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diff --git a/3669-h/3669-h.htm b/3669-h/3669-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5d3fcd7 --- /dev/null +++ b/3669-h/3669-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,23798 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + 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%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<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> + “THE Golden Star,” 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—her father English. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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—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, “I will wait for the + <i>table-d'hote.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “The <i>table-d'hote!</i> It wants four hours to that.” + </p> + <p> + The lady looked Karl full in the face, and said, slowly, and very + distinctly, “Then, I—will—wait—four—hours.” + </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, “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. + </p> + <p> + “It is!” cried Ashmead. “It is!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Ashmead,” said the lady, coloring a little, but in pure English, + and with a composure not easily disturbed; “it is Ina Klosking.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ashmead!” + </p> + <p> + “You can't deny it. You know you were.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That seems a reasonable division,” said Ina, naively. “But” + (apologetically) “he was jealous.” + </p> + <p> + “Jealous!—more shame for him. I'm sure no lady in public life was + ever more discreet.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; he was only jealous of the public.” + </p> + <p> + “And what had the poor public done?” + </p> + <p> + “Absorbed me, he said.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but rehearsals!—and—embracing the tenor.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but only on the stage?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Ashmead, where else does one embrace the tenor?” + </p> + <p> + “And was that a grievance? Why, I'd embrace fifty tenors—if I was + paid proportionable.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but he said I embraced one poor stick, with a fervor—an <i>abandon</i>—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.” + </p> + <p> + “And turn him to a counter-tenor—make him squeak.” + </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, “But there—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.” + </p> + <p> + Ina stared at him, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not even in my power to do that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see. I'm not good enough for him,” said Ashmead, bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “You do yourself injustice, and him too,” said Ina, courteously. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then?” + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” said she, deprecatingly, “he is not here.” + </p> + <p> + “Not here? That is odd. Well, then, you will be dull till he comes back. + Come without him; at all events, to the opera.” + </p> + <p> + She turned her tortured eyes away. “I have not the heart.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Ashmead looked at her with amazement and incredulity. “Deserted!” said he, + faintly. “You—deserted!!!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said she, “deserted; but perhaps not forever.” Her noble eyes + filled to the brim, and two tears stood ready to run over. + </p> + <p> + “Why, the man must be an idiot!” shouted Ashmead. + </p> + <p> + “Hush! not so loud. That waiter is listening: let me come to your table.” + </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. “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't say a word,” said Ashmead, submissively; “so tell me all.” + </p> + <p> + Ina reflected a moment, and then told her tale. Dealing now with longer + sentences, she betrayed her foreign half. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “One word: is there another woman?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Ashmead suppressed all signs of ill-temper, and asked, grimly, “Did he + quarrel with you, then?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor soul! How could a man have the heart to leave you? how could he have + the face?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “D—n him! Heartless, sentimental scoundrel! D—n + him! D—n him!” + </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, “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </p> + <p> + “And so I will, you may be sure of that,” said Ashmead, eagerly. “What is + the business?” + </p> + <p> + “The business is to find him. That is the first thing.” + </p> + <p> + “But he is in England.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; that was eight months ago. He could not stay eight months in any + country; besides, there are no gambling-houses there.” + </p> + <p> + “And have you been eight months searching Europe for this madman?” + </p> + <p> + “No. At first pride and anger were strong, and I said, 'Here I stay till + he comes back to me and to his senses.'” + </p> + <p> + “Brava!” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “You took leave of yours, and came out on a wild-goose chase,” said + Ashmead, but too regretfully to affront her. + </p> + <p> + “It <i>was,”</i> said Ina; “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.” + </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, “You are quite right; you can't do this sort of + thing yourself; you want an agent.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I do.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Swell!” said the Anglo-Dane, puzzled. “Not that I am aware of.” She was + strictly on her guard against vituperation of her beloved scamp. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh, pooh!” said Ashmead; “of course he is, and not the sort to lodge in + Homburg.” + </p> + <p> + “Then behold my incompetence!” said Ina. + </p> + <p> + “But <i>the</i> place to look for him is the gambling-saloon. Been there?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you must.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Me! Alone?” + </p> + <p> + “No; with your agent.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my friend; I said you would find him.” + </p> + <p> + “What a woman! She will have it he is in Homburg. And suppose we do find + him, and you should not be welcome?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not be unwelcome. <i>I shall be a change.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell you how to draw him to Homburg, wherever he is?” said + Ashmead, very demurely. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, tell me that.” + </p> + <p> + “And do <i>me</i> a good turn into the bargain.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible? Can I be so fortunate?” + </p> + <p> + “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—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—as he + will.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; but what am I to do for <i>you?”</i> asked Ina, getting a + little uneasy and suspicious. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is all, is it?” said Ina, panting a little, and turning two + great, reproachful eyes on him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Ina, “this is <i>driving</i> me into your net.” + </p> + <p> + “I own it,” said Joseph, cheerfully; “I'm quite unscrupulous, because I + know you will thank me afterward.” + </p> + <p> + “The very idea of going back to the stage makes me tremble,” said Ina. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the part?” + </p> + <p> + “One you know—Siebel in 'Faust,' with two new songs.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, I do not know it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, everybody knows it.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean everybody has heard it sung. I know neither the music nor the + words, and I cannot sing incorrectly even for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you can master the airs in a day, and the cackle in half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Borrow you the score! Ah! that shows the school you were bred in. I gaze + at you with admiration.” + </p> + <p> + “Then please don't, for we have not a moment to waste. You have terrified + me out of my senses. Fly!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but before I fly, there is something to be settled—salary!” + </p> + <p> + “As much as they will give.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course; but give me a hint.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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—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, “Two months! I never dreamed of such a thing.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Now,” said she, turning fretful, “I want a piano.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall have one,” said he coaxingly. He went to the landlord and + inquired if there was a piano in the house. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is one,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “And it is mine,” said a sharp female voice. + </p> + <p> + “May I beg the use of it?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the lady, a tall, bony spinster. “I cannot have it strummed on + and put out of tune by everybody.” + </p> + <p> + “But this is not everybody. The lady I want it for is a professional + musician. Top of the tree.” + </p> + <p> + “The hardest strummers going.” + </p> + <p> + “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> + “But [grimly] she need not have mine. + </p> + <p> + “Then she must leave the hotel.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh [haughtily], <i>that</i> is as she pleases.” + </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, “Take me to + her.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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, + “No, madam, you are polite. I must risk my poor piano. Be pleased to come + with me.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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, “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. + </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. “Take my piano,” she + sobbed, “for you have taken the heart out of my body.” + </p> + <p> + Ina returned her embrace, and did not conceal her pleasure. “I am very + proud of such a conquest,” 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> + “The Flute was not at rehearsal, sir,” said she, severely, “nor the Oboe, + nor the Violoncello.” + </p> + <p> + “Just like 'em,” said Ashmead, tranquilly. + </p> + <p> + “The tenor is a quavering stick. He is one of those who think that an + unmanly trembling of the voice represents every manly passion.” + </p> + <p> + “Their name is legion.” + </p> + <p> + “The soprano is insipid. And they are all imperfect—contentedly + imperfect, How can people sing incorrectly? It is like lying.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what makes it so common—he! he!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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—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. + </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—qualities that often enable a poor girl to + conquer landed estates, with their male incumbrances. + </p> + <p> + 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 <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—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—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. “Dear me, Mr. + Severne,” said she, “you do nothing but pay compliments.” + </p> + <p> + “How can I help it, sitting here?” inquired he. + </p> + <p> + “There—there,” said she: then, quietly, “Does it never occur to you + that only foolish people are pleased with flatteries?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That is far from proving your wisdom,” said Zoe; “and, instead of + dwelling on my perfections, which do not exist, I wish you would <i>tell</i> + me things.” + </p> + <p> + “What things?” + </p> + <p> + “How can I tell till I hear them? Well, then, things about yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a poor subject.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me be the judge.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there are lots of fellows who are always talking about themselves: + let me be an exception.” + </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, “Set + a poor fellow an example. Tell me something about <i>yourself—</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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>all</i> of them—” he hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, Mr. Severne; not all of them what?” said Zoe, prepared to stand up + for her sex. + </p> + <p> + “Not perfect?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak, dread queen; thy servant heareth.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! ha! Mr. Severne, you amuse <i>me.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “You only interest <i>me,”</i> was the soft reply. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “You wanted to see the statues of your ancestors, and shame them.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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, “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Happy girl!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, please do.” + </p> + <p> + “You won't go telling anybody else, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a living soul, upon my honor.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That is like her.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” said Zoe sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I have studied her character.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “When I have nothing better to do—when you are out of the room.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Well, I shall be out of the room very soon, if you say another word.” + </pre> + <p> + “And serve me right, too. I am a fool to talk when you allow me to + listen.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! How absurd of Vizard to tell you that two women would be too much + for one man.” + </p> + <p> + “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?'” + </p> + <p> + “'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 <i>not</i> tell you what he said.” + </p> + <p> + “I seem to hear Harrington talking,” said Severne. “What on earth makes + him so hard upon women? Would you mind telling me that?” + </p> + <p> + “Never ask me that question again,” said Zoe, with sudden gravity. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I won't; I'll get it out of him.” + </p> + <p> + “If you say a word to him about it, I shall be shocked and offended.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “A very unromantic one,” replied Zoe. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said Zoe: “that is her room;” 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> + “Then there's a woman-hater and a man-hater: good for dialogue.” + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>affaires de coeur</i> in which he has been engaged. + Perhaps he is reserving it all for the third volume.” + </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. “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.” + </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, + “Forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” 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—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, “I am afraid I disturb you.” + </p> + <p> + Zoe, from crimson, blushed scarlet, and hung her head; but Fanny was + ready. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt fired her pistol in reply: “I was not far off—most + fortunately.” + </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> + “May I ask, sir,” said she to Severne, with a horrible smile, “what you + were doing when I came in?” + </p> + <p> + Zoe clutched Fanny, and both awaited Mr. Severne's reply for one moment + with keen anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Fanny tittered; Zoe blushed again at such a fib and such <i>aplomb.</i> + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed,” said Miss Maitland; “you were admiring it very close, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “It is like herself—it will bear inspection.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Next time you wish to inspect it, you had better ask her <i>to take it + off,</i> and show you.” + </p> + <p> + “May I, Miss Maitland?” inquired the ingenuous youth. “She would not think + that a liberty?” + </p> + <p> + His mild effrontery staggered her for a moment, and she glared at him, + speechless, but soon recovered, and said, bitterly, “Evidently <i>not.”</i> + With this she turned her back on him rather ungraciously, and opened fire + on her own sex. + </p> + <p> + “Zoe!” (sharply). + </p> + <p> + “Yes, aunt.” (faintly) + </p> + <p> + “Tell your brother—if he can leave off smoking—I wish to speak + to him.” + </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, “I'll tell him, + aunt.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Fanny!” murmured Zoe, in a reproachful whisper. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + The big man replied, composedly, “Tell her I do—at meals and + prayers; but I always <i>sleep</i> with a pipe in my mouth—heavily + insured!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you mustn't; for she has something very particular to say to + you when you've done smoking.” + </p> + <p> + “Something particular! That means something disagreeable. Tell her I shall + be smoking all day to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Fanny danced into the room and said, “He says he shall be smoking all day, + <i>under the circumstances.”</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> + “What does the old cat want to talk to me about?” said Harrington, lazily, + to Fanny. + </p> + <p> + It was Zoe who replied: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “As if I could not see <i>that</i> without her assistance!” 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> + “Kiss your hand!” said she, disdainfully—“that is nothing. If I was + the man, I'd have kissed both your cheeks long before this.” + </p> + <p> + “And I should have boxed your ears and made you cry,” 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, “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “They <i>are</i> bored; whereas they only <i>looked</i> shy. I know 'em. + Call another subject, please.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will; but perhaps it may not be so agreeable a one.” + </p> + <p> + “That is very unlikely,” said the woman-hater, dryly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That is very true,” said Vizard warmly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know why you should, old fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How much do you want? That is the only question.” + </p> + <p> + “Glad to hear it,” thought Severne. “Well, let me see, you can't back your + luck with less than five hundred.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes; I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I am afraid you can only have three hundred. But I will + telegraph Herries, and funds will be here to-morrow afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” 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. “Thank you, old fellow,” said he. Then, still more + carelessly, “Like my I O U?” + </p> + <p> + “As you please,” said Vizard, with similar indifference; only real. + </p> + <p> + After he had got the money, Severne's conversational powers relaxed—short + answers—long reveries. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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> + “You won't see <i>them</i> 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. + </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. “Halloo!” said he, and hailed him. “Hi, Uxmoor! is that you?” + </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. “You will + balance us,” said he: “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.” + </p> + <p> + “To tell the truth,” said Lord Uxmoor, “I don't care for music.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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—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—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, “My sister, Miss + Vizard; but I dare say you have met her at the county balls.” + </p> + <p> + “I have never been so fortunate,” said Uxmoor, humbly. + </p> + <p> + “I have,” said Zoe; “that is, I saw you waltzing with Lady Betty Gore at + the race ball two years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” said Vizard, alarmed. “Uxmoor, were you waltzing with Lady Betty + Gore?” + </p> + <p> + “You have it on too high an authority for me to contradict.” + </p> + <p> + Finding Zoe was to be trusted as a county chronicle, Vizard turned sharply + to her, and said, “And was he flirting with her?” + </p> + <p> + Zoe colored a little, and said, “Now, Harrington, how can I tell?” + </p> + <p> + “You little hypocrite,” said Vizard, “who can tell better?” + </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, “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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, + “Don't you know we are going to the opera at Homburg?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know,” said he, “and I hope you will have a pleasanter evening + than I shall.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not coming with us?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said he, sorrowfully. + </p> + <p> + “You had better,” said Fanny, with a deal of quiet point, more, indeed, + than Zoe's pride approved. + </p> + <p> + “Not if Mr. Severne has something more attractive,” 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 “The Golden Star,” Homburg. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Telegraph reply. + </p> + <h3> + “S. T.” + </h3> + <p> + “Poor fellow,” said Ned; “my heart bleeds for him.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “But I have telegraphed!” objected Ned. + </p> + <p> + “Then telegraph again—<i>not,”</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. + “Let Miss Vizard decide,” said he. “Don't let me be so unhappy as to + offend her twice in one day.” + </p> + <p> + Zoe's pride and goodness dictated her answer, in spite of her wishes. She + said, in a low voice, “Go to your sick friend.” + </p> + <p> + “There,” said Severne. + </p> + <p> + “I hear,” said Fanny. “She means 'go;' but you shall repent it.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean what I say,” said Zoe, with real dignity. “It is my habit.” 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—on a single evening! Then first she + discovered that it was for him she had dressed, and had, for once, + beautified her beauty—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: “What a Lady Uxmoor this would make! She and I and her + brother might leaven the county.” + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>do.”</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, “Well, <i>there;</i> I advise you to join us before the opera is + over, that is all.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, I will!” said he, eagerly. “Oh, thank you.” + </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> + “Why, you said you hated music,” said Vizard. + </p> + <p> + Lord Uxmoor colored. “I recant,” 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, “Well, Mr. Severne, how do you like the turn things are + taking?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dover, I am very unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Serves you right.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pray don't say that. It is on you I depend.” + </p> + <p> + “On me, sir! What have I to do with your flirtations?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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 “Faust,” 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!—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 “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. + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What would you think of them, if they applauded?” said Ashmead. + </p> + <p> + “I should say they were good, charitable souls, and the very audience I + shall want in five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Ina turned the conversation with feminine quickness. “Mr. Ashmead, have + you kept your promise; my name is not in the programme?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not; and a great mistake too.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not been announced by name in any way?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But, of course, I have nursed you a bit.” + </p> + <p> + “Nursed me? What is that? Oh, what have you been doing? No <i>charlatanerie,</i> + I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of the kind,” said Ashmead, stoutly; “only the regular business.” + </p> + <p> + “And pray what is the regular business?” inquired Ina, distrustfully. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; but on your first night you must have two strings to your bow.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>that,</i> put me at the counter of a cafe', for I have no + business here.” + </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, “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Your own fault,” said Joseph. “You should have been announced. Prejudice + is a surer card than judgment. The public is an ass.” + </p> + <p> + “It must come to the same thing in the end,” said the Klosking firmly. + “One can sing, or one cannot.” + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>happy,</i> she is. I drink sunbeams at + her. I shall act and sing 'Le Parlate d'Amor' for <i>her</i>—and you + will see.” + </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> + “How is 'S. T.'?” said she, kindly. + </p> + <p> + “'S. T.'?” said he, forgetting. + </p> + <p> + “Why, your sick friend, to be sure.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive you? I approve. Are you going back to him?” said she, demurely. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you, I have made sacrifices enough.” + </p> + <p> + And so indeed he had, having got cleaned out of three hundred pounds + through preferring gambling to beauty. + </p> + <p> + “Singers good?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Wretched, all but one; and she is divine.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed. Who is she?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. A gentleman in black came out—” + </p> + <p> + “Mephistopheles?” + </p> + <p> + “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, <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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I am very glad you are not a man,” said Severne, tenderly. + </p> + <p> + “So am I,” whispered Zoe, and blushed. The curtain rose. + </p> + <p> + “Listen now, Mr. Chatterbox,” said Zoe. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Zoe colored with pleasure; but her good sense was not to be blinded. “The + only good black Mephistophe-<i>less</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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> + “There,” said Zoe, naively, “that is over, thank goodness: now you will + hear <i>my</i> singer.” + </p> + <p> + 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, + </p> + <p> + “New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill.” + </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, “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.” + </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. “My + friend,” said she, in a meek, deprecating way, “we are working-people: is + not Bordeaux good enough for <i>us?”</i> + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>good</i> women: they are so terribly stingy.” + </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.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm in your hands,” 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> + “Dear me!” said he, “what is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “My friend, forgive me. <i>He</i> was not there to share my triumph.” + </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—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—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. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think his conduct a little mysterious?” said Zoe, <i>mal 'a + propos</i> of anything that had been said hitherto. + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes; rather,” said Fanny, with marked carelessness. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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, “What <i>does</i> + it matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be unkind, Fanny. It matters to <i>me.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Not it. You have another ready.” + </p> + <p> + “What other? There is no one that I—Fanny.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nonsense! The man is evidently smitten, and you keep encouraging + him.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't; I am barely civil. And don't be ill-natured. What <i>can</i> + I do?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, be content with one at a time.” + </p> + <p> + “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—an acquaintance of yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “But you know all about him—that he is an excellent <i>parti,”</i> + said Fanny, with a provoking sneer. + </p> + <p> + This was not to be borne. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Zoe, “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—when he had + lost them.” + </p> + <p> + This stung, and Fanny turned white and red by turns. “I deserve this,” + said she, “for wasting advice on a coquette.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm not a hypocrite.” + </p> + <p> + “I never was called so before,” said Zoe, nobly and gently. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Fanny!” screamed Zoe, with horror. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg you will <i>not,</i> in your present temper,” 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—doubt—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, “'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. + </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> + “Oh!” said Zoe—“Harrington!” + </p> + <p> + Harrington's attention being thus drawn, he said, “No bad news, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Small-pox! Why, it is contagious,” cried Fanny; “and so disfiguring!” + </p> + <p> + “I can't help that,” 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, “It is brave + and good of you. We poor, emotional, cowardly girls should sit down and + cry.” + </p> + <p> + <i>“You</i> would not, Miss Vizard,” said he, firmly, looking full at her. + “If you think you would, you don't know yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Zoe colored high, and was silent. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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—to telegraph instead of going—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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “Well, now,” said he, “about this + trip to the lake.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not go, for one,” said Zoe, resolutely. + </p> + <p> + “La!” said Fanny, looking carefully away from her to Harrington; “and she + was the one that insisted.” + </p> + <p> + Zoe ignored the speaker and set her face stiffly toward Harrington. “She + only <i>said</i> that to <i>him.”</i> + </p> + <p> + <i>Fanny.</i> “But, unfortunately, ears are not confined to the noble.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Zoe.</i> “Nor tongues to the discreet.” + </p> + <p> + Both these remarks were addressed pointedly to Harrington. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “We don't speak,” said the frank Zoe; “that is up.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what is the row?”' + </p> + <p> + “No matter” (stiffly). + </p> + <p> + “No great matter, I'll be bound. 'Toll, toll the bell.' Here goes one more + immortal friendship—quenched in eternal silence.” + </p> + <p> + Both ladies bridled. Neither spoke. + </p> + <p> + “And dead silence, as ladies understand it, consists in speaking <i>at</i> + one another instead of <i>to.”</i> + </p> + <p> + No reply. + </p> + <p> + “That is well-bred taciturnity.” + </p> + <p> + No answer. + </p> + <p> + “The dignified reserve that distinguishes an estrangement from a + squabble.” + </p> + <p> + No reply. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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, “La! and the man is gone away: + so what is the use?” This remark she was careful to level at bare space. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “To a girl that is too sensible not to see the folly of quarreling about a + man—<i>when he is gone,”</i> said Fanny. + </p> + <p> + “If it is me you mean,” said Zoe stiffly, <i>“really</i> I am <i>surprised.</i> + You forget we are at daggers drawn.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't, dear; and parted forever.” + </p> + <p> + Zoe smiled at that against her will. + </p> + <p> + “Zoe!” (penitentially). + </p> + <p> + “Frances!” (archly). + </p> + <p> + “Come cuddle me quick!” + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <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—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 <i>'a la Rochefoucauld,</i> little histories, little anecdotes, + little gossip, and little snapshots at every feather flying. + </p> + <p> + “Quicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas, Gaudia, discursus, + nostri farrago Severni.” + </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, “By-the-by, old + fellow, that five hundred pounds you promised to lend me!” + </p> + <p> + Vizard was startled by this sudden turn of a conversation, hitherto + agreeable. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you have had three hundred and lost it,” said he. “Now, take my + advice, and don't lose any more.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But the bank is tied to a long run, the individual player is not.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “They taught me very little at Oxford.” + </p> + <p> + “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—pit-pat—cutting, + dealing, playing, revoking, scoring, and exchanging I. O. U. 's not worth + the paper.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no,” said Vizard, hastily, and half apologetically; “go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, of course I don't pretend to foreknowledge; but I do to + experience, and you know experience teaches the wise.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to fling five hundred after three. There—I beg pardon. Proceed, + instructor of youth.” + </p> + <p> + “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?”</i> + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you have not watched the cards.” + </p> + <p> + “Not much. The faces of the gamblers were always my study. They are + instructive.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather. Never missed one yet. Come all the way from Barfordshire to see + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there's an example.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <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—quoique cela y est pour quelquechose—c'est la + te'me'rite' de ceux qui perdent, et la timidite' de ceux qui gagnent.'” + </p> + <p> + “And,” says Vizard, “there is a French proverb founded on <i>experience:</i> + </p> + <p> + “C'est encore rouge qui perd, Et encore noir. Mais toujours blanc qui + gagne.'” + </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. “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 <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?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Ned, sulkily. “Read nothing but newspapers.” + </p> + <p> + “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. <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.” + </p> + <p> + Severne shot in, “A bank was broken last week.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it? Then all it lost has returned to it, or will return to it + to-night; for gamblers know no day of rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, they do. It is shut on Good-Friday.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Love at first sight.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “They are much better than we are; but you don't know how to take them,” + said Severne, with the calm superiority of success. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Where? In Frankfort?” + </p> + <p> + “No: at Homburg; at the opera. You must give me your word not to tell a + soul.” + </p> + <p> + “I pledge you my word of honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the lady who sung the part of Siebel.” + </p> + <p> + “Siebel?” muttered Severne. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” 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, “'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: <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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ina Klosking? Is that her name? How do <i>you</i> know?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I—fancy I heard so.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, she was not announced. Ina Klosking! It is a sweet name;” and he + sighed. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Vizard looked sad, and made no reply. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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: “I can give you bills for the money, + and for the three hundred you did lend me.” + </p> + <p> + Vizard did not receive this as expected. “Bills?” said he, gravely. “What, + do you do that sort of thing as well?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a merchant, then; are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; in a small way. If you will allow me, I will explain.” + </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>“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>—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.” + </p> + <p> + “That is enough,” said Vizard, wearily, “I will be your banker, and—” + </p> + <p> + “You are a good fellow!” said Severne warmly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, old man,” 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—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. + </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—the handle turned—he shoved them into + a drawer—Vizard came in—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> + “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.” + </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. “How good + you are!” said he; “but no. It is Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + “Sunday!” ejaculated Vizard. “What is that to you, a fellow who has been + years abroad?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really mean to say it does not matter to you?” asked Severne. + </p> + <p> + “Not one straw.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, as it does not matter to you, and does to me, give me my foolish + way, like a dear good fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, that is smart,” said Vizard—“very smart;” then, with a look of + parental admiration, “he gets his own way in everything. He <i>will</i> + have your money—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.” + </p> + <p> + “That I will, with pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, they are at luncheon—with their bonnets on.” + </p> + <p> + “I will join them in five minutes.” + </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> + “Couldn't think of deserting you,” 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, “Since you value my conversation so, + perhaps you will be good enough not to smoke for the next ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + Misogyn consented, but sighed. That sigh went unpitied, and the lady + wasted no time. + </p> + <p> + “Do you see what is going on between your sister and that young man?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; a little flirtation.” + </p> + <p> + “A great deal more than that. I caught them, in this very room, making + love.” + </p> + <p> + “You alarm me,” said Vizard, with marked tranquillity. + </p> + <p> + “I saw him—kiss—her—hand.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “But what can I do against three of them, unless you support me? There you + have let them go out together.” + </p> + <p> + “Together with Fanny Dover, you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and if Fanny had any designs on him, Zoe would be safe—” + </p> + <p> + “And poor Ned torn in two.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Serious! What? A nunnery? Then I pity my lady abbess.” + </p> + <p> + “Her views are plain enough to anybody but you.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they? Then make me as wise as my neighbors.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, she means to marry <i>you.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “What! Oh, come!—that is too good a joke!” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + The Misogyn was struck dumb. When he recovered, it was to repine at the + lot of man. + </p> + <p> + “Even my own familiar cousin—once removed—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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam, in my friend's name, I thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It is too true,” said Vizard dolefully: “showed me a ship in full sail, + and I praised it <i>in my way.</i> I said, 'That rock is rather well + done.'” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>mauvais + sujet.”</i> + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the door opened, and Fanny Dover glittered on the threshold + in Cambridge blue. + </p> + <p> + “There,” said Vizard; “did not I tell you? They are come home.” + </p> + <p> + “Only me,” said Fanny gayly. + </p> + <p> + “Where are the others?” inquired Miss Maitland sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Not far off—only by the riverside.” + </p> + <p> + “And you left those two alone!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be ashamed of yourself. What will the people say?” + </p> + <p> + “La! aunt, it is abroad. One does what one likes—out of England.” + </p> + <p> + “Here's a code of morals!” said Vizard, who must have his slap. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. + “There—there,” said he, kindly, “have a little mercy. Hang it all! + Don't make a mountain of a mole-hill.” + </p> + <p> + The official man-hater never moved a muscle. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, aunt,” 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> + “LAME!” + </h3> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Three to one? No. Surely you will be on the right side for once. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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, “It is all Ned Severne's fault. I wanted to leave for England + to-day.” + </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> + “Here's Miss Dover coming, but she is alone.” + </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. “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you come back before you had found them?” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt, it was going to rain; and it is raining now, hard.” + </p> + <p> + <i>“She</i> does not mind that.” + </p> + <p> + “Zoe? Oh, she has got nothing on!” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me!” cried Vizard. “Godiva <i>rediviva.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What a heartless world!” said Vizard dryly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Vizard, “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeoman!” said the Maitland, with sovereign contempt. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + “'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.”' + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Misander, with a good deal of malicious, intent, “you are + quite sure your yeoman is not a—<i>pauper—</i>an <i>adventurer—”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Positive.” + </p> + <p> + “And a <i>gambler.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “A thunder-storm is worse, aunt,” said Fanny, eagerly; “because then she + is frightened to death, and clings to him—<i>if he is nice.”</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> + “Yes,” said Miss Maitland; “come into my room, dear.” + </p> + <p> + Fanny complied, with rather a rueful face, not doubting that the public + “dear” was to get it rather hot in private. + </p> + <p> + Her uneasiness was not lessened when the old maid said to her, grimly, + “Now, sit you down there, and never mind your dress.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </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. “That is the real reason I put on my tight boots—to earn my + brooch. Isn't it a duck?” + </p> + <p> + <i>“Are</i> they tight, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Awfully. See—new on to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “But you could shake off your lameness in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “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,” said Fanny, skipping back to her first position with singular + pertinacity. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise that faithfully,” said Fanny—an adroit concession, since + she had been watching him like a cat a mouse for many days. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are a good girl; and, to reward you, I will tell you in + confidence all the strange stories I have discovered today.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do, aunt!” 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—closed at present because + of the rain; but it had been wide open at the top all the time. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Fanny looked at the drawers. They were high. + </p> + <p> + “La, aunt! how ever did you get up there?” + </p> + <p> + “By a chair.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, fancy you perched up there, listening, at your age!” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, aunt, don't be cruel! I am dying to hear it.” + </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 “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. + </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, “Chatter! chatter! chatter! How long are we to be kept waiting for + dinner, all of us?” + </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 “No. 74.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The Misogyn looked, and remarked as follows, “Idiots! at everything but + taking in the men.” + </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> + “What a good girl!” cried Severne. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “Why do you sigh?” said she, gently. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. Yes, I do. Because I am not happy.” + </p> + <p> + “Not happy?” said she. “You ought to be; and I am sure you deserve to be.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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, “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Zoe's cheeks beamed with gratified pride and her eyes sparkled. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Not even to my brother, who loves you so?” + </p> + <p> + “Not even to him.” + </p> + <p> + This alarmed the instinctive delicacy and modesty of a truly virgin soul. + </p> + <p> + “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). + </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> + “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.” + </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>“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—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. <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—a criminal?” + </p> + <p> + “My poor friend!” cried Zoe, clasping her innocent hands. + </p> + <p> + “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—and suspected.” + </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> + “Oh, poor Mr. Severne!” she cried; “poor Mr. Severne!” And the tears ran + down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “You would not wonder if you knew how superior you are to all the world: + how noble, how generous, and how I—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Severne, it is going to rain! We must get home as fast as ever we + can.” + </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—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. + </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 “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. + </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. “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.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “But it will ruin your dress.” + </pre> + <p> + “My dress! Why, it is as old as the hills. When I get home I'll give it to + Rosa, ready washed—ha-ha!” + </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> + “Et vera incessa patuit Dea.” + </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: “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I will obey,” 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, “Oh, how nice of them!” 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, “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. + </p> + <p> + “Why, la, miss; you'll never wear it again, to be sure?” said Rosa, + demurely. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Give away the gown she had been wooed and wet through in—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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Zoe suggested that would only have been a woman obliterated. + </p> + <p> + “That is true,” said he, with an air of hearty conviction. “I forgot + that.” + </p> + <p> + He then inquired if she had had a nice walk. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Come on, then.” + </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: “Oh, what fun! We are the + culprits, and they are the ones scolded.” + </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> + “Indeed?” said Vizard. “Not—more—<i>deceitful!</i> Do you + speak from experience?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, no,” said Fanny, getting rather frightened. “I only think so, + somehow.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but you must have a reason. May I respectfully inquire whether more + men have jilted you than you have jilted?” + </p> + <p> + “You may inquire as respectfully as you like; but I shan't tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a little,” suggested Vizard, dryly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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—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—insinuations, innuendo, etc. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Three hundred pounds!” cried the terrible old maid. “Where ever did he + get them to lose?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “You need not publish our private transactions, Ned,” said Vizard. “Miss + Maitland, this is really not in your department.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, it is,” said she; “and so you'll find.” + </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> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “You will meditate on the charms of Ina Klosking.” + </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. “What! + you listen, do you?” 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. “Ina Klosking!” inquired she; + “who is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Ask Mr. Severne,” 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, “Mr. Severne, who is Ina Klosking?” + </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), “Who—and what—is Ina Klosking?” + </p> + <p> + “She is a public singer.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I heard her sing at Vienna.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; but do you know her to speak to?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “What in—Siebel?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. But I saw large bills out with her name. She made her <i>de'but</i> + in Gounod's 'Faust.'” + </p> + <p> + “It is <i>my</i> Siebel!” cried Zoe, rapturously. “Why, aunt, no wonder + Harrington admires her. For my part, I adore her.” + </p> + <p> + <i>“You,</i> child! That is quite a different matter.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it is not. He is like me; he has only seen her once, as I have, and + on the stage.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Severne, is my brother in love with that lady?” + </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> + “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.” + </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—his <i>brusquerie—</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, “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.” + </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, “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.” + </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: “Aunt! one word. Was it you that ordered the fire in my + bedroom?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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> + “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.” + </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 “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I never did,” said he, as bold as brass. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Severne!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.'” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” said Fanny, mystified. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I did, dear. I remember 'The Golden Star' distinctly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And heard La Klosking.” + </p> + <p> + “It was devilish bad taste, and you may well be surprised and offended.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; not at that,” said Zoe. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Zoe beamed with pleasure. “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.” + </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, “It is very late. <i>I</i>'m tired; + so the sooner <i>you</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, squire, to be sure,” said Rosa. + </p> + <p> + “What—<i>my</i> brother!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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, “Is she gone?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I did. What of that?” + </p> + <p> + “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). + </p> + <p> + “There—pest!” + </p> + <p> + “That is not enough, nor half. There, and there, and there, and there, and + there, and there.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Must I? Well, then, I will. Goodby, tyrant dear. Oh, how I love you! + Come, Fanny.” + </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, “Oh, it is only on your account she objects to him.” + </p> + <p> + “And what are her objections?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, only grammatical ones, dear. She says his <i>antecedents</i> are + obscure, and his <i>relatives</i> unknown, ha! ha! ha!” Fanny laughed, but + Zoe did not see the fun. Then Fanny stroked her down. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. <i>He</i> + loves me. What more can any woman ask for than to be <i>ambata bene?”</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. “Well,” said she, “did you + speak to Zoe?” + </p> + <p> + “Just a word before dinner. Aunt, she came in wet, to the skin, and in + higher spirits than Rosa ever knew her.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt groaned. + </p> + <p> + “And what do you think? Her spoiled dress, she ordered it to be ironed and + put by. <i>It is a case.”</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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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 <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,” said this youthful philosopher, “is taken in by + words. The truth is, that gambling with cards is fair, and gambling + without cards a swindle.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You have got my opinion,” said Severne. “Oblige us with yours.” + </p> + <p> + “No; mine would not be popular just now: I reserve it till we are there, + and can see the lunatics at work.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then we are to go,” cried Fanny. “Oh, be joyful!” + </p> + <p> + “That depends on Miss Maitland. It is not in my department.” + </p> + <p> + Instantly four bright eyes were turned piteously on the awful Maitland. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, aunt,” said Zoe, pleadingly, “do you think there would be any great + harm in our—just for once in a way?” + </p> + <p> + “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 <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—myself, for example, and your brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Code three,” suggested Vizard—“the chaperonian code.” + </p> + <p> + “And a very good one, too,” said Zoe. “But, aunt, must we look on, or may + we play just a little, little?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, there can be no great harm in playing a little, in <i>good + company</i>—if you play with your own money.” She must have one dig + at Severne. + </p> + <p> + “I shan't play very deep, then,” said Fanny; “for I have got no money + hardly.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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> + “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 <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.” + </p> + <p> + Severne then dealt for <i>noir,</i> and the cards came as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Queen of hearts—four of clubs—ten of spades—nine of + diamonds: total, thirty-three.” + </p> + <p> + He then dealt for red: + </p> + <p> + Knave of clubs—ace of diamonds—two of spades—king of + spades—nine of hearts: total, thirty-two. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I deal for <i>noir.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Nine of diamonds. Red, then, is the actual color turned up on the black + line. Do you bet for it, or against it?” + </p> + <p> + “I bet for it,” cried Zoe. “It's my favorite color.” + </p> + <p> + “And what do you say on the main event?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, red on that too.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good. I go on dealing for <i>noir.</i> 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! <i>Rouge gagne, et couleur.</i> There is nothing like courage. + You have won both events.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what a nice game!” 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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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 <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.” + </p> + <p> + “And you really think you have invented it?” asked Vizard. + </p> + <p> + “I am not so conceited. My system was communicated to me, in the Kursaal + itself—by an old gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + <i>“An</i> old gentleman, or <i>the</i>—?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Harrington,” cried Zoe, “fie!” + </p> + <p> + “My wit is appreciated at its value. Proceed, Ned.” + </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> + “Curious place for his reverence to be in,” hazarded Vizard. + </p> + <p> + “He saw me betting, first on the black, then on the red, till I was + cleaned out, and then he beckoned me.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a man of premature advice anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You are quite wrong again. He never plays. He has heart-disease, and his + physician has forbidden him all excitement.” + </p> + <p> + “His nation?” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! French.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Harrington!—” + </p> + <p> + “Exclamations not allowed in sober argument, Zoe.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The ladies sided unanimously with Severne. “What! offer a <i>vieux de + l'Empire</i> five pounds? Oh, fie!” + </p> + <p> + “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 <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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Do dear,” said Zoe; “and what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not a mania; it is good taste. She is admirable.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Yes, in an opera; but I want to know how she looks and talks in a room; +and that is insane of me.” + </pre> + <p> + “Then so you <i>shall,</i> insane or not. I will call on her this morning, + and take you in my hand.” + </p> + <p> + “What an ample palm! and what juvenile audacity! Zoe, you take my breath + away.” + </p> + <p> + “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> + “No, no; to your being, like Agamemnon, a head taller than all the other + Greeks.” + </p> + <p> + “Harrington! I am not a Greek. I am a thorough English girl at heart, + though I am as black as a coal.” + </p> + <p> + “No apology needed in our present frame. You are all the more like the ace + of spades.” + </p> + <p> + “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—' + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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 <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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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—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, “I must go now, or I shall keep them waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “Only one, dear,” said Fanny dryly. + </p> + <p> + “Why only one?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Severne will not go.” + </p> + <p> + “That he will: I made a point of it.” + </p> + <p> + “You did, dear? but still he will not go.” + </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, + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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, “Then tell me what is it you know about <i>him</i> and + me, without knowing how on earth you know it.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Zoe Vizard turned very pale, but her eyes flashed defiance on her friend. + </p> + <p> + “That I'll know!” 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> + “Gone to get a sun-shade,” said Vizard. + </p> + <p> + “There!” said Zoe to Fanny, in a triumphant whisper. “What is that for but + to go with us?” + </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. “Come down, and look after him. He <i>must</i> be somewhere about.” + </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, “It is some + misunderstanding: we can't wait any longer.” + </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—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, “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>me.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Well, but it is a strange thing to do.” + </p> + <p> + “What does that matter? We are abroad.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Zoe, I am much obliged to you; but give it up.” + </p> + <p> + “No, dear.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall go alone.” + </p> + <p> + “What if I forbid you, miss?” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose I decline to tell you? I am seized with a virtuous fit—a + regular paroxysm.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall go to the opera and inquire, dear. But” (coaxingly) “you + will tell me, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + He hailed a conveyance; and they started at once for “The Golden Star.” + </p> + <p> + “Zoe,” said Harrington gravely, “something tells me I am going to meet my + fate.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “About what?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never mind.” + </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 “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. + </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—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> + “Oh, I'll wait for you as long as you like,” said Ashmead, kindly. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>he</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if you are resolved, there is no more to be said. I won't run my head + against a brick wall.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “At least you can tell me was she dark or fair.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, she was dark as night; but glorious as the sun. Her earthly abode + is the Russie, at Frankfort; blest hotel!” + </p> + <p> + “Did she tell you so?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Your curiosity was natural,” said Ina, dryly. “I will detain you with no + more questions.” + </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. + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Splendid!” said Harrington, to whom all this was literally Greek. “I'm so + excited, I'll order dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Harrington was a long time in conclave with M. Chevet. Then Zoe became + impatient. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do leave off ordering dinner,” said she, “and take me out to that + other paradise.” + </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, “And do they leave + this paradise to gamble in a room?” + </p> + <p> + “Leave it? They shun it. The gamblers despise the flowers.” + </p> + <p> + “How perverse people are! Excitement! Who wants any more than this?” + </p> + <p> + “Zoe,” said Vizard, “innocent excitement can never compete with vicious.” + </p> + <p> + “What, is it really wicked to play?” + </p> + <p> + “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—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.” + </p> + <p> + “Harrington, I will not play. I am much happier walking with my good + brother—” + </p> + <p> + “Faute de mieux.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + When she had got him there she said hotly that it was too bad. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is it?” said he, very calmly. “What?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Sensible girl!” + </p> + <p> + “Dishonest girl, <i>I</i> call her.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But to receive money for one purpose, and apply it to another, is—what + do you call it—<i>chose?—de'tournement des fonds</i>—what + is the English word? I've been abroad till I've forgotten English. Oh, I + know—embezzlement.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that is a big word for a small transaction; you have not dug in the + mine of the vernacular for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Harrington, if you don't mind, I do; so please come. I'll talk to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop a moment,” said Vizard, very gravely. “You will not say one word to + her.” + </p> + <p> + “And why not, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it would be unworthy of us, and cruel to her; barbarously cruel. + What! call her to account before that old woman and me?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? She is flaunting her blues before you two, and plenty more.” + </p> + <p> + “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 <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—if you have any.” + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>you.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “That is a good girl. But, come now, why say a word at all?” + </p> + <p> + “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.”</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> + “And where did you get it, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “At quite a small shop.” + </p> + <p> + “French?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; I think she was an Austrian. This is not a French mixture: loud, + discordant colors, that is the French taste.” + </p> + <p> + “Here is heresy,” said Vizard. “Why, I thought the French beat the world + in dress.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Gypsy locks, for instance,” suggested Fanny, slyly. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “This is very instructive,” said Vizard. “I was not aware I had a sister, + youthful, but profound. Let us go in and dine.” + </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. “Miss Maitland!” said she, with + such an air. <i>“She</i> wants to show her blues to all the world and his + wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Very natural,” said Vizard. “So would you, if you were in a scarlet gown, + with a crimson cloak.” + </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> + “Never you mind my impertinence,” said he; “the truth is, I am proud of + you. You are an observer.” + </p> + <p> + “Me? Oh—in color.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Harrington,” said the girl proudly, “I will be all eye and ear.” + </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—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. + </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—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> + “Faites le jeu, messieu, messieu.” + </p> + <p> + Then, after a pause of ten seconds: + </p> + <p> + “Le jeu est fait, messieu.” + </p> + <p> + Then, after two seconds: + </p> + <p> + “Rien ne va plus.” + </p> + <p> + Then mumble—mumble—mumble. + </p> + <p> + Then, “La' Rouge perd et couleur,” 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, “Faites le jeu, + messieu.” + </p> + <p> + Pause, ten seconds. + </p> + <p> + “Le jeu est fait, messieu.” + </p> + <p> + Pause, two seconds. + </p> + <p> + “Rien ne va plus.” + </p> + <p> + The <i>tailleur</i> dealt, and the croupier intoned, “La'! Rouge gagne et + couleur perd:” 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—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—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 <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, “I should like to see the + other rooms.” She whispered to Miss Maitland, “Surely they are not very + select in this one.” + </p> + <p> + “Lead on,” said Vizard; “that is the way.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Fanny laughed in his face. “Don't you <i>see?</i> C'est la chasse au + Severne qui commence.” + </p> + <p> + “En voil'a un se'v'ere,” 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, “May we play a little now?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Fanny!” + </p> + <p> + “No; you begin, dear. We will stand by and wish you success.” + </p> + <p> + “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 <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, “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” said Vizard. “What an extraordinary girl! She will give the devil + more trouble than most of you. Here's precocious prudence.” + </p> + <p> + Fanny laughed in his face. “C'est la chasse qui recommence,” 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, “And these two are + friends! female friends.” 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 “chasse” that drew down the simile. + </p> + <p> + Yes, there sat Ned Severne, talking familiarly to Joseph Ashmead, and + preparing to “put the pot on,” 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, “Let us have some fun. We have caught our truant: let us watch him, + unseen, a little, before we burst on him.” + </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—viz., alternation + of the color—does <i>sometime</i> happen, Severne lost heart. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Well, but,” said Ashmead, “you must tell me what to do.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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, “I will play at this + table,” 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, “Well, but + if he requested you to bet for him, how can he blame you?” + </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, “What money have + you of mine?” + </p> + <p> + Ashmead produced some notes. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” thought Zoe; “then he <i>is</i> coming back. Ah, I shall see what + all this means.” 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—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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Ina, “I will bet a few pounds on red, then on black, till + these runs begin.” + </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, + “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 <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—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. + </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—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.” + </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—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 <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—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. “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. + </p> + <p> + <i>“Allons,”</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. “There she is,” + said Zoe; “shall I speak to her?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “Ay, taken ill, and gone to be cured at another table,” said Vizard, + ironically. “I'll make the tour, and collar him.” + </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. “The idea of + sending Harrington on that fool's errand!” said she, peevishly. “Why, Zoe! + where are your eyes?” + </p> + <p> + Zoe showed her by opening them wide. “What <i>do</i> you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “What—do—I—mean? No matter. Mr. Severne is not in this + building, and you know it.” + </p> + <p> + “How can I know? All is so mysterious,” faltered Zoe. “How do <i>you</i> + know?” + </p> + <p> + “Because—there—least said is soonest mended.” + </p> + <p> + “Fanny, you are older than me, and ever so much cleverer. Tell me, or you + are not my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait till you get home, then. Here he is.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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. “Ah,” thought he, “nothing interests them now; Adonis is not + here.” 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—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, + “Now, Fanny.” So Fanny was brought to bay. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>she</i> does. And I <i>have</i> given you a hint, and a + pretty broad one, but you want such plain speaking.” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said Zoe. “So please speak plainly, if you can.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you <i>say</i> that.” + </p> + <p> + “And I mean it. Never mind consequences; tell me the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Like a man, eh? and get hated.” + </p> + <p> + “Men are well worth imitating, in some things. Tell me the truth, pleasant + or not, and I shall always respect you.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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, “Mademoiselle Klosking?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you are not quite blind, then.” + </p> + <p> + “And pray which does he prefer?” asked Zoe, a little proudly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Absurd!” + </p> + <p> + “He cut you and Vizard, rather than call upon her with you.” + </p> + <p> + “And so he did.” + </p> + <p> + “He flew from the gambling-table the moment she entered the room.” + </p> + <p> + “Behind him. She came in behind him.” + </p> + <p> + “There was a large mirror in front of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Fanny! oh!” and Zoe clasped her hands piteously. But she recovered + herself, and said, “After all, appearances are deceitful.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so deceitful as men,” said Fanny, sharply. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Zoe,” said Fanny, gravely, “he is not subject to bleeding at the nose.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, <i>then</i>—but how can you know that? What right have you to + say that?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll show you,” 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, “Here is the handkerchief he put before his face at + the opera; there!” 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. “What!” she cried; “you took it out of his pocket?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you have been in his room and got it.” + </p> + <p> + <i>“Nothing of the kind!</i> I sent Rosa.” + </p> + <p> + “My maid!” + </p> + <p> + “Mine, for that job. I gave her half a crown to borrow it for a pattern.” + </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, “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 <i>hers!”</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> + “La!” said Fanny; “fancy that! You are not blind now. You have seen more + than I. I made sure it was yellow silk.” + </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. “There!” said she, almost crying, “I never tell + the truth but I bitterly repent it.” + </p> + <p> + Zoe took no notice of this droll apothegm. Her hands began to work. “What + shall I do!” she said. “What shall I do!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't go on like that, Zoe!” cried Fanny. “After all, it is you he + prefers. He ran away from her.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes. But why?—why? What has he done?” + </p> + <p> + “Jilted her. I suppose. Aunt Maitland thinks he is after money; and, you + know, you have got money.” + </p> + <p> + “Have I nothing else?” said the proud beauty, and lifted her bowed head + for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “You have everything. But you should look things in the face. Is that + singer an unattractive woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. But she is not poor. Her kind of talent is paid enormously.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true,” said Fanny. “But perhaps she wastes it. She is a gambler, + like himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him go to her,” said Zoe, wildly; “I will share no man's heart.” + </p> + <p> + “He will never go to her, unless—well, unless we tell him that she + has broken the bank with his money.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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. “Dear + Zoe,” said she, “it is deeper than I thought. La! if you love him, why + torment yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Zoe; “it is deceit and mystery that torment me. Oh, what shall + I do! what shall I do!” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Turn him up! What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And this is love! I call it warfare.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very hard on him. You don't know all.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You will? Oh, Fanny, you are very good!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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, “Well, dear?” + </p> + <p> + Then Zoe murmured, scarce audibly, “Act—<i>as if</i>—I loved + him.” + </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, “Very well, I will: so now bathe your eyes and come in to + supper.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; please go and make an excuse for me.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “You are very fond of Mr. Severne, are you not?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “I am,” said Vizard, stoutly, preparing for battle. “You are not, + perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “He is, I am sorry to say. It is his one fault. Most of us have two or + three.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “No fear of that: he has given me his word of honor.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, did they? What was his own money?” + </p> + <p> + “How much was it, Zoe?” + </p> + <p> + “Fifty pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Fanny looked at Zoe, whose color was rising high at all this. “Well!” said + she, “when you gentlemen fall in love <i>with each other,</i> you + certainly are faithful creatures.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Crichton is to be taken to England for his good.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And I am to be grateful to you for your co-operation in this.” + </p> + <p> + “You can, if you like.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will secure an agreeable companion for the rest of the tour, eh?—my + diplomatic cousin and my silent sister.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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—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, “Well, what is the matter + now? Didn't I do it cleverly?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, too cleverly. Oh, Fanny, I begin to revolt against myself.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “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!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take your advice now,” said she. “I will never gamble again.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, take my advice, and lock up the swag before a creature sees it. + Homburg is full of thieves.” + </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> + “If you will be so kind.” + </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. “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.'” + </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—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.” + </p> + <p> + “You forget,” said she, “this money does not all belong to me. Another can + claim half; the gentleman with whom we are in partnership.” + </p> + <p> + Ashmead looked literally blue. “Nonsense!” said he, roughly. “He can only + claim his fifty pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, my friend. I took two equal sums: one was his, one mine.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “That is my business. Don't you go mad now, and break my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Ashmead observed she was pale, and asked her, with concern, if she was + ill. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “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 <i>he</i> says. You gave him your address.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Then he will pay us a visit as soon as he hears: so I need give myself no + further trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should you? Wait till he comes,” 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> + “What was he like?” said she, to turn the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “The handsomest young fellow I ever saw.” + </p> + <p> + “Young, of course?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What a pity, to begin gambling so young!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Dark or fair?” + </p> + <p> + “Fair. Pink-and-white, like a girl; a hand like a lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed. Fine eyes?” + </p> + <p> + “Splendid!” + </p> + <p> + “What color?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And what was that?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see, his hair was brown; but just above the forehead he had got + one lock that was like your own—gold itself.” + </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. “What is the matter?” said he. “Are you ill?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no. Only a little—astonished. Such a thing as that is very + rare.” + </p> + <p> + “That it is. I never saw a case before.” + </p> + <p> + “Not one, in all your life?” asked she, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, no; not that I remember.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me a minute,” 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, “This is + your mother.” + </p> + <p> + “It is.” + </p> + <p> + “It is angelic—as might be expected.” + </p> + <p> + He took up another. + </p> + <p> + “This is your brother, I suppose. Stop. Haloo!—what is this? Are my + eyes making a fool of me?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Ina started from her seat while he spoke. “Ah!” she cried, “I thought so—my + Edward!” 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, “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. + </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> + “Where is he?” said she, firmly. + </p> + <p> + “He told me he was at the 'Russie.'” + </p> + <p> + “We will go there at once. When is the next train?” + </p> + <p> + Ashmead looked at his watch. “In ten minutes. We can hardly do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we can. Order a carriage this instant. I will be ready in one + minute.” + </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> + “Who will dare insult me?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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. “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Edward Severne.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how cold-hearted and wise you are!” said she. “But such a humiliating + position for <i>him!”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Don't you be silly. You won't keep him any other way.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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> + “My dear friend,” he faltered, “you are out of luck to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “He will not come with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he would come fast enough, if he was there; but he is gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Gone! To Homburg?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Unfortunately, he is gone to England. Went off, by the fast train, an + hour ago.” + </p> + <p> + Ina fell back in silence, just as if she had been struck in the face. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Vizard?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—Miss Maitland, Miss Dover. See, I wrote them all down.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am unfortunate! Why was I ever born?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </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> + “Impossible!” was the reply. “If she can't sing, I close.” + </p> + <p> + Ashmead went back to “The Star.” + </p> + <p> + Ina was in her bedroom. + </p> + <p> + He sent in a line, “Can you sing tonight? If not he says he must close.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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> + “By-the-way, Mr. Severne,” said Fanny, apropos of a church on a hill they + were admiring, “did you get your winnings?” + </p> + <p> + “My winnings! You are sarcastical.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I? Really I did not intend to be.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; forgive me; but that did seem a little cruel. Miss Dover, I was a + heavy loser.” + </p> + <p> + “Not while we were there. The lady and gentleman who played with your + money won, oh, such a deal!” + </p> + <p> + “The devil they did!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Did you not stay behind, last night, to get it? We never saw you at + the Russie.” + </p> + <p> + “I was very ill.” + </p> + <p> + “Bleeding at the nose?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will. You know you left fifty pounds for a friend to bet with.” + </p> + <p> + Severne stared; but was too eager for information to question her how she + knew this. “Yes, I did,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “And you really don't know what followed?” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens! how can I?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He was violent, for the first time since they had known him, and his eyes + flashed fire. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Fanny, beginning to be puzzled and rather frightened, “this + man, who you <i>say</i> was a new acquaintance—” + </p> + <p> + “Whom I <i>say?</i> 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!” + </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, “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!” + </p> + <p> + “With my money?” gasped Severne. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>cher + ami.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What! you gave him your address?” this with an involuntary glance of + surprise at Zoe. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Severne was a little cowed by Zoe' s interference. He stood his ground; + but sullenly, instead of violently. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “You had better jump out,” said Fanny. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + Thus spoke the trimmer. The reply took her by surprise. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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> + “If you GO BACK TO HOMBURG, oblige ME BY REMAINING there.” + </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, “If you go back to Homburg, oblige + me by remaining there.” + </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—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. “I have lost him,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” cried Fanny. “See, he has not taken his cane and umbrella.” + </p> + <p> + <i>“They</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + This set Fanny fluttering. “There, let me out to speak to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Sit quiet,” said Zoe, sternly. + </p> + <p> + “No; no. If you love him—” + </p> + <p> + “I do love him—passionately. And <i>therefore</i> I'll die rather + than share him with any one.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is dreadful to be fixed here, and not allowed to move hand or + foot.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the lot of women. Let me feel the hand of a friend, that is all; + for I am sick at heart.” + </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, “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor girl!” said Miss Maitland; and took the hint. She had still an arrow + in her quiver—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> + “So I did,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “And have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, no; to tell the truth, I forgot.” + </p> + <p> + “Then please do it now; for they are going on worse than ever.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll warn the fool,” said he. + </p> + <p> + He did warn him, and in the following terms: + </p> + <p> + “Look here, old fellow. I hear you are getting awfully sweet on my sister + Zoe.” + </p> + <p> + No answer. Severne on his guard. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Severne hung his head. “Of course, I know it is great presumption in me.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then,” said Severne, “it is only on my account you object.” + </p> + <p> + “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—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.” + </p> + <p> + “What a terrible prospect—to be tied to the best friend in England + as well as the loveliest woman!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if that is the view you take,” said Vizard, beaming with delight, “it + is no use talking reason to <i>you.”</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, “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—much too poor to + marry her, and I wish I could make you a rich one; but I cannot. There is + my hand.” + </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. “Go it, Ned,” said he, to himself; “you can't afford to make + enemies.” + </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 “le grand art de plaire.” + </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—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. + </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> + “Halloo!” said Vizard, in his blunt way, <i>“you</i> are not well. What + can I do for you?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said Vizard, coolly. “You are not all right. You look + as if you were going to faint.” + </p> + <p> + “What, are my lips blue?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but they are pale.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then it is not a case of fainting. It <i>may</i> be exhaustion.” + </p> + <p> + “You know best. What shall we do?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, nothing. Yes; mind our own business.” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart; my business just now is to offer you some restorative—a + glass of wine.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not obliged to tell <i>you.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Of course you are not obliged; but you might as well.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, it is Hunger.” + </p> + <p> + “Hunger!” + </p> + <p> + “Hunger—famine—starvation. Don't you know English?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Much obliged,” said the lady, satirically, “our acquaintance is not <i>quite</i> + long enough for that.” + </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. “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.” + </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, “You daren't. I'll + call the police.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You can't be in earnest, sir,” said she, with sudden dignity. + </p> + <p> + “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—to your + dinner—like a ruffian.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll go—like a lady,” 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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He was surprised, but obeyed her orders. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>stranger</i> in my teeth. I am Harrington Vizard, + a Barfordshire squire.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were not a Cockney.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord forbid! Does that information entitle me to any in return?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know; but, whether or no, my name is Rhoda Gale.” + </p> + <p> + “Have another plate, Miss Gale?” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks.” + </p> + <p> + He ordered another. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is never egotistical to oblige.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter. Do us both good.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but before the waiters and people! See how they are staring at us + already.” + </p> + <p> + “We will have another go in at the beef, and then adjourn to the garden + for your narrative.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Vizard gave the order. + </p> + <p> + She seemed to think some explanation necessary, though he did not. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Vizard sat wondering at the girl. He said to himself, “What is she? A <i>lusus + naturoe?”</i> + </p> + <p> + 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, <i>sir;”</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “If it lies with me, I demand the minutest details,” said Vizard, warmly. + </p> + <p> + “You shall have them; and true to the letter.” + </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> + “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 <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—against + oral tradition. When the steps of deviation are observed, it is quite a + study. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>that.</i> + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, not at all. I admire her.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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: <i>that</i> I have discovered since. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I followed him about like a little bloodhound, and dived into the + libraries after each subject he treated or touched. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>nature,</i> because they have been pupils of + man for centuries. I bore you?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What, all by yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What else could you expect?” said Vizard. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing else from <i>unpicked</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Was not that rather foxy, Miss Gale?” + </p> + <p> + “Foxy as my hair itself, Mr. Vizard. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Am I to believe all this?” said Vizard. “Can women be such true friends?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” + </p> + <p> + “Alas for them!” said Rhoda, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. <i>Solem e + mundo tollunt, qui tollunt amicitiam.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Halloo!” cried Vizard. “What! you know Latin too?” + </p> + <p> + “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; <i>it is usual.</i> Study now, with the reverence they + don't deserve, the non-observers of antiquity.'” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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—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 <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—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> + “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 <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.—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> + “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—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 <i>them,</i> and + not <i>men,</i> the medical, and unmusical, sex. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “I will tell you how they got in. The act of Parliament makes two + exceptions: first, it lets in, <i>without examination</i>—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 <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!” + </p> + <p> + “The Regius Professor of Medicine?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Tyndall?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Huxley?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I give it up.” + </p> + <p> + “The Archbishop of Canterbury.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come! a joke is a joke.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “However, at her next hospital, Miss Garrett was more discreet, and took + pains to conceal her galling superiority. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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: + </p> + <p> + “'Our poverty, but not our will, consents.'” + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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.' + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but perhaps his soul lived in an island.” + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That was a nut to crack.” + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you account for that?” asked Vizard. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it so simple as that?” + </p> + <p> + “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, <i>sir,</i> Truth lies in no + well. The place Truth lies in is—<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.” + </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> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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.' + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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—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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Fancy you remembering figures like that,” said Vizard. + </p> + <p> + “It is all training and habit,” said she, simply. + </p> + <p> + “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—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> + “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> + “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> + “The instruction of women for the profession of medicine was to be + conducted in separate classes confined entirely to women. + </p> + <p> + “The professors of the Faculty of Medicine should, for this purpose, be + permitted to have separate classes for women. + </p> + <p> + “All these regulations were approved by the chancellor, and are to this + day a part of the law of that university. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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—extremely wise and + arrant fools. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “It seems probable.” + </p> + <p> + “Then view that probability by the light of fact: + </p> + <p> + “In physiology the male students were 127; in chemistry, 226; 25 obtained + honors in physiology; 31 in chemistry. + </p> + <p> + “In physiology and chemistry there were five women. One obtained honors in + physiology alone; four obtained honors in both physiology and chemistry. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why admit her to the competition?” said Vizard. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “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 <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> + “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> + “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> + “This proposal was negatived by 58 to 47. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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>—by class, <i>Pentandria monogynia;</i> and the buttercup + as <i>Ranunculus acnis</i>—<i>Polyandria monogynia;</i> the + snow-drop as <i>Galanthus nivalis</i>—<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>—<i>Syngenesia + superflua.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>Polyandria + monogynia?</i> Is trigamy to be identified in their sweet souls with + floral innocence, and their victims sitting by?” + </p> + <p> + “Such classifications are puerile and fanciful,” said Miss Gale; “but, for + that very reason, they don't infect <i>animals</i> with trigamy. Novels + are much more likely to do that.” + </p> + <p> + “Especially ladies' novels,” suggested Vizard, meekly. + </p> + <p> + “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, <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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Gale nodded gravely, and resumed. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “Then came the great fight, which is not ended yet. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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 <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> + “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> + “I shall tell you what we really were, and what foul mouths and pens + insinuated we must be. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “Sir, this gentle proposal was rejected with rude scorn, and in aggressive + terms. Such is the spirit of a trades-union. + </p> + <p> + “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—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> + “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> + “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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Now, the medical student surpasses most young men in looseness of life, + and indecency of mind and speech. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “'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> + “'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.” + </p> + <p> + “Infamous!” cried Vizard. “One comfort, no man ever penned that. That is + some old woman writing down young ones.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Her cubs.” + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “Thus did the immodest sex, in the person of the medical student, outrage + seven fair samples of the modest sex—to teach them modesty. + </p> + <p> + “Next morning the police magistrates dealt with a few of our teachers, + inflicted severe rebukes on them, and feeble fines. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.' + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “There voted with the union fourteen firms, two ladies, <i>thirty-seven + doctors,</i> and three <i>druggists.</i> + </p> + <p> + “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> + “The union served the provost with an interdict not to declare the new + managers elected. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “Now, in that country they can get the opinions of the judges by raising + what they call an action of declarator. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “My poor girl!” 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> + “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> + “I sent her a line that an old friend had returned, and had not forgotten + her, nor our mutual vows. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “Well, sir, an extraordinary occurrence befriended me; no, not + extraordinary—unusual. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “So you said before.” + </p> + <p> + “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> + “The wife was paralyzed, and sat stupefied, and the people about feared + for her reason. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “The woman lifted her head and saw me. She had a noble face, though now + distorted and wild. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “I said, 'You must wait till a physician has seen him; he has moved a + finger.' + </p> + <p> + “I stared at the body, and they all stared at me. + </p> + <p> + “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—the one with the ring on. + </p> + <p> + “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—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> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “So then we handed him to his joyful wife. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “How good of them!” said Vizard, turning red. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “There was a fox!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, look at my hair. What else could you expect? I said that before, + too. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “I courtesied, and felt my face red, and said I should be the proudest + woman in France. + </p> + <p> + “'Grand Dieu,' said he, 'I hope not; for your modesty is not the least of + your charms.' + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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.” + </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> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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—what was left of it—my + mother. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “By-and-by the landlady pressed me for money. I gave her my gowns and + shawls to sell for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Goose!” + </p> + <p> + “And just now I was a fox.” + </p> + <p> + “You are both. But so is every woman.” + </p> + <p> + “She handed me a few shillings, by way of balance. I lived on them till + they went. Then I starved a little.” + </p> + <p> + “With a ring on your finger you could have pawned for ten guineas!” + </p> + <p> + “Pawn my ring! My father gave it me.” She kissed it tenderly, yet, to + Vizard, half defiantly. + </p> + <p> + “Pawning is not selling, goose!” said he, getting angry. + </p> + <p> + “But I must have parted with it.” + </p> + <p> + “And you preferred to <i>starve?”</i> + </p> + <p> + “I preferred to starve,” 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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she like you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit. We are by different mothers. Hers was a Greek, and she is a + beautiful, dark girl.” + </p> + <p> + “I admire beauty; but is she like you—in—in—disposition?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord! no; very superior. Not abominably clever like you, but absurdly + good. You shall judge for yourself. Oblige me with your address.” + </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, “There—the prayers of this congregation + are requested for Harrington Vizard, saddled with a virago.” + </p> + <p> + “Saddled with a virago!” screamed Fanny. + </p> + <p> + “Saddled with a—!” sighed Zoe, faintly. + </p> + <p> + “Saddled with a virago FOR LIFE!” shouted Vizard, with a loud defiance + that seemed needless, since nobody was objecting violently to his being + saddled. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Zoe. + </p> + <p> + “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 <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.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor thing!” said Zoe, and her eyes glistened directly. + </p> + <p> + “It <i>is</i> 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 <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?” + </p> + <p> + “No, never!” said Zoe, warmly. “'Let me think. Offer her a <i>loan.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear, she will. Order the carriage. She shall not go to bed hungry—nobody + shall that you are interested in.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, after dinner will do.” + </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, “It is all her own fault. What business + have women to set up for doctors?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not,” said Zoe; “only we must not say so. He indulges <i>us</i> + in our whims.” + </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—she must + go and put on her bonnet. “You will come with me, Fanny?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Vizard, however, was not pleased. + </p> + <p> + “You go with her, Ned,” said he. “Miss Dover prefers to stay and smoke a + cigar with me.” + </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—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—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. + </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, “Men understand one another. I believe father would + be angry with me for not.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Then she made light of it, and said to herself, “No matter; 'qui dort, + dine.'” + </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. “Come in,” 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. “Miss Gale?” said Zoe, timidly. + </p> + <p> + “I am Miss Gale,” said Rhoda, quietly, but firmly. + </p> + <p> + “I am Miss Vizard—the gentleman's sister that you met in Leicester + Square to-day;” and she took a cautious step toward her. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda's cheeks burned. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid you <i>must,”</i> said Rhoda. “But at least I can offer you a + seat.” + </p> + <p> + Zoe sat down, and there was an awkward silence. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart: there.” + </p> + <p> + (Almost in a whisper) “He has told me.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda put the other hand to her face, though it was so dark. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Can I have forgotten my mother?” asked Rhoda of herself, but aloud. + </p> + <p> + “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—ha-ha!” + </p> + <p> + “You are no more commonplace than I am; much less now, I'll be bound.” + </p> + <p> + “We will put that to the test,” said Zoe, adroitly enough. <i>“My</i> view + of all this is—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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miss Vizard, you are very good; but I am afraid and ashamed to + borrow. I never did such a thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Time you began, then. <i>I</i> have—often. But it is no use + arguing. You <i>must—</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.” + </p> + <p> + “Do tell!” cried Rhoda, surprised into an idiom; “as if I'd have taken + money from <i>him!”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course not; but between <i>us</i> 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—” + </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, + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Zoe. “I'm not reckoned plain; only as black as a coal.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Severne.” + </p> + <p> + “And what are you doing there?” + </p> + <p> + “Waiting for Miss Vizard.” + </p> + <p> + “Come in, then.” + </p> + <p> + “She told me not.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I tell you <i>to.</i> The idea! Miss Vizard!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Please have Mr. Severne in. Here he is sitting—like Grief—on + the steps. I will soon be back.” + </p> + <p> + She flew to the landlady. “Mrs. Grip, I want a candle.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the shops are open,” said the woman, rudely. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I have no time. Here is a sovereign. Please give me two candles + directly, candlesticks and all.” + </p> + <p> + The woman's manner changed directly. + </p> + <p> + “You shall have them this moment, miss, and my own candlesticks, which + they are plated.” + </p> + <p> + She brought them, and advised her only to light one. “They don't carry + well, miss,” said she. “They are wax—or summat.” + </p> + <p> + “Then they are summat,” said Miss Gale, after a single glance at their + composition. + </p> + <p> + “I'll make you a nice hot supper, miss, in half an hour,” said the woman, + maternally, as if she were going to <i>give</i> it her. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you. Bring me a two-penny loaf, and a scuttle of coals.” + </p> + <p> + “La, miss, no more than that—out of a sov'?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—THE CHANGE.” + </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. “Oh, you beauty!” + she cried, and drank her in from head to foot. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said she, drawing a long breath, “Nature, you have turned out a <i>com-</i>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. + </p> + <p> + He received the inspection merrily, till she uttered that ejaculation, + then he started a little, and stared at her. + </p> + <p> + “We have met before,” said she, almost tenderly. + </p> + <p> + “Have we?” said he, putting on a mystified air. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + “And since you took me for an old acquaintance, I hope you will treat me + as one,” said Severne, with consummate grace and assurance. + </p> + <p> + “I will, <i>sir,”</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—for boys. He was also glib and satirical upon + that favorite butt, a friend. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </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>“Do</i> you know her? tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Know her! How should I?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you might have met her—abroad.” + </p> + <p> + “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?”</i> + </p> + <p> + “She seemed very positive; and I think she is an accurate person. She + seemed quite surprised and mortified when you said 'No.'” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, fie! you listened!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pray,” said Zoe, “you make me blush!” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course it is not wrong; but is it wise?” + </p> + <p> + Zoe did not answer: the question puzzled her. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Inflammable! What! Harrington? Well, yes; for I've seen smoke issue from + his mouth—ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not in love!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Zoe looked very serious, and said nothing. But her long silence showed him + his words had told. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You alarm me,” said Zoe. “Pray do not make me unjust. This is a lady with + a fine mind, and, not a designing woman.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Angry with <i>you?”</i> + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Zoe disputed this—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, “Thank you, dear, for + sending me on a good errand. I found her in a very mean apartment, without + fire or candle.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought as much,” said Vizard. + </p> + <p> + “Did she take the money?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—as a loan.” + </p> + <p> + “Make any difficulties?” + </p> + <p> + “A little, dear.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Zoe smiled, and said his words were harder than his deeds. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Are you there still, my Lady Disdain?” said Vizard. “I thought you were + gone to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “You might well think that. I had nothing to keep me up.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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). + </p> + <p> + <i>Zoe and Fanny</i> (screaming, and pinching Ned Severne right and left). + “Ah! ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Vizard to the rescue!” + </p> + <p> + “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—</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—” + </p> + <p> + Miss Dover shot in contemptuously, “I had no companion—” + </p> + <p> + —“For want of a fool to speak her mind to.” + </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> + “Of course you ought,” 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> + “You might take Homburg on the way,” said Fanny, out of fun—<i>her</i> + fun—not really meaning it. + </p> + <p> + Severne cast a piteous look at Zoe. “For shame, Fanny!” said she. “And why + put Homburg into his head?” + </p> + <p> + “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: + </p> + <h3> + “MISS RHODA GALE, M.D.” + </h3> + <p> + “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.” + </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, “Sit down, + Miss Gale; my sister will soon be here. I have sent your card up to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell her?” said Severne, with the manner of one eager to be + agreeable to the visitor. + </p> + <p> + “If you please, sir,” said Miss Gale. + </p> + <p> + Severne went out zealously, darted up to Zoe's room, knocked, and said, + “Pray come down: here is that doctress.” + </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> + “Any news from mamma?” asked Vizard, in his blunt way. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Good news?” + </p> + <p> + “No. My mother writes me that I must not expect her. She has to fight with + a dishonest executor. Oh, money, money!” + </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—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, “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. + </p> + <p> + “Pray sit down,” said Zoe, formally. Rhoda sat down, and hesitated a + moment. She felt a frost. + </p> + <p> + Vizard helped her, “Miss Gale has heard from her mother.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Zoe looked at her brother, perplexed. + </p> + <p> + “Stuff and nonsense!” said Vizard. “You will not take it, Zoe.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Vizard fidgeted on his chair. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I mustn't go in a passion,” said he, dryly. + </p> + <p> + “Who cares?” said Miss Gale, turning her head sharply on him in the way I + have tried to describe. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “No, she doesn't now. She never heard the name of Vizard.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Miss Gale,” said Zoe, “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?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Gale sighed deeply. + </p> + <p> + “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 <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—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 <i>man</i> 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 + <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!” + </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, “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.” + </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, “I am unable to advise you. It is very hard + that any one so deserving should be degraded.” + </p> + <p> + 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—<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.” + </p> + <p> + “But what am I to do for all that?” + </p> + <p> + “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—<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—if + they can.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Gale's color came and went, and her eyes sparkled. “Oh, how good you + are! Is there a hospital?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not. What is the law to ladies with elevated views? By-the-by, + what is the penalty—six months?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. Twenty pounds. Oh, dear! another twenty pounds!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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, “I hope I may prove worthy.” + </p> + <p> + “That is <i>your</i> business,” said Vizard, with supreme indifference; + “mine is to be just. Have a cup of tea?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Hum!” 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—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. + </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> + “This is your room, sir,” said he. “Shall I unpack your things when they + come?” + </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—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, “Come with me, children.” + </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—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.” + </p> + <p> + “I never had peaches enough off the tree before,” said Fanny. + </p> + <p> + “No more have I,” said Severne. “This must be the Elysian fields, and I + shall spoil my dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Like diamonds. But that proves nothing: it is their normal condition.” + </p> + <p> + “There, make him a courtesy,” said Zoe, “and come along.” + </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—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"> + “Quite overcanopied with lush woodbine, + With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.” + </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> + “What an Arcadia!” said he. + </p> + <p> + “You would not like to be banished to it,” said Zoe, demurely. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't compel her to join us,” said Severne. “She is meditating.” + </p> + <p> + “On what? She is not much given that way.” + </p> + <p> + “On her past sins; and preparing new ones.” + </p> + <p> + “For shame! She is no worse than we are. Do you really admire Islip?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I do, if this is Islip?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “It is a bower,” said he, warmly. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “Never. But I have it now. I should like to live in it—with you.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Fanny came up. “Well, what is the matter now?” said she, with pert, yet + thoroughly apathetic, indifference. + </p> + <p> + “The matter is—extravagances. Here is a man of the world pretending + he would like to end his days in Marks's cottage.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop a bit. It was to be with somebody I loved. And wouldn't you, Miss + Dover?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You have not got one, I'm afraid,” said Zoe, “or you would not put him + last.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? when he is of the last importance,” 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, “Did you hear what she said about a large house being best for + lovers?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “She was for both, if I remember,” said Zoe, still coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Because she is not in love.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I really believe she is not—for once.” + </p> + <p> + “There, you see. She is in an unnatural condition.” + </p> + <p> + “For her, very.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “What have I to do with that? You mustn't.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Fanny,” said she, “you really must not do <i>that”</i>—[pause]—“out + of our own grounds. Kiss me, darling. I am a happy girl.” 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—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. + </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> + “As long as ever you like, dear. Mamma will not miss me a bit. Make your + mind easy.” + </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—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, “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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! what is the matter?” inquired Zoe, always kind-hearted. + </p> + <p> + “Gastritis—so she says.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” 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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “His friend! that was so ill. I hope he has not lost him,” said Zoe. + </p> + <p> + “He hasn't lost him in this letter, Miss Gush,” said Vizard. “But you can + ask him when he comes.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I shall ask him,” 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—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. “We have no chance against a lord, + or a lady, you and I, Miss Dover.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't,” said she; “but you need not complain. She wishes she were + here.” + </p> + <p> + “So do I. Will you help me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I shall not. You can make love to me. I am tired of never being made + love to.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” said Fanny. “I can bear a good deal of it—after such a + fast.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “A love song?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you sing it as well as you can talk it?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “With disdain?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no.” + </p> + <p> + “With just suspicion?” + </p> + <p> + “No; with unmerited pity.” And he began to open the piano. + </p> + <p> + “What! do you accompany yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, after a fashion; by that means I don't get run over.” + </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> + “More tunable than lark to shepherd's ear When wheat is green, when + hawthorn buds appear.” + </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> + “I was afraid of Vizard,” said he; “he hates bad music.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Severne laughed good-humoredly. “Thus encouraged, who could resist?” said + he. “It is so delightful to sing in a shower bath of criticism.” + </p> + <p> + He sung a sprightly French song, with prodigious spirit and dash. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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, “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </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 + “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. + </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, “Do pray say things to comfort him;” but Fanny read these gentle + glances <i>'a la</i> Dover. She got hold of Severne one day, and said, + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you can't divine,” said he, sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, I can; and it is your own fault.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And am I not in earnest?” + </p> + <p> + “Not so much as he is. You have known her four months, and never once + asked her to marry you.” + </p> + <p> + “So I am to be punished for my self-denial.” + </p> + <p> + “Self-denial! Nonsense. Men have no self-denial. It is your cowardice.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be cruel. You know it is my poverty.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “In short, you think she will doubt my affection, if I don't ask her to + share my poverty.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You torture me. I'd rather die than lose her.” + </p> + <p> + “Then live and win her. I've told you the way.” + </p> + <p> + “I will scrape an income together, and ask her.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon your honor?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my soul.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, in my opinion, you will have her in spite of Lord Uxmoor.” + </p> + <p> + Hot from this, Edward Severne sat down and wrote a moving letter to a + certain cousin of his in Huntingdonshire. + </p> + <p> + “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, + </p> + <h3> + “EDWARD SEVERNE.” + </h3> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + To this letter he received an immediate reply: + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Your affectionate cousin, + </p> + <h3> + “GEORGE SEVERNE.” + </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, “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.” + </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> + “And oh, Miss Dover,” said he, “do not let me suffer by going away and + leaving a rival behind.” + </p> + <p> + “Suffer by it!” said she. “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.” + </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> + “All right,” said Vizard. “Tell some of them to order the dog-cart for + your train.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “All right,” said Vizard. Then he rang the bell, countermanded the + dog-cart, and ordered the barouche. + </p> + <p> + “A barouche for me!” said Severne. “Why, I am not going to take the ladies + to the station.” + </p> + <p> + “No; it is to bring one here. She comes down from London five minutes + before you take the up train.” + </p> + <p> + There was a general exclamation: Who was it? Aunt Maitland? + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Vizard, tossing a note to Zoe—“it is Doctress Gale.” + </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> + “You meet my virago? Why, I thought you disapproved her entirely.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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—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, “If you will tell me what luggage you + have, the groom shall get it out.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Gale's eyes wandered over him loftily. “I have only a box and a bag, + sir, both marked 'R. G.'” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “Home,” 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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + This deliberate affront was duly felt, but parried with a master-hand. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I <i>am</i> one of the servants,” said he; “only I am not Vizard's. + I'm yours.” + </p> + <p> + “In-deed!” + </p> + <p> + “If you will let me.” + </p> + <p> + “I am too poor to have fine servants.” + </p> + <p> + “Say too haughty. You are not too poor, for I shan't cost you anything but + a gracious word now and then.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately I don't deal in gracious words, only true ones.” + </p> + <p> + “I see that.” + </p> + <p> + “Then suppose you imitate me, and tell me why you came to meet me?” + </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> + “Come now,” said this keen witch, “don't wait to make up a reason. Tell + the truth for once—quick!—quick!—why did <i>you</i> come + to meet <i>me?”</i> + </p> + <p> + “I didn't come to be bullied,” replied supple Severne, affecting + sullenness. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't!” cried the other, acting vast surprise. “Then what <i>did</i> + you come for?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know; and I wish I hadn't come.” + </p> + <p> + “That I believe.” Rhoda shot this in like an arrow. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Uxmoor.” + </p> + <p> + “What kind of a lord is he?” + </p> + <p> + “A very bushy lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Bushy?—oh, bearded like the pard! Now tell me,” said she, “is he + cutting you out with Miss Vizard?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall judge for yourself. Please spare me on that one topic—if + you ever spared anybody in your life.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “Then Heaven forbid you should + ever be my enemy!” said he, sadly, “for I am unhappy enough already.” + </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. “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Fanny, with a glance of defiance at Miss Gale, “if we are to + talk nothing but science, it <i>will</i> be a weary world.” + </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—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. + </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> + “Oh,” cried Miss Gale, “don't anybody speak, please! It is too beautiful!” + </p> + <p> + They respected an enthusiasm so rare in this young lady, and let her + contemplate the scene at her ease. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't, Miss Gale!” said Fanny; “you make my blood run cold.” + </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. “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.” + </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. “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 <i>is</i> a drawback—the boys' faces, + Miss Gale, they <i>are</i> so pasty.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” says Rhoda, pricking up her ears. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “All I know is,” said Zoe, resolutely, “that in Islip the children's faces + are rosy, but here they are pasty—dreadfully pasty.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Rhoda. “Their faces are my business; I'll soon fix them. She + didn't say putty-faced; she said pasty.” + </p> + <p> + “Grateful to you for the distinction, Miss Gale,” 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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Vizard said she did not know, but thought them capable. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What! not on the trees?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Now I think it is quite fair,” said Fanny. “She shuts you up, and so you + lock her up.” + </p> + <p> + “'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.” + </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> + “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. + </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> + “As you please,” said he. “You are terribly in earnest.” + </p> + <p> + “What should I be worth if I was not?' + </p> + <p> + “Well, come and see your shell; and you must tell me if we have forgotten + anything essential to your comfort.” + </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> + “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 <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?” + </p> + <p> + “What! Are <i>you</i> going to gush like the rest—and about + nothing?” said Vizard. “Then I'm off. Come along, Zoe;” 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> + “I thought she was going to gush. But I dare say it was a false alarm.” + </p> + <p> + “And why shouldn't she gush, when you have been so kind?” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>dramatis persona</i>—was not to be a + repetition of you or <i>la</i> Dover, but—ahem—the third + Grace, a virago: solidified vinegar.” + </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, “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? + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “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, + </p> + <h3> + “RHODA GALE.” + </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. + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I can only offer Miss Vizard my escort,” said Lord Uxmoor. + </p> + <p> + “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 + <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—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 <i>all</i> going,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Except one,” said Vizard, dryly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he prefers to visit her alone,” suggested Severne. Zoe looked + alarmed. + </p> + <p> + “That is <i>so,”</i> 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.” + </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. “Sorry to disturb Lord + Uxmoor's monopoly,” said he, sarcastically, “but I could not bear it any + longer.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He makes it rather hard.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + She did not end the sentence. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “For shame, to talk so,” 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—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. + </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. “Very well, my lord,” said + he; “but I have put a spoke in your wheel.” + </p> + <p> + “As if I did not see, you clever creature!” said Fanny, admiringly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Miss Dover, I need to be as clever as you! See what I have against + me: a rich lord, with the bushiest beard.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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 “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. + </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, “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?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Sally. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “What! haant ye heerd about the young 'oman at the farm?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes; we came to see her.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And may I ask what the question was?” + </p> + <p> + “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—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 <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.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell us more about the young lady,” asked Uxmoor. + </p> + <p> + “What young lady? Oh, <i>her.</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>does.”</i> + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>me</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “And really,” said she, “why disturb things? for, go where I will, I see + no such Paradise as these two villages.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I do,” said Zoe, “and I honor you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Miss Vizard,” said Uxmoor, “that is more than I can ever deserve.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “We have caught a + Tartar.” + </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. “For,” said he, “I have + no coach and four, and I am very unhappy.” + </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, “You are very naughty, and very + foolish. Go to bed <i>di-</i>rectly.” 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, “A gentleman to see you, sir.” He presented his salver with a + card upon it. Severne clutched the card, and jumped up, reddening. + </p> + <p> + “Show him in here,” said the hospitable Vizard. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” cried Severne, rather nervously; “it is my lawyer on a little + private business.” + </p> + <p> + Vizard told the servant to show the visitor into the library, and take in + the Madeira and some biscuits. + </p> + <p> + “It is about a lease,” said Ned Severne, and went out rather hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “La!” said Fanny, “what a curious name—Poikilus. And what does S. I. + mean, I wonder?” + </p> + <p> + “This is enigmatical discourse,” said Vizard, dryly. “Please explain.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the card had Poikilus on it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very inquisitive,” said Zoe, coloring. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Said Vizard, “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw that too,” said Fanny, defiantly. + </p> + <p> + Uxmoor put in his word. “Poikilus! That is a name one sees in the papers.” + </p> + <p> + “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>I</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.” + </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—all in seven minutes. Yet + he returned to our party cool as a cucumber, to throw dust in everybody's + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Your lawyer, eh?” said Vizard, slyly. “What is your lawyer's name?” + </p> + <p> + “Jackson,” 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> + “Not quite a gentleman, you know, or I would have inflicted his society on + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite—eh?” 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—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. + </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. “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. + </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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But if she is ill?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “He will not really close the theater,” said she, loftily; but uneasiness + lurked in her manner. + </p> + <p> + “He will,” said Ashmead. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “So many poor people!” said Ina, with a sigh; and her defiant head sunk a + little. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bother <i>them!”</i> said Ashmead, craftily. “Let 'em starve.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “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! + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + One of the paragraphs ran thus, with a heading in small capitals: + </p> + <h3> + “A PRIMA DONNA AT THE GAMBLING TABLE. + </h3> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Another dealt with the matter thus: + </p> + <h3> + “ROUGE ET NOIR. + </h3> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “A DRAMATIC SITUATION. + </h3> + <p> + “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> + “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.” + </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. + “My friend,” said she meekly, “the sum I won was under five thousand + pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” said Ashmead, dryly, “you must expect your capital to increase + rapidly, so long as I conduct it.” + </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 “pauper” meant “drunkard.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not written so in Scripture,” said Ina; “and I need their prayers, + for I am very unhappy.” + </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—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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “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. + </p> + <h3> + “INA KLOSKING.” + </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. “I wish,” said + she, insidiously, “to consult you on a passage or two of this book. How do + you understand this: + </p> + <p> + “'When thou doest thine alms, do not send a trumpet before thee, as the + hypocrites do.' + </p> + <p> + “And this: + </p> + <p> + “'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.'” + </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, “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> + “Be serious, sir. This is a great authority.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “It has given me pain,” said she, sorrowfully. “And I am afraid God will + be angry with us both for our ostentation.” + </p> + <p> + “Not He,” said Joseph, consolingly. “Bless your heart, He is not half so + irritable as the parsons fancy; they confound Him with themselves.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “You never heard it, now—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, no, no! You have not <i>advertised</i> it?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + And Joseph was defiant; and the Klosking shrugged her noble shoulders, and + said, “You best of creatures, you are incurable.” + </p> + <p> + To follow this incident to its conclusion, not a week after this scene, + Ina Klosking detected, in an English paper, + </p> + <h3> + “A CHARITABLE ACT. + </h3> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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—<i>that</i> is not <i>exaggeration;</i> it is + only <i>translation.”</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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but that Miss Vizard called on you. She can't intend to steal him + from you.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Who do you think has sent him?” asked Ina, intently. + </p> + <p> + “The party interested, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Interested in what?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, in the money you won; for he was drawing Karl about that.” + </p> + <p> + “Then <i>he</i> sent the man!” And Ina began to pant and change color. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! my friend,” said Ina, “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.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned her forehead on her white hand, and her face seemed slowly to + fill with intellectual power. + </p> + <p> + “That man,” said she at last, “is the only link between him and me. I must + speak to him.” + </p> + <p> + Then she thought again. + </p> + <p> + “No, not yet. He must be detained in the house. Letters may come to him, + and their postmarks may give us some clew.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll recommend the house to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is not necessary. He will lodge here of his own accord. Does he + know you?” + </p> + <p> + “I think not.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not give him the least suspicion that you know he is a detective.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, I won't.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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—stood + champagne. Ashmead chattered, and seemed quite off his guard. Smith + approached the subject cautiously. “Gamble here as much as ever?” + </p> + <p> + “All day, some of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Ladies and all?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the ladies are the worst.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “No; are they now? Ah, that reminds me. I heard there was a lady in this +very house won a pot o' money.” + </pre> + <p> + “It is true. I am her agent.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose she lost it all next day?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, not all, for she gave a thousand pounds to the poor.” + </p> + <p> + “The dressmakers collared the rest?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What, is she tip-top?” + </p> + <p> + “The most rising singer in Europe.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to see her.” + </p> + <p> + “That you can easily do. She sings tonight. I'll pass you in.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a good fellow. Have a bit of supper with me afterward. Bottle of + fizz.” + </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> + “Introduce me to her,” said Smith. + </p> + <p> + “I dare not do that. You are not professional, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but you can say I am, for a lark.” + </p> + <p> + Ashmead said he should like to; but it would not do, unless he was very + wary. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm fly,” said the other. “She won't get anything out of me. I've + been behind the scenes often enough.” + </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. “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 <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.” + </p> + <p> + Ashmead listened very attentively, and fell into a brown study. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly,” was the frank reply. + </p> + <p> + “And won a million?” + </p> + <p> + “More or less,” said the Klosking, with an open smile. + </p> + <p> + “I hope it was a good lump, for our countrymen leave hundreds of thousands + here every season.” + </p> + <p> + “It was four thousand nine hundred pounds, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Phew! Well, I wish it had been double. You are not so close as our friend + here, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; and shall I tell you why?” + </p> + <p> + “If you like, madam,” said Smith, with assumed indifference. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “I should decline; it might be an <i>escroc.</i> No. Mr. Ashmead here + knows the gentleman. Do you not?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll swear to him anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Then to receive his money he must face the eye of Ashmead. Ha! ha!” + </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> + “Oh, pray don't come here!” cried Ina, in despair. “Do not lose sight of + him for a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me that letter to post, then,” 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, “All right, old man. That is to your sweetheart, or you wouldn't be + in such a hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “No; it was to my grandmother,” said Ashmead. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “All right! Letter to post. Saw address quite plain—Edward Severne, + Esq.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Vizard Court.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Taddington—Barfordshire—England.” + </p> + <p> + Ina, who was standing all on fire, now sat down and interlaced her hands. + “Vizard!” said she, gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>that</i>—” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will forgive him <i>that,”</i> said Ashmead, shaking his head. + </p> + <p> + “Never. Look at me, Joseph Ashmead.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her with some awe, for she seemed transformed, and her Danish + eye gleamed strangely. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She took her desk and wrote, at Ashmead's dictation, + </p> + <p> + “Vizard Court, Taddington, Barfordshire.” + </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—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> + “Mrs. Judge, I declare,” cried Zoe. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, Miss Hannah Judge it is. Your sarvant, ma'am;” 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, “You wonder to see me here, now, doan't ye?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mrs. Judge,” said Zoe, diplomatically, “nobody has a better right + to come.” + </p> + <p> + “You be very good, miss. I don't doubt my welcome nohow.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Zoe, playfully, “you seldom do us the honor; so I <i>am</i> a + little surprised. What can I do for you?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “This is alarming,” said Zoe to Fanny. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>hus.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “La,” said Fanny, “mustn't we visit your parish if we were not born + there?” + </p> + <p> + “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>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—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 <i>was,</i> + not even in my giddy days, but did work hard in my youth, and am respect + for my old age.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, nurse, yes; who doubts it?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Paraphrase for the noun substantive “idiot.” It is also a + specimen of the Greek figure “litotes.” + </pre> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye doan't say so! What, does he hold with female she-doctoresses?” + </p> + <p> + “He wishes to <i>try</i> one. She has his authority.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye doan't say so!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Con—sarn the wench! why couldn't she says so, 'stead o' + hargefying?” + </p> + <p> + “She is a stranger, and means well; so she did not think it necessary. You + must take my word for it.” + </p> + <p> + “La, miss, I'll take your'n before hers, you <i>may</i> be sure,” 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. + “Well, old lady,” said she cheerfully, “and how do you do?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, miss,” said La Judge, obsequiously. “Prevention is better + nor cure, and they say 'a stitch in time saves nine.'” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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: + “Well, old girl, am I to give you my harm round to the kitchen, or do you + know the way by yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Have you got it with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then please hand it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Zoe jealoused a <i>te'te-'a-te'te,</i> and parried it skillfully. “Oh,” + said she, “but we are all much interested: are not you, Lord Uxmoor?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I am,” said Uxmoor. + </p> + <p> + “So am I,” said Fanny, who didn't care a button. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + The acute Mr. Severne, who had been watching her slyly, came to her + assistance. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Gale turned her eyes full on Severne. “You are very keen at reading + people, sir,” said she, dryly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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 <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—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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “At any rate,” said Miss Gale, “the little monster was in the world first; + so he is not an imitation of man's work.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor things!” said womanly Zoe. “What is to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “La!” said Fanny, “throw lime into the ponds. That will kill the monsters, + and cure the old people's bones into the bargain.” + </p> + <p> + This compendious scheme struck the imagination, but did not satisfy the + judgment of the assembly. + </p> + <p> + “Fanny!” said Zoe, reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “That <i>would</i> be killing two birds with one stone,” suggested Uxmoor, + satirically. + </p> + <p> + “The tender mercies of the wicked are cruel,” 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>“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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “She does <i>so,”</i> said the virago. “Now look here, good people.” + </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> + “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—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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the remedy is like the discussion,” 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. “Of course it is, to <i>children,”</i> 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!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Three hundred and thirty feet, or thereabouts.” + </p> + <p> + “No more? Any idea what it will cost?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, this is Detail made woman. How do you know all this?” + </p> + <p> + “From Tom Wilder.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I had not the honor.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “She has inspected our rent-roll, now,” said Vizard, pathetically: “and + knows nothing about the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Stop a bit,” said Vizard. “Miss Gale has not reported on Islip yet.” + </p> + <p> + “No, dear; but she has looked into everything, for Mrs. Judge told me. You + have been into the cottages?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Into Marks's?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have been into Marks's.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw—three generations.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! La! did you now? And what were they all doing?” + </p> + <p> + “They were all living together, night and day, in one room.” + </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. “Confound the brutes!” said he. “Why, I built them a new + room; a larger one: didn't you see it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. They stack their potatoes in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Just like my people,” said Uxmoor. “That is the worst of it: they resist + their own improvement.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Vizard, more candid and open to new truths, shrugged his shoulders, and + said, “What can I do more than I have done?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “May I ask what?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll build it so—if I build it at all,” said Vizard, dryly. + “What next?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + At this last proposal, Squire Vizard—the truth must be told—delivered + a long, plowman's whistle at the head of his own table. + </p> + <p> + “Pheugh!” said he; “for a lady that is more than half republican, you seem + to be taking very kindly to monarchial tyranny.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “With a female viceroy over him, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Vizard listened civilly, and, as she stopped, requested her to go on. + </p> + <p> + “I think we have had enough,” said Zoe, bitterly. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda, who was in love with Zoe, hung her head, and said, “Yes; I have + been very bold.” + </p> + <p> + “Fiddlestick!” said Vizard. “Never mind those girls. <i>You</i> speak out + like a man: a stranger's eye always discovers things that escape the + natives. Proceed.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I won't proceed till I have explained to Miss Vizard.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a pin,” said Fanny, with admirable frankness. + </p> + <p> + “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 <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.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Vizard blushed crimson at this sudden revelation. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + The enthusiast rose from the table in her excitement, and her face was + transfigured; she looked beautiful for the moment. + </p> + <p> + “I'll do it,” shouted Vizard; “and you are a trump.” + </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, “Oh + dear! she is going to faint <i>now.”</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, “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! + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “They'll give as much milk as twelve cows without the well,” 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, “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> + “'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.'” + </p> + <p> + Zoe looked puzzled, and Fanny inquired what language that was. + </p> + <p> + “Very good language.” + </p> + <p> + “Then perhaps you will translate it into language one can understand.” + </p> + <p> + “The English of the day, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Miss Gale, which do you admire most, Lord Uxmoor or Mr. Severne?” + </p> + <p> + “For their looks?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Severne.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't admire beards, then?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But you must not fall in love with him,” said Fanny. + </p> + <p> + “I do not mean to,” said Rhoda. “Falling in love is not my business: and + if it was, I should not select Mr. Severne.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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, “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.” + </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—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> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </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. “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.” + </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, “What, going already?” 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—a coincidence that made both girls smile; he hoped Miss + Vizard was not too tired to take another turn. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no!” said Zoe: “are you, Fanny?” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and so he ought,” said Ned. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “La! there was a look for you!” said Fanny, pertly: “as if I cared for her + black brows.” + </p> + <p> + “I do, though: pray remember that.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain it to me, then.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but I don't know—” + </p> + <p> + “Which of your fibs it was.” + </p> + <p> + Another silver burst of laughter. But Zoe only vouchsafed a slightly + contemptuous movement of her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Well, no,” said Severne, half laughing himself at the sprightly jade's + smartness. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, that friend of yours that called at luncheon.” + </p> + <p> + Severne turned grave directly. “Yes,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “You said he was your lawyer, and came about a lease.” + </p> + <p> + “So he did.” + </p> + <p> + “And his name was Jackson. + </p> + <p> + “So it was.” + </p> + <p> + “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—if you can—what + ever did you want with Poikilus?” + </p> + <p> + Severne looked aghast. He faltered out, “Why, how could they know?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he advertises, stupid! and Lord Uxmoor and Harrington had seen it. + Gentlemen <i>read</i> advertisements. That is one of their peculiarities.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Fanny colored a little, but said, hastily, “Ah, that I could not tell + you.” + </p> + <p> + “The footman, perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “I should not wonder.” (What is a fib?) + </p> + <p> + “Curse him!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't swear at the servants; that is bad taste.” + </p> + <p> + “Not when he has ruined me?” + </p> + <p> + “Ruined you?—nonsense! Make up some other fib, and excuse the + first.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Stuff and nonsense!” said Fanny Dover. “Be a man, and tell me the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “I will do it,” said he; “but she shuns me. I can't get a word with her.” + </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> + “Did he explain it to you?” asked Zoe, rather sharply. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is the interpretation you put.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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, “I need not make opportunities; after to-morrow he + will find plenty.” + </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. + “What is that?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “It is a letter,” 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"> + “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 <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> + “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> + “Your faithful servant and devoted admirer, + </p> + <h3> + “UXMOOR.” + </h3> + <p> + “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 <i>could</i> not.” + </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—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> + “Well?” said she, with a world of meaning. + </p> + <p> + “You grant me a hearing at last.” + </p> + <p> + “I do. But it is no use. You cannot explain away a falsehood.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He had nothing to do with it. I should have been just as much shocked.” + </p> + <p> + “But it would only have been for five minutes. Zoe!” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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, “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “True; I forgot that. Recrimination is not convenient, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I can escape it by shutting the window,” said Zoe, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “The detective?” said Zoe, sternly. + </p> + <p> + “I sent for him, and gave him his instructions, and he is gone for me to + Homburg.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I thought so. What for?” + </p> + <p> + “About my money. To try and find out whether they mean to keep it.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you really take it if they would give it you?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I would.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet you know my mind about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you forbade me to go for it in person: and I obeyed you, did I + not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you did—at the time.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Zoe looked amazed at being defied. It was new to her. She drew up, but + said nothing. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not the way to my affection. I do not care for money.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Edward,” said she, softly. + </p> + <p> + “Zoe!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He clasped his hands with gratitude. + </p> + <p> + “Edward, will you grant me a favor?” + </p> + <p> + “Can you ask?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What! go and leave you alone with Lord Uxmoor?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Zoe, you know your power. Have a little mercy.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I may have a great deal—if you obey me.” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>will</i> obey you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then go to bed this minute.” + </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, “Any + messages for Hillstoke? I am going to walk up there this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Embrace my virago for me,” 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, “What do you want?” 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> + “Oh! that alters the case; any messenger from Miss Vizard is welcome. Did + she send me those flowers, too? They are beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I gathered them myself. I have always understood ladies loved + flowers.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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. “What! are you there + still?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said be; “you did not dismiss me; only my poor flowers.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said she, apologetically, “the truth is, I'm not strong enough to + dismiss you by the same road.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not necessary. You have only to say, 'Go.'” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that would be rude. Could not you go without being told right out?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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> + “To Mr. Vizard's housekeeper, Vizard Court: + </p> + <p> + “Please give the bearer two pounds of good roast beef or mutton, not + salted, and one pint port wine, + </p> + <h3> + “RHODA GALE, M. D.” + </h3> + <p> + “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 <i>them</i> the paper. Don't you give it up without the meat. Take + this basket on your arm.” + </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. “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—you + and your vices?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. But I think <i>you</i> will; and I hope so; for you go about + doing good.” + </p> + <p> + “And some people one could name go about doing mischief?” + </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, “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.” + </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> + “Well, good people,” said Miss Gale, “what are you making a fuss about? + Are they better in the boy or out of him?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Catch me the boy,” 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> + “Don't be frightened, Jacob,” said the doctress. “I only want to know + whether you feel better or worse.” + </p> + <p> + His mother put in her word: “He was ever so bad all the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold your jaw,” said old Giles, “and let the boy tell his own tale.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll prescribe accordingly,” 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> + “No, thank you,” said the doctress. “He will go alone, you young monkeys. + Your turn will come.” + </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. “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.” + </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, “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. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>her,</i> you understand.” + </p> + <p> + He returned to her directly, and said, in most earnest, supplicating + tones, “But will you ever forgive me?” + </p> + <p> + “I will try.” + </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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Uxmoor, piteously. + </p> + <p> + “You are worthy of any lady's love; but I have only my esteem to give you, + and that was given long ago.” + </p> + <p> + Uxmoor, who had been gradually turning very white, faltered, “I had my + fears. Good-by.” + </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, + “God bless you!” + </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 “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.” + </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> “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.” + </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—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. “Small and great, I + take them,” 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. “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Only a small estate, worth eight thousand pounds, that I hope to clear of + all incumbrances, if I can get my money.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “This is a beautiful world, isn't it?” said he, with more tenderness than + cynicism this time. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + He gazed at it, and they at him and it. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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> + “Tell Mr. Severne,” said Zoe. “He is in the dining-room, I think.” + </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> + “Miss Vizard?” said she. + </p> + <p> + Zoe took a step toward her and said, with astonishment, “Mademoiselle + Klosking!” + </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> + “You have a visitor—Mr. Severne?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Zoe, drawing up. + </p> + <p> + “Can I speak with him?” + </p> + <p> + “He will answer for himself. EDWARD!” + </p> + <p> + At her call Severne came out hastily behind Ina Klosking. + </p> + <p> + She turned, and they faced each other. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” 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: “What!—Edward!—Mr. + Severne!—Has this lady still any right—” + </p> + <p> + “No, none whatever!” he cried; “it is all past and gone.” + </p> + <p> + “What is past?” said Ina Klosking, grandly. “Are you out of your senses?” + </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. “Speak before this lady,” + she cried. “Have—I—no—rights—over you?” 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. “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. + </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. “What is the matter?” he cried. “A woman killed?” + </p> + <p> + Some one cried out she had fallen. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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, “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. + </p> + <p> + Wheels ground the gravel. Servants flew to the door, crying, “The doctor! + the doctor!” + </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, “Ah! Help!—she is bleeding to death!” + </p> + <p> + “She shall not,” said Rhoda. Then to one footman, “Bring a footstool, <i>you;”</i> + to another, <i>“You</i> bring me a cork;” to Vizard, <i>“You</i> hold her + toward me so. Now sponge the wound.” + </p> + <p> + 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, <i>you,</i> + till I want it.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.”' + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and, Harris, pack up Mr. Severne's things, and bring them down here + this moment.” + </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—ghastly pale, and glaring straight before her. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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—hurried + whispers—and everybody walking softly, and scared—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—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> + “What is it?” he faltered. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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—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. “But,” said she, “don't ask her to come down. She is ashamed + to look anybody in the face, poor girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? what has <i>she</i> done?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Harrington, she has made no secret of her affection; and now, at + sight of that woman, he has abandoned her.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell her I love her more than I ever did, and respect her more. Where is + her pride?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What! love him still, after what he has done?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! She interprets it this way and that. She cannot bear to believe + another woman has any real right to separate them.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “What friend?” + </p> + <p> + “That,” said Miss Gale, “I will tell you by-and-by. You are in good hands, + and I am your physician.” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard your voice before,” said Ina, “but I know not where; and it + is so dark! Why is it so dark?” + </p> + <p> + “Because too much light is not good for you. You have met with an + accident.” + </p> + <p> + “What accident, madam?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?—<i>Ah!”</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, “I ought to go and + see her;” and Fanny had said, “Of course you ought.” + </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 “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. + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + <i>“Struck down by the very hand that was vowed to protect me!”</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, “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—<i>my brother's guest.”</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. “No, no; go to <i>her,</i> like all + the rest, and leave poor Zoe all alone. She <i>is</i> alone.” + </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. “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.” + </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. “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.” + </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> + “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. + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I do her no good,” said Zoe, half sullenly, half trembling. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed you do not,” said Rhoda, bluntly, and almost bitterly. She was all + nurse. + </p> + <p> + “I'll come here no more,” said Zoe, sadly but sternly, and left the room. + </p> + <p> + Then Ina turned to Miss Gale and said, patiently, “I hope I was not rude + to that lady—who has broken my heart.” + </p> + <p> + Fanny and Rhoda took each a hand and told her she could not be rude to + anybody. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Then Fanny showed a deal of tact. <i>“Her</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + “You flatter me,” said Ina, sadly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! It is Ina Klosking that was. Please bring me a glass.” + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>fanatico per la musica;</i> 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 <i>here are + the pearls.”</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—“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.'” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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, “The master of + the house—what is his name?” + </p> + <p> + “Harrington Vizard.” + </p> + <p> + “What!—<i>her</i> father?” + </p> + <p> + “La, no; only her half-brother.” + </p> + <p> + “If he is so kind to me because I sing, why comes he not to see me? <i>She</i> + has come.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “It is his room.” + </p> + <p> + “He would say that, while you occupy it, it is yours, and not his.” + </p> + <p> + “He awaits my invitation, then.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say he would come if you were to invite him, but certainly not + without.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to see him who has been so kind to me, and so loves music; but not + to-day—I feel unable.” + </p> + <p> + The next day she asked for a glass, and was distressed at her appearance. + She begged for a cap. + </p> + <p> + “What kind of a cap?” asked Fanny. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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—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.” + </p> + <p> + “Has she spoken of him to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not once.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why should she to me?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Oh, Miss Gale will do that, you may be sure,” 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> + “A seat,” said she, softly. + </p> + <p> + Fanny was for putting one close to her. “No,” said Miss Gale, “lower down; + then she need not to turn her head.” + </p> + <p> + So he sat down nearer her feet. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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, “She is going upon dangerous ground.” + </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, “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Siebel.” + </p> + <p> + “Only Siebel! why, that is a poor little thing.” + </p> + <p> + “So <i>I</i> thought, till I heard you sing it.” + </p> + <p> + “And, after Siebel, you bought my photograph.” + </p> + <p> + “Instantly.” + </p> + <p> + “And wasted pearls on it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, madam. I wasted it on pearls.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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, “If I live, I must live for my art + alone.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Gale saw her approaching a dangerous topic, so she said, hastily, + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall be a little stronger every three days. There are always ups and + downs in convalescence.” + </p> + <p> + “When shall I be strong enough to move?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me answer that question,” said Vizard. “When you are strong enough to + sing us Siebel's great song.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Now we have settled that,” said Vizard, “my mind is more at ease, and I + will retire.” + </p> + <p> + “One moment,” said Ina, turning to him. Then, in a low and very meaning + voice, <i>“There is something else.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my kind host. Oblige me with your hand.” + </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> + “You naughty patient,” said she; “you must do nothing to excite yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Sweet physician, loving nurse, I am not excited.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Gale felt her heart to see. + </p> + <p> + “Gratitude does not excite,” said Ina. “It is too tame a feeling in the + best of us.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Should I?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Do brothers, when a woman is?” said Fanny. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say they go for as much as they are worth.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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, “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course she is. She is your fellow-victim, if you would only let + yourself see it.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Fled the country, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure he is not lurking about?” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “To get a word with Zoe—alone.” + </p> + <p> + “He will not come near this. I will break every bone in his skin if he + does.” + </p> + <p> + “But he is so sly; he might hang about.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + Fanny said that was capital, and, altogether, he had set her mind at rest. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “The idea! Why, I have publicly disowned goodness again and again. You + have heard me.” + </p> + <p> + “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—and trimmings. You have been passing + yourself off for a naughty girl, and all the time you were an extra good + one.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>you</i> will give <i>me</i> + a cigarette.” + </p> + <p> + “What! another hidden virtue? You smoke?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I, except when I happen to be with a noble soul who won't tell.” + </p> + <p> + Vizard found her a Russian cigarette, and lighted his own cigar, and she + lectured as follows: + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>en famille,</i> 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!” + </p> + <p> + “Shall you not be sorry when they both get well, and Routine recommences?” + </p> + <p> + “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.—Ah!—there, I have burned my finger.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. That is exciting.” + </p> + <p> + “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 <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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I will.” + </p> + <p> + “And then let me have her up at Hillstoke. She is beginning to love me, + and I dote on her.” + </p> + <p> + “So do I.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but you must not.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, why not?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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—Miss + Maitland taken seriously ill, and had written to Zoe. + </p> + <p> + “Poor old soul!” said Vizard. “I have a great mind to ride over and see + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Somebody ought to go,” said Fanny. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you go.” + </p> + <p> + “How can I—with Zoe, and Mademoiselle Klosking, and you, to look + after?” + </p> + <p> + “Instead of one old woman. Not much excitement in that.” + </p> + <p> + “No, cousin. To think of your remembering! Why, you must have gone to bed + sober.” + </p> + <p> + “I often do.” + </p> + <p> + “You were always an eccentric landowner.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you talk. You are a caricature.” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “You are fond of music, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Not of all music. I adore good music, I hate bad, and I despise mediocre. + Silence is golden, indeed, compared with poor music.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, sir. Have you good music in the house?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “We will bring you up a dozen books to begin on.” + </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. “My poor child,” said he, “you look very ill.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very ill, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you not be better for a change?” + </p> + <p> + “I might.” + </p> + <p> + “Why coop yourself up in your own room? Why deny yourself a brother's + sympathy?” + </p> + <p> + The girl trembled, and tears came to her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Is it with me you sympathize?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Can you doubt it, Zoe?” + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>her.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Nothing in the way of music-books is too good for her. For shame! are you + jealous of that unfortunate lady?” + </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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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, “I'll cure her with esculents and music.” + </p> + <p> + The book was taken away to make room for another. + </p> + <p> + Then said Ina Klosking, “Mr. Vizard, I desire to say a word to you. Excuse + me, my dear friends.” + </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, “Remember!” + </p> + <p> + When they had withdrawn a little way, Ina Klosking fixed her eyes on + Vizard, and said, in a low voice, “Your sister!” + </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. “Tell + me something about her. Is she good? Forgive me: it is not that I doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “She is good, according to her lights.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she proud?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she just?” + </p> + <p> + “No. And I never met a woman that was.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed it is rare. Why does she not visit me?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know” + </p> + <p> + “She blames me for all that has happened.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Since I was your patient and your guest.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray do not conclude from that—Who can interpret a woman?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “I will speak to my sister, and she shall visit you—with the consent + of your physician.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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. “Harrington,” said she, in + rather a commanding way, “Aunt Maitland is ill, and I wish to go to her.” + </p> + <p> + Harrington stared at her with surprise. “You are not well enough + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite well enough in body to go anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but—” said Harrington. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. “Not just now, dear,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “What! am I to wait till she dies?” cried Zoe, getting agitated at his + opposition. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You would have sent her to an inn, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but Miss Gale offered to take her.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I am to understand that you propose to mark your reprobation of my + conduct by leaving my house.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “You shall go, Zoe. But I tell you plainly, this step will be a blow to + our affection—the first.” + </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 “Fox,” 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, “What! are you going with me, dear, all + that way?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to save appearances,” 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, + “Harrington.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “You were right. Cooping one's self up is the way to go mad.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel a little better now—a very little.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of it.” + </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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, we are only six miles from the place.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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. “Do you remember meeting + a young fellow at my house, called Severne?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said Lord Uxmoor, dryly enough. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he has turned out an impostor.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “A forger! What, a criminal?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that likely?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “And perhaps you will be good enough to keep your eye on her.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel much honored by such a commission. But you have not told me where + Miss Vizard is.” + </p> + <p> + “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—' + </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.” + </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, “But I have nothing to get well for.” + </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—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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I think it was once, but it has had its day.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said she, gravely, “I have nothing better to live for now than to + interpret good music worthily.” + </p> + <p> + There was a painful silence. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “O lacrymarum fons, tenero sacros Ducemtium ortus ex animo, quater Felix, + in imo qui scatentem Pectore, te, pia nympha, sensit.” + </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; “for,” said she, “these are things to be digested.” + </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—“My Song shall be of Mercy and + Judgment.” + </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, “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Whom do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Your sister.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, she is not in the house.” + </p> + <p> + Ina Klosking started at that information, and bent her eyes keenly and + inquiringly on him. + </p> + <p> + “She left two days ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “To nurse a sick aunt.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! Had she no other reason?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that I know of,” said Vizard; but he could not help coloring a + little. + </p> + <p> + The little choir now sung a service, King in F. They sung “The Magnificat” + rudely, and rather profanely, but recovered themselves in the “Dimittis.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it might,” whispered Vizard; “so you have something to get well + for.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my friend—thanks to you and your sainted mother.” + </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—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> + “When <i>can</i> I?” she inquired, rather timidly. + </p> + <p> + “Every day, if you like—Sundays and all.” + </p> + <p> + “I must be content with every other day.” + </p> + <p> + Vizard said he would arrange it so, and was leaving her; but she begged + him to stay a moment. + </p> + <p> + “She would be safer here,” 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, “She is safe + enough. I have taken care of that, you may be sure.” + </p> + <p> + “You have done well, sir,” 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. “Where is + Miss Vizard?” said she, quietly. + </p> + <p> + Fanny colored up; but seeing in a moment that fibs would be dangerous, + said, mighty carelessly, “She is at Aunt Maitland's.” + </p> + <p> + “Where does <i>she</i> live, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “In a poky little place called 'Somerville Villa.'” + </p> + <p> + “Far from this?” + </p> + <p> + “Not very. It is forty miles by the railway, but not thirty by the road; + and Zoe went in the barouche all the way.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “There is little hope of that. I am past pain.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then—Miss Gale will scold me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, she shall not.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Ina Klosking shook her head. “When a man is in love with such a woman as + that, dangers could hardly deter him.” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>me</i>—an earl's coronet and + twenty thousand a year!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said Fanny, coloring up. <i>“She</i> told me not.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the Vixen in command. She orders everybody.” + </p> + <p> + “And why did she forbid you?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Fanny looked up at her inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said she; “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—and leave it.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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— + </p> + <h3> + “MR. JOSEPH ASHMEAD.” + </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 “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. + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Vizard maintained a grim silence. + </p> + <p> + “You may have heard of her.” + </p> + <p> + “I have.” + </p> + <p> + “I almost fancy you once heard her sing—at Homburg.” + </p> + <p> + “I did.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What blackguard, sir?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not, sir. I am her theatrical agent.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Ashmead stared at him, and then broke out, “In this house! O Lord! How can + that be?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I am, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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, “Do you approve that, my friend?” + </p> + <p> + “If it pleases you, madam,” replied the wary Ashmead. + </p> + <p> + “It does more than please me; it does me good.” + </p> + <p> + “That reconciles me to it at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then you do not admire it for itself.” + </p> + <p> + “Not—very—much.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, speak plainly. I am not a tyrant, to impose my tastes.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + Vizard assented warmly. Ashmead asked permission to hear another. They + sung the “Magnificat” by King, in F. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word,” said Ashmead, “there is a deal of 'go' in that.” + </p> + <p> + Then they sung the “Nuno Dimittis.” He said, a little dryly, there was + plenty of repose in that. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, madam.” said Ashmead. “When I doubted its being good + music, I suppose I meant salable.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, <i>voil'a!”</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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 “Swan” his headquarters. “I + shall be at your service all the same, sir, or Mademoiselle Klosking's.” + </p> + <p> + “Have a glass of Madeira, Mr. Ashmead.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, to tell the truth, I have had one or two.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it knows the road.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is like ourselves, improved by traveling. That has been twice to + India.” + </p> + <p> + “It will never go again past me,” said Ashmead, gayly. “My mouth is a cape + it will never weather.” + </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> + “Hamper—for Joseph Ashmead, Esquire.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything to pay?” + </p> + <p> + “What for?—it's from Vizard Court.” + </p> + <p> + And the dog-cart rattled away. + </p> + <p> + Joseph was in the hall, and witnessed this phenomenon. He said to himself, + “I wish I had a vast acquaintance—ALL COUNTRY GENTLEMEN.” + </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> + “To-morrow,” said she, “I will have but one live crutch. I must and will + recover my strength.” + </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>“Our</i> 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 <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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Vizard, “you know what to do—retard the cure. That is + one of the arts of your profession.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Vizard looked puzzled. “This,” said he “sounds like a riddle, or female + logic.” + </p> + <p> + “It is both,” said Rhoda. “Miss Dover, give him the <i>mot d'e'nigme.</i> + I'm off—to the patient I adore.” + </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, “Mademoiselle Klosking has + taken into her head that Zoe will never return to this house while she is + in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Who put that into her head, now?” said Vizard, bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody, upon my honor. A woman's instinct.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “They are both getting cured, and neither will ever see the villain + again.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” 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 <i>will</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + Vizard groaned aloud, and at that a tear or two rolled down Fanny's + burning cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “You are a good little girl,” said Vizard, affectionately; “but I <i>cannot.”</i> + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh dear, no.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind writing to Aunt Maitland, and saying you would like to + take Zoe's place?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, about the end of the week.” + </p> + <p> + “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—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.” + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Going to dine in half an hour. Roast gosling. Just enough for two.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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—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: “Been long here?” + </p> + <p> + “Just come.” + </p> + <p> + “Business?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Want to see if there's any chance of my getting paid for that job.” + </p> + <p> + “What job?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, honor bright!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I am a detective.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye don't mean that?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm Poikilus.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't say that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; that beautiful lady, the singer, you saw in Homburg.” + </p> + <p> + “What! the lady that said he should have his money?” + </p> + <p> + “The same.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he must be mad.” + </p> + <p> + “No. A scoundrel. <i>That is all.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Then she won't give him his money after that.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if I can help it. But if she likes to pay you your commission, I + shall not object to that.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a good fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “What is more, I shall see her to-morrow, and I will put the question to + her for you.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Where to?” + </p> + <p> + “How should I know? What is that to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you see? Wherever she is, he won't be far off. He likes her + best, don't he?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And serve him right. Still, I wish I knew where that young lady is.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say I could learn if I made it my business.” + </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> + “Indeed!” said the Klosking. “Please tell me every word that passed + between you.” + </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, “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What fifty pounds? His fifty pounds is a falsehood, like himself. Now, my + friend, please take my instructions, my positive instructions.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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, “Oh, + by-the-by, I asked after that poor young lady. Gone to Ireland, but they + didn't know what part.” + </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, “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.” + </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—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—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— + </p> + <h3> + “LORD UXMOOR.” + </h3> + <p> + The color died away directly. “Say I am very sorry, but at this moment I + cannot leave my aunt.” + </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. “You are + not well,” he said, in tones of tenderness and dismay. + </p> + <p> + “Not very,” she faltered; for his open manly concern touched her. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I am much obliged to you. No.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I forgot. You have a physician of your own sex. Why is she not + looking after you?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw her at Homburg.” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>Music.”</i> + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think <i>you</i> can cure me?” said Zoe, satirically. + </p> + <p> + “It does seem presumptuous. But, at least, I could do you a little good if + you could be got to try my humble prescription.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” asked Zoe, listlessly. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “If you like. Rosa <i>would</i> pack up my riding-habit.” + </p> + <p> + “Rosa was a prophetess.” + </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> + “Well?” said she. “Don't you like galloping?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I don't like cruelty.” + </p> + <p> + “Cruelty?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll never ride her again,” said Zoe. “I did not come here to be scolded. + I will go home.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + “Good-by,” said he, in the same tone. Only he sent the mare next day, and + followed her on a young thorough-bred. + </p> + <p> + “What!” said Zoe; “am I to have another trial?” + </p> + <p> + “And another after that.” + </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, “You are not the only lady who takes a horse for a machine.” + </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—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, “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. + </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—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, “I am gone for a walk, if anybody calls.” + </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 “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. + </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. “Run to the gate, Zoe!” he roared. Whack! + whack! whack!—“Run to the gate, I tell you!”—whack!—whack!—whack!—whack!—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> + “Have you got over your fright?” said he; “that is the question.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes! yes! It is only you I am alarmed for. It is much better I should + be killed than you.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, but not that way; that is the way the monster went!” quivered + Zoe. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he has had enough of us.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have had too much of him. Take me some other road—a hundred + miles round. How I tremble!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “I shall be very glad,” 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. + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall live, and see it, dear aunt,” said Zoe, kissing her. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “That I cannot do,” said Uxmoor; “so I must ask your leave to be + ambitious. Let me try and conquer your affection.” + </p> + <p> + “As you conquered the bull?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; only not so rudely, nor so quickly, I'll be bound.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “May I try?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Zoe, bushing carnation. + </p> + <p> + “May I come every day?” + </p> + <p> + “Twice a day, if you like.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I shall succeed—in time.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you may.” + </p> + <p> + Then he kissed her hand devotedly—the first time in his life—and + went away on wings. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>he</i> + will understand it that I consent to receive his addresses as my lover. + Not that I really said so.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope,” said Aunt Maitland, “that you have committed yourself somehow or + other, and cannot go back.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I have. Yes; it is all over. I cannot go back now.” + </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—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. “Why do you come here?” + </h3> + <p> + “Because <i>you</i> are here.” + </p> + <p> + “And how dare you come where I am?—now your falsehood is found out + and flung into my very face!” + </p> + <p> + “I have never been false to you. At this moment I suffer for my fidelity.” + </p> + <p> + <i>“You</i> suffer? I am glad of it. How?” + </p> + <p> + “In many ways: but they are all light, compared with my fear of losing + your love.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>must</i> + despise me. You have a right to despise me.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I know I ought.” + </p> + <p> + “Then do what you ought. Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot. I hate her.” + </p> + <p> + “What, because you have broken her heart, and nearly killed her?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but because she has come between me and the only woman I ever really + loved, or ever can.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “A falsehood!—Me!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + This staggered Zoe a moment; so did the heat and sense of injustice he + threw into his voice. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You dare to tell me that. Well, at all events, it is the truth. Why did + you leave her, then?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “Have you written to her since + you behaved like a ruffian to her?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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 + <i>me?</i> Had a mind to be impartial, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “I had reason to believe it would have been intercepted.” + </p> + <p> + “For shame! Vizard is incapable of such a thing.” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>her</i> he hates me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, no!” cried Zoe. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I did look out ever so often.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She took them and read them. A hot flush mounted to her cheek. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>you.</i> I will take my broken heart quietly away, and leave + Barfordshire, and England, and the world, for aught I care.” + </p> + <p> + Then he cried: and that made her cry directly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why too late?” + </p> + <p> + “It is.” + </p> + <p> + “But why?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ladies never think of such things. You know that very well.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. I am so young and inexperienced, and all my friends against you. + It is they who have parted us.” + </p> + <p> + “How can they part us, if you love me still as I love you?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I see; you are false to me, and therefore you have suspected me of being + false to you.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “What! your paleness, that dark rim under your lovely eyes—am I the + cause?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed you are. But I forgive you. You are sadly pale and worn too. Oh, + how unfortunate we are!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the truth is, Lord Uxmoor has renewed his attention to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “He has been here every day.” + </p> + <p> + Severne groaned. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I am; so now I can go neither way. If I had poison, I would take it this + moment, and end all.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>can</i> I do?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, first, what you have said to him that you consider so + compromising.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “And a very proper answer, too.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “When did you say this?” + </p> + <p> + “This very day.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he has never acted on it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, but he will. He will be here tomorrow for certain.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't reproach <i>me.</i> I won't bear it,” she cried, wildly. + </p> + <p> + “I hope not to have to reproach you,” said he, firmly; “I cannot conceive + your hesitating.” + </p> + <p> + “I am worn out. Love has been too great a torment. Oh, if I could find + peace!” + </p> + <p> + Again her tears flowed. + </p> + <p> + He put on a sympathizing air. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Edward, if I do this, you ought to love me very dearly.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall. Better than ever—if possible.” + </p> + <p> + “And never make me jealous again.” + </p> + <p> + “I never shall, dearest. Our troubles are over.” + </p> + <p> + “Edward, I have been very unhappy. I could not bear these doubts again.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall never be unhappy again.” + </p> + <p> + “I must do what you require, I suppose. That is how it always ends. Oh + dear! oh dear!” + </p> + <p> + “Zoe, it must be done. You know it must.” + </p> + <p> + “I warn you I shall do it as kindly as I can.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you will. You ought to.” + </p> + <p> + “I must go in now. I feel very cold.” + </p> + <p> + “How soon to-morrow will you meet me here?” + </p> + <p> + “When you please,” said she, languidly. + </p> + <p> + “At ten o'clock?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </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. “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.” + </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> + “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. + </p> + <h3> + “ZOE VIZARD.” + </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—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, “When you are quite sure of the + prize, tell me, and I will call upon her.” + </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 “Zoe + Vizard;” 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> + “You are a woman too,” said he, a little helplessly. “Tell me—what + on earth does this mean?” + </p> + <p> + The dowager read it slowly and keenly, and said, “It means—another + man.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Uxmoor, with a sort of snarl. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen any one about her?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “An unworthy attachment, in short?” + </p> + <p> + “Very unworthy, if it was an attachment at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he at Vizard Court when she declined your hand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he remain, after you went?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so. Yes, he must have.” + </p> + <p> + “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> + “I had better go abroad,” said Uxmoor, with a groan. “This country is + poisoned for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Go, by all means. Let Janneway pack up your things to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to kill that fellow first.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not even waste a thought on him, if you are my son.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, mother. What am I to say to her?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a word.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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: + </p> + <p> + “Le bruit est pour le fat, la plainte est pour le sot; L'honnete homme + trompe'; s'e'loigne, et ne dit mot.” + </p> + <p> + “You will make a tour, and not say a word to Miss Vizard, good, bad, nor + indifferent. I insist upon that.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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, + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my laud. Certainly, my laud. Please step in the morning-room, my + laud. Mr. Vizard is out.” + </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. “And he will have her, too,” + 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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda colored high at the compliment. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Going abroad?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “A little better, I think, than when she came.” + </p> + <p> + “Does she know you are going abroad?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I don't think she does, yet. It was settled all in a hurry.” + </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> + “Well, dear,” said Fanny, “what did he say to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Something that has surprised and puzzled me very much.” 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> + “I don't know that,” said Fanny, stoutly. “Oh, Miss Gale, did you not ask + him about her?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I did; and he said she was better than when she first came.” + </p> + <p> + “There!” 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. + “Suppose I were to invite you to dinner, what would you say?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I should say, 'To-morrow.'” + </p> + <p> + “And a very good answer, too. To-morrow shall be a <i>fete.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “You spoil me?” + </p> + <p> + “That is impossible.” + </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—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. + </p> + <p> + Fanny carried this in triumph to the other ladies, and read it out. + “There!” said she. “Didn't I tell you?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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. “It is a good hand,” she said; “nothing mean there.” 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. “I think,” said she, “I have + heard you say you were once an actor.” + </p> + <p> + “I was, madam, and a very good one, too.” + </p> + <p> + <i>“Cela va sans dire.</i> I never knew one that was not. At all events, + you can disguise yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything, madam, from Grandfather Whitehead to a boy in a pinafore. + Famous for my make-ups.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you to watch a certain house, and not be recognized by a person + who knows you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, madam, nothing is <i>infra dig,</i> if done for you; nothing is + distasteful if done for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my friend. I have thought it well to put my instructions on + paper.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, that is the best way.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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—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—for she was completely mistress of her time—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, “How old are you, old + man?” + </p> + <p> + “I be ninety, measter, next Martinmas-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Only ninety?” said our Adonis, contemptuously; “you look a hundred and + ninety.” + </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> + “Say a month hence,” said he. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>par + ordonnance du me'decin.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “My physician is reconciled to my going. We must all bow to necessity.” + </p> + <p> + This was said too firmly to admit a reply. “The old house will seem very + dark again whenever you do go,” said Vizard, plaintively. + </p> + <p> + “It will soon be brightened by her who is its true and lasting light,” 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> + “This will not do,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “It will pass, my friend,” said Ina. “I will sleep.” + </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. “I keep to the letter of the + contract,” said she. “My friends, this is my last night at Vizard Court.” + </p> + <p> + “Please try and shake that resolution,” said Vizard, gravely, to + Mesdemoiselles Dover and Gale. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Then she sung Handel's song: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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—a very rare occurrence. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said she; “that was the hand could brandish Goliath's spear.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I wish I could. But I cannot. I must not. My Fate forbids it.” + </p> + <p> + “'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.” + </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. “There,” said she, “now you + cannot go. He is very angry.” + </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> + “When does your Royal Highness propose to start?” inquired Rhoda Gale, + very obsequiously, and just a little bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow at half-past nine o'clock, dear friend,” said Ina. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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> + “He must be very angry,” said Fanny, in a half whisper. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot go while he is,” sighed La Klosking. “There is a limit even to + my courage.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Harris,” said Rhoda, “would you mind telling Mr. Vizard?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + This was not encouraging. Yet the Klosking quietly inquired where he was. + </p> + <p> + “In there, ma'am,” said Harris. “In his study.” + </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. “I wonder whether he will tell + <i>her</i> to go to the devil,” said Fanny, who was getting tired of being + good. + </p> + <p> + “No use,” said Miss Gale; “she doesn't know the road.” + </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, “Here is a culprit come to try and + appease you.” + </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, “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! why say it gives me pleasure? my friend, you cannot really think so.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what to think. You ladies are all riddles.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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> + “Ah, monsieur,” said she, “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.” + </p> + <p> + She had opened the door, and Vizard could now escape. His obstinacy and + his heart would not let him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no more! no more, pray!” cried Mademoiselle Klosking. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “YOUR WIFE?” She stared wildly at him. “Your wife? Am I dreaming, or are + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Neither. Do you think I can be content with less than that? Ina, I adore + you.” + </p> + <p> + She put her hand to her head. “I know not who is to blame for this,” said + she, and she trembled visibly. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take the blame,” said he, gayly. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Not take it?” + </p> + <p> + “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—<i>you shall go + with me to-day.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “To the end of the world!” + </p> + <p> + “Something tells me you will know all, and forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I take my bag?” + </p> + <p> + “You might take an evening dress and some linen.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. I won't keep you a moment,” 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. “This is a bad beginning of an imprudent journey,” said she: “I + have a great mind to countermand the carriage.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Ina; “I will sleep in the railway and recover myself.” + </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: “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. + </p> + <p> + Then came a doubt—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, “It is + necessary that I should sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall,” said Miss Gale. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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, “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—do you know where we are + going?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not,” 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—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—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—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. + </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—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> + “It is you,” said he, “once more.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear,” said Zoe, tenderly; “did you think I would not come?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Only tell me how.” + </p> + <p> + “There is but one way—marriage.” + </p> + <p> + Zoe blushed high, and panted a little, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said he, piteously, “I ask too much.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you say that?” said Zoe. “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow! Why, Edward, are you mad? How can we be married, so long as my + brother is so prejudiced against you?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That is quite gone out among ladies and gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + And her red cheeks and flashing eyes warned him to desist. + </p> + <p> + “God forbid!” said he. “If that is the alternative, I consent to lose her—and + lose her I shall.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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: “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It is quite true,” said Zoe. “His mother's sables! Is it possible!” + </p> + <p> + “They all say he is caught at last, and this is to be the next Mrs. + Vizard.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “And if you had, he would have told you the relics of a saint were not to + be played with.” + </p> + <p> + “That is just what he would have said, I do believe.” The female heart was + stung. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Secure us against another separation, unite us in bliss forever.” + </p> + <p> + “And so I would if I could; you know I would. But it is impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “A Gretna Green marriage?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that a marriage—a real marriage?” + </p> + <p> + “As real, as legal, as binding as a wedding in St. Paul's.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody in this county has ever been married so. I should blush to be seen + about after it.” + </p> + <p> + “Our first happy year would not be passed in this country. We should go + abroad for six months.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, fly from shame.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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—a + sure sign of yielding. “Give me time,” she said—“give me time.” + </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> + “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.” + </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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + He turned pale, for her eye flashed dismay into his craven soul. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>legal</i> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you shall,” 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. “Let me + feel you all the way,” she said, “to give me courage.” + </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, “Here they are <i>together.”</i> + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Klosking said, “Stop the carriage”: then, pausing a little, + “Mr. Vizard—on your word of honor, no violence.” + </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> + “YOU infernal scoundrel!” roared Vizard, and took a stride toward Severne. + </p> + <p> + “No violence,” said Ina Klosking, sternly: “it will be an insult to this + lady and me.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then,” said Vizard, grimly, “I must wait till I catch him + alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Meantime, permit me to speak, sir,” said Ina. “Believe me, I have a + better right than even you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then pray ask my sister why I find her on that villain's arm.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Infamy! What, because he cannot give me a suit of sables? Infamy! because + we prefer virtuous poverty to vice and wealth?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Married? It is false! To whom?” + </p> + <p> + “To me.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so. Now I know it is not true. He left you months before we + ever knew him.” + </p> + <p> + “Look at him. He does not say it is false.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Not that I know of,” said he, impudently. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>yourself.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>attache';</i> Count Hompesch, Bavarian plenipotentiary; Herr + Formes.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “The Bavarian and French ministers are both in London,” said Vizard, + eagerly. “We can easily learn if these signatures are forged, like <i>your</i> + acceptances.” + </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> + “There, you little idiot!” roared Vizard; “does that open you eyes?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “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. + </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. “It is all over,” said he; “the man is + dead.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + The waiter stared. “Trouble!” whispered Ashmead, confidentially. “Take no + notice. Supper as quick as possible.” + </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. “What are <i>you</i> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Severne said he would try, but begged the waiter might not be allowed to + stare at a broken-hearted man. + </p> + <p> + “Broken fiddlesticks!” 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. “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Ashmead, “then you expected your wife to commit bigamy, and so + make it smooth to you.” + </p> + <p> + <i>“Of course I did,”</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll go to London—but not without you.” + </p> + <p> + “Me! What do you want of <i>me?”</i> + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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—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. “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.” + </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—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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” sighed Zoe, “would to Heaven I could!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda (defiantly), “Viceroy.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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? “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. + </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, “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. + </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, “No. I will be more his friend than to lend him the + least encouragement.” + </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. “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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. “I presume you have observed the people in front.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madam. Two in particular.” + </p> + <p> + “Could you not advise him to desist?” + </p> + <p> + “Which of 'em, madam?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vizard, of course. He is losing his time, and wasting sentiments it + is cruel should be wasted.” + </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, “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. + </p> + <p> + “Does he call on you?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he write to you?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But I cannot.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! And why not, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He mesmerizes you?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Rhoda. “You are afraid he will make you love him.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not. But artists are impressionable; and being looked at so, by + one I esteem, night after night, when my nerves are strung—<i>cela + m'agace;”</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> + “Not unkindly?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not tell him it is offensive to me?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray do not give him unnecessary pain.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “He is not to be mortified.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall miss him sadly.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall you?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “I have seen Mr. Severne here.” + </p> + <p> + “He comes every night.” + </p> + <p> + “And you allow him?” + </p> + <p> + “It is the manager.” + </p> + <p> + “But he would not admit him, if you objected.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid to do that.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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, “That is carrying + politeness a long way. To be sure, she is half a foreigner.” + </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—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.” + </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—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> + “I know one,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't, then,” said the virago. “But <i>you</i> can come, if you + are not afraid.” + </p> + <p> + Of course Ina Klosking knew of this appointment two minutes after it was + made. She merely said, “Do not let him talk you over.” + </p> + <p> + “He is not so likely to talk me over as you,” said Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken,” was Ina's reply. “I am the one person he will never + deceive again.” + </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, “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen that you were terribly afraid of me,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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?'” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—if you can. No: now you put it in plain words, I see it is not + to be forgiven.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken. It was like a stab to my heart, and I cried bitterly + over it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I deserve to be hanged; that is all.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + He threw himself on his knees directly, and kissed and mumbled her hand, + and bedewed it with hysterical tears. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't do that,” said she; “or I'm bound to give you a good kick. I + hate she men.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me a moment,” said he, “and I will be a man again.” + </p> + <p> + He sat with his face in his hands, gulping a little. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said she, cocking her head like a keen jackdaw; “now let us have + the real object of your visit.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said he, inadvertently—“another time will do for that. I + am content with your forgiveness. Now I can wait.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “Can you ask? Do you consider this a happy state of things?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. But it can't be helped: and we have to thank you for it.” + </p> + <p> + “It could be helped in time. If you would persuade her to take the first + step.” + </p> + <p> + “What step?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “I am quite aware of that,” said he. “But he is + never admitted into her house.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “He is under constant surveillance.” + </p> + <p> + “Spies?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Thief-takers. All from Scotland Yard.” + </p> + <p> + “And love brings men down to this. What is it for?” + </p> + <p> + “When I am sure of your co-operation, I will let you know my hopes.” + </p> + <p> + “He doubts my friendship,” said Rhoda sorrowfully. + </p> + <p> + “No; only your discretion.” + </p> + <p> + “I will be discreet.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You forget she is a German Protestant and the marriage was in that + country. It will be easy enough.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Vizard replied, doggedly, “I will never despair, so long as she keeps him + out of her house.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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> + “I'll have that rose,” cried Severne. + </p> + <p> + “Nenni.” + </p> + <p> + “And a kiss into the bargain.” + </p> + <p> + “Jamais.” + </p> + <p> + “C'est ce que nous verrons.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. + “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. + </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, “No; he bleeds, he bleeds. He must go + to my house.” + </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> + “Miss,” said he, “you are wanted. There has been an accident. Mr. Severne + has fallen through a trap, and into the cellar.” + </p> + <p> + “No bones broken?” + </p> + <p> + “Not he: he has only broken his head; and that will cost her a broken + heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Where I hoped never to see him again. + </p> + <p> + “What! in her house?” said Rhoda and, hurried off at once. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ashmead,” said Vizard, “a word with you.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + As they went, Vizard asked him what he meant by saying this accident would + cost her a broken heart. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You torture me,” said Vizard. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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, “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. + </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> + “Take my arm,” said she. “Now, stand up.” + </p> + <p> + He tried, but could not, and said his legs were benumbed. Miss Gale looked + grave. + </p> + <p> + “Lay him on my bed,” said La Klosking. “That is better than these hard + couches.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” said Miss Gale. “Ring for the servants. He must be moved + gently.” + </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, “Oh, dear; it is more serious than + we thought.” + </p> + <p> + “Very serious. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Edward!” + </p> + <p> + “Collect all your courage, for I cannot lie, either to patient or friend.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are right,” said La Klosking, trembling. “I see he is in danger.” + </p> + <p> + “Worse than that. Where there's danger there is hope. Here there is none. + HE IS A DEAD MAN!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! no!” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>hurt</i> + him.” + </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> + “Doctor,” said La Klosking, “tell me the truth. It cannot be worse than I + fear.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mademoiselle Klosking, <i>“we</i> will nurse him night and + day.” + </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, “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.” + </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, “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.” + </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, “Pray do not give yourselves or + him that trouble. I can melt back into the universe without his + assistance.” + </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, “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.” + </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—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. “Going to Vizard Court?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said he, very dryly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph? Is it anything very particular? Because—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You have converted Vizard? I thought you would. He is a satirical fellow, + but he will listen to reason.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “A lady! Do I know her?” + </p> + <p> + “You may. I suppose you know everybody in Barfordshire. Will you come? + Do!” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I will come, Miss Gale. Please tell one of your people to walk + my horse down after us.” + </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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forbid!” said Uxmoor, startled by this sudden news. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle Klosking got quite well; and oh! what do you think? Mr. + Severne turned out to be her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” shouted Uxmoor, and stopped dead short. “Mr. Severne a + married man!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and Mademoiselle Klosking a married woman.” + </p> + <p> + “You amaze me. Why, that Mr. Severne was paying his attentions to Miss + Vizard.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she? When was that?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see, it was the 17th of October.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that was the very day I left England.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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—she + seemed so earnest in it—and came to her softly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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, “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. + </p> + <p> + Uxmoor was ashamed of his <i>brusquerie.</i> “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!'” + </p> + <p> + “Did I?” said Zoe, faintly, looking scared. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sweet Zoe, and you were reading a letter.” + </p> + <p> + No reply. + </p> + <p> + “I thought the poor fellow might be myself. Not that I am to be pitied, if + you think of me still.” + </p> + <p> + “I do, then—very often. Oh, Lord Uxmoor, I want to go down on my + knees to you.” + </p> + <p> + “That is odd, now; for it is exactly what I should like to do to you.” + </p> + <p> + “What for? It is I who have behaved so ill.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind that; I love you.” + </p> + <p> + “But you mustn't. You must love some worthy person.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you leave that to me. I have no other intention. But may I just see + whose letter you were reading?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pray don't ask me.” + </p> + <p> + “I insist on knowing.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not tell you. There it is.” She gave it to him with a guilty air, + and hid her face. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Zoe, suppose I were to repeat the offer I made here?” + </p> + <p> + “I advise you not,” said she, all in a flurry. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because. Because—I might say 'Yes.'” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then I'll take my chance once more. Zoe, will you try and love me?” + </p> + <p> + “Try? I believe I do love you, or nearly. I think of you very often.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will do something to make me happy.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything; everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you marry me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that I will,” said Zoe, almost impetuously; “and then,” with a grand + look of conscious beauty, “I can <i>make</i> you forgive me.” + </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 “Noes” 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—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. + </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, “How did she + bear it?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Gone to London. She will write to me, I suppose—poor dear. But one + must give her time.” + </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—not even to her tried + friend, Miss Gale. + </p> + <p> + He received an answer by return of post. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>you</i> can testify to her virtue and her discretion. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “JOSEPH ASHMEAD.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Unnatural creatures!” said Vizard. + </p> + <p> + “Ungrateful, at all events.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think she has gone into a convent?” + </p> + <p> + “Not she. In the first place, she is a Protestant; and, in the second, she + is not a fool.” + </p> + <p> + “I will advertise.” + </p> + <p> + “The idea!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I am going to sit down with my hands before me, and lose her + forever?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed; I don't think you are that sort of a man at all, ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What,” said Rhoda, turning swiftly on him; “does that little chit pretend + to read my noble Ina?” + </p> + <p> + “If she cannot, perhaps you can. You are so shrewd. Do tell me, what does + it all mean?” + </p> + <p> + “It means nothing at all, I dare say; only a woman's impulse. They are + such geese at times, every one of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if I did but know what country she is in, I would ransack it.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum!—countries are biggish places.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care.” + </p> + <p> + “What will you give me to tell you where she is at this moment?” + </p> + <p> + “All I have in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You little mocking fiend, you!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “For pity's sake, don't trifle with me.” + </p> + <p> + “I never will, where your heart is interested. She is at Zutzig.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you good girl! She has written to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a line, the monster! And I'll serve her out. I'll teach her to play + hide-and-seek with Gale, M.D.!” + </p> + <p> + “Zutzig!” said Vizard; “how can you know?” + </p> + <p> + “What does that matter? Well, yes—I will reveal the mental process. + First of all, she has gone to her mother.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, dear, dear! Because that is where every daughter goes in + trouble. I should—she <i>has.</i> Fancy you not seeing that—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?” + </p> + <p> + “I remember two, Baron Hompesch—” + </p> + <p> + “No, Count Hompesch.” + </p> + <p> + “And Count Meurice.” + </p> + <p> + “Viscount. What, have you forgotten Herr Formes, Fraulein Graafe, Zug the + Capellmeister, and her very mother? Come now, whose daughter is she?” + </p> + <p> + “I forget, I'm sure.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You clever little angel! I'll be there in three days. Do you really think + I shall succeed?” + </p> + <p> + “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—I'll + try him.'” + </p> + <p> + “Not a word more, angelic fox,” said Vizard; “I'm off to Zutzig.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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, + “Few strangers come here—are you not English?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “It is Mr. Vizard—is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. + “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. + </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, “You knew I should find you, cruel one.” + </p> + <p> + “How could I dream of such a thing?” said she, blushing. + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “You are right. I am a vain fool.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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, + “Oh, pray, my friend—we are in Denmark: here widows are expected to + be discreet.” + </p> + <p> + “But that is no reason why the English fellows who adore them should be + discreet.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not: but then the Danish lady runs away.” + </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—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, “I begin to fear you will never love me + as I love you.” + </p> + <p> + “Who knows?” said she. “Time works wonders.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” said he, “whether you will ever marry any other man?” + </p> + <p> + Ina was shocked at that. “Oh, my friend, how could I—unless,” said + she, with a sly side-glance, “you consented.” + </p> + <p> + “Consent? I'd massacre him.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What is the use waiting?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a matter of propriety.” + </p> + <p> + “How long are we to wait?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I would. Now, Ina, love, a widow who has been two years + separated from her husband!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You are an angel. Take your own time. After all, what does it matter? I + don't leave Zutzig without you.” + </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> + “Oh, never mind them,” said this single-hearted lover. “I have appointed + Miss Gale viceroy.” + </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. “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.” + </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, “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.” + </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. “Who knows + when we may meet again?” said he. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I advise you not to press that question,” 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>—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. + </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: “Good news: lost sheep turned up. Is now with her mother at + Claridge's Hotel.” + </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—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. “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.” + </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. “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. + </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—so, A. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “Alma novem celebres genuit Rhedyeina poetas. Bubb, Stubb, Grubb, Crabbe, + Trappe. Brome, Carey, Tickell, Evans.” + </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—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—girls, boys and adults—with + untiring good humor and patience. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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—trebles, tenors, counter-tenor, and bass. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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 “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. + </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, “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said she, “bring me one.” + </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. + “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.” + </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 “Homer”); 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 “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 <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 “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. + </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. “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. + </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—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> + “Qui mihi non credit faciat licet ipse periclum, Mox fuerit studis aequior + ille meis.” + </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 “Tillotson's Sermons.” + </p> + <p> + “What on earth can you want of them?” + </p> + <p> + “To improve my mind, to be sure,” said the minx. + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Fanny, turning red, “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “La!” said Fanny, pertly. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, cousin!” + </p> + <p> + “And,” said Mrs. Vizard, “he permits me to furnish it for you. You and I + will make it 'a bijou.'” + </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—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 <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. “After + forty years of made dishes they ought to be content to die; it is bare + justice,” 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: + “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.” + </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 + “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. + </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—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. + </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 “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 <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—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, “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.” + </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—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. + </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> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Woman-Hater, by Charles Reade + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOMAN-HATER *** + +***** This file should be named 3669-h.htm or 3669-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/6/3669/ + +Produced by James Rusk and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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