vizard. "But you can
+ask him when he comes."
+
+"Of course I shall ask him," said Zoe.
+
+Half an hour before dinner there was a grating of wheels on the gravel.
+Severne looked out of his bedroom window, and saw Uxmoor drive up. Dark
+blue coach; silver harness, glittering in the sun; four chestnuts, glossy
+as velvet; two neat grooms as quick as lightning. He was down in a
+moment, and his traps in the hall, and the grooms drove the trap round to
+the stables.
+
+They were all in the drawing-room when Lord Uxmoor appeared; greeted Zoe
+with respectful warmth, Vizard with easy friendship, Severne and Miss
+Dover with well-bred civility. He took Zoe out, and sat at her right hand
+at dinner.
+
+As the new guest, he had the first claim on her attention and they had a
+topic ready--his sick friend. He told her all about him, and his happy
+recovery, with simple warmth. Zoe was interested and sympathetic; Fanny
+listened, and gave Severne short answers. Severne felt dethroned.
+
+He was rather mortified, and a little uneasy, but too brave to show it.
+He bided his time. In the drawing-room Lord Uxmoor singled out Zoe, and
+courted her openly with respectful admiration. Severne drew Fanny apart,
+and exerted himself to amuse her. Zoe began to cast uneasy glances.
+Severne made common cause with Fanny. "We have no chance against a lord,
+or a lady, you and I, Miss Dover."
+
+"I haven't," said she; "but you need not complain. She wishes she were
+here."
+
+"So do I. Will you help me?"
+
+"No, I shall not. You can make love to me. I am tired of never being made
+love to."
+
+"Well," said this ingenuous youth, "you certainly do not get your deserts
+in this house. Even I am so blinded by my passion for Zoe, that I forget
+she does not monopolize all the beauty and grace and wit in the house."
+
+"Go on," said Fanny. "I can bear a good deal of it--after such a fast."
+
+"I have no doubt you can bear a good deal. You are one of those that
+inspire feelings, but don't share them. Give me a chance; let me sing you
+a song."
+
+"A love song?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Can you sing it as well as you can talk it?"
+
+"With a little encouragement. If you would kindly stand at the end of the
+piano, and let me see your beautiful eyes fixed on me."
+
+"With disdain?"
+
+"No, no."
+
+"With just suspicion?"
+
+"No; with unmerited pity." And he began to open the piano.
+
+"What! do you accompany yourself?"
+
+"Yes, after a fashion; by that means I don't get run over."
+
+Then this accomplished person fixed his eyes on Fanny Dover, and sung her
+an Italian love song in the artificial passionate style of that nation;
+and the English girl received it pointblank with complacent composure.
+But Zoe started and thrilled at the first note, and crept up to the piano
+as if drawn by an irresistible cord. She gazed on the singer with
+amazement and admiration. His voice was a low tenor, round, and sweet as
+honey. It was a real voice, a musical instrument.
+
+"More tunable than lark to shepherd's ear When wheat is green, when
+hawthorn buds appear."
+
+And the Klosking had cured him of the fatal whine which stains the
+amateur, male or female, and had taught him climax, so that he
+articulated and sung with perfect purity, and rang out his final notes
+instead of slurring them. In short, in plain passages he was a
+reflection, on a small scale, of that great singer. He knew this himself,
+and had kept clear of song: it was so full of reminiscence and stings.
+But now jealousy drove him to it.
+
+It was Vizard's rule to leave the room whenever Zoe or Fanny opened the
+piano. So in the evening that instrument of torture was always mute.
+
+But hearing a male voice, the squire, who doted on good music, as he
+abhorred bad, strolled in upon the chance; and he stared at the singer.
+
+When the song ended, there was a little clamor of ladies' voices calling
+him to account for concealing his talent from them.
+
+"I was afraid of Vizard," said he; "he hates bad music."
+
+"None of your tricks," said the squire; "yours is not bad music; you
+speak your words articulately, and even eloquently. Your accompaniment is
+a little queer, especially in the bass; but you find out your mistakes,
+and slip out of them Heaven knows how. Zoe, you are tame, but accurate.
+Correct his accompaniments some day--when I'm out of hearing. Practice
+drives me mad. Give us another."
+
+Severne laughed good-humoredly. "Thus encouraged, who could resist?" said
+he. "It is so delightful to sing in a shower bath of criticism."
+
+He sung a sprightly French song, with prodigious spirit and dash.
+
+They all applauded, and Vizard said, "I see how it is. We were not good
+enough. He would not come out for us. He wanted the public. Uxmoor, you
+are the public. It is to you we owe this pretty warbler. Have you any
+favorite song, Public? Say the word, and he shall sing it you."
+
+Severne turned rather red at that, and was about to rise slowly, when
+Uxmoor, who was instinctively a gentleman, though not a courtier, said,
+"I don't presume to choose Mr. Severne' s songs; but if we are not tiring
+him, I own I should like to hear an English song; for I am no musician,
+and the words are everything with me."
+
+Severne assented dryly, and made him a shrewd return for his courtesy.
+
+Zoe had a brave rose in her black hair. He gave her one rapid glance of
+significance, and sung a Scotch song, almost as finely as it could be
+sung in a room:
+
+"My love is like the red, red rose That's newly sprung in June; My love
+is like a melody That's sweetly played in tune."
+
+The dog did not slur the short notes and howl upon the long ones, as did
+a little fat Jew from London, with a sweet voice and no brains, whom I
+last heard howl it in the Theater Royal, Edinburgh. No; he retained the
+pure rhythm of the composition, and, above all, sung it with the gentle
+earnestness and unquavering emotion of a Briton.
+
+It struck Zoe's heart pointblank. She drew back, blushing like the rose
+in her hair and in the song, and hiding her happiness from all but the
+keen Fanny. Everybody but Zoe applauded the song. She spoke only with her
+cheeks and eyes.
+
+Severne rose from the piano. He was asked to sing another, but declined
+laughingly. Indeed, soon afterward he glided out of the room and was seen
+no more that night.
+
+Consequently he became the topic of conversation; and the three, who
+thought they knew him, vied in his praises.
+
+In the morning an expedition was planned, and Uxmoor proffered his
+"four-in-hand." It was accepted. All young ladies like to sit behind four
+spanking trotters; and few object to be driven by a viscount with a
+glorious beard and large estates.
+
+Zoe sat by Uxmoor. Severne sat behind them with Fanny, a spectator of his
+open admiration. He could not defend himself so well as last night, and
+he felt humiliated by the position.
+
+It was renewed day after day. Zoe often cast a glance back, and drew him
+into the conversation; yet, on the whole, Uxmoor thrust him aside by his
+advantages and his resolute wooing.
+
+The same thing at dinner. It was only at night he could be number one. He
+tuned Zoe's guitar; and one night when there was a party, he walked about
+the room with this, and, putting his left leg out, serenaded one lady
+after another. Barfordshire was amazed and delighted at him, but Uxmoor
+courted Zoe as if he did not exist. He began to feel that he was the man
+to amuse women in Barfordshire, but Uxmoor the man to marry them. He
+began to sulk. Zoe's quick eyes saw and pitied. She was puzzled what to
+do. Lord Uxmoor gave her no excuse for throwing cold water on him,
+because his adoration was implied, not expressed; and he followed her up
+so closely, she could hardly get a word with Severne. When she did, there
+was consolation in every tone; and she took care to let drop that Lord
+Uxmoor was going in a day or two. So he was, but he altered his mind, and
+asked leave to stay.
+
+Severne looked gloomy at this, and he became dejected. He was miserable,
+and showed it, to see what Zoe would do. What she did was to get rather
+bored by Uxmoor, and glance from Fanny to Severne. I believe Zoe only
+meant, "Do pray say things to comfort him;" but Fanny read these gentle
+glances _'a la_ Dover. She got hold of Severne one day, and said,
+
+"What is the matter with you?"
+
+"Of course you can't divine," said he, sarcastically.
+
+"Oh yes, I can; and it is your own fault."
+
+"My fault! That is a good joke. Did I invite this man with all his
+advantages? That was Vizard's doing, who calls himself my friend."
+
+"If it was not this one, it would be some other. Can you hope to keep Zoe
+Vizard from being courted? Why, she is the beauty of the county! and her
+brother not married. It is no use your making love by halves to her. She
+will go to some man who is in earnest."
+
+"And am I not in earnest?"
+
+"Not so much as he is. You have known her four months, and never once
+asked her to marry you."
+
+"So I am to be punished for my self-denial."
+
+"Self-denial! Nonsense. Men have no self-denial. It is your cowardice."
+
+"Don't be cruel. You know it is my poverty."
+
+"Your poverty of spirit. You gave up money for her, and that is as good
+as if you had it still, and better. If you love Zoe, scrape up an income
+somehow, and say the word. Why, Harrington is bewitched with you, and he
+is rolling in money. I wouldn't lose her by cowardice, if I were you.
+Uxmoor will offer marriage before he goes. He is staying on for that.
+Now, take my word for it, when one man offers marriage, and the other
+does not, there is always a good chance of the girl saying this one is in
+earnest, and the other is not. We don't expect self-denial in a man; we
+don't believe in it. We see you seizing upon everything else you care
+for; and, if you don't seize on us, it wounds our vanity, the strongest
+passion we have. Consider, Uxmoor has title, wealth, everything to bestow
+with the wedding-ring. If he offers all that, and you don't offer all you
+have, how much more generous he looks to her than you do!"
+
+"In short, you think she will doubt my affection, if I don't ask her to
+share my poverty."
+
+"If you don't, and a rich man asks her to share his all, I'm sure she
+will. And so should I. Words are only words."
+
+"You torture me. I'd rather die than lose her."
+
+"Then live and win her. I've told you the way."
+
+"I will scrape an income together, and ask her."
+
+"Upon your honor?"
+
+"Upon my soul."
+
+"Then, in my opinion, you will have her in spite of Lord Uxmoor."
+
+Hot from this, Edward Severne sat down and wrote a moving letter to a
+certain cousin of his in Huntingdonshire.
+
+
+"MY DEAR COUSIN--I have often heard you say you were under obligations to
+my father, and had a regard for me. Indeed, you have shown the latter by
+letting the interest on my mortgage run out many years and not
+foreclosing. Having no other friend, I now write to you, and throw myself
+on your pity. I have formed a deep attachment to a young lady of infinite
+beauty and virtue. She is above me in everything, especially in fortune.
+Yet she deigns to love me. I can't ask her hand as a pauper; and by my
+own folly, now deeply repented, I am little more. Now, all depends on
+you--my happiness, my respectability. Sooner or later, I shall be able to
+repay you all. For God's sake come to the assistance of your affectionate
+cousin,
+
+"EDWARD SEVERNE."
+
+
+"The brother, a man of immense estates, is an old friend, and warmly
+attached to me. If I could only, through your temporary assistance or
+connivance, present my estate as clear, all would be well, and I could
+repay you afterward."
+
+
+To this letter he received an immediate reply:
+
+
+"DEAR EDWARD--I thought you had forgotten my very existence. Yes, I owe
+much to your father, and have always said so, and acted accordingly.
+While you have been wandering abroad, deserting us all, I have improved
+your estate. I have bought all the other mortgages, and of late the rent
+has paid the interest, within a few pounds. I now make you an offer. Give
+me a long lease of the two farms at three hundred pounds a year--they
+will soon be vacant--and two thousand pounds out of hand, and I will
+cancel all the mortgages, and give you a receipt for them, as paid in
+full. This will be like paying you several thousand pounds for a
+beneficial lease. The two thousand pounds I must insist on, in justice to
+my own family.
+
+"Your affectionate cousin,
+
+"GEORGE SEVERNE."
+
+
+This munificent offer surprised and delighted Severne, and, indeed, no
+other man but Cousin George, who had a heart of gold, and was grateful to
+Ned's father, and also loved the scamp himself, as everybody did, would
+have made such an offer.
+
+Our adventurer wrote, and closed with it, and gushed gratitude. Then he
+asked himself how to get the money. Had he been married to Zoe, or not
+thinking of her, he would have gone at once to Vizard, for the security
+was ample. But in his present delicate situation this would not do. No;
+he must be able to come and say, "My estate is small, but it is clear.
+Here is a receipt for six thousand pounds' worth of mortgages I have paid
+off. I am poor in land but rich in experience, regrets, and love. Be my
+friend, and trust me with Zoe."
+
+He turned and twisted it in his mind, and resolved on a bold course. He
+would go to Homburg, and get that sum by hook or by crook out of Ina
+Klosking's winnings. He took Fanny into his confidence; only he
+substituted London for Homburg.
+
+"And oh, Miss Dover," said he, "do not let me suffer by going away and
+leaving a rival behind."
+
+"Suffer by it!" said she. "No, I mean to reward you for taking my advice.
+Don't you say a word to _her._ It will come better from me. I'll let her
+know what you are gone for; and she is just the girl to be upon honor,
+and ever so much cooler to Lord Uxmoor because you are unhappy, but have
+gone away trusting her."
+
+And his artful ally kept her word. She went into Zoe's room before dinner
+to have it out with her.
+
+In the evening Severne told Vizard he must go up to London for a day or
+two.
+
+"All right," said Vizard. "Tell some of them to order the dog-cart for
+your train."
+
+But Zoe took occasion to ask him for how long, and murmured, "Remember
+how we shall miss you," with such a look that he was in Elysium that
+evening.
+
+But at night he packed his bag for Homburg, and that chilled him. He lay
+slumbering all night, but not sleeping, and waking with starts and a
+sense of horror.
+
+At breakfast, after reading his letters, Vizard asked him what train he
+would go by.
+
+He said, the one o'clock.
+
+"All right," said Vizard. Then he rang the bell, countermanded the
+dog-cart, and ordered the barouche.
+
+"A barouche for me!" said Severne. "Why, I am not going to take the
+ladies to the station."
+
+"No; it is to bring one here. She comes down from London five minutes
+before you take the up train."
+
+There was a general exclamation: Who was it? Aunt Maitland?
+
+"No," said Vizard, tossing a note to Zoe--"it is Doctress Gale."
+
+
+Severne's countenance fell.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+EDWARD SEVERNE, master of arts, dreaded Rhoda Gale, M.D. He had deluded,
+in various degrees, several ladies that were no fools; but here was one
+who staggered and puzzled him. Bright and keen as steel, quick and
+spirited, yet controlled by judgment and always mistress of herself, she
+seemed to him a new species. The worst of it was, he felt himself in the
+power of this new woman, and, indeed, he saw no limit to the mischief she
+might possibly do him if she and Zoe compared notes. He had thought the
+matter over, and realized this more than he did when in London. Hence the
+good youth's delight at her illness, noticed in a former chapter.
+
+He was very thoughtful all breakfast time, and as soon as it was over
+drew Vizard apart, and said he would postpone his visit to London until
+he had communicated with his man of business. He would go to the station
+and telegraph him, and by that means would do the civil and meet Miss
+Gale. Vizard stared at him.
+
+"You meet my virago? Why, I thought you disapproved her entirely."
+
+"No, no; only the idea of a female doctor, not the lady herself. Besides,
+it is a rule with me, my dear fellow, never to let myself disapprove my
+friends' friends."
+
+"That is a bright idea, and you are a good fellow," said Vizard. "Go and
+meet the pest, by all means, and bring her here to luncheon. After
+luncheon we will drive her up to the farm and ensconce her."
+
+Edward Severne had this advantage over most impostors, that he was
+masculine or feminine as occasion required. For instance, he could be
+hysterical or bold to serve the turn. Another example--he watched faces
+like a woman, and yet he could look you in the face like a man,
+especially when he was lying. In the present conjuncture a crafty woman
+would have bristled with all the arts of self-defense, but stayed at home
+and kept close to Zoe. Not so our master of arts; he went manfully to
+meet Rhoda Gale, and so secure a _te'te-'a-te'te,_ and learn, if
+possible, what she meant to do, and whether she could be cannily
+propitiated. He reached the station before her, and wired a very
+intelligent person who, he knew, conducted delicate inquiries, and had
+been very successful in a divorce case, public two years before. Even as
+he dispatched this message there was a whistling and a ringing, and the
+sound of a coming train, and Ned Severne ran to meet Rhoda Gale with a
+heart palpitating a little, and a face beaming greatly to order. He
+looked for her in the first-class carriages, but she was in the second,
+and saw him. He did not see her till she stepped out on the platform.
+Then he made toward her. He took off his hat, and said, with respectful
+zeal, "If you will tell me what luggage you have, the groom shall get it
+out."
+
+Miss Gale's eyes wandered over him loftily. "I have only a box and a bag,
+sir, both marked 'R. G.'"
+
+"Joe," said he--for he had already made friends with all the servants,
+and won their hearts--"box and bag marked 'R. G.' Miss Gale, you had
+better take your seat in the carriage."
+
+Miss Gale gave a little supercilious nod, and he showed her obsequiously
+into the carriage. She laid her head back, and contemplated vacancy ahead
+in a manner anything but encouraging to this new admirer Fate had sent
+her. He turned away, a little discomfited, and when the luggage was
+brought up, he had the bag placed inside, and the box in a sort of boot,
+and then jumped in and seated himself inside. "Home," said he to the
+coachman, and off they went. When he came in she started with
+well-feigned surprise, and stared at him.
+
+"Oh," said she, "I have met you before. Why, it is Mr. Severne. Excuse me
+taking you for one of the servants. Some people have short memories, you
+know."
+
+This deliberate affront was duly felt, but parried with a master-hand.
+
+"Why, I _am_ one of the servants," said he; "only I am not Vizard's. I'm
+yours."
+
+"In-deed!"
+
+"If you will let me."
+
+"I am too poor to have fine servants."
+
+"Say too haughty. You are not too poor, for I shan't cost you anything
+but a gracious word now and then."
+
+"Unfortunately I don't deal in gracious words, only true ones."
+
+"I see that."
+
+"Then suppose you imitate me, and tell me why you came to meet me?"
+
+This question came from her with sudden celerity, like lightning out of a
+cloud, and she bent her eyes on him with that prodigious keenness she
+could throw into those steel gray orbs, when her mind put on its full
+power of observation.
+
+Severne colored a little, and hesitated.
+
+"Come now," said this keen witch, "don't wait to make up a reason. Tell
+the truth for once--quick!--quick!--why did _you_ come to meet _me?"_
+
+"I didn't come to be bullied," replied supple Severne, affecting
+sullenness.
+
+"You didn't!" cried the other, acting vast surprise. "Then what _did_ you
+come for?"
+
+"I don't know; and I wish I hadn't come."
+
+"That I believe." Rhoda shot this in like an arrow.
+
+"But," continued Severne, "if I hadn't, nobody would; for it is Vizard's
+justicing day, and the ladies are too taken up with a lord to come and
+meet such vulgar trifles as genius and learning and sci--"
+
+"Come, come!" said Rhoda, contemptuously; "you care as little about
+science and learning and genius as I possess them. You won't tell me?
+Well, I shall find you out." Then, after a pause, "Who is this lord?"
+
+"Lord Uxmoor."
+
+"What kind of a lord is he?"
+
+"A very bushy lord."
+
+"Bushy?--oh, bearded like the pard! Now tell me," said she, "is he
+cutting you out with Miss Vizard?"
+
+"You shall judge for yourself. Please spare me on that one topic--if you
+ever spared anybody in your life."
+
+"Oh, dear me!" said Rhoda, coolly. "I'm not so very cruel. I'm only a
+little vindictive and cat-like. If people offend me, I like to play with
+them a bit, and amuse myself, and then kill them--kill them--kill them;
+that is all."
+
+This pretty little revelation of character was accompanied with a cruel
+smile that showed a long row of dazzling white teeth. They seemed capable
+of killing anything from a liar up to a hickory-nut.
+
+Severne looked at her and gave a shudder. "Then Heaven forbid you should
+ever be my enemy!" said he, sadly, "for I am unhappy enough already."
+
+Having delivered this disarming speech, he collapsed, and seemed to be
+overpowered with despondency. Miss Gale showed no signs of melting. She
+leaned back and eyed him with steady and composed curiosity, as a
+zoologist studying a new specimen and all its little movements.
+
+They drove up to the Hall door, and Miss Gale was conducted to the
+drawing-room, where she found Lord Uxmoor and the two young ladies. Zoe
+shook hands with her. Fanny put a limp paw into hers, which made itself
+equally limp directly, so Fanny's dropped out. Lord Uxmoor was presented
+to her, at his own request. Soon after this luncheon was announced.
+Vizard joined them, welcomed Rhoda genially, and told the party he had
+ordered the break, and Uxmoor would drive them to the farm round by
+Hillstoke and the Common. "And so," said he, "by showing Miss Gale our
+most picturesque spot at once, we may perhaps blind her to the horrors of
+her situation--for a time."
+
+The break was driven round in due course, with Uxmoor's team harnessed to
+it. It was followed by a dog-cart crammed with grooms, Uxmoorian and
+Vizardian. The break was padded and cushioned, and held eight or nine
+people very comfortably.. It was, indeed, a sort of picnic van, used only
+in very fine weather. It rolled on beautiful springs. Its present
+contents were Miss Gale and her luggage and two hampers full of good
+things for her; Vizard, Severne, and Miss Dover. Zoe sat on the box
+beside Lord Uxmoor. They drove through the village, and Mr. Severne was
+so obliging as to point out its beauties to Miss Gale. She took little
+notice of his comments, except by a stiff nod every now and then, but
+eyed each house and premises with great keenness.
+
+At last she stopped his fluency by inquiring whether he had been into
+them all; and when he said he had not, she took advantage of that
+admission to inform him that in two days' time she should be able to tell
+him a great deal more than he was likely to tell her, upon his method of
+inspecting villages.
+
+"That is right," said Vizard; "snub him: he gets snubbed too little here.
+How dare he pepper science with his small-talk? But it is our fault--we
+admire his volubility."
+
+"Oh," said Fanny, with a glance of defiance at Miss Gale, "if we are to
+talk nothing but science, it _will_ be a weary world."
+
+After the village there was a long, gradual ascent of about a mile, and
+then they entered a new country. It was a series of woods and clearings,
+some grass, some arable. Huge oaks, flung their arms over a road lined on
+either side by short turf, close-cropped by the gypsies' cattle. Some
+band or other of them was always encamped by the road-side, and never two
+bands at once. And between these giant trees, not one of which was ever
+felled, you saw here and there a glade, green as an emerald; or a yellow
+stubble, glowing in the sun. After about a mile of this, still mounting,
+but gradually, they emerged upon a spacious table-land--a long, broad,
+open, grass plateau, studded with cottages. In this lake of grass Uxmoor
+drew up at a word from Zoe, to show Miss Gale the scene. The cottages
+were white as snow, and thatched as at Islip; but instead of
+vegetable-gardens they all had orchards. The trees were apple and cherry:
+of the latter not less than a thousand in that small hamlet. It was
+literally a lawn, a quarter of a mile long and about two hundred yards
+broad, bordered with white cottages and orchards. The cherries, red and
+black, gleamed like countless eyes among the cool leaves. There was a
+little church on the lawn that looked like a pigeon-house. A cow or two
+grazed peacefully. Pigs, big and little, crossed the lawn, grunting and
+squeaking satisfaction, and dived into the adjacent woods after acorns,
+and here and there a truffle the villagers knew not the value of. There
+was a pond or two in the lawn; one had a wooden plank fixed on uprights,
+that went in some way. A woman was out on the board, bare-armed, dipping
+her bucket in for water. In another pond an old knowing horse stood
+gravely cooling his heels up to the fetlocks. These, with shirts, male
+and female, drying on a line, and whiteheaded children rolling in the
+dust, and a donkey braying his heart out for reasons known only to
+himself, if known at all, were the principal details of the sylvan
+hamlet; but on a general survey there were grand beauties. The village
+and its turf lay in the semicircular sweep of an unbroken forest; but at
+the sides of the leafy basin glades had been cut for drawing timber,
+stacking bark, etc., and what Milton calls so happily "the checkered
+shade" was seen in all its beauty; for the hot sun struggled in at every
+aperture, and splashed the leaves and the path with fiery flashes and
+streaks, and topaz brooches, all intensified in fire and beauty by the
+cool adjacent shadows.
+
+Looking back, the view was quite open in most places. The wooded lanes
+and strips they had passed were little more in so vast a panorama than
+the black stripes on a backgammon board. The site was so high that the
+eye swept over all, and rested on a broad valley beyond, with a patchwork
+pattern of variegated fields and the curling steam of engines flying
+across all England; then swept by a vast incline up to a horizon of faint
+green hills, the famous pastures of the United Kingdom. So that it was a
+deep basin of foliage in front; but you had only to turn your body, and
+there was a forty-mile view, with all the sweet varieties of color that
+gem our fields and meadows, as they bask in the afternoon sun of that
+golden time when summer melts into autumn, and mellows without a chill.
+
+"Oh," cried Miss Gale, "don't anybody speak, please! It is too
+beautiful!"
+
+They respected an enthusiasm so rare in this young lady, and let her
+contemplate the scene at her ease.
+
+"I reckon," said she, dogmatically, and nodding that wise little head,
+"that this is Old England--the England my ancestors left in search of
+liberty, and that's a plant that ranks before cherry-trees, I rather
+think. No, I couldn't have gone; I'd have stayed and killed a hundred
+tyrants. But I wouldn't have chopped their heads off" (to Vizard, very
+confidentially); "I'd have poisoned 'em."
+
+"Don't, Miss Gale!" said Fanny; "you make my blood run cold."
+
+As it was quite indifferent to Miss Gale whether she made Miss Dover's
+blood run cold or not, she paid no attention, but proceeded with her
+reflections. "The only thing that spoils it is the smoke of those
+engines, reminding one that in two hours you or I, or that pastoral old
+hermit there in a smock-frock, and a pipe--and oh, what bad tobacco!--can
+be wrenched out of this paradise, and shrieked and rattled off and flung
+into that wilderness of brick called London, where the hearts are as hard
+as the pavement--except those that have strayed there from Barfordshire."
+
+The witch changed face and tone and everything like lightning, and threw
+this last in with a sudden grace and sweetness that contrasted strangely
+with her usual sharpness.
+
+Zoe heard, and turned round to look down on her with a smile as sweet as
+honey. "I hardly think that is a drawback," said she, amicably. "Does not
+being able to leave a place make it sweeter? for then we are free in it,
+you know. But I must own there _is_ a drawback--the boys' faces, Miss
+Gale, they _are_ so pasty."
+
+"Indeed!" says Rhoda, pricking up her ears.
+
+"Form no false hopes of an epidemic. This is not an infirmary in a wood,
+Miss Gale," said Vizard. "My sister is a great colorist, and pitches her
+expectations too high. I dare say their faces are not more pasty than
+usual; but this is a show place, and looks like a garden; so Zoe wants
+the boys to be poppies and pansies, and the girls roses and lilies.
+Which--they--are--not."
+
+"All I know is," said Zoe, resolutely, "that in Islip the children's
+faces are rosy, but here they are pasty--dreadfully pasty."
+
+"Well, you have got a box of colors. We will come up some day and tint
+all the putty-faced boys." It was to Miss Dover the company owed this
+suggestion.
+
+"No," said Rhoda. "Their faces are my business; I'll soon fix them. She
+didn't say putty-faced; she said pasty."
+
+"Grateful to you for the distinction, Miss Gale," said Zoe.
+
+Miss Gale proceeded to insist that boys are not pasty-faced without a
+cause, and it is to be sought lower down. "Ah!" cried she, suddenly, "is
+that a cherry that I see before me? No, a million. They steal them and
+eat them by the thousand, and that's why. Tell the truth, now,
+everybody--they eat the stones."
+
+Miss Vizard said she did not know, but thought them capable.
+
+"Children know nothing," said Vizard. "Please address all future
+scientific inquiries to an 'old inhabitant.' Miss Gale, the country
+abounds in curiosities; but, among those curiosities, even Science, with
+her searching eye, has never yet discovered an unswallowed cherry stone
+in Hillstoke village."
+
+"What! not on the trees?"
+
+"She is too much for me. Drive on, coachman, and drown her replies in the
+clatter of hoofs. Round by the Stag, Zoe. I am uneasy till I have locked
+Fair Science up. I own it is a mean way of getting rid of a troublesome
+disputant."
+
+"Now I think it is quite fair," said Fanny. "She shuts you up, and so you
+lock her up."
+
+"'Tis well," said Vizard, dolefully. "Now I am No. 3--I who used to
+retort and keep girls in their places--with difficulty. Here is Ned
+Severne, too, reduced to silence. Why, where's your tongue? Miss Gale,
+you would hardly believe it, this is our chatterbox. We have been days
+and days, and could not get in a word edgewise for him. But now all he
+can do is to gaze on you with canine devotion, and devour the honey--I
+beg pardon, the lime-juice--of your lips. I warn you of one thing,
+though; there is such a thing as a threatening silence. He is evidently
+booking every word you utter; and he will deliver it all for his own
+behind your back some fine day."
+
+
+With this sort of banter and small talk, not worth deluging the reader
+dead with, they passed away the time till they reached the farm.
+
+"You stay here," said Vizard--"all but Zoe. Tom and George, get the
+things out." The grooms had already jumped out of the dog-cart, and two
+were at the horses' heads. The step-ladder was placed for Zoe, and Vizard
+asked her to go in and see the rooms were all right, while he took Miss
+Gale to the stables. He did so, and showed her a spirited Galloway and a
+steady old horse, and told her she could ride one and drive the other all
+over the country.
+
+She thanked him, but said her attention would be occupied by the two
+villages first, and she should make him a report in forty-eight hours.
+
+"As you please," said he. "You are terribly in earnest."
+
+"What should I be worth if I was not?'
+
+"Well, come and see your shell; and you must tell me if we have forgotten
+anything essential to your comfort."
+
+She followed him, and he led her to a wing of the farmhouse comparatively
+new, and quite superior to the rest. Here were two good sunny rooms, with
+windows looking south and west, and they were both papered with a white
+watered pattern, and a pretty French border of flowers at the upper part,
+to look gay and cheerful.
+
+Zoe was in the bedroom, arranging things with a pretty air of
+hospitality. It was cheerily fitted up, and a fire of beech logs blazing.
+
+"How good you are!" said Rhoda, looking wistfully at her. But Zoe checked
+all comments by asking her to look at the sitting-room and see if it
+would do. Rhoda would rather have stayed with Zoe; but she complied, and
+found another bright, cheerful room, and Vizard standing in the middle of
+it. There was another beech fire blazing, though it was hot weather. Here
+was a round table, with a large pot full of flowers, geraniums and musk
+flowers outside, with the sun gilding their green leaves most amiably,
+and everything unpretending, but bright and comfortable; well padded
+sofa, luxurious armchair, stand-up reading desk, and a very large
+knee-hole table; a fine mirror from the ceiling to the dado; a book-case
+with choice books, and on a pembroke table near the wall were several
+periodicals. Rhoda, after a cursory survey of the room, flew to the
+books. "Oh!" said she, "what good books! all standard works; and several
+on medicine; and, I declare, the last numbers of the _Lancet_ and the
+_Medical Gazette,_ and the very best French and German periodicals! Oh,
+what have I done? and what can I ever do?"
+
+"What! Are _you_ going to gush like the rest--and about nothing?" said
+Vizard. "Then I'm off. Come along, Zoe;" and he hurried his sister away.
+
+She came at the word; but as soon as they were out of the house, asked
+him what was the matter.
+
+"I thought she was going to gush. But I dare say it was a false alarm."
+
+"And why shouldn't she gush, when you have been so kind?"
+
+"Pooh--nonsense! I have not been kind to her, and don't mean to be kind
+to her, or to any woman; besides, she must not be allowed to gush; she is
+the parish virago--imported from vast distances as such--and for her to
+play the woman would be an abominable breach of faith. We have got our
+gusher, likewise our flirt; and it was understood from the first that
+this was to be a new _dramatis persona_--was not to be a repetition of
+you or _la_ Dover, but--ahem--the third Grace, a virago: solidified
+vinegar."
+
+
+Rhoda Gale felt very happy. She was young, healthy, ambitious, and
+sanguine. She divined that, somehow, her turning point had come; and when
+she contrasted her condition a month ago, and the hardness of the world,
+with the comfort and kindness that now surrounded her, and the
+magnanimity which fled, not to be thanked for them, she felt for once in
+a way humble as well as grateful, and said to herself, "It is not to
+myself nor any merit of mine I owe such a change as all this is." What
+some call religion, and others superstition, overpowered her, and she
+kneeled down and held communion with that great Spirit which, as she
+believed, pervades the material universe, and probably arises from it, as
+harmony from the well strung harp. Theory of the day, or Plato
+redivivus--which is it?
+
+"O great creative element, and stream of tendencies in the universe,
+whereby all things struggle toward perfection, deign to be the recipient
+of that gratitude which fills me, and cannot be silent; and since
+gratitude is right in all, and most of all in me at this moment, forgive
+me if, in the weakness of my intellect, I fall into the old error of
+addressing you as an individual. It is but the weakness of the heart; we
+are persons, and so we cry out for a personal God to be grateful to. Pray
+receive it so--if, indeed, these words of mine have any access to your
+infinitely superior nature. And if it is true that you influence the mind
+of man, and are by any act of positive volition the cause of these
+benefits I now profit by, then pray influence my mind in turn, and make
+me a more worthy recipient of all these favors; above all, inspire me to
+keep faithfully to my own sphere, which is on earth; to be good and kind
+and tolerant to my fellow creatures, perverse as they are sometimes, and
+not content myself with saying good words to you, to whose information I
+can add nothing, nor yet to your happiness, by any words of mine. Let no
+hollow sentiment of religion keep me long prating on my knees, when life
+is so short, and" (jumping suddenly up) "my duties can only be discharged
+afoot."
+
+Refreshed by this aspiration, the like of which I have not yet heard
+delivered in churches--but the rising generation will perhaps be more
+fortunate in that respect--she went into the kitchen, ordered tea, bread
+and butter, and one egg for dinner at seven o'clock, and walked instantly
+back to Hillstoke to inspect the village, according to her ideas of
+inspection.
+
+Next morning down comes the bailiff's head man in his light cart, and a
+note is delivered to Vizard at the breakfast table. He reads it to
+himself, then proclaims silence, and reads it aloud:
+
+
+"DEAR SIR--As we crossed your hall to luncheon, there was the door of a
+small room half open, and I saw a large mahogany case standing on a
+marble table with one leg, but three claws gilt. I saw 'Micro' printed on
+the case. So I hope it is a microscope, and a fine one. To enable you to
+find it, if you don't know, the room had crimson curtains, and is papered
+in green flock. That is the worst of all the poisonous papers, because
+the texture is loose, and the poisonous stuff easily detached, and always
+flying about the room. I hope you do not sit in it, nor Miss Vizard,
+because sitting in that room is courting death. Please lend me the
+microscope, if it is one, and I'll soon show you why the boys are putty
+faced. I have inspected them, and find Miss Dover's epithet more exact
+than Miss Vizard's, which is singular. I will take great care of it.
+Yours respectfully,
+
+"RHODA GALE."
+
+
+Vizard ordered a servant to deliver the microscope to Miss Gale's
+messenger with his compliments. Fanny wondered what she wanted with it.
+"Not to inspect our little characters, it is to be hoped," said Vizard.
+"Why not pay her a visit, you ladies? then she will tell you, perhaps."
+The ladies instantly wore that bland look of inert but rocky resistance I
+have already noted as a characteristic of "our girls." Vizard saw, and
+said, "Try and persuade them, Uxmoor."
+
+"I can only offer Miss Vizard my escort," said Lord Uxmoor.
+
+"And I offer both ladies mine," said Ned Severne, rather loud and with a
+little sneer, to mark his superior breeding. The gentleman was so
+extremely polite in general that there was no mistaking his hostile
+intentions now. The inevitable war had begun, and the first shot was
+fired. Of course the wonder was it had not come long before; and perhaps
+I ought to have drawn more attention to the delicacy and tact of Zoe
+Vizard, which had averted it for a time. To be sure, she had been aided
+by the size of the house and its habits. The ladies had their own sitting
+rooms; Fanny kept close to Zoe by special orders; and nobody could get a
+chance _te'te-'a-te'te_ with Zoe unless she chose. By this means, her
+native dignity and watchful tact, by her frank courtesy to Uxmoor, and by
+the many little quiet ways she took to show Severne her sentiments
+remained unchanged, she had managed to keep the peace, and avert that
+open competition for her favor which would have tickled the vanity of a
+Fanny Dover, but shocked the refined modesty of a Zoe Vizard.
+
+But nature will have her way soon or late, and it is the nature of males
+to fight for the female.
+
+At Severne's shot Uxmoor drew up a little haughtily, but did not feel
+sure anything was intended. He was little accustomed to rubs. Zoe, on the
+other hand, turned a little pale--just a little, for she was sorry, but
+not surprised; so she proved equal to the occasion. She smiled and made
+light of it. "Of course we are _all_ going," said she.
+
+"Except one," said Vizard, dryly.
+
+"That is too bad," said Fanny. "Here he drives us all to visit his
+blue-stocking, but he takes good care not to go himself."
+
+"Perhaps he prefers to visit her alone," suggested Severne. Zoe looked
+alarmed.
+
+"That is _so,"_ said Vizard. "Observe, I am learning her very phrases.
+When you come back, tell me every word she says; pray let nothing be lost
+that falls from my virago."
+
+The party started after luncheon; and Severne, true to his new policy,
+whipped to Zoe's side before Uxmoor, and engaged her at once in
+conversation.
+
+Uxmoor bit his lip, and fell to Fanny. Fanny saw at once what was going
+on, and made herself very agreeable to Uxmoor. He was polite and a little
+gratified, but cast uneasy glances at the other pair.
+
+Meantime Severne was improving his opportunity. "Sorry to disturb Lord
+Uxmoor's monopoly," said he, sarcastically, "but I could not bear it any
+longer."
+
+"I do not object to the change," said Zoe, smiling maternally on him;
+"but you will be good enough to imitate me in one thing--you will always
+be polite to Lord Uxmoor."
+
+"He makes it rather hard."
+
+"It is only for a time; and we must learn to be capable of self-denial. I
+assure you I have exercised quite as much as I ask of you. Edward, he is
+a gentleman of great worth, universally respected, and my brother has a
+particular wish to be friends with him. So pray be patient; be
+considerate. Have a little faith in one who--"
+
+She did not end the sentence.
+
+"Well, I will," said he. "But please think of me a little. I am beginning
+to feel quite thrust aside, and degraded in my own eyes for putting up
+with it."
+
+"For shame, to talk so," said Zoe; but the tears came into her eyes.
+
+The master of arts saw, and said no more. He had the art of not
+overdoing: he left the arrow to rankle. He walked by her side in a
+silence for ever so long. Then, suddenly, as if by a mighty effort of
+unselfish love, went off into delightful discourse. He cooed and wooed
+and flattered and fascinated; and by the time they reached the farm had
+driven Uxmoor out of her head.
+
+Miss Gale was out. The farmer's wife said she had gone into the
+town--meaning Hillstoke--which was, strictly speaking, a hamlet or
+tributary village. Hillstoke church was only twelve years old, and the
+tithes of the place went to the parson of Islip.
+
+When Zoe turned to go, Uxmoor seized the opportunity, and drew up beside
+her, like a soldier falling into the ranks. Zoe felt hot; but as Severne
+took no open notice, she could not help smiling at the behavior of the
+fellows; and Uxmoor got his chance.
+
+Severne turned to Fanny with a wicked sneer. "Very well, my lord," said
+he; "but I have put a spoke in your wheel."
+
+"As if I did not see, you clever creature!" said Fanny, admiringly.
+
+"Ah, Miss Dover, I need to be as clever as you! See what I have against
+me: a rich lord, with the bushiest beard."
+
+"Never you mind," said Fanny. "Good wine needs no bush, ha! ha! You are
+lovely, and have a wheedling tongue, and you were there first. Be good,
+now--and you can flirt with me to fill up the time. I hate not being
+flirted at all. It is stagnation."
+
+"Yes, but it is not so easy to flirt with you just a little. You are so
+charming." Thereupon he proceeded to flatter her, and wonder how he had
+escaped a passionate attachment to so brilliant a creature. "What saved
+me," said he, oracularly, "is, that I never could love two at once; and
+Zoe seized my love at sight. She left me nothing to lay at your feet but
+my admiration, the tenderest friendship man can feel for woman, and my
+lifelong gratitude for fighting my battle. Oh, Miss Dover, I must be
+quite serious a moment. What other lady but you would be so generous as
+to befriend a poor man with another lady, when there's wealth and title
+on the other side?"
+
+Fanny blushed and softened, but turned it off. "There--no heroics,
+please," said she. "You are a dear little fellow; and don't go and be
+jealous, for he shan't have her. He would never ask me to his house, you
+know. Now I think you would perhaps--who knows? Tell me, fascinating
+monster, are you going to be ungrateful?"
+
+"Not to you. My home would always be yours; and you know it." And he
+caught her hand and kissed it in an ungovernable transport, the strings
+of which be pulled himself. He took care to be quick about it, though,
+and not let Zoe or Uxmoor see, who were walking on before and behaving
+sedately.
+
+In Hillstoke lived, on a pension from Vizard, old Mrs. Greenaway,
+rheumatic about the lower joints, so she went on crutches; but she went
+fast, being vigorous, and so did her tongue. At Hillstoke she was Dame
+Greenaway, being a relic of that generation which applied the word dame
+to every wife, high and low; but at Islip she was "Sally," because she
+had started under that title, fifty-five years ago, as house-maid at
+Vizard Court; and, by the tenacity of oral tradition, retained it ever
+since, in spite of two husbands she had wedded and buried with equal
+composure.
+
+Her feet were still springy, her arms strong as iron, and her crutches
+active. At sight of our party she came out with amazing wooden strides,
+agog for gossip, and met them at the gate. She managed to indicate a
+courtesy, and said, "Good day, miss; your sarvant, all the company. Lord,
+how nice you be dressed, all on ye, to--be--sure! Well, miss, have ye
+heerd the news?"
+
+"No, Sally. What is it?"
+
+"What! haant ye heerd about the young 'oman at the farm?"
+
+"Oh yes; we came to see her."
+
+"No, did ye now? Well, she was here not half an hour agone. By the same
+toaken, I did put her a question, and she answered me then and there."
+
+"And may I ask what the question was?"
+
+"And welcome, miss. I said, says I, 'Young 'oman, where be you come
+from?' so says she, 'Old 'oman, I be come from forin parts.' 'I thought
+as much,' says I. 'And what be 'e come _for?'_ 'To sojourn here,' says
+she, which she meant to bide a time. 'And what do 'e count to do whilst
+here you be?' says I. Says she, 'As much good as ever I can do, and as
+little harm.' 'That is no answer,' says I. She said it would do for the
+present; 'and good day to you, ma'am,' says she. 'Your sarvant, miss,'
+says I; and she was off like a flash. But I called my grandson Bill, and
+I told him he must follow her, go where she would, and let us know what
+she was up to down in Islip. Then I went round the neighbors, and one
+told me one tale, and another another. But it all comes to one--we have
+gotten A BUSYBODY; that's the name I gives her. She don't give in to
+that, ye know; she is a Latiner, and speaks according. She gave Master
+Giles her own description. Says she, 'I'm suspector-general of this here
+districk.' So then Giles he was skeared a bit--he have got an acre of
+land of his own, you know--and he up and asked her did she come under the
+taxes, or was she a fresh imposition; 'for we are burdened enough
+a'ready, no offense to you, miss,' says Josh Giles. 'Don't you be
+skeared, old man,' says she, 'I shan't cost _you_ none; your betters pays
+for I.' So says Giles, 'Oh, if you falls on squire, I don't vally that;
+squire's back is broad enough to bear the load, but I'm a poor man.'
+That's how a' goes on, ye know. Poverty is always in his mouth, but the
+old chap have got a hatful of money hid away in the thatch or some're,
+only he haan't a got the heart to spend it."
+
+"Tell us more about the young lady," asked Uxmoor.
+
+"What young lady? Oh, _her._ She is not a young lady--leastways she is
+not dressed like one, but like a plain, decent body. She was all of a
+piece--blue serge! Bless your heart, the peddlers bring it round here at
+elevenpence half-penny the yard, and a good breadth too; and plain boots,
+not heeled like your'n, miss, nor your'n, ma'am; and a felt hat like a
+boy. You'd say the parish had dressed her for ten shillings, and got a
+pot of beer out on't."
+
+"Well, never mind that," said Zoe; "I must tell you she is a very worthy
+young lady, and my brother has a respect for her. Dress? Why, Sally, you
+know it is not the wisest that spend most on dress. You might tell us
+what she _does."_
+
+Dame Greenaway snatched the word out of her mouth. "Well, then, miss,
+what she have done, she have suspected everything. She have suspected the
+ponds; she have suspected the houses; she have suspected the folk; she
+must know what they eat and drink and wear next their very skin, and what
+they do lie down on. She have been at the very boys and forebade 'em to
+swallow the cherry stones, poor things; but old Mrs. Nash--which her boys
+lives on cherries at this time o' year, and to be sure they are a godsend
+to keep the children hereabout from starving--well, Dame Nash told her
+the Almighty knew best; he had put 'em together on the tree, so why not
+in the boys' insides; and that was common sense to my mind. But la! she
+wouldn't heed it. She said, 'Then you'd eat the peach stones by that
+rule, and the fish bones and all.' Says she, quite resolute like, 'I
+forbid 'em to swallow the stones;' and says she, 'Ye mawnt gainsay me,
+none on ye, for I be the new doctor.' So then it all come out. She isn't
+suspector-general; she is a wench turned doctor, which it is against
+reason. Shan't doctor _me_ for one; but that there old Giles, he says he
+is agreeable, if so be she wool doctor him cheap--cussed old fool!--as if
+any doctoring was cheap that kills a body and doan't cure 'em. Dear
+heart, I forgot to tell ye about the ponds. Well, you know there be no
+wells here. We makes our tea out of the ponds, and capital good tea to
+drink, far before well water, for I mind that one day about twenty years
+agone some interfering body did cart a barrel up from Islip; and if we
+wants water withouten tea, why, we can get plenty on't, and none too much
+malt and hops, at 'The Black Horse.' So this here young 'oman she
+suspects the poor ponds and casts a hevil-eye on them, and she borrows
+two mugs of Giles, and carries the water home to suspect it closer. That
+is all she have done at present, but, ye see, she haan't been here so
+very long. You mark my words, miss, that young 'oman will turn Hillstoke
+village topsy-turvy or ever she goes back to London town."
+
+"Nonsense, Sally," said Zoe; "how can anybody do that while my brother
+and I are alive?" She then slipped half a crown into Sally's hand, and
+led the way to Islip.
+
+On the road her conversation with Oxmoor took a turn suggestive of this
+interview. I forget which began it; but they differed a little in
+opinion, Uxmoor admiring Miss Gale's zeal and activity, and Zoe fearing
+that she would prove a rash reformer, perhaps a reckless innovator.
+
+"And really," said she, "why disturb things? for, go where I will, I see
+no such Paradise as these two villages."
+
+"They are indeed lovely," said Uxmoor; "but my own village is very
+pretty. Yet on nearer inspection I have found so many defects, especially
+in the internal arrangements of the cottages, that I am always glad to
+hear of a new eye having come to bear on any village."
+
+"I know you are very good," said Zoe, "and wish all the poor people about
+you to be as healthy and as happy as possible."
+
+"I really do," said, warmly. "I often think of the strange inequality in
+the lot of men. Living in the country, I see around me hundreds of men
+who are by nature as worthy as I am, or thereabouts. Yet they must toil
+and labor, and indeed fight, for bare food and clothing, all their lives,
+and worse off at the close of their long labor. That is what grieves me
+to the heart. All this time I revel in plenty and luxuries--not
+forgetting the luxury of luxuries, the delight of giving to those who
+need and deserve. What have I done for all this? I have been born of the
+right parents. My merit, then, is the accident of an accident. But having
+done nothing meritorious before I was born, surely I ought to begin
+afterward. I think a man born to wealth ought to doubt his moral title to
+it, and ought to set to work to prove it--ought to set himself to repair
+the injustice of fortune by which he profits. Yes, such a man should be a
+sort of human sunshine, and diffuse blessings all round him. The poor man
+that encounters him ought to bless the accident. But there, I am not
+eloquent. You know how much more I mean than I can say."
+
+"Indeed I do," said Zoe, "and I honor you."
+
+"Ah, Miss Vizard," said Uxmoor, "that is more than I can ever deserve."
+
+"You are praising me at your own expense," said Zoe. "Well, then," said
+she, sweetly, "please accept my sympathy. It is so rare to find a
+gentleman of your age thinking so little of himself and so much of poor
+people. Yet that is a Divine command. But somehow we forget our religion
+out of church--most of us. I am sure I do, for one."
+
+This conversation brought them to the village, and there they met Vizard,
+and Zoe repeated old Sally's discourse to him word for word. He shook his
+head solemnly, and said he shared her misgivings. "We have caught a
+Tartar."
+
+On arriving at Vizard Court, they found Miss Gale had called and left two
+cards.
+
+
+Open rivalry having now commenced between Uxmoor and Severne, his
+lordship was adroit enough to contrive that the drag should be in request
+next day.
+
+Then Severne got Fanny to convey a note to Zoe, imploring her to open her
+bedroom window and say good-night to him the last. "For," said he, "I
+have no coach and four, and I am very unhappy."
+
+This and his staying sullenly at home spoiled Zoe's ride, and she was
+cool to Uxmoor, and spoiled his drive.
+
+At night Zoe peeped through the curtain and saw Severne standing in the
+moonlight. She drank him in for some time in silence, then softly opened
+her window and looked out. He took a step nearer.
+
+She said, very softly and tenderly, "You are very naughty, and very
+foolish. Go to bed _di-_rectly." And she closed her window with a valiant
+slam; then sat down and sighed.
+
+Same game next day. Uxmoor driving, Zoe wonderfully polite, but chill,
+because he was separating her and Severne. At night, Severne on the wet
+grass, and Zoe remonstrating severely, but not sincerely, and closing the
+window peremptorily she would have liked to keep open half the night.
+
+
+It has often been remarked that great things arise out of small things,
+and sometimes, when in full motion, depend on small things. History
+offers brilliant examples upon its large stage. Fiction has imitated
+history in _un verre d'eau_ and other compositions. To these examples,
+real or feigned, I am now about to add one; and the curious reader may,
+if he thinks it worth while, note the various ramifications at home and
+abroad of a seemingly trivial incident.
+
+They were all seated at luncheon, when a servant came in with a salver,
+and said, "A gentleman to see you, sir." He presented his salver with a
+card upon it. Severne clutched the card, and jumped up, reddening.
+
+"Show him in here," said the hospitable Vizard.
+
+"No, no," cried Severne, rather nervously; "it is my lawyer on a little
+private business."
+
+Vizard told the servant to show the visitor into the library, and take in
+the Madeira and some biscuits.
+
+"It is about a lease," said Ned Severne, and went out rather hurriedly.
+
+"La!" said Fanny, "what a curious name--Poikilus. And what does S. I.
+mean, I wonder?"
+
+"This is enigmatical discourse," said Vizard, dryly. "Please explain."
+
+"Why, the card had Poikilus on it."
+
+"You are very inquisitive," said Zoe, coloring.
+
+"No more than my neighbors. But the man put his salver right between our
+noses, and how could I help seeing Poikilus in large letters, and S. I.
+in little ones up in the corner?"
+
+Said Vizard, "The female eye is naturally swift. She couldn't help seeing
+all that in _half a minute of time;_ for Ned Severne snatched up the card
+with vast expedition."
+
+"I saw that too," said Fanny, defiantly.
+
+Uxmoor put in his word. "Poikilus! That is a name one sees in the
+papers."
+
+"Of course you do. He is one of the humbugs of the day. Pretends to find
+things out; advertises mysterious disappearances; offers a magnificent
+reward--with perfect safety, because he has invented the lost girl's
+features and dress, and her disappearance into the bargain; and I hold
+with the schoolmen that she who does not exist cannot disappear.
+Poikilus, a puffing detective. S. I., Secret Inquiry. _I_ spell Enquiry
+with an E--but Poikilus is a man of the day. What the deuce can Ned
+Severne want of him? I suppose I ought not to object. I have established
+a female detective at Hillstoke. So Ned sets one up at Islip. I shall
+make my own secret arrangements. If Poikilus settles here, he will be
+drawn through the horse-pond by small-minded rustics once a week."
+
+While he was going on like this, Zoe felt uncomfortable, and almost
+irritated by his volubility, and it was a relief to her when Severne
+returned. He had confided a most delicate case to the detective, given
+him written instructions, and stipulated for his leaving the house
+without a word to any one, and, indeed, seen him off--all in seven
+minutes. Yet he returned to our party cool as a cucumber, to throw dust
+in everybody's eyes.
+
+"I must apologize for this intrusion," he said to Vizard; "but my lawyer
+wanted to consult me about the lease of one of my farms, and, finding
+himself in the neighborhood, he called instead of writing."
+
+"Your lawyer, eh?" said Vizard, slyly. "What is your lawyer's name?"
+
+"Jackson," said Ned, without a moment's hesitation.
+
+Fanny giggled in her own despite.
+
+Instead of stopping here, Severne must go on; it was his unlucky day.
+
+"Not quite a gentleman, you know, or I would have inflicted his society
+on you."
+
+"Not quite--eh?" said Harrington, so dryly that Fanny Dover burst into a
+fit of uncontrollable laughter.
+
+But Zoe turned hot and cold to see him blundering thus, and telling lie
+upon lie.
+
+Severne saw there was something wrong, and buried his nose in pigeon pie.
+He devoured it with an excellent appetite, while every eye rested on him;
+Zoe's with shame and misery, Uxmoor's with open contempt, Vizard's with
+good humored satire.
+
+The situation became intolerable to Zoe Vizard. Indignant and deeply
+shocked herself, she still could not bear to see him the butt of others'
+ridicule and contempt. She rose haughtily and marched to the door. He
+raised his head for a moment as she went out. She turned, and their eyes
+met. She gave him such a glance of pity and disdain as suspended the meat
+upon his fork, and froze him into comprehending that something very
+serious indeed had happened.
+
+He resolved to learn from Fanny what it was, and act accordingly. But
+Zoe's maid came in and whispered Fanny. She went out, and neither of the
+young ladies was seen till dinner-time. It was conveyed to Uxmoor that
+there would be no excursion of any kind this afternoon; and therefore he
+took his hat, and went off to pay a visit. He called on Rhoda Gale. She
+was at home. He intended merely to offer her his respects, and to side
+with her generally against these foolish rustics; but she was pleased
+with him for coming, and made herself so agreeable that he spent the
+whole afternoon comparing notes with her upon village life, and the
+amelioration it was capable of. Each could give the other valuable ideas;
+and he said he hoped she would visit his part of the country ere long;
+she would find many defects, but also a great desire to amend them.
+
+This flattered her, naturally; and she began to take an interest in him.
+That interest soon took the form of curiosity. She must know whether he
+was seriously courting Zoe Vizard or not. The natural reserve of a
+well-bred man withstood this at first; but that armor could not resist
+for two mortal hours such a daughter of Eve as this, with her insidious
+questions, her artful statements, her cat-like retreats and cat-like
+returns. She learned--though he did not see how far he had committed
+himself--that he admired Zoe Vizard and would marry her to-morrow if she
+would have him; his hesitation to ask her, because he had a rival, whose
+power he could not exactly measure; but a formidable and permitted rival.
+
+They parted almost friends; and Rhoda settled quietly in her mind he
+should have Zoe Vizard, since he was so fond of her.
+
+Here again it was Severne's unlucky day, and Uxmoor's lucky. To carry
+this same day to a close, Severne tried more than once to get near Zoe
+and ask if he had offended her, and in what. But no opportunity occurred.
+So then he sat and gazed at her, and looked unhappy. She saw, and was not
+unmoved, but would not do more than glance at him. He resigned himself to
+wait till night.
+
+Night came. He went on the grass. There was a light in Zoe's room. It was
+eleven o'clock. He waited, shivering, till twelve. Then the light was put
+out; but no window opened. There was a moon; and her windows glared black
+on him, dark and bright as the eyes she now averted from him. He was in
+disgrace.
+
+The present incident I have recorded did not end here; and I must now
+follow Poikilus on his mission to Homburg; and if the reader has a sense
+of justice, methinks he will not complain of the journey, for see how
+long I have neglected the noblest figure in this story, and the most to
+be pitied. To desert her longer would be too unjust, and derange entirely
+the balance of this complicated story.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+A CRUEL mental stroke, like a heavy blow upon the body, sometimes benumbs
+and sickens at first, but does not torture; yet that is to follow.
+
+It was so with Ina Klosking. The day she just missed Edward Severne, and
+he seemed to melt away from her very grasp into the wide world again, she
+could drag herself to the theater and sing angelically, with a dull and
+aching heart. But next day her heart entered on sharper suffering. She
+was irritated, exasperated; chained to the theater, to Homburg, yet wild
+to follow Severne to England without delay. She told Ashmead she must and
+would go. He opposed it stoutly, and gave good reasons. She could not
+break faith with the management. England was a large place. They had, as
+yet, no clew but a name. By waiting, the clew would come. The sure course
+was to give publicity in England to her winnings, and so draw Severne to
+her. But for once she was too excited to listen to reason. She was
+tempest-tossed. "I will go--I will go," she repeated, as she walked the
+room wildly, and flung her arms aloft with reckless abandon, and yet with
+a terrible majesty, an instinctive grace, and all the poetry of a great
+soul wronged and driven wild.
+
+She overpowered Ashmead and drove him to the director. He went most
+unwillingly; but once there, was true to her, and begged off the
+engagement eagerly. The director refused this plump. Then Ashmead, still
+true to his commission, offered him (most reluctantly) a considerable sum
+down to annul the contract, and backed this with a quiet hint that she
+would certainly fall ill if refused. The director knew by experience what
+this meant, and how easily these ladies can command the human body to
+death's door _pro re nata,_ and how readily a doctor's certificate can be
+had to say or swear that the great creature cannot sing or act without
+peril to life, though really both these arts are grand medicines, and far
+less likely to injure the _bona fide_ sick than are the certifying
+doctor's draughts and drugs. The director knew all this; but he was
+furious at the disappointment threatened him. "No," said he; "this is
+always the way; a poor devil of a manager is never to have a success. It
+is treacherous, it is ungrateful: I'll close. You tell her if she is
+determined to cut all our throats and kick her own good fortune down, she
+can; but, by ----, I'll make her smart for it! Mind, now; she closes the
+theater and pays the expenses, if she plays me false."
+
+"But if she is ill?"
+
+"Let her die and be ----, and then I'll believe her. She is the
+healthiest woman in Germany. I'll go and take steps to have her arrested
+if she offers to leave the town."
+
+Ashmead reported the manager's threats, and the Klosking received them as
+a lioness the barking of a cur. She drew herself swiftly up, and her
+great eye gleamed imperial disdain at all his menaces but one.
+
+"He will not really close the theater," said she, loftily; but uneasiness
+lurked in her manner.
+
+"He will," said Ashmead. "He is desperate: and you know it _is_ hard to
+go on losing and losing, and then the moment luck turns to be done out of
+it, in spite of a written bargain. I've been a manager myself."
+
+"So many poor people!" said Ina, with a sigh; and her defiant head sunk a
+little.
+
+"Oh, bother _them!"_ said Ashmead, craftily. "Let 'em starve."
+
+"God forbid!" said Ina. Then she sighed again, and her queenly head sunk
+lower. Then she faltered out, "I have the will to break faith and ruin
+poor people, but I have not the courage."
+
+Then a tear or two began to trickle, carrying with them all the
+egotistical resolution Ina Klosking possessed at that time. Perhaps we
+shall see her harden: nothing stands still.
+
+This time the poor conquered.
+
+But every now and then for many days there were returns of torment and
+agitation and wild desire to escape to England.
+
+Ashmead made head against these with his simple arts. For one thing, he
+showed her a dozen paragraphs in MS. he was sending to as many English
+weekly papers, describing her heavy gains at the table. "With these
+stones," said he, "I kill two birds: extend your fame, and entice your
+idol back to you." Here a growl, which I suspect was an inarticulate
+curse. Joseph, fi!
+
+The pen of Joseph on such occasions was like his predecessor's coat,
+polychromatic. The Klosking read him, and wondered. "Alas!" said she,
+"with what versatile skill do you descant on a single circumstance not
+very creditable."
+
+"Creditable!" said Ashmead; "it was very naughty, but it is very nice."
+And the creature actually winked, forgetting, of course, whom he was
+winking at, and wasting his vulgarity on the desert air; for the
+Klosking's eye might just manage to blink--at the meridian sun, or so
+forth; but it never winked once in all its life.
+
+One of the paragraphs ran thus, with a heading in small capitals:
+
+
+"A PRIMA DONNA AT THE GAMBLING TABLE.
+
+"Mademoiselle Klosking, the great contralto, whose success has been
+already recorded in all the journals, strolled, on one of her off nights,
+into the Kursaal at Homburg, and sat down to _trente et quarante._ Her
+melodious voice was soon heard betting heavily, with the most engaging
+sweetness of manner; and doubling seven times upon the red, she broke the
+bank, and retired with a charming courtesy and eight thousand pounds in
+gold and notes."
+
+
+Another dealt with the matter thus:
+
+"ROUGE ET NOIR.
+
+"The latest coup at Homburg has been made by a cantatrice whose praises
+all Germany are now ringing. Mademoiselle Klosking, successor and rival
+of Alboni, went to the Kursaal, _pour passer le temps;_ and she passed it
+so well that in half an hour the bank was broken, and there was a pile of
+notes and gold before La Klosking amounting to ten thousand pounds and
+more. The lady waved these over to her agent, Mr. Joseph Ashmead, with a
+hand which, _par parenthe'se,_ is believed to be the whitest in Europe,
+and retired gracefully."
+
+
+On perusing this, La Klosking held _two_ white hands up to heaven in
+amazement at the skill and good taste which had dragged this feature into
+the incident.
+
+"A DRAMATIC SITUATION.
+
+"A circumstance has lately occurred here which will infallibly be seized
+on by the novelists in search of an incident. Mademoiselle Klosking, the
+new contralto, whose triumphant progress through Europe will probably be
+the next event in music, walked into the Kursaal the other night, broke
+the bank, and walked out again with twelve thousand pounds, and that
+charming composure which is said to distinguish her in private life.
+
+"What makes it more remarkable is that the lady is not a gamester, has
+never played before, and is said to have declared that she shall never
+play again. It is certain that, with such a face, figure, and voice as
+hers, she need never seek for wealth at the gambling-table. Mademoiselle
+Klosking is now in negotiation with all the principal cities of the
+Continent. But the English managers, we apprehend, will prove awkward
+competitors."
+
+
+Were I to reproduce the nine other paragraphs, it would be a very
+curious, instructive, and tedious specimen of literature; and, who knows?
+I might corrupt some immaculate soul, inspire some actor or actress,
+singer or songstress, with an itch for public self-laudation, a foible
+from which they are all at present so free. Witness the _Era,_ the
+_Hornet,_ and _Figaro._
+
+Ina Klosking spotted what she conceived to be a defect in these
+histories. "My friend," said she meekly, "the sum I won was under five
+thousand pounds."
+
+"Was it? Yes, to be sure. But, you see, these are English advertisements.
+Now England is so rich that if you keep down to any _Continental_ sum,
+you give a false impression in England of the importance on the spot."
+
+"And so we are to falsify figures? In the first of these legends it was
+double the truth; and, as I read, it enlarges--oh, but it enlarges," said
+Ina, with a Gallicism we shall have to forgive in a lady who spoke five
+languages.
+
+"Madam," said Ashmead, dryly, "you must expect your capital to increase
+rapidly, so long as I conduct it."
+
+Not being herself swift to shed jokes, Ina did not take them rapidly. She
+stared at him. He never moved a muscle. She gave a slight shrug of her
+grand shoulders, and resigned that attempt to reason with the creature.
+
+She had a pill in store for him, though. She told him that, as she had
+sacrificed the longings of her heart to the poor of the theater, so she
+should sacrifice a portion of her ill-gotten gains to the poor of the
+town.
+
+He made a hideously wry face at that, asked what poor-rates were for, and
+assured her that "pauper" meant "drunkard."
+
+"It is not written so in Scripture," said Ina; "and I need their prayers,
+for I am very unhappy."
+
+In short, Ashmead was driven out from the presence chamber with a
+thousand thalers to distribute among the poor of Homburg; and, once in
+the street, his face did not shine like an angel of mercy's, but was very
+pinched and morose; hardly recognizable--poor Joe!
+
+By-and-by he scratched his head. Now it is unaccountable, but certain
+heads often yield an idea in return for that. Joseph's did, and his
+countenance brightened.
+
+Three days after this Ina was surprised by a note from the burgomaster,
+saying that he and certain of the town council would have the honor of
+calling on her at noon.
+
+What might this mean?
+
+She sent to ask for Mr. Ashmead; he was not to be found; he had hidden
+himself too carefully.
+
+The deputation came and thanked her for her munificent act of charity.
+
+She looked puzzled at first, then blushed to the temples. "Munificent
+act, gentlemen! Alas! I did but direct my agent to distribute a small sum
+among the deserving poor. He has done very ill to court your attention.
+My little contribution should have been as private as it is
+insignificant."
+
+"Nay, madam," said the clerk of the council, who was a recognized orator,
+"your agent did well to consult our worthy burgomaster, who knows the
+persons most in need and most deserving. We do not doubt that you love to
+do good in secret. Nevertheless, we have also our sense of duty, and we
+think it right that so benevolent an act should be published, as an
+example to others. In the same view, we claim to comment publicly on your
+goodness." Then he looked to the burgomaster, who took him up.
+
+"And we comment thus: Madam, since the Middle Ages the freedom of this
+town has not been possessed by any female. There is, however, no law
+forbidding it, and therefore, madam, the civic authorities, whom I
+represent, do hereby present to you the freedom of this burgh."
+
+He then handed her an emblazoned vellum giving her citizenship, with the
+reasons written plainly in golden letters.
+
+Ina Klosking, who had remained quite quiet during the speeches, waited a
+moment or two, and then replied, with seemly grace and dignity:
+
+"Mr. Burgomaster and gentlemen, you have paid me a great and unexpected
+compliment, and I thank you for it. But one thing makes me uneasy: it is
+that I have done so little to deserve this. I console myself, however, by
+reflecting that I am still young, and may have opportunities to show
+myself grateful, and even to deserve, in the future, this honor, which at
+present overpays me, and almost oppresses me. On that understanding,
+gentlemen, be pleased to bestow, and let me receive, the rare compliment
+you have paid me by admitting me to citizenship in your delightful town."
+(To herself:) "I'll scold him well for this."
+
+Low courtesy; profound bows; exit deputation enchanted with her; _manet_
+Klosking with the freedom of the city in her hand and ingratitude in her
+heart; for her one idea was to get hold of Mr. Joseph Ashmead directly
+and reproach him severely for all this, which she justly ascribed to his
+machinations.
+
+The cunning Ashmead divined her project, and kept persistently out of her
+way. That did not suit her neither. She was lonely. She gave the waiter a
+friendly line to bring him to her.
+
+Now, mind you, she was too honest to pretend she was not going to scold
+him. So this is what she wrote:
+
+
+"MY FRIEND--Have you deserted me? Come to me, and be remonstrated. What
+have you to fear? You know so well how to defend yourself.
+
+"INA KLOSKING."
+
+
+Arrived in a very few minutes Mr. Ashamed, jaunty, cheerful, and
+defensive.
+
+Ina, with a countenance from which all discontent was artfully extracted,
+laid before him, in the friendliest way you can imagine, an English
+Bible. It was her father's, and she always carried it with her. "I wish,"
+said she, insidiously, "to consult you on a passage or two of this book.
+How do you understand this:
+
+"'When thou doest thine alms, do not send a trumpet before thee, as the
+hypocrites do.'
+
+"And this:
+
+"'When thou doest thine alms, let not thy right hand know what thy left
+hand doeth, that thine alms may be in secret; and thy Father, which seeth
+in secret, shall reward thee openly.'"
+
+Having pointed out these sentences with her finger, she looked to him for
+his interpretation. Joseph, thus erected into a Scripture commentator,
+looked at the passages first near, and then afar off, as if the true
+interpretation depended on perspective. Having thus gained a little time,
+he said, "Well, I think the meaning is clear enough. We are to hide our
+own light under a bushel. But it don't say an agent is to hide his
+employer's.'
+
+"Be serious, sir. This is a great authority."
+
+"Oh, of course, of course. Still--if you won't be offended, ma'am--times
+are changed since then. It was a very small place, where news spread of
+itself; and all that cannot be written for theatrical agents, because
+there wasn't one in creation."
+
+"And so now their little customs, lately invented, like themselves, are
+to prevail against God's im-mor-tal law!" It was something half way
+between Handel and mellowed thunder the way her grand contralto suddenly
+rolled out these three words. Joseph was cunning. He put on a crushed
+appearance, deceived by which the firm but gentle Klosking began to
+soften her tone directly.
+
+"It has given me pain," said she, sorrowfully. "And I am afraid God will
+be angry with us both for our ostentation."
+
+"Not He," said Joseph, consolingly. "Bless your heart, He is not half so
+irritable as the parsons fancy; they confound Him with themselves."
+
+Ina ignored this suggestion with perfect dignity and flowed on: "All I
+stipulate now is that I may not see this pitiable parade in print."
+
+"That is past praying for, then," said Ashmead, resolutely. "You might as
+well try to stop the waves as check publicity--in our day. Your
+munificence to the poor--confound the lazy lot!--and the gratitude of
+those pompous prigs, the deputation--the presentation--your admirable
+reply--"
+
+"You never heard it, now--"
+
+"Which, as you say, I was not so fortunate as to hear, and so must
+content myself with describing it--all this is flying north, south, east,
+and west."
+
+"Oh no, no, no! You have not _advertised_ it?"
+
+"Not advertised it! For what do you take me? Wait till you see the bill I
+am running up against you. Madam, you must take people as they are. Don't
+try to un-Ashmead _me;_ it is impossible. Catch up that knife and kill
+me. I'll not resist; on the contrary, I'll sit down and prepare an
+obituary notice for the weeklies, and say I did it. BUT WHILE I BREATHE I
+ADVERTISE."
+
+And Joseph was defiant; and the Klosking shrugged her noble shoulders,
+and said, "You best of creatures, you are incurable."
+
+To follow this incident to its conclusion, not a week after this scene,
+Ina Klosking detected, in an English paper,
+
+"A CHARITABLE ACT.
+
+"Mademoiselle Klosking, the great contralto, having won a large sum of
+money at the Kursaal, has given a thousand pounds to the poor of the
+place. The civic authorities hearing of this, and desirous to mark their
+sense of so noble a donation, have presented her with the freedom of the
+burgh, written on vellum and gold. Mademoiselle Klosking received the
+compliment with charming grace and courtesy; but her modesty is said to
+have been much distressed at the publicity hereby given to an act she
+wished to be known only to the persons relieved by her charity."
+
+
+Ina caught the culprit and showed him this. "A thousand pounds!" said
+she. "Are you not ashamed? Was ever a niggardly act so embellished and
+exaggerated? I feel my face very red, sir."
+
+"Oh, I'll explain that in a moment," said Joseph, amicably. "Each nation
+has a coin it is always quoting. France counts in francs, Germany in
+thalers, America in dollars, England in pounds. When a thing costs a
+million francs in France, or a million dollars in the States, that is
+always called a million pounds in the English journals: otherwise it
+would convey no distinct idea at all to an Englishman. Turning thalers
+and francs into pounds--_that_ is not _exaggeration;_ it is only
+_translation."_
+
+Ina gave him such a look. He replied with an unabashed smile.
+
+She shrugged her shoulders in silence this time, and, to the best of my
+belief, made no more serious attempts to un-Ashmead her Ashmead.
+
+
+A month had now passed, and that was a little more than half the dreary
+time she had to wade through. She began to count the days, and that made
+her pine all the more. Time is like a kettle. Be blind to him, he flies;
+watch him, he lags. Her sweet temper was a little affected, and she even
+reproached Ashmead for holding her out false hopes that his
+advertisements of her gains would induce Severne to come to her, or even
+write. "No," said she; "there must be some greater attraction. Karl says
+that Miss Vizard, who called upon me, was a beauty, and dark. Perhaps she
+was the lovely girl I saw at the opera. She has never been there since:
+and he is gone to England with people of that name."
+
+"Well, but that Miss Vizard called on you. She can't intend to steal him
+from you."
+
+"But she may not know; a woman may injure another without intending. He
+may deceive her; he has betrayed me. Her extraordinary beauty terrifies
+me. It enchanted me; and how much more a man?"
+
+Joseph said he thought this was all fancy; and as for his advertisements,
+it was too early yet to pronounce on their effect.
+
+The very day after this conversation he bounced into her room in great
+dudgeon. "There, madam! the advertisements _have_ produced an effect; and
+not a pleasant one. Here's a detective on to us. He is feeling his way
+with Karl. I knew the man in a moment; calls himself Poikilus in print,
+and Smith to talk to; but he is Aaron at the bottom of it all, and can
+speak several languages. Confound their impudence! putting a detective on
+to _us,_ when it is they that are keeping dark."
+
+"Who do you think has sent him?" asked Ina, intently.
+
+"The party interested, I suppose."
+
+"Interested in what?"
+
+"Why, in the money you won; for he was drawing Karl about that."
+
+"Then _he_ sent the man!" And Ina began to pant and change color.
+
+"Well, now you put it to me, I think so. Come to look at it, it is
+certain. Who else _could_ it be? Here is a brace of sweeps. They wouldn't
+be the worse for a good kicking. You say the word, and Smith shall have
+one, at all events."
+
+"Alas! my friend," said Ina, "for once you are slow. What! a messenger
+comes here direct from _him;_ and are we so dull we can learn nothing
+from him who comes to question us? Let me think."
+
+She leaned her forehead on her white hand, and her face seemed slowly to
+fill with intellectual power.
+
+"That man," said she at last, "is the only link between him and me. I
+must speak to him."
+
+Then she thought again.
+
+"No, not yet. He must be detained in the house. Letters may come to him,
+and their postmarks may give us some clew."
+
+"I'll recommend the house to him."
+
+"Oh, that is not necessary. He will lodge here of his own accord. Does he
+know you?"
+
+"I think not."
+
+"Do not give him the least suspicion that you know he is a detective."
+
+"All right, I won't."
+
+"If he sounds you about the money, say nobody knows much about it, except
+Mademoiselle Klosking. If you can get the matter so far, come and tell
+me. But be _you_ very reserved, for you are not clear."
+
+Ashmead received these instructions meekly, and went into the _salle 'a
+manger_ and ordered dinner. Smith was there, and had evidently got some
+information from Karl, for he opened an easy conversation with Ashmead,
+and it ended in their dining together.
+
+Smith played the open-handed country man to the life--stood champagne.
+Ashmead chattered, and seemed quite off his guard. Smith approached the
+subject cautiously. "Gamble here as much as ever?"
+
+"All day, some of them."
+
+"Ladies and all?"
+
+"Why, the ladies are the worst."
+
+ "No; are they now? Ah, that reminds me. I heard there was a lady in this
+very house won a pot o' money."
+
+"It is true. I am her agent."
+
+"I suppose she lost it all next day?"
+
+"Well, not all, for she gave a thousand pounds to the poor."
+
+"The dressmakers collared the rest?"
+
+"I cannot say. I have nothing to do except with her theatrical business.
+She will make more by that than she ever made at play."
+
+"What, is she tip-top?"
+
+"The most rising singer in Europe."
+
+"I should like to see her."
+
+"That you can easily do. She sings tonight. I'll pass you in."
+
+"You are a good fellow. Have a bit of supper with me afterward. Bottle of
+fizz."
+
+These two might be compared to a couple of spiders, each taking the other
+for a fly. Smith was enchanted with Ina's singing, or pretended. Ashmead
+was delighted with him, or pretended.
+
+"Introduce me to her," said Smith.
+
+"I dare not do that. You are not professional, are you?"
+
+"No, but you can say I am, for a lark."
+
+Ashmead said he should like to; but it would not do, unless he was very
+wary.
+
+"Oh, I'm fly," said the other. "She won't get anything out of me. I've
+been behind the scenes often enough."
+
+Then Ashmead said he would go and ask her if he might present a London
+manager to her.
+
+He soon brought back the answer. "She is too tired to-night: but I
+pressed her, and she says she will be charmed if you will breakfast with
+her to-morrow at eleven." He did not say that he was to be with her at
+half-past ten for special instructions. They were very simple. "My
+friend," said she, "I mean to tell this man something which he will think
+it his duty to telegraph or write to _him_ immediately. It was for this I
+would not have the man to supper, being after post-time. This morning he
+shall either write or telegraph, and then, if you are as clever in this
+as you are in some things, you will watch him, and find out the address
+he sends to."
+
+Ashmead listened very attentively, and fell into a brown study.
+
+"Madam," said he at last, "this is a first-rate combination. You make him
+communicate with England, and I will do the rest. If he telegraphs, I'll
+be at his heels. If he goes to the post, I know a way. If he posts in the
+house, he makes it too easy."
+
+At eleven Ashmead introduced his friend "Sharpus, manager of Drury Lane
+Theater," and watched the fencing match with some anxiety, Ina being
+little versed in guile. But she had tact and self-possession; and she was
+not an angel, after all, but a woman whose wits were sharpened by love
+and suffering.
+
+Sharpus, alias Smith, played his assumed character to perfection. He gave
+the Klosking many incidents of business and professional anecdotes, and
+was excellent company. The Klosking was gracious, and more _bonne enfant_
+than Ashmead had ever seen her. It was a fine match between her and the
+detective. At last he made his approaches.
+
+"And I hear we are to congratulate you on success at _rouge et noir_ as
+well as opera. Is it true that you broke the bank?"
+
+"Perfectly," was the frank reply.
+
+"And won a million?"
+
+"More or less," said the Klosking, with an open smile.
+
+"I hope it was a good lump, for our countrymen leave hundreds of
+thousands here every season."
+
+"It was four thousand nine hundred pounds, sir."
+
+"Phew! Well, I wish it had been double. You are not so close as our
+friend here, madam."
+
+"No, sir; and shall I tell you why?"
+
+"If you like, madam," said Smith, with assumed indifference.
+
+"Mr. Ashmead is a model agent; he never allows himself to see anybody's
+interests but mine. Now the truth is, another person has an interest in
+my famous winnings. A gentleman handed 25 pounds to Mr. Ashmead to play
+with. He did not do so; but I came in and joined 25 pounds  of my own to
+that 25 pounds, and won an enormous sum. Of course, if the gentleman
+chooses to be chivalrous and abandon his claim, he can; but that is not
+the way of the world, you know. I feel sure he will come to me for his
+share some day; and the sooner the better, for money burns the pocket."
+
+Sharpus, alias Smith, said this was really a curious story. "Now
+suppose," said he, "some fine day a letter was to come asking you to
+remit that gentleman his half, what should you do?"
+
+"I should decline; it might be an _escroc._ No. Mr. Ashmead here knows
+the gentleman. Do you not?"
+
+"I'll swear to him anywhere."
+
+"Then to receive his money he must face the eye of Ashmead. Ha! ha!"
+
+The detective turned the conversation, and never came back to the
+subject; but shortly he pleaded an engagement, and took his leave.
+
+Ashmead lingered behind, but Ina hurried him off, with an emphatic
+command not to leave this man out of his sight a moment.
+
+He violated this order, for in five minutes he ran back to tell her, in
+an agitated whisper, that Smith was, at that moment, writing a letter in
+the _salle 'a manger._
+
+"Oh, pray don't come here!" cried Ina, in despair. "Do not lose sight of
+him for a moment."
+
+"Give me that letter to post, then," said Ashmead, and snatched one up
+Ina had directed overnight.
+
+He went to the hotel door, and lighted a cigar; out came Smith with a
+letter in his very hand. Ashmead peered with all his eyes; but Smith held
+the letter vertically in his hand and the address inward. The letter was
+sealed.
+
+Ashmead watched him, and saw he was going to the General Post. He knew a
+shorter cut, ran, and took it, and lay in wait. As Smith approached the
+box, letter in hand, he bustled up in a furious hurry, and posted his own
+letter so as to stop Smith's hand at the very aperture before he could
+insert his letter. He saw, apologized, and drew back. Smith laughed, and
+said, "All right, old man. That is to your sweetheart, or you wouldn't be
+in such a hurry."
+
+"No; it was to my grandmother," said Ashmead.
+
+"Go on," said Smith, and poked the ribs of Joseph. They went home
+jocular; but the detective was no sooner out of the way than Ashmead
+stole up to Ina Klosking, and put his finger to his lips; for Karl was
+clearing away, and in no hurry.
+
+They sat on tenter-hooks and thought he never would go. He did go at
+last, and then the Klosking and Ashmead came together like two magnets.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"All right! Letter to post. Saw address quite plain--Edward Severne,
+Esq."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Vizard Court."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"Taddington--Barfordshire--England."
+
+Ina, who was standing all on fire, now sat down and interlaced her hands.
+"Vizard!" said she, gloomily.
+
+"Yes; Vizard Court," said Ashmead, triumphantly; "that means he is a
+large landed proprietor, and you will easily find him if he is there in a
+month."
+
+"He will be there," said Ina. "She is very beautiful. She is dark, too,
+and he loves change. Oh, if to all I have suffered he adds _that_--"
+
+"Then you will forgive him _that,"_ said Ashmead, shaking his head.
+
+"Never. Look at me, Joseph Ashmead."
+
+He looked at her with some awe, for she seemed transformed, and her
+Danish eye gleamed strangely.
+
+"You who have seen my torments and my fidelity, mark what I say: If he is
+false to me with another woman, I shall kill him--or else I shall hate
+him."
+
+
+She took her desk and wrote, at Ashmead's dictation,
+
+"Vizard Court, Taddington, Barfordshire."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+THE next morning Vizard carried Lord Uxmoor away to a magistrates'
+meeting, and left the road clear to Severne; but Zoe gave him no
+opportunity until just before luncheon, and then she put on her bonnet
+and came downstairs; but Fanny was with her.
+
+Severne, who was seated patiently in his bedroom with the door ajar, came
+out to join them, feeling sure Fanny would openly side with him, or slip
+away and give him his opportunity.
+
+But, as the young ladies stood on the broad flight of steps at the hall
+door, an antique figure drew nigh--an old lady, the shape of an egg, so
+short and stout was she. On her head she wore a black silk bonnet
+constructed many years ago, with a droll design, viz., to keep off sun,
+rain, and wind; it was like an iron coal scuttle, slightly shortened; yet
+have I seen some very pretty faces very prettily framed in such a bonnet.
+She had an old black silk gown that only reached to her ankle, and over
+it a scarlet cloak of superfine cloth, fine as any colonel or queen's
+outrider ever wore, and looking splendid, though she had used it forty
+years, at odd times. This dame had escaped the village ill, rheumatics,
+and could toddle along without a staff at a great, and indeed a fearful,
+pace; for, owing to her build, she yawed so from side to side at every
+step that, to them who knew her not, a capsize appeared inevitable.
+
+"Mrs. Judge, I declare," cried Zoe.
+
+"Ay, Miss Hannah Judge it is. Your sarvant, ma'am;" and she dropped two
+courtesies, one for each lady.
+
+Mrs. Judge was Harrington's old nurse. Zoe often paid a visit to her
+cottage, but she never came to Vizard Court except on Harrington's
+birthday, when the servants entertained all the old pensioners and
+retainers at supper. Her sudden appearance, therefore, and in gala
+costume, astonished Zoe. Probably her face betrayed this, for the old
+lady began, "You wonder to see me here, now, doan't ye?"
+
+"Well, Mrs. Judge," said Zoe, diplomatically, "nobody has a better right
+to come."
+
+"You be very good, miss. I don't doubt my welcome nohow."
+
+"But," said Zoe, playfully, "you seldom do us the honor; so I _am_ a
+little surprised. What can I do for you?"
+
+"You does enough for me, miss, you and young squire. I bain't come to ask
+no favors. I ain't one o' that sort. I'll tell ye why I be come. 'Tis to
+warn you all up here."
+
+"This is alarming," said Zoe to Fanny.
+
+"That is as may be," said Mrs. Judge; "forwarned, forearmed, the by-word
+sayeth. There is a young 'oman a-prowling about this here parish as don't
+belong to _hus."_
+
+"La," said Fanny, "mustn't we visit your parish if we were not born
+there?"
+
+"Don't you take me up before I be down, miss," said the old nurse, a
+little severely. "'Tain't for the likes of you I speak, which you are a
+lady, and visits the Court by permission of squire; but what I objects to
+is--hinterlopers." She paused to see the effect of so big a word, and
+then resumed, graciously, "You see, most of our hills comes from that
+there Hillstoke. If there's a poacher, or a thief, he is Hillstoke; they
+harbors the gypsies as ravage the whole country, mostly; and now they
+have let loose this here young 'oman on to us. She is a POLL PRY: goes
+about the town a-sarching: pries into their housen and their vittels, and
+their very beds. Old Marks have got a muck-heap at his door for his
+garden, ye know. Well, miss, she sticks her parasole into this here, and
+turns it about, as if she was agoing to spread it: says she, 'I must know
+the de-com-po-si-tion of this 'ere, as you keeps under the noses of your
+young folk.' Well, I seed her agoing her rounds, and the folk had told me
+her ways; so I did set me down to my knitting and wait for her, and when
+she came to me I offered her a seat; so she sat down, and says she 'This
+is the one clean house in the village,' says she: 'you might eat your
+dinner off the floor, let alone the chairs and tables.' 'You are very
+good, miss,' says I. Says she, 'I wonder whether upstairs is as nice as
+this?' 'Well,' says I, 'them as keep it downstairs keeps it hup; I don't
+drop cleanliness on the stairs, you may be sure.' 'I suppose not,' says
+she, 'but I should like to see.' That was what I was a-waiting for, you
+know, so I said to her, 'Curiosity do breed curiosity,' says I. 'Afore
+you sarches this here house from top to bottom I should like to see the
+warrant.' 'What warrant?' says she. 'I've no warrant. Don't take me for
+an enemy,' says she. 'I'm your best friend,' says she. 'I'm the new
+doctor.' I told her I had heard a whisper of that too; but we had got a
+parish doctor already, and one was enough. 'Not when he never comes anigh
+you,' says she, 'and lets you go half way to meet your diseases.' 'I
+don't know for that,' says I, and indeed I haan't a notion what she
+meant, for my part; but says I, 'I don't want no women folk to come here
+a-doctoring o' me, that's sartin.' So she said, 'But suppose you were
+very ill, and the he-doctor three miles off, and fifty others to visit
+afore you?' 'That is no odds,' says I; 'I would not be doctored by a
+woman.' Then she says to me, says she, 'Now you look me in the face.' 'I
+can do that,' says I; 'you, or anybody else. I'm an honest woman, _I_
+am;' so I up and looked her in the face as bold as brass. 'Then,' says
+she, 'am I to understand that, if you was to be ill to-morrow, you would
+rather die than be doctored by a woman?' She thought to daant me, you
+see, so I says, 'Well, I don't know as I oodn't.' You do laugh, miss.
+Well, that is what she did. 'All right,' says she. 'Make haste and die,
+my good soul,' says she, 'for, while you live, you'll be a hobelisk to
+reform.' So she went off, but I made to the door, and called after her I
+should die when God pleased, and I had seen a good many young folk laid
+out, that looked as like to make old bones as ever she
+does--chalk-faced--skinny---to-a-d! And I called after her she was no
+lady. No more she ain't, to come into my own house and call a decent
+woman 'a hobelisk!' Oh! oh! Which I never _was,_ not even in my giddy
+days, but did work hard in my youth, and am respect for my old age."
+
+"Yes, nurse, yes; who doubts it?"
+
+"And nursed young squire, and, Lord bless your heart, a was a poor puny
+child when I took him to my breast, and in six months the finest,
+chubbiest boy in all the parish; and his dry-nurse for years arter, and
+always at his heels a-keeping him out of the stable and the ponds, and
+consorting with the village boys; and a proper resolute child he was, and
+hard to manage: and my own man that is gone, and my son 'that's not so
+clever as some,'* I always done justice by them both, and arter all to be
+called a hobelisk--oh! oh! oh!"
+
+     * Paraphrase for the noun substantive "idiot." It is also a
+     specimen of the Greek figure "litotes."
+
+Then behold the gentle Zoe with her arm round nurse's neck, and her
+handkerchief to nurse's eyes, murmuring, "There--there--don't cry, nurse;
+everybody esteems you, and that lady did not mean to affront you; she did
+not say 'obelisk;' she said 'obstacle.' That only means that you stand in
+the way of her improvements; there was not much harm in that, you know.
+And, nurse, please give that lady her way, to oblige me; for it is by my
+brother's invitation she is here."
+
+"Ye doan't say so! What, does he hold with female she-doctoresses?"
+
+"He wishes to _try_ one. She has his authority."
+
+"Ye doan't say so!"
+
+"Indeed I do."
+
+"Con--sarn the wench! why couldn't she says so, 'stead o' hargefying?"
+
+"She is a stranger, and means well; so she did not think it necessary.
+You must take my word for it."
+
+"La, miss, I'll take your'n before hers, you _may_ be sure," said Mrs.
+Judge, with a decided remnant of hostility.
+
+And now a proverbial incident happened. Miss Rhoda Gale came in sight,
+and walked rapidly into the group.
+
+After greeting the ladies, and ignoring Severne, who took off his hat to
+her, with deep respect, in the background, she turned to Mrs. Judge.
+"Well, old lady," said she cheerfully, "and how do you do?"
+
+Mrs. Judge replied, in fawning accents, "Thank you, miss, I be well
+enough to get about. I was a-telling 'em about you--and, to be sure, it
+is uncommon good of a lady like you to trouble so much about poor folk."
+
+"Don't mention it; it is my duty and my inclination. You see, my good
+woman, it is not so easy to cure diseases as people think; therefore it
+is a part of medicine to prevent them: and to prevent them you must
+remove the predisposing causes, and to find out all those causes you must
+have eyes, and use them."
+
+"You are right, miss," said La Judge, obsequiously. "Prevention is better
+nor cure, and they say 'a stitch in time saves nine.'"
+
+"That is capital good sense, Mrs. Judge; and pray tell the villagers
+that, and make them as full of 'the wisdom of nations' as you seem to be,
+and their houses as clean--if you can."
+
+"I'll do my best, miss," said Mrs. Judge, obsequiously; "it is the least
+we can all do for a young lady like you that leaves the pomps and
+vanities, and gives her mind to bettering the condishing of poor folk."
+
+Having once taken this cue and entered upon a vein of flattery, she would
+have been extremely voluble--for villages can vie with cities in
+adulation as well as in detraction--but she was interrupted by a footman
+announcing luncheon.
+
+Zoe handed Mrs. Judge over to the man with a request that he would be
+kind to her, and have her to dine with the servants.
+
+Yellowplush saw the gentlefolks away, and then, parting his legs, and
+putting his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets, delivered himself thus:
+"Well, old girl, am I to give you my harm round to the kitchen, or do you
+know the way by yourself?"
+
+"Young chap," said Mrs. Judge, and turned a glittering eye, "I did know
+the way afore you was born, and I should know it all one if so be you was
+to be hung, or sent to Botany Bay--to larn manners."
+
+Having delivered this shot, she rolled away in the direction of Roast
+Beef.
+
+The little party had hardly settled at the table when they were joined by
+Vizard and Uxmoor: both gentlemen welcomed Miss Gale more heartily than
+the ladies had done, and before luncheon ended Vizard asked her if her
+report was ready. She said it was.
+
+"Have you got it with you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then please hand it to me."
+
+"Oh! it is in my head. I don't write much down; that weakens the memory.
+If you would give me half an hour after luncheon--" She hesitated a
+little.
+
+Zoe jealoused a _te'te-'a-te'te,_ and parried it skillfully. "Oh," said
+she, "but we are all much interested: are not you, Lord Uxmoor?"
+
+"Indeed I am," said Uxmoor.
+
+"So am I," said Fanny, who didn't care a button.
+
+"Yes, but," said Rhoda, "truths are not always agreeable, and there are
+some that I don't like--" She hesitated again, and this time actually
+blushed a little.
+
+The acute Mr. Severne, who had been watching her slyly, came to her
+assistance.
+
+"Look here, old fellow," said he to Vizard, "don't you see that Miss Gale
+has discovered some spots in your paradise? but, out of delicacy, does
+not want to publish them, but to confide them to your own ear. Then you
+can mend them or not."
+
+Miss Gale turned her eyes full on Severne. "You are very keen at reading
+people, sir," said she, dryly.
+
+"Of course he is," said Vizard. "He has given great attention to your
+sex. Well, if that is all, Miss Gale, pray speak out and gratify their
+curiosity. You and I shall never quarrel over the truth."
+
+"I'm not so sure of that," said Miss Gale. "However, I suppose I must
+risk it. I never do get my own way; that's a fact."
+
+After this little ebullition of spleen, she opened her budget. "First of
+all, I find that these villages all belong to one person; so does the
+soil. Nobody can build cottages on a better model, nor make any other
+improvement. You are an absolute monarch. This is a piece of Russia, not
+England. They are all serfs, and you are the czar."
+
+"It is true," said Vizard, "and it sounds horrid, but it works benignly.
+Every snob who can grind the poor does grind them; but a gentleman never,
+and he hinders others. Now, for instance, an English farmer is generally
+a tyrant; but my power limits his tyranny. He may discharge his laborer,
+but he can't drive him out of the village, nor rob him of parish relief,
+for poor Hodge is _my_ tenant, not a snob's. Nobody can build a beershop
+in Islip. That is true. But if they could, they would sell bad beer, give
+credit in the ardor of competition, poison the villagers, and demoralize
+them. Believe me, republican institutions are beautiful on paper; but
+they would not work well in Barfordshire villages. However, you profess
+to go by experience in everything. There are open villages within five
+miles. I'll give you a list. Visit them. You will find that liberty can
+be the father of tyranny. Petty tradesmen have come in and built
+cottages, and ground the poor down with rents unknown in Islip; farmers
+have built cottages, and turned their laborers into slaves. Drunkenness,
+dissipation, poverty, disaffection, and misery--that is what you will
+find in the open villages. Now, in Islip you have an omnipotent squire,
+and that is an abomination in theory, a mediaeval monster, a blot on
+modern civilization; but practically the poor monster is a softener of
+poverty, an incarnate buffer between the poor and tyranny, the poor and
+misery."
+
+"I'll inspect the open villages, and suspend my opinion till then," said
+Miss Gale, heartily; "but, in the meantime, you must admit that where
+there is great power there is great responsibility."
+
+"Oh, of course."
+
+"Well, then, your little outlying province of Hillstoke is full of
+rheumatic adults and putty-faced children. The two phenomena arise from
+one cause--the water. No lime in it, and too many reptiles. It was the
+children gave me the clew. I suspected the cherry stones at first: but
+when I came to look into it, I found they eat just as many cherry stones
+in the valley, and are as rosy as apples; but, then, there is well water
+in the valleys. So I put this and that together, and I examined the water
+they drink at Hillstoke. Sir, it is full of animalcula. Some of these
+cannot withstand the heat of the human stomach; but others can, for I
+tried them in mud artificially heated. [A giggle from Fanny Dover.]
+Thanks to your microscope, I have made sketches of several amphibia who
+live in those boys' stomachs, and irritate their membranes, and share
+their scanty nourishment, besides other injuries." Thereupon she produced
+some drawings.
+
+They were handed round, and struck terror in gentle bosoms. "Oh,
+gracious!" cried Fanny, "one ought to drink nothing but champagne."
+Uxmoor looked grave. Vizard affected to doubt their authenticity. He
+said, "You may not know it, but I am a zoologist, and these are
+antediluvian eccentricities that have long ceased to embellish the world
+we live in. Fie! Miss Gale. Down with anachronisms."
+
+Miss Gale smiled, and admitted that one or two of the prodigies resembled
+antediluvian monsters, but said oracularly that nature was fond of
+producing the same thing on a large scale and a small scale, and it was
+quite possible the small type of antediluvian monster might have survived
+the large.
+
+"That is most ingenious," said Vizard; "but it does not account for this
+fellow. He is not an antediluvian; he is a barefaced modern, for he is A
+STEAM ENGINE."
+
+This caused a laugh, for the creature had a perpendicular neck, like a
+funnel, that rose out of a body like a horizontal cylinder.
+
+"At any rate," said Miss Gale, "the little monster was in the world
+first; so he is not an imitation of man's work."
+
+"Well," said Vizard, "after all, we have had enough of the monsters of
+the deep. Now we can vary the monotony, and say the monsters of the
+shallow. But I don't see how they can cause rheumatism."
+
+"I never said they did," retorted Miss Gale, sharply: "but the water
+which contains them is soft water. There is no lime in it, and that is
+bad for the bones in every way. Only the children drink it as it is: the
+wives boil it, and so drink soft water and dead reptiles in their tea.
+The men instinctively avoid it and drink nothing but beer. Thus, for want
+of a pure diluent with lime in solution, an acid is created in the blood
+which produces gout in the rich, and rheumatism in the poor, thanks to
+their meager food and exposure to the weather."
+
+"Poor things!" said womanly Zoe. "What is to be done?"
+
+"La!" said Fanny, "throw lime into the ponds. That will kill the
+monsters, and cure the old people's bones into the bargain."
+
+This compendious scheme struck the imagination, but did not satisfy the
+judgment of the assembly.
+
+"Fanny!" said Zoe, reproachfully.
+
+"That _would_ be killing two birds with one stone," suggested Uxmoor,
+satirically.
+
+"The tender mercies of the wicked are cruel," explained Vizard,
+composedly.
+
+Zoe reiterated her question, What was to be done?
+
+Miss Gale turned to her with a smile. _"We_ have got nothing to do but to
+point out these abominations. The person to act is the Russian autocrat,
+the paternal dictator, the monarch of all he surveys, and advocate of
+monarchial institutions. He is the buffer between the poor and all their
+ills, especially poison: he must dig a well."
+
+Every eye being turned on Vizard to see how he took this, he said, a
+little satirically, "What! does Science bid me bore for water at the top
+of a hill?"
+
+"She does _so,"_ said the virago. "Now look here, good people."
+
+And although they were not all good people, yet they all did look there,
+she shone so with intelligence, being now quite on her mettle.
+
+"Half-civilized man makes blunders that both the savage and the civilized
+avoid. The savage builds his hut by a running stream. The civilized man
+draws good water to his door, though he must lay down pipes from a
+highland lake to a lowland city. It is only half-civilized man that
+builds a village on a hill, and drinks worms, and snakes, and efts, and
+antediluvian monsters in limeless water. Then I say, if great but half
+civilized monarchs would consult Science _before_ they built their serf
+huts, Science would say, 'Don't you go and put down human habitations far
+from pure water--the universal diluent, the only cheap diluent, and the
+only liquid which does not require digestion, and therefore must always
+assist, and never chemically resist, the digestion of solids.' But when
+the mischief is done, and the cottages are built on a hill three miles
+from water, then all that Science can do is to show the remedy, and the
+remedy is--boring."
+
+"Then the remedy is like the discussion," said Fanny Dover, very pertly.
+
+Zoe was amused, but shocked. Miss Gale turned her head on the offender as
+sharp as a bird. "Of course it is, to _children,"_ said she; "and that is
+why I wished to confine it to mature minds. It is to you I speak, sir.
+Are your subjects to drink poison, or will you bore me a well?--Oh,
+please!"
+
+"Do you hear that?" said Vizard, piteously, to Uxmoor. "Threatened and
+cajoled in one breath. Who can resist this fatal sex?--Miss Gale, I will
+bore a well on Hillstoke common. Any idea how deep we must go--to the
+antipodes, or only to the center?"
+
+"Three hundred and thirty feet, or thereabouts."
+
+"No more? Any idea what it will cost?"
+
+"Of course I have. The well, the double windlass, the iron chain, the two
+buckets, a cupola over the well, and twenty-three keys--one for every
+head of a house in the hamlet--will cost you about 315 pounds."
+
+"Why, this is Detail made woman. How do you know all this?"
+
+"From Tom Wilder."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+"What, don't you know? He is the eldest son of the Islip blacksmith, and
+a man that will make his mark. He casts every Thursday night. He is the
+only village blacksmith in all the county who _casts._ You know that, I
+suppose."
+
+"No, I had not the honor."
+
+"Well, he is, then: and I thought you would consent, because you are so
+good: and so I thought there could be no harm in sounding Tom Wilder. He
+offers to take the whole contract, if squire's agreeable; bore the well;
+brick it fifty yards down: he says that ought to be done, if she is to
+have justice. 'She' is the well: and he will also construct the gear; he
+says there must be two iron chains and two buckets going together; so
+then the empty bucket descending will help the man or woman at the
+windlass to draw the full bucket up. 315 pounds: one week's income, your
+Majesty."
+
+"She has inspected our rent-roll, now," said Vizard, pathetically: "and
+knows nothing about the matter."
+
+"Except that it is a mere flea-bite to you to bore through a hill for
+water. For all that, I hope you will leave me to battle it with Tom
+Wilder. Then you won't be cheated, for once. _You always are,_ and it is
+abominable. It would have been five hundred if you had opened the
+business."
+
+"I am sure that is true," said Zoe. She added this would please Mrs.
+Judge: she was full of the superiority of Islip to Hillstoke.
+
+"Stop a bit," said Vizard. "Miss Gale has not reported on Islip yet."
+
+"No, dear; but she has looked into everything, for Mrs. Judge told me.
+You have been into the cottages?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Into Marks's?"
+
+"Yes, I have been into Marks's."
+
+She did not seem inclined to be very communicative; so Fanny, out of
+mischief, said, pertly, "And what did you see there, with your Argus
+eye?"
+
+"I saw--three generations."
+
+"Ha! ha! La! did you now? And what were they all doing?"
+
+"They were all living together, night and day, in one room."
+
+This conveyed no very distinct idea to the ladies; but Vizard, for the
+first time, turned red at this revelation before Uxmoor, improver of
+cottage life. "Confound the brutes!" said he. "Why, I built them a new
+room; a larger one: didn't you see it?"
+
+"Yes. They stack their potatoes in it."
+
+"Just like my people," said Uxmoor. "That is the worst of it: they resist
+their own improvement."
+
+"Yes, but," said the doctress, "with monarchial power we can trample on
+them for their good. Outside Marks's door at the back there is a
+muck-heap, as he calls it; all the refuse of the house is thrown there;
+it is a horrible melange of organic matter and decaying vegetables, a
+hot-bed of fever and malaria. Suffocated and poisoned with the breath of
+a dozen persons, they open the window for fresh air, and in rushes
+typhoid from the stronghold its victims have built. Two children were
+buried from that house last year. They were both killed by the domestic
+arrangements as certainly as if they had been shot with a double-barreled
+pistol. The outside roses you admire so are as delusive as flattery;
+their sweetness covers a foul, unwholesome den."
+
+"Marks's cottage! The show place of the village!" Zoe Vizard flushed with
+indignation at the bold hand of truth so rudely applied to a pleasant and
+cherished illusion.
+
+Vizard, more candid and open to new truths, shrugged his shoulders, and
+said, "What can I do more than I have done?"
+
+"Oh, it is not your fault," said the doctress, graciously. "It is theirs.
+Only, as you are their superior in intelligence and power, you might do
+something to put down indecency, immorality, and disease."
+
+"May I ask what?"
+
+"Well, you might build a granary for the poor people's potatoes. No room
+can keep them dry; but you build your granary upon four pillars: then
+that is like a room over a cellar."
+
+"Well, I'll build it so--if I build it at all," said Vizard, dryly. "What
+next?"
+
+"Then you could make them stack their potatoes in the granary, and use
+the spare room, and so divide their families, and give morality a chance.
+The muck-heap you should disperse at once with the strong hand of power."
+
+At this last proposal, Squire Vizard--the truth must be told--delivered a
+long, plowman's whistle at the head of his own table.
+
+"Pheugh!" said he; "for a lady that is more than half republican, you
+seem to be taking very kindly to monarchial tyranny."
+
+"Well, now, I'll tell you the truth," said she. "You have converted me.
+Ever since you promised me the well, I have discovered that the best form
+of government is a good-hearted tyrant."
+
+"With a female viceroy over him, eh?"
+
+"Only in these little domestic matters," said Rhoda, deprecatingly.
+"Women are good advisers in such things. The male physician relies on
+drugs. Medical women are wanted to moderate that delusion; to prevent
+disease by domestic vigilance, and cure it by selected esculents and pure
+air. These will cure fifty for one that medicine can; besides drugs kill
+ever so many: these never killed a creature. You will give me the
+granary, won't you? Oh, and there's a black pond in the center of the
+village. Your tenant Pickett, who is a fool--begging his pardon--lets all
+his liquid manure run out of his yard into the village till it
+accumulates in a pond right opposite the five cottages they call New
+Town, and its exhalations taint the air. There are as many fevers in
+Islip as in the back slums of a town. You might fill the pond up with
+chalk, and compel Pickett to sink a tank in his yard, and cover it; then
+an agricultural treasure would be preserved for its proper use, instead
+of being perverted into a source of infection."
+
+Vizard listened civilly, and, as she stopped, requested her to go on.
+
+"I think we have had enough," said Zoe, bitterly.
+
+Rhoda, who was in love with Zoe, hung her head, and said, "Yes; I have
+been very bold."
+
+"Fiddlestick!" said Vizard. "Never mind those girls. _You_ speak out like
+a man: a stranger's eye always discovers things that escape the natives.
+Proceed."
+
+"No; I won't proceed till I have explained to Miss Vizard."
+
+"You may spare yourself the trouble. Miss Vizard thought Islip was a
+paradise. You have dispelled the illusion, and she will never forgive
+you. Miss Dover will; because she is like Gallio--she careth for none of
+these things."
+
+"Not a pin," said Fanny, with admirable frankness.
+
+"Well, but," said Rhoda, naively, "I can't bear Miss Vizard to be angry
+with me; I admire her so. Please let me explain. Islip is no
+paradise--quite the reverse; but the faults of Islip are not _your_
+faults. The children are ignorant; but you pay for a school. The people
+are poor from insufficient wages; but you are not paymaster. _Your_
+gardeners, _your_ hinds, and all your outdoor people have enough. You
+give them houses. You let cottages and gardens to the rest at half their
+value; and very often they don't pay that, but make excuses; and you
+accept them, though they are all stories; for they can pay everybody but
+you, and their one good bargain is with you. Miss Vizard has carried a
+basket all her life with things from your table for the poor."
+
+Miss Vizard blushed crimson at this sudden revelation.
+
+"If a man or a woman has served your house long, there's a pension for
+life. You are easy, kind, and charitable. It is the faults of others I
+ask you to cure, because you have such power. Now, for instance, if the
+boys at Hillstoke are putty-faced, the boys at Islip have no calves to
+their legs. That is a sure sign of deteriorating species. The lower type
+of savage has next to no calf. The calf is a sign of civilization and due
+nourishment. This single phenomenon was my clew, and led me to others;
+and I have examined the mothers and the people of all ages, and I tell
+you it is a village of starvelings. Here a child begins life a
+starveling, and ends as he began. The nursing mother has not food enough
+for one, far less for two. The man's wages are insufficient, and the diet
+is not only insufficient, but injudicious. The race has declined. There
+are only five really big, strong men--Josh Grace, Will Hudson, David
+Wilder, Absalom Green, and Jack Greenaway; and they are all over
+fifty--men of another generation. I have questioned these men how they
+were bred, and they all say milk was common when they were boys. Many
+poor people kept a cow; squire doled it; the farmers gave it or sold it
+cheap; but nowadays it is scarcely to be had. Now, that is not your
+fault, but you are the man who can mend it. New milk is meat and drink
+especially to young and growing people. You have a large meadow at the
+back of the village. If you could be persuaded to start four or five
+cows, and let somebody sell the new milk to the poor at cost price--say,
+five farthings the quart. You must not give it, or they will water their
+muckheaps with it. With those cows alone you will get rid, in the next
+generation, of the half-grown, slouching men, the hollow-eyed,
+narrow-chested, round-backed women, and the calfless boys one sees all
+over Islip, and restore the stalwart race that filled the little village
+under your sires and have left proofs of their wholesome food on the
+tombstones: for I have read every inscription, and far more people
+reached eighty-five between 1750 and 1800 than between 1820 and 1870. Ah,
+how I envy you to be able to do such great things so easily! Water to
+poisoned Hillstoke with one hand; milk to starved Islip with the other.
+This is to be indeed a king!"
+
+The enthusiast rose from the table in her excitement, and her face was
+transfigured; she looked beautiful for the moment.
+
+"I'll do it," shouted Vizard; "and you are a trump."
+
+Miss Gale sat down, and the color left her cheek entirely.
+
+Fanny Dover, who had a very quick eye for passing events, cried out, "Oh
+dear! she is going to faint _now."_ The tone implied, what a plague she
+is!
+
+Thereupon Severne rushed to her, and was going to sprinkle her face; but
+she faltered, "No! no! a glass of wine." He gave her one with all the
+hurry and empressement in the world. She fixed him with a strange look as
+she took it from him: she sipped it; one tear ran into it. She said she
+had excited herself; but she was all right now. Elastic Rhoda!
+
+"I am very glad of it," said Vizard. "You are quite strong enough without
+fainting. For Heaven's sake, don't add woman's weakness to your
+artillery, or you will be irresistible; and I shall have to divide Vizard
+Court among the villagers. At present I get off cheap, and Science on the
+Rampage: let me see--only a granary, a well, and six cows."
+
+"They'll give as much milk as twelve cows without the well," said Fanny.
+It was her day for wit.
+
+This time she was rewarded with a general laugh.
+
+It subsided, as such things will, and then Vizard said, solemnly, "New
+ideas are suggested to me by this charming interview; and permit me to
+give them a form, which will doubtless be new to these accomplished
+ladies:
+
+"'Gin there's a hole in a' your coats, I rede ye tent it; A chiel's amang
+ye takin' notes, And, faith, he'll prent it.'"
+
+Zoe looked puzzled, and Fanny inquired what language that was.
+
+"Very good language."
+
+"Then perhaps you will translate it into language one can understand."
+
+"The English of the day, eh?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You think that would improve it, do you? Well, then:
+
+'If there is a defect in any one of your habilimeats, Let me earnestly
+impress on you the expediency of repairing it; An individual is among you
+with singular powers of observation, Which will infallibly result in
+printing and publication.'
+
+Zoe, you are an affectionate sister; take this too observant lady into
+the garden, poison her with raw fruit, and bury her under a pear tree."
+
+Zoe said she would carry out part of the programme, if Miss Gale would
+come.
+
+Then the ladies rose and rustled away, and the rivals would have
+followed, but Vizard detained them on the pretense of consulting them
+about the well; but, when the ladies had gone, he owned he had done it
+out of his hatred to the sex. He said he was sure both girls disliked his
+virago in their hearts, so he had compelled them to spend an hour
+together, without any man to soften their asperity.
+
+This malicious experiment was tolerably successful. The three ladies
+strolled together, dismal as souls in purgatory. One or two little
+attempts at conversation were made, but died out for want of sympathy.
+Then Fanny tried personalities, the natural topic of the sex in general.
+
+"Miss Gale, which do you admire most, Lord Uxmoor or Mr. Severne?"
+
+"For their looks?"
+
+"Oh, of course."
+
+"Mr. Severne."
+
+"You don't admire beards, then?"
+
+"That depends. Where the mouth is well shaped and expressive, the beard
+spoils it. Where it is commonplace, the beard hides its defect, and gives
+a manly character. As a general rule, I think the male bird looks well
+with his crest and feathers."
+
+"And so do I," said Fanny, warmly; "and yet I should not like Mr. Severne
+to have a beard. Don't you think he is very handsome?"
+
+"He is something more," said Rhoda. "He is beautiful. If he was dressed
+as a woman, the gentlemen would all run after him. I think his is the
+most perfect oval face I ever saw."
+
+"But you must not fall in love with him," said Fanny.
+
+"I do not mean to," said Rhoda. "Falling in love is not my business: and
+if it was, I should not select Mr. Severne."
+
+"Why not, pray?" inquired Zoe haughtily. Her manner was so menacing that
+Rhoda did not like to say too much just then. She felt her way. "I am a
+physiognomist," said she, "and I don't think he can be very truthful. He
+is old of his age, and there are premature marks under his eyes that
+reveal craft, and perhaps dissipation. These are hardly visible in the
+room, but they are in the open air, when you get the full light of day.
+To be sure, just now his face is marked with care and anxiety; that young
+man has a good deal on his mind."
+
+Here the observer discovered that even this was a great deal too much.
+Zoe was displeased, and felt affronted by her remarks, though she did not
+condescend to notice them; so Rhoda broke off and said, "It is not fair
+of you, Miss Dover, to set me giving my opinion of people you must know
+better than I do. Oh, what a garden!" And she was off directly on a tour
+of inspection. "Come along," said she, "and I will tell you their names
+and properties."
+
+They could hardly keep up with her, she was so eager. The fruits did not
+interest her, but only the simples. She was downright learned in these,
+and found a surprising number. But the fact is, Mr. Lucas had a respect
+for his predecessors. What they had planted, he seldom uprooted--at
+least, he always left a specimen. Miss Gale approved his system highly,
+until she came to a row of green leaves like small horseradish, which was
+planted by the side of another row that really was horseradish.
+
+"This is too bad, even for Islip," said Miss Gale. "Here is one of our
+deadliest poisons planted by the very side of an esculent herb, which it
+resembles. You don't happen to have hired the devil for gardener at any
+time, do you? Just fancy! any cook might come out here for horseradish,
+and gather this plant, and lay you all dead at your own table. It is the
+Aconitum of medicine, the Monk's-hood or Wolf's-bane' of our ancestors.
+Call the gardener, please, and have every bit of it pulled up by the
+roots. None of your lives are safe while poisons and esculents are
+planted together like this."
+
+And she would not budge till Zoe directed a gardener to dig up all the
+Aconite. A couple of them went to work and soon uprooted it. The
+gardeners then asked if they should burn it.
+
+"Not for all the world," said Miss Gale. "Make a bundle of it for me to
+take home. It is only poison in the hands of ignoramuses. It is most
+sovereign medicine. I shall make tinctures, and check many a sharp ill
+with it. Given in time, it cuts down fever wonderfully; and when you
+check the fever, you check the disease."
+
+Soon after this Miss Gale said she had not come to stop; she was on her
+way to Taddington to buy lint and German styptics, and many things useful
+in domestic surgery. "For," said she, "the people at Hillstoke are
+relenting; at least, they run to me with their cut fingers and black
+eyes, though they won't trust me with their sacred rheumatics. I must
+also supply myself with vermifuges till the well is dug, and so mitigate
+puerile puttiness and internal torments."
+
+The other ladies were not sorry to get rid of an irrelevant zealot, who
+talked neither love, nor dress, nor anything that reaches the soul.
+
+So Zoe said, "What, going already?" and having paid that tax to
+politeness, returned to the house with alacrity.
+
+But the doctress would not go without her Wolf's-bane, Aconite ycleped.
+
+The irrelevant zealot being gone, the true business of the mind was
+resumed; and that is love-making, or novelists give us false pictures of
+life, and that is impossible.
+
+As the doctress drove from the front door, Lord Uxmoor emerged from the
+library--a coincidence that made both girls smile; he hoped Miss Vizard
+was not too tired to take another turn.
+
+"Oh no!" said Zoe: "are you, Fanny?"
+
+At the first step they took, Severne came round an angle of the building
+and joined them. He had watched from the balcony of his bedroom.
+
+Both men looked black at each other, and made up to Zoe. She felt
+uncomfortable, and hardly knew what to do. However, she would not seem to
+observe, and was polite, but a little stiff, to both.
+
+However, at last, Severne, having asserted his rights, as he thought,
+gave way, but not without a sufficient motive, as may be gathered from
+his first word to Fanny.
+
+"My dear friend, for Heaven's sake, what is the matter? She is angry with
+me about something. What is it? has she told you?"
+
+"Not a word. But I see she is in a fury with you; and really it is too
+ridiculous. You told a fib; that is the mighty matter, I do believe. No,
+it isn't; for you have told her a hundred, no doubt, and she liked you
+all the better; but this time you have been naughty enough to be found
+out, and she is romantic, and thinks her lover ought to be the soul of
+truth."
+
+"Well, and so he ought," said Ned.
+
+"He isn't, then;" and Fanny burst out laughing so loud that Zoe turned
+round and enveloped them both in one haughty glance, as the exaggerating
+Gaul would say.
+
+"La! there was a look for you!" said Fanny, pertly: "as if I cared for
+her black brows."
+
+"I do, though: pray remember that."
+
+"Then tell no more fibs. Such a fuss about nothing! What is a fib?" and
+she turned up her little nose very contemptuously at all such trivial
+souls as minded a little mendacity.
+
+Indeed, she disclaimed the importance of veracity so imperiously that
+Severne was betrayed into saying, "Well, not much, between you and me;
+and I'll be bound I can explain it."
+
+"Explain it to me, then."
+
+"Well, but I don't know--"
+
+"Which of your fibs it was."
+
+Another silver burst of laughter. But Zoe only vouchsafed a slightly
+contemptuous movement of her shoulders.
+
+"Well, no," said Severne, half laughing himself at the sprightly jade's
+smartness.
+
+"Well, then, that friend of yours that called at luncheon."
+
+Severne turned grave directly. "Yes," said he.
+
+"You said he was your lawyer, and came about a lease."
+
+"So he did."
+
+"And his name was Jackson.
+
+"So it was."
+
+"This won't do. You mustn't fib to _me!_ It was Poikilus, a Secret
+Inquiry; and they all know it; now tell me, without a fib--if you
+can--what ever did you want with Poikilus?"
+
+Severne looked aghast. He faltered out, "Why, how could they know?"
+
+"Why, he advertises, stupid! and Lord Uxmoor and Harrington had seen it.
+Gentlemen _read_ advertisements. That is one of their peculiarities."
+
+"Of course he advertises: that is not what I mean. I did not drop his
+card, did I? No; I am sure I pocketed it directly. What mischief-making
+villain told them it was Poikilus?"
+
+Fanny colored a little, but said, hastily, "Ah, that I could not tell
+you."
+
+"The footman, perhaps?"
+
+"I should not wonder." (What is a fib?)
+
+"Curse him!"
+
+"Oh, don't swear at the servants; that is bad taste."
+
+"Not when he has ruined me?"
+
+"Ruined you?--nonsense! Make up some other fib, and excuse the first."
+
+"I can't. I don't know what to do; and before my rival, too! This
+accounts for the air of triumph he has worn ever since, and her glances
+of scorn and pity. She is an angel, and I have lost her."
+
+"Stuff and nonsense!" said Fanny Dover. "Be a man, and tell me the
+truth."
+
+"Well, I will," said he; "for I am in despair. It is all that cursed
+money at Homburg. I could not clear my estate without it. I dare not go
+for it. She forbade me; and indeed I can't bear to leave her for
+anything; so I employed Poikilus to try and learn whether that lady has
+the money still, and whether she means to rob me of it or not."
+
+Fanny Dover reflected a moment, then delivered herself thus: "You were
+wrong to tell a fib about it. What you must do now--brazen it out. Tell
+her you love her, but have got your pride and will not come into her
+family a pauper. Defy her, to be sure; we like to be defied now and then,
+when we are fond of the fellow."
+
+"I will do it," said he; "but she shuns me. I can't get a word with her."
+
+Fanny said she would try and manage that for him; and as the rest of
+their talk might not interest the reader, and certainly would not edify
+him, I pass on to the fact that she did, that very afternoon, go into
+Zoe's room, and tell her Severne was very unhappy: he had told a fib; but
+it was not intended to deceive her, and he wished to explain the whole
+thing.
+
+"Did he explain it to you?" asked Zoe, rather sharply.
+
+"No; but he said enough to make me think you are using him very hardly.
+To be sure, you have another string to your bow."
+
+"Oh, that is the interpretation you put."
+
+"It is the true one. Do you think you can make _me_ believe you would
+have shied him so long if Lord Uxmoor had not been in the house?"
+
+Zoe bridled, but made no reply, and Fanny went to her own room, laughing.
+
+Zoe was much disturbed. She secretly longed to hear Severne justify
+himself. She could not forgive a lie, nor esteem a liar. She was one of
+those who could pardon certain things in a woman she would not forgive in
+a man. Under a calm exterior, she had suffered a noble distress; but her
+pride would not let her show it. Yet now that he had appealed to her for
+a hearing, and Fanny knew he had appealed, she began to falter.
+
+Still Fanny was not altogether wrong: the presence of a man incapable of
+a falsehood, and that man devoted to her, was a little damaging to
+Severne, though not so much as Miss Artful thought.
+
+However, this very afternoon Lord Uxmoor had told her he must leave
+Vizard Court to-morrow morning.
+
+So Zoe said to herself, "I need not make opportunities; after to-morrow
+he will find plenty."
+
+She had an instinctive fear he would tell more falsehoods to cover those
+he had told; and then she should despise him, and they would both be
+miserable; for she felt for a moment a horrible dread that she might both
+love and despise the same person, if it was Edward Severne.
+
+There were several people to dinner, and, as hostess, she managed not to
+think too much of either of her admirers.
+
+However, a stolen glance showed her they were both out of spirits.
+
+She felt sorry. Her nature was very pitiful. She asked herself was it her
+fault, and did not quite acquit herself. Perhaps she ought to have been
+more open and declared her sentiments. Yet would that have been modest in
+a lady who was not formally engaged? She was puzzled. She had no
+experience to guide her: only her high breeding and her virginal
+instincts.
+
+She was glad when the night ended.
+
+She caught herself wishing the next day was gone too.
+
+When she retired Uxmoor was already gone, and Severne opened the door to
+her. He fixed his eyes on her so imploringly, it made her heart melt; but
+she only blushed high, and went away sad and silent.
+
+As her maid was undressing her she caught sight of a letter on her table.
+"What is that?" said she.
+
+"It is a letter," said Rosa, very demurely.
+
+Zoe divined that the girl had been asked to put it there.
+
+Her bosom heaved, but she would not encourage such proceedings, nor let
+Rosa see how eager she was to hear those very excuses she had evaded.
+
+But, for all that, Rosa knew she was going to read it, for she only had
+her gown taken off and a peignoir substituted, and her hair let down and
+brushed a little. Then she dismissed Rosa, locked the door, and pounced
+on the letter. It lay on her table with the seal uppermost. She turned it
+round. It was not from _him:_ it was from Lord Uxmoor.
+
+She sat down and read it.
+
+
+ "DEAR MISS VIZARD--I have had no opportunities of telling you all I feel
+for you, without attracting an attention that might have been unpleasant
+to you; but I am sure you must have seen that I admired you at first
+sight. That was admiration of your beauty and grace, though even then you
+showed me a gentle heart and a sympathy that made me grateful. But, now I
+have had the privilege of being under the same roof with you, it is
+admiration no longer--it is deep and ardent love; and I see that my
+happiness depends on you. Will you confide _your_ happiness to me? I
+don't know that I could make you as proud and happy as I should be
+myself; but I should try very hard, out of gratitude as well as love. We
+have also certain sentiments in common. That would be one bond more.
+
+"But indeed I feel I cannot make my love a good bargain to you, for you
+are peerless, and deserve a much better lot in every way than I can
+offer. I can only kneel to you and say, 'Zoe Vizard, if your heart is
+your own to give, pray be my lover, my queen, my wife.'
+
+"Your faithful servant and devoted admirer,
+
+"UXMOOR."
+
+
+"Poor fellow!" said Zoe, and her eyes filled. She sat quite quiet, with
+the letter open in her hand. She looked at it, and murmured, "A pearl is
+offered me here: wealth, title, all that some women sigh for, and--what I
+value above all--a noble nature, a true heart, and a soul above all
+meanness. No; Uxmoor will never tell a falsehood. He _could_ not."
+
+She sighed deeply, and closed her eyes. All was still. The light was
+faint; yet she closed her eyes, like a true woman, to see the future
+clearer.
+
+Then, in the sober and deep calm, there seemed to be faint peeps of
+coming things: It appeared a troubled sea, and Uxmoor's strong hand
+stretched out to rescue her. If she married him, she knew the worst--an
+honest man she esteemed, and had almost an affection for, but no love.
+
+As some have an impulse to fling themselves from a height, she had one to
+give herself to Uxmoor, quietly, irrevocably, by three written words
+dispatched that night.
+
+But it was only an impulse. If she had written it, she would have torn it
+up.
+
+Presently a light thrill passed through her: she wore a sort of
+half-furtive, guilty look, and opened the window.
+
+Ay, there he stood in the moonlight, waiting to be heard.
+
+She did not start nor utter any exclamation. Somehow or other she almost
+knew he was there before she opened the window.
+
+"Well?" said she, with a world of meaning.
+
+"You grant me a hearing at last."
+
+"I do. But it is no use. You cannot explain away a falsehood."
+
+"Of course not. I am here to confess that I told a falsehood. But it was
+not you I wished to deceive. I was going to explain the whole thing to
+you, and tell you all; but there is no getting a word with you since that
+lord came."
+
+"He had nothing to do with it. I should have been just as much shocked."
+
+"But it would only have been for five minutes. Zoe!"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Just put yourself in my place. A detective, who ought to have written to
+me in reply to my note, surprises me with a call. I was ashamed that such
+a visitor should enter your brother's house to see me. There sat my
+rival--an aristocrat. I was surprised into disowning the unwelcomed
+visitor, and calling him my solicitor."
+
+Now if Zoe had been an Old Bailey counsel, she would have kept him to the
+point, reminded him that his visitor was unseen, and fixed a voluntary
+falsehood on him; but she was not an experienced cross-examiner, and
+perhaps she was at heart as indignant at the detective as at the
+falsehood: so she missed her advantage, and said, indignantly, "And what
+business had you with a detective? You having one at all, and then
+calling him your solicitor, makes one think all manner of things."
+
+"I should have told you all about it that afternoon, only our intercourse
+is broken off to please a rival. Suppose I gave you a rival, and used you
+for her sake as you use me for his, what would you say? That would be a
+worse infidelity than sending for a detective, would it not?"
+
+Zoe replied, haughtily, "You have no right to say you have a rival; how
+dare you? Besides," said she, a little ruefully, "it is you who are on
+your defense, not me."
+
+"True; I forgot that. Recrimination is not convenient, is it?"
+
+"I can escape it by shutting the window," said Zoe, coldly.
+
+"Oh, don't do that. Let me have the bliss of seeing you, and I will
+submit to a good deal of injustice without a murmur."
+
+"The detective?" said Zoe, sternly.
+
+"I sent for him, and gave him his instructions, and he is gone for me to
+Homburg."
+
+"Ah! I thought so. What for?"
+
+"About my money. To try and find out whether they mean to keep it."
+
+"Would you really take it if they would give it you?"
+
+"Of course I would."
+
+"Yet you know my mind about it."
+
+"I know you forbade me to go for it in person: and I obeyed you, did I
+not?"
+
+"Yes, you did--at the time."
+
+"I do now. You object to my going in person to Homburg. You know I was
+once acquainted with that lady, and you feel about her a little of what I
+feel about Lord Uxmoor; about a tenth part of what I feel, I suppose, and
+with not one-tenth so much reason. Well, I know what the pangs of
+jealousy are: I will never inflict them on you, as you have on me. But I
+_will_ have my money, whether you like or not."
+
+Zoe looked amazed at being defied. It was new to her. She drew up, but
+said nothing.
+
+Severne went on: "And I will tell you why: because without money I cannot
+have you. My circumstances have lately improved; with my money that lies
+in Homburg I can now clear my family estate of all incumbrance, and come
+to your brother for your hand. Oh, I shall be a very bad match even then,
+but I shall not be a pauper, nor a man in debt. I shall be one of your
+own class, as I was born--a small landed gentleman with an unencumbered
+estate."
+
+"That is not the way to my affection. I do not care for money."
+
+"But other people do. Dear Zoe, you have plenty of pride yourself; you
+must let me have a little. Deeply as I love you, I could not come to your
+brother and say, 'Give me your sister, and maintain us both.' No, Zoe, I
+cannot ask your hand till I have cleared my estate; and I cannot clear it
+without that money. For once I must resist you, and take my chance. There
+is wealth and a title offered you. I won't ask you to dismiss them and
+take a pauper. If you don't like me to try for my own money, give your
+hand to Lord Uxmoor; then I shall recall my detective, and let all go;
+for poverty or wealth will matter nothing to me: I shall have lost the
+angel I love: and she once loved me."
+
+He faltered, and the sad cadence of his voice melted her. She began to
+cry. He turned his head away and cried too.
+
+There was a silence. Zoe broke it first.
+
+"Edward," said she, softly.
+
+"Zoe!"
+
+"You need not defy me. I would not humiliate you for all the world. Will
+it comfort you to know that I have been very unhappy ever since you
+lowered yourself so? I will try and accept your explanation."
+
+He clasped his hands with gratitude.
+
+"Edward, will you grant me a favor?"
+
+"Can you ask?"
+
+"It is to have a little more confidence in one who--Now you must obey me
+implicitly, and perhaps we may both be happier to-morrow night than we
+are to-night. Directly after breakfast take your hat and walk to
+Hillstoke. You can call on Miss Gale, if you like, and say something
+civil."
+
+"What! go and leave you alone with Lord Uxmoor?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Ah, Zoe, you know your power. Have a little mercy."
+
+"Perhaps I may have a great deal--if you obey me."
+
+"I _will_ obey you."
+
+"Then go to bed this minute."
+
+She gave him a heavenly smile, and closed the window.
+
+
+Next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, Ned Severne said, "Any
+messages for Hillstoke? I am going to walk up there this morning."
+
+"Embrace my virago for me," said Vizard.
+
+Severne begged to be excused.
+
+He hurried off, and Lord Uxmoor felt a certain relief.
+
+The Master of Arts asked himself what he could do to propitiate the
+female M. D. He went to the gardener and got him to cut a huge bouquet,
+choice and fragrant, and he carried it all the way to Hillstoke. Miss
+Gale was at home. As he was introduced rather suddenly, she started and
+changed color, and said, sharply, "What do you want?" Never asked him to
+sit down, rude Thing!
+
+He stood hanging his head like a culprit, and said, with well-feigned
+timidity, that he came, by desire of Miss Vizard, to inquire how she was
+getting on, and to hope the people were beginning to appreciate her.
+
+"Oh! that alters the case; any messenger from Miss Vizard is welcome. Did
+she send me those flowers, too? They are beautiful."
+
+"No. I gathered them myself. I have always understood ladies loved
+flowers."
+
+"It is only by report you know that, eh? Let me add something to your
+information: a good deal depends on the giver; and you may fling these
+out of the window." She tossed them to him.
+
+The Master of Arts gave a humble, patient sigh, and threw the flowers out
+of the window, which was open. He then sunk into a chair and hid his face
+in his hands.
+
+Miss Gale colored, and bit her lip. She did not think he would have done
+that, and it vexed her economical soul. She cast a piercing glance at
+him, then resumed her studies, and ignored his presence.
+
+But his patience exhausted hers. He sat there twenty minutes, at least,
+in a state of collapse that bid fair to last forever.
+
+So presently she looked up and affected to start. "What! are you there
+still?" said she.
+
+"Yes," said be; "you did not dismiss me; only my poor flowers."
+
+"Well," said she, apologetically, "the truth is, I'm not strong enough to
+dismiss you by the same road."
+
+"It is not necessary. You have only to say, 'Go.'"
+
+"Oh, that would be rude. Could not you go without being told right out?"
+
+"No, I could not. Miss Gale, I can't account for it, but there is some
+strange attraction. You hate me, and I fear you, yet I could follow you
+about like a dog. Let me sit here a little longer and see you work."
+
+Miss Gale leaned her head upon her hand, and contemplated him at great
+length. Finally she adopted a cat-like course. "No," said she, at last;
+"I am going my rounds: you can come with me, if I am so attractive."
+
+He said he should be proud, and she put on her hat in thirty seconds.
+
+They walked together in silence. He felt as if he were promenading a
+tiger cat, that might stop any moment to fall upon him.
+
+She walked him into a cottage: there was a little dead wood burning on
+that portion of the brick floor called the hearth. A pale old man sat
+close to the fire, in a wooden armchair. She felt his pulse, and wrote
+him a prescription.
+
+
+"To Mr. Vizard's housekeeper, Vizard Court:
+
+"Please give the bearer two pounds of good roast beef or mutton, not
+salted, and one pint port wine,
+
+"RHODA GALE, M. D."
+
+
+"Here, Jenny," she said to a sharp little girl, the man's grandniece,
+"take this down to Vizard Court, and if the housekeeper objects, go to
+the front-door and demand in my name to see the squire or Miss Vizard,
+and give _them_ the paper. Don't you give it up without the meat. Take
+this basket on your arm."
+
+Then she walked out of the cottage, and Severne followed her: he ventured
+to say that was a novel prescription.
+
+She explained. "Physicians are obliged to send the rich to the chemist,
+or else the fools would think they were slighted. But we need not be so
+nice with the poor; we can prescribe to do them good. When you inflicted
+your company on me, I was sketching out a treatise, to be entitled, 'Cure
+of Disorders by Esculents.' That old man is nearly exsanguis. There is
+not a drug in creation that could do him an atom of good. Nourishing food
+may. If not, why, he is booked for the long journey. Well, he has had his
+innings. He is fourscore. Do you think _you_ will ever see fourscore--you
+and your vices?"
+
+"Oh, no. But I think _you_ will; and I hope so; for you go about doing
+good."
+
+"And some people one could name go about doing mischief?"
+
+Severne made no reply.
+
+Soon after they discovered a little group, principally women and
+children. These were inspecting something on the ground, and chattering
+excitedly. The words of dire import, "She have possessed him with a
+devil," struck their ear. But soon they caught sight of Miss Gale, and
+were dead silent. She said, "What is the matter? Oh, I see, the vermifuge
+has acted."
+
+It was so: a putty-faced boy had been unable to eat his breakfast; had
+suffered malaise for hours afterward, and at last had been seized with a
+sort of dry retching, and had restored to the world they so adorn a
+number of amphibia, which now wriggled in a heap, and no doubt bitterly
+regretted the reckless impatience with which they had fled from an
+unpleasant medicine to a cold-hearted world.
+
+"Well, good people," said Miss Gale, "what are you making a fuss about?
+Are they better in the boy or out of him?"
+
+The women could not find their candor at a moment's notice, but old Giles
+replied heartily, "Why, hout! better an empty house than a bad tenant."
+
+"That is true," said half a dozen voices at once. They could resist
+common sense in its liquid form, but not when solidified into a proverb.
+
+"Catch me the boy," said Miss Gale, severely.
+
+Habitual culpability destroys self-confidence; so the boy suspected
+himself of crime, and instantly took to flight. His companions loved
+hunting; so three swifter boys followed him with a cheerful yell, secured
+him, and brought him up for sentence.
+
+"Don't be frightened, Jacob," said the doctress. "I only want to know
+whether you feel better or worse."
+
+His mother put in her word: "He was ever so bad all the morning."
+
+"Hold your jaw," said old Giles, "and let the boy tell his own tale."
+
+"Well, then," said Jacob, "I was mortal bad, but now do I feel like a
+feather; wust on't is, I be so blessed hungry now. Dall'd if I couldn't
+eat the devil--stuffed with thunder and lightning."
+
+"I'll prescribe accordingly," said Miss Gale, and wrote in pencil an
+order on a beefsteak pie they had sent her from the Court.
+
+The boy's companions put their heads together over this order, and
+offered their services to escort him.
+
+"No, thank you," said the doctress. "He will go alone, you young monkeys.
+Your turn will come."
+
+Then she proceeded on her rounds, with Mr. Severne at her heels, until it
+was past one o'clock.
+
+Then she turned round and faced him. "We will part here," said she, "and
+I will explain my conduct to you, as you seem in the dark. I have been
+co-operating with Miss Vizard all this time. I reckon she sent you out of
+the way to give Lord Uxmoor his opportunity, so I have detained you.
+While you have been studying medicine, he has been popping the question,
+of course. Good-by, Mr. Villain."
+
+Her words went through the man like cold steel. It was one woman reading
+another. He turned very white, and put his hand to his heart. But he
+recovered himself, and said, "If she prefers another to me, I must
+submit. It is not my absence for a few hours that will make the
+difference. You cannot make me regret the hours I have passed in your
+company. Good-by," and he seemed to leave her very reluctantly.
+
+"One word," said she, softening a little. "I'm not proof against your
+charm. Unless I see Zoe Vizard in danger, you have nothing to fear from
+me. But I love _her,_ you understand."
+
+He returned to her directly, and said, in most earnest, supplicating
+tones, "But will you ever forgive me?"
+
+"I will try."
+
+And so they parted.
+
+He went home at a great rate; for Miss Gale's insinuations had raised
+some fear in his breast.
+
+Meantime this is what had really passed between Zoe and Lord Uxmoor.
+Vizard went to his study, and Fanny retired at a signal from Zoe. She
+rose, but did not go; she walked slowly toward the window; Uxmoor joined
+her: for he saw he was to have his answer from her mouth.
+
+Her bosom heaved a little, and her cheeks flushed. "Lord Uxmoor," she
+said, "you have done me the greatest honor any man can pay a woman, and
+from you it is indeed an honor. I could not write such an answer as I
+could wish; and, besides, I wish to spare you all the mortification I
+can."
+
+"Ah!" said Uxmoor, piteously.
+
+"You are worthy of any lady's love; but I have only my esteem to give
+you, and that was given long ago."
+
+Uxmoor, who had been gradually turning very white, faltered, "I had my
+fears. Good-by."
+
+She gave him her hand. He put it respectfully to his lips: then turned
+and left her, sick at heart, but too brave to let it be seen. He
+preferred her esteem to her pity.
+
+By this means he got both. She put her handkerchief to her eyes without
+disguise. But he only turned at the door to say, in a pretty firm voice,
+"God bless you!"
+
+In less than an hour he drove his team from the door, sitting heartbroken
+and desolate, but firm and unflinching as a rock.
+
+So then, on his return from Hillstoke, Severne found them all at luncheon
+except Uxmoor. He detailed his visit to Miss Gale, and, while he talked,
+observed. Zoe was beaming with love and kindness. He felt sure she had
+not deceived him. He learned, by merely listening, that Lord Uxmoor was
+gone, and he exulted inwardly.
+
+After luncheon, Elysium. He walked with the two girls, and Fanny lagged
+behind; and Zoe proved herself no coquette. A coquette would have been a
+little cross and shown him she had made a sacrifice. Not so Zoe Vizard.
+She never told him, nor even Fanny, she had refused Lord Uxmoor. She
+esteemed the great sacrifice she had made for him as a little one, and so
+loved him a little more that he had cost her an earl's coronet and a
+large fortune.
+
+The party resumed their habits that Uxmoor had interrupted, and no
+warning voice was raised.
+
+The boring commenced at Hillstoke, and Doctress Gale hovered over the
+work. The various strata and their fossil deposits were an endless study,
+and kept her microscope employed. With this, and her treatise on "Cure by
+Esculents" she was so employed that she did not visit the Court for some
+days: then came an invitation from Lord Uxmoor to stay a week with him,
+and inspect his village. She accepted it, and drove herself in the
+bailiff's gig, all alone. She found her host attending to his duties, but
+dejected; so then she suspected, and turned the conversation to Zoe
+Vizard, and soon satisfied herself he had no hopes in that quarter. Yet
+he spoke of her with undisguised and tender admiration. Then she said to
+herself, "This is a man, and he shall have her."
+
+She sat down and wrote a letter to Vizard, telling him all she knew, and
+what she thought, viz., that another woman, and a respectable one, had a
+claim on Mr. Severne, which ought to be closely inquired into, and _the
+lady's version heard._ "Think of it," said she. "He disowned the woman
+who had saved his life, he was so afraid I should tell Miss Vizard under
+what circumstances I first saw him."
+
+She folded and addressed the letter.
+
+But having relieved her mind in some degree by this, she asked herself
+whether it would not be kinder to all parties to try and save Zoe without
+an exposure. Probably Severne benefited by his grace and his disarming
+qualities; for her ultimate resolution was to give him a chance, offer
+him an alternative: he must either quietly retire, or be openly exposed.
+
+So then she put the letter in her desk, made out her visit, of which no
+further particulars can be given at present, returned home, and walked
+down to the Court next morning to have it out with Edward Severne.
+
+
+But, unfortunately, from the very day she offered him terms up at
+Hillstoke, the tide began to run in Severne's favor with great rapidity.
+
+A letter came from the detective. Severne received it at breakfast, and
+laid it before Zoe, which had a favorable effect on her mind to begin.
+
+Poikilus reported that the money was in good hands. He had seen the lady.
+She made no secret of the thing--the sum was 4,900 pounds, and she said
+half belonged to her and half to a gentleman. She did not know him, but
+her agent, Ashmead, did. Poikilus added that he had asked her would she
+honor that gentleman's draft? She had replied she should be afraid to do
+that; but Mr. Ashmead should hand it to him on demand. Poikilus summed up
+that the lady was evidently respectable, and the whole thing square.
+
+Severne posted this letter to his cousin, under cover, to show him he was
+really going to clear his estate, but begged him to return it immediately
+and lend him 50 pounds. The accommodating cousin sent him 50 pounds, to
+aid him in wooing his heiress. He bought her a hoop ring, apologized for
+its small value, and expressed his regret that all he could offer her was
+on as small a scale, except his love.
+
+She blushed, and smiled on him, like heaven opening. "Small and great, I
+take them," said she; and her lovely head rested on his shoulder.
+
+They were engaged.
+
+From that hour he could command a _te'te-'a-te'te_ with her whenever he
+chose, and his infernal passion began to suggest all manner of wild,
+wicked and unreasonable hopes.
+
+Meantime there was no stopping. He soon found he must speak seriously to
+Vizard. He went into his study and began to open the subject. Vizard
+stopped him. "Fetch the other culprit," said he; and when Zoe came,
+blushing, he said, "Now I am going to make shorter work of this than you
+have done. Zoe has ten thousand pounds. What have you got?"
+
+"Only a small estate, worth eight thousand pounds, that I hope to clear
+of all incumbrances, if I can get my money."
+
+"Fond of each other? Well, don't strike me dead with your eyes. I have
+watched you, and I own a prettier pair of turtledoves I never saw. Well,
+you have got love and I have got money. I'll take care of you both. But
+you must live with me. I promise never to marry."
+
+This brought Zoe round his neck, with tears and kisses of pure affection.
+He returned them, and parted her hair paternally.
+
+"This is a beautiful world, isn't it?" said he, with more tenderness than
+cynicism this time.
+
+"Ah, that it is!" cried Zoe, earnestly. "But I can't have you say you
+will never be as happy as I am. There are true hearts in this heavenly
+world; for I have found one."
+
+"I have not, and don't mean to try again. I am going in for the paternal
+now. You two are my children. I have a talisman to keep me from marrying.
+I'll show it you." He drew a photograph from his drawer, set round with
+gold and pearls. He showed it them suddenly. They both started. A fine
+photograph of Ina Klosking. She was dressed as plainly as at the
+gambling-table, but without a bonnet, and only one rose in her hair. Her
+noble forehead was shown, and her face, a model of intelligence,
+womanliness, and serene dignity.
+
+He gazed at it, and they at him and it.
+
+He kissed it. "Here is my Fate," said he. "Now mark the ingenuity of a
+parent. I keep out of my Fate's way. But I use her to keep off any other
+little Fates that may be about. No other humbug can ever catch me while I
+have such a noble humbug as this to contemplate. Ah! and here she is as
+Siebel. What a goddess! Just look at her. Adorable! There, this shall
+stand upon my table, and the other shall be hung in my bedroom. Then, my
+dear Zoe, you will be safe from a stepmother. For I am your father now.
+Please understand that."
+
+This brought poor Zoe round his neck again with such an effusion that at
+last he handed her to Severne, and he led her from the room, quite
+overcome, and, to avoid all conversation about what had just passed, gave
+her over to Fanny, while he retired to compose himself.
+
+By dinner-time he was as happy as a prince again and relieved of all
+compunction.
+
+He heard afterward from Fanny that Zoe and she had discussed the incident
+and Vizard's infatuation, Fanny being specially wroth at Vizard's abuse
+of pearls; but she told him she had advised Zoe not to mention that
+lady's name, but let her die out.
+
+And, in point of fact, Zoe did avoid the subject.
+
+There came an eventful day. Vizard got a letter, at breakfast, from his
+bankers, that made him stare, and then knit his brows. It was about
+Edward Severne' s acceptances. He said nothing, but ordered his horse and
+rode into Taddington.
+
+The day was keen but sunny, and, seeing him afoot so early, Zoe said she
+should like a drive before luncheon. She would show Severne and Fanny
+some ruins on Pagnell Hill. They could leave the trap at the village inn
+and walk up the hill. Fanny begged off, and Severne was very glad. The
+prospect of a long walk up a hill with Zoe, and then a day spent in utter
+seclusion with her, fired his imagination and made his heart beat. Here
+was one of the opportunities he had long sighed for of making passionate
+love to innocence and inexperience.
+
+Zoe herself was eager for the drive, and came down, followed by Rosa with
+some wraps, and waited in the morning-room for the dog-cart. It was
+behind time for once, because the careful coachman had insisted on the
+axle being oiled. At last the sound of wheels was heard. A carriage drew
+up at the door.
+
+"Tell Mr. Severne," said Zoe. "He is in the dining-room, I think."
+
+But it was not the dog-cart.
+
+A vigilant footman came hastily out and opened the hall door. A lady was
+on the steps, and spoke to him, but, in speaking, she caught sight of Zoe
+in the hall. She instantly slipped pass the man and stood within the
+great door.
+
+"Miss Vizard?" said she.
+
+Zoe took a step toward her and said, with astonishment, "Mademoiselle
+Klosking!"
+
+The ladies looked at each other, and Zoe saw something strange was
+coming; for the Klosking was very pale, yet firm, and fixed her eyes upon
+her as if there was nothing else in sight.
+
+"You have a visitor--Mr. Severne?"
+
+"Yes," said Zoe, drawing up.
+
+"Can I speak with him?"
+
+"He will answer for himself. EDWARD!"
+
+At her call Severne came out hastily behind Ina Klosking.
+
+She turned, and they faced each other.
+
+"Ah!" she cried; and in spite of all, there was more of joy than any
+other passion in the exclamation.
+
+Not so he. He uttered a scream of dismay, and staggered, white as a
+ghost, but still glared at Ina Klosking.
+
+Zoe's voice fell on him like a clap of thunder: "What!--Edward!--Mr.
+Severne!--Has this lady still any right--"
+
+"No, none whatever!" he cried; "it is all past and gone."
+
+"What is past?" said Ina Klosking, grandly. "Are you out of your senses?"
+
+Then she was close to him in a moment, by one grand movement, and took
+him by both lapels of his coat, and held him firmly. "Speak before this
+lady," she cried. "Have--I--no--rights--over you?" and her voice was
+majestic, and her Danish eyes gleamed lightning.
+
+The wretch's knees gave way a moment and he shook in her hands. Then,
+suddenly, he turned wild. "Fiend! you have ruined me!" he yelled; and
+then, with his natural strength, which was great, and the superhuman
+power of mad excitement, he whirled her right round and flung her from
+him, and dashed out of the door, uttering cries of rage and despair.
+
+The unfortunate lady, thus taken by surprise, fell heavily, and, by cruel
+ill luck, struck her temple, in falling, against the sharp corner of a
+marble table. It gashed her forehead fearfully, and she lay senseless,
+with the blood spurting in jets from her white temple.
+
+Zoe screamed violently, and the hall and the hall staircase seemed to
+fill by magic.
+
+In the terror and confusion, Harrington Vizard strode into the hall, from
+Taddington. "What is the matter?" he cried. "A woman killed?"
+
+Some one cried out she had fallen.
+
+"Water, fools--a sponge--don't stand gaping!" and he flung himself on his
+knees, and raised the woman's head from the floor. One eager look into
+her white face--one wild cry--"Great God! it is--" He had recognized her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+IT was piteous to see and hear. The blood would not stop; it spurted no
+longer, but it flowed alarmingly. Vizard sent Harris off in his own fly
+for a doctor, to save time. He called for ice. He cried out in agony to
+his servants, "Can none of you think of anything? There--that hat. Here,
+you women; tear me the nap off with your fingers. My God! what is to be
+done? She'll bleed to death!" And he held her to his breast, and almost
+moaned with pity over her, as he pressed the cold sponge to her wound--in
+vain; for still the red blood would flow.
+
+Wheels ground the gravel. Servants flew to the door, crying, "The doctor!
+the doctor!"
+
+As if he could have been fetched in five minutes from three miles off.
+
+Yet it was a doctor. Harris had met Miss Gale walking quietly down from
+Hillstoke. He had told her in a few hurried words, and brought her as
+fast as the horses could go.
+
+She glided in swiftly, keen, but self-possessed, and took it all in
+directly.
+
+Vizard saw her, and cried, "Ah! Help!--she is bleeding to death!"
+
+"She shall not," said Rhoda. Then to one footman, "Bring a footstool,
+_you;"_ to another, _"You_ bring me a cork;" to Vizard, _"You_ hold her
+toward me so. Now sponge the wound."
+
+This done, she pinched the lips of the wound together with her neat,
+strong fingers. "See what I do," she said to Vizard. "You will have to do
+it, while I--Ah, the stool! Now lay her head on that; the other side,
+man. Now, sir, compress the wound as I did, vigorously. Hold the cork,
+_you,_ till I want it."
+
+She took out of her pocket some adhesive plaster, and flakes of some
+strong styptic, and a piece of elastic. "Now," said she to Vizard, "give
+me a little opening in the middle to plaster these strips across the
+wound." He did so. Then in a moment she passed the elastic under the
+sufferer's head, drew it over with the styptic between her finger and
+thumb, and crack! the styptic was tight on the compressed wound. She
+forced in more styptic, increasing the pressure, then she whipped out a
+sort of surgical housewife, and with some cutting instrument reduced the
+cork, then cut it convex, and fastened it on the styptic by another
+elastic. There was no flutter, yet it was all done in fifty seconds.
+
+"There," said she, "she will bleed no more, to speak of. Now seat her
+upright. Why! I have seen her before. This is--sir, you can send the men
+away."'
+
+"Yes; and, Harris, pack up Mr. Severne's things, and bring them down here
+this moment."
+
+The male servants retired, the women held aloof. Fanny Dover came
+forward, pale and trembling, and helped to place Ina Klosking in the hall
+porter's chair. She was insensible still, but moaned faintly.
+
+Her moans were echoed: all eyes turned. It was Zoe, seated apart, all
+bowed and broken--ghastly pale, and glaring straight before her.
+
+"Poor girl!" said Vizard. "We forgot her. It is her heart that bleeds.
+Where is the scoundrel, that I may kill him?" and he rushed out at the
+door to look for him. The man's life would not have been worth much if
+Squire Vizard could have found him then.
+
+But he soon came back to his wretched home, and eyed the dismal scene,
+and the havoc one man had made--the marble floor all stained with
+blood--Ina Klosking supported in a chair, white, and faintly moaning--Zoe
+still crushed and glaring at vacancy, and Fanny sobbing round her with
+pity and terror; for she knew there must be worse to come than this wild
+stupor.
+
+"Take her to her room, Fanny dear," said Vizard, in a hurried, faltering
+voice, "and don't leave her. Rosa, help Miss Dover. Do not leave her
+alone, night nor day." Then to Miss Gale, "She will live? Tell me she
+will live."
+
+"I hope so," said Rhoda Gale. "Oh, the blow will not kill her, nor yet
+the loss of blood. But I fear there will be distress of mind added to the
+bodily shock. And such a noble face! My own heart bleeds for her. Oh,
+sir, do not send her away to strangers! Let me take her up to the farm.
+It is nursing she will need, and tact, when she comes to herself."
+
+"Send here away to strangers!" cried Vizard. "Never! No. Not even to the
+farm. Here she received her wound; here all that you and I can do shall
+be done to save her. Ah, here's Harris, with the villain's things. Get
+the lady's boxes out, and put Mr. Severne's into the fly. Give the man
+two guineas, and let him leave them at the 'Swan,' in Taddington."
+
+He then beckoned down the women, and had Ina Klosking carried upstairs to
+the very room Severne had occupied.
+
+He then convened the servants, and placed them formally under Miss Gale's
+orders, and one female servant having made a remark, he turned her out of
+the house, neck and crop, directly with her month's wages. The others had
+to help her pack, only half an hour being allowed for her exit.
+
+The house seemed all changed. Could this be Vizard Court? Dead
+gloom--hurried whispers--and everybody walking softly, and scared--none
+knowing what might be the next calamity.
+
+Vizard felt sick at heart and helpless. He had done all he could, and was
+reduced to that condition women bear far better than men--he must wait,
+and hope, and fear. He walked up and down the carpeted landing, racked
+with anxiety.
+
+At last there came a single scream of agony from Ina Klosking's room.
+
+It made the strong man quake.
+
+He tapped softly at the door.
+
+Rhoda opened it.
+
+"What is it?" he faltered.
+
+She replied, gravely, "Only what must be. She is beginning to realize
+what has befallen her. Don't come here. You can do no good. I will run
+down to you whenever I dare. Give me a nurse to help, this first night."
+
+He went down and sent into the village for a woman who bore a great name
+for nursing. Then he wandered about disconsolate.
+
+The leaden hours passed. He went to dress, and discovered Ina Klosking's
+blood upon his clothes. It shocked him first, and then it melted him: he
+felt an inexpressible tenderness at sight of it. The blood that had
+flowed in her veins seemed sacred to him. He folded that suit, and tied
+it up in a silk handkerchief, and locked it away.
+
+In due course he sat down to dinner--we are all such creatures of habit.
+There was everything as usual, except the familiar faces. There was the
+glittering plate on the polished sideboard, the pyramid of flowers
+surrounded with fruits. There were even chairs at the table, for the
+servants did not know he was to be quite alone. But he was. One delicate
+dish after another was brought him, and sent away untasted. Soon after
+dinner Rhoda Gale came down and told him her patient was in a precarious
+condition, and she feared fever and delirium. She begged him to send one
+servant up to the farm for certain medicaments she had there, and another
+to the chemist at Taddington. These were dispatched on swift horses, and
+both were back in half an hour.
+
+By-and-by Fanny Dover came down to him, with red eyes, and brought him
+Zoe's love. "But," said she, "don't ask her to come down. She is ashamed
+to look anybody in the face, poor girl."
+
+"Why? what has _she_ done?"
+
+"Oh, Harrington, she has made no secret of her affection; and now, at
+sight of that woman, he has abandoned her."
+
+"Tell her I love her more than I ever did, and respect her more. Where is
+her pride?"
+
+"Pride! she is full of it; and it will help her--by-and-by. But she has a
+bitter time to go through first. You don't know how she loves him."
+
+"What! love him still, after what he has done?"
+
+"Yes! She interprets it this way and that. She cannot bear to believe
+another woman has any real right to separate them."
+
+"Separate them! The scoundrel knocked _her_ down for loving him still,
+and fled from them both. Was ever guilt more clear? If she doubts that he
+is a villain, tell her from me he is a forger, and has given me bills
+with false names on them. The bankers gave me notice to-day, and I was
+coming home to order him out of the house when this miserable business
+happened."
+
+"A forger! is it possible?" said Fanny. "But it is no use my telling her
+that sort of thing. If he had committed murder, and was true to her, she
+would cling to him. She never knew till now how she loved him, nor I
+neither. She put him in Coventry for telling a lie; but she was far more
+unhappy all the time than he was. There is nothing to do but to be kind
+to her, and let her hide her face. Don't hurry her."
+
+"Not I. God help her! If she has a wish, it shall be gratified. I am
+powerless. She is young. Surely time will cure her of a villain, now he
+is detected."
+
+Fanny said she hoped so.
+
+The truth is, Zoe had not opened her heart to Fanny. She clung to her,
+and writhed in her arms; but she spoke little, and one broken sentence
+contradicted the other. But mental agony, like bodily, finds its vent,
+not in speech, the brain's great interpreter, but in inarticulate cries,
+and moans, and sighs, that prove us animals even in the throes of mind.
+Zoe was in that cruel stage of suffering.
+
+So passed that miserable day.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+INA KLOSKING recovered her senses that evening, and asked Miss Gale where
+she was. Miss Gale told her she was in the house of a friend.
+
+"What friend?"
+
+"That," said Miss Gale, "I will tell you by-and-by. You are in good
+hands, and I am your physician."
+
+"I have heard your voice before," said Ina, "but I know not where; and it
+is so dark! Why is it so dark?"
+
+"Because too much light is not good for you. You have met with an
+accident."
+
+"What accident, madam?"
+
+"You fell and hurt your poor forehead. See, I have bandaged it, and now
+you must let me wet the bandage--to keep your brow cool."
+
+"Thank you, madam," said Ina, in her own sweet but queenly way. "You are
+very good to me. I wish I could see your face more clearly. I know your
+voice." Then, after a silence, during which Miss Gale eyed her with
+anxiety, she said, like one groping her way to the truth,
+"I--fell--and--hurt--my forehead?--_Ah!"_
+
+Then it was she uttered the cry that made Vizard quake at the door, and
+shook for a moment even Rhoda's nerves, though, as a rule, they were iron
+in a situation of this kind.
+
+It had all come back to Ina Klosking.
+
+After that piteous cry she never said a word. She did nothing but think,
+and put her hand to her head.
+
+And soon after midnight she began to talk incoherently.
+
+The physician could only proceed by physical means. She attacked the
+coming fever at once, with the remedies of the day, and also with an
+infusion of monk's-hood. That poison, promptly administered, did not
+deceive her. She obtained a slight perspiration, which was so much gained
+in the battle.
+
+In the morning she got the patient shifted into another bed, and she
+slept a little after that. But soon she was awake, restless, and raving:
+still her character pervaded her delirium. No violence. Nothing any sore
+injured woman need be ashamed to have said: only it was all disconnected.
+One moment she was speaking to the leader of the orchestra, at another to
+Mr. Ashmead, at another, with divine tenderness, to her still faithful
+Severne. And though not hurried, as usual in these cases, it was almost
+incessant and pitiable to hear, each observation was so wise and good;
+yet, all being disconnected, the hearer could not but feel that a noble
+mind lay before him, overthrown and broken into fragments like some Attic
+column.
+
+In the middle of this the handle was softly turned, and Zoe Vizard came
+in, pale and somber.
+
+Long before this she had said to Fanny several times, "I ought to go and
+see her;" and Fanny had said, "Of course you ought."
+
+So now she came. She folded her arms and stood at the foot of the bed,
+and looked at her unhappy rival, unhappy as possible herself.
+
+What contrary feelings fought in that young breast! Pity and hatred. She
+must hate the rival who had come between her and him she loved; she must
+pity the woman who lay there, pale, wounded, and little likely to
+recover.
+
+And, with all this, a great desire to know whether this sufferer had any
+right to come and seize Edward Severne by the arm, and so draw down
+calamity on both the women who loved him.
+
+She looked and listened, and Rhoda Gale thought it hard upon her patient.
+
+But it was not in human nature the girl should do otherwise; so Rhoda
+said nothing.
+
+What fell from Ina's lips was not of a kind to make Zoe more her friend.
+
+Her mind seemed now like a bird tied by a long silken thread. It made
+large excursions, but constantly came back to her love. Sometimes that
+love was happy, sometimes unhappy. Often she said "Edward!" in the
+exquisite tone of a loving woman; and whenever she did, Zoe received it
+with a sort of shiver, as if a dagger, fine as a needle, had passed
+through her whole body.
+
+At last, after telling some tenor that he had sung F natural instead of F
+sharp, and praised somebody's rendering of a song in "Il Flauto Magico,"
+and told Ashmead to make no more engagements for her at present, for she
+was going to Vizard Court, the poor soul paused a minute, and uttered a
+deep moan.
+
+_"Struck down by the very hand that was vowed to protect me!"_ said she.
+Then was silent again. Then began to cry, and sob, and wring her hands.
+
+Zoe put her hand to her heart and moved feebly toward the door. However,
+she stopped a moment to say, "I am no use here. You would soon have me
+raving in the next bed. I will send Fanny." Then she drew herself up.
+"Miss Gale, everybody here is at your command. Pray spare nothing you can
+think of to save--_my brother's guest."_
+
+There came out the bitter drop.
+
+When she had said that, she stalked from the room like some red Indian
+bearing a mortal arrow in him, but too proud to show it.
+
+But when she got to her own room she flung herself on her sofa, and
+writhed and sobbed in agony.
+
+Fanny Dover came in and found her so, and flew to her.
+
+But she ordered her out quite wildly. "No, no; go to _her,_ like all the
+rest, and leave poor Zoe all alone. She _is_ alone."
+
+Then Fanny clung to her, and tried hard to comfort her.
+
+This young lady now became very zealous and active. She divided her time
+between the two sufferers, and was indefatigable in their service. When
+she was not supporting Zoe, she was always at Miss Gale's elbow offering
+her services. "Do let me help you," she said. "Do pray let me help. We
+are poor at home, and there is nothing I cannot do. I'm worth any three
+servants."
+
+She always helped shift the patient into a fresh bed, and that was done
+very often. She would run to the cook or the butler for anything that was
+wanted in a hurry. She flung gentility and humbug to the winds. Then she
+dressed in ten minutes, and went and dined with Vizard, and made excuses
+for Zoe's absence, to keep everything smooth; and finally she insisted on
+sitting up with Ina Klosking till three in the morning, and made Miss
+Gale go to bed in the room. "Paid nurses!" said she; "they are no use
+except to snore and drink the patient's wine. You and I will watch her
+every moment of the night; and if I'm ever at a loss what to do, I will
+call you."
+
+Miss Gale stared at her once, and then accepted this new phase of her
+character.
+
+The fever was hot while it lasted; but it was so encountered with tonics,
+and port wine, and strong beef soup (not your rubbishy beef tea), that in
+forty-eight hours it began to abate. Ina recognized Rhoda Gale as the
+lady who had saved Severne's life at Montpellier, and wept long and
+silently upon her neck. In due course, Zoe, hearing there was a great
+change, came in again to look at her. She stood and eyed her. Soon Ina
+Klosking caught sight of her, and stared at her.
+
+"You here!" said she. "Ah! you are Miss Vizard. I am in your house. I
+will get up and leave it;" and she made a feeble attempt to rise, but
+fell back, and the tears welled out of her eyes at her helplessness.
+
+Zoe was indignant, but for the moment more shocked than anything else.
+She moved away a little, and did not know what to say.
+
+"Let me look at you," said the patient. "Ah! you are beautiful. When I
+saw you at the theater, you fascinated me. How much more a man? I will
+resist no more. You are too beautiful to be resisted. Take him, and let
+me die."
+
+"I do her no good," said Zoe, half sullenly, half trembling.
+
+"Indeed you do not," said Rhoda, bluntly, and almost bitterly. She was
+all nurse.
+
+"I'll come here no more," said Zoe, sadly but sternly, and left the room.
+
+Then Ina turned to Miss Gale and said, patiently, "I hope I was not rude
+to that lady--who has broken my heart."
+
+Fanny and Rhoda took each a hand and told her she could not be rude to
+anybody.
+
+"My friends," said Ina, looking piteously to each in turn, "it is her
+house, you know, and she is very good to me now--after breaking my
+heart."
+
+Then Fanny showed a deal of tact. _"Her_ house!" said she. "It is no more
+hers than mine. Why, this house belongs to a gentleman, and he is mad
+after music. He knows you very well, though you don't know him, and he
+thinks you the first singer in Europe."
+
+"You flatter me," said Ina, sadly.
+
+"Well, he thinks so; and he is reckoned a very good judge. Ah! now I
+think of it, I will show you something, and then you will believe me."
+
+She ran off to the library, snatched up Ina's picture set round with
+pearls, and came panting in with it. "There," said she; "now you look at
+that!" and she put it before her eyes. "Now, who is that, if you please?"
+
+"Oh! It is Ina Klosking that was. Please bring me a glass."
+
+The two ladies looked at each other. Miss Gale made a negative signal,
+and Fanny said, "By-and-by. This will do instead, for it is as like as
+two peas. Now ask yourself how this comes to be in the house, and set in
+pearls. Why, they are worth three hundred pounds. I assure you that the
+master of this house is _fanatico per la musica;_ heard you sing Siebel
+at Homburg--raved about you--wanted to call on you. We had to drag him
+away from the place; and he declares you are the first singer in the
+world; and you cannot doubt his sincerity, for _here are the pearls."_
+
+Ina Klosking's pale cheek colored, and then she opened her two arms wide,
+and put them round Fanny's neck and kissed her: her innocent vanity was
+gratified, and her gracious nature suggested gratitude to her who had
+brought her the compliment, instead of the usual ungrateful bumptiousness
+praise elicits from vanity.
+
+Then Miss Gale put in her word--"When you met with this unfortunate
+accident, I was for taking you up to my house. It is three miles off; but
+he would not hear of it. He said, 'No; here she got her wound, and here
+she must be cured.'"
+
+"So," said Fanny, "pray set your mind at ease. My cousin Harrington is a
+very good soul, but rather arbitrary. If you want to leave this place,
+you must get thoroughly well and strong, for he will never let you go
+till you are."
+
+Between these two ladies, clever and cooperating, Ina smiled, and seemed
+relieved; but she was too weak to converse any more just then.
+
+Some hours afterward she beckoned Fanny to her, and said, "The master of
+the house--what is his name?"
+
+"Harrington Vizard."
+
+"What!--_her_ father?"
+
+"La, no; only her half-brother."
+
+"If he is so kind to me because I sing, why comes he not to see me? _She_
+has come."
+
+Fanny smiled. "It is plain you are not an Englishwoman, though you speak
+it so beautifully. An English gentleman does not intrude into a lady's
+room."
+
+"It is his room."
+
+"He would say that, while you occupy it, it is yours, and not his."
+
+"He awaits my invitation, then."
+
+"I dare say he would come if you were to invite him, but certainly not
+without."
+
+"I wish to see him who has been so kind to me, and so loves music; but
+not to-day--I feel unable."
+
+The next day she asked for a glass, and was distressed at her appearance.
+She begged for a cap.
+
+"What kind of a cap?" asked Fanny.
+
+"One like that," said she, pointing to a portrait on the wall. It was of
+a lady in a plain brown silk dress and a little white shawl, and a neat
+cap with a narrow lace border all round her face.
+
+This particular cap was out of date full sixty years; but the house had a
+storeroom of relics, and Fanny, with Vizard's help, soon rummaged out a
+cap of the sort, with a narrow frill all round.
+
+Her hair was smoothed, a white silk band passed over the now closed
+wound, and the cap fitted on her. She looked pale, but angelic.
+
+Fanny went down to Vizard, and invited him to come and see Mademoiselle
+Klosking--by her desire. "But," she added, "Miss Gale is very anxious
+lest you should get talking of Severne. She says the fever and loss of
+blood have weakened her terribly; and if we bring the fever on again, she
+cannot answer for her life."
+
+"Has she spoken of him to you?"
+
+"Not once."
+
+"Then why should she to me?"
+
+"Because you are a man, and she may think to get the _truth_ out of you:
+she knows _we_ shall only say what is for the best. She is very deep, and
+we don't know her mind yet."
+
+Vizard said he would be as guarded as he could; but if they saw him going
+wrong, they must send him away.
+
+"Oh, Miss Gale will do that, you may be sure," said Fanny.
+
+Thus prepared, Vizard followed Fanny up the stairs to the sick-room.
+
+Either there is such a thing as love at first sight, or it is something
+more than first sight, when an observant man gazes at a woman for an hour
+in a blaze of light, and drinks in her looks, her walk, her voice, and
+all the outward signs of a beautiful soul; for the stout cynic's heart
+beat at entering that room as it had not beat for years. To be sure, he
+had not only seen her on the stage in all her glory, but had held her,
+pale and bleeding, to his manly breast, and his heart warmed to her all
+the more, and, indeed, fairly melted with tenderness.
+
+Fanny went in and announced him. He followed softly, and looked at her.
+
+Wealth can make even a sick-room pretty. The Klosking lay on snowy
+pillows whose glossy damask was edged with lace; and upon her form was an
+eider-down quilt covered with violet-colored satin, and her face was set
+in that sweet cap which hid her wound, and made her eloquent face less
+ghastly.
+
+She turned to look at him, and he gazed at her in a way that spoke
+volumes.
+
+"A seat," said she, softly.
+
+Fanny was for putting one close to her. "No," said Miss Gale, "lower
+down; then she need not to turn her head."
+
+So he sat down nearer her feet.
+
+"My good host," said she, in her mellow voice, that retained its quality,
+but not its power, "I desire to thank you for your goodness to a poor
+singer, struck down--by the hand that was bound to protect her."
+
+Vizard faltered out that there was nothing to thank him for. He was proud
+to have her under his roof, though deeply grieved at the cause.
+
+She looked at him, and her two nurses looked at her and at each other, as
+much as to say, "She is going upon dangerous ground."
+
+They were right. But she had not the courage, or, perhaps, as most women
+are a little cat-like in this, that they go away once or twice from the
+subject nearest their heart before they turn and pounce on it, she must
+speak of other things first. Said she, "But if I was unfortunate in that,
+I was fortunate in this, that I fell into good hands. These ladies are
+sisters to me," and she gave Miss Gale her hand, and kissed the other
+hand to Fanny, though she could scarcely lift it; "and I have a host who
+loves music, and overrates my poor ability." Then, after a pause, "What
+have you heard me sing?"
+
+"Siebel."
+
+"Only Siebel! why, that is a poor little thing."
+
+"So _I_ thought, till I heard you sing it."
+
+"And, after Siebel, you bought my photograph."
+
+"Instantly."
+
+"And wasted pearls on it."
+
+"No, madam. I wasted it on pearls."
+
+"If I were well, I should call that extravagant. But it is permitted to
+flatter the sick--it is kind. Me you overrate, I fear; but you do well to
+honor music. Ay, I, who lie here wounded and broken-hearted, do thank God
+for music. Our bodies are soon crushed, our loves decay or turn to hate,
+but art is immortal."
+
+She could no longer roll this out in her grand contralto, but she could
+still raise her eyes with enthusiasm, and her pale face was illuminated.
+A grand soul shone through her, though she was pale, weak, and prostrate.
+
+They admired her in silence.
+
+After a while she resumed, and said, "If I live, I must live for my art
+alone."
+
+Miss Gale saw her approaching a dangerous topic, so she said, hastily,
+"Don't say _if_ you live, please, because that is arranged. You have been
+out of danger this twenty-four hours, provided you do not relapse; and I
+must take care of that."
+
+"My kind friend," said Ina, "I shall not relapse; only my weakness is
+pitiable. Sometimes I can scarcely forbear crying, I feel so weak. When
+shall I be stronger?"
+
+"You shall be a little stronger every three days. There are always ups
+and downs in convalescence."
+
+"When shall I be strong enough to move?"
+
+"Let me answer that question," said Vizard. "When you are strong enough
+to sing us Siebel's great song."
+
+"There," said Fanny Dover; "there is a mercenary host for you. He means
+to have a song out of you. Till then you are his prisoner."
+
+"No, no, she is mine," said Miss Gale; "and she shan't go till she has
+sung me 'Hail, Columbia.' None of your Italian trash for me."
+
+Ina smiled, and said it was a fair condition, provided that "Hail,
+Columbia," with which composition, unfortunately, she was unacquainted,
+was not beyond her powers. "I have often sung for money," said she; "but
+this time"--here she opened her grand arms and took Rhoda Gale to her
+bosom--"I shall sing for love."
+
+"Now we have settled that," said Vizard, "my mind is more at ease, and I
+will retire."
+
+"One moment," said Ina, turning to him. Then, in a low and very meaning
+voice, _"There is something else."_
+
+"No doubt there is plenty," said Miss Gale, sharply; "and, by my
+authority, I postpone it all till you are stronger. Bid us good-by for
+the present, Mr. Vizard."
+
+"I obey," said he. "But, madam, please remember I am always at your
+service. Send for me when you please, and the oftener the better for me."
+
+"Thank you, my kind host. Oblige me with your hand."
+
+He gave her his hand. She took it, and put her lips to it with pure and
+gentle and seemly gratitude, and with no loss of dignity, though the act
+was humble.
+
+He turned his head away, to hide the emotion that act and the touch of
+her sweet lips caused him; Miss Gale hurried him out of the room.
+
+"You naughty patient," said she; "you must do nothing to excite
+yourself."
+
+"Sweet physician, loving nurse, I am not excited."
+
+Miss Gale felt her heart to see.
+
+"Gratitude does not excite," said Ina. "It is too tame a feeling in the
+best of us."
+
+"That is a fact," said Miss Gale; "so let us all be grateful, and avoid
+exciting topics. Think what I should feel if you had a relapse. Why, you
+would break my heart."
+
+"Should I?"
+
+"I really think you would, tough as it is. One gets so fond of an
+unselfish patient. You cannot think how rare they are, dear. You are a
+pearl. I cannot afford to lose you."
+
+"Then you shall not," said Ina, firmly. "Know that I, who seem so weak,
+am a woman of great resolution. I will follow good counsel; I will
+postpone all dangerous topics till I am stronger; I will live. For I will
+not grieve the true friends calamity has raised me."
+
+
+Of course Fanny told Zoe all about this interview. She listened gloomily;
+and all she said was, "Sisters do not go for much when a man is in love."
+
+"Do brothers, when a woman is?" said Fanny.
+
+"I dare say they go for as much as they are worth."
+
+"Zoe, that is not fair. Harrington is full of affection for you. But you
+will not go near him. Any other man would be very angry. Do pray make an
+effort, and come down to dinner to-day."
+
+"No, no. He has you and his Klosking. And I have my broken heart. I _am_
+alone; and so will be all alone."
+
+She cried and sobbed, but she was obstinate, and Fanny could only let her
+have her own way in that.
+
+Another question was soon disposed of. When Fanny invited her into the
+sickroom, she said, haughtily, "I go there no more. Cure her, and send
+her away--if Harrington will let her go. I dare say she is to be pitied."
+
+"Of course she is. She is your fellow-victim, if you would only let
+yourself see it."
+
+"Unfortunately, instead of pitying her, I hate her. She has destroyed my
+happiness, and done herself no good. He does not love her, and never
+will."
+
+Fanny found herself getting angry, so she said no more; for she was
+determined nothing should make her quarrel with poor Zoe; but after
+dinner, being _te'te-'a-te'te_ with Vizard, she told him she was afraid
+Zoe could not see things as they were; and she asked him if he had any
+idea what had become of Severne.
+
+"Fled the country, I suppose."
+
+"Are you sure he is not lurking about?"
+
+"What for?"
+
+"To get a word with Zoe--alone."
+
+"He will not come near this. I will break every bone in his skin if he
+does."
+
+"But he is so sly; he might hang about."
+
+"What for? She never goes out; and if she did, have you so poor an
+opinion of her as to think she would speak to him?"
+
+"Oh, no! and she would forbid him to speak to her. But he would be sure
+to persist; and he has such wonderful powers of explanation, and she is
+blinded by love, I think he would make her believe black was white, if he
+had a chance; and if he is about, he will get a chance some day. She is
+doing the very worst thing she could--shutting herself up so. Any moment
+she will turn wild, and rush out reckless. She is in a dangerous state,
+you mark my words; she is broken-hearted, and yet she is bitter against
+everybody, except that young villain, and he is the only enemy she has in
+the world. I don't believe Mademoiselle Klosking ever wronged her, nor
+ever will. Appearances are against her; but she is a good woman, or I am
+a fool. Take my advice, Harrington, and be on your guard. If he had
+written a penitent letter to Mademoiselle Klosking, that would be a
+different thing; but he ignores her, and that frightens me for Zoe."
+
+Harrington would not admit that Zoe needed any other safeguard against a
+detected scoundrel than her own sense of dignity. He consented, however,
+to take precautions, if Fanny would solemnly promise not to tell Zoe, and
+so wound her. On that condition, he would see his head-keeper tomorrow,
+and all the keepers and watchers should be posted so as to encircle the
+parish with vigilance. He assured Fanny these fellows had a whole system
+of signals to the ear and eye, and Severne could not get within a mile of
+the house undetected. "But," said he, "I will not trust to that alone. I
+will send an advertisement to the local papers and the leading London
+journals, so worded that the scoundrel shall know his forgery is
+detected, and that he will be arrested on a magistrate's warrant if he
+sets foot in Barfordshire."
+
+Fanny said that was capital, and, altogether, he had set her mind at
+rest.
+
+"Then do as much for me," said Vizard. "Please explain a remarkable
+phenomenon. You were always a bright girl, and no fool; but not exactly
+what humdrum people would call a good girl. You are not offended?"
+
+"The idea! Why, I have publicly disowned goodness again and again. You
+have heard me."
+
+"So I have. But was not that rather deceitful of you? for you have turned
+out as good as gold. Anxiety has kept me at home of late, and I have
+watched you. You live for others; you are all over the house to serve two
+suffering _women._ That is real charity, not sexual charity, which
+humbugs the world, but not me. You are cook, housemaid, butler, nurse,
+and friend to both of them. In an interval of your time, so creditably
+employed, you come and cheer me up with your bright little face, and give
+me wise advice. I know that women are all humbugs; only you are a humbug
+reversed, and deserve a statue--and trimmings. You have been passing
+yourself off for a naughty girl, and all the time you were an extra good
+one."
+
+"And that puzzles the woman-hater, the cynical student, who says he has
+fathomed woman. My poor dear Harrington, if you cannot read so shallow a
+character as I am, how will you get on with those ladies upstairs--Zoe,
+who is as deep as the sea, and turbid with passion, and the Klosking, who
+is as deep as the ocean?"
+
+She thought a moment and said, "There, I will have pity on you. You shall
+understand one woman before you die, and that is me. I'll give you the
+clew to my seeming inconsistencies--if _you_ will give _me_ a cigarette."
+
+"What! another hidden virtue? You smoke?"
+
+"Not I, except when I happen to be with a noble soul who won't tell."
+
+Vizard found her a Russian cigarette, and lighted his own cigar, and she
+lectured as follows:
+
+"What women love, and can't do without, if they are young and healthy and
+spirited, is--Excitement. I am one who pines for it. Now, society is so
+constructed that to get excitement you must be naughty. Waltzing all
+night and flirting all day are excitement. Crochet, and church, and
+examining girls in St. Matthew, and dining _en famille,_ and going to bed
+at ten, are stagnation. Good girls--that means stagnant girls: I hate and
+despise the tame little wretches, and I never was one, and never will be.
+But now look here: We have two ladies in love with one villain--that is
+exciting. One gets nearly killed in the house--that is gloriously
+exciting. The other is broken-hearted. If I were to be a bad girl, and
+say, 'It is not my business; I will leave them to themselves, and go my
+little mill-round of selfishness as before,' why, what a fool I must be!
+I should lose Excitement. Instead of that, I run and get thinks for the
+Klosking--Excitement. I cook for her, and nurse her, and sit up half the
+night--Excitement. Then I run to Zoe, and do my best for her--and get
+snubbed--Excitement. Then I sit at the head of your table, and order
+you--Excitement. Oh, it is lovely!"
+
+"Shall you not be sorry when they both get well, and Routine
+recommences?"
+
+"Of course I shall. That is the sort of good girl I am. And, oh! when
+that fatal day comes, how I shall flirt. Heaven help my next flirtee! I
+shall soon flirt out the stigma of a good girl. You mark my words, I
+shall flirt with some _married man_ after this. I never did that yet. But
+I shall; I know I shall.--Ah!--there, I have burned my finger."
+
+"Never mind. That is exciting."
+
+"As such I accept it. Good-by. I must go and relieve Miss Gale. Exit the
+good girl on her mission of charity--ha! ha!" She hummed a _valse 'a deux
+temps,_ and went dancing out with such a whirl that her petticoats, which
+were ample, and not, as now, like a sack tied at the knees, made quite a
+cool air in the room.
+
+She had not been gone long when Miss Gale came down, full of her patient.
+She wanted to get her out of bed during the daytime, but said she was not
+strong enough to sit up. Would he order an invalid couch down from
+London? She described the article, and where it was to be had.
+
+He said Harris should go up in the morning and bring one down with him.
+
+He then put her several questions about her patient; and at last asked
+her, with an anxiety he in vain endeavored to conceal, what she thought
+was the relation between her and Severne.
+
+Now it may be remembered that Miss Gale had once been on the point of
+telling him all she knew, and had written him a letter. But at that time
+the Klosking was not expected to appear on the scene in person. Were she
+now to say she had seen her and Severne living together, Rhoda felt that
+she should lower her patient. She had not the heart to do that.
+
+Rhoda Gale was not of an amorous temperament, and she was all the more
+open to female attachments. With a little encouragement she would have
+loved Zoe, but she had now transferred her affection to the Klosking. She
+replied to Vizard almost like a male lover defending the object of his
+affection.
+
+"The exact relation is more than I can tell; but I think he has lived
+upon her, for she was richer than he was; and I feel sure he has promised
+her marriage. And my great fear now is lest he should get hold of her and
+keep his promise. He is as poor as a rat or a female physician; and she
+has a fortune in her voice, and has money besides, Miss Dover tells me.
+Pray keep her here till she is quite well, please."
+
+"I will."
+
+"And then let me have her up at Hillstoke. She is beginning to love me,
+and I dote on her."
+
+"So do I."
+
+"Ah, but you must not."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because."
+
+"Well, why not?"
+
+"She is not to love any man again who will not marry her. I won't let
+her. I'll kill her first, I love her so. A rogue she shan't marry, and I
+can't let you marry her, because, her connection with that Severne is
+mysterious. She seems the soul of virtue, but I could not let _you_ marry
+her until things are clearer."
+
+"Make your mind easy. I will not marry her--nor anybody else--till things
+are a great deal clearer than I have ever found them, where your sex is
+concerned."
+
+Miss Gale approved the resolution.
+
+Next day Vizard posted his keepers, and sent his advertisements to the
+London and country journals.
+
+Fanny came into his study to tell him there was more trouble--Miss
+Maitland taken seriously ill, and had written to Zoe.
+
+"Poor old soul!" said Vizard. "I have a great mind to ride over and see
+her."
+
+"Somebody ought to go," said Fanny.
+
+"Well, you go."
+
+"How can I--with Zoe, and Mademoiselle Klosking, and you, to look after?"
+
+"Instead of one old woman. Not much excitement in that."
+
+"No, cousin. To think of your remembering! Why, you must have gone to bed
+sober."
+
+"I often do."
+
+"You were always an eccentric landowner."
+
+"Don't you talk. You are a caricature."
+
+This banter was interrupted by Miss Gale, who came to tell Harrington
+Mademoiselle Klosking desired to see him, at his leisure.
+
+He said he would come directly.
+
+"Before you go," said Miss Gale, "let us come to an understanding. She
+had only two days' fever; but that fever, and the loss of blood, and the
+shock to her nerves, brought her to death's door by exhaustion. Now she
+is slowly recovering her strength, because she has a healthy stomach, and
+I give her no stimulants to spur and then weaken her, but choice and
+simple esculents, the effect of which I watch, and vary them accordingly.
+But the convalescent period is always one of danger, especially from
+chills to the body, and excitements to the brain. At no period are more
+patients thrown away for want of vigilance. Now I can guard against
+chills and other bodily things, but not against excitements--unless you
+co-operate. The fact is, we must agree to avoid speaking about Mr.
+Severne. We must be on our guard. We must parry; we must evade; we must
+be deaf, stupid, slippery; but no Severne--for five or six days more, at
+all events."
+
+Thus forewarned, Vizard, in due course, paid his second visit to Ina
+Klosking.
+
+He found her propped up with pillows this time. She begged him to be
+seated.
+
+She had evidently something on her mind, and her nurses watched her like
+cats.
+
+"You are fond of music, sir?"
+
+"Not of all music. I adore good music, I hate bad, and I despise
+mediocre. Silence is golden, indeed, compared with poor music."
+
+"You are right, sir. Have you good music in the house?"
+
+"A little. I get all the operas, and you know there are generally one or
+two good things in an opera--among the rubbish. But the great bulk of our
+collection is rather old-fashioned. It is sacred music--oratorios,
+masses, anthems, services, chants. My mother was the collector. Her
+tastes were good, but narrow. Do you care for that sort of music?"
+
+"Sacred music? Why, it is, of all music, the most divine, and soothes the
+troubled soul. Can I not see the books? I read music like words. By
+reading I almost hear."
+
+"We will bring you up a dozen books to begin on."
+
+He went down directly; and such was his pleasure in doing anything for
+the Klosking that he executed the order in person, brought up a little
+pile of folios and quartos, beautifully bound and lettered, a lady having
+been the collector.
+
+Now, as he mounted the stairs, with his very chin upon the pile, who
+should he see looking over the rails at him but his sister Zoe.
+
+She was sadly changed. There was a fixed ashen pallor on her cheek, and a
+dark circle under her eyes.
+
+He stopped to look at her. "My poor child," said he, "you look very ill."
+
+"I am very ill, dear."
+
+"Would you not be better for a change?"
+
+"I might."
+
+"Why coop yourself up in your own room? Why deny yourself a brother's
+sympathy?"
+
+The girl trembled, and tears came to her eyes.
+
+"Is it with me you sympathize?" said she.
+
+"Can you doubt it, Zoe?"
+
+Zoe hung her head a moment, and did not reply. Then she made a diversion.
+"What are those books? Oh, I see--your mother's music-books. Nothing is
+too good for _her."_
+
+"Nothing in the way of music-books is too good for her. For shame! are
+you jealous of that unfortunate lady?"
+
+Zoe made no reply.
+
+She put her hands before her face, that Vizard might not see her mind.
+
+Then he rested his books on a table, and came and took her head in his
+hands paternally. "Do not shut yourself up any longer. Solitude is
+dangerous to the afflicted. Be more with me than ever, and let this cruel
+blow bind us more closely, instead of disuniting us."
+
+He kissed her lovingly, and his kind words set her tears flowing; but
+they did her little good--they were bitter tears. Between her and her
+brother there was now a barrier sisterly love could not pass. He hated
+and despised Edward Severne; and she only distrusted him, and feared he
+was a villain. She loved him still with every fiber of her heart, and
+pined for his explanation of all that seemed so dark.
+
+So then he entered the sick-room with his music-books; and Zoe, after
+watching him in without seeming to do so, crept away to her own room.
+
+Then there was rather a pretty little scene. Miss Gale and Miss Dover, on
+each side of the bed, held a heavy music-book, and Mademoiselle Klosking
+turned the leaves and read, when the composition was worth reading. If it
+was not, she quietly passed it over, without any injurious comment.
+
+Vizard watched her from the foot of the bed, and could tell in a moment,
+by her face, whether the composition was good, bad, or indifferent. When
+bad, her face seemed to turn impassive, like marble; when good, to
+expand; and when she lighted on a masterpiece, she was almost
+transfigured, and her face shone with elevated joy.
+
+This was a study to the enamored Vizard, and it did not escape the
+quick-sighted doctress. She despised music on its own merits, but she
+despised nothing that could be pressed into the service of medicine; and
+she said to herself, "I'll cure her with esculents and music."
+
+The book was taken away to make room for another.
+
+Then said Ina Klosking, "Mr. Vizard, I desire to say a word to you.
+Excuse me, my dear friends."
+
+Miss Gale colored up. She had not foreseen a _te'te-'a-te'te_ between
+Vizard and her patient. However, there was no help for it, and she
+withdrew to a little distance with Fanny; but she said to Vizard, openly
+and expressively, "Remember!"
+
+When they had withdrawn a little way, Ina Klosking fixed her eyes on
+Vizard, and said, in a low voice, "Your sister!"
+
+Vizard started a little at the suddenness of this, but he said nothing:
+he did not know what to say.
+
+When she had waited a little, and he said nothing, she spoke again. "Tell
+me something about her. Is she good? Forgive me: it is not that I doubt."
+
+"She is good, according to her lights."
+
+"Is she proud?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Is she just?"
+
+"No. And I never met a woman that was."
+
+"Indeed it is rare. Why does she not visit me?"
+
+"I don't know"
+
+"She blames me for all that has happened."
+
+"I don't know, madam. My sister looks very ill, and keeps her own room.
+If she does not visit you, she holds equally aloof from us all. She has
+not taken a single meal with me for some days."
+
+"Since I was your patient and your guest."
+
+"Pray do not conclude from that--Who can interpret a woman?"
+
+"Another woman. Enigmas to you, we are transparent to each other. Sir,
+will you grant me a favor? Will you persuade Miss Vizard to see me here
+alone--all alone? It will be a greater trial to me than to her, for I am
+weak. In this request I am not selfish. She can do nothing for me; but I
+can do a little for her, to pay the debt of gratitude I owe this
+hospitable house. May Heaven bless it, from the roof to the foundation
+stone!"
+
+"I will speak to my sister, and she shall visit you--with the consent of
+your physician."
+
+"It is well," said Ina Klosking, and beckoned her friends, one of whom,
+Miss Gale, proceeded to feel her pulse, with suspicious glances at
+Vizard. But she found the pulse calm, and said so.
+
+Vizard took his leave and went straight to Zoe's room. She was not there.
+He was glad of that, for it gave him hopes she was going to respect his
+advice and give up her solitary life.
+
+He went downstairs and on to the lawn to look for her. He could not see
+her anywhere.
+
+At last, when he had given up looking for her, he found her in his study
+crouched in a corner.
+
+
+She rose at sight of him and stood before him. "Harrington," said she, in
+rather a commanding way, "Aunt Maitland is ill, and I wish to go to her."
+
+Harrington stared at her with surprise. "You are not well enough
+yourself."
+
+"Quite well enough in body to go anywhere."
+
+"Well, but--" said Harrington.
+
+She caught him up impatiently. "Surely you cannot object to my visiting
+Aunt Maitland. She is dangerously ill. I had a second letter this
+morning--see." And she held him out a letter.
+
+Harrington was in a difficulty. He felt sure this was not her real
+motive; but he did not like to say so harshly to an unhappy girl. He took
+a moderate course. "Not just now, dear," said he.
+
+"What! am I to wait till she dies?" cried Zoe, getting agitated at his
+opposition.
+
+"Be reasonable, dear. You know you are the mistress of this house. Do not
+desert me just now. Consider the position. It is a very chattering
+county. I entertain Mademoiselle Klosking; I could not do otherwise when
+she was nearly killed in my hall. But for my sister to go away while she
+remains here would have a bad effect."
+
+"It is too late to think of that, Harrington. The mischief is done, and
+you must plead your eccentricity. Why should I bear the blame? I never
+approved it."
+
+"You would have sent her to an inn, eh?"
+
+"No; but Miss Gale offered to take her."
+
+"Then I am to understand that you propose to mark your reprobation of my
+conduct by leaving my house."
+
+"What! publicly? Oh no. You may say to yourself that your sister could
+not bear to stay under the same roof with Mr. Severne's mistress. But
+this chattering county shall never know my mind. My aunt is dangerously
+ill. She lives but thirty miles off. She is a fit object of pity. She is
+a--respectable--lady; she is all alone; no female physician, no flirt
+turned Sister of Charity, no woman-hater, to fetch and carry for her. And
+so I shall go to her. I am your sister, not your slave. If you grudge me
+your horses, I will go on foot."
+
+Vizard was white with wrath, but governed himself like a man. "Go on,
+young lady!" said he; "go on! Jeer, and taunt, and wound the best brother
+any young madwoman ever had. But don't think I'll answer you as you
+deserve. I'm too cunning. If I was to say an unkind word to you, I should
+suffer the tortures of the damned. So go on!"
+
+"No, no. Forgive me, Harrington. It is your opposition that drives me
+wild. Oh, have pity on me! I shall go mad if I stay here. Do, pray, pray,
+pray let me go to Aunt Maitland!"
+
+"You shall go, Zoe. But I tell you plainly, this step will be a blow to
+our affection--the first."
+
+Zoe cried at that. But as she did not withdraw her request, Harrington
+told her, with cold civility, that she must be good enough to be ready
+directly after breakfast to-morrow, and take as little luggage as she
+could with convenience to herself.
+
+
+Horses were sent on that night to the "Fox," an inn half-way between
+Vizard Court and Miss Maitland's place.
+
+In the morning a light barouche, with a sling for luggage, came round,
+and Zoe was soon seated in it. Then, to her surprise, Harrington came out
+and sat beside her.
+
+She was pleased at this and said, "What! are you going with me, dear, all
+that way?"
+
+"Yes, to save appearances," said he; and took out a newspaper to read.
+
+This froze Zoe, and she retired within herself.
+
+It was a fine fresh morning; the coachman drove fast; the air fanned her
+cheek; the motion was enlivening; the horses's hoofs rang quick and clear
+upon the road. Fresh objects met the eye every moment. Her heart was as
+sad and aching as before, but there arose a faint encouraging sense that
+some day she might be better, or things might take some turn.
+
+When they had rolled about ten miles she said, in a low voice,
+"Harrington."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"You were right. Cooping one's self up is the way to go mad."
+
+"Of course it is."
+
+"I feel a little better now--a very little."
+
+"I am glad of it."
+
+But he was not hearty, and she said no more.
+
+He was extremely attentive to her all the journey, and, indeed, had never
+been half so polite to her.
+
+This, however, led to a result he did not intend nor anticipate. Zoe,
+being now cool, fell into a state of compunction and dismay. She saw his
+affection leaving her for _her,_ and stiff politeness coming instead.
+
+She leaned forward, put her hands on his knees, and looked, all scared,
+in his face. "Harrington," she cried, "I was wrong. What is Aunt Maitland
+to me? You are my all. Bid him turn the horses' heads and go home."
+
+"Why, we are only six miles from the place."
+
+"What does that matter? We shall have had a good long drive together, and
+I will dine with you after it; and I will ride or drive with you every
+day, if you will let me."
+
+Vizard could not help smiling. He was disarmed. "You impulsive young
+monkey," said he, "I shall do nothing of the kind. In the first place, I
+couldn't turn back from anything; I'm only a man. In the next place, I
+have been thinking it over, as you have; and this is a good move of ours,
+though I was a little mortified at first. Occupation is the best cure of
+love, and this old lady will find you plenty. Besides, nursing improves
+the character. Look at that frivolous girl Fanny, how she has come out.
+And you know, Zoe, if you get sick of it in a day or two, you have only
+to write to me, and I will send for you directly. A short absence, with
+so reasonable a motive as visiting a sick aunt, will provoke no comments.
+It is all for the best."
+
+This set Zoe at her ease, and brother and sister resumed their usual
+manners.
+
+They reached Miss Maitland's house, and were admitted to her sick-room.
+She was really very ill, and thanked them so pathetically for coming to
+visit a poor lone old woman that now they were both glad they had come.
+
+Zoe entered on her functions with an alacrity that surprised herself, and
+Vizard drove away. But he did not drive straight home. He had started
+from Vizard Court with other views. He had telegraphed Lord Uxmoor the
+night before, and now drove to his place, which was only five miles
+distant. He found him at home, and soon told him his errand. "Do you
+remember meeting a young fellow at my house, called Severne?"
+
+"I do," said Lord Uxmoor, dryly enough.
+
+"Well, he has turned out an impostor."
+
+Uxmoor's eye flashed. He had always suspected Severne of being his rival
+and a main cause of his defeat. "An impostor?" said he: "that is rather a
+strong word. Certainly I never heard a gentleman tell such a falsehood as
+he volunteered about--what's the fellow's name?--a detective."
+
+"Oh, Poikilus. That is nothing. That was one of his white lies. He is a
+villain all round, and a forger by way of climax."
+
+"A forger! What, a criminal?"
+
+"Rather! Here are his drafts. The drawer and acceptor do not exist. The
+whole thing was written by Edward Severne, whose indorsement figures on
+the bill. He got me to cash these bills. I deposit them with you, and I
+ask you for a warrant to commit him--if he should come this way."
+
+"Is that likely?"
+
+"Not at all; it is a hundred to one he never shows his nose again in
+Barfordshire. When he was found out, he bolted, and left his very clothes
+in my house. I packed them off to the 'Swan' at Taddington. He has never
+been heard of since; and I have warned him, by advertisement, that he
+will be arrested if ever he sets foot in Barfordshire."
+
+"Well, then?"
+
+"Well, then, I am not going to throw away a chance. The beggar had the
+impudence to spoon on my sister Zoe. That was my fault, not hers. He was
+an old college acquaintance, and I gave him opportunities--I deserve to
+be horsewhipped. However, I am not going to commit the same blunder
+twice. My sister is in your neighborhood for a few days."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"And perhaps you will be good enough to keep your eye on her."
+
+"I feel much honored by such a commission. But you have not told me where
+Miss Vizard is."
+
+"With her aunt, Miss Maitland, at Somerville Villa, near Bagley. Apropos,
+I had better tell you what she is there for, or your good dowager will be
+asking her to parties. She has come to nurse her aunt Maitland. The old
+lady is seriously ill, and all our young coquettes are going in for
+nursing. We have a sick lady at our house, I am sorry to say, and she is
+nursed like a queen by Doctress Gale and ex Flirt Fanny Dover. Now is
+fulfilled the saying that was said,
+
+'O woman! in our hours of ease--'
+
+I spare you the rest, and simply remark that our Zoe, fired by the
+example of those two ladies, has devoted herself to nursing Aunt
+Maitland. It is very good of her, but experience tells me she will very
+soon find it extremely trying; and as she is a very pretty girl, and
+therefore a fit subject of male charity, you might pay her a visit now
+and then, and show her that this best of all possible worlds contains
+young gentlemen of distinction, with long and glossy beards, as well as
+peevish old women, who are extra selfish and tyrannical when they happen
+to be sick."
+
+Uxmoor positively radiated as this programme was unfolded to him. Vizard
+observed that, and chuckled inwardly.
+
+He then handed him the forged acceptances.
+
+Lord Uxmoor begged him to write down the facts on paper, and also his
+application for the warrant. He did so. Lord Uxmoor locked the paper up,
+and the friends parted. Vizard drove off, easy in his mind, and
+congratulating himself, not unreasonably, on his little combination, by
+means of which he had provided his sister with a watch-dog, a companion,
+and an honorable lover all in one.
+
+Uxmoor put on his hat and strode forth into his own grounds, with his
+heart beating high at this strange turn of things in favor of his love.
+
+Neither foresaw the strange combinations which were to arise out of an
+event that appeared so simple and one-sided.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+INA KLOSKING'S cure was retarded by the state of her mind. The excitement
+and sharp agony her physician had feared died away as the fever of the
+brain subsided; but then there settled down a grim, listless lethargy,
+which obstructed her return to health and vigor. Once she said to Rhoda
+Gale, "But I have nothing to get well for."
+
+As a rule, she did not speak her mind, but thought a great deal. She
+often asked after Zoe; and her nurses could see that her one languid
+anxiety was somehow connected with that lady. Yet she did not seem
+hostile to her now, nor jealous. It was hard to understand her; she was
+reserved, and very deep.
+
+The first relief to the deadly languor of her mind came to her from
+Music. That was no great wonder; but, strange to say, the music that did
+her good was neither old enough to be revered, nor new enough to be
+fashionable. It was English music too, and _passe'_ music. She came
+across a collection of Anglican anthems and services--written, most of
+it, toward the end of the last century and the beginning of this. The
+composers' names promised little: they were Blow, Nares, Green, Kent,
+King, Jackson, etc. The words and the music of these compositions seemed
+to suit one another; and, as they were all quite new to her, she went
+through them almost eagerly, and hummed several of the strains, and with
+her white but now thin hand beat time to others. She even sent for
+Vizard, and said to him, "You have a treasure here. Do you know these
+compositions?"
+
+He inspected his treasure. "I remember," said he, "my mother used to sing
+this one, 'When the Eye saw Her, then it blessed Her;' and parts of this
+one, 'Hear my Prayer;' and, let me see, she used to sing this psalm,
+'Praise the Lord,' by Jackson. I am ashamed to say I used to ask for
+'Praise the Lord Jackson,' meaning to be funny, not devout."
+
+"She did not choose ill," said Ina. "I thought I knew English music, yet
+here is a whole stream of it new to me. Is it esteemed?"
+
+"I think it was once, but it has had its day."
+
+"That is strange; for here are some immortal qualities. These composers
+had brains, and began at the right end; they selected grand and tuneful
+words, great and pious thoughts; they impregnated themselves with those
+words and produced appropriate music. The harmonies are sometimes thin,
+and the writers seem scarcely to know the skillful use of discords; but
+they had heart and invention; they saw their way clear before they wrote
+the first note; there is an inspired simplicity and fervor: if all these
+choice things are dead, they must have fallen upon bad interpreters."
+
+"No doubt," said Vizard; "so please get well, and let me hear these pious
+strains, which my poor dear mother loved so well, interpreted worthily."
+
+The Klosking's eyes filled. "That is a temptation," said she, simply.
+Then she turned to Rhoda Gale. "Sweet physician, he has done me good. He
+has given me something to get well for."
+
+Vizard's heart yearned. "Do not talk like that," said he, buoyantly;
+then, in a broken voice, "Heaven forbid you should have nothing better to
+live for than that."
+
+"Sir," said she, gravely, "I have nothing better to live for now than to
+interpret good music worthily."
+
+There was a painful silence.
+
+Ina broke it. She said, quite calmly, "First of all, I wish to know how
+others interpret these strains your mother loved, and I have the honor to
+agree with her."
+
+"Oh," said Vizard, "we will soon manage that for you. These things are
+not defunct, only unfashionable. Every choir in England has sung them,
+and can sing them, after a fashion; so, at twelve o'clock to-morrow, look
+out--for squalls!"
+
+He mounted his horse, rode into the cathedral town--distant eight
+miles--and arranged with the organist for himself, four leading boys, and
+three lay clerks. He was to send a carriage in for them after the morning
+service, and return them in good time for vespers.
+
+Fanny told Ina Klosking, and she insisted on getting up.
+
+By this time Doctress Gale had satisfied herself that a little excitement
+was downright good for her patient, and led to refreshing sleep. So they
+dressed her loosely but very warmly, and rolled her to the window on her
+invalid couch, set at a high angle. It was a fine clear day in October,
+keen but genial; and after muffling her well, they opened the window.
+
+While she sat there, propped high, and inhaling the pure air, Vizard
+conveyed his little choir, by another staircase, into the antechamber;
+and, under his advice, they avoided preludes and opened in full chorus
+with Jackson's song of praise.
+
+At the first burst of sacred harmony, Ina Klosking was observed to quiver
+all over.
+
+They sung it rather coarsely, but correctly and boldly, and with a
+certain fervor. There were no operatic artifices to remind her of earth;
+the purity and the harmony struck her full. The great singer and sufferer
+lifted her clasped hands to God, and the tears flowed fast down her
+cheeks.
+
+These tears were balm to that poor lacerated soul, tormented by many
+blows.
+
+"O lacrymarum fons, tenero sacros Ducemtium ortus ex animo, quater Felix,
+in imo qui scatentem Pectore, te, pia nympha, sensit."
+
+Rhoda Gale, who hated music like poison, crept up to her, and, infolding
+her delicately, laid a pair of wet eyes softly on her shoulder.
+
+Vizard now tapped at the door, and was admitted from the music-room. He
+begged Ina to choose another composition from her book. She marked a
+service and two anthems, and handed him the volume, but begged they might
+not be done too soon, one after the other. That would be quite enough for
+one day, especially if they would be good enough to repeat the hymn of
+praise to conclude; "for," said she, "these are things to be digested."
+
+Soon the boys' pure voices rose again and those poor dead English
+composers, with prosaic names, found their way again to the great foreign
+singer's soul.
+
+They sung an anthem, which is now especially despised by those great
+critics, the organists of the country--"My Song shall be of Mercy and
+Judgment."
+
+The Klosking forgave the thinness of the harmony, and many little faults
+in the vocal execution. The words, no doubt, went far with her, being
+clearly spoken. She sat meditating, with her moist eyes raised, and her
+face transfigured, and at the end she murmured to Vizard, with her eyes
+still raised, "After all, they are great and pious words, and the music
+has at least this crowning virtue--it means the words." Then she suddenly
+turned upon him and said, "There is another person in this house who
+needs this consolation as much as I do. Why does she not come? But
+perhaps she is with the musicians."
+
+"Whom do you mean?"
+
+"Your sister."
+
+"Why, she is not in the house."
+
+Ina Klosking started at that information, and bent her eyes keenly and
+inquiringly on him.
+
+"She left two days ago."
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+"To nurse a sick aunt."
+
+"Indeed! Had she no other reason?"
+
+"Not that I know of," said Vizard; but he could not help coloring a
+little.
+
+The little choir now sung a service, King in F. They sung "The
+Magnificat" rudely, and rather profanely, but recovered themselves in the
+"Dimittis."
+
+When it was over, Ina whispered, "'To be a light to lighten the
+Gentiles.' That is an inspired duet. Oh, how it might be sung!"
+
+"Of course it might," whispered Vizard; "so you have something to get
+well for."
+
+"Yes, my friend--thanks to you and your sainted mother."
+
+This, uttered in a voice which, under the healing influence of music,
+seemed to have regained some of its rich melody, was too much for our
+cynic, and he bustled off to hide his emotion, and invited the musicians
+to lunch.
+
+All the servants had been listening on the stairs, and the hospitable old
+butler plied the boys with sparkling Moselle, which, being himself reared
+on mighty Port; he thought a light and playful wine--just the thing for
+women and children. So after luncheon they sung rather wild, and the
+Klosking told Vizard, dryly, that would do for the present.
+
+Then he ordered the carriage for them, and asked Mademoiselle Klosking
+when she would like them again.
+
+"When _can_ I?" she inquired, rather timidly.
+
+"Every day, if you like--Sundays and all."
+
+"I must be content with every other day."
+
+Vizard said he would arrange it so, and was leaving her; but she begged
+him to stay a moment.
+
+"She would be safer here," said she, very gravely.
+
+Vizard was taken aback by the suddenness of this return to a topic he was
+simple enough to think she had abandoned. However, he said, "She is safe
+enough. I have taken care of that, you may be sure."
+
+"You have done well, sir," said Ina, very gravely.
+
+She said no more to him; but just before dinner Fanny came in, and Miss
+Gale went for a walk in the garden. Ina pinned Fanny directly. "Where is
+Miss Vizard?" said she, quietly.
+
+Fanny colored up; but seeing in a moment that fibs would be dangerous,
+said, mighty carelessly, "She is at Aunt Maitland's."
+
+"Where does _she_ live, dear?"
+
+"In a poky little place called 'Somerville Villa.'"
+
+"Far from this?"
+
+"Not very. It is forty miles by the railway, but not thirty by the road;
+and Zoe went in the barouche all the way."
+
+Mademoiselle Klosking thought a little, and then taking Fanny Dover's
+hand, said to her, very sweetly, "I beg you to honor me with your
+confidence, and tell me something. Believe me, it is for no selfish
+motive I ask you; but I think Miss Vizard is in danger. She is too far
+from her brother, and too far from me. Mr. Vizard says she is safe. Now,
+can you tell me what he means? How can she be safe? Is her heart turned
+to stone, like mine?"
+
+"No, indeed," said Fanny. "Yes, I will be frank with you; for I believe
+you are wiser than any one of us. Zoe is not safe, left to herself. Her
+heart is anything but stone; and Heaven knows what wild, mad thing she
+might be led into. But I know perfectly well what Vizard means: no, I
+don't like to tell it you all; it will give you pain."
+
+"There is little hope of that. I am past pain."
+
+"Well, then--Miss Gale will scold me."
+
+"No, she shall not."
+
+"Oh, I know you have got the upper hand even of her; so if you promise I
+shall not be scolded, I'll tell you. You see, I had my misgivings about
+this very thing; and as soon as Vizard came home--it was he who took her
+to Aunt Maitland--I asked him what precautions he had taken to hinder
+that man from getting hold of her again. Well, then--oh, I ought to have
+begun by telling you Mr. Severne forged bills to get money out of
+Harrington."
+
+"Good Heavens!"
+
+"Oh, Harrington will never punish him, if he keeps his distance; but he
+has advertised in all the papers, warning him that if he sets foot in
+Barfordshire he will be arrested and sent to prison."
+
+Ina Klosking shook her head. "When a man is in love with such a woman as
+that, dangers could hardly deter him."
+
+"That depends upon the man, I think. But Harrington has done better than
+that. He has provided her with a watch-dog--the best of all
+watch-dogs--another lover. Lord Uxmoor lives near Aunt Maitland, and he
+adores Zoe; so Harrington has commissioned him to watch her, and cure
+her, and all. I wish he'd cure _me_--an earl's coronet and twenty
+thousand a year!"
+
+"You relieve my mind," said Ina. Then after a pause--"But let me ask you
+one question more. Why did you not tell me Miss Vizard was gone?"
+
+"I don't know," said Fanny, coloring up. _"She_ told me not."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Why, the Vixen in command. She orders everybody."
+
+"And why did she forbid you?"
+
+"Don't know."
+
+"Yes, you do. Kiss me, dear. There, I will distress you with no more
+questions. Why should I? Our instincts seldom deceive us. Well, so be it:
+I have something more to get well for, and I will."
+
+Fanny looked up at her inquiringly.
+
+"Yes," said she; "the daughter of this hospitable house will never return
+to it while I am in it. Poor girl; she thinks _she_ is the injured woman.
+So be it. I will get well--and leave it."
+
+
+Fanny communicated this to Miss Gale, and all she said was, "She shall go
+no further than Hillstoke then; for I love her better than any man can
+love her."
+
+Fanny did not tell Vizard; and he was downright happy, seeing the woman
+he loved recover, by slow degrees, her health, her strength, her color,
+her voice. Parting was not threatened. He did not realize that they
+should ever part at all. He had vague hopes that, while she was under his
+roof, opportunity might stand his friend, and she might requite his
+affection. All this would not bear looking into very closely: for that
+very reason he took particular care not to look into it very closely; but
+hoped all things, and was happy. In this condition he received a little
+shock.
+
+A one-horse fly was driven up to the door, and a card brought in--
+
+"MR. JOSEPH ASHMEAD."
+
+Vizard was always at home at Vizard Court, except to convicted Bores. Mr.
+Ashmead was shown into his study.
+
+Vizard knew him at a glance. The velveteen coat had yielded to tweed; but
+another loud tie had succeeded to the one "that fired the air at
+Homburg." There, too, was the wash-leather face, and other traits Vizard
+professed to know an actress's lover by. Yes, it was the very man at
+sight of whom he had fought down his admiration of La Klosking, and
+declined an introduction to her. Vizard knew the lady better now. But
+still he was a little jealous even of her acquaintances, and thought this
+one unworthy of her; so he received him with stiff but guarded
+politeness, leaving him to open his business.
+
+Ashmead, overawed by the avenue, the dozen gables, four-score chimneys,
+etc., addressed him rather obsequiously, but with a certain honest
+trouble, that soon softened the bad impression caused by his appearance.
+
+"Sir," said he, "pray excuse this intrusion of a stranger, but I am in
+great anxiety. It is not for myself, but for a lady, a very distinguished
+lady, whose interests I am charged with. It is Mademoiselle Klosking, the
+famous singer."
+
+Vizard maintained a grim silence.
+
+"You may have heard of her."
+
+"I have."
+
+"I almost fancy you once heard her sing--at Homburg."
+
+"I did."
+
+"Then I am sure you must have admired her, being a gentleman of taste.
+Well, sir, it is near a fortnight since I heard from her."
+
+"Well, sir?"
+
+"You will say what is that to you? But the truth is, she left me, in
+London, to do certain business for her, and she went down to this very
+place. I offered to come with her, but she declined. To be sure, it was a
+delicate matter, and not at all in my way. She was to write to me and
+report progress, and give me her address, that I might write to her; but
+nearly a fortnight has passed. I have not received a single letter. I am
+in real distress and anxiety. A great career awaits her in England, sir;
+but this silence is so mysterious, so alarming, that I begin actually to
+hope she has played the fool, and thrown it all up, and gone abroad with
+that blackguard."
+
+"What blackguard, sir?"
+
+Joseph drew in his horns. "I spoke too quick, sir," said he; "it is no
+business of mine. But these brilliant women are as mad as the rest in
+throwing away their affections. They prefer a blackguard to a good man.
+It is the rule. Excuse my plain speaking."
+
+"Mr. Ashmead," said Vizard, "I may be able to answer your questions about
+this lady; but, before I do so, it is right I should know how far you
+possess her confidence. To speak plainly, have you any objection to tell
+me what is the precise relation between you and her?"
+
+"Certainly not, sir. I am her theatrical agent."
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"Not quite. I have been a good deal about her lately, and have seen her
+in deep distress. I think I may almost say I am her friend, though a very
+humble one."
+
+Vizard did not yet quite realize the truth that this Bohemian had in his
+heart one holy spot--his pure devotion and unsexual friendship for that
+great artist. Still, his prejudices were disarmed, and he said, "Well,
+Mr. Ashmead, excuse my cross-questioning you. I will now give myself the
+pleasure of setting your anxieties at rest. Mademoiselle Klosking is in
+this house."
+
+Ashmead stared at him, and then broke out, "In this house! O Lord! How
+can that be?"
+
+"It happened in a way very distressing to us all, though the result is
+now so delightful. Mademoiselle Klosking called here on a business with
+which, perhaps, you are acquainted."
+
+"I am, sir."
+
+"Unfortunately she met with an accident in my very hall, an accident that
+endangered her life, sir; and of course we took charge of her. She has
+had a zealous physician and good nurses, and she is recovering slowly.
+She is quite out of danger, but still weak. I have no doubt she will be
+delighted to see you. Only, as we are all under the orders of her
+physician, and that physician is a woman, and a bit of a vixen, you must
+allow me to go and consult her first." Vizard retired, leaving Joseph
+happy, but mystified.
+
+He was not long alone. In less than a minute he had for companions some
+well-buttered sandwiches made with smoked ham, and a bottle of old
+Madeira. The solids melted in his mouth, the liquid ran through his veins
+like oil charged with electricity and _elixir vitoe._
+
+By-and-by a female servant came for him, and ushered him into Ina
+Klosking's room.
+
+She received him with undisguised affection, and he had much ado to keep
+from crying. She made him sit down near her in the vast embrasure of the
+window, and gave him a letter to read she had just written to him.
+
+They compared notes very rapidly; but their discourse will not be given
+here, because so much of it would be repetition.
+
+They were left alone to talk, and they did talk for more than an hour.
+The first interruption, indeed, was a recitativo with chords, followed by
+a verse from the leading treble.
+
+Mr. Ashmead looked puzzled; the Klosking eyed him demurely.
+
+Before the anthem concluded, Vizard tapped, and was admitted from the
+music-room. Ina smiled, and waved him to a chair. Both the men saw, by
+her manner, they were not to utter a sound while the music was going on.
+When it ceased, she said, "Do you approve that, my friend?"
+
+"If it pleases you, madam," replied the wary Ashmead.
+
+"It does more than please me; it does me good."
+
+"That reconciles me to it at once."
+
+"Oh, then you do not admire it for itself."
+
+"Not--very--much."
+
+"Pray, speak plainly. I am not a tyrant, to impose my tastes."
+
+"Well then, madam, I feel very grateful to anything that does you good:
+otherwise, I should say the music was--rather dreary; and the
+singing--very insipid."
+
+The open struggle between Joseph's honesty and his awe of the Klosking
+tickled Vizard so that he leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily.
+
+The Klosking smiled superior. "He means," said she, "that the music is
+not operatic, and the boys do not clasp their hands, and shake their
+shoulders, and sing passionately, as women do in a theater. Heaven forbid
+they should! If this world is all passion, there is another which is all
+peace; and these boys' sweet, artless tones are the nearest thing we
+shall get in this world to the unimpassioned voices of the angels. They
+are fit instruments for pious words set by composers, who, however
+obscure they may be, were men inspired, and have written immortal
+strains, which, as I hear them, seem hardly of this world--they are so
+free from all mortal dross."
+
+Vizard assented warmly. Ashmead asked permission to hear another. They
+sung the "Magnificat" by King, in F.
+
+"Upon my word," said Ashmead, "there is a deal of 'go' in that."
+
+Then they sung the "Nuno Dimittis." He said, a little dryly, there was
+plenty of repose in that.
+
+"My friend," said she, "there is--to the honor of the composer: the
+'Magnificat' is the bright and lofty exultation of a young woman who has
+borne the Messiah, and does not foresee His sufferings, only the boon to
+the world and the glory to herself. But the 'Dimittis' is the very
+opposite. It is a gentle joy, and the world contentedly resigned by a
+good old man, fatigued, who has run his race, and longs to sleep after
+life's fever. When next you have the good fortune to hear that song,
+think you see the sun descending red and calm after a day of storms, and
+an aged Christian saying, 'Good-night,' and you will honor poor dead King
+as I do. The music that truly reflects great words was never yet small
+music, write it who may."
+
+"You are right, madam." said Ashmead. "When I doubted its being good
+music, I suppose I meant salable."
+
+"Ah, _voil'a!"_ said the Klosking. Then, turning to Vizard for sympathy,
+"What this faithful friend understands by good music is music that can be
+sold for a good deal of money."
+
+"That is so," said Ashmead, stoutly. "I am a theatrical agent. You can't
+make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. You have tried it more than once,
+you know, but it would not work."
+
+Ashmead amused Vizard, and he took him into his study, and had some more
+conversation with him. He even asked him to stay in the house; but
+Ashmead was shy, and there was a theater at Taddington. So he said he had
+a good deal of business to do; he had better make the "Swan" his
+headquarters. "I shall be at your service all the same, sir, or
+Mademoiselle Klosking's."
+
+"Have a glass of Madeira, Mr. Ashmead."
+
+"Well, sir, to tell the truth, I have had one or two."
+
+"Then it knows the road."
+
+"You are very good, sir. What Madeira! Is this the wine the doctors ran
+down a few years ago? They couldn't have tasted it."
+
+"Well, it is like ourselves, improved by traveling. That has been twice
+to India."
+
+"It will never go again past me," said Ashmead, gayly. "My mouth is a
+cape it will never weather."
+
+He went to his inn.
+
+Before he had been there ten minutes, up rattled a smart servant in a
+smart dogcart.
+
+"Hamper--for Joseph Ashmead, Esquire."
+
+"Anything to pay?"
+
+"What for?--it's from Vizard Court."
+
+And the dog-cart rattled away.
+
+Joseph was in the hall, and witnessed this phenomenon. He said to
+himself, "I wish I had a vast acquaintance--ALL COUNTRY GENTLEMEN."
+
+
+That afternoon Ina Klosking insisted on walking up and down the room,
+supported by Mesdemoiselles Gale and Dover. The result was fatigue and
+sleep; that is all.
+
+"To-morrow," said she, "I will have but one live crutch. I must and will
+recover my strength."
+
+In the evening she insisted on both ladies dining with Mr. Vizard. Here,
+too, she had her way.
+
+Vizard was in very good spirits, and, when the servants were gone,
+complimented Miss Gale on her skill.
+
+_"Our_ skill, you mean," said she. "It was you who prescribed this new
+medicine of the mind, the psalms and hymns and spiritual songs; and it
+was you who administered the Ashmead, and he made her laugh, or
+nearly--and that _we_ have never been able to do. She must take a few
+grains of Ashmead every day. The worst of it is, I am afraid we shall
+cure her too quickly; and then we shall lose her. But that was to be
+expected. I am very unfortunate in my attachments; I always was. If I
+fall in love with a woman, she is sure to hate me, or else die, or else
+fly away. I love this one to distraction, so she is sure to desert me,
+because she couldn't misbehave, and I won't _let_ her die."
+
+"Well," said Vizard, "you know what to do--retard the cure. That is one
+of the arts of your profession."
+
+"And so it is; but how can I, when I love her? No, we must have recourse
+to our benevolent tyrant again. He must get Miss Vizard back here, before
+my goddess is well enough to spread her wings and fly."
+
+Vizard looked puzzled. "This," said he "sounds like a riddle, or female
+logic."
+
+"It is both," said Rhoda. "Miss Dover, give him the _mot d'e'nigme._ I'm
+off--to the patient I adore."
+
+She vanished swiftly, and Vizard looked to Fanny for a solution. But
+Fanny seemed rather vexed with Miss Gale, and said nothing. Then he
+pressed her to explain.
+
+She answered him, with a certain reluctance, "Mademoiselle Klosking has
+taken into her head that Zoe will never return to this house while she is
+in it."
+
+"Who put that into her head, now?" said Vizard, bitterly.
+
+"Nobody, upon my honor. A woman's instinct."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"She is horrified at the idea of keeping your sister out of her own
+house, so she is getting well to go; and the strength of her will is such
+that she _will_ get well."
+
+"All the better; but Zoe will soon get tired of Somerville Villa. A
+little persuasion will bring her home, especially if you were to offer to
+take her place."
+
+"Oh, I would do that, to oblige you, Harrington, if I saw any good at the
+end of it. But please think twice. How can Zoe and that lady ever stay
+under the same roof? How can they meet at your table, and speak to each
+other? They are rivals."
+
+"They are both getting cured, and neither will ever see the villain
+again."
+
+"I hope not; but who can tell? Well, never mind _them._ If their eyes are
+not opened by this time, they will get no pity from me. It is you I think
+of now." Then, in a hesitating way, and her cheeks mantling higher and
+higher with honest blushes--"You have suffered enough already from women.
+I know it is not my business, but it does grieve me to see you going into
+trouble again. What good can come of it? Her connection with that man, so
+recent, and so--strange. The world _will_ interpret its own way. Your
+position in the county--every eye upon you. I see the way in--no doubt it
+is strewed with flowers; but I see no way out. Be brave in time,
+Harrington. It will not be the first time. She must be a good woman,
+somehow, or faces, eyes and voices, and ways, are all a lie. But if she
+is good, she is very unfortunate; and she will give you a sore heart for
+life, if you don't mind. I'd clinch my teeth and shut my eyes, and let
+her go in time."
+
+Vizard groaned aloud, and at that a tear or two rolled down Fanny's
+burning cheeks.
+
+"You are a good little girl," said Vizard, affectionately; "but I
+_cannot."_
+
+He hung his head despondently and muttered, "I see no way out either. But
+I yield to fate. I feared her, and fled from her. She has followed me. I
+can resist no more. I drift. Some men never know happiness. I shall have
+had a happy fortnight, at all events. I thank you, and respect you for
+your advice; but I can't take it. So now I suppose you will be too much
+offended to oblige me."
+
+"Oh dear, no."
+
+"Would you mind writing to Aunt Maitland, and saying you would like to
+take Zoe's place?"
+
+"I will do it with pleasure to oblige you. Besides, it will be a fib, and
+it is so long since I have told a good fib. When shall I write?"
+
+"Oh, about the end of the week."
+
+"Yes, that will be time enough. Miss Gale won't _let_ her go till next
+week. Ah, after all, how nice and natural it is to be naughty! Fibs and
+flirtation, welcome home! This is the beauty of being good--and I shall
+recommend it to all my friends on this very account--you can always leave
+it off at a moment's notice, without any trouble. Now, naughtiness sticks
+to you like a burr."
+
+So, with no more ado, this new Mentor became Vizard's accomplice, and
+they agreed to get Zoe back before the Klosking could get strong enough
+to move with her physician's consent.
+
+
+As the hamper of Madeira was landed in the hall of the "Swan" inn, a
+genial voice cried, "You are in luck." Ashmead turned, and there was
+Poikilus peering at him from the doorway of the commercial room.
+
+"What is the game now?" thought Ashmead. But what he said was, "Why, I
+know that face. I declare, it is the gent that treated me at Homburg.
+Bring in the hamper, Dick." Then to Poikilus, "Have ye dined yet?"
+
+"No. Going to dine in half an hour. Roast gosling. Just enough for two."
+
+"We'll divide it, if you like, and I'll stand a bottle of old Madeira. My
+old friend, Squire Vizard, has just sent it me. I'll just have a splash;
+dinner will be ready by then." He bustled out of the room, but said, as
+he went, "I say, old man, open the hamper, and put two bottles just
+within the smile of the fire."
+
+He then went upstairs, and plunged his head in cold water, to clear his
+faculties for the encounter.
+
+The friends sat down to dinner, and afterward to the Madeira, both gay
+and genial outside, but within full of design--their object being to pump
+one another.
+
+In the encounter at Homburg, Ashmead had an advantage; Poikilus thought
+himself unknown to Ashmead. But this time there was a change. Poikilus
+knew by this time that La Klosking had gone to Vizard Court. How she had
+known Severne was there puzzled him a good deal; but he had ended by
+suspecting Ashmead, in a vague way.
+
+The parties, therefore, met on even terms. Ashmead resolved to learn what
+he could about Severne, and Poikilus to learn what he could about Zoe
+Vizard and Mademoiselle Klosking.
+
+Ashmead opened the ball: "Been long here?"
+
+"Just come."
+
+"Business?"
+
+"Yes. Want to see if there's any chance of my getting paid for that job."
+
+"What job?"
+
+"Why, the Homburg job. Look here--I don't know why I should have any
+secrets from a good fellow like you; only you must not tell anybody
+else."
+
+"Oh, honor bright!"
+
+"Well, then, I am a detective."
+
+"Ye don't mean that?"
+
+"I'm Poikilus."
+
+"Good heavens! Well, I don't care. I haven't murdered anybody. Here's
+your health, Poikilus. I say, you could tell a tale or two."
+
+"That I could. But I'm out of luck this time. The gentleman that employed
+me has mizzled, and he promised me fifty pounds. I came down here in
+hopes of finding him. Saw him once in this neighborhood."
+
+"Well, you won't find him here, I don't think. You must excuse me, but
+your employer is a villain. He has knocked a lady down, and nearly killed
+her."
+
+"You don't say that?"
+
+"Yes; that beautiful lady, the singer, you saw in Homburg."
+
+"What! the lady that said he should have his money?"
+
+"The same."
+
+"Why, he must be mad."
+
+"No. A scoundrel. _That is all."_
+
+"Then she won't give him his money after that."
+
+"Not if I can help it. But if she likes to pay you your commission, I
+shall not object to that."
+
+"You are a good fellow."
+
+"What is more, I shall see her to-morrow, and I will put the question to
+her for you."
+
+Poikilus was profuse in his thanks, and said he began to think it was his
+only chance. Then he had a misgiving. "I have no claim on the lady," said
+he; "and I am afraid I have been a bad friend to her. I did not mean it,
+though, and the whole affair is dark to me."
+
+"You are not very sharp, then, for a detective," said Ashmead. "Well,
+shut your mouth and open your eyes. Your Mr. Severne was the lady's
+lover, and preyed upon her. He left her; she was fool enough to love him
+still, and pined for him. He is a gambler, and was gambling by my side
+when Mademoiselle Klosking came in; so he cut his lucky, and left me
+fifty pounds to play for him, and she put the pot on, and broke the bank.
+I didn't know who he was, but we found it out by his photograph. Then you
+came smelling after the money, and we sold you nicely, my fine detective.
+We made it our business to know where you wrote to--Vizard Court. She
+went down there, and found him just going to be married to a beautiful
+young lady. She collared him. He flung her down, and cut her temple
+open--nearly killed her. She lies ill in the house, and the other young
+lady is gone away broken-hearted."
+
+"Where to?"
+
+"How should I know? What is that to you?"
+
+"Why don't you see? Wherever she is, he won't be far off. He likes her
+best, don't he?"
+
+"It don't follow that she likes him, now she has found him out. He had
+better not go after her, or he'll get a skinful of broken bones. My
+friend, Squire Vizard, is the man to make short work with him, if he
+caught the blackguard spooning after his sister."
+
+"And serve him right. Still, I wish I knew where that young lady is."
+
+"I dare say I could learn if I made it my business."
+
+Having brought the matter to that point, Poikilus left it, and simply
+made himself agreeable. He told Ashmead his experiences; and as they
+were, many of them, strange and dramatic, he kept him a delighted
+listener till midnight.
+
+The next day Ashmead visited Mademoiselle Klosking, and found her walking
+up and down the room, with her hand on Miss Gale's shoulder.
+
+She withdrew into the embrasure, and had some confidential talk with him.
+As a matter of course, he told her about Poikilus, and that he was
+hunting down Severne for his money.
+
+"Indeed!" said the Klosking. "Please tell me every word that passed
+between you."
+
+He did so, as nearly as he could remember.
+
+Mademoiselle Klosking leaned her brow upon her hand a considerable time
+in thought. Then she turned on Ashmead, and said, quietly, "That Poikilus
+is still acting for _him,_ and the one thing they desire to learn is
+where to find Miss Vizard, and delude her to her ruin."
+
+"No, no," cried Ashmead violently; but the next moment his countenance
+fell. "You are wiser than I am," said he; "it may be. Confound the sneak!
+I'll give it him next time I see him! Why, he must love villainy for its
+own sake. I as good as said you would pay him his fifty pounds."
+
+"What fifty pounds? His fifty pounds is a falsehood, like himself. Now,
+my friend, please take my instructions, my positive instructions."
+
+"Yes, madam."
+
+"You will not change your friendly manner: show no suspicion nor anger.
+If they are cunning, we must be wise; and the wise always keep their
+temper. You will say Miss Vizard has gone to Ireland, but to what part is
+only known to her brother. Tell him this, and be very free and
+communicative on all other subjects; for this alone has any importance
+now. As for me, I can easily learn where Somerville Villa is, and in a
+day or two shall send you to look after her. One thing is clear--I had
+better lose no time in recovering my strength. Well, my will is strong. I
+will lose no time--your arm, monsieur;" and she resumed her promenade.
+
+Ashmead, instructed as above, dined again with the detective; but out of
+revenge gave him but one bottle of Madeira. As they sipped it, he
+delivered a great many words; and in the middle of them said, "Oh,
+by-the-by, I asked after that poor young lady. Gone to Ireland, but they
+didn't know what part."
+
+After dinner Ashmead went to the theater. When he came back Poikilus was
+gone.
+
+So did Wisdom baffle Cunning that time.
+
+But Cunning did not really leave the field: that very evening an aged
+man, in green spectacles, was inquiring about the postal arrangements to
+Vizard Court; and next day he might have been seen, in a back street of
+Taddington, talking to the village postman, and afterward drinking with
+him. It was Poikilus groping his way.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+A FEW words avail to describe the sluggish waters of the Dead Sea, but
+what pen can portray the Indian Ocean lashed and tormented by a cyclone?
+
+Even so a few words have sufficed to show that Ina Klosking's heart was
+all benumbed and deadened; and, with the help of insult, treachery, loss
+of blood, brain-fever, and self-esteem rebelling against villainy, had
+outlived its power of suffering poignant torture.
+
+But I cannot sketch in a few words, nor paint in many, the tempest of
+passion in Zoe Vizard. Yet it is my duty to try and give the reader some
+little insight into the agony, the changes, the fury, the grief, the
+tempest of passion, in a virgin heart; in such a nature, the great
+passions of the mind often rage as fiercely, or even more so, than in
+older and experienced women.
+
+Literally, Zoe Vizard loved Edward Severne one minute and hated him the
+next; gave him up for a traitor, and then vowed to believe nothing until
+she had heard his explanation; burned with ire at his silence, sickened
+with dismay at his silence. Then, for a while, love and faith would get
+the upper hand, and she would be quite calm. Why should she torment
+herself? An old sweetheart, abandoned long ago, had come between them; he
+had, unfortunately, done the woman an injury, in his wild endeavor to get
+away from her. Well, what business had she to use force? No doubt he was
+ashamed, afflicted at what he had done, being a man; or was in despair,
+seeing that lady installed in her brother's house, and _her_ story,
+probably a parcel of falsehoods, listened to.
+
+Then she would have a gleam of joy; for she knew he had not written to
+Ina Klosking. But soon Despondency came down like a dark cloud; for she
+said to herself, "He has left us both. He sees the woman he does not love
+will not let him have the one he does love; and so he has lost heart, and
+will have no more to say to either."
+
+When her thoughts took this turn she would cry piteously; but not for
+long. She would dry her eyes, and burn with wrath all round; she would
+still hate her rival, but call her lover a coward--a contemptible coward.
+
+After her day of raging, and grieving, and doubting, and fearing, and
+hoping, and despairing, night overtook her with an exhausted body, a
+bleeding heart, and weeping eyes. She had been so happy--on the very
+brink of paradise; and now she was deserted. Her pillow was wet every
+night. She cried in her very sleep; and when she woke in the morning her
+body was always quivering; and in the very act of waking came a horror,
+and an instinctive reluctance to face the light that was to bring another
+day of misery.
+
+Such is a fair, though loose, description of her condition.
+
+The slight fillip given to her spirits by the journey did her a morsel of
+good, but it died away. Having to nurse Aunt Maitland did her a little
+good at first. But she soon relapsed into herself, and became so
+_distraite_ that Aunt Maitland, who was all self, being an invalid, began
+to speak sharply to her.
+
+On the second day of her visit to Somerville Villa, as she sat brooding
+at the foot of her aunt's bed, suddenly she heard horses' feet, and then
+a ring at the hall-door. Her heart leaped. Perhaps he had come to explain
+all. He might not choose to go to Vizard Court. What if he had been
+watching as anxiously as herself, and had seized the first opportunity!
+In a moment her pale cheek rivaled carmine.
+
+The girl brought up a card--
+
+"LORD UXMOOR."
+
+The color died away directly. "Say I am very sorry, but at this moment I
+cannot leave my aunt."
+
+The girl stared with amazement, and took down the message.
+
+Uxmoor rode away.
+
+Zoe felt a moment's pleasure. No, if she could not see the right man, she
+would not see the wrong. That, at least, was in her power.
+
+Nevertheless, in the course of the day, remembering Uxmoor's worth, and
+the pain she had already given him, she was almost sorry she had indulged
+herself at his expense.
+
+Superfluous contrition! He came next day, as a matter of course. She
+liked him none the better for coming, but she went downstairs to him.
+
+He came toward her, but started back and uttered an exclamation. "You are
+not well," he said, in tones of tenderness and dismay.
+
+"Not very," she faltered; for his open manly concern touched her.
+
+"And you have come here to nurse this old lady? Indeed, Miss Vizard, you
+need nursing yourself. You know it is some time since I had the pleasure
+of seeing you, and the change is alarming. May I send you Dr. Atkins, my
+mother's physician?"
+
+"I am much obliged to you. No."
+
+"Oh, I forgot. You have a physician of your own sex. Why is she not
+looking after you?"
+
+"Miss Gale is better employed. She is at Vizard Court in attendance on a
+far more brilliant person--Mademoiselle Klosking, a professional singer.
+Perhaps you know her?"
+
+"I saw her at Homburg."
+
+"Well, she met with an accident in our hall--a serious one; and
+Harrington took her in, and has placed all his resources--his lady
+physician and all--at her service: he is so fond of _Music."_
+
+A certain satirical bitterness peered through these words, but honest
+Uxmoor did not notice it. He said, "Then I wish you would let me be your
+doctor--for want of a better."
+
+"And you think _you_ can cure me?" said Zoe, satirically.
+
+"It does seem presumptuous. But, at least, I could do you a little good
+if you could be got to try my humble prescription."
+
+"What is it?" asked Zoe, listlessly.
+
+"It is my mare Phillis. She is the delight of every lady who mounts her.
+She is thorough-bred, lively, swift, gentle, docile, amiable, perfect.
+Ride her on these downs an hour or two very day. I'll send her over
+to-morrow. May I?"
+
+"If you like. Rosa _would_ pack up my riding-habit."
+
+"Rosa was a prophetess."
+
+
+Next day came Phillis, saddled and led by a groom on horseback, and
+Uxmoor soon followed on an old hunter. He lifted Zoe to her saddle, and
+away they rode, the groom following at a respectful distance.
+
+When they got on the downs they had a delightful canter; but Zoe, in her
+fevered state of mind, was not content with that. She kept increasing the
+pace, till the old hunter could no longer live with the young filly; and
+she galloped away from Lord Uxmoor, and made him ridiculous in the eyes
+of his groom.
+
+The truth is, she wanted to get away from him.
+
+He drew the rein, and stood stock-still. She made a circuit of a mile,
+and came up to him with heightened color and flashing eyes, looking
+beautiful.
+
+"Well?" said she. "Don't you like galloping?"
+
+"Yes, but I don't like cruelty."
+
+"Cruelty?"
+
+"Look at the mare's tail how it is quivering, and her flanks panting! And
+no wonder. You have been over twice the Derby course at a racing pace.
+Miss Vizard, a horse is not a steam engine."
+
+"I'll never ride her again," said Zoe. "I did not come here to be
+scolded. I will go home."
+
+They walked slowly home in silence. Uxmoor hardly knew what to say to
+her; but at last he murmured, apologetically, "Never mind the poor mare,
+if you are better for galloping her."
+
+She waited a moment before she spoke, and then she said, "Well, yes; I am
+better. I'm better for my ride, and better for my scolding. Good-by."
+(Meaning forever.)
+
+"Good-by," said he, in the same tone. Only he sent the mare next day, and
+followed her on a young thorough-bred.
+
+"What!" said Zoe; "am I to have another trial?"
+
+"And another after that."
+
+So this time she would only canter very slowly, and kept stopping every
+now and then to inquire, satirically, if that would distress the mare.
+
+But Uxmoor was too good-humored to quarrel for nothing. He only laughed,
+and said, "You are not the only lady who takes a horse for a machine."
+
+These rides did her bodily health some permanent good; but their effect
+on her mind was fleeting. She was in fair spirits when she was actually
+bounding through the air, but she collapsed afterward.
+
+At first, when she used to think that Severne never came near her, and
+Uxmoor was so constant, she almost hated Uxmoor--so little does the wrong
+man profit by doing the right thing for a woman. I admit that, though not
+a deadly woman-hater myself.
+
+But by-and-by she was impartially bitter against them both; the wrong man
+for doing the right thing, and the right man for not doing it.
+
+As the days rolled by, and Severne did not appear, her indignation and
+wounded pride began to mount above her love. A beautiful woman counts
+upon pursuit, and thinks a man less than man if he does not love her well
+enough to find her, though hid in the caves of ocean or the labyrinths of
+Bermondsey.
+
+She said to herself, "Then he has no explanation to offer. Another woman
+has frightened him away from me. I have wasted my affections on a
+coward." Her bosom boiled with love, and contempt, and wounded pride; and
+her mind was tossed to and fro like a leaf in a storm. She began, by
+force of will, to give Uxmoor some encouragement; only, after it she
+writhed and wept.
+
+At last, finding herself driven to and fro like a leaf, she told Miss
+Maitland all, and sought counsel of her. She must have something to lean
+on.
+
+The old lady was better by this time, and spoke kindly to her. She said
+Mr. Severne was charming, and she was not bound to give him up because
+another lady had past claims on him. But it appeared to her that Mr.
+Severne himself had deserted her. He had not written to her. Probably he
+knew something that had not yet transpired, and had steeled himself to
+the separation for good reasons. It was a decision she must accept. Let
+her then consider how forlorn is the condition of most deserted women
+compared with hers. Here was a devoted lover, whom she esteemed, and who
+could offer her a high position and an honest love. If she had a mother,
+that mother would almost force her to engage herself at once to Lord
+Uxmoor. Having no mother, the best thing she could do would be to force
+herself--to say some irrevocable words, and never look back. It was the
+lot of her sex not to marry the first love, and to be all the happier in
+the end for that disappointment, though at the time it always seemed
+eternal.
+
+All this, spoken in a voice of singular kindness by one who used to be so
+sharp, made Zoe's tears flow gently and somewhat cooled her raging heart.
+
+She began now to submit, and only cry at intervals, and let herself
+drift; and Uxmoor visited her every day, and she found it impossible not
+to esteem and regard him. Nevertheless, one afternoon, just about his
+time, she was seized with such an aversion to his courtship, and such a
+revolt against the slope she seemed gliding down, that she flung on her
+bonnet and shawl, and darted out of the house to escape him. She said to
+the servant, "I am gone for a walk, if anybody calls."
+
+Uxmoor did call, and, receiving this message, he bit his lip, sent the
+horse home and walked up to the windmill, on the chance of seeing her
+anywhere. He had already observed she was never long in one mood; and as
+he was always in the same mind, he thought perhaps he might be tolerably
+welcome, if he could meet her unexpected.
+
+Meantime Zoe walked very fast to get away from the house as soon as
+possible, and she made a round of nearly five miles, walking through two
+villages, and on her return lost her way. However, a shepherd showed her
+a bridle-road which, he told her, would soon take her to Somerville
+Villa, through "the small pastures;" and, accordingly, she came into a
+succession of meadows not very large. They were all fenced and gated; but
+the gates were only shut, not locked. This was fortunate; for they were
+new five-barred gates, and a lady does not like getting over these, even
+in solitude. Her clothes are not adapted.
+
+There were sheep in some of these, cows in others, and the pastures
+wonderfully green and rich, being always well manured, and fed down by
+cattle.
+
+Zoe's love of color was soothed by these emerald fields, dotted with
+white sheep and red cows.
+
+In the last field, before the lane that led to the village, a single
+beast was grazing. Zoe took no notice of him, and walked on; but he took
+wonderful notice of her, and stared, then gave a disagreeable snort. He
+took offense at her Indian shawl, and, after pawing the ground and
+erecting his tail, he came straight at her at a tearing trot, and his
+tail out behind him.
+
+Zoe saw, and screamed violently, and ran for the gate ahead, which, of
+course, was a few yards further from her than the gate behind. She ran
+for her life; but the bull, when he saw that, broke into a gallop
+directly, and came up fast with her. She could not escape.
+
+At that moment a man vaulted clean over the gate, tore a pitchfork out of
+a heap of dung that luckily stood in the corner, and boldly confronted
+the raging bull just in time; for at that moment Zoe lost heart, and
+crouched, screaming, in the side ditch, with her hands before her eyes.
+
+The new-comer, rash as his conduct seemed, was country-bred and knew what
+he was about: he drove one of the prongs clean through the great
+cartilage of the bull's mouth, and was knocked down like a nine-pin, with
+the broken staff of the pitch-fork in his hand; and the bull reared in
+the air with agony, the prong having gone clean through his upper lip in
+two places, and fastened itself, as one fastens a pin, in that leathery
+but sensitive organ.
+
+Now Uxmoor was a university athlete; he was no sooner down than up. So,
+when the bull came down from his rearing, and turned to massacre his
+assailant, he was behind him, and seizing his tail, twisted it, and
+delivered a thundering blow on his backbone, and followed it up by a
+shower of them on his ribs. "Run to the gate, Zoe!" he roared. Whack!
+whack! whack!--"Run to the gate, I tell
+you!"--whack!--whack!--whack!--whack!--whack!
+
+Thus ordered, Zoe Vizard, who would not have moved of herself, being in a
+collapse of fear, scudded to the gate, got on the right side of it, and
+looked over, with two eyes like saucers. She saw a sight incredible to
+her. Instead of letting the bull alone, now she was safe, Uxmoor was
+sticking to him like a ferret. The bull ran, tossing his nose with pain
+and bellowing: Uxmoor dragged by the tail and compelled to follow in
+preposterous, giant strides, barely touching the ground with the point of
+his toe, pounded the creature's ribs with such blows as Zoe had never
+dreamed possible. They sounded like flail on wooden floor, and each blow
+was accompanied with a loud jubilant shout. Presently, being a five's
+player, and ambidexter, he shifted his hand, and the tremendous whacks
+resounded on the bull's left side. The bull, thus belabored, and
+resounding like the big drum, made a circuit of the field, but found it
+all too hot: he knew his way to a certain quiet farmyard; he bolted, and
+came bang at Zoe once more, with furious eyes and gore-distilling
+nostrils.
+
+But this time she was on the right side of the gate.
+
+Yet she drew back in dismay as the bull drew near: and she was right;
+for, in his agony and amazement, the unwieldy but sinewy brute leaped the
+five-barred gate, and cleared it all but the top rail; that he burst
+through, as if it had been paper, and dragged Uxmoor after him, and
+pulled him down, and tore him some yards along the hard road on his back,
+and bumped his head against a stone, and so got rid of him: then pounded
+away down the lane, snorting, and bellowing, and bleeding; the prong
+still stuck through his nostrils like a pin.
+
+Zoe ran to Uxmoor with looks of alarm and tender concern, and lifted his
+head to her tender bosom; for his clothes were torn, and his cheeks and
+hands bleeding. But he soon shook off his confusion, and rose without
+assistance.
+
+"Have you got over your fright?" said he; "that is the question."
+
+"Oh yes! yes! It is only you I am alarmed for. It is much better I should
+be killed than you."
+
+"Killed! I never had better fun in my life. It was glorious. I stuck to
+him, and hit--there, I have not had anything I could hit as hard as I
+wanted to, since I used to fight with my cousin Jack at Eton. Oh, Miss
+Vizard, it was a whirl of Elysium! But I am sorry you were frightened.
+Let me take you home."
+
+"Oh, yes, but not that way; that is the way the monster went!" quivered
+Zoe.
+
+"Oh, he has had enough of us."
+
+"But I have had too much of him. Take me some other road--a hundred miles
+round. How I tremble!"
+
+"So you do. Take my arm.--No, putting the tips of your fingers on it is
+no use; take it really--you want support. Be courageous, now--we are very
+near home."
+
+Zoe trembled, and cried a little, to conclude the incident, but walked
+bravely home on Uxmoor's arm.
+
+In the hall at Somerville Villa she saw him change color, and insisted on
+his taking some port wine.
+
+"I shall be very glad," said he.
+
+A decanter was brought. He filled a large tumbler and drank it off like
+water.
+
+This was the first intimation he gave Zoe that he was in pain, and his
+nerves hard tried; nor did she indeed arrive at that conclusion until he
+had left her.
+
+Of course, she carried all this to Aunt Maitland. That lady was quite
+moved by the adventure. She sat up in bed, and listened with excitement
+and admiration. She descanted on Lord Uxmoor's courage and chivalry, and
+congratulated Zoe that such a pearl of manhood had fallen at her feet.
+"Why, child," said she, "surely, after this, you will not hesitate
+between this gentleman and a beggarly adventurer, who has nothing, not
+even the courage of a man. Turn your back on all such rubbish, and be the
+queen of the county. I'd be content to die to-morrow if I could see you
+Countess of Uxmoor."
+
+"You shall live, and see it, dear aunt," said Zoe, kissing her.
+
+"Well," said Miss Maitland, "if anything can cure me, that will. And
+really," said she, "I feel better ever since that brave fellow began to
+bring you to your senses."
+
+Admiration and gratitude being now added to esteem, Zoe received Lord
+Uxmoor next day with a certain timidity and half tenderness she had never
+shown before; and, as he was by nature a rapid wooer, he saw his chance,
+and stayed much longer than usual, and at last hazarded a hope that he
+might be allowed to try and win her heart.
+
+Thereupon she began to fence, and say that love was all folly. He had her
+esteem and her gratitude, and it would be better for both of them to
+confine their sentiments within those rational bounds.
+
+"That I cannot do," said Uxmoor; "so I must ask your leave to be
+ambitious. Let me try and conquer your affection."
+
+"As you conquered the bull?"
+
+"Yes; only not so rudely, nor so quickly, I'll be bound."
+
+"Well, I don't know why I should object. I esteem you more than anybody
+in the world. You are my beau ideal of a man. If you can _make_ me love
+you, all the better for me. Only, I am afraid you cannot."
+
+"May I try?"
+
+"Yes," said Zoe, bushing carnation.
+
+"May I come every day?"
+
+"Twice a day, if you like."
+
+"I think I shall succeed--in time."
+
+"I hope you may."
+
+Then he kissed her hand devotedly--the first time in his life--and went
+away on wings.
+
+Zoe flew up to her aunt Maitland, flushed and agitated. "Aunt, I am as
+good as engaged to him. I have said such unguarded things. I'm sure _he_
+will understand it that I consent to receive his addresses as my lover.
+Not that I really said so."
+
+"I hope," said Aunt Maitland, "that you have committed yourself somehow
+or other, and cannot go back."
+
+"I think I have. Yes; it is all over. I cannot go back now."
+
+Then she burst out crying. Then she was near choking, and had to smell
+her aunt's salts, while still the tears ran fast.
+
+Miss Maitland received this with perfect composure. She looked on them as
+the last tears of regret given to a foolish attachment at the moment of
+condemning it forever. She was old, and had seen these final tears shed
+by more than one loving woman just before entering on her day of
+sunshine.
+
+And now Zoe must be alone, and vent her swelling heart. She tied a
+handkerchief round her head and darted into the garden. She went round
+and round it with fleet foot and beating pulses.
+
+The sun began to decline, and a cold wind to warn her in. She came, for
+the last time, to a certain turn of the gravel walk, where there was a
+little iron gate leading into the wooded walk from the meadows.
+
+At that gate she found a man. She started back, and leaned against the
+nearest tree, with her hands behind her.
+
+It was Edward Severne--all in black, and pale as death; but not paler
+than her own face turned in a moment.
+
+Indeed, they looked at each other like two ghosts.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+ZOE was the first to speak, or rather to gasp. "Why do you come here?"
+
+"Because _you_ are here."
+
+"And how dare you come where I am?--now your falsehood is found out and
+flung into my very face!"
+
+"I have never been false to you. At this moment I suffer for my
+fidelity."
+
+_"You_ suffer? I am glad of it. How?"
+
+"In many ways: but they are all light, compared with my fear of losing
+your love."
+
+"I will listen to no idle words," said Zoe sternly. "A lady claimed you
+before my face; why did you not stand firm like a man, and say, 'You have
+no claim on me now; I have a right to love another, and I do?' Why did
+you fly?--because you were guilty."
+
+"No," said he, doggedly. "Surprised and confounded, but not guilty. Fool!
+idiot! that I was. I lost my head entirely. Yes, it is hopeless. You
+_must_ despise me. You have a right to despise me."
+
+"Don't tell me," said Zoe: "you never lose your head. You are always
+self-possessed and artful. Would to Heaven I had never seen you!" She was
+violent.
+
+He gave her time. "Zoe," said he, after a while, "if I had not lost my
+head, should I have ill-treated a lady and nearly killed her?"
+
+"Ah!" said Zoe, sharply, "that is what you have been suffering
+from--remorse. And well you may. You ought to go back to her, and ask her
+pardon on your knees. Indeed, it is all you have left to do now."
+
+"I know I ought."
+
+"Then do what you ought. Good-by."
+
+"I cannot. I hate her."
+
+"What, because you have broken her heart, and nearly killed her?"
+
+"No; but because she has come between me and the only woman I ever really
+loved, or ever can."
+
+"She would not have done that if you had not given her the right. I see
+her now; she looked justice, and you looked guilt. Words are idle, when I
+can see her face before me still. No woman could look like that who was
+in the wrong. But you--guilt made you a coward: you were false to her and
+false to me; and so you ran away from us both. You would have talked
+either of us over, alone; but we were together: so you ran away. You have
+found me alone now, so you are brave again; but it is too late. I am
+undeceived. I decline to rob Mademoiselle Klosking of her lover; so
+good-by."
+
+And this time she was really going, but he stopped her. "At least don't
+go with a falsehood on your lips," said he, coldly.
+
+"A falsehood!--Me!"
+
+"Yes, it is a falsehood. How can you pretend I left that lady for you,
+when you know my connection with her had entirely ceased ten months
+before I ever saw your face?"
+
+This staggered Zoe a moment; so did the heat and sense of injustice he
+threw into his voice.
+
+"I forgot that," said she, naively. Then, recovering herself, "You may
+have parted with her; but it does not follow that she consented. Fickle
+men desert constant women. It is done every day."
+
+"You are mistaken again," said he. "When I first saw you, I had ceased to
+think of Mademoiselle Klosking; but it was not so when I first left her.
+I did not desert her. I tore myself from her. I had a great affection for
+her."
+
+"You dare to tell me that. Well, at all events, it is the truth. Why did
+you leave her, then?"
+
+"Out of self-respect. I was poor, she was rich and admired. Men sent her
+bouquets and bracelets, and flattered her behind the scenes, and I was
+lowered in my own eyes: so I left her. I was unhappy for a time; but I
+had my pride to support me, and the wound was healed long before I knew
+what it was to love, really to love."
+
+There was nothing here that Zoe could contradict. She kept silence, and
+was mystified.
+
+Then she attacked him on another quarter. "Have you written to her since
+you behaved like a ruffian to her?"
+
+"No. And I never will, come what may. It is wicked of me; but I hate her.
+I am compelled to esteem her. But I hate her."
+
+Zoe could quite understand that; but in spite of that she said, "Of
+course you do. Men always hate those they have used ill. Why did you not
+write to _me?_ Had a mind to be impartial, I suppose?"
+
+"I had reason to believe it would have been intercepted."
+
+"For shame! Vizard is incapable of such a thing."
+
+"Ah, you don't know how he is changed. He looks on me as a mad dog.
+Consider, Zoe: do, pray, take the real key to it all. He is in love with
+Mademoiselle Klosking, madly in love with her: and I have been so
+unfortunate as to injure her--nearly to kill her. I dare say he thinks it
+is on your account he hates me; but men deceive themselves. It is for
+_her_ he hates me."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Ay. Think for a moment, and you will see it is. _You_ are not in his
+confidence. I am sure he has never told _you_ that he ordered his keepers
+to shoot me down if I came about the house at night."
+
+"Oh no, no!" cried Zoe.
+
+"Do you know he has raised the country against me, and has warrants out
+against me for forgery, because I was taken in by a rogue who gave me
+bills with sham names on them, and I got Vizard to cash them? As soon as
+we found out how I had been tricked, my uncle and I offered at once to
+pay him back his money. But no! he prefers to keep the bills as a
+weapon."
+
+Zoe began to be puzzled a little. But she said, "You have been a long
+time discovering all these grievances. Why have you held no communication
+all this time?"
+
+"Because you were inaccessible. Does not your own heart tell you that I
+have been all these weeks trying to communicate, and unable? Why, I came
+three times under your window at night, and you never, never would look
+out."
+
+"I did look out ever so often."
+
+"If I had been you, I should have looked ten thousand times. I only left
+off coming when I heard the keepers were ordered to shoot me down. Not
+that I should have cared much, for I am desperate. But I had just sense
+enough left to see that, if my dead body had been brought bleeding into
+your hall some night, none of you would ever have been happy again. Your
+eyes would have been opened, all of you. Well, Zoe, you left Vizard
+Court; that I learned: but it was only this morning I could find out
+where you were gone: and you see I am here--with a price upon my head.
+Please read Vizard's advertisements."
+
+She took them and read them. A hot flush mounted to her cheek.
+
+"You see," said he, "I am to be imprisoned if I set my foot in
+Barfordshire. Well, it will be false imprisonment, and Mademoiselle
+Klosking's lover will smart for it. At all events, I shall take no orders
+but from you. You have been deceived by appearances. I shall do all I can
+to undeceive you, and if I cannot, there will be no need to imprison me
+for a deceit of which I was the victim, nor to shoot me like a dog for
+loving _you._ I will take my broken heart quietly away, and leave
+Barfordshire, and England, and the world, for aught I care."
+
+Then he cried: and that made her cry directly.
+
+"Ah!" she sighed, "we are unfortunate. Appearances are so deceitful. I
+see I have judged too hastily, and listened too little to my own heart,
+that always made excuses. But it is too late now."
+
+"Why too late?"
+
+"It is."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"It all looked so ugly, and you were silent. We are unfortunate. My
+brother would never let us marry; and, besides--Oh, why did you not come
+before?"
+
+"I might as well say, Why did you not look out of your window? You could
+have done it without risking your life, as I did. Or why did you not
+advertise. You might have invited an explanation from 'E. S.,' under
+cover to so-and-so."
+
+"Ladies never think of such things. You know that very well."
+
+"Oh, I don't complain; but I do say that those who love should not be
+ready to reproach; they should put a generous construction. You might
+have known, and you ought to have known, that I was struggling to find
+you, and torn with anguish at my impotence."
+
+"No, no. I am so young and inexperienced, and all my friends against you.
+It is they who have parted us."
+
+"How can they part us, if you love me still as I love you?"
+
+"Because for the last fortnight I have not loved you, but hated you, and
+doubted you, and thought my only chance of happiness was to imitate your
+indifference: and while I was thinking so, another person has come
+forward; one whom I have always esteemed: and now, in my pity and
+despair, I have given him hopes." She hid her burning face in her hands.
+
+"I see; you are false to me, and therefore you have suspected me of being
+false to you."
+
+At that she raised her head high directly. "Edward, you are unjust. Look
+in my face, and you may see what I have suffered before I could bring
+myself to condemn you."
+
+"What! your paleness, that dark rim under your lovely eyes--am I the
+cause?"
+
+"Indeed you are. But I forgive you. You are sadly pale and worn too. Oh,
+how unfortunate we are!"
+
+"Do not cry, dearest," said he. "Do not despair. Be calm, and let me know
+the worst. I will not reproach you, though you have reproached me. I love
+you as no woman can love. Come, tell me."
+
+"Then the truth is, Lord Uxmoor has renewed his attention to me."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"He has been here every day."
+
+Severne groaned.
+
+"Aunt Maitland was on his side, and spoke so kindly to me, and he saved
+my life from a furious bull. He is brave, noble, good, and he loves me. I
+have committed myself. I cannot draw back with honor."
+
+"But from me you can, because I am poor and hated, and have no title. If
+you are committed to him, you are engaged to me."
+
+"I am; so now I can go neither way. If I had poison, I would take it this
+moment, and end all."
+
+"For God's sake, don't talk so. I am sure you exaggerate. You cannot, in
+those few days, have pledged your faith to another. Let me see your
+finger. Ah! there's my ring on it still: bless you, my own darling
+Zoe--bless you;" and he covered her hand with kisses, and bedewed it with
+his ever-ready tears.
+
+The girl began to melt, and all power to ooze out of her, mind and body.
+She sighed deeply and said, "What can I do--I don't say with honor and
+credit, but with decency. What _can_ I do?"
+
+"Tell me, first, what you have said to him that you consider so
+compromising."
+
+Zoe, with many sighs, replied: "I believe--I said--I was unhappy. And so
+I was. And I owned--that I admired--and esteemed him. And so I do. And
+then of course he wanted more, and I could not give more; and he asked
+might he try and make me love him; and--I said--I am afraid I said--he
+might, if he could."
+
+"And a very proper answer, too."
+
+"Ah! but I said he might come every day. It is idle to deceive ourselves:
+I have encouraged his addresses. I can do nothing now with credit but
+die, or go into a convent."
+
+"When did you say this?"
+
+"This very day."
+
+"Then he has never acted on it."
+
+"No, but he will. He will be here tomorrow for certain."
+
+"Then your course is plain. You must choose to-night between him and me.
+You must dismiss him by letter, or me upon this spot. I have not much
+fortune to offer you, and no coronet; but I love you, and you have seen
+me reject a lovely and accomplished woman, whom I esteem as much as you
+do this lord. Reject him? Why, you have seen me fling her away from me
+like a dog sooner than leave you in a moment's doubt of my love: if you
+cannot write a civil note declining an earl for me, your love in not
+worthy of mine, and I will begone with my love. I will not take it to
+Mademoiselle Klosking, though I esteem her as you do this lord; but, at
+all events, I will take it away from you, and leave you my curse instead,
+for a false, fickle girl that could not wait one little month, but must
+fall, with her engaged ring on her finger, into another man's arms. Oh,
+Zoe! Zoe! who could have believed this of you?"
+
+"Don't reproach _me._ I won't bear it," she cried, wildly.
+
+"I hope not to have to reproach you," said he, firmly; "I cannot conceive
+your hesitating."
+
+"I am worn out. Love has been too great a torment. Oh, if I could find
+peace!"
+
+Again her tears flowed.
+
+He put on a sympathizing air. "You shall have peace. Dismiss _him_ as I
+tell you, and he will trouble you no more; shake hands with me, and say
+you prefer _him,_ and I will trouble you no more. But with two lovers,
+peace is out of the question, and so is self-respect. I know I could not
+vacillate between you and Mademoiselle Klosking or any other woman."
+
+"Ah, Edward, if I do this, you ought to love me very dearly."
+
+"I shall. Better than ever--if possible."
+
+"And never make me jealous again."
+
+"I never shall, dearest. Our troubles are over."
+
+"Edward, I have been very unhappy. I could not bear these doubts again."
+
+"You shall never be unhappy again."
+
+"I must do what you require, I suppose. That is how it always ends. Oh
+dear! oh dear!"
+
+"Zoe, it must be done. You know it must."
+
+"I warn you I shall do it as kindly as I can."
+
+"Of course you will. You ought to."
+
+"I must go in now. I feel very cold."
+
+"How soon to-morrow will you meet me here?"
+
+"When you please," said she, languidly.
+
+"At ten o'clock?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Then there was a tender parting, and Zoe went slowly in. She went to her
+own room, just to think it all over alone. She caught sight of her face
+in the glass. Her cheeks had regained color, and her eyes were bright as
+stars. She stopped and looked at herself. "There now," said she, "and I
+seem to myself to live again. I was mad to think I could ever love any
+man but him. He is my darling, my idol."
+
+
+There was no late dinner at Somerville Villa. Indeed, ladies, left to
+themselves, seldom dine late. Nature is strong in them, and they are
+hungriest when the sun is high. At seven o'clock Zoe Vizard was seated at
+her desk trying to write to Lord Uxmoor. She sighed, she moaned, she
+began, and dropped the pen and hid her face. She became almost wild; and
+in that state she at last dashed off what follows:
+
+
+"DEAR LORD UXMOOR--For pity's sake, forgive the mad words I said to you
+today. It is impossible. I can do no more than admire and esteem you. My
+heart is gone from me forever. Pray forgive me, though I do not deserve
+it; and never see me nor look at me again. I ask pardon for my
+vacillation. It has been disgraceful; but it has ended, and I was under a
+great error, which I cannot explain to you, when I led you to believe I
+had a heart to give you. My eyes are opened. Our paths lie asunder. Pray,
+pray forgive me, if it is possible. I will never forgive myself, nor
+cease to bless and revere you, whom I have used so ill.
+
+"ZOE VIZARD."
+
+
+That day Uxmoor dined alone with his mother, for a wonder, and he told
+her how Miss Vizard had come round; he told her also about the bull, but
+so vilely that she hardly comprehended he had been in any danger: these
+encounters are rarely described to the life, except by us who avoid
+them--except on paper.
+
+Lady Uxmoor was much pleased. She was a proud, politic lady, and this was
+a judicious union of two powerful houses in the county, and one that
+would almost command the elections. But, above all, she knew her son's
+heart was in the match, and she gave him a mother's sympathy.
+
+As she retired, she kissed him and said, "When you are quite sure of the
+prize, tell me, and I will call upon her."
+
+Being alone, Lord Uxmoor lighted a cigar and smoked it in measureless
+content. The servant brought him a note on a salver. It had come by hand.
+Uxmoor opened it and read every word straight through, down to "Zoe
+Vizard;" read it, and sat petrified.
+
+He read it again. He felt a sort of sickness come over him. He swallowed
+a tumbler of port, a wine he rarely touched; but he felt worse now than
+after the bullfight. This done, he rose and stalked like a wounded lion
+into the drawing-room, which was on the same floor, and laid the letter
+before his mother.
+
+"You are a woman too," said he, a little helplessly. "Tell me--what on
+earth does this mean?"
+
+The dowager read it slowly and keenly, and said, "It means--another man."
+
+"Ah!" said Uxmoor, with a sort of snarl.
+
+"Have you seen any one about her?"
+
+"No; not lately. At Vizard Court there was. But that is all over now, I
+conclude. It was a Mr. Severne, an adventurer, a fellow that was caught
+out in a lie before us all. Vizard tells me a lady came and claimed him
+before Miss Vizard, and he ran away."
+
+"An unworthy attachment, in short?"
+
+"Very unworthy, if it was an attachment at all."
+
+"Was he at Vizard Court when she declined your hand?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Did he remain, after you went?"
+
+"I suppose so. Yes, he must have."
+
+"Then the whole thing is clear: that man has come forward again
+unexpectedly, or written, and she dismisses you. My darling, there is but
+one thing for you to do. Leave her, and thank her for telling you in
+time. A less honorable fool would have hidden it, and then we might have
+had a Countess of Uxmoor in the Divorce Court some day or other.
+
+"I had better go abroad," said Uxmoor, with a groan. "This country is
+poisoned for me."
+
+"Go, by all means. Let Janneway pack up your things to-morrow."
+
+"I should like to kill that fellow first."
+
+"You will not even waste a thought on him, if you are my son."
+
+"You are right, mother. What am I to say to her?"
+
+"Not a word."
+
+"What, not answer her letter? It is humble enough, I am sure--poor soul!
+Mother, I am wretched, but I am not bitter, and my rival will revenge
+me."
+
+"Uxmoor, your going abroad is the only answer she shall have. The wisest
+man, in these matters, who ever lived has left a rule of conduct to every
+well-born man--a rule which, believe me, is wisdom itself:
+
+"Le bruit est pour le fat, la plainte est pour le sot; L'honnete homme
+trompe'; s'e'loigne, et ne dit mot."
+
+"You will make a tour, and not say a word to Miss Vizard, good, bad, nor
+indifferent. I insist upon that."
+
+"Very well. Thank you, dear mother; you guide me, and don't let me make a
+fool of myself, for I am terribly cut up. You will be the only Countess
+of Uxmoor in my day."
+
+Then he knelt at her feet, and she kissed his head and cried over him;
+but her tears only made this proud lady stronger.
+
+Next day he started on his travels.
+
+Now, but for Zoe, he would on no account have left England just then; for
+he was just going to build model cottages in his own village, upon
+designs of his own, each with a little plot, and a public warehouse or
+granary, with divisions for their potatoes and apples, etc. However, he
+turned this over in his mind while he was packing; he placed certain
+plans and papers in his dispatch box, and took his ticket to Taddington,
+instead of going at once to London. From Taddington he drove over to
+Hillstoke and asked for Miss Gale. They told him she was fixed at Vizard
+Court. That vexed him: he did not want to meet Vizard. He thought it the
+part of a Jerry Sneak to go and howl to a brother against his sister. Yet
+if Vizard questioned him, how could he conceal there was something wrong?
+However, he went down to Vizard Court; but said to the servant who opened
+the door, "I am rather in a hurry, sir: do you think you could procure me
+a few minutes with Miss Gale? You need not trouble Mr. Vizard."
+
+"Yes, my laud. Certainly, my laud. Please step in the morning-room, my
+laud. Mr. Vizard is out."
+
+That was fortunate, and Miss Gale came down to him directly.
+
+Fanny took that opportunity to chatter and tell Mademoiselle Klosking all
+about Lord Uxmoor and his passion for Zoe. "And he will have her, too,"
+said she, boldly.
+
+Lord Uxmoor told Miss Gale he had called upon business. He was obliged to
+leave home for a time, and wished to place his projects under the care of
+a person who could really sympathize with them, and make additions to
+them, if necessary. "Men," said he, "are always making oversights in
+matters of domestic comfort: besides, you are full of ideas. I want you
+to be viceroy with full power, and act just as you would if the village
+belonged to you."
+
+Rhoda colored high at the compliment.
+
+"Wells, cows, granary, real education--what you like" said he. "I know
+your mind. Begin abolishing the lower orders in the only way they can be
+got rid of--by raising them in comfort, cleanliness, decency, and
+knowledge. Then I shall not be missed. I'm going abroad."
+
+"Going abroad?"
+
+"Yes. Here are my plans: alter them for the better if you can. All the
+work to be done by the villagers. Weekly wages. We buy materials. They
+will be more reconciled to improved dwellings when they build them
+themselves. Here are the addresses of the people who will furnish money.
+It will entail traveling; but my people will always meet you at the
+station, if you telegraph from Taddington. You accept? A thousand thanks.
+I am afraid I must be off."
+
+She went into the hall with him, half bewildered, and only at the door
+found time to ask after Zoe Vizard.
+
+"A little better, I think, than when she came."
+
+"Does she know you are going abroad?"
+
+"No; I don't think she does, yet. It was settled all in a hurry."
+
+He escaped further questioning by hurrying away.
+
+Miss Gale was still looking after him, when Ina Klosking came down,
+dressed for a walk, and leaning lightly on Miss Dover's arm. This was by
+previous consent of Miss Gale.
+
+"Well, dear," said Fanny, "what did he say to you?"
+
+"Something that has surprised and puzzled me very much." She then related
+the whole conversation, with her usual precision.
+
+Ina Klosking observed quietly to Fanny that this did not look like
+successful wooing.
+
+"I don't know that," said Fanny, stoutly. "Oh, Miss Gale, did you not ask
+him about her?"
+
+"Certainly I did; and he said she was better than when she first came."
+
+"There!" said Fanny, triumphantly.
+
+Miss Gale gave her a little pinch, and she dropped the subject.
+
+Vizard returned, and found Mademoiselle Klosking walking on his gravel.
+He offered her his arm, and was a happy man, parading her very slowly,
+and supporting her steps, and purring his congratulations into her ear.
+"Suppose I were to invite you to dinner, what would you say?"
+
+"I think I should say, 'To-morrow.'"
+
+"And a very good answer, too. To-morrow shall be a _fete."_
+
+"You spoil me?"
+
+"That is impossible."
+
+It was strange to see them together; he so happy, she so apathetic, yet
+gracious.
+
+Next morning came a bit of human nature--a letter from Zoe to Fanny,
+almost entirely occupied with praises of Lord Uxmoor. She told the bull
+story better than I have--if possible--and, in short, made Uxmoor a hero
+of romance.
+
+Fanny carried this in triumph to the other ladies, and read it out.
+"There!" said she. "Didn't I tell you?"
+
+Rhoda read the letter, and owned herself puzzled. "I am not, then," said
+Fanny: "they are engaged--over the bull; like Europa and I forgot
+who--and so he is not afraid to go abroad now. That is just like the men.
+They cool directly the chase is over."
+
+Now the truth was that Zoe was trying to soothe her conscience with
+elegant praises of the man she had dismissed, and felt guilty.
+
+Ina Klosking said little. She was puzzled too at first. She asked to see
+Zoe's handwriting. The letter was handed to her. She studied the
+characters. "It is a good hand," she said; "nothing mean there." And she
+gave it back.
+
+But, with a glance, she had read the address, and learned that the post
+town was Bagley.
+
+All that day, at intervals, she brought her powerful understanding to
+bear on the paradox; and though she had not the facts and the clew I have
+given the reader, she came near the truth in an essential matter. She
+satisfied herself that Lord Uxmoor was not engaged to Zoe Vizard.
+Clearly, if so, he would not leave England for months. She resolved to
+know more; and just before dinner she wrote a line to Ashmead, and
+requested him to call on her immediately.
+
+That day she dined with Vizard and the ladies. She sat at Vizard's right
+hand, and he told her how proud, and happy he was to see her there.
+
+She blushed faintly, but made no reply.
+
+She retired soon after dinner.
+
+All next day she expected Ashmead.
+
+He did not come.
+
+She dined with Vizard next day, and retired to the drawing-room. The
+piano was opened, and she played one or two exquisite things, and
+afterward tried her voice, but only in scales, and somewhat timidly, for
+Miss Gale warned her she might lose it or spoil it if she strained the
+vocal chord while her whole system was weak.
+
+Next day Ashmead came with apologies.
+
+He had spent a day in the cathedral town on business. He did not tell her
+how he had spent that day, going about puffing her as the greatest singer
+of sacred music in the world, and paving the way to her engagement at the
+next festival. Yet the single-hearted Joseph had really raised that
+commercial superstructure upon the sentiments she had uttered on his
+first visit to Vizard Court.
+
+Ina now held a private conference with him. "I think," said she, "I have
+heard you say you were once an actor."
+
+"I was, madam, and a very good one, too."
+
+_"Cela va sans dire._ I never knew one that was not. At all events, you
+can disguise yourself."
+
+"Anything, madam, from Grandfather Whitehead to a boy in a pinafore.
+Famous for my make-ups."
+
+"I wish you to watch a certain house, and not be recognized by a person
+who knows you."
+
+"Well, madam, nothing is _infra dig,_ if done for you; nothing is
+distasteful if done for you."
+
+"Thank you, my friend. I have thought it well to put my instructions on
+paper."
+
+"Ay, that is the best way."
+
+She handed him the instructions. He read them, and his eyes sparkled.
+"Ah, this is a commission I undertake with pleasure, and I'll execute it
+with zeal."
+
+He left her, soon after, to carry out these instructions, and that very
+evening he was in the wardrobe of the little theater, rummaging out a
+suitable costume, and also in close conference with the wigmaker.
+
+
+Next day Vizard had his mother's sables taken out and aired, and drove
+Mademoiselle Klosking into Taddington in an open carriage. Fanny told her
+they were his mother's sables, and none to compare with them in the
+country.
+
+On returning, she tried her voice to the harmonium in her own
+antechamber, and found it was gaining strength--like herself.
+
+
+Meantime Zoe Vizard met Severne in the garden, and told him she had
+written to Lord Uxmoor, and he would never visit her again. But she did
+not make light of the sacrifice this time. She had sacrificed her own
+self-respect as well as Uxmoor's, and she was sullen and tearful.
+
+He had to be very wary and patient, or she would have parted with him
+too, and fled from both of them to her brother.
+
+Uxmoor's wounded pride would have been soothed could he have been present
+at the first interview of this pair. He would have seen Severne treated
+with a hauteur and a sort of savageness he himself was safe from, safe in
+her unshaken esteem.
+
+But the world is made for those who can keep their temper, especially the
+female part of the world.
+
+Sad, kind, and loving, but never irritable, Severne smoothed down and
+soothed and comforted the wounded girl; and, seeing her two or three
+times a day--for she was completely mistress of her time--got her
+completely into his power again.
+
+Uxmoor did not reply.
+
+She had made her selection. Love beckoned forward. It was useless to look
+back.
+
+Love was omnipotent. They both began to recover their good looks as if by
+magic; and as Severne's passion, though wicked, was earnest, no poor bird
+was ever more completely entangled by bird-lime than Zoe was caught by
+Edward Severne.
+
+Their usual place of meeting was the shrubbery attached to Somerville
+Villa. The trees, being young, made all the closer shade, and the
+gravel-walk meandered, and shut them out from view.
+
+Severne used to enter this shrubbery by a little gate leading from the
+meadow, and wait under the trees till Zoe came to him. Vizard's
+advertisements alarmed him, and he used to see the coast clear before he
+entered the shrubbery, and also before he left it. He was so particular
+in this that, observing one day an old man doddering about with a basket,
+he would not go in till he had taken a look at him. He found it was an
+ancient white-haired villager gathering mushrooms. The old fellow was so
+stiff, and his hand so trembling, that it took him about a minute to
+gather a single fungus.
+
+To give a reason for coming up to him, Severne said, "How old are you,
+old man?"
+
+"I be ninety, measter, next Martinmas-day."
+
+"Only ninety?" said our Adonis, contemptuously; "you look a hundred and
+ninety."
+
+He would have been less contemptuous had he known that the mushrooms were
+all toad-stools, and the village centenaire was Mr. Joseph Ashmead,
+resuming his original arts, and playing Grandfather Whitehead on the
+green grass.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+MADEMOISELLE KLOSKING told Vizard the time drew near when she must leave
+his hospitable house.
+
+"Say a month hence," said he.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"Of course you will not stay to gratify me," said he, half sadly, half
+bitterly. "But you will have to stay a week or two longer _par ordonnance
+du me'decin."_
+
+"My physician is reconciled to my going. We must all bow to necessity."
+
+This was said too firmly to admit a reply. "The old house will seem very
+dark again whenever you do go," said Vizard, plaintively.
+
+"It will soon be brightened by her who is its true and lasting light,"
+was the steady reply.
+
+A day or two passed with nothing to record, except that Vizard hung about
+Ina Klosking, and became, if possible, more enamored of her and more
+unwilling to part with her.
+
+Mr. Ashmead arrived one afternoon about three o'clock, and was more than
+an hour with her. They conversed very earnestly, and when he went, Miss
+Gale found her agitated.
+
+"This will not do," said she.
+
+"It will pass, my friend," said Ina. "I will sleep."
+
+She laid herself down and slept three hours before dinner.
+
+She arose refreshed, and dined with the little party; and on retiring to
+the drawing-room, she invited Vizard to join them at his convenience. He
+made it his convenience in ten minutes.
+
+Then she opened the piano, played an introduction, and electrified them
+all by singing the leading song in Siebel. She did not sing it so
+powerfully as in the theater; she would not have done that even if she
+could: but still she sung it out, and nobly. It seemed a miracle to hear
+such singing in a room.
+
+Vizard was in raptures.
+
+They cooled suddenly when she reminded him what he had said, that she
+must stay till she could sing Siebel's song. "I keep to the letter of the
+contract," said she. "My friends, this is my last night at Vizard Court."
+
+"Please try and shake that resolution," said Vizard, gravely, to
+Mesdemoiselles Dover and Gale.
+
+"They cannot," said Ina. "It is my destiny. And yet," said she, after a
+pause, "I would not have you remember me by that flimsy thing. Let me
+sing you a song your mother loved; let me be remembered in this house, as
+a singer, by that."
+
+Then she sung Handel's song:
+
+"What though I trace each herb and flower That decks the morning dew? Did
+I not own Jehovah's power, How vain were all I knew."
+
+She sung it with amazing purity, volume, grandeur, and power; the lusters
+rang and shook, the hearts were thrilled, and the very souls of the
+hearers ravished. She herself turned a little pale in singing it, and the
+tears stood in her eyes.
+
+The song and its interpretation were so far above what passes for music
+that they all felt compliments would be an impertinence. Their eyes and
+their long drawn breath paid the true homage to that great master rightly
+interpreted--a very rare occurrence.
+
+"Ah!" said she; "that was the hand could brandish Goliath's spear."
+
+"And this is how you reconcile us to losing you," said Vizard. "You might
+stay, at least, till you had gone through my poor mother's collection."
+
+"Ah! I wish I could. But I cannot. I must not. My Fate forbids it."
+
+"'Fate' and 'destiny,'" said Vizard, "stuff and nonsense. We make our own
+destiny. Mine is to be eternally disappointed, and happiness snatched out
+of my hands."
+
+He had no sooner made this pretty speech than he was ashamed of it, and
+stalked out of the room, not to say any more unwise things.
+
+This burst of spleen alarmed Fanny Dover. "There," said she, "now you
+cannot go. He is very angry."
+
+Ina Klosking said she was sorry for that; but he was too just a man to be
+angry with her long: the day would come when he would approve her
+conduct. Her lip quivered a little as she said this, and the water stood
+in her eyes: and this was remembered and understood, long after, both by
+Miss Dover and Rhoda Gale.
+
+"When does your Royal Highness propose to start?" inquired Rhoda Gale,
+very obsequiously, and just a little bitterly.
+
+"To-morrow at half-past nine o'clock, dear friend," said Ina.
+
+"Then you will not go without me. You will get the better of Mr. Vizard,
+because he is only a man; but I am a woman, and have a will as well as
+you. If you make a journey to-morrow, I go with you. Deny me, and you
+shan't go at all." Her eyes flashed defiance.
+
+Ina moved one step, took Rhoda's little defiant head, and kissed her
+cheek. "Sweet physician and kind friend, of course you shall go with me,
+if you will, and be a great blessing to me."
+
+This reconciled Miss Gale to the proceedings. She packed up a carpet-bag,
+and was up early, making provisions of every sort for her patient's
+journey: air pillows, soft warm coverings, medicaments, stimulants, etc.,
+in a little bag slung across her shoulders. Thus furnished, and equipped
+in a uniform suit of gray cloth and wideawake hat, she cut a very
+sprightly and commanding figure, but more like Diana than Hebe.
+
+The Klosking came down, a pale Juno, in traveling costume; and a quarter
+of an hour before the time a pair-horse fly was at the door and Mr.
+Ashmead in the hall.
+
+The ladies were both ready.
+
+But Vizard had not appeared.
+
+This caused an uneasy discussion.
+
+"He must be very angry," said Fanny, in a half whisper.
+
+"I cannot go while he is," sighed La Klosking. "There is a limit even to
+my courage."
+
+"Mr. Harris," said Rhoda, "would you mind telling Mr. Vizard?"
+
+"Well, miss," said Harris, softly, "I did step in and tell him. Which he
+told me to go to the devil, miss--a hobservation I never knew him to make
+before."
+
+This was not encouraging. Yet the Klosking quietly inquired where he was.
+
+"In there, ma'am," said Harris. "In his study."
+
+Mademoiselle Klosking, placed between two alternatives, decided with her
+usual resolution. She walked immediately to the door and tapped at it;
+then, scarcely waiting for an instant, opened it and walked in with
+seeming firmness, though her heart was beating rather high.
+
+The people outside looked at one another. "I wonder whether he will tell
+_her_ to go to the devil," said Fanny, who was getting tired of being
+good.
+
+"No use," said Miss Gale; "she doesn't know the road."
+
+When La Klosking entered the study, Vizard was seated, disconsolate, with
+two pictures before him. His face was full of pain, and La Klosking's
+heart smote her. She moved toward him, hanging her head, and said, with
+inimitable sweetness and tenderness, "Here is a culprit come to try and
+appease you."
+
+There came a time that he could hardly think of these words and her
+penitent, submissive manner with dry eyes. But just then his black dog
+had bitten him, and he said, sullenly, "Oh, never mind me. It was always
+so. Your sex have always made me smart for--If flying from my house
+before you are half recovered gives you half the pleasure it gives me
+pain and mortification, say no more about it."
+
+"Ah! why say it gives me pleasure? my friend, you cannot really think
+so."
+
+"I don't know what to think. You ladies are all riddles."
+
+"Then I must take you into my confidence, and, with some reluctance, I
+own, let you know why I leave this dear, kind roof to-day."
+
+Vizard's generosity took the alarm. "No," said, "I will not extort your
+reasons. It is a shame of me. Your bare will ought to be law in this
+house; and what reasons could reconcile me to losing you so suddenly? You
+are the joy of our eyes, the delight of our ears, the idol of all our
+hearts. You will leave us, and there will be darkness and gloom, instead
+of sunshine and song. Well, go; but you cannot soften the blow with
+reasons."
+
+Mademoiselle Klosking flushed, and her bosom heaved; for this was a
+strong man, greatly moved. With instinctive tact, she saw the best way to
+bring him to his senses was to give him a good opening to retreat.
+
+"Ah, monsieur," said she, "you are _trop grand seigneur._ You entertain a
+poor wounded singer in a chamber few princes can equal. You place
+everything at her disposal; such a physician and nurse as no queen can
+command; a choir to sing to her; royal sables to keep the wind from her,
+and ladies to wait on her. And when you have brought her back to life,
+you say to yourself, She is a woman; she will not be thoroughly content
+unless you tell her she is adorable. So, out of politeness, you descend
+to the language of gallantry. This was not needed. I dispense with that
+kind of comfort. I leave your house because it is my duty, and leave it
+your grateful servant and true friend to my last hour."
+
+She had opened the door, and Vizard could now escape. His obstinacy and
+his heart would not let him.
+
+"Do not fence with me," said he. "Leave that to others. It is beneath
+you. If you had been content to stay, I would have been content to show
+my heart by halves. But when you offer to leave me, you draw from me an
+avowal I can no longer restrain, and you must and shall listen to it.
+When I saw you on the stage at Homburg, I admired you and loved you that
+very night. But I knew from experience how seldom in women outward graces
+go with the virtues of the soul. I distrusted my judgment. I feared you
+and I fled you. But our destiny brought you here, and when I held you,
+pale and wounded, in my very arms, my heart seemed to go out of my
+bosom."
+
+"Oh, no more! no more, pray!" cried Mademoiselle Klosking.
+
+But the current of love was not to be stemmed. "Since that terrible hour
+I have been in heaven, watching your gradual and sure recovery; but you
+have recovered only to abandon me, and your hurry to leave me drives me
+to desperation. No, I cannot part with you. You must not leave me, either
+this day or any day. Give me your hand, and stay here forever, and be the
+queen of my heart and of my house."
+
+For some time La Klosking had lost her usual composure. Her bosom heaved
+tumultuously, and her hands trembled. But at this distinct proposal the
+whole woman changed. She drew herself up, with her pale cheek flushing
+and her eyes glittering.
+
+"What, sir?" said she. "Have you read me so ill? Do you not know I would
+rather be the meanest drudge that goes on her knees and scrubs your
+floors, than be queen of your house, as you call it? Ah, Jesu, are all
+men alike, then; that he whom I have so revered, whose mother's songs I
+have sung to him, makes me a proposal dishonorable to me and to himself?"
+
+"Dishonorable!" cried Vizard. "Why, what can any man offer to any woman
+more honorable than I offer you? I offer you my heart and my hand, and I
+say, do not go, my darling. Stay here forever, and be my queen, my
+goddess, my wife!"
+
+"YOUR WIFE?" She stared wildly at him. "Your wife? Am I dreaming, or are
+you?"
+
+"Neither. Do you think I can be content with less than that? Ina, I adore
+you."
+
+She put her hand to her head. "I know not who is to blame for this," said
+she, and she trembled visibly.
+
+"I'll take the blame," said he, gayly.
+
+Said Ina, very gravely. "You, who do me the honor to offer me your name,
+have you asked yourself seriously what has been the nature of my relation
+with Edward Severne?"
+
+"No!" cried Vizard, violently; "and I do not mean to. I see you despise
+him now; and I have my eyes and my senses to guide me in choosing a wife.
+I choose you--if you will have me."
+
+She listened, then turned her moist eyes full upon him, and said to him,
+"This is the greatest honor ever befell me. I cannot take it."
+
+"Not take it?"
+
+"No; but that is my misfortune. Do not be mortified. You have no rival in
+my esteem. What shall I say, my friend?--at least I may call you that. If
+I explain now, I shall weep much, and lose my strength. What shall I do?
+I think--yes, that will be best--_you shall go with me to-day."_
+
+"To the end of the world!"
+
+"Something tells me you will know all, and forgive me."
+
+"Shall I take my bag?"
+
+"You might take an evening dress and some linen."
+
+"Very well. I won't keep you a moment," said he, and went upstairs with
+great alacrity.
+
+She went into the hall, with her eyes bent on the ground, and was
+immediately pinned by Rhoda Gale, whose piercing eye, and inquisitive
+finger on her pulse, soon discovered that she had gone through a trying
+scene. "This is a bad beginning of an imprudent journey," said she: "I
+have a great mind to countermand the carriage."
+
+"No, no," said Ina; "I will sleep in the railway and recover myself."
+
+The ladies now got into the carriage; Ashmead insisted on going upon the
+box; and Vizard soon appeared, and took his seat opposite Miss Gale and
+Mademoiselle Klosking. The latter whispered her doctress: "It would be
+wise of me not to speak much at present." La Gale communicated this to
+Vizard, and they drove along in dead silence. But they were naturally
+curious to know where they were going; so they held some communication
+with their eyes. They very soon found they were going to Taddington
+Station.
+
+Then came a doubt--were they going up or down?
+
+That was soon resolved.
+
+Mr. Ashmead had hired a saloon carriage for them, with couches and
+conveniences.
+
+They entered it; and Mademoiselle Klosking said to Miss Gale, "It is
+necessary that I should sleep."
+
+"You shall," said Miss Gale.
+
+While she was arranging the pillows and things, La Klosking said to
+Vizard, "We artists learn to sleep when we have work to do. Without it I
+should not be strong enough this day." She said this in a half-apologetic
+tone, as one anxious not to give him any shadow of offense.
+
+She was asleep in five minutes; and Miss Gale sat watching her at first,
+but presently joined Vizard at the other end, and they whispered
+together. Said she, "What becomes of the theory that women have no
+strength of will? There is Mademoiselle _Je le veux_ in person. When she
+wants to sleep, she sleeps; and look at you and me--do you know where we
+are going?"
+
+"No."
+
+"No more do I. The motive power is that personification of divine repose
+there. How beautiful she is with her sweet lips parted, and her white
+teeth peeping, and her upper and lower lashes wedded, and how graceful!"
+
+"She is a goddess," said Vizard. "I wish I had never seen her. Mark my
+words, she will give me the sorest heart of all."
+
+"I hope not," said Rhoda, very seriously.
+
+Ina slept sweetly for nearly two hours, and all that time her friends
+could only guess where they were going.
+
+At last the train stopped, for the sixth time, and Ashmead opened the
+door.
+
+This worthy, who was entirely in command of the expedition, collected the
+luggage, including Vizard's bag, and deposited it at the station. He then
+introduced the party to a pair-horse fly, and mounted the box.
+
+When they stopped at Bagley, Vizard suspected where they were going.
+
+When he saw the direction the carriage took, he knew it, and turned very
+grave indeed.
+
+He even regretted that he had put himself so blindly under the control of
+a woman. He cast searching glances at Mademoiselle Klosking to try and
+discover what on earth she was going to do. But her face was as
+impenetrable as marble. Still, she never looked less likely to do
+anything rash or in bad taste. Quietness was the main characteristic of
+her face, when not rippled over by a ravishing sweetness; but he had
+never seen her look so great, and lofty, and resolute as she looked now;
+a little stern, too, as one who had a great duty to do, and was
+inflexible as iron. When truly feminine features stiffen into marble like
+this, beauty is indeed imperial, and worthy of epic song; it rises beyond
+the wing of prose.
+
+My reader is too intelligent not to divine that she was steeling herself
+to a terrible interview with Zoe Vizard--terrible mainly on account of
+the anguish she knew she must inflict.
+
+But we can rarely carry out our plans exactly as we trace
+them--unexpected circumstances derange them or expand them; and I will so
+far anticipate as to say that in this case a most unexpected turn of
+events took La Klosking by surprise.
+
+Whether she proved equal to the occasion these pages will show very soon.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+POIKILUS never left Taddington--only the "Swan." More than once he was
+within sight of Ashmead unobserved. Once, indeed, that gentleman, who had
+a great respect for dignitaries, saluted him; for at that moment Poikilus
+happened to be a sleek dignitary of the Church of England. Poikilus, when
+quite himself, wore a mustache, and was sallow, and lean as a weasel; but
+he shaved and stuffed and colored for the dean. Shovel-hat, portly walk,
+and green spectacles did the rest. Grandfather Whitehead saluted. His
+reverence chuckled.
+
+Poikilus kept Severne posted by letter and wire as to many things that
+happened outside Vizard Court; but he could not divine the storm that was
+brewing inside Ina Klosking's room. Yet Severne defended himself exactly
+as he would have done had he known all. He and Zoe spent Elysian hours,
+meeting twice a day in the shrubbery, and making love as if they were the
+only two creatures in the world; but it was blind Elysium only to one of
+them--Severne was uneasy and alarmed the whole time. His sagacity showed
+him it could not last, and there was always a creeping terror on him.
+Would not Uxmoor cause inquiries? Would he not be sure to tell Vizard?
+Would not Vizard come there to look after Zoe, or order her back to
+Vizard Court? Would not the Klosking get well, and interfere once more?
+He passed the time between heaven and hell; whenever he was not under the
+immediate spell of Zoe's presence, a sort of vague terror was always on
+him. He looked all round him, wherever he went.
+
+This terror, and his passion, which was now as violent as it was wicked,
+soon drove him to conceive desperate measures. But, by masterly
+self-government, he kept them two days to his own bosom. He felt it was
+too soon to raise a fresh and painful discussion with Zoe. He must let
+her drink unmixed delight, and get a taste for it; and then show her on
+what conditions alone it could be had forever.
+
+It was on the third day after their reconciliation she found him seated
+on a bench in the shrubbery, lost in thought, and looking very dejected.
+She was close to him before he noticed; then he sprung up, stared at her,
+and began to kiss her hands violently, and even her very dress.
+
+"It is you," said he, "once more."
+
+"Yes, dear," said Zoe, tenderly; "did you think I would not come?"
+
+"I did not know whether you could come. I feel that my happiness cannot
+last long. And, Zoe dear, I have had a dream. I dreamed we were taken
+prisoners, and carried to Vizard Court, and on the steps stood Vizard and
+Mademoiselle Klosking arm-in-arm; I believe they were man and wife. And
+you were taken out and led, weeping, into the house, and I was left there
+raging with agony. And then that lady put out her finger in a commanding
+way, and I was whirled away into utter darkness, and I heard you moan,
+and I fought, and dashed my head against the carriage, and I felt my
+heart burst, and my whole body filled with some cold liquid, and I went
+to sleep, and I heard a voice say, 'It is all over; his trouble is
+ended.' I was dead."
+
+This narrative, and his deep dejection, set Zoe's tears flowing. "Poor
+Edward!" she sighed. "I would not survive you. But cheer up, dear; it was
+only a dream. We are not slaves. I am not dependent on any one. How can
+we be parted?"
+
+"We shall, unless we use our opportunity, and make it impossible to part
+us. Zoe, do not slight my alarm and my misgivings; such warnings are
+prophetic. For Heaven's sake, make one sacrifice more, and let us place
+our happiness beyond the reach of man!"
+
+"Only tell me how."
+
+"There is but one way--marriage."
+
+Zoe blushed high, and panted a little, but said nothing.
+
+"Ah!" said he, piteously, "I ask too much."
+
+"How can you say that?" said Zoe. "Of course I shall marry you, dearest.
+What! do you think I could do what I _have_ done for anybody but my
+husband that is to be?"
+
+"I was mad to think otherwise," said he, "but I am in low spirits, and
+full of misgivings. Oh, the comfort, the bliss, the peace of mind, the
+joy, if you would see our hazardous condition, and make all safe by
+marrying me to-morrow."
+
+"To-morrow! Why, Edward, are you mad? How can we be married, so long as
+my brother is so prejudiced against you?"
+
+"If we wait his consent, we are parted forever. He would forgive us after
+it--that is certain. But he would never consent. He is too much under the
+influence of his--of Mademoiselle Klosking."
+
+"Indeed, I cannot hope he will consent beforehand," sighed Zoe; "but I
+have not the courage to defy him; and if I had, we could not marry all in
+a moment, like that. We should have to be cried in church."
+
+"That is quite gone out among ladies and gentlemen."
+
+"Not in our family. Besides, even a special license takes time, I
+suppose. Oh no, I could not be married in a clandestine, discreditable
+way. I am a Vizard--please remember that. Would you degrade the woman you
+honor with your choice?"
+
+And her red cheeks and flashing eyes warned him to desist.
+
+"God forbid!" said he. "If that is the alternative, I consent to lose
+her--and lose her I shall."
+
+He then affected to dismiss the subject, and said, "Let me enjoy the
+hours that are left me. Much misery or much bliss can be condensed in a
+few days. I will enjoy the blessed time, and we will wait for the chapter
+of accidents that is sure to part us." Then he acted reckless happiness,
+and broke down at last.
+
+She cried, but showed no sign of yielding. Her pride and self-respect
+were roused and on their defense.
+
+The next day he came to her quietly sad. He seemed languid and listless,
+and to care for nothing. He was artful enough to tell her, on the
+information of Poikilus, that Vizard had hired the cathedral choir three
+times a week to sing to his inamorata; and that he had driven her about
+Taddington, dressed like a duchess, in a whole suit of sables.
+
+At that word the girl turned pale.
+
+He observed, and continued: "And it seems these sables are known
+throughout the county. There were several carriages in the town, and my
+informant heard a lady say they were Mrs. Vizard's sables, worth five
+hundred guineas--a Russian princess gave them her."
+
+"It is quite true," said Zoe. "His mother's sables! Is it possible!"
+
+"They all say he is caught at last, and this is to be the next Mrs.
+Vizard."
+
+"They may well say so, if he parades her in his mother's sables," said
+Zoe, and could not conceal her jealousy and her indignation. "I never
+dared so much as ask his permission to wear them," said she.
+
+"And if you had, he would have told you the relics of a saint were not to
+be played with."
+
+"That is just what he would have said, I do believe." The female heart
+was stung.
+
+"Ah, well," said Severne, "I am sure I should not grudge him his
+happiness, if you would see things as he does, and be as brave as he is."
+
+"Thank you," said Zoe. "Women cannot defy the world as men do." Then,
+passionately, "Why do you torment me so? why do you urge me so? a poor
+girl, all alone, and far from advice. What on earth would you have me
+do?"
+
+"Secure us against another separation, unite us in bliss forever."
+
+"And so I would if I could; you know I would. But it is impossible."
+
+"No, Zoe; it is easy. There are two ways: we can reach Scotland in eight
+hours; and there, by a simple writing and declaration before witnesses,
+we are man and wife."
+
+"A Gretna Green marriage?"
+
+"It is just as much a legal marriage as if a bishop married us at St.
+Paul's. However, we could follow it up immediately by marriage in a
+church, either in Scotland or the North of England But there is another
+way: we can be married at Bagley, any day, before the registrar."
+
+"Is that a marriage--a real marriage?"
+
+"As real, as legal, as binding as a wedding in St. Paul's."
+
+"Nobody in this county has ever been married so. I should blush to be
+seen about after it."
+
+"Our first happy year would not be passed in this country. We should go
+abroad for six months."
+
+"Ay, fly from shame."
+
+"On our return we should be received with open arms by my own people in
+Huntingdonshire, until your people came round, as they always do."
+
+He then showed her a letter, in which his pearl of a cousin said they
+would receive his wife with open arms, and make her as happy as they
+could. Uncle Tom was coming home from India, with two hundred thousand
+pounds; he was a confirmed old bachelor, and Edward his favorite, etc.
+
+Zoe faltered a little: so then he pressed her hard with love, and
+entreaties, and promises, and even hysterical tears; then she began to
+cry--a sure sign of yielding. "Give me time," she said--"give me time."
+
+He groaned, and said there was no time to lose. Otherwise he never would
+have urged her so.
+
+For all that, she could not be drawn to a decision. She must think over
+such a step. Next morning, at the usual time, he came to know his fate.
+But she did not appear. He waited an hour for her. She did not come. He
+began to rage and storm, and curse his folly for driving her so hard.
+
+At last she came, and found him pale with anxiety, and looking utterly
+miserable. She told him she had passed a sleepless night, and her head
+had ached so in the morning she could not move.
+
+"My poor darling!" said he; "and I am the cause. Say no more about it,
+dear one. I see you do not love me as I love you, and I forgive you."
+
+She smiled sadly at that, for she was surer of her own love than his.
+
+Zoe had passed a night of torment and vacillation; and but for her
+brother having paraded Mademoiselle Klosking in his mother's sables, she
+would, I think, have held out. But this turned her a little against her
+brother; and, as he was the main obstacle to her union with Severne, love
+and pity conquered. Yet still Honor and Pride had their say. "Edward,"
+said she, "I love you with all my heart, and share your fears that
+accident may separate us. I will let you decide for both of us. But,
+before you decide, be warned of one thing. I am a girl no longer, but a
+woman who has been distracted with many passions. If any slur rests on my
+fair name, deeply as I love you now, I shall abhor you then."
+
+He turned pale, for her eye flashed dismay into his craven soul.
+
+He said nothing; and she continued: "If you insist on this hasty,
+half-clandestine marriage, then I consent to this--I will go with you
+before the registrar, and I shall come back here directly. Next morning
+early we will start for Scotland, and be married that other way before
+witnesses. Then your fears will be at an end, for you believe in these
+marriages; only as I do not--for I look on these _legal_ marriages merely
+as solemn betrothals--I shall be Miss Zoe Vizard, and expect you to treat
+me so, until I have been married in a church, like a lady."
+
+"Of course you shall," said he; and overwhelmed her with expressions of
+gratitude, respect, and affection.
+
+This soothed her troubled mind, and she let him take her hand and pour
+his honeyed flatteries into her ear, as he walked her slowly up and down.
+
+She could hardly tear herself away from the soft pressure of his hand and
+the fascination of his tongue, and she left him, more madly in love with
+him than ever, and ready to face anything but dishonor for him. She was
+to come out at twelve o'clock, and walk into Bagley with him to betroth
+herself to him, as she chose to consider it, before the stipendiary
+magistrate, who married couples in that way. Of the two marriages she had
+consented to, merely as preliminaries to a real marriage, Zoe despised
+this the most; for the Scotch marriage was, at all events, ancient, and
+respectable lovers had been driven to it again and again.
+
+She was behind her time, and Severne thought her courage had failed her,
+after all. But no: at half-past twelve she came out, and walked briskly
+toward Bagley.
+
+He was behind her, and followed her. She took his arm nervously. "Let me
+feel you all the way," she said, "to give me courage."
+
+So they walked arm-in-arm; and, as they went, his courage secretly
+wavered, her's rose at every step.
+
+About half a mile from the town they met a carriage and pair.
+
+At sight of them a gentleman on the box tapped at the glass window, and
+said, hurriedly, "Here they are _together."_
+
+Mademoiselle Klosking said, "Stop the carriage": then, pausing a little,
+"Mr. Vizard--on your word of honor, no violence."
+
+The carriage was drawn up, Ashmead opened the door in a trice, and La
+Klosking, followed by Vizard, stepped out, and stood like a statue before
+Edward Severne and Zoe Vizard.
+
+Severne dropped her arm directly, and was panic-stricken.
+
+Zoe uttered a little scream at the sight of Vizard; but the next moment
+took fire at her rival's audacity, and stepped boldly before her lover,
+with flashing eyes and expanded nostrils that literally breathed
+defiance.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+"YOU infernal scoundrel!" roared Vizard, and took a stride toward
+Severne.
+
+"No violence," said Ina Klosking, sternly: "it will be an insult to this
+lady and me."
+
+"Very well, then," said Vizard, grimly, "I must wait till I catch him
+alone."
+
+"Meantime, permit me to speak, sir," said Ina. "Believe me, I have a
+better right than even you."
+
+"Then pray ask my sister why I find her on that villain's arm."
+
+"I should not answer her," said Zoe, haughtily. "But my brother I will.
+Harrington, all this vulgar abuse confirms me in my choice: I take his
+arm because I have accepted his hand. I am going into Bagley with him to
+become his wife."
+
+This announcement took away Vizard's breath for a moment, and Ina
+Klosking put in her word. "You cannot do that: pray he warned. He is
+leading you to infamy."
+
+"Infamy! What, because he cannot give me a suit of sables? Infamy!
+because we prefer virtuous poverty to vice and wealth?"
+
+"No, young lady," said Ina, coloring faintly at the taunt; "but because
+you could only be his paramour; not his wife. He is married already."
+
+At these words, spoken with that power Ina Klosking could always command,
+Zoe Vizard turned ashy pale. But she fought on bravely.
+
+"Married? It is false! To whom?"
+
+"To me."
+
+"I thought so. Now I know it is not true. He left you months before we
+ever knew him."
+
+"Look at him. He does not say it is false."
+
+Zoe turned on Severne, and at his face her own heart quaked. "Are you
+married to this lady?" she asked; and her eyes, dilated to their full
+size, searched his every feature.
+
+"Not that I know of," said he, impudently.
+
+"Is that the serious answer you expected, Miss Vizard?" said Ina, keenly:
+then to Severne, "You are unwise to insult the woman on whom, from this
+day, you must depend for bread. Miss Vizard, to you I speak, and not to
+this shameless man. For your mother's sake, do me justice. I have loved
+him dearly; but now I abhor him. Would I could break the tie that binds
+us and give him to you, or to any lady who would have him! But I cannot.
+And shall I hold my tongue, and let you be ruined and dishonored? I am an
+older woman than you, and bound by gratitude to all your house. Dear
+lady, I have taxed my strength to save you. I feel that strength waning.
+Pray read this paper, and consent to save _yourself."_
+
+"I will read it," said Rhoda Gale, interfering. "I know German. It is an
+authorized duplicate certifying the marriage of Edward Severne, of
+Willingham, in Huntingdonshire, England, to Ina Ferris, daughter of
+Walter Ferris and Eva Klosking, of Zutzig, in Denmark. The marriage was
+solemnized at Berlin, and here are the signatures of several witnesses:
+Eva Klosking; Fraulein Graafe; Zug, the Capellmeister; Vicomte Meurice,
+French _attache';_ Count Hompesch, Bavarian plenipotentiary; Herr
+Formes."
+
+Ina explained, in a voice that was now feeble, "I was a public character;
+my marriage was public: not like the clandestine union which is all he
+dared offer to this well-born lady."
+
+"The Bavarian and French ministers are both in London," said Vizard,
+eagerly. "We can easily learn if these signatures are forged, like _your_
+acceptances."
+
+But, if one shadow of doubt remained, Severne now removed it; he uttered
+a scream of agony, and fled as if the demons of remorse and despair were
+spurring him with red-hot rowels.
+
+"There, you little idiot!" roared Vizard; "does that open you eyes?"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Vizard," said Ina, reproachfully, "for pity's sake, think only
+of her youth, and what she has to suffer. I can do no more for her: I
+feel--so--faint."
+
+Ashmead and Rhoda supported her into the carriage. Vizard, touched to the
+heart by Ina's appeal, held out his eloquent arms to his stricken sister,
+and she tottered to him, and clung to him, all limp and broken, and
+wishing she could sink out of the sight of all mankind. He put his strong
+arm round her, and, though his own heart was desolate and broken, he
+supported that broken flower of womanhood, and half led, half lifted her
+on, until he laid her on a sofa in Somerville Villa. Then, for the first
+time, he spoke to her. "We are both desolate, now, my child. Let us love
+one another. I will be ten times tenderer to you than I ever have been."
+She gave a great sob, but she was past speaking.
+
+
+Ina Klosking, Miss Gale, and Ashmead returned in the carriage to Bagley.
+Half a mile out of the town they found a man lying on the pathway, with
+his hat off, and white as a sheet. It was Edward Severne. He had run till
+he dropped.
+
+Ashmead got down and examined him. He came back to the carriage door,
+looking white enough himself. "It is all over," said he; "the man is
+dead."
+
+Miss Gale was out in a moment and examined him. "No," said she. "The
+heart does not beat perceptibly; but he breathes. It is another of those
+seizures. Help me get him into the carriage."
+
+This was done, and the driver ordered to go a foot's pace.
+
+The stimulants Miss Gale had brought for Ina Klosking were now applied to
+revive this malefactor; and both ladies actually ministered to him with
+compassionate faces. He was a villain; but he was superlatively handsome,
+and a feather might turn the scale of life or death.
+
+The seizure, though really appalling to look at, did not last long. He
+revived a little in the carriage, and was taken, still insensible, but
+breathing hard, into a room in the railway hotel. When he was out of
+danger, Miss Gale felt Ina Klosking's pulse, and insisted on her going to
+Taddington by the next train and leaving Severne to the care of Mr.
+Ashmead.
+
+Ina, who, in truth, was just then most unfit for any more trials, feebly
+consented, but not until she had given Ashmead some important
+instructions respecting her malefactor, and supplied him with funds. Miss
+Gale also instructed Ashmead how to proceed in case of a relapse, and
+provided him with materials.
+
+The ladies took a train, which arrived soon after; and, being so
+fortunate as to get a lady's carriage all to themselves, they sat
+intertwined and rocking together, and Ina Klosking found relief at last
+in a copious flow of tears.
+
+Rhoda got her to Hillstoke, cooked for her, nursed her, lighted fires,
+aired her bed, and these two friends slept together in each other's arms.
+
+Ashmead had a hard time of it with Severne. He managed pretty well with
+him at first, because he stupefied him with brandy before he had come to
+his senses, and in that state got him into the next train. But as the
+fumes wore off, and Severne realized his villainy, his defeat, and his
+abject condition between the two women he had wronged, he suddenly
+uttered a yell and made a spring at the window. Ashmead caught him by his
+calves, and dragged him so powerfully down that his face struck the floor
+hard and his nose bled profusely. The hemorrhage and the blow quieted him
+for a time, and then Ashmead gave him more brandy, and got him to the
+"Swan" in a half-lethargic lull. This faithful agent, and man of all
+work, took a private sitting room with a double bedded room adjoining it,
+and ordered a hot supper with champagne and madeira. Severne lay on a
+sofa moaning.
+
+The waiter stared. "Trouble!" whispered Ashmead, confidentially. "Take no
+notice. Supper as quick as possible."
+
+By-and-by Severne started up and began to rave and tear about the room,
+cursing his hard fate, and ended in a kind of hysterical fit. Ashmead,
+being provided by Miss Gale with salts and aromatic vinegar, etc.,
+applied them, and ended by dashing a tumbler of water right into his
+face, which did him more good than chemistry.
+
+Then he tried to awaken manhood in the fellow. "What are _you_ howling
+about?" said he. "Why, you are the only sinner, and you are the least
+sufferer. Come, drop sniveling, and eat a bit. Trouble don't do on an
+empty stomach."
+
+Severne said he would try, but begged the waiter might not be allowed to
+stare at a broken-hearted man.
+
+"Broken fiddlesticks!" said honest Joe.
+
+Severne tried to eat, but could not. But he could drink, and said so.
+
+Ashmead gave him champagne in tumblers, and that, on his empty stomach,
+set him raving, and saying life was hell to him now. But presently he
+fell to weeping bitterly. In which condition Ashmead forced him to bed,
+and there he slept heavily. In the morning Ashmead sat by his bedside,
+and tried to bring him to reason. "Now, look here," said he, "you are a
+lucky fellow, if you will only see it. You have escaped bigamy and a
+jail, and, as a reward for your good conduct to your wife, and the many
+virtues you have exhibited in a short space of time, I am instructed by
+that lady to pay you twenty pounds every Saturday at twelve o'clock. It
+is only a thousand a year; but don't you be down-hearted; I conclude she
+will raise your salary as you advance. You must forge her name to a heavy
+check, rob a church, and abduct a schoolgirl or two--misses in their
+teens and wards of Chancery preferred--and she will make it thirty, no
+doubt;" and Joe looked very sour.
+
+"That for her twenty pounds a week!" cried this injured man. "She owes me
+two thousand pounds and more. She has been my enemy, and her own. The
+fool!--to go and peach! She had only to hold her tongue, and be Mrs.
+Vizard, and then she would have had a rich husband that adores her, and I
+should have had my darling beautiful Zoe, the only woman I ever loved or
+ever shall."
+
+"Oh," said Ashmead, "then you expected your wife to commit bigamy, and so
+make it smooth to you."
+
+_"Of course I did,"_ was the worthy Severne' s reply; "and so she would,
+if she had had a grain of sense. See what a contrast now. We are all
+unhappy--herself included--and it is all her doing."
+
+"Well, young man," said Ashmead, drawing a long breath; "didn't I tell
+you you are a lucky fellow? You have got twenty pounds a week, and that
+blest boon, 'a conscience void of offense.' You are a happy man. Here's a
+strong cup of tea for you: just you drink it, and then get up and take
+the train to the little village. There kindred spirits and fresh delights
+await you. You are not to adorn Barfordshire any longer: that is the
+order."
+
+"Well, I'll go to London--but not without you."
+
+"Me! What do you want of _me?"_
+
+"You are a good fellow, and the only friend I have left. But for you, I
+should be dead, or mad. You have pulled me through."
+
+"Through the window I did. Lord, forgive me for it," said Joseph. "Well,
+I'll go up to town with you; but I can't be always tied to your tail. I
+haven't got twenty pounds a week. To be sure," he added, dryly, "I
+haven't earned it. That is one comfort."
+
+He telegraphed Hillstoke, and took Severne up to London.
+
+There the Bohemian very soon found he could live, and even derive some
+little enjoyment from his vices--without Joseph Ashmead. He visited him
+punctually every Saturday, and conversed delightfully. If he came any
+other day, it was sure to be for an advance: he never got it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+FANNY DOVER was sent for directly to Somerville Villa; and, three days
+after the distressing scene I have endeavored to describe, Vizard brought
+his wrecked sister home. Her condition was pitiable; and the moment he
+reached Vizard Court he mounted his horse and rode to Hillstoke to bring
+Miss Gale down to her.
+
+There he found Ina Klosking, with her boxes at the door, waiting for the
+fly that was to take her away.
+
+It was a sad interview. He thanked her deeply for her noble conduct to
+his sister, and then he could not help speaking of his own
+disappointment.
+
+Mademoiselle Klosking, on this occasion, was simple, sad, and even
+tender, within prudent limits. She treated this as a parting forever, and
+therefore made no secret of her esteem for him. "But," said she, "I hope
+one day to hear you have found a partner worthy of you. As for me, who am
+tied for life to one I despise, and can never love again, I shall seek my
+consolation in music, and, please God, in charitable actions."
+
+He kissed her hand at parting, and gave her a long, long look of
+miserable regret that tried her composure hard, and often recurred to her
+memory.
+
+She went up to London, took a small suburban house, led a secluded life,
+and devoted herself to her art, making a particular study now of sacred
+music; she collected volumes of it, and did not disdain to buy it at
+bookstalls, or wherever she could find it.
+
+Ashmead worked for her, and she made her first appearance in a new
+oratorio. Her songs proved a principal feature in the performance.
+
+
+Events did not stand still in Barfordshire; but they were tame, compared
+with those I have lately related, and must be dispatched in fewer words.
+
+Aunt Maitland recovered unexpectedly from a severe illness, and was a
+softened woman: she sent Fanny off to keep Zoe company. That poor girl
+had a bitter time, and gave Doctress Gale great anxiety. She had no brain
+fever, but seemed quietly, insensibly, sinking into her grave. No
+appetite, and indeed was threatened with atrophy at one time. But she was
+so surrounded with loving-kindness that her shame diminished, her pride
+rose, and at last her agony was blunted, and only a pensive languor
+remained to show that she had been crushed, and could not be again the
+bright, proud, high-spirited beauty of Barfordshire.
+
+For many months she never mentioned either Edward Severne, Ina Klosking,
+or Lord Uxmoor.
+
+It was a long time before she went outside the gates of her own park. She
+seemed to hate the outer world.
+
+Her first visit was to Miss Gale; that young lady was now very happy. She
+had her mother with her. Mrs. Gale had defeated the tricky executor, and
+had come to England with a tidy little capital, saved out of the fire by
+her sagacity and spirit.
+
+Mrs. Gale's character has been partly revealed by her daughter. I have
+only to add she was a homely, well-read woman, of few words, but those
+few--grape-shot. Example--she said to Zoe, "Young lady, excuse an old
+woman's freedom, who might be your mother: the troubles of young folk
+have a deal of self in them; more than you could believe. Now just you
+try something to take you out of self, and you will be another creature."
+
+"Ah," sighed Zoe, "would to Heaven I could!"
+
+"Oh," said Mrs. Gale, "anybody with money can do it, and the world so
+full of real trouble. Now, my girl tells me you are kind to the poor: why
+not do something like Rhoda is doing for this lord she is overseer, or
+goodness knows what, to?"
+
+Rhoda (defiantly), "Viceroy."
+
+"You have money, and your brother will not refuse you a bit o' land. Why
+not build some of these new-fangled cottages, with fancy gardens, and
+dwarf palaces for a cow and a pig? Rhoda, child, if I was a poor woman, I
+could graze a cow in the lanes hereabouts, and feed a pig in the woods.
+Now you do that for the poor, Miss Vizard, and don't let my girl think
+for you. Breed your own ideas. That will divert you from self, my dear,
+and you will begin to find it--there--just as if a black cloud was
+clearing away from your mind, and letting your heart warm again."
+
+Zoe caught at the idea, and that very day asked Vizard timidly whether he
+would let her have some land to build a model cottage or two on.
+
+Will it be believed that the good-natured Vizard made a wry face? "What,
+two proprietors in Islip!" For a moment or two he was all squire. But
+soon the brother conquered. "Well," said he, "I can't give you a
+fee-simple; I must think of my heirs: but I will hold a court, and grant
+you a copy-hold; or I'll give you a ninety-nine years' lease at a
+pepper-corn. There's a slip of three acres on the edge of the Green. You
+shall amuse yourself with that." He made it over to her directly, for a
+century, at ten shillings a year; and, as he was her surviving trustee,
+he let her draw in advance on her ten thousand pounds.
+
+Mapping out the ground with Rhoda, settling the gardens and the miniature
+pastures, and planning the little houses and outhouses, and talking a
+great deal, compared with what she transacted, proved really a certain
+antidote to that lethargy of woe which oppressed her: and here, for a
+time, I must leave her, returning slowly to health of body, and some
+tranquillity of mind; but still subject to fits of shame, and gnawed by
+bitter regrets.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+THE reputation Mademoiselle Klosking gained in the new oratorio, aided by
+Ashmead's exertions, launched her in a walk of art that accorded with her
+sentiments.
+
+She sung in the oratorio whenever it could be performed, and also sung
+select songs from it, and other sacred songs at concerts.
+
+She was engaged at a musical festival in the very cathedral town whose
+choir had been so consoling to her. She entered with great zeal into this
+engagement, and finding there was a general desire to introduce the
+leading chorister-boy to the public in a duet, she surprised them all by
+offering to sing the second part with him, if he would rehearse it
+carefully with her at her lodgings. He was only too glad, as might be
+supposed. She found he had a lovely voice, but little physical culture.
+He read correctly, but did not even know the nature of the vocal
+instrument and its construction, which is that of a bagpipe. She taught
+him how to keep his lungs full in singing, yet not to gasp, and by this
+simple means enabled him to sing with more than twice the power he had
+ever exercised yet. She also taught him the swell, a figure of music he
+knew literally nothing about.
+
+When, after singing a great solo, to salvos of applause, Mademoiselle
+Klosking took the second part with this urchin, the citizens and all the
+musical people who haunt a cathedral were on the tiptoe of expectation.
+The boy amazed them, and the rich contralto that supported him and rose
+and swelled with him in ravishing harmony enchanted them. The vast
+improvement in the boy's style did not escape the hundreds of persons who
+knew him, and this duet gave La Klosking a great personal popularity.
+
+Her last song, by her own choice, was, "What though I trace" (Handel),
+and the majestic volume that rang through the echoing vault showed with
+what a generous spirit she had subdued that magnificent organ not to
+crush her juvenile partner in the preceding duet.
+
+Among the persons present was Harrington Vizard. He had come there
+against his judgment; but he could not help it.
+
+He had been cultivating a dull tranquillity, and was even beginning his
+old game of railing on women, as the great disturbers of male peace. At
+the sight of her, and the sound of her first notes, away went his
+tranquillity, and he loved her as ardently as ever. But when she sung his
+mother's favorite, and the very roof rang, and three thousand souls were
+thrilled and lifted to heaven by that pure and noble strain, the rapture
+could not pass away from this one heart; while the ear ached at the
+cessation of her voice, the heart also ached, and pined, and yearned.
+
+He ceased to resist. From that day he followed her about to her public
+performances all over the Midland Counties; and she soon became aware of
+his presence. She said nothing till Ashmead drew her attention; then,
+being compelled to notice it, she said it was a great pity. Surely he
+must have more important duties at home.
+
+Ashmead wanted to recognize him, and put him into the best place vacant;
+but La Klosking said, "No. I will be more his friend than to lend him the
+least encouragement."
+
+At the end of that tour she returned to London.
+
+While she was there in her little suburban house, she received a visit
+from Mr. Edward Severne. He came to throw himself at her feet and beg
+forgiveness. She said she would try and forgive him. He then implored her
+to forget the past. She told him that was beyond her power. He persisted,
+and told her he had come to his senses; all his misconduct now seemed a
+hideous dream, and he found he had never really loved any one but her. So
+then he entreated her to try him once more; to give him back the treasure
+of her love.
+
+She listened to him like a woman of marble. "Love where I despise!" said
+she. "Never. The day has gone by when these words can move me. Come to me
+for the means of enjoying yourself--gambling, drinking, and your other
+vices--and I shall indulge you. But do not profane the name of love. I
+forbid you ever to enter my door on that errand. I presume you want
+money. There is a hundred pounds. Take it; and keep out of my sight till
+you have wasted it."
+
+He dashed the notes proudly down. She turned her back on him, and glided
+into another room.
+
+When she returned, he was gone, and the hundred pounds had managed to
+accompany him.
+
+He went straight from her to Ashmead and talked big. He would sue for
+restitution of conjugal rights.
+
+"Don't do that, for my sake," said Ashamed. "She will fly the country
+like a bird, and live in some village on bread and milk."
+
+"Oh, I would not do you an ill turn for the world," said the Master of
+Arts. "You have been a kind friend to me. You saved my life. It is
+imbittered by remorse, and recollections of the happiness I have thrown
+away, and the heart I have wronged. No matter!"
+
+This visit disturbed La Klosking, and disposed her to leave London. She
+listened to a brilliant offer that was made her, through Ashmead, by the
+manager of the Italian Opera, who was organizing a provincial tour. The
+tour was well advertised in advance, and the company opened to a grand
+house at Birmingham.
+
+Mademoiselle Klosking had not been long on the stage when she discovered
+her discarded husband in the stalls, looking the perfection of youthful
+beauty. The next minute she saw Vizard in a private box. Mr. Severne
+applauded her loudly, and flung her a bouquet. Mr. Vizard fixed his eyes
+on her, beaming with admiration, but made no public demonstration.
+
+The same incident repeated itself every night she sung, and at every
+town.
+
+At last she spoke about it to Ashmead, in the vague, suggestive way her
+sex excels in. "I presume you have observed the people in front."
+
+"Yes, madam. Two in particular."
+
+"Could you not advise him to desist?"
+
+"Which of 'em, madam?"
+
+"Mr. Vizard, of course. He is losing his time, and wasting sentiments it
+is cruel should be wasted."
+
+Ashmead said he dared not take any liberty with Mr. Vizard.
+
+So the thing went on.
+
+Severne made acquaintance with the manager, and obtained the _entre'e_
+behind the scenes. He brought his wife a bouquet every night, and
+presented it to her with such reverence and grace, that she was obliged
+to take it and courtesy, or seem rude to the people about.
+
+Then she wrote to Miss Gale and begged her to come if she could.
+
+Miss Gale, who had all this time been writing her love-letters twice a
+week, immediately appointed her mother viceroy, and went to her friend.
+Ina Klosking explained the situation to her with a certain slight
+timidity and confusion not usual to her; and said, "Now, dear, you have
+more courage than the rest of us; and I know he has a great respect for
+you; and, indeed, Miss Dover told me he would quite obey you. Would it
+not be the act of a friend to advise him to cease this unhappy--What
+good can come of it? He neglects his own duties, and disturbs me in mine.
+I sometimes ask myself would it not be kinder of me to give up my
+business, or practice it elsewhere--Germany, or even Italy.
+
+"Does he call on you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Does he write to you?"
+
+"Oh no. I wish he would. Because then I should be able to reply like a
+true friend, and send him away. Consider, dear, it is not like a nobody
+dangling after a public singer; that is common enough. We are all run
+after by idle men; even Signorina Zubetta, who has not much voice, nor
+appearance, and speaks a Genoese patois when she is not delivering a
+libretto. But for a gentleman of position, with a heart of gold and the
+soul of an emperor, that he should waste his time and his feelings so, on
+a woman who can never be anything to him, it is pitiable."
+
+"Well, but, after all, it is his business; and he is not a child:
+besides, remember he is really very fond of music. If I were you I'd look
+another way, and take no notice."
+
+"But I cannot."
+
+"Ah! And why not, pray?"
+
+"Because he always takes a box on my left hand, two from the stage. I
+can't think how he gets it at all the theaters. And then he fixes his
+eyes on me so, I cannot help stealing a look. He never applauds, nor
+throws me bouquets. He looks: oh, you cannot conceive how he looks, and
+the strange effect it is beginning to produce on me."
+
+"He mesmerizes you?"
+
+"I know not. But it is a growing fascination. Oh, my dear physician,
+interfere. If it goes on, we shall be more wretched than ever." Then she
+enveloped Rhoda in her arms, and rested a hot cheek against hers.
+
+"I see," said Rhoda. "You are afraid he will make you love him."
+
+"I hope not. But artists are impressionable; and being looked at so, by
+one I esteem, night after night, when my nerves are strung--_cela
+m'agace;"_ and she gave a shiver, and then was a little hysterical; and
+that was very unlike her.
+
+Rhoda kissed her, and said resolutely she would stop it.
+
+"Not unkindly?"
+
+"Oh no."
+
+"You will not tell him it is offensive to me?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Pray do not give him unnecessary pain."
+
+"No."
+
+"He is not to be mortified."
+
+"No."
+
+"I shall miss him sadly."
+
+"Shall you?"
+
+"Naturally. Especially at each new place. Only conceive: one is always
+anxious on the stage; and it is one thing to come before a public all
+strangers, and nearly all poor judges; it is another to see, all ready
+for your first note, a noble face bright with intelligence and
+admiration--the face of a friend. Often that one face is the only one I
+allow myself to see. It hides the whole public."
+
+"Then don't you be silly and send it away. I'll tell you the one fault of
+your character: you think too much of other people, and too little of
+yourself. Now, that is contrary to the scheme of nature. We are sent into
+the world to take care of number one."
+
+"What!" said Ina; "are we to be all self-indulgence? Is there to be no
+principle, no womanly prudence, foresight, discretion? No; I feel the
+sacrifice: but no power shall hinder me from making it. If you cannot
+persuade him, I'll do like other singers. I will be ill, and quit the
+company."
+
+"Don't do that," said Rhoda. "Now you have put on your iron look, it is
+no use arguing--I know that to my cost. There--I will talk to him. Only
+don't hurry me; let me take my opportunity."
+
+This being understood, Ina would not part with her for the present, but
+took her to the theater. She dismissed her dresser, at Rhoda's request,
+and Rhoda filled that office. So they could talk freely.
+
+Rhoda had never been behind the scenes of a theater before, and she went
+prying about, ignoring the music, for she was almost earless. Presently,
+whom should she encounter but Edward Severne. She started and looked at
+him like a basilisk. He removed his hat and drew back a step with a great
+air of respect and humility. She was shocked and indignant with Ina for
+letting him be about her. She followed her off the stage into her
+dressing room, and took her to task. "I have seen Mr. Severne here."
+
+"He comes every night."
+
+"And you allow him?"
+
+"It is the manager."
+
+"But he would not admit him, if you objected."
+
+"I am afraid to do that."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"We should have an _esclandre._ I find he has had so much consideration
+for me as to tell no one our relation; and as he has never spoken to me,
+I do the most prudent thing I can, and take no notice. Should he attempt
+to intrude himself on me, then it will be time to have him stopped in the
+hall, and I shall do it _cou'te que cou'te._ Ah, my dear friend, mine is
+a difficult and trying position."
+
+After a very long wait, Ina went down and sung her principal song, with
+the usual bravas and thunders of applause. She was called on twice, and
+as she retired, Severne stepped forward, and, with a low, obsequious bow,
+handed her a beautiful bouquet. She took it with a stately courtesy, but
+never looked nor smiled.
+
+Rhoda saw that and wondered. She thought to herself, "That is carrying
+politeness a long way. To be sure, she is half a foreigner."
+
+Having done his nightly homage, Severne left the theater, and soon
+afterward the performance concluded, and Ina took her friend home.
+Ashmead was in the hall to show his patroness to her carriage--a duty he
+never failed in. Rhoda shook hands with him, and he said, "Delighted to
+see you here, miss. You will be a great comfort to her."
+
+The two friends communed till two o'clock in the morning: but the limits
+of my tale forbid me to repeat what passed.
+
+Suffice it to say that Rhoda was fairly puzzled by the situation; but,
+having a great regard for Vizard, saw clearly enough that he ought to be
+sent back to Islip. She thought that perhaps the very sight of her would
+wound his pride, and, finding his mania discovered by a third person, he
+would go of his own accord: so she called on him.
+
+My lord received her with friendly composure, and all his talk was about
+Islip. He did not condescend to explain his presence at Carlisle. He knew
+that _qui s'excuse s'accuse,_ and left her to remonstrate. She had hardly
+courage for that, and hoped it might be unnecessary.
+
+She told Ina what she had done. But her visit was futile: at night there
+was Vizard in his box.
+
+Next day the company opened in Manchester. Vizard was in his box
+there--Severne in front, till Ina's principal song. Then he came round
+and presented his bouquet. But this time he came up to Rhoda Gale, and
+asked her whether a penitent man might pay his respects to her in the
+morning.
+
+She said she believed there were very few penitents in the world.
+
+"I know one," said he.
+
+"Well, I don't, then," said the virago. "But _you_ can come, if you are
+not afraid."
+
+Of course Ina Klosking knew of this appointment two minutes after it was
+made. She merely said, "Do not let him talk you over."
+
+"He is not so likely to talk me over as you," said Rhoda.
+
+"You are mistaken," was Ina's reply. "I am the one person he will never
+deceive again."
+
+Rhoda Gale received his visit: he did not beat about the bush, nor fence
+at all. He declared at once what he came for. He said, "At the first
+sight of you, whom I have been so ungrateful to, I could not speak; but
+now I throw myself on your forgiveness. I think you must have seen that
+my ingratitude has never sat light on me."
+
+"I have seen that you were terribly afraid of me," said she.
+
+"I dare say I was. But I am not afraid of you now; and here, on my knees,
+I implore you to forgive my baseness, my ingratitude. Oh, Miss Gale, you
+don't know what it is to be madly in love; one has no principle, no right
+feeling, against a real passion: and I was madly in love with her. It was
+through fear of losing her I disowned my physician, my benefactress, who
+had saved my life. Miserable wretch! It was through fear of losing her
+that I behaved like a ruffian to my angel wife, and would have committed
+bigamy, and been a felon. What was all this but madness? You, who are so
+wise, will you not forgive me a crime that downright insanity was the
+cause of?"
+
+"Humph! if I understand right, you wish me to forgive you for looking in
+my face, and saying to the woman who had saved your life, 'I don't know
+you?'"
+
+"Yes--if you can. No: now you put it in plain words, I see it is not to
+be forgiven."
+
+"You are mistaken. It was like a stab to my heart, and I cried bitterly
+over it."
+
+"Then I deserve to be hanged; that is all."
+
+"But, on consideration, I believe it is as much your nature to be wicked
+as it is my angel Ina's to be good. So I forgive you that one thing, you
+charming villain." She held out her hand to him in proof of her good
+faith.
+
+He threw himself on his knees directly, and kissed and mumbled her hand,
+and bedewed it with hysterical tears.
+
+"Oh, don't do that," said she; "or I'm bound to give you a good kick. I
+hate she men."
+
+"Give me a moment," said he, "and I will be a man again."
+
+He sat with his face in his hands, gulping a little.
+
+"Come," said she, cocking her head like a keen jackdaw; "now let us have
+the real object of your visit."
+
+"No, no," said he, inadvertently--"another time will do for that. I am
+content with your forgiveness. Now I can wait."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"Can you ask? Do you consider this a happy state of things?"
+
+"Certainly not. But it can't be helped: and we have to thank you for it."
+
+"It could be helped in time. If you would persuade her to take the first
+step."
+
+"What step?"
+
+"Not to disown her husband. To let him at least be her friend--her
+penitent, humble friend. We are man and wife. If I were to say so
+publicly, she would admit it. In this respect at least I have been
+generous: will she not be generous too? What harm could it do her if we
+lived under the same roof, and I took her to the theater, and fetched her
+home, and did little friendly offices for her?"
+
+"And so got the thin edge of the wedge in, eh? Mr. Severne, I decline all
+interference in a matter so delicate, and in favor of a person who would
+use her as ill as ever, if he once succeeded in recovering her
+affections."
+
+So then she dismissed him peremptorily.
+
+But, true to Vizard's interest, she called on him again, and, after a few
+preliminaries, let him know that Severne was every night behind the
+scenes.
+
+A spasm crossed his face. "I am quite aware of that," said he. "But he is
+never admitted into her house."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"He is under constant surveillance."
+
+"Spies?"
+
+"No. Thief-takers. All from Scotland Yard."
+
+"And love brings men down to this. What is it for?"
+
+"When I am sure of your co-operation, I will let you know my hopes."
+
+"He doubts my friendship," said Rhoda sorrowfully.
+
+"No; only your discretion."
+
+"I will be discreet."
+
+"Well, then, sooner or later, he is sure to form some improper connection
+or other; and then I hope you will aid me in persuading her to divorce
+him."
+
+"That is not so easy in this country. It is not like our Western States,
+where, the saying is, they give you five minutes at a railway station for
+di--vorce."
+
+"You forget she is a German Protestant and the marriage was in that
+country. It will be easy enough."
+
+"Very well; dismiss it from your mind. She will never come before the
+public in that way. Nothing you nor I could urge would induce her."
+
+Vizard replied, doggedly, "I will never despair, so long as she keeps him
+out of her house."
+
+Rhoda told Ina Klosking this, and said, "Now it is in your own hands. You
+have only to let your charming villain into your house, and Mr. Vizard
+will return to Islip."
+
+Ina Klosking buried her face in her hands, and thought.
+
+At night, Vizard in his box, as usual. Severne behind the scenes with his
+bouquet. But this night he stayed for the ballet, to see a French
+danseuse who had joined them. He was acquainted with her before, and had
+a sprightly conversation with her. In other words, he renewed an old
+flirtation.
+
+The next opera night all went as usual. Vizard in the box, looking sadder
+than usual. Rhoda's good sense had not been entirely wasted. Severne,
+with his bouquet, and his grave humility, until the play ended, and La
+Klosking passed out into the hall. Her back was hardly turned when
+Mademoiselle Lafontaine, dressed for the ballet, in a most spicy costume,
+danced up to her old friend, and slapped his face very softly with a
+rose, then sprung away and stood on her defense.
+
+"I'll have that rose," cried Severne.
+
+"Nenni."
+
+"And a kiss into the bargain."
+
+"Jamais."
+
+"C'est ce que nous verrons."
+
+He chased her. She uttered a feigned "Ah!" and darted away. He followed
+her; she crossed the scene at the back, where it was dark, bounded over
+an open trap, which she saw just in time, but Severne, not seeing it,
+because she was between him and it, fell through it, and, striking the
+mazarine, fell into the cellar, fifteen feet below the stage.
+
+The screams of the dancers soon brought a crowd round the trap, and
+reached Mademoiselle Klosking just as she was going out to her carriage.
+"There!" she cried. "Another accident!" and she came back, making sure it
+was some poor carpenter come to grief, as usual. On such occasions her
+purse was always ready.
+
+They brought Severne up sensible, but moaning, and bleeding at the
+temple, and looking all streaky about the face.
+
+They were going to take him to the infirmary; but Mademoiselle Klosking,
+with a face of angelic pity, said, "No; he bleeds, he bleeds. He must go
+to my house."
+
+They stared a little; but it takes a good deal to astonish people in a
+theater.
+
+Severne was carried out, his head hastily bandaged, and he was lifted
+into La Klosking's carriage. One of the people of the theater was
+directed to go on the box, and La Klosking and Ashmead supported him, and
+he was taken to her lodgings. She directed him to be laid on a couch, and
+a physician sent for, Miss Gale not having yet returned from Liverpool,
+whither she had gone to attend a lecture.
+
+Ashmead went for the physician. But almost at the door he met Miss Gale
+and Mr. Vizard.
+
+"Miss," said he, "you are wanted. There has been an accident. Mr. Severne
+has fallen through a trap, and into the cellar."
+
+"No bones broken?"
+
+"Not he: he has only broken his head; and that will cost her a broken
+heart."
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"Where I hoped never to see him again.
+
+"What! in her house?" said Rhoda and, hurried off at once.
+
+"Mr. Ashmead," said Vizard, "a word with you."
+
+"By all means, sir," said Ashmead, "as we go for the doctor. Dr. Menteith
+has a great name. He lives close by your hotel, sir."
+
+As they went, Vizard asked him what he meant by saying this accident
+would cost her a broken heart.
+
+"Why, sir," said Ashmead, "he is on his good behavior to get back; has
+been for months begging and praying just to be let live under the same
+roof. She has always refused. But some fellows have such luck. I don't
+say he fell down a trap on purpose; but he has done it, and no broken
+bones, but plenty of blood. That is the very thing to overcome a woman's
+feelings; and she is not proof against pity. He will have her again. Why,
+she is his nurse now; and see how that will work. We have a week's more
+business here; and, by bad luck, a dead fortnight, all along of Dublin
+falling through unexpectedly. He is as artful as Old Nick; he will spin
+out that broken head of his and make it last all the three weeks; and she
+will nurse him, and he will be weak, and grateful, and cry, and beg her
+pardon six times a day, and she is only a woman, after all: and they are
+man and wife, when all is done: the road is beaten. They will run upon it
+again, till his time is up to play the rogue as bad as ever."
+
+"You torture me," said Vizard.
+
+"I am afraid I do, sir. But I feel it my duty. Mr. Vizard, you are a
+noble gentleman, and I am only what you see; but the humblest folk will
+have their likes and dislikes, and I have a great respect for you, sir. I
+can't tell you the mixture of things I feel when I see you in the same
+box every night. Of course, I am her agent, and the house would not be
+complete without you; but as a man I am sorry. Especially now that she
+has let him into her house. Take a humble friend's advice, sir, and cut
+it. Don't you come between any woman and her husband, especially a public
+lady. She will never be more to you than she is. She is a good woman, and
+he must keep gaining ground. He has got the pull. Rouse all your pride,
+sir, and your manhood, and you have got plenty of both, and cut it; don't
+look right nor left, but cut it--and forgive my presumption."
+
+Vizard was greatly moved. "Give me your hand," he said; "you are a worthy
+man. I'll act on your advice, and never forget what I owe you. Stick to
+me like a leech, and see me off by the next train, for I am going to tear
+my heart out of my bosom."
+
+Luckily there was a train in half an hour, and Ashmead saw him off; then
+went to supper. He did not return to Ina's lodgings. He did not want to
+see Severne nursed. He liked the fellow, too; but he saw through him
+clean; and he worshiped Ina Klosking.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+AT one o'clock next day, Ashmead received a note from Mademoiselle
+Klosking, saying, "Arrange with Mr. X----to close my tour with
+Manchester. Pay the fortnight, if required." She was with the company at
+a month's notice on either side, you must understand.
+
+Instead of going to the manager, he went at once, in utter dismay, to
+Mademoiselle Klosking, and there learned in substance what I must now
+briefly relate.
+
+Miss Gale found Edward Severne deposited on a sofa. Ina was on her knees
+by his side, sponging his bleeding temple, with looks of gentle pity.
+Strange to say, the wound was in the same place as his wife's, but more
+contused, and no large vein was divided. Miss Gale soon stanched that.
+She asked him where his pain was. He said it was in his head and his
+back; and he cast a haggard, anxious look on her.
+
+"Take my arm," said she. "Now, stand up."
+
+He tried, but could not, and said his legs were benumbed. Miss Gale
+looked grave.
+
+"Lay him on my bed," said La Klosking. "That is better than these hard
+couches."
+
+"You are right," said Miss Gale. "Ring for the servants. He must be moved
+gently."
+
+He was carried in, and set upon the edge of the bed, and his coat and
+waistcoat taken off. Then he was laid gently down on the bed, and covered
+with a down quilt.
+
+Doctress Gale then requested Ina to leave the room, while she questioned
+the patient.
+
+Ina retired. In a moment or two Miss Gale came out to her softly.
+
+At sight of her face, La Klosking said, "Oh, dear; it is more serious
+than we thought."
+
+"Very serious.
+
+"Poor Edward!"
+
+"Collect all your courage, for I cannot lie, either to patient or
+friend."
+
+"And you are right," said La Klosking, trembling. "I see he is in
+danger."
+
+"Worse than that. Where there's danger there is hope. Here there is none.
+HE IS A DEAD MAN!"
+
+"Oh, no! no!"
+
+"He has broken his back, and nothing can save him. His lower limbs have
+already lost sensation. Death will creep over the rest. Do not disturb
+your mind with idle hopes. You have two things to thank God for--that you
+took him into your own house, and that he will die easily. Indeed, were
+he to suffer, I should stupefy him at once, for nothing can _hurt_ him."
+
+Ina Klosking turned faint and her knees gave way under her. Rhoda
+ministered to her; and while she was so employed, Dr. Menteith was
+announced. He was shown in to the patient, and the accident described to
+him. He questioned the patient, and examined him alone.
+
+He then came out, and said he would draw a prescription. He did so.
+
+"Doctor," said La Klosking, "tell me the truth. It cannot be worse than I
+fear."
+
+"Madam," said the doctor, "medicine can do nothing for him. The spinal
+cord is divided. Give him anything he fancies, and my prescription if he
+suffers pain, not otherwise. Shall I send you a nurse?"
+
+"No," said Mademoiselle Klosking, _"we_ will nurse him night and day."
+
+He retired, and the friends entered on their sad duties.
+
+When Severne saw them both by his bedside, with earnest looks of pity, he
+said, "Do not worry yourselves. I'm booked for the long journey. Ah,
+well, I shall die where I ought to have lived, and might have, if I had
+not been a fool."
+
+Ina wept bitterly.
+
+They nursed him night and day. He suffered little, and when he did, Miss
+Gale stupefied the pain at once; for, as she truly said, "Nothing can
+hurt him." Vitality gradually retired to his head, and lingered there a
+whole day. But, to his last moment, the art of pleasing never abandoned
+him. Instead of worrying for this or that every moment, he showed in this
+desperate condition singular patience and well-bred fortitude. He checked
+his wife's tears; assured her it was all for the best, and that he was
+reconciled to the inevitable. "I have had a happier time than I deserve,"
+said he, "and now I have a painless death, nursed by two sweet women. My
+only regret is that I shall not be able to repay your devotion, Ina, nor
+become worthy of your friendship, Miss Gale."
+
+He died without fear, it being his conviction that he should return after
+death to the precise condition in which he was before birth; and when
+they begged him to see a clergyman, he said, "Pray do not give yourselves
+or him that trouble. I can melt back into the universe without his
+assistance."
+
+He even died content; for this polished Bohemian had often foreseen that,
+if he lived long, he should die miserably.
+
+But the main feature of his end was his extraordinary politeness. He paid
+Miss Gale compliments just as if he were at his ease on a sofa: and
+scarce an hour before his decease he said, faintly, "I declare--I have
+been so busy--dying--I have forgotten to send my kind regards to good Mr.
+Ashmead. Pray tell him I did not forget his kindness to me."
+
+He just ceased to live, so quiet was his death, and a smile rested on his
+dead features, and they were as beautiful as ever.
+
+So ended a fair, pernicious creature, endowed too richly with the art of
+pleasing, and quite devoid of principle. Few bad men knew right so well,
+and went so wrong. Ina buried her face for hours on his bed, and kissed
+his cold features and hand. She had told him before he died she would
+recall all her resolutions, if he would live. But he was gone. Death
+buries a man's many faults, and his few virtues rise again. She mourned
+him sincerely, and would not be comforted; she purchased a burying place
+forever, and laid him in it; then she took her aching heart far away, and
+was lost to the public and to all her English friends.
+
+
+The faithful Rhoda accompanied her half way to London; then returned to
+her own duties in Barfordshire.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+I MUST now retrograde a little to relate something rather curious, and I
+hope not uninteresting.
+
+Zoe Vizard had been for some time acting on Mrs. Gale's advice; building,
+planning for the good of the poor, and going out of herself more and
+more. She compared notes constantly with Miss Gale, and conceived a
+friendship for her. It had been a long time coming, because at first she
+disliked Miss Gale's manners very much. But that lady had nursed her
+tenderly, and now advised her, and Zoe, who could not do anything by
+halves, became devoted to her.
+
+As she warmed to her good work, she gave signs of clearer judgment. She
+never mentioned Severne; but she no longer absolutely avoided Ina
+Klosking's name; and one day she spoke of her as a high-principled
+woman; for which the Gale kissed her on the spot.
+
+One name she often uttered, and always with regret and
+self-reproach--Lord Uxmoor's. I think that, now she was herself building
+and planning for the permanent improvement of the poor, she felt the tie
+of a kindred sentiment. Uxmoor was her predecessor in this good work,
+too; and would have been her associate, if she had not been so blind.
+This thought struck deep in her. Her mind ran more and more on Uxmoor,
+his manliness, his courage in her defense, and his gentlemanly fortitude
+and bravery in leaving her, without a word, at her request. Running over
+all these, she often blushed with shame, and her eyes filled with sorrow
+at thinking of how she had treated him; and lost him forever by not
+deserving him.
+
+She even made oblique and timid inquiries, but could learn nothing of
+him, except that he sent periodical remittances to Miss Gale, for
+managing his improvements. These, however, came in through a country
+agent from a town agent, and left no clew.
+
+But one fine day, with no warning except to his own people, Lord Uxmoor
+came home; and the next day rode to Hillstoke to talk matters over with
+Miss Gale. He was fortunate enough to find her at home. He thanked her
+for the zeal and enthusiasm she had shown, and the progress his works had
+made under her supervision.
+
+He was going away without even mentioning the Vizard family.
+
+But the crafty Gale detained him. "Going to Vizard Court?" said she.
+
+"No," said he, very dryly.
+
+"Ah, I understand; but perhaps you would not mind going with me as far as
+Islip. There is something there I wish you to see."
+
+"Humph? Is it anything very particular? Because--"
+
+"It is. Three cottages rising, with little flower gardens in front.
+Square plots behind, and arrangements for breeding calves, with other
+ingenious novelties. A new head come into our business, my lord."
+
+"You have converted Vizard? I thought you would. He is a satirical
+fellow, but he will listen to reason."
+
+"No, it is not Mr. Vizard; indeed, it is no convert of mine. It is an
+independent enthusiast. But I really believe your work at home had some
+hand in firing her enthusiasm."
+
+"A lady! Do I know her?"
+
+"You may. I suppose you know everybody in Barfordshire. Will you come?
+Do!"
+
+"Of course I will come, Miss Gale. Please tell one of your people to walk
+my horse down after us."
+
+She had her hat on in a moment, and walked him down to Islip.
+
+Her tongue was not idle on the road. "You don't ask after the people,"
+said she. "There's poor Miss Vizard. She had a sad illness. We were
+almost afraid we should lose her."
+
+"Heaven forbid!" said Uxmoor, startled by this sudden news.
+
+"Mademoiselle Klosking got quite well; and oh! what do you think? Mr.
+Severne turned out to be her husband."
+
+"What is that?" shouted Uxmoor, and stopped dead short. "Mr. Severne a
+married man!"
+
+"Yes; and Mademoiselle Klosking a married woman."
+
+"You amaze me. Why, that Mr. Severne was paying his attentions to Miss
+Vizard."
+
+"So I used to fancy," said Rhoda carelessly. "But you see it came out he
+was married, and so of course she packed him off with a flea in his ear."
+
+"Did she? When was that?"
+
+"Let me see, it was the 17th of October."
+
+"Why, that was the very day I left England."
+
+"How odd! Why did you not stay another week? Gentlemen are so impatient.
+Never mind, that is an old story now. Here we are; those are the
+cottages. The workmen are at dinner. Ten to one the enthusiast is there:
+this is her time. You stay here. I'll go and see."
+
+She went off on tiptoe, and peeped and pried here and there, like a young
+witch. Presently she took a few steps toward him, with her finger
+mysteriously to her lips, and beckoned him. He entered into the
+pantomime--she seemed so earnest in it--and came to her softly.
+
+"Do just take a peep in at that opening for a door," said she, "then
+you'll see her; her back is turned. She is lovely; only, you know, she
+has been ill, and I don't think she is very happy."
+
+Uxmoor thought this peeping at enthusiasts rather an odd proceeding, but
+Miss Gale had primed his curiosity, and he felt naturally proud of a
+female pupil. He stepped up lightly, looked in at the door, and, to his
+amazement, saw Zoe Vizard sitting on a carpenter's bench, with her lovely
+head in the sun's rays. He started, then gazed, then devoured her with
+his eyes.
+
+What! was this his pupil?
+
+How gentle and sad she seemed! All his stoicism melted at the sight of
+her. She sat in a sweet, pensive attitude, pale and drooping, but, to his
+fancy, lovelier than ever. She gave a little sigh. His heart yearned. She
+took out a letter, read it slowly, and said, softly and slowly, "Poor
+fellow!" He thought he recognized his own handwriting, and could stand no
+more. He rushed, in, and was going to speak to her; but she screamed, and
+no conjurer ever made a card disappear quicker than she did that letter,
+as she bounded away like a deer, and stood, blushing scarlet, and
+palpitating all over.
+
+Uxmoor was ashamed of his _brusquerie._ "What a brute I am to frighten
+you like this!" said he. "Pray forgive me; but the sight of you, after
+all these weary months--and you said 'Poor fellow!'"
+
+"Did I?" said Zoe, faintly, looking scared.
+
+"Yes, sweet Zoe, and you were reading a letter."
+
+No reply.
+
+"I thought the poor fellow might be myself. Not that I am to be pitied,
+if you think of me still."
+
+"I do, then--very often. Oh, Lord Uxmoor, I want to go down on my knees
+to you."
+
+"That is odd, now; for it is exactly what I should like to do to you."
+
+"What for? It is I who have behaved so ill."
+
+"Never mind that; I love you."
+
+"But you mustn't. You must love some worthy person."
+
+"Oh, you leave that to me. I have no other intention. But may I just see
+whose letter you were reading?"
+
+"Oh, pray don't ask me."
+
+"I insist on knowing."
+
+"I will not tell you. There it is." She gave it to him with a guilty air,
+and hid her face.
+
+"Dear Zoe, suppose I were to repeat the offer I made here?"
+
+"I advise you not," said she, all in a flurry.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because. Because--I might say 'Yes.'"
+
+"Well, then I'll take my chance once more. Zoe, will you try and love
+me?"
+
+"Try? I believe I do love you, or nearly. I think of you very often."
+
+"Then you will do something to make me happy."
+
+"Anything; everything."
+
+"Will you marry me?"
+
+"Yes, that I will," said Zoe, almost impetuously; "and then," with a
+grand look of conscious beauty, "I can _make_ you forgive me."
+
+Uxmoor, on this, caught her in his arms, and kissed her with such fire
+that she uttered a little stifled cry of alarm; but it was soon followed
+by a sigh of complacency, and she sunk, resistless, on his manly breast.
+
+So, after two sieges, he carried that fair citadel by assault.
+
+Then let not the manly heart despair, nor take a mere brace of "Noes"
+from any woman. Nothing short of three negatives is serious.
+
+They walked out in arm-in-arm and very close to each other; and he left
+her, solemnly engaged.
+
+Leaving this pair to the delights of courtship, and growing affection on
+Zoe's side--for a warm attachment of the noblest kind did grow, by
+degrees, out of her penitence, and esteem, and desire to repair her
+fault--I must now take up the other thread of this narrative, and
+apologize for having inverted the order of events; for it was, in
+reality, several days after this happy scene that Mademoiselle Klosking
+sent for Miss Gale.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+VIZARD, then, with Ashmead, returned home in despair; and Zoe, now happy
+in her own mind, was all tenderness and sisterly consolation. They opened
+their hearts to each other, and she showed her wish to repay the debt she
+owed him. How far she might have succeeded, in time, will never be known.
+For he had hardly been home a week, when Miss Gale returned, all in
+black, and told him Severne was dead and buried.
+
+He was startled, and even shocked, remembering old times; but it was not
+in human nature he should be sorry. Not to be indecorously glad at so
+opportune an exit was all that could be expected from him.
+
+When she had given him the details, his first question was, "How did she
+bear it?"
+
+"She is terribly cut up--more than one would think possible; for she was
+ice and marble to him before he was hurt to death."
+
+"Where is she?"
+
+"Gone to London. She will write to me, I suppose--poor dear. But one must
+give her time."
+
+From that hour Vizard was in a state of excitement, hoping to hear from
+Ina Klosking, or about her; but unwilling, from delicacy, to hurry
+matters.
+
+At last he became impatient, and wrote to Ashmead, whose address he had,
+and said, frankly, he had a delicacy in intruding on Mademoiselle
+Klosking, in her grief. Yet his own feelings would not allow him to seem
+to neglect her. Would Mr. Ashmead, then, tell him where she was, as she
+had not written to any one in Barfordshire--not even to her tried friend,
+Miss Gale.
+
+He received an answer by return of post.
+
+
+"DEAR SIR--I am grieved to tell you that Mademoiselle Klosking has
+retired from public life. She wrote to me, three weeks ago, from Dover,
+requesting me to accept, as a token of her esteem, the surplus money I
+hold in hand for her--I always drew her salary--and bidding me farewell.
+The sum included her profits by psalmody, minus her expenses, and was so
+large it could never have been intended as a mere recognition of my
+humble services; and I think I have seldom felt so down-hearted as on
+receiving this princely donation. It has enabled me to take better
+offices, and it may be the foundation of a little fortune; but I feel
+that I have lost the truly great lady who has made a man of me. Sir, the
+relish is gone for my occupation: I can never be so happy as I was in
+working the interests of that great genius, whose voice made our leading
+soprani sound like whistles, and who honored me with her friendship. Sir,
+she was not like other leading ladies. She never bragged, never spoke ill
+of any one; and _you_ can testify to her virtue and her discretion.
+
+"I am truly sorry to learn from you that she has written to no one in
+Barfordshire. I saw, by her letter to me, she had left the stage; but her
+dropping you all looks as if she had left the world. I do hope she has
+not been so mad as to go into one of those cursed convents.
+
+"Mr. Vizard, I will now write to friends in all the Continental towns
+where there is good music. She will not be able to keep away from that
+long. I will also send photographs; and hope we may hear something. If
+not, perhaps a _judicious advertisement_ might remind her that she is
+inflicting pain upon persons to whom she is dear. I am, sir, your obliged
+and grateful servant,
+
+"JOSEPH ASHMEAD."
+
+
+Here was a blow. I really believe Vizard felt this more deeply than all
+his other disappointments.
+
+He brooded over it for a day or two; and then, as he thought Miss Gale a
+very ill-used person, though not, of course, so ill-used as himself, he
+took her Ashmead's letter.
+
+"This is nice!" said she. "There--I must give up loving women. Besides,
+they throw me over the moment a man comes, if it happens to be the right
+one."
+
+"Unnatural creatures!" said Vizard.
+
+"Ungrateful, at all events."
+
+"Do you think she has gone into a convent?"
+
+"Not she. In the first place, she is a Protestant; and, in the second,
+she is not a fool."
+
+"I will advertise."
+
+"The idea!"
+
+"Do you think I am going to sit down with my hands before me, and lose
+her forever?"
+
+"No, indeed; I don't think you are that sort of a man at all, ha! ha!"
+
+"Oh, Miss Gale, pity me. Tell me how to find her. That Fanny Dover says
+women are only enigmas to men; they understand one another."
+
+"What," said Rhoda, turning swiftly on him; "does that little chit
+pretend to read my noble Ina?"
+
+"If she cannot, perhaps you can. You are so shrewd. Do tell me, what does
+it all mean?"
+
+"It means nothing at all, I dare say; only a woman's impulse. They are
+such geese at times, every one of them."
+
+"Oh, if I did but know what country she is in, I would ransack it."
+
+"Hum!--countries are biggish places."
+
+"I don't care."
+
+"What will you give me to tell you where she is at this moment?"
+
+"All I have in the world."
+
+"That is sufficient. Well, then, first assign me your estates; then fetch
+me an ordnance map of creation, and I will put my finger on her."
+
+"You little mocking fiend, you!"
+
+"I am not. I'm a tall, beneficent angel; and I'll tell you where she
+is--for nothing. Keep your land: who wants it?--it is only a bother."
+
+"For pity's sake, don't trifle with me."
+
+"I never will, where your heart is interested. She is at Zutzig."
+
+"Ah, you good girl! She has written to you."
+
+"Not a line, the monster! And I'll serve her out. I'll teach her to play
+hide-and-seek with Gale, M.D.!"
+
+"Zutzig!" said Vizard; "how can you know?"
+
+"What does that matter? Well, yes--I will reveal the mental process.
+First of all, she has gone to her mother."
+
+"How do you know that?"
+
+"Oh, dear, dear, dear! Because that is where every daughter goes in
+trouble. I should--she _has._ Fancy you not seeing that--why, Fanny Dover
+would have told you that much in a moment. But now you will have to thank
+_my_ mother for teaching me Attention, the parent of Memory. Pray, sir,
+who were the witnesses to that abominable marriage of hers?"
+
+"I remember two, Baron Hompesch--"
+
+"No, Count Hompesch."
+
+"And Count Meurice."
+
+"Viscount. What, have you forgotten Herr Formes, Fraulein Graafe, Zug the
+Capellmeister, and her very mother? Come now, whose daughter is she?"
+
+"I forget, I'm sure."
+
+"Walter Ferris and Eva Klosking, of Zutzig, in Denmark. Pack--start for
+Copenhagen. Consult an ordnance map there. Find out Zutzig. Go to Zutzig,
+and you have got her. It is some hole in a wilderness, and she can't
+escape."
+
+"You clever little angel! I'll be there in three days. Do you really
+think I shall succeed?"
+
+"Your own fault if you don't. She has run into a _cul-de-sac_ through
+being too clever; and, besides, women sometimes run away just to be
+caught, and hide on purpose to be found. I should not wonder if she has
+said to herself, 'He will find me if he loves me so very, very much--I'll
+try him.'"
+
+"Not a word more, angelic fox," said Vizard; "I'm off to Zutzig."
+
+He went out on fire. She opened the window and screeched after him,
+"Everything is fair after her behavior to me. Take her a book of those
+spiritual songs she is so fond of. 'Johnny comes marching home,' is worth
+the lot, I reckon."
+
+Away went Vizard; found Copenhagen with ease; Zutzig with difficulty,
+being a small village. But once there, he soon found the farmhouse of Eva
+Klosking. He drove up to the door. A Danish laborer came out from the
+stable directly; and a buxom girl, with pale golden hair, opened the
+door. These two seized his luggage, and conveyed it into the house, and
+the hired vehicle to the stable. Vizard thought it must be an inn.
+
+The girl bubbled melodious sounds, and ran off and brought a sweet,
+venerable name. Vizard recognized Eva Klosking at once. The old lady
+said, "Few strangers come here--are you not English?"
+
+"Yes, madam."
+
+"It is Mr. Vizard--is it not?"
+
+"Yes, madam."
+
+"Ah, sir, my daughter will welcome you, but not more heartily than I do.
+My child has told me all she owes to you"--then in Danish, "God bless the
+hour you come under this roof."
+
+Vizard's heart beat tumultuously, wondering how Ina Klosking would
+receive him. The servant had told her a tall stranger was come. She knew
+in a moment who it was; so she had the advantage of being prepared.
+
+She came to him, her cheeks dyed with blushes, and gave him both hands.
+"You here!" said she; "oh, happy day! Mother, he must have the south
+chamber. I will go and prepare it for him. Tecla!--Tecla!"--and she was
+all hostess. She committed him to her mother, while she and the servant
+went upstairs.
+
+He felt discomfited a little. He wanted to know, all in a moment, whether
+she would love him.
+
+However, Danish hospitality has its good side. He soon found out he might
+live the rest of his days there if he chose.
+
+He soon got her alone, and said, "You knew I should find you, cruel one."
+
+"How could I dream of such a thing?" said she, blushing.
+
+"Oh, Love is a detective. You said to yourself, 'If he loves me as I
+ought to be loved, he will search Europe for me; but he will find me.'"
+
+"Oh, then it was not to be at peace and rest on my mother's bosom I came
+here; it was to give you the trouble of running after me. Oh, fie!"
+
+"You are right. I am a vain fool."
+
+"No, that you are not. After all, how do I know all that was in my heart?
+(Ahem!) Be sure of this, you are very welcome. I must go and see about
+your dinner."
+
+In that Danish farmhouse life was very primitive. Eva Klosking, and both
+her daughters, helped the two female servants, or directed them, in every
+department. So Ina, who was on her defense, had many excuses for escaping
+Vizard, when he pressed her too hotly. But at last she was obliged to
+say, "Oh, pray, my friend--we are in Denmark: here widows are expected to
+be discreet."
+
+"But that is no reason why the English fellows who adore them should be
+discreet."
+
+"Perhaps not: but then the Danish lady runs away."
+
+Which she did.
+
+But, after the bustle of the first day, he had so many opportunities. He
+walked with her, sat with her while she worked, and hung over her,
+entranced, while she sung. He produced the book from Vizard Court without
+warning, and she screamed with delight at sight of it, and caught his
+hand in both hers and kissed it. She reveled in those sweet strains which
+had comforted her in affliction: and oh, the eyes she turned on him after
+singing any song in this particular book! Those tender glances thrilled
+him to the very marrow.
+
+To tell the honest truth, his arrival was a godsend to Ina Klosking. When
+she first came home to her native place, and laid her head on her
+mother's bosom, she was in Elysium. The house, the wood fires, the cooing
+doves, the bleating calves, the primitive life, the recollections of
+childhood--all were balm to her, and she felt like ending her days there.
+But, as the days rolled on, came a sense of monotony and excessive
+tranquillity. She was on the verge of _ennui_ when Vizard broke in upon
+her.
+
+From that moment there was no stagnation. He made life very pleasant to
+her; only her delicacy took the alarm at his open declarations; she
+thought them so premature.
+
+At last he said to her, one day, "I begin to fear you will never love me
+as I love you."
+
+"Who knows?" said she. "Time works wonders."
+
+"I wonder," said he, "whether you will ever marry any other man?"
+
+Ina was shocked at that. "Oh, my friend, how could I--unless," said she,
+with a sly side-glance, "you consented."
+
+"Consent? I'd massacre him."
+
+Ina turned toward him. "You asked my hand at a time when you thought
+me--I don't know what you thought--that is a thing no woman could forget.
+And now you have come all this way for me. I am yours, if you can wait
+for me."
+
+He caught her in his arms. She disengaged herself, gently, and her hand
+rested an unnecessary moment on his shoulder. "Is that how you understand
+'waiting?'" said she, with a blush, but an indulgent smile.
+
+"What is the use waiting?"
+
+"It is a matter of propriety."
+
+"How long are we to wait?"
+
+"Only a few months. My friend, it is like a boy to be too impatient.
+Alas! would you marry me in my widow's cap?"
+
+"Of course I would. Now, Ina, love, a widow who has been two years
+separated from her husband!"
+
+"Certainly, that makes a difference--in one's own mind. But one must
+respect the opinion of the world. Dear friend, it is of you I think,
+though I speak of myself."
+
+"You are an angel. Take your own time. After all, what does it matter? I
+don't leave Zutzig without you."
+
+Ina's pink tint and sparkling eyes betrayed anything but horror at that
+insane resolution. However, she felt it her duty to say that it was
+unfortunate she should always be the person to distract him from his home
+duties.
+
+"Oh, never mind them," said this single-hearted lover. "I have appointed
+Miss Gale viceroy."
+
+However, one day he had a letter from Zoe, telling him that Lord Uxmoor
+was now urging her to name the day; but she had declined to do that, not
+knowing when it might suit him to be at Vizard Court. "But, dearest,"
+said she, "mind, you are not to hurry home for me. I am very happy as I
+am, and I hope you will soon be as happy, love. She is a noble woman."
+
+The latter part of this letter tempted Vizard to show it to Ina. He soon
+found his mistake. She kissed it, and ordered him off. He remonstrated.
+She put on, for the first time in Denmark, her marble look, and said,
+"You will lessen my esteem, if you are cruel to your sister. Let her name
+the wedding-day at once; and you must be there to give her away, and
+bless her union, with a brother's love."
+
+He submitted, but a little sullenly, and said it was very hard.
+
+He wrote to his sister, accordingly, and she named the day, and Vizard
+settled to start for home, and be in time.
+
+As to the proprieties, he had instructed Miss Maitland and Fanny Dover,
+and given them and La Gale _carte blanche._ It was to be a magnificent
+wedding.
+
+This being excitement, Fanny Dover was in paradise. Moreover, a
+rosy-cheeked curate had taken the place of the venerable vicar, and Miss
+Dover's threat to flirt out the stigma of a nun was executed with
+promptitude, zeal, pertinacity, and the dexterity that comes of practice.
+When the day came for his leaving Zutzig, Vizard was dejected. "Who knows
+when we may meet again?" said he.
+
+Ina consoled him. "Do not be sad, dear friend. You are doing your duty;
+and as you do it partly to please me, I ought to try and reward you;
+ought I not?" And she gave him a strange look.
+
+"I advise you not to press that question," said he.
+
+At the very hour of parting, Ina's eyes were moist with tenderness, but
+there was a smile on her face very expressive; yet he could not make out
+what it meant. She did not cry. He thought that hard. It was his opinion
+that women could always cry. She might have done the usual thing just to
+gratify him.
+
+He reached home in good time: and played the _grand seigneur_--nobody
+could do it better when driven to it--to do honor to his sister. She was
+a peerless bride: she stood superior with ebon locks and coal black eyes,
+encircled by six bridemaids--all picked blondes. The bevy, with that
+glorious figure in the middle, seemed one glorious and rare flower.
+
+After the wedding, the breakfast; and then the traveling carriage; the
+four liveried postilions bedecked with favors.
+
+But the bride wept on Vizard's neck; and a light seemed to leave the
+house when she was gone. The carriages kept driving away one after
+another till four o'clock: and then Vizard sat disconsolate in his study,
+and felt very lonely.
+
+Yet a thing no bigger than a leaf sufficed to drive away this somber
+mood, a piece of amber-colored paper scribbled on with a pencil: a
+telegram from Ashmead: "Good news: lost sheep turned up. Is now with her
+mother at Claridge's Hotel."
+
+Then Vizard was in raptures. Now he understood Ina's composure, and the
+half sly look she had given him, and her dry eyes at parting, and other
+things. He tore up to London directly, with a telegram flying ahead:
+burst in upon her, and had her in his arms in a moment, before her
+mother: she fenced no longer, but owned he had gained her love, as he had
+deserved it in every way.
+
+She consented to be married that week in London: only she asked for a
+Continental tour before entering Vizard Court as his wife; but she did
+not stipulate even for that--she only asked it submissively, as one whose
+duty it now was to obey, not dictate.
+
+They were married in St. George's Church very quietly, by special
+license. Then they saw her mother off, and crossed to Calais. They spent
+two happy months together on the Continent, and returned to London.
+
+But Vizard was too old-fashioned, and too proud of his wife, to sneak
+into Vizard Court with her. He did not make it a county matter; but he
+gave the village such a _fete_ as had not been seen for many a day. The
+preparations were intrusted to Mr. Ashmead, at Ina's request. "He will be
+sure to make it theatrical," she said; "but perhaps the simple villagers
+will admire that, and it will amuse you and me, love: and the poor dear
+old Thing will be in his glory--I hope he will not drink too much."
+
+Ashmead was indeed in his glory. Nothing had been seen in a play that he
+did not electrify Islip with, and the surrounding villages. He pasted
+large posters on walls and barn doors, and his small bills curled round
+the patriarchs of the forest and the roadside trees, and blistered the
+gate posts.
+
+The day came. A soapy pole, with a leg of mutton on high for the
+successful climber. Races in sacks. Short blindfold races with
+wheelbarrows. Pig with a greasy tail, to be won by him who could catch
+him and shoulder him, without touching any other part of him; bowls of
+treacle for the boys to duck heads in and fish out coins; skittles, nine
+pins, Aunt Sally, etc., etc., etc.
+
+But what astonished the villagers most was a May-pole, with long ribbons,
+about which ballet girls, undisguised as Highlanders, danced, and wound
+and unwound the party-colored streamers, to the merry fiddle, and then
+danced reels upon a platform, then returned to their little tent: but out
+again and danced hornpipes undisguised as Jacky Tars.
+
+Beer flowed from a sturdy regiment of barrels. "The Court" kitchen and
+the village bakehouse kept pouring forth meats, baked, boiled, and roast;
+there was a pile of loaves like a haystack; and they roasted an ox whole
+on the Green; and, when they found they were burning him raw, they
+fetched the butcher, like sensible fellows, and dismembered the giant,
+and so roasted him reasonably.
+
+In the midst of the reveling and feasting, Vizard and Mrs. Vizard were
+driven into Islip village in the family coach, with four horses streaming
+with ribbons.
+
+They drove round the Green, bowing and smiling in answer to the
+acclamations and blessings of the poor, and then to Vizard Court. The
+great doors flew open. The servants, male and female, lined the hall on
+both sides, and received her bowing and courtesying low, on the very spot
+where she had nearly met her death; her husband took her hand and
+conducted her in state to her own apartment.
+
+It was open house to all that joyful day, and at night magnificent
+fireworks on the sweep, seen from the drawing-room by Mrs. Vizard, Miss
+Maitland, Miss Gale, Miss Dover, and the rosy-cheeked curate, whom she
+had tied to her apron-strings.
+
+At two in the morning, Mr. Harris showed Mr. Ashmead to his couch. Both
+gentlemen went upstairs a little graver than any of our modern judges,
+and firm as a rock; but their firmness resembled that of a roof rather
+than a wall; for these dignities as they went made one inverted V--so, A.
+
+
+It is time the "Woman-hater" drew to a close, for the woman-hater is
+spoiled. He begins sarcastic speeches, from force of habit, but stops
+short in the middle. He is a very happy man, and owes it to a woman, and
+knows it. He adores her; and to love well is to be happy. But, besides
+that, she watches over his happiness and his good with that unobtrusive
+but minute vigilance which belongs to her sex, and is often misapplied,
+but not so very often as cynics say. Even the honest friendship between
+him and the remarkable woman he calls his "viragos" gives him many a
+pleasant hour. He is still a humorist, though cured of his fling at the
+fair sex. His last tolerable hit was at the monosyllabic names of the
+immortal composers his wife had disinterred in his library. Says he to
+parson Denison, hot from Oxford, "They remind me of the Oxford poets in
+the last century:
+
+"Alma novem celebres genuit Rhedyeina poetas. Bubb, Stubb, Grubb, Crabbe,
+Trappe. Brome, Carey, Tickell, Evans."
+
+As for Ina Vizard, La Klosking no longer, she has stepped into her new
+place with her native dignity, seemliness and composure. At first, a few
+county ladies put their little heads together, and prepared to give
+themselves airs; but the beauty, dignity, and enchanting grace of Mrs.
+Vizard swept this little faction away like small dust. Her perfect
+courtesy, her mild but deep dislike of all feminine back-biting, her dead
+silence about the absent, except when she can speak kindly--these rare
+traits have forced, by degrees, the esteem and confidence of her own sex.
+As for the men, they accepted her at once with enthusiasm. She and Lady
+Uxmoor are the acknowledged belles of the county. Lady Uxmoor's face is
+the most admired; but Mrs. Vizard comes next, and her satin shoulders,
+statuesque bust and arms, and exquisite hand, turn the scale with some.
+But when she speaks, she charms; and when she sings, all competition
+dies.
+
+She is faithful to music, and especially to sacred music. She is not very
+fond of singing at parties, and sometimes gives offense by declining.
+Music sets fools talking, because it excites them, and then their folly
+comes out by the road nature has provided. But when Mrs. Vizard has to
+sing in one key, and people talk in five other keys, that gives this
+artist such physical pain that she often declines, merely to escape it.
+It does not much mortify her vanity, she has so little.
+
+She always sings in church, and sings out, too, when she is there; and
+plays the harmonium. She trains the villagers--girls, boys and
+adults--with untiring good humor and patience.
+
+Among her pupils are two fine voices--Tom Wilder, a grand bass, and the
+rosy-cheeked curate, a greater rarity still, a genuine counter-tenor.
+
+These two can both read music tolerably; but the curate used to sing
+everything, however full of joy, with a pathetic whine, for which Vizard
+chaffed him in vain; but Mrs. Vizard persuaded him out of it, where
+argument and satire failed.
+
+People come far and near to hear the hymns at Islip Church, sung in full
+harmony--trebles, tenors, counter-tenor, and bass.
+
+A trait--she allows nothing to be sung in church unrehearsed. The
+rehearsals are on Saturday night, and never shirked, such is the respect
+for "Our Dame." To be sure, "Our Dame" fills the stomachs and wets the
+whistles of her faithful choir on Saturday nights.
+
+On Sunday nights there are performances of sacred music in the great
+dining-hall. But these are rather more ambitious than those in the
+village church. The performers meet on that happy footing of camaraderie
+the fine arts create, the superior respect shown to Mrs. Vizard being
+mainly paid to her as the greater musician. They attack anthems and
+services; and a trio, by the parson, the blacksmith, and "Our Dame," is
+really an extraordinary treat, owing to the great beauty of the voices.
+It is also piquant to hear the female singer constantly six, and often
+ten, notes below the male counter-tenor; but then comes Wilder with his
+diapason, and the harmony is noble; the more so that Mrs. Vizard
+rehearses her pupils in the swell--a figure too little practiced in
+music, and nowhere carried out as she does it.
+
+One night the organist of Barford was there. They sung Kent's service in
+F, and Mrs. Vizard still admired it. She and the parson swelled in the
+duet, "To be a Light to lighten the Gentiles," etc. Organist approved the
+execution, but said the composition was a meager thing, quite out of
+date. "We have much finer things now by learned men of the day."
+
+"Ah," said she, "bring me one."
+
+So, next Sunday, he brought her a learned composition, and played it to
+her, preliminary to their singing it. But she declined it on the spot.
+"What!" said she. "Mr. X., would you compare this meaningless stuff with
+Kent in F? Why, in Kent, the dominant sentiment of each composition is
+admirably preserved. His 'Magnificat' is lofty jubilation, with a free,
+onward rush. His 'Dimittis' is divine repose after life's fever. But this
+poor pedant's 'Magnificat' begins with a mere crash, and then falls into
+the pathetic--an excellent thing in its place, but not in a song of
+triumph. As to his 'Dimittis,' it simply defies the words. This is no
+Christian sunset. It is not good old Simeon gently declining to his rest,
+content to close those eyes which had seen the world's salvation. This is
+a tempest, and all the windows rattling, and the great Napoleon dying,
+amid the fury of the elements, with 'te'te d'arme'e!' on his dying lips,
+and 'battle' in his expiring soul. No, sir; if the learned Englishmen of
+this day can do nothing nearer the mark than DOLEFUL MAGNIFICATS and
+STORMY NUNC DIMITTISES, I shall stand faithful to poor dead Kent, and his
+fellows--they were my solace in sickness and sore trouble."
+
+In accordance with these views of vocal music, and desirous to expand its
+sphere, Mrs. Vizard has just offered handsome prizes in the county for
+the best service, in which the dominant sentiment of the words shall be
+as well preserved as in Kent's despised service; and another prize to
+whoever can set any famous short secular poem, or poetical passage (not
+in ballad meter), to good and appropriate music.
+
+This has elicited several pieces. The composers have tried their hands on
+Dryden's Ode; on the meeting of Hector and Andromache (Pope's "Homer");
+on two short poems of Tennyson; etc., etc.
+
+But it is only the beginning of a good thing. The pieces, are under
+consideration. Vizard says the competitors are trifiers. _He_ shall set
+Mr. Arnold's version of "Hero and Leander" to the harp, and sing it
+himself. This, he intimates, will silence competition and prove an era. I
+think so too, if his music should _happen_ to equal the lines in value.
+But I hardly think it will, because the said Vizard, though he has taste
+and ear, does not know one note from another. So I hope "Hero and
+Leander" will fall into abler hands; and in any case, I trust Mrs. Vizard
+will succeed in her worthy desire to enlarge, very greatly, the sphere
+and the nobility of vocal music. It is a desire worthy of this remarkable
+character, of whom I now take my leave with regret.
+
+I must own that regret is caused in part by my fear that I may not have
+done her all the justice I desired.
+
+I have long felt and regretted that many able female writers are doing
+much to perpetuate the petty vices of a sex, which, after all, is at
+present but half educated, by devoting three thick volumes to such empty
+women as Biography, though a lower art than Fiction, would not waste
+three pages on. They plead truth and fidelity to nature. "We write the
+average woman, for the average woman to read," say they. But they are not
+consistent; for the average woman is under five feet, and rather ugly.
+Now these paltry women are all beautiful--[Greek], as Homer hath it.
+
+Fiction has just as much right to select large female souls as Biography
+or Painting has; and to pick out a selfish, shallow, illiterate creature,
+with nothing but beauty, and bestow three enormous volumes on her, is to
+make a perverse selection, beauty being, after all, rarer in women than
+wit, sense, and goodness. It is as false and ignoble in art, as to marry
+a pretty face without heart and brains is silly in conduct.
+
+Besides, it gives the female _reader_ a low model instead of a high one,
+and so does her a little harm; whereas a writer ought to do good--or try,
+at all events.
+
+Having all this in my mind, and remembering how many noble women have
+shone like stars in every age and every land, and feeling sure that, as
+civilization advances, such women will become far more common, I have
+tried to look ahead and paint La Klosking.
+
+But such portraiture is difficult. It is like writing a statue.
+
+"Qui mihi non credit faciat licet ipse periclum, Mox fuerit studis
+aequior ille meis."
+
+Harrington Vizard, Esq., caught Miss Fanny Dover on the top round but one
+of the steps of his library. She looked down, pinkish, and said she was
+searching for "Tillotson's Sermons."
+
+"What on earth can you want of them?"
+
+"To improve my mind, to be sure," said the minx.
+
+Vizard said, "Now you stay there, miss--don't you move;" and he sent for
+Ina. She came directly, and he said, "Things have come to a climax. My
+lady is hunting for 'Tillotson's Sermons.' Poor Denison!" (That was the
+rosy curate's name.)
+
+"Well," said Fanny, turning red, "I told you I _should._ Why should I be
+good any longer? All the sick are cured one way or other, and I am myself
+again."
+
+"Humph!" said Vizard. "Unfortunately for your little plans of conduct,
+the heads of this establishment, here present, have sat in secret
+committee, and your wings are to be clipped--by order of council."
+
+"La!" said Fanny, pertly.
+
+Vizard imposed silence with a lordly wave. "It is a laughable thing; but
+this divine is in earnest. He has revealed his hopes and fears to me."
+
+"Then he is a great baby," said Fanny, coming down the steps. "No, no; we
+are both too poor." And she vented a little sigh.
+
+"Not you. The vicar has written to vacate. Now, I don't like you much,
+because you never make me laugh; but I'm awfully fond of Denison; and, if
+you will marry my dear Denison, you shall have the vicarage; it is a fat
+one."
+
+"Oh, cousin!"
+
+"And," said Mrs. Vizard, "he permits me to furnish it for you. You and I
+will make it 'a bijou.'"
+
+Fanny kissed them both, impetuously: then said she would have a little
+cry. No sooner said than done. In due course she was Mrs. Denison, and
+broke a solemn vow that she never would teach girls St. Matthew.
+
+ Like coquettes in general, who have had their fling at the proper time,
+she makes a pretty good wife; but she has one fault--she is too hard upon
+girls who flirt.
+
+ Mr. Ashmead flourishes. Besides his agency she sometimes treats for a
+new piece, collects a little company, and tours the provincial theaters.
+He always plays them a week at Taddington, and with perfect gravity loses
+six pounds per night. Then he has a "bespeak," Vizard or Uxmoor turn
+about. There is a line of carriages; the snobs crowd in to see the
+gentry. Vizard pays twenty pounds for his box, and takes twenty pounds'
+worth of tickets, and Joseph is in his glory, and stays behind the
+company to go to Islip Church next day, and spend a happy night at the
+Court. After that he says he feels _good_ for three or four days.
+
+Mrs. Gale now leases the Hillstoke farm of Vizard, and does pretty well.
+She breeds a great many sheep and cattle. The high ground and sheltering
+woods suit them. She makes a little money every year, and gets a very
+good house for nothing. Doctress Gale is still all eyes, and notices
+everything. She studies hard, and practices a little. They tried to keep
+her out of the Taddington infirmary; but she went, almost crying, to
+Vizard, and he exploded with wrath. He consulted Lord Uxmoor, and between
+them the infirmary was threatened with the withdrawal of eighty annual
+subscriptions if they persisted. The managers caved directly, and
+Doctress Gale is a steady visitor.
+
+A few mothers are coming to their senses and sending for her to their
+unmarried daughters. This is the main source of her professional income.
+She has, however, taken one enormous fee from a bon vivant, whose life
+she saved by esculents. She told him at once he was beyond the reach of
+medicine, and she could do nothing for him unless he chose to live in her
+house, and eat and drink only what she should give him. He had a horror
+of dying, though he had lived so well; so he submitted, and she did
+actually cure that one glutton. But she says she will never do it again.
+"After forty years of made dishes they ought to be content to die; it is
+bare justice," quoth Rhoda Gale, M.D.
+
+An apothecary in Barford threatened to indict this Gallic physician. But
+the other medical men dissuaded him, partly from liberality, partly from
+discretion: the fine would have been paid by public subscription twenty
+times over and nothing gained but obloquy. The doctress would never have
+yielded.
+
+She visits, and prescribes, and laughs at the law, as love is said to
+laugh at locksmiths.
+
+To be sure, in this country, a law is no law, when it has no foundation
+in justice, morality, or public policy.
+
+Happy in her position, and in her friends, she now reviews past events
+with the candor of a mind that loves truth sincerely. She went into
+Vizard's study one day, folded her arms, and delivered herself as
+follows: "I guess there's something I ought to say to you. When I told
+you about our treatment at Edinburgh, the wound still bled, and I did not
+measure my words as I ought, professing science. Now I feel a call to say
+that the Edinburgh school was, after all, more liberal to us than any
+other in Great Britain or Ireland. The others closed the door in our
+faces. This school opened it half. At first there was a liberal spirit;
+but the friends of justice got frightened, and the unionists stronger. We
+were overpowered at every turn. But what I omitted to impress on you, is,
+that when we were defeated, it was always by very small majorities. That
+was so even with the opinions of the judges, which have been delivered
+since I told you my tale. There were six jurists, and only seven
+pettifoggers. It was so all through. Now, for practical purposes, the act
+of a majority is the act of a body. It must be so. It is the way of the
+world: but when an accurate person comes to describe a business, and deal
+with the character of a whole university, she is not to call the larger
+half the whole, and make the matter worse than it was. That is not
+scientific. Science discriminates."
+
+I am not sorry the doctress offered this little explanation; it accords
+with her sober mind and her veneration of truth. But I could have
+dispensed with it for one. In Britain, when we are hurt, we howl; and the
+deuce is in it if the weak may not howl when the strong overpower them by
+the arts of the weak.
+
+Should that part of my tale rouse any honest sympathy with this English
+woman who can legally prescribe, consult, and take fees, in France, but
+not in England, though she could eclipse at a public examination
+nine-tenths of those who can, it may be as well to inform them that, even
+while her narrative was in the press, our Government declared it would do
+something for the relief of medical women, but would sleep upon it.
+
+This is, on the whole, encouraging. But still, where there is no stimulus
+of faction or personal interest to urge a measure, but only such
+"unconsidered trifles" as public justice and public policy, there are
+always two great dangers: 1. That the sleep may know no waking; 2. That
+after too long a sleep the British legislator may jump out of bed all in
+a hurry, and do the work ineffectually; for nothing leads oftener to
+reckless haste than long delay.
+
+I hope, then, that a few of my influential readers will be vigilant, and
+challenge a full discussion by the whole mind of Parliament, so that no
+temporary, pettifogging half-measure may slip into a thin house--like a
+weasel into an empty barn--and so obstruct for many years legislation
+upon durable principle. The thing lies in a nutshell. The Legislature has
+been entrapped. It never intended to outlaw women in the matter. The
+persons who have outlawed them are all subjects, and the engines of
+outlawry have been "certificates of attendance on lectures," and "public
+examinations." By closing the lecture room and the examination hall to
+all women--learned or unlearned--a clique has outlawed a population,
+under the letter, not the spirit, of a badly written statute. But it is
+for the three estates of the British realm to leave off scribbling
+statutes, and learn to write them, and to bridle the egotism of cliques,
+and respect the nation. The present form of government exists on that
+understanding, and so must all forms of government in England. And it is
+so easy. It only wants a little singleness of mind and common sense.
+Years ago certificates of attendance on various lectures were reasonably
+demanded. They were a slight presumptive evidence of proficiency, and had
+a supplementary value, because the public examinations were so loose and
+inadequate; but once establish a stiff, searching, sufficient,
+incorruptible, public examination, and then to have passed that
+examination is not presumptive, but demonstrative, proof of proficiency,
+and swallows up all minor and merely presumptive proofs.
+
+There is nothing much stupider than anachronism. What avail certificates
+of lectures in our day? either the knowledge obtained at the lectures
+enables the pupil to pass the great examination, or it does not. If it
+does, the certificate is superfluous; if it does not, the certificate is
+illusory.
+
+What the British legislator, if for once he would rise to be a lawgiver,
+should do, and that quickly, is to throw open the medical schools to all
+persons for matriculation. To throw open all hospitals and infirmaries to
+matriculated students, without respect of sex, as they are already open,
+by shameless partiality and transparent greed, to unmatriculated women,
+provided they confine their ambition to the most repulsive and unfeminine
+part of medicine, the nursing of both sexes, and laying out of corpses.
+
+Both the above rights, as independent of sex as other natural rights,
+should be expressly protected by "mandamus," and "suit for damages." The
+lecturers to be compelled to lecture to mixed classes, or to give
+separate lectures to matriculated women for half fees, whichever those
+lecturers prefer. Before this clause all difficulties would melt, like
+hail in the dog days. Male modesty is a purely imaginary article, set up
+for a trade purpose, and will give way to justice the moment it costs the
+proprietors fifty per cent. I know my own sex from hair to heel, and will
+take my Bible oath of _that._
+
+Of the foreign matriculated student, British or European, nothing should
+be demanded but the one thing, which matters one straw--viz., infallible
+proofs of proficiency in anatomy, surgery, medicine, and its collaterals,
+under public examination. This, which is the only real safeguard, and the
+only necessary safeguard to the public, and the only one _the public_
+ask, should be placed, in some degree, under _the sure control of
+Government_ without respect of cities; and much greater vigilance
+exercised than ever has been yet. Why, under the system which excludes
+learned women, male dunces have been personated by able students, and so
+diplomas stolen again and again. The student, male or female, should have
+power to compel the examiners, by mandamus and other stringent remedies,
+to examine at fit times and seasons. In all the _paper work_ of these
+examinations, the name, and of course the sex, of the student should be
+concealed from the examiners. There is a very simple way of doing it.
+
+Should a law be passed on this broad and simple basis, that law will
+stand immortal, with pettifogging acts falling all around, according to
+the custom of the country. The larger half of the population will no
+longer be unconstitutionally juggled, under cover of law, out of their
+right to take their secret ailments to a skilled physician of their own
+sex, and compelled to go, blushing, writhing, and, after all, concealing
+and fibbing, to a male physician; the picked few no longer robbed of
+their right to science, reputation, and Bread.
+
+The good effect on the whole mind of woman would be incalculable. Great
+prizes of study and genius offered to the able few have always a salutary
+and wonderful operation on the many who never gain them; it would be
+great and glad tidings to our whole female youth to say, "You need not be
+frivolous idlers; you need not give the colts fifty yards' start for the
+Derby--I mean, you need not waste three hours of the short working day in
+dressing and undressing, and combing your hair. You need not throw away
+the very seed--time of life on music, though you are unmusical to the
+backbone; nor yet on your three 'C's'--croquet, crochet, and coquetry: for
+Civilization and sound Law have opened to you one great, noble, and
+difficult profession with three branches, two of which Nature intended
+you for. The path is arduous, but flowers grow beside it, and the prize
+is great."
+
+I say that this prize, and frequent intercourse with those superior women
+who have won it, would leaven the whole sex with higher views of life
+than enter their heads at present; would raise their self-respect, and
+set thousands of them to study the great and noble things that are in
+medicine, and connected with it, instead of childish things.
+
+Is there really one manly heart that would grudge this boon to a sex
+which is the nurse and benefactress of every man in his tender and most
+precarious years?
+
+Realize the hard condition of women. Among barbarians their lot is
+unmixed misery; with us their condition is better, but not what it ought
+to be, because we are but half civilized, and so their lot is still very
+unhappy compared with ours.
+
+And we are so unreasonable. We men cannot go straight ten yards without
+_rewards_ as well as punishments. Yet we could govern our women by
+punishments alone. They are eternally tempted to folly, yet snubbed the
+moment they would be wise. A million shops spread their nets, and entice
+them by their direst foible. Their very mothers--for want of medical
+knowledge in the sex--clasp the fatal, idiotic corset on their growing
+bodies, though thin as a lath. So the girl grows up, crippled in the ribs
+and lungs by her own mother; and her life, too, is in stays--cabined,
+cribbed, confined: unless she can paint, or act, or write novels, every
+path of honorable ambition is closed to her. We treat her as we do our
+private soldiers--the lash, but no promotion; and our private soldiers
+are the scum of Europe for that very reason, and no other.
+
+I say that to open the study and practice of medicine to women folk,
+under the infallible safeguard of a stiff public examination, will be to
+rise in respect for human rights to the level of European nations, who do
+not brag about just freedom half as loud as we do, and to respect the
+constitutional rights of many million citizens, who all pay the taxes
+like men, and, by the contract with the State implied in that payment,
+buy the clear human right they have yet to go down on their knees for. It
+will also import into medical science a new and less theoretical, but
+cautious, teachable, observant kind of intellect; it will give the larger
+half of the nation an honorable ambition, and an honorable pursuit,
+toward which their hearts and instincts are bent by Nature herself; it
+will tend to elevate this whole sex, and its young children, male as well
+as female, and so will advance the civilization of the world, which in
+ages past, in our own day, and in all time, hath, and doth, and will,
+keep step exactly with the progress of women toward mental equality
+with men.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Woman-Hater, by Charles Reade
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